#and the complete opposite of what you'd expect

[jaratedeguadalupe]

I can never decide if janus is a terrible cook who somehow manages to burn water or is a 5 star michelin level chef. 

[swan2swan]

Part two of the Darius and Sammy conflict. Again: one of the best scenes in the show.

[gothmiqote]

part of me wants to have varha's relationship with estinien resolved BEFORE shb because i'm impatient but also because the buildup is there (still workshopping things but i'm going to pick apart the later dragoon quests to suit my own needs here & re-arrange some things to give them an excuse to spend time alone together post-stormblood pre-shadowbringers, it'll be great once i figure out a solid timeline, i promise) so like on one hand it would make sense, they're both incredibly blunt people who Would just go for it under the right circumstances

however. leaving things on a 'not-quite-official-yet-even-though-we've-shared-a-bed' note gives us the combined comedy/angst of varha spending her downtime in the crystarium giving Major 'why should THEY be happy! [while throwing rocks at couples by the lake]' energy that will absolutely be made the problem of innocent bystanders and emet-selch, who's about to figure out exactly Which parts of azem's personality varha inherited (the hostile fire-starter ones, mostly). plus, estinien gets to spend that time ruminating on the fact that he missed his window to actually move things forward like, multiple times over the course of their multi-week dragon-hunting camping trip to make an official declaration of any kind, and he gets to to this while on his road trip with gaius (what did they even Talk about that whole time like???). no, gaius doesn't get omnipotence for narrative convenience, i just think him being around estinien while he dwells on this makes the situation objectively more miserable for him & therefore more entertaining for Me.

[pomefioredove]

only one bed room

summary: it's the sdc and everyone's staying over at ramshackle but, oh no! you're one room and one bed short. being the generous (or gullible) soul that you are, you agree to share characters: all sdc competitors, separate additional info: fair warning I have no replayed book 5 in a while, reader is yuu, reader is gender neutral, rook is rook, most scenarios end in cuddles. can be interpreted as romantic or platonic (nix vil and rook's part)

Deuce Spade

"I don't mind sleeping on the floor!"

it's a big fat no from Vil. waking up sore and tired is unacceptable, and will affect his performance during practice. he will use the bed, end of story.

you offer to take the floor or one of the many stiff and uncomfortable couches in Ramshackle, but he refuses

what kind of aspiring honor student would he be if he kicked you out of your own room?

so, yes, you end up sharing the bed

he's a perfect gentleman about it

he insists on sleeping on the complete opposite end of the bed

to give you your space, of course

not because he's nervous

obviously it doesn't pan out- he's kind of a messy sleeper, and on the first night you wake up with him sprawled on top of you

you decide not to wake him up

you'd been thinking about saving for a weighted blanket, anyway

Ace Trappola

"you better not hog the blankets,"

takes it like a champ, though he might be screaming internally

he already sleeps in a dorm with three other guys- this can't be any different, right?

it totally is

sharing a bed with someone? someone he likes, who he isn't just forced to live with for convenience?

he's not sure how to tease you about this one without coming off as nervous himself

so he just shuts his trap about it (for once) and accepts his fate

in the end, it's no big deal for a player like him

he ends up hogging the blankets, though. hypocrite.

Kalim al-Asim

"YAYYY SLEEPOVER!"

he means exactly what he says

not a care in the world

all he's thinking about is how fun this is going to be! just him and his favorite Ramshackle prefect (Grim heard the news and will be staying in deuce's room to avoid any cracker mishaps)

Kalim, admittedly, is not a creature of great thought. he tends to be dictated by his feelings, and he can be a little selfish sometimes

so when Jamil pulled him aside and asked him to just buy another bed for ramshackle, he ignored him entirely

why would he do that? the situation is resolved, and everyone's happy!

well... not everyone, but Kalim's happy!

he stocks up on Vil-approved snacks, insists you two braid each other's hair and stay up late into the night talking with no one to remind you to go to sleep

(he tried to invite Jamil and got the door slammed in his face)

this arrangement lasts approximately one night

when Vil sees the dark circles under your eyes, it's over

you are confined to the couch, and Kalim is forced to sleep alone

Jamil Viper

"okay,"

really. he's totally fine with it.

besides the fact that he doesn't want to cause any more trouble, he's shared beds with his siblings before. no big deal

he just wasn't expecting to wake up with you snuggled against him

but this is fine

totally fine

he's barely conscious and it's early morning, still dark, the time he's used to getting up at

Vil has things covered, right? he can stay here for a little while longer. it would be awkward trying to get up without waking you

it feels nice having something all to himself for once

he smirks, imagining how jealous everyone else would be:

the beautiful, kind, intelligent ramshackle prefect in his arms? oh, the looks on their faces would almost make this whole thing worth it!

but in the end, he decides to say nothing

he wants to keep you all to himself, after all

for just a little while longer

Epel Felmier

"ain't no way I'm sharing!"

that's what he says in his head, anyway. but it's late and he's worn out from practice (and being shouted at) so he just sighs and accepts his fate

of course Vil would make him do it. it's probably because he's the smallest, isn't it?

you can tell he's unhappy with the arrangement (not that he's making much of a secret of it- he's grumbling under his breath all evening)

he starts coming around to the idea when he wakes up holding something warm

his heart jumpstarts and he nearly panics before remembering where he is

and then he realizes the thing he's holding is... you. somehow the two of you had ended up spooning during the night

but, more importantly... he's the big spoon!

he's almost tempted to wake you to announce that he, in all his manly glory, had naturally assumed the most masculine cuddling position!

(yes he sounds ridiculous. just let him have this one)

he lets you sleep, though. just a little more won't hurt anyone, right?

he's okay with the arrangement after that

Rook Hunt

"I will do it!"

Vil isn't even able to finish his sentence before the vice housewarden is practically jumping up and down

pretty much everyone breathes a collective sigh of relief; a volunteer! thank the sevens. otherwise, this could get awkward...

of course, he quite intentionally ends up with you in his arms

but not for any nefarious purpose, he insists!

he's a light sleeper, and can be stirred by any sudden noise or movement

you appeared to be having some kind of nightmare

it reminds him of a small animal caught in a trap, struggling for its life. he can't bear to see it- it's cruel to let a poor creature go on suffering before you can make the kill

of course, instead of killing you (thank the sevens), he decides to comfort you

he presses your head against his chest so you can hear his heartbeat, and he runs his fingers through your hair until you calm down.

then he keeps you there, just to be sure you don't have another bad dream

if you gave him permission, he would gladly be all over you in seconds. kissing up and down your shoulders, caressing every perfect inch of your body, whispering words of admiration

but he's perfectly content just cradling you for now

hopefully, you will continue to have these nightmares and give him excuses to do this again

Vil Schoenheit

"don't argue with me,"

initially, you just gave him the bed

maybe you were afraid of him; maybe you like him; maybe you just wanted to avoid a conflict altogether

either way, you spent the first night on the terribly uncomfortable floor, and trudged through Ramshackle like a zombie the next morning

Vil was feeling guilty watching you

what? he's not a monster

and he's a leader, which means he has a responsibility. and you had so graciously invited them all into your home...

fine! he'll share. he insists, even

when you try to argue, he shuts you down, repeating all that stuff about responsibility and hospitality, blah blah

and he doesn't want the team manager dead on their feet

arguing with him is pointless, so you just agree

he wakes up with you against him, sleeping peacefully

now, if it were you clinging to him- he might have had a good chuckle. can't keep your hands to yourself, prefect? I'm just that irresistible?

but the way he's holding you, the way his arms are so tightly wrapped around your waist, the way he's so clearly pressing you against him...

he hates to admit it, but you're an elegant sleeper. it's almost cute

the tension is relieved from your face, your breathing graceful and steady, and your perfect lips open just a sliver...

he is a perfect gentleman, and would never dream of doing anything without your explicit permission, but for one shameful second he thinks about how easy it would be to kiss you

... and then he quickly puts those thoughts aside and tries to get back to sleep

he doesn't want any dark circles, after all

[kamitv]

Thinking about Sukuna who...

Hates you (affectionately).

If you expect the king of curses to ever admit his romantic and blissful emotions of love in regards to you, you'd have to (quite literally) be on the verge of death.

He says it a lot too. "I hate you," in place of saying the opposing three words. When you two first got together you found it odd but at some point, you realized that was his idiotic way of saying he loves you.

He'll always have this mean look on his face but sometimes, and only sometimes, you swear you'll find faint little hearts in his eyes when he looks at you. (Then again you might be delusional because look who the hell you're in love with anyway).

Always fucks you like he's mad at you.

Tying you up, choking you, biting you, scratching you-, oh the list goes on with the number of things this man does to you during sex.

He's so mean to you in bed, being sure to stuff you full of his cock(s) for hours on end until you're left completely ruined, and even then most times he doesn't want to stop. The only reason sex ends with him is simply because he pities your lack of stamina.

That, and it annoys him when you're so fucked-out that the sound of his name leaving your lips is barely over a whiney little whisper. Followed by that is usually the frustratingly small pushes you give him, babbling something about it being 'too much', even though your cunt is always saying quite the opposite.

Aside from that, he fucking loves when you're scratching at his back, leaving bright red marks he finds prettier than the dark tattoos decorating the rest of his muscular body. He'll be sure to admire take a look at them the following morning. Then, whenever said scars begin to heal, he'll be sure to remind you to create new ones for him-- he loves them most when they're fresh.

Requires your full undivided attention no matter what.

The moment your name leaves his lips, Sukuna expects every ounce of your attention on him. He doesn't care what you're doing, you're required to be focused on him whenever he requests your attention.

It's almost like he doesn't even 'request' your attention, he commands it. It's in the way he looks at you; the way he'd tip his head into whatever direction you're looking into just so you can understand the seriousness behind his request-- and yes, sometimes he could be saying something pointless like, "You looked foolish running around in the garden like that earlier," To which you'd happily respond to him with both a smile and a chuckle, "You were watching me?" And then he'd feel caught and cover it up with a roll of his eyes, "I always know your whereabouts, human."

Secretly loves having your eyes on his.

Or, he think he hides his love for the eye contact pretty well...

Though, you see right through all of that rather quickly. The way he always tips your chin up so that he can get a full look at your face all the time, tells you to keep looking at him no matter the situation-- he could be balls deep inside you and watching your eyes roll to the back of your head and yet he still expects them to eventually return to him.

Even when he's not looking at you he tells you to keep your eyes on him. It frightens you sometimes when you watch him look at something else and then you try to do the same only to flinch at the sound of his rough tone hitting your ears seconds later with a swift, "Did I say you could stop looking at me?"

Hates to see you upset.

As much as the man thrives in the displeasure of others, you're probably the only living thing that genuinely irks his nerves to see upset.

Even though he finds your little pouts and huffs of frustration as cute as ever, he only finds such expressions enjoyable when he's the cause of them. And even at that point, he doesn't exactly like seeing you mad with him. Sukuna already feels as though you should hate him as is so whenever you're actually mad at him for something (most likely killing someone after you've requested him not to do so) it makes his heart twinge in unfamiliar ways.

That's typically when he'll decide it's a good time to throw you a very rare, yet much appreciated compliment. A simple, "You look pretty today," somehow always distracts you from whatever it is you're mad about. Which makes him smirk-- he finds it endearing how easy it is to please you. (Though, he only finds it so endearing because he knows only he can bring you such joy so simply).

Has a tendency to treat you more like some kinda pet instead of a partner.

He truly doesn't mean to but it happens naturally for a curse who knows little of what it means to love someone.

Stuff like, "Fetch me another water, woman." "Sit." and, "Stay here." is often slipping from his lips without second thought. And no he doesn't mean to make you feel like a pet, it's simply the way he speaks to everyone and you're no exception.

Well, you weren't an exception until you explained that you don't like it when he speaks to you like you're some kind of dog. To which he teased you, "Yet you enjoy my praises?" Naturally, you were confused so your brows twisted up and he went on to elaborate, "When I call you a, or my 'good girl', you always tell me how it arouses you." Then you're sputtering out an embarrassed little, "T-That's different and you know it!" "It is still something I would say to a dog." He deadpans, like he always does when he's speaking to you. Your eyes roll and he smirks within the split second your gaze isn't on his, "Yes, but I'm talking about the other things you say." Folding those large bulky arms of his across his chest as he stands before you, "Ah, so you mean when I command you?" Sukuna asks for clarification. "Yes," You reply simply with your eyes returning to his Again, he acts clueless, "You told me you loved dominant men." "That's not what I-," Your face is met with your palm and you let out a heavy sigh before giving up on your little explanation, "Y'know what, never mind."

He pretends to have no idea what you were trying to express in that conversation but you later notice the difference in the way he talks you.

Knows you have a not-so-secret thing for his thighs.

And how can anyone blame you? He often covers them up, of course, but when you first found out he had such slutty tattoos decorating his upper thigh, you couldn't help but he enamored by them.

Though, when Sukuna caught wind of this, he instructs you to ride those same thighs you find 'slutty' and audibly describe to him in detail what it is you like about his thighs so much. So when you're prettily sitting atop him with little to no clothes, safe for the lingerie set he had made for you, all he can do is stare at you with that cocky ass smile of his, ignoring his aching cock whilst he listens to your whiney descriptions of how attractive you find his tattoos.

Loves bickering with you.

He’ll admit this one. Sukuna can’t get enough of getting on your nerves in a teasing manner.

Flicking your forehead mid conversation just to watch your brows twitch and your face twist up, cutting you off as you’re talking just to watch the way you shut yourself up or sometimes keep talking over him as if to compete with him, and disagrees with most of what you say just because.

“The sky is so beautiful today, ‘Kuna, look!” You once exclaimed as you enjoyed a rather peaceful walk with the curse, your arms wrapped snuggly around one of his. He barely spares the sky a glance before grumbling a response to you, “It looks horrid.” “Sukuna,” You huff in that scolding tone he seems to adore so much. Biting back a smirk, “Woman.” With a little groan, you give his bulky arm a nudge with your head, “Can’t you be serious just this once?” “I am being serious,” Sukuna deadpans before looking down at you and meeting your gaze— feeling proud to find your eyes are already on his. You’ve got this pout on your face now, “What’s so ‘horrid’ about the sky? Hm?” Words are flying past his lips faster than he intends to, almost like second nature as he takes in the features of the only human to have every captured his attention, “It doesn’t look like you.” “I-,” You’re smiling immediately, “What?” “Nothing.” Oh how you adore when he does that — compliment you and then get all shy about it, his eyes darting elsewhere, “Awww, Kuna-“ “I’ll kill you, brat,” Sukuna cuts you off crisply as he tugs you further along the long path you’re headed down. “You love mee,” You reply in a nagging tone, flashing the man the brightest smile you can muster. And of course, he’ll never deny that but he also refuses to say those three words to you so, instead, he’s smirking slightly before responding with an expected command of, “Silence, human.”

Will never admit to being jealous.

Despite it being so obvious— he’ll always deny it when you ask.

He walked in on Uraume showing you how to properly prepare a meal one time and decided to nudge his personal chef out of the way just to show you himself. Muttering something about it being ‘easier’ if he shows you himself.

Sukuna often threatens those who have their eyes on you for any longer than five seconds at a time, even if you’re literally talking to them. And yes, yes he’s counting every second.

Has the most degrading nicknames for you.

“Whore.”

His “cockhungry slut.”

“Needy bi-“ He got hit for trying this one out without your permission.

“Brat.”

“Stupid woman.”

“Foolish human.”

But when he does say something affectionate— it typically consists of; “angel”, “perfect”, “beautiful”, “heaven in his hands”, y’know, the usual.

Finds his emotions only ever confusing him when you're around.

His heart feels strange in his chest when you give him small touches.

He can’t stop his breath from hitching in intimate moments when you’re running your fingertips along his jawline and studying his face closely.

You kissed the tip of his nose one time and whispered something about how handsome he was and Sukuna swears he’s never felt the need to protect and savor something more in his life.

If he were ever to lose you, he’d wreak havoc on the rest of the earth until you’re miraculously reborn, of age, into this world once more. (His words, not mine)

Loves your tits more than any other part of your body.

Sukuna likes playing with them for some odd reason. Like a big baby with a sensory video, flash your tits at the man and he can’t think of anything else aside from the soft flesh he’s toying with in his palms.

And he has two pairs of hands so he makes use of them quite often. Approaching you from behind, grabbing your waist with one set of hands and your breasts with the other— he’ll grope your tits and lean down to your ear to whisper about how soft and perfect you are for him.

Dislikes when you make him speechless.

And you do it often too. Each time he sees you, he only feels his words fading over and over again.

The first time he saw you in a red and black kimono constructed specifically for your figure, he felt all thoughts and words leaving him and the only thing on his body still working properly was his cock(s).

