#but when they show these little moments where they smile or giggle in between the kissing? i will eat that shit up EVERYTIME

[ladey]

Can we pretty please have one of au powder where shes in love with us instead of ekko? 🥺 PLS

sí

notes: fluff, established relationship, wlw content, possibly ooc

‘ wrapped around your finger ’

powder x female reader

sometimes powder catches herself staring at you.

she would have been in the middle of meddling with one of her personal projects, eyes narrowed and nimble fingers straining to screw a pesky tiny nail, until the next thing she knows is she had suddenly turned to look at you sometime in the middle of working. she has no idea how long she had been staring for, watching you sitting beside her just a few feet away, but she jumps when your head lifts and your eyes land on hers.

looking a little panic-stricken, powder twists herself back around, readjusting her hair.

“how’s it comin’ along?” your voice sounds from beside her, making her release a breath and smile gently.

“just have some screws to tighten and light varnishing to apply. after that—should be pretty much complete.” powder finalizes looking down at her project with a proud smile, which makes yours widen. oh how adorable she could be without even trying.

you hum in acknowledgment and drag your stool to get closer to her. the only reason you had been sitting farther away from her in the first place was so she could have the room she needed to work on her things. but now she looks set to take a break, and you’ll steal any moment you can get your hands on to spend time with her.

after getting permission to touch it you pick up the object and turn it around in your hands, looking closely at all of the details and ridges. powder’s creations never fail to impress you, and it makes you admire her more after each and every one she shows you.

“as perfect as all of your other stuff turns out.” you sigh almost dreamily, placing it back down and looking at powder who’s already staring at you with a cautious expression. it softens a little and she shrugs carelessly.

“i wouldn’t use ‘perfect’ to describe my works. but i appreciate it anyhow.” powder says, avoiding your gaze and leaning her arm on the table. you’re brows immediately furrow.

“you should have more confidence in your work. you have a wonderful talent, powder.” you place your hand on her shoulder and lean closer, “show it off with pride.”

you finalize with a kiss to her freckled cheek.

powder’s cheeks heat up as she smiles down at you gratefully. she feels so incredibly lucky to have you in her life as a supportive figure, and you being her girlfriend at the same time just makes it 100 times better.

filled with an affection, powder takes your hand resting on your lap and laces your fingers together, silently raving at the way it sends happy jitters and butterflies in her stomach. her head rests atop yours when you lean it against her shoulder.

“and i mean it, lovely.” you add firmly, making powder chuckle softly.

“thank you. i appreciate it a lot. more than you probably know.”

you huff a laugh through your nose and lift your head to look up at her closely with a cheeky smile. with your free hand you poke her cheek playfully, “oh, you make it known~, don’t worry.” your joke manages to not go over powder’s head, causing her to blush and roll her eyes giggling.

“shut up! you joke about it now, but you’re not laughing once i actually get you wrapped around my finger.” the blue haired girl quips, leaning in close with a smirk and blue eyes filled with something mischievous. that makes your eyes widen—the overtly sexual innuendo was uncalled for coming from her.

your shoulders bump as you two tease each other back and fourth under your breaths, hushed giggles echoing around the large open space of powder’s private workshop; your bodies subconsciously having gotten closer with hands starting to get curious.

in a moment of silence, your eyes flutter down to powder’s lips. her own doing the same, both of you exchange a silent confirmation and slowly close the distance between you.

unknowingly to both of you, someone is approaching. the sound of footsteps halt and someone clears their throat some 15 feet away. yours and powder’s lips just barely graze when you both hear the intruder, causing you both to jump away with gasps. at the sight of the third person in the room you’re filled with immense annoyance, peeved at being disrupted.

“sorry to intrude, but, vander sent me to look for you. you’re 20 minutes late to your shift.” ekko’s eyes awkwardly shift around the room before focusing on powder, “you probably don’t wanna keep him waiting much longer…”

you frown. the girl is immediately shooting out of her seat and cursing at herself, knocking things over while scrambling to grab her stuff scattered around the area. you grimace and reach out to help her out.

“fuck, he’s gonna be so mad. i’ve never been late before!”

“we can give him and excuse.” ekko calmly suggests in hopes of calming powder down.

“tell ‘im you ate too much cheese and couldn’t leave the bathroom for an hour.” you smirk. ekko chuckles beside you against the railing, shaking his head.

powder only scoffs. “don’t make this a joke.” she grumbles. she stands up straight and tosses her bag over her shoulder, “we need to go now. please.”

she’s already halfway out the door.

the two of you walk down the busy street with your arm hooked around hers, the warm sunny weather making it feel as though someone lit a candle in your chest and made a lovely home there. ekko walks alongside you, rambling passionately about his concepts for an upcoming project of his own while you smile in acknowledgment and give your own comments.

you still deeply wish you could have more time of the day to spend with powder, alas she has a job. but so many hangout ideas are swirling in your brain and making you skip in excitement at the thoughts.

next think you're going to do is sunbathe and go for a swim in the river; a perfect way to celebrate the oncoming summer season.

[delulustateofmind]

JJK x Reader: Christmas Edition

Just a few headcannons for the holidays!

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, & Shoko

TW: FLUFF!

WC: 1.1k (short and sweet!)

A/n: Happy holidays everyone! Hope you all are having an amazing day and get to take time for yourselves. Thank you for all the love this year, appreciate you all!

Gojo

 Gojo is absolutely terrible at wrapping presents, and he knows it. He either gets them wrapped at the department store (when available) or just throws everything into festive bags with bows slapped on top. He’s the type to put way too much tape on a box if he does attempt wrapping—it’s endearing, really.

He loves spending Christmas with your family. It’s not that he dislikes his own—it’s just… complicated. Being surrounded by warmth and laughter is something he craves, even if he doesn’t say it outright. He’s like a big kid, buying way too many gifts for everyone but not knowing them well enough to make them personal. So instead, he turns it into a family-wide white elephant exchange, just to see everyone smile. (Also likes to playfully gossip with your family about you, LOVES to see the baby pictures, steals them and takes em home)

What he treasures most, though, is spending time with you. He thrives on simple moments—baking cookies together (where he definitely makes a mess), snuggling under a blanket to watch cheesy holiday movies, or stealing kisses under the mistletoe when no one’s looking. If he’s called out on a mission, his frustration is palpable, but he always makes it up to you with warm pastries, hot coffee, and an even warmer smile the next morning.

When it comes to gifts, Gojo is surprisingly sentimental. Handmade presents? He melts. There’s something about knowing you put effort and love into it that makes his heart ache in the best way. And when you both have kids one day, he’s all-in on the Santa act. He’ll dress up, bellow “Ho, ho, ho!” with way too much enthusiasm, and take an embarrassing amount of photos to show off to his students. Watching your kids’ faces light up on Christmas morning? That’s his favorite part of the holiday. He absolutely melts when they make him things, best believe he is wearing that macaroni necklace.

Geto

Geto doesn’t trust anyone else to wrap his gifts. He’s so meticulous about it—crisp corners, perfectly aligned patterns, and just the right amount of ribbon. It’s almost frustrating how good he is at it. (If you wrap something bad, like a single wrinkle bad, best believe that present is tucked in the very BACK of the tree and he just smiles when you ask about it)

He’s also the best gift giver. The kind who remembers that one thing you mentioned in passing months ago. Need a specific book? Done. Want to try crochet? Here’s an entire set, complete with a personalized guide he wrote himself. It’s never about the cost with him—it’s about the thought behind it.

Christmas Eve with him is peaceful. After the twins are fast asleep, you and Geto sit by the tree, wrapping gifts together. He’s quietly focused, assembling the big surprise gift for the girls—a playset, a dollhouse, something that requires way too many tiny screws. You laugh at how serious he gets, his brows furrowed as he carefully places every sticker. Between tasks, you talk. About life, about dreams, about how far you’ve come together. He enjoys the little life you both created. His little hallmark movie.

If your family is welcoming, he’s happy to visit with the girls. He’s a little reserved at first but softens quickly when he sees how much they’re loved. Still, his favorite Christmases are the intimate ones, just the four of you. The girls bring out a side of him that’s so gentle, so tender. He wants to give them the childhood he never had—filled with warmth and joy.

On Christmas morning, he’s in the kitchen flipping pancakes shaped like stars, hearts, and (attempted) snowmen. His laugh is soft but full when the girls giggle at his less successful attempts. The whole day is dedicated to family activities—decorating cookies, building gingerbread houses, and playing with new toys. At the end of the day, when the house is quiet again, he pulls you close, brushing a kiss to your temple. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Would be the type to propose on Christmas, he'd hide it in the tree or something. Asking you to come look at some random ornament only for you to look back at him on one knee. (Would do this when the girls are little so you both can have the perfect little flower girls)

Nanami

Nanami doesn’t mind wrapping gifts, but he just doesn’t have the time. The department store option is quick and efficient, so he takes it without a second thought.

He’s incredibly thoughtful when it comes to gifting. He always finds something that feels just right—a piece of jewelry that matches your style, a book you’ve been eyeing, or tickets to a show you casually mentioned once. He follows the “one big gift, one small gift” rule, careful not to go overboard, but everything he chooses feels like it was made for you.

Your family adores him. Even if you aren’t married yet, they’ve already claimed him. His stocking hangs next to yours, and your relatives fight over who gets to sit next to him at dinner. (Everybody wonders how you snagged such a good man) It’s heartwarming to see him so at ease, his usual stoicism softened by the warmth of your family’s love.

As for receiving gifts, Nanami values thoughtfulness over extravagance. He’s the type to sit quietly while you explain why you chose his gift, his gaze steady and full of affection. “You’re so thoughtful,” he says, his voice low and warm, “it means more to me than you know.” He's not the type to show emotion during gifts however so sometimes he has you questioning whether he actually likes it or not.

On Christmas morning, over breakfast, he lets himself dream aloud. “I can just imagine little ones running into the room, waking us up with their excitement,” he says, his lips curving into a rare, tender smile. When you do have kids, he’s exactly as you imagined—a doting father who loves every chaotic, joy-filled moment. Watching them tear into their presents, hearing their laughter, and cuddling up as a family on Christmas Eve—it’s everything to him. So much that he'll ask for another next Christmas.

Shoko 

Shoko isn’t big on holidays, but she’ll indulge for you. The festive spirit isn’t something she naturally gravitates toward, but seeing you light up makes it worth it.

She doesn’t wrap gifts—it’s just not her thing. Instead, she hands you an envelope with an experience inside—a luxurious trip, an all-inclusive cruise, or a spa day. “Merry Christmas,” she says with a smirk, pressing a kiss to your lips.

She’s not big on gifts for herself, but she treasures whatever you give her, whether it’s a handmade scarf or a store-bought trinket. She’ll smile, soft and genuine, and pull you into a hug. “You spoil me,” she murmurs, but there’s nothing but gratitude in her voice.

Shoko loves quality time. She’s not much of a homebody, so she’ll take you out to see Christmas lights, holding your hand the entire time. She’s quiet but content, stealing glances at you like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world.

Kids aren’t something she sees for herself. After everything she’s witnessed, the idea of raising a potential sorcerer terrifies her. Instead, the two of you pour your love into the students, making sure they feel cared for during the holidays.

On cold winter mornings, she’s impossible to get out of bed. She wraps herself around you, burying her face in your neck, and groans when you suggest getting up. “Five more minutes,” she pleads, her voice muffled against your skin. It’s in these quiet, intimate moments that she lets her walls down completely, because you make her feel human, despite everything she has to do. 

[kingkaizen]

𝓭𝓪𝓭!𝓰𝓸𝓳𝓸 𝓼𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓼

∘ desc: moments with your shared daughter *christmas edition*

∘ ft: gojo

∘ includes: christmas traditions (also other winter related activities for anyone who does not celebrate christmas). happy holidays <3

Decorating 

You’re inside the warm, cozy living room with your daughter, who’s carefully hanging ornaments on the lower branches of the Christmas tree. You can’t help but smile at her tiny, concentrated face as she proudly shows you her latest placement, slightly crooked but utterly perfect.

“Where’s Daddy?” she suddenly asks, glancing around as if Gojo might jump out from behind the tree.

You pause, realizing you haven’t heard his usual playful remarks in a while. “Good question, sweetie.”

Stepping outside, you’re greeted by a sight that’s equal parts alarming and hilarious. There he is—your husband—half hanging off the roof, a string of Christmas lights tangled around his torso as if he spun around in them. He’s muttering to himself, trying to clip the lights in place while haphazardly balancing on the edge.

“Satoru!” you yell, rushing forward. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He turns at the sound of your voice, flashing that signature smug grin, as if dangling from a rooftop is the most normal thing ever. “I’m making our house the brightest on the block! What do you think?”

“I think you’re going to break your neck!” you shout back, torn between exasperation and laughter.

Your daughter runs outside to see what’s going on and gasps. “Daddy, are you flying like Santa?”

Gojo puffs out his chest, clearly inspired by her awe. “Exactly, sweetheart! Daddy’s doing Santa prep work. But don’t tell anyone—it’s top secret.”

Just as he says this, the clip he was trying to secure snaps free, sending him sliding down the roof. You shriek, but he somehow lands on his feet in the snow with all the grace of a cat, arms flung out dramatically.

“I meant to do that!” he declares proudly, though his hair is covered with snow and his shirt is half untucked.

Your daughter shrieks with laughter, while you sigh, rubbing your temples. “Satoru, next time just use a ladder, or maybe for some help.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he teases, winking at you.

We have Santa at Home

The mall was bustling with holiday cheer, kids lined up around every corner to meet Santa Claus. You thought it’d be a great idea to bring your daughter for a quick picture and get some last minute shopping done, but, of course, your husband had other plans.

“Why waste time in a boring line for some fake Santa when you’ve got the real deal right here?” Gojo says with a smug grin, pointing at himself.

You raise an eyebrow. “The real deal? Last I checked, Santa doesn’t have snow-white hair and no beard, honey.”

“Details, details,” he waves you off. “Just wait. She’s going to love this.”

Later that evening, you’re finishing up some wrapping when you hear a loud “Ho ho ho!” coming from the living room. You walk in to see Gojo fully decked out in a Santa suit—complete with a pillow stuffed under the jacket to make him completely look the part. Your daughter’s eyes grow wide as she gasps.

“Santa?!” she squeals, running over to him.

Gojo crouches down, his voice deeper and exaggerated, “Well, hello there, little one! What’s your name?”

“Hana”, she replies with a giggle, inching closer to her dressed up father.

“What a pretty name for an adorable little one like you! Have you been a good girl this year?”

She nods so enthusiastically it’s a miracle her head doesn’t fly off. “The best girl!”

The evening turns into an impromptu Christmas celebration. Gojo stays in character as he hands her a small “early gift” and lets her climb onto his lap for pictures. But as the hours tick on, the novelty starts to wear off—for him, at least.

“Okay, kiddo,” he says, tugging at the itchy beard. “Santa’s got to go back to the North Pole now.”

“Nooo!” she wails, grabbing his red coat. “Santa, stay,” she exclaims, jutting her lip out in a silent beg.

Gojo glances at you helplessly as your daughter’s big, watery eyes work their magic. You cross your arms, smirking. “You wanted to be the real deal, remember?”

He sighs dramatically, flopping back onto the couch. “Fine, Santa will stay a little longer. But only because I love cookies—uh, I mean, I love you.”

Your daughter giggles and climbs onto his lap again, happily chattering about what she wants for Christmas. You can’t help but laugh as Gojo leans back, already over it but trapped by his own antics.

Later, when she finally falls asleep, he collapses next to you, yanking off the Santa hat. “Next year, we’re going to the mall.”

“Sure, Santa,” you tease, planting a kiss on his cheek.

Baking

The smell of sugar and vanilla wafted through the kitchen as you and your daughter stood side by side at the counter, carefully cutting out festive shapes from the cookie dough.

“Are these enough for Santa, Mommy?” she asked, holding up a slightly misshapen star.

“More than enough, cutie. But maybe make one extra—just in case Santa gets really hungry,” you reply with a knowing smile.

She giggles, carefully placing her creation onto the baking sheet. By the time the cookies are in the oven, she’s bouncing with excitement, chattering about how Santa will love her “masterpieces.” After they’re done, she insists on arranging them perfectly on a plate, complete with a glass of milk and a tiny carrot for the reindeer.

Hours later, the house is silent, your daughter fast asleep upstairs, when you creep downstairs for a midnight check. The soft glow of the Christmas tree lights the room, and there’s Satoru, already at the plate, milk in hand and a cookie halfway to his mouth.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, arms crossed.

He freezes, looking like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar. “Santa’s on a break,” he says with a grin, waving the cookie at you.

Rolling your eyes, you join him, plucking a cookie from the plate. “If Santa eats too many, our daughter might notice.”

“She’s too busy being the cutest thing in the world to count cookies,” he says, taking a big bite. Then, with a teasing grin, he adds, “Besides, I’m doing her a favor. This one was burnt on the bottom.”

You laugh quietly and lean against him, enjoying the peaceful moment as the two of you share cookies by the light of the tree.

“Think she’ll notice the bite marks?” you ask, glancing at the carrot on the plate.

Gojo smirks. “Nah, but I’ll gnaw on it if it helps sell the story.”

“Please don’t,” you say, laughing harder, but you know he probably will.

The two of you finish your stolen snack, leaving just enough for your daughter to try for herself. 

Opening Presents

The first rays of morning sunlight peek through the curtains as you hear the sound of little feet padding down the hallway. Moments later, your daughter bursts into the room, her face lit up with excitement.

“It’s Christmas! Mommy, Daddy, wake up! Santa came!” she exclaims, practically vibrating with energy.

You groggily sit up, laughing as she grabs Satoru’s arm and tries to tug him out of bed. “C’mon, Daddy! You have to see!”

