#his facial expression and body language tell you everything

[sunshineandlyrics]

...

[yeah-thats-probably-it]

Once again tumblr is silencing my voice by not letting me add more than 30 tags. Okay the rest of what I was going to say is that if you gave him an assignment that was simple and out of the way enough, even upstairs, he might be able to stick it out for a couple hours. Another factor that determines how long that might be is where this is happening. Is he at Brinkley Court? Then Aunt Dahlia and the other servants (whom he seems to be on good terms with) will cover for him. No matter what he screws up, “oh, that’s Barry! He’s just new here!” Jeeves might be able to work something similar at a different manor house (presuming Bertie’s face isn’t already known there) if he’s on good terms with any of the servants there. They might agree to take Bertie under their wing as a favor to Jeeves. It also depends on whether Jeeves himself is there to help him, whether they’re working in the same area of the house, and if they’re able to inconspicuously pull each other aside to confer.

In conclusion: can’t answer question, too many variables

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: NSFW, noncon, yandere, stalking

♡ gn reader

There’s something very off about your roommate… something eerie that makes you keep your distance.

You can’t describe exactly what it was about the boy except that you felt it from the second you shook his hand. The way he introduced himself… you don’t know… you had this unshakable feeling as though he already knew you from somewhere.

It’s a weird thought to have of someone you’d only just met. You knew you were probably just being paranoid. It was your first time sharing your space with someone other than family, so it might very well just have been you being apprehensive.

Not that you’d ever let it show, though. You didn’t want things between the two of you to be awkward when you’d be living together for the next three years of getting your degree.

You just needed to get used to him, is what you told yourself. 

So you laughed at his jokes and listened to his brags with a polite smile as though nothing was wrong, even when he continued being strange.��

For starters, he had almost nothing to unpack – as though he only planned to stay about a month or two. Everything seemed newly bought as well – unused and sterile, like a movie set.

You don’t know… maybe he was a minimalist even though he didn’t seem the type.

It shouldn't really have made your skin crawl the way it did. But whether it made sense or not, you couldn’t shake the discomfort – walking around in a constant wariness of him. 

Everything about him seemed like a half-assed theatre act.

You’d see him in the lecture hall, walking from here to there, buying strawberry milk from the vending machines. His textbooks remained piled on his desk in your shared dorm room – but you’d never seen any one of them open. And when curiosity and suspicion made you flip up one of his notebooks, you found it was all blank except for a few shitty doodles on the first page. You never see him cram for exams or writing any papers. You don’t think you’ve ever even seen him pull a laptop out of his bag.

It’s like he isn't a student at all…

And something about the rest of his performance just rubs you the wrong way.

It’s as though he’s practiced all his facial expressions in the mirror – as though he’s studied social cues and body language in a human behavior manual instead of having learned them naturally. It makes you uneasy – how his smile is always a bit too wide and a bit too stiff to be genuine and how all his words are like dialogue off a script.

Somehow, it feels as though he’s wearing a second skin – hiding something… something that’s not quite right on the inside.

It grosses you out when he tries flirting with you. But you do your best to hide it. Brushing him off by changing the topic, inviting other friends when he asks to eat lunch together, laughing off his attempts as though he’s making jokes – always excusing yourself when you end up alone with him for too long. 

You try to avoid him as much as you can. Pretending to study when you’re in the dorm together – and otherwise going to bed early.

He tells you he’ll see you at the party later when you leave to pregame with some friends. You can only muster a smile and a curt “Sure.” before leaving. 

As for seeing each other later – you hope you don’t.

But of course you do. You can’t seem to escape him. Everywhere you go, he follows.

It doesn’t help that all your friends think he’s so hot, immediately calling him over, gushing over him as though he’s some type of celebrity. They don’t understand your reservation – if they were you, they’d have fucked him the first night of moving in together.

It’s not like you don’t find him attractive as well. You admit he is ridiculously handsome, and if the circumstances were different, you’d say you lucked out being assigned the same dorm room as him. 

But as it were – he gives you the same feeling as spotting a spider.

He’s got his arm slung around your shoulder as the two of you walk back together. 

He had a little bit too much to drink… And despite your thoughts about him, even you didn’t have the heart to say no when he was practically hanging off of you – cheeks dusted pink with his mothlike lashes droopy, drunkenly mumbling while blinking up at you with those awfully bright eyes, asking you to take him home and tuck him in.

“Ugh...” You sigh.

It’s a struggle carrying the nearly two-meter-tall boy, almost having to drag him down the hallway before stopping short at your door. He’s drooling on your shoulder with murmurs of sleep as you search for the key – not exactly sober yourself.

When inside, his bigger body presses you against the closed door – his face buried in the grove of your neck with slurred words.

“Dude.” You state with a grimace – as if saying his name was too much of a burden – sighing as you haul him off with the same exasperation of a parent putting an unruly child to bed. 

Ducking beneath his arm, you leave him kissing the door – thinking to yourself how you really should put him to bed before he can embarrass himself any further.

You open your mouth to tell him when his temper finally makes him grab your arm a little harder than intended. 

“This isn't how this is supposed to go.” 

You flinch instinctively, and his grip tightens in return. “Hey?”

You can’t see his face with the way he’s got his head bowed. But you don’t like the snuff growl that passes under his breath as he utters the next words.

“Why are you so difficult?”

You do more than flinch this time, yanking yourself out of his harsh grip before he can apologize for it – taking on a deliberate offensive stance. 

With your feet squared and your hands up to keep him at a distance, you look ready to try fending him off.

Something about it seems premeditated – something in the wary way you eye him. You don’t even look all that surprised – as if you had suspected this side of him existed all along and had only been waiting for it to surface.

Oddly, t feels like something you’ve kept secret from him – as though you’ve acted comfortable all this time when, in reality, you’ve been clutching your mental pearls.

He realizes then why you haven’t returned his affection – why all you’ve ever given him is cold-hearted rejection…

Of course. It’s obvious now – so obvious it’s funny. Even though he’s been the one parading around like someone else, it feels as though you’ve been doing the exact same thing around him – hiding your discomfort behind a sweet smile – hiding it so well that not even his keen eyes have picked up on it…

But it’s clear now….

You’ve both been playing a game of pretend – just a pair of perfect strangers – who've now shared their hand. Leaving you both feeling naked – raw out in the cold – just waiting for the next move.

“I guess the gig is up, huh?” He rasps, fingers twitching at his sides – looking ready to pounce.

You couldn’t defend why you'd kept the pepper spray in the drawer of your nightstand – but you were glad you had. Rushing for it, hands shaking as you pulled the handle and grabbed the bottle – twisting around and spraying it right in the face of your roommate.

He cries out from the attack, clutching his face with both hands – staggering back with a series of gruff curse words.

Still, he guards the door – preventing your escape.

The groaning turns to croaks instead, and you think he might be crying. It’s tough to see through the hands covering his eyes – but when he looks back up again, despite the red burns left by your pepper spray on his puffy teary cheeks, he’s got a smile on his face. 

He’s not crying – he’s laughing – as the hand covering his face slowly drags down the crazed expression – over crazed eyes, bloodshot and wet, staring at you through the gaps between his fingers.

The look alone is enough to give you goosebumps.

But when you try to make a run for it, he grabs you again – and this time, you’re not able to shake him off. It feels as though the tight grip splinters your skin as he pulls you back – shoving you down against your bed.

“Can’t say it hasn’t been fun, roomie. But I’m not completely satisfied yet.”

He’s on top of you before you get a kick in – pinning your wrists above your head as he leans over you – bright eyes gleaming with that sickness you’d almost convinced yourself you’d been imagining. You opt to shout, but he’s soon got his other hand clasped tight over the bottom half of your face before you get a sound out.

“You were supposed to fall in love with me, you know?” His voice is airy as though he’s confessing – but also on the brink of laughter as though he’s telling a joke in class. “That’s how it goes in the movies.”

You swallow beneath his hand – eyes peeled, heart beating so hard it hurts.

His eyes wander – roaming your neck and chest. It’s awfully quiet before he speaks again. “But I suppose we can act out a different plot line...” 

You whimper at his suggestive tone – already feeling the weight of his intentions bearing down on you, crushing you free of air. 

“I like romcoms, but horror stories have their charm, too...”

You shudder beneath the warmth of his breath, screaming into his palm once his warm lips mouth your throat, sucking on the tender skin with tongue and teeth in between words.

“An unfortunate college student finds themself moving into the same dorm as their unhinged stalker…”

There’s a thrill in his tone – something crazed and terrifying as he goes on.

“The two play a psychological game of endurance, trying to balance college and privacy while sharing the same space...”

Something hard and gross steadily ruts against your thigh. His voice gets thicker – breath hotter on your neck. The kisses turn sloppy. Tears burn your cheeks.

“Everything seems to lead up to a party held before Spring break, a fateful night on which their endurance finally runs out.”

He groans, and you sob.

“A rejected kiss, a can of pepper spray, a shared bed. What happens next?”

♡ BNHA – Denki, Kirishima, Hawks ♡ JJK – Mahito, Gojo, Yuuta ♡ HQ – Miya twins ♡ CSM – Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Nagi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

Full fic with smut available here:

[theblacklewinsky]

Note: college kicks ass, but I kick harder! a lil shorty smut for y'all 💗 happy holidays loves! felt cute, might delete later 🙈

Bunny & Her Man. | Aaron Pierre.

Gentleman!Terry Richmond x Black! Female Reader.

Warnings: MNDI!! this story is 18+ with depictions but not limited to; sexual content ( oral sex (f receiving) fingering, water sports), extreme language (cursing, use of b-word and others.) slight daddy kink if you squint. Reader referred to affectionately as Bunny.

Summary: in which Terry is head over hills for his girl, and shows it.

it's a new day,

no time to play, we're in love.

Bunny loved her man, and the best part about it was, her man loved her even more.

Terry literally adored Bunny, anything she wanted she got, he definitely made it his mission to be the sole provider in their relationship. He took immense pride in Bunny's degrees, her smarts matching how extremely stunning she was on the outside. And for as long as she managed to take care of herself before he came along, putting her degrees to good use—he halted that when he arrived, letting her know that if he allowed her to still provide for herself, he was no use to her around. So she let him. And she loved it.

Bunny loved how much her man splurged on her, she'd become a bit of brat by now. Receiving huge bouquets of her favorite yellow roses every Sunday, date nights were a frequent for the duo, and she was no stranger to designer bags and shoes. Whatever tickled her fancy.

So that's why when she texted Terry the day prior, that she was oh so tired of fucking him in the states, he replied twenty minutes later with a screenshot of a red eye flight to Grace Bay scheduled the next morning.

And he wasted no time in rectifying her complaint, not even allowing her the time to be rightfully jet-lagged after the flight, the second they entered their hotel room Terry was feral.

Bunny huffed, her thighs pushed rigidly against her chest, Terry's big hands squeezing and kneading the meaty flesh there as his lips sucked on her overly sensitive clit— the sucks, loud, lewd and sloppy. His stormy eyes trained on her facial expressions for his own validation, only feeling satisfied when he seen her big brown eyes roll into the back of her head for the third time that afternoon.

"Ssshitttt!" Bunny whimpered, her eyes low and dazed as she looked down at her man in between her legs, his tongue making dizzying, swirling circles around her clit, her body slightly jerking and trembling. "I'm bout to cum again, baby!"

"Mm-mm," Terry hummed in disapproval, lips suctioning around her clit briefly before pulling back with a loud pop. His pointer and middle finger replacing his soft lips, as his calloused fingers rubbed slow, agonizing circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves, watching her arousal leak out of her earnestly before averting his sole attention on Bunny's pretty face. "You asked daddy to cum, or you thinkin' for yourself again? Hm?" He muttered, voice dangerously low.

"What I tell you bout thinkin' when I'm fuckin' you?" He hummed, using the dripping arousal to slowly slip his two fingers inside of her sopping pussy, gummy, wet walls squeezing around his fingers as a choked out gasp slipped past her already parted lips.

Her body was on fire, and Terry's voice was not helping. Everything felt too tight, or too good, or too sensitive. Her chest heaved as she fought to catch her heavy, labored breathing. "Not thinkin' daddy," she slurred through a moan, vision blurring as he continued to pump his curled digits into her, hitting that sweet spot he knew so well inside of her. Her own hips absentmindedly bucking themselves unto his fingers, matching his quick hard thrusts. "Need to cum for you so bad, daddy, please!" She squeaked out, voice so small beneath the squishy sounds of her pussy being dug out on his fingers.

"Look at you, fuckin' yourself on my fingers," Terry tsk'd ignoring her plea to cum as he kept driving his fingers in and out of her, denying her the pleasure of cumming, but still wanting to make her, "pussy gushin' and talkin' all on my fuckin' fingers. Shit so fuckin sexy."

"Oh my god," Bunny huffed through a drawn out moan, her pussy clenching around his fingers at his lewd words, legs trembling beneath his hold, her own hands letting go of the vice grip she held on the hotel sheets, flinging them to his impending wrist, she didn't know how much longer she could continue holding on.

"Feel that pussy clenchin', you gon cum on daddy fingers without his permission?" He asked tauntingly, still giving her no leads on an answer yet. "You better not fuckin' cum, bitch. Hold that shit," he firmly stated, his eyes never leaving her face as he watched her lips fall into that familiar frown, her eyes rolling back once again, and her body going limp. "Hold that shit," he reiterated more firmly, slipping his fingers out of her and landing one single slap against her messy, sloppied pussy.

And that one slap relieved the heavy pressure in her stomach. Bunny squealed as her juices spurted out of her, soaking her thighs, and the sheets under ass.

Terry tsk'd, a surge of pride surging through him at how good he could make Bunny feel. What he could do to her just with his mouth and fingers. So Bunny got whatever she wanted from him, and he got whatever he wanted from Bunny. Even exchange.

"And just when I was about fuck you so good," he taunted leaning down to softly peck Bunny on the lips, her lazy whine a reply of protest, "couldn't hold it no more mama?"

Bunny shook her head slowly, jerking once more when she felt Terry's fingers softly skating up and down her sensitive, heated core. "That's too bad baby, cause now we gotta start all over. Daddy gotta make sure you understand the rules." He stated smugly, free hand slapping against her cheek firmly.

hope you enjoyed bunny 🙈. next fic will have a tag list & my masterlist is in the making!

