#honestly I’ll take just about anything with little to no complain

[random-chaos-and-stuff]

Silly Game Time: COMPLETE THE PHRASE! "🎵All I want for Christmas is youuuuu!🎵 (and also ___ would be nice)"

🎵All I want for Christmas is youuuuu!🎵 (and also some books or book money would be nice)

or in a more fantasy world (because damn would I love this) 🎵All I want for Christmas is youuuuu!🎵 (and also a dragon egg would be nice) (I’ve got a bit of a dragon obsession don’t judge me I just think they’re cool)

[luveline]

could you write bau!reader x aaron, reader is pregnant and baby is so restless and kicking a lot as reader is at her desk working and aaron is the only one who can calm baby down

ty for requesting <3 pregnant!reader, 1k

“Woh,” you mumble, almost clipping your head on your desk as you lean forward. “Oh, my gosh.” 

“What’s wrong, mama?” 

You wave your free hand weakly at Derek, the other to your bump. “Nothing’s wrong, handsome.” 

Derek laughs warmly and stands from his chair. “I don’t believe you. Come on, tell me what’s wrong. Or I’ll go get the big man and he can force it out of you himself.” 

Hotch’s never forced anything out of you, but he has kissed a confession from you before. He could do it again easily. 

You right yourself as the baby’s rampant kicking makes you feel as though you’ll pee your pants. “Derek, there’s some crazy stuff happening inside of me right now.” 

He smiles at you fondly. “I bet there is.” 

“She’s kicking the shit out of me.” Sitting up, your back twinges and relaxes, the weight of your baby bump spreading out. You’re very pregnant and the baby is extremely active. She kicks pretty much 24/7 these last few days, and it’s driving you crazy. “Do you wanna feel?” 

Derek presents his hand for feeling. You stand up, and Derek lays a hand across your bump. You don’t have to move it anywhere: the second he touches you, he can no doubt feel the baby’s aggressiveness. She’s aiming her little feet almost like she knows where your most fragile organs are. 

One rough kick has Derek taking back his hand. “She’s beating you up, mama.” 

“She hates me.” 

“She doesn’t hate you,” Spencer says, twirling in his chair to give one of his innocuous tidbits of information, “babies kick for all sorts of reasons. They kick when they’re hungry, or after you’ve just eaten because of the extra glucose shared via the placenta. Sometimes they kick because they can feel sensation through your skin.” 

Spencer stands up. You raise your brows. “You wanna feel?” you ask. 

He grins and offers his hand. You take it and place it against the baby’s restless feet, smiling at Spencer’s smile, a little enchanted by how fascinated he seems. At Spencer’s touch, she starts to kick quickly like she had been with Derek, and eventually you have to move his hand in the hopes she’ll stop. She slows, but the occasional stretch pokes at your stomach. You can see the distension of her limb even through your shirt. 

“She’s really going for it today,” you say. “Maybe I had too much brown sugar in my oatmeal.” 

“You know babies can tell the difference between hands?” Spencer asks. 

“I sort of guessed,” you say distractedly, rubbing at the baby’s kicking with the crest of your palm. “She doesn’t act like this with Hotch.” 

“Good to know he has that effect on everyone,” Derek says with a laugh. 

“I might go and ask him to make her stop. I’m gonna need a change of clothes if she doesn’t.” 

Derek laughs again, full-bellied, his arm wrapping around your shoulders in a pitying hug. “Aw, sweetheart, you’ll be okay. Just two more months and this will all be over.” 

“Well, you never know. The longest overdue pregnancy in human history was almost a hundred days, that’s more than an extra three months.” 

“Spencer!” you say, not truly shouting, but your volume escaping you as the horror of a year long pregnancy sinks in. “Don’t jinx me.” 

Your loud voice, or perhaps Derek’s roaring laughter, draws the attention of JJ and Hotch, who appear from the depths of his office with matching curious expressions. JJ begins down the steps to the bullpen, while Hotch stays at the balcony waiting for an explanation. 

“Baby Hotchner’s giving it large,” Derek says, rubbing your upper arm. 

“She won’t stop,” you complain, relieved to see your stern husband. “Can you come and set her straight?” 

You aren’t always so quick to complain to him, but this is too much. It feels as though she’s about to start doing spin kinks against your spine —it’s honestly the most she’s ever moved. When you were just a few weeks pregnant you’d longed for her to wriggle and show you a sign that she could feel you, but now you’d appreciate a few minutes of calm. 

Hotch follows JJ down obligingly, and he, surrounded by your curious coworkers and colleagues, without any hesitation (but certainly some care), slips his hand under your blouse to feel at his baby’s sharp kicking. He presses against what might be a foot for a few moments, his smile barely hidden, his palm warm. 

“She really is giving it large,” he says, the deep softness of his voice like a signal. 

The baby’s kicks soften, until, barely ten seconds later, they stop. Your spine ceases vibrating, and you can finally stand there without having to press your thighs together. 

“Thank you,” you say, holding Hotch’s elbow. He’s well and truly saved you. 

He rubs your stomach with his thumb. His dark eyes stay set on your bump. “You’re welcome.” 

“I guess baby just missed her dad,” JJ says. 

You look at Spencer. He doesn’t say anything. “No correction?” you ask. 

“No,” he says, pouting that you’d ask. “Either she missed the sound of his voice, or your reaction to seeing him has calmed her down. That’s not a big difference.” 

“It’s both, I think,” you say, paused by a big yawn. 

“Are you tired?” Hotch asks. 

“Urgently.” You let yourself sag forward toward him, gesturing for Spencer, Derek and JJ to look away. “Thanks for your help, boys, but I need something no one else can give me.” You collapse into Hotch’s chest for a hug. 

The bump is very much in the way, but he reacts accordingly, ushering your chest to his, cheek pressed gently to your forehead. “She’s exhausted you,” he teases under his breath. 

“She really has.” 

“I love how she settles with me,” he says, rubbing your back for a long, slow handful of seconds, before he pulls away enough to grin at you. “But I suppose she gets that from her mother.” 

“You’re very calming.” 

“So I’ve been told.” 

[benevolentbones]

newcomer | spencer reid x fem!reader part 2

part 1

warnings: swearing, v mild dirty thoughts

word count: 1.3k

summary: your dad calls you on your day off

a/n: thank you so so much for all the support on my last few works, it means the world!! i love reading through all the comments! please if you have a fic request please let me know!!

it had been a few days since you dropped in to visit your dad at the bau, but your mind kept wandering back to the hazel eyed man you met.

you found his awkwardness quite adorable, and the way his face flushed when you spoke to him, made you smile.

you had heard a lot about the team over the years, so it was nice to put faces to names after your father had returned home that evening.

today was your day off, and you didn’t really have many plans, maybe you’d go and grab a coffee or take a walk around the park, who knows.

you stretched back against the plush sofa in your living room, flicking through the channels on your tv.

your phone began to chime, blasting out your ringtone. you picked it up on third ring, bringing it to your ear.

“hello?”

“y/n, are you at home?” your father questioned.

“yeah dad- i’m just watching tv at the moment, what’s up?” you sat up, scooting to the edge of the couch.

“can you do me a huge favour?”

you hummed in response “what is it?”

“in my home office, i left the latest case files- would you come to the bureau and drop them off?”

you chewed your bottom lip. on one hand, you didn’t really want to drive thirty minutes to and from your dads work, just to be there for less than five minutes. on the other, those five minutes could be spent talking or spencer reid.

“i’ll be there soon, dad.” you replied, hanging up the phone.

~

you practically raced to the bureau, cutting the usual thirty plus minute drive down to twenty three. a new record.

you clutched the case files to your side, making your way inside the building and making a b line for the bullpen.

morgan, garcia and reid were all sat around spencer’s desk, the younger man rambling on about the book he had just finished reading, which was a recommendation from penelope.

“honestly the plot could have been better- and i didn’t really like the-“ spencer was interrupted with a dig from morgan, whos eyes were glued to the elevator doors of the bullpen.

“why’d you do that ow.” spencer complained, rubbing the aching spot on his forearm. he turned his gaze to where both morgan and garcia were looking.

and there you stood. you had just stepped out of the elevator, you weren’t in the same office attire you had adorned the last time you visited the bau.

you were wearing a tight pair of black jeans that flared slightly at the leg, with a striped button down fitted shirt which rode up slightly, showing off part of your midriff.

“damn little gideon is mad fine.” morgan mumbled earning a quizzical look from spencer.

“little gideon- ew is that what you’re calling her?” penelope’s face contorted into one of disgust.

“i mean, you aren’t wrong..” she added, the blonde woman was practically undressing you with her eyes.

“guys come on- that’s a bit much don’t you think?” spencer mumbled, though his eyes did not once leave your form as you walked across the room towards gideon’s office.

“you’re just saying that because you like her, ain’t that right lover boy?” morgan cracked a smile, smacking spencer on the shoulder.

“shut up man..”

“do you really think gideon would want you dating his daughter?” derek mused.

“i mean anything is better than you..” spencer mumbled jokingly.

you reached your fathers office, balancing the files in one arm while using the other to knock against the oakwood door.

“come in.”

you pushed the door open, to reveal gideon leaning back in his desk chair, case files spread across the table. he had a telephone pressed in between his ear and his shoulder.

“hey dad- i brought the files you needed.” you smiled, shuffling over to his desk and plopping the bundle of papers onto his cluttered work space.

“thanks hon, you want to wait outside? i’ll be done in a few minutes and we can grab a coffee?”

you nodded, allowing gideon to continue his phone call. you backed out of his office, walking down the steps into the main section of the bullpen.

you scanned the room, your eyes landing on the three agents huddled around spencer’s desk.

you plucked up the courage and began to saunter over to them.

“hey reid look.” penelope whispered just loud enough for spencer to hear, immediately his head shot up, his gaze softening when he realised you were making your way over to him.

“good luck tiger.” morgan grinned, both he and garcia leaving the premises upon your arrival, after giving you a small smile.

“hey dr. reid right?” you mumbled once you reached his desk.

his eyes met yours, through his wire-framed glasses, and he nodded.

“yeah- you can call me spencer though- you’re y/n? gideon’s daughter?” he stumbled upon his words, rushing the sentences together.

you hummed in response, perching yourself against the genius’ desk.

“he’s told me a lot about you.”

“all good things i hope-“ spencer began, a slight nervousness to his voice.

this made you chuckle, “yes, all good things, i promise.”

“i hope you don’t mind keeping me company, i’m just waiting for dad to get off of the phone.” you eyed spencer, watching as he frantically neatened his desk.

“no-no not at all, i’m enjoying your company.” he mumbled out.

from the corner of his eye he could see morgan and garcia watching their interaction from the kitchenette, morgan had a cocky grin plastered onto his face and garcia held her thumbs up supportively.

spencer let out a breathy sigh, slumping down into his desk chair. he pondered for a moment, considering being forward. he didn’t want to come across as too needy or awkward, but if he was being honest with himself that’s exactly what he was.

he watched as you sat on the edge of his desk, happily swinging you legs back and forth, glancing around the bullpen.

fuck it.

“y/n?” spencer began, not being able to stop the crimson staining his cheeks.

“spencer.” you giggled.

“would you, i don’t know maybe like to go for dinner sometime- with..me?” you could sense the anxiety in his voice, the brunette avoiding your gaze as he fumbled with a pen on his desk.

you felt your cheeks heat up, and you reached over to place a hand on spencer’s arm. his eyes flickered up to look at you when he felt your touch.

“i would love to, let me give you my number.” you smiled happily, jumping from the desk.

you took the pen from spencer’s grasp, your fingers brushing against his causing a spark from the contact.

you picked up a pad of sticky notes and began scribbling down your number.

as you were doing so, gideon had left his office and was making his way towards the two of you.

“here, i’m free friday if you are.” you mumbled, passing him the paper and pen back.

“o-okay i’ll call you.” spencer’s eyes were now on gideon who had come to an abrupt stop, resting his hand on your shoulder.

“lets get going, kid.”

you nodded, shooting spencer a smile. “i’ll see you soon, dr. reid.”

and with that you had walked on ahead, gideon bringing his arms into a folded position in front of his chest.

spencer swallowed hard, feeling beads of sweat build up on his forehead.

“you want to take my daughter out?”

“uh yes, yes sir-“

agent gideon pondered for a moment, eyeing the younger man. he had worked with him for a few years, he trusted him to be sensible with you, and out of everyone he was probably the best pick.

“better you than morgan.” gideon shrugged, and with that comment he followed you out the door.

[auroreliis]

Hi! If you're comfortable with it, could I request batfams reactions to a reader who's suddenly clingy on their period or something similar? Normally I like my personal space but I am desperate for some type of warmth because cramps are actually killing me 💔

Bruce would still keep his distance, as he knows you don’t like physical touch. However, he would still be around you more, always asking if you need something. Anything sweet? Any pads? Any source of warmth? He will provide it immediately and be very understanding to you lashing out (don’t worry, he knows you can’t control it).

"What is it? You need pain killers?" He rumages in the bag he brought with him and hands you some pain killers.

"Hm? Chocolate? Yes, right awa-...what? Oh, oreo chocolate...? Mh. Fine, I'll go get some."

Dick would be very cuddly, almost as though HE’S on the period. He would hug you and sometimes even carry you around, despite your complaints…

“PUT ME DOWN YOU OVERSIZED CIRCUS CLOWN”

“:(”

Would he put you down? Well, yes. However, only at the destination. Then, after putting you down, he would take a step back and remain at that distance for about 5 minutes. After that, he would hug you again. And so the cycle repeats.

It does annoy you a lot, however, he is COMPLETELY unbothered by your shouting and your complaining. Like, dude. Take a fucking hint, will you? Obviously, since he’s already there, he also provides you with whatever you need. This means: If you want him to leave while also making him think that he’s doing you a favour, go send him to do something like getting you food or spare clothes. He will happily skip off, thinking he’s gaining your favour.

Jason would be playing with fire, always bothering you with stupid requests.

“So, wanna come to the library with me? I wanna go read something, but I also want you to be there”

You grumble, clearly declining his request.

“Well? Yes or no?” He is not taking the hint.

“No.” You mutter.

“What? A little louder, please”, he leans in closer.

“I SAID NO. Leave me the fuck alone. I want nothing to do with you. Haven’t I made that clear? Are you too stupid to notice? Do I need to be more direct?”

“:d”

At that point, he gives up for his own safety.

Tim, the leech, uses this opportunity, almost viewing it as a blessing.

“Heyyyyy, I have a heating pouch and all your favourite snacks and drinks and your favourite show prepared. If you come over to my room, I’ll make sure that nobody enters beside you and me AND I’ll let you take up the whole bed while I sit on a chair. What do you say? Wanna come to my room? :)”

If you foolishly decide to reject his offer, he will work hard to come up with something more alluring. Tim doesn’t give up easily.