Satoru, ever the dramatic one, groans like he’s being dragged from the depths of sleep. “Santa came? Are you sure? Maybe we should check if he left any presents for me,” he teases, scooping her up in one swift motion.

You all head to the living room together, where the Christmas tree sparkles with lights, and a mountain of presents sits waiting. Your daughter gasps, clapping her hands. “He came! He really came!”

The morning is a blur of laughter, torn wrapping paper, and wide-eyed amazement as she opens each gift. Every reaction is pure joy—her squeal of delight when she unwraps the toy she’s been dreaming of, the way her little hands hug a stuffed animal like it’s the most precious treasure in the world.

Satoru, always one to ham it up, acts just as surprised as she does. “Wow, Santa must’ve known you’ve been such a good girl this year!” he says, ruffling her hair.

When she opens a gift that’s clearly from you and him—a cute kids makeup set—you can’t help but laugh as she insists on doing everyone’s makeup immediately. Gojo groans, claiming he looks ridiculous, but he complies when she bats her big, sparkling eyes at him.

At one point, she finds a small, poorly wrapped package with “To Daddy, Love Hana” scrawled in crayon. She beams as he opens it, revealing a handmade bracelet strung with colorful plastic beads.

“Wow, this is the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” he says, slipping it on his wrist like it’s pure gold.

As the morning winds down, you all collapse on the couch in a pile of wrapping paper and contented smiles. Your daughter is happily playing with her toys on the floor, and Satoru leans over, kissing your cheek.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmurs.

“Merry Christmas,” you reply, your heart full as you watch your little family bask in the magic of the day.

Snow day

You wake up to the world outside transformed into a winter wonderland, a thick blanket of snow covering everything. Your daughter is already at the window, pressing her tiny hands against the glass.

“Mommy! Daddy! Look! It snowed so much!” she squeals, spinning around with excitement.

Satoru peeks out from under the covers, pretending to groan. “It’s so early… Are you sure we have snow?”

Your daughter runs over and starts tugging on his arm. “Yes, Daddy! Hurry up! We have to go play!”

A little while later, you’re all bundled up in coats, scarves, and mittens, stepping into the crisp, cold air. Satoru immediately scoops up a handful of snow and throws it in the air like confetti. The first task of the day is building a snowman. Your daughter diligently rolls the snow into uneven spheres while Satoru adds his signature touch: sunglasses, a scarf tied like it belongs on a runway, and a lopsided carrot nose.

“Behold! The coolest snowman in town,” he declares, striking a dramatic pose next to it.

“Daddy, you’re so silly,” your daughter giggles, clapping her hands.

After the snowman is complete, the chaos begins. Satoru sneakily forms a snowball and tosses it at you, hitting your shoulder. “Snowball fight!” he yells, already running for cover behind the snowman.

“Oh, you’re so getting it now,” you laugh, scooping up snow as your daughter gleefully joins in.

The backyard becomes a battlefield of flying snowballs and shrieks of laughter. Your daughter targets Satoru relentlessly, who dramatically flops into the snow every time he’s hit. “Ahh, I’ve been defeated! Not the face!” he cries, pretending to surrender.

But, of course, he never stays down for long, launching surprise attacks and tackling you both into soft piles of snow.

Eventually, you’re all exhausted, your cheeks flushed and your hands freezing. Satoru picks up your daughter and spins her around before carrying her inside, declaring, “Victory is mine!”

Back in the warmth of the house, you all gather around the kitchen table with steaming mugs of hot chocolate topped with marshmallows. Your daughter leans her head against you, still beaming.

“That was the best snow day ever,” she says sleepily.

Satoru grins, ruffling her hair. “Of course it was. Your dad makes everything epic.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling, knowing this day will be one of those precious memories you’ll all treasure.

© kingkaizen | do not copy, steal, or duplicate!

[pttwice]

forever (3)

|| littleautistic!dahyun, cg!satzu ||

tw: mentions of abuse, abandonment, and violence

Sana feels like the most successful person in the world as the first week of taking care of Dahyun comes to an end. Other than a few scares in the department store when Sana had to go Christmas shopping, Dahyun did well. She was quiet, but she spoke a little bit more, always holding onto Sana’s hand.

“This?” Dahyun asks as she tugs on Sana’s sleeve. She points to the coloring page she’s been working on for a few minutes.

Sana turns, briefly moving her attention for the gift she’s wrapping for Tzuyu to the picture of a polar bear with a Santa hat. “That’s a polar bear,” Sana says, voice soft and sweet. She pulls up a picture on her phone and shows it to the little girl. “They live where it’s super cold.”

Dahyun nods, taking her time to soak up the information. She looks at the orange crayon in her hand and shakes her head, picking out a white one instead. “Polar bear.”

“That’s right, Hyun. You’re so smart.”

Sana’s not sure where the nickname came from, but every time she calls Dahyun ‘Hyun’, she notices that the girl seems happier. She can almost see the warmth spreading through her body at the praise.

Dahyun continues to work on the coloring page, switching between white and red for the polar bear, Santa hat, and presents surrounding it. Tzuyu comes home earlier than Sana expects, forcing her to finish gift wrapping once everyone’s asleep.

“I can’t believe you had to work Christmas Eve,” Sana says with a pout as she gets up to kiss her wife.

Tzuyu chuckles softly and returns the kiss. She wraps her arms around Sana’s waist, hands supporting her lower back. “Well, I volunteered today so I can spend all day with you and the little tofu sitting there.”

This draws a giggle from Dahyun for the first time. She’s never heard someone call her that before and she thinks she likes it. She knows tofu to be soft and white. Is it squishy too? Probably.

Tzuyu lets Sana go and sits down beside Dahyun. She keeps a few inches between them, knowing that she’s warmed up to her wife more than herself. “What’s that, Hyun?”

Dahyun looks up at Tzuyu, slightly unsure about the woman still. But, after a pause, she holds up her coloring page proudly. She points to it and Sana swears she sees her chest puff out with a little pride as she says, “Polar bear.”

“Wow! A polar bear, huh? And you even colored it white. Good job, kiddo.” Tzuyu praises the little girl and feels her heart ache at the beaming smile she’s been given. She moves to stand up so she can put her work bag away, not wanting Dahyun to see any potentially violent files, but she’s stopped before she can even move to her knees.

Dahyun sets her coloring page down and crawls into Tzuyu’s lap. She wiggles a bit to situate herself in the space where Tzuyu’s legs are crossed, then picks up another coloring page and a blue crayon for a fish.

Tzuyu slowly looks back at Sana, mouth open in shock as she points to Dahyun. Sana’s equally as confused, but she stays quiet. Both under the impression that Sana’s the favorite and Tzuyu’s only sometimes safe to be near, they’re not sure what to make of the scene.

Sana stares for a little while longer before she’s able to begin to process what she’s seeing. Once she moves back to the living room floor, she smiles softly and leans back on her hands. “Is Tzuyu comfy, Hyun?”

Without looking up from her coloring page, Dahyun nods. She flaps her left hand around, her right still working on staying in the lines of the picture, and smiles. Dahyun starts to hum as she colors, something Sana’s noticed she only does when she’s feeling safe and comfortable.

“What should I do?” Tzuyu mouths to Sana who just shrugs. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and takes a quick picture, not wanting to forget this moment.

Sana and Tzuyu love kids. As a teacher, Sana is always around children, and even though she doesn’t make a lot of money, she’s rewarded whenever they excel in her class. Tzuyu’s always been a bit hesitant of taking care of children directly, but whenever she’s at work, she’ll stop at nothing to ensure their safety.

Sana drinks in the moment, giggling softly at Tzuyu’s still bewildered look as she awkwardly sits under Dahyun. Although she sitting as stiff as a cardboard box, she knows that inside her wife’s as excited as a kid on Christmas.

//

One thing that Sana’s learned about Dahyun is that she’s very particular about her food. The first night she was with them, they had fried chicken, carrots, and radish for a side dish.

Dahyun was happily eating, quiet as usual, until the edge of a carrot touched a piece of her chicken. Sana watched as the content smile on her face disappeared, quickly replaced by a deep frown. She pushed the carrot back to the others, but Dahyun’s frown stayed. They tried to get her yo eat the rest of her food, but she wouldn’t budge.

Tonight, Sana decided to order tteokbokki. She’s learned since last time and makes sure that Dahyun’s plate has separate places for her food to go. One little walled off part is for the tteokbokki, one is for green beans, and another is for tofu.

Dahyun nearly devours the tofu and tteokbokki, but she pushes the green beans from her own plate to Tzuyu’s.

“You don’t want to try the green beans, Hyun?” Tzuyu stabs one of the green beans with her fork and eats it, smiling as Dahyun sticks her tongue out. The girl raises her hand to pull at the hair above her ear, but Sana gently redirects her hand to her lap.

“It’s okay, Hyun. You don’t have to eat them. We just wanted to make sure you had the chance.”

Sana’s gentle. Dahyun likes that she’s gentle and she likes that she’s not forced to eat food she thinks is yucky. It’s a foggy memory, but she can see a group of men forcing her to eat a yucky food that she’s never liked. Maybe it was green beans.

“Uhm…” Dahyun starts, looking down at her plate as she tries to find her words.

Sana and Tzuyu are patient. They learned after a few hours that Dahyun barely speaks and when she does it’s only a few words at a time. Sana’s fairly certain now that Dahyun has autism, but she doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it. She knows that drawing attention to it now, especially when things are so hectic in Dahyun's little brain, will only make things harder for her.

"Uhm... what- what-" Dahyun huffs, frustrated with herself. Sana's seen this a hundred times in the week that they've had her and it breaks her heart. Dahyun starts to speak, has an idea of what she wants to ask about or talk about, but her words struggle to come out together.

"It's okay, Hyun. There's no rush." Usually, Sana says something like this. She noticed the first time she said it to the little girl, she'd never heard anything like that before. Sana hates thinking the worst, but she feels like Dahyun's never had someone be patient with her.

"Wh-what next?" Dahyun visibly relaxes once she asks what she wants. She pushes her plate away from her, signaling that she doesn't want to eat anymore.

"Well, since it's Christmas Eve, I was thinking that we can watch a movie." Sana smiles as she watches Dahyun's eyebrows raise a little. A small smile slowly makes its way to her lips. "We'll sit on the couch and get you cuddled up with Kaya and Butter. How does that sound?"

Dahyun takes her time to think about Sana's offer. She loves the doggies and they've become her favorites. They sleep with her and protect her from scary dreams before Sana comes in to sing her to sleep. She wishes they could talk, but she knows that doggies can't talk.

"Watch a movie," Dahyun repeats. She slides out of her seat and walks into the living room. Not noticing that Sana and Tzuyu are still eating their dinner, she patiently waits and pets Kaya and Butter. She likes that they sit so close to her. Sometimes Kaya will even sit on her lap.

Tzuyu and Sana finish their food, putting their plates in the dish washer before they join Dahyun on the couch. Sana opts to sit next to Tzuyu a few cushions away, knowing that the little girl usually likes to sit in between Kaya and Butter.

"Okay, Hyun. I'm going to look through the movies and you point when you see one that you like."

Dahyun nods, her eyes focused on the TV. Her hand continues to thread through Kaya's fur, Butter curled up into her side. All of the movies look so colorful and happy. They make Dahyun's brain feel better just looking at all the little characters on the posters. Eventually though, one catches her eye. She points excitedly at the screen, her little arm stretched out as far as she can.

"Frosty the Snowman it is." Sana sets the remote down after she presses play. Getting up, she grabs the blankets off the couch. She lays one over Tzuyu's lap then takes a few steps to drape Dahyun's over her and the dogs. As she lowers the blanket, she catches Dahyun's eyes. They're still full of confusion and sadness, but there's something soft that Sana hadn't seen the first time they met.

Before Sana can turn to sit back beside Tzuyu, Dahyun grabs onto her fingers. She looks up at Sana with big, brown eyes and gently tugs on her. "Me," Dahyun says quietly. She pats the space to her right that isn't being taken up by Butter and tugs on Sana again.

"A-are you sure?" Sana's breathing is a little unsteady as Dahyun's eyes stay locked with her own. It's taken days to get this little girl to open up even the tiniest bit and the last thing she wants to do is break the small amount of trust she has with her.

Dahyun nods and tugs on Sana again. After a few more seconds of staring at each other, Sana lowers into the cushion on Dahyun's right. She keeps her hands in her lap and slowly relaxes into her spot.

The movie is old and nostalgic for Sana and Tzuyu, and it seems like it's just enough for Dahyun. They've found that she likes old movies because there's less going on. She doesn't get as confused by the plots and the colors are less intense.

//

The movie's almost over and Sana's getting ready to remind Dahyun of their bedtime routine they created. Sana looks down and her breath catches in her throat as Dahyun's little head slowly falls into her lap. Her eyes wide, she glances over at Tzuyu who looks equally as shocked. The day was already unbelievable when Dahyun crawled into Tzuyu's lap.

Sana's as still as can be, now understanding why Tzuyu was stiff when Dahyun was on her lap. She looks back down at Dahyun, her breathing evened out. Her little hand is still resting on Kaya's lower back, Butter still snoozing away on her left.

The movie ends and Sana really wants to get Dahyun to sleep so she can fishing wrapping presents and get them under the tree, but she hasn't seen the girl this peaceful since she found her.

"I think I can pick her up," Tzuyu whispers as she slowly pushes herself off the couch.

Sana shakes her head and shifts a bit, squeezing her eyes shut when Dahyun lets out a small sigh. She cracks one eye open, thankful that she isn't actually waking up. "She's going to wake up if you move her."

Tzuyu kneels beside the couch, her hands carefully wrapping around Dahyun's tiny waist. She's afraid that the sound of her heart beating out of her chest is going to wake the poor girl up. Thankfully, Dahyun's breathing is still even as Tzuyu cradles her in her arms. She stands up on shaky legs, not being used to carrying anyone heavier than Kaya or Butter (and sometimes Sana).

Sana watches the two and holds her breath as Tzuyu slowly makes her way down the hall and into the guest room that's slowly turned into Dahyun's room. Once the door shuts behind Tzuyu, Sana can finally breathe.

"Did you see that?" Sana asks, still in slight disbelief of the past ten minutes. "She fell asleep on me."

Tzuyu chuckles and nods as she sits down beside her wife. She pulls Butter into her lap and pets Kaya. "I know. I thought she was going to wake up and panic."

//

Sana stayed up way later than she meant to, so when she's met with a tiny face about an inch away from her own as she opens her eyes, she nearly flies off the bed.

"Hey, Hyun," Sana says, trying to steady her voice and act like her heart isn't about to jump out of her chest. "What are you doing up?"

Dahyun's quiet, hand clutching the little stuffed dog that Tzuyu got her as an apology for scaring her earlier in the week. She points the Sana's alarm clock and shuffles impossibly close to her and Tzuyu's bed.

Sana rubs her eyes before she sits up and looks at the clock. "Oh, shoot," she mumbles as she reads '10:00am'. "I'm sorry, Hyun. I didn't mean to sleep in so late. Where's Tzu?" Sana slowly swings her legs over the edge of the bed as she stands up.

A small shock runs through Sana when Dahyun grabs onto her fingers, but she quickly lets it go as the little girl leads her into the living room. She hides behind Sana's legs, pointing to the presents under the tree.

"Would you look at that," Sana says with a soft smile. She bends down to Dahyun's level and points to Tzuyu who's sitting by the tree and presents. "It looks like Santa came and it looks like there's some presents for you."

Dahyun doesn't really know what a present is, but she does like the colorful paper on them. She's a little worried that they're bad because the last time she was surprised with something, it really hurt.

"It's okay, Hyun. Presents are super fun. They have all kinds of toys in them." Sana's voice is gentle. It causes a warmth to rise in Dahyun's chest and gives her a little courage to sit a little closer to the tree. She reaches out and gently pokes one of the presents. When it doesn't jump out at her, she pokes it again, deeming it safe.

Sana hands Dahyun a present, peeling a part of the wrapping paper to show her how to open it. They watch as Dahyun slowly peels back more of the wrapping paper, relaxing a little when the sound doesn't scare her.

"Doggy," Dahyun says as she holds a toy dog in her hand. It looks familiar. She thinks it's the kind of dog she met when she was younger. As she holds it, turning it around in her tiny hands, she smiles and pulls it into her chest.

Other than a few presents for the dogs and two presents each that Tzuyu and Sana got each other, the rest are for Dahyun. Coloring books, toys, and stuffed animals are scattered about the living room floor as Tzuyu picks up the shredded wrapping paper. Dahyun's busy excitedly flipping through a number coloring book while Sana takes pictures of the scene.

"Do you think she's ever had a Christmas?" Sana whispers to Tzuyu. Her wife shakes her head and it takes everything in Sana to hold back her tears. Knowing there's a possibility that they're giving the girl her first Christmas tears Sana up inside and warms her at the same time.

The rest of the day is spent playing with Dahyun's new toys. She's slowly coming out of her shell and warming up to her new caregivers. She knows that something like this won't last and it never does, but for now, she's happy to be in a warm house. And she really does like the doggies.

[castlescrumblingdvwn]

words cannot explain what this scene did to me

LIKEEE. those smiles brimming with pure joy? the way they're holding each other? the overall warm colour grading with that gorgeous backdrop? just. everything about this. and they say romance is dead

[fallingforyouforeverr]

𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐭 | 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬

summary: lando begins to panic when you don't want to cuddle with him

author's note: it's really hot rn where I live so i just wanted to write a cute little blurb inspired by my own suffering. vote here for who i write my next fic about!

• f1 masterlist • youtubers masterlist •

Lando was confused. He didn't think he had done anything wrong, and you didn't seem to be upset with him until now, so he couldn't possibly understand why you were refusing to cuddle with him.

