#sorry about this colouring being awful....... :|

[hauntingofhouses]

i know I've mentioned my interpretation of mizu's gender a million times on here but i don't think i ever fully elaborated on it.

so on that note i just wanna ramble about that for a bit. basically, it's my reading of the show that mizu is nonbinary, so let me dig into that.

putting the rest under the cut because it ended up being pretty long lol. also here have a cute mizu pic of her being happy and most at ease with herself, symbolised by her letting her hair down. <3 ok let's proceed.

thus, when i refer to mizu as nonbinary, i am interpreting mizu as a woman, but not ONLY a woman. not strictly a woman. she is also a man. she is also neither of these things, she is something in between, while at the same time she is none of these at all. i've said as much many times, but i just don't want people to think that when i say nonbinary, it inherently means a "third androgynous gender" that essentially turns the gender binary into a gender trinary. not only is that going against what the term nonbinary was crafted for (to go against rigid boxes and categorisation of gender identities), but also, not all nonbinary people fall under that category or definition, and that's definitely not the way i interpret mizu.

okay before i go deeper i'd just like to address some important things. first of all, this post is an analysis of canon, and thus everything i am arguing for is about my own interpretation of the show, and not some baseless projected headcanon i am projecting onto the character. please remember there is a difference between an interpretation (subjective; interpretations will differ from viewer to viewer, but ultimately it is firmly rooted in evidence taken from the source material) VS a headcanon (unrelated and often even contrary to what is presented in canon; opinions wildly differ and they cannot be argued for because there is no canonical evidence to back it up).

ALSO please note that nonbinary is an umbrella term. this means that it applies to a vast range of gender identities. other identities that fall under the nonbinary umbrella include agender, bigender, genderfluid, and so on. however, it's my personal preference to use the term nonbinary as it is, simply because i'm not a fan of microlabels (more power to you if you do like them and find they suit you more though!).

also, before anyone fights me on this, let me clarify further that gender means something different to everyone. it's not your biological sex or physical characteristics. but at the same time, gender is not mere presentation. you can be a trans woman and still present masculine—either because you're closeted and forced to, or because you just want to—and either way, that doesn't take away from your identity as a woman. same goes for trans men. if you're a trans man but you wear skirts and don't bind or don't get top surgery, that doesn't make you any less of a man. because gender non-conformity exists, and does not only apply to cis people! some lesbians are nonbinary and prefer using he/him pronouns while dressing masculinely, but that doesn't mean they're a man, or that they're any less of a lesbian. neither does this mean that they're a cis woman.

the thing about queer identities in general is that, like i said, they mean something different to everyone, because how you identify—regardless of your biological attributes and fashion or pronouns—is an extremely personal experience. so a nonbinary person and a gnc cis woman's experiences might have plenty of overlap, but what distinguishes between the two is up to the individual. there's no set requirements to distinguish you as one or the other, but it's up to you to decide what you identify as, based on what you feel. either way, by simply identifying yourself as anything under the LGBTQ+ umbrella, you are already communicating to the world that you are not what a conservative, cisheteronormative society wants you to be.

which is why i find all this queer infighting on labels to be so ridiculous. because we're all fighting the same fight; the common enemy is a societal structure that divides us into set roles and expectations purely based on our biological parts. that's why biological essentialism in the queer community is a fucking disease. because by arguing that women are inherently weak and fragile and soft and gentle and must be protected from evil ugly men, while men are inherently strong and angry and violent and exploitative of women, these people are advocating for the same fucked up system that marginalises and abuses women as well as effeminate and/or gay men.

anyway. i'm going on a tangent. this was meant to be a blue eye samurai post. so yeah back to that— the point i'm trying to make is that there's no singular way to identify as anything, as everyone's views on gender, especially their own, is specific and personal to the individual.

so with that being said, yes you can definitely interpret mizu as a gnc cis woman and that's a totally valid reading of the text. however, interpreting her as nonbinary or transmasc also doesn't take away from her experiences with misogyny and female oppression, because nonbinary and transmasc folks also experience these things.

me, personally, i view her as nonbinary but not necessarily or not always transmasc because i still believe femininity and womanhood is a very inherent part of who mizu is. for example, from what we've seen, she does not like binding. it does not give her gender euphoria, but is instead very uncomfortable for her both physically and mentally, and represents her suppressing her true self. which is why when she "invites the whole" of herself, she stands completely bare in front of the fire, breasts unbound and hair untied. when she is on the ship heading to a new land in the ending scene, she is no longer hiding her neck and the lack of an adam's apple. we can thus infer that mizu does not have body dysmorphia. she is, in fact, comfortable in her body, and relies on it extremely, because her body is a weapon. instead, what mizu hates about herself is her face—her blue eyes. she hates herself for her hybridised racial identity, hates herself for being a racial Other. hates that she has no home in her homeland. thus it is important to note that these are not queer or feminist themes, but postcolonial ones.*

* and as a tiny aside on this subject, i really do wish more of the fandom discussion would talk about this more. it's just such an essential part to reading her character. like someone who's read homi k bhabha's location of culture and has watched this show, PLEASE talk to me so we can ramble all about how the show is all about home and alienation from community. please. okay anyway—

nevertheless, queer and feminist themes (which are not mutually exclusive by the way!) are still prevalent in her story, though they are not the main issue that she is struggling with. but she does struggle with it to some extent, and we see this especially during her marriage with mikio, where we see her struggle in women's domestic spaces.

on the other hand, though, she finds no trouble or discomfort in being a man or being around other men—even naked ones—and does not seem stifled by living as one, does not seem all that bothered or uncomfortable navigating through men's spaces. contrast this to something like disney's mulan (1998), where we do see mulan struggle in navigating through men's spaces, as she feels uncomfortable being around so many men, always feeling like she doesn't belong and that she's inherently different from them. mizu has no such experiences like this, as her very personality and approach to life is what can be categorised as typically "masculine". she is straightforward and blunt. her first meeting with mikio, she tells him straight to his face that he's old while frowning and raising a brow at him. she approaches problems with her muscles and fists (or swords), rather than with her words or mind. compare this with mulan, who, while well-trained by the end of the movie, still uses her sharp wits rather than brute strength. this is a typically "feminine" approach. it's also the approach akemi relies on throughout the show—through her intelligence and persuasive tongue, she navigates the brothel with ease. mizu, in contrast to someone like mulan and akemi, struggles with womanhood and femininity, and feels detached from it.

thus, in my opinion, mizu is not simply a man, nor is she simply a woman. she is both. man and woman. masculine and feminine. she has to accept both, rather than suppress one or the other. her name means water. fluid.

as a side note, while i do believe mizu is nonbinary, i also primarily use she/her pronouns for her, but this is a personal preference. i find it's easier to use in fanfic (singular they is confusing to write stories with, but again, that's just my feelings on it, and this is coming from someone who uses they/they pronouns). i also lean towards she/her because it's what the creators and all the official promotional copywriting of the show uses. and even though i am a "death to the author" enjoyer, i feel that when interpreting things that are left open-ended, it does help to look at the creators' take on things. also because, in general, being nonbinary simply doesn't necessitate the use of they/them pronouns. nonbinary is not just a third gender. it's about breaking the binary, in any which way, and that's exactly what mizu does, constantly.

also, i'd also like to mention that one of show's head of story even referred to her with the term "nonbinary", rather than simply "androgynous" (see pic below). and it's possible this could be a slip up on his part, in which he believes the terms are interchangeable (they're not btw), but regardless i find it a very interesting word choice, and one that supports my argument.

so anyway yeah that's my incredibly long rambling post.

TL;DR nonbinary mizu rights 👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻 congrats if you reached the end of this btw. also ily. unless you're a TERF in which case fuck off. ok i'm done.

[uchimakis]

been seeing so much unnecessary bi mike slander on my dash recently. sometimes selfcare is blocking 15 people and going into the bi mike tag for an hour <3

[katya-goncharov]

every time i think about how terfs have appropriated the colours of the suffragette movement it makes me seethe

[femmefaggot]

ugh nvm nothing before existing matters i hate this I hate being here let me out these shouldn't be my memories

[veritasangel]

Keep me close

ft. Simon Riley pt.2 here

⋆ ˚｡⋆ fem pov ୨୧˚ warnings: nsfw content {mdni} ↣ piv, oral (reader giving), cum eating, fingering, cheating? not really (reader is price's wife but it's agreed upon)

↣ John doesn't mind sharing you with one of his best...probably gonna do a part 2 to this or maybe a series?? (@shkretart is the artist for the simon and price art)

wc: 4.3k

Simon never enjoyed breaks. His body did, sure, but not his mind. Too much time to think about everything, the pain, the bloodshed he’s drowning in. Johnny would go home to see family, Price would head home to his wife and even Gaz had a partner to return to.

They’d all discreetly offered for Simon to join, but he wasn’t one for pity so it always ended with a mumbled, “God no, I’m perfectly fine with my own company, thanks.”

And he thought he was, had convinced himself that was true, but it wasn’t and subconsciously he knew that too. Every night ended with one too many drinks and an almost drunken call to one of the boys, asking one of them to take him in.

It was a few weekends later before he eventually gathered the courage to call Price.

The phone rang once, twice...fuck, maybe he should hang up.

“Hello?”

The voice not being Price's caught him off guard momentarily, of course his wife is the one to pick it up.

“Hello? Can you hear me? Simon?”

“Hi, I- Sorry to bother you Mrs Price...Is John there?" he says a little apprehensively.

“Always so formal.” you joke. “I’ll go get him.”

You make your way through the house, before approaching John in the kitchen and mouthing

'It’s Simon…sounds sad.' you frown a little as you hand the phone to your husband.

“Simon? Is everything alright?” John says as he finishes up what he'd been doing in the kitchen.

“Yeah, jus’ checking in….” he trails off, “You uh, you see the football last night?”

“Yeah, was shit.” John says, ignoring the look you're giving him.

“Yeah….”

You glare at Price to say something more substantial.

He clears his throat, “What did you really wanna talk about?”

A beat of silence.

“...I was maybe wondering if that spare bedroom offer was still available.”

“ ‘Course it is, Si. I’m offended you even have to ask.” Price sighs, shaking his head before adding, “You want a roast tonight?”

Simon lets out a small genuine laugh, “I’ll never say no to your wife’s cooking.”

“Then come over. How long you planning on staying?”

“However, long you’ll have me.” Simon mumbles.

“In that case, may as well pack a suitcase and pick a colour swatch.” Price says, half joking. 

You know he’d honestly let Simon move in if he wanted to, he was basically family and even you adored him, dark humour and stoic mask included.

As expected by Simon, the next few days flew by, as opposed to when he was alone and just trying to get by.

Waking up every morning to a nice breakfast and good company did a lot of good for him. Every now and then he had to remind himself that you were a taken woman.

“Simon!” you beam happily, “I see you’re back from your run.” you smile softly, “I went to the market earlier today so there’s some fresh fruit in the kitchen.”

“Ah, thanks doll, you’re too sweet.” Simon smiles, eyes flittering across the hall before lingering a little too long on your sundress.

God, maybe Soap was right, I do need a partner. Is this how life would be?

He shut his thoughts off, mumbling pleasantries before heading upstairs for a shower.

He also had to control his thoughts when John came up to him one afternoon stating that he had to handle something with family so he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.

Christ, he trusted him enough to leave him alone with his wife, the woman he keeps wrongfully fantasising about. Oh how he felt like an awful person.

But he refrained, kept reminding himself that he was a trained soldier. He wouldn’t give into such desires, let alone betray someone he calls family.

And so the rest of the day continued as normal, as did dinner.

Simon retired to the living room for the rest of the night, watching TV. Some time later you joined him, sitting maybe a little closer than usual but he brushed it off, only for you to then extend your legs onto his lap and he had to inhale a sharp breath to keep his cool.

His heart raced, and his hand twitched, eyes darting to the smooth skin of your legs resting way too close to his groin. “You alright there, love?” he asks.

“Mhm.” you nod and he can't tell if it's his imagination that he can see his own desire reflected in your eyes.

He couldn't hide the need in his own eyes either. They flickered with want, need. Simon shifted ever so slightly, trying to get comfortable. It was a lost cause, though, his cock had already hardened, the fabric of his pants hardly concealing it.

With great effort, he managed to restrain himself. He had to, after all, he was Price's friend and you were his wife.

“Have you checked your phone this evening?” you ask tenderly as you tilt your head at him.

“No...Why?” He asks curiously, hands already reaching for his phone, seeing a few messages from Price.

2 messages - Cap'n Figured you might need to let loose a little, maybe have someone take care of you for once....if you catch my drift. Oh but for the love of everything, please wrap it!! I don't think I'd ever live down the embarrassment if you got my missus pregnant before I did.

His heart skipped a beat as he read the message.

Smirking, he turned to look at you with a newfound light in his eyes. 'So that's how it was, huh?' Simon thought, his mind whirling. He knew Price well enough to know he'd planned this with you and he couldn't deny that he felt a surge of lust as a result.

"Well, well," Simon uttered. "Looks like Price gave us his blessing." his hand finally reaching out and brushing against your leg, before resting it there, chuckling at the goosebumps that ghosted your skin.

“So you guys planned this, huh? Don’t know whether to feel awkward or take the opportunity with no regrets?” He jokes, chuckling a little.