Damian remains professional. He would probably create a presentation highlighting why you should ask him for help during hard times and not his brothers.

“Sibling. I am able to provide you with anything you require. As you know, whatever I provide is better than what anyone else in this manor could provide, hence why you should only ask me for help. Additionally, I am not as pushy as the other rejects, so taking up my offers is most ideal for you too. My goal is to help you, while their goal is to be in your proximity. Compare our values and see which you are most satisfied with.”

Stephanie and Cassandra completely understand. Despite how hard the others try, the girls would naturally be of most help. They’ve been there, they just get it. They also don’t annoy you, so you spend most of your period by their side. They just aren’t as loud and pushy as the others.

Secret bonding moment unlocked.

With special permission from Bruce (which they got with a lot of yapping and convincing), they get a hotel room and stay there with you until your period is over. This is very refreshing, as you don’t have to deal with the boys anymore and finally have some peace.

Honestly, the manor is always full at all times, but now it’s just the 3 of you. You all bond and have fun while the rest misses you. No, seriously, prepare for lots of cuddles to make up for your lacking presence </3

[blueberrymocha]

doing your hair ⊹ ࣪ ˖

┌──────────────────────┐

╰┈➤ fluff

➣ characters: gon, killua, kurapika, leorio, hisoka, illumi, chrollo

➣ word count: x

└──────────────────────┘

gon:

- he mostly does simple styles like ponytails but it looks great

- you weren't really expecting him to be good at this

- but i guess mito taught him some hidden skills

- he's so down to brush/comb your hair

- and would be happy to just play with it while you lay on his lap

- if you're sick or feeling down, he'd help you take care of it

- the one thing he's not good at is using the tools

- as in, one of y'all has a 50/50 chance of being electrocuted if you ask him to blow dry your hair

killua:

- he's not an expert but he wouldn't turn you down

- likes the idea of you sitting in his lap watching some show while he plays with your hair

- which is what he'll end up doing, playing with it

- it's gonna look even worse and you'll have to do it yourself anyway

- you're not complaining though

- he probably wouldn't want to wash it or anything

- just cause i see him having super low maintenance hair

- so when he sees all the work you have to put in, he's like no ty

kurapika:

- he'll pass on doing it for you

“i’m sure you’re a lot better than me, love.”

- but if you asked him to brush, comb, take it down, unbraid, etc he'd love to

- is afraid to hurt you, which makes him so gentle it ends up taking much longer than it needs to

- would also put on a show and have a drawn out conversation, which also extends the time it takes

- every now and then he’ll tug on it or threaten to make it look silly

- because the normality of it all creates the most soothing environment for him to let his guard down

- it's actually quite relaxing for him to run his hands through your hair

- so he'll offer sometimes if he had a stressful day

- as for washing it, he'll generally help you unless he's super exhausted or busy

leorio:

- honestly you're brave if you let this man touch it

- he's a 4 in one soap kinda guy

- you'll ask him to do a simple bun and you'll never get that hair tie back

- it's legit lost in your hair

- anytime he tries to tie your hair back/up, he just misses half of it

- you're way better off just doing it yourself

- likes to watch you do it though, even something easy would blow his mind

hisoka:

- he's really good at doing hair

- you're a little scared at first but he takes it seriously

- no way is his dearest s/o leaving the house looking a mess

- but he’ll of course play around with you first

"are you sure you want me to curl your hair? that's putting yourself in a vulnerable position."

“i think i’ll take a couple inches off here.”

- he has you preparing for 2nd degree burns and scheduling appointments

- but once he's done and you see how skilled he is, you'll ask him to help out with other things too

- so now he's ended up being dragged into helping you on washday and styling your hair for formal events

- at least you got the last laugh

illumi:

- he's the king of taking care of his hair

- i mean just look at it, the length? yes please

- when it comes to yours though, you'd probably need to beg if you want him to style it

- once he finally relents, he's gonna go all out

- you'd be getting some complex, time consuming braid

- it looks great though, and he'd take pride if you showed it off

- if you have easy maintenance hair, he doesn't mind helping you wash, dry, brush, whatever it

- but if your hair needs more care or a long routine, he'd just leave that to you

chrollo:

- he might pull your hair back into a ponytail or bun every now and then

- like when you're cooking or even before a fight

- and if you want, he'll do a simple protective braid when you're about to fall asleep

- so if you asked him to style your hair, he'll do it with no complaints

- since he himself has short hair, he really doesn't know much

- would read up on hair maintenance though

- if you ever shower together, he's definitely gonna wash your hair for you

- otherwise he believes you're more than capable of taking care of it yourself

[morganbritton132]

was thinking about that wayne buying little steve cereal text post and was wondering if you still plan to write the fic its inspired? if so i am definitely looking forward to it and am cheering you on. if not that's cool too, i was just curious!

Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll ever actually write the fic. But! I will tell you what I had in mind because it wasn’t supposed to be a sad fic!

Wayne starts noticing this kid around town.

He shouldn’t. He doesn’t notice any other kid, and this boy is well-dressed. He seems polite enough and well-behaved. There’s no reason that Wayne should pay him any mind, except… the hair. It’s a mess. It’s brushed up and backwards like the person who fixed it didn’t quite know what they were doing.

He keeps seeing that hair everywhere.

It’s asking questions at the hardware store about lightbulbs. It’s distracting Bob at the Radio Shack. It’s taking up half the aisle at Melvard’s with a cart it can’t see over, and asking Wayne, ‘Mister, can you reach the floss for me, please?’

There’s nothing out of the ordinary, honestly, but Wayne feels a might uncomfortable every time he sees this head of hair (a bit more stylish than the last) doing something that a parent might do. Especially because he never sees a parent.

It comes to head when he’s three people back in line at Melvard’s and people are complaining. He sticks his head out to see what the hold up is and sees that head of hair again, counting out quarters and dimes at the counter for a box of cheerios.

Davey, in front of him, swears under his breath and bounces on his feet like he’s about to say something, but Wayne beats him to it. Wayne takes the few steps up to the counter, looks Donald in the eye and wishes that it had been Joyce Byers instead.

He sits his carton of eggs and gallon of milk down on the counter next to the kid’s cereal and tells Don to ring it all up together. Then he tells the kid, “Put your money away, boy.”

He tries to talk to him outside the store, but the boy squeaks out ‘thanks’ and is running before Wayne can get anything out. He doesn’t see him for a while after that, and he can’t stop thinking about how hungry he looked.

A month and some change later, Wayne finds himself sliding into a booth at the diner across from the kid with the hair. He’s devouring slices of toast, pennies and nickels counted out on the table next to him.

The kid startles, and Wayne cuts to the point, “You hungry?”

The kid nods in that skittish way that reminds him of his nephew and Wayne orders two plates of pancakes. He lets the boy eat before he asks where his parents are. He gets no answer. He asks if he has enough food at home. The kid’s eye flicker to him and then back down, “Usually.”

He clicks his tongue, swears internally, and asks how often he’s left alone and hungry, and the boy says, “Their flight got delayed.”

The boy shrugs his shoulders and explains the money they leave him, and how sometimes he’s runs out but he’s learning better. It crushes Wayne just a little that he seems so proud of himself. Wayne gives the kid his number and tells him that if he’s ever hungry to call him.

For a while, Steve would call sporadically. Sometimes goes weeks, sometimes months. They’d meet at the diner and eat. This eventually lead to Wayne cooking for him in his trailer, then to him teaching Steve the basics, then to them cooking together.

Steve got older. He got a credit card. He got busier with school, and sports, and his friends. He didn’t need Wayne to feed him anymore, but they still tried to have dinner at least once a month.

When Eddie came to live with Wayne, he told him that Stevie came to dinner every third Saturday of the month. Eddie assumed Stevie was Wayne’s girlfriend.

The first Saturday that passed, Steve had to cancel because he had a basketball game. The second Saturday, Steve’s parents were in town so he couldn’t come. The third, Steve no showed, called the next day delirious with flu and apologized to Wayne.

The fourth Saturday rolls around and Eddie is thinking, “Man, this chick does not like Wayne. He needs to break up with his girlfriend before it gets really sad.”

Then there is a knock at the door, and Eddie opens it to the biggest jock asshole in the school.

Eddie stares at Steve in horror, and Steve stares back in total confusion, and then they both get annoyed like, “What are you doing here?”

Then cut to Eddie calling Steve out on bullying and Steve tattling about Eddie walking on the lunch tables. They bicker and argue, and Wayne secretly loves it.

[bajicantspell]

Kodzuken in my DMs ❕

Summary: Kenma trying (and failing) to make a move  → Warnings: cursing (Fluff) 🎧 This is part one, although both can be read as a one shot Part two right here

Despite his dislike for being recognized in public and the inevitable social interactions that fame entails, he couldn't deny that it came with its advantages. For starters, living in a big house in his early twenties wasn’t something he could complain about. Sure, it might have been just a rental and not in Roppongi Hills, but that wasn't due to any financial constraints; he simply chose not to. Kenma couldn't complain, he loved helping his loved ones. Whether it was sponsoring his friend's volleyball career or paying off his parents' debt, it felt nice to be useful.

Honestly he never expected himself to get this far this early in his life. It really felt like one day he was streaming in his old room for the ten people that happened to join and the next day he’s a ceo of a company. 

However, one thing that Kenma anticipated to be much easier, but found it wasn't, was dealing with women. Its not like the requests weren’t piling up; it seemed like every hour there was a new girl in his requests offering him everything lewd imaginable.

 Sure, meaningless sex could be nice once in a while, but lately he’s been feeling very lonely. Kuroo was always working, his parents lived far away, Hinata was in fucking Brazil. Aside from calls with them and the occasional visits, tedious work meetings, and interactions in his stream chat, he had no contact with anyone. Kenma also considered that it might be FOMO, but the fact that he had never had a girlfriend didn't help. In high school, he avoided women at all costs. In college, he went on a few dates, but nothing serious came of them—just one okay-ish hookup. Then he went viral, and dating became harder, because it seemed every conversation ended up being about him and his internet presence. 

Kenma sighed while scrolling through another dating app. Everytime he matched with someone and the first message they’d sent was “OMFG ARE YOU KODZUKEN”  he wanted to smash the phone screen just a little more. Giving up, he sank deeper into his gaming chair, taking a few deep breaths. He needed to be relaxed for the stream he was about to start.

If you could tell your awkward-ugly-duckling middle school self that you would one day have nearly ten thousand Instagram followers just for being pretty, she would have laughed in your face. Though you were extremely grateful, it wasn't as if your life was substantially different from anyone else's. You don’t get payed for posting, you’re still a regular university student, and aside from the occasional scammy sponsorship offer that you always turned down (and the creepy men asking you to start an OnlyFans), there wasn’t anything outstandingly different about your life.One thing you did brag about to your friends, however, was that the famous streamer Kodzuken had been following you for a couple of months now.  Part of you was convinced it was accidental though, since he never watches any stories or interacts with any posts. Bummer, you thought he’s really cute. 

“I’m gonna buy a fucking gun and shoot myself” Kenma complained to Kuroo during their weekly call. 

“You say while wiping your tears with money” 

“Oh fuck off, I’m serious! I tried everything. I swear I’ll resort to just fucking my hand for the rest of my life” 

Kuroo snickered, then he started thinking of solutions for his lonely friend. “Okay, instead of being a drama queen in her fucking castle lets try to be reasonable. What have you tried so far?”

Kenma sighed, “Mostly dating apps to be honest. Ain’t working. Also checked my requests and they all sound like the plots to a bad porno.” 

“Seriously? Like what?” Kenma could hear Kuroo’s smug smile through the phone.

“Dude there was one where she offered to lick my toes. Not gonna lie it was tempting.” Kenma joked, earning a loud laugh from Kuroo. 

“Damn, living the dream. Anyway, have you tried making a move though? Cause what I’m getting from this is you expecting the woman of your dreams to fall from the sky.” 

“How could i even do that? Can’t go outside without a crowd following me around. Can’t imagine a girl who feels comfortable getting hit on by a dude with an army behind him.” Kenma sighed. 

“I didnt mean that dumbass, I know that. I mean like shooting your shot through social media or something. There must be at least one babe that cought your eye.” Kuroo reasoned. 

Kenma paused and thought for a moment, his cheeks flushing the slightest shade of pink.

“Well there is one…” 

“Oh yea? Who?” Kuroo smirked. 

“She’s not like, famous or anything, which I like. It’s @(youruser). Found her a couple of months ago. Physically she’s exactly my type, like everything is exactly what i like in a girl; face, body, hair, style, the whole shtick. Followed her a couple of months ago, didnt have the courage to say anything though.” Kenma nervously explained. 

“I say send her something, what’s the worst that can happen? Getting rejected? So what? Then you move on.” 

“I don’t know…I think she’s really pretty, shooting my shot and then messing up means it’d be weird to still follow her. Don’t wanna make her uncomfy. She doesn’t post anything crazy, just selfies and outfit inspo, but she’s so fucking cute in every pic and video, drives me crazy.” Kenma sheepishly smiled. 

“Even if she does turn you down if you’re nice about it I doubt she’ll be uncomfortable. I say do it.” 

Kenma sighed, knowing Kuroo was right. He opened Instagram and searched for your profile, keeping the call with Kuroo active in case you replied quickly. 

*ding* 

 You were in the middle of doing some coursework when your phone buzzed. Glancing at the screen, you expected it to be a new follower. Your eyes went wide when you realized the notification said ‘@kodzuken wants to send you a message’.

No fucking way, you thought. 

You anxiously unlocked your phone, your focus completely shifting from your studies. 

What you didnt know is that  an equally anxious Kenma was patiently waiting for at least a ‘seen’ with his best bud on the line. 

You opened the message. 

Kodzuken: Hey :) 

Your finger hovered over the keyboard of your phone for just a second before replying.

You: Hiiiii

You cringed at your reply, it seemed to childish and dry at the same time. 

Kenma didnt think so, he was too busy panicking over the fact that you replied. Maybe he never got over his social anxiety after all. 

“Dude she replied.” He said, not fully believing himself. 

“Damn, that was fast,’ Kuroo smirked, ‘I’ll leave you lovebirds alone, gotta catch up on some work stuff. Talk to you later!” 

“Wait Kuro don’t-” before Kenma could finish his sentence the call was over. 

He clicked his tongue in annoyance- “Asshole”, he mumbled.  

He stared at the screen, unable to muster the courage to type anything. It was then that he realized this might be the first time he truly liked a girl, due to the anxious feeling that had left him since high school. With trembling fingers unable to type anything, he sighed and set his phone down, promising himself he would reply in an hour. However, that hour stretched into several, and then two days passed. He felt insanely pathetic. 

Kenma was on call with Kuroo again, Kuroo couldn’t stop complaining about the shitty meeting he had the day before.

