#he is very fun to make fun of what can i say. look at him. he is a weirdo /pos

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for @lynnistired Hope you like it! <3

Request: Were-rabbit x human I'm in love with your were-rabbit stuff and I want you to have full creative freedom!

Date a were-rabbit they said...

Were-rabbit x fem!human || rut, oral sex, lowkey CNC, dirty talk, praise kink

When you started dating your were-rabbit boyfriend everything was peachy. He was the cutest and most adorable guy you’ve ever met. His fur was extra soft, and his long fluffy ears fluttered adorably every time he got flustered. You fell for him fast. And he fell for you hard. You two were in love, and everything was wonderful.

The first time you two fucked you were surprised by his stamina, he made you cum three times before he got to his own release. You were on cloud nine about it. He was a gentle lover and it was overall a fun experience. But little by little he started showing more of himself, more of his never-ending stamina, more of his dominant tendencies. A part of you was awoken.

You didn’t know that about yourself. You didn’t know you liked to be called a good girl until he said it and you came. You didn’t know you had a thing for dominant guys until your adorably were-rabbit boyfriend turned into a sex crazed dom. And good Goddess if it didn’t make you hot for him. At first it was a bit of praise kink, a bit of spanking and a lot of ordering around. You ate that up. He made you feel naughty and desired and so fucking aroused you lost your mind to it.

But even then, even after having crazy sex, dominant sex, kinky sex… Nothing prepared you for the first time he had a rut.

You arrive home early, Wednesday are slow days. He’s nowhere to be seen, but you guess he’s still at work. You send him a quick text telling him to get some supplies from the store. He answers telling you he can’t, he has a problem and would be home soon. You start texting him frantically, worried sick about him. He says nothing, just sends some cryptic emojis and leaves it at that.

“Honey, I’m here. You need to run,” his voice is frantic and has an edge to it that you can’t identify. He looks you up and down and his ears stand up, twitching at every breath you take. Your heart starts beating fast.

“What do you mean?” You ask, looking at him worriedly.

He breathes deeply and slowly says: “I’m entering my rut and you need to be out of here.” You look at him confused, not really knowing were-rabbits had a rut. You thought that was a thing only werewolves had.

“Wha- why?” You try not to sound too hurt, but you don’t succeed.

“I- I don’t know if I would be able to control it, I don’t want to hurt you. Please, go. Go stay with your friend, I’ll call you when it’s over.” His voice is pleading and you want to give in, but you love him, you two can get through it together.

“No. I’ll stay,” you tell him, stubborn. You don’t tell him you are a getting turned on by the idea of him not being able to control himself around you. “I can take it. I can take you.”

His eyes are filled with heat and worry. “Are you sure? It’s going to be very intense,” he warns.

You don’t think about it too hard before you are nodding. “Yeah. I’m sure.” He tries to argue but you don’t let him, pulling your shirt and sports bra over your head in a second, exposing your breast. His gaze zeroes on them instantly, his ears twitch some more as your heartbeat speeds.

“Take your clothes off and wait for me on the bed. I need to calm down a bit before I do something I’ll regret.” The danger in his voice makes your pussy tingle. He smells the air and grunts, pointing to the room as he turns around to stop staring at your tits.

You ran all the way there and you aren’t even on the bed when his arms go around your middle and he pulls you against his furry chest. He wastes no time, pinching and rolling your nipples as you try to get your panties down your legs. You are almost done when he pushed you on the bed and jumps over you.

“I love you,” he says, but there’s an edge to it. You whimper, your pussy getting wetter by the second, his rough paws touching your face softly. It lasts just a second before his eyes turn dark and you know there’s nothing adorable about him anymore.

He positions himself over your chest and pulls on your hair, making you arch your neck to the right angle. His erection is right there, hitting you on the cheek as he takes it in his hand. He passes it around your face, marking you with his precum as he tells you how pretty you look under him. You preen at his praise, smiling up at him.

“Open your mouth for me.” You comply immediately, pushing your tongue out and looking up at him with your softest eyes. He growls at you and pushes his dick inside your mouth. As soon as he’s all the way in, you groan and he pulls harder on your hair.

Game’s on.

He fucks your mouth at the speed of light, his hips moving so fast you are lost in the hypnotizing movement as you feel his cock slide in and out of your throat so fast you lost sense of anything around you. He stops every once in a while and lets you breathe, but it’s not nearly enough. “I wish you could see yourself right now, lips wrapped around my shaft, tears rolling down… You look beautiful.” Your brain is fuzzy by the time he cums down your throat. You think he’s going to stop, but he keeps fucking in and out of your open mouth as you choke lightly on him.

His cum tastes bitter in the back of your throat, but you barely register it before he’s coming again. “You look perfect like that. Open for me, dripping wet. Your mouth feels so good,” he praises. You groan around his shaft when he leans back and forces your legs open, slapping your pussy with his whole hand and making your eyes roll back into your skull. “That’s it. So wet for me, so needy. Yes. Good girl.” You groan around his shaft, his words turning you on even more. “I’m going to fuck you so many times you won’t know where my dick ends and your pussy begins. Do you want that?” He doesn’t let you answer, pushing his dick all the way down your throat again. “Of course you do. You are a naughty girl for me.” You groan around his erection, he keeps fucking your mouth restlessly, drool and tears mix on your face as he takes his pleasure out of you, his hand softly massaging your clit. It’s not nearly enough.

He comes down your throat again. “You took a few loads already, such a good girl for me.” He pulls out and you miss him already, your brain fuzzy with arousal. “I’m going to use your tight pussy now, do you want that?” You try to nod, but he grabs your hair again. “I don’t care. I’m going to fuck your wet hole either way and you are going to love it, aren’t you?” You whimper as he chuckles. He never acted so cruelly around you, but god goddess if it’s not doing it for you.

He moves as fast as lightning, pulling you up the bed and positioning his still hard dick over your opening. “Don’t forget to scream my name.” That’s the only warning you get before he’s fucking you faster and harder than a machine. Like the rabbit he is.

He cums so fast you can’t even process it. But he keeps going. That happens so many times you lost count of how many times he comes and you come. It’s like a never ending orgasm for both of you. It’s so good and so intense you start to lose your mind a little bit.

You don’t know how much time passes before your pussy feels overused, oversensitive. You can’t take it no more. “Stop, please, stop. I can’t…” You try to beg, tell him to stop, even use your mouth again if he wants to, but you need a breather. You need him to stop fucking your poor abused pussy. You feel so full with his come and so completely used, the pain and pleasure mix completely at every one of his thrusts.

He looks down at you and wipes away your tears with his thumbs, a tender gesture even though he doesn’t stop. “One more, baby, just one more.” You aren’t sure you can comply, you can’t even move anymore.

“I- I can’t,” you cry, so spent already. He keeps fucking in and out of you, coming every few minutes and filling you with a new load. His cum gushes around his shaft, there’s probably a mess under you, but he doesn’t seem to be thinking of stopping anytime soon.

“Yes, yes you can. You are doing so good for me.” You cry out his name as you come once more and look at him pleadingly to stop.

But he lied.

He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop for what feels like days but probably are just a dozen hours. You pass out at times, you cum so much you think you are going to die from it. But he keeps going. Fucking rabbit stamina.

Date a were-rabbit they say. He would be cute they say… But they don’t tell you about the frantic fucking. Or the nerve-rending stamina. Or the rut. Nobody tells you about their rut. And good Goddess you suffer from it… But you’d offer yourself to spend it with him again and again and again…

[verstappensrealwife]

No regrets - Oscar Piastri x Inexperienced!Fem!Reader

fluff, smut.

approx 1200 words

warnings: fem receiving: fingering and oral, p in v, loss of virginity, not proof read. Pussy and shaft….

based on this request :)

oscar piastri masterlist - here. f1 masterlist - here.

You never imagined losing your virginity to him.

He was your neighbor for goodness sake!

“Good morning!” He greeted each morning as you left your apartment at 8am sharp to head to work. You’d reply in kind and go on with your day, sometimes thinking to the cute boy across the hall.

Oscar, however, was not a morning person. He practically forced himself out of bed just to see you, speak to you, pretend to be going somewhere, then go back inside and chastise himself mentally for not even trying to ask you out.

One evening as you were coming home, he was leaving his apartment, and almost tripped over his feet when he saw you.

He was not prepared to speak to you. Each morning he’s silently sike himself up to utter two words. Now he was stuck in a situation: ignore you and pretend he didn’t just nearly fall straight into you, or mutter some words you probably won’t hear because of how quiet he would inevitably be.

“Hi,” You smiled as you pushed your key into your door.

“Hello.” He said back, not sure whether to walk away- very quickly- or stay and attempt to talk to you. It was the latter. “Sorry to be nosy but urm… well… I don’t think i actually know your name?”

“Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.” You replied, holding your hand out to him to shake. His hand felt more than limp in your grasp.

“Oscar… Piastri.”

“Nice to meet you, Oscar… Piastri.” you giggled, slightly making fun of his shy demeanour

He huffed a small laugh, “Sorry to be more nosy, but I don’t think I have your number either?” He tried… he really did. And he succeeded!

“Oh! Sure, yeah!” You passed him your phone, a small smile playing on your lips as you watched him press the digits into a new contact. “Well, I should be going, a girl needs to eat.”

“I- I mean you can eat with me…” He said, “I- that sounds weird- I- Do you wanna go on a date with me?”

That was the first of many dates he had invited you on. It became almost routine over the 2023 summer break for Oscar to take you out, every Friday evening, 7pm.

But by the end of August he had to of course go back to travelling the globe, racing cars.

The two of you stayed in touch, he gave you a key to his apartment to water his plants- of which only 2 were real. He routinely called you on a Friday night- unless team duties came upon him- to keep up with tradition.

But he grew tired of not being able to see you, physically.

The flight was long, and boring, but seeing Oscar as the first thing out the airport was more than exciting.He hugged you- longer than friends would hug- and led you by the small of your back to his car.

“To the hotel?” He asked you.

“Yes sir!” You smiled.

The hotel room you were put in was huge, the bed probably bigger than your kitchen at home.

Before you even touched your suitcase you fell, backwards, into the pristine white sheets of the hotel bed. Oscar falling in suit.

Lay next to eachother, you turned your head to see him already looking at you. He had a lovesick look in his eyes as he admired your face, eyes, lips. The more he stared at your lips, the more he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing them.

His body acted before his mind and he was kissing you before he knew it. You were a little taken aback but didn’t pull away- you didn’t want to.

Until he moved his hand from your face, to your waist, to the inside of your leg.

You jumped up quickly, almost headbutting him in the nose in the process.

He was more than swift to throw apologies at you, sorries and quick movement to the other side of the bed.

There was an uncomfortable silence which Oscar hated. He wanted to say something, anything, but no words could fix, what in his mind, was the most awkward encounter with a woman in his life.

“It’s not that I don’t want to…” You said quietly from the far side of the bed. He looked over at you, face flushed a light pink in embarrassment. “I– embarrassingly enough, im a virgin.”

He frowned confused. “Your a virgin? Like… never had sex… You?”

“Rub it in why dont you,” You laughed, “Why’s that so shocking?”

“Look at you! You’re like the most beautiful woman i’ve layed eyes on.” He wasn’t lying. “I thought men would be throwing themselves at you- I would.”

Now it was your turn to blush crimson, heat rising up your neck and across your face. You carefully shimmied towards him, holding his face gently. “If I’m gonna do it, I want it to be with you.”

That was all he needed to hear. He was on you like predator to prey, greedily kissing you, feeling your body needily. Until he went lower.

He was tentative, gentle in pushing his hands under the fabric of your underwear. Rubbing his finger up and down, smearing the wetness across your pussy. “Thats a good girl,” He said quietly. You weren’t meant to even hear him, but you did. And god, did it make you moan louder. He smirked at your visceral reaction. You heartbeat quickening as he pushed one finger, then two inside.

“See, no need to be nervous… Feels good, hm?”

You babbled some sort of response to him, a ‘yes’ somewhere in the jumble of the reply.

He pushed the clothes off of your bottom half completely, before moving to pull the shirt off your torso, unclipping your bra with ease and tossing it somewhere behind him. He was more than gentle as he kissed you, your neck, chest, stomach, thighs, and finally your clit.

He licked and sucked like there was no tomorrow. Indulging in the way your body reacted to him, to what he was doing to you, how he made you feel.

The first orgasm washed over you, legs shaking as he licked up everything. Climbing back up your body he was face to face, his mouth covered in a shine of liquid. “So, do you wanna do this. Really do it.”

You took a deep breath and nodded. He undressed, and kneeled between your legs, rolling a condom up the length of his shaft before positioning it infront of the entrance.

You took one final deep breath and he slowing pushed his hips towards your own. It hurt less than you had imagined- -but that didn’t take away from the fact it still stung.

He hadn’t moved in almost 2 minutes before you gave him the go ahead, pulling his hips back slowly and pushing them back towards you at the same pace. It hurt less as he carried on, eventually the sting turning to pleasure.

“Doing so- fuck- so well for me.” He groaned as he reached his peak slowly.

You could barely make words, so stuck to just moaning his name over and over again, whines of need flowing from your lips.

“Gonna cum, okay baby?”

You nodded quickly as he quickened his pace a little before his hips stuttered against yours before pulling out of you and immediately getting up. “I’ll be back- just need to clean you up.”

You never imagined losing your virginity to him.

But god, you didn’t regret it. Not one bit.

[cherrylovelycherry]

Hi! I wanted to say that I really love your writing, I spent hours binge reading without even noticing! I also love how creative your "menu" is. I wanted to ask if you take requests? If so, could I request a Boothill x Fem reader souffle? It can be any kind of plot or without plot at all. I just really like your writing and would like to see one of Boothill. Thank you so much for your time -anon

.note. hihi anon! aww it's nice that you like my writing, thanks! (ㅅ´ ˘ `) this took me a while, uni is being hard on me. sorry if there are any spelling mistakes, english is not my first language. anyway, i'm kicking my feet as i write this. i have the hc that boothill is sweet and gentle when it comes to intimacy, the complete opposite of his appearance, so yeah. hope you like it! ദ്ദി (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)~✧

𓂅new order. "soufflé and a éclair au chocolat."

You know what they say — save a horse, ride a cowboy!

pairing. Boothill x fem!reader cw/genre. nsfw, fluff, cunnilingus, blowjob, some praise kink, first time, mdni synopsis. you ended up fucking a cowboy full menu

You're were with Boothill this afternoon, as he was willing to give you lessons on horse riding after he realised how incredibly inexperienced you were.

You were lucky he taught you, though you assumed it would be his way of repaying the favors you did him, fixing and improving his robotic body countless times.

The countryside is just outside of the busy city, so, as somone who lived in the city, being with Boothill in the countryside was very different.

After an hour or two, you started to grow tired and Boothill noticed it. He offered for you to come to his house, or so you thought, since that was where he was staying for a while, instead of walking all the way back home in such a tired state. You nodded, exhuasted, just wanting to lay your head on a pillow.

As Boothill walks with you check your phone, and there's a message from your roommate asking where you were. You quickly text that you're staying at Boothill's for the night.

Another message appears, and when you open it, it says;

"You're staying with Boothill for the night?? OMG, you know what they say — save a horse, ride a cowboyyy!"

You felt the heat rise to your face almost instantly as you read the message. Which caused curiosity in him, approaching where you were.

"Hey, you ok? You're turning red, darlin'."

As if trying to see what the message was about, you moved your head to the side. Which ended up being for the fun of it as you quickly put your phone away.

The evening sun was already peeking out, being chased by the darkness of the night.

With somewhat quick steps, it managed to set before you, curiosity etched across his features, Boothill reached out to touch your cheek. "Seriously, you look like a ripe tomato. Did somethin' happen?"

Your heart skipped a beat as his fingers slowly touched your cheek. You took a shaky breath as his hand continued to touch your face.

You quickly looked away, trying to avoid his gaze.

"I'm fine, just tired. That's all," you said quietly, trying to sound convincing.

The feeling of his hand on your skin sent chills down your spine, reminding you of the message your roommate sent.

You let go of his grip, as you both continued walking.

Was it possible that…he was thinking the same thing?

You shook your head slightly at the thought.

"Just my stupid roommate making a dumb joke." You tried to laugh it off, but even you could hear how forced it sounded.

Boothill continued to watch you intently, his eyes lingering on your face for a moment longer before he spoke.

"Darlin', I can tell when you're lyin'. You're makin' it kinda obvious," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Hah, right, whatever you say." You scratched your cheek with your hand, hurrying your pace.

He merely laughed lightly at your response.

You both walked towards where Boothill was staying, it was a somewhat remote house, but it was in the city.

The house was somewhat large, the owner of which was a grandmother, who Boothill had once saved. She was extremely sweet to let him stay there if he needed it.

As you arrived at the house, you noticed how the sky had darkened even more, the stars slowly appearing as the night settled in.

As you both reached the house, Boothill unlocked the front door. It creaked open, and he stepped back to let you walk in first.

With a muttered "thank you", you entered the house. It was cozy and comfortable, a warm place that seemed to radiate with a hint of nostalgia.

Boothill closed the door behind him and led you into the living room.

"Make yourself at home darlin' I'll go and let her know I've brought you with me," he said before disappearing into the hallway.

You took a seat on the couch in the living room, and as soon as your butt met the cushion, you felt your phone vibrate.

Another message… probably from your roommate.

You fished your phone out of your pocket and quickly unlocked it, curiosity getting the better of you.

Sure enough, it was another message from your roommate, still riding the horse/cowboy joke.

This time, she sent a gif of a cowboy riding a horse, with the message; "Yee-haw! Ride that cowboy, babe! 😉"

You couldn't help but sigh, feeling a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment. And even some amusement at the gif she sent. Your roommate was way too invested in your supposed "crush" on Boothill.

You groaned inwardly Great. It was never going to end. Your roommate was going to make this into a running joke for months, maybe even until the end of time.

Your irritation was interrupted as you heard footsteps approaching from the hallway.

Boothill appeared a moment later, walking back into the living room. He took a seat on the opposite side of the couch, still maintaining a respectable distance from you.

"She's just glad I'm finally bringin' someone here," he chuckled, referring to the house's owner.

He leaned back into the couch, his eyes still fixed on your form. There was a small smile on his face.

You shifted in your seat, feeling a mix of embarrassment and warmth at his words.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure she's had to deal with your antics for a while now," you quipped, trying to sound lighthearted.

Boothill let out a mocking gasp, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense.

"Excuse me? Are you implyin' that I'm a troublesome guest? Me? A perfect gentleman?"

You rolled your eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"Oh yes, the perfect gentleman," you said, sarcasm dripping from your tone.

He feigned an expression of innocence.

"I'll have you know, I am a model guest. I make sure to clean up after myself, respect the property, and always ask for permission before snackin' on somethin'."

You couldn't help but laugh at his attempts to defend himself.

"Right, because asking for permission to raid the fridge is the epitome of good manners," you teased, raising an eyebrow. "And let's not forget the time you accidentally broke a vase and tried to mend it with duct tape."

He fakely frowned a little.

"Hey, I still stand by that duct tape solution. It looked pretty darn good once I was done with it," he chuckled, a hint of guilt in his voice.

You shook your head, still amused.

"You're lucky the house's owner has a soft spot for you. Otherwise she wouldn't let you stay here any longer."

He shrugged, a cheeky grin spreading across his face.

"What can I say? I'm irresistibly charmin'."

He stretched lazily, his metal arms extending with a soft whir.

"But seriously, she knows I ain't cause no real trouble. And besides, I keep the spiders away for her," he added with a wink.

You snickered. "Ah, yes, the dutiful bodyguard against the eight-legged critters. She must be so thankful for your bravery."

He laughed, clearly enjoying the playful banter.

"You laugh now, but when you have a spider the size of your hand crawlin' up your leg, you'll be beggin' for my services," he teased.

"Please, like I'd ever let it come to that," you retorted. "I'd fight that spider off with a rolled-up newspaper if I had to."

He chuckled again. "Oh, I don't doubt that for a second darlin'. You ain't afraid of much, are you?"

The lighthearted atmosphere was refreshing, and you found yourself enjoying the exchange.

"Heh, I guess not."

You put a lock of your hair behind your ear, while Boothill turned on the medium-sized television in the room. The fireplace made the cold outside not felt at all.

The soft glow of the television filled the room, casting shadows on the walls.

Boothill grabbed the remote and started flicking through the channels, looking for something to watch.

"Anythin' ya want to watch?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the TV.

You tilted your head, pretending to think for a moment before answering.

"How about a cowboy movie?" you suggested, a teasing tone in your voice.

"Hah! A good one then."

As you glanced at Boothill, you noticed the way the light reflected in his eyes, their artificial luminescence dancing with the flicker of the screen.

"You hungry? I can whip somethin' up for ya in the kitchen," he offered, his voice still carrying a hint of humor.

You considered his offer.

"Nah, I'm alright," you replied, your attention half-focused on the TV.

The more time passed, the more interesting the movie became. You both let out one or another comment about this. Until you and him were silent.

He leaned back against the couch, his metal arm resting along the back. Despite his mechanical parts, he still managed to exude a sense of comfortable familiarity.

His gaze flicked away from the television, locking onto yours.

"You okay, darlin'? You're a little quieter than usual."

You were caught off guard for a moment, surprised by his perceptive question.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you answered, a little too quickly. Lie, you were falling asleep.

The truth was, you were fighting the urge to yawn.

"I'm just a lil tired ," you added, trying to sound nonchalant. Another lie, your whole body hurt from the physical exercise you were doing earlier in the field with Boothill.

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in his gaze.

"Uh-huh, 'a little tired,' ya say," he said, clearly not buying your act.

He leaned forward a bit, studying your face.

"Your eyes are heavy, and you're yawnin' more than a kitten."

He thought for a second before placing a cushion from the couch, which they were sitting on, over his legs.

"Here." He said, patting the cushion a few times, so you could lay your head there.

"Are you calling me a tired kitten?" you protested, unable to stop a small yawn from escaping your lips as you spoke, proving his point.

Your eyes widened slightly as he patted the cushion on his lap, offering it to you like some kind of makeshift pillow.

Your heart skipped a beat, the situation feeling suddenly more intimate.

But your body yearned for rest, your tired muscles calling out for a moment of peace.

He smirked, clearly amused by your tired protest.

"I dunno, if the shoe fits…" he joked, his gaze still fixed on you.

As you hesitated, hesitating to accept the offer, your tired body won out over your embarrassment.

With a defeated sigh, you slowly leaned down, resting your head on the pillow of the cushion, now laying across his lap.

Your heartbeat quickened as you felt the firm but gentle support of his thighs beneath you.

He chuckled softly as he noticed your hesitation, but allowed you to lean down and rest your head on his lap.

"There you go, darlin'," he murmured as you settled into the makeshift pillow.

A small, satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Boothill remained silent for a moment, observing your tired state.

"Comfy?" he asked finally, his voice a low rumble.

"Mhm." You let out an affirmation towards his words.

You closed your eyes, surrendering to the exhaustion that tugged at your eyelids.

The sound of the movie in the background faded away, replaced by the steady rhythm of his breathing.

For a moment, there was a silence between you, but it wasn't uncomfortable.

Instead, it felt soothing.

He watched you closely as you let your guard down, your eyes slowly drifting closed.

With each breath you took, your body seemed to relax further, almost melting into his lap.

Boothill's metal fingers gently traced the outline of your hair, almost on instinct, as if seeking to provide some kind of comfort.

A soft, almost silent chuckle passed his lips as he noticed your tired state.

You felt your body relax as tension drained from your muscles, the weight of the day's physicality finally catching up to you.

