#not that my feelings are in any way the ones that matter here
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They Think I'm Pregnant - A.H
a/n: i feel like this is kind of shitty but alas here we are!
masterlist
pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader
summary: the team thinks you're pregnant and you decide to have a little fun with it
warnings: reader is not preggers promise!, honestly the team gossiping is so lol, suggestive content per usual
wc: 1.3k
"I mean she has been kind of moody lately."
The gasp that rose in your surprise was quickly smothered as you pressed yourself against the wall, pushing into it as if that would make you invisible somehow.
"Well, interestingly enough, there has been considerable growth in her chest area. It's due to elevated levels of estrogen and progesterone, which I've noticed with her." Spencer stopped abruptly, the sound of Morgan's muffled laughter in the background. "I'm not saying I make a habit of such observations. Okay, um, don't tell Hotch I said that."
Casting a skeptical eye down your shirt, your frown deepened. Sure, your boobs had grown, but that was a testament to a little happy relationship weight, not the fodder of their theories.
"Nice one, kid," came Rossi's voice, and you could almost see the smirk on his face.
"Oh my gosh, guys, this is like, the best news ever! A mini-agent in the making! Can you imagine how cute she's going to be? I'm going to get her the cutest outfits!"
"Garcia, how do you know it's going to be a girl? Did the baby send you a text?"
The baby? Was rational thought absent among them? It must be. You crossed your arms defensively.
"Okay, maybe we should pump the breaks everyone. Why do we even think she's pregnant in the first place?"
JJ—your voice of reason. You could kiss the ground she walked on.
"I'm just putting two and two together. She walked out, and there was a pregnancy test in the trash that wasn't there before."
Your eyebrows drew down, and the increasing shuffle from the room prompted you to make a beeline for Hotch's office before anyone saw you snooping. But in your defense, Emily snooped first.
The moment the door clicked shut, you lunged for the blinds, bypassing any attempt at a greeting with Aaron. The blinds clattered shut, so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash.
"Honey, what are you—?"
His words hung unfinished as you whirled around, pressing your pointer finger to your lips as if he were a kindergartner about to walk down the hall.
"They think I'm pregnant!" you hissed indignantly, jabbing a finger toward the door as if it were a portal to the rumor mill itself.
His face drained of color as his eyes darted from your face, down to your stomach, and finally rested on your tits. "Are you?"
You slapped his shoulder. "No!"
"Then why do they think that?"
You recounted every piece of evidence they had collected, giving special attention to Spencer's bodily hypothesis as a subtle form of retaliation.
"He said what?"
You laughed, draping your arms around his neck as you made yourself at home on his lap. He leaned back in his chair, arranging you so your legs were stretched out across his lap.
"Focus," you said desperately. "They think I'm pregnant."
"Sweetheart," he chuckled, his hands finding their way to your waist. "Does it really matter what they're assuming?"
Your lower lip jutted out, fingers threading through your hair as you mulled it over.
"You're a genius." Your arms were around him in an instant once again, leaving a big, messy kiss on his cheek as you hopped down from his lap and strode towards the door.
Who cares if that's what they think?
So, you devoted your day to your greatest talent: stirring the pot. If they were set on believing you were pregnant, why should you interfere? Better yet, why not enjoy their theories and have some fun along the way?
You pulled every trick in the book.
In the morning, you bolted from the briefing room with a hand clamped over your mouth, you later reappeared, ginger ale and crackers in tow--which you knew JJ would understand. No one said a word.
In the afternoon, you turned up your nose when Emily offered you coffee, which in turn caused her eyes to bulge out of her head, but still she said nothing.
In the evening, you staged a sudden craving for the strangest of snacks, convincing Spencer of your dire need for pickles dipped in peanut butter. You sent him on a wild goose chase for it, and he did it, no questions asked.
All of these, as some would say--childish antics, lead to a big pile of nothing because no one was brave enough to just ask you.
So now that you were all gathered around Rossi's living room, with the day's efforts in vain, you were forced to drastic measures.
The wine glass was mere inches from your lips when the whole lot of them were up in arms--a blabbering, spiraling mess.
Garcia, her mouth a perfect 'o' of scandalized red, was quick to wrestle it from your grasp, hoisting it just beyond reach as Morgan promptly confiscated it, placing it atop the tallest bookshelf, as if you were a child meddling with contraband.
"What are you thinking?"
"Are you crazy?"
"What are you doing?"
"Hotch, do you see this?"
Their words bombarded you all at once, a rapid-fire of overlapping sentences that was impossible to decipher. A giggle escaped you, hand instinctively rising to your lips. Sure, you had braced for a reaction, but this was beyond anything you had imagined.
You played dumb, your head canting to one side as your brows contracted. "What?"
You basked in Aaron's exasperated eye roll, his hands coming together as if in prayer while he let you revel in the moment. He was a good man.
"What do you mean what? I love you so much, but you have to be out of your mind," Garcia probed, her hands clutching on to her necklace as she looked side to side at the others.
You opened your mouth, ready to provoke her further, but Spencer beat you to it.
"Given the potential impact on blood volume and plasma osmolality, it's really not advised to drink alcohol, considering your condition," he said, fidgeting with his tie while nodding to your belly.