“It’s not a pity thing, jus’ wanna take care of you too.” you say softly as your eyes meet his.

“Surprised the fucker didn’t want to watch.”

“Oh he did.” you laugh softly, “He just didn’t know how into it you’d be.”

“...Maybe we’ll have to see for next time.” he winks.

"Next time? Getting a bit carried away, aren't we?" you quip.

Simon's palm grazed over your knee, tracing upwards as he leaned closer to you, the air between the two of you thickening with desire. "How do you plan on taking care of me, hmm?" He questioned, his voice low and seductive.

You grinned as you looked at him, your hand sliding up his thigh, stopping just before his crotch. "Well, I have an idea or two," you tilted your head at him, "but I need to know if you're game."

Your finger trailed along the outline of his erection, feeling the throbbing heat underneath the fabric, causing Simon to let out a sharp breath.

After getting the green light from Price, it was as though his brain had shut down, just allowing him to indulge in the moment. "I'm game," he answered, his voice husky, dripping with want. His hand moved on top of yours, guiding it towards his bulge.

"Good," you whispered, moving in as your lips hovered above his. He leaned in and you moved back slightly, just enough so that your lips wouldn't touch.

He chuckles darkly before grabbing your chin and forcing you to keep your gaze on him, "I thought you said you wanted to take care of me, hun." he says, "Don't be a tease." he warns

Simon's resolve wavered for a moment as your lips hung tantalisingly close to his. The game was almost too much to bear. But he wanted you badly, and that want became a demand. "Take care of me," he repeated, his voice gentler this time, pleading almost.

His heart raced as he felt your soft lips against his. The kiss was gentle and tender. As your tongue sought entry, he opened his mouth to allow it in, his own tongue dancing with yours, yielding to your lead. 

His breath hitched as you nibbled on his lower lip. The sensation went straight to his cock, making him shuffle in his seat. A low moan escaped from his lips as he deepened the kiss, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you closer.

The feeling of your palm against his erection through his clothing was almost too much to bear. Simon's grip on you tightened, and he groaned into the kiss. He wanted you, his cock throbbed desperately with need.

It wasn't long before Simon found himself getting carried away. His hand gripped your hip, tugging you closer, grinding his hard-on against your hand, eager for anything that could bring him closer to release.

Simon's body responded to every touch, a soft hiss escaping his throat as your tongue trailed along his jaw. His grip on you turned possessive as you moved down to kiss his neck. He gasped, and his cock twitched, desperate for your attention.

Simon's mind was a blur of lust, and all he could think of was you, your touch. He needed more, and he knew he'd crave you even more once this night was over. Price might just have to share you more often.

His head fell back, giving you full access to his now sensitive flesh, begging for more. His cock was aching so badly and he could feel the precum coating it. He felt as though he was losing control and he wanted nothing more than to feel you enveloping him.

You pull back for a moment as you tug the waistband of his sweatpants down.

His eyes flickered open, catching sight of your intent before he closed them again, basking in the feeling. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt the waistband of his sweatpants being tugged down. His cock sprang free, hard and eager, pre-cum glistening at the tip. It was thicker than John’s and the poor tip just so looked so worked up.

His breath hitched as he felt your warm, soft hand envelop his shaft. His eyes snapped open, meeting yours for a brief moment before closing once more. "God, thank you…” he murmured, his voice thick with arousal.

“I’m not God.”

A soft chuckle escaped from Simon's lips. "Fuck off." He replied, his face flushed. As you continued to stroke him, he leaned back and closed his eyes, fully submitting to your touch.

You smirk as you lean down so you're eye level with his cock, your hand still running up his shaft, brushing the pre over the tip as you lightly blew on it.

A soft moan escaped Simon's lips as you blew on his engorged tip, sending chills coursing through him. His breath hitched, his grip on his chair tightening as his knuckles turned white. "Fuck," he cursed, his head falling back once more.

He wanted more. He wanted to know what it was like to be yours, if only for a moment.

"Please...fuck, please." Simon pleads.

Your attentions had Simon close to begging, and he was hardly the kind of man to do so. Yet, here he was, desperate for your touch, needing you to take him over the edge. His hips bucked subtly, silently asking for more, demanding that you give him what he craved.

His mind raced, thinking about all the ways you could pleasure him. He wanted it all, and he needed it now. Simon liked to believe he was always in control, but right now he wasn’t so sure.

You laugh a little before kissing along his shaft, relishing in the sight of a prominent vein twitching on the underside of his cock.

Simon shivered under your touch, feeling the heat of your lips against his sensitive skin. He bit his lip, an almost inaudible whimper escaping his throat.

This was different, unlike anything he had ever experienced. He felt vulnerable to you, but he didn’t quite mind.

He had to bite his hand to stop him from shooting his cum all over your face when you'd barely even touched him. Fuck it was embarrassing, a grown man acting like a virgin over a few gentle kisses to his cock.

“Please, just– Just let me have you-”

His mind painted vivid pictures of the two of you entangled and sweaty. He wanted to give you the same pleasure you gave him. “Need to fuck you, I can’t fucking last right now.” he babbled.

Simon tried to keep his composure, but the fire inside him raged, threatening to consume him. "I need to be inside you," he panted, his body quivering. "Pleasepleaseplease... I can't- fuck, last like this."

He wasn't a man to beg, especially not for something like this, but he was helpless. Your touch had left him feeling desperate.

You looked at him as you licked along his shaft before finally taking him into your mouth. Simon's eyes widened as you took him into your mouth. His entire world focused on the incredible sensation. His entire body tensed up as your mouth worked him over.

"Fuck..." he moaned, a sheen of sweat across his face, cheeks flushed. His hips bucking slightly, yearning for more. It was almost hard to forget the man was a hardened soldier.

Each bob of your head brought him closer to his release. His moans grew louder, his movements becoming more shaky. He felt needy, desperate, even.

“Can’t cum before I’ve fucked you...” he groans. "...Need to feel you around me," Simon stammered, his voice strained. The need to feel your warmth envelop him was an intense desire. He needed to be completely consumed by you.

Yet, as you continued to focus on his cock, it seemed he was fighting a losing battle. Every trail of your tongue, your lips, your breath, brought him closer to the edge. He bit the inside of his cheek in a futile attempt to quieten himself.

His body tensed as he struggled to maintain control, his restraint quickly depleting. His mind raced as he tried to steady himself and appreciate the moment as best he could.

Simon was fully aware of what was happening, but it was like his body was betraying him, surrendering to the pleasure your mouth provided. His grip on the sofa tightened once again and a bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

The room seemed to fade away, all that existed was the direct connection between his aching cock and your skilled mouth. He was spiralling towards an inevitable conclusion.

Simon's eyes clenched tight, his body tensing as he felt the familiar build-up within him. "God-" he groaned, the sound strained and desperate. He knew he was nearing his limit, the end of his restraint.

A wave of pleasure hit him that he was powerless to resist. With a loud grunt, he let go, his cock twitching as he came, ropes of cum shooting into your waiting mouth.

Pulling away, you smiled as you looked up at him. A shudder ran through Simon's body as he came, groaning in pleasure as his hand intertwined with your free one. He stared down at you, his chest rising and falling heavily as he tried to catch his breath. He smiled weakly, a look of gratitude and appreciation in his lidded eyes.

You had given him a pleasure he never imagined possible, and he would cherish this moment.

Simon's eyes widened at the sensation of your hand returning to work on his sensitive cock. The aftershocks of his orgasm still lingered, leaving him feeling raw and needy.

He groaned, hand moving to grip your wrist as if you were the only t thing able to keep him grounded. He mumbled something incoherent, not even sure what he wanted to say with his mind racing.

Your touch was addictive, and he needed more.

“You wanted to fuck me, didn’t you?” you tease

Simon's breath hitched at your question, his eyes locking with yours. "God, yes." He confessed, the intensity in his gaze unmistakable.

A slow grin spread across his lips as his cock began to harden again. He stood up, pulling you to stand with him as his lips crashed against yours.

He was too caught up to fully undress himself or you for that matter. The kiss deepened and intensified as he pressed you up against the wall, the same wall adorned with photos of you and your husband. Your hands tangled in his hair as his free hand reached up your dress, tugging your underwear down until they pooled at your ankles. The urgency with which he did this was testament to how much he needed you.

You hand fumbled with the unit beside the two of you as you kissed. your hand roaming around the draw before reaching a condom and passing it to Simon who held onto it with one hand.

You deepened the kiss, the two of you practically breathing one another in as his fingers slid between your legs, probing your entrance, his touch both urgent and gentle. When he slipped his middle and ring finger inside, the sound was loud enough to have him grinning into the kiss.

He pulled back slightly, "You’re soaked doll," he breathed, his fingers coated in your wetness. He was aching to fill you, to take you.

"Well, I guess you don’t even need prepping," he drawled as his other hand wandered your body lovingly, despite the heat of the moment. He turned you around, your front against the wall as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your earlobe.

"Tell me you want it.” he said, the words a mixture of question and plea.

"I want this," you confirmed, your voice breathy. The vulnerability in your tone only served to heighten Simon's arousal.

He gritted his teeth, his breathing heavy as he pushed himself into you, slow at first, letting you adjust to his girth. Once fully sheathed, he held you close, his hands roaming your back before coming to rest on your hips.

His eyes closed, a low groan escaping him, "You feel amazing," he muttered as he rested his head on the back of your neck, pausing for a moment to gather himself.

Then slowly he began to move, thrusting in and out of you, setting a rhythm that built with each push. The intensity of the moment drove him wild.

The way you fit around him, the way your walls gripped his cock, it was heaven, and he wanted more. Your moans spurred him on and in this moment everything faded away for Simon. All that existed was the two of you, lost in each other.

Simon's breathing grew heavier, his thrusts becoming wilder, each one an attempt to bury himself deeper within you, to become one with you. The ferocity of his movements belied the tenderness with which he held you, as if you were a precious treasure.

“Fuck, feels like you were made for me.” he groans, “Price’ll have to watch I don’t steal you for myself.”

He chuckles as you clench around him, "You like that thought, hm?" he teases, hand taking both of your wrists in his as he held them behind your back, forcing you to rely on your tiptoes to keep you up against the wall.

His words were laced with a mix of possessiveness and adoration.He wanted to show you the affection and love you deserved, wanted to take care of you and you weren't even his. Simultaneously, he needed you to satisfy the fire within him, the passionate beast that roared to life in your presence.

In that heated embrace, Simon forgot who he was, drowning in the sheer pleasure of being with you. His thoughts blurred, and all that remained was the hunger for you.

Between thrusts, Simon teased, "He's a lucky bastard having you, ain't he? In your pretty little dresses, making his breakfast, cleaning his clothes. Such a good girl for him."

It was a mix of jealousy and admiration. He wanted to claim you for himself, to have you wait on him like that. But he was more than happy to indulge in however much or little you or John allowed him.

As his pace increased, each thrust became more fervent than the last. His thoughts were a jumble of desire. In this moment, the lines between fantasy and reality blurred, and Simon clung to this dream, hoping it would last.

He was lost in the rhythm, in the way you fit around him, in the way you responded to his every touch, in every soft sound that escaped you. There was no going back, no escape, as Simon dove headfirst into the abyss of pleasure that was you.

"He's putting a lot of faith in this condom, hell he's trusting me not to fill you up." Simon whispered in your ear, the words laden with desire. He would never actually commit to that fantasy, but he could dream.

If anything, it fuelled the fire, the knowledge that Price was trusting him to be this intimate with you. His thrusts grew more furious, each one driving him closer.

The moment was electric, and Simon found himself living for each sensation. He was chasing the edge, the precipice where pleasure surrendered to ecstasy. His hips moved with abandon, every muscle tensed, as he sought the ultimate release.

"You're mine tonight," he growled, his words filled with intent. He wanted to etch this memory in your mind, one that would leave you longing for more.

He was determined to leave an enduring mark on your soul. It was a need that had taken hold of him, and there was no going back now.

As the intensity of the moment grew, Simon could feel the pressure building within him. His thrusts grew wilder, more desperate, as he sought the release that awaited. He could sense it, feel it, just beyond his grasp.

His movements became erratic, his body trembling underneath the weight of unrelenting pleasure. A sheen of sweat coated his skin.

His grip on you tightened, holding you as he rode the wave of impending release. "Fuck, I'm gonna come," he warned, his voice thick with need.

He was at the brink of release, a long awaited one that wasn’t a result of his own hand for once. The anticipation and hunger, all leading up to this moment. 

The world around you two dissolved. It was just the two of you, caught in a symphony of lust and pleasure. Their hearts raced in unison, the rhythm of your bodies synchronised. There were no inhibitions, no boundaries, only the ever-mounting tide of ecstasy.

His body tensed, every muscle straining as the climax built. One final thrust sent him over the edge, and he released, his cum filling the condom. His free hand worked over your sensitive clit, willing you to follow behind as you cried his name, gushing around his cock.

The release was explosive, the tension that had been building between you both, finally released. He leaned in, resting against you as he lowered your wrists, arms encircling your front as he clung to you. It was a moment neither would forget, one he would think about for a long time.

The aftershocks of his orgasm rippled through him, his body still connected to yours. He held you close, as if he were afraid to let go.

