#I feel like if I find his eyes or his lips nice it's one thing

[luveline]

could you write bombshell!reader getting a tattoo of spencer’s name or something that reminds her of him and his reaction please?

“Why are you kissing me?” you mumble, your voice hoarse with sleep. 

They’re light kisses. “I’m going now,” Spencer says, matching your quiet tone. 

“No.” 

You wrap your arm behind his neck and feel his hair against your wrist. His nose and lips warm your jaw. 

“Yes.” He kisses your jaw. “I have to go, but I didn’t wanna leave without a kiss.” 

That’s really sweet, he’s so sweet, you’re so tired. “Please don’t go, Spencer.” 

“I have to go.” He readjusts your hugging to hum against your temple, distinctly content despite your pleading. “I’ll be back by six for dinner, promise.” 

“Promise,” you say.

You get to keep him for a few minutes, regardless. His neck must sing bent as he is over you but he doesn’t relent, doesn’t move until you encourage his face back to kiss just under his bottom lip. “Sorry, I’m making you late,” you whisper. 

“No, no, I accounted for this. You’re on my agenda.” 

“How much time did you allot?” you ask through a smile. 

“Seventeen minutes. That’s how long we usually hug in the morning.” 

“Gotta get that time down,” you say. 

“Or up.” He holds your face. You turn your head into his touch and keep him for just another half a minute. 

“Okay,” you mumble, letting your eyes flutter closed again, “you can leave, I’m gonna go back to sleep.” 

“Good idea.” He kisses you, and he says goodbye. You’re sleeping again before he’s even left your room

When you wake properly, you still feel loved, like a sunburn but with less stinging. There’s something very special about your boy; something permanent about the way he loves. You can’t imagine he’ll ever stop loving you like this, he’s embedded you so deeply into his life and his routines (and you’d beg him to keep you if he ever changed his mind). That in itself is crazy. You can’t have imagined begging a guy to let you stay, but for Spencer, you would.  

When he comes home that night, half an hour before six, you have no regrets. 

You hadn’t noticed how he was dressed when he left, but he looks lovely in just a simple t-shirt and jeans. Remarkably casual for him, you used to think he only wore t-shirts to bed, but the older he gets the better propensity he has for comfort. What makes it for you is the cardigan. 

“You look nice,” you praise, more than satisfied when the first thing he does after he takes off his shoes is lean down to hug you where you’re sitting on his couch. 

“Thank you.” He pats your back and pulls away. “You’re beautiful,” he says with ease, like he’s commenting on the weather. “Good day?” 

Your lips pucker into a twist. 

“What?” he asks. 

Unfortunately, he sounds deeply worried. 

“No, it’s nothing, I just hurt my arm. Can you have a look?” 

Spencer takes your arm. “What did you do?” he asks, pulling the sleeve of your shirt carefully up to your elbow. The Saran wrap confuses him, until it doesn’t, and he grins at your skin, before frowning again. His flickering emotions worry you, until he says, “Is that mine?” 

You hold your arm in the light. “Of course it’s yours?” 

It’s just a few words from a note he wrote you, perhaps too soon into your relationship for sweetness, and yet one you kept anyways. He told you the story of the I Love You lighthouse, or rather, the Minot Ledge lighthouse, and how the man who lived there had to live on a different island to his family while tending the lighthouse, so he would flash the light once, then four times, and then three times, one flash for every letter of each corresponding word: I love you. The note was left on your dresser. You’d slept together the night before, but he had to leave early. Nowadays he wakes you up, but  back then he’d been too shy. 

I want to be able to do that for you but I can’t find a lighthouse in D.C. that will let me in to try. I’ll keep looking. 

“I’ll keep looking,” Spencer reads. His thumb heistates just under your small font.

“It’s from that note you left me.”

“I know, I remember.” He does his awful frowny face where his eyelids lower and you're sure he’ll never smile again, he looks that upset. “You know this is permanent?”

“They do tend to be,” you say with a lovelorn sigh. 

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I should kiss you, or hug you, or… I don’t know why you’d do this.”

“But it’s okay?” you ask. It could make for a very awkward conversation if he doesn't like it.

“It’s perfect.” He holds your gaze. “You’re perfect.”

He acts like your tattoo is a gaping wound as he moves in to hug you, careful of your new ink, but relentless in the tightness of his arms behind your back. You laugh, then squeal at his insistence, a giggly girly thing that nobody else should ever hear but him. He doesn’t make fun of you, just squeezes you to him, his face pressed so hard to yours you can feel his cheekbones. 

“Now I just have to say something romantic for you to get tattooed and we’ll be equal again.’

“So we aren’t equal?”

“Um, no way.” Your laugh is self-satisfied and breathless. You turn your lips to his cheek. “I love you. I’m gonna build you a lighthouse.”

“Can’t believe you kept that note.”

“I have a whole shoebox of them. I love that you write them.”

He stops holding himself up, half on the couch and half in your lap as he hugs you with every bit of strength in his arms.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Imagine...Discovering Soldier Boy's Secret

Pairing: Soldier Boy x reader

Warnings: language

_______

You were exhausted when you finally got home. Work had been long and stressful. On top of that, you’d needed to hit the grocery store afterwords since you were down to basics. You were so flippin’ tired though that the second you had everything put away, you pulled out your phone and ordered a pizza with some sides.

You had a good thirty minutes before it’d arrive and you figured you’d put on something relaxing, maybe find where Ben was. His car was in the driveway and all his shoes were by the door so he was around there somewhere. 

Five minutes later you were in a pair of joggers, a bralette and one of Ben’s black t-shirts. The man only wore black, gray or navy blue shirts and jeans when he wasn’t in his uniform. You couldn’t blame the guy too much for not caring about fashion but you were hoping someday he might spice things up with a little color.

While in the bedroom, you noticed the bathroom door was shut which was strange. You always left it open unless someone was taking a shower. But you didn’t hear anything going inside.

“Ben are-” you said, pausing halfway with the door open. Welp, you’d found where he was.

Which was apparently sitting in your large soaker tub with a mountain of bubbles surrounding him.

He was taking a goddamn bubble bath. Your Ben. Your Soldier Boy. Your favorite arrogant asshole.

He seemed stuck, eyes a few fractions too wide, unblinking as you stared back at him, the scent of lavender and vanilla filling the room.

“Are-” You stared when he shot his hand up out of the water, pointing it at you like you you’d just run over his puppy.

“Not. A. Word.” You knew better than to aggravate him, at least right now. You slowly closed the door and went downstairs, throwing on a home renovation show. Ben didn’t appear until after the food came, decked out in a pair of flannel pajama pants and a red t-shirt. Okay, it was more maroon than anything but still. You’d bought it for him six months ago and hung it next to the other dozen colorful shirts you wondered if he’d ever wear. 

You stared at him, Ben ignoring you as he slapped three slices on a plate, plopped down on the couch and started to devour his dinner.

You flipped open the food on the coffee table, filling up your own plate, giving him another look, his own fixated on the screen playing before you.

“Stop staring at me,” he growled. You sunk back into the cushions, eating a few fries before you couldn’t help it.

“So.”

“Y/N…”

“Bubble baths.” He audibly growled, giving you a stern look to drop it. “You know, John Wayne took bubble baths.”

Ben was silent, angrily ripping off his crust with a large bite.

“Even if he didn’t, I think it’s nice.” Ben looked ready to bolt away to avoid this conversation but somehow he forced himself to stay seated. “Listen. I know this is going to sound stupid but it makes me feel good knowing you do something for yourself when I’m not around. It makes me feel like maybe you listen to me about the whole you’re deserving of nice things even though you’re a guy.”

Ben’s chewing was less infused with anger, all you’d get out of him that he was actually practicing a bit of self-care. 

“Want a beer?” you said, standing up. He grunted as you walked around the couch, ruffling his damp hair. “You look handsome in that color.”

The corner of his lip ticked up for a split second but you caught it. He was happy, at ease and that was more than enough for you.

__________

[webslingingslasher]

interest peaked… how the turn tables

how does trouble react when peter bites her? 🎤

'trouble?'

'reading.'

'trouble?'

'go away.'

'trouble!'

you promise yourself that this is the one and only time you'll give into him. your face must show how annoyed you are because peter softens you right up with 'i love you.'

'aw. i love you too, handsome.' you wait for more, he doesn't offer anything. you lean over for a quick kiss before settling back into his sheets. the second your eyes are back on your book, peter bids for more attention.

'cuddles?'

you're not moving a thing, peter said you could read all afternoon if you wanted and you're going to do it. you pat your chest while shifting down, if he wants a cuddle, he has to come to you.

'i'm reading.' peter doesn't need another clue, he's pushing himself up and moving to lay on top of you. his weight adds a nice pressure, subconsciously a hand finds itself dragging through his curls while the other supports your book.

'trouble?' it's a whisper, you respond with 'shh.' your hand slowly stills the further you find yourself invested in the story, peter doesn't like it one bit. you hit the next chapter, honing in on heavy dialogue you're taken from reality and thrown into the page.

you jump, a soft yelp tumbles from your lips while your book drops and you push at peter's cheek. 'ow, ow, ow, ow! stop biting, stop biting!' peter digs his teeth in further, you whine and try to hold him back, it hurts more.

'peter,' you plead with his name and it's enough to make him let up. 'what? you've got very yummy arms.' it's the same excuse you use on him, you frown and stare at the soft indent he left behind.

'you bit me.'

'payback. let me get another.' you squirm away, 'no!' peter catches your arm and holds you still, you're still trying to fight him off when he latches on to the meat of your bicep. 'you're nibbling, i don't nibble!' it's a lie, you use him like a chew toy and you should be thankful he's being so easy on you.

peter lightly thrashes his head from side to side, it's like a dog with a bone. peter's the one with a pain kink, not you. 'i don't like it! i bite, you kiss, that's the rule!'

sweet relief, your attention lost from your damp skin by falling into the deep pits of peter's eyes. they're so pretty that you could spend limitless hours just looking at them.

'i'd kiss you if i could have your attention for two seconds.'

'then ask me!' peter blinks, a small frown forms. 'i tried. you shut me out.' he was pining for your attention and went for the one thing that would rip you from your alternate universe.

'does my petey want some love?'

a tender kiss is placed where his teeth were a minute ago. 'just a little.' you could set aside a few minutes, your book wasn't going anywhere.

'okay, give me hugs.' you ready yourself for a blanket of peter, instead he shakes his head and uses a hand to hold himself up, over you. 'no hugs. kisses.'

'what if i want hugs?'

peter said what he said. 'kisses.'

'hugs.'

a pretend grumpy face, he surprises you with a peck. 'kisses.' you poke his shoulder. 'kisses always mean more to you, i know your secrets.'

'no secrets, i promise. can't a guy just makeout with his girlfriend without being interrogated?'

your eyebrows raise, 'from kisses to a makeout. see? i knew there was something up with you.' peter takes a deep breath and eases into that smile. the one full of boyish charm, the one that makes you feel warm and giddy under his touch because it feels like he's undressing you in his mind.

'trouble,' you lose all air when he places a barely there kiss on your lips. 'please let me kiss you.' you can't think straight when he whispers against you like this, especially when he's pleading.

'you can kiss me.' it's just as quiet, you can feel peter's smile when he leans in. he's so gentle you tug him closer by his shirt, in ten seconds you're pressing up and begging him for more.

you halfway notice when peter sets your book on his nightstand, this time you can't blame him for starting more than just a kiss. but you will.

'just a makeout, huh?'

'it's a paperback. we don't wanna crush it, right?'

'next time don't be so sneaky and just fuck me from behind while i'm reading.'

a sharp inhale, peter's pupils blow wide. an aggressive kiss, your bottom lip might be bruised in the morning. 'don't tempt me with a good time, trouble.'

'it's not tempting if i'm asking.' another kiss, peter can't hide his love if he tried.

'have i ever told you that you're the best thing to ever happen to me?'

[cerisereids]

𝘄𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝗻’𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀 (𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲)- 𝗮.𝗵. [𝗽𝘁. 𝟮]

masterlist, part one

wc- 5.2k

pairing- aaron hotchner x fem!rossi!reader

summary- down on your luck after a huge betrayal, you return to live at your father's house with your tail between your legs. you're humiliated, thoroughly convinced nothing good could come from returning home. then you meet aaron hotchner.

warnings- sfw, age gap (27-mid 40s), i’m spreading the italian american agenda w rossi!reader, reader lowkey has daddy issues but they’re working on it, alcohol use, jack is 7, rich old italian people antics, we love bonding w jack, hotch and r turn each other on w brownies??, insane sexual tension

a/n- dividers from @saradika-graphics and @reveriesources !!!

aaron straightens his tie in the mirror one final time, smoothing his hands down the front of his navy suit jacket.

“jack! let’s go!” he calls up the steps, followed soon by footsteps pattering down the steps.

