#i think that was the first time i was absolutely happy to be a woman

[angellic4l]

boys, bets, and sobriquets - d.m

content: tw! reader has something similar to an anxiety attack but it isn’t specified as that! flirty!derek, bau!reader, hurt comfort (?), angst, fluff, there’s a ‘bet’ made, reader has a shitty date, swearing/cussing, they argue ofc, one bed trope.

wc: 5.2k

a/n: my first ever request!! i’m so honoured and just happy that someone trusted me with their vision, i hope this is what you wanted angel!

Faint sounds of the regular office shenanigans danced around the bullpen; soft clicks of computer keyboards, Reid flipping the pages of some obscure novel at a subhuman speed, Andersen brewing a pot of coffee, and the scrawl of your pen on a case file all coming together to sing the corporate symphony.

One noise was missing though, the sound of Derek’s chair moving side to side as he talks to everyone and anyone possible rather than actually doing his work. His voice rings out from by the glass doors and your head rises from the manilla folder to see what’s going on. His eyes meet yours, an arrogant, self-satisfied smirk on his face, one that tells you he actually got the new receptionist’s number.

Morgan takes his seat across from yours, looking at you expectantly, awaiting your questioning of his absence or why he’s so happy. Instead, you shake your head at him but the smile on your face betrays your mock disapproval. With a soft sigh, your hand loosens its grip around the pen, letting it drop to the oak desk beneath you.

“Alright, I’ll bite. You got the receptionist’s number, I’m guessing?”

“Number? No, no, baby girl, I got a date and her number. You underestimate my charm.”

“Right, I forgot that you were such a CasaNova.”

“I prefer the term irresistible, sugar.”

“This actually works for you? The whole cocky womaniser thing?”

“I’m not cocky. It’s called confidence. And a little sweet talking.”

“Oh, I’m sure they all love your ‘confidence’. I refuse to believe any respectable woman would fall for that,” you tease, tone making it clear you’re joking.

“Oh, like you wouldn’t fall for all of this,” he retorts, hand gesturing from his face down to his torso.

“In all seriousness, I really wouldn’t. You’re not my type, D.”

“Not your type? Sugar, don’t play with me right now.”

“I’m not! I just wouldn’t fall for it, it’s not my thing.”

“Let’s make a bet, then. I flirt with you-“

“Absolutely not,” you scoff.

“Let me finish! I flirt with you, you flirt with me, and we’ll see who falls first.”

You ponder his words for a while, going through it in your head. Morgan’s physically attractive, sure, but almost everybody thinks that. With your time at the BAU, you figure if you were going to fall for him, it would’ve happened already. Fuck it, why not?

“You’re on, Morgan. Be warned, you’re gonna fall in love with me.”

That little bet was made 3 months ago. You remember it like it was yesterday because it was the day you subjected yourself to the worst fate possible. Falling fast and hard for Derek Morgan.

Now, every time he flirts with you and you flirt back, it just stings. It’s like a cruel snippet of what could be if he liked you back, if you swallowed your pride and let him win, if you would just tell him. Instead, you reciprocate the flirting, keep your pride intact by never admitting anything, and keep your feelings for him a secret.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

A ringing noise rouses you from sleep, the soft vibration of your phone reverberating throughout the oak nightstand to the left of you. It’s not the sound of your alarm, and based on how the only light your eyes had to adjust to came from your phone, you suspect it’s a phone call instead. Another case, presumably.

Tired limbs scramble to find the phone, your hands fumbling until they feel it beneath them, and you pick up without even looking at the contact name. Sleep has yet to leave your body, still lingering like a phantom, so your voice is groggy when you speak.

“Hello?”

“Hi, angel. You know I hate to do this, but Hotch needs everybody in the office in 30. Urgent case,” a soft, saccharine voice rings out, one you recognise as Penelope’s.

“M’kay. Be there soon, Penny. Love you.”

“I love you too, dear,” she says before the line goes dead, leaving you in silence once more.

As you pull the phone away from your ear, your eyes catch the time displayed on the phone: 2:36 AM. A groan escapes your lips when you realise it had only been 5 hours since you left the BAU, 3 of which you’d been asleep for. Being called in after just coming back from a case was annoying, but this soon was just infuriating.

By the time you were at the BAU, it was safe for anybody to say, profiler or not, that your mood was absolutely sour. Since Penelope had called you back in, your day had only gotten worse. While in a rush to get ready, hands flying everywhere to rag clothes on, you’d managed to lose an earring. On the way into work, someone had cut you off at an intersection, causing you to slam on your brakes, ultimately sending your coffee all over the passenger seat.

Operating on 3 hours of sleep was easy enough, standard for most FBI agents, especially for you. That wasn’t the issue here, no, it was the fact that you’d been called in after just returning from a week’s long case, the act somehow triggering an infuriating chain of events for you, leaving you earringless, coffeeless, and bitter.

Once everyone else had arrived, it was clear they could sense the sourness radiating from you, only sharing small greetings instead of sparking up a conversation. Hotch announced the briefing would be done on the plane to save time, prompting everyone to grab their go-bags and start to move.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

After shoving your go-bag into the overhead space, more aggressively than needs be, you take a seat around one of the tables and watch as the others follow suit. Everyone seems almost hesitant to sit next to you, hovering before sitting somewhere else, disrupting the order of everyone’s usual seats. It’s sort of understandable, it’s obvious that you’re in a mood of some sorts and they’re probably just trying to give you breathing room, but it’s only annoyed you a little more.

Morgan ends up taking the seat next to you of his own free will, considering there were still 3 empty seats he could’ve sat in. Usually, you’d be happy to have Morgan sit next to you, but most of your conversations involve playful flirting, something you’re not in the mood for right now.

What doesn’t help is your growing feelings for him; on a normal day, playful flirting is hard because you know it doesn’t mean anything, but today isn’t a normal day. Today, you’re pissed off and tired, and the thought of entertaining something that’s only going to make you feel worse is utterly dreadful.

Maybe he’ll spare you, you think, he knows that you’re not in the mood for it, so he might just leave it alone and not say anything. Hotch’s voice steals your attention from the thought, pulling your focus to the case at hand instead.

The briefing moves fast, ideas being bounced around like a ping pong ball being bounced off the pegs in an arcade game, everybody collaborating with different theories, or building on someone else’s. Garcia searches what she can based on the few things you can all profile for certain, but it’s clear that this case won’t be an easy one.

The killer is experienced, that much is obvious, but that means he’s killed before. Where, none of you are sure because VI-CAP doesn’t have a match for the M.O you’ve all decided on. It’s not looking good for the BAU, the case is probably going to span over a week and the thought makes you even more annoyed.

Garcia’s face vanishes from the plasma screen across from you as the team starts to spread out throughout he jet, following the end of the briefing. Majority of the time, you’d sit yourself at the back of the jet and listen to music until you fell asleep, or talk to somebody, but you’re too tired to move from this chair.

Apparently, Morgan shares the same sentiment, unmoving from the spot next to you. Any and all hope of him leaving you alone starts to dissipate, knowing that Derek’s chatty, especially with you, has you dreadfully anticipating his conversation. With your luck, or lack thereof today, it comes.

“Hey, pretty girl. How’s my favourite bombshell?”

“Okay. ‘M just tired.”

“You know I can tell when you’re lying, right, sunshine?”

“Morga-“

“-‘Cause, you haven’t given me any of those sweet names, you’re not even looking at me, and your body language is telling me you’re pissed. What’s wrong, sugar?”

Morgan’s analysis fills you with fear - sure, he’s a profiler and even if he wasn’t, it’s obvious you’re in a shitty mood, but it’s not that - you make sure to hide any tells of the anxiety you’re experiencing. If Morgan can rattle all of that off with so much as one look at you, he’s been profiling you for a while. That means he knows. He knows that you like him. And he still flirts with you anyway?

Even if you didn’t think it possible, you’re even more pissed off with that fact, hell, you’re angry. Who on Earth flirts with someone they know has feelings for them? It’s cruel, hurtful, and disrespectful, none of which you thought Derek was, but clearly you’ve wildly misjudged him.

“What happened to ‘we don’t profile each other’? God, you’re such a dick, Morgan.”

“Hey, what? Mama, what is going on with you?” He asks, clear exasperation and confusion written on his face. You bite down a scoff because of course, he’s playing dumb to it.

“The fact that you’re asking is evidence enough. So obsessed with your own pride that you can’t even see what you’re doing to the people around you? Really? God, Morgan, it’s like you don’t even have eyes,” you snap, tone sharp and cutting.

“Mama, I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Back up for a second, obsessed with my own pride? Is this you talking or are you in one of those ‘man-hater’ moods again?”

Morgan’s use of the words ‘man hater mood’ take you back to an incident last month. You bristle at the fact he’s bringing that up, even more so that he doesn’t believe you’re actually mad at him.

It was a Saturday night and you had a date planned, one that, due to the demands of the job, had been rescheduled three times. This time was lucky, though, because you had no case, no paperwork, and no reports due. The guy was lovely, so understanding every time you’d had to reschedule, and he was handsome, too.

Once you’d left work, giddy and smiling to yourself on the drive home, the only thing going through your head was how excited you were for the date. A week before that, you and the girls had gone shopping together, scouring D.C’s small boutiques and high end stores. While with Emily in one of the boutiques, the cutest outfit had caught your eye, it was perfect; your favourite colour, exactly your style, and looked incredibly flattering when you’d tried it on. The girls convinced you to wear it on your date, commenting on how gobsmacked the guy’d be, so you bought it.

After restyling your hair and slipping into the beautiful outfit, you were putting your shoes on at the front door. Midway through slipping your shoes on, your phone buzzed on the side table in the hallway, with bated breath, you crossed your fingers and wished it wasn’t a case. What was on the screen was infinitely worse, though.

date

hey, i don’t think this’ll work. you’re too unreliable for me. kinda crazy you cancelled 3 times for ‘work’ and can now suddenly meet up because we changed it to a restaurant.

To say you were in a foul mood the next day would be the understatement of the century. To cancel because of his reason was insane for many reasons, but the two that pissed you off the most stuck. One - that the date had changed on his accord. The weather wasn’t the greatest, so instead of the picnic in the park that was planned, he’d asked if you wanted to go to a restaurant instead. Two - that he cancelled right before the date, as if he’d just suddenly had a change of heart when he’d clearly summed you up as a gold digger long before.

As you’d walked into the BAU and sat at your desk across from Derek’s, he didn’t notice your mood straight away because he hadn’t looked up yet. So, he operated as usual:

“Good morning, angel. How’s the prettiest lady in the whole FBI?”

“Ugh, don’t even. I’m really not in the mood today, D.”

With that he looked up and his brows immediately furrowed in concern at the annoyed expression on your face, dark circles under your eyes, and the way the light in your eyes had dimmed.

“What’s up? Someone I have to beat up?”

“I hate men. Fucking hate them. They’re all so grimey and disgusting and fucking horrible.”

“Don’t generalise us, sweetheart. What have I ever done to you?”

Instead of giving him a verbal response, you just shot him a glare before turning on your computer and carrying on with your day.

Contrary to your own belief, you could get even angrier than you were, even more annoyed than you thought possible for the already shitty day you’ve been having, and Morgan’s the main reason for this revelation at the moment.

He’s still looking at you, awaiting your answer to his question with an unreadable expression on his face. Finally, you turn your head to look at him, tongue poking the inside of your mouth in some futile attempt to control it. It doesn’t work.

“Wow. You genuinely don’t believe that I could be mad at you, that it’s some other guy’s fault, huh? I’m not in a ‘man hater’ mood, I’m just mad at you! You don’t see what you’re doing Morgan, you’re oblivious to it, and it’s pissing me off.”

“Baby gi-“

“-Just leave me alone, Morga-“

“- Fine.”

A scoff leaves your lips, bitter on your tongue as it escapes because you know you shouldn’t have said it. You know you shouldn’t have opened your mouth, told him how you feel in such a snappy way. You’re in a bad mood, having let the small things get to you, and you like Derek so much that his pet names and his flirting spark fire where they should leave warmth.

As if on cue, he rises from the seat next to you and walks down the aisle in a huff, sits down in an empty seat, and shoves his headphones in. Great. On top of your so-far shitty day, you’ve managed to push away the one person who makes everything instantly better. Probably squashed the tiny chance of him ever liking you back, too.

A sharp pang in your chest leaves you feeling sick, the hurt manifesting itself as something physical deep inside, and you wish you weren’t so difficult. Instead of talking, just simply saying today was going horribly and it had affected your mood, you’d let your astringent tongue take over.

The child inside of you wants to curl up in the fetal position, cry a million rivers over a boy, feel sorry for itself while simultaneously picking at every insecurity she harbours. Instead, you opt for sleeping, a temporary escapism from the shitty position you’ve put yourself in, leaning your head back and closing your eyes.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

After landing in Montana, you’re woken up by Emily’s gentle hand on your shoulder, shaking you ever so slightly. The rest of the team was already making their way off of the jet, go-bags in hand, walking off in a line due to the small aisle. Once your limbs were a bit more awake, you stood up and followed suit.

The team went from the jet to the SUV’s, making their way to the Livingston police department. Your car was semi-silent, the only noises to be heard are the small murmurs of Reid and JJ in the back of the SUV and silent melodies from the radio.

You’re in the passenger seat next to Hotch, while Morgan sits to the left of JJ and Spencer. Usually, he’d be involved in their conversation, cracking jokes and laughing his ass off with them. Instead, he’s silent. The absence of his voice rings loudly in your ears, guilt taking root in the ashes of the previous anger that once burned. It’s your fault he’s not being himself, you just had to open your mouth when you were in a mood, didn’t you?

Eyes watch him discreetly through the rearview mirror, his arms crossed over his chest, half sunken into the leather seat, brooding. Derek’s demeanour and body language is far from how he usually is, distant and angry instead of present and bubbly. He looks so different when he’s like this; distant and angry, far from his bubbly self.

For the rest of the day, it stays the same, Derek seemingly not himself, the same surly expression on him all day. Every time you look at him, it hurts - knowing that it’s because you couldn’t control yourself, you let your emotions take over rational thought - and the pangs of guilt become excruciating by the hour.

By the time Hotch decides to call it a night and have everyone head back to the hotel, your heart physically hurts with all of the guilt that’s pressing on it and the longing tugging at it. All you’ve wanted for the past 3 months is for the flirting between you and Morgan to be real, to have him feel the same way about you as you do him. At some point, the flirting started to weigh you down, leave you with an empty feeling in the deep pits of your stomach, and a yearning so strong that it seemed pathetic.

Realistically, the silly ‘bet’ was only ever going to go one of two ways. The pair of you would have distanced, one of you would’ve pushed the other away so that you didn’t have to experience a taste of what could be before it was ripped away from you. Alternatively, all restraint one of you had would’ve snapped, the fight to not let the other win, the pride you both held so dearly would’ve lost i’s fuel, resulting in a confession from either side. In some weird, twisted way, it’d managed to be both of them on your end.

Without realising, a sigh escapes your lips as you walk in a huddle with the team into the hotel’s lobby, pulling you out of your own thoughts. Head snapping up from the red carpet beneath your feet, your eyes lock with JJ’s, who’s giving you a questioning look. You find yourself responding with a shake of the head to tell her it’s nothing, then averting her gaze before she can tell that something’s up.

The group of weary, exhausted agents make their way to the front desk, all of you moving in a similar fashion to that of a pack of zombies.

The view would be funny if all of you weren’t aching for some much needed rest. Majority of you collapse into some couches while Hotch and Rossi go to get the keys from the front desk.

Both men return to the waiting area in the lobby after about 5 minutes, 4 sets of keys in hand. When you finally look up at them, your face contorts in confusion as to why there’s only 4 sets of keys when there’s 7 of you. As your lips part in anticipation to start asking questions, your brain answers them for you, recalling the information that was relayed to you all on the way to the airstrip, seemingly forgotten in the haze of your guilty, self-deprecating thoughts.

Shit.

Considering the case was so last minute, there were only 4 rooms available at the nearest hotel, so Hotch let everyone know they’d be sharing. To avoid any arguments and prolonged delay to sleep, everyone had agreed to pair with the same person as the last time you’d all had to share rooms. Hotch and Rossi, Emily and JJ, Spencer got his own room because of his aversion to germs, and you and Morgan.

You and Morgan. In a room together.

Clearly, the universe wasn’t done with sending you a chain of awful events today, because this had to take the fucking cake. Being in a room with Morgan has never been a bad thing, but you’ve also never argued with him and basically confessed that you like him. The words never explicitly left your mouth, but surely he’d figured it out a while ago based on your body language, right?

Hotch distributes the keys to someone from every pair, snapping you out of your thoughts once more as he holds a pair out to you. Tiredly, you take it before standing up and grabbing your bag with your other hand. Today has been long, excruciatingly so, you can just go to the room and fall asleep in your own bed. You think, an attempt to ease the unease that’s residing within you.

A gloomy Derek trails behind you, almost reluctantly if your profiling skills were still intact while being this tired, the sight sends another agonising sting of guilt through your heart. As shitty of him as it was to have profiled how you felt and still carry on flirting, he isn’t the only one who has blame in the situation - you agreed to the bet, you could’ve called the whole thing off, confessed your feelings and let him win, but you didn’t - you had your share in the whole thing, too.

The door lock clicks when you turn the key, opening the door to your new home for god knows how long, but you drop said keys on the floor when you get into the room. Similarly, Morgan comes to a stop behind you when he takes in the sight before you both, silence enveloping the room as you both remain still.

In the middle of the room, in between two windows, stood a double bed with an oak headboard. Not two single beds, or two twin beds, hell not even a bunk-bed like the one you’d both had to share in some dingy motel, no, it was a double.

Sharing a room with Morgan was okay before, you’d done it plenty of times in smaller towns or when the coordinator messed up the booking, but the pair of you had never shared a bed. It was even worse now because you weren’t on speaking terms, now that you’d basically confessed your feelings for him, now that you’d figured he profiled it a while ago.

When you realise you’ve been standing eerily still for a while, you can’t move to break it. Fear consumes your limbs, blocking any and all signals from your brain to the central nervous system, keeping you in place. The only thing you can think about is Morgan’s reaction to this; what does he think about it? Is he mad? Is he gonna walk out? How does he feel about what happened on the jet?

Suddenly, you realise you haven’t even thought about his reaction to anything you’d said, only going as far as to read his body language and determine he wasn’t acting like himself. You hadn’t thought about whether it’d be the end of your friendship, that he’d stop talking to you every day, and everything the two of you were would just fade into the background.

Unbeknownst to you, your hands had started shaking, induced by the onslaught of thoughts swirling in your head, trembling by your sides as if in a deadly chill. Morgan, however, notices the tremors of your hands almost immediately and steps in front of you before dropping his bag and taking your hands into his.

“Hey, hey, angel girl, I need you to breathe with me, okay?” His voice is soft and soothing before he mirrors a deep breath, exaggerating the sound and movement of his chest to draw your attention.

In response, you nod your head before taking a shaky breath in unison with Derek’s strong ones. Something wet rolls down your face, a tear escaping your lash line that you hadn’t even felt forming. Your hands stay in Morgan’s as you take deep breaths together, the raggedness of yours drifting away with each new intake of oxygen.

Once Morgan has deemed your breathing to be stable enough, he drops one of your hands before lifting his, now free, hand to your face, thumbs scooping away your tears.

“You’re okay now, sweetheart. You’re okay,” he almost whispers, voice so soft and sweet it might make you start crying all over again as the previous guilt kicks in once more.

A sniffle comes from you while he walks you to the bed, hands still intertwined, which he uses to gently pull you into a sitting position next to him. His thumb caresses your knuckles, running over them in a soothing motion, soft skin on top of yours grounding you.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on with you now, sweetheart?”

“Are you gonna stop pretending that you don’t already know?” You quip, turning your head to the side to look at him.

“Y/N, I am telling you, I really don’t know. It’s been racking my brain all damn day. If I’ve done something wrong, you can tell me and I’ll fix it.”

Another quip is on the tip of your tongue, but as you look into his brown eyes, really look at them, you realise he’s being genuine. He doesn’t know what he’s done wrong. Oh god, you owe him the biggest apology.

“You really don’t know?”

“Not a damn clue.”

“God, I feel stupid. This is so dumb.”

“Hey,” he lifts your chin with his fingers, “nothing you say could ever be dumb to me, pretty girl.”

“I’ve had such a shitty day. Like a really, really shitty one where everything goes wrong and I just let it all get to me. And then you profiled me on the jet and I thought you knew, but you don’t know, and I’ve been so, so horri-“

“-Wait, hold on, stop. Know what, angel?”

“..that you won. I lost,” you bite your lip in anticipation, waiting to see the recognition in his face, but it doesn’t come.

“I like you, Derek,” it comes out so quiet and meek, it’d be a miracle if he even heard it, but of course he does.

His reaction isn’t what you were expecting at all, not in the slightest. Instead of some cocky smirk, or an ‘I told you so’, he’s smiling. Genuinely smiling, pearly whites out and all, looking at you like you’re the only thing ever. He laughs and shakes his head before caressing your cheek.

“Both of us won, sweetheart. I like you, too,” he confesses, still gazing into your eyes as if they’re full of everything he’s ever wanted. Morgan tilts his head to the side before asking, “Garcia really didn’t tell you?”

“No,” you shake your head as if to confirm it, and then his words fully register, “Wait, she knew?!”

Before Morgan’s had the chance to say anything back, your hands darted into your pockets, searching for your phone until you’re pulling it out of your pocket. Just as you’re about to call her, Derek’s grabbing at your phone, causing you to wave your arm around to stop him from getting it.

“Hey, no, stop. Don’t you dare. Not yet,” he laughs as he continues his mission to steal your phone from you.

“No, ‘m gonna call her. Would you stop that? Derek!” You manage between giggles.

With both of you moving around so much, he leans too far, body going towards the bed, and wraps an arm around your waist to bring you down with him. Both of you are laughing while fighting over the phone, a fight that you’re still very much winning. That is, until he starts tickling your sides causing your laughter to grow louder and your grip on the phone to grow looser.

The phone falls onto the bed above your head, and he doesn’t even try to grab it, he just resumes his ministrations in your poor sides, tickling away. At some point, he’d end up hovering over you, so when he stops tickling you, you just stare up at him while catching your breath.

