#THIS IS A JOKE. MOSTLY. I CAN'T SAY I DON'T HEAR HIS VOICE WHEN THIS HAPPENS

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

felix hugo fraldarius ruining my video game experience, even the replays, since 2019

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - warning: postpartum depression requested by multiple: mama's family

"Where's my baby?!"

You can practically hear your teeth grinding together as you give your aunt a tight lipped smile. "He's due to get up any minute." She sighs, like it's an inconvenience, your mom hot on her heels.

"Hi honey," she says, glancing around your now pristine flat, "how are things?"

"Oh, fine." It's the same thing you've been saying this whole time. I'm fine. I'm good. Everything is great. "Went to the pediatrician the other day, Ry is perfect and healthy." You omit the rest of your news, the sudden reappearance of Simon, the stable, consistent presence in your life, the man who was supporting you in anyway he could.

Even though you absolutely do not want your mom or your aunt to meet him, let alone know about him-

you still kind of wish he was here.

He told you yesterday, regretfully, that he had meetings on base all day today, and you told him your mom and aunt were coming by, but probably wouldn't stay long. It was good, that he wouldn't be around.

Before he left for the night, he made you promise to call if you needed him. Text him to check in. You did as he asked, but didn't hear much. Not a surprise, since he said he wouldn't have a lot of time to respond, but still wanted updates.

"That's great honey." Her smile is genuine, and you know she means it. She does mean well, mostly. It's not her fault you're bad at asking for help, or that since you left home, you've become stubbornly independent. You even spent a few years "gallivanting across the globe" as your sister liked to say, shirking responsibility after uni.

Your family was used to you being a bit of a ghost.

"- don't you think?" Your aunt's voice brings you back to earth, and you nod robotically, unsure of what you're agreeing to. You're about to apologize for missing the conversation when the baby monitor on the kitchen counter lights up, Orion's fussy 'I just woke up mom, come get me' cry crackling from the speaker.

"That's for me." You joke half heartedly with a smile that doesn't reach your eyes. You know the battle with ensue as soon as you come back into the living room with the baby, and you dread it.

"Hi baby." You bend at the waist, scooping him out of his crib. "You're gettin' too heavy for mama, big boy. Don't know what I'm gonna do when you're older." The thought stops you in your tracks, the acknowledgement that he'll get older, that soon he'll be six months, and then a year, two. He'll learn to crawl, to walk, to speak. It's exciting, and anxiety inducing. What if you mess him up? What if you don't give him a good life? What if you're not a good mom, or he gets sick, or there's an accident, or an attack or-

No. You're not going to do this. You're not going to fall into these obsessive what ifs. It will only make you sick to your stomach.

You get him into a new nappy and clothes before slinking back into the living room, cowed with your head down. His head turns against your chest, seeking, and you know he's starting to realize he's hungry.

But the vultures don't care.

"Bring that boy over here, let me hold him." Your aunt croons, syrupy sick voice conjuring a roar of nausea.

"He's probably hungry." You start to warn them that this won't last long as you lower him into her arms, but you know it will fall on deaf ears. "So-"

"Just get a bottle from the fridge dear, I can feed him no problem." You fight the urge to to snap at her, unreasonable rage swelling inside your heart. No one feeds him except you, and Simon. Bottles are fine when you're asleep and can't nurse, or between feedings, but he doesn't eat as much from them. Of course, you've tried to tell them that, multiple times, but it never seems to stick. Your mom knows, but she never stands up to her older sister.

Like mother like daughter, you guess. You've never been a doormat per se, but you don't have a strongest backbone, and becoming a mom has changed you, a lot. You've become even more soft, more sensitive. It's... a problem.

"How are you feeling, honey?" You know she's asking mostly about your body, your stitches, your physical aches and pains, which were plenty considering what you went through when Ry was born, but your mom's voice is gentle, like she senses you frustration, and you give her a weak smile. It's nice she's expressing interest, but that's usually as far as it goes, unless you count the meals she's brought over that you barely picked it, not having enough energy to even feed yourself, or shower, or the suggestion that you give her the baby all the time so you could 'take a break' even though he screamed the moment he was separated from you. Not helpful. Nobody cared that you had scary thoughts, scary moments, scary days. Nobody offered to be here at night with you, when you were all alone with the baby after dark, terrified, crying in the bathroom with your face buried in a towel so you wouldn't wake him. No one was here when you were afraid you might hurt him, or yourself, and no one seemed to hear you when you shrugged over and over again, your lack of interest in everything explicitly clear.

You sucked at asking for help, so you didn't. And when you did, you never got it right, or got the right answers, so you stopped asking. Everything became fine. Good.

"Fine, good." She opens her mouth to say something, ask some question, probably about Ry, when your blood goes cold.

The sound of your front door opening rings out like a bang, your eyes widening in panic, and you nearly run to the kitchen.

Oh fuck. Oh no, no no no-

You turn in slow motion to see your baby's daddy, the man who has a key now, stepping through the doorway. As soon as you lay eyes on him, you split down the middle. You're horrified, because of what's about to happen with the two hens on the couch and-

your libido roars to life. Simon's not wearing his usual jeans or joggers and black hoodie, but a camouflage military uniform. One that he fills out, broad shoulders and broad chest fitted snug inside the material. You think you're staring. Or drooling. Or both.

His lips quirk up on one side with a secretive, almost seductive smile, and he peeks over your shoulder before turning his attention back to you. "Hey mama."

"H-hey. Uh. Hi." Your hands uselessly flit around, like you're trying to swat some invisible bugs away or something. "My mom is still here. And my aunt," you can't help yourself, you take him in from head to toe one more time, "you look... nice."

"Price makes me wear my BDU for on base meetings." He grunts, slightly exasperated. Who?

"BDU?"

"Battle dress uniform. It's... the approved, standard uniform. I don't wear it... in the field." His lips press together, and your mind wanders, curious questions about 'the field' popping up like fireworks, but you push them away. Now is definitely not the right time. His thumb brushes your cheek, under your eye, and he frowns. "Everything alright?"

You step to the side, motioning to the living room, where your aunt and mother are whispering fiercely. You roll your shoulders, and take a deep breath. "Do you... want to, say hi?" The question is weak, your voice small. His brow furrows. He looks hesitant, and you don't blame him. They're a lot. It's a lot. He glances down at you again, head tilted in consideration. "Or you could just go. If you ran out that door... well I'd only wish I could come with you." You whisper, and he cracks a smile.

"No. 'm not runnin' from any part of you, sweetheart. C'mon. They can't be worse than..." he trails off, odd look in his eyes before it clears, "they can't be worse than a lot of things."

He follows you around the corner of the kitchen, crossing the threshold of the living room with two large strides.

Your mother gasps. Your aunt makes a sound that you can only describe as a goose being strangled, and Orion starts to cry. Perfect.

"Oh, oh shhh, shhhh." Your aunt tries to soothe him, but you know it won't work.

"Mom," you call over the noise, gesturing to the giant man standing next to your coffee table, and you, "Mom! This is Simon." She stares at you, confused, shocked even. You never told her your one night stand's name, just that you couldn't track him down, so she doesn't make the connection.

Still, she gapes at him. Clears her throat with a question.

"Is this... your boyfriend honey?" Your aunt's expression is not much different, and you freeze. Is he? Is that what this is? You half expect Simon to reject the term boyfriend flat out, but instead-

"Something like that." His hand settles between your shoulder blades, and you lean into it, relishing the comfort. Just the presence of him in the flat is enough to soothe you, lessen the tension you feel building in your chest. "Sounds like he's hungry, mama."

"Yeah, I think he's more than ready." You reach for Ry, eager to pick him up, but your aunt shifts her body, shying away, turning her shoulder to you. You're used to this, the keep away, the way they always try to convince you he'll calm down, to let them hold him for too long, to get him a bottle... but Simon is not.

He goes rigid at your side. You can feel the muscle in his arm turn to stone, and his eyes narrow, upper lip curling. Your mother's eyes go wide, but your aunt remains oblivious. "I can feed him, dear. Go get a bottle warmed up and-"

"No." Simon snaps, rough pitch of his voice dipping deeper into the manc accent, and she bristles. This bitch wouldn't be scared of the devil himself.

"Excuse me?" You watch the muscle in his jaw flex with fascination, wondering what he'll do next. You're brought back to when you met, when he stared down the guy who pushed you out of the way at the bar like he was going to murder him, before calling you over to settle next to his thigh. He put his hand on your waist, shielded you from everyone else for the rest of the night.

You were a goner before you ever had a chance to begin.

"Orion wants his mother. You can hand him over without a fuss, or I can throw you out of this flat. Your choice." His words are hard, cold steel, a sharp knife slicing away, exposing vulnerable parts and smashing them to pieces.

Your aunt has the gall to look scandalized, but when you glance at your mother, she has a different expression. It's warm. Approving. She mets your eyes with a small smile as you scoop Orion up, and then she stands.

"We'll get out of your hair, honey." She tugs you into a half hug before looking over. "Nice to meet you Simon." Your aunt is ranting and raving all the way to your front door, but once it's shut...

"Bloody hell." He mutters, and shakes his head. "I won't let anyone push you 'round like that, sweetheart. Family or not. Especially not in your own home, I-"

"Thank you." It's all you can say. "I um, kind of suck at sticking up for myself, sometimes. It means a lot, that you would do that. For me." He steps close, hand covering Orion's belly and chest, even though he's still crying.

"Kitten doesn't have any claws," he murmurs against your ear, and your eyebrows knit together. Uh... what? "Don't worry, you won't need 'em. Not now that you have me." There's something dangerous in his tone, something lethal and profound. It’s as fervid as his proclamation about his commitment to you, to Orion. Like dark water, bottomless and black, it draws you out deeper, sends shivers up your spine, but doesn't turn you away. It makes you curious, intrigued, desperate to peel back his layers, to dig into him until you know it all, inside and out.

Curiosity killed the cat, isn’t that what they say?

You weren't afraid of him that night, and you're not afraid now. You know Simon is not an ordinary man. You know you've bitten off a lot, by having his baby, rekindling this connection, giving him a key-

but you plan to chew.

[luveline]

maybe a bombshell!reader where she is OBSESSED with touching and making out with glasses!reid and he is so confused why she is always all over him. i think bc he never went thru that horny teenage phase, or even the "honeymoon" phase of a relationship, he doesnt quite understand why she is acting that way (not that he's complaining)

tysm for requesting ♡ fem, 1k

There's something soft under Spencer's cheek. His lashes brush against it like the wing of a trapped butterfly as he wakes, his fatigue a weight on his tongue. He wonders where he is for a worrying moment, hand stretched out to feel the couch cushions beneath him. 

The sounds of you reach him from down the hall. The crinkling of your coat set up on a hook near the door, the squeak of your shoes on hardwood, and the familiar lilt of your voice as you sigh, speaking to yourself in quiet tones, "Unlucky." 

He rubs his eyes and sits up. "What's unlucky?" he asks, his throat burning. He must've been sleeping open-mouthed, which is perfect. Attractive, he thinks scathingly. He's less annoyed and more disgusted when he feels the dried drool in the corner of his mouth. 

You don't answer him. Spencer forces his tired eyes to work, sitting up on knees on the couch to try and get a look at you. He can't see into the kitchen from here, to his dismay, but he can hear the contents of your fridge door clinking together. 

You turn the corner with a bottle of water in your hands. When you see him waiting for you your smile bumps up a notch, pretty to cataclysmic, world-ending and life-ruining, all manner of awful as you hurry down the hall in your socks to kiss him. 

Why you'd want to is anyone's guess. He can imagine how he looks, curls matted at the back and frizzy at the sides. Spencer can't help cringing as your fingers weave into the hair at the nape of his neck, your lips a soft pressure against his for a few more blissful seconds. 

You pull back concisely. "You fell asleep?" Your hand comes up, your thumb rubbing gently at his nose bridge. With your other hand, you press the bottle of water to his shoulder. "With your glasses on?" 

He nods in defeat. If he didn't look like a mess, if he hadn't face planted into your fancy couch in his rumpled jeans, even if he were at his best, he's still hopeless, because they messed up his contacts again. You're vocally fond of them even if he hates them. 

"I remember the first time I saw you without them," you say, your kind thumb moving to rub a fond quarter circle into his cheek. "You were," —you steal a kiss, your nose pressed to his, pulling back and pushing in between words— "chasing the tail of that movie star." Kiss, kiss. He loses his grip on the water in favour of your arm. "You looked," —your kisses turn melty warm and impossibly softer— "so, so shy." 

You pull away to card his hair back. Not particularly gentle but never cruel, you rake his curls out of his face swiftly. "How come you never get shy with me?" 

"Don't pretend I never did," he says. It's embarrassing but it happened. 

"Fine, you did." You tuck his hair behind his ears. "Not as often as everyone thought you would." 

"You were kidding. Or, I confidently thought you were kidding. I could write it off as a joke, pity–" 

His timidity with you rose and fell and rose again. These days it simmers, waiting for you to surprise him or tease him or do as you're doing now, rounding the couch to push at him until he sits. You ease into his lap, mostly off of him, a knee to his right and a knee between his legs as your arms circle his back. He's quick to hug you rather than have you slip backward out of his arms. 

"I never pitied you," you say, kissing him again, no signs of stopping. "Don't say that. It's not true. I saw you were a catch before anyone else did, that's all." 

Spencer can't argue with you. He's honestly not interested, distracted by your weight and the heat of your lips as they part against his. To go back and tell the Spencer from a year ago that his bombshell of a coworker, the one who flirts with a sticky charmed smile, who sits on the lip of his desk making eyes at him, and who never takes the easy blows, wasn't joking? It would stunt his brain. It might send him into a cardiac episode. 

To tell him that she's in his lap more often than not? 

Spencer's lucky to be alive. He laughs as he thinks it, his stomach stirring while you scratch carefully at his scalp.

"What?" you ask, voice a stretched murmur, close enough to husky to wind him. "Tickles?" 

"No," he says, "nothing, it's nice." 

He's greedy and a total amateur, pulling your face back down to his in hopes of sparking another heavy kiss. You're enticed for a bit, but Spencer knows his laugh is bothering you, so he steals a last rough kiss before dropping his forehead into your cheek. 

You pet his neck softly. "What, Spence?" 

"It's just unreal, sometimes. It's weird." He can't hide, his glasses jabbing into his eye.

When he lifts his head, you breathe out a laugh and take the glasses from his nose. You fold them, set them carefully on the couch beside you, and meet his gaze fondly. Your lashes kiss in the corners with your smile, pretty lips a balmed pout. He can feel the waxy transfer your kisses have left on his own lips and the skin around them. You're enthusiastic. 

"What's weird?" you ask. 

"How much you like me." 

"Have you ever heard of the honeymoon phase?" 

"The romance feeling very intense at the start of a relationship until we're used to one another," he answers. 

"Right. Well, I'm used to you. I intend on honeymooning with you until you die. And you're in your prime, sweetheart, so…" You lean in with your head tilted heavily to the side, pausing with your lips only just touching his. "You'll have to get used to it," you whisper, waiting. 

Spencer kisses upward slowly. You sigh into his mouth, double when he paws at the small of your back and squeezes you close to his chest, thankful you took off his glasses. 

[earthtooz]

quick rin hc because i need these thoughts to go somewhere before it eats me alive.

when you first starting dating itoshi rin, you never thought he'd be the clingy type.

and your theory proved true for the first few months of your relationship. most physical affection was initiated by you, you were the one holding his hand, latching yourself onto his arm, and leaving kisses on his cheek so that if he was uncomfortable, he could easily shake you off.

not that rin ever did. if you weren't so nervous, you would've seen the crack in his apathetic facade, his face turning a traitorous shade of red.

well. now that you're a year or so down into the relationship, it's safe to say that you were very wrong about your assumption.

itoshi rin loves by making his mark. he's only happy once he's sure that everyone knows who you're with.

whether that's with a protective arm around your waist, paparazzi photos of the two of you together in your own little world, or showing you off in clothes of his (or hickeys), rin will happily give you all of him.

he gets a little too grumpy when you start your day before him, making him miss the chance to cherish your warmth and admire your beauty for a little longer.

he pats your side of the bed blindly and groans when he doesn't feel you there, the space pitifully empty when he lugs his body over to where you should be. rin should get up and find you, really, but he hates starting the day when you're not the first thing he sees.

fortunately for him, you hear him from where you were doing your morning routine in the bathroom.

opening the en suite door, you're amused to see your boyfriend like this, subtly distraught and splayed all over the mattress.

"good morning, you," is what you say to him whilst walking over, now feeling rejuvenated and ready to start the day. that was your first mistake because rin then all but drags you down onto the bed with him, encasing you in his arms.

he hasn't even said good morning back.

"hey! let go, jerk!" you huff, hitting his chest lightly.

"no."

"rin!"

"no."

"what do you mean-"

"no."

"rin, c'mon, let me go."

"no. now shut up, wanna hold you."

as if helping his argument, he throws the covers over the two of you, sighing quietly in satisfaction when you return his affection, amused enough to listen to his command. "y'know it's 9am right now. shouldn't you be doing your workout?"

"don't care. shut up."

"so mean. you're lucky i'm with you, even if you're horrible," you say, mostly as a joke. he can tell by the airiness of your voice, but rin stills a little in your arms before pushing more of his weight on top of you, placing a kiss to your jaw for good measure. several kisses, actually.

"shut up. please?"

"you're so stupid," the breathy laughter that escapes you only causes rin to tuck himself further into your warmth.

rin also gets a little too grumpy when you tell him that you're going out with your friends. at this point, he stops bothering to hide his disappointment. paired with a pout, he looks at you with such glossy eyes when he asks 'what about our self-care night?' that you have to resist the urge to pinch his cheeks and kiss him silly.

you promise him another night and he's placated when you tell him that you'll give him a full spa treatment.

he grabs onto your shirt to avoid you straying too far. whenever you’re together and see something in a store window, you take a few steps before being inevitably dragged back by itoshi rin, who has a masterful poker face plastered to counter your ‘why did you do that?’ expression.