“i’m coming, dad!” he whines, his voice high pitched, but loving all the same as he exits his bedroom.

aaron can’t help the pride swarming deep in his chest as he looks at his son in his christmas best, clad in a perfectly tailored dark green suit that nearly mirrors his completely. the invite said formal, and aaron doesn’t think he did too poorly. he’d learned to dress himself for work long ago, therefore transferring that knowledge to his son has so far proven to be quite easy. so far.

“alrighty, after you, kiddo,” he smiles down at the boy and holds the front door open with his back. he attempts to find his keys, juggling everything from christmas bags to wine bottles in his grasp, until he feels small fingers reaching into his pants pocket.

“here,” jack states, deadpanned, keyring dangling off his index finger.

“thanks, buddy,” he smiles, “can you hit unlock for me?” he does, which allows aaron to finally free his hands and get them to the party in one piece.

the large house is already bustling, aglow with golden christmas lights laced through the large bushes out front, a jolly statue of santa welcoming whoever may cross the threshold. penelope lets them in, greeting him with a large hug that was no doubt induced by the hard eggnog jj makes every year.

“hi, penelope,” he smiles warmly down at her, pleased to be seeing the people he so deeply cares for in a positive environment, for once.

jack is quick to find henry, off to run amok throughout david’s expansive home. he sets the wine down on the wide kitchen island, cluttered with an array of appetizers, desserts, and various drinks. he pours himself a whiskey, and nearly drops the glass when he turns to exit, stopped in his tracks by her.

“hello, aaron,” the girl before him says gently. her manicured hands coil cunningly around her wine glass, red silk sculpting her figure in a way that makes his brain short circuit.

the sound of his name on her lips takes his breath away, and all he can muster is a hushed, “hi,” he’s unable to take his eyes off you.

his eyes can’t help but dip lower than he let them the other week, committing the peaks and valleys of her curves in that dress to memory. he’s thankful for the vibrant scene surrounding you in the busy kitchen, lest he made it unbearably awkward.

“whatcha got there?” she nods at his drink, and it zaps him back to reality like an electrical shock.

“oh!” he gasps, his gaze snapping down to his glass, “just-whiskey…it seems your father knows what i like,” he smiles sheepishly, his fingers patting against the cold glass.

“one thing italian men never mess around with is good liquor,” she smiles cunningly, stealing the remaining bits of breath from his lungs, “cheers,” she raises her glass to him and he clinks his against it, his eyes never leaving hers for one second.

“nice to see you, aaron,” she coos and places a soft hand on his forearm, wide doe eyes boring into his before exiting the kitchen. her hand lingers on him until it’s no longer physically possible, her nails scraping down his forearm as she goes. a shiver unzips down his spine, both at the touch, and at the sudden loss of her warmth.

“cheers,” he breaths out, after she’s gone. his eyes fall shut in the wake of her perfume, notes of jasmine and cedar left wafting through the air. he can’t help but take a quick inhale, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head.

he plows five fingers through his hair before taking a large gulp of whiskey. he needs to get it together. what is he, 15?

a sly whistle approaching from his left keeps him from his spiral. his eyes jokingly roll as he sees derek saunter up to him, penelope close in tow.

“aa-ron hotch-ner,” derek stresses each syllable, clapping his hand on aaron’s shoulder.

aaron hides a smirk behind another sip of the brown liquid in his glass, the smokiness coating his throat.

“now what was all that about?” derek points a thumb in the direction she walked off on, an arm slung over aaron’s shoulder. he purses his lips, gaze tilted downwards to mask the hint of red dusting his cheeks.

“nothing. that was nothing,” he turns to look at derek, and he knows the glint in his eyes gives him away entirely.

“you sly dog,” derek nudges aaron’s shoulder with his own, before leaving him to refill his drink, now alone with penelope.

“sir…” she gives him a knowing stare, leaning her forearms against the kitchen island.

he holds up a finger, eyes wide in an attempt to delay the inevitable, a smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth, “penelope. don’t,” he asserts, but the childlike giddiness fluttering through his chest invokes a cheeky grin that prevents his sternness from having any real effect.

she lifts her finger, mirroring his, “sir…” she says again, higher pitched this time, a sense of urgency seizing her tone.

“penelope…” he repeats himself, urgent tone matching hers, his eyebrow quirking.

he catches the quickest flash of red from his peripheral, and he double takes, his attention immediately stolen by her lighting up the living room. his heart squeezes with a sudden urge to meet her there, to place his hand on the small of her back and revel in her story, to be there for her. it’s all he’d thought about since he met her, in her father’s kitchen, where he now stands once more.

ever since that godforsaken night, when he needed to borrow a globe of all things, he’s laid awake at night, grasping onto her soft vanilla scent. it was a complete contrast to the seductive aroma she spritzed on for tonight, though she was intoxicating no matter what. he thought of the alcohol on that wafted off her tongue, how badly he wanted to just lean down and taste it.

in his daze, he forgets penelope is there. she follows his line of sight and snaps her gaze back toward him, “sir!” she gushes, her tone incredulous. her smile is scandalous, but proud. it’s a knowing smile, one that knows exactly what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling, something he doesn’t really quite know himself yet.

his eyes dart to either side before leaning into her slightly, “we never had this conversation,” he mumbles lowly, raising a pointed brow at her. her eyes widen, because this time, there was no smile masking his intensity.

the flared sleeves of your silk dress fall down your arm, showcasing your tennis bracelets. the gold and diamonds sparkle in the soft glow of golden christmas lights wound through the comically large christmas tree standing proud in the living room. you grasp the stem of your wine glass as you squeeze into the eager arms of uncles, cousins, and old family friends.

old, italian men take up every square inch of the living room, wine glasses in hand, all waiting with rapt anticipation to hear stories from new york. the pride in their eyes prods at your stomach like a fire iron.

you appease them anyway, indulging in emotionally safe memories, like the time you drunkenly walked across the street in the middle of times square just to get a slice of pizza.

that earns you a robust roar of laughter, and the sound reminds you of all the christmases you’ve spent in this very room. the smell of cigars they carry on their suit jackets, the wine that will inevitably stain their mustaches, it all invokes a pang of nostalgia coiling around your heart, squeezing until you’re near tears.

“look at you! our topolina all grown up!” your oldest uncle squeezes your cheeks together, and you gently clasp your free hand around his wrist.

“and she still manages to come see her papà for christmas!” another one of your uncles calls out in sarcastic annoyance. the low mumble of hearty chuckles fills the room, and you force a smile on your lips.

your heart twists around itself as you absorb the loving gazes of the men who have watched you grow, who have rooted for you from the moment you were born. a sinking feeling settles in your stomach, you can’t help but feel you’ve let them all down, you’ve let your father down, by returning here.

when you got accepted into nyu, your family was over the moon. they threw parties, you received gifts, money, one of your uncles even called his real estate buddy over in new york and cut you a deal on an apartment. guilt pools in your stomach like acid, because they don’t know. they don’t know you’re not just here for the holidays, they don’t know about your failure.

a small body knocks you out of your shame-spiral, and you nearly spill your wine on yourself.

“oh! i’m sorry, ma’am!” a young boy exclaims, reaching to pick up the pieces of the toy that clattered to the floor. you smile at the boy, he didn’t mean it after all. the furrow of his brows and stressed tone tells you that much.

“that’s okay, sweetie!” you squat down as much as you can in the silk encasing your body, helping him pick up any remaining pieces he missed, “here you go!”

“thanks!” he smiles toothily at you, and you can’t help but feel a pang of deja vu deep in your chest, like you’ve seen his face somewhere before.

it compels you to ask, “hey, what’s this all about?” referring to his, what seems to be very intricate, lego set.

“it’s a lego plane! could you please help me put it together again?” he grins at you, and you return it.

“of course!” you reply, eager to escape the guilt that’s swirling through your stomach like a whirl pool.

you and the boy, who’s introduced himself as jack, sit tucked in the corner of the living room, hidden by the expansive christmas tree. you click pieces into place and revel in the sweet boy’s satisfaction.

“you’re pretty good at this!” he exclaims, and you send him a sweet grin.

“thanks! i had lots of experience when i was your age,” you state in a light, airy voice, and he giggles.

“you don’t play legos anymore?” he inquires, so genuine and earnest your heart aches.

“no, i don’t. maybe i should, though,” you consider, handing him a piece of the wing.

“yeah, you totally should!” he replies, as if it were that easy to hold onto your childhood, “if you don’t play legos, what do you do for fun?”

you laugh at the insinuation in his tone, and ponder his question.

“i like to write…” you trail off, unsure of what else to say about that. luckily, jack solves your problem for you.

“you write for fun? my teacher makes me do that!” he scrunches up his nose and you laugh. it’s a genuine one, one that comes from your belly and throws your head back.

“would it make things better or worse if i said my other hobby is reading?” you jokingly raise a brow at the boy, and he groans in disgust, spurring on additional bouts of laughter from the both of you.

jack clicks the final piece into place, his eyes lighting up as he holds the finished product in the air, moving it above his head like an actual airplane.

“nice teamwork, man!” you hold up your hand for a high five, which he eagerly accepts.

“thanks for helping me! teamwork is key. that’s what my dad always tells me,” he states nonchalantly, eyes trained on the aircraft balancing delicately in his hands.

“your dad sounds like a smart man,” you smile, “you’re pretty lucky you got such a cool toy, too.”

“yeah, i am,” he smiles to himself, and his sincerity warms your heart, “my dad didn’t get me this, though. it’s from my uncle dave,” he states matter of factly, completely innocent to the information he just gave you.

“your uncle dave? like the man who threw this party uncle dave?” you verify, and he nods. your heart rate picks up as the puzzle pieces in your mind click into place. it couldn’t be. could it?

“jack?” you hear a familiar voice call, and your heart drops to your stomach, that final piece snapping into place. of course. “jack, where are you buddy?”

“right here, dad!” he leaps out from behind the tree and you reluctantly follow suit, nearly tripping over the hem of your dress in a weak attempt to stand.

you make eye contact with aaron once you’re stable on two feet. you’re unable to take your eyes off him, really. he takes pause when he sees you, and it’s like the world tilts off its axis, completely freezing in time. a hint of confusion laces his gaze, but it’s mostly masked by an air of desire as his eyes flit quickly over your frame once more. he lingers on your right hand, still clutching your wine glass, eyes darkening at the bracelets that dangle from your wrist. interesting.

the rustling of his son before him startles him out of his daze, and he plows ten (incredibly thick) fingers through his hair before he lets out a weak chuckle, “hey buddy!” he ruffles his son’s hair and the boy wraps his arms around his dad’s torso. fuck.

“what were you up to, my man?” he asks, kneeling to get to his level.

“i accidentally bumped into this nice lady, so she helped me put my plane back together!” he exclaims, beaming with pride as he shows his father the finished product.

“wow! well that was really nice of her,” his eyes snap up to meet yours quickly before going back to his son, the brief contact shocks your heart all the same, “did you say thank you?”

“yes, dad!” he whines, sounding a bit annoyed that his dad still thinks he has to ask him that. his petulant tone pulls a chuckle from your throat, and it causes both boys to turn their identical chocolate eyes onto you.

“he did, he was incredibly polite,” you gush, “we had lots of fun, didn’t we?” he nods enthusiastically, and aaron chuckles. the adorable high pitched noise makes your heart to thump against your chest, and you take a gulp of wine.

aaron knew where jack was all night. he always does. he caught a glimpse of his little feet poking out from behind the tree, fussing about his new lego set. the shine of red silk glimmered in the tree lights next to him, and his heart dropped into his stomach.

he made quick work of excusing himself to the back patio under the guise of ‘getting some air’. from there, he had a clear view of the other side of the living room, where she and jack were planted, clicking various lego pieces into place.

he watched as jack’s eyes lit up, the way she made him laugh. it made his heart thump against his chest, the way she connected with jack like it was breathing. it disarms him, stealing the breath from his lungs. she’s good at that.

he watches now-jack already off somewhere with henry- the display of her neck as she takes a swig of wine. it’s the merlot he brought, he can tell from the deep red staining her glossy lips. his eyes study them, her plump, pink lips. he wonders what her lipgloss tastes like, his mouth watering from his urge to taste her sweetness, to steal the oaky tang of wine off the tip of her tongue. the corner of her mouth ticks up in a sly smirk, and his eyes snap up to meet hers, her devious gaze telling him he’s been caught.

“thank you, for uh-for taking care of jack for a bit,” he puts his hands in his pockets, his gaze falling to the floor as he speaks.

“oh! anytime,” she chirps, “he’s a really sweet kid, you must be really proud,” she’s playing him like a fiddle, he nearly melts into a puddle on the spot.

“yeah, yeah, i am,” he nods, finally making eye contact with a small smile. she returns it, the sly glint escaping her, now replaced by a soft, gentle smile and kind eyes.

