#they have an on-again-off-again relationship

[inafieldofstarflowers]

So you’re in college and one day this student athlete who’s in your improv class asks you to be his date at an event for his team. It’s nothing serious—everyone knows he’s in a committed relationship, but it’s also a long-distance relationship, and he explains that they’ve decided to keep it at least semi-open while apart, so you could totally hook up with him—and he’s nice and easy to talk to, and so you overlook the fact that his team is consistently wrapped up in some scandal or another (especially the new guy). The drive there is pretty chill, except as soon as you get there, the coach gives the star player (who’s also famous) a bottle of vodka and he just goes to town on it, which is weird, but whatever. And then you go inside and find your seats, which are across from the team’s rivals (which—really? who planned this?), and the world’s tensest, most confusing conversation devolves into the new guy ripping into the other team’s captain (who, by the way, is also famous), and you all get moved to sit with the coaches, which is weird but fine. After eating, things are good—you dance with your date, some people have a volleyball game going, and other than some altercation happening off to the side of the room (you’re pretty sure the guy’s team captain just hit a guy in the balls with her heels), everything is normal, and eventually the coach rounds you up and you head back to campus, and after that you don’t really do anything with the guy again, but around thanksgiving one of his cousins kills a guy, and then the new guy comes back from winter break with one of the face tattoos the two famous guy and their friend have, and then a few months later he gets kidnapped by his dad (who was apparently a serial killer he was running from?) and even with all of that they somehow not only make it to finals but are the first team to ever beat their rivals out—and for the championship trophy, no less—and the other team’s captain maybe tries to kill the new guy on live tv but the guy from improv’s other cousin stops him by breaking his arm, and shortly after the game the news breaks that the other team’s captain killed himself after losing, after which his coach steps down and a bunch of information starts leaking suggesting that the rival team was some kind of cult. Your name is Jim, and you kind of think you should quit improv and maybe transfer schools.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Summary: Your brothers take you and Javi out to a local bar when you're home to visit. When you run into one of your old childhood friends, Javi can't help but feel jealous

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no use of y/n, established relationship)

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v (whoops), creampie, breeding kink (only in the sense that there's no way in hell Javi's pulling out I know, who is she?), semi-public sex (gettin nasty in a grimy bar bathroom), two ass slaps, drinking/alcohol consumption, Jealous Javi, lowkey Javi is a dick (again, who is she writing nothing but fluff?!)

A/N: Shoutout to @yxtkiwiyxt for more horny Javi ideas rotting my brain at all hours of the day!!! 🤠 I can't believe that there has never been a jealousy one shot for these two in the great wide world of the NTL universe, but you bet your ass that Javier Peña is a possessive man to his core and tolerates zero bullshit from any man who dares to even look at you too long 😌 poorly beta'd bc I'm horny and impatient

Can be read as a part of the It's Never Too Late series!

"Another one?"

"Are you trying to make sure I have miserable hangover tomorrow?"

"Me? Never. Just tryin' to make sure you have fun." Your brother David teased, voice oozing with sarcasm as he popped off his barstool, giving you a playful nudge for your accusation.

While you and Javi had made a few trips back to your hometown of Chicago to visit your family since your move to Laredo, most of it had either been spent at your childhood home with your entire family, or at other family events, like your cousin's wedding a few months ago.

And of course, while your brothers, Charlie and David, were a part of your family, there was a substantial difference between spending time with your whole family together, and spending time with just your brothers.

So when they had convinced you and Javi to come out with them to Rossi's, your favorite dive bar in the city, under the guise of a few drinks and time to catch up, you shouldn't have been shocked to find yourself 4 beers and two shots of whisky deep, and preparing for a much longer night ahead of you than originally anticipated.

"'Nother one for you, big guy?" Charlie asked Javi, following behind David to make their way through the hot and sweaty mess of bodies crowding behind the bar for another drink.

"And before you answer, no isn't an option." David added, sneaking up behind Javi and shaking his shoulders.

"God, you are so annoying." You sighed, rolling your eyes at your brother, jabbing your elbow into his side to keep him from wrestling Javi out of his seat, "Just do two more beers. And I swear, if you come back with another shot, I'm pouring it over your head."

The four of you laughed before your brothers disappeared into the sea of bar patrons, leaving you and Javi giggling at your table.

"Fuck, I haven't drank this much since- God, I don't even remember." Javi sighed, running his hand through his hair and down the back of his head, rubbing the dark curls at the nape of his neck.

"Me either." You replied, followed by a long, low burp and more laughter, "I think the last time I was this drunk, I was here with David and Charlie and all their friends watching the Blackhawks lose in the playoffs, but all I remember is Charlie telling me I threw up in a bush and that he had to carry me to our taxi to get home. But don't worry, I promise not to get that drunk tonight."

"Sounds good, party animal." Javi smirked, placing his hand on your thigh under the table, rubbing it back and forth along the denim of your jeans, snickering at your drunken giggles.

The two of you both reached for your drinks, finishing off the last of what was left in your beer bottles, startled when you swore you had heard your name from a voice you knew wasn't Javi's, Charlie's or David's.

"Cubby? Holy shit, is that you?!"

Setting down your drink, you swerved your head over your shoulder, jaw dropping in complete surprise to see Frankie, one of your brother's best friends you had known for as long as you could remember.

"Frankie?! Oh my god, what the fuck?! Hi!" You squealed, shooting up out of your seat to give him a hug, the alcohol already in your system perhaps making you a little more enthusiastic about your greeting you would have been otherwise.

"What the hell are you doing here?! I thought the goons said you moved to Texas after everything that happened!" Frankie asked excitedly, parting from your hug to take a step back and look at you, shocked by your presence.

"I did, but I'm here visiting for the week! Charlie and David are at the bar right now getting drinks, but they'll be back in a second! Frankie, oh my god, I'm so happy to see you!" You grinned, giving him a playful shove.

"Me too. I feel like I haven't seen you in forever! You- You look great-" He paused, trying his best to play off his comment, quickly shifting topics, "Things uh, everything's been going good for you?"

"Yeah, things have been great! How about you? Wait, we have a table right here, do you wanna sit down and catch up? Unless you're busy, I don't wanna keep you!" You offered, gesturing towards the table behind you where Javi was sitting.

"Yeah, yeah, that would be fuckin' great! I'm meetin' a few buddies here later, but I have plenty of time to catch up if you guys have some room to squeeze me in!"

While you knew there would be plenty of room for one more person at your table, even after your brothers returned, what you didn't know is that since the moment Frankie had shown up, everything about Javi's once happy and carefree demeanor had completely changed.

And not for the better.

As soon as you turned around to face Javi, you could immediately sense the shift in tension, watching his brow furrow and hand wrap tighter around the neck of the near empty beer bottle he was nursing, practically burning a hole through Frankie with the way he was staring him down.

It seemed like Frankie could immediately sense it too, looking over at you before looking back at Javi, as if to silently ask who the hell was sitting with you and your brothers, looking like he was ready to commit murder, at the very least.

"Who's uh...." Frankie paused, awkwardly laughing as he nodded at Javi, trying his best to not seem off-put by Javi's clearly uncomfortable expression.

"I'm so sorry, Frank, this is my-"

"Fiancé. Javi." Javi stated, cutting off the rest of your introduction as he stood up out of his seat, sizing up Frankie as he offered a forceful handshake.

"Fiancé? Lucky guy." Frankie replied, forcing a friendly smile as he shook Javi's hand, "Congrats, I had no idea you were engaged." He shrugged, looking back at you with a more genuine expression before awkwardly shuffling around the table to find a seat across from you and Javi.

"Thanks, we got engaged in November and the wedding's in July!" You chimed in, hoping to try and ease Javi's obvious, unwarranted hostility towards Frankie.

"Oh nice!" Frankie nodded, smiling at both you and Javi, the crinkle in his cheeks dropping at Javi's still unamused facade, "Where you guys gettin' married? Here or Texas?"

"Texas." Javi answered, short and snappy with his response.

"Frank the Tank? No fuckin' way man! What's up?!"

The three of you all seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief at David's voice, turning your head to see him and Charlie making their way back, beers in hand.

"What's up, you goons? Long time, no see!" Frankie grinned, standing up to greet your brothers with happy pats on the back.

As the three of them said their 'hello's' you stayed put next to Javi, whapping his shoulder with the back of your hand, forcing him to face the frustrated frown plastered across your expression.

"What the fuck was that for?" You whispered to him, not wanting to draw any attention from your brothers and Frankie as they caught up.

"What?" Javi asked, shrugging nonchalantly before taking another sip of his beer, setting down the empty bottle with a forceful thud.

"W-what- What the fuck do you mean, 'what'?" You frowned, quickly realizing that Javi was trying to play dumb about the clearly uncomfortable interaction he and Frankie had just been through.

Javi silently shrugged again, jaw ticking from side to side as he looked back and forth between you and Frankie before speaking again.

"Just have never heard of Frankie before today. Didn't know you'd be so excited to see someone I didn't even know existed until five minutes ago."

"I've known Frankie since I was like, six years old. He's been one of my brother's best friends for like, ever. So yes, I was excited to see him. Would you like me to disclose every other person I've ever met and not mentioned to you, too?" You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, feeling your scowl sink deeper into the wrinkles of your forehead.

Both groups of conversations seemed to lull at the same time, Frankie, David and Charlie all turning back towards your table to see the sour looks on both yours and Javi's faces.

"You good?" Charlie asked, handing a beer to you and then one to Javi.

"Listen, it was super nice to see all of you guys, but I don't wanna overstay my welcome or anything. I can just wait at the bar for my buddies if the four of you wanna hang out." Frankie suggested, clearly realizing he must have been the shift for the change of tone at the table.

"What, you're gonna catch up with these two idiots and leave me hanging? Seriously, please stay, we haven't hung out all together in forever!"

While Javi was able to make it subtle enough to everyone else, you could clearly tell that your invitation was the exact opposite of what he was hoping to hear.

"Only if you're-"

"Yes, I'm sure, Frankfurter, get a drink and sit your ass down!" You insisted, shooing Frankie towards the bar along with your brothers, the three of you howling over Frankie's long forgotten childhood nickname.

If he hadn't made it blatantly clear before, your avid encouragement for Frankie to join your group certainly had.

Right now, Javier Peña was one thing, and one thing only.

Jealous.

"I still can't believe you won't admit that I beat you!"

"Because you didn't!"

"I did, and you know it, David! C'mon you guys, back me up here!"

It hadn't taken much for the five of you to down a few more drinks- For four of you, you let the alcohol flowing through your veins loosen you up even more, laughing and reminiscing about your favorite shared childhood memories, teasing and taunting each other over the silly trials and tribulations of your youth.

For the other, the few beers and glasses of whisky swirling around in his stomach were nothing but a way to keep from saying (or doing) something out of spite that he'd regret.

"I'm gonna be honest with you here, Dave, I'm not gonna say that your sister's right, buuuut...." Frankie smirked, holding up his beer bottle to you, giving you a silent cheers of approval.

"See?! Told you! Thank you, Frankie, at least someone knows what they're talking about." You teased, giving David a jab in his stomach as he rolled his eyes at you.

"Dare I say, Cubby is more of a badass than either of you two clowns, but I don't know if you can handle that conversation yet." Frankie smiled, reaching across the table for a fist bump, "She's a pretty kick ass hockey player, ya know."

Javi had been so focused on picking at the waterlogged label of his beer bottle, he hadn't even noticed that Frankie was trying to talk to him, only looking in his direction after a nudge from your brother.

"Hmm?" Javi hummed, barely bothering to look in Frankie's direction to acknowledge his comment.

"I said your fiancé is a badass. Didn't know if you knew how good she was at hockey, that's all." Frankie shrugged, before taking another sip of his beer.

"Yeah, why the fuck would I not know that? She's my fiancé." Javi huffed, jaw clenching.

"Javi, seriously?" You whispered, shooting him a stern look as you had to quite literally bite your tongue to keep from causing a scene at the way he was behaving.

"Sorry, man, I- I was just givin' her a compliment." Frankie grimaced, shooting you an apologetic look from across the table.

"Yeah, I think you've made it pretty fucking clear how much you like complimenting her." Javi grumbled, just loud enough for you to hear and to having you fuming at your fiancé's enraging behavior.

You took one long, low deep breath, trying to compose yourself as the rest of the table sat in uncomfortable silence, wishing they had a chainsaw to cut through the palpable tension shrouding the air.

"Can I talk to you for a second, please?"

Javi knew just as well as you that even though you had phrased it as a question, he certainly had no choice in the matter, begrudgingly trailing behind you as you silently excused the both of you from the table.

In a stark silence, Javi followed behind you through the sea of drunken strangers that filled the bar until you reached a semi quiet hallway near the back of the building by the bathrooms.

You let out a frustrated sigh as your back bounced against the wall, using it to prop yourself as you stared at Javi, arms folded over his chest and eyes wandering in anywhere but your direction.

"What the fuck is going on, Javi? And don't bullshit me and say that you don't know what I'm talking about because you clearly do." You demanded, nostrils flaring and fists clenched.

"Like I really need to fucking say it." Javi huffed, shaking his head with a sarcastic laugh.

"You don't, because you've made it very clear, but yeah, I'd like to hear you say it."

You could feel the heat seething through your veins as Javi chewed at the inside of his lip, trying to bide whatever time he could to keep from bruising his pride.

"Wow, I really cannot believe this. You're seriously that threatened by Frankie?" You scoffed, stunned that Javi couldn't bring himself to admit it.

"I'm not fuckin' threatened by him." He spit back, eyes peeled to the ground. "He's just way too fucking comfortable with you."

"Oh, you cannot be serious. Because I've known him forever and he's a nice guy? Jesus Christ, Javi."

"I've been watching the way he's been fucking looking at you since the moment he said hello to you. How he's talking to you, acting with you, it's like- Jesus, it's like he trying to-"

"What? Like he's trying to flirt with me? Like he likes me?" You questioned, raising your voice enough to finally get Javi to look at you, letting him feel the frustration you were engulfed in.

"Yes! Jesus fucking Christ, yes!" Javi groaned back, growing more heated by the second.

"And what if he was, Javi? What if he was trying to flirt with me? Do you really in your right mind think that I would ever, EVER pick him above you?" You asked, throwing up your hands in defeat, voice trembling as you fought back tears, "So what if he was? I'm yours, Javi, and I've got the fucking ring on my finger to prove it."

You and Javi stood in silence for a moment, watching each other's chests rise and fall on beat. You swear you can see it in his eyes, the way everything about Javi seems to shift, realizing how badly he'd fucked tonight up.

Before you can get in another word, you can see Javi's eyes lock on the single stall bathroom door that's swung open at the end of the hallway, looking once at you and once again at the bathroom. You weren't even able to protest before he had grabbed you by the hand, checking once over his shoulder before ushering you inside and locking the door behind him.

As the lock clicked, you could feel the heat in your cheeks burning, and not just with anger like they were a few moments ago. The dim light of the bathroom flickered over the shadowy figure of Javi's broad body until he had your back flushed against the sink, pinning you between the porcelain and him.

"Javi, what are you-"

Suddenly, Javi had one hand cradling the back of your head, the other wrapped around your hip as he craned his neck down to let his lips collide with yours.

The angry part of you wanted to push him off you, to berate him with your frustrations until he apologized for how childishly he had behaved tonight.

Every other part of you that was so turned on by the fact Javi was so worked up, he had no other choice than to fuck you in the bathroom to prove that you were his, couldn't have cared less about it.

"You're all fucking mine, you know that?" Javi growled, his words warm against your skin, muffled between messy kisses.

"I'm all yours, Javi." You moaned, fighting to let each word escape from your lips as your mouths became frantic, colliding with tongues and teeth.

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as Javi's hands slid down your sides, fingers fumbling with the button and zipper on your jeans until he the denim and your underwear pooled around your ankles.

After your jeans had dropped to the ground, his hands were back on your sides, fingertips digging into your skin as he flipped you around, your stomach pressed against the countertop, ass flushed against his hips where you could feel the strain of his cock beneath his pants.

"No one else gets to have you like this. Gets to make you feel like I do." Javi groaned, your core aching at the clanking of his belt coming undone behind you, watching his brow furrow in concentration in the reflection from the mirror in front of you, "Do they, baby?"

"N-No." You whimpered, feeling him run his tip through your folds, collecting the slick that had already begun pooling between your thighs.

"You gonna let me fuck you right here in this bathroom, hermosa? Let everyone here know that you're mine?" Javi mewled, whispering into your ear as he buried his head in the crook of your neck.

"Mhmmmhh." You nodded, whining as Javi teased you with the head of his cock, prodding at your entrance, "Please."

Javi chuckled softly to himself, hearing you gasp as he filled you with every inch of him, hips pressed firmly against your ass. You could practically feel your eyes roll to the back of your head with how full he felt inside you, despite how easily you had taken him from how wet and worked up you were.

"Love this pussy so much, baby. Always so fucking wet and tight for me."

Your eyes opened as Javi began to thrust into you, startled by the already deliberate pace he was setting with each snap of his hips. Staring back at the mirror, you could see the smug smirk spreading between Javi's cheeks, knowing how quickly he could make you crumble.

Your hands shot back behind you, wrapping around Javi's stomach, trying to grab fist fulls of his shirt to brace yourself as he fucked into you. With the grip Javi had around your hips, you shouldn't have been worried about going anywhere, only about the marks that he'd leave in the pump flesh of your skin after he was finished.

"Oh fuck, Javi! Fuck, oh my godddd-" You moaned, all consumed by the feeling of his length sliding in and out of your cunt, perfectly pounding at your g-spot with every thrust.

You tried to let your head dip back, but before you could tilt it any further, one of Javi's hands had shifted, snaking up your front and wrapping around your jaw, forcing your gaze back in the mirror to meet his.

"Nuh uh, mi amor," he paused, gritting his teeth as he swore under his breath, trying to compose himself, "need to see you, Osita. Wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum and fuck you so fucking full of me, you're gonna feel me dripping out of you all night."

His words had seemed to spark something feral in the both of you, moaning his name as you backed your ass up further into him, taking everything that he had to give.

With your eyes locked in filthy glass reflection, Javi's hand slid back down your sides, smacking your ass before reaching around to your front, slotting himself between your thighs to find your clit, puffy and aching to be touched.

"Fuck, Javi! Feels so fucking good." You whined, the newfound pressure of his fingers against your clit causing the tingle building at the base of your spine to grow rapidly.

"Yeah? And who's the only one that gets to make you feel this good, baby?" Javi grunted, hips slapping against your ass, each thrust feeling harder and deeper than the last.

With the way Javi was fucking you, you felt lucky that your brain could manage to string together a coherent thought, let a lone a comprehendible sentence, your words heavy and breathless as you fought against the overwhelming sensation of your orgasm starting to creep through your body.

"You! It's- fuck- it's you Javi! Only you!" You sobbed, praying that the music and chatter of the bar was loud enough to drown out your volume.

"That's my girl." Javi devilishly grinned, feeling the way your cunt was clamping down around his cock, sensing how close you were to finishing, "Gotta cum first for me, hermosa. Fuckin' soak me before I cum so deep inside of you."

Javi began to circle your clit faster, putting just enough pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves to push you over the edge, your vision going white as your orgasm began to crash through you.

"Fuck, Javi! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck-ahhhhh!"

You could feel how instantly limp your body had gone, so drunk on pleasure, that if Javi hadn't been behind you, holding you up, you were convinced you would have collapsed over the edge of the sink you were fucking on.

You knew Javi wasn't far behind you, his thrusts becoming sloppy and frantic as he chased his own high, desperate to make good on his promise to fill you with every last drop he had to give.

"That's it, baby. Fuck, I'm- mierda- I'm close. Gonna give you everything. Let everyone know who this pussy belongs to. Feels so fucking- fuck- so fucking good. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

With one last pump of his cock, Javi was spilling inside you, painting your walls with his spend, burying himself inside your cunt until he you had taken everything he had to give.

The warmth and wetness of your mixed arousal pooled where your bodies met, making a mess between your thighs as Javi began to pull out.

The both of you watched as your bodies rose and fell in the mirror, trying desperately to catch your breath in your post orgasmic haze. It wasn't long until your unhinged jaws were replaced with devious smirks, Javi grabbing you by the waist to flip him back towards him, pulling you to his chest as he kissed you.

"Damn, maybe I should make you jealous more often." You teased, biting down on your lip as you gave Javi a loving poke on his chest before reaching down to pull your pants back up your legs.

"Whatever." Javi sighed, playfully rolling his eyes at you as he did the same, looping his belt back through his jeans. He let out another deep breath, arms crossed over his chest as he looked up at you with a sheepish shrug, "I'm- fuck. I'm sorry about tonight. I was a dick."

"It's okay." You smiled, pressing up on your tiptoes to drape your arms around his neck, planting a soft kiss on his lips, "I love you. And only you. I don't think you could get rid of me, even if you tried. And I think that me letting you fuck me in this dirty ass bar bathroom proves that."

The two of you laughed, turning back to the mirror to readjust the sweaty mats of tangled hair and crinkled clothes in hopes of avoiding any suspicions when you made your way back to the table.

"I know. Still shouldn't have been an asshole about it." He shrugged, stepping behind you so that his chest was pressed against your back and arms were draped across your front, his mustache tickling your neck as he leaned in to whisper in your ear, "This was fucking hot, though."

"It was. Feel sorry for the next person who has to use this bathroom." You grimaced, hoping that you hadn't managed to leave a trace of the ways you had further disrespected the dingy restroom.

"You wanna head out first, or should I?" Javi asked, rocking you back and forth in his grasp, swaying you just enough to make you burst out into giggles.

"It's so late and I'm sure everyone here is hammered, we probably just could sneak out at the same time and no one would notice." You suggested, still drunk enough to not care enough about a proper escape plan.

After one last kiss and smack of your ass, Javi quickly cracked open the door, doing one swift scan before giving you the nod to note the coast was clear.

Javi grabbed you by the hand, looking back at you with a stupid smirk as the two of you left the bathroom, unsuspecting and assuming that you'd be able to make it down the hallway without any run ins.

Unfortunately, Javi hadn't noticed the body across the bar, making a B-line to the bathroom through the drunken crowd towards the bathrooms after his half-assed check.

Before any of you could process it, Javi collided with the other person, both people grunting and stumbling backwards, mumbling apologies as they collected themselves, until they locked eyes.

