#this will be my go to response when I feel like it

[plaidcowboy]

છ rafe’s not the jealous type

“man, where’s the rest of it, huh?” rafe brought the bottle to his lips, knocking back the rest of its contents, setting it down on the table beside him.

he looked over to the guy that spoke. he didn’t feel like playing with the guy, so he cut to it. “you see anymore than that?”

the guy’s gaze turned from you to rafe. he chuckled hesitantly. “nah.. that’s what i’m liking” he smirked.

“i like it too.. i told her it looks pretty before we made our way out” rafe watched you mingle with others, giggling at what someone told you.

the guy stilled. “oh.. didn’t know that was yours.. didn’t know she was anyone’s being out looking like that” he tried to keep up the bro talk.

rafe shrugged. “she’s wearing what she wants to” rafe responded, bored of the conversation. he had no problem with any revealing clothes you may wear. you liked it. rafe liked whatever you liked, sometimes even more than you. that’s all there was to it.

“i would just watch out for guys that’ll look.. i know i am” he kept up the smirk.

rafe shook his head, amused with the guy. “look, sure, i know how good she looks. you wouldn’t be able to do anything else”

rafe grinned as you turned a little to show off your dress to someone. why not show it off? he was proud when you flaunted yourself because you deserved it if it wasn’t coming from him.

he was used to people commenting on your looks and making suggestive comments. people admire pretty things, it’s nothing new. you were all his pretty thing. no one else’s.

touching though, was something else. you wouldn’t mess with a pretty painting at a gallery. it’s disrespectful to the owner.

he avoided violence in front of you. and what better way to solve disputes than with words instead of fists.

“that wasn’t so respectful, was it? to me or her”

they would shake their heads silently.

“right.. so it’s only right you apologize. it made her uncomfortable, and i don’t like that. a sorry would make her feel better”

they would stutter. “uh.. i’m sorry..”

“nah” rafe would suck his teeth, shaking his head. “repeat after me.. ma’am, it was disrespectful of me to touch something so pretty i wasn’t worthy of touching.. i’ll be more respectful towards women”

they would relay the apology.

rafe would turn to you, waiting for your forgiveness or rejection. whichever you felt, rafe did as well. it wasn’t his position to choose for you, he wasn’t the lady who received unwanted interactions. he knew this, so how these situations would go was always up to you.

you would look up at rafe, speaking to him rather than the other person. “it’s okay”

rafe would look at them. “say thank you”

or

you would look up at rafe, softly shaking your head.

rafe would look at the guy. “i don’t accept either. get out of her face.”

you skipped over to rafe and he slightly bent down, ready to hear whatever you seemed excited to share.

“rafe, this girl just called my dress pretty” you said, giddily, twisting yourself and the dress.

rafe smiled. “did she? that’s nice of her..”

rafe looked at the guy. “you have anything to say about the dress?”

you turned to the guy expectantly, excited to receive another compliment.

“uh..” the guy shook his head, suddenly awkward. “nah”

rafe frowned. “nah man, you just had so much to say” rafe didn’t repeat his words, not wanting to upset you. whenever he could keep you from hearing the unsettling comments made about you, he would. nothing could dim your happiness when you were with him.

the guy glanced away, scoffing.

“why don’t you just apologize. save her from getting mad at you”

the guy rolled his eyes. “nah man, i’m good..” rafe stopped him, grabbing his arm when he tried to walk away.

“that wasn’t a request”

the guy gulped, glancing over at you. “look, my bad..”

rafe tsk’d, shaking his head. he gave him the prompt, telling him to repeat the words. he did, and rafe turned to you, awaiting your response.

you looked up at rafe with eyes. “um.. should i?” you weren’t ever aware what the guy said after all.

“nah, baby, that’s all up to you”

you glanced between the two in front of you. “it’s fine”

rafe turned to the guy.

“say thank you.”

[poguelandiarafe]

you’re my person - rafe cameron

pairing - rafe cameron x bsf!reader

warnings - fluff, mature language

summary - rafe’s your person, your best friend. so when you feel the need to rant to him early in the morning, you won’t hesitate to kick out the girl in his bed to get his attention. (i’ve just watched the first episode of grey’s anatomy s11 and thought of this)

masterlist

————

it’s not even sunrise yet, but you find yourself unlocking rafe’s door with the spare key. letting yourself in has become second nature now, knowing exactly where the key is; under the plant pot next to the front door, which probably isn’t the best place. you head straight to his room, knowing the layout of his house like the back of your hand.

it’s peaceful, the only sound being the birds chirping and occasional creaky floorboard. you push open his door, unfazed when you see blonde hair spilling onto the pillow, a girl curled into rafe’s side, barely visible underneath the covers.

“great,” you mutter, moving closer to the bed, “come on princess, up you get.”

when neither of them stir, you try again, loudly smacking your hands against the bed for added effect.

“let’s go, come on. get up.”

the girl stirs, rolling over onto her side to face you. her eyes go as wide as saucers when she sees you standing over her, eyebrows raised and arms folded over your chest.

“who the fuck are you?” she asks, instinctively pulling the covers up to her neck to hide herself.

“doesn’t matter,” you wave your hand dismissively, “get up. you need to leave.”

at the sound of voices, rafe is pulled out of his deep sleep. he groans against the pillow, instantly recognising your voice as the cause.

“what time is it?” his voice is muffled as he speaks into the pillow, “and what’re you doing here?”

“wait, you know her?”

you quickly check your phone, ignoring her, “it’s six. anyway, rafe, i need to talk to you. she needs to leave.”

the girl sits up, not understanding what’s going on. she’s surprised rafe is so calm about someone being in his house, especially this early in the morning.

“rafe…” she whines, shoving his arm for some sort of backup.

“uh, yeah you should probably go.” he mumbles, voice still thick with sleep.

“excuse me?” she sputters, eyes flickering between the two of you, “it is six in the morning!”

“sorry.” rafe says, not sounding sincere in the slightest.

a scoff leaves her lips as she dramatically throws the covers off her and grabs her things, slamming the door on her way out.

before slipping into the spot she just left, you can’t help but double check something.

“are you naked under there?”

“no, underwear is on.” he confirms, giving you a half-arsed thumbs up.

“okay, good.” you laugh, pulling back the covers and climbing in.

once you’re comfortable, rafe rolls onto his side, lazily throwing his arm over your waist and resting his head on your chest. sleep keeps threatening to pull him back under, but he doesn’t let it, knowing something must be on your mind for you to come over this early.

“it’s so early, y/n. i was sleeping.” he complains, blinking up at you in annoyance.

“i know but i need to talk to you,” you reply firmly, already knowing how to get back in his good books, “you’re kinda my person. plus, if you let me rant about it i’ll make you waffles… and i’ll let you sleep on me for a while considering i woke you up and you look super comfy?”

“okay deal. what’s wrong?”

you launch into your rant, rafe letting you know he’s somewhat listening by humming every so often and mumbling out responses when you ask him something.

“i can’t believe you.” rafe cuts in when you take a breath.

“what?” you ask, confused.

“you come to my house at the crack of dawn to rant about some girl gossip and how you’re not sure who’s side to be on.” he huffs out a laugh, unable to find it in him to be too annoyed at you.

“like i said, you’re my person, who else was i gonna go to?” you argue, “plus, you have no idea what it’s been like. it’s like a cat fight everyday, at least with you i won’t get my head bitten off.”

you feel him smile against your skin at the reminder of being ‘your person’, knowing how much he loves it even if he doesn’t admit it out loud.

“i was about ready to bite your head off when you barged into my room at six o’clock.” rafe joked, playfully squeezing your waist.

grinning, you nod your head in agreement, “that’s totally fair.”

[rafescorpsebride]

Rafe spitting in your mouth…

CW: Pure smut. Blow job, pussy slapping, daddy kink, unprotected sex, spitting.

The noise was overwhelming but his secure hold kept you grounded. His fingers brushed your skin underneath your sleeve, he often leaned down to whisper in your ear and gently pressed his lips against you when telling you someone’s name.

You felt awkward since this wasn’t your scene but the drink from the cup you held in your hand relaxed you and you even managed a few words in response to others.

But your core fluttered the more you looked him and enjoyed his touch. As you walked down the hallway, you snatched your phone from his pocket with a giggle. Rafe gasped and wrestled your arms above your head with one hand while his other slid down to your hip.

“Bad girl. Now you gotta pay up.” He whispered before pressing his lips to yours, mouth parted in a deep kiss. You moaned and your leg lifts to wrap around his waist. He lifts you up, your arms go around his neck as he opens his room door.

Your tongue massages his before he sucks it, laying you down on the bed and he pulls back. Your phone back in his palm and he heatedly stares at you. “Now I’m gonna find out the dirty things you keep in here. And then we’re gonna make our own little video.”

Rafe opens your phone and groans when he opens your photos. Seeing all your pictures, ones you never thought anyone would see. He down at you, “take off your pants, panties too. And give them to me.”

You listen to him, peeling them both off and you toss your lace material thong to him. The soaked middle crumples in his fingers as he brings them to his mouth. He licks them, his other hand reaching inside his boxers as he tugs himself.

“No, that’s not fair-“ You whine as your legs part, your cunt pulsing as you watch him stroking his dick.

“Uh uh. You stay there. And I’ll decide when you get to touch me. I wanna watch you get all worked up.” You shake your head, lifting your body and you tangle your hands in his shirt. You slam your lips to his and bite down. He makes a noise of surprise before he gives in and returns the kiss.

You use your momentum to sink to your knees and he mumbles, “Fuck. You wanna suck my dick? Eager little slut huh?” You take off his underwear, wasting no time before wrapping your hand around his cock and licking the side.

His hand steadily sets on your head and he pulls your hair. “That’s my fuckin girl.” He rolls his head back as you take his tip in your mouth, sucking him softly but he thrusts his hips.

You take him further down your mouth, stroking him at the same time with your hands on his soft skin before you focus attention on his balls, licking them before sucking between your lips.

“God damn, pretty girl. Fuckin choking on daddy’s dick like a whore?” He cums in your mouth and it leaks from the corners as he tugs your head back. Slapping his cock against your tongue before he pushes you on the bed.

Rafe shoves your legs apart, giving your pussy a slap and you whine. “Covered in my cum and making sweet sounds from me slapping your pussy?”

He slams into you, balls slapping against your ass as he wraps a hand around your throat. “Shittt, princess. So tight around me-the fuck were you bein so selfish for? Keeping this pussy from me?”

You whimper and your hands reach up to dig in his shoulders.

“I want you to fuckin talk, baby. You gotta make me hear how good I’m making you feel.” Rafe’s rhythm is hard and rough as the headboard moves against the wall.

“Mmm-I-“ You try and he shakes his head.

“Use. Your. Words.” He growls.

“Fuck, I want you to spit in my mouth. Please!” You squeak from his grip and he breathes heavier.

“Earn it then. Beg me. Earn me treating you like the pathetic, greedy slut you are.” He taunts and you whimper.

“You’re-the slut-you fucking perv.” You fire back, ripping off his hat and you wrap your legs around his hips. Bringing him impossibly closer. “You fucked yourself to me-more than once. I know it. How’s that for earning it?”

Rafe spits in your mouth before sucking your lip and you cry against his kiss. Creaming on his cock as it gives him more control, you swallow it and your eyes roll back as he cums in you. His seed fills you up, dripping down his dick as he fucks you through it. Making you jolt from aftershock, but he shows no sign of slowing down.

“Open your eyes, baby girl. I want you to ride my fuckin face. I wanna taste that perfect pussy.”

@hopelessfawn @sturnioloshacker @rafesheaven @oceanblvd111 @oceandriveab @eddiesxangel @stillwjk-channie-lixie @rafescvntyclubgf @cameronsprincess @hornyxdreams

[simpjaes]

you need to continue that jayhoon for my mental sanity PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

continuation of this. or, the one where Jay really wants to bottom for sunghoon since he can never find a girl, so...he does.

Warnings: they fuck this time, as in, dude on dude. cock in butt. anal sex. two dicks in the frame.

IF YOU HAVE AN ISSUE WITH SHIP FICS OR MXM THAT'S FINE. Don't hate on me because i like to have fun with fiction. none of this is real, and no, i don't ship them in real life.

-

Sunghoon's knees press into the bed as he perches himself above his friend. Never has he seen Jay from this angle, nor has he even seen him this vulnerable, this naked, this...sexy. He stares down at his cock in hand, aimed right at Jay's ass and bites the inside of his cheek. Finally, he's getting to fuck something. Someone. And he doesn't find himself disappointed that the person is not a woman. Instead, he's...excited?

Jay's voice rings out in heavy breaths, wiggling his ass in front of Sunghoon, furrowing his brows, huffing and puffing out of frustration. "Are you gonna-" He starts, but inhales mid-sentence at the feeling of his friend's bulbous cockhead pressing at his entrance. God, Jay has fucking dreamed of this day. Especially after always watching Sunghoon wander around with that huge fucking cock of his, heavy, always yearning to be inside of someone.

There's a pit somewhere in his stomach about the consequences of this. Taking advantage of Sunghoon's need to fuck is one thing, but it's not like Jay did anything other than offer himself up as a fuck-doll. Doing this, at the end of the day, was Sunghoon's own choice. And if Jay's the one who ends up hurting at the end of it, in more way than just one, so fucking be it. "Jesu- fuck. Jay," Sunghoon seethes in near amazement, holding his breath at how he tries to push his cock inside. There was prep, of course, albeit by Jay himself as Sunghoon watched and took mental notes. Right there on the bed, Jay had bent over shyly, licking and sucking on his fingers just to slide them inside of himself. On fucking display. Sunghoon was surprised his cock didn't soften at the image of his own friend doing this. The same friend who did gross manly things around him. The same one who always looks and acts like a fucking slob when he's comfortable. Sunghoon watched as Jay's cock grew harder with each slide of his own fingers too, and that...was very attractive to him. Such a clean looking hole Jay has, warm and pulsing around his fingers, as wet as any pussy would be if Sunghoon ever managed to land one to fuck. And his cock, equally as clean, thick, pulsing just like his own was. Sunghoon wasn't sure what it was about all of this that made him feel like he's going insane, but he also didn't really care. It's that fact that now...he's feeling fucking floored. "It's so, so tight." Sunghoon finally finishes his sentence, jerking his hips to try and stuff another half-inch of his length inside of his friend. "Doesn't it hurt?" Jay just moans in response, his ass clenching with each push, but he relishes in the stretch as always. Given, this is also the first time he's ever actually bottomed for a man. Which, that's not something Sunghoon has to know unless, well, he asks. Truly, as a bisexual man, Jay always found himself on top but wondering how good it must feel to get fucked open by a sexy, well-hung man. He's played with himself and toys alike countless times wondering how good it must be to have something warm, something pulsing inside of him. And now, he's getting to experience it. Does it hurt? Yes. "Deeper." Jay mutters, pressing himself back and forcing more into himself, listening closely to the way Sunghoon keeps holding his breath, struggling to hold in his moans. And by the time he's finally bottomed out, Jay is entirely cross-eyed, much like Sunghoon who sits in place and doesn't dare move out of fear that he'll not only hurt his friend, but himself with how fucking tight Jay is. It's kind of...heavenly. Divine, in a way, to fuck your best friend's ass open solely because both of you needed something the other could offer. Sunghoon finds himself smirking now, staring at the back of Jay's head and wanting to reach forward and grab a handful of hair. If just to hear him release those slutty moans again, if just to know that Jay wants him like this. That he doesn't feel weird, or awkward. That Sunghoon's cock feels so good in him, that he will be his bitch of a girlfriend is he so wanted him to be. "I can't get any deeper, Jay." Sunghoon mutters, doing just as he pleases and absolutely grabbing a handful of his hair, craning Jay's neck back and forcing him to make strained eye contact. "You know I'm never gonna look at you the same way again, right?" He adds now, pulling his hips back slightly to test the pain of it, only to shiver in pleasure and slam his cock back in.

