#to prove himself in the only way he knew how

[flowerandblood]

Duty and desire (Oneshot)

[ canon • Aemond x niece • wife female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, sex content, smut, angst, praise kink activated, lactation kink, fluff ]

[ description: An incident between her husband and their sons causes her uncle to completely break down. She decides to show him how deep her feelings are towards him and to comfort him. A heartbroken, vulnerable, infatuated Aemond in need of simple tenderness. ]

Author’s note: The events of this oneshot are part of the canon of The Fall from the Heavens series and feature the same characters. I couldn't sleep and that's how I mentally coped with what I saw in the second episode of the second season. You're welcome, lol. If you still didn't watch it, wait with reading it (if you don't like any kind of spoilers). It can be read as a standalone story.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

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He had returned to their chamber earlier, tense and visibly frustrated despite the fact that he usually spent that part of the day sparring with their sons, training them in the wielding of the sword.

She smiled at him from above her book, watching as he involuntarily looked into the cradle where Visenya slept peacefully.

The birth of their first daughter was joyous news for the entire kingdom, including them.

"So early?" She asked, spreading out comfortably in her chair, curious about this change of plans. Her uncle only pursed his lips at her words, walking over to the table where she sat and reached for a cup, into which he poured himself a little wine.

He remained silent.

A bad sign.

"What's happened?" She asked immediately, seeing that hundreds of thoughts were currently running through his mind, which if they did not find an outlet would eventually explode in the form of his fury.

He took a few deep sips from his goblet without looking at her, setting it down with a loud clink of steel on the table.

"Viserys and Aegon have suggested that Ser Robert should be the one to train them today. They apparently want to become archers." He said with a sneer and anger that startled her. She swallowed hard, closing the book, understanding full well that his words were only the tip of what he was really thinking about.

"In your presence they always feel they have to prove themselves. They're afraid of being ridiculed in front of you. Maybe it's…"

"At their age I dreamt of my father doing for me what I do for them. This is our time together." He growled, looking out of the corner of his eye into the area where she sat, but not directly at her, immersed in his thoughts, memories and regrets.

"I know." She whispered and her words, something about the way she said them made his lip tremble, made him lower his head in shame and cover his face with his hand, drawing in air loudly.

"They are terrified at the sight of me. Both of them. They don't love me, they just fear me. Their own father." He mouthed, his quivering voice betraying that although he tried to control himself, something about the thought had broken him.

She stood up from her seat, shaking her head, coming up to him quickly, wanting to touch his arm with her hand, but he moved away and turned his head, not wanting her to see what was happening to him.

"If you could hear with what pride and admiration they speak of you when you are not there. They so desperately want to please you." She muttered in pain, feeling a squeeze in her heart at the thought that he might have believed he was a bad father, when they both knew how hard he tried.

"To please me? My sons, they live to please me? And if they don't then what will happen to them? Hm?" He asked and fell silent, looking at her at last, his eye red with grief and despair, his face simultaneously red and pale with emotion, his lips parted in a heavy breath.

He covered his eyes with his hand as he burst into silent sobs, as if he had not stifled the thought for a day or a month, but for years, ever since their first son had been born.

She looked at him in disbelief, stunned, at the same time hurt and saddened by his words, by the thought of how he judged and perceived himself.

"Looking into my eyes do you see anything other than love?" She asked, renewing her attempt, taking a step towards him, and this time he didn't pushed her away, looking at her uncertainly.

"– it's something else –" He whispered.

"– how can it be? – do you think I would love a man who is a bad father to my children? –" She asked further, and he swallowed hard, trying to calm his breathing, his cheeks red from tears.

"– stop it –" He said and turned away, wiping his face, walking to the other side of the room, embarrassed and ashamed of his weakness.

"– sit down on the bed, husband – I want to explain a few things to you –" She finally said.

He sighed heavily and did as she asked, making room beside himself, looking down at his hands, heartbroken. She, however, walked up to him and did not sit next to him, but on his lap, surprising him by taking his warm, red face in her hands, stroking his moist skin with her thumbs.

For a moment she simply looked at him, all helpless and vulnerable, feeling the heat in her chest.

"– you're defending our family – you're the rock that protects us – you have to show strength – be determined – and that's hard when you're king and father at the same time – the burden of the crown is great and you know it – you're trying to prepare them for it –" She whispered, with each successive word placing kisses on his red face: on his forehead, his temple, his eyebrows, his eyelid, his cheekbone, his lips, his jaw.

She felt his hands involuntarily rise to her waist, stroking her through the material of her gown.

"– so why don't they understand this? – why do they push me away? –" He muttered, focusing his gaze on her full, plump lips, his manhood hidden in his breeches pulsed softly in a natural reaction to her closeness.

"– because they are still children – children who need their father to love them no matter what – a father who will sometimes let them go their own way –" She said softly, in a gentle, light motion untying the black ribbon at the back of his head, making the front strands of his silver hair fall over his shoulders.

"– I just want to spend time with them like a father with his sons – I want them to need me –" He whispered, and she nodded, letting his broad hand move her hip closer, making her body press against his.

"– I know, my husband – my sweet, sweet husband –" She whispered and heard him draw in the air loudly, surprised, his erection pulsed hard between her thighs.

She licked her lips, wondering if he was aroused by what he was hearing.

"– my husband is so good to me –" She gasped softly, letting their lips join in hot, sticky, lazy kisses, making wonderful heat surge through her body. "– my sweet friend – my sweet boy –"

She shuddered as his fingers tightened on the material of her gown, his throat leaving a sound she had never heard before.

He moaned.

Not the way he usually did, low and deep, when it was on the verge of panting, but high, the way she did when he gave her sweet pleasure.

Their fingers tightened on their bodies, letting their mouths find each other in greedy, violent, deep kisses – his cock between her thighs swelled all over and pulsed, hot, betraying that he was now completely ready to possess her.

"– I love you – please –" He muttered, forcibly ripping her gown off her shoulders, exposing her naked breasts, all swollen with milk. Something like a sigh of delight and relief left his throat as he sank his face into her sternum, his thumbs stroking and teasing her nipples hard from the cold.

She moaned as she tilted her head back, untying the material of his breeches, feeling the wonderful, pleasurable wetness between her thighs, proving that she was ready to receive him deep inside her.

"– my sweet husband deserve to be soothed – doesn't he? – to feel his beloved wife – how warm she is – how wet she is –" She whispered, cupping his swollen, quivering erection in her palm, feeling how incredibly hard it was, its tip thick and smooth, dripping with his moisture.

"– yes –" He mumbled in shame, directing one of her breasts to his face, holding it in his hand, finding her nipple with his mouth, beginning to suck it loudly along with her milk as she guided the head of his cock against her pulsing slit.

"– ah – my husband is so hard for me – makes me feel so fucking good – so, so big –" She cooed, sinking slowly onto his manhood only to lift herself on it with a loud click of her wetness, opening her thirsty, fleshy cunt again and again on his long, throbbing erection.

"– f-fuck –" He exhaled, embarrassed, imposing a fast, aggressive pace on her at once, clearly aroused by what she was saying and how she was behaving, needing her affection, her acceptance, her closeness, everything he couldn't ask of anyone else outside the door of their chamber.

"– it's all yours, my dearest – I can ride you all night – you'll fill me with your seed as many times as I need, won't you? –" She gasped, and he groaned loudly into the skin of her breasts, clamping his hot hands on her hips, pounding into her like there was no tomorrow, panting and quivering along with her.

She wasn't sure she had ever experienced a similar orgasm, so overpowering, hot, soothing, delightful.

"– f-fuck – f-fuck, Aemond, yes –" She whimpered, throwing her head back as she felt his body convulse, his warm seed filling her womb wit his low moans of pleasure.

He released her nipple from his mouth, panting heavily, snuggling his cheek into her chest, letting her arms embrace him in a tight grip, her lips placing tender, hot kisses on his hair.

"– forgive me – I'm ashamed – I –"

"– you are my husband – let me give you relief when you need it –" She whispered, combing her fingers through his long hair.

"– but – it was –"

"– a husband can show tenderness and understanding to his wife, but a wife to her husband cannot? –" She asked in pain, and he swallowed hard, letting out a loud, shuddering breath.

"– it won't happen again –" He muttered, needing, apparently, for her to tell that lie so he could stop thinking about how weak he was, how he needed it, how pleasant it was.

That he would beg in his mind for more.

More of her tenderness.

More of her praise.

More of her love.

"– as you wish –"

[metanoiahh]

Get off my back - Daryl Dixon

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Summary: A great fascination for the youngest Dixon took over you ever since the Quarry. Daryl notices and in fear of reciprocating your feelings, he continuously pushes you away. After Andrea shoots him, you don’t leave his side with the excuse of keeping an eye on him.

Warnings: Implied age gap (reader early 20s, Daryl late 30s) Fem!reader, Usual TWD gore, mentions of injuries, angst, yelling, mean!Daryl, failed-ish attempts of comfort, slightly medically skilled!reader, cigarettes, Daryl being a little too abrasive.

Era(s): Quarry, Greene farm.

Word count: 1.7k

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Your eyes were trained on him the second you got to the group. As days went by, he seemed to have cast a spell on you, hypnotised you with something only he had. You saw beyond his mean persona, his rugged ways only making his vulnerability shine through. How you treated him didn't go unnoticed, not by him, certainly not by the rest. Always ensuring he had everything he could use before leaving for a hunt, sparing him extra food because 'He needed the extra energy', even small insignificant details like leaving his folded clothes at his tent door were starting to get to him. He felt like you could read him better than he could himself, which made him want to hate you.

Daryl kept everyone at a distance, but you were kept even farther. It bothered you and occupied your thoughts like a plague, you were practically living with the sole purpose of showing him he was worth everything you'd ever do and more. He had pulled something within you, although it was beyond your comprehension, you let your instincts and desire take you over. You were anything but pushy, you didn't try to force yourself onto his life, content with giving and not receiving even a glance your way in return. The archer hated that he couldn't bring himself to hate you.

In a fucked up world where the dead roamed, injuring oneself with the simple task of carrying firewood seemed flat-out stupid. Angry mumbles escaped the man as the log fell with a thud. "Goddamnit." Your eyes lifted from your task of shaping branches as stakes, at the sound of Daryl's grumbles. Blood dripped down to the ground as the blue-eyed man fixated on his newly obtained cut.

"Sit." You pointed to the nearest makeshift seat, marching your way inside your tent to look for your precarious medical supplies. "Wha' " He growled, squinted eyes now settled in your back, as he obeyed your command.

"You heard me." You replied in a quiet mumble, carrying alcohol, iodine, and bandages in one hand. You accommodated yourself on the ground at his feet, hands grasping his injured one in one swift but gentle motion. "Won't need stitches." You assured. Worried demeanor showed through your actions and on this occasion, he couldn't look away.

His stare changed from your face to your working consistently, as you finished wrapping the bandage expertly he looked at you through his eyebrows. "Ya' a doctor 'fore all this?"

A nostalgic smile crept up your face, usually content eyes now clouding with sadness. At your change of aura, he wished he could take back the question, even if he didn't understand what was wrong in his doing. "Sorry." He spoke barely above a whisper, raspy voice making him nearly unintelligible

"Third year of med-school. 'bout to start my fourth." He nodded, now wrapping his mind around your medical knowledge, you did look too young to be a doctor.

After that evening he stayed even further from you, which you didn't think possible. Still, you abstained from offering to look after his wound, knowing he was capable of doing that himself, and knew it would bother him to have the obligation of holding a conversation with you every day. The archer hated that you knew all that, proving his point of you being able to read him like your favourite goddamn romantic novel. If his mind stayed too much upon it, he would drive himself insane.

The next few weeks were hectic, in a matter of days you were already starting to get settled in a new location, a family farm that was lending you the place till the shot kid, Carl, healed and the lost kid, Sophia, whom Daryl frantically looked for, resurfaced from god knows where.