It started off as most of your evenings did. After dinner, he washed the dishes while you dried and put them away, then you both moved into the living room to watch some tv before bed. Only, when Lando tried to pull you closer, you pushed his arm off you, moving away and leaving your boyfriend staring at you like a kicked puppy.

You didn't seem to think anything of it, settling back down on the other side of the sofa and pressing play on your favourite show. However, Lando was still frozen, mind reeling from your rejection. He wondered if you were ignoring him because you were mad or if it was just a mistake and you genuinely couldn't feel his eyes on you.

At last, the uncertainty became to much to bear and he decided to speak up. "Um...baby?" He asked tentatively, watching your face closely to see your reaction.

"Yeah?" You answered, glancing away from the screen.

Huh. That's weird. You didn't seem mad at all, and you obviously weren't ignoring him, so what was this about? Maybe you weren't feeling well suddenly?

"You feeling okay, sweetheart?"

Turning your body to face him, your equally as confused expression only eased his worries slightly. "Yeah, I'm alright. Why?"

Deciding it was probably best to be direct, Lando spoke again. "You pushed me away!"

You couldn't help but giggle at the adorable pout on his face, suddenly feeling bad for not explaining your behaviour earlier. "Lan, my love, I'm so sorry! I promise I'm not mad at you or anything, it's just because of the weather."

"The weather?" His expression changed, a slight frown settling into his brow as he waited for you to continue speaking.

"It's too hot," you explained. "It's my first summer in Monaco, I wasn't expecting it to be this warm. I didn't want to cuddle because I knew I would overheat."

Lando mentally slapped himself for not thinking of that as a possibility. He had lived here for a few years so he was used to the unrelenting sunshine by now, but you had only moved in with him recently so of course you weren't. He couldn't help but laugh at how much he was stressing over something so small.

"You idiot, making me panic like that!" The brunette scolded you playfully. You stared up at him innocently, batting your eyelashes with a smile.

Lando suddenly grabbed hold of your waist, and you shrieked loudly. You wriggled helplessly in his grasp, as he tickled you sides, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"I'll stop if you say sorry."

"Never," you gasped, swatting at his hands. He merely shrugged, tickling you harder.

"You sure?"

"Okay, okay, I-I'm sorry!" You managed between breathless pants.

Lando grinned cheekily at you, allowing you a moment to catch your breath before he leaned in to kiss you softly. You threw your arms around his neck tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss. When you finally had to pull away for air, he rested his forehead against yours.

"I thought you were too hot," he teased, causing you to groan again and smack his shoulder. Lando pressed another quick kiss to your lips before continuing, "and for the record, I am definitely buying you like 20 fans tomorrow."

[iluvloganhowlett]

I need more hugh and reader PLEASE he’s so cute pattotie which is such a contrast from Logan lmao

CUTIES ✮⋆˙

in which ryan reynolds has a private snap story where he secretly films cute moments between you and hugh

warnings: none, just fluff!

do NOT ask how i thought of this…

the camera started by showing ryan, a bit too up close and personal for the average person’s liking. “hey nerds, welcome back to ‘i-spy with ry-ry.’ today, i just saw hugh and y/n make their way to hair and makeup together so we’re gonna follow them and see where the wind takes us. hopefully that won’t be to a small, crappy bathroom stall..”

alas, the camera flips and you and hugh can be shown skipping off to hair and makeup, babbling about whether or not a tomato should or should not be considered a fruit.

“baby when have you ever heard of tomatoes in fruit salad or in a fruit smoothie or when have you ever asked for fruit and were handed a cup of tomatoes?”

“never… but-“

“so then i rest my case, thank you very much.”

you squeal, running a little to catch up to hugh as he rounds the last corner to hair and makeup.

“hugh!” you call, landing a soft and playful punch on his back, causing him to swiftly grab you and tickle your sides.

as you giggle uncontrollably, the camera flips back to ryan, who unexpectedly has tears welling up in his eyes. “i’m sorry it’s just- god they’re adorable. they make me wanna have more children.”

your giggles can still be heard in the background, and for the next chunk of time, all that is shown is a rather unflattering angle of ryan watching you and hugh.

as soon as your voice can be heard again, ryan flips the camera back.

“y’know it’s not very nice to hold others against their will like that,” you mutter, looking up at hugh with a playfully-angered look.

he shoves you, causing you to lose your balance ever so slightly, “aw get outta here! you love me!”

you tilt your heard, grabbing hugh’s hand as the two of you swing your joint arms back and forth, “maybe.”

hugh’s head snaps toward you, brows high, “maybe?!”

you only smirk, “maybe.”

he shakes his head, “you’re a little shit i hope y’know that.”

“eh you love me,” you repeat, stealing his words.

ryan zooms in on your faces, and hugh can be seen clearly as his eyes—full of nothing but love and adoration—flicker between your eyes and your lips.

you close the small space between you two, leaning up on your tippy-toes and pressing your lips to his. the kiss is slow and passionate, making ryan squeal out loud; louder than he thought he had.

you two break apart, heads darting to wherever the sound came from.

“ryan what the hell?!” you exclaim, a bright smile on your face as you tilt your head.

hugh can be seen with a twisted face, looking his best friend up and down.

“alright i can explain-“ ryan pleads as if he’s in a movie, but hugh has already made his way towards the camera, snatching it out of ryan’s hand.

you follow suit, hugh’s hand on the small of your back to guide you. you lean up, almost choking when you read the title of the story, “ryan are you fucking forreal? ‘i-spy with ry-ry?”

“i-“

“you’re a strange man…” hugh states, wrapping his arm fully around you waste now to guide you the opposite direction from ryan, actually making your way to hair and makeup.

as soon as your backs are turned, ryan flips the camera to himself, “alright everyone, that’s it for todays episode of i-spy with ry-ry, stay tuned for-“

“ryan shut ya damn mouth, man!”

“bye-“ *camera cuts*

ok i’m actually satisfied with this bc 1) it’s veryyy original 2) tumblr deleted this whole thing and i had to rewrite it from memory🤦🏽‍♀️

taglist!!

@velvrei @spazwayy @oatmilkriver @sseleniaa @mei-simp @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesangel @realsimpbitchshit @pickuptruck01 @keigohawks @thereallchristine @zeeader @pink-jello-fish @twinky-wink @malfoys-demigod @seamlessepiphany @withafoll @lulawantmula

[mrkis]

raw. (m.l)

PAIRING: mark lee x afab!reader GENRE: smut WORD COUNT: 3.4k

SYNOPSIS: you find out you're out of condoms as soon as you and mark are about to have sex. feeling defeated, mark opts to go relieve himself in the bathroom but you suggest maybe that its time for him to finally fuck you raw.

CONTENT WARNINGS: explicit content, established relationship, light touching, starts off with sweet!mark then switches to pussy drunk!mark, unprotected sex, creampie, heavy use of 'my girl' and 'baby', nasty dirty talk mark doesn't shut the fuck up,

“I’ve missed you.” Mark mouths at your skin, arms tight around your middle as he presses you against his chest, breathing in the scent of your body wash and perfume as he nuzzles his head into the crevice of your neck. You smile, lacing your fingers through his hair as you melt into his embrace and he hums at the soft tugs you give, suckling and nipping at the spot where your shoulder and neck meet.

“Ow,” A giggle leaves your lips as Mark bites down a little too hard and your body angles away from him, only for him to whine and try and draw your back to him, muttering an apology against your neck as he tightens his hold on you. “We can’t stand here all day, Mark.”

Mark huffs as if what you’ve stated is something so offensive it hurts his feelings, shoulders sagging as he reluctantly lets you go but his hand slips into your own, intertwining your fingers as he allows you to pull him to a more suitable place than your front door, dragging his socked covered feet across the floorboards as he takes in your home, a warmth spreading through his chest.

Mark missed being at your place, the sweet familiar smell of a candle that was previously burning filling his senses, the hum of the TV playing your favourite show in the background, the subtle misplaced ornaments and potted plants that you’ve picked up to move or admire.

He takes a glance at your kitchen as he passes it, noticing a dish and a bowl soaking in soapy water and he smiles knowing you’ve eaten already, wondering if it was something delicious and filling for you. He wants to ask what it could’ve been, but the question remains on the tip of his tongue as you’re pulling him towards your bedroom.

And that’s when he feels most at home. 

The bag that was once resting on his shoulders drops to the ground, mindlessly being kicked to the side as his body finally relaxes, the tiredness that he’s used to pushing at the back of his mind comes front and centre, sluggishly making his way towards the unmade bed and planting himself down on the edge. 

The hand that's holding yours pulls you between his open legs and he rests his cheek on your stomach, embracing you as he once did a few moments prior and he sighs happily as your fingers resume playing with his hair. 

“How was work?”

“Fine,” His tone is quiet and gentle. “Japan was fun. Yuta was our tour guide again and was taking us to all these places,” Mark moves his head a little to look up at you, resting his chin on your stomach inside. “I took some pictures for you—ones I haven’t sent you yet.” 

You’re more than eager to see what pictures Mark wants to show you, gently pushing him up the bed for him to lay comfortably and he laughs, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his phone while his other arm curls around you, holding you close to his side and pressing his lips to the top of your head, finding comfort in the scent of your shampoo as he unlocks his phone, clicking the camera roll app and your eyes widen in excitement seeing all the recent photos you haven’t seen.

You’re in awe watching him scroll through the photos, the scenery and the colours of it all leaving you speechless, hanging onto every word as he tells you the story behind them all, some comical and others sweet and endearing. 

“Seeing this one, like, reminded me of you.” He whispers against your head as he shows you a picture of a sunset, a blend of pinks and oranges making your heart flutter. “It’s pretty—calming, made me feel at ease. It made me miss you even more than I already did, you know.”

“You called me every night,” You tell him, laughing as he groans and rolls his eyes, throwing his phone to the side before gripping your hips, pulling your body on top of his and massaging your thighs with his fingers, kneading the skin as they settle on each of his sides. 

“You know it’s not the same,” Mark argues, tongue swiping across his bottom lip. “I love hearing your voice over the phone but, like, having you there with me physically means more to me. I get to hold you, I get to touch you… I get to kiss my girl.”

“Is that so?”

Mark hums with a short nod of his head before he cranes his neck up to meet your lips in a short but sweet kiss, squeezing your thighs once you reciprocate and he smiles against your lips as he feels your hands cradle his cheeks.

Then, you feel it. His hard cock pressing your inner thigh, twitching with each subtle movement of your hips as you rest your entire weight on him, causing him to grunt against your lips due to the pressure on his cock. 

“Are you tired?” You pull away from his lips to ask him and you bite back the smile that threatens to spread across your cheeks as Mark follows, wanting your mouth back on his. 

“A little,” He admits, squeezing your thighs. “But I don’t care. Just want you.”

Warmth fills your chest, “You want me?”

“So bad.” 

You don’t have time to swoon over his words as he’s already leaning up and reconnecting your lips in a much deeper kiss, biting down on your bottom lip and sliding his tongue into your mouth to tangle with your own all while his hands slip around to grip your ass, pulling you ever closer so that your chest is pressed against his. 

You kiss for a while, relishing in the way his lips feel on yours, familiar with the slow and unrushed pace he takes and your hands curl around the front of his shirt, signalling for him to take it off immediately and he smiles against your mouth, breaking the kiss for a moment to allow you to pull the material over his head.

He’s giving you a toothy smile, eyes twinkling with adoration as he stares up at you and his fingers twitch over the hem of your shirt, ready to take it off and you happily give him permission to do so, raising your arms in the air and Mark tugs it off, throwing it carelessly to the side before his hands touch your skin, palms hot and clammy as he brings you in for another kiss, one that's more desperate and needy.

Mark’s moaning shamelessly into your mouth when your hands dip beneath the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, first curling around his cock and giving him a few experimental pumps that has him almost drawing blood on your lip when he bites down a little too hard.

“Easy,” You hum with a giggle and Mark groans, craning his neck as he throws his head back against the pillows, tongue licking his bottom lip as your hand squeezes around his cock. He lifts his hips as you begin to rid him of the rest of his clothing and you awkwardly manoeuvre above him, laughing as you almost topple over if it wasn’t for the hold he has on your hips.

“You go easy,” Mark teases you this time and you roll your eyes. You drop your hands from him to finally peel off the rest of your own clothes and he watches you with hooded lids, resting one arm behind his head while the other wraps around his cock to jerk himself off as he takes in your naked body, something he’s seen plenty of times before but he views it as if it's his first time, absorbing himself in your curves, the swell of your breasts and your pretty pussy.

“Like what you see?”

Mark smiles, “Always,”

You get a little shy at his compliment but continue to lean forwards to capture his lips in a kiss which he immediately reciprocates, his hand curls around the back of your neck to keep you still against his lips and he moans as your tongue slips inside his mouth to touch his own.

He’s still touching himself between your bodies, lifts jerking upwards into his fist and gasping in your mouth when the tip grazes over your skin, the sensitivity sending goosebumps down his spine.

You pull away from his lips much to his dismay and he tries to pull you back in but stops when he sees you manoeuvring your way down his body, leaving a trail of kisses behind which makes him moan again, mouth falling slack as he feels your tongue lick a clean stripe down his navel.

You brush your fingers over his inner thighs, smiling at how his cock twitches against his stomach, stroking further and further up his skin before your fingers grip his cock, hearing the slight hiss he makes through his teeth and you smile, leaning in closer to wrap your lips around his tip.

“Wait!” Mark suddenly yells out and you stop in surprise, bringing your gaze up from his cock to his face and he reaches his hand forward to cradle your check, his thumb caressing your skin. He looks like he’s in pain, but he explains, “I’ll cum too quickly if you suck my cock, like, seriously, I will cum the second I feel your tongue on me again.”

That makes you even more eager to shove his cock down your throat and you tighten your fingers around the base, causing him to throw his head back with a gasp, “I don’t mind.”

“But I do,” Mark weakly pushes your hand away and his cock slaps back against his stomach, his hips jerking upwards at the sudden contact. “Fuck—baby I’ve been waiting for this for so long. I want to cum fucking you—please, I—” He winces as his hand comes down to cup his balls, almost as if he’s trying to stop himself from cumming right there and there from his words. “I want to fuck you.”

You would awe at the sight if it wasn’t for the way he’s looking at you right now, so desperate and needy to be inside of you and you’re more than welcome to give him exactly what he wants, briefly nodding your head for confirmation and his shoulders drop with a relieved sigh.

Mark gently pushes you down on the bed to crawl above you, kneeling between your parted thighs and he almost drools at the sight of your pussy, glistening and ready for him to fuck. He’s quick to lean over to open the drawers of your nightstand, digging his hand inside to search around for the box of condoms he knows you have for him.

He pulls out the box and he leans back on his ankles as he dips his hand inside, and you wait patiently for him to retrieve it and roll it onto his cock, but the way his body freezes and face drops you know something is wrong and you grow concerned, leaning up on your elbows.

“Mark?”

“No, no, no,” Mark mumbles repeatedly under his breath as he turns the box upside down and shakes aggressively, praying that a condom will magically appear out of thin air and lay across the palm of his hand but it remains empty. “Jesus Christ, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

You gape at him in shock, “There’s no condoms left?”

“There’s no condoms left,” He repeats, throwing the empty box down on the bed and he runs his hand over his face in annoyance, tears of frustration prickling at his eyes. You watch as he brows pull together, how his jaw clenches and nostrils flare in anger. It was a sight you’re definitely not used to seeing, but it���s something that has your thighs clenching for some friction below. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” You try to reassure him as his cheeks get a little red and you reach up to stroke his shoulders. “We must’ve used the last one before you left to go to Japan without knowing.”

“I should’ve been prepared, you know, I should’ve bought a pack before coming here—I shouldn’t have relied on you to have the condoms but, fuck, I was just so exciting to see my girl that I didn’t even think about—”

“Baby, it’s okay.” You try to cut off his rambling by reassuring him again but it's no use.

“—And now we have nothing and I’m just—” His hands wave over his hard cock comically and you hold back a snort, watching how his fingers run through his hair with a sigh. “Okay, I should just, like, make you cum on my tongue and then I’m going to go jerk off in the—”

“No!” You shout this time, startling Mark who stares at you with wide eyes and you immediately apologise, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, baby. But you don’t need to do that, it’s okay.”

“Then what are we going to do?” He questions with a whiny tone that has your head reeling and pussy begging to be fucked. The way he’s staring at you so desperately and in pain is enough for you to come up with an idea.

“How about we just do it raw this time?”

Mark blinks, “Raw? Like, without a condom?”

“Yes.”

“Baby…” Mark sighs softly as he rubs at your thighs, “You know we can’t do that. We can’t risk anything, you know, and even though I’m certain I’m going to spend the rest of my life with my girl and start a family… we really can’t risk anything. It’s too soon and we’re both not ready for that either.”

You frown, “I know that. But nothing will happen, I promise. I’m on the pill.”

“What?”

“I’ve been on the pill for a few months,” You tell him nonchalantly and he looks at you as if you kept such a big secret away from him. “Remember that night when the condom broke and we panicked?” Mark nods his head quickly, “I went on the pill the day after that. I didn’t want us to have another scare or anything.”

“You’ve been on the pill for five months?” Mark asks you and you hum, confirming its true and he gapes in shock, dropping his gaze down to your pussy in disbelief. “So we could’ve done this five months ago?”

You struggle to hold back a laugh this time, the sound stifled by your lips. “Yes.”

“So, I can just…” Mark trails off as he shuffles forward, the tip of his cock brushing over your folds and you gasp as he flicks over your clit, thighs clamping around his hips. “I can just slide right in, feel you, fill you up.” He’s mumbling now, some words incoherent while others are clear as day, his lewdness making your face hot as his cock nudges your opening, almost teasing you by not fucking you immediately and you bite back the urge to tell him to hurry it up.

back the urge to tell him to hurry it up.