"What condition?"
"Oh, come on! We found your pregnancy test in the trash today!" This time it was Emily speaking, her hands on her hips as she gave you a knowing glance. She quickly muffled her exclamation. "Hold on, you've told Hotch, right? If not, I'm prepared to get on my hands and knees and beg for your forgiveness if necessary."
"You all are ridiculous!" you declared, rising from the couch and moving toward your abandoned wine. Aaron was quicker, offering the glass to you. "I'm not pregnant, and if you nosy nellies had bothered to ask rather than speculate, you'd know that.”
You took a large gulp of your wine. For emphasis. Your colleagues' mouth hung agape, all but Rossi, who smirked and toasted to the absurdity with his whiskey.
"You heard us?"
"Reid, let's just say, I'd appreciate if you would reserve those observational talents for the case files, not on my girlfriend's anatomy," Hotch suggested, the warmth of his hand seeping through the fabric at your back as he casually sipped his scotch.
You watched Reid's complexion turn a spectrum of pink hues, his apology barely above a whisper as laughter bubbled around us.
"Wait so then whose pregnancy test did I find?" Emily's words caused a collective breath to catch, glances shifting suspiciously around the room.
JJ's hand shot up, laughing as Garcia barreled into her side, arms wrapping around her before she could even get the admittance out. The room buzzed with congratulatory cheers, everyone sharing hugs and kisses as JJ told the story.
Aaron chose that instant to lift his hand to his neck, his lips meeting yours in a kiss so gentle it turned your insides to jelly. He eased back, his breath mingling with yours as he mumbled, "you know, the idea of you pregnant...it's not something I'm opposed to."
You let out a soft giggle, nestling your head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart bleeding into your ear. Your gaze drifted to your friends, toasting with raised glasses--minus JJ--with laughter and chatter filling the air.
"Is that so? Cravings, mood, boobs and all?"
You felt the rumble of his chuckle through his chest, the sensation tingling against your cheek. "All of it."
Rising onto your toes, you reached up to cradle his ear, lips grazing lightly against it. "How about we head home and practice? And then if you put a ring on it, I’ll consider it.”
That was the first time you had Irish goodbye-d a party.
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x fem reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotcher fic#criminal minds#criminal minds fluff
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The After Party pt.2
Part 1 Part 3
summary: You’re extremely confused about sukuna kissing you but your body craves him and maybe your heart too.
pairing: college sukuna x college fem reader
content MDNI: angst, pining, bestfriends brother, frenemies to lovers, loss of virginity, squirting, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, vaginal sex, overstimulation, praise kink, soft sukuna, fluff, aftercare, blood
It’s been a week since Sukuna made you cum with nothing but a kiss. You avoid him like the plague, unfortunately you have classes with Choso so you at least have to see him.
You’re so confused by your kiss with Sukuna that your hurt over Choso faded into the background. That one kiss crumbled years of pining after Choso.
You’re so frustrated and you have so many questions but you have to face the facts. Sukuna is a raging asshole, that’s been nothing but mean to you, and was sickeningly cruel to you at the party.
He’s said mean things that you’ve often let slide because he’s Sukuna but he kissed you and it changed the trajectory of everything.
You think about the disgustingly inappropriate comments he’s made and the fact that he’s fucked half the student body. This has to be a game for him, there’s no other explanation, and you refuse to play any part in it.
You’re hesitant to join Choso for lunch but he’s dragging you to the cafeteria. You simply grab some omurice and water before taking a seat at your usual table. You guys haven’t talked about the party or much at all, you don’t want but it’s obvious he does.
“What happened at the party with Sukuna, it’s like you two just kept ripping into eachother. He refuses to talk about it,” Choso says as you push your food around on your plate.
You feel angry at Sukuna and yourself, how could he be so selfish but how could you be so stupid.
“Nothing,” you mumble, before you finally take a bite of your food. Choso doesn’t believe you but he doesn’t push and you’re grateful for that.
You feel distant from him even though he’s rights here, why didn’t he tell you about Yuki? You’re suppose to be his bestfriend and yet he didn’t tell you something so big, but at the same time you don’t tell him that his brother made you cum with nothing but his mouth pressed to yours. You’re truly mortified by that, cringing as you relive the way your body trembled against his.
You’re not sure why but you ask Choso a question that’s been on your mind since you left the party. “Did Sukuna have sex with Kiko?.
His brows raise unsure of why it matters to you but he shrugs, “Probably,” he says, and you nod. You hate the feeling that takes over, like you’ve been used but you force it down.
The libraries quiet and probably the only thing you love about your school. You chew on the tip of your pen as you read over Bram Stokers Dracula, embarrassingly engrossed that you don’t notice when someone takes a seat across you.
Large tattooed hands appear in front of you, covering the pages and gripping the book till they’re closing it and sliding it away from you. Your heart thumps heavily in your chest and your cheeks burn as you look up.
Sukuna reads over the title before sliding it back to you and you hold your breath, waiting to hear what dreadful words will leave his mouth.
“You really gonna fucking ignore me?” He asks and you feel the urge to roll your eyes. If you’re delusional, well he’s just fucking insane.