You notice how every time you call the curse ‘handsome’ he goes quiet for a moment longer than normal. He’ll stare at you like you’d said something foreign for a few minutes before muttering something along the lines of, “Stop telling me things I’m already aware of, brat.” But, his face is shaded a different hue of red and his eyes wander elsewhere for just a second.

Has and would kill anyone for you or because of you.

This, you have to scold him about. In the beginning of your relationship with the king of curses, he would dispose of people as if their lives had no true value— all for the sake of you.

You had to beg the man for months straight to let go of that sinful habit of his and almost did. The only difference in his killings now versus then is that you don’t know about them. Or, he trues to make sure you don’t know (he’s not that good at keeping things from you).

Is happiest when you call him certain names.

“My lord” “My king” “‘Kuna” “Handsome” but he’ll never admit to his preference for these nicknames over other ones you may call him.

A/N: lmk if there are any errors — this isn’t proofread!

[bunnyhugs77]

High Demand

ꕤ- Pairing: Dealer! Jungkook x Reader

ꕤ- WC: 2.6k

ꕤ- A modern day Romeo and Juliet

Content: college student! reader, grumpy jk, brief texting! au, jk is lowkey whipped, drug use (marijuana), reader is his special customer, vaping, opposites attract, suggestive themes, minor jealousy, idiots in love (but they won't admit it), shot gunning, grinding, fwb?

Other Content: thigh riding, high sex, jk titty appreciation, unprotected sex (no.), hand job, soft dom kook, reader is a little needy, brief switch! koo, hickeys, pet names, spit, biting.

Shaking your head with a small giggle as you looked at your phone before tossing it aside. You're totally his favourite. You know he's stubborn and he would never admit it but deep down he loves delivering to you the most.

Looking around your sad and dimly lit dorm, all the lights were off and your roommate was gone for the weekend doing god knows what with her weird ass biology major boyfriend who would collect rabbit tails in jars for 'science'.

You were looking at one right now actually, it seems they left one behind, on the coffee table. It was just fermenting in... you actually weren't sure and didn't want to know.

Your eyes felt like they were on fire the longer you looked at the stupid philosophy paper you were writing. The bright light from your laptop was beginning to drill into your head. Your head lolled to the side glancing at the time on your phone.

It was almost 11:30, and time for a break. Abandoning the device on the couch for a quick wake-up shower; by the time you'd gotten changed and returned to the living room, you could expect Jungkook any minute now.

Except, this is Jungkook we're talking about. He's always late.

That's why when you heard the familiar rattling of the rusty fire escape you were startled. It was a little past midnight. Climbing through the window in nothing but your basketball shorts and a white tee.

Pleasantly surprised to see Jungkook scaling the platform with a bag of takeout pinned in between his teeth. The sight of you looking down at him from where he climbed made his eyebrows raise but of course he couldn't say anything.

Not until he was finally close enough for you to grab the bag from his mouth and he stands up. You climb back inside first with him following behind with a pained sigh. "I'm so sick of coming here. Got me climbing walls like its fucking subway surfers." He curses while you place the food down on the table.

Completely ignoring him, practically drooling as you slowly peeled open the bag. "And I thought you said you weren't gonna bring me anything." He snatches the bag.

"I didn't."

You let yourself fall onto the couch, arms crossed and unbelieving. "Oh yeah? So you just coincidentally craved Wendy's and decided to haul it up three flights up a ladder from your mouth when you could've just eaten it in the car?"

"Yeah exactly." He shrugs, obviously lying.

"Give me the bag, Jungkook."

"Fine. But I'm charging you extra for the delivery and the labour of bringing it up here." He hands it to you and you roll your eyes knowing it was nothing more than a bluff.

"It's not my fault you're out of shape," you mumble unwrapping the burger. "Oh yeah? Is this what out of shape looks like to you?" He says it almost offended but challenged.

Choking briefly on your food as he lifts up his shirt, revealing the defined abs that you have such lewd memories of. "Yeah, that's what I thought. You try climbing 3 flights up a ladder and tell me it's easy." You shrug,

"Not my fault you're banned from the campus." He drops himself down beside you, reaching for the bag of fries and taking some for himself. "But it is, if you hadn't called me to drop off a stash for Angelica's dorm party maybe I could still take the stairs."

You drop your half-eaten burger with apologetic eyes, "How was I supposed to know they were doing random security checks in the lobby? At least you didn't get arrested." You pout and he scoffs.

"Bare minimum." He says via grumpy mutter under his breath so you offered up the rest of your food to him as a peace offering. A little sad that he actually took it but you were getting full anyway.

As he finished up the rest of your food you couldn't stop yourself from asking, "So do you still do drops with Angelica?" He nods with his mouth full of the last bite, stuffing the wrappers back in the bag.

"How often does she call you?-- for deliveries I mean." He chuckles, licking his lips, "Jealous?" You take the trash off the coffee table and bring it to the kitchen to toss it in the garbage. "You're delusional."

"I can't help it if I'm in high demand." He manspreads, his arms stretched over the back of the couch. "Just shut up. Do you have my pen?" He reaches for the pocket inside his leather jacket, pulling out the slim box.

Already knowing that you were going to use it now, he began to unbox it while you collected the cash you needed. "40 right?" You say handing him the small spread of bills, "Yeah, but for you, I guess I could make it 30." He shrugs conceitedly.

"Because I'm your favourite." You say and he shakes his head, "No. Because I ate your food." Which he paid for but you didn't dare to say that out loud, you were getting cheap weed.

"So who's your favourite then Jungkook?" He hands you the pen, "Listen. I don't climb up the fire escape when I do deliveries for Angelica, I make her come to me. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Trying to tug the pen out of his grasp but he holds it firm until you respond, "I guess I can work with that." He smiles softly, letting you take the first hit as his arm wraps around your shoulder.

The two of you passed the pen back and forth, with little giggles here and there and wide eyes on the episode of SpongeBob that was playing.

By now the dark living room is illuminated by nothing more than your roommate's lava lamp and a strip of purple LEDs' taped behind the TV. You could see the smoke as it floated past the few sources of light.

"Open." He directs, taking a particularly long hit, leaning into you and blowing the pungent smoke into your mouth, sucking it in from his lips.

The pen is now forgotten as it rolls between the cracks of the couch. Straddling Jungkook's muscular thigh as he flexed it every now and then, taking hits from his blueberry Ice vape and blowing it to the ceiling, giving you a prime view of his sharp jaw under the soft purple lighting.

The sight made you shake, gyrating your hips almost desperately as you chased the feeling of friction on his denim-clad thigh. "You like that? You feel good fucking yourself on my thigh?" The question was rhetorical, you were too dazed to answer him anyway.

Your heavy-lidded gaze slowly rolls up to his pretty face once you feel his hand move from your hips to gently wrap around your neck, not applying any pressure, just there to let you feel the weight of his hand. "Answer me," He says, and you fall forward "Yess, feels so good." You moan, and Jungkook has danced this dance with you enough to see you were close.

But of course, he couldn't let you cum so soon, not yet. His hands flew to your hips and pinned you down on his thigh, restricting your range of motion. "Please," You beg and he wishes he had a little more willpower but he couldn't say no to you, not when you looked so fucked out when he's barely touched you.

"Fuck. Take your shirt off." Leaning back and crossing your arms over the base of the shirt, you pried it off your body desperately. Leaving you in your black lacy bra and it pulled out a guttural groan from Jungkook's chest.

"You little whore." he grits through his clenched teeth, grip tightening on the arm of the couch nearly ripping the fabric.

This position was no longer giving him what he so desperately craved. Shrugging the jacket from off his shoulders and taking off the tank top underneath letting your eyes roam over his built upper body, oh how you wanted to just...

Without thinking your tongue striped up the expanse of his bulky pecs. This was new, but Jungkook was so high out of his mind anything and everything you did felt like he was on cloud 9.

Your mouth dropped down to wrap around his rosy nipples and you could've never anticipated the worked-up reaction you got from him. "Oh shit, shit shit." He gasps, hands gripping your waist tight enough that you're sure there will be bruises by the morning.

Letting your tongue lap around his nipples with pure hunger, an inexplicable flame burning in your core as you were finally the one who got to watch the other be reduced to a moaning mess.

His once soft moans turned a little breathy and high-pitched, His hips bucked causing you to jolt in his lap, he was getting close.

"Didn't think you'd like having your tits played with so much?" You tease him but he didn't find the humour in it. He holds you by the throat once more, this time applying a generous amount of pressure, pushing you off him.

Unbuckling his belt and you knew what that meant. He slides out of his pants, followed by the boxers that were the last barrier between your moistened lips and his throbbing cock. "Let's put that smart mouth of yours to good use, yeah?" He hums, watching as you sink to your knees, hand carefully wrapped around his base, starting with slow pumps.

"Spit on it." Doing as told, you let a wad of spit fall from your pretty, plush lips and coat the shaft of his dick, you worked your palm up his length. Already satisfied with the way his head was thrown back.

"Just like that," Reaching for the vape, he takes a few good hits, the head rush mixed with the pleasure had him seeing stars-- the object falling from his hands immediately the moment he felt the warm heat of your mouth wrap around his sensitive tip.

"Y/n-" He breathes out, almost scared, he was so close, too soon. He's never struggled to hold himself back this badly before. What were you doing to him?

The obscene sounds of you choking as you struggled to take all of him in your mouth, letting your nose touch the soft, trimmed hairs near his base. Focusing on breathing through your nose before you felt a heavy hand on the back of your head, pushing you lower.

You were quite literally slobbering on his dick, gagging with every buck of his hips. "That's it, princess. You're doing so well--Shit. Mouth feels like fucking heaven." His praise rushes to your core and has your left hand trailing down to rub yourself through your lace underwear.

The rough friction being more than enough to get you there, "I'm gonna cum, baby. Where-- Shit!-- Where do you want it?" He gasps, his hips snapping, pushing his length down your throat almost erratically. You don't answer, only hollowing your cheeks to take him deeper, making your desires clear.

Your own fingers quickening their pace, your own sounds travelling through his dick in vibrations and pushing him right over the edge with you, filling your mouth with his warm cum.

Swallowing as if it were second nature. "Stick out your tongue," He says softly. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he tries to regain his composure from his overwhelming climax. Your tongue was out and cleared of any of his cum and it made him crazy.

He remembers the first time he'd brought an order to you over 6 months ago. He thought you were nothing more than a cute little philosophy major, never did he think he'd have you beneath him like he does right now.

Looking up at him, daring to give you an almost angelic gaze while the two of you ruined each other. Tainting each other with your own touches. "Kiss me?" You ask it so cutely, tempting him with the pout on your lips. You weren't being fair.

His body didn't give him a choice before his lips were on yours, his hips grinding into yours. The feeling of his solid dick rolling against your skin making the butterflies go ramped in your stomach.

The way you licked over his bottom lip with your own made Jungkook weak, stumbling on his elbows as he held himself up over you. Soft groans could be heard the deeper the kiss became.

Messy and intimate. Your hand crept up the back of his neck to tug at the dark locks of hair on his head. There was a loud pop and the two of you paused.

With Jungkook between your legs and with you under him, your heads turned slowly towards the coffee table where the jar was, dedicated to the fermenting rabbit tail. "What the fuck is that?" Jungkook slowly sits up, "My roommate's boyfriend's weird biology shit. I dunno, it freaks me out too." You sit up, now remembering what the two of you were in the middle of doing.

"That shit's not gonna blow up or anything right." You gently peck him on the lips but his brain seems preoccupied by the jar, "who knows," you say, kissing right under his ear and that seemed to get him to zone in on you.

Catching his bottom lip under his teeth as your kisses became more eager, suckling on a certain spot on his neck, his head falling back against his will. "Fuck, Y/n-- Don't you dare." You pull off his soft skin with a soft pop, admiring the burgundy bruise left behind.

"Oops." Your apology was ingenuine and bratty, and Jungkook hated brats.

Tearing you out of your final pieces of clothing before manhandling you into his lap. "Sit on it." He demands and you follow without question. Moaning out loud as his dick spread your lips apart like butter.

Sliding down with ease and a stretch of your velvety walls that were currently squeezing Jungkook for everything he's got and he's got nothing left, everything was yours.

"I-Shit! You feel so good, Kook!" He couldn't bother to correct you on the annoying nickname you were incessant on using. "Yeah? You like that- fuck, you feel so good." He curses, bucking his hips up into you as you raise your hips trying to match his thrusts.

He was fucking you so good, so ruthlessly, your head falls onto his shoulder and you needed more than just the couch to hold on to, your teeth sank into the muscular meat of his shoulder and his pace faltered.

"Shit shit shit! Do that again." He groans, picking up an inhumane pace that had you bouncing all over the place until he stilled you in his arms. His grunts and breathy moans came out right beside your ear only pushing you to your orgasm faster.

"J-jungkook-!" You pant, unable to speak, feeling like your insides are being rearranged, "Me too, baby. Cum with me." You finish first, and with a few more unsynchronized snaps of his hips, you were being filled to the brim with his cum.

The room is filled with nothing but the sound of muffled music playing from your neighbour's next door and laboured breaths. Jungkook gently lays you down on the couch beside him, staring into your eyes.

This felt so intimate. You felt his gaze deeper than just behind your eyes, it was as if he was looking into your soul. His eyes were tinted red as he looked at you with an adoring gaze. "You're cute." He says it casually as though he hadn't just fucked you.

Your eyes roll before they close, feeling the sleepiness begin to kick in. "Bet you say that to all your customers." Mumbling the words into his chest while he began to grin a little.

"Nope. Only to my favourite." Your eyes shoot open.

"I knew it."

[thecameronchronicles]

Heat of The Moment

TW: unhinged Rafe. Dominant sex. Dirty talk. Language. Oral sex. Hair pulling. Cum swallowing.

REQUESTED:

@gianadrichardson-blog

So the idea I have in my mind is that y/n and Rafe are dating and Rafe KNOWS that every guy wants y/n from tourons, college guys and even his best friends want her. So while y/n was out of town with her parents, Topper accidentally revealed that he had feelings for y/n and tried to date her while her and Rafe was in the talking stage. So Rafe calls y/n and sees where she at. When Rafe gets y/n location he shows up and let out his frustration he had and record them having sex with y/n then send to topper with the message “keep away from my girl”

Maybe y/n older brother have y/n phone and decided to play a prank on rafe acting like a guy had y/n phone

Heat of the Moment

"What the fuck, Top?!" Rafe accuses, holding Topper's phone high enough out of reach. But your pictures remain on the screen. More specifically, pictures the friend of your boyfriend shouldn't have.

"I- just stop it, man-"

"My girlfriend's tits are on your screen! What am I supposed to think?"

"She's in a bikini but it it doesn't matter okay? Just-just let me have it back." But Rafe smashes it before Topper can even brush his fingers against it. His finger is pointed in his former friend's face before he can right Rafe's actions that he believes wholeheartedly are justified.

"Rafe. When you and her were just talking, I...I thought I had a shot. I get that now, okay? I just, sometimes I wonder what if-"

"If I even see you looking at her after this, you won't be able to ever look again."

Rafe was already fuming. He was jealous and curious, both existing to a dangerous degree that meant his knuckles were bloodied more than healed and his voice hoarse from having defended you.

There wasn't a soul within a dramatic radius within the Outer Banks that didn't see your beauty. Whether it was the stunning way your eyes could focus and become instantly lustful with one look at your boyfriend or the way your voice warmed even the coldest of hearts, Rafe Cameron knew exactly what he had.

Perfection.

He just didn't expect to have to have to defend you to someone so close to him- someone who has apparently had feelings for you since before you were officially anything with Rafe. It makes his hands wrap tightly around the steering wheel and his foot practically punch a hole into the floor of his truck as he races across the Carolina road.

He never thought he left it to question. You were his. He was yours. It was as official as it could be without a ring or contract of marriage and yet he knew he needed to make it unquestionably true to the one person it mattered to.

So without a call or text in warning, he is pounding at your front door.

"Rafe? Are you okay baby, you-" He is over your threshold, face between your hands, your body pulled into his as he kisses you between words.

"You know I love you, yeah?" You nod with your hands coming up around his wrists. If you didn't trust him so gravely then you'd worry for the strength behind his hands as he brought you against him.

"You know I'd do anything for you?" He kisses with a grunt, more animal than the man you talked to earlier this morning.

"And that you say our word and it stops, no questions asked? That you know I put you first?" His forehead rests against yours as he waits for your agreement. It takes less than the time of a blink before he gets it.

"Good, remember that because I'm about to fuck you like I hate you." He lifts you around him and up your steps, suddenly too far away from your room.

You were the complete opposite of touch starved and yet you felt as if you had been drowning without his touch, the first moment of contact being an exhale for relief. Only in the juxtaposition that was being his girlfriend it also made you lightheaded.

"Rafe-" His hand comes up over your mouth as he only manages to get to the steps and turns you to cover them. Your knees dig into the uncomfortable wood and yet all you can focus on is the heat of the moment.