Morgan brings one of his hands up to your face, pushing a rebellious strand of hair behind your ear, before caressing your cheek once more. Both of your arms come up, hands locking behind his neck, and the both of you are leaning towards each other. Slowly, he leans down, lips ghosting over yours.

“My pretty girl. It’s about time, huh?”

Without giving you the chance to answer, he captures your lips with his, moving them softly over yours in a sweet, slow kiss. You kiss him back with the same saccharinity, savouring the feeling of his kiss, hands moving from his neck to his cheeks instead.

Due to your previous shortage of breath following his tickling ministrations, the kiss ends sooner than you wanted it to with Morgan pulling away so that he didn’t suffocate you. A petulant pout forms on your lips, to which he just shakes his head.

“Impatient are we, sugar?” He teases, grinning down at you, eyes full of adoration for you.

You hit his chest softly, pathetically really, considering you’re trained in hand to hand combat but the intention was never to hurt him. It serves as a warning, followed by a verbal one, of course.

“You’re supposed to be nice to me, not be mean to me.”

“Oh, I’m not being nice because I want you to breathe? That’s some pretty good logic there, sugar.”

“You know, you haven’t actually asked me to be your girlfriend yet. I could find someone who’s nice to me, instead.”

“Don’t you even think about it, silly girl.”

When he sees the determination on your face he drops his head down a little bit and sighs, shaking his head in disbelief before he lifts it again to look at you.

“Do I really have to ask? That’s so high school.”

A scoff leaves your lips before you deliver another soft hit to his chest, seemingly shocked at his words.

“Yes! If you don’t ask, it’s not real. Did you even watch rom-coms?”

“Alright, alright. Baby girl, will you be my girlfriend?”

“I’ll have to think about that,” Morgan’s hands move to start tickling you again, prompting you to backtrack quickly.

“Morgan, no! Stop! I was kidding! Of course, I’ll be your girlfriend, now stop!”

A shrill shriek can be heard from somewhere in the room and you both jump up, bodies going into fight or flight. Morgan’s just about to reach for his gun in the holster when-

“FINALLY! OH MY GOD!”

Penelope’s voice comes from somewhere on the bed, loud and excited, but not loud enough to say she’s in the room with you both. Evidently, you remember faster than Morgan does because you pick up your phone from the bed to see that you had, in fact, called Penelope and she’d been on the line for 5 minutes. With a resigned sigh despite your smile, you and Derek just share a look that says; ‘Tomorrow’s going to be fun.’

taglist: @i-padfootblack-things (requester, ily), @floraisunwell (proofreader, ily!!), @darkmatilda

[pepi-nillo]

i just came home from watching barbie with my bff and i don't want to take off my pink outfit or my makeup

like i don't think anything will get even close to giving me the feelings i experienced today, so i don't want it to end

[tariah23]

They’re calling my baby Gojo, Joseph Joestar now

[damiansgoodgirll]

Hiiii!! I hope you’re doing amazing! I’m sorry you’re having a bit of writers block at the moment as I know how difficult that can be!! I saw you opened your requests to see if that would help so I figured I would request something!

Maybe Rhea x Reader, where Reader is also a wrestler and her aesthetic is super girly and cute and bubbly (kinda like Tiffany Stratton) and something about it just draws Rhea in. Like she tried to act like she hates it and doesn’t like Reader, but eventually she just can’t and caves to how adorable Reader is and it brings out Rhea’s sweet side! 🩷

rhea ripley x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

‼️nothing major, rhea’s sexual thoughts tho…a lot of fluff and sweet moments, reader being a tease (let’s pretend rhea is still champion here) ‼️

heartbeat

rhea hated when someone tried to take her title away. but she hated even more when you became her main opponent for a title run.

you and the dark haired woman were completely the opposite. you were a face, she was a heel. you wore pink, she wore black. you were kind and loved backstage, she was a menace with anyone who dared to even look into her eyes.

she hated the idea of having to fight with you. she already handled a liv morgan, a tiffany stratton and now she had to face you.

she absolutely despised having you as her main opponent and no matter how many times she tried to resonate with adam, he said that you deserved that title run more than anyone. and she knew it too. she observed you. you were good, you were smart, you worked more on psychological fights than physical fights and for the first time, rhea was afraid.

you and her never really talked outside of the company. she wasn’t in your group and you weren’t in hers.

so the first time you got to share a few words was when you two had a promo and even if rhea looked so intimidating, you were ready for a challenge and you showed her who you really were.

“so you think you can take my title?” she shouted into the mic, staring at you. she looked for something that could have scared you away but she find nothing.

you simply laughed, taking a few steps forward her “i’m damn sure i can” you stated making the crowd cheer.

she was ready to reply back. she was so ready to put you in place but having you so close to her made her freeze. your vanilla scent intoxicating her. your challenging eyes never leaving her face. something about you made her even more interested into this feud. you made her heart beat fast and she couldn’t understand why.

“cat got your tongue, mami?” you teased her, hearing even more chants from the crowd.

“stay out of my way” she said coldly before dropping the mic to the ground and leaving the ring.

as days passed, rhea moved cautiously around you. observing you at the gym, observing the way your body moved inside the ring as you trained. she couldn’t help the filthy thoughts running in her head when she saw the sweat dripping down your body.

watching you fight other opponents and she hated admitting it but she found you extremely attractive. she never imagined herself being attracted by some barbie doll prototype but here she was.

you, flaunting your pink gear, your perfect make up and curled hair, ready to fight liv morgan - once again.

you knew it was going to be an easy match. you fought liv multiple times and you always won but somehow it didn’t go exactly as you planned. sure, you got your win but liv managed to injury you.

rhea watched all the match behind the scenes and a lump form in her throat.

how the heck did liv manage to injury you? she was supposed to keep you safe inside the ring just like you did with her and instead she fucked up and probably costed you a title run.

she should be happy that you weren’t her opponent any longer but she was actually looking for a chance to fight you.

you struggled walking back, helped by some trainers, they let you sit comfortably in the medical area as a doctor checked upon on you.

sprained ankle.

a couple of weeks of no fighting, no training at the gym and no title run opportunity. this was definitely not what you were expecting.

as you slowly walked back to the locker room, you were stopped by the infamous rhea ripley.

“hey…” she greeted you, making you look at her with a confused expression.

“i’m out of your way now, are you happy?” you sarcastically asked her but you saw how serious she was.

“no, not really…i was really looking forward to fight you, can’t believe im stuck again with that mid morgan girl” she said, clearly mad.

her words made you laugh “it won’t be for too long, give me a month to recover and then i’ll happily pin you down the floor” you teased, seeing her blush.

her strong facade fell when you talked dirty to her. she felt her cheeks burn but she tried to keep up with you “i can’t wait for that moment to come then…”

you were absolutely in for whatever rhea was trying to do with you “challenge accepted then, see you in a month” you winked but as soon as you tried to walk again, a sharp pain rang through your foot, making you flinch a little.

“hey, you okay?” rhea immediately asked when she saw the pain expression in your eyes.

“i have to get used to walk with just one foot” you laughed.

“here, let me help you…” her hand softly moved around your hip, helping you back to the locker room so you could gather your belongings and then go straight to the hotel. she walked slowly, never forcing you or your body.

“i didn’t know rhea was a kind one” you joked, making her laugh.

“i’m not. i never liked you y/n…this bubbly energetic person you are, i always hated it…too much pink, too much kindness” she whispered.

“why is it in the past?”

“because somehow your annoying personality caught my attention” she confessed, making you look at her with a teasing face.

“that’s good to keep in mind next time i’m facing you in the ring…” you said making her roll her eyes.

once you got to the locker room, rhea packed all of your stuff. your make up, your clothes, your perfume - the vanilla perfume - and she took the bag over her shoulder.

“do you need a ride to the hotel?” she offered and you couldn’t turn her offer down so you agreed.

as you were settled in her car, you found her to be a comforting presence. maybe she really wasn’t the mean one everyone talked about.

before you could speak, metal songs blasted through the speakers and it took you a couple of minutes to realise that you and rhea couldn’t be more different “do you really listen to that?” you asked, a little confused.

“yeah…it’s amazing” she happily said as she drove.

“it’s giving me a headache” you complained, making her roll her eyes for the second time that night.

“what do you listen uh? let me guess? taylor swift?” she said almost too annoyed.

“hey! she’s a good artist! and no, i listen other people too! i listen to people who actually make music and not scream into a microphone for three minutes straight” oh you were so in for a tease right now and seeing how she scrunched her nose made you feel like you were hitting the right buttons.

“let’s not start or i’ll drop you here in the middle of the road” she joked, clearly amused by the whole situation. you ended up sitting there and watching her driving fast around town.

she helped you with the bags and only left your hotel room once she made sure that you were okay. she even left you her phone number so you could call her in case something happened - as she said.

a week has passed and you couldn’t even lie to yourself - you were actually enjoying texting rhea and having random conversations in the middle of the night with her. you remember texting her once you got home and asked her if she wanted to come over as you were bored and reluctantly she accepted.

she would be lying to herself but you attracted her. you were like a magnet and she couldn’t get enough of you. she would help you any time you asked her.

randomly going through your tiktok, you heard the bell ringing and without thinking twice, you slowly got up and opened the door, finding an adorable rhea ripley with junk food in one hand and a pink fluffy blanket in the other.

you looked at her for a second, too stunned to speak.

“you letting me in or are we going to stare at each other all day long?” she asked, her usual sarcastic tone lingering with some sneaky jokes too.

“oh sorry, yeah, come in…i wasn’t expecting you with food and a pink blanket…i actually wasn’t expecting you at all” you joked, trying to ease the tension a little bit because you had no idea why was rhea in your living room now.

“i was at the supermarket and i had my day off, i saw the blanket and i thought you would like it…here” she handed you the blanket almost as she was annoyed by it, trying to maintain her dark and mean side but deep down you knew that she was a softie.

you gladly accepted the gift and invited her to sit on the couch with you “what about the food?” you teased her, seeing her rolling her eyes at any remark you made was now a habit.

“i was hungry and i thought you would like some food too…” she tried so hard not to go soft with you but your smile and bubbly personality were making it hard for her.

“rhea ripley thought of me? i feel honoured” you laughed making her giggle.

“shut up and eat while i pick a movie…” she stated as she started swiping movies catalogue on netflix.

she chose something fun, something romantic, knowing that it was your favourite genre of film.

“i’m pretty sure you’re studying me so in two weeks you know how to make me lose against you for the title run” you joked, making her laugh.

“honey, there’s no way you’re gonna beat my ass during that run, that’s my title and my title only but i’ll happily pin you down” she turned her face to you, a sneaky smirk on her face as her mind fantasised about the idea of having to pin you down, under her body.

“you so sure about that ripley?” you tested her “what if i am the one to pin you down?

rhea wouldn’t mind having you over her to be honest. in any other situation she would have let you being in charge but not when there was her title on the line.

“we will see in a couple of weeks” she winked “now watch the movie before i put some freaky horror on” she teased you knowing how much you hated horror movies.

“okay mami” you whispered making her roll her eyes - again. you displayed the pink blanket over your body and over rhea’s body too “before you say anything, it’s cold outside and i don’t wanna hear you complain for the next two hours” but rhea definitely wasn’t going to complain. she never had you so close, your body was like a magnet and was so close to hers that it was enough to keep her warm. your head softly laid over her shoulder and even if you couldn’t see her, you felt her body relax against you.

maybe she was going to pin you in the ring but you knew who was really in charge outside of the company and seeing her so calm and relaxed in your presence made you feel something different about your friendship, as if there was something more but you couldn’t really point it out.

spending the rest of the night in each other’s company, joking and laughing about the smallest things.

as the second movie of the night ended, you really needed to stretch yourself out as you grew a little uncomfortable sitting for almost four hours in the same position. she helped you standing up and you slowly tested the water, instead of putting your hands around her shoulders as you always did, you put them around her waist.

the height difference between you two was pretty obvious but that didn’t stop you to have your way with her “i have a feeling you feel something for me” you teased her watching her in her eyes.

“i don’t know what you are talking about…” she tried so hard to maintain her composure but she was struggling, especially when she had you so close.

“so what if i asked you to kiss me? would you back up?” you always been a tease but this was something else even for you.

“no…” she whispered, her eyes softly looking down at you.

before she could make any move, you kissed her. your lips meeting her soft ones, a smile pressed on her face as you kept kissing her “i’m definitely gonna pin you rhea” you whispered, making her chuckle.

“keep dreaming barbie” as she grew more comfortable, her hand moved behind your back and pressed you against her body “remember, it’s always monday night mami…” her devious look was back as if you helped her gain her confidence back around you.

“you know…i’m always in for a challenge…”

yeah, maybe she was the rhea ripley but you knew how good you were and being able to tease her and make her so flustered around you was definitely a weapon in your sleeve.

“we will see pretty girl…” falling in love with the enemy wasn’t definitely her plan but somehow you managed to make her heart beat faster anytime you were close and now she felt like she couldn’t get enough of you.

————————————-

i’m receiving a few requests and i’m trying to overcome my writer block 🤞🏼🩷 thank you for your patience and kind words 🩷🩷

[infictionalwonderland]

The BAU team meeting Hotch’s younger gf who looks like she walked off the front cover of a magazine & she’s so bubbly and has a really comforting energy! How would they react????

The satisfying little clicks of heels against the marble floor wasn’t enough to gain any of their attention usually, but accompanied by the delicately enchanting chimes of true laughter and sweet smell of baked goods—eyes were immediately lifting to investigate to the scene.

“Thank you so much!” An incredibly sweet, honeyed voice gushed genuinely, “here, all of these are meant for my boyfriend but I’m sure he won’t even notice.”

The team traded immensely interested looks as they surveyed the scene, Anderson (who was uncharacteristically blushing a bright flustered cherry red) was being handed a chocolate chip muffin by—wow—a startlingly gorgeous young women who was dressed in inviting soft colours and had a large sweet smile on her face that served to emphasise her lovely appearance.

“My day just got a hundred times better.” Derek grinned, swivelling his chair sideways to speak to the rest of his team while barely taking his eyes off you.

“You’re telling me.” Emily’s mouth hung open a little as she leaned forwards on her elbows to look at you more closely.

“Behave.” JJ scolded before her brief look of reprimand melted under Emily’s pointed stare, “she’s looks so sweet I just wanna eat her.”

“She has a boyfriend.” Spencer reminded them.

“What—?”

“Pretty boy—you and—“

“Oh��oh, no!” Spencer flustered, sputtering out the gulp of his coffee he had in his mouth (JJ handed him a napkin with a mothers readiness). “Not—I would be absolutely honoured—and—and, for lack of a sensical phrase, over the moon, to have a romantic relationship with a woman such as her but—no, unfortunately. She—she said a few moments ago that has a boyfriend.”

“Ah.” Emily blinked, a slow almost sheepish smirk on his lips, “I wasn’t really listening to what she was saying, just watching her lips move.”

“Preach sister.” Derek leaned forward for a fist-bump which Emily easily gave, both of them nodding in solidarity.

“Hello!” They all startled heavily as your gentle, happy voice chimed now much closer to them and mouths dropped subtly at just how beautiful you looked up close.

“Well hello sweetheart.”

“H-hi.”

“Hi gorgeous.”

“Hello!”

You blinked at them, an adorable giggle leaving you at the onslaught of greetings that came all at once. “Hi! You wouldn’t happen to know where Aaron Hotchner’s office is would you?”

“Hotch?” Emily furrowed her brows at you curiously and then seemed to forgot about, well, any of anything she was thinking as your bubbly smile and sparkling eyes turned her way and you gave a cheerful ‘yep!’ “Um—just, up those stairs, the first door at the top.”

“Thank you very much.” You told her, voice as sweet as the packet of fizzy haribos hidden in her desk. “It was lovely meeting you all, we’ll probably be better acquainted later on.”

With a sparkly mischievous twinkle in your bright eyes and another adorable giggle, you took off in a small spin that sent the enchanting mix of your perfume and the baked goods wafting over to all of them and they all watched, entranced, as you climbed the steps to their boss’ office.

After several seconds of dazed silence, Spencer gasped.

“Boyfriend—“

“Yeah I wouldn’t mind being her boyfriend either.” Derek murmured. “At all—really, no sweat off my back.”

“Hotch.”

JJ’s mouth dropped open as she realised where Spencer was going with his train of thought, rolling back in her chair as they pointed at him in realisation.

“Oh my God!”

“Hotch—hotch, is her boyfriend..?” Spencer sounded extremely confused, mouth falling open and closing repeatedly.

“Huh?”

“Reid, you are having a giggle.”

“No, he’s right.” JJ confirmed, mouth open and eyebrows raised. “She said she was here to see her boyfriend and she’s gone to see Hotch. . 2 plus 2 equals. .”

“. . An incredibly brokenhearted Derek Morgan.” Derek’s own mouth dropped open, craning his neck to see what was going on in the office of his boss before realising that Hotch had shut the blinds. Derek gasped, that sneak.

“And a flummoxed Emily Prentiss.”

“But she’s so—“

“Yeah.”

“And he’s like—“

“Literally!”

“Well, the last few months Hotch has been incredibly more relaxed, in fact his percentage of smiles given has gone up from a measly 30% to almost 84%, his laugh quota has reached high yet levels than I’ve ever known it to be. I had also noted that every Thursday he never goes home as late as he usually retires for the day and with this new revelation of a relationship—I assume this correlates to their date nights.”

“It does.”

Everyone turned in their chairs quickly to face their boss who now stood outside his office a faintly amused smile curving up his lips, at his side was you and you were wearing an amused and loving smile, eyes practically sparkling after Spencer’s speech on your boyfriend’s behaviour as they flickered up to said boyfriend beside you who looked down at you with soft, fond eyes.

“So you figured out my secret.” You grinned at them all, taking in Spencer’s red cheeks and Emily’s flabbergasted, dazed stare. “I’m Y/N, Aaron’s girlfriend!”

“Doesn’t that just crush a man’s hopes and dreams.” Derek pouted quietly to himself, straightening up in alarm when his boss’ intense eyes zeroed in on him.

“Honey, this is JJ—“ The blonde gave a warm, welcoming smile and a wave, “Spencer,” said genius gave a tight lipped awkward smile, hands flailing awkwardly and cheeks a burning fiery red, feeling this pulse thump when they smiled back directly at him, “Emily and Derek.” Both of the aforementioned gave waves with half flirty-ish smirks and half genuine smiles.

The door to Rossi’s office opened and when he stepped out and saw you beside Aaron he smiled happily, walking towards you both.

“Ah, Y/N!” He took you into an embrace, kissing both of your cheeks. “You get more beautiful every time I see you, is this big brute treating you right?”

“Always, Dave.”

He patted you on the shoulders, smiling, before turning to Aaron who was rolling his eyes at him fondly.

“Let’s keep it that way.”

“Rossi!” Emily’s astounded voice exclaimed, “you—know Y/N—you knew about this—“

It was Dave’s turn to roll his eyes as he continued walking to descend down the stairs, tutting at her disappointedly.

“You thought I wouldn’t?” He countered, “who do you think encouraged him to go for it?”

You laughed at that and your boyfriend smiled down at you fondly, looping an arm around your waist—seemingly forgetting he was in his place of work and needed to keep up the facade of stone cold, emotionless boss.

“What—Rossi—get back here—“ Derek leaped up from his seat and trailed after the older man.

“What, you gonna come watch me take a leak?”

“If it means we get some answers!”

“Shoo parassita.”

All you could do was laugh again, smiling up at your boyfriend as his arm tightened around your waist and he pulled you closer into his side. You were very happy with your decision to come and deliver baked goods to him.

[star-sim]

"is your girlfriend single?" ☆ enha hyungs

☆ youtuber! non-idol! bf! enhypen hyung line x fem! reader ☆ summary: when your youtuber boyfriend finally shows you for the first time to his audience. ☆ genre: fluff, jealous and whipped boys... kinda dumb lol ☆ warning(s)? no! just fluff!! and attempts at humor :( ☆ reblogs and comments are appreciated :D also not proofread lol

maknae ver.

heeseung ☆

i like to think that hee would be a gaming youtuber

posts maybe like once or twice a week, has about 3 million subs

he sometimes likes to stream, just to get to know his fanbase better and to just hang out

normally he texts you to let you know abt it, but today he totally forgot

you came home from work and you saw his office door closed + heard the sound of his loud ass keyboard clicking.... my guy beats that shit UP atp

that was normal tbh

you were probably like "my little keyboard warrior ❤️" and went to go wash up in your shared bathroom and bedroom

you were going to just pop into his office, say hi and maybe give him a kiss

meanwhile... heeseung is taking a break from gaming, just talking to the chat

he definitely didn't notice you coming home... probably bc of that bigass head set that's creating a fucking valley in his skull... (btw have u seen those videos where gamers take off their headphones and they have a dent on their head 😭)

anyways you open the door, ready to say hi, but heeseung is visibly surprised, looking like a deer in headlights

you look at him, then at the back of his monitor, then back at him, then at his monitor

"should i come back another time...?"

hee's already taking off his headphones, leaning back into his gaming chair--

"no no no!" he grins, glancing at the chat, which is now blowing up

"who is that?"

"yooooo"

"HEESEUNG IS THAT YOUR GIRLFRIEND?"

"gf reveal?"

"she sounds so pretty"

heeseung pats his lap, "cmere, baby, i wanna introduce you to the stream"

of course you comply <3

you take a seat on his lap, his arms slithering around your waist

it takes you a moment to take in what's on his screen: obv there's your reflections, then the chat boxes and announcement pop-ups

the way that the blue-purple light of his screen reflects onto your skin, casting a glassy gleam over your eyes-- and the way that your pretty eyes look at the monitor so curiously, lips parted ever-so-slightly-- made you look SO beautiful

heeseung himself has to angle his head in a way so that he could see your face properly.... and a soft grin unknowingly began to spread over his lips

he presses a soft kiss to the crook behind your ear, before looking back up at the stream

"hey guys," there's a clear smile in his voice, "this is my girlfriend, [name]."

you take that as your queue to introduce yourself

honestly, you're a little shy and softer-spoken now, bc you're not in front of a camera nearly as often as your boyfriend is, "hi.. i'm [name], and... uhm..." you give the webcam a clumsy, awkward (but very cute) smile, "i'm hee's girlfriend"

the chat blows up immediately

"SHE'S SO CUTE"

"i've never seen heeseung look so soft"

"[name] you're so pretty :)"

"this might actually be one of the most beautiful women i've ever seen im not joking guys"

"chat is she real... bc why is she actually GLOWING oh my lord🧎🧎🧎"

those comments make you a lil shy and bashful, and you feel your cheeks kinda warm

you just giggle reading them, unable to contain your smile

heeseung, on the other hand, is feeling prideful

"that's right, guys," he squeezes your waist, puffing his chest out, "my girlfriend is so beautiful" "i know i'm so lucky to have such a wonderful woman as my girlfriend"

he's overjoyed by all the compliments you're getting... it makes him so happy that he can show you off and that everyone gets to see that YOURE his gf

in fact, he's reading a lot of them aloud, and following it up with "i agree with you"

like he'll read "'[name] is absolutely stunning, like wow..." and heeseung nods and is like "i agree with you, xXdragontittysucker23Xx 🤓☝️"

but then a comment stops him in his tracks...