“Ignore you? Sukuna, we’ve only hung out when Choso’s around, do you see him around?” you ask looking around the library for dramatic effect. You watch the way his jaw ticks, like you’re annoying him.
“You know what I’m talking about, want me to shout it across the library? The way you came against me and ran off?” He asks and your skin turns hot.
“That never happened!” You whisper yell and he leans back with a smug grin.
“The wet patch you left on my shirt says otherwise,” he says and your eyes widen, all you can do is pray that God smites you where you sit.
“Please stop. You got what you wanted, I don’t want to play into your games. This is drawing a line, torment me, make fun of me but please don’t use me,” you say genuinely and his brows furrow. You’re so stupid it’s cute.
“Is that what you think this is?” He asks and you sigh.
“You’ve done nothing but torment me, you’ve made fun of my body, my clothes, my looks, my intelligence, why would I think anything else?” You ask and his features soften for a fraction of a second.
“They’re jokes,” he says like that’s suppose to make it okay and you shake your head.
“You took things too far. Those ‘jokes’ speak volumes about what you think of me,” you answer and he leans forward.
“You don’t have a clue what I think of you,” he says and your fingers grip the edge of your chair. He’s growing agitated and it’s obvious at the amount of times his jaw ticks.
“I do. And let’s not forget how you manipulated me into going to that party, you told me Choso and Yuki were going to have sex but the whole time you knew they already had. You’re actually sick,” you say and he glares at you.
“You don’t have a clue what sick is, sick is watching you follow my brother around like a fucking puppy. Sick is making up excuses to third wheel with you two fucking imbeciles, sick is wanting someone you can’t have,” he says, his voice is rough and harsh.
Your insides burn as you take his words in, still not sure what he’s saying.
“I don’t understand,” you admit, and his hand grips the back of your head, pulling your lips to his. It’s sweet and gentle, the opposite of what he wants but he knows you’ll move to Russia if he makes you orgasm again in the library.
He pulls away, hand sliding to grip the side of your neck. His forehead presses against yours as you conclude what he’s trying to say. He likes you.
“Why,” you whisper, too scared to pull away and look him in the eyes. He doesn’t know what to say, he’s not use to this and he can’t force himself to tell you how he feels with words. He’s the most honest and blunt person you know but this has him stumped.
“We can’t,” you whisper. It’s Sukuna, Choso’s brother, the boy that chased you with worms, the boy that mixed slime in your hair, the boy that poured salt in your water.
“I know,” he says and it fills you with disappointment. You shouldn’t be disappointed, you don’t want this, you don’t want him.
“It’s gonna be Choso, it’s always gonna be him,”he says, his voice empty and wrong. Choso was the farthest thing from your mind since Sukuna kissed you. Your brain feels fried, trying to bring clarity to a head of jumbled thoughts.
You don’t owe Sukuna anything, not after all that he’s done but the thought of this being it, this being the end of any sense of normality for you two feels saddening. You two stay pressed together, your hair a curtain around you. You’re afraid that once you pull away, you’ll never see him again and if you do, it’ll never be the same.
“Kiko’s nice,” you say, and you feel his forehead wrinkle against yours.
“I don’t like her,” he says, his breath fanning your lips. You subtly inhale the aftertaste of cinnamon and spice with a hint of smoke.
“You had sex with her,” you say.
“I did,” he answers and you pull away. He slightly panics at your expression as you reach for your book.
“A long time ago, I didn’t touch her that night. I didn’t touch anyone,”he says, it shouldn’t matter to you but it does. He relaxes as you let go of your book, not making a move to leave.
He’s fucked up a lot of things up between you, he knows that but all he knows how to do is hurt and take. Choso said he was never the same after their mom died, so afraid to let anyone in.
When he realized all you saw was Choso, he didn’t know how to react but pick on you. When it became clear Choso didn’t want you but you kept trying, something in him turned to rage.
Seeing you cry sobered him up, he was never suppose to hurt you and somehow that got lost along the way. He grew comfortable with your banter, the only way he got a reaction from you, the only way he could get you to talk to him.
But he accepted a long time ago that you two would never be anything, until he saw you crying because of him. Every fiber of his being begged him to comfort you, so he did the only way he knows how, by taking.
He was greedy and when you kissed him back, maybe the idea of you wasn’t so unobtainable anymore.
He looks at you, the conflicting thoughts so clear on your face and he knows what he has to do. He’s not good enough for you, he doesn’t know if he ever will be. He can end this all for you, the hurt, the confusion and finally give you the peace you’ve always wanted.
“I don’t think we should be around eachother anymore,” he says and you inhale. You should be so grateful, to finally be free of him but this feels painful. Your heart feels like it’s breaking, worse than when you found out Choso slept with Yuki.
You blink back tears several time and shove your book into your bag. “Goodbye Sukuna,”.
You sob, violently into your mother’s lap as she threads her fingers through your hair. You tell her everything from your crush on Choso to Sukuna kissing you and deciding you two shouldn’t see eachother. You leave out the explicit details but it’s enough to paint the picture.
“He’s a sweet boy, just troubled,” your mother says, she’d always defended Sukuna, growing up when nobody else would. She always made sure he was included between you and Choso.