“He was such an asshole, fucking bastard rolled his eyes everytime my colleagues and I talked. Like shut the fuck up. If you hate your job this fucking much at least don’t bring misery into ours.” 

Kenma could only hum in response, preoccupied with setting up for his stream while his mind was flooded with self-critical thoughts.

Kuroo noticed the uncharacteristic response from his best friend- If there was one thing Kenma loved, it was shit talk, and Kuroo knew that all too well from years and years of friendship with him, and the countless brutalities that Kenma would throw at him and others he was comfortable with. He would point out things in such a monotone way, you couldn’t even be mad. Kenma was a hater to his core, so not hearing even a snicker from the other side of the line was concerning. 

“Hey man, are you okay?” He asked.

“Yea its whatever.” 

Kuroo suspected what this might be about. 

“So uh.. how did things with the girl go?” 

“They didn’t fucking go.” Kenma let out a huff of laughter through his nose, tinged with self-pity.

“Hm? How come?” 

“I panicked and left her on seen. And I highly doubt I can recover that now. Like what am I gonna say? Hi sorry I left you on seen even though I texted you first, I’m just too fucking high and mighty to reply.” 

“Well definitely don’t say that.” Kuroo joked. 

“I seriously fumbled. Fuck,” Kenma muttered just loud enough for Kuroo to hear, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s okay, man. These things happen,” Kuroo said empathetically, his voice gentle and reassuring. “Everyone fucks up sometimes. You just need to give yourself a break.”, though he didnt get a response from the overthinker. 

“You’re gonna start a stream soon yea?” Kuroo changed the subject, he knew that the best way to make Kenma feel better was to distract him or piss him off a little. The second part was coming later. 

“Yea, almost done setting up. Gonna start in five.” 

“I might stay and watch a little today, I’m off work for the weekend.”

“Kay, I’m gonna hang up now. ‘Bout to start.” 

You checked the chat a couple of times during those two days, though the bitter ‘seen’ never changed. You couldn’t lie, you were a little disappointed. You didnt know much about video games, but you enjoyed his streams once in a while. He was a bit of a celebrity crush for you. 

It was the weekend, and with not much to do, you mindlessly scrolled through Instagram stories to kill time. You stumbled upon Kodzuken’s story, it was a picture of his monitor, with the text “streaming” and a link to his twitch. Although you were disappointed with the outcome of your “conversation”, you thought it couldn’t hurt watching for a bit. 

You clicked the link, and as you entered the stream, the first thing you noticed was his not-so-happy expression. His chat was filled with messages asking if he was okay.

You watched for a little bit, nothing particularly special happening. 

As you were about to click off, Kenma snapped at his chat. "Guys, I'm fine! Please stop asking." The irritation in his voice was evident. Despite his words, the tone of his voice betrayed him, revealing a hint of underlying frustration or perhaps even distress.

Another autogenerated voiced question popped on the screen, something that happens with every donation. “Okay man! Whatever it is, don’t worry, we won’t nag you.” The robotic tone of the voice did little to mask the genuine concern behind the words.

 Kenma’s shoulders tensed for a moment before he forced a small, appreciative smile. “Thanks,” he muttered, the frustration in his voice easing slightly. He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “I appreciate it, really. Let’s just focus on the game, okay?”

You decided to stay for just a little longer, puzzled at the unfamiliar demeanor of the famous streamer. 

A few minutes go by, and another donation followed by the familiar robotic voice  “@KUROROROTETSU : don’t mind him he fumbled the insta baddie” 

Your cheeks flushed for just a second though you were quickly brought back to reality by the man on the screen in front of you.

“Fucking kill yourself. Like I’m not even kidding I need you dead on my doorstep.” Kenma cursed to distract you the audience from his embarrassment, his eyebrows furrowed and a huge shit eating grin plastered on his face.

The chat started blowing up with laughs and ‘Kodzu’s back guys’

Kenma added, “before anyone cancels me that was my best friend of twenty years, don’t take the clip out of context.” He laughed.

Your favorite comment was someone saying “guys kodzu gets not bitches he’s just like me fr”, it made you let out a small giggle.

You debated with yourself, engaging in a mental monologue. ‘If I send him a message and it turns out to be about me, that’s the best case scenario. The worst case is completely humiliating myself in front of someone really famous,’ you reasoned.

You decided that a little embarrassment was a risk worth taking this time.

Kenma continued playing as usual, engaging and laughing with his audience. He felt his phone buzz and saw the screen light up beside him.

@(youruser) : for the record, I don’t think you fumbled me <3

He glanced at the screen, reading the notification, and immediately turned beet red. His heart raced as he processed the message. Slowly, he lifted his eyes to the camera, his expression a mix of surprise and embarrassment, as if he were looking directly at you through the screen.

“I uh.. hold on guys i need to reply to this for a second.” He said as he proceeded to pause metal gear solid. 

Your screen was still open to your chat, and a surge of excitement ran through you when you saw the telltale indicator that he was typing.

Kodzuken : holy shit I’m so sry, didn’t know you were watching 

(Youruser) : ahahah dw its fine

Kodzuken : can I text you after I’m done? Totally fine if u don’t wanna tho

Well it wasn’t totally fine, he really hoped you’d say yes.

(Youruser) : I’ll be waitiiiing :) 

Needless to say, that was the longest a stream had ever felt. He could hardly wait to finish so he could talk to you; properly this time.

𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕤 ↓。

part two right here , also i found these banners on Pinterest, if anyone knows who made these pls lmk so i can give credit

[fart9992828282i2]

showering🚿

joost klein x reader

warnings: smut

authors note: I’m writing a fic & if it goes well ill make more!

joost was taking his morning shower and you were still sleeping. you woke up to the sound of the water running. you decided to go brush your teeth before making coffee. “good morning joost” you say as you enter the bathroom.

you could see his silhouette from the transparent shower curtain. he got a bit scared as you entered, not being fully awake yet. “good morning baby” his morning voice was deep and raspy.

“im washing my face and teeth and then i’ll make coffee” you say while washing your teeth.

“okay sweetheart, make me an espresso please” his tone was sweet and needy.

“sure thing” you said walking out of the bathroom, while he stopped you saying

“baby, come’here please” he said as if he was complaining.

“what is it joost” you panicked.

“come shower with me, please”he asked greedily.

you were caught by surprise because that was the last thing you expected to hear. you had never had morning sex before or done anything sexual before midnight. it made your heart drop a little but you were very excited about what was about to happen.

“joost, its 10am. you’re in the mood already?” you laughed.

“yes, please stop laughing and come here” he said jokingly.

you soon got undressed and opened the shower curtain. you were still in your underwear. you got into the shower with him, not caring about getting your underwear wet.

you looked at the sight of his beautiful blue eyes, his muscular hands, and his morning boner. he caught you looking at him, surprised but happy about what you were seeing.

“please do something” he almost begged.

“anything for you” you smirked.

you leaned down to your knees, touching his chest and kissing his belly, which was covered with small blond hair. he was already moaning and whimpering, which was what made you realise how needy he was.

you started stroking him, slowly. the noise he made before was nothing comparing to his moans now.

you licked his tip, spitted on it gently to add more lube. he lost it there, and you could tell he could’ve finished just from that.

you took half of him in your mouth, not gagging or anything. you stroked the rest of him with your hand. he grabbed your hair gently, his breath was quick and short. he accidentally made a louder and more expressive moan, which he got embarrassed about, you could tell, but for you, it was the hottest thing you’d ever heard.

“please be loud” you asked.

he laughed at your command, setting himself free and moaning even louder. his beautiful voice sounded like heaven as he moaned and whimpered.

you decided to go faster, as you could see the desperation in his eyes.

“shit” he whimpered “i’m close”

you moaned at him saying that, and honestly that was the final thing he needed to hear to release.

he screamed from relief as he finished, making you desperate for him. after some seconds of heaven, he smiled and smirked at you. “you’re amazing” he whispered.

[ghostgirl-22]

artrick phone sex

I gotchu, my love <3

CW: 18+ !NSFW! First time dynamics, angst, Art has avoidance issues like me.

Apologies this may be too long and full of my own personal angst I fear.

—-

“Art?” It’s Patrick.

Art feels his stomach sinking and now he wishes he’d avoided his call, again. He rolls over on his bed and looks at the sparsely decorated wall of his dorm room. It’s his first time talking to Patrick since… since…

He shivers and tries to put it out of his mind.

“Hey,” Art says and clears his throat. “What’s up?”

Patrick chuckles.

Art shivers again. Did his voice always sound that way? Or is Art just crazy still? He’s been really crazy lately. It’s been two weeks and he’s still…

“Really? What’s up?” Patrick mimics. “That’s all you have to say?”

Art shrugs for the benefit of no one but himself. “What—um— what’s wrong with that?”

“Oh I don’t know…” Patrick hums and then he sighs. “Okay fuck it. I’ll go with it. Are you okay?”

Art is still anxious, his stomach still uneasy. It’s just Patrick. His oldest and closest and best friend and yet he can’t relax. He can’t settle down and they're just talking on the phone. He can’t imagine seeing him in person when he inevitably shows up to Stanford again to watch Tashi play. Everything is different now.

“I’m fine, Patrick.” He lies.

“But you don’t want to talk to me?” Patrick sounds weird. Worried? A little. Disappointed? Probably. Sad? Definitely.

Art sighs, he doesn’t want Patrick to be sad. “No I— I’ve just been busy. We had finals last week. And um…. practice has been crazy. I’m um… I started seeing this girl and—” he hears Patrick huff a laugh but barrels through, ignoring it. “Sorry I missed your calls.”

“And texts,” Patrick adds.

“I’m sorry,” Art says again.

They’re quiet for a while. Art turns back to look at the tv. He was watching Sports Center, they were talking about gymnastics. Apparently there had just been some kind of qualifier competition.

“Who’s this new girl your seeing?” Patrick asks. This time Art can’t tell what his tone is.

“Uh well she’s nice, pretty. She’s actually not on the team. She’s an English major.”

“Sounds hot,” Patrick says, flatly.

“Yeah, she’s um— she’s nice,” Art says. “Are you—are you high?”

“A little. I won’t lie. Me and the buddy I was telling you about we smoked a couple and then went and got tacos and Margaritas. So fucking good. Who knew Dallas was a food town?”

Art laughs. He begins to relax, this feels more like best friend stuff. Maybe he was overreacting. Avoiding him for two weeks. But of course that wasn’t the only reason Art was avoiding him. “What happened to your match?”

“Uh well— I lost again. This shit is so fucking rigged.” Patrick complains.

“Dude that fucking sucks,” Art says. He sits up on his bed and looks around for his own weed stash.

“Yeah, it’s fine though. I’m going against this guy tomorrow, stats are all over the place but I think I can take him.”

“Whats his name?”

“Moussa or Mousso… I can’t remember but he’s French. Kinda hot, actually.”

Art feels his stomach flip flop again. “Uh… so what about Tashi?”

“She’s good, she actually answers my calls. I mean not tonight but she told me her cousin would be in town so…”

”Do you want me to beg for forgiveness or something?” Art says, smirking.

Patrick takes a breath and doesn’t say anything while Art is rummaging through the bottom drawer of his night stand. He finds the baggy he was looking for and sits up on the bed, legs crossed as he opens it.

“I’m sorry but I was honestly busy.” Art adds when Patrick still hasn’t said anything.

“Are we ever gonna talk about it?” Patrick asks.

Art stops moving. His stomach begins doing all kinds of things again.

“Look I don’t want to… I don’t want it to be weird,” Patrick continues. “I can do whatever you need. If you want me to pretend I didn’t fuck you… okay fine. But you have to talk to me because I’m going fucking crazy.”

Art stares at the television but he’s not seeing anything. He gives up on the weed and tosses it on the nightstand. “Yeah um… okay.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Art mutters. “I’m— we can talk.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No,” Art says. “I—“ he lays back down on his side and looks at the wall, pulling his knees up. He wishes with everything in him that they hadn’t done it in here. In his fucking bed.

He’s got it on a loop playing in his head all the time. Patrick crawling between his legs. The way he looked, hair still damp from the shower, freckles all over, pupils too big, blue eyes all sparkly. How he smelled, like vanilla soap and cigarettes. What he sounded like, voice so much deeper and softer than normal, saying stupid things like “You’re so fucking pretty”, “Gonna make you scream my name,” and then moaning when he got it in.

And how it felt.

God.

How it felt.

That’s the part that stays with him. How much it hurt. And then how much it didn’t hurt at all. By the end Patrick was touching something inside him and he was seeing stars. In between consciousness and some other plane of existence is how good it felt. That was the silly part. Feeling like he wanted it again and again and again.

He let Patrick do it again in the morning. Patrick’s arms wrapped around his waist fucking him on his side while he stared at this wall his whole body blooming with pleasure. And then just sitting with it for the rest of the day. The ache. The stretch. The feeling like everyone could tell. Patrick left that afternoon for the airport, sent Art a text. Well that was fun. Which he ignored. Called him that evening. Also ignored.

Art had been trying to avoid thinking about it ever since (it was impossible). He’s thrown himself into school, tennis, he’s even tried to talk to a new girl. It didn’t go anywhere. In his worst moments he’s even tried to flirt with Tashi. But then he remembers she’s fucking Patrick and his mind swings right back around to the way Patrick fucked him. And that makes him more crazy because now he doesn’t know what the fuck he actually wants.

And every fucking night, late at night he’s lying in bed staring at the wall touching himself over and over… thinking about it.

He doesn’t know how to say any of this to Patrick.

“Did you die?” Patrick asks, dryly. Even now since they’ve been on the phone, just hearing Patricks stupid voice is making Art’s stomach hurt, and his cock fill up.

“No… I’m just confused okay,” Art says.

“About what?”

“I don’t know.”

”Did you hate it?” Patrick asks.

“Not really,” Art murmurs.

“You’re so fucking full of shit,” Patrick groans.

Art sighs and realizes he just mindlessly put his palm on his cock because of how gravelly Patrick’s voice sounds. And fine. Patrick can make him crazy all the way in whatever fucking city hes in however many fucking miles he is away from Palo Alto.

“I’m sorry if I don’t know how to feel. I’ve never… I’d never done any of that before.” Art says quietly.

“And yet you practically begged for it in the morning.” Patrick says softly.

Art swallows thickly.

“I can’t get it out of my head.” Patrick continues. “The way you were rubbing against my dick before you even woke up properly. Fuck. I can’t get you out of my head.”

Art’s rubbing himself now. “I can’t either,” he sighs, he’s starting to lose it again. He feels silly. Too silly to care if Patrick can tell.

“Yeah?” Patrick sounds eager, breathy.

“It was… I still… I still feel it. Is that crazy?” Art says quietly.

Patrick takes a deep breath. “Fuck. You drive me so fucking insane. Are you fucking touching yourself?”