[wlfchnlv3r]

stray kids kinks

warnings: 🔞, mdni!!, kink, smut, size kink, bondage, forced orgasm, threesome, mirror sex, body worship, chocking, praise kink, bondage, overstimulation, sex, unprotected sex

note: english is not my first language so be gentle pls

Bangchan

- you love how big Bangchan is and the size difference between you guys

- he also has a size kink FOR SURE, he loves seeing his cock slip into you inch by inch

- Bangchan remembers your first time together, you were a whiny little mess while he was trying to fit into you

- “stay still and take my cock like the good girl you are”

Hyunjin

- Hyunjin loves looking in the mirror while he fucks you.

- he would be absolutely stunned by the whines you make and your facial expression; the pleasure would be so evident on your face.

- “look in the mirror sweetheart, look at you”

- he would do anything to you: tits play, fingering, overstimulation, everything.

Changbin

- this man screams chocking, whether it is with is cock or his hands… he loves it.

- he would loves to curl his fingers around your neck, making difficult for you to breath (just the necessary)

- he also appreciates when you to take control while riding him; fucking yourself on his thick dick.

- loud noise and moans!!

Felix

- Felix loves you and want to make sure you know it.

- he would worship your entire body, kissing and biting every inch of it (he adores your tits!)

- he is also a bit territorial, whether is hickey or love bites, Felix wants everybody to know you are his little girl.

- after care is the only option! he would love to take care of you during the aftermath.

Lee know & Jisung

- you are probably in a open relationship with Lee know e Jisung, and you guys had a few threesome (maybe more then a few times).

- double penetration is something you love, the first time was strange but u started to get use to it and now it’s something you hope to achieve!

- you guys usually find a lot of new sex position and use sex toys to make your fantasies come true.

- sometimes you watch them having sex, and viceversa; Jisung is a total sub when it comes to being fucked by Lee know.

Jeongin

- Jeongin is for the random sex, the everyday sex, like the one’s that u guys have on the sofà while watching a movie.

- OVERSTIMULATION, he would keep pushing into you after you cum just for fun; Jeongin wants to see how long u can last before you start shaking for him.

- sex. has. to. be. fun for him! That means he would probably make stupid jokes while he push into you just to make you laugh.

- he is an after sex cuddle lover, this guy loves to have you in his arms while caressing your cheek with his thumb.

Seungmin

- Seungmin loves public sex, the adrenaline that he feels in trying not to be discovered. like fingering you under the table during a family dinner, that’s something he would definitely do.

- the intensity of sex dipends on his mood; usually rougher when somethings piss him of.

- “tell me baby, do you like how it feels?”

- he is also loud during sex, moans and groans are his way of showing you how much he’s enjoying the moment.

Tags:

(comment to be tagged)

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Protected » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky is always quick to protect you.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Protective!Bucky, brief mention of blood, guns, kissing, pet names

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF MADE BY ME! I know it’s not perfect, but I tried

Everything around you was chaotic. Bullets and debris were flying. The sounds of guns being fired. You lost track of how many times you’ve come close almost being shot. Luckily for you, you have fast reflexes and was able to move away before the bullets hit you. Bucky was watching you from a distance. He swore he aged 10 years every time he saw a bullet come close to you before you dodged it. He’s very protective of you and doesn’t like it when you’re hurt.

“Doll, please be careful.” Bucky says to you in his earpiece.

“I am being careful, Sarge.” You say, giving him a thumbs up.

He watched you dodge another bullet shortly after saying that. Bucky took a deep breath before going back to focusing on the mission. You aimed your gun at your target and shot at him, taking him down with ease. You continued to take people down with ease till someone tackled you from behind. You yelped when you hit the concrete, knocking your gun out of your hand. Bucky heard the sound of your yelp and looked over at you.

You grunted, trying to get the guy off of you. You looked in front of you, seeing that your gun was too far out of reach for you to grab and shoot the guy. You groaned loudly. That’s when you realized you have a knife in your thigh holster. You grabbed it and reached behind you, blindly trying to stab the guy, which you did on the first try, stabbing him in the side. The guy cried out in pain and got off of you, holding his now bloody side. You rolled over onto your back, trying to regroup yourself. You were about to stand up when you heard Yelena’s voice.

“Y/N, stay down!” Yelena shouts.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and looked in front of you, seeing a truck flying towards you. Your eyes went wide and your body froze. Your mind was telling you to get up and run, but your body wasn’t reacting. All you could do was cover your head and hope the truck didn’t squash you. That’s when you heard the sound of vibranium colliding with metal. You uncovered your head and looked up to see Bucky standing in front of you and the truck landing behind you. It didn’t take you long to realize that Bucky stopped the truck front hitting you with his vibranium arm. Bucky turned around and looked down at you. He crouched down in front of you and gave you a hug.

“Are you ok?” Bucky asks softly.

You were too in shock to answer him. Bucky unwrapped his arms from your body and checked you out for any injuries. You were fine, besides the cut you have on your forehead and the scrape you have on your knee.

“Why do you have that look on your face?” You asked him when you watched his facial expression change from a softened look to a worried look.

“You have a cut on your forehead and a scraped knee.” Bucky tells you.

You looked down at your knee, noticing a little bit of blood and your tactical pants ripped due to you scraping your knee. You assumed that was from when you got tackled to the ground not too long ago. You put a hand on your forehead, feeling some blood when you touched the cut. You took your hand away from your forehead and looked at your hand. Your eyes went wide when you seen the blood.

“I’m bleeding.” You say, beginning to panic.

“Hey, focus on me.” Bucky cupped your cheeks to get you to look at him. “You’re going to be fine, doll. I’m going to patch you up and you’ll be good as new.” He promises.

You stared in his blue eyes and nodded your head. Bucky picked you up bridal style and took you inside of a building to get you patched up. He sat you down on a chair and went to find a first aid kit, which he found with ease. When he came back, he pulled up a chair and sat down in front of you. He started with the scrape on your knee and put your leg across his lap.

“That’s going to sting.” You whimpered softly, watching him put some alcohol on a cotton ball.

“You can hold onto me if you want.” Bucky says.

You put one of your hands on his vibranium shoulder, preparing yourself for the stinging you’re about to feel on your knee. You hissed and winced when you felt the alcohol in the scrape, your nails digging in his black t-shirt. As Bucky was patching you up, realization hit you and your eyes went wide.

“What’s wrong, doll?” Bucky asks softly with concern in his voice.

“That truck could’ve crushed me.” You say, still in shock.

“But it didn’t.” He says.

“What if it did?” You asked, thinking the worst.

Your mind was making you think the worst. Bucky stopped patching you up momentarily to gently cup your cheeks, getting you to look in his blue eyes.

“Hey, no. Don’t go there.” Bucky coos softly. “I stopped the truck from hitting you. I kept you safe.” He says.

Bucky kissed your forehead softly before going back to patching you up. You couldn’t help but watch him.

“Something on your pretty little mind, doll?” Bucky asks, not looking up from your scraped knee.

You didn’t say anything. Bucky stopped what he was doing when you gently caressed his bearded cheek and looked up at you. Before either of you knew it, your lips were on his. He was caught by surprise, but kissed you back. It took you a few seconds to realize what you were doing and pulled your lips away from his.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” You quickly apologized. “I didn’t mean to do that.” You say, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“Why are you apologizing?” Bucky asks.

“Cause I kissed you.” You say.

You were caught by surprise when Bucky kissed you softly. You two were so into the kiss that you guys didn’t hear Yelena walk in the room.

“Are you- oh, sorry.” Yelena apologizes, accidentally walking in on you and Bucky kissing.

You and Bucky quickly pulled away from each other and looked at Yelena with the look of embarrassment on your faces.

“I was gonna ask if Y/N is ok, but you two are clearly busy. I’ll come back later.” She says before walking out of the room.

You and Bucky bursted out laughing. You leaned your forehead against his shoulder.

“That wasn’t our finest moment.” Bucky says.

“Agreed.” You say, leaning your forehead against his shoulder.

After the little awkward moment, Bucky went back to patching you up, which didn’t take too long.

“There you go.” Bucky smiles. “See, I told you’d be good as new after you’re patched up.” He says, lighting up the mood.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You smiled up at him.

“You’re welcome, doll.” He says.

“Also, thank you for saving me from that truck almost hitting me.” You say.

“You don’t have to thank me, babydoll. I just want you to be protected.” He says softly, kissing your forehead, making you smile.

“If that person protecting me is you, I’ll be so protected.” You say, smiling up at him.

“I feel honored to be that person.” Bucky says, smiling back.

��🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[buuniebaby]

your first time with hamzah 🙈🙈

THERE’S A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING. 🎀

includes: losing your virginity, awkward sex talk, very sweet sex ! 💝

word count 3.2k purr

you’re too tired for this.

you and hamzah are becoming sleep deprived, something you usually do together: come over to each others houses, watch a movie, eat food your stomach will regret in the morning. it’s been a tradition since you guys were just friends.

even now as you’re dating, it still feels.. the same. not that you’re complaining; you love having a partner who’s also a best friend to you. it just feels like there should be some sort of change, but you can’t put your finger on it.

it’s 2 in the morning now. you and hamzah have watched about 3 shitty 2000s movies, enjoying every moment of each one. your brain feels absolutely fried, and you can only imagine his is as well.

“are you a virgin?” hamzah spoke suddenly, but also casually. a little too casually. you choke on your own spit at that, face turning red with embarrassment.

“…what?” is all you can reply back. “what- why?” you say, eyebrows furrowing at him. your voice has noticeably pitched up.

“i dunno. just tell me.” hamzah says, rolling his eyes. you hate how confident and sassy he is, but you’re also sort of attracted to it.

“you’re so weird.” you practically squeal, jokingly. you grab onto a pillow as you fall back first onto the bed. “why do you even wanna know? that’s so like, random.” you ask, more genuine this time.

“i guess,” hamzah starts, but then pauses, almost as if he doesn’t know the answer himself.

“i was just kinda thinking. like, we don’t really talk about sex, ever. and we don’t have to- I don’t wanna bring it up if you’re uncomfortable. I’m just like, curious if you’d be down to talk about it.” he rambles, making up his words as he goes. you furrow your brows as he speaks, still kind of confused. you know there had to be something that started it, you just aren’t sure what.

“oh. well like,” you flush, sort of embarrassed to admit what you’re about to say. “yeah, i am.”

“a virgin?” hamzah asks, head tilting like a lost puppy.

“yes, idiot. what else would i be talking about?” you reply back sarcastically.

“you’re right, you’re right,” he banters with you. “I just- I guess I’m surprised.”

you perk back up, sitting yourself upright again.

“surprised.. that im a virgin?” you question, raising an eyebrow.

“i guess.. i dunno. I just feel like you’re like, too pretty to not have found someone who wants you like that.” he rambles. you feel a blush creep onto your cheeks again, knowing he’ll always praise you for your pretty face.

“i mean, I’ve found a lot of people who want me,” you say, rolling your eyes at the thought of a particular ex. “I’m just like, picky, I guess.” your giggling as hamzah somewhat laughs with you, but you watch as his facial expression starts to falter. you know something’s on his mind.

“do you want to?” is all he mutters. again, he keeps this quiet, casual tone that you rarely see with him.

“i mean, yeah, kinda. I just like, don’t know where to start I guess.” you answer honestly. “feels like everyone’s way more experienced than i am anyways.” hamzah turns over to you, looking in the eye. you feel him think for a second, as if he doesn’t know whether he should let his thoughts out or not.

“well, I don’t really have experience either.” he mutters back, scoping for a negative reaction from you. your eyes widen a bit, and he doesn’t know if he should take your body language negatively or positively.

“you’re a virgin too?” you ask, a more shy tone than usual.

“..yeah. well I’ve done like- stuff. just like, never had sex. never had my penis like, in there, y’know-“

“you don’t need to go into detail.” is all you have to say, talking over him.

“-but i would go all the way with you.”

that’s all you remember from that night before blacking out, yet somehow the short memory haunts your mind. it’s eating you up inside, the thought of losing your virginity after so long to him.

you’ve seen all the edits and thirst traps of him online and can admit that they’ve made you feel some type of way about him - hell, you’ve touched yourself to the idea of your boyfriend too. yet for some reason, the thought of actually having sex with him was never really a priority to you. it’s not until now you’ve understood people’s cravings for sex, but god can you feel it now.

you’re making breakfast the next morning while his hands are around your waist and all you can think of is that conversation. when you help him with editing throughout the day, leaning over his shoulder, all you can think about is him having you bent over like that in a different context. you feel like you’re in a haze almost, clouded by the thought of hamzah.

“baby?” hamzah asks, waving a hand in front of your face in an attempt to get your attention. you perk up and face him, slightly embarrassed for spacing out.

“i was just gonna ask if you wanted me to order something for lunch.” he says casually, but his face begins to fade into an expression between concerned and confused. “you okay?”

“what?!” you reply, scrambling at bit as you didn’t think he would pick up on your behavior. “im fine. what do you mean??” you question; rapidly.

“you’ve just been like, really spaced out today. i get like that, where i like dissociate sometimes when something reallyyy bad happens. so i just wanted to make sure.” he rambles a bit, genuine concern in your eyes. despite the horniness driving your body right now, you do feel a bit warmed by the way he cares for you.

“you can always talk to me if something’s up, y’know-“

“did you mean it?” you ask, staring at him blankly.

“mean… what?” he stares back at you, looking at you like you just killed a man in front of him.

“what you said last night. that you’d like- y’know..” you look down shyly, hiding in your hair as a warm blush creeps onto your face.

“that I would..?” hamzah looks at you, genuinely clueless.

“lose it to me hamzah. have sex with me. loose your virginity.” you look up at him, speaking sternly. you’re a little too pent up to take his stupidity today.

you watch as his expression changes, going from confused to something you can’t even put a name on. a mix of shocked, embarrassed, amused - but most prominently, you watch that urge crawl up into his body. you can tell in his eyes that he wants you in the same way you crave him.