"heeseung is your girlfriend single by any chance?"

his face drops immediately

"hey... who in the chat asked if [name] is single?!"

he's actually offended, putting a dramatic hand on his chest and scoffing

"how rude!" heeseung pouts against your shoulder when even more of his viewers begin saying similar things

"[name] are you free this weekend"

"hi [name] (i'm 6'2 and drive a lamborghini and save orphans every weekend)"

"heeseung get out i'm trying to have a moment with your girlfriend"

you're actually such a cutie, becuase you're just giggling as more and more comments come trying to rizz you up

"what do you have to say for yourself?" heeseung asks you half-sulkily and half-defensive, pushing his face into your neck and pouting

your eyes glimmer with a little mischief, wanting to tease your boyfriend a little bit

"i mean... " you pretend to think

and then someone named jungkooksleftpinkytoe562 says in chat "please [name] i'll rock your world so hard just one chance"

you laugh

"jungkooksleftpinkytoe562, i'm free tomorrow at 5, you should take me out on a date" and you wink playfully and laugh again

chat blows up like

"WOAHHHH"

"AYOOO????"

but if there's anyone that's scandalized, it's heeseung lee himself

"HEY! HEY! WHAT?!!?!" he's squinting and scrolling so fast in the chat to find jungkooksleftpinkytoe562 that you can hear the scroll-wheel oh my god

"you guys better back off," heeseung says, pulling you even closer. he presses a kiss against your shoulder, then gently clutching your face to kiss your chin, "she's mine!"

heeseung's eyes narrow, "especially you, jungkooksleftpinkytoe562..." your bf gives you a quick peck on the lips, "i'll kick your ass if i see you flirting w my girlfriend again >:("

im gonna be fr... none of his viewers care

in fact they keep flirting with you

and the fact that you keep playfully flirting back adds fuel to heeseung's flames

but he'd never blame you <3

he's pouty after the stream lol (but he knows it's all in good fun) so kiss his cute lil pouty lips

i think this definitely goes viral on twitter

like #[name] or #heesgf trends for a good 48 hours

jay ☆

my guy is a cooking channel

i think jay would try to be more private abt his personal life to his viewers, just given the nature of his content

though, it's no secret that jay has a s/o to his viewers, and i think they'd know your name

but yk how at the end of cooking videos, after the chef cooks, they try the food...

i think in a few of his videos, there's clips of you and him trying his food, but while jay is usually in-frame, you're either behind the camera or just barely in the frame so that most people have really only heard your voice and seen your hands

the comments are usually tame, like

"[name]'s voice is so pretty!"

"i want someone to look at me the way jay looks at [name]"

"my parents!"

but one day

for one of his subscriber milestone specials

let's say 2million subscriber special

jay does a cooking challenge

it's "cooking a meal but BLINDFOLDED"

he starts the video explaining the parameters of the challenge and what he's doing, etc

but then he reveals that you're behind the camera to supervise him

obv bc he's in a kitchen with ovens and knives and he's blindfolded...

throughout the video, you kind of just guide your bf

"omg jay move your hand or you'll cut your fingers off!"

"turn on the stove-- no the other way!!"

at some point, jay is cutting up onions

and normally he's a pro at it, and you never question his abilities

but because he can't see and he's using the knife so quickly, you're freaked out like "babe!!!!!! that doesn't seem safe!!! 😰😰😰"

so then behind the camera, you're heard fussing about it and it's cute lol

then you take it upon yourself to help him

you go behind him, slithering your arms around him so that your hands were places on his

you guide his hands to cut the onions slowly

"babe, i got this," jay says, but tbh he's not complaining because he gets to be close to you :D

"nonono i don't want you to die!!" you say, and it seems like you're more concentrated on cutting the onions than him

this is the first time that your face is in-frame for one of his videos lol

when you're done, jay tries to kiss your head, but he can't find you so you raise yourself on your tippy toes for him

its a quick peck but you giggle and place a kiss behind his ear

when he's done cooking his little dish, it's time to garnish and decorate it with sauce

jay's plan is to use the sauce to write "happy 2 million subscribers" on the dish

but because he's blindfolded, the writing is so fucked up

it's completely unintelligable and just a glob of sauce 😭

and then he tries to draw a dick on it but it's also super fucked 😭😭😭😭

when you see this, you burst out laughing so hard

and this makes jay laugh too

anyways the video goes up, it's very cute and well-received

now.... the youtube comments are still tame

"[name]'s laugh is so cute!"

"i screamed when she popped into frame... she's gorg"

"the way that [name] looks at jay when he's blindfolded is everything"

"[name] looks so beautiful"

but uh

it gets crazy on twitter

as it always does

"jesus fucking christ if a woman like that wrapped her arms around me and kissed me i would fall to my knees and die happily"

"jay CANNOT handle allat.... but i can!!!! me next!!"

"god... when is it my turn to have a pretty woman kiss me"

"[name] i'll treat you so well PLEASE"

i think the clip of you helping jay cut the onions kinda goes viral, just because you look so attractive doing it

like the way you popped into frame as you rolled up your sleeves and the way you smirked at jay's inability to see... ZOOWEE MAMA!!!!!

and i think this eventually makes its way onto tiktok

like pretty standard videos of ppl being like "JAY'S GIRLFRIEND HELLO???" with comments like "she's so beautiful," etc

jay honestly thinks its funny

he knows that people are joking and he sometimes actually plays along with them

he loves that people are appreciating your beauty (but he loves even more that he's the only one that actually gets you)

when you first go viral, you're kinda shy about it, but jay just pulls you close, kisses your cheek, squishing them, and says "my baby is so beautiful"

youre like "jayyyyyy stoopppp"

he only chuckles and starts to pepper your face with more kisses, despite your lil whines for him to stop

but then while you two are cuddling one night, you laying on his chest with your face in his neck

a tiktok appears on his fyp

its just some teenager being like "hi does anyone know if jay's girlfriend is single?" while showing off a black BMW in the background... and then jay's directly tagged in it

he takes this as his opportunity to strike back

he stitches that tiktok, and makes his own tiktok in response

it's just a really short video where jay shows you all snuggled up against him completely silent before he just says "No, she is not single. 😐."

the caption's like "i'm taking [name] out on a date tomorrow shhh don't tell her"

everyone thinks it's really sweet tbh

jake ☆

truthfully i think jake would be into youtube commentary

something like danny gonzalez or jarvis johnson

he looks at troom troom videos and makes fun of them lowk 😭

speaking of, troom troom or troom troom - adjacent content usually has crazy ass lifehacks

so for one of his videos jake is testing out troom troom life hacks

and for one of them, he has to drill a hole in a skateboard or something and put pasta noodles in it idk i'm pulling this out of my ass but its not surprising if this is a legitimate troom troom life hack

unlike heeseung and jay, jake's viewerbase doesn't rlly know about you

again, given the nature of his content, jake never rlly found it necessary to mention his personal relationships

anyways jake is in the middle of your living room floor drilling a hole into a skateboard and putting spaghettie in it when you come home from work and see that shit

jake is in the middle of talking to the camera but the moment the door cracks open he trails off

he gives you that smile-- the one that a puppy gives when their owner catches them doing something they shouldnt aw

when you take in the sight before you, you let out a laugh, not noticing the camera rolling

you place your things down and slink toward your boyfriend

"what's going on here, jakey?" you ask him with a cocked brow, loving the way he chuckles nervously

you crouch down beside him, poking the skateboard-spaghetti abomination with your foot

"i'm testing out troom troom life hacks" he sounds defeated lol

anyways you give him a kiss on his cheek and leave him to his own devices

in the final video, your little interruption is only like 15 seconds bc jake cut it down-- but he def keeps the part where you kiss him

HOWEVER.

because jake's audience didn't know he had a girlfriend

they were all like WOAH WHO IS THAT GORGEOUS WOMAN

a few of his fans look at who he's following on instagram, and they find your account

your ig is public, but it's definitely small and personal

they find pictures of you and jake doing cute couple things, a lot of mirror selfies, matching costumes, and cute pictures that you take of jake

but...

they also find your own personal pictures

ones of you in a bikini at the beach, ones of you with the golden sun on your face, ones showing off your outfit and hair, ones of you in the morning, ones of you being a baddie

and lets not mention jake in the ig comment sections hyping you up like a teenage boy like "YOURE SO HOT [NAME] 🔥🔥🔥🔥"

jake and you see all the comments and tweets about you

so jake decides to take it upon himself to clarify everything

he posts a picture on instagram of you and him with the caption "yes, that's my girlfriend"

safe to say that it becomes his top post LMAOAAO

his ig comments are flooded with support

"you guys are so cute"

"i'm glad to see jake have someone that he loves"

etc

YOUR ig comment section on the other hand?

flooded with support

and thirst

HELP

his fans are respectful but they REALLY love to compliment you

"woahhh you look so good in this one!"

"gorgeous 😍"

"[name] will you marry me?"

but i do think a few are outright insane omg

"[name] you're my sunshine in the ran, the tylenol when i'm in pain, when it's burning hot on summer days you're exactly what i need"

i think they pull out poetic shit omg

like shit like

"the memory of you is a tapestry I had decided to wrap myself in until it suffocated me, to such extent that in the morning, people will not find my body, but a new silhouette woven within its threads"

"there is a city in my heart where you are its only population"

"if i could remake universe, i would replace you as the moon amongst the stars after your time, so i may gaze upon you every night"

jake is NEVER escaping

you appreciate the hype

but jakey?

he loves that you're being appreciate but YOU'RE HIS

WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE AND WHY DO THEY THINK THEY HAVE A CHANCE W U

"jakey they're just being nice"

"no they're trying to STEAL YOU"

like a day later he posts a picture of you on his instagram with the caption "she's mine btw"

his comments DO NOT CARE 😭😭😭

when someone comments

"jake is your gf single and can i take her out on a date"

jake straight up responds

"NO."

what a cutie

sunghoon ☆

i actually don't think sunghoon would be a YOUTUBER youtuber

instead i think he'd be a famous ice skater, but he has YOUTUBE interviews and is active on social media

definitely the type of athlete that's very personable

like sunghoon is def in touch with his fanbase and interacts with them on twt and stuff

his fanbase knows that he has a gf, but that's basically the limit

anyways sunghoon is doing one of those "WIRED answered the web's most searched questions"

you're actually in the studio with him during the interview, kinda there for support

the questions are tame like

"sunghoon park height" "sunghoon park winter olympics 2018" "where was sunghoon park born" etc

sunghoon's killing it

until one of the last questions on the board is "does sunghoon park have a girlfriend?"

he immediately lights up

"i do have a girlfriend!" he says, looking off-set at you, "her name's [name] and she's the most beautiful woman i've ever met"

you chuckle quietly at his comment, flashing him a pretty smile

sunghoon continues- "she's actually here with me today" and he points to you, making the cameraman pan over to you, who is sitting off the set

you just give the camera a thumbs up

you thought that would be the end, but sunghoon asks, "baby, do you want to do this interview with me?"

ofc you agree

he makes u sit on his lap lol even when the camera crew is bringing another chair for you

instead of answer more questions sunghoon just talks about your relationship the entire time

he's giving an entire history lecture about your relationship

you don't say much, but you listen to him intently

when this interview goes up

a lot of his fans make edits of it

sunghoon is already known as a quiet typa guy, but when he talks for like 2 minutes straight about your relationship everyones like "oh god this guy really likes his girlfriend 😭"

in fact

the official interview cuts down sunghoon's tangent about you to 2 minutes, when the original clip was actually 10 minutes

i like to believe that WIRED released an uncut version of his tangent 😭

his fans make short edit videos like "sunghoon being whipped for [name]" or "sunghoon really likes his gf"

i think his fans also make edits of YOU

even though you're honestly in a very short clip of his interview

the way you look at him and listen so intently is SO GOOD

like you were definitely giving him 'the look' as he talked abt your relationship yk?

that once-over, maybe a little lip bite, MMMMM SO GOOD

now....

ik i said that heeseung was the keyboard warrior but like... i think sunghoon is the real one

he's out here fighting BATTLES with his keyboard oml

when stan twitter sees this.... sunghoon starts to fight them

there's tweets like

"the more i listen to sunghoon talk about his gf i more i feel like i'm falling for her"

"the woman that you are, [name]..."

"when she looks at the camera i feel shy"

"omg SHE WANTS ME"

sunghoon gets petty OH MY GOD

he responds to all the tweets about you

like

"she does not want you 😐." "you have no chance with her. 😐." "too bad she's mine 😇"

it's def in a playful joking way and it's really funny, but sunghoon is out here defending your honor

i think at some point sunghoon stops responding with words and just begins responding with pictures

someone tweets "sunghoon is your gf single"

and he straight up just responds with a picture of him staring blankly at the camera

LIKE HE'S DRILLING HOLES THROUGH THE CAMERA WITH HIS EYES

an absolute cutie if i do say so myself

on valentines day he posts a picture of him holding your hand to be extra petty lol

maknae ver.

[shiimmer]

cherry kiss

sevika x f!stripper!reader

warnings! pole dancing (if that can be taken as a warning), public sex(??), fingering, orgasm denial, pussy slapping, slight choking, cunnilingus, masturbating, hair pulling, dom!sevika, sub!reader, sevika is a bit mean but we love it, she gets called ma’am once

men and minors dni!!

no mentions of y/n, but reader is called by her stage name cherry

word count: 3.4k words (i got a little too passionate…)

ৎ୭ summary: sevika found herself in a strip club, only to end up getting a lot more than a simple lap dance.

note: wrote smut for the first time in years, and idk how to feel. excuse me if this is absolutely shit, i was sleep deprived every time i was writing this. sorry for any errors, english isn’t my first language. not proofread!!

it isn’t exactly the place sevika usually finds herself in. strip clubs are not her thing. she prefers action over mere watching, but today just wasn’t it. not even a good lay in babette’s brothel can save her sour mood, which is more than surprising even for her. she doesn’t even know why she’s here. she just needs a distraction, and she knows the quietness of her place would only deepen her stress, which is something she really does not want right now, no matter how well she can handle it.

so here she is, in a strip club, surrounded by cheap smelling perfume, neon signs casting some light around the dimly lit place. boasting laughter, cheers and all sorts of other noises she’d rather block out from men around her fill her ears as they watch women dancing on the stage and sway around the pole. sevika, however, is completely silent. almost eerily so.

she just watches. glares, more like as she sits in the booth, awaiting another stripper nicknamed cherry, as the announcer says. ‘silly choice of a name,’ she thinks. her leg bounces under the table, swirling the whisky she just took a sip of on her tongue as the curtain spreads open, revealing you, and her body goes still. it’s like a spell, and sevika isn’t quite sure what has her so mesmerized the second you appear on that long, runway-like stage, neon lights shining on your almost naked body, the way they enhance the confident aura you give out. her grey eyes are focused solely on you, almost as if she’s judging your every movement. from the sway of your hips, to the subtle bounce of your breasts in that skimpy red bra as you stride toward the pole and your fingers wrap around the metal one by one.

a low hum rumbles in the back of her throat, a mixture of curiosity and appreciation while watching you perform. you clearly know what you’re doing, that sevika can see, and it works. even on her. she’d rather die than admit it out loud to anyone, but you have your charm to you and she likes it.

it’s like she’s not even blinking, at least that’s how it feels to you. you notice the woman’s gaze the second you approach the pole, and how it never moves away, not even when she takes a sip of her whisky. your coworkers shared their experience whenever they left the stage, saying how sevika’s glare caused them to nearly mess up their performance. in all honesty, it had made you nervous yourself while you waited for your own turn. dancing before a woman of such power, it’s nothing like dancing for all those nobodies who salivate over a sliver of skin shown. but as you had taken a first step on that stage, with your gaze immediately falling on her, all of that vanishes into something else, something you just can’t explain with words.

you give it your all, making sure to give her the show she never forgets and possibly needs, based on the worn out look she wears on her face. your body moves to the rhythm of the same song you always have to dance to. the song you’re normally so sick of, now gives you a rush. you dance with newfound passion, happy to show off your skills and body to silco’s number two. you play with her, yet you give her the most of you. fingertips lingering on your skin a second longer as you caress your body, from your hips to your breasts. looking over your shoulder when you’re turned towards the pole, the corners of your lips twitching up when you bend forward, showing off your thong-clad rear. it’s all for her, and you are absolutely enjoying the attention.

the endless cheering and lewd comments from men are fully blocked in your mind, your goal as clear as piltover’s sky. you want to make this woman watch you until the very end, to have her gaze on you and you only.

and oh, does it work. sevika’s gaze does not move away from you even when your performance ends and you go back backstage, and you’re certain her eyes are focused on your thighs as you walk. the euphoria you feel after this dance was nothing you’ve ever experienced. for the first time since working here, you’re almost disappointed that you had to leave the stage. your theme song that usually drags on suddenly felt short. you want to give her more of you, all of you.

you sulk in your seat, fixing up your neatly done makeup. there isn’t any need to fix it, you just want to get your mind off of the woman, but it’s completely useless. her grey eyes pollute your brain, and you can still see them when you close your eyes. never in your life were you this desperate for someone, it’s almost embarrassing. you sigh and put the makeup brush done, pursing your lips together. you wonder if you’ll see her again, if you’ll get to dance for her just like you had just a moment ago. you would give her more than just a plain dance show, so much more.

your thoughts get abruptly interrupted by your boss, her voice loud and demanding as she calls out to you. all you can do is hold back an eye roll and get up from the chair, making her way over to her with a look that can only be described as ‘i don’t get paid enough for this.’

“you’re expected in the vip salon,” she bites, her wrinkles crinkling under that heavy layer of makeup. “it’s a very important guest. don’t fuck it up.”

she taps your chest with her point finger, long nail stabbing your skin, and leaves the backstage. you watch her arrogant stomp, scoffing under your breath as soon as she’s far enough from you to not hear it. she calls every guest important, even the scummiest man in zaun is a ‘special guest.’ you know why she says it, she wants you to do your best, to not embarrass her brand, but it quickly gets annoying than encouraging.

your heels thump against the floor as you walk slowly to the salon, your mind running at full speed. you can only hope it’s sevika, but a part of you doubts it. there is no way she liked your performance so much she’d pay for private dance, right?

oh, how wrong you were.

the second you open the fluffy curtain, you’re met with those same steel eyes, belonging to none other than sevika. you eye her up and down, taking in the way she sits on the couch, her muscular thighs spread open and her exposed arm thrown over the backrest. you linger on the bare part of her lower stomach, abs peeking out of the crop top and v-line disappearing under the waistband of her pants. it’s a downright sinful sight, almost picture worthy.

“i didn’t pay for you to just stand there, did i?” her deep voice catches you off guard, and your eyes travel back up to her face. she’s smirking at you, fully aware of your gawking.

you can only pray to janna to survive this dance, secluded in a small room with this dangerously sexy woman.

“right. sorry,” you give her a small apologetic grin while walking to the small music box in the corner to tune in a song.

your hands are shaking a little, but it’s hardly nervousness. it’s excitement, anticipation, maybe even a hint of arousal. your blood is running hot, and you can feel a kick of energy, as if dosed on shimmer. none of your customers made you feel this way, but her.

your hands are already wrapped around the silver pole with your back facing her, ready to move to the music until her voice echoed in your ears.

“come here.”

your whole body stiffens, the music blocked out in your mind. being a stripper for years, never had you actually danced in front of a client. it’s sort of a rule for you; just watch but no touch, but when it comes to sevika, you are more than ready to forget it all just to please her. you pull yourself away from the pole and walk up to her, hands running over your sides. her eyes never leave your face and, by the gods, shivers run down your spine in waves, running all the way between your legs.

three more steps, and you finally stand between her spread thighs, and only now that you stand so close you notice just how damn thick they are. she looked better up close, no art or photo of her could do her justice, that you are sure of. a smirk makes its way on sevika’s lips as she watches your hips sway, your fingertips tap and stroke your skin. she is so into it, her hand is practically itching to just grab you by the waist and drag you down on her thigh.

it’s as if your minds link for a moment, because your smaller hand finds hers, guiding it to your stomach. sevika doesn’t react, at least not visibly, though you can’t say that about yourself. the second her rough, calloused palm runs over your abdomen to your hip, your body reacts on its own, almost like it isn’t even connected to your brain. she pulls you down on her leg, chuckling under her breath as your breath hitches. she has you where she wants you, and you can only comply to her every wish.

“babette’s is a few blocks away, y’know?” you mutter breathlessly, and you can only curse yourself out for how affected you are by her mere presence. it’s embarrassing, humiliating even, but you are oh so close to not give a single fuck. “someone can catch us here.”

sevika chuckles once more, liking your slightly mouthy attitude. it makes her want to put you in your place, take out her bad mood on you in all the ways she can. “by the way you’re reacting, i doubt you even give a damn,” her voice fills your ears, laced with a playful biting tone. “cherry.”

you suddenly feel coldness of a metal on your arm, pointy ridges of metal fingers digging into the flesh. she moves you around like a rag doll, like you weight nothing to her, until you straddle both of her legs and your thighs are spread apart. “tell me, what kind of services can you offer for extra coin?” she teases you, her thick fingers toying and pulling on the string of your thongs, making it snap back to your skin. “besides a little lap dance.”

the air is thick with tension, pushing down on your shoulders. it’s an intense, sexual sensation, one you can barely get enough of. you feel as if you are getting dragged by the ankle into the deep pit of unbridled lust, and it bubbles deep in your belly. you crave her.

you yearn for her.