You paced around camp, Daryl had left earlier that morning and while that wasn't odd, the unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach was. "He's fine." Carol smiled at you, laying a comforting hand on your shoulder. Your brows furrowed, answering your own silent question as to how she knew what was on your mind. Being sly was never your strength.

"I know." You smiled, rubbing her back up and down in a reciprocation of her action. You admired how she stood strongly, after the death of her asshole husband and the disappearance of her daughter, she had survivor written all over her face. The calm atmosphere faded at the series of unfortunate events that continued to unfold before you. A shot, screaming and a bloody, limp archer being carried inside the house.

As Hershel worked on the wound at his torso, which you were relieved to know was not a walker bite, you got your hands on the bullet graze at the side of his head. The youngest Dixon would be fine, back on his feet in a few days time, that didn't wash away your anger at the blonde now standing behind you. "Oh my god, he's going to be fine, right?" Andrea questioned for the billionth time.

Your eyes travelled back to her. "You won't be if you don't shut your mouth." Attention back on your stitching, you mumbled an unintelligible cuss, anger practically bubbling out of you.

That night you slept curled up in a chair next to his sleeping form. He had woken up multiple times, only having the strength to look around the room and then doze off once again. You kept constantly waking up to check for a fever, maybe a broken stitch, anything putting his life at stake, your mind could not rest easy. Andrea had apologised to him and even to you, but you brushed her off, too angry to hold a conversation on the topic still.

The idea of not having the archer around made your heart sink. His rough hands that you ached to hold, blue eyes that got smaller the brighter his surroundings got, the unsympathetic yet very empathic personality that made him so fucking special, and his fear of being loved which pulled you close to him. Losing Daryl Dixon would've made you wish you stayed at the CDC. That would've been the day when you wouldn't be grateful at Doctor Jenner for giving you a shot at life.

"You need to stay in bed!" Exasperated, you grabbed both of the brunette's shoulders, pushing him down on the bed. The morning of the second day after his accident, Daryl wanted to get back on his normal doings. He glared at you sideways, the corner of his mouth lifting up before he spat out the words.

"Get off my back, bitch. Don’ need ya’ pesterin’ me like you’re ma’ goddamn babysitter.” He pushed you off him with a strength he couldn't seem to control under his rage spell.  The volume of his voice grew louder by the second. “Always ´round ‘ere. Big brown eyes starin’ like I’m bein’ exhibited. I ain’t your pet. Sure as hell ain't your boyfriend.” Now on his feet, he held the bedsheets to his torso as he looked over the room for his clothes.

You stared at him, not a sign of emotion on your features, though you wished you could yell back, maybe even shed a tear or two, but you knew it would be uncalled for. Same way everything you had been doing was.

You extended your hand holding a pile of folded clothes, his folded clothes. The brunette snatched them from your grip without care, launching them onto the mattress behind him.

His body caged yours, one of his hands gripped your forearm as you were backed up into a wall. Your free hand went to rest against his bare chest, no pressure inflicted nonetheless. “Dar..” You whispered, chin pointing towards the ceiling to look into his eyes. 

“Don’ call me that like I’m your friend. Ya’ could be gone tomorrow ‘n I wouldn’t give a goddamn shit.” His grip tightened as his face inched closer to your own, so much his breath fanned over the tip of your nose. "Yer so desperate t'be loved it shows how ya never have been before, but I don't do charity, so go bother somebody else and leave me the hell alone!."

He stood like that for half a minute, keeping you in place with his hand clutching your skin tight, though his grip fell the second he noticed a hint of pain in your eyes, though you weren't sure if it was for his grip or his words, implying you weren't worthy of anything. Making you feel small. He pushed himself off you, taking a good few steps back. "Get the hell outta 'ere." He yelled, pointing with his uninjured side to the, hopefully empty, hall behind the bedroom door.

You had vanished. Completely erased yourself from existence for the rest of the day. You grabbed the pack of cigarettes you had kept after your last run, a lighter, and climbed up the tree furthest away from everyone. You sat on the wide branch with your knees to your chest, the stilled bike belonging to the man you had pestered all this time staring right back at you, yelling the same words he had hours ago. He was right, couldn´t argue against anything he said, as much as it hurt, it was the truth.

You were down to the last two tobacco sticks, an unlit one being hugged by your reddened lips from all the nervous biting. "Hard as shit lookin' for ya in this state." His grumble woke you up from your daydreaming, eyes landing right on his as you brought the fire to your cigarette. "Wha's doctor doin' with a smoke? Don' tha' kill you?" He tried to joke around after being met with radio silence on your part. Attempting to rip something out of you.

A small smile formed on your lips, shrugging. "Gonna die sooner or later." You weren´t big on it, but ever since you were sixteen cigarettes were a habit of you that was embarrassingly hard to let go of. His head was at level with your legs, you weren´t too far up and he didn't lack height. Hence why he easily reached for the last cigarette and the red lighter beside you, lighting it up swiftly.

" 'm sorry." He whispered. The view you had was one you wanted carved onto your skin. The sun setting behind the archer, his dirty blond hair being lit up by the orange beaming from the large figure. Cigarette between his lips, as well as your own, and a shy hand, going to rest on your calf in an awkward comfort-inducing mannerism he wasn´t too experienced with.

" 's fine." You smiled, hand enveloping his. "i'll get off your back."

"Don'. I like ya' pesterin' me."

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i kinda hate it but i got it done lol

Anyway, my requests are open! please leave me anything you'd want to read and with no promised deadline I'll get it done :)

[rottenaero]

Steve stares at the orange shorts Eddie was wearing.

It’s summer, and the kids had decided to have a Harrington house pool party, which of course meant wearing swim attire.

And Eddie had dressed for that, don’t get him wrong, but the pants were throwing him off.

One, because he doesn’t think he’s ever seen him wear orange before, or any warm color that wasn’t red, really. Didn’t think it’d ever touched his skin except for Steve’s yellow sweatshirt.

And two, because they were weirdly reminiscent of the color people wore in movies where they were behind bars, screaming for their one call.

And Steve didn’t have a filter, didn’t really care to have one, and since they were already sitting down all he need to do was nudge his foot against the guys side to catch his attention.

So he did.

The metalhead flicks down his sunglasses- Or, actually those may be Steve’s. Whatever, he flicks down the sunglasses with a brow raised.

“ Yeah, babe?”

Babe, because whatever they had was far more than friendship, or two older men acting like divorced parents to a group of children.

He lifts his hand, gestures to the pants. “ What’s with the prison shorts?” He asks.

Eddie blinks, glances down and smirks. “ Just broke out from there before this. Thought I told you.”

He tilts his head to the side. “ Oh really?”

“ Mhm-hm. A lot of pretty guys in there, hard to resist, but I held out. Knew I had something better.”

“ Shut up.” He rolls his eyes, and Eddie leans back into his chair shrugging. Then, because he’s a good boyfriend and knows he likes being all dramatic, and wants to see how long the bit will last, he questions him further, “ What were you in for?”

He sets the glasses over his forehead so they were out of the way, tugging on a strand of hair in-front of his face in thought. Finally, he grins.

“ Murdered people for rit-ualistic sacrifices.” The way he says ‘ritualistic’ is over exaggerated, but what about Eddie isn’t?

Steve gives him an unimpressed look. “ You’re not funny.”

“ No?”

“ No.”

Eddie shrugs, sets a leg over Steve’s lap. “ Worth a shot.”

Quick as a flash, the man’s arms clutch to his chest, and he’s rolling out of the chair making what seems to be dying noises.

Only, the chairs were set up by the edge, so without realizing it, after a roll or two he falls into the water.

There’s splashing, the desperate attempt to break through the surface before he finally grasps onto the edge and takes a big breath.

Steve can’t help the snort, and Eddie claps his hands together and points at him with an ‘ I told you so’ look. “ Ahah! So I am funny.” Steve rolls his eyes as the main hoists himself onto pavement, and crawls towards him.

“ Laugh for me, Stevie! Come on, again! Really let me revel in the fact that I proved King Steve wrong.” He’s got a wicked grin, and the jock can barely contain his own.

Finally, he’s weighed down, and he nudges the other man’s ankle with his foot. “ You’re a little funny. Mostly, you just look funny.”

Eddie whoops and cheers, shakes his imaginary pom-poms in the air. “ I’ll take it!” He leans down, smacks a kiss on his lips that’s really more teeth than lip, before lounging back down with his legs twisted between his.

Steve shakes his head, leans across the tangle of limbs to grab his sunglasses and slides them back on his nose.

[fgumi]

kenji sato headcanons ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ synopsis: what ken sato would be like as a boyfriend

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ pairing: kenji sato x gn!reader ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a/n: this is completely self indulgent because of ultraman brainrot hehe... ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ word count: 668

ken sato might be this charismatic player on the baseball field and to the press but kenji is an awkward, shy person when it comes to romance. his confidence evaporates into thin air whenever you’re around. imagine his surprise when he found out you liked him back. he was sweating and nauseous for an entire week before his coach was tired of him and asked you out on his behalf. he asked you to call him kenji.

i’d like to think he’s a big romantic because of his parents, his mother in particular. to find someone that he loves as much as his mother loved his father? that’s the dream for kenji. when he found you, he could see that future with you.

he is a man of focus. when he has his eyes set on you, you are the only person in the vicinity. at first, you were a bit insecure about dating one of the most sought after men in baseball. when kenji found out… let’s just say you no longer have those worries.

his love language is most definitely acts of service. he loves to send you texts throughout the day whenever he thinks of you.

“i just saw the cutest dog walk by and remembered that you wanted one. should i visit the shelter on the way home?”

“you wouldn’t believe how much i miss you right now.”

“thought you’d enjoy the sunset as much as me. missing you so much right now.”

“when i come home, we’re making macarons. i know how much you’ve been craving them.”

he was hesitant to tell you about his ultraman heritage. he avoided telling you for a month after you guys moved to japan. except, you aren’t stupid. the bruises he’d come home with weren’t from baseball. the bruises would suspiciously be in the same places ultraman would get hit... you didn’t question his decision to withhold the information. it was a very personal secret. you’d just ask mina if he was okay after fights and if he’d need an ice bath prepared.

the day he found out that you knew, he cried. it was a particularly nasty fight against an agitated kaiju. mina informed you that he’d need help getting home. when you pulled up next to him, he tried making excuses until he saw the first aid kit you had. he couldn’t stop apologizing. you just smiled and kissed him. the weight lifted off of his chest and he could breathe. when you guys got home, mina told him everything. he vowed in his head to marry you after that night.

now, he was incredibly thankful and considered himself very lucky that you were so accepting of his ultraman secret. he just really hoped you were also accepting of a kaiju baby. thankfully, you were a big fan of cute things.

despite how tiring raising the kaiju baby was, kenji always made time for you. he may neglect his sleep but he’d never neglect the love of his life. he wanted to prove to himself that he wasn’t his father and wouldn’t make the same mistakes.

when it comes to physical touch, i don’t see grand gestures despite his baseball persona. i feel like he’d want to protect your privacy. it’d be light touches like a hand on the small of your back or locking pinkies whenever you guys are close enough. he wouldn’t hide the relationship though. absolutely not. any time he can bring you up, he will. press conferences. interviews. small talk. the world will know he’s taken and he’s yours.

after seeing you with emi, he’ll most definitely want kids with you. he wants a child that looks just like you, whether it be by birth or adoption. he thinks that, if the kid looks like him, he’ll act just like him… he’d rather avoid that. he hopes he’ll be a good father.

[choerypetal]

High Heels / Five Hargreeves

summary: A short story where Five’s soulmate has been hidden from the family since Texas. One day, Klaus's desperate plea to meet them is finally granted in exchange for borrowing their familiar heels.

ps: english isn't my first language so i apologize for any grammar errors!

enjoy, xo

Among everyone, Five was the least likely to show affection. If he was ever caught doing so, it would be accompanied by a threatening glare, delivered in the kindest way possible. With his siblings constantly by his side, often in an obnoxious manner, Five would need more than just the Handler to keep him in line if necessary.