"Need to use that word, baby?"

You shake your head as he guides your hands around the open spaces between the bars making up your bannister.

"Then hold on." His belt sounds first and then the rough fabric of his pants being shoved.

"Jesus Christ, baby, I don't even need to spit on my cock, so I?" He leans over you, kicking your legs just wide enough to leave some comfort in the angle. "Always so wet for me isn't that right?"

"Always!" You moan into his hand as he grins against your shoulder before reaching into his pocket.

You hear the wrapper of the confom being torn and make the mistake to turn and see him do it with his teeth. Something about the savagery of it and the heat behind his eyes, still possessing your care above all else, and it sends you drenching the valley awaiting him.

"Safe and-" He moans, a deep honey tone, that makes your toes curl knowing you wrap around him snuggly enough to cause such a reaction.

"Tight, baby! Fuck!" He hits the stairs beside your cheek and yet it does nothing to limit anything. If anything, it spurs you both on as his other hand releases your mouth and you're able to kiss the skin of his fist as if to soften his rigidity.

"How are you so sweet AND sexy-hmm? Always know just what I need don't you baby?" Your body wills itself to endure all that is Rafe Cameron. Every tension soiling his happiness now pumping through every snap of his hips until all that remains is the frustration you know he veils from you. Still, you trust that every shove of him into you is only a method of showing you he cares.

However, it has never been quite this possessive before. Quite this needy. Quite this deep or hard.

And you fucking love it.

His hands can't move fast enough and yet they are graceful and not amateur. He rolls your nipples as he kisses your neck, thrusting without break, and whispering every dirty thought you have constructed in your time apart.

And then he becomes completely and utterly unhinged. Taking you in his lap, he pulls you facing away from him, still seated to the root. He bounces you, one hand around your neck, as the other rubs your clit. It can't be comfortable for him with the wood beneath you and still he is too driven by the cries you're making in the sound of his name to care about anything but this next thrust-or the dozens that follow.

"Nobody knows just how dirty you get for me, isn't that right baby? How deep you take my dick in this perfect little pussy? Yeah?" He slaps your clit with just enough pressure to make you jolt until he lifts his hips and makes you forget of the sting it leaves behind.

"How loud you get? It's a miracle nobody has called the cops yet. You sound like you're in pain, shit-" He turns you to him with the grip around your neck moving to your jaw and turning you to him.

"You good baby?"

"Harder-"

"That's my fucking girl?" You're lifted with a gasp following you as he takes you into your room. You are only allowed the reprieve of wood beneath your soles for a second before he's rutting you into the bed. Hand pushing your face into the sheets to somewhat muffle your screaming, all you hear is the repetitive "yeah"s in the mix of your name as he wallows in you.

"Do I have to worry about anyone else ever knowing about how good you feel?" You are torn away from your blissful daze at the question.

"What?" You turn and face him, seeing the phone pointed towards you. The heat from your skin accelerated until it is now the marrow in your bones and you can't cool it, not that you want to.

"Who fucks you deep enough to make you soak his cock like this?"

"Rafe!" You manage as he pulls your hair and makes your back arch for him.

"Who makes you dizzy and shit when he knows just where to hit?"

He pulls you to him, against his chest until you can look up at him.

"Who loves you enough to prove to everyone on this goddamn island you're his?! Huh?"

"RAFE! GOD! YOU, RAFE?" You sob, the pleasure almost painful as he grips your hip with one hand and keeps the phone recording in the other. The video is shaky and then disposed of as his cum begins to shoot from his heavy balls and up his shaft.

"On your knees, baby-" He takes the phone back, pointing it to your face. As always, he kisses you sweetly and runs a thumb over your lips, before you take him behind your smirk.

"Ohhh baby-" You accept him slowly before opening your throat to him. Eyes locked and cheeks prepped to be hollow, you wait as he cocks his head before powering through. He thrusts.

Twice.

Once.

And then becomes a blur.

Only grunts and 'fucks' leave between moans.

"Shit baby, you're gonna make me come- you want it?" He asks, managing to open his eyes long enough to see you nod. Digging your nails into his thighs, you drive him to pulse into your throat, over your tongue, and along with your swallow.

"Open-" he points the camera to show just the good girl you are.

"I fucking love you, baby, and now nobody will question who you belong to again."

"I don't think they do, Rafe..." You laugh it off as he helps you to your feet and into his arms within your bed.

As you fall asleep, you hear him tapping away on his phone before finally focusing completely on you. You rest well within his arms, satisfied in the countless orgasms you had as he reached his own, sweet dreams awaiting you that pale in comparison to what it means to be loved by Rafe.

Across town, Topper's phone buzzes. A video file from Rafe. The new phone, bought not even ten minutes after his last one was smashed sits in wait for the message.

MP4 file.

It is opened. The sound of slurping around the impressive shaft, angry and near completion is spliced with the sight of you spread for him on the stairs as well as the hip of the bed. Your cries are only of pleasure and they echo as the video plays.

"Stay away from my girl." Comes a warning meant for Topper.

Only it isn't Topper's eyes that come to the scene.

And it isn't Topper's life that gets the threat.

It is your brother's and he has just been waiting for an excuse to let out his own rage out against Rafe.

MASTERLIST

[luveline]

hot bombshell bau!reader flirting and winking at spencer every chance she gets and poor spencer just gets hot and bothered very flustered and blushing😋😋

i love you jade i read ur blog like it's the daily newspaper<33

I love you anon, thank you for requesting ♡ fem!reader

"So," says a voice, low and syrupy as warmth spreads up Spencer's side, "how's my favourite agent?" 

Your perfume a subtle fragrance of jasmine and vanilla alike, sweetness that lingers —and Spencer knows, having thought of you every time he walks past the sugar ring donut stand by the Staples Mill Station for weeks— you put a hand on his shoulder and lean in for a one-armed hug. His skin erupts with goosebumps. 

"Y/N," he says, sounding much too much like a wimp for his own liking. He clears his throat. "When did you get back?" 

He's afraid to look at you. He doesn't have a choice. His heart skips a beat at the state of you, which is to say you look stunning in your dark clothes, a tight cut top that borders unprofessional and a pair of thigh hugging pants that pass the border completely. (He's kidding. Mostly. You're dressed fine. He's a loser, is all.) 

"This morning. They couldn't keep me from you if they tried, handsome. You look good." You disengage from his side. Spencer's relieved and regretful at once. "I love the haircut, they take a little more than you were expecting?" 

"Is it too short?" he asks unsurely. 

"It's perfect."

Spencer's taller than you but he never feels it until you're looking up at him, pretty eyes and quirked lips, permanent amusement in your gaze. "I missed you," you say.

"Y/N," Hotch says as he descends the steps to the bullpen. "We talked about this." 

"Pen and Morgan do it every day." Your eyebrows pinch together. 

Hotch doesn't say anything else, an empty coffee mug in hand as he passes. You don't baulk at his disapproving look, the opposite, sitting on the edge of Morgan's desk to kick your kitten heels gently, a slow back and forth that has Spencer's eyeline pulling down your legs. He shakes it off, but not before you've noticed. 

"You don't mind, do you, babe?" you ask. "My flirting?" 

It'll probably kill him sooner rather than later. "No. Don't mind." 

"'Cus I can stop, I promise. But you're the kind of boy that should be flirted with, you know? And the kind of smart that makes you crazy attractive, which is unfair. It's not like you needed help in that particular department." You lean back as you talk, scrounging around Morgan's things.

"Second shelf," Spencer says. 

You stop your searching to grin at him. Pleased, you reach down to the second drawer of Morgan's desk and find what you'd been looking for, a coveted, half-eaten pack of cherry twizzlers. 

"But we're not like Pen and Morgan," you say, bringing a twizzler to your mouth. 

"We're not?" Spencer asks, confused. He may not summon the necessary charisma to flirt back, but he likes what you have. 

"Nope." You take another bite, chew, leaving Spencer in anticipation. Finally, you swallow, lips curving into an even stickier smile. "'Cus Pen and Morgan are never gonna happen. They're better as friends…" 

You slip down off of Morgan's desk, leaving his twizzlers behind. Spencer has enough sense about him to anticipate your approach. He's proud of himself for the composure he maintains as your footsteps slow. He even takes a step back to follow you, to your abject delight. 

"But we're not just friends, are we?" you ask softly. You lift your chin. He can smell the cherry on you. 

"Y/N, enough," Hotch says from somewhere behind. You refuse to look away, and while Spencer fears his chief's tone, he manages to hold your gaze. "HR will mandate another presentation." 

"It's alright, Hotch," Spencer says. His cheeks are flushed and his palms are clammy, but his voice holds up. "I don't mind." 

"I'm sure you don't." 

"This could all be avoided if we took this somewhere a little more private," you murmur. 

"Enough. I won't tell you again, Y/N. Shouldn't you be helping Penelope with her ViCAP recalibration?" Hotch asks pointedly. 

Spencer takes it for what it is; an effort to separate you from each other before it goes too far. You know it too, rolling your eyes at Spencer like you've a shared secret —Can you believe this guy?— clasping his arm loosely in farewell.

"See you later, Spence." You call him handsome, babe, bub, even sweetheart, but Spence is the worst of all of them because of how you say it, your voice entrenched in pure honey. His heart pangs as you go.  

Hotch lingers by Spencer's side, coffee freshly filled and steaming in rings. "You know, you're getting better," he says sympathetically. 

Spencer rubs the bridge of his nose roughly. "Thanks." 

[barcaatthemoon]

familia || alexia putellas x reader ||

how alexia realizes that you're the one.

"amor, what is taking you so long?" alexia huffed as she tried walking into her bedroom. her body hit the door, which didn't budge an inch since you had locked it. alexia groaned, pounding on the door until you walked over to open it. "what is taking you so long? if you do not hurry up, we will miss dinner completely."

"don't rush me, i'm almost done," you told her. alexia whined as she leaned against the doorframe. you looked ready, which was the frustrating part. however, alexia knew how you were, and you'd be insistent that something was missing.

"well, you could have fooled me," alexia said sarcastically. you swatted at her shoulder for the comment. alexia was unbothered, aside from a few dramatic noises as you sifted through your jewelry to find the perfect piece.

all of alexia's whining would be over the moment that she saw what you were looking for. the only issue was, you had entrusted alexia to put it back in your jewelry case after it was picked up from the cleaner's. several of your pieces were not in their rightful places, which meant that alexia had definitely been in the case, but you couldn't find the necklace.

"what are you even looking for?" alexia asked you. you held up your hand to silence her. you needed every bit of your concentration to find this necklace. you had met alexia's mother and sister separately many times, but rarely would both of them be together while meeting you. there were always game days, but those meetings tended to be rather brief.

"here it is!" you exclaimed as you pulled it up from a spot opposite to where you had asked alexia to put it. you were very particular about where your things went, something that alexia often made fun of you for. your spaces in her apartment were often much more chaotic, but you swore up and down that it was all perfectly arranged.

"a-are you sure that you want to wear that one?" alexia asked as she watched you put it on in the mirror. you were beyond certain that you wanted to wear this necklace that alexia had bought you. it was a choker style necklace with an 'a' charm in the center, something that she had bought after a lengthy discussion about how open you were going to be about your relationship. alexia wanted to keep things more private, but compromised with the necklace.

"of course i do. i like to wear it whenever i can," you told her. alexia smiled as she walked over to pull you into her arms. she pressed several kisses to the side of her face, all of them trailing towards your neck. "now, let's go. come on, we don't want to keep your mother waiting."

…

alexia knew to expect eli fretting over her. it always happened during their monthly family dinners. alba usually showed up earlier or even the night before, so eli had plenty of time to fuss over her youngest. alexia tended to be a bit busy, so she couldn't stick around as much.

"oh look at you, far too skinny. alexia, aren't you feeding this poor woman? you and i both know that i made sure you could cook properly before you left this house!" eli was quick to push past alexia and straight towards you.

you laughed nervously as eli pulled you further into the house. your recent weight loss was less because of alexia's lack of cooking skills and more due to the coaches and trainers putting you on a diet. in fact, alexia had been vehemently against it whenever it was first brought up at training. if anything, you swore that alexia had been trying to soften you up in her spare time.

"mami, i swear it is not me. the coaches have put (y/n) on a cut," alexia explained. you thought that she sounded a bit frantic, but you didn't think anything of it.

"well that is just stupid. she's already practically a skeleton." eli prodded at your ribs, causing you to chuckle a little.

"i promise eli, i am fine. a little cranky, but ale takes it with a smile and is very patient with me," you said. eli seemed to relax a little at that, but she still seemed a bit unhappy.

"well, why don't you take a seat at the table while alexia and alba bring the food out," eli told you. she led you over to the table where two glasses of wine were already waiting. alexia pouted as she shuffled into the kitchen to find alba drinking something a little stronger.

"mami's been so excited about (y/n) joining us. she didn't even tell me that i haven't been eating enough," alba huffed.

"at least mami loves her," alexia reasoned. she was feeling a little jealous at her girlfriend taking up all of her mother's attention, but alexia was more than happy that you got on with her family well.

"she loves her so much that she's forgotten about her actual children," alba grumbled. alexia swiped the bottle out of alba's hands, taking the last couple of drinks for herself in one big swig. the bottle was dropped into the trash before the girls grabbed the food and brought it out.

unsurprisingly, eli piled food onto your plate, despite your reminders that you were on a cut. alexia promised to finish whatever you couldn't, despite her plate being bigger than yours. while they had you on a cut, alexia was on a bulk. she couldn't spend as much of her training with the team as she would have liked, so she had spent that extra time lifting, which you were very appreciative of.

"so, i was looking, and there's a play on one of your upcoming off weekends. it's right after you get back from london. i was wondering if you wanted to go," alba said as she turned towards you and alexia.

"that sounds fun," you told her.

"but we might go out. it's been a while since i've had time to take (y/n) out. i was thinking ibiza," alexia said. alba frowned as she turned fully towards you, her subtle way of letting alexia know that she wasn't invited.

"well, we've got a pretty nice vacation in france coming up in the summer. besides, alba and i have been talking about going out to see another play. we had so much fun the first time." despite how gentle you were being, alexia knew whenever she had been rejected. you were choosing to spend time with alba over her, which was a nice thought, but alexia hated it. she no longer wanted you and alba to be friends with each other now that it was taking up her time with you.

"i mean, you do whatever you want," alexia huffed. she crossed her arms over her chest as she turned her attention to her food. alba was quick to come in and distract you from alexia's little sulking session. she knew that you'd go back on your agreement to go to the play, even though you had been wanting to for months now, and alexia hated going to the theater with you.

…

"alright, you take good care of yourself, nena. don't let that one get you down too much, okay?" eli pulled you into a tight hug. you nodded, thanking her for inviting you to dinner before you went over to alba. alexia and her mother spent a little longer on their goodbyes, but you were sure it was just because eli's attention had been on you for a good portion of the night.

"bye albs, i'll see you for brunch?" you asked. alba pulled you into a hug as she shook her head.

"sleep in, cook for alexia, she needs you more than i do," alba said. the two of you looked at alexia, who looked very pensive. you were afraid that she thought dinner hadn't went well as she pulled you away from alba and towards the car. you weren't surprised when alexia just shoved her sister away as they muttered their goodbyes to each other.

"i had fun tonight. thank you for letting me come with you." you knew that you sounded nervous, but you couldn't help it. alexia pulled onto the road and kept her focus on it. the car ride home was silent, something that only made you feel worse. alexia didn't talk to you until the two of you were dressed in comfortable clothes and just sitting in the living room together.

"te amo," alexia said as she placed her hand on your thigh. you glanced over at her. alexia had an unreadable expression on her face, the same one that she always did whenever she was rewatching old games. "my family does too. mami would adopt you if she could, and alba really likes spending time with you. i didn't think that i could get that again, not so quickly."

"you're not mad about tonight?"

"i couldn't be mad about my family loving you. if anything, i am elated because it means that every feeling that i have about you is right. i could never love somebody who didn't get along with my family. i can't wait for the day whenever we get to bring little babies with us to my mami's for the weekend."

"babies?" you questioned. alexia nodded as she moved to sit on your lap. it was a rarity that alexia got like that with you, so you just sat back and accepted it. "how many exactly?"

"two, maybe three. three little putellas girls. one of them will have your eyes, and even if she smiles like me, they'll still light up like the sun when she does. the second, she'll just like me, stubborn and maybe a little too serious, but she'll love like you. she'll love so much like you that her heart will break, but we'll be there to pick up the pieces every single time until her sisters are old enough to help. the third one, she'll look like you, and i won't ever be able to tell her no." alexia had a dreamy look on her face as she told you about the little family that she had planned in her head. you had never thought of a family like that, but alexia was doing a good job of convincing you.

"you know, i'll have to have your last name first. unless you're going to carry," you told her. alexia hummed thoughtfully as she thought about it. if alexia carried, she'd have to retire, but you could still bounce back from a pregnancy.

