#neither of them are made for this and yet now they have it. together

[hoe4hotchner]

Epilogue

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x figure skater (fem)!Reader

Summary: The story follows you a figure skater training for nationals and Aaron Hotchner as your lives intertwine during an investigation into the abductions of young athletic women, including the your close friend, Leah. As the BAU delves deeper into the case, you find yourself captivated by Hotch’s quiet strength and protective presence. When Leah’s body is tragically discovered at the rink, the tension escalates, surrounding you in an atmosphere of fear and uncertainty.

Word count: 7.8k

Warnings: Lot of law and court case stuff, 18+, Smut, oral, heated kissing, P in V, mention of injury.

A/N: This is the end…… Please bear with me on this one, when I went to edit the chater I realized that I had swapped the genders of the prosecutor and the defense attorney from what I had writte 2 chapters ago 😭😭😭 I hope I caught all places where I swapped them.

Masterlist

It had been months since everything had come to light—since Collins had been arrested. Since you’d started to rebuild your life, your trust in people, in yourself.

But today, you had to face him again.

You flexed your fingers absentmindedly, feeling the slight resistance as your wrist protested the movement. The cast had been removed weeks ago, but the stiffness remained. You still wore a brace for support, still had exercises from your physiotherapist to regain full mobility. It wasn’t painful, not exactly, but it was a reminder—one you couldn’t ignore, one that despite surviving Collins, your mind had not been in the right place which had caused you injury.

It was a reminder of everything you’d lost. And everything you’d fought to reclaim.

The air felt heavier than usual as you stood in front of your mirror, trying to steady your breathing. You smoothed your hand—your good hand—down the front of your blouse, not because it was wrinkled, but because it gave your fingers something to do.

No amount of preparation could stop the nerves from creeping up your spine, sending shivers through your body. This was new territory. A courtroom wasn’t an ice rink, and there was no routine to guide you through it, nothing that would've ever prepared you for it.

A sharp knock at the door startled you from your thoughts. You exhaled slowly, pressing your hands to your thighs before moving to answer it.

Hotch.

He stood there in his usual suit, his expression calm and composed—but his eyes told a different story. There was something searching in his gaze, in the way he looked at you, like he already knew exactly how you were feeling.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice gentle yet firm.

You nodded out of habit, but he wasn’t fooled. His gaze flickered to your hand, twisting at the hem of your shirt. Before you could tuck it away at your sides, Hotch reached out, his fingers brushing against yours before wrapping fully around your good hand.

The gesture wasn’t unfamiliar anymore. In the months since your injury, since everything had changed, your relationship with Hotch had shifted too.

It wasn’t sudden, not a single moment that flipped a switch, but something steady, something that grew naturally between shared late-night conversations and moments that neither of you wanted to end. You spent nearly all your free time together now—movie nights on his couch, long walks where he let you talk about everything and nothing, stolen hours where he made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t even realized you needed.

Somewhere along the way, he had become more than just the man who had protected you. More than the person who had been by your side when everything had fallen apart.

He had become someone you didn’t want to imagine your life without.

And now, standing in front of him, his hand wrapped around yours like it belonged there, you felt that warmth settle deep in your chest.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” he murmured.

Your throat tightened, the weight of the situation pressing against your chest. You forced yourself to meet his eyes, searching for something—you didn't know what, strength maybe? Reassurance? Anything to help you breathe through the suffocating anxiety curling in your lungs.

“I just…” The words stuck, and you hesitated, swallowing against the growing lump in your throat. Your fingers curled slightly against Hotch’s hand. “I don’t know if I’m ready to see him again.”

Hotch’s grip on your hand tightened just slightly—not enough to hurt, never that, but enough to ground you, to remind you that he was there. The warmth of his touch seeped into your skin, it felt like a promise without words, a promise that he would do all he could to keep you safe.

“I know,” he said, his voice was calm. “I'm not going to lie and tell you that it’ll be easy, because it won't. Collin's defense attorney will likely try to grill you on the stand.”

Your chest ached at his words. He usually always knew exactly what to say—not in a way that dismissed your feelings or brushed past them, but in a way that acknowledged them. This time was not one of them.

You inhaled, slow and shaky, trying to find your balance amidst the storm inside you. “What if—”

He didn’t let you spiral.

“He can’t hurt you anymore.” His voice was firm. “You’re safe. And I’ll be with you the entire time.”

Your breath hitched, and you blinked rapidly, willing the burn behind your eyes to fade. You hadn’t even realized how much you needed to hear that.

How much you needed to believe it.

Hotch watched you for a long moment. He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t demanding anything from you—just waiting, letting you take what you needed from him. Then, after another beat of silence, he gave your hand one final squeeze before gently letting go.

“Come on,” he said, his voice softer now. “Let’s go.”

You nodded, even as your stomach churned, even as uncertainty clawed at the edges of your sanity. You forced your feet to move, to take that first step out of your home, out of your safe space, toward whatever was waiting for you in that courtroom.

The courthouse was colder than you expected, the chill settling deep in your bones despite the cardigan you’d thrown over your blouse. The air smelled like polished wood and old paper, it felt like a strange mix, but in reality, wasn't. The faint hum of voices echoed down the long hallway where you stood with Hotch and the rest of the team. The space was too bright, the fluorescent lights overhead casting a harsh glow on the marble pillars and cream-colored walls. Everything about this place felt rigid.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt once more, it was a nervous habit from your early skating days that you had never quite managed to shake, even with all the time that had passed. You knew you had no reason to be afraid—Collins was locked away, shackled, and awaiting judgment, police officers would surround him at all times—but the knowledge didn’t stop the pulse of anxiety running through you.

Emily stood beside you, her arms crossed as she leaned in slightly. “You okay?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to nod. “Yeah. Just—” You hesitated, exhaling through your nose. “Just nervous.”

Emily’s lips pressed together in understanding. “That’s normal. Even if you know the outcome, it’s still a lot.”

You appreciated that she didn’t try to brush it off or tell you there was nothing to worry about. She knew better than anyone that facing the past, even when it couldn’t touch you anymore, was never easy.

From your other side, Morgan tilted his head toward you. “You know we’ve got your back, right?” His voice was calm and steady, filled with the same confidence that you had come to admire about him.

“Yeah.” You offered him a small, appreciative smile. “I know.”

But even as you said it, you could feel the weight in your chest growing heavier with every passing second.

Without thinking, your gaze drifted toward Hotch. He hadn’t said much since you’d arrived, but he didn’t need to. He was watching you, his eyes looked calm, taking in every shift in your posture, every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. He always saw more than you wanted to show, but for once, you didn’t mind. Today it was important that he knew.

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he just moved a little closer, his hand brushing lightly against your lower back. The touch was brief, barely even there, but it was enough to ground you.

Before you could say anything, the heavy wooden doors at the end of the hallway creaked open, and a bailiff stepped into the corridor. “We’re ready to begin,” he announced, his voice firm but not unkind. “You can take your seats.”

Your stomach clenched.

This was it. The moment you had spent months anticipating, dreading.

Your feet felt heavier than they should have as you moved toward the open doorway, but Hotch stayed at your side, matching your pace with quiet patience. He didn’t rush you, didn’t push—just walked with you.

The courtroom was just as cold as the hallway, the wooden benches polished to a shine, the air thick whispers. The moment settled in your chest as you stepped forward, your pulse drumming in your ears.

You could do this.

The judge’s gavel echoed sharply through the courtroom, signaling the start of the trial. Your heart hammered in your chest as you settled into your seat beside Hotch, feeling the tension of the room press in from all sides.

“Court is now in session,” the judge, a stern woman with glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, declared. Her voice was commanding, and as she took her seat at the bench, the room followed suit.

Hotch’s presence beside you was comforting, his hand resting just close enough that you could feel the warmth of it without needing to feel his touch. He didn’t say anything—didn’t need to. His proximity, his silence was enough.

The defense attorney was the first to speak, her voice smooth and confident, her movements deliberate as she stood up. A short woman in her mid-forties with graying temples, her tailored suit fit her well, a clear sign of the money backing her. She adjusted her tie, then turned to address the judge.

“Your Honor,” she began, her tone respectful but laced with a subtle arrogance, you already hated her “I request that we begin the trial by reviewing the charges against my client, Mr. Eric Collins. While the allegations are certainly serious, we intend to prove that the evidence against him is not as conclusive as the prosecution would like the court to believe.”

The defense attorney paused, eyes briefly scanning the room. She met your gaze for a moment, and though you didn’t flinch, your stomach dropped. She didn’t look at you like a person—she looked at you as a tool to be used, to be twisted into something to help his case. You swallowed hard, forcing your attention back to the judge.

The judge nodded, her gaze sharp. “We will proceed with the opening statements. Mr. Williams, you may begin.” She gestured toward the prosecution, and you exhaled, the sound barely audible beneath the murmurs of the court.

The prosecutor stood, a man in his thirties with short and neatly combed, blonde hair and a no-nonsense demeanor. He was dressed in a simple black suit, his posture straight and commanding as he turned to face the jury.

“Thank you, Your Honor,” he said, his voice firm but calm. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the case we present today is about the pursuit of justice for a victim of an atrocious crime. The defendant, Mr. Collins, is accused of a series of actions that have left an indelible mark on the life of the victim. We will present evidence that shows not only his guilt but his complete disregard for the consequences of his actions.”

Your throat went dry as he spoke, the words piercing you like shards of glass. It was all coming out—everything you had worked so hard to bury. And as the prosecutor continued, you could feel the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest.

The prosecutor turned slightly toward you, acknowledging you without actually speaking your name. You swallowed hard, your fingers twitching slightly in the brace.

“Witnesses will testify, documents will be presented, and video footage will be shown,” the prosecutor continued. “By the end of this trial, the only conclusion you will be able to draw is that Mr. Collins committed the acts of which he is accused, and that he must be held accountable.”

He sat down, giving the jury a moment to digest his words. You could feel the weight of their eyes, their gaze locked on either you or Collins as they tried to assess the truth of what had been laid before them.

“Ms. Avery,” the judge said, turning to the defense. “You may present your opening statement.”

The defense attorney stood again, her hands steepled in front of her as she addressed the jury, her tone more calculated than Mr. Williams'.

“Ladies and gentlemen, what the prosecution would have you believe is a clear-cut case is not as simple as they make it appear. Yes, my client has been accused, but that does not mean he is guilty. The prosecution will present a case based on circumstantial evidence, on theories and assumptions that are far from conclusive.” Her voice was smooth and persuasive, weaving through the air like silk. It wasn't for nothing that Hotch had warned you about her, you thought, swallowing the lump stuck in your throat.

She paused, allowing the jury to absorb her words. “What they will not tell you is that there is no direct evidence linking my client to several of the crimes he's accused of. No confession. No forensic evidence that definitively ties him to these allegations. Instead, they will attempt to sway you with emotion, to exploit the trauma of the victim and push you toward a verdict based on sympathy rather than facts.”

Your chest tightened. The words hit harder than you expected, and for a moment, you couldn’t help but feel a little light-headed. You weren’t just a victim in the eyes of the defense—you were a symbol to be used, manipulated for their case, hoping you would mess up. You felt your hand tighten in your brace, the pain that came from the pressure was enough to keep your thoughts away from your mind.

Ms. Avery wasn’t finished yet. She paced in front of the jury, each step deliberate, as if marking the space she claimed as her own. “We will show that the prosecution’s case is built on conjecture. We will show that the victim’s testimony, while certainly painful, is not enough to prove guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.”

She shot a quick glance toward you, her eyes calculating, trying to figure out your train of thought, before continuing, “We will show that the truth is not so simple.”

The words settled over you like a blanket of ice, and you had to force yourself to breathe, to crack free. You could feel Hotch’s hand move slightly closer to yours, his fingers brushing against yours for just a second.

The judge cleared her throat. “Thank you, Ms. Avery. We will now proceed with the presentation of evidence.”

The room grew quieter, and more focused as the trial moved into the next phase. A team of forensic experts, investigators, and even a few of your former teammates would take the stand. Each piece of evidence, each testimony, would build the case against Collins, piece by piece.

The process was long, but it was necessary. And as you listened, as you tried to hold yourself together, you found strength in the presence of those who stood with you—Hotch, the BAU, everyone who believed you.

This trial wasn’t just about a man who had wronged you, how he had wronged and murdered others. It was about putting together the pieces of your own story, confronting the damage he had done, and finally taking control of the narrative, hoping that you could flip the page and begin a new chapter.

The courtroom buzzed with a tense energy. The prosecution had laid their case, outlining the terrifying events of Collins' rampage, while the defense had attempted to argue his mental state, trying to paint him as a victim of his circumstances. But now, the stage was set for the witnesses—people who had been right in the thick of it, people who had lived through the investigation.

Hotch sat in the gallery, his posture rigid as always. The back of his neck tingled with the weight of the moment—the weight of the entire investigation, the lives that had been touched, and the trauma that lingered in the air.

"Agent Hotchner, please take the stand," the judge's voice echoed through the room.

You watched as Hotch stood, his broad shoulders filling the space as he made his way to the witness box. His face remained unreadable, but you knew him well enough by now to see the subtle tension in his jaw, the quiet focus in his eyes. He didn’t flinch when the room fell into a silence, all eyes on him.

After swearing him in, the prosecutor began his questioning.

"Agent Hotchner," the prosecutor said, adjusting his glasses, "You were the lead investigator in this case. Can you explain to the court how the BAU approached the investigation?"

Hotch’s voice was steady as he began, each word measured and precise. “We began by securing the crime scene and identifying the potential connections between the victims. The first priority was to gather as much evidence as possible to understand the unsub’s motives, patterns, and any links to prior incidents. Once we had a profile of the suspect, we worked to narrow down potential suspects in the area and focused our efforts on tracking down Collins once we had identified him as our main suspect.”

His eyes flickered over the room briefly, but his attention remained fixed on the prosecutor. You couldn’t help but feel respect for him. His methodical approach, his composure—it was all so deliberate, so composed. Even in this moment, standing before a courtroom full of people, he was the same Hotch you knew from the investigation. How he did it you did not know.

"And how did you handle the situation when you discovered that Collins might be a danger to those closest to him?" the prosecutor pressed, his voice a little sharper.

Hotch’s expression remained unreadable. "We immediately began working with local law enforcement to put measures in place. The situation was time-sensitive, and we knew that if we didn’t act quickly, there was a real risk that Collins could harm more people—especially those connected to the investigation."

He paused for a moment, taking a breath, his eyes now narrowing slightly as he added, “It’s our job to not only stop the unsub but to protect the innocent. At all costs.”

The weight of his words hit hard, the room quiet except for the sound of a pen scratching paper. It wasn’t just a statement about his job. It was about everything—the responsibility that came with being part of a team like the BAU, the lives they were meant to protect, the people who trusted them with their safety.

The prosecutor leaned in slightly, then spoke again. “And can you speak to the specifics of the threat Collins posed? How close did the situation come to escalation?"

Hotch's voice grew even firmer as he replied, "We knew that Collins was unpredictable, and his erratic behavior indicated that he was capable of extreme violence. We had no way of knowing when or where he would strike next, so our strategy was to close in on him as quickly as possible to neutralize the threat before anyone else was hurt by being present at major events regarding the athletes he was targeting."

The prosecutor nodded, clearly satisfied with the answer. The court seemed to hold its collective breath as he continued with his questioning, but Hotch stood strong.

As the questioning shifted to the specifics of the arrest and the team’s coordination, you couldn’t help but think back to everything that had led up to this moment—the fear, the adrenaline, and the quiet relief when Collins had finally been taken down. It felt like a lifetime ago, but the emotions were still as raw as the day it had happened.

And through it all, Hotch had remained the anchor—steadfast, always holding everyone together.

The defense attorney cleared his throat, standing and adjusting her suit before turning her attention to Hotch. She had spent the trial circling the BAU's methods, scrutinizing every step of their investigation, but now it seemed she was going for something more personal.

"Agent Hotchner," the Ms. Avery began, her voice smooth and probing. "I’d like to turn to a different subject. I believe you and Ms. [L/N] have developed a relationship over the course of this investigation. Is that correct?"

Hotch’s expression didn’t shift, his demeanor as professional as ever. He met the defense attorney’s gaze without hesitation. “That’s correct,” he replied evenly.

The attorney raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly forward as she pressed on. "And this relationship has become romantic, yes?"

Hotch didn’t flinch, his voice was controlled. “We did not become romantically involved until after the investigation was concluded. Before that, Ms. [L/N] and I were not involved in any personal way. We were working together to apprehend the suspect.”

The attorney’s lips curled slightly, clearly not satisfied with the answer, and she continued. "So you’re saying that your personal relationship with Ms. [L/N] has no bearing on how the investigation was conducted? You can assure the court that it didn’t cloud your judgment or affect the outcome of the case?"

“Absolutely,” Hotch responded firmly. “Our personal relationship developed after the case was over. During the investigation, I was fully focused on the task at hand—solving the case. My team and I conducted ourselves with professionalism, and that includes the way we handled every aspect of the investigation.”

There was no hesitation in his response. Hotch was calm, his posture unyielding, as if he had already anticipated the line of questioning.

The defense attorney took a slow step back, but her gaze remained sharp. “So, despite the nature of your personal connection with Ms. [L/N], you assert that the integrity of the investigation was never compromised?”

“My professional responsibility to the case, my team, and the victims, took precedence over everything else. The relationship didn’t come into play during the investigation. I assure you, and this court, that the focus was solely on gathering evidence and apprehending the suspect.”

There was a moment of silence as the Ms. Avery tried to gauge whether she should press on, but Hotch’s professionalism seemed to have deterred him. The attorney finally shifted her focus back to the case details, seemingly realizing that no further personal questions would shake the unit chief's resolve.

Hotch held his ground, his voice and demeanor a clear representation of the principles that guided his actions. The personal connection between he and you was secondary to the pursuit of justice. That was the truth, and nothing in this courtroom could change that.

As the defense moved on, Hotch let out a quiet breath. The questioning had been intense, but the focus was where it needed to be. His mind stayed centered on what mattered—justice for the victims, and closure for everyone involved. He didn’t need to explain anything further about his feelings for you; what mattered was what had been done during the investigation.