“we had fun…it was better than being grilled by family about my return home,” she states, washing it down with another sip of wine.

he chuckles at that, “fair enough,” he mutters.

she smiles at that, “yeah, he just grilled me about how i don’t play legos anymore, much less interrogative.” this earns a heftier chuckle from aaron, and her eyes light up, his laughter spurring on her own.

“that sounds like jack,” he nods, a wide grin stretching his cheeks.

“he’s a great kid, really. he must get it from his dad,” her voice is saccharine as her hand briefly grazes his forearm. it’s like he’s been struck by lightning.

a light gasp escapes his chest at the brief contact, and his cheeks burn, “i-i don’t know about that,” his voice is raspy as he speaks, quickly clearing his throat afterwards.

her hand settles on his forearm, she begins to take a step closer and tell him something, but what he ends up hearing comes from behind him.

“sir!!!” penelope squeals, and they both freeze, eyes wide, “you’re wanted in the kitchen!! group photo!!”

his lashes kiss his cheeks as his head drops back slightly, a soft groan escaping his lips, “coming!” he calls over his shoulder. he nods at you curtly before turning towards penelope, contempt pooling like acid in his stomach.

“you can flirt later,” she jokes so only they can hear, winking at him before going off to pose everyone properly for the photo. he looks down and chuckles to himself as he falls in line.

as the party began to wind down, the easier it was for you to sneak off to your own space. most of the guests had left hours ago, but the bau members remained huddled around the kitchen table till the early hours of the morning. around midnight, you’re able to excuse yourself to your room. you wiggle out of your dress and relieve yourself of your shapewear, sighing as you pull on your buttery sleep set- light pink pants that flare at the bottom, with a matching short sleeve top that softly hugs your frame.

you pad over to your en-suite and scrub your makeup off, serums and lotions shining on your skin. you throw your hair up in a claw clip and slide on your glasses. just because you’re comfortable, though, does not mean you’re turned in for the night. you return back down the steps to grab some wine and dessert, seeing as there’s leftovers scattering every square inch of the kitchen.

the party moved itself outside, surrounded by the fire pit in the generous backyard. you smile to yourself as you see the group huddled around, and you itch to join them. you study the smile pinching your dad’s cheeks, and you long to be a part of something that makes him so happy. you’re not sure if you’d be wanted, though, so you resort to desserts and wine littering the kitchen island. you settle in with a riesling and a tray of cookies and brownies on either side of you, and turn on the expansive television in your father’s kitchen.

the low hum of parks and rec fills the kitchen as you pop the cork of the wine bottle, not bothering to pour a glass as your lips touch the spout. your eyes flit to the sliding glass door gliding open to reveal aaron. you pause, holding the bottle in front of you as you gulp down what’s in your mouth.

“hi,” you smile as he enters slowly, his own spreading his lips.

“hey, you tired?” he inquires, brow stern but eyes soft. he’s changed too, donning a dark pair of jeans and a white t shirt that hugs his bicep in a way that send an electric shock right to your brain.

“yeah, just came down for a midnight snack,” you smile, talking quietly even though you were the only two people in the house, “you should come join me,” you take a risk, patting the seat of the stool beside you.

“yeah, that sounds nice, it was getting loud out there,” he jokes, smiling softly as he fills his water bottle at the fridge.

he moves to sit next to you, ice rattling in his gray water bottle as his legs swing around the stool, nestling close to yours. he steals the wine bottle from your grasp, his brows shooting up into his forehead with a cheeky smirk. you shamelessly ogle the way his lips press against the glass bottle, the throb of his adam’s apple as he swallows. he takes a thumb to his lips after he’s taken a sip, wiping any excess from his mouth. you wish you could’ve kissed it off.

“that’s good,” he smiles, the gloss in his eyes telling you this is far from his first drink of the night. you’re sure your own eyes tell a similar story.

“i know,” you smile back, taking a sip of your own.

“you know…” he begins, fiddling with a brownie he picked off the plate, “when i first saw you tonight, i didn’t think you could get any prettier. i was wrong. you look incredible right now,” he smiles, his teeth sinking into the gooey brownie.

“aaron-” you chuckle, cheeks heating up, “thank you,” you mutter, looking down at your lap, “thank you. i thought the same thing when i saw you. that suit was ridiculous, but i think the t shirt made my brain short circuit,” the alcohol has loosened your lips significantly, you don’t care one bit how embarrassed you’ll be in the morning.

“oh really?” he laughs at that, the apples of his cheeks flushing red, “i like that you like my $5 t shirt from target better than my armani suit,” he muses, taking another big swig of the wine bottle.

“i like that you’re the kind of guy who has $5 t shirts from target and armani suits in his closet,” you smile, your body fully turned towards him. you rest your head on your hand, elbow planted firmly on the kitchen island, gazing at him with a fiery adoration.

“variety is the spice of life, as they say,” he takes another big bite of brownie, and you wipe a spare crumb from the corner of his mouth. you bring your crumb covered thumb to your mouth, your plush lips wrapping around the tip to take a taste for yourself. he pauses, eyes blown wide, then gulps his brownie down as he absorbs your action with his hungry, dark eyes.

“is that why you decided to become a profiler? for the variety?” you quiz him, biting into a piece of a chocolate chip cookie.

“something like that,” he mutters, a smirk spreading on his lips as he pops the last bite of brownie in his mouth, “little birdie told me you’re a writer,” he nudges your shoulder with his own, “trying to be like your dad?”

the question pokes at the vulnerability lacing your heart and you adjust in your seat, wiggling around your discomfort, “something like that…” you repeat his earlier sentiment, and he chuckles.

“well, if you’re anything like him then you’re probably amazing,” he smiles, taking the bottle from you once more.

“thank you, it’s…complicated. i fell in with the wrong people, and i figured it out the hard way,” you press your lips together, and you can tell he wants to ask more. you’re thankful he doesn’t, seeing as you’re not particularly very eager to delve into the reason you’re running back to your father’s house with a man you’re irrevocably attracted to.

“it happens to the best of us,” is all he says, but he hooks his ankle around the leg of your stool, connecting it with yours. your tense muscles loosen at the contact, and you and aaron both smile quietly down at your hands, comfortable existing in a soft silence together.

“this is one of my favorite shows,” aaron mutters, nodding towards the tv, where leslie knope is desperately scrambling to put together the harvest festival.

you turn to face him once more in shock, “really? i didn’t strike you as a sitcom guy!” you exclaim. he turns to face you now, his right knee slotting in between your legs, his left closing in on the other side of your thigh. his legs are huge, it’s like you’re surrounded by fucking tree trunks. it’s so intoxicating, the topic of your conversation completely slips your mind.

“i’ve been watching sitcoms before you even knew what they were,” he smirks, his voice low, gravelly, but silky smooth at the same time. a shudder unzips down your spine at the feeling of his breath hitting your cheek, “i love my west wing and my sopranos, too, don’t get me wrong,” he nudges your shoulder with his, and the proximity makes you dizzy, “but in my line of work, i mean, i need something to get my mind off of it at the end of the day. this one is like chicken soup for your soul.”

you smile at that sentiment, eyes shining with fondness for the man in front of you. butterflies swarm your stomach when the warmth of his large hands seep through your shirt, warming your stomach. he’s got a gentle grip on either side of you, his gigantic hands covering as much skin as possible. he engulfs you completely, your senses on aaron hotchner overdrive. his spicy oak cologne mixed with his woodsy aftershave nearly renders you dumb as you let your body fall into his, your forehead resting against his. he rubs his thumb into your skin and your eyes fall shut, a soft ‘oh!’ escaping your lips.

“that was really pretty, honey,” aaron murmurs, and you just ache.

your eyes open and you pull back to see him staring at you, low lidded and hungry. you’re going to kiss him. there’s no way around it. except the wretched sound of the glass door sliding open once more.

you and aaron jump apart like you’ve been burned, and you thank your lucky stars your father was not entering the threshold. derek and penelope stand there, s’mores ingredients in hand, shit eating grins on their faces.

“well, well, well, we were wondering where you’d run off to…” penelope trails off, “everyone’s about to come in, so we thought you might need a little warning,” penelope’s tone is incredulous as she raises her brows suggestively, and derek wolf whistles as he puts the marshmallows back in the cabinet.

“nothing- it was nothing!” aaron trips over his words as he scrambles for his things. your eyes go wide as you watch him move in a flurry throughout the kitchen, grabbing his clothes and his leftovers. before long, he’s slipped his shoes on and flies right out the door.

the silence in the wake of the door slamming is thick, loaded. you sit there in shock, unable to take your eyes off penelope. what the fuck just happened?

“what the fuck just happened?” penelope squeals, as if she read your mind.

“i don’t know!” you scream back, palms reaching up to slap your face.

“i know what happened!” derek exclaims, “the boss man’s caught some feelings and it scares the hell out of him!” he points out like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

dread pools in your stomach, and you plop your head in the crook of your elbow resting on the island. you’ve been home for less than a month and you’ve already managed to self destruct, “oh god,” you groan.

the rest of the group came inside shortly after, promptly gathering their things and giving lengthy goodbyes to everyone that was still there. you shook hands with many of them on the way out, mustering the biggest smiles you could manage under the circumstances.

once you close the door, you gather your tried and true water, motrin, and toast, and curl up on the couch. you turn the tv on there, attempting to stay up until some of the alcohol wears off. sleeping is useless for you when you’re this drunk. 

your head perks up from your cocoon of blankets and pillows when you hear the doorbell ring, followed by your father’s voice carrying down the steps, “i got it!”

he patters down the staircase and opens the door, and you just barely make out who it is, but you catch it all the same.

“hey, aaron!” your dad exclaims, and your eyes shoot wide open, “sorry i missed you when you left! everything alright?”

“yeah, yeah, jack missed me,” you could just barely hear him mutter from the porch, “but i believe he forgot his stuffed bear here, i’m sorry to be back so late. he couldn’t sleep.”

you see the bear, it lays by the tree, amongst a mess of wrapping paper. you leap off the couch and scoop it up, nervously pacing the living room.

“not at all,” your father’s voice carries from down the hall, “principessa, you can walk him out, right? i’m going to bed!” he calls down to you, and you muster out a weak, “yes!” in response.

aaron makes eye contact with you from the kitchen, and he slowly saunters into the living room. you stare at each other for a moment, and you forget you’re holding his son’s bear until his eyes drop down to it.

“oh!” you gasp, holding your hand out, “here! it was just under the tree-”

you’re cut off by his hands on your face, pulling your lips in to crash against his. the kiss steals the breath from your lungs, and you snake your arms around his waist, pulling him in closer and deepening the kiss. you pull back for small moments, before diving back in to place quick, sloppy kisses on his mouth. he chases after your lips like he’s starving for them, and it makes you feel 10 feet tall. he punctures your lips with his once more in a long, heated kiss. he cradles your jaw in his hands as he attacks your lips, licking into your mouth ever so slightly.

he pulls away from you with a gasp, and you feel the loss of his warmth like a gut punch, “thank you,” he mutters, breathless, but completely dead pan, before storming out of the home for the second time that evening, leaving you gasping for breath and flustered beyond belief. what. the fuck. just happened?

[euphoricfilter]

regret:

pairing: jungkook x gn! reader

genre: non-idol au || angst ||

summary: regret is the worst emotion

tags/ warnings: kinda just angst… the ending is ambiguous so you can try make it happy if you want

notes: a little ramble based on how i feel at the moment as a little treat before bed <3 i feel very rusty because i haven’t written in so long

☆ where you can find the rest of my stuff!!

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

the knowledge that the thing you want to say is going to hurt someone you care about is the worst feeling. a strange sinking in your chest, malleable guilt that chews away at your mind and your heart.

words tacky on your tongue as you rehearse them in your head over and over, a well practiced script. because ending something with someone you like a lot hurts. really, truly, hurts.

it hurts knowing you’ll hurt them and it hurts not knowing how your relationship will be after you utter the miserable set of words stuck in your mind.

jungkook was your first.

jungkook was your everything.

he was perfect, within whatever limitation human perfection has. he treated you like you were the best thing on the face of the earth. you were the light of his eyes, perfect in all your imperfect ways. a piece of you tucked away in his mind all hours of the day.

quick to message back when you text about your day. always on the other end of the phone. always there. the one person in the universe who loved you for who you were, the one person who loved to spend time with you all hours of the day. just the silent comfort of knowing you were there enough for him.

gentle as his fingers would run through your hair, legs tangled together and breathing soft as you linger between the waking world and gentle sleep.

his love for you was all consuming.

which is why you didn’t understand why it felt like your world was crumbling. a phantom hand wrapped around your delicate neck, constricting every breath you took.

a constant spiraling anxiety, tugging you further and further into this abyss of worry and self loathing.

the strange self loathing you have when you don’t know yourself anymore. unsure why. what reason there is to your existence. why people even liked you when it felt like you had nothing else to offer.

and at the time you thought you needed a break.

palms sweaty as you hold the phone to your ear, boyfriend understandably concerned by your recent lack of communication.