"then tomorrow, we go ring shopping," alexia stated. you wanted to make a quip about her actually asking, but you already knew there as no use in her proposing. you had wanted to marry alexia for a couple of weeks now, but you didn't want to push her before she was ready. "maybe if mami and alba can make it, we can go to the courthouse."

"even if they can't, i'd still marry you." you leaned forward to press a kiss to her cheek, unsurprised when alexia turned her head so that you caught her lips.

"if that's the case, then we'll go after breakfast tomorrow. i don't want to wait any longer than i have to in order to make you mine."

[sturnsdarling]

teenage dirtbags, introduction

Skater!Matt needs help with his essay, and Overachiever!reader is the smartest girl on campus

vibe check: enemies(?) to lovers au, childhood acquaintances, no warnings this is just a blurb to set up the vibes.

1k words

A/N: This is just the intro to what I plan on being at least a five part series. I don't ship blair and dan but lowkey this is them (i've fallen down an edit rabbit hole and now i kinda ship them lol)

part one, part two

love and cigs, merc

You and Matt had never really liked each other, you were completely different people, and despite going through every grade together, and somehow ending up at the same college, you definitely wouldn't classify yourself as friends, or even acquaintances. Honestly, you couldn't stand him, with his boyish charm, eye watering smile and breezy attitude, he was insufferable.

Matt was interesting, to say the least. You never saw him without his head phones in and feet planted firmly on his skateboard. His wardrobe seemed to consist solely of dirty band tees, cargos that didn't fit him and beat up sneakers. He was the furthest thing from a scholar, his idea of an extra curricular activity being how many screws he could loosen in the Deans office before the man had a brain haemorrhage over his chair or desk falling apart every other day. Every grade he got was just above average, 'consistently uninspiring', as he called it, and despite the fact that he was actually quite smart, he never wanted to be anything other than exactly that, average.

You on the other hand, we're almost the exact opposite. Your grades were the highest in the entire college, the best they'd seen in years, actually. You ran multiple clubs, were the president of not one, but two societies; philosophy and classic literature; and tutored everyone from under to postgrads. You were clean cut and classic, pleated skirts with knee high socks and a collared shirt, tucked under a vintage sweater was your personal uniform; you looked as smart as you were. You were every schools dream, painfully smart and ridiculously driven, everyones favourite over achiever. From the bows in your hair, to the Plato or Dostoyevski tucked in your arms, all the way down to your vintage platform loafers, you were extraordinary.

The day it all started,

Your books were tucked neatly in size order against your chest, hair tucked behind your ears and knee socks tight against the bottom of your thighs as you headed to your second lecture of the day. The halls of the literature building were as busy as you'd expect it to be on a Wednesday, filled with people all going about their days and trying to sound as smart as possible in front of their new pretentious friends.

The sound of skateboard wheels against the brown linoleum echoed behind you, followed by the huffs and puffs of said pretentious people.

Matt rode through the halls, swerving through the students with ease as he tried to catch up with you, eyes trained on the way your hips moved in your pleated skirt. He called your name, and the sound of his voice made your eyes roll to the back of your head, so you kept walking.

Matt picked up his speed, pushing off with his leg to reach you. he called your name again, this time as he pulled up next to you, kicking his board up and holding it in his hand, jogging slightly to walk shoulder to shoulder with you.

"you walk way too fast" Matt said, only slightly breathless.

"people tend to do that when they have somewhere to be" you said, attitude thick in your voice as you kept your eyes trained on your destination.

Matt was looking at you, grinning at your consistency in hating him.

"where ya headed?" He said, stepping in front of you with a light jog, walking backwards and finally gaining your eye contact.

You huffed, a faux smile forming on your face in response to his cheesy grin.

"what do you want, Matt" you said, continuing your pace and slightly impressed at Matts ability to walk backwards without bumping into anyone.

"how do you know I want something?" Matt shrugged, squinting his eyes at you in bashful accusation.

"because we haven't had a conversation in... three years? and you look like you want something" You stopped walking, tilting your head to the side, "so what is it?" you looked him up and down quickly.

Matt pressed his tongue to his teeth with a smile, stopping in front of you, "I need your head"

Your face screwed up instantly, "I beg your pardon?" you scoffed.

Matt chuckled, shaking his head and rubbing the back of his neck with his palm, "not like that, I mean, I need your brain"

You cocked your eyes to the side, waiting for him to say words that actually made sense, "I'm gonna need a bit more clarity than that, Matt"

"I need your help with an essay" Matt said, biting his plump lip slightly with pleading eyes.

"no" you shook your head with a scoff, stepping out from his figure blocking your path and continuing your stride down the hall.

"come on, y/l/n, please?" He jogged after you, "I'm desperate", gently pressing his shoulder against yours.

"why would I ever help you?" you scoffed, looking straight ahead and ignoring the sentiment of him still calling you by your last name after all these years.

"cause I'm desperate" Matt was looking at your profile, repeating his earlier claim, "and we're friends"

you scoffed again, "we are not friends, Matt" you said, rolling your eyes.

Matt searched his brain for an example of your friendship but came up blank, "okay, fine, we're not friends" he grinned, "but we've known each other forever and.... it's nice to help people" it was the only thing he could think of.

You ignored him, shaking your head with an uncontrollable smile attempting to form on your face at his persistence. Matt continued to walk with you, begging, pleading and saying your last name over and over again like an irritating child, telling you that you're the smartest person he knows, and that he'll fail without your help.

"whats the essay on" you rolled your eyes, giving in and looking to him.

"existentialism" Matt said, his ears perking up at your interest.

You huffed, stopping once more. People continued to rush past you and Matt as you stood face to face in the centre of the hall.

"if I help you, you'll leave me alone?" You questioned.

"absolutely" Matt nodded

you rolled your tongue over your teeth, deadpanning at Matt.

"fine" you said, bluntly.

"yes!" Matt cheesed, "you are an angel sent from heaven, thank you"

"come to my dorm tonight, seven o'clock and we'll get started" blatantly ignoring his compliment.

"I'll be there" Matt said, placing his board on the floor.

"it's the franklin building, room three, if you cant find it then i'l-" The sound of Matts wheels rolling away cut you off.

"i'll just follow the smell of vanilla and academic overachievement, I'll find you" Matt said from over his shoulder, skating away from you down the hall.

You rolled your eyes as you watched him weave in and out of students, dropping out of sight as he rode his board down the flight of stairs to the exit.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10 @cherib3lla @jetaimevous @witchofthehour

[tomriddleslove]

Omg I have a THEODORE NOTT request for you

Super duper angst hurt comfort

Theo’s dad basically hurts the reader and sends her back to Theo as a warning to stay away from such mudbloods and its just heart wrenching guilt and hurt and tending to her wounds through treat

Song: Half a Man by dean lewis perhaps?

I already have.

✩Theodore Nott x Reader (request)

Summary: The one where Theo has the one person he loves the most hurt by his worst nightmare. Alternatively: He thinks he’d rather die than see you in pain.

A/N: I DID MANAGE TO DO IT BY TODAY!!! I’ll be responding to the next few requests soon. You said comfort but didn’t specify a happy ending 😺

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse, blood.

Theodore Nott never expected to fall in love.

It seemed rather bleak for him, to be honest. He didn’t have the time to think about love when he was too busy wrapped up in navigating the life he had ahead of him.

One couldn't blame him though. With his family as the only example of what love could be, he certainly didn't have a good impression.

Theodore couldn’t recall a single time when he had seen his father treat his mother with kindness or respect.

Let alone love? A truly laughable notion.

Theodore's father had not shown a single ounce of love to his wife, or Theodore. Even on that godforsaken day when Theodore had witnessed his mother die, his father had simply delivered a swift strike to his face and told him to ‘man up.’

So to put it simply, The absence of love in his family cast a shadow over his perception of relationships, making it difficult for him to fathom the idea of falling in love himself.

Then you came.

You came, and god, Theodore doesn't remember how he lived without you. It wasn’t a whirlwind love, a sort of fell fast and hard, rather you entered his life like a slow and steady rain, seeping through the foundations of Theodore's life till you had consumed them completely, crumbling them down against his own will.

It rained, and you became the quiet storm, soft yet unyielding.

Love came like the easiest thing when he met you. It wasn't foreign, or a distant concept; instead, it felt like the most natural and effortless occurrence in Theodore's life. Love with you was as simple and uncomplicated as breathing, a seamless rhythm that he hadn't known was missing until you came along.

You were more than shocked when Theodore admitted he didn’t think he could ever fall in love. The boy, who loved you as though he was born to (he argues he was), who would so tenderly kiss your forehead and hold your hand, not capable of love? The one who would leave his coat for you during the winter months and bring a spare scarf because, he knew you were stubborn, and he was worried you'd get sick, not deserving of love?

You kissed him deeply and made him swear he'd never think of that ever again.

You reminisced on Theodore like some sort of lovesick fool separated by war from their lover, though it was merely only the summer holidays. Whilst Theodore would want nothing more than to come with you, his father demanded his presence back at home. You knew little about Theodore's mother, and even less about his father. Anything leading up to a conversation about them would simply result in Theodore immediately redirecting the conversation, becoming a tad more guarded for the next day or so.

It’s not that he didn’t trust you, because he wholeheartedly did. He would place his beating heart in your hands even if you had a knife in the other, for he trusted you that much.

No, in fact, it was the very opposite. Theodore knew you, and he refused to let you ever get involved in that part of his life. He swore he would never let his father even lay his eyes on you.

He would have loved for his mother to have met you. He doesn't remember her that well, but he's sure, some sort of instinctive feeling within him, that she would have loved you.

You had been back in Hogsmeade a mere 2 days before school had started, to stockpile on some supplies for school.

Students were permitted to start returning to Hogwarts three days before school began, and you would always go back early, valuing having the near-empty castle. It meant you could settle back into a school routine comfortably, and have some time alone before school resumes.

It also gave you time to do stuff for Theodore. You didn't know much about what went on at his house, but assuming from the way he’d come back absolutely exhausted with bags under his eyes, you figured it wasn't good.

It seemed to be the same routine almost every time you'd come back - he comes over to your dorm (luckily for you, all your dormmates essentially lived in their boyfriend's dorms, as they were all friends with one another, so you had it all to yourself 99% of the time). He’d kiss you hello and wordlessly take off his shoes and jacket. You’d lie on your bed and he’d come lie on top of you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He would rest his head on your chest, the sound of your heartbeat soothing him, as he listened to you talk about your holidays till he fell asleep, feeling safe for the first time, unburdened by his worries.

He’d sleep, and you'd trace the furrow of his brow. You ached for the ability to just, alivieate him of everything he carried so close to him. But you knew that healing was a long journey, and you'd be there for him on the way.

You wander around a little bookstore, finding a book for you and Theodore to read. You paid for the copy, turning to leave the shop when you bump into a man.

You quickly offered a polite apology, even though his cold gaze and disdainful demeanour sent a chill down your spine.

Those eyes. They were oh so familiar to the very striking eyes of the boy you so loved. Come to think of it, the hair was the same too. Was this…..

"Watch where you're going, girl," he spat, his voice dripping with disdain

You clenched your jaw, swallowing the anger that threatened to surface. Keeping your composure, you replied evenly, "I apologize if I inconvenienced you, sir."

His eyes then flickered to the books in your hands, a sceptical look crossing his face. "You are a student at Hogwarts? What year?" he sneered.

You took a deep breath before responding, "Final year, sir."

Seeing an opportunity to shift the dynamics, you gestured towards Theodore's family resemblance. "You must be Theodore's father. The resemblance is striking."

His eyes narrowed, and he asked with an air of suspicion, "How do you know Theodore?"

You hesitated for a moment but decided to be honest. "We're dating."

Theodore's father raised an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and derision on his face. "Dating, are you?" he scoffed. "Tell me, girl, who are your parents? Perhaps I've heard of them."

A small smile tugs at your lips as you shake your head, responding. "I doubt you would know them. They're Muggles."

His expression darkened, and a look of pure contempt appeared on his face. "Muggles? Muggles?" He snarls, taking a step closer to you.

Theodore's father's face contorted with disgust, and his voice dripped with venom as he continued, "You, a pathetic Muggle, dare to pollute my son's bloodline? You're nothing but filth, tarnishing the Nott family name with your presence."

You felt a surge of anger and fear. This is what Theodore was trying to keep from you. That his family were prejudiced against your very existence.

Without warning, he roughly grabbed your arm, his grip tightening painfully. The pain shot through you, and you winced.

"Listen closely, Mudblood," he hissed, tightening his hold. "You're nothing more than a passing fancy for my son. If you have any sense, you'll sever ties with him before you bring further shame upon yourself."

Without a second to let you answer, he releases his grip on you, spinning on his heel as he storms out of the store. It takes you a second to recuperate and process what the fuck had just gone on before you turn and quickly dash out of the store, trying to catch a glimpse of his father. Sure enough, you spot him disappearing down a narrow alley.

Before you can stop to think, you chase after him, shouting as you do.

“Hey!” You snap, closing in on the distance.

Theodore was correct in one thing. He knew you well. And he knew that if you ever knew of his father, you’d get involved.

His father’s long black cloak billowed behind him, disappearing down a narrow alleyway that seemed to swallow his wrath. Fueled by a mixture of hurt and anger, you hurried after him, determined to address the injustice he had just unleashed.

Desperation laced your anger-fuelled shouts as you closed the distance. His brisk pace showed no signs of slowing, and as you reached out to grab his arm, the narrowness of the alley made it easy for him to turn around swiftly.

"How dare you touch me, you wretched Mudblood!" he hissed, his eyes ablaze with hatred.

Before you could react, he unleashed a hex.

It hit you with an intensity that sent a shockwave of pain radiating through your body. The force of the curse flung you backwards, and you collided with the cold stone wall, gasping for breath. A searing pain radiates throughout your body, and you cough, looking down. It was akin to some sort of slash, as though he had hit you with an invisible thing, a clean cut on your thigh, and arm. You see a drop of blood drip down onto your skirt and, dazed, bring your hand up to your face. You feel something wet, and when you pull your hand back it has a crimson red glistening on your fingertips, and-

oh.

There was a cut on your face too.

As you steadied yourself, you felt the searing pain intensify, a burning sensation spreading from the point of impact on your arm. Theodore's father approached with a malevolent satisfaction etched across his face. He looms over you, glaring down at you.

"You'd do well to heed my warning, Mudblood," he sneers, his voice low and menacing. "Stay away from my son, or next time, the consequences will be even more severe."

He cast a disdainful glance at your injured form before straightening up, his dark cloak billowing as he walked away without a second thought.

You took a deep breath, shuddering as you braced your palms against the cobblestone floor of the alleyway. You push yourself up, wincing as you try to ignore the throbbing pain in your body as you gingerly get up.

You gather your scattered belongings and look around, seeing nothing but the near-empty village. Summoning every ounce of strength, you began to limp back towards the castle, the weight of humiliation pressing down on your shoulders.

You felt exposed. The idea that Theodore had hidden such a massive thing from you, made you feel all the more humiliated.

You keep your head down and soon enough appear at Hogwarts. It doesn't give you the happiness it usually does, rather you just want to go back to your room and change, and sleep.

It was at this moment that you were rather glad that you decided to come back early, for you can only imagine the looks you'd get if it was packed full of students.

Exhausted, and simply just over it, you make your way up to the dorm. There are only two other students you spotted on the way, but they were far too busy snogging the daylights out of one another to notice you.

It reminded you of…

Theodore.

How would you face Theodore? Did you want to face Theodore?

No, you resolved, you didn’t. You couldn't comprehend keeping such a key detail from someone, let alone the person you loved. Why he did that to you, you’d never understand.

You unlock your dorm room door, dropping your bag at the door, You look up and to your utter confusion, see Theodore sitting on your bed. He looks up at you, the smile on his face very quickly replaced with a deep frown.

He gets up, and-

oh.

Never mind.

You did want to be near him.

You really wanted to be near him.

It was stupid really. You didn’t feel like crying at all, but the second you saw Theodore, that feeling very quickly resolved into the urge to bury your face into your chest, and not stop.

So you did.

Theodore's arms envelop you, and he holds you impossibly tight. He swears every sob that comes from you chips away at his being and he soothes you, rubbing your back as he holds you.

Theodore can count the number of times he's felt pure anger on one hand. Sheer rage. The type that consumes you from the inside out. Once when he was 8, and his mother passed away. He remembers hearing his father disregard the whole thing with such cruel indifference he felt as though a fire was blazing him from the inside out. As with many young wizards his age, he did not know how to control this magic.

He ended up setting fire to the library that day.

The second time, in 1st year, when Alicia Thornsby had made a cruel remark about Theodore’s home life.

“Well, my mother said that Theodore must have a horrible holiday. What, with his father being-” She starts, but she didn’t get to finish.

