#but it is SO tender that it almost made me cry a little; so i think i get a free pass??

[captain-huggy-bear]

Into the Penalty Box

Pairing: Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Jack has to put your son in the sin bin...

Notes: Short but I had this really fun idea for how Jack doles out consequences as a dad.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

"Jack, baby...Carter just bit Ellen." You're tugging Carter along behind you by the wrist gently, he's pouting at the entire way and dragging his feet. Ellen is in your arms sniffling and crying into your shoulder because her big brother (at the tender age of 5 years old) decided that the best way to get rid of his 'annoying' baby sister (of 2) was to bite her. Hard. On the arm.

"Let me see, baby girl." Your daughter holds her arm out to her dad, who's suitably sympathetic, cooing over the teeth marks and pressing a kiss there to 'make it better'. It brings a smile to her little face, tears starting to dry up, but leaving blotchy redness behind.

Once Jack has dealt with the issue of his baby girl crying he turns to his son who you've release your grip on knowing he's unlikely to make a run for it and has typically been pretty good at accepting punishment. Mostly because he's stubborn enough that he always wants to plead his case first.

Jack folds his arms across his chest looking down at the spitting image of himself at 5 years old, light brown near blonde curls, bright blue eyes, chubby blushing cheeks and many missing teeth. Carter is Jack, rowdy, loud, full of energy and from time to time fed up with having a baby sibling who wants his attention all the time. One day he'll grow to love it, hate when his sister stops idolising him, but for now? For now apparently biting has become his new solution and Jack had always taught him that biting was not something they did in their house.

You bounce Ellen in your arms, running a hand over her hair and down her back while you watch Jack crouch down to Carter's level. Jack, despite people's belief, was a disciplinarian. Just not in the usual way...he never shouted, he didn't scream, he didn't insult the kids, none of the typical old school dad stuff, but what he did do always seemed to work.

"Bud, you can't bite your sister."

"But she was being annoying!" It's like watching a second Jack, the way Carter folds his arms across his little chest and puffs out his cheeks as he pouts. You're surprised he didn't stomp a foot on the floor, but it seems he learnt from last time that that only got him more penalty minutes.

"I don't care, it's against the rules, bud, against the code. You've got 5 minutes in the penalty box, get." Jack points to the corner of your living room where the penalty box sits. At first the penalty box had been simply a pillow in the corner, but one summer Jack, Quinn and Luke had spent some time and money making a replica penalty box that sat perfectly in your living room. At first you'd been...less than pleased, but now it was the highlight of your parenting adventures. The way Carter would slam the little door closed, how he'd pout on the bench and drink from the water bottle you always put in there for him as he'd watch the little clock. Whenever he was in hockey gear it was made even better, especially the replica Devils Jersey Luke had gotten him one Christmas. Then it really was like watching a baby Jack sitting in the sin bin.

"But you bite mom!" Carter's face practically goes bright red with his frustration, brows so furrowed they're almost in his eyes and this time he does stomp his feet.

There's a beat of silence, one in which you do your very best not to laugh because Jack's play biting apparently has come back to haunt him. All those times he's come home and pretended to take chomp out of your arm or neck, every time he placed a kiss on your neck in front of Carter only to bite you lightly to make you laugh...

Jack tries everything in his power to remain stern, to not laugh, to not give in because fuck, he's really dug himself a hole with this one, "I nibble on your mom, I don't 'bite' her and I never hurt her. You were trying and succeeded in hurting your baby sister."

"Dad!"

"Do you want another 5 for unsportsmanlike conduct?" Jack's favourite tool whenever Carter or Ellen start to argue back to him, although mostly Carter. Ellen has yet to reach the terrible period of defiance that all toddlers go through.

"No..."

"So into the penalty box, bud." You both watch as Carter slumps off towards the box, slamming the door closed behind him, the wood and plastic wobbling slightly under the force of it.

He sits on the bench, arms crossed, glaring at the clock. Jack sets a timer for 5 minutes and you watch. There's something about watching either of the kids in the box that's interesting because you can see the moment they start to cool down and realise that maybe they're in there for a reason.

With Carter it's the way he starts to look towards Ellen, face scrunched up in guilt, biting on his little lip. You know at 2 minutes and 24 seconds in the sin bin, that Carter will never bite Ellen again and you know that he understands that he hurt her, really hurt her.

It's what has you putting her down and letting her waddle towards the box nearer to the time being over and what has you opening the box a minute early.

You lean into Jack's side and watch as Carter leans down and pulls his baby sister into a hug, before reaching for her arm and placing a kiss on the boo boo where he bite her a little too hard.

"'m sorry, Ellie. I shouldn't have bit you."

"'s okay, Cay-Cay" Because she always struggled to fully say Carter so he'd become Cay-Cay to her. She pats his cheek with her little hand and you know, you know it'll be okay, that you're raising two good kids even if they have their moments.

"Sin bin works again, and you wanted to get rid of it." Jack looks smugly down at you, all dimples and stupidly attractive smirk as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

You roll your eyes at him even as you lean further into him, "Yes, well, I guess you have good ideas sometimes...biter."

"Hey! You love when I bite you...just, maybe need to avoid the jokes around the kids...did not see that coming."

[singsweetmelodies]

Piarles + church ⛪️

digging through my inbox again for another one of my 5-sentence fic prompts from a year ago, because earlier tonight, i wrote this piarles drabble, and then Tia said:

well, my darling friend, my most favourite enabler and idea-giver: this isn't quite 25 chapters, but i couldn't resist. love you SO MUCH!! and here you go - the "after" section you requested 🤭❤️💙

Charles takes his first step into the church, and his breath catches. He might not be religious in any way, but he cannot deny that there is something about this place.

The inside of the church is lit up with a light that feels golden, spilling in through the door behind him and transforming, somehow, when it enters the church. Tall, graceful marble pillars stretch up to the domed roof, their fastenings etched with intricate gold carvings which catch and reflect the ethereal light.

In front of Charles stretches a long, marble-floored aisle with rows and rows of wooden pews on either side. The people sitting in those pews - all of Charles and Pierre's closest loved ones - seem touched by some kind of radiance, alight and glowing with happiness and love.

And at the end of the aisle... at the end of the aisle is the altar; a beautiful, imposing thing with its lighted candles and carved marble sanctuary and red, red cloth - but Charles is really only interested in the man who stands before it.

Pierre. Pierre, his best friend, his soulmate, and the love of his life.

Pierre, who is wearing a black-and-white suit with a blue tie the same colour as his eyes (and the same colour as Charles' soulmark.) Pierre, whose jaw drops when he sees Charles - and the altar is far away from the door, yes, but not so far that Charles can't see the way that Pierre swallows, hard, before his face splits into the most beautiful smile Charles has ever seen.

I love you so much, he thinks, which has always been his instinctive reaction to Pierre smiling. But it feels like it means more, today. It means everything.

Charles starts walking down the aisle, moving before he's even really processed that he's doing it, and with every step he takes, the soulmark on his chest burns a little warmer.

Charles has wanted this since he was seven years old, and he asked his Maman what her wedding ring was, and she smiled and said, "When you love someone so much that God paints their colour on your body, that's when you get one of these."

Then, when Charles was old enough to understand a little better, and begin yearning for the one person he thought he'd never get to have, he realised he'd probably never get to wear a wedding ring. Because if he wasn't going to marry Pierre, then he knew deep-down that he wouldn't marry anyone. Nobody except Pierre could ever be his soulmate.

But somehow, impossibly, the universe smiled on him, and agreed: nobody except Pierre could ever be his soulmate. Somehow, impossibly, Charles gets to have this.

In the next breath, Charles reaches the altar, and Pierre smiles again. It's softer this time, tender and intimate and full of so much love, and Charles knows it's meant just for him - not for the priest, or for the numerous cameras, or for any of the people gathered. Just for Charles. "Ready, my love?" he asks.

And Charles smiles back, slipping his hand into Pierre's, and he's never meant it more when he says, "Ready."

[gor3sigil]

Before starting T, when I socially transitionned, I was surrounded by radical feminists who saw masculinity as gross and inherently evil, something to avoid, something to make fun of, something to destroy. The other transmascs in my friend group, sometimes, told me that they didn’t knew if they really were non-binary or if they just were scared shitless of saying “I am a man”. Because they saw this as a betrayal to their younger self who had been SAd and abused.

I saw many of my masc friends and trans men around me hate themselves, not outing themselves as men because it would imply so so much, it was like opening the Pandora Box. Even when we were just together, talking about our masculinity was always coated with bits like “I know we’re the privileged ones but…”, “I don’t want to sound like I have it bad but…”, “Women obviously have it worse, but last time…” and we were talking about terrible traumas we experienced while taking all the precautions in the world in the case the walls were a crowd of people in disguise waiting to get us if we didn’t downplay the violence we faced, or like crying and being upset and being traumatized and afraid and scared and to say it out loud would make us throw up the needles we were forced to swallow every second of every day living in our skin.

Most of us weren’t on T yet, some of us were catcalled every day and harassed in the streets or in abusive relationships nobody seemed to care to help them get out of because they were “strong enough” to do it by themselves.

I was using the gender swap face app and cried for ours when I saw my father looking back at me through the screen. The idea of transforming, of shedding into a body that would deprive me of love, tenderness, and safety, was absolutely terrifying. I knew I couldn’t stay in this body any longer because it wasn’t mine, but I also knew that if I was going to look like my dad, my brother, my abusers, it would be so much worse.

5 years later and I’m almost 2 years on T, and almost 2 months post top surgery.

I ditched my previous group of friends. I was bullied out of my local trans community. But let me tell you how free I am.

I was scared that T would break my singing voice: it made it sound more alive than ever.

I was scared that T would make me less attractive: it made me find myself hot for the first time in my life.

I was scared that T would make me gain weight: it did. But the weight I put on is not the weight I used to put on by binging and eating my body until I forgot that it even existed. It’s the weight of my body belonging to me, little by little. The wolf hunger for life.

I won’t tell you the same story I see everywhere, the one that goes “I started going to the gym 8 times a week, I put on some muscles, I started a diet and now I look like an action film actor”, in fact if you took pictures of me from 5 years ago vs now I’d just have more acne, I’d have longer hair and still look like I don’t know what to do with myself when I take selfies.

But the sparkle in my eyes, my smile, tell the whole story way better than this long ass stream of words could ever.

I want to say some things that I wish someone told me before starting medically transitionning.

It’s okay to take your time. It’s your body, it’s your journey, if you don’t feel comfortable taking full doses and want to go slow, the only voice you need to listen to is your own. Do what feels right.

If you feel overwhelmed, it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to ask for support.

Trans people are holy. Everyone is. You didn’t lose your angel wings when you came out because you want to be masculine. You are not excluded from the joy of existence, from being proud of yourself, from being sad, from being scared, from being angry. The emotions and feelings you allowed yourself to feel while processing what you experienced when you grew up as a girl and was seen as a woman are still as valid as before. Nobody can take that from you. If someone tries to, don’t let them.