“So, you’re not going to tell me why I saw random heels in your room last night?” Klaus's desperate voice lingered in Five’s ear as he retrieved his breakfast, leaning in like a helpless puppy. Five could only respond with a sigh. It wasn’t as if he was actively trying to hide you from his family, except to avoid Klaus's incessant questions. “Just own it! I bet whoever chose to be with you would be ashamed to know you had the audacity to hide them from us!” Whatever Klaus in mind that day, was enough to irritate Five further. Proving his point, for him and for you. 

For once, however, Klaus wasn’t entirely wrong. Five had indeed intended to keep you safe, not only from the apocalypse but also from his own father. He couldn’t bear to lose another loved one. Even if it meant having you constantly by his side, he was willing to do it. Fortunately, you didn’t mind being the follower. In fact, you enjoyed it, perhaps a bit too much, and found yourself becoming clingy whenever possible. You never imagined that Five, the grumpy old man himself, would be the more touch-starved one between the two of you.

It was late when you sleepily nuzzled against his neck, his arms wrapped securely around your waist. You remembered how he was that night, with his pouty lips kissing your forehead and his calm demeanor. You were his safe haven, a fact he took his time admitting.

Five knew he wasn’t ready to introduce you to his family, and you knew it well whenever you brought up the subject. His brow would furrow at the thought, and his jaw would clench, imagining Klaus making a fool of himself, Diego casually flirting, Allison asking a bunch of questions, Viktor and Ben being the least supportive, and Luther... well, Luther just being Luther.

He sighed at the thought that same night, resting his head in your hand as you caressed his cheek, his eyelids growing heavier with each touch. “Y/N…” his voice was hoarse, protesting your attempt to go further. He knew exactly what he was doing, but you pouted. “Please. The stories you keep telling me about Ben and Luther! I have so many questions—the moon, and—” He chuckled, cutting you off immediately. “I’ve told you already, I don’t want to get you involved in this mess…” You could hear a hint of sadness in his voice.

“Pleaseeee,” you had begged. That’s when you remembered meeting Klaus one night. How could Five say no after hearing this? So you gave your shot. “You know…” your voice was enough to catch Five’s attention when his eyes gently opened enough to meet your gaze. His ears ready to listen. 

“...I might have already met one of them.” Now it was Five who sat up in bed, his messy hair making him look more adorable than grumpy. Who could you possibly have met? Out of all his siblings, there was no way— “Who?” he asked, waiting impatiently for an answer. Your lips curved into a smirk Five would be glad to erase with a kiss if you didn’t answer quickly. “The one with the long hair? Eccentric as well.”

He knew exactly who you were referring to. “Klaus? Why am I not surprised?” He felt a mix of relief and offense, considering he wanted to wait for the right moment, or at least until everything had calmed down. But of course, it was too good to be true. Noticing his unsatisfied expression, you quickly defended, “He pinky promised me that he wouldn’t say anything about me until you’re ready.”

Five was hesitant. There was a catch, knowing Klaus, it was impossible he didn’t want something in return. “What did he ask for?” he asked nervously. Seeing Five's impatience, you confessed, “To borrow my heels.” Five sighed. “But he looks so good in them!” you objected in Klaus’s defense. Five chuckled, remembering his brother’s words from last week. Your obvious confusion made you raise an eyebrow. “What is it?” you asked, completely oblivious, one of the many things he enjoyed about you.

Five’s lips curved into a knowing grin as he shook his head. Now he had a good reason to finally tease Klaus. Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss on your lips. “Nothing, love. You know I love you, right?” he said lovingly. You nodded with a sweet smile, exhaling a soft giggle and nuzzling your head back into his neck. “I do, grumpy old guy.”

[sequinsmile-x]

Battlement

She’d always worn her emotional control like a mask. A wall she’d built brick by brick throughout her childhood, reinforced every time someone didn’t love her like they should have, barbed wire strewn across any potential weaknesses, her wit and stubbornness the turrets to keep people away. It was a defence that very few people were allowed to see past, and even fewer could bypass it completely.

AKA Emily changes her mind about having visitors on the day she gives birth and Aaron faces the disappointed crowd for her.

-x-

Hi friends,

Not really sure where this one came from, but here is some soft hotchniss for you to start your week with <3

Please let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: Mentions of labour (non-descriptive), hospitalisation

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She was the happiest she’d ever been. 

She was the most exhausted and out of sorts she’d ever been too, but the tiny baby curled up against her chest was worth it all.

Issac Hotchner was less than four hours old and was already the centre of her, Aaron and Jack’s world. Jack had been obsessed with him when he came to visit just an hour ago, tears shining in his eyes as he held his little brother for the first time. It had been a quick visit, one Jessica had stayed out in the waiting room for, but Emily knew it would end up being one of her favourite memories. 

She winces as she shifts in the bed, the lower half of her body sore in a way she didn’t know was possible, but she smiles softly when she spots her husband jump into action out of the corner of her eye. 

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” Aaron asks, his own exhaustion clear as he sits on the edge of her bed. 

“I’m fine, honey,” she assures him, “I had a baby a few hours ago. I’m going to be sore,” she looks down at the sleeping baby in her arms, “I feel weirdly more anxious when he’s asleep,” she admits, “At least when he’s awake I can try shoving my boob in his mouth.” 

“Well that has always been my favourite thing to do when I’m awake,” he quips and she glares at him, failing to suppress a smile as she shakes her head. He smiles and shifts even closer to her, his arm hooked around her shoulders, “You’re already an amazing mom, Em. That’s been true for a long time.”

There’s a gentle knock on the door before it opens, and the midwife, Jen, who’d been looking after them since yesterday pops her head around the door, “How is everyone doing in here?” 

“We’re good,” Emily says, looking down at her son, “I think he’s eaten a little since you last came in. It’s hard to tell.” 

Jen smiles as she steps into the room, “That’s normal, their stomachs are tiny at this stage,” she says, her smile getting wider as she gets closer, looking at Issac content and asleep in Emily’s arms, “And he seems happy enough,” she looks back up at Emily, “You’re doing a great job.” 

It feels ridiculous how happy the praise from a woman who had been a stranger just 48 hours ago makes her feel, but it swells in her chest, her cheeks warm with it as she looks at Aaron. 

“See,” he says, leaning in and kissing her temple, “I told you. You’re doing great.” 

He rarely compared the two women he’d been lucky enough to be married to, who he’d been lucky enough to be loved by and to love in return, but he couldn’t help but think of Haley the last few hours. Emily’s insecurity around how she was doing as a new mom was familiar, an echo of another life that felt so far away yet right here at the same time. He’d tried to fix it for Haley back then, a new parent himself, desperately trying to prove he wasn’t his own father, instead of just doing what she needed. It had led to disagreements he winced at when he looked back on them, made him want to shout at his past self and tell him to just shut up and ask what his wife wanted instead of trying to guess. He wasn’t going to make the same mistakes this time. He was going to let Emily lead and only push when he knew she needed him to. 

Emily’s smile shakes as she nods and briefly leans into his kiss before adjusting her hold on Issac as she turns back to Jen, “Do you need to take him for another test?” 

“No,” Jen says, “He’s all yours for now. I did come to say there’s a rather sizeable welcome party in the waiting room for Issac. Do you want me to let them come through?” 

Emily’s smile slips from her face, anxiety she didn’t understand washing over her, the waves of it so strong it pulls her under, making it difficult to breathe. She felt torn open in every possible way. Her labour had been long, pushing her to her limits as seconds felt like hours and hours felt like days. Eventually, after she’d burst into tears when he told her only 30 minutes had passed since she’d last asked, Aaron had stopped telling her the time. He’d simply told her she was doing great, something that hadn’t felt true at the time, and provided whatever physical and emotional support she needed.

The relief she’d felt when she felt her son slip into the world, his cries filling the room only a second later, was unlike else she’d ever experienced. The second he’d been laid on her chest she was overcome with love for him. It spilled out of her onto her cheeks, burning tracks against her skin she was sure would never fade, as she laid a shaky hand on his back. Her trembling breath skipping across Aaron’s face as he kissed her forehead, his empathic love pressed against her skin as he looked back and forth between her and their son, his hand resting over hers on the newborn’s back. 

She wants to share Issac with the world. To show him off and feel pride when people tell her how beautiful he is, but she isn’t sure she’s ready, her every nerve scraped raw, her normal defences torn down piece by piece until it was as if they’d never been there in the first place. She blows out a shaky breath and holds Issac impossibly closer, her hand firmer on his back as if someone was going to snatch him from her. Steal him away along with the sanctuary she’d found with him and Aaron in the last few hours, the relative peace she would have once thought impossible in a hospital room. 

“I…” she trails off, unsure what to say, unsure how to feel and she’s never been more in love with Aaron than she is when he wraps his arm around her shoulder as he talks to Jen. 

“Can we just have a couple of minutes?” He asks, and Jen nods, nothing but understanding in her smile, and he’s sure this is something she’s seen countless times.

“Of course,” she replies, unfazed, and she leaves the room quietly, letting the three of them return to the bubble they’d been in. 

Aaron turns just enough so he can look at Emily properly, “Em, sweetheart, what do you want to do?” 

She sniffs and shrugs, her lips pressed together as she tries, and fails, to stop them from trembling, “I don’t know,” she says, her eyes shining as she looks up at him, “I told them they could come. We agreed they could come after Jack did but…” 

“You don’t know if you’re ready yet,” he finishes for her, wordlessly reaching out and wiping tears from her cheeks, his touch soft and reassuring, his love pressing from his skin to hers. 

She nods, “I just…I can’t stop crying. And I’m so tired. And so sore,” she looks down at Issac, “And he’ll only latch on if we do skin to skin so I’m practically naked and I just feel so…exposed.” 

He knows her well enough to know that she was as worried about how emotional she was as much as anything else. She’d always worn her emotional control like a mask. A wall she’d built brick by brick throughout her childhood, reinforced every time someone didn’t love her like they should have, barbed wire strewn across any potential weaknesses, her wit and stubbornness the turrets to keep people away. It was a defence that very few people were allowed to see past, and even fewer could bypass it completely. It was a kind of trust that had to be earned, something she wouldn’t give away to just anyone, and it was nothing short of a privilege to be the person she trusted the most. The person she let see her like this - as defenceless as he’d ever known her to be. 

He squeezes her thigh and smiles encouragingly when she looks up at him, and he reaches out to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, not missing how she leans into the touch as if his touch and the weight of their son on her chest were the only thing keeping her going. He tells himself right then that he’d be her defences until she had her own again.

“Do you want me to send them away?” He asks, and her eyes go wide, her lips pressed together as she briefly shakes her head, ready to say it was fine, that she’d be okay, but he stops her, “Sweetheart, I mean it. I don’t care that they came all the way here, I don’t care that they might be pissed at me. Right now, I only care about you and Issac,” he assures her, his thumb tracing back and forth on her jaw, “Do you want me to send them away?” 

The repetition of his question eases the guilt that had started to build in her chest, his words as gentle as the swirling motion he was drawing on her skin. It pulls a nod out of her, a confirmation she hadn’t known she was going to give until she’d given it. 

“Yes,” she says, turning her head to kiss his palm, hoping beyond anything that it would say everything she couldn’t find the words for, “Yes please.”

Aaron smiles and leans in to kiss her, his lips stamping against hers and then her forehead before he leans in to kiss Issac, “I’ll be right back,” he says as he stands up, “You two wait there.” 

Emily scoffs, shaking her head lovingly at her husband, “As if I could get up right now without any help.” 

He turns as he reaches the door and winks at her, smiling when she sticks out her tongue, “I’ll be right back.”

He takes a moment when he steps out of the room. Stands in the hall and takes in a breath, slipping on the Hotch mask he knows he needs for the next few minutes, leaving Aaron the husband, the father, in the room with his wife and newborn. He smiles at Jen as he walks past the nurse's station and towards the waiting room. 