What shocks Sunghoon more than Jay's feminine and stuttered moan at that, well, is the fact that it's making him forget that they're both still men. They both still have strength that rivals the other, so upon that first harsh thrust, feeling Jay press himself up, twisting himself just enough to brush his lips against Sunghoon's chin-

Yeah. It's a little shocking that Sunghoon finds himself dipping his head, kissing Jay for the first time, fucking him for the first time, entirely enamored with what he has to offer. And that's how it goes, he supposes. Fucking into Jay like he would anyone else, only feeling the tight heat strangle his cock more than any cunt could. It gets to the point where Sunghoon feels his brain hit a wall, wanting the man under him so fucking badly. To the point he wants the eye contact, he wants to fucking see how Jay takes it. He flips them over, now lying flat on his back with a deep rumbled moan.

"Can you ride?" Sunghoon nearly sputters, feeling the way Jay bounces immediately as if to prove a point. His hair falling in his eyes with each bounce, mouth slack as he huffs out little groans and high pitched breaths. Goddamn. He can ride.

[natashashill]

desperate times, desperate measures

pairing: older!agatha x reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: 18+ overstimulatuon, handcuffs, spreader bar, blindfold, one pussy spank, strap, shower sex, praise & degradation, aftercare

a/n: this was high key inspired by @lunargrrrl & her work with director!agatha so everyone say thank you

summary: reader sends agatha scandalous pictures and agatha deals with her

You were needy.

To your defense,you started off bored. However, there was very little that you could do without Agatha. This evolved to your current state of neediness, although you knew Agatha wouldn’t appreciate being disturbed while she worked. You tried to distract yourself, heading out into the pool and letting yourself lounge, but your thoughts quickly centered around Agatha joining you. So you did the next logical thing, you let yourself dry off before sitting on one of the chairs and picking up your phone. You opened up the camera and aligned your body in a way that was more promiscuous than you could claim innocence for, your wet tits on display through your smaller than necessary swimsuit. 

Agatha quickly hearted your message, although she was in the middle of an important meeting. It wasn’t until she got out of her meeting and back in her office that she fully saw what you had sent her, along with a few others that you happened to send. 

She sent you a warning text, advising you against teasing but when have you ever listened to her. So exactly an hour before she was supposed to come home, you send some more pictures except they’re you naked in bed  wrapped in her sheets. Agatha had to place her phone down at that and decided to leave an hour early, hoping to catch you off guard.

And off guard she caught you. Agatha had barely any rules when it came to your dynamic. The first was for you to not disobey her when she instructs you to do something. The second was that you’re not allowed to touch yourself or come without her permission. It was quite a lovely surprise to walk back home and see you spread out in her bed with your hand rubbing frantically at your clit, desperate for an orgasm. She doesn’t move, enjoying your performance as you can barely make yourself come. Eventually, she decided to take some pity on you and make herself known.

“Well look what we have here. My little brat decided to break my rules. For what? You can’t even make yourself cum, how pathetic.”

Your eyes widened as you realized she was standing right in front of you, and you slowly pulled your hand away from your core. She looks down at you while watching you squirm underneath her harsh gaze.

“I’m going to give you a deal since I’m in a forgiving mood. I’m going to leave you here with the vibrator and finish my work, if you take it like the good girl that I know you are, I’ll fuck you with the strap.”

You slowly nod as she rummages through the bedside table drawers, grabbing a vibrator, a handcuffs, a blindfold, a spreader bar, and a dildo. You accept your fate when she goes to bind your hands and feet together leaving you spread out and perfectly out of control for her. She ties the blindfold, and slowly starts placing kisses all the way down your body. She leaves some bites at your inner thighs, her tongue swirling around afterwards to ease the sensation. Her tongue takes one swipe up your dripping core before pulling away. You let out a pitiful moan at that, but she slaps your core in response. 

“Alright baby, I’m going to go do my work now. If you need to stop, call out your safe word otherwise I don’t want to hear anything coming out of your mouth.”

At that, Agatha turns vibrator on high and leaves it angled directly at your clit before tying it to you, so you can’t escape it. Your hips jolt upwards at the sudden intensity, but you can’t escape the feeling.

She chuckles and exits the room. She felt a little bit bad about leaving you alone, but she did have to finish her work. She leaves her door completely open, making sure she can hear everything from the bedroom. She takes the time to respond to her emails, slowly dragging out each one as she keeps an eye on the clock. When she decides you’ve had enough, she first makes her way into the kitchen, bringing back some items that she knows you’ll want after this is over.

Coming back into the bedroom, she can’t take her eyes off of you. Your back is arching off the bed, there’s tears streaming down your face, your pussy is leaking all your juices onto the sheets, and your hands are gripping the bed sheets. Agatha goes to untie the vibrator from you, letting your clit take a break. She goes to put on the stap, an 8 inch dildo that she brings out on very rare occasions. She runs her fingers through your wetness once, before lining up her dildo to your entrance.

“You’re going to take me so well, aren’t you baby? Mommy’s going to fuck your greedy pussy now, since that’s what you were begging for weren’t you. You wanted to cum baby. Aren’t I such a good mommy letting you come so many times, even though you absolutely don’t deserve to.”

You do your best to nod but no words come to your head right now. She chooses this exact moment to start fucking you, and all your thoughts fly out the window.

“No words baby? Did you get so dumb that you can’t speak after a few orgasms? Is that all it takes for your head to go empty?”

She continues pounding into you, and your eyes roll back, your pussy is throbbing with all the stimulation but you never want her to stop fucking you. However, your mommy was never that nice. When your thighs start to shake, she pulls out of you, ignoring your pitiful whines.

“Oh my poor baby, did you want me to keep going? I wasn’t sure because you never said anything. You know good girls need to ask mommy before they cum.”

“I’m sorry mommy. Please let me come, I promise I’ll be good, you’re the best mommy ever.”

She chuckles at that before entering you again, and this time she sets an unforgiving pace. 

“Such a good girl for me, taking me so beautifully. I can’t stop fucking your pussy baby, you’ve got me hooked baby.”

You let out a moan at that, breathing out Agatha’s name while she continues to go deeper inside, claiming all parts of you. 

“Mommy please, I want you so bad. Need you to fill me up please. I just want you.”

She can’t hide her appreciation for that, letting out a moan and fucking you faster, desperate to make you cum. It doesn’t take much longer, and you’re coming again. Agatha fucks you through your orgasming, watching the way you react so keenly. She’s obsessed with you, and she doesn’t know how to stop herself from falling deeper. A whimper from you shakes her out of her thoughts and she delicately pulls out, letting you start to settle down. 

She throws the strap somewhere near the bathroom, choosing to focus on you. She immediately unties you, allowing you to finally move again. What she didn’t expect was for you to wrap your arms around her, enveloping Agatha into a hug. She hugs you just as tight while lowering you back onto the bed, wanting you to take some much needed rest. She quickly turns over to present you with some snacks and water, guiding the straw of the bottle to you, while trying to figure out which of the snacks you find most appealing. She settles for some grapes and goldfish, and feeds them to you while you happily lean against her chest, exhausted after the day’s events. She presses gentle kisses to your face, hoping to show just how much she loves and cares for you. When you’ve had enough, you’re nuzzling closer into her and Agatha just laughs. 

“Not yet baby girl. Let’s go take a shower and I’ll let you sleep all you want.”

You reluctantly follow her into the shower, she gently guides you inside, before stripping herself of her work clothes and joining you. You smile at her when you realize she’s joining you, and she affectionately rubs your cheek with her knuckles. You let your muscles enjoy the hot water, feeling yourself relax. 

You take the opportunity of her being distracted to get on your knees in front of her. You place your hands on her upper thighs and she lets out a moan when she realizes what you’re up to. 

“Such a good girl for me. You make mommy feel so good baby, don’t stop. You’re doing perfectly angel.”

Her praise spurs you on, your tongue eagerly twisting and sucking where she needs you. It doesn't take her long to finish, her hands finding themselves in your hair and you eagerly lap up all her juices, enjoying the way she tastes. 

She pulls you back from her core trying to get you to stop, “That’s enough baby, you did good for mommy. No more honey, mommy’s sensitive.”

You smile up at her before standing again, and pull her in a kiss, to which she eagerly kisses back. She lets you lead the kiss, enjoying how sweet you are, before she pulls away to get you out of the shower. 

She lets you pick out some of her clothes to wear and sits you down in front of the TV while she makes dinner for the two of you.

“Hey sweetheart?”

“Yes mommy?”

“Next time you’re going to show off for me, lose the bikini honey.”

You look up from your plate as she shoots you a wink, and you’re just as desperate for her again.

tag list: @morbidlcve

[moonlightrafe]

Buckle Bunny ✮⋆˙ ℧ ⋆₊˚⊹♡

summary: The new girl in town gives Topper a run for his money and Rafe meets his match.

pairing: Cowboy!Rafe x Reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: alcohol consumption, semi-public sex, p in v, squirting, creampie 18+ MDNI

note: tagging some moots I feel comfy with bc I feel like my Rafe posts get no traction 😅 @angelspitxx @rafescorpsebride @rafeysbangs @rafesheaven no pressure to read just trying to put myself out there *runs away*

It is a warm Friday night and the annual rodeo was the biggest event of the summer, according to your cousin, Kie. She made it clear you couldn’t miss it.

Being well-versed in rodeo yourself, you take her word for it and check it out. You’re not exactly sure how North Carolina will hold a candle to Texas rodeo, but you decide to go anyway. You pull on your boots, pair them with your tightest fitting denim shorts, and make your way to the fairgrounds. You show up late, but try to enjoy yourself anyway, you just wanted to get a taste, anyway.

The smell of hay and barbecue fill the air, blending with the sounds of laughter and the sharp crack of bullwhips — it reminds you of home.

You take it all in as you stroll past booths selling cowboy hats and fried food. You aren’t quite sure what to expect, but when you spot the bronc riders preparing for their turn, your curiosity gets the best of you.

The large crowd erupts into cheers as the announcer introduces the final rider of the night: Rafe Cameron, apparently a local legend. Your eyes were drawn to him immediately. Tall, broad-shouldered, confident. He climbs onto the massive bucking bronco as if it were nothing. His hat sits low over his piercing blue eyes, and his smirk is unforgettable.

When the gate swings open, the horse explodes into the arena, and Rafe moves with it like he was born for this. You catch herself gripping the railing, holding your breath as he stays on for the full eight seconds– you couldn’t deny you were impressed.

The buzzer sounds, and the crowd goes wild. He tips his hat to the audience before hopping off the bronc, completely unfazed.

After the show, you end up wandering over to the food trucks, hoping to grab something to eat before heading over to the local dive. To your surprise, the cowboy from earlier, Rafe, is there, leaning casually against a truck while talking to a few friends. You freeze for a moment, debating whether to approach him, but before you can make up your mind, one of Rafe’s friends—a loud, blond guy named Topper—spots you.

“Well, look at this,” Topper drawls, a sly smirk etched onto his face, “a little Buckle Bunny comin’ to meet the star of the show.”

Your cheeks burn with anger, "buckle bunny” isn’t exactly a compliment.

“Excuse me?” you shoot back, your arms crossed over your chest.

Rafe turns, his blue eyes locking onto yours. His smirk vanishing as his gaze moves to Topper, “knock it off, Top.”

Topper just laughs in response.

“What? I’m just saying—”

“You’re done,” Rafe cuts him off sharpy, stepping closer to you. “Sorry ‘bout that, he’s an idiot.”

You lift your chin, attempting to play it cool.

“S’alright, I can handle myself,” you purr, “just wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

Rafe’s eyes beam at you, “Well? What’d ya think?”

“Not bad,” you reply, letting a small smile slip through, “but this ain’t my first rodeo, I’ve seen better.”

The guys around him erupt into laughter, and even Rafe can’t help but chuckle at you.

“Alright, new girl,” he says, tipping his hat to you, “you’ve got my attention. What’s your name?”

“y/n,” you reply.

“Well, miss y/n,” he said, his voice softening, “I’ll make sure you get a proper tour—minus the idiots.”

He says this, shooting a look at Topper, who just rolls his eyes.

“We’re all headin’ over to the dive bar right down the road if you care to join.”

“Yeah, I was headin’ over that way anyway, I’ll hop in my truck and head out.”

Rafe raises an eyebrow at you.

“You got your own truck?”

“Mhm, I got my own horse too, and I’m a hell of a ride.”

✮⋆˙ ℧ ⋆₊˚⊹♡ ✮⋆˙ ℧ ⋆₊˚⊹♡ ✮⋆˙ ℧

The divebar is small, but extremely lively. From across the way you can see Rafe being congratulated, you watch him intently as you sip on your drink.

You can’t help but notice that the mechanical bull is starting up, and you figure this is your chance to show your skills off to Rafe and his friends.

You saunter up to the bull with a grin, making sure the boys, especially Rafe, see you throw your jacket off and pull your hair up into a ponytail.

The operator gives you a nod, cranking up the controls as you swing your leg over the make-shift saddle.

“Hold on tight, buckle bunny,” Topper calls, his voice laced with venom.

As the buzzer sounds, the bull lurches forward. Clenching your thighs and moving with it, you allow muscle memory and pure determination to take over. It spins, bucks, and attempts with all it’s might to to throw you off but you hold on for you dear life.

As your gaze meets Rafe’s you can’t shy away from thinking how it would feel to have him bucking underneath you. Rolling your hips in sync with the machine, wetness pools at your core.

Down girl, focus.

Your thoughts were interrupted as the crowd began to cheer, the bull beginning to slow down: you did it!

The cowboys all went quiet, their smirks fading as you swung off the bull with ease, landing successfully on your feet.

✮⋆˙ ℧ ⋆₊˚⊹♡ ✮⋆˙ ℧ ⋆₊˚⊹♡ ✮⋆˙ ℧

After that, you find yourself in the grimy, dimly-lit bathroom catching your breath when you hear the door creak open.

“That was quite the show,” Rafe says as he comes in, locking the door behind him.

Your cheeks feel hot as you meet his gaze in the mirror.

“Told ya I knew how to ride,” you say with a smirk.

“You’re dangerous, y’know that?” He whispers, coming up behind you, pressing himself into you.

“Definitely not a ‘buckle bunny,’ you’re the real deal… but a little tease like you makes me wanna lose control.”

You can feel his ever-growing bulge beneath his jeans, taunting you with what’s to come.

His calloused fingers glide underneath your shirt and across the smooth skin of your stomach. Your body trembles, eagerly awaiting his next move. Rafe leans in close, his stubble grazing your cheek, “you want me to take for a real ride?”

“Mhm,” is all you’re able to get out as you bite harshly on your bottom lip.

Rafe’s hands grab your hair, tilting your head back, exposing your neck. His tongue tracing a path up from your jaw to your ear, sending a chill down your spine.

He eagerly spins you around and bends you over the sink countertop. You assist in unbuttoning your jeans as he slides them down your legs with experienced quickness, your panties following suit.

His hands caress your ass cheeks before delving into your soft pussy, coating his fingers with your arousal. You moan loudly, bracing yourself against the counter.

“Spread those legs wide for me, babydoll,” he orders, his breath hot on your neck. You comply eagerly, feeling the cool air hit your most sensitive spot.

Rafe takes no time undoing his belt, eagerly ripping his jeans down and pulling his already-hard cock out from the restraint of his boxer briefs.

He guides himself up to your entrance and slowly pushes the throbbing head of his cock inside of you. You gasp as he fills you inch by inch, until there’s nothing left to take.

A loud groan erupts from your chest as his thickness stretches your walls, making you bite your lip to keep from screaming. Rafe grips tightly at your hips as he begins to move, picking up speed with each thrust. He sets a punishing pace, slamming into you with such force that the counter digs into your flesh. He grunts with every thrust, breathing heavily through gritted teeth.

Your moans echo off the walls as he fucks you mercilessly, driving you closer to the edge with every stroke. Your cunt tightens around his pounding cock, squeezing him deeper as you feel pressure begin to build in your belly.

Within seconds you’re pushing Rafe out, squirting all over him and the floor.

He all but roars in response, in this moment in time his attraction to you is primal, animalistic.

“Fuck!!” he cries as he slams himself back inside of you, his pace quicker than before as he reaches his own release. With one final surge deep inside of you, he groans loudly as cum fills your pulsing pussy.

You feel so empty as pulls out, leaving you dripping, wet, and shaking. You look at each other for a moment, both catching your breath as a sly smile appears on Rafe’s face.

“Well, little bunny… I think I’ve finally met my match.”