It’s perfectly normal to grieve some things you were and had before you started to transition, like your high soprano voice or even your chest. Hatching is painful. You can find comfort in things that don’t feel right, so making the decision to change can be incredibly scary and weird and you deserve to be heard and supported through this. Wanting top surgery doesn’t make the surgery less intense, less terrifying, less painful to recover from. When it becomes too much you have the right to take a break and take some deep breaths before going on.

You don’t have to have a radical, 180° change for your transition to be acceptable or valid or worthy of praise. Look at how far you’ve come already. It doesn’t have to show, you’re not made to be a spectacle, you’re human and it is your journey.

Oh, and last thing, you know when some people say “Oh this trans person has to grow out of the cringy phase where you think that you can write essays about being trans or transitionning or just their experience because it’s weird” ? If you ever hear this or see this online, remember all the people whose writing you read and, even if they were not professional writers, helped you more than any theorists did ? If you want to write, do it. It won’t be a waste. It can help people. Or it won’t, and even then, if it helped you, that’s enough.

Love every of my trans siblings, take care of yourselves. You deserve the world.

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw (Simon notices the outline of your thong that’s hidden under your yoga pants)

Simon isn’t even sure whether you’re doing this intentionally, trying to tease him, or you truly doesn’t realize how you’re testing his restraint, how he’s trying so hard not to just push you against the nearest wall in the gym and go down on you right now.

Your back is facing him, just standing few feet away in front of him, wearing that tight yoga pants emphasizing your supple thighs and ass in the most delectable way, squatting and let out tiny grunts here and there. The worst part is, he can see the thong you’re hiding behind the yoga pants, the outline of it so clearly for him, good that it’s just you two in the gym now, or he might just drag you back home and hide you from others’ ogling.

“Hey, what-“ His hands grab onto your arm the second you set down the dumbbell, your yelps and confusion doesn’t recognize by him as he shoves open an empty shower room and pin you against the wall, his bulge pressing snuggly on your pussy.

He’s mad hard, already leaving a dark spot on his sweatpants as he rubs it against your core shamelessly.

“You doing this on purpose, princess?” Pulling down your yoga pants, hooking a finger over the thin strip of your thong, he tugs it with a slight grin, letting it slap back against your hips. And that’s when you realize that the outline of your thongs’ actually visible even with the pants on.

“I didn’t mean it, Simon.” The noise of the running shower can’t cover your moans and attempted explaining, because he frees his thick, leaking cock from his boxers, chest securing you to the tiles, so he’s able to drag that aching shaft along your pussy, fucking your pussy lips and prodding at the clit till you’re a blabbering mess.

“Didn’t mean it? but you still made it hard for me, love.” The bulb tip slide into your soaking cunt easily. He calms himself and pants beside your ears, trying not to come immediately from how tight and warm your heavenly pussy feels. “You know how sexy you were when doing those squats, shoving your arse towards me, and kept reminding me you had a bloody thong that couldn’t even cover your pussy properly under the yoga pants?”

He rocks his hips fiercely, letting out all the pent-up horniness with each deep thrust, directly abusing the sweet spots and coaxing moans after moans from you.

The usually quiet man groans loudly every time he wrenches an orgasm out of you, the shower wash off your juices dripping down your thighs, before your eyes roll back and cry out, messing them with both his and your cum.

“Gonna come…ngh, fuck…” Seeing stars can’t describe how cock drunk you are now when you squeeze your cunt around his cock and tumble over the edge, the white hot pleasure corrupting your mind, overstimulated to your limits when he hisses—almost comes too early from your spasming walls and pinch your clit as retaliation.

“Fuck, going to paint your pretty little pussy with my cum again…gotta-oh fuck” Simon’s voice trembles when slamming into you one last time, filling you up nice and tight with his release. He leans his forehead against your shoulder, recovering from the aftershocks of orgasms together with you.

“-Gotta claim this fucking pussy again, 's all mine, yeah?” Murmuring and pressing a tender kiss to your nape, he grabs the soap and start cleaning you up, more from the aftermath of the sloppy make-out than your previous workout.

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

You met your incubus!husband late one night during a thunderstorm. Usually he wouldn't be out feeding in a time like this, but he was hungry... and once he caught a whiff of your scent, it was all over for him.

He entered through your window, ready to go into your dreams...

That's when he spotted you curled up on your bed, hands over your ears as you tried to stifle your terrified sobs.

His first reaction was... intrigue. Why was this human crying in the middle of the night? Why was she curled up with a stuffed animal, wasn't that a thing only children did when they were afraid?

The incubus felt something strange while observing your trembling form... but he pushed those feelings away. You were too panicked and scared to feed from, so he'd have to find a meal somewhere else...

But he paused when you looked up at him. Not because he was afraid he had been caught, no, he froze because of the look you gave him.

Your lip was trembling, hair messy and cheeks covered in tears. When you looked at him, he almost felt compelled to rush forward and pull you into his arms, to comfort you with soft kisses and gently rocking.

But why did he feel this way? Why was he beginning to walk towards your bed and reach out to place a hand on your hair to soothe your fear?

The way you instantly began to relax, leaning into his touch made him... feel something. Something other than lust.

"Thank you.."

His eyes lit up at the soft gratitude you showed him.

Had anyone ever thanked him before?

Before he could even think, his arms were wrapped around your body, pulling you in closer so he could shield you from the thunder and lightening. The loud sounds and bright flashes of light became blurry and muffled... and you finally found yourself able to sleep peacefully.

His visits became nightly after that. There was something about you that drew him in. He couldn't feed on anyone anymore, his heart wouldn't allow him.

You became friends quickly, though it was obvious to most that he was pining after you terribly. Every waking moment was spent thinking of you and the next night he'd be able to visit...

You noticed he was getting pale one late evening, his eyes a bit dull.

“Are you feeling okay, Lulu?”

His name was Lucian, something you learned after his second visit.

“Ahh… I’m alright. I just… haven’t fed in a while.”

Lucian settled down next to you, his tail gently caressing your thigh. It wasn’t on purpose, his tail was moving on its own due to how hungry he was. To anyone other demon it would be clear how much Lucian wanted to mate with you…

“Fed? You haven’t… um…”

Your cheeks felt warm against his shoulder. He sighed softly, nuzzling against your hair. No other person he had bedded with had a scent like yours. It was intoxicating…

“I haven’t had sex since we met.”

This made you feel kind of… flattered. The way he gently reached for your hand and held it, the soft smile he had when looking at you…

Oh.

“Is it… because of me?”

His cheeks flushed a light pink, and she looked away. “… perhaps.”

His tail swayed before beginning to move up the skirt of your nightgown. He immediately looked embarrassed, trying to pull it away.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… it moves on its own when I’m…”

You shook your head, opening your legs a little to give his tail access.

“Don’t be sorry. You’re hungry, aren’t you? Well…”

You smiled shyly, squeezing his hand back. “I… wouldn’t mind providing you with a meal.”

He was gentle, his tail slipping under your panty line to play with your clit as the two of you shared your first kiss.

Lucian tasted like strawberries and honey, you couldn’t get enough. When he reached a clawed hand to hold onto your soft cheek, you instantly leaned into his touch.

He had never kissed someone like this before. Usually they were quick, heated with tongue and gnashing teeth…

But you slowly licked his bottom lip, and he felt his cock twitch in his pants as he explored your mouth. It was so sensual and tender that he could almost cry.

‘I… think I love her…’

With that revelation, his slit pupils expanded and he pinned you down, his tail rubbing your own slick against your pretty hole before plunging in.

“L-Lucian!”

You whines out in a mix of pleasure and discomfort, getting used to the feeling of his tail fucking in and it of your as his lips moved to your neck. His tail pumped aphrodisiacs into your body, making your head get fuzzy and your pussy throb with need.

It wasn’t long before he couldn’t take it anymore. Your cum was intoxicating, he was starving!

Lucian sank his cock into your, watching as you writhed and bucked your hips, your pussy gushing and clenching around him.

The two of you were a heated mess of needy kisses and cum, both unable to pull away. He had already had his fill, but continued to fuck into your fat cunt, watching as his cum spurted out of you with each thrust.

By the end of the night the two of you were clinging to each other, exhausted but happy. He had never been so worn out in his life… or as satisfied. As Lucian gazed down at your sleepy face, he knew then that you would be his wife soon enough.

He kissed your head and fell asleep too, leaving his life of being an incubus that slept with whoever he could behind.

Lucian would be your devoted husband now, until you died, and even beyond that. A demon’s love could last lifetimes…

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @midromiell @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog

[gf2bellamy]

bet — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: you and spencer have a bet on who is going to be the first to expose your relationship content warnings: mention of a victim a/n: when i tell you this took me ages omg i was struggling

You and Spencer had a bet. 

A ridiculous, entirely unnecessary bet—but a bet nonetheless.

The stakes? Bragging rights, and the satisfaction of being able to tease the other endlessly.

The challenge? Who would be the first to slip up and accidentally reveal your secret relationship to the rest of the BAU team. 

Both of you knew that secrecy wasn’t exactly your strong suit. Between Spencer’s tendency to ramble when nervous and your habit of wearing your emotions like a neon sign, it was only a matter of time before someone pieced it all together.

And that was what made the bet so much fun—because neither of you wanted to be the one to crack first. 

Some mishaps had already happened, moments that came far too close to giving you both away. 

Like the time Derek had caught Spencer staring at you during a team briefing. “Hey, Pretty Boy, you got something to add, or are you just lost in thought over there?” Derek had teased, a smirk tugging at his lips. Spencer, predictably, had flushed a deep shade of red and stumbled over a vague response. 

And, of course, who could forget the case in Chicago when Hotch had walked into the room just as Spencer had brushed a strand of hair out of your face? The gesture had been so natural, so tender, that even Hotch had paused for a fraction of a second before continuing his sentence. You could’ve sworn he’d given you a knowing glance, though he hadn’t said a word. 

Right now, you were sitting at your desk, trying (and failing) to focus on finishing your report on the case from two days ago.

“Spence, what was the address of the place where we found the second victim?” you asked, tapping your pen on the paper as you glanced up at your boyfriend sitting across from you at his desk.

“1375 Oakridge Drive,” he replied almost automatically, barely looking up from his own report.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, jotting it down and trying not to get distracted by the little curl of hair falling onto his forehead.

The bullpen was unusually quiet, save for the faint clacking of keyboards and the low hum of the coffee machine.

That peace didn’t last long, though, as Derek and Garcia burst into the room, engaged in what sounded like a very enthusiastic debate. 

“Reid, listen to this!” Derek called out, cutting across the bullpen as Penelope trailed behind him, waving her arms dramatically. Both you and Spencer instinctively looked up from your work.

“Okay,” Derek began, leaning one arm casually on the divider of Spencer’s desk. “Do you think watching a rom-com with someone is romantic?” 

“Specifically with a friend,” Penelope interjected, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because apparently, Mr. ‘Romance Expert’ here thinks it is!” 