The air in the courtroom shifted as the bailiff called your name, a silence falling over the room. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you had to fight the urge to let your hands shake as you stood, walking toward the witness stand with unsteady legs. You tried not to look at Collins, but you could feel his cold gaze on you, piercing through the room. Every step you took felt heavier, as though the weight of the entire courtroom was bearing down on you.

You took your seat and swore to tell the truth, but even as the words left your lips, you couldn’t shake the knot in your stomach. You weren’t sure how much longer you could keep it together.

Ms. Avery was already rising, her voice smooth as she approached, an air of confidence that set your teeth on edge. Her tone was practiced, almost patronizing as she began.

“Ms. [L/N], you were once a student of Mr. Collins when you were just a child, correct?” She asked, her eyes cold and calculating as they locked onto you.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “Yes.”

"And at that time, he was your coach, your mentor. You looked up to him, didn't you?" the attorney pressed, stepping closer.

You nodded stiffly. “Yes, he was my coach.”

The attorney’s eyes narrowed, and you could tell she was starting to lay the groundwork for something far more sinister. “And throughout that time, you trusted him, didn't you? He helped shape your career. He’s the reason you’re here today, isn’t that right?”

The question felt like a weight crashing down on you, but you nodded again, trying to keep your composure. “He helped me, yes. He taught me.”

The attorney paced in front of you, her voice still smooth. “But now, many years later, you’re accusing him of sexual and verbal assault. Isn’t that interesting? You’ve had years to think about this, to come to terms with your feelings, and yet, after all that time, you choose now to speak up. What do you think that says about you, Ms. [L/N]?”

The words stung, her insinuations digging deep. “You’re suggesting, then, that what happened all those years ago, as a child, didn’t really matter? That maybe you’ve distorted the facts, or perhaps even created them in your mind?” She continued, her tone growing more biting.

You felt a surge of frustration building in your chest. How dare she? How dare she try to invalidate everything you had endured, everything you had carried with you all these years? Everything you had fought to get back the memories of?

You took a deep breath, your voice shaky but resolute. “What he did to me was real,” you said, your words coming out with a force you didn’t expect. “It doesn’t matter how much time has passed. It was real, and I’m not going to let anyone, especially you, make it seem like it wasn’t.”

The defense didn’t back down, instead pushing harder. “But you were just a child. How can you truly claim that what happened was assault? You’re telling the court that everything Mr. Collins did to you, everything you experienced, was something you couldn’t handle, that you couldn’t have misunderstood?”

The question felt like a slap in the face, but you didn’t flinch. You stared at her, the anger rising within you, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. “No,” you said firmly, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’m telling the court that I was a child, and he took advantage of me. And I’m not here to let you twist that, no matter how hard you try.”

There was a brief, tense silence in the room as the attorney stared at you, probably realizing that her words weren’t going to break you. Her mouth tightened, but you didn’t care. You had already said what needed to be said.

The judge’s voice rang out then, sharp and commanding. “This is a courtroom, not a place for personal attacks. Proceed with the questions, but remember your professional conduct.”

You nodded quickly, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. The defense attorney seemed to think better of pushing further for now, shifting the line of questioning. But the damage had been done.

You knew now more than ever that you could face whatever came next. Because the truth had already been spoken, and nothing they said could take that away.

The prosecutor stood up next, and the shift in energy was noticeable. The defense attorney had tried to discredit you, but now it was the prosecution’s turn to make sure your truth was heard. The prosecutor’s presence felt like a breath of fresh air after the tense exchange with the defense.

He approached the stand with grace. You hadn’t realized how much you needed someone to stand in your corner, but now, with the prosecutor’s calm, confident demeanor, you felt a small sense of relief.

“Ms. [L/N], I know this has been incredibly difficult, but I need to ask you to recount what happened at the Regionals, the events that led up to Mr. Collins’s arrest. Could you please walk us through what occurred that day?”

You nodded slowly, trying to steady your racing heart. You thought back to the competition, to everything that had led to that moment. It felt like it had happened so fast, like it had all been a blur.

“At Regionals... it was supposed to be the culmination of everything I’d worked for,” you began, the words coming out slowly at first. “I was focused, I had to be. But there was something about that day—something felt off.”

“The competition started, and I tried to push it all aside, tried to focus on what I was doing on the ice. And then he showed himself.”

Your breath hitched, but you kept going. You had to.

“He threatened me, tried to shoot. And I ran. Or rather skated off, trying to stay out of line not to get hurt.”

The room was silent, every eye focused on you. You took another breath, trying to steady yourself, but it wasn’t easy. The memories, the rawness of them, felt too fresh, too painful.

“And that’s when Mr. Hotchner and the BAU stepped in and took him down” the prosecutor continued, nodding toward Hotch, who sat at the back of the courtroom.  “Can you tell us how they were involved?”

You turned slightly, your eyes meeting Hotch’s for a moment. He was watching you, his expression soft but resolute. It gave you strength, knowing he was there.

“Yes,” you said, a slight tremor in your voice as you began again. “When I left the ice, I... I didn’t know where to go. I was terrified. But I knew I couldn’t go back. Once everything was safe again, Agent Hotchner came to find me to make sure I hadn't gotten hurt.”

“Hotch and the team... they made sure I was safe. They took my statements, and they didn’t waste any time. They found out everything they needed to, all the evidence, all the details.”

You swallowed, your throat tight, but you pressed on. “I didn’t have to fight this alone. The BAU made sure of that.”

The prosecutor nodded, his voice reassuring as they continued. “And when Mr. Collins was arrested, how did that feel?”

You took a deep breath, the question pressing against you. “It felt like... like a weight had been lifted. Like I could finally breathe again. But it wasn’t just about the arrest—it was about what it meant. That someone believed me.”

The prosecutor smiled at you, though it was small. “Thank you, Ms. [L/N]. No further questions.”

As he stepped back, you felt a weight lift off your chest. You had spoken your truth, and you knew, deep down, that it had been the right thing to do. You had done your part.

And now, it was time to let justice take its course.

The courtroom fell into an expectant hush as the jury returned. Eric Collins sat in his chair, his expression unreadable, his hands clasped tightly in front of him, while you sat in your seat, your heart pounding in your chest, your hands clenched tightly in your lap.

The judge looked over at the jury foreman, who stood, a piece of paper in hand. The judge’s voice rang out clear and steady as he asked, “Has the jury reached a verdict?”

The foreman nodded, his expression earnest. “We have, Your Honor.”

You held your breath as the foreman read aloud, “We, the jury, find the defendant, Eric Collins, guilty on all charges.”

The words echoed in the courtroom, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. The weight of the verdict settled into your chest. It was over. The man who had tried to destroy your life was now held accountable for his actions. The realization, though it didn’t erase the pain, brought a sense of closure that you never thought you would feel.

Collins didn’t react—he didn’t even flinch. But you noticed a small shift in his posture, a slight tension in his shoulders, as if the reality of the verdict was finally sinking in or if he was considering appealing the judgement. Regardless, he would pay for what he had done.

Hotch, who had been sitting next to you the entire trial, reached out and placed a reassuring hand on your thigh. You hadn’t even realized how tense you had become until you felt his touch. It was steadying, comforting, and you leaned into it, giving a small nod of acknowledgment.

The judge addressed the room again, his voice firm. “The court will reconvene for sentencing at a later date. In the meantime, the defendant is remanded into custody.”

Collins was escorted from the courtroom, his face stoic. You didn’t watch him leave. Instead, you focused on the moment—the moment when the system had listened, and when justice had finally been served.

As the courtroom began to clear, you remained seated, the full weight of everything still settling over you. Hotch remained by your side, never once moving away.

"You did it," he said quietly, his words almost a whisper.

You managed a small smile, though the exhaustion was written all over your face. “We did it,” you corrected him softly, your voice hoarse from everything you had been through.

Hotch nodded, and for a moment, neither of you said anything more. You just sat there, a shared understanding passing between the two of you. It wasn’t over—not completely—but it was a step forward. And that, for now, was enough.

The kitchen was quiet, the only sounds coming from the hum of the fridge and the faint tapping of raindrops against the windows. The room was dimly lit, the warm light from the overhead lamp casting a gentle glow on the counter, where two mugs of coffee sat, cooling. You and Hotch had just returned to your apartment after the trial, everything still felt heavy, but there was a relief in the air now—something you couldn’t quite put into words.

You stood by the counter, wrapping your hand around your mug. Hotch was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with a quiet intensity. You could feel the pull between you, the unspoken understanding of everything that had passed between the two of you for the past couple of months.

“Do you ever think about how everything changed?” you asked, breaking the silence, your voice soft, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the delicate peace in the room.

Hotch’s gaze softened as he stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Every day,” he said quietly. “But I think it was for the better. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

You swallowed, his words settling in your chest. “I don’t feel strong,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I feel like everything’s been... out of my control.”

He reached out, his hand gently brushing against yours. “You’ve handled more than anyone should ever have to. But you’ve come through it.”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you just nodded, taking a sip of your coffee to steady yourself. You weren’t sure when it happened, but somehow, Hotch had become someone you relied on—someone who made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

He stepped closer, his fingers brushing against the side of your arm. His touch was gentle, but there was a warmth to it that sent a shiver down your spine. The space between you was shrinking, and you could feel his presence filling the room. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze flickering to your lips, then back up to your eyes.

You couldn’t ignore it anymore—the way your heart was racing, the way your body seemed to respond to him without thought. You took a slow breath, feeling a wave of vulnerability rush through you.

“Hotch…” Your voice stuttered, but you didn’t want to pull away. You didn’t want him to leave—not now, not after everything.

He closed the space between you, his hand resting on your shoulder, his thumb brushing over the fabric of your shirt. His voice was low, almost a whisper. “It’s okay.”

Before you could respond, he was kissing you—gentle at first, his lips brushing against yours in a tentative exploration. Your breath hitched, and instinctively, you reached up, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, and the warmth between you intensified, the slow, gentle rhythm of it turning into something more urgent, more heated.

Hotch’s hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer as if there were no space left between you that needed to be filled. You could feel the tension in his body, the same tension you had felt all throughout the trial—only now, it was different. Now, it was alive in the way his hands slid under your shirt, the heat of his touch burning through your skin.

You responded, your own hands finding their way to his neck, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer, desperate to feel more of him. The kiss became more passionate, the need for connection undeniable. He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with desire.

“You’re sure?” he asked, his voice a low growl, his breath coming uneven.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yes. I’m sure.”

And with that, Hotch’s lips crashed back to yours, and the world around you disappeared. It was just the two of you in that moment—no trials, no past, no uncertainty. Just him, just you, and the feeling that, for once, everything was finally falling into place.

The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as you pulled him back to you, your body pressing into his, responding to the intensity of the moment. His hands roamed down to your hips, pulling you against him, your body flushing with heat. You could feel the thrum of his heartbeat against yours, each beat matching the rhythm of your own.

It was impossible to think of anything else—nothing else mattered except the feeling of his lips on yours, the warmth of his touch, and the connection that seemed to surge between you, stronger than anything either of you had ever known.

As the heat between you and Hotch continued to build, your kisses growing more passionate and urgent by the second, you suddenly found yourself swept up in his strong arms. With a mischievous glint in his eye, Hotch murmured against your lips, "Jump."

Trusting completely in him, you leaped into his embrace, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist. He caught you effortlessly, his hands cupping your ass as he carried you out of the kitchen and down the hall to your bedroom.

Kicking open the door, he carried you inside, his lips never leaving yours as he lowered you gently onto the bed. You moaned softly as you felt the soft duvet beneath your back, the fabric a contrast to the heat radiating off Hotch's body.

He gazed down at you, his eyes taken in every inch of your curves. Slowly, teasingly, he trailed a finger down your neck, between your breasts, and over your stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. "You're so beautiful," he breathed, his voice low and husky. "I want to worship every inch of you."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body aching for his touch. Impatiently, you reached up to tug at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. He obliged with a wicked grin, pulling the garment over his head and tossing it aside. And soon your own clothes followed

You gasped softly as you took in the sight of his chest and the outline of his biceps, your fingers itching to explore every dip and curve. But before you could touch him, Hotch was on you again, his lips trailing hot kisses down your neck and chest.

He took his time lavishing attention on your breasts, his tongue swirling around each nipple before he drew them into his mouth to suck and nibble. You arched beneath him, tangling your fingers in his hair and holding him close.

Hotch's hands roamed lower, skimming over your hips and thighs. His fingers teased along the edge of your panties, dipping beneath the fabric to caress your already damp folds.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned against your skin, his voice strained with desire. "You're so wet for me already. I can't wait to be inside you."

His words only served to fuel your arousal, your hips bucking up against his hand in a desperate search for more. Hotch seemed to sense your need, quickly divesting you of your remaining clothes until you lay bare before him.

He took a moment to drink in the sight of you, his eyes roaming over your naked form with a look of pure hunger. "God, I want to taste you," he rasped, settling between your thighs. "I want to feel you come apart on my tongue."

Before you could respond, he dipped his head, his tongue delving into your already dripping folds. You cried out at the first touch, your head falling back against the pillows as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

Hotch lapped at you greedily, his tongue exploring every crevice and fold with precision. He circled your clit with the tip of his tongue, flicking over the sensitive bud again and again until you were writhing beneath him.

As your moans grew louder and more urgent, Hotch slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right to hit that spot, the one that made stars burst behind your eyelids. "That's it, baby," he purred, his breath ghosting over your skin. "Let me hear how good I make you feel."

Your hands flew to his hair, holding him in place as he worked you over. Your thighs trembled on either side of his head, your hips rocking against his mouth in a desperate search for more.

"Don't stop," you keened, your voice hoarse with pleasure. "Please, Hotch. I'm so close."

He doubled his efforts, sucking hard on your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you. The pleasure was almost too much to bear, building and building until it finally crested over you in a tidal wave of ecstasy.

You screamed his name as you came, your body convulsing beneath him. He worked you through it, prolonging your orgasm until you were boneless and spent, collapsing back against the mattress.

But Hotch was far from done with you. Crawling up your body, he captured your lips in a searing kiss that tasted of your own arousal. You could feel his erection pressing against you.

Breaking the kiss, he reached down to undo his pants, shoving them down just far enough to free his cock. You bit your lip at the sight, your arousal spiking even higher than before.

"I need to be inside you," he groaned, positioning himself at your entrance. "I need to feel you wrapped around me."

You nodded breathlessly, wrapping your legs around his waist. He surged forward, burying himself deep inside you with one smooth thrust. You both groaned at the sensation, your bodies fitting together like they were made for each other.

Hotch set a slow, sensual pace, his hips rocking against yours in a steady rhythm. He leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth in time with his thrusts.

Your hands roamed over his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath his skin as he moved above you. You could feel every inch of him inside you, stretching you in the most delicious way.

As the pleasure built higher and higher, you could feel yourself tensing, coiling tighter and tighter with each pass of his cock. "Aaron," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I'm so close. Don't stop."

He answered with a growl, his thrusts becoming harder and faster. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your moans and cries of pleasure. You could feel him pulsing inside you, growing thicker and harder with each passing second.

"Come for me, baby," he groaned, his voice strained with effort. "Come all over my cock. I want to feel you squeezing me."

His words were all it took to send you hurtling over the edge once more. You came with a silent scream, your body shuddering and convulsing beneath him as wave after wave of bliss crashed over you. Hotch followed a second later, burying himself deep inside you.

He collapsed on top of you, both of you gasping for breath as you rode out the aftershocks of your orgasms. He pressed soft kisses to your face and neck, murmuring words of love and devotion against your skin.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "I love you so fucking much."

"I love you too," you whispered back, tangling your fingers in his hair. "More than anything."

He smiled against your skin, rolling onto his side and pulling you close. You nestled into his arms, your body still tingling with pleasure.

Hotch had his arm around you, his hand resting on your waist. You melted into his touch, your body fitting perfectly against his, the weight of the day and everything that had come before fading into the background. In his arms, you felt safe, as if you were exactly where you were meant to be.

You didn’t need to say anything. There were no words that could capture the quiet perfection of the moment, the way everything seemed to have fallen into place without either of you trying. The chaos of the trial, the fears, the insecurities—all of it seemed so far away now, replaced with the simple comfort of his presence.

His fingers gently traced circles on your hip. You could feel his chest rise and fall beneath you, the rhythm of his heartbeat steady and grounding. Your own breath was slow as your eyelids grew heavy, the exhaustion of the past weeks, months even, finally catching up with you.

You shifted slightly, finding the perfect spot to nestle into him, his body surrounding you like a cocoon. His lips brushed the top of your head in a tender kiss, and you let out a soft sigh, a smile tugging at your lips. Everything felt effortless now, as if the world had fallen into place with a single, perfect kiss.

“Goodnight,” Hotch murmured, his voice low and steady, his hand resting on your back, pulling you even closer.

You couldn’t help but smile as you closed your eyes. “Goodnight, Hotch.”

And just like that, with his heartbeat thumping steadily in your ear, you fell asleep. Wrapped up in each other, you both drifted off, finding peace in the simplicity of being together, knowing that everything was perfect.

Tag list: @love4lando @therealbaberuthless @crazyunsexycool @pear-1206 @bookworm124 @itsmytimetoodream @c-losur3 @lumestar @evvy96 @booknerd2004 @werebearcocoon @hotchnersgirlxx @jazzimac1967 @gamingfeline @soyobi-wankenobi @meg-black @maxinehufflepuffprincess @multifandombliss

[caitlynssweetheart]

002. SEVEN YEARS OF SILENCE〃✦ ┆ E.W

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶

PART ONE

ꔫ PARING: childhood friends ellie x reader

ꔫ WORDCOUNT: 1750

ꔫAN: Had to put two parts together for this one but as always hope you guys enjoy it and happy valentines day!!

ꔫ WARNING: angst, religous guilt (i think thats it)

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶

Hours passed as you monitored Ellie's condition. The initial crisis had passed, but she remained unconscious. You found yourself checking her vitals more frequently than necessary, using each moment to study the face you'd forced yourself to forget. The guilt that had been your constant companion for years felt heavier now, more tangible in her physical presence. When your shift finally ended, you couldn't bring yourself to leave. Instead, you sat in the uncomfortable chair beside her bed, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor became a soundtrack to your thoughts, each beat reminding you of time wasted, of words unsaid.

