#honestly though that look works for him. somehow

[gf2bellamy]

haircut — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: you're caught off guard by spencer's haircut content warnings: mention of stuffing yourself with ice cream and popcorn a/n: boyband spencer makes me feel things so i just had to write this

You pushed open the door to the conference room. The scent of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air, mixing with the faint scent of paper and ink from the stacks of case files spread across the table. 

Penelope Garcia was already seated. She looked up from her laptop the moment you entered, her eyes lighting up as she greeted you. 

"Good morning, sunshine!" she chirped, holding out a file for you. 

You smiled, the warmth of her energy making the early morning a little more bearable. “Good morning,” you replied, taking your seat beside her. “Thanks, Pen.” 

She gave you a playful wink. “Always here to deliver your daily dose of doom and gloom.” 

You chuckled, shaking your head as you leaned back in your chair, settling in. “How was your weekend?” you asked, genuinely curious. 

Penelope sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. “Oh, my dear, it was divine—a full 48 hours of zero crime, binge-watching the most ridiculous reality shows, and eating a huge amount of popcorn. A true masterpiece of relaxation.What about you?” Penelope asked, her eyes fixed on her computer screen as she attempted to pull up the PowerPoint for the case briefing. 

You sighed, stretching slightly in your chair. “Same thing,” you admitted. “Spent the weekend on the couch, barely moving, while shoveling buckets of ice cream down like it was my full-time job.” 

Penelope gasped dramatically, turning to you with wide eyes. “You didn’t move? At all?” 

“Barely,” you confirmed, already missing the comfort of your couch. “Honestly, I think I might have become part of it.” 

She snorted, shaking her head as she finally got the PowerPoint to cooperate. “Respect,” she said, clicking through the slides. 

Before you could respond, the conference room door opened again, and the rest of the team started trickling in. Hotch took a seat next to you, as he opened his files, while JJ leaned toward Penelope, the two of them quickly falling into conversation.

You glanced around the table, scanning the usual faces—until you noticed an empty seat. 

Spencer’s seat. 

Your brows furrowed slightly. He was never late. If anything, he was usually one of the first to arrive, sitting quietly with his coffee, already halfway through the case materials before anyone else had even opened their files. 

When JJ and Penelope began presenting the case, you had no time to let your anxieties cloud your judgement regarding the empty seat. voices pulling you back into work mode.

That was until JJ suddenly smirked and said, “Well, hello.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned to her, confused by her reaction—until you followed her gaze. 

And then, your mouth fell open. 

Spencer had just walked in. 

But not the Spencer you had been expecting. 

He looked… different. 

Not in a bad way. Not even in a way you had the right words for. Just—different.

His normally tousled curls had been cut shorter, neater, styled in a way that framed his face and somehow made him look even more—God help you—attractive. It was a change you hadn’t been prepared for, and from the silence that briefly passed over the team, you weren’t the only one caught off guard. 

Spencer gave a small, almost shy smile at JJ’s reaction before heading to his seat. He settled down on the other side of Hotch, setting his bag on the table. 

Hotch barely looked up from his file as he raised an eyebrow and deadpanned, “What, did you join a boyband?” 

A small frown creased Spencer’s face. “No,” he replied, the petulant tone in his voice making a few people chuckle. 

Conversation quickly resumed, the team diving back into case details as though nothing had happened. But you? You were barely processing a single word. 

Your mind was too busy reeling. 

Your eyes kept drifting back to Spencer, betraying you as they traced over his new look. The sharpness of his jaw, the way his now-shorter curls curled just slightly at his temples, the way his freshly cut hair made his cheekbones stand out a little more. 

This was dangerous. Very dangerous. 

Because if you had thought Spencer Reid was cute before, you had no idea how you were going to survive this version of him sitting across the room from you every day. 

As expected, Hotch wrapped up the briefing with his usual stern voice. “Wheels up in thirty.” 

The room stirred with movement as everyone gathered their files and bags, preparing to head to the jet. You slung your bag over your shoulder, but not before sneaking a few more glances in Spencer’s direction. 

Unfortunately, you weren’t as subtle as you thought. 

At some point during the meeting, Derek had caught you staring—not once, not twice, but multiple times. And when your eyes met his across the table, he grinned knowingly, amusement flashing in his gaze. 

You had felt your face heat instantly and quickly looked away, pretending to be very focused on your files. 

Smooth. Real smooth. 

You got up, ready to make a quick exit before you could embarrass yourself further, but just as you turned toward the door, Spencer’s voice stopped you. 

“Hey—uh, is it okay if I ride with you?” 

It was such a simple question. A question he had asked before. Sometimes Spencer drove with Derek, other times he rode with you. It was normal. Casual. 

So why did it suddenly feel like the most dangerous thing in the world? 

You swallowed, gripping the strap of your bag a little tighter. Your usual response would have been an easy, effortless “Yes. Of course.” But today? Today, you could barely meet his eyes without feeling like your brain short-circuited. 

Because he looked that good. 

Still, you forced yourself to nod, offering a quick, “Sure.” 

You kept your gaze trained on the hallway as you stepped out of the room, hoping that if you avoided looking at him, your heart would stop hammering against your ribs. 

Unfortunately for you, Spencer had already fallen into step beside you. You stepped into the elevator together, the metallic doors sliding shut with a soft ding.

A silence settled between you, not entirely uncomfortable, but not the easy kind you were used to with Spencer either. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him tapping his shoe against the floor—a habit you’d picked up on over the years. Spencer only did that when he was nervous. 

That surprised you. 

He never did that around you. 

You and Spencer were close—so close that sometimes it felt like too close. Like the kind of close that made your heart race when he so much as looked at you a certain way. And today, with his new haircut and the way his suit fit just right, that feeling was overwhelming. 

Your eyes flickered to the floor, watching his shoe tap against the tile before glancing up at him. 

Big mistake. 

Because the moment you did, your heart flipped in your chest. He looked so good, and that single thought refused to leave your mind no matter how hard you tried to push it away. 

You quickly looked away, biting your lip, hoping he hadn’t noticed your staring. 

But of course, he did. 

“If it’s a bother,” Spencer suddenly spoke, his voice quiet as the elevator hummed downward. “I can drive with Derek to the airport instead.” 

Your stomach twisted at the suggestion. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him in the car with you—it was that you wanted it too much. And now he had clearly picked up on your avoidance, which only made your embarrassment ten times worse. 

“No, Spencer,” you said quickly, shaking your head as the elevator dinged again, signaling your arrival. “You’re not a bother at all.” 

You barely gave him time to respond before stepping out of the elevator, making a beeline for the parking garage. 

Spencer followed closely behind, and even though you weren’t looking at him, you could feel his gaze on you. 

You unlocked the car, and Spencer slid into the passenger seat beside you. Normally, by this point, the two of you would already be knee-deep in some random discussion—whether it was a case, a bizarre fact he recently read, or a debate about which movies held up over time. 

But right now? 

Silence. 

Not the comfortable kind. Not the kind that came from years of understanding each other so well that words weren’t always necessary. 

This was different. 

Spencer was quiet because he sensed something was off. He was a profiler, after all—he could read people better than anyone, and he had definitely picked up on your shift in behavior.

And you? You were silent because you feared that if you opened your mouth, you’d do something completely mortifying. Like stutter over your words. Or say something dumb. Or worse—blurt out the fact that you had spent the entire morning internally spiraling over how ridiculously good he looked today. 

Your fingers curled around the steering wheel, your gaze fixed ahead. 

Beside you, Spencer set his bag down at his feet, shifting slightly in his seat. You could feel the weight of his stare even without looking at him. 

“I’m sorry, Spencer,” you said suddenly, staring straight ahead. “I promise there’s nothing wrong. I guess I’m just… off today.” You exhaled, fingers tapping absently against the wheel. The last thing you wanted was for him to think he wasn’t welcome here. “And I am happy to drive us to the airport.” 

Spencer was quiet for a moment, but then, in a soft voice, he asked, “Do… do you want to talk about it?” 

You swallowed hard, pulling out of the parking lot. The road stretched ahead, but your mind was a tangled mess of thoughts, each one worse than the last. 

What were you supposed to say? 

Oh hey, Spencer, funny thing—I literally cannot look at you right now because you’re so insanely attractive that I might actually die on the spot? 

Yeah. Probably not the best thing to say to a coworker—and more importantly, to the friend you’d been secretly crushing on for longer than you cared to admit. 

So instead, you shook your head, offering the safest response you could manage. 

“No, it’s nothing.” 

You weren’t sure if he believed you. But for now, he didn’t push. 

The drive to the airport was short, but thankfully, Spencer had started talking about the case almost immediately. You were relieved—you could focus on the conversation instead of the way your heart kept stupidly skipping beats.

Plus, driving gave you an excuse to not meet his eyes. 

That was the problem, wasn’t it? His eyes. 

Warm and intelligent, always analyzing, always seeing you in ways that made you feel exposed. So, you kept your attention on the road, discussing victim profiles and behavioral patterns. 

Before you knew it, you were pulling into the airport lot. 

You parked carefully, turning off the engine as the conversation about the case trailed off. Both of you got out, grabbing your bags before heading toward the jet. 

It wasn’t until you were walking side by side—no distractions, no case details to focus on—that Spencer suddenly asked, “What do you think of…” He hesitated. “My haircut?” 

You froze for half a second, your grip tightening on the strap of your go-bag. 

Oh. 

Oh, no. 

You hadn’t been prepared for that. 

“Uhm—” You stuttered, caught completely off guard, your brain scrambling for a normal, casual response. 

You walked slower, suddenly hyperaware of his presence beside you. Spencer matched your steps, his hands tucked into his pockets as he glanced at you, waiting. 

Finally, you swallowed and forced yourself to speak. “It looks great,” you said softly. “I like it.” 

Spencer tilted his head slightly, watching you. “Yeah?” His lips curved into a small, pleased smile. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, willing yourself to keep it together. 

But then—because the universe apparently wanted you to suffer—your mouth betrayed you. 

“I mean, it makes you look…” You trailed off, but Spencer was still watching you, waiting for you to finish, and oh god, you were already in too deep. You cleared your throat. “Really handsome.” 

Spencer blinked. 

Your stomach dropped. 

You hadn’t meant to say that out loud. 

Heat immediately crept up your neck, and you snapped your gaze forward, walking faster in hopes of escaping your own embarrassment. But Spencer—being Spencer—was too damn observant for his own good. 

His eyes widened slightly, something clicking in his mind. His posture straightened, his brows lifting ever so slightly as realization dawned. 

“That’s why you’ve been avoiding my eyes.” 

It wasn’t a question. 

Your breath hitched. 

“No, no,” you said quickly, shaking your head as you picked up your pace, the jet now in sight. If you just got inside, if you just sat down and pretended this conversation never happened, maybe—maybe—you could salvage what was left of your dignity. 

But Spencer wasn’t letting it go that easily. 

“Wait—” He reached for your wrist, his touch light but enough to stop you in your tracks. 

You swallowed hard. 

Slowly, reluctantly, you turned to face him, keeping your eyes trained somewhere near his shoulder instead of his face. 

Spencer let out a soft breath, studying you. “So… I was right?” 

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Your heart was pounding. 

“About you avoiding my eyes,” he clarified, his voice softer now, more careful. 

You exhaled sharply, forcing a nervous laugh as you rubbed the back of your neck. “I—no, I just—” You sighed, giving up mid-sentence. Lying to Spencer Reid was pointless. He could probably read you better than you could. 

His fingers twitched at his side, like he was debating whether or not to reach for you again. Instead, he tilted his head, his eyes flickering across your face, searching for something. “You think I look… handsome?” 

You groaned, shutting your eyes for a brief moment before opening them again. “Spencer, please.” 

But he wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t smug. He looked genuinely curious. 

And that—somehow—was worse. 

You sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Yes, okay? I think you look… really good.” You avoided his gaze, focusing on a spot over his shoulder. “Too good, actually, which is kind of annoying because it makes it really hard to—” You stopped yourself before you could say concentrate at work like a normal human being, realizing how that sounded. 

Spencer’s lips parted slightly, as if surprised by your admission. But then, slowly, his mouth curved into a small smile. 

Not a smirk, not teasing—just… soft. 

Warm. 

And something about that undid you a little. 

“I didn’t think you noticed things like that about me,” he admitted quietly. 

Your eyes snapped to his. 

Was he serious? 

You let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head. “Spencer, are you kidding? Of course I notice things like that about you.” 

His smile faltered just slightly, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing his face before he looked down, like he was processing that. 

The jet door opened in the distance, voices echoing faintly from inside, but neither of you moved. 

Then, after a long moment, Spencer glanced back up at you. 

“I think you look really good all the time,” he said simply. 

Your breath caught. 

Before you could respond, a voice called out from the jet—Derek, naturally. “You two coming or what?” 

You cleared your throat, tearing your gaze away from Spencer’s as you took a step toward the jet. “Yeah, coming!” you called back, trying to keep your voice steady. 

Spencer fell into step beside you, hands in his pockets, but his small smile remained. 

And as you both climbed the steps to the jet, you couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—this conversation wasn’t over yet. 

[candyandcyberware]

Primal instincts

Aaron Hotchner x reader

You lean against a tree as you watch your boyfriend stretch his limbs with sheer determination visible on his face. It’s clear he can’t wait to start the chase, and he loves the idea of being the predator that hunts you–the prey, the precious prize–in the woods. When he notices the way you’re watching him, he flashes a smug smirk at you, as if he was silently telling you there’s no way you can get away from him. Not like you want to, though. 

This little game is something you two have been planning for a while now, a special activity he heard about at an unbelievably boring gala. Who would have thought that an event with a bunch of boring old people can be the very place where he listens to a drunk heir’s speech about playing it with his boyfriend somewhere near Seattle during a business trip there. He even went into details, telling Aaron things he honestly didn’t want to hear. 

The next day he told you the story, just for the laughs, but then he thought more about it as he watched you do mundane things around the apartment and he began to drop hints here and there, during the most casual conversations in the car, or when you were watching a movie on the couch after Jack went to bed. “You would look so good from behind when you’re trying to get rid of me, though,” he said. At first, you thought he was joking, but then a few days later another comment came as he nonchalantly said, “I want to play rough with you.”

So, you agreed, and now it’s time to play the game he prepared so carefully. Jack is staying with his aunt, which means the two of you have the whole night to play together, and he chose a location that was an hour long drive away from his apartment, so he even reserved a hotel room to stay in. But now as you’re watching him, you begin to have some doubts. Maybe you’re just nervous since you’ve never done anything like this, but what if you get hurt? You can always trip in a root or something. 

“Baby, it’s gonna be fine. It will be fun, I promise,” he says as he closes the gap between you and puts his hands on your hips to pull you against himself. 