"Oh, uh- Sorry. Didn't uh- Didn't see you guys coming." Frankie stammered, looking back and forth between you and Javi and the bathroom you had just emerged from, quickly piecing the puzzle before him together.

"All good. See you, uh- see you back at the table." Javi winced, trying his best to keep from laughing as both your cheeks began to turn a bright shade of pink as you slid past Frankie.

"Looks like you may not end up being the only jealous one tonight, Jav."

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

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[ssahotchnerr]

possible idea for married hotch since you asked for requests😋 (and cause i love your writing)

maybe one where he gets injured and with the rest of the bau he’s just brushing it off but when wifey pulls up? different story.

he’s just all 🥺🥺 at her and the team is like wtaf?

also can i be 🌊 anon pretty please?

healing touches

i love that 🥺🥺🤕 cw; bau fem!reader, established relationship (hehe they're soooo in love), injury/blood descriptions, aaron being stubborn🙄, playful banter, fluff <333

The first SUV arrived back at the police department after apprehending the unsub. Morgan, JJ and Prentiss walked inside, pulling their vests off in sync.

You might have been mistaken, but their gazes immediately locked onto you as they removed their protective gear. Their stares were almost unsettling, as if they knew something you didn’t, and were waiting to see the rest unfold. Unease filled you from head to toe.

"Hey," you stacked a few files together, placing them down. "How'd it go? Did you get him?"

"Yeah, 'course we did." Morgan sauntered over, dropping his vest onto the table with a thud.

"Well," Emily added, a slight grimace on her face. "Not without putting up a relentless fight. It wasn't pretty, I'll tell you that."

A bad feeling formed in your gut. Even Spencer's attention was gained, his head lifting from his book.

"What do you me-"

Your words were interrupted by Aaron and JJ walking in. JJ, perfectly fine. Aaron on the other hand, was moving at a much slower speed than normal, definitely banged up with a fair amount of blood present on his face.

Your eyes widened in alarm, meeting him halfway.

"Oh my god, Aaron. Are you okay?" You immediately unstrapped his vest for him, tucking it under your arm. The lessening pressure seemed to help some, light tension lifting from his body.

Your hand raised to cup his jaw, moving it gently to observe the damage. There was definitely a developing bruise underneath his right eye, his forehead and cheek were both littered with scrapes of all shapes and sizes. Aaron winced when his head reached a particular angle, and it wasn't a subtle wince either. It was a startling jolt, agonizing pain obvious.

But it was at your touch, and your presence, that his eyes softened. The stagnant sharpness dissolving as he looked at you with a tenderness that was almost too raw to hide. You pulled back to get a better look at him as whole, ensuring he was fully intact.

"He's 'fine', in case you were wondering. Only told us 'bout a million times." Morgan added air quotes, sitting down and kicking his feet onto the table. "Refused medical attention, even."

"Manners." You swatted his foot, causing him to lower them before turning back to Aaron. You tutted at him softly, "You did? After that lil stunt you just pulled?"

"Well... I guess it is starting to hurt more now."

"I wonder why," JJ commented humorously under her breath, hiding her smile with her palm. Additionally, Emily and Derek gave him a look.

You quickly reached into your bag, riffling through it until you found your handy tube of Neosporin. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up."

Aaron didn't argue, didn't utter a single word as he followed you to the bathroom like a lost puppy. Once inside the small space you maneuvered him back against the sink, washing your hands next.

"That was stupid of you." You wet a paper towel, dabbing his cuts and ridding of any dry blood, once again causing him to flinch at the touch. You pulled the towel away, pausing a moment, before resuming gently. "Even if you think you're not in need of getting checked out, please do, for my sake at least. I'd like my husband to stay in one piece if possible."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"What happened?"

"We were clearing the grounds and he managed to catch me by surprise," Aaron huffed out, evidently annoyed at himself. "I should have seen it coming. Seen him in the shadows, reacted faster."

"Baby, you may think you have the invincibility of Superman, but you don't. You're human, it's okay to miss things every once and a while." You reassured him softly, tossing the towel aside and moving onto the Neosporin. After dabbing some onto your index finger, you began blotting it thoroughly onto the cuts. "Which I'm fine with, by the way, you're much better looking."

"Yeah?" A laugh escaped Aaron, but his chuckle was interrupted by the twinge in his ribcage, the entirety of it shooting up in pain.

"I'm sorry," you gasped gently, guilt sweeping through you.

"It's fine, 'm fine." He breathed out through his teeth, his jaw clenching momentarily, until the pain subsided. "I'm okay sweetheart. Now c'mon, your face is far too pretty to look that worried."

Your eyebrows were furrowed, eyes frantically searching his face.

"Really. So I'm a little bruised up, I've been through far worse."

You sighed, not entirely convinced. "Fine. But when we get home tomorrow," your eyes narrowed slightly, pointing the Neosporin at him as a 'threat'. "You're resting. Come hell or high water."

"Deal."

"I'm happy you're okay." Suddenly emotional, tears dared to spill from your eyes. They stalled at your waterline, completely blurring your vision. You hated to see him in pain, and the reminder of past events didn't help. "Don't scare me like that."

"C'mere," Aaron raised his arms, gesturing for you to come close.

"I don't want to hurt you-"

"Come here."

You took a step forward, not raising your arms to potentially inflict pain, but rest your body against his. Your face found home in the crook of his neck, while his arms did wrap around you. Not as tight as usual, but enough to hold you and not hurt.

"I'm fine," he kissed the side of your head. "And I have my girl to thank for that. Although, you did miss a spot."

"I did? Where?" You pulled back, beginning to unscrew the tube's cap but Aaron's hand stopped you.

"Right here." He pointed to his lips, playing up the 'anguish' in his eyes. "Hurts real bad."

Your lips tugged into a smile, leaning in and offering him a short, sweet kiss.

"That's all I get?"

You playfully rolled your eyes before giving his lips another quick kiss. He chased your lips, but you pulled back, keeping just out of reach.

"Want a longer one? Get medical attention next time."

[poisonf0rest]

wrath of the sea god

♱⋅── rafayel x reader

♱⋅── about: Rafayel is a creature worthy of worship. Something born from the deep sea, something incomprehensible, something that should scare you. And yet his siren song only lulls you in closer, and you fear it may be too late to even think about running away. (deep sea monster!rafayel)

♱⋅── word count: 5.8k

♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, inhuman raf, possessiveness, worship, breeding kink, tw yandere, tw drowning, tw teratophilia, tw thalassophobia

art credit to @/hcneyvae on x, dividers by @cafekitsune

psst, if you want more monster!raf read this next

What does it mean, to drown in something?

To watch the surface break above you, disrupted by the last bubbles of oxygen leaving your lungs, like a lover’s final kiss. To feel the vicious urge to fight, to struggle, to scream even as you feel your final dregs of strength escape, leaving you cold and gnawing and alone. To not feel fear, because even as your vision goes dark the melody is still there, the voice still singing, cradling you gently as you draw blood. To know, perhaps, that drowning was the only way this story could have ended. 

What does it mean, when I kiss you and finally feel like I can breathe again, even if you were the reason I sank in the first place?

Rafayel has been nothing if not the perfect boyfriend. Clingy, annoying, hopelessly devoted, but perfect for you nonetheless. 

Three months into your relationship, and you’ve begun to notice things that are only just slightly… Off.

For one, Rafayel runs terrifyingly cold, and the baths he gives himself twice a day are even colder than he is, and when he teasingly splashes you with it you scream, complaining he’s soaking in the arctic or the depths of the ocean’s abyss.

But the approach of summer means more baths, more moisturizers, and more of poor Rafayel always complaining about how it’s too hot, too dry. His skin gets bumpy, rough, textured patches growing on the sides of his neck, his arms, down his ribs too. Like something coming to the surface, something cracking through the flesh. 

The list of anomalies goes on.

His joints bend just a little too much, his fingers curving at unnatural angles when he moves quickly or reaches for something. His spine rolls more like an eel or a shark than a human’s, like a creature still adjusting to having bones, something he brushes off as old habits from dance or ice skating. Whenever you take flash photos his eyes come out hollow, even the faintest glimmer makes them shimmer like something not meant for the surface. 

It’s becoming more common to catch Rafayel slipping now, uncanny moments where he fumbles and slows down, repeating certain movements or habits, as though remembering them. Reminding himself of them. 

You’re lounging on the couch in his studio, your legs kicked up onto his lap as Rafayel holds a book in one hand, the other caressing your ankle with the gentle rub of his thumb. Something prickles against the back of your neck and you look up over your phone, expecting to see Rafayel still engrossed in his reading. Instead, he’s staring down at you. Watching you, unblinking, for so long that your skin begins to crawl. 

At first, you don’t really mind— willingly lost in the warmth of his gaze, the way it seems to hold so much unspoken devotion, the way his pupils dilate viciously when you finally meet his gaze. But then minutes pass. He doesn’t shift, doesn’t fidget, doesn’t break eye contact.

"Raf," you say, laughing a little, trying to shake the unease creeping up your spine. "You're staring."

His lips quirk, just slightly. "Am I? Can’t help it, cutie."

You hum, expecting him to look away. He doesn’t. Instead, he tilts his head, something you’ve always considered adorable, the way his full lips pout and innocent doe eyes seem to plead up into yours, studying you with an intensity that makes your chest tighten.

Then you realize what’s wrong.

"Blink," you whisper, suddenly uncertain if he's forgotten how.

He does, slow and deliberate, like he’s remembering only because you told him. And when his eyes open again, they shine, hollow and flat, reflecting the dim light of the room like something that doesn’t belong in the light.

“Shit!” 

This is the last time you cut steak with a dull knife. 

It’s nothing severe, but you must have nicked a vein in your thumb, because the damn countertop is splattered with blood, a thick stream of it nearly at your wrist as you run for a paper towel. 

Rafayel was supposed to be by the stove, tending to the vegetables busy sauteing, but when you move to rip a sheet from the dowel, you find yourself bumping into him headfirst. How did he manage to cross the kitchen so fast?

His gaze flicks to your hand, brows furrowed. You follow it, noticing the vibrant red already soaking through all the layers of makeshift gauze. Maybe you cut yourself deeper than you though.

"It’s nothing, Rafayel," you say, knowing how worked-up he can get when you injure yourself, fully expecting a dramatic lecture later. 

Turning, you step to throw away the bloody napkins when his fingers close around your wrist too fast. Too tight. Rafayel’s pupils dilate, nearly turning his entire eye black as his body physically follows the trail of blood down your wrist, lips parting just slightly as if—

As if he’s tasting the scent of your blood on his tongue.

"Rafayel," you call to him again, voice shaking. Why is your voice shaking?

He blinks, slow, as if waking from something deep. His grip loosens, but his fingers linger, his thumb dragging just barely across your pulse against the inside of your wrist before he exhales a quiet, low sound from deep in his chest. Something between a sigh and a growl.

“You really should be more careful, miss hunter. You could get hurt next time.”

Neither of you notice the slight acrid smell of something burning in the background. 

The next time it happens late at night. 

After spending the weekend lazing in each other's company, the two of you decided to end the day with a movie, drifting from various positions on the couch to curling up against Rafayel’s chest, the soft glow of the TV flickering across the room. The credits are rolling, low music humming beneath the sound of his steady, rhythmic breathing. He’s cold, almost unnaturally so, compared to the sticky, sweltering summer night air, but you can only be thankful for that fact as his chill and the gentle rise and fall of his chest lull you into something hazy, that liminal space where thoughts slip too easily from your grasp.

When suddenly, it just stops. Rafayel’s body goes still beneath your touch. 

No breath. No movement.

Just complete and utter stillness.

It doesn’t register at first, not fully. Still feigning sleep, you fight to keep your own exhales even, purposefully holding your breath to get your heart to calm from its erratic skip, the hairs on your arms prickling, some primal part of you sensing it before your mind catches up. Wrong.

You shift slightly, pretending to be lost in a dream, just enough to press closer to his chest, to feel the gentle rhythm of where his lungs should be. Wrong.

But nothing comes. Rafayel’s chest does not rise, his heartbeat does not echo against your cheek. The only movement is the gentle circling of his fingers against the tender flesh of your ribs, tracing the curve of bone. Other than that, he is completely, utterly motionless beneath you, the kind of eerie stillness that isn’t possible for a human. A stillness reserved for hunters, for predators. Wrong. 

Something is wrong.

Your pulse kicks, a sharp, violent thud-thud-thud against your ribs, under the tips of Rafayel’s fingers, and in that instant—

Rafayel breathes again.

A slow, deep inhale as if rousing from sleep. His arm tightens around your waist, fingers slipping under your shirt as he shifts beneath you, stretching out his long limbs with an exaggerated yawn like nothing happened at all.

“You still awake?” His voice is drowsy, laced with warmth, so natural you almost believe it.

You nod, pressing closer, trying to shake the creeping chill settling in your bones. Maybe you imagined it. Maybe you were too tired, caught somewhere between dreaming and waking, your mind playing tricks on you. You were simply tired from the long week. Simply haunted by nightmares that no longer exist. 

But you feel it. The way Rafayel’s fingers idly stroke over your side, slow and soothing, almost seeking out your own heartbeat as close as he could get to it. The way he breathes too deliberately now, a flawless imitation of what he thinks you expect to hear. A rhythm that’s just a little too shallow, a little too perfect. 

Then, there’s something prodding and coaxing into your brain, and instantly, the feeling of calm returns. But your pulse does not slow, because the thought has already settled in the back of your mind, something cold and certain.

He didn’t start breathing again for his sake.

He did it for yours.

Rafayel must have been sculpted by divine hands. A Greek statue given breath, something carved from impossibly white marble and polished by time itself. 

His is a kind of beauty that isn’t soft or gentle, but arresting, almost violently so. One that makes your breath hitch every time he turns to face you, all sharp cheekbones and full lips, somewhere devastatingly between beautiful and handsome, possessing every muscled curve of a swimmer’s body honed by centuries in the depths. It isn’t just his face, his form, his effortless strength. It’s the way he moves. Angelic and otherworldly— graceful, powerful, always with the effortless magnificence of the ocean itself.

And, of course, his voice.

He hums under his breath sometimes, a habit he seems to be letting slip the longer the two of you are together, barely audible in the quiet hours when you’re cooking or painting or lounging together. At first you mistook it for an old record or the echoing sound of the ocean from the open balcony doors, and when you ask him about if Rafayel simply laughs it off, the sound addicting enough that soon you’re laughing too.

But on late nights after sex you hear him humming again, something absentminded and indulgent, like the sound exists only for his own amusement. And for yours. 

Oh, but when Rafayel sings, it’s something else entirely. It’s after an opera the first time you heard it, and any memory of the show prior is dissolved into a monotonous drivel at the music Rafayel makes. You swear you felt it in your ribs, melody settling beneath your skin, an ancient song that spoke to your soul in ways that left you dizzy and aching and yearning for something you couldn’t name. 

It left you hungry.

And still, Rafayel’s paintings hurt the most.

Each one nearly brought to life with each brushstroke, enough that you swear you can hear the crash of waves or the sharp sting of sea-salt, each one that brings a deep, unknowable sorrow and guilt to your core. Each one hurts to look at a little more than the last. 

There’s one painting in particular that hangs in his studio, larger than the rest. A towering, floor-to-ceiling masterpiece of muted blues and violent reds, brushstrokes slashing across the canvas with all the power of a storm at sea.

At first, you think it’s simply a shipwreck.

Then you’re lured in closer.

Bodies tangled in the waves, limbs limp and reaching. Some still clutching weapons, some are already swallowed by the dark. But every single figure seems perfectly content, relaxed, embracing death as they are lulled—just like you just like you—to the sirens below.

They are not the innocent beauties of fairy tales. They are terrible, glorious, vicious beings. Something between human and god, their bodies half-submerged, lips parted in a song you cannot hear but can still feel, something clawing at your heart, begging you to listen. Begging you to come closer. 

And Rafayel is among them.

It takes you a moment to recognize him, but once you do, you cannot unsee it. The slant of his jaw, the sharp curve of his cheekbone, his lips curled not in hunger, not in rage, but in something unreadable. Something almost mournful.

"Do you like it, cutie?" His voice startles you.

You turn, pulse jumping, but Rafayel’s only watching you with that same lopsided smile, arms crossed loosely over his chest. He looks like part of a masterpiece himself, bare shoulders kissed by the low light, the soft glow catching on his collarbones, his throat, his hands. 

"They were hunted." Not a question.

A laugh. Short, humorless. "Of course they were, don’t you know Lemurians cry pearls?"

Your fingers tighten at your sides, but nothing you could think of saying seemed appropriate. After all, what did you possibly have to offer a mourning god? 

You look back at the painting. "And worshipped?"

Rafayel’s gaze lingers on the canvas for a long moment before sliding back to you, eyes failing to reflect the light of the sun as he tucks himself into your embrace, pulling you close. You swallow hard, body naturally yielding to relax into his embrace. You’re not prey, and yet, something in you screams at you to run.

"Is there a difference?"

You don’t answer. 

You think of the way he moves, the way he sings, the way your breath catches every time he looks at you, the way you could drown in the depths of his eyes, the cloudless blue like the ocean at dawn, stained with a red more vibrant than blood. Like a shipwreck. Like a massacre. 

“Would you worship me, cutie?” Rafayel purrs against the shell of your ear, nipping the tender flesh. Your knees buckle, and you’re already kneeling before him, looking up at those same eyes as he smiles at your answer. 

You already do.

You’ve been noticing gaps in your memory.

Not big ones. Nothing you can really say for certain, just little things, things you used to chalk up to your goldfish memory. Forgetting why you stood up. Losing track of time mid-conversation. Finding yourself already doing something before you even register why.

And it always—always—happens when Rafayel is speaking to you.

It’s never forceful. Never obvious. But there’s always a soft hum in his voice, a subtle pull in the melody beneath his words.

You don’t even remember when he began doing it, and that might be what frightens you most. 

You’ve always been weak for Rafayel, giving in as soon as he pouts and complains about how he might die of neglect, how he just needs you so badly, and how, oh, won’t you do this for him? There’s no command. No sharp pull at your mind, no unnatural force prying into your thoughts. Just his voice, smooth and honeyed, curling around your resolve like the tide creeping onto the shore. Gentle. Patient. And before you even notice, you're waist-deep, sinking into something you can’t quite name.

"Let’s go to the beach," Rafayel suggests, fingers lazily tracing patterns against your thigh.

You frown down at him, in the midst of filling out a hunter’s report when he snatches your computer away, replacing it with his own head plopping down in your lap. 

You glance at the clock, it’s already six pm. Late, not to mention the drive is an hour away. And you have a mission early in the morning.

"I can’t," you say.

He hums, thoughtful. "Mm. No, of course not." He turns his head, pulling your sleep shirt up just enough to kiss your stomach, lips cool against your skin, grazing your hip as he speaks. "But," a pause. A slow, indulgent breath. "Wouldn’t it be nice? Just us. Moonlight on the waves. I could take you out past the shallows, show you things no other human has ever seen."

You close your eyes. You can picture it too easily. The salt in the air, the sound of the tide pulling you both forward. His hands on you, weightless in the water, his voice a hum against your throat. A melody entering your brain. 

"It’s a Tuesday," you murmur, weaker now.

Rafayel begins sitting up, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "So what?" Another to your jaw, "Work is so boring, you don’t need it anymore. Not when you’re with me." You feel him smile, sucking a mark right against your pulse. "It’ll be worth it, promise."

You should say no.

You should.

You should shut out the idea of indulging him, of the welcoming feel of sand beneath your toes and the gentle curl of the tide. And how nice the fading sunlight feels on your skin. Because you’re already standing at the shoreline, waves licking at your ankles, the city far, far behind you. Rafayel’s fingers laced with yours, his smile easy, teasing as he pulls you forward. 

You don’t remember driving here.

Your pulse stutters. "Rafayel."

He turns to you, eyes dark, unreadable, his mouth curving into a wide smile, a sweet gummy one that has too many teeth. Rows upon rows, like a shark’s, gone by the time you blink. "Yes, my muse?"

You swallow hard. The words tangle on your tongue, and you forget, just for a moment, why you were about to say them.

But the worst is when he begs.

Because it doesn’t feel unnatural, it doesn’t feel wrong.

Because it feels good.

You don’t realize how much you’re giving him until your body won't stop trembling, until you’re wrecked and obedient, until he’s cooing praise against your skin like you’re something precious. 

“Can’t–” you sob, barely getting the word out. “Can’t cum again. Please, Raf, Raf, please don’t.”

Your hands scramble for his head, still buried between your thighs, tugging violently against those sweat-slick strands of hair as you all but scream as he whines into your cunt in protest.

You’ve lost track of how many times he’s made you come, lost track of how long you’ve been beneath him, beneath his touch, beneath the spell of his voice. Time means nothing, just a rhythm of sensation and need.

All that you can feel is the hot layer of sweat making the sheets stick to the sharp arch in your back, the painful overstimulation of your clit as Rafayel moves to suckle against it once more, lapping greedily as you kick and push at his shoulders with a cry. You can’t take it, not again, not when you’re already raw and aching and falling apart.

"Just one more time, cutie," he begs, relenting just long enough to kiss your marked-up thigh. "Please? Look s’cute like this, taste even sweeter."

Rafayel’s pale skin glows faintly where his lips brush yours, a ripple of bioluminescence that pulses in time with your heartbeat. The dull blue light blooming along his veins, casting soft, eerie shadows across the sheets, a reminder of the alien beauty woven into his flesh and blood.

You’re sobbing, shaking your head as the entire room spins around you even without the extra stimulation. But Rafayel simply unlaces your poor trembling hands from his hair, unfurling your fists and kissing your palm before intertwining your fingers together, pinning them to the bed as he leans in closer. His hands are cold, an icy restraint to your feverish skin, and you shiver, goosebumps prickling along your arms.

"Last time, promise."

You don’t believe him. You shouldn’t.

But Rafayel’s voice is addictive, liquid gold, sinking into your skin, forcing you to relax against him just enough for his mouth to reacquaint itself with your swollen clit, immediately making you scream again as your hips mindlessly buck, writhing to get away, to find mercy from his touch as you fight to hold onto the last scraps of your fraying resolve.

“Don’t.” His voice is a purr, a low warning against your flesh as his hand tightens, pressing your wrists together, bruising. “Don’t run from me. Don’t make me chase you.”