Your colleagues gave you questioning looks, but you brushed them off with professional explanations about monitoring a critical patient. You couldn't tell them that this was Ellie, that she was once the person who knew all your secrets, who made you feel seen in a world where you were constantly hiding. As dawn approached, her eyelids began to flutter. Your breath caught in your throat as you waited, torn between the desire to be there when she woke up and the urge to run away again. But this time, you stayed. You owed her that much, at least.

When Ellie's eyes finally opened, they were clouded with confusion. She blinked several times, adjusting to the harsh hospital lighting. Your heart raced as her gaze slowly focused, then widened with recognition. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of years of silence hanging between you.

The silence stretched taut between you, filled with unspoken apologies and years of missed chances. You could see the questions forming on her lips, the way her fingers twisted nervously in the hospital blanket. The familiar gesture transported you back to countless late-night conversations, when she would gather her courage before sharing something important.

Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "Is this real, or am I having one of those dreams again?" The words 'one of those dreams again' echoed in your mind, making your chest tighten. You leaned forward slightly, maintaining a professional distance despite every instinct urging you to move closer. "You're in the hospital," you explained, your voice steadier than you felt. "There was a car accident. You've been unconscious for several hours." Ellie's eyes never left your face as she processed this information.

Then, unexpectedly, she let out a weak laugh that turned into a grimace of pain. "Of course," she muttered. "Of course it would take something like this to see you again." The bitterness in her voice made you flinch. You deserved it, you knew you did, but it still hurt. You busied yourself checking her vitals, using the familiar routine as a shield against the emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "I should get the attending physician," you said, starting to stand. But Ellie's hand shot out, catching your wrist with surprising strength. "Don't," she said, her voice stronger now. "Don't run away again. Not yet.” You sank back into your chair, her touch burning against your skin like a brand. The monitor beside her bed betrayed the quickening of her heart rate, matching the frantic rhythm of your own. "I'm sorry," you whispered, the words feeling inadequate after all this time. "I was... I was scared." Ellie's grip on your wrist loosened but didn't let go. "Of what? Me? Or yourself?" The question hung in the air between you, demanding an answer you weren't sure you were ready to give. But looking at her now, pale and vulnerable in the hospital bed, you realized you'd spent too many years running from the truth.

"I..." you started, but before you could finally voice the truth that had been trapped inside you for so long, the door swung open with a soft whoosh.

Her doctor strode in, his white coat pristine and his expression professionally neutral as he glanced between you and Ellie, noting your positions with a raised eyebrow. "Ah, you're awake, Ms..." he consulted the chart, "Ms. Williams. I'm Dr. Thompson. I see our resident has been monitoring you closely."

You quickly withdrew your wrist from Ellie's grasp, standing up and smoothing your scrubs. The moment shattered like delicate glass, leaving behind a thousand sharp edges of unspoken words.

"I was just completing my final checks," you said, your professional mask sliding back into place, though your voice wavered slightly. "I'll leave you to examine the patient."

As you moved toward the door, you caught Ellie's eyes one last time. They held the same mixture of hurt and longing that had haunted your dreams for years.

Your shift had ended hours ago, but leaving felt impossible now. The weight of unfinished conversations and renewed possibilities anchored you to the hospital. Still, exhaustion tugged at your edges, and you knew you needed rest to face whatever tomorrow would bring. With heavy steps, you made your way to the locker room to change, your mind replaying every moment of your encounter with Ellie. The drive home loomed ahead, but you wondered if sleep would come at all with so many words still caught in your throat.

Days passed like a blur after that night. You threw yourself into your work, picking up extra shifts in different departments to avoid the fifth floor where Ellie was recovering. Your colleagues noticed the change in you, the dark circles under your eyes deepening, but you brushed off their concerns with practiced smiles and vague excuses. But you couldn't avoid her for any longer, since no one ever wants to change to work the night shift. You were faced again with dread knowing that the next night you’d have to see her again.

As you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, memories of her voice, her laugh, and that final look in her eyes kept cycling through your mind. You checked your phone compulsively, though you knew there would be no messages - you hadn't even exchanged numbers.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶

When you finally arrived for your night shift, your footsteps echoed hollowly through the hospital corridors. Each step closer to her room felt like walking through quicksand, your chest tightening with every meter. You'd changed your route about three times, taking longer paths to avoid passing her door, but eventually, duty called you there anyway.

The sight of her empty bed hit you like a physical blow. The sheets were pristine, tucked with hospital corners, no trace of her remaining. Your throat closed up as panic clawed its way through your chest. Had something happened? Had she been discharged? Had you lost her again without even getting the chance to—

"Looking for someone?" Her voice came from behind you, making you spin around so quickly you nearly lost your balance. Ellie stood in the doorway, one hand gripping an IV pole, the other pressed against the door frame for support. She looked stronger than yesterday, but the shadows under her eyes matched your own.

"You shouldn't be up," you managed to say, your professional tone betraying none of the turmoil beneath. "The accident—"

"Don't," she cut you off, her voice sharp. "Don't pretend this is just about medical concern. Seven years y/n. Seven years of silence, and now you want to hide behind your scrubs and pretend we're nothing more than doctor and patient?"

The use of your name sent a shiver down your spine. It sounded both foreign and achingly familiar on her lips. You took an involuntary step backward, your back hitting the edge of the medical cart. "Ellie, I—"

The monitor beside her beeped faster, matching her rising anger. She pushed herself up despite the pain, her knuckles white against the hospital sheets.

"You know what's funny?" she continued, her voice trembling. "I waited. For months, I waited for you to call, to explain, to give me any fucking reason why my best friend suddenly decided I wasn't worth knowing anymore. Joel kept telling me to let it go, but I couldn't. I couldn't understand how someone who promised to always be there could just... disappear."

Each word was a knife, cutting deeper than the last. You wanted to tell her it wasn't her fault, that you'd been drowning in your own fears, your own inadequacies. That leaving her was the hardest thing you'd ever done, and you'd regretted it every day since. But the words stuck in your throat, just like they had seven years ago.

"I thought I was over it," she whispered, her grip on the IV pole tightening until her knuckles went white. "I thought I was over you. But seeing you yesterday... God, it's like no time has passed at all. I still—" She stopped abruptly, swaying slightly.

You moved forward instinctively to steady her, your hands hovering near her shoulders without touching. The space between you crackled with tension, with all the things left unsaid. Her breathing was slightly labored, and you knew you should insist she return to bed, but you couldn't bear to break this moment, as painful as it was.

"I never stopped thinking about you," you finally admitted, your voice barely audible over the hum of hospital equipment. "Not for a single day."

Ellie's laugh was bitter, wet with unshed tears. "That makes it worse, doesn't it? That you thought about me but still chose to stay away. That you cared enough to remember but not enough to write. And now here you are," she laughed, but it was a hollow sound that made your chest ache. "Playing doctor in your pristine white coat, probably living that perfect life your parents always wanted for you. Was it worth it? Was losing everything we had worth making mommy and daddy proud?"

Blood began seeping through the bandage on her forehead, but she didn't seem to notice or care. Her breathing was ragged, each word seeming to cost her something vital.

"I needed you," she whispered, her voice breaking. "When everything went to shit, when I lost everyone else, I needed my best friend. But you were too busy becoming exactly what they wanted you to be."

The monitor's beeping reached a crescendo, and you instinctively moved toward her. She recoiled.

"Don't," she warned, tears finally spilling over. "Don't you dare try to fix this now. You lost that right a long time ago."

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶

taglist: @liasxeatt@chaengluva@junipertried@bready101@pornoangelz@xeneasworld@ellensmithxo@xxannyxx@lovelookspretty@vahnilla@lina222eidolonl@fairylesbean@rxreaqia@feralshaunalvr@minnimoon@ilovewomen4lot@iheartclairo66@abbyswh0r3@mxquelo@kaykeryyy@badbye777@mimasroom2 @dollinrehab @0phantom0 @t0x1cw4st3-x3 @sevyscoven @casualdeathxx @ellieslittleslutt

(some i couldn’t tag sorry)

[reverd-ck]

valentines with choso <3

wc: 1.5k (i yapped too hard)

cw: kms exaggeration/joke

Choso knew he liked you the moment you walked into class.

He knew he was in love with you the moment you sat beside him. Asked for his name. Got his number. All of that.

Seriously, when was the last time a girl he knew from no where asked him for stuff like this? And a pretty one at that?

He couldn’t help but have you in his mind from time to time. 

And you couldn’t either.

He was, objectively, cute. You loved his hairstyle instantly when you saw it. Spacebuns?! In a university class? Sign me up. 

You soon began loving more parts of him the more time you spent with him. The tattoo on the bridge of his nose? The rough eyebags? You hoped he didn’t catch you staring all the time, because holy this man was hot.

You were intrigued. You wanted to know more about him, so you talked to him.

Was it a talking stage? Or did he think of you guys as just friends? Is it normal to be enjoying someone’s company this much? 

You both had your own friends, and your own social circles. But as you and Choso grew closer, they slowly realized what was going on.

His friends were jealous that he got a girl before them, no matter how many times Choso tried to insist you guys weren’t dating. Your friends were ecstatic over the fact that you finally tried seeking a relationship, no matter how many times you said you guys were “just friends.”

But the teasing of your friends didn’t drive you guys apart. It didn’t make you guys be embarrassed to hang out with the other. It might of even made you like each other more.

So when the chill of fall slowly turned into the biting cold of winter, you found yourself coming over and hanging out at his place a lot, and the same vice versa. 

Watching movies, laughing together. On one occasion, you did Choso’s unique hairstyle for him and you put little stickers and hairclips on him. The picture of him in the cute little get up was secretly your home screen wallpaper. It was too cute, him wearing a scrunched up expression because of the tackiness of the accessories. 

Your friends say that you’re dumb as hell.

His friends say that he’s an idiot.

Just about anyone could see the romantic tension between you two, yet neither you nor Choso would admit it out loud to each other. Left to pine in “secret”. 

₊˚⊹♡

Soon enough, February 14th was getting a little too close, and you were panicking if you should ask Choso out.

That was basically a confession. And you didn’t want to make the first step. What if he thought of you guys as only friends? What if the teasing from his friends were just a joke? 

You spent a lot of the time in your day overthinking. Choso saw during the classes you had together, you always seemed preoccupied with something in your head, and never really looking at him directly in the eyes for more than a few seconds.

Now he was overthinking. Did you not like him anymore?

The class was spent with you two together in silence, staring into the polished wood of the desk, lost in your own thoughts.

Thursday, February 13th felt like you had the most pressure in your life. It felt more than just 4 assignments all due on the same day. It felt more than two tests back to back that you didn’t study for.

You decided that you were going to ask him out. You were going to be brave, say “Do you want to be my valentine?” on text, then power off your phone and bury yourself alive.

A great plan. Foolproof, maybe. 

But what would you do after? If he said yes, you didn’t even have any chocolates or teddy bears to give, and now you just seem like a total loser and a leech. 

But what if he said no? Now, you just lost a valuable friendship and someone who made going through each day just a little easier.

You flopped down onto your bed. It was so tiring, thinking and planning and worrying. 

Yes, you needed to think this through. But now, you should just go to sleep and be indecisive in the morning, and not late at night. That was way more doable than asking someone out.

Choso, on the other hand, was in the same predicament as you.

Same “What if?’s”, same “But’s ” were also plaguing Choso’s brain. But Choso was more prepared. He already had his chocolates, with the same brand you loved. He had his small plushie, which was your favorite animal. It was annoying to get them, as he needed to hide them from his peeking friends and, of course, you.

Yet, he had no plan on how to present them to you, and how to even ask you. Would he just go blunt? No, that will make it seem like he put zero effort into it and just wanted someone with him on Valentines Day. A long, heartfelt message would be too tacky, but it would certainly be romantic, only if you returned the feelings. It would be awfully embarrassing if you didn’t like him in the first place.

He covered his face in his hands. Seriously, why did it have to be so hard?

He should man up, for gods sake. Just ask you and get on with his day, whether or not you said no or yes. Rejection is something everybody should experience. 

But he couldn’t take rejection, especially not from you. He didn’t want to take the risk of losing the friendship that was so precious to both of you guys.

But he bought the chocolates. And he already liked you for about 5 months.

It was now or never.

₊˚⊹♡

Choso was about to kill himself. 

Sorry, exaggeration. He was about to bash his head against the wall.

He sent the text. Dear God, why did he send that? And why did he let it just stay? Why didn’t he just unsend it right away? 

Was it for the hopes that you would actually get to see it? 

Well, now it was too late to go back. The text message is forever engraved into the data of his phone and yours. 

Stupid, stupid text message. Did his fingers have to hit send?

It was supposed to be him practicing sending that. Type out the message, then delete it. Paraphrase his sentences before actually sending it. 

There was no possible way he sent a text message that looked that desperate.

Choso slouched onto his bed and groaned, throwing his phone across his desk.

It had already been 15 minutes. That dragged into another hour. Then two hours. Then it was almost midnight and you still haven’t even opened the message yet.

Choso was panicking internally. You would’ve checked your messages at least once during the four hours that had passed. 

Have you already read the message by looking at the notification? Were you so disgusted by the fact he asked you out that you completely neglected to respond?

His hands were in his hair, pulling at the shoulder-length strands. 

Seriously, how much of a dumbass did he have to be?

He couldn’t sleep much that night. He was half awake, overthinking and looking over to see if his phone screen had lit up. But it was always just a random notification, coming from an app Choso barely used anymore. He sighed and turned his phone off, spending the rest of the night not catching a wink of sleep.

₊˚⊹♡

Luckily for you, he asked first.

And luckily for him, you agreed.

You only saw his message in the morning of Valentines. Of course, you immediately replied yes, saving Choso from spending another sleepless hour after seeing his message get left on delivered.

The few seconds after replying to that message felt a little unreal. You collapsed onto your bed, unable to stop smiling. 

You did it.

You were going on a date with one of the best people you knew. The one you not-so silently chased all these months.

Life was perfect right now. You didn’t want anything to change, not after this one.

₊˚⊹♡

Six PM. Friday. 

To say you were excited wouldn’t be accurate.

Actually, it was more of a jittery nervousness. 

You wondered why, actually. Why were you nervous meeting up with a guy you were friends with for almost this whole year?

He opened the door before you could finish gathering your thoughts. 

You looked up. 

Perfect.

He was perfect, just like how you saw him your first class the day you met. Perfect, with his signature hairstyle, never once changing it. He looked the same as if this was just a regular hangout you guys had almost everyday.

As if it’s anything like that.

You greeted him nervously and stepped inside.

He returned the favor, looking just as bit as awkward as you felt. 

Shit, what if confessing to you made you guys as awkward as strangers now? 

But it didn’t.

The rest of the night went smoothly with him. The one you were half-chasing since the start of the school year. 

You couldn’t be anymore happier. 

And Choso couldn’t either.

a/n

happy valentines day guys!!

got lazy writing the last part

and it got way too long so i had to delete some parts of it

thx for reading sigmas!

dividers by @.enchanthings-a @.saradika-graphics

[guacamolleee]

Hey! Your prompts are lovely For thedasevent maybe Emmrook?

“I know you said you didn’t want to be late, but you look amazing, and I’m trying not to kiss you senseless right now,”

Thanks for the prompt!! For @thedasweekend

Set post-Veilguard. 627 words

“Ready, darling?” Emmrich pushed open the bedroom door with his hip, fingers on his cuff, smoothing it down.

“Ugh.” Rook sat by the vanity, attempting to pin her hair into some semblance of order, tucking errant strands into one hand, the other holding a golden clip trying to bunch it together — and failing. Her hair fell back down in waves. “Give me another minute.”

He glanced at his pocket watch — fifteen minutes if they were to get to the party on time, another soiree in Rook's honor, plucky castoff turned darling hero, the nobility suddenly so eager to shake hands with the godkiller that saved the world. Much was to be said about the Mourn Watch's abilities to rub elbows with the nobility, leveraging both her and Emmrich's status to their advantage. Though, he supposed he couldn't complain too loudly — research grants weren't funded themselves after all.

But that was neither here nor there, and he stepped toward Rook, flicking her hair behind her as she turned to face him.

“Do we have to go?” she complained.

“Alas, we must, my love.”

She pouted and batted her eyes at him. “No way I could… convince you, perhaps?”

He laughed, running a hand through her hair, Rook leaning into him as he scratched her scalp. “I am not the one you must convince.”

She grumbled, burying her nose into his stomach, almost certainly crumpling his dress shirt, lipstick rubbing into the fabric. He only smiled.

“Turn around.”

“Hm?”

She looked up at him, and he made a circling motion. “Turn around,” he repeated.

She complied, facing the mirror, their eyes meeting.

He plucked the clip from her hand, a pretty thing, made of gold and shaped like a single bloom of shroud’s kiss, the drops of black diamonds in the center shining in the lamplight. A gift from him to her. His heart warmed.

Emmrich gathered half her hair, combing through it with his fingers, twisting the sides, then clipping it together. He pulled a few strands free to frame her face.

She looked so lovely — the furrow between her brows as she watched him intently, the blush sweeping across her cheeks. It was all too easy to become distracted by the way her dress draped down her shoulders, flowing into billowing sleeves, framing long fingers covered in rings. Her back was open, a familiar constellation of freckles dotting it and begging to be connected.

Emmrich leaned and ran a hand down Rook’s exposed back, fingers dipping into the curve of her hip, slipping just beneath the fabric of her dress.

“Emmrich…” Her breath hitched, legs crossing.

“You are so beautiful, darling.” His voice was low, a spark of heat just beneath. She shivered beneath him. “You will be the talk of the night.”

Rook snorted, an inelegant sound yet so charming. “I'm sure we will be if we don’t hurry up.”

He pulled away and looked at his pocket watch again.

Ten minutes.

“In a hurry, my dear?” He pressed his hand between her shoulder blades and Rook gave a low moan.

There was a lot they could do in ten minutes.

He knelt beside her, cupping her cheeks and turning her head toward him, noses brushing. He could smell her perfume, vanilla and lilacs up his nose, desire curling in his belly.

They were at risk of turning unfashionably late — but that was a risk Emmrich was willing to take.

Let them wait, he thought, there were more important matters to attend to — like soft lips, and the taste of Rook's lipstick, or the throaty moan she gave him when his tongue licked at the seam of her mouth.

And if they took another hour to become presentable again, well, Myrna would certainly forgive them… eventually.