“hello..?” jungkook answers.

you swallow, “hi” it comes out quiet, throat already lodged, eyes glossy.

“what’s wrong, baby?” he hums, you hear him shuffle on the other end of the phone.

your lungs inflate as you take a deep breathe

“i..” you start, all that practice getting you nowhere as your mind stops, guilt clawing it’s way up your throat.

“baby?” he presses on, worry evident in his voice.

“i don’t know if i can do this anymore” the bitter words slip off your tongue, “you don’t deserve this”

and of course jungkook had been baffled. though maybe a small part of him knew that this was coming, how you’d slowly started to creep away from him. the unintentional distance scratching the surface of what was rattling around your mind.

“if this isn’t what you want… then that’s okay” he breathes, “i just want you to be happy”

you feel the tears trickle down the mounds of your cheeks, “no” you huff, “god, jungkook please don’t be nice right now”

“what do you want me to do?” he laughs, though you can feel the lack of humor, laugh dry as it’s pushed past his lips.

you wipe your wet cheeks, “call me a bitch or something”

“i’m not gonna call you a bitch” he sighs.

“but you don’t deserve this… i should have at least come in person or… i don’t know” you cry, “i feel like such a horrible person”

“you’re not a horrible person” he hums, “i don’t want you to feel bad”

“too late” you murmur, “i feel like shit… you’re just so nice and i really like you…. but i don’t think i can do this anymore”

the fact he has been so nice had made it harder. the sadness in his voice as he reassured you as you cried. the moment sinking in when you finally put your phone down. you’d shattered something so lovely. you’d ripped away the only person who made you feel seen.

and the week after was no different. he didn’t message you. so you never tried reaching out, how could you when you’d broken his heart.

it felt selfish missing him. wanting any sort of contact you could get.

and when he messaged about bringing some of your stuff over back to your place, that wasn’t enough. you knew that the small exchange wouldn’t be enough because you missed him, and asking for friendship after you ended the relationship chewed away at your mind.

sometimes missing someone is a strange feeling. knowing that the dynamic you once had is totally different, that it might never be the same as it was.

and sometimes missing someone hurts a little less than the guilt that eats away at you for what you have done. or missing someone can hide that slither of regret you have, wishing you knew you’d hate life without them as much as you did with them.

the world is lonely when you don’t feel seen.

dread wrapping around your mind. slowly sinking further and further into the darkness. nights spent thinking about the moments you’d shared together. that maybe you want what was once there.

you missed jungkook more than you’d like admit and it was eating away at your heart.

all it took was a week. a week of silence. a week of being alone and figuring out life by yourself.

you tip your head up, full moon shining down on the street as you stand outside jungkook’s apartment building, feet shuffling against the ground as you hold your phone to your chest. you’d written a message, rewritten the message, thought about what you’d say.

and that selfish part of you wants to send it. that selfish part of you wanting him to be there, for you to touch him, know that he’s really there and you can change what had happened.

[doukeshi-kun]

Dad Nikolai is definitely the type of dad to walk around shirtless all the time especially during the summer. Like he's the dad that while all the kids are outside playing, he's chilling, not a shirt in sight. Sun's out, tiddies out. Gimme his breasts pls 🙏

𝙙𝙖𝙙!𝙣𝙞𝙠𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙞 + 𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨

replies ✥ oh hell yea tiddies outttt

contents ✥ fluff, suggestive , oc kids (yuri, mari, karol), fem!reader

Nikolai treats you like a queen.

His words and manners are enough proof that he sees you as one. You could not remember how many times have you felt so down about your appearance, especially after three pregnancies. But Nikolai would always be there, hands slithering on your body, tracing your curves and folds and fleshes and bones, with his lips uttering how beautiful you are.

And he is such a great father as well. He makes sure your children all tell you how beautiful and pretty and cute you are. Yuri is a good boy—he always says nice things to you. Mari wants to be as pretty as you—she said. And Karol... Well, he often compares you with his favourite Hot Wheels cars, so you take it as a compliment.

It's summer. The sun is bright outside. It is a little windy, it is such a nice weather to chill. You are standing right outside your house, monitoring Yuri and Mari who are gardening. They seem to be focused on choosing between succulents. Yuri has taken a new interest these days and you are more than happy to support him—and Nikolai is always eager to play with Yuri, despite the boy's annoyance.

“Dad, dad! Bell man gonna come! Just waaatch!”

“I don't understand you, Karol...”

You hear your husband's voice and you turn to the side, seeing Nikolai's pinky getting pulled by Karol who is excited about some 'bell man'. Nikolai notices you and mouthes 'Help me' with a pleading pout.

However, your eyes are wandering away.

You know Nikolai likes to be shirtless—and this man is a nudist after 2AM—but there is just something else about his look right now.

Shirtless, black shorts, hair in a bun. His chest is toned, with lines of his muscles. His shoulders are just as broad as you remember.

You do not know if it is hormones or you are just attracted by how good of a father he is, but he definitely stirs something in you. You find yourself to be staring hard at his physique—has he exercised or something? Why do his arms look so strong and firm? Why does his waist look so huggable? Are his muscles already looked that toned and visible?

“Pervert alert.”

You swallow nervously when you realize that he is standing beside you. A timidity creeps up, and it feels like you two are young again. Nikolai grins, leaning closer to you. You feel your cheeks heat up and you lightly shove him by his chest, although it does nothing to nudge an inch of him.

“Aww, you shy now?” He teases again, holding your wrist and keeping your hand close to his body. Your fingers are brushing against his bare skin—he is slightly sweaty and he feels warm. Nikolai smirks, pressing your hand so you would palm his chest. “Come on, don't be shy. We've been together for years, my love.”

You pout, pinching his chest lightly. Instead of wincing, Nikolai only laughs, enjoying your reaction. “You’re so fun to tease. Always the same face. Never get tired of it, you know?” He says as he gives your ass a light smack, which you do not mind as much—he is always touchy. But his hand is lingering on your rear for a little too long.

He gives your ass a good squeeze, causing you to squirm and hitting his chest lightly. “D-Don't do that here... The kids—”

“Kids, go inside right now!” Suddenly Nikolai shouts at them and they immediately turn to both of you. You click your tongue in annoyance, attempting to pinch his stomach, but God—his body is firm.

“Don't listen to your dad. He's being stupid again.” You reply, assuring your kids that Nikolai is just joking. Both Mari and Karol are clearly confused but Yuri has the nastiest look on his face, which makes Nikolai cracks a wheeze of laughter.

“Isn't he always stupid though?” Yuri says. Karol gasps, looking at his big brother in disbelief.

“He is?!”

“He is.”

“I don't think daddy is stupid! I think he's just... mmm... selective smart!” Mari says and Nikolai cheers. He gets to his little princess and carries her up.

“Oh, my little flower! You really are your daddy's defender! Mwah!” He kisses her cheek, making Mari giggle. You smile to yourself but your smile falters into a shriek of embarrassment when Nikolai suddenly turns to you, saying, “It's okay, love. I'll carry you like this too.” He winks.

“Stop it,” You huff but your mind is already wandering elsewhere when you are starting to imagine how nice it feels when he wraps his strong arms around you. Your face heats up and you gaze away, trying not to look at your husband's flirtatious smile any longer.

“Bell man!” Karol suddenly shouts excitedly and both you and Nikolai turn to the gate, seeing Karol waddling to see an ice cream bike passing just in front of the house. The man on the bike is ringing a bell—a gesture to attract attention.

“Karol, don't go to the road!” Nikolai barks sternly as he puts down Mari. Yuri is already on his way to hold back his little brother who is excited for some ice cream when the ice cream man parks his bike right outside your yard. Mari looks at both you and Nikolai before grinning and following his brothers, seeming to want an ice cream too.

“Well, guess I have to buy ice cream for everyone,” Nikolai mumbles to himself. “Look after them for a while, sweetheart. I'm gonna get my wallet.”

“And... get your shirt,” You playfully smacks his chest, squeezing it. “Don't wanna have those aunties gawk their eyes on my husband now, do we?”

“Possessive, I like that,” Nikolai smirks as he slaps your butt lightly. “This is all yours, honey. No one has a chance, alright?” You giggle as you shove him back lightly, urging him to get inside and get dressed. Nikolai still has that perverted grin on his face as he walks into the house.

You turn to your kids, expecting a wholesome scenery of your kids choosing ice cream for each other, but all you see is Karol standing on the bike with the ice cream man—not even Yuri or Mari is stopping him.

©doukeshi-kun 2024 — do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, more @/cherikolya

if you like my works, consider buy me a ko-fi!

[appleblueberry-pie]

Can I ask Yandere Miguel with an S/o who isn’t interested in him at all, but who’s in love with his brother Gabriel?

Half-Way to True Love

You don't think this was supposed to be a friendly platonic lunch.

The more you ate the very expensive food at the expensive table with the expensive view, smelling his expensive cologne across the table, the slower you chewed in nervousness and realization. Has he been trying to impress you the whole time?

You finished your mouthful of nicely flavored and smooth mashed potatoes and looked up at Miguel. He was already staring down at you with that look in his eyes. Love. Something you didn't feel for him but you know he felt for you. You tried to ignore your mind and attempted to convince yourself it couldn't be what you thought it was.

"How's the food?"

You nod silently and put down your fork to pick up your glass of champagne. "It's pretty good. I like it a lot." His shoulders relax and he finally cuts his first piece of steak. "That's good. The first time I came here, I knew it would be a great place for a date."

Date echoed through your head. Your face immediately dropped into one of disappointment. Miguel has honestly been pushing you to the edge for longer than a month. Constant pleas and begs to be with you in ways you didn't enjoy and even though this was one of his most tamest attempt, this was enough to get you to snap. "Miguel." He looked up at you and saw your face, his own dropping at your reaction.

"Why did you bring me here?" His face also set into one of stone as he put down his fork and knife. "Well, I wanted to do something nice for the both of us. I know both of us are equally tired from the constant piles of work we have to finish at Alchemax, I know you juggle a lot of tasks after work and you could definitely use a break like me. So, I took it upon myself to bring you here as a way-"

You look both ways around the restaurant to make sure no one was watching before leaning over to hiss at him quietly, yet the most angry you've been this entire week. "I told you a million fucking time's I'm not into you, Miguel!! I keep telling you constantly, I. don't. want. you. I don't want to date you, I don't want your money, I don't want your time, I don't want any fucking thing from you." You pick up your purse and furiously dig around for your wallet so you can hopefully just pay and leave. "You're so fucking lucky I don't toss my plate in your fucking face, Jesus."

As surprised he was of your outburst, he knew every reason and then some for why you don't want to be with him. "Why do you want Gabriel?" You look up at him in confusion and frustration. "I'm not doing this with you right now." Where the hell is your wallet??? "Why do you want my brother? What does he have that I don't? I have everything he doesn't, but you continue running to him like he's the best thing you could ever ask for."

"He's the 'best thing I could ever ask for' because he doesn't try to trick me into dating him, doesn't follow me when I leave work, doesn't stalk me, doesn't interrogate me on every single action I make and doesn't annoy the shit out of me."

You give up once you realize Miguel might have stolen it again. He does this every time he takes you to lunch so you don't find a way to leave. Not without talking to him first. "Give me my wallet." He purses his lips. "No." "This is why."

"Please, just let me-" "You've done enough. Just please give me my wallet before I scream."

He shakes his head. "You wouldn't." You raise your eyebrows.

A silents is born. Just the sound of soft clattering from forks meeting plates fills the air. The soft music does nothing to calm you.

Finally, Miguel sighs and takes it out of his pocket and sets it on the table. As soon as you grab it, he sets his hand over yours.

You look up at him and he gives you a desperate look.

".......have a good night."

The cycle is bound to repeat tomorrow.

[almightygremlinblob]

A Honey Trap For The Butterfly

Nanami Kento was everything you needed in a therapist, only as long as you ignored the sinking feeling in your gut.

Even tho there's nothing describing the act of s*x here, it's still a yandere fic - so minors and those not comfy with yandere stuff DNI and have a nice day! 🫶🏽

Word Count: (will update when life stops life-ing lmao)

⚠️Content Warnings⚠️: UNBETA'D, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Yandere!Therapist Nanami Kento, Gender!Neutral Reader (and no bits mentioned), Modern!AU, Hurt/Comfort, Soft Yandere, behaviour that SHOULD NOT be tolerated irl, Nanami says some very comforting shit to manipulate you, no curses.

⚠️Further Content Warnings⚠️️: Unhealthy power dynamics, HEAVY and subtle emotional manipulation, implied stalking, mention of sexual activities, professional boundaries are OUT the window.