Your body stills, responding to his command before you can even process what he's said. Surrendering as he hooks your ankles around his neck, forcing you up onto your shoulders as his tongue delves back into your cunt, curling inside you, savoring every spasm, every quiver. It’s a slow, indulgent kiss, his tongue is colder than his lips, drooling and messy as he brings you closer and closer to the edge for the nth time. 

"You’d never leave me right?" His voice once again sings like a promise against your skin. "You can’t. You wouldn’t, she’s too sweet for that—" His nose grinds against your clit and you moan, seizing. "Always so needy, always taking me so well. Practically made to worship me."

You're babbling nonsense now, incoherent. Rafayel coos, kissing you through it, one hand never letting go of yours as the other greedily gropes up the plush of your ass, your breasts, and he watches with rapt fascination as you arch for him. He rolls your nipple between his fingers, and wonders absentmindedly how it is you humans produce milk. How he could get you to do that for him.

A deep trill vibrates through him at the thought, more felt than heard, a sound that curls around your ribs and settles there. 

“You know that you’re mine, don’t you?” he breathes, voice dipping lower, “Mine. Made for me. Nothing else in this world could satisfy you like I do. You’ll never need another god.”

Rafayel’s words slip into you, twisting through your mind, settling like truth in your core. And just like that you shudder, body tensing, and you’re cumming again, hard.

Squirting across Rafayel’s awaiting mouth and jaw as you scream his name like a prayer, cum dripping down his heaving chest. Rafayel moans, lapping at the mess, and you feel his devotion in the way his entire body trembles as he consumes you, as he claims you, his offering, his sacrifice. His beloved bride.

His fingers subconsciously trace your empty ring finger. Worshiping it, memorizing it.

You don’t even realize you’re still nodding as his fingers loosen their grip on your thighs, finally setting you back down on the bed as a pleased little sound spills from his lips. His tongue drags up your limp body, lazy and lingering, kissing every inch of you, bringing your hand up to kiss your ring finger as well.

Nuzzling his face between your breasts, Rafayel looks up at you, eyes glowing, too bright, too colorful, too gorgeously inhuman.

When sensation finally returns to your legs, the haze of pleasure fading and your breath evening out, you’re revolted by the feeling of something releasing its hold on your mind. Shuddering, you press a hand to your temple, trying to shake off the eerie feeling of something slipping out of your head.

Rafayel watches you, tilting his head, his fingers brushing lightly down your arm as he pushes himself up on his elbows. Grabbing your chin, he swallows any questions you might have asked, kissing you with the same reverence he did your clit and every inch of your body before, the taste of you still on his tongue. When he pulls away, his expression is soft, almost tender, even as his hand curls back around your ankle, a possessive shackle.

“You’ll never need another god,” he repeats, the words sinking into your bones, echoing in your mind. His fingers tighten, just enough to make your breath hitch. “Because you’re mine.”

And yet, you’re the one who can’t seem to breathe without him.

You suppose it should scare you, knowing Rafayel isn’t human. Even if you have yet to understand what a Lemurian really is or wants, what Rafayel’s true form really looks like, what or who truly resides in him. 

You suppose it should scare you that despite not knowing any of this, you listen to his every whim regardless. 

The ocean is calm tonight, with the full moon hanging directly overhead and her silver providing the only light over rolling waves. You’re floating on your back, eyes closed, weightless in the gentle pull of the tide, safe knowing Rafayel couldn’t be far away. He never is. 

At least, you can only assume that’s still the case. Since the ocean itself is dark enough that it blends in with the horizon, dark enough that you wouldn’t be able to see your own toes should you stop floating, the only sounds are the gentle crashing of waves on the distant shore. 

Rafayel was untraceable in the water, his powerful twenty-foot-something Lemurian form outpacing yours as soon as he hit the water, cutting through the black waves with a grace that should be impossible for a creature of that size. That was nearly an hour ago, and only an occasional singing that seemed to both surround you and come from deep within the ocean served as reminders that your lover was never far away.

There it is again, that distant sorrowful song, and you try and hum along, not realizing how far from shore you’ve drifted. 

Something brushes your ankle.

Jolting upright, you spit out a bit of salt water from your scare, scanning the horizon as you tread water. Rafayel is nowhere in sight.

Of course you don't even realize he's been circling you, tail cutting above the waves before twisting around your kicking legs. Laughter echoes into the night, sweet and addicting, enough to have your body relax involuntarily into the cold rock of the waves. Enough to send every other sea creature swimming away in terror.

Then, warmth. Hands, familiar and steady, slide up your bare ribs. There wasn’t even so much as a splash as Rafayel swims closer, arms pulling you in tight, nuzzling deep into the crook of your neck as you feel the entire length of his tail tighten like a coil around your body. He could drown you before you'd even remember to scream.

Rafayel kisses up your neck, savoring the taste of sea salt, arousal, and fear against the broad, cold length of his tongue. It feels rougher than usual. 

“Need you, cutie.” A trill, something deep and low, vibrating in his chest as his entire body tightens its grip around you. Grinding up against you. “Need you s’bad.”

His voice is a low, syrupy murmur, words dripping into your ear with the same fluid grace as his body winding around yours. You shudder, pulse thrumming as the coil of his tail tightens, the powerful muscle shifting against your skin, keeping you perfectly in place. The realization should terrify you. Perhaps it should terrify you more that it doesn’t. 

But Rafayel’s still nipping at the delicate skin of your neck and jaw as that soft, mournful hum resonates from his chest. The sound vibrates through your bones, familiar and soothing, seeping into your mind as easily as seawater through the crevices of a sinking ship.

You shiver, the sensation of his touch and the water deliciously cold against the heat pooling in your belly.

“Missed you,” he murmurs, turning you so you straddle only a fraction of his enormous tail, clinging to his shoulders and the scales that now rest there. “Hate that you can’t swim with me, can’t see my home.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, the same playful lightness you’ve heard a thousand times. But beneath it lies a deep, aching hunger that has his clawed fingers pressing into your ribs, hard enough to draw blood.

“I-It’s not exactly possible,” you stammer, voice shaking, breathless, the world narrowing to the feel of his enormous body wrapped around yours, the prodding of something slimy and thick between your legs, the soft vibration of his hum still echoing inside your head. “I can’t breathe underwater like you, Rafayel.”

He pouts at that, tail flexing, shifting, and you feel two other appendages begin to caress your thighs, gently snaking around them. Not that you could see what exactly they were, not with how impossibly dark the ocean is, left completely to his mercy. 

“Poor little human,” Rafayel coos, feigning sympathy as his hands begin to wander, cupping and squeezing roughly at your breasts. A constant fascination he excuses for the fact that fish don’t produce milk and thus have no need for such… interesting appendages. “Your silly human body isn’t much fun. Too fragile. I can fix that.”

His words send a chill through you, something prickling at your spine—but then his lips are on yours, firm and insistent, stealing the breath from your lungs as his fingers tangle in your hair. His inhumanly long tongue invades your mouth, rough and tasting of salt and sea, and you melt, hands clawing into his shoulders as he swallows your moan, fucking his tongue down your throat. 

His tail shifts again, something sharp nicking your inner thigh as you gasp into the kiss, only allowing Rafayel to press in closer, deeper, grinding against your core.

Your body reacts on instinct, earning another low trill, hips rolling to meet the pressure, Rafayel’s hands still busy pleasuring your chest as something else forces your legs wider, guiding his cock to grind against you once, twice, fighting the tense ring of muscle as you quiver. 

“Please, cutie. Please let me in, my sweet darling. Please, please,” he’s rambling, begging so sweetly into your lips as you feel the jagged cut of his teeth trace down your neck, collarbone, grazing your nipple, licking up the drops of blood as your flesh splits as easily as rotten fruit on the edge of a knife. “So good to me. Always so good to me.”

You barely recognize the moan that leaves your throat—something needy, desperate. And at that sound Rafayel shudders, something else writhing against your pussy as it suddenly pushes in, thrusting and sucking gently at your entrance before following a rhythm he knows will make you fall apart. 

“Rafayel, wait, cold. It’s cold—” 

“Shh, you’ll warm it up.”

You can only moan in response, clinging onto Rafayel like a lifeline as the ocean surges around the both of you, your limbs trembling and useless as one of Rafayel’s hands goes to circle your clit, matching the tempo of his thrusts as you come undone with a silent scream.

“Say it again for me,” he whispers, reverence dripping from every syllable. His eyes—too blue, too bright—burn into yours, possessive, adoring, hungry. And when he looks at you like that, how could you ever refuse? “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

Your heart stutters. There’s a pull, something deep and heavy, sinking into your chest. The hum returns, curling around your thoughts, coaxing you to say the words, to give him what he wants. What you both want.

“Yes,” you whisper, the word slipping past your lips before you even realize it. “Yours.”

Rafayel’s pupils narrow into slits, and his mouth crashes against yours, hungry and savage. His tail tightens, grinding against you with purpose now, every slow roll of his hips sending another shockwave of pleasure through you, something else beginning to press up against you as well as the first intrusion begins to retreat from your poor overstimulated pussy. 

“Do you trust me?” he asks, teeth scraping against your pulse, marking delicate skin of your throat. Something under the water coils tighter, pulling you closer, keeping you where you belong.

No. 

“Yes.”

His laughter is the last thing you hear, soft and sweet, washing away every other thought before the roar of the ocean swallows you whole.

The cold is instant, biting, sinking into your bones as the saltwater tears into your nose and mouth. Panic claws up your throat as your chest seizes, lungs heaving uselessly, instinctively, drawing in nothing but seawater.

Instinct demands you thrash, but Rafayel is there, hugging around you like a devoted lover, like a predator with his kill. He drags you down deeper, enraptured, scales scraping against your skin as his body locks you against him, pressing you against the seafloor as the two of you hit the bottom, soft sand floating under your back. 

How easy would it be, to leave you full of his brood and writhing, before dragging you to some island far, far away. 

He’s dazed at the thought, still inside you, still thrusting, still playing with your body as if you aren’t suffocating, as if the way you kick and claw at his back, nails tearing into flesh and fins, is only a sign of pleasure. You feel him shudder, and it isn’t just from the tight, helpless way you squeeze around him.

It’s your eyes that Rafayel can’t seem to look away from. They’re wide, wild, locked on his face with desperate, pleading terror. Adoration. Fear. Love.

So human, so fragile, and all you can focus on is him, the rest of the ocean blurring into a black abyss.

Rafayel adores it, finally being the epicenter of your attention. 

A low, pleased rumble vibrates through his chest, pupils blown wide, swallowing the blue of his eyes until they’re black and endless, reflecting your horrified face right back at you.

All the screaming has left you dizzy, and Rafayel moans, pushing deeper, grinding his enormous tail against your overstimulated clit as your throat convulses around a silent moan as you watch the bubbles leave your throat. 

Smiling, Rafayel’s lips curl, exposing sharp, jagged teeth, feeling each shudder, each pitiful, heaving spasm as your lungs beg for oxygen. He wonders how they must feel, those delicate sacks of air tightening, twisting inside you.

Pressing his palm against your chest, right over your heart, Rafayel feels the stuttering beat as it races then begins to falter, slowing to a delicate pulse under his touch. 

He could watch you like this forever.

Your nails rake down his arms, leaving raw, bloody scratches as the world begins to go dark. He shudders, his cock twitching inside you at the sting, the way you keep fighting even as your movements grow sluggish, your limbs growing heavy. Your chest heaves one last time, and then your eyes leave Rafayel’s, rolling back as your lips part in a silent prayer. 

No. No, don't look away from him.

It makes Rafayel frown, wanting your gaze focused on him alone, wanting your attention back. He wants it forever. His tail coils, possessive, hugging you tight with all the devotion of a human lover as he finally, finally leans in, pressing his mouth to yours.

His hands come down to caress your jaw, fangs nicking your lips as he forces them apart, kissing air back into your lungs. 

And you breathe in again, sobbing into the kiss, body trembling, clinging to Rafayel like he’s your lifeline. You do what he knew you would. You kiss him back. Desperate, dazed, pushing closer as though you don't realize there's no where else you could go, the deep, endless dark of the ocean yawning hungrily above you both. 

He's close, so close now. Body nearly aglow with that eerie, deep-sea light, casting shadows onto your body as you welcome him even now, desperate for warmth, for safety, for him.

“Mine,” Rafayel sings against your lips in a language you cannot understand. Savoring the way you still arch up to kiss him again and again, desperate for his air and his touch despite it all. Despite knowing what he is. Despite knowing what he wants. “My mate.”

When he finally cums he feels it breach your womb, he feels you swell with it, feels it stick with how eagerly your body welcomes him, his perfect little human.

And for the first time, you truly wonder if you were meant to survive loving something like him.

[myderis]

love bites ꒱ mydei 'n fem reader ᰔ fluff 'n suggestive ⊹ word count 0.7k

MYDEI loved fiercely, the way only a warrior could—tender and untamed. The softness of his lips contrasting to how his fingers gripped your waist, after all, he was a child born under the influence of the God of Strife, a lion raised in war destined to fight, conquer, and guard his pride.

And just like a lion, he marked what was his. His teeth grazed the back of your neck, a possessive bite that made you ache for more, feeling the heat of his breath against your skin and it was maddening, the way he claimed your body and soul.

If someone had told you in the past that one day you’d be in a secret relationship with the prince of Kremnos, you would’ve laughed outright. The thought alone seemed absurd, almost impossible. But here you were hiding from prying eyes and mouths full of gossip.

The secret garden, aptly named by you, as what you do must remain a secret. Mydei had you pinned, his body pressed close, his hands exploring every inch of you, and when his soft lips met yours, demanding and giving, leaving you breathless. Kisses were traded like whispered secrets, stolen and deepened until soft gasps escaped your lips and you felt him smirk.

And just as your head tilted back, letting him have his fun, the sound of approaching footsteps, and rather familiar voice were caught in the distance. You froze. Mydei stiffened, his lips still lingering on your skin as both of you turned toward the sound. A figure stood at the edge of the clearing, eyes wide, mouth slightly open in shock.

“I apologize for the interruption and my uninvited presence at such a time." It was Aglaea the Goldweaver, the one bearing the Coreflame of Romance…She wasn’t shocked to find you together, she was surprised by Mydei’s affection towards you.

For once, you don’t pity her—that she doesn’t need light to measure the world, because the threads tell her more than enough. And this time, those threads had woven her right to you. Aglaea hesitated, her head tilting as though trying to decide whether to retreat or approach. Then, softly, she spoke again. “I need your help. It’s an important matter.”

You sighed, not wanting to be away from Mydei just yet, but when you glanced at him, his eyes met yours. Silently, they permitted you to go. “I will make it up to you, my love.” And as you kissed him goodbye, he didn’t fully turn around to watch you leave. His presence stayed, like a ghost kiss on your skin, as if he was with you even if he wasn't.

Aglaea placed a hand lightly on your arm as you turned to follow her. “I won’t tell anyone about this,” she promised, gently smiling at you. “Your secret is safe with me.” After all, she is your best friend and she keeps her promises.

Now, hours later in the company of Aglaea and Phainon, the golden threads of her robes shining bright as she adjusted them, you absentmindedly brushed a loose strand of hair back over your shoulder.

“Woah… What happened to you, (Name)?” Phainon’s voice caught you off guard because he seemed rather impressed.

You blinked at him, confused. “What?”

“That thing on your neck…” He pointed at his own neck to mimic the spot. “Is that a hickey?” Your eyes went wide as you panicked. A nervous laugh escaped your lips. “Oh, that is, um…” You turned to Aglaea, silently begging for help, but she was too busy adjusting her garmentmaker to notice. “That is a…”

“Something you have been hiding from me?” Phainon smirked, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying your embarrassment, to the point where he wanted to make you tell him everything in his special way.

“No! I was just… cuddling with a baby lion,” you blurted out, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. Phainon raised a brow, very skeptical. “A baby lion? Well, that’s cute. So when do I get to meet your new little pet?”

Before you could come up with another excuse, the door opened, and a familiar figure stepped in. It was Mydei. Phainon glanced between you and him, his smirk growing wider. He leaned in, and you just wanted to wipe the smile off his face. “Actually, I think I’ve already met him.”

© MYDERIS. do not translate, plagiarize, or steal my work.

[sukunasweetheart]

hear me out on bully!sukuna okay...

warnings; highschool setting, DUBCON, dry humping, thigh fucking, unprotected sex, sex in a confined space, semi-public sex, breeding, sukuna is kinda mean but is a simp at the same time, groping, cum in panties, just lots and lots of cum, "just the tip" he lied, mentions of pregnancy risk, ?cheating, sukuna the toxic tsundere but is horrendously down bad and perverted, eventual or mildly submissive sukuna?, this isn't gonna be the healthiest relationship - but its to be expected tho bc its a bully fic so..

Word count; 5.5k

bully!sukuna bothers you because he has a weird complex with you - preferring to be outright hated by you rather than deal with indifference or facing possible rejection.

it's often teetering on the edge of actual bullying; his existence is more of a nuisance than a serious distress to you.

he often loves getting on your nerves by tripping you up with his foot, only to catch you himself, or he purposefully bumps into you in the hallways making you almost topple over - like the fucking asshole he is. and you'll never forget the time you happened to get paired up with him on an assignment and the bastard had the audacity to try and take you both down by not doing his part. in exchange for his participation, he had you carry his bag for him around school for a week...

and he only gets more thrilled the more you fight back or retaliate.

sukuna likes to call you names, often using very condescending and colourful insults against you. and he likes to harass and chase off any potential boyfriends that come your way. that last one pisses you off the most. you want a boyfriend so bad, and that bastard is being such a huge cockblock. god forbid a girl wants to get laid. all your friends have had their first times already - why can't you?!

and he's back at it again too, after finding out that another guy confessed to you at school today. you accepted it. obviously when he wasn't watching. for a damn reason.

he finds out your last class was P.E today and you find yourself cornered in the locker room, empty of girls except for you. you ended up lagging behind as you were texting your new boyfriend over your phone after class. you try to walk past him to go home, but he traps you against your own locker.

you end up snapping back at him, having had enough of it.

"what is wrong with you? you know what? i think you're obsessed with me!" you shout back, shoving at his chest.

"who do you think you are, to stop me from getting a boyfriend... what, do you like me or something?" you speak without thinking, in a fit of anger.

"i bet you do! i bet you go home every night and jerk off to daydreams of me. is that right?" you go off, pushing every button you can.

sukuna falls silent. you expect him to argue back, to deny all your claims fiercely, and then go storming off, having heard enough of your nonsense.

but he's glaring at you, tight lipped, ears and cheeks turning bright red.

"...why're you silent all of a sudden? say something..." you continue awkwardly. "don't tell me... you actually...?"

"shut up," he hisses at you. "just shut up, for a second."

he wears an expression you've never seen on him before, and seems to be thinking about what to say next. he looks as though he wants to say something.

you open your mouth to tell him 'nevermind', but the sound of a small group of girls approaching the locker room is audible, which interrupts the both of you, and you panic. just what kind of rumours would spur on if they caught you and sukuna like this in here? you only just got your first boyfriend, there's no way you're gonna let this bastard ruin that for you!

thinking quickly, you open up your locker and roughly push sukuna inside, and then jump in after him. you shut the locker door quietly and peek outside through the little gaps at the top. the girls come in, having come back to get something that they left behind. what terrible timing.

one of the girls walk up a little close to your liking and you end up moving your body back as far as you can, your back pressing up against sukuna without thinking. and then you're startled by the low and quiet groan you hear behind you.

whipping around, you see sukuna with clouded eyes and a tightened jaw, barely able to fit inside this narrow locker. but he doesn't find it in himself to feel uncomfortable or annoyed at the situation.

after all, your ass is pressed up tightly against his growing bulge right then and there.

you were right about what you'd said earlier. he'd always daydreamed of a moment like this, pumping his cock at the thought of doing lewd things with you...

you turn back to the front, panicked. what the fuck? why does he look... like that?

kinda hot...

shaking your head, you try to ignore your beating heart, praying that the girls exit the locker room soon so that you can quickly escape from this situation.

meanwhile, sukuna's hands struggle to keep away from you as his brain begins to short circuit, dick helplessly twitching in his pants, chest heaving but it being of no help - as the locker fills with the scent of you in it, the sweetness of your shampoo and perfume, making his heart pump harder.

you slowly shuffle forward a little, trying not to lean against him so much. when are these girls leaving... you think to yourself. they've started gossiping amongst themselves, sitting on the bench. goddamn it!

large hands fall onto your hips and pull you back toward him. you feel him grinding his crotch against your ass, and you know that whatever is poking you is definitely his fucking boner.

"what the fuck, sukuna? s-stop," you whisper to him as quietly as you can.

sukuna has stopped his thinking in itself entirely. whatever's making him act right now is nothing but his pure and selfish desires. there's no way he can resist you when you're the one who climbed inside your own locker with him. he needs to relieve his ache somehow.

he gets more and more handsy with you as each minute passes. his large hand snakes up to fondle your clothed tits as he continues to discreetly dry hump your ass.

you should be disgusted. you should jump out right now and snitch on him and call him a molester right in front of these girls.

but good god, this feels like... nothing you've felt before. his wandering hands. his immense horniness. this tight enclosed space. the size of his boner. it's all making you excited in a weird way, and you're starting to feel aroused at your core.

sukuna is doing his best to get some pleasure from this minimal friction he's getting inside his tight space, but it's not enough. the desperation and arousal claws at him, his dick hurting from how tightly it's sitting in his pants. he swallows on nothing.

fuck it. he's already started. why hold back now?

you feel a shift behind you and the sound of fabric and a zipper being undone. is he...?

you gasp softly when something hot and hard gets pushed between your thighs. it's... it's pulsing. you can't believe this is happening. with sukuna, out of all people? should you be mortified or intrigued? you fear that the latter might be truer.

there's ringing in his ears. not a single logical thought is occupying his brain as he thinks purely with his dick at the moment, having waited so long for a moment like this. fuck, he's so hard. and it only excites him more that you haven't leapt out of this locker yet, running away from him. even though you could. his heart is on the verge of beating it's way up to his throat.

small, shallow thrusts. you feel his heavy cock rub up against your inner thighs, and both of his large hands are now groping your clothed breasts lewdly. he unbuttons your blouse, and then messily pulls down your bra, as he's desperate to feel the real thing, and you can't muster the strength to swat him away. when his fingertips tease your nipples, you have to stop yourself from making any noise. you've always wanted someone to touch you there...

never did you know that someone would be sukuna. you grab his wrist in a fit of desperation.