"That was... something else," Simon managed to mumble, the words breaking through the haze of post-orgasmic euphoria that washed over him. A satisfied grin spread across his face, the look in his eyes a mix of contentment and pride.

He had claimed you in a way he never thought he could, and it was exhilarating. Slowly, he began to pull out, but his hands lingered on you, as if drawn to the warmth of your body.

Despite the quick encounter, Simon knew he had found something that he wanted to explore further. For now, however, he was content to simply bask in the afterglow. He exhaled a deep breath as he pulled out from you.

You took a deep breath, the action drawing Simon's gaze. As you turned around, he watched you lean against the wall, your eyes meeting his. For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between the two of you.

Simon's heartbeat slowed, but his chest still rose and fell rapidly. He stared at you, trying to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions swirling within him. This encounter had changed something between you, there was no doubt about it.

"He's a lucky man." he says resting his forehead on yours.

You let out a small laugh as you brush some hair out of Simon's face.

"And I'm lucky to be married to him."

Simon smiles as he reaches down, pulling your panties back up, along with his sweatpants."I'll have to call him in a bit to say my thanks." he quips, "Buttt, he's not gonna be back until late tomorrow and I wanna' experience fully what it'd be like to be yours." He smirks down at you, his lips hovering dangerously above yours, "You know, if you're game."

༄ cod m.list ༄ reblogs are appreciated if you like it.

© veritasangel ↣ 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴

[l0vergirls]

just a little something that's been on my mind for a while now, like it's actually rotting my brain.

cw: stalking, a bit nsfw near the end, just general yandere stuff, not proof-read!!!!! so sorry if its a bit messy !!!!

★ (romantic) yandere!batfam x reader

imagine being the shared darling of the batfam.

it only takes one of them for the rest to fall in love with you, too.

let's say you meet tim during one of the days he actually decides to go to class, and he's thanking the heavens he did.

slowly, he starts to integrate himself into your daily life, and into your friend group. they all love him, of course. who wouldn't love the kind, funny, and handsome tim drake?

during all of this, he'd already told his brothers about you, and because they can't hide anything from bruce, he finds out about you too. unsurprisingly, they come to appreciate you as much as tim has.

and suddenly, you get a particularly handsome new neighbour in the apartment across from you (which you didn't know was even up for rent) and somehow always seems to be in the middle of stripping when you're home. almost as if he can feel your eyes on him. of course, you make sure not to get caught, and avert your eyes as soon as the cloth leaves his waist.

later, you find out his name is jason, and make a good friend out of him. he smokes on his balcony, while you drink coffee on yours.

barely a week after that, you get a new regular at the café you work at. his name's dick grayson. he says it's probably best for you to yell out his last name for his orders too. he's a detective, which explains the late nights he comes into the café. he's always got a stupidly handsome smile on his face, which only adds onto his neverending charm.

and during the occasion that you're walking home alone, you always seem to run into one of the many vigilantes that guard gotham.

you meet both batman and robin during one of your walks home. you're not scared of them, as most people are; you're merely fascinated at the tall figure that towers over you, and his more colourful counterpart that is also taller than you. robin seems to be just a couple years younger than you. and batman... you can't seem to get a read on the man.

you greet them both as calmly as you can, a small smile on your lips. you get nods of acknowledgment from both of them, which you suppose is the most you're getting.

batman doesn't seem to like that you're walking alone, so he sends robin to walk you home. you don't understand why, and you tell them you've walked this route many times already, that they probably have worse things to take care of.

he tells you that you can never be too sure in gotham. with the way he says it, in that gravelly tone, you can't find yourself to disagree.

on your walk, now with robin's company, you feel safer. you also find out this robin is a man of few words, very unlike the last few robins yet much like batman.

the next night, you run into red robin, who has an air of familiarity around him. he's real friendly— in fact, it's almost like talking to a friend. you think you've seen his smile before.

the night after that, you meet nightwing in all of his spandex-clad glory. he's charming, almost flirty.

and for a week, you don't bump into any of the vigilantes, but you do feel watched. you should be frightened, by all means, but you have a feeling deep in your stomach that tells you they won't hurt you. whoever they are.

you see red hood after that week. he's the more intimidating one of the bunch, you reckon. you've nothing to be scared of, knowing he (along with all the others) only goes after the real awful people. you're not guilty of anything, as far as you know.

his voice is almost robotic, as if being run through a voice changer. it doesn't do much to help his image, though you suppose that's the point. he asks what a little thing like you is doing walking around these parts. you say you're just heading home, like all the times you've met one of them.

he lets you on his motorcycle. if you were paying enough attention, maybe you would've felt his heart beating a mile a minute.

your days go on like this for a while. class, work, walk home with one of gotham's protectors. rinse and repeat.

unbeknownst to you, cameras have been planted all around your apartment. in many angles of your bedroom too, save for your bathroom. they've decided to give you privacy in there. no matter how much dick begged.

though they do have clips saved of you walking around in just a towel, or your underwear. god knows what they're doing with those.

but truly, can you blame them? you've invaded the deepest crevices of their minds, your smell lingering on their noses, and the shape of your lips following them in their dreams.

oh, they can vividly see— almost feel your lips on theirs, and they wonder what you look like when your face is scrunched up from pleasure, as their fingers enter you.

but they'll have to wait a little longer. and they'll be damned if they lose you, when you're playing right into their hands.

this got so long !!!! i had to let this all out somewhere <//3 definitely gonna add more but i needed to cut it off at this 😭😭😭😭

[luveline]

we know that the criminal minds writers looooved hurting spencer but i would love to see bau!reader (bombshell!reader if you think it would fit) hurt and spencer losing his mind a little (ofc everything would end up being okay because we love fluff in this house 💗)! thank youuu <333

ty for requesting! ♡ fem, 1k

“Spencer, are you coming in?” 

The boy in question winces, the cellophane wrapped stems in his hand strangled by an anxious grip. Your voice is hoarse, quieter than usual, though that could be attributed to the thick wooden door between you both. He takes the door handle in his hand, readjusts his fingers, can't quite get himself to go in. 

“Spence,” you say, missing your usual cheer. “Please come in.” 

He opens the door slowly. It weighs a hundred pounds, each inch heavier than the last. 

You're propped up on the movable bed with a dinner table over your legs. Someone's brought you contraband, it seems, expensive soup from the fancy restaurant you like just outside of work. Next to it lies your phone, your chapstick, and a prescription bottle. The orange of it is too glaring to look at for long. 

“Nice to see you finally, heart-throb,” you say, sitting back, rolling your shoulders as you smile. “Where've you been?” 

Sapped by terror in the waiting room, mostly. “Sorry,” he says, offering no explanation. You deserve one, but he can't get the words out. “How are you feeling?” 

“Shot at.” 

“Is it bad?” 

Your eyes soften. “No. Wanna see it?” 

He does in an awful way. To alleviate his panic, sure, but to know what it did. To see what his stupidity resulted in. The unforgivable in stark scarring. 

You lift your shirt and shift your soft bralette up a touch to show him the wound and all its grim stitches. “It almost missed me. Guess I'm not as lucky as I think.” 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Not right now. They told me not to wear wire bras for a while, so you win some, you lose some.” You let your shirt fall back into place. He can see the indecision in your eyes. Not one for hiding like he wants to, you address the elephant in the room. “Now you've seen it's not so bad, can you look at me again?” 

“I'm looking at you.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

The thing is, Spencer doesn't, not really. Half the time you act like you're sharing a secret with him but he doesn't have a clue what you're talking about, and the intimacy is lost, and it's his fault. He's never been good or smooth or charismatic, he's never deserved your attention, and it's his fault you're here, hurting, his fault you'd been prone on the ground, his fault Morgan had to hold your side closed, his fault you almost died. 

“Spencer,” you murmur, “you know I don't blame you.” 

Of course he knows that. 

“You should,” he says tightly. He doesn't mean to get angry. 

“Well, I don't. So give me my flowers and sit down.” 

He bites the inside of his cheek. He's mad, but he gives you the flowers without any roughness, and you take them with a similarly thin thank you. 

Your reunion isn't going how either of you wants it to, it seems. 

Spencer sits in the chair next to your bed as you pick between the petals, admiring their colours, their softness. For a moment you're peaceful, but you close your eyes and press your nose gently to a small bud, and you ask, “Why are you acting like this?” Heartbroken. 

He could explain it in halves. You passed out in the back of the ambulance. Your surgery had unexpected complications. Hotch was so angry, and he still wasn't as mad at Spencer as Spencer was at himself. 

Seeing you hurt because of his mistake isn't a feeling he thinks he'll survive a second time.

“I don't get why you like me,” Spencer admits. “Not before, and especially not now. You should be pissed. This,” —he gestures to you quickly— “is my fault.” 

“It's not your fault, Spence.” 

“What would you call it?” 

You put your flowers down and stare at your lap. He's pushed you too far. Nice, he thinks to himself scathingly, to upset you in your sick bed, that's exactly what he should be doing to make it up to. Great going, Spencer. 

“Will you hold my hand?” you ask quietly. 

He hesitates, his heart skipping a beat like a missed step down the stairs. 

“Please? I just… this has been a lot. I'm not telling you to make you feel guilty, I swear, but it's been a lot. And so many times I wished someone was here. I wished you were here.” You turn your head away from him. “I thought you were mad at me. I'm still worried.” 

Spencer stands up. He feels every stretch of muscle as he does it. You raise your eyes to his, holding out your hands; you know him better than anyone else, he thinks. He overcompensates every time. 

“I'm sorry,” he says, crossing his arms behind your shoulders carefully. 

“I told you it's not your fault.” 

“For not being here to hold your hand.” 

Your hand curls in the front of his shirt. 

“M'not mad. Not even slightly. I mean, not at you…” He rubs your back with his thumb. “Why would I be mad at you?” 

“What was I supposed to think?” 

He presses his nose to your temple, eyes squeezed close in regret. “...You're right.” 

This is what he should've done the moment you woke up. Instead, he let his mind focus on detail, what flowers demarcates remorse, or if cellophane wrapping would be an imposition. Anything to forget how your hands shook as the adrenaline wore off. 

They're steady now as they wrap around his sides to rest at the small of his back. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, lips touching to your skin with each syllable, like fractions of kisses. 

“I missed you, handsome. Please– don't do that again.” 

He rubs your back. “I won't,” he promises. “I'll be here as long as you want me to be.” 

“Forever, then.” 

For once, your flirting doesn't make him blush. 

[colourstreakgryffin]

I was wondering if you can do Alastor x daughter! Reader? She’s manifested from his magic and because of that she has some of Alastor’s powers. However, she’s the complete and total opposite of him. She’s kind and sweet like Charlie, but is very shy. She never likes bringing out her true demon form for she is very terrifying. Alastor is very protective of her. Although, what if she sees Alastor get hurt by another overlord or Adam and he turns into her demon form to protect him and everyone is surprised by this and maybe even terrified of her.

OMFG. Yes! Second Alastor request in a rooowww! I love this man uncontrollably and he would be a good daddy. He’s a stag papa with his little fawn for reaaall! I love this idea, lots of loves and so much thanks for giving Hazbin Hotel more attention— or, I guess Alastor!

Father! Alastor- Hell’s Angel

Okay… Alastor wasn’t suspecting to pop a kid out of thin air when he actually wanted to pop a kid out of thin air. His magic is very powerful, no doubt but he birthed a child from solely his own powers and about 100% of his own DNA so his daughter’s features are primarily matching his own but there are some personal key differences Alastor wanted you to have to seperate yourself from him

So, you’re not a carbon copy of your dad, the Radio Demon. More just have the same deer features and red colouring

Alastor also wasn’t suspecting to have born an angel of his own. Sweet, affectionate, cheery, always smiling but smiling in a more welcoming and natural manner than her papa. He doesn’t mind it, you’re his babygirl. He loves you dearly, even after he just shat you out from literally nothing. He’s just surprised!

Well, at least Charlie loves you because you’re like… exactly what she loves and Alastor gets jealous of how well Charlie bonds with his own daughter!