Sometimes you wonder if he can actually read minds, because somehow he always knows what’s going on inside your head. But maybe it’s just his profiler side putting in the work every now and then to help him out. Either way, it’s equally cute and annoying, but you’re not really complaining. As you wrap your arms around his neck and pull his head down for a quick kiss, you can’t help but flash a playful smile at him. 

With his hand pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, he looks at you with the kind of adoration you’ve barely seen since the first days of your relationship. “Are you ready?” The question is simple, but it still makes you think hard. After some time, though, you nod with a smile. “Good. I’ll give you a headstart.”

He doesn’t have to say it twice, you immediately start running into the woods, praying to whatever is out there that can protect you not to let you trip and fall flat on your face. The darkness swallows everything in the distance, you have no idea where you’re heading, but this game isn’t about thinking, this is strictly about your instincts. You need to run, that’s all you can and have to think about now. 

The chilly night air makes you shiver when you stop for a second to take a look around and listen to any sound that might tell you if Aaron is getting near, but all you can hear is the pounding of your heart in your ears. You’re not even sure what it is you feel right now. Is it fear? Is it excitement? Or can it be the mixture of these two? 

Whatever it is, it’s addicting, you want to be in this state of mind forever, you love the thrill this game gives you. You might be the prey now, someone who’s supposed to escape the predator, but all you want is your boyfriend finally catching up and showing you what hides behind his ever-present self-control, what primal needs lurk in the background, waiting to have you just the way he wants. 

Your breathing finally slows down, so you begin to wonder which direction to go next. You have a GPS, you can find your way back to the car, therefore you can go anywhere you want. But as you think, you suddenly hear the sound of a twig that was stepped on, and your attention turns to the task of finding out where it’s coming from. You listen, you even hold your breath to be more quiet, but there’s nothing. He probably realized you could hear that and stopped. Or maybe it was some animal. 

“Got you!” Aaron says happily as he wraps his arms around your waist from behind, keeping you close to his chest. 

You turn your head a little, only to be kissed right away, and you can’t help but turn in his arms to face him properly. Instead of kissing you again, though, he takes a few steps forward in an attempt to push you back, just until you’re caged between him and a tree. His warm brown eyes are watching your every move, paying attention to every little detail he might find important later, mostly regarding the game you’ve been playing. Did you enjoy it? Are there any signs of you liking it so much you might want to do it again some other time? 

He pulls you out of your thoughts with another kiss, a much messier, hungrier kiss that showcases how badly he wants you. That sense of urgency as he slowly slips his hand under your shirt makes you moan into his mouth, a sound that’s swallowed by him right away, and soon you can feel his hands move to your back to unclip your bra with his skilled hand. Once he’s done, he grabs the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head along with the bra, then throws them both on the ground. 

It hurts you to see those precious items on the ground, surrounded by insects and dirt, two things you would never let them near. But Aaron took the lead, he’s the one making the rules here, and it will be his credit card that pays for the dry cleaner and the new pieces you’ll buy anyway. As a token of your gratitude, you will let him join you for lingerie shopping. He’ll see you in everything and he can make the final decision of which piece he wants to regularly take off of you. 

A jolt of electricity shoots through your body when you feel his teeth sink into your shoulder near your neck, and it’s clear that it will leave a mark eventually. Your eyes close as you focus on the way his warm, wet mouth is moving over to your collarbone in a way that makes it clear you’ll be covered in hickeys and bite marks tomorrow. 

And honestly? You will wear these marks with pride.

[dross-the-fish]

Love Never Dies- Thoughts and Reactions

This might end up being split into multiple parts but I am not finished talking about Love Never Dies. I did give it a rewatch to refresh myself and...oof. This play needs to be taken out back and shot because that is what it did to every single character in it. NO ONE looks good. Not even Christine. Let's start there. Let's talk about what this show does with Christine because we have completely reduced this character to nothing but her voice. What does Erik miss about Christine after ten years of pining? Her voice. He just wants her to sing for him one more time. The only thing he ever really mentions about Christine is her voice. Though I can't really fault him because if we're being serious about Christine's character...

What does she have outside of her voice? Nothing. Somehow LND Christine has even less personality than she did in the OG musical. She is a cardboard angel that other people pine over, try to control, or envy. She has almost no agency. I said before, I suspect that Andrew Lloyd Webber hates women and Christine does not come out of that unscathed. She spends pretty much all of the musical being bullied by Raoul, mothering Gustave, or being threatened by Erik when he and she aren't reminiscing about that one time they banged 10 years ago. Seriously what even the fuck was "Beneath a Moonless Sky?" For a song about how two characters couldn't resist each other neither of them seem particularly filled with desire. Christine is recoiling in horror and disbelief and Erik looks like a 15 year old who thinks sniffing his crush's hair is peak sensuality.

Mmmm....sexy. But whatever. Christine says at the end of the song she woke up to swear her love and was ready to dump Raoul but Erik had skedaddled so she ran back to Raoul. You read that right. Christine was going to pick Erik after they banged it out and he left and that is the only reason Christine is with Raoul. Seriously Andy? You're going to make her regret picking Raoul over Erik when she didn't even actually DO that? Erik made the choice for her?

*internal screaming* Erik, seriously, how are you going to be upset that she's moved on with Raoul if YOU left HER? Do you really think you have the right to coerce her to sing for you one more time when you were the one who broke it off? The hell is wrong with you? Of course when Christine resists he immediately goes to threatening her child.

When I say Erik is the WORST I mean it. He is reprehensible in this.

But this is about Christine. We'll get to Erik later. LND Erik deserves his own post.

There's honestly not much more to write about Christine. She spends a lot of time cowering from or trying to appease Raoul. She worries about her son and her death is honestly so unwarranted. When I say ALW's work has an undercurrent of meanspiritedness I mean shit like this. Christine hasn't really done anything wrong. I guess she cheated on Raoul 10 years ago? But well she was going to leave him and only stayed because her first option bailed on her? She didn't do anything to Meg. She's been living 10 years in an abusive marriage and her crazy ex who kidnapped her came back to threaten her kid and coerce her to sing his music one more time. Then she just...gets shot. She dies. It adds nothing to the story that she dies. It doesn't feel earned or justified in anyway. It just feels miserable for misery's sake. It's almost unceremonious the way they ax her off because it's not even intentional. Meg misfires the gun because Erik fucks up in trying to talk her down. Christine's death isn't even about Christine herself. It's about Meg and Erik. It's such a useless and stupid death to give this character. How old even is she? Supposedly she's around 18-20 in the original musical (we're ignoring the 2004 movie that puts her at 16) and this is 10 years later? She's barely 30 but she ends up a casualty to everyone else's vanity, jealousy, and selfishness. I feel like we're supposed to find it tragic but it doesn't hit. It's a meaningless and undignified end to a character that was given no agency over her own life or her death.

[alaia777]

omg I got so excited when I saw your recent post😚😚 can I request “of course it’s you, confessing to someone at a time like this!” OR “we should just run away” with rin?🙏🏼 tysmmmm🫶🏼

helloooo! i might’ve gone a little crazy with this one—it’s got like 1800 words—but i really hope you like it! :’)

you heard from the cashier at the store that rin was back in town. you lived a couple of houses down from his parents place, but you two were never really close. sure, you were in the same class, but he was always too proud to actually acknowledge any of you.

you did, however, have a little crush on him. okay—a lot of a crush. at school, you always used to greet him loudly with “hey, rin!”, sit next to him whenever you could, conveniently “forget” your pen just so you could borrow his even though you had at least three in your bag, and ask him if he needed help with homework. you’d fake confusion on assignments just to make him explain them to you, cheer way too loudly when he got picked for sports activities—even if you weren’t on his team—and accidentally run into him in the hallways like, whoops, sorry! (it was never an accident).

honestly, looking back, you have no idea how he didn’t just move schools.

but that crush you used to have on him? yeah, that was long gone—at least, that’s what you told yourself. after all, he had chosen to follow his dream and leave this town behind, and you didn’t blame him one bit. if you had the chance, you probably would’ve done the same.

but now, sitting face-to-face with him, divided only by a dinner table, you started to realize maybe that crush wasn’t as gone as you thought.

this whole dinner was your neighbor’s idea. ever since her husband passed, she had been hosting these little gatherings every couple of months, saying it made her feel less alone. your family, along with two others who lived nearby—one of them being the itoshis—would all come together to keep her company. usually, these dinners bored you out of your mind, forcing you to sit through hours of polite small talk about things like gardening, overpriced home repairs, or who was getting promoted at the bank.

but today was different.

rin was here. in front of you. somehow, that one fact alone had completely changed the trajectory of this dinner.

should you get up and make a toast because rin is back? no, that would be ridiculous. you could already picture it: “to rin, the brother of the football prodigy, the underdog, the man who’s clearly still trying to outdo his older brother—let’s hope he finally does it.” you could already feel the awkward silence that would follow and the way he’d probably shoot daggers toward you. no, you weren’t that person anymore. and honestly, it would probably kill any chance of ever getting together with him, not that you were daydreaming about being with him or anything.

you were so lost in your daydream that you didn’t even hear your name being called. it was your sweet neighbor, who had been talking to you the whole evening with that warm smile of hers.

“honey, can you please go upstairs? in the closet next to the bathroom, there are some gifts i prepared for everyone. i just want to show my appreciation for always being here for me, and it’s something i worked really hard on doing.”

“sure, of course,” you said without hesitation, already moving toward the stairs. but as you started to climb, you overheard the conversation at the table.

“rin, be a sweetheart and help her, i’m afraid she might lose track of time in there,” your neighbor said.

you almost tripped on the stairs. rin? you glanced back over your shoulder, not sure whether to be annoyed or grateful. but there he was, with that usual uninterested look on his face, standing up from his chair with the slightest hint of reluctance.

he didn’t even glance your way as he walked past you, but you could feel the faintest hint of warmth creeping up your neck. maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all. you weren’t sure whether to feel irritated by his presence or oddly comforted, but you were about to find out.

when you got to the top of the stairs, he was already inside the tiny room, looking around for that pair of gifts. you gasped when you saw the inside of it—it was full of dolls, cool antiquities, and books. it literally felt like you’d walked into an antique store.

“oh my god, look at this doll, it looks just like you!” you said, bolting into the room and past rin, causing the door to close behind you by mistake.

“do you think if i pinch its cheeks, you’ll feel it?” you teased, holding up the doll and inspecting it, completely oblivious to rin’s reaction.

while you were looking around the room and trying not to touch everything that sparked your interest, rin had already found the gifts and was preparing to open the door to leave you in here alone. except the door wouldn’t budge when he tried to open it.

“what did you do?” you heard him ask, his voice edged with irritation.

“what are you talking about? i didn’t do anything.”

“you locked us in here.”

“no, i didn’t.”

you definitely didn’t, but maybe this was the universe giving you a chance to finally confess your feelings? or maybe this was your neighbor’s plan, or maybe your body subconsciously did it. or maybe—while you were thinking of all the possibilities—rin was trying to fix the door, trying the lock, pushing it. you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. it would be so funny to hear him scream for help to the guests downstairs.

“can you actually do something instead of making that weird face and holding that doll? you look creepy,” he muttered, frustration evident in his voice.

“it’s not just a doll,” you said, holding it up with an exaggerated amount of pride, “it’s you. look, it has your hair, your eyes, and it even has that little wrinkle between its eyebrows from frowning.”

you grinned widely, clearly enjoying the situation, but rin’s face was still set in a frown, his impatience growing by the second.

“can you try and smile a little? how did little me even have a crush on such a grumpy person?” you said, absentmindedly stroking the doll’s bangs. it wasn’t until you were met with silence—no snarky remark, no scoff, nothing—that you realized your mistake.

“oh my god, i didn’t mean it like that! like, it’s not like i could ever see myself dating you or anything because you’re so uptight—wait, no, that sounded worse—i mean, there’s nothing wrong with having a little crush! not that i still have one! maybe just a tiny bit, but that’s normal, right? i mean, you see—”

“of course it’s you, confessing to someone at a time like this,” rin deadpanned, looking thoroughly unimpressed—but you swore the tips of his ears were red.

and was this really a bad time? sure, the dolls in the room were a little creepy, the light kept flickering like a horror movie cliché, and, okay, you were technically stuck. but if rin would just get down on one knee and declare his undying love for you, this could actually be kind of romantic—

before you could finish that thought, you heard a soft click, and the door swung open to reveal your mom standing there, her eyes flicking between the two of you with mild suspicion.

“oh, there you are,” she said, raising an eyebrow before turning to rin. “come on, i’ll help you with the gifts.”

without another word, she stepped inside and started gathering the neatly wrapped packages, completely unaware of whatever just happened in that tiny room. rin, on the other hand, shot you a glance—one that very clearly said this conversation is not over.

you need to disappear. yep, that’s it. this is easily top five most embarrassing moments of your life. you need to buy a ticket to another country, get plastic surgery, change your hairstyle, and become an oil rig worker. maybe even change your name—something dramatic.

you’re still cycling through options when you finally make it back downstairs, sliding into your seat at the table without a word. you don’t even realize rin isn’t sitting in front of you anymore—not until he speaks.

“i’m picking up a cake for my mom tomorrow at the local bakery.” his voice is casual, like he’s commenting on the weather. then, just as effortlessly, he adds, “you can come if you want.”

you turn your head so fast it’s a miracle you don’t get whiplash, staring at him speechlessly. he, on the other hand, doesn’t even look at you, eyes fixed straight ahead like this is the most normal thing in the world.

at what, you don’t know. you don’t care. all you know is that your brain is short-circuiting, and you might need to add “fake your own death” to your escape plan.

“oh yeah, sure, totally dude.” why did you say dude? that was so weird. he’s definitely going to leave this table and never talk to you again. say goodbye to the little bakery date. i mean, at least you hope it’s a date, right?

but then, you catch a glimpse of him. his lips twitch, forming the tiniest smile—one that’s gone just as quickly as it appeared. for a second, you’re frozen, unsure of what to make of it.

you sit there for a moment, your mind racing. was that smile real? was he actually okay with this? the uncertainty swirls in your chest, but strangely enough, it doesn’t feel as overwhelming anymore. maybe, just maybe, this is the start of something new.

[eppysboys]

Peter Brown & Tommy Nutter

Peter Brown first spied Tommy Nutter in 1967, at a dinner party thrown by Brian Epstein in his Georgian town house on Chapel Street... It was a warm evening, summer, June or July. An intimate sit-down for a handful of people. Peter thought Tommy was remarkably cute, though Tommy, perhaps dazed by his surroundings and the famous host, gave no indication of even noticing Peter.

Afterwards, Brian had a conversaion with Peter in which he made some 'approving comments' about their young guest. It was not that Brian Epstein had any interest in Tommy for himself; despite his stiff-collar demeanour, he preferred rough trade to 'gay boys'. But he knew what Peter liked, and was, in that regard, always encouraging.