When your gut tells you something is wrong, one tends not to believe it at first, and this causes you to dismiss any further warnings.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Sorry, I-I'm just..."

"There's no need to push. Only if you're ready."

"No, I-I'd like to."

Therapy was a tricky thing. There was the problem of getting the right medication for you. There was also the problem of finding the right therapist for you. Which is why some people - like you - search for a very a long time until you finally found one that clicked. Nanami Kento, who was practically everything you needed in a therapist.

"The nightmares are about your family, yes? They say nightmares are ways for the mind to release overwhelming emotions. Can you tell me more about them?"

"Y-yes, I...these nightmares are always the same. My family talking about me behind my back, it's...I feel alienated."

"Hm...it's no wonder these nightmares always coincide with upcoming family gatherings." He scribbles something down, and turns his full attention towards you. "If you're okay with sharing, what makes you think they're alienating you?"

"I...now that you mention it Doctor, it does seem to coincide, but...I-I don't believe I've mentioned...how did you-"

"Ah, it's just an observation." He waves his hand dismissively. "And I told you, you can call me Kento."

-------

"I-I'm so sorry!" You apologize profusely, embarrassed and just a little defeated when you turn up short at the cashier of your favorite coffee shop. There's a brisk walk, and someone familiar drops some change at the cashier for you. Though being payed for was a surprise, the person paying was not. It was Nanami, who you seemed to run into a lot. So much, that bumping into your therapist outside of your sessions was almost the norm. Something about living nearby.

"Oh, Doctor, I-I'm really sorry about this!"

"Oh don't fret, it was only a few bucks." He offers his hand. "Come, sit with me."

You're taken aback. It's not like you didn't WANT to. Nanami was a very attractive man; well built, broad shoulders, and such a handsome face. But, still, he was your therapist. There is a very faint alarm, all the way at the back of your mind, that makes you feel just a little bit uneasy at the proposal.

"A-are you sure this...I mean, i-is this okay?"

"Of course." When he intertwines his fingers with yours, his face and eyes and words are completely welcoming. Laced with nothing but care in order to hide the ugly side just waiting to devour you.

"It's just coffee."

-------

"I think last session was a very eventful one. You did a lot well this week. I'm quite proud of you." He says and hands you the paper for your medications. His warm and strong hands linger on top of yours. "See you for lunch after?"

-------

"I just can't believe they'd do that to me..." You try and keep yourself from crying any more. "They're my family. I shouldn't have to cut them off like this!"

"Hey, hey...I know it doesn't seem like it, but you made the right choice." Nanami gently cups your face with his hand. "I'm proud of you."

"It's okay. You'll be okay." His eyes go over to your lips, as he tilts your head to better align with his. The room suddenly feels awfully quiet, too constricting, when his lips meet yours.

-------

"I think I've come a long way." You sigh and laugh softly. "I'd like to celebrate but...I-I'm not sure how. I'd like to minimize my spending..."

"Well, I'd have to agree, you ARE making fantastic progress." He takes your hand in his. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to celebrate it with you. I have a few ideas we could try."

"Oh, of course!"

"Date night." He brings your knuckles to his lips. "Your apartment."

Nanami stayed over that night. Worshipped your body as if he was made for it. He was a wonderful lover but, the entire experience left you feeling wrong, somehow.

-------

"I don't know what to feel...I just...they're all dead. My family, they're all..." It was all too much, and Nanami wraps his arms around you. "I know what they did but, still, I..."

"Oh, love...it's okay. Let me handle everything; planning, funeral expenses. Everything."

"Kento, that...that's too much-"

"Nothing in the world is too much for you, my dear." He holds your face when you start to cry again. "I would do anything for you."

When he looks at you, his eyes show a devotion and adoration so strong it borders insanity. You'd never expect this 'gentle giant' to be the one that caused your family's deaths. It was nothing you've ever seen from him, and it unsettles you.

"Anything. You know that, right?" He seals it with kiss on the lips, just a bit too harsh, just a bit too possessive. "Stay here, with me - where you belong. Don't worry anymore."

"You're home now."

When your gut tells you something is wrong, one tends not to believe it at first, and this causes you to dismiss any further warnings. It is just one of the many ways that humans self-sabotage. Though, for many manipulators, the intention is to make their victim do so by putting up a welcoming and disarming front - a perfect honey trap.

.

.

Writing this was a TRIP man, ughk. It's so tame and light as a yandere fic but something about writing subtle manipulation just makes my skin crawl the most. 😭 Anyways, hope you enjoy! ✨🫰🏽

[fern-funtime]

| Corvette Corvette <3 |

wc: 1,182

paring: gojo x fem! reader

warnings: 18+, gojo is cringy ngl, tw! rich people

an: if i don't get embarrassed and delete this i'll make a pt 2. maybe, if i get asked nicely -Fern xo ♡

A one night stand was never your kind of thing, yet you find yourself walking to a small rundown bar. It wasn’t exactly trashy but definitely not ideal but hey alcohol is alcohol, and sex is sex. Walking into the bar you immediately catch a whiff of cigarettes and cheap cologne. It was surprisingly busy, the booths were filled, a group of men around your age were playing pool, and there were only a few seats at the bar that were open.

You nervously walked up to the bar and asked the bartender for a drink, “Cape cod please.” He went to make your drink and all of your confidence started to dissipate.

The reason why you were alone was because all your friends were out with their boyfriends. You couldn’t come to terms with the fact that you were alone so you decided to pick someone up from the bar. Which sounded great in hindsight but actually being here…you’re thinking about your life choices. The bartender hands you your cocktail, and you gladly take is and chug half of it.

“Can I get a-“ your thoughts are interrupted by a man coming up behind you to order a drink, he looks at you for a second and seemingly losing his thought. Another brief moment passed before he looked back to the bartender “Uh- sorry can I get a coke?” The bartender nods and goes to grab his drink. You glance back at the man and he’s already looking at you. You can’t help but feel nervous, he is very attractive. Nice suit, messy white hair but it fits him, and he smells really nice. Definitely an expensive cologne. But the thing that really caught your attention were his eyes. Sadly covered by sunglasses, but you could still see their bright color.

“Hey pretty lady~” he smirks and you cringe. “Pretty lady?” you laugh “That was bad.”

He jokingly pouts “Bad?” he sighs and puts his hand over his chest “You wound me.” you roll your eyes but the smile stays, you can’t believe this is working.

“So what can I call you pretty lady?” “Well definitely not that, call me y/n” his smile widens and he leans against the bar “So, what are you doing here Y/n.”

"I just wanted to...relax I guess.” you take another sip of your drink and he raises a brow “Are you alone? A pretty thing like you should be with her friends…” he trails off a bit “Or with her boyfriend..” he raises an eyebrow.

“My friends are busy, and I don’t have a boyfriend.” you look away for a moment and see him in the corner of your eye grin ear to ear.

“Oh really now, are you looking for one?” You admired his boldness but you couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re very forward, I dont even know your name.” he rubbed his neck “That’s rude of me, my name is Satoru Gojo.” Satoru Gojo. “Well Gojo, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued.”

He smirked and leaned in a bit “Wanna get out of here, y/n?” you think for a moment, you were going to say no but the way he said your name, literally made you weak, and you wanted to hear him say it more. “I’d love to.” you smile at him before getting up from your seat. He leaves the bartender a $20 and walks besides you. He opens the door for you and you both eagerly leave the bar.

You both walk to the parking lot and he takes you to his car. Which you could not tell he was rich by looking at him but his car. “A corvette?” you give him a curious look. He laughs “My corvette.”

He opens the passenger door for you before walking to the drivers side and getting in. Once you get in he turns to you and he looks a little nervous, you look back at him and the world seemingly stops, he’s much more prettier in this lighting. You started to get nervous, the very little alcohol you drank did not help. He brings his hand to your cheek and moves a hair behind your ear.

“Can..I kiss you?” he whispered. He leans in closer and you do the same, his eyes glance at your lips before going back to your eyes and he stops moving, your lips slightly brush against eachothers and you softly say “please.” with your permission he quickly, but softly kisses you.

You both sigh into the kiss feeling content, he’s warm. Pulling away he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and he smiles. Your body felt a little to warm and your cheeks were practically burning. “Are we going to your place or m-“ before he can finish his sentence you take his glasses off and bring him into another kiss.

He moves his hand along your cheek all the way to your waist and the other hand rests on your neck. You pull away and he’s looking back to you with half lidded eyes, he wants this just as bad as you do. “We can- um” he stammers a little bit and you notice how pink his cheeks were “We can go in the back or you can..” he pauses and realizes how awkward this is.

“I can what?” you know what he was trying to say, but he looked really cute like this. “Y’know..” he starts but before he says anything else you move over the center console and straddle his waist.

Once you’re on top of him he looks up to you with puppy eyes. “You look good like this.” he moves his hand up your stomach to your chest. You take his hand and move it down to your thigh, and you guide it under your dress. “Maybe…i’d look better without this on.”

His smile gets wider and he starts to pull your dress up revealing the lingerie you had on. “Wow, you came prepared.” you get embarrassed and pout “Stop you’re making me sound like a who- oh.” you’re cut off by the feeling of his fingers teasing you.

“What you were saying gorgeous?” he smirked and pulled your panties to the side, allowing his fingers full access to your pussy. You let out a quiet moan and you wrap your arms around his neck. You kiss him to hide your noises, honestly it was embarrassing at how much you were getting off just by his hands alone. Pretty soon you felt a knot bundled up and you couldn’t hide your noises, you started slowly grinding yourself against his hand.

“Aw, is the pretty girl close?” he moves his mouth to your neck and leaves soft bites along it. You let out a pathetic ‘mhm’ and before you reach your peak he stops and pulls his hand away. You furrow your brows and you go to say something but before you can even open your mouth he’s already licking his fingers and unzipping his pants with his other hand.

[thefactsofthematter]

hello newsies tumblr! i’m back to post a scene i found in a random wip folder, from a fic that will probably never exist in full lol

please enjoy some sad canon era javid <3

-

"...and I know we don't pray the same way, you and I, but your folks said you might not mind it if I sat with you and did this. Only one God, ain't there, so I figures we can ask Him for all the help we can get, every which way. Ain’t no harm in extra prayers."

That's Jack's voice.

David is awake, sort of, but too tired to open his eyes. His body is itchy, but he's too tired to scratch himself. His throat burns, so he doesn't dare try and speak.

He just lays there.

"This was my Ma's." He's placing something in David's hand. A string of beads, it feels like. "I should take the time to sit and pray it more often. She carried it everywhere. Only thing I've got left of her, really."

He wraps the beads around David's palm.

"You start at the bottom, see," Jack continues, as if he knows David's listening, "and you say a prayer for every bead. And you gotta have an intention, right— mine for today is that I'm asking God to get you better, 'cause you're starting to scare everyone, Dave, what with how you just keep getting sicker and the fever won't break. We can't go losing you anytime soon, so you've gotta get yourself better as soon as you can."

He's very sick, David realizes. That's why he can't move.

He's a bit scared.

But it's hard to stay scared for long with Jack Kelly holding your hand, so he starts to feel calm again.

"In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti," Jack murmurs.

David hadn’t realized Jack knew Latin. Wonders where he learned it, since he would've left school before the grades they started teaching it. He only went to school until he was eight— he told David that.

"Credo in Deum, Patrem omnipotentem, Creatorem caeli et terrae..."

Jack continues on in words that David's tired brain can't make sense of, but it's rhythmic and soothing. There's a cadence to it like Jack doesn't actually know what he's saying, has just memorized the sounds, probably at church— it's like how David felt about some Hebrew prayers when he was little, just echoing back what he heard others speak.

From bead to bead, Jack mumbles quiet prayers, and David finds himself, somewhere in his fever-addled brain, feeling quite charmed and grateful that Jack would show him this private, vulnerable side of himself. His faith is deeply personal to him, David knows— it's there in the way he never puts on his arrogant show towards the nuns, the way he's quick to take his cap off even on the steps of the church, the way he scrubs the littlest newsies into their very best shape on Saturday nights and drags them to mass on Sunday mornings. David loves to watch him in those short moments before he eats his dinner each day, lips moving silently as he gives thanks.

It's a softer side of Jack Kelly that often stays well-hidden, but makes itself very endearing when it peeks through.

"I think I might be praying for a miracle," Jack sighs, after a long time of quiet whispering, counting along the beads. His voice is a bit shaky now. "But they happens, you know. They said so in the good book. I know it's the very same God lookin' after you and I, and I know He loves you and won't take you away from us here on Earth, not just yet. Ain't your time."

And he takes the beads from David's palm, replacing them with his own hand. He intertwines their fingers and squeezes.

David tries to squeeze back. It's weak, pitiful, but enough for Jack to gasp.