[vmlnrzmp4]

nsfw

cw: reader's first time going full way, 3 different positions, porn w plot, no use of condom(don't be silly, wrap the willy.) a/n: i usually don't give cw, trying to keep the smut a surprise. i have proof read it, but i think there might be some errors. feel free to correct me.

the air around was charged as the shuffling, heavy pants and moans filled the room. it was another one of kaiser's and yours pathetic dry humping session.

his head leaning on the head-rest while his hands gripped your hips, urging your movements to go faster and faster and faster—till the both of you come undone.

you leaned in to rest your head on his shoulder, the room filling with exhausted panting.

"so good angel," he kissed your temple, "so good."

but a word taunted you in your head. you faced him, meeting your eyes with his, "mihya...am i boring?"

"what are you saying angel?" he raised his eyebrow, clearly confused where that came from, "if this is about sex then no, you're not boring."

it had happened a day ago. you had gone out with your friends. sitting in a public cafe, talking about each other's sex life without a care, shamelessly—no matter how many people stared in surprise and disgust.

shortly after you and your friends were kicked out, the first thing they did was to drag you into a pharmacy. they told you to not to worry about the prescription. you wordlessly agree, taking the small rectangular box of birth control pills—so that you can stop with the boring sex life as your friends described it.

was it boring? sure you and your boyfriend never went any further that that and orals. but so lost in enjoying them, you never thought it would be considered boring and you got self conscious. what if he thinks like them? you worried.

"hey," kaiser cradled your face, his voice so gentle, "where did that come from?"

"tell me," you asked firmly, "do you ever wish to go further than this?"

"all the fucking time," he answered without hesitation, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, the lovely guesture contrast to his lewd words.

the silence that followed didn't take much time as you started unbuttoning his shirt. just when you were down to two, he gripped your wrist, "are you sure?"

"yes." your response was quick.

he smirked, giving you a go-ahead and you went back to undoing the buttons, not bothering to even take off the shirt off his shoulders as you ran your fingers on his chest to his abs.

you reached his belt, undoing it—him helping you take it off, discarding it somewhere on the floor unconcernedly. he then pulled over your shirt off, unclipping your bra, also throwing away your shorts alongwith your panties.

he asked you if you were sure again. you nodded but he needed words.

"i want this."

"that's my girl," he presses his face in the crook of your neck, "ride me."

the next moment you found him in you. you didn't move however. he didn't let you. telling you that he had to take care of your tits first, running his hands around them.

"i wanna move," you whined, your hands that rested on his shoulders dug into his skin. it didn't pain him. even if he did, he considered it pleasure.

"patience angel, wanna be a good girl for me, don't you?"

you hummed a yes, "i wanna...but i want to move."

"beg."

"please," you pleaded, "i wanna move, mihya...i wanna feel you more...so badly, please."

he smirked, the corner of his lips tugging upwards in a shit eating grin as he coos at you, nodding at you to proceed.

it took you a bit by surprise when he moaned. yes, kaiser moaned. sure, the little pathetic sessions before had him grunting. but nothing compared to how he moaned now as you kept bouncing on his cock.

but other than that, the sight in front of him was to behold. you were getting there, he could tell by the way your bounces fastened and became irregular, following a certain pattern. his hands gripped your hips so tightly as he helps you bounce, the bed creaking and creaking.

the creaking finally stopped as the two of you reached peak and you slowed down, riding out your high.

"angel," he called out softly, "think you can go one more time?"

"yes, god, yes yes!" so lost in the moment, you threw the shame out of the window, letting arousal take over you.

he positioned you beneath him, as he littered kisses down your neck, collarbone—down to your tits, his tongue circling around your nipples without breaking eye contact.

your eyes roll to the back of your head as he aligned his cock in you. your leg over his shoulder, the other one spread out by his grip as he pounds into you with no mercy, "god," he breaths out, "look at you angel, so beautiful." oh how can his words be so lovely when he's fucking the sweet moans out of you.

"w-wait," you halt him.

"angel?"

"...kiss me, please?" and oh how could he say no? he leaned down, capturing your lips with his into a sweet kiss with simultaneously fucking you. he leans lower, biting into your shoulder, making you hiss.

"mihya...so—" you got interrupted when he hit the spot just right, letting a moan surpass your lips, "so c-close."

he chuckles at your pityful words, stopping and before you could even ask why he did so—he flips you around with a swift motion as his grip on your hips tighten, manhandling you to raise your ass upwards, your face squished in the pillow.

he pounds into you mercilessly from back. the room filling in with his moans, your muffled whimpers, the slapping sounds of the skin and creaking of bed. it was so so lewd.

"fuck angel...im not gonna last any longer. you close?"

you barely managed to choke out a muffled yes. at that, his movements grew erratic, though he didn't slow down.

he knew you came when he hears a loud cry of his name muffled. he thrusts into you a few more times as he cums inside you. pulling out, a groan escapes his lips as he sees his release dripping from your pussy.

he lays besides you, gently urging you to face him as he kisses you. he kisses and kisses. slow, fast, biting, licking. all of it, still having a gentle touch to it.

"you did so good angel," he pecks your forehead, "so good for me." he litters more kisses on your face, pulling you into his embrace, telling you how good you did, whispering sweet nothings.

"let's clean up yeah?" he exhales, "then i'll run to the store real quick."

"no need," you say.

"no need?" he questions, "what d'ya mean?"

"i um...brought plan B."

he lets out an airy laugh, "you were prepared, huh?"

"well..." you go on telling him about the conversation you had the day before. how your friends described their sex life. and when it came to you, they said what you and kaiser do was boring. he laughs at that, pulling you closer, calling you a dummy. he was thankful for it nonetheless.

"c'mon let's shower," he says, tho there was a tease in his tone, "another round?"

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

Peaceful as it Comes

Wife Sevika x Female Wife Reader (Fluff)

Domestic moments with Sevikidiki. More than one scenario with head cannons at the very end. :))

Content: Sevika has both arms. Modern Setting. Lots of being in Sevika’s lap and having her hug you from behind. Minor age gap.

Proofread || Note: DAY DREAMING ABOUT THESEE!! Ignore any spelling/grammar mistakes 🙂‍↔️

Breakfast with Distractions

You lived in out in the country with a small, satisfying, house that came with a lot of land. You had your own garden in the backyard, fueled by the river than ran through it. Early in the mornings you’d find yourself sat on a wooden chair, that your wife had built you, with a cup of coffee in hand. The sounds of the birds chirping, breeze blowing the trees, and the soft clinking from the backdoor opening would make the moment further more peaceful. It was your wife.

Sevika approached, standing behind you and staring down at your figure. You had on the dress she’d gifted on your anniversary. A red and white long, flowly dress which you matched with a pair of brown boots. Your wife said it was her favourite outfit, so you wore it often. The smell of her cologne filled your nose and she smiled at your cozied position. Legs pulled up to your chest, cup on your knees, with your hair flowing with the wind that flew by.

Everything was peaceful.

“Morning, you’re already out here?” Sevika broke the silence, brushing a hair from your lips. “Thought I’d finish planting the flowers, I’ve only got a few left.” You answered, watching as she leaned down to press a kiss on your forehead. “Y’have breakfast yet?” At her question, you flash a sheepish smile and raise your cup. Coffee was the only thing you’d had.

“Pancakes?”

“Yeah, pancakes sound good.”

Entering inside, you tie on your apron and pull out a pan from the cabinet. Your shared house wasn’t fancy, wasn’t fleshy built, but it was enough to satisfy your quiet life. Cracks were common, so were stains, and especially creaks. But it, honestly, only made it feel more like a home. Like you were actually living there.

“In my defence, I was waiting for you to wake up.” You muttered, mixing the milk and pancake batter. “And, you couldn’t of done that yourself?” Was Sevika’s sly response, with her hands on your hips she began swaying them. Guiding them alongside with her all the while peppering your shoulder with kisses. “Your wife’s a little busy.” Though you couldn’t resist it when she was so affectionate. “Oh? Is swaying your hips a distraction? Wouldn’t o’guessed.“ Sevika’s voice low and soft as her hands ran up and down your sides. “Did I say that?”

With the batter finally mixed, you pour some onto the heated pan and spread it into a circle. As the pancakes cooked, your wife turned you around and gave your hips a squeeze. “Still busy?” Forehead pressed against yours, back leaning against the counter with your hands now cupping her cheeks. You smiled. “Not as much as before, no.”

Your eyes met her pretty grey ones and you didn’t stop yourself from being pulled into a kiss. It was slow, just staring into eachother all the while sharing your breaths. Beautiful was what you called it. And when Sevika’s dark lips finally pressed against yours, your mind went blank for a moment. The pancakes didn’t matter. The flowers you had to plant could wait another hour. And, your grumbling stomach could kiss some ass. All you could really focus on was the soft taps your wife left on your lips. The way the warmth of her hands seeped through your dress and heated your skin. The way her breath felt against your face. And the way her lips tasted.

With a lingering peck on your lips, your girlfriend pulled back. “Love my days off.” She whispered, half her attention on flipping the pancake. “If it had burned I would’ve kicked your ass.” You joked, kissing her cheek one last time before going back to preparing breakfast.

“You’re a real distraction, babe.”

“And, you love me for it.”

Take a Break, Don’t ya?

Chores. Chores. Chores. And, some more chores. You’d made dinner, vacuumed the house, and even cleared out some of Sevika’s old papers from her office desk. Now, the last few things you needed to do were: clean the kitchen and sweep the floors. Those were easy tasks, and you were prepared to get them done.

Wiping the marble counters with a wet towel, you made sure everything was squeaky-clean. Made sure the ingredients were arranged perfectly, the sink was empty, and the dishes were where they were supposed to be. It took you about an hour, and in that time frame your wife had returned home and was freshening up.

A damp towel wrapped around her neck, she made her way to you. Wearing a tanktop and a pair of shorts, she looked exhausted. Sevika worked in construction, and that meant constant stress, sore muscles, and injuries. Though they were only minor, scratches and bruises were something you could handle. Not to mention how much muscle she’d put up, it was attractive. Made you horny even on your period.

“Haven’t seen you all day.” Her muscular arms tapping your backside to her front as she breathed down your neck. “How was work? Tiring as usual?” You, settling the pans and pots into the cupboard neatly, asked. Everyday was just as busy as the last, except for weekends; that’s when you and your wife could do whatever you wanted to.

“Y’guessed it,” pressing a heavy kiss on your cheek and pulling away to sit herself down onto the couch. “Hey, dinner’s ready. Grab a plate.” You’d already ate with content and now were waiting for your wife to. Afterwards, the two of you were free to talk and huddle up next to one another. “I will, just come here for a second.”

“You’re not the only busy woman in this relationship.” You flash her a look, tossing the towel into the washer before hanging your apron on a chair. There was more to do, and Sevika wanted you to relax with her? Well, you couldn’t really say no. Not when her legs were perfectly spread and her voice sounded so welcoming.

Plopping down onto your natural seat, your wife’s lap, you take a deep, long breath. It’d been a hot minute since you’d let your sore back slouch. Let your legs relax. “Take a break, alright? I know you’ve been at it for hours.” Sevika shifted on the couch, legs spreading further as she settled you inbetween them. It was like that everyday.

She’d come home, freshen up, and just sit with you for a few. It took your mind off of things, made your tense muscles loose. You appreciated how easily she could get. Also, because she said you’d have more wrinkles if you worked too hard. It was supposed to scare you.

Your cozy little home had one bedroom, one bathroom, and.. well, one everything. The two of you weren’t planning on having kids, not so soon anyways. Sevika knew she’d struggle with providing for them and you knew it’d only be a hassle. Considering you were in your early thirties and she was in her mid forties, she worried about you a lot. You were young and, sometimes, she even felt guilty for “taking away” your freedom. Which was a bit dramatic in your opinion. You chose marrying her, and you never regretted it.

“How was your day? ‘Nd don’t just say good, I know there’s more to it.” Your wife’s arm wrapped around your waist and she burried her face into your shoulder, inhaling your scent and savouring the closeness. Sevika was the kind of wife to call you every few hours when she was away, text you whenever she was on break, and even send you random pictures. Her selfies consisted her biceps, her coworkers, and silly faces. All taken for you to save and enjoy.

“My day? Well, don’t get me started on that creeky little door. I swear, everytime I open it it sounds like I’m in one of those horror movies. And, Sev, you promised you’d fix it and, again! You didn’t!” Your finger pointing to the storage room door that Sevika, somehow, broke by accident. She said she tripped and the whole door fell down. “I put some vegetable oil on the.. screw thingies. I saw it on youtube and, my god, it worked! At first I thought it was click bait but, to my surprise, it was the real deal.”

Your wife’s response to all of that? The occasional humm, a few chuckles, and an abundance of nods. She loved listening to you complain, even talk about the silliest things that happened throughout your eventful day. The thing she most adored was the fact that you’d tell her tiny details rather than the big ones. She remembered this one time where you were rambling on about something that had to do with the TV and had completely forgotten to bring up the fact that you’d cut your finger. You ended up getting a pink, princess bandage wrapped around your thumb.

“Alright, aright. I’ll fix it this saturday.” Her tone unbothered yet full of fondness. “Promise, love. Y’know I’ve been busy.” A laugh left her lips as she squeezed you with affection. It was like everything you did made Sevika completely and utterly happy. Be it wearing her favourite outfit, making her favourite food, or even walking around the kitchen, your wife found you pulling.

“Dinner’s gonna get cold, Sev. I worked hard on that thing.” Your hands giving her thighs a pat, you push off her lap and stand up— only to find yourself pulled back. “Where do you think you’re going? Few more minutes, we can always reheat?” She placed you sideways on her lap all the while nipping at your neck and causing you to giggle. “Vika! Eek!”

“Y’think you can escape me? Now I’ll have to eat you whole!” Her voice a playful gruff as her large hands began to tickle your sides.

“Hey! Hey! Not the—.. not the sides!”

Awsome-Sauce

The two of you decided to settle in an apartment, it was spacious and pretty damn expensive. And, Sevika being a business woman, she provided everything. From the rent to the groceries, it was her money you spent.

In return, the best you could give her was keeping the apartment clean and.. well, a home. Though, Sevika never asked anything from you— only your love and presence. That’s all she needed, and she’d told you that a million times. Whenever she was home, she wouldn’t let you lay a finger on anything that had to do with work. You wanna wash the dishes? Sevika’s alright got it covered. You need to fold the laundry? Your wife’s two steps ahead and even organized all the clothes. The kitchen’s a mess? She’ll be ready to scrub it clean. You never had to worry about a thing.

“Come on, it’s just sweeping. I do it every week day. When you’re not here? Y’know?” The least you could do was help the muscular woman who was cooking dinner, her hands busy with cutting the vegetables. “Nope, you’re gonna sit your pretty ass back on the couch, babe.” Her head turned to you, eyes narrowing at the sight of you holding a broom. “Babe.. seriously?—“ “Yes, seriously. You do s’much all week, take a break.” She motioned towards the couch before turning back to the cutting board.

“And you don’t? I mean, you’re at the office all week. Let me help.” Leaning the broom against the counter, you rest your head against her back and fiddle with her apron. Sevika’s response was a light chuckle, one that made you smile. “True that. But, I still don’t like it when you’re all.. occupied.” She placed the knife down and turned to you, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Sweeping is all you’re doing, okay?” Her voice was so sweet that it convinced you to do what she said, sweep and sit your ass down onto the couch. “Got it. Just holler at me if you need help, do not hesitate.” You pointed a finger before you reach for the broom again.

A solid thirty minutes later, your girlfriend nudged you. “Dinner’s ready, hope you’re hungry!” Her lips curled into a bright smile, your wife went back to cooking and went all out. Cutting the vegetables, choosing the spices, to adding other ingredients. From the back, she looked smoking hot. Her shoulders toned from her tight black shirt and her muscles clear as day. You wanted her to rip off her clothes and focus on you.

But that could wait.

“Alright, c’mon. Let’s eat.” Sevika’s hand guided you towards the dinner table where you sat down beside her. Yes, she preferred you being right by her side. “The usual. Rice. Hope you like it, baby.” Arm around your hip before she pulled your chair closer.

The dinner table was set perfectly, and you were almost jealous at how easily she’d made the food infront of you. It looked good, as usual, and you dug right in. You were a big fan of Sevika’s cooking, it was like a five-star chef had made it specially for you. You’d never get used to her iconic rice, it was always so flavourful. She’d never share her recipe, though.