-

(The day after Brian Epstein's death)

The next day, [Peter] was standing in Brian's drawing room, looking through a window onto a street that had just been swept through by paparazzi, like a flash flood. He had already shared the news with the Beatles, who were still on their retreat in Wales with the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. Peter was numb, but starting to realise that he would be primary witness at the inevitable inquest. And that the enormous responsibility of running the Beatles' office would now fall squarely on his shoulders.

At that moment, the telephone rang. Peter walked across and picked it up.

'How are you?' asked Tommy Nutter, who had somehow acquired Brian's private number.

'Awful,' Peter said, 'Really awful.'

So the young man from the summer dinner party invited himself over for company and comfort.

-

On a Friday in August, Peter was sitting at his desk wrapping up some work when Paul McCartney called him on the telephone. For the previous few days, the Beatles had been working on a new single, an experimental track that had caused tension in the group - McCartney versus Harrison over guitar riffs - and raised the concern of their record producer, George Martin, who'd suggested it might be too long for radio play. Now it was nearly completed, and Paul asked Peter to come round for a first listen.

(Paul and John have Peter listen to 'Hey Jude', which he is impressed by and loves.)

Paul and John told Peter they wanted to go out and celebrate. But Peter demurred; he was to drive out to the country with Tommy for the weekend. Paul told him to call Tommy and bring him along; they had all met him by now, and there was no problem with Peter having a boyfriend.

When Peter called him using the studio payphone, Tommy refused, wilfully non-compliant. He didn't want to go out and celebrate in Soho. It took Paul to snatch the reciever out of Peter's hand and beg him to 'come hear this' before he finally surrended.

Tommy arrived at Trident and was installed in the armchair, told to prepare himself. The song was cued for a second play. As he then listened for the full seven minutes and eleven seconds, Paul and John watched him closely, trying to gauge his reaction.

After it was finished, Tommy remained impassive, unreadable. There was a long pause.

He told them he didn't like it.

The Beatles were 'crestfallen', Peter recalls, until they were informed this was Tommy's idea of a droll joke. Indeed, Tommy would eventually admit that 'Hey Jude' was 'the most incredible song... because we'd never heard anything like that before'. What impressed him was not so much its groundbreaking form, though, as how uncalculated it seemed. In Tommy's view, the Beatles hadn't set out to break the mould; they'd just wanted to express themselves. And expressing themselves - honestly expressing themselves - meant making the song in a way that happened, by the by, to be groundbreaking. 'It just came from within them,' he later said admiringly. 'That's what they wanted to do and they did it properly.'

"House of Nutter - The Rebel Tailor of Savile Row" by Lance Richardson

[brokenpieces-72]

New Balance

Note: This one has been sitting in my notes for a bit, and was inspired by a photo of Neil Ellice in a white sweater, and no mohawk. From there I got the idea of Soap surviving the bullet but there would still be consequences.

Amnesia, is what they told Johnny. They were able to provide him with proper living and even provided him with some work. He was encouraged to attend therapy but it wasn’t required. Some times he went if only to talk some stuff out. Johnny had a good life though. The neighbours were friendly, he had a contractor who hired him for consulting and odd jobs, decent income, and on occasion took in foster animals. Yet something always felt missing from his life. They didn’t tell him anything about his past. A clean slate, a fresh start. Then why did feel stale?

Johnny opened his eyes with a gasp and sat upright. Another dream about death. Honestly, he was considering returning to his therapist about it. He checked his clock and saw he’d woken up before his alarm again. Seriously 4AM? Again? He tried to go back to sleep but the image of a skull dressed in black kept burning into his mind. Johnny, fed up with his fruitless efforts sat up and pulled out the notepad he’d started keeping by his bed, writing down what he’d seen in his sleep. At least he could add it later on before it vanished from his head again. Johnny tried to go back to sleep grumbling to himself about his mind not letting him ignore what he’d witnessed. He maybe got an extra hour or two of just relaxing and resting before his alarm went off.

The amnesiac got out of bed, and did the usual morning routine. A small work out today, he didn’t feel up to a full one. Breakfast was simple enough, and he could pick something up on the way to his regular job. Shower, dressed, checking his pack to make sure he had everything, lunch made up. An hour to spare, with enough time to grab a bite to eat.

Johnny went to work and headed to the tire shop immediately. Fall was when everyone got their tires changed over and he could work quickly. Mix that with night stocker and he was able to cover decent enough ground. Plenty of friendlies around him, people teaching him how the warehouse worked, and people for him to teach. It also meant a lot of energy lost by the end of the night. Yet somehow sleep wanted to leave early almost every night.

He came in to find a kid cross training in the shop, still learning by getting the vehicles lifted and nuts and bolts off the tires. The noise the power socket made when it was grinding against the nuts was evident of their lacking experience. It was loud and almost sounded like gun fire. It went on for a while, of them tightening the bolts more than they maybe should. The sound was not new but it did give him a bit of anxiousness.

“Aye!” He shouted to the kid. They stopped and looked back at him. “The bolt is on, move on to the next one and get it torqued.”

“Yes sir.” You responded. The loud bang of tires breaking pulled Johnny back to where he was supposed to be. A few needed to be balanced, so he got to work on that, removing the weights, and getting new ones on.

You could curse up a storm, clearly frustrated with the screws and the weight of the tires. You were crouching so yeah that can be sore on the ankles with extra weight after a while. The concrete floors were pleasant on the knees either. Johnny noticed you looking around and fiddling with the socket, which was stuck to the nut of the wheel. Johnny finished up and called for you reading your name tag.

“I can’t get it out, I don’t know what I did wrong.” You said distressed. Johnny could deal with it.

“Get these on to the one in bay two. I’ll fix this.” Johnny said, offering a newly balanced tire. You got right on it, quickly. At least you had that down. Unfortunately you seemed to be making plenty of mistakes. Not your fault, some were out of your control. The bolts were sticky on some, others were hard to find the lift points. You kept apologizing, with some of the other employees as well.

Johnny had you as a night stocker in his department. Worked hard and quick but fell behind sometimes. Sometimes Johnny had to remind you to pick up the pace. You just needed a few pointers, and reminders to stay focused.

The day was tiring. Eventually it ended though. As Johnny gave his farewell to the older manager lady, he stepped out to let the cold air fill his lungs. He leaned against the wall, taking a moment to relax before the drive back home.

You were sitting at the picnic table just outside the exit door. You were shivering a little, and checking your phone. A little young for you to be out here alone. Late to be out here alone. Johnny had finished later giving him some over time, but you finished sooner than him. Chilly out too.

“Oi kid?” Johnny said. You looked up, arms folded, shivering and hunched over. “You getting picked up?”

“My uh… my uncle was supposed to pick me up, but… guess he forgot. Just waiting for someone to come.”

“Don’t ya live near me?” Johnny asked. You gave him your address, and yep, it was maybe a five minute drive from away from his place. “Want a ride?”

“You sure?”

Johnny jerked his head. “Not that far out of my way.”

You got off the table and followed the older man, the backpack slung over your shoulder. Johnny didn’t mind driving a little further down the road.

“Sorry for causing any trouble today.” You said.

“Stuff happens. Don’t worry too much.” Johnny assured her. You started chatting with him, learning more about him, and he learned more about you. Little artist who had your sketchbook out every day before starting your shift, played video games, and liked animals.

Once they reached your home, Johnny let you get out but waited as you went up to the door. The uncle was supposed to leave the spare key out or the door unlocked. Johnny already didn’t trust this. He watched as you fumbled around the door trying to get in. Johnny got out of his car and beckoned you back in. No way in hell he would let you stay on the porch.

He got you in his car and drove to his place.

You kept saying sorry. Johnny told you again, it was fine. Besides he didn’t mind the company, living alone. If anything he was concerned you might be the one uncomfortable. A blanket was found and a pillow, and you curled up on the couch. You fell asleep before Johnny could say good night. It was a lot of work, he doesn’t blame you.

The next morning though you were gone. A note was left saying you’d gone back home, and thanking him for letting you stay the night. Johnny shrugged it off, got breakfast made and some small work done before heading off to work himself. He expected you to be at work at least and you showed up early once again. Almost an hour early. He didn’t know if your perception of time was off but then he saw you in your sketchbook. The doodles were pretty cute, and he realized it was the kittens he was fostering. Once his stuff was ready he sat down next to you and asked about your work. Another apology for sleeping and dipping, and then he got his answers.

A couple of weeks passed by, and you had come around to Johnny’s place a few times to stay the night. Johnny didn’t mind putting you up, but he told you to get a spare key so you could get back in your house. A few times you did get picked up, and Johnny tried to talk to your uncle. Each time he missed out, or the Uncle told him he didn’t have time to talk. Johnny would let it go, shaking his head.

In the tire shop, the noise was high. When tightening the bolts, on the wheels, once tight the loud clicking from the socket unable to move can be loud, and grinding. Johnny found himself looking up every time it rang out. The night before, his sleep had been riddled with shouts and gunfire. The kid was doing it, to make sure the wheel was on properly, to reduce the work of torquing. A few others were as well, but it kept pulling Johnny’s attention, making him stare off. It was making his heart thump harder in his chest, and the air to thin around him. The manager had to snap him out of it a few times, offering to take over whatever he was working on.

You took notice of him a few times but assumed he just got distracted. It started to be a pattern though, and with the busy schedule and getting backed up, there wasn’t much time to stand around. You finished bagging the tire you were on, loading it in the back of a car. Johnny was right by the pile of junk tires, bracing himself against one of them. Without a word, you touched Johnny’s arm bringing him to reality again. Johnny tried to go back to work, but no. You were insistent on him stepping out of the shop to get some water.

“I haven’t been keeping you up have I?” You asked.

“No no… m’fine. Ah’m just…” Johnny didn’t know what to say, so he shrugged. You told him to wait outside in the quieter part of the shop, and went back in to get Johnny one of the mini chocolates someone bought for the tire shop team.

“Take a minute. Have some water. Have your chocolate. Come back in when you’re ready.” You said. Johnny nodded, appreciating the your concern for him. Yeah, he needed a break. If it was to get away from being overwhelmed then that was fine. You disappeared back into the shop while Johnny sighed, leaning against a stack of tires. Yeah that chocolate felt good along with the cold water washing it down.

The dream felt too real last night. It was a fast blur but a few things had stood out to him, having seen them before previous nights. The thing that should’ve haunted him was seeing death. He swore that’s what it was, the grim reaper. There were times he swore he saw it outside of his house too but passed it off as just nerves. It should haunt him… so why didn’t it?

“Aye. Try to stay awake.” Johnny said, nudging you in the passenger seat. You yawned and stretched in your seat as much as you could. Both of you were exhausted. Johnny had been getting plenty of commissions for consulting, along with regular work. You had been working overtime quite a bit lately. Thank god the weekend was tomorrow. Johnny had offered to let you stay the night, seeing you drag yourself through the last couple of work days. You could sleep in hopefully, instead of taking off before the sun could.

“M’tryin…” You said sleepily, rubbing your eyes.

“Ya did good today.” He said, hoping conversation would help keep you awake.

“Thanks for letting me stay tonight.” You said.

“I’m not driving all the way to your place tonight, and I cannae let you go walking by yourself.” Johnny exclaimed.

Once you got to Johnny’s place, he let the you in, and then turned around. The road wasn’t very well-lit but he scanned the trees and houses anyways. It was a more rural area, less people and houses, so someone standing and watching like Michael Myers catches peoples’ attention. Yet the only thing stirring was the trees from the wind. Johnny was alert, trying to discern shapes and rule them out as anomalies.

“Johnny?” You asked from behind. Johnny didn’t say anything, instead stepped inside, still watching before shutting the door. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Ah’m.” Johnny assured you, but he wasn’t so sure himself. You didn’t press. Only asked where the spare blanket was. Johnny wasn’t going to let you sleep on the couch tonight, and instead led you to the small guest room he had. You seemed to appreciate that, thanking him and offering a hug. Johnny gladly accepted the offer.

Once Johnny left you to wash up and tuck yourself in, he went to the kitchen. Then he started to draw the curtains, not wanting anyone to see inside his home. After that he went to the basement and inside a small closet in a makeshift office space. It was under lock and key, one that Johnny kept on him at all times. Unlocking it he took inventory of the small weapons stash he had, seeing if anything had been taken out without him noticing. Everything was accounted for. He shut the doors and locked it back up.

Johnny wasn’t a stranger to pattern recognition. After having a few dreams of death he knew it meant something. He wasn’t willing to talk to his therapist about it. But by now, he’d started to piece some things together about his past. In a side room next to the closet, was a chair. A chair sitting in the middle of the room, surrounded by thoughts, ideas, notes, scribbles and even news clippings that Johnny had collected over the past couple months or so. It was a lot, with not a single spot of the painted dry wall peeking through. Johnny couldn’t even remember the colour of the walls. He tried to add something each night, especially after having dreams of him being in high adrenaline situations, with gunfire and shouting and death. Yes, couldn’t forget about death.

Not tonight. Take a break tonight. Johnny was worn out and fixating would just make him feel even more tired the next day. He would be fine tomorrow, a long sleep, a good breakfast, and chilling with you. That he could live with.

Outside, he watched his old friend stare out from his front porch looking. Did Johnny know who he was looking for? Maybe. Unlikely. Just to be safe, he moved into cover, as you called Johnny into the house. He’d seen you leave from Johnny’s house more than once, and hurry home. After a while he was going to pack it in, assuming Johnny had gone to bed by now. Then Johnny did something he hadn’t expected. Johnny drew the curtains closed. There were no signs of Johnny after that, but the curtains were a sign themselves.

Johnny’s gut hadn’t changed. The drawn curtains were to keep prying eyes from looking in. What prying eyes could Johnny be avoiding? Or was it him that Johnny was concerned about?

He waited a couple hours before finally walking away, keeping himself inconspicuous as he headed to his vehicle. If Johnny was remembering it could be a good thing. The question was whether Johnny would be willing to come back after everything he’d made for himself.

After a few seconds of mulling it over Simon drove back to the safe house.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @0wosugarmommymedic0wo @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving @cutiecusp @shikigami-the-paper-spirit @lolyouranelf

[badninken]

Ok but. Mustache Law in the manga. is killing it

Even though he looks like a drag king on a budget. Like, girl, that cute little beard is drawn on with eyeliner pencil. (I know the beard is the real deal but the mustache incriminates it somehow) Don't know how a mustache manages to make this guy look less masculine but I'm into whatever gender presentation this is:

Overall a big fan of shady gangster mastermind Trafalgar Law being quietly satisfied that his grand plan seems to be coming together. Robin going: "You have a wicked look on your face" and Law turning his back, nonchalant and cool as fuck. Except he's hiding a tiny eyebrow twitch and this sly little smile behind his mustache like a sneaky villain twiddling his fingers. How would he be able to control the navy? Hohohoh >:)

That's another topic.