'don't go where i can't follow' type of boyfriend- why is he dramatic... like babes... i'm going to the bathroom... no you can't come with me...

anyways i'm shutting up now before i ramble too much. so. yeah. clingy!rin is really just... something else...

[snenbubs]

I did it. I did it and nobody stopped me. I'm unstoppable.

I love this horrible big man spider christmas tree ass guy, a bit too much. I've alr done general romantic HCs but IT WASNT ENOUGH.

... so here. Mammon (Helluva Boss) x GN reader NSFW headcannons. I need severe help, but so do you, so....

NSFW Under the cut! 18+ Only!

♡ I've seen a few people claim he'd he a lazy lover, nd whilst i see where they're coming from, i completely disagree. He's the embodiment of Greed, not Sloth! I think, if anything, he's more like an overwhelming, smothering kind of lover ykwm.

- I've said this before, and I will reiterate it, his hands are gonna be on you, all over you. Four hands, might I add. 😋

- I like to think he'd keep one pair on your hips, holding you in place as close to him as he possibly can, because he just NEEDS every inch of you and the other pair would be constantly roaming your body, finding places to squeeze or hold.

- In addition to this i think he'd like any kind of position where he can be as close to you as possible. Your presence overwhelms him and he needs all of it at once so you better be prepared to be pressed flush against his fluffy body.

- His mouth? Always on you. He likes being able to taste you, in more than just one way; biting, kissing... and more...

Also, his tongue is forked. Just thought i'd mention it. Yk. A lil fun fact for your day.

♡ In regards to biting however, i mentioned in my other HCS that he's pretty possesive and that applies here too;

- He gets jealous easy and when he gets jealous he bites harder. Its like a mark, his special mark. He wants people to see you with those bruises, hickeys and bite marks coating your pretty flesh because it means everyone knows you're his.

- If he gets jealous, and bare in mind it does not take a lot to make him jealous, expect not to be able to walk in the morning.

- I feel, due to his needy nature, he's quite a rough lover. I want to believe he tries to be gentle because there will almost definitely be a size difference between you two and you could get hurt, but he can get caught up in the moment and i think he often ends up quite rough.

- Even rougher when jealous.

♡ In general though?

- He deffo drools. You can say "ew gross" all you want but to me? its hot, and he does it, and im the one writing this so theres NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT.

- He definitely has a thing for master/pet relationships BUT i think he also gets a big kick out of hearing you cry out his name.

- I also don't think he's too loud during the act. He makes some noises, probably grunts and maybe a whine if your lucky, but he's mostly silent. If he has his hat on then the sound of jingling bells will probably be extremely overwhelming.

- The thing is, he has to be quiet! Because if he isn't quiet, then he can't hear the sweet sounds you'll be making. And oh, he just LOVES them. He could get drunk off of them. He DOES get drunk off of them.

- By no means though, will he shut his trap. He likes making fun of you, mocking you, making jokes and being generally mean. It's just who he is you gotta accept it.

- His voice is hot though so its a win.

- He probably has a control problem, in that he has to be the one doing everything. If you beg, he might let you take the lead for a bit but ultimately he'll take charge.

- Often though its probably just because you aren't doing things fast enough for him, he has a very high and extremely greedy libido and he knows what he wants.

- Webs. WEBS.

- He is not against tying you up with them, all you have to do is ask. A lot of time, he'll so it so that he can be ever closer to you than he already is.

- But like i said, its your word. If you give the thumbs up then he'll have you bound in no time at all. I'll leave it to your own imagination.

Thats all for now... mayhaps in future i'll do more, make a pt2 or smth but honestly i'm outta ideas.

[leclercss]

Tainted Love, Part 1 (Charles Leclerc)

Masterlist

plot: in an attempt to fix your marriage, you've reluctantly agreed into being in an open relationship with your husband. so far, it's only been your husband that has taken advantage of your recent arrangement until one night out you meet a man who makes you begin to question your marriage.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: (+18) mentions of smut, cheating and some swearing

authors note: this is based on a story that i was writing in my spare time but thought it would be interesting to use Charles and a couple of other drivers as characters instead. so Charles is used as a character inspo rather than it including his life as an f1 driver. would love to hear your thoughts and if you'd be open for a part 2. i'm thinking of making this a longer fic.

word count: 4.8k

"[Y/N!]”

You don't really hear your name being called at first. You've been stuck in your own thoughts for the last five minutes, staring at nothing in particular.

"[Y/N]!" It's a little louder this time but still not enough to knock you out of the deep trance you've found yourself in. It's only when you get an elbow into your side and the champagne that's in your hand falls onto your lap that you finally snap out of it.

"Shit!' you squeal as you look down at the champagne that now soaks the bottom of your dress.

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry," the girl beside you laughs, "We've been trying to your attention for the last minute."

You look up at her, eyebrows furrowed. You can't remember her name. Was it Bethany? Stephanie? You didn't care, to be honest. It didn't really matter anyway; she wasn't your friend. You were only here as you were roped into pre-drinks before a girls' night out by your best friend, who was the only person you know here.

"It's fine, I was totally out of it," you mumble as you reach out for a napkin to dry the bottom of your dress.

"No shit," you hear a familiar voice say with a hint of smugness. You look across the table and see your best friend Whitney holding back a smirk. "You're on your fourth glass of champagne. I'd be out of it too if I was drinking as quickly as you've been".

You chuckle half-heartedly. Laughing it off as if it was the bottle of Moet that you mostly managed to get through on your own which caused you to be zoned out for so long. Not the fact that you’ve been replaying the arguments that you’ve been having with your husband over the last few weeks in your head. Nor the fact that you’ve been thinking about your shambles of a marriage.

As Whitney takes her attention off you to start cleaning up the mess, you let out a little sigh to yourself and go back to your previous thoughts.

How had your marriage gotten to this point?

You had been so in love with your husband when you first met. In fact, he’d been the only person you had ever been in love with. There was a ten-year age gap between the two of you but that hadn’t stopped you both falling for each other so quickly. He was one of the first people you had gotten to know when you first moved to London six years ago. You’d met on a night out about three months after moving to the city. The physical attraction was instant but that blossomed into something much deeper and within two years you had gotten married. He was your rock, your entire world. And maybe that was a bit of a risk for a girl, who at that point was in her early twenties, to depend on somebody so much and so quickly.

You had a few sceptics when it came to your relationship back in the early days. A few friends from back home had told you it was just a whirlwind romance with a hot older guy. Your mother had been unsure about the age gap. What would a girl in her early twenties need from a man in his early thirties? And what would a man in his early thirties need from a woman in her early twenties?

Your brother had joked that it was probably daddy issues.

You married him anyway. And the first two years of marriage had been bliss. Until about eighteen months ago when things had started to change.  Your husband spent more time away from home (he said it was work related), the sex had become less regular (not by a lack of trying on your part) and you slowly started to feel like a spare part in your marriage.

You started to have a feeling that someone else was now involved in your marriage. And that feeling was unofficially confirmed to you when your husband had brought up the possibility of having an open relationship - basically, he could fuck whoever he wanted, and you couldn’t (and wouldn’t) complain about it. You reluctantly agreed. You loved your husband, and you were willing to make this sacrifice if it means that you could start to repair your marriage. But you were so wrong.

Deep down you knew that you were never going to leave him. And your husband knew that too. Six months into your “open relationship” and your husband had been taking full advantage of the arrangement. Meanwhile, you took the opposite approach and hadn’t slept with anyone outside of your marriage. Despite that, your jealousy grew towards your husbands’ new partners and your loyalty was wearing thin. You had initially been quiet about your doubts when it came to your arrangement. But lately you had been more vocal to your husband about your feelings. Of course, he dismissed those feelings. That’s why you were arguing lately. He had told you that it was something you both needed in your marriage, you guys were too dependent on one other. You told him that you should be enough for him, you didn’t need other people to fill whatever void he was feeling. But you were beginning to realise that maybe you weren’t enough for him.

“Oi! Snap out of it. I’ve poured you another glass. But you better drink it quickly. And fix your dress because the Uber is getting here in ten minutes,” Whitney scolds as she shoves the champagne glass back into your hand.

“Thanks, Whit.” You can’t help but smile at her. Apart from your husband, Whitney had been your only other source of love and stability during your years in London. And that was why she had dragged you out tonight to pull you out of your recent misery.

“You know what you need? A girl’s night out! And before you roll your eyes and tell me how you’re officially too old for clubbing, we’re going out. You need to spend time with someone else other than him. And it’s been so long since you’ve been shitfaced,” is what Whitney had said when you had told her that you and your husband had been arguing more and more these days. You still hadn’t told her about the open marriage thing. She’d never forgive you for agreeing to it.

You flash her a smile before downing your last glass of champagne. Despite your hesitation, maybe a girls’ night out was what you needed.

-

“To getting shitfaced!” you yell before throwing the hard liquor down your throat. You try not to gag as you slam the empty shot glass down on the bar. Despite your previous doubts of this girl’s night out, you had been having a good time. It wasn’t your usual scene, but you had made an effort to join in and found yourself in a tipsy but playful mood.

“Come on, Stephanie has found a group of hot guys who’ve got a table,” Whitney shouts in your ear. You look at her and giggle, “Seriously?”

“Seriously! Now come on, I think they’re French.”

You allow yourself to be dragged over to the table where the other girls were mingling and flirting with a group of guys. You take a quick glance; they look about two or three years younger than you. Not your type (there was no harm in looking) but they were definitely good-looking.

“This is my friend Whitney, she’s single by the way. And this is her friend, [Y/N},” you hear Stephanie tell them. “But she’s married”.

One of the guys looks at you and lets out a laugh, “What a shame. Lucky guy”. You try to fake a smile at his remark, but your mind momentarily flashes back to your husband.

Rather than trying to come up with a response, you look around the table for something to drink. “Who’s up for some shots?” you ask before grabbing whatever alcohol you can find on the table. God, the hangover is going to be deadly tomorrow.

Just as you’re about to pour yourself something, you feel someone lean over to place a tray of Jager bombs on the table in front of you. “Did someone say shots?” he shouts before being met with a round of cheers. Before you have a chance to look up, the guy has sat down beside you. He leans over and whispers in your ear, “Weren’t you just doing tequila at the bar?” His breath is hot in your ear, his accent even hotter.

“Didn’t know there was a limit to how many shots a girl could have,” you tease, your playful mood apparent.

As you turn to face him, you’re met with a pair of piercing green eyes staring back at you. Fuck, they’re gorgeous. He’s said something to you but you’re too busy staring into his eyes that’s you have no idea what he’s said to you. “Huh?”

You only break eye contact with him as you notice his eyes start to scan your face, most notably he’s looking at your lips before lowering his eyes towards your cleavage. His eyes stay there for a moment before he’s looking into your eyes again. A knot begins to tie in your stomach.

You feel yourself starting to blush at the intense eye contact when you see his mouth start to move again. You really have no clue what he’s said this time.

“I’m sorry, what?”

He chuckles. He quickly scans your face again, smirk still intact, before leaning over to your ear once more. “I said, there’s no limit as long as it doesn’t stop me dancing with you later.”

As he leans back, you can’t help but admire his face. He has a light amount of facial hair, making his somewhat boyish face slightly more mature and handsome. You notice his dimples as he continues to smirk at you before taking a not-so-subtle glance at his lips. As you look back up at his eyes, you realised your staring is painfully obvious.

He leans over you and grabs two glasses from the tray of shots, handing you one. His eyes are back on yours again as he clinks his glass against yours, “Cheers!” You down the shot, wincing in the process before slamming the glass back on the table. “That was disgusting,” you groan before letting out a giggle.

You look back at the Frenchman who’s smiling at you. “Now I’ve gotten you a drink, are you going to tell me your name?” he asks. As he does so, he leans in slightly, so his face is a little closer to yours.

“It’s [Y/N],” you reply. “And yours?”

But before he has a chance to respond, the guy sitting behind your drinking companion leans over and chuckles, “Leave the girl alone, Charles. She’s married,” before turning back to his previous conversation. The beautiful man in front of you, who you’re assuming is Charles, looks back at you. “Married, huh?” He doesn’t look phased.

You nod. “And he’s not with you tonight?”

“No, it’s girls’ night. No husbands or boyfriends allowed,” you reply.

“And what other rules do you have on these girls’ nights?”

“Get as drunk as humanly possible with a group of hot guys.”

-

You’ve spent quite a while talking to Charles. He’s still flirting with you, lightly pushing the boundaries of “I know you’re married”. You’ve learned he’s from Monaco, not France. And he’s been living in London for about a year with a group of his friends from back home. He’s single (you’re not entirely sure how when he looks like that) and he’s better at handling his alcohol than you are.

You’ve spent a short amount of time getting to know some of his friends. His best friend Joris has been getting cosy with Whitney. You didn’t even get a chance to learn one guy’s name before he had started making out with Stephanie. The others you’re too drunk to remember they’re even here. However, your attention always falls back on Charles. And his attention always falls back on you.

You hadn’t even spared a thought about your husband until you saw your phone light up. First you notice your phone background, a picture of you and your husband kissing in front of the Eiffel Tower (and you’re aware that Charles is looking at your phone too). Then his name pops up on your screen. You glance at the message through your alcohol-blurred vision. It says something along the lines of how your night was going and if you were coming back home tonight. You roll eyes before swiping away the message.

“Husband?” Charles asks you. His finger has been tracing your knee for the last few minutes. You nod, trying to push the face of your husband to the back of your mind.

“Yeah, nothing important.”

Charles smiles at you. “How long have you two been married?”

“Four years, together for six.”

“Six years, you must have been late teens when you got together right?” you think it’s his attempt of saying you look good for your late twenties (as if that’s old). But it works on you momentarily, or it’s the fact that the finger tracing your leg has now turned into a hand.

“Well, I was twenty-one. He’s ten years older,” you tell him.

“And how’s that going? Is he okay with these girls’ nights out?”

You’re not sure why he’s quizzing you. It’s probably because of the face you pulled when you saw your husband’s name pop up on your screen. Or the fact that you haven’t mentioned him once all night. Most girls Charles has come across quickly name-drop their partner into conversations quite quickly if they aren’t interested but not you. Your body language has changed since the mention of your husband. And you’ve only been giving short answers when being questioned about him which tells Charles that your husband may be the reason you’re here tonight.

“He has his nights out, I have mine,” you lie before having a quick look around the table. “I’m not here to talk about married life.”

You momentarily look back to Charles who seems a bit taken back by your bluntness before looking back across at Whitney who’s no longer being occupied by Joris. “Whitney, can we go dancing?”

“Let’s do it!”

You stand up from your seat and look down at Charles. “I’m going to go dance. Whenever you want to do another shot come grab me,” you tell him before Whitney takes your arm and leads you to the dance floor. You feel a bit rude for ending your conversation with Charles so abruptly. But you weren’t here to spend the night talking about a man you’re trying to avoid.

-

Swaying your hips to the music and dancing with your best friend was exactly what you needed. The alcohol was well and truly coursing through your body at this point and it gave you the confidence you needed to feel sexy on the dancefloor. You weren’t a bad dancer by any means, but the numerous shots and glasses of champagne were a big help.

Whitney had reunited with Joris on the dancefloor, grinding and making out with one another. You didn’t mind dancing on your own. You were lost in the rhythm of the music, attracting some bystanders who you subtly moved away from when they got too close.

That was until you felt someone place their arm around your waist from behind. The hand felt familiar, but you couldn’t quite place it until you felt a mouth press against your ear. “You were looking a little lonely, thought I’d come and join you.”

You could get used to that voice whispering in your ear.

You look up at him and smile, “How thoughtful of you, Charles.” You were a little too drunk to care about the fact that his other hand found itself around your waist, pulling your body towards gently towards him. Mostly because you were enjoying it.

You felt his torso press against your back, and you leaned against his body as his hips joined yours in swaying to the music. As the both of you found your rhythm, you pressed your ass against his crotch and grinded a little harder on him. Truly letting yourself get lost in the moment with him. You think you hear Whitney cheer at the sight in front of her, but your only focus is on your movements against Charles. You feel one of his hands slide from your waist towards your ass, squeezing it a little before running it back up your waist to just below your breasts.

Fuck, that felt good.

You lean the back of your head against Charles’ chest and peer up at him through your lashes. He’s looking down at you and slowly moves his face towards yours, hips still moving in synchronisation. You look into his eyes, his attention fully on you before you take a quick glance at his lips. They’re slightly parted and if you didn’t have a slight nagging voice in the back of your head you totally would have kissed him. You’re suddenly nervous, you haven’t felt like this with a guy since you first met your husband. It’s new territory but it excites you. Is this why your husband wanted an open relationship? For the thrill and excitement of being so close and almost intimate with someone that wasn’t you?

Charles notices that you’ve gotten lost in your thoughts but wants your attention back on him. He lifts your chin with his thumb, so your face is closer to his and mimics your actions from a few moments ago – looking into your eyes before looking at your lips. You can feel his breath hitting your face and so you lick your lips. If he wants to kiss you, he’s going to have to make the first move.

He senses this and leans in; your parted lips meet his. You’re not sure if it’s nerves but it’s almost like you’ve forgotten how to kiss. The feeling of Charles’ lips against yours has caused all thoughts and logic to leave your body. You’re thankful that he takes the initiative once again and starts to move his lips against yours. You find your momentum again as your place one of your arms behind your head and place your hands on Charles’ cheek, your back still firmly pressed against his torso. As you continue to kiss, you notice that his crotch is still placed firmly against your ass, the bulge in his pants is slightly harder this time and it causes you to feel a slight tingle in your underwear.