"you're a fucking pervert... what the hell are you doing?" you tell him a tad bit loudly, trying to deny the heat in your cunt.

"... did you guys hear something?" one of the girls suddenly ask outside.

your heart drops to your stomach as this sets off a panic inside you again. a big, warm hand clasps over your mouth, shushing you effectively.

"quiet..." he mumbles into the shell of your ear, and it weakens your knees. it never occurred to you that he's always had an attractive voice. a wave of goosebumps wash over your skin.

you look down. you can get a tiny peek of his tip whenever he thrusts in... it's so fucking big. you can't possibly fit that inside you, could you? when you catch that it's glistening with precum, your pussy squeezes around nothing.

one hand still over your mouth and the other teasing your tits, sukuna is busy slowly chasing an orgasm, regardless of the girls that have gotten a little wary outside. they soon forget about it and continue their pointless chatter.

fuck... his cock is so close to your cunt. the thought of it makes him shudder. he's almost there.

your hands are semi-clawing at his hand that's still against your mouth, when you suddenly feel him cease the incessant groping at your breasts. instead, it goes under your skirt - a finger loosening your panties up to fit his fat cock beneath the flimsy fabric.

there it is. your bareback fuckin' pussy. he has to bite his own lip to hold off groaning out loud. he does his best to slide his dick in and out against your slit - being restricted in movement due to the tight space, but make doing somehow.

you're actually thankful for his hand covering your mouth up, as you would've definitely moaned out loud if it weren't for him. it's unreal how turned on you are right now. does he feel it? all the slick pouring out of you? it's so, so strange. you were so sure that you didn't want this with him before, but not anymore...

it grazes over your clit over and over, painfully teasing, and you need to orgasm so badly.

sukuna jolts his hips against you, giving a final short thrust as his tip catches the fabric of your panties - he presses his own face against your neck to effectively silence himself as he reaches his first high.

you shudder as his dick pulsates between your thighs so strongly, making a hot mess in your underwear, cum spilling out in thick ropes - you feel the heat of it on your poor cunt, and you shiver as sukuna inhales deeply against your neck, his breathing wavering, dick aching for more even as it continues to spill heavily, creaming your panties. his tongue licks a stripe up your neck, causing you to shiver.

it's a pleasure that's greater than he could've ever given himself alone. but he wants more. he needs more.

you're in the middle of trying to gather yourself again, but you again, feel him moving his hips. just what is he up to now...?

your eyes widen when you catch onto how he's trying to thrust himself inside you now. there's no way... you struggle against him but he holds you still - mouth still firmly silenced by his palm.

the best he can do is have the tip inside. but for now, it's enough. he doesn't care - as long as he can get whatever pleasure that's available...

"j-just the tip..." he whispers with the smallest voice he can manage, against your ear again. it turns you on so good.

you can't help but enjoy when he gropes at your chest again, his tip bullying it's way in your desperate and wet hole, popping in and out, in and out, in and out.

even with just the tip, you're about to lose your mind. you want more, but at the same time you're scared what'll happen to your mind if he shoves that whole thing inside you.

sukuna's brain is yet again short circuiting as he dips the tip of his cock into your hot and slippery cunt - making him feral and desperate to get deeper. yet, what's stopping him is this confined space that suffocates him. there isn't enough oxygen for both of you here, and he wonders whether it's you or the lack of oxygen that's making him endlessly breathless.

oh, he's close again.

he's going to cum again, but this time inside. you want to protest, but you've always wondered... does it feel good to have it spill inside? regardless, you still try to struggle against him purely because you don't like the thought of sukuna knowing that you're enjoying this. even though it's already too late.

he holds you so tightly against him - before letting himself loose once again - tip poking into your pussy as he pumps inside, balls clenching. your hole is welcoming, and it puckers around him mind numbingly, milking his heavy cock for everything he has. you feel the warmth of his seed reaching inside you but not very deep - most of it trickles back out onto your panties. he twitches against you harder and more intensely, hips shoving into you messily.

you're both out of breath...

...and that's when both of you hear the girls leaving the locker room with muffled laughter, successfully avoided noticing you and him inside.

they turn the lights off before they leave, and the locker room turns dark and silent. you're now sweating against sukuna - and the moment you feel his hands loosen against you, you push the locker door open and step outside, unsure of what exactly you're trying to run from. sukuna himself? or the fact that you might be forming some kind of attraction to him? to the way he treats you?

but alas, no matter how fast you think you are, you could never beat sukuna's reflexes. in that quick momentum, he's pursued you outside and grabbed your arm - before pulling you back and shoving you against the now closed locker door.

"where do you think you're going?" he asks with a deep and low voice, vein popping on his forehead and looking desperate and an intense blush being permeated on his face. why is it that it's always made you feel so squirmy, whenever he cornered you like this? the size difference, the strength difference... the pervert here is not only him, it seems.

your needy gaze flutters from his eyes down to his exposed cock. it's veiny, throbbing, and leaking messily. it looks heavy and most importantly... it's so fucking big.

in the blink of an eye, sukuna has hiked your legs up, holding you up against the lockers, making it so that you cannot run from him again. it's game over.

"having the nerve to try and run after seducing me with your ass..." sukuna mutters angrily, lining his dick above your cunt and tummy, showing off how deep it'll reach if he slid it inside.

"no- i didn't..." you protest weakly, heart hammering with excitement. "idiot... let me down."

you tell him, despite your arms that loop around his neck.

"your voice is lacking it's usual sharpness," sukuna tells you breathlessly, flipping your skirt up and pushing your panties aside. it's still wet with his previous loads. oh- he can't think straight.

"wait-! something that big won't fucking fit!" you tell him, only now the fear beginning to hit you. moreover, you're afraid he'll end up breaking you and stop all rational thinking - this is dangerous.

"it will. i'll mould the shape of your insides to my fuckin' cock," sukuna insists, eyes focused on your wet glistening pussy. so pretty.

he pushes it in. but he doesn't stop there. he pushes it in all the way. balls fucking deep.

your eyes widen and when he thrusts the whole thing in one go, you well and truly break. legs trembling, pleasure washes over you and you cry out a moan.

"fuck-! did you just cum? are you cumming?" sukuna asks, panting, slowly sliding himself in and out as your cunt spasms around him. soon enough, he speeds it up and makes sure his tip is bullying your cervix with each deep thrust, eyes rolling back as your walls welcome him so warmly and clamp down on him.

"haah- haah- mm, fuck! you're so fuckin' tight! ugh, 'm gonna bust again," he slurs messily, hips moving non-stop. the unkempt bush of his pubic hair gives friction against you adding onto your strange sensations of pleasure. drool begins to roll out from the corner of your mouth.

his balls have never felt heavier as they slap against your wet ass each time he slams his cock inside, slick pooling out of you and creating droplets on the floor. he has a lot to give you... and your cunt is being so agreeable, the way it sucks on him, warm and wet. it's turning him animalistic, no thoughts running inside his brain except to fucking breed this hole. breed you.

not inside... not inside... you think, not realising that you're not saying it out loud.

"i'm gonna do it inside. i'm gonna-!" he hisses, hips stuttering at the last second.

"ugh- shit! 'm c-cumming... fuuck... fuck!" sukuna cusses deeply, thighs trembling as he continues giving tiny, but sharp thrusts even as he's spilling into you while buried to the hilt.

it's hot. you can feel that it's thick. there's so much. even more than his two previous loads. sukuna's face being twisted in pleasure puts you in awe - and you unknowingly tighten your pussy around him as he orgasms inside, joined to you hip-to-hip.

he's never felt such a deep seated pleasure in him before. he continues to gasp and shudder with every stringy spurt that he knows is reaching your womb. what if he actually knocks you up? what if his seed takes? it's a scary but thrilling thought. the thought of you swollen with his baby... all rational thinking has been thrown out the window due to this pleasure.

sounds that you never could've imagined coming out of sukuna continue to spill from his lips... he slides his cock in and out and squeezes every last drop out of himself, and he suddenly brings his lips to yours, kissing you feverishly. both of you pant over each other while making out messily as he slowly begins to thrust into you over and over again. he's going to get addicted to this. he's going to crave your pussy everyday from now on.

sukuna sucks on your tongue like he wants to swallow it. your arms hold onto him for dear life.

all too suddenly, he brings you off the locker, arms hooked under your legs and palms supporting you by holding onto your ass cheeks.

the kiss breaks, and catch sight of sukuna's lust-filled eyes as he moves you up and down his cock using his monster-like strength. and you're held up by him like this, you can't do anything to stop him. just cling onto him and take what he gives you.

"f-fuck, sukuna... ooh-! t-too deep," you mumble with tears in your eyes, gasping from the way his tip kisses your womb effortlessly. he's seriously too big for his own good.

"keep saying my name like that- it'll only make my dick harder," he pants, continuing to use your pussy like a fleshlight. his thick load has made it even wetter. he can feel your slick beginning to cream up around the base of his cock now, and it makes his chest well up with something like pride. does he turn you on that good? this hole of yours refuses to run out of lube.

the absurdly obscene plap plap plap sound of flesh against flesh, makes for the lewdest echo in the locker room. that, paired with the mild darkness, and the possibility of being seen by someone coming in during after-school hours, makes for the perfect thrilling atmosphere for such feral sex.

it's driving you mad. the echoing, the subtle anxiety, the smell of his sweat.

it's marvelous...

another orgasm hits you like a bullet train. gasping, you whimper as he continues fucking you through it this time, relentlessly thrusting into you regardless of your pulsing walls.

"shit... your cunt's clinging to me," sukuna groans, feeling blessed to see you get undone by him, by his cock. the fingertips of his large hands against your ass sink deeper, the pleasurable knot in his stomach getting tighter once again.

"you and your uselessly big dick... fuck you," you chide breathlessly, doing your best to keep your sentences clear even as he plunges into you with an unforgiving pace.

"clearly not useless when it's made you cum twice now, right?"

"shut up-"

you get cut off when he begins to thrust faster, as you witness the very moment sukuna's eyes become blank with pleasure, getting ready to empty his balls again.

"slutty fuckin' cunt. latching onto me so greedily... can't stop- thrusting-" he mumbles, gripping onto your ass tighter.

you can't help but sigh with pleasure when he begins to fill you up again, twitching and pulsing like crazy inside you as he spills so much seed like he's peeing.

"ohh, shit... cumming s-so hard..." he breathes out shakily.

you're starting to feel full. but you get the feeling that this still isn't the last one. desperate kisses are pressed against the side of your neck as he takes some time to relax a little again, thoroughly finishing deep into you, hips jolting every now and then.

he carries you over to the bench in the middle of the room, where he lies you down and brings your knees closer to your chest, fully exposing your cunt to him, whole. his dick still squeezed into you.

with a hoarse shaky groan, he slowly drags his thick cock in and out of you in this position, with only the heavens knowing how he is still hard after so many orgasms.

you give a small yelp as he speeds up - your plush walls embracing him warmly and filling up his balls once more. god, he doesn't think he'll ever have enough of this pussy. of you.

"idiot! e-enough.. take it out... i'll get- pregnant-" you warn him not-so-convincingly, with gasping moans between each word.

"c-can't... you're... sucking me in so good... can't stop-" sukuna replies with no thoughts in his brain other than to relieve the throb in his erection again. it's driving him up a wall, too. the flesh of your ass that softens the impact everytime he drives his hips into you. your squeals and whines of euphoria. your exposed breasts and glistening clit. he burns every detail into his brain, to make sure he remembers forever...

he doesn't even know what number round this is, but it amazes even him how he feels like he's already edging close to another climax. it's pathetic and ridiculous of him. but he can't help the fact that you push him over so easily.

the number of tissues he'd run through just from jerking off every time he thought about you all night... you have no clue.

recalling those moments makes him feel even more determined to chase this final orgasm even more rigorously. it won't be difficult, not with how your cunt swallows him up so nice.

"fuck.... i- i like you. i've always liked you..." sukuna mumbles out the sudden confession slowly.

"stupid... bastard... you say this now...?" you say as you sigh in pleasure, almost being close to your own climax as well, this position setting off yet another deep arousal in you. after all that bickering and tormenting - he has the audacity to confess to you? only after cumming inside multiple times?

"can't give any excuses can i?" he voices with a curt laugh - finding himself to be pitiful in this moment as well.

"but it's true... i- fuck- i like you so much..." he groans, hips getting faster.

your eyes begin to blur with tears again... sukuna thumbs your clit gently... and then you arch your back with a gasping squeal. sukuna too, hisses as he pumps you full for a final time, letting his dick drain itself in your fluttering hole, hips and thighs jerking uncontrollably while his tip leaks spurt after spurt through your cervix, overflowing you to the maximum.

after dumping his final load, he slowly drags his large, twitching cock out of you with a pop and lets it rest against your gaping cunt, pulsing weakly against your clit. his thumb pushes your panty lining aside to keep your pussy exposed for him to see. your hole is still gaping and thrumming, as if missing him already and he's watching with awe as big globs of his spend trickle out of you thickly. if he wasn't so exhausted, the sight of this would've made him hard again.

sukuna lets go of you and lets your legs rest on the bench, as you're still panting from the exertion, mind numb from that last orgasm. he seems to loom over you for a second, before leaning down, arms caging you against the bench, knee between your legs, to kiss you on your glossy lips. it feels good, but you wouldn't want to admit that out loud to him.

"i like you." he repeats again, after breaking away from you. he wonders why it had taken him so long to admit this fact. once he got it out, it became an easy thing to say. you look at his face and he looks so pathetic in your eyes, the usual look of cockiness and mischief being wiped away. he says it as if he's pleading you, and you know what he's asking for, what he's unable to say out loud. he probably wants to be your boyfriend.

it's strange to see the puppy eyes of your literal arch nemesis, and it's also strange to hear his voice give you a love confession. it makes you mad. it makes you angry. not because you hate it, but because you don't hate it.

he sees it. he sees the instant your eyes glint with anger, and he very swiftly dodges the head butt you try to give him at the very last second.

"move, idiot," you say sharply, glaring at him.

alright, he probably deserved that one.

you stand up and fix your bra and blouse before gathering your things from the locker before leaving without another word - sukuna follows you outside in a fit of mild anxiousness.

"hey-"

"you. take responsibility and buy me some plan b pills. and a pregnancy test kit," you interrupt, looking back at him.

"...alright," he responds rather obediently, after a nervous swallow.

after you turn back around to continue walking, the tiniest smile grows on your face... sukuna looking nervous is something you never thought you'd see. maybe you can use this to your advantage.

your phone vibrates in your hand. it's from your new 'boyfriend'. a sweet message saying he's excited to see you again tomorrow. you delete the notification with a little bit of guilt on your mind. you'll leave tomorrow's issues for tomorrow.

in front of the chemist, you languidly stand around outside waiting as sukuna does as you'd asked him. truth be told, it was because you didn't want to buy them yourself, out of embarrassment. you know he doesn't care about how people sees him, so no harm done there.

when he comes back out with the bag, he holds it out to hand it over to you. but when you try to grab it, he lifts it away.

"you're gonna break up with him, right?" he suddenly asks, with a rather serious expression on his face.

you ignore the question and try to grab the bag, but he avoids you again.

"...right?" he emphasises. he doesn't intimidate you at all anymore, not after knowing about his feelings for you.

"it's none of your business?" you tell him, finally snatching the bag. he doesn't look too pleased about that answer. you take the pills quietly and shove the rest into your bag.

"okay. now go home," you shoo at him. "i'm tired."

"you haven't answered me yet," he says firmly, holding onto your wrist.

"you'll have your answer tomorrow," you reply in an exasperated tone, shaking off his grip.

"and just letting you know. if it turns out positive, i'm never speaking to you again," you warn him with a deadpan face. in the back of your mind, you're pretty anxious about it, but you know according to your cycle, today wasn't a fertile day. that, and with the pill... it should be alright.

sukuna stiffens up and opens his mouth to say something, but shuts it again.

"and don't follow me. if you do, i'll also never speak to you again."

you're not that serious about not talking to him ever again, but you believe he deserves to feel as anxious as you do.

"... i wasn't planning on stalking you anyway. jesus," sukuna mutters, kicking at the dirt on the ground.

you narrow your eyes at him, and then continue your way home.

he scratches the back of his head in frustration. it's like he's skipped a lot of steps towards you and it's coming back to bite him in the ass. ah, well. nothing he can do about it now.

sukuna starts praying that the test comes out as negative.

-

in the end, you decided to become the asshole and just break up with the guy over text. what was there to even really 'break up' anyway? it was for less than a day...

regardless, the news seems to run across the entire school and your friends begin to pester you about why. you can't tell them the truth. what could you even say? 'oh, i got railed good by the one guy i despised in school and it made me end up changing my mind'? fuck that.

he walks towards you after school with seemingly high spirits.

"so... i heard you broke it off after all," he approaches you after hearing the good news. you'd been ignoring him all day, but he's hoping you'll stop once the day was over and there was no one else around to watch them.

you continue to give him the silent treatment, walking along without sparing him a glance.

"hey," he grabs your forearm to stop you from walking.

"stop ignoring me. please."

you only spare him a glance because he added 'please'.

"...i don't see how that changes anything between us," you finally respond.

"right. surely not," he responds, voice thick with sarcasm.

"is that the correct attitude you should be taking? i broke up with him because i felt bad i fucked someone else while we were together. not because i like you back," you shoot at him, crossing your arms.

"oh, give me a break. you were barely with him for one day-"

"sukuna. do you want me to like you back?"

sukuna falls silent, looking at you with annoyance yet also simultaneous desire.

"if you want me to like you... then you need to work for it. make up for all the mean things you've said and done to me."

"...how? what should i do?" he asks, daringly, stepping forward towards you.

you wordlessly take your bag and shove it against his chest with an aloof expression on your features. it startles him for a moment, but looking at your face, he understands what you're asking of him. he slowly smirks and slings your bag over his shoulder, on top of his own.

"easy. anything else?"

"...i'm kinda hungry. take me somewhere good to eat. you pay."

"so... a date?" sukuna hums teasingly, trying to hold your hand.

"nope. you're gonna act as my lackey for a few weeks. it's payback. after that... well, we'll see," you say as you dodge his hand.

he can't wipe the smile off his face. you're clearly playing around with him, but he doesn't hate it. it's another form of attention, is it not? he'll have plenty of chances to make you his from now.

little does he know... he's the one that will become yours in the end.

you know the drill! dot points bc im lazy as fuck!!

okay well, first off the test does turn out negative, lucky for him... from then on you make him wear condoms whenever you have sex

but before that, he spends a few weeks running around to try and appease you

everybody shocked to see the big bad bully is being so obedient, and little do they know...

mmmaybe you give him little rewards every now and then, some sneaky kisses or so, just to keep him afloat... and then you withhold your body from him again

still carries your bag for you everywhere

has to deal with the frustration of not having boyfriend privileges yet... always itching to touch you but you wont allow it until you think he deserves it

sitting between his legs but not letting him be handsy with you is torture. maybe he'll break the rules a bit and hug your waist anyway

love the thought of him borderline begging for your touch because he's so hard from spending so much time being so close with you and it's been well over three weeks since he's done anything remotely sexual with you

maybe you'll feel a little turned on by his pleading that you cave in a bit, and take him to the public restrooms for a few handjobs

he will take anything he can, the opportunist...

and you'll have plenty of fun edging and toying with sukuna until he's shaped nicely into being a good obedient boyfriend for you

bully sukuna trope was inspired and set alight by @gojos-thot-patrol btw, link to his fic here... mine took a completely different path but it was a similar concept in the end ✨️👌

Masterlist

[abrthephantomq]

:raises hand:

[tw: not a healthy relationship at ALL mentioned. our ex was the worst, basically, and divorce is why we're alive. and if we were to write a book about it and twist some details so we could claim that it was all fictional and that, y'know, any likeness to any real human being is "coincidental," well. This would be chapter one, probably.]

When we were 19, we got married to our high school sweetheart.

It wasn't the worst decision ever, but it was a pretty bad one. You see, our ex wasn't exactly.... the greatest.

We met freshman year at William Penn. Fourteen years old, 9th grade. We had Civics class together, first thing in the morning. Ex-husband sat behind us.

We noticed them right away. At that age, they were very deep in their emo-screamo stage. The swoopy hair. Jnco jeans. You know. That type of attire. We actually thought it was really cool but could "never find" anything in our size when we went to places like the Hot Topic at the mall.

[We weren't even big, back then. Like, a size 12-14? At 5'2-3 and always on the fairly muscled side of things? With wide hips? Tiny boobs? Like no, we were fucking adorable. We could've found clothes at the Hot Topic if we'd wanted to - we just couldn't afford to.

*snort* the hot topic... you're such an old man, uncle Jasper.

So our ex's actually fantastic taste in early 00 fashion sub-cultures aside, what exactly are you trying to imply here, Steven?]

Nothing, actually, damn. Chill out - I know that's how you would've dressed the body had we had the money at that age. When we were that size. Like, the size we were, not the size he --

(We understood, sweetheart <3)

Right.

Anyways, the point really was when we were in high school, the red flags were there. They were waived -

[You're spelling it with an "I" again, love.]

Yeah, sorry, I'm going to spell waive - wave - w a I v e like, until the end of time. that job broke the fingers, man. We talked about entering in waive fees so goddamned much that's the default way the brain goes to type it. -- but that's not the point.

Red flags. So many red flags. We had our future wife read our LJ entries from that time, years ago, at this point. She read them and was like damn, he was always terrible to you. Because he did shit like the silent treatment. My personal favorite is when he decided I hadn't come to his defense strong enough to his liking - and this was before we started dating - and he decided we were no longer friends and that he would never talk to me again.

And he did that the day before the day my mother went in to get a hysterectomy. Her uterus and ovaries were riddled with cancer. Stage 3 - now, I remember her saying it was ovarian. I've been saying ovarian since we were 15 years old.

Mom would later say it was uterine. Like a decade later, kind of later.

This man broke up with us at the beginning of senior year, too, by the way. Right around Christmas Break, actually. During Break we entered the Situationship Era - it was a whole thing. Before his 18th birthday, he shipped off to Parris Island.

A couple of months into bootcamp, he sends us a letter saying all sorts of things about how he prayed to God for an answer on what he should do etc, and apparently he wanted to get back together.

By the following Christmas, he asked us to marry him.

Not even 6 months later, in May of 2007, we got married. We were 19. He was 18.