Everyone stands up all at once when they see him, excited chatter and questions overlapping each other in a way he knows would have overwhelmed his wife, making him even more relieved Emily had made the right decision. That she’d put herself first for once. 

“Can I hold him?” 

“How is she?”

“The picture you sent of the boys together was so cute.” 

He smiles, his hands clasped in front of him as he waits for them to stop, his eyes flicking from their faces to the ‘It’s a Boy’ balloons Penelope was holding.

“We really appreciate you coming,” he says, clearing his throat, “But Emily isn’t feeling up to visitors right now.” 

A mix of confusion and disappointment dances across their faces, eyebrows furrowing as the anticipation he’d walked in on fades away.

“She doesn’t want visitors?” Elizabeth asks, the first to break the silence as she crosses her arms over her chest, “She’s just decided this now?” 

He nods, “She has. She was in labour a long time, and it’s going to take her a couple of days to feel up to seeing people,” he says, his jaw set tight in a way that he hopes makes clear this isn’t up for discussion, “I’m sorry you came all the way out here, but it might be best until you wait until we’re home.” 

Penelope frowns, “But we brought balloons.” 

In any other circumstance, he’s sure it would have made him laugh. Her seriousness mixed in with such a ludicrous statement, but he swallows it back, not wanting to undermine what he was trying to do for his wife. 

“I can take them to her,” he offers, “And anything else you’ve brought. But no visitors.”

“Not even for a couple of minutes?” Derek asks and Aaron shakes his head, grateful when the other man relents, clearly having just chosen to push the boundaries only a little. 

“Well, can you at least bring the baby out here?” Elizabeth asks, “I’d like to meet my grandson.”

“No,” he says, raising his eyebrow at her, the closest he had ever come to challenging her, keen to keep his promise to his wife to not argue with her mother on today of all days, “I am not taking my son, who is only a few hours old, away from his mother.” 

She blows out a breath and nods, “Is she okay at least? This isn’t like Emily.”

“Well,” he says, his smile turning soft as he reaches out for his mother-in-law and squeezes her arm, “She’s never had a baby before, but she’s okay.” 

JJ steps forward, an understanding smile on her face as she puts herself between him and the rest of them, “Why don’t we all go get a drink? Wet the baby’s head,” she turns to Aaron, “And then when you’re home and ready we’ll come armed with enough casseroles to fill your freezer and excited to meet him.” 

“That would be great,” he says, smiling gratefully at her, something she shakes her head at, silently telling him it was fine. That she’d been there. 

“Come on,” Dave says, smiling at Aaron as he gets everyone else's attention, “I’ll even buy the first round.” 

“Fine,” Penelope says, pouting in a way he knows Emily would get a kick out of as she hands him the balloons, “Just give them both a kiss from me.”

“Of course,” he replies, “Thank you.” 

He watches as they go, his face twisting into a smile as he hears Spencer explain where the term ‘wet the baby’s head’ originated from, and he sighs in relief when they disappear into the elevator. He heads back to Emily’s room immediately, not wanting to be away from her and Issac any longer than necessary. When he walks back in, balloons first, she chuckles, her smile wide as he sets them down in the corner. 

“You look cute holding balloons,” she says, a spark in her smile that makes him laugh as he walks over to join them on the bed, “Were they okay?”

He kisses her and nods, “They were fine. In fact, I think the team may be about to take your mom to O’Shea’s to wet Issac’s head.”

She laughs, her head thrown back, none of the anxiety he’d seen earlier anywhere to be found, “Now that I would pay to see,” she rests her head on his shoulder, “Want to hold him for a bit?”

“Always.” 

She eases Issac into Aaron’s arms, and she doesn’t quite understand the ache she feels when her arms are empty. She decides to wrap them around one of Aaron’s arms, holding him close as she looks at their son, the three of them sitting there in contented silence. 

“Thank you,” she says eventually, resting her head on his shoulder, looking down at her baby who looked impossibly smaller in Aaron’s arms.

“For what?” Aaron asks, kissing the top of her head, catching the arch of her eyebrow as she tilts her head up to look at him.

“For loving me enough to piss off all of our friends,” she says, her lips curling into a smile, “And my mother.” 

He smiles and holds Issac to his chest with one hand, using the other to hook a finger under her chin, tilting her head further so he can kiss her. He pulls back just enough to speak, “You never have to thank me for loving you, Em,” he kisses her again, “It comes naturally. It would be like thanking me for breathing.” 

She chuckles and shakes her head, tears pressing at the back of her eyes again, “You are ridiculous,” she says, kissing him, only pulling back when she hears Issac cry out, his face screwed up in a frown as they look down at him, “Daddy is ridiculous, Zaccy,” she says, running her knuckle over her son’s petal soft skin, her tumultuous emotions washing over her again, “But we love him anyway.” 

He hears the crack in his wife’s voice and he passes the baby over to her, the soft smile of gratitude she gives him all the confirmation he needs that he’s done the right thing. He shifts them so he’s settled behind her on the bed, her back against his chest as he holds them both in embrace, his lips against her temple as he sighs contentedly. 

“And I love you both,” he says, adjusting the tiny hat on Issac’s head, “So much.” 

-x-

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[nknoxe-n]

*♡∞:｡.｡HOLD ME BACK*･῾ ᵎ⌇ ⁺◦✧.*

Synopsis; You can't seem to control your temper sometimes, good thing Rin knows exactly how to save the person at the other end of your wrath

Warnings: [Implied male reader] [established friendship] [pining if you squint]

w.c: 1.4k

Rin watched carefully as you sat on the bench during their break, hair clung to your forehead from sweat glossing your skin, the nozzle of your water bottle being brought to your lips taking greedy gulps making your adams apple bob with every swallow. His eyes raked over your face, taking in your body language with ease.

The two of you had been friends before Sea had left him meaning you were the only person he allowed to get so close with him, there was a time of falling out after his big brothers disappearance in his life where he tried pushing you away but instead of falling behind you pushed even harder, you even joined the soccer team to prove you could keep up with him and wouldn't vanish from his side.

With all your time spent together it wasn't hard for Rin to pick you apart piece by piece, besides the fact you'd confided in him plenty of times he didn't need your words to understand you, Rin often prided himself in his ability to dissect someone based off of a single glance but when it came to you, it took effort and time before he was able to meet your gaze and understand how you felt.

His sharp teal eyes laid locked with yours while you huffed dropping your water back onto the bench, it was easy to tell, you were, undoubtedly, pissed off.

Rin didn't speak, he knew exactly why you were angry, there was no reason to ask if you were 'okay' if he was already sure of the answer. The team you were up against wasn't good by any means, just another group of lukewarm idiots for Rin to use as stepping stones for his pro career, he didn't even bother to pay them any mind, not a single drop of his attention.

You on the other hand, Rin knew you were somewhat of a hothead, and it wasn't hard to rile you up, It's not like you had anger issues or anything you're just a little bit more emotionally oriented compared to him, you cared about other peoples opinions on you which could only be justified since you were an extremely social person.

Rin never understood how the two of you could even stand each other, you were loud, obnoxious, hell you knew everyone in their high school by name and were almost always surrounded by a group of people practically begging for your attention which you'd happily give them without a second thought, you were observant of everyone you spoke with and considerate enough to remember so much about those useless NPC's.

You were constantly doing the polar opposite of what Rin would, you were way too trusting he'd consider it naivety, but it's not like you were blind to people trying to take advantage of you, he would barely speak in class besides answering when called on while you would actively make stupid jokes and dumb answers for the audience of idiots considered their classmates.

When the two of you were alone it was an entirely different story, the emotional whiplash he got the first time he spent a whole day with you at school after you'd become popular and then walking home alone together later on, he didn't even recognize you with the difference. There was a soft-spoken gentle side that you'd reserved just for him, a vulnerable, frustrated, angry, hardworking kid always putting on a show for other people so they'd enjoy your company and in return Rin would be vulnerable with you as well.

He snapped back into reality when you got up now that the break was over, he felt a pit of worry in his stomach but trusted you enough to not throw hands with player '4' on the opposing team who'd been shoving around petty insults to all the players, the same player that'd leached onto you seeing how much you reacted to those meaningless words.

The first time one of your passes to Rin was blocked, and it'd costed them a point that lukewarm bastard started rambling on about your skill and how you seemed like newer player, he'd constantly been talking shit the entire game even if his team was losing 3-1, and it was affecting your ability to think clearly as you started messing up more and more which only fuelled the fire.

Rin stepped out onto the field his eyes only leaving you to glance at that shitbag who was grinning from ear to ear at you, their team only needed two more points before he could get you two away from each other, he knew he wouldn't have to coddle you afterwords or anything, but he also knew this was taking a blow at your self-esteem, and he made a mental note to take you somewhere to eat to cheer you up after he wins this.

-

The game was over quickly enough after all it wasn't hard for Rin to score two measly goals he was their schools sports prodigy as he made his way over to the sidelines where you followed not short behind him letting the rest of their team cheer amongst themselves in celebration, the two of you standing in silence.

He glanced over at you, frustration still evident on your features, brows furrowed, mouth pulled into a thin line along with a distant glare he would often see you take on when you were zoned out. Rin was about to grab the shoulder fabric of your jersey and tug, dragging you out of the trance that you'd nestled in, but someone else beat him to the chase.

Player number '4’ had somehow snuck over to the two of you without Rin noticing, pulling you out of the long stare only to glare at the player in turn.

"Didn't think you'd win, you're lucky you have that prodigy on your team, or we would have crushed you"

You huffed in annoyance turning to the boy "But you lost so stop bothering me douchebag and run back to your mommy"

"Wow, some defensive, did I hit a nerve? So you're aware of how much skill you lack, my bad I took you for an idiot newb-" He couldn't finish his sentence before you'd grabbed his jersey angrily, Rin was certain if you gripped the fabric any tighter you'd rip it.

"I think it's damn time you learn to shut your mouth before I make sure a cast does the job for me"

"Aw, you're really threatening me in front of a crowd?"

Rin almost felt sympathy for the boy as you went straight for a nut-shot, kicking him square between the legs before shoving him to the ground, Player 4 even though in breathless pain had hauled you down with him. You'd efficiently straddled the guy's waist and clearly started getting reading to punch his face in before Rin firmly clutched one of your wrist's and secured your other shoulder, hauling you up.

"Just leave him, this NPC isn't worth your time"

Rin grunted as you struggled and thrashed against him, clearly not finished with the task at hand, it wasn't generally hard to hold you back, but he almost wanted to make it seem like he was struggling, seeing the fear in that boy's eyes when Rin almost let go.

Some of player 4's teammates had come over hastily helping him up and stringing his arms around their shoulders while Rin attended to you, he'd simply thrown you over his shoulder with a sigh and a hint of annoyance at the odd looks he was getting for doing so. You'd ultimately given up when he did this, making it much easier for him to carry you off the field.

"I can walk you know…"

"Like I'd trust you to not start attacking people on sight" There was no change in his tone, but he knew you'd understand he was teasing you lightheartedly, it wasn't only you that'd wanted to punch that nobody.

He'd finally gotten the both of you to the empty locker rooms their teammates still outside on the field or had gotten picked up by family already, he glanced at you only to see you were already staring while he slipped his jersey off.

"So are we still going to that place you love that serves 'the best' Sea Bream Ochazuke or…?" He perked up slightly at the mention of his favourite food before sighing.

"No shit Sherlock"

[sosa2imagines]

Broken Hearts. Part 13

Warning- Angst, Fluff, flirting, misidentification, creeps on streets, accusations.

Two weeks had passed since the incident, and things were gradually returning to normal.

Bucky and Steve hadn't been seen around, but their absence didn't deter you from visiting your café. Your determination to work and prove that no one could stop you, not even your exes, was stronger than ever.

You were not letting your exes' actions control your life or prevent you from running your business.

Despite Lloyd's initial hesitation, he found himself feeling proud of your bravery and resilience.