You suck in a deep breath as Mark finally pushes into you and his eyes grow wide, mouth slack as he feels the warmth of your walls fit snugly around his cock. He’s frozen above you, cock pulsing as he feels you bare for the first time and his eyes flick to yours, and his gaze suddenly darkens, his fingers pressing against the meat of your waist. 

You go to call out his name, to ask him if he’s alright but a surprised yelp flees past your lips as his hips snap forwards, burying himself deep inside of your pussy and your arms fling around his shoulders, gripping him tightly as he pants above you.

“Feel so fucking good, baby,” Mark grunts under his breath, fucking himself into you deeper and you wail, thighs clamping around his waist. “Feels so tight. All for me, yeah? Just for me. So fucking good. My pretty girl and her perfect pussy.”

“Mark.” You try to speak, stuttering over your words with each thrust, the bed creaking beneath your bodies, headboard hitting against the wall but you could care less about the noise, too surprised to see the sudden change in your boyfriend. 

His tone and his words are enough to have you gaping at him, broken moans ripping through your throat at how nasty he sounds, how he uncontrollably mutters how good your cunt feels wrapped around his cock and how wet you are for him. 

You’re not used to this. You’re used to the sweet talk, the light feathery kisses he leaves on your skin, words of sweet praises and gentle whispers of ‘i love yous’. 

You’re not complaining though. Never. 

Seeing Mark switch up just from fucking you raw for the first time has your mind spinning and electricity buzzing down your spine, fingernails digging further into his shoulder blades and clamping around him tightly, cursing him to curse.

“Fuck, that’s it. That’s it, baby. Tight little cunt squeezing me in so good,” Mark whispers in your ear, almost sounding like he’s whining. “My girl. My fucking girl.”

“Please,” You beg, even though you have no idea what you’re begging for. “Please, please, please.”

“Gonna fill you up, fuck you full of my cum,” Mark slurs his words, his pace quickening as his cock drills into you, his hands gripping your waist tighter when he hears you moan prettily for him. “You want that? Hm? Want me to fill you up? Fuck this cunt full?”

“Yes,” You pant heavily, tightening your legs around his hips, desperate for him to cum, to feel him deep inside. “Please.”

“Sounds so pretty when my baby begs for me,” Mark hums as he leans in to kiss your lips but he pulls away much too quickly for your liking, not allowing you to enjoy it. But you gasp when you feel his hand slide between your bodies, thumb rubbing your clit. “Gonna cum for me like I’m gonna cum for you, yeah? Want to see my girl cum for me before I fuck her pussy full.”

You’re already letting yourself go just from his words alone, your orgasm crashing over your like an aggressive wave and you body seizes up, almost sobbing from sensitivity as he fucks you through it, thumbing at your clit without any signs of stopping.

Your pussy contracts around his cock, sucking him in deeper, hugging around him tightly which causing his hips to stutter their movements, a grunt slipping past his lips before he leans back, hands sliding down your waist to grip your thighs, keeping you locked against him as he watches you squeeze around his cock, desperate to be filled.

“Good girl. Keep doing that for me. Feels so good, baby.” Mark’s moaning under his breath, airy moans turning into whines as he feels your walls tighten around him, too overwhelmed by the feeling that he stills, a throating groan leaving his lips as he cums, filling you up just as planned.

Mark’s breathing heavily, mesmerised with the way he’s emptying himself inside you, watching his cock twitch with his spurt of cum that paints your walls. He doesn’t pull away until he’s certain there’s nothing left to give, wincing out of sensitivity as he slowly leans back to pull out of you, his spent cock bobbing against his thigh.

“What was that?” You breathe out, leaning up on your elbows as you look at him. “Where did that come from?”

“I don’t know,” Mark mumbles, cheeks blossoming a bright red as he refuses to meet your gaze, that shy and sweet persona falling back into place. But he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from your pussy, mouth open wide as his fingers delicately stroke over your puffy folds. “Was… was I too much?”

“No,” You quickly shake your head, reassuring him. “I liked it.”

“Yeah?” Mark hums, finally meeting your gaze and you smile at him, nodding your head this time and he sheepishly grins back, staring down at his fingers that circle around your entrance that leaks with his cum and he makes the sudden decision to push it back in, causing you to gasp and whine softly. “Sorry… I don’t want anything to go to waste.”

You laugh lightly at his words, “Go to waste?”

“Mhm,” Mark nods, retracting his fingers and staring at the cum that covers his digits, the dark expression taking over once again as he looks right at you, “I’m never wearing a condom again, you know that right, baby?”

©𝗠𝗥𝗞𝗜𝗦

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

pop that cherry

a/n: woop woop! here's the little slutty story that you guys voted for when i asked what you wanted to see happen next in this au ৎ୭

summary: “hey, I get it,” he flashed you a comforting smile, “I’m a complete stranger. You just shook my hand two seconds ago and now we’re expected to bang in front of a bunch of other people you also don’t know,” his broad thumb swept over your knuckles, “you just have to decide if you wanna pack up your things, go home and chalk this up to just a fun experience, a lesson learned about what corners your sexuality and such does and does not stretch to,” he uttered with sincerity, “or you can come back inside and we can make some magic happen. It’s up to you.” 

warnings: camgirl!reader x various, pornstar!ari levinson, roommate!bucky barnes, porn director!bruce banner, smut, porn au, college au, reader’s porn name is cherry blossom (UrLittleCherry), filming pornography, reader's first time doing professional porn, kissing, masturbation, toys, oral, fingering, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dirty talk, size kink (pornstar!ari is famous for his monster cock, you're welcome), belly bulge, manhandling, multiple orgasms, squirting, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, facial

word count: 3832

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

sugar & spice au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

masterlist | join my taglist 

Curled up and melted on your mattress, you absentmindedly scrolled through your phone. Your puffy pussy, hidden between your still trembling thighs, clenched in dull soreness from the fuck machine frozen by your feet and still glistening from the show you’d put on only moments earlier. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” a familiar voice emanated from your doorway, “I didn’t know you were done streaming.”

Lazily blinking up at Bucky as he leaned against the frame, “yeah, just signed off a few minutes ago,” you exhaled, “did you just get home?” the question flowed from your lips and he swiftly nodded in confirmation, “how was class?” 

“Oh my god, don’t get me started,” your roommate let out a groan and pushed himself off the wall, his stride swiftly carrying him the short distance to where you laid and plopped himself down beside you.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you felt him press a slow peck to your exposed shoulder. 

“Do you need help lifting the toy back in the closet or–,” Bucky’s kind offer was then cut short by the shuttering gasp that suddenly crawled out of your lungs. 

“Oh my god,” your eyes grew to the size of saucers as you stared down at the message you’d opened on your phone, “oh my god!”

“What? What is it?” he propped himself up on a forearm to peek over your shoulder. 

“I–…” your eyes scanned the email wildly, “this can’t be real, right?” you cast a glance back at your friend. 

“Let me have a look,” and you swiftly handed him your phone before hearing him skim through it, “dear miss Cherry Blossom, bla, bla, bla… we here at Smash Studios really love your vibe and were wondering if you would ever consider doing professional pornography, because if so, then we would love to work with you,” his blue eyes flickered a moment longer over the screen before they fluttered up to meet yours, “no, I think it’s legit.”

“Holy shit…” you breathed, an airy giggle then bubbled out of you as this was quite the news to take in, even when one wasn’t still hazy from haven fucked one silly in front of hundreds of people. 

“You think you wanna do it?”

“Beautiful, gorgeous! And look right here, up there, yeah, that’s it…” 

Sharp clicks shuttered the camera and shot throughout the massive house as a photographer snapped the last of the stills for the shoot. You were posed perched and kneeling on a bed with your right hand buried in the already tiny crop top, you’d brought as one of the outfit options, and held up high to reveal your tits. 

The groan of floorboards creaking then found your ears and your gaze swiftly fluttered towards the door where the salt-and-pepper-haired man, who you’d come to learn was the head of the little porn studio, crossed over the threshold. 

“How are we doing in here?” Bruce adjusted his glasses before stepping further into the room. 

“I think we’re about done,” the photographer lowered the camera from his eye and cast a glance to his boss, “think we got the shot.”

“Great,” Bruce clapped his shoulder as the other man passed by and exited the room. As you tugged the short t-shirt back down into place, you met Bruce’s gaze before he asked you, “how are you doing? You ready?”

Though your mind was way too preoccupied to offer him an answer and instead blurted, “has he arrived?” as you scooted off the bed and felt the tiny shorts you wore ride up enough for your grasp to float down to adjust. 

“Not yet, I’m sorry,” he tilted his head, “trust me when I say that he isn’t usually this late. He wouldn’t have the stellar reputation he does if he was. But we can still begin without him and just fix it in post if you’re–”

Someone then poked their head and announced, “hey Banner? He’s here. I just spotted his bike roll up the driveway.”

Feeling your heart thump in your chest, you heard Bruce clap his palms together, “great!” before you followed him out of the bedroom and through the pristine halls of the rented modern mansion. 

Just before your bare feet began to conquer the long staircase, your absentminded grip tightened on the glass railing as you looked down at the open living room, clearly visible from the wide balcony, and spotted the figure that then sauntered in. 

“So sorry I’m late, traffic was literal hell.”

Ari Levinson. 

With sun-kissed brunette locks flowing from his head and a motorcycle helmet nuzzled under his burly arm, the infamous pornstar was not only blessed with a smile that could make anyone swoon, but also a dick so huge that any sane person would be downright terrified by the idea of having it split them apart. 

Though that wasn’t what had stopped you in your tracks, what had made your palms embarrassingly clammy when he soon shook one of them once you’d somehow made your way down the stairs. 

Why did your very first partner have to be someone you’d obsessively been getting off to for years? 

You were barely listening to what the people around you were saying as you couldn’t rip yourself out of the trance you’d snapped into. 

“I’m sorry, what?” you soon blinked, trying to avert your gaze. 

“I asked if you were ready,” Bruce patiently repeated. 

“…for?” you breathed, feeling as if you were inside of a giant ethereal cheese bell, making the entire world around you seem blurry. 

“For the shoot,” Bruce’s words still flew straight over your head, “I said that I was thinking that I’d do the filming myself, if that could make you more comfortable since you’ve already met me. That way it’ll just be me, the two of you and then Sam in the corner doing audio.”

“O-okay…” you said quietly, feeling your cheeks heat up as Ari let his gaze linger over you, an observant brow soon twitching as he spoke up. 

“Wait, actually,” he placed a palm on Bruce’s forearm, halting him as he reached for the bulky camera resting on the white couch, “do you mind if I grab a quick smoke break first?”

“Yeah, sure,” he nodded, “let’s just all take five before we begin.”

It caught you completely off guard when the object of your distraction walked by you and paused to murmur in your ear, “come with me outside for a second, will you?”

Shadowing him all the way out of the tall glass door and onto the terrace, you watched him lean his frame against the fence and tilt his body for you to slot in beside him. 

“I don’t actually smoke,” you uttered softly as you let your fingers ghost over the railing. 

“Oh, neither do I–, or well, that’s not completely true, I do, just didn’t need one right now.” 

“So then why did you ask for a smoke break?” you cocked a brow. 

Blowing out a swift breath, Ari then twisted to face you more and gazed directly down at you. 

“You mind if I hold your hand?” he held out his own palm.

“Oh, uhm,” your glance flickered down to his upturned hand before you carefully placed your own atop of it, “okay.”

His warm fingers swiftly engulfed your own as his stare stayed fast upon you.

“So, this is your first time, huh?”

“Oh, no, I'm not a virgin, I–” 

“I meant porn, sweetheart,” he tilted his head to be more at your level. 

“Right,” you averted your gaze as butterflies soared in your stomach, “yeah, I haven’t really done this before… I mean, I’ve some stuff, I’ve cammed for a pretty long time now and even recorded custom videos for some people, but no, I haven’t really taken this step before…” 

You were staring down at his large hand engulfing yours as he then said, “you know, it’s okay if you don’t wanna go through with it. This field isn’t for everyone, in fact, only very few thrive in this environment, and if it’s not for you, then it’s okay.”

“Oh, no,” your eyes flickered up to find his as you urged, “I wanna do this, I really do. I’m sorry, I guess I just kinda got a bit more nervous than I expected.” 

“Hey, I get it,” he flashed you a comforting smile, “I’m a complete stranger. You just shook my hand two seconds ago and now we’re expected to bang in front of a bunch of other people you also don’t know,” his broad thumb swept over your knuckles, “you just have to decide if you wanna pack up your things, go home and chalk this up to just a fun experience, a lesson learned about what corners your sexuality and such does and does not stretch to,” he uttered with sincerity, “or you can come back inside and we can make some magic happen. It’s up to you.” 

“So, Cherry,” Bruce purred behind the camera as he knelt on the floor beside where you sat at the foot of the bed, “I can’t believe we finally convinced you to come have some fun with us. I gotta tell you, you are just a fucking dream come true…”

“Oh, thank you,” you smiled, kicking your feet slightly as they dangled over the edge. 

“But you must get that all the time, I mean, look at you.”

“It has been known to happen on occasion,” you chuckled, thinking back to all of the lewd compliments the viewers of your streams generously tossed at you. 

“So, a little birdy told me that this is your very first time fucking on camera. Is that true?”

“Yeah, it is,” you bit down on your bottom lip, “I’m so ready to pop that cherry.”

“Oh, you are, are you?” he smirked, panning the bulky camera over your frame as you tilted your head in a nod, “you’re just ready to show the whole world what a perfect slut you are?”

“Think it’s about time,” you giggled in response. 

“Well, then why don’t you do something for me and stand up?” he shifted back a bit as you got up from the bed, “and now, I’ve already seen it, but can you please turn around and show everyone how fucking perfect your ass is?” a grin stayed fast on your face as you slowly spun around. Your butt was barely covered in the tiny shorts that clung around your hips, so when you twisted and let the camera catch that part of you, Bruce quietly groaned, “wow…” and he shifted his grip to let one of his hands float up towards you, “can I touch you?” 

“Sure,” you arched your back a bit to make his palm’s journey that much shorter. 

“Damn… this has got to be one of the greatest booties I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” he offered your softness a brief squeeze. His fingers first dented one cheek, then the next, before his grip caught your waistband and tugged your shorts up just a tad bit more, making the fabric momentarily rub against your covered pussy.

His flat palm then scooped around your hips and guided you back to face the camera.

“Do you wanna see my boobs?” you smiled as you blinked down at him with big doe eyes, your hands gently grazing over the hem of your crop top.

“Oh, yes, please,” he virtually begged as he let his warm palm stay glued to your waist. 

Peeking down, you slowly lifted the shirt up and let your tits quite literally spill out as they jiggled slightly from the release of how fiercely you let the cotton graze over your skin. 

“Jesus christ…” you heard him utter as your palms fluttered down to play with them, squeezing the soft peaks gently before Bruce’s fingers sneaked up to pinch one of your nipples.

Once you’d put on a show and pushed the tiny shorts down your legs, the crotch of which had been slightly soaked since you weren’t wearing any panties underneath, you rested back down on the bed and spread your legs wide for the camera, grinning as the older man asked you to play with yourself. 

“Oh my god… I gotta tell you, I am so hard right now,” you watched how intently he stared at the small monitor, getting a closeup of how your fingers rubbed your little clit, “you have no idea how tough it is not to just fuck you right now, it’s crazy…”

“Oh yeah?” you giggled, the melody of your want echoing throughout the room at every teasing touch you offered yourself, “how bad do you wanna fuck me?”

“So fucking bad…” he uttered in a nearly hypnotise tone. 

Continuing to circle your puffy pearl, your fingers briefly dipped down to tease your entrance, only shyly slipping inside before you swept back up. 

“You know what?” Bruce said as he then began to twist a bit to get the open door to the room into frame, “I have a little surprise for you,” and perfectly on queue, Ari appeared at the threshold, burly chest on show with just a pair of jeans hanging low on his hips. 

His stride was slow as he only stayed in the doorway a moment before sauntering over to where you sat, melted back and resting against the one forearm that propped you up. 

“Hey,” he smiled and plucked up your face as soon as it was within reach. 

“Hi,” you managed to utter just before he bent down and pressed his lips to yours in an unhurried and gentle kiss. 

He kissed you as if he had all the time in the world, like some dude wasn’t pressing a bulky camera closer to the intimate act, but like he was the lead in a PG romcom. 

When Ari withdrew, he let himself linger in your warmth, ever so slightly nuzzling his nose against your own as your fingers kept up the dizzying pattern you drew between your parted thighs. Tilting his head, his touch traced the length of your arm till his reach came down to aid your efforts, making you gasp from the way he caressed you. 

“You,” he nudged his nose gently against your own, “look like you’re in need of some cock in that little mouth of yours.”

Letting out a soft chuckle, you said, “you read my mind,” before popping the button of his jeans and tugging the zipper down. Even though you’d seen his famed cock numerous times on screen before, it truly was something else to witness it in person. A breathy, “holy shit,” left your lips as you tried to wrap your fingers around his girth, though he only let out a soft laugh at the way your eyes grew wide. 

Ceasing the caress he drew between your thighs, he instead grabbed the base of his heavy length with his fingers still glossy from your arousal. As you stuck out your flat tongue, he tapped the weight against you for a second before you tilted your chin and wrapped your lips around the bulbous head.  

As you disappeared into the meditative motion of slobbering all over his cock, gradually taking more and more of his intimidating length, your frame twisted to lay on your side and face him more. 

Blinking up into his hooded eyes as the corners of your lips burned from the severe stretch, you felt his hips begin to move, rolling to meet your every bob, till his fingers tangled in your hair and he got to take over completely, fucking your face till slobber dribbled down your chest and rained down on your crop top, still tugged up and framing your tits. 

His free hand then snaked its way back down your body and cracked your legs open wide for the camera to see as he plugged your pussy up with two of his fingers, making you moan around his girth as the tip of him bruised your throat. 