Alastor has never known how to handle his own powers so when you begin manifesting voodoo dolls and portals containing all kinds of demonic beasts, he has to figure out how to get around all of it without hurting you a single bit. He has a whole plan scheduled out for anytime your powers trigger at random

Alastor’s protective, loving, clingy and carries you around a lot. He loves being able to bond with you, he likes hearing your cute deer noises when you’re trying to talk to him. He never lets you leave his sight and whilst he reframes from murder, he may just kill Vox for insulting his little fawn

Alastor now has all the full right to tell awful Dad jokes, since he is a proper Dad now. Rest in peace once again, Angel Dust

Yes. Alastor is the type to spoil his daughter. Spoil rotten, he isn’t going to stop and he isn’t sorry. He loves his little princess and no matter what, he’ll give her what she wants. If anybody dares to take what she wants from her, he’ll send them to double hell then give his babygirl extra hugs and kisses as apologises

Alastor knows, like him, you have your own full demon form and for a harmless sweetheart like yourself(that only uses your powers to help the Hotel staff). Your full form is actually terrifying and you know that, which is why you avoid it. You don’t want to scare anybody, especially not your beloved dad so you always reframe from getting too mad

Just let Papa Alastor handle anything bad. He’ll protect and care for you in the most sweet, cuddly way possible

Alastor is a lunatic, barely sane, monstrous all under a passive-aggressive, well-mannered, dapper 1930s gentleman image but when it comes to you, you’re the most healthy thing he has and he feels genuine love, care and affection for his own offspring. He only views you as his daughter, nothing else or anything exploitative. After all, he acts more like the one serving you than anything. He’ll get you whatever you want, no questions asked

Alastor wants to keep you away from threats so when Adam attacks the Hazbin Hotel. He has no choice but to leave you with Charlie. However, this didn’t last long since you knew your father was struggling when you heard his voice’s radio effect cut out. That was immediately a sign that you, not even a ten-year-old, to jump in and it caused you to rampage against Adam when you used your powers to track down and make it over to Alastor

“PRINCESS! GET AWAY FROM HERE NOW!” Alastor, despite the giant thick cut across his chest, staining his red pinstriped coat, over the white trims of his dark red lapels, yells out as loud as he can to catch his child’s attention, to get her to back off. Struggling to rise up to his feet with his tall fluffy deer-like ears pinned back. A sign of his fear, not because of seeing his babygirl in her full demon form throwing everything she has at the angel, Adam but because you’re in so much danger attacking Adam

Adam isn’t a merciful being, despite being an Angel, and the risk to your life is extremely high. Your demon form is ten times more demonic than any sinner can manifest, due to being produced by raw demonic magic, you form into a pure demonic entity

Screeching out in a menacing echoey way, entirely black and clumpy, phasing in and out like mist, shaped like a mighty Wendigo deer with literally zero resemblance to your cute little form. To you, your father’s in danger and with his cane snapped in half, his powers limited and his radio voice effect gone

You can’t just sit around in Charlie’s arms and let Alastor get killed by this psycho angel!

You have to risk everything to let Alastor escape. However, he isn’t going anywhere without you and is frantically trying to think of a way to get you away from Adam as the said holy entity keeps throwing swings after swings with his holy sharpened guitar to break off all the attacks coming from your Wendigo-style full form, letting out many strings of hateful curses at both you and Alastor. It’s clear with all the shadowy spines and green electricity shocks that you’re desperately trying to fend off the much stronger Angel to try protect your father

But if the Radio Demon himself couldn’t take on Adam for any longer than a few minutes. Of course, you don’t stand a chance, lasting half the time Alastor did. Being beaten when Adam outspeed and charged down a devestating sharp swing on your full form’s form head after you attempt to attack again. Thinking rather fast, you used your magic to cushion the blow to avoid it actually killing you

Being thrown over on the opposite end to where Alastor is and fading back into your normal demon form, a nasty big cut all down your back to the end of your fluffy deer tail, sobbing and clenching fangs

The staff watching nearby were terrified yet impressed. Impressed a child of your age and confidence was able to get that many hits on Adam and manage to guard yourself from a attack from Adam himself, getting away with merely just one cut

The Radio Demon growls frustrated and outraged at being forced to watch his child being thrown around like some doll and get even more hurt, now cornered by Adam, since it’s clear he doesn’t care to attack Alastor anymore. Thinking just as fast and getting up properly with his snapped-into-two cane in one tightening fist

Alastor phases through into the shadows in an almost melting fashion, dragging you down with him in the same shadowy engulfing manner by a single black trail travelling over to where you laid, leaving the bloodthirsty human ancestor as the victor of this fight. Needless to say, Alastor was so pissed. Pissed he lost the fight when he had managed to get many hits on Adam at the first section of the fight and pissed that said Angel dared to put his hands on his angel

At least… you’re safe now. Bleeding, hurt, crying and tired from overworking yourself whilst laid in Alastor’s arms, but you’re alive and okay. In your father’s hold and safe. Away from the Hotel and protected by the Voodoo’s shadowy magic

“You’re okay, darling… you’re okay. Papa’s got you, he’s always got you”

[teaboot]

I love your post about being a security guard. Would you please tell us about some of the cool people you meet at work?

Ooooh I can do that!

One time on foot patrol I got called to talk to a guy who had his pet off-leash, right? And there's a pretty big road nearby, and some restaurants, so I head over to see if I can convince him to leash what I believe to be his dog before it runs into a diner or humps the wrong leg or gets clipped or whatever

But I get there. And I see the guy, he's exactly as described, but there's no dog nearby so I'm kinda confused

But then I see his parrot

And I'm trying to keep a straight face when I get there but I'm in uniform and he sees me and stops and the three of us (me, him, parrot) kind of just stare at each other

And I dont know what to say, I have not been trained for this, and I'm trying to figure out if this is even a problem or not, so I just tell the guy, "I'm gonna be real with you man, this is a new one for me".

And to his credit the dude was actually very kind and polite, introduced me to the bird and all. Little fella made some *frighteningly intelligent* eye contact with me the whole time, of course.

Anyways it turns out the bird was about sixteen years old and smarter than me, so I told them they were both above my pay grade and were good to go as long as they didn't go into any eating establishments, since technically it'd be a contamination risk.

VERY cool afternoon.

Also another time a very cheerful woman claimed she could read auras and told me mine was yellow, and I got to tell her that yellow was my favourite colour, which was cool!

And one night I was on mall duty and I found six teenagers all crammed into one of those 25-cent kiddie rides shaped like a school bus, which was hilarious, but I had to tell 'em "I am so sorry, this is the best thing I've seen all day, but I do need yall outta there, I love you all" (the ride things have weight limits and break down constantly, it's a pain in the ass.)

Aw shit, this other time I found two teen boys pushing each other in a shopping cart- and they were having such a great time, I felt so bad, it's exactly the kind of shit my brothers would do- and I think that one was like "sorry guys, liabilities, do it where I can't see you".

And this one probably shouldn't be funny but there was this guy with a bike, right? Belligerent, abusive towards staff, falling-down drunk, you know? And I was supposed to get him out of the building, but instead when I asked him to make his way out he jumped onto the bike and started riding around me in circles shouting "WHORE! WHORE! WHOOOOOOOORE!"

Same guy, the day that I first met him, he was peeing at a payphone- I asked him for his name and he straightened up, put his shoulders back, and said with all confidence, "My name is Donald Finkley and I take it up the butt!"

His name was not Donald Finkley. The real Donald Finkley was someone he just didn't like very much

[kestisvrse]

good luck charm

part i, part ii

pairing ⋆ hockey player!luke castellan x fem!reader au. fluff.

synopsis ⋆ the rivalry between you and luke had ended, revealing feelings that were buried and how badly he wanted to call you his.

warnings ⋆ i know nothing abt hockey i’m just canadian let me live, swearing, fast paced sorry😭 | wc: 1.3k

♫ - nervous by the neighbourhood

life recently felt like a parallel universe, it felt almost wrong to wake up every morning with a good morning text from luke castellan.

you weren’t exactly close, but you had gotten to the point where you could talk and you didn’t insult him the entire time, and even found yourself cheering for him at his games.

your brother nagged at you for details about what happened that day, as you responded with nothing other than you apologized for being rude to him. he wasn’t buying it all, he had yet to see the fact that you texted luke daily, he only noticed the lack of comments you would make towards him and the fact that you would smile towards luke, something he thought was physically impossible.

you had realized pretty quickly after that day that despite ‘hating’ luke, it was to get rid of the butterflies you felt everytime you saw his curly black hair in a room, or heard his raspy voice with the smirk he always wore. it embarrassed you to think about, to think like this over a boy, but you couldn’t help it.

luckily, it was obvious he likes you, it was obvious from the first day you met him and how often he would be distracted from his tasks by you, but now that you were friends? some people could consider it insufferable how he would act with you, one of your friends called him ‘lovesick’.

which he was, it was such an odd realization, going from hating the boy to secretly liking him while he acted like your boyfriend, constantly texting you, sending you videos of how it reminded him of you or that you two should do a tik tok trend that was obviously made for couples.

he wasn’t embarrassed, he wanted you to know from the start how he felt, but the walls you built hid you from the truth until he broke them down.

despite how it all felt to you, rushed and weird, you found yourself sitting in his car, looking over the ocean as the sun set.

you couldn’t help but overthink everything, after all you said to him, here he sat, admiring your face unable to tear away, like you were a mirage he didn’t want to fade away.

“you’re staring, castellan.” you broke the silence between you two.

“thank you so much, captain obvious.” you could hear the smirk that formed as he said his clever response, earning an eye roll from you, but your own smile creeping up, “you coming to the game tomorrow?”

“yeah, why?” you ask

“great, i want you to wear this.” he reaches into his backseat before returning with his jersey, his eyes full of joy as he offers it to you.

“luke..” you stared at the jersey in your hands, “are you sure? i mean people will probably think i’m your girlfriend.”

“that was the plan, yes.” he says, “just, try it on.” he motions to you, you shrug it over your hoodie looking for his reaction.

to say he was in awe was an understatement, he was stuck in a trance at the sight of you wearing his number, like a deer in headlights he stared at you.

“luke…?” you spoke up, he snapped his head up to make eye contact with you.

“please wear it to the game.” he stuttered, his cheeks flushed red and suddenly his car felt very hot.

“okay, i will.” you whisper.

↦

the freezing air against your face from the rink was so familiar it barely bothered you anymore, you had yet to see your brother and you wondered just what would go through his head at the sight of you, a hoodie on with an extra layer of the team’s colours, sporting luke castellan's number.

you didn’t even think of luke’s reaction, something about really seeing you with it on at the rink, he knew he was done for. when he exited the dressing room he immediately froze at the sight of you, and your smile that you reserved just for him, he was bright red at this point.

“luke!” you blurted, running up to him.

“hey.” he breathed out, unable to take his eyes off you.

“goodluck, you’ll do great.” you praised him, biting back a smile as you stared up at him.

“i have a good luck charm today, i think we can win.” he told you, a cheeky grin appearing, you tilt your head asking what it was, “you.”

before you could answer he was dragged off to the ice, you could feel your own blush rise up at his words. quickly rushing to your seat, your brother spots you and mid smile his jaw drops.

you sent him a sheepish wave, as luke grinned at the sight of him.

and then the game started.

as per usual, luke whipped around the ice. easily dodging and weaving his opponents as if they were made of air. it was mesmerizing to watch the way he moved, he seemed so focused on the task at hand, and yet even while he skated down the rink with the puck at the end of his stick, he still found the opportunity to look at you.

he was bound to get player of the game you thought to yourself, the way he boosted his teammates up, making sure everyone got the chance to make an impressive move even if that was the complete opposite point of the sport.

as the final buzzer rang, you jumped from your seat, the crowd watching erupted into cheers at the teams win as they watched the boys tackle each other into hugs.

you quickly dodged and ran through the stands to get to the entrance to the rink, to congratulate the team, as luke watched you make your way to him, he threw his helmet to the side to grab you and bring you into his arms.

“you won! you fucking won the tournament castellan!” you squealed into his neck.

he stopped spinning you and placed you onto the ground, and the way he looked into your eyes made everyone in the rink disappear. the cold air that previously nipped at you was replaced with a warm cozy feeling as you stared into his eyes.

he went to ask you the question, but his words wouldn’t come out, he felt his team stop and stare at the two of you, as you nodded towards him just from the expression in his eyes.

the expression was him asking if he could kiss you.

you swore you heard fireworks when he lent down to meet your lips, his gloves discarded so he could put his sweaty hands on your face, the feeling of his chapped lips against yours was enough to make you completely ignore how sweaty he was from the game.

he pulled away from your lips, as badly as he wanted to stay there forever.

“been wanting to do that for awhile.” he breathes, awestruck as he stares at you, as if you were the most extraordinary thing in the world.

“i knew it!” your brother's voice called out, distracting you from answering, “i knew you were sneaking out to see him!” your brother's jaw was on the ground.

“uh… sorry?” you muttered

your brother gave luke the iconic ‘you hurt her, i kill you.’ look before wandering into the dressing room.

luke just turns to you, “can i take you on a proper date tonight, good luck charm?” he asks

you snort, but begin to grin, “once you wash all this sweat off, i would love to go on a date with you.” he smirks and goes to kiss you, but you place your palm on his chest to push him back, “shower, castellan.”

despite how fast he flew down the rink, he definitely ran faster to the shower, in desperate need for another kiss from you.

[ellecdc]

HI QUEEN 🎀🩷🎀🩷

I literally just atalkws all your marauders fics for like 2 solid hours. You're writing is healing me at this point.

I was wondering if your requests were open? And if they are can I please request a fic that happens directly after the first war (marauders era) and reader has ptsd and maybe got triggered by the smallest of domestic actions done by one of the boys and comfort ensues for the episode and aftermath guilt?

I'm sorry it's oddly specific, just fighting some demons rn and your awesome writing kinda does the trick heheh

please feel free to ignore this one! love u <33

thanks for your request, love. hope things have been easier on you as of late <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader who is struggling with PTSD [1.5k words]

CW: PTSD, post-war, mention of past character death/grief, panic attack, hurt/comfort

The war had taken its toll on all of you; ghosts of the people you lost and the people you all once were haunted you, reminding you of scars both visible and invisible that coloured every aspect of your life.

There were things that the four of you staunchly refused to talk about; Remus refused to speak about his time in the feral packs, Sirius refused to speak about his brother, James refused to speak about Peter’s betrayal, and you refused to speak about what happened when you went missing.

Perhaps there were healthier ways to manage the grief and pain, perhaps you would all benefit from reconsidering those lines each of you had drawn in the sand.