[maretinelli]

HOME SWEET HOME

Daniel Ricciardo X Wife!fem!reader

Summary: To which Daniel and Y/n are newlyweds and have exchanged their apartment in Monaco for a house in Australia, and the organization is the most fun part.

Words: 2.2K+

Warnings: Wedding, house moves, song mentions, jokes, romantic and cute

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any spelling, grammar, and slang errors that may be present in the story. And of course, if you want any story you can request it on my profile❤️🇧🇷

MASTERLIST

Six months of marriage. It was still a short time, but to Daniel and Yin it felt like they had been together for a lifetime. From the beginning, they knew they wanted to spend every day with each other, to build something big. And little by little, they were making that happen.

That’s why they decided to move out of their luxurious apartment in Monaco and buy a large house in Australia. The extra space would be perfect for their future children, who were not yet on the way but were in their plans for the near future. They wanted a home with a backyard, where the laughter of children could one day echo, and where they could create new memories together.

The move was not sudden. Over the past few months, they had purchased furniture and decorative items online, planning every detail of their new home. Daniel’s mother, always helpful, received all the deliveries, ensuring that when they arrived, they had everything they needed to transform the house into a real home.

And the day of moving finally arrived.

The house was filled with boxes of all sizes. Some heavy, some huge, some smaller and delicate. The challenge now was to organize everything. Daniel and Y/n decided that they would first distribute the boxes in the correct rooms, and then begin assembling and decorating.

Daniel walked through the room carrying a large box, destined for the kitchen.

"If I drop this, at least it's going to the right place. One less trip."

Y/n rolled her eyes and laughed.

The music was playing in the background on one of their cell phones, but unlike what they usually did, neither of them stopped to sing out loud or improvise a performance. The focus was on the change, on the new phase.

As Daniel returned from the kitchen, Y/n opened a box and found something special. A photo album she had put together for him when they had been dating for three years. Her lips curved into a nostalgic smile.

"Danny, look what I found."

He walked over and sat down next to her, picking up the album. As soon as he opened it to the first photo, he let out a surprised laugh.

"Wow, look how new we were here."

Y/n chuckled and looked at him, arching an eyebrow.

"Are you calling us old?"

Daniel laughed out loud. "Not old... but we're past the stage of teenagers in love."

Before Y/n could respond, he pulled her close and began to plant quick kisses all over her face, making her laugh out loud and try to pull away playfully.

"Danny, stop! I'm trying to work!"

He gave her forehead one last kiss before standing up, extending his hand to help her up as well.

"Come on, time to assemble furniture! If we survived planning this move together, assembling a sofa will be easy."

With that, they went back to the original plan: separating the boxes by room before opening everything.

Daniel took the boxes marked 'kitchen' and took them to the right room, while Y/n organized the ones in the 'bedroom' near the stairs, and then asked him for help going up.

But, even though they had agreed on a system, the organization did not last long.

With each box opened, one or the other would call their partner to show them something interesting, give their opinion on where an item should go, or simply share a nostalgic moment. The idea of sorting first and opening later was quickly forgotten, but that only made it more fun. After all, they were building a home, their way.

Y/n was carrying another box to the kitchen when she heard Daniel's voice calling her.

"Honey, come see this!"

She set the box down on the counter and walked to the back porch, where Daniel stood, looking out at the yard with a satisfied smile. As soon as she laid eyes on the view, her eyes widened.

"Oh my God... it looks so much bigger than in the pictures!"

"I know, right?" Daniel agreed, wrapping an arm around her waist. "It'll be perfect for the little Ricciardos to run around and burn off some energy."

Y/n smiled fondly and kissed his cheek before heading back to the kitchen. However, as soon as she entered the room from a different angle, she noticed something.

The mess.

Boxes were scattered everywhere, some open, others stacked haphazardly. The near-perfect plan they had come up with in the beginning? Completely ignored.

"Okay, I think we... made a bit of a mix-up here." Y/n stepped over one of the boxes carefully.

Daniel walked in soon after and his eyes widened as he took in the situation. "This isn't a mess. This is a work of chaos art."

Y/n laughed. "Next time, we'll hire someone to do it for us."

"Or we promise we'll actually follow through on our plan."

They checked that all the boxes destined for the kitchen were there and made a pact: no one would touch anything until the other boxes were in their proper rooms.

They assigned objects to each corner of the house. Kitchen, living room, bathrooms, the upstairs bedrooms, the balcony. Everything in its place.

When they were done, Y/n put her hands on her hips and looked around. "Okay, I guess we could set up some-"

The music changed. The first notes of Snow by Red Hot Chilli Peppers began to play on the cell phone.

"SHUT UP!" Y/n shouted excitedly.

Daniel turned around in fright, but soon burst out laughing.

"What?"

She ignored him and went to her cell phone, turning up the volume. Without hesitation, she began to sing along and dance in an exaggerated and funny way, swinging her arms and moving her body to the rhythm.

Daniel turned to her and smiled, watching the scene.

At the fast part of the song, Y/n tried to follow along, but her British accent made her stumble over the words, and Daniel laughed out loud.

"That was... almost perfect."

"Shut up and dance with me, Ricciardo!"

She grabbed his hand and pulled him, making him spin her around as if they were on an improvised dance floor. They both laughed out loud, enjoying that moment of relaxation.

When the song ended, Daniel hugged Y/n from behind, holding her arms close to her body and kissing her cheek.

"I love you." He murmured.

Y/n blushed, feeling her cheeks heat up. Even after years together, he still had this effect on her.

Daniel turned Y/n to face him and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss started out soft, a perfect fit of affection and familiarity. But, as always, the intensity grew as Daniel deepened the touch, one of his hands coming up to cup her face. Y/n sighed against his lips, allowing herself to sink into the moment, until he smiled against the kiss and pulled away slightly.

"Okay," Daniel said. "Choose a piece of furniture for us to assemble."

Y/n looked around, analyzing the pile of boxes. After a few seconds, she pointed. "The sofa."

"This one is too big. Better leave it for another day."

She pouted and looked again. "Okay... the panel to put the TV on."

"It seems complicated. Better wait for your brothers to arrive."

Y/n chuckled, crossing her arms. "The kitchen cabinet?"

Daniel frowned and let out a dramatic sigh. "So practical and useful... do we really need to assemble it?"

Y/n turned to him and narrowed her eyes, laughing. "You don't want to do anything, do you?"

Daniel threw up his hands. "I just think our organization system was a success. Who needs furniture?"

The two laughed, but in the end, they decided to assemble the TV panel. The process was chaotic.

"Where does this fit?" Y/n asked, holding up a piece.

"Hmm..." Daniel looked at the manual upside down. "Maybe there?"

"Where there? In your head?"

"Haha, less mocking and more screws."

At one point, Y/n lost her balance while trying to hold the panel against the wall.

"DANNY!"

He ran to help her, holding the piece so it wouldn't fall on her while she regained her balance.

After much effort, the panel was finally finished. The two of them took a step back and looked at it proudly.

"THAT!" Daniel smiled. "One down. Just a few thousand more to go scattered around the room."

Y/n rolled her eyes but laughed.

Daniel then began to unpack the TV. Excitedly, he grabbed the bubble wrap and threw it behind him without looking.

"Daniel!"

He turned around and found Y/n covered in plastic, some falling over her head and shoulders.

"Oops." Daniel bit his lip to keep from laughing.

Y/n crossed her arms, feigning a serious expression.

He walked over, taking the plastics from her while popping a few in the process.

"Okay, okay. Forgive me?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Let's put the TV on the dashboard."

She walked over to the furniture and began gesturing. "I think if we fit it in here first and then adjust the brackets, it'll be perfect."

Daniel, however, had another idea. "Or... we put it the other way. First fit the base, then adjust it."

Y/n raised an eyebrow. "This isn't going to work."

"Trust me. It will be perfect!!"

She shrugged and accepted his idea, but she already knew: the first time something went wrong, she wouldn't miss the chance to say I told you so.

Night had come. Time had passed without them noticing, and now they were sitting on the mattress that should have been on the bed - but which, after trying to assemble it and giving up because of the endless pieces, ended up being moved to the living room.

Little by little, the house began to take shape. The TV panel was on the wall—apparently well fixed—the coffee table was assembled and one of the armchairs was finally in place. In the kitchen, the boxes had been organized, and luckily, the custom furniture already installed made the job easier.

Y/n was sitting on the mattress, legs crossed, looking around and analyzing everything they had done that day. That's when Daniel appeared with two glasses and two cans of soda.

"Are we going to have soda in wine glasses today?" Y/n raised an eyebrow, holding back a laugh.

Daniel laughed. "I couldn't find the glasses, much less the wine I brought this morning. So we improvised."

She took one of the glasses from his hand, and Daniel sat down next to her, pouring the soda for her before filling his own glass.

Y/n took a sip, laughing at the situation. "That's too fancy."

"To the changes." Daniel clinked his glass to hers.

She smiled and leaned against the wall behind them, her eyes scanning the room, now much less chaotic than when they arrived. "You know... I love this. I love all of this. This beginning. Us, doing everything together."

Daniel looked at her and smiled. His heart warmed when he saw the sparkle in his wife's eyes. He remembered perfectly the day he saw her for the first time, years ago, in the paddock. She looked completely lost, holding her team badge and trying to find the garage where she was supposed to work. By pure luck or fate, it was the same garage where he was racing that season.

"I still remember the day I first saw you," Daniel commented. "Walking around the paddock like a madwoman, trying to find the right garage.

Y/n laughed. "You scared me that day. You came out of nowhere asking if I was running away from someone."

"And you said you were almost running away from yourself." Daniel laughed and took a sip of his soda. "I should have realized right then that I was screwed."

Y/n rolled her eyes, laughing. "And here we are. Married. Assembling furniture and drinking soda out of wine glasses."

"The new house, the life together... this is just the beginning of a new phase." He smiled.

She nodded, leaning her head on his shoulder and taking a sip of her soda. "New phase, new traditions."

"Like, drinking soda from a glass?"

"Exactly."

After a hot shower - fortunately, the bathroom in their room was already minimally organized - they decided to sleep in the living room, where the mattress was spread out.

Daniel turned off the lights while Y/n closed the blinds in the room. They got under the covers, enjoying each other's warmth.

"Do you think we'll be cool parents?" Y/n asked, her voice soft in the darkness.

Daniel smiled in the dark. "I think so. And if we're not, at least we'll be really funny parents."

Y/n laughed. "I keep imagining them growing up here. Running around the yard, making a mess of the house..."

"And you complaining about the mess."

"And you encouraging them to do more."

Daniel laughed. "They're going to be Ricciardos, love. It's in the DNA."

"I can't wait." Y/n sighed happily.

He kissed the top of her head. "Me neither."

They said goodnight, and silence fell over the room. Only the buzz of the condominium and the wind in the trees outside.

For exactly 30 seconds.

Until a loud crash made them both shrink a little under the blanket. Daniel lifted his head and blinked a few times in the dark.

"Yeah... our TV is on the floor right now."

"I TOLD YOU SO!" Y/n let out a laugh.

Daniel laughed along, pulling her closer and kissing her neck, making her cringe at the tickle.

"I'll never hear the end of this story, will I?"

"Never!!"

They laughed, and Daniel didn't care if the TV was broken or not. None of that mattered. He was happy. He was starting a new phase of his life. And most importantly, it wasn't just with his girlfriend of years.

It was with his wife.

[fizzing-imagines]

always forever with steve!! 💕💕

Always and Forever | Steve Harrington x Reader

Notes: I hope you enjoy this, thank you for your ask!

Words: 601

Warnings: None

"Holy shit, you're alive!", you practically screamed when he unlocked your apartment door. Robin was there with him, helping him walk carefully. "Didn't plan on dying.", he groaned before slouching down on the couch.

"We were at the emergency room, he had to get some stitches.", Robin explained. "But it wasn't anything dangerous, he's completely fine. Just in a bit of...pain." You knew what the injuries were from. You've been with the group ever since all these weird things started happening. But you couldn't help in a while. Someone came between that. "I'll, uh, let you be. Have a nice day and, uh...kiss the baby from me." Robin awkwardly left, although you understood. What do you say in a situation like this?

"What happened to you?", you asked your boyfriend after sitting down next to him. He turned his face towards you, which you then cupped in your hands. "Just...monster, y'know. Wanted a bite of this." He was grinning while you wondered how he could joke in a situation like this. "You could've died, Steve, why are you joking?", you asked in a worried, yet angry, tone. But he only put an arm around your shoulder and kissed the top of your head. "I have too much to come home to. We're always and forever, remember?"

He was so sappy, you couldn't be angry. Instead, you leaned foward and gave him a small kiss on the lips. "We're happy you're back.", you said. Steve smiled at you and tried to get up, but groaned in pain and slumped back on the couch. "I'll get her, Steve. I know what you're up to."

He waited on the couch for a minute before you walked back in with yours and Steve's daughter Ellie. His eyes immediate lit up when he saw her in your arms. "My little baby.", he cooed while putting her on his lap. "Hi, Ellie."

Your 10-month old looked up at him with her big, brown eyes she got from her dad. While he cuddled carefully with your daughter, you had your head on his shoulder.

"We'll always stay together, won't be?", you mumbled after a while. A low hum left his throat before kissing the top of your head. "Of course we will. You, me, Ellie and approximately 5 more Harringtons." You laughed a bit at his words.

"There will be no more Harringtons until I'm a Harrington.", you said, wiggling your fingers in his face. Steve laughed, took your hand and placed a kiss on your ringfinger. "We can do that, once my side doesn't look like minced meat anymore."

Normally, you probably would've asked if he was serious. But now, after he came home like this, you knew it wasn't a joke. He was serious.

"Always and forever, right?"

"Of course.", he replied with a smile. In the meantime, Ellie reached her hands up to touch his face. Neither of you noticed it, being too caught-up by the improv proposal.

"Dada.", she cooed. That's what made you both look at her with wide eyes. "Did she say Dada?", Steve asked while holding her up. "Ellie, say Dada."

"Dada!", she repeated while clapping her hands together with her adorable smile. "Dada."

"Ellie, you smart girl!", you said before kissing her cheek. "That's Dada, you're right!"

Your daughter was showered with kisses and praise by the both of you, with some light teasing from Steve that she said Dada first instead of Mama.

"Next one will say Mama first.", you said while leaning your head back against his shoulder.

"Well, we have always and forever to teach them that."

[lvrgurlblobbu]

day well spent

college!zayne x fem reader

⤿CW: pure fluff

⤿word count: 3.6k

⤿a/n: hello lovelies! this is supposed to be a valentines treat but i got busy with college stuffs so it was kinda delayed. enjoy reading :))

⤿fifth part of code love series | previous part. > next.

ao3.

It’s been four weeks since Zayne officially began courting you. The day after that, he insisted on meeting your sister to ask for her approval as well. Although you assured him that it wasn’t necessary and that your sister would have no objections, he remained firm in his decision. He explained that his parents raised him to seek the permission of those closest to the person he’s courting, and he wanted to honor that tradition.

You also asked him if his parents knew that he was courting you. He smiled and admitted that he always mentioned you whenever he spoke with them. He explained that both of his parents are doctors, and their work often takes them out of the city—or even out of the country—for medical missions. Despite their busy schedules, they always make time to catch up, and you’ve become a frequent topic of conversation.

“Really? You talk about me often?” You asked him, you’re currently sitting at the lounge area of his department’s building as you decided to visit him before you go home.

Zayne’s cheeks flushed slightly, but he didn’t look away. “Yeah, I do,” he admitted, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “I tell them how smart and funny you are… and how being around you makes my day better.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his sincerity.“What do they say about that?” you asked, trying to sound casual despite the warmth rising to your cheeks.

He chuckled, leaning back against the couch. “They’re curious about you now. They want to meet the person who keeps making their son smile like an idiot during phone calls.”

You laughed, the image of Zayne grinning goofily while talking to his parents popping into your head. “Well, I hope I make a good impression when that day comes.

Zayne’s expression softened even more. “You already have,” he said quietly. “Even without meeting you, they’re glad I found someone who makes me happy.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the unspoken feelings hanging in the air. But the comfortable silence was enough. You realized that Zayne wasn’t just courting you; he was already including you in his world, and that meant more than words could express.

You glanced at the time and sighed. “I should get going,” you said, standing up reluctantly.

He stood up with you, his gaze lingering a bit longer before he spoke. “Let me walk you to the bus stop.”

“But what about your next class?” You asked him as he slung your bag on his shoulder.

“It’ll be fine, and I want to make sure you’ll be safe.” He smiled, his eyes warm with reassurance. “Shall we?” He offered his hand, palm open and inviting.

You couldn’t help but smile back, a flutter of comfort settling in your chest. Without a word, you placed your hand above his, feeling the gentle strength in his grip. As you walked side by side, his hand naturally found its place on your lower back, guiding you with a subtle protectiveness that made you feel cherished.

The evening air was cool, a soft breeze rustling through the trees as the sky faded into shades of gold and pink. You could hear the distant hum of the city, but here, in this moment, everything felt quieter—almost like the world had slowed down just for the two of you.

His thumb drew small, absentminded circles against your back, a gesture so subtle yet so grounding. You glanced up at him, catching the way his lips curved into a gentle smile, his gaze fixed forward but clearly aware of every step you took together.

It was as if his presence built a safe haven around you, a place where nothing could reach you but the warmth radiating from his touch. You leaned a little closer, your shoulders brushing, and for a second, you wondered if he could hear the rhythm of your heartbeat matching the steady pace of your footsteps.

Neither of you spoke, but in the comfortable silence, so much was said.

***

A few weeks later, today is Valentine’s day which is also your University’s Foundation Week. Classes were canceled for two weeks to celebrate and there were booths and stalls all over your campus grounds.

You and Zayne agreed to meet at campus, just by the old oak tree near the main entrance. The area was bustling with students, laughter, and music blending into the festive air. As you approached, you spotted him leaning against the tree, his hands tucked in his pockets, a relaxed smile spreading across his face as his eyes found yours.

“Hey,” he called out, pushing off the tree to meet you halfway. “You look… really nice.” His gaze lingered, a subtle warmth coloring his cheeks.

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling a shy smile creep onto your lips. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

He laughed, the sound easy and genuine. “Shall we?” You nodded at him as you intertwined your fingers with his as he led the way inside your campus, guiding you through the crowd. His grip on your hand tightened as you entered, making sure that you won’t get lost.