When he yanked your mouth off of his cock, he did so with a gravelly growl, like he could have lived in your silky warmth and it pained him to say goodbye so soon. 

“Come here,” he grabbed you and flipped you around for your frame to face him as his feet stayed planted on the side of the bed. Kicking his jeans the rest of the way off, you panted up at him as you scooted even closer, nearly letting your butt hang off the mattress’ edge as you laid already crumbled and folded before him, utterly bewitched by the anticipation of what his legendary size must feel like stretching your poor pussy out. 

Shimmery spiderwebs of your nectar clung to him as he then let you feel the weight of him tap against your puffy pearl, briefly skimming through your folds before he found your eyes and tipped down, nudging to catch your weeping entrance. 

“Oh my g-god…” you gasped, all of the air escaping your body to accommodate as he slowly pressed just the tip inside. Your cunt clung around his dick as he gave you a second to catch your breath. Your pulse throbbed in your pussy as your silky walls moulded around him and your thighs gently trembled from the intensity of it all. 

“Fuck,” he groaned as he gave you another inch, “you feel so good,” gently stuffing more of his length inside. 

His grip dented your trembling thighs as he held you open for the camera to see how you struggled to take his cock. Even when the tip of him kissed your cervix and made you feel as if he was all the way up in your fucking throat, when you hazily gazed down to see where he split you apart, there was still a generous inch of him that your little pussy just couldn’t take. 

As your eyes lingered a little longer, you too caught sight of how a dull bulge formed in the lower part of your belly, perfectly timed with each of his mind-numbing thrusts. 

When you then tumbled over the edge, nearly blind from the overwhelming pleasure, your pussy couldn’t help but accidentally gush around Ari’s girth, simply because of how mind-boggling he felt. 

“Oh, shit,” you panted. Still in your orgasmic daze, you swiftly cast a worried glance up at Bruce steady behind the camera, “I’m sorry,” you briefly broke the scene as Ari too paused his movements as you breathlessly spoke, “I really tried not to squirt, I know that wasn’t part of today’s plan, but–, fuck…” your eyes fluttered up to find Ari’s, “your dick’s just so goddamn big,” you hazily giggled. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Bruce’s voice washed over you as you watched a smile tug at Ari’s lips, “that was just an unplanned bonus.”

“Wait, so you’re not mad?” your neck twisted to cast a glance at the director. 

“No,” he swiftly shook his head and flashed you a reassuring smile to calm the obvious anxiety that had bubbled up inside of you. 

“Oh, good,” you let out a sigh, “sorry, I just got nervous for a second. Okay, alright, we can keep going.”

“You good?” Ari checked before he cracked out of his frozen form. 

“Yep, yep, I’m okay, I’m wonderful,” you chuckled and let the last bit of nerves wash away. 

“Alright,” he dipped down to press a soft kiss to your lips, before his hands guided your arms around his neck, slinking them around him. 

His grasp then scooped down under you and he effortlessly plucked you up off the bed, a shy yelp bubbling up from your lungs as he picked your frame up to cradle you in his arms, his massive cock still lodged inside of you, though when he settled you in his strong hold, it felt as if he found a mystical way to slide even deeper. 

Moans flowed from your lips and vibrated against his skin as your neck soon gave up and lent your cheek to smoosh against his fuzzy chest. 

“There you go,” he stood up tall and bounced you in his arms like you were a toy, just a cocksleeve for him to get off with, “there you fucking go…”

As he picked up the pace and truly gave you a taste of how a real pornstar pounded a pussy for the camera, your eyes screwed shut tight and you felt yourself float away on a cloud, curled up in Ari’s burly arms and surrounded in a storm of your collective moans. The existence of the video camera even faded from your reality as you peeled your eyes open and peeked up at Ari from the pillow of his pec, knowing full well that he too could feel how you began to clench around his cock once more. 

“You gonna cum again?” he repeatedly lifted you up and down on his fat girth, “you gonna be a good girl and cream all over my cock, huh?”

Blinking up at him, your brows crinkled in pleasure as you nodded, “uh-huh.”

“You think you can squirt again for me?” his grip dug into the plush of your ass hard enough for it to leave marks. 

“I-I don’t know–”

“Oh, I think you can,” he switched up his pattern, slowing down slightly and dragging you all the way up till his cock nearly slipped out of you, only to sink you back down in such a rough, yet intensely slow manner, that it made your eyes roll in your skull, “just listen to that,” he smirked at the soft sloshing sound that sinfully echoed as his fat girth repeatedly slid against your g-spot, virtually bullying it till you surrendered, “it’s like she’s begging me to just spend the rest of the day making her gush over and over again until you fucking pass out…”

A shrill cry escaped your form as you let go once more, shaking in Ari’s grasp as Bruce knelt down to capture your sinful drizzle.  

You nearly felt drunk, like you were hours into the best party of your life, when you eventually found yourself planted on the floor, quaking legs unsteady beneath you as you blinked up at Ari, looming above you and furiously fucking his fist. 

“You want me to cum all over that pretty little face?” he grunted as you hazily stuck out your tongue. 

“Yes,” the corners of your lips blissfully curled up into a grin, “please–”

Even though your bones had turned into jelly and your pussy clenched in soreness, the drawn-out moan that rumbled in Ari’s chest as hot ropes of his cum then shot out and painted your features sent tingles throughout your body and filled you with a desire to just wrestle him back down onto the mattress, hit rewind and do it all over again. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[nereidprinc3ss]

please don't say you love me

in which fwb!spencer reid and fem!reader get into an argument about the nature of their relationship.

18+ (implied intimacy) warnings/tags: friends with benefits arrangement, it goes bad, reader is so clearly anxious avoidant, reader is so me-coded, self-loathing, difficulties with emotional intimacy, arguing, derek and penelope make an appearance woo, a little dramatic, no happy ending (a nereidprinc3ss first!) a/n: it happened guys I stopped writing for a few days and last night randomly was inspired to finish this fwb piece and it essentially turned into a vent and went a completely different direction than i thought it would but here we are!!! i hope you enjoy, I loved writing, ilysm

“Are you reading it? Did you get to the part yet?” You ask, buzzing as you peer around Spencer’s arm to see where he’s at in the book you’d handed him. Sometimes you think it takes him longer to flip the pages than to read them. 

He doesn’t answer, but you see the flickering quirk of his lip like something is amusing him. It’s been a few minutes and he’s maybe halfway through. He has to have seen it by now. 

You’re clinging to his arm, eyes darting pointlessly between the text and his face, searching for a reaction. It comes in the form of a furrowed brow, a disbelieving smile, and something between a barking laugh and an exclamation of, “what?”

“You read it?”

His eyes narrow and he flips back a page, taking a bit longer to reevaluate. 

“Our moans and grunts drowned out the screams of the dead and dying only a few hundred feet away.”

You giggle furiously, clapping a hand to your mouth when you snort, and you feel Spencer’s focus shifting to you, even with your eyes screwed shut. 

“And you read this whole series?”

At that you sober up some, still hiding the bottom half of your face and brows drawn sorrowfully as mirthful tears well. You’re slow to admit your guilt with a nod, and his expression is somewhere between horror and fascination. 

Your cheeks heat and you cover your face, laughing again and shaking your head shamefully as he ridicules you. 

“Why? Why would you do that to yourself? I don’t even know if I can be seen in public with you, that’s—” he’s haphazardly tossed the book back on its display table and grabbed your wrists, pulling gently and laughing too. “No, show me your face. This is—you need to explain yourself. This is unforgivable.” 

“No! I swear it was a morbid curiosity, I didn’t like it, I’m sorry! I—”

“Reid?”

You both freeze. 

It’s not the most dignified position, admittedly—hidden among the shelves in a bookstore, pressed too close to be friendly, his hands around your wrists. 

So you don’t mind when he drops them like hot potatoes and gives you a few inches of breathing room. 

“Hey! Uh—you’re—”

Spencer is looking between you and two other people at the end of the aisle—a quirky bespectacled blonde in a flouncy polka-dot dress and her taller companion, ripped and head shaved, sporting some impressive eyebrows. Right now they’re conspicuously raised—his eyes are also pinballing between you and Spencer. 

For a moment, everyone is just sort of… looking at each other. 

It’s a little bit… awful?

Finally Spencer clears his throat. 

“Um, what are you guys doing here? Just… looking at books?”

Something is off, and you feel like shrinking or running, but you just stay glued to your spot. 

In sync, they hold up copies of the same book—and it takes you not a second to place the author’s name, in imposing red font at the bottom like it’s important. Rossi. 

The pieces click into place. These must be Spencer’s co-workers—Penelope and Derek, if his descriptions of the team have served you well. Part of you is starstruck. Part of you is embarrassed. They’re clearly shocked to see Spencer with a girl in the wild, so you know he hasn’t told them about you—and why should he, you think, why should he tell his friends about the girl he’s been sleeping with for months now? 

Finally, the blonder half of the duo speaks. 

“You’re—this is a girl. That’s. Who is that? Hi! Who are you?”

She’s literally pointing at you, eyes drifting between you and Spencer like it just doesn’t make any sense. Derek gives her a look and gently pushes her hand down. 

“Hey. That’s enough.” Then he offers you a polite smile, though you sense a bit strained, and his eyes too keep wandering back to the man next to you. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, no! You’re not… interrupting…” Spencer trails off and you sense he’s looking at you and gauging a reaction but you’re just smiling idly at his friends and waiting for this to be over. He finally thinks to introduce you by name, and you offer a shy wave and a smile to your new acquaintances. 

Penelope points (that damn finger again) but this time it’s less accusatory, and stays below chin level. 

“Cool shirt. I love that band,” she offers genially. Your brows raise and you look down, trying to remember what shirt you’d tossed on before leaving Spencer’s apartment an hour ago. 

“Oh! Thanks,” you smile, and you’re relieved to mean it this time. 

Another frosty silence begins to descend, but Derek doesn’t let it settle so much this time, to everyone’s satisfaction. 

“Alright, well. It was nice to meet you. Enjoy your date.”

There’s too much weight on the last sentence, and Derek gives Spencer a eyebrows-raised-meaningfully look you don’t understand. You’re just glad Spencer keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t immediately insist that it’s not a date, because it’s not, and that’s fine, but the vehement denial would bum you out. 

The pair walk away in the kind of clenched silence that means they’ll start fervently whispering as soon as they are out of ear shot. You watch their retreating figures and chew your lip, sensing that the carefree and playful energy of five minutes ago will have evaporated by the time you turn back to face your companion. 

“Strange,” you murmur, mostly to yourself, and you’re slightly jarred when Spencer replies from beside you. 

“Which part?”

All of it. 

Turning to face him, you smile, and it doesn’t reach your eyes but it doesn’t need to. 

“Oh—nothing, sorry.”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, only stares at a point somewhere above your head and narrows his eyes like he’s thinking unpleasant thoughts. 

“Was I an asshole, to you, just now?”

It’s unexpected. You don’t have an answer prepared, so you say something that feels like a lie because you can’t prove that it’s not the truth. 

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“I just… I don’t know. I get weird around them, sometimes. I don’t always know what to say, like, when my personal life and my work life intersect, because for a long time I didn’t really have a personal life. And I think they still think I don’t know how to talk to girls, so…”

“You don’t know how to talk to girls,” you remind him. “Let’s go look at the puzzles.”

Maybe you spend too much time with Spencer Reid. Maybe that’s the problem—too long in his presence and he’s eating away at your neural tissue like you’ve got cysticercosis and he’s the T. solium (a terrible thing he had explained to you a few weeks ago.)

Maybe you need a break from him, to stop breathing his air and sleeping in his bed and wearing his clothing, because you’re forgetting that he’s not the entire world and that is a very bad thing to forget in a situation like yours. The entire world cannot be the size of his apartment. 

But you also just like him so much. As a friend, of course. That goes without saying. You like his strange sense of humor, and the way he lights up when you ask him an obscure question. You like your legs across his lap while you watch his old shows. You also like being kissed by him, and hugged by him. You like being taken care of like no one has ever taken care of you, and you like the way he always touches you, soft and kind and so on purpose. 

You never meant to like him so much. 

This affection—it has grown, insidious and parasitic, and now that it’s been pointed out to you like a lump in your side, it’s impossible to ignore. 

What you and Spencer have works precisely because you’ve kept things platonic and casual. That way, there’s no worrying about emotional baggage or arguing about feelings because there are none to be found and no precedent that any such things should or need to occur. You can’t hurt each other’s feelings if your feelings aren’t on the table. 

So why can’t you stop thinking about earlier?

Why can’t you help caring that he’s been keeping you a secret from the people he loves most?

“So, essentially the book is his first deep dive into meta-fiction. It was pretty revolutionary at the time, and while not his most celebrated novel, I’d argue it was his most relevant and culturally pervasive. I’d actually love to hear your interpretation of the story—it’s truly different for everyone. It’s a little like… like a literary Rorschach test. Do you wanna borrow it?”

You’re a tangle on his bed—arms, legs, sheets—it’s hard to tell where you end and he begins. All you’re sure of is his hand, tracing his fingers in chaste lines, feather-light up and down your inner thigh in the way he knows you like. Usually it’s so soothing you melt and fall asleep within minutes. Right now it’s only stoking some sparking electrical fire in your chest—the buzzes and bursts from which have you on edge. Ready to cave in at any second. You wish you could relax. You’ve been trying.

Spencer is in no hurry for you to respond, and so doesn’t seem to mind when it takes you a long while to find your answer. 

“I think I need to go home.”

It comes out too scratchy, as you haven’t really spoken for several hours. Not as casual as you were going for. He angles his head down toward you and his hand stops and you realize it’s actually worse like that. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah! Everything is fine, I just… I wanna sleep in my own bed tonight, I think.”

It’s late and you shouldn’t be making him drive you across town, but he’s always amenable to what you want. This is the longest you’ve ever stayed at his place, after all—a rare long weekend—and before that a few weeks had passed with no cases to speak of, during which time you’ve been staying with him more and more. Spencer seems to be completely content letting you eat his food and use his shower if it means you don’t leave. 

“I know the feeling well,” he admits, and your heart twinges with the care he takes to not bump or bend you or pull your hair as he shifts. He’s already been out of bed, and so is more dressed than you. Really, most people on the planet are more dressed than you, and you pull his nice sheet higher up your chest as he sits on the edge of the mattress, looking down at you and with a sort of worry in his eyes. He finds your knee through the fabric. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been quiet.”

Stop paying such close attention, you want to tell him. And in the same breath, please don’t ever look away. 

“I’m… good.”

It is easily the least convincing performance of your life. Either you’re self sabotaging or you want him to push you further, and you don’t know which is worse. 

When his brow ramps just the slightest bit, you know you’ve fumbled it. 

“I don’t believe you.”

You shrug. “I don’t need you to.” And then you sit up, still holding the sheet to your chest. “Can you hand me a shirt?”

Enough clothing has accumulated around the room recently that he could pretty much reach out in any direction and find something for you to wear.  He grabs a sweatshirt hanging from the bedpost and holds it out for you, and you pull it over your head, before dropping your feet onto the cool wooden floor and grabbing the first bottoms you see—a pair of floral pajama shorts. How have so many of your clothes ended up at his apartment?

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

You scoop your bag up from a chair and flit around the room, haphazardly stuffing away discarded clothing to take back home. It’s true that it’ll be nice to get back to your stuff—your shower products and your closet and your silk pillow cases. You shouldn’t be spending so much time here. It’s not your space and you’ve been sacrificing your own needs to be closer to him, which is something you’d rather not do for any man. 

“You can drive me home. I’ll send you gas money.”

“You don’t need to send me gas money,” he says, tacking your name on to the end of the sentence in a way that raises your hackles instantly. 

“Yeah, I do. You drive me around constantly. I’ll pay you back and start taking the metro, or something.”

“I don’t want your money,” he scoffs. 

“Fine. Then I’ll call a car.”

“That’s unnecessary. I’m happy to drive you.”

“Why?”

Silence hangs. Spencer has by this point stood up, and he’s watching you with a furrowed brow and slightly parted lips like he doesn’t understand where this animosity has come from. Honestly, you’re not entirely sure either. You didn’t realize you were harboring so much of it. 

“Am I supposed to see you as an inconvenience?”

“I’m not your responsibility.”

“No. You’re not. We have a relationship and I don’t mind doing things for you.”

“You’re not my boyfriend.”

You didn’t mean to say it, but you sure as hell were thinking it. 

It feels good to say, like stretching a sore muscle beyond its limits or pressing into a bruise until you get past the ache. Sometimes when things hurt, it’s best to feel the pain and move on. 

He looks absolutely perplexed, the lines between his brows only ditching deeper. 

“Is that what this is about?”

“Oh my god, Spencer, no, I don’t care—”

“Because earlier at the bookstore I asked you if I was being an asshole and—”

“I do not give a fuck about earlier at the fucking bookstore!”

It’s too late to be yelling, but he doesn’t scold you. He just sort of looks at you, like you’re something mildly unpleasant. It makes you feel worse. 

A long moment goes by. 

“Fine. I’ll take you home.”

You let him brush past you, nothing more than a breeze on your shoulders as he disappears from the darkened bedroom. For a moment, you can’t follow him. All you can do is stand there and try to contain that sour, stinging, crying feeling in your eyes and nose because there’s no reason for you to be crying right now. 

From the living room, he calls, rather abrasively, “Are you coming?”

“Yes,” you huff, and it is as wavering as it is insolent, so obviously the only word holding back a full-fledged deluge of tears. 

One minute. One minute to sniffle and take deep breaths and wipe abashedly under your eyes because you refuse to be dramatic about this. Refuse to get over-emotional. You will not let it matter this much to you. 

When you decide you can show your face without making a scene, you march out of his bedroom and straight past where he’s leaning against the kitchen counter, keys in hand, to the front door. 