“’m sorry. I just…” Art says, closing his eyes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Art knows he’s never gonna recover from this but right now it doesn’t matter. He would stop if he could but he can’t.

”You still feel me?”

“Mmhm.”

“Feel me stretching you? you’re so fucking tight I don’t even know if it’s all gonna fit,” Patrick says, his voice sounds like it did. When Arts eyes are closed it’s almost like he can feel Patrick’s breath on his skin.

“Ah—“ Art gasps, grabbing himself properly. “I like the stretch.”

“You love it.” Patrick says. “You don’t even want to wait. Don’t want me to take my time, you’re just so eager you’re pushing that pretty ass back on me.”

“Yeah,” Art gasps, he rolls onto his back and puts the phone on speaker, letting one leg fall open as he jerks himself. “It feels so good—when you fuck me. Its too much. Im too full please… please I don’t think I can take anymore.”

“Oh you fucking liar,” Patrick moans. “You can take it baby. I know you can. You’re a little cock slut already and its only your first time. Fuck. You’re so tight.”

”So tight,” Art says mindlessly as he tries to ease two fingers along his ass, the way Patrick had done before he entered. “I wanna… I want you to… I—I miss you.”

”I miss you too,” Patrick says. “If I was there I’d have you on all fours taking my dick all night.”

“Ah—mmh— Patrick I’m gonna— you’re gonna make me—“ Art cries. The fingers are enough… even dry.

“Come on, yeah… fucking come on my big fat dick sweetheart… come on.. nngh…” Patrick moans.

It’s enough. Hot strings of pearly white are suddenly spurting out of him and spilling everywhere, on his fingers and clothes. On the bedspread. He’s breathless, as his whole body goes lax.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… I need to be in you again, gahhh..” Art can hear Patrick’s bed squeaking wherever he is and then he’s groaning loudly, and gasping through his own orgasm. “Oh god, oh shit… that was…”

“Yeah,” Art says breathlessly, looking up at the ceiling.

”Mm don’t fucking ignore me again,” Patrick says.

As relaxed as Art feels right now. Distantly, the pit in his stomach is returning. “Patrick… are we… I mean… are we still gonna be… friends?”

“Yeah of course,” Patrick says, easy. He yawns. “Always.”

Art feels tied up in knots but he can tell Patrick’s relaxed, sated, relieved even. If anything he’s going to be asleep in five minutes. No point getting any deeper now.

“You wanna fall asleep on the phone or—?” Patrick asks, yawning again.

“No it’s… it’s fine.” Art says. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Mmkay. Sweet dreams.”

Art bites his tongue to keep himself from saying something fucking stupid that he can’t take back. The line goes dead. Art stares at the ceiling for a minute, the three words he can’t say platonically to his best friend who he’s now fucking, are flitting about in his head. And Patrick wonders why he’s confused. He grabs his second pillow and pulls it over his face. He’s so fucked.

[justwinginglife]

hi can I request sochiro x reader arrange marriage where the girl is a platoon leader in the third and first division. And her parents want her to quit her job to be a housewife, but like she’s very good at it. And her and soshiro don’t really get along and when they sleep together it’s always after they argue because in her head she thinks the only way she can hurt him is if she runs her nails down his back. Furthermore they start to eventually fall for each other I’ll let you decide how. But then he starts to get jealous at the guys that clearly like her and he kinda wants to claim her. Idk something like that can you make it angsty too pls

thank you sorry for the trouble

Don't apologize, it's no trouble at all! Sorry I took so long with this prompt, was just trying to figure out all the in's and out's. Honestly not even sure if this is what you wanted, but this is my attempt. ALSO THIS IS NSFW IF YALL COULDN'T TELL.

The Best Kind Of Disaster

You expected marriage to a stranger to be difficult but not a disaster. It was, in fact, quite disastrous. But your parents had begged you to quit your job as a Platoon Leader in the First Division and this was your compromise with them- you'd marry anyone they chose on the condition that they quit complaining about your work and stop trying to get you to become a housewife. So now you were in this mess for better or for worse and this disaster was yours to keep.

Honestly, you'd originally thought this marriage would be a breeze. The man you had saddled yourself with was none other than Vice Captain Hoshina of the Defense Force's Third Division so you knew he'd at least understand your duty if he didn't understand anything else. And he was quite the looker too. But looks don't solve everything and you were starting to realize that more and more, day by day.

You blamed Captain Narumi for your troubles. You'd taken too much of his personality into you, after working with him so long, and Hoshina could feel it. Every little behavior that was Gen's, every reflex, every smartass comment, the way you fought, even the tone of your voice sometimes resembled his, and Hoshina was not having it.

He constantly complained that if he wanted to marry Narumi he would've just married Narumi. And you were constantly pissed that he'd never recognize you as your own person. You couldn't even drink your tea or read a book without him making some snide comment about how Narumi probably taught you how to put a proper cup together or how he probably taught you how to read. Then you'd shoot back with some snarky comment of your own but it only furthered his opinion that you were just another Narumi copy.

One day, you'd decided to show him the specific ways in which you were different from Narumi. Your anatomy, in particular.

He had come home from a particularly long day at work and had too much energy to burn off, too much stress on his lower half. You noticed the little bulge in his pants and thought you'd tease him a little but he didn't take the vulgar comments well. In no time at all, he had you in a chokehold on the ground. You thought you might break his boner with the sudden urge to kick him in the crotch, but that fire inside you went somewhere else when you saw his little smirk. It was the first time you'd even seen some resemblance of a smile on his face, and the thought that you being underneath him was what had pleased him sent those flames rushing to the space between your legs.

You smirked right back and adjusted your weight, yanking him to the floor and positioning yourself on top him.

"Bitch."

"Asshole."

"Fucking wannabe Narumi."

"Fucking second-rate samurai."

"I bet Narumi fucks better than you do."

"I bet Soichiro fucks better than you do."

He growled at that, rolling over so you were pinned underneath him again. He ground his hips up against yours and the feeling of his erection fucking you through your pants got your underwear soaking. He started sucking and biting harshly at your neck as though he were trying to tear your throat out with his teeth. But you liked the pain. It was surprisingly the most attracted you'd ever been to him.

You yanked his shirt off, only able to admire his rock-hard physique for a minute before he shoved his tongue down your throat. You almost choked on it and he smirked against your lips. He was so fucking smug and it pissed you off- in the sexiest way.

You bit his lip hard and he groaned at the sharp sensation.

To get you back, he gripped your breast tight, squeezing at it with full force. Then he ripped your shirt off and began sucking at his target aggressively, dragging his tongue back and forth over your nipple relentlessly. You moaned and began cupping your other breast, to which he responded by shoving your hand away from your chest.

"Did I fucking tell you that you could touch yourself? You're going to pay for making that comment about my brother. I'm gonna fuck you so hard you can't see straight and you're going to take back your words, so don't go getting off before I can destroy you properly."

"Promises, promises. You talk a big game for being the lesser Hoshina." You teased with daring eyes.

He knew you were baiting him but he didn't care, he used it as fuel to unleash all his jealousy and fury on you. "We'll see if you'll still be saying that by the time I'm done with you. I'm gonna send you back to Narumi so fucking cum drunk he won't be able to recognize you."

And with that, not wanting to waste anymore time talking, he jerked your pants off of you and jabbed his fingers at your panties. He wouldn't give you the satisfaction of feeling him fully inside you yet. He just teased at your entrance, roughly dragging his fingers up and down your underwear, pleased at just how much wetter he was making it.

You groaned at the unnecessary teasing and before he could react, you wrenched your underwear to the side and shoved his two fingers inside you, thrusting your hips into them.

He hissed but he didn't resist, he just kept pumping his fingers deep inside you. "So fucking impatient and so fucking wet."

"Thought you were gonna show me something special, or do I have to ask your brother if I want a good time?"

You could almost feel his glare searing holes into your skull and the thought got you so damn horny. "Fuck me then, Soshiro."

It was the first time he'd heard you say his first name and he groaned as he palmed his growing erection through his pants. Then he yanked it out, fucking his hand until there was enough precum drizzling down his throbbing cock.

You wanted to make some sassy comment about his shrimpy size (honestly, it was huge but you didn't need him to have anymore ego than he already did so you thought you'd knock him down a peg), but before you could form any words, a yelp had already escaped your throat as you realized he'd just shoved his full length inside you.

He was grinning widely now, amused by the precious little noises escaping your quivering lips.

You bit your lip to silence them but more moans came clumsily tumbling out as he continued to relentlessly thrust into you until you thought he might bruise your sensitive walls. Might make you bleed out underneath him.

You wanted your share of his blood too and you dug your nails into his back, as you braced yourself for his next onslaught. The feeling of you piercing his skin did more to him than either of you thought it would, because his pace picked up, like he was eager to come with your nails carved into him.

The sound of him desperately fucking your dripping pussy, panting heavily as he groaned into your chest, sent you over the edge. Never mind that you were married and this is what married couples did, no this act of intimacy with him felt filthy, felt corrupt. You hated each other. So why did it feel so obscenely good? If this feeling were a tangible object, you would've locked it away and let it sink to the bottom of the ocean.

But regardless, the feeling of pure orgasmic pleasure washed over you anyway and you shuddered underneath him, clenching around his dick as you came in waves. He took this as permission to thrust into you again, this time pumping hot white sheets of his cum inside your velvety depths.

He finished filling you up and pulled out abruptly, but to your surprise he then flipped you over on your stomach and plunged his still-dripping cock inside your ass, continuing his assault on your trembling body.

You whimpered at this new sensation and he soaked up the sound. You hadn't wanted to inflate his ego but you'd done it all the same.

He reached around you and roughly flicked a finger at your clit as he thrust into your ass deeper.

"If you beg me to stop I will." You could almost hear his stupid smirk.

You didn't want to give him the satisfaction. "What, you don't got the stamina to finish the job, Hoshina?"

He chuckled darkly, and removed his hand from your swollen clit, much to your dismay. Then he dug his hands into your hips before pounding into you harder.

The pain and the pleasure were so beautifully distracting that you almost forgot you hated him. You could get lost in the feeling of being underneath him, of making him so wild for you that he'd fuck you round after round, cum still fresh on his dick each time.

The arousing thoughts forced another orgasm from you, and you squirt all over the floor as he pumped his seed deep into your ass.

You collapsed on the ground, dripping from front and back, and he pulled away from you to admire his handiwork while he caught his breath.

You thought maybe the sudden intimacy would change something in your relationship, make you sweeter to each other, kinder to each other, but that hope was ripped from your mind when he made a stupid fucking comment about liking you better when you were all pathetic for him and you ended up kneeing him in the balls.

Months later, you were still making petty comments and snarky digs at each other, but that first initial sexual encounter proved that one thing had in fact changed in your relationship- hate sex was now on the table and the both of you were ready to use it at a moment's notice.

You got more kills than him in combat? He'd take it out on your clit.

He said your cooking was shit? You blew him so hard he begged for seconds. You forced him to retry your food and rethink his stance on it, then you choked him down again afterwards.

Little by little, you both unconsciously began to seek each other out more and more; of course, you both used the sex as a cover, but even when you weren't having sex you were still looking for each other, looking for ways to be closer.

He said he wanted to blow your back out but really he wanted to wish you a happy birthday and he snuck a gift into your room when you weren't looking.

You said you wanted to milk him dry, but you really wanted to distract him from the bad day he was having.

He said he wanted to fuck you until you dropped, but really he wanted you away from base when they were looking for volunteers for a particularly dangerous mission.

All this tip-toeing, just to avoid the simple truth that your relationship had evolved into what marriage was supposed to be in the first place. If you really thought about it, it should've been easy. You were already married, how hard could it be to confess your feelings to your husband? But you didn't like to think about it, didn't like to wonder if you were overestimating your relationship, if you were overthinking every nice gesture he made, if you were really just a body for him to have sex with. You couldn't stand the thought of being desperately in love with him and him seeing you as just another woman. Just some baggage he'd gotten bogged down with. Even if he had grown fond of you, was it just in the way one was fond of a pet?

So you kept quiet. And so did he.

And for awhile, it seemed like your relationship would forever be suspended in this state. But then you got asked out on a date and the aching in your heart made you realize everything you were missing from your current relationship. You wanted to be pursued, you wanted to be chased after. You'd almost forgotten what it was like to be desired.

So now, here was this tall, handsome man asking you out, offering you everything you could've ever wanted, and all you could do was flounder. Of course you wanted to be seduced, wanted to be wanted, but he wasn't Soshiro. No one would ever be Soshiro to you.

Right as you were about to reject him, you felt a hand wrap around your waist, the grip firm and protective.

"I really hope I heard wrong, because you better not be asking my wife out on a date." Soshiro warned, his voice low and rough as he took his place beside you.

The man looked from him to you, then back to him, and he quickly shook his head before scurrying off.

"That's what I thought." Soshiro grumbled, pulling you closer to him.

"Since when am I yours?" You teased, nudging him with your arm.

"Since when are you not?" He nuzzled up against your ear, nibbling on it slightly.

You rolled your eyes. "In bed, sure. Outside, not so sure."

His brows furrowed at your statement. "What do you mean?"

You waved him away, not wanting to have this discussion in public. "Nothing, nothing."

He grabbed your wrist tightly. "Baby. What do you mean you're not mine?"

He'd never called you baby before. He'd never called you any pet name before. Your heart thundered in your chest.

"I thought we... I thought we just...." You trailed off, unable to explain yourself in a way that made you sound less pathetic.

"Thought we what? We just fuck and mess around and don't care about each other?" He demanded, his eyes focused intensely on yours.

You swallowed but then nodded slowly.

He winced and bit his lip. "Fuck. I had a feeling, but I didn't realize it was this bad. I... I'll make myself more clear next time."

You coughed. "I'm sorry- what?"

"I... I don't want to just fuck around. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

You laughed at that. "Well you kinda already have to, we're legally stuck together."

He shook his head quickly. "I'm not stuck with you, I'm with you because I want to be. Because I... love you."

He got down on one knee and pressed a tender kiss to your hand. "I know I'm a little late, but will you marry me?"

You laughed again, but this time your heart felt lighter and your cheeks felt warmer. You held up your hand, flashing the ring that was already settled around your finger at him. "I already have, love. But I'd do it again in a heartbeat. In a million lifetimes. So yes, I will marry you."

Then he stands up and gives you the kiss you should've had at the altar. It's mind melting and dripping with sweetness and care. It's passionate but delicate, as if he doesn't want to break the moment. It's everything you've ever wanted.

He's everything you've ever wanted.

[flowerchild28]

Cozy Day

Louis Tomlinson imagine

Warnings: fluff, making -out

2.8k

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the bedroom. Y/N blinked her eyes open, still curled up against Louis, who was sound asleep, his breathing soft and steady. His arm was draped loosely around her waist, his face nestled close to hers, and a little smile played on her lips as she took in the quiet serenity of the moment.