“yeah.” he says, breathy. “i want that. like, now though? or like later, what are we doing-“

his words are cut off as your lips land on his. he gasps into the kiss, caught by surprise. you try and swipe your tongue against his slightly parted lips, but he pulls away before you can get it anywhere significant.

you look at him concerned after he pulls away, taking a second to breathe.

“have you like- kissed anyone before?” he asks, and you can tell he’s serious. you giggle a little.

“yes, ive kissed before.” you say, a little smile still formed on your face. “buuut..” you drag on your words to edge him on a bit.

“ive only made out with someone once, and i can already tell you’re the better kisser.” you say, slyly. he likes it when you boost his ego like this - he’s already proud of himself for pulling you, so you make him feel like some sort of greek god.

he smirks before he pulls you into another kiss, this time pressing his lips to yours a lot firmer. it’s more intense this time around, a hand cupping the side of your face, holding you in place for him as his tongue glides inside your mouth.

you kiss until you physically can’t anymore, pulling back when you need a break for air. there’s an awkward silence before he kisses you again, putting his hands on your waist sometimes. you’re taken aback a bit as he lifts you in the air.

your immediate reaction is to hook your legs onto something, hamzah just being the nearest option, of course. your legs wrap around him, straddling his hips. you arms are grabbing onto his shoulders gently. he’s strong enough to hold you without support, but you like the physical aspect of clinging onto him like a koala.

he reaches the room, fumbling with the doorknob as he struggles to lift you at the same time. he kicks the door closed softly behind him when he eventually gets in there. he drops you in the middle of the bed, body landing gracefully.

you sit yourself up into a more comfortable position, and hamzah sits himself right next to you. it’s here when you realize how comfortable you are around him, even if you’re about to reach a life milestone you can never take back with him.

but fuck, you’re never gonna be able to take this back. the anxiety crawls back up into your brain for a second, but the feeling of hamzah’s hand on your thigh relaxes you. a single look into his eyes and you’re already reassuring yourself again. you’re not gonna want to take this back, because god, you love this boy.

“have you ever-“ hamzah pauses mid sentence, stuttering. he does this when he doesn’t know what words to use; it’s one of his mannerisms that you’ve picked up a little yourself over time. “like, felt anyone up? or like- dry hump them, I guess.” he says. you feel him cringe a bit at his own words - he gets embarrassed easily.

“not really,” you say. a smirk creeps onto your face as you have an idea. “but you could show me how.”

hamzah’s eyes widen a bit as his hand moves from your thigh to your waist. he picks you up again like it’s nothing, sitting you down on his lap. his hands massage your waist, moving up briefly past your chest. he runs at your collarbone for a minute, staring at your clothed breasts.

“can i take this off?” he asks in a low voice, toying with the fabric at your shoulders. you bite your lip as you give him a nod, and before you know it whatever garment was covering you before is gone.

“fuckkk,” is all hamzah lets out before a hand is cupping your chest, squeezing at your soft and fleshy skin. instinctively, you push your chest into his hands. you let out a soft noise as he rolls one of your nipples between his fingers.

he’s fully hard now, and you can feel it straining against you. you can tell he’s trying to keep his hips still, not wanting to get worked up too fast.

his hands leave one side of your chest as his mouth attaches to your other nipple. you can’t help but moan at the feeling of him suckling at it. he pulls of for a second, and you can feel his hands fumbling with the fabric of your bottoms for a second.

“take this off for me?” he pleads in a sweet tone, and you can tell he’s starting to get needy. you comply, of course, leaving you in just your underwear. you don’t want to be the only one undressed though, so you shimmy his pants down a bit and get his shirt off too.

you’re left in both just underwear - a weird feeling. there’s not a lot of fabric separating your crotch and hamzah’s, so when he bucks his hips up into yours it feels good. he ducks down to kiss you again, chest pressing to yours, and god, you feel like you’re in heaven. there’s heat burning through your body as your bare skin touched his.

his hands are on your hips as you grind against him, the thin material of his boxers straining against his cock. he reaches down to rub you through your underwear, eliciting a moan as you hide his head in your shoulder.

he stops your grinding for a second, a hand trailing up your thigh. he uses it to spread your legs wide, causing you to make a small noise. he pulls your panties to the side, showing off what he’s wanted all this time.

he’s already settling lower, head balance with your hips, and now you’re nervous. it’s your first time being touched like this - probably his too, and it’s scary. you close your eyes when you feel him plant a kiss on your hip, teasing you. he continues to kiss around, even guiding a hand back up to play with your chest, but it’s not enough.

“please,” you whimper, begging for more stimulation. hamzah takes it as a sign you’re ready, and before you know it, you’re squirming again.

he presses just a single finger inside you, scoping how much you’re able to take. your stomach flips as you feel him spread you open. he adds another finger once the first one is in knuckle deep, then begins to curl them inside of you. you whimper at the feeling as his fingers excel in speed, working you open.

“hamzah- fuck.” you whine, letting out an especially sharp gasp at the feeling of his fingers hitting that spot.

“yeah?” he asks, playfully, curling his fingers to hit the same spot. your pelvis thrusts up at the movement, only motivating him to go further. his hands are so fucking big and he’s so strong when he thrusts his fingers up into you. it burns in the best way possible.

“ah- hamzah!” you squeal, squirming around. you whine when you feel him pull away from him; you were so, so close to finishing. you look up at him and whimper, a sad expression plastered across your face.

“didn’t want you to cum yet,” hamzah mutters under his breath. “not done with you.”

you flush red, his words washing over your body in a hot wave. suddenly hamzah is moving, pulling down his boxers, and god his dick is big. you can’t help but whine at how badly you want it inside you.

“so noisy.” he mumbles, lining his cock up with your folds and sliding the tip between them. you only whine more at his teasing.

“hamzahh,” you complain, eager for him to stop teasing you and just put it in.

“mhm?” he replies, edging you on. he strokes himself a bit, acts as if he’s going to put it in, but then doesn’t. he knows what he’s doing and you hate it. “need something, baby?”

he’s so mean, making you beg.

“I need it so bad, hamzah, pleeasee-“ you beg, desperate. you don’t care how humiliating it is now, you need him.

“need what, baby?” he asks, obviously only to get a reaction out of you. you sigh, but you know what you need to do.

“fuck me, hamzah. i need you - your cock.” you beg, no - demand, firmly.

hamzah doesn’t stall once he’s gotten what he wants. he’s done with the teasing, pressing his tip into you. you let out a shaky moan - it hurts a little when he slides in, like ripping off a bandaid.

“hamzah- hurts.” is all the words you can get out. his hips still inside of you, waiting for you to take a breath before he continues.

“it’s okay baby. gonna feel better once I’m all the way in.” he mutters, caressing your cheek with the hand that isn’t holding him up. he wasn’t lying - it’s painful as he slides himself into you, stretching you out, but once your hip-to-hip with him there’s a comfortable peace to the feeling.

you two lay in that position for a minute, feeling the warmth of connection between your bodies. it’s a soft, loving touch - you feel safe in his arms.

“s’okay if i move now?” he whispers to you, keeping a gentle tone. at the end of the day, he’s here to take care of you.

“yeah. thank you.” you say, genuinely grateful for his patience. you remind yourself that it’s his first time doing this too; you’re not alone in your anxiety.

you clutch onto his shoulders as he nearly pulls out, cock sliding out of you to the tip, then slams back into you.

“h-hamzah!” you whimper, clawing your nails at his back. he keeps a similar pace, thrusting into you deep. even hamzah makes a small noise at the feeling of being inside you, hips stuttering against yours. the sound of skin slapping together and breathy moans fills the room.

you wrap your arms and legs around hamzah as he continues to thrust into you, clinging to him.

“so pretty.” he says, looking down at you. “there’s a reason- fuck- i wanted to fuck you in missionary. pretty face.” he stutters, moving a hand to caress your face. you can’t say anything else but whimper at him, overstimulated from a combination of his thrusts and his words.

you feel a tight feeling build in your stomach, almost like a coil nearing its breaking point. you clench around him, legs beginning to shake.

“aah- hamzah! fuck-“ you practically scream, rolling your hips up into his one last time before you orgasm. he just stares at you, slowing the roll of his own hips, in awe.

you notice as his pace slows after you catch your breath, looking up at him almost disappointed.

“what’re you doing?” you mumble, voice worn out.

“you finished, i don’t wanna-“ he begins to ramble, but you cut him off.

“keep going.” you say firmly.

“huh?”

“want you to cum too.” you say, voice still soft and tired. you roll your hips up into him, still sensitive. he nods, pushing back into you.

he continues to thrust into you rougher and rougher until his hips are slapping against yours with every thrust. every little noise you make turns him on more, until finally, he forces himself to pull out of you.

he strokes himself on top of you, a string of cum landing on your stomach. he’s panting as he finishes all over you, painting your stomach white. you smile at the scene, enjoying the was he’s made you his little art piece.

he collapses next to you, laying on his back, catching his breath.

“glad i waited.” you mumble. he turns over to you, looking into your eyes.

“waited for what?” he asks, tiredly tilting his head.

“like, to have sex. m’glad I waited until you.” you mumble, tiredness apparent in your voice. hamzah thinks his heart melts a little at your words.

he grabs a tissue off of his bedside table and wipes the cum off of you so that he can pull you into his arms, dragging the covers over your body.

“i’m glad i waited for you too.”

[business-as-usual-bats]

"Give Elon Musk the benefit of the doubt-"

Except here's the thing- I did.

Because I heard about it before I saw it. I never particularly liked Musk, but I moreso felt fairly ambivalent toward him. I certainly did not picture him as a Nazi.

When I first heard about the Nazi salute I was surprised. And when that person told me, "Oh, but they're saying it was unintentional, just him being awkward-"

I believed that. I believed it was most likely a mistake, and people were exaggerating because so many are upset and panicked.

And then I saw the video.

Immediately it was so much worse than I had imagined. I was shocked. Everything about the video to his body language to his facial expression. How he did it twice. It was so obviously intentional and undeniable. And even then I compared it to multiple other videos of Nazis doing the salute, including modern-day Nazis. It's identical.

He didn't even deny it immediately afterward???

Not even a simple, "Ha, obviously that's not what I meant-" He avoided the question and laughed it off altogether, to imply MAYBE it wasn't on purpose. And yet you can't help but notice he still didn't deny it.

And the arguments defending him are INSANE. They capture pictures of other politicians mid-wave, mid-gesture and say, "See??? See??? They've all done it!"

No. They haven't. Not like that. Not a salute like that. Not even close to being so intentional and obvious.

Or they go, "It was him throwing his heart out to the crowd-"

No. There's multiple videos of him doing that during other speeches of his, and it's nowhere near this Nazi salute. Palms turned upward, or using both arms, etc, etc. It's not as if he's not used to giving speeches, as if he has not been coached and had training on what to do or not to do when public speaking.

"Noooo it's the Roman Salute!"

The Nazi Salute is based off the Roman Salute specifically (the arm is just dipped slightly lower-) AND EITHER WAY THEY'RE BOTH CONSIDERED HATE SYMBOLS??

The cognitive dissonance of people trying and trying and trying to excuse him. And to be clear- I would love if there was a good excuse! I don't want him to have thrown up a Nazi salute on live national television!

But he did. I cannot deny my own eyes. No matter what I am told, I know what I see as clear as day.

I'm not even saying he's a Nazi, I'm not claiming to know what his beliefs are or why he did a Nazi salute on Live television. Hell, maybe he did it as a dare, or a challenge to himself to see what he can get away with, but it doesn't really matter why.

What I know:

1. For whatever reason, Elon Musk intentionally did the Nazi Salute on Live television.

2. He did not immediately deny doing so or apologize.

3. Because of this, today's Nazis are praising him for it. They are saying "We're back!" And "This is our time!" And various celebratory phrases.

4. Even if you argue this was unintentional (even though I can tell by his body language it was) the damage has been done. Nazis are rallying behind him, encouraged, excited. This is going to have consequences.

Nazis have already been parading around my city. Now they're going to be bolder. The damage has been done.

TLDR: I was fully prepared to believe Elon doing the Nazi salute was an awkward mistake but one look at the video and I cannot fool myself into believing otherwise. And now we have to pay the price for his stupid actions.

[sxfterhearts]

can I request a cute date with intak that takes place in the rain but doesn't stop them from enjoying their time together?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ sweet bf!intak x reader ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

♡ genre/warnings: fluff!!! y/n is having a bad day but a cute rainy date with intak makes everything better <3

♡ word count: 1,216 words

♡ author's note: ahh thank you so much for requesting anon!! this is the first time i've written in over a month omg i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it :")

//

damn it. 

you were late. by 10 minutes, to be exact.

on any other day, you were punctual. but today, of all days, things just didn’t seem to be going your way.

your pre-exam tradition – two half-boiled eggs for breakfast, turned out to be very hard-boiled this morning. you rushed out of the door to catch the bus with a lingering dryness in your mouth (from the yolks, no doubt), only to realise when you were approaching the bus stop that you forgot your umbrella and there was no time to turn back. there were no free seats on the bus so you had to stand by the back door, shuffling awkwardly every time the bus made a stop. your regular seat by the window overlooking the school field was taken by some lanky, blonde boy. and to top it all off, you overheard your classmates claiming they wrote down completely different answers to yours as you dashed out of the exam hall to catch the first bus out of there.

the moment you stepped out of the bus, you felt it. 

a drop. and then another. and then one more. 

you sighed. today, of all days, why did everything have to be so difficult?

you took cover under the bus stop as rain began to fall all around you. your lips worked itself into a permanent pout as you pulled out your phone, fingers flying across the screen as you sent a quick text to update intak that you arrived at your meeting spot, and to apologise for being late.

you were meant to go on a date – the first in two weeks. a date to unwind after the exam you’ve been studying and preparing and dreading all week. a date to walk around seoul forest and be one with nature and take in the greenery, the ponds and the birds chirping. a date to spend time and be with your boyfriend, intak.

who, speaking of, was calling your name from across the street. 

“y/n!!”

you looked up, and felt your tense shoulders and furrowed eyebrows relax itself upon meeting his eyes. the weight you carried around all day gradually lightened. there he was, your boyfriend, hwang intak – happiness personified, million-watt lopsided smile, umbrella in hand. if he had a tail, you were absolutely sure it’d be wagging excitedly by now.