But, being the protective and caring person, he was, he couldn't help but add bodyguards outside the café for extra security.

He also made sure to pay frequent visits to the café, claiming it was merely a coincidence and had nothing to do with the fact that Ari was helping you and the kids.

Nick, however, was convinced that Lloyd's regular visits were not just coincidental. He chuckled to himself, seeing right through his friend’s true intentions.

It wasn't much of a surprise when you received a special delivery request from the small town of “Knockemstiff” for an abundance of sugary pastries.

Lloyd was far from thrilled with the request, his frustration evident. While part of his frustration was due to your trip out of town, a larger part was because of the fact that Ari had decided to tag along.

Lloyd had no issue with Andy being in close proximity to you, as the man himself was known to be quite shy around you and was happily devoted to his wife.

However, with Nick, although he was technically single and had a way with ladies, Lloyd couldn't help feeling a pang of jealousy when Nick would get a bit too comfortable around you.

But deep down, Lloyd knew that Nick's intentions were good. Despite his occasional bouts of jealousy, he couldn't deny that he trusted Nick and saw the man as a reliable and loyal friend.

Lloyd's biggest concern was Ari, who was unquestionably attractive and single. Lloyd was steadfast in his belief that Ari was after you, and he had taken it upon himself to make Ari meet various girls, hoping to deter his interest.

However, much to Lloyd's irritation, no matter how many women he introduced Ari to, the man never looked at them the way he looked at you. Worse still, Ari wasn't intimidated by Lloyd, and that only added fuel to the fire burning within Lloyd. He was growing increasingly frustrated and possessive.

It wasn't that Lloyd didn't want to accompany you on the trip, he really did. But work commitments intervened, and Nick required Lloyd's attention to stay focused on your exes' situation.

As much as Lloyd despised Ari, he begrudgingly acknowledged that he could trust the man to look after you.

And so, here you were, entering the small town of “Knockemstiff” with Ari by your side and Peter tagging along to fulfill the special delivery request for sugary pastries.

“Is it just me or the people love their mayor/ sheriff a lot?” Peter asks innocently, seeing the posters and banners of the said sheriff almost everywhere. 

“Looks like so Peter, wait doesn't he look like Nick? But more like chubby and cuter version.”

“Yeah, he does looks like Mr. Fowler.” Peter agreed, his young eyes observant.

Ari, who was driving, chimed in with a chuckle. “Kid, no need to be so formal around us. We're both chilled people. Relax, will ya?” he said, noticing Peter's overly polite demeanor.

“Yes Mr…” Peter looked at Ari’s reflection in the rear-view mirror and quickly corrected himself. “Yes, Ari.” His choice of words earned a smile from both Ari and you.

“So what's the occasion?” Ari asked as he parked the car right outside the local motel.

“There's a newly engaged couple who are throwing a party, and the new Reverend will be attending it.” you replied.

As you carried the boxes of pastries towards the town hall, you couldn't help but notice people staring at you, Ari and especially Peter. It was a bit strange, but you shrugged it off, assuming they weren't unused to outsiders like yourselves.

As you entered the town hall, you were greeted by a scene of joyous celebration. The hall was beautifully adorned with colorful craft papers and vibrant flowers. The tables were meticulously set up with an array of drinks and mouth-watering food.

A special empty table awaited your treats to be placed upon it, ready to add to the spread of delicacies.

You took a step back and admired the pastries you had just arranged on the table, feeling a sense of pride at how they looked.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, you secretly handed a few to the kids running around, their faces lighting up with delight.

Meanwhile, Peter found himself being pulled away by a young girl, looking nervously around as he got dragged into a game.

Next to the other table, Ari was keeping himself entertained, grabbing drinks for both you and himself.

“Lord have mercy for blessing us with the lovely treats.”

As you faced the newcomer, you couldn't help but notice how striking he appeared in his crisp blue suit and white shirt. The man was towering, his dark hair and captivating presence giving him a mystical aura.

Ari stood behind you, listening intently to the conversation unfolding between you and the gentleman in the blue suit.

The gentleman in the blue suit extended his hand with a gracious smile. “Rev. Preston Teagardin.”

Returning his warm smile, you introduced yourself, “Y/n, L/n.”

Teagardin nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes glimmering with curiosity and intrigue. “A pleasure to meet you, Y/n.”

Teagardin's charm was subtle yet persuasive as he began flirting with you using faith-related quotes. He leaned in slightly, his gaze fixated on you, and with a hint of a smirk on his lips, he began, “You know, there's a saying in the Bible that compares a woman to a rose. Just like a rose, you possess beauty, fragrance, and an intoxicating allure that draws one to its depths.”

He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper as he continued, “But much like a rose, you also have thorns, and I find myself eager to be pierced by yours.”

Teagardin's words carried an underlying sensuality, his gaze locked with yours as he skillfully used biblical metaphors to flirt.

He chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “There's another quote in the Bible, 'Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires.' Yet, I find myself unable to resist the urge to provoke your desires, Y/n.”

Teagardin's flirtation was both playful and profound, intertwined with religious undertones that added an air of mystique to his advances.

You were utterly taken aback by Teagardin's overt flirting. In your wildest dreams, you would never have expected a man of the cloth to use religious quotes to charm and seduce you.

The situation felt incredibly awkward, and you scrambled to find a suitable response to his advances, feeling both flustered and bewildered.

While Ari had been quietly listening to your conversation with Teagardin, he remained observant and vigilant. Recognizing your discomfort, Ari handed you your drink, his presence a silent reassurance.

Teagardin couldn't help but cast a scrutinizing gaze in his direction. His eyes lingered on Ari momentarily, seeming to assess the dynamic between you two.

As Ari and Teagardin shook hands, the interaction was more akin to a stare down, their grips firm. Teagardin's eyes flicked between you and Ari, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“So, you two are a lovely couple...” Teagardin commented, his tone laced with a hint of mockery.

Ari swiftly cut him off, his tone unwavering. “Friends.” he corrected.

Teagardin chuckled, his eyes glinting mischievously. “I see,” he replied, his tone sly. “Well, you see boy, this is a small town and people are quick to judge.”

Before he could continue, you interjected, stating firmly, “Well, we don’t care what people say anyway. We will leave soon, so it doesn't matter at all.”

He then used his finger to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, making you feel a bit shy. Ari's eyes rolled instinctively.

Thankfully, Peter arrived at the perfect moment to break the awkwardness. “Y/n, I got the payment. We can go.” he announced, holding up a stack of cash.

Teagardin's smirk turned into a sinister glare as he focused his attention on Peter. “You,” he spat out.

“Me?” Peter stammered, swallowing hard as he braced himself for what came next.

“You killed my cousin.” Teagardin accused, pointing a finger directly at Peter, his voice rising to a shout.

The room grew tense as more people began to gather around, watching the unfolding drama with keen interest.

Ari quickly stepped forward, ready to intervene and defend Peter. “No, I did not!” Peter protested, summoning his courage to stand up for himself.

Teagardin's anger flared even further, his eyes narrowing as he repeated his accusatory words. “Yes, you did!” he thundered, his voice echoing through the room.   “Peter, come here.” You quickly ushered Peter to stand behind you and Ari, shielding him from Teagardin's accusatory gaze.

“Peter?” Teagardin questioned, scrutinizing the young boy's face intently.

“Yes, Peter.” Ari confirmed, his voice firm and resolute.

Teagardin's eyes widened in disbelief as he repeated himself. “No, he is Arvin.” he insisted, pointing a finger directly at Peter.

“No, he is not,” Ari firmly counteracted, “and we can prove it.”

Teagardin's expression hardened, his irritation growing with each passing moment. “Well,” he retorted, his voice laced with frustration, “he looks a lot like that kid Arvin who killed my cousin!”

The situation escalated, leaving you feeling uneasy as you finally realized why people had been staring at your trio. Gripping Peter's shoulder tightly and holding onto Ari's hand, you knew it was time to leave.

“Ari, let's go now, please!” you implored, your voice tinged with urgency. Without hesitation, Ari listened and took your hand, ready to follow your lead.

With Peter close by, you made your way toward the exit, navigating through the curious onlookers. Some still followed, their eyes fixated on you as you left the hall.

As you three left the hall, a group of guys in their early twenties, who looked like they had been smoking weed, started to follow you discreetly. The situation became increasingly unnerving.

“Fuck, we're far from the motel.” Ari cursed under his breath, realizing the distance between you and your accommodations.

One of the guys from the group stepped forward, a sleazy smirk on his face as he commented, “Well, well, look at that beauty and two beasts.”

Before he could utter another word, you swiftly delivered a tight slap, silencing his laughter and leaving him in tears.

Ari watched the scene unfold with pride, appreciating your boldness in standing up for yourself.

As the guy's friends quickly rushed to his aid, one of them caught sight of Peter and exclaimed, “Boys, that's the killer Arvin!”

Peter, no longer intimidated and frustrated by the constant accusations, channeled your strength and promptly punched the guy, taking him by surprise.

The remaining three guys, armed with knives, prepared to attack, but Ari was quick to position himself in a defensive stance, ready to protect you and Peter.

With a smirk, you reminded Ari, “Just don't kill them.” knowing full well that he could incapacitate them in mere seconds.

In the blink of an eye, Ari effectively dealt with the attackers, leaving them sprawled on the ground. However, the commotion had attracted the attention of some locals, who had now gathered around the scene.

One of the defeated attackers groaned in pain, their complaints echoing through the air.

“We didn't get paid enough for this,” one of them grumbled. Another chimed in, “Yeah, we didn't even scare them.”

Unfazed by their remarks, Ari grabbed the guy who had mentioned money, hauling him up by the collar.

“I'll pay you more if you just open your mouth and tell us what you're talking about!” he growled, his tone leaving no room for disobedience.

The guy whimpered and protested, “No, he said not to say anything!”

But Ari was not in a patient mood. He shook the guy forcefully before issuing a stern warning, “My patience is running low, and no amount of money can save you from me. UNDERSTAND?” he shouted, his voice echoing through the air.

Faced with Ari's fearsome demeanor, the guy shook in fear and quickly relented. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Don't kill me, sir. That guy had paid us to trouble you and scare the lady. Your friend has nothing to do with anything. He just looks a lot like someone who killed the Pastor and Sherriff's sister and her husband.”

The revelation hung heavy in the air, unveiling a web of deceit and danger surrounding the three of you.

The guy, still on the ground, admitted, “Yeah, we thought if we could get him, the Sheriff would be proud of us.”

Peter looked lost and bewildered, unsure of what was happening around him.

Ari's patience was wearing thin. “Who paid you?!” he demanded, his voice filled with frustration.

The guy, now trembling in fear, replied sheepishly, “We don't know. He just paid us to do the job.”

You sighed, realizing that the answer was not surprising. Ari exchanged a knowing glance with you, silently acknowledging the situation's complexities.

Frustration and anger consumed you, and you vented your emotions to the heavens, screaming, “I can't work, can't travel, can't do anything!”

Ari listened sympathetically, offering comfort with sweet nothings whispered in your ear.

However, your outburst continued as you pulled away from his embrace and yelled into the sky, “I hate you, Steven Grant Rogers. I hate you, James Buchanan Barnes!”

As Peter whispered your name, drawing your attention, you pivoted to face him. Without a moment's hesitation, you enveloped him in a tight hug.

“Hey, are you okay?” you inquired, concerned for him.

Peter chuckled, replying, “Yeah, I'm good. Wait, how are you?”

You responded with a sheepish smile, “I'm good. Sorry about the mess, though.”

“No,” Peter assured you, “it's not your fault. I just happen to look like a murderer.”

You couldn't help but laugh aloud, and Ari joined in, his laughter echoing yours.

“Lloyd won't believe this…” Ari tells you.

You squeezed Peter's face, a mix of disbelief and amusement shone in your eyes. Turning to Ari, you couldn't help but comment, “See how on earth he looks like a killer? This town has lost it.”