Carefully, she slipped out of his embrace, careful not to disturb him, and tucked the blanket around him to keep him warm. She tiptoed out of the room, pulling on one of his old, oversized shirts that hung down to her knees, the fabric warm and familiar. Heading to the kitchen, she decided that breakfast should be a little extra special this morning. She set about making tea, putting the kettle on and gathering eggs and bacon from the fridge.

The sizzle of bacon filled the air, and she cracked a couple of eggs into the pan, watching the whites bubble and turn opaque. She was just pouring tea into two mugs when she felt familiar arms wrap around her from behind. Louis buried his face into the crook of her neck, his hair still a bit messy from sleep.

“Smells good,” he murmured, his voice rough from just waking up.

She leaned back into his embrace, smiling. “Good morning, sleepyhead. I thought I’d surprise you with breakfast.”

Louis took a sip of his tea, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. "Alright, I’ve gotta know... what made you decide to cook this morning? Not that I’m complaining," he teased, nudging her foot gently under the table.

“Well, consider me very pleasantly surprised,” he said, tightening his arms around her and giving her a gentle squeeze before letting go. They moved to the table together, setting down plates of eggs and bacon, and the warm mugs of tea.

Y/N shrugged, grinning. "Maybe I just like watching you eat," she teased back. "But seriously, I just wanted to do something nice for you. I know you’ve had a busy week."

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. "You’re right about that. Feels like I haven’t slowed down in ages. But this…" He looked around the cozy kitchen and then back at her. "This is exactly what I needed."

She smiled, leaning her chin on her hand. "Good. Then it’s working."

There was a pause before Louis spoke again, a playful gleam in his eye. "So, tell me, if you could do anything today—anything at all—what would it be?"

"Hmm," Y/N mused, tapping her fork on her plate. "Honestly? Maybe just staying right here, doing absolutely nothing. Maybe a little reading, maybe a movie marathon... what about you?"

Louis grinned. "That sounds perfect. But, if I’m being honest, as long as I’m with you, I’m happy to do absolutely nothing."

With their plates cleared and mugs empty, Y/N stretched her arms above her head and looked at Louis with a soft smile.

She laughed, rolling her eyes. "Smooth, Tomlinson. But I’ll take it."

"Alright, lazy day partner," she said, playfully nudging his shoulder, "what’s the plan? You promised me a movie marathon."

Louis smirked, leaning back in his chair. "You’re on. But, first things first—we need blankets, and plenty of ‘em. And pillows. And snacks. Basically, all the essentials."

She laughed, watching him already plotting out the perfect setup. "I’ll get the blankets and pillows; you handle the snacks?"

He gave a mock salute. "Consider it done."

They both got up, setting to work with a sense of excitement, as if turning the living room into the coziest fort possible was a mission. Y/N grabbed every blanket she could find, draping them over the couch and piling up a mountain of pillows in the corner. Meanwhile, Louis raided the kitchen, gathering popcorn, chocolate, and a few bags of crisps.

A few minutes later, they were both snuggled up on the couch, wrapped in blankets, the room dim and comfortable. Louis handed her the remote with a grin. "Alright, what’ll it be? Rom-com, thriller, or… are you in the mood for something scary?"

Y/N grinned, leaning into his shoulder. "I’ll let you pick. But no complaints if I end up hiding behind you if it’s scary."

Louis chuckled, scrolling through the options. "Alright, let’s start with something funny and work our way up to the scary stuff. Sound fair?"

As the credits rolled on their third movie, Y/N turned to Louis with a soft smile, her head still resting on his shoulder. He looked down at her, his eyes warm and a little playful, a quiet intensity lingering between them. Without another word, he leaned in, brushing his lips against hers, slow and gentle at first, testing the waters. She met him halfway, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as the kiss deepened, both of them sinking further into the moment.

She nodded, settling deeper into the blankets as the opening credits rolled. They exchanged little jokes and commentary, laughing and getting lost in the movie. Occasionally, one of them would reach for the popcorn, their hands brushing in the bowl, each touch bringing little smiles and laughs.

Before long, his hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer, and she felt his fingers tangle in her hair. Their laughter had faded into quiet sighs, the warmth between them building as he trailed kisses along her jaw, and she couldn’t help but pull him closer. Her hands moved to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palms. But just as her own heart began to race, she let out a soft laugh and leaned back slightly.

“Louis… I think I need a little fresh air,” she whispered, her cheeks warm, her eyes shining.

Louis blinked, surprised, but then his lips turned up into a grin. “Yeah? You mean, outside? In the real world?” He chuckled, pulling her closer for one last kiss on her forehead before standing up and offering her his hand. “Alright, let’s go.”

They slipped into jackets and scarves, bundling up against the slight chill as they stepped outside. Y/N reached for his hand, but Louis pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her waist as they started down the quiet path near his place. They walked side by side, the only sounds being the soft crunch of leaves beneath their feet and the occasional brush of his fingers against her cheek as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

It seemed like he couldn’t stop touching her—his fingers brushing her hand, his thumb tracing light circles on her lower back as they walked, and once, with a smirk, his hand rested just briefly on her lower back before he gave her hip a little squeeze. She laughed, nudging him playfully.

“What?” he asked innocently, though his hand lingered just a bit longer on her waist, pulling her closer as they continued along the path. “Can’t help it. You’re kind of irresistible, you know.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing softly. “Right back at you, Mr. Charming.”

They continued to stroll, lost in the quiet simplicity of just being together, his fingers twining with hers, or slipping around her shoulders, as if he couldn’t bear to let her go.

After their refreshing walk, Y/N and Louis returned home. The cozy atmosphere of the house wrapped around them, and Y/N was struck by a sudden idea.

"Hey! Let’s build a puzzle!" she suggested, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “I found this one hidden in the closet, and I think it’s really beautiful .”

Louis raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "A puzzle? You mean, like… putting a bunch of pieces together? Sounds riveting," he said with mock enthusiasm, though he couldn’t help but chuckle.

"Come on! It'll be fun! A cozy puzzle session!" she insisted, playfully nudging him.

"Alright, alright," he relented, his laughter infectious as they set the puzzle up on the coffee table. Y/N excitedly sorted through the pieces, separating edges from the middle pieces, while Louis leaned back on the couch, watching her with an amused expression.

But just a few minutes in, as Y/N was diligently working on the puzzle, she glanced over at Louis, who was now sprawled comfortably on the couch, scrolling through his phone.

“Hey, you’re supposed to help!” she said, half-laughing, half-exasperated.

Louis shrugged with a smirk. “I’m just… letting you do your thing. I mean, it’s not like I have the patience for this.” He held up his phone, showing her a funny meme he’d just found. “Look at this one! It’s hilarious!”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. “You know, you could at least pretend to be interested for a few minutes longer!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll give it a shot,” he said, picking up a few pieces and dramatically trying to fit them together. But after a couple of attempts, he sighed dramatically. “This is too hard. I don’t get how these pieces connect.” With a chuckle, he tossed the pieces back onto the table, surrendering. “You win. I’m tapping out.”

With that, he leaned back, shifting his focus back to his phone, chuckling at something he saw on social media. Y/N shook her head, giggling to herself as she dove back into the puzzle.

“Hey! Check this out!” he called, turning the phone around to show her a video of a dog doing a silly trick.

Y/N laughed but quickly returned her focus to the puzzle, enjoying the quiet determination it took to complete it. She found herself completely lost in the challenge, humming softly to herself while Louis occasionally chimed in with commentary, but he mostly he was absorbed in his phone.

"How about you just go ahead and finish it? You’re doing great!" Louis called out lazily, clearly having settled into his own kind of cozy evening as he flipped through his feed.

“Thanks for the support!” Y/N shot back playfully, her concentration unwavering. She felt a warm sense of satisfaction wash over her as the puzzle began to take shape, piece by piece, even if she was building it all alone.

As the last piece slid perfectly into place, Y/N sat back and admired her work, a grin spreading across her face. The colorful landscape unfolded before her. It was a serene view of a sunset over a peaceful meadow, and she felt a sense of accomplishment wash over her.

“Ta-da! Finished!” she called out, turning to Louis, who was still comfortably reclined on the couch, phone in hand.

He glanced up, pretending to be impressed as he raised an eyebrow. “Wow, you actually did it! Impressive.” His tone was playful, but he genuinely seemed to appreciate her effort. “Now that’s something to celebrate. What’s the prize for finishing the puzzle?”

Y/N chuckled, standing up and stretching her arms overhead. “The prize is that you get to help me take it apart and put it back in the box.”

“Ugh, no way!” he protested dramatically, dropping his phone onto his lap. “You can’t be serious. I just watched you put that together for hours. I’m not taking it apart!”

She laughed, walking over to him, hands on her hips. “Come on! It’s just a puzzle. Plus, I thought we were a team!”

“Maybe a team in theory, but I’m not that dedicated,” he said with a smirk, leaning forward to grab a piece from the completed puzzle. “Besides, look how pretty it is! Why would we want to break it apart?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, playfully snatching the piece from his fingers. “Because it goes back in the box, silly! That’s what puzzles do.”

He feigned a dramatic sigh. “Fine, but can we at least take a picture first? I need proof of your hard work.”

“Of course! ” she said, excitedly positioning the puzzle in the best light. Louis stood up, quickly snapping a few photos of her beaming face next to the completed puzzle, and then a few close-ups of the vibrant colors.

After he was satisfied, Louis set his phone down and stepped closer to her, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Okay, now that we’ve documented your moment of glory, how about a celebratory dance?”

Y/N laughed, her heart racing at the thought. “A dance? Here? Now?”

“Why not? You’ve just conquered a puzzle! You deserve to celebrate!” he exclaimed, pulling her gently into an embrace, his hands resting at her waist.

With a laugh, she melted into him, the playful energy between them igniting once more. Louis began to sway them slowly, humming an upbeat tune. Y/N joined in, laughing as he twirled her around, their playful banter filling the room.

As they danced, Y/N felt the warmth of his touch, his hands gliding from her waist to the small of her back, pulling her closer. It felt natural and exciting all at once. She caught Louis's gaze, and the moment seemed to hang in the air, charged with an unspoken connection.

Just then, he dipped her slightly, and she squealed with laughter. “Okay, okay! I think I’ve had enough dancing for one night!” she gasped, trying to regain her balance.

Louis straightened her up with a grin, the laughter in his eyes mirroring her own. “Alright, let’s call it a night on the puzzle and the dancing. But we still have time for something else, don’t you think?”

Y/N smiled up at him, her heart fluttering. “What did you have in mind?”

“How about a cozy movie night part two? We can pick something really ridiculous this time,” he suggested, winking.

“Now that sounds perfect,” she agreed, feeling a warmth spread through her. The evening was still young, and they had plenty of time left to enjoy each other’s company.

With the promise of a ridiculous movie, Y/N and Louis settled back onto the couch, pulling the warm blankets around them. As the opening credits rolled, Louis wrapped his arms around her, pulling her snugly against his chest. The soft glow of the television lit up their faces, and Y/N felt a sense of contentment wash over her.

Louis leaned down, brushing his lips against her temple, whispering, “Ready for some cinematic genius?”

Y/N giggled, rolling her eyes playfully. “Absolutely! I can't wait to see what kind of chaos unfolds.”

The movie began, but it didn’t take long before their attention drifted away from the screen. Every few minutes, Louis would lean down to press a kiss against her lips, playful and teasing, pulling her into the warmth of his embrace. Y/N found herself losing track of the plot, completely wrapped up in the warmth of Louis and the softness of his lips against hers.

“Are you even watching the movie?” he teased, chuckling as he pulled back to glance at her.

“Not really,” she admitted with a laugh, her cheeks flushed. “But can you blame me?”

“Not at all,” he replied, grinning, and he captured her lips again, this time more fervently. The kisses became more passionate, more desperate, as the movie played on, their laughter and quiet murmurs filling the room.

Each kiss felt like an electric spark, igniting warmth between them. Louis’s fingers trailed through her hair, tangling softly as he leaned closer, deepening the kisses. Y/N’s hands found their way to his shoulders, then wrapped around his neck, pulling him in even closer, completely lost in the moment.

Eventually, the world around them faded away, and they were only aware of each other—the softness of his hands against her skin, the warmth of his body, and the way his lips moved against hers. The movie faded into a background noise, only punctuated by their quiet giggles and whispers.

But as the film droned on, Y/N felt herself starting to grow drowsy. The warmth of the couch, combined with the comfort of Louis's arms around her, lulled her into a sense of safety. She snuggled closer to him, burying her face in the crook of his neck as her eyelids grew heavy.

Louis noticed the shift, gently running his fingers up and down her arm, his voice soft and soothing. “You okay?” he asked, looking down at her with a mix of concern and affection.

“Just a little tired,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Go ahead, darling. sleep if you want,” he replied, his tone gentle as he placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll be right here.”

Y/N smiled, feeling utterly at peace as she nestled closer, her breathing slowing as sleep began to take over. Before long, she drifted off completely, her body relaxing against Louis, the warmth of his presence wrapping around her like a blanket.

Louis watched her for a moment, his heart swelling with affection as he continued to stroke her hair. He pressed another kiss to her forehead, feeling a deep sense of contentment wash over him. Soon, the steady rhythm of her breathing lulled him to sleep as well, the movie playing on in the background as they drifted off together, wrapped in each other’s warmth.

[girliism]

being best friends with art and patrick was supposed to mean all romantic feelings were off limits.

“wait so you made out with both of them?” your cousin asked. “first of all i did not make out with either of them it was just a friendly kiss.” you had told her about the kiss you and art shared at formal and then the one you and patrick had yesterday. “friendly kisses don’t last so long that the two of you break away to breathe.” she makes a good point, they were far from friendly. but admitting that means you have to admit how your stomach erupted in a fit of butterflies during both kisses.