“hold on!” he shouted before looking both ways and sprinting towards you.

you watched, transfixed, as your happiness spread and unfolded before your very eyes. you couldn’t help but to feel your heart tug and pull you towards him.

“hey,” intak saw you and his excited smile shifted into one of understanding and empathy. he could tell, by your body language and facial expression, that today hadn’t been the best for you.

instead of exchanging greetings, you just hugged him. you wanted to; no, needed to recharge your batteries by being close to him.

intak just smiled quietly while hugging you back. as your boyfriend, he knew that you needed time to soak in the present moment and enjoy being in his embrace. he realised, as you snuggled closer, that he liked the thought of being needed like this.

after a few silent moments, you peeled away and looked up at him.

he looked back expectantly. “better?”

“so much better. i’m all recharged.” you placed a sweet kiss on his cheek and he replied by pressing his soft lips on your forehead. “but the date is ruined.”

“what do you mean?” he followed your line of sight, which was shooting daggers at the grey skies above. “we have an umbrella, y/n.” he chuckled.

“but…”

“c’mon, it’ll be a little uncomfortable, but we’ll have so much fun. trust me! here.” like magic, intak conjured up two cans from his pocket. a hot latte for you, and a can of soymilk for himself. “have this, it’ll warm you up.”

the two of you linked arms and walked around the park. while savouring your warm drinks, you pointed things out to each other. the little things, like how the water droplets gathered on a single petal or leaf, or the buds that were ready and eager to bloom into flowers, or the funny shapes of the puddles, and jumping over said puddles. you both huddled close as a chilly wind blew over you, coaxing the trees into a flamboyant dance and the leaves to rustle in a calming song, accompanied by the gentle pitter-patter of rain on your shared umbrella. you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, letting nature wash away the remnants of your tiring day. 

intak couldn’t resist the urge to take photos of you – you standing in the rain, you crouching down to admire the flowerbeds, you chasing the ducks around the pond. inevitably, he got himself wet in the process.

“it’s just a bit of rain.” intak shrugged and shot you his signature smile. he shook the droplets off his hair and sprinkled you with raindrops in the process. 

and you know what? he was right. before you met him, you used to be really set in your ways. you were not particularly spontaneous, and would feel uncomfortable if things didn’t go to plan, or worse, if there wasn’t a plan. but since meeting intak, who had a completely different outlook on life, you’ve been exposed to a new perspective. you learned to go with the flow – to let things go, to focus less on the outcome and to just have fun in the process. it was like something inside you shifted.

you found a dry patch under a big tree. using a stick, you began to draw shapes in the dirt. intak quickly caught on, and tried to add his own drawings to yours. the two of you tag teamed, taking turns drawing each stroke of an animal that the other had to guess. you failed miserably, given your lack of artistic skills. the game concluded when intak drew a heart with your names in the centre. it was so cheesy, and it made you feel like the main character’s love interest in a high school romcom, but you loved it. 

intak didn’t mind being a huge cheeseball, as long as it meant he got to see that pretty smile of yours. yes, definitely worth it, he decided as you leaned in for a kiss that tasted like a mix of coffee and soymilk– a perfect combination, he thought. after all, the boy is in love with you.

“shall we get lunch?” he asked.

“yes, but i’m craving pancakes. kimchi pancakes, vegetable pancakes… and makgeolli.”

intak shot you a knowing smile. the initial plan was to try this new viral pasta restaurant close by. that was the reason why you met near seoul forest in the first place.

but it just wasn’t the right weather for pasta – it was raining, and the only correct answer for what to eat on a rainy day in korea is pancakes and makgeolli. the sound of oil splashing and splattering when frying the pancakes, or jeon, resembled the sound of raindrops. 

intak was happy because he knew you were becoming more open to trying things, and learning to adapt. he felt his chest blossom with pride.

“i know just the right place.”

[sturnsbaby]

CODE WORD ...CHRIS STURNIOLO

Summary: You were stressed out while out in public, and you and chris have a code word that you both use whenever you need each other.

Trigger warnings: Describing a anxiety attack, crying, cussing,

use of y/n, she/her pronouns

very sweet chris, angst, fluff

"baby?" you hear chris say, quietly, as your first wake up, as well as feeling him slightly shake you.

"hmm?" you mumble, slightly awake.

"wake up mama, it's 10:56" he whisperes in your ear before giving you a kiss on the cheek.

"my stomach hurts" you whine and sit up, usually, when your stomach hurts it's because your stressed, and chris knew this.

"what's wrong ma?" he says and sits infront of you.

"i don't know.. i just- i feel off today." you shrug and rub your eyes as you finally fully wake up.

"are you sure you want to go anywhere? we can stay home and go another day." he says and holds your hand.

"no- no it's fine." you reassure him with a slight smile.

"are you sure ma?" he says, not convinced that it's fine.

"mhm" you say and stand up.

"okay, remember our word?" he says and also gets up.

you nod in response and go to your dresser to pick out a outfit. To be simple, your wearing ripped jeans and a normal crop top.

time skip

The mall was already a scary place for you, you hated the crowd of people, the loud noises, basically everything just stressed you out in there, and now that chris was gone to use the bathroom, you were even more anxious about the situation. you were with nick and matt, but you needed chris to stay calm, he knew how to help you more then anyone, he could read your body language better then anyone else can.

Eventually, Matt had informed you that chris went to go get some food from somewhere in the mall, which to you, ment he was going to be gone longer. Which was your breaking point.

Your eyes water and your breathing becomes quicker as you look around at your surroundings, not sure of what to do right now in the situation you are in. A wave of dizziness went through your body as your head was starting to hurt and a annoying high pitched ringing in your ears started to form.

The only thing you could do right now is say the word you and chris have and hope that nick and matt know what it means, "flowers" you stutter and nick and matt look at you with slight worry and a confused facial expression.

"what? are you okay?" matt asks you and you shake your head and tears roll down your face and nick pulls out his phone and texts chris.

nick: can you help? what does flowers mean??

chris: wdym?

nick: y/n is crying and she hasn't said anything besides flowers ...

chris: where are you guys??

nick: the same place but what's going on is she okay

chris: it's a code word, anyways, can u please talk to her and tell her everything's okay? i'm on my way now, we can get food later.

nick: WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENIG???

chris: fuck nick she's having a anxiety attack. read at 4:56 pm

"its okay, breathe." nick says as he puts his phone away, matt looks back at nick, completely confused of what's going on.

nick goes up to you and looks you in the eyes, "chris is coming, okay? Your okay, breathe in and out."

And a couple minutes later, chris is by your side and comforting you, "your okay my pretty girl. I'm here." he whispers to you as he wraps his arms around you and kisses you on the forehead.

sick! 2 fics in one day :)

[hotchscoffeecup]

how do we carry on?

pairing: hotch x bau!reader

rating: m

word count: 4.8k

genre: angst, hurt no comfort

summary: emily was your confidant, your best friend. when she dies at the hands of ian doyle, you find comfort in your boyfriend, aaron. when you find out that she’s alive and that hotch had known all along, your world falls out from under you. can you and hotch come back from the decision he made for the good of the team?

*if this gains enough traction i might follow up with a pt.2 to give it a happy ending*

The criss-crossed lines of the tile floor blur together as you stare blankly between your feet. The tops of your thighs have gone numb from digging your elbows into them, using your cradled hands as a pillow for your forehead. You couldn’t go home, not until you knew.

Rossi had offered to go on a walk and get a coffee, but shitty lukewarm hospital coffee was the last thing you needed. You hadn’t meant to write him off, you just couldn’t justify doing anything to distract from the fact that she was on that operating table, that Emily’s life was literally hanging in the balance.

The rest of the team was no better off than you are right now. Penelope’s knitting needles clack relentlessly, the scarf inside of her purse growing as her hands keep busy so her mind doesn’t focus on how hard she’s trying not to cry. The last time you’d poked your head up, Derek hadn’t moved from the waiting room windowsill where he’d been standing still as a statue staring out at the cityscape. If Spencer didn’t stop shaking his leg, you feared he would wear a hole straight through the tile. JJ exits the waiting room as often as she returns, her liaising days quickly coming back, making her their only link to the operating room. Hotch’s behavior is no different. His cell rings every ten to fifteen minutes, no doubt the Bureau wanting to know how the hell this could happen. It’s the only sign that time is actually passing and you’re forced to accept that you’re not stuck in some fucked up purgatory-esque hellscape where time stands still, torturing you as your dear friend’s life teeters between worlds.

What you wanted, what you needed was for him to hold you; to place a kiss against your temple and tell you that everything would be alright. It had to be alright.

He couldn’t show favor to you though, not now. The team didn’t know about your relationship with him, though you believe a few have their suspicions. You’re all too observant for your own good. Not much goes unnoticed by anyone. So when JJ walks back into the waiting room, everyone shifts toward her to try and get a glimpse into her facial expression and body language for any sign of an update regarding Emily’s condition.

Instantly, you know something is wrong. JJ’s eyes flit from one person to the next, not lingering very long on anyone. Spencer is the first to stand and you follow suit. You close in, forming a small half circle. Behind JJ, Hotch stands in the doorway, brow straight as he folds his arms across his chest.

“JJ?” Her name is an anxious plea on Penelope’s lips.

JJ’s eyes drop to the floor as she presses her lips together. She takes a deep breath and lifts her eyes, yours the ones they land on as she speaks. “She never made it off the table.”

A choked sob echoes from Garcia as she falls into Derek’s arms, his features fixed as he stares ahead though his knuckles flush white as he holds tightly onto Penelope. Rossi pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed as he mutters something to himself; a prayer, maybe. Spencer envelopes JJ in a desperate embrace, as if clinging to her will somehow make her words any less true. Afterall, how can they be? Emily can’t go down, not like this; not after all she’s survived.

Someone says your name. Your brow dips, but you don’t respond. You need to see Emily. Your feet move of their own accord, guiding you through the waiting room. Someone grabs your arm and you tug away from their grasp, set on pushing onward and finding the OR.

Someone repeats your name, and you can’t help but latch on to the deep tenor that belongs to Hotch. You halt in your tracks and close your eyes, tears leaking over your eyelids and down your cheeks.

“I need to talk to Emily,” you say, your voice small.

The way Hotch says your name is laced with pity and you hate the way it sounds on his tongue. He pulls gently on your arm in an attempt to reel you into him, but you resist. You bite your lip to still its trembling. Yanking your arm free, you press on into the hallway and stumble toward the double doors that read in bold letters: Authorized Personnel Only. Fuck that. You’ve got a badge, that’s authority enough. Before you can push through, firm hands twist around your arms.

You push back, but their grip tightens. “Stop,” Hotch urges authoritatively. You turn into him and pound your fist against his chest, a sob cracking free from your mouth. “She’s not gone,” you cry. “She’s not gone. She’s not—” Your legs tremble with the wave of grief that crashes over you and you can’t hold your weight as it does so. Falling to your knees, Hotch reacts. His arms fold around your waist, catching you as you collapse into the wide plane of his chest. Your ribs ache as your lungs inflate with each rapid, sobbing breath. Your vision turns fuzzy at the edges as you try and fail to slow your breathing. It feels like you’re dying as the waves of grief assail you over and over again, battering you, body and mind, in an unrelenting tumultuous current of sorrow and pain as the wicked reality sets in. Emily is dead. You barely feel Hotch’s hand in your hair cradling you against him. As he murmurs apologies and sympathies in your ear, you don’t see the weighted look he exchanges with JJ.

•

The funeral comes and goes. The day is too beautiful for Emily not to be there to see it. You sit on the porch at Hotch’s house, breathing in and out as you watch the daffodils dance in the afternoon breeze. You smooth the fabric of your dress down over your knees, the satin wrinkled from the way you clenched it during the service.

Your phone buzzes in your purse. The number of messages and phone calls you’d ignored continues to rise, but you can’t bring yourself to express any gratitude for their condolences. You can’t bring yourself to feel anything except the crushing weight of grief.

You picture Emily sitting beside you on the wooden porch swing. Last Summer, you’d sat here with her as the team gathered for a Fourth of July Barbecue. Jack had made invitations and delivered them to the team at the office. He’d been so excited and so were you. It was around then that you and Hotch had begun to toe the line between colleagues and something more; a morning coffee dropped off at your desk here, an extra visit to his office there. You’d sat here with Emily watching as Rossi backseat barbecued Hotch on the grill. She’d caught you smiling at him alongside the fondness in your gaze. She’d clocked you from a mile away.

“Oh, you’ve got it bad.” Her laugh had tinkled from lips, ringing like a morning bell.

“What are you talking about?” you’d asked, trying and failing to school your features into a mask of indifference.

“I’ll tell ya, it’s a big swing, but if you hit it, that’s a home run for sure.”

You’d nearly choked on your lemonade, coughing and gasping; drawing the attention of the others.

“Wrong pipe!” Emily had called while pointing at you and clapping a hand against your back. “She’s good!” In a low voice she’d added, “Though I’m sure with him, it’d be just the right pipe.”

You’d elbowed her in the ribs and bust out laughing together. For the longest time after that, she’d been the only person that you’d confided in about your burgeoning feelings and relationship with Aaron. Through that, she’d quickly become your closest friend on the team.

A couple of kids shout at one another, laughing, as they ride past the house on their bicycles; shattering the memory. You dip into your purse and withdraw your phone, pressing a button and powering it down. The screen door creaks on its hinges and Hotch steps down onto the porch, the planks shifting beneath his weight. He sits beside you and offers you a mug. The scent of coffee reaches your nose and you accept it, thanking him quietly. Aaron had taken his suit jacket off and loosened his tie. He stretches an arm around your shoulder and draws closer to you. He kisses the side of your face and stares out at the yard.

“It was a beautiful service,” he offers.

“Aaron, don’t.” You close your eyes and take a breath. You hold the coffee with both hands, rubbing your thumbs up and down the warm ceramic. “Please don’t make small talk with me about this like it’s all so fucking normal.”

He sighs and apologizes. “I just wish I could make all of your hurt go away.”

A shudder runs through you and you nestle in closer to him, taking a sip of your coffee as you do so. “I don’t think it’ll ever go away.”