Dinner was a blast, and now your stomach was too full. Spread across the couch, head on the arm rest as Sevika sat under your legs, she gave you a smile. “Ate too much?” Her large, calloused fingers massaging your feet. “Wayy to much. But, it was worth it. You make the best damn rice.” You were sure it was the brand of rice, there was no way she could get the consistency so.. perfect. “Good to know you’re satisfied.”

Oh, you were more than satisfied.

“It’s late, y’wanna head to bed?” Her mother-like tone causing you to lazily groan. You were exhausted, but sleep wasn’t exactly what you needed. “Not until you..” a grunt escaped your lips as you sat up. “Tell me your recipe.” Your back cracked like an old lady’s, and you straighten at the sound.

“Recipe for what? The rice?” Sevika pulled you into her lap, you inbetween her spread legs as she brushed back your hair. “There’s no recipe. I wing it.” You snorted at that. “Wing it? You? A business woman? Are you kidding?” No, she wasn’t.

Matter of fact, she was being completely honest. After watching tutorials online, Sevika had picked up on certain aspects of the amount spices she need and what temperature the stove should be on. It was all practice, in her opinion.

“I’m serious.” She gave your back a few rubs, hoping your stomach felt better by now, all the while her opposite hand gave yours a squeeze. “But, if you really wanna know? I use this sause from the store downtown, it’s pretty good.” Her lips curled into a playful smile as she gave your back a pat

“It’s called awsome-sause. Have you heard of it?”

You roll your eyes, shoving her in the side.

“You’re an asshole.”

Kisses

Throughout your marriage, Sevika had grown softer, gentler as you changed and opened further up to her. Like, your new favourite things, new interests, she loved every bit of it.

One change you’d noticed about her was the way she kissed you.

From rough, desperate make out sessions to light taps on your lips. Her tongue would feel the curve of your skin before she’d ask for entrance, compared to before when she’d demand for it.

Don’t get it wrong. You loved when your wife man handled you, took charge and dominated you. But sometimes, all you could really want was her loving side. The side of her where she felt that too much pressure would break you. Where she was so gentle with you that it felt unreal.

Her preferred position was with you sat on the dinner table, legs dangling down and inbetween her own. She’d hold onto your hips, squeeze and rub your skin there before making her way to the back of your head. One hand palming it as the other rested on the small of your back.

Before the kiss would start, she’d just stare into you and whisper a few sweet nothings. A good example being; “I’m the luckiest woman alive.” She had said that almost every day.

Your wife would then pull you into the most beautiful kiss you’d ever experienced. She was nothing like the rough and tough exterior she showed off, she was careful.

She’d often let escape soft, bare audible, grunts. A humm of enjoyment, aswell. She wasn’t embarrassed, just a little self conscious that it made you feel icky— which, it didn’t. And to show so, you’d cup her face and make sure she didn’t pull back. The gesture always made her melt.

Sevika’s breath smelled like cigars and whiskey, the occasional sugar cookie that you’d bake for her. She couldn’t keep herself from loading up on those, that woman would take ‘em everywhere she went.

The few things you’d feel were the way her tongue moved so perfectly against yours, always leaving you squirming. It was something about the way Sevika would groan everytime you did so. Another thing being her lips. She’d used your lip balm and, at first, she didn’t think anything would happen. But, after a few more uses her lips looked plump and shiny. You couldn’t resist giving them a few rubs with your thumb and even a peck of a kiss.

[juniperskye]

I’ve got you!

Based on the following ask: I want fluffy romance

It’s an Aaron Hotchner x reader (lmao daddy issues on fleek) anyways

I’d like to see like romantic tension building between them like it begins small but slowly gets bigger and it isn’t until reader gets into trouble (like say almost drowning because she never learned how to swim like my dumbass) that Aaron almost loses it a little and saved reader which makes him end up confessing to each other and they get together and it’s just fluffy romance because as much as I love the smutty stuff, I crave fluff so badly for my poor heart and for Aaron because baby deserves comfort too. Anyways Love you gorgeous

Aaron Hotchner x BAU! Fem Reader

Angst/Fluff

Word count: 2533

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, SLOW BURN, Age gap (non-specified), some explicit language, reader can’t swim, no use of y/n, Fem reader, reader has no physical description, canon typical violence, reader almost drowns, mention of Jack, Beth never existed in this okay!, mention of hospitals, team calls reader flower as a nickname! let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

Your first impression of Aaron Hotchner was at a lecture at your university. Jason Gideon had been leading the BAU and Hotch had just been an agent at the time, but you had been captivated by his intelligence and the way he carried himself. He was so confident and had this strength about him that drew you in. Not in a romantic way though!

At least that’s what you told yourself.

--

Aaron’s first impression of you was when you had been hired onto the team through Director Cruz. Mateo had brought you along with your file and handed you off to Aaron, informing him that you’d be joining the BAU effective immediately.

Initially Aaron was annoyed, this kind of thing hadn’t always worked out in his favor, having agents assigned to his team without his approval but, looking at you and your impressive file, he knew he had to give you a shot.

Glancing over to you he took note of your beauty. It wasn’t the obvious fake filter-like beauty, but something more natural. You had this air of warmth that radiated off of you, it was the type of energy that just made you feel comfortable around someone. He couldn’t help but think that if he’d met you some other way, that maybe he’d have asked you out.

--

Things between you and Aaron had progressed organically. The two of you had grown pretty close, being one another’s confidant within the team. You weren’t together, but the amount of time you two spent together suggested otherwise.

It all happened pretty quickly.

--

“Does Hotch always stay late?” You asked.

“Uh, yeah pretty much.” Emily laughed.

“What about Jack? He doesn’t go home to be with him? I mean…I, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean that to sound judgy, I just meant like doesn’t he want to go home?” You stuttered.

“I’m sure he wants to go home to Jack. His sister-in-law watches Jack when he can’t, but since Strauss died, they gave Hotch a lot of additional responsibilities for this team. Things that Cruz never took back on, so he has nearly double the workload now that he did back then.” Derek explained.

You stood there stunned to silence as the others packed their bags to head home for the evening. You hadn’t even noticed them making their way to the elevator.

“Aren’t you coming?” JJ questioned.

“You know, I just remembered I forgot to get the file for that case we had in Minnesota back to Hotch. He’ll be pissed if I don’t turn it in before our days off.” You lied.

“Do you want us to wait?” Spencer asked.

“No, you guys go ahead! Enjoy your weekend!”

You sat back down at your desk, attempting to make yourself look busy while the other piled into the elevator. Once the doors had closed you made your way up to his office…unable to hear the others…

“She’s got it bad.” Derek teased.

“So does he.” Rossi confirmed.

You gently knocked on his office door and waited for him to permit your entry. Once he did, you pushed the door open slightly and peaked in, waiting for him to acknowledge your presence.

“Oh hey, what are you still doing here? I figured you’d have left with the others.” Aaron let a slight smile slip past his lips.

“I was going to, but you’re still here. It didn’t feel right going home for the weekend while you are still here working your ass off.”

“I’m the boss, I’m always here working my ass off. Head home, enjoy the time off. Seriously.” Aaron suggested.

“How about instead, I do whatever I can to help you get through your work a little faster and I order dinner for us. Would you prefer tacos or Thai food?” You pulled up your maps app to see restaurants that were nearby.

“You should-”

“Don’t even try to argue with me Hotch.” You threatened.

“Tacos.”

“Perfect.”

--

That night you helped Aaron double-check the case reports and cross reference them to make sure they were all filed properly. It allowed him some extra time to complete some administrative work and when your food arrived, the two of you sat and laughed while enjoying your tacos.

--

Garcia, Emily, and JJ were all clutching their temples while chugging down coffee in hopes to alleviate their hangovers.

Spencer and Derek couldn’t help but chuckle at the girls and the fact that they chose to drink far too much last night, knowing full well they’d need to be up early to cheer on their fearless leader as he completed the annual FBI triathlon.

Dave waved to the others notifying them that he could see Aaron coming around the last corner.

“Wait where’s flower at?” Derek asked.

The team looked around to see if they could spot you, knowing that you would never miss this, given how close you and Aaron had become. Dave chuckled to himself and pointed over to where you were standing with Jack on your shoulders as he held up a large glittering sign.

Everyone cheered as Aaron crossed the finish line only, he didn’t stop to greet the team. He made his was straight to you and Jack, he assisted him in getting down off your shoulders and complimented the beautiful poster he had made.

“I had some help!” Jack replied, gently grabbing your hand.

You’d smile and wish Aaron a job well done.

The team would just watch from afar and wonder how the two of you could be so incredibly oblivious to the love you so obviously shared for one another.

--

“Wooo go Jack!” You cheered.

Aaron couldn’t help but chuckle at you, genuinely loving the bond you’d established with his son. It had started when Jack needed to spend a day at the BAU and you’d gone out of your way to get him snacks and print a few coloring pages for him. It had shifted to something deeper than that not long after. Jack would ask if you could come to the park with them or if you could help him with the poster for his dad or, like today for instance, if you could come to his soccer game.

You had packed up a cooler bag full of drinks and snacks for the three of you. Dressed in a simple T-shirt and jeans, Aaron had never thought you looked better. You’d been so casual and comfortable, and when you hopped in the passenger seat of his car that morning something stirred in Aaron. A feeling he wasn’t sure he was ready to feel again, let alone give in to.

“Did you see that? I made a goal!” Jack hollered running over to your waiting embrace.

“I did buddy, you were incredible out there!” You praised.

“Dad, can we all go get lunch now? And maybe then we can go see the new spiderman movie?” Jack pleaded.

“Oh – bud I don’t, I uh. I’m not sure that’s a good –” Aaron fumbled.

“I would love to, as long as it’s not an imposition.” You smiled.

“It’s not! An imposition, I mean.” Aaron clarified.

“Well then! What do you want for lunch Jack?” You asked.

You’d spent the rest of the day with the Hotchner boys, going to lunch and then seeing a movie. Which led to you offering to make them dinner, and building Legos with Jack, and then a nightcap with Aaron. He’d offered you his guestroom and then to drive you home first thing and given that you were both tipsy…you were quick to agree.

What you hadn’t expected was breakfast. He and Jack had gone all out with chocolate chip pancakes…things were feeling a little too domestic. When had things gotten so comfortable?

--

As the feeling stirred in both you and Aaron, you had begun to notice all the little things you did for one another. Things that had just become natural for you both in the time you’d known each other, second nature at this point.

You always slid sticky notes in your case files before turning them in to him. Sometimes they’d contain a doodle of something silly or a quote you’d read somewhere that made you think of him. What you didn’t know is he saved them all. They were tucked away in the back of his desk drawer, a neat pile of multicolored paper, serving as a reminder of how happy you made him.

Aaron shared similar antics…only his served in the form of your favorite tea, left on your desk each morning before the others arrived so they wouldn’t know it was him placing it there. Though they all had their suspicions anyway. Every once in while…usually after tough cases, or if he knew you hadn’t eaten dinner – which he’d know because you’d fall asleep mid-conversation via text – he’d leave a chocolate croissant…your favorite.

--

Aaron had almost let his feelings slip once. Dave had caught the internal battle that Aaron was facing, he wore it as a pained expression and tense shoulders. Dave had reassured him that you were alright and there was no need to worry, only that didn’t help much. You had gotten hurt, and that only proved that it could happen again. This was a dangerous job full of pain and suffering. Aaron realized he couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt.

You had been away on a case; the team had found the unsub and were closing in on him. You had rounded a corner in your chase and came face to face with the man you were after, and he had gotten the upper hand. He’d gotten a few good punches in and knocked you on your ass. Aaron had been quick to return the favor once he caught up.

That is when this need to protect you had grown all consuming. Aaron decided then to offer to train with you, in the hope of improving your self-defense skills a little more. And that is where you found yourself on Thursday evenings. Aaron and you would go to the FBI gym and train for about an hour before going to dinner.

This tradition sort of kept going…it sort of progressed from self-defense training to just working out together. An excuse really, an easy way of spending more time together without it looking too suspicious.

--

Dave had pushed Aaron time and time again, practically begging him to ask you out once and for all. To which Aaron always had the same reply; “She doesn’t feel that way about me and even if she did, it wouldn’t be appropriate”.

“You must be blind if you don’t see how much she cares about you. Or perhaps I was wrong about you being such a skilled profiler.” Dave chided.

“Excuse me?” Aaron was stunned.

“She is in love with you Aaron. You’d have to be an idiot to not realize, and even worse to keep yourselves from the happiness you both deserve.” Dave scolded.

Aaron sat with that for some time…wondering if Dave was right. Maybe enough was enough.

--

This case started out fine…but would quickly become both yours and Aaron’s worst nightmare.

This particular unsub had been murdering people with seemingly no connection. Disposing of their bodies at the South Coast Shipyard in Newport Beach, California.

The team had been working for days, trying to catch this guy. He was meticulous and stuck to his MO, not straying from his routine even the slightest. Spencer had suggested that he might have OCD.

That is what led you guys to the shipyard to try and corner him. Catch him in the act. You’d been on edge about being so close to the water…truthfully you’d always been afraid of it. And one night in a drunken stupor, you’d let it slip to Aaron that you’d never learned how to swim.

So, when Derek shouted out that you were FBI and Mathias Edwards took off running, you’d been a little nervous to chase after him. You’d do your job as expected…but there was a sick feeling in your stomach as you sprinted on the creaky dock.

It was just you Derek and Aaron at the docks, you had been checking things out, knowing that he’d likely be scoping out the area to see what boats were docked so he could find his next dumpsite. You hadn’t expected him to be there so early.

The three of you had split up, chasing after Mathias. You, thanks to all the training with Aaron, were quick on your feet, catching up with him quickly. You were running down a long straight on the docks, carefully avoiding any rope or ties holding boats in place when Mathias jumped out from between two boats, shoving you full force backward into the water. You’d immediately screamed, flailing your arms in a desperate attempt to stay above the surface.

Derek had been coming from the other direction and was able to tackle Mathias and was working to get him in cuffs. It wasn’t until Aaron came around that Derek even knew something was wrong.

“Where is she?” Aaron shouted. “Flower, where is she?”

Derek stood up, pulling Mathias to his feet and shoving him in the direction of the SUV. “Mathias pushed her into the water, I figured she’d swim around to the ladder at the end of the dock.”

“She can’t swim!” Aaron panicked, wasting no time jumping in the water to find you.

Moving swiftly, Derek secured the unsub in the SUV before running back to help Aaron get you out of the water. He’d found you quickly dragging you by your arm to the surface and lifting you into Derek’s waiting hands.

He’d checked for your pulse and when he couldn’t feel it, he began chest compressions. Aaron heaved himself out of the water and back on to the dock and pressed his ear to your chest to listen for any kind of breath sounds.

“Go call for a bus!” Aaron commanded.

Aaron took over CPR and leaned down to listen for your heartbeat once more. When he again heard nothing, he attempted mouth-to-mouth. He continued on like this for a few more seconds before you lurched forward, sputtering up the water that had entered your airways. Aaron helped you sit up and pulled you into his embrace.

“Oh, thank God.” Aaron muttered. “I’ve got you sweetheart.”

--

You were taken by ambulance to the nearest hospital. They wanted to check your vitals and run a few tests to make sure you were alright. Aaron had insisted on riding along with you and held your hand the entire way. He was by your side the whole time.

“You can’t do that to me.” He whispered.

“What?” You rasped.

“You can’t scare me like that sweetheart. I don’t know what I’d do if we lost you.” His eyes brimmed with tears.

“The team would be okay.”

“Not them. Me and Jack. We can’t lose you baby. We need you; Jack loves you, hell, I love you too much, I don’t think my heart could take it.” You were both crying now.

“I love you too.”

[admiringlove]

[22:11] . . .

“shit, fushiguro, what the hell are you doing?”

you freeze, the words spilling out before you can stop them, startled by the sight of him at your window. he’s drenched, rain clinging to him like a second skin, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, beads of water tracing paths down his jaw. his hands are raised in mock surrender, like some guilty criminal caught mid-act. but there’s no malice in his eyes—just exhaustion and something raw, something unspoken that makes your chest ache.

you clutch the swiss knife in your hand, your grip tight and absurd now that you realize it’s him. fushiguro megumi, of all people, standing on your fire escape in the middle of a storm. he’s balancing on the slick metal, a miserable silhouette against the downpour, and you don’t know whether to laugh or yell.