He'd deploy for the first time less than a year later. When he got back, we bought a house and moved into it with our at-the-time best friend. He had plans to knock me up. He succeeded. We had to remain sober the day we turned 21, because we were positive we were pregnant, even if we couldn't prove that for like, another week. We just knew.

That child and I probably would not be alive today, if divorce weren't a thing. Because if we'd stayed together "for the sake of our kid," he would have for certain been responsible for my death, in one way shape or form, and who knows if he'd have been a safe parent for our kid without me being a lightning rod for his bullshit.

I don't mind being the fucking lightning rod. What I do mind is that even if all he ever does is hurt me, it still impacts my kid regardless. If I'm not doing well, that means I can't be the best parent I can be.

He doesn't understand that. Or should I say, he didn't understand that.

If only he had tried to.

i love divorce i love when people realize that they aren't a good fit for each other and get divorced about it. more people should get divorced

[seasprincess]

season1 fratboy!Rafe head cannons

mix of nsfw and sfw

MDNI ♡ྀིwarnings: he’s pervy, lots of sexual stuff, degrading, praise, probably more

frat boy!Rafe who would take you out on dates to places even if he hates them. He’s never really been for relationship but with you he just wants to impress you.

frat boy!Rafe who will buy you anything you ask for. He’s a sucker for you and the way you look up at him as you hold that new handbag you so desperately need. And his way of showing you love is gifts.

frat boy!Rafe who takes you golfing and can’t help but stare at your ass in that little skirt. When you bend over to take a shot his eyes are unapologetically staring. If he catches any of his friends even glancing he will have a little chat. Which does involve being thrown against a wall.

frat boy!Rafe who is actually a massive perv. No matter how sweet he can be there’s always that side to him that’s a horny guy. He just can’t help it.

frat boy!Rafe who has a folder in his photos filled with photos of you. Photos of your tits, videos of him fucking you and his favourite, photos of his cum on various parts of your body.

frat boy!Rafe who has a pair of your panties that he uses to jerk off on days he really misses you. Or days you send him photos that he would die before letting you send to anyone else. He is very protective of you. He may show his friends a slightly revealing photo to show you off but this man is never showing them a nude. That’s for him only.

frat boy!Rafe who is okay with being vocal in bed. The words that leave his mouth are unholy to say the least. ‘Taking my cock like a good girl.’ or ‘fuck, you’re such a good slut’ are common themes. He loves degrading you but equally loves praising you. Luckily you enjoy it to.

frat boy!Rafe who is horny like 24/7. He can’t help it. But you’re willing to help him when he needs you. Which is a lot. Quick blowjobs in the bathroom are common in your relationship.

frat boy!Rafe who cares about you more than sometimes he shows. He knows he’s not the best boyfriend. But he does try. Buying you flowers and teddies when you’ve argued. Which is usually his fault, not that he’s admit it.

frat boy!Rafe who acts like a completely different person when you’re alone cuddling. Your hands rubbing the back of his head will make up for the lack of comfort he had as a kid. He could lay there for hours. Not talking or doing anything. He’s just there.

frat boy!Rafe who taught you how to give blow jobs and other stuff. You’d never done it before and Rafe loved that. However he wasn’t as sexually smart as he thought. Yes he’d been with other woman but he prioritised his orgasm over theirs. So you told him what fault good and he got in the habit of asking ‘does that feel good?’ every time he worried he was worried he wasn’t doing good. He always wants to do a good job. Which is most definitely linked to his childhood.

frat boy!Rafe who cares about you more than he’ll ever admit. Someone says a bad word about you? They’re being beaten up. Someone try’s flirting with you? They’re being beaten up. He protects your sweet naive self who doesn’t notice all the bad guys.

frat boy!Rafe whose arm or hand is always on you. Physical touch is important for him. Once again linked to the lack of it in his childhood. His arm will be around your waist or hand on your thigh even if you’re just sitting. He’s making sure everyone knows you’re his.

frat boy!Rafe who gets frustrated and angry most of the time. But you, you always seem to calm him down and make sure he’s okay. Make sure he calms down. The amount of fights you’ve stopped might win you a record at this point.

frat boy!Rafe who loves you more than he’s loved anyone else. Even if he can’t show you fully.

[l0vergirlwrites]

hidden talents ; spencer reid

synopsis: during a cozy night in with spencer, you both reveal your hidden talents to one another.

warnings: established relationship with fem!reader, silly hidden talents, so much fluff i could die, kissing & sweet touches, season 6 spencer in mind lowkey

note: i wrote this while listening to ‘north’ by clairo!

another note: i promise i’m working on the requests in my asks box! just taking longer than normal (reminder that requests are open!)

it had been a particularly cold day for the east coast, the arctic mass of freezing air drifted all the way into the apartment in dc where spencer & you reside, freshly showered under warm streams of water, dressed in pyjamas under a few extra blankets for good measure.

nights like this were rare—uninterrupted moments shared with just him & you, his left hand caressing one of your thighs under the blankets while his right one held a special cover version of steinbeck’s east of eden in his lap.

you were busy drawing patterns into the fuzz of the top blanket, right cheek pressed into spencer’s left arm as you drew leaves, flowers, & swirly symbols, watching the blanket leave shiny remnants of your artwork. a tv show you had started binging played softly on the medium sized tv spencer mounted on the wall last month, but you were growing bored.

“do you have any hidden talents?” you randomly asked once you lowered the tv’s volume more, placing the remote back on the nightstand before turning to spencer.

he gave you a quirked brow under his glasses, sliding his bookmark to where he left off before shutting the hardcover. “i don’t know. does having three phd’s & an affinity for magic tricks count?”

with a shake of your head & a chuckle, your right hand propped your head up on the pillows, free hand rubbing spencer’s bicep in a cruelly sweet way.

“people—including me—already know those things, silly” you pointed out, gasping when he squeezed your thigh in a funny spot. it didn’t hurt, just made you smile wider.

“c��mon, there has to be something you’ve kept hidden under your sleeve” you pleaded, tummy turning when spencer looked at you with those puppy dog eyes of his.

you were swooning hard.

but he’d argue that he was swooning harder.

“let me think…” he pouted his lips in thought, genuinely wracking his brain for something to appease you.

“i can talk with my mouth closed” he blurted, turning back to you & seeing your intrigued gaze.

“like jessie j?”.

“yes, like jessie j”.

“show me!” you demanded with excitement, sitting up a little straighter for the big reveal.

closing his mouth, you watched spencer say a few sentences with his mouth completely closed, his lips shut tight like they were glued together. the face he was making was silly & cute, & you were genuinely shocked at how clear you could hear him talking.

clapping lightly with delight, you scooted closer to him (as if you weren’t already tucked into his side like a magnet), cheering him on for his cool talent.

“how have you kept this hidden from me for five years? five whole years?!” you teased, seeing the effect you had on him live when his neck & cheeks grew pink & hot.

ducking his head, spencer shrugged. “it never came up”.

“you’re forgiven” you kissed spencer’s cheek, kissing it again when he leaned closer for another. you’d give him all the kisses in the world anyways.

“so, what about you? what’s your hidden talent?” he squeezed your thigh again, ready for you to reciprocate with something exciting.

“i can make a trumpet sound with my mouth”.

“really?”.

“you don’t believe me?” you faked surprised hurt.

“i’ll believe it when i see it, sweetheart” he teased, his chest tightening when you scrunched your nose a little with a smile.

that action always made him swoon somehow.

“okay, okay,” you rubbed his bicep again, preparing yourself. “but don’t look at me at first, or else i’ll start laughing & ruin it. please”.

at least you were polite.

with eyes closed, spencer patiently waited, & when he heard the trumpet like sound come from your lips, his eyes automatically opened in intrigue. because how did it sound at least sixty-percent like the real thing?

you proudly trumpeted the tune of ella fitzgerald’s song ‘at last’, some notes were off key but the heart was there. & spencer was amazed.

“that sure beats my talent by a long shot” he clapped too, laughing when you cupped your hurting cheeks. smiling too much hurt in the best way.

“you should do that at parties sometime” he teased lovingly, pulling you to his chest so he could feel your laugh vibrate through his skin.

lifting your head back up after a moment, feeling his hand drift through your hair, you played squinted. “you think you’re so funny, spence…”.

the look in his eyes was all gentle, the lamp light beside him casting a little honey glow to them. “you’ve always said you loved my jokes”.

you sighed, letting your face fall back to the cotton pyjama shirt he wore, unable to hide the fuzziness growing inside you. “i do”.

his looks were killer, sending your body into a frenzy of love & jittery emotions—the good type of jittery.

“are you too tired to read me some steinbeck?” you asked after a moment of content silence, his hands musing your hair while one of yours drew patterns onto the crook of his neck.

“never” he replied happily, letting yourself get comfortable on his chest before reaching for the book on the nightstand.

“wait”.

before spencer could grab it, your lips meshed with his, eyes shutting immediately as his hands cupped your cheeks, falling down the hedge maze of your touch before pulling away, his lips pressing two kisses on each cheek good measure.

“i’m never gonna get tired of that” you murmured as you got comfortable again, lips tingling from mingling with his. you’ve kissed spencer millions of times by now, but every kiss feels like the first—addictively sweet.

spencer clearly felt the same, because he couldn’t help but peck a few kisses to your forehead before opening the book to pick up where he left off.

his murmur of “me either” confirmed it too.

[demolitionsweetheart]

Smut headcanons

Shadow the hedgehog x fem!reader

(Can be mobian or human!)

NSFW! MDNI

๑ His ears are very sensitive. It's very obvious and easy for you to pick up on what it does to him. Much to his embarrassment, gently blowing on his ear or sweetly teasing him in smooth tone gets him going hard and fast-literally.

๑ His sex drive is generally low. For the most part, sex has it's place, but when he's riled up, he won't find contentment until he's taken you through rounds and rounds.

๑ Shadow views it a lot more like bonding. He loves it for the closeness.. for the commitment..for you. His desire is far beyond only lust.

๑ He'll never pull out, he loves stuffing you till he physically can't. Loves the firm reminder you're completely his and he's yours. As if that wasn't already clear by how many times he's sunk his teeth into your neck, sternum, and thighs. He can't help it, he bites when he finishes, when he teases you before going down on you, when your scent provokes him into sinking his teeth into your neck(a majority of the time), or when nuzzling you just isn't doing it for him. He's always sweet about it though, his tongue always flips out to lap at and sooth the reddened area. He apologizes when he's left them in less private areas.. Even if he's really not.

๑ Saying shadow loves going down on you is an understatement. He loves shoving his muzzle in between your legs, digging his tongue as deep as he can into your tight heat as his nose repeatedly hits your sensitive clit. He loves it when you grip his quills and fur like a lifeline, when your thighs strain again his hands to close around his head, your taste, and your pretty sounds. The action is for your pleasure but, he's definitely enjoying it more.

๑ he doesn't care for positions where you're facing away from him. He sticks to basic and instinctive positions like missionary and mating press however, he will oblige if you wish to (physically)be on top, riding him.. Though he's still in control regardless. He isn't one for quickies, but if push ever came to shove he'll either have you in full nelson or pinned against the wall. He loves being and control but he's never a meanie.

๑ As mentioned,  it has a lot less to do with lust. His desires stem less from lust and more from love.. The need to make you feelgood before seeking out his own pleasures. He constantly checks in, asking if he's making you feel good or if he's hurt you. Occasionally, he'll nuzzle his muzzle right into your neck or rub his cheek against your sternum. An instinct, he cannot suppress as he drives himself fast and hard into you, silencing his groans with biting and nuzzling.

๑ He'd be great with aftercare if he didn't just want to stay cuddled up with you until you both drifted off. He collapses on to your chest, your fingers slipping in to his soft fur, as his hand finds the back of your thigh, gripping and rubbing as you stroke his quills. Entirely content. His eyes grow heavy with sleep. He's so in love. You never have to doubt he isn't head over heels for your even so far into your relationship.

Thank you for reading and thank you anon who requested this! I had so much fun writing it.

Requests are open!

Pictures are from Pinterest

Dividers by @shadow-raven22

[iwilltrytobereasonable]

Honestly, I feel like watching my siblings get frustrated at their children’s tech use is similar - my sister recently said she felt the internet had “stolen her children” and that jealousy feels like the core of it.

The people I know who have the healthiest relationship with their families’ tech use are the ones who use it WITH their family. Not as a way to shut people off, not leaving them alone, but as a way to bond.

My sisters don’t want to play video games so their children play them alone. They get bored with kids programming so their children watch TV alone. They tried all the advice regarding time limits and parental controls, and the result was kids trying to steal extra time and get around the blocks. It made their children into spies and liars.

I wish they had tried something more like Sweden’s Saturday candy tradition - you indulge all you want on Saturday but no other day - but I also wish they had participated in the screen use, for the kids to pick up and mirror good attitudes.

But then again, my sisters are just old enough that they are not tech natives themselves.

phenomenom thats been bothering me that i could only express via an mspaint reverse boomer comic

[cutielando]

she's all i wanna be | lando norris

synopsis: in which you can't help how you feel

a/n: based on this request!

my masterlist

The faint sound of music played through the speakers of the swanky Monaco lounge, but it was muffled under the chatter of the crowd.

You sat at a high-top table, your fingers nervously tracing the rim of your glass.

Lando was late - again.

It wasn’t anything unusual; his schedule was always chaotic, packed with team obligations, sim training and even more media appearances.

But tonight, everything felt heavier.

Like an unspoken weight hung between the two of you.

The door opened, and your gaze automatically shifted. There he was, stepping in with his usual boyish charm, a grin on his face as he greeted someone at the entrance.

Your heart skipped a beat, as it always did whenever you saw him, but the grin faltered as your eyes caught sight of her.

Tall, blonde, and effortlessly radiant, she walked in beside him, laughing at something he had said.

And then, your mind started going into overdrive. She was everything you weren’t. Perfectly polished, wearing an outfit that clung to her like it had been made for her and her alone.

You looked down at your simple dress, suddenly feeling underdressed and feeling like a shadow in her presence.

Lando’s eyes scanned the room until they found yours, his smile widening at the sight of you.

He made his way over to you, but then she followed him, and the knot in your stomach tightened even more.

“Hey, love” he greeted you, leaning down to kiss your lips quickly.

His warmth was comforting, but the scent of her expensive perfume lingered in the air, blinding you and your happiness to see your boyfriend.

“Hi” you replied, forcing a smile as your eyes flickered to her.

“Oh, right. This is Isabelle. She’s new to our PR team” he said, seemingly oblivious to your very obvious unease in her presence.

“Hi” Isabelle said, her voice smooth and confident.

She extended a perfectly manicured hand, which you shook, instantly feeling the unspoken comparison between the two of you, at least in your head.

“Nice to meet you” you managed, though your words felt very hollow on your lips.

The evening dragged on, but Isabelle didn’t leave.

She stayed, chatting animatedly with your boyfriend, laughing loudly at his jokes, and leaning in just a little too close for your comfort.

You tried to join the conversation from time to time, but it felt like you were an outsider in your own relationship in those moments.

Every time Isabelle laughed, a little louder or a little brighter than the previous time, it chipped away at your confidence.

By the time the night had finally ended, Lando drove the two of you home, the car filled with a very tense silence.

“You’ve been quiet tonight” Lando said, glancing at you.

You shrugged, looking out the window and avoiding his gaze as best as you could.

“Just tired” you said, your voice small and distant.

“Are you sure? You seemed a little… off” he pressed.

“Surprised you had time to notice all of that” you blurted out before you could stop yourself, mentally kicking yourself.

Lando turned his head around as he stopped at a red light, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What?” he asked, his tone a little defensive, but still calm.

“It’s hard to feel ‘fine’ when Isabelle’s around” you said, looking down at your hands in your lap.

Lando frowned, confusion etching even deeper on his face.

“What’s that supposed to mean, love?” he asked, his eyes falling once again on the road in front of you.

“It means she’s everything I’m not, Lando. Gorgeous, confident, basically perfect from every aspect. It’s hard not to feel like I’m competing with her, even if I know I’m not supposed to be” you explained further on.

Lando sighed, pulling the car to a stop outside of your apartment, turning around to face you.

“Y/N, where is this coming from? You know you don’t have to compete with anyone. You’re everything to me” he said.

You shook your head, your bottom lip trembling as you tried not to burst out crying on the spot.

“Am I, though? Because tonight it felt like I was just there while you and Isabelle were having the time of your lives, just the two of you. You basically ignored me the entire night, Lando” you said, even your voice trembling.

Lando sighed, running a hand through his curls.

“I’m sorry if it came across that way. But you have to know that she’s just a colleague, nothing more. She doesn’t mean anything to me” he explained.

“It’s not about what she means to you, Lando. It’s about how I feel when I’m around her, like I’ll never measure up” you said, your voice cracking mid sentence.

Lando reached for your hand, his touch warm and reassuring.

“You’re more than enough for me, Y/N. Isabelle could never be you. No one could, ever. I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise, I’m an idiot for that”

You looked at him, seeing that his eyes were filled with nothing but sincerity.

It was really hard to stay mad at Lando, especially when he looked at you with those puppy eyes of his.

But the insecurity still lingered in your chest, like a shadow that won’t be so easily dispelled.

“Just, please don’t forget me, okay?” you whispered, your tone vulnerable.

“I couldn’t even if I tried, love” he said softly, leaning in to press a soft and loving kiss to your forehead.

As you stepped out of the car and walked into your apartment, you knew the conversation was far from being over.

But for now, it was enough to know that Lando saw you. truly saw you, even in those moments when you could hardly see yourself.

At least he did.

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[roguishcat]

Fangs and Cheeks

Summary: Astarion is an ass man.

Excerpt:

“I don’t expect any physical intimacy. I love what we have. I love you,” you said truthfully. “But um… You being lost in the moment, being so feral about it… It felt nice.”

“My rutting against your ass like a hormonal hound would with a bitch in heat? I’m sure it was a magical moment,” he quipped sarcastically.

Word count: 4.3k

Rating: Exlicit (MNDI)

Tags: Dry humping, PinV sex, orgasm denial, Reader being a bit of a brat, brat taming (if you squint), Reader having a danger kink, Reader denying that she has a danger kink, oral (female receiving), soft dom Astarion, smut and fluff, Astarion is loved, smug Astarion

A/N: Please tell me if you notice typos and mistakes. ❤️ Constructive criticism is appreciated. Comments are always loved! ❤️

(dividers by @saradika)

Once you and Astarion were in what you would call a ‘proper relationship’, you quickly discovered that he was a very tactile person. Astarion hated being touched out of the blue, grimacing and stiffening if anyone got too near for his liking. Yet, he was rather partial to keeping his hands on you. He was especially fond of your derrière, making sure that it received plenty of attention from him.

In hindsight, it's been this way ever since you first slept together. An occasional brush here and there. His hand on the small of your back moving further south than was necessary. The little squeeze that could be nothing but your imagination. Just you being hopeful and wanting your feelings to be reciprocated. Because you were under no illusion that your romp was nothing but that.

Astarion was gorgeous, ethereal, and intoxicating. All sharp lines and velvety words. Words which time and time again affected you in a way that you'd not thought possible until you met him.

And you? As much as you wanted there to be more to your trysts, you were painfully aware of the fact that you were conveniently there at a time when he felt like blowing off some steam. 

Yet, as you fought your way through the Shadow-Cursed Lands, shared victories and supported each other through the horrors that awaited around every corner, you felt a change. Like something between you shifted just enough for Astarion to start looking at you in a way that had your heart fluttering like a caged bird.

His touches became softer. He lingered. Held you closer, spent more time with you than necessary. Instead of drinking from you when you were asleep, Astarion would find an excuse to be in your tent whilst you were still awake, as if wanting to hear you ask again and again if he was in the mood for a nibble.

Astarion started sharing more of himself with you, telling you of what he had been through over the past two centuries. And you realised that perhaps to Astarion you being there for him, standing up for him, seeing him as a person, was novel and very welcome.

When Astarion confessed, nervously telling you of his deception, his guilty conscience not allowing him to take advantage of your affection for him any longer, you assured him that being with him was enough.

More than enough.

With you agreeing to abstain until he felt ready to resume the sexual part of your relationship, Astarion seemed to come to enjoy just being with you, exploring intimacy that other forms of touch brought.

You felt giddy every time you asked for a kiss and Astarion agreed most enthusiastically. Kissing you deeply, both his hands squeezing your butt tightly, kneading the soft flesh in a way that had you both moaning into the kiss.

Lae’zel would roll her eyes and march past you with a huff, muttering something unsavoury under her breath about istiks and their peculiar mating rituals. Her words would go completely ignored.

Shadowheart would smirk and pretend to be annoyed, remarking that if they were to be subjected to seeing you be all over each other, at least some change in repertoire would be nice.

Gale would suggest that for the sake of the others he would be more than happy to teach you to cast Silence.

You were not really sure why everyone assumed that you and Astarion were doing more than share each other’s space. It never went past kissing. And perhaps a little under the shirt action. Just as you agreed, you gave Astarion space and time to figure out what he was comfortable with. The two of you would hold hands, cuddle up to each other, share heated looks and sweetest kisses that made your toes curl. And without fail Astarion’s hands would eventually be touching, patting, squeezing, playfully slapping, or pinching your ass.

So, it really was not that much of a surprise when you woke up one fine morning with Astarion rutting against your clothed backside. Now, whilst you had no issue with your vampire enjoying himself, having explicitly stated to him on several occasions that you were game for whatever he would come up with, you were not entirely sure what to do now.

Should you just stay still? Judging by how his pace was picking up and the way his gentle grunts were becoming more audible by the second, Astarion would be done soon. He was clearly so lost in the moment and eager to chase his release that he didn’t even pick up on the change in your heartbeat.

Most of the time you slept like a log. It would take wildebeest stampeding past your tent for you to stir. Which is probably why Astarion, having made plenty of quips and jokes about your almost impressive ability to fall asleep in any place as soon as your head touched the bedroll, was not being particularly careful about being quiet.

Yes, staying still was probably best. If you were entirely honest, Astarion wanting you so desperately was doing wonders for your confidence. And the moans and muffled grunts, his cool fingers on your hips, soft curls tickling the back of your neck, got you hot and bothered in seconds. You two weren’t intimate in... a while. And whilst this was not exactly how you thought you would next be intimate, you'd take it.

And then you felt your nose itch. What started as a just little itch that had you scrunching you nose in annoyance was becoming worse by the second. Oh, hells! You were going to sneeze!