The teachers couldn’t comprehend under what vindication a child learnt a stinging hex strong enough to permanently mar the skin of the girl, but it was the first and last time anyone dared utter a word against Theodore.

That was the 2nd, and last time Theodore had felt unbridled rage, in his 18 years of life.

That was, until today.

Because, the sight of you, with blood on your cheek, sobbing into his chest, was enough to reignite that dormant flame of anger within Theodore.

“Who?” He manages to utter, voice strained.

You remain quiet, the silence punctuated by the occasional sniffle as you remain hidden in his chest.

He pulls back, lifting your chin. Your eyes are fixated on where the once-dried blood had washed onto his shirt, and he is fixated on you.

“Who?” He emphasises again, his eyes flickering down to the cut on your face. He runs his finger gently along the cut, and when he watches you wince he pauses, a flicker of pain crossing his face. The sight of you wincing, even at his gentle touch, shatters something within Theodore.

You hesitate before you speak, but ultimately, the words slip out of your mouth.

“Your father.”

The weight of those two words, "Your father," hung in the air, and for a moment, Theodore felt as if the very ground beneath him had crumbled.

His eyes widen momentarily, and he can't speak.

No, because there's a horrible feeling of fear, guilt, regret, perhaps a combination of all three, and it's lodged in his throat. It’s almost suffocating him, he can barely breathe, and it's constricting his airways.

The image of you, the person he held dearest, broken and bloodied, collided with the nightmare he had feared for years. He couldn't comprehend the cruelty his own flesh and blood had inflicted upon you, someone he cherished beyond measure. He speaks, and his voice is so heartbreakingly soft, a mere whisper weighed down by the burden of the truth that unfolded before him.

“I'm so, so sorry.” He utters, as though he prompted the hand that came down to hit you.

He believed he did. Because it was only by association, that you had been hurt by his father. That was why you were hurt, right?

His fault. All his fault. All his fault.

He has to take a deep breath and force himself to calm down and think.

Think.

His first priority was you. Always you. He leads you down to your bed and forces you to take a seat on the edge. You watch him as he disappears into the bathroom, reemerging with a damp washcloth in his hand. He kneels down in front of you, hesitating as he slowly lifts the hem of your skirt upwards slightly. He catches a glimpse of the gash on your thigh and that horrible feeling remerges again.

He gently wipes the cloth over the cut, leaning down to press a kiss on your skin. He mutters a few words, and with a small sharp pinch, the skin on your thigh begins to stitch up slightly. Not enough to fully heal, but to ensure it would in the future.

You don’t question how he knows exactly how to heal these wounds.

You know.

He does the same for your arm. Every second he stares at the cut, he feels his resolve shatter further and further, till he can tell whether he wants to cry or ensure the murder of his father with his own hands.

His hands come up to your face, and he lets out a shaky breath. He is ashamed to even look you in the face,

His own reflection of guilt and regret is etched into his features. He keeps his eyes focused on the task at hand, tending to the wounds inflicted upon you by the person who Theodore swore would never even set his gaze on you.

The room is filled with an anguished silence as Theodore continues his ministrations.

As he tends to your injuries, Theodore's mind is a battleground of self-recrimination. The echoes of your sobbing, the memory of your blood on his shirt, haunt him like a relentless ghost. "I'm so, so sorry," he whispers again, the words heavy with remorse as if he could somehow atone for the sins of his family.

With each stitch on your wounds, he feels the seams of his composure unravelling.

When he finally lifts his gaze to meet yours, the vulnerability in his eyes is palpable. The shame he feels is evident.

You muster a weak smile, a hand coming up to cup his face. Your thumb brushes against his cheek lovingly as you speak, your voice calm.

“It's not your fault,”

He wants to cry.

It is. It is his fault.

Theodore pulls you into an embrace, holding you tightly against his chest. The warmth of his embrace is both comforting and suffocating, a paradox of love and guilt; a conflict that threatens to tear him apart.

As Theodore lies down with you, the weight of his guilt still hangs in the air. He holds you as if trying to shield you from the world. He utters words of apology, repeating the words like a mantra.

“I love you.”

But amidst the soothing cadence of his voice, there's an undercurrent of resolution. The conflict within Theodore reaches its zenith, and a painful decision emerges. He knows he can't risk his father ever hurting you again. The love he feels for you clashes with the harsh reality of his future.

Theodore's grip tightens for a moment as if trying to hold onto the fleeting moments of solace. Yet, with a heavy heart, the decision he has to make is almost clear.

“It isn't your fault. Don't apologise.” You whisper, curled into his arms.

“It is. It's all my fault. I got you involved in this,” He utters, as though the admission is poison on his tongue.

“I’m not a good person. I have a horrible family, and he’ll want me to do horrible things, and I’ll have to do them.” He admits, voice breaking.

“No, you don’t. I’m here. I love you, Theodore. I won’t ever leave, and I swear you won’t deal with that alone.” You repeat, voice laced with conviction.

“I'm beyond help. Don’t give your heart to me.” He croaks.

You lift your head up from where it was resting, eyes gazing directly into his. You remain silent for a beat, then two, before you speak.

“I already have.” You respond.

Theodore should feel relief at those words, but he doesn't. Rather, he feels sick. Because he can’t, he won't risk you getting hurt again. He kisses you and pulls you back in, laying next to one another as he wraps his arms around you and holds you tightly, if only for one last night.

Because there was only one thing Theodore could do to make sure his father would never hurt you again.

He had to leave you.

[mapis-putellas]

𝑳𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x reader

Words: 2203

Warnings: none

Summary: when Alexia is sick and more stubborn than ever, yo do everything possible to make her feel better. [Based on this request, though I did change it up a little to make it fit alexia better. I hope that’s okay.]

[prompts]

It was rather late when you wonder into the living room from your shared bedroom, spotting Alexia sat on the couch clad in one of your shirts and a pair of baggy sweatpants just where you'd left her a few hours ago. In her hands was a small notepad and pen, and her eyes were fixated on the TV in front of her where one of her last Barça matches was playing.

It was against Sociedad, and they'd won, of course, but win or lose Alexia always had to watch the match back. There was always something she was under the impression she could fix. Always something she or someone else could do better.

Analysing, is what she likes to call it. Obsessing is what it actually was.

Normally, you were content to leave her be. However, today, you weren't so keen to let her do so. She'd woken up somewhat under the weather this morning. Nothing too terrible. Just the sniffles and maybe a light fever if her flushed skin was anything to go by, but despite that all you wanted her to do was relax. Maybe take some medicine or eat some soup. But getting Alexia getting her to admit she was sick was like trying to find something to watch on Netflix; almost impossible and always ends in a fight.

And so you had simply watched. You'd watched as she'd stifle somewhat heavy sneezes into the back of her wrist. You'd watched as she'd swallow heavily before wincing and reaching for the warm tea you'd purposely left out for her. And you'd even watched as she laid her head back against the couch before rubbing at her temples. All you had wanted to do was to pull her into your arms and convince her to let you look after her. But you hadn't, despite how much it had pained you to do so.

With a quiet exhale, you make your way properly into the room and sit down on the opposite side of the couch. Due to the fact that she was still so enthralled with the TV, you're able to give her a quick once over without her noticing. She appears okay, you think to yourself as you watch her scribble something on her notepad. A little sleepy maybe, but that was to be expected after a long day at training. But despite your longing for that to be the truth, you knew for a fact that it wasn't.

Alexia was amazing at hiding the fact she was sick. The last time it had happened was almost six months ago, and you'd been none the wiser until Mapi had snitched on her one night after training.

Alexia had cursed at her. Mapi made a sarky comment in response and whilst the two of them had chased each other around the house yelling obscenities at each other, you'd been left to sit on the couch trying to figure out just how you'd been so oblivious. There were no signs. No symptoms. She went to work, slept and ate fine and was still her usual stubborn self at home with you. In the end, it taken Ingrid comforting you to realise you weren't at all oblivious and Alexia was simply just really good at pretending to be okay.

It tells you now that despite the nonchalance she was currently displaying on the outside, beneath the surface was an completely different story that for some reason she doesn't want you to see.

It wasn't that she doesn't trust you because you knew for a fact she does. You'd been through way too much together for that not to be the case honestly. It was just how Alexia was, So, so stubborn.

The room goes quiet a few moments later, and you flicker your gaze away from Alexia and over to the tv to see that it was now off. In the reflection of the screen you could see Alexia setting her notepad onto the table along with the remote and pen. You look back at her just in time to see her stifle a quiet sneeze into her the back of her wrist.

"Bless you." You murmur, speaking for the first time in what feels like forever. Alexia does no more than nod with a smile that looks more like a grimace, settling back against the couch with a quiet sigh.

You do no more than watch her for a second before turning around in your seat and holding out your arms. Alexia raises an eyebrow, and you were quick to shrug as you spread your legs, one on the ground and one laid flush against the back of the couch.

Right now, you had no ulterior motives, you just simply wanted to hold her. Seeing the fact that you were being genuine, Alexia crawls over to you and all but collapses against your chest. She curls up on her side, letting out a congested sigh as she secures her arms around your waist with her cheek flush against your sternum.

You wrap your arms tightly around her shoulders, your hand cupping the back of her head as you press a kiss to the top of it and let out a quiet sigh. No words were spoken. They didn't need to be. You both knew for a fact she wasn't feeling all too great but neither one of you were willing to admit it for completely different reasons.

Right now, however, you weren't too concerned. She was allowing you to hold her, to comfort her, and that was way more than she'd done the last time and for that you were incredibly grateful. As you lay there in a comfortable silence, you feel Alexia slowly but surely growing more limp against you. Her breathing slows; her arms loosen, and when you look down, you see that her eyes were now closed.

Not quite knowing if she was completely out for the count just yet, you make sure to keep as still as possible as you trail your hand up and down the length of her back. Her head shifts slightly, now buried into your neck, and you feel more than hear the slightly raspy breaths that hit your skin. It takes a further ten minutes before you were sure she was actually asleep, allowing you to reach for one of the many blankets you kept on the back of your couch before laying it over the both of you.

You tuck it beneath her body, making sure it covered all of her so that only her head was peeking out. Alexia doesn't make a peep as you scoot a little further down the couch so that you were properly laying down, and you sigh a little in relief as you allow your own eyes to close . If she didn't want to admit she was sick, or take any medicine or eat any soup, you were at least grateful she was allowing herself to get some much needed rest.

*

You wake up the next day feeling uncomfortably hot, your skin damp with sweat and your cheeks deeply flushed. There was a heavy weight on top of you, and as you force your eyes open and glance down, you see that it was Alexia and that she hadn't moved a single inch throughout the entirety of the night.

With a quiet groan, you yank off the blanket in hopes it would help cool you down a little. It doesn't, and it makes you realist that it wasn't the blanket that was making you hot, but a very fever induced Alexia.

You take a few seconds to contemplate your next actions before slowly and reluctantly slipping out from beneath her. You land on your knees, soothing Alexia's furrowed brow with a gentle kiss on the forehead.

"It's okay. I'll be back." You whisper hoarsely, blinking the sleep out of your eyes as you rise to your feet and head through to the kitchen to grab the things you would need to help Alexia feel at least a little better.

You grab a cloth, soaking it with cool water before squeezing out the remanence and placing it onto the counter. You then grab some cold medicine along with some Tylenol, taking a mental note of the dosage Alexia was allowed to have as you carry everything back through to the living room.

Alexia was thankfully still asleep, although now she was laid on her back. Her breathing was so hoarse it almost sounded like snoring, and you can't help but smile slightly as you perch on the end of the couch and place the cool cloth on her forehead. Her brows furrow as her head turns a little to the left, and you place a gentle hand on her chest, rubbing it in gentle circles in hopes it would help sooth her.

It appears to do so, but her eyes do flicker open, her gaze hazy due to her fever.

"Hey, you," You murmur, stilling your hand before bringing it up and gently cupping her cheek. "You're pretty sick."

Alexia simply blinks as she brings a clumsy hand up to try and push off the washcloth on her forehead. You shake your head as you take her hand in your own, giving it a gentle squeeze and guiding it back down to her side.

"No, baby. Keep that on. You have a fever."

Alexia blinks again, her face scrunching up in mild discomfort as she lets out a single, hoarse sounding cough. You wince a little at the sound as you reach for the cold medicine, pouring the allotted dose onto the small plastic cup before holding it to her lips.

"No." She grunts, clumsily trying to bat your hand away. Her efforts prove futile as you move the cup before it could be hit, earning yourself a rather grumpy pout.

"I know," you sooth, reaching up to adjust the wash cloth slightly. "But it'll help you feel better, baby. You know this."

Alexia sniffles before once again shaking her head. She eyes the cup in your hand with a dirty glare, almost as though it was offending her by simply existing. You can't help but laugh a little despite the concern you were feeling.

"Alexia..." you trail off.

"No." She murmurs.

"Baby, come on," You shift a little closer, leaning down to press a kiss to her flushed cheek. The heat the greats you makes you all the more determined to get some medicine into her. "For me, please?" You weren't against begging if that's what was necessary.

Alexia hesitates before letting out a quiet whine. It was evident she didn't quite know what to do. She didn't want to take the medicine, but she didn't want to upset you by not talking it either. She stares at you with a pleading look on her face, her bottom lip quivering just slightly.

"I know," you whisper in understanding. "How about we come to a compromise?"

Alexia's gaze flickers over to the cold medicine you hands before looking back at you, almost as though she was saying anything but that.

"You don't have to take the cold medicine right now, but only if you take some Tylenol to help get rid of that fever." You say, and though Alexia hesitates again, this time she nods her head making you let out an almost silent sigh of relief.

Progress.

"Good girl," You praise genuinely, switching the cold medicine with the Tylenol pills, holding a single one to her lips. Alexia's lips part, and you set the pill on her tongue before helping her swallow it down with some water. "Good job. One more, baby." You assure, repeating the process once more before capping the bottle of water and taking her hand in your own.

Alexia squeezes weakly as she sniffles again, heavy lids threatening to close as she stares up at you with a pleading look on her face.

"What do you need baby?" You ask, trailing the pad of your thumb over the back of her hand.

Alexia wets her dry lips with her tongue as she reaches to loosely grab your shirt. "Cuddle." Is all she says, and though you internally wince about being once again trapped beneath your own personal furnace, you don't hesitate to nod your head as you slip back beneath her in the same position you'd been in before.

Alexia coughs hoarsely as she clings to your shirt, her cheek flush against your chest as her eyes once again slip closed. You use one hand to hold the still cool washcloth to her forehead as the other slips beneath her shirt to trail gentle circles on the too warm skin of her bare back.

"Thank you for letting me look after you." You whisper into her hair as you press your lips against the top of her head in a lingering kiss. Alexia says nothing, but she does crane her head up to press a kiss to your neck although it was more so just a brush of lips against the skin.

"Go to sleep baby. I've got you."

**

Tags:

@simp4panos @goldenempyrean @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @xxnaiaxx @marysfics @liloandstitchstan

[auroralwriting]

your beauty never scared me

spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

you’re scared no one will ever love and understand you, but spencer always has.

word count: 2.2k

warnings: a bit of unrequited love, comfort/angst/fluff, negative self thought, spencer is always a sweetheart, reader has a darker aesthetic

Maybe it was the fact that you came from a broken family from a young age. No, you didn't have a bad childhood, but it wasn't ideal for a young girl growing up.

It could have been the bad high school relationships, full of boys who didn't understand how to treat a young woman. Stuck at their stupid baseball games or waiting for them to finish their video game, sitting alone on their bed waiting for them to finish.

The most likely cause for your fear of love was simply the fear that no one would ever truly understand you, and therefore, never be able to love you right.

If you looked deeper, though, much further past the surface level, deep into the core, you would've realized that Spencer Reid had been there all along.

When you first joined the BAU, Spencer Reid was a typical little nerd, the glasses he wore even fulfilling the stereotype. His rambles about anything and everything were endearing, and lead you to begin your friendship with the man after he told you the history of your favorite movies.

"...its distinctive style with his signature blend of dark humor and whimsy. His imaginative vision, influenced by German Expressionism, is evident in the film’s surreal sets and exaggerated character designs. Burton’s decision to cast Michael Keaton as the chaotic title character and his encouragement of Keaton’s improvisation contributed to the film’s memorable, unpredictable energy. The innovative special effects and makeup, along with the creative set design by Bo Welch, further showcased Burton's unique approach."

By the end of his rant, Spencer had expected you to have been completely focused on anything else, but your eyes were trained on him, a small sparkle flickering in them.

"Spence, how do you know do much about Beetlejuice? You haven't even seen it before." you'd chuckled.

"I think Tim Burton is an interesting director. Maybe we could, uh, see it together sometime? If you want, of course." Spencer awkwardly fiddled with his fingers, the suggestion of the two of you hanging out outside of the work settle rattling his nerves.