[vaguely-concerned]

I must admit it exhausts me a bit when people compare the interactions between the companions in da2 and veilguard and complain that the veilguard crew don't argue viciously enough or don't have enough fundamental unbridgeable ideological differences. like yeah it's almost like dragon age 2 is a game specifically about implacable human discord in all its forms and that's the theme the companions also build up under and provide a lens to look at. and perhaps. just maybe. veilguard is doing something different and also interesting thematically if you look at it for what it actually is, and its companions are playing into those themes instead (come become beside me my friend none of us have this figured out but at least we have each other along the way. you must struggle with who you are. despite the high high stakes on paper, veilguard (sometimes to its detriment, often to its advantage once you realize this is what it's doing) is really not that interested in outward conflict, between ideas or groups or individuals -- most of the real meat and potatoes is in the internal struggle of the characters with themselves and their identities, the ways they've been changed and also stay the same, it's weirdly deeply trans all the way to the depths of the narrative that way, as well as fundamentally being about trauma recovery. again, what you're ultimately fighting is not actually in the realm of elgar'nan and ghilan'nain at all, it's on the level of solas' despair and his regret over what he's done and who he's become).

tl;dr why are we pitting two bad bitches against each other etc. they're literally both pretty and I love them

[greyedian]

oh my god I was thinking about a jayvik fallout new vegas AU and was like "hm maybe Viktor uploads himself into one of those robots until he can get a different body by like repurposing power armor or something idk" and then I remembered that this guy's name actually is Victor

[itneverendshere]

BLESS HALLOWEEN - r.c (+18)

pairing: frat!rafe/ghostface!rafe x reader (uni au) warnings: no plot; smut

inspired by this audio (+18)

between midterms, a terrible class project partner, and your roommate constant need to fuck her boyfriend at any given hour of the day, you’re half asleep most days.

the only thing you should be doing is sleeping, anywhere, for hours, but instead, you let yourself get dragged to a halloween party. 

sure, you’re running on three hours of sleep and five cups of coffee, but heaven forbid you to miss a party because your roommate just had to be there. never mind that she’s been wearing her "not-so-pg sexy witch" costume since last tuesday, casting spells for her crush to notice her (like he doesn’t see half her skin every night anyway).

you look hotter than you'd like to admit. black mini dress? check. sky-high boots? check. a little lace mask that hides just enough to keep the mystery going? obviously.

you're not trying too hard, but you’re giving just enough to turn heads, with a vibe that says, “i might ruin your life, but you'll thank me for it."

you’re rocking some version of a "slutty masquerade," not that anyone could guess what that means, but it gets you a free drink within five minutes. and the best part? nobody knows it’s you.

the only downside is that you’re in his territory.

it could be anywhere, but it’s happening at his frat.

your project partner, personal headache and resident menace, rafe cameron holds court here like he’s king of the idiots.

he’s hot, you’ll give him that, guy’s all charm until it’s time to work; then he’s as useless as that cheap foundation your roommate keeps borrowing.

and now you’re here, half hoping to avoid his face entirely—his smirk that screams "’m getting credit off your hard work" and that irking attitude that makes him think he’s doing you a favor.

as if seeing him once a week in class isn’t enough of a problem. you pull your mask down a bit lower, not that he’d recognize you through the lace, but just in case.

against all odds, you’re having a good time. the drinks are good—something sugary—and you find yourself laughing, loosening up.

mid-laugh, you walk straight into someone, practically face-plant into a solid chest. you stagger back, the guy's hand catching your elbow to hold you, and you look up, only to be met with a ghostface mask.

“ohh, sorry,” he says with an amused chuckle like he's getting a kick out of startling you. "sorry, sorry—i  didn’t mean to scare you," he adds, not sounding remotely apologetic.

you raise a brow, your lips curving just slightly. “hmm, you sure? cause it kinda looks like you enjoy it."

he puts a hand up in mock innocence. “nah, i swear, completely unintentional,” 

you blink up at him, squinting against the red lighting to catch a better look at his mask. it’s honestly a little creepy up close, that ghostface grin somehow twisting a bit more under the lights and crowd. but you’re in the mood to get laid tonight.

"nice costume,” you don’t bother to hide the way your eyes stuck to every corner of his body, “scary.”

he doesn’t catch it though, leaning down, head tilting, “what?” he asks, chuckling a bit as he stands closer. “yeah, sorry—the music’s way too loud.”

rolling your eyes with a little attitude, you repeat yourself, a bit louder. “i said, your costume’s scary.”

he nods, shaking his head like he’s relieved, and rubs the back of his neck, as if this mask isn’t hiding the flush you think you see creeping up his neck. “oh, thanks. yeah, uh, you look…” his voice trails off a little, and he clears his throat, swallowing. “you look pretty, uh, scary too.”

you raise a brow, "you think so?"

he nods again, “yeah, ’m terrified of hot women, so…”

the music cuts him off this time around, his words getting lost in the heavy bass, it’s harder to know what he’s saying when you can’t read his lips. you frown, stepping closer into his space. “hmm?”

the guy practically jolts, “nothing, nothing—it’s, uh…” he stammers, then gestures at your face, his fingers brushing near your mask. “it’s a cool mask.”

you smile, amused. “thanks, ghostface. should i be, y’know, scared of you?”

 “i don’t know, that depends. should i be scared of you?”

"nop, you're cute. i like where this is going."

the guy’s mask tilts, there’s smidge of surprise in his voice. "really? so—so you’re into masks and, like, the whole psycho-killer thing?”

you shrug nonchalantly, letting your gaze drag over him slower. "only if they're hot and built like you."

there's a short pause, and you can practically feel the amused smile hidden under his mask. “oh, okay, yeah, yeah—so what is it? do you like being scared, or?”

there’s something about a guy like him—tall, broad-shouldered, who could probably break you in half without even trying. and honestly? you like that kind of shit. you’ve always wanted a guy who could cover you with his entire body, who’d tower over you in a way that was intimidating enough to make your heart pound. 

the kind that, if you begged nicely, might just be able to cut off your oxygen in bed with one hand. and here he is, looking like he could throw you around a little if you wanted him to. which you might. his hand still hovering near your waist isn’t exactly subtle either—it’s like he knows, somehow. either way, you keep your expression smooth, not giving him anything, it’s more fun that way.

you let out a giggle that’s only partly mocking. "maybe i just like danger, ghostface. or maybe i like watching people squirm."

“holy shit, that’s fucked up.”

you take a slow sip of your drink, watching his shirt cling to his chest as he takes a deep breath, every inch of that body sculpted to the fucking gods like it was made for nights like this. shit, that’s a nice body. 

you can’t help the sly smirk that pulls at your lips as you murmur, “what’s wrong with liking it rough?”

he snickers, almost breathlessly, and you know you’re getting to him. “there’s something a little wrong with you.”

yeah, there is. you almost blurt out the truth—that your panties are drenched and practically glued to your skin because of him, that he’s got you feeling hornier than you’ve felt in a long time. but you choose to let your fingers trail down his arm, slow and teasing. 

“you think so?” you faux-pout, giving him a look that’s all dark lashes and bad intentions.

he swallows, stumbling over his words. “y-yeah, i mean, there’s some things you need to… work on.”

you tilt your head, smiling in that way you know drives guys crazy, leaning in just enough to make him catch his breath. “would you like to help me?”

he stares at you, goosebumps rising along his arm where your fingers still rest, visibly caught off guard, “what does that mean?”

with a wicked grin, you reach up, wrapping your manicured hands around his neck, his breath all but halting as you pull him down until his face is level with yours. his breath hitches, and you take your time, letting your lips brush the shell of his ear, enough to make him shiver. 

“you find me upstairs,” you murmur, voice dripping with promise, “and ’m all yours. okay?”

instead of waiting for him to process it, you’re already sneaking off into the crowd, leaving him rooted. you don’t try looking back, already feeling his stare burning into you, dazed and desperate as he takes in what you just promised. you don’t second guess yourself once, you know he’s coming.

by the time he shakes himself out of his trance, you’re halfway up the stairs.

at the top, you stop, one quick peek over your shoulder to check if he’s still watching. the look on his face is priceless—like he’s not sure if he’s about to follow a dream or walk into his worst nightmare. perfect, you think.

you push open a random door and slip into an empty room, locking eyes with yourself in the mirror. hair a little wild, eyes glinting with that mischievous glint you know all too well. you adjust your mask, the lace sitting just right over your cheekbones. you pull your dress higher, letting it ride up just a little higher, admiring the way the fabric clings to you, showing off every curve.

you turn the lights off, letting the room fall into shadows. he’ll have to work for it if he wants to find you. you can imagine the way he’ll hesitate, hand hovering over the doorknob, wondering what the hell he’s getting himself into. 

why make it easy for him?

rafe watches you leave, standing there like a fucking idiot, heart hammering in his chest as he replays what just happened. the words “find me upstairs, and i’m all yours” looping in his mind like a mantra. the confidence in your voice, the way you looked at him like you already knew he’d be following—fuck, it’s enough to make him hard just thinking about it.

he swallows, trying to be calm as he looks around, but there’s no hiding the way his breathing’s quickened, how his body is buzzing at the thought of finding you, alone, in a dark room, just waiting for him.

you’re playing with him, he tells himself, but he doesn’t care. he’s going to go after you anyway.

pushing through the crowd, he’s half-dazed, talking to himself under his breath, almost wheezing out a series of what the fucks. his grip wraps around the banister as he ascends the stairs, his fingers still itching from where you’d brushed against him. he feels completely out of his element. girls flirt with him all the time, he’s with girls all the time, sure, but this—this is different. 

he always been a sucker for a good challenge and you’d practically left him in the dust, tossing back that promise without even checking if he’d follow.

at the top, he pauses, looking down the hallway, every door holding the possibility that you might be behind it, waiting. 

rafe feels that thrill coil in his stomach, his heart pounding in anticipation. he’s like a kid on halloween night, trick-or-treating at the house he’s always been too afraid to knock on. but you dared him, so there’s no way he’s backing out now.

he starts with the first door, pushing it open only to find it empty, checking the shadows, in case you’re hiding, but nothing. he goes into the next door, finding a couple already in there, and quickly shuts it again, eyes slamming shut, ignoring their annoyed stares as he backs out.

third time’s the charm, yeah? he thinks, reaching for the next door and pulling it open. the door creaks as it swings shut behind him, his footsteps are slow, hesitant, and the scuff of his shoes against the floor makes him cringe. 

it takes him a second for his eyes to adjust to the dark, pupils dilating as he walks further inside.his breathing is loud and uneven, almost like he’d run all the way here. he stops in the middle of the room, his chest rising and falling hard, his breath painfully audible. 

his heart is doing an annoying thing, pounding, and he swears he can hear it.

did he misread you? the space is eerily quiet, he can’t help but wonder if he’s been set up, if you’re somewhere downstairs, laughing at how eagerly he followed your trail up here like a fucking dumbass.

rafe scans the room’s edges, searching, and he notices a quick movement in the corner—something. he swallows he leans forward a little, squinting to make out any familiar shape.

“you wanna play hide and seek?” he calls out, hoping he’s not making a full out of himself, “is that it?” he’s taking gulps of air, feeling dizzy from being in the dark for so long, “you like this?”

a quiet giggle echoes from one of the corners, inviting, and he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. you’re playing this game too well, lurking just beyond his reach, and the longer he waits, the more desperate he feels.

he swallows, his mind spiraling as he steps walks around, slow and cautious, hands slightly trembling. he’s caught off guard by just how badly he wants you; the way you kept looking at him like he was the prey downstairs, has him all kinds of worked up. 

his cock stirring against his jeans is proof enough. 

“you want me to scare you or somethin’?” he provokes you, praying it’s enough to lure you out, “you think it’s smart? letting a stranger chase you into a room, with no one else around. you’re all alone with me.”

“who says you’re that dangerous?”

the second the words leave your mouth, rafe’s resolve slips. 

it’s maddening, the way you’re hiding from him, how your voice seems to come to him from every dark corner of the room. he shouldn’t have drowned two shots before following you, but the liquid courage had been tempting. 

you’re keeping him on a tight leash, making him wonder if he’s got a shot or if you’re just messing with his head. he wants to see you again, your expression—wants to read you, even if the last time he tried, he ended up with his mind in knots.

“you don’t even know my name,” he muses, taking a couple steps closer to the closet, “does that make it more fun for you? that you don’t know anything about me?”

his movements are cautious, almost reverent as if you’re something sacred and forbidden all at once. he stops, opening the doors, leaning inside as he half-whispers, “not here, huh?” no answer, just silence, but he swears he can feel you watching him, your gaze prickling his skin, almost burning, “where are you? c’mon come out, i’ll go easy on you.”

he sighs, sounding like more of a frustrated exhale. no sign of you anywhere. he shakes his head, letting out a soft laugh, more amused than annoyed. 

“be a good girl and come out.”

rafe stalks around the room with the focus of someone hunting prey, his footsteps deliberate, his hands gliding along the walls and over furniture. he reaches the small bathroom door adjacent to the room, his fingers tightening around the handle. his lips pull into a smirk as he pauses—listening. 

the room’s quiet, but then, he hears it: the faint, uneven rhythm of your breathing, a quickened inhale, almost as if his words had finally affected you. he stops dead, dropping his hand from the door and turning around with a dark gleam in his eyes. 

“wait—wait,” his voice lowers with satisfaction, with the thrill of the chase. he lets out a breathy chuckle, his eyes roving the room as he zeroes in on where you’re hiding. “i can hear you, can hear you breathing.” 

he takes a slow, taunting step, his head tilting, as though he’s relishing the way you’re fighting to stay silent, to keep control. 

“what’s the matter? you sound a little…” he trails off in a murmur, enjoying the tables turning. “...shaken up. are you scared?”

your breath slips, just enough to betray you and his lips quirk up.

“i know exactly where you are.” with lazy confidence, he walks over to the far corner where the heavy velvet curtains seem to pool against the floor, drawn closed over the tall, narrow window. 

his fingers brush the fabric, his eyes narrowing as if he can feel the warmth of you just on the other side. then, in one smooth motion, he grabs the curtain and yanks it open. 

“caught you.”

moonlight spills in, illuminating you both. in a second, you’re pressed against the wall, lips parted, cheeks flushed, and his eyes rake over you, lingering on the way your costume accentuates every curve of your body. 

he steps in close, his silhouette blocking the light as he cages you in, one hand pressing against the wall beside your head, the other landing on your waist. his gaze drops to your lips, taking time to roam the way you’re biting your lip.

you tilt your chin up, “maybe i just like trouble.” 

rafe’s grip on your waist tightens in response, a hunger that he can’t hide, while he’s memorizing the way you’re looking up at him, ready to push him just as far as he can take it.