As your kiss becomes more passionate, Charles turns you around so you’re face to face. He cups your cheeks with one of his hands, his thumb firmly under your chin and he reconnects your lips together. This time he slips his tongue into your mouth, and it begins to move against yours. The tingly sensation in your underwear is back again and it causes you to moan against Charles mouth. You can feel him smile against your lips, but it doesn’t stop him, it only encourages him to deepen this kiss even further. It’s like you’re the only two people in the room. Your body is tightly pressed against his, slowly tracing his chest with your fingers while Charles’ hands are covering as much body surface as possible. The hand that was cupping your cheek is now on your breast, his thumb grazing over the area where your nipple is. You’re not wearing a bra, so your nipple hardens at his touch, causing him to smile into your kiss once again. His other hand is very low on your back, his fingers spread across the top of your bum.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been kissing for, it could be thirty seconds or thirty minutes but you don’t want to stop. One of your hands finds its way into his silky brown hair and you tug on it lightly. In retaliation, he squeezes one your bum cheeks. This time you’re the one smiling against his lips.

After what feels like an eternity, you both part from the kiss. Your eyes meet his and it feels like you’re in a trance with him. All you can do is just look at him, only him. You’re not sure how long you’ve been standing like this, your hands on his chests, his on your waist. Once again, it’s Charles that takes the initiative but this time in conversation.

He leans down to your ear, your body lightly pressed against his. “Do you want to come back with me tonight?” He leans his head back slightly to gage your reaction. You quickly lick your lips. Your body is telling you to say yes – the tingle in your underwear is only getting bigger. But your head is pounding and you’re not able to open your mouth. The only thing you can do is move and so you move one of your hands from his chest up to Charles’ cheek, your thumb slow soothing the soft skin beneath you.

He's still waiting for an answer. His green eyes staring into yours.

As you finally muster up the courage to speak you feel you feel a strange hand placed on your shoulder. You jump slightly at the sudden touch of contact which clearly isn’t from Charles and turn your head into the direction it came from. Stephanie, the queen of impeccable timing, is smiling at you. She’s saying something to you but you’re not really paying attention.

Only until she starts waving your phone in front of your face do you realise what she’s saying. You thank her before taking your phone and looking at the screen.

It’s your husband. Out of all the nights he could have given you attention, it had to be tonight. You quickly look at your phone and see a missed call accompanied by three or four more unread texts. From a quick glance, you see he’s a bit concerned that you hadn’t responded to his previous message telling him what time you’d been home. He’d never usually ask so it’s a bit baffling to you why he’d suddenly care now. Then again, it’s the first “girls’ night” you’d gone out to in about two years. And you remembered the arguments you guys had been having for the past few weeks and the way you stormed out of the flat this morning.

And what you didn’t realise is that he had seen you pack one of your more revealing dresses in anger when you told him you were going out with Whitney and a few of her girlfriends tonight.

He was worried. Not about you. But about what you might be doing.

“Is everything okay?” Charles voice brings you back to reality and you look up at him for the first time since Stephanie had given you your phone. You hope he hasn’t seen you gulp but he has. He notices a flicker of hesitation in your eyes.

You nod and smile at him, but he’s not convinced. Your husband’s messages have brought you back to reality and your body language has become closed off. You’re no longer touching Charles. He removes his hands from your waist and you’re both left standing there awkwardly on the dancefloor.

You open your mouth to say something but at first nothing comes out. You let out a deep breath before you finally allow yourself to speak, “I can’t. I’m… I’m married, Charles.” He breaks eye contact with you and place his hands into his jean pockets. He’s nodding but doesn’t really say anything.

You both stand there awkwardly for a few moments before you speak again, “I think I need to go. I’m sorry, Charles”. You lean up to place a soft kiss on his cheek. His posture softens a little bit, but he’s disappointed.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. It sounds a little deflated and you can’t help but feel guilty. Moments before Stephanie had handed you your phone, you would have easily said yes to anything Charles would have asked you but now you find yourself in a weird mindset. You’re curious and you want to know what going home with him feels like, but your husbands’ messages are now imprinted in your brain. And so, you take the easier option which is to go home to your husband and be the loyal wife you’ve talked yourself into being for the last eighteen months.

“Have a good night, Charles,” you say softly before flashing a sympathetic smile. You turn away to leave the dancefloor when you feel Charles’ hand wrap around your arm. He tugs you back towards him and grabs your phone out of your hand. He gestures for you to put in your pin, and you oblige. He takes your phone once again and taps away on the keyboard before handing your phone back to you. You look at your screen to see he’s put his number into your phone.

“For whenever you need another “girls’ night”,” he whispers into your ear before letting you leave.

You quickly search for Whitney to let her know that you’re leaving before ordering an Uber home. As you hug Whitney goodbye, she leans in and whispers, “I hope you had fun tonight. I won’t say anything”. And you know she’s referring to the kiss that you’ve shared with Charles not so long ago. You thank her before making your way out of the club and getting into the Uber which arrives a few minutes later.

-

You rest your head against the window as you the Uber takes you through the busy London streets. You can’t help but feel disappointed with how your night ended and your mind flashes back to the look on Charles’ face when you told him you were leaving. A part of you wishing you had stayed.

You let out a little sigh and shut your eyes, pushing the image of Charles and the feeling of his lips against yours to the back of your head before opening your eyes again. Your phone lights up, catching your attention and you see a text from Whitney asking if you had made it home yet. You scroll down a little further on your notifications to see the unread text messages and missed calls from your husband.

You unlock your phone and start to type up your replies.

The first text.

Whitney: Just in the Uber now, be home in 20 x

The second text.

Lewis ♥: Staying at Whitney’s tonight. I’ll be home before noon tomorrow. Love you xx

You close your conversation with your husband and click on the + icon to open a new message. You let out another sigh before you begin typing the message.

To Charles: Hey, it’s [Y/N]. We didn’t get to finish our dance, mind if I come to yours? X

Your thumb hovers over the send button. You’ve typed your message, now all you have to do is send the it. Shit! You’re such a coward. You tell yourself that if you count to five you’ll send the message. Okay…

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

Sent.

You quickly lock your phone out of embarrassment and throw it onto the seat beside you. Shit, why did you just do that? You refuse to look at your phone and tell yourself it was a dumb idea to message Charles. You just need to get home, get to bed and pretend like it never happened.

It’s about fifteen or so minutes later and you’re only a few streets away from your apartment. You’ve told yourself not to look at your phone but at the same time you’re curious to see if Charles has responded.

You pick up your phone quickly and see a couple of texts.

First from Whitney:

Text me when you’re in. Love you! Thanks so much for a great night xxx

Then from your husband:

Okay, text me if you need me to pick you up in the morning. Night, love you x

But it’s the third message that piques your interest the most. From Charles:

You changed your mind? We’re on the way home now. Here’s my address if you’re still up for it? X

You can’t help but smile to yourself. As the Uber driver pulls up outside of your apartment building, you look up towards your apartment window, the curtains are closed but a flicker of light is breaking out from the lamp on inside. Knowing Lewis is awake prompts you to make your next decision and you hand your phone to the Uber driver.

“Sorry, I need to go to this address instead”.

The Uber drive grunts at you but he begrudgingly types in the new address before pulling off. You can’t help but smile to yourself as he drives away from your building , and you let out a little giggle as excitement starts to course through your body. That tingly sensation is back as you type your next text:

Charles: I’m on my way x

[highdefhoetry]

jjk men getting tickled

disclaimer: although this is pure fluff, the author is an adult & this is their kink. minors dni, do not reblog, do not like, do not follow.

"Stop, please! I can't take it!"

Gojo isn’t used to physical affection, or the sensation of touch in general. Due to his constant application of his cursed technique as a defense mechanism, he often goes weeks or months without experiencing the touch of another. Because of this, it takes a while for him to let his guard down around you. When you finally build enough trust, he releases his cursed technique and lets you get close. That’s when you learn how ticklish he is.

While you’re cuddling, you notice the way he flinches when you wrap your hands around his waist, how much his body quivers when you brush your fingers across his bare skin. You really don’t even have to try and tickle him - he’s just that sensitive. Caressing his cheek, kissing his neck, stroking his chest and stomach. All parts of him give the best reactions. He can’t hold back his frantic giggles or stop himself from squirming around, especially when given light tickles. Those weaken him more than harder ones.

His laugh is airy and melodic, almost like a song. It’s absolutely precious and makes you wanna tickle him even more so you can keep listening to the sweet sound of his voice as it reaches higher octaves. His smile is bright and joyful, jarringly different from that cocky all-knowing smirk he usually wears. He flails around like crazy, rolls from side to side trying to escape, tries to beg you to stop but can't get the words out since he's laughing too hard. Pink blush dusts his cheeks, and seeing how embarrassed he looks when you're done makes you fall a little more in a love with him.

Mostly he hates being tickled, but part of him can’t help but enjoy the attention. He’ll pretend to be grumpy afterwards, but that can be remedied with a big hug and plenty of kisses.

"Wait, nonono! Okay, okay, I give up!"

Geto is the king of “I’m not ticklish”. He swears it up and down, denies it when you ask, and goes out of his way to prove it by allowing you to try. He lets you discover this “fact” for yourself, smirking victoriously when you tickle his sides and underarms with no reactions. Even when you explore the rest of his body, testing out all of the usual spots, he remains unfazed. You start to feel discouraged when you look at his handsome face and see his pleasant, neutral expression has remained unchanged.

That is, unless you make a sneak attack. Later on, when he’s not paying attention, you creep up behind him and poke his sides, just to see what’ll happen. He lets out a shriek, yanks his arms down, but it’s too late. You’ve already seen the mask slip. You clamp your hands around his ribs, dig into them while he yells and tries to fight you off. That spot seems to be his worst.

His laughter is loud and booming, different from the one he makes when he’s cracking a joke or making fun. He starts begging almost instantly, tries to grab your hands to stop you, thrashes around in a desperate attempt to escape. When appeals to your mercy don't work, he starts making soft threats, says he’s gonna get you back good, but you can barely hear them through his spluttered laughter. When you finally stop, he pretends to be tuckered out, until you let your guard down. Then he pounces on you, pinning you down so he can give you a taste of your own medicine.

You pride yourself on what you've learned. It’s not that he isn’t ticklish. He’s just really good at hiding it!

"Please, no more..."

Choso is the king of tickle fights, being a big brother and all. He almost always wins, being ridiculously strong and somewhat of a sadistic ler, plus he protects himself well enough that it’s almost impossible to get at his ticklish spots when you’re in the moment. If you’re patient enough, however, you can get him good when he lets his guard down. And when you do, the tables quickly turn.

His laughter is deep, yet quiet. He doesn’t laugh loudly or erupt into fits of giggles, being able to control his vocal reactions better than most people, so most of the time it comes out as a soft snicker. But when he’s tickled, he smiles wider than you’ve ever seen and tries hiding it by clamping a hand over his mouth. That makes it easier for you to tickle him more, giving you an opening to get his underarms. He’s really weak to tickles there. He wiggles around like a worm, tries rolling up into a ball, and buries his face in his hands. Getting tickled makes him feel shy. If you tease him about how bashful he gets, his face will turn red and he’ll laugh even more.

He’ll half-heartedly beg you to stop, but not enough for you to take it seriously. You can tell he enjoys it for the most part - if he really wanted you to stop, he could easily overpower you. You wouldn’t dare tease him about it, though - you knew what would happen if you did.

"Enough...!"

Nanami is one of those people who truly isn’t that ticklish. Any attempts to tickle him are almost always met with a deep sigh and an annoyed grumble rather than laughs. He’s immune to pokes, prods, and surprise attacks, and his stony demeanor remains unchanged no matter where you touch him. You almost give up, until one day you start paying a bit more attention and realize how hard he’s trying to keep it together. Specifically when you lightly graze his sides or his lower back. 

You notice how hard he grits his teeth, how red his face gets, how tense his muscles become the more you tease and torment his waistline. The corners of his lips twitch up, yet he refuses to crack a smile. He’ll whisper to you in a stern voice, “Stop,” or warn you with a threatening “Enough”, but otherwise he’s pretty quiet. He controls his laughter pretty well, keeping up his stoic facade until you're finished.

When you finally let up, he acts irritated and complains about how your childishness always gets in the way of his work. But you can tell he’s a bit more relaxed, his shoulders less tense, his mood a bit lighter. Besides, if he really hated it so much, he would have simply put a stop to it. You’ll never get him to admit it, though!

"Fuck you!! Gahh, knock it off!"

Toji is surprisingly ticklish, and he really fucking hates it. He’s also great at hiding his reactions for the most part, but only for so long. He stifles his laughter when you claw at his ribs or dig under his arms, but keep it up for long enough and he’ll eventually crack. It’ll start as a quiet, rough giggle, then get louder and louder until he’s laughing his head off. He melts in your hand when you lightly spider his stomach, which ends up being his worst spot.

His laugh is just as scary as he is. He cackles wildly, thrashes around like an animal caught in a trap, spews out profanities and every swear word in the book. He’ll threaten to kill you, to break your fingers, all while giggling uncontrollably and attempting to fight you off. He won’t beg, ever, but you’ll hear the growing panic in his laughter the longer you tickle him. He’ll genuinely do whatever it takes to get away, so you have to be careful not to get hit by one of his flailing limbs. 

Tickling him will have dire consequences. He’ll get you back immediately, pin you down so tightly that you can’t move a muscle, then he’ll tickle you mercilessly until he’s satisfied with his revenge. It’s totally worth it, though. Seeing a giant, strong man like him taken down with tickles is oddly satisfying. 

"I don't recall telling you to stop."

Sukuna also isn’t particularly ticklish. He prides himself on having no weaknesses, being the strongest sorcerer in all of history. You didn’t dare instigate tickles with him; you didn’t have a death with, after all. You only touch him when he commands it.

However, he does seem to enjoy your light tickles from time to time, sometimes even demanding them. He loves when you run your nails up and down his back, purrs when you caress his neck and ears, lets out little content noises when you lightly stroke his chest. His “moods” are random and unpredictable; every now and then he’ll bark out an order for you out of the blue, demanding your soft touches. He doesn’t really laugh or giggle, but you do see goosebumps lining his skin whenever you give him this treatment. You love the way he sighs from your gentle touches; he just seems so relaxed. Not many people get to witness the soft side of Sukuna.

Of course, he’ll never confess how much he likes it. He won’t even say “tickle” or any variant, instead opting to dance around the word. It dawns on you much later why this is - it embarasses him. If anyone were to discover that the King of Curses enjoyed something so silly and cute, his ruthless persona would be destroyed. You know better than to spill his secrets, so you keep your mouth shut. But you can’t help but laugh to yourself every time he asks you for more.

[brackenfur]

okay so i kind of.......wrote a lot more than i really intended to, but long story short - years ago i had this headcanon/au of sorts that birchpaw/fall saw ashfur and hawkfrost at the lake together, standing over firestar. mostly because when you squint at that whole sequence it kinda doesnt add up in canon, but its not canon that birchfall saw anything - it's just me taking this what if scenario and expanding on a side character

anyways this was kinda a quick project so its not perfect buuuuuut i wrote something so ! enjoy :)

birchpaw is back at camp doing everything he can to avoid the worried looks of his clanmates when his mentor stops him.

"hey, birchpaw," the fur on the back of birchpaw's neck stands up, and he slowly turns to the other tomcat. "are you okay?"

birchpaw does the best he can to keep the nervousness out of his voice as he answers: "i'm fine, ashfur. really. i- uh, i mean, i really just wish i had...been faster, that i had..."

he can't look at ashfur's face. not now, maybe not ever again. he knows that as soon as he meets his eyes, he won't be able to stop asking questions:

what were you doing with a riverclan cat? why didn't you help firestar? did the other cat threaten you? did you-

"you did the best you could, birchpaw," ashfur tells him gently; he pauses, flicking his tail-tip, before murmuring: "come on, let's go over to the apprentice's den to talk. i can tell you're shaken up."

and you're not, birchpaw wants to say, but he's a coward. this is his uncle, his mother's twin, and he doesn't really know what he saw, anyways. maybe ashfur had been standing there, sure. and maybe firestar had been clearly injured, clearly dying - well, ashfur isn't a medicine cat. he couldn't have known that, even if birchpaw had been making a lucky guess. but maybe hawkfrost threatened him, or maybe he lied to him-

you don't believe that at all, he thinks.

but he follows his uncle all the same to the apprentice's den; whitepaw is comforting her father at the medicine cat den while leafpool treats firestar's wound. no one is around - they're all either out searching the territory to make sure hawkfrost didn't have any accomplices, or with firestar's family on the other side of camp.

"you did the best you could to get help as soon as possible, birchpaw," ashfur tells him softly; birchpaw is staring at the grass between his paws, not looking at the other tom. "everyone knows that. i'm sure firestar does, too."

"right."

"but i could scent your fear-scent," ashfur continues, "and it does seem like you didn't go straight back to camp after telling firestar about blackstar. why?"

birchpaw's whiskers quiver. he shouldn't be scared - if anything, ashfur should be worried. he's the one who didn't do enough to help.

but the look in ashfur's eyes. the blank, distant stare as he watched firestar gurgle at his paws.

even the badgers didn't look at sootfur like that after they killed him, birchpaw remembers.

"i....," birchpaw's voice wobbles. "i thought i scented another cat, and i was worried," he clears his throat, trying to stop the shakes, "about you. i thought- i thought maybe you were...in trouble, and i...."

ashfur is quiet for a long time; if birchpaw wasn't so scared - why should i be scared? he's my uncle and my mentor, he wouldn't....he'd never.... - he'd look up, joke with him. pretend like it's all a big joke.

but those eyes. that look. the sounds firestar was making.