Derek rolled his eyes. “Come on, Penelope. It can be romantic. I mean, think about it—it’s all cozy, emotional, and half the time someone ends up crying or sharing popcorn. You’re telling me that doesn’t create a vibe?” 

Spencer blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question. He sat up straighter, adjusting his tie slightly as he considered his answer. 

“Well,” he began, his voice contemplative, “the concept of watching a romantic comedy doesn’t inherently equate to a romantic interaction. However, if the participants have underlying romantic feelings, the environment—such as sharing an intimate space or engaging in emotional dialogue—could certainly facilitate a sense of connection. For example, I—” 

He froze mid-sentence, his brain catching up with his mouth as he realized where he was going. 

Oh no. 

Your eyes widened in panic as you watched Spencer flounder. His lips parted as though he might try to backtrack, but the damage was already done. 

“For example…?” Derek prompted, his brows shooting up, clearly intrigued. 

Spencer quickly cleared his throat, fumbling for a save. “Uh, hypothetically. I mean, generally speaking. Like, if two people…were, um, interested in each other—not me, of course—then maybe…” His voice trailed off as he glanced at you. 

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, knowing full well that he was treading dangerously close to losing the bet. 

Derek narrowed his eyes, studying Spencer for a moment. “Hmm,” he said slowly, drawing out the syllable. “You’re acting a little weird there. Something you wanna share with the class?” 

“Nope!” Spencer said quickly, shaking his head so forcefully it made his curls bounce. “Absolutely nothing.” 

Penelope raised an eyebrow, looking between you and Spencer with suspicion. “Uh-huh. If you say so.” 

You decided to intervene before they could dig any deeper. “Alright, Garcia, what’s your stance on the rom-com thing?” you asked, redirecting the conversation. 

The distraction worked, and Penelope launched into an impassioned argument, effectively pulling Derek’s attention away from Spencer.

You shot Spencer a look across the desks, mouthing close call. He gave you an apologetic shrug, his cheeks still faintly pink. 

Two days later, you made the mistake. The one that was ten times worse than the rom-com slip-up Spencer had made. 

You were in the file room, buried in paperwork that Hotch had assigned to you earlier that morning. The hours had been long and draining, and you’d barely made a dent in the pile.

Derek was there too, flipping through some files, his eyes narrowing in concentration, while Garcia sat at the table, her usual flair of colorful banter filling the otherwise quiet room.

She wasn’t doing much work, but she was keeping the rest of you entertained with her gossip. 

“This is tiring,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible as you stretched and yawned, your eyes heavy from exhaustion.

You handed Derek a file, trying to keep your energy up, though it was clear you weren’t succeeding. 

Spencer, who had been quietly scanning through a set of documents, glanced up at you, and then took a step closer. “You should go take a break and grab a coffee,” he suggested, his voice warm and concerned. “I’ll take these off your hands.” 

You spun around to face him, smiling at the sight of him standing there, his sleeves rolled up and his hair slightly tousled.

His expression was a mixture of concern and adoration, and you couldn’t help the little flutter in your chest. 

You smiled at him, genuinely grateful for the offer. You’d been working for hours, and the fatigue was beginning to take its toll. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice soft with appreciation. Without thinking, you leaned in slightly and planted a quick kiss on Spencer's cheek, your hand instinctively resting on his face—something you'd done countless times without giving it much thought.

The moment your lips brushed his skin, time seemed to slow. You pulled back almost immediately, but not fast enough. Your heart skipped a beat as you looked up into Spencer’s eyes, wide and shocked.

His brown eyes were locked on yours, the same stunned expression mirroring your own. 

It was like a slow-motion realization hit you both at the exact same time—you just kissed him. 

Before either of you could process what had happened, a loud gasp echoed from behind you. 

“Oh my god!” Garcia squealed, her voice thick with excitement. 

You felt your face burn as you snapped your eyes shut, feeling a flush creep up your neck. You could practically hear Derek’s mischievous chuckle follow suit. 

Spencer's back stiffened, and you knew exactly what was coming next. 

“Well, well, well,” Derek's voice rang out, full of teasing amusement, “Look what we got here” His tone was almost dramatic as he clapped Spencer on the back. 

“Way to go, my man! Getting the girl!” Derek cheered loudly. 

You dropped your hand from Spencer’s face to his chest, your shoulders slumping as you sighed loudly.

It was out in the open now—so much for the bet. 

Penelope’s voice cut through the air like a burst of confetti. “I knew it! I’ve been saying it for months, but nobody would listen to me!”

She was practically bouncing on her feet as she grinned at the both of you, clearly pleased with herself. 

Spencer gave you a nervous but warm smile. You could tell he was about to say something, but before he could, you were swarmed by both Derek and Garcia. 

“I knew you two were adorable,” Garcia squealed, pulling you into a tight hug. “Oh my god, you two are going to be so cute together.” 

Derek, on the other hand, ruffled Spencer’s hair. “I’m proud of you, man.” 

You could feel your pulse racing as you glanced at Spencer, who was doing his best to keep his usual composure, but the hint of a smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

He gave you a look that could only be described as amused exasperation, as if asking, Well, I guess we don’t need to worry about hiding it anymore, do we? 

A quiet laugh escaped your lips. Spencer’s smile softened as his hand reached for yours.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured softly, leaning in a bit closer to him. “I didn’t mean for this to—” 

He cut you off with a gentle squeeze of your hand, his voice just low enough for only you to hear. “It’s okay,” he whispered, “I think it’s about time they found out.” 

Later that night, you and Spencer were lying in bed. Your head rested on his chest, and your fingers absentmindedly drew soft circles over his chest as you listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you.

His hand was gently resting around your waist, his thumb lightly brushing over the skin of your arm. 

"Today was fun," you murmured into his chest, the sound muffled but sincere. 

“A lot of fun,” he chuckled, the vibration of his laugh resonating through his chest. 

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, remembering the teasing from Derek and Garcia, and the way everything had just spilled out into the open.

“I for sure thought you’d be the one to lose the bet,” you teased, your voice light and playful. 

Spencer raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a soft smile. "I didn’t," he said, his voice playful but confident. 

“Why is that?” you asked, lifting your head just enough to prop yourself up on your elbow. Spencer met your gaze, his smile never wavering.

He was looking down at you with that soft affection that always made your heart skip a beat, but there was something teasing behind his eyes now. 

"You're more obvious than me," he said, brushing a strand of hair out of your face with his fingers, the touch tender. 

You immediately furrowed your brow, sitting up a little straighter. “No I’m not,” you said, a playful frown tugging at your lips. 

But the moment his fingers gently brushed your hair again, any trace of the playful frown disappeared. A warm smile spread across your face, unable to resist the effect his touch had on you. 

Spencer tilted his head, his eyes glinting with that teasing spark you knew so well. “Oh really?” he said, his voice laced with amusement, his gaze never leaving yours. 

You rolled your eyes at him, but the smile on your face betrayed you. “Okay, maybe,” you admitted with a mock sigh, before leaning back down onto his chest. 

Spencer’s laughter rumbled softly in his chest as he kissed the top of your head.

You snuggled closer to him, your face against his chest once more, feeling the beat of his heart beneath you.

"Goodnight, Spence," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. 

"Goodnight," he replied, his hand gently squeezing your waist as he kissed your forehead one last time. 

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　SAFEWORD

matt sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: Where Matt comes home angry after a stressful day and takes it out on Y/N, making her use her safeword.

WARNING: SMUT ‼️ explicit language, p in v, Mean!Matt, rough sex, slight dumbification/degradation, pet names, hair pulling, use of safeword, crying.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"Matt- please, I can't-" Y/N's body trembled under Matt's relentless touch, her breath hitching in her throat as waves of pleasure and pain intertwined in a cruel dance that had been going on for hours.

Matt had been different tonight; more intense, more demanding, more relentless. But beneath the surface, Y/N could sense the weight of something darker, something that had driven him to this edge.

He had returned from his day full of meetings with tension radiating from every pore, his usual warmth replaced with an icy determination that made Y/N’s heart race with equal parts fear and excitement.

She couldn't lie and say that she didn't loved how he pushed her, how he could make her body sing in ways no one else ever had, but tonight, he was pushing her beyond her limits. His hands were rougher, his words sharper, filled with a biting edge of degradation that made her cheeks flush with shame and arousal.

"Fuck, you’re such a dirty little slut." Matt growled, his voice rough, almost feral as he pressed her face into the mattress, his grip on her hips tight enough to bruise. "Look at you, so fucking needy. Is this all you’re good for? Spreading your legs and taking my cock?"

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, the sting of his words cutting deep. They had always enjoyed playing on the edge of roughness, pushing each other to the brink, but at that moment there was an edge to Matt’s tone that was darker, more vicious, and it scared her as much as it turned her on.

"Matt-" She gasped loudly, feeling his tip brushing against her most sensitive spot.

"Yeah, baby? You like being used like this, don’t you?" Matt continued, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. "Such a fucking whore, taking everything I give you, begging for more."

Tears pricked at the corners of Y/N’s eyes, her body barely keeping up with the intensity of his thrusts, each one sending shockwaves through her body, pushing her further and further into a headspace where all she could feel was him; his roughness, his anger, his need.

Her mind was a chaotic mess of conflicting emotions. She adored the way Matt had the power to dominate her, the way he could take control and make her feel small, vulnerable, but safe.

But now, there was no safety net, no gentle undertone to his words, no soft looks, or tender touches to remind her that this was just play. It felt real - too real - and it terrified her. She was on the verge of tears, her body betraying her as it responded to his cruel words and rough touch with mindless, desperate arousal.

"Answer me." Matt snarled, his hand fisting in her hair and yanking her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, burning with an intensity that made her stomach twist with a mixture of fear and need. "Tell me what you are. Tell me how much you fucking love this."

"I-I love it." Y/N stammered, her voice shaky, barely audible as she tried to keep up with the relentless pace he had set, shuddering. "I love being your s-slut, Matt. Please..."

"Please, what?" He demanded, interrupting her, his lips curling into a cruel smirk as he watched her struggle beneath him. "Please fuck you harder? Is this not enough?"

Her mind was spinning, her thoughts tangled in the web of humiliation and desire he had woven around her. She had always trusted Matt, trusted that he knew her limits. But in that moment, she could see no sign of the man who held her after, who whispered sweet words of love and reassurance.

"You’re so fucking pathetic, doll." Matt muttered in a mockery tone, his hand traveling around her stomach, feeling a small bulge below his palm. A smirk stretched acros his lips before he pressed his hand down on her lower abdomen, making her gasp as the sensation of his cock filling her completely overwhelmed her. "Look at that, dove. You’re so fucking full of me, you can see it, yeah?"

Y/N couldn’t stop the tears that slipped down her cheeks, a whimper escaping from her throat and her body trembling with a mixture of pleasure and pain, her mind reeling from the intensity of it all. She could feel herself breaking, her mind teetering on the edge of something dark and terrifying. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

Her lower body tried to react for itself, moving relentlessly while trying to move away from his hands, away from his touch. But Matt didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. He was lost in his own world, driven by something darker than either of them had ever encountered in their time together.