“you’re in trouble, alrigh’,” he shakes his head, while his hand inches down, slipping lower along your body until his thumb brushes against the curve of your hip, “don’t think you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

your fingers slide up his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath the thin fabric of his black shirt, the way his heart hammers from your touch alone.

“maybe that’s what i want,” you whisper, tipping your head up so your lips brush against his mask.

he shudders, and you let your fingers trail slowly down, tracing over the line of his collarbone. rafe swallows hard, his body thrumming with tension. his eyes dropping to your mouth once again, wishing he’d been smart enough to take the mask off, so he could kiss you. 

“you don’t know what you’re asking for,” he breathes, but the glint in his eyes says otherwise. he’s already melting under your touch, the desperation in the way he holds onto you confessing just how badly he needs it.

“you want me?” you ask, watching his pupils dilate as you lean in even closer, close enough that he can smell the fruity trace of your drink on your breath trough the mask, the lingering sweetness making him light-headed.

 jesus fucking christ where have you been all his life?

“yeah,” he mutters, voice strained, eyes half-lidded as he stares down at you, “i want you.” his hand trails up your side, down the line of your dress, stopping just at the hem. he hesitates, holding himself back for your sake, the look in his eyes begging for permission, daring you to say something, to let him go further.

you smirk, letting your fingers slip lower, grazing over the top of his waistband, “’m already so wet for you.”

a rough, almost growling sound escapes his throat as his fingers taunt around you, his control slipping at the admission. “yeah?” he grunts, letting his hand glide under the hem of your dress, his fingers inching higher, grazing along the sensitive skin of your thigh, “lets find out.”

the first brush of his fingers against your thong sends a shiver from your head to your toes, his smirk growing. he’s bold now, unapologetic as he moves them up, grazing the thin barrier of fabric between his hand and you.

your panties are ruined, drenched, and stuck to you most uncomfortably, he can tell from the way you keep pushing your hips forward, begging him to do something. 

he doesn’t think twice before using two fingers to pull the sticky fabric to the side.

“fuck,” he mutters to himself, “all this for me?”

you have to bite your lip to stop a moan from slipping out when he finally touches you properly. two of his long, thick fingers press against your entrance, sliding into you with no resistance. the feeling of your cunt clamping around him makes his cock twitch. 

he works you open, even the slightest touches have you arching your back from the wall. the need in his eyes turns ravenous with every desperate little gasp you let out. he moves slowly, deliberately, feeling the warmth of you clenching around his him, as he curls his fingers just right, 

“you’re so wet, ah, yeah—you’re gonna scream for me?”

his thumb finds your clit with ease, and he presses down, drawing gentle circles that make your knees buckle. he grins, drinking in every sound you’re trying to bite back. his thumb stays steady over your clit, circling with the perfect rhythm, applying just enough pressure to keep you breathless.

“c’me here,” his other hand moves with swift, easy dominance, capturing your wrists and pinning them above your head, holding you firmly against the wall,” you like this shit?” 

“you’re gonna fuck me with the mask on?” you grind yourself harder against him, practically delusional from the way he’s making you feel, “kinky.”

he's mesmerized by the way your breasts jolt underneath your dress with each shaky breath you take, your skin feels feverish, heat radiating off it like a furnace.

“just like you wanted,” he promises, his voice filled with satisfaction as his thumb presses down harder, coaxing a soft whimper from your lips. “go on, let me hear it—ride my hand.”

he tightens his hold on your wrists, keeping you perfectly in place, not prying his eyes away from how your brows frow with every grind. 

“fuckkkkk, do that again,” you whine when he hits a particular spot, your walls tightening around him in a way that makes him want to stop the foreplay and fuck you right away.

rafe leans forward to coo praise into your ear, “like this?” your skin is sticky with sweat—some saliva too—his. he’s never been this fucking hard in his life. he slows down on purpose, to torture you, doing anything in his power to make you beg, “ooh look at you— a fuckin mess.” he taunts.

“don’t be an asshole,” you groan, fingers itching to be set free, and grab his shoulders so you can slam down on him harder, “you gotta make me cum if you wanna fuck me.”

he runs deep circles into your clit making you press your legs together, knowing that he's getting exactly what he wants makes him chuckle into your skin. by this point as he mindlessly humps against your writhing body, he’s peeking down, taking a moment to admire the mess of slickness between your thighs.

“you want more?” you’re so caught up in the feeling that you don’t notice his hand leaving yours, wrapping it around your neck, pulling you closer to him, “answer me”

“another finger,” you spit out when he tightens his grip on your neck, the added touch having you on the brink.

rafe doesn’t even look at you, too entranced by your mess to make eye contact. he never got so lost during sex, but your pussy’s making him intoxicated to the point where his senses are dull, and the part of him that’s fully aware is his dick. 

he’s not even inside you yet, and still, he can cum just from seeing you ride his fingers. “another?”

he groans at the way one of your hands move to flex over his, watching in amusement as you try to get him to add one more finger. he mutters a low, gruff “good girl” as he slides a third finger in, pressing just deep enough to make your legs tremble, since you asked so nicely.

“think you can handle more?” rafe prods, “you’re so tight, don’t think you can take me.”

the way his fingers work, methodical and relentless, leaves you barely able to breathe, let alone answer.

“i could take t-two of you,” you tease, letting a breath out, and turning your head to face him. god you wondered if he looked good under that mask, but if he was this good in bed, who fucking cared.

“the only thing you’re taking is this fucking costume off,” he grumbles against your shiny lips, fanning like a wild animal catching the scent of its prey. he’s already tugging at the material, pulling the straps to the side before you can, nudging it aside, “look at you. gotta get my hands on you.”

rafe moves his attention to your breast and squeezes firmly, the tips of his fingers clasping down on your nipple, pressing and pulling as he chases after those sweet sounds that leave your lips.

“look at these tits, fuck” he rasps, eyes trailing over your chest and savoring every inch, his breath almost a snarl, “this’ what you wanted?”

you pressed your lips to his neck, ignoring the deep rumble in his chest as you sucked marks into his flesh, nipping him less than gently. grunting at a particularly rough bite you landed just under his adam’s apple, “i wanted your cock not your finger—"

his pitches your nipple harder making you squirm, “watch your fuckin’ mouth.”

the way you’re creaming his hand should be illegal, but this man is clearly sent from above. someone finally listened to you and gave you exactly what you needed to survive your dry spell. 

you reach down to cup him up through his jeans, “or what?”

he moans, head dropping to your shoulder, “fuck,” he mutters, his tone conveying that he’s just as distracted, watching how your puffy folds glisten with your arousal.

“hmmm, can’t hear you ghostface.”

rafe’s too entranced to put you in your place, you’ve got him eating out the palm of your hand. the sounds of your pussy sucking in his fingers are obscene, the simple act of your hand grazing cock has his knees buckling.

he can feel his heart beating miles a minute and he swears he could die right there, his hand coming down to grip the swell of your ass, kneading it firmly. you sigh contently with every slow drag of his hand, your head falling on his shoulder, nipping at his neck no doubt marking him up again.

“open your mouth.” you lift your head immediately, no smartass bullshit coming out of your lips, he chuckles breathlessly at your impatience, fingers moving from your ass to your parted hole, “suck my fingers, go on.”

it’s hard to make any coherent thought when his fingers are still inside you, dragging against your spongy walls deliciously, but your tongue automatically slips around his digits, doing your best to suck them down your throat. you’d never felt so willing to let a man bend you however he wants to, hushed curses escaping your occupied mouth, raking your nails down his arm. 

“good girl, yeahhhh, that’s it,” he grunts when you prod his skin harder, “you like diggin’ your nails into me, like it rough, huh? ‘course you do,” he stammers out when you clamp harder around him, your slick making everything slippery, “course you fucking do.”

with his fingers buried deep inside you and your lips wrapped around his other hand, rafe’s fully intoxicated, drunker than he can ever get. the sounds you make, he never wanted to taste something so bad, if it wasn’t for his stupid mask—

“take this thing off—" he grinds his hips into you, the rough fabric of his jeans pressing deliciously against your bare skin, teasing you, while his hand leaves your mouth to do nothing else but rip your panties apart.

you let out a huff, glancing down at what’s left of your underwear as he tosses it aside like nothing, already sliding his back up your thigh, “you’re paying for those.”

“whatever you want.”

you’re already occupied with his stupid belt, fingers quickly working to take the damn thing off, pawing at him to help. it’s only then he leaves your pussy unattended, settling his hold on your hips while you fumble with his jeans, unbuttoning them and snapping them open, his bulge straining against the fabric of his boxers. 

he grabs the underside of your thigh, picking your leg up and wrapping it around his waist, backing you two further into the wall, eyes gazing into yours, even though you can’t see him. why the fuck do your eyes look so familiar?

the tip of his dick kisses the skin of your pussy, the firm head bumping against your clit as he rubs himself against you, “happy?”

looking down, you watch his cock slide back and forth between your thighs, the friction making heat slowly rise in your core, warmth swarming in your chest. he’s so fucking big. you watch him, eyes half-lidded, your legs aching from the position, almost drooling from the sight alone. 

you don’t know how much longer you can let him tease you.

“so happy,” you nod, not tearing your attention from him.

“yeah?” he cocks his head to the side, brows furrowed, concentrating not to cum on the spot with the way you’re eating his cock alive just with your pretty little eyes, “you’re gonna let a stranger fuck you?”

rafe reaches down, teasingly rubbing the tip of his dick over your folds, tracing it over your clit a few times. you look up, lips curling into the most earth-shattering smirk.“i can always find someone el—"

you both groan when he slides into you with no warning, your warm walls enveloping him perfectly, sucking him in like a vice, a perfect tight fit. he pumps you so full, not waiting for any adjustment, your walls fluttering around his girth, thick tip slightly curved up from your position.

“fuck, fuck, fuckkk,” he drawls out, rolling his hips in tight circles, slowly fucking into you, dragging himself along your walls to learn what you like, “this pussy, oh—so good.”

your head falls back against the wall, sighing in pleasure. you want him to let go and beat your walls loose, especially when he looks so good doing it. you melt into him, body sagging, downright losing it with how easily he holds you up and still pounds relentlessly into you, your breathing picking up with his change of pace. 

he’s so strong.

“this good enough for ya?” he murmurs against your ear, picking on the way your body shudders, a scream for anyone outside that door to hear, “hmm? you like my voice, right here?”

“you’re gonna make me cum,” you feel yourself grip him harder, his thick cock stretching you open, dragging out moan after moan from your lips, “oh my god.”

it’s the sweetest torture, the way his pelvis smacks against your tummy with every thrust, barely even pulling out to roll back into you.

“such a fuckin’ slut, aren’t you?” he growls, “letting a stranger fuck you open—holy shit, holy shit,” he hisses, almost as if he’s in pain, when you teasingly whine your hips back into him, fluttering at the low sound he breaths right by your ear.  “shit, you’re squeezing—fuck.”

“you’re so b-big,” you wheeze at a rough thrust, hand coming down to press against his lower stomach.

“yeah? good enough for you, huh?” his hips increase in rhythm, rocking into you, his thrusts precise, beating against your g-spot with vigor, “takin’ it so good baby.”

by now you’re seeing stars in your vision from the white-hot pleasure shooting up your spine, smart mouth forgotten, “harder.”

“harder?” he’s fucking into you at such a pace you feel like he’s gonna split you in half, “don’t think you can take it.”

“please.”

it sounds too pretty coming out of your mouth. having a girl like you beg feeds his ego like nothing else. 

he buries himself so deep, his pelvis is pressed hard against the hilt of your mound, fingers coming down to pinch and roll your neglected clit between his fingers.

“fucking take it then.” rafe snaps his hips with every word, glaring into your teary eyes. 

you gasp, nodding your head frantically, too fucked out to even use your words properly when he bottoms out properly, leaving you entirely only to slam inside harder than before. you squeal, not expecting him to use his entire body strength to almost fold in half while you’re still standing.

“no one can h-hear you down here, go ahead,” your mouth runs dry as you feel his body helplessly pressing into yours, “lemme hear those pretty noises, c’mon, scream f’me.”

you’ve never moaned so loud in your life, hands coming up to tweak your nipples, him filling you to the brim, “w-where the fuck have you b-been?”

he chuckles, though it comes out strained, “right here,” he makes a point by ramming into your g-spot perfectly, “hold your leg up f’me.”

for once in your life, you do as you’re told while focusing on his clothed stomach, feeling it constrict with every deep breath he takes. 

“you look so pretty like this,” you hear him praise you, one of his hands sliding down the span of your back, coming down to wrap around your hair and forcing your head up, “could fuck you for hours.”

the tip of his dick is kissing right against your cérvix, “not stopping you.”

“yeah? that’s how good is it?” he laughs, “can’t believe stranger cock does it for you.”

you open your mouth to speak, probably to give him shit about how he wouldn’t stop teasing you, but your words run dry as you feel the familiar sensation of his fingers playing with your overstimulated clit. motherfucker.

your body tenses as he builds up the pressure, and a strangled symphony of your wails leaves your sore throat. it’s too much and not enough at the same time, the pressure of his cock as well as his fingers, he’s quite literally fucking you dumb. 

“nothin’ to say now, huh?”

the better it feels, the farther gone you’re in your mind, “s-shut the fuck up.”

if you were with someone else, it would bother you that your tits are quite literally out while he’s still dressed, besides the jeans pooling by his ankles, but that stupid black wife beater looks mouthwatering on him. 

somehow the outfit and the mask add to the allure, not knowing who’s behind it, but still letting him treat you like a rag doll. you’re bouncing down onto him, almost sniffling as your pussy’s still twitching and soaking, so close to your well-deserved orgasm.

“cum inside,” your head’s starting to sting from how bad you need to cum,“please.”

rafe swears he almost falls on his ass, “what?”

“inside,” you grit out, eyes closed in bliss, “want to feel you cum inside.”

he lets out a groan at the way you say it, “are you serious? oh fuck, what a little cock-slut.” he can’t help but let out a chuckle at your fucked-out state, lost in the chase of your own pleasure to care about how pitiful you look right now, “you’re gonna cum around me? go on,” he coos, kneading at the flesh of your thighs.

you nod, slipping out a high-pitched ‘mhm’, knowing this shit is about to hit you like a train. you arch yourself into him, whimpering lewdly and cutting small moon crescents into his shoulders with your long nails.

rafe feels like he’s lost all ability to fuck anyone else but you, growling at the filthy thoughts swimming through his mind, the urge to fill you up with his cum getting stronger as he enjoys watching you. 

a strained whimper escapes you as you lean forward to bury your head in his shoulder, groaning against the skin, “don’t stop.”