“for you? anything,” you muster up the last bits of your attitude and smirk at her, your hand coming up to her right shoulder to steady yourself. “free of charge.”

it’s all sevika needs, and in a matter of seconds, she pounces on you, her lips running along your pulse. she doesn’t kiss, not yet. she merely toys with you, shapes you to her liking until you are but a mess. every touch of hers has a purpose, and unlike in a brothel, she is taking her sweet damn time. she’s frustrating herself by this point, all of the shit she had to deal with were simmering under the lid and ready to leak out, but something in her told her to utterly wreck you.

the music continues to play, silencing every small noise that escapes from your mouth. her fingers start to travel lower, following the fabric of the lace until the fingertips hover just above your clothed clit. she doesn’t even brush over it, yet you can feel your cunt clench around nothing. you bit on your bottom lip as sevika’s fingers linger on your thong, cheap cherry taste of your lipstick hitting your tongue.

“means that i can do this, right?” she asks into your skin, finally putting pressure on your clit. you jump in her lap, the sudden touch making you flinch away.

sevika doesn’t let you move away. she only chuckles when her mechanical arm goes down to your hip, pinning you to her lap like you are her trophy. there is no way she’s letting you go now, she wants to see you tremble.

your mind is hazy, and so foggy you can barely think of anything other than her, and the feeling of her fingers circling over your sensitive clit.

“do anything you want. i’m here to give you a show, aren’t i?” you try to keep your bravado, but it collapses like a house of cards the second her hand slips under the fabric, touching your cunt.

“fuck, you’re wet,” she laughs at you, pulling away from the crook of your neck to look into your eyes. “are you that desperate, or what?”

you cry out in pleasure as an answer, which is all she needs. her fingers tease your clit, circling it, pinching it between her thumb and point finger, which only makes you wetter for her. it’s as if you’ve never had a good fuck in your life, and she is there to fix that.

sevika continues to tease you for a few lingering seconds, simply enjoying the sight of you crumbling beneath her touch, until she moves lower and leaves your swollen bundle of nerves twitching, yearning for contact. she doesn’t waste time to slip not one, but two of her fingers into your drenched hole, stretching it out.

“oh fuck,” you groan out once you feel her fingers move, pumping into you in a rough, but slow pace.

she keeps them curled just right, brushing over that sweet spot that makes your back arch and your eyes roll back. it’s clear that she is experienced, because she knows just how to touch you to keep you shivering in her lap. you drop your head to look at her hand moving between your legs, but sevika doesn’t allow you that for long.

her prosthetic hand shoots up to your neck, cocking your head upwards to keep you from looking away. she only applies little pressure to your throat, not hard enough to choke you out, but rather a little warning.

“eyes on me, cherry,” she rasps out, her eyes so intense it sends shivers down your spine. “be a good girl.”

her voice has you clenching around her fingers, pathetic mewls of pleasure rolling out of your mouth. you have no choice but to keep your gaze on her, your sight blurry and slightly unfocused as sevika’s fingers continue to fuck your cunt. as much as she enjoys the sounds you’re making, your voice is slowly starting to get louder than the music that still plays in the background.

with the metal hand on your throat, she tugs you forward, crashing her lips on your in a bruising kiss to swallow the moans you’re letting out. she doesn’t give you a chance to let you dominate the kiss as her tongue slides into your mouth. she is in charge, and she’s letting you know it.

the taste of hard liquor and smoke hits your tongue, but you’re too deep in pleasure to cringe at the taste. in all honesty it turns you on even more. the sensation of her thick fingers, pumping in and out of your drenched pussy combined with her mouth on yours make you go crazy. you are so close, your orgasm just a few thrusts away.

the way your walls clench and unclench tells sevika that you’re about to cum, but where is the fun in giving you what you want so early. she pulls her fingers out, and when you try to whine in protest, she lands a few hard smacks on your cunt. you can feel the slaps even through the fabric of your lingerie, that’s how rough she is.

“not yet, cherry. i’m far from done with you,” she mumbles when she pulls away from the kiss, her lips glistening with the mixture of your and her saliva. she grins, reaching for one of many fluffy cushions and throwing it on the floor underneath you. “on your knees.”

she lets go of your throat, letting you sink down on the floor. your knees nuzzle into the softness of the pillow, hands falling on the buckle of her belt to undo it. sevika lifts her hips when you unbutton her pants, letting you pull them down along with her underwear. she pulls one leg out to spread her legs more, giving you space to get closer.

you don’t dive in right away. instead, you run your tongue over her thighs, all while looking up at her. it’s like your little revenge on her for teasing you before, and for not letting you cum. sevika grits her teeth, her nostrils flaring a little. a woman normally with patience of steel is suddenly a ticking bomb, ready to explode.

her real hand moves to your hair, grabbing a fistful of the strands. she doesn’t pull at it, but her grip is tight. “don’t test my patience. not today.”

the tone of her voice, authoritative and commanding gives you chills, your cunt once again clenching around nothing. your eyes wander over her body until it stops on the wet mess between her muscular legs, and that’s all it takes to convince you to give her what she wants.

“yes, ma’am,” you whisper, and sevika’s grip on your hair loosens just enough for you to move.

with one final glance at her face, you delve your tongue into her cunt, moaning at the taste of her. your nose nudges against her swollen clit, which makes her let out a deep moan. her whole expression falters as you eat her out, curses and noises escaping her mouth like a mantra, a sinful prayer.

“you’re good, cherry,” she praises you breathlessly, fingers combing through your hair. “you sure you – oh, fuck – didn’t choose a wrong profession?”

you don’t give her an answer, your mouth being too busy with her pussy to talk. you eat her like a woman starved, like she is your last meal. you can feel her slick staining your chin, but you can hardly care. you only have one goal in mind, and that’s to take her over the edge.

your own cunt throbs whenever she moans, or accidentally tugs at your hair when your tongue laps at her clit. you’re desperate for release, just as you are desperate for her. your hand slowly slides into your panties, chasing your orgasm as your fingers rub your clit.

sevika can see what you’re doing, but all she can think about is how well your mouth pleases her. she tries to compose herself, to last longer, but the burning sensation in the pit of her stomach is getting unbearable, the coil ready to snap at any moment. all she needs is one final push.

and you give it to her. your lips wrap around her clit, sucking on it, which is what sends sevika over the edge. she throws her head back and moans out loud, not even caring who might hear outside of the salon. she cums into your mouth, her thighs squeezing your head. your own orgasm follows right after, and you whimper into her cunt. your back arches, you can’t pull away nor can you catch a breath, not when her muscular thighs keep you in a lock. your whole lower face is buried in her cunt for a few seconds, and you have to tap on her thigh to let you go, your lungs begging for air.

she looks down at you and realization hits her, her legs spreading apart again to let you move. you both gasp for air when you pull away, pants filling the room. the music stopped playing a while ago, and it dawns on you that your time with her should’ve ended minutes ago. yet you find yourself unable to actually leave the salon, not when you have just silco’s second-in-command cum like that.

sevika, who is not in a better state than you, feels the same. she grins down at you, her hand caressing your hair with gentleness that’s almost uncharacteristic to her.

“you may be a stripper, cherry, but i think you just found yourself a regular.”

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

No One Should Be Alone On Christmas

❅ summary: Ever since moving to Tokyo for work a month ago, you’d been drowning in loneliness. You hadn’t fully adjusted to the people or the city yet, and worse, you were about to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas morning all alone. At least, that’s what you thought. In an attempt to forget your loneliness, you went to a bar, where you met the most handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on. Other than the fact that he, too, was spending Christmas alone and that he was devastatingly attractive, you knew absolutely nothing about him. If Christmas miracles were real, maybe you could spend this night—and the morning—in Nanami Kento’s arms.

❅ pairing: nanami kento x fem!reader

❅ word count: 6.1k

❅ warnings: +18 Minors Do Not Interact +18 modern au!, reader and nanami are strangers, one-night stand (?), nanami in a turtleneck sweater because why not??, use of alcohol, christmas market date, big mac and cinnamon rolls (yeah i was hungry while writing), use of pet names, mentioning of loneliness, kissing, neck kissing, nipple play, fingering, slow sex that turns rough, mating press, protected sex, mentioning unprotected sex, dominant nanami, also thoughtful nanami (yey)

❅ a little note: hello everyone with my new christmas-themed story! i was supposed to post it last sunday, but since i just got back from a trip and was very tired, i could only post it today. i think it’s a sweet yet spicy one-shot. enjoy!

“And that was the ridiculous mugging incident I experienced during my first week in Tokyo,” you chuckled to yourself, the effects of alcohol making everything seem funnier. You finished the last sip of beer left in your glass in one go.

You were drunk. Seriously drunk.

Maybe getting some McDonald’s would help. At least it might clear your head, because right now, loneliness and unhappiness were clouding your ability to make rational decisions.

Spending Christmas Eve alone at a bar, drinking beer, and recounting your Tokyo adventures to a bartender who clearly didn’t care wasn’t part of your plans. Christmas had always been a warm and happy time you spent with your loved ones. But now, all you could feel was dizziness and a coldness you couldn’t explain.

You glanced at the time on your phone lying next to the empty beer glass. It was 8 PM. If you were lucky, maybe you’d find an open McDonald’s.

That is, if you could even manage to get up in your current state.

“Hey, uhmm… is there a McDonald’s nearby?” you slurred, somehow managing to form a coherent sentence as you directed your question to the bartender, who had been your reluctant companion for the past hour.

The bartender handed the cocktail glass he’d prepared to a server before turning to you with little enthusiasm. “I doubt it.”

“That’s ridiculous! McDonald’s is everywhere,” you retorted, anger bubbling up from your hunger.

The bartender seemed amused by your drunken indignation, letting out a low chuckle. “Maybe Tokyo, the city of your dreams, doesn’t have one after all.”

“Wait did you actually listen to me?” you asked, frowning at him because every sentence you told him was about how much you love and wanted to come to Tokyo.

“I got bored while making drinks and found listening to the silly stories of someone spending Christmas Eve alone kind of entertaining, I guess.”

“You’re rude,” you muttered, resting your head in your hands.

“And you’re lonely.”

“Alright, enough humiliation! Sure, I’m spending Christmas Eve alone, but you’re here making drinks and listening to a drunk woman ramble on. Ha! Got you! You’re just as lonely as I am.” Triumphant, you raised your head, only to lose your balance and tip backward. You were absolutely sure you were about to hit the floor, but instead, your back collided with something hard.

Maybe it was the backrest of the barstool?

Relieved, you exhaled deeply and turned around with a grin. “Well, if it weren’t for this backr—” Your words cut off mid-sentence because the thing that stopped your fall wasn’t the nonexistent backrest of the stool but a tall, broad figure dressed in black.

And it had blond hair. A truly stunning shade of blond.

The man in black was staring at you with a completely blank expression. It was almost as if he pitied you, but his face gave nothing away.

He shifted his gaze from your face and handed a card to the bartender. “I drank my usual,” he said.

The bartender took the card with a serious nod. “Yes, sir.” He clearly knew who this man was.

By now, you’d stopped leaning against the solid figure that had kept you from falling. Sitting upright on the stool, you realized you desperately needed to eat something and sober up. You reached into your bag to grab your card to pay.

But just as you were about to hand it to the bartender, the velvety voice of the man who had caught you made you turn your head.

“Please add the lady’s drinks to my tab,” he said.

The bartender glanced at the man and then at you, surprised, but didn’t protest as he added your drinks to the total. You stared at the man, trying to process what had just happened.

The blond-haired man was still watching you, his expression unchanging. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he pitied you again. After all, you were a woman spending Christmas Eve alone in a bar, drunk, and nearly cracking your head open on the marble floor. With all that combined, it was probably easy to see you as a pathetic, lonely soul in need of help.

The slight burning sensation in your eyes made it clear that tears were threatening to spill. And they did, quietly running down your cheeks. You didn’t even know why you felt so terrible. Spending Christmas Eve alone wasn’t that bad. You weren’t the only one doing it. Even the bartender, who you thought hadn’t been listening to you, probably was. And the other people quietly nursing their drinks in the bar were in the same boat.

And maybe even the blond-haired man who had stopped you from falling.

But right now, all you wanted was to build snowmen with your family, a tradition you’d done every Christmas Eve.

Screw it. Who wanted to be alone on Christmas?

Grabbing your coat and bag from the stool beside you, you muttered, “I’m sorry,” to the man before stumbling toward the door. The cold air hit your face as you stepped outside, making you scrunch your nose. It helped clear your head a little. You were about to pull out your phone to find the nearest McDonald’s when you realized it wasn’t in your bag.

Perfect. Your dramatic exit was now a complete failure.

Quickly wiping the tears from your face, you were about to turn back toward the bar when the door opened, and the blond-haired man emerged, looking concerned. His expression softened when he saw you. You, on the other hand, were standing there with mascara likely smeared all over your face.

He approached you quickly. “Excuse me, you forgot your phone,” he said, handing it to you.

You sniffled, your cold nose stinging, and looked at him gratefully through tear-filled eyes. “Thank you so much. I—I… Oh, God…” And just like that, you broke down again, sobbing uncontrollably.

The scene was so humiliating you wanted to dig a hole and bury yourself in it. A stranger had saved you from falling, paid your tab, brought you your phone, and now had to watch you cry like a child because of your stupid Christmas loneliness.

And here you were, crying again.

Covering your face with your hands, you tried to hide from him. All you wanted was to find that damn McDonald’s, eat until you were stuffed, and go back to your tiny but beloved one-bedroom apartment to bake cinnamon rolls.

“Forgive me for asking, but are you okay, miss? If you’re feeling unwell, I could take you home. Or, if you prefer, I can call a cab,” his soft voice said, breaking through your sobs.

You lowered your hands to look at him, sniffling a few more times. The blond man had a slight accent. His Japanese was fluent, but the words carried a subtle difference in tone. It was strangely captivating. And it wasn’t just his voice that was impressive—his face and build made him almost ridiculously perfect. You’d noticed his face briefly in the bar, but now you could fully appreciate it.

And yet, how could anyone be this nice? Of course you shouldn’t trust him immediately. For all you knew, he could be one of Tokyo’s most wanted criminals. With his black turtleneck, matching coat, and slacks, he had a slight “mob boss” vibe. The glasses softened his sharp features a bit, but actually, no—they made him look even more severe. Still, his previously stoic expression had faded. Now, there was a mix of concern and pity on his face.

You didn’t want his pity. No one wanted to be pitied. But maybe, just maybe, you could use it to feel a little better.

After taking a moment to compose yourself, you sniffled again and said, “I’m just… really hungry.”

The blond man responded to your honest statement with a smile, which only made things worse. How could he be even more handsome now?

“Alright, I know a good place. Would you like me to take you there? Don’t worry, I'll just take you there,” he said, his voice as gentle as ever.

Accepting his offer didn’t seem like a bad idea. If you ate something, you’d sober up and fill your empty stomach. The only problem was that you didn’t want to do it alone. Sure, this guy might be Tokyo’s top serial killer, but even killers didn’t commit crimes on Christmas Eve, right?

“Do you like McDonald’s?” you asked, though you doubted it. Looking at his impeccable physique, he probably only ate the healthiest foods imaginable. But you’d already made your offer.

The blond man’s smile widened, and his answer made your heart skip a beat. “I’m sure there’s one nearby.”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

“You’re really hungry.”

Your eyes drifted to the blond-haired man as you bit into your second Big Mac. You were absolutely delighted. You’d managed to find a McDonald’s just a ten-minute walk away (take that, bartender!) and had ordered two Big Macs, two large fries, and an iced tea. The man across from you hadn’t ordered anything. No matter how much you insisted, he said he wasn’t hungry. When he tried to pay for your meal, you’d grabbed yhis wrist and said, “Unless you want me to throw up on you, put your card away.”

He was bigger than you and would probably win if it came to a fight, but you could handle paying for your own food. Sure, it was nice of him to be so polite, but this was a bit much.

“Yooh. I loveee Bog Moc,” you mumbled, mouth full of food, trying to speak as best as you could. It was definitely not respectful, but you’d already cried enough and embarrassed yourself in front of this guy.

The blond-haired man laughed at your attempt to speak. “I’m glad. I hope I’m not bothering you?” he asked casually, folding his arms across his chest.

You swallowed your bite and wiped your mouth with a napkin. “Not at all! If I felt uncomfortable, I wouldn’t have invited you.” You took a sip of your iced tea. “Though, I did wonder if you were a serial killer on the most-wanted list.”

You must’ve genuinely amused him because he threw his head back and laughed. That deep, masculine sound was more beautiful than any song you’d ever heard. This man did everything with elegance.

Unlike you.

He unfolded his arms and rested them on the table. The sleeves of his sweater pushed up slightly, giving you a brief but glorious view of his veiny forearms.

Now you were even hungrier. And this wasn’t a hunger another Big Mac could satisfy. You needed those arms. You needed to taste how strong they were. If you were lucky, maybe you’d get to feel the pleasure of his fingers inside your vagina.

In your wet and swollen vagina.

“Who knows, maybe I am. But if I were, why would you invite me to come along?”

“I thought about it and decided no killer would be boring enough to commit murder on Christmas Eve.”

The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk. “You’re right. At this moment, I’d rather watch a crying woman devour hamburgers than deal with bloody, tedious business.”

You paused mid-sip of your drink, your face falling at his words.

He must’ve noticed because he immediately looked concerned. “Shit. I’m sorry. I was just trying to make you laugh… As you can see, I’m not great at that.”

But he had made you laugh. The fact that he thought he’d upset you was actually funny. “Do you want to know why I was crying?”

“If it won’t upset you, then yes.” As he spoke, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. That small gesture was enough to make your heart race at 500 beats per second. It was a suspiciously intimate act for someone you’d only known for an hour, but you didn’t think he was trying to seduce you.

“I moved to Tokyo a month ago for a job offer. While moving to the city of your dreams is exciting, there are so many things I miss. I might have a great job, and small apartment which I love but being away from my family and friends is so hard. I know it might sound silly, but I miss them. And this is the time of year I want to be with them the most. Instead, I’m sitting here with a sexy man who still hasn’t told me whether or not he’s a serial killer.” You realized you’d said the word “sexy” only after finishing your sentence, and to cover up the embarrassment of your slip-up, you quickly stuffed a fry in your mouth.

“While I appreciate you saying I’m not bothering you, the fact that you said I’m a sexy stranger who could be a serial killer is truly…” He paused, searching for the right word. “…honorable.”

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re not bad company. I just miss them. Right now, I’d probably be having a snowman-making contest with them and baking cinnamon rolls afterward. My dad is the best at that. He owns a little bakery in my hometown. I try to beat him every year, but I think some things just come down to talent.” As the memories flooded your mind, you shook your head and took a big sip of your drink.

“That sounds wonderful,” he said, looking like he wanted to say more. After a moment, he added, “I’m Japanese, but my maternal grandfather is Danish. I grew up and studied there. Like you, I moved to Japan last month for work.”

“Wow, we really have the same story. What company do you work for?”

“Nanami Structures.”

Your eyes widened at the name. “Holy shit! Are you serious?”

“Yes… Why?”

“The advertising agency I work for is doing their new campaign! We even have a meeting with the owner after New Year’s. Of course, I’ll just be there to take notes. Everything was already planned before I joined them.”

“Then this must be a nice coincidence.”

“Definitely! So, what do you do there?”

The blond man hesitated for a few seconds before answering. “I’m an architect.”

“Cool.”

“Thank you. Anyway, the point I wanted to make is that I go through the same struggles as you. I’ve always worked away from my family and only get to see them once a year at best. Still, I make sure to call them every Christmas morning, and they always show me our dog Takuma in his latest Christmas costume.”

“That’s adorable. There’s nothing cuter than dogs in costumes! Especially if they’re dressed as elves.”

“That was last year. My guess for this year is a reindeer costume.”

“If you keep talking, my heart is going to burst from how cute this is.” The two of you laughed, and you realized how much better you felt talking to this stranger. As you finished your fries, it hit you that while you now knew the name of his dog, he still hadn’t told you his own name.

Excitedly, you asked, “Okay, you might be on a most-wanted list, but can you at least tell me your name? Don't worry! I won't tell anyone. I’m just tired of calling you the man with the nice arms and the limp.”

“You think my arms and limp are nice?” He raised a brow, giving you a questioning look.

Apparently, the alcohol was still in your system because you couldn’t stop the words from spilling out of your mouth.

“Doesn’t everyone?”

He responded with that deep, masculine laughter again. “You can call me Ken.”

“Ken… Honestly, that suits you. You look like a Ken doll.” You extended your hand to him, telling your name. He shook your hand with his large, soft one.

“For someone who draws all day, your hands and fingers are surprisingly soft.”

He glanced at his fingers. “I take good care of them. After all, I need them to keep people satisfied.”

That statement could be interpreted in three ways:

1. He’s an architect who creates designs to impress people.

2. He uses those hands to satisfy partners in bed until they’re utterly spent.

3. Both of the above.

It was probably the first, but your slightly aroused brain was leaning toward the second… or maybe the third.

“I’d be very happy if you told me the cream you use,” you stammered, barely managing to speak through your embarrassment.

“Gladly. If you’re done eating, how about we get some cinnamon rolls?”

Surprised by his suggestion, you asked, “Do you think we can find some? Most places are closed on Christmas Eve. Even this place will close in an hour.” Your original plan had been to bake them at home, but inviting him over seemed too forward. He might have a girlfriend or even a wife. Heck, maybe he even had kids. Okay, probably not a wife or girlfriend—he wouldn’t be spending time with another woman alone if he did. But the kids were still a question mark.

While he offered to find cinnamon rolls, you were mentally drafting his backstory like a TV drama. How ethical was that?

“There’s a Christmas market near where I live, and I saw some on sale earlier,” he said.

You immediately stood up, grabbing your coat and bag. “How far is it?”

Ken laughed, standing and guiding you toward the McDonald’s exit with a hand lightly resting on your back. “Not far, don’t worry.”

It seemed this Christmas Eve wasn’t turning out so bad after all.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

The cinnamon rolls were absolutely delicious. Maybe they weren’t as good as your dad’s, but they were definitely better than the ones you made.

“I don’t know why we didn’t meet earlier,” you said, taking another bite of your cinnamon roll. “If we had, I’m sure we’d be great friends. I’d probably come to this market every day, too!”

Ken laughed as he watched you. “I think we would’ve been great friends, too. And since you eat so much, I’d have made a workout program just for you.”