"Hmm, making me feel s'good, 'were only made for that... you’re not even good for anything else, are you? Just a tight little cunt for me to fuck until I’m so satisfied and-"

"Red." She gasped out, interrupting his sentence abruptly, her voice breaking as the safe word slipped past her lips. "Red, Matt. Please... stop. Please-"

As Y/N's shout registered inside his mind, Matt’s entire world ground to a halt. The haze of anger and lust that had clouded his mind evaporated in an instant, leaving him feeling cold and hollow. He stilled immediately, his breath catching in his throat as he processed what she had just said. The safeword; the one word they had agreed upon to stop everything if it ever became too much. And she had used it.

A wave of dread washed over him as he realized what he had done. He had pushed her too far, been too rough, and now she was lying beneath him, trembling, with tears streaming down her angel face. The guilt was immediate and overwhelming, threatening to choke him as he remained still inside her, his body frozen in place.

"Fuck." Matt whispered, his voice shaking with a mixture of fear and remorse.

He wanted to pull out immediately, to give her the space she needed, but he knew that would only cause her more pain. Instead, he took a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him, and began to gently caress her body, his hands trembling as they moved over her tense and sore muscles.

"Shh, baby, I’m here." He murmured, his voice cracking as he started to stroke her back and shoulders, feeling the tight knots of tension beneath his fingertips.

He could see how red and irritated her skin was, the marks left by his rough hands and relentless pace, and it made him feel like the worst kind of monster. He wanted to cry, the weight of what he had done crushing him, but he held it together for her. She needed him to be strong now, to take care of her, and that was the least he could do after everything.

"I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N." Matt whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he continued to gently rub her sides, his hands gliding over her warm, tender skin. He pressed soft, apologetic kisses to her shoulder, feeling the salt of her sweat mingling with his lips. "I didn’t mean to hurt you, dove. I never wanted to push you this far. Please forgive me. I’m so, so sorry."

Y/N’s body was still trembling, her breath coming in shaky gasps as she tried to come down from the intense high he had forced her into. The feel of his hands on her, so gentle now, so careful, was a stark contrast to the brutal pace he had set before, and it was both soothing and heartbreaking at the same time. She could hear the pain in his voice, the guilt that was eating away at him, and despite everything, she wanted to reassure him that she was okay, that they were okay.

Matt’s hands continued their slow, tender exploration of her body, trying to soothe the aches and pains he had caused. He traced the lines of her muscles, feeling the tension slowly start to ebb away as she relaxed under his touch, though her body still quivered with the aftershocks. His heart ached as he observed her state, and he couldn’t stop the endless stream of apologies that flowed from his lips nonstop.

"I’m gonna slip out now, okay?" He whispered, his voice trembling as he pressed another soft kiss to her temple. He waited for her response, needing her to give him the okay before he made a move.

When she finally nodded, her eyes still closed, he took a deep breath and began to withdraw from her, moving as slowly and gently as possible. Despite his care, Y/N hissed in pain as he pulled out, her body still too sensitive, too raw from the hours of overstimulation. The sound made his heart shatter all over again, and he felt a fresh wave of guilt crash over him, his stomach twisting with self-loathing.

"Shit, I know, I know... I’m sorry, dove." He choked out, his voice barely above a whisper as he finally freed himself from her body, feeling the absence of her warmth immediately. "I’m so fucking sorry."

"It's alright. Just... Can you hold me? Please?" Her voice sounded so vulnerable, so small.

"Of course! Of course, sweetheart." Matt rushed his answer, laying by her side. He reached for her, pulling her into his arms and holding her close, his heart breaking at the way she winced as she shifted against him.

Y/N nestled into his chest, her body still trembling but beginning to calm as she felt his arms around her, his strong embrace a comfort after the storm. She could hear his heartbeat, fast and erratic beneath her ear, and she knew he was just as shaken as she was. Her own tears had slowed, though her eyes still burned with the remnants of the emotions he had dragged out of her.

"It’s okay." She whispered, her voice hoarse from the intensity of their session. "It’s okay, Matt."

But it wasn’t okay, not for Matt. He didn't know how she could say that when he, himself, couldn’t forgive himself for pushing her to the point where she had to use their safe word, where he had hurt her so badly that she had to stop him. The guilt gnawed at him, and he held her even tighter, as if he could somehow make up for the damage he had done by never letting go.

"I don't deserve you." He whispered again, his voice breaking as he buried his face in her hair, his body shaking with the force of his feelings. "I never wanted to hurt you, baby. Please, please, can you forgive me, angel?"

Y/N could feel the weight of his guilt pressing down on him, the way his body trembled with the effort to hold back his own tears, and it broke her heart. She knew he hadn’t meant to hurt her, knew that he had lost control in the heat of the moment, but she also knew that she needed to help him understand that she didn’t hate him for it; that she still loved him, and that they could get through this together.

"I forgive you." She whispered, her voice soft but firm as she lifted her head to look at him, her hand coming up to cup his cheek as if he was her most precious thing. "I know you didn’t mean it, Matt. We are okay. I’m okay. I promise."

Matt looked down at her, his eyes glassy with unshed tears, and he could see the truth in her gaze. She wasn’t angry with him, wasn’t pulling away from him. She was still here, still in his arms, and that was enough to start mending the cracks that had formed in his heart.

"Thank you." He whispered, his voice full of gratitude and love as he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, his hands stroking her hair, her back, anything he could touch to reassure himself that she was still with him. "I love you so fucking much, Y/N. I’ll never let it get like that again, I promise."

"I know you won’t." Y/N whispered back, her voice full of conviction as she curled into him, seeking the comfort and safety of his embrace. "I trust you, Matt. With my life."

He held her like that for what felt like hours, the two of them wrapped up in each other as the intensity of the night slowly began to fade, leaving only the love they shared.

Matt continued to murmur soft apologies and words of love, his hands never stopping their soothing motions as he tried to make up for the pain he had caused. And gradually, as the night wore on and the exhaustion of their emotional and physical ordeal set in, Y/N’s eyes began to drift closed, her body finally relaxing completely in his arms.

Matt felt her breathing even out, her body going limp against him as sleep claimed her, and only then did he allow himself to relax, the tension he had been holding onto finally slipping away. He pressed a final, tender kiss to her forehead, his heart swelling with love for the woman in his arms, and whispered one last apology before he too succumbed to the pull of sleep, his arms wrapped protectively around her as they drifted off together.

[simplygojo]

Pussydrunk ⸺ Choso Kamo

author's note ⸺ Saw some crazy Choso art this morning and I know that the world can always use more Choso smut...so enjoy. Also yes-he does thank you for your pussy... pairing ⸺ Choso Kamo x reader teaser ⸺ '"You let out a breathy laugh and tilted your head slightly at him, “You’re thanking me? For letting you eat me out?” Choso gave you a goofy little grin, his face still buried in your legs as he responds with exaggerated sincerity. “Of course..."' content ⸺ 18+ SMUT, MDNI, pussydrunk choso, he is OBSESSED, cunnilingus, shy emo boy turned feral, oral sex (reader recv.), choso is such a nice boy he thanks u for ur pussy, he lovesss to eat you out but let a guy have hobbies!! overstimulation, reader has a vagina, reader uses female pronouns

materlist || request guidelines || commissions || fic image artist ||

Choso is perfect. Too perfect—really. 

Your sweet, soft-spoken, emo boyfriend who always knows exactly what you need. The one who texts you to remind you to drink water, gets you your favourite snacks even when you don’t ask, and holds your hand like it’s the most sacred thing in the world. 

He’s calm, attentive, and gentle—everything anyone could want in a partner.

But there’s something about him—a hidden streak that surfaces only when you’re alone.

And only when he’s between your legs.

It’s almost comical how the man who blushes when you tease him in public—who can’t take compliments without fumbling for words, turns into someone so utterly unrestrained when he’s got his face buried in your cunt. 

Your shy, sweet Choso becomes something else entirely. Feral. Hungry. Completely pussydrunk.

It’s not just a casual thing for him—it’s a fixation, a need. 

The way his pupils blow wide whenever you start to undress or the way his hands unconsciously flex when you shift your legs apart? He’s thinking about it. How soft you’d feel, how warm and wet and impossibly sweet? Yep, he’s thinking about it…and he never tries to hide it.

It starts so innocently every time, just like it had tonight, his long fingers brushing your thighs as he kisses your inner knees. 

He whispers something tender, something like, “You’re so beautiful,” as his lips trace paths closer to where you’re desperate for him.

His words always make your cheeks flush, but before you can respond, he’s dipping his head lower, brushing his nose along the seam of your panties. 

You let out a quiet gasp, hips twitching when his tongue flicks out to trace the damp fabric.

“Already wet for me,” he says, and there’s something darker in his tone now—a hint of what’s to come. 

He hooks his fingers into the waistband, sliding your underwear down your legs with deliberate slowness, and his breath catches when you’re finally bare before him.

Then the first taste hits his tongue, and that’s it—Choso’s gone.

Your thighs barely get the chance to press around his head before his hands grip your hips, pulling you closer, deeper, so he can bury his face in your pretty cunt.

The first press of his tongue against your folds makes your back arch off the bed. 

Choso groaned like he’s the one being pleasured, and the sound vibrated against you, drawing a soft cry from your lips. His hands tighten on your hips, pulling you closer, and he buries his face in you like a man starved.

He alternates between teasing your clit with quick flicks of his tongue and plunging it back inside you, each movement pulling a new, breathless whimper from your lips.

The soft squelch of his mouth working on you made your thighs twitch, but Choso didn’t stop. 

If anything, he groans louder, the sound reverberating through your core as his tongue dips back down to your entrance. He licks into you slowly, savouring the way you tighten around the soft, wet muscle.

You try to push him back once you’re trembling, overstimulated from his relentless attention, but Choso isn’t having it.

“Just once more,” he breathed against your skin, dark eyes flicking up to meet yours. They’re glassy, unfocused—completely drunk on you. “Please, baby. Can’t stop. You taste so good.”

And how could you say no to that? To the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters? He is just so damn pretty. I–

His hands roam your thighs, holding them open as he devours you, sucking your clit between his lips and humming with satisfaction every time you cry out. 

When your fingers thread into his hair, pulling hard enough to make him hiss, he only doubles down, tongue thrusting into your heat like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you.

“Fuck,” he groans, pulling back just enough to catch his breath. His lips and chin are coated in your arousal as he looks up at you with his dark hooded eyes—absolutely pussydrunk.

He looked wrecked—flushed cheeks, mussed hair, chest heaving like he’s the one who just came—and yet, he’s still leaning forward, nuzzled against your thigh, leaving lazy kisses like he can’t help himself.

“You okay?” You’d ask, voice shaky, and his lips curl into a sheepish smile as he rests his cheek on your leg.