Boothill seemed content to remain silent, allowing you to rest in comfortable respite.

Your mind started to wander, thoughts blending together seamlessly. You felt strangely at peace in this position - head resting on his lap, his metal fingers brushing against your hair, the sounds of the movie like a distant hum.

You felt utterly at ease, your tired body finally getting the rest it desperately craved.

Boothill's presence was both comforting and grounding, his touch a constant reminder of his attentiveness towards you.

Your thoughts gradually faded into weary tiredness, your mind struggling to stay awake longer.

You found yourself drifting on the edge of sleep.

He continued idly running his metal fingers through your hair, a soothing rhythm that seemed almost designed to lull you deeper into relaxation.

As your breathing slowed, growing more rhythmic and steady, he could tell that you were moments away from drifting off to sleep.

His eyes never left your face, taking in your relaxed expression and the soft curves of your features.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. There was a certain satisfaction in seeing you at peace, especially after a long day.

You felt his fingers running through your hair once more before you fell completely asleep.

Your mind slowly slipped away from consciousness, and the world around you faded into a drowsy haze.

You don't know how much time passed, but you slowly opened your eyes, keeping them half-lidded.

You weren't touching the couch and you felt like they were grabbing you.

Oh, you were being carried.

Keeping your eyes the same way, you looked up, watching as he was carrying you up the stairs.

You felt like in those princess stories in which the prince carefully carries the princess.

As he carried you up the stairs, his grip firm and gentle around you, he took note of your half-lidded eyes slowly fluttering open.

He chuckled softly as he caught your gaze, realizing you were half-awake.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," he teased quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

He continued up the stairs, navigating carefully to not accidentally hit your head or anything else.

"Go back to sleep, dear"

He was taking you to a spare room so that you could sleep more comfortably.

Even in your semi-asleep state, you heard the soft rumble of his voice, the sound soothing your tired mind.

A small, sleepy smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you heard him call you "sleepyhead." It was a nickname you hadn't heard from him before.

He carried you gently upstairs, the sound of his footsteps on the hardwood floor blending with the silence of the house. You kept your eyes half-open, still disoriented and groggy.

"Mmph…" you managed to mumble in response, your drowsy brain struggling to form coherent words.

He chuckled at your sleepy attempt at a response, finding your disoriented state endlessly endearing.

"Shhh," he whispered, his metal fingers gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

"You're barely awake, darlin'. Just go back to sleep, we're almost in the guest room."

The soft hallway lights cast long shadows ahead of him, dancing softly against the walls as he continued on.

Finally reaching the spare room, he carefully pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Gently, he laid you down on the bed, tucking the blankets around you like he was handling a delicate artifact.

As you were gently lowered onto the bed, the soft sheets and blankets wrapping around you like a comforting embrace, your body automatically snuggled into their embrace.

A small, satisfied sigh escaped your lips as your tired muscles sink against the mattress.

The cool sheets felt soothing against your skin as you slowly settled into the bed, still in a half-asleep state.

You felt his touch once more as he carefully adjusted the blankets, ensuring you were tucked in properly.

"There we go," he murmured, his voice low and almost soothing.

As you were laid on the soft mattress, the blankets wrapping around you like a cosy cocoon, you felt the exhaustion fully taking over again.

Your tired mind was too drowsy to think clearly, your eyelids feeling heavy once more.

You vaguely registered his movements around you as he seemed to be adjusting something near the bed.

"…Boothill?" you mumbled his name, your voice still thick with sleepiness.

He paused, looking down at you with a hint of surprise at the sound of his name.

"Yeah, darlin'?" he replied quietly, his voice a gentle rumble.

He finished adjusting the blanket, ensuring you were completely covered and tucked in.

He then leaned closer to the bed, his eyes studying your sleepy face for a moment, before a soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"You need somethin', or are you just makin' sure I'm still here?" he teased gently.

Your sleepy brain struggled to form coherent thoughts, the drowsiness making it difficult to string words together.

"Mmph… jus' makin' sure…" you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

You felt strangely vulnerable in this half-asleep state, the tiredness leaving you without the usual guard you had up.

The room was quiet, the only sound being the soft rustling of the blankets as you shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable.

You could feel his presence close to the bed, his eyes still fixed on you.

Literally the idea of what you were going to try to say left you. So you frowned, keeping your eyes closed.

Until you managed to remember something, "The girl who is with you will be…very, veeery luckyy,"

He raised an eyebrow at your drowsy mumble, his grin widening slightly.

"Is that so?" he murmured, his voice soft and amused.

When you mentioned the hypothetical luck of his future girlfriend, his gaze softened, a hint of something unreadable in his expression.

He chuckled lightly, shaking his head slightly. "You're still dreamin', darlin'."

He reached out, his metal fingertips lightly running through your hair once more, a soothing gesture.

He stood silently nearby, watching you as you fought against the fog of sleep.

As you mumbled something about the girl he might date, his expression softened even further. He couldn't help but find your sleepy ramblings both amusing and endearing.

You hummed with pleasure as you felt his metal fingertips gently run through your hair once more, the sensation sending a soothing wave through your tired body.

Your eyes remained closed, too heavy to open, and yet some part of your tired mind stubbornly held on to consciousness.

"Mm…not dreamin'…jus' sayin'…" you protested, your words slurring together slightly.

Your mouth attempted to form more words, but fatigue weighed heavily on your tongue, making it difficult to speak clearly.

"Lucky…" you mumbled once more, the word sounding more like a sigh than anything else.

He chuckled softly beside you, his voice filled with a mixture of amusement and something else you couldn't quite place.

"…Darlin', you're not exactly makin' sense," he teased, his tone warm and affectionate.

He continued to run his mechanical fingers through your hair, the soothing motion seemed to melt away any tension still lingering in your body.

As you mumbled about luck and being lucky, he chuckled again, the sound low and gentle.

Your words came out alone, almost like a yawn that couldn't be stopped. "C'mere…" You said, as you looked at him, you opened your eyes a little this time.

His hand paused in your hair, caught off guard by your request.

He looked at you, your half-open eyes peering up at him through the haze of sleep.

A mix of surprise and amusement played across his face. "You want me to come closer?" he asked, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

He stood there for a moment, as if trying to decipher your sleepy request, before moving closer to the bed.

“Mhm,” You blurted out, affirming his words.

His eyes scanned your face, taking in your half-open eyes and the sleepy smile on your lips.

"You're a bossy little thing, even when you're half-asleep," he said with a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight.

He leaned over slightly, his metal hand still resting on your hair, gently smoothing out the messy strands.

By the time he got close enough, your body acted on its own.

"Lucky.." You murmured as you grabbed his face with both hands and placed your lips on top of his, quickly but softly.

Caught off guard by your unexpected move, his eyes widened slightly when he felt the softness of your lips against his. For a moment, he froze, his brain trying to comprehend what was happening.

But it didn't take long for him to respond. His hand on your hair slid down to your cheek, the coolness of his metal fingers contrasting with the warmth of your skin.

He returned the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a gentleness that contradicted his cybernetic appearance.

After a few seconds, he pulled away slightly, "Darlin', you're gonna be the death of me…" he murmured

As you felt his response, his cool fingers contrasting with the warmth of your skin, you couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction.

You leaned into his touch, your eyes still closed, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips.

Your tired mind was still in a sleepy haze, but the kiss seemed to awaken a different kind of energy within you. You let out a sleepy giggle at his words, your eyes still half-lidded.

“You’re a little too cheeky when you’re sleepy," he admonished, a hint of amusement in his tone. "You're gonna give a cowboy a heart attack."

It was a nice way to put it since he physically had no heart.

His eyes tracing the curve of your smile on your lips. Your tiredness seemed to fuel a playful energy within you, making you even more endearing in his eyes.

He shifted his position slightly, his body now facing you fully, one knee on the bed. His metal hand cupped your chin, tilting your face up towards him as he leaned in slightly.

"And here I am, trying to be all gentlemanly and let you get some sleep," he teased, his voice low and full of mock reproach.

A sly smile tugged at the corners of your lips, the drowsy state making you even more cheeky than usual. Besides, despite being tired, your consciousness was more exact. You were leaving the state of drowsiness.

"Gentlemanly, huh?" you mumbled, your words still slightly slurred by sleepiness.

You pushed yourself up on one elbow, leaning towards him as much as your tired body would allow. "That's cute," You commented, your other hand reaching out to touch his chest.

You chuckled softly, "Besides, whose fault is it for being so irresistibly kissable?" you retorted.

You liked to see how his face turned slightly red, being visible only by the night light that came through the window.

You were enjoying the unexpected turn of events, the boundaries between friendship and something else starting to blur.

His eyes widened slightly at your words, the compliment catching him off guard.

He watched intently as you leaned forward, your touch against his chest igniting a spark under his metal skin.

Thanks to you, who had been able to connect and 'create' new nerves that would be connected to his robotic parts, managing to have at least a slight sensation of touch in his body.

His eyes flicked down to your hand before returning to meet your gaze, his expression a mix of amusement and something else he couldn't quite hide.

Your words had found their mark, and he couldn't deny the reaction they provoked. Despite his usual confidence, there was something about your sleepy flirtations that had him uncharacteristically flustered.

He swallowed hard, trying to maintain his usual cool demeanor, but a hint of a blush betrayed his reaction.

He leaned in closer, his body nearly hovering over yours as you leaned up on your elbow. His metal hand moved from your chin to the back of your neck, his fingers tracing circles on your skin.

Your senses seemed hyper-aware in this exhausted state, and the feeling of his metal fingers tracing circles on the back of your neck sent a shiver down your spine.

The way he loomed over you, his body hovering just above yours, made your heartbeat quicken. There was a sudden tension in the air, a subtle shift in the dynamics of your relationship.

You looked up at him, your eyes no longer had that flash of tiredness.

He could see the change in your eyes, the drowsiness slowly giving way to a sharper focus. A silent understanding seemed to pass between you both; the tiredness had faded, replaced by a different kind of awareness.

He leaned in even closer, his face now only inches away from yours. His eyes held a mixture of curiosity and barely concealed desire, studying your features as if seeing you in a new light.

The air thick with an unspoken tension. Your skin tingled where his metal fingers touched your neck, a mix of cool certainty and unexpected delicacy.

"You're awake now, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice lower than usual, hinting at the effect you were having on him.

His fingers continued their gentle dance along the back of your neck. He seemed to be wrestling with something, caught between his customary charm and the unfamiliar surge of vulnerability.

Your lips parted slightly, the proximity making it difficult to focus on anything but him.

His eyes were searching yours, studying every detail as if trying to memorize each inch of your face. His gaze remained fixed on you, watching how your eyes responded to his closeness.

But, oh, he was holding back, there was an evident hunger within him.

A hunger he never thought he wanted, specifically from you.

He saw your reaction, the slight intake of breath, the way your lips parted slightly.

His mind was hazy with a million thoughts, all centered on you and how much he wanted to close the remaining space between you.

His metal fingers moved up from your neck, tracing a path along your jawline before gently brushing against your bottom lip.

"Tell me to stop," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath hitched slightly at his touch, the feeling of his metal fingers on your lip setting your nerves alight.

His voice was soft but laced with a barely restrained intensity. He was struggling with his own desires, trying to hold back but also aching for more.

You hesitated for a moment, caught between wanting to give in to the budding intimacy and fearing the consequences.

Your eyes met his, searching his gaze for any hint of insecurity or doubt. But the desire in his eyes made it clear that this was not a whim or a passing fancy for him.

"But I don't want you to stop," You responded also quietly. Your eyes left his for a moment, looking down at his lips.

Your words were like music to his ears, banishing the last remnants of his hesitation.

His breath hitched slightly as your eyes drifted to his lips, the silent desire in your gaze mirroring his own.

His hand shifted, moving to cradle your face, his thumb resting just under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

And, with just a nod from you, he couldn't help it anymore.

Being careful not to hurt you, he somewhat carelessly brought his lips to yours, pressing them with need.

Your confirmation was all he needed.

The moment your heads met, there was an explosion of sensation. He deepened the kiss, his other hand gripping your waist, drawing you closer to him. His body pressed against yours, the coolness of his metal chest contrasting with the warmth of your skin.

His tongue eagerly explored your lips, seeking access to your mouth, a silent plea for more, for more of you.

There was a certain urgency in his actions, a hunger you could practically taste in the way he held you, the way his tongue moved against yours.

As his tongue sought entry into your mouth, you didn't hesitate to respond in kind.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer, needing to feel more of him against you.

His hands roamed restlessly over your body, as if trying to memorize every inch of your skin through your clothes. He needed to feel every part of you, as if the physical contact could quench the hunger burning within him.

The kiss grew more urgent, more demanding. His cool metal fingers gripped your waist, holding you tightly as he pressed you further into the mattress.

His tongue danced with yours, a silent battle for control, each movement charged with raw desire. There was a hint of something wild in his demeanor, the usually controlled cowboy succumbing to his most primal instincts.

He groaned softly into the kiss as your hands tangled in his hair, the feeling both pleasurable and arousing.

Your body responded eagerly to his touch, arching against him in a silent plea for more.

His hands explored your body, tracing the contour of your curves, the cool metal of his fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He broke the kiss, his lips moving to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle nibbles along your sensitive skin.

"You drive me crazy," he murmured against your neck, his voice hoarse with desire.

A gasp escaped your lips as he moved from your mouth to your neck, his teeth grazing against the sensitive skin.

Heat pooled in your core, his words and actions igniting a fire within you.

Your fingers gently tugged at his hair, a silent signal urging him on. A soft moan escaped from your throat as he bit down lightly on a particularly sensitive spot.

"You have… no idea," you managed to gasp out, your voice shaky with need.

He hummed against your skin, the sound vibrating along your sensitive skin.

Your gasps and slight moans only fueled his desire, the sound of your voice shivering with need causing a shiver to run down his system.

His hands roamed over your body, tracing every curve, as if mapping out a territory he now desperately wished to claim as his own.

He smirked slightly against your neck, his lips leaving a trail of kisses that were slowly moving down to your collarbone.

"Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea," he retorted, his voice carrying a low, sultry tone.

His hands moved lower, resting on your hips, gently guiding your body against his.

His smirk against your neck sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel the heat of your desire growing with each passing moment.

His hands roaming over your body and his lips tracing a path down your collarbone added fuel to the flame.

You tilted your head back, giving him better access to your neck. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling slightly as he continued his assault on your skin.

"Boothill…" you whispered, his name sounding like a prayer tumbling off your lips.

Your whispered plea, his name falling from your lips like a litany, sent a shock through his system.

He paused his ministrations for a moment, lifting his head to look at you.

Your eyes were half-lidded, your cheeks flushed, and your hair slightly disheveled. You looked utterly captivating in that moment, your desire for him written all over your face.

His hands left your body, this time heading to your shirt.

I was about to roll it up until his brain made him stop for a moment.

"Do you want…to do it?" He dared to ask you, seeking your consent. His eyes boring into yours gently.

You met his eyes, seeing the mixture of desire and restraint in his gaze.

Your breath still slightly ragged, you nodded slowly.

"Yes," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want this. I want you."

As he pulled your shirt off, his hands skimmed over your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

He paused for a moment, taking in the sight of you, partially undressed before him.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, his eyes roaming over your body, his gaze filled with a mixture of desire and admiration.

His words, a simple compliment carrying more weight than usual, caused your heart to skip a beat.

His eyes trailed over your body, taking in every detail as if you were a masterpiece hanging in a gallery.

The way he looked at you, with a mixture of desire and admiration, made you feel both vulnerable and powerful at the same time.

His eyes were fixed on you, taking in every inch of your exposed skin.

"You're perfect," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

He leaned down, his lips finding your neck, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses along your collarbone and down your chest. Finding your bra very annoying.

The combination of his touch, his kisses, and his words made you feel like you were slowly unraveling.

His mouth trailing along your skin was driving you insane with need and desire.

His lips trailed down your neck and down your chest until they reached the barrier of your bra. He paused for a moment, his hands gently tracing the edge.

"Can I?" he asked quietly, his fingertips brushing against the fabric.

The way he was handling you, with a mixture of reverence and desire, made you feel both cherished and desired.

His lips returned to your neck, leaving soft, teasing kisses as he waited for your response.

As his fingertips traced the edge of your bra, your heart pounded in anticipation, your body aching for more of his touch.

His request, whispered in a soft, hoarse voice, set your nerves on fire.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper, "Yes,"

He didn't need further coaxing. His hands quickly unclasped your bra, freeing your chest from its confinement.

His lips continued their journey, leaving a trail of kisses down your newly bared skin. He seemed to savor every inch of you, as if unable to get enough.

The feeling of his lips on your bare skin was nothing short of maddening.

His hands, now free from the barrier of your bra, roamed freely over your torso, as if he were mapping a new territory.

His hands instinctively went to your breasts, massaging them slowly and gently, touching the tips of your breasts. Causing you to flinch at the coolness of his fingers.

Without further ado, his mouth moved to one of your breasts, his other hand touching the other.

He sucked and nibbled gently, drawing a gasp from your lips.

His mouth on your sensitive skin sent a shiver down your spine, your breath catching as his tongue flicked against one of your nipples.

Your hands tangled in his hair, holding him close, your fingers clenching tightly as he continued his ministrations.

You gasped, arching your back towards him, silently pleading for more of his touch.

His hands continued to explore your body, his touch firm yet gentle, as if trying to memorize every contour.

His fingers traced circles over your hip bone, then moved lower, slipping under the waistband of your pants.

This time he didn't ask, he raised his head and looked at you, with those eyes full of pleading.

Oh, that look you never thought you'd see in him.

The look in his eyes was one you never thought you'd notice coming from him.

It was a silent plea, a silent "Let me take care of you."

Hearing your gasps and slight moans, he wondered why it had taken him so long to cross this line with you.

You could feel the desire growing inside you, a burning need for more contact, more of him.

You raised your hips, silently giving him permission to remove your pants, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

Slowly, he slid your pants down along with underwear in one go, his hands skimming over your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You could feel his eyes on you, taking in every inch of your exposed body.

He ran his hands gently down your thighs.

Now you were completely naked in front of him, your body on display, vulnerable and exposed.

His gaze roamed over your body, taking in the sight of you in all your glory.

In his eyes you were the most perfect thing that could exist, a goddess, an angel come down from the heavens.

"Beautiful," he whispered, his voice filled with reverence and desire.

He leaned down again, pressing his lips against your stomach, leaving a trail of kisses. Then, he pressed light kisses on your legs, moving closer and closer to where you needed him the most.

Your body was aflame with desire, every touch of his sending your senses into overdrive.

Your legs opened slightly, inviting him closer, silently pleading for more of his touch.

His lips moved over your skin, his kisses growing more insistent as he made his way to the inner part of your thighs.

"Please," you managed to gasp out, desperate for him to touch you where you needed him most.

He chuckled softly against your skin, enjoying the fact that he had you completely at his mercy.

His chuckling set your blood boiling, your body arching towards him in a silent plea.

He knew what you wanted, what you needed, and he was enjoying every second of it.

"Patience, darlin'," he drawled, his lips trailing along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

He was taking his time, teasing you, drawing out the pleasure, and driving you insane in the process.

He continued his assault on your inner thighs, leaving gentle bites and kisses, slowly moving closer to your center.

His hands were now firmly gripping your hips, holding you in place, preventing you from bucking up against him in a plea for more contact.

Until after that little torture of his, his lips hovered over your aching center, kissing above your lips, softly and gently.

You were a wreck.

Your body ached for more contact, more of him, and he was purposely taking his time.

Instead, he began to trace small, feather light kisses around your aching core, his lips moving slowly but purposefully, avoiding the place you wanted them most.

You gasped again, barely managing to hold back a whine in protest.

"Please," you repeated, your voice a desperate plea, "Please, Boothill."

He chuckled against your skin again, enjoying the way your body responded to his every touch.

When he finally moved his lips to your center, his tongue lightly flicking against your sensitive bud, you gasped loudly, a shiver running down your spine.

His tongue started to explore your most sensitive parts, flicking and swirling gently, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Your head fell back against the pillows, your eyes closing as you surrendered to the sensations he was creating.

His tongue's teasing touch against your center sent sparks of pleasure through your body, your breath caught in your throat.

Your hands tangled in his hair again, pulling slightly as he continued to explore you. "So beautiful and sweet," he murmured against your skin, the vibration of his voice adding to the sensations he was causing.

He wrapped his lips around your clit, gently sucking and nibbling, driving you even further into frenzy.

Then, his fingers entered the equation, slowly slipping inside you while his mouth continued to work its magic.

Your body trembled, the combined sensations overwhelming your senses.

You were at his mercy, your body completely under his control, writhing and gasping under his expert ministrations.

His fingers moved inside you, curling and stroking, while his tongue continued to flick against your sensitive bud.

The sensations were quickly building toward a climax, your breath coming in quick gasps as you tried to hold back.

"Boothill.. I can't.. too much.." you managed to gasp out, your body arching off the bed.

He seemed to know exactly how to push your buttons, his mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony to elicit the most intense reactions from you.

You couldn't think straight, his touch sending you into a state of ecstasy that was almost overwhelming.

Your body was caught in a tempest of pleasure, every touch of his tongue and fingers driving you closer to the brink.

His fingers curled inside you, hitting a particularly sensitive spot that made your breathing grow ragged.

It looked like he was licking and eating a candy.

Your fingers gripped in his hair, tugging slightly as the pleasure built within you.

"Oh god," you breathed, your voice a ragged gasp, "Please, I-"

Then, suddenly, he stopped, drawing back just as you were about to reach your climax.

You let out a gasp of frustration, your body aching for release.

"Not yet, darlin'," he murmured against your skin, his lips leaving a trail of kisses along your inner thigh.

At the lack of his lips and tongue on your clitoris, you felt a slight breeze that made you shiver. Not to mention how you felt it pulsating.

His free hand gently massaged your hip, as if trying to reassure you.

Your body was taut like a bowstring, the sudden lack of stimulation leaving you feeling empty and needy.

He slid his fingers out of you, stretching them a little, watching as your juices covered them completely, almost spilling out.

He let out a light chuckle, before bringing his fingers to his mouth, drinking in your delicacy.

Your view, which was clouded with ecstasy, focusing on the scene of him sucking on his fingers, was completely provocative.

It was all too obvious that he was more than needy.

Your breathing grew ragged as you watched him suck on his fingers, your eyes wide.

The sight of him enjoying the taste of you was almost too much to bear.

"You taste so good, darlin'," he murmured, his voice thick with desire, "I could do this all night."

When his eyes met yours, that's when you realised.

You had been so focused on your release that you hadn't realised how much he wanted this.

His face flushed, his lips moist.

Oh, he looked so damn needy.

He looked completely undone, like he was restraining himself from taking you right there on the spot.

He was tense, as if he was holding himself back.

Your skin thrumed under his hot gaze, and you could see the way his body reacted to the sight of you sprawled out before him.

It was the cutest thing to see him like that.

You rose slightly from the bed, pushing his chest back now, almost to where you were lying before.

You knew it was now your turn to make him feel good. More than he was.

As you gently pushed him back, reversing your positions, he let out a low growl, but he didn't protest.

He leaned against the wall, watching you with a mixture of curiosity and desire.

He looked absolutely wrecked.

His hair disheveled from your hands, his face flushed, his body thruming with need.

All that for you.

You straddled his hips, sitting on top of him and relishing the position of power you suddenly found yourself in.

Your hands roamed over his chest and bare torso, feeling the firm metal muscles. You could feel the heat radiating off him. His systems were beginning to overheat.

You leaned down, peppering kisses along his neck and jawline, enjoying the way he responded to your touch.