By the time you’d left McDonald’s and arrived here, you’d talked about so many things. The conversation continued while you searched for a place to sit and as you devoured the cinnamon rolls. Ken might have appeared to be a stern person, but after spending this time with him, you were certain he wasn’t a serial killer. Also, as you had guessed (unlike you), he was one of the healthiest eaters you’d ever met. And after your mini TED Talk on your love for food, he seemed determined to convert you to the joys of a healthy lifestyle.

“Hold it right there, big guy. I’m perfectly happy with my body.”

Ken’s eyes instinctively roamed over your body. You weren’t wearing anything particularly eye-catching—just a white sweater and jeans. But even so, his gaze lingered on you with undeniable appreciation.

You wondered if he wanted to do more than just look, and then he spoke his thoughts aloud. “You should be proud—you have a really great body.” After saying this, he seemed to lower his head, almost embarrassed.

You didn’t want him to be embarrassed. If anything, you wanted him to say more. Much more…

You placed your plastic fork back into the container of cinnamon rolls. “Even though we’re spending Christmas Eve together, I still haven’t thanked you for saving me. If you hadn’t stood behind me when you were about to pay, who knows how much I would’ve embarrassed myself.” You let out a playful groan.

“You’re welcome. But I’d also like to thank you.”

“For what? If it’s for the cinnamon rolls, you’ve already had enough—”

“Oh no, but thanks again for those. If I hadn’t stopped you, I’m pretty sure you would’ve broken my arm.”

That was true. You’d insisted on paying for the rolls yourself as a kind gesture. After all, he’d paid for your drinks. Also, when you handed over your card, seeing his veiny hands and the Rolex on his wrist had almost made you bite those hands right then and there.

“But what I want to thank you for is making me laugh while you were drunk. Also, we’re definitely going to report that mugging incident to the police.”

“Wait, you were actually listening to me?”

“I wasn’t sitting very far from the bar, and after I noticed you, I don’t think I could’ve focused on anything else.”

You stared at Ken with a hungry look in your eyes. The fact that he wanted you made you want to scream with joy. This man had truly saved you from a lonely Christmas. Tonight would end soon, but maybe—just maybe—you wouldn’t wake up alone on Christmas morning either.

“You said you live nearby, right?”

“Yes, why? Are you not feeling well?”

“No instead I’m really good. I just want to feel better.”

Ken didn’t say anything for a moment, but the look in his eyes told you he understood exactly what you meant—and that he wanted the same thing.

“Are you sure? If you’re still drunk and don’t want to—”

“I really want you, Ken.”

He still didn’t respond with words; he just kept looking at you with that same hungry gaze.

“Five minutes. It’s just a five-minute walk.”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

“Mffmmp Ken, please…”

As soon as the elevator reached the floor of the luxurious apartment and he opened the door, your lips collided with Ken’s, and you practically jumped into his arms.

He kissed and sucked your lips with such hunger that it felt like he was already inside you. One hand caressed the right side of your face while the other firmly gripped your waist.

He pulled his lips away from yours. “What is it, baby? You want more?” He brushed his lips against yours again but didn’t kiss you. You could feel his hot breath on your lips. “Say it. Say it again.”

“Fuck… Yes, Ken. I want you to pin me to your bed and fuck me until I can’t feel my legs.” You managed to get the words out, panting.

“I knew the moment I saw you that you’d drive me insane.” He pulled you away from the wall where he had you pressed and kissed you again, carrying you toward his bedroom.

You closed your eyes along the way, but you knew you were going upstairs somehow. Was this apartment his? And damn, why was it so big? You were too aroused to focus on anything else. All that mattered to you was the fullness of his luscious lips.

When your back met the soft satin sheets, you opened your eyes. Ken was watching you with a deep hunger in his gaze. Slowly, he leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on your lips before trailing softer kisses downward.

He licked and sucked at your neck, his hands sliding under your white sweater until they reached your breasts. Without rushing, he kneaded them with a deep hunger.

He spoke against your neck, his warm breath making you shiver. “May I take this off?”

The only response you could muster was a loud moan. Ken took it as a yes, planting a final kiss on the sensitive spot of your neck before sitting up and carefully removing your sweater. All that was left was your white lace bra, but instead of taking it off immediately, he let his fingers wander over the lace, particularly around the area of your nipples.

“They’re so soft and beautiful. I could play with them all night.” He leaned down and pressed wet kisses against your bra-covered breasts.

“Oh my god, Ken! Shit—are you going to take it off or not?”

His gaze shifted from your breasts to your face, darkened with desire. He took your right nipple between his teeth over the fabric, making you moan loudly. When he released it, your eyes were still closed, and you were gripping the satin sheets so hard it was a miracle they didn’t tear.

“I like it,” he said, his gaze returning to your breasts. “Besides, the night is long. I’ll take it off when I feel like it.” Without hesitation, he moved to your left breast and gave it the same pleasure as the right.

“Sh-shit, I’ve never—never felt this way before…” Your hands left the sheets and gripped his hair, pulling him closer as if begging for more.

“If I wanted to, I could make you come just by sucking on this perfect nipple, sweetheart.” You were sure he could. If he kept torturing your nipples like this, your panties would be completely soaked.

As if he’d read your mind, his lips left your breast and returned to your neck. He immediately found your favorite spot and began sucking, while one hand moved downward to your soaked, desperate core. You hadn’t even realized when he’d removed your jeans and panties; the pleasure in your breasts had blinded you to everything else.

“So wet and…” His fingers explored your walls, gently rubbing them. “…so warm.”

“KEN… PLEASE.”

“Shhh, be a patient baby. I promise you won’t spend a single second of this Christmas Eve alone or without pleasure,” he said, his lips biting down on your neck as his fingers found your clit. He rubbed it slowly but firmly. “No one will stop my new friend from having a beautiful Christmas.” His fingers moved faster, pressing hard against your most sensitive spot.

“Ughh… Ken, fuck—fuck, I don’t want to—don’t want to be alone.”

His hot breath and quiet curses landed on your neck. “You’re not, sweetheart. I won’t let you be. You’re with me, here, in my bed.”

He drew circles over your clit with his fingers before suddenly plunging them inside you, making you cry out. You didn’t know how he sped up, but as his thick fingers pumped in and out of you, he never slowed down.

“Y-you’re so fast, Ken!” you stammered, barely able to speak from the pleasure. He pressed against your G-spot with such precision that it felt like he’d tear through it.

“Fuck… Right here, isn’t it? That sweet spot. I bet it’s been swollen like this even before we got here,” he said, slowing his pace but pressing harder and deeper against your G-spot. With each deliberate thrust of his fingers, their full length filled you completely.

“YES—YES, THAT’S EXACTLY IT… OH KEN… DON’T—UGH—DON’T STOP!” Both hands moved from the sheets to his head, pulling at his perfectly blond hair as if encouraging him to go deeper.

“Don’t you dare come yet. You’re only coming when I’m inside you for the first time,” he warned as he felt your walls begin to clench around his fingers.

Amid the wet, obscene sounds of your core, you tried to protest. “But I want to… I-I’m so close, Ken.” You pulled his hair harder.

Ken suddenly stopped moving his fingers and pulled them out of you. He sat up, licking his fingers clean. His deep, masculine groans as he savored every inch of your taste sent shivers down your spine.

“Screw the cinnamon rolls. This is my dessert.”

He climbed off the bed and removed his pants and the black turtleneck that fit him so perfectly. His boxers strained against his erection. He opened a drawer from the nightstand, pulling out a condom packet. Lowering his boxers, his cock sprang free, leaving you staring in awe.

Calling it a “cock” felt insufficient—it was massive. A rare sight that anyone would only encounter a few times in their life. And lucky you, on a Christmas night you thought you’d spend alone, you’d encountered it. In that moment, you mentally thanked Jesus. Because without him, there would be no Christmas.

Ken tore the condom packet open with his teeth and carefully rolled it onto his length. He must have noticed your wide-eyed stare because he leaned down to place a soft kiss on your lips for you to focus on him.

“I never have sex without protection, but if you’re uncomfortable—”

“No—no. I don’t take pills, so we can’t take any risks.”

His gorgeous smile returned to his sweaty face. Aligning himself with your entrance, he pushed just the tip inside, making you close your eyes and let out a deep moan.

“Ken…”

“Fuck, baby. You’re so tight. Too tight…” He gripped his length and pushed more inside. You wrapped your arms around him, clinging to his body as you adjusted to his size. He hadn’t even fully entered you yet.

Ken began thrusting slowly, letting you get used to his girth. When your back hit the satin sheets again, he hooked your legs around his waist. His face found your neck, his favorite spot, as he groaned softly.

“This—this is exactly what I needed.” His cock slid in and out with increasing depth. “This isn’t just—fuck… Christmas fun, sweetheart. You’re mine now.”

Pulling away from your neck, he straightened up and started moving faster. Your legs stayed wrapped around his waist, his cock hitting the perfect spot inside you with every thrust.

“Hnngh Ken… F-faster… Please, faster…” You needed more. You wanted all of him.

Ken gripped your legs tighter. “Yeah? Is that what you want?” He suddenly pushed your legs up to your chest and leaned over, slamming his entire length into you.

“KEN—KEN… FUCK… YOU’RE GOING TO BREAK ME!”

“That’s the plan.”

This was more than just sex—it was pure obliteration. His cock was wrecking you, pounding against your G-spot with relentless force. Your legs, trembling from pleasure and strain, would have fallen limp if Ken weren’t holding them.

“Ken… I think I’m—I’m going to come…” you moaned, the waves of pleasure building in your body signaling your release.

“Yeah?” His hands tightened around your thighs. “Then take it. Take every—every inch of me. Come for me, sweetheart…”

“DAMN—I LOVE CHRISTMAS SO MUCH!” you cried out, the explosion of your orgasm rocking through you.

Ken thrust into you a few more times, then slowed his movements. The grip on your legs loosened as he let out a deep, guttural growl and came, filling the condom.

As he released your legs, they dropped to the bed, completely limp. You didn’t have the strength to lift them. Ken braced himself above you, breathing heavily. His eyes were closed, and in that moment, you decided this was the most handsome he’d ever looked.

He pulled out of you and disappeared into the bathroom. You assumed he was disposing of the condom. When he returned, his cock was still hard, and he was stroking it lightly as he walked toward you.

You stared at him in shock. Again? Hadn’t he just come?

The sweet man you’d met that evening now looked serious as he ordered, “Turn around and get on all fours. No condom this time.”

Your eyes widened at his words. You were done. You had no energy left, but you still obeyed, getting into position despite your trembling legs.

As you closed your eyes and prepared to feel his massive size inside you again, one thought crossed your mind: Jesus was probably watching.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been. Did you really want him witnessing these nasty moments?

Happy birthday, Jesus.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

You woke up the next morning with a sharp ache in your hips. You’d known this would happen. After going six rounds in five different positions with that massive cock, it was inevitable.

You tried to lift yourself up but flopped back down. Turning to the other side of the bed, you found no trace of the stranger you’d met the previous night. Pushing the hair out of your face, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, feeling the coolness of the floor beneath your feet.

As you wondered how you were going to walk, you noticed a glass of water and a few pills on the nightstand. Beside them, a note written in neat, elegant handwriting caught your eye.

“I thought you might need these :)”

“That bastard…” you muttered under your breath. He really knew what he was doing. Sure, he was sweet, but what he’d done to you in bed last night… You’d cried during sex for the first time in your life.

Quickly downing the pills, you got to your feet and started searching for something to wear. Picking your clothes up off the floor was out of the question—you didn’t have the strength. While exploring the room, you found a massive walk-in closet and rejoiced when you spotted an oversized T-shirt.

Everything was neatly folded and smelled just like him. If they sold his cologne, you’d have bought ten bottles without hesitation. Slipping into the plain white T-shirt you found, which reached past your thighs, you decided underwear wasn’t even necessary.

Leaving the bedroom to find Ken, you finally noticed the sheer size of the apartment. How much did architects make? Maybe he was world-renowned. You made a mental note to look him up as soon as you got home.

Descending the stairs, the smell of freshly brewed coffee hit your nose. You saw him standing in front of the coffee machine, wearing nothing but gray sweatpants. His back was to you, his hand holding his phone as he scrolled through something.

He looked like a Christmas morning gift you couldn’t wait to unwrap.

“Good morning…” you said shyly, standing near the entrance of the kitchen.

Ken looked up from his phone, and his eyes hungrily roamed over you. You recognized that look all too well, and God, no, not right now. You were starving, and your legs had barely carried you this far.

“Hey, good morning.” He walked over and kissed you softly before returning to the coffee machine as it finished brewing. “Coffee?” he asked, to which you eagerly replied, “Please.”

The word please had become your most-used word in the past 10 hours, and if you stayed around this man any longer, it would probably dominate the rest of your vocabulary.

Ken handed you a cup of coffee, then started making one for himself. Taking a sip, the warmth of the coffee helped you feel a bit more alive.

“Shit… I forgot to text my parents.” You set your cup down on the counter and went to find your bag. It didn’t take long; it was sitting near the entrance. Grabbing your phone from your bag, you opened your messages to reply to the “Merry Christmas” text your parents had sent you at 7 a.m., which you were now seeing three hours late.

When you returned to the kitchen, Ken was speaking on the phone in what sounded like Danish. You couldn’t understand a word, but no language had ever sounded this sexy before.

You placed your bag on the counter and waited for him to finish while you opened a text from a coworker.

Yuma [20:30]: Hey, I didn’t want to bother you on Christmas Eve, but do you remember that architecture company we’re making the ad for?

Yuma [20:30]: Of course you do. Well, the owner hasn’t been in Japan for a long time, but now he’s here.

Yuma [20:30]: *photo*

Yuma [20:31]: YUMMYYY!!!

Yuma [9:23]: Merry Christmas!! I know you spent the evening alone, but if you want company this morning, teleport to my place!

Yuma [9:50]: Since you haven’t replied, I’m assuming you drank and cried yourself to sleep last night.

You started reading the messages from the bottom up. Just as you were about to reply that your Christmas Eve hadn’t been lonely at all, the attached photo caught your attention—and you froze.

This couldn’t be real.

The man in the photo, looking dashing in a gray suit, was the same man currently standing in the kitchen wearing nothing but sweatpants, speaking on the phone.

You quickly opened Google and typed Nanami Structures. The CEO’s name caught your eye.

Kento Nanami.

Clicking on the name brought up countless photos, articles, and interviews about the man you’d spent the night with.

This was your fault. Why hadn’t you researched the company before the meeting? Then again, this deal had been arranged before you’d joined, so no one had given you the details.

Closing your phone, you set it down next to your bag and took a large sip of the coffee Kento Nanami himself had made for you. The heat burned your tongue, and you winced as your eyes drifted back to his bare back.

The handsome stranger who’d kept you company on Christmas Eve and Christmas morning was the owner of the architecture firm you’d be making an ad for—and probably the reason you wouldn’t be able to walk properly by the time of the meeting.

That day, you truly believed in the Christmas miracles.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

nanami art by @matchapichai on X.

dividers by @mikeykuns @cafekitsune

[simpjaes]

So Sweet. ― P.JS

The one where Jay, in all of his cherry-flavored thoughts, makes you cherry flavored too. requested here, here, and here 

minors dni 

PAIRING ― park jongseong x afab reader  

WORDCOUNT― 3.8k

CONTENT―   reader is jealous over nothing, NO THIS IS NOT ANGST, mostly just smutty stuff, food play, costume party (jay is wearing cat ears hueheuehue), alcohol is involved but it’s consenting, ya’ll fuck in [redacted]’s room and leave the mess for him to clean up. 

WARNING―  idk, reader is possessive and jealous, kinda crazy. very me tbh. jay kinda just shoves it in even tho it’s painful for her……and keeps going………

NOTE ― happy almost halloween :D this is very short, written with haste, and probably not that good but…….jay, yknow? jay makes it good. 

nsfw tags under cut

nsfw tags― big fat huge cock jay, candy-play, costumes & cat ears, reader sucks his candy like it’s his cock and he nearly combusts over it,  pussy eating, cock stuffing, cream pie

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s gotta be the cat ears, you think, as you stare at your boyfriend from across the room. Everyone is a blur, but goddamn something is off tonight. Because, like, why is every fucking woman in this room staring at him like they wanna rip his clothes off?! 

Or, maybe it’s that faux-freshly-fucked blushy glow across his cheeks, or the blinking out of sync that comes paired with his drunken jokes and words. The atmosphere truly is making the usual, stoic, lame-ass Jay appear as nothing but an endearing cat-man who deserves a mouth on him. 

And you know, the fact that you came here with him, with matching ears and a fucking tail, should scare off all these little bitches, yet there they are? Suddenly just so interested in your man?! 

Jake is the first to notice the way you stare, raising a brow in confusion.

“You guys get in a fight or something?” He asks as his own animal-themed ears flop around when he turns his head to you.

“No–” You narrow your eyes at a woman who keeps glancing at your boyfriend as you say it, paying Jake little to no mind. “Just wondering why everyone has a hard-on for my boyfriend right now.”

Jake nods, pouting his lip out and raising a brow as if to silently say “Ah, makes sense.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better–” Jake starts, glancing around the room. “I literally don’t see anyone trying to get it on with him. I think you’re making problems.”

Pause.

“Please. Look at her!” You slightly raise your voice, pointing to a woman who is absolutely not trying to get on Jay’s dick, in fact, she’s literally eyeing Heeseung like she’s about to pounce. 

It’s really just the fact that she’s standing right next to Jay, and you caught her looking at him a few times, and also they had a “conversation” a few days ago. Nevermind that it was a “See ya after break!” type of conversation, or that she said it to everyone, and not specifically to Jay. It’s just that he responded alongside everyone else.

“You’re being annoying.” Jake finally starts to walk away from you, not actually annoyed but more-so amused at how jealous you’ve become solely because you’ve had a few shots. 

It’s not often you drink, after all. 

“Wait, where are you going?”

“Gonna go kiss on your man–” Jake laughs, now rushing his way through a crowd of drinkers and glancing at you when he whispers in your boyfriend’s ear.

You watch the way Jay falls into a face of concentration trying to hear his friend, and then see his eyes flick to you. 

Oh, well that’s just great. Surely Jake isn’t actually trying to hit on Jay, he’s probably over there snitching like a little asshole. Which sucks because this relationship with Jay is….it’s kinda new, you know? You don’t want to come across as the possessive type, or like– controlling.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You find yourself panicking when Jay stumbles his way over to you, a newly unwrapped lollipop hanging half from his lips as he sips his drink around the candy, and only spilling it once solely because he keeps his eyes on you rather than his footing. Jake is left behind, now beside that girl that clearly wants Heeseung to bone her into the next dimension, looking uncomfortable and left out. 

Good. She deserves it. 

“So…” Jay says as he stands next to you, leaning back against the wall and snaking one arm behind you to grab at your waist. “Someone’s jealous?”

You fold in on yourself a little bit, feeling that grip he gives to you that forces you against his side. 

“Of course not.” You mumble, sipping from your cup and still staring out into the room of people. “Why would you ever think that?”

“Jake said so.” Jay laughs now, leaning his head over to whisper under your ear. “You saying he’s lying?”

His breath sends a shiver down your spine just as the song changes to that of muffled bass, loud enough to have you wanting to cover your ears.

“Yes–” You start. 

“Huh?” Jay pulls back to look at you. 

“Yes, he’s lying.” You try again.

“What?”

Before you try to answer again, you feel him pull you. Around a corner, up, up, and away from the booming music one floor up. He lands you in someone’s room, fuck if you know who’s.

“Hm?”

Your breath catches in your throat when you look at him now. No one else in the room to muffle that croak in his drunken voice, those blushed cheeks, the fucking ears.

“I said, he’s lying.” You say meekly, unable to tear your eyes from the little split in his lip, reddened by the candy hanging from his mouth. 

His breath smells of cherry and tequila when he leans closer, tilting his head playfully to look into your eyes, as if to check if you’re the one lying. 

“Is that so?” He says, pulling the lollipop from his lips and sucking the taste down his throat, allowing that scent to waft through your nose yet again. “So you don’t mind knowing Jake’s ex tried to get my number?” 

Your eyes widen before they narrow. You cross your arms and look away from him.

“Of course not.” You lie. 

“And you wouldn’t care that I gave it to her?” He says now, hovering his lips near yours, eyes hooded as he plays with his words. 

That makes your blood boil though, and no longer can you sit here and pretend like you wouldn’t bring out the claws and start pulling hair if it comes to it. After all, that bitch was a homewrecker! Totally broke Jake’s heart and has the audacity to come to parties when she knows he will be here? And she asked for Jay’s number?!

And he gave it to her?! Jay chuckles when he pulls back, popping the candy back into his mouth as he studies the shift in your nonchalant vibe. He stays silent though, amused, waiting for you to argue until he notices the way your eyes fall. 

No longer annoyed, but hurt.

In all fairness, that silence he gave you after that had you thinking…he really gave her his number?

“Baby–” Jay soothes now, pushing the lollipop to his cheek with his tongue so he can speak as clearly as he can despite the slur in his speech from the drinks. “I’m joking.”

The relief washes over your drunken mind, feeling better but now back to being irritated. What’s with him right now? You don’t exactly want to be jealous, but the fact that he’s making damn sure that you were is kinda…like, is he into that? Does he want you to be possessive?

You’d be lying though, if you said he didn’t look hot as hell the other day pulling you closer to his side because a store clerk looked at you for a second too long. You might’ve even swooned a bit. 

“You’re a dick.” You finally respond, shoving him back playfully, unable to hide the relieved smile on your lips. “Looking hot-and-bothered all night, leaving me in a random room only for me to see you talking with some girl after finding you again.” 

He lends you his own laugh now, wiggling his eyebrows before popping the candy out of his mouth again. “Oh, her? The girl who Heeseung basically just finger fucked on the kitchen counter?”

You pause for a second, unsure as to why that sounds hot. Maybe just because she’s not after your man? Or maybe you like, wish you’d have seen.

“And you didn’t even take me to see?!” You go to playfully shove him again, but he stops you with his own gentle shove. Straight against the door, getting up real close to your face before whispering.

“So, you were jealous?” That slur in his speech is nowhere to be found before you taste the explosion of cherry. You’re kind of just staring at him, nodding out an admittance as his eyes fall lower, to where he’s tracing the bulbous head of that lollipop against your bottom lip. “Hot.”

“You’re going to drive me insane, you know that?” You finally say after the fourth or fifth time he’s swiped that lollipop against you, adding a translucent sheen to your already alcohol-sweet lips. 