As you passed by booths filled with games, merch, and food stalls, you noticed how his eyes sparkled upon seeing variety of sweets in the stalls. Zayne glanced at you and his smile is evident and it made your heart flutter.

“I heard their churros are the best, do you want to try?” He asked.

“Of course!” You replied, he smiled at you once again before leading the way. Luckily, the line isn’t as long as you anticipated when you reached the food stall which sells churros and a few other sweets.

You stood beside Zayne, he ordered churros which is good for two persons, two pieces of potato tornados and a milkshake. It hasn’t been long when your orders were now served, you and Zayne decided to sit at the bench underneath a tree to eat your foods.

With a potato tornado in your hand and churros in his, your drinks sat on the bench beside you. Zayne held out a wooden fork, eyeing the cinnamon-sugar-coated churros carefully. Using his hand as a fan, he made sure they were cooled off before taking a piece.

Once he was certain it was safe to eat, he held the churro out to you, his eyes warm with a playful smile. “Here, try it. It’s better when shared.”

You smiled at him before eating the churro, your eyes went wide as you chewed on it. “It tastes amazing,” you said and he chuckled in response before he took a bite of the churros.

“Here, try this as well,” you said, offering him the potato tornado. You used your other hand as a shield to catch any stray cheese powder, making sure it wouldn’t fall directly on his clothes.

Zayne leaned in, taking a bite with a delighted grin, “Mhm, that’s really good.” He said before he took another bite which made you chuckle because there were a few remnants of cheese powder on his cheeks.

“You look silly,” you giggled as you reached for your handkerchief to wipe the powder off his face. He just shook his head as he grabbed another churro and as if you acted on instinct, you leaned in to take the bite from him.

As you were busy munching, you suddenly heard a click. Confused, you glanced over at Zayne, only to find him grinning mischievously, his phone held up in front of him.

“Did you just… take a picture of me?” you asked, your eyes narrowing playfully.

He shrugged, completely unapologetic. “You just looked too cute not to.” He turned the screen to show you the candid shot—your cheeks puffed out as you chewed, eyes wide with surprise.

Your face heated up instantly. “Zayne! Delete that!”

He laughed, tucking his phone away before you could snatch it. “Nope. This one’s a keeper.”

You crossed your arms, pretending to be annoyed. “You’re impossible.”

He leaned in, his voice low and teasing. “If it makes you feel better, it’s now my favorite photo.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the playful annoyance melting into a shy smile. “You’re such an idiot,” you mumbled, but your tone was light, your chest fluttering at the way he looked at you.

“Maybe,” he agreed, his eyes twinkling. “But at least I made you smile.”

And just like that, you realized he was right. You were smiling—unable to stop, even if you tried.

***

After a few giggles and pictures snapped together, you and Zayne strolled once more. What caught your attention was the photobooth tucked in the corner, its vintage design adorned with flashing lights that seemed to beckon you both closer.

Zayne noticed your gaze and grinned, his playful energy impossible to resist. “Zayne.” You called, but as you looked at him, his gaze was already fixed on you. With a smile, you tugged him toward the photobooth, its neon lights reflecting in his eyes.

He let himself be pulled, laughing as you both stumbled inside the tiny space. It was a tight fit, your shoulders pressed together, knees bumping as you tried to get comfortable. The screen lit up, giving you barely any time before the first countdown began.

For your first shot, you and Zayne’s faces were near to each other. You held out two of your fingers poking your cheek as you pouted at the camera. Zayne on the other hand poked leaned closer as he poked his finger on his right cheek.

As soon as the second countdown began, Zayne wrapped his left arm around your shoulder as he pulled you closer to him. Both of you make a peace sign with visible smiles on your faces.

“Okay, quick! What should our next pose be?” you giggled as the last countdown began. You tilted your head to face him, only to find him looking down at you with a wide smile that made his dimples pop. You couldn’t help but lean in closer, your noses gently touching. Lost in the moment, neither of you noticed when the camera clicked, capturing the third shot.

The photo strip printed two copies with a mechanical whir, sliding out as you both tumbled out of the booth, laughing and breathless. Zayne grabbed the strip, his eyes widening as he saw the progression—silly faces, pure laughter, and finally, that close, almost-kiss that left your heart pounding.

“Let me take a look.” You said as you unconsciously intertwined your fingers with his as he gave you the other copy. “Oh, I love how these turned out.”

As you were busy admiring the photo, Zayne’s gaze remained on you. There was a softness in his eyes, his smile lingering as he watched the way your face lit up. The way you laughed at the silly faces, how your fingers gently traced over the last photo—the one where you were so close, your faces barely an inch apart.

He swallowed, his heart thudding as he replayed that moment in his head. It had felt so natural, so right, even if he hadn’t expected it. He opened his mouth, the words forming before he could stop them. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

Your head snapped up, eyes wide in surprise. “What?”

His cheeks flushed, but he didn’t look away. “I mean… the way you’re smiling. It’s… nice.” He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly shy. “Makes the photos look even better.”

You noticed his flushed reaction— how his cheeks and ears turned red, the way he nervously ran his hand through his hair and how he couldn’t even dare to look straight into your eyes.

“Zayne… are you blushing?” you teased, leaning in to get a better look. His eyes widened, and his cheeks grew even redder as he quickly averted his gaze.

“N-No, I’m not!” he protested, his voice higher than usual. He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes. “It’s just… warm out here.”

You let out a small giggle, watching him squirm. “Right. Must be that blazing eighty-degree weather,” you teased, glancing up at the clear, breezy sky. You were about to tease him more, but then you heard two familiar voices calling out for the both of you.

As you turned your head, you saw Tara and Simone running towards your direction, their faces lit up with excitement. You smiled, waving as they skidded to a stop in front of you, slightly out of breath.

“There you two are!” Tara exclaimed, hands on her hips as she caught her breath. “We’ve been looking all over for you!”

Simone’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as she looked between you and Zayne, her gaze dropping to your intertwined fingers. A sly grin spread across her face. “Well, well, what did we miss?”

You felt your face heat up, and instinctively, you tried to pull your hand away, but Zayne held on firmly, his own cheeks tinged pink. “Nothing much,” he said, his tone casual despite the way his thumb was gently stroking the back of your hand. “Just taking some photos.”

Tara’s eyes widened, immediately zeroing in on the photo booth behind you. “Oh! Did you guys take one of those cute photo strips?”

You and Zayne both looked at each other before nodding gently. Tara groaned dramatically. “Oh, come on! Show us!”

Zayne smirked, patting his pocket. “Sorry, but these are classified. For our eyes only.”

Simone looked at you, her expression pleading. “You’re really not going to share?”

You shook your head, laughing. “Nope. But trust me, they turned out great.”

Tara crossed her arms, pretending to pout. “Fine. But you owe us details later.” She paused, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “And I expect all the details.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to act nonchalant even as your heart raced. “We’ll see about that.”

Simone linked her arm through yours, already steering you away. “Come on, then! We were just about to grab some snacks. You two lovebirds joining us or what?”

You glanced at Zayne, who still hadn’t let go of your hand. His smile was soft, his eyes warm as he gave your fingers a gentle squeeze. “Yeah,” he answered, his voice steady. “We’re coming.”

Together, the four of you walked off, laughter echoing as the teasing continued. And though the photo strip remained tucked away, the memory of that almost-kiss—and everything it meant—was impossible to hide.

***

As the sun had already set, the sky painted in shades of deep purple and navy, Zayne offered you a ride home. Of course, you didn’t refuse, the idea of spending a little more time with him too tempting to pass up.

The car ride was comfortable, the faint hum of the engine blending with the soft music playing from the radio. Streetlights cast a warm glow through the windows, illuminating his face in fleeting intervals. You couldn’t help but steal a glance now and then, admiring the way his jaw tightened as he focused on the road, his hands relaxed on the steering wheel.

“You know,” he began, breaking the silence, “today was… pretty great.” His voice was casual, but there was a tenderness there, a vulnerability you weren’t used to hearing from him.

You smiled, leaning back against the seat. “Yeah, it really was.“

The rest of the drive was filled with light conversation and laughter, the kind that felt easy and effortless. Before long, he was pulling up in front of your house, the porch light casting a warm glow across the yard.

Zayne put the car in park but didn’t make any move to leave. Instead, he turned to you, his expression softer now. “Hey… thanks for today. Really.”

You looked at him, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his voice. “No… thank you. I had an amazing time.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you charged with anticipation. Zayne’s eyes flicked down to your lips, his jaw tightening slightly as if he was debating something.

“Oh, before I forgot—“ He muttered as he unclasped his seatbelt to grab something from the backseat. To your surprise he’s already holding a beautifully arranged bouquet of flowers wrapped in white paper and tied with a light blue ribbon. The bouquet features a delicate mix of white and pale blue blooms, including roses and small, airy flowers resembling baby’s breath.

“Zayne-“ your breath hitched as he gave the bouquet to you.

“I inserted something in there.” He said, then you noticed a piece of paper tucked underneath the flowers. You placed the bouquet in your lap as you began to unfold the paper.

Your heart began to race as you saw a beautiful sketch of yourself. The lines were delicate, capturing every detail with surprising accuracy—the curve of your smile, the sparkle in your eyes, even the way your hair fell around your face. It was breathtaking, almost surreal, to see yourself through someone else’s eyes.

You looked up, your gaze locking with Zayne’s. He was watching you intently, his expression soft, almost vulnerable. “Do you… like it?” he asked, his voice hesitant, as if he was unsure of himself for once.

A lump formed in your throat, emotions swirling as you looked back at the sketch. “Zayne… this is incredible. I… I didn’t even know you could draw.”

He let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… it’s just a hobby. I don’t show my drawings to many people.” His eyes softened as he continued, “But… I wanted you to see this one.”

Your heart skipped a beat, warmth flooding your chest as you realized the effort and thought he’d put into this. “You drew this… for me?”

He looked away, his cheeks tinged pink. “Yeah. I… couldn’t get you out of my head, so… this happened.” He glanced back at you, his gaze intense. “I wanted to capture the way you looked that day at the park…when you were laughing.”

Your breath caught, the memory flashing in your mind—the two of you strolling at the park, your face lit up with laughter, Zayne watching you with that same look in his eyes. “You… remembered that?”

“Of course I did,” he said softly. “I remember everything about you.”

Emotion tightened your throat, and you blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. You reached out, your fingers brushing over the paper delicately, as if afraid you’d smudge the beautiful lines. “I love it. I really do.”

His shoulders relaxed, relief washing over his face. “I’m glad.”

You looked at him, your heart full. “Thank you, Zayne. This… this means more to me than you know.”

His eyes softened, his voice a gentle whisper. “You mean more to me than you know.”

Your breath hitched, your heart racing once more. But this time, it wasn’t because of the sketch—it was because of him. The both of you stared at each other for a few moments before you broke the silence.

“It’s already getting late, I’ll head inside so you can go home.” You said as you folded the paper and tucked it back underneath the flowers. “Thank you for today Zayne, for keeping me company during the University fair, and for these gifts. I had so much fun.”

“It is my pleasure and I could say that as well.” He smiled at you, “Thank you [Name].”

The both of you settled in a comfortable silence. You stared at his hazel-green eyes as you thought of something cheeky. So, you leaned your face closer and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “Be safe, goodnight.”

You giggled at his expression when he was suddenly caught off guard by your sudden kiss. You immediately gathered your things before opening the car door and ran inside your house, not even bothering to steal another glance at Zayne because you could already feel your cheeks heating up.

As soon as you got inside, you immediately got a text notification from Zayne.

Zayne: That was sneaky

You giggled as you hovered your fingers to type a reply.

You: You should’ve seen your reaction lol. Drive safe okay? Message me once you got home :))

Then, it hasn’t been a minute passed when you received another reply.

Zayne: Yes I will. Thank you again for today <3

Your heart fluttered once more as you saw his reply. You placed your phone back in your bag as you went upstairs to take a shower.

Once finished, you slipped into comfortable pajamas and made your way to your room. Without another thought, you plopped onto your bed, sinking into the softness as you hugged your pillow close. A giddy laugh escaped your lips, muffled by the fabric, as the memories of the day played like a movie behind your closed eyes.

You turned your head, your gaze falling on the bouquet resting on your nightstand, its delicate petals catching the soft glow of your bedside lamp. Beneath them, the folded sketch was safely tucked away, a beautiful reminder of the man who had given it to you.

Your phone buzzed once more, and you grabbed it eagerly, heart skipping as his name appeared on the screen.

Zayne: Just got home. Sweet dreams :)

You couldn’t help the warmth that spread through you, your fingers dancing over the screen as you typed back:

You: Sweet dreams, Zayne. Today was the best.

You set your phone aside, still clutching the pillow as a contented sigh left your lips. Today really was perfect—better than you ever could’ve imagined. You hadn’t just spent the day at the University fair; you’d made memories, and shared laughter.

As your eyes grew heavy and sleep began to claim you, one thought lingered, wrapping itself around you like a comforting embrace:

Being with him just felt right.

dividers by: @saradika-graphics

[alacants]

Ok ok I have a scenario. What happens if carlos alcaraz doesn't happen. Like what would happen if this big blinding ball of energy and sunshine, magic kid and saviour of tennis and whatever just didn't exist. WHAT happens then???

you KNOW i love a good What If!

i mean what carlos did was drive the bleeding edge of the youngest generation right up against the fading end of the big four era. like roger announcing his retirement 4 days after carlitos won his first slam is really something. that i didn't put together until just this minute. (yeah the writing was on the wall but let me have my NARRATIVE.) 

so without carlos, maybe someone's doing that but maybe not. maybe the 90s kids who've been smothered their whole careers get to breathe?? a couple extra years in the sun before the shadow of jannik sinner descends??

i mean OR MAYBE NOT maybe jannik wins that uso qf and goes all the way. (rip casper.) but tbh i think that even if he does it wouldn't be quite as much of a shock to the system—the three years of up and downs from 2019 to 2022 soften the effect into a more natural progression. as opposed to carlos rolling up to win his first 500, masters, and major—TWO majors—all in the same year. this fucking kid lmao. so maybe jannik (or holger! or someone else!) steps in and takes some of carlos' titles, but even if that happens i bet you anything the impact is less paralyzing and the mid-gen still manage to like. rack up some results. believe in themselves. lmao.

and for that matter, that's if we assume jannik develops similarly to irl—i'm sort of intrigued by the counterfactual where jannik doesn't make the jump from piatti quite so quickly. like, he's EOY top 10, he's won some titles, so what if he isn't beating medvedev or tsitsipas or rafole or making it past the early slam rounds, neither is anyone else his age. yet.

having said that i don't think the dissatisfaction jannik felt with where things stood in early 2022 had all that much to do with the presence or absence of carlos in particular (who was also not doing most of those things yet) so for now we'll set that aside. 

anyway so. without carlos, the big rivalry among the younguns is jannik and holger. hahahahaha. and, look, i bet it's not as thorny as it is irl because you don't have the ready-made big three comparisons, holger is probably way better adjusted??? yeah i'm thinking this is who the big winner of a carlosless universe is. holger rune. jannik is (at first) an attainable level of rival and it's not like there's someone else leaving both of them in the dust! meanwhile holger-novak becomes the djokoraz of this universe. and without carlos who was literally born to be a media beloved, holger's the next-best material—like yeah he's ~dramatic and ~controversial but he gives them more than jannik. so what you have is ljfkldajf janholger is the new fedal. no, the new rafole. help i can't stop laughing. i hope jannik is visited by a dream vision of this universe someday.

M E A N W H I L E what is happening at the juan carlos ferrero tennis academy? i mean, it's a normal tennis academy. juanki has a normal job cultivating the youth. it is a little bit crazy to think of the effect that carlos had on juanki's stature and career. like otherwise juanki has the zverev experience and is like oh HELL no—or. hm. actually this is a different and fascinating question, ha, was juanki itching to get back into top-level tennis badly enough that even after getting burned by the zverev experience he would have given it another shot with a non-carlos player. or would it have redirected him definitively back to the academy. 

…….this train of thought is colliding with the discarded counterfactual above + the tidbit that jannik allegedly almost went to rafa nadal academy to produce an outcome that from a pure storytelling perspective i should have anticipated yet somehow didn't see coming. hope you enjoyed witnessing the thought process in real time.

RIGHT so what happens if carlos alcaraz doesn't exist is: juanki coaches jannik to a gripping career rivalry with holger rune. TA DA.

/user alacants out

[batboysanonymous]

Birds of a Feather

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel was a complication Y/N never asked for, a shadow that haunted her steps with the weight of everything unspoken between them. But when the line between hate and desire begins to blur, she realizes too late—he was never her enemy to begin with.

Based on the song: BIRDS OF A FEATHER by Billie Eilish

───────────────────────────────

I want you to stay

'Til I'm in the grave 'Til I rot away, dead and buried

The tension between them was a living, breathing thing. It clung to Y/N’s skin like the mist that rolled in from the Sidra, thick and inescapable, filling every inch of space between her and the male who had spent the last century making her want to scream in frustration—or maybe something far more dangerous.

Azriel stood across from her now, his arms crossed, his jaw tight. He always looked like that around her, like he was seconds away from either killing her or shoving her against the nearest surface.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she snapped, shifting her weight on her feet, trying to ignore the way his shadows curled around his shoulders like they were whispering her name.

Azriel cocked his head, his lips curving in something that wasn’t quite a smirk but close enough to make her chest tighten. “Like what?”

“Like you’re—” She cut herself off, exhaling sharply. “Like you’re trying to figure out if I’m worth the trouble.”

Something dark flickered in his hazel eyes. “I know exactly how much trouble you are.”

Y/N’s fingers twitched at her sides, itching to throw something at him. Or to pull him closer. She couldn’t decide which would be more satisfying. “Then why the hell do you keep looking at me like that?”

Azriel was in front of her before she could take another breath, his scent of night-chilled wind and cedar filling her lungs. He wasn’t touching her, not yet, but his presence pressed against her like an unseen force. “Because I don’t know if I have the strength to stay away from you.”

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I know

I said I’d never think I wasn’t better alone

Y/N had always told herself she didn’t need anyone. That she was stronger alone.

Azriel tested that resolve at every turn.

He didn’t make things easy for her, never had. He challenged her, provoked her, made her blood simmer in a way no one else ever had.