Ari chuckled again, appreciating your humor in the face of such a bizarre situation.

He then spoke up, suggesting, “Let's go home, shall we?”

Both you and Peter nodded in agreement, ready to leave the chaos behind and seek refuge at home.

The locals that had gather around you, had their voices filled with anger and accusations, repeatedly calling Peter “murderer.” You and Ari stood protectively in front of him, shielding him like protective parents.

You desperately tried to explain the misunderstanding, pleading with the townsfolk, but their anger and stubbornness deafened their ears to your words. They slowly inched closer, their frustration mounting.

The tension in the air was palpable as Ari did his utmost to diffuse the situation, but his efforts seemed futile.

Just as things began to escalate further, the town's hero and the star of the banners and posters, Lee Bodecker, finally arrived on the scene. Sporting a cute and cubby appearance, he resembled a cuter version of Nick Fowler.

“Any problem here?” Bodecker asked, his authoritative presence instantly capturing everyone's attention.

Part 12-

Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

@differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @nekoannie-chan @emerald-writes

@redbloodedgurl @cjand10 @chemtrails-club @slutforchrisjamalevans @gracescor3

@ghostlythinggoingaround @princezzjasmine @3xclusivemariii @ephemeral-oasis

@geeky-politics-46 @dexter99 @calwitch

@whore-for-chris-evans @caplanreblogsfics

@pono-pura-vida @renegadesgirl1991 @iwudbutnah

[hojiteaversion]

I'd like to think Mehmed is thinking the same with regards to her, in this scene.

He gave her the sword. He controls his temper around her. She stabbed him and his response was to admire and kiss her. He promised to not hurt her friends. He kissed her in this scene because otherwise he would probably tell her everything, which he supposedly can't do yet. He's far from perfect but she is his one "weakness".

Lale was undoubtedly under his power in an unbalanced/dangerous way‚ but he is absolutely under her power as well‚ especially now, and I think he's known it for a long long time.

[rickybaby]

Nobody understands Daniel Ricciardo Like Red Bull do

[spocks-kaathyra]

pythas... . . .. .... .

[bloominstorm]

Wakui really tryna make me stop slandering Mikey out here.

[patrophthia]

mini skirt | theodore nott

pairing: theodore nott x reader

wc: 3.5k

genre: smut (minors DNI), fluff, best friends to lovers, meddling blaise zabini just coz, they’re in love 🤢🤢, self indulgent im so sorry for the person i am

smut tags: dry humping, coming untouched, (very little) oral sex, come eating, unprotected sex (don’t do this!!), fingering, size kink, breeding kink, bulge kink, cream pie, so much dirty talk oml, big dick theo 😞, reader being shorter than theo, reader wearing a mini skirt, lots of cussing

summary: blaise zabini’s idea of how to play matchmaker might be different from the traditional way of doing it but at least you ended up getting dicked down, so you guess his method works too.

Blaise Zabini's idea of playing match maker is whispering to you —in a not so quiet way, that he'd heard 'Nott's got a big dick' and though you swatted him away. Face disgruntled, mumbling about how you did not want to know about your best friend's private parts. You're terrible enough of a person for your eyes to drop to his crotch when he sat down on the couch opposing yours.

There's a call of your name, once, twice. Before Theodore leaned forward, his voice loud enough for your eyes to tear itself from his thighs to his eyes. You gulped, hoping —hoping that he thought you'd blanked out and just happened to be staring at a very unfortunate spot. "Hmm?"

Theodore's held onto your gaze, lazying back onto his coach. "You okay? I asked if you wanted to head back up but you didn't answer."

"Head back up?" You repeated. "Head where?"

He eyes you suspiciously. "To your dorm?" Theodore gets up from his seat and leans down to crouch beneath you, staring up at you. "Or mine?"

You blink. Mind running in all kind of ideas —save for the ones you knew he meant when he asked you this question. You shift slightly in your side, scanning the Slytherin's common room as the party rage on; it's nothing too big, a get together between all seventh year supplied with alcohol —that Draco definitely did not buy just to impress the golden boy, not at all.

"I'm pretty sure I saw Draco take Harry up to your dorm, and neither of them look like they're exhibitionists." You say off handedly, looking down at him. "Besides, I'm actually enjoying myself here."

And to prove yourself, you get up from your seat; pulling your mini skirt low enough to cover your ass. Theodore, despite having every chance to peer underneath it, remains respectful as he plays with the hem of your skirt. "You are?"

"You aren't?" You ask back, trying not to squirm from the way his finger brushes against your thigh. Salazar this was your best friend for shit's sake, knowing that he could hypothetically have a big dick should not turn you on as much as it was.

Theodore shakes his head, slowly, almost as if he was in a haze as he quietly tells you. "Not really."

"Let's head up then," you tell him, and though both of your voices are low —barely even audible considering how loud Mattheo decided to play his music. Theodore was able to understand you perfectly, picking himself up as he used your waist as his guide. "Come on."

His pinkie finger catches onto yours as he gets onto his feet, him towering over you the slightest bit. And though, Theodore and you leaving a party early to turn in for the night was a sight your friends were used to by now —knowing that nothing ever did came out of leaving the two of you alone to your own devices. Something about how Theodore was looking at you makes them think that that might just change tonight.

But, they regress and bid the two of you goodnight with a few sporting playful frowns on how you never stay with them until the party actually ends.

You only smile, leading Theodore up the stairs to your dorm like every other night. Once in the comfort of your room, you sit yourself down on your bed, patting the spot for besides you for Theodore to take. He did as told, melting into your touch as you brush his hair back. "How much did you drink?"

His eyes are shut, face leaning into the palm of your hand as his own grips onto your skirt, tugging you closer to him. "Just those two shots we took when we first went down."

You hum, letting him pull you to him. "Did you smoke?" Theodore shakes his head slightly, before opening his eyes back up at you. You laugh lightly. "Then what's up with you tonight? I'm always the one dragging us back."

"Just tired, I guess." He murmurs.

"You guess?" You ask him, standing up —letting his hands fall where it'd been trailing up your skirt back to his lap, lingering slightly on what sits above it. "When are you ever not tired?"

Theodore laughs at your words, eyes crinkling as he did so. "When I watch you play quidditch," he says, pushing himself up to press his back against the head of your bed. Watching as you shuffle towards your wardrobe, picking out a pair of sweats along with two shirts he'd left at your room. "Or when you're drunk out of your mind and I'd to have to play pretend as your boyfriend and take care of you."

You snort at his words, picking out a pair of shorts for yourself. "You don't have to pretend to be my boyfriend to take care of me."

"Mhmm," he hums from his spot, lounging lazily as you walk up to his side, the change of clothes in hand. "But it's more affective that way." His hand finds its way to your hips, pulling you closer to him. "And I like it. I like pretending to be yours."

There's a split second where his eyes falters, looking at you almost nervously as he waits for you to respond. "You do?"

"Mhmm," he hums, pushing himself up to sit straight. "More than anything."

It's nauseating to see him look at you —eyes lacking their usual stoic and disinterest to instead be replaced by lust and adoration.

Without thinking twice, you leaned down meeting his lips halfway as your eyes flutters shut. And though seated, Theodore was still tall enough to kiss you back with ease. Letting you melt into the feeling of his soft lips moving slowly and desperately against yours.

"Fuck," Theodore mutters breathlessly, he pushes against your hand; dropping your (mostly his) clothes to the floor. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."

"What?" You giggle, letting him pull you onto his lap. "Kiss me?"

"To kiss you again," He murmurs, attaching his lips back onto yours; a soft whimper slipping out of his lips when his clothed cock brushes against your core through his swift movements.

Fuck, Blaise was not lying.

In between your legs, underneath beige slacks, Theo's giant cock ruts up to you. You gasp into his mouth. "Ah—" you try to catch your breath. "—fuck, Theo. You've been wanting to kiss me since we were thirteen?"

"Mhmm," he hums, long slender hands gripping onto your waist before he slides one underneath your shirt and lays it flat against your tummy. His free hand, resting on your thigh, guiding you down onto him. "You're the only girl I ever want to kiss."

It's silly, you know it is —especially when his cock was pressing into your cunt, only separated by a thin layer of clothing— and yet you can't help but smile up at him, almost giggling when you ask him. " 's that why you asked me to be your first kiss?"

"Mhmm." He's smiling when he kisses you. "Can you blame me?" His tongue licks at your top lips, quick and gentle, trying to gauge on what you tasted like. "Prettiest girl at Hogswart and she was willing to be my first kiss."

His hand moves grips onto your waist, his touch blazing hot. "... Flatterer," you say, a playful pout prominent on your lips.

He chuckles, pressing his lips back onto yours, hand moving from your thigh to tug at your shirt. When you nod, Theodore pulls away just enough for him to take your shirt off and toss it Salazar knows where.

He doesn't even try to hide his staring, canting his hips upwards as he held you down. "Can you feel that?" He asks breathlessly, almost whining as he humps against you. "Can you feel how hard you make me?"

You could only moan, nodding dumbly as you rolled your hips. "Fuck—" he says against your lips, "—how'd you get even prettier, baby?"

And despite how hot —how nauseating it is to feel his boner pressing onto your wet cunt, you can't help but giggle at his words, at how turned on he got just at the sight of your tits. "It's just boobs."

"It's your boobs." He hand goes up behind you, making quick work at the clasps before kissing your chest, licking at your nipples; his hips not halting in its movement. "So so pretty."

His hand slips down, going underneath your skirt to knees at you thigh. "Shirt—" you roll onto him, breathless each time you feel just how hard he was. "—shirt, Theo."

Though incoherent, Theodore still understood you enough to pull his shirt off of himself before attaching his lips back onto you. His tongue glides against yours, swallowing your moans up when he bucks particularly hard.

It’s humiliating how the simple act of humping, combined with Theo’s hand playing with your tits, pinching and rolling your nipple between his long fingers with his tongue exploring your mouth has you writhing on top of him.

"Theo, ah—" you whine, hands gripping onto his shoulders to steady yourself, a familiar warmth building in your stomach. "— wait, fuck!"

Theodore's hips coming to a halt, as he watch you cum on top of him —in awe, without him even having touched you. "Did you just… ?"

You whine, pressing your face against his bare shoulder to hide just how embarrass you were. Theodore pulls you back, looking at you with what you could only assume was love. "Did you just come, baby?"

You nod bashfully, hands going to cover your face just for him to pin both of them down. "So cute, so so pretty." He kisses you roughly, rutting up to you. "Gonna fuck you nice and full, how’s that sound?"

Theodore only frowns when you nod, always having been the talkative one in your relationship. “Words, baby. That sound good to you?”

“Ah!” Your panties stick to your cunt uncomfortably, feeling all too messy when he grinds his cock onto you. “Good,” you whine, “ ‘s good.”

Theodore smiles, pressing a quick kiss onto your lips as a reward. His hand trails down to your thighs, flipping your skirt up before groaning at the sight of his beige slacks soiled by your slick and cum. "Look at the mess you made, didn’t even have to touch you.”

Sliding your panties to the side, Theodore runs two fingers down your slit. "Even your cunt's pretty," he murmurs, bringing his finger up to his mouth to licks at your juices. "You taste even better."

You're pouting as you watch him play with your pussy, fingers pressed onto your clit, going back in for another taste before you finally move down his crotch, just enough for you to palm at his cock.

"Fuck—" he whimpers, hips bucking onto your hand.

Feeling proud you pulled such a reaction out of him, you reach for his belt, lifting yourself up off of him as he helps rid himself of his slacks. Pulling back his boxers, you will yourself not to drool over the sight of his long and thick cock, milky from the precum leaking from its tip.

Your hand moves on its own, wrapping around the base of his hard cock only to find that your hand was too small to wrap all the way around him. "Why didn't you tell me your dick was huge?."

"You want me to —fuck—" Theodore whines, cock twitching in your hand as it begged for you to move. "You want me to tell my best friend about the size of my cock?"