“Mhm.” He nods triumphantly, now pushing the candy past your lips and into your mouth. “Should’ve came over and let me finger fuck you on the counter next, would that have made you feel better?” 

You roll your eyes playfully, ignoring the throb between your legs at his bold words. Jay isn’t typically this feisty, though you’d have totally let him do such a thing regardless of the eyes that could see. You just, like, didn’t really think he’d be willing to do something like that.

“I learn something new about you every day.” You chuckle out, noting the way he stares at your mouth and the way you suck on his lollipop. 

“Got loads of secrets for you, babe–” He smirks, taking initiative now and pressing his palms down on your shoulders, as if to make you lower yourself to the floor. Which, of course you do. You sink down, feeling the wooden door behind you sturdy and strong. As you do, he reaches over, locking the door.

What you think is about to be the best head of his life turns out to be him sinking down with you, slotting himself between your legs on the floor and pinning you there with his hands against the door. His head tilts cutely, the cat ears now looking more realistic than ever.

He doesn’t look like a curious little black cat anymore, he looks like he’s hunting for prey as he looks at you. 

“Look at you,” He says, more serious and without that smirk before he takes the candy back. “So, so cute.”

You’re melting against him after those words, feeling his tongue lick against your lips before you can even return to compliment. It’s sweet, red coated tongues creating a sugary mess, hums and pleasant sounds leave both of you at the flavor, only to deepen the kiss because neither of you can really get enough of it either. 

You reach up in the kiss, petting the ears on his head despite knowing he can’t feel it the way a real feline would, but he reacts all the same. Totally into it, even, nearly roleplaying as he groans. Maybe he’s just amused that you did that, or maybe he’s wondering if you’ll pull at his next or something. 

And in this kiss that seems to never end, he gets touchy. Pushing and pulling you to both give and take control, one hand moving from cupping your face, to gently holding your neck, up until it finds its way down down down, then up your scanty shirt. 

Totally lost in it, both of you are. With you skewing his ears to scratching at the nape of his neck, to him groping, and suddenly– prodding that same lollipop that you’d forgotten about between both of your lips. He’s amused when you lick it, the dulling cherry flavor coming back into the kiss with full force between you as he pulls back, red salvia stains all around his mouth before the smirk is back.

He watches as you take it back into your mouth, his own hand pushing it in and out, watching you chase it when he tries to pull it out entirely, only to shove it back in, deeper. That’s when he groans, pinching your nipple through your shirt particularly hard due to the sheer arousal that rushes to his cock. It lends him a little throb, a dribble of pre-cum messing his pants.

That about does it for him, pulling the candy out of your mouth now despite the way you chase it pitifully. He pops it into his own temporarily so he can go straight for what he not only wants, but needs right now. You watch him, a little dazed with the way his hair matches perfectly with the color of the cat ears, now a little crooked due to your meddling. 

He goes straight for it too, reaching under your skirt and practically tearing your panties off of you before he’s spreading your thighs wide and re-adjusting himself back between your legs. 

You squeak a little in response, proud of the unintentional sound because it’s very in character for the whole, you know, matching cat costume thing. And he only responds with another kiss, the sucker now removed from his mouth as he offers the flavor through his own saliva. 

Drinking it up is easy as you lick into his mouth, feeling the way his fingers toy with your folds, sliding up and down the slippery heat before–

“Jay–” You pull back, confused at the new feeling between your legs as you look at him.

His pupils are wide when he looks at you, mouth still slack from the kiss you were in the middle of, shoulder moving in tune with each push inside of you. He doesn’t respond, lost entirely in the moment and so fucking horny over what he’s doing to you right now. 

He kisses against you again, moving his hand faster, deeper, when his lips reach your neck. 

“Cherry girl.” He mumbles mindlessly, kissing down your neck and to the exposed skin on your chest that your shirt offers. “Tastes good on you.” He continues to mumble, working his way down as he kisses over your clothes up until he dips under your skirt. “In you.”

So, yeah, you’re being fucked with a well-abused lollipop and you’re not ashamed to moan about it because, holy shit.

His mouth is on you harder than it was when he was making out with you previously. Chasing the flavor, moaning for it, gripping your ass and pulling you closer against his tongue. You grip at the hard floor under you, unable to grasp anything at all through the sudden and intense jolts of pleasure.

And he doesn’t stop moaning, that sucker still being pushed in and out of you, only pulled out briefly for him to, presumably, shove it in his mouth before circling his lips around your clit with a hard suck. And he does that over and over again, like a loop of intended pleasure where he’s just fucking drowning in all of his favorite flavors. 

To not be into this is insane, to not grip onto something is even crazier. You reach down, pulling your skirt up just to see the way his eyes are rolled back, totally unable to make eye contact with you as he relishes in the red-sugar flavor of your cunt. The image alone makes you roll your hips up, which leads to him moaning louder for you to do it again, and again, essentially fucking yourself both on your boyfriend’s tongue, and his candy. 

In the heat of the moment, you finally find your grip in his hair, pulling it so tightly between your fingers that you know it’s hurting him, but he seems to like it. Another secret of his, you guess, as you keep doing that, pulling his hair, riding up against the pleasure he’s offering, and then– god the fucking ears. 

So cute on a man doing something so filthy and messy. You can’t hold it, you just–

“Fuck, keep going–” You stutter out in time with your hips, jerking back and forth both towards and away from him. “Right there,”

Jay is beyond pleased knowing he can make you cum this way. It wasn’t exactly in the plan to fuck his girlfriend like this tonight, but he’s glad he did. Especially seeing you chase the pleasure like this. He’s quick to maintain his rhythm, pushing the lollipop in right at the perfect angle, lips and tongue vibrating against your clit in a way that forces your hips forward, unmoving, stiff and you release. 

He can feel it, that sticky sweet slick dripping out of you, pulsing with each rush of pleasure. It takes everything in him not to abandon your clit and drink it all up, but he’s stronger than (barely). He’s good to you, waiting until that grip in his hair finally loosens before–

You’re pulling twice as hard at it now. Feeling the way he gives you no seconds to recover. He’s immediately pushing his face back down, licking everything that’s dripped out of you and letting it slide down his throat before finally pulling the lollipop out of you.

And he continues to lick, and lick, and lick, sucking and still fucking you with his tongue, lollipop gripped in his hand, pressing it against your thigh as if it’s forgotten about.

You try to wiggle away from him, the sensitivity too much from the image of him going feral, to the way he’s licking inside of you, to the forceful push of his nose right against your sensitive clit. And it’s so fucking crazy too, the way you’re still throbbing, the way you feel a second orgasm coming far too soon to the point you know it’ll hurt. 

You grip at his hair again, accidentally unclipping one of his ears as you have to force him to come up for air. More for your sake, in all honesty, but fuuuuck, it’s hard to hold him here with the way he’s looking at you now.

Lost, confused, even a bit…insane.

“I can’t–”

He tries to push back down, tongue falling out of his mouth when you keep that grip in his hair. 

“Jay, It hurts.”

“Fuck, baby,” He starts in an out of breath groan, totally forgetting about the nearly-disintegrated lollipop as it drops to the floor. “Just really, really need it right now.” 

In that action, you see Jay act more desperate than he ever has, grabbing you by the ankles and pulling you further down, forcing your legs open despite the sensitivity. You swear you hear him purr when he looks between your legs, witnessing a wet mess of sweetness, only to see even more the truth of his words now. 

You see the truth of how badly he needs it in the way he takes that sticky hand of his and pushes it down his pants, not even unbuttoning them before aggressively palming against himself, panting out for you to give him more. 

God. You think you might be in love with this guy. Too soon.

Too fucking soon.

What does it matter if you’re sensitive? Fucking look at him. He’s dying for it.

And so, you spread your legs wider, embarrassingly wiggling down to lock your legs around your sweet, black-cat of a boyfriend who can’t stop furiously jerking off. 

“Take it then.” You coo out, wiggling your open cunt right in front of his lap.

He doesn’t take his time either, shoving his too-tight pants down his thighs, shifting onto his knees, and immediately stuffing his cock into that same sugary slick. He holds his breath at first before releasing an insanely broken moan at the grip of your cunt around him.

The moan nearly sounds like he’s in pain, muttering half-words that can’t articulate a damn meaning even if he tried. Totally lost in the tightness, he barely notices you wrapping your legs around his waist, suffering through the way he knows he’s big, and ignoring how usually he always takes it slow so you can adjust. 

Not this time. No, you feel each pulse try to rip your hole just to accommodate the thickness he offers. And he just moans more at the way you wince, practically drooling on yourself as you clench, and squeeze, and hold onto him as if you’ll fall off the face of the earth if you were to let go. 

His mind is clear enough to hold you in return though, only because he knows it’s about to hurt more before it starts feeling better for you. Unfortunately, his mind is also just foggy enough to give you the short relief of his thick cock leaving you, only to slam in again, harder. 

You cry out at it, nails nearly digging straight through his shirt as you instinctively try to hold onto him through the pain. He soothes you through each pleasurable sound. Out-of-breath hums and moans right in your face when he presses his forehead to yours, each painful thrust followed with a compliment and a grunt. 

“So good, baby, so–” 

“You’ve taken it so many times before, fuck, just a bit more–” 

“Just relax. Please, baby, I know it hurts.”

Eventually, your body does relax, accommodating his size and painful plunges into you. Up until the rhythm is natural and the slapping of where your bodies meet sounds like nothing but a pornographic mess of pleasure. 

Both of you now losing it, you let Jay be the one to take it. You let him fuck freely, as hard as he wants, as loud as he wants up until you’ve had at least two more orgasms and you’re barely able to open your eyes, better yet function.

You don’t know where he got this stamina, considering most nights when you’re together it’s a one and done thing. Then again, most nights he doesn’t fuck you with halloween candy, eat it out of you, then fuck it back into you. 

When he finally reaches his climax though. Oh, oh god. You think you might’ve let the word “love” slip from your slack lips upon feeling his cum inside of you, pumping out and filling you up beyond what’s normal for him. 

You wonder if that little slip of words made him last longer, because goddamn did he hold you closer, and fuck did he kiss you like he never has before through the orgasm.

And when it’s all said and done, the two of you are left out of breath, a sticky mess of pink-tinted cum, salty sweat, and nearly bruised lips. You’d say it should be embarrassing to walk out of whoever’s room this is, but you actually find yourself giggling into your boyfriend’s side during the walk of shame. 

Mostly because you left the room together to find an entire circle of people outside of the door, presumably listening in. Which is…yeah, they’re weirdos. Then again, the two of you didn’t really make it into the room before all of this started. You guess you’d probably listen too if someone was getting fucked against a door.

The giggling though, that comes from learning who owns the bedroom you just got candy-fucked in. His wide eyes narrowing upon witnessing who was in there is probably the funniest thing you’d seen all night. 

Poor Sunghoon. You’d have cleaned up the mess if your legs were working properly.

But they’re not, so, good luck to him, you guess.

[ireneispunk]

Duty

Jacaerys Velaryon x female reader smut

After a rough start to your marriage, whispers from the palace cause you and your betrothed to start what you should have done months ago; produce an heir.

w.c: 1487

c.w: SMUT 18+, NO use of Y/N, not exactly enemies but y'all beefing, hate sex (if you squint, but more like dislike sex and its more just sass idfk), mention of pregnancy, breeding kink, afab reader, p in v sex, fingering, overstimulation, pls let me know if i've missed any

a.n: so i recently watched the queen charlotte bridgerton spin off and i absolutely loved it, this is very inspired by charlotte and george's earlier dynamic tee hee.

Four months and 3 days. That is how long it has been since your wedding, and how long you have loathed your husband. The two of you were not exactly close before your betrothal on account of the rapidness of it but the tensions that spread between parts of his family did not help. You both seem to fight every conversation you had thereafter, so it became easier to avoid each other. That was until around 3 months into your betrothal that questions of when you would need your dresses altering had you worried. You were supposed to making heirs but you both exploded whilst in the same room as each other.  You’d visited the prince in his separate room and communicated the issue, he was reading by the fire. You played with your fingers in your hands as he eyed the flaw, thinking intently. He placed his book face down on the table as he petted the bench beside him. You hesitated for a moment, before sitting next to him. “Once a week, we will fulfil our, uh, duty to try and produce an heir. Once you are with child we will stop.” You thought for a moment, before nodding. You couldn’t help but feel your heart sink. This was not what you had wished for in your marriage. Jacaerys was a painfully handsome man, dark curls that framed he chiselled features.

“It is the end of the week today, your grace.” You spoke, not fully considering the implications of the statement. But the quicker your belly was full the better.

He turned to you, hesitated for a moment before moving closer to you and pulled you onto his lap. You were surprised by the sudden closeness of someone, let alone your husband. He looked up from beneath you with a glimmer of what he had on your wedding night, without the naïve hope. His hands slid up from your hips to the bust of your dress, he looked into your eyes before giving the bodice of your dress a quick tug down allowing your breast to spill out. You gasped as his hands cupped over your breasts, massaging them before running a thumb over your nipple. You brought your bottom lip between your teeth as you felt a warmth spread over your body. You didn’t dare look him in the eye, keeping your eyes shut or trained on the ceiling. You felt as one hand left your breast and hike up your dress further up your hips. He sighed to himself slightly, at the sight of your exposed cunt. He could not believe his luck the first time he had saw you. You were quite possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and unfortunately that did not change the more you both disliked each other. If anything, it grew. Seeing you from across the room at formal engagements, gluing to his side when you needed to seem like the happy couple. It made the frustrations between the two of you even more palpable over the past few months, given the lack of relief. You opened your eyes to see his dark eyes looking up at you. He brought his two first fingers up to your lips, “Open.” His soft tone contradicted the demand and look upon his face. His fingers slid into your mouth, gliding across your tongue as you closed your lips around them. Out of sheer lust you grinded your hips against him, needing to feel some release and gaining small jolt at the feeling of your cunt rubbing against his clothed cock. His free hand shot to your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh. He removed his fingers from your mouth, admiring his spit covered fingers for a moment before they reached between your thighs and lightly grazed across your clit. You jolted, leaning forward to grip the bench behind him.

You could not stop the moan that escaped your mouth as his fingers slowly ran circles across your clit. He smirked as the noises that fell from your lips, knowing how much you couldn’t bare to be around him but fell apart in his arms was a satisfying feeling.  “I did not know you were so needy, dear wife.” The honorific felt like a pin prick. Insincere and laced with sarcasm.

Despite the tightening growing in your stomach, you could not let him have the final word as usual. “You hadn’t been paying close enough attention, your grace.” A flash of frustration flashed upon his face as his hand moved to grip your hair and fingers plunged inside of you. A gasp left you as his fingers thrusted deep inside of your cunt, you had gone from strolling towards an orgasm to being thrown at it. The tips of his fingers curled slightly, deliciously massaging that spot inside your pussy that drove you wild. You jaw fell open, eyes going wide at the loss of contact when he removed his fingers from you. You went to protest before seeing his cock in his hands, brows furrowed as he stroked the length.

You couldn’t hold off any longer before you took a hold of his wrists and pushed his hands away to his sides. You took his cock into your hand giving it a few pumps, watching an expression of lust spread across his face. You leaned over slightly, letting a ball of spit leave your lips and watch as it slid down his cock. He hissed, returning his hands to your hips pulling you closer to him. You took the hint, angling his cock towards your pussy, rubbing the tip over your clit for your own pleasure a few times, before lining him up and sliding down slowly, a large groan left his lips as be bottomed out inside of you. You had forgotten just how big his cock was, and just how good it had felt filling you up. You began to raise your hips up and down, moans leaving your lips as you did. You worked at a steady pace but after being accustomed to his hands began to push up and down with the movements of your hips moving you faster. Your fingernails dug into his shoulders as he pounded into you, no matter how much your stifled your moans, you gave him the satisfaction of them loudly leaving your lips. His hand reached up to yours, removing it from his shoulders and moving your fingers between your legs. You immediately got his instruction, fingers latching onto your clit. You worked tight circles into it as you got filled over and over with Jacaerys’ cock. A familiar tightness returned to your stomach as your head dropped back and numerous illicit words left your lips. Recognising your peak, he pulled you forward by your thighs, almost pressing your bodies against each other as he quickened his pace. Your orgasm cascaded over you, feeling your pussy tighten around Jacaerys’ cock and your body buzz from the overstimulation. You rode out your high atop of him, watching as his eyes screwed shut and his thrusts became sloppier.

You took the opportunity to return your knees to the bench either side of him and bob your hips up and down as fast as you could. His fingers reached the lip of the bench gripping it until his knuckles turned white. “Mmm, my grace,” You moaned out. His eyes shot open, his heart pounding at your remark. “Please fill me with your seed.” You pleaded and moaned, half doing it for a reaction, half because it felt too good. His jaw hung open in shock for a split second before he sputtered a moan from his lips, hips snapping into yours. You felt satisfied as a warmth filled your pussy. Your hips moved slightly, slowly thrusting his cock inside of you still. His hand shot to your hip, mumbling something, before you placed your hand flat across his chest. You bobbed a few more times on his cock, being sure to be as full as possible with his cum. You smirked to yourself seeing his head throne back, lip quivering, veins prominent in his hands gripping your waist, sweaty curls sticking to his neck. You slowly raised yourself off of his cock, standing to your feet and trying to mask your wobbliness as adjusting your dress.

You stole a glance his way, admiring his beauty before he spoke and ruined it. He panted through his mouth, arms outstretched over the sides of the bench. You smirked to yourself, admiring how he too had crumbled for you. The opening of his doorhandle caused him to call your name from behind you. You glanced at him and smiled. “Goodnight your grace, see you in seven eves’.” He opened his mouth to response, but you had already shut the door behind you. You hoped it would be sooner before he fucked you again.

[thebreakfastgenie]

This is going to get me screencapped and ridiculed by leftblr but at this point I don't care.

The way people talk about Ruth Bader Ginsburg is misogynistic. This post is not about the merits of her decision to remain in her seat. I've discussed that before and I'm happy to go through it again with anyone who is genuinely interested in the complexities of that situation, but for the sake of this post, I am not arguing that it's unreasonable to believe, with the benefit of hindsight, that the country would be a in a better position today if Ginsburg had retired in 2012. The issue I want to address is how people talk about it.

People who blame Ginsburg for the current state of the Supreme Court tend to throw around words like greedy, selfish, and ambitious, echoing a familiar form of misogyny. Ambition is only bad when women demonstrate it, and women in politics are regularly punished for ambition. Even more disturbingly, people tend to blame not just Ginsburg, but the women and girls who looked up to her. I've seen the "Notorious RBG" nickname derided as a cult of personality, when the reality is that Ruth Bader Ginsburg was a trailblazer and a role model to a lot of women and girls. I've seen leftists try to hide behind valid criticisms of some of Ginsburg's positions (and it should, but doesn't, go without saying that you can see someone as a role model without believing they are correct about every issue all the time) but you barely have to scratch the surface to see that the real complaint is that they think women who admire her are cringe. I don't know if people understand how significant she was; she was only the second woman on the Supreme Court and the first, Sandra Day O'Connor, was a conservative Reagan appointee. Even so, Justice O'Connor spoke about the significance of Justice Ginsburg joining her and reality that women faced in their position being more apparent when she could see it happening to someone else. It's the same old anti-feminist story of dismissing women and their desires.

This particular case rankles me because it's underscored by the complete silence about Anthony Kennedy. Ruth Bader Ginsburg made a judgment call about her health that didn't work out--and barely; she died four months before Trump left office. Anthony Kennedy, a supposed moderate justice who claimed to not want Roe v Wade to be overturned, retired in 2018, knowing full well Trump would replace him with someone who would overturn Roe v Wade. It was Kennedy's replacement, not Ginsburg's, that doomed Roe. The decision was 6-3. If Ginsburg had lived four more months, or retired in 2012 and been replaced with an Obama appointee, the Dobbs v Jackson decision would have been 5-4 in the same direction. Anthony Kennedy was replaced with Brett Kavanaugh, a white man who sobbed crocodile tears when confronted with credible allegations of sexual assault and ultimately faced no consequences. Anthony Kennedy let all of this happen and slunk off into his cushy retirement. Where is the anger for him? He's alive! Being angrier at Ginsburg than Kennedy makes absolutely no sense. There is no logic to explain it, only misogyny.

It doesn't escape my notice that the anger at Ginsburg goes hand-in-hand with blaming women for their own suffering as a result of the Dobbs decision and with blaming Hillary Clinton for the 2016 election, while making any excuse for not voting for her or deriding her for months. It's emblematic of a political system that does not care about women and despises women trying to speak up and make our issues known.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Winter (Cregan Stark x Reader)

Summary: As a Princess, you aren’t used to rejection. But Cregan, your husband, has vowed to only ever love one woman, and it isn't you. Right?

Warnings: Mature language. Grief. Toddlers. Unreliable narrators. Miscommunication.

A/N: I was so excited about this chapter! These scenes are the ones I wrote first. Also, the biggest hug to anyone who is reading this. I had not expected the amount of love my first chapter got, and I am so grateful!

THERE WAS AN old northern superstition —more like an old wives’ tale, really— that said if there was snow on the wedding day, the marriage was doomed to be a cold one.

It hadn’t been snowing the day Cregan had married you, but his marriage was proving to be icier than the lands beyond the wall. You weren’t interested in spending time with him at all, and you actively tried to avoid him. He had tried to convince you to share rooms, trying to foster some intimacy, to no avail.

Cregan had hoped that if not a loving wife, he would get a caring mother to Rickon. The boy was too small to grow without one, not yet having reached his third nameday. But you hadn’t shown interest in that either. Instead, you pretended the two of them didn’t exist.

He would like to say that the days went on the same way they did before he wed you, but it would be a lie. Winterfell ran much better now there was a lady present. Cregan had been wrong about you. It seemed like you could run a keep, and you did so with ruthless efficiency.

The castle had never been warmer, the meals so well planned. Even the servants seemed happy, now that they didn’t have to follow Cregan’s too broad instructions. It seemed that asking them to clean and cook was a little too vague for their tastes.

As for you, grief still followed you around, like a too long shadow that refused to budge even in the face of Winterfell’s brightest light. Sara had befriended you, with little success. While you had been far more welcoming to her, you still looked constantly tired and sad.

The lack of sunlight had made you lose your southron tan, leaving you with a look of quiet frailty that made Cregan want to wrap you in a thousand blankets and keep you safe. He just was unsure of the execution.