"I knew it," he whispers. "Oh, I knew it, I knew it, Dave. You're there, ain't you? You're listening."

And David wishes he could give him anything more, but he can feel sleep creeping up on him again, so he lets it come. Not much else he can do, but it's nice to hear some hope in Jack's voice.

[alchemistc]

tastes like (he) might be the one

an: So this post made me feel some things and the drabble I started out underneath got wordy enough that I decided not to fully hijack the post.

Tommy is just now realizing has no idea how to prepare a meal.

Evan had told him where the spare key was and Tommy had wanted to do something nice for him but he is a forty year old man with NO concept of how to make a meal.

What do you put in a salad? Kale goes into the bowl and he finds Evan's cheese grater and a Romano wedge, but there's no bread around and Tommy eyes the bag of premade croutons in his pantry with unease before he calls it good.

The caprese is easy, he's made it a million times, a quick snack that reminds him of afternoons on his grandmother's back porch, drinking the thimble of espresso she'd allowed him while she spoke in her heavily accented voice.

He doesn't actually know how to tell Evan he's avoiding gluten without disappointing him, yet, (God he's down bad, the thought of Evan's bright smile faltering a bit like he's disappointed he hadn't thought to ask makes Tommy want to launch himself into the stratosphere) so he throws the pan of lasagne back in the oven on low and just... takes a deep breath.

Evan won't be back for at least another hour, though, and Tommy is fighting the itch to snoop, so he takes a quick glance at the supplies on hand and ends up whipping up the stracciatella recipe his mom had used to make him when he was sick. He's halfway through prepping it when he realizes he's fucking insane, but it's too late now.

The text hits his screen before he can contemplate hiding the evidence of the soup.

Be there in twenty.

So Tommy stirs, and rubs his suddenly sweaty hands on his thighs, and then he stares at the disaster he's made of the kitchen and starts sweeping things into the sink.

Evan, Eddie, everyone always thinks he's so cool, but the reality is that behind closed doors he's a fucking disaster and his head is a jumble of nerves. This is too much. Cohesively, it might make some semblance of sense in the range of 'this is all vaguely italian' but a minestrone would have been better, he just hadn't had the time. This is too much -- too much food, too much effort, too much like ripping open his chest and guiding Evan's hand to wrap around his pumping heart and squeeze.

The locks on the doors tumble open just as Tommy is drying the cutting board, and Evan presses in with a tired smile.

The smile goes wider at the sight of his table, laid out in some semblance of order Tommy doesn't remember, but it had made sense at the time.

Be cool, Kinard, Tommy thinks to himself, but he can't help but melt a little when Evan tosses his keys carelessly to the side board and then slides across the room, no unease in his face as he sidles up, hands curling around Tommy's hips, head tilted in the way Tommy absolutely knows is a flirt, now.

"Hey."

Tommy blinks. He's disarming, unreal, Tommy has known him for barely any time at all but he'd bend over backwards to make that smile stay on Evan's face forever.

"Hi."

Evan's thumbs are playing with his belt loops, and his grin dimples his cheeks, and suddenly he's slightly less alarmed that he'd cobbled together a disaster of a three (four?) course meal like a crazy person.

Tommy wants to hand him his spare key back. He also wants to grab his key ring and add the spare to it, full eye contact going while he tucks it in between the truck key and his own house key. He wants to bite Evan's neck, and tug him into his chest and never let go, he wants -

"Smells good in here. Did you make something? You didn't have to make anything, I would have -."

"I wanted to," he manages, around the blinding flare of Evan's smile.

Tommy is cool as a fucking cucumber. Evan presses his lips to the junction of Tommy's jaw, darts around him before Tommy can reciprocate. Grabs two wine glasses from a cabinet and when Tommy turns to look at the broad expanse of his back, Evan has his head ducked bashfully, and Tommy can see the edges of his grin, the swell of his cheek in profile.

At least he's not alone in this, Jesus.

Evan pours them wine, fingers curling around Tommy's. He stares at the meager offerings on display, and Tommy can see him ticking off serving utensils in his mind. He doesn't say a word about the monstrosity that is a kale and Romano salad (???), just dances around Tommy again, wine glass balanced in his hand, to grab some dressing from the fridge.

"Hey, there are oven mitts in that top drawer, there, can you grab the lasagne? It's gluten free, Chin mentioned something about you avoiding it?"

Tommy contemplates sinking to his knees right there in front of his sad sack salad. Why hadn't he looked for ingredients for the caprese first?

Instead he pulls the lasagne out, lays it out across the wicker hot pads he'd set out earlier. The moment it's securely on the table, Evan presses fully against his back, and Tommy wonders if he should have stopped to get flowers. Or condoms.

Both, probably.

"Did you make me soup?" he asks, lips pressed to the knob of Tommy's spine.

"From what I hear you've had a rough day. Soup always makes a rough day better." He wishes his wine glass was still in his hand, and not next to the oven where he'd left it. He twists to face Evan and Evan gives up zero ground, toe to toe and a delighted little gleam in his eye Tommy knows is going to get him in trouble one day.

"Hi," Evan says, again, and Tommy curls a hand around his hip and drags him half an inch closer.

[poetryvampire]

The thing about Zevlor is once he gets comfortable in his relationship he's the most affectionate man tiefling alive. And the absolute king of soft/pleasure doms.

Nothing gets me foaming at the mouth feral like super secure confident Zevlor holy hell

Have some thoughts. Nsft at the end

Let's goooo🔥

●It's definitely gonna take awhile for him to get settled into being with someone and let himself loosen up. He's been alone for so long and is so filled with doubts. At the beginning he doesn't believe you're serious about wanting to be with him. He's sure you'll leave before too long. But when you don't and stay by his side and your bond deepens to love Oh Boy does it flip a switch in him.

●That shy, timid man that could barely bring himself to touch you for fear of rejection? Long gone. Replaced with an adoring passionate lover ever ready to shower you with affection. Before you were always the one to have to initiate any intimacy. Zevlor was once far too restrained to act on his desires but now he can hardly keep his hands off you.

●Once he was certain of your feelings he made sure you could never doubt his love for you. He's a true romantic at heart so be ready for never ending compliments, pet names and soft touches throughout the day. Zevlor can't pass by you without planting a chaste kiss to your hand or cheek, can't part from you without a firm kiss on the lips and a whispered 'I love you', can't walk beside you without slipping his hand around your waist or caressing the small of your back.

● Lord don't even get me started on PDA. Now Zevlor doesn't really seek out PDA but being in public isn't going to stop him from expressing himself. Hells, he'd sing his love for you from roof tops if you wanted, he does not care what people think. So he's unafraid to sink into a heated kiss or get a little handsy if the moment takes him. Especially if you tease him. Want to coo some sweet longings into his ear? Get ready to be pinched and pawed at all evening. Though he will keep it within reason usually.

●On that note, Zevlor adores taking you out on the town. Whether it's going to a play, a festival or even a nice walk around the community gardens he loves to see you all dressed up. And what he loves almost as much is seeing you turn heads. To him you're the most beautiful thing in the world and you deserved to be shown off a bit. It's always amusing to see someone's (that's eyeing you up) face fall when the paladin snakes an arm around you. He's not going to admit it easily but having you on his arm is a huge confidence boost.

● You think his passion for you out in the world is insatiable just wait until you get in the bedroom. This man reveres you utterly and is going to make sure you feel it with the kind of body worship you've only dreamed of. Zelvor can never fully find the words to express just how thankful he is for the time you took with him at the start of your romance. He's going to go out of his way to return the favor and make you feel just as loved and cherished as you made him feel.

●*crosses self* Get ready to get overstimulated within an inch of your life. This man is going to wreck you. Once he feels ready to take on a more dominate role it's pleasure doming all the way. Nothing gets him off like seeing you lose yourself, he wants you completely fucked out of your mind. Zevlor has legendary patience and stamina and will go all night if you let him. He'll lay you back and rub every inch of you down with those big rough hands. He has you cumming with his mouth, fingers and tail before he's even got his pants off.

● You'll be a sobbing, babbling mess by the time he's actually inside you and even then prepare for a long (hell)ride. When he's worked up enough he doesn't even need to pull out between rounds. Instead he'll hold you tight and have you cockwarm him until he's fully hard again and fucking back into you with a renewed intensity.

● One of Zelvor's favourite things is to watch you on top of him, especially as a finale. He loves seeing you try to ride him with your shaking thighs and flushed cheeks. He'll make you go until you can't anymore and then generously help you along by digging his fingers into your hips and bouncing you up and down his cock. You feel weightless and intoxicated by his ability to take you like this. He has you screaming and cumming around him again in no time.

● Honestly Zevlor loves cuddling and aftercare just as much as making love to you. You're going to be taken care of just as thoroughly. He'll hold you close whispering his devotion to you, read you your fav book or poems, draw a bath for you. He a big fan of bathing together. The intimacy of washing your hair make him feel so close to you. Zevlor's even more than happy to braid flowers into your hair afterward. You're his everything and he's going to make you feel as such.

💖

Anyway, rn my heart has an insatiable need to write Zevlor angst but i couldn't stop thinking about this today and needed to get it out of my brain. Someday the old man's gonna get so many happy fics omg.

[mavrintarou]

[11:21 AM] Sakus Kiyoomi

Went on a writer's block and vacation, trying to get back into the game again. Had to distract myself with some Kiyoomi, here's sweet Omi.

Warning: Smut, pregnancy talk, daddy Omi in progress

.

Strong and long arms tighten around your waist, a face buried against your shoulder blades as you can feel warm breath fanning through the material of your shirt. Looking over your shoulder, you can see the dark mop of curly locks that are messy from not being properly dry the night before.

Normally, you would have offered to blow-dry his hair but yesterday, Kiyoomi returned home from training in a foul mood. After two years of dating and two years of marriage, you knew it was best to just let him cool off on his own.

You only smile and silently let him know he knows where to find you when he feels better.

You would do your best to make the rest of his night better by heating dinner and pouring him a glass of his favorite wine. Though he wouldn’t be in the mood to talk, you sat across from him and watched him eat.

“Thank you for dinner,” he murmured, his mood a little cooler than a few minutes ago.

“You’re welcome,” you smile, “would you like me to get a bath going for you?”

“Please,” he whispered with a small smile, one you knew that he appreciated your small gestures.

You waited for him in bed but at some point, you must have fallen asleep.

“Thank you.”

Your eyes shot open and you looked over your shoulder, “Omi?”

He hummed, tightening his embrace and holding you close. “Thank you… for everything.”

You blinked, then rested your head back on the pillow, taking a moment for his words to register. It wasn’t unusual for him to express his gratitude, but you found yourself uncertain about what exactly he was thank you for.

“Thank you for always taking care of me, and understanding me.”

You maneuvered around in his arms and faced him. “Of course, but you don’t need to thank me.”

Kiyoomi pressed his lips to your forehead. “Of course I do, I don’t say it enough but I am grateful for you and the things you do for me.  You understand me like no one else. Like heating food for me, getting a bath going for me… even using your ridiculous towel warmer and warming up my towel for me, setting out my clothes for me… you blow-dry my hair for me…”

You reached to touch a spiral strand, “except yesterday…”

He chuckles, “except yesterday, but I forgive you.”

“Thank you,” you say pressing a kiss to his lips. “What happened? Who made your day so bad? Tell me, I’ll fight them.”

His lips curve into a smirk, “it was mom.” He pulls you into the crook of his embrace. “My mom called and gave me the talk, that’s all…”

Your fighting words a moment ago humbled you, you certainly weren’t going to fight your mother-in-law.

You pull back and stare at him, “the talk? About what? You’re twenty-seven years old, what talk is your mom having with you?”

“Grandkids.”

Your mouth is shaped into a big O.

“She wants grandkids…”

You nod your head and then frown, “and that made you upset?”

“Well, yeah,” he responded, his tone carrying an evident clarity. He gently moved your hair aside with his fingers. “You’re my wife, and it’s your body. With today’s technology, childbirth is dangerous and hard on a woman’s body and health. Whether we have kids or not isn’t solely my decision.”

You nuzzle his palm, “well, you play a crucial role though.”

“Well, yeah but…” he paused and narrowed his eyes, “you’re the one carrying the baby for nine whole months.”

“I don’t see the problem here, Kiyoomi.”

“Omi,” he corrected. He let out a sigh, “it’s not a problem, my whole point that I tried to get my mom to understand is that it’s a choice of ours to have children and she shouldn’t be pressuring us.”

“Do you feel pressured?”

He rolled his eyes, “no, I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

You loved this man so much.

“I don’t feel pressured,” you assured, resting a palm over his chest. “Babies kind of sounds nice, don’t you think?”

“Kind of?” he mimicked with a chuckle, he pulled you on top, so you’re straddling him. “A baby sounds nice, let’s start with one first.”

“Like right now?”