You tried to turn your head ever so discreetly to the side and rub your nose against the bedroll. Surprisingly enough, even you moving got absolutely zero reaction from Astarion. And this would be the end of your predicament if you were anyone but the unluckiest woman in all the realms.

Your violent sneeze was like a clap of thunder on a still night.

As you blinked your watery, bleary eyes, you realised that Astarion stopped, the fingers gripping your hips no longer there. You gulped, not really sure what to do now that it was abundantly clear to the both of you that you were very awake and very aware of what was happening moments ago.

“Do you want to tal-”

“I’d rather not,” he interjected quickly, and you felt him moving away from you.

Panicking, you grabbed onto his sleeve, making him still.

“Are you really so adamant on prolonging this unbearable moment?” Astarion asked tersely, making you wince. Yet your fingers did not lose their vice-like grip on the fabric.

“Or do you want to tell me all about what you think of my disgusting, despicable behaviour?”

“I- I don’t think it was disgusting,” you cleared your throat, a blush blooming on your skin. “Not even a little.”

“I was kind of… into it,” you admitted with some reluctance. Because what kind of person did that make you? A very sexually frustrated one, that’s for sure and certain.

“Oh?” you heard the lilt in his voice as he lowered himself back onto the bedroll, settling beside you but not quite close enough for him to touch your back. Realising that you were still holding onto his sleeve, you let go, his arm moving out of your line of sight as soon as your fingers were no longer holding on.

“Why?”

The question caught you off-guard. You didn’t really want to tell him the truth. How embarrassing to admit that you would jump through hoops for his attention, even after him telling you explicitly that you were ‘well and truly taken’.

“Do I have to answer that?”

“No. But I would prefer it if you did, my sweet.”

The endearment made you relax a little. Picking up on it, Astarion drew your body closer, one hand settling back on your hip. You shivered as you felt that he was hard still.

Reigning in your raging libido, you reminded yourself that you were not to jump his bones and were to remain a perfectly well-functioning adult about this. You’d tell Astarion what you felt without giving yourself away so much that he’d feel pressured into anything.

“I don’t expect any physical intimacy. I love what we have. I love you,” you said truthfully. “But um… You being lost in the moment, being so feral about it… It felt nice.”

“My rutting against your ass like a hormonal hound would with a bitch in heat? I’m sure it was a magical moment,” he quipped sarcastically.

“Oh, you don’t have to make it sound that hot,” you laughed and put your hand on top of his cool fingers, running your fingers along his knuckles in soothing, comforting strokes.

“What I mean, it felt good to be desired, wanted by you.”

Your awkward confession and gentle touch got him to relax a little, you could feel it when he put his chin on your shoulder. You could also feel something else that you would very much wanted to press into. On top of. Around. You were not picky.

But you stayed very still. And that was pure, sweet torture.

“Make no mistake, I want you constantly.” Astarion’s cool breath tickled your skin and set it ablaze. “If it were up to me, there would be far less adventuring and helping out those pesky refugees, and far more time spent feverishly enjoying each other.”

He sighed and kissed your exposed shoulder. You grasped onto whatever restraint you had and pressed your lips together.

“But it seems that it is not up to me,” he went on. “So, when my trance was interrupted by you moaning my name in your sleep, I felt a stir. And I just- just went for it. I don’t know what I was thinking. I doubt that I was thinking at all. Not with you making those delicious sounds and you being so close. I apologise.”

“Astarion. I love you. And I did tell you on more than one occasion that I’d be happy to try anything. Consider this as us trying something new.”

“What happens now?” Astarion murmured.

“What do you want to happen?”

You didn’t get a reply. Licking your lips, you decided that perhaps a gentle suggestion would not hurt. Astarion knew that he could say no. That you would never hold it against him.

“If you like, we can pick up where you left off.”

“Meaning?”

Well, it definitely wasn’t a ‘no’. There was a distinct huskiness to his voice that made you feel that perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing to tell him exactly what you thought.

“I think that you should finish what you started.”

“Tsk, naughty. Who knew that you would be into something like that?”

“Who knew that you were so into my ass?”

He snorted and muttered something that sounded like ‘not yet’.

“Dearest, have you seen how leather lovingly cradles it? Nothing is left to the imagination. I can scarcely tear my eyes away long enough to fight whatever horror is sent after us!”

He was moving again and you bit your lip to stifle your moan, wondering if you could angle your body to get friction where you most needed it.

Astarion noticed. Of course he did.

With a breathy chuckle, you felt his fingers move fabric aside, sliding into your underwear.

“Allow me,” he grunted into your ear.

“Such a gentleman,” you sighed, spreading yourself a little wider to give him more to work with.

“Of course! How callous would it be to leave a lady… wanting,” he punctuated the last word with a thrust of his hips. “Although, one cannot help but wonder, what were you dreaming about that had you moaning my name, hm?”

“What was I doing to you, dearest?” Astarion asked and moved his clothed erection against the swell of your ass, his fingers circling your clit with light, unhurried movements. You bit your lip harder, not wanting to alert the whole camp to what was going on. Astarion adored the blush that overwhelmed your skin.

“Oh? Don't feel like talking right now? How about I guess. Let me see… was I gentle? Did I whisper sweet nothings into your ear as I took you slowly?” Astarion teased, lifting himself a little off the bedroll so he could see your face better.

Hm. No change in your heartbeat, no spike in arousal. Clearly, that wasn’t it.

“No,” you confirmed his suspicions, “you were not.”

“Naughty,” he clicked his tongue and gave a pleased chuckle. "How absolutely delightful.”

Astarion’s thrusts took on a different rhythm to match the increasing speed of his fingers working you.

“So, I was rough, wasn’t I?” He pressed a fang against the hot skin of your neck, biting down on sensitive flesh without breaking skin.

“Yes,” you squirmed and pushed back, making his eyes slam shut. You shivered as a strained groan tore itself from his lips.

"Fuck," he hissed, releasing your neck to put his lips on a pulse point.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Must have slipped," you said grinding yourself against the bulge beneath the leather. Because you were past the point of reasoning and definitely way past having any restraint. Astarion spoke of not wanting to be treated like he was made of porcelain. Perhaps pushing back just a little would be exactly the right way to show that you weren’t walking on eggshells around him.

Astarion’s ruby eyes narrowed dangerously, yet a smile curled his lips.

"Do you really think you can play me so easily?"

"Oh, no. I would never!" Your gasp was so theatrical it made him bark a delighted laugh.

"Ha! Trying to outplay me, dearest? Well, it is not going to be that simple.” Astarion purred and tilted your head, so you'd look him in the eyes. The expression on his face was as arrogant as it was tantalisingly attractive.  “I am always the one in charge when it comes to playtime, you'd do well to remember that, my sweet."

He nipped your shoulder blade, humming in satisfaction at the shiver this elicited.

"If I recall correctly, you were in the middle of telling me your dream."

Ah, yes. You did remember that he wanted you to talk. Talk whilst he was overwhelming you with sensations, his nearness, his scent, just his everything. Sure. You could probably manage to string some words together.

“You were rough.”

“We’ve already established that.”

 And perhaps to another, more merciful being, that would be enough to let you off the hook. Astarion was hardly known for being merciful.

His fingers slowed down, making you thrust your hips forward. Astarion clicked his tongue and nipped the exposed skin of your shoulder, “Go on, dearest.” 

“It was after a battle, you were still in your armour.”

“I’m glad that I am such a consummate lover I needn’t even strip.”

“Sex dreams don’t have to make sense, alright?”

“No, dear,” he chuckled. “I’m so very sorry, do continue.”

“There isn’t that much more to it. I woke up before we actually… well. But um-”

Oh, you might just as well go for it. Astarion knew full well that he was intoxicatingly handsome. What he didn’t know was when exactly you found him most attractive.

"I- I enjoy seeing you fight."

“Would that be a dander kink, per chance? Do you want me to take you in the middle of a battlefield? Or should I feel worried over your throwing looks at others, hm?”

"No, it’s you. Every move so precise and purposeful. Your muscles straining, metal singing against metal. You are beautiful, and sensual, and confident, and powerful."

“Go on,” he whispered with a quietness that was at odds with the possessive way he griped you. You felt Astarion grind against you. Slowly, indulgently. The hand not working you moving from your hip to your ass to give it a tight squeeze that would definitely leave a mark.

"I see you and I marvel at your tenacity, the stubborn set of your jaw as you refuse to give in. Your curls tainted red, your eyes set on your target as you strike with cruel precision."

“My, my, who knew you were harbouring such fantasies. Such deviousness under that sweet façade. Only you could care for such a monstrosity.”

“No,” you cut him off sharply. “You are not a monster.”

You licked your lips as you thought of how to make him understand.

“You are many things. My friend, my confidant, my lover, my protector. I’ve never had that before you. I trust you. And that-,” you whimpered, eyelashes fluttering, a tear rolling down a heated cheek.

“Yes?”

“And that makes me want you even more,” you admitted as you saw stars, Astarion’s fingers not breaking their rhythm, sending a wave after wave of pleasure rippling though your body. Finally, his hand stilled.

You panted, turning your head enough to the side to rest your cheek against his cool one. Closing your eyes, you let your body sag against his.

“I take it you enjoy dangerous things, darling?” Astarion whispered into your hair.

“Most pretty things are,” you forced out between breaths. “And you are the prettiest, handsomest rogue I’ve ever seen.”

"Love?" Astarion shifted and moved, and you felt his fangs graze the sensitive flesh of your neck.

"Yes."

Please.

He bit down to take long, greedy gulps, both his hands clutching you to his chest. Having been told that he could taste how you felt made you wonder, what secrets was your blood revealing? What sensations he drew into his own body from yours with every gulp?

"Clothes off. Now.” Astarion ripped himself away from you, not wanting to overindulge and leave you weak.

"But why? I thought you wanted-"

"Love, I don't always know what I want. But this is one of those times when I do."

Suddenly, Astarion was gone, making you whine in protest.

“Underwear off,” he commanded whilst fumbling with his clothes, his voice raspy because of the emotions he was struggling to contain.

You were more than ready for this. But you were feeling cheeky. So, with a smirk, you lifted yourself off the bedroll until your lips were an inch from his, your warm breath on his cool skin.

"A lady likes to be asked."

He gritted his teeth but relented. "Please, love."

"Tsk, don't pout, Star. Was it really so hard?"

"No. But this is,” he snatched your hand and put it on his length, giving himself a few strokes with his fingers clenched tightly around yours. “So be good and do as I say. Off."

You felt a shiver dance down your spine as he called you a good girl. He was playing dirty, and he knew it. This time you obeyed almost instantly, fingers shaking as you took off your smallclothes.

As soon as you discarded them, Astarion was behind you again, naked from the waist down. You turned your head to look over your shoulder, taking in his face.

Desire, need, lust.

He stared at you like he was desperate to have you. Perhaps in a way he was. You gulped, feeling giddy and excited, and also very pleased with yourself for choosing to wear a cotton slip to bed.

Angling your arm a little awkwardly, you reached for Astarion and your thumb flicked over the sensitive tip, making you gasp when his hips surged forward.

“Touch me again,” he ordered when your hand began to leave him.

“But I-I want to feel you inside.”

“Soon. Good girls who wait get fucked best, didn’t anyone tell you that?” Astarion taunted, though he knew that he was the one suffering.

His mind was clear, he was present, his eyes on the face of the one who loved him so tenderly and fiercely. He wanted to fuck you into the bedroll right there and then more than anything in his life. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to have a little fun with your first.

“Touch me, I know you want to.”

Perhaps you did, but that was beside the point.

“I need you, Astarion. Please.”

“Soon. Get to it, love.”

No matter how much he willed himself to stay still, Astarion’s hips jumped as your hand went up and down his length, moving to cup his balls and caress them with gentleness that had Astarion cursing himself for not just giving in.

“Astarion,” you whined, not quite recognising your own voice.

“Fine.” One arm wrapped around your waist, he pushed you back down against the bedroll. “Since you ask so nicely, I will indulge you.”

You were going to snap at him, but then whatever what you were going to say turned into whimper when you felt the tip of his dick rub against your entrance. You were still sensitive, and a shiver ran through your body at the slightest contact.

He gave a few shallow fucks before finally, finally giving you what you wanted.

Astarion dropped his head onto your shoulder as his hips began to grind and roll. His cock slid deeper, flexed against inner walls. He pulled out, slamming back into you and enjoying every soft hitch in your breath.

“You’re so tight. Fuck,” Astarion groaned out, nestling into your neck as he picked up pace.  “I won’t stop anymore, love. I can’t stop,” he admitted huskily. He no longer had the strength to control himself.

Astarion parted your legs to give himself better access and tore at the cloth still covering your body, the fabric tearing under his rough treatment to expose one of your breasts.

“Astarion!” Your protest turned into a whine.

“I’ll buy you a new one. I will buy ten,” he chuckled darkly and kissed your back.

“I’ll make sure to remind you,” you hissed and moaned, feeling a hand cup your breast and move to roll a nipple between long, dexterous fingers.

You were so, so close. It was maddening how well this man knew exactly where to touch you.

And then his hand was gone and you felt Astarion withdraw abruptly, leaving you concerned and panicking.

Was this too much? Was he- Oh! Oh.

Whatever thought you were about to have next died a swift death as Astarion’s tongue flicked between your folds, your throaty, desperate moan encouraging him to continue.

His tongue thrust forward, and then again, and again and-

“Astarion,” you half-sobbed, face falling forward. You held the pillow against your mouth to try to silence whatever obscene sounds you were about to make.

Legs shaking, fingers gripping the pillow so hard that your knuckles turned white, your second orgasm hit you hard, Astarion not stopping until he saw that you were finished.

Rising a little on shaking hands, you took a few steadying breaths.

“What happened to ‘I can’t stop’,” you managed.

“I slipped.”

You gave an inelegant snort and turned weakly to face him, legs and arms trembling. Astarion grinned at you cheekily, finding that he rather enjoyed how much of a mess you were. Hair mussed, clothes torn beyond repair, the red imprint from where you pressed the pillow into your skin, and the way you could barely hold yourself up.

He did all that. And he was not even done with you.

Astarion lay down onto the bedroll, pulling you down beside him, hands snaking round your middle and holding you close.

"I want that, you know," you felt him exhale. "I want to be the man you see," Astarion whispered, face hidden in your hair, as he entered you with utmost gentleness. Pausing briefly he just lay next to you and enjoyed the sound of your still ragged breath, the rapid heartbeat, the warmth of your skin. You felt on hand trace patterns on your waist as it moved down, settling on the swell of your hip.

And then Astarion was moving again. Slow, so toe-curlingly slow at first. Then a touch faster, settling into a rhythm.

"You already are. You are strong.”

“Yes.”

He was speeding up, this time ready for his own release.

“You are free."

He moaned and whimpered, hips stuttering, thrust turning desperate.

"I love the man that you are."

He bit down on your shoulder and you winced as fangs peirced skin, rivulets of blood staining what was left of the cloth that barely covered you.

"I love you, Astarion."

He thrust once, twice and then again and- oh. Astarion fucked you through his orgasm and then more still, until he felt himself grow soft, his spend trickling down between your bodies.

He drew in a breath he didn’t need and shuddered as the last wave of pleasure coursed through his body.

"That was amazing," you lifted his hand to your lips to kiss his knuckles.

“Well you have to say that now, after you had your way with me so thoroughly,” he said with an air of a virgin defiled by a rake.

“Are you saying that it was me that seduced you?” You turned your head to see him grin.

The nerve of that man!

“As if you didn’t know what you were doing to me when you wore that,” he pointed a finger what used to be your sleepwear, “to bed.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” you huffed.

“Perhaps then I should give you-”

“Will you two fuckers stop fucking already, it’s too early for all this!” Karlach bellowed from her tent.

“Gale?” Shadowheart groaned in dismay, probably wishing she put her tent up further away from Astarion's.

“On it.”

“Did he just cast Silence on us?” Astarion heard your voice in his mind.

“I believe we were a little too loud.” The elf wiggled his eyebrows at you as you felt him make use of the tadpole.

“This is mortifying,” you groaned and tried to hide your face behind your hands.

“Well, if they needed their beauty sleep, should have told the wizard to cast the spell earlier,” Astarion shrugged, looking completely unapologetic, and slapped your ass, delighting in your surprised squeak. “Besides, we can be as loud as we want now.”

“You are kidding, right?”

“I do not kid.”

“Astarion! No!”

“Yes.”

He rolled you onto your back and started kissing from your collarbones down to your breasts.

“No,” your voice had a little less conviction, weak hands pushing back silvery curls and tracing the tips of his ears .

“Yes.” Astarion lifted his head for a moment, ruby eyes filled with adoration, only to continue his descent.

“Oh, fine,” you gave a happy sigh, feeling him hum against your skin in approval.

You knew that you should probably feel chastened now that you knew you cost your companions precious hours of sleep, but you felt floaty and content, and far too well-fucked to feel too guilty. You would deal with the inevitable looks and comments later.  And then Astarion did that thing you liked with his tongue and you did not give anyone another thought for quite a while.

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[paulyenvol6]

Yours To Keep

This is just full of fluff and cuteness and Pedro and reader being all over each other which I hope you enjoy!!

Pedro takes you with him for the 50th anniversary of SNL and shows off your engagement to the entire world.

Contains: smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, soft and very slight dom Pedro, aftercare, tooth-rotting and domestic fluff, Pedro being the sweetest human on earth, established relationship, mentions of marriage and engagement

Masterlist

Wordcount: ~8.60k

"You look nice."

You smiled and chuckled squeezing Pedro's hand twice before kissing his cheek.

"Thank you. So do you."

You slightly crouched against his shoulder burying your face in his jacket that smelled a little different but you were still able to make out his familiar scent.

"Are you nervous, honey?" he instantly asked sensing how you absolutely couldn't sit still in the car seat and wrapped his arm around you.

"A little…," you said but it sounded like a question. "Don't be."

"That's easy to say," you pouted poking him in the side.

"It's just a concert and we're guests. Nothing's gonna happen, we'll just be in the audience and have a good time."

His words gave you comfort but when your gaze dropped to your hand the nervous fluttering in your stomach returned.

"But… I mean they will notice this, right?"

Pedro grabbed your hand determinedly and pressed kisses to one finger after the other starting at your little finger and giving a special amount of attention to your ring finger that wore a breathtakingly beautiful silver ring that was both glamourus and elegant. Your engagement ring.

"They might. But there's no need to worry about it. I love you and I'm ready to share it with the world. What could possibly go wrong, mhm?"

You had turned away from him but Pedro gently took hold of the side of your face capturing your attention.

"I don't know. I really don't, I guess it's just general anxiety."

He smiled softly pulling you closer to him to kiss your forehead.

"Oh baby," he whispered so quietly that no one in the car except you could possibly hear these words. "You know I got you, right? I won't leave your side for a second. Except maybe when you go to the bathroom but if you want to I'll wait right by the door and I'm not even kidding, okay?"

You couldn't help but scoff and in a matter of seconds you gave him a genuine smile. That was the thing about Pedro Pascal. He never failed to make you laugh and brighten your mood. He was your safe space, your comfort person and when his thumb brushed over the back of your slightly shaking hand you actually believed him. He was all that mattered after all. And now the two of you were engaged and why shouldn't the world know it as well?

"I love you," you whispered and then leaned in for a kiss on his mouth.

"I love you too, y/n. And I promise you we'll have a good time tonight. If you're not gonna enjoy the concert I'll make your night good afterwards."

His crooked smirk indicated what he was alluding to and you felt the blood rushing in your cheeks.

"Pedro…," you whispered fearing that the driver might have heard him but as if he didn't have a care in the world he kissed you right next to your ear which made you giggle and feel like a teenager on her first date of her life.

"I'll make it up to you if you have a really bad time. But… actually I think I'm also gonna make it up to you if you have a semi good time. And maybe, just maybe also if you're gonna have a good time."

His hand was definitely resting too high on your thigh now and you shifted in your seat.

"Pedro. I don't think this is helping right now," you complained with a smile that gave your true feelings away.

Before he could answer you the car stopped and suddenly your heart pounded loudly in your chest again although Pedor had just been able to calm you. He immediately noticed the way you tensed and tightly gripped your hand.

"It's fine. It's gonna be fine, baby. It's just you and me and a bunch of other people."

You bit your lip raising your hand like you were going to punch him but then ran it over his arm instead.

"Shut up. Oh and by the way, I swear to god if you're gonna get drunk tonight and embarrass us both AND basically leave me alone I'm gonna be so angry."

You started to climb out of the car and heard him following close behind.

"Don't worry, honey. You know what they say about alcohol and erectile dysfunction…"

Now you couldn't help but smirk back at him while you adjusted your dress and he straightened up next to you.

"Have I told you already how pretty you look?" he asked while placing his arm around your waist.