•

Her brown eyes stare back at you, though the photo paper could never capture the light that flared within them when she was alive. Of all the faces you could have seen up on this wall, you’d never anticipated hers being one of them.

Every day you stop by her portrait on the wall of fallen heroes. People talk about her less and less around the office. The team doesn’t stop, though your conversations are stilted and often end in awkward silences; no one really knowing how to carry on once the conversation slows to a natural end. You speak often with Spencer about the ways in which you’ve been grieving, the sleepless nights and early mornings. Derek is reserved. He’s angry above anything else. He feels betrayed by Emily and a part of you understands that. She’d not told any of you after all. You’d be remiss if you’d not also spent some of your time grieving in anger. Of all the times you’d stayed late after work, gotten together to hang out on weekends, or gone out for drinks, she had never indicated anything was wrong. You had told her everything, confided every one of your fears and hopes into her and you’d thought that the street had been going both ways. God, you’d never been so wrong.

“Conference room in fifteen,” Aaron says as he walks past you, hand grazing your back as he does so.

You smile tightly and nod, glancing once more at Emily’s photo before making your way to your desk in the bullpen, ignoring the fact hers still sits empty and unoccupied beside yours. How has it been three months already?

•

“Emily!”

Your eyes dart around the room frantically searching as your heart thunders in your ears. You feel the organ pounding against your ribcage, threatening to break free of it. It only takes a second for you to realize it had been a dream.

Aaron rolls over and sits up, threading an arm around your back and rubbing your hip with his fingers. “Another nightmare?” he asks, words tinged with sleepiness.

You nod, yawning as you rub your eyes. The dreams are further apart, but at least every other week her face haunts your subconscious. You can’t help but wonder if it’s some sort of self-punishment as life goes on and the days get easier.

In reality, you don’t know if it’s easier or if you’ve just forced yourself to become numb to it all, compartmentalizing the pain of losing your best friend because if you didn’t you don’t think you’d be able to leave the house and do what you do day after day.

“Are the appointments with the therapist helping?” he asks.

Another question you don’t know the answer to. On some level, yes. Talking to someone who knows nothing about you or her or anyone else on the team is good. You don’t have to walk on eggshells, worried you're going to dig open a wound the others are equally fighting to heal by talking about her or how much you miss her or wish she was here. On another level, you don’t open up fully to the doctor. There are some layers of this injury you don’t want to see heal and scar over. If you do that, it’s like you’re telling Emily that you’re over her death, as if it’s something as easy as that, something you just get over. No, some things need to stay fresh, to serve as a reminder that Ian Doyle is still out there. The man who took your best friend away from you and your BAU family is breathing and she’s not. You clench your fists, the sheets balling up in your hands as your resentment burns deep inside you. Yes, that’s it, the idea of him walking around thinking he’s gotten away with this is enough to stoke the flames simmering deep inside you.

You take a deep breath, mentally imagining the flames subsiding, and they do. They dial down, but they don’t disappear. You glance down at Aaron, who snores softly beside you. His fingers still curl around your hip and a faint smile graces your lips. He tries, you know he does, but this is exhausting for everyone. He bears the brunt of it at the office. He fought to be the one to meet with the team and conduct the grief interviews, not wanting a stranger to come in and sift through your friends’ and colleagues’ pain over what happened. God knows how much bureaucratic red tape he had gotten tangled in right after the fact, the higher ups demanding how such a blunder could occur right under their noses. Aaron had put out the fires though, as he always did. Reaching around his back, you withdraw his hand from your hip and tuck it by his side, not before pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

You glance at the clock before lying back down. 4:15AM blinks back at you on the digital clock face. In forty five minutes the alarm will go off and it’ll be another day at the office. Settling down into the pillows, you press your back into Aaron’s body, yours molding against the planes of his as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

His arms slinks around your waist and pulls you in as if you can get any closer than you already are. He tucks his chin over your shoulder and his lips brush against your jawline.

“I love you,” he whispers and you relax into the safety of his embrace.

“I love you, too, Aaron.”

•

Nights are hard when Aaron is gone. Pakistan is nine hours ahead and all Hotch has to communicate with anyone is a satellite phone, the number for which you don’t have access to. Whenever Hotch calls, the caller ID flashes the word ‘Unknown’ across your screen. There have been several times you’ve missed him due to being asleep or at work. Each call missed feels like being sucker punched. Every time you talk, a part of you worries it’ll be the last time. You didn’t use to have this fear, not until Emily. Despite staring death in the face on a week by week basis, most of the time playing Russian Roulette with the Grim Reaper himself in each unsub you cross paths with, somehow you never thought he’d actually take someone you love from you; that he’d take down one of the team. You never thought there’d be a last conversation with Emily, and now she’s dead.

Dead. The word is a heavy stone, sinking from the cusps of your mind to the pit of your stomach. It sits there, a persistent ache idling deep inside of you. It never relents and it never allows you to forget.

There are nights you dream that Aaron is dead too, that somewhere far away and beyond your control, he’s dying on the ground, bleeding out, and no one knows. You don’t even know what he’s working on and he can’t say; despite your relationship there are still levels in which Hotch’s clearance supersedes your own and the need-to-know red tape keeps you out. Afraid to close your eyes and dream of his unseeing, you stare at the blades of the ceiling fan whirling lazily overhead of the bed you usually share with him.

“I miss you,” you whisper to no one; and you don’t know who you’re talking to anymore.

•

“He’s back?” your heart flutters in your chest, equal parts excited and anxious at the prospect of Aaron’s sudden return. You push off your desk and swivel in your chair to stand, rushing down the hall and leaving Reid behind as you make your way hastily to the conference room.

The door is cracked and a gleeful sound eeks past your lips as his tall frame comes into view. You slip in before anyone else arrives and throw your arms around you. Inhaling deeply, his familiar teakwood scent envelopes you just as his arms do. You move to pull away, but his arms tighten around you.

“A second more,” he whispers, and there’s an edge to his voice.

You write it off to jet lag and sink into his embrace, though you notice how slight he feels against you. Finally, you pull back and cup his face in your hands. The scruff of his beard is prickly and you laugh as you take in his rugged appearance. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with this much facial hair.” You swipe your thumbs over the hair on his lip and he tilts his head, kissing the inside of your hand. He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply before lifting them to meet yours. It's then you realize how tired he looks. The bags under his eyes are puffy and purple, almost as if they’re bruised. His forehead is creased, brow furrowed; definitely not how you pictured him upon reuniting.

“Aaron is everything ok—”

“I need you to know I would never hurt you,” he says quickly, interrupting you.

You purse your lips, brow pinching at the sudden admission. As your lips part to speak he directs a pointed look at you, the depths of his brown eyes wavering. “I love you,” his voice cracks, “so much.” He swallows, his throat bobbing as he does so. “Please remember that.”

There’s a hollow feeling in your gut, a chasm opening wide where every anxious and painful thought that you’ve tried to keep buried since he’s been gone begins to claw their way out as a thousand different outcomes play out in front of you. “Aaron, what’s going on?”

He doesn’t answer your question as the rest of the team trickles into the room, sitting at the round table or standing as suspense fills the space. It’s tangible. Everyone’s posture is rigid and tense in anticipation of whatever it is he has to say.

“Seven months ago I made a decision that impacted everyone on this team,” he begins, eyes firm.

Spencer shifts uncomfortably beside you. Rossi leans forward, fingers steepled under his chin.

“As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood,” Hotch continues and your ears prick at the sound of her name. Why would he bring her up? No less, her condition the day you all lost her. You all know this.

“…the doctor’s were able to stabilize her.”

Your lips part but no sound comes out as you raise your eyes to meet his. They meet yours for the briefest of seconds before flitting on to the others.The next words to leave his mouth sound far away, interrupted by the blood now pounding in your eardrums. “She stayed there until she was well enough to travel…given identities…”

There’s a lump in your throat and you feel as though you may choke on it. Air doesn’t seem to be able to bypass it and you have to remind yourself that you can breathe even though it feels like all the oxygen has vacated your lungs.

Penelope is the first to speak. “She’s alive?”

Spencer’s brow quirks as he tries to rationalize what’s being said to him. “We buried her.”

You did. You helped carry the casket. You felt the weight of her dead body and watched it sink into the earth. If that wasn’t her, what the fuck or who the fuck did you actually put in the ground?”

“As I said I take full responsibility for this decision,” Hotch continues, eyes downcast. “If anyone has any issues they should be directed towards me.”

The blood pounding in your ears is deafening. When Hotch looks up, you search his eyes and can’t help wondering if you know him at all. All of the nights you literally made yourself sick from crying and he held your hair back as you dry heaved over the toilet and your body spasmed from the grief of losing your best friend, he’d known that she was alive. For a moment, you think you may be sick right there at the round table at the thought of it all. Derek is speaking, his voice tight with anger but you don’t hear him. Heads turn and the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as a haunting feeling creeps up the back of your spine.

Turning around in your chair, everyone else stands but not you. If you do, you know your knees will buckle and fall out from under you. Spencer and Penelope are on their feet, moving briskly to greet the ghost of Emily.

Except she’s not a ghost. Her skin is not the cold blue-gray pallor of death, but pink and bright, the blood beneath her flesh very much pumping through a heart that’s beating. Her dark brown hair is sleek and shining, her bangs grown out and styled; her part now to the right. You watch her arms fold around Spencer and the way he squeezes her in turn. Penelope follows suit, tears streaming down her cheeks as she smiles widely. Derek stares on, features fixed in a cross between anger and shock. Emily approaches him with apprehension. An apology leaves her lips as she draws him in for a hug and his arms tentatively wrap around her. When she turns to you, your muscles tense. Those deep brown irises flicker back and forth across your face, searching for a reaction. You don’t give her one. Instead, you push past her, avoiding any and all physical contact with her, and dip out of the conference room.

You hear Garcia call your name and Derek shouts about having a case. You don’t care. You bypass your desk, not even bothering to get your purse. Your keys are hanging on a carabiner on your belt loop. Ignoring the elevator, you shove your way through the entrance to the stairs and move down them so quickly you’re surprised you don’t lose your footing and tumble down them. Down and around you go, your footsteps echoing as your heart slams against your ribcage. You slap your badge against the keypad that lets you exit the building, ignoring the greeting from the security guard at the front. As you push through the front doors of the office building, you barely make it to the bushes before you fall to your knees and retch.

•

A car door slams followed by the double beep which locks them. You close your eyes and inhale deeply as you prepare to face him, hands clenching around the sweater you were packing. A tear slips free from your eye as you breathe out and look toward the ceiling, as if the answers to why all of this had to happen are written up there. This is not how your reunion is supposed to be. You’d pictured his homecoming for weeks; thought about the outfit you’d wear to dinner and the lingerie you’d bought to wear just for him when you both got home, opened a bottle of wine, and made up for all of the time lost while he was away. That is how tonight is supposed to go.

Now you’re leaving, and you don’t know if you’ll be coming back.

The lock on the front door jiggles before the gears click into place. It squeaks on its hinges as it swings open. Five beeps follow and you can picture his fingers pressing against each button on the alarm system. His keys clatter as he drops them on the table. As his footsteps edge closer to your bedroom, you count each one. The sound that usually means safety and security, now sends a shiver of anxiety throughout your body.

He appears in the doorway, eyes rife with exhaustion and the bags beneath them puffy and swollen. His cheeks are flushed and his nose is pink, as if he’d been crying. Maybe he had been, god knows you had. His eyes flit between you and the bag you’re packing. His lips part and a small sound of desperation slips past them.

“Baby, please—”

You hold up a hand, curling your fingers into a fist. Your lip curls as you speak. “Don’t,” you breathe. You swallow the lump that quickly forms in your throat as you drop your hand, zipping the bag shut.

The inner corners of his brow draw upward and you can hardly stand to look into his pleading gaze.

“You have to understand—”

“Understand, what? Aaron?” You ask sharply, struggling to hold back the thick hot tears pricking the backs of your eyes.

He places a hand on his hip, fingers tucking back the fold of his unbuttoned shirt as his thumb hooks into his belt; a gesture you’re all too familiar with as he does the same thing with all of his suits. His other hand rises to pinch the bridge of his nose. He pauses, inhaling as he tries to find the words. After a moment, he scrubs a hand over his face and turns his gaze to yours.

“I wanted to tell you so badly,” he says. When he looks at you there are tears in his eyes. “I hated myself, watching the agony this decision put you and the team through. I wanted to tell you and take away your hurt, but I couldn’t. It wouldn’t have been fair to the team. Just because you’re my girlfriend, I can’t—” He turns his hand and slams his hand against the doorframe causing you to flinch. “Dammit!”

Your voice is soft, but sure when you speak. “You can’t bend the rules.”

It’s what you’ve always worried about, both of you. You always knew the job could come first, especially with him being the Unit Chief. You always understood that that meant no preferential treatment and that is something you never would’ve asked him to do. You just never anticipated it happening like this, a complete and total life altering mind fuck.

Aaron drops his hand and it slaps against his thigh in defeat as it falls to his side. “What was I supposed to do?”

You cross your arms over your chest, fingers curling over your biceps to try and still your shaking hair. You hang your head and a curtain of hair falls across your face, “I don’t know, Aaron.”

He kicks off the doorway, moving towards you with his hands outstretched. It happens without thinking, the way you flinch away. Pain flashes in his eyes and you feel as though you’ve been punched in the stomach the way it’s suddenly hard to breathe.

His hip is close to yours, his body angled away from you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your shoulder as he looks down. “Don’t do this,” he whispers.

Your lip quivers, chin wobbling in response to the tears you’re trying so desperately to hold back. “I have vacation I’d been saving.” You pick up your bag and throw it over your shoulder, not daring to look up at him because you know if you do you’ll shatter into a thousand shards of glass at his feet.

As you move toward the door, you pause. For a split second, you entertain the thought of dropping your bag, running across the room he’d chased you around so many times before, and throwing yourself around him. You consider all the things you want to say and scream and cry about; all of your anger, sadness, betrayal, grief, and love. You crave him so terribly in that moment because his have always been the arms you’ve run to when things become too much to bear.

Instead, your chin dips toward your shoulder as you speak, but you don’t raise your eyes to meet his. If you do, you don’t think you’ll be able to leave. “My gun and badge are in the safe.”