“what the fuck is this?” patrick walks over to you and art waving his class schedule in the air. “we don’t have home room together.” the three of you huddle up looking at your papers. “oh he’s right we don’t.” art points out. “at least we have every other class together.” you say. “at least? AT LEAST. we are supposed to have all classes together what if i get stuck with weirdos? who’s homework will i copy? i should get my parents up here.” patrick’s complains “honestly i don’t think it’s that bad it’s just home room pat you’ll live.” art patted his shoulder.

being without the two boys glued to either side of you was weird you felt exposed. “hi, can i sit here.” a voice asked from next you. “yea sure.” you look up to be faced with a boy. he was definitely new cause there’s no way you would forget a face like that. “i’m luke by the way. i just moved here.” you introduce yourself and the two of you talk all class time. “we have three classes together plus lunch which you can totally sit with me at.” you offer. he was new and didn’t have many friends you were being nice. “cool, i’ll look for you.” he smiled at you and you felt your cheeks heat up.

art and patrick were already at lunch when you walked in with luke. “art! patrick! this is luke he’s new i said he could sit with us.” you plop down in between them. art and patrick eye the boy suspiciously “hey, i’m luke.”

you and luke started dating a little while after that and art and patrick were not feeling it. “luke is nice why don’t you guys like him?” you pout just wanting them to get along. art hated him because of the tender way he’d kiss you when he thought no one was watching. but art was watching, burning with jealousy. patrick hated him because now with him in the picture you stopped letting patrick lay his head on your lap and combing your fingers through his hair opting to do that for your boyfriend instead. “it’s just we know nothing about the kid.” art says mouth full of popcorn. “yea this kid could a fugitive for all we know. you don’t want you to get pregnant by a fugitive do you?” patrick ever so dramatic adds. you scoffed. “what is your obsession with my womb.” “i just don’t want anything in it ok. you’d probably look ugly pregnant anyways. i’m helping you.” you stare at him in shock. patrick shows his love in weird ways.

you loved luke he was sweet and funny but he wasn’t art or patrick, and the feelings you were trying to ignore you had for them was getting harder.

“when is art coming this project is due tomorrow.” you flop down on your bed. “he said he can’t make it and to just do it without him.” so you and patrick worked for three straight hours. “uughhh, can we please take a break and watch a movie or something.” patrick groans draping his big body over your pressing your cheeks together. “fine.” you push him off of you getting up to close the curtains turing on a movie.

you’ve been alone with patrick before but this felt different. suddenly you were hyper aware of whenever his arm brushed against yours and how it would made your heart speed up. “are we ever gonna talk about the kiss?” patrick doesn’t know why he brings it up. the question was coming out before he could even think. your eye widen. “what is there to talk about.” you wanted to throw up. “maybe how i wouldn’t mind doing it again.” you can feel patrick’s eyes studying your side profile trying to read your thoughts. patrick always thought you were pretty. “i have a boyfriend.” you whisper looking into his eyes. he just mumbles ok before kissing you.

that was the beginning of something for you and patrick but unknowingly the end for the three of you.

“oh don’t the three of you look adorable. come on say cheese.” it was year end formal and you, art and patrick were standing in the foyer of your house while your guys parents took more than enough photos. “you look good.” patrick leans down to whisper in your ear hand resting lower than it should be. you and patrick have been sneaking around all school year and yea you felt horrible for cheating on your boyfriend but mostly you hated how you were lying to art.

knocks hit your door pull you from your thoughts. “oh! that must be luke.” your mom says opening the door to invite him in. “babe, you look great.” he smiles a you pulling you in for a kiss. art and patrick burn imaginary lasers into his head.

formal was fun much better that last year. you danced with both art and patrick at the same time giggling and stepping on each other’s feet. you snuck to the bathroom so you and patrick could make out in the hallway. this year the seniors let you guys crash their party.

“cassie’s been flirting with you all night art i don’t get why you don’t like her.” you say picking through the chips in the bowl in front of you. “she’s just not my type.” she’s just not you. is what he really wanted to say. “i have to go make a call i’ll be back.” art rushes outside. he’s been acting really distant lately.

you feel hands squeeze at your waist. “come upstairs with me.” patrick whispers in your ear leading you upstairs into a random room.

“you looked so hot tonight.” he pants into your mouth laying you down on the bed then getting onto of you. “thanks” you sigh out as patrick starts kissing your neck. the two of you have never gone farther than kissing and maybe light grinding. “have you noticed how when weird arts been lately.” you had no idea why you brought up art. but it’s be waying on your mind for days. patrick lifts his head up. “i mean he’s been a little quiet these days but if there was something going on he’d tell us.” patrick reassures going back to kissing you.

downstairs art walks back in the kitchen confused to see you gone. he taps some guy on the shoulder asking if he saw you leave. the guy points him upstairs. art walks into something he really wish he hadn’t. he walks in on you and patrick eating each other’s faces. “art!” you’re pushing patrick off of you to chase after him.

“art wait.” he only walks faster before turning around to yell at you. “how long has this been going on? how long have you and patrick my supposed best friends been lying to me. how long have you been lying to luke?” art was angry and sad. “a while.” you admit shamefully. art laughs throwing his head back. “i didn’t plan for this to happen it just did. and we only kept it a secret for you cause i didn’t want to ruin what we three have.” you were crying now, your eye makeup smudging. “oh so you and patrick were lying to protect me? that’s a pathetic excuse really.” art scoffs “you know i liked you first. while patrick was running away with a new girl every week i turned down everyone cause i was waiting for you.” that’s what this was really about. you didn’t know what say. “art i’m so sorry please don’t hate me.” you plead. art sighs completely over this entire night “i don’t hate you. i hate myself for trying to play nice guy all my life when i should have just went for you like patrick did.” “we’re still friends right art? cause i need you. i need the both of you.” you say desperately trying to keep together a dying friendship. “yea just like how i needed you and patrick just now and you two were seconds away from fucking.”

you knew something was going on with him but you were to caught up with your secret relationship with patrick to actually talk to him about it. “why what happened?” you grab arts wrist not ready to let go. art pulls his hand away. “it doesn’t matter. i’m tried i’m just gonna go home. don’t call me tomorrow” your tears are cold against your cheeks “ok. but we’ll still hang out this summer right?” you ask and it’s probably stupid but you really needed know. “can’t my parents are dragging us up to see my grandma she’s not doing well.” “oh. i’m sorry.” art hums “you’ll come back for the fair though.” another stupid question saying anything to keep him here. art sighs looking you in the eye. “i don’t know i’ll try. have a good summer bee.” he called you bee. that stupid nickname he and patrick gave you in second grade during your bumblebee phase.

art didn’t contact either of you all summer. letting yours and patrick’s calls go to voicemail. he also didn’t come back for the fair. the fair was something the three of you did every year. racing each other to the dock on your bikes, making a bet on who’d be the first to throw up after all the fried food and rides. you did break up with luke and officially start dating patrick though.

the next time you and patrick see art was on the first day of school. you three finally had home room together and you waved at him to come sit with you but he pretended not to see.

senior year was gonna suck.

part three

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 5: acorn

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

This is kind of flangst if you squint, but the idea came to my mind and I thought it would be really cute. One of my favorites, enjoy, and reblog if you liked it!

You and Spencer walked in silence, with only the sound of the orange leaves crunching under your feet. Autumn had undeniably arrived, and you knew perfectly well that this season was a blessing for many children, providing them with leaves on the ground to play with, warm clothes, and tons of candy. Somehow, it was also your favorite time of the year, as it brought back a few pleasant memories you guarded closely in your heart.

“How did he behave over the weekend?”

“Very well, actually,” he replied, happy that you had finally decided to break the silence. In the distance, you could hear the giggles of a child you both made sure to check on from time to time. “We made pancakes, I took him to the aquarium, we drew a lot, and overall, he didn’t throw any tantrums or anything like that. He even asked me to tuck him in.”

“He always wants that,” you said. “Sometimes he makes me read the books you give him.”

“And he asks me to sing him lullabies you taught him.”

You both fell silent again.

It wasn’t often that your ex-husband’s days off aligned with yours, and the truth was that you both only sought to see each other when strictly necessary. Many times, Jason spent weekends with his father, and when Spencer had the chance, he would take him to school and other activities.

As a father, you couldn’t complain about him. He tried his best after the divorce, as if wanting to make up for something, and you both made sure to keep arguments away from Jason’s ears because the last thing you wanted was for your son to suffer because of it.

It had been somewhat complicated explaining the dynamics of your post-divorce life to Jason, as he didn’t understand why his father, whom he loved so much, had to move to a new apartment. Spencer had tried to be as kind as possible when talking to his son, not wanting him to feel, even for a second, the abandonment Spencer himself had felt from his own father. He called him all the time, bought him an endless number of things, and made sure to have him with him whenever work allowed.

Work, work… that damned work.

“That’s just how he is,” you said simply.

A cold breeze filled the air, and you tucked your hands into your coat pockets, just as your husband did. Once upon a time, you might have held hands to deal with the cold, but now that was unthinkable.

“He also told me he already has a costume for Halloween, right?”

“He wants to be Sherlock Holmes. It was between that and Albert Einstein, but he went with Sherlock because he said his job was similar to his daddy’s.”

Spencer let out a chuckle that was stifled in his throat and looked in the direction of the little boy who was hopping around in the leaves, already too dirty from the nature of the park.

“Do you need money to buy the costume? I could ask JJ where they sell some, or…”

“It’s okay, Reid. I’ll probably make it myself or ask my mom,” you murmured, shrugging. “But he wants you to take him trick-or-treating.”

“I’ll try. But you know with cases… it’s unpredictable.”

“Explain it to him, not me,” you muttered seriously.

Honestly, conversations between the two of you were almost always uncomfortable. Sometimes Spencer tried to find a normal or interesting topic for you, but you rarely carried the conversation forward. Other times, you wished you could ask him about things that really mattered—his mental state, his feelings, or simply what was happening in his life—but you had no idea how to go about it.

That’s why you both preferred to talk only about Jason.

“Look, Mommy!” your son suddenly shouted, throwing a bunch of leaves into the air and laughing when they fell on him.

“How nice, baby,” you responded with feigned excitement, somewhat relieved that your son was having fun.

You both stood there watching the little one, and you could feel your ex-husband’s gaze from the corner of your eye. So many years of knowing him, of loving him, had allowed you to detect when he wanted to say something but didn’t dare. Sometimes, you still felt guilty for being able to read him so easily, and you had no doubt he felt the same, especially with that eidetic memory of his helping him.

“Jason talked to me about Christmas the other day,” he began, seemingly gathering the courage to speak. It had to be something important if he had taken the trouble to bring it up. “Has he mentioned anything to you about the presents he’ll ask Santa for?”

“Not yet, but he’s usually happy with whatever he gets. We can ask him later what he wants or tell him to write a letter for something specific, but I think some of the other gifts could be a chemistry set or art supplies; his teacher says he’s shown a lot of interest in both.”

“I see,” he murmured, nodding slightly. But he didn’t seem satisfied with your answer. “He said something interesting to me the other day. I just wanted to know if he had told you about it already.”

“Maybe if you tell me, I can answer,” you said without looking at him, trying to stay calm.

You had a suspicion of what your son had talked about, but you didn’t want to make a mistake. And Spencer felt exactly the same.

There was silence again for a few minutes, which felt like an eternity, and then he spoke:

“He told me this year he doesn’t want to ask Santa for anything because he wants to save his wish for something special,” he began. He paused for a moment and then continued, “I asked him what it was, and he didn’t want to tell me, so I suggested he could write a letter even though it was still early. He did, and after I put him to bed, I went to read it. There was a drawing and some words written in a messy but legible way. It said his only wish was for his mommy and daddy to be together again.”

By the middle of the conversation, you already knew what it was about. By the end, a few tears had welled up in your eyes.

“I know. He tells me that often,” you confessed, feeling a tightness in your chest. “And I never know what to say.”

“Have you thought about remarrying?” he suddenly asked. It was barely a murmur, but enough for you to turn to him in evident surprise. “I mean… with someone else. Or maybe having a boyfriend?”

“Jason takes up most of my time, and work takes up the rest. I don’t think there’s an opportunity to even consider it,” you said seriously. Since the divorce, neither of you had thought about the possibility of Jason having a stepfather or a stepmother. “What about you?”

“Never. I believe marriage is a pact you make only once in life.”

What was he trying to do? Was he criticizing you? Was he hinting that he saw the possibility of living together again?

“Well, that way Jason won’t be confused. At least until he grows up.”

“Don’t you think he needs a father figure?”

“What do you think you are then?”

“A permanent figure,” he clarified. “And a mother figure at the same time. We worry about ourselves, but we never thought about how this would affect him.”

“Of course I thought about it, Spencer. That’s why I asked for the divorce.”

Low blow. And a painful one.

“Listen, I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and I’m not trying to justify myself. But it’s been two years, and I think I’ve changed enough to prove to you that I’m not a bad father.”

“I don’t need proof of that. I know you’re not,” you said firmly. But when you spoke again, your words were harsher. “But I can’t trust that you’ll be a good husband.”

“I was before.”

“Yes, but then you ended up in prison. And you decided your work was worth more than your family.”

“That’s not true,” he exclaimed, clearly offended. “You and Jason have always been my priority, even now. I live only for you, and in return, you abandoned me when I needed you the most.”

“Spencer, stop blaming me. I had to choose between taking care of you or raising my son. Our son. So I sacrificed my marriage to make the best decision for him. We came second.”

“But divorce doesn’t have to be forever,” he insisted, stepping in front of you to make you look at him. “If you want, we don’t even have to sleep in the same bed. I just… I just want us to live together again. For Jason. I think he deserves to have a complete family because I know how hard it is not to have one, and I don’t want him to go through the same thing.”

You were finally talking more than you had in months. But to be honest, you wished it wasn’t happening. He took one of his hands out of his pocket and reached up to touch your cheek. You were freezing, and it became a fervent desire to lean into you and lose himself in your lips.

“Spencer, don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I need to think with a clear head. And you’re just clouding my judgment.”

“Why does it have to be a decision you make with a clear head?” he said, sounding hurt. “I’m not a stranger; we once loved each other. I still love you.”

His other hand came up to cup your face, and you placed your hands on his wrists, trying in vain to push him away. You didn’t have the strength, neither physically nor mentally, to do it.

“Spencer, nothing guarantees that getting back together will make us happy.”

“And nothing guarantees that it won’t,” he murmured, pleading. His fingers stroked you gently, and you felt yourself succumbing to temptation.

You were looking into his honey-colored eyes again, and you realized that was one of the things that hadn’t changed despite all the years; they still looked so sweet, so docile toward you. And suddenly, you felt as in love as the first time, and that terrified you. Loving meant the fear of getting hurt again.

You were about to say something when a shout caught your attention, making you think for a second that something had happened to your son. Luckily, it was just him trying to get your attention.

“Come play! Please!” he said politely, with that persuasive little voice he was already learning to use.

“We’re coming, my love.”

The conversation was interrupted by that activity, and although Jason asked why you were crying, you reassured him, blaming the cold in the park. As the minutes passed and you two began to follow your son’s lead, the mood lightened. You even reached a point where you were genuinely having fun, the three of you together, and it was undeniable that your little boy was brimming with happiness.

“A squirrel!” Jason suddenly shouted. He loved animals, so he didn’t hesitate to get closer.

“Careful, honey,” Spencer hurried, always the more fearful of the two of you. “It’s not a good idea to touch squirrels, even if they look cute. They’re wild animals and could bite or scratch you if they get scared. Plus, they can have bugs or diseases.”

“But I want to pet it! Can I, Mommy?”