"Yes. But it's nice to hear it again."

~~~~~~~~~~

Everything happened very fast.

You were confronted with what seemed like a thousand cameras taking pictures of Pedro and you all at once and now it was obvious that the little secret the two of you had been carrying around for the last two months was out. Someone would surely notice the identical rings on both his and your left hand and one didn't have to be a genius to connect the dots. But who cared? Pedro was right, the love between the two of you was the most important thing and you wouldn't hide it anymore.

Once at the door, it was a matter of seconds before you were waved in, then you handed over your jackets at the cloakroom and were then led into the avenue by a woman in a black dress.

"There is food and drinks outside if you leave the hall through the main door. I will lead you to your seats now and then you'll have about… 30 more minutes until the show starts."

Pedro nodded friendly and squeezed your hand every now and then until you arrived at your seats in the second row.

"Wow, these are really good seats," it broke out of you and the woman gave you a wide smile.

"I should hope so. Now, I'm in a real hurry but I wish the two of you a lovely night and… congratulations."

She winked mischievously and at first you were too stunned to speak let alone thank her and only when she was already gone you stared at Pedro.

"Did you hear that?"

He nodded and opened the buttons of his jacket. "Very good eyes."

Then the two of you sat down admiring and examining the concert hall while also taking a look at the celebrities that were already there. Of course you spotted a lot of familiar faces like Paul Rudd and Anya Taylor-Joy so the next minutes were filled with chatter and laughter and you had to admit that you were having a very good time.

You especially enjoyed going crazy about Meryl Streep who had been an inspiration to you for so long. And your boyfriend, no, your fiancée would be doing a skit with her on Sunday. You really couldn't have been more proud of Pedro and didn't move an inch away from him the whole time no matter how clingly or ridiculous the two of you might look.

Pedro didn't seem to mind at all which didn't surprise you as he was the touchiest person you had ever met. His love language was physical touch and he didn't waste an opportunity to rest his head on your shoulder or toy with your fingers, especially when he got excited or nervous.

When the concert was about to start the people began to find their seats and Pedro and you finally sat down again as well.

"How are you, baby?" he asked stroking your back with his left hand.

"I'm very good, Pedro. But I want you to have a good time now without worrying about me. I'm good, really. And I'm even better when you're enjoying yourself so please do that now."

He lifted the corner of his mouth leaning with his forehead against your arm for a brief moment before adjusting in his seat. "I will."

And as it turned out, he did exactly that. The show was opened by Jimmy Fallon and while your personal highlight was Arcade Fire's performance of 'Heroes' Pedro absolutely lost it during Robyn's and David Byrne's rendition of 'Dancing on my own'.

You could only giggle and feel the butterflies in your tummy going insane while watching him record the performance with so much devotion that he almost seemed to tear up. How could you possibly love this man next to you more?

Towards the end of the show the two of you stopped sitting down and instead gave yourself to the music moving and dancing as if you were the only two people in this room. Your heart skipped a beat when Pedro held your hand during 'This Must Be The Place' toying with your engagement ring all while giving you these chocolate brown eyes of his that never failed to take you out.

If happiness could be defined by a moment it would definitely be this one, you thought and when the concert was over you still felt like you were on a cloud.

Your head was buzzing and Pedro didn't exactly do anything to help you leave your high.

"THAT WAS FUCKING AWESOME," he screamed in your ear shaking your body by your arms.

"I KNOW," you answered equally excited and almost crushed under his weight when he threw himself in your arms. The two of you giggled and raved about the musical acts like teenage girls while leaving the building which turned out to take quite a long time as you were stopped by familiar faces every few seconds.

When you finally stepped out into the cold it was long past midnight and you greedily inhaled the fresh air feeling overwhelmed with the sudden silence. Well, it was still New York City and even at this time the air was filled with the sound of cars and chatter but your dizzy head seemed to finally get a moment of peace.

Pedro seemingly was swimming in his own thoughts as well, a dreamy wide smile on his face but his grip around your waist was firm. When the two of you entered the car, leaving the lights of the cameras of the papparazzi behind he clenched your hand.

"I fucking saw Robyn, y/n. And Nirvana. And Arcade Fire. What the fuck?"

You put your seatbelt on slowly feeling how your soul fully returned to your body and nestled up against Pedro's side.

"It was so amazing. I think I'm in love with St Vincent."

"That's okay but only because I think I'm in love with her too."

He held you the whole car ride back to your hotel. You exchanged a few words and expressions of excitement but the both of you seemed to be busy processing the concert at the same time. So a huge amount of the time you stared ahead of you replaying this incredibly evening and somehow trying to comprehend that it had actually happened.

Only when you arrived at the hotel did Pedro's attention shift again because while you walked through the lobby his hand on your hip traveled a little lower and you blushed nervously looking up to him.

"I tend to keep my promises, babygirl," he whispered against your hair and you cursed yourself for not even caring about the fact that someone could see you or even worse, take a picture of the two of you snuggled up like this. Instead your throbbing heat seemed to take control over your mind and your glossy eyes searched for his.

"I need you, baby," you said clenching his white shirt tightly to show him just how much.

"I know. And I'm gonna give you what you need. Trust me."

It wouldn't have been necessary for him to say this because obviously you knew what he was capable of making you feel. And yet his thoughts enhanced your desire for him even more and the last 20 meters to your hotel room felt like an eternity.

Once he had pulled you inside the room with him he quickly locked the door and then started to devour you like a wild animal. His lips were on yours, his hands all over your body and he was quick to press his knee between your legs knowing your body so damn well.

You wore a silk dress that revealed quite the amount of skin but of course it wasn't enough for Pedro so he slipped the straps of your dress over your shoulders pulling it down until your bare chest was revealed.

"You're telling me you didn't wear a fuckin' bra all night?" he growled against your forehead pressing you closer to the wall he had pushed you against.

"Pedro," you whined your arms entangled behind his back.

He smirked smugly enjoying the way he had you wrapped around his little finger. You were so incredibly responsive to his touch and the sound of his voice and he knew that not the largest movie role could give him a bigger ego-boost than your little sighs and whimpers that were only meant for him.

He kissed his way down to the swell of your breasts gently burying his teeth in your flesh so deep that he could feel you twitch but not so much so that he would seriously hurt you. When he started to take care of your nipples you threw your head back feeling grateful for the wall behind you and buried your hands in his hair that started to look more and more messy and curly the longer the two of you made out.

Not wanting to neglect your left breast his big hand took care of your other bud and enclosed it between his fingers which made you rock your core against his leg between your thighs.

"Pedro," you sighed again feeling almost too weak on your knees to stand but luckily he sensed it and steadied you by holding you by your waist.

"I know babygirl. I'm gonna make you feel so fuckin' good. 'Cause you deserve it. I love you so much and I want you to feel it."

This was probably the clostest to heaven you would ever reach because both his mouth and his hand was occupied with exploring your chest with so much delicacy that you felt like you were the most precious thing Pedro had ever held in his arms.

That was one of the attributes about him that you had fallen in love with first. The way he made his opposite feel as though they were the only and most important person for him. And he was especially good at doing so while devouring your body.

"You're so fucking pretty like this, baby. I don't know what I did to deserve all of this."

You widened your eyes because the question was what did you do to deserve this?

"I need you Pedro," you whimpered, seriously close to crying not only because of the gentleness of his words but also because you were so desperate to be closer to him, seeing and tasting every part of him while being utterly consumed by him.

"Patience, y/n."

Your nails lightly scratched over his shoulders hinting at the fact that you weren't in the mood to wait right now but he placed a messy kiss on your collarbone while soothingly caressing the side of your chest.

"I know, I know. Just lemme have a little more time with you, mhm? Afterwards I'll make you come as many times as you want, okay?"

You nodded because what else were you supposed to do? Were you supposed to deny him when he looked at you with these puppy eyes? You would probably agree to anything he was asking of you right now.

And so Pedro continued his explorations on your abdomen kissing and biting every inch of your skin. His big hands kneaded your flesh and rolled your buds between his fingers gifting you indescribable pleasure and if you hadn't been too fucked out already to articulate your words you probably would have repeatedly sighed his name over and over again.

His mouth additionally traced the outline of your breast and seeing this perfect man savouring you like you were the most beautiful and stunning creature he had ever laid his eyes on gave you more confidence than anything else in the world.

Soon, you had lost every sense for the passing time, he let go of you and guided you to the big bed in the middle of the room. Pedro gently pushed you on it but didn't immediately followed as he started to take off his shirt which he threw on the floor joining his jacket that he had already pealed off earlier. Then his pants followed and he eventually crawled, only wearing his boxers, on top of you.

You were mesmerized by his stunning body that you had seen more times than you could count and yet never failed to make you drool for him. His broad shoulders, the small waist and his muscular arms… Obviously he noticed the way you were staring and put a finger under your chin.

"Naughty girl…," he purred and then kissed you softly but pulled back way too soon.

"You're gonna let me eat that pussy?" he asked and you gulped feeling his hands on your hips. He was good at giving oral sex but you knew that in the kind of mood he was in tonight it would be sensational. Electrifying. You really were in for a ride.

Almost feeling scared of the reaction he would provoke in you you ran your hands through his hair.

"Yes, Pedro. Please," you whispered nevertheless and watched him make his way down your body.

He stopped at your stomach kissing the softness of your belly which made you giggle and then he pulled down your dress, took it off your body so the only thing separating him from what hid between your legs was your panties. He stroked your bare thighs looking at your body almost proudly as if he was dreaming about what would come now.

"Please. I really need it, Pedro, like really."

His eyes shot up to your face again and a smile formed on his face.

"Someone is a little impatient tonight."

You rolled your eyes though not entirely capable of hiding your inner peace.

"Someone is a teasing ass tonight."

That made him chuckle but he finally pealed off your underwear which you considered a success and you apprehensively pressed your legs together.

"You know you need to open your legs in order for me to make you feel good," he smirked gently and yet firmly parting your thighs. Then his eyes darkened at the sight of your pussy and you could hear his breath catching in his throat.

"Will you look at that…," he panted caressing the insides of your thighs. "The best fuckin' pussy I've ever tasted and smelled and touched."

The butterflies in your stomach were wakened once more and you blushed at his words. You couldn't believe that you had been anxious about him seeing, let alone eating your pussy at the start of your relationship just because your past partners had either not given you oral sex at all or expressed their dislike for it very clearly. But Pedro wasn't like them. He was absolutely crazy about making you come on his tongue and ever since you had let him dive between your thighs for the first time you realized what douchebags your exes had been.

You snapped back to reality when Pedro lowered his head and licked a strip from your hole up to your clit collecting your arousal and swallowing it with relish.

"For fuck's sake," he growled his eyes rolling back at your divine taste. "You're drippin', babygirl."

"Pedro, fuck… Please…," you whimpered already feeling like pudding beneath him.

This time he instantly followed your request, perhaps feeling addicted to your taste so much that he didn't care about teasing you anymore.

He wrapped his soft lips around your clit applying light pressure while circling his tongue around it, which was an intoxicating combination. Sometimes you believed that he knew your body better than you did because he seemed to know exactly where to touch you and when to go faster but if you slept with someone almost every day for more than 3 years you grew to know each other's likings and dislikings.

It didn't take you long until you realized that he was especially hooked tonight. He was always good, of course but tonight you felt like he was eating you alive. You wondered how he had the energy to get lost in you like this after having spent almost three hours dancing and exhausting himself at the concert but who were you to complain? It felt like he was trying to suffocate in your pussy and when he took your clit between his teeth to lightly nibble at it you let out a long whine.

"Fuckkkk," you whimpered gripping the bedsheets and feeling your toes curl.

"Ohh fuck, Pedro. S-So… fucking… good."

He smiled which you couldn't see and then started to circle your entrance with his pointer finger. His mouth didn't leave your clit for a second while he inserted his finger in you gently opening you up. He curled it just right and you choked on a moan.

"Please. Please, I need to…," you whined unable to finish the sentence but you honestly didn't know what you were even asking for.

"Yes, baby. I got you, you see? S'alright, I know what you need. Just listen to my voice and relax. I'll take care of you."

His voice was so soothing and mesmerizing that you allowed yourself to close your eyes. He really was taking care of you because minutes later you felt yourself getting closer to your orgasm. He kitten-licked your clit now getting the hood that covered your little nub out of the way so it was even more intense for you. In the way your body tensed and your muscles tightened he was able to see that you were about to burst so he became faster.

"You're gonna cum for me, y/n? Gonna soak my face?"

You could only nod too focused on not letting out a shriek that was definitely not appropriate for an entire hotel to be heard and dug your fingers into his broad shoulders.

"Then come. Give it all to me, c'mon."

It was truly magical how you reached your high right at his words and arched beneath him.

"FUCK," you cried out buckling your hips and uncontrollably shook while he licked you through it.

"S'right. That's a good girl…"

The intense orgasm completely took you out and you needed a moment to collect yourself but once you did you realized how his touch had started to feel overwhelming.

"Pedro…," you whispered pulling at his strong arms.

"Feelin' a little overstimulated?" he asked raising his head from your cunt.

"Yes. But I need you now, please. Need you inside of me."

Pedro was more than happy with your request and crawled up to you again so your faces were on the same level.

"Yeah, you do?" he asked with flashing eyes and you couldn't wait to feel filled by him any longer so you wrapped your legs around his waist and crossed them behind is ass.

"Please. I want you so badly."

He looked down and your eyes followed him to where he pulled his boxers down to reveal his cock that stood hard against his stomach. The precum on his tip looked tempting and you were just about to demand to suck him off when he wrapped a hand around his shaft dragging the tip through your folds.

You instantly forgot everything and his dick quite literally took hold of your actions and thoughts. When he circled your aching clit your eyes rolled back and now you really were completely fucked out and at his mercy.

"Pedro…," you whispered almost feeling pathetic for begging him all the time but you really needed him now and he just couldn't make you wait any longer. Fortunately he finally released you from the torment and started to push into you with the tip.

"That's it… Oh jesus christ…," Pedro sighed his face drawn in pleasure.

"Breathe, sweetheart," he reminded you as he saw you staring up to him with eyes round as coins. "You're so fuckin' amazing, y/n. And you feel so goddamn good around me."

He was only with the tip inside but you already felt like it wouldn't take a lot more to make you come again so you applied pressure to his ass gesturing him to push deeper so the two of you could orgasm at the same time.

"I'm not gonna last long, babygirl, I'm sorry," he grunted in your ear his hands groping your right breast.

"S'okay," you managed to press out. "I won't either."

Pedro smiled softly and left kisses on your jaw while picking up the pace of thrusting in you. He still didn't go as deep as he could fearing that he might hurt you as he wasn't exactly small but it was enough to drive him dangerously close to the edge after an embarrassingly short amount of time.

Pedro swiftly reached down between your legs to search for your clit and started to rub you in messy circles so he wouldn't burst before you.

"Are you close, honey?" he breathed and you felt his thrusts getting sloppier.

"Yes. M'close, m'so fuckin' close."

He pushed inside of you three more times while stimulating your clit and then you came. You shrieked loudly and the feeling of your pussy clenching around him made him burst as well. Pedro let out a deep growl, collapsed on top of you and you felt his cum filling you up to the brim.

"Oh jesus fuckin' christ…," he moaned and bruied his face in your neck.

You on the other hand were powerlessly sprawled out underneath him enjoying the way his weight pressed you down into the mattress and soothingly ran your hands through his locks.

"That was so good, baby," you whispered and kissed his sweaty hair.

He didn't answer you but you were familiar with the way he always needed a moment to collect himself after a crushing orgasm like this. So you decided to shower him with the love your felt for him that was so intense currently that it almost cut off your breathing.

"I love you, Pedro. So so much. And I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. I want you by my side all the time, forever."

That was the point where he lifted his head glancing at you with wet eyes.

"How did I deserve you?" he asked for the second time tonight pretending to break down and cry and you cradled his head.

"C'mere," you whispered gesturing him to crawl up to you and pulled him in for a kiss.

"Pedro?" you asked against his lips after a while.

"Mhm?" he spoke sounding just as exhausted as you felt.

"I'm so tired. Can we just clean up tomorrow?"

He gently bit you bottom lip and caressed your cheek. "Of course. Just wanna sleep now."

With these words he rolled off you but was quick to embrace you again by moving your body around so your head could rest on his chest. When his hand began to stroke your hair you almost started to pur like a cat but you didn't find out whether you did because you fell asleep before it could happen.

~~~~~~~~~~

The two of you woke up late the next day which wasn't a surprise considering the concert had ended at around 1 am and instead of sleeping you had fucked afterwards.

So it was almost noon when you opened your eyes and glanced at Pedro to your left who was still fast asleep. You decided that the two of you deserved a lazy morning like this and moved over to him so you could crouch against his upper body. The sticky feeling between your legs reminded you of how you both had been too lazy last night to clean yourselves up but you were still not eager to leave Pedro so you pushed the thought of going to the bathroom away and instead inhaled his scent greedily.

You were able to dooze away for a couple of minutes again but were woken up when Pedro moved next to you and you smiled as he opened his eyes into yours.

"Mhmmmm… what's the time?" he asked and yawned open-mouthedly.

"Almost 12."

He sighed, but made no attempt to get up, instead grabbing your waist so that your body crashed against his.

"I just wanna stay here," he mumbled his eyes closed but you poked him in the side.

"You have a rehearsal later, baby."

His lips formed a pout and he opened his left eye. "I can skip it."

You smirked and kissed his ear while crawling on top of him.

"Yeah you can. But then I'm really curious to see how you're gonna do tomorrow."

Pedro let out a frustrated hum and took hold of your waist. "You can jump in for me."

You had to laugh at his morning-dizziness that almost made him act like he was high and pressed kisses on his neck.

"No one will notice, right?"

He shook his head finally opening his eyes and smiled at you. "No. Because we're basically the same person 'cause we're getting married, you know?"

"Mhm, yes, I know."

You leaned down to kiss his nose while your hand caressed the side of his face.

"Y/n?"

"Yes?"

Pedro closed his eyes again breathing steadily while you spoiled his face and neck with kisses.

"Where do you wanna get married?"

You chewed on your bottom lip and thought about your answer for a few seconds.

"I haven't really thought about it yet to be honest. Have you?"

He shook his head slightly moving up in the bed so he could pull you closer to his chest.

"No, not really. But if you could choose right now, what place would you pick?"

"Mhmm… You know that I'm a big Italy fan, right? Just imagine it. Italian coast preferably in autumn so it's not too hot. And then our families and friends and we could go take a swim in the ocean at night." You laughed and pinched his cheek. "Or we could do a karaoke night."

Pedro rolled his eyes and grimaced which only made you giggle harder.

"Don't remind me of it. I really don't know why I agreed to do it for SNL. I just don't get why people are doing it, I mean someone has written the song and sang it, why are people now ruining it by giving us their drunk version of it?"

You pretended to frown and stroked the hair out of his face. "You're not gonna be drunk while perfoming it, are you?"

"Well maybe I should be. Ohhh fuck, y/n why have I agreed to this?"

Pedro buried his head in your neck and dramatically shook your body while you soothingly ran your hands over his naked back.

"Shhhh. You got this. I know you do. And you're not terrible when it comes to singing. You might not have the perfect timing, but…"

He interrupted you by lifting his head and showing you the middle finger. You quickly took hold of his hand pushing it against his chest and seriously looked at him.

"What I was saying was… You might not have the perfect timing, but I know that you're gonna do amazing, Pedro, because you're incredible. And you have time to practice today which brings me to the next important matter: We need to get up now."

He let out a disapproving cry and was quick to roll the two of you over so you were trapped underneath him.

"No," he whispered and narrowed his eyes at you. "I'm not finished with my morning routine yet."

You laughed out placing your hands on his shoulders. "Your morning routine?"

Pedro nodded with an important look on his face.

"Of course. Don't you know that it gives stability to have a morning ritual?"

You bit your lip with relish as you felt his hand traveling up your waist.

"Is that so? What is your morning ritual then?"

Pedro answered you with a deep kiss that completely cut off your air supply and left you breathless once he pulled away.

"Now I'm finished," he smirked and rolled off you.

~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the day was quite peaceful and eventless. Pedro ended up attending the rehearsal for the anniversary and returned to the hotel room when you had just started to read a book. His eyebrows were drawn together and dramatic as he was he dropped his head to his chest acting like he was crying.

"I messed up my entry a million times, y/n."

You put the book down stood up and pulled him into a hug. "Oh my love… I told you, the timing."

Pedro instantly pushed you away but couldn't hide the amusement on his face.

"Shut up. You don't know a thing about acting anyway," he prenteded to sulk and crossed his arms in front of his chest which made you laugh.

"How was it apart from your failure?" you then asked with flashing eyes. Pedro ignored your teasing and nodded while sitting down on the bed.

"It was good. I mean you know, I don't particulary enjoy karaoke but it was still fun. I was happy to see Marcello again and Sabrina was also very nice so, yeah. I think it's gonna be fine. I hope so."

"It will be fine, Pedro," you said insistently and truly meant it. "And even if you make a mistake it doesn't matter. This is the anniversary and it's supposed to be fun for everyone. No one's gonna care if you, I don't know, mess up the timing once or twice. Really."

He nodded again pulling you towards him by your hips until you stood between his legs.

"You're right. Somehow you're always right. How do you do it?"

You smirked and only now noticed how gorgeous he looked despite being exhausted from rehearsal.

"Keep talking, baby."

Pedro's hand were suddenly on your ass squeezing you softly which made your smile deepen. He was such a flirt and it sometimes drove you mad.

"Seriously though, we're gonna do what you wanna do tonight. I want you to relax. Even if it means watching an old film in bad quality on your iPad because you can't stream on Netflix on the hotel TV."

Pedro chuckled pushing you even closer to him until you lost your balance and landed on his lap.

"You're givin' me ideas, baby."

"If that's what you wanna do, let's do it."

And so the two of you actually spent the night watching 'Dirty Dancing' probably for the sixth time. You fell asleep once towards the end but woke up again before Pedro could even notice and then afterwards his hand on your thigh drove you insane but you didn't initiate anything as he was probably too tense and nervous to relax.

Tonight you went to bed early which you thought was exactly what the both of you needed and so you didn't fight the sleep creeping up on you as the sun hadn't even touched the horizon yet.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next day Pedro woke up early which was no wonder considering how stressed he was about his SNL performance. You didn't mind being waken up by his restlessly shifting body and although you had problems keeping your eyes open you decided to get up as well while Pedro took on his bathrobe.

"When are Coco and Julia gonna be here?" you asked rubbing over your tired eyes.

"They said they would be at the hotel at 4 pm I think. But I'm gonna check again."

"Alright," you yawned and opened your phone answering a few messages.

The both of you were still very tired so you didn't exchange a lot of words, well-aware of the fact that you just needed a few minutes of silence so you could properly wake up until you were fully ready for the day.

Despite feeling so excited and nervous Pedro knew about your habits and granted you these peacful minutes before the two of you decided to have breakfast downstairs.

It turned out to be a relaxed and beautiful meal, sipping on your cappucino while the sun shone inside despite the cold weather. Yet you worriedly watched your fianée only taking small bites from his pancake which made you speak up at some point.

"Pedro, you have to eat. You're gonna need the energy."

"I know," he sighed tapping with his finger on the table. "But I feel like I'm too anxious."

That made you take his hand and you traced his tattoo just like you always did when you attempted to make him calm.

"There's no need to be scared, baby. You practiced the skits, you are so fucking talented and they're gonna help you with the words if you forget. And you know that all these people performing with you love you and they're gonna try and make you feel comfortable. And I don't know if that helps but I'll be in the audience and I'm gonna cheer for you."

Your words elicited a smile from him and he stared down to where your hands were locked.

"It helps. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Both your rings reflected the incoming sunrays and you watched them taking in their beauty. You felt amazed and excited every time your eyes fell upon the ring because it still was so surreal to be engaged to him. Not in a way that you felt appalled or rejecting but more in a state of disbelief. You had been dating him for more than three years now, getting to know every aspect of his personality and had grown to love him like you had never loved someone before. And now he was engaged to you because he claimed to enjoy your presence just as much as you did his. It was simply perfect.