He leaned his head back against the wall, exposing more of his neck to your touch, a low, guttural groan escaping from his throat as your lips and tongue traced a path along his sensitive skin.

His hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as you kissed along his neck and jaw.

He let out a low moan when you nibbled on his earlobe.

He was coming to terms with the new sensation of being underneath you.

He was used to taking charge in many situations, but something about letting you take the lead seemed different.

He liked it.

He needed it.

His moans and groans were music to your ears, showing you how much he was enjoying your touches.

His breath was becoming ragged, and his hands held onto your hips tightly, as if anchoring himself.

"Darlin'," he gasped out, his eyes half-lidded as he looked at you.

Your hands began to wander lower, tracing the line of his abdomen and feeling the metal muscles twitch under your touch.

As your hands reached the waistband of his pants, you paused and looked up at him.

"Can I?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded eagerly, his eyes dark with desire.

He was more than willing to let you continue.

His eyes were dark with desire, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps, and his body was taut with tension.

"Yes," he managed to say, his voice thick with need, "Please."

You tugged on the waistband of his trousers, and he lifted his hips to help you pull them down.

He was begging you, and he didn't care.

As you slid them down his legs, you couldn't help but notice the evidence of his arousal straining against his boxers.

Oh, you forgot that could happen.

You remember that at his request, you made a modification to his robotic body.

Specifically a synthetic limb.

It was one of your best modifications as it was also connected to the nerves that you also gave him. Not to say that his blue blood would help bring it to life when he had to go into action.

You didn't really think you could test if it really worked.

Would you be the first to see if it worked properly? You didn't know.

You hadn't really thought much about it before. After all, it was just a standard modification that you had done. But now, as you saw the physical evidence of his arousal, you couldn't help but wonder if it would work as intended.

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted when he groaned loudly, drawing your attention back to him.

You had started touching his length over his underwear without even realising it.

With just the touch of you, you were surprised to feel the slight warmth that came from it.

He inhaled sharply at the touch, his body tensing even more.

"Please," he repeated, his voice hoarse, "I need you. I need you so bad."

You smiled at their pleas, apparently it was a very good idea to amplify the sensitivity around the area.

He was already a mess, and you had barely touched him yet.

His gasps and moans filled the room, and his eyes were dark with desire.

You could see how badly he needed you, how much he wanted you.

He was begging you, pleading with you to touch him more.

You looked down at the noticeable bulge in his boxers and then back up at his face.

"You're so beautiful," you murmured, "So needy."

He let out another gasp, his body arching towards you as you continued to touch him through the fabric.

After a while of appreciating the good view you had, you pulled down his underwear, revealing his length.

His breath hitched as you pulled his underwear down, exposing him to your view.

He felt so vulnerable, so exposed, but he didn't care.

"Oh god," you blurted out at the sight of his limb.

At first glance you could tell it was working properly.

You were kind of proud of it.

He shuddered at your words, the sensation of your eyes on him enough to make his body shiver.

He was so sensitive, so receptive to your every touch, and it was all thanks to your modifications.

You moved down towards his arousal, cupping it with your hands and releasing light kisses that went from base to tip.

He let out a guttural moan as you kissed him, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through his body.

Your touch was light and teasing, driving him wild with need.

"Oh, sweetheart, that's so good," he gasped out, his body arching towards you as you continued to touch and tease him.

He was putty in your hands, completely at your mercy.

He had never felt this way before, completely surrendered to another person.

And he loved every second of it.

He looked down at you, his gaze full of desire and need.

Without waiting too long, you licked his tip, without taking your eyes off his face.

You were beginning to like the way he was moving beneath you.

He groaned loudly at the feeling of your tongue on his tip, his body arching slightly off the bed.

He couldn't believe the feelings you were invoking in him.

He felt like he was on fire.

He needed more your mouth, more of your touch, more of you.

He reached down, tangling his fingers in your hair, trying to hold himself.

To that, you smiled.

And, without further delay, you shoved as much of his length as you could into your mouth.

His entire body trembled as you took him into your mouth.

He could barely believe how good it felt, how good you felt.

"Oh god," he gasped out, his grip on your hair tightening.

He was completely lost in the sensations you were giving him, unable to think clearly.

He felt like he was on the brink of explosion, barely holding on.

Your mouth felt like heaven against him.

You continued, lowering and raising your head, while also moving your hands up and down his length.

You looked up at him from time to time, just to watch him come completely undone.

His face was flushed, his eyes half-lidded, his mouth open and panting.

His breathing was ragged, and he was making little gasps and moans that sounded like a mixture of your name and incoherent praise.

He was a mess, and it was all your doing.

He was completely under your control, and he loved every second of it.

His breaths were coming in short, ragged gasps, and he was clinging onto you like a lifeline.

His body was trembling, his systems threatening to overheat.

"I'm close," he gasped out, his grip on your hair tightening even more.

He was teetering on the edge, completely at your mercy.

"Please," he panted, "Please don't stop."

You loved the way he was begging you, the way he was completely at your mercy.

You didn't stop, if anything you increased the pace, determined to push him over the edge.

His grip on you grew tighter as he got closer and closer to the brink.

"Oh, swetheart," he groaned, his voice thick with need, "I can't- I'm gonna-"

And, before I reached my limit, your movements stopped, ceasing to suck his length.

You laughed lightly, catching your breath for a moment as you watched him frown in frustration.

He stared at you, his body still shaking with need, his breathing ragged.

He looked completely wrecked, and he was not happy that you had stopped.

"Why'd you stop?" he gasped out, his voice full of frustration and need.

He was so close, so damn close.

He needed you.

But you just smiled at him, enjoying the way he was squirming beneath you.

You smiled as you stood up a little, stretching your back.

"Patience, sweetheart." You somewhat mockingly repeated his words he gave you moments before.

He groaned in frustration, his body still thrumming and begging for release.

He wanted you, he needed you desperately.

How could you be so cruel?

He watched as you stood there in front of him, your smirk making him even more frustrated.

"You're a tease," he grumbled, his voice rough with need.

You positioned yourself on his lap, without sitting down.

With one of your hands you cupped his cheek, as you placed a soft kiss on his lips.

"You were a good boy."

His breath hitched as you cupped his cheek, and he leaned into your touch, despite his frustration.

Your words made him shiver, the praise stirring something in him.

"I was," he murmured, his voice slightly pouty.

He was still needy, still on edge, but he loved the way you were handling him.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close, as he nuzzled your neck, breathing in your scent.

"Can I have my reward now?" he murmured against your skin.

"Heh, of course you do." You said, as with one of your free hands you grabbed his length, positioning the tip at your entrance.

He gasped at the feel of your hand on him, and he held onto you tighter.

He was so sensitive, every touch sending sparks through his senses.

"You're so perfect…," he whispered, his breath hot on your skin.

As he felt you position him at your entrance, he felt a shiver of anticipation. He needed you, he needed to be inside you.

He was on the brink of losing his mind from desire and need.

"Please," he pleaded, "Please don't make me wait any longer."

You smiled, as you slowly tried to make his length spill inside you.

Which in itself was difficult and painful for you, as this was your first time.

He could feel how tight you were, and he felt a pang of desire mixed with guilt.

As you tried to take him in, he noticed your slight discomfort, and he immediately stopped you.

He looked up at you, concern in his gaze, and he gently lifted you off him.

"Sweetheart, are you alright? You're hurtin'," he asked, his voice filled with worry.

He was still needy and desperate, but he didn't want to hurt you.

He cupped your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin, as he watched you intently.

You tried to hide your discomfort, but he saw right through it.

His concern and tenderness made you feel warm all over.

"I'm fine," you said, trying to downplay the pain you were feeling.

"I just need a moment to adjust," you added, a slight tremble in your voice.

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes searching yours, looking for any signs of discomfort.

He gently caressed your leg, his fingers tracing light circles on your skin.

"We can do it slowly, without pressure, my dear" he said, his voice gentle.

Your body relaxed at his words, grateful for his understanding and patience. He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

He took his time, gently guiding himself inside you once again, with great care.

He was still sensitive, craving your touch, but his main priority was ensuring that you were comfortable.

He slowly pushed himself in, his eyes locked on your face, watching for any sign of discomfort.

He could see the mixture of pain and pleasure on your face, the way you chewed your lips, trying to hide your discomfort.

He continued to move slowly and gently, giving you time to adjust to the new sensation. You took deep breaths, trying to relax and get used to the feeling.

It was slow, and it hurt, but having him be attentive and considerate, made you feel safe.

As he gently slid further in, the pain began to subside, replaced by an unfamiliar but not unpleasant feeling. He stopped once he was fully inside you, pausing for a moment.

He leaned in, placing gentle kisses on your face, trying to soothe you.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice tender and worried, his gaze fixed on you.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and gave him a small nod to let him know it was ok to continue.

His gentle and patient manner was making your heart flutter, and the way he watched you with such care made you feel even more connected to him.

"Y'know, sweetheart? This is my first time too." He said, still not moving.

He tucked one of your hairs behind your ear. As he placed several kisses on your cheeks in an affectionate way.

You blinked in surprise at his words, not expecting that revelation.

You really thought he would have done this many times by now because of the way he behaved, you were wrong apparently.

The realization that this was his first time too, and that he was just as nervous and uncertain, added a new layer of intimacy to the moment.

You reached up, cupping his cheek, and gave him a gentle smile.

"I didn't know." you said, your voice soft, "You're being so kind and patient with me."

Then you reached up, running a hand through his hair, feeling its texture and smoothness between your fingers.

He nuzzled into your touch, closing his eyes and enjoying the sensation.

He felt a little vulnerable admitting that it was his first time too, worried you might think less of him. But the way you smiled at him, the warm touch of your hand on his cheek, made any anxiety melt away.

He leaned into your touch, enjoying the feeling of your fingers combing through his hair. It was soothing and grounding, helping to steady his racing thoughts and nerves.

He gently began to move again, slowly and carefully, still watchful of your reaction.

He watched as you ran your hands through his hair, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

"Besides, I wanna make sure you're enjoying this just as much as I am." He whispered, his breath warm on your skin.

You shivered as he began to move again, the gentle friction sending small tremors through your body.

The way he was moving inside you was still a bit uncomfortable, but the pain was beginning to fade and be replaced by a different kind of sensation.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the sensations you were feeling. He was being so considerate, taking his time and making sure you were comfortable.

His words made you smile, and you opened your eyes to meet his gaze.

"I am enjoying it," you replied, "more than I ever imagined it could be."

Your hand continued to run through his hair, and you pulled him closer, pressing your forehead against his.

His heart skipped a beat as you pulled him closer, a warmth spreading through his chest.

He was relieved and happy to hear that you were enjoying it. All he wanted was for you to feel good and safe with him.

He continued to move gently, trying to find a pace that was pleasurable for both of you.

He relished in the feeling of your hand in his hair, and he loved the way your body felt against his own.

"You're so beautiful, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice thick with desire, "I could lose myself in you forever."

He leaned in, kissing your neck and collarbone. He opened his mouth to bite your neck, leaving a mark much more noticeable than the others he had left on your thighs.

The feeling of his mouth on your neck sent a shiver down your spine, and you let out a soft gasp as he bit down.

You could feel his teeth sinking into your skin, and you knew it would leave a mark, a reminder of this moment.

You tilted your head back, giving him more access to your neck, silently encouraging him.

The sensation was a mixture of pleasure and pain, but you didn't mind. It felt possessive.

Claiming. You wanted him to claim you, to make sure that everyone knew that you were his.

You arched your back, pressing closer against him, encouraging him to continue.

"Please," you murmured, your voice low and wanton. "Don't stop."

He was sensitive, and the feel of you around him was almost overbearing.

He felt your body arch against his, your voice low and pleading, and it made him shiver with desire.

He loved the way you reacted to his touch, the way you leaned into him and asked for more.

Hearing the words "Don't stop" spill from your lips was like music to his ears.

He continued his assault on your neck, his mouth moving to new spots, nibbling and biting and sucking, marking you as his own.

Instinctively he moved his hand to one of your breasts, pulling the tip and massaging it.

He began to move a little faster, a little deeper, his pleasure increasing. He groaned against your skin.

The feel of his hand on your breast sent ripples of pleasure through your body, your breath catching in your throat as he teased and played with your nipple.

The combination of his mouth on your neck and his hand on your breast was almost overwhelming. You let out a soft moan, arching your back in response.

As he began to move faster and deeper, you felt a wave of sensations wash over you. The pain had faded, replaced by a pleasure unlike anything you had ever experienced.

You could feel him beginning to lose himself.

Unconsciously, your hand moved down to your clit, touching yourself as you moved your hips slightly with his every movement.

That increased the pleasure you felt, making your inner walls clench at his length.

He looked down at you, his gaze filled with a mixture of desire and awe.

He was lost in you, drowning in your scent, your touch, the way you moved against him, the sounds you made. He couldn't get enough of you.

As he watched you touch yourself, his breath caught in his throat. Seeing you give yourself pleasure while he was inside you was an image he was sure to never forget.

He groaned, unable to keep his own pleasure contained.

"You're so perfect, sweetheart," he gasped out, his words interrupted by his ragged breaths.

He kept moving, faster and deeper, his mouth never leaving your neck. Every gasp and moan that escaped your lips only spurred him on.

Every movement, every touch, every breath felt like a shock to your body.

You were lost in the sensations, your mind unable to form coherent thoughts.

"Please," you panted, "Please, I need you-"

You weren't sure how much more you could take, the pleasure was almost too much to bear.

The combination of his words, his touch, and his movements were making it hard for you to think straight.

Your mind was swirling with sensation, and you couldn't focus on anything but the feel of him inside you, and the pleasure he was bringing you.

One of your hands grabbed onto his hair, the other one still rubbing your clit. A constant stream of soft moans and gasps was falling from your lips.

He walked away from your neck, having left countless marks all over the area.

His face could not have been redder at that moment.

The sight of him with narrowed eyes, tilting his head back and mouth open, trying to formulate sentences and words that would not come out, being replaced with incoherent sounds.

It was simply a delight for you.

He tried to form a coherent sentence, but the words were escaping him. His mind was consumed with desire, his body on the brink of ecstasy.

You knew he was entering his climax, as his movements became somewhat erratic and slightly sloppy.

And, him doing so, hit your g-spot.

He was losing control, his body moving on its own, driven by pure animalistic need. He wanted to hold on, to make this moment last, but he knew he was reaching his limit.

He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

He looked at you, trying to steady his breathing and speak. But all that came out were ragged gasps and incoherent sounds.

"I wanna-" he pleaded.

For that, your eyes were full of tears of pleasure.

You could feel him reaching his limit, the way his breathing was growing more labored and uneven.

The way he was trying to speak, but unable to form words, only adding to the intensity of the moment.

You were lost in the sensations, your body on fire. Each movement, each gasp from him was driving you closer and closer to the edge.

"Please," he pleaded once again, his voice ragged and needy, "can I…?"

His words trailed off, but you knew what he was asking for. And you were more than willing to give it to him.

You could see the desperation in his eyes. He wanted, no - needed to release.

He was on the edge, and you were right there with him.

You could feel him getting close, his movements becoming more uncoordinated, his breaths coming in short gasps.

"Please," you whispered, your voice trembling.

You were so close yourself, teetering on the brink of ecstasy. You could feel it building deep inside, like a coil winding tighter and tighter.

He turned his lips to yours, both of you stifling your moans and groans.

He moved his lips against yours, his tongue tracing your lips, seeking entry into your mouth.

You parted your lips, allowing him in. The kiss was messy and needy, both of you clinging to each other in search of more contact.

He let out a low moan against your mouth. He tried to hold back, to draw out the moment a little longer, but he was too far gone.

He looked into your eyes, his gaze pleading.

"I'm gonna-" he gasped out, his voice strained.

But he couldn't finish the sentence. He was completely lost in the sensation, the pleasure almost overwhelming him.

He buried his face into your neck, his body shivering against yours, as he held on to you tightly.

"I'm gonna-" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

You could feel him on the edge, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He was close, and so were you.

"Me too," you breathed out, your voice trembling with need, "I'm so close. Please-"

You gripped onto him.

He moved his lips to your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin.

And so, giving a few more deep penetrations, he reached his release. At the same time as you, as he pressed hard on your sweet spot, he made you come without hesitation.

As the waves of pleasure washed over him, he shuddered against you.

He let out a guttural moan, his body tensing up, as he released himself deep inside you.

He held onto you tightly, as he rode out the waves of pleasure. His eyes were closed, his breathing labored.

He tried to speak, to form words, but the only sound that came out were unintelligible gasps and moans.

For a few moments, you both were lost in the intensity of the moment. All that could be heard was the sound of your erratic breaths.

He collapsed against you, his body trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure. His forehead rested against your shoulder, his breaths ragged and heavy.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, as if afraid to let go. He buried his face into your neck, inhaling your scent.

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. You both laid there, your bodies tangled together, simply enjoying the afterglow.

His breathing slowly returned to normal, his body relaxed against yours.

He lifted his head from your neck, looking down at you.

"You're so amazing," he murmured, his voice husky.

He cupped your face, rubbing his thumb against your cheek. His eyes were soft and filled with tenderness.

"That was…" he trailed off, unable to find the words.

He let out a low chuckle.

"There are no words to describe how incredible that was."

You let out a shaky breath, a sated smile on your face.

You smiled weakly, still feeling a little boneless from the intense pleasure.

"Yeah," you agreed.

But you couldn't find the words either.

"Intense" was an understatement.

You turned your face into his hand, nuzzling into his palm, enjoying the feel of his cold skin against yours.

"I felt the same way," you replied, your voice soft and gentle.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"You're perfect," he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin. "Absolutely perfect."

He shifted slightly, pulling out of you with a soft groan.

He gently placed you on the bed as he leaned further back on the bed, no longer sitting up.

He pulled one of the blankets off the bed and placed it over his body, then took you in his arms, placing you on top of him, making it slightly more comfortable for you than just being pressed against his metal body.

He pressed you against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder.

For a few moments, you both lay there in silence, enjoying the closeness and the feel of each other's bodies.

His arms cradled you spectacularly, in an attempt to make your body try to unwind from the previous physical activity. Then he ran his fingers through your hair, his touch soft and soothing.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You lay on top of him, your head resting on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

His fingers were gentle as they threaded through your hair.

When he spoke, you could hear the concern in his voice.

You shook your head, lifting your face to look up at him.

"No, you didn't hurt me," you assured him. "You were perfect."

You shifted slightly, snuggling deeper against him.

"Now I'm just very tired.."

He chuckled softly, hearing you say that you were tired.

He continued running his fingers through your hair, rubbing soothing circles on your scalp.

"Exhausted, huh? I take that as a compliment."

He smiled, feeling a sense of pride that he had managed to tire you out so thoroughly.

He gently shifted under you, making himself more comfortable beneath you.

"You can sleep, sweetheart. I'll be right here."

He covered you with the blanket you were on top of, making sure you didn't get cold.

You melted into his touch, the feel of his fingers in your hair soothing and relaxing.

You let out a soft laugh, a little delirious from the lack of energy.

You snuggled against him, feeling more relaxed than ever before.

His touch was soothing, his fingers in your hair creating tingles on your scalp.

You let out a small sigh, feeling the exhaustion start to wash over you.

"Thanks," you murmured, your eyes drifting shut as you nuzzled against his chest.

He chuckled again as he felt you relax against him, your body sinking into his embrace.

He continued to lightly massage your scalp, knowing that it would help you fall asleep faster.

He felt your breath start to slow, your body growing heavier in his arms.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, feeling a sense of contentment wash over him.

"Sleep, sweetheart," he whispered.

Your eyes opened slowly, getting a little used to the light coming through the window.

Attempting to stretch out, you felt trapped.

You looked up, seeing Boothill lying there. His eyes were closed.

Perhaps he was recharging his battery, you looked down again.

As your eyes cleared, you saw your legs and torso almost uncovered, which caused you to wake up completely.

You felt an incredible heaviness throughout your body, as if every bone and joint ached.

Mentally recoiling in an attempt to remember why, your eyes opened wide.

You'd had sex with him, in someone else's house, out loud. Your face turned red, "what a shame," you thought.

You sighed, leaning your head back on his chest.

Oh, but before you could try to get any more sleep, your hand reached as far as it could to your trousers, which were at one end of the bed.

When you managed to reach them, you pulled out your phone, going straight into the chat with your roommate.

You deleted the incomplete message you didn't get to send yesterday, typed in a new one and then proceeded to send it.

It read; "I rode a cowboy".

The chat almost immediately began to fill up with messages, none of which you read, proceeding to toss your phone to the side, closing your eyes again.

©cherrylovelycherry do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[bexalert]

Jjk characters and physical affection

CUZ IM A WHORE AND I NEED THEM BADLY !!!

(Itadori, Fushiguro, Inumaki, Choso, Maki)

Itadori Yuji:

AHHHH

Ok this man is so into you first of all

Like he is not ashamed

PDA!!!

He’s always got an arm around your shoulders, or around your waist, or holding your hand

He’s a huge teddy bear

When you cuddle it just becomes a tangle of limbs

Like he’s all over you

Borderline suffocating you, and he’s so hot (temperature wise)

He falls asleep so easily too

You’ll be dying, crushed under his weight and he’s just slumped

He loves to just squeeze you!!!

Pecks all over your face

Anywhere he can reach he will be smooching!!!

He likes to sneak up behind you and pick you up

Tickle attacks 😔

HE JUST LOVES SEEING YOU SMILE AHHH

Just always has this big stupid goofy grin on his face when he’s with you

He’s cool with any cuddling position, but he likes when you lay on his chest

He’s just the biggest sweetheart at all times!!!

Fushiguro Megumi:

SHY

He might hold your hand in public, but don’t you dare make a big deal

Or else he’ll huff and pull his hands away

I feel like he does get a little jealous though

Like if people hit on you he’ll all the sudden wrap an arm around your shoulders and glare at them

“They’re taken.”

And then you’re walking away

He’ll deny it to anyone, though, if it’s brought up

LITTLE SPOON!!!

He won’t admit it, but he likes being little spoon

He also just like holding your hands

Like facing eachother in bed, and just holding hands

He likes to admire you while you sleep

Not in a weird way, he’s just too embarrassed to do it while you’re awake

He’ll hold your face and just memorize all your features

He’s so gentle ☹️☹️☹️

Treats you like porcelain

He loves to kiss your forehead

He’s just such a cutie

Inumaki Toge:

He loves to hold your hand

Like your hands are always intertwined, no matter WHAT

He doesn’t care if anyone teases him

If people hit on you he’ll be like 🤨 huh

Cuz do they not see you’re holding HIS hand

He’ll stand in front of you, blocking the persons view of you

“Bonito flakes.”

And the person is just left in awe

He’s a little basic

He just likes hugging

Just you two holding eachother ☹️

Obviously he’s very quiet, but he loves to hear you talk

He’ll listen to you talk about your day and just be like mhm mhm

He kisss you on the tip of your nose 😭😭😭

He’d spell things onto your skin and have you guess what he’s trying to say

He’d tickle you, but he WILL NOT let you tickle him

Like bro genuinely starts tweaking

He runs away

Like a kid playing tag then going “I DONT WANNA PLAY ANYMORE” that’s him

He’s ticklish ok leave him alone

He kisses your knuckles sorry I don’t make the rules

HEHEHE I LOVE HIM OK

Choso:

He’s a little shy 🤭

But he’s got the spirit!

Like he’ll hold your hand, and then hide his red face in his other hand

He loves giving back hugs

JAW KISSES 💔💔💔

He’s very vocal about how he feels

“You’re so pretty.”

And he’s kind of matter of fact about it

Like if you’re insecure about how you look he’ll be like “🧐 What?”