"so you didn't go straight back to camp," ashfur says with a disappointed sigh, "and firestar lost a life."

birchpaw's heartbeat skips. his paws shake. "wait," he says, his voice becoming shrill. he doesn't want anyone else to hear, but- what ashfur's saying, it's not...that's not right. that's not how it went. "wait, i- i did go back, as fast as i could, and i told squirrelflight-"

"you waited to tell her, you mean," ashfur tells him, frowning. "and he lost a life because he lost too much blood."

"but i didn't....i'd never..."

"it probably wasn't your intention," ashfur murmurs. "but that's how it happened. what if it was his last life? firestar and i trusted you to do one simple task, and you couldn't do that. you can't even look your uncle in the eye when he's talking to you."

birchpaw quivers as he slowly lifts his eyes to look into his uncles. ashfur's dark blue eyes stare back at him, just as emotionless as they did hours before.

"that's better," ashfur tells him, but it doesn't feel better. all of this is wrong.

"i was just trying to help," birchpaw whispers. "i didn't....i saw..."

"what did you see?" ashfur asks him, with a tone that birchpaw's never heard him use before: it's low, angry.

it's terrifying.

"um," birchpaw stutters. "i don't- i don't know. i don't know what i saw."

i saw you. i saw you and hawkfrost.

"if you don't even know what you saw," ashfur says slowly, "then maybe you shouldn't say anything. not to me, or to your mother. not to firestar."

birchpaw slowly lowers his gaze. how did today end up like this?

"you didn't see anything out there, birchpaw," ashfur continues. "you're an apprentice - you don't know your left paw from your right paw."

"okay."

ashfur stares at him for a long moment, sighing. "i'm not trying to scare you, birchpaw," he murmurs, "but i don't want you to get in trouble for firestar losing his life. sometimes we make mistakes; i don't want this one to be the defining moment of your apprenticehood."

shame burns through birchpaw - shame that he can't stand up to his uncle and tell him that this is all wrong.

but more shame that there's a part of him, deep down, that knows ashfur is right. if birchpaw had been quick enough, firestar wouldn't have lost a life. hawkfrost would've been stopped quicker.

and maybe....maybe ashfur was just trying to help firestar. maybe in some way, he's embarrassed because he couldn't help him, either. is that what this is about? trying to save face, because brambleclaw once again saved the day when ashfur couldn't?

"i want to be a good apprentice."

"and i'll help you do that," ashfur tells him, his voice becoming warmer. "and we'll start by making sure that today stays behind us, forever. okay?"

"okay."

it doesn't feel okay.

--

the rest of his apprenticeship goes by largely uneventfully. ashfur isn't exactly the same as before he and squirrelflight drifted apart, but he never speaks to birchpaw the way that he did the day firestar was injured.

he becomes a warrior by the name of birchfall. he makes friends, falls into an easy routine. he even still spends time with his uncle - with each passing day, the events from that afternoon become a faded memory. sometimes it plays out differently in his mind - there's days where he thinks he did see ashfur try and help firestar. where he heard him tell hawkfrost to go away.

(and maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought it was back then if the memory keeps changing. if it really was so awful, wouldn't it be the same? was he just trying to make ashfur out to be a bad cat?)

everything in thunderclan is mostly calm, until ashfur gets lionpaw as an apprentice.

he's heard cats joke about being jealous when their old mentor gets another apprentice - how it's weird, seeing the cat who taught you everything teaching someone else the same things, telling the same jokes.

he's still ashfur's nephew, so he knows that his former mentor still holds a special place in his heart for him - but it's not exactly that jealousy that other cats talk about that he feels towards lionpaw.

he feels...strange, seeing them together; there's this weird fluttering feeling he gets when he catches ashfur's expression as lionpaw walks away from him.

sometimes he can hear a voice in the back of his mind, screaming at him to go and get between the two of them. to protect lionpaw.

but ashfur....well, it's ashfur. outside of that one afternoon moons before, he's a normal warrior. he wouldn't...

so birchfall does what he did over a year prior; he buries the feelings. he can't trust his eyes - that's what ashfur told him before. he doesn't know his left paw from his right paw.

(except that he's a warrior now, and a damn good one, so why-)

that changes one day, when the talk of thunderclan is how lionpaw and ashfur got into this huge fight - claws drawn, teeth bared. ashfur scratched up pretty badly, spiderleg had told him, shaking his head.

i knew that was going to happen, he's not a medicine cat or particularly gifted, but he knew. he knew, he knew, he knew, he knew.

i knew he was going to hurt him, birchfall watches as lionpaw trudges into camp, surprisingly fine physcially - ashfur is the one with the injuries, blood dripping on the camp floor as he trudges to leafpool's den.

lionpaw is standing there after all is said and done, after cats talk to him to ask him if he's okay. standing there in the center of camp, alone.

birchfall is only foxlengths from him, watching, and the thought slips into his mind easily: i should tell him that i know what ashfur is really like. that i saw the same look in his eyes that he probably saw. that he watched firestar die inches from his paws and did nothing to help him.

he almost does it, too. the memories from that day come back, flooding his vision - ashfur's dark expression. the white flash of hawkfrost's teeth. firestar's gurgles.

i'm so sorry, firestar.

"why are you staring at me?"

birchfall snaps out of it quickly; lionpaw is staring at him, amber eyes narrowed.

"what?" birchfall blinks. "i wasn't staring at you."

"yeah, you were," lionpaw tells him, shaking his head. "weirdo." lionpaw hisses under his breath.

and before birchfall can say anything, do anything, hollypaw and cinderpaw bound up to him to talk to him, stealing the moment away.

birchfall watches the apprentices for a couple more seconds before he turns away.

he didn't see anything that day. it's his fault that firestar lost a life, anyways. that's all anyone would be able to see - firestar is one pawstep closer to being gone forever because of him.

--

birchfall keeps his word for the moons to come; lionblaze becomes a warrior with hollyleaf and cinderheart. whitewing - his longest friend, the molly who withheld her warrior ceremony for him, just so he wouldn't be alone,

(and was there for him on the nights when all he dreamt of was the lakeshore, never asking him what woke him up shaking)

well, they become closer and closer until they're not really just friends anymore, and one morning she bounds up to him to tell him that she's carrying his kits. that leafpool had just told her moments before, and she couldn't wait to find him.

and it finally feels like maybe birchfall is at peace - maybe starclan isn't angry with him after all. maybe that one thing that birchfall didn't do years ago - it'll be okay. firestar is alive and happy, with grandchildren now.

the fire rages through thunderclan not long after, but thankfully there's no casualities - he grew up hearing the stories of the one from years ago, back in the old territory before he was born, and he's glad that everyone was okay this time.

well.

he heard berrynose say that everyone had been looking for squirrelflight, her kits, and ashfur for awhile - that ashfur had turned up, laughing. he wouldn't say what was so funny, though.

he didn't think much of it, until he saw the way ashfur was acting after the fire. the way he leered after squirrelflight and her kits; hollyleaf's eyes glaring back in defiance, lionblaze's hackles raised, jayfeather's avoidance.

i don't want any part in this, he thinks, focusing on whitewing and their future together. i didn't see anything. i don't know anything. ashfur isn't dangerous.

he repeats the mantra more often than he'd like; at night, he dreams of the lakeshore for the first time in years and wakes up shuddering against spiderleg's side. his older brother shakes him off, confused, but birchfall can't meet his gaze, or anyone elses.

i didn't see anything. i didn't see anything. i didn't-

and then just like that, one day ashfur is found dead on their territory.

someone said that a patrol found him in a river, throat torn out.

it doesn't feel real to birchfall until he sees his uncles body laid out in the center of camp, with ferncloud's muzzle pressed into his fur.

that's my uncle, he thinks as he watches spiderleg lead icepaw and foxpaw to their mother, trying to comfort her. he was my mentor.

you don't know what you saw. it's ashfur's voice, clear as day in his mind as he watches his clanmates gather around the tomcat. you don't know your left paw from your right paw. you're just an apprentice; how can anyone trust you after what you did?

firestar walks over to ferncloud and dustpelt, murmuring a few kind words to them. birchfall can hear his leader's voice carrying over the wind, mentioning something about dogs, about bravery.

he watched you lose a life, birchfall wants to scream, but he can't move. he stood there and watched you gargle for breath and did nothing.

birchfall shuts his eyes. no. no, it was because of me, because i decided to take too long to go back to camp, his mind can't decide what's right or wrong. it's my fault, that's what....that's what ashfur says, and...and now he's dead, so....

"birchfall," whitewing's voice is soft; he jolts, eyes wide as he looks at his mate. she leans against him, whiskers drooping. "this is so sad. i mean....ashfur, i just- i just talked to him yesterday. he was asking me about the kits, if i was feeling okay..."

you wouldn't want to be with me if you knew what i did, ashfur had never threatened him after that day, but birchfall knew that was what his uncle was conveying to him every time they talked after that day. that he could tell everyone, and everyone would know it was birchfall's fault that firestar lost a life.

or....or wait, maybe that wasn't right. not anymore.

maybe he should blame himself for not saying anything all these years. he could've told firestar and had ashfur punished, and he didn't.

the realization burns deep in his chest; he can barely register what whitewing is saying.

ashfur knew that if you said something, any cat could probably figure out that something about his story didn't add up, birchfall thinks, his heart thudding. and you were just too stupid to realize you could have said something years ago.

"birchfall?" whitewing says, frowning. "hey, birchfall. are you okay?"

birchfall's fur raises. "i'm okay," he tells her, taking a deep breath. "all things....you know, considering, i..." he shakes his head. "i'm gonna get some air, okay?"

whitewing touches her nose to his. "i'm here, you know that, right? i've been here for you since we were 'paws."

that stings more. i could have told you years ago, birchfall touches his nose back to hers, and turns away. i can't say anything now. she'd never trust me again, i kept this secret from everyone because i was too scared of my uncle. and now he's dead, and now....

birchfall resigns himself not to think about it anymore. he can't.

he can't. he won't.

--

after his daughters are born, birchfall wants this to be his new purpose in life.

forget about the lakeshore. the foxtrap. hawkfrost. ashfur. firestar is fine now; thunderclan is fine. sure, maybe there's been some earth-shattering secrets that have been revealed, but- all in all, they're mostly fine.

ivypaw and dovepaw mean the world to him; he can't imagine being without them.

he looks at them and wants to do right by them; they'll never know the fear he's carried for all this time, the same.

he'll teach them to say something if they see something; to be outspoken, brave.

but he can barely keep his head above water; it started when he met a cat from the dark forest one night. who promised him that he could make up for the mistake he made years ago; that he could do right by firestar. by thunderclan.

he trains every night but it doesn't make the shame go away. it won't scrub off after he bathes himself. nothing works.

it's not until the wall is lifted over his eyes - after his daughter, ivypool, a warrior grown - tells him what the true intention of the dark forest was.

all the moons he spent there, training, trying to prove that he could make up for what he did - gone.

and after the battle with the dark forest, both his mother and firestar are dead - killed by the cats that birchfall wanted to impress. wanted to show that he could be better, that he could be stronger.

how did everything go so wrong? he thinks as he watches his father crouched over his mother. dustpelt won't even look at him; he doesn't know about firestar, but he knows about the dark forest. and he hates him - despises him for training with the cats who are responsible for ferncloud's death.

he's right.

"birchfall," whitewing's voice jolts him out of his thoughts. "please. i want to talk."

it was inevitable - he knows that it's over between them at this point. he follows her out of camp regardless, deep into the territory. there's birds in the trees, chirping quietly amongst themselves, and everything is in bloom, yet nothing is beautiful to him at this moment.

whitewing turns to face him, her green eyes sad. "can you just tell me why?"

birchfal looks down at his paws, just like he did years before when ashfur told him to keep quiet.

"i'm sorry," he tells her, and she scoffs.

"i'm sorry isn't an explanation," she meows. "just....why, birchfall? why would you train with cats like that? and why- our daughter was there too, why wouldn't you try and convince her not to? what's wrong with you?"

i'm a coward.

"that's still not an answer," he hadn't realized he said it aloud. he finally looks up at his mate - probably soon to be ex-mate. "you need to talk to me. you're not a 'paw anymore."

and for some reason that burns more than anything else.

you're not a 'paw. you should have said something. you should have told everyone what you saw. and you didn't. it's your fault. all your fault. everything-

"i need to tell you something," he finally says; the story is bubbling at the surface. ashfur is long dead. firestar is dead. his family hates him. whitewing is going to leave him anyway; what else does he have to lose? brambleclaw might exile him, might not; he might not care what birchfall does.

whitewing is silent; birchfall opens and shuts his mouth a few times, trying to find the words, until he meows:

"i saw what happened to firestar on the lakeshore, that day when hawkfrost from riverclan died."

whitewing frowns; she looks taken aback, and blinks a few times.

"i....ashfur...he told me that he scented blackstar on our territory," the memory comes back hazy at first, but starts to clear as he goes on: "he said to tell firestar about it. i did, but....a few minutes later when i was heading back, i could scent another cat. and i remembered ashfur was out there, and i was worried for him, so i followed him and the other cat so i could protect him. and..."

the gurgling. the look on ashfur's eyes. the sound of the water lapping at the shore.

"ashfur was standing with hawkfrost over firestar's body. he was caught in the foxtrap and....ashfur, he...." birchfall shuts his eyes. "you should've seen how he looked. he didn't care at all that firestar was dying. i ran away, i didn't....i didn't know what to do. i thought maybe i didn't see anything at all, so i just told squirrelflight what ashfur had said about blackstar when i saw her. i thought....i thought maybe if she caught ashfur and hawkfrost, it'd....she'd know what to do, more than i would....."

birchfall stares at his paws. "when i got back to camp and brambleclaw had killed hawkfrost, ashfur told me....he said i didn't see anything, and it was easier to pretend i didn't see anything. and he was...he was right - i should've just gone back to camp right away. i should've just done the right thing, not been a stupid 'paw. i should've...it's my fault that firestar lost a life. he'd still be here right now if i just had listened back then, 'cus he'd have an extra life, and..."

birchfall trails off, shaking. "so that's...that's why i wanted to train at the dark forest. because i let firestar down. because i didn't say anything all these years, and i should've....i mean, what if ashfur had hurt someone else? and i just sat there and let it happen."

it takes him a moment after everything spills out to realize that whitewing is very quiet; he finally looks up at his mate.

she looks so sad watching him; and there's a bit of anger in there, too.

"he threatened you?" whitewing finally says; birchfall winces.

"i don't....maybe, it doesn't really matter."

"you were his apprentice and his nephew," whitewing tells him firmly. "of course it matters. he knew he was manipulating you, and that you just wanted to please him, so you'd do anything to make sure you wouldn't make trouble."

whitewing's tail lashes, and she shakes his head. "that- i can't believe he did that to you, that he made you think...."

"whitewing, it's-"

"it's not your fault, birchfall," her voice is gentle, yet he can tell she's holding back so much rage, rage for ashfur, pain for firestar's death. "if you really think for one second that you have anything to do with firestar laying in that clearing right now, you're completely wrong. that was tigerstar, first of all, and ashfur's fault years ago."

"but-"

"you went to help your mentor, and you were intimidated into keeping this a secret," she tells him, stepping closer. "and now you think that because you didn't say anything, that that's worse than what he did."

"i should have said something," birchfall tells her, harsher than he means to. "i mean - for starclan's sake, whitewing, i- i saw, and i didn't do anything. i'm no better than he is-"

"you are twice the cat that ashfur was," whitewing meows firmly. "and if i had even....if i saw him right now, i'd slash his ears for doing that to you."

whitewing shakes her head, looking at him. "all these years," she whispers, frowning, "all these years, and we- when you were in the apprentices den, having nightmares..."

"you couldn't have known," he mumbles. "i didn't tell you."

"and then....birchfall, i..." she presses her noses into his neck; birchfall is stiff from shock.

"i thought you were breaking up with me," he tells her, aghast; whitewing sucks in a breath, pulling away.

"what?"

"why not? after the dark forest, all of this...."

"i'm disappointed in you for training with the dark forest," she tells him softly. "but your mother is dead, and you....you've been holding this in for years, birchfall. i can put off asking you about the dark forest for awhile; i.....i didn't know. all these years, and i had no idea you were punishing yourself for ashfur's crimes."

when she puts it like that, a small - a tiny one, really, nothing huge - light begins to flick in his mind.

i've been punishing myself, he thinks, and it strangely makes a lot of sense - thinking about the lake all these years has felt like punishment. refusing to get close to firestar out of shame was his way of punishing himself, telling himself what he did was wrong.

"i don't know if i can tell anyone else," birchfall tells her in a whisper; whitewing nods, brushing her muzzle against his.

"that's okay," she meows, "because now i know, and now i can shoulder it with you."

"it's not a very romantic secret." he doesn't say it like a joke, but she still smiles a little.

"it's not," she shrugs. "but no one helped birchpaw back then; i'm here for you now."

[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter Six

Summary:

Astarion surprises you with a night at the theatre that doesn't go quite according to your plan.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4.7k Tags/Warnings: rough/angry sex, hair pulling, emotional manipulation, dubcon, bad BDSM practices, angst, daddy kink, reminiscent of Ascended!Astarion, discussions of domestic abuse (in Taming of the Shrew)

Hi. Hello. My sweets. My darlings. This is it. The chapter where you absolutely must mind the tags. Just know that I won't take you anywhere that we won't be able to come back from. Know that I, too, am an absolute baby when it comes to intense subject matter in fics. But I want you to take care of yourselves and your hearts. As always, shoot me a message if you'd like more specifics.

Photo credits: Zaria for Green Pussy Suit Astarion and Nephi Garcia for the incredible dress.