You scared him. He was man enough to admit it. People were often afraid of things they didn’t understand, and Cregan was no exception. You were made of absolute ice. There was no better description. Cold, but as fragile as glass.

He was running out of ideas on how to bond with you. Invitations to tea were denied, nor did you want to ride with him to see his tenants. You seemed at ease enough around Sara, and some other northern ladies, so social interaction wasn’t what you disliked. It was him.

Never had Winterfell’s corridors been filled with so many women. The northern lords already called you Queen Alysanne’s second coming, with your all female court. The only thing missing was your husband. You didn’t have Cregan’s ear, simply because you didn’t wish to. He would support your endeavors if you asked him to. He had offered his help with your attempts to establish a charity, since the North didn’t have Septas to take care of it, but you had proudly rebuffed him.

There was no pleasing you. He was at his wits’ end. Hence, the awful choice he had made that day.

To try to force you to be in his company.

“Why are you ordering my servants around?” You complain, barging into his chambers. While usually the kitchens were the domain of the Lady of the household, Cregan didn’t know you took it so seriously. “Do you not think me capable enough?”

“I do!” Cregan sits up in his bed, bewildered. He had given the orders around lunchtime, hoping you would not find out, yet here you were, less than half a day later. Far more soon than he had expected. “I just want to throw a feast to honor you.”

“You intend to honor me by giving me more work?” You place your hands on your hips, highlighting your figure, and Cregan is but a man. He cannot help himself, his eyes lingering for a second too long, and his brain coming with no response to your statement.

You seem to take his silence for affirmation.

“Seriously? Do you at least have a guest list?”

And your tone is so haughty, your words betraying you believe Cregan to be an absolute imbecile, he cannot help but give a heated retort.

“Of course I have. Truly, I am more than capable of organizing it on my own. Arra let me do it a few times, and I was unmarried for quite a while. I am experienced enough to…”

It is the wrong thing to say. You bare your fangs then, and Cregan has a moment of absolute and utter clarity. You are not a seahorse. Such a puny creature could never hope to deliver the utter destruction that you cause with your next words.

“Yes, and your precious Arra is dead! She is gone! Why can’t you understand it?” You turn on your heel, face absolutely thunderous, and go to rush out of his chambers.

Cregan loses his head fully, then. He grabs you by the arm, hard enough to hurt, and forces you to face him. For a frightening moment, he fears himself. Fears the wolf, the one screaming for him to strike you and remind you of your place.

How dare you come in his chambers, uninvited, after rejecting all his offers of companionship, to lecture him on grief? As if he could forget Arra was dead. It wasn’t so long ago that Rickon cried for his mother still, unable to understand why he didn’t have one. It wasn’t so long ago that Sara had to take over the role of Lady of the House, and suffered mockery from it. And it wasn’t so long ago, Cregan woke with a scream choked in his throat, reliving that awful morning in every dream he had.

He still did, sometimes. Less, now that he had more urgent matters to occupy himself with. Cregan was ashamed to admit it, but before Jacaerys and your arrival here, Winterfell had been far too empty to keep the ghosts away.

Now, with the war, and the flurry of activities that seemed to follow you, Cregan had little time to dwell much in his dark thoughts. Throwing himself into his work had allowed him to begin healing a wound he wasn’t even aware existed.

And wasn’t that a terrible thought? That Cregan was a man who thrived on war and hunger? Winter was coming, after all. It wouldn’t catch him unprepared.

He had sworn a vow to protect you. As long as Jacaerys had no children, you were third in line to the Iron Throne. To think of hurting you was not only to think of staining his honor, but to think of treason.

Cregan holds you there for a second longer, curious about your reaction. His grip must be bruising on your arm, he can feel the delicate bones under your flesh shift with how hard he is holding you. Yet, you show no fear. Your hands are balled into fists.

Were he to strike, you would strike back. Your face is the very picture of anger, your body coiled and ready to tear him apart.

He throws the feast. You sit next to him in icy silence and somehow manage to speak and dance with all the guests but him.

Cregan does no longer dream of trying to hunt a seahorse. Instead, he sees the world at a much lower angle than usual, and runs for his life. Somehow, in the dream, he knows a dragon is hunting him.

OF COURSE IT is today. The only day you actually wish your Lord Husband to be in the castle, and he is not.

You had spent many of your days fervently praying for him to leave on an errand, and yet, the day he does, you cannot even enjoy it.

Because the boy has gotten sick. And look, you have visited the nursery before, it is a part of your duties. You also cannot deny that you had been curious about the tiny version of your husband that will inherit everything.

The boy is cute, you suppose. In the manner all babes are. He is well-behaved, and quiet, and takes well to his teachings, even if they involve only naming things aloud.

Had you not hardened your heart to it already, you would want one of your own. You know, though, that their only inheritance will be tears and petty squabbles over land, so it’s best they are not born at all. It had been so between your husband’s father and uncle, and it was being so between your mother and your uncle Aegon.

The only assurance a woman has in a life spent as little more than property is her children. They are to inherit their father’s lands, and that is supposed to be enough. But for the second sons, said promise is always broken.

You had never, not once, thought you would come to understand Alicent, yet here you were.

You reflect on this as you hurry to the nursery, worried the damn boy will die before you reach it. When you get there, you feel the urge to scream. There is not one, but three serving girls hovering by the door, and the Maester is mixing some herbs in a chalice.

The child sleeps peacefully, unaware the surrounding turmoil. He looks impossibly small in his bed of furs, shirt open and chest covered in strange poultices. The boy… No, Rickon, had taken ill after the first snow. Perhaps he had been spending too much time playing outside, or he lingered too much in his wet clothes. You wouldn't know. You tried to avoid him as much as you could.

After this was over, you would have a stern talk with his maids. They shouldn’t be this careless. This was your husband’s heir. Someone had to care about him.

Not you. Never you.

“Will he be alright?” You ask, as the Maester places a wet cloth on his forehead. You have never liked children, never having had the chance to be one yourself. Your mother’s constant quest for the Iron Throne and her love for Daemon had often left you in the hands of the help. And when you were old enough, you had to take the role of the mature sibling alongside Jacaerys, helping raise your brothers.

Jacaerys. You hoped that wherever he was, he was suffering. You despised this place, and he had dared plot with your mother behind your back to get you here. With your beast of a husband, and this child of a previous marriage, whose existence would forever ensure your future children would inherit nothing.

You weren’t going to have children. Despite loving children, you despise your husband too much to ever lay with him. But most of all, you are beginning to fear you will become a damn Hightower. You feared that if you had children and faced the prospect of them only being second sons, you might be tempted to start a war too.

“He will, Princess.” The Maester, unaware of your inner turmoil, places a reassuring hand on your arm. He surely believes in the gentle hearts of women, or some nonsense like that. “The fever will lower with the tea we gave him, and the cool cloth on his forehead. His lungs are strong. He will breathe normally soon.”

The boy’s chest flutters oddly. His ribs show with each inhale, depicting his trouble breathing. You cast a dubious look at the cool cloth. If this was all they could do, it was no wonder your grandfather had been rotting alive.

“Is that all you have to say? Why do his ribs show?” You do your best to channel your mother, tone imperious. “If this is truly…” Before you can insult him by calling him the worst the Citadel has to offer, a boy comes in. You let out a sigh of relief, your desire to berate the Maester subsiding. It’s the same boy you had sent to Castle Cerwyn to retrieve your husband.

“Princess!” He says, extending a hand to you. Much to your astonishment, he hands back the message you had sent to Lord Cregan. “I have grievous news. The road to Castle Cerwyn is fully blocked. I couldn’t get past the river. I cannot go over it either and avoid the forest, for it is not fully frozen.”

“This cannot be!” You say, crossing your arms over your chest. Cursed your husband, and his plans to visit the Cerwyns’ tenants today, of all days. “You have to get Lord Cregan. Send a more experienced rider.”

“My lady, I would advise not to.” The Maester says, meekly. “Even if the rider does manage to get past, it is very likely Lord Stark is in the village, snowed in.”

“Well, then send a damn search party!” You yell, uncaring your language is unbecoming of a Princess. You cannot be here while the child… While Rickon dies. The child has a parent, and it is your husband, you do not even care for him!

“It is not as simple.” The Maester cringes when you turn on him.

“Of course it isn’t. The only simple thing is the cure for the child’s malady, isn’t it?” You growl. “Do something useful, if you think a rider cannot reach my husband. Get me someone who can, and fix the boy.”

It would be easier for you if the boy died. You could have the children you so craved. The obstacle would have removed itself. Relationships between half brothers are never as strong as between full ones. At the very least, this child could cast out you and any children you birth when Lord Cregan passes. At the very worst, he might have them killed, as your mother intended with her usurper brother.

But you are not so craven as to let an innocent die. He is still a boy, no older than three namedays. He is vulnerable, and his father is not here.

You sit next to the bed, eyes fixed on his chest. Rickon will not die on your watch.

THE SOUND OF a door opening jerks you awake. Disoriented, you sit up on your chair, and check that Rickon still breathes.

He does. He has awakened with the sound of the door opening, just as you did. But unlike you, he has begun wailing. You get him. You would like to cry too.

“What is it?” You snarl at the serving girl who dared enter in such a manner. The sound of Rickon’s cries grate in your ears, shrill and loud, awakening you fully. You try to coax him into laying back down to no avail.

“Milady…” She stammers, holding a breakfast tray. The reason for her interruption becomes clear. Had it been so long already? You remembered standing vigil over Rickon until sundown, and changing the cool compress a few times after, but no further. By the Seven, you were a terrible caretaker. “I… There are…”

Rickon wails harder.

“Father! Father, want father!” He cries. He then attempts to remove the cool cloth from his forehead, and get up, escaping the furs laid over him.

The serving girl stares at the boy. You stare at her. Rickon continues to squirm. When it is clear she is expecting you to soothe him, you sigh and turn to the child.

“Rickon, you have to lay down again.”

“Father! Father!” He wails, face beginning to turn red, his breathing labored. You are unsure if it is his distress or the sickness, but it worries you nonetheless. The child cannot die. You are not prepared to deal with it.

“Shh, Rickon, I know you are hurting.” You tell him, as you pick him up. “Father is not here. He is trapped by the snow.”

At this, he cries harder. You can hear him gasping for air as he squirms in your arms and kicks at you. His snot is getting everywhere. Good Gods, what if he dies? Would your husband actually force you consummate the marriage if he loses his heir? The thought alone is enough to force you into action.

“He is not trapped. He is snowed in, just as when you cannot go out and play. Happens all the time.” You reassure him, rubbing his back. You know your words to be a lie, but the boy doesn’t. The weather has been especially rough this season. The snow storm is unusual in its fierceness. “He will be back soon.”

Rickon perks up at that.

“He will?”

“As soon as he can.” You promise, hoping it is the case. In truth, you do not know. Your husband is unaware Rickon is ill, and holds no fondness for you. You doubt he will be rushing once the road clears. In fact, you think he might be celebrating the weather and praising his northern gods for the excuse to get a respite from you.

Well, too bad. You would send men each hour to check if the storm waned and the road was accessible once more. He would have to come and tend to his child.

“Where is father?” Rickon asks you, a suspicious look in his little face. He is eerily similar to your husband. His sobs have turned more subdued.

“With Lord Cerwyn.”

“Why? Hurts! Father!” The boy demands, petulantly. He is clearly feeling better if his lungs allow him to shriek like that. You are no healer, but his agitation is worrying you. What if he has a fit because he overexerted himself and then dies?

“I want your father too.” You mutter under your breath. “You do not see me wailing.”

“I love father.” He sobs. “Want him.”

And you are not made of stone. You have never been, no matter how hard you pretend. He is still a babe, hands chubby, face round. He still smells like one, a mix of the nursery, and sweet innocence.

Without even realizing it, you have cradled him into your arms and begun rocking the two of you. He keeps wailing, so you begin singing.

“I loved a maid…” There is no need to be a good singer to soothe babies. You are unsure of what they like about it, but you know it works. It had worked for Aegon and Viserys, why not for Rickon? “As fair as summer, who had sunlight in her hair….”

You begin to rock him as you pace through the room. As his tears begin to subside, and he begins to grow curious about the soft song, you realize he is not the threat to your future children you had envisioned. Rickon is beautiful in the manner all babes are, soft and sweet. His little fists cling to your wool cloak, gray eyes meeting yours with fascination.

Charmed by him, you keep singing. Seasons of my love is enlarged and repeated ten times over, and now includes verses about northern babies who look exactly like their father.

“I loved a boy…” You hum, softly. It feels like hours have passed when Rickon’s eyes finally begin to drop. Of course he would enjoy the verses about winter the most. “As white as winter, with moonglow in his hair.”

The door opens, slowly. You hear the wood groan as it does, but Rickon takes no notice. He burrows his head next to your heart, yawning.

You turn to look at the newcomer, pleased that having put the fear of the gods into the maid who had dared enter before had proven fruitful. The pleased smile drops from your face when you realize it is your husband.

Lord Stark is drenched to the bone. His hair is stuck to his head and shoulders, dripping water onto his furs. The cloak he had worn is wet, and he is quick to remove it, leaving him in simple breeches and a jerkin. His face is the picture of worry.

“I rode as hard as I dared.” His voice is low, pleasantly so. You had never considered the northern accent he sported attractive, but when his voice is gruff, and pitched low, you might see the appeal. “How is he?”

He shouldn’t have bothered with the low tone. Rickon would recognize his voice everywhere because he perks up considerably.

“Father! Father!” Rickon claps. He attempts turning in your grip to look at your husband, which makes you fear he might fall, so you perch him on your hip so he can do so.

“The fever has broken.” You hand Rickon back to him, feeling a hint of embarrassment when his eyes linger on the way you had been holding him. “He’ll live.”

“Thank you.” And his voice is earnest and soft, and it makes you wonder what he sees when he looks at you. Is it her still? Does Arra Norrey stand in this room with you, too?

The embarrassment from earlier, and the anger at the thought of your husband being soft because you remind him of her make you snap at him.

“It’s fine. I missed my siblings.” You cross your arms over your chest, awkward. Why does he keep staring at you? Is he… Oh, by the Seven, he is smiling at you? So softly? You cannot stand it. “I will send for a bath for you and Rickon, after washing myself. Less I catch a cold too.”

Look, princesses do not flee. They simply walk hurriedly. Very hurriedly.

[trulyumai]

jealousy within

—: pairing - caracalla / wife! reader

—: synopsis - all you wanted was to mingle, dance a little and talk to someone who wouldn’t yell or berate you. You hadn’t meant to anger your husband, or cause the death of an innocent man.

—: warnings: anger, violence, talk of death, gutting, grabbing.

You didn’t mean to upset him, not really.

Making an already emotional— somewhat unstable, emperor jealous wasn’t the smartest move. But it was the one you chose and decided to execute.

Of course, festivities began quite early. Caracalla himself had arranged the time, the place. Geta didn’t have the energy to spare to fight about such things, he only nodded along with a tight lipped smile, eyes glancing from his boasting brother, to you, always quiet, always watching.

And that’s where it really began, with you, watching. Seeing Caracalla mingle and dance with these strangers— claiming that they adore him, honor him. It was a farce, almost everyone was scared of the short haired ginger, more so than geta at times. He would flick his temper on and off with a quick switch— almost was an impressive feat until a vase would find its way smashed into your backside.

All you wanted was to join. Have a dance or talk of your own, it didn’t occur to you that Caracalla would be watching, sizing you up and down or threateningly pushing past other citizens to get a glimpse of you dancing with the happy stranger.

“It would be my honor, my lady.” The man’s hand, from who you signaled to earlier and approached, reached out for you, happily accepting your request in mingling, not even bothering to question such a request.

For who would deny their empress a dance?

“You look lovely today, my empress,” holding onto the softly robed man, you laughed. “Wanna know something?” Hearing a hum, you continued. “I think you’re the first to compliment me tonight.”

The man let out a low pitched gurgle, shock filled the spaces of his face before words overtook him. “That musnt be,”

Others danced around you, giggling and enjoying the carefree scene.

“It is!”

“Then they are all fools, my lady. For you look absolutely radiant tonight.”

You would have replied politely, if not for the voice of your husband cutting through the space.

“She does, doesn’t she?” It was almost painful— how quick your neck snapped back to look at the man.

“My liege!” The man seized back, arms now deflated at the sides while a sweat dotted across his brow. “It’s an honor to see you so—“

“An honor, Really?” Caracallla wasn’t known for his patience, it was becoming obvious of such a thing. A wide grin had spread across his face, a golden tooth gleamed against the candlelight and wild hair splayed around the golden robes he chose for tonight’s banquet.

“An honor that must be, to dine in my halls, eat by my side and court my woman!”

“N-No, your majesty I wouldn’t dare!”

Caracalla tssked, slow and mockingly. A hand guided its way to your back, until it slithered around the bend of your waist. “I wonder… are you as good at fighting as you are with running your mouth?”

“I—I am no fighter, my— my liege, but an apprentice for Sir Tomund.”

Loud and harsh, the shorter emperor called out. “Sir tomund!”

A skinny, scrawny man with more wrinkles than hair pushed his way through the gawking citizens.

Answering with only a raise to the head, Caracalla went on. “Would you be utterly ruined if, let’s say your, “esteemed,” apprentice found a new way of living?”

The elder man wanted no trouble, especially from the likes of a man such as Caracalla. Unpredictably was the game and only he could play it so well. There would be no winner but the ginger haired emperor.

“No, your grace. I would find another.”

Caracallas grip left you, both hands were now splayed out in front of him as if he was welcoming a deity into his arms.

“Just as I thought. Come, little apprentice, the guards will show you to your new quarters!”

Now desperate the man moved closer, his eyes wide with newfound fear, tears began to gather at the crevice of his lids.

He was utterly terrified.

“Please—no! My lady, say something, please!”

All eyes now soaked up your figure. Standing just beside your husband, wringing your hands in a nervous motion. “I—I,” with so many eyes upon you, anxiety creeped up your spine with a slow, cold drag.

Caracalla awaited your answer, almost wanting to open your mouth for you and claw out the words himself. Gods how he hated waiting, especially for such trivial things that were destined for death anyway.

“What she means to say,” butting in, the Emperor cackled to himself, thinking of a new way to torture the boundary stepping man.

“Is, you have two choices. You can fight in the ring—die an honorable death!” Cheers and hollers cried out, signaling the love of the coliseum.

“Or you can die here, tonight. Be gutted by me and mopped up for everyone to see.”

Bringing a hand up to his chest, you lightly pushed against it, garnering the attention of the babbling man— If only for a second.

“My love, he didn’t mean it. Please, let’s just retire for the night, leave this nonsense alone—

“Retire?! After he touched you, whispered those honey dew words into your ear like he had the right!” A fire was lit in the emperors eyes, one you had seen many times before.

Such a flame was only lit by the promises of blood. Caracalla had already made his decision; the stranger was to die.

It would be your fault.

“Please, please no, I never meant for this!” No matter how much the man wailed and cried out, the guards were already signaled for. There steps were heavy and calculated, only stopping mere inches from you and the emperor.

“Seize him.”

“No!” Grabbing the man, they pushed him to his knees, scraping the flesh against the concreted floors. They didn’t move or flinch when the stranger rebelled against them— shoving and pushing his way towards potential freedom.

But no matter how much the man fought, the guards gripped remained.

His fate remained.

Turning, Caracalla hummed to himself, he found the corner of the room, where dormant spears and swords lay for customary shows and fights that get displayed in the hall.

With a finger on one of the old handles, his hands tightened around the blade. It lifted easily against the strength, pulling out of the sheath with a gleaming glow.

Caracalla turned again, only his eyes were on the clean weapon, in awe of its violent nature and sharpness.

“I want you to do it,” by the gods, surely he wasn’t serious. “I need to see you do it.” Your husband urged, practically pushing the blade in your shaking hands.

“Please,” he begged. With glossy eyes, caracalla finally looked at you, truly looked at you.

Only you could differentiate madness and desperation. Notice the way his skin got all clammy, notice how his lips couldn’t stop quivering.

He was just as scared as you, but for all the wrong reasons.

“Do this for me. Do this for me and I’ll know you weren’t lying. I can believe you!” He urged, already planting his palms upon your shoulders, facing you towards the downturned citizen.

It seems you just couldn’t catch a breath. Your chest heaved up and down, you felt so hot— so cold at the same time. The white robe clung to your skin with a purpose, making everything itchy and tight while a static shot up your back.

“Do it. Do it, pretty wife.” His voice was low now, lips brushing against your ear tentatively.

And so you did.

You swung for a critical spot. Hoping—praying the man wouldn’t have to suffer another blow.

A giggle, mean and high sounded out just by you, almost too loudly because of it’s proximity.

“Again!”

Swinging, your hair came undone. The once clean and elegant braids were now loose and unturned. With more and more swings, blood began to mat at the tips, spatters ran down your neck and arms, covering the majority of skin with a rich and thick maroon.

You must have blacked out after the fifth or sixth swing. Because when you came to, the crowd was gone. The body wasn’t in shambles in front of you, nor were you even in the same room.

A blackened chamber lay in front of you. Your body was tucked into a king sized bed and a cotton robe had entranced your being.

Startled by your sudden movement, a hand shot up from the bed, placing itself upon your tummy.

“What is it?” A groggy, deep voiced caracalla mumbled. His other hand rubbed against his closed eye, smudging the sleep from his vision.

“W—what?”

“Go back to sleep, wife, im too tired for these games today.” Flipping over, your husbands back now took up your sight. However he was still close, the back of his legs grazed against yours in habitual confidence.

With a hunched form you grabbed at your hair, searching for the remains of blood to coat your hands and memory. It didn’t. There was no stain to be seen, no red chunks to pull out and weep about.

And that would have eased your mind, relaxed your eyes just enough to find an ounce of sleep, if not for your occasional robes laying haphazardly on the marbled floors, caked in a dark— coagulated heap of blood.