He doesn’t move. You burn smoking holes into the dark wood of the door with your eyes, and the two of you are apparently at an impasse. 

“I’m ready,” you eventually snap, always the impatient one between the two of you, casting a sharp glance over your shoulder. 

“I’m not.”

“You said you would—”

“I know what I said,” Spencer cuts you off and shuts you up, “and I changed my mind. I’d prefer to talk about it before I take you home.”

By the time he finishes the sentence you’re already wrestling your phone from the depths of your bag in search of a ride sharing app. 

“Okay, well I’m done talking because I don’t think there’s anything to talk about, so—”

“No, you’re done talking because this is what you do. You can never admit it when you want something because that would mean acknowledging that you’re a human being with emotions, and that’s too scary for you.”

Surely you misheard him. You turn around, a deep frown contorting your features. 

“Excuse me?”

He only looks at you in that expectant, knowing way of his. 

“It’s too scary so you run away. You’d rather burn your relationships to the ground and rebuild them with a new person every time than actually let someone in.”

“You don’t know me!” You yell.

“Do you actually think that’s true?” Spencer says, pushing off his perch against the counter, voice shrilling and raised slightly as he gets visibly agitated. “You think I’ve spent hours upon hours with you and I don’t know you at all?”

“You have no idea what I’m like in a relationship because this isn’t one. You have no fucking idea what I want, so do not presume to,” you seethe. 

“You want a relationship. You wanted my friends to know you and you didn’t tell me that because you’re fucking terrified of the fact that I do know you. You can’t stand the idea that regardless of how many times you tell yourself it’s just sex, you have been vulnerable with me, and you’ve told me things you’ve never told anyone before, like why your last three relationships really ended, and how you constantly self-sabotage when you’re on the verge of getting what you want because you think you don’t deserve it.”

“Shut up!”

“No. I’m not just going to let you walk away from me like you did everyone else who could’ve ever cared about you because I know once you walk out that door you’ll stop responding to my calls and texts and I’ll never see you again, which is a juvenile pattern and completely unsustainable if you don’t want to keep pushing people away for the rest of your life!”

“God, Spencer, stop!” You sob, staggering back like you’ve been stabbed. 

The urgency, the raw, desperate scratch of your voice, stops him in his tracks. 

Every place an arrow penetrated a chink in your armor aches, and it hurts so much worse because he knew exactly where they were. You don’t know when or how it happened, but he’s right. Despite your most valiant efforts, Spencer Reid knows you. Somehow he crept in and grew over every limb like ivy. It’s crawled over your feet and up your legs and it’s keeping you there, rooted in place in his apartment, sobbing silently into the crook of your arm because you feel utterly paralyzed with fear. 

Just as he’d said. 

It’s silent for a long stretch of time, unquantifiable the same way the distance between the beach and the horizon is unquantifiable. It’s sprawling and infinite and desolate. The only relief from the drowning quiet is the occasional gulp of air or gasp from you which furthers your humiliation. 

“I’m sorry,” Spencer finally whispers, soft and unsure like rays of weak sunlight over staggered tides, in the grey morning after a raging storm. It’s an attempt. It’s earnest and afraid. 

The energy radiating off of him is so tangible that you can sense his desire to come near. To hold you. But that would be your worst nightmare come to fruition. This—this warbling and crying in front of him in silence in his dark apartment is god-awful enough. But to be comforted? For him to bear witness up close and personal to your humility and your ugly, jagged pieces—that inspires true catatonia. That is everything he said you were afraid of, and he was right. 

You resent your human nature, and the fact that you care how his friends look at you and that it stung when they did so with little more than apathy. You hate that you care that he hasn’t told them about you. You hate that you feel so unimportant—because more than anything, you want to be fine with being unimportant. 

You want to be fine. Constantly. 

You hate that you feel. You hate that you care. 

But you always have. And so fucking deeply. 

Somehow, Spencer Reid is the only one who has ever noticed. 

Eventually, his self-restraint snaps and he surges forward at the same time as you take a shuddering inhale and step back. 

“Please don’t touch me,” you whisper. Afraid that if he did, his fingers would only sink into your flesh like decaying fruit. That you would disintegrate in his hands, and he’d finally see you’d been rotten the whole time. 

He speaks softly, holding his hands up to show you he’s not a threat. 

“Okay. I won’t. I’m sorry.”

“I need to go home.”

“I’ll—”

“No. I don’t want a ride. I’ll get a car.” You speak quietly. Efficiently. There’s no point in pretending this doesn’t feel catastrophic anymore. 

His brows furrow. Like a moth to flame, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, he draws nearer again. 

“I’m not comfortable with you on the street at this hour.”

“I’ll wait in the lobby,” you insist, pleading, a wounded animal, because he doesn’t seem to understand how every casual notion of kindness is a violence, how he’s ripping into you and making it so you’ll never be able to put yourself back together. He can’t be kind like you’re easy to be kind to. 

If you’re easy to be kind to, you are just as easy to hurt. Accepting that kindness is a sort of vulnerability you feel you can’t afford right now. 

Another moment of silence, of stillness, as if you’re both bolted to the ground where you stand. 

When he speaks it’s a blow to the chest because you’ve made him cry too. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, quietly, and a venomous self-hatred drips down your throat. Because you’re doing it again.

Maybe this is all you will ever be. 

You fail to stifle a sob and Spencer steps closer still, saying your name desperately and so quietly like it’s his last rite. 

And you try. You try harder than you ever have to stay in one place, to get a hold of your vibrating and to swallow all those slithery feelings and ignore every alarm telling you to panic when he reaches out to touch your arm because it’s never safe to let people in. But when his hand finally brushes you, it’s like a cow prod. You jolt backward. 

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” you whisper all in one harrowed breath, and there’s so much you’d like to say—you’re right, about everything, you do know me, you know what I want, I tried, I’m ashamed—but none of it matters. None of it is enough. He’s backed you into a corner of your own making, and the only way out is by pushing him aside even if it hurts you both. 

So you don’t say anything else. You leave him there, in the dark of his own apartment, and you disappear down the hall. 

Maybe this is all you will ever be.

[hoe4hotchner]

Can you write a story where the reader, a BAU member, is on maternity leave after she and Aaron just had a baby? One day, she goes to the office to bring their daughter to visit Aaron, only to find him in the bullpen with the agent who replaced her while she’s been on leave. The replacement has a crush on Aaron and doesn’t know that he’s married to the reader. The replacement becomes jealous when she sees how much attention Aaron is giving their daughter and confronts the reader, but Aaron gets angry and ends up firing her."

Family first | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader | WC: 1.1k | CW: Fluff, mom!reader, they have a daugther, bitch of a replacement coworker who doesn't know her place.

As you stepped into the all too familiar bullpen you were met with the usual sound of phones ringing, keyboards clicking, and the occasional laughter bubbling up from conversations between team members. You hadn’t stepped foot in the office in months — your maternity leave had been an endless storm of sleepless nights, diaper changes, and indescribable moments of joy. Now, cradling your six-month-old daughter in your arms, you stood at the threshold of the office, taking it all in — realizing how little you'd missed working, as long as you got to spend your time with your daughter.

“Ready to surprise Daddy?” you cooed to your baby, brushing a soft kiss against her fluffy head. She giggled in response, her little hand grasping at your necklace — the one Aaron had gotten you with a charm of your daughter's initial. Her chubby fingers wrapped around the charm, and you couldn’t help but smile at her curiosity.

Heads turned as you had entered, and a wave of warmth spread through you as familiar voices from your friends greeted you.

“Y/N!” Garcia’s exclamation came first as she flew across the bullpen, pulling away from her conversation with Morgan, her colorful dress trailing behind her. “Oh my gosh, let me see that precious little angel!”

You laughed, carefully handing over your daughter as Garcia immediately began cooing at her. Emily, Morgan, and JJ soon gathered around, their faces lighting up at the sight of the baby.

“Look at those cheeks,” Morgan said, his voice soft as he tickled her tiny hand. “Hotch better have her signed up for karate classes already. Gotta keep the boys away.”

“Or girls,” Emily added. “She’s going to be a heartbreaker either way.”

You beamed at their affection, the team’s love for your little family filling your heart. “Where is Aaron?” you asked, glancing toward his office. The blinds were drawn, but you knew he wasn’t inside.

JJ nodded toward the conference room. “He’s in there, showing something to Agent Morrison.”

Your smile faltered slightly at the mention of Morrison, the agent who had been brought in temporarily to cover your leave. You hadn’t met her yet, but you’d heard through the grapevine that she was ambitious, skilled, and confident — maybe a little too confident.

You spotted Aaron through the windows, his back turned as he reviewed what you assumed were some case files with Morrison. He looked relaxed yet tired, his tie slightly loosened, though his usual air of authority remained in place. Morrison stood close to him — a little too close — her laughter ringing out at something he said.

Your lips pressed into a thin line, but you pushed the feeling aside. Aaron was your husband, your partner, and the father of the baby currently making grabby hands at Morgan’s face. You had no reason to feel insecure.

Morgan handed your daughter back to you as you went to greet your husband.

And still, as you approached, you couldn’t help but notice the way Morrison’s body language leaned toward him, her hand brushing his forearm as she laughed again. Aaron didn’t seem to notice — or if he did, he wasn’t encouraging it.

When you reached the conference room, Aaron glanced up, and the moment his eyes met yours, his entire demeanor softened.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice filled with warmth and surprise. His gaze immediately dropped to the baby in your arms, and he stood quickly, coming around the desk to envelop you both in a hug.

“You should’ve told me you were coming,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple before gently brushing a finger across your daughter’s cheek. She squealed in delight, reaching out for him, and he took her into his arms with ease.

“It wouldn’t have been a surprise if I told you,” you replied, grinning as you watched him cradle her. “I figured you could use a break.”

Aaron’s smile widened, and he kissed the baby’s forehead before turning back to you. “I always have time for my girls.”

Morrison’s voice cut into the moment, a hint of confusion lacing her words. “Wait, your girls?”

You turned to her, offering a polite smile. “Hi, I’m Y/N. Aaron’s wife.”

Her eyes widened, darting between you, Aaron, and the baby. “Wife?” she repeated, her tone almost incredulous.

Aaron’s arm settled protectively around your waist as he nodded. “Yes, my wife. Y/N used to work here before going on maternity leave.”

Morrison’s expression shifted, her initial surprise giving way to something more guarded. “Oh. I… I didn’t realize.”

“Well, now you do,” Aaron said firmly, his tone polite but edged with finality, hoping that your visit would make Morrison drop her antics.

The tension in Morrison’s posture was clear as day, but she pasted on a smile. “She’s adorable,” she said, nodding toward the baby. “You’re very lucky.”

Aaron’s grip on you tightened slightly. “I know I am.”

The interaction seemed to conclude there, and Morrison excused herself, claiming she had paperwork to finish. But as the day went on, it became clear that the encounter had unsettled her. You noticed her watching you from across the room, her eyes narrowing whenever Aaron’s attention lingered on you or the baby.

Finally, as you were gathering your things to leave, Morrison approached you near the elevator. Her smile was tight, her tone clipped.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” she asked, glancing around to ensure no one else was within earshot.

You raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

Her polite facade dropped almost instantly. “You don’t have to flaunt your relationship in front of everyone,” she said sharply. “It’s unprofessional.”

Your jaw tightened, but you kept your voice calm. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

She scoffed. “You know exactly what I mean. Walking in here with your baby like you own the place, acting like Hotch is your personal property… It’s distracting and completely inappropriate.”

You blinked, stunned by the audacity. Before you could respond, a familiar voice cut through the tension.

“Agent Morrison.”

Aaron’s tone was ice-cold, and you turned to see him standing a few feet away, his expression thunderous. “A word, please. Now.”

Morrison’s face paled as she stammered, “I… I didn’t mean…”

“My office. Now.”

You watched as Aaron led her away, his posture stiff with fury. The bullpen had fallen silent, and you could feel the eyes of your colleagues on you, but you held your head high, refusing to let Morrison’s pettiness rattle you.

Minutes later, Aaron returned, his expression softer but still serious. He placed a hand on your arm, guiding you toward the elevator. “Let’s go home,” he said quietly.

As the elevator doors closed, you glanced up at him. “What happened?”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Morrison won’t be returning. Her behavior was unacceptable, and I made it clear that we won’t tolerate that kind of attitude here.”

You nodded, your heart swelling with gratitude and love for the man beside you. “Thank you.”

Aaron’s eyes softened as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “No one disrespects my family,” he said firmly. “No one.”

[emmaofnormandy]

Imagine Aegon is the father of your children.

Warnings: fluff all the way; canon divergence; long post.

( @dracaryxzs for you! One hopes you might like seeing Aegon happy here)

***

• How it all began…

You are his twin, his other half… What one feels the other feels it too. Naturally, as a result, bond came. Courtiers like to say how “wherever the Lord Aegon goes, Lady Y/N is after him like a loyal puppet.”

What they don’t understand is that you and him are two sides of the same coin, blood of dragon, despite the prince calling you his sun, to which he himself gravitates.

“I cannot not believe you are never bored whenever we are together”, says Aegon.

You both are blossoming into youth. You are the only one he trusts, the one he is naturally charmed to. But something about his age doesn’t let him admit there are feelings too.

“I am unlike any other”, you tell him in turn, a smile on your rosy lips. “We came together to this world, Aegon.”

He gives you a shy smile, lowering his gaze—you tamed him, like, it is said, your grandmother had tamed her husband, your grandsire, when they were both the same age.

Lively and so full of life, not even Aegon can deny you anything.

“Let us ride, shall we?”

And not waiting for a response, he takes you by the hand and in between giggles and chuckles the two of you go after your respective dragons.

Sunfyre has been enamored by Dreamfyre and as a result the female dragon has put some eggs. As soon as you are told this, you tell the object of your affections that:

“See, Egg? Evident signs that we are bonded right here”, and you show him the different coloured eggs.

Aegon smiles at you. How can you make him forget the scars of his troubled soul? How can you even sweep away grey clouds, making it seem that it is possible to find happiness?

When looking at your serenity, at how beaming you are before the eggs you cling yourself to, the prince sees himself in you.

You are the light of my world, Y/N.

As if you feel the tenderness his thought emanates, you turn your head at him and give him an egg.

“We are grandparents now, I’m afraid.”

That makes him cackle. A sound so rejoicing, full of life. Few could tell to have ever heard Lord Aegon laugh merrily.

“Too young for that. Come, Y/N!” And then turning to Sunfyre, Aegon is the image of a boy who finds love and happiness where at home such were taken from him.

You smile warmly when seeing the golden dragon almost smiling itself the moment he welcomes his rider.

A bond as strong as the one I have with my beloved.

Then you are distracted by nearly losing balance when Dreamfyre comes at you, resting her head against your face.

“Calm down, girl. I am not as heavy as you are”, you giggle, gently laying your head over the scales of your dragon, whom you claimed when you were ten years old. “Ready to fly high? To some adventures, eh?”

A sound comes from your dragon’s throat. It’s almost as if she speaks excitedly: “Aye, let us go! I’m ready for it!”, which only increases your good mood.

Now here you two are, flying synchronized, one being the extension of the other. Skies may have some clouds, but sun shines high with some warm breeze that announces summer.

“I suggest we could fly atop Dragonstone”, you tell Aegon over your shoulder. “There’s a spot no one goes there.”

“Rhaenyra is settled there with her children”, says Aegon with an unread expression.

You shrug your shoulders.

“So what? I’ve been there frequently and not once she scoffed me off. I doubt she ever knew I flew to this spot.”

And you flash him a mischievous smirk.

Aegon laughs in turn, realizing he’s unable to deny you anything. Flying as high as he could, there’s little need to tell Sunfyre where to go. As if the creature captured the rider’s thoughts, he flies exactly to where he wants… as does Dreamfyre.

It is almost as if both dragons suspect something may come up… even if you and Aegon don’t know that yet.

*

There is a lake in the midst of vast forests, where silence reigns and there is no sign of any living being. A few hills here and there separate the spot of the rest of Dragonstone.

“How did you come here?”, Aegon inquires you, intrigued by this unusual place. Hardly a man acostumed to wild life, his eyes scan these new surroundings with a mix of suspect and curiosity.

You are untying your hair and loosening your gown—you often ride Dreamfyre in your feast gowns, much to the Queen’s dismay— when you say:

“I don’t think I fit very well at court. I tend to flee whenever I can.”

Aegon is somewhat distracted by your curves, and how poorly hidden your curves are beneath the fabric you dress. He swallows hard, then says:

“We are betrothed. One day you’ll be queen.”

You flash him another of your typical mischievous smirks.

“When have I never performed my duties, brother?”

Aegon shakes his head, but he’s chuckling when he comes next to you.

“Well?”, you tilt your head and the prince seems to notice how handsome you look, wild and free—the way you are born to be. “Aren’t you going to swim with me?”

“Is that a challenge?”, he asks you in a whisper.

You like how he looks at you. Maybe this makes your nipples hard. And maybe this makes him burning inside.

“Perhaps.”

And without waiting for a response, you jump in. Aegon smirks, soon following you.

***

• Summer Children.

His kiss is indescribable. No words can do justice to the warmth his breath gives you, to the bliss it inspires you, to the affection it craves in you. Oh, where are the words when we need most?

Whispers at court regard you and Aegon as the “Baelon and Alyssa” of your age, perhaps two souls reincarnated. Whatever the truth, all you can think about is the taste of his lips against yours.

Not only that, there is more to inspire. As you are riding Dreamfyre in the absence of your lover—he’s been summoned by your father to attend the council—, summer breeze cannot cool down the heat in your heart. And you still recall that night.

Where no living being is found amidst corridors, when, for a moment of weakness, no guard lies awake; when unprotecting is at stake… Here he comes, visiting you.