And yet, she still found herself drawn to him.

Which was why she should have seen it coming when he cornered her in the training ring after yet another spar that had ended with neither of them winning—just bruised, breathless, and dangerously close to breaking whatever thread kept them from falling into something they couldn’t come back from.

“Say it,” he murmured, voice low, rough.

Y/N swallowed hard, heart slamming against her ribs. “Say what?”

“That you want me.” Azriel’s wings flared slightly, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “That you think about me when you shouldn’t.”

Y/N clenched her jaw, hating how easily he saw through her. Hating that she wanted to give in.

“I don’t,” she lied.

Azriel exhaled sharply, a humorless chuckle escaping him. “You’re so full of shit.”

Before she could stop herself, she reached out, gripping the front of his tunic and pulling him closer. The moment his body pressed against hers, the world tilted on its axis.

His breath hitched. Her own lungs burned.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet.

It was fire and fury and the answer to every unspoken thing that had passed between them.

And I don’t know what I’m crying for

I don’t think I could love you more It might not be long, but baby, I I’ll love you ‘til the day that I die

Y/N should have known it wouldn’t be simple.

Loving Azriel was never going to be easy.

It was in the way he hesitated before reaching for her, as if he still wasn’t convinced he was allowed to have her. In the way his shadows wrapped around her in sleep, possessive even when he was unconscious. In the way he always looked at her like she was both the best and worst thing that had ever happened to him.

“You don’t have to stay,” he told her one night, his voice quiet, almost too quiet.

Y/N frowned, shifting onto her side to look at him in the dim candlelight. “Do you want me to leave?”

Azriel was silent for a long moment. Then, so softly she almost didn’t hear it—

“If you go, I’m going too.”

Her throat tightened.

Because she knew he meant it.

Because she had never wanted to stay anywhere more.

So she reached for him, her fingers threading through his, her lips brushing over his scarred knuckles. “Then I guess you’re stuck with me.”

Azriel exhaled slowly, and when he kissed her again, it felt like a promise.

One she had no intention of breaking.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Want to join my tag list? Drop a comment or check out this link to submit a specific series you would like tagged in! (Or if you just don't want to comment, that's okay too)

[merulanoir]

(my arm is in a sling, but i have too many story ideas rattling around in my head so i'm typing this one out here before it escapes)

The thing is: Ghost doesn't help Soap in Las Almas.

He makes his way out of the city, and when he receives Soap's comms, he agrees to wait for one hour before being on his way. Against all odds, Soap makes the RV with something like three and a half minutes to spare, nearly delirious with pain but still alive.

And the thing is: Ghost can tell Soap is hurt by the fact that Ghost didn't wait for him. They both know it was the tactically sensible decision: one of them had to live to get word out to Price, and Ghost made a call. Ghost knows why Soap isn't his usual chatty, confident self on the drive. It could be the exhaustion and the gunshot wound and the blood loss, but Ghost has seen Soap with multiple broken bones and still cracking (hah) jokes.

Ghost knows Soap thinks himself expendable. They all are, as soldiers, ultimately, some more than others. Soap thinks that Ghost thinks so; he did, in a way, and as they drive to the safe house, Ghost admits to himself that he feels a twinge of guilt. He thinks his call was the right one, but he likes Soap.

(He hasn't let himself examine the feeling yet, that comes later: to be exact, it comes about a day later, when he sees Hassan dragging Soap towards the broken window.)

Ghost has worked solo for several years, and even after the joined the Task Force, he still spent a decent chunk either on his own and/or dark. Instead of diving right back, he pulls Price aside in Chicago and makes an off-hand comment about Soap, something that would sound casual to anyone who didn't know him and his shtick.

Price does understand what he's not-requesting: I wanna work with Soap.

Ghost spends almost a full year with Soap attached to his hip and trying to...not make amends, but to show that he doesn't consider Soap expendable. Anything but, because by October 2023, Soap has started calling him Simon and they're on the verge of something neither of them is brave enough to put a name to. It bleeds through quiet, tired moments, when Ghost consciously lets himself relax obviously enough that Soap can't not notice, and it's heavy in the air during downtime spent at the pub, Ghost's mask hiked over his nose to sip his drink, pretending he doesn't notice how Soap steals glances at him.

Then: Makarov escapes.

They race to Urzikstan, to the Mediterranean, to Siberia, Kastovia, and finally to London, and Ghost is unable to shake the creeping feeling that he's out of time. That he made a mistake, somewhere, and didn't notice, and now it's too late to fix anything.

He and Gaz are too late.

For the first time during his military career, Simon Riley doesn't fight it when Price tells him to take time off.

Here's the thing: Ghost started to regret leaving Soap behind when he realised Soap wouldn't have made the same call in his shoes. Soap would have stayed and helped Ghost. Not because it was the tactical or clever option, but because it was the right thing to do. Probably also because Soap had decided they were friends.

Thing is: Ghost was a coward. He feels like he was robbed; after a year of working together, he and Soap were almost there, Ghost had been dropping hints for months, wishing that Soap would be bold enough to finally assume the interest was mutual and...

He doesn't let himself think about it, but it returns to him when he manages to trick his body into exhausted sleep. He had a year to get his shit together and apologise to Soap, to tell him he was essential instead of replaceable, to confess he didn't want to work alone anymore because he had finally found something better. That he didn't want to live alone anymore because...

He's expected back at the garrison the next day. He goes to bed not expecting to catch any rest like most nights. He has a fleeting sense of surprise when his body grows heavy and consciousness slips away.

He opens his eyes to catch raindrops through his mask. The air is heavy with thunder he can hear rolling closer. Ghost blinks, disoriented, until there's a rattle on gunfire in the distance. Instinct makes him crouch behind a car, melt into the shadows.

When he looks up, he sees the lit tower of the church. For a moment, it blurs into nonsensical mess of gold and black, until...

"This is Bravo 7-1 in the blind, how copy?"

Soap has been dead for fifteen days, and now he's not: his voice is back where it belongs, in Ghost's ears. Maybe Ghost has finally snapped and gone insane. He's back in Las Almas, Soap is alive, those are the immediate facts.

"Ghost, this is 7-1, do you copy?"

Last time, Ghost didn't respond until he got away from the city. He just ignored Soap until he was reasonably certain he got away.

This time, Ghost reaches a shaking hand to the headset.

"Johnny?"

He doesn't know if things are predetermined. Maybe he'll only make it worse by responding and abandoning his initial plan.

All he can think about is that this time, he won't look Johnny in the eye and know he had to survive alone.

[eclipixels]

OMG HIIII um SO

imagine getting married to isagi… the wedding night, reader and isagi now in their new house. isagi taking off reader wedding gown but being SUPER gentle and slow with it, like you could break if he does more. just appreciating every part of reader… i think it would be so cute i wanna marry him

requesting my night thoughts here is my guilty pleasure

Delicate Start

Yoichi Isagi x Reader

[1,094 words]

     The door clicks shut behind you, the soft sound swallowed by the quiet hum of your new home. Your home. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, a sweet thrill settling in your chest. You turn to look at him. Your husband.

     Isagi stands just a few steps away, bathed in the dim glow of the bedroom lights, his baby blue eyes softer than you've ever seen them. There's a nervous energy in the air, not from uncertainty, but from the overwhelming weight of the moment. This is real. He is yours, and you are his.

     "We're married..." you whisper, testing the words on your tongue, as if saying them aloud will ground you.

     A slow, almost disbelieving smile spreads across his lips. "Yeah," he breathes. "We're married."

     For a moment, neither of you move, just standing there, absorbing the sheer magnitude of what has changed, yet feeling as though nothing has changed at all. The world outside keeps spinning, the city hums in the distance, but here, in this space, time has stretched out, wrapping around the two of you like a warm cocoon.

     You step out of your heels, letting them fall carefully by the door. The weight of the day lingers in your body, but so does the exhilaration, the rush of laughter and love that carried you through the ceremony, the reception, the endless congratulations. Now, in the stillness of your home, it's just the two of you.

     Isagi runs a hand through his dark hair, messing it slightly, a habit you’ve grown to love. His tie is already loosened, his suit jacket draped over a chair by the window. He must have done that the second you walked in, too lost in thought to remember. He looks at you like he’s trying to memorize everything. The way your dress moves as you shift, the slight tremble in your fingers, the glow in your eyes that matches his own.

     He steps closer, slow and deliberate, until there’s barely any space between you. His hand lifts, brushing against your cheek, fingertips ghosting over your skin like he's afraid you might disappear. "You’re beautiful," he murmurs, before continuing almost to himself. "You’re real."

     You lean into his touch, letting out a breathy laugh. "I hope so. Otherwise, we both just had the same dream."

     His chuckle is warm, settling deep in your chest. "Wouldn’t be the worst dream."

     He tilts his head, his lips hovering just above yours, but he doesn’t kiss you yet. Instead, he lets the moment stretch, lets the anticipation build, because this isn't just any kiss, this is the first kiss of forever.

     Your fingers tangle in the front of his shirt, pulling him that last inch closer, and when your lips finally meet, the world shifts. The kiss is slow, unhurried, filled with the kind of tenderness that speaks of promises made and promises yet to come. He tastes like champagne and something uniquely him, something you've come to crave over the years.

     When you part, your foreheads rest together, breaths mingling. "I love you," you whisper, the words coming so easily, like they've always been waiting for this moment.

     His smile is radiant, his arms tightening around you. "I love you too."

     Isagi takes his time, eyes tracing over you like he’s memorizing every detail, every delicate embellishment of your wedding gown. The soft glow of the dimmed lights casts a golden hue over the intricate embroidery, the pearls that catch the light, the lace that clings to your skin like a whispered promise. His fingers twitch at his sides before he finally lifts one hand, reaching for yours. When your palms meet, his grip is warm, steady, reassuring, grounding you in this moment, in him.

     "Can I?" he asks, voice so gentle it makes your breath hitch.

     You nod, a silent invitation. The air between you is thick with anticipation, heavy with something unspoken but deeply understood. His other hand comes up, fingers brushing against the lace on your shoulder, featherlight yet purposeful. He handles you like you are something fragile, something sacred. The fabric of your gown is delicate, but he treats it as if you are the one who might break.

     Slowly, painstakingly, he undoes the tiny buttons lining your back. Each movement is careful, precise, his fingertips grazing your skin with a reverence that makes warmth pool in your chest. The faint sound of the zipper slipping free echoes in the quiet room, a rhythm in sync with the soft, unsteady breaths between you. The gown loosens around you, slipping from your shoulders as he inches it down with deliberate slowness, as if he’s unraveling something more than just fabric, like he’s unraveling the last remnants of hesitation, until there is nothing left between you but this undeniable pull.

     "You’re enchanting," he murmurs, so quietly you almost think you imagined it. But when you glance up at him, his gaze is reverent, full of something deeper than admiration. Love. Undeniable, unwavering love.

     He peels the dress away bit by bit, baring more of your skin to the cool air. But you don’t feel cold. Not when Isagi is looking at you like this, his hands steady but his breath uneven. His knuckles skim over your arms, your waist, your back, but it never feels rushed. If anything, it feels like he’s trying to slow down time, to savor every second, to burn the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips into his brain. Like if he was any less gentler, he’d break you.

     When the gown finally pools at your feet, Isagi doesn’t step away. His hands find your waist, thumbs brushing over your skin in slow, soothing circles. He draws you in, so close you can feel the way his heartbeat stutters, the way his breath shudders as he exhales. His forehead rests against yours, and in that quiet moment, the weight of forever settles between you, not as something daunting, but as something precious.

     He presses a kiss to your temple, a silent vow, an unspoken promise that needs no words. His hands tighten just slightly at your waist, like he’s anchoring himself to you, to this night, to the love that binds you together. He continues his kisses on your body, making sure you understand just how much love he gives with each. He plans on worshiping your body for the rest of his life. And as you close your eyes, breathing him in, you know with absolute certainty that this is where you belong. With him. Always.

[lemotmo]

My god give this to me!!!!

Q. Do you think they might actually go the unrequited route? I mean not permanently but do you think they might let Buck pine for a few episodes before Eddie has his realization moment?

A. I personally don't see them going this route. That doesn't mean they won't, but I just don't see the show putting the audience in the position of having to watch Buck pine for someone who isn't an option for him. The audience is pretty protective when it comes to Buck, I mean we love him most but we beg for them to drop a car on top of him, lol. The audience in general is pretty protective of him. They've watched him grow up so watching him set himself up for heartbreak is just not something I think the show will do. That route also puts Eddie in an unfair situation with the audience. Doesn't mean they won't do it. Doesn't mean they can't do it and do it really successfully. I just don't personally see it happening that way.

I still think we're going to get a fairly mutual realization, maybe not in the same episode but back to back episodes at least. I think neither one will tell the other for fear that the feelings aren't reciprocated. So I think we'll kind of get mutual pinning. I think Buck will confide in Maddie about his feelings. I'm not sure if Eddie will tell someone or if we'll just see Eddie's realization moment. I think one or both of them will have some kind of accident or incident on the job where one or both of them believe they're dying and they don't want to die without the other knowing how they feel. Oliver talking about an overnight shoot in the rain pretty much reinforces my belief in that. Rain is just such a Buddie thing on this show. And I don't see Tim being able to resist the big dramatic 'I love you ' where they're concerned. It's been 7 years in the making so I don't see it being a quiet moment. I think the show will go all in for the drama of it all. And they will get their quiet moment together after the fact.

I will say that I've seen a couple of posts and received a couple of asks urging people to remain skeptical because queerbaiting is very real and often intentionally used by shows to attract viewers. That is absolutely true but this show has never intentionally, verbally and openly queerbaited before. And Oliver doesn't talk about it a lot for fear of being accused of misleading people. Oliver would simply not do that. He's bent over backwards for 7 years to make sure he never even accidentally said something that could get him accused of doing that. I simply do not believe Tim, the show and especially Oliver would knowingly and deliberately bait like that. Ryan has been just as careful to try and avoid doing anything like that. I just don't believe that's what's happening here. For gods sake people let yourselves be excited.

Thank you Nonny! Much appreciated!

This was made and posted after the Oliver interview!

Nope, an unrequited storyline isn't going to happen. I'm even more convinced that this won't happen than Ali.

It wouldn't make sense in the grand scheme of things. We've seen that Eddie has started to look for joy, right at the moment when Buck will realise he is in love with him. For years now Eddie's relationships with women have fizzled out because he never felt that he could fully commit for some reason. Yet they keep showing us the close bond he has with his best friend.

No uhuh, Buck is going to figure it out and Eddie is going to come to some conclusions of his own while in El Paso. It will take them some time to actually act upon their feelings, because that is how these stories go. But the end-result will always be fully realised canon Buddie.

I also firmly believe that there is no queerbait going on here. They are too upfront about it.

Believe what you see this time. Allow yourself to believe it.

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[starlit-rook]

I am physically incapable of choosing a sole partner for Rook because *picks up all the Companions and shakes them* I mean, just look at them! I'm supposed to only want one! This is still very WIP levels, since this is the first time I've actually sat down and described their relationships together, so some of them are very sparse atm.

So, yeah, they're all a web of romantic/platonic/whatever they want -to call it, group.

Lucanis and Emmrich are Lance's main squeezes. (I've been contemplating a Blighted Treviso with Lucanis and Lance getting together officially later after the game but haven't made a decision yet). Primarily he lives with either one or the other.

Emmrich is the main one Lance pursued, since he was the eldest of the group, it felt good to have that sort of stability with someone whose been through things and knew what he wanted. He becomes a lich because of Lance's encouragement, though with the way I'm spinning my story, Manfred is still around (the way that whole thing spun out in-game still frustrates me.) They do dates when they can, proper fine dining and touring places dates, as well as funeral planning dates. Being Dalish and growing up in the Crows, Lance has a much more open mind about topics such as death. When Lance finds unconscious Nevarran habits creeping into his mannerisms, Emmrich about proposes to him on the spot. Lucanis: it took a long, long time for anything more than fleeting romantic feelings to bloom between them. They were able to develop a close friendship after the Blighting of Treviso, a small miracle with how Lucanis buried himself deep away from others. There's a key moment, in the Lighthouse, when Lucanis comes across Lance trying to keep himself together after so much has happened, that it starts to crack Lucanis's walls. They both have this sort of 'will be the leader but also needs someone to follow' personality that lets them swap the roles between them, a relief to know that if they need it, all they have to do is lay their head down on the other's lap and all their leadership responsibilities and titles and all that junk is flung out the door for a short respite. There's a big piece of Lance that will forever be guilty of what happened with Treviso, even though logically he knows it's not his fault. Spite, of all people, is able to soothe him the most of this (Lucanis also logically knows this, but it's difficult putting that kernel of hurt away.)

Taash and Davrin are big, big friends with benefits types. Taash and Lance share a strong bond through queerness; Lance transitioned when he was fairly young, been through all this shit for years at this point, so being able to guide Taash through that minefield has them thick as thieves. They do a lot of the more outlandish/frisky things together that Taash usually wouldn't do with Lace. Davrin: found they make better friends than full-time lovers, though their heartstrings do tug on them more often than they'd like. Lance is neither an animal person nor a parent type, so while his support in Davrin figuring out how to deal with Assan, it wasn't the best. (Assan though does now have a firm favorite spot in Lance's heart). Like with Bellara, they bonded over their shared Dalish history, both of them having left the Clan at a young age for various reasons.

Harding, as sweet of a woman as she is, she also reminds Lance of one of his prior relationships a little too much, so he keeps this relationship in the friendzone. (It was Bobber, a fellow Dalish elf who was the sweetest boy around, able to get past Lance's walls and bring out the softness in him.) OTOH, because of his prior relationship, Lance is much more equipped to deal with Lace's problems with dealing with the Titan's anger and her own lack of self.

Neve: Friends/Business partners with benefits. Lance adores hunting down clues and studying people with her! Once getting past each others walls, they make sure to check in on the other, that they're taking care of themselves and generally not running themselves into the ground. Lance encourages a sense of freedom and security in Neve that is hard to find elsewhere. Meanwhile Neve will help keep Lance's feet on the ground.