“Why am I not happy?” you ask, confused on why you’re sobbing.
“You like him, and it hurts” she whispers as hot tears roll down your cheeks. You had never cried over Choso like this, you’re literally hicupping as your sobs die down. Your face is red and puffy as you stare at the blank wall ahead of you.
“You know how he feels, you felt that over Choso. He’s hurting and he may never admit that but just because he says you can’t see eachother anymore, doesn’t mean it’s what he wants” she says and you think about those words.
You’re not even sure what you want, but you’d rather have him making fun of your outfits and the way you walk than to not have him at all. You’ve been so blinded by Choso that nothing else has ever mattered until now.
You like Sukuna, so fucking much and it hurts more than anything else. The sound of thunder and rain pouring, snaps you from your thoughts and you sit up like a light bulbs gone off.
You’re not sure what you’ll say, or if he’ll reject you but you have to fix this. You thank your mom before you’re running out of her room and down the stairs, you shove your feet into your tennis shoes and open the front door.
It’s pouring rain, but you don’t care. You close the door behind you and break off into a sprint, a few streets over to Sukunas house.
By the time you reach the door, you’re completely drenched from head to toe and shivering as your fist knocks on the door. Nobody comes and you sigh, ringing the doorbell several times until you hear the locks click.
Sukuna answers and your breathing hitches.
“Choso’s not here,” he says and you shake your head.
“I’m not here for him, I wanted to talk to you,” you say shaking. He wants to tell you no but you look on the verge of hypothermia, so he pulls you inside. You feel bad about the puddle that forms underneath you.
“You’re shaking,” he says and you nod, teeth chattering as he grabs your wrist and guides you upstairs. You stand awkwardly at the entrance of his room as he opens his dresser.
You stare at the paused video game on his desktop before he’s handing you a white shirt and a pair of boxers.
You enter his bathroom and change into them, rolling up the boxers till they disappear under the shirt, you dry your hair with his towel before you step out.
He’s sitting on the edge of his bed and you fiddle with your fingers as you walk toward him.
“I don’t want to stop talking to you, I don’t want to stop being around you. If that’s what you really want then I’ll have no choice but to accept it. You should know my thoughts though,” you say and he looks up at you with hesitancy but you continue.
“I like you, more than a friend. I don’t think I deserved the way that you treated me but despite it all, I like you. And the thought of not seeing you makes my heart hurt, I’m sorry I never saw you the way you wanted me to but I do now, just please don’t hurt me,” you say staring down at the carpet.
You feel hands grip your waist and he pulls you between his legs. You lean your forehead against his and close your eyes.
“You don’t deserve what I did, any of it and I’ll spend everyday making up for it. But I love you, and I’m sorry, for everything,” he says, the words feel strange on his tongue but it’s the truth.
“You love me?” you ask and he nods against you.
“Since middle school,” he says and you actually start crying, you know that pain and you hate that you put him through it. You straddle his lap and slide your arms underneath his till they’re hugging him.
His body engulfs yours and you slump against him, soaking up the warmth that radiates from him. His hands slip up under his your shirt and rub against your icy skin, leaving trails of heat with his touch.
“You’re freezing, baby” he says, the pet name shooting straight to your core as you try to bury yourself closer to him.
You look up at his lips, so soft and plump. Your fingers graze them and he pretends to bite you, making you giggle until he leans down and kisses you. It’s sweet but you want more, you nip at his bottom lip and his mouth opens.
Your tongue grazes the roof of his mouth, teasingly before it licks at his. He’s licking around your lips, your teeth and then he sucks on your tongue which drives you crazy. You both feel your nipples harden and you feel the bulge beneath you, pressing up into you.
You gasp when his hands squeeze your hips tighter and pushes you down against it. The pressure has you grinding against him, it feels so good, too good.
You cry when his hands slide into your shorts and squeeze your ass, his touch is bruising and rough but it turns you on. You feel your arousal dripping through your shorts, desperate for release until he stills your movements and you whine.
“What do you want?” He asks, breathing heavily. You’re too shy to speak so instead you fingers reach for the hem of your shirt and lift it over your head. You grab one of his hands and shove his index and middle finger into your mouth, you lick at the digits and suck on them.
“Fuck…” he groans as you pull them out and rub them over your nipple, you bite your lip and make the cutest face at how good it feels. He’s pulling his fingers away and his mouth latches on instead, you moan, fingers digging into his scalp as he sucks your tit and his tongue licks around your nipple, tugging it with his teeth before biting down on it and he does the same to the other one.
“So fucking sexy,” he breathes licking all around your tits till your chest is covered in saliva. You grind against him, seeking any sort of relief from the ache in your pussy but nothing works until he’s lifting you off of him laying you on your back.
“You sure you want to do this?” He asks and you nod desperately. You need him inside of you, you need to relieve this ache.
His fingers skim the band of your shorts before tugging them down, you squeeze your legs together. You’re completely naked now and are scared of what he’ll think. Your legs shake as his hands rest on your thighs before spreading them open.
“So fucking pretty,” he breathes looking at your pussy, soaked and swollen from need.