Boldly so, his steps are silent—right under his demeanor there is a haunted boy, famine for affection, filled with desire to please… but above all, a very insecure man who needs to play pretend before all.

Even though you are not like any other, being in fact the only one who’s witnessed his fragility, he remains blunt in his manners.

Yet when the door opens… and you stand there in your line nightgown with your hair loose, his confidence dies.

“I feared you’d not come”, but there is nothing blunt or arrogant in how you welcome him; but rather tenderness from the moment he’s engulfed in your arms. “I missed you, Aegon. Too much I long for you.”

“My dear Y/Nickname…”, he buries his head against your neck and from the moment he inhales your scent, no pride is strong enough to resist the obvious. “In vain have I struggled to repress my sentiments for you.”

Hearing these words give you the reassurance you’ve been longing.

“Oh you took long enough, didn’t you? I’ve been kept in waiting, but it was worth it.”

One kiss and you are doomed. Aegon waits no longer, not anymore. He takes hold of your face and presses his lips against yours, biting your bottom lip and slamming the door as he leads the way.

“You must promise, though”, you push him away gently, much to his frustration. But you need to be sure… just in case.

“Anything”, his voice comes out in a plea.

You raise your eyebrows and Aegon, though sensing what might be asked of, is willing to pay the price. He is not letting go of you.

“No more whoring. I am no woman of sharing”, you tell him seriously.

Aegon smiles warmly, but you spot relief behind his eyes. He grabs you by the waist and says:

“I am yours and yours alone, Y/N. We came out to this world together, didn’t we? So we are dying together as well.”

“That is some drama you put in there, love”, you smirk before clashing your lips against his.

That night you came to learn you loved riding your dragon and we are not talking about Dreamfyre.

*

Nine moons later, the results of you and Aegon’s indiscretion comes to the world with a very strong pair of lungs.

“Here comes a very strong prince”, so announces the midwife.

You are exhausted after almost 12 hours in labour, a puddle of sweat and blood, but from the moment you are told you delivered a boy, you beamed proudly:

“I performed my duty well.”

Aegon, in the meantime, is left waiting outside, pacing impatiently in the corridors.

“One wonders what witchcraft has Y/N used to keep you in this state”, muses Aemond in his unusual show of sense of humor.

The prince of Dragonstone doesn’t bother answering Aemond, rather limiting to shooting a glare. It’s when Princess Helaena comes with a smile on her lips.

“My brothers.”

“We salute you well, sister. But pray tell us the news soon: is Y/N well? How’s the child?”

“She is doing great, Aegon. She’s recovering and getting some rest. As for the child… congratulations! You have a healthy baby boy!”

Aegon is paled by the news and even Aemond gets somewhat concerned with his older brother, holding him by his elbows.

“Are you well?”

“A boy”, he mumbles. “Y/N gave us a boy.”

“Our line is safe”, Aemond agrees. Then turning at Helaena, he asks: “Has the name been chosen?”

“Well, Y/N wants a traditional name… so she decided to have the boy named after you, Aegon.”

No one had ever seen the prince Aegon this overjoyed. The way he smiles… who wouldn’t be captivated by this sight? Even Aemond smiles too at this sight. Of all the misadjusted family, at least two of them found happiness… though when Helaena looks at him, he’s not too far from it himself.

“I must see her!”

Ignoring Helaena’s advice that no man is allowed in these chambers, Aegon, tradition-breaker, storms inside, demanding to see you.

You have just left your privy quarters dressed in a line nightgown with your hair wet and recently brushed when he comes at you.

“Husband!”, you giggle quietly when you are engulfed by his strong arms. “You should wait for me. I am not churched yet and we must…”

“Fuck traditions. I wanted to see my wife”, says he, peppering your face with tender kisses before looking at you with the devotion of a lover. “Are you well?”

You cast him the most infatuated glance to him, locking your hands around his neck as if there were no witnesses in the room.

“I am, thank you. Nothing that I could not handle myself”, you assure him. “Aegon, I performed my duties. I gave you a son.”

“Even if it wasn’t, as long as the child is healthy and you are healthy too, nothing else matters”, he whispers in your ear.

The prince cannot state enough his relief in seeing you well and safe. By how he holds you close, it is as if he needs another reassurance that childbirth will not steal you of him.

Feeling his fears, you raise your chin and give him that blunt gaze that marks your lively personality which he’s familiar with.

“I have no intention in leaving you alone in this world, unless you choose another to be in my place.”

Aegon gives you a meaningful look before snorting and scoffing at the same time.

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N! How could you possibly consider I’d find a substitute for you? I thought you knew me better, woman.”

You both share a quiet laugh before kissing as if to seal an unspoken vow. Not too far from the scene is the Queen, with her father by her side.

“Who’d know this was coming?”, she sighs, content with the merry scene that rolls before her gaze. “I may have been deprived of happiness myself, but on the other hand… thankfully such a burden is not placed on the shoulders of mine own offspring.”

“Do not be so dramatic, Alicent. This match is as fruitful as yours was”, says Otto, nonchalantly like usual. “But at times even I admit that I can see Baelor and Alyssa once more.”

A struggle he keeps to himself, since Otto and Baelor never saw eye to eye. Leaving such personal haunting aside, eventually this summer prince also named Aegon is seen placed in the arms of his mother.

“He’s a lovely child”, murmurs Aegon, whose head is now resting over your shoulder. “I cannot stop looking away of his delicate features.”

“Perhaps you should hold him”, you suggest in a whisper since the regal baby is asleep in your arms.

“I do not wish to wake him up”, says your husband, though you may detect a degree of panic in his voice.

You find his concern adorable, respecting his time. This afternoon, you and him watch over your newly born soon in great delight of how your love produced a handsome baby.

“Our summer prince”, you beam at him.

Aegon shares a smile with you. He looks thrilled before kissing your forehead.

“I cannot believe I am his father.”

“A doting father as I’m sure you will be.”

At times he doubts it, but this is a shadow he is unwilling to cast in such a bright moment. All Aegon can say is:

“Thank you for believing in me.”

He does blush though when you kiss his cheek and tell him in turn:

“How could it be otherwise? As my other half, you shall burn as bright as any dragon, my sun and stars.”

***

Little Egg, as he is called, is getting every attention Aegon’s father never bother doting his son. Whilst you are breast feeding, just nine months later his birth, a baby girl whom you named Alysanne after your favourite ancestor, father and son are found together at the nunnery.

“Your mother told me she plans to take you and Dear Alys to fly our dragon. I am not discouraging her, but we should best wait for a litttle bit, uh?”, says the protective father whilst rocking his lively and often chuckling boy in his arms. “Oh so you think this is funny? Are you planning to take after your great-grandparents?”

Aegon is holding him still, playing with the boy when the moment is interrupted by a maid.

“Excuse me, sire. His lordship must be fed. And your lady wife has summoned you.”

“Very well”, he stands, with the prince in his arms. “Before I handle you my precious jewel, Lady H/N, I must be certain you have been fed well. After all, you are responsible for feeding my child.”

“Indeed, lord. I am healthy and robust from the day I started the service”, the woman says seriously.

“Good. I appreciate it”, he nods before kissing his son’s temple. When seeing he’s about to weep, Aegon softens: “Do not cry, my prince. This is not a farewell. I shall go back later, I assure you.”

Reluctantly, he parts, though he does wish to go back when hearing a cry. Aegon pauses at the door but when looking back, Lady H/N has taken little Egg inside the quarters.

*

“How is mine faire ladies?”, the soon to be king asks you the moment he steps inside.

“Looking better than you”, you giggle quietly. “What happened, love?”

“I had to leave him with those women”, Aegon grumbles.

“I know. I don’t like leaving him there either, but thanks to you I can only feed one child now”, you laugh quietly.

Alysanne, whose hair is as silver as her parents’s, makes noises and Aegon, now more confident in how handling babies, carefully holds her.

“If I remember well, you were climbing on me when I was trying to sleep just the day you were churched”, Aegon chuckles.

“You keep saying that to yourself”, you lean to kiss his cheek. “You have been blessed with a handsomeness that makes me difficult not to merrily engage in marital affairs.”

Again, your bluntness makes him blush, a deed only you could brag in succeed doing so. Aegon gives you a long, meaningful look.

“Watch your tongue, woman. You don’t know what you are saying.”

But his mischievous smirk tells you precisely otherwise. The connection you two share has never grown stronger…

***

• Midnight Sun.

Little Egg is barely three when Aegon takes him for a ride in Sunfyre and you take two year old Alysanne with you as you mount Dreamfyre. It’s late night and since this family is restless, there’s no obligation to stop them in doing so—as if any would do in other period of the day.

“Fly high, Dreamfyre”, you whisper the command in High Valyrian and the dragon doesn’t need much before taking impulse and… weeeee, you and your excited child finally get to the skies.

“Let us do this, S.”, Aegon tells his beautiful golden dragon, resting his face against the creature’s forehead. “Look, this is the son I told you about. He gets my name, and Gods hope that he takes after my best traits. Not that I have many, but…”

Sunfyre buffs as if saying: oh please, you may not be perfect, but you have great qualities! To which Aegon blushes and smiles.

“You are a great friend, Sunfyre.”

“Daddy”, says Little Egg. “Fly!”

“Calm down young man. Are you in a rush?”, Aegon chuckles at his demanding son.

“Mommy… flew.”

“Oh. She’s always in a rush that woman you call your mother. Let’s do it then.”

And soon Aegon’s smile would spread larger if possible as Sunfyre finally spreads his large wings and begins to fly, the reason why Little Egg is happy.

When they are finally getting higher, Aegon makes sure his son is enjoying it. He wants to create this memorable moment that shall reinforce the bond father and son has.

It’s working since little Egg turns his head to his father and says:

“Amazing!”

“Are you enjoying that, my boy?”

“Yes! More, more! Please!”

Aegon laughs happily and does as requested. They fly as high as possible before diving below to meet you and Alysanne. The scene makes the prince emotional. His wife is looking as beautiful as wild as the day he realized he loved you to an unbearable point.

Sensing his gaze, you turn your head to meet him. And feeling your feelings, Dreamfyre is instantly drawn to Sunfyre.

“How’s it going?”, you ask him, eyes sparkling with delight for making it possible an old dream where you and Aegon, together with children of your own, would fly with your respective dragons.

“Just the way you wanted”, so Aegon tells you as if he’s read your mind.

You and him exchanged loving gazes and sweet smiles, letting the dragons taking the reins of the situation.

Indeed, as your children beam, Dreamfyre and Sunfyre dance.

Such is the dance of the dragons.

**

The toddlers are snoring by the time you and Aegon land.

“They should sleep with us in bed this night”, he suggests you, as he passes an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him, placing a kiss on top of your forehead.

“I agree”, and then you instantly pause before the door of the red keep. “Aegon… I would like to thank you.”

“What for?”, he asks you, intrigued.

“For giving me these lovely children, for being the partner I’ve always known you’d be. For being my other half.” You smile softly. “I’d die for you, I hope you know that. You deserve to be loved, to all that you are given.”

“Y/N…”, he’s surprised to hearing these words of you, even though Aegon never needed proof of how you felt for him.

You stroke his face, wiping away his tears. Both of you know that you only have each other, and yet it’s enough. Specially now you have children of your own.

Resting his forehead against yours, the prince closes his eyes and kisses you.

“Whatever our souls are made of…”

“…mine and yours are the same.”

***

• Epilogue.

Alysanne is fast asleep when she dreams of dragons. Dragons that fight, dragons that die, dragons that survive. In the midst of chaos, she runs after her father.

Where is he? She calls out his name only to find another who is not in his throne. She wakes up thus, unable to remember the usurper’s identity, a mere shadow. But it’s enough to scare the seven year old princess.

She leaves her privy chambers. It’s still dark, but she needs to be sure he’s there somehow. Alysanne runs barefoot to her parents’ chambers. She opens its door, holding her breath but praising the Gods there’s some fire in the fireplace.

She sees you’re sleeping next to your father, but when seeing he’s there…. what a relief. Yet, the princess is scared to go back to her chambers.

“Papa”, she pokes him. “Papa, wake up.”

Aegon groans lightly, but when seeing it’s his oldest daughter calling him, he only rubs his eyes and makes sure to sit properly, careful in not waking you up.

“Lys”, he calls her affectionately and is probably thankful for wearing some proper garments after early copulating with you. “What’s wrong?”

Alysanne quickly throws her arms around his neck.

“I am scared. I don’t want to lose you”, she sniffs.

Aegon rocks her in his arms, smiling quietly for doing so.

“You’re not losing me. Who told you this nonsense? Has Little Egg been teasing you again?”

“No. He’s been good, actually”, she tells him, holding tightly against his neck. “I had a nightmare.”

For some reason, this gives him shivers. But Aegon isn’t inclined to dig into this deeper.

“A nightmare is just a nightmare. Come. Do you want to sleep with mama and papa today?”

Alysanne smiles brightly. She then kisses his cheek just as you are waking up.

“What happened?”, you ask, worried. “Are you well, my dear Alys?”

“She had a nightmare”, Aegon tells you as if this doesn’t mean anything, but one exchange of glances tells you this isn’t anything. Yet neither should feed it. And you agree. “So I’m letting her sleep with us tonight.”

You nod discreetly before kissing your daughter’s forehead.

“Of course. Like the good old days uh?”

And you watch as Alysanne makes herself comfortable in between you and your husband. Aegon strokes her hair as you cover her.

“Do you think…?” Aegon leaves the question in the air.

“Let us leave to concern about it tomorrow. It’s late.”

Aegon agrees. But neither looks forward to go back to sleep. As he casts a fond gaze at the princess, you take his hand and give it a small squeeze.

“It’s going to be all right. Helaena is doing well with it.”

“I know. But…”

“And at the same time she’s not like Helaena”, you tell him. “Let us not confuse things. It’s going to be well.”

“I just worry. I do not wish…”

Aegon looks away, remembering the wounds of his neglect childhood. There’s little need to explain since you can feel what he feels.

“Aegon, my love. We are not like them”, you tell him firmly. As he looks at you, you stroke his hair and place a lock of his messy hair behind his ear. “We are not like our parents. We are better than them. I’d not say so if I believed otherwise. Just look at how Egg seeks to impress you, how Alysanne came after you tonight… or how our twins Jaehaerys and Jaehaera often run after you.”

Aegon smiles quietly.

“How can you convince me that easily?”

“It’s the truth I speak. Besides… I have to tell you something”, and here you whisper. “I conceived again.”

“Oh how fertile we are!”, Aegon chuckles merrily.

You both kiss, before settling to lay down, careful now with your daughter fast asleep in between you. Shadows for once are pushed and in late night midnight sun comes to shine bright.

Oh these delights…

[ashtavula]

The First Kiss:

featuring the housewardens

Riddle:

-He's so nervous, his throat bobbing as he swallows, breath coming out shaky and warm against your face as he draws closer. His heart is hammering in his chest, and he swears that it stops the moment his lips actually meet yours. That anxiety then melts away, replaced by the feeling of pure adoration. His kiss is heartachingly tender as he silently shows you just how much you mean to him.

Leona:

-He's so confident in the way that he drags you in for a kiss, but it's just a mask for the fear that whispers in the back of his mind. The fear that you won't want to settle for the second born, for the second best. Still, his mouth meets yours, in a way that's almost too rough for what's supposed to be a first kiss. And yet, his hands caress your waist so tenderly, even as his mouth lays claim to yours.

Azul:

-His hands shake where they rest on your shoulders, and his lips press against yours so softly that you almost don't feel them. It's up to you to take charge, to kiss him properly. And when you do, a slight whine leaves his throat, and tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He's a little overwhelmed, but only in the best of ways. And when you pull away, you'll get to see just how flustered a single kiss makes him.

Kalim:

-The first kiss you share with him is joyous, overflowing with affection. His lips meet yours once, twice, three times, giggles erupting in the pauses in between. His hands are restless, roving across your spine, cupping the back of your neck, always tugging you closer. His cheeks are flushed, his mouth quirked up into a dazzling grin as he sighs out words of adoration.

Vil:

-He sighs when you share your first kiss, his lips meeting yours tenderly. His fingers bury themselves in your hair, and he keeps you right where he wants you as he indulges in a languid kiss. As he pulls away, he can't help but give you a soft smile as he notices the way his lipstick is now smeared across your mouth. He leans in, and gives you another soft kiss. He knows he'll have to clean you up, but a small part of him loves seeing his mark on your skin.

Idia:

-His hair flares up a bright pink as his lips crash against yours, a strangled sound reverberating in his throat. It's messy, and not entirely planned. And almost as soon as it begins, it's over. He retreats, covering his face. He's embarrassed, and yet, he can't help but feel like he's on the top of the world. Pry his hands away from his face, kiss him again, and watch him utterly melt under the strength of your affection.

Malleus:

-That first kiss is passionate, with the way he pulls you close to him, and cups your cheeks before laying claim to your lips. His kiss is slow, and overflowing with barely tamed passion. When he pulls away, it's with a breathless chuckle. His thumb runs over your bottom lip, and he leans in to nuzzle his nose against yours as he quietly asks for a second kiss. This time, it'll be your turn to show him just how much you adore him.

[meowkn]

“Don’t let the pieces fall on the carpet.” Jason mutters. He’s leaning back against the couch, with you sitting between his legs on the floor. His arms wrapped around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder as you work on the new Lego set he bought the two of you.

“I’m not.” You huff, trying to focus as you worked on putting two pieces together. “Mind your business.” You add, though there was no real bite in your tone. Jason snorts, giving your shoulder a playful bite in response to your huff. “You know I always want to be all up in your business.” He teases, his arm tightening around your waist. He presses a light kiss to your neck. “I’m just making sure you don’t let any pieces go to waste.” He says against your skin.