“More than okay,” he murmured, pressing a kiss just above your knee. “You’re perfect. Thank you for letting me do this baby..”

You let out a breathy laugh and tilted your head slightly at him, “You’re thanking me? For letting you eat me out?” 

Choso gave you a goofy little grin, his face still buried in your legs as he responded with exaggerated sincerity. “Of course. You’re like... a goddess, and I’m just the humble servant here, living the dream.”

You snort at his attempt to be dramatic, your hands running through his messy, dark hair. “Well, I’m glad to know you’re really living right now.”

He peeks up at you, giving you a wink that’s way too cocky for his usual shy self. 

“Absolutely. You have no idea how much this means to me,” he says, and you can’t help but giggle at its ridiculousness.

“Choso, you’re so extra sometimes.” You roll your eyes, but it’s obvious you’re enjoying it.

His lips curl into a grin again as he presses another kiss against your inner thigh. “What can I say? I don’t hold back. I’m committed, you know?”

You gave him a raised eyebrow. “Committed, huh? To eating me out?”

Choso nods earnestly. “Yes, baby. To you. This is my true calling.” He lets out a dramatic sigh and presses his face against your leg again like he’s contemplating his life choices.

You laugh out loud at his melodramatic antics, but before you can make another joke, he dives back in, his tongue moving expertly against your clit with a series of teasing strokes. 

And that is how you and your cutie-emo-pussydrunk man spent the next few hours…

[ponderingmoonlight]

Gojo buying (y/n) souvenirs after every mission and finding out she kept EVERYTHING

Pairing: Gojo x reader (fem!pronouns)

Word Count: 1,2k

Synopsis: Since your joyful smile is so addictive, Satoru can't help but buy you a souvenir every time he goes on a mission. After a few months, he realizes by accident that you do, in fact, keep everything he gifts you...

Warnings: this is fluffness overload so be prepared, (y/n) has a really bubbly and Mitsuri-like personality, let me know what you thiiiiink and enjoy your holidays🤍

Your heart jumps up and down in joy, feet carrying you down the hallway at lightspeed. Finally he’s back. How long has it been since you’ve last seen him? Definitely too long.

“Satoru!”, you cry out.

There he stands, his arms already wide open while wearing the casual sly grin you adore so much. You can’t contain yourself any longer, your giggles filling his very own heart with nothing but joy.

Satoru doesn’t remember exactly how it all started. After some random mission, he saw a little figure of your favourite animal standing innocently in a show window. He didn’t think much of it, bought it only because it reminded him of you. But oh, you were so joyful back then.

“Are you kidding me?”, you breathed out, glossy eyes staring at the pretty ugly figure so heartfelt that Satoru couldn’t help but shamelessly stare at you.

“It reminded me of you since I know it’s your favourite animal, so yeah…You like it?”

“Like it?”

You grabbed his hands with so much passion that he almost fell backwards, jumping up and down in delight.

“I love it, Satoru! This is probably the nicest thing someone ever did for me!”

It was inevitable from there on. The urge to see your heartfelt joy after every mission became an obsession, forcing him to look into every window, into every shop on the haunt for something you might like. To be honest it made everything more bearable. The loss of his best friend, the people around him dying, all the things that keep him up at night seem to disappear when he’s looking for souvenirs to bring you.

And this.

You almost knock him over by the way you let yourself fall into his arms, hands intertwined behind his back just the way he likes it. Oh, your smell is so intoxicating, as well as your gorgeous appearance sends warm shivers down his spine. How is it even possible that you seem to get more and more breath-taking every time he sees you?

“I was so worried about you! Why didn’t you answer your calls?”, you mumble against the fabric of his uniform, instantly greeted by the singing smell of curses.

“Oh y’know, I had to do a little work from now and then. Like killing off some demons and saving a whole town from getting wiped out. So sorry I didn’t call you back”, he teases you gently.

“That didn’t stop me from getting something for you, though…”

Your eyes widen in sheer excitement, head darting towards him instantly.

“No, you didn’t”, you mutter, lips already forming the most adorable smile.

“Heck yeah I did.”

“I told you over and over that you don’t need to do that, Satoru!”

“Do you like them?”

You bite your lip in a miserable attempt to suppress the wide grin that creeps up your face, cheeks turning the shade of pink that makes Satoru lose his mind.  You are so breath-taking, so pure that it warms his heart.

“Of course I do”, you mumble into your hand.

“There you go.”

He hands you a small box, the brush of his tender touch against your hand sending electricity right through your body. With trembling fingers, you open the light blue ribbon wrapped around it, exposing a simple yet stunning necklace. You desperately try to hold back tears, so moved that you are utterly speechless.

This necklace isn’t this simple. No, engraved into it in Satoru’s iconic handwriting, it says “every thought, you”.

“You can’t be serious about this, Satoru. I really don’t deserve this.”

“You deserve this and even more, (y/n). Do you like it?”

“You ask me if I like it?”, you repeat breathless.

Your finger brushes over the engraving carefully, feeling every curve and every stroke of his elegant hand writing. This must have been expensive – way too expensive for a simple souvenir. But oh how much you love it already, you’ll keep this close to your heart day in and day out.

“I love it. Thank you so much.”

There’s no time to waste. With a swift motion you lunge yourself at him all over again, burying your face against his broad chest. You truly don’t deserve his kindness, his affection. What an outstanding man he is, so tender that it makes you tear up.

“I’d do anything to make you smile”, he mutters into your hair, hands stroking your back ever so gently.

Smile…Oh, you almost forgot!

“Would you…Would you mind coming to my dorm for a second? There’s something I want to give you as well.”

You wipe your tears away unladylike, your hand grabbing his before he’s even able to answer your question.

“Something you want to give to me? Remember when I told you you don’t have to buy me anything?”

“Remember when I told you the same?”, you remark with a slight grin, literally dragging him into your room.

In fact, you stumbled upon this cute figure of a white cat the other day. There was no way you’d leave without buying it, not when it reminded you so much of him.

You swing your drawer open without thinking twice, grabbing the cute little cat with your face glowing in proud.

“Okay, now that’s adorable”, Satoru laughs gently.

Somehow, his eyes get stuck on your drawer though. It looks messy, almost flooding over with all the pieced cramped into it. But no, that isn’t some random rubbish. That figure that stands in the middle of it, it looks so familiar. As well as all those letters, the sweets, the postcards…

It dawns to him, heart skipping a beat. These are all the souvenirs he brought you over the last few years.

“Don’t tell me you kept everything I gave you.”

Oh, please tell him you did.

“Huh?”

Your innocent eyes dart towards the drawer behind you, your cheeks instantly heating up all over again.

“Oh…of course I kept them! Why would I ever throw them away?”

“You even kept the packages of the sweets from last months…”

His heart almost overspills with love. You have to be an angel, too pure and kind for this world. Just one look into your tender eyes is enough to sweep him off his feet, the little cat he holds in his hand sending him over the edge.

“I just love to get reminded of you I guess.”

“And I love you, (y/n). You have to be the most precious human being I’ve ever met.”

The way your eyes widen and your mouth shoots open is priceless. You look so utterly surprised that he can’t help but chuckle while wrapping his strong arms around you all over again.

“Y-you, loving me?”, you stutter.

“Well, I was hoping you’d love me too-“

“I do”, you interrupt him immediately.

“I love you more than any souvenir!”, you babble out.

“That’s what a man needs to hear”, he laughs softly.

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @chilichopsticks

[beloveds-embrace]

(just a little more of designationless reader)

The mission had gone terribly wrong.

You didn’t know how, didn’t know why, but something had shifted in the air the moment you’d stepped into the warehouse. It had felt wrong- the silence, the utter stillness. It should’ve been the kind of thing you’d recognize, the subtle tension before the storm, but you hadn’t seen it coming and you paid the price.

Just like that, you were caught. Trapped in the thick of it, surrounded by enemies who you couldn’t even remember now, fighting your way through them like a man woman.

It wasn’t long before the pack had gotten to you, of course. You hadn’t been hurt too badly- nothing they couldn’t fix, nothing that would be permanent- but it still left you shaken. The cut on your arm wasn’t deep, but it was enough to send a rush of panic through your system, a crack in the calm veneer you usually kept. It was far too close to major arteries, far too close to turning into a disaster.

As soon as the mission had wrapped up, and you were with them safe, albeit hurt? The tension had melted from the air. Yet the worry and concern from them lingered; thick, and suffocating. You could feel it in the weight of their gazes, the way they moved around you, always in close proximity. They needed to make sure you were safe. Make sure you were whole. Still theirs, every piece of you.

Price had led the way as always, but now, it was different. There was something in the way he looked at you, his usual warmth shadowed by a sharper edge. He was on edge, and you felt the pulse of it much like your wound.

You wondered, not for the first time, if you were normal what the air would smell like- Kyle had told you that John’s scent is close to cedarwood and something so uniquely John, but smelling candles and perfumes would never compare to the real thing and you knew that as well.

You weren’t blind to it. You weren’t unaware of the way the four of them watched you, how every step you took was traced, how every breath was met with a steady, almost imperceptible hum of reassurance.

You had a feeling they were worried. That they were afraid something might happen to you even though you were all back at the base.

And then came Price’s silent decision.

That night, after the pack had tucked you into the nest, making sure every inch of the space was filled with their warmth, John took a quiet breath and approached.

His eyes- dark, like the stormy seas- were focused entirely on you. His presence alone felt heavy, and more than ever, you ached to know what feeling it all would be like.

“You’re mine.” He murmured softly, and there was no doubt in his voice.

You barely had time to process the words before he was sitting beside you, his arm coming around you, pulling you close into him as if he could mould you between the tender space underneath his ribs. It was an action as gentle as it was possessive, and the contrast of it made your heart flutter, shivering.

His body, solid and firm, pressed against yours, and you could hear and feel the faintest growl rumble from deep within his chest. It was a warning. It was a promise. A claim.

It made you feel heavy- molten honey, sticky toffee.

“Let me mark you,” he whispered, the words low and meant for your ears, laced with something that made your pulse quicken. “Let me claim you, love. I won’t let anything happen to you again.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, body locking in place, another shiver running down your spine as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear.

His hand moved gently over your wrist, where you’d been cut earlier. He pressed a soft kiss to it, lips warm and soothing against the tender skin. You could cry, if you had the energy for it; no one has every treated your body, defective as it is, with such tenderness. No one but them.

“Nothing, and no one, will hurt you,” he murmured again, vibrating through you like a deep purr. “You belong to me, to us.”

A soft sigh escaped your lips, a whimper of relief and affection that seemed to relax the very air around you.

John wasn’t waiting for you to respond. His lips trailed down to your throat, the roughness of his stubble grazing your skin as he kissed you there- lingering. Marking. Claiming. He could feel your pulse under his mouth, steady and soft, and he took his time, savoring each moment as he flooded your senses.

His hands moved to your shoulders, pressing you closer, his warmth enveloping you. He could feel your soft breaths, steady now, though your heart still beat a little faster. He was demanding, there was no mistaking it, but there was something else too- something tender, something just for you.