You had given him a big smile, beneath your dark clothes and makeup was a heart of white and gold, a truly captivating soul. "I'd love to, Spencer! I own it, so you can come over whenever."

"Whenever sounds good," Spencer paused, thinking about what he had just said. "I mean, Thursday?"

"Thursday it is, boy genius." That name was usually reserved for making fun of Spencer, but the way you said it actually made his heart flutter.

Spencer would've never guessed that the girl, clad in dark clothing, the complete opposite of his own aesthetic, would be interested in hanging out with him. Then, it happened. And it happened again, and again, until you became friends.

Your friendship with the doctor grew. As you got closer, Spencer began to identify your fears and your tells. You played with your hair when you were nervous, bit the skin of your fingernails when you were anxious, tapped your foot or bounced your leg when you were impatient. He began to understand you on a deeper level.

It began to be the same for you. You knew his likes, dislikes, fears and worries. You understood his struggles with his mother and father, how sometimes this job didn't feel like enough until he made a true difference in someone's life.

Spencer Reid and you had connected in nearly a cosmic level, and that began to scare you.

It was two and a half years after Spencer had met you when he realized he had been falling in love with you for nearly a year. His small crush had grown exponentially. After Haley Hotchner's death, you'd taken in Jack for several days while Hotch planned the funeral and began to clean the house from the murders. Jack had taken to you quickly; he'd gone as far as to call you his favorite aunt.

Seeing the level of compassion and helpfulness you had displayed for Hotch made Spencer begin to realize that your friendship was beginning to move to the next level for him.

He began to think of you night and day, wondering what you were doing, how you were doing, what your plans were. He wanted to be with you, to feel your skin, linger in your existence. It wasn't until JJ had explained to him that that feeling he felt was love that he began to understand that you were in no place for him to admit his feelings.

Spencer never meant to profile anyone unless he was working, but he found it hard to not with you. He noticed your lack of dating, how even when you had the chance, you evaded it. He noticed your disdain to the notion of true love, or love at first sight, or even soulmates. It didn't take him long to piece together that it wasn't a hatred of love, no, it was a fear of it. However, he could never understand the why of the fear.

Now, you and Spencer had met five years ago. You'd both physically changed in looks over the time, but your friendship only remained and grew passionately stronger.

After the death of Emily, and finding out she didn't really die, Spencer had you as his rock. You grieved together, to the point that for three weeks, you lived with Spencer in his apartment. After you'd left, Spencer realized that he couldn't live without you anymore.

Spencer and you sat on his couch, the cold September month made you crave an early Halloween movie. So, Spencer put on his own copy of Beetlejuice he bought a few years back. The soft glow of the lamp cast warm shadows across the room, and the faint scent of popcorn lingered in the air. You could hear the distant hum of the city outside, blending with the soft rustling of the movie’s soundtrack.

"I like Adam and Barbara," Spencer hummed as he watched the screen. "They make a really good couple."

You nodded, "I guess they do,"

Spencer's brows furrowed at your words. "You don't sound convinced."

"I don't know," You shrugged, sitting up and crossing your legs. "He's sort of controlling over her. It's just too much, she's a strong woman."

"You mean he's protective over her in the afterlife filled with dead people they didn't even knew existed?" Spencer raised a brow, turning to you. "I'm pretty sure that's relatively normal."

Turning your attention back to the screen, you replied, "I guess so,"

Spencer sighed, finally deciding to ask you the question he'd been avoiding for too many years now. "Why are you so scared of love?"

His question made you turn back to him, a confused look on your face. "What?"

"You're so pessimistic about it. You always avoid dating, talking about it, anything to even do with love." Spencer explained. "I'm just curious, why?"

"Because, there is no way love that strong exists." You concluded, folding your arms over your chest. "That's why it's all in the movies. It's fake for a reason."

Spencer nearly chuckled at your words, finding himself in disbelief. Sure, he didn't really believe in soulmates, but he definitely believed in love. "Sure love exists," Spencer said. "True love has to come from somewhere to be spoken about. It's why its so deeply rooted into art and literature. Plus, with the psychological evidence of--"

"Okay, okay," You put your hands up in mock surrender. "I believe you, Spence." You'd never cut off one of his rants before.

"This bothers you," Spencer noted, his arms mocking your previous stance as they folded over his chest. "Why does this bother you so much, what aren't you telling me?"

You let out a huff of air in reply, your defences kicking into full gear. "Why do you care so much?"

Spencer stuttered over his words, “Uh- because it clearly affects you! It’s not hard to notice your dislike of it, and I want to know.” Spencer defended. He could see it in your eyes, though. You were too good of a profiler to not know he was lying through his teeth.

“The real reason?” You sharply replied, hating that Spencer was lying.

“Because I’m in love with you,” Spencer’s voice was filled with desperation. “Here you are, constantly belittling the idea of love when that’s all I want to give to you, and I don’t understand why.”

His words cut you like a knife. You hadn’t expected him to say that, let alone feel it. It almost made you feel guilty. “No one has ever understood me, Spencer. I don’t want to settle for just anyone who will pretend for their whole life that they know me when deep down they will never be able to understand who I am, what I need.”

“You think I don’t?” Spencer challenged. He tried not to feel offended at your words, truly. Yet they hit him like a slap to the face. He felt like he understood you.

“Okay, prove it then.”

Spencer was ready for this, “Your least favorite cases involve those with divorced parents. Not because of the affect on their children, but the affect it takes on them. You hate to see when it hurts one of them, or both.” Spencer’s first claim was true, and it caught you off guard. “You hate anything with a pumpkin scent, however, you enjoy real pumpkins because of their look rather than their scent. You bite your lip, tap your foot, shake your leg, all when you feel negatively.”

“Anyone could profile that,” You weakly replied, feeling thrown off at Spencer’s careful acknowledgment of your little tells.

“Are you afraid of love because no one will ever understand you, or because you’re scared you’ll never find someone who will.” Spencer finished. He watched as your mouth opened and closed, the words not quite making it out. “I see you, I hear you. My favorite thing is when you tell me things about yourself, your day, your feelings. Any day without you is a bad day and any day with you is a good one.”

Spencer’s words left your heart beating faster in your chest as you began to realize this is what you were looking for all along, but your own fear that you would never find it blind sighted you to the truth. The truth that Spencer Walter Reid was in love with you.

Spencer often recalled his own struggles with relationships, remembering the long hours he spent studying while his peers socialized. With him being so much younger, he had no way to truly connect with them. The sense of isolation he felt growing up made him cherish the connections he built later in life, driving him to seek genuine understanding and affection. On the other hand, your own problems with family and bad relationships drove you to hold a near-resentful feeling to love. It made you feel like it was something you could never have. That was something Spencer was beginning to see from your perspective.

"Please," Spencer's voice was softer, more vulnerable as his eyes pleaded with you. "say something."

"I'm sorry," you breathed. For a moment, Spencer thought you were about to reject him, until he saw the glistening tears form in your eyes. "I-I should've known sooner."

Spencer nearly chuckled, "I didn't want to make it too obvious."

"Spencer?" you asked.

"Yeah?" he replied.

"Why do you love me?"

Your question made his heart nearly crack at the raw fragility your tone held. All he wanted to do was to take you into his arms and sing you sweet nothings until you believed him, but right now that wasn't an option. "I love you because you're unapologetically you," Spencer's reply made you finally lock eyes with him. "You're so sweet and kind, you never try to hide the things you like and dislike. You're so bold and brave. You make me feel so alive, so wanted. Every moment with you is a reminder of how extraordinary it is to be around someone who radiates such genuine warmth and enthusiasm."

"You really love me?" Your voice felt meek in comparison to how your normal assertiveness and bravato sounded. Your heart felt three times bigger in your chest as a tear dared to slip down your cheek.

Before it could even leave your eye, Spencer brought his sleeve over his hand and soaked it up gently with the cuff. "I love you with every part of me."

"I think I want to love you, too." you admitted. It felt hard to say those words, to finally give into your darkest, most vulnerable desire of unwavering love.

"Even with your fears, you're beautiful." Spencer softly reached to graze your cheek. "This, your fears, nothing could ever scare me. I'll teach you to let me love you if I need to."

"That better be a promise," you slightly chuckled, holding your pinky out to the man.

Spencer smiled, locking his pinky with your own, "It's a promise."

As you held Spencer’s pinky in your own, a sense of peace settled over you. The weight of your fears began to lift, replaced by a tentative hope. "Maybe love isn’t as impossible for me as I thought," You whispered, reaching out to hold his hand. Spencer’s smile was both a promise and a comfort, signaling the beginning of a new chapter in your lives.

[r3starttt]

ON YOUR SIDE

PAIRING: blue collar! abby anderson x reader

CW: comfort. mentions of stress, and lots of insecurities, sad Abby!

SUMMARY: Abby comes home after work, exhausted, worn out and feeling insecure for it.

DON'T BUY TLOU | PALESTINE MP PALESTINE LINKS | DAILY CLICK

TAGLIST | - abby taglist: @imdrowningindispair @rkivedpages

Entirely opposite to her silent exit this morning to not wake you up from your very comfort in betweenthe pillows and blankets and Abby's warmtheventually fading next to you, Abby returns quite late, at night along the crickets who started to chirp. You heard the ingeniere of your- her, shared car, but didn't really bothered on standing from the chair you've been sitting for half a second if not less. Households aren't as peaceful as you've expected

With a stomp, a huff, and the interruption of your dinner, she doesn't even bother on taking her jacket off- Slowly and lazily but very much desperately walking to you. She embraces you with her arms around you, slumping over you from behind like a heavy blanket. Clothes and face slightly covered with an old layer of building grime.

"Hey babe," she grunts, hugging you loosely around the neck, chin on your head moving down your shoulder and over her arm to press the smallest kiss on your cheek. You could be mad at her, you could, but... she's so pathetically tired and all she wants is to smoosh her face into you and be with you. "You look exhausted. nice day?" Her response comes out a soft hum, following you with her same closeness as you look for a clean plate to serve her dinner as well.

"Go sit on the couch baby, have some rest" The vibrations of her groan on your neck tickles you, elicting that smile its for her and her only. You turn around, leaving the smallest kiss on the corner of her lips who weakly mock that smile on your face.

She grumbles, but her muscles have no fight left even to hold her own body weight. Abby obliges to your directions, though she's slower to reach the couch than you're sure she used to be. She lays down face-first, her long legs dangling off the edge, and mumbles something into the pillows. It doesn't take any genius to know that she's completely wiped out.

You, on the other hand, not as exhausted but surerly tired ,make your way to the table once again to serve her plate and enough food for her to end perfectly full. The second you catch a glimpse of her body from the kitchen, there's that smile again; she'd never come home this exhausted, and as much as you know this means she'd been busy- which makes her happy, for you it's like your heart breaking a little. All she does for you.

With quiet steps you go back to her, making sure the plates are served, the glasses are full- with some ice for her- You stand next to her, your fingers caressing her shoulders over her jacket for her to help you take it off- which she obbeys, taking the arms first. Then you go back to her feet, undoing the lace of her boots and taking them off with ease. Abby lets out a groan, blabbering something you'd asume was a 'thanks' as usual. your attention makes her melt.

And the moment you're right next to her scrunched sleepy face, kneeling into the carpet you just cleaned today- your eyes met, as if speaking with your minds. "I love you," she murmurs, lifting her face just slightly, just to look at you. She reaches a hand out to pet your hair lazily. "You're my favorite."

"Yeah, I know," you smile back at her, a proud shrug. Not like she had anyone else to take her boots and her jacket off, let her lay in the couch you also just cleaned today, make her favorite dinner because at the absence of any message today you knew she had been busy and what else than receiving her with that dish she adored. "Need you to go eat something, then shower and finally go to sleep." You just look at each other in silence, her eyes blinking, clearly struggling to keep herself awake- for you, mostly.

"Can't I just skip the eating part?" She tries to bargain with you, a small smile on her face to try and pull your heartstrings. "I'm not hungry. I'm just tired."

"Eat something, please," you lay your head nex to hers, the couch feeling a bit too comfortable the second your breathing mingles and your hands on her face- who were originally cleaning some dirt from her face- end pressed against her cheek and under her own hand. Abby cuddles closer to you, her face into your hand, and closes her eyes. You can feel, even without her saying it, how much she craves your touch on her. She's just plain worn out.

"I promise once you're back on your feet you'll have enough strength, you can still make it." your voice a murmur to give you both the last strength to finish the day properly. To have a decent rest and put on your alarms for next day. To go bed an cuddle for the most lovely five seconds before you both get lost in sleep.

Abby huffs at that, a very 'I know you're right so I'm going to do what you say' kind of thing. But she reaches up with her hand and grabs your chin between her fingers, which you follow, with wide eyes open once again.

"You're going to shower with me then," she mutters, very matter-of-factly. "I will," you nod. "Just hurry, don't want you sleeping too late."

For a few more seconds, she lingers on the couch, gathering her last remaining ounces of energy before she pushes up into a seated position, then a standing one, and finally walks herself over to the table.

-

You open the taps, releasing a cascade of warm water that immediately fills the space with a comforting steam. You step into the shower first, letting the heat embrace you.

Abby follows soon after, shedding her clothes and stepping into the shower with you. The moment the water touches her skin, her eyes flutter shut, and she lets out a sigh of relief as the grime and exhaustion begin to wash away. She stands there, letting the water rejuvenate her sore muscles and stiff joints, her body slowly relaxing under the soothing stream.

You watch her, a smile playing on your lips at the sight of her finally finding some respite. Her tired face reflects the strain of the day, but also the pleasure of the warm water. Your eyes meet, and without a word, she moves closer, resting her head against your shoulder with a lazy sigh. She mumbles something against your skin, her arms wrapping around you for support.

"Mhm?" you murmur, encouraging her to repeat herself. The pads of your fingers gently run through her braid, undoing it as the water cleans away the dirt. She hums in satisfaction, the tension in her body melting away.

"I said," she grumbles more clearly, "I smell awful. I'm gross to touch right now, and I'm sorry about that." She closes her eyes, leaning more heavily into you. "Everything kinda hurts when it didn't before. I need to stop working so much... and I hate that."

"Oh, Abby, baby..." Your hands leave her hair to cup her face, her cheeks flushed from the warmth. "You're never gross," you insist, shaking your head. Her sleepy eyes and furrowed brows mirror your own concern. "I just want you to shower because I know it helps you relax, okay? Nothing else." You press a small kiss to her lips. "If you're too tired, you can always take a break. I don't want you overworking. You know I'd love to be the one going to work while you stay at home, yeah?"

Abby pouts at your kiss, clearly wanting more than just a quick peck, but she doesn't argue. Instead, she lets her eyes flutter shut and nods slowly, listening to you as she always does.

"I know... it's just, this is my job, it's what I'm good at, and it'd hurt my pride to give it up." She shakes her head, burying it in your shoulder.

You nod, understanding the weight of her words. "It's not worth it if you overdo yourself every day... you've been coming home exhausted this week." You press a kiss to her shoulder, the water cleaning away the final remnants of dirt while your fingers work through her hair, now growing damp.

A weary sigh escapes her. She knows you're right, but it's hard for her to shake the mindset that resting means weakness. She wraps her arms around your waist, leaning her full weight against you.

"I know..." she mumbles into your neck. "I just- I hate being tired at the end of the day. It makes me feel useless."

"You're never useless, baby," you reassure her, your fingers gently massaging shampoo into her scalp. She forgets everything else as your touch works its magic, her groans of pleasure filling the space. "Oh my god, that feels good..." she murmurs, her whole face a picture of bliss and relief. "You're so good to me."

"Shhh, relax, yeah?" Your heart melts at her praise and her vulnerable state.

Her breath comes out in a shuddering sigh. She nods obediently, closing her eyes and allowing the water and your fingers to work away the tension in her muscles. Soon, she's practically boneless, leaning her body into yours for support.

"Fuuuuck," she moans quietly under her breath. "You're so good to me." Every praise she utters is met with a tender kiss.

Once you’re done with her scalp, you run the shampoo through her hair, giving it all a thorough massage. You let the water rinse the soap from her hair, quickly washing your own as well.

All she can do is stand there and lean on you. She's far in a state of bliss from the combination of hot water and your tender touch, making quiet noises occasionally that could be interpreted as moans if you felt inclined to. There was no need of more for you to understand she was head over heels for you.

After a few more moments, she finally seems to find her voice. "Babe?" she mumbles into your shoulder.

"Yeah, baby?" you mutter, letting the water run to clean the shampoo off your hair. You grab the soap and washcloth, passing it gently over her shoulders first.

"I love you," she mutters. The words come out as easily as she can summon them, and there's a hint of vulnerability in them, in the way her body leans on yours and how she stays still for you. "I love you. You know that, right? I... I never want to disappoint you."

"I'm pretty much aware of that, yeah," you nod, your words accompanied by a small laugh. She's far too tired and sleepy to realize it's not her heart but her mind talking, the fear and stress and overstimulation of life mixing with her genuine care.