“When Daddy says no, it’s a no.”

Your son pouted, pretending to be upset, but looking as cute as any 6-year-old. Your ex-husband tried to cheer him up by crouching down to his level.

“Better let’s observe what it’s doing. What do you think it’s looking for?”

“I don’t know.”

“Look, there. In its little hands.”

“An acorn!” he exclaimed happily. The squirrel was picking some off the ground and putting them in its mouth, filling its cheeks. “Why is it doing that?”

“It’s storing food for the winter. It buries them in a safe place, and then when the snow falls, it looks for them to eat.”

“There are more over there!” your son said, pointing with his little finger. “There are three. Do you think those are its mommy and daddy?”

“Maybe, son.”

“They’re like us, right?” he smiled.

You looked away from them because you didn’t want to meet Spencer’s eyes if he turned, and you only heard him laugh.

“Yes, maybe they are.”

Jason watched the animals for a few more minutes, and then he got distracted by a nearby hot chocolate stand. Spencer bought a cup for each of you, which felt wonderful. During the time you all sat on a bench to drink it, with Jason in the middle of both of you, you could sense the furtive glances Spencer gave you, and unwillingly, you did the same toward him.

Jason played for so long that the sky darkened, and he was completely exhausted. By the time you hugged him, ready to head home, he had already fallen fast asleep. And although his presence was evident in theory, you were once again effectively alone with your ex-husband as you approached the car.

He offered to drive to avoid waking your son, and then he opened the passenger door for you, where you settled in, trying to make Jason as comfortable as possible. Halfway through the drive to your apartment, there was an awkward silence that couldn’t even be avoided with music because Spencer had forgotten to fix the stereo.

You struggled to admit it but, to be honest, you hadn’t had such a bad time that afternoon. You were genuinely happy about the family moment you shared, and proof of that was how you clung to who you would always see as your baby, smiling as you watched him sleep so peacefully.

Spencer didn’t expect you to speak during a red light.

“We can meet up to spend Christmas together as a family. Stay in the same apartment, open presents together, and all that,” you said, not looking at him, trying to focus on anything else to avoid him “And it’s too soon to make such a drastic decision, Spencer, like going back to a practically married life. But we can think about it and decide after the new year.”

Despite your indifference, he knew you were being sincere and not just giving him false hope. And he also knew that he would work twice as hard to win back your trust, forgive your mistakes, and, with some luck, recover your love. You hoped you had the strength to forget what had happened and see Spencer for who he was now, not for who he had been.

“I’m glad you said that. And I agree,” was all he replied.

When you got home, you both made sure to leave your son comfortably asleep in bed, and as an extra favor and a show of commitment, you stayed a long time watching him sleep, as if trying to preserve that childish image forever. You didn’t say anything when Spencer wrapped his arms around your shoulders, and he pretended not to notice that you leaned into him, resting your head lightly against his chest.

All you could think was how you hoped time would be kind to you and allow you to eventually rekindle the love you once had and offer it to the beautiful child lying in front of you.

[tradgedyinwaves]

Touch - Ch. 3

Poly!141 x chunky!reader tw: Just a tad smutty, more like an idea of smut rather than the stuff itself. 

Two Weeks Later. Friday.

You stood outside under an awning, waiting for the bus to show up as you texted away on your phone. A soft smile had plastered itself to your face the longer you texted with the big Scot, but one thing you’d noticed is that he was always mentioning the other members of his team, not that he’d told you what they do.

“John is a pro at fixing up cars, never seen a car he couldn’t fix.” “Lordie, this pasta is good. Gaz is always making amazing food.” “Remind me not to bet against Simon again. Lost all of my money on that rugby match last night.” 

He never referred to Simon by his callsign, not wanting to give you any reason to recognize or connect the dots. Eventually, they’d each come to you, injecting themselves into your life one by one. You’d told Johnny that your car had broken down a few days ago, complaining that the bus was always late and it never had any open seats, but you didn’t have the money to get it fixed. He’d offered for John to come take a look, but you’d insisted it was fine. Except it wasn’t. After a week of bus rides, you were ready to take him up on the offer. 

🪻: Hey Johnny? Would your friend be able to take a look at my car? I can’t bear the bus anymore. 🧼: Of course. We can come tonight once you’re off work? 🪻: oh thank you so much! You guys are truly the best. 🧼: Anything for you, Petal.

You blushed at his message, stepping onto the bus in much better spirits than before.

A few hours later, there was a knock at your door and you jumped at the sound, getting up from the couch to open it and smiling shyly as Johnny’s face came into view. You hadn’t seen him in person since that day in the flower shop, exchanging pictures over the last two weeks, but nothing else. His scruff was freshly trimmed, bright eyes shining at you, but it wasn’t him that made your eyes bug. It was the man standing just behind and slightly to the left of him, wide frame blocking light from the hallway.

“Aye, this is Price,” Johnny’s thick accent sounded jovial as you stepped back, opening the door for these two men. Oh, Magda was going to have a heyday when you told her about this. “You can call me John if you like, little bird,” the older man stated, passing through the door to stand next to it. You stammered a bit before shaking your head and introducing yourself, closing the door softly. “I’m sorry, I thought you were gonna take a bit longer. I’ll go change and then take you guys down to my car,” you offered, giving them small smiles as they nodded to you before disappearing into your bedroom. You took a moment to lean against the door, fighting with your thundering heart rate as you closed your eyes and leaned your head back. Clearing your head, you moved from the door to change into some jeans and a simple shirt, tossing the shorts you’d been wearing into the corner.

While you were changing, the two men were having an almost silent conversation in your living room. “Cap, did you see-?” Johnny’s eyes met Price’s who only gave him a hard stare and the slightest nod. Between the pretty color on your cheeks and those damn shorts, both men were having their control tested. And you only served to make it worse, coming out in jeans that hugged your hips and ass in a way that left nothing to the imagination. They were just as bad as the shorts.

“Ready?” you asked, trying to stay chipper as to not betray your rapid heart beat or the way your voice wavered on the word. “Lead the way, Petal.” Johnny gave you one of his lopsided smiles and you had to switch to manual breathing.

A few minutes later, you were down on the street with them, rambling on about what you thought the problem could be. “It’s possible it’s the alternator, but it could also be the battery. I’m honestly not sure at this point. It was a hunk of junk when I bought it,” you babbled out, forcing yourself to stop after a few moments of long-winded speech and the soft looks the two men were giving you.

John had himself under the vehicle in minutes, thankful that his line of sight to you was blocked. You were unknowingly challenging both of them with your thick waist and that pretty look you got in your eyes when you were looking at either of them. He wasn’t even sure how Johnny was coping, standing that close to you.

But Johnny wasn’t coping. If you looked away for even a moment during your conversation, he was readjusting himself to make his obvious arousal even the tiniest amount less obvious. You’d caught him once but didn’t say anything, turning to watch John under your car while you struggled to hide the blush that covered your cheeks. Sometimes, you were grateful you were a girl, though your squeezing thighs weren’t as subtle as you thought they were and Johnny had to clear his throat to hide the groan that threatened to spill forward.

Finally, John was sliding out from under the car and standing before you, covered in grease and wiping his hands on a towel. Suffice it to say, if you’d been a man, your desire for them would have been just as apparent as theirs. With a soft grunt, John was directing you to try to start it, making you jump to action. Darting over to the driver’s seat, you slid the key in and almost cried when it started. You hopped back out, running over to John to wrap your arms around his middle, thanking him profusely for fixing it and how could you ever repay him.

“Let me take you out, little bird.” 

Your eyes widened while your arms released the huge man, flipping between Johnny and Price, eyes filled with confusion when the former gave you a soft smile and a nod. You’d thought Johnny would ask you at some point, but you supposed that he hadn’t in two weeks, so why would he now? Chewing the inside of your lip, you nodded. “I’d love to,” you replied while your cheeks turned a bit pink and you could have sworn you saw them share a look over your head. “We’d best be going. I’ll pick you up tomorrow, 8pm,” John stated, a warm smile on his face as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head before moving to clean up his tools. Johnny joined you and you looked up at him with the same confusion, though you couldn’t bring yourself to voice it. He just gazed down at you with those pretty blues, a soft smile on his lips that looked a little more like a smirk than anything else. “Don’t look at me like that, Petal,” Johnny whispered to you as Price started to move his tools to his truck, hugging you tightly before walking away to get into the truck. “See ya soon, pretty bird.” 

Hours later, laying in bed, you reflected on your evening. You’d been touched more in the last few hours than you had in years and it made your mind a little hazy. If it wasn’t Johnny’s hand on your lower back as the three of you trekked down the stairs, it was Price’s arm slung over your shoulders as you explained what happened when your infernal car died. From there it was Johnny’s small touches like brushing your hair back and then finally Price’s kiss to the top of your head that had your body feeling like they’d set little fires down everywhere they touched. 

There was a foreign feeling inside when you laid down that night. The ache between your thighs and the simmering flames they’d left behind creating a buzzing in your ears that you just couldn’t shake no matter how much chamomile tea you’d drank or how many breathing exercises you did. So finally, you did something you hadn’t even thought of in months. Sliding your fingers under the shorts you’d slipped back on when they left, you let out a soft moan as your fingers found the throbbing bundle of nerves and rubbed quick, precise circles on it. Your brain conjured some filthy images of the two hulking men taking you however they saw fit, not that you’d ever admit it. 

I hope you guys are enjoying this and thank you so much for the support! I promise I'm not forgetting Gaz and Ghost. It's just not their time yet. They'll get their shot, pink promise.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Love and deepspace boy getting you back for touching their butt when theyre angry and turn away from you pls (I hope you know what I mean)

Honestly had no idea what Xavier would do in retaliation, so I kinda just skipped him. Plus I didn’t want any of them sounding repetitive of each other and that I couldn’t think of anything…

Rafayel

‘I’m not just gonna grow a tail, even if you touch it over and over again.’ He muttered after you smacked his ass, pouting as he rubbing his backside as though you bruised him with your playful swat.

You scoffed, he always acted as though that any form of activity would make him bruise like a peach but when in reality he was just being extremely dramatic; so basically being himself.

So when he began to ignore you shortly after the incident, you weren’t at all shocked nor were you worried as in the end Rafayel always tended to be the one to come crawling back for your affection and attention; you often joked that he couldn’t last a day without pestering you with text and voice messages, attempted FaceTime calls and calls in general and needless to say he took that as a personal challenge but failed just under a record breaking five seconds into it.

However this felt a lot different then to the other times he’s ’ignored’ you.

He was scheming and you were rightfully skeptical.

One day, you had grown bored of his recent antics that you started to head towards the front door and were just about to leave when something caught the corner of your eye; a discarded paintbrush. ‘What the-‘ you sighed before marching over to pick it up, less then amused. ‘I swear I’ll have to get on Raf’s ass for leaving his shit lying about sooner or later because one day someone’s going to get hurt-‘

SMACK

You looked over your shoulder to see a smirking Rafayel and everything started to come together for you.

‘You just smacked my ass.’

‘Yep.’ Rafayel replied, almost as if feeling accomplished.

‘But did you have to do it that fucking hard?’ You complained as you were now the one pouting and rubbing your sore backside as though you were an easily bruised peach.

Rafayel shrugged. ‘You did it to me first, so-‘

‘Yeah but I didn’t smack you nearly as hard as you did just now.’ You cut him off before muttering to yourself. ‘That’s gonna bruise and make sitting down a whole lot harder. Thanks for that.’

Rafayel pretended as though he didn’t hear you and moved past you to pick up the paint brush with a look upon his face as though he had been searching all over his impressive studio for awhile, pocketing it not long after. ‘Aww that must really suck, for you that is, hope you’ve got an excuse on hand for the instance that someone takes notice and starts asking questions.’ He then gave you a look of false sympathy, patting you on the shoulder before leaving you to focus on his latest painting.

You fucking hated him sometimes but couldn’t help but love him twice as hard for his stupid antics that you secretly adore.

Zayne aka ‘mr surgical knots.’

‘Is this really necessary?’ You grunt as you tried to break your hands free from the knot that was currently keeping your hands bound together.

‘Consider it a precaution for your,’ Zayne pauses to watch you struggle before continuing, ‘wandering hands.’

You chuckled humourlessly as you decided that it was hopeless in trying to get your hands untied, Zayne had done an excellent job in making sure that the knot was strong enough to keep your hands restrained but yet not tight enough to cause discomfort to your skin. ‘all this just because I might’ve touched your ass?’ You asked rhetorically, gauging at how his ears became red at the memory, before his evol kicked in and cooled his temperature significantly. ‘Seems a little excessive if you ask me but then again…it’s not exactly the worst punishment you could’ve come up with.’ You drawled, causing one of Zayne’s brows to raise in question.

‘So you find your current predicament to be…pleasurable?’ He inquires as he steps closer to you, making sure that he took his sweet time to admire his work and make internal pointers on how he could improve for instances where he maybe in need to use this certain knot again.

‘I mean you’re the one that’s putting words in my mouth.’ You replied, shrugging your shoulders,fully aware what this attitude of yours would bring should you keep it up.

Zayne’s jaw twitched unseeingly, he knew what you were doing and also knew that you were blatantly aware of what you were doing and so he tears this theory out by reaching a hand out, grabbing you by the restraint and swiftly pulled you closer to him until your chests were practically touching. Your eyes flickered to every inch of his face to see any signs but nothing; His face was still perfectly set in stone as it usually aside from his eyes, his eyes were glittering with an unusual look to them as they peered at you, that you couldn’t help but feel a little hot and flustered under such a unique gaze.

He then leans his head towards your ear and whispers in a low falsetto, ‘Would you like to find out just how pleasurable being tied can be?’ He drawls softly. ‘I can happily show you and help you get closely acquainted with human anatomy.’

[bunnylovesani]

A Birthday Affair 2

Summary: Past midnight is when the real birthday celebrations start and the best gift you could’ve asked for is to get stuffed. Full of cake, of course. You just better hope Padme doesn’t wake up.

Content warnings: P in V sex, oral sex, cheating, generally immoral activity lmao

WC: 3.2k

“Would you stop whining about it already? Give me a fucking minute to put on my shoes and I’ll get you the stupid replacement.” Anakin yells in Padme’s direction, on his way to buy you another birthday cake after the last one went up in flames.

“It’s not for me, it’s for her!” She points at you and Anakin sighs, giving you an apologetic look.

“Yeah well, she doesn’t seem to be half as fussed about it as you are.” He grabs the keys by the door and throws on a navy blue baseball cap. “Be back in twenty.” He seems to say only to you and the act of defiance doesn’t go unnoticed by Padme.

“God, what a jerk. I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately but he seems to be even more unbearable than usual.” She steps out onto the terrace of your shared apartment and you follow her. “You spend every day with us, tell me- has he said anything to you? You know, about us?”