And then proceed to point out how and why everything about you is GORGEOUS

He likes giving piggy back rides

He’ll hold your hands, and stare at every little detail.

Your cuticles, your nails, your joints, the wrinkles on the skin

He kisses your neck

He’s a thigh man.

Big spoon

But also little spoon

He likes them both !!!

Zen’in Maki:

She keeps her arm FIRMLY around your waist or shoulder

Everyones gonna know that you’re with her

She thinks it’s so funny when people try to hit on you

She’ll laugh at them

“No, go on.” while she’s making fun of them

Cuz she knows they’re not competition

She teases you

A little mean, but she can’t help it

She just loves seeing your face when you’re flustered

She likes holding you, like being big spoon, or your head in her chest

As long as she can hold you tightly, she’s happy.

Shoulder kisses no doubt

She’ll hold you from behind and leave little pecks across your shoulders

She likes forehead kisses

Move her bangs and give a little smooch and she is gone

Absolutely whipped but she won’t ever admit it

sorry guys I’m freaktastic

[soupangel]

gojo x reader having a baby girl 🥹🥹 I wanna see girl dad satoru plsss 🥹😭

Papa-Michi Day

Synopsis: Michiru loves spending time with her Papa

warnings: reader is referred to as mama, very very brief pregnancy mention (just in the first sentence)

wc: 1.6k (wow.. are we proud)

a/n: I have an unhealthy obsession with dad!gojo so thank you for this request

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆

You would think that because you were the one to carry her for nine months that she would at least look a little like you. But Michiru came out looking one hundred percent Satoru. Bright blue eyes, white hair, and she even got his smile. It didn't help that she was also attached to Satorus hip, always following him around like a little duckling. It's absolute hell trying to get him to work on time because he always gives into Michirus' cries of “ just one more kiss papa, one more”.

The sound of tiny grunting is what woke you up this morning. Blinking to wake yourself up you sit to see little Michi trying to climb up onto the bed.

“Michi, honey what are you doing?” you whisper as to not wake Satoru.

She huffs and says ” I get up.” looking at you as if it was obvious, and you suppose it was seeing as she does this almost everyday you should've expected her this morning. Satoru was already looking into tiny steps to put by the bed because of course he was.

You go to pick her up and bring her onto the bed with you to end her struggling. Sitting back against the pillows with Michiru in your lap you brush through her bed head.

“How did you sleep my darling”

“Good mama” she says leaning into your hand.

“Yeah? Did you have any fun dreams?” 

“Ummm there was a unicorn in the livingroom and Papa got mad because it made a poo poo on the carpet” she giggles

“Oh my that's so silly Michi!” 

She sits up straighter in your lap and looks at the sleeping Satoru next to you. You know she wants to wake him up, it's why she came in here in the first place.

“I wake up papa now?”

“Yes darling you can wake up papa now.” You laugh.

She beams at you then crawls over to where Satoru is sleeping, lying on his back, vulnerable to  the attack that is about to befall him. You have to hold in your laughter as Michiru flings herself onto Satorus chest.

“Wake up papa Michi is here!”

Satoru wakes up with a start, all the air in his lungs getting knocked out of him. He has to catch his breath before he can answer Michi, his sweet little angel who can do no wrong. He brings her closer to his face and hugs her tightly and pets her hair. 

“Michi, what have I said about jumping on me while I sleep”

She hums as she thinks before answering.

“To not do it.”

“Yes and what did you do just now?”

“I jumped on papa”

“Right, we need to work on our listening skills, I think.”

Michiru picks up her head from her Papas shoulder and looks at him with her puppy eyes that make Satoru melt every time.

“I'm sorry Papa, I just so excited to see you.”

Satoru looks as if he's about to cry when he dramatically throws his arms around Michi declaring how he can never be mad at his little Michi. You just shake your head as you get up to start on breakfast Pancakes of course because Michi also inherited Satorus sweet tooth.

Your Husband emerges from your bedroom not even five minutes later with your daughter on his hip. Bed hair not yet fixed he looks just like Michi did when she first came to your room.

“Good morning Mama!” Satoru says before placing a very dramatic (and wet) kiss on your cheek, making Michiru laugh.

You make a show of dramatically wiping the residue of his kiss off your face. 

“Good morning Papa, good morning Michi,” you turn back to the stove to flip the pancakes. “Go sit down, breakfast is almost ready.”

“Yes ma'am” Satoru salutes.

He makes airplane noises as he flys Michiru throughout the dining room, her laugh echoing off the walls, and plops her down in her chair. As if they prepared this, which you wouldn't put past them, they both picked up their fork and knife and started banging them on the table, shouting “Pancakes! Pancakes! Pancakes!”

You walk through the doorway leading to the dining room holding a plate of steaming pancakes in one hand and  a bottle of syrup in the other. 

“Alright, Alright, it's ready!”  you say, putting down the plate in front of them. It takes them all of three seconds to grab their pancakes off the plate.

“Thank you Mama!” They say in unison, digging into their breakfast.

You sit down to start eating your own, taking the seat right across from Satoru, with Michiru to your right. 

“You're welcome my loves”

It's silent for a few minutes while everyone is busy enjoying their breakfast. That is until Satoru loudly sighs and leans back into his chair. He lifts his head to look at you.

“Thank you for breakfast y/n.” He smiles.

“You're welcome Satoru.” You smile back. 

He gets up to take all of your plates into the kitchen but not without giving his favorite girls a kiss. While Satoru does the dishes you take Michi up to her room to get her ready for the day. Since it was Saturday that means it's what Satoru and Michi call a ‘papa-Michi day’. Where Satoru takes Michi out for the day doing whatever fun activities they can come up with, and you get the day to yourself.

Today Michi has decided to wear a pastel pink dress with her new sparkly shoes that Satoru just bought her. She does a little twirl in the mirror to see her dress poof before she looks at you and runs into your legs.

She tilts her chin up so it rests on your thigh and asks “ Do I look pretty mama?”

You swear you almost melted into a puddle right there. 

“Oh Michi, you are so beautiful!!” You kneel down so you're now face to face and kiss her forehead. “Let's go show papa how pretty you look.”

She quickly exited the bedroom and carefully made her way down the steps because there's no running on the stairs. But once she made it to the landing she sprinted to the kitchen, where they last saw Satoru, Shouting “Papa! Papa! MIchi’s ready!”

He turns around before she has a chance to crash into his legs and scoops her up into his arms. 

“Nooo this isn't my Michi, this has to be a princess!” He tickles her stomach.

She laughs as she says “ No Papa it's Michi! It's really me!”

Satoru pulls back to take a better look at her outfit. Quite different from how he saw her this morning, her hair is now done in two little pigtails. 

“Michi, you are the most beautiful girl in the whole world.”

She puts her head on Satoru's shoulder, she always gets shy when receiving compliments, something she did not get from Satoru, but you instead.

“Even prettier than Mama?” she questions.

“Of course but we have to keep that between me and you okay?”

“Okay!” She beams at him. She loves keeping secrets even though she's horrible at it.

“Hey! I heard that!” 

They both turn their heads to look at you in the doorway of the kitchen with your hands on your hips.

“Heard what?” Satoru asks, playing dumb.

Michi doesn't catch on to the fact that Satoru is only pretending because she turns her little head to his and says “That I'm more prettier that Mama.”

You hold in your laugh so you can torture Satoru a moment longer.

“Michi, it was supposed to be a secret.” Satoru whines.

“Oops sorry” she says and then quickly slaps her hand over her mouth.

You walk over to them both and give your daughter a kiss and lightly glare at Satoru.

“It's okay Michi, you can be prettier than mama.” You then turn to Satoru. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop teaching our daughter to keep secrets from us?”

He looks down sheepishly and softly apologizes

“It won't happen again.”

“Good, now you two better get going and start Papa-Michi day.”

You walk them to the door kissing them both Goodbye. They wave to you until you're out of their sight.

Michi decides today is a good day for the Park. She's not really dressed for the park but he, you only live once, and Satoru cant say no to her. Satoru helps her on the monkey bars, which really just means he held her up the entire way across. They raced down the slide and of course Michi won. To end ‘Papa-Michi day’ they stop for ice cream, which is usually how they all end.

As they walk home Michi spots some flowers growing on the sidewalk and tugs on Satoru’s hand.

“For Mama, we have to get them for mama.” she says pointing to the little yellow flowers.

“Of course mama would never turn down a gift from her Michi, Go pick them.” 

She hops over to the little flowers and plucks them out of the ground. She runs back to where Satoru is waiting for her and resumes holding his hand.

“Ok lets go '' she pants out, because running no matter the distance is always tiring for a four year old.

By the time they make it home, dinner is ready. You placed the little flowers Michi picked for you in a little glass vase in the middle of the table.  While you ate Michi told you all about her exciting day with her Papa.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆

I would love to know what you thought! likes comments and reblog are always appreciated!

[notjustjavierpena]

Public

Main Masterpost | Series Masterpost

A/N: Written for @janaispunk ‘s 1500 kisses challenge where I had to incorporate a cheek kiss and a French kiss. This was so fun to do and made me able to do a very requested scenario! I’m pleased Jana allowed me to use hubby (even if he isn't hubby yet here)🥰 and it turned a lot more smutty than intended (not that i’m sorry)

Summary: You play the perfect part at Javier’s office party.

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, established relationship, they’re so in love, domestic, banter, lots of kisses, dirty talk, praise kink, exhibitionism, clit stim, fingering

Word Count: 3.6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56618974

Public

Work parties in your office are always a dreadful thing; ugly and over-the-top decorations on the walls, tedious conversation with people higher up than you, and terrible music that seems to be played by the worst DJ in history. That’s why you giggle, a hand covering your mouth, the first time Javier mentions that he has to go to one of these schmoozing events at the police station. Police station and party are words that do not belong together. 

Javier raises a brow as you continue giggling about it, “What’s so funny about that? You don’t want to go?”

“God, no!” You shake slightly from the laughter, reaching down to cup your mug of coffee with both hands again so it doesn’t spill. Javier looks slightly hurt by your reluctance, so you force yourself to stop snickering and tilt your head with a genuine smile, “Hey, of course, I want to go with you. For moral support at the very least. It’s just… I know exactly what you’re in for and that’s very funny.”

“Don’t remind me. I’ve endured enough so far,” Javier groans. He reaches up to run a hand over his forehead, pinching the bridge of his nose like he has a headache already. 

“You haven’t endured one with me though. I’m great,” you grin cheekily over the top of your mug, taking a sip when you earn a little smile. It’s the first party he’s going to after you started dating and it seems like a milestone in your relationship; there’s something about showing you off to the people he spends time with every day and thus involving you in his work life. It’s getting more and more serious each day. 

“You’re right about that,” he replies and you know that he is thinking the same thing. He crosses the room where you are standing against the kitchen counter in his apartment, looking so much like someone he wants to marry one day. Gently, he takes the mug from your hands and places it on the counter, only to lean in and not quite kiss you yet. He talks with his lips hovering just above yours, “If you’re so good at them… Any survival tips?”

You scrunch up your nose to look like someone having a think, constantly on the brink of a snicker when he traps you between his arms by placing his palms on the table behind you. You hum and then light up, “Oh, I’ve got plenty but the most important one is to plan an exit strategy - seriously, Javi, weren’t you in Colombia? You should know this - anyway, we need to secure a safe escape route and come up with a plausible reason to leave early. Involve me, if you like.”

Javier’s eyes soften as he looks at you. He can barely believe how fantastic you are, “¡Dios mío (My God)! And here I thought you were going to say something like ‘grin and bear it’ but you’re a woman with an evil plan.”

“Right? You think you know someone…” you lean in for a kiss that he teasingly avoids. His breath ghosts across your face and you pout from how much you want to put your lips to his and how much he doesn’t let you, “Javi.”

“I know, baby,” he tuts and bumps your noses together, “But we need an excuse for the party. Any ideas from the mastermind herself?” 

You place your forearms on his shoulders and decide to tease him right back, “Oh, I don’t know. We could just sneak out the back when no one’s looking. You could make an arrest against the back of the building.”

Javier makes a noise in the back of his throat. He tries to hold himself back, only just succeeding, “We could do that, yeah, definitely, but I think I’ll stick around a bit longer if you’re there to make it bearable.” 

“Okay okay,” you stop your teasing, “How about we stay for an hour tops, mingle to make you seem like the best colleague in the world, I’ll charm your boss’ pants off…”

“And then I’ll say we have an urgent… situation that we need to attend to,” he suggests. 

“And what would that situation be?” You smirk. 

Javier’s voice drops to a suggestive tone, “Hmm, I dunno. A personal situation that requires my full attention and… immediate care.”

You link your fingers on the back of his neck, teasing his hair there with your fingertips, “Funny. I think one of those situations might just be happening right now too.”

With that, he cannot go on any longer. He pulls you in and behind you, your coffee grows cold. 

—

The police station looks ridiculous while Javier looks nervous. It’s a contrast you want to gawk at because as far as you know, nothing seems to rattle the previous DEA agent turned sheriff of Laredo. However, social interaction in the workplace appears to be his kryptonite and with his donut-eating and domesticated lifestyle colleagues, he seems very much out of his element compared to who he tells stories about from Colombia.

“You know, you have to point out the guy I have to schmooze with. We need a signal,” you whisper close to his ear as you enter the bullpen and a few heads turn. Your hand is in his and when you squeeze it, he seems to relax a little more in his step. Your eyes scan the room for faces that might match the names you’ve heard in passing conversations. Most of them stare back with a subtle look of respect and admiration, eyeing you at first and then nodding at each other in approval. You should feel on the spot but you can barely concentrate as Javier lets go of your hand to rest his palm against the small of your back now that his confidence is slowly coming back.

“No need, he’s coming towards us right now,” he says quietly and smiles in his boss’ direction. 

“Tell me his name,” you say with a little smile of your own, “Quickly.”

“Uhh, that’s Commissioner Martin Lopez,” he manages before he receives a slap on the back from the man approaching you. 

“Peña! Glad to see you joining the festivities. Always good for moral support,” Lopez greets and gestures to the room of deputies. He is a large, square-shouldered man with a booming voice and a mustache even more impressive than your boyfriend’s. He looks like someone who laughs from his belly and you’re surprised that Javier is still standing upright after his large hand has clapped his shoulder. 

Javier is just about to introduce you but then you hold your hand out and interrupt, “Commissioner Lopez. You’re a frequent name in our conversations; Javier admires you a whole lot.”

“You should hear how much he talks about you around here, ma’am. I’ve been hearing about you all night because everyone’s itching to meet you,” Lopez replies with a huge smile. He shakes your hand which disappears inside of his huge one. 

You look briefly at Javier with a raised brow. On your back, he rubs up and down as a hidden ‘thank you’ while sporting an embarrassed smile. 

“Said too much?” Lopez questions teasingly. 

“Not at all but really? Ma’am? You’re making me sound so old, Martin,” you charm and give him a playful roll of your eyes. 

His eyes light up as you match his energy and he lets out a hearty laugh, “Apologies, miss. ‘Fraid it’s a bit of a habit. Should we expect to hear Mrs. soon?”

“Sir,” Javier tries to interrupt, horrified by the bluntness. 

“My God,” you theatrically clutch at your chest and turn to your boyfriend again, “Sheriff Peña, how much do you babble on about me here?”

Lopez holds up both his hands, seeming to love your display, “Now now, we need to let him keep some sort of authority here. Can’t be too hard on him in front of the others, so you best be off mingling. I still have a few rounds to make to make sure everyone’s enjoying themselves.”

“It’s good to see you, sir,” Javier says and earns a squeeze on his shoulder. 

“Glad to see you finally brought her,” Lopez looks in your direction and you share a smile. He turns to leave afterward, heading in the direction of a larger crowd and as he greets them, you hear his voice echo through the room. 

You turn to Javier, linking your arms around his neck and smiling at him with tenderness in your eyes, “You have nothing to worry about here. They all love you.”

“Suppose it’s nicer than some of the shit I got in Colombia,” he murmurs, staring over your shoulder as the crowd discreetly watches you embrace. He rests his hands on your hips, smoothing them around your waist until they entwine on the small of your back. You want a kiss and he pecks your lips when you make an impatient sound. 

“Much nicer,” you eventually say, twisting around to lean against his chest. Your gaze goes over the crowded room, a few smiles meeting yours, “They look at you like you’re the sun or something.”

“And you are doing fucking great, by the way,” he squeezes you in his arms, “Making friends faster than I ever did.”

You tilt your head to look up at him, your eyes meeting his, “What can I say? I’m a natural, Sheriff Peña.”

“And modest too,” he shakes his head with a fond expression. Then he leans in to kiss your cheek from behind with a tenderness that tells you how much he appreciates you being here with him, going public in front of his colleagues for the first time. It’s not a quick peck but rather a lingering, heartfelt kiss that makes your heart sing for more of his affection. You feel the warmth of his lips against your skin, and it sends a shiver down your spine. 

The room fades for the moment it goes on and when you come to your senses again, when your heartbeat has slowed down enough to notice your surroundings again, you realize the intimacy of the moment and feel the heat in your cheeks. However, you don’t let yourself feel anything negative towards it when you also come to the point that Javier Peña is not embarrassed to be affectionate with you in front of others. 

“That was nice,” you whisper as you still look up at him, feeling your cheeks hurt slightly from how much you are smiling.

He says nothing but instead just adds a quick peck to your hair. There’s no way he’ll describe this party as anything close to unbearable now. 

The night goes on after Javier reluctantly releases you from his arms. You circle the room together, all smiles and laughter, but sometimes you even separate and it doesn’t feel as frightening as you thought it would. Joke aside, maybe you are a natural. 

You end up in a group of female deputies. Julia, a woman with an impressive winged eyeliner, asks you how on Earth you caught yourself such a man and managed to hold him down. You reply with an embarrassed laugh, fidget with your dress strings on the front, and look in your boyfriend’s direction as you receive yet another compliment on him. Much to your delight, you catch a glimpse of Javier seeming to relax and enjoy himself. It makes you return to the conversation with newfound joy. 

“Honestly, he’s the one who caught me,” you say with a grin, earning a round of knowing giggles from the group, “I mean… He’s pretty hard to resist.”

“Well, the two of you make a great couple,” Julia says while the rest nods and hums. You reach up to cup your burning face, the ache in your face really hitting you.

“Not giving you a hard time, are they?” Javier interrupts and slides an arm around your waist. He catches your eye and gives you a quick, reassuring smile that makes your heart flutter.

“Just the opposite, Peña,” Julie jokes with a wink. “We’re giving her the lowdown on you.”

Javier groans playfully, “Shit, I’m doomed.”

“Better find out now than later, so I know what I’m in for,” you laugh genuinely, leaning into his side and feeling his arm tighten around you. 

“How are you feeling? Tired?” Javier checks in. 

“A little,” you falsely admit. This seems to be Javier setting the exit strategy in motion, so you go with it. 

“Do you wanna head home?” He continues, rubbing your side affectionately, “We could go back to my place.”

You hear the women make an “ooh”-sound. You nod while chewing on your bottom lip, “Yes, please.”

It doesn’t take long to say your farewells and even less time to exit the building and walk towards your car further down the street. It’s nice and cool outside, stars above you blinking occasionally. You like feeling him so close without him touching you as you walk, noticing quickly that he keeps gazing at you. 

“Why are you staring at me like that?” You look back over your shoulder as you approach the car. 

Javier is just about to reach for the keys in his pocket when he pauses. He waits a moment before striking, “It’s nothing. I just couldn’t believe how sexy you were playing the good little wife.”

You whirl around with your breath caught in your throat, your heartbeat quickening in your chest at those words. His eyes burn on your skin, an intensity in them that you can’t ever resist. You decide to say something back, “Yeah? You like me as your wife, huh? Cooking in the kitchen and cleaning the floor on my knees?”

“You don’t know what you do to me,” Javier says, his voice having dropped an octave. He steps forward and maneuvers you before you can protest until he has you firmly against the side of the car. The cool metal is nice against your electrified skin, creaking slightly as he pushes you further into the vehicle when his lips crash against yours. 

You instinctively reach up to cup his face, mouth falling open in a moan as he settles a knee between your legs. He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue past your lips, and as you respond by allowing him to practically eat from your mouth you find that he is tasting like himself so thoroughly that you can’t get close enough. 

Your hands slide up into his hair, tugging slightly as you continue kissing him so messily. He makes a noise, pushing his pelvis into yours to make you whine for him. 

“Not here,” you say without pulling back, knowing there’s no way you are stopping this. Between another string of lingering kisses, you try to protest some more, “We’re on a public road.”

“I know,” he seems to be under the same spell, velvety tongue against yours, “Spread your legs.”

“Javi,” you scold mid-kiss.

“I’m gonna put my hand underneath that dress and make you come because you deserve it,” he tells you with the kind of tone that lets you know he has already made up his mind, “And then I’ll take you home, and show you how much I appreciate you.”

Javier’s hand lays flat against your thigh, going upwards until it teases the hem of your dress. Despite the protest you have just voiced, you find yourself spreading your legs the second he slips his fingers underneath it. You don’t make it too obvious for others if they were to walk by, only just giving him the access he demands while your heartbeat takes over your whole body and your panties start to soak, “Fuck, okay. Okay.”

“Good girl,” he whispers against your lips and catches your mouth in another fervent kiss. You lay your arms on his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he makes your knees weak. He places his hand flat against your stomach and then slides it down into your panties, never once ending the kisses he is giving you. 

The second his fingers press against your slit, you breathe in sharply through your nose and moan his name softly with the result of breaking the kiss. He chuckles a little, says you’re unbelievable under his breath and goes to work on you. He doesn’t slip his fingers inside of you just yet, just strokes your cunt the way he knows you like. 

You mewl. Your eyes flutter closed, eyebrows scrunching up as you concentrate on the pleasure he is giving to you. He seems conflicted by wanting to stare at you while he touches you but then decides against it and leans in to let his lips find yours again, capturing them in another kiss that makes you dizzy even in the fresh night air. 

His fingers slide through your slick folds, two fingers finding your pulsing clit to go back and forth over it until something starts building below your belly button. You gush a little when he collects more wetness, dripping obscenely into his palm. 

“Estás tan mojada para mí (you’re so wet for me),” he praises in a whisper during the few seconds he pulls out of the kiss to get a proper mouthful of air. You grab the back of his neck and pull him back to your mouth, panting softly into him whilst nodding. 

“I know… Please,” you say breathlessly as his fingers work their magic. 

“What do you need, mi amor (my love)?” He asks against your mouth, knowing better than to break apart again. 

“More, please,” you clutch at him, the hand that’s not at the top of his spine digging its fingers into his shoulder, “Inside, baby.”

Finally, he slides his middle- and ring finger into your awaiting heat. Pretty little wife, wasn’t that what he’d called you? You clench around his digits at the idea that it will mean that he’ll make you come with his wedding ring on his finger one day. 

“What happened there?” He asks in awe, referring to the way you just choked his fingers. He curls them inside you, repeatedly hitting that perfect spot that makes you see stars. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, unable to keep kissing him, and look to the sky, “Nothing, just thinking of you as mi esposo guapo (my handsome husband).”

Javier pushes his hips forward to let you feel his hard cock against your thigh, “Watch it or I’ll fuck you right here on the street. What a mess that’ll be.” 

Those words spike your arousal. Mixed with the way he fucks you open on his fingers, your peak nears faster than normal. You partly blame it on the danger of the situation too; the excitement of maybe getting caught even if the streets are pretty much deserted at this point. 

“You like that idea, huh? That what makes my baby come?” He asks with a hint of a condescending tone. His thumb finds your clit, pressing down in tight circles while he drives you wild with his fingers in your twitching cunt. 