“can you help me up?” he asks, voice flat but edged with something fragile, like he knows he has no right to be here. his fingers curl tighter on the windowsill, knuckles pale in the dim light. “i’m getting soaked.”

you narrow your eyes, refusing to make this easy for him. “you do realize you could’ve knocked on my door like a normal person instead of playing spider-man in a monsoon? you look like a wet cat.”

his lips twitch—almost a smirk, but it doesn’t quite land. “can you help me up or not?” he asks again, sharper this time, his patience eroding as his grip shifts.

you sigh, loud and deliberate, setting the knife down on your bedside table. “i don’t know. i’m still mad at you.”

“oh, for fuck’s sake,” he groans, tilting his head back, rain streaking down his face. “not right now. just help me up, and we can talk.”

your arms cross over your chest, a barrier you refuse to lower. “you were mean,” you say, voice clipped. “i don’t know if i want to talk to you.”

he exhales, slow and heavy, the sound caught somewhere between irritation and resignation. “this is exactly why i didn’t come through the door like a normal person,” he mutters, half to himself.

your brows shoot up, sharp. “what was that?”

“i said,” he repeats, slower this time, each word dripping with sarcasm, “this is exactly why i didn’t come through the door like a normal person.”

“oh, so now you’re blaming me?” you throw your hands up, frustration spilling over. “this is exactly what i mean, megumi. first, you shut everyone out, acting all pissy and brooding like it’s your full-time job. and when someone tries to love you—god forbid—you get all pissy and sarcastic. and then, when you do screw up, instead of apologizing like a human being, you double down and make everything worse. every. single. time.”

his fingers slip slightly, and his grip tightens, his eyes narrowing. “so you’re saying i make you miserable,” he cuts in, voice low and biting, “while i’m hanging onto your window for dear fucking life? i could break, like, seven bones if i fall.”

“you’ll be fine,” you shoot back, waving him off. “your 'big feelings' will catch you.”

“that’s not fair,” he says, his tone skating dangerously close to a whine. “i didn’t mean it, okay? you’re not clingy, and i still love you.”

you stare at him, deadpan, unimpressed. “you say that every time, fushiguro. i’m not falling for it anymore.” a pause, and then you go for the jugular. “even gojo-sensei’s better at this emotional stuff.”

his expression twists, caught between offense and disbelief. “you’re comparing me to that idiot?”

“well, he did raise you. and look how you turned out.” you shrug, arms still crossed, daring him to make it worse.

he huffs, a sharp, humorless laugh breaking from his chest. “does that say more about him or me?”

oh. well, now, he has you stumped. you falter, the words catching in your throat. his response hangs there, heavy with a weight you didn’t expect. rain drums against the fire escape, and in the silence between you, it feels like the air shifts.

you notice, finally, how his shoulders slump under the weight of soaked fabric, how his usual sharpness is dulled into something quieter, something fragile. his hands tremble slightly, and you wonder if it’s from the cold or the effort of holding on. it’s hard to stay angry when he looks like this—half-drowned, half-contrite, wholly vulnerable.

you sigh again, softer this time, and extend your hand. “come inside before you catch pneumonia.”

his lips curve into the faintest smile, a flicker of relief breaking through the storm in his eyes as he reaches for you. the rain keeps falling, relentless and loud, but between you, the storm begins to still.

"and stand still!" you call out, the words sharper than you intend, a half-smile curving on your lips despite yourself. "i don’t want to mop up my entire dorm because of you."

there’s a pause, and megumi doesn’t respond. he doesn’t need to. he knows better than to argue. he just stands there, damp and dripping, his expression unreadable. he doesn’t move as you walk past him, head bent as you search through your closet, the air in the room thick with unspoken things. you pull out a cardboard box, old and battered, and set it down on the bed with a huff, the quiet sound of cardboard scraping against fabric the only noise in the room.

you begin to rummage through it, pulling out a white t-shirt, a pair of sweatpants, and a towel—his towel, the one you kept because it always smelled like him. you don’t meet his eyes as you hand him the towel, the fabric soft between your fingers, a strangely intimate reminder of him. he looks at you, wordlessly waiting for an explanation that you don’t offer. instead, you simply sit down on the bed, your back against the wall, eyes closed, pretending not to notice the weight of his gaze.

“i won’t look,” you murmur, your voice softer now, tinged with something like exhaustion. “just… dry off and wear these before you get sick.”

“okay,” he says, his voice quieter than usual, and you hear him shift, the sound of wet fabric against skin as he changes. he doesn’t say anything else, and you don’t open your eyes, focusing on the gentle movement of your thumbs, the small, almost rhythmic action that calms you. the silence in the room is filled with so much that words would only ruin it.

you hear him fumbling with the towel, the dry fabric against his damp hair, and something about the ordinary intimacy of it pulls at you. it’s strange, being here like this—on opposite ends of the room, with so much space between you both. but still… so close.

“why are all my things in this box?” his voice finally breaks the quiet, sharp with curiosity, tinged with something you can’t place.

you exhale softly, the weight of your own thoughts pressing heavy against your ribs. you keep your eyes closed, your lips tight. “i’m giving it back to you,” you say, your voice strangely calm. “you’re the one who said i take too much of your ‘shit,’ and try to smother you. so take all your ‘shit,’ megumi. keep it. keep your space. away from me.”

there’s a soft rustle of fabric as he finishes changing, and for a moment, neither of you speak. you can feel the shift in the air, the subtle way things have changed, irreversibly, between you. you know he’s looking at the box. you know what he’s seeing.

he picks up the first frame, the edges worn from years of handling. the photo inside catches his eye, and for a moment, you almost want to stop him. but you don’t. you keep your eyes shut, your heart a hollow thrum beneath your ribs.

it’s a photo of the three of you. megumi, you, and gojo—your faces frozen in time from a day you’d all spent together. the sunlight was soft then, filtering through the trees, and you were perched on gojo’s shoulders, hands tangled in his messy hair, laughing so freely you thought you might burst. megumi, of course, had been on gojo’s other shoulder, scowling in the way he always did, a lollipop stuck between his lips to silence the world’s noise as he tried to make sense of the chaos around him.

the smile on your face was as wide as the horizon, and even now, you can still remember the way you’d felt—so effortlessly happy, so full of life, in a way that doesn’t seem possible now.

he stares at the photo for a long time, his fingers brushing the glass gently, almost reverently, as if trying to hold onto something that’s slipping away.

there are more pictures, more reminders of you both—of everything you’ve shared. letters, birthday cards, books you’d both laughed over, and others that felt more personal, more like promises you never got the chance to keep. the box, once full of mundane things, is now filled with the soft evidence of what had been, of what he’s going to lose.

he looks up from the box, and his gaze drifts toward the wall next to your bed, the empty space where the pictures once hung. the space you’d cleared, and it’s so painfully obvious now why you’d done it. you’d taken them down because of him, because of what you felt, or rather, what you didn’t feel anymore. he doesn’t need to ask why.

“you were right,” he says softly, his voice hesitant, like he’s testing the waters, unsure of how far he can go. “i made you feel like i didn’t love you anymore.”

you don’t say anything for a long time, the weight of his words hanging between you both. there’s a tenderness in his tone, something unspoken but clear as day. it’s hard to breathe with the words lingering in the space, but you finally open your eyes. you meet his gaze, and in that moment, everything shifts, just slightly, as though the tension that has stretched between you both is finally beginning to unravel.

“it wasn’t your fault,” you murmur, the words slow but steady, as if you’re reminding yourself more than him. “it's okay if you don't want me around anymore. just don't be mean about it, and i'll catch on.”

he doesn’t speak. he just looks at you—his gaze searching, like he’s trying to find the pieces of what was broken, wondering if they can ever fit back together. and for the first time in what feels like forever, you don’t look away.

you let the silence stretch, comfortable and heavy, and you don’t need words to know that it’s not over. not yet. you’re both still standing in the wreckage, but maybe, just maybe, there’s room to rebuild something here.

"i didn’t say i don’t want you around," he tries, his voice faltering, unsure of how to bridge the gap between the words he wished he could take back and the ones that had already left him. it’s all he can do now—say something, anything, to make the air less heavy, less unbearable. but as his words hang there, your laughter cuts through it, incredulous. you look at him, eyes narrowed, disbelief clouding your features.

"if i remember correctly, that’s exactly what you said."

he freezes, the words bouncing off you, back into the space between you both, and for a moment, there’s nothing but the silence and the bitter sting of what’s been said. he opens his mouth to protest, but the words crumble before they can even form.

"no, i didn’t!" he protests, his tone rising a little, like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you. "you kept saying things about me, about how i fight like it’s my last time, about me being mean to gojo-sensei—"

you scoff, a humorless laugh slipping out before you can stop it. "you do fight like it’s your last time, megumi. every single time. and you are mean to gojo-sensei. telling him he's not your father when he's the one who raised you was downright horrible," your eyes narrow at him, each word a slow burn, a careful sharpening of the edge you thought you’d put down. "what exactly are you trying to get at here?"

his gaze drops, hands running through his wet hair in frustration, the action almost mechanical. he sighs, the sound heavy, like it carries more weight than it should. "i’m just saying… you kept saying things about me that i didn’t want to admit were true." his voice cracks, just barely, and for a moment, you see the flicker of vulnerability that he’s so often quick to hide. "and that… that made me mad. so i said things i didn’t mean."

there’s a long pause, the tension thick, and you stare at him, your pulse quickening. your gaze softens, but only just. "you’re old enough to control your tongue, even if you're hurt," you say, your voice firm but with an underlying quiet that’s a strange kind of soothing. "i was trying to help you, fushiguro. you had a gash on your stomach, and i was stitching it. what else was i supposed to say? 'go kill yourself'? 'go crazy, go stupid'?"

his breath catches, a ragged sound as if your words have hit somewhere he wasn’t ready to confront. "that’s not what i—" he cuts himself off with a frustrated exhale, the words not coming out right. he’s tired, you can hear it in his voice, tired of explaining, tired of fighting against the truth that both of you already know.

his gaze lifts, meeting yours with something softer this time—familiar, almost desperate. "i'm sorry," he murmurs, the apology thick with everything unsaid, everything he’s never been able to voice. and there it is. the fragile thread between you, stretching, fraying at the edges, but still holding on.

you don’t say anything for a long while, just looking at him—really looking at him—as if seeing him for the first time. you know what he’s trying to say, what he’s trying to admit. it’s not about the words. it’s never really been about the words. it’s about the space between them.

"you’re not alone in this," you finally whisper, your voice steady, but there’s a warmth in it now. "i know you. i’ve always known you. so has sensei."

"yeah, but you judge me for it," he says, his voice raw, steady, like he's finally gathered the courage to say what he’s been holding back. he locks his gaze with yours, and for the first time, there’s no avoiding it—the weight of the words hanging between you. "you judge me for liking it. you judge me for wanting to fight."

you blink, trying to catch your breath, a sharp edge of disbelief cutting through the knot in your chest. "where exactly are you getting this bullshit information?" you ask, the words coming out harsher than you intended. "i don’t judge you for wanting to do things you’re good at. i judge you when you get hurt." your voice falters slightly, a tremor that betrays the calm you’re trying to hold onto. "do you know how scared i was when gojo-sensei called me and told me you were hurt? i couldn't fucking breathe, megumi! i thought... i thought i was the one who was gonna die."

the air seems to shift, a pause between you that carries more weight than the silence should. his pupils widen just slightly, like he's seeing you for the first time, or maybe like he’s never seen you quite this way before. his lips part, but no words come out. he takes a slow step forward, and for some reason, you don’t pull away. there’s no barrier left between you now—not physically, at least.

he sits down next to you, his body close, his back leaning against the wall, and for a moment, you’re both frozen in the quiet. his shoulder brushes yours, and the contact feels more real than anything has in a long time. your heart beats a little faster in your chest, like it’s reminding you it’s still there, still alive, still holding on. you let out a long breath, heavy with everything unspoken.

"i don't ever want to lose you," you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. and when they do, they feel like a confession—like a weight you hadn’t even known you were carrying. "even if you don't love me."

his face softens, and you feel him shift, his presence growing heavier in the space between you. he doesn't speak immediately, and you wonder if you’ve gone too far, if you’ve revealed too much, but then he says it. softly, like a prayer.

"i do love you," he says, and there’s a quiet certainty in the way his voice cracks. he closes his eyes, tilting his head back against the wall, as if the admission is a weight he’s been carrying too. "i’m never gonna stop."

you scoff, though it’s a hollow sound, more resigned than mocking. "you sure have a funny way of showing it," you murmur, the words barely a whisper, like they’re too fragile to be said out loud.

he turns to you then, his eyes meeting yours with a depth that stops you in your tracks. there’s no barrier anymore, nothing between you. not even the past. his gaze softens, and for the first time, you realize that what’s in his eyes is something you never expected to see: regret, apology, but most of all, love.

you don’t say anything. there’s too much left unsaid, and maybe that’s all you can give him now. silence, and the space to understand. the air between you is thick with it—unsaid words and all the things you’ve never been able to express, not fully. you sit there, avoiding his gaze, eyes lowered, fingers twisting in your lap. it’s as if you’re scared—scared of saying the wrong thing, scared of the way you might break if you say too much.

but he sees you. truly sees you.

he reaches for your hand then, tentative, like he's unsure whether you’ll pull away. when you don’t, he intertwines his fingers with yours, gentle, the touch almost shy in its sincerity. "i’m sorry i have a shitty way of showing i love you," he murmurs, the apology thick with the weight of everything he can’t put into words.

you don’t reply immediately, not trusting yourself to speak without cracking. instead, you sit there—just breathing, just being. the moments stretch out between you, heavy with everything both of you have been holding back. and you realize, then, that maybe this, right here, is enough. just this moment of him holding your hand, just this one step closer, is enough.

because all he wants now is to make sure you’re still there. make sure you won’t leave his side.

and you... you don’t want to leave either.

you lean your head against his shoulder, the weight of it feeling more like a promise than an accident. it’s as if, for just a moment, all the tension in your body can dissipate, settling into the rhythm of his breath, the quiet hum of the world outside. the room feels smaller, but in a way that makes it safer, like this tiny bubble where the rest of everything—everything that’s hurt, everything that’s unsaid—can stay out. there’s a warmth to the touch of his body against yours, something real and solid in a world that’s felt too fragmented for too long. his thumb brushes over the back of your hand, gentle, almost absentminded, but it’s the kind of touch that says everything: i’m here.

you feel it in the way his body shifts ever so slightly, like he’s anchoring you in a way only he knows how to. and for the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself rest in that comfort, in that certainty, no matter how fleeting it might be. the air around you is thick with everything unspoken, but the space between you feels like it’s been bridged, like the distance that once seemed so insurmountable isn’t as wide anymore. the quiet stretches on, peaceful, before you finally speak, your voice soft and a little uncertain, like it’s unsure how to follow the fragile peace between you two.

"you should apologize to gojo-sensei, too," you murmur, your words carrying more weight than they should, like it’s the last piece of a puzzle you need to solve before you can both move forward. "he doesn't deserve that. he's pretty much our dad."

he’s quiet for a beat, the sound of his thumb still grazing the skin of your hand, before he shifts slightly, a breath of a laugh escaping his lips. it’s light, but there’s something heavy beneath it, something you can’t quite put your finger on.

"yeah?" he asks, and when he tilts his head against yours, the movement feels almost like a surrender, like he’s finally letting himself be vulnerable in a way he hasn’t in a long time. you feel the shift in him, a softening that pulls you closer, that makes you realize just how long you’ve both been carrying things you shouldn’t have been. "it’s gonna hurt my ego..." his voice trails off, a little teasing, but it’s also real, like he’s letting you see the part of him that he doesn’t usually show—the one that’s afraid of admitting when he’s wrong. you look up at him, your gaze catching his, and you can’t help the slight raise of your eyebrows, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

"oh, i’m sure it will," you reply, the words laced with a quiet affection, a softness that you haven’t allowed yourself to feel in so long. you pause for a moment, before adding, "but you’ll do it, right?"

he exhales slowly, like he’s letting go of something deep inside of him, the exhale almost as long as the silence that lingers between you. and then, with a faint, almost reluctant chuckle, he says, "but i’ll do it."

you breathe a sigh of relief at the simplicity of it all, at how easy it feels to give and take forgiveness, even when it’s hard. maybe that’s the trick—maybe it’s not about having all the answers or solving everything right away. maybe it’s just about taking the first step, even if it’s a small one. you can feel the change in him, in the way he doesn’t just say the words but lives them in that moment. he means it.