As you make your way down the hallway, you have to bite your knuckles to stifle a sob just as you hear one leave his lips from the bedroom.

You don’t turn back.

[juliet-without-romeo-stuff]

You're such a tease.

Nikolai sokolov loves everything Brandon king does..but there is something Brandon do that will be the death of nikolai .somedays before Nikolai literally begged Brandon to wear an harness and that truly became his fav thing.

whenever brandon wear harness for him. He becomes uncontrollable. But Brandon loves the idea of killing nikolai by wearing it in some places under his posh boy clothes just to tease Nikolai.He won't tell nikolai about what he is wearing underneath but sometimes he will just make sure to show a little bit of the straps that too in times like only nikolai can see and act all innocent afterwards whereas nikolai situation is unexplainable. Mostly Brandon does it when he wants full attention of nikolai or whenever they are going to a clubs and parties where nikolai's ex bedmates will be there , Brandon can't avoid it since Nikolai literally fucked three fourth of the population of the island and its something he isn't proud about. His libido is no joke .

Where in one situation When The whole bratva had an together party which every bratva members has to attend with their partners . But at that time Nikolai and brandon had an argument over something useless for which bran felt the urge to punish nikolai in most logical way .after many thoughts since he never imagined doing this at such an dangerous place that to among mafia peoples , he wore a harness that too he bought recently since this one has lot of starps and also has straps on his thigh too but he bought it without niko knowing and succeeded in hiding that . He thought he would just show it to nikolai someother day and the rest is upto him but nikolai is unlucky (no he isn't) this was the time to use this and he made sure to take some pictures with only wearing that harness and nothing underneath and also some with pants while the harness covers his upper body it was well fitted to his body proportions and was fantastically gorgeous.He knows niko gonna suffer alot.

Nikolai was already at the party cause he and jeremy volkov were the one arranging and hold responsible for that.When Brandon and cecily knight reached the venue.He met Nikolai and jeremy looking so fucking hot in that black suits that shows how much power they hold in this field. Even though Nikolai is an gentleman and has all golden retriever traits only with him But Mafia Nikolai sokolav is his weakness and most dangerous person to ever mess with .After sometime when the party started and all the important peoples,officers and other mafia gangs were there.jeremy and Nikolai was in meeting with the other mafia peoples he thinks judging by their serious facial expressions and that thick russian accent and russian language which he understands nothing. Brandon knows some words in russian because nikolai's vocals during thier physical intimacy was mostly in russian words from praising him to say some dirty stuffs ,he can't handle the curiosity and sometime ask him to tell the meanings and sometime translate it in his mobile later. He decides he should send the photos later since Nikolai was busy but you know what god isn't in favor of nikolai cause there he is speaking with Mr.Carmichael member of the east russian mafia, an assassin and gay but that's not the problem to him. The actual problem is that he is the one openly claims that he has an interest in Nikolai even though he knows that Nikolai is engaged and he isn't happy about it.Though Nikolai said that don't take him srly he had this infatuation even before they met and he only wants him, but that didn't change the fact that man was was near his fiance and having this eyes of lust.Then he did what he wants he sents those pictures to Nikolai with a smirk on his lips while sitting the couch with cecily and chit chatting while sipping his wine. Nikolai saw that in less than 1 minute and he didn't get any respond for next 5 mins which make Brandon smirks go wider.He knows that Nikolai is searching him and their eyes met for a minutes and Nikolai raised his one eyebrow that clearly a gesture shows he is impressed.....

When the meeting was ended within less than 10 minutes and he knows without even searching a Beast is walking towards him but fortunately Nikolai can't drag Brandon to the rooms or bathrooms to discuss about his new adventure and its causes ...........They had to meet all the peoples and gang members and higher officials. since everyone felt that brandon and Nikolai are the exact meaning of A BEAST AND HIS BEAUTY and Nikolai's fellow mates always says that an Gangster married an prince .whenever any peoples got to know about Nikolai sokolav went exclusive and is engaged to an man that too none other than the WORLDS SENSATIONAL ARTIST BRANDON KING they all get truly suprised.They never taught even in their wildest dreams that Nikolai will go exclusive and that too in an monogamous relationship considering Nikolai himself told that he isn't an mono relationship person . clearly that everyone in bratva knows Brandon and brandon also try his best level to gets along with these peoples which brandon never thought he will.

But Nikolai and jeremy created an business man image and owns some business to hide the mafia things .even before they officially declares there relationship publicly. somepeoples who saws Brandon and Nikolai together spreads things about them dating or its just an casual hook up and well they response was truly positive not that brandon king cares but the die heart fans of Businessman Nikolai sokolov was different case.later In one of the Fans with their artist interview when an Fan of Brandon art ask him about his relationship status , Brandon said," Actually am Engaged *shows his engagement ring *and going to get married soon. When later some fans asked him teasingly If he will go on a date with them for which he smiled and said with a teasing smile,"I don't think Nikolai will like it though" and that confirms that the rumors are true and they are in an relationship for almost 4 years now.

When he came out some peoples asked him whether he is gay or bisexual but turns out that he is an demisexual and it took him sometime to accept and get comfortable with it and he only understands about his sexuality in his therapy sessions.( Lets just say he is nikosexual)

When speaking with everyone in the party Brandon can feel Niko's hands were roaming on his body and definitely feeling the straps and trying his best to control kolya and his tight grip on his waist along with his piercing gaze that screams he truly gonna be wrecked tonight .

Lets just say they left early or morelike Nikolai dragged Brandon earlier to home and they had fuckfest which is Nikolai fav time of the day ended up the next day Brandon can't even move a limb and Nikolai take very good care of Brandon.

Notification: Nikolai sokolav posted an picture.

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Caption: He is such a tease @brankng.

[brucewaynehater101]

So there's a fic that I think you will like. It's called The Definition of Valor by Nerdpoe. Really short, spoiler free summery. Instead of loosing his Spleen, Tim looses his eyes. He makes special gadgets to help him with this, such as a device in is cowl that scans the room he is in and tells him what is where via coded sounds, like say, two low A notes followed by a chirp means there is a wooden desk to the north east of him. He also makes a special computer program for his grapple so when he points it somewhere, it will adjust his aim so he never misses and always attaches to a good spot.

This fic is giving me *so many* thoughts about the potential fall out of this being found out not as soon as Tim gets back to Gothem because he never tells anyone. Specifically it's making me think about Tim who is Bruce's dad not telling Bruce because he doesn't want to worry his son. He doesn't want to worry his grandchildren/siblings either so he puts in colored contacts and wears glasses when his cowl isn't on. The glasses and an ear piece have the same tech as his cowl to tell him where everything is.

How long would it take them to find out? Tim would never tell them, so do they find out on accident because Tim forgot the contacts that are his normal eye color, or because Ras is mad at Tim and tells them what Ras did to Tim? Maybe he got to mad and while ranting at a Rouge (either Harley or Two Face would be especially funny if he's just been hanging upside down and ranting and raving fo 30 minuets already) over one of their traps, he accidentally lets slip that he's blind, or maybe he yells at Riddler, "Nygma, this isn't fair! I've been completely blind since last July and my usual tech that tells me what's around me is getting fucked by your signal jammer! So either read the riddle to me out loud or let me go!" and then later Riddler scolds one of the other Bats for letting the blind one do the visual puzzles much to their confusion.

Hi!!! I love that fic so much! Have you seen the sequel for it as well? It's short, but a great read. I would die for more of this concept.

In that fic, Bruce turns out to be a good dad. While I may hate Bruce, the way that guy handles the situation in that fic is fantastic.

However, I would like a fic where this concept gets a delayed reveal. In the AU, Tim figures out how to function without his eyes.

He engineers technology to read people's facial expression/body language to help him out. It reads words for him, etc.

I wonder what excuse he'd give for wearing the earpiece and glasses all the time. Maybe he says it's another aspect to separate Timothy Drake from Red Robin?

Just Tim gaslighting and girlbossing his way into pretending he can still see. I kind of want him to keep up the ruse for a long while.

When he does get found it, it'd be hilarious if the others forget he's blind. Tim has engineered technology to assist him, but he still can't see. So they'll try to take him to activities they did together when he could see (like star gazing) or they'll ask him what he thinks of the color of their outfit. He also ruthlessly uses his blindness as an excuse to mess with people. If Timothy Drake-Wayne is known to be blind, he'll use it to accuse Luthor of being ableist at every chance he'll get. He also bullies the shit out of governmental agents and companies that don't provide accommodations.

I'm also a fan of Riddler finding out about it, but him just changing his puzzles to be accommodating. I'm biased towards Riddler (I love him so much) so it'd be cool to see the silent show of support like that.

Another AU idea: When Tim blows up Ra's bases, the explosions cause him to become deaf or hard-of-hearing.

Dealer's choice on how much hearing he loses, but I feel like this could be great to explore deafness and misconceptions commonly held in our society.

Tim would probably already know how to sign and lip read (might even know multiple different sign languages), but he would face a few difficulties.

He chooses not to disclose his hearing loss

People often cover their mouths or face away from someone when speaking (which makes lip reading arduous)

Ableist people suck

The world is set up for hearing people, so a lot of issues stem from a lack of accommodations rather than Tim's ability to hear

Tim chose not to tell anyone about the change in hearing for a few reasons: he doesn't trust anyone (especially during his adjustment period) and he doesn't want to be underestimated (wants to prove himself in the field before they try to pull him from it).

As far as technology to help him, the comms were easier to program than other auditory inputs. Since they were designed to transmit clear voices, he merely has to train a program to automatically close caption whatever is spoken (the automatic ones used today are useful, but still make too many errors for Tim's preference. Some also only do words automatically and leave out helpful information like laughing, choking, screaming, computer dings, etc.). Each Bat member has their own designated color. For those he doesn't interact with often, it says their name before every time they speak up.

Tim incorporates the visual overlay into his goggles and glasses. He can read what people contribute to the conversation based on that. It also leaves his hands free so he doesn't need to look down. His wrist computer stores records of what has been said so Tim can go back over it if he misses it. He also has the ability to change where the words appear on his field of vision.

I also hc Alfred is the first to notice that Tim is staring intently at his lips when he talks and has difficulties with the conversation when Alfred changes the way he pronounces words or isn't facing Tim (this is before Tim's tech gets perfected). From then on, Alfred makes a point of facing Tim whenever the teen is in the room. They both don't talk about it until the rest of the family finds out (however long that takes).

Feel free to add more to either AU!

[hotvintagepoll]

Harpo Marx (Night at the Opera, Night in Casablanca, Duck Soup)—While Groucho is better-known, Harpo's physical comedy is SECOND-TO-NONE. The man is a strange mime trapped in the paradigm of early 20th century movies. Every move is a symphony and simultaneously a colony of rats in a human skin suit. LISTEN. You MUST see this man in motion. Every still photo of him looks like a combination of a sad clown and a different, sadder clown, but it's only because he put so much joy in every motion.

Katharine Hepburn (Sylvia Scarlett)— Look, I get that thee Katharine Hepburn might not be the first pick for scrungly little guy, but I deeply believe that she was a scrungly little guy trapped in the body of an astonishingly beautiful woman and that she was clearly having the most fun when she got to show her scrungly side. Additional propaganda: This post [link]

This is round 2 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you’re confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Harpo Marx:

He's like if a clown was a hobo was also somehow a classically trained harpist, his face is always in some kind of contorted silly shape, feral curly haired ninnymuggins always doing weird things to people  

Harpo is mute in all of the Marx Bros movies and so his body language and facial expressions are SO over the top but he's also got fewer braincells than a goldfish while often being the emotional heart of the Marx Bros and he's just A Guy!!

Every scene with Harpo Marx is a treat! Just like watching a seagull steal a stranger's hotdog at the beach, it is a joy to watch him frustrate the hell out of all the other films' characters! Harpo Marx is the zenith of unhinged in all of his appearances, making any other funny man a straight man by comparison. (A fantastic feat considering he starred in films with his brothers Grouch and Harpo, who sported a shoe polish mustache and questionable Italian accent, respectively). The scrungliness of the little guys he plays come from his guileless, wide-eyed expression, curly blond wig, and the extreme ability to annoy others, despite never saying a word. Is he malicious? Most definitely, but hard to tell because he has a dopey grin on his face most of the time. Communicating through other sounds like honking horns and whistling, he is a force of chaos in every Marx brothers film! Also an accomplished harp player, the beautiful calm moments where Harpo plays juxtapose the zany, making him all the more scrungly. His visual style of comedy is timeless; Duck Soup had me rolling with laughter as a six year old and is still just as funny today.

In my opinion Harpo is the funniest of the Marx brothers because he is so good at slapstick comedy. Since he never speaks in his film appearances his performances are very physical, which contributes a lot to his scrungliness. He was fully committed to being wacky at all times. All of his hilarity is based on him being weird.

He's just a weird little guy who causes chaos everywhere he goes, and then sits down and plays a beautiful harp solo! He steals the show from his very chatty brothers without saying a word, and was surprisingly ripped under that old raincoat

All of the Marx Brothers are Scrungly to a degree, but Harpo is the scrungliest! His outfits are so big he gets lost in them, his pockets are full of everything, and because he never speaks, he always uses physical comedy. Also he's an incredible musician.