“Please,” you beg, and he presses a kiss to your belly only making you ache more. He’s so gentle, it’s unlike him but he loves you and he knows this is your first time. You squeeze your belly when you feel a finger glide up your cunt, and your legs instinctively go to close but his hands immediately press down on them.
“Sorry,” you squeak and he chuckles, it’s not arrogant or malicious, it’s a whole hearted laugh that makes you smile.
“It’s okay baby, just relax. I gotta stretch you out, so you can take me,” he says so casually but the words feel so filthy as they reach your ears. His fingers graze your clit and slowly start flicking it making you press your hips further into the matresss, his thumb swipes over it before you feel something prodding at your hole and you gasp when it pushes inside of you.
He watches your pussy swallow his finger, clenching around it as you try to relax. It’s feels so good, really good and he curls it making you sit up on your elbows. You watch him insert a second finger and your mouth forms into an O. You buck your hips against his hand, riding his fingers and his thumb rubs circles into your clit.
“Feels so good,” you cry out feeling his lips kiss each of your inner thighs. Your eyes open and watch his fingers fuck into you. You can hear the squelching your pussy makes around them and it becomes too much.
Your stomach tightens and you clench around him, feeling yourself cum. Your eyes widen when he starts slamming his fingers into you, fucking into you with brute force.
“Too much, too much, I can’t I can’t,” you cry as your body spasms around him, eyes rolling back.
“You can baby, one more,” he says and you break, your pussy sprays all over him and the bed. You feel mortified as he stares at your pussy, retracting his fingers.
“Need you to do that around my cock,” he says, and your cheeks redden watching him bring his fingers to his mouth and lick at them.
Your eyes close at the sight before they open to see him lifting his shirt off. His body is so muscular and sexy, your finger itch to feel the muscle. You bite your lip, you’re really about to have sex with him.
He pushes his sweatpants and boxers down in one motion and you feel scared when his cock slaps against his stomach, thick, long and so swollen. Angry veins protrude around it as he smears precum over the tip.
He looks to you and starts pumping it in his hand. He wants to fuck you till you can’t walk, till the only person on your mind is him and the only name you can speak is his but this is about you.
Your pussy clenches as he kneels onto the bed, crawling to you and his fingers graze your lips, smearing precum on them and you lick them. You can’t begin to imagine how many times he’s dreamed of this, dreamed of being inside you.
Your arms wrap around his neck, whimpering when you feel him slap his cock against your cunt, he nudges the tip against your clit, rubbing them against eachother. The feeling is so erotic and you buck against him. Your hands squeeze together when you feel him nudging his tip inside of you.
“Need you to be a good girl and relax,” he says and you nod, loosening your muscles and your hold around his neck. You’re scared but you know he won’t hurt you, not intentionally, not anymore.
He slowly pushes into you, the stretch burns and you cry. It feels like he’s splitting you open.
“Shhh, it’s okay baby, it’s okay,” he says pressing a kiss to your cheeks, before his mouth is on yours and his thumb rubs against your clit to ease and distract you as he keeps pushing into you.
You squeeze around him, loving the way his tongue fucks yours. He pushes past the tight ring of muscle and you squeeze your thighs around him, his hands gripping your hips as he bottoms out.
Full. You feel so fucking full.
He slowly pulls out and looks down to the creamy red ring around his cock and pushes back in. His hips roll against yours earning several moans from you. Your hands slide up his arms until they’re clutching his biceps.
His movements are slow but he’s fucking deep into you, you feel his cock kiss your cervix with each thrust. You look at him with big doe and watery eyes, lips swollen and parted. His hips move harder against yours and your eyes water more at the sensation.
“Harder,” you beg and feel him pull out leaving you empty until he slams into you and your back arches, clutching to him tightly.
“So fucking tight,” he groans bucking into you. Your crying turns into full on sobs as he fucks into you, the room fills with the sounds of your wet pussy swallowing the fuck out of him.
“You’re mine now, nobody else’s,” he says rutting into you, all you can do is nod through your sobs. “Such a good fucking girl,” he breathes against your lips, feeling your tits bounce against him with each thrust.
“My” thrust. “Fucking” thrust. “Girl” thrust.
“Yours,” you cry out and his tongue swipes your lips.
“I need this pretty pussy to squirt on my cock, you think you can do that baby?” He asks feeling you shake against him and you nod. He moans as you clench around him and he beats into your cervix, the sound of your skin slapping against his has you tightening until you can’t take it anymore and you start gushing around him. You spray his cock and his stomach, dripping down the bed.
His eyes are focused on his cock fucking into you, the way your pussy swallows him like you can’t let go and he forces more from you. Watching the way you keep squirting and your body spasms around him, arms tightening around his neck.
“I gotta cum inside you,” he says, you’re too cock drunk to register his words.
“Please” you beg as he pounds into you, you cry, arms circling around him bouncing off his cock. Liquid just gushing from you endlessly, so overstimulated you keep orgasming around him.
He grunts with one final thrust and you feel something hot and thick shoot up into you, it doesn’t stop, his cock twitches inside of you, filling you to the brim with thick ropes of cum.
You sag against him until he finally pulls out of you, you feel empty as he lifts you off the bed and carries you to his bathroom. He sets you down to pee while he changes the sheets.