"you better," you say softly, a teasing edge to your words, but the sincerity is unmistakable. and you find yourself leaning into him more, if only just a little, as if the distance between you shrinks just a bit more, as if the space between the two of you is finally filling with something warm and real.

and as you rest there, nestled against him, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, it’ll all be okay. the thought lingers, soft like the gentle brush of his thumb across your skin. because sometimes, it’s not about fixing everything all at once. sometimes, it’s just about being here, in this moment, with him, and knowing that even if the world outside is still uncertain, you’ve found a way to stay close. and that, you think, is enough for now.

a/n: once read this fic by @sttoru and i really wanted to write smth about it from gumi's perspective. so here it is. it's been sitting in my drafts for a very, very long time.

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[hurlingdown]

Not adding my glorious malewife nanami should be a crime 😔

nanami kento hardly considered himself a family man. that was, until he met you. 

toddlers, little versions of you running around, tiny chubby hands and feet tugging insistently on the fabric of his pants to ask for hugs, telling them bedtime stories with them going from excited and animated to slowly nodding off in his lap . . . 

the nanami kento from ten years ago would have never believed what he was currently imagining as the ‘perfect life’. 

“sweetheart,” kento sighed, gold lashes fluttering in the morning light. it was still so early, and yet your appetite was insatiable. he was laying on his stomach, and he could feel just exactly how deep you were inside him. your warm hands had long settled underneath his belly, careful and tender in the way one would cradle the pregnant paunch of their betrothed, and he knew what you were thinking. 

a baby, nanami thought with a shudder. your baby. 

he craned his head to glance at you, panting lightly into the crisp air. your expression was contorted in pleasure, some concoction of concealed lust and . . . something more. it made his heart throb, made him want to clench. to take you in, every inch and all else you were willing, and the child you wanted to give to him. 

i want it, he found himself wanting to say, and frowned. he wasn’t so young anymore, and this would be the best time to conceive, if anything—but was this a risk he was willing to take? what would life be like, carrying your kin in his womb? new life, growing inside the cot of his belly? 

nanami doubted it would be all smiles and sunshine, but the gnawing feeling at the back of his throat never hesitated. the emptiness inside him had never felt right. he wanted it. so much. 

the snug press of your hips against his rear forced a low sound out of him, full of yearning. and when you bent down to whisper ‘i love you’ into his ear, warm and potent, nanami found his eyes blurring with the water of tears. 

“i want your child,” he breathed out, and he felt you grow still behind him. it was the wrong position, really, or maybe the right one, considering how you were pressed up inside him in a way that sent the universe floating before his eyes. his words felt like a promise. a plea. nanami wished it belonged to you instead. 

your response was hardly coherent, a snarl if anything—pressing yourself to the cleft of his back, moaning and grunting his name, grip tight and sweaty on his hips. nanami could almost taste the feeling of joy bubbling inside himself as he buried his face into the mattress and let you make love to him. 

if four of his words meant this much to you, maybe, just maybe . . . starting a family with you wouldn’t be a bad thing after all. 

[likeumeanit9497]

bet | c.s. |

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: when y/n loses a bet to chris and is forced to go to a party, she realizes that she can be a lot more fun than she thought she could be.

warnings: SMUT; unprotected p in v; oral (f receiving); choking; dirty talk; overstimulation; LOTS of plot; mentions of alcohol; 18+

notes: okay soooo...this is long. guys i try SO HARD to make my one shots shorter but I CAN'T DO IT IM SORRY I JUST LOVE CREATING A PLOT LINE TOO MUCH!!! so i 100% get it if u don't want to read all 6,857 words of this BUT i will say the smut in this is excellent. if u do choose to read this i hope u enjoy but i love ALL of u so much <333

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

“So after the kid shot me with the SRT I legit only had like 20 health,” Chris’s conversation was very much one-sided as you tried to keep your focus on the study material in front of you. “I didn’t have any slurp juice or bandages, so I definitely thought I was fucked because the kid was running towards me.” You began chewing on your bottom lip as you flipped through flashcards; Chris’s voice growing much too loud for the campus library. In your periphery, you could see that Chris was no longer writing notes and instead had abandoned his pencil to begin moving his hands animatedly as he continued his story. “Oh! And I was also almost out of mats. I was trying to build but he kept shooting at me so I was running out of material quick.” You sighed softly, searching through your business law textbook to find a concept that was sure to be on the test on Monday. The same test that Chris would also be taking, though he was proving to be completely disinterested in preparing himself for it as he continued to drone on about his recent Fortnite win.

“Chris,” You began, finally turning to face him. “I’m sure it’s all very impressive, but we have a pretty big midterm on Monday, remember? That’s the whole reason we’re here.” You shoot him a smile to hopefully soften your words, but thought to yourself that if you had known he was going to be so distracting, you never would have agreed to study with him. Chris blinked at you, a cocky smile pulling at the corner of his lips. He leaned back in the library chair and rested his hands against his stomach. You didn’t know Chris very well, as typically you only really spoke to each other in class, so you couldn’t really gauge his reaction to your words. You watched him for a moment, analyzing the way that his glittery-blue eyes flicked down to your lips and back up again. “But business law is so boring.” He finally replied, humour laced in his voice.

You chuckled, splitting your flashcards in half and handing a stack of them to him. “I know, trust me. But you have to study or else you’ll be fucked Monday morning.” You replied, and with a sigh he took your offered flashcards and straightened up in his chair. “Fine,” He huffed, “But I can’t stay very late, I’ve got a party to go to.” He wiggled his eyebrows cheekily as he spoke, and you stayed silent as you fought the urge to roll your eyes. Finally, you both began flipping through your respective flashcards in silence, the only distraction being the occasional brush of Chris’s arm against yours. You finally felt yourself fall into the satisfying feeling of being laser focused on the material in front of you, when Chris’s voice once again broke the silence.

“Speaking of parties, how come I never see you at any of them?” He asked, dropping his half of the flashcards onto the work table and reaching for his phone. Sighing, you barely flicked your eyes up in acknowledgement before giving him a curt response. “Not my scene.” You replied simply, hoping that answer was enough. “I don’t know if I believe that.” He replied, his voice filled with humour once again. “Hmm?” You rested your head in your hand as you continued haphazardly reading the cards. He stayed silent for a moment, and you could feel his eyes burning into you as he searched for a response. “I mean, I’ve seen plenty of your friends out.” You shrugged. “They’re more fun than I am.”

“Now I know that’s not true.” His words were finally enough to make you drop your own flashcards and turn to face him. “Chris, it’s a Friday night and I’m sitting in the library — where I plan on staying until I’m practically forced out at closing time — doing my very best to study for a midterm that I’ve been prepared to write for about two weeks. I spend so much time in this exact chair that I wouldn’t be surprised to show up one day and see a plaque with my name on it. This is my idea of fun. So how exactly do you think otherwise?” Chris smiled at you, his eyes glimmering with humorous appreciation. “I’ve got a sixth sense for these things, Y/n.” He shrugged, his voice a low, taunting whisper. You scoffed, shocked by his presumption that he knows you more than he really does.

“In fact,” He began again, making you close your eyes out of sheer frustration. “I think I can prove it.” You turned to face him once again, shockingly intrigued by his statement. Raising one eyebrow, you encourage him to continue. “Let’s make a bet.” You tilted your head, unable to hide your curiosity. “A bet.” You repeated. He nodded his head and leaned back in his chair. “We quiz each other with what’s on these flashcards. If you win, I’ll leave the library so you can study in peace, but if I win, you come to the party with me tonight.”

Your eyes widened in shock as you took in his proposition. The thought of going to a party on any weekend made you uneasy, but on the Friday before a major midterm it sounded disastrous. “And what if I say I don’t want to be a part of this bet at all?” You questioned, crossing your arms over your chest. Chris smirked and shrugged. “Then I guess you’ll have to put up with me. As a matter of fact, I bet I could stay a little later, too. I have plenty of stories to share with you.” You groaned out loud as he sent you a quick wink. “I hate parties!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air in exasperation.

“What? Don’t think you can answer more questions right than me?” He asked, his teasing voice laced with humour. But his words brought you to the realization that he was right, of course you wouldn’t have to go to the party. There was no way that Chris would be able to get more of the flashcard questions that you wrote correct. So, after a few more moments of contemplation, you shrugged your shoulders and straightened up in your chair. “Fuck it, I’m in.” A smile grew on Chris’s face as he took your hand and shook it; sealing the deal.

𓆩♡𓆪

“Yes! Let’s fucking go!” Your face dropped as you watched Chris jump from his seat, fists pumping the air as he circled your work table, soaking in his win. Once he reached you, he grabbed your shoulders and shook them lightly, pulling you from your shocked disassociation. “How the fuck did that just happen?” You asked, your voice weak as you looked at the tally score you had made on a scrap piece of paper. At the start of your little competition, you had actually been pleasantly surprised to see Chris answering the first few questions right. But, as you got closer and closer to the end, and with that, your scores eventually becoming tied, you suddenly became nervous. When you got your last question wrong, you felt your stomach drop, knowing that in order for you not to lose the bet Chris would have to get his last one wrong as well. But, to your horror, his answer was perfectly correct.

“I bet you underestimated me, huh?” Chris taunted as he began packing up his backpack. Shaking your head, you pulled your exasperated body up, collecting your own study supplies. “I guess I did.” You replied sheepishly, and without even looking you could feel Chris lean towards you. “You should never underestimate me.” He whispered, causing shivers to crawl down your spine. Then, his mood suddenly shifted back to his previous giddiness as he slung his backpack onto one shoulder. “So, text me your address. I’ll pick you up around 9:00 and we’ll walk to the party together, sound good?” Chris’s voice was so sickly sweet, riddled with excitement at the expense of both your shattered ego and distaste for your sudden plans. With a huff, you begin walking with him towards the library exit. “Sounds great.” You replied, your words filled with sarcasm and resentment.

𓆩♡𓆪

“Just a second!” You called, your voice shrill and panicked, as you scrambled around your apartment trying to do up your black corset while running to answer the door. Groaning, you momentarily give up on the corset and use one hand to hold it together in the back while you opened the front door. “Sorry, I just need another minute to get this damn top on.” You muttered in frustration, skipping over any greeting with Chris standing at the door. You turned around immediately, leaving the door open for him to enter as you walked into your bedroom and stood in front of you mirror.

Chris chuckled as he stepped into your apartment and followed you into your bedroom. “Having some trouble there?” He teased, nudging his chin to your undone top. You huffed as he leaned against your bedroom doorframe, crossing his arms as he took great pleasure in watching you struggle with your top.

“This thing is fucking impossible to put on!” You exclaimed, contorting your body into unflattering positions in an attempt to see what you were doing as you worked at clipping up one of the many clasps. Your eyes fell to your clock, noticing that it was exactly 9:00. “I’m sorry Chris, are we gonna be late?” You asked as you continued to struggle with your top.

“It’s a party, Y/n,” Chris began, pushing himself off from the doorframe and walking towards you. “We can’t be ‘late’.” Without asking for permission, Chris mindlessly walked up behind you to begin helping with your fussy corset. You stilled as you felt his cold knuckles brush against your spine as his fingers expertly maneuvered the stubborn clips into place. “Thank you.” You managed to whisper, even though your mouth had suddenly grown bone dry.

Once he fastened the last clip, Chris took a moment to step back and check over his work. Nodding in approval, you watched him through the mirror as his eyes drifted along your entire outfit. “Damn. I didn’t think you even owned anything like this.” He laughed, locking eyes with you in the mirror. You took a moment of your own to look at the lacy black corset and black mini skirt covering your body, and mirrored his laugh.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been dragged to a party, you know.” Chris made a cheeky face at you through the mirror. “Dragged is a crazy word. I prefer to think of it as you finally allowing yourself to spend your Friday night like a normal 21 year old college student.” You turned away from the mirror and rolled your eyes, reaching for your purse on the bed to make sure you had everything in it that you might need tonight. Chris chuckled as you began stuffing your purse with your lip combo and perfume of the night, and suddenly you felt the heat of his body behind you as he stepped closer to you. “You know, we can blow off this party if you really don’t want to go.”

You let out a soft gasp and your eyes fluttered shut at his warm whispers in your ear. His mouth lingered just inches from your ear as he waited for a response, but confusion washed over your body like lava. After what could have possibly been too long of an unbearable silence, you broke it by laughing dryly. “Yeah yeah, but I lost the bet…remember?” While you tried to keep your voice steady, you winced at how weak your words came out. Chris laughed softly, his breath warming your skin deliciously. “Ah yes, the bet.” He replied, his voice much lower than it had been before. You shivered as you felt his thumb trail softly down your bare arm. “We better get going then.”

You took a deep breath before turning around to face him. Looking up at him through your false eyelashes, you took a moment to examine his curious expression. His eyes looked soft as they glimmered in the dim lighting of your bedroom, but there was a barely distinguishable tension in his jaw — as though he was clenching his teeth in discomfort or strain — as he stared down at you. “Okay.” You finally replied, your voice a hoarse whisper.

You suddenly felt chilled as Chris’s body moved away from yours, and were completely shocked by the wave of disappointment that crashed through your system. As Chris helped you slip on your black jacket and you both walked out of your apartment and towards the party, you couldn’t help but ask yourself: what would have happened if you took the option not to go to the party?

It was a short walk to the house party, but by the time you and Chris walked up to the front door, you were beginning to grow squirrelly with nerves. It had been a long time since you had gone to a party, and you were sure that you had never been at this particular house before. As if he was reading your mind, Chris nudged your shoulder softly. “Hey, it’ll be fun,” You turned to look at him, giving him a weak smile. He leaned in closer to your ear, as if he was preparing to tell you a secret. “This is actually my place, so you’re already tight with the host.” You looked at him, slightly shocked that the party was at his home yet he chose to meet you at your place first, but it did calm your nerves slightly.

That changed as soon as Chris opened the front door. Immediately, you were met by a throng of unfamiliar people scattered throughout the house, loud music blaring, and scattered beer bottles and solo cups along the floor. After shooting you a reassuring look, Chris led you up the stairs to the main part of his home; filled with even more people and even more mess. A handful of people walked up to Chris in greeting, and you felt like an invader of the party; even though Chris made sure to introduce you to everyone he was talking to.

Just when you were about to ask Chris to show you where the washroom was — in which you planned to spend the rest of this horrifying night in hiding — you heard your name get called over the incessant chatter. Turning your head in the direction of the living room, you noticed three of your best friends on the couch, smiling and waving their hands in your direction. “You bitch! Why didn’t you tell us you were coming out?”

You felt the weight of humiliation and awkwardness lift off of you, and you shot them a warm smile before turning to Chris. Noticing your friends, he tilted his head in their direction and smiled kindly down at you. “Go ahead, I’ll find you later.” With a childish giggle, you squeezed his arm as a gentle sign of appreciation before quickly scampering off to your friends on the couch.

𓆩♡𓆪

After giving your friends a detailed explanation of how you ended up at the party — and after drinking more than your fair share of beer — you had melted into a state of bliss that was nearly unrecognizable to you. Never before had you truly enjoyed yourself at a party, yet at that very moment, it felt as though you were morphing into a completely different person; one much more confident and certainly more relaxed.That definitely had to do with the liquor burning through your veins, and maybe even the fact that a certain pair of blue eyes had been planted on you the whole night.

Laughing at something one of your friends’ said, your eyes traveled across the room and locked onto Chris’s from his place in the kitchen. You watched as a smirk pulled at the corner of his pink lips before he curled two fingers in the air; subtly calling you over. “I’ll be back in a bit.” You said to your friends before pulling your body — heavy from the alcohol — off of the couch and walking over to Chris at the kitchen counter.

He watched you, his head tilted ever so slightly as if he was studying you, as you approached him. You realized in that moment just how warm your cheeks felt as you finally reached him, standing just inches from his leaning frame. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say it looks like you’re having a bit of fun over there.” He said, his voice laced with amusement. You made an attempt at rolling your eyes. “Alcohol can make anything fun.” You replied, feeling too stubborn to admit that your night was going much better than you had expected. Chris straightened up and turned to the counter where he grabbed a bottle of tequila and began filling up two shot glasses. “Well in that case, I think you should take a shot with me.”