[inkskinned]

it is the first snow today. i think we should all have off work, even though it didn't stick. i think there should be 4 national holidays, one for each season. happy first snow, go home and make cookies. for spring it can be the first crocus. for summer the first lightning bug. for autumn, the first golden leaf. go home, kiss your dog, feed your cat (who is absolutely already-fed but somehow still starving.)

i think we should all take more showers together, but i mean that in the soft way. i mean it like taking a nap. two years ago i had 5 adult friends in my queen bed, all of us laying across each other, head over belly over thigh over hand. any time one of us would giggle, it would ripple over each of us, like pulling on a spiderweb. kim actually needed to nap and didn't get to sleep and i am still sorry for it even though this is one of my most precious memories.

i think we should all wash each other's hair, i mean. i walk my dog and i watch someone put up twinkle lights around their front porch. alex and i just moved, and i love the neighborhood. already so many of our new neighbors have stopped by to say hello. the nice lady downstairs also collects plants, like me. she gave us her number on a pink post-it note. i am trying to decide whether to make her cookies or brownies.

i am going through a very hard time. something bad happened this weekend that i do not wish to discuss. it is hanging over me. i think of the green ribbon, and the woman who had her throat cut. it feels like that sometimes, inside of my body. like i am walking and talking despite being half-corpsed. like i am hanging on by a ribbon, standing on some kind of cusp. i keep saying - at least it wasn't worse. we are so lucky it wasn't worse. the idea is river-rock smooth now, all the edges worried off.

in this very dark night - the sun sets by 3 now - people don't need to, but they try anyway. they paint the missing light into things. i have an embarrassing number of missed calls and texts, but i feel the love from them nevertheless - hey. if you need something, i'm here. i will bring you food/puzzles/anything. i got you.

i think we should all have a big group chat where we do errands with strangers. this week i got lost in a home depot, which is wild because i'm a lesbian and we are actually hatched in a lowe's lumber section. there were two other women in the whole store. we ended up shopping together, at first by accident (we all needed things in the same aisle), and then because, well, why not. one of the ladies was taller than me, so she pulled down the screws i needed. i am agile and have the personality of a raccoon, so they sent me after anything below 3 feet. we talked about holiday plans and never learned each other's names, but did learn all the drama about each other's families.

i am making you cupcakes, because i have so much affection i want to pour it into batter. you ask me if i am eating enough per meal. i wrap your gift twice, trying to do it prettily. i get excited to give it to you, just because i hope you'll be excited too.

my parents drive an hour just to see the new apartment and to do the parent thing; standing in the kitchen saying things like "oh you'll get so much use from this dishwasher" and "well, you could paint that" and "when your mother and i moved it was uphill both ways and in a snowstorm and of course your brother was an infant." my mother brought me a plant for housewarming. i always say i love you before she leaves.

i play dnd on tuesdays still, after all these years. we all keep that night free. at one point, between grad school and marriage and all of it, we had to have a serious discussion about how to keep it running. we will keep going, we decided eventually. just to see each other, even if we don't play - you are all important to me. sebastian is not prone to affection but last night he stole my usual sign off - i love you all, be good, he said. he was laughing.

i don't love the winter, actually. i like snow in theory, but i grew up in the north, and am too-familiar with the season of "mud and sludge". i don't like being cold. but i do love something kind of soft and rare: every year around this time, people remember oh yes. you and i are human together. and i have love to spare.

it is the first snow, and something in my heart is finally warm again. i have spent what felt like the last 18 months just going-through-the-motions. it has felt blank and immediate, like i would never actually feel again. that sounds extremely trite and stupid - but that is the boring and familiar experience of depression. life just washes up against your windows, and you watch it happening. you see things that should be lovely and affecting, and it just whispers too-thin. i was desperately uncreative. uninterested in my hobbies. unimpressed by my writing. i told my therapist, often, i don't know how to find hope again.

almost sheepishly, something strange and lovely is burning in my chest. i keep not-looking at it, worried it will scamper back into the shadows again. it is skittish and wild, but it is so warm i want to sink my hands into its fur and feel it breathing. i love-hate it: if it's real, it can hurt me when it leaves again. but i am icarus-born, sun-lover and poet: i can't help myself. despite my best intentions, i am falling in love with life again.

i am planning to make cookies for my friends. alex and i are going to go christmas tree shopping. we picked out matching dish towels last night, and they have little mushrooms on them.

i love you. it does come back. yes, even after a long time. even for you. i promise. keep trying. you will wake up and it will be a day you can smile about.

write me when you get there. we will take the day off of work, and i will wash your hair, and we will both be laughing.

[genderqueerdykes]

Hello, my niece made this account for me and said I should submit my question to your blog. I’m terribly sorry if this doesn’t belong here. I turned 65 this year and have recently come to accept that I am gay. I have never been on a date with anyone in my life and have never had a social circle. I was only ever close to my brother and sister-in-law and their kids. I only came out to my niece because she’s 30 and bisexual and has been a safe person to talk to, but she has been trying to encourage me to go to a group that she has gone to before. It’s a group that meets at a coffee shop in our city and is for the local lgbtq community. Allies can attend so I don’t have to come out, but I’m scared I will want to. I feel too far past my time to join the community or have a “first boyfriend.” Am I too old for all of this?

this absolutely belongs here, i'm glad your niece helped you create an account here to get some advice, i'm actually really touched!! this warmed my heart a lot

you are DEFINITELY not too old for this!! no one is ever too old for community! elder queers are some of the most important members of our community- if anything, if you go, younger queer people will be over the moon to see someone your age, still identifying as queer, still living, still wanting to be yourself and to accept who you are. it's nerve wracking at first to think about. i joined my college's pride group when i was around 19 or so, and i was scared to death. i also felt like i didn't belong. i think a lot of queer people go through that, you are not alone! it's unfamiliar to you. you're taking a big step in life, change can be downright frightening even if it's what we want

i have met lots of people your age who did not realize they were gay, lesbian, trans, bi, or any other type of queer until much later in life! i've known trans men who didn't figure themselves out and start T until they were in their 70s! i met a trans woman last night who didn't realize she was trans until she turned 60! i think that coffee shop would be absolutely delighted to have you! you don't have to out yourself at all, but if you find yourself feeling comfortable enough to share, please feel free to. your story deserves to be heard. you deserve to be able to express yourself in a welcoming environment!

i hope you're able to go, i think that sounds like it would be very healing for you! i'm really proud of you for realizing who you are and accepting it, and i'm glad your niece is able to be there for you! i genuinely teared up reading this. you are a blessing on our community, not a burden. you will never be too old to be yourself, and surround yourself with people who get you. take care of yourself, okay? please feel free to stop by at any point! i am so happy for you and would love to hear how things go if you do decide to hang out at that coffee shop!

some wonderful additions:

[traveler-at-heart]

Hot and Cold

Summary: Natasha's playing with fire when a new resident joins the Compound.

A/N: Queen of Angst @esposadejoyhuerta asked for the fluffiest, sweetest, tooth rotting story ever and I was happy to deliver, even after they changed their request to inclue jealousy BECAUSE no one can stop me. Love ya, baby!

Another day, another mission. Since last week’s mess, it seems like Fury’s been finding ways to torture the team.

Yes, at the end they were able to retrieve the drive with the data of over twenty enhanced individuals. But so did HYDRA. And now the Avengers are on a race against time to locate them before the Russians do.

Natasha walks to Fury’s office, not excited at the prospect of risking her life to recruit people who didn’t really want to be found.

“Yes?” she says as soon as Fury turns around. He hands over a very heavy binder. “Is this their criminal record?”

Great, a weirdo with a troubled past. Natasha might not make it out alive.

“No, that’s their academic stuff. She’s a scientist. Crazy smart” Fury explains. “Have you heard of Bio-Thermokinesis?”

“No, not really”

“The ability to manipulate the body temperature of oneself and/or others” he recites, having learned the concept just now.

“That doesn’t sound so bad” Natasha says, closing the folder. It’s certainly better than the last few people she had to chase down.

“Yeah, until she induces a heat stroke or hypothermia” Fury scoffs. “We’ve been failing at recruiting these people. It would be nice to have a win. Plus, she could work in the lab with Banner and Stark”

“I don’t think Nerd Club is worth one’s freedom” Natasha mutters, skimming through the file.

“Well, either way, this mission doesn’t requires strenght. It requires charm. You up for it or should I send Hill?”

As Natasha gets to the picture of the target, she looks up.

“I’ll handle it”

—

As usual, you’re carrying more than you can possibly handle. Books, your laptop, a sandwich from the cafeteria, and correspondence from the main office.

By the time you manage to open the door to your office, half of the things in your arms are dangerously close to scattering across the hardwood floor.

“Oh, shit” you mutter when your keys drop.

“Need a hand?” a voice says and you jump back, the rest of your stuff flying across the room. 

“Uh… can I help you?” you say, because the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen is perched up on your desk, legs crossed and a playful smirk across her striking features.

“Are you Doctor Y/L/N?”

“Yes. How did you…? I’m pretty sure the door was locked” 

Is she a thief? You have absolutely nothing of value, at least not for a conventional burglar. You run every possibility in your mind and then you land on your second least favorite one.

Natasha notices the room getting warmer, probably because of how flustered you got. The file seems accurate regarding your power.

“AC broke down?” she asks innocently, undoing the top button of her shirt.

“Uh… I… I’ll open the window” you say, pushing it and leaning against the window pain. You consider jumping down to escape, but it’s a considerable height. You take a breath, deciding to face the matter head on. “So, which agency sent you?”

“Ever heard of S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“Yes, that was my first guess” you admit with a sad smile. “What can I do for you, Agent…?”

“Call me Natasha” she says, hopping off the desk. “I’m afraid I am the bearer of bad news… and a generous offer”

“Mmm” you nod, fixing your glasses. 

“A tactical team was sent to stop the purchase of confidential information for 30 enhanced individuals. We were able to obtain it… and so did HYDRA”

“Listen” you raise your hand, taking off your glasses and pinching the bridge of your nose. “I get it. HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D. know about me. The thing is, my power isn’t something you can leverage in a fight. I doubt they’ll be very interested in me”

“I think you’re wrong. And it’s not just your ability. Your expertise in science and your genetic makeup can be used to experiment”

“So, is that what S.H.I.E.L.D. wants to do with me?” you sigh, looking out the window. You’re enjoying the view, vaguely aware that life as you know it is over.

“We want to offer you shelter at the Avengers Compound. 24 hour security, top facilities and technology. You can continue your research” Natasha says, trying to make it sound like a great deal.

It brings her back to that time Fury told her it was either work for the US government or end up in the Raft.

Your offer is slightly better, but a golden prison is still a prison.

“Are there any questions I can answer before you make a decision?” she offers with a kinder tone.

“Yeah. Do I even have a choice?”

—

Academic life is all you’ve ever known. Grants were the perfect way to do your research without having to look for a benefactor and expose yourself. You could learn things about your DNA, your abilities, while doing other stuff without anyone noticing.

Now, you wake up and there’s nothing that drives you. You live with people who have exceptional skills, physical prowess, and military training. Their world is avenging, your world is scientific papers and books.

Sure, their lab is nice, but most of the times you end up leaving early, completely unmotivated and feeling empty. 

Natasha watches from afar, and although this isn’t her doing, she feels responsible. She tries to include you in activities she understands, like training, but you’re very obviously not the athletic kind.

Banner is, as usual, isolating himself and Tony speaks nerd, but is barely around unless a mission requires his presence. 

It isn’t until one day that Peter shows up to the Compound that Natasha gets an idea.

“Hi, Miss Romanoff. Is Mister Stark around?” he asks in that shy tone he always uses when he’s around Natasha.

“Nope, not to my knowledge. Do you need anything?” 

“FRIDAY told me to meet him here. He must have forgotten. I guess I better get back to my Biochem project”

Wait a minute.

He’s a nerd.

“Stay” she says, looking him up and down. Peter reminds her of a puppy when he stops completely, as if he learned a new command. “Wait for Tony at the lab. I’ll try to find him”

“You’re sure? I’m not allowed inside by myself” he hesitates, following Natasha.

“Yeah, it’s fine” she types in the access code, and of course, there you are, spinning in your chair.

As soon as you hear the door opening, you stop your movements, almost falling off.

Natasha finds your blush adorable.

“Hey, Y/N. This is Peter. He’ll be around waiting for Tony”

“Oh, hey. Ok, I was just leaving. I’m kinda stuck either way”

“Ordinary Differential Equations?” Peter says as soon as he gets his eyes on your board.

“Yes. Very impressive” you nod. “This is focused on genetic network. I’m trying to determine inborn errors of metabolism”

“Oh, you know? There’s a brilliant Doctor who’s working on that, maybe her paper would be great for you. She’s Y/N Y/L/N”

“Yeah, that’s me” you say, tapping your chin and examining the board. “What is your ability? If you have any? Maybe I can use a different set of data”

“Yes! I would love to, what do you need from me?” Peter says, a little starstruck at finding out you’re one of the most prestigious researchers in the world. 

“For now, a blood sample” you wink at him, adjusting your glasses.

Natasha sits in the back of the lab as you and Peter work together, and you explain every concept to him. This is the first time since you arrived that you don’t look so miserable.

The Russian takes it as a small win when you join her in the common area for dinner.

--

Since Peter found out about your abilities and your permanent stay at the Compound, you’ve been advising him on his project and college applications. Which is a really nice distraction, but it also makes you miss your own college days.

So, even if you’re in a better mood, it’s still hard to socialize with the team.

One day, you enter the lab to find Rogers, Wilson and Barnes looking at a screen, while Natasha types.

“Whoever encrypted this is slightly smarter than me. Only slightly” 

They look away as you drag a chair to focus on your own stuff, a cup of coffee in your hand and a cookie in your mouth.

“Hi…” you wave at them, feeling intimidated as usual.

“Hey, weather girl” Sam winks at you. 

Natasha rolls her eyes and elbows him.

“Ignore him, Y/N”

You can tell she’s getting frustrated, so you inch closer, looking at the code over her shoulder. Placing your hand on her elbow, you silently ask for permission to take over.

The redhead eyes you curiously, but stops typing and moves the keyboard your way. It takes you twenty seconds to hack into the files.

“How…?”

“I used to hack into databases to make sure my name wasn’t on any watchlist” you explain casually. Natasha laughs at that. “Anyway, there you go”

“Thanks, Y/N. You’re my hero” Natasha says, smiling up at you. Her tone makes you blush and you nod, going back to your desk.

“Nice work. We could use your help if you’re free some other time” Steve says as they leave the lab.

“Of course, Capitan” 

—

An intruder changes your mind about training. The threat is handled swiftly and you don’t even have time to hide before F.R.I.D.A.Y. confirms the suspect has been taken into custody

But you don’t even know how to begin to defend yourself, so you come back to Natasha, asking if her offer still stands.

Needless to say, the spy is more than happy to train you. Not just because it means you’re comfortable asking for things, but because Natasha can teach you something that will help you protect yourself.

You start with two sessions per week, which later turns to four, until you’re comfortable with training almost daily.

The rest of the team joins from time to time, giving you advice and helping you when Natasha’s away on missions.

After a few weeks, Natasha notices how your resistance is better and you’re building some muscle.

Only as a professional observation. It’s not like she finds you attractive, with that nerdy charm and toned arms.

One day, as you’re leaving the gym, she checks her bag, cursing when she notices she forgot a change of clothes. 

“Wanna borrow one of my hoodies?” you offer, handing over your NYU sweatshirt.

“You sure?” Natasha hesitates.

“Yeah, I got tons of these. From all the places I’ve done work or research” 

“I’ll give it back” she promises, taking it.

That turns out to be a lie.

A few days later, when you’re folding your laundry, F.R.I.D.A.Y. requests that you join Tony and Banner in the lab. Leaving the basket in the living room, you think nothing of it, nor do you notice that a couple of your sweatshirts are gone.

It all comes to light a week later, when Natasha comes back from a grueling mission. The only thing that will make her feel better is staying in her room while wearing your UCLA hoodie.

She totally forgets about her attire when she answers the door.

“Huh, so that’s where it was” you tilt your head, smiling.

“I…”

“I’m watching a movie, care to join me? It’s one of your favorites” 

“Ok” she nods, surprised that you’re not mad about the stolen sweatshirt. 

Natasha enters your room, appreciating the combination of books, notes and the board with equations. After you apologize for the mess, you offer a place to sit in your bed.

“It looks good on you” you compliment the redhead. Natasha smiles, trying to be nonchalant about it.

“Thank you” 

It becomes a habit, to steal your hoodies.

“Objectively speaking, you don’t actually need them as you can regulate your temperature” Natasha comments one day, digging through your closet. To her shock, she finds a sweatshirt with a sorority logo on it.

“Not mine. A girl I hooked up with in college” you explain.

Natasha rolls her eyes, throwing the garment as far away as possible while pulling a face. You laugh at her reaction.

“Don’t be jealous, Natty. You’re my favorite” you promise, unaware of the effect your words had on her.

“And yet you never let me wear the Harvard one”

“That was my first” you shrug your shoulders.

“First college or first hook up?” Natasha taunts and you laugh.

“A nerd never kisses and tell. Actually, a nerd rarely kisses anyone to being with” you try to joke, pulling out the Harvard sweatshirt from your closet to put it on.

Natasha eyes it, and you catch her intentions a little too late. She inches forward and you stretch your arm back, trying to place the hoodie out of reach.

“Nu-uh” you shake your head, laughing as she keeps trying to steal it. “Natasha, there are like ten other hoodies you  could take!” 

“I want this one!” she insists, jumping. Her body crashes against yours, and you both stumble, falling in your bed. Limbs are tangled and her laugh tickles your ear as she struggles to lift herself up. After a moment, Natasha smiles, looking at your lips. “Gotcha”

You don’t even know what to say, her intense stare making you feel warm -both literally and figuratively - and your heart beats faster when it seems like she’ll lean forward and kiss you.

“Agent Romanoff, there’s an urgent call for you” FRIDAY interrupts the moment. 

Natasha sighs, standing up and looking at you. 

“Catch you later?”

“Yeah” you nod, trying to hide your disappointment.

—

Natasha was gone for a week, and returned with a very bad injury. You heard the news as Steve and Tony were arguing in the kitchen, blaming each other as usual.

“Where…? Is she ok…?” you try to interrupt them, but they’re in the middle of a screaming match.

“Come with me” Maria says, taking you to a whole different wing of the Compound. Since you’ve never been on missions, you didn’t know about the Medbay.

Natasha’s lying in a hospital bed, asleep.

“She’s ok. A guy threw a knife at her, but it was only a superficial stab wound. Doctor said she’ll be discharged tomorrow” Maria eases your nerves. 

Of course, for her it’s easy to say it’s no big deal. Agents are shot, blown up, killed in the field. A little scratch is nothing, especially for Natasha. But you take a deep breath, leaving the Medbay in a rush.

As you lock yourself in the Avenger’s Lab, you make F.R.I.D.A.Y. a simple request.

“Show me the mission’s footage”

—

Natasha’s had worst, truly. But still, her head is throbbing when she wakes up. The doctor discharges her with the instruction to rest for a week. No training either.

The Russian notices a bag with clothes on the chair next to her bed. She finds your Harvard sweatshirt, which puts a tiny smile on her face.

You are nowhere to be found in the Compound when she returns, so she goes to her room to take another nap, the painkillers making her sleepy.

By the time Natasha wakes up to get something to eat, F.R.I.D.A.Y. requests her presence in the lab.

“What is it?” she says, surprised to find you working on a tablet. It looks like you haven’t slept in the last 24 hours, five or six cups of coffee around the various tables in the lab.

“I created a new technology for your suit” you jump right to it. “It has motion sensors that are triggered by incoming threats. That way, if someone tries to sneak up on you, you can either get an alert or program a defense mechanism that can be shot from any part of the suit” 

Natasha takes the tablet, running the simulation. She’s impressed with the level of detail you’ve placed on this and on such short time. She’s about to thank you, but you’re already asleep in the couch of the lab, clearly exhausted from all the work you’ve done.

The sight of your sleeping form makes Natasha’s heart flutter.

—

Movie night is the one tradition you’ve always been on board with. Coincidentally, it’s Natasha’s least favorite. Depending on her mood, she’ll join everyone on the living room, or talk you into watching something else in your room or hers.

Tonight, she stops by once the movie has already started. As usual, you’re on the couch in the far back of the room, your glasses reflecting the screen as you eat some popcorn.

“Hey” Natasha leans over the back of the couch and whispers against your ear, making you jump. Your eyes follow her as she jumps over to plop down next to you.

“You’re not supposed to be doing that with a hole on your side, Natasha” you reprimand. 

“It’s fine” she lies, grabbing some popcorn.

As the movie keeps going, the woman inches closer to you. At first you think she’s settling in her seat, but then her hand spreads on the back of the couch, dangerously close to your neck.

It’s fine. You can handle it.

Nope, you absolutely can’t. Not when you feel Natasha’s nimble fingers playing with the hairs on the back of your neck, her digits alternating between caressing the skin and scratching your scalp.

“You’re hot” she whispers at some point and you turn to look at her, dazed.

“Huh?”

“You feel hot” she clarifies a second later, her eyes looking at your lips. “Is everything ok? Those powers of yours are acting up”

“I’m fine” you nod, looking back at the screen. Aware that you are in fact increasing the temperature in the room, you take a breath and close your eyes, before anyone else notices.

You’re almost back to normal when Natasha stretches and lies across your lap, her left hand squeezing your thigh as the other one begins to trace patterns in your skin.

All while she's wearing your Harvard sweatshirt.

Your only thought is to take it off, along with the rest of her clothes and kiss every inch of her body.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., is the thermostat broken…?” Tony finally snaps, annoyed at the sudden changes in temperature. “Never mind” 

Everyone follows his eyes as he looks to the back of the room, where Natasha is playing dumb while riling you up.

“Can you two find a room to turn into a sauna and spare the rest of us?” Tony says, which makes your eyes widen, and the room practically turns into a freezer. “Great, now we’re all turning into popsicles. Cap, you’re familiar with the feeling, right?”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Tony” Natasha finally stands up, showing you some mercy. “Come on, detka” 

“Uh, ok” you say, your voice barely a whisper as you allow the woman to drag you back to her room.

As soon as the door is shut, she pushes you against it.

“So, tell me” she says with a playful smile. “How hot do you think it will get here?”

You can only shake your head, speechless. Natasha smiles, kissing you softly. All thoughts leave your head, opening your mouth to give her access. You’ll do anything she asks, anything at all.

“I see” she smiles when the room gets hot. “Good thing we won’t have our clothes on” 

It’s the best sex of your life.

So much so, the fire alarm goes off in the entire Compound.

“Fucking worth it” you sigh as you’re both naked in bed, the water from the sprinklers evaporating from all the heat in the room.