You shake your head but your pussy clenches again, betraying you. His snicker is dark and he speeds up his hand’s thrusts, “Then you better keep quiet for me. I don’t think you can though, can you, baby? Fuck, you are gorgeous and good for me.” 

Teetering on the edge of release, you curse yourself as you moan despite your best efforts to keep your lips zipped tightly in public. Javier’s eyes flicker with mischief and self-satisfaction and his free hand comes up to cover your mouth. He holds your gaze intensely, “That’s right. You’re so loud for me, baby. Can’t help yourself when I make you come.”

You start to tremble. He smirks, “Come for me. Right here, right now.”

With a final thrust of his fingers, you come undone, your body shuddering against him as waves of ecstasy crash over you. He catches each of your cries in the palm of his hand, successfully muffling them so no one will look out their windows to see what the racket is about. But then again, is the sheriff going to arrest himself for indecent exposure? 

When you come down, he has you mewling feebly as his fingers are still inside you, now moving gently to tease out a few aftershocks. He smiles softly at you, eyes locked onto your tired ones, and removes his hand from your mouth when you’ve calmed completely. 

“Jesus,” you chuckle and inhale sharply as he withdraws his hand from your ruined underwear. He admires the shine on his fingers underneath the moonlight, watching the way the slick coats his fingers in pearly white. You feel beyond flustered as he cleans them with his mouth, keeping his eyes fixed on yours in a hungry and obscene display. 

“You taste so good,” he licks between two fingers and reminds you of how his tongue also makes you come like no one else ever has. 

You smile lazily and lean against the car, still trying desperately to catch your breath whilst your legs shake beneath you. When you try to straighten your clothes, he bats your hand away and helps you with a gentleness that makes your heart ache for this intimacy to be forever. 

“Your place?” You ask as he straightens out a fold on your hip. The night screams for more of this, more of his hand touching you. 

“Yeah, get in the car,” he replies and unlocks the vehicle for you, “Let’s go home.”

.

.

.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

[meanbossart]

A personal headcanon of mine is that Cazador had a special interest in Astarion before turning him into a vampire possibly a romantic obsession.

I was curious about what your personal thoughts were on the relationship between Cazador and Astarion?

Let me stop you right there - Yes.

Now, I'm a little reluctant to elaborate on this one, because I think it can be seen as a little reductive of the characters and their stories to condense what could be a political plot into something as superficial as another "if I can't have you, no one will" storyline - not only would that be less interesting to some people, but it once again reduces Astarion's character to his attractiveness - while the former, for once, actually made him "desirable" for his achievements and influence - even if it doomed him after all.

But at the same time, this theory compels me for that reason exactly. It sets the origins of the whole issue and what would, overtime, erupt into this complex he has of himself and how others perceive him.

I'm not a stickler for details as long as you can tell me a good story, but it's notable to me that the reasons why Cazador set his eyes on Astarion so early in his reign are never really elaborated on further. How much influence did he really have as a young magistrate, and what kind of rulings could he be passing that would affect Cazador so much for him to take such a risk in abducting someone of his standing right as he had himself come into power? Cazador is an idiot, but he's an idiot who managed to say alive and hidden for two centuries - this move was either exceptionally well thought-out, or Astarion wasn't that liked as a magistrate, or Cazador had far pettier motives to take such a risk.

Not to mention, Astarion is awfully elusive whenever you inquire about the hows and whys of his abduction. Dismissive, even. Like it's something he doesn't want to talk about. I could take that down the boring route and say "oh, the writers just didn't care to develop this part of his story", or I could do the far more fun thing and read into it.

Then, of course, there's the vague suggestions that Astarion stood out among the spawn for one reason or another - he's referred to as the runt of the litter, and yet as Cazador's favorite as well. Going through Cazador's journal following Astarion's disappearance, there seems to be something besides frustration about him leaving just as he's about to ascend - there's resentment, there's desperation. Why the fuck does Petras act as if Cazador would ever do anything good for them if they were treated as Astarion describes? How the fuck were any of them under the impression that this ritual would benefit them whatsoever, while Astarion seems to have always known better? While I have no doubt that they all suffered under Cazador's control, there seems to be indication that Astarion suffered specially badly. The question left is why.

I don't think they were ever lovers or anything like that, I don't think Astarion ever even knew Cazador well enough to give him a passing thought, but I think it would be absolutely rich for a newly born, still spite-fuelled vampire lord to make very emotionally-driven decisions. The type of decisions that he looks back on and curses himself for. For having ever had such a weak mind.

Think of it, you come into all this power after years of pain, sorrow and suffering. You set your hungry, lonely little eyes on the prettiest girl at the ball - she turns you down spectacularly. She laughs you off under thinly veiled pleasantries. You are beside yourself - you were supposed to have everything you ever wanted, to be untouchable, to be desirable, to have some sort of supernatural allure about yourself - you were under the impression that now, all of your problems had been solved and everything that life has to offer would be thrown at your feet, like you perceived it to be like to your own, deceased masted; then the rug gets ripped from under your feet. But, a moment after, you realize: when you want something very badly, you can now just take it.

So you do. You get a shiny new toy. Fresh off your dull, painful past-experiences it seems like this toy is all you need to bring the long-lost zest back into your life, it is your first taste of true power and control, your dear beloved, your reluctant companion, and you paint a picture of what life will be alongside it (though slightly stooped beneath you - you can't be equals, of course) decades, no, centuries into the future.

But the toy doesn't ever grow to like you. In fact, it hates you for what you are, what you chose to become and what you chose to make of, and to it. For a few years, you try. Then eventually you get bored of it.

In a few more, you begin to not be able to stand the sight of it. It reminds you of a time when you were naive, when you were stupid. Worse yet, it is now your ball and chain as you made it. The only use you see remaining for it is to tear it apart again and again and again until you've forgotten why you're even doing it. You don't even want to touch it yourself, you get others to do it for you.

I don't think Cazador harbored anything but that indifferent resentment towards Astarion through the vast majority of those two centuries, and, horrifically enough, I don't think Astarion even knew why for a good deal of it himself. I can picture him going over and over any passing interactions they ever had (if they even had any) desperately trying to piece together why me, what could I have done differently, how could I have avoided this hell.

Then, at some point, in the brief moments when his mind is somewhat cleared and after he has heard enough vague, cryptic remarks out of Cazador's mouth about his looks, about his attitude, about how he must think he's too good to do what he does, it hits him: If I had just said yes, none of this would have happened. It would have been a brief moment of disgust, but then it would have been over.

And you beat yourself over it almost much as you feel shame. You're embarrassed. Because you've now had to endure all this torment just because you said no to the wrong man - a matter of picking the bad choice at 50/50 odds. Not only that - but you were apparently so worthless to the world that this small mistake was enough to doom you for all eternity: It was, apparently, all you were worth. And he has made that abundantly clear by what he puts you up to now.

So, when someone asks you why it happened, you give them a better reason. One that at least highlights other things you were good at. They probably wouldn't believe you if you told them the truth, anyways.

[hibiscusol]

JJ MAYBANK BOYFRIEND HEADCANNONS !!

navigation ! masterlist

warnings: one suggestive line? none really

author's note: all my exams are almost overrr :> i'll be fully free on sunday though, can't wait to get to writing more !

he loves driving around in the twinkie with you and the pogues, but he feels better when it’s just the two of you on the drive, driving around the island, playing your favorite songs.

he doesn’t like talking to anyone about his dad, not even john b, but when he sees your puppy eyes and the way your fingers caress the nape of his neck, all his walls break.

he tells you about the past, the good memories and the bad ones, and he knows you’ll listen. because you’re his girl.

he buys you flowers whenever he can afford it (which is rarely), and he forgets your favorite ones and get you a different one every time.

he shows up at your house in the middle of the night randomly, saying he needs a hug or he’s horny. either way, he doesn’t leave until he’s happy again.

he definitely has a wall on his room dedicated to you. it’s like a shrine, with pictures of you or little letters you’ve written him, and it’s in a way where he can see it whenever he’s laying on the bed on his side.

he does not let any girl other than you or kiara get near him. if any girl comes up to him and asks him anything, he’s going to hit them with the “hi, i have a girlfriend” before answering.

he’s the only person who can jokingly make fun of you. he always tells you you look like shit in the mornings before drowning you in kisses. or tells you that an ugly character on the screen looks like you when you’re watching something. but if anyone else does it, they’re in trouuuble.

he’ll listen to anything you listen to cause he simply does not have a music taste to begin with. he doesn’t even have spotify or soundcloud, and just tells you to get on aux whenever you and the pogues are hanging out. whether it’s taylor swift and gracie abrams to future and travis scott, he’ll listen to it and jam out to every song.

whenever you two argue, there is no way he would agree he’s wrong right away. he’ll storm away and not hang around for a few days, then come back with flowers begging you to forgive him. you just have to give him time.

he’s a very impulsive person, so you quite literally never have have any idea what he’s gonna do the next minute. he might grab you and throw you into the water when you’re on hms pogue like he’s done before, so you’ve learnt to always expect the unexpected with him.

you’re literally his partner in crime, trespassing old houses and stealing little things together. you both also have the talent of making lies on the spot and also making them match, so that’s a win.

[c3berus]

I need more Price x husband 😿😿

I’m biting at the bars of my cage please 🙏

let’s not harm those precious chompers love. what happens when the 141 boys see Prices hubby working out in the gym and want to play with him?

you had been lifting for god knows how long, hyper aware of yours husband’s work buddies’ looks. you had been here for a little over a month so everyone was pretty comfortable with each other. you had a good idea of what they were looking at, it was the marks littered along your torso. you and john got a bit hammered and had some playtime, no biggy.

you were thrown out of your thoughts by your husband sitting himself on your lap as you bench pressed. “hey lovie” he said eyeing his marks on you in silent pride. you glanced at him before smirking “hey bear, need something?” you replied.

he started to pepper kisses down your stomach, tongue tracing your tattoos, “just you” he teased. you racked the weights before sitting up, capturing john in a heated kiss, not missing the groans the other men let out. you broke the kiss stopping john from going for another one by placing your thumb along his lip.

“your boys are here, bear, surely you wouldn’t want them to see their very own captain hollering to the heavens? yeah?” you reminded him, your thumb finding space resting on his tongue. his eyes were darkened with arousal as he thought about you referring to them as ‘his boys’ and them seeing him reduced to nothingness. ‘I’m sure they’d love to play with us” he replied slightly muffled from your thumb. you hummed before pushing your slightly longer than average hair out of your face.

“go ask, pretty boy. then, we might play together if you’re ready for it, only if you say yes. then come find me” you finalized getting your things and walking out as he made his was to the ghost, gaz and johnny.

“you muppets up for some fun with the mister?” he boldly asked. johnny and kyle spurted out excuses as ghost remained silent. “none ‘o that, im giving you the green light considering you’ve been eyeing him since he’s been here, didn’t think i noticed?”

prices words caused humiliation to stir in them at being caught. “‘m sorry cap, we’l-you can make it up to me by being at my door in 15, feel free not to come as well, no pressure” price interrupted kyle, turning on his heels and head to find you.

true to their word, the boys showed up 15 minutes later, pants growing tight at the sound of you and prices sensual sounds. they way you filthily talked to price then praised him getting them going. Johnny knocked, waiting for someone to welcome them in. John let out a guttural ‘come in’ before continuing to moan.

as the the boys headed into the room they immediately flushed at the sight. you had John pretty much in a full nelson, pumping in and out of him brutally as he squirmed in pleasure, dark eyes locked on the three that just walked in. then, they trailed their eyes to you. you were covered in a thin layer of sweat, tattoos on full display and gosh were you hung.. their thoughts were interrupted by your voice. “you just gonna sit there with your mouths gaped or are you gonna strip? who calls bear next”

you didn’t have to tell them twice, you heard the sound of clothes falling as curses being thrown around. thus, the night began.

[tojiswhore-aventurinesslut]

Okay but imagine watching Jing Yuan training.

You're tucked away far enough that he won't see you but you can still admire his shirtless form.

You can see the way his muscles ripple as he arcs his weapon, swinging it and moving in practiced stances. His hair moves just as gracefully as he does, as if it too is practiced in the intricate forms he weaves.

He makes it look effortless the way he dances around, lunging and parrying the air. Centuries of discipline and practice have made his moves second nature. The only indication of his exertion is the sweat darkening the hair around his face and dripping down his chest, making it glisten in the setting sunlight.

But even still, his moves are unrelenting. He never slows, never wavers, never misses a single step. He's had centuries to train his body, and train he has. His physique is one of a warrior, with strong, lean muscles. He's nimble but his strength is unmatched. Others pale in comparison to your General, you think, as your eyes trace a particularly provocative drop of sweat down his back.

"Enjoying the show?" A deep voice says.

You snap out of your reverie and look up. His back is to you and you're quite a distance away. He must be speaking to someone else.

At least, that's what you think until he turns and faces your direction.

"Well? You can come out. I'm just about done." He lowers his weapon, smiling.

You extricate yourself from what you originally thought was a perfect hiding spot and begin your walk of shame. You supposed you should've known better. Rarely anything gets past the General.

When you approach he's drinking from his water bottle, and you watch as his adams apple bobs with each drink. You find yourself also quite parched, especially as you get to see his glistening, muscled torso up close.

He finishes his water and meets your gaze, breathing hard, "I hope I was able to entertain you some. I can't imagine watching me train is particularly fun."

Your face burns. Has he no idea how enticing he looks?

"I would disagree. Watching you train is a treat. I've never seen someone move so gracefully. I apologize for hiding, I just didn't want to disrupt you."

He chuckles, "having a few onlookers wouldn't be enough to bother me. After all, I do train Yanqing and occasionally lead drills for the cloud knights."

He looks at you but you avoid his gaze, everything about him is just too much. The way his chest expands with each panting breath he takes, the darkened hair sticking to his face, the beads of sweat dotting his chest. You're worried you'll give yourself away.

"Mm yes that's true I suppose...I should probably get going though. Again, I apologize for the interruption." You give a polite bow, but when you come back up he's softly smiling at you with a knowing look in his eyes.

"Very well. If you ever wish to watch me train, you may do so. No need to hide."

You blush again, "Understood. Thank you, General."

"Jing Yuan. Please. Just call me Jing Yuan."

You cast your eyes away from his lest he see through you anymore.

"Very well...thank you, Jing Yuan. Have a pleasant evening." You bow again before turning to leave. You can feel the General's eyes on you as you go. What was that man thinking? You had no way of knowing, but perhaps you could come back tomorrow and find out.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Leader of the Pack 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: On a night out at the bar, you're promoted from wing woman to main star.

Characters: James Conrad, short!reader

Note: it’s hump dayyyy.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"Go grab us a pool table," Martyna demands as she leans on the bar. 

"Oh, sure," you turn to search the bar. There's only one table and it's taken. You frown. "Someone's already on it." 

"So what? Go put a stack of quarters on it," she says, "I can't. I gotta get my drink." 

"Right, er," you teeter on your feet and look back at the table, one man lining up his shot as the other watches, his thick hands around his cue.  

The shooter snaps the stick and the clack of balls is sharp and strong. You near nervously, pulling out change as you keep just outside their perimeter as the second man considers his turn with a suck of his teeth. Where he's burly, with a shaggy dark beard, and faded ball cap, the other man has blonde hair and is lithe. They are both tall, though the slimmer man has at least an inch on the other. 

You step forward as the man aims from the other corner. You set down four quarters in a stack, just enough to feed the table for another round. The thicker man pauses as he pulls back the cue and narrows his eyes. 

"Eh, you're gonna mess me up," he barks. 

"Oh, sorry," you recoil and fold your hands over your chest, "I was only..." 

You quiet as he grumbles and shakes his head, eyes pinpointing on the felt. You shake your head and back up as the other man tisks. 

"Syverson, don't have to be so rude, the lady is merely claiming her turn," the slender man intones, just a foot from you as he twirls the cue, it's butt set to the floor. "Don't fret over my companion," he girds in his peculiar accent, "he's a sore loser." 

"Heh, what's that about..." the other man hits the cue ball and sends a striped one into the pocket, "losing?" 

You're quiet, nodding as you try to think of the proper response. No one's ever called you a lady. Most people don't notice you. It's why Martyna prefers you as her wing woman, you keep her company until she finds someone fun. 

"Rather, you set me up finely," the first man retorts. 

You cross your arms protectively and back up, making sure you're out of the broader man as he stalks around to place his next shot. His friend watches calmly, unbothered as he knocks another ball in, then lines up for the third. That one's a miss. 

"Shit," the man in the ball cap stands straight and sends you a look. You're not even close to the trim. 

"Oh, don't even try to blame her," the blond reprimands, "that's not very valiant, is it?" 

"Whatever," the other grumbles as he plants his feet and watches the other. 

The slimmer man puts his first shot easily in the corner, the next he sends two balls into opposite pockets, and the next sees him with only the eight ball left to sink. His opponent huffs and shakes his head. You rock back and forth, you hope he wins if only to clear the table. 

"Finally," Martyna nudges you as she comes up beside you, "they didn't have Corona, you believe that?" 

"Oh, that's crummy," you say, watching the mam measure his shot. 

"Mmph, I know you don't give a crap," she scoffs, "why didn't you grab a ginger ale?" 

"I'm fine, just had that iced coffee," you shrug. 

She hums again. She knows you don't drink, that this isn't your scene, that you're not exactly a social butterfly, so why does she act so disappointed. She invited you. It's always her idea, never yours. You just go along, otherwise you'd have nothing to do and no friends.  

"Kinda cute," she leans over to whisper, "look at his shoulders..." 

You lower your brow as your cheeks burn. You hadn't really thought of that. Then, you wonder, which one she's talking about. They both have nice shoulders and muscular arms. 

They're strangers! You shouldn't think of that. You uncross your arms and once more clasp your hands together. 

The man finally shoots, calling left pocket. He calls it true. The ball rolls in and his buddy sighs and swears. 

"Nice," Martyna pops her lips off her bottle of flavoured vodka, "our turn." 

She steps and grabs the quarters. The bearded man tilts his head at her and fixes his camouflage cap. His cheek dimples as the other man rounds the table and pats his shoulder, "better luck next time, chap." 

"Isn't luck," the burly one utters and rolls his eyes, "hustler..." 

"And yet you keep falling for it," the other snickers, "come on, I'll buy you a celebratory pint, eh?" The blond turns and strides toward you. "Miss, you're up." 

He offers the cue and your lashes flick. You couldn't see his eyes before. They're so blue. You gulp and accept the wooden stick. 

"Thank you," you squeak. 

Martyna chuckles and grabs the triangle frame from the slot and sets it out. The blond leads away his second, the man with the beard sending a glance at Martyna as she loads the quarters to release the balls. You wait for her to set up, standing back with the cue in hand. You can still feel the warmth of its previous holder's grip. 

Martyna swigs from her bottle and sets it back on the trim. She fluffs her black curls and makes a pouty face. She's not doing that for you. 

You glance behind her, those men are watching. The blond nods cordially and returns his attention to the bar. The beard one continues to leer in Martyna's direction. You spin back. 

"You wanna break?" You ask. 

"Sure, whatevs," she turns to the table. 

You wait patiently as she scatters the balls. She sinks two solids. She's always been better at this than you. You don't mind losing. It doesn't make much of a difference. 

She sinks two more before your turn comes. You regret not grabbing a soda as you mouth grows dry. Martyna is sure to loudly tell you about this guy she works with and how much he wants her. You just humour her with smiles and mhmms. It isn't you she wants to hear her. You know her tricks. 

You sink a stripe, then a solid. Back to Martyna. You aren't very good at the game. Your arm's are too short. Maybe if you could get on the table you'd have a chance but that's not proper. 

She narrows the solids down to two plus the eight ball. You try your hand again. Scratch. But she misses her shot and you get another go. You sink two before you're done. Still, you're behind. 

She empties her bottle, a dramatic gulp that extends her whole body. She outshines you in all aspects; her hair, her looks, her height, her clothes... 

She wiggles her but as she bends to clean up. One ball, then two, then she lines up for the final blow. The eight. She calls the corner. She bounces it easily into the pocket and squees and hops, her shirt doing little to contain her amped up excitement. 

You lean the cue against your arm and give a clap, "good job, Mart," you say. Genuinely. It was fun enough.  

"Aw, you did good," she preens, "how about a rematch? Got any more change?" 

"Ahem," a voice interrupts as you grab your purse. The jangle of change comes from behind you and a shadow steps forward, "perhaps you might want to make it interesting? Fancy a round of pairs?" 

You glance over at the man with blond hair and lilted accent. Well, you look at his sleeve and follow it up. His profile is well-forged. If you had a type, he might be it. You never considered many men, they never considered you either. 

"Pairs?" Martyna toys with proposal coyly and eyes the bearded man as he comes up beside his friend, "I guess it makes sense. But girls vs boys?" 

"No fun," the blond agrees, "we might mix it up, eh?" He grins, "James," he touches his chest, "this is--" 

"Sy," the other man, who you called Syverson, speaks up, "ladies." 

"Martyna," your friend rolls out. 

You offer your name in a pitchy stammer. You already feel like the odd one out. The tension is thick enough to choke you. 

"Sy, fetch us some cues," James demands, "I'll claim a partner," he looks over at you, "do you mind?" 

"Oh, er, yeah, but um, I'm not very good," you say, certain he must have been able to see as much from across the room. 

"I'm certain we'll work fabulously together," he assures. 

"Here," Sy returns with two sticks, nearly jabbing the James with the spare.  

You cling to your cue and fidget. You have no idea what to do now. Someone has to begin. 

"I'll break," Sy insists. 

"Of course, loser's first," James quips. 

He gets an arch of the thick brow in return before Sy bends to aim between two fingers. You dig your nail into the wood of the cue in your hand. James sidles closer, crowding you as you catch a hint of something citrus. 

Sy bends and pulls back the cue. He hits the ball and sends it zooming fast enough to crack the triangle on the other end. The stripes and solids scatter, bouncing all around. James chuckles and leans towards you. 

“You’ll see he’s about strength, he doesn’t realise the significance of precision,” he intones, “I can show you. It isn’t about how hard you hit but the exact angle,” he tilts his hand to demonstrate as the balls still but non fall into the pockets. “Ladies first.” 

You don’t move right away. At first, you don’t get his meaning. You lift the cue and approach the table. You look around. It’s your choice; stripes or solids. Whatever you can get, as usual. 

That number four is hovering right at the side pocket. It’s an easy score. You’ll take it. 

You position yourself, overly aware of your audience. It feels like the whole bare is watching. You blow out your breath and set your sights. You pull back and snap forward. The cue ball wobbles in its path but hits true, knocking the four into the hole. 

It isn’t exactly precise. You stand straight and let out and oomph as your back meets an unexpected wall. James brings his arms up and puts his hands around yours. His proximity is suffocating. 

“You’ve got an easy in on the five,” he advises, guiding you to bend with him as he directs your stick. “Loose,” he wiggles your front hand and squeezes your back hand. “Keep it like this, not too high.” 

He holds you like that for a moment then draws back. He steps to the side and crosses his arms. You focus on the ball, your skin speckling with heat. His scent lingers, perhaps a touch of orange in his cologne. You keep your hold loose and grip tight the butt of the cue. You shoot and the white ball clacks off the red solid, sending it neatly into the corner. 

Martyna giggles and you look up. She’s not laughing at you. Sy is muttering something to her. You blink and stands straight, glancing over at James. You understand what this is but you’re the placeholder, the wing woman, you just keep the friend busy while she has her fun. You know how this ends. 

“You’ve got another go,” James says. 