You smiled and stayed silent as you watched him pour the liquid into the small glasses. You couldn’t help but admire his side profile as his long eyelashes framed his slightly reddened eyes, and his teeth bit down on his lower lip in concentration. Even with your blurred vision, you could see the faint sprinkle of freckles along the soft slope of his nose, and appreciated the soft flush of baby pink — no doubt a gift granted to you by his consumption of alcohol — along his cheeks.

You snapped out of it once he turned back to face you, holding out a shot — noticeably less full than the one in his other hand — for you to grab. You obliged, and held it up in a cheers with him before you both tilted your heads back, wincing at the familiar burn as the tequila slid down your throat. “Lime.” You cried out, your voice hoarse from the liquor, and rather quickly Chris grabbed a pre-cut lime wedge out of a bowl and brought it to your lips. You opened your mouth and wrapped your lips around the slice; sucking the sour juice from it while looking up at Chris with a scrunched up face as you ignored the strange flutter in your stomach — a flutter that was most definitely not from the alcohol.

You pulled your eyes away from Chris as you plucked the lime out of your mouth. Hearing him chuckle, you looked back up at him. “Another?” He asked, holding up the bottle of Casa Migos. Regrettably, you nodded your head. “But do you have any salt?” You asked, to which Chris responded by immediately reaching over into a cabinet to his right. As he searched through the cabinet, your eyes fell onto his exposed neck typically hidden by his messy curls — his skin slightly glistening.

As he turned back to face you, a shaker of salt in his hand, you felt your mood suddenly shift into one filled with desire. Forcing a smile onto your face, you managed a small thank you. Noticing your change in mood, Chris’s eyes seemed to scan across your features for a moment in silence. “Lick the back of your hand.” He ordered, his voice low and slightly deeper than before. Instinctually, you brought your hand up to your mouth. But just as you were about to run your hand against your tongue, you were suddenly overcome with an urge — and with it, a wave of uncharacteristic confidence.

“Actually, can I do something?” You asked, looking up at Chris through your eyelashes. Your eyes fixed on his neck, and you watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed slightly. “Sure.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper. As the word left his mouth, you took the salt shaker from his hand and sprinkled some into your own open palm. “Fill the shot glasses.” You told him, and he immediately obliged. Looking back up at his face — his gorgeous features laced with confusion — you took one deep breath before moving closer to him, your bodies now so close that with each breath your chest brushed against his. His eyes were filled with shock at your sudden proximity, but he stayed perfectly still as he waited to see what you were going to do.

Slowly, so slowly, you brought your mouth to his neck before running your tongue along his creamy skin. As you did, a short gasp fell from his lips and you felt his body stiffen against you. Sticking to efficiency, you quickly pulled your tongue away before lacing your free hand through his curls; using your grip to tilt his head so that you could sprinkle the grains of salt against his wet skin. Pulling back, you caught a glimpse of Chris’s face — cheeks even more flushed and his eyes momentarily shut in bliss — before he looked down at you with uncertainty.

Untangling your hand from his hair, you reached for your shot on the counter and held it up. “Cheers.” You whispered, a small smirk tugging at your lips. Chris blinked a few times before picking up his own shot and clinking it against yours. His eyes stayed glued to yours as you both took your shots, and before the tequila had a chance to hit you with its after shock, you wrapped your lips around the patch of salt along his neck. Even in the loud room, you could swear you heard a soft moan fall from Chris lips, and you felt his pulse quicken against your mouth as you took your time licking away every grain of salt.

It wasn’t long before all of the salt had melted against your tongue, but still you continued to gently nibble and suck the delicate skin on his neck. As you did, Chris sucked in a sharp breath before gripping onto your ass tightly and pulling you against him. You released your own soft moan at the feeling of his large hand digging into your plush skin, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Jesus, Y/n.” Chris groaned. Against your front, you began to feel a fast-growing bulge press against you. Your mouth travelled tantalizingly slow against his skin, until you reached his ear. Grabbing his earlobe between your teeth and gently tugging on the soft skin, you whispered. “You should never underestimate me, either.”

At that, you heard an impressed chuckle. You pulled away from his skin and looked up at him, just inches from his soft lips. So close that you could feel his warm breath against your face, you began to feel intoxicated — not by the tequila, but by him. His hand stayed firmly planted on your ass, the tips of his fingers just barely whispering against your burning heat. The two of you seemed to find yourselves in some sort of stare down — neither of you moving closer to or away from the other — trying to gauge what the other wanted.

Finally, your eyes dropped to his glistening lips, and as if they had a magnetic pull you felt yourself inch closer and closer to them. Noticing this, Chris began pulling forward too, until you could feel his desire burning against your skin. Just as your lips brushed against his, you gasped for air before panting out: “Bedroom.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Chris grabbed onto your hand and began leading you to a set of stairs descending into the basement. You could hear your own pulse over the music as it began growing more distant when you both reached the bottom of the stairs. Once you reached a locked door, Chris began pounding against it urgently. “Get the fuck out of my room!” He called through the door, and as you heard the sound of panicked shuffling on the other side he turned to face you; his eyes exuding pure desire as he ran his thumb pad against your lower lip.

You jumped as the door suddenly burst open and watched as two undone people slipped past you both; actively avoiding eye contact. As soon as they passed you, Chris grabbed onto your waist and pulled you into the dimly lit room. Without even a moment to adjust to your surroundings, you gasped as Chris slammed you against the closed door and engulfed your open mouth with his own. You moaned at the feeling of his lips moulding to yours, bringing with them a relief to the tension that had been building between you all night.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, and you welcomed it with a gasp. You relished in the feeling of his tongue completely and utterly dominating not just your mouth, but your whole body, as you felt yourself weaken in between the wooden door and his towering frame. Your head began to spin at the unfamiliar yet intoxicating taste of his lips, just as you watched in awe as he dropped to his knees in front of you.

His eyes drilled into yours for a moment, as though he was checking to make sure you were okay with what he was about to do. When you knit your brows together and began sucking on your bottom lip — desperate for his touch — he shot you a cocky smirk before drawing his attention to what was in his direct line of sight. His hands slid from your waist down to your thighs, where he began massaging them slowly while simultaneously dropping wet kisses against your burning skin.

Reacting to this, you inadvertently spread your legs further apart. As you did, you felt his lips curl into a smile against your skin as he continued running his tongue against your inner thighs. While continuing to drive you crazy with his mouth, he brought his hands up to the zipper of your skirt. As he fiddled with with the metal, he spoke against your skin. “You want this?” A soft moan fell from your lips, eliciting a chuckle from his. “I need to hear you say it, baby.” He urged, causing your chest to rise and fall rapidly. “Y-yes.” You finally managed to reply, gasping for air as you did. At your response, Chris gently nibbled at the sensitive skin on your thigh, just below the end of your skirt, as he began sliding the black material down your legs. “Good girl.” He praised just as he let the skirt drop to your ankles.

Now with just your sheer panties between his warm mouth and the place you needed it the most, you began squirming as he took a moment to admire your barely-covered heat. He brought his hands up from their place on your thighs to the soft wisp of hair along your bikini line. You shivered in pleasure from his touch so close to where you were aching for him, and watched as his eyes seemed to grow enlivened by his view. “Didn’t expect you to be wearing something like this under that skirt.” He uttered, his voice thick with desire as he toyed with the sheer material. “What did I say about underestimating me?” You replied through your breathlessness.

With that, Chris looked up at you through his thick eyelashes, a smirk cemented into his face, before hooking his thumbs onto either side of your sheer thong and dragging it excruciatingly slow down your legs; until you were suddenly completely bare in front of him. As your pussy radiated desire just inches from his face, his smirk was replaced by one of agony; as if he was suddenly desperate to bury himself into its warmth. He grabbed both of your thighs, firmly pulling them further apart, before he ran his tongue slowly along your dripping slit; his eyes drilling into you as he did. You watched as a pool of your slippery arousal gathered on his tongue, and only once he swallowed your juices did his eyes flutter closed; officially losing himself.

You cried out as soon as his warm mouth wrapped around your pulsing clit, creating an infrangible suction that caused your hips to involuntarily buck into him. Chris moaned against your bundle of nerves, sheer enjoyment plastered to his softened expression, as you laced your thin fingers through his curly hair. “Jesus.” You moaned out incoherently, unable to form a genuine thought as Chris’s tongue worked you through shock waves of pleasure. He groaned against your pussy in response, his face completely buried in between your wet folds.

You gasped as you felt his finger begin to circle your hole, teasing your entrance as it begged him for more. Noticing your flexing walls and dripping arousal, Chris slipped two hooked fingers into your spongey cunt; pumping them into you with vigour as his mouth continued to work against your throbbing clit. The room filled with the wet sounds of Chris’s fingers plunging into you, and you felt that familiar tension in your lower stomach begin to grow nearly unbearable. Your grip on his hair tightened, and you couldn’t stop yourself from grinding your slick heat against his eager mouth.

“F-fuck C-Chris, I — FUCK!” You struggled to speak as you began to lose control of your body, writhing under his hold on you as though you were trying to run from your impending orgasm. In response, Chris’s fingers began to pump into you even quicker, drawing a long moan from your lips. “It’s okay baby,” He reassured you against your clit, his voice an octave lower than usual, “Make a mess all over me.” Your back arched against the door, his encouraging words drawing you closer to your orgasm. Chris used his free hand to grab your thigh, lifting it off the ground and resting it on his shoulder; granting him access to pump his thick fingers even deeper into you.

As he pounded his fingers into your g-spot relentlessly, your body momentarily stilled as you were hit with white-hot pleasure. “Fuck!” You cried out as the waves began crashing into you, causing your body to now begin to convulse uncontrollably. Your nails dug into his scalp as you struggled to stay upright throughout your earth-shattering orgasm. Once he felt your walls begin to pulse around his fingers, he quickly slid them out; allowing you to ride through your high as his mouth began ardently drinking up your warm juices.

As soon as he noticed your moans begin to calm down, he lifted you off of your shaky legs and carried you to the bed. As he walked, he effortlessly undid the many clips on the back of your corset; freeing your full tits and wrapping his wet, swollen lips around one. As he swirled his tongue around your pebbled nipple, he gently laid you down along the edge of his large bed. With a pop he pulled his mouth off of your tit before heedlessly unbuckling his pants and slipping them down his legs, before doing the same with his boxers. You watched in awe as his cock sprung free, feeling that insatiable need grow even stronger deep inside of you.

“Need to feel that soaked fucking pussy wrapped around my cock so fucking bad.” Chris murmured, collecting the fast-growing arousal from your slit on his fingers before using the slippery fluid to stroke his member a few times. Leaning down, he drew your lips to his in a desperate and sloppy kiss, and as he did you felt the girth of his tip pressing incessantly against your dripping entrance. Groaning in anticipation, you writhed under his grip and wrapped your legs around his waist.

Unable to hold back, Chris released a guttural moan against your cheek as he suddenly slammed every inch of himself into you. You cried out in pleasure as his cock pumped into you hard and fast without giving you a moment to adjust to his size. His incessant groans and sharp breathing let you know how good your pussy felt as it enveloped his swollen shaft. “C-Chris y-you’re hu-uge!” You managed to cry out, your eyes bulging from your head as you felt your walls stretch to accommodate his size.

At that, Chris lifted his head from your cheek and dropped his eyes to watch your swollen pussy as his cock continued to pound into it. He brought a hand to your lower stomach, pressing down so that you could see the bulge that his cock was imprinting into it. With an arrogant smile on his lips, he looked back up to your fucked-out face. “You’re takin’ it so good, baby.” His words made your head spin, and you released a loud moan as you gripped onto his arms. Chris looked back down at where your pussy was swallowing his cock, and you watched his jaw go slack as he seemed to relish in the magnificent pleasure that the sight brought him.

“This pussy was fuckin’ made for me.” He groaned out, his voice low as though he was speaking to himself rather than you. Still, his obsession drew another wave of pleasure through your body, and you desperately wanted to see what he was seeing. With shaky limbs, you managed to lift your shoulders up, resting the weight of your upper body on your elbows. You gasped as you watched Chris’s thick cock disappear inside of you again and again; pulling ribbons of your arousal out on each thrust and spreading them along your inner thighs and his lower stomach.

Chris’s eyes lifted up to yours, where they stayed as he continued to pound into you. Suddenly, he brought a veiny hand to your throat; gently squeezing the sides as he bit on his lower lip. “You see how fuckin’ pretty your pussy looks milking my cock?” You let your eyes drop back to the place where your bodies met, entranced by the sight of your bright pink lips wrapping around his length. “If I died inside of you right now, I would die a happy fucking man.” He leaned forward and melted his soft lips to yours, kissing you so deeply that your head spun.

Chris’s pace began to slow; becoming much sloppier. Deep grunts fell from his lips as he dropped his forehead onto your collarbone where he placed wet, open mouthed kisses as he plunged up into your g-spot. “Fuuuuck.” He hissed, his breath warm against your clammy skin as he seemed to get caught up in how good he was feeling. “Chris.” You breathed, your brain turning to mush as you felt every inch of his cock slip through your walls at this new, excruciatingly slow, pace.

Suddenly, his movements completely stilled as he leaned over you and grabbed a pillow from the top of his bed. He straightened himself up on top of you, grabbing your waist and lifting it effortlessly as he slid the pillow under your lower back. Confused, you look up at him with knitted brows; your chest rising and falling. Noticing your un-asked question, Chris spoke. “I’m gonna cum in a minute,” He said, slowly beginning to slide in and out of you again. “And when I do, I wanna feel your pussy convulsing around me.”

With that, Chris pressed one hand firmly onto your lower stomach while using two fingers to spread apart the protective hood above your clit. With his other hand, he brought his thumb to your exposed clit and began rubbing it gently; relishing in the way your body flexed erotically each time he did. Your moans slipped past your lips in helpless squeaks, feeling overstimulated by Chris’s direct contact with your bundle of nerves in unison with the added pressure in your gut caused by his hand pressing against it. “G-god!” You cried out, grabbing onto both of Chris’s wrists as he continued working your clit and fucking you senseless; unsure of whether you were trying to pull his hands away or keep them exactly where they were.

Chris’s eyes stayed glued to your swollen clit, but his breathing grew more and more ragged as he quickly approached his orgasm. You could feel his cock swelling inside of you as he struggled to hold himself back. “Fuck,” He growled, his cheeks even more flushed than before, “Cum for me baby, please.” His voice broke at the end of his sentence, a clear sign that he was on the edge of losing control. You felt your own walls begin to crash down, sending you closer and closer to what was sure to be an earth-shattering orgasm. “P-please — a-almost there.” You whined, your back arching off of the bed as you began to feel as though you were being lit on fire.

Chris dropped his forehead onto your chest, being sure to keep his movements the same as he released soft moans against your skin. “Come on sweetheart.” He grunted as he thrusted up into you, running dangerously low on will-power, “Let me feel you cum for me.” The gritty desperation in his voice was enough to finally push you over the edge. As soon as he felt that first intense pulse reverberate through your walls, he finally allowed himself to lose all control. His hips began pounding into you incessantly as your legs tightened around his waist. Deep, brutish moans fell from his lips on each thrust as his thumb continued to rub against your clit.

“Jesus fuck!” You cried out, feeling the pressure that had been building in your stomach release as you squirted against Chris’s pelvis. As you did, Chris’s thrusts suddenly stilled, and while his thumb toyed with your clit, he released a guttural moan before you felt his warm fluid spill into your quivering pussy. His swollen cock pulsed in between your walls, and you moaned in unison with him as he began to rock himself in and out of you slowly; using your tight pussy to milk himself dry.

Once both you and him came back down to earth, Chris collapsed into your chest; laying there for a moment as you both struggled to catch your breath. Your hands fell onto Chris’s curly hair, which you ran your fingers through slowly as he drew small circles on your hip bone; both of you helping the other get back to their sober minds.

After a short while, Chris planted an affectionate kiss to your chest before lifting himself up. He pulled out of you slowly, his glazed eyes watching as his cum dripped out of you. You watched as he reached over the edge of the bed and grabbed his discarded t-shirt. After shooting you a charming smile, he gently grabbed your right thigh, spreading it slightly before using the soft material of the t-shirt to delicately wipe away the mess he had made of you. “You sore?” He asked, his voice gentle as he gazed up at you. You nodded, looking up at him with a smile as you leaned back on your elbows. “Nothing I can’t handle.” You added, sticking your tongue out cheekily.