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

“In the library? Babes, are you insane?” Shadowheart's voice reaches a pitch you’re fairly sure only dogs can hear. You curl your knees into your chest and cover your face in your hands, feeling the exact appropriate amount of shame.

“I know, I know. All logic goes out the fucking window around him. All I can think is ‘mm, good dick makes brain go brr.’” You let out a frustrated sigh into your hands.

“Do you want to get fired?” She pulls your hand from your face so you can't hide from her pointed stare.

“Oh trust me, I ran about forty different scenarios of that happening through my head on the drive home.”

“Did you, now? And in how many of these did he also get fired?” Shadowheart presses, knowing how your anxiety can get out of hand.

“Like, two,” you groan and drop your head back onto the couch cushions. “I don't know what comes over me. I feel like I can't tell him no.”

“Wait, wait.” Shadowheart grips your knee, suddenly worried. “You can't tell him no as in it feels too good to stop? Or as in it doesn't feel safe to say no?”

“Nine hells, no, the first one!” you respond, horrified. She squints at you and you squirm under her gaze until you’re finally more truthful, both with her and yourself. “Well, I mean, mostly. Like it's not like that. But like also not not like that, you know?”

“I can assure you I do not,” she says in a flat voice, not interested in joking around. You sigh dramatically, trying to find the right words to describe how you feel.

“Like. Okay. Am I fully consenting to everything we do? Yes. 100%. Oh gods, yes.” Your cheeks tinge pink even thinking about it. “But like… am I going against my best judgment? Do I feel like I should say no? Does part of me kinda wish I would say no? Like… maybe?”

“Tav, that's not okay. You need to talk to him about this.” Shadowheart’s voice is soft with genuine worry. Which is ridiculous, because she’s focusing on the wrong thing.

“No, see, that's the thing. It's not actually a him issue, it's a me issue. Like there's something wrong with me, I see his most toxic traits and suddenly I'm like a horny teenager!” Your voice increases in pitch as you grow more hysterical. “How am I supposed to call him out on it when the only words that will come out of my mouth are ‘yes daddy, more please’?”

“Is there anything redeemable about him at all? Besides being good in bed?” She leans back, taking a sip of her wine and fixing you with an incredulous look. 

“I mean… yeah. He’s witty, and bantering back and forth with him is fun. He’s incredibly smart, as loath as I am to admit it, and I like hearing his ideas on things, especially his interpretation of Shakespeare’s text.” You don't even notice the smile growing on your face, but Shadowheart does. “And he’s got this unexpectedly soft side. Like he seems cold and aloof on the outside, but he cares, deeply. About his students, about his cat, about-”

“About you?” she interjects, and your smile falters.

“I don't know, Shade,” you say quietly, almost ashamed to look her in the eye. “I think so. I hope so. But it's not like we've been seeing each other for that long, he’s under no obligation to feel anything.” You practically swallow the last sentence, a truth you're reticent to voice. 

“And you?” she asks softly.

“Man, I don't fucking know. I just want to keep getting laid and not catch feelings, is that so much to ask?” you whine. She laughs, but you can tell that she's only humoring you.

“For you? Probably.”

***

It's been several days and your busy schedules have kept you and Astarion apart for most of it. Save the occasional tension-filled passing in the hall, you've barely interacted at all. You're almost beginning to believe that your whirlwind affair has come to an end when you find a mystery package at your apartment door.

It's made out to you with no discernable return address. You bring the box into your apartment while examining it, trying to ascertain its origin. It doesn't even really look like it was sent through the mail, it looks like it was dropped off.

You take out your phone and call down to the front desk. It rings a few times, then a somber voice answers.

“What dost thou require?” His voice is deep and crackled, like some ancient eternal being.

“Hi Withers, it's Tav in 3C. Do you know anything about this package that was left at my door?”

“I have inspected it, and determined it safe for you to open. It was brought by someone claiming to be a friend.”

“Can you tell me anything about this someone?”

“No.”

And the line goes dead. You laugh and shake your head. If Withers says it's safe, then it probably is. You’d trust that wrinkly old man with your life, honestly. You cut open the tape sealing the box shut and lift off the top.

Inside is something wrapped in tissue paper with a note stuck to it in Astarion's immaculate handwriting. 

Tomorrow evening The Rosewood Seven o’clock Wear nothing underneath

You let out a small involuntary moan when you read the last three words. You carefully unwrap the tissue paper to find a fabric that looks like it's made of starlight. You pull out the midnight black dress and go slightly breathless when you get a good look at it. 

It’s a backless dress with a sweetheart neckline and intricate gold embellishments that almost make it look like armor. It has a lavish gold neck piece attached by several gold chains that drip over the skin. The skirt is made of a weightless black fabric that shimmers with gold as you move it in the light. It almost appears to be cut into two panels with dual hip-high slits.

With a dress cut like this, you wouldn't be able to wear undergarments even if you wanted to.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you think about what he might have in store for you. You're not even sure what's running at the Rosewood right now, but it could be complete trash and you wouldn't even care. You probably won't even be able to pay attention, too distracted by Astarion sitting next to you for two hours.

You feel a pulsing between your legs at the thought. You think of his hand sliding up your knee while you struggle to keep a straight face. Or him reaching an arm around you, gently sliding his fingers into your hair before giving it a sharp tug.

Another moan works its way out of your throat and you follow it up with an annoyed groan. You can really get swept up at the most inconvenient times. It’s not like you don’t have any work you need to do or anything. You roll your eyes as you stalk off to draw a bath.

***

Waiting in the lobby of the theater, you’re feeling surprisingly nervous. The dress, though beautiful, is not particularly comfortable. With all of its various chains and pieces, you needed Shadowheart’s help just to put it on. It helps that she’s also incredibly talented when it comes to hair and makeup, so in truth you feel positively glamorous. 

When you see Astarion, however, everything goes silent. You’re certain that he’s posing for you the way he’s stopped to adjust his cuff. The cut of the suit he’s wearing is exceptionally flattering and you imagine running your hands all over the emerald velvet. His crisp white button down is almost sheer and you desperately want to pull him into you by that forest green silk tie. 

But you can’t tear your eyes away from his face. This is the first time you've seen him wear makeup, and the simple smokey eyeliner look makes his red irises pop. He’s decided to forgo his glasses, presumably opting for contacts instead to show off the makeup. He’s also swapped out his standard silver hoops for little daggers with a red rhinestone glimmering at the hilt. 

He looks up at you the moment you lay eyes on him, or more specifically, the moment your heart starts to beat out of your chest. He flashes you a devastating smile before striding up to you and pulling you into a deep kiss. You can’t even be bothered to care that the other patrons are probably staring as he slides his hand onto your bare lower back, his cool touch sending a shiver up your spine.

He pulls away from you just enough to breathlessly ask, “Are you ready to sit down?”

“Huh?” You’re distracted, too busy plotting a mental path to the bathrooms to fuck him. He lets out a winded chuckle.

“The play. House is open, would you care to find our seats?” His palm is still pressed against your back and you can barely form coherent thoughts. You still don’t even know what play you’re here to see. You just want—no, need—to be near him.

“Um, yeah,” you respond, still trying to get your bearings and remind yourself how to be a person. You let him lead you into the theater, and only once you're in your seats do you realize that neither of you grabbed a program. You pull out your phone to see if you can look it up, but service in the Rosewood is notoriously bad. Instead you just need to sit still next to Astarion, who looks like a dream and smells even better. 

He glances at you as your heart quickens again and his lips curl into a smile. He slips his hand behind your neck and lightly runs his finger along the seam between the golden collar of the dress and your flesh, sending goosebumps down your arms. He leans toward you until his lips are almost brushing your ear. 

“You look absolutely ravishing, my dear,” he whispers, his breath tickling your earlobe. You turn your face toward him on instinct, your chest heaving as you try to steady your breathing. Your lips hover inches apart, anticipating the kiss, when suddenly a throng of noisy actors come barreling down the aisles. You snap away from Astarion as the cacophony of their shrieks of laughter, calls across the audience to one another, and drunken banter fill the house.

One of them clambors onto the stage and shouts, “For God’s sake, a pot of small ale!” He’s dressed in rags and appears by far to be the drunkest of them all. Three servingmen swarm him with various shouts of, “Will’t please your honor?” He shoves them all away and proudly takes up space center stage.

“I am Christophero Sly! Call not me ‘Honor’ nor ‘Lordship,’” he bellows as the rest of the players make their way onto the stage.

Christopher Sly… you’re wracking your brain to remember which play he serves as a framing device for. Most productions cut this scene because it’s long and completely irrelevant. You just can’t for the life of you remember which play he appears in.

The scene continues with their drunken antics and slapstick comedy as the players address Sly as “my noble lord,” making him believe he’s a king that they’re about to perform for. Eventually they carry Sly out on a makeshift palanquin as the “play within the play” begins. Two handsome young men in preppy clothes enter, holding a book and wearing glasses that aren’t too dissimilar from Astarion’s round metal ones. The one without the glasses speaks first.

“Tranio, since for the great desire I had to see fair Padua…”

Tranio? Isn’t he one of the characters in Taming of the Shrew?

He knows you don’t like this play.

Well, if it’s all that’s playing at the Rosewood right now…

But if that’s the case why not just, like, see a movie?

You shift uncomfortably in your dress and cast your gaze towards Astarion. He smiles, taking your fingers and placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles before turning back to the stage. He keeps your hand in his, absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. 

You can feel your heart pounding in your ears and you find yourself wondering what’s running through his head. Just when you think you have him figured out, he does something to surprise you. And honestly, not always in a good way.

Maybe it won’t be so bad. You know the creative team at the Rosewood wouldn’t pick this show if they weren’t going to try to do something with it. 

But even still… is this text even redeemable?

You sit through the entirety of the show cringing as the audience around you laughs at flagrant displays of domestic abuse. The actors, several of whom you’ve worked with before, are trying their hardest to make the lines playful, but some things just can’t be recovered. Between the forced starvation, physical intimidation, and gaslighting, you wonder why companies even bother performing this play anymore. No matter how witty the writing is, it’s just too out of date to be a good season choice.

When the time comes for Kate’s final monologue, you watch in pain as the actress tries to wink-wink-nudge-nudge her way through lines like “place your hands below your husband’s foot.” She’s young, and you wonder if this is one of her first professional gigs. You get a little sad knowing that she’s probably just desperate to do anything, even if it’s trash.

Maybe you’re being a little harsh. All of the individual elements of the show—the acting, set, costumes, direction, lighting—were quite good. You just can’t get over how irredeemable this text is. Worth teaching, yes, and maybe even taking Act II out of context just for the fun banter and clever wordplay. But professional theatre companies should really just retire this one.

In the Lyft back to your apartment, you decide to get Astarion’s take on the matter.

“Do you think it’s possible to redeem a text like Taming in a modern age?”

He pauses for a moment, continuing to look away from you and out the window.

“I do, yes,” he finally answers. “I think it takes a skilled hand, but it can be successful when done well.”

You sit on his response, chewing it over. You decide to take a different route.

“I guess a better question is do you think it’s worth trying to? Like, what are we getting out of it anymore?”

“Is entertainment not enough?” he says with a laugh. You wrinkle your nose at him.

“Sure, if you’re a basic ass bitch. But I want my art to mean something. And I can’t think of what this play can possibly mean if it’s not ‘shrill women are annoying and should learn their place.’” You cross and uncross your legs, trying to keep yourself decent.

“Last I checked, you enjoy being put in your place,” he says in a low hum and your pussy betrays you with a clench. 

“Shut up,” you grumble, and you’re grateful that the dark car hides your reddening cheeks. “It’s different.”

“Is it, though? Ultimately it is a text about two dysfunctional people finding comfort in one another.” His sincerity catches you off guard, and almost makes you angry that he’s been taken in by the propaganda.

“That’s only a valid interpretation if you ignore half of what happens in the play. They’re not equally dysfunctional, Kate literally gets beaten into submission and pretends to be happy about it. Petruchio is exactly the same from the start to the finish, he has no fucking character arc.” Your hands start to shake as you try to keep your cool. You’ve had this conversation far too many times with men who think they can interpret out the sexism by simply glossing over Kate’s abuse.

The Lyft stops in front of your building and you thank the driver as you get out. Astarion follows you, and you’re not even sure if you want him to accompany you upstairs. But you remain silent as you walk past Withers and into the elevator.

“You’re overreacting,” Astarion says once the elevator doors close. “People are drawn to this play for a reason. The text is excellent, and no one truly thinks of Petruchio as an abuser.”

“Are you joking?” Your voice gets shrill and the similarity to Kate isn’t lost on you. “The whole thing normalizes his abuse. The fact that people don’t think of him as an abuser is the problem.”

“It’s a slapstick comedy,” he snaps, his voice growing stern. “Are you going to tell me that we need to cancel the Three Stooges because it promotes violence?”

“Don’t be fucking condescending,” you spit. “It’s not the same and you know it.”

“How is it not the same? Suddenly because it’s a woman in the role it no longer counts? Are you implying that women should be barred from certain types of performance because of their gender?” He walks past you into your apartment and you throw your keys and bag on the counter, not even bothering to see where they land.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying, now you’re just twisting my words,” you grumble, more frustrated than ever by your inability to match his eloquence.

“So use your own words,” he sneers, whirling around to face you. “How is it not the same?”

“It’s because- well, I- It’s different, just- argh!” Your head is clouded by your attraction to him, which has annoyingly only grown over the past few minutes of shouting. You’re suddenly reminded of the smug arrogant bastard that you first met. He lets out a jeering laugh.

“See? You can’t even defend your own point.” 

His sardonic cruelty sets something off in you and you angrily grab the lapel of his green suit. Your intentions are a complete mystery even to you, because as soon as you’re within inches of one another, instincts take over. You crush his lips into yours and pull him backwards until you thump against the door behind you. He paws hungrily at the dress, sliding his hand under the slit and around to grab your bare ass. You gasp into his touch, feeling equally frustrated and aroused that he even controlled what you wore tonight.

Your fingers make their way into his hair and you pull hard, breaking the kiss and leaving his mouth open, panting. His eyes are sparkling with a fire that you haven’t seen yet and a low growl manifests in your throat. He smirks and buries his teeth into your shoulder, something he usually asks bespoke permission for. You cry out in response, twisting your hands tighter into his silvery locks.

He unlatches from your shoulder and pushes his knee past the front of your skirt and up onto your bare cunt. You grind wantonly against the velvet as he kisses you with bloody lips. He grabs hold of the delicate chains of the dress and yanks, detaching them from the collar and making the entire bodice crumple and pool around your waist. Your nipples immediately harden at the sudden exposure to cold air and he pinches one sharply between his fingers. Your hips roll into his leg as you groan, fully ruining his pants. He continues to bite around your neck and shoulders, placing little puncture wounds in his path, marking you as his.

You grab onto his tie and push him away so you can shimmy out of the rest of the dress. You’re now down to just the gold collar of the dress and your heels, a look you wish you could hate but don’t. You pull him across your living area and toward your bedroom, shoving him down onto the edge of the bed. 

“Thou hast hit it, come, sit on me,” he says, quoting Petruchio with a sinister grin. Kate’s retort falls out of your mouth reflexively.

“Asses are made to bear, and so are you,” you hiss as you straddle his hips, wrapping his tie around your hand until you’ve gripped it up to the knot. Your other hand violently unbuckles his belt, yanking it through the loops with a snap.

“Women are made to bear, and so are you,” he says with a caustic laugh, digging his nails into your ass cheeks. You tug sharply on his tie, bringing his lips close to yours.

“No such jade as you, if me you mean,” you snarl and silence him with an angry kiss. You don’t want to encourage his idiotic behavior, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said this wasn’t a fantasy you’ve had before. You fumble with the buttons of his suit jacket, trying to get him undressed as quickly as possible. You’re not sure if you feel more vulnerable or more powerful being undressed while he’s still fully clothed, but either way you want him naked, now. You get about three buttons into his shirt before you grow impatient, ripping it the rest of the way open and sending buttons flying. 

Good. Let him need to repair his clothes for once.

You push him flat onto his back and descend onto his chest, alternating kisses, licks, and bites. Your dull human teeth don’t have nearly the same effect as his fangs, but it just means you get to bite twice as hard in order to leave a mark. He writhes beneath your touch, and you feel a twisted satisfaction at the quiet little grunts and gasps you’re finally pulling from him. He’s rarely this vocal during sex, and it’s only serving to spur you on more.

His groans build until you capture his nipple in your teeth and bite down, causing him to shout and buck his hips up into you. In a flash he flips you around onto your back and he bears down on you, eyes dangerous. 

“Little love, do you think you’re in control?” he asks in a low growl, his hand gripped around your jaw. You sneer and slide your leg against the strained bulge in his pants. He hisses and your smile widens.

“Right now? Yes,” you coo, continuing to press your calf against his velvet-covered cock. You grab the tie still hanging around his neck and pull him close. 

“If you want it back, fucking take it.”

If I put my hands around your wrists, would you fight them?

He kisses you roughly, catching your bottom lip in his teeth biting hard enough to puncture the skin. He pulls back slightly, a drop of your blood running down his chin and a snide grin. He makes like he’s about to kiss you again but shoves your face away before your lips make contact.

This is the worst you’ve ever seen him—the most arrogant, the most condescending, borderline cruel even. And you have never been more turned on.

If I put my fingers in your mouth, would you bite them?

“Is that all you’ve got?” you taunt, licking the blood from your lips. “Go ahead, choke me, daddy.”

The feminist in you is horrified, but the little gremlin controlling your libido is having the time of its life. It squeals with delight when his hand closes around your throat, just barely constricting your breathing. 

“You insolent little brat,” he breathes into your ear, pulling up on your jaw. “I will absolutely ruin you.”