But you were all alive, you were all together, and you had your whole lives ahead of you, and for now, that was enough. 

It was enough until it wasn’t.

It was enough until Remus was sitting on the floor of your kitchen with you pulled into his chest as Sirius hovered in front of you, holding your hands against his chest as he begged you to breathe, to copy his breaths, to come back to him. 

To come back to him. 

You and James had been fussing in the kitchen making breakfast this morning; Remus being wholly uninterested in mornings but very much interested in the two of you had been sitting at the kitchen table in camaraderie as Sirius shuffled sleepily into the room. 

He took the time to admire Sirius’ sleep rumpled hair and the faint lines over his face and bare torso, clearly having rolled straight out of bed before going in search of his loves. 

You were reaching into a cupboard to retrieve Sirius’ favourite mug when he came up behind you and placed his hand at the nape of your neck at the exact moment that James burned himself at the stove; cursing loudly and dropping the pan which landed on the floor with a bang, closely followed by the sound of breaking glass. 

Remus was up from his seat in record time, aching joints be damned, and at James’ side.

“I’m sorry, I’m okay; sorry.” James gritted out, acquiescing to Remus’ probes and allowing him to examine his hand.

“Awe bubs, you got yourself good.” Remus cooed as he cast a quick aguamenti over the burn.  

“Shit, yeah.” He breathed out. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“What broke?” Remus asked then, looking down at the pan that had landed horribly close to James’ feet and searching for evidence of a broken bowl.

“What do you mean?”

“Did you not drop something?” Remus clarified.

James shook his head with furrowed brows. “Just the pan.”

Their bemusement turned to concern when they heard a choked “baby” coming from Sirius’ lips. 

Remus’ stomach dropped as he turned to see you half keeled over, leaning against the counter with one hand at your abdomen and the other over your mouth as if you were suppressing a scream. 

“Is she hurt!?” James asked quickly, moving swiftly along from his own pain.

“It…I- it was me. I-” Sirius started, sinking to the floor in time with you as your legs seemed wholly unable to hold you up in your current state. 

“She’s panicking.” Remus surmised aloud, quickly tiptoeing over what he realised were shards of Sirius’ mug that you’d been procuring moments before. 

“Dove? Hey, look at me.” Remus offered as he crouched in front of you.

You shook your head quickly and sucked in a stilted breath. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, my love, just look at me.”

You shook your head again and tried to back further into the lower cabinets as if hoping they would simply swallow you whole.

“I’ll clean it up. I’m sorry.”

“Sweetheart,” Sirius pleaded, “we’re not worried about the mess.”

“I’m okay.” You sobbed, sounding anything but.

“I know you are, dove. You’re okay, come now.” Remus said as he finally joined you on the floor, leaning back against the cabinets and pulling you into his lap so that you were fully enveloped in his embrace. “Big breath, babylove, can you do that for me?”

You made a high pitched keening sound and shook your head quickly. “I’m sorry.”

Remus looked over to notice that James had his burnt hand held protectively against his chest while his other kneaded into Sirius’ shoulder as he whispered into his ear.

“Look, dove, Jamie can fix the mug no problem, and Siri’s gonna help you take big breaths, okay?” Remus tired then, stirring both boys into action as James straightened and cast a quick reparo to Sirius’ mug and Sirius shuffled over on his knees to station himself between Remus’ spread legs and in front of you. 

“Can you copy me, baby? Like this?” Sirius begged. “Just like this.”

Sirius pried your hands away from your face and encouraged them to flatten out against his chest where Remus was sure you could feel the hammering of his heart as he took a dramatic breath for your benefit. 

You choked out a few more apologies that both boys gently admonished you for as you tried to copy Sirius’ breaths; they were nowhere near as deep or graceful, but Remus was thankful for your effort nonetheless. 

James reappeared then, his own hand now wrapped with medical tape and smelling strongly of Remus’ healing balms when he held something out for you.

“Angel, can you do me a favour?” He asked extraordinarily softly that it even had Remus feeling more at ease. “Can you hold these for me?”

Remus watched your face as you wretched your eyes open - another ‘deep breath’ stilted by a sob as you looked to him - to see him holding two large spheres of ice that Sirius had for his firewhiskey. 

Sirius kept his hands gently stationed on your arms as you removed them from his chest and accepted the ice from James, still never letting go even as the ice began to melt and drip freezing water down your wrists. 

When your sobs became the occasional hiccups and Remus felt you deflate further into his embrace, he braved a gentle caress of your upper arms in warning of his presence.

“Better?” He murmured lowly into your shoulder, earning him a deep sigh that came out only slightly shaky. 

“I…think so. I’m s-”

“No, no, dove.” He admonished quickly, peppering slow kisses along your shoulder and the column of your neck. “There’s nothing to apologise for.”

“I didn’t mean to cause a scene.” You murmured quietly, and Remus watched as Sirius’ face crumpled.

“You didn’t cause a scene, baby.” He argued quickly. “You were scared; I-”

James made a sympathetic sound in the back of his throat as he wrapped an arm around Sirius and pressed his lips to his long-haired boyfriend’s head.

“Should we not touch you like that, dove? Here?” Remus asked carefully then; dragging a barely-there finger across the nape of your neck and watching goosebumps appear.

“No, that’s fine, I- it wasn’t that I…it was just both and I…I didn’t sleep very well and it was just…”

“Too much?” Sirius offered as James relinquished you of what was left of your ice that had you and Remus damp, drawing circles into your wrists that he still had secured in his grasp.

“Just at once, I’m sorry.”

“Angel…” James chided.

“I am sorry.” You insisted as you looked at James imploringly. “I’ve not been doing a very good job handling my shit lately and now I’ve ruined the morning for everyone.”

“It’s not your shit, baby, and it’s not only yours to handle; we’re supposed to be helping you too, yeah?” Sirius pressed as he craned his neck to meet your eye that you were trying to avoid. 

“And you didn’t ruin anything; you could never ruin anything.” James added. 

You sniffled at that and took another deep breath that hardly shook at all as you leaned further into Remus. “Is your hand okay, Jamie?”

James smiled softly at you before bending down to press a kiss to your forehead. “It’ll be good as new, but I owe Moons some healing balm since I used a whole jar from his stash.”

“I’ll buy it!” Sirius announced quickly, surprising a small laugh from you.

“I’d think not, Pads; I’m the one who used it up!”

“Yes but you’re the one who was hurt, I’m the one who upset our girl.”

“I upset her too.” James countered as they began arguing who had played a bigger hand in this morning’s commotion. 

You and Remus shared a fond yet exasperated look before the two of you stood - on shaky legs after being folded up for so long - and opted to take a warm shower and change into dry clothes.

It may not have been the start to the day any of you would have liked, but you all made it out okay, you were all together, and you had your whole lives ahead of you. 

And for now, that was more than enough.

[kingkatsuki]

Kaji finds you crying in an alley on one of his evening patrols, and it’s then that he realises just how hopeless he is when it comes to women— especially when he thinks they’re pretty.

Pairing: Kaji Ren x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, slight suggestive thoughts from Kaji, mostly comfort.

Word Count: 2k.

Kaji was not good in situations like these, averting his eyes as though he’d caught you doing something nefarious while he stood statuesque in place. He pauses his music to confirm that you’re actually crying, hearing the muted sobs tumble out from between your pretty lips with more clarity as Kaji tries to decide what to do next. He immediately regrets choosing this route for his scheduled Friday patrol, wondering why he hadn’t tried to take the path that didn’t fall under the only open izakaya in the area.

He’d expected to break up a bar fight tonight, or at the very least stop someone getting mugged. Or perhaps guide a drunken worker in the right direction home, like he’d done two weeks ago. But Kaji had not prepared himself for this— especially when he had no idea what to do in this situation. His pink sucker stills between the side of his gum and his teeth as he shoves both hands into his grey hoodie pocket— maybe he should text Kusumi or Enomoto, they’d be far better at this than him.

“Sorry,” You sniffled from your position on the ground, shifting your thighs slightly as you brought your knees up to your chest. Seemingly unbothered you were wearing a skirt as the fabric bunched around the tops of your thighs. And if Kaji was any less of a man he’d be able to get the perfect view of what colour panties you were wearing under it, “I’m not normally like this.”

Kaji frowned, cursing himself for having such depraved thoughts when you were in front of him crying. Despising the way his cock throbbed at the thought as he tried to think of something, anything more than what kind of panties you had on right now.

Why was he like this?

You didn’t seem to care as tears continued to spill down the sides of your face, your head poised towards the ground to try and hide yourself away as people continued walking down the rowdy street. Kaji couldn’t leave you like this— not when there were awful men out at night, and if they found you there’s absolutely no telling what they’d do.

And why the fuck were you alone?

“Can I call someone for you?” He shifted from foot to foot, standing awkwardly in front of you as you immediately looked up at him with pleading eyes, shaking your head no.

“Please, don’t—” Your friends had told you this would happen, and you should’ve listened, “There’s no one I wanna call right now.”

Then what the hell was he supposed to do? Kaji groaned internally, wondering if he’d at least be able to take you somewhere safe until you were ready to go home.

“I’ll be fine, really.” You managed to warble through a fresh hot stream of tears, but Kaji wasn’t so sure.

Shifting his sucker from one cheek to the other as the hard candy clinked against sharp canines, Kaji finally allowed himself to step forward. Thinking about leaning against the wall beside you before deciding against it, trying to appear as harmless as possible as he flopped down to the ground beside you. He spread his thighs in a feeble attempt to quell the throb of his chub beneath tight black skinny jeans as he rested his forearms on top of his knees.

He notices you visibly stiffen beside him, despite his attempts to appear as non-threatening as possible as he heaves a rough sigh. Tugging his silent headphones down around his neck he tries to think about what Hiragi would do in this situation, what he should say. Was it rude to call you dumb for being out in a dangerous part of town all by yourself this late? Probably, but he was right. Kaji decides on another question as he leans back against the cold brick wall.

“Why you cryin’?” It came out harsher than he’d intended, immediately noticing his mistake when you broke into a fresh sob beside him. A light hue of pink dusted against his cheeks at your reaction as he wished he had a tissue or something to offer you, deciding on the only thing left in his pockets as he shuffled to pull out a single strawberry chupa chups. Holding it out to you as he kept his eyes trained forward, lips smoothed into a firm line with his jaw locked.

He heard the pretty sound you made at his offering, a saccharine scoff that seemed to be more of an exhale as you reached out to take the lollipop from his outstretched hand. Your soft fingers grazed his as Kaji felt tiny sparks of electricity bloom upon contact, trying to ignore the heat that they raised against his skin as it shot through his veins like molten lava.

“Thanks,” You murmured, cradling the lollipop between your manicured fingers as you brought the side of your thumb up to your eyes to try and wipe away the pearly tears that clung to thick lashes and blurred your vision.

This is the closest he’s ever sat to a girl, Kaji thinks. The flowery scent of your perfume invades his nostrils and has him feeling lightheaded as he tries to ground himself against the cold brick. Glad he decided to sit down, as he’s certain any longer his legs might have given way.

“It’s stupid.” You murmur, sniffling as you begin to toy with the wrapper of the candy at the top of the stick. Pressing your nail beneath it as you twirled it between your smaller fingers, leaning your hands against bare thighs.

“Ain’t stupid if you’re cryin’ over it.” Kaji continues. Honestly, it probably is stupid— but he’s glad he’s managed to stop you being noisy for a moment at least. Even though the tears still continue to silently trickle down your cheeks, leaving messy lines of ruined make-up in their wake.

“My boyfriend just broke up with me,” You continued, “Or well, I just broke up with him— I don’t even know.”

Kaji groaned internally, he was right— it was stupid. It felt as though he’d started a ridiculous conversation with Umemiya that he couldn’t escape. Remembering the conversation he’d had with his leader a few weeks ago about a heartbreaking scene in one of his favourite K-dramas that had him sobbing for hours after.

“So what you doin’ out here?” He pressed, trying to push his apathy to the side. It was late and dark, and you were sitting out on the street like you had nowhere else to go.

Kaji didn’t have the first clue about love or romance, aside from the songs that would sometimes come up on shuffle or the shitty rom-coms that Sako used to make him watch.

“I dunno.” You shivered, and it was then Kaji noticed that you weren’t even wearing a jacket.

This was so annoying. He groaned internally for getting himself into this situation as he pulled his headphones off from around his neck, moving them to sit on either side of his knee for a moment as he reached out to tug his grey hoodie up and over his head. Tousling his hair with static as he pulled it off before handing it out towards you.

“What?” You turned your head towards him in surprise, “Oh, no— it’s okay. I can’t take that—”

“Just put it on,” Kaji growled, feeling the brisk evening air hit his bare arms as he leaned back against the wall. Giving him a slightly better angle to look at you without turning his head to the side.

“I don’t wanna ruin it,” You continued, shaking your head, “My make-up’s—”

“Just fuckin’ put it on.” He cut you off briskly with a harsh snap, shaking his head. He’d definitely had worse than a bit of spoiled makeup on his clothes, and he was positive that bloodstains were harder to remove than some lipstick or whatever it was Tsubaki-chan used.

That thought had Kaji’s thoughts wondering. He tried to think about what Tsubaki-chan wanted whenever he was sad, and his mind settled on something. Pulling out his phone to check the time as he saw Pothos should still be open for at least another thirty-five minutes— that should be long enough.