You have her turning around to clean her back now, the pads of your fingers hugging her arm to do so. "You could never disappoint me. Never."

She goes easy against your touch, leaning back in your direction as you get to her back. Once the muscles are nice and loose from your touch, she turns back around to face you again, though her eyes don't open.

She doesn't want to sound insecure or doubting, but she can't help the words that leave her mouth. "I feel like I'm lettin' you down by being... tired."

"Oh no, baby," you whisper, taking a deep breath before pressing a small kiss right on a spot on her shoulder where the water had cleaned all the soap. "Don't ever think that again, Abigail. I'm so proud of you, and it breaks my heart to see you exhausted like this, but... it makes you happy, and you enjoy it so much? And that's just admirable."

Everything - your sweet kisses, your soft touch, your kind words - all of it makes her feel a little more vulnerable and a little more in need of you. She lets out a sigh against your kiss and shudders faintly.

"I do," she mumbles against your skin. "I love it. But... it's killing me, babe. And I'm not used to feeling so weak."

"Yeah, I guessed," your words another effort to change the weight of her words, trying everything to give her any comfort. "But it's fine, baby, it'll pass. I promise."

This comfort, however, only reminds her that you're right. You are - she does feel weak, vulnerable. But she loves it. She's safe here, and she'll be each day she comes back from work. There's at least one hour at the end of the day with comfort, love, calm- warmth assured for her.

"Yeah, I know," Abby mutters, reaching a hand out to run through your hair. "But I still hate it. I hate feeling so dependent."

"Dependent?" Your hands move down to scrub at her arms, down her stomach, her lower back. You can feel her muscles taut and sensitive from exhaustion and tension. Abby nods faintly as you say the word. "Dependent. Vulnerable. Weak. I need you to wash me like a... baby right now. I hate being like this."

"There's nothing wrong with it," you shake your head, pressing another kiss against the skin of her shoulders. "I'll never expect you to come back home after work with all the energy- we're both working on this."

The exhaustion is still winning over, though, leaving her muscles slack and her mind weak as she tries to process what you're saying.

"I just hate feeling like this, is all," she says quietly. "I should be able to... like, take care of myself and wash my own body. I shouldn't need this much from you."

"But you do, and I'm so in love with it," you shrug. "You know, the idea of the day ending is horrible for me too because I feel like I never do enough for you, or myself?..." you pause, giving her enough time to interrupt. "You do plenty, babe- Probably too much."

You shake your head. "Anxiety eats me alive, and then I see you and I realize I get to take care of you, cook food we'll eat together... shower with you and clean the dirt off your body, massage you... kiss you, hug you. And then I think, I feel so at peace, we're both doing it just perfect," each word that brushed past your lips soft and soothing. Your hands finish cleaning her body, letting the water take the soap and dirt and sweat and anything else with it.

"Thank you for... being so damn good to me." She lets out a quiet sigh as the water starts to rinse the soap off of her body, her muscles still slack and relaxed just where you left them.

"Always," you murmur, your lips brushing hers in a tender kiss followed by small pecks. She responds with quiet, satisfied little moans, her mind too blank for conscious thoughts; she's relying solely on pure instinct and emotion at this point.

"Babe...." her mutter in between kisses makes you stop. It's the only word she can summon in her exhausted brain.

"Yeah?" you reply with a small nod, your hands moving to her cheeks, thumbs making small circles over the freckles adoring her pretty flushed cheeks.

It doesnt take long before Abby’s almost leaning into your hands as her eyes flutter shut again. She can't seem to form a single coherent thought, only able to respond in vague hums. Her own hands finally move up to your body as she leans in for more kisses, her body still lax from the combination of hot water and your gentle touch.

You smiled in between, her lips were sloppy and vague, and she couldn't stop but reminding you how much she's so grateful, how much she loves you each time the space between your bodies allowed her to speak.

It was such an intimate moment, so vulnerable.

It's almost like she's worshipping you with every little moan and sigh that leaves her mouth and the constant, almost desperate way she tries to respond to your kisses. There's a vulnerable honesty in her words, and also in her sounds and her body, as she clings to you like a lifeline. Every touch makes her shiver a bit, and she can barely speak as her brain is reduced to mush by your touch. "I love you," she whispers, like a mantra. "so much."

"Love you more," you whispered back.

[iiwaijime]

sunshine princess — k. tsukishima

tsukishima has always cared for you, but will he ever be brave enough to show it?

cws; angst, fluff, happy ending, kissing, fem!reader, petnames, arranged marriage to lovers, mentions of infidelity, swearing, not proofread i think thats all

wc; 2055

you're eighteen, freshly graduated when your parents tell you about their plans; nineteen when you meet tsukishima kei. he is calm, confident, and self-assured, a complete opposite of you — you're wondering whether it's possible to survive a fall from a skyscraper. not that you'd ever actually do it, of course.

the wedding happens a week before you turn twenty, and that night, tsukishima has the grace to at least pretend to not notice as you cry yourself to sleep. when you've almost dozed off, you hear him stumble out of bed and walk away. you wonder if he has a girlfriend, another partner, someone he truly loves, someone you're keep him away from. the freezer opens and closes. the prospect of you coming between two people too jarring to think about, so you try not to, and you are asleep when he gets back to bed.

the next morning, you're mortified at your appearance in the mirror, eyes red and puffy — much worse than expected, too. no wonder tsukishima had looked at you like that. oh, shit. you're a tsukishima too, now. you turn around, preparing to go to the kitchen to look for an ice pack — you don't remember seeing one, but it still gives you something to do instead of hating yourself and him and your entire life. when you're maybe halfway there, you bump into your new husband. he hasn't been expecting to see you here either, freezing in place with a couple of spoons in one hand. wait, spoons?

he holds them out to you awkwardly, brows furrowing as you stare at him. "what? take them, my fingers are getting cold."

you finally find your voice. "what for?"

"your eyes?" he says it like it's obvious. "i put them in the freezer last night."

oh. oh.

"t-thank you," you stammer, snatching them out of his hands, rushing back to the bathroom. maybe things aren't that bad after all.

living with tsukishima means you have to learn quickly that words are not enough — words are never enough. the first few days, it's difficult for you. when you cook something hoping he'll like it, and all you get is a cursory good, a distracted not bad.

it hurts, really hurts at first. you don't even want to be here, and the lack of appreciation makes it so much worse. that is, until, he invites his best friend, tadashi yamaguchi, over for dinner.

the two of you get along much easier than you expect — he's a complete opposite of your husband. when tsukishima is away from the table, he asks about the recipes. he's heard great things about your cooking, he says. tsukki will not shut up.

"i thought he didn't like it," you say. yamaguchi laughs at that, and that day you find out that with tsukishima, you have to look deeper than just words. you have to notice the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and his appreciative hums, and the way he takes second helping and sometimes even thirds.

and then one day he approaches you, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. he clears his throat, runs one hand through his already messy blonde hair, clears his throat again. he fixes his glasses as you stare up at him expectantly. "yes?"

"canyoumakesomemorestrawberryshortcake."

"what?"

"strawberry shortcake," he gets out through gritted teeth. oh, you realise. he's embarrassed. "can you make some mo—"

"of course!" you reply before he can finish, trying to spare him the humiliation. on second though, this does mean he likes what you make. life is suddenly a little bit nicer.

tsukishima (willingly) holds your hand for the first time on your first anniversary. you refer to him as kei, now, and he doesn't really mind either. he thinks it's pretty, the way you say it. but he'll never tell you that, of course. he buys you your favourite flowers, even though it's not supposed to be a special date, because you're only married because your parents made you.

you hold the bouquet with one hand. "kei, you didn't have to!"

"i wanted to," he shrugs. "you're not the worst person to do this with."

"oh," you sigh, and the smile on your face is real, so real, and so is the way his lips quirk up — a small movement, but it's there nonetheless. "you too, kei."

you turn to go put the flowers in a vase when he grabs your wrist, pulling you back gently. his hand slots perfectly into yours, and he gives it an experimental squeeze. you squeeze back, and his thumb brushes over the back of your hand. "i mean it, y/n."

"i know." it's hard to suppress the grin that's trying to take over your face as you say it. "me too."

handholding becomes normal after that, whether he's holding onto you in the midst of a crowd, or the two of you are at home and he's playing with your fingers lazily. sometimes kei's doing something on his phone — he uses it one-handed, even if it makes things more difficult or slows down his typing — and your hand is in his other one. your hands might lie in the space between the two of you, fingers tangled together, or maybe he's tracing shapes, letters, words onto your palm — whatever comes to mind. either way, you like it. you like him.

nowadays, he even kisses you(r cheek) goodbye before work, and if he's extra tired after, he finds himself melting into you. your presence itself comforts him, your existence a soothing hand over his brow. he hopes you don't mind where this is going.

spoiler alert: you don't.

you've just poured yourself a cup of coffee when your husband walks into the kitchen, rubbing at his bleary eyes. he looks like he's just gotten out of bed and come here. there's something different about him that you cannot quite place, so you ignore it, half-turning to face him. "morning."

"g'morning," kei responds. his morning voice is low, rough as he walks up to where you're situated between the counter and the kitchen island. his hand falls to your waist easily as he moves you out of his way to stand behind you. his chin rests on your shoulder as he stifles a yawn. "i want some too."

you hand him your cup and he hums gratefully after taking a sip. putting it back on the counter, he wraps his arms around your waist. his body curves over yours as he lets go of himself. the weight is comforting as it blankets you — maybe the two of you can stay like this forever. you relax into the back hug; he nudges your head with his. "can't find m'glasses."

oh. so that's what's missing.

"i'll help you find them," you suggest, not questioning his rather... clingy attitude today. it's been well over two years since the two of you got married, and while he has told you on multiple occasions that you can see whoever you want, your moral code is still not low enough to partake in what can basically be termed as infidelity. even if the marriage is arranged, and there are no feelings involved — that's a lie, you know by now that you've definitely fallen for your husband, and hard — you still don't want to do anything of that sort, which has lead to you becoming quite touch-starved over time. so when tsukishima started becoming more and more physically affectionate as of late, you didn't dare question it, savouring every moment instead. over time, it's gone from fleeting touches and hooking his pinkie around yours while he tries to look unbothered, to much more confident hugs and handholding. essentially, everything a couple can do together — except kissing.

that's not to say you don't want to kiss him; you really do. when you see him chewing on his bottom lip, lost in thought, you want to kiss him. when you see him lick his lips while playing volleyball at all the games that he's started inviting you to now, even from afar you want to kiss him. and when one of his old friends from high school texts him about something stupid and his lips turn up into a pout without him noticing, you definitely want to kiss him.

but you digress.

it takes a two-minute search to find them on the floor by the bed; the floor by your side of the bed no less. the covers are more messy than you remember, even though you're sure you fixed up your part of the bed. the blankets are messy, pillows squished. the only way it could possibly be this way is if someone had been rolling around and also hugging your pillows.

you and tsukki live alone. you don't have any pets. you didn't do anything, and tsukki definitely would not — would he?

"why're you even out of bed so early?" you ask him as he falls back onto the covers. "you don't have work today."

kei flushes — actually flushes, a pretty red hue spreading across his face as he thinks of an answer. "you... weren't there," he says carefully.

"i see." your reply is just as cautious as you test the waters; after all, this is the first time whatever the two of you have going on between you has emerged from where it was comfortingly held captive in words left unspoken. "well, i'm here now."

"good," he says, and there's the slightest hint of a smile playing about his lips as he pats the space beside him. "c'mere."

oh dear. you really are sleepy, aren't you? maybe you shouldn't have gotten up this early either.

this time, you're the one waking up alone in bed — fortunately, too, because extricating yourself from the ridiculous pile of limbs that the two of you become every night is one of the least favourite parts of your day.

you find him pacing around the living room, phone held up to his ear. "that's not fucking working, tadashi! she's my wife, i can't just tell her that!"

his eyes meet yours; you raise a brow. tsukishima looks like a deer caught in headlights, before he cuts the call and puts his phone down. "hi."

"hi," you respond. anxiety twists in your stomach, a dark creature from an inky pool that crawls out and takes all of you. "what can't you just tell me?"

"nothing." it comes out too fast, and he knows he's fucked up by saying it.

"o-oh." you take it brilliantly, in stride. "well, are you having an affair, or something?"

you try to play it off as a joke, but the fear and insecurity is pathetically apparent in your voice. "i don't mind if you are—"

"i'm not!"

"it's totally okay if you are! that was part of our agreement, right?"

kei groans. he's not sure whether he should be put off or attracted by the way you're hell-bent on lying your way through this. "i swear i'm not, y/n."

"then?"

he swallows harshly. oh well, now it never. "come sit?"

you comply quietly. if not an affair, then what? technically, it doesn't count as one, you have to admit. but still, what was all of that affection for, then? to soften the blow?

"i like you," he whispers. his hands twist around each other nervously, knuckles white. "i know this is weird because we're fucking married, but i do—"

"okay," you breathe. "okay, me too."

you've thought about kissing kei tsukishima way more than you should. and when his tongue slips out to wet his grinning lips and his hand brushes your hair away and splays out to hold your face in one fluid motion, you especially want to do that. so you do.

you like being in love with him. when the two of you are glued together, when he absentmindedly traces iloveyous onto your palm, when he draws hearts on your shoulders with his thumbs. when he becomes much more vocal about how much he loves you, exactly. now, you even get to hear him say it out loud.

"i love you," he says, kissing your pajama-clad shoulder. "my sunshine princess."

"fuck's that?" you ask him, laughing, but you like it all the same.

"you're that," he replies, and refuses to elaborate.

as it turns out, you like him being in love with you too.

been on that married couple shit lately thanks mom ig. my parents also used to call me somethinf along the lines of sunshine/little miss sunshine when i was a kid bc i was so happy. not so me now but ill take it:)

chest hurts when i inhale like stopppp.

anyways 2:30am so i'll sleep now. lot of care, take love.

also ive been stuck at 499 for hours now so what should i do for 500

tags !! @akaakeis + @smiithys (gen taglist open!!)

[trumanbluee]

lights out - deadpool / wade wilson

minors dni !! this is 17+ nsfw material !!!

please reblog if you like it! ᡣ𐭩

content: theres a black out in your apartment. wade asks you, "what's one thing you've always wanted to try?".

word count: 3.9k (jesus, sorry)

warnings: pegging, dirty talk, mentions of alcohol, sub!wade, established relationship, fingering (m receiving), this is quite literally porn with very little plot

a/n: hi !! sorry this is such a long one! i've never written something like this before, so i hope it's okay! please let me know what you think <3

you're sitting on the couch, chin resting on the knee of your right leg, the other tucked underneath you. wade's sitting on the opposite side of the couch, and he leans forward to take a slice of pizza from the box on the coffee table.

you take a sip of your rosé, leaning forward to get yourself a slice of pizza too. wade's fixated on whatever crappy show he's put on on the television, but you're bored (and horny, but that could wait until you were a few more glasses of wine deep.)

you huff, shuffling your position to place your feet in wade's lap. you finish your slice of pizza, setting your, now empty, glass of wine on the table. wade's still focused on the television, so you gently tap his thigh with your foot. he still doesn't look.

you sigh, slightly annoyed that he's giving the tv more attention than he's giving you. you give him one more opportunity, tapping his upper thigh with your bare foot once again. wade catches your ankle, attention finally turning towards you.

he's smiling at you, and he looks so cute and cosy in his pyjamas that you almost outwardly coo.

"whats up, baby?" he asks, thumb rubbing circles on the soft skin of your ankle. you smile softly at his caresses, but furrow your eyebrows slightly as you answer his question.

"..m'bored," you whine, rolling your head back against the pillow thats propping you up against the arm of the couch. wade chuckles, squeezing your foot affectionately.

"bored, huh? what do you wanna do, doll-face? i told you you could pick the show."

you shrug and go to speak, but are interrupted by a flash of light outside, followed by the booming sound of thunder echoing through the apartment. the lights flicker above you, before the room goes completely dark.

"..shit," you hear wade murmur, watching as the tv and fridge turn off too.

"y'better get creative, pookie-bear. power's out."

you groan, getting up and bringing the bottle of wine over to the couch, pouring yourself another glass. you also bring the candle you had lit in the bathroom, the light slightly illuminating the room. you sit back down on the couch, laying your feet back in wade's lap. he resumes his soft circles on your ankle.

"so, pookie, whatd'ya wanna do?" wade asks, taking a sip from his beer. the room is barely lit by the candle you've brought out, and you can only make out that wade's looking at you because of the city lights streaming in through the window behind you.

you shrug, taking a sip of your wine.