“n-never stopping, c’mon,” you swear you see stars while he’s slipping out curses and praises that you’re not even sure make sense. “holy shit, yeahh, fuck.”

he applies a little more pressure to your clit and that’s all it takes for you to be gone, your chest touching his, blinding flashes of paradise filling your vision as you leave reality, having it ripped away from you. 

your mouth is parted in the most beautiful oh shape he’s ever witnessed. tears are streaking down your eyes and he can’t help but be turned on by them.

“oh! fuck, fucking—” you squeeze your eyes shut, having no idea how you pulled the words out between continuous sobs that escape from you.

rafe feels like a fucking creep, he can’t take his eyes off you for the life of him, hips snapping animalistically into your pussy while he grunts, groans, and cries as he talks you through it, “that’sss itt, so good, so fuckin’ perfect.”

he tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. 

he’s chasing his orgasm while he watches yours; he all but whines when he releases inside of you, not slowing down in the slightest as he makes sure you take every drop. his hand comes down on your stomach forcing you back down with his python grip, feeling his bulge right there makes his eyes roll as his hand tightens on your waist. you’re still clenching and spasming as you milk him dry, “fuckin’ take it.”

his hips don’t let up, grinding into your core despite him already finishing inside of you. for another ten minutes.

five minutes later, you’re both a little hazy from the endorphin rush, still processing. once he pulls away, rafe feels a lazy grin stretching across his face, feeling more satisfied than ever. unlike the past hour, the room isn’t filled with your moans, but complete silence as you both try to breathe like normal people again, collecting yourselves, adjusting clothes, and then there’s an unspoken agreement that maybe, it’s time to see who’s behind the masks.

you fumble with the edges of the fabric, hesitating for a moment before finally pulling them off, unveiling each other’s faces.

you freeze, staring at him in disbelief.

“you gotta be fucking kiddin’ me,” you nearly burn a hole through his head, eyes narrowing with pure annoyance as you process this disaster, voice dripping with irritation, “what the fuck? rafe?”

he’s completely still, staring at you with his mouth wide open, eyes wide like he’s just seen a ghost—everything you’re hurling at him is going in and out his ears. the realization that he just spent the last hour fucking you is making him dumber. the girl he’d been thinking about, dreaming about, wanting more than he’d ever admit, even to himself.

the anger in your eyes, the annoyed way you’re crossing your arms and glaring at him—it’s so perfectly you. he’s watched you in class a hundred times, always stealing glances when you weren’t looking or cursing his ass off, catching little glimpses of her attitude that only made him want you more. 

but he’d never thought he’d get a moment like this. 

bless halloween.

“are you even listening to me?” you snap, catching his starstruck expression, waving a hand in front of his face. “hello? earth to cameron? stop looking at me like a puppy, this was a mistake.”

more than a mistake. you can’t believe you just fucked the reason why you didn’t want to come to the party in the very first place. 

and the worst part is that you’d do it again.

“i…i just…wow,” he breathes, “it’s really you.” he lets out an incredulous laugh, rubbing a hand over his jaw “can’t believe it.”

you groan, rolling your eyes and shaking your head in exasperation. “are you serious right now?

“can i eat you out?”

you blink, realizing you’ve been staring, “what?”

he takes a step closer, filling the small space between you. you swear the sound of his next words drag a whimper from your throat, “can i eat you out?”

you nearly choke to death as his hand ghost near your waist, the barest brush of contact, sending sparks dancing across your skin, “right now?”

rafe leans down to your size, eager to get on his knees and taste you.

“why not?”

well, fucking damnit.

dont go fucking strangers with ghostface masks at random parties

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sanemi lashing out on his pregnant wife only to beg her for forgiveness later

Pairing: Sanemi x pregnant!reader

Word Count: 3,1k

Synopsis: Like every week, you find yourself on your way back from Shinobu's estate and your pregnancy check-up. Little did you know what horror awaits you at your own home with your husband almost killing two kids...

Warnings: Sanemi is mean in this one and I mean it, extreme hurt but also comfort in the end so don't worry, full Shinazugawa package regarding language and violence lol, not proofread because I have to leave now

Thank you sooo much for that cool request @itsmscoco and I'm sorry it took a while. I really hope you like what I came up with 🤍

You rub your minor belly. For a woman, a pregnancy should feel like a trip to heaven. After all, you are blessed with developing a child that is half you and half your husband. Oh, your beloved and surprisingly gentle husband who always makes sure that you get enough sleep, that you nutrition yourself properly. But even the wind hashira can’t do a single thing against your constant sickness and pain.

“Please try this out, (y/n). Don’t hesitate to come here again if you need something else. You really have an unfortunate pregnancy when it comes to nausea”, Shinobu comments gently while giving your belly a little massage.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am so excited about the honor of caring for a child in my own body. But honestly, I’m so glad when this pregnancy is over”, you huff while taking a deep breath in.

Please, don’t vomit all over the insect pillar who’s just trying to help. You’ve been here what feels like everyday since finding out you’re pregnant. Well, to be exact, Shinobu is the one who suggested that you might expect a child.

Because of your never-ending sickness.

“Oh, there’s nothing to get wrong at all! After all, your pregnancy is a rather difficult one. But I’m sure Shinazugawa is taking good care of you!”

“He definitely does. My husband is an angel”, you reply in an instant.

You can’t wait to go back home. Even though your sleep-drunken eyes won’t be able to stay open longer than maybe a few hours, even though you weren’t able to catch a proper glimpse at Sanemi’s part in the on-going hashira training until now, you can’t wait to go back home. Back into your estate, back into the arms of your beloved husband.

“Not quite the codename I’d use for him, but that’s just what love does, right? I will send a kakushi along with you. Otherwise, Shinazugawa might show up and threaten me”, Shinobu jokes while helping you to get up.

“Thank you for your help. Again.”

You pull the insect hashira into a deep hug. How lucky you should consider yourself for the opportunity to call Shinobu your friend, that Sanemi laid his eyes on you. Out of all the countless women around, the ones with faces like porcelain and bodies so well-formed you can’t hold a candle against every single one of them. But still, he chose you.

“Come on, (y/n). Why are you crying?”, Shinobo whispers into your ear while rubbing small circles onto your back.

“I’m just a little overwhelmed from everything I guess”, you mumble against her comforting shoulder.

Just a few months ago, you would have laughed at anyone who told you that your life would turn out like this. Of course, you’ve lost countless good friends and family members on the way and living with a suborn husband like Sanemi isn’t always easy. But somehow, the two of you always make it work.

Right?

-at the wind hashira estate-

“We are almost there. Are you feeling alright?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m just a little tired from walking, that’s all!”

Truth is, your feet hurt like hell. Shinobu reported about women who don’t even feel their baby until the second trimester. Why are your feet already swollen, your belly bloated, your guts constantly turning? And there’s still so much ahead.

“Looks like Shinazugawa-sama received a new bunch of trainees after the other corps members all landed in Kocho-sama’s hospital wing”, the kakushi next to you comments dryly.

“Was it really that bad?”

Of course you heard about the rather brutal training methods of your husband. After all, even the walls of his estate aren’t thick enough to stop every single scream from reaching your ears. But still…

“It was pretty bad. Some of the-“

Glass cracking. Screams from afar. Out of instinct, you pick up your pace until you dash towards your home, sweat now dripping from every pore. What happened? Is Sanemi alright? He wouldn’t leash out on one of his students like that. Something must have happened. A demon? No, it’s still daytime. But what is it?

“He’s back! He’s back! That cold-blooded man! Lie down and pretend that you’ve fainted!”, a blonde-haired boy screams while almost collapsing onto the floor.

“What are you talking about? What’s going on here?”, you press out.

Your lungs threaten to fail you, breath already tasting like pure iron.

Until your eyes find Genya.

Your guts twist and turn in every direction, almost force you to vomit all over the place. Genya shouldn’t be here. Out of all people, it shouldn’t be him. And who’s the boy next to him. That familiar scar, you’ve seen that boy before. Is it possible that…

“Kamado Tanjiro”, you breathe out.

Maybe that is even worse.

Your eyes dart around the area without an aim. Where’s Sanemi? Did he find them already? They need to leave before he finds out that they’re here, carry on with another hashira training.

“Please stop now!”, Tanjiro suddenly shouts while stretching out his arm in defence.

An uneasy feeling crawls up your spine, the dark claws of sickening foreshadowing. All you can do is standing death still right where you are and watch in sheer horror as your husband stomps out of your estate motion.

Is that your husband you love and adore, though? You know how untamed he can get especially when getting confronted with his painful past. It was never easy for him to see Genya join the demon slayer corps or realize that his mother could have been saved like Tanjiro’s sister.

But never in your entire life have you seen him like this. The empty shell of your husband, muscles tensed to the maximum and his empty orbs directed towards the two boys in front of him.

In this very moment, you’d trust him to actually kill them.

“What are you going to do? Are you planning to kill Genya?”, Tanjiro continues passionately.

Your glossy orbs are set on your husband. Would he really do something like that? What if you witness the father of your unborn child taking the life of two other human beings? Your heart can’t take it, knees threaten to fail you.

“Hell no, I’m not going to kill him. It would be easy enough to kill him, but since it’s against the rules and all…I’m going to ruin him beyond recovery!”

Until your blurry head finally makes a decision and allows your feet to run.

Straight towards the two boys.

Straight into the firing line.

Straight into the sight of your now maniac husband.

“You won’t do any of these things, you hear me?”, you jeer at him with your new-found courage.

“(y/n)”, Genya breathes behind you.

“How dare you to talk to innocent children like that, Sanemi?”

The man in front of you furrows his eyebrows, hands clenched into tight fists while taking a step towards you.

“Get lost. Right now”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

You swallow hard, all nerves now tingling in sheer horror. This is the first and last warning, without any doubt. The look on his stone-cold face tells you more than urgently that Sanemi isn’t playing, that he doesn’t want you here.

Maybe it’s best if you go back inside and pretend that nothing happened. He himself said that he won’t kill them, after all…

“I’m not leaving”, you bite back.

But that would mean leaving Genya alone. That would mean giving up all of your principles.

“Will you act out like this towards our child as well?”, you continue while growing bigger and bigger in front of the two boys.

He might be your husband, the love of your life. That doesn’t mean you’ll always have to do what he tells you, tough. Instinctively, you clench your hands into tight fists with your glossy eyes almost piercing through him. Enough is enough.

“If our child acts as dumb as you do, I sure as hell will!”

Oh.

Your heart drops to the floor when a nauseous wave of agony hits you with full force. Sanemi is and has always been a hot-headed man who never thought twice about the things he said. But never, not even once in your entire relationship he insulted you.

Until now.

“Is this really how you feel about me? We should support each other, you should listen to me as well as-“

“Spare me with that bullshit, (y/n)”, Sanemi spits at you.

“Get.out.of.the.way. Can’t you hear me?”

It’s like you stop living for a moment. All this time, you did your best to understand him and his grief. Everything Sanemi does comes with a logical reason behind it, even though it’s hard to see from time to time. But lashing out at you like that?

“Stop being so disrespectful to me right now. I am your wife-“

“Right now, you’re my problem”, he jeers back.

“And now get off my sight and let me finish this real quick-“

You don’t know what made you act the way you just did. Was it his cruel behaviour, the way his words cut through your heart like a thousand knives? Before your husband is even able to finish his sentence, your palm races towards his cheek with full force.

The world around you goes silent, frightful gazes glued onto you while you can’t stop your tears from falling anymore.

“Is this how you’re acting around your pregnant wife by now, how you’ll treat innocent children? If that’s the live you chose, I’m not a part of it anymore”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, the urge to get as far away from him as possible becomes unbearable. Your feet start sprinting towards the estate on your own, carry you into your now so empty-feeling bedroom.

And finally, you allow yourself to break down and cry.

Is this really the man you love, that you’d give your life for? Your shaky fingers caress your belly mindlessly.

You can’t stay here. Not when Sanemi showed you a completely different face today. Not when this place doesn’t feel like home anymore.

-a few hours later-

“Fuck!”, Sanemi cries out on top of his lungs while dashing towards Obanai over and over.

Why can’t he get your stupid words out of his mind? The way you stood there with tears in your eyes, how he was literally able to hear your heart crack when those damned words left his mouth. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, to drag you into the fuckery with his little brother and that Kamado boy.

But why did he say all those dumb things, then?

“You seem off, Shinazugawa”, Obanai comments dryly, hitting the wind hashira with full force again.

“I guess I fucked up”, Sanemi mumbles.

What if you won’t forgive him for today? Your last words haunt him since the moment you left him standing in the rain.

“I bet you can talk your way out of it-“

“Hell nah. I don’t think she wants to see me tonight.”

“Did you ask her, though?”

“Who the hell do you think you are anyway? You’re the one to talk, not able to confess your feelings to Mitsuri”, Sanemi barks at the man next to him.

“But yeah, maybe I should get going…”

Coming home never fuelled him with so much fright. What if you’re still angry at him, if you refuse to even talk to him? Or even worse, what if you’ll really leave him?

Sanemi’s guts turn in an instant, feet now picking up their pace with every step. He can’t lose you. Not you, the light of his life. Not when you are the only ray of sunshine in this rotting hell. What the hell did he do? The fact that he even raised his voice at you is unforgivable.

Finally, his fingers grab the door that leads to your shared bedroom, finally he’s able to make up for his mistakes of today-

His eyes widen in sheer horror.

You’re gone.

Right there where your head should rest, there’s absolutely nothing.

Panic starts rising up his chest, forces his heart down his throat.

Did you leave?

He yanks out of your shared room, eyes roaming around each and every corner of your estate. But you aren’t there. You aren’t here.

“My lady is at the love hashira’s estate.”

Sanemi darts up immediately, greeted by the oh so familiar voice of your personal crow.

“Is she fine, why did she-“

“With all due respect, I suggest you to control yourself before making any more insensitive comments to my lady-“

“Who the hell do you even think you are you-“

“Your earlier spoken words really troubled her and my lady certainly does not deserve that.”

Without another word, your crow disappears into the darkness of night again.

Sanemi swallows hard. Fuck, did he really hurt you that badly? He never wanted you to feel bad, never wanted to hurt you. Damn, he only wanted to show Genya and that Kamado boy their places. It shouldn’t have hit you. Out of all people, why did he have to hurt you?

“I need to tell her”, he mumbles under his breath before dashing towards the love hashira estate.

-at Mitsuri’s-

“I can’t believe Shinazugawa said something like this to you, (y/n)! You are super far away from being dumb, after all! Here, eat another pancake and stay as long as you want.”, Mitsuri babbles while handing you another plate.

Your dry eyes are barely able to stay open any longer. All the grief, explaining, fighting and crying did apparently really wear you out. Good for you Mitsuri’s estate is near by and you just know she’ll always open her arms for you.