Your pussy burns from being split open but you feel so content when he comes back. He wets a rag and wipes your blood and your mixed cum from his dick. You feel so tired once you’re done, he lifts you up and you wrap your arms around his neck your head resting against his shoulder , legs clinging around his waist. He pushes your hair out of your face and kisses your nose.
“You did so good baby,” he whispers, which earns him a tired smile as he walks you to his bed. He lays down with you still wrapped around him, lying atop his chest.
You feel his fingers trace circles into your naked hip as he kisses the top of your head.
“I love you,” he says as you close your eyes.
pt 1. pt.3
this has been so fun to write, I hope this is good. Thank you all for your support and kind words! Y’all this got flagged, I about cried…
@whosmarjj @getoxmahito @officialholyagua @adollsdarkdiary @jazzyysstuff @denenene @xra1 @bbyxxm @aqxllo @allofffmypeaches @evelynxx8 @deepenthevoid @aerithsthingss
#toji fushiguro#sukuna smut#sukuna au#sukuna jjk#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x reader#jjk smut#jjk#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen#choso smut#choso x reader#sukuna#choso kamo#gojo satoru#gojo smut#toji smut#geto suguru#nanami kento#smut#frenemies#sukuna fluff#fluff#fanfic#salemgojo
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Craving a postprison!Spencer x stripper!reader fic, please ma’am.
Maybe she gets a daytime job at a coffee shop or a bookstore - to “supplement her income”/ not have to dance as often (not that she’s ashamed!!) and Spencer is just so proud of her for trying and can’t quit kissing her and praising her because I know in other fics you’ve mentioned she didn’t think anyone would hire her because of her profession/self esteem, plus after prison she didn’t want to dance because she wanted to be with Spencer. 🥺
Or really just anything with a proud Spencer x stripper!reader doing anything.
Your work is fantastic and I’m in love with everything you do!! 💕 thank you and it’s totally okay if you think this request is lame or don’t wanna write it!
thank you angel! —you find a new job while making decisions about your old one after Spencer returns from prison, and Spencer would praise you for breathing, so he’s extremely proud. fem, 1.8k
Statistics differ, but estimates suggest that there are around twenty thousand strippers in Las Vegas. With a population of seven hundred thousand people (estimated up), that means that one in thirty five people living in Las Vegas dances for a living.
It’s more than you’d think. Spencer knew of plenty of women who worked as strippers, exotic dancers, or private entertainers when he was still living at home. And while the numbers are much smaller in Washington DC where he lives now, it’s far from zero. More surprising for the average person to be one, perhaps, but not for Spencer.
It used to make him blush like a steam train, sure, but it never did any of the things you were scared of. He’s never looked down on you for it, never been jealous (well, never acted like a jerk because of it), never positioned it as anything other than work. His only complaints are in your concern. You don’t like the club, most of the time. You feel unsafe often. The risk of femicide is yards higher for you as a sex worker than it would be otherwise, but who is Spencer to talk about danger? He still has stitches in his leg.
Your job used to feel more urgent, a red flashing light above your head, because you’d come around with bruises or cut knees, tear stained cheeks, and you couldn’t make ends meet for all your efforts, but things have changed. You’re reluctant to depend on him, but you’ll accept the help when you need it. Nothing keeps you there if you don’t want to be there, and when you do you’re a marvel. You are beautiful, in Spencer’s eyes. Your dancing when you’re having a good night is one of the prettiest things he’s ever seen —more than pretty, sometimes. A hot coal in his stomach.
But the fact of the matter is that Spencer’s home, and you don’t want to dance. You haven’t been to the club for weeks as far as he’s aware, and he’d consider himself well informed. You spent all your savings and started spending his instead and he couldn’t care less, what’s his is yours, whatever keeps you aloft while you make whatever decision it is you’re working toward. Not that it presented itself that way.
I’ll have to go back.
Spencer on his back, you sitting with your head turned from the TV and toward him, your hand on his hip, just resting. Where?
To work. I have enough money for the next two weeks, and then I’m all out.
Spencer wouldn’t do something as unkind as rolling his eyes, but the point of you moving in was to cement that he’d look after you no matter what. He’d turned his head to you on his pillow and reached for your elbow. You’re still resting.
You’ve been home for two months, Spencer. I’ve rested enough. I… I only managed this long because you haven’t asked me for anything and that’s not fair, we both live here.
I earn more than you, so I pay more, he’d said, confused. It’s not as though it hurt him to continue paying for an apartment he’s been living in for years.
I won’t be your leech.
You’re not my leech, don’t say that.
I can’t just not have money.
Well… he’d said. He’d never discussed it with you so openly before, always stopped at the first suggestion, but there’s a first time for everything. You know you can have whatever you want from me. Anything you want, you don’t have to ask.
Spencer… you’re my boyfriend.
Exactly.
No, you’re my boyfriend. You don’t have to keep me. I don’t want that.
He understood the ‘want’ most heavily. What do you want, angel? he’d asked, dragging your hand up his naked chest to rest over his diaphragm, your arm moving up and down in time with his breathing.
You’d seemed stricken, but not upset. Like the question surprised you in having no answer. Not sure… you’d said eventually. Mostly you.