"i don't know, baby," you say, leaning forward to scratch an itch on your knee. wade uses this as an opportunity to pull you closer to him, nestling you into his side.

you don't put up any fight at all, easily settling in to his arm pit as he wraps his arm around your shoulder.

you sit in comfortable silence for a while, the hand thats not holding your wine glass tangles with wade's hand as it hangs off your shoulder, occasionally squeezing it softly.

the silence doesn't last long though, to be expected when you're with wade wilson -- but you don't mind, you'd happily sit there and let him drone on and on about whatever he was particularly animated about that day.

wade's voice cuts through the silence, and you hear him swallow as he takes another sip of his beer.

"if you could be any vegetable in the world, what would you be, and why?"

you can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the question, pressing your face into wade's side to stifle your giggles.

"what the fuck question is that, wade?' you laugh, looking up at him. you're close enough to be able to make out his face in the darkness, and he's looking down at you, a fond smile on his face.

he puts on a serious voice, stating sternly, "a very fuckin' serious one, princess."

you laugh, shaking your head, but you answer anyway.

"i'd be a cucumber, i think."

wade chuckles, and you feel it rumble in his chest as you lean into him.

"a cucumber, huh? why? 'cause you're cool as fuck?"

you laugh, nodding your head. "exactly, baby. y'know it."

he chuckles, taking another sip from his beer.

"what else've you got for me, wade-y?" you ask, tilting your head to look up at him. he puts a finger to his chin in thought.

"chocolate or vanilla?"

you laugh softly, looking at him with an 'are-you-serious?' expression.

"you know this already, doofus."

he puts his hands up in mock defence, "fine, fine. um... marvel or dc?"

you laugh loudly at this, stifling your giggles into wade's shirt again, shaking your head with a smile.

"..well... batman is the best super-hero, maybe ever.." you say trailing off, "but probably marvel, i guess, 'cos you're not dc, baby."

wade laughs, and you hear him mumble a playfully dejected, "fuckin' batman" to himself.

you laugh, leaning forward to pick the bottle of wine up off the coffee table, pouring yourself another tall glass of rosé. wade guzzles the last of his beer, setting it down next to the now empty wine bottle.

he leans back against the couch once again, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you back into him.

wade's hand slips beneath the fabric of your top, his hand gently rubbing the skin of your shoulder and the top of your arm.

"..last one, mm baby?" he says, continuing to caress your skin.

"what's one thing you wanna do with me that we haven't done yet?"

you almost scoff at this, knowing exactly what wade is trying to suggest. he's been trying to get you to let him fuck you up the ass for awhile now, but you'd always said no. so, you were gonna flip the script on him.

you pretend to think, eyebrows furrowing as you tap a finger to your chin in fake deep thought. you struggle to hide your smirk, stifling it by having a sip of your wine.

"hmm," you say, and your cheeks heat up as you go to speak, though you convince yourself its all the wine you've had, "..always wanted to try pegging, actually."

wade almost gives himself whiplash with how quickly he turns to look at you, your wine almost sloshing over the rim of your glass at his jostling.

"...wha-" he shakes his head as if trying to clear it.

"come again? this time in my ear?" he says, cupping a hand around his ear as though he didn't hear you.

you roll your eyes, playfully shoving wade's shoulder.

"i know you heard me, wade." you say, voice sounding bored, but your face shows your amusement, a smile poking at the corners of your mouth.

he takes a beat, looking at you and trying to figure out if you're serious or not.

"...you... you wanna... peg me?" he asks, his eye contact almost too intense as he speaks slowly.

"yes, wade." you say, matter-of-factly, "i know you did it with vanessa, and i wanna see what all the fuss is about. plus, maybe it'll finally shut you up." you throw that last part in as a joke, an attempt at disguising your obvious jealousy of vanessa knowing a part of wade that you didn't.

wade groans breathily, leaning his head forward to press into your boobs.

"..fuck, doll-face, why didn't ya' say something' sooner? y'tellin' me that i've been begging to fuck you like that, whole time you've wanted to do it to me?"

you nod, feeling sheepish the more the conversation continues. you feel your cheeks warm up, and quickly go to dismiss the idea.

"forget it... it's not--"

you're cut off by wade pressing his lips to yours in a chaste kiss, his hands coming to rest on your hips.

"who said i didn't want you to do it, hotstuff? fuck, can you imagine how hot that'll look? maybe we should record it."

you laugh, pushing him back by his shoulders.

"i think you're getting ahead of yourself a little bit, baby."

wade smiles, mostly to himself, and shakes his head in what seems like disbelief.

"i can't believe you wanna peg me," he mumbles, pressing a sloppy kiss to your pulse point. your breathe hitches, but you push him off.

"you asked me the question, wade!" you laugh, lightly shoving him off of you and leaning forward to put your wine glass on the coffee table.

wade gasps dramatically, holding a hand to his heart as you shove him off, albeit lightly.

"i did, didn't i?" he grins at you, "well... i can't deny the princess, can i? lets make the magic happen."

you giggle, not taking him seriously. he quirks an eyebrow at you.

"what? you don't think i'm man enough to handle it?"

he makes a show of flexing his arms and puffing his chest out.

"why don't we find out right now?"

wade jumps off the couch, grabbing your arms and pulling you up, leading you towards your shared bedroom.

you laugh softly, "baby! baby, wait... y'need to slow down," i laugh breathily, a twinge of excitement nestling in my stomach.

wade's already dragged you to the bed, and is in the middle of taking his sweatpants off, his t-shirt already discarded on the floor somewhere.

"y'gotta be like... warmed up first, right?" you ask softly, your cheeks turning pink slightly. wade coos.

"well... i mean... i can just heal, but..."

you cut him off, screwing your face up in disgust.

"what? wade, shut the fuck up. m'not just shoving a plastic dick up your ass with no preparation. i wanna do it properly."

wade's face softens at your words, and he leans forward to press a kiss to your lips before pulling his boxers down.

you know wade has a strap on, and he retrieves it from it's resting place amongst the rest of your sex toys in your wardrobe as you undress yourself.

wade turns around from the closet, his arms dropping to his sides as he takes in your naked body.

"fuck baby, y'so beautiful." he bites his lip, walking over and placing the strap on on the bottom of the bed.

you blush, shyly mumbling a thank you. wade laughs at your reaction.

wade must sense your uncertainty, and he throws you a bone.

"where d'you want me baby? on all fours on the bed?"

you nod, cheeks turning a deeper pink at the crassness of the situation. you take a deep breathe, putting the strap-on on and kneeling on the bed next to wade.

you spit into your hand, bringing it down to half-heartedly stroke his hardening cock. he groans, hips grinding into your hand softly.

"fuck, baby... don't stop.."

you pull your hand off at wade's words, reaching for the lube in the drawer of the bedside table. you squirt some onto wade's asshole, spreading it gently with your thumb.

wade lets out a deep breathe, burying his face into the pillows, muffling his moans as you slowly work your finger into him.

"s'this okay, baby?" you ask, unsure as you slowly press your lubricated finger into wade.

you don't get a reply, only breath moans as wade pushes back against your hand, "..please, baby... more..."

you shush him gently, working your singular digit deeper into him, curling it slightly.

wade lets out a soft groan, "..fuuck... just like that," he whimpers into the pillows, pushing his hips back to meet your finger.

"so good..so fucking good." he mumbles, and that spurs you on. wade already being fucked out from just one finger feeds your ego, making you feel more confident.

you rub his asscheek with your unoccupied hand, cooing a soft "relax, baby."

you hear him take a deep breathe, and his hole relaxes slightly. wade keens into your touch as you continue your soothing circles on his ass, quickening the pace of your singular finger.

"..please, princess.. more.." he whines, pushing his hips back to meet your finger.

deciding that he's stretched enough, you push a second finger into his asshole, scissoring the two to spread him open. you watch as wade's hips mindlessly buck forward, and you can see his pre-cum leaking onto the sheets.

wade cries out in pleasure, the sound muffled by the pillows. his hips buck forward as your second finger enters him, his body tenses at first, but he relaxes, whining softly as he pushes back to meet your hand.

"..fuuck, yes... jus' like that.." wade whimpers, shoving his face into the pillows beneath his head.

you rub soothing circles on his asscheek as you scissor your two fingers inside him, trying to loosen him up and prepare him for the strap-on.

"good boy, baby," you praise, caressing the curve of his ass as you move your fingers in and out of him at a quicker pace, "taking my fingers so well, yeah?"

wade nods frantically into the pillows, already too lost in pleasure to form coherent words. he pushes back to meet your hand, and you can feel his asshole loosening around your fingers as you scissor them open inside him.

you watch as his hole starts to relax and loosen around your fingers.

"m'gonna make sure you cum before i fuck you, kay baby?" you coo at him, your hand still rubbing your soothing circles on his skin.

wade whines as he moves his hips back to meet your fingers, nodding eagerly at your words.

"..y-yes... please... need t'cum.." he babbles from beneath you. you smile at his desperate voice, and begin to shove your fingers deeper into his ass, curling them up in search of his prostate.

at the same time, you reach the hand that was rubbing soothing circles on your ass around to stroke his cock, smearing his pre-cum down his shaft and swiping your thumb skilfully over the tip.

wade moans into the pillow, hips bucking into your fist, and you can tell by the way his length throbs in your hand that he's close. you fuck your fingers into wade with the same pace as you stroke his cock, watching as his hips stutter in uncertainty of whether to buck forward, or push backwards.

"c'mon, baby.." you murmur, squeezing your hand around his cock. the sensation of your fingers inside of him, and your hand tugging on his cock, is too much for wade to handle, and he strangles out a guttural moan into the soft pillows as he cums, his body tensing up as he empties himself onto your hand and the bedsheets beneath him.

you feel his asshole clench around your fingers as he shoves his face into the bed, his cock going soft in your hand as the last bit of his cum spurts out onto the sheets.

wade collapses onto the bed, spend and out-of-breath, his body relaxed and pliant, limbs heavy with post-orgasm bliss.

"mmm.. that was.. so good," he hums sleepily, burying his face into the soft pillows, "..now.. please.. need you inside me.." he whines softly.

you smile down at him, still seating on your knees on the bottom of the bed. you lean forward to capture wade's mouth in a soft kiss, rubbing his back soothingly.

"y'sure, baby?' you check in with him, wanting to make sure this was something he wants to do, though who were you kidding? wade was the freakiest person you knew, of course this was something he wanted to do.

wade lifts his head slightly, looking up at you through bleary eyes.

"..please, baby.." he whines softly, brows knitting together.

you smile at him softly, still rubbing his back soothingly, "m'kay, baby. get on your hands and knees for me, can you honey?"

he nods, slowly getting up and moving into position, his movements a little clumsy as his legs wobble from his previous orgasm. he rests his head back on the pillows, turning to look at you over his shoulder with a sleepy smile.

"like this, baby?" he asks, voice so small sounding that you can't help but coo at him.

you nod, smiling at him and affectionately rubbing the curve of his ass.

"good boy, honey." you praise, and wade's cheeks flush at your words, a strange mix of embarrassment and arousal flooding through hi as he bites back whatever noise of pleasure he was about to make.

"m'not a dog," wade mutters, causing you to scoff, laughing softly.

"no, y'not. what? you don't like being called a good boy, wade?" you ask, putting on a stern voice, though you're teasing him, having seen the way he bit his lip to stifle his noise.

his face heats up even more, if possible, and he lets out a small, embarrassed, whine.

"s-shut up.." he glares back at you, but there's no way of hiding the way his body reacts to your words, his heart racing and cheeks burning hot.

you laugh, almost cruelly, spreading lube down the length of the strap-on before lining up to wade's asshole.

"y'ready, honey?" you ask, voice soft as you rub his hip softly.

he takes a deep breathe from beneath you, letting it out slowly as he nods. he bites his lip, butterflies swirling in his stomach as he feels the cold lube against his skin.

"..y-yeah.. do your worst... or best?" he mumbles, looking at you over his shoulder, a gentle smile on his face.

you laugh softly, spreading his ass open with your hands before pressing the tip of the strap to your asshole.

"relax for me, baby.."

he takes another deep breathe, slowly letting it out as his body relaxes, his shoulders slumping forward slightly. you press the tip of the strap-on past the tight ring of muscles, and wade lets out a low moan, his fingers gripping the pillows tightly.

"..m-more..." he whimpers, pushing back against you.

you rub his ass soothingly as you slowly press into him. he whimpers and moans beneath you, his body tensing and relaxing in turns as he adjusts to the sensation.

he buries his face in the pillows, voice muffled as he begs for more.

"..please, baby.. s'good.."

you coo softly, pressing further into his tight hole as you continue your soft circles on his hips, "good boy, baby... takin' me so well.."

his cheeks turn pink at your words, and he pushes back against you, moaning as you bottom out inside him.

wade lets out a deep, shuddering moan as you fill him up completely, his body going tense and then relaxing as he adjusts to the sensation. he whimpers, and you can almost see the thoughts leaving his mind as you fuck into him with shallow thrusts.

"..oh, fuck... so good," wade mumbles into the pillows.

"such a good boy, wade," you coo, stilling your hips to let him adjust to the size of the strap-on inside him.

he lets out a low whine, shifting uncomfortably against the sheets, feeling empty and restless without your steady thrusts. he tries to push his hips back to meet yours desperately.

"..c-come on... keep goin'.." he begs, looking back at you over his shoulder, "..need it... n-need you.."

you tut, "barely fucked you, and you're already a mess, baby."

you begin moving your hips at a painstakingly slow pace. wade lets out a sharp gasp, his body writhing beneath you. he moans into the pillows, his hips moving back to meet your thrusts, your hands on his hips guiding him softly, thumbs rubbing soothing circles.

wade moans underneath you, jolting forward with every thrust you push into him with. you angle your hips up, searching for his prostate with every thrust.

you know you've found it when you hear a loud keen from wade, his face shoved into the pillows as he arches his back, as he moans loudly.

you keep your pace, angling your hips the same way over and over, feeling wade's thighs begin to shake as you rut into him. you squeeze your hands on his hips harshly, nails digging into the skin slightly.

he hisses beneath you, babbling nonsense as he whines incoherently. i continue my steady rhythm, relishing in the pretty noises slipping from your lips every time i thrust forward. i spit in my right hand, leaning forward and slipping my arm underneath you, wrapping my hand around your cock and tugging softly.

you feel wade's hips buck into your hand, listening to his soft whines as you skilfully swipe a thumb over his slit, smearing his pre-cum down his length as you continue the rhythm of your thrusts.

you tug at wade's cock, feeling his hip stutter with uncertainty of whether to buck into your hand or or push back against your thrusts.

"look at you, huh?" you tease meanly, slowing the drag of your hips, deliberately hitting the spot inside of him, over and over, "big, bad Deadpool, so fucked out by his little girlfriend he can't even form a thought."

you squeeze your hand around his cock, listening to him whine, babbling something that sounds like," ...f-feels so.. good..." into the pillows, drool pooling at the corner of his mouth.

you know he's getting close, his length throbbing in your hand as you twist your fist around it, slamming your hips into him.

"c'mon, honey.. y'gonna cum for me?" you coo, thrusting into him harshly as he ruts into your hand, his high-pitched moans muffled in the cushions.

he whines, a gently, "u-uh huh.. m'gonna..."

you deliver a particularly harsh thrust to his prostate before you feel his body tense up beneath you, legs quivering as he groans into the pillows, back arched as his hips jerk into your hand, thick ropes of cum spilling out onto your hand and the sheets below him.

you slow your hips, gently fucking him through his orgasm, cooing soft words of praise as his body goes slack beneath you with a guttural groan. you rub soothing circles on his back as you slowly pull out of him, a soft whimper sounding from him at the loss of contact.

you take the strap-on off, discarding it on the dresser before crawling up the bed, slipping in next to wade. he instantly snuggles into you, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your neck.

"how'd i do, baby?" i ask gently, voice barely above a whisper as you lay against me with your eyes closed. i know you're not asleep because i can feel you tracing soft circles on the exposed skin of my upper thigh.

"so good, doll-face," he mumbles against your skin, "..fuck, i can't believe you didn't let me record that. y'know the numbers that shit would get on only fans?"

i laugh softly, shaking my head, "next time, baby -- maybe. m'not making any promises."

wade goes silent for a second, before asking, his voice soft, "did you like it? was it.. fun f'you?"

you pout at how cute he is, twisting your body beneath the sheets to face him.

"wade, i just got to shut you up for more than a minute, of course i loved it." you giggle softly, bringing wade's hand up to your mouth and kissing his knuckles softly.

"seriously, i had fun, wade. don't worry about that." you assure him when he gives you a pointed look, eyes softening as you press your lips to his knuckles.

wade smiles cheekily, pulling you into him, "well, if that's how you're gonna shut me up, maybe i should start talking more, huh?"

you give him a look, laughing, "are you sure that's even possible?"

he smiles, "remember what happened the last time you thought i couldn't do something?"

©trumanbluee - reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated! but i do not wish for my work to be republished, translated, or copied. thanks!

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