Bellara: girlfriend, shares her primarily with Neve (look girlfriends can still have sisterhood together, okay?) She has the ability to work with ancient tech and such that boggles Lance; he can pull people apart like nothing but give him an artifact and he'll be blowing up the continent. He delights in sitting nearby after a long day, asking a question or two about what she's doing, and sitting back and basking in her knowledge. Does he understand half of what's going on? No. Does he greatly enjoy these sessions? Yess. Bellara very much appreciates him being her wall to bounce ideas off of. Their time together is often spent staying weeks out in the wilderness, exploring whatever they can find to bring back to the Lighthouse, the other Veil Jumpers, etc.

They all still work in the Lighthouse, it's become a sort of stronghold for their group, expanding and shrinking as need be. Every few months they try to all get together and have a big reunion, share stories, experiences, knowledge and indulge in others they haven't seen in a while.

And then, there's Solas. A whole different and very unique kettle of fish that requires its own post. Though for a small detail of them; Solas was tricked into the Fade and can still talk to Rook, their blood bond unbroken.

Rook Introduction Hour 2/14/25

Happy Valentine's Day! I hope everyone celebrating is having a wonderful time! 💞💖❣️🧑🏾‍❤️‍💋‍🧑🏿👩🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏽👨🏾‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏼💌🩵🫶🏼🥰💝💘❣️

How it works: I ask you a question about your Rook(s) and you answer it with as much brevity or verbosity as you desire. You can do this whenever you want, and I’ll reblog it + add some comments! There’s no time limit— if you want to do the older ones, they are collected here! (The post is updated on Fridays!)

🎶 L is for the way you look at me /O is for the only one I see /V is very, very extraordinary /E is even more than anyone that you adore! 🎶

Today's Question(s): NOW it's all about 💕Romantic love💕! Who is/are your Rook's LI(s)? Do they go on dates together frequently? Where do they like to go together? What's the most romantic thing that Rook's ever done for them? That they've ever done for Rook? If they had unlimited time and money, and no obligations, what would they do for each other? Is there anything Rook or their LI(s) want to say to each other that they haven't yet, for some reason? If they were to settle down together, would they want to start a family? Do you have any headcanons about anything they did together during the game that wasn't shown? And lastly, do you have any pictures of Rook and their LI(s) that you want to share?

Hopefully there are enough questions for everyone to find something they're excited about! Have fun, and thanks for sharing!

(Also, if you are looking for more DA themed Valentine's day content, taamlok made a new romance themed ask game, and corvus-frugilegus is sending silly valentines! And those of you playing on PC can also download the Veilguard of Love mod that metamancer-io made, and turn your Veilguard romantic! Hope you have fun!)

[crescentfool]

with the year coming to a close, i hope that anyone who's reflecting about how the year went remembers to be kind and fair to themselves with how you evaluate the year as a whole.

i think there are definitely times when life throws things that are... Not So Great at you. whether if it's some external circumstance that surprised you, or maybe your mentality wasn't at it's best. i wish for anyone who's encountered those kinds of challenges to be able to triumph over them and be able to say that they got through it.

heck, it might still be a work in progress even though you've kept chipping away at it, and that's ok! the results will show themselves eventually as you work through it! and i hope that we can all remember to be patient with ourselves as we go through these processes (learning, healing, etc.), because damn, it can be frustrating when you feel like you're "not there yet."

knowing that life can be rough at times, i think it's unfair to yourself (and others) to discount and downplay any progress you've made this year- whether if it's something that you did for the first time, or maybe you came to a new understanding and insight that you didn't have in the previous year.

it's not to say that you should undermine the validity of your experience with hardship, but to take the time to remind yourself what makes life worth living. to recall what moments were the most satisfying to you- and use it to strengthen your resolve for the next year and beyond. no amount of hardship will ever take away from the fact that you deserve to have hope that things will get better.

i hope that looking back on the year, you don't leave out the things you cherish. that you can remember the good that came this year. whether if the small victories are things like meeting someone new, trying something out for the first time, or making some strides in a long-term project/obligation...!

i wish everyone a happy new year! may it be prosperous, and that your life can move in a direction that's close to what you want out of life. you're all going to do great! remember to congratulate yourself for what you did well! despite everything, you're still here, and that's wonderful. never forget that!

[aly4khq]

. · ˚✧ #GRAVITY'S GRACE!

ׂ╰┈➤ WHO? — caleb from l&ds

ׂ╰┈➤ WHAT? — caleb's return took a few turns, and by a few i mean a freaky amount.

ׂ╰┈➤ WARNINGS? — angst to slight!fluff to smut to fluff || fighting, arguing, sědatives, fâinting, restraints, evol usage, kissing, èating ôut, p in v, dirty talk, bondage, slight spanking, sqúírting, grínding, màrking.

ׂ╰┈➤ WORD COUNT? — 3.1K (wowzers!)

ׂ╰┈➤ WRITER'S NOTE? — guys i'm sorry for being absent for so long!! christmas and new years kicked my ass. hope that i can reward you with a small oneshot about my bestie's return.

❝ Did you honestly think I would always be the kindhearted boy in your childhood? ❞

He was back. You watched the house burst into flames and roar at you whilst blowing you away. The memories of that house now in the air, to forever be remembered. The necklace being the only thing to hold onto you, staying by your side no matter what happened.

Yet you don't believe it, you don't understand how the man himself can stand there in front of you with no signs of injury at all. His face wasn't weird...and neither was his body..so what's going on? Trying to touch him, your hands get stuck, makikg you spin your head to look behind you.

Shackles around your wrist, tightened by a weird blue jagged pattern which seemed nearly impossible to break out of. Gasping, you stared up at him, wondering why he'd ever tie you up...? He stared back at you, with a stare of absolute devastation and hurt.

"....No, stop it you died."

You stare around, bring the inner part of your mouth to try and help you snap back to reality. The pain only hurting the feelings more then intended, the thought of being perhaps hypnotised.

"I don't..."

You remember, stop lying, you always will.

-

"Since you're a grown up, I won't cover for you this time," Caleb teased, opening the door to your grandmother's house. You had both gone out in a small celebration for your return, it's been ages since you've visited your grandma and — especially — Caleb, your childhood friend.

It's been a long few years away, becoming a Deepspace Hunter and finding the time to go to your home house. As soon as you were given that opportunity, you took it without any doubt.

It was a full day of getting snacks, ordering food, walking around the city and watching the sun set together. Nostaglia filling the space in your mind the longer your hang out went. Caleb was his usual self; always cocky, teasing, mocking, yet also loving, caring and protective. He's been like that for ages, when he decided to become a pilot and have a future in airlines he got even worse.

Caleb was your closest friend, the person who you grew up with. And seeing him get so...protective when it came to that interaction in the alley made you second guess yourself. Was this really the Caleb you remember—

A deafening bang came from the right of to her body, the flames searing hot on your skin as the force of the explosion shoved you back with extreme force. "Ah!" You shrieked, falling onto the hard concrete. Nothing but concern and worry swimming in your blood as your eyes locked onto the burning house.

No sign of Grandma, no sign of Caleb. The house was burning, your memories following, your family leaving you behind to carry the burden of grief.

With a desperate grasp, you held the necklace to your chest, instantly feeling some sort of relief despite the pain surrounding your heart.

Come back, Caleb.

-

Come back Caleb....Come back Caleb....

"Come back, Caleb." You murmured, reliving that moment with tears rolling in your shocked eyes. A gloved hand reaches under your chin, lifting your stressed face upwards to stare into your eyes. It's him. No it isn't. Yes it is—

Caleb tensed at your word, the shackles loosening as you took this opportunity to remove yourself from them. You snapped your hands off of the shackles. Nearly instantly, you got up. Your hands pushed his chest as your other fist threw itself to his face. Unluckily, he managed to catch on.

His hand grabbed yours as his leg went out to kick your legs. You jumped, using your leg to strike his thigh, making Caleb let out a small groan. He took out a small baton, using the item to hit your face. A small squeak escaped your mouth as your hair draped over your face. Caleb hesitated but he did it.

Rapidly, he grabbed your hands and slammed you onto the wall to the side of the two of you. His tall frame hovering over you with nothing but anger in his eyes, he looked devilish. Yet you were fuming, betrayed and heartbroken while you continued to fight.

"Get off of me!" You yelled, your eyes watering with tears as you tried to fight whatever magic you were being controlled with. "Get off! Help! Stop!!—"

Suddenly, a familiar feeling went over your body as you saw a blue hue around you. You were so overwhelmed with emotions. Your breathing slowing down as the nostaglia feeling entered your body, you couldn't help but mumble to yourself. "What the fuck...what the—"

"What, do you not recognise me?" Caleb spoke back, his voice deepened from the last time you even heard his voice. His presence was so intimidated yet so comforting, you missed your family. You really did but the sense of unease was all that he gave you.

The tension nearly instantly deescalated, a look of understand and relaxation fighting its way to Caleb's face as he looked down at your slowly-forming traumatised face. 'Come on Caleb,' he scolded himself, 'don't scare the girl. She's traumatised.'

"You need to hear me out." He started but didn't get far before you started to fight against his evol. He couldn't help just let out a small laugh and the fact that you couldn't do anything.

"Fine, we'll have it your way."

Caleb grabbed a small needle from his inner pocket of his uniform, examining the liquid inside the tube with a focused eye. Ignoring your squirms and loud yells of begging and pleaded, he flicked the top of the needle before turning to you with a sorry gaze.

"Stay still," He ordered, his firm, big hand grasping your arm as the other hand inserted the needle and let the sedative enter your body. As you screamed and cried for him to let you go, he let out a few coos and sorrys. The cold feeling of a suspicious liquid entered your bloodstream, filling you with an uncomfortable sensation.

As soon as he finished, he removed the tube and used his finger to wipe away the blood.

The sedative worked nearly instantly, making your brain all mushy. With an unhealthy amount of fatigue building, you held onto his shoulder, trying to ground yourself against the feeling inside of you.

You began to slowly collapse into his arms, the mysterious liquid making you body turn weak with every few seconds. First your legs, then your arms, then your torso. It was a horrible feeling, like you were slowly dying. "What are...you...doing—"

"Shhh...just relax. I've got you." Caleb reassures, kneeling down with you as your body feel weak to the medicine. His hands holding you so tight that you were sure to not fall away from his grip once again. His eyes closed as he held your hand gently, his soft lips by your ear as he whispered.

"I'll be here to make you feel okay...I'll be here to give you protection, I'll be here to shield you from criminals...I'll be here to make this right again,"

His pinky finger interlocked with yours tightly, an unspoken promise.

"I promise."

When you woke up, the argument that rose was nothing that you've ever think could happen with your possible kidnapper and childhood best friend. What kind of Reddit post is this? You obviously were agitated by this — the person you've grieved and cried over for 6 months had apparently been alive all this time and was never hurt in the first place. How rude.

"Get me out of me Caleb! I don't want to be here with you alone." You snapped back, keeping a good distance between the two of you. He was dressed in a simple jumper with a familiar logo on it, matching trousers and boots. He glared at you, analysing your body from his position before closing his eyes and sighing.

"You're not going anywhere, I won't let you." His tone was rough yet it held possession, heavy possession. His arms were crossed agaisnt his chest and you could see the tension between his muscles and his jumper. Even the thick material was fighting to rip, his outline was so...arousing?

"I am." With a turn of your body, you ran towards the door with purpose. And you didn't stop running until you heard footsteps behind you. A hand grabbed your wrists and turned you around, one hand around your waist. The other hand went to your chin, softly rising your head to stare into the eyes of — surprise surprise — Caleb.

"Listen...I won't have you suffer because of me twice. I learnt my lesson the first time and I won't have them force me to make you suffer another time. Why can't you understand me?" His voice was quiet but also demanding, a sense of worry on his intimidating tone. "What else do you want me to say?"

"I want you to stop lying." You replied, your voice lowering in volume. Caleb sighed, his cologne strong as he held you closer to him. "I love you okay? I'll tell you everything just let me make things alright first."

"...I..." You scoffed, turning your head. "I don't believe you."

There was a few beats of silence before you heard a small chuckle escape his mouth, his breath on your neck. "Allow me to make you."

Slowly, his lips latched onto yours, so gentle that it surprised you. His other hand holding the back of your head softly as he used his evol to lock the door. Backing you guys up, the back of your thighs hit the soft mattress of Caleb's bed, leading you to fall over with Caleb hovering above you.

Yet the kiss never ended, your mouths moving at a fast speed as you savoured in his presence. His hands were quick, moving your head to kiss your deeper. His hips gently grinding into your mid section as he groaned into your mouth. After a few seconds, you finally pulled away, barely taking a breath before Caleb indulges you in another passionate kiss.

"...I need you..." He spoke through breaths and kisses, his mouth all over your face and neck. "...I promise...I'll explain everything once I know myself..."

Caleb slowly undresses the clothes he recent put on your body, his hand frantic whilst removing the buttons and gently pulling the shirt off. He work quickly, taking off your shorts and underwear at the same time. Caleb stares at you before lowering down to his knees, his strong hand wrapped around your thighs.

"Stay still," He demanded, feeling your legs moving. With no hesitation, Caleb latches his mouth onto your cunt, his tongue licking up and down your folds with precision. He messily made out with your pussy, groaning into your folds and savouring the taste.

Caleb's thumb moved from your thighs to your clit, rubbing soft circles onto it. You squirmed, trying to crawl away from his greed. Your hand grasping the bedsheets as you pulled away.

As soon as he saw the slightest bit of movement, he stopped you, staring up at you with a lustful gaze, slightly panting. "You better stay there before I make you stay there." His warning was small yet it held enough of a threat to keep you still — for now at least. Caleb continued to relentlessly eat you out, his tongue circling your clit in a quick succession.

"Ahh! Caleb! Please—wait! I haven't..." You let out a few pants, throwing your head back as your back met the mattress once again. Your legs rising as Caleb followed you, grinding his hips into the bed like an animal in heat. He groaned, his tongue flicking against your sensitive hole.

"Caleb! I'm gonna!—Fuck..! Slow down..!!" You begged onto deaf ears, Caleb increasing his speed. He wanted you to cum on his mouth, to release whatever stress you have onto him right now. "Cum," He breathed out, "cum on my tongue, you slut."

You gasped, finally releasing yourself onto his tongue. Your eyes closed as your hands found leverage in his hair, gripping tightly. Caleb let out a small "Fuck..." slurping up your slick with a desperate need. His hands tightened his grip on your thighs, huge hands squeezing and massaging the soft flesh of your thighs.

In less than a second, he was up, desperately pulling removing his tie. He He removed his shirt, seductively sliding his belt through the loops and removing his trousers. Caleb grabbed your shoulder, pushing you onto your stomach with a kiss on your back. You felt a smooth material go over your wrists, tying your arms behind your back in a secure grip. His tie.

"...Caleb you freak..." You murmured, a small amount of shock on your face which soon tuned to pleasure when you felt him line up his dick to your entrance. Your eyes opened as you felt the sheer thickness of his cock on your pussy. You tried look behind you and see what he was doing yet a firm unseen force held your head forward, "I warned you."

Caleb pressed his hips against yours, instantly filling you with that huge cock of his. The sudden feeling of him so far inside of you made you breathless, squirming against his tie. Your eyes opened wide, your mouth letting out a loud moan as he held your hips down with his hands.

"...You better brace yourself, I'm not holding back anymore." A hard thrust followed after, striking you deep and fast. His speed was merciless, his hips hitting yours with a heavy force. Your mouth couldn't even form a sentence, just mumbles and chopped words escaping from the pleasure of the man behind you.

Caleb didn't even think about the consequences of his actions, just having you close to him made him loose control. His hands pushed you back onto his cock, matching with his already slapping hips. The sounds of skin slapping echoed in your ears as you moaned out for him.

"You filthy girl...this pussy was just waiting for me to breed it hm? Is that what you want? Is that what you fucking want?" Caleb's hand struck your left ass cheek, his hand grasping your skin on impact. He spread open your cheeks, spitting where you were connected to make it even more wet for him. You nodded, moaning, "Yes C-Caleb! Yessss!!! Oh my!—" You cried, trying to figure out how to deal with this large amount of feelings in your lower half.

Caleb slapped your flesh once more, not holding back on his strength at all. Your brown skin nearly instantly blooming with a soft red hue. "So gorgeous...I won't let you go, not again."

Caleb lowered to your face, still thrusting into your wet cunt with purpose. "You can't bring yourself to hate me with every finer being in your body...can't you?" He mocked, staring at your fucked out face with an evil grin. You tried to answer, but you were apparently too late in his eyes.

Another slap landed on your right cheek, and another followed — harder than the last. "Answer me," He ordered, holding your hip. With struggle, you hummed back, "Hmm! I d-don't h-hate you! Oh Caleb, I can't do this..." With a few more thrusts, Caleb could feel you tightening around his hefty cock.

He let out a soft hiss, kissing your neck with gentle intention. "You gonna cum?" He asked with a softer tone, his hands rubbing up and down your sides.

Nodding, your mouth hung heavy. "I'm cumming..! I'm cumming Caleb!"

That intense feeling of letting that growing pleasure in your stomach go was so satisfying. Your moans loud as you stuffed your head into the pillows below you. Your legs shook as your orgasm rode out, Caleb still thrusting into your wet, sloppy pussy. He soon came after you, filling you up with a mixture of both you and his cum. The feeling of him filling you was enough to make you squirm more, whining at the feeling of being full.

After a few beats of silence, Caleb slapped your backside one more, rubbing the sore skin afterwards. "I'll rather hear you as well as feel you next time...but I'll let you go this time round."

You laid there, fucked out and fatigued whilst Caleb stood up, his dick slipping out of your cunt. "You're absolutely gorgeous..."

Caleb pressed soft kisses to your body, rubbing the bruises on your hips and untying your wrists. You felt that tension on your head go as he removed his evol, his hands rubbing your neck.

"I love you...I promise you that." He whispered. His whole intimidating and aggressive demeanour had disappeared somehow. But when you looked into his eyes, you finally saw him. That same boy from your childhood. Your best friend had sprung back to life despite all the trouble you both had gone through.

You replied, to the best of your standards, "...Pinky...?" Your voice was soft and also vulnerable, melting Caleb's heart.

He let out a small chuckle, holding your face towards him and locking it in with a kiss. "Pinky."

Caleb gave you a passionate kiss on the lips, holding your face with gentle fingers. He pulled away after a short time, laughing at your marked body. You let out a small giggle, "I didn't know you had that in you Caleb..."

"Neither did I, until I met you."