You nod dumbly and face the table again. You search for your best hope and shift around to the other side. You nearly cross your eyes in your efforts to bounce the ball from one wall into the opposite pocket. You just miss. You cringe and back away. 

Your gaze meets James’ as you find him watching you still. Martyna moves to line up her shot, giggling over her shoulder as she does. As you edge away from her, that man’s eyes follow you. They’re so blue. So, intense. 

You look at the tip of the cue and tap your thumb to the side. You’re in your head. He’s not really staring. When you peek up again, he hasn’t looked away. Not even as you hear the balls hit. He winks and your chest pounds in disbelief.

This can’t be real. 

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Lens Flare

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Description: Over the past three months, your career has grown by leaps and bounds. Yet at the same time, you can't help feeling dissatisfied. A lot of your feelings stem from what you did the last time you saw him. Jake Seresin. Lieutenant Jake Seresin. It had been fun, in the hangar, under the dead of night - passionate and hot. So too had been the video you filmed and the pictures you'd snapped. But hindsight, well, maybe there is a reason why they say "Hindsight is Twenty-Twenty". Because Jake hasn't called, despite how badly you want him to. A new assignment in North Island might have the potential to change everything for Jake and our Shutterbug, including how they approach everything they hold dear.

Warnings: Once again, this is just some porn with plot. The feral plot bunnies ran away with me, I fear.

Word Count: 8502

A/N: Hiya everyone! I'm baaack! Enjoy this sequel to my fic Photo Finish. It's just as smutty and gorgeous as the last one!

This fic is brought to you all by the constant support of @horseshoegirl, @sarahsmi13s and @desert-fern. You're all my heroes and I love you to bits for keeping me from ditching this story before it even started! I couldn't have written it without you!

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

An old photography teacher of yours once told you never to submit photos with lens flares to any publication, magazine or contest. He considered lens flares the biggest mistake for a rookie photographer. He’d declared, quite adamantly in front of your entire class, using your pictures as examples, how lens flares made photos look cheap and low quality. Given his dislike of the trick of light, he’s also taught you a plethora of tricks to prevent them. Over the many, many years since you left his class, you’ve started to relax and deviate from the rigid rules of photography he once taught you. For a large portion of your career, you've been photographing subjects which cannot be posed in a studio, which helps. Every snick and whir of your camera feels like you are letting go of rules and embracing your art.

You’ve always heard wildlife photography has a tendency to relax photographers' attitudes. It’s a truth you’re very thankful you had the chance to experience. After all, there are no rules when it’s just you, your camera and what feels like the entire world a hair's-breadth away from your camera lens. It’s hard to be frustrated with the sun glancing across your camera lens when it highlights fox kits gamboling in dewy spring grass. Or elk on a frost-bitten winter morning with clouds of their breath dissipating into the clear air. Those pictures were once-in-a-lifetime shots, perfect in their imperfection and richer with the sparkling halos of light.

Being back in New York after years of traveling has made you appreciate the photographs you took even more. Now you feel like you can fully appreciate the wilderness in them. New York is wild in an entirely different way. It’s louder, greyer, more populous, yet just as vibrant. In New York, you’ve been able to capture human nature, snapping minuscule interactions between people who are always in a hurry and always moving. But you also have to work to make enough money to fund your passions. Not having to travel helped bring some stability to your passions. But of all of the things you thought you'd be photographing, fashion models and clothes were never an option. In a way, photographing fashion and fashion models is capturing another kind of wild animal in your lens sights. Models and designers are wholly proprietary and protective over what they consider theirs, whether their clothing or their aesthetic appearance. You’ve had to shoot and reshoot, as well as touch up your photos more than you've ever had to before. Of course, in this case, your primary objective is to make the models and the clothes they are wearing look otherworldly and incredible. 

At first, the thrill of doing something new was alluring and exciting. But after a year, trapped in New York City, doing the same thing and working with the same people day in and day out, you can’t help but miss wildlife photography. It's like a persistent ache below your breast bone, something calling you back to the life you lived before. You're missing traveling in arid deserts and verdant forests even more now. And then the US Navy came calling. Now, while you miss the wilderness, you think you might just miss something else, more.

It’s late, half-past three in the early hours of the morning, and you’re sitting out on the balcony attached to your overpriced shoebox of an apartment. You’ve found yourself sitting out here more and more as the summer heat turns into the cool of fall. Your balcony is so small there’s only room for a single chair, and your feet are propped up on the wrought iron railing. New York’s the city which never sleeps and the crackle and groan of the city resonates around you. Your oldest camera, a Canon you bought in college with the pennies and dollars you’d saved from tips earned from waitressing, sits on your lap. All night, you’ve been trying and failing to chase away how unsettled you’ve been feeling by peering through the viewfinder and trying to see things from a different perspective. 

But it hasn’t worked. You've been feeling discomfited of late, unsettled and restless. Maybe your listlessness has something to do with your next assignment. You can’t lie, not even to yourself no matter how hard you try. It has everything to do with your next assignment. You should be excited. You should be asleep, because at least if you were asleep, the time would pass sooner. For once, you will not be photographing a new designer collection. In the morning, you're flying to San Diego to take pictures at North Island Naval Base for a follow-up piece sanctioned by the US Navy. Your team is joining you, which should be a comfort, albeit slight and slim. There will be more planes to photograph and possibly shots you can take from within the cockpit or from up in the air.

It took three months to publish the article on the US Navy’s newest hotshot aviation squadron. There had been countless revisions and rounds of approval with the US Navy's Office of Public Relations to greenlight the endeavor. It's been exactly the same amount of time since you met the Dagger Squadron, too - only three months after you edited the photographs, focusing maybe a little too much on one face in particular. Three months after you took the biggest risk of your life, professionally and personally. Three months after you made a sex tape with a client. It doesn’t help that he was a memorable client, too - and how you haven’t been able to forget him.

It's only been two weeks since the magazine hit newsstands with your picture of the Daggers in all their finery near one of the jets on the front cover. Everywhere you go, it seems you see their faces - his face. Your phone has been ringing off the hook ever since. Everyone wants you to take professional portraits of their clients. But your phone has never had the voice you so desperately want to hear on the other end of the line. It's a nationally distributed magazine, after all, and like everything nowadays, published both physically and digitally. The magazine had also mailed special copies to each member of the squadron which was your subject. So he has to have seen it. So why hasn't he called? It's the one question on your mind. It may be the only question on your mind, but it's far from the only thought in your mind. 

Chances are, he doesn’t want to talk to you at all. After all, why would he want to?

You couldn't silence the thoughts if you tried - and you have tried, repeatedly. Getting drunk made you maudlin, going out had you seeing his face in every stranger’s and getting laid had made you wish you were with him rather than anyone else. Over and over again you’ve found yourself thinking about those last few moments with him, agonizing over every detail, from the kisses and touches to the last time you saw him. Maybe you hadn’t been entirely clear in your note to him. You can recall the note as if you wrote it yesterday, the note you'd affixed to the flash drive you handed him.

Sure, you told him to call you when he was in New York next. But really, you wanted him to call you, period. Or text you. Something, anything to show you’re lingering in his memory in the same way he lingers in yours. You thought your dalliance had been memorable enough. You hoped you were memorable enough. After all, it's not every day you let a man fuck you up against his jet and record it, forget a man you’ve known only for a few days. Maybe it’s a little silly how attached you’ve gotten to him, given the short time frame, after what should have been completely meaningless sex. 

But it’s not meaningless anymore, at least not to you, after how many times you've seen the video since you last saw him. Your camera hadn’t hidden a single thing when you made your little home movie all those nights ago. You’ve seen how his hands had been gentle, his eyes soft. Your entire countenance had been beckoning, beguiling in the throes of passion, needy in a way you’ve never let yourself be before with anyone else. He’s also spoiled you for any other man on the planet - or at least in New York. You haven’t hit the same heights since him, and a part of you is sure you never will again. And now you have to enter the lion’s den, venture right into enemy territory with your head held high and only a camera to shield your too-hungry gaze.

A thump on the railing drags you out of your reverie. Your neighbor’s escape-artist black cat makes himself at home on the railing, paws flexing as his tail lashes through the humid night air. Like you’re in a dream, you lift up the camera and peer through the viewfinder. Tonight, everything seems to be coming back to lens flares. The neon lights fracture in your camera lens, softening the visage of the cat on the railing, green eyes luminescent. With reflexes born of years of wildlife photography, partially stunted after nearly a year of fashion photography, you depress the shutter with a soft snick and a near-silent whir. What you’re left with is a long exposed image - neon lights blurring in the background as one shines behind the cat’s head. Even his fur is blurred, only green eyes in focus, piercing into your soul. It’s perfect, as expected, and you hope it’s an omen for the days to come while you’re in San Diego.

Green eyes, different from those of your neighbor’s cat, haunt you, even more, the following day as you pile out of one of the minivans the studio rented for you and your team, as well as all of your equipment, on the tarmac at North Island. The humid, sticky air stinks of jet fuel and salt water. The wind brushes past you, snatching at your hair and ripping your sun hat right off your head. It's hot as it brushes by, providing no relief to the insistent heat.

Your team just laughs as you chase, bedraggled and exhausted, after your hat. The wind pushes you towards the hangars at the end of the tarmac, colossal doors thrown open while rows of jets stand gleaming. For the first time, you think you understand why Jake is so in love with being up in the air in his jet, how close to the elements he must be with adrenaline coursing through his system. You raise the camera resting against your chest, leaving your hat to fly where it wants, because you have to capture this.

When your camera focuses, you start snapping with abandon, capturing the sun-drenched metal and heat waves rising off of the pavement.  You’re not sure what pictures the editors will select to go with the article the journalist is going to write. Regardless, you’re stealing the time to take some filler shots now, when it’s bright out still, and blindingly golden outside. Your team is far behind you, still clustered by the cars, as you trail between the shining metal hawks, cockpits closed and emblazoned with names and callsigns. Your heart stutters in your chest when you see his jet, the text dark and fresh, announcing he’s been promoted. So, he's still operating out of Naval Air Station North Island. 

Faintly, you can hear voices emanating from one of the open hangars, so you creep closer, your old Canon camera clutched to your chest like it can protect you. Twenty-four of the US Navy's best aviators are saturated in gold, settled in creaking plastic chairs. Jake’s at the podium, laser pointer in hand, completely relaxed as he talks about things you couldn’t understand if you tried. The light glints across his face, catching angelically on the burnished strands of his hair. A singular fluffy lock has broken free of his hair gel’s hold, trailing softly across his forehead. It makes your fingers ache to push it back into place. But you can’t, because you won’t interrupt or embarrass him. So you take pictures instead, breathlessly, silently, framing the aviators limned in gold like they’re deities waiting to go to war.

You’re not sure when it happens, but he sees you - bright green eyes colliding with yours, a nearly imperceptible frown creasing his brow before the skin smooths. He doesn’t look happy to see you. In a way, it makes sense. You were just a one-night stand, something sexy to indulge in - not someone he'd want to keep forever. The look lances through you, skewering you in place as the wind and sun stick your blouse to your back. He doesn’t acknowledge you but for one curiously blank look, and you’re mortified as you walk silently back to your crew, who are now grouped around the jets in awe.

As expected, Adam and Lea, your stylists extraordinaire, are already scribbling away. Lea's flicking through the tablet in her hands. If you were a betting woman, you'd bet good money they are already planning outfits to take advantage of the blue, gold and white theme of North Island.

“Hey, Boss!” Amy, your assistant, is nearly bouncing in place with her excitement. You're not sure how she's so energetic despite the heat and the hours of travel. “Our liaison should be joining us soon. They'll give us a tour of the base and then show us where we'll be setting up shop this week.”

She doesn’t notice how frozen your smile feels and how mechanic your nods are. All you can think about is Jake. He must have known, right? What are the chances he didn’t know you were coming to North Island to take more pictures? There must have been some briefing or notice informing the aviators why you're here. After all, you’re here to photograph the Dagger Squadron. Then why was his face so blank when he saw you earlier? Thinking about him is driving you crazy, but you're not sure you can stop. All you want is to know whether he could ever feel as strongly for you as you do for him.

When your liaison walks up ten minutes later, you’re pleasantly surprised to see you have not one liaison, but two. Neither of your Navy appointed liaisons is Jake, something which you should have expected, but you were still hoping for regardless. Lieutenant Commanders Trace and Floyd are smiling from ear-to-ear as they greet your team by name. Lea and Katie seem especially enthused at seeing the soft-spoken bespectacled WSO again. Lieutenant Commander Trace is her same unflappable, cool, collected self. Her presence and dry sense of humor has you in stitches as you and your team follow behind her like a herd of ducklings. There are familiar faces around what seems like every corner of the base. But none of the faces are the face you still want to see so desperately.

Jake Seresin shows up again as you’re oooh-ing and ahh-ing over the big hanger, burnished yellow, orange, red and pink in the light of the sun. You’ve got your camera up to your face, lips pursed in concentration, eyes squinting as you peer myopically through the viewfinder. It's his voice you hear first. Just hearing it, with the same rough timber, makes you remember what he told you, before you fell into his arms and headfirst into this situation with Jake Seresin.

God, baby. You killed me this morning. Wearing that pretty little skirt and those high heels. I wanted to bend you over and fuck you until you were leaking my cum.

It’s not a good sign, is it? How you’re unable to even look at his face without giving yourself away. The evidence of your feelings must be on your face, which feels uncomfortably hot. The heat is completely unrelated to San Diego's sky-high temperature and you shy away from eye-contact when you pivot and face the rest of your team, and the trio of Lieutenant Commanders. The sight of him hits you in your solar plexus, robbing your breath and leaving your palms uncomfortably clammy.

“Hi.” 

It’s a quiet greeting, your voice swallowed by the sight of him. It feels like your tongue is two times bigger than it should be in your mouth, unwieldy as you force it to move like you want it to. He doesn’t hear you, or even acknowledge you standing there waiting for him to notice you. Standing there, you finally realize how big a gulf there is between you and Lieutenant Commander Jake Seresin.

It's a sharp contrast. He's standing there in his khaki uniform crisp and new, blond hair dark at his temples from the shower he must have taken. In contrast, your shirt is covered in wrinkles, your hair is frizzy with flyaways escaping your braid and your worn jeans are butter soft but have definitely seen better days. He ignores you for the rest of the afternoon. It hurts, of course it does, when he doesn’t notice you in the same way you notice him. But you have a job to do. You can’t - you won’t - jeopardize your career for a man, not even a man as beautiful as he is.

The now-trio of Lieutenant Commanders shows you the Officer’s ready room, where you'll be setting up for the interviews. Each member of your team is also given a badge on a lanyard allowing you limited access to certain areas of base. Soon enough, you're left to survey the ready room and prepare your team for the days ahead.

“I know it's been a long day already for you all.” Your smile is a little wry as you continue, “It's been a long day for me too. All I want is to unwind and get out of these heels!”

You let the scattered chuckles from your team peter out before continuing.

“Before I can do so, we need to sync up on what we're going to be focusing on over the next few days.”

“First and foremost on our list? Getting pictures of the Daggers while they are being interviewed. The interviewer is an old friend of Admiral Kazansky's and will be spotlighting each of the Daggers. As a part of the interview, we will be expected to get photos of each member of the squadron in their flight suits, their khaki uniforms and their dress uniforms.”

You raise your hands up to stall any questions. “I'm aware this isn't exactly the type of photo shoot we're used to. Katie, you’ll be on hand to help with their make-up during the interview. We're keeping it light and subtle. For the interview photos, we want the aviator's uniforms and medals to shine.” 

“Seb and Kris - the two of you will be measuring the light levels in this room during various times of day and setting up artificial studio lights as necessary. I'll also need you both to check on the lighting situation in the big hangar we were in with the desks and the United States flag on the wall.”

“Adam and Lea, it may not sound like it yet, but I will need you both on your A-games. By special request of Admiral Mitchell, we've been asked to stage a beach bonfire. He wants this interview to echo the beginnings of this squadron. They became a team on the beach and now they are a family. I'm thinking we need cozy textiles and bright winter-toned colors. I'll leave the color palette to you both. All I ask is we have a cohesive palette for the squadron as a whole. As always, measurements for the aviators are included in this dossier. One of the minivans is yours. Our office in San Diego knows to expect you both.”

It doesn’t surprise you at all when Adam and Lea make a beeline for the doors as soon as you’re done with them. You’ve worked with them both long enough to know how they operate. They’ll be downtown and looking through the clothing on display before you can blink.

“Ames, while I run point with the admirals,  you'll be sourcing the beachfront we can use for the bonfire. I'm not sure who you'll need permission from, but there might be a bar owner who can give us permission.”

Before long, it feels like you're the only island of calm in the entirety of base. Seb and Kris wander in and out of the room, measuring the light and carting in and out lighting equipment. Even the teleconference you have with the Admirals, both of whom are in Hawaii, due to fly back in a couple of days, goes smoothly.

Over the next few days, you find yourself building on the rapport you created with 6 of the aviators in the Dagger squad in the following days. You also meet the other half of the Dagger Squad. But at the same time you are building a relationship with the other Daggers, it feels like you're losing the relationship you once had with Jake.

The only time you see him during the four days of interviews and pictures is when he is being interviewed. Even then, he spends more time chatting with Amy and Katie than you. Even when you address him directly, he's silent, content to play puppet to your puppet master and then disappearing to an area off base you don't have access to. It hurts, and you’re starting to get weird looks from the other Daggers. They’re all too polite, or too cognizant of their positions in the Navy to ask you any prying questions. At least, until the bonfire.

It hadn’t been difficult to organize at all, in the end. All Amy needed to do was speak to the proprietress of The Hard Deck, a little bar a few miles off base. Penny had been more than happy to hand over the usage of the beach outside her bar for the night. The combination of good food, even better alcohol, and of course, no interviews relaxed the Daggers enough for you to get the candid shots the magazine was looking for. Halos of light spark across your screen with each snap you take - lens flares sparking to life, again and again.

“Why aren’t you hanging out with Jake?”

The question makes you jump and nearly chuck your lens cap into the bonfire. You fumble awkwardly as you try to collect your composure.

“Lieutenant Commander Trace. What can I do for you?”

Your voice is a little shaky as you wheel around and face her.

“You don’t have to do anything for me!” She’s smiling at your discomfort, something wicked curling her lips. “And anyways, didn’t I tell you to call me Natasha three months ago?”

 You’re smiling despite yourself at her antics.

“It’s good to see you again, Natasha.”

“Forget about me. Why aren’t you talking to Jake?” 

You should have known she wouldn’t be able to let it go.

“Three months ago, you could barely keep your eyes off of him and the same was true of him. He went out of his way to chat you up every chance he got. And now? Something happened between the two of you after we all left the hangar, and now neither of you is talking. You were fine when you showed us the pictures the next day. But now?”

You shrug, lifting your camera up to snap another couple of pictures of the squadron having fun.

“Oh my god. I can’t with the two of you. Either you walk over there and talk to him, or I’m going to get him to talk to you!”

You grab her arm before she can march away.

“I can’t, Natasha.”

You try grabbing for her, but before you can, she’s already gone. His eyes cut over to yours the more she speaks, and you’re not sure you like the way he’s glancing over at you. Your heart is in your throat as he skirts around the bonfire and sidles up to you.

“What are you doing here? Natasha has this crazy idea you’re heads over heels for me, but the way you’ve been acting says differently. So what are you doing here?”

His voice is so quiet you can barely hear it over the crackling bonfire. His face doesn’t change its expression once the entire time he’s speaking to you, barring one tiny, blink-and-you-miss-it smirk. Once again, you have to thank Adam and Lea for their work because the Lieutenant Commander looks good enough to eat in his sweater and butter-soft jeans. But you know he's not happy to see you. The disappearing act he's been pulling ever since he saw you outside the hangar four days ago is proof.

“You know what I’m doing here, Jake.” 

“You're taking photos for another article. I know, I know.”

His smirk deepens, eyes twinkling maddeningly as he prowls closer to you.

“But between you and me, it’s just the official excuse, isn't it?” He tugs at a strand of your hair, reeling you closer to him. “But unofficially, I bet you want more of me. Maybe you want to make yourself another home movie? See my handprint on your ass cheeks again?”

His words have heat rising to your face, never mind how your skin already feels too toasty from how you've been huddling near the bonfire all night to keep yourself warm. Form-fitting dresses are not beachwear, especially not in late November. But you’re dressing to impress, wearing sharp blazers and business frocks. Add to the dress the camera and purse you’ve got over your shoulder, and you’re definitely not equipped for the beach.

“How do you know what I want?”

Your voice is thready and light, and your head spins the closer he gets to you. It's weird. You've been aching to have him this close to you all week, but now, when he is actually close to you again, you feel like it's too much, like he's too much. Every night in your hotel room, you've been coaching yourself to ignore him. You’ve had to in order to compartmentalize and be professional while on base. Yet, after only a few minutes in his presence, all your defenses are shredded like tissue paper.

“Because you're looking at me like this.”

Wafts of fragrant wood smoke drift by you and him as you stand mere inches away from each other. You can’t refute his statement. Not even a little bit, not even at all. You've never been able to mask your emotions, wearing your heart on your sleeve and your feelings in the pursed set of your mouth and the raise of your eyebrows. But you’re still not sure what you can say. If he’d propositioned you with the same vulnerable look in his eyes the first day you were in North Island, when he first saw you again, you would have folded like a cheap lawn chair. Then, you probably would have been more than content to pass on your expensive hotel room and make his lonely base apartment a little warmer. But he didn’t, and you’re not sure you can take the risk anymore.

Jake’s shoulders hunch, sinking into the impossibly soft cashmere of the sweater at your lack of response.

“I…” His smirk flattens, something like his Hangman mask taking its place. His shoulders never drop past his ears the longer you stand there with him at arm’s reach and pretend like you’re having a blast at this beach photoshoot turned bonfire party.

“I’ve read this all wrong, haven’t I?”

His sigh is gusty and almost too loud. “I was waiting for you to say something, because I’ve been dying to see you again. But then you ran away when you were taking pictures of the Top Gun class. Afterward, I - I didn’t know how to say I missed you, which is weird, I know. We only knew each other for a singular night.”

If your jaw isn’t on the floor already, you know it will be soon. Already, you’ve been getting too many questioning glances from your team and the Dagger Squadron. Then there is Natasha’s well-meaning meddling from a few minutes ago. Even the admirals have glanced over every once in a while at you and the normally cocky Lieutenant Commander standing in near silence. It’s not a conscious thought which has you whirling around in the silky sand and snagging a hand into his sleeve. You’re not sure why you’re doing it. All you know is if you’re having this out now, you need to have it out in private where it will not be injurious to your career or his.

Thankfully, Jake doesn't fight you as you pull him towards a corner of the parking lot. Your face feels flushed, and your chest heaves with panic at the thought someone could know what you and Jake did.

“I…” 

You cover his mouth with your hand, pretending the feeling of his skin on your hands doesn't burn, like you’re not completely aware of the masculine heat emanating from his skin. For several long moments, you stand in the shadows between two pick-up trucks in the parking lot. Each of your muscles is tense, waiting for someone to realize you've disappeared with Jake Seresin, of all people. You don’t want to think about the possibilities they were assuming. The prickling, uneasy sensation doesn't pass with the moments but does fade a little.

“What was that about, huh?”

You just glare in response.

“I thought it was better to have this conversation where we were less likely to be overheard, is all.” 

Your voice is prim, and your nose is tipped upward. It's obvious Jake doesn't feel the same way you do about this conversation, if he’s asking you questions like this.

“C'mon, sugar. If you wanted to let me down, you could have just said it by the bonfire. I promise I won't harass you.” His brow is furrowed as he thinks through all the implications of your statement. “Then or now.”