"Yeah?" You move your hands up, thumb running along his tip. "Biggest dick I've ever seen."

"You never told me you had —fuck, baby— never told me you had a perfect cunt either." Theodore moans, the sight in front of him feels like it came straight out of a porno. His best friend and her small hands playing with his cock, tits out with only her tiny skirt stopping him from fucking her into the mattress.

You giggle softly before leaning down to take him inside your mouth. "Fuck!" Theodore choked out, hips roughly thrusting into your mouth. He's too big for you to fit in entirely in your throat and he knows it. And he's too close to cumming in your mouth to keep you were you are.

His hand pulling your head up and away from his cock swiftly. His eyes are shut, head leaning back against your headboard as he breathes heavily.

Your eyes are teary when he opens his eyes back up, and he wills himself not to think about how it's the result of him fucking your face. Theodore brings you up to sit between his legs, kissing you desperately, groaning when he tastes himself on your lips.

Your hand goes back to grab at his length and he whines, pressing his face into your neck and squirms underneath your touch. "Wait, fuck—" his hand goes to stop you, brain going dead as you pumped his cock. "—fuck, fuck wait."

Theodore moves away from your touch, pressing your hand down onto your mattress as he heaves heavily. "Shit— Next time," he whines, "we can do all that next time," he murmurs against your neck, pulling his head away to look at you, he adds: "but I need to fuck you. Please, just let me fuck you. I'll do anything to feel your cunt and fill you up nice and full, please baby."

And when he pleads for you so nicely, who were you to deny him anything? He kisses you again, laying you down on your back, whispering soft thank you’s as he presses open mouth kisses down your body. Slender hands roaming around as he tries to map you out. It's only when Theodore flips your skirt up, ripping away your panties to give himself a full view of your throbbing pussy did you realize what he's about to do.

"Hey, I liked those!"

"I'll buy you more, baby." You're dripping in front of him and he think he might be losing his mind. "Need to eat you out first."

"Thought you wanted to fuck me," you whine, gasping softly when he slides his fingers over your pussy, "why can you play with —fuck."

You pout at him, not expecting him to slide his finger inside you while you talked. "Why can you— ah! —play with me when I can't play with you."

"Not playing baby, just stretching you out," he tells you with a soft smile, leaning over to kiss your pout away. "Not gonna fit unless we stretch you out."

" 's fine," you whimper, feeling him slip another finger in, fucking into you slowly. "it'll fit just fine."

"You sure?" He picks up his pace, long fingers reaching places your own never could. "Don't wanna hurt you."

" 's fine," you moan when he slips a third finger into your cunt, "don't care if it hurts, just wanna feel you."

Theodore pulls out, bringing his fingers to his lips to taste you once more. Moving back up, Theodore grabs at a pillow, placing it beneath your lower back to elevate your cunt. Slowly, he guides his dick into you, gasping at the feeling of his thick head stretching you open.

"Fuck—" Theodore pushes in deeper, pausing when he feels you clenching impossibly tight around him "—your cunt's sucking me in so good."

The burn is delicious, his cock tearing you open from within, stretching you out to take him into you. "So full," you whine, pressing your head into your sheets as he slides in even deeper into you. " 's too much."

"I know, baby," he murmurs, rubbing slow circles onto your thighs, "just a little more, I know you can take it."

You whine pathetically, feeling him fuck the last few inches snuggly into you. "Ah!" He hasn't even moved and you're already breathless, feeling him in your stomach. “Fuck me, Theo. Fuck me nice and full.”

“You want me to fuck your small cunt nice and full?” Theodore pulls out entirely, leaving just his tip in your cunt before roughly thrusting back in, hands on your hips as he pounds into you. "I’ll fuck it nice and full for you, maybe even put a baby in you."

And when your pussy grips his cock at his words, Theodore drives into you even harder. “Put a baby in me, please.”

“Yeah? You want that?” He watches as your tits bounce with each harsh thrust. “You want to carry my baby? Have your pretty tits grow bigger? You want that?”

“Yes,” you cry out, eyes screwed shut, the pain of his cock splitting you open mixing with pleasure. “Yes, ah— want it.”

“Fuck—” Having just about enough, Theodore pushes your mini skirt up your stomach giving him a full view of how well he's fucking his thick cock into you. The mound of your pussy bulging as it makes room for his dick to spear into your cunt.

"See that baby? See how good your cunt’s at taking my cock?" He asks, his hand grabbing yours to press down below your navel. "See how good I'm fucking you?"

You can only moan, crying out his name when he presses your hand down onto the bulge in your stomach, pushing his own dick out of your pussy. "Feel how deep my cock is inside of you?"

“Gonna be so easy for me to breed you,” he murmurs, wrapping your legs around his waist to fuck himself even deeper into you. “Want me to breed you, baby? Hmm?”

You nod desperately, too cock drunk to speak. Jolting when Theodore presses a harsh finger to your clit, circling it as he fucked deeper into you. "Theo, I'm gonna—"

"I know baby," he says, his cock getting impossibly harder inside of you. He presses another finger onto your clit, rubbing tight circles as you squirm underneath him. "Fuck— you're pussy's so good. Need you to come on my cock."

Theodore leans down to kiss you, pushing his length even deeper into you. You moan into his mouth, fucking you through your orgasm, your legs trembling as you try to squeeze him in.

Theodore fucks your cum back into you harder and faster, chasing his own high. One quick glance at his cock coated with your cum, followed by the bulge in your tummy was sends has him rutting into your tight cunt, spilling his warm seed inside you.

Theodore thrusts a few more time just to savor the sight of you spread on his cock before finally pulling out of you. "Fuck Theo," you whined, his cum leaking out of you, making a mess all over your bedsheet. "Were you just never going to tell me your dick is huge?"

Theodore only smiles bashfully, pressing a kiss onto your forehead. "We're still on this?"

"You expect me to not be on this?" You say with a slight pout, Theodore only half paying attention to you as he grabbed a random shirt from the floor to wipe at you thighs. "It's almost like you don't even think of me as you best friend."

"Pretty sure best friends don't go around telling each other about how big their dick is, baby," he replies.

"Blaise can know about your dick size but I can't?" You murmur. "Talk about double standards."

Theodore pauses his movements, hand hovering over your spent pussy. "That fucker."

"Hmm?" You're curious now, confused as to why he was suddenly cursing out your friend. Never having been one to use curse words unless —well, unless he's fucking you.

"He told me that you liked guys who begged," he says with a slight front, going back to cleaning you up nonetheless.

"Is that why you begged to fuck me?"

"No, that was all me," he answers truthfully, ears tinging red in embarrassment,"just wanted to fuck you."

"And they say romance is dead," you say playfully before your eye zeroes into what's in Theodore's hand. "What about the whole breeding thing? And ‘s that my shirt?"

Theodore, freezes with his hands between your thighs, feeling you stare him down as he did so. Slowly, he unravels the shirt he'd use to wipe you clean only to realize that yes, that is your shirt.

"You ripped up my panties, messed up my skirt, tried to put a baby in me, and used my shirt to wipe up your cum," you say, frowning, "I'm never having sex with you again."

Theodore's quick to apologize, peppering your face with kisses, mumbling sorry over and over again. "I'll sneak you out of Oxford street, take my black card with you, how's that sound?"

— from bee: this is my first time writing smut be nice to me 😡

[slvttyplum]

squirting can be a little embarrassing when it shoots out when you least expect it, especially when it goes straight on your boyfriend's face, but to your surprise, when you opened your eyes, there he was with a blushing face with your fluids glistening on him.

he was in shock, but his body already had an effect on what he liked, and his heart was beating fast at the realization of what happened. suguru knew it was normal for you to squirt when you get extremely overstimulated, but on his face, it was new.

this was a new kink of his now; he wanted your fluids all on his face, sprayed out and dripping off of it. that’s how he knew you were feeling good from the pleasure that was pouring down on your body. the fact that you didn’t hesitate for a moment and just did it just proved that you felt good. 

this was better than you trying to hold it in to prove to yourself that you weren’t feeling as good as your body claimed; both your bodies reacted before you could. when you thought it was embarrassing that you squirted on your boyfriend's face, he convinced you that it wasn’t and tried to get you to do it more. 

“come on baby. i like it.” pushing his fingers deep inside of you, trying to get you as riled up as possible. it was like your body was talking to him whenever he did something to you, letting him know to keep doing it so that he could experience the pleasure of having you dripping all over his face again. 

once you squirted, you didn’t stop. it kept going; that’s what reeled him into wanting more out of you, and for you not to be shy about holding yourself back. every time you deemed something “embarrassing” during sex, the whole mood would shift, and suguru would have to comfort you, telling you what happened was normal. 

in this particular case, he couldn’t. he couldn’t stop everything and wipe his face from the beautiful fluid you left to slide down onto his face; he just told you to suck it up so that he could soak in this beautiful glory for a few

more mintues before fucking you again, hoping to make you squirt. 

there was no better feeling than him pushing himself deep inside of you and feeling you about to squirt. it was a feeling that couldn’t be put into words. it just felt very warm, and that warmness made him want to explode inside of you with no regret. 

your fluid glistening on his lower half as he continues to fuck you to squeeze more out of you, suguru just couldn’t help it. everything that came out of you was special; he couldn’t help that he found everything you did attractive; that was the problem.

the way your eyes would get big whenever it happened, followed with your eyes closing shut from the after shocks of it only to have suguru fucking into you, hoping he would be able to get you to do it again. making sure he makes you feel so good that you’re squirming from a brush of his thumb over your body or a light peck to the neck. 

he wanted your body to be sensitive, he needed you to squirt on him, show how much you loved him, so that he could drown in between your thighs or cover it up so that he could feel the warm sensation hit his hand while your eyes widened. 

or putting his hand on your lower stomach as he can feel you suck in from surprise, or pushing back out as you give into the desire of having your pleasure trickle all over his face with love. 

there was no better feeling than that. 

[kaiijo]

ROMANCE TROPES — [HAIKYUU]

characters: hinata shoyo, miya atsumu, bokuto koutarou, sakusa kiyoomi content: gn! reader, the msby four, rich sakusa (i am a rich sakusa truther until the end), bokuto picks you up, sakusa is implied to be taller than you notes: omg i lowkey want to do a fuller version of sakusa’s part 

hinata shoyo ✶ love at first sight

slouched in a plastic airport seat, hinata’s leg bounces anxiously as he awaits his flight. rain beats down the side of the windows and he prays to whatever universal force there is that the flight leaves at the right time. he couldn’t fly with everyone else earlier since he celebrated his grandmother’s birthday with family but it put him on a late night flight that lined up with an incoming storm. 

he scrolls mindlessly through his social media feed, double-tapping a photo of oikawa’s reunion with his high school team and tanaka’s anniversary post for kiyoko. 

the speaker system crackles to life. “attention, passengers of flight 7644 to sapporo, due to inclement weather conditions, the flight has been delayed an estimated two hours. we apologize for the inconvenience and thank you for your patience.”

hinata curses under his breath, already on his way to pulling up the black jackals’s group chat to tell them. he pulls his cap off, running a hand through his hair with a long sigh. his phone begins to buzz with texts, no doubt from his coach telling him to keep them updated. 

he rests his forearms on his knees, slumping forward and skimming through the messages. then, he feels a cautious tap on his shoulder and a soft voice asks, “excuse me, do you have a charger i could use?”

when he looks up, hinata thinks the greater powers that be answered a different prayer of his. because holy shit he has never seen anyone as beautiful as you. you’re in a comfy-looking pullover and sweatpants and hinata only realizes he’s just been staring silently for a few seconds when your expression turns apologetic. “i’m sorry to bother you, i’ll ask someone else!”

“no, no, i’m sorry,” he says, words tumbling out of his mouth. he scrambles to unzip his backpack, rummaging through until he triumphantly pulls out his charger. he hands it to you and you thank him. before you can leave, he blurts out, “i’m hinata.”