He wanted to remind you. He wanted to remind you that you were safe with him. That you were his. Theirs. One and the same. A part of them, of him.

And as he pulled back, his hands gently cupping your face, he hummed. “I’ll protect you. Always.”

There was a finality to the words, a quiet promise. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a long moment, everything else in the world faded. There was only him, only you, and the weight of everything he was offering- his protection, his love, his pack.

The others- Soap, Gaz, Ghost- they were there too, watching from the edges of the nest, but they were content. They understood. They’d always understood. John had been the first to claim you, but they were already a part of you, already tangled in your heart and soul.

But for now, it was John’s turn. His moment to show you how much you meant to him.

He leaned in again, his lips finding your forehead in a soft, lingering kiss, a final mark before he wrapped you fully in his embrace. The warmth of him, the warmth of the pack, filled the space, and you sank deeper into the cozyness of it, feeling a sense of peace that was unlike anything you’d ever known.

For the first time in your life, you felt complete. You felt wanted. You felt safe.

And as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, the steady, soothing rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest was all you needed.

[imsilay]

MANIA

obsessive love; very possessive and often jealous.

mdni NSFW! +18 cw: possessiveness, size k!nk, fem!reader, obsessive König, dominant König.

summary: König doesn’t wants you to leave him, even for a second. he finds excuses and makes it your problem so he could fuck you until you’re too sore to leave again.

i will post part 2 <3 (english isn’t my first language sorry for the mistakes) edit: posted! here

art cr: @kinky-thirsty-reader

He doesn’t like when you try to leave him…

After a long night, you were exhausted, your body sore from head to toe. You tried to sit up and leave the bed, but suddenly König's arm snaked around your waist and held you down. "Where do you think you're going, Prinzessin?" he whispered. "I need to shower." you mumbled as you put your hands on his forearms and tried to push him away, but it was a pathetic attempt. You were so powerless compared to him.

“So klein~” he cooed.

He chuckled at your struggles. "I don't think so, Schatz. You're staying here, in my bed, where you belong…" he purred, kissing the back of your neck and pulling you even closer, pressing your back against his chest. "König, stop the nonsense. Let go of me, i really need to shower." you protested— you wish you didn’t. His arms tightened around your midsection, reminding you that he could snap your spine effortlessly. "Are you talking back, Prinzessin? Did you forget you’re mine?" he whispered, his tone now edged with discontent. His grip was far from loving anymore. “Do i need to remind you?” he hissed, he would fuck you dumb until you understand that you’re his. His to use for his own satisfaction, his to kiss whenever he decided to do, his to touch wherever he wants. You were simply his.

When you realized you were in trouble, chills ran down your spine. You quickly apologized. "No, I was just... I don't like being sweaty. I'm sorry." Your apology made him loosen his grip a little. He placed a tender kiss on your neck. He turned you around as if you weighed nothing and pressed you against his chest.

“Hmm... let's see," his voice teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He sat up, leaning his back against the headboard and had you straddle him. He lowered his hands from your waist to your thighs and gently caressed them. You let out a groan of relief and wrapped your arms around his neck, savoring the sensation of your lover's massage on your sore muscles. However, your relief was short-lived because he wasn't finished with you yet. "You tried to escape my bed. So you need to be punished, Hase." He squeezed your thighs until the pain in your sore muscles became almost unbearable.

You cried and whined but he shushed you softly, soothing you. “We’re not done, Liebling.” It was clear that his tone had changed again. The anger and firmness had given way to something more gentle, almost loving.

You slurred something for forgiveness and apologize nonstop. “Don't be sorry, Hase. I didn't like seeing you try to escape from me." he said with a hint of a pout. "But I think i can make a exception for you this time. What about you let me…" his rough hands slowly caressed your inner thighs making you shiver and gasp in anticipation. “use you as i please, then maybe i could let you rest.” he murmured as his hand found its way to your already wet panties. Your breath hitched and you squirmed on his lap as he teased your cunt through your panties until you’re soaked for him.

“You’re so easy to seduce, Schatz.” he chuckled lightly but his voice stained with pure lust. He lifted your chin up with his free hand to take a look at your lovely face. Your eyes red, your skin flush from all the crying and stimulation. It was all for him… right?

“Immer so empfindlich, wenn ich so mit dir spiele.” (Always so sensitive when I play with you like this.) he mumbled in German like he always did. You never understand what he said -mind foggy with lust and too focused to chase that sweet release.

He grinned with a proud expression and mumbled to himself. “Braves Mädchen.” he whispered before lifting his balaclava up just enough to capture your lips in a long passionate kiss.

a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked it <3

a/n: also i post everyday -sometimes 2 posts in a day- so if you follow me i won’t disappoint ;)

[hoshifighting]

Hi! How are you? This is my first request ever on this app... First of all, i have to say that you're my absolute favorite writer here! Kudos to you, really. Second of all, can i request for a dom hao where he says: "beg me.. beg me cutely" i can't stop thinking about when he said that on a fancall one day... well.. that's it. Thanks in advanced.

dom!minghao asking you to beg him cutely

a/n: your first ask? welcome anon!! thank you for all the love <333 and UGH minghao its such a tease!!! i rushed to see this fancall and left speechless

WARNINGS: smut, pillow/hand riding, begging, penetrative sex, dirty talk, slight humilliation kink

your breath is uneven, shaky gasps leaving your lips as you grind against minghao’s palm, which is pressed firm between you and the pillow. the friction is maddening—his fingers raise just slightly sometimes, just to brush your swollen clit. but it’s not enough. not nearly enough. your thighs are trembling, muscles aching from the effort of riding his hand for what feels like an eternity.

“hao,” you whimper, your voice breaking on his name.

he tilts his head, looking at you with that maddeningly calm expression, like this isn’t driving you out of your mind. “what is it, baby?”

“please,” you beg, trying to lean into him, your hands reaching for his shoulders, his neck—anything to ground yourself.

but minghao dodges your touch, effortlessly leaning back and away from your grasp, his hand never faltering in its rhythm. “ah, ah,” he chides softly, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “no shortcuts. keep going.”

you groan in frustration, your hips stuttering as you try to push harder against his palm, desperate for relief. “please, hao, i—i can’t—”

“you can,” he interrupts, his tone firm but not unkind. “you’re doing so well. don’t stop now.”

you bite your lip, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes from the sheer intensity of it all. the pillow beneath you is damp, your arousal soaking through the fabric, and your body feels like it’s on the verge of breaking apart. “hao, please, i need—i need your cock. please.”

he raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your plea. “that’s not how you ask, is it?”

you shake your head, a frustrated sob slipping from your lips. “hao, i can’t—my legs—please, please just—”

“no,” he says simply, his voice steady and commanding. “if you want it, you know what to do.”

you whimper, your movements growing erratic as you try to find the right angle, the right pressure, anything to make you finally cum. your hands clench into fists, your nails digging into the pillow beneath you.

“beg me,” minghao says,. his free hand reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face with almost agonizing tenderness. “but beg me cutely, and maybe i’ll think about it.”

your cheeks flush, the humiliation of his demand only heightening the tension coiling in your core. you look up at him, your eyes wide and pleading, your lips trembling as you force the words out.

“please, hao,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “please, i need you. i need you so bad. i’ll be good, i promise—just please.”

he hums thoughtfully, his fingers pressing just a little harder against your clit, drawing a sharp cry from your lips. “hmm. better. but i know you can do cuter than that.”

your pride wars with your desperation, but in the end, it’s no contest. “please, hao,” you whimper, your voice high and breathy, your body trembling from the effort. “please, i’ll be so good for you. i’ll do anything you want. just—just give it to me. please.”

his smirk deepens, satisfaction flickering in his dark eyes. “good girl,” he murmurs, his hand finally leaving the pillow to guide you closer. “see? i knew you had it in you.”

minghao’s eyes darken as he lines himself up, the head of his cock brushing against your soaked folds, teasing and infuriatingly slow. “so desperate for me. i should’ve made you beg longer.”

you don’t even have it in you to respond. your body is trembling, your thighs twitching as you try to push yourself back onto him, but his hands grip your hips firmly, keeping you still.

“patience,” he says, but the smirk on his lips tells you he’s enjoying every second of your torment.

finally, finally, he pushes in, stretching you so perfectly that your back arches off the pillow beneath you. you let out a loud, husky moan, your hands scrambling to grip onto something—his arms, the sheets, anything to keep yourself grounded as he sinks deeper. “fuck, fuck, fuck” you gasp through gritted teeth, your chest heaving. the burn is intense, your body adjusting to the intrusion, but it’s exactly what you’ve been craving.

minghao doesn’t give you much time to recover. he sets a pace that’s just on the edge of too much, his hips snapping against yours and it has your eyes rolling back almost instantly. “you’re such a mess,” he mutters, one hand moving to grip your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. “so needy. you couldn’t even wait, could you? had to have me right now.”

his words send a shiver down your spine, and you moan, your voice breaking as your hips start to move on their own, meeting his thrusts halfway. your movements are frantic, desperate, like you’re in heat and he’s the only thing that can cool the fire burning inside you. “hao,” you whimper, your hands clawing at his back, leaving red trails down his skin. “please, don’t stop—don’t stop, don’t—”

“wasn’t planning to,” he cuts you off, his voice strained. the effort it takes to keep his composure is written all over his face, beads of sweat forming at his temples, his brows furrowed in concentration.

you feel like you’re losing control, your hips bucking wildly against his as your lungs burn, each breath a struggle to catch. every thrust pushes you closer to the edge, the sound of skin against skin mixing with the wet, obscene noises of him filling you.

“so greedy. can’t get enough, hmm?”

you nod frantically, unable to form a coherent response as your nails dig into his arms, holding onto him like a lifeline.

he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. “you feel so good, baby,” he whispers, his voice trembling with restraint. “so tight, so perfect. you’re gonna cum for me?”

you moan in response, your walls clenching around him as your body spirals closer and closer to release. your head falls back, your mouth open in a silent scream as you lose yourself completely, your hips moving without rhythm, chasing that high. minghao’s grip tightens on your hips, holding you steady as he thrusts even deeper, hitting that perfect spot that has you seeing fireworks exploding behind your eyelids. he groans, his pace faltering as he chases his own orgasm. “cum for me, baby. let me feel you.”

your vision blurs, your ears ringing as waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you breathless and boneless beneath him. minghao follows soon after, a low groan escaping his lips as he thrusts one last time, his release spilling inside you.

[tojipie]

what would it be like if toji had a needy cry baby gf 😣😣😣

this is such a cute ask omg :(( had so much fun writing this! enjoy

content: anxiety, hurt/comfort, fluff

the telltale sound of a buzzing phone wakes you from your catnap. you shift on the couch, lifting your head from toji’s lap to gather yourself.

“what is it?” he mumbles, pulling your blanket back over your shoulders to keep you warm. the hum of the TV almost lulls you back asleep, eyes fluttering shut.