“Thank you.” You mumbled, moving to pull his hoodie up and over your head as Kaji took the opportunity to watch you again. You really were pretty, he wondered what could’ve happened to make a guy break up with you— because he was positive that if you were his girlfriend he wouldn’t want to let you go.

But women were more trouble than they’re worth— at least that’s what he’d overheard Seiryu say before. Moving his headphones back around the curve of his neck as Kaji sat beside you in silence, the rowdy bass of music from the nearby izakaya mingled with the chatter of its patrons the only sound with your muted sniffles.

Kaji was thankful you’d calmed down with little effort, but he wondered whether beating your ex-boyfriend to a pulp would’ve been easier.

“You shouldn’t cry over some guy.” He manages to force the words out, trying to provide his own kind of comfort.

“I didn't think he was just some guy, though,” You pouted gently, and it made Kaji’s eyes focus on the glittery gloss of your lips, “I really liked him.”

“Yeah, well clearly you deserve better.” He snapped, nose scrunched in irritation, “You’re too pretty to be cryin’ over some loser in an alleyway. Do you know how fuckin’ dangerous that is?”

Kaji caught himself after he’d said it, noticing his mistake as he willed the ground to swallow him whole. He’d just called you pretty—

He moved his lollipop back to the middle of his mouth, pressing the ball of candy against his tongue as he sucked hard. Trying to tame the frustration, anger and annoyance that burned inside him, reaching boiling point as he felt his heartbeat begin to lull.

“I know,” You mumbled sadly, “I should’ve just gone home, but I wasn’t ready to go just yet.”

“Okay, so don’t go home yet,” Kaji stretched his legs out in front of him to ease his muscles before he shifted to stand, moving a palm to brush off any dirt from his ass before he reached out to offer you the same hand, “You comin’ or what?”

You looked up at him through pretty lashes, and Kaji had to catch himself when your glistening eyes met his. Trying to ignore the incessant throb inside his chest as his heart rattled against its cage desperate to be set free as you reached out to take his hand. The same pulse of electricity ignited inside him as he wrapped his fingers around yours, using his grip to pull you up off the ground as you came to stand in front of him. Dangerously close to his face you gave him a shy, soft smile.

“Where we going?”

The feelings building inside him were only made worse when you moved to stand. From the way you were engulfed in his scent now to his oversized hoodie practically dwarfing your form as he tried to swallow the wetness from his sucker that puddled at the back of his throat.

“What? You got any better offers right now?” He snapped, before biting down on the lollipop inside his mouth. Crushing it beneath his teeth as he hated himself for how harsh he sounded, although you didn’t seem to mind.

“I guess not.” You laughed bitterly, a soft smile appearing on your face as Kaji tried to remember to breathe.

Kaji’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed thickly at the sight of you— You looked real pretty when you were smiling, even with dried makeup and tears caked against your cheeks. It made him want to be the one to make you smile like that again.

“You’ll see.” Kaji began to pull you through alleyways to try and avoid the rowdy crowds spilling out from the sole izakaya in the area on the busy Friday night as he made his way in the direction of Pothos.

Noticing that he was still holding your hand— and you hadn’t pulled away.

[miley1442111]

hi! Can you do a Spencer x fem reader where it's her birthday and he promised her he would be there for the party even if there was a case and he calls her right as the party starts and she's so excited and asks him if he's on his way but he says no and he's sorry but there's an important case and he can't make it and she is absolutely CRUSHED but tells him it's ok and she has to go. She can't really focus or be happy during her party and when it's over she's crying in their bed and then her best friend calls Spencer and yells at him bc reader thinks he will always love his job more than her and that the BAU is his priority and he just feels so awful. He comes home early and apologizes and gives her his gifts he got for her and pampers her and makes her feel so loved.

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birthday blues (part one)- s.reid

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a/n: i absolutely adore this idea! thank you so much for requesting and sorry that we didn't get to the happy ending yet... but we will eventually!

summary: spencer makes a choice that leaves you alone on an important day and causes something in your relationship breaks.

pairing: spencer reid x fem reader

warnings: birthday blues, spencer's an ass, your best friend calls spencer a lot of names and curse words, talks of breaking up, no happy ending :(

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Your phone rang and you knew what it was. There you were surrounded by your friends in your apartment, getting ready for your birthday party, and your stupid boyfriend had to ruin it all. 

You picked up. “Hey Spencer,” you sighed, but attempted to mask it with a smile. 

You could hear the deep inhale on his end and it solidified what you already knew. “You can’t come, right?” You said it for him. 

“I’m so sorry,” he sighed. “It’s just-“

“Another case. I get it Spencer, it’s fine,” you lied. 

The line was quiet for a moment. 

“Happy birthday,” he said sheepishly. “I love you.”

You scoffed. For a profiler, he wasn’t exactly good at noticing things. Like the subtle shake in your voice, or the small hiccups of tears you tried (and failed) to suppress when you hung up the phone without saying you loved him. 

You turned to your best friend Rebecca, a sad look on your face. “He’s not coming.”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s such a fucking asshole. When is he ever going to just show up for you? It’s your birthday for god’s sake. He missed when you got promoted, he missed your gallery opening, he missed your anniversary and he’s missing your birthday? Why are you even with him?” 

You felt the pressure build up in your throat and she pulled you into your bathroom and held you as you sobbed. She sent everyone home, saying you were sick and she called the restaurant and cancelled the reservation. You got out of the dress Spencer had bought you, a beautiful wine colour that complimented you in all the right places. You sat in your bed and cried for hours as Rebecca comforted you with old Disney movies you two watched as kids and your favourite ice cream and some salty popcorn. 

“I just feel like he values his job over me… like I don’t even make top 4 in his list of priorities,” you sighed, your eyes glued to ‘Tangled’ as it played. “Like… look at him! He’s so in love with her!” You pointed at the screen and Rebecca had to surprise a laugh over you being jealous of Flynn Rider and Rapunzel, two fictional characters. “Don’t laugh at me!” You scoffed at her, shoving her in the arm as she started giggling.

“I’m not!” She said through laughter. She alighted made you laugh, and you two were stuck like that for a few minutes, laughing so hard you could hardly breathe. “Ok! Ok! Look, to be serious, you deserve so much better than Spencer. You need someone who cares about you more than his job, someone who can actually be here when you need him.”

You nodded along, the weight of her words heavy on your mind.

-------------------------

When you finally cried yourself to sleep Rebecca took your phone from your bedside table and dialled his number. 

“Hey love, are you alright?-“ he started but she cut him off.

“I’m so glad I’m finally meeting you, even if it’s just over the phone because now I know what a fucking asshole sounds like. You idiotic bitch. Stop calling Y/n and let her be with someone who cares enough to be there for important things in her life. Who cares enough to meet her friends. Who cares about her in the slightest!” She argued over the line. “She spent her entire birthday night in her bed crying over you, when she should’ve been out with her family and friends. You’re such a dick!” She seethed. “So yeah, stop calling this number.”

The line went dead and Spencer felt his heart drop. You’d spent your special night crying over him. 

He was an asshole. 

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He’d booked the first flight out of Denver and told Hotch it was important, he understood and allowed him to go. 

He showed up outside your apartment bright and early, 5am in the morning. Rebecca opened the door and promptly shut it in his face, something he knew he deserved but it still hurt nonetheless. 

“Please can I just talk to her?” He begged from his side of the door. 

“She’s asleep,” she scoffed. “Why are you here?”

“I need to see her,” he pleaded, and Rebecca cracked the door. “Please Rebecca.”

“Give me a good reason,” she said as you walked out of the bedroom.

“Who’s at the door?” you yawned and Rebecca sighed as Spencer started begging you to open the door. 

“Is that you baby? C-can you open the door? I’m so sorry baby I didn’t mean to-”

“Rebecca open the door.”

She sighed but obliged and stepped out as Spencer stepped in. Immediately, you were in his arms as he kissed you softly, apologies rolling off his tongue in between kisses. As much as you enjoyed him being in your arms, it still felt superficial and wrong. His face fell when you pushed him off of you. His eyes followed your figure as you walked to the kitchen and put on the white kettle that sat beside the coffee machine he’d gotten you last year. 

“What are you doing here?” you sniffled, posture and body language guarded as you waited for the water to boil. 

“It’s your birthday,” he shrugged with a sad smile. “I wanted to be with you.”

“You were perfectly happy leaving me alone 11 hours ago. What changed?” 

“I realised I messed up, and some choice words from Rebecca helped me along,” he sighed. How was he supposed to fix this? 

Guilt started to settle in your stomach. Were you really right to be upset right now? Even since you were a child you were told to ‘be grateful’. You were told to ‘be grateful’ when you stopped getting presents when you were 11, when you stopped getting cards when you were 14, when you watched your dad shower his other children from his new marriage with gifts while he didn’t even notice you in his house. You should be grateful that Spencer was even wishing you a happy birthday earlier, how could you be so ungrateful?

“You should be on the case, I’ll order you a taxi back to the airport and I’ll pay you back for the ticket-” you rushed out, reaching for your phone but Spencer’s hand stopped you.

“I want to be here,” he pleaded. “Please don’t make me go away.”

You looked up at him through teary eyes and his hand came up to cup your cheek, wiping the tears away. 

“I’m so sorry I ever thought it was ok to miss your birthday. You are the single most important thing in my life and I’m sorry that I’m not here as much as I’d like to be,” he smiled softly, but you could tell he was serious. You allowed yourself to be lost in the fantasy for a moment, being the most important thing in Spencer’s life. 

But, as always, reality sunk in and it left a sour taste in your mouth, leading to another change in body language which Spencer picked up on immediately. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Spencer, your job always takes priority over us- over me. Which is fine. I know my place. Just please don’t make promises you can’t keep from now on, okay? My parents were dying to meet you, and now I had to cancel the entire dinner. I just… I know you can’t be here all the time, but I do expect you to show up for things like this. I don’t care when you miss anniversaries or my promotions-”

Spencer’s heart dropped. “Y-you got promoted… and you never told me?” 

“You were in New York,” you shrugged. “On a case with no end in sight. Why should I make your life harder?”

“You’d never make my life harder. You make my life worth it, worth all the shit I do. I want you to tell me everything baby, always-”

“Spencer, it’s okay to say that you’re inconvenienced by our relationship,” you said in a watery chuckle. “I understand, and I’d get it if you’re too busy for this.”

Spencer’s breath caught in his throat. Were you really suggesting breaking-up? 

“I think we should talk another time Spencer, I’ll drive you to your apartment,” you sighed, grabbing your keys. Spencer was much too exhausted and in shock to put up a fight, so he followed you to your car. 

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The drive was silent, but full of an awkward silence. Silences with Spencer had never been awkward, always pleasant, or comforting. Never awkward. 

When you dropped him off outside his apartment, he leaned over to kiss you, but you dodged him with a hug. You felt as a small, internal sob racked his body but tried to convince yourself that it was just a hiccup. 

What were you going to do?

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)

[amakumos]

MEET ME IN MONTE CARLO. — jake sim. (teaser)

SYNOPSIS. As a Formula 1 driver, being competitive is just in Ferrari driver Jake Sim's blood. Perhaps Jake cares about winning too much though, because during his conquest for the world title, he loses you. It isn't until 2 years later when you show up at the Monaco Grand Prix with his main rival, Red Bull driver Park Sunghoon, when Jake finds himself determined to not only fight for the championship, but also to fight for you.

GENRE. fluff, angst, exes to enemies (one-sided ish) to lovers

PAIRING. formula 1 driver! jake x fem! reader

WARNINGS. none in the teaser. in the fic, cursing, mentions of car crashes and accidents

ESTIMATED RELEASE DATE. late march, early april

WORD COUNT. 20k ish, teaser is 883 words

AUTHOR'S NOTE. well... this will be my second to last fic for the meantime! i'm excited to drop this one. i've been working on it for quite a while now. here's a formula 1 fic starring our very own jake sim :) i hope you enjoy this little teaser, and the taglist is open so just pop in an ask if you'd like to be tagged when i post this <3

TAGLIST IS OPEN, send in an ask if you’d like to be added!

You were the first person that Jake Sim ever loved. You were there at his first Formula 1 race, you were there at his first race win, and you were there for his first world title win. A series of firsts. 

But, Jake Sim has first breakup on the list as well. 

He always regrets how things ended between you two – it was messy, it was awful, and it left him crying at 3 in the morning in his apartment. 

Jake isn’t certain about many things in his life. But what Jake is 100% certain of, is that the breakup was all his fault.

You had screamed at him, and he knew that he deserved it. You were slowly slipping away from his grasp, and Jake allowed that to happen as he chased another world title so desperately. So desperately to the point that he would end up neglecting you. 

Forgotten dates, forgotten anniversaries, and forgotten birthdays. Text messages would be left unread for days when he was in some other unfamiliar city, as you walked to your lectures with a heavy heart and the stream of his race playing in the back of your phone as you waited for a response. You wore red every time he had a race, for Ferrari, for him, even as your relationship was crumbling. 

“I’m sorry,” he had choked out. “It is difficult.” 

You looked at him with bloodshot eyes and shaking fists. “It is. And you’re chasing your dreams, but… I can’t be with you if it’s like this. The past few months have been like we weren’t even dating in the first place.” 