“oh!” you stick your hand out and tell him your name with a small smile and when you do, hinata knows that he’s gone. 

miya atsumu ✶ brother’s best friend

osamu’s not sure how atsumu managed to weasel his way into his plans. it was a bit of a blur, atsumu practically crashing through the door of onigiri miya as osamu closed up shop to go get drinks with you, begging to be included. he supposes to reason was pity and atsumu’s pleading look as well as the fact that you work far away that had him agreeing to his brother tagging along. 

it was in your last year of high school that osamu figured out his brother had a big, fat crush on you. honestly, it should have been more obvious, especially with the way atsumu flaunted himself and often paraded around the house shirtless when he knew you were coming over. it bothered him at first, thinking bitterly that ‘tsumu couldn’t let him just have one thing to himself? but over time, the annoyance faded as he saw atsumu prove that this wasn’t just a flight-of-fancy, and osamu has already made peace with the very real possibility that you could be his in-law someday. that is, is atsumu could even tell you in the first place.

it’s a little disturbing, osamu thinks, watching the way atsumu flirts with you and wondering if he too makes the same googly-eyes at someone he’s crushing on or if that’s the way he sounds. you giggle when atsumu tries to take a sip of your margarita, telling him, “order your own then, ‘tsumu!”

“nah, yours tastes way better.”

“can’t take this scrub anywhere,” osamu says, earning a laugh from you and a glare from his twin.

you pat atsumu’s shoulder and osamu can’t believe you don’t feel how atsumu melts into your touch. “i’m actually glad both of you are here,” you say, “because i wanted to tell you guys that i’m moving back to tokyo! my boss promoted me so i’m back at main headquarters! isn’t that great?”

“that’s awesome,” osamu says, speaking for both himself and atsumu, who looks like he just won the lottery. 

bokuto koutarou ✶ opposites attract

whenever akaashi introduces you and bokuto as a couple to new people, he always gets pulled over to the side and asked in a whisper, “how did those two get together? he’s so… and they’re less…” 

akaashi can’t say that he wasn’t surprised when you and bokuto started dating back in high school, given that they two of you were on very different trajectories. obviously, bokuto was the captain of fukurodani’s volleyball team while you were student council president and vice-president of chess club. bokuto’s grade sat at the lower end of the spectrum while you were always within the top five students in your class. bokuto liked loud, screaming parties while you preferred a quiet night with a few friends. 

so when bokuto grabbed him by the shoulders one day and shook him, saying that he needed to tell you how he felt, akaashi was taken off-guarded. he didn’t even know you knew each other beyond having a mutual friend, him. 

maybe back then, akaashi would have agreed with the person asking him but now, he just tells them to observe the two of you. because when akaashi does, everything falls into place. like right now, as he and bokuto sit in the stands, watching your final chess match. if you win, you’ll hold onto your spot as a national champion and go on to compete internationally. 

out of the corner of his eyes, akaashi watches as bokuto sits at the very edge of his seat, chewing on his bottom lip. it’s clearly killing him not to cheer and it’s a testament to both his devotion to you. your hand hovers above the bishop before you switch quickly to the queen and move the piece with confidence, setting it down and announcing, “checkmate.”

the crowds erupts into the cheers and you’ve only barely finished shaking your opponent’s hand when bokuto flies out of his seat and barrels towards you. he sweeps you off your feet, spinning you once and setting you down before planting a big kiss on your cheek. you’re beaming as you’re handing your trophy, and bokuto steps back to let you soak up your spotlight. akaashi can’t help but notice that bokuto is beaming too and clapping the loudest. 

as the crowd starts to disperse, akaashi and bokuto join you again, ready to take you to your planned dinner. before you leave, bokuto says, “i was going to do this later but i can’t hold it in anymore, babe.” and he gets down on one knee with a ring box akaashi is all-too familiar with. 

sakusa kiyoomi ✶ reunited childhood sweethearts 

“try not to look so dour, sweetheart,” sakusa’s mother tells him as she fixes his tie. sakusa wants to grumble some choice words but he knows better than to complain to her. besides, he’s only partially paying attention, eyes darting about the crowd and back towards the venue’s entrance. 

he settles on adjusting his mask with a barely audible sigh and mumbles a quiet thanks as she flits to fuss over his older siblings. he glances again, disappointed as a different group of people waltzes in. he knows his older sister wouldn’t be so cruel as to lie to him that your family will be in attendance but the anxiety is making his antsy.

the two of you were inseparable as children with you being one of his only friends growing up.  you spent you days squirreled away in some nook reading or outside playing volleyball. your mothers always cooed that you two would get together one day, and as he got older and learned what that really meant, sakusa found himself hoping too. but then your parents took you and your siblings abroad, leaving him alone and heartbroken. he cut you off, hoping the distances and time would make your departure hurt less, but it didn’t.

sakusa doesn’t recognize the voice that calls his name but his head snaps towards the doorway. you’re standing in between your older sister and younger brother, waving at him. his heart skips a beat. your social media postings don’t do you enough justice; you’re even more attractive that the pixels he’s spent hours staring at. 

you still have that ever-present smile on your face and you quickly break-off from your family to bound over to him. without even thinking, his arms close around you as you embrace him tightly. you feel so familiar and he doesn’t want to let you go as you part. evidently, you don’t either as you keep him close still, only leaning away to look at him. “you’re so tall,” you laugh, more shyly you add, “and very handsome.”

this time, sakusa thinks his heart stops. 

[inhonoredglory]

Aziraphale’s Choice, the Job Connection, and Michael Sheen’s Morality

Update: Michael Sheen liked this post on Twitter, so I'm fairly certain there is a lot of validity to it.

I’ve had time to process Aziraphale’s choice at the end of Season 2. And I think only blaming the religious trauma misses something important in Aziraphale’s character. I think what happened was also Aziraphale’s own conscious choice––as a growth from his trauma, in fact. Hear me out.

Since November 2022 I’ve been haunted by something Michael Sheen said at the MCM London Comic Con. At the Q&A, someone asked him about which fantasy creature he enjoyed playing most and Michael (bless him, truly) veered on a tangent about angels and goodness and how, specifically,

We as a society tend to sort of undervalue goodness. It’s sort of seen as sort of somehow weak and a bit nimby and “oh it’s nice.” And I think to be good takes enormous reserves of courage and stamina. I mean, you have to look the dark in the face to be truly good and to be truly of the light…. The idea that goodness is somehow lesser and less interesting and not as kind of muscular and as passionate and as fierce as evil somehow and darkness, I think is nonsense. The idea of being able to portray an angel, a being of love. I love seeing the things people have put online about angels being ferocious creatures, and I love that. I think that’s a really good representation of what goodness can be, what it should be, I suppose.

I was looking forward to BAMF!Aziraphale all season long, and I think that’s what we got in the end. Remember Neil said that the Job minisode was important for Aziraphale’s story. Remember how Aziraphale sat on that rock and reconciled to himself that he MUST go to Hell, because he lied and thwarted the will of God. He believed that––truly, honestly, with the faith of a child, but the bravery of a soldier.

Aziraphale, a being of love with more goodness than all of Heaven combined, believed he needed to walk through the Gates of Hell because it was the Right Thing to do. (Like Job, he didn’t understand his sin but believed he needed to sacrifice his happiness to do the Right Thing.)

That’s why we saw Aziraphale as a soldier this season: the bookshop battle, the halo. But yes, the ending as well.

Because Aziraphale never wanted to go to Heaven, and he never wanted to go there without Crowley.

But it was Crowley who taught him that he could, even SHOULD, act when his moral heart told him something was wrong. While Crowley was willing to run away and let the world burn, it was Aziraphale (in that bandstand at the end of the world) who stood his ground and said No. We can make a difference. We can save everyone.

And Aziraphale knew he could not give up the ace up his sleeve (his position as an angel) to talk to God and make them see the truth in his heart.

I was messed up by Ineffable Bureaucracy (Boxfly) getting their happy ending when our Ineffable Husbands didn’t, but I see now that them running away served to prove something to Aziraphale. (And I am fully convinced that Gabriel and Beelzebub saw the example of the Ineffables at the Not-pocalypse and took inspiration from them for choosing to ditch their respective sides)

But my point is that Aziraphale saw them, and in some ways, they looked like him and Crowley. And he saw how Gabriel, the biggest bully in Heaven, was also like him in a way (a being capable of love) and also just a child when he wasn’t influenced by the poison of Heaven. Muriel, too, wasn’t a bad person. The Metatron also seemed to have grown more flexible with his morality (from Aziraphale's perspective). Like Earth, Heaven was shades of (light?) gray.

Aziraphale is too good an angel not to believe in hope. Or forgiveness (something he’s very good at it).

Aziraphale has been scarred by Heaven all his life. But with the cracks in Heaven’s armor (cracks he and Crowley helped create), Aziraphale is seeing something else. A chance to change them. They did terrible things to him, but he is better than them, and because of Crowley, he feels ready to face them.

(Will it work? Can Heaven change, institutionally? Probably not, but I can't blame Aziraphale for trying.)

At the cafe, the Metatron said something big was coming in the Great Plan. Aziraphale knows how trapped he had felt when he didn’t have God’s ear the first time something huge happened in the Big Plan. He can’t take a chance again to risk the world by not having a foot in the door of Heaven. That’s why we saw individual human deaths (or the threat of death) so much more this season: Elspeth, Wee Morag, Job’s children, the 1940s magician. Aziraphale almost killed a child when he couldn’t get through to God, and he’s not going through that again.

“We could make a difference.” We could save everyone.

Remember what Michael Sheen said about courage and doing good––and having to “look the dark in the face to be truly good.” That’s what happened when Aziraphale was willing to go to Hell for his actions. That’s what happened when he decided he had to go to Heaven, where he had been abused and belittled and made to feel small. He decided to willingly go into the Lion’s Den, to face his abusers and his anxiety, to make them better so that they would not try to destroy the world again.

Him, just one angel. He needed Crowley to be there with him, to help him be brave, to ask the questions that Heaven needed to hear, to tell them God was wrong. Crowley is the inspiration that drives Aziraphale’s change, Crowley is the engine that fuels Aziraphale’s courage.

But then Crowley tells him that going to Heaven is stupid. That they don’t need Heaven. And he’s right. Aziraphale knows he’s right.

Aziraphale doesn’t need Heaven; Heaven needs him. They just don’t know how much they need him, or how much humanity needs him there, too. (If everyone who ran for office was corrupt, how can the system change?)

Terry Pratchett (in the Discworld book, Small Gods) is scathing of God, organized religion, and the corrupt people religion empowers, but he is sympathetic to the individual who has real, pure faith and a good heart. In fact, the everyman protagonist of Small Gods is a better person than the god he serves, and in the end, he ends up changing the church to be better, more open-minded, and more humanist than god could ever do alone.

Aziraphale is willing to go to the darkest places to do the Right Thing, and Heaven is no exception. When Crowley says that Heaven is toxic, that’s exactly why Aziraphale knows he needs to go there. “You’re exactly is different from my exactly.”

____

In the aftermath of Trump's election in the US, Brexit happened in 2018. Michael Sheen felt compelled to figure out what was going on in his country after this shock. But he was living in Los Angeles with Sarah Silverman at the time, and she also wanted to become more politically active in the US.

Sheen: “I felt a responsibility to do something, but it [meant] coming back [to Britain] – which was difficult for us, because we were very important to each other. But we both acknowledge that each of us had to do what we needed to do.” In the end, they split up and Michael moved back to the UK.

Sometimes doing the Right Thing means sacrificing your own happiness. Sometimes it means going to Hell. Sometimes it means going to Heaven. Sometimes it means losing a relationship.

And that’s why what happened in the end was so difficult for Aziraphale. Because he loves Crowley desperately. He wants to be together. He wanted that kiss for thousands of years. He knows that taking command of Heaven means they would never again have to bow to the demands of a God they couldn’t understand, or run from a Hell who still came after them. They could change the rules of the game.

And he’s still going to do that. But it hurts him that he has to do that alone.