A week passed, two. A third and you’d asked him to borrow money, just for a little while, and with the vehement promise you’d pay him back.
He’s not expecting it. So soon, either. But here you are standing in front of him with a beaming smile and little book in your hands, unzipping one of the book's inner pockets to count out the money you’d ’borrowed’. “Here you go, my angel, there’s everything.”
Spencer just looks at it. “What is it?”
“The money I owe you.”
He presses his hands to his stomach to stop you from forcing the notes into them. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“No, seriously, please take it.”
He shakes his head. “Seriously. I don’t want anything from you, I love you. That money was for you to do what you wanted, or needed. It was yours as soon as I gave it to you.”
You try regardless to put it in his hands. Your hair was done freshly a week ago, your nails manicured but unpainted, your face adorned with some new makeup he’d seen on his (your) vanity a few days ago. It honestly hadn’t crossed his mind why you’d suddenly given yourself a refresh, and he had no suspicions. You would’ve told him if you went to the club, even just via text, because it’s important he knows you’ve had access to your phone or that you’re coming home. (Plus, he’d notice you leaving at night. You’ve spent the last few evenings laying across his lap.)
“Where did you get this?” he asks, smiling softly, wondering if he’s come to the right conclusion.
You drop the money on his thigh and take a couple of steps back.
“I,” you say, holding your little book to your stomach, “got a job as a barista. They gave me my first paycheck today, a direct deposit. So I took out what I owe you and the rest of it is in here.”
“You what?” he asks.
“I’m working at the coffeehouse by the library,” you say, nodding, parts proud of yourself and parts shy.
“For how long? Why didn’t you tell me?”
You bite your lip. “Just this week. And honestly, I didn’t want you to know if I couldn’t do it.”
Spencer stands up but doesn’t cross the room to you. He could reach out and catch your hand. “How could you work somewhere new all week without me noticing?”
“You weren’t here on Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday morning, and they gave me Thursday off, so I just told you a very small lie this morning about going to the store. I knew you’d get distracted by your Persian poetry again.”
He did get distracted, very much so. You’ve been and worked a whole shift without his worrying, which is a bit awful in itself (he really does love you, and he’d like to know where you are), but is also, frankly, a great thing. You should be able to work without worry. You should do anything you want to do.
Still, a whole week at a brand new job without any support, and to stand there with your paycheck as unmistakable waves of satisfaction melt off of you unkissed is insanity. Spencer’s laughing as he ushers you into his arms, as he hugs your shoulders tightly, “Oh my god!” he says, “Wow, congratulations!” He pulls back just a touch to see your face. “Please don’t lie to me about where you’re going, that’s so dangerous. I love you!”
He takes your face into both hands with your arms hanging loosely behind his back and begins a reckoning of kisses. The slope of your cheek, the skin between your nose and lips, Spencer couldn’t care less where the kisses land, he just wants them all over you. You laugh softly as he goes, almost stickily, a sound that comes deep from your chest. “I’m so proud of you,” he says, pressing a quick, mildly rougher kiss to the corner of your mouth.
“I might still strip,” you say.
“Whatever you want,” he says, squeezing your face between his palms. “What’s it like? Do you like it? Is it hard?” He kisses you again. “I wish you’d told me,” he says against your lips.
You’re quieter than he expected, and warm. He pulls away more sternly to see what’s gone wrong. He could’ve asked the wrong questions. Maybe he’s embarrassed you.
“I just wanted to make sure I could do it. I didn’t want to fail and… and have you know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, I get it.” God knows he’s failed a hundred times for you to see it. He wishes he would have hidden a lot of that from you, spared you some heartache, but he also knows how lucky he is to have you near. “That’s what we’re supposed to do, right? We should be together when stuff goes wrong.” He beams. “But it didn’t go wrong.”
“I think I’m pretty good at it.”
“Yeah?”
You hold his wrist. “And I get tips, did you know that? Not as many as before,” —you laugh to yourself loudly— “but still. It’s really cool. They pay me even if nobody wants coffee, and when people want coffee I get extra.”
Spencer kisses the corner of your eye. He kisses up to your eyebrow and down again, all over your cheek before turning your face to the other side to kiss circles into the other. “I,” —kiss— “can’t,” —kiss— “believe it.” Kiss. “Actually, I can, but I still can’t.”
“It’s just a part time job.”
“That you didn’t think you could do,” he says. “But you can do anything, I knew you could. I’m amazed by you.”
He grins and throws his arms over your shoulders.
You squeeze him right back, the two of you swaying, almost falling over. He can feel how proud you are of yourself. You deserve to feel this way no matter what.
“I like dancing,” you say, “I do, I just wish I could do it in a different… world? Is that stupid?”
“No. You’re never stupid.” He smiles as your hand weaves into his hair, fingertips scratching along his scalp, his curls caught between your fingers.
“Do you think you could come on Monday? I can make you a cup of coffee. It’s not as hard as it looks.”
“Please, I’d love for you to make me a cup of coffee.” His smile presses to your shoulder, where he breathes you in briefly, before remembering something very important. “Hey, do you wear an apron?”
“Of course I do.”