You can see him hesitating. “I provide what I can, but you will be the one bearing most of the weight. Is it something you want, Y/n?”

“For a long time now,” you answered instantly.

You’ve longed to start a family for quite a while now. You simply hesitated to broach the subject because it hadn’t been raised by either of you yet. Amongst all your married friends, the two of you were the only ones who hadn’t started a family yet.

“You didn’t say anything!” Kiyoomi exclaimed before bursting out laughing. “I’ve been having baby fever for half a year now since Shoyo had his second boy.”

You frowned at him, “why didn’t you say anything?”

Kiyoomi leaned up and pressed a kiss to your forehead, nose, and lips. “It doesn’t matter what I want, you are the most important person to me and it’s your body. If you didn’t want a baby, I would have been okay with being an uncle.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. “You’re so thoughtful, Omi.”

“It’s all thanks to Atsumu, he gave me an earful of being conscience of a woman’s body and their choices.”

You pull back and look at him in the eyes, “you didn’t answer me, so is right now too soon to start?”

Kiyoomi pressed his lips to your neck, his teeth nipping your skin. “No, we’re quite behind actually so we should hurry and… practice… cause practice makes perfect…”

His bulge is more prominent now and you grind your hips against it causing him to groan deeply and sexily. The only thing preventing him from thrusting inside you was the flimsy materials of both your undergarments.

You push him flat down on the bed and move to grab the waistband of his boxer briefs and freeing his cock only. Tugging your panties aside you aligned him at your pussy and sank on him feeling him fill you.

Kiyoomi’s large hands grip your thighs tightly before sliding up to grasp your waist. He pushed himself into the seating position, adjusting you on his lap, making you feel him deeper within you. You gasp, nails digging into his shoulders.

His palms fondle your tits, massaging them before pinching your hardened nipples. “I love your tits, they fill my palm already but I can only imagine how much bigger they would be when they’re full of milk.”

Your hips rocked against his, making you both moan and groan together. His grip slips down to your waist, his nails digging into your skin.

You knew your husband well enough that he was desperate.

So, you waited for him to voice himself.

“Please,” he whispered almost in pain, against your collarbone, “move… move baby…”

Leveraging against his strong wide shoulders, you rocked your hips, teasing him momentarily before leaning forward to kiss him while bouncing on his cock. Your bedroom instantly echoed with lewd smacking clamor.

“Ah!” you moaned when Kiyoomi leaned onto his back and began to thrust up into you, impatient about your pace. Your back arched, pussy clenching around his cock that was hitting deeper. You can feel every contour and grove of his cock.

Kiyoomi growled your name repeatedly with each thrust almost as if he was engraving himself deep within you.

Very few times has he come inside you, and all those times were accidents because there was no condom and he could not pull-out in time.

You squealed as you’re flipped onto your back with your husband towering over you with dark hungry eyes. His messy curly hair made him extra sexier than usual.

Your eyes watch his long fingers trail up your arm until they find your fingers, interlacing them. He pins your hands beside your head, “look at me, Y/n.”  You do as he commanded. “I want your eyes on me as we cum together.”

You nod, unable to find your voice.

He kneels in between your legs, pushing your legs wider to accommodate him. With no warning, he pounded into your pussy with an extreme speed. His grip against your hand tightened as you tried to free your hands to touch him.

“Cum, baby – cum for me…” Kiyoomi whispered in a low hush tone. “Because I want to cum for you, I want to cum deeply inside you. I  want – no – need to cum inside you… put a baby inside you…” his breath haggard with his powerful and deep thrusts that he punctuated each time he said the word cum. “Now I can cum inside you all I want… must… fill… you… with… my… cum.” His teeth nip your collarbone, “must impregnate you now.”

You cried out, legs tightening around his hips. Your pussy tightening and trembling around his cock as it continues to pound and rub against your sensitive walls. “Omi!”

His hands rips away from yours and he shifts himself onto his knees, lifting your hips along, making you arch your back. “You like that? Me wanting to impregnate you? Me breeding you?”

Where is your Omi? Who is this Omi that’s speaking such lewd words to you?

“Omi – wait –…” your words cut off as he thrusts hard and deep, faster than before.

“Ah!” Kiyoomi groaned.

Your eyes widen and you gasp. The sensation of feeling Kiyoomi ejaculate inside felt different than the other times. It may have been the overstimulating thrill but you felt each spurt of cum.   

He lowered your hips without withdrawing his cock just yet. A palm presses against the triangle of your womanhood and you gasp your husband’s name.

“I feel myself…” he murmurs, applying pressure, which makes you cringe – not from pain, but from a peculiar sensation. “I… I don’t want to pull out.”

“Hmm?” you hummed, half understanding him.

“My cum will flow out and… it will be wasted,” his voice laced with concern.

You giggled and reached for him to pull you up. He tugs you until you both are in an intimate lotus position. You looked down where you both are bonded as one. Kiyoomi has never stayed inside you longer than needed to, so to have him ‘plugging’ you this way felt erotic.

You cup his face and look into his eyes, “I’m sure your strongest sperm is swimming and making its way to where it needs to be.”  

. . .

E/n: he's so dreamy.

>>>@queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

[neckromantics]

More creepy and unsettling, creature Astarion please.

I beg of thee. Vampires are meant to be an uncanny valley type of thing. An undead creature of the night that passes itself as just the right amount of living and mortal for you to let your guard down. I need more examples of his vampiric nature showing once he's grown comfortable enough, and I need it now.

~

An Astarion who is so silent in his movements that you often got jump scared by it in the earlier stages of your relationship.

You'd be lounging around on the sofa. Reading a book, lost in thought, all serene and cozy beneath a nice knitted blanket-- just having an all around nice, relaxing time when you see movement out of the corner of your eye. You glance up for just a moment, to the space before you that was previously unoccupied, and his entire face is suddenly hovering right in front of you.

Just waiting. Not moving. Pupils blown so huge that there's barely any color left to his eyes. Fangs are peeking out over the bruise-purple skin of his bottom lip. He's pallid. White as a corpse. Definitely in need of a good feeding.

His intentions were entirely innocent. He really only meant to ask you a question, and here you are being all dramatic and jumping several feet into the air and throwing your book off to the side in a panic. Thankfully, you're able to catch yourself before you full on shriek in his face.

(You love him and his ghoulishly handsome face, you really and truly do, but you sincerely thought for a moment that he was a spectre come to take you to the afterlife.)

~

Astarion, who routinely forgets to breathe. Yanno, like it's nothing.

You're well aware of the fact that vampires don't need to breathe. It's more of a force of habit than anything else, really-- something left over from when he was still mortal, he says.

Although, during bouts of intense emotion, or some sort of uh, stimulation, the focus on something so trivial gets put on the backburner for a bit.

The two of you will be sharing a particularly passionate kiss (or worse) when you feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest stop short. It's like all of the air has gotten caught in his lungs, and he ends up making these creaky grudge-like sounds in place of his usual low moaning. A clicking in the back of his throat in place of a sigh. If you play your cards just right, there might even be a rattling from deep within his chest that almost sounds like a purr.

When he finally does breathe, usually due to a well executed nip to his bottom lip, or the gentle brush of your fingers against one of his ears as you play with his hair, it comes out as an animalistic hiss. A sharp, choking gasp that sends goosebumps down the length of your arms.

~

How you catch him watching you sleep.

How you'll wake up in the pitch black of your bedroom in a cold sweat. Your hair is stood on end, a fearful shudder threatening to rattle your frame. A spike in your pulse that has your sleep addled brain doing somersaults in your skull. All of your instinctual alarm bells go off at once, telling you that something must be terribly wrong. Something must be watching you.

You try to blink away the bleariness-- try to shake off the fog of sleep for long enough to get your bearings, and catch a glint in the dark so ominous that for a moment you're scared stock still.

Something is watching you. Someone, rather.

Astarion's eyes gleam back at you in the dark like a wild animal's might. A bobcat, maybe, like the ones you'd often find stalking pray outside the tree line of camp all those nights ago. Pupils that glow a filmy, holographic orange despite there being no light to reflect off of them.

You don't notice until after you've taken a second to calm yourself that he's hovering over you. The bed just barely dips from his weight as he supports himself, and you'd be baffled by it all if you had any braincells left.

"Go back to sleep, darling." His voice is so soft, even over the pounding against your eardrums. Soothing. Tranquilizing. And though your eyes do begin to feel heavy, you're not exactly in the mood for rest anymore.

Especially not when he's pressing cold, feather-light kisses down the length of your throat not a moment later.

~

Please, I beg. Give me more.

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Competing With Gods

Luke Castellan x Aphrodite!Reader, Apollo x uninterested!Reader

Request: Hi could you write luke castellan x reader, where Luke gets jealous of a guy who tries with y/n? How would he react if y/n is at the game? Thank you

Summary: When Apollo is sent to camp as a punishment, he sets his sights on Luke's girlfriend.

Warning: Fighting, jealousy, making out, the slightest allusions to/implied smut, Apollo being a dick

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist

A/N So instead of another camper or whatever, I’m making the other guy Apollo.

Apollo crashed into the ground of Camp Half-Blood. Right in the middle of all the cabins. Great. He briefly cursed Zeus for this. He was being punished for flirting with a nymph the big guy was interested in. And when Apollo had told his father to maybe focus on his wife, Zeus banished him to Camp Half-Blood for a few weeks as a “warning.”

The Half-Bloods began to peek out of their cabins but one girl was already rushing over. Her hair fell over her shoulder so nicely as she kneeled over him. Okay, maybe camp wouldn’t be so bad. She gave him a concerned look. “Are you alright?”

“Now that you’re here,” he immediately started flirting. He enjoyed the way she immediately became flustered and jumped to his feet. She looked up at him in bewilderment. She saw him fall. She wasn’t a daughter of Apollo but he should have been suffering from at least a few broken bones. “I’m Apollo,” he clarified with a proud smirk. By now all the other campers within the vicinity were near enough to hear and kneeled. The girl did too, kneeling with a lowered head. He reached out a hand to her. She took it hesitantly, standing up. “Who are you, gorgeous?”

She became further embarrassed. How do I bring up Luke? She briefly wondered. “Y/N. Daughter of Aphrodite.”

“I should have known,” the god flirted. “What with those mesmerizing eyes.”

“Lord Apollo,” a voice interrupted him. He turned, finding Chiron trotting over. “My apologies, I was just notified of your arrival.”

“No worries,” the god smiled. The nice thing about not being around gods is that you get called things like Lord.

“Please,” Chiron began, gesturing over to a big house, “let me show you around. Your father has a few requests for you whilst here.”

“Of course he does,” he rolled his eyes. He turned back to the girl. “I’ll see you around, gorgeous,” he winked.

As he left all the campers were left in shock. Especially Y/N. And even more so, her boyfriend. Luke went up to her, finding her still in astonishment. “Sooo… that was weird,” he began, trying to not show his jealousy.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “Was Apollo just flirting with me?”

“Yes!” Silena gushed as she ran up to her best friend/half-sister. “Oh my gods, a god is interested in you!” She then seemed to notice Luke and remember their relationship. “Oh- uh. Sorry, Luke.”

He just gave her a tight lipped smile.

“Oh my gods, what am I gonna do?” Y/N asked, clearly stressed out.

Luke shrugged, again trying not to show his jealousy. “Not much you can do. It’s not like you can tell him to leave you alone.”

“If you really don’t want him then you can tell him you have a boyfriend. And a sister,” Silena suggested with a raised eyebrow.

Her sister laughed. “I was trying to think of a way to mention Luke. And Silena, you’re 16.”

“He looks 18!” she insisted.

“Even if he was actually 18 I’d say he’s too old for you. Come on, the bathroom still needs to be cleaned after Drew decided she wanted to dye her hair black.”

“Yeah well, she’s crying now because she wants to be blonde again,” Silena explained as the sisters walked back to their cabin.

Feeling mildly ignored, Luke yelled after them. “I’ll see you at dinner!”

Remembering her boyfriend, Y/N ran back to him, pressing a peck on her lips. “Sorry. I’ll see you later.” He watched her go, trying to not think about it too much. She never forgot to kiss him goodbye but he tried to chalk it up to the fact that she was shocked by Apollo’s appearance.

~

That evening at dinner everyone had noticed the “new camper” sitting at the Apollo table looking very unhappy. Chiron stood up and called everyone’s attention. “As you all know, we have a very honored guest staying with us for a while. Lord Zeus had requested that we treat him as we would any other camper.” As he finished he gave us all a long, hard look as if to say, “Don’t get yourself killed when his immortality is restored.”