“mm y’r phone is ringing.” you whisper groggily, rubbing your eye with the back of your hand.

“you wanna go get it for me?” toji asks, pressing a kiss to your hairline as you stand up from the couch, blanket still wrapped tight around your shoulders.

“it’s probably on the bathroom counter.” he notes, kissing you again as a thank you. he was always tender with you when you were sleepy. your heart soars as you make your way upstairs and into your shared room.

you can practically feel the ringing as you cross the threshold of the bedroom door, padding past the bed and into the connected bathroom with a hum.

he must’ve forgotten it here when the two of you had showered earlier you reason, shading your eyes from the lights the two of you left on.

you head towards the counter, grabbing the device and immediately dropping it onto the solid tile.

WHACK

… shit

“shitshitshit.” you curse, toji’s ringtone coming to a stop as soon as the phone had hit the floor.

your heart sinks to your feet all the way through the marbled tile and into the dirt as you approach the device, praying the sound it’d made on impact wasn’t as serious as you remembered.

“no.. nonono oh my god.” you whisper, immediately crouching down to pick his phone up off the floor, eyes filling with tears as you try to gauge the damage.

just as you feared, a massive crack running down one corner to another. the bottom left corner of the screen was completely blacked out save for a few blinking pixels around the edge, it’s touch screen barely responsive as your thumb runs along the electronic gash

hot tears run down your face as you realize the seriousness of what you’d done. toji needed this phone for work, practically had it on him at all times except for when he was at home.

he’d be mad at you, right? this was serious damage, something neither of you could brush off. his kindness only went so far you gathered.

and since when was bathroom tile that destructive? god, you were going to throw up.

“you ok?” your boyfriend yells from downstairs, turning your blood cold.

“yup!” you respond, voice shaking a little more than you intended. your wrap your blanket tighter around your quivering body, quickly wiping your tears with the soft fabric.

“who was calling?”

you curse again, tapping the shattered screen to try and look at the caller ID. you can barely make out shiu’s name with all the damage.

“it’s shiu.” you yell back, trying to soothe the redness around your eyes and nose in the mirror.

the stairs creak as you wobble downstairs, cheeks still wet with fresh tears. what were you even going to tell him? that you dropped his phone once and now it was practically unusable?

“hey thank you sweet gi—”

Toji’s face falls at the sight of you, immediately standing up to wrap you in his arms. your quiet sniffles turn into full blown sobbing as you clutch the phone to your chest, trying your best to hide it from him.

“what’s wrong pretty?” your boyfriend whispers, rubbing your back with a huge hand. the older man presses soft kisses to your cheeks and forehead, leading you over to the couch and pulling you into his warm lap.

“i dropped your phone.” you whimper, shaky hands fiddling with the device as you prepare to disappoint the love of your life.

“yeah?” toji mumbles understandingly. “let’s see it baby, don’t worry.” he reassures you, taking his phone from your lap and turning it over.

“it’s just it was still wet cause you were answering a text in the shower and it slipped from my hand and—”

you gauge his face for an inevitable scowl, maybe a scoff. whatever it was, you deserved it.

instead, toji smiles.

“oh my god.” you whimper. was he so mad that he had no choice to smile? was there simply not any other expression to convey how upset he was?

toji surprises you again as he throws the phone to the side, letting it bounce across the couch cushions.

“that’s it?” he laughs, rubbing up and down your sides.

“you sniffle again, wiping your eyes.

“whadduya mean that’s it… i broke it.” you practically sob, turning to get up from his lap.

warm hands circle around your arms, leading your smaller body back to his chest. the older man wipes your cheeks with both thumbs, pressing an impossibly soft kiss to your hairline.

“nothing I can’t get fixed.” he tells you, smoothing your hair away from your face.

“but it’ll be expensive..”

“not for me.” he laughs

“you should be me at me.” you mumble softly, guilt still knawing away at you.

“why would I be mad at you for making a little mistake?” toji’s voice is soft, reassuring. his chest is warm and he smells like a campfire, practically lulling you to sleep with how tenderly he holds you.

“I’ve literally had a bullet go right through my screen baby.” he laughs. “I’ve dropped my phone out of moving cars, I’ve had it run over. you think i don’t replace this thing every month?”

you gasp, head popping up from his shoulder. “a bullet?”

“you can thank shiu for that.” he mumbles, kissing you again.

“what I mean is it’s nothing i can’t fix.” he tells you, reclining onto the couch and pulling you with him. “how could I ever be mad you?” he whispers into your cheek.

you nod, the last of your tears drying up as your body relaxes on top of his. you hated how bad your anxiety got at times, clouding your judgement and effectively convincing you that the world hated you.

“tell you what.” he starts.

“tomorrow how about me and you go pick up a replacement for me, and then get you a new phone too?” he asks tenderly, tracing shapes into your hair with his finger.

“you wanted the new one right? in pink?”

you nod with a giggle, eyes fluttering shut as the sound of your boyfriend’s heartbeat syncs with yours.

“yeah.” you tell him shyly, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “in pink please.”

[dumbandfunn]

how cowboy!rafe and spoiled!reader met

it was a usual friday night in the local bar, the few regular rowdy ranchers and the occasional couple passing through just to grab a drink for their journey. it was nothing new. not until the door swung open more aggressively than usual and low and behold you stood in your pretty white sundress, mascara stained under eyes and demanding somebody to tell you “where the hell you were.” rafe had been on high alert the minute he lay his eyes on you, telling his usual drinking crowd to shut up while he took a sip of the whiskey he had been clinging to the entire night. you looked so helpless, fragile, rambling to the bar tender who seemed to not care about anything but how low the cut on your dress was. his eyes were trailing from where you had perched yourself back to the pervy wandering heads from the countless men who had all fallen silent at the chaos you had created from nothing. “are you even listening to me,” you pout, lip still wobbling whilst you slammed a hand down against the wooden counter. “i need somebody to help me, im lost and—” you sniffle.

an older man sitting across from you had piped up with an “ain’t nobody gon’ help you in these parts little lady, not with that attitude,” and that only made you cry harder. “but i’m lost,” you huff out, your tears quick to turn to the sweetest angry pout rafe had probably ever seen as you turn to the few people who were only watching in amusement, oh how they hated pretentious city girls. rafe’s eyebrows were raised, maybe it was then, as you started to bicker with a rancher twice your size that he needed to know more about you. and why the hell a girl like you was in a place like this in the first place. you left with a pretty loud bratty scream after nobody showed any interest in helping you, the distant laughs of the scene you’d caused echoing behind you as you sniffled back your tears and kicked at the car that had put you in the unfortunate situation in the first place. it wasn’t like rafe to follow, especially after someone like you, not that he came across anyone like that much in the first place. a clearly spoiled, city princess. maybe it was just the little white dress you were wearing, maybe he was just as pervy as the rest. he just couldn’t leave a little helpless thing like you to your own devices in a place he knew too well. or maybe he just needed you the second his pants got a little tighter when you were leaning across the bar a few minutes prior.

but less than two seconds after your tantrum he was hot on your heels, waving off the whistles that followed when the doors swung behind him. “so y’need help?”

a knight in shining armour, just a minute too late, it was tantrum city now after not getting your way.

“not from any of you anymore,” you spat out, folding your arms over your chest, narrowing your eyes at the young man who took a small step closer, taking his hat off and raising both hands up in defense, “well, you didn’t choose the best place to come cryin’ for help, alright, s’all i’ll say doll.” “—so y’gonna tell me what happened or you just gon’ sit here cryin’ all night,” he mutters out. you frown up at him, clearly in a conflict about standing your ground or getting out of the hell your car had broken down in. maybe your stubbornness had gotten the better of you, how you turned your nose up at him and quickly looked away, only for a hand to land firmly on your jaw a minute later, squishing your cheeks and staring you down with those stern blue eyes. “i told you this not the place to come cryin’ for help, s’tell me whats wrong before i go back inside and leave you here all on your own, hm? you want that?”

you shook your head almost immediately, eyes widened and lips parted. nobody had spoken to you like that in your entire life. and the way your eyebrows creased and your lip started to vibrate again, rafe knew he had you right where he wanted you. “my car broke down, can you fix it” you whisper.

“they don’t teach you manners in the city?”

you managed to squeak out a please, just as his free hand reached to brush a few stray hairs out of your face, licking his thumb and swiping the clumps of mascara from under your eyes. “now that wasn’t so hard was it doll?” and you shook your head again, nervous and chewing down on your bottom lip. he really did have you right then and there, someone who could handle your tantrums and someone who could knock the attitude from your lungs with something as simple as an eyebrow raise.

everyone was shocked to see you curled under rafe’s arm the following friday in his usual corner of the same bar, feet swinging and dazed. nobody would dare say a bad word about you again.

[rootedinrevisions]

Rooster Comes Home to His Girls

SUMMARY: There are not a ton of plot points, just Husband and Dad Bradley coming home to his girls.

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

WARNINGS: None (Pure fluff on this one)

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

A/N: I need something fluffy in my life and saw this picture on Pinterest and the idea just kind of flowed from there. Between everything going on in the country today and the stuff that's been going on in my personal life the past six months or so, I needed some pure, sickeningly sweet fluff. So here it is! Hope you enjoy!

The quiet hum of the baby monitor filled the kitchen as you stood at the sink, rinsing out a bottle. The rhythmic motion had become almost meditative over the past few weeks, a small way to keep yourself grounded while you waited for Bradley to come home. It had been a long deployment, and the days had felt heavier as they passed, each one marked by the absence of his presence, his laugh, his steady, calming voice. Now, he was finally on his way back, and your heart beat faster with every small sound outside, every imagined footstep near the door.

Suddenly, the soft creak of the front door reached your ears, and you froze, breath catching in your throat. You turned just in time to see him step into the house, his duffel bag dropping to the floor as his eyes found yours. For a moment, the world seemed to stop. He looked a little worn, a little tired, but his eyes shone with the same warmth, the same love, that had carried you through his absence. And just like that, the weight you’d been carrying slipped away.

You barely noticed dropping the kitchen towel as you moved toward him, your feet quickening until you were close enough to feel the warmth of him, smell the familiar, comforting scent of his cologne, and the hint of jet fuel that clung to his clothes.

Bradley pulled you into his arms with a gentle strength, as though he was afraid you might break, his hands settling firmly against your back as he held you close.

“I missed you so much,” he murmured, voice rough with emotion as he buried his face in your hair.

His embrace felt like home, solid and sure, grounding you after weeks of doing everything alone. You leaned into him, closing your eyes as his hand gently cradled the back of your head, holding you close, as if he never wanted to let go.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, feeling tears well up as you clutched him tighter, the reality of having him here again making your heart ache in the best way.

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, letting your eyes drink in every detail of his face—the familiar curve of his jaw, the warmth in his gaze, the slight shadow of exhaustion under his eyes.