Jake gulps. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

“I want to try,” you had said with an exasperated sigh, and Jake knows that you’re tired. He’s going at maximum speed, and you’re left trailing behind him. He’s so far ahead, and you know you’ve lost all hope of catching up. But you say those words anyway. “Please tell me you’ll try.” 

Jake doesn’t say a word. Because he knows that he won’t be able to. He wants to say yes, so badly. He wants to hug you, he wants to kiss you, and he wants to commit. Just as he commits to his races, to the championship, to Ferrari. 

But he can’t. Not a single word leaves his lips, and his silence is enough of an answer for you. “Oh,” you say, and Jake doesn’t miss the way your voice quivers, and your lower lip trembles. You’re dressed in red, Ferrari’s colour – his colour. “Okay.” 

“I’m sorry.” he told you. 

“It’s important to you.” you pressed your lips together in a thin line. “I understand.”

You say that, but Jake knows that you don’t. He knows nobody would ever be able to understand choosing to win over choosing someone you love. But Jake is committed to racing. He is committed to win. 

Yet, he’s not committed to you. The one who’s been with him through thick and thin, the one who’d catch red-eye flights to find him in some unfamiliar city to watch him win, the one who’d go through hell and back for him if it meant that he’d be happy. 

He can’t do the same for you, and he hates that. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, and you simply shook your head. You don’t have anything more to say to him, so you quietly pack your things. “I’m sorry.” 

Before you opened the door to leave, you took one last look at Jake. “I hope you figure out whatever’s going on in your life.” You don’t say anything more, and that is the last time Jake Sim ever sees you again. 

He doesn’t know what you’re doing either, because you’d deleted your Instagram account, starting a new one where none of his fans could keep up to date with you. The only way he knows how you’re doing is updates from Heeseung's girlfriend Yoona, who goes on trips with you often. He sees his fans constantly wondering if you’re doing well, and Jake finds it funny how he’s got the same exact question.

He drowns himself further in training, in racing, in wanting to become the best after the split. He wins, he wins, and he wins again – and that feeling of euphoria when he stands on the podium never leaves. It fills him with a joy like no other, and it reminds Jake why he does this. He wants to win. He wants to be the best – no, he is the best. 

Winning means the world to Jake Sim. Racing is in his blood – he does it to hear the crowds scream his name, he does it to lift that trophy on the top step of the podium, and he does it to feel the overwhelming pride in his chest when he crosses that chequered flag first. 

But he’s been so focused on winning, and he’s lost his everything. 

His everything is the girl who went to his first race. His everything is the girl who would tire herself by studying during the day, and catching long flights to the cities where he’d race in to support him. 

And his everything had left him 2 years ago in his apartment in Monte Carlo, Monaco, with teary eyes and a red dress. 

[pitchsidestories]

the three musketeers II Caroline Graham Hansen x Reader

masterlist I word count: 2227

a/n: hi, it's based off this request here, we hope you enjoy it.

It was an important match day for Caroline Graham Hansen’s club but for now you and your lover lay peacefully asleep in your bed. Considering your last relationship with the father of your child ended in disaster being together with her felt like a save haven.

The Norwegian and you were completely opposite characters but because the love you had for each other it worked out great. Light steps signalled that your daughter Maya was in your bedroom now.

“Wake up mamis, today’s game day!”, she yelled excitedly into your and your girlfriend’s ear.

With a glance at your phone clock, you turned around to her, muttering softly: “Love, it’s way too early. You’ve to let Caro sleep.”

“But the sun is already out.”, your child pouted while pointing at the window.

Meanwhile, Caroline started to speak, her voice still heavy with sleep:” Coffee.”

“I’ll make you some.”, you promised her.

Eyes still closed the forward hold you back smiling: ”Thanks, don’t forget Mayas hot chocolate, kjaerste.”

“I’d never.”, you grinned at her.

“Caro, you’re awake!”, Maya noticed happily, wrapping her arms around the tall woman for a hug.

“Yes, I am. Hard to keep sleeping with you jumping on the bed.”, Caroline groaned as she hid her face in the little girl’s hair.

She gave her an apologetic look:” Oh, sorry. I’m just so excited.”

“Excited to walk on the pitch with me later today?”, Caroline asked her, it warmed the Norwegians heart to see the child being so thrilled to go to a game because it reminded her that she was once just like her.

You returned with an amused smile on your lips as the hot beverages were waiting to be ready:” She’s. Maya told everyone in kindergarten about it.”

“Oh, she did?”, Caroline lifted her eyebrow in surprise.

Immediately Mayas cheeks turned red:” Yes.”

“They must all be jealous.”, the Barcelona player winked at her.

“They’re”, with a shy smile your daughter added, Caro, can I wear one of your scrunchies?”

“How about we get you dressed first and after that, you can pick out a scrunchie.”, the Norwegian suggested warmly.

“Okay.”

“Come on.”, with these words Caroline helped the little girl out of bed who was quickly running into the direction of your bathroom.

Only a few minutes later you announced:” She’s ready.”

“Go pick your scrunchie.”, the football player whispered. Watching that wholesome scene between them you could feel your heart melting.

Deeply concentrated Maya touched each hairband individually before lifting the one into the air which she chose to wear:” I like the purple one.”

“Want me to put it in your hair or do you want to wear it on your wrist?”, Caroline wanted to know from the girl.

For a second she thought about it before replying:” Hmm.. I want to wear it like you do.”

“Okay, come here.”, your girlfriend chuckled while she put Maya’s hair into a ponytail.

“It looks adorable.”, you mumbled in awe at the sight of them with their identical hairstyles in front of you.

Maya tilted her head from side to side, her tiny ponytail bobbing with every movement.

Caroline held out her hand to your daughter, who happily grabbed it: “Let’s go and get your hot chocolate. I really need some coffee.“

Your girlfriend flashed you a grin as they walked past you into the kitchen.

You followed with a smile on your lips: “It’s all ready.“

Caroline sat Maya onto her chair. A routine that has become established in the past few months.

You watched as Caroline measured the temperature of the hot chocolate with her finger before handing the colourful plastic cup to your daughter, making sure she would not burn herself while drinking. This small gesture made your heart flutter for a moment.

Caroline then grabbed her own cup of coffee and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek: “Thank you.“

“You’re welcome, mi amor.“, you replied cheerfully.

You girlfriends cheeks turned slightly red. She still had not gotten used to the pet names.

“Caro’s blushing!“, Maya yelled out, followed by a loud giggle.

The football player grimaced: “I’m not.“

“Oh, or did Miss Norway forget her sunscreen before training?“, you teased her.

“Oh, shut up!“, she laughed, shaking her head.

“No.“

“No?!“, she repeated with feigned offense.

You smirked at her: “Make me.“

“I’ll.“

“I’m waiting.“, you laughed as Caroline pulled you towards her. Just as your lips were about to meet, a tiny hand pushed your face away from your girlfriends.

“No, hurry. We don’t want to be late.“, Maya protested.

Caroline rolled her eyes: “Maya.“

You shrugged: “Well, you heard her…“

“Fine.“

With a wink, you leaned over to whisper so only Caroline could hear it: “You know she’ll be very tired after the game today. So I guess we can continue later.“

“We’ll see about that. Either she’s tired or she’s bouncing off the walls after the game.“, she replied, looking over at your daughter.

“Like this morning.“, you added with a laugh.

“Typical.“

“Time to go!“, Maya interrupted you again impatiently.

Caroline sighed before picking her up: “Yes, calm down.“

Arrived at the stadium at the same time as the other players. As Ingrid caught sight of your daughter, she dropped her bag and squatted down with her arms wide open: “Maya, min lille!“

Without hesitation she ran into her arms: “Ingrid, Mapi!“

“There’s our ice princess Caro.“, Mapi laughed.

Caroline shook her head: “Would you please leave my mascot alone.“

“But she’s so cute!“, Ingrid pouted.

“She’s not here for you.“

You smiled to yourself. Your daughter was obviously in good hands here.

Mapi gave you a wink before linking arms with you to walk together towards the stands.

Meanwhile Alexia smirked at the little girl:” Maya, who’s your favourite player?”

“Uhm..”, she started, clearly afraid to give a wrong answer to the captains question.

Seeing her this distressed the blonde reassured her:” It’s okay, you don’t to answer it.”

“Okay, I like you all.”, she replied in an honest tone.

“That’s a great reply, now we need to get in line though, the game is about to start.”, Ingrid intervened smiling.

“Caro?”, Maya pulled at the taller woman’s jacket.

With a warm smile Caroline looked down to her:” Yes?”

“Can I hold your hand?”, the girl asked nervously.

“Of course you can. Ready Maya?”, the Norwegian wanted to know from your daughter, while taking her small hand into hers.

“Ready. Are you?”, Maya nodded.

“Yes, I’m ready too.”, as they walked into the stadium, the Barcelona player pointed into the direction where you and Mapi were sitting in the stands, do you see, mami? She’s over there.”

Following Carolines Finger, the girls face lit up once she spotted you:” Yes!”

“Let’s wave at her so she knows that we’re seeing her.”, the Norwegian suggested before they waved at you together. Only a moment later it was time for Maya to leave the pitch but before she was doing that, your daughter gave the Barcelona player a quick hug.

With the help of one of the staff members, the girl quickly found Mapi and you, looking overjoyed:” Hi, mum.”

“Maya, hi, did you enjoy walking out with Caro?”, you questioned her.

“Mami, that was so cool, so many people and Caro wasn’t nervous at all.”, Maya answered enthusiastically.

Grinning Mapi commented on your daughter’s story:” Oh, she’s a bit nervous, trust me. Caro wants to perform well when her girls are watching.”

“Really?”, the girl glanced at the defender. She paused for a second before continuing:” Are Mami and I her girls?”

“Yes, you two are her girls.”, the Spanish woman confirmed.

Beaming Maya told her:” I like that.” You couldn’t be happier about such a declaration from your daughter, who was so welcoming toward your girlfriend.

After the match Carolina saw how Irene was getting her son to celebrate the glorious win, which made her want to do the same. Smiling she walked to the place you both were standing:” Maya, do you want to come down here.”

“Can I, mami?”, your daughter turned around to expectantly look at you.

“Sure.”, you responded encouragingly.

This was enough for Maya who ran quickly on to the pitch into the open arms of your girlfriend who was chuckling out loud:” Look at you, walking around here like a professional.”

“Mateo still needs a little practice.”, the girl observed laughing.

“He’s still small.”, Caroline reminded her.

“Yeah, tiny.”

“Yes, true.”, the Norwegian agreed.

“Maya, Mateo wants to say hi to you.”, Irene interrupted their talk in a kind voice.

“Mateo, hi.”, Maya greeted the smaller boy politely.

Watching this scene unfold, Ingrid chirmed:” Cuties.”

“Look at them hugging.”, Mateos mum hummed.

“That’s him telling you welcome to the Barca family.”, Mariona explained to your daughter.

Playfully Caroline wrinkled her nose:” This is disgustingly cute.”

Irene looked at her and slightly offended repeated: “Disgustingly?“

“You know Caro, Irene.“, Ingrid laughed.

“I thought things would get better now that she’s a mum too.“, Irene joked.

While you walked towards them to join them on the field, you recognized that the smile had disappeared from your girlfriends face.

You politely smiled at the other players and put a hand on Carolines arm: “She’s trying.“

“Mami?“ Mayas voice called.

You looked down at where she was pulling at the hem of your shirt: “Yes?“

“When can we go home?“ The toddler rubbed at her eyes, a clear sign that she was getting tired.

Before you could answer, Caroline scooped her up into her arms: “We can go now.“

“Okay.“, she mumbled into her chest.

Even though the car ride home was short, Maya barely managed to stay awake. You had watched her eyes close in the rearview mirror. As soon as you stopped the car, Caroline turned towards your daughter: “Tired, Maya?“

“No!“, she murmured, her eyes still closed.

Caroline chuckled: “I can tell.“

She got out of the car before picking up Maya from her seat and carrying her inside.

“No problem, she can have a nap while I’m starting to cook.“, you suggested while you walked inside the house together.

Caroline nodded once: “I’ll bring her to bed.“

“Thank you.“ You leaned over to press a gentle kiss to your daughters forehead. She was now fully asleep in your girlfriends arms.

You started cooking pasta while Caroline left with Maya. It was not the first time that she tucked your daughter in, but it still made you feel warm inside.

A sheet of paper on the kitchen table caught your attention, right as you were about to start with the sauce.

You wiped your hands on a dish towel and skimmed over the document.

The words on the first few lines made your heart skip a beat but you had to suppress a gasp as you saw Carolines signature on it.

Caroline returned into the kitchen in that exact moment, you held up the paper and whispered: “What is that?“

Your girlfriend bit her lip, nervous energy was radiating off of her.

She took a deep breath before answering with an unusually shaky voice: “I… uhm… I thought if we want this to be something longterm, we should be a family on paper too.“

There was nothing you could do. Your eyes immediately welled up with tears. You put the adoption papers back on the table and walked towards your girlfriend: “Caro, this means a lot… you know that?“

“You know, we can just throw this in the trash if you don’t want this.“, she started but you pulled her towards you into a hug.

“No, I want this.“, you sniffed. Tears ran down your cheeks, moved by this beautiful gesture.