“Thank you so much for taking me in, Kanroji. I really don’t deserve your kindness”, you sniffle.

“You have to be joking, (y/n)! It’s my duty as your friend to be there for you anytime you need me! And also, I-”

Three violent knocks on Mitsuri’s wooden door almost send you over the edge. It’s past after midnight, the time closer to the morning than evening. Who would knock on Mitsuri’s door this late at night?

“Do you think that’s a demon?”, you mutter in horror, both pairs of eyes set on the door.

“I don’t think so. Let’s see!”

Before you’re able to stop Mitsuri, she rips open the door.

And reveals no other than your husband.

“Sanemi”, you breathe out.

Tears start swelling up your eyes in an instant when a flood of memories crushes you all over again. Just a few hours ago, your husband made very clear that he doesn’t want to see you again anytime soon. How did he find out that you’re here?

“(y/n), can we…have a talk?”, he mumbles with icy voice.

“Do you want to leave me?”, you blurt out.

“What?”

Is that really how you feel, what you think of him? That he’ll turn his back on you after a fight? He did say all those nasty things to you, though.

“I think I’m going out and…cook!”, Mitsuri announces while sprinting out of the door, leaving you alone in the room with all that tension and him.

Him, the man you love more than anything else in this world. And also him, who broke your heart like he never did before.

“You have to be kidding me”, Sanemi mutters under his breath.

You turn away before you lose your composure completely.

“Why are you here, Sanemi?”

“Do you really think I’m here to dump you!? You, my pregnant wife!? You can’t be fucking serious about that!”

In the matter of seconds, you find yourself surrounded by his usual so comforting arms that now hurt like daggers against your skin.

“Please, let me go, I can’t do this ri-“

“(y/n), please.”

His suffocated voice forces your eyes to dart upwards.

Instantly, your heart drops to the floor.

Is this really your husband, crying against your shoulder while pressing your body against his?

“I’m sorry for all the shit I’ve said, I’m sorry for making you feel this way. I’d never leave you, not when I’m even lucky for calling you mine. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this, I just…I just can’t stand them…”

“Sanemi…”

“And I get that I don’t deserve you and that I’m a jerk for hurting you. I know you could’ve had every man you wanted-“

“Sanemi!”, you snap at him, holding onto his face tightly.

“But you’re the one I want”, you finally cry out.

“But your words hurt me. Is this really how you feel about me? Do you really think I’m a burden?”

“I was out of my fucking mind for saying that to you! You’re my blessing, my everything, the sunshine in this rotting hell. You’re…You’re my wife, right?”

That innocent look on his now tear-soaked face runs shivers down your spine, reminds you that even though he acted out today, this man is still the Sanemi Shinazugawa you fell in love with years ago.

“I am your wife”, you press out before a new wave of tears haunts you down.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n). So so sorry”, he mutters again and again while kissing every tear away that escapes your eyes.

“And I’ll never talk to you like that again, I promise.”

“Will you promise to not treat Tanjiro and Genya like that ever again too?”

Sanemi shifts his weight underneath you, his orbs growing hard again. Was this too much to ask for? No. Even though you love Sanemi’s rough side as well, he simply can’t do something like this again. Not when you’re his wife, not when you are expecting his first very own child.

“I will. But only if these jerks leave me alone”, he grumbles before giving you a passionate kiss.

“That might be manageable. I want to go home now…”

“No problem, I’ll carry you-“

“You really don’t have to carry me-“

“Oh, but I sure as hell will.”

“HAVE A GOOD NIGHT YOU TWO! AND DON’T ACT LIKE A JERK AGAIN, SHINAZUGAWA!”

“Did you have to tell her everything?”

“She’s my friend, Sanemi. Of course I had to.”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt

[secretlocket]

chris’s brothers catch him and sunshine!reader making out.

“they’re eventually gonna come back, y’know,” you giggle, resting your arms around chris’s shoulders as you shift on his lap. chris tilts his head back against the seat, his ceruleans glinting with amusement. “yeah, eventually. key word being eventually,” he replies, his hands lightly tracing patterns on your hips.

you glance out the window, eyes wandering over to the front door of the triplets’ apartment building, bouncing slightly on his lap in excitement. “honestly, i’m not even mad they’re taking forever. this just gives me more time to plan. i’ve got three secret santa gifts to shop for today—this is, like, my super bowl.”

chris’s fingers drum lazily against your waist as you shift on his lap, your attention drifting to the apartment building in front of you. for some reason, nick and matt are taking forever to come downstairs, but you can’t even bring yourself to care. the extra time feels like a gift in itself—more room to brainstorm, more time to plan.

your thoughts keep circling back to the three secret santa exchanges you got yourself looped up into for this year, each one more exciting than the last. first, there’s the one with the triplets and their friends. you somehow managed to draw chris’s name, and the irony has you practically buzzing with excitement.

you’ve been dying to shop for him, though you’ve also spent way too much time second-guessing your ideas. something funny? something heartfelt? maybe a mix of both? you want to find the perfect gift—something that’ll light up his face in that way only chris can. the thought of seeing his reaction is half the fun. honestly, you really just want to make him happy.

then there’s your friends’ exchange. that one’s a little easier, filled with inside jokes and personal traditions. you’ve already got a solid idea for that one—something cute and maybe a tad bit chaotic, just like your group.

and finally, your coworkers. that one’s tricky, mostly because you don’t know everyone as well as you’d like, but you’re determined to make it work. you’ve been piecing together ideas for days, scrolling through endless gift guides and pinterest boards, searching for something thoughtful without being over the top. you’re really glad you didn’t draw your managers name because that lady hits a nerve you didn’t even know existed—but that’s a story for another time.

chris’s hands pause on your hips, breaking you out of your thoughts. he tilts his head back to look at you, his blue eyes glinting with quiet amusement. “doesn’t look like they’ll be coming out any time soon, so…”

the brunette’s words trail off, but the playful glint in his eyes is enough to make your heart skip a beat. he leans in, closing the distance between you with a soft breath that sends a shiver down your spine. his lips find yours in a slow, teasing kiss, gentle at first, like he’s savoring the moment. his hands, still resting on your hips, tighten ever so slightly, pulling you closer, his touch warm against the fabric of your jeans.

to say that you aren’t the slightest bit nervous, well that’d be straight up bluff. you’ve been dating chris for a good seven months now and you guys haven’t done anything more than kiss—the thought of doing more makes sweat pool in the middle of your palms, though you’re not entirely sure if in front of his apartment in your jeep is the ideal place to bang.

the kiss deepens almost effortlessly. you can feel the change in the air as he presses his soft lips a little firmer against yours. his hand slides down your side, fingers trailing over your waist, before sliding lower, his palm coming to rest against the curve of your ass. the movement is slow, deliberate, as if he’s trying to gauge your response.

then, his kiss turns hungry, more urgent, as he tilts you back slightly, encouraging you to lean into him as he reaches down the side of the passenger seat to recline the seat back a little more. you can feel the heat between you grow, the way his lips move against yours with more intensity, like he can’t get enough. his hand on your hip moves to your back, pressing you flush against him as if he can’t bear the space between you. the kiss is messy now, breathless and frantic.

you find yourself responding, one hand slipping up to his neck, fingers threading through his hair as you tug him closer. his grip on your ass tightens, pulling you even further into him, and you can feel the heat of his body through the thin layers of your clothes. the sensation leaves you dizzy, a quiet, satisfied moan escaping your lips as you press closer to him, lost in the moment. any thoughts of his brothers, shopping for gifts, and the mall are long gone, somewhere discarded in the lost and found box in the back of your minds.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

well, spoken too soon.

you freeze, and chris freezes too, his hand still resting on your waist, his gaze flickering toward the window. you follow his line of sight and immediately recognize the faces of nick and matt standing outside the car—nick, who looks totally unfazed and matt, who’s head is down but judging by the way his body is shaking, you can tell he’s cracking up.

clearing your throat, you climb off chris’s body and make your way over to the driver’s side. quickly clicking on the buttons on the side panel, unlocking the car doors with shaky fingers. as soon as the doors click open, nick begins to talk, stepping forward with matt following closely behind.

“move to the back, kissy face freak, i called shotgun while your ass was still in bed,” the oldest triplets shoos away the youngest one as he watches him climb into the back. “we weren’t even gone that long and you two are in here sucking each other lips off.”

nick begins to discuss their secret santa shopping plan as you start the car, the wheels gliding smoothing across the road as the vehicle moves. you nod along as he speaks, but your mind is still buzzing from the rush you had earlier. and you’re more than a hundred percent sure matt still has that stupid grin on his face too.

the eldest triplet connects his phone to your jeep’s bluetooth, mumbling something about how he wants to play his music after being tortured from chris and matt’s playlists when the three stepped out to grab a few groceries—you’re not entirely too sure what he says after that when you catch a glimpse of chris’s gaze in your rear view mirror, the two of you exchanging embarrassed smiles before your attention goes back on the road.

messages from brie 🗯️ : once again, i am way too sure that this is over 100 words. this was really cute and fun to write 🙂‍↕️ i hope you all enjoyyyyy, i need to kiss this man asap or i’ll —

✷ tags : @sugrhigh @et6rnalsun @metanouias @eternaldecisions @sirenedeslily @freshloveee @lov3bug @cosmicanakin @chrissturnsfav @graciebrams

[gorysims]

KENTO NANAMI

ৎ୭ synopsis - house husband Nanami, whose favorite hobby is baking, wants you, his pretty little wife, to taste his new custard cream pie filling.

ৎ୭ wrd count - 721

ৎ୭ house husband series

House husband! nanami who loves his pretty little wife just as much as he loves baking, isn't particularly open about his love for baking like he is for his wife; he enjoys it enough to consider it a hobby.

House husband! Nanami, who's recently been studying a new pie recipe for you to try, and he's almost perfected it, except for the cream filling. For the past week and a half, he's been struggling to find the perfect filling, and as of lately, it's really been annoying him.

House husband! Nanami ears perked up the second he hears the locks on the front door unlocking and soon enough he’s wiping his flour covered hands on his ‘kiss the cook’ apron before heading towards the front door to greet you his lovely wife.

House husband! Nanami who greets you with a look of content as he steps forward to grab your purse with one hand and paper bag filled with groceries in his other hand before setting them down on the console table near the front door.

House husband! Nanami who then helps you take of your coat before tilting his head down slightly and pecking a kiss onto your lips, “how was your day?” he’s asking as he hangs your coat up on the coat rack while you hum thinking about how to answer his question and slipping off your sling back stiletto kitten heels and stepping into your house shoes.

“It was good Ken, Oh! and I just remembered—it's Higuruma's birthday! Make sure to give him a call so he knows you haven't forgotten.” you say as nanami nods his head in remembrance before grabbing the bag of groceries and heading off to the kitchen.

House husband! Nanami not typically one for talking, quickly apologies for the mess he made…The sink holding a small stack of dishes, while flour dusted the dark oak hardwood floors. and bowls of different fruit flavored custard cream fillings just sitting there lined up on the granite island counter top.

“baby you don’t need to apologize, i know how hard you’ve been working lately” you comment softly while sneakily dipping your finger into one of the fillings while his back is turned, you knew your husband could be quite the neat freak so you never minded when nanami made small messes because you know he’d clean up after himself either way.

House husband! Nanami whose ears flushed pink after hearing you call him baby, even though you’ve been married for years he still never got used the the pet names you’d call him…thankfully he was turned around so you wouldn’t be able to how flushed his face was.

“this one needs some vanilla extract” you say after licking the lemon-flavored cream off your finger, the taste was somewhat sour and with the little knowledge of baking you had, you knew adding vanilla would balance the flavor. Honestly, you were surprised that Nanami hadn’t thought of it already.

House husband! Nanami whose left eye twitches slightly after hearing your words, how could he not think to add vanilla of all things.

and now here House husband! Nanami was letting out gruntled groans as he sank himself into the warmth of your cunt, your body was pushed against the granite counter top, black pencil skirt somehow pushed up your to your waist while the sheer stockings your wore were now ripped open with your panties pushed to the side.

needy moans leave your lips as you clench around your husband’s girth, nanami, whose grip on your hair never falters while muttering the nastiest of praises into your ears. You’re practically hanging on by a thread—Nanami stretching out your walls with each thrust and muttering how much he adores and appreciates you and your pussy.

his apron long gone and forgotten to the side, same with the grocery, “kennnnn” you moan out dragging out the n in the little nickname, your so close to reaching your orgasm and nanami knows it, he’s studied everything about you, from how pretty you look cumming on his dick to how your eyes get droopy and your pupils would dilate.

nanami leaned forward feeling himself working through his own and letting his grip on your hair go, another round of gruntled groans leave his mouth as his hot sticky cum shoots into you.

guess you could say your husband’s pie wasn’t the only thing getting filled. <3

@gorysims — this is my first time writing on tumblr so I’m very new to shit like this so constructive criticism is very much welcomed and appreciated.

all work belongs to me @gorysims, do not try to copy or revise my work without asking me cause I’ll shut that shit down real fast.

[blondwhxrewrites]

Pornstar!Mattheo Riddle, where he's literally the most infamous man on Pornhub, known to give his girls (and sometimes boys) the greatest fuck of their life. Everyone is clamoring to book a shoot with him because his videos get so many views, and, well...he's just so good at fucking people. He knows exactly how the body works and can make any woman or man scream. He runs an OnlyFans on the side that has thousands of subscribers tuning in for his live streams. Sometimes he brings in someone, and other times he does it by himself. He's literally living the life.

Then Pansy brings you to hang out with him and his friends one day. Mattheo gets one good look at you and knows he has to fuck you. He doesn't care if it's on camera or not; he's getting your pretty little ass into his bed somehow. And it becomes ten times worse when he finds out you're a virgin. He ends up following you around like a puppy but refuses to admit he has actual feelings for you even though it's painfully obvious that he's in love with you.

He's over the moon when you finally agree to do a shoot with him, and he's so over the top about it too. He gets you a pretty lingerie set, asks if you want to do anything with toys; hell, he even would sprinkle rose petals on the bed for you if you asked him to. When everything is set up and he starts recording, he basically jumps you.

He's always been rough in bed, but he's trying so hard to be gentle with you as he slowly gets you worked up to take his cock. Not going to lie, he spends most of that time absolutely devouring your pussy. He's addicted to the way you taste and how you scream and moan his name when he curls his fingers against your g-spot over and over again.

He almost cums right then and there when he slowly pushes his cock inside of you. He's never been very vocal when it comes to sex, but he's whimpering and moaning as he pounds into you. By the time he's done with you, you've at least cummed five times, and you're probably barely conscious (you agreed beforehand that he could do whatever the hell he wanted with you).