“I…” You fling your hands upwards, feeling this sudden urge to rage at the stars above you. How have things gotten so twisted? In your head and between you and Jake? 

“I don't want to let you down, Jake.”

You growl, then, because you know what you feel, but the words aren't coming out of your mouth the right way. He's patiently waiting for you to figure it out, lips pressed into a thin line, and green eyes scorching through you.

“I’m not rejecting you, Jake. When I came to North Island Naval Base and saw you standing in front of the lectern, I wanted you to smile when you saw me. I wanted some indication you felt the same way I did. I also wanted to kiss you, but it wouldn’t have helped then.”

You're smiling again, just a slight curve to your lips, a smile Jake is mirroring.

“Then you pretended I didn't exist. You pretended I was just someone you worked with before. Not someone who you were intimate with. Not someone whose life you changed with your stupid smile and your piercing eyes and your big, gentle hands. I…” 

To your embarrassment, you're sniffling and fighting back tears. “I didn't know why, or how to deal with it, so I just pushed back all my feelings. I pretended the same thing you did, and tried to ignore how much it hurt.”

“Fuck.” The quiet expletive echoes around you. “I messed this up, didn't I?”

He's pacing now, back and forth in front of you, shoes sliding through the gravel as he marches. He's ruffling his hair, face scrunched up in anguish at your words.

“I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. I've watched our video so many times, I know my favorite parts. Fuck, sweetheart, I even took the picture of your ass with my handprints on it with me when we were deployed a month ago. I was nearly given so many demerits because of how hot that picture is.”

Your heart seems like it’s going to burst out of your chest, beating as hard as it is. 

“So why didn’t you call?” The same plaintive, sad tone is in your voice again.

“What could I have said?” He’s finally stopped pacing back and forth at least. He flings his hands out from his hips “Sweetheart, I want you, I need you. I wish I could fly to New York right now to taste you again?”

You have to snicker at the sarcastic, sardonic note in his voice. 

“It’s a little melodramatic, but I would have taken it.” 

Just as quickly as you snicker, the laugh peters away into a gentle sigh. “All you had to do was tell me you missed me, Jake. All I wanted was for you to tell me you wanted to see me again.”

“Would it have mattered if I did?” 

He’s stepped closer again, close enough you can feel the heat of his skin against yours. One of his big hands cradles your jaw as he looms over you.

“I asked you a question, pretty girl.” There’s a smirk on his face as he ghosts his lips over yours.

“Why would my answer matter then?” You’re not sure where the sass is coming from, but it’s making Jake smirk even more. “Knowing the decision you made?”

Thankfully, you don’t have to think of a response with a brain wholly occupied by the man drawing you into his arms. You melt into the kiss like it's something visceral you've been missing. His hair still feels the same against the pads of your fingers, golden silk, as you wrap your arms around his neck. He still tastes like you remember, too, cinnamon and smoky spice intermingling on your tongue as he licks into your mouth. Your heart sings when he gently positions your camera so it isn’t crushed between the two of you.

You whimper when he pulls away, chasing after his mouth like you're addicted to it. He still kisses like he flies, you note dimly, thoughts far away. The car at your back is cool, the metal searing into your skin as the sun has long since set. But the cold temperature of the car has nothing on the man crowding you up against it. His eyes are lidded, gaze hot as he takes in the sight of you. The dual temperatures are enough to make you shudder.

“Look at you, darling.” His hands are just as hot as his gaze as he trails his hands down your sides. “A single kiss, and you’re aching for me.”

You can’t deny the effects this man has on you. In truth, the time for denial would have been some time before you made the movie at the hangar. You’re so far down this path there isn’t a way to turn back. 

“You want me just as much.” 

Your voice is quieter than the rush of the waves, yet loud enough you can see the impact as they hit his ears. He’s still just as fit as he was three months ago, all hard, hot muscle as he presses up against you, cedar and plum wafting through the air off his skin. You can feel the jut of him against your hip as he muscles you even further against the car, spreading you out like a meal he wants to eat. He transfixes you with a glare when he pulls away, even as he smirks at your breathy moan. You watch, eyes lidded, as he opens the truck door and sets your things on the broad seat. You’re panting with need when he comes back to you, body shivering as he leans into you again. His hands find their home against the curve of your waist, fingers still nimble as they focus on tracing your curves in a way which might be driving you just a little mad. You almost wish you were wearing a blouse and skirt again like last time, because at least then you could feel his hands spread across your ribcage, searing their heat into your bones.

You’re lost in him, utterly captivated by the way his tongue tangles with yours, the way he makes you moan. Unlike the rough, claiming kisses of your first sexual encounter with Jake Seresin, these kisses are tender and sweet. They’re searching and tasting, like he’s trying to learn what makes you tick and what makes you moan. In truth, it feels like he’s trying to take you apart only to put you together again. This time, you’re not sure you’ll ever be the same, forever changed by the man in your arms. 

“Fuck…” The word is an exhale pressed to your pulse-point, sticky, sweet, and blindingly hot. “Baby, let me take you somewhere other than this dusty, dirty parking lot. I think I really need to see you spread out on my bed this time.”

“Yes, please.” The words leave you in a strung out moan as you tug him closer, fisting your hands in his hair and sweater as you see fit. You’re past caring so long as he’s pressed so perfectly against you.

When he finally steps back from you, you’re gratified to see he looks just as rumpled and debauched as you feel. For a few moments, you stand there, drinking him in, hands aching to draw him close again, to touch him again. He takes your hand, entwining his fingers and yours. His hand dwarfs yours, skin slightly rough as his hand cradles yours. You let him lead you to the truck and help you in, because a part of you isn’t sure you’re going to be able to let him go even when you have to.

It’s silent, but for the sounds of the road as he starts his pickup, one hand never leaving its spot on your thigh. Your hands find the camera again, snapping with abandon the vista blurring past the windows and the man driving you. The streetlights halo through the lens view, speckling the pictures with circles of golden-butter light. It seems like time slips past in a slow trickle. You’re still looking through the camera when the engine cuts off, the sounds of the night trickling slowly back into your ears.

Jake’s eyes sear through you when you carefully gather your camera and bag up, legs shaky from that look alone as you step onto the pavement. His hand finds yours again, as you follow his broad back up a flight of stairs and through an unassuming white paneled front door. You’re surrounded by the cedar and plum of his cologne as you step in, the scent lightly drifting through the air. Jake crowds you against the door as soon as it closes, hands divesting you of your things even as his mouth slants over yours again. The heat sparking between you ignites again, a flame bursting to life in your chest, fed by the soft moans leaving his lips as you kiss him with wild abandon.

For much of the way to his bed, your eyes are closed. You trust Jake to lead you the right way, not to hurt you as you stumble and shudder your way through the apartment in his arms. His lips don’t leave yours once, moans ripping out of your mouth as he leaves you breathless. He’s far from quiet too, softly grunting when you tug on the hair at the nape of his neck, gasping open mouthed into yours as you rub at his bulge. Arousal bubbles in your veins, crashing over and through you. You squeal when he pushes you onto his bed, the mattress so firm it's almost hard as you bounce against it. Your hands shake as you fight with your clothes. Adrenalin makes you clumsy as you nudge your shoes off and fight futilely with the zipper at your back. Eventually you give up, choosing to lean back on your palms. When you look up, Jake’s staring down at you, eyes trailing from the curve of your mostly exposed legs up to your chest and back down again. He’s got his lower lips between his teeth, brow furrowed as he shrugs the sweater off.

Once again, you remind yourself to thank Lea for her work, because if you thought the shirt looked good buttoned up, it looks even better as it slips off his arms. He’s still wearing his dog tags, the silver chain glinting in the moonlight through the windows as he prowls over you.

“You’re still prettier than the pictures you take, baby.”

You feel like you are barely breathing as Jake licks into your mouth. The heat of his body grounds you, the points of contact just enough to tell you this is real.

“Breathe, beautiful.” His hands draw you up until you’re kneeling on the bed, your hands on his shoulders as you peer up into his eyes. Your resulting exhale is shaky as you drag in breaths with just enough oxygen to keep your head from spinning.

“Let’s get you out of this pretty dress, huh?”

“Jake.” His name falls out of your mouth like a prayer. His hands are practiced, sure as they drag the zipper down from the nape of your neck to the base of your spine. The fabric of your dress gapes forward until it’s around your waist.

Jake's eyes seem to glow in the moonlight as he takes in the simple black bra you're wearing, hands tender and hot as they drag over your bare skin, mouth wet and sharp as he drags his teeth across your collar bones.

“Mmm, baby.” His moan has you gasping, your body listing into his as he purrs the words into your skin. “I'm going to make you feel so good.”

When he lets go of you, your nipples are firm peaks in the cool air. When he removed your bra, you're not sure. All you know is you want him, desperately, urgently. Your panties feel like too much material as they cling to you, the gusset damp. Your hands are clumsy as you wrench the dress off, shaking as you peel your panties away from your skin, you flush as Jake's chuckles echo in your ears.

Divested of your clothes, you're faced with one of the prettiest sights of your life. Because, Jake’s standing there, with his belt unbuckled, and the jeans unbuttoned. His cock bulges out through the v-shaped opening, and your mouth waters as you look him over.

“God, Jake, please.” Your voice is a whine as you reach for him, fingers resting against his taut abdomen, back arched as you wait on all fours.

“I’ve got you baby.” 

His promises drip over your bare skin like hot and gentle summer rain. Your eyes close as he cups your jaw, the rustle of fabric foretelling his bare skin joining yours on the bed. You let him position you where he wants, drugged by the sensations of his big hands. You steal the opportunity to kiss him again, palms splayed over his pecs, and the cool chain of his dog tags brushing against your fingers. Falling into him is too easy. It’s just a series of kisses, a sweet tangle of tongues as you let him cradle you in his arms. Sparks of need, of want traverse your moon-stained skin, hips canting against his thigh in need.

“How long has it been since you’ve cum, sweetheart?” 

There’s amusement in his tone as you wrap your arms around his neck, breasts pillowed against his chest as you nudge his nose with your own.

“Just a couple of days ago.”

His chuckle makes you pout. 

“And how did you cum?”

He rolls you over, ghosting a kiss over your lips as he peers down at you. “Was it some guy you brought home? Who didn’t know how to make these pretty moans spill out of your mouth? Did he make you think of me the whole time?”

When you moan, it’s because he’s pressing into you, the stretch of him making your toes curl.

“N-no.” You screw your eyes up, trying to string the words together. “It was just me. With a vibrator, watching our video.”

“Fuck, there’s my good girl. Waiting for your Lieutenant Commander to make you scream, right?”

You’re so far beyond words all you can do is tug him down, fisting your hand in his hair until you can kiss him again. He’s just as eager to pull you in, hitching your legs up until they’re propped over his arms, keeping you spread open as he pistons his hips until you see stars. 

“Please, please, please.” 

You’re babbling, your orgasm crashing over you with each sharp thrust. Your moans intertwine with Jake’s guttural grunts as his hips stutter at their steady pace. It feels like you’ve been set on fire when you cum, pulsing waves of heat washing over your body. Jake’s shivering as he slumps over you, blanketing your body with his. His hair is sweat-damp as you card your fingers through the fluffy strands.

“Missed you, Jay.” 

“Missed you too, sweetheart.” The words are languid and soft, syrupy and sweet. 

It feels like you could fall in love with Lieutenant Commander Jake Seresin as he gathers you in his arms for what must be the hundredth time tonight to clean you up. Every glimpse of the man you see when he's not putting on his Hangman mask intrigues you more. There's a gentleness to him when he's like this, a secret softness shining past his imposing exterior. You want to know more. You have to know more. 

The realization of how little time you have left with Jake eviscerates you. Only two days left. Two days to love this man as much as you can. You can’t tell him how close you are to falling for him. Looking at his apartment, you have a feeling it would just scare him away. His apartment is almost austere, the off-white walls blending into the pale cream carpet on the floor. Everything is bare, with no pictures on the walls and no personality. It’s a trend throughout the entire space, everywhere but the bedroom. There's a cheery quilt at the foot of the bed. It's the only vibrant color in the apartment, the one thing which screams home.

“It's pathetic, isn't it?”  You jump at his words, gripping at the footboard of the bed in an effort to keep from falling.

“It's not pathetic, Jay. Just…” You turn, clad in the soft tee he'd pulled over you after the shower. “Just different than I expected.”

“I know what it looks like, sweetheart.” The same sad soft tone is in his voice again. “It looks like I don’t have any roots. Like I’m scared to let people in.”

He slides his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss on your shoulder, his golden hair dripping as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. “Maybe that is the truth.” 

Your heart breaks a little at the soft surety in his voice, even as he does his best impression of a koala around you.

“Because like it or not, I’m going to leave one day. I’ll have to leave one day. Another deployment. Another mission. And chances are, I may not be coming home.”

You clutch at him tighter, because right now, you’re not sure you can think about him not being in San Diego the next time you’re here.

“I was okay with my reality.”

When you wrestle your way out of his grip, you’re maybe a little too rough, evidenced by the grimace on his face as you walk away. You’re not sure where you’re going but away has to be enough. You’re not sure you can face him after he’s said something like this. After all, here you are, ready to risk it all in a sultry cross-country romance, ready to give your heart to him, possibly years of your life to him. Then there he is, admitting so callously he might not be coming home one day.

You’re staring unseeingly at the stars when he slides his arms around you again.

“Are you okay, Shutterbug?” 

You lean back into him, because he feels perfect against you still.

“Shutterbug is new.” You’re trying to change the subject, because if he’s insistent about it, you’re going to explode.

“Nuh-uh.” His hands turn you around until you’re looking at him again. “Tell me what’s bothering you, pretty girl.”

“You’re so callous about how you’re ready to never come home again! Why would you say that to me, Jake? I’m ready to risk everything for you. A cross-country relationship, half here, half in New York or really, wherever it’s convenient for us to meet. If you’re not willing to do the same, then what is the point of what we just did?”

You’re choking back a sob as you stand in front of him. Your eyes are screwed closed, hands wringing the hem of the t-shirt clothing you. 

“Why does it matter that you missed me, and that I missed you?”

“It matters, because, sweetheart, you didn’t let me finish what I was going to say.”

Your arms wrap around his waist easily as he tugs you closer.

“I was going to say, I was okay never coming home before you. You’ve been running around in my head, the center of every thought, the subject of my every dream for three months. You kept me going when we were deployed, too. All I wanted was to come home safe so I could fly out to New York and see you again.”

“Now, at least I know I’ll be welcome when I come by.”

You’re smiling from ear to ear as you kiss the underside of his jaw.

“Yeah, you will be.”

You're still smiling as you walk into the Officer's Ready Room at North Island the next morning. You've got the same swagger you had in your step the first time you and Jake crashed together. Only this time, you have his phone number on your phone and the promise of a romantic dinner for two tonight. You'd be lying if you said you weren't still worried about the long distance relationship, spending half your life in New York and half here. But more than anything, you're ready for the challenge and excited to. At least you know who you're going home to - and, he knows who he is coming home to, as well.

Taglist:

@desert-fern @horseshoegirl @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @dakotakazansky @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls @cherrycola27 @thedroneranger @a-reader-and-a-writer @hookslove1592 @mshistorylover @hangmanssunnies @kmc1989 @chaoticassidy

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

[bookmaker-untaken]

your husband stays getting on your last nerve

Hayato Suo X Reader // Wind Breaker x My Happy Marriage AU

Summary: The first tranquil image of this man was highly misleading. Suo Hayato's calm facade hides a cheeky devil that loves to tease, and unfortunately - you are the perfect (blushing) target.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Making Out, OOC!Suo, Probably (Look, I Tried), Non-Graphic Torture, Implied/Reference Abuse

Word Count: 4,106

i.

The man before you is the most beautiful you've ever seen.

He's leaning his cheek on his fist, a scroll rolled out over his lap. Cherry blossoms fly around the courtyard in a colorful tornado, some crossing the threshold and dotting the bright wood.

The wind rises to ruffle his brown hair.

"Hello," He croons. "Might you be my new wife?"

Your mouth feels dry. Everything - your fist, your jaw - is clenched tightly. "I- uh, yes."

His smile is polite, close - lipped, and his one eye is closed as well.

You can't read his face and it disquiets you.

"Lovely to meet you," He says. "I am Suo Hayato."

ii.

The first tranquil image of this man was highly misleading.

Suo Hayato's calm facade hides a cheeky devil that loves to tease, and unfortunately - you are the perfect (blushing) target.

You try to avoid them as much as you can, but it's not always enough.

Suo stares at you across the breakfast table. He's always watching, observing.

It freaks you out, warms your cheeks. "What."

He leans his chin on his palm. "You're cute."

"Huh!" You almost choke. How can he say such a thing so nonchalantly!?

The smile never leaves his face. "I just think your cute. I'm happy to have such a cute little wife,"

You are not little, or cute, but what comes out instead is, "I'm not your wife."

"Yet," He hums. "But you will be. And I, for one, am looking forward to it."

You cough. "Sure."

At least the maid, Yurie, does not share her young master's penchant for teasing. You were worried at first, not that you'd tell anybody, that she would dislike you as the maids at your house had.

To be wrong was a startling relief.

iii.

You have a few dreamless nights before the nightmares return.

In your dreams there are no monsters - only your mother and her mother, pelting you with subtle insults and ignoring your pleas.

You awaken in the middle of the night, eyes wet.

Unable to sleep, you start to make your way to the kitchen.

Across the courtyard, in an open door, sits Suo beside a kettle of tea.

His eye is closed and he seems tranquil, enjoying the cool night breeze on his face.

You retreat.

You will not allow him to see such weakness.

iv.

"I was asked to attend a banquet by my superior," Suo says. “I'd like you to come."

"Alright," You say, despite the very idea making your sick. Your mind flickers with candlelit dinners and thinly veiled insults.

“We should go shopping," Suo continues. "Your kimonos are from last season, aren't they?"

"I ... suppose," You shift awkwardly and hope he doesn't notice. Shopping, too, is an incredibly sore spot for you.

"Wonderful! It's a date!"

"D-date!" You jerk to attention. "It's not a date!"

"Why not?" Suo says, pout in his voice. "The two of us are going to do something fun together, aren't we?"

"It's just shopping! That's more like - a mission! Yes, a mission."

Suo seems to think for a second. "No, I like date better."

You scoff in disbelief.

v.

The town is bustling, full of throngs of people moving to and fro like a rushing lake, some haring their wears, some enjoying the nice weather.

You stay close to Suo, carful not to get lost.

So close, you walk into his back when he stops.

"Hayato!" The person at the counter cheers. "And who is this?"

"My wife," Suo says easily.

"H-his fiancée!" You stutter.

"Same thing," He says. "This is Tsubaki. Their family has made kimonos for the Suos for generations, though I do prefer Tsubaki's unique patterns and eye for design."

Something about being preemptively called a Suo makes you cheeks warm despite yourself.

"What a flatter, am I right?" Tsubaki grins at you. "At your service!"

You give a polite nod. "Nice to meet you."

Fabric brushes against your shoulder and you turn to a kimono - a very expensive kimono, more expensive than anything you've owned - being held up beside you. "Hmm. No."

"Do you have any sort of patterns or colors you like?" Tsubaki asks. You realize too late that the question is directed to you.

You take your eyes from Suo to stare at them blankly. "Um?" Normally, your used to being told exactly what to wear, dressed up like a little doll at the mercy of others. "Surprise me?"

"Sure!" Tsubaki disappears further into the store.

Suo stands beside you, far too close. "Your in good hands. Tsubaki has excellent taste," You can feel the heat of his breath and lean away slightly on instinct. “I'm sure they'll find something amazing.”

"Okay," You say, trying to keep any hint of nervousness out of your voice.

“Though," He says, near the tips of your warming ears. "I'm sure you'll look wonderful either way."

You arch away from him. "Sure!"

Your thankful when Tsubaki comes around the corner. "What about this one? Would you like to try it on?"

You glance to Suo. "You can do whatever you wish," He says. "We'll probably end up buying a few, anyway."

You follow Tsubaki to the fitting room.

"Would you mind ... waiting outside, please?"

Tsubaki looks slightly confused. "Are you sure? It might be hard to get into some of them alone."

"I ... please."

"Of course."

In the mirror, you seem distorted. You're vaguely aware that you've seemingly gained some wight, a consequence of them feeding you well at the Suo household - but a potential target nonetheless. Your stretch marks ripple across your skin, shining lightly in the sunlight that sneaks though the top windows of the shop.

"It looks nice on you." Suo looks up when you walk out. "Do you like it?"

You pause. Do you? You don't know. "I -"

"You hesitated." You slump, but go back into the fitting room.

Again you emerge, bashfully asking, "How about this one?"

"How about it?" Suo asks, seemingly fishing for an answer.

"No!" calls Tsubaki from the front of the store. "Not it!"

You return with the final kimono of the stack, padding your way out of the fitting room.

Suo's eye widens a fraction and he swallows.

You instinctively sink into yourself at the intensity of his gaze.

"Now we're getting somewhere!" Tsubaki says, bouncing over and turning you around. Looking between the two of you, they say. "Hey, this kimono is the same color as your eyes, Hayato!"

You look down, meeting the slightly hooded eye of your fiancée.

Tsubaki's right. "What do you think ... Suo?"

Suo's eyes flicker up, then down once more. For not the first time, you wish he was easier to read. "We're taking that one home Tsubaki.”

vi.

You try on a few more Kimonos before waving goodbye to Tsubaki.

The sun has risen higher and the streets seem even more crowded, if that where even possible.

Suo takes your hand.

His hand engulfs your own - unnaturally cold, fingers long.

You stop in your tracks with a sound like a record scratching.

"I don't want to lose you, dear," He says, as if it's the simplest thing in the world.

"You don't need to hold my hand, though!"

"Of course I do," He says.

The two of you continue, stopping at one of the small stalls for a snack.

It drips down your hand and your eyebrows furrow as you debate licking it up. You feel Suo's eye on you. It would be unladylike.

Suo chuckles at your hesitation. "I'll go get napkins from the stall."

You nod, taking another bite of your food.

For a moment, you feel something... calm.

"Hello there, pretty lady."

The man looms over you, casting a long shadow.

"You seem to be enjoying that treat. How’s about we go into that alleyway and I give you another?"

"I-I'm waiting for my fiancée," You force out tightly.

He looks down. “I don’t see a ring on that finger. Maybe if I got a closer look?"

He moves to grab your hand and you yank it away, but he's faster.

"Excuse me?" It's Suo's voice - but it's different.The teasing is still there, but his voice is lower. Colder. A dark growl. "Would you kindly unhand my wife?”

"S-suo," Falls out of your mouth, and you hate how pitiful you sound.

The man turns his head, but you can’t see beyond his large stature. “That’s your man? Why not hang with a real man instead of pretty boy over there?”

Your throat constricts.

And then the man crumples, holding his arm and screaming. Spikes of ice, swirling with snowflakes, split his arm.

"Were my instructions unclear? I told you to get your hands off of my wife."

The man turns to Suo, panting. He starts to run at him, but Suo simply sidesteps the man, flipping him onto his back.

“Are you hurt?" He walks over to you and you shrink away on instinct. His lips quirk in their thin line.

"N-no."

He holds out a hand. "Can I see?"

Reluctantly, you extend your arm. He takes it gingerly, eye darkening at the blooming bruise.

"I'm alright," You find yourself saying, more for him than for you.

He sighs. "If I had been even a moment later, you might not have been."

"But you came."

Suo doesn't respond, eye swirling with unidentifiable emotions. He releases his gentle hold on your arm. "Let's go home."

When he takes your hand again, you don't argue.

vii.