© aly4khq, do not plagiarise, translate or copy any of my work. 12/01/25

[blkkizzat]

PU$$Y GOT MORE M⛧RDERS THAN SHIBUYA.ᐟ 𝐌⛧𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑#𝟑 — 𝐅𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

⛧ 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: nov 8th, 8:48 am ⛧ 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞: tshirt with no panties + dubcon + edging + cunnalingus + squirting + backshots + brat!reader ⛧ 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬: 3548

𝐧𝐧𝐧 𝐦.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

A week into ‘No Nut November’ Toji already is feeling fidgety—not that he’d ever admit it.  No, he was going to win and prove to you he wasn’t like those other chumps you dated in the past, pussy couldn’t control a man like him. 

Yet a part of Toji has to know he is lying to himself. 

Otherwise why the hell did he get out of bed last night at 3 am, dick stiff as fuck, while your ass was still asleep?

The job Shiu gave him could have waited a few more hours for daylight to break at least. But laying in bed, wide-awake and fully bricked, Toji's cock nearly jumped out of his sweats when he swore you softly moaned his name in your sleep.

Fuck he could practically smell your pussy too! Toji couldn’t get the fuck outta that bed fast enough.

Speaking of jobs, he’d been taking more of them—anything to get him out of the house. Although he told you it was so you'd stop nagging him about bills—a big ol' lie.

Now, hours later after returning home, Toji steps out of the shower. Scoffing at his reflection, the grumpy look on his face is all thanks to his twitching hard-on practically waving back at him in the mirror. 

Annoyance simmered in his chest. Toji wanted to call the whole fuckin' thing off but his pride had taken a hit the moment you goaded him into this ridiculous challenge. Your smug, off-hand comment about how he’d 'fold like an omelet' if he attempted 'No Nut November' had sealed it.

He couldn’t let that remark just slide.

It had only been a week so far but a chore from the start. A foolish experiment neither of you were built for. Restraint had never been either of your strong suits—not when you could barely keep your hands off each other for a single day, let alone thirty.

Even three years into the relationship, that much hadn’t changed. He’d fucked you so often, so thoroughly, he knew your body as well as his own—a truth that made this self-imposed abstinence feel less like a challenge and more like torture.

Toji knew you were struggling through all of this too. The way your thighs pressed together when he casually manspread on the sofa the other day had been proof of it. You tried to play it cool but your eyes betrayed you, locked on his cock like you could melt the fabric of his pants with sheer willpower alone. Squirming in your seat, you made it painfully apparent how badly you wanted him buried inside you, stretching you open like only he could—yet you also refused to give in.

Unfortunately, you were both as stubborn as all hell. Neither of you willing to bend first, even if it was driving you both insane.

*CRASH*

Hearing the shattering of glass, a sound Toji recognizes far too well by now, he makes his way to the kitchen. 

Tsk—he’s told you over and over to just call for him when you want to reach the top shelf. 

“Mamas, that lil’ short stack ass of y'ers better not be up on that counter again. I told ya—”

Toji grins widely upon entering the kitchen.

“....heh, ya fucking slutty ass minx.”

Caught red-handed, you’re balancing on your tippy toes on the edge of the kitchen counter, with one leg hiked up on a spice shelf for extra leverage. However, Toji was far less concerned with the fact you disobeyed him now that he’s seen your state of undress. 

Like a starved predator his eyes rake ravenously over your exposed flesh—your entire ass and pussy poking out of one of his old t-shirts you often slept in. Toji licks his lips as he hones in on how even your puckered rear hole seems to clench tighter, sheepishly even, under his scrutiny.  

“And just what do ya think y’er doing, slut?”

Frozen mid-stretch, you’d whip your head back to see Toji. 

His arms are crossed over his broad, bare chest, still glistening with water droplets, giving him the appearance of a Greek god. The morning rays stream through the kitchen, casting a warm glow that highlights every chiseled inch of his body. The towel around Toji's waist hangs low, giving you a peek of the sleek black hairs leading down to—his completely bricked up erection aggressively poking through his towel. 

“Nah, eyes up here slut.”

Toji snaps his fingers and you manage to rip your eyes away in order to roll them back, not letting him get away with any sass.

“I’m hardly a slut for trying to cook breakfast, Toji.”

Finally getting your mixing bowl at the sacrifice of 3 others, you safely plant both feet on the countertop. 

“Nuh-uh, ya know what I fuckin’ mean, ma—heh, ain’t a slut but y’er tooting that fat ass up f’er me bare, knowing you shouldn’t even be up there in the first fuckin’ place." Toji's grin widens deviously. "I know y'er tyna tempt me lil' girl—so just give in. Just say ya want me t’ fuck ya mamas and I’ll do it.”

You bristle at his words—he had some nerve!

“As if! You’re the one who's been walking around with a loaded gun in your pants all week!”

“Yeah mama n’ ya been lookin’ at my dick like ya wanted me to bust this gun in ya for just as long.”

You fluster, caught. Thinking your drooling over the heavy cock in his pants had gone unnoticed, yet you were sorely mistaken.

“Now y’er walkin’ around without panties and in my shirts knownin’ what that fuckin’ does t’me—y'er not slick at all, ma”

Unfortunately, you don’t realize just how close to snapping Toji actually is as you stand your ground throwing more sass back at him.

“Get over yourself Toj! I’ll have you know I didn’t even have any last night either—you know the saying—gotta let her ‘breathe’.”

And that was the final straw. 

Your heart races seeing the darkened look in his eyes, not to mention the smirk on Toji's face is absolutely diabolical now. 

He’d woken up so early thinking he was going mad with arousal that he was manifesting you moaning for him and the smell of your sweet wet pussy only to realize you’d be practically advertising yourself to him all night—fuckin' taunting him to take a peek. “Oh? She’s having trouble breathing, my favorite girl? Well then, looks like that stuffy lil’ cunt needs some mouth-to-mouth then, mamas.”

Before you can blink, your vision blurs as Toji moves with blinding speed, his Heavenly Restriction amplifying every motion to an imperceptible degree. Manhandling you roughly, Toji splays you out on your stomach across the marble counter of the kitchen island, sending whatever are on it crashing to the ground with the others you'd broken.

You don’t have to ask Toji ‘what in the hell he thinks he’s doing?’ as you figure it out as soon as you feel the baggy t-shirt fabric bunching at your upper back and his breath ghosting over your bare cunt.

Toji isn't surprised that you are already moist and leaking just from him calling you a slut a few times, your slutty lil cunt would get soaked for far less.

Toji anticipated that though and he is pleased that he can see the slick glossing your pussy lips as he pulls back a bit to admire the view. You looked like a freshly prepared breakfast platter to Toji, he didn’t need you cookin’ anything else either—just heat up that tight pussy of yours for him and he'd take his fill.

Placing a tender kiss on your ass cheek the gesture is almost an appology for whats to come as Toji quickly follows it up with a searing bite into you squishy flesh. Not leaving the other lonely, Toji graces gracing your other ass cheek with an open palmed spank. You're trying not to squeal as he kneads your supple skin between his fingers, squeezing the fat of your ass posessively. However, Toji is displeased at you trying to hold back your cries and for that you're spanked harshly again. The force leaves a handprint burning in your skin as the sting pushes more gooey nectar out of your cunt.

“Nah, none of that holding back now slutty mamas, ya wanted this teasin’ me like that now I want ya to scream f'er me.”

Panting you attempt to resist him again, wanting to push yourself up off the counter but it's impossible when your feet aren’t even touching the floor. Your toes ghosts over the ground as you try to wiggle free. Yet your flimsy protests didn’t last long as your limbs go rigid once Toji peels back your sopping folds exposing your runny, twitchy pussy hole to him. 

“Tsk, see that ,mama? Only a week without my mouth on ‘er and this silly slut of a pussy forgot how to breathe. Look at her strugglin, beggin' to be resuscitated.”

Keening lustfully at his lewd accusation, you chew on your plump bottom lip as his large rough tongue takes the first slow n’ savory swipe over your soaking pussy lips. 

You couldn’t hold back any longer.

“C’mon, p-please eat me daddy, To—JIIIIIIAHH!”

Your begging is cut short as Toji latches his mouth to your fat cunt, tongue diving into your pretty peach like a man starved. 

Oh okay, fuck! Why were you holding yourself back from this again?!

Real nasty with it, Toji is literally gargling on the juices seeping steadily from your creamy cunt. Slurping up your arousal like a man parched, Toji is unhinged and feral as he spits your fluids it back into your pussy before lapping it all up again with a deep swirl of his tongue.

Achring instinctively, your hands flail in an attempt to push Toji's head away, but all you manage to do is tangle up your fingers in his damp raven locks. Instead of dislodging him, your efforts have him burrowing his face deeper between your thighs, smothering himself in your creamy core. Toji's thick tongue continues its prodding, flicking and stroking—mapping every inch of you as if to make sure your pussy hadn't changed in the week he'd gone without her. Releasing a deep guttural hum inside you, vibrations course through your body as his own sloppy groans of pleasure mix with your gasping cries for mercy. The sensation is overwhelming, and just as you think you can’t take any more, his fingers find your swollen clit, strumming on it in a pace too cruel that only intensifies the pleasurable ache within.

“Fahh-HAHH!”

As white edges your vision and you begin falling into the throws of ecstasy—the first orgasm you had in a week—however, you wouldn't experience the sweet nirvana you crave just yet thanks to Toji cruelly ripping it away. 

Smacking his lips with a satisfied sigh like he finally had his fill from a water fountain, Toji dislodges his face from your puffy and drenching pussy. You don’t even need to see Toji's face as you can practically hear the smirk plastered across his lips, still dripping with your juices messily stained all around his mouth and flowing down his neck.

“Admit it—”

Standing, Toji taps his cock on your sticky pussy lips, hypersensitive now from the way he’d just been aggressively munching on her like full-course meal. The knob of his cockhead, flushes red and angry as it pokes into your slippery entrance. The ring of muscle slowly opening wider to accommodate the large girth that threatened to impale your pretty lil' pussy fully at any moment.

“—admit you got that short slutty as of y’ers up on that counter to test me—and I’ll put it in.”

The fact is Toji was near his limit anyway and likely would have snapped later on that night if you didn’t try to tempt him like this. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if it was intentional—but he didn’t care at this point because truth be told he’d been looking for any little excuse to bend you over like this for the past 2 days.

“NNNGHH—not fair! TojiiiiiiEEEE!”

You pout, tears on the edges of your eyes as he delivers more smack to your jiggly cheeks, enjoying the way they ripple under his hand.

“Say what I wanna hear slutty mamas… n’ m’gonna give fat ma here what she's been craving all week…”

Toji exhales sharply, his breaths uneven as he watches globs of his pearlescent pre-cum ooze indiscriminately from his tip. Toji strokes the base of his shaft tightly, a calculated effort to control himself as the mere sensations and sounds of his tip only gliding against your soft squelchy pussy lips threatens to undo him entirely.

You could almost feel the desperation radiating off of him. He wanted this just as much as you did—asshole. 

Although if anything, the truth is Toji broke first. However, while a part of you wanted to fight him on that, a bigger part of you couldn’t care less. Laid up on the counter with no leverage you knew he'd turn you out into his pretty lil’ cocksleeve if you did as he asked—and you did miss him fucking you like his personal pocket pussy.

“Hnnnn—FINE!” 

You glance back over your shoulder at Toji, sweat beading on your furrowed brow, your bottom lip jutting out as you say the words that you know will have him pureeing your guts as soon as you do.

“Daddy, *sniff* m’sorwy m’just a bratty slut who just wants her tiny pussy fucked—m’so horny n’ I want you s’bad… n’thats why I got on the counter to show you how much she m-missed you!”

Like the little temptress you are, you wiggle your ass up towards him as best you can with your feet dangling. Toji barks with laughter at the site.

“Heh, now was that so hard slutty mamas?”

Yet Toji couldn't delay andy longer, the little composure Toji had in the moment is lost as he thrusts himself deeply into you with a fierce snap of his hips.

The weight of him leaning into you and stretching your greedy hole that hadn’t been fucked in a week knocked all the air out of you—you couldn’t even scream. A paralyzing shiver jolts down your spine that reaches all the way down to your pussy, tightening enough it threatens to break Toji's dick in two.

“Fuuuck, mama. You’re s’tight, relax. Ngnnh—never doing this cuck ass shit again though baby….I’ll fuckin’ kill someone first.”

Toji’s voice carried a rare, almost whiny edge as he grits his teeth—muttering something along the lines of, ‘pussy gon’ kill me’.

You’re not able to think about that too hard though as Toji doesn’t remain still inside you for long. Jerking back, Toji pistons his hips into you, growling like an animal in heat. 

Toji feels like a fuckin teenager again the way he's leaking precum into you. Gritting his teeth, Toji couldn't have imagained before this that a lack of pussy for 7 days would have his knees threatening to buckle. 

Fuckin' hell, he wanted to cum already. 

Lifting your hips up off the counter with his massive hands, your body ragdolls as Toji's sharp bullying hips completely turn your pelvis into mush. Toji's eyes dim to a dangerous forest green as he watches his cock be consumed by the thick supple lips of your pussy, disappearing deeply in your runny cunny over and over.

He'd gladly die like this if given the choice.

And you aren't fairing much better.

“HUUU, F—”

Words fail you as drool seeps from your slackened jaw, your brain being fucked completely smooth under the relentless onslaught. You can’t hold onto anything to ground you, even if the slippery marble countertop offered any kind of leverage. Toji’s thick, veined shaft scrapes mercilessly over that tender, spongy spot that has you seeing stars. When he bottoms out, slamming against your cervix, his balls slap against your swollen clit, sending bolts of white-hot electricity up your spine—like Toji’s sole intent is to shatter it and you entirely.

Your broken cries intermingle with Toji’s throaty growls, each one more primal than the last, mirroring the raw hunger driving his movements. His broad, muscular hands lift your hips effortlessly, spreading your soft flesh wide as his thumbs press insistently against the taut rim of your asshole, teasing and massaging it open.

A strangled raspy moan escapes your lips nearly choking you when his thumbs plunge inside your ass to hook and stretch it wide.

“P-Pweasee, n-not there D-Daddy—SHIIIIIIIT!”

You sob, your body trembling under the overwhelming sensations. The mix of burning desire and the relentless pressure makes you feel as though he might actually break you. It had been a while since Toji fucked you there, and you weren’t sure you’d survive the intensity of pleasure now after being dry a whole week.

Toji doesn’t answer immediately, his silence heavy and deliberate. When you finally muster the strength to glance back, your breath catches as you see him spit a thick loogie directly into your asshole. “NNNN, Tojiiiish!” Your voice pitches higher as his thumbs toy with your puckered rim, stretching it an indecent amount as he pushes it open before guiding it close again, only to repeat the process with more spit dripping into the tight opening. Before long, your ass is doused and full of his spit, just as your pussy is stuffed with his cock and pre.

Toji's other hand clamps down on your hip, gripping tightly as he uses it to drive you onto his cock, hitting your devastatingly sensitive spots with unrelenting precision. The wet, obscene squelch of your cum mixes with the sharp, rhythmic slap of skin against skin, the room filled with the sinful symphony of your high-pitched moans and his raw, gravelly grunts.

On the brink, your body coils tighter with every thrust, every teasing stretch of his thumbs violating your puckered hole. The tension builds unbearably, pushing you closer and closer to that euphoric edge.

Toji is close too—you can feel it in the erratic, almost feral rhythm of his thrusts, his desperation mounting as he hurtles toward the edge. His grip tightens, nails digging half-moons into your sweaty skin as he pounds into you with rough, unrelenting force. A frenzied energy drives Toji, as if the only release that could satisfy him lies buried deep in your slobbering cunt. His balls draw up tight, his blood boiling in his veins as his body ruts into you on pure, unthinking instinct.

A helpless groan escapes his lips, raw and unrestrained, followed by a soft, unexpected whimper—so quiet it's almost undetectable by your ears but you must have heard it because your pussy pulses at the sound. Intoxicating, Toji's desperation laid bare, every ounce of control unraveling as he chases his release.

For the first time in ages, Toji feels disconnected from himself, his body reacting before his mind. Therefore, he doesn’t even register his release until he hears you scream, your walls clamping around him like a vice as his hot seed floods into you.

Your orgasm washes over you shortly after, your squirt gushing around making more of a mess of your kitchen island as the euphoric tension boils over.  

Toji lowers your hips gently onto the counter removing his thumbs from you, bracing himself on his forearms to keep from crushing you. His breath is thick and swampy against your neck as he languidly rocks into you, until he pumps every drop of cum into your slutty lil pussy.

Stilling in you, Toji closes his eyes.

Fuck, he’d not cum that hard since the first time he fucked you.

Yet it's you who eventually breaks the silence.

“Y-You came before me, ‘ol man..”

Wearing a lopsided smirk, you lay exhausted and completely spent on the counter, appreciating how cool marble always stayed in this moment basking in your victory. You moan softly as Toji grumbles, getting up and pulling out of you causing your still sensitive walls to push out his plug of cum from your pussy— and you can feel it flowing down your shapely thighs.

“...so what I said earlier means fuck all, you know you technically lost No Nut November first huh, Daddy?” 

You're radiantly smug, yet your victory was short-lived.

“Heh, you think we’re done? Don’t ya think I’m owed a lil’ more?”

Toji's voice, low and gravelly, sprouts goosebumps racing across your sticky skin. His cock, drowned in the mingled evidence of your arousals, swipes along the curve of your ass. His tip feels even more engorged than before as it presses insistently against your rear hole—that's still fluttering helplessly in the absence of his fingers.

Yet not leaving for long, his thumbs return to trail possessively over the taut ring of muscle, spreading it open a lil' wider to stuff his girthy fat cockhead in. 

“Now mamas, ya know I’m a gamblin’ man. Best two outta, three..."

A smirk curls on Toji’s lips, as he can feel the shudder convulse all the way down your spine, puckering your ass tigher around his cockhead. 

"...I didn’t spend all that time spreadin' this cute lil’ stink hole back here for my own amusement, eh?”

blkkizzat ©2023-2024 no ai, reposting, plagiarism or translation allowed.

𝐚/𝐧: next 12/14, 6:00 a.m. PST queued ryomen sukuna toji daddy is a big pushover for your holes<3 lmk what you think! reblogs and comments make my ass tingle all nice <3