And then, without a word, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was soft, tender, and filled with all the words he hadn’t been able to say. You kissed him back, pouring all your relief, your longing, and your love into that moment. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away a stray tear as he deepened the kiss, as if he needed to reassure himself that you were really here, that he was really home.

But then, the soft crackle of the baby monitor brought you both back, followed by a familiar whimper, a little cry that quickly turned into a wail. You sighed, feeling the exhaustion return as your mind shifted back to reality. You started to pull away, ready to go to her, but Bradley stopped you, his hand gently catching yours.

“Hey,” he murmured, giving you a soft smile as he looked toward the monitor, where your daughter’s cries continued. “I’ve got it. Let me take care of her.”

You hesitated, feeling the instinct to take over, to keep doing what you’d been doing alone for so long. “Are you sure? I don’t mind—”

But Bradley shook his head, his expression gentle but firm. “You’ve been doing this on your own for weeks. Let me be the dad for a while,” he said softly, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made your heart swell. “You look tired, sweetheart.”

You let out a breath, feeling the truth of those words hit you. “It’s been… a lot, but it’s okay. It’s what I signed up for.”

He gave a small shake of his head, his expression softening into something even more tender. “No, it’s not okay for you to do this alone. Go, relax. Take a bath, take the whole night off. I’ve got her.”

You felt the last bit of tension in your shoulders finally start to ease, the exhaustion you’d been holding back settling over you. You nodded, giving him a grateful smile as you whispered, “Thank you, Bradley.”

He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before he let go, watching you with that same soft smile as you stepped back, finally allowing yourself to let him take over.

You paused at the doorway, glancing back as he turned and headed down the hall toward the nursery, his broad shoulders silhouetted in the soft glow of the nightlight spilling from your daughter’s room.

You took a deep breath, letting yourself sink into the silence, the weight lifting as you headed to the bathroom. It was strange, letting go of the constant watchfulness, but you trusted him completely. He was here now, and that was all that mattered.

In the bathroom, you ran a warm bath, sinking into the soothing water as the tension slowly faded away. For the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to truly relax, closing your eyes and letting the warmth envelop you. You didn’t have to be on alert, didn’t have to listen for every small sound—Bradley was here, and he had everything under control.

After a while, you slipped into your pajamas, feeling more refreshed than you had in ages. You padded quietly down the hall, and as you passed the nursery you heard your daughter’s laughter  filling the air.

Quietly, you made your way to the doorway and peeked inside, stopping when you saw Bradley kneeling beside her crib. He had a teddy bear in his hand, making playful growling noises as he wiggled it toward her, his eyes bright with joy. Each time the bear touched her belly, she erupted into giggles, her little hands reaching out to grab it.

You leaned against the doorframe, smiling as you watched them. Bradley’s face softened as he looked at her, all the strength and resolve he usually wore dissolving into pure love. He was so gentle with her, the way he brushed a strand of hair from her face, the way he whispered silly little things to make her laugh as if he was trying to make up for every minute he’d missed while he was away.

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, but you didn’t wipe it away. Moments like this remind you why you fell in love with him in the first place.

Even after everything, the deployments, the late nights, the lonely stretches—you knew he was worth it.

You then watched as he picked her up, bringing her into his arms in a cradling position. He began to sway gently as he whispered to her, his voice a low, soothing murmur. She reached out and curled her little fingers around his thumb, her big, sleepy eyes fixed on him as though she was entranced.

You leaned against the doorway, watching the two of them, your heart full as you took in the sight of your husband cradling his little girl, his own eyes filled with pure love.

“Daddy’s home. I’m so sorry I was gone for so long, but I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.” He whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Your daughter blinked up at him, her little hand reaching up to touch his face, her tiny fingers brushing against his cheek. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, a tear slipping down his cheek as he held her close.

You felt your own eyes misting as you watched him with her, the quiet love and devotion in his expression a balm to your soul. He looked over, noticing you in the doorway, and gave you a small, tender smile.

“Caught me,” he said softly, a touch of playful warmth in his voice.

You walked over, wrapping your arms around him as he shifted slightly, making room for you to lean in, resting your head against his shoulder as you looked down at your daughter. “I love seeing this side of you,” you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder.

“She’s grown so much,” he murmured, looking over at you with a mixture of pride and sorrow. “I feel like I missed so much.”

You shook your head, stepping closer, resting a hand on his arm. “She’s been waiting for you, Bradley. We both have.”

“I’m here now.” He reached up, his hand covering yours, a silent promise in his touch. The three of you stood there in the soft glow of the nursery, wrapped in a moment of love, peace, and quiet joy—a moment you knew you’d hold close to your heart, long after he had to leave again.

For now, though, he was here, and everything was just as it should be.

[itneverendshere]

the thought of rafe taking care of his newborn. maybe mama went to shower and she comes out and she hears the baby just hard crying and she checks on them, and rafes covered in spit up and he’s trying to sponge bath her in the kitchen sink softly talking to her

mini version of myself livin' in me - r.c

pairing: pogue!reader x rafe (bartender!reader universe) warnings: none.

the warm spray of water and the scent of lavender swarmed around you like a hug as you stood under the pressure shower.

it had been one of those long days—your baby girl's cries louder than usual, her needs more demanding, and your sleep-deprived body feeling drained.

but the thought of rafe taking care of her while you finally took a moment for yourself brought a giddy smile to your face.

once you were done, you turned off the water, wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel, and stepped out, only to still be welcomed by the sound of your daughter’s cries across the house, louder and more urgent.

your heart thudded as you reached the source, feet still damp against the wooden floor.

the sight in the kitchen made you stop.

rafe stood by the sink, his broad back slightly hunched as he leaned over your baby girl.

his shirt was splattered with spit-up, damp spots spreading across his chest and sleeves, a wet dishtowel in hand, and completely focused on autumn.

your baby was in the sink, squirming and red-faced, he cradled her with one arm while using the other to gently sponge her down with a damp cloth.

his hair, usually perfectly messy, stuck to his forehead in damp strands, and there was a smear of baby lotion on his cheek.

autumn's tiny fists waved in the air, her cries coming in shuddering gasps, his thumb tracing delicate circles on her belly, his expression infinitely tender.

“shh, i know. almost done. i promise,” he planted a soft kiss on her forehead before continuing to gently wash her.

she let out another hiccuped wail and his voice continued as a low, soothing hum.

“hey, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he cooed, running the cloth over her chubby arms. “daddy’s here.”

her cries came in hiccups now, and you watched, heart swelling twice in size, as rafe chuckled to himself despite the chaos around him.

“you’re tough, just like your mama."

you leaned against the doorway, a warm smile spreading across your face. there he was, the man you fell in love with, completely wrapped up in his role as a father, covered in spit-up and unfazed.

he must have sensed your presence, because he turned, his blue eyes lighting up with relief when they met yours.

“hey,” he said, a little sheepishly. “didn’t hear you come in.”

“looks like you two had fun,” you mused, moving closer.

your gaze fell on the little face that looked back at you, blue eyes wide and tear-streaked. the hiccupped sobs had quieted, and her tiny fingers now curled and uncurled, reaching for something familiar.

“yeah,” rafe said with a lopsided smile, running a hand through his hair, leaving it even messier. “but we’re good, right, little lady?” he leaned down and rubbed his nose lightly against hers, eliciting a soft, surprised coo from autumn.

you rested your hand on his damp arm and he shifted slightly so you could see her better.

you stroked her chubby cheek, your fingers tracing the perfect features that were a blend of both of you.

“she’s calmer now,” you said, the tension in your body unwinding as you looked at your husband.

“only because you’re here,” he replied, turning his head to plant a quick, affectionate kiss on your temple. the way his smile crinkled the corners of his eyes made you fall in love all over again.

“you’re soaked,” you laughed, brushing your thumb over the damp splotch on his shoulder.

“hazards of the job,” he said, smirking. “but she’s worth it.”

suddenly, the tiniest sound broke—a quick, unmistakable baby fart.

there was a second of silence as rafe’s eyes widened comically, and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up.

“did she just…” you started, your voice already filled with laughter.

rafe’s expression changed from disbelief to a look of exaggerated dread.

he shot you a pleading look, brows raised. “i don’t even wanna check. please, for the love of all that’s holy, tell me she didn’t shart on my hand again.”

you covered your mouth, failing to stop a giggle from spilling out, and took a step forward to peer at your daughter, who now seemed quite content, eyes wide and bright.

“oh, she definitely did,” you nodded.

he groaned, head tilting back as if appealing to the heavens.

“why me?” he asked, half-joking, half-resigned, though the corners of his mouth twitched with amusement.

“because you’re her dad,” you teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “and she already knows you’re wrapped around her little finger.”

rafe rolled his eyes, looking down at autumn, who gave a soft, innocent coo. “yeah, yeah. you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“she’s definitely yours,” you added, brushing your hand over her growing hair. “she farts just like you.”

his jaw dropped, eyes wide.

“excuse me?” he sputtered, hand on his chest as if you’d just hit him with the worst insult imaginable. “are you serious right now?”

you laughed, the sound coming out so naturally that even your baby seemed to sense the lightheartedness, letting out a warbling giggle of her own.

“i mean, the resemblance is uncanny,” you added, doubling down.

he leaned in closer. “for the record, my farts are silent,” he declared, trying to keep a straight face.

“...if you say so,” you drew out the words with mock skepticism.

rafe’s mouth fell open in playful indignation.

“hey! i barely fart in front of you!” he said, defensiveness in his voice as he pointed at you.

“sure, sweetheart,” you replied, giving him a patronizing pat on the arm. your grin widened when you saw his eyes narrow in faux irritation.

“no, really!” he protested, shaking his head and trying not to smile. “you make me sound like i’m just walking around the house, letting loose left and right.”

you leaned in, your voice low, “rafe, there was that one time on movie night—”

“oh, come on! that was once!” he said, throwing his hands up in exaggerated defeat.

his sudden movement made your daughter wiggle in his arms, and she let out a content gurgle as if agreeing with you.

“see? even she remembers,” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

“great. now i’m outnumbered in my own house,” he muttered, the corners of his mouth twitching up.

you pressed another kiss to his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin.

“don’t worry, daddy. we still love you, gas and all.”

rafe was already halfway through a shit-eating grin when you rolled your eyes so deep into the back of your skull.

“grow up,” you scoffed, arching an eyebrow. “you don’t have to smirk every time i call you ‘daddy.’”

rafe chuckled, entirely unapologetic, “what? it’s not my fault you say it in that voice!”

“i hope she shits on you again.”

he let out a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest in feigned betrayal. "wow. cursing me with more spit-up and sharts? you’re cruel.”

autumn let out a loud noise, drawing your attention back to her. she gazed up at rafe with wide, adoring eyes, her tiny fingers wrapping around his thumb.

his voice softened as he looked down at her, completely captivated.

“guess i wouldn’t mind a few more spit-ups,” he confessed, a look of pure love in his eyes.

you smiled as you watched them. “lucky for you, i don’t think she’s done with those anytime soon.”

i cannot confirm or deny if this was also inspired by mads fart video on ig