“We need all these pieces or the car won’t be right, goofball.” He rolls his eyes, but it’s almost affectionate. “Yeah, yeah. Can’t have my girl putting together a half-assed Lego car.”

Jason watches over your shoulder as you focus on building, choosing to ignore his sentence. His hands rest on your hips, mindlessly kneading the soft flesh underneath your shirt. He offers suggestions and guidance as you assemble the pieces, unwanted, but, appreciated nonetheless. Every now and then, he mutters praise and compliments into your ear, enjoying the moment of domesticity, which he rarely gets to appreciate anymore.

“You’re doing great,” he whispers, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “I like watching you work, beautiful.”

“Should I buy the Star Wars Lego set next?” You murmur absentmindedly, your hands working diligently on the Legos. Jason’s eyes instantly light up like fireworks. “Oh hell yeah,” he says, his enthusiasm evident in his tone and the way his fingers squeeze at your hips. “Those sets are badass. We could build the Millennium Falcon or the Death Star. Or the Jedi Starfighter. Wait, no, the AT-AT Walker."

You couldn’t help but giggle as he listed off sets, shaking your head softly. He grins, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “Your laugh is adorable.” He murmurs, pressing another soft kiss to your skin.

"And you're going to buy us the biggest, coolest Star Wars Lego set you can find. We're going to build a whole damn universe."

“We’re gonna have so much fun.” You giggle, feeding into his excitement. It was rare for you to see Jason so relaxed and excited about something, all you wanted to do was keep that smile on his face. You’d walk through the deepest pits in hell to keep him smiling.

“I have no doubt about that.” He replies, his hand wrapping around your waist, his palm splayed out on your stomach. "Building Legos, watching old movies, eating shitty pizza, and spending hours tangled up together. Sounds like my idea of heaven." He pulls you closer to him, pressing his chest against your back. "Can you imagine it already? Us, surrounded by a pile of Legos, trying to figure out which piece goes where. Hours passing by without us realizing it because we're so lost in each other's company." He has that dreamy look in his eyes, the one that reminds you that no matter how hard the world tries to harden him, to make him bitter, that he’s still that same lost boy who craves a little bit of love.

“You’re so dorky.” You laugh softly. Jason chuckles, the sound low in his chest. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, babe." He leans in, pressing a trail of soft kisses along your jawline. "You know you love my dorky side. After all," he continues, his lips moving down to your neck, "it's the dork who puts together the best Lego sets in town. And the dork who knows how to make you giggle and moan." His hands slide under the hem of your shirt, his touch warm and possessive against your skin. "And the dork who's gonna show you how much he appreciates you when we're finally done with this car."

“Stop it.” You say playfully, giggling at his touch, your mind slowly getting distracted from the car. Jason chuckles, his lips moving back up to your ear. "Not a chance, beautiful," he mumbles, his voice a sultry whisper. "You know I love making you laugh. And I really, really love it when I can hear all the noises you make when I have you all to myself."

[servicpop]

kinktober week 2 — edging & public/voyeurism(?) subby cole ( cowboy oc ) x bttm ( "showgirl" ) m reader

ⓘ voyeurism because cole is naked & outside , hand job ( cole receiving ) , he gets a cold from it

It was a quiet evening in Cole's hometown with you and him sat thigh to thigh on his plush swing chair out on the porch of his house. The streets weren't busy beside the occasional herder dog chasing after a stray sheep — to which you and Cole got a good laugh at.

This was the grace period of your work, no shows scheduled for the week, no meetings, and you were contact free from your boss. So, you spent the first day of the week travelling from the city to the countryside where Cole lived, and he was ecstatic seeing you again. You remember so vividly what happened when you showed up in the town. All the townsfolk practically knew every bit about you from how much Cole would talk about you and show off the polaroids you'd send to him via letters.

Asking where Cole was wasn't difficult since people were quick to usher you to Cole, leading you to the stables where he was tending the horses. The moment he saw you his eyes widened as if seeing an angel and he stumbled over his own boots from how fast he was running to you. He swooped you up in his arms and lifted you up from the ground almost cartoonishly with the way he nuzzled his face into you. Cole also spun you around a few times which undoubtedly made you feel a bit dizzy.

"Whaddaya smilin' so hard for, sugar?" Cole giggled at you smiling like an idiot; the laughter just bubbled out his throat. He leans his face closer to yours, only an eyelash away as he interrogates your random smile.

"Just thinking," you hum, still grinning ear to ear with your arms tangled and coiled around his. Cole doesn't believe you for a second and you can see it in the way one of his eyebrows raise. He moves in to brush his cheek against yours, cuddling up to you as the porch swing rocked delicately.

Cole's skin is more bronzed than before, his cheeks were dusted with sunkissed freckles, and his eyelashes seemed to have grown a bit longer, but his dimples never changed. Those dents in the side of his cheek always seemed to appear when you were around him.

You can feel his hands wrap around your waist a little tighter and your ears start to pick up Cole's slightly laboured breathing. You were about to ask if he was alright before you see him move his felt cattleman hat over his lap. That quirks your eyebrow.

"What's this?" You ask him with a playful chuckle, brushing your fingertips along the fabric of the hat.

"Don't stare sweets, it's just my body actin' up," He murmurs behind your shoulder, shrinking into the darkness between your back and the chair, "I'm embarrassed."

You giggle at his reaction; Cole is too pure for his own good. Your fingers slide underneath his hat, resting your hand on his inner thigh. "You don't have to be all shy, you know I won't judge," you coo, rubbing the fabric of his denim jeans lightly, but Cole squirms at the ticklish sensation nonetheless. His hand darts out to grip your forearm with shaky fingers like he was debating if he should actually stop you or not.

"Honey, not here," his voice almost reaches that whiny tone when he gets desperate for something. Despite his words, Cole doesn't even seem to notice his own hand guiding yours closer to his crotch. Its like he acts subconsciously, like its programmed into his brain to let you touch him. He lets out a small sigh of defeat, his head dropping back to rest on your shoulder as his hands move to clutch the top of his hat.

"Just— Just a little," his voice cracks and he's stuttering but you know that's his way of giving you the greenlight. You find your way to his belt buckle, slowly undoing it incase he wanted to back out and stop. He doesn't, so you slip off the belt and pull the zipper down.

Cole is hard. You see it through his light gray boxers, he's twitching, begging for you to give it some attention.

The cool breeze of the afternoon air reminds you that you're outside on his porch, nothing blocking his body but his hat. You glance up at Cole's face and it seems his cheeks have gotten significantly more pink and his pearly whites are caught onto his chapped, equally pink lip. There's a glossy sheen over them from saliva and you know its because he's been licking his lips repeatedly — a habit you've realised he does when he's flustered or nervous.

"You okay?" You giggle softly, shooting him a genuine look before stretching the fabric of his waistband down to rest below his aching dick.

"Yup, mighty fine darlin'." He's lying, and you know because Cole has his fist to his mouth and he's biting down on his pale skin to try and control himself. In reality, he's leaking all over your palm already, and his pale pink tip is dyed an angry red now.

You first use the tips of your fingers to cage around the base of his cock, dragging it all the way up lightly until it reaches the head. Cole is already whining and whimpering into his fist from the ticklish feeling. You see the slight tremble in his thighs when you slide your thumb around and over the slit of his tip, smearing his pre-cum everywhere.

"Oh, hellfire," he barks out but its more of a puppy's bark. The phrase 'hellfire' is an unfamiliar term for a city boy like yourself, but you're smart enough to understand that it's an old-timey phrase for a swear word. It's cute with the way he's crumbling at your hands but still makes an effort not to use "big city curses," as he calls it.

You finally move your hand to wrap around Cole's girth, stroking at a slow pace at first before increasing the speed. Its a vulgar sound from the lack of lube but his copious amounts of pre makes up for it. You feel every single vein throb at the feeling of your palm rubbing against it, pulsing with need.

"Hah, you're too good at this," he praises through a clenched jaw and laboured breaths. It isn't long before Cole catches your rhythm, bucking his hips up to match your hands. The porch swing rocks slightly more as he's thrusting up into your hand, his hat long gone as he's now fully exposed to those who walk by.

His moans become a little more throaty and you can tell he's enjoying it with the way his legs squirm as if he's being restrained from moving. Cole's eyes are screwed shut and his eyebrows are knitted together but his mouth slightly gapes into an 'o' shape, shamlessly letting out groans and whimpers.

Your fast paced stroking starts to slow down, and Cole's eyes fling open. "Wh–what are you doing?" He fluttered his thick eyelashes, looking down at your hand slowly pumping his cock. You don't respond to him, slowly increasing the pace but never speeding it up enough to tip him over the edge.

"Sweetheart, please." You swear you see tears brimming his eyes as he tries to move his hips to your hand and it does succeed for a bit. He's seeing stars as your hand just glides along his dick, feeling up every place that he's sensitive at. Its not enough though, your hand is barely squeezing him and it feels like a half-assed attempt to jerk him off.

"Baby, please just— clench your hand harder, please," he pleads, cupping your hand with his but he's so gentle with you it doesn't do anything. He's so close, he's teetering off the edge of an orgasm but he's not there yet. It almost hurts with how bad he wants to cum but he can't. Your hand ghost's over his tip and his body jerks forward from the touch but you pull away again and that heat in his stomach dies again.

He lets out a shaky breath of relief when he feels your hand clamp around him once more. Cole shoots you a glare, squeezing your hand tighter as if he's ensuring that you don't pull away again and mumbles, "I don't trust you no more."

You giggle and shake your head apologetically, "Sorry, sorry, I won't do it again," you promise, and you even bring your free hand to palm the tip of Cole's dick. He's whimpering again the second one of your hands is rubbing his head and the other is pumping his length.

His head is strewn back, adams apple bobbing at each harsh swallow. Cole feels your breath fan his tip and his eyes fling open, his whole body tensing as he watches you press a kiss to his red cockhead.

He orgasms right then and there, accidentally splashing your face with his seed.

"Ah— sorry 'bout that... you okay?"

You lift your head and Cole's hand wipes the cum off your face, "Maybe I deserved that," you chuckle. The sun had already disappeared behind the horizon and the streetlamps were starting to flicker on. Cole's shoulders jerk as he sneezes.

"Might've caught a cold from bein' out here, naked, all because of you," he huffs dramatically, pulling up his boxers and his jeans. "You gon' nurse me to heal if I do?" He flashes his teeth in a toothy smile and he has that post-orgasmic glow to his face.

"Yeah, yeah I will."

[leona-hawthorne]

FICMAS #8— HE’S MINE! / mattheo riddle

december 23rd

mattheo riddle x fem reader

summary: it seems to be a little hard to get into the christmas spirit when your little sister is hogging your boyfriend!

warnings: fluff, established relationship

words: 1.4k

a/n: i love this one tbh :)

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It had been your idea to bring Mattheo home for Christmas. Of course it had. You’d argued for it, certain your parents wouldn’t mind—and they didn’t. In fact, they’d been surprisingly enthusiastic about it. They liked Mattheo, for one, and they knew enough about his home life—or lack thereof—to see why he might need an escape for the holidays. Besides, the thought of leaving him behind in that cold, empty manor while you went off to bake cookies and trim trees with your family felt unbearable.  

What you hadn’t planned for was your little sister.  

The moment she saw Mattheo, her eyes went wide, her lips parted in a tiny gasp, and for once, she didn’t have a single smart remark. You’d expected her usual groaning protest of Ew, boys are gross or Whatever, he’s probably boring. But instead, she just stood there staring up at him, as though he were some sort of fairy tale prince who’d stepped straight out of one of her bedtime stories.  

“Hey,” Mattheo had said gently, crouching down to her level. He had that rare, soft smile on his face—the one he reserved only for you, and apparently now, six-year-old girls. “You must be the famous little sister. I’ve heard all about you.”  

Her face had turned scarlet, and she’d ducked behind your leg, clutching your jeans for dear life. You’d raised an eyebrow at Mattheo, trying to stifle a laugh. Well, this is new. 

From then on, it was as though she’d claimed him. Every time you turned around, there she was, dragging him off for some new adventure. At first, it was cute. Endearing, even. She’d taken him by the hand to show him the ornaments she’d made for the tree, chattering on about how she’d painted the reindeer one herself. He’d listened patiently, nodding and smiling as though her ramblings were the most fascinating thing he’d ever heard.  

But then it escalated.  

By the second day, you found them at her little pink tea table, tiny porcelain cups in hand. Mattheo’s long legs were awkwardly folded beneath him as he pretended to sip imaginary tea. You’d leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, biting your lip to keep from laughing.  

“Really?” you’d asked, grinning. “A tea party?”  

“She made me a very convincing argument,” Mattheo replied, deadpan, though the corners of his mouth twitched with amusement. “Also, I think this is her way of letting me know who’s in charge here.”  

You’d laughed then, shaking your head, but something about the way your sister beamed up at him had made you pause.  

It wasn’t long before her demands grew bolder. She’d roped him into baking cookies—flour dusted all over his dark jumper—and insisted he give her a piggyback ride around the house. And though Mattheo obliged her every request with good-natured patience, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance.

Because every time you tried to steal a moment alone with him, she was already there, wedged firmly between the two of you.  

On the third day, you figured maybe it was time to steal back your boyfriend.

“Where is he?” you muttered, stalking through the house. The smell of gingerbread lingered in the air, and somewhere, you could hear your sister’s giggles echoing down the hall.  

You found them in the living room. She was perched on Mattheo’s back, her little arms wrapped tightly around his neck as he crawled on all fours, pretending to be a dragon.  

“Really?” you said, crossing your arms as you stood in the doorway.  

Mattheo glanced up at you, his curls falling into his eyes. He was grinning. “What?”  

“She’s hogging you,” you said, your voice teetering on the edge of a whine.  

“She’s six,” he replied, raising an eyebrow. “You jealous of a six-year-old?”  

“What? No, I just– you know what? You two have fun, I’m gonna go help my mom with wrapping.”

And by the fourth day, you’d had enough.  

You didn’t know whether to scoff or to smile as you watched Mattheo from the doorway of the kitchen. He stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, flour dusting his dark shirt as he helped your little sister roll out sugar cookie dough. His hands were comically large compared to hers, yet he moved with such careful precision, as if afraid to crush her tiny fingers by accident.

Your sister giggled, a sound that echoed through the space like a bell, and your chest tightened at how easily Mattheo coaxed that sound from her. It was endearing—no, more than endearing. It was heartwarming. But also…infuriating.

You stepped into the room, leaning against the counter as you folded your arms. “How’s it going in here?”

Mattheo glanced up at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “It’s going great. We’re making masterpieces, aren’t we, kid?”

Your sister nodded vigorously, her pigtails bouncing as she beamed up at him. “Mattheo says my snowman looks perfect!”

You raised a brow, biting back a smile. “Perfect, huh? Even though his head is sliding off his body?”

Mattheo chuckled, brushing a streak of flour off his arm. “It’s an abstract snowman,” he said smoothly, turning back to the dough. “He’s got character.”

Your sister giggled again, clearly thrilled by his attention, and you felt the beginnings of that familiar pang of annoyance. You’d invited Mattheo here for you, not so he could spend every waking moment entertaining your sister.

“Right,” you said, stepping closer and nudging him lightly with your hip. “Well, I’m stealing him now. We were supposed to watch a movie, remember?”

Mattheo looked over at you, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement. “Baby, are you jealous of a six-year-old?”

Your mouth opened, indignation flaring to life, but before you could respond, your sister tugged on his sleeve. “Wait! We still have to make the reindeer cookies! You promised!”

Mattheo crouched slightly, bringing himself to her level as he smiled at her. “And we’ll make those, I swear. But your big sister’s giving me that look, and I think I’d better listen to her before she drags me out of here.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the way your lips twitched upward. “I’m not giving you a look.”

“Oh, you’re giving me a look,” he teased, standing to his full height and brushing his hands off on a towel. He leaned closer, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “You’re practically glaring at me. I’d almost say it’s cute.”

“Don’t push your luck, Riddle,” you muttered, though your cheeks burned at the way his breath ghosted against your skin.

Your sister pouted, crossing her arms. “But Mattheo—”

“I’ll be back,” he promised her, giving her a playful wink. “And when I am, we’ll make the best reindeer cookies anyone’s ever seen. Deal?”

She huffed, clearly not pleased, but she nodded anyway, her pout softening.

You grabbed Mattheo’s wrist, tugging him toward the living room before your sister could protest again. “Come on. You’re mine, remember?”

He let you pull him away, laughing softly under his breath. Once you reached the living room, you rounded on him, poking a finger at his chest. “You’re supposed to be spending time with me. Me, Mattheo. Not my sister. Me.”

“Is this really happening right now?” he asked, smirking down at you. “You’re actually jealous of a six-year-old.”

“Okay, first of all, I’m not jealous,” you shot back, though your words sounded more defensive than you intended. “I just don’t like sharing, especially when it’s you. And second, it’s not my fault she suddenly decided she loves boys after swearing for years that they had cooties!”

Mattheo grinned, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. “So what you’re saying is…I’m irresistible.”

You groaned, dropping your face into your hands. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me anyway.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, finding his gaze soft and affectionate, his smirk less teasing now and more genuine. Your frustration melted away as quickly as it had come, replaced by a warm, fluttery feeling in your chest.

“Yeah,” you admitted, dropping your hands and stepping closer to him. “I do.”

“And for the record,” he murmured, leaning down until his lips brushed your temple, “I’m yours. Always.”

​​ficmas taglist: @winnie1emon @ur-local-wizard @satosugu4-ever @ankoluvs @superstargirll @slytherin-princess-x @abeoavita @mattheoriddle101 @georgiastars13 @smoooore @mattheoriddles-sluttt @2dloveshp @mattysprincess @catching-fire-in-the-wind @revesephemeres @esmerai-artemis @clar2aa @iamaconfusedpan