And there will be no tenderness, no tenderness.

“Do it, coward,” you spit, and he lets go just long enough to finish undressing from the waist down. He grabs your still heeled ankle and presses your leg up by your shoulder, stretching you wide enough to take him without any prep. You gasp as he fills you, the stinging pain outweighed by the gratification of finally feeling him inside you.

The only thing that I ask, love me mercilessly.

He sets a punishing rhythm, one knee on the bed and the other foot still firmly planted on the floor. He bottoms out with each long thrust and you grab hold of his hair to brace yourself. He winces with the pain but doesn’t slow down, and your moans grow high and loud as he continues to furiously pound into you. 

“Gods, fuck, Astarion,” you keen, your desire coiling in your belly and threatening to explode. “Keep going, daddy, fuck me please.” He grunts with the effort and your dirty talk seems to be having an effect as his pace falters. You jerk your hips up into him, chasing your orgasm, until finally it barrels through you like a runaway train. You pull on his hair as you come and that sets off his, his pulsing cock pressing against the clenching walls of your cunt. 

He stays deep inside you as the aftershocks reverberate through both of you, until the only sound remaining is your heavy panting. He drops his forehead to touch yours, a pleasantly tender moment after some of the roughest sex you can recall having. He starts to giggle and you follow suit, suddenly giddy. He pulls out of you with a squelch and walks to the bathroom to get a towel to clean up the mess you’ve left behind. He wipes you down gently, a surprising bit of aftercare you’re not accustomed to with him. He plants a tender kiss on your lips and you feel dizzy with affection for him.

You settle up against the headboard of your bed, his arm around you and both of you looking at your phones in a companionable silence. After a moment, he lets out a small chuckle. 

“What?” you ask, turning your head towards him quizzically.

“I’m just shocked that worked, is all,” he laughs, shaking his head. Your confusion grows and you furrow your brow.

“What worked?” you laugh with him, but something doesn’t feel right.

“The whole night, taking you to see Taming, getting into just enough of a fight to result in,” he vaguely waves his hand, gesturing to the edge of the bed, “all of that.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean?” You pull away from him and your stomach drops. Surely he can’t be suggesting what you think he’s suggesting.

“You get riled up so easily, I thought this might be fun.” He still doesn’t seem to have picked up on your heart pounding in your ears, which is frankly unusual for him.

“Are you saying… Wait, are you saying that you planned that fight? So, what, we’d have angry sex?”

“Of course, you don’t think I actually believe anything that I said, do you? Taming of the Shrew might be well-written, but it’s a rubbish play to produce.” He finally turns to you and sees that you’ve gone white as a sheet. “Oh, darling, don’t take it like that, you’re positively adorable when you’re angry, I couldn’t resist.” He tries putting his hand to your cheek but you flinch away like he’s burned you.

“Get out,” you say in a low voice, unable to even look at him.

“What?” He’s still laughing. He doesn’t get it. “My sweet, didn’t you-”

“GET. OUT.” Your voice has a venom in it that even shocks you. He stares at you in horror until you shoot him an icy glare. “Now.”

Without a word he stands and quickly puts his clothes back on. You stay in your bed, naked and curled under a sheet, until you hear the front door of your apartment slam. With shaking hands, you call Shadowheart.

“Moonmaiden’s delight, did you enjoy yourself? It certainly sounded like you did.” The sound of Shadowheart’s bubbly laugh usually makes you smile, but right now it seeps into your skin like poison.

“Shade, please come over,” you whimper, and the second the words leave your mouth, the tears begin to fall. You don’t hear her hang up, but you do hear a muffled, “I’m going to fucking kill him!” through the wall. You pull your knees further into your chest and sob.

[happiest-hotch]

Father's Day

for the biggest dilf out there <3

Summary: Father's Day morning at the Hotchner household.

Word Count: 1.8k

As almost every morning for the past eight months started, you wake up to baby cries from Noah. Lately, it's through the baby monitor, the other camera set up in the nursery down the hall, but prior to that, it was a bassinet in the master bedroom, and the journey to soothe your crying baby was shorter.

At this point, it's reflexive to haul yourself out of bed when that special alarm rings, just like how it's natural for you to respond when you hear him cry.

Aaron stretches out and places a large hand on your thigh to stop you from getting up, but his head still rests against the white pillows, jet-black hair tousled.

"I'll get him." He says, mostly still asleep. He hasn't even opened his eyes.

"Don't worry." You assure him, voice thick with sleep. "Sleep in a little." You instruct him, squeezing his hand as you get out of bed and straighten the bedding. "It's Father's Day, after all."

He doesn't protest, just lets his hand drop on the comforter where you would usually lay.

You slip off into the hall, stepping through the quiet house. It's rarely like that nowadays, and you love the noise and chaos with your whole heart.

You hear the crying when you open the door to Noah's room, but it quietens when he recognizes you. He's the cutest thing you've ever seen, holding onto the crib bars to support his weight with wet tears on his cheeks. He looks most similar to the baby photos you've seen of Jack which is cute since you didn't know Jack until he was five. Adding to the list of adorable things about him, Noah's perfected the Hotchner stare when he gets grumpy.

"Good morning, sweet baby." You coo, picking him up and resting him on your hip so you can hug him. He looks at you with eyes identical to Aaron's, a rich brown.

Noah gurgles a response, grasping at your hair with his chubby fingers. It amazes you, how he's learning to communicate.

"Today is Father's Day." You tell him. Narrating your day has become common as you attempt to broaden his vocabulary. "So, we get to celebrate daddy." He's a while away from speaking, but he definitely understands who Daddy is and he giggles in the cutest way. "And he can't tell us it's too much. He probably will, but today, we don't have to listen."

After you take him out of his sleep sack and change him, like has become routine, you make your way to the kitchen with him.

"Are you hungry?" You ask rhetorically, seating him in his highchair. "I bet you are. Those bedtime bottles don't keep you full all day as well as all night, but Mommy loves that you're not waking up at night." He babbles back at you with the most adorable smile. "So, what do you think? Oatmeal sound good? Then some eggs with Jack and Daddy?"

You do what you promise, making him breakfast while he sits there smiling. You've never known a smilier baby than he is. While the oatmeal cooks, you get started beating some eggs to make breakfast for your other favorite people.

With cooked oatmeal, you put the bacon in a pan and leave it to cook so you can feed Noah.

"Here, sweet boy." You coo, squatting down and holding out a thick, plastic spoon of cooled oatmeal. "I bet you're growing and that's why you're so hungry. We're going to have to start buying you one-year-old clothes soon." You joke. He's a good eater like he's a good sleeper, easy as well as adorable, and he swallows his breakfast down.

The bacon starts sizzling in the background, and you leave the spoon on the tray, hoping he'll feed himself, while you get started on the eggs and flipping the bacon.

Noah isn't with the plan, and his tears start pretty quickly, accompanied by screams that could threaten to wake the house. He throws the spoon you were using to feed him on the floor carelessly.

"Sweetie, it's okay." You comfort him from the kitchen, but his cheeks are turning red pretty quickly, and you can't rush over to feed him without burning breakfast. It feels like an impossible juggle some days.

Just as the situation threatens to get worse, Aaron walks into the room. "Uh oh, someone's grumpy this morning." He jokes, walking to the cutlery drawer to get him a new spoon.

"I can do it." You jump in, taking the spoon from him while making sure not to burn the eggs.

"It's alright, baby." He assures you. "I'll feed him, you focus on breakfast. It smells delicious, by the way, thank you." As always, he's your perfect, well-mannered husband.

On any other day, you'd be thankful he's there and not somewhere around the country. "But it's Father's Day." You remind him in a whiney tone. "Let me do it. You just-"

Aaron squeezes your hip as he walks past. "Not happening." He says with tenderness. "I don't want you being a married single mom just because it's a random Sunday in June." He squats in front of the highchair where you were before, soothing Noah by running his hand through his soft hair before offering him some food. It does make you feel better when his crying ceases, and it's adorable when his face lights up as he recognizes his dad. "Hey, bubba, no more tears." He coos before turning back to finish what he was saying to you. "And I'm not always here, so I'm definitely going to help out when I am."

"Today's not a day for you to criticize yourself." You remind him, smiling softly. He's so attractive when he's most domestic, dad-like and husband-like. "Especially about being a dad, which, I'll be the first one to say today, you're amazing at."

He chuckles lightly, focusing his attention between feeding Noah and lovingly gazing at you. "Thank you." He tells you. "Not just for that, but for always."

You nod, always grateful you're the person who gets to compliment him endlessly.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Aaron asks in an enticing tone, turning back to look at you with a shy grin.

"Sure." You say, smiling over at him.

"I watch you on the baby monitor sometimes." He admits sheepishly, the collected facade of his slipping like it does when he's being tender. Your cheeks heat slightly at his confession. "And what you say is so sweet. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

Breakfast cooked, you walk over and place your hand on his shoulder. "You deserve it. You hungry?"

He doesn't get out a reply before Jack comes running into the room excitedly, throwing his arms around his dad's neck, so Aaron can hold him to his side.

Noah recognizes him and reaches out for his brother with a grin, breakfast- and crying- forgotten about.

"Good morning! Happy Father's Day." Jack cheers.

"Thanks, buddy," Aaron replies, sweeping his hair out of the way to kiss his forehead. "Love you."

"Love you too," Jack says. He reaches for Aaron's hand that's holding the spoon. "Can I do it?" Watching them interact is something you deeply enjoy, and the responsibility of feeding his brother is a duty Jack takes seriously.

Aaron nods, handing it over and letting Jack feed his brother as he makes his way over to you. He holds your waist, kissing you softly before pulling back and leaving his face an inch from yours. "Hi." He whispers.

"Hi." You say back, leaning up to kiss him once before wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him while you watch the boys.

It's your happy place. Still and full of love.

"Breakfast?" Aaron asks because although he doesn't want to stop feeling your warm body against his, the food is getting cold.

You rest your head on his chest, looking at Jack and Noah. "Are you hungry Jack?"

He looks at you with wide eyes. "Starving." He exaggerates the word.

"Bacon and eggs?" You offer, although it's already made and he won't turn it down.

"Please, please!" He replies excitedly, leaving Noah's food on the highchair. "But I have to get something." He remembers before racing off out of the kitchen.

You frown, looking as confused as Aaron. You pull apart, you to serve breakfast, and Aaron to tempt Noah with some more oatmeal, but it seems he heard what you offered his brother and no longer wants what you made him. Thankfully, he's much more willing to feed himself eggs and picks some up as soon as you set down his plate.

Jack comes back when the plates are on the table, taking his seat with a sly smile and his hands behind his back.

"What do you have?" Aaron asks with a soft smile at Jack's animated expression.

"This," Jack reveals a card, handing it over to his dad.

The words on the front are definitely his handwriting, reading Happy Father's Day in messy, lopsided black letters. There's a stick figure family at the bottom, and Aaron's wearing a cape reminiscent of a superhero.

"Wow, this is amazing." Aaron compliments him, tears in his eyes at the thoughtful card. "You did this?"

Jack nods before making Aaron open the card and pointing at a paint mark on the bottom. "But Noah did this." He explains. "He can't hold a pen, though, so I had to put the paint on his finger and stamp it for him."

Aaron's face softens even more, if possible. "Thank you. This is the best gift I've gotten, aside from you and Noah." He looks at you, making sure you know he's grateful you made him a dad again.

"What's the best part about being a father?" Jack asks randomly.

Aaron pauses, his mind filled with memories and emotions. "The best part." He starts, voice thick with emotion. "Getting to raise you and Noah, and watching you grow up and become a really awesome, kind, intelligent, and funny person. And being there for you no matter what."

"I like you being my dad," Jack tells him.

"I like being your dad too," Aaron replies, squeezing his hand. You can see the tears in his eyes, but it's too early for tears.

"And Noah's?" Jack asks, looking at his little brother.

Aaron nods, looking at his youngest and then at you. "Of course, Noah too."

It might just be a random Sunday in June, but Father's Day serves as a reminder of his privilege of being a dad, the unconditional love he has for them, and how much he appreciates having you by his side. Aaron Hotchner just loves being a dad.

[webslingingslasher]

hi! I love the way you write. could you do something in which peter thinks he has no chance with reader as himself so he flirts with her as spiderman but eventually she finds out

*cleaning out my inbox*

sitting in a lawn chair on the roof of your building, spider-man sitting on the ledge, swinging his legs as he spoke, you listened to his rambling about an old woman he helped today.

it's been the dozenth time you've met up and talked, caught by him one afternoon when you were hiding away. you'd been healthy friends since, mostly surface value and mostly him venting, but this time was different.

spider-man didn't get personal, and you understood why, but since he didn't, you didn't. spider-man is talking animatedly but all you can think about is peter parker, sometimes life just wasn't fair.

you were caught when you didn't laugh with him at a joke, he tilted his head, 'you're quiet today, you doin' alright?'

you shrug, you feel emotionally numb.

'stuff at school, it's dumb. everything is dumb.'

spider-man adjusts himself, 'wanna talk about it?'

'i don't know, have you...' you pause to collect your thoughts, clearing your throat you start again. 'have you ever tried to make a move on someone but, like, telepathically?'

'uhhh...'

'ugh, i don't know. like, hey, if i stare at you enough and say 'ask me out' on a loop in my head, they'll catch the hint and do it.'

spider-man thinks about it, 'i think my version of that would be hey, if i avoid eye contact and pretend you don't exist, maybe you'll get a crush on me and ask me out, or avoid me forever. i'm okay with either.'

you laugh, you feel like he opened up to you, and he's the city's hero, maybe you can open up too.

'well, mine's name is peter parker and i'm pretty sure he has no idea i exist. i mean, not that i've actually tried to talk to him before, because he seems very nice but he also makes me super nervous and i think i would lose all ability to speak.'

spider-man has wide eyes, 'so, yeah. i guess when he didn't notice me for the millionth time today it clicked that the ship has sailed and i have to move on. shit sucks, dude.'

'no! no, no, no, you can't give up! he likes you too! i mean, what if he likes you too?'

'he doesn't know i exist, it's fine.'

'he knows you exist! i'd put money on the line he was doing that thing where he pretends you don't exist because he thought he had no chance or knew he'd fumble the bag so he deemed asking you out worthless!'

your eyes narrowed, 'i'm worthless?'

spider-man clutched the sides of his mask, his voice coming out squeaky. 'you're such a girl! you only hear one thing!'

'you called me worthless.'

'no, i said that i thought i had no chance and embarrassing myself just to get rejected would be a terrible waste of my time.'

you should be more focused on his switch from third to first point of view, but you crossed your arms instead.

'so... i'm a waste of time?'

spider-man groans, it's dramatic. in one motion in tugs his mask off and peter parker revealed.

'you're not a waste of time,' he gestures between yourselves, hinting at all the hours you've spent together, 'obviously.'

'and i'd really, really like to take you on a date.'

you hum, 'is this the part where i avoid you forever?'

a shy smile, 'i hope not.'

[luveline]

if you’re open to it, could you complete the trio and write smth abt james seeing reader’s scars for the first time, too? ty x

ty for requesting ♡ fem

cw past self-harm [no graphic imagery]

It should surprise James as someone who's never thought about hurting himself, but he has two very important best friends, of which he'd do anything for, who aren't of the same disposition. So when he notices the pale skin of your scars where they criss-cross your chest, your stomach, your thighs, he's almost ready for it. 

You attract sad souls, Sirius had said once, mostly joking. 

But James doesn't think that's true. He just thinks there are more people who needed love and didn't get it than first appears. 

You sit up in your sun lounger. James pretends not to notice when you see him, smiling to himself as you grab your cover up. 

"The sun doesn't feel real, right?" you ask, sitting next to him on the picnic bench. "Late September heatwave. What will global warming think of next?" 

"It's miserable," he says agreeably, though he loves the heat. "That's nice." 

"This?" you ask, waving at your cover up. It's ruched fabric made to drape at your hips, almost like a skirt. 

"Yeah, that. You look really pretty." 

"Thanks, James." Your smile is all kinds of dazzling. "Nice of Sirius to host a party, huh? Now we can make the most of the sunshine. Did he put you in charge of food again?"

He nods to the spread in clingfilm behind you both. It's safe in the shade, the sun kissing to your knees and not much further. "Doesn't he always?" 

"It's good for me. I like your samosas." 

"Which ones? The kheema ones?" He nudges you amicably. "You have good taste. I made a bunch of sliders too, cucumber sandwiches. Don't limit yourself." 

You stay by his side and eventually peel back the clingfilm on one of the plates, stealing quarter sandwiches with one of your legs pulled up on the bench. Your bikini is little and your coverup slips to one side down your leg, scars plainly on show. He has no intention of bringing it up, until you notice what's happened and flinch. He can't hide that he's seen fast enough, horrified when you fluster, you waver, your eyes pinched with humiliation. "Sorry," you say, laughing awkwardly. "I'm flashing you. Sorry." 

He casts a glance around the back garden. Most of your friends squeeze into the lazy spa sweating themselves to death in the sun, and the remainder drink cold drinks by the stereo. No one's watching you but him. 

"You don't have to be embarrassed," he says. 

"I just didn't want you to see." 

"Me?" he asks, startled. 

"I mean. Not like that. Not not like that." You tear the crusts off of your sandwich and put them on the plate like you're looking for something to do. "Not like anything." You smile at him a raw shade off of happy. 

"Shortcake, it doesn't bother me one bit. You think I care about that?" He ducks his head. "You're you. All of this," —he makes a small gesture at your front— "is you. I want to see all of it. You don't have anything you need to hide." 

"All of it?" you ask strangely. 

He doesn't get what you're saying but then he does, suddenly, blood rushing to his face and his ears hot as a flame. What a weird thing to say, he stresses to himself. You stupid man. "I'm not a pervert," he says. 