Once dinner finished, everyone was at the bonfire. Luke sat on the ground, his back resting up against a log. His girlfriend was leaning up against his shoulder, her legs over his lap. His free arm would occasionally swipe the mosquitos away from her with his other arm supporting her weight. They were talking to a few other campers when Luke let his gaze fall onto Apollo. Some campers, mostly girls from Aphrodite, sat around the god, looking at him with cartoon hearts in their eyes. He knew for a fact Y/N had told them to stay away as a. they were all minors and b. he was a god and she didn’t want to deal with their broken hearts.

When Apollo’s gaze fell on the girl in his lap, Luke tightened his grip protectively. He knew it was ridiculous. Y/N would never cheat on him and he knew she’d slap any guy who tried anything, immortal deity or not. But he couldn’t help but be worried. Hell, he had nearly punched an Ares camper last year and that kid wasn’t a god. And Apollo was known for his womanizing ways.

He tried to shake it off and go back to his conversation but his brain was still stuck on Apollo. “Hey,” he whispered so softly that only the girl in his lap could hear. She turned and he immediately kissed her. She kissed him back briefly but pulled away, not a huge fan of PDA especially in front of the entire camp. But Luke persisted, gently holding her cheek and kissing her deeply.

When she finally pulled away for breath she looked at him quizzically. “What was that for?”

He smiled and shrugged. “What? I can’t kiss my girlfriend?” She just smiled, pushing his head away jokingly before going back to her conversation. But he was looking at Apollo again, hoping the god saw that kiss. If he did, he was playing it off.

Later that night, when the fire was extinguished and he had kissed the Aphrodite counselor goodnight several times, Luke was trying to sleep. Keyword: trying. Normally the several snores or creeks of the Hermes cabin didn’t bother him, but he was so on edge thinking about Apollo’s flirting, that every noise jolted him awake. He couldn’t stop thinking about how Apollo had immediately begun to flirt with Y/N and how she had seemed to forget him for a moment.

Frustrated, Luke crept out of bed. As he opened the cabin door, he checked for harpies keeping watch but found none. So he went to the Aphrodite cabin, knocking on the window right above Y/N’s bed. It took a few tries but eventually, she poked her head up, gesturing to shut up and that she’d be out in a minute.

So Luke waited until she came around the side. “What?” she asked, still rubbing sleep from her eyes. But her hair was already falling back to the way its usual flawless look, courtesy of being Aphrodite’s daughter.

“I just wanted to see you,” Luke smiled sheepishly. And make sure Apollo isn’t sniffing around. He realized he didn’t have a reason to be out here that didn’t stem from insane jealousy. She looked mildly annoyed at that so he did the only thing he could think of. He kissed her. If he couldn’t get rid of Apollo, he could completely occupy her mind. So he did the only thing he could think of. He was pushing her up against the side of the cabin, one hand on her jaw, the other around her waist.

She had no clue where this came from but she gave in nonetheless. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply.

After a few minutes of making out, she finally managed to push him away enough to get a deep breath in. “What was that for?” she asked, both of them still gasping for air.

Luke smiled, grabbing her by the hips to pull her closer. “‘Cause I love you.” He pressed the lightest kiss to her nose before stepping away abruptly. “Night, see you in the morning.” And with that, he walked away the happiest demigod in all of camp.

The daughter of Aphrodite still just stood there, completely taken off guard. The only thing that snapped her out of her daze was the faint caw of a harpy, making her quickly scramble inside. Luke ended up getting his wish as that night, the only thing on her mind was that kiss.

~

The next day was Capture the Flag day. When Chiron announced it at dinner that night, everyone lost their minds. It was Athena, Hermes, Aphrodite, Hephaestus, and Poseidon vs. Ares, Apollo, Demeter, and Dionysus.

As the couple was walking over to their cabins to get their armor, Apollo caught up with them. “See you out there, Y/N,” he said as he passed with a wink.

“S-see yah?” she called back hesitantly.

Luke was frustrated but at least she didn’t seem flattered by his flirtations. Now she was just confused.

Once they grabbed their chest plates, then went back to the creek where they’d be starting the games. As Luke put his on, she was struggling to get hers tightened. “Hold on, I’ll help you in a sec,” he said, finishing strapping his onto his body.

“I got it,” a voice interrupted. Apollo seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He was standing in front of Y/N, tightening the strap.

“Hey!” Luke yelled without thinking.

Apollo held up one hand in surrender, the other still on her shoulder. “Chill man, I’m just helping.” Luke didn’t say anything else as Apollo walked away with a slight smirk.

“Hey,” Y/N said softly, stepping closer to him. “What was that about?”

Luke gritted his teeth. “Nothing. C’mon, I need to assign everyone and talk strategy.” He took her hand gently, reminding himself to not let his anger get the better of him. He headed over, gathering the team. “Alright, Cabins 6, 3, and 11 will be offense. Cabins 9, 10, and 12 will be defense. Except for Y/N, you’re with me. Beckendorf, you’ll also be offense.” He pointed out a few Athena and Hermes campers, directing them to defense as well.

After a few minutes, the conch blew and everyone was in their places. The couple quickly jumped over the creek, slipping through the Apollo cabin’s defenses. They had done this so many times, their routine was well practiced. They ran through the woods, searching for any opposing defense.

The other teams had learned that Y/N and Luke always worked as a pair so they started also pairing defensive players. That is when Hermes and Aphrodite were on the same side. If they weren’t, Capture the Flag could go on for hours since they knew all of each others’ tricks.

They continued on, occasionally making quick work of disarming opposing campers until they reached the flag. It was only guarded by one person. Apollo. Clarisse must have figured that everyone else would be too afraid to offend a god. But Luke was honestly looking for this opportunity.

So while Y/N fell back, hesitating, Luke was jumping at the god. Apollo blocked him with a sword but he was clearly not very good with it. Archery had been banned since before Luke got to camp. Even though the arrows were enchanted not to kill, someone had been blinded so Chiron banned them forever. He didn’t even make an exception for the god of archery.

While Luke fought Apollo, Y/N was grabbing the flag. “Luke!” she yelled, waving the flag. She then took off, heading for their territory. Because of Apollo’s inexperience with the sword, Luke was easily beating him. After a few slashes on the god’s arms, legs, and even face—nothing major, they were honestly just cuts a band aid could fix—Luke was disarming him. He didn’t have to be as brutal as he was or knock him over but he did, throwing the god’s sword far away before following after Y/N.

Luke was still a few feet behind her when she hopped over the creek into safety. He watched proudly as she ripped the helmet off her head and held the flag up triumphantly. The members of their team around her cheered triumphantly as the conch blew and their team was announced the winners.

Luke was still in enemy territory, watching her have her moment when Apollo showed up. “She’s really something,” the god announced, his smile focused on her.

“Yeah, my girlfriend really is incredible,” Luke said pointedly.

The god was still smiling. “I know she’s your girlfriend. I saw you making out with her last night.”

“What were you doing out at two a.m.?”

The god looked even more smug, his arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t have to answer to you. But if you must know, I had the same idea as you but you got there first.” Luke finally looked at him, rage once again filling his body. So he wasn’t paranoid. “How long have you been together?”

Luke was confused but answered nonetheless. “Uh three years,” he answered suspiciously.

“Aw, three years down the drain. I’m sorry in advance,” the god said in exaggerated regret.

Luke tried not to let his fury show. This is why he hated gods. They thought they could do whatever they wanted without regard for mortals. “Well, she loves me. At night she swears we were made for each other,” he said, recalling sweaty nights during the school year when every other Aphrodite kid was home. And how they’d make breathless promises of eternity.

Apollo gave him an almost pitiful look. “I’m sorry about your relationship but you can’t actually believe she’ll pick you when she could have a literal god?” he gestured to himself arrogantly.

Now it was Luke’s turn to gloat. He just shrugged, “I’m the one she calls for. She doesn’t call for the gods like most others would. She only ever says my name.”

Apollo was a little taken aback by the kid’s boldness. “Well, that’s the nice thing about being a god. I can make anyone mine.” And with that Apollo headed over to the capture the flag winner of the night. It took everything in him not to race up to her but he kept his composure. She’d have to reject him on her own, he couldn’t keep running defense.

He watched in surprised satisfaction as Apollo reached her. He congratulated her before pulling her into a hug. His arms were around her waist and creeping kind of low but Luke once again kept his resolve. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until she pulled away quickly, pointing over at him. What was she saying? Was she praising him for fighting the god? Or telling him that she had a boyfriend?

Apollo tried to hug her again but she ducked under his arm, running over to him. He immediately broke out into a smile. Her arms were opened to hug him but he just grabbed her face to kiss her instead. He turned her towards the tree he had been leaning on, pressing her up against it again. He only pulled away slightly to whisper a congratulations but then their lips were connected again. When he finally pulled away, he threw an arm around her shoulder, shooting a look to the god before heading off to their celebration.

That night as they were celebrating, Luke was glued to Y/N’s side. It wasn’t until some of the other Hermes boys needed help getting their illegal video game working again that Luke left her side. “I’ll be back,” he promised her, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead.

As soon as Luke was gone, Apollo was swooping in. “Congratulations again,” he said, handing her a drink.

“Thanks,” she smiled nervously, taking the drink. “How are the cuts?”

Apollo shrugged. “They sting more than I would’ve thought but they’re fine. Your boyfriend’s a hell of a fighter.”

“Yeah,” she chuckled, relieved that he was acknowledging she had a boyfriend.

“I mean, he’s good for a mortal. He’s certainly no god,” Apollo flirted.

“Well, none of us are. Present company excluded,” she laughed nervously, gesturing to him.

Apollo casually threw an arm around her shoulder. “There’s other things we’re better at,” he said, letting the implication hang in the air. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. “Have you ever been with a god, Y/N?”

She was immediately pulling out of his grasp. “I- uh… um no. I’m flattered but…” She had no clue what to say. She couldn’t just say no to Apollo. If this were any other man she’d throw her drink in his face but this was a god.

She didn’t have to say anything because Luke had seen the whole thing. As he came back he saw Apollo throw his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulder and subsequently watched her back away quickly. “I told you she loves me,” he smirked before tugging her away. She gratefully pressed herself into his body.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, careful that Apollo couldn’t hear.

“Hey, you don’t have to thank me. This is kind of my job as your boyfriend.”

“Still, you basically told him to back off. Kind of bold to deny a god.”

“Yeah, well,” he began, brushing a hair back from her face, “if he smites me we’ll just have to make up for the lost time in Elysium.” She giggled, hugging him closer as they headed off to bed.

Masterlist

[pawified]

thinkin abt how you just cling to your stepbrother!satoru. it doesn’t matter if his girlfriend is around or that his peers find your infatuation with him strange. — you love him.

satoru knows he should tell you off about how it’s not okay for you to kiss him on the lips or prance around the house in just a t-shirt that barely covers your ass, but he doesn’t.

When his girlfriend told him how you shouldn’t act that way towards him, he shrugs it off and tells her that you grew up without a brother so you think its normal; thats a lie and he knows it.

satoru is the reason why, you act like this now. he is just as twisted as you are. he won’t admit it because well, he doesn’t care too.

how is it his fault that his sweet little sister relies on him for love? something she should be finding in a romantic lover, not him. he tried, he really did. but fuck, how could he not corrupt you, especially when you would look at him with those sweet puppy dog eyes.

fast forward to 2 months later after the conversation with his girlfriend, he should feel guilty about how he lied to his partner, but he doesn’t not when he has you drooling on his cock like this; spit smeared all over your pretty little face, your eyes are wide and glossed over and hair all over the place.

the sight before him is enough evidence for satan himself to sentence satoru too hell. he shouldn’t be in your room let alone seated on your baby pink bed sheet fucking your throat like this. no, not at all.

“fuck me, you are one dirty little girl.” he groans out as he taps the tip of his dick on your cheek. you say nothing, pulling at his leg signaling him to hurry up.

he lets out a laugh, “such a greedy little thing.” he picks you up off the floor and seats you on his lap, his cock slotted in between your folds; your hands fall against his shoulders, gripping his tshirt. “toru , p-please”

“be patient puppy, can you do that for me?” he asks, you nod your head in agreement. he positions his self perfectly against your slit, he begins rocking your hips back and forth so that the head of his cock catches your clit. you try to silence your cries, but you can’t not when it feels this good.

“oh my-my god.” you fall forward, chest pressed up against his panting in his ear. “yeah? it feels good, doesn’t it?” his hand comes down leaving a harsh smack against your ass.

you say nothing, arms wrapped tightly around your brothers shoulders with your eyes shut tight, trying to focus on your release. “gonna, m’ gonna cum toru” just as you tell him, he is slowing down your hips and pulling away “th-that is’nt fair” you whine, you try grinding against him again but he has a iron grip on your hips making you unable to move.

“play nice doll, i will give you what you want. i promise” he has a whicked grin plastered on his face, he tlits his head and brushes a strand of hair behind your shoulder, leaning down and sucking a big deep red hickey on your shoulder blade, you gasp as he is pulling away “but you have to let me stick the tip in.”