You shuffle on your feet nervously and let out a huff. “No, nothing.” You decide to keep your lies simple and easy to follow.

“That’s even worse!” She whines. “He doesn’t mention me at all?”

“I didn’t say that.” You deflected nervously.

“So he does talk about me?” Noticing your hesitance, she puts her hand on your shoulder reassuringly. “Relax, you can tell me. You’re my best friend in the whole world, I’d never get mad at you for telling me the truth.”

“I got something that’d test that theory.” You think as you scratch the back of your head.

“Look Padme, I don’t know what to tell you- I mean he doesn’t talk badly about you, but he doesn’t mention you all that much either.”

She pauses for a moment and takes a step back, observing you closely.

“So what do you guys talk about then?” She shoots you a scrutinising glare.

“W-what?” You kick yourself for how suspicious you’re coming across.

“You heard me. We’ve been roommates for a good couple of months now.” She paces up and down the terrace. “When I’m at work and you two are alone, what do you talk about?”

“Oh, you know. The usual. Nothing special.” You reply honestly. Up until this evening, you hadn’t crossed any boundaries with Anakin- unless you count your fantasies. In which case you’d crossed them multiple times in multiple different positions.

She looks at you with narrowed eyes, processing your response for a moment before she releases a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been feeling a little paranoid recently.” She slumps down onto a plump deck chair and breathes in the cold night air. “He seems distant, like he’s not really here with me, you know?” You take a seat beside her, not sure whether it would be more morally reprehensible to comfort her or to change the subject.

“I don’t know Padme, it’s between you guys- I don’t wanna get involved.” You hear the irony in your words as soon as they leave your lips.

“Of course, ‘m sorry for being such a downer- and on the eve of your birthday too! I’m gonna throw you the biggest rager tomorrow, I’ve invited so many cute guys - just for you.” She rambles excitedly and you bite your lip in guilt.

A short while later, Anakin comes home to a very lukewarm reception from Padme, who complains that the cake he bought isn’t good enough- it wasn’t the right size, the right flavour or the right colour. You thought it was perfectly fine.

After a brief but heated argument, Padme decides to call it a night and retreats into her bedroom down the hall.

“I’m sorry about her.” Anakin whispers, treading lightly over to you. “She’s acting even more insufferable than I’m used to.”

“Funny, she said the same thing about you earlier.” You smile, knees feeling weak when he returns it with his own twinkling grin.

“I can’t wait until it’s you I get to go to bed with, not her.” He speaks softly, reaching up to brush his knuckles against your cheek.

“Me neither, but we can’t do things like that anymore. Not until you deal with Padme.” You vowed, looking over his shoulder.

“I know, I know, I’ll deal with that soon-“

“Anakin! Come to bed!” Padme interjects with a high-pitched and entirely repellant screech.

He rolls his eyes so far back into his head you wonder if they’ll ever come out again.

“I’m coming!” He yells, throwing his arms into the air with a measure of agitation you’d never seen before.

“I gotta go, angel. I’ll see you in the morning yeah? My pretty birthday girl.” He grabs your chin lightly before planting a peck on your forehead and retreating into the bedroom with an indignant sigh.

You stayed up for a little while longer, deciding to tidy the mess of pillows and plushies strewn along your bed. As you readjusted your teddies, you let out a dreamy moan at the memory of your romp earlier this evening. You snake your hand between your thighs as you sit down, feeling deliciously sore- head spinning with the reminder of how right it felt to have him buried inside you. Only being granted the pleasure of having him once wasn’t anywhere near enough- you felt like you were going through withdrawal, unable to form a single thought that wasn’t about him.

Resigning yourself to a long sleepless night, you slipped your most expensive silk nightie on and crawled under the covers. Glancing over to the clock on your nightstand, you saw that it was 1 minute past midnight- officially your birthday. You wondered if Ani got you anything nice, focusing on hypothetical presents rather than allowing your guilty conscience to creep in.

Speaking of creeping in, you hear the door knob squeak with a careful twist and a festive pyjama-clad Anakin enters your room.

“Ani! What are you doing here?” You whisper, motioning to securely close the door shut.

“Sorry, I couldn’t wait- just had to come see you. Happy birthday, baby.” He hands you a charming white gift box wrapped tightly in a pink silk bow, his large palm making it look tiny.

“Can I join you for a minute?” He gestures towards your bed and you’re torn.

“Oh Ani, you shouldn’t have. I-I don’t know, what if she catches us?” You try to reason but your attention has been stolen by the pretty box, which you eagerly pluck out of his hand.

“She’s out cold.” He perches at the foot of your bed. “You hear that? Sounds like a grizzly bear operating a chainsaw.”

You giggle at his words and peel back your covers, inviting him to lay beside you.

“Or a congested walrus.” You add.

“Driving a bulldozer.”

“Well now you’re just exaggerating.” You laugh into your pillow while Anakin shushes you, playfully hitting you with your teddy.

Clutching the box as you untie the delicate ribbon, you pull out a polished gold necklace with a satiny heart pendant- engraved with the letter A.

“Ani, I love it! But-“

“I bought this a week ago.” He interrupts. “My heart belonged to you long before you gave me your body. I want you to wear it and the next time I see Padme, I’ll tell her everything.”

“Really? The next time?” You ask incredulously. You’d expected this to drag on for a lot longer.

“First thing in the morning, angel.” He reassured you soothingly and you melted into his arms.

“Okay, help me put it on.” You tittered excitedly as he clipped the necklace in place, the delicate pendant lingering over your collarbones.

“Thank you. It’s perfect.” You held it in your hand and planted a soft kiss on his lips. Pulling away slightly, you darted between his dreamy eyes and his parted mouth, trying to resist temptation.

Before you could give in first, Anakin gripped your jaw with his hands, pulling you in impossibly close to kiss you deeply. You sucked on his tongue, moaning at the subtle taste of vanilla cake frosting and minty toothpaste.

“No, wait. We shouldn’t.” You proclaim breathily, though you know your empty words were nothing but a pitiful attempt at making you feel like you’d at least tried to abstain.

“Then why does it feel so right?” He silences you by pressing his lips against yours once more, all resistance fading away under his gentle touch.

You squirm under his weight as he climbs on top of you, kissing and sucking his way down to your thighs, which he pins open until the sides of your knees are lying firmly against the bed.

“Can I taste you, sweetheart?” He asks in a hushed tone, rubbing his thumbs against your soft skin.

You nod in response, hoping that on some level not speaking would make this whole thing less sinful. Anakin doesn’t press you for a verbal response, taking no time at all before he pulls your panties off and delves his tongue into your pussy. Your hand flies over your mouth as you slip out a breathy moan, the warm feeling of his mouth enveloping your clit overwhelming you. His nails dig into your fleshy hips and his grip around your thighs strengthens- swollen veins protruding through his forearms as the adrenaline courses through his blood.

You whimper into your heart-shaped pillow, gnawing at the frills as you feel the tip of Ani’s tongue working circles into your sensitive bud.

“You taste so good, baby.” He raises his head and you take in the sight before you: lips parted, wetness dribbling down his mouth and half-lidded eyes glaring at you lustily. “I can’t wait angel, ‘m sorry.” He mumbles, getting on his knees and dragging you down by the legs. He doesn’t bother removing his plaid pyjama bottoms, simply pulling them down and letting his cock spring up over the waistband, achingly hard. You can practically see it throbbing, the tip a glistening dark pink.

“Can I? Please, baby.” He whines, rubbing his tip along your soaked folds. You nod once again but he seems unsatisfied.

“Talk.” He demands simply. “It still counts as fucking even if you didn’t say a word.”

You frown at him, not appreciating how he just burst your bubble.

“Fine.” You huff and he raises an eyebrow.

“Are you giving me attitude?” He comes closer, tip kissing your entrance. “‘cus now would be the wrong time to do that.” He hisses and slides right in, filling you up all at once and giving you no time to adjust to his size. You mewl and writhe beneath him, gripping the sheets as he puts all his body weight on you and covers his hand firmly over your mouth.

“Do you want her to hear us? Shut up and take it.” He spits venomously as he gives you deep and slow thrusts, his cock reaching all the way up to your guts. You moan helplessly as he holds you in a near headlock, silenced with his strong arms and legs pinned wide open to make way for him. Your legs tremble as your pussy greedily accepts his length, squeezing it with its plush walls.

“Slutty little pussy, ’s gripping me so tight.” He grins against your neck. You’re not sure what it was about sex that brought out such a dominant and mean side to Anakin- but you weren’t complaining. The sound of arousal filled the room, your wet slickness gushing against him as his balls slapped against your ass. Hearing the lewd sounds, he slowed down a little, cautiously guiding his cock into you in such a way that would elicit the least amount of noise.

Just as you fell into an entrancingly good rhythm, a knock was heard at the door.

“Hey, you sleeping? Anakin’s gone somewhere.” Padme’s sleepy voice reverberates through the door.

You look to Anakin for guidance with an expression of panic but he looks completely calm- doing nothing besides slowly removing his hand away from your mouth, still sheathed in you. You consider not replying and pretending you’re asleep but quickly realise the light of the lamp shining under your doorway is a dead giveaway.

“Um, I’ve just gone to sleep now.” You answered with bated breath, wondering why Anakin hadn’t pulled out yet. “Has he really? Dunno where he could’ve gone.”

As if this exchange wasn’t challenging enough, Anakin begins fucking into you again, a wild smirk plastered on his face as he thrusts in and out.

“Ugh can I come in?” She whines, no doubt wanting to rant about her failing relationship. The hunk on top of you reaches down and starts rubbing your clit, staring into you with great amusement as you unsuccessfully attempt to bat him off.

“Uh- um, no Padme I’m sleeping, ah we’ll talk tomorrow!” You tremble, hoping your words didn’t come out too shaky.

“What are you doing in there? Are you okay?” Suddenly the door swings wide open and Padme walks in on the sight of her boyfriend on top of her best friend. You only catch a glimpse of her face for a moment- a screwed up expression of horror and disgust- before she turns around and reaches for the vase on top of your chest of drawers. Anticipating her reaction, Anakin towers over you protectively as Padme hurls the glass vase in your direction- the water spraying over you both as it flies over the bed, smashing into a million tiny pieces against the wall.

“You fucking whore!” She screams. “And you! You jerk! How could you fuck my best friend?!” Anakin throws an unphased glance her way for a moment before turning his gaze towards you, brushing his hand against your face gently and locking your lips in a soft kiss. The look of adoration he gives you, ignoring Padme completely, reassures you that you are the only one worth his attention.

“Oh, I’m gonna be fucking sick.” She splutters as she walks out of the room, slamming the door shut and mumbling curses to herself.

“Ani, get off! I need to go talk to-“

“You don’t need to do anything other than be in this moment right now, with me.” He pins you down by the wrists and glares at you, pushing in until the very base of his cock is flush against you. You want to fight him, to get up and chase after your friend but the pleasure has made your legs numb.

“You can leave when I’ve made you cum.” He rasps, resuming his heavy thrusts and you can’t do anything other than cry out his name- no point being quiet now that she knows, right?

“That’s it baby, let everyone know who you belong to.” He moans, brows upturning and mouth parted. He looked so pretty like this, damp curls brushing against his forehead and plump lips formed into an inviting o shape. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your throat ran dry as you felt the tip of his smooth cock gliding roughly against that spot that drove you crazy.

“Fuck Ani, ‘m gonna -“ The words flew out your mouth as your release took you by surprise, seizing your whole body in ecstasy and eliciting a torrent of guttural moans from your pretty lips. He buried his face into your chest, groaning against your bare tits as he joined you in cumming, painting your walls with his seed.

Ani was nothing if not a man of his word- so he rolled off you straight after, freeing you to leave.

“I would advise against what you’re about to do.” He speaks calmly, covering his lower half in your sheets and stretching his toned arms out before placing them beneath his head.

You ignore his comment, throwing on a bathrobe and leaving the room to see Padme- furiously stuffing articles of clothing into various bags. A nauseating fear overcomes you when you realise you have nothing to say to her.

“Don’t.” She snaps, noticing your lingering presence. “Don’t even come near me. You are dead to me.” You twiddle your thumbs standing in the doorway of her room, not sure what you were expecting.

“I’m sorry Padme, I really am. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” You mumble, barely above a whisper.

“You didn’t mean to slip and fall on his cock?” She has angry tears pouring frantically down her round face. “That doesn’t seem like the kind of thing that happens by accident.

“I meant I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You clarify gently.

“Well, you did. Oh my God, I can see his cum pouring down your leg.” She points in disgust and you cross your legs. “Is that what I saw earlier? I thought you spilt water or something, God I’m so stupid.”

“No, you’re not, this is all-“

“You’re right. This is all your fault, you dumb fucking slut. You’re nothing but a brainless whore.”

“That’s enough.” Anakin emerges, dressed in nothing but his boxers, a thin veil of glowing sweat coating his toned abdomen. “This was all my fault. If you have anything to say, you say it to me.” You cower behind him, thankful for his protective presence.

“Oh, I have plenty to say.” She barges past you both, carrying her bags out into the hallway. “A year’s relationship thrown away for a quick fuck. With that skank.”

“Don’t call her that.” He gruffly responds and you can’t help but think he’s being harsh.

“Spare me. What are you, her guard dog?” She scoffs, tears dried and replaced with a scornful bitterness. “You’re going to regret this. When the novelty wears off and you realise she means nothing to you, you’re going to come crawling back.”

“That’s highly unlikely.” He looks unperturbed, amused even - strangely nonchalant over the dramatic events unfurling before him.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” She jibes, throwing her coat on and getting ready to launch another venomous attack your way when she’s interrupted.

“I love her.” Anakin states simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“You what?” Padme stops dead in her tracks, looking aghast.

“You what?” You parrot softly and he turns to face you, tenderly taking your face into his gentle hands.

“I love you.” He repeats, not an ounce of shame or regret in his words.

“I-I love you too, Ani.” You grab onto his wrists and gaze into his eyes with an adoring vulnerability.

“Rot in hell, you crazy motherfuckers.” Padme peels her eyes off the appalling sight before her, grabbing her bags and leaving the apartment with a thunderous slam of the bolted door.

You watch her leave with a troubled countenance painted across your face- but Ani never takes his eyes off you.

“I guess it’s just us now.” He smiles peacefully and you feel all your worries melt away.

“I guess it is.” You smile back, wrapping your arms around his strong neck and joining your lips in a passionate, cathartic kiss.

It’s not that you didn’t like Padme, nor that you were the kind of woman to choose a man over her friends. It was just him. You couldn’t help it- from this day forward you knew you would always pick Ani over anything else in this universe. Without a shadow of a doubt, he was your soulmate.

@crazy4hotmen @erinkeifer @mortalheartache @arzua10 @mugwump327

Part 1 here