You gawp. He gets hotter, if possible, scratching his hair back from his eyes. 

"I mean, you're beautiful," he says, "anyone would be lucky to see it all. Oh my god." 

You put your ruined sandwich on the edge of the plate and fix the clingfilm as he dies of shame. He's thinking well, courting you was fun while it lasted, all those bad jokes and better hugs, he loved every minute of your attention. 

You laugh. "Most of the time I don't care about them," you confess, and he's so happy to hear your voice rolling over his embarrassment he could run a lap, "they're old. Can't do anything about them. But I didn't want you to think I was some sort of freak." 

"Is that what you think you are?" 

"No, of course not… Silly for doing something like that." 

"I don't think it was silly. We do what we can, right?" He eases his arm around your shoulders in a hug, his hand eager to rub at the top of your arm. "I don't think you're some sort of freak, you're my type of freak." 

"You really don't care?" 

"I care," he says gently, touching the tip of his nose to your cheek before giving you a more friendly amount of space. "A lot. Especially about you, okay? But I don't care about them unless you do. I like you, yeah?" 

"I like you too," you say. 

"Wanna prove it?" 

James asks you to make him a plate of things to graze on while he finds you both a drink. It's not his most romantic of lines, but it means you end up at his side for a dedicated while, flicking condensation at his chest. You don't worry about the coverup again. 

[nishiyako]

Panties (NSFW)

Paring : 3rdYear!Nishinoya x 3rdYear!Reader

Tags : Fucking in a cleaning closet, Vaginal penetration, bent over, Teasing, Panty stealing (mostly giving), fingers in mouth, established relationsip, Noya being a lil fucking perv.

Summary : Being the responsible third years you and Noya are, the both of you decide to stay a bit late to clean up the gym. Once alone, he accidentally gets a glimpse of your adorable striped panties, which mad him decide to have you right then and there.

You and Noya were left in the gym cleaning up, as third years it was your responsibility to take care of everything apparently. Noya finished rounding up all the volleyballs as you were left in the closet with the brooms.

You heard his footprints follow behind you, "looking for something?" He asked, "No, Tanaka just forgot his beanie" you said as you picked it off the floor, he watched as you ass peaked out of your blue skirt, your striped panties showed as it highlighted your puffy folds.

"Wonder how it got here" you said standing back up, "he'll probably pick it up in the morning" he assured. You felt his arms wrap around you as he snuggled his face into the crook of your neck smelling your sweet perfume.

"Tired honey?" You asked. He didn't bother with a response as his hands traveled under your blouse, "What are you doing..?" You ask as your cheeks start to glow red.

"Relax, I just wanna feel ya for a bit he whispered in your hear, you heard the venom in his voice as you knew he had other intentions. You stood there stunned as he ran his rough hands and traced every curve of your body. His right hand slipped under your skirt and rubbed through through the fabric of your soaked underwear.

It was a miracle how good you looked in the girls uniform, It was probably his best decision to choose karasuno. "Noya, please, not here." You whined, "Relax, no one's here anymore, we've got the gym to ourselves. You rather let me fuck you on the stage?" He asked with a tease in his raspy voice. "No..." you hummed.

You knew your boyfriend was a pervert. You loved that fact about him. He could control his constant hunger for you, yes. But something about having you right now on school property exited him.

It was his habit to grind against that ass of yours just to see how flustered you would get, but you were alredy so embarrassed he didn't want you to combust on him.

"Bend over for me, I just wanna test something." He said, he was always curious and you always seemed to fule it. "Noya please." A silence filled your sentence "don't do this to me" you begged. "Do what? Treat you like the tease you are? Sorry babe, that can't be stoped." It was about time you took responsibility.

All those times you made lewd gestures for him on the bleachers during the game that would obviously distract him, the nude photos you'd send him while he'd be out of town for games, or when you'd brush up against him every time you passed a group of girls.

You were kind of oblivious to the effect you had on him. You thought of it as just a funny joke, but secretly, you knew it was an obvious enough invitation.

You fainally bended over as you held one if the shelves for support, you alredy heard him tug his shorts down as he rubbed it shaft against the soaked fabric.

He pushed your cotton panties to the side as he sliped his sensitive tip inside you, you let out a breathy moan as it was mumbled by his hand over your mouth, "Is it alright if I..." he said ending his sentence, you alredy knew what he was gonna say anyways.

You nodded your head as a 'yes', he slipped in slamming his hips against your soft ass, his other hand held you by your hips, keeping you still. His chest was against your arched back as he held you close. You adjusted to him and it didn't take long for him to start moving.

He started slow, savoring every muffled sound you made. He started to thrust in, getting quicker and deeper as he made the shelf rock slightly and the objects on it rattle.

You could blame him, he loved fucking that cunt of yours under your skirt. Squeezing the flesh of your hips as he pounded you. You gripped the the shelf for dear life as you held yourself up, you stood on your tip-toes letting him have better access of every part of your sorry body.

His thrusts were sloppy but it felt divine, your brain fuzzed as the fear of being caught faded, all you focused on was the hands on your body and the twitching cock inside you.

Noya toyed with you, reaching his hands under your bra as he squeezed your perked nipples, or he'd reach down and rub circles around your sensitive clit. Whatever there was he wanted to toy with it, letting his curiosity and disires run free.

He took control of the situation in the best ways possible, the door still being open enough to see your body in the dim closet. The red hand marks on your ass from spanking you.

You started to get louder from the way he pounded you, fluids dripping down your thighs as his hand toyed with you, it drove you crazy. You felt his hand let go of your lips, you caught your breath fainaly being able to breath.

Suddenly his two fingers trapped your tounge to the floor if your mouth, you sucked on them to muffle your sweet sounds as your tounge played with them. Maybe sometime he'd put that tounge of yours to good use.

Everything was too much, yet you couldn't get enough. If he could treat you like this every day, he would. Maybe he just might.

"Baby, ima pull out mkay?" Noya whispered in your ear, you nodded as you couldn't wait for your sweet release. Pounding you even faster as your legs started to quake.

Suddenly, he pulled out, fluids rushed down your thighs as they soaked the hem of your black knee socks. He stroked himself as he came all over your exposed ass, soaking your cute panties even more.

You heard a whiney "Fuck!" Escape his lips as he finished, you both caught your breath as you decided to finnish up cleaning, also making sure to clean you the mess both of you made.

He joked about you giving him the panties as a gift, and secretly, you did consider it. As he walked you to your door, you said your goodbyes and goodnights. As he turned around, you spoke, "Hold on! I wanna give you something."

He turned round to see you holding onto a table as you balanced yourself. You slipped off your panties and folded them before handing it to him.

You gave Noya a smile and a kiss on the cheek then you bent over taking off your shoes before entering the house, now he saw your fully exposed cunt infront of him before you stood back up and entered your house.

Long story short, he had to deal with a bloody nose once he got home.

Note : Thank you so much, @syruponsausage , for the idea! I do agree, pervy dom Noya is top teir ;))

Reminder : Asks are still open!!

[zoeykallus]

I just woke up from a very vivid fever dream involving Tech and thought I had to capture it. So I decided to make it an X - Reader one-shot and fill in the usual Dream-gaps. If you find any mistakes, feel free to keep them, my fever is high enough to fry eggs on my ribcage, so I'm assuming some typos must have crept in. I file this under 'slightly complicated Fluff'. It might be a little silly too, after all, it was a fever dream.

Tech x Fem!Reader – One-Shot – Distractions

Warnings: Annoying Crosshair/Idiots in Love

________

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some cough syrup)

You see Tech working on the Marauder outside, sit down near him on one of the many boxes of spare parts standing around him, and watch him for a while. He is fully concentrated, hasn't even noticed your presence yet, is completely in his element, in a focused tunnel, while he works. When you finally ask, "What are you doing?" Startled, he straightens up a little too quickly, bumps his head on the outer hull of the ship and rubs his head with a soft sigh. Tech finally turns to you and looks at you briefly, pushing his goggles up the bridge of his nose with a nimble finger. "Replace a few burnt-out parts, our last mission didn't leave the Marauder unscathed" He frowns briefly, then says before turning back to his work, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't always sneak up on me like that" You smirk and look at the back of his head, as he has turned back around when you say, "I'm not sneaking, you're just hyper-focused again" You hear him sigh softly again. As he loosens one of the charred pieces he says, "Maybe, but you could have cleared your throat" "Maybe I should put a bell on my neck," you joke amusedly. Tech comments, "That would work too, but after a while it would probably be annoying for you and those around you"

You watch him in silence for a little while, then offer, "Want me to take a look at your head?" Tech pauses for a moment and asks, "Why should you?" You roll your eyes with a smile and say, "Because it's pretty, but mostly because you hit it" He glances over his shoulder very briefly, but long enough for you to see how his cheeks have taken on a slightly rosy tint. "I'm fine," Tech waves it off, continues working, stretches out his hand and says, "Better pass me the welding blaster" You glance over the scattered tools and grab the only one that looks anything like a welding blaster. Tech doesn't complain when you pass it to him, so it must be the right one. You ask him curious questions for a while, not necessarily because you're interested in the tool, more because you want to talk to him, hoping for a conversation. You really like Tech, much more than you wanted to admit to yourself for a while. But Tech is a little... different, it's not so easy to get close to him or make small talk. For a while, he patiently answers all your questions, but from one moment to the next, his tone becomes a little more irritable.

"Do you have to ask me all these questions? I work here and would like to concentrate on my task in peace" You swallow, blink, and don't know what to say at first. Then you suddenly hear Hunter's voice next to you, "You guys all right?" "Sure," you say, forcing yourself to smile briefly and hurrying away, your heart pounding uncomfortably. It stings more than you want to admit that Tech has practically shooed you away. Some distance away, but still in sight, you sit down with your holopad on the speeder you came here with and browse aimlessly around the holonet to keep your hands busy. Tech hears Hunter sigh and turns around. When he sees that you are no longer in your seat, he frowns in surprise. He looks around and finally catches sight of you by your speeder. He blinks, thinking, he hadn't actually wanted to scare you away. Tech actually likes having you around, but you're the only person who manages to distract him, to break his concentration, which he can't handle too well. When he hears your voice, his whole mind is automatically occupied with listening to you, recognizing nuances, soaking them up like a sponge, enjoying them. However, this is a hindrance at work.

Tech senses that Hunter is looking at him and returns his gaze. The squad leader stands there, his arms crossed in front of his chest, the typical expression on his face that he always has when something interpersonal has gone over Tech's head. "You know you hurt her?" Hunter asks quietly, patiently. Tech sighs, "I do now" Hunter puts a hand on his shoulder and says, "'Brother, I'm certainly no expert, but I think she really likes you. And judging by the way you react to her sometimes, albeit often very subtly, you like her too." Tech turns the tool in his hands and watches you from a distance for a while, unsure. He shrugs and says, "Well, I was able to rule out a virus" Hunter frowns questioningly. "I don't understand" Tech explains in his typical matter-of-fact tone, "My body and mind react to her, I get warm around her, her voice throws me off balance, her laugh tingles under my skin. To be honest, at first I thought these were symptoms of illness" Hunter raises his eyebrows and suppresses a grin, then clears his throat and says, "Now I understand. Well, maybe you should go over to her. Talk to her."

Your attention is stubbornly focused on the holopad in your hand, you don't look up once, even though you sense that you are being watched. You don't look up either when you hear footsteps and finally Tech clearing his throat. When you don't respond, he says uncertainly, "I'm sorry I snapped at you" "Okay," you say calmly. Somehow Tech was expecting a different reaction, or more, because he's still standing there staring at you while you stare at your holopad, which is currently showing an advertisement for some instant meal. "Are you mad at me?" he suddenly asks, so uncertainly that you almost look up from your holopad. "No, Tech," you say a little more gently. "I don't believe you" Surprised, you look up and look at him. You look at each other in silence for what feels like an eternity. Crosshair walks past in the background and grumbles, "Kiss each other already, nobody can watch this anymore" You both look briefly in his direction, but the Sniper doesn't even stop to wait for your reaction. Tech yells after him, "That interjection was uncalled for!"

"Was it?" you ask quietly. Tech very slowly turns back to you. "Excuse me?" You blink, look at his face, and your courage leaves you again. You wave it off. "Oh, nothing." Tech sighs and sits down next to you on the speeder, his long legs reaching down to the ground, while yours are slightly bent and resting on the footboard of the speeder. After a while, you hear him say, "At the risk of embarrassing myself and making myself look vulnerable, I'd like to confess something to you" You turn your head in his direction to look at him. He swallows as he realizes he has your full attention. He finally opens his mouth and says, "I like you" You can't help but smile automatically. "How much?" you ask again, much more boldly.

Tech blinks, he hadn't expected this question. "You want a measurable comparison?" he asks, surprised. You nod with a grin. Tech slightly blushes and says, "Okay, you don't seem angry anymore, that's a good start. Let me think for a minute." "Okay. Take your time." Suddenly, his eyes light up, and you realize that he has just found a way to tell you how much he likes you. "Remember, you once asked me what the best thing about being part of this squad was?" You nod and say, "Yeah, you said the Marauders and flying it" Tech clears his throat and his cheeks turn rosy again as he says, "I like you more than the Marauders, and more than flying" You beam at him, and you know he's going to start arguing with you and yet you say, "I like you even more" Tech pauses, he smiles but then says matter-of-factly, "That's not possible" "Of course it is," you insist, amused.

You discuss back and forth for a while, comparing how much you like each other and Tech even makes calculations in the end. Crosshair, meanwhile, is standing behind you, more or less sneaking up on you and listening to you, arms crossed in front of his chest, rolling his eyes every few seconds. Tech shows you his holopad, "See, my probability calculation contradicts your assumption" You show him yours on which you have drawn a heart in a paint program and say, "And mine contradicts your calculation" Tech frowns, "That's a heart, not a-" "HEY!" Crosshair's loud exclamation makes you both jump off the speeder, startled, and Tech automatically shoves you behind him protectively. Tech snorts, "Was that really necessary?" Crosshair looks at you with his piercing gaze and says, "Didn't I tell you two to kiss?" "You're rude," you say, still recovering from your shock. "Tell me something new," Crosshair says dryly, "For example, that you kissed each other." "That's none of your business," says Tech indignantly.

"So no," the Sniper says, rolling his eyes and backing away again. You look up at Tech and say, "Maybe we really should?" He blinks several times then asks uncertainly, "Kiss?" As you nod, Tech licks his lips, wondering if he's used his lip balm today, how many hours it's been since he brushed his teeth and if he's eaten anything since then. While his thoughts are still running nervously over each other, he feels your fingers gently reach into the collar of his Blacks that sticks out of the top of his armor and pull him in your direction. Suddenly his head is completely empty, but his heart is beating incredibly fast and his pulse is racing. At the same moment his warm lips gently touch yours, somewhere in the distance you hear Crosshair shout, "GET A ROOM YOU TWO!"

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@antishadow2021

@sleepycreativewriter

@projectdreamwalker

@1vlouds

[duchezss]

I've taken a bit to try and assemble my thoughts of jwct, and frankly I still don't know how to feel. Not in a "oh that was bad" kinda way, but in a "that was life changing how can I move on" kinda way. So I'm gonna do what I do best and just ramble on here, you know me. Spoilers of course.

Overall thoughts:

Holy cow the animation!! Not to say jwcc was ugly, but you can instantly see the budget differences. The lighting was gorgeous and the sequences were great. It was just so clear how much love was poured into every scene, the thought behind every move was so clear.

The story was so engaging and good. I thought I was gonna get tired of the "picking everyone up" trope, but it worked so well. I think the difference is this show knew how to take it's time. Ben and Darius had a few episodes to themselves, then Sammy and Kenji were given time to express their grievances. Hell we didn't even get to Yaz till ep 6 and I loved that. The dinosaurs were great too, and the overall plot was just amazing. I loved how it all slowly enfolded and how it was clear they had only scratched the surface with what they found out.

The voice acting was great as always, but it did kinda make me emotional at first to hear how much Paul had grown up. Getting used to Kenji and Brooklynn's new VA's was kinda odd, especially for Kenji, but by the end I was mostly cool with them.

The characters (and trust I'm gonna talk about all of them individually in a sec) were just superb. Their overall maturity and growth was outstanding, especially seeing how their trauma really effected them all differently. All of their arcs before and throughout the season were simply breathtaking. I think this season might be the best in terms of balance, it handled it's action, humor, and emotional moments so well.

This kinda relates back to the animation, I can't explain it, but they all just felt so much more human this season. Everyone's body language was so fluid and lifelike. They would talk over each other and mumble, they would hunch and roll their eyes and all of this sounds normal, but it really stood out. I think it's safe to say the animators really popped off this season, the direction was so clear this is truly a masterpiece. Also I felt like all of them were so touchy and I loved that so much. Like yes hug, hold hands, grab shoulders, pat on the back, I LOVE.

Characters:

Darius, my god Darius. Of course I've always loved him, he's an amazing mc and he is just so lovable. That being said I generally couldn't get over how much I loved him this season. He blew me away in ways I couldn't have imagined. His grief is so understandable and the way he shifted his ideology on dinosaurs because of Brooklynn was just heartbreaking. The way his character was handled was amazing, and it was wonderful to see that the writers do know how to let the others shine while still showcasing that he is the mc. I was also so in love with how sassy and witty he was, like when did he become so funny? His vulnerable moments were just as good and I loved how they showed his anger and frustration as well. His arc about learning to accept his grief and his regret was so poignant and beautiful. It's clear he needs a shoulder to cry on and yet he still puts everyone first, god I didn't think I could love him this much. He was easily the best character this season, I feel like they FINALLY showcased how amazing he is, just 10/10 no notes they ate.