He cleans you up, and makes sure you're all good after he stops the recording. And then he just collapses onto the bed next to you and he clings onto you for the rest of the night.

When he finally starts to edit the video, he almost can't because every time he watches it he gets so horny and he ends up jerking off to it. Honestly, he considers never uploading it because he wants to keep it—you—all to himself.

When he does eventually upload it, it quickly becomes the most viewed video he's ever had. All the comments are gushing over the fact that he's so clearly in love with you. You quickly become a fan favorite, with all his fans wanting to see you again because Mattheo obviously has feelings for you.

Little did they know he's reading those comments with you snuggled up beside him in bed (:

[pomefioredove]

housewardens + Jamil (separately) with a reader who is their s/o and reader is low-key their simp

like they won't worship the ground they walk on, but they just.. admire..??

like reader and the character will be hanging out, on a date, or in class or something and reader just sighs dreamily and looks at them with a look of like "im the luckiest person alive." because they love them so much

and if caught the reader won't be embarrassed and will just be like "you're so pretty." or "I'm so happy we're dating"

ik it's cringe lol but if I had one of these men as my boyfriend (cough Idia cough) I would literally just admire them so much because I love them so much and they're so freaking pretty

SWEEEEP I love fluff I love a healthy couple

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ abject admiration

summary: close enough. welcome back gomez addams! type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, kalim, jamil, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic, FLUFFY!, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, established relationship

Riddle used to hate being stared at. it felt like judgment, like he was being put on trial for something he didn't do. as if the world was just... waiting for him to make a mistake so it could punish him. the first time he catches you staring, long before you were together, he almost had your head for it. now, the feeling of your eyes on him has become a comfort, though your words of admiration, your praises and affection, still make him blush

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona couldn't even remember the last time his parents told him they loved him. so when he hears it from you, his first instinct is to push you away. he thinks it's justified; you must want something, I mean, who would be so nice to him for no reason?

well, you. you would

he'd never admit it, but these days, he goes out of his way to do nice things for you, to make himself look and smell good, just to get more of your praises

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

"you're so beautiful" and Azul crumbles. as cunning as he is, you could have him eating out of the palm of your hand if you really wanted to. he considers himself a fortunate soul, because all you ask for in return is his time and affection

your compliments are better than any deal, your voice more melodious than any song. the very thought that you think he is pretty... him, of all people... well, you could bring him to his knees with a word

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

fawning over Kalim is absolutely impossible. he's not competitive by nature, but what you give him, he gives back ten times over. one kiss turns into ten, two gifts into twenty, and, of course, one praise turns into an entire soliloquy. you're lucky to have him? he's luckier than the richest man in the world, the most powerful mage, he insists even the Sorcerer of the Sands himself would fall to his knees and weep if he were to see your beauty. you're his sun, his moon, and his stars, and he never lets you forget it

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jamil had never been in love, let alone in a relationship, before you. you're his first everything... and that means you're his first admirer, too. honestly, he's not really sure whether to believe you or not at first. "I'm so happy we're dating," surely, you're not talking about him...?

but you are. he can't even fathom why, but you are

...sometimes, it's better not to question everything

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil gets his fair share of compliments, and rightfully so. he's put in the work, he deserves the recognition. and, for Seven's sake, Rook is his vice housewarden- he can't escape compliments

but... somehow, they're so much different coming from you. maybe it's the way you say things, soft and gentle and full of admiration, maybe it's your voice, or maybe it's just because it's you. because he knows that when you say you're happy with him, you mean him, not the brand, not the image, not what he's expected to be. just... him. it's true love

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Idia.exe has stopped working

even after months of dating, you still manage to catch him off guard with your "cringe couple stuff", as he calls it. it's... very distracting. you'll be mid-game, staring at him, and when he asks if you hit your head on the way in, you'll say something like "just thinking about how pretty you are" and his brain will short circuit. it's too bad he can't patch that... he'd love to respond without melting into an Idia-shaped puddle

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

being head over heels for Malleus is both a blessing and a curse. on one hand, he'll reciprocate that energy. on the other hand, he'll reciprocate that energy. even a simple "you look nice today" sends him over the moon with joy, and he will unapologetically cling to your side like the needy thing he is for the rest of the day, glaring at anyone who dares to take your attention off of him for more than twelve seconds. but, hey, you know what you like. you agreed to date him in the first place, after all

[lov-3-rs]

Let’s be Honest

Simon Riley (Bodyguard) x Reader!!

(mdni 18+)

Your father is an undercover investigator working a dangerous case on a human trafficking ring. Unfortunately, they somehow discovered his intentions, and now they're out for revenge. So, they’ve put a bounty on your head, claiming you’re worth millions to whoever is able to find you and sell you to the best bidder. Despite the danger, your father can’t abandon his mission as there were other lives on the line. He’s too close to cracking the case, rescuing the victims. To protect you, he hired someone no one would see coming for them and that was going to be protecting you. He hired a Ghost.

————————————————————————————

The moment you saw the brute, you couldn’t believe it. This 6’3”, 220lb, constantly masked man was supposed to be by your side for who knows how long. The sheer size of him was intimidating enough, but the mask? It kept you wondering what kind of man was beneath it.

You couldn’t argue with your father, though. He wanted you safe, and you weren’t about to be taken and sold off to some creep. So, you dealt with it. But now it’s been two months too long. Two damn months of constant monitoring, endless rules, and the same warnings: 'You need to listen to me Y/n,' 'Stay by my side,' or ‘It’s not safe.' It was honestly getting sickening at the fact he had complete control over your day to day life now.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“I was thinking of going shopping today, get some fresh air,” you say, taking a bite of your breakfast. He stands near the window, eyes scanning the street outside like he always does. “Maybe,” he says, his voice low, almost disinterested. You roll your eyes. “Jesus Christ, why not? It’s just us walking down the street, Simon.”

You started using his real name after weeks of pestering him to tell you. It felt weird calling him “Ghost” all the time—like something out of a video game. What good was being around someone this long if you didn’t even know their name?

He glances back at you, his expression unreadable behind the mask—if there’s an expression at all. Then, just as silently, he turns back to the window. “You never know.” You put your fork down and stop eating, “Simon, I can’t keep going days without stepping foot outside, i’m literally going insane”, he steps away from the window and pulls a chair out to sit beside you. “Everything I do and everything I say is to protect you, that is the whole reason I am here”. you looked into his hauntingly dead eyes. “Please you can’t keep me trapped in these walls”. You say with hesitation in your voice wondering if this will be another useless plea to let him agree for you to get out the house. He paused for a moment before nodding his head in agreement. You smile, “oh my gosh really? we can go?!” you say quickly standing from your chair in excitement. “yes. but the moment I feel something is off we leave, immediately” he says sternly. You were already putting your plate away and running to your room to get ready.

You visited a few of your favorite stores near your house, picking up small items here and there. Simon stayed close, as usual, walking silently beside you. As you stepped out of another shop, he leaned in slightly, his voice low. “We’re going to one more store, then we’re heading home. Do you understand?” You shot him a side-eye but nodded, not in the mood for another argument.

The last stop was the lingerie shop—you had been eyeing their new fall line for weeks. You grabbed a few panties and bras before something else caught your eye: the most stunning, sexy set you’d ever seen. You had to try it on. Walking into the dressing room, you slipped out of your clothes and into the delicate lace set. The fabric felt luxurious against your skin. You peeked your head out, only seeing Simon waiting, his posture as stoic as ever. You stepped out to check yourself in the mirror, admiring the way the set hugged your curves. From the corner of his eye, Simon caught sight of you. His jaw clenched almost immediately as he tried to keep his focus elsewhere, but it was impossible. He’d been around you every day for two months, and he had seen plenty—your tight shirts with no bra, shorts that barely covered anything. He’d always kept his cool, reminding himself that you were off-limits, and he took care of himself whenever you were asleep or when he took a shower. But seeing you now, in something so revealing, stirred something deeper in him that made his jeans tighten. He forced himself to remain still, but the tension in his body betrayed his thoughts. Respect for your father, the job—those were the only things keeping him from acting on what he felt. And he had to keep it that way, or at least he was trying to.

You caught Simon’s gaze in the mirror, and for a moment, the air between you seemed to shift. His eyes were unreadable behind the mask, but you could feel something he wasn’t saying. You quickly looked away, clearing your throat. “What do you think?” you asked casually, but your pulse quickened. You didn’t know why you even asked—it wasn’t like you cared what he thought about lingerie. Or did you?

He blinked, caught off guard. “About what?”

“The lingerie,” you teased, crossing your arms. “I thought I’d get a professional opinion.” His jaw tightened more, but you caught the flicker of something in his eyes. “You don’t need my opinion.” You stepped a little closer, testing his boundaries. “Maybe I do.” He stayed still, but you could see the tension in his stance. His voice, when he spoke, was low. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.” You laughed lightly. “What? Shopping?” His eyes met yours, and for a second, there was nothing but silence between you. “No,” he said softly, almost reluctantly. “This.” The weight of his words hung in the air. For a moment, neither of you moved. His response was a beat too slow. “You should hurry up,” he muttered, his voice deeper than usual. You rolled your eyes, but his tone made your skin tingle. There was something about the way he held himself that made you wonder—did he see you the way you were starting to see him? You slipped back into the dressing room to change, but the tension lingered, thick in the air. When you came out, dressed again, Simon stood up immediately, his shoulders tense. “Let’s go.” The rest of the walk home was quiet, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something between you had shifted.

You walked into the house, setting your bags down and slipping off your shoes. Simon followed closely behind, immediately locking the door and heading to the windows like he always did, scanning the outside for any sign of danger. But your mind was elsewhere, replaying that one word—this—over and over again.

What did ‘it’ mean? You had to know.

“Simon,” you called out softly, still unable to meet his eyes. “What did you mean earlier?” He stiffened immediately, turning to face you. He knew exactly what you were talking about, but he’d been hoping you would let it go. He didn’t mean to let that word slip out, and now he was trying to think of a way around it. “What do you mean?” His tone was even, but there was a slight edge to it, a hint of tension. You swallowed, gathering your courage. “You said I was making this hard. I’m not sure what that means… I want you to tell me.” Finally, you looked up at him, meeting his gaze. For a moment, Simon just stared at you, his jaw clenching and unclenching like he was fighting with himself. His silence hung in the air, thick and heavy, as though he was weighing whether or not to tell you the truth. He turned back to the window, staring outside as if it would give him the answer he needed. “You’re making my job harder,” he said after a long pause, but there was something in his voice—a hesitation. But you had a smirk on your face knowing exactly what it was, “it was the set wasn’t it?” there was a pause, “you thought I looked good, too good right?” you stepped closer to him testing his limits wanting more reaction out of him. “I think you should keep this fantasy shit to yourself” he said quickly snapping back at you, but you kept pushing, “I don’t blame you Simon, I bet it’s been months since you got laid and I won’t lie it’s been a hot minute for me too with you being around me all the time, having me cooped in this house” you can see his brows furrowing. “you’re crossing the god damn line” that’s what he was saying but the raging boner in his pants said completely different about your attitude.

Before you knew it, he was stepping toward you, his hand gripping your arm firmly. “You’re pushing me too far,” he said, his voice low and rough. You met his gaze, feeling a mix of fear and excitement. “Maybe I need you to push back,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The moment was charged, and without warning, one of his hands let go from your arm to lift up his mask above his nose exposing his lips. your eyes widen never seeing anything but his eyes for the last few months. Before you knew it his lips were on yours, It was intense and consuming, leaving both of you breathless and more entangled than before.

He picked you up and put you on the dining table. the kiss became more passionate with his hands tangled in your hair, you could feel your core throb waiting to be touched. Simon pulled away from you and looked into your eyes, “you don’t understand how long i’ve wanted to touch you” he says breathing heavily. “all those times you walked around with no bra and I could see your fucking nipples through your shirt and the times you walked around with your ass out, god I wanted to bend you over, i’d fuck you right there and don’t even forget about the times I could here you moaning in the shower doing god knows what to that pussy, ya fuckin minx” your cunt was practically dripping at his words, your breathing became more heavier, “Then do it Simon, bend me over and fuck me” before you could say anymore he already was turning you over on the counter and pulling your pants down. “already planning on it love”. Simon pulled your pants down then slowly pulled your panties down revealing your wet pussy. he bent down to get eye level with it bring his fingers up to your folds and playing with your clit. You moaned at his touched, “fuh-fuck”. Simon pulled his fingers away and replaced it with his tongue, licking your throbbing clit and making you squirm.

He ate you out till you came on his mouth, “Si please”. Simon got up and looked at your bent over form while he started unbuckling his pants, “please what love?” he already knew what you wanted and he wanted it just as bad. “fuck me hard” he smiled at your words taking his hard cock in his hand rubbing his pre cum all over the top of his head giving it extra lubricant. He aligned his cocked to your hole and slammed into you making you jump, “Shhhhhhhit” you hiss out the word from the painful pleasure. He started to thrust in and out of you hearing your moans made him want to cum already but he couldn’t, it felt too damn good to stop now. Simon bent down to your ear, “All those fuckin times you were playing with this tight cunt in the shower, who were you thinkin about huh?”. You didn’t want to answer out of embarrassment but you did it anyways, “y-you si, I thought about sucking your cock and you cumming all over my tits” that snapped something in him when you said that, his pace picked up he started fucking you harder, his balls slapping against your clit. “what would ya daddy think of the man he hired to protect you fucking your pussy raw?”. You could feel your self about to cum, “Si I’m gonna cum on your cock” his thrust became sloppier feeling himself about to finish too, “cum baby, cum”. Simon thrusted harder into your cunt making your back arch more and your ass jiggle against his hips the sight was pushing him over the edge, “god damn baby i’m gonna to cum” his hands gripped into your hips harder. “Simon cum inside me god please”. He busted a load in you, pushing his cock feel in you making sure nothing came out, “fuckin hell”.

After the intensity of the moment subsided, Simon and you lay there in the aftermath, the room now quiet except for your shared breathing. He gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch tender. “I didn’t plan for this,” Simon said softly, his voice filled with a mixture of regret and affection. “I never wanted to cross that line.” You turned to face him, your own emotions swirling. “Neither did I, but… it felt right in the moment. I just want to know what this means for us.” Simon looked at you with a conflicted expression. “I don’t have all the answers. This situation is complicated, and I’m still trying to figure out how to balance my feelings with my responsibilities.” he says lowly “I understand,” you replied, taking his hand in yours. “I just need to know where we stand. Do you want to try and make this work, or is this something we need to move past?” There was a pause as Simon considered his words. “I care about you more than I should,” he admitted. “But I also need to focus on keeping you safe. We’ll have to navigate this carefully.” You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and uncertainty. “We’ll figure it out together,” you said, squeezing his hand.

“As long as we’re honest with each other.”