Katharine Hepburn:

[sleepingdeath-light]

how he confesses to his s/o hcs ; fyodor dostoevsky

requested by ; anonymous (event)

fandom(s) ; bungou stray dogs

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; fyodor dostoevsky

outline ; “hi hi for your 4.4k event can i request how undertaker, choso and fyodor would confess to reader ^^ congrats on the milestone btw!! (*^ω^*)”

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

first thing’s first but it is going to take fyodor quite a while to come to terms with the fact that he has feelings for you — that’s not to say he’s oblivious to his own emotions or wilfully ignorant of how his mind and body react to your presence, just that he’s not going to act impulsively on what may be just a fleeting infatuation and, instead, will give himself plenty of time to consider his feelings and, if he comes to the conclusion that he wants to act on them, to plan how he intends to woo you

… or, rather, how he intends to get you to confess to him because it’s fyodor and there’s a snowball’s chance in hell of him ever letting himself be vulnerable in front of anyone

even the person he plans to marry one day

and unless you know fyodor incredibly well and are incredibly good at reading the most minute changes in his facial expressions and body language (unlikely unless you’re actually dazai or at the very least extremely similar to him), it’s damn near impossible for you to tell that his feelings for you go beyond an appreciation for your work ethic and contribution to the d.o.a, meaning he has plenty of time to go through with his planning and such without anyone suspecting a thing

(outside of maybe a bit of teasing from nikolai, but after spending more than a few consecutive minutes around him it’s easy to tune out the utter nonsense he says as white noise — or, for you, to dismiss it as his usual weird teasing)

now, moving onto the whole confession thing itself because, in typical dostoevsky fashion, he ends up settling on a whole convoluted plan to get what (who) he wants

the first phase of his plan involves a lot of research (stalking, really) so that he can learn everything there is to know about you (likes/dislikes, allergies, relationships, routine, medical history, hobbies, exes, etc.) — both so that he’s able to present a version of himself to you that you’re sure to find impressive and attractive, and to reaffirm to himself that his feelings for you are real and unshakeable and not based on some false version of you he created in his head, for example

then he starts to shift around your schedule so that you’re spending more time in his company, incrementally increasing his one-on-one interactions with you until you’re so comfortable around him that you’re confident enough to question him on his methods and engage in actual conversations with him — setting the stage very effectively for the two of you to be able to have a relationship as equal partners in the future (he wants to take you as a lover, a spouse, not as another unquestioning devotee like ivan)

after that it takes a few months for the two of you to go from colleagues to somewhat friendly to actual friends, and even longer for him to start noticing signs that point to you developing actual romantic feelings for him (which, naturally, occurs before you realise you have a crush on him yourself), but fyodor is a remarkably patient man who has nothing but time on his hands so he doesn’t mind the wait

but being patient doesn’t mean that he’s above teasing you here and there both because fyodor is kind of an asshole who likes to see you flustered, and because he is, after all, trying to get you to confess your feelings to him so that he doesn’t have to do the whole ‘being vulnerable’ thing — so, yeah, expect to spend however long being teased by your boss until you finally crack and say those sweet little words that you’ve been swallowing back for weeks

and once you finally, finally, confess he will be quick to reciprocate with a brief but shockingly heartfelt ‘and i, you’ before pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles and asking you out on a date that he knows for certain you’ll love (because of all the stalking research he did)

(the more traditionally romantic declarations of love can wait until after your first date)

[georgiapeach30513]

Your Mark On Me, Part 13

Summary: Steve softens and submits

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, bit of a chase kink, teasing, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, bathtime fun, D/s dynamics, breeding kink, bit of voyeurism, mean!Steve, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.9K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

*edit by @nixakimbo

You give a final smile to Bucky and Shy, and hug to your former guard. Making sure to kneel down to rub on Shy’s belly, leaning to give the bump a kiss, “You take care of your mama, little Ember. I can’t wait to hold you. Thank you for a lovely day,” you stand back up, giving Shy another hug. “Your home is lovely.”

And with that Steve nods a head to both Bucky and Shy, leading you out to the car where he opens the door up for you. He can be sweet when he wants to. When he isn’t so brooding and all business. Trying to be create a persona that is quite different to the man you were starting to learn. Days like this made you realize that there is a lot more to Steve than meets the eye. He could be soft. Just with the right people.

You suppose that is probably the safest thing to do, be cautious. For him. You just loved people, and wanted them to know. Everyone needed words of confirmation from time to time. “She looks adorable pregnant.”

“So will you,” he answers, giving you a soft smile. He could be a bit confusing with his personality. Today you are getting the sweet Steve. It had to have been seeing Bucky again. Bucky leaving Steve’s business for good seems to have affected him. He realizes how things have shifted.

“Are you sad?” He keeps his eyes on the road, and his Adam’s apple bobs while he searches for the right words.

“That you have an IUD? Of course. But I’ll let you decide when I get to fill you full of me,” you roll your eyes as your hand naturally falls into his. He is so silly. Always going back to that, and not at all what you are thinking about.

”I meant about Bucky choosing Shy over…the business,” you hesitate to say over Steve. he didn’t necessarily choose Shy over him. But in a way he did. Bucky found something more important to him than what he had been doing for years. More important than being in the business with his best friend. The business risk didn’t outweigh his love for his fiance and future family.

Steve goes silent. His sharp eyes look out in front of the car, but never respond. It hurts him too much to think that Bucky would never be a part of this world for him. “I mean, having a child is a huge responsibility. It seems like Shy makes enough money to keep them afloat. And he seems to really be right at home with her. And their kitty. We should probably get a pet. I bet it was nice for her to have a pet when Bucky was out at odd hours of the night. Especially when he was with me. Heaven knows that man has seen so much of my body, and just what you do to me. Do you think she was ever jealous of that? Have you met Shy before today? Wait, no you said that was your first time meeting her. Bucky must really love her to want to protect her from your life.”

”Dovey,” his thumb draws shapes on your hand, and you turn to look at him. He is haunted about something. About his thoughts that never left him. There is no telling the things that he has seen in this life. “Baby, you need to breathe.”

“Where are you taking me?” This isn’t the way home. “Are we going out?” he shakes his head no, and you look at him with a pout. The facial expression does get a huff of a laugh. “Steve!”

“Does this road not look familiar?” No. It didn’t. But clearly it is supposed to. You sigh, waiting on him to hopefully answer. Your body leans more into him. Letting his warmth encapsulate your nerves. Trying to think of when you had been here, and then there is something that looks familiar.

“But…where is everything else?” It is the playground. Before there were swings, slides, monkey bars, but now the only thing left standing is the bars that Steve had set you on. “Steve?”

“I held onto this place for a long time,” he places the car into park, and while you give him your full attention, he just gazes out at the almost empty park. “I met her here for the first time,” he is taking way too long to tell a story, but for the sake of him not getting pissy at you, you wait on him. Even if you feel a pang of jealousy with the simple word of her.

“She was beautiful. I hadn’t fully grown into my body yet, but she still saw me. I told you I was bullied here, but I was slowly turning it into a drop off. It was overgrown, and kids didn’t come here anymore. But Peggy did. She stayed a bit too far away. Watching. Always watching me. I got a bit cocky, and came by more often. Bought the land, so it was my private property. Employed Bucky and Sam. And I kept getting bigger, and finally she came and talked to me.”

You don’t even know Peggy, but you hate her. It isn’t even jealousy, okay maybe a little bit. But it is mostly due to the fact there’s something so off in her behavior. She just watched him for months?

“She was a simple girl, just wanted some weed. And came by regularly to get it. And then I got the courage to ask her out. We were inseparable. I fell so hard, and so fast. I was telling that woman I loved her everyday. Bucky and Sam kept telling me there was something off with her. She didn't want to move in, but she stayed at my house a lot. Didn’t seem to have a job, but I kept her up anyways. And then — fuck,” he slams his hand onto the steering wheel, leaving you without his warmth.

“A squad came barging into my house throwing shit all around, and what do you know, Peggy was the one leading them. She’d lied the whole time. Undercover for what she felt was the next up and coming drug ring. Sam and Bucky were right, and smarter than that bitch. They cleaned out my house the night before. She was the one that shoved me to the floor, got me in a submissive position on my knees and demanded for me to tell her where the drugs were. I just smiled up at her. I spent a few weeks in jail. And come to find out later she actually is dating Rumlow. Maybe she’s going to bust him, too. Maybe she actually loves him, I don’t know. But I’ve never trusted another woman. Nor been put in that position again.”

It's your turn to go silent. You hated that bitch. How dare she even touch Steve. She got all that with him. All the love and words, and before you. It shouldn’t matter, but she broke him. And the realization of him holding her actions over you. She made him not trust women so much that he couldn’t even be honest with you.

”Until you,” your head slowly turns to look at him, and he’s never seemed so torn. His eyes are glossy, and face solemn, and all you want to do is hold him. “I got on my knees for you. I have left you in my home alone. I have entertained you for months, and I’ve done everything I said that I would never do again, and it’s all been for you. I can’t — Dovey, I’m sorry, I can't say those words you deserve to hear.”

You let out an air of breath that you aren’t aware you were holding, as you search his face. He is being as candid as he can, and his hurt from being used, and lied to still lingers. But he said you deserve to hear the words.

“Steve, I told you it was enough. I will hear those words from you, but what’s more important I feel those words from you. I see them. I didn’t know about what she did to you, but I know that every time you drop to your knees to put my shoes on, it is something that isn’t easy for you, and you’ve given that to me more than once.”

“All that I told her should have been for you.”

“It will be,” your hand cups his cheek, and you place a kiss on his face. Kissing away the single tear that rolls past his lash line. She might have gotten the words, but you get the actions. “Why did you have everything from the playground removed?”

“I didn’t,” his lips turn up into a smile, but he doesn't dare to look out at the former park. His dark lashes splay across his cheeks, keeping his eyes closed, choosing to feel this moment instead of just seeing it. “That piece of equipment doesn’t look familiar? That is the first place that I stared at the face of God. It holds a special meaning to me,” you roll your eyes, attempting to turn away from his silly self when he grabs at your face. Hand on your jaw, making you look at him. His fingers are steady but not too harsh.

His eyes open slowly, and you stare at his perfectly imperfect blue eyes with their bit of green lacing through the crystal blue, “Don’t look away from me when I’m talking to you, and being sweet.”

“You’re talking about my pussy.”

Steve gives you a boop to your nose and a too innocent smile for him, “I think you mean my pussy. At least that’s what you tell me every time I fuck into you. Are you saying I don’t own this pussy anymore,” the hand holding onto your jaw falls in between your thighs, and cups your covered mound. “I do love that you wear skirts. Do you realize how easy it would be to move these panties over and…hey!”

He yells after you as you jump out of the car. Looking back at him with a playful grin. “If it’s your pussy, come and claim it!” Squealing you run away from the giant tattooed man that stomps after you. He doesn’t even have to run with his long strides. But you don’t stop.

Bobbing and weaving on the mostly empty lot. Looking back at him laughing carelessly, and you see the first genuine smile spread across his angelic face. If it wasn’t for his chiseled body covered in ink, he’d look almost boy-like. You’re glad he didn’t tattoo his face. But right now in this moment, you see him for the man he was before his harsh world crashed over him.

Crinkles at the edge of his eyes that you love to kiss. You wished you could see those lines more often. They did seem to be making an appearance more often now. His lines on his face told a story, much like the tattoos and scars that stained his skin.

He reaches out a hand to grab you, but you dodge his advance. Doing a quick twirl before you sprint away, and turn to look at him, “Is that the best you got, Rogers?”

“Now, you’ve gone too far. Take that back!” You’re almost tempted to call him that again.

“Never, daddy!” He growls, wrapping his hand around your wrist, but you slip away. “Stevie, you really are losing your touch. AHH!” You screech when both his arms wrap around you. He pulls you so tight against his body it takes your breath away. You struggle to get away, not wanting this playful Steve to disappear just yet.

Struggling so hard that the two of you slam onto the ground in a fit of giggles, “What was it that you called me, Dovey?”

“Captain,” laughing when he rolls his eyes, and shakes his head no.

“You’re such a liar,” he crows, his teeth nibbling on your neck. Playfully biting you, while demanding you admit the names you called him. “Tell me, baby,” his voice turns labored. The playful chase already over as you wiggle around in his embrace.

His thumb hooks under the elastic of your panties. And he starts to jerk down the cotton. Lifting you up a bit to fully remove them. Legs being pushed apart by his wide body, and you pull at his button, trying to release the monster cock that is straining in these jeans. “Tell me first, and I’ll give you everything you want.”

Pushing aside your hand, he pulls himself out. You yip at the sight of his pretty little piercing coated in beads of precum. Gripping the base of his cock he pumps himself a few times before rubbing his tip through your drenched center. His squishy head barely pushing through your entrance, “I called you Rogers,” his hips thrust forward, leaving you blinded by the intense and immediate stretch.

Vision is blurry. Like a filter had been laid over the world around you, and all you see is him. All you feel is his weight lowering over top of you, and his arms caging you. The cold grass tickling your backside. Senses on overdrive because he gave so much of himself to you today.

“I called you — daddy,” you scream out as he fucks into you so hard and deep his tip kisses the edge of your cervix. The one name he told you not to call him, and you would pay for your indiscretions in pleasure. You are now aware of how you haven’t fully taken all of Steve from the way he is filling you up. A perfect fit indeed as you revel in having him so purely. His hips piston him deeper into your warmth than he’s ever been. Branding you in a different way than before. This is just for you and him.

”Fuck,” Steve grouses, a hand slides up to your neck. Keeping his eyes on yours as he adds a bit of pressure. He is fighting off saying what he really wants to say. Using your body to work through his emotions. Never looking to where the two of you connect, keeping both eyes trained on you.

The softest whimper explodes out of his chest as he holds your gaze, “You’re my best friend.”

His words contradict his sharp thrusts inside of you. “You are. I trust so few, but I trust you…the most,” you preen at his words. Mewling out his name, and circling your legs around him. Allowing your body to take every part of him. Soft words with harsh movements have your body floating and unable to focus.

“I love…love spending every day with you. I don’t want to miss a day,” he is getting there. Slowly. But he is. And judging by the sparks going through your body, you’re also almost there.

“You’re my best friend, too, Captain. Now finish me,” he rams into you. Hitting you in all the right spots until your eyes go crossed, and you roll them into the back of your head. “Steve!” you scream out as your body begins to tremble. There is nothing but the two of you out here in the middle of nowhere where Steve changed your life. And now you are also changing his life.

“My pussy sure does feel good,” he smirks at you. His body slams into you, and your back skids across the ground in the most delightful pleasured pain. You owned him. He is yours. And you will do everything to protect him. This stunted man is now yours to protect. He could hide and deny it, but he is yours.

“Your pussy is only for you.”

“Good,” he growls as you arch your back into him. Bringing yourself close to him. Your body stiffens up. Everything builds to the climax. Looking deep into his beautiful eyes, he nods, “Let go, Dovey,” and everything crashes down around Steve. Your velvety walls cling tight to his thick girth, and his sticky heat fills you up.