I was kinda shocked by how goofy Ben was, but man I'd be lying if I said I didn't love it. Still can't get over how tall he is, and while I hated his design at first, it's really grown on me now. I really don't get how a lot of people are saying he felt like a shell of himself, cause frankly this season just cemented him as one of my favorite characters ever. He was kind, caring, understanding, humorous, he cracked jokes and messed around, but also got emotional and real. Him being a conspiracy theorist and living out of a van just makes sense, and the way he's the opposite of his germaphobe self now is hilarious. It was also interesting to see him as the meditator since he was the only one that got along with everyone else. He tried to help Darius with Kenji, he tried to give advice to Yaz about Sammy. It was just so lovely to see him so content and yet still himself? His scenes with Bumpy were so sweet and sad I can't stand them. Also I'm kinda obsessed with the fact that he's so big yet sucks at fighting and defending himself...king. I loved his mini arc about almost regressing on his fear, and how he grew from that. Ben ily light of my life, still the goat I fear.

Sammy's whole story just felt so heartbreaking. When they found her on the farm all alone it hurt me so bad. The way her family was her whole world and now they aren't on speaking terms? I hope the writers explain a bit cause I just can't fathom why? And Yaz moved away and she was really all alone. The way she approached her grief and her whole life in denial, and how she refused to accept anything was so heartbreaking. It hurt even worse because despite all of that pain she was still her. She was headstrong, kind, and passionate, for people and for dinosaurs. I did love how they still showcased her flaws and weaknesses. She had a hard time treating Yaz differently, but she also just wanted someone to actually be there for her. It's so clear she's tired and wants to be the one taken care of for once. Sammy stories feels heart wrenching in perhaps a more subtle way than the others. I really loved the direction the writers took her in this season. They showcased so much good and left us wanted more and ugh someone just give her another hug please.

If there's one thing the writers can be consistent on is making me despise Kenji. He was annoying me at first because of how he was approaching things, but he really grew on me by the end. He was this season’s punching bag and it was so heartbreaking. Brooklynn died and he blamed Darius and it's like he couldn’t escape his anger. It's interesting to see how him and Darius secluded themselves in different ways, and the way he still calls their mom? Oh I'm gonna cry. Yes Kenji is mad and he has every right to be, but it's clear his anger is misplaced. The whole scene with his father was so sad for so many reasons. Yes Kenji didn't like his father, but he literally watched him die. His breakdown was so painful to watch. I like how we can see Kenji kinda mature again over the season. It's as if he's relearning that not everything is in his control, and he shouldn't dwell on that. Sometimes his VA sounded too uninterested or nonchalant, which is a shame because the thing about Kenji is he pretends not to care but it's really the opposite. I am intrigued to see where this show will take his journey.

We took a while to get to Yaz, but I'd say it was worth the wait. I liked how this series didn't shy away from talking about her ptsd, and it took it even a step further by exploring peoples ways of coping. It's also interesting to see how fear has driven Yaz and how that has effected her relationships with all of them, but particularly Sammy. She's trying so hard to do better, but healing isn't linear and building a glass house around yourself can only do so much. I really hope they'll let us see how all of this is effecting her next season, because for someone is deathly afraid of dinosaurs this season put her through the ringer. That being said, I think there's no denying the bravery she showed. No matter how terrified she was she was always there for her friends. When Sammy needed her she knew how to calm her down, when her friends needed her help she let her instincts drive her. She even learned to let herself enjoy the moment, adding humor to trying to make the best of things. I feel for Yaz and I want to see her find comfort in her friends again, because she also just needs a hug.

Character: five stage of grief

While writing this I stopped and realized that in a way all of them really represented the five stages of grief regarding Brooklynn and just their life in general. So I wanted to take an interlude to talk about that for a moment.

Denial: Sammy - It's clear that Sammy has been trying to deny anything and everything, if only to pretend all of her problems are nonexistent. She doesn't want to believe that her family won't talk to her, and that Yaz won't either, and that her friend is just gone. Denying makes it all of it easier and so she makes herself busy so she won't even have a second to think about it all because then maybe she'd have to accept it.

Anger: Kenji - He's blaming everyone, especially Darius for Brooklynn's death. He blames the Allosaurus and he blames his father and through it all his anger never dwindles. Eventually it's all too much and he lets his anger become sadness, but it's clear his frustration and aggravation are not exactly gone. He can forgive but still feel mad at his situation and I think that's ok.

Bargaining: Yaz - Her's almost borderlines on denial like Sammy, but I think it's a little different. Because unlike Sammy she thinks everything is ok. She's convinced herself that this dino free island is fool proof and if she hides away like this nothing bad could ever happen. Obviously she comes to find out this isn't true and she has to accept the fact that her reassuring herself can only do so much. She has to face her fears, and boy does she.

Depression: Darius - From the get go we knew Darius wasn't doing too good. He's locked himself away in his bunker, cut off everyone, and had just become obsessed with catching the Allosaurus. Loosing Brooklynn was hard on all of them, but it's clear he took it the worst. It also didn't help that Kenji blamed him so much, so he fell into this hole. It's not the typical signs of depression, but his behavior is so different than before. Old Darius would have never cut everyone off and reduced dinosaurs to simple killers.

Acceptance: Ben - He's perhaps the only one that can speak so plainly about Brooklynns death. He constantly reassures Darius that it wasn't his fault and he's the one that rallies all of them together. His acceptance of her death is what allows him to put the pieces together that someone is after them. Of course he still mourns her, but the difference is he wants to get her justice and make sure all of them are safe as well.

Relationships:

To get the elephant out of the room THANK GOD brookenji broke up. I know they have a lot of shooters but I have and will never support or understand them. They just didn't work and had like zero chemistry. I really hope they stay broken up please writers I can't take it anymore. That being said I was pleasantly surprised Kenji's whole character wasn't just about Brooklynn. Yes she was a big factor, but without her there it's like he could be his own character again. That was always my biggest gripe with s4-s5 brookenji. I couple should not be reduced to their partners, they need to be their own person too.

Yasammy you will always be famous. The two of them were absolutely wonderful this season. Their fight was so warranted and valid and I loved that both of them were right in some ways. It's never black and white and it's up to communication to resolve those issues. The two of them are just so in love, they are actual soulmates like I can't. No notes, I think their relationship is proof that you can balance a couple and the individual. Sammy has her problems, Yaz has her problems, and together they can be a mess, but that's what so wonderful about it. The scene with them after they got out of the van was generally so beautiful I LOVE THEM.

Darius "I was in love with Brooklynn" Bowman....I USED TO PRAY FOR TIME LIKE THESE?? When I tell you I screamed I mean it so bad, I almost fell out of my chair. I know a lot of people aren't a fan, and they think it reduces their friendship, but I disagree. I think Darius still would've been heartbroken, but this just adds a layer. I also love it cause it's just so messy, and I think that makes it feel more real. What do you do if you love your brothers ex? I have been a dinostar defender for years, and I think there's no deny how much they mean to each other. I know he said Brooklynn didn't replicate his feelings but until we see the scene I'm gonna deny that. I think she rejected him because she didn't want him to get hurt in her investigation, that or she doesn't want to hurt Kenji. Let me just say writers you have a chance to get this all back on track PLEASEEEEE do not mess it up I can't take the heartbreak again.

Ben and Darius' friendship was kinda the best thing ever and I wasn't expecting it at all? I know they've had a rocky relationship before but this was so playful and I loved it so much. The way they goofed around and got into trouble, the show couldn't handle them together all season I guess. I also love how tender it was. Ben was so patient with Darius and it was clear he only wanted the best for him. Darius was just as patient with Ben and he helped him through his little paranoia relapse. They were such a good time and a blast to watch like the amount of times the two of them had me busting out laughing was insane.

Sammy and Ben duo oh how I've missed you. Another one I really didn't expect but they were so lovely. I loved how much they messed around yet they also dropped everything to commit a few crimes. Ep five was full of them and I loved it so much. Also the way Sammy constantly defended Ben was so special to me, that girl knew how to throw a punch lmao. Nothing too crazy, but so welcome and sweet. Also the way Ben was terrorizing Sammy on the phone with Yaz, peak cinema.

MIGHT AS WELL KILL ME NOW KENJI AND DARIUS. WHY are they always fighting Kenji don't make me mad. I loved their relationship so much. The way Kenji was so angry at Darius and yet Darius held him so close while he had a breakdown? Might just kms. They friendship is so rocky and real and I love that. I also love how Kenji wasn't angry when Darius said he had feelings for Brooklynn. He just listened and the maturity they both have is insane. I'm terrified of Brooklynn coming back and causing a love triangle, but honestly I'd be fine if they all just stayed friends if that means these two end up alright. When the brothers brother >>>

Ben and Yaz bestfriendism back everyone cheered. The way they still call each other by their last names actually kinda tears me to pieces. I love how Ben offers advice to Yaz even if it's in his own silly way. They're both so gentle and yet so playful with each other I love. I love that Yaz just let's Ben go on his side quests like yeah he's got it. They didn't get that many scenes but I still love them so dearly anyways.

The return of the king, Sammy and Darius. I know they didn't get that much but they were always one of my fav limited screen time duos. The way they constantly comfort each other just pulls on the heartstrings. Like when they just hugged in the back of the van? And when Sammy raced to hug him again in the warehouse? Ohh I love them. And despite it all Darius trying his best to defend Sammy? Save me older sister-younger brother duo save me.

Kenji got very limited time with Sammy and Yaz and I can't wait to see more cause those just iconic duos, I also would love to see more of Darius and Yaz since they also didn't meet till the very end. I really hope S2 (I'm pretending like it's already confirmed) let's us see more of this, especially Kenji and Yaz please I've missed them so much.

Ohhhhh Ben and Kenji. Benji nation we're kinda so back, living off crumbs is better than living off nothing. Ok but in all seriousness their relationship is so sweet. Ben trying to make Kenji see reason in the beginning, then letting Kenji hold Bumpy's egg cause it was clear that's what he needed at the moment. Then Kenji helping Ben when he got hurt. It's clear they speak in actions, not words. I need more of them like actually I've missed my pookies so bad.

Lastly I wanna talk about Yaz, Sammy, and Ben with Brooklynn. Their flashbacks broke my heart, and it also showcased how different their love and grief for her was. THE FACT THAT WE FINALLY GOT B DUO AND IT'S AFTER SHE'S GONE...my heart shattered. I love how funny and chill they were, we were so robbed of this in jwcc I swear. It's also kinda sad because the implication that Ben introduced Brooklynn to dark jurassic which subsequently lead her down the path that got her "killed"...I'm done. Also the fact that they were so casual implies that Brooklynn would constantly visit him at college which is just so sweet? I can't stand them bye. Sammy casually having Brooklynns old jacket tells me Brooklynn used to come over a lot, perhaps more when they were younger. Also Sammy seemed shocked to go in that room so I might be reading into this too much, but I see it as maybe that was Brooklynns guest room at one point? I am also a firm believer that Sammy dyed her hair pink for Brooklynn. Like Ben, everything just felt so casual and therefore more heart aching. Sammy wants to pretend like she could open that door and Brooklynn would just be there, researching and chilling. I think Yaz's flashback with Brooklynn is the saddest. All these years later and Yaz still confides and trusts Brooklynn to help her through her struggles. It's hard to believe they used to fight so much. Brooklynn is so understanding and kind, and I also find it interesting that it appears that Brooklynn was the one that really kept up with all of them. She wanted to be there for them, and it makes her supposed death that much sadder.

Random things of note:

I have always been a Benjamin denier AND NOW THEY'RE JUST DROPPING THAT OUT OF NO WHERE?? I can't have anything fr. Whatever, I'm still on my Sammy is short for Samantha box sue me.

Bumpy being a mother is so silly goofy but I'm hear for it, just glad she's ok cause if they actually tried to kill her I would've had to intervene.

I really loved the way they let everyone show emotions this season. Like yes of course they showed emotions before, but this felt so much rawer and realer if that makes any sense. Literally all of them cried once throughout the season and I loved that. But not just that, they let them be frustrated, and angry, and happy, and everything in between. KEEP IT UP.

All of the dinosaurs looked amazing, but man the Allosaurus stole the show. Also I loved the white eye, it made us want to view the dinosaur as evil in a way, and I think that was good for putting us in Darius' shoes.

The flashback sequence with Darius and the Allosaurus was so wicked. The team knew how to kill a dramatic moment oh my lord. This is kinda related to the animation too but so many shots were so cinematic. LIKE LIGHTING AND BLOCKING IS BACK PEOPLE. Brooklynn's apartment was gorgeous, Sammy's ranch during the sunset was beautiful. The scene of the explosion behind the T. Rex was iconic. We're so back

I'm so in love with how this show handled grief and not only that, but grief in a group setting. I think this might one of the only pieces of media I've ever seen that really shows how messy found family can be, and that's ok. It's not supposed to perfect, it's only as good as they make it.

Kenji saying dad in Japanese after having that conversation with his father about not being able to speak it, and the implication that he might've learned that word to try and talk with his father? Someone kill me like actually.

Darius wearing yellow agai- [GUNSHOT]

I could go into the color theory with all of their outfits but I won't cause I'm trying to not go that insane (it's not going well)

Ben's fanny back going across his torso, Yaz's iconic bangs.

The fact that Sammy found the map implies that A. Brooklynn came over right before she died and after Darius' confession, and B. That despite everything she still wanted and needed to talk to him about something.

Microbangs lady was actually scary as hell. I really liked her though, she was menacing and interesting. And she clearly valued her relationship with the raptors, I hope we see more of her.

I'm kinda sus of Mateo but I think that's just the trauma of every adult always betraying them. Hope he was chill and we won't see him again pls.

Sammy being such a great fighter is so random but I love it so much?? Like yes let her kick ass in cowboy boots that's my girl.

Where is Darius' necklace? When did he stop wearing it? It is important to the plot or did the animators just find it unnecessary?

Closing thoughts:

Overall WHAT A SHOW!! I had kinda fallen out of love with this show because s4 and s5 were kinda eh. I've never stopped loving the characters though, so this show was like a dream come true. Finally an amazing story to support these amazing characters again.

The character relationships felt at an all time high and I'm so grateful. These characters literally feel like my family too it's kinda bad how much I'm attached. I just love how much they love each other.

The only thing that kinda confused me was the ending. Why did they have to get on the boat right then and there? Why did no one stop the boat before it left? I'm not sure but I'm very excited to find out.

And lastly surprise surprise Brooklynn is alive. Of course I'm happy to know, but I kinda don't like the circumstances. I thought she was gonna be kidnapped or something so there would be a valid reason why she wasn't reaching out. But she's free and is just choosing to hide from the crew, with a good reason I assume. I think this will make her reunion with them more bitter than sweet, but I did just say I love messy so I'm excited anyway.

Y'all my fault I know I have a habit of rambling and making essays but this is just too much fr. Whatever I LOVE TALKING ABOUT WHAT I LOVE LMAO.

[lowkeyrobin]

Hello! I would like to please request a MCYT preference (Quackity, Tommy, Ranboo, Karl, Tubbo, Badlinu) dating a SO who can do voice impressions. A fictional character, a real person, an animal, or a sound effect. Imagine the MCYT is playing a horror game and suddenly a sound of a baby crying jumpscares them but it was actually their partner

omg stop this is adorable I love it LMAOOOO ; thank you for requesting, hope u enjoy!! ; I made these mostly kinda funny cause idrk what I'm doing

MCYT ; vocal impressions

includes ; tommyinnit, tubbo, ranboo, badlinu, quackity & karl jacobs

warnings ; language

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

he was playing a slenderman game with ranboo and charlie

he was super on edge cause he was just being chased around and it was all dark

you, as a joke, decided to scare him by making a noise

you were sitting on the beanbag chair behind him and he definitely forgot you were still here by now cause you went quiet for a while

you notice the game is silence because he's whispering for a moment until he's quiet again

you say it loud enough for it to scare him and so he can hear it, in a Jimmy Neutron impression you slightly yell, "One more paper to go, Tommy!"

He JUMPED.

he spends the next minute and a half bickering with you (playfully) while almost crying cause his heart is pounding in his chest

TUBBO

he was surprisingly cooking for once

he kind of forgot you were staying over for a while cause you went silent for a bit since your social battery was at a zero

his back was turned to you and you referenced something kinda loud out of no where

"Petah, the horse is here"

he jumped out of his skin 😭

"Y/n!"

You hear a dish clatter on the island

"Sorry!"

RANBOO

he was playing a horror game with some friends

cue scary music and silence, they were fucking terrified

you wanted to mess with them + you had a poll on your Twitter really quick if you should or not

you started barking like a chihuahua to scare him

literally fell out of his chair

it went backwards cause he pushed his feet away and he threw his headphones off

lots of laughter and apologies afterwards

FREDDIE BADLINU

he finds your impressions so fucking funny

you reference memes 24/7 and sound exactly like the original and he can't help but laugh

you're like a meme jukebox

"What!? What the fuck!?" when something weird happens

you recreate vines 24/7

you'll wake him up in the middle of the night quoting some demon from a movie and he'll actually be scared out of his mind

ALEX QUACKITY

he finds that shit so funny

he always asks you to quote Thanos in a Thanos voice (2020/2021 era)

he asks you to do an impression of him and you end up play fighting for an hour over it

"I don't sound like that!"

"I don't sound like that!" you mock

"Shut up!"

and you sound exactly like him.

KARL JACOBS

he was playing that one mental asylum game with quackity while he visited (like 2021 era)

they were silent and scared as fuck trying to maneuver through the halls

"every second you're not running, I'm getting closer"

they both screamed and fell out of their chairs so quickly 💀

karl put another hole in the wall

you often scare him with the minecraft placing water sound

you don't even know why you can make that noise, you just can