"You're never gonna know 'cause I'll always be with you," you replied to his previous words and blared your teeth. "Oh and besides, another important point: You already hosted SNL and you were absolutely incredibly and so we know that you can do it."

"Yeah but do we…?" he scoffed lifting his eyebrows playfully.

"Yes we do. Just promise me that you'll try and have fun. Because then it's gonna be a success."

He nodded looking like he truly appreciated your words for once and thoughtfully moved his thumb to his mouth.

"Once again, I don't know how you always know what to say."

You leaned back in your chair crossing your arms in front of your chest and shrugged your shoulders.

"90 percent of the time I don't know either. Or let's say 80."

Pedro curved the corner of his lips glancing at you with those brown eyes that you wished you could sink into.

~~~~~~~~~~

Pedro and you spent the morning reading and listening to music as there simply wasn't enough time to really do something like going to the city. Then around 4 pm his stylists Julia und Coco arrived and started to take care of the both of you. It was always fun to have the two of them around and you didn't mind sitting still in your chair at all as you were getting well entertained.

You now wore a green gown and a matching scarf around your neck that highlighted your red lips. You looked elegant and classy, you found and had to smile when your pupils danced over your reflection in the mirror. Pedro was currently in the other room getting ready and you couldn't wait to see him all dressed up.

You had to be patient for another 30 more minutes until you heard steps coming closer and you sat up in your chair turning your head to the door to the other room.

When Pedro opened it your eyes lightened up and time seemed to be frozen for a brief moment. He looked handsome, like a literal dream.

Pedro wore a brown suit and a light brown seater underneath. The colours went perfectly with his hair and skin tone and you thought that you probably wouldn't get bored staring at him for the rest of your life. But now Pedro seemed to want to see something himself and gestured you to stand up.

"Let me take a look at you, honey." You rose up twirling for him while giving him a shy smile. Pedro's eyes softened and before you could register him coming closer his arms were around your back.

"You look fucking amazing. For god's sake, I don't know how to concentrate on anything that isn't you tonight."

You hid your face in his neck that smelled of his favourite perfume holding back tears of happiness.

"So do you, baby. You're gorgeous."

You got lost in time and only slowly pulled away from each other when Pedro's publicist cleared her throat.

"Sorry to interrupt. But we need to get going soon."

He pressed one last kiss to your cheek and then watched you proudly running his hands over your sides.

"Of course. I think we're ready."

Minutes later you found yourself in the car again next to your fiancée just like you had before the homecoming concert.

You simply couldn't take your eyes off him, he really was glowing tonight and the drive to the studio flew by. Outside you were greeted with even more flashing lights than two nights ago and you almost wanted to cover your eyes from the photographers.

Your heart pounded loudly being well-aware that your engagement would be obvious now at latest. The two of you proudly wore your rings and right now it seemed like every newpaper in the world would have a photo of you on their front pages tomorrow.

Pedro tightly held your hand and you weren't certain if he did it to comfort you or seek comfort from you but either way you were happy about it and ran your thumb over his knuckles. The two of you waved to the papparzzi letting them take their pictures and then you were led inside by his publicist, Anna.

Inside the whole procedure started again with what seemed like a million cameras capturing every gesture and twitch of your eyes and soon your mouth hurt from smiling so much.

Of course Pedro was a lot more interesting to the papparazzi and interviewers than you and you let him take the spotlight with pleasure. You smiled watching him on the red carpet so the photographers could take a few pictures with him alone and then waited while he gave a couple of interviews.

You really hoped he knew how much he deserved all of this. Not just because he was an incredible actor and entertainer but also because he worked so hard to get here. You didn't even pay attention to anyone else on the red carpet although there were the most famous people in the world walking past you because you only had eyes for Pedro. Your loving perfect Pedro. The one who had turned your life upside down three years ago and the one you wanted to get old with.

You saw how he scratched his nose at one point during an interview and couldn't help but think that it was intentional as the engagement ring was on display for the camera to catch it. He had also shown it off very clearly on the red carpet putting his hand on his hip so the whole world would find out that he was with you. Suddenly it was you who asked herself what you had done to deserve him.

When Pedro was done after a couple of minutes he quickly walked over to you and offered you his arm which you gladly took. Anna guided the two of you further until you passed the famous glambot which he did as well and then you finally found yourselves in front of the SNL stage.

Of course you would have loved to enjoy the show snuggled up against his shoulder but as that wasn't possible Pedro quickly pulled you in for a hug pressing kisses to your head.

"I'm sorry but I think I have to leave already. Hair and makeup, you know… Will you be okay?"

You smiled cupping his face and once again admired his beauty.

"Of course, baby. I can't wait to see you on stage. And once again, you got this. I'm already so fucking proud of you and there's absolutely no reason for you to be stressed, okay? We're all here to celebrate and have fun and even it something goes wrong please don't beat yourself up. But it doesn't matter anyway because you'll do amazing. Just try to enjoy it and don't think too much about it."

He nodded at you with these puppy eyes that made you want to squeeze his face but this definitely wasn't the time and place for it right now so you just kissed him one last time goodbye and then he left to go backstage where it certainly was a lot more stressful than here in the audience.

You passed the time with chatting to both people you knew and didn't know and you had so much fun that you didn't even notice the place getting more crowded. You met people you had never even dreamt of seeing in real life such as Jenna Ortega whom you repeatedly told how much you loved her in 'Wednesday' or Scarlett Johansson who from now on would probably be one of your favourite people in the world as your conversation felt so natural from the start. She hugged you in the end telling you how much she was looking forward to seeing you more frequently from now on glancing at your engagement ring and you felt the heat rising in your face.

When the show finally started you already felt high on your emotions very exhilarated and at peace at the same time.

You enjoyed Steve Martin's monologue, laughed at the first skits of the night and then it was finally time for Pedro's first appearance of the night so you dug your nails into the palms of your hands holding your breath.

Of course he did amazing. You noticed how he actually messed up the opening line just as he had predicted which you reacted to with widened eyes but he managed to keep going and in your opinion delivered a hilarious performance. You laughed and almost lost it when he had his reunion with Marcello and clapped and cheered loudly at the end.

Pedro seemed to search for you in the crowd as his eyes were dancing over the ranks and as you fortunately weren't seated too high up he spotted you and gave you wide smile that gave away how he relieved he was.

You returned the smirk and to show him how proud you were you blew him a kiss which he reacted to with a cheeky wink of his eye. Then the show proceeded so Pedro left the stage with the other actors which meant you had to wait now for his second skit.

It was a great show, you really had to admit that and you felt perfectly entertained watching all of these actors and singers putting their talents to show. But in the end it was Pedro you were here for so when his second skit was about to start you straightened up once again balling your hands into fists, muscles tensing.

You were nervous for him although you were telling yourself there was no reason for it. The performance turned out to be absolutely incredible and you couldn't hold you laughter for a moment.

Not only did Pedro do it flawlessly, no, you were also in awe of Woody Harrelson, Kate McKinnon and Meryl Streep and their ways of delivering their lines. You laughed tears, shook your head at the ridiculousness and genius of the jokes and even stood up in the end to show how impressed you were.

You even took a mental note to watch every single skit there was that included Kate McKinnon because she really had blown you away.

This time Pedro didn't have the time to make eye contact with you but you nevertheless followed his figure leaving the stage and exhaled loudly. He made it and he had done a hell of a job.

You couldn't wait to tell him how proud of him you were but first there were a lot more skits and musical performances to come so you once again relaxed and watched the show with a stupid smile on your face that just didn't seem to leave your face for a second these past days.

When the whole cast and guest performers appeared on stage in the end you finally saw Pedro again and rose to your feet alongside the other audience members. The cheers and clapping didn't seem to stop and a warmth spread throughout your body thinking about how wholesome and beautiful this whole night had been.

But now there was only one thing on your mind and that was to finally jump in Pedro's arms and never let him go again. And so as soon as the cameras were turned off and the celebrities seated around you started to move you swiftly gathered your jacket and purse and rushed down the stairs of the rang.

Pedro had seemingly already waited for you because he had opened his arms widely embracing you firmly while spinning you around. Neither of you initiated ending the hug so you enjoyed each other's warmth while you whispered sweet things in his ear.

"You did so amazing, Pedro. I loved it so much and you were so so incredible. I loved every fucking minute."

He pulled away a little to look at your face and formed his lips in a pout. "Thank you, y/n," he said clearly emotional and stroked the side of your head.

"But I messed up. Just as I said I would."

You strictly raised your finger lifting your eyebrows in a serious manner.

"No one cares. And don't you start with this now. It was a hilarious skit and you starting a little too early doesn't change anything about it."

He pressed your face to his neck swinging the two of you slightly.

"If you say so… It really was fun to be honest. But I was sooo nervous before, you won't believe it."

"But you did it. And I'm proud of you."

Pedro once again pursed his lips. "Thank you. This means so much to me. And I don't know how I would've done all of this without you."

In the way his voice broke you sensed that he was on the verge of crying and it made you tear up as well. Pedro quickly blinked them away pulling you in for yet another hug and then you stood like this for you didn't know how long but when you ended the hug a lot of people had already left the stage.

"Hotel?" you asked never having felt more content in your life.

"Hotel," he answered tightly gripping your hand and pulled you with him.

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

i would like to add on that there are plenty of scummy and/or poorly written narrative uses for redemption arcs, with or without forgiveness arcs! for example:

trying to retroactively minimize the significance of the harm that they've already done, just because they're trying not to do more of it.

trying to gloss over the significance of other harm that they've done--and might well be continuing to do! often with things included like shitty forgiveness arcs that they know would be bad PR elsewhere!--by using the fact that they're (supposedly) doing better about this thing over here as a distraction.

(this one in particular tends to go hand in hand with bigotry a LOT, because, well. it is about running PR for that character, for writers who do this shit. and some characters are considered more acceptable to walk all over than others lmao)

trying to guilt and emotionally manipulate the viewer with 'wow it's SOOOOOO hard and SOOOOOO brave of them to accept not being forgiven 🥺 SOOOOOO tragic that they just MUST deal with consequences for their actions and respect their victims' agency 🥺 you should feel sooooosososobad for them for crawling over a hundred miles of broken glass every day on their way to and back from the orphanage where they volunteer to make amends for their crimes 🥺🥺🥺🥺'

(if you can't tell i hate passive-aggressive forgiveness arcs poorly disguised as redemption arcs so much. SO much)

they completely devour the story until the author is convinced they've browbeaten the viewer into feeling exactly as much goodwill toward that character as they're supposed to. the entire story and every other character's arc, especially their victim's, now revolve around them totally until further notice. this one can (and often does) definitely fall under both going against themes and taking up too much screentime, but it's worth mentioning because it feels like the author is treating the character's arc as a magic the gathering deck you have to let them beat you with before they'll allow the story to move on.

the other characters Cannot Stop Fucking Singing Their Praises and talking about what a great guy they are, and undermining every single instance of the villain taking responsibility for their actions with 'he's so hard on himself, he's so much better than he thinks he is 🥺🥺🥺🥺'

the redemption arc happens in tandem with a corruption arc for their victim or victims, so that the story can ultimately demonize said victims by comparison to the people who hurt them in the first place. especially given how often that turns into them going after the person who hurt them, being fought off in their defense (after kicking a few puppies on the way there), and maybe even being defeated by the abuser themself. or guy who genocided their family, or oppressed their people. it's 'root for the abuser/racist/etc against the victim' with extra steps and a tragic-at-best strawman.

the redemption arc happens for a character who had much more opportunity to do so than a different villain--especially when that's the case because of privilege--so that the narrative can go 'this guy got his act together, [villain who is almost certainly an abuse victim and/or otherwise marginalized] has got no excuse 🙄'

the character goes right on being an asshole without improvement, just with 'they're trying to do better now!' tacked on in name only.

the character changes their behavior..... to be an asshole in a different way, because the values they've changed are only surface-level and the author doesn't actually understand what's wrong with their behavior.

(see: abuser who goes to therapy after being broken up with over hitting their ex, ~commits to having healthier relationships,~ and proceeds to use what they've learned in therapy to utterly destroy their next partner with emotional abuse instead.)

in general, again, the author just straight up not understanding what the character did wrong, why it was wrong, and the significance of that, before trying to make any kind of statement about the situation. for example, if you try to write a redemption arc for a racist villain without actually understanding or educating yourself on the dynamics involved in their racism.... as we have seen in many many many pieces of SFF media in particular, the results are a catastrophic racist mess lmao

and more! that's just off the top of my head. there are a lot of ways that creators and their narratives can be shitty about this, and they're worth talking about, both in their own right and because if people don't have a way to articulate them it's easy to fall into the kind of reductive thinking the OP is talking about.

but none of the examples i mentioned are something that shouldn't be in the story because they're a redemption arc (except maybe the part about, like, not trying to write redemption arcs for issues you Do Not Understand enough about to not be wildly offensive with your idea of what making amends would look like). the way they're being used is what sucks shit.

it's the author disrespecting the viewer's right or ability to decide how they feel about what they're presented with. it's the author taking potshots at victims and marginalized folks under the guise of celebrating the ability to change. it's the author being careless and ignorant about the statements they're making with the conclusions their story draws. it's the author making those statements and conclusions based on just plain nasty beliefs. it's the author being dishonest about the story they're presenting. and it's the author wrecking the craft and structure of the story itself so they can throw a tantrum at the idea that you don't like their special little boy.

and none of that has anything to do with what the character 'deserves.'

Invalid reasons for why a character should not be redeemed:

They’re too evil! - Redemption has nothing to do with how good or evil you were to begin with.

They don’t deserve it! - Redemption is not something that can be “deserved.”

Their actions are unforgivable! - Redemption has nothing to do with forgiveness.

It’s too late for them to change! - It is only “too late” to choose redemption when a character is dead (unless the scope of the story includes an afterlife in which change is possible).

Valid reasons for why a character should not be redeemed:

It doesn’t fit the themes of the story.

They’re not an important enough character for showing the process of a redemption arc to be worthwhile.

They’re more interesting as a character who isn’t doing the right thing.

It’s more satisfying to let them keep being evil.

It makes it more satisfying when they die.

There’s probably more, but you get the idea.

Remember, redemption is when someone realizes they are wrong, and takes steps to doing the right thing. That is not something that can be “deserved,” it is not something that hinges on forgiveness, and it is not something that it is ever too late for! …Unless the person is dead or something.

[humanjarvis]

i'm sorry for scaring you

synopsis: caleb shows a new side of himself during one of your fights. it almost makes you believe he's changed.

tags: angst, suggestive (psychologically), fluff (sorta kinda), caleb kneels, caleb crawls, caleb is pathetic, caleb is overprotective and unwell pairing: farspace colonel!caleb x reader word count: 1.7k

a/n: this is angstier than i intended i wanted it to be hot, maybe it's still hot, when he tries to lock u up in his house but he has lethal booboo face ⬇

“I didn't ask for any of this! I didn’t ask for your protection, and I sure as hell don’t want it.”

“You not wanting it doesn’t change the fact that you need it,” Caleb replied blankly. 

In the four months since you’d reunited with Caleb in Skyhaven, your relationship had taken a hit. In the first few weeks, you’d barely seen each other; he’d stop by to check on you, assume you thought him the scum of the earth, and abruptly retreat back home. It wasn’t until you’d grown fed up with the awkwardness and uncertainty that you began approaching him again—asking him about his day, initiating phone calls, and even starting the rare video call, if he was lucky. 

Around the last month or so, things had gotten better. During your increasingly frequent visits, you’d gone out together several times—to see the new cyberpunk action movie, to window shop in the pet store, to marvel at the Skyhaven nightscape from the safety of his personal aircraft. Just as you thought you’d both been making progress adapting to your new dynamic, a wave of highly dangerous wanderers had infiltrated the city, and Caleb had had the nerve to essentially place you on house arrest until the threat was dealt with. Fast forward to now, his composure threatening to overpower your impassioned rebuttals. 

“Did you honestly think I’d let you leave right now?” he asked. “You’re here for a week. The Fleet will take the next couple of days to sort out the problem, and we can go out together when it’s done.”

“We can go out together. Right. So you can rush me back here the second someone looks at me the wrong way?”

“No one will look at you the wrong way. Not here. Not while you’re with me. But you need to understand, Pipsqueak: you came to Skyhaven for me. You’re in skyhaven for me. I won’t stand by and watch you put yourself in danger, and you won’t change my mind,” he replied, his large frame looming over you as he stepped closer. 

You’d had enough. You’d spent almost an hour on the losing side of this back-and-forth, and you were too exhausted to pull your punches anymore. “My first time seeing you after the explosion,” you started, voice trembling. “Do you know how it felt? When you stepped off that plane, when you interrogated me behaving like you never have in your life—I didn’t know what to think. But when you brought me back here? Started spewing off that shit about a world where my only world is you? I was scared, Caleb. I thought I’d needed to be afraid for you, but I was afraid of you. That you’d lock me in this house forever, that I'd only see the sun when you decided it wasn’t top bright for me. I was afraid that I’d die here having grown to hate the person I’d wanted to live for,” you finished, your words dripping with venom.

Seething, you spun around, ready to storm out of the kitchen and into the quiet of the guest room Caleb had remodeled for you. 

You’d taken three steps toward the door when you heard something hit the ground with a heavy thud. 

Body still facing the door, you stopped in your tracks. This was new. Unexpected. You’d been prepared to hear a few calls of your name, some “Wait!”s, maybe even a “Don't walk away from me.” Worst case, you’d expected him to pin you in place with his Evol, preventing your exit and prolonging your fight. 

But a thud? A thud could mean many things. Enough things for you to remain frozen contemplating the possibilities before the voice in the back of your head broke through your thoughts, reminding you of the very real chance that you’d spiked Caleb's blood pressure so much that he’d fainted.

The fear that he was hurt made you finally turn around, only for Caleb to catch you off guard yet again.

Caleb the Loathsome, the overprotective, obsessive, now cold-blooded colonel of the Farspace Fleet, was on the floor before you. Kneeling.

All at once, your anger dissipated, melting into shock at the assertive man before you’s sudden display of submission. 

Realizing you’d turned around, Caleb lifted his head, meeting your flustered expression with his pained one. His furrowed brows, shining eyes, and pouted lips—he looked pitiful, honestly. And as much as it tugged at your heartstrings, it awakened something dormant inside you. 

It made you feel powerful. It gave you an idea. 

Biting the inside of your bottom lip, you took several steps toward Caleb’s kneeling form, closing the distance you'd been so eager to put between you all of ten minutes ago. A slight gasp escaped Caleb at your movement, and he swiftly lowered his gaze back to the floor, as if worried that daring to watch your approaching form would make you retreat. 

When you came to a stop, you were just in front of his knees, looking down your nose at his bowed head. For a few moments, Caleb’s heavy breaths were the only sounds between you, thickening the cold air in the room. 

Then, finally—finally—you touched him, lifting his chin up before resting your palm on his cheek. At your touch, he leaned forward, nuzzling his head against your thigh. 

“…You want this that bad, huh? Want me that bad?”

“More than anything,” he breathed. 

You stared at him. 

“Please,” he whispered, turning his head into your hand to brush his lips across your fingers. 

At this, you hummed softly, running your thumb across his cheek twice before turning away from him once more. When you break contact, Caleb freezes in the midst of rubbing his face on your leg, his eyes popping open in panic. He only calms when he sees you heading for the armchair tucked into the right back corner of the room, slowly taking a seat, your legs spread. 

“Relax,” you call out, settling in your chair. He didn’t move a muscle.

You decided you’d had enough of the tense silence after a few more beats. It was time to test him.

“…Come here, Caleb.”

In an instant, his head snapped up. His gaze, abruptly ending its budding relationship with the floor tiles, held yours for more than a few seconds this time, your slight smirk challenging his slight disbelief.

Caleb had all the cunning in the world. Since joining the Fleet, nothing got by him—and on the rare chance that it did, he’d chase it down and make it beg for mercy. He was a prideful man. He was a calculated man. So when you called for him in your sweet voice, slightly breathy with unadmitted nerves, he figured you out quite quickly. 

You were testing him—to see if he’d walk or crawl to you—and he knew it. 

And unfortunately for his dignity, any reservation he held about the latter was overshadowed by his desire for you: to be in your space, to breathe your air, to be close enough to feel you—even if he rarely did now, out of fear that his touch would repulse you.

He needed you to need him. So he crawled. 

Inch by inch, Caleb crawled toward you, the only person who would ever see him reduced to this. The only person who could reduce him to this. And all the while, as the fabric of his dark pants dragged across the floor, his violet eyes never left yours. In them, you saw resignation. You saw anticipation. You saw the shattered remnants of a pride that he’d let be broken, and you saw them rebuild themselves in lust the closer he came.

A few inches away from you, Caleb stops, sitting demurely on his heels. His hands twitch in hesitation before falling into his lap. His vulnerability is palpable, and you can feel him banishing himself back to his hell of self-deprecation, the guilt-eroded space in his mind where he repeats how little he deserves you. Before he can lower his gaze again, you beckon him upwards,  guiding his palms to rest on your knees. His kneeling form almost equals your seated one in height.

“I used to love watching you scare off the boys who were mean to me,” you tell him, placing your palm back on his cheek. “But as much as I like you intimidating, this little act might be my new favorite.” 

His nervous breaths come to a momentary halt before he brightens slightly, chasing your touch. He nuzzles into your palm like he did your leg earlier, and you sigh. 

“You scared me, Caleb,” you murmur. 

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“I know you want to keep me safe, that you have kept me safe for as long as either of us can remember,” you say, continuing to stroke his head. “But I don’t want to be afraid of you, Caleb. I won't be afraid of you. So if you want to keep doing this, if you want us to move on, if you want me—it can’t happen again. Tell me it won’t happen again.”

Your movements still as you tighten your grip on his jaw, forcing him to meet your eyes. A grimace flashes across his face as he goes quiet for a moment. But you wait for him. You have to. As exhilarating as it’d been to see him crawl before you, this was the true test—if you extend your trust, will he extend his lenience? You have to believe that he will. To give him the chance to. 

And as you’re wrapped up in your optimism, your fantasies that he’ll acquiesce and let your relationship go back to normal, Caleb responds. 

“...I’m sorry for scaring you.”