You let out a sharp exhale of pain and bring your finger to your mouth, the salty taste blooming on your tongue.

You feel stupid standing in the Suo estate kitchen in an inappropriately fancy kimono over a boiling pot of water.

You'd never cooked alone before, so you didn't exactly know why you'd thought you should try it now. You could hear the low hiss of voices in your head, and you squeezed your eyes shut before opening them determined.

You would pay him back for his kindness.

You went to retrieve another bandage, returning to continue your clunky cuts.

The result was ... very ugly.

You were not going to serve this to Suo. Knowing him, he'd probably tease you for it. The voices were getting louder.

You weren't fit to be a wife -

"Hmm? And what might you be doing?"

You jerk. "Suo! I - " Your eyes dart around. You'd lost track of time, and now he was already home before you could disregard the evidence. The familiar heat warmed your cheeks.

"Could it be?" He moves smoothly into the kitchen, eye closed and smile curling. "My darling wife has made something for me?"

"No!" You squeak, heat crawling up to your ears. "Y-your mistaken! I was just tasting something - "

"Oh? Well, I'd like a taste, too. As you can imagine, I'm properly famished after a hard day's work."

You open your mouth to refute it but can't.

"...Go sit." You grumble.

"Hmm?" He leans forward slightly, and your chest pounds.

"Go sit!" You snap.

You concentrate on plating his food and setting it in front of him, before moving back. Your blush-darkened fingers hold on to the tray for dear life.

He raises the spoon to his mouth in a delicate, measured moment, chewing slowly. You want to scream.

"Delicious!" He says, grinning, taking another bite. "You did this by yourself?"

You don't meet his eyes. "Yeah. Yurie is busy enough," I don't want to be a burden, you don’t say.

"It's kind of funny looking - " He says, smile unchanging.

"Why you - "

"But it's really good!"

"It's no big deal," You say, avoiding his eyes.

"Oh, yeah?" He says, eyes falling to your hands. You immediately try to hide them in the sleeves of your kimono. "I'm grateful to have such a loving wife."

"Just eat." You grumble.

viii.

The night of the bequest arrives faster than you'd anticipated.

You arrive stiff, but begin to loosen up when the plum wine begins to flow and your fiancée's fellow soldiers - Haruka and Akihiko - begin to regale you with tales of your husbands great skill and fortitude.

You commiserate with Haruka about how teasing he is, and Akihiko how mysterious.

"He is rather mysterious," You agree, laughing along.

During the night you feel a hand sneak it's way waist and you look up at Suo with a quirked eyebrow.

He doesn't smell drunk and he doesn't move his hand.

You blush all the way down to your fingertips.

"Alright," Suo says eventually. "It's time for me to take my darling wife home.

He leaves relatively quickly, tugging you by the wrist.

"Suo?" Your brows furrow. "Is something wrong? Suo?"

He doesn't answer. This increases your worry. What had you done wrong?

"... Suo?" He turns around then, stepping forward and caging you against the wall.

"You seem to be enjoying discussing how "teasing" and "mysterious" I am with my colleagues."

There's a different quality in his voice that you can’t read again, different still from that day in the market.

He is smiling, though.

"B-but you are!" You squawk in your defense, eyes darting around and quickly realizing you have nowhere to run.

"I'd tell you if you only asked,"

"Would you really?" You look up at him with something akin to hope.

His eyes dart down, and he looks as he's contemplating something. The tip of his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. "Yes."

"So - so - " You stutter when he gets closer. "Are you ... mad with me?"

His eyes dart to meet yours once more. "Mad with you?"

"It's just that we left so suddenly, and I didn't mean to embarrass you, if I did - "

Suo's lips claim yours and you freeze. They move hotly against yours and you struggle to keep up with the slow dance he's leading. All you can think to do is hold your shaking grasp on his kimono under his army uniform as he grasps you tightly by the waist and seems to try to eat you alive.

He runs his tongue along the seam of your lips, but you don't respond.

"Open," He murmurs, without breaking the kiss.

"Huh? Why - " But he's upon you again, tongue exploring your mouth as you quake against him. He finally pulls away connected by a translucent string, scanning your face - the tears gathering in your lashes, your scrunched nose, your kiss bruised lips.

He kisses down to your jaw, then nips.

"D-did you just bite me?" You stammer.

"Oh, love," He coos. "That was hardly a bite."

He presses more kisses to your neck and then bites, hard, and it draws a sound out of the back of your throat that mortifies you.

You want to melt into the wall. Your hand flies up to try to cover your mouth, but he catches you by the wrist - pinning it against the bricks.

"Uh uh. I want to hear," He says, biting down again.

You do, indeed, reward him with another sound that chokes into a gasp when his cooling tongue soothes over the bite.

He moves away, eyes falling to your lips once more.

"Oops!" Suo pulls away, a smug quality to his smile. "Got a bit carried away there, didn't I!"

You stare at him, wide eyed, heaving and disheveled. Your cheeks are on fire.

"Sorry, love," He says innocently, rubbing circles on your hip with his thumb, as if he hadn’t just kissed you senseless.

You can't meet his eyes. You don’t know what to say first, but what comes out: "D-did you have to bite me?"

"Oh?" He asks, eye glinting. "Absolutely."

ix.

You can't wipe this kiss ... er, well, kisses - from your mind.

It's all you can think about.

You feel like a silly school girl, unable to stop your mind from wondering to his darkened eye swimming with ... desire, you suppose.

You didn't know what you'd done to deserve such a look!

You weren't even a very good wife or anything!

Hell, until he'd kissed you like that - you'd never really known he'd ... you'd just thought you where to be married on paper and nothing more.

Ug, you could still feel his lips moving on yours.

You really hated this!

When you almost chopped your hand off again helping Yurie prepare a meal, you decided that you where going to confront him about this.

You stood in front of the door to his office.

You where going to confront him!

But ... how exactly?

What would you say?

You hear a familiar chuckle on the other side of the screen. "Are you going to just keep standing there, or are you going to come in?"

You, very ungracefully, slam the door open.

Suo smiles at you.

You stomp across the mat, sitting before him.

Your hands fidget in your lap, already starting to darken with a blush. "About - about the other day."

"You mean when I kissed you outside of the banquet?"

Despite your embarrassment, your happy he doesn't beat around the bush. "Yes. Um, why."

"Why?" He echoes, brow quirked.

"Yes, why."

He tilts his head. "Because I wanted to?" He says. "Can't I kiss my future bride?"

You slam your hand down. "Not like that you can't!"

"Did you like it?"

"I - " You stammer, eyes darting around.

"It's alright if you did," He coaxes.

"It ..." You shift. "Surprised me."

"Really? But I've been flirting with you this whole time!"

You squint at him. "You've been messing with me! You say weird things all the time! I never know when you’re joking or not!”

"I've been honest with you," He says. "Very honest. In fact, so honest I deserve another kiss."

"You can't just decide -! "

"Please?" He says. "If not now, then when? If I have to wait too long again, it's going to build up like last time - and I don't think you want that."

"Look!" You hold a hand out to stop him from approaching you. "You can do it again! Just ... less. It was a bit ... too much ..."

"Hmm," He puts a finger to his chin as if thinking. "You where shaking,"

"Shut up!" You snap.

You move forward on your knees to him with the intent of shutting him up but you falter half way when you catch him looking at you in that way again. It's intense, weighty.

"I - " You swallow. You gulp, looking down at his lips - you can feel his breath.

You will yourself to move.

"Young master, breakfast!" Yurie's voice chimes.

You fall forward into his lap and start to skitter backwards, but he catches your wrist.

"Oh! Is the mistress in there with you? Breakfast!"

"Coming!" Suo sings back, pressing his lips to the inside of your wrist as he looks up at you.

You quiver, looking down at him with wide eyes.

"Let's go eat," He says lowly. "Shall we?”

x.

One minute your shopping with Yurie, and the next minute you are gone.

When you awaken, a familiar stands over you face stands over you. "Mother?"

The woman looks down at you. "Mother, what are you - "

"There was no there way."

"That man - he wouldn't let us see you, even when we called the marriage off."

"What?" You ask, mind racing. "Why would you do that?"

She frowns. "I do not need to explain myself to you."

"But I - "

"What? Love him?" She laughs. "Do you think he loves you?"

You pause. Could he? You remember the kimonos, and how he held your hand so gingerly, and the the kisses he'd spared after the first one that always turned searing. Yurie had laughed at the two of you, murmuring something about young love to herself.

"He does." You say, steadfast.

Something in your eyes glints and your Mother turns away.

"Well. It matters very little."

Suddenly you remember that look in his eye that day in the marketplace - the icy chill in his voice. "Mother," You say, and she looks at you. "For your safety, I would request you return me to Suo. I ... I don’t want him to hurt you.”

She laughs again. "Bluffing won't save you dear." Her laughing cuts off, eyes dull and exhausted. "Not even I can do that."

xii.

The room they keep you in is dark, undisturbed - until the man in a suit and fedora comes.

He hurts you, plain and simple.

Your parents had done many things, but they had never laid a hand on you. The pain is unfamiliar and hard to bear.

And after what could have been days or hours, something strange happens.

The man moves to hurt you again and it bounces off. He tries again and his attack slides off of the iridescent bubble once more.

He seems satisfied with this, sporting a toothy smile that could make milk curdle.

He goes for another blow, then seizes. Icicles sprout from his chest.

The temperature of the very room drops, freezing the tears on your cheeks.

Your savior comes into view, eye hard and merciless. Cold air streams from his lips.

"Suo ... " You rasp, lips quirking. You are too weak to smile.

He gathers you into his arms immediately, holding you against him. "I'm sorry I took so long to find you, my love. But I'm here now."

"Everything ... " Pain flickers across your face. "...Hurts..."

He's clutching you so tightly. “I know, my heart, I know."

"Hayato - " You say, and you feel him freeze against you. "Hayato, I - "

"Shut up." He grits out.

"But, I - "

"Won't die here. Keep your eyes open for me."

"But I'm so tired," You say. "And..."

"You won't leave me," He snaps. "I won't let you."

"I won't," You agree, eyes lowering. "Hayato, I - "

"Shut up!"

"I ... love you..."

xiii.

Hayato is strange after that.

Both close and extremely far.

He stays silently glued to your side, when after he's sure your family is no longer powerful enough to take you from him, again, he still insists on coming with you to every shopping trip and excursion he can - asking you to postpone if otherwise.

He doesn't say those three words back.

You try not to be hurt about it, and continue on as normal as possible. Well, as normal as your injuries allow.

In time, your Mother's words begin to eat away at you.

Maybe you were mistaken after all.

You approach Hayato in the courtyard, taking a deep breath, saying his name.

He opens his eye to look up at you.

You take another deep breath, wring your hands. "I understand ... if after what my family has done - the grave insult they have cause ... if you do not wish to marry me anymore."

He looks truly taken aback, which would be funny in any other circumstance.

The brunt of his focus is heavy. "And if you left here? What would you do, then?"

"I ... don't know," You admit, looking away. "But ... I wouldn't be a burden to you any longer."

"That's what you think I see you as?" He murmurs , more to himself than you.

You shift.

"Do you know," He asks, in a strangely hoarse voice. "Do you know how I felt when I saw you lying there? Beaten? Broken?"

You stay silent.

"It took everything in my being not to kill them all."

You glance to him and he's looking at you.

There is no remorse or regret in his eye.

"You don't deserve the love of any more monsters."

Your fists curl at your side. "You - you take that back."

His eye widens slightly at your tone.

“You - you saved me."

He starts to open his mouth, but you’re faster.

"I was afraid I was going to die there, all alone, in the dark, but you came for me!" You say, unshed tears in your eyes as you yell. "And you! You don't get to talk about the man I love like that!"

Hayato stays silent.

"And you - you love me too!" You accuse. "And you don't have to say it back, right now. Or at all, if you don't feel that way - ”

"I love you." He says, breathlessly.

"Oh," You says dumbly. "Oh."

His hands find your waist, pulling you into his lap. "Why do you sound so surprised? Didn't you say you knew?"

"Well, I wasn't - wasn't completely sure." You grumble. "And - and it's different hearing you - hearing you actually say it."

"I can say it again," He mummers, rubbing circles on your hip. "Until it becomes as natural as breathing."

You cover your face with your hands, wondering if your poor heart can take such a thing.

[darcytaylor]

Are people mad that Luke Newton has a girlfriend? Or is it something more? A deep dive. Part One.

I want to start out by saying, I have been following the Bridgerton train since the season one release on Christmas day. It was a show that I knew nothing about and I became enamoured.

I have followed along with the show and the actors since the release. I find looking at human behaviour fascinating, as I work in a very customer service based industry. It is so interesting to me to see how the actors have conducted themselves, especially Luke Newton.

This post will be about why I think people are truly upset by his behaviour.

(some of which I agree with and some I don't)

Luke Newton has been quite the monogamous dater. He dated his fellow co-star from The Lodge, Sophie Simnett. They were both very young at the time, it seemed like a sweet relationship, but young love normally never lasts.

Then he got into a relationship with Jade Davies. She is very active in the Theatre world and it seemed like this was a very good pairing. I think they complimented each other well. You could tell they loved each other. Ultimately they broke up at the beginning of 2023, because they 'grew apart', or so the tabloids have stated.

I do know that Jade did receive some hate (which is fairly common in the industry that Luke is in). I personally don't think that it was as bad as people made it out to be. A lot of people loved seeing Luke in love and proud of his girlfriend. They supported them as a couple. They supported it because there really wasn't anything to not support.

After the breakup is where Luke Newton went off the rails (in my opinion). He decided to become the typical fuck boy and didn't keep it secret.

This is where he made his first mistake - he made his dating life public and it definitely looked questionable. (and yes he made it public by following certain people and posting about all of his vacations). He had a 'type' going into this time in his life (young dancers). But ultimately fans were forgiving because he just got out of a long term relationship. He was hurting and it's okay to spiral a little at a time like that. Fans supported him because they wanted him to have a 'hot girl summer'.

At some point he meets his confirmed/unconfirmed girlfriend Antonia. She seems to get a long with his close friends and people took notice of them spending time together. But I think fans thought he was still spiralling, so he wouldn't actually get into a relationship, he was only have fun.

Then the New Years kiss video was released. Fans did not like this. But ultimately I don't think that was what caused the biggest issue, I think his second mistake was befriending her on Instagram. This is what sealed them as an unconfirmed relationship. Had they decided to not make this decision, I think people could/would have left them/her be. It could have been summed up with 'it was just a New Years' kiss.

I think that Luke had every intention to make this relationship public. I think that, that was his ultimate goal that day. But because of the press tour coming up, he was told not to. I also think that made Luke spiral even more, he was upset that he couldn't show off his girlfriend (and when you like or love someone you do want to do that) and decided to take some of his issues out on his career and fans (by liking everyone of her photos, letting her post photos with his clothing, letting her post photos with his arms and legs).

His third mistake was mentioning that he was the most like his character on Bridgerton (he has said this multiple times) and his cast-mates also say the same thing. Hear me out on this one -

It can be easy to separate the art from the artist. That is simple enough for people to do (I have seen it happen on many occasions). But there were multiple times that he would say he is the most like his character (saying this made the task of separating difficult) - and lets be real Colin was made for the female gaze. He is charming, attractive, loving and isn't superficial. He fell in love with the 'outcast', the one that isn't the 'typical' beauty. Fans held onto this, because Colin as a character made them feel seen. They couldn't separate Luke from Colin because he kept saying he was like Colin.

When they look at Antonia they don't see the outcast, they don't see the girl that looks like them, they don't see a 'regular' woman. She is the opposite of who Colin would end up with, so that would mean that Luke wouldn't go for her. Antonia looks like the girl who made fun of you in high school, the girl who on the outside looks like she hasn't had a trouble in her life, a girl who's social media is all about vacationing and looks staged, she doesn't seem real.

(I want to note that I have no idea who she is as a person, she could be the nicest person).

So now that Luke has made a bunch of people mad they will go on a deep dive. The first thing that people will look into is the age. And she is quite young. Too young in fact. I am on the side that someone his age shouldn't be dating someone who's brain isn't fully developed (this is a scientific fact), ESPECIALLY since there is also a power dynamic. (It's okay if you do not feel the same way).

Luke's fourth mistake was letting his friends post things about himself on social media. Yes, I know that you can't control everybody in your life. But they are his BEST FRIENDS, Luke could have asked them to not post anything about himself. That would have been the smart more.

Luke's fifth mistake was not having Nicola and the Bridgerton Instagram posts with notifications on. He should have liked every single god damn post that they posted. This would have appeased the fans, the fans love that shit. But instead he would like every single one of Antonia's photos and forget about his job. This decision further bothered fans because he stated that he was moving his social media to be work related. I will be honest - his social media is kinda a mess. His social media presence is definitely a mistake he has made.

He goes on the Bridgerton press tour with Nicola (who is amazing at her job), and all of the imperfections of his life are even more exaggerated, because Nicola is fucking great. Even though Luke and Nicola are a pair when it comes to Bridgerton, people will still compare them.

When looking at this whole situation I think that Luke is continuing to spiral. I think that he can be a bit stubborn and he is doubling down. He has to know the mistakes he has made. He has to realize that he could have dated Antonia and not made it a whole situation/scene. If a celebrity doesn't want you to know something about their personal lives, you won't know.

Final thoughts - I think that Luke didn't think about how some of his actions would/could have been perceived, I think he was ill prepared in some of his actions, I think that he is still learning to be in the spotlight, I think he is somewhat immature, I think that he is being destructive to his career.

I'm convinced Luke wanted to come forward with his relationship months ago. I believe he was told not to and he didn't like that answer. He has shown some spite because of it. There are also other mistakes that I didn't get into, if you want a part 2 let me know? haha

Have I lost some respect for Luke during the past year? Yes.

Do I realize that it must be hard to be in the spotlight? Yes.

Do I think that if Luke continues on this destructive path he will regret it? Yes.

Should we also give him a bit of grace? Yes.

Do I think he is talented? Yes.

His actions sure are questionable though!

If you have gotten this far, congratulations and thank you for reading! It's been a fascinating deep dive!

[midnightorchids]

you have officially got me hooked on firefighter jason. the headcanon about him being so good with kids is what has me in shambles. this big tattooed guy covered in soot who ends up kneeling in front of a little girl he saved, wrapped her in an emergency blanket, and found a big bandage/piece of gauze and wrapped it around her doll’s shoulders so she could be warm, too. distracting her while the rest of the firefighting team works to help her family.

jason carrying the heavy burden of watching children experience trauma like that, losing family members and everything they’ve ever known. coming home from work and letting you wash his hair in the bath, humming softly as he speaks softly about the child he pulled from an apartment fire, or the cat he rescued from a tree. just small stories that humanize each and every case from the day.

i love it because watching him go from something so brutal and violent to something just as physical but helpful and community based is so important. jason todd is jaded toward a LOT of things but he loves his community. he loves the families and the children absolutely those trying their best in such difficult situations. anyway i love him

It was really not necessary to make me ball my eyes out, this is genuinely so so so adorable. Your mind is amazing!! I would like to add on to this as well!!

I always say that Jason is very soft and domestic, despite his past and this would translate into his firefighter job too. Especially when he takes care of children, the elderly or animals.

Jason may be this huge, scary looking dude with a rough past, but he has a heart of gold.

He takes care of the children, cradling their small hands in his large ones, while his coworkers focus on helping the children’s families. Jason always has a smile on his face and uses the most gentle tone when speaking to them.

He knows how hard life can get in Gotham, especially for the kids, so he always tries his best to make their life just a little bit easier, a little bit safer.

I think he would also go to schools and do presentations on fire hazards and the potential dangers. He would also show up for fire drills and would teach in a way that’s both fun and entertaining.

The children absolutely adore him.

He also often takes home stray cats that have found themselves in trees or other bad situations. He feeds them and makes sure they’re warm, before taking them to the vet or a shelter. If he could, he would try to keep them all at home with him.

Jason loves sharing stories with you, the good and the bad. You understand him and make him feel loved, comforted and safe. Some days, he’ll share stories over dinner, other days, the harder days, he’ll have his head gently placed on your lap.

He tears up sometimes, thinking about the things that some children have witnessed or the homes that families have lost due to fires and other disasters. It’s not the same, but it reminds him of his past.

Those nights, he just needs someone to listen and to take care of him. And you do just that.

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

Ooooo I fucking love the Tokyo Revengers characters with a S/O who takes a knife for them. Can I ask the same for Kisaki, Hanma, and Taiju? :D

Yep, here are how these three would probably react to you taking a knife for them!

Kisaki

Freezes, staring at you with an unsure expression. He hasn't had a problem with people taking blows for him before but this feels different, you're different.

Snaps into action soon after though, immediately giving instructions to those around him. Telling some of his men to take care of the guy, another to call an ambulance and telling Hanma stand watch over you in case of another attack.

Isn't really sure what he's doing when he crouches next to you and tries to stop the bleeding from your wound. Reading about it and actually doing it are two very different things.

Spends a lot of time looking at your face for reactions, trying to figure out if he's hurting you or not.

Doesn't say anything in the ambulance but holds your hand the whole ride, occasionally encouragingly squeezing it.

While in the waiting room he sits staring at the clock while tapping his foot impatiently. Get's a bit irritated at the doctors and wants to know what's taking them so long.

Also sends Hanma away to go buy a bunch of flowers and other gifts

Practically runs to your room when he hears you're awake. Stops himself before entering though and walks in calmly. It's clear from the way he talks that he's worried but happy you're awake though.

Tells you to never get involved in a fight again, he can't bear to lose you.

He's about to say something else when Hanma enters with basically a whole giftshop and smothers the two of you into a "group hug"!

Hanma

"What the hell?" He's always seen fights as something fun, so why is this happening? His brain almost can't compute it at first.

Laughs such a loud but chilling laugh that it makes everyone around you both shudder. After he immediately punches the guy twice, making sure he won't get up anytime soon. His signature grin is missing as he hits him though.

"Hey, hey come on sweetheart open your eyes" he nudges you as he asks you to wake up for him.

Trusts himself to save you more then the ambulance so he doesn't hesitate to scoop you up and head towards the hospital as fast as he can.

Yells as loud as he can once he gets there, sounding uncharacteristically vulnerable as he pleads for help.

Doesn't actually stay in the waiting room but instead wanders around the hospital, it's his way to try and keep himself occupied instead of focusing on what could be happening to you.

He's in your room when you wake up despite not being called, he must've sneaken in.

Lightly jokes with you, asking you what took so long and if you had a long enough nap. Before burying you in a tight hug.

Taiju

One minute the guy was stabbing you and the next he was unconscious and bleeding profusely. No one had ever seen Taiju move that fast and swiftly before.

Taiju doesn't care about finishing the guy off, he can always track him down later. Instead he's focused completely on you.

Asks you to look at him, even calling you by his favourite pet name for you, something he hardly ever does in public.

Curses when you stay unconscious and when he sees just how much blood there is. Takes a moment to contemplate calling an ambulance or taking you himself. Eventually settles on taking you, nothing bad will happen to you while you're cradled in his arms, he swears it.

Talks to you the whole way, saying you better live and that you're not allowed to die and leave him.

When he gets there he yells at the hospital staff, demanding help for you. Which he very quickly gets.

Paces around the waiting room, trying to not get too worked up. Also calls his siblings to fill them in on what happened (he just wanted some reassurance from them that it'll be ok).

Nearly breaks the door to your room down when he hears you're awake. He's a bit too eager to see you.

Tells you that he doesn't need you to take knives for him, he can handle himself. "But you, you're too delicate for this. Don't you dare get hurt again, you're too important". He sounds a bit harsh as he says it but the words themselves are very sweet.