He lets your body sink to the ground slowly, and he smirks down at you. “You’re so pretty like this. Fucked hard and dumb, and filled to the brim of…”

“Steve Rogers,” you coo. You’d let this man do whatever he wanted to you. He is powerful, scary, intimidating, but to you he’s just your Captain.

“Let’s go home, sweetie. You need a bath. You have leaves in your hair,” he picks out a leaf, holding it up to prove the mess he made. “Plus you smell like dirt. Come on,” he slowly pulls himself out of you, flicking his eyes down to look at your spread legs. “When can we take that thing out of you?”

“Steve! I have only been having sex for a couple of months. Give me at least a year.”

”I love it when you whine, but a full year?” You nod, going to stand up. Wincing as you reach for your panties he really was deep. Body wobbling, and Steve holds you upright, but still keeps your panties out of your reach, and you stomp your foot. “If I have to wait a year, you have to ride back home with no panties.”

”Steve, your cum…”

“Yes, the thought of my cum leaking out of your cunt is part of the appeal of this arrangement,” exhaling quickly, you start walking away from him. “Oh, cutie, you acting like a brat and seeing that run down your leg is turning me on again.”

“Wash me clean, and you can have your pussy again.”

”I wasn’t going to ask,” he gulps, continuing to watch you walk away. You have been the best thing that’s happened to him. The best part of him. “But I’ll always ask for permission, Dovey,” he whispers, knowing you won’t hear him. “Because I love…hearing you beg.”

Steve’s hands squeeze on your foot, and he sighs when you can’t control the sounds that hum out of your mouth. “You’re the one causing those sounds,” your brow cocks up as you stare at him over the bubbles. “Can you be here with me all the time?”

“If you’ll let me suck on your clit underwater.”

You stare at him both confused and shocked. No way was he going under the water for such a thing, nor did you want his face between your legs right now. He starts to move his body from across the tub, closer to you, and you shake your head no.

“Do you doubt my abilities?”

“Not at all. I know you’d die in between my thighs and think it was the best death in the world. But I’d rather you not die,” or have him be where he was wanting his face be.

He blinks once slowly before getting even closer. Looking more like a predator than your boyfriend, “Steve, no!”

“Then sit on the ledge of the bathtub.”

“I’ll get cold.”

“Then dry off and I’ll feast on my pussy in the bed.”

“Can you give me a few more moments in here? Alone?” " He shakes his head no. “Why not?”

“Why the fuck do you want to stay in the tub?” Because you needed to. Did he not get you needed private time sometimes?

“I have something I need to do, and I don’t want you in here,” pursing his lips, he narrows his eyes while watching you. Making you uncomfortable with how hard he’s staring at you. “Stop! Get out, and give me just a moment.”

“What do you need to do that I can’t see?”

“Seriously?” He scoots a bit closer to you, and you push your foot up against his chest, holding him in place. All the while knowing that this would not keep him away from you, “What are you doing?”

“Going to suck on your clit,” like it is the most obvious answer in the world. Shaking your head no, Steve sighs. “You know I could lift you up and make you do whatever I want you to, so why don’t you explain to me what the problem is, and why you don’t want me to touch you right now?”

You take a long look at Steve, sighing before looking down at the bubbles. Steve had done so much to break down your walls. He had made you a completely different person, a stronger person. He had turned your world upside down. Had just been inside of you, but you don’t want his face down there.

“Dovey?”

“I need to shave,” Steve scoffs, trying to push his body towards you. “Steve, stop. I don’t want your face there.”

“Does it look like I care about a little bit of hair. Let me suck your clit.”

“No.”

“Even though you’re pissing me off, I do think I have found the perfect woman. Because you, my darling, don’t put up with my bullshit. How does it feel to be the only woman that has ever tamed Steve Rogers? Don’t,” the timbre of his voice lowers when you cross your arms across your chest.

He stares deep into your eyes as he gets a bit closer to you. Gaze never leaves yours, but he uses a hand to cup your mound. His fingers roll over your entrance as he tilts his head watching you, “It’s not that bad.”

“It is to me, and I haven’t even found the energy to get away from you to shave.”

“Since I’m such a menace to you, let me shave you,” it is a simple statement and said so easily, but the audacity of this man.

“No.”

“You’re being a brat.”

“It’s one of your favorite things about me.”

“I’m a bigger fan of my pussy. Let me shave you. I’ll get it how you like it because frankly, I don’t get a damn. But I also get to see the face of god,” he’s relentless. Ridiculous even. A menace for you. And the way his eyes flick all over your face, and he never once pushes past your entrance, just lazily taps his fingers on it. “It will be so fucking sexy.”

You’re doubtful of that. You also don’t trust that Steve won’t try to devour you, regardless of what you want. “I want to do it, Dove. I will bow down before you and shave every inch of you if that is what you want. I want to be in every part of your life. Even the parts that you find embarrassing. Because all I know is I get to spend even more time with my favorite girl. Please, Dovey. I’m begging you, please, let me shave your pussy.”

“I’ve never done this before,” you sigh, biting at your lip.

“Neither have I. You get another one of my firsts. Just…just sit on the edge of the tub. I’ll be careful,” he wouldn’t stop until you give him what he wants. And there’s something adorably sexy about him wanting to take care of you in the most intimate and simple way. You want him to.

Taking a deep breath you lift yourself onto the side of the tub. Spreading your legs slowly as Steve’s face beams up at you as his eyes drift all over your body. Watching as the suds coast down your soft curves. Consuming you with his eyes alone.

“This is not that bad. But let me take care of you,” he reaches for the razor and runs a smooth hand over your mound. His thumb teases along your clit, and you can’t help but whimper out his name. “Shh, don’t make that sound just yet, Dovey,” sudding up some soap, he spreads it over your skin. Making sure to coat every bit of your exposed skin with the foam, and his hands expertly move the razor over your supple body. Making sure to clean it after every pass.

Even though you know it is killing him, he never makes a lewd joke. He doesn’t slip a finger in, it’s like this is his job. It’s fascinating to watch him. He keeps looking up at you through those inky black lashes making sure you're grading his work. And when he’s not looking at you, his tongue pushes out the front of his mouth in concentration, and you commit this moment to your memory. He looks adorable.

He always does wheng a he’s not trying to be this hard drug lord. There’s a sweetness, and a loyalty to him. This need to control, but also a need to protect and take care of you. You position yourself to lean back more, and he growls, rolling his eyes to look up at you. “This isn’t funny. You’re already torturing me.”

“I enjoy the view,” this big bad drug lord was down on his knees, and just for you. Towering above you, or bowing before you. Submissive only for you, or your fearless dominating Captain. He was all yours.

“You’re a fucking tease, too,” Steve’s hand drops into the water, giving you a clear view of his hard and angry cock under the water. “You’re killing me.”

“I enjoy you from this angle.”

“You enjoy me worshiping you right at the face of god. You’re a sweet little tease. Has her pussy spread out deliciously before me, and making me shave you. Dove, the water isn’t fooling anyone,” you hum as he lets water drip over your body, washing away the remaining bubbles before he spreads your puffy lips out. Keeping you wide open before looking up at you.

“You’re dripping. Coated in that sweet honey because all you can think about is me fucking into you so hard and deep that my sweet little Dovey falls asleep, huh? Do you like me on my knees in front of you, and taking care of you in this way?” You answer by nodding your head. He knew you too well. You’d let him command you because you knew he had these sweet moments ready to remind you it isn’t just your cunt that keeps him obsessed.

“Dove, you’re no longer in the water, and I can’t attempt to deep sea suck on your clit.”

“You are ruining a sweet moment, Steven,” Steve adjusts to his knees, letting his heavy cock rub against your leg, and your legs spread even more, “Steve,” a whispered whine escapes your mouth, and you start going into that space where he controls your every thought and movement. Making everything about pleasing him because you get the utmost pleasure.

“I will try that one day. But you need to be fucked like my sweet little slut don’t you,” your head nods. A mess of words tumbles out of your mouth, and he stands up. Cock and piercing right at your face, and you whimper. Leaning forward you kiss the tip, sticking your tongue out to lick the vein on his cock. Looking up at him through your lashes when you tongue his slit.

“You sure do love Clarence, huh?”

“He loves me, too. Doesn’t he?”

“Clarence loves and adores you,” stepping out of the tub, he turns to you, lifting you up in his arms. He carries you into the bedroom, ripping open the curtains so you can see the woods and the moonlight creating silvery light into your room. Turning to the bed, he sets you on your knees.

“Put your head on the bed, and keep your eyes on me. You’ve teased me for too long,” you do as you're told, receiving a smile, and a soft slap to your pussy, “Such a good girl for me. As much as I love your fight, when you get in this space and will do anything just for this,” he spears into you with such a hard and deep thrust, your body scoots onto the bed.

Fingers cling to the sheets as Steve pulls himself out of you, “And what my Dovey wants,” another sharp thrust has you seeing stars. Stretched out, and that cool metal grazes over your cervix, “She gets,” gripping onto your hips he pounds into your depths.

Such frenzied movements. You aren’t sure if you have ever taken him so fully like this. So deep. So full. So aggressive in his movements. “And I…soon — soon you’ll have that thing removed and I will pump you so full of me that I start growing in your belly. You’ll be so filled with all of me. Something I have never done. You’ll get it all.”

His voice is gravely despite the words coming out of them. He means every bit of it. Making you understand and know that you are his world. Giving you all that he can, and more than he has to anyone else.

“I will do whatever it takes for you, Dovey. Anything to keep you safe. But you will always be mine. There will never be another. No one can ever treat you the way that I do. I own every part of you, all the way down to your soul. We’re bonded together. In this life and the next. I’m yours, but you’re mine. All of you. Every bit of your every being. It’s all mine. All. Mine.”

”It’s all yours,” you let out a scream of pleasure. Trying to get a grip on anything because the build up for the orgasm has you on edge. Your body tenses as euphoria builds up in your body. All the way deep into your soul. The most lewd, but also innocent form of being together. Searing himself throughout your body. And you didn’t even realize just how much you are burning yourself into his world. When he said anything, he meant it. You will always be his first thought.

No one has every had this much of Steve. And he would do whatever it took to keep you safe. The first and last thoughts on his mind are always you. Everything was just you. With your body almost flat on the bed now, he stabs into you, spurting his seed into your warmth and letting you milk him clean.

Losing a bit of himself in the moment, “God, I love…this,” he pants out. Watching your eyes close, and a derpy smile on your face. “I love it.”

You sleep so soundly. Can’t even feel Steve ghosting his lips over your worn body. You never complained about how much that he needs and uses you. You always just let him have whatever he wants. Even if you’re asleep he’s going to make sure that he spoils you with his touch. The only way he can show you how much he loves you, even if he can’t say it.

Not the way he sinks into you, but these moments. The ones where you’re softly snoring, and he’s staring over your body and painting your skin with his kisses like you are the most beautiful work of art. He wants to cover you in his — touch. He is working on it. He wants to give you what you need from him. He wants it more than he wants sleep. And one day he’ll find the way to give you all you deserve.

He didn’t bother closing the curtains and blinds. You love watching the woods outside to fall asleep. Saying that it makes you feel closer to him because it was just the two of you and the creatures.

He blinks, looking out into the distance when a flash of light catches his eye. Staring down onto the forest floor when he slings the blanket off him. Taking a moment to make sure you’re still asleep before he walks out the cabin. Teeth already clenched together as he marches down into the darkness.

Stopping when he squares up against a woman that once upon a time could have looked just like you. Her eyes lifeless as her sight moves from the bedroom window to Steve, “Didn’t bother to put a shirt on did you?”

He glares at her, snapping his fingers in her face when she looks back up at your sleeping form, “I need some money.”

“I told you I wasn’t giving you money,” his voice is quick and final, and she pouts up at him.

“She gets money.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

“Oh right, she lets you use her,” every conversation starts the same with her. Always money. Always he uses you. “Does she know?”

“That I paid for a fucking apartment and you trashed it, and got kicked out? No. I told her I would keep you safe. I don’t know what the fuck all that does because you can’t keep you goddamn nose clean. Let me see in between your fingers.”

“Fuck you!” Steve didn’t have to see. He could tell by the state of her, she’s no longer clean. A junkie that had nothing to lose and knew where he lived was dangerous.

“Why are you here, Lark? How did you know about our home?” She cocks up her eyebrow, looking Steve up and done before staring at his brand. “Yes, ours. How did you find this place?”

“I know people. Pussy gets you a lot of things. Ask my sister,” if she wasn’t a woman Steve would have backhand her.

“My patience is growing thin. What the fuck did you want,” she looks back up at your sleeping body, conflicted with emotions at how comfortable and unknowing you are. Did you even realize the shit Steve was into? Or did you just not care? The people that Steve employed? What they could do to you. “Lark!”

“Since you won’t give me money, we’re done here. I’m surprised you left her unattended. Did you remember to lock the door?” A more sinister person would smile, but Lark seems sad. Waiting for Steve to gasp before he bolts back towards the house. The door now wide open, and he sneaks around the room. Checking every dark corner before slinging the bedroom door open. You’re still asleep and none the wiser, but he can’t relax.

Needing to check the bathroom and closets, and keep turning back to you. Still relaxed and dreaming. Unaware of the turmoil that is going through his head at someone having the ability to hurt you. Didn’t even feel he had the right to crawl back in the bed beside you, or even hold you.

“Steve?” You whisper, turning in the bed to look at him. Blinking away the sleep in your eyes, “Baby, get back in bed. Can you close the curtains?”

“Yeah,” he says, telling himself the curtains will never be open again. Looking out into the woods, he wonders how Lark got here. Where she was at and where she was going. She was up to something. She wasn’t alone. He made promises to you to never hurt her, but if it comes between you and her, she will be eliminated.

“Take the sweatpants off, too,” you hated when he wears clothes to bed when you’re naked. As he tosses his pants to the side, they hit the dresser, knocking something into the floor. “The hamper, Steve.”

“Yes, ma’am,” his voice is quiet and solemn, and he doesn’t pay attention to the envelope that floats to the floor. “Let me set the alarm though.”

You’ll never be left unattended. He’d have you with him every second. You were all that mattered to him. “Mmm,” you moan, unaware of what transpired tonight. And even he wasn’t sure, but he would be soon.

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