“I am gonna need your help with the corset again before we head back upstairs, though.” You sighed, gesturing to the discarded pile of lace and buckles on the floor. Chris’s eyes followed to where you pointed. “Or…” He began, tugging at the edge of his comforter, “We could just stay down here?” Your eyes drifted up to his face, and you were met with a sheepish, tired smile. Feeling a wave of relief wash over you, you crawled to the top of the bed and curled under the warm blanket. “Thank God.” You muttered, earning another smile from Chris before he followed you into the sheets.

He pulled you into his arms, and you closed your eyes at the comforting feeling of the warmth emanating from his naked body. Exhaustion began to immediately overtake you, and you felt yourself grow heavy in his arms. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back up?” You asked, worried that he might just feel obligated to be there with you, “You’re gonna miss out on all the fun.” Your voice was now thick with sleep. Chris chuckled, squeezing you gently in his arms. “All the fun is right here. I told you, Y/n, my sixth sense never fails me.”

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

[frownyalfred]

the idea of arkham patient bruce wayne has burrowed into the depths of my mind. this is SUCH a fascinating thought and changes so many things…how does the justice league fare without batman? how does alfred? i’d assume alfred is given bruce’s guardianship when he’s institutionalized, and i could even see him taking in the robins – finding and helping these children who remind him so much of his own boy, trying not to fail them as he failed bruce. how bruce himself does in arkham is so interesting to consider…is he kept on the same level of security as the real supervillains? is he moved there after Events? i can’t see him quietly or graciously accepting the kind of abuse towards patients that the guards and doctors like to heap on arkham’s inmates, or cheerfully putting up with attempts to “cure” him. prince of arkham brucie…so full of pain and anger and only getting angrier by the day, but full of love too, and despair that in gotham there’s almost nothing separating the mentally ill from the criminal element because in the eyes of the GCPD and the arkham psychiatrists being mentally ill is a crime unto itself…

on a somewhat lighter note, he still manages to drive the riddler batshit up the belfry just by existing. their intellectual cold war is the stuff of legend. whatever inciting thing bruce actually does to get himself admitted to arkham is negligible, in my mind he ends up staying there mostly because of the batman-level shenanigans and bullshit he gets up to once he’s inside. he’s not as violent as killer croc or joker, but he’s driven and brilliant and filled with the kind of vengeance that nothing short of complete lobotomy will take from him, and that makes him a completely different kind of impossible for the staff to keep under control. he can give jim gordon gray hairs by sitting quietly and doing nothing and that brings him all kinds of petty satisfaction

i love the superbat element to this too. i feel like with nothing else distracting him bruce could figure out Mild-Mannered Reporter Clark Kent in a much shorter period of time, and he’d totally keep clark in the dark about that while waxing poetic about how gotham deserves a hero to take care of her, not just abandon her to ruin (as the patients of arkham so often are) (as the city herself has been, because she’s only ever superman’s third thought, after metropolis and the world, and if the man of tomorrow doesn’t see the point in fighting for her than who else will bother?)

Arkham Prince Bruce Wayne??? I am obsessed. Obsessed. I imagine he’s in there because he wouldn’t stop killing people. Like the first few scenes of Batman Begins, where he’s convinced that shooting Chill will solve his problems…maybe the universe doesn’t stop him then. Maybe he never finds Ra’s. Maybe he starts going higher and higher up the chain of corruption, taking out the high profile politicians and businessmen he thinks have poisoned this city. Who were responsible for his parents’ deaths. They put him in Arkham because surely a man like that is insane. But is he?

Because yes, the two most important things he has are his brilliance and his care for the city. This Bruce Wayne doesn’t pretend, doesn’t dull himself for the benefit of the people around him. His care for Gotham is apparent in every word he speaks to Clark. And it’s his city, damn it. Even from in here.

[mellowmusings]

Blessed mistakes | part 1 Azriel x reader

prologue

A/N—I wasn't even going to continue this series, but thank you all for the love I get on my fics. I literally love you all so much. Let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list. Summary- After over 5 centuries of waiting Azriel hasn't found his mate, given up all hope of any chance of finding her he decides to start pursuing Elain, not seeing what was in front of him all along.

Part One: Silent Distance

The days had become quieter, colder. Azriel had hardly noticed the shift at first. There had been no sharp, clear break, no moment of realization that something between him and Y/N had changed. It was more like the subtle dimming of light, a slow fading that he couldn't quite place, and by the time he realized the distance, it felt too late to fix.

He was busy. Always busy. Missions, meetings, responsibilities—his life had become a blur of endless duties, all of which he threw himself into with a fervor that bordered on obsession. Every waking moment was occupied with something—someone. His brothers, his work, and, in the rare quiet moments, the heavy weight of his own thoughts.

But through all of that, there had been Y/N. Always there. Always steady. Always understanding. She had been his anchor, his confidante. She always knew when to stay silent, when to speak, when to pull him out of his head and into the present. He had always relied on her in ways he hadn’t even fully understood.

It wasn’t that Azriel didn’t care. He did. More than he could admit, especially to himself. But there were things he couldn’t change—things like his duties and his... impossible feelings. Feelings for someone who would never see him the way he saw her. And that someone was always there, too, always lingering just outside of his reach. It was easier, in some ways, to focus on the work, to throw himself into the mission, to avoid the vulnerability of his own emotions.

And so, he did.

Y/N had stopped coming around as often. She was still there, in the background, but it was clear she wasn’t the same. She didn’t linger after meetings anymore. She didn’t tease him, didn’t joke like she used to. Her presence, once a constant comfort, had become a quiet thing—distant, even when she was standing right next to him. She seemed to slip away, a little more each day, but Azriel didn’t notice, not at first.

It wasn’t until he found himself in the war room late one evening, alone with his thoughts, that he felt it. The absence. The silence in the air that was too thick, too suffocating. He looked up from the maps strewn across the table, expecting to see Y/N by the door or leaning against the wall, ready to offer some lighthearted comment about how the plan was absurd. But she wasn’t there.

He frowned, a small pang of unease flaring in his chest. He hadn’t seen her much lately, had barely spoken to her in the last few days. Busy, he reminded himself. He was busy, after all. But it didn’t sit right.

Azriel left the war room in search of her, making his way down the familiar corridors of the House of Wind. He passed Mor’s room first, saw the flicker of light under the door, and for a moment, the idea of knocking—of spending time with her—felt... comforting. But he didn’t. He couldn’t focus on that right now.

Finally, he found her. Y/N was sitting alone in the garden, her back to him, staring out at the moonlit horizon. She looked so small, like a silhouette against the night. It struck him, in that moment, how much he missed her presence. How long had it been since they’d shared a quiet evening like this, just the two of them? How long had it been since she’d smiled like she meant it?

"Y/N?" His voice was tentative, unsure, as though he wasn’t sure if he should disturb the quiet of the night.

She turned slightly, just enough for him to see her face. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but she blinked quickly, brushing it off. "I didn’t hear you come in," she said, her voice flat.

He frowned, taking a few steps toward her. "Are you alright?"

"I’m fine," she said quickly, her smile tight and forced. It didn’t reach her eyes. "Just needed some space."

Azriel hesitated, his instincts telling him that something was wrong. He knelt down beside her, his eyes searching her face. "Y/N..." He trailed off, unsure of how to push through the wall she’d built between them. "What’s going on?"

She met his gaze, her lips pressed together in a thin line. The silence stretched between them, heavy and thick, before she finally spoke, her voice low. "I’m not sure I belong here anymore, Az."

His chest tightened at her words, but he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t find the words. She wasn’t the one to pull away, not like this. Not so... cold.

"You’re still my friend, Y/N," he finally said, his voice low, almost too soft.

She nodded, her expression unreadable. "I know. But that’s the thing, Az. I’m just... a friend." The words hung in the air between them like a curse.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The weight of the unspoken truth crashed over him. Y/N had always been more than a friend to him, but he had never been able to show her that. She had never been anything more than a shadow behind the love he couldn’t admit, a shadow he had taken for granted.

"I’ve been thinking," she continued, her voice trembling just slightly, but her gaze remained steady. "I need to leave for a while. I volunteered for diplomatic work—there’s a mission to the Autumn Court. I’ll be gone for some time."

Azriel blinked, surprised, and instinctively reached out for her arm. "What? No, Y/N. You don’t have to go. You don’t need to leave."

But her eyes were already averted, a distance between them that he couldn’t cross. "I think I do, Az. I think I need to get away from here. From you."

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. She didn’t wait for him to respond, didn’t wait for him to make things right, because she knew that things couldn’t be fixed. Not anymore.

"I’ll be gone in a few days," she said quietly, standing up, brushing the dirt off her clothes. "I hope you’ll be... alright."

Azriel watched her walk away, his heart sinking lower with each step she took. She didn’t look back, didn’t wait for him to say anything else. And as she disappeared into the darkness of the hall, Azriel finally felt it. The sting of something lost. The realization that he had been too blind to see it, too focused on his own distractions to notice what had been right in front of him all along. taglist- @anarchiii @er1023 @clementine111002 @sunnyspycat

[nmakii]

inspired by @kaislvves’s bastard post… ps: i acc love dior sauvage its my scent for when i go to school but its so strong HAHAHAHA

kaiser’s cologne has an overwhelming scent. not just in a way that two sprays could fill the entire bastard münchen cafeteria in his scent, but also in a way that lasts. his scent lasts on for a week before it finally wears off.

what’s his scent? dior sauvage, the scent of liars. kaiser likes the overwhelming presence of its’ scent; it’s as powerful as he is.

he loves to spray his cologne all over your closet and clothes, making sure that whatever you wear, and whatever perfume you try to wear to overpower it, you end up on the other side smelling of him.

it’s adorable how you spray on your 70 euro hermès perfume, checking out your outfit in the full-body mirror in your bedroom, before you’re coughing and choking on his overwhelming scent.

“mikka!” you shout out. “stop spraying your perfume on my clothes, it’s so strong!” you frown. his attention is finally raised away from his phone when he finally looks up to you, small circle-framed glasses starting to slide down his nose before he pushes it up with his middle finger.

“why should i? i like doing it.” he simply states. that’s just how he was; how he was raised— if he wants something, he must do everything to take it. likewise, if he wants to keep something, he has to make sure no one else steals it.

and with a job that forces him to almost always be out of country, he can’t help but worry about his rose. what if another piece of trash tries to flirt with you while you’re vulnerable? the overwhelming, almost sickly scent of citrus and pepper would be enough to tell them to back off; you’re already taken by another man.

“yeah; well, i don’t like it. it always lingers for too long.” you explain. and to kaiser, your explanation is moronic. “…that’s the point of a cologne; to linger.” he bluntly states. you roll your eyes at his smart-assed response, and scoff, “ugh— duh, but it stays on for days!”

kaiser only shrugs. “good. everyone knows you’re taken.” he’s quite adamant to telling the media what fragrance he uses. it’s odd, but he always encourages his interviewers to smell him in at least one point of the interview, giving him the chance to comment on his fragrance. it’s become a bit of a meme in his fandom that he wants to get sponsored by dior. but, no.

this isn’t about money.

it’s about everyone knowing his scent.

like a wolf marking his territory, kaiser leaves his scent on what he owns. and what he owns is you; your heart. it’s not enough that you love him with your heart as much as he cherishes you— he needs others to feel him spiritually when you’re nearby.

“this is stupid, mikka. none of my perfumes linger anymore cause of your dumb sauvage.” you scoff. and, kaiser stands up from his place in the bedroom, moving behind you. his overwhelming height makes for an awkward position when he rests his arms on your shoulders, and his jaw on your forehead. he stares at the reflection in the mirror, admiring of his and your beauty. the glint in his eyes is dangerous— as dangerous as the cheshire grin he proudly displays before he completely destroys an opponent in a match.

“would you want different kind of physical marking then?” he asks. his fingers delicately ghosting to touch the ticklish parts of your neck.

“…no.” you roll your eyes. kaiser sneers.

“then, you’ll have to stick with the cologne.”

[nerdyydragon]

Also notable: I rarely see anyone say this about, like, romance movies (at least in earnest; there are soooo many other discourses about romance as a genre, but this isn't one I've seen).

Nobody says "noooo, don't go into the quaint little small-town café, Miss New York Businesswoman Protagonist! No, you're so goddamned dumb for talking to the guy who literally collided with you walking in the door!! You're so effing stupid for allowing him to pick up the papers you dropped!

Nobody says "Character is ridiculous for not trying to avoid freezing to death by huddling for warmth in the cabin!"

Nobody says "but they should know better!" about romance plots, unless it's some "love thine enemy" thing where logically the character should know better than to fall in love with the tragic, handsome villain who just tried to have them killed/kidnapped/dethroned/etc., but even then. The characters in a romance plot don't somehow miraculously know they're in a romance, they just know that they've encountered a [charming stranger] [mysterious rival] [new understanding of their childhood bestie] [any and all trope pairings that apply] and that, as they go about their day, Shit Happens. Compared to other genres it might be comparably low-stakes because nobody's in danger of getting stabbed (maybe, who knows, it could happen), but they don't posses foreknowledge of the events because they're not aware that this sequence of events is something like "A Duke for the Holidays" instead of "just another goddamned Tuesday".

We know.

We're supposed to know.

While part of me rails against an easy reliance on trope marketing, primarily when it supersedes any and all notions of telling me what the gods-damned book is about, as an audience we are, consciously or otherwise, aware of tropes and trends and patterns. We know, as the audience, that in a small-town romance film Miss New York Businesswoman Protagonist is going to break up with her boyfriend who never has time for her and shack up with the hunky father of two who works as a conservationist for a near-extinct, totally-not-made-up species of butterfly that only reproduces every six years under the light of a falling star, or something*. That's how the plot works.

Half the fun is figuring out how it happens.

Half the scare is figuring out how it happens, because horror, like romance, has a pretty defined end (though it isn't always death, but that's pretty clear from the beginning when that's the case).

I'm a spec-fic author. I'm working on a gothic sci-horror novel that, in its alpha stages, has scared the bejesus out of my reader to the point where she thinks the monster is going to appear in her house. She keeps feeling like she's being watched. We're 2/3 of the way through and she's paranoid to the point where she can't actually read the thing for long stretches of time even if she desperately wants to. I also write fantasy, and there are tropes and expectations that I rely on there, as well. But gods, I'm so tired of people (beyond the half-terror under a blanket "no, don't go in there!!!" response, without acknowledging that it must happen) not applying the same logic to horror protagonists as they do to those of other genres. They're not dumb.

Horror isn't dumb.

It's profoundly, utterly human in its terror.

And to the main point of the post: nothing Jonathan Sims (Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London) could have done would have averted the ending to his story. He's a brilliant mind cracking under strain, attempting to wrangle forces well beyond human comprehension that prey on his being a brilliant mind attempting to wrangle them. The Entities, on occasion, give him what he wants. He learns. He grows.

Until he becomes a monster himself.

There are so many versions of the story, littered with alternate choices and voltas and changes in patterns. "No" instead of "yes" that eventually becomes "yes", anyway, because it has to.

A big-city businesswoman, visiting her aging father for Christmas, walks into a coffee shop and runs headlong into her widowed highschool sweetheart after years away.

A gallant knight, stripped of his armour, raises a sword to protect the princess and slay the dragon.

A PI cracks a cold-case that's been haunting the local police for years after they stumble on new evidence, almost by accident.

Almost by a miracle.

A brave starship captain lays down their life to save an entire planet, millions of lives, because it is right, and at the last second is retrieved by advanced technology created by a society that cares.

Jonathan Sims does the best he can with the information he has, and he almost makes it out in the end.

Until he doesn't.

There is no other version of the story.

----

*I was being mostly facetious in this claim but a part of me actually really wants a low-stakes cozy romantasy in this setting. I can't write that type of stake to save my life (even my fanfiction has to have something life-threatening, so no butterflies for me) so if that prompt strikes your fancy, feel free to steal it and modify however needed. Just... let me know if you ever finish it.

JONATHAN ARCHIVIST IS NOT STUPID SQUAD I WILL ALWAYS BE WITH YOU