“You do?“

You nodded, lifting your head to meet Carolines eyes: “Yes, I’m very sure and so is Maya. Her face lit up when Mapi called me and her your girls.“

“We still should ask if she wants that too.”, your girlfriend thought out loud.  

“Maybe after we had dinner?”, you suggested.

“Yes.”

Both of you were nervous when it came to finally asking your daughter the important question. Unlike Maya who looked serious between Caroline and you:” So, what did you want to ask me?”

“She sounds like she’s the mum and we’re the children.”, the Norwegian commented amused.

“She does.”, you admitted laughing, feeling the tension release a bit from your body.

The football player turned her head to your child, sounding earnest:” Maya, I have an important question for you, what would you think if I officially became your mum too?”

“Would you?”, Maya responded big eyed while she made her way to Caroline.

“I’d love to.”, your girlfriend replied seriously, feeling her eyes getting slightly wet by how moved the little girl and she herself was.

Your daughter went on to hug her:” Me too, mum.”

Overjoyed Caroline looked up to you, gesturing with her hands that you should join them:” Come here. I love you, my girls.”

“Are we still the three musketeers?”, Maya asked anxiously.

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, the football player reassured her:” Of course, we’re.”

“All for one.”, you and your girlfriend began beaming.

“And one for all.”, the little girl cheered, knowing deep inside that she could count on her two mums in whatever the future would hold for you three as a family.

[ssweetleaf]

million dollar man.

summary: you’re sick of seeing people talk down to robert, so you show him just how much you respect him.

robert fischer x afab!reader

includes: SMUT, rob’s asshole dad, kinda subby!daddy rob though there’s no daddy kink in this one, oral (male receiving), unprotected p in v, cream pie, breeding kink, semi-public sex, a really terrible ending because that’s all i’m good at

✩

“You ready, honey?”

The foyer sparkled around you, big marble pillars and stupidly shiny chandeliers all gleamed at you, causing your eyes to squint and your mouth to open in awe.

Everywhere you looked there were people, all dressed up in their formal attire— cinched waists and satin gloves paired with crisp waistcoats and bow ties, old money, new money, it didn’t matter, as long as they had a good seven digits within their net worth they’d be considered a part of the festivities.

And that’s where you realised you didn’t quite belong in that room, with those people.

“Honey? You listenin’?”

You shook the fog from your brain, eyes flitting to him. Robert. Your Robbie, handsome as ever in his suit, tailored to fit him just right, his tie matching the dark wine colour that was your dress. The dress he had got you and left on your duvet as a surprise. You couldn’t begin to imagine how much it had cost him.

You smiled up at him, small and not quite reaching your eyes.

“Sorry, Robbie,” your eyes fluttered to the floor, “just nervous is all.”

He stepped closer to you, big palms raising to cradle your cheeks, squishing them slightly and running his thumbs along the soft skin.

“You look beautiful, baby,” he said, full of sincerity, his eyes so blue and glistening. “S’no need to be nervous, sweet girl.”

You nodded, all bashful now, leaning into his kiss when he pressed a chaste one to your lips.

Robert hooked his arm out for you to take, leading you inside the ballroom with high ceilings and waiters that held trays full of champagne. You took a mental note to snag one of those flutes whenever you had the chance, you needed a bit of liquid courage.

Being Robert Fischer’s arm candy meant staying at his side at all times, with an arm hooked round your waist or a palm to the small of your back, any little touch to tell anyone that ogled— you were his.

His girl.

“Robert, you’re late—” standing straight and proper was his father, peering at him in a look much akin to distaste, not bothering to give you so much as a glance.

You saw Rob’s jaw tick.

“I’d like you to meet Thomas, he’s shown to be quite useful in the business, I’m sure you could learn a thing or two…”

Straight to business. Straight to the insults. The same old same old, shaking hands and discussing terms and money that you hadn’t a clue about— Robert’s teeth were gritted, hand gripping your hip to sate and ground him.

“Lovely to see you as always, father,” he spoke, sarcasm swirling on his tongue, blue eyes swarming and darkening at the mere sight of his own flesh and blood.

The conversation went on for a while before Thomas piped up, gaze settling on your figure, roaming and ogling, staring for far too long at your tits.

“And who’s this?” He asked, eyes never leaving yours. You felt uncomfortable, shifting awkwardly and hugging yourself closer to Robert.

Rob’s brows furrowed, a possessive arm tightening around you further.

“This is my girl-” he looked down at you, fondness and so much adoration swirling in his irises, mouth quirking in a smile when you settled your own gaze upon his.

“It’s about time you settled down,” his father spoke out before Rob had time to utter your name, “but believe me, doll, run while you still can.”

You frowned.

“He’s useless, I tell you. Absolutely useless—”

“I think that’s quite enough.” You took hold of your lover’s hand, tugging him along, “if you’ll excuse us.”

Robert followed along like a lost puppy, letting you tug on his hand and guide him to the nearest available bathroom.

The sparkly green tile gleamed at you as soon as you walked through the door, pushing him through and clicking the lock shut.

“What’re you doing, honey,” he stuttered, swallowing thickly when you pushed him up against the counter, smoothing your palms along his lapels and down his chest.

“No one gets to speak to you like that.” You muttered, frowning, and he smoothed at the furrow between your brows with the pad of his thumb, smiling slightly.

“S’alright, baby,” he began, cutting himself off when he saw you shaking your head.

“No, it isn’t,” you spoke, firm and to the point, hands moving to cradle his jaw and cheeks, skin smooth and shaven, so pretty to look at. “do you hear me?”

He chuckled, pressing his hands to your hips, swaying you gently, attempting to soothe you.

“I hear ya, sweetheart—”

“Robert, I mean it.” You swiped at the skin underneath his eyes, palming his delicate skin and marvelling at how pretty he was. Oh, how vulnerable he could be when he was with you.

You stared at each other for a while, eyes flitting over every blemish and dimple, savouring the sight as if the world was coming to an end, shifting to a close.

You pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, a chaste one, so soft it was barely there, leaning in close, your lashes fluttering against his cheek bone.

“Let me show you.” You muttered, pressing another kiss, a firmer one, to his lips now, then another, far more desperate. “Let me show you, Robbie.”

“Honey,” his chuckle was nervous, voice cracking and eyelids fluttering closed when your mouth mapped along the sharp line of his jaw. “honey, not here— n-not now.”

You pulled back, an over-exaggerated pout playing upon your lips before you leaned in, mouth pressed to his ear, tongue flicking against the shell when you uttered into it.

“Please, sir.”

He whimpered, broken and whiny, and you could feel him against your belly, already hard and throbbing when your breath fanned along his neck.

“Okay,” he sighed, almost dreamily, bucking his hips against you and holding onto you tight. “Alright, darling, you know I’ll do anything for you.”

He was breathless, seeing stars, sucking his lip between his teeth when you lowered yourself to kneel in front of him, hands smoothing along his thighs, the expensive material of his Italian suit glided along your palms, smooth and elegant before you found what you were looking for.

A bulge tightened his trousers, stretching the fabric, barely being able to contain the sheer size of his big cock, you were sure if you left him any longer a wet spot would form.

“Please, sweetheart,” he was the one saying please now, petting at your hair and smoothing down the tresses, chest heaving at your kneeling form, looking all pliant though he knew you were the one in charge.

You pulled at his belt, tugging it through the buckle, the leather squeaking when you grew impatient with it, wanting it off. Then you unbuttoned him, drawing down his fly, pushing them down along with the tight constriction of his boxer briefs, letting them pool at his ankles.

His cock sprang free, slapping against his stomach, a long pearlescent string of pre-cum sticking to his skin, mouth-wateringly so.

“So pretty,” you cooed, reaching up to take him in your hand, girthy and long, everything you’d ever need, your fingers barely being able to touch from the thickness. “Can’t believe you’re mine.”

“All yours, darling—” he whined, breathy and muscles tensing. “all for you.”

You hummed, leaning forward to kiss at his tip, stroking him with your fist, slow and sensual, grinning as his breath picked up.

You licked along the length of him, along that thick vein that throbbed hotly, sucking his balls into your mouth one after the other, leaving the stain of your lipstick along his flesh, before taking his cock down your throat, hearing him moan and whimper at the suddenness of it all.

“Oh, that’s it,” he whined, thumb smoothing along your cheek, “good girl, s-such a good, sweet girl.”

You hummed around him, swirling your tongue around him and trying to take him as deep as your throat would let you, gagging around his cock, tears slipping from your heaves.

Robert felt his chest swell, the sight before him so pretty, suckling at his cock, your tears glistening from the light of the bathroom’s chandelier, so lucky he could call you his. His girl.

The ring box in his suit pocket felt heavy when he stared at you.

You took him further down your throat, salty tears slipping down your cheeks, leaving your eyes all sparkly and glistening, gagging around his cock every now and again, the sharp tug that Robert inflicted upon your tresses a big indicator that he greatly enjoyed the constriction of your tight, warm little throat.

“Yes, that’s it, my sweet girl,” he whimpered, hips mindlessly bucking with each downward thrust of your mouth. “So good to me, take care of me so well.”

Hell, if anyone decided to walk past the door to the bathroom they were situated in, they’d get an earful— the crude sound of sloppy sucking and his airy whimpers resonated around the echoey room. Someone was bound to listen in.

You had half a hope that Thomas was outside the door, listening to the sheer pleasure you inflicted on your boy.

“Baby,” he stuttered, whining and pawing at your hair and cheeks, desperate and leaking onto your tongue. “Can I cum? Oh, please, darling, let me cum.”

You took your mouth off him, letting your hand take over, slowly stroking him into your fist, thumb flicking over his head, so sensitive, you thought.

You pouted up at him, somewhat mockingly.

“Don’t you wanna cum inside me, Robbie?” You stared at him, whatching him heave and buck, cheeks all flushed and forehead sweaty, such a pretty, pathetic sight. “Was looking forward to it all night.”

You continued your pouting, adding a little whine to your speech, watching him nod exuberantly and stroking your cheek with his shuddering palm.

“O-of course, baby— wanna cum inside you, just wanna please you.”

You smiled, pressed one last kiss to the flushed head of his tip before standing, moving to lean over the counter, back arched and ass in the air, swaying at him teasingly.

His palms smoothed over your backside, ruching the skirt of your dress to reveal your pretty panties, a pretty shade of pink, a wet spot saturating the fabric that covered your cunt.

He groaned, grabbing a handful of your hips, kneading the flesh between his fingers. He gazed at your reflection in the mirror, taking his bottom lip between his teeth when he saw your pretty tits spilling out of your bodice.

“What’re you waiting for, Robbie? Haven’t I been a good girl?”

He nodded, still so red in the face, leaning over you to press his face in the crook of your neck, kissing your skin; a form of an apology.

“Yes, dear, you’ve been such a good girl. Always deserve my cock, always.” He hummed, pulling back to tuck his fingers into the elastic of your underwear, pulling them to the side and exposing your glistening pussy, juices dripping down your thighs and clit throbbing hotly.

Rob huffed out a breath, cock jumping at the sight before him, before gripping himself at the base, gliding it along your slit and bumping the tip against your clit, tapping it lightly before repeating the process.

“Hurry,” you whined, pressing yourself closer against him, wiggling your hips, the movement causing the ridge of his cock to slip inside your hole.

He pushed all the way to the base, panting like a dog and gripping at your skin, etching finger-shaped bruises into your flesh.

“Feel so perfect.” He whimpered, feeling you clench, trying to adjust to his size, the thickness of his cock stretching you out impossibly— you felt as if he was in your throat.

It wasn’t long before you gave him the go ahead to move, the subtle sting of his size still apparent, though the jolts of pleasure completely overshadowed the discomfort.

You were squealing into your arm, moaning like a porn star with every thrust, squeezing him and hitting your ass back in time with the buck of his hips.

“S-so wet, baby, so fuckin’ pretty, creamin’ all over my cock, aren’t you?” You nodded, yesyesyes, so obscene, you began to cry, heavy sobs heaving from your lips at the sheer pleasure of it all.

“Y’the only one that can make me feel this good, Robbie,” you moaned, blindly reaching back to find one of hands, clutching onto it and weaving your fingers between his. “M’all yours, Sir.”

His voice cracked when he whined out, squeezing his eyes shut smoothing a hand over the fat of your ass cheeks.

“Shit,” he hissed through clenched teeth, “baby, m’gonna cum already— m’sorry, sweet girl, just gotta fill you up.”

“Oh, please,” you begged, clenching and quivering around him, feeling the thick veins and ridges that ran along his length thrusting in and out, in and out. “Need it, want you to put a baby inside me, you’d make such a good daddy, Robert.”

His brain short-circuited at your crude words, hips stuttering and eyes going all starry and glossy as he came. Quick ropes of cum painted your walls, sticky and thick, and even with how sensitive his cock felt he continued to fuck his seed into your spasming pussy, your own orgasm washing over you with his filthy sounds.

Not a drop of cum was left to waste, all of it pushed deep inside, and once he was far too overstimulated to be inside you any longer, he stuffed his fingers inside you, plugging you with the Fischer prodigy and hoping with flushed cheeks and a beating heart it’d take.

All he wanted was to see you all round and full with his children. And soon the ring he had bought would be situated pride and place on your ring finger.

Soon.