Oh my god, he thinks. There are more than half a million baristas in the United States, and Spencer will bet his monthly paycheck that you’re the cutest one to ever exist. You look cute right now in your jeans and your button up shirt, but put an apron on top of that? To see you standing behind a bar mixing drinks and pouring latte art? Monday can’t come quick enough.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction
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Hiii could u write about reader who just gave birth just a couple of weeks before but manages to attend her partner's (max verstappen) next race. obviously, since your baby is very small in the middle of the race, you need to breastfeed him and some “old-fashioned” journalists criticize that you have done it without hiding, which Max takes advantage of to defend yourself, which could be at a press conference or on social networks. If you're not comfortable writing about this I understand 🩷🩷🩷
a/n: Hi sweetheart! thank you for your request, I hope i've done this justice for you!
Max Verstappen x reader
The roar of the engines, the smell of burning rubber, and the electrifying energy of the race track were all too familiar to you. But today, everything felt different. Just a couple of weeks ago, you had given birth to your beautiful baby boy, and now you were here at the Grand Prix, determined to support your partner, Max Verstappen, as he raced towards another victory.
As you settled into your seat in the paddock, cradling your newborn in your arms, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of sleepless nights, diaper changes, and endless feedings, but you wouldn't have it any other way. You were a family now, and that was all that mattered.
Max had been over the moon when he found out you were coming to the race. He knew how much effort it took for you to be here, and he appreciated every bit of it. As the race started, you could see the determination in his eyes, and you knew he was going to give it his all, not just for himself, but for you and your little one as well.
The race was intense, and you watched with bated breath as Max navigated through the twists and turns of the track. Your baby boy, snuggled against your chest in a sling, slept soundly, oblivious to the excitement around him. But as the race progressed, he began to stir, and you knew it was time for his feeding.
Without a second thought, you adjusted your position and began to breastfeed your baby, right there in the paddock, none of the Red Bull employees batting an eyelid. It was a natural and beautiful moment, a testament to the bond between a mother and her child. You were focused on providing for your baby, completely unaware of the critical eyes that were watching and the camera's that were around, they couldn't see anything too revealing, of course, but you could feel the judgment anyway.
Later, after Max had crossed the finish line in a stunning first place, the media buzzed with excitement. But amidst the celebration, a few "old-fashioned" journalists had taken note of your public breastfeeding and had begun to criticize you for not hiding away.
As you made your way to the team area, you could feel the stares and hear the whispers. Some reporters even approached you, their questions laced with judgment. You held your head high, refusing to let their words affect you. You knew you had done nothing wrong.
Max, who had been busy celebrating his victory, soon caught wind of the situation. He could see the distress on your face and the way some journalists were hounding you. Without a moment's hesitation, he made his way over to you, wrapping his arm protectively around your shoulders.
As you made your way to the post-race celebrations, a few journalists approached you. Most were congratulatory, but there were a couple of old-fashioned reporters who couldn't hide their disapproval. One in particular, a stern-looking man with graying hair, addressed you directly.
"Mrs. Verstappen, don't you think it was inappropriate to breastfeed in public, especially in a place like this?" he asked, his tone dripping with judgment.
You were taken aback, not expecting such a question. Before you could respond, Max stepped in, his protective instincts kicking in.
"Excuse me," Max said, his voice firm. "There's nothing inappropriate about a mother feeding her child. My partner is here supporting me, just like any other family member would. Breastfeeding is a natural and beautiful thing, and there's no reason she should have to hide it."
The journalist looked taken aback by Max's passionate response. "But don't you think it could be a distraction?" he pressed.
Max shook his head, his eyes blazing with determination. "The only distraction here is outdated thinking like yours. My partner and our baby are my biggest support. If you have a problem with that, then that's your issue, not ours."
The other journalists nodded in agreement, some even clapping in support of Max's words. The critical reporter retreated, realising he had lost this battle.
Max turned back to you, his eyes softening. "Are you okay?" he asked gently.
You nodded, feeling grateful for his unwavering support. "Thank you, Max. I didn't expect that."
He smiled and kissed your forehead. "You don't have to thank me. We're a team, remember? Now let's go celebrate properly."
As you joined the rest of the team in the VIP area, the atmosphere was electric. The celebrations were in full swing, with laughter, cheers, and clinking glasses all around. You felt a sense of belonging and happiness that you hadn't felt in a long time.
Max took every opportunity to introduce you and your baby to everyone, proudly showing off his little family. The team members cooed over your baby, their faces lighting up with joy.
As the evening progressed, Max was called for the post-race press conference. He took your hand and led you to the front row, making sure you had the best seat in the house. You settled into your seat, your baby resting peacefully in your arms.
The press conference started, and the reporters bombarded Max with questions about his race, his strategy, and his thoughts on the season ahead. But inevitably, the topic shifted to his family.
"Max, congratulations on your win! We noticed your partner and baby in the paddock today. How important is their support to you?" one reporter asked.
Max's face lit up with pride as he glanced at you. "Their support means everything to me," he said. "Having them here today gave me the motivation and strength I needed to push through. My partner has been incredible, balancing motherhood and supporting me. I'm truly blessed."
Another reporter chimed in, "There were some comments about the appropriateness of breastfeeding in the paddock. What's your take on that?"
Max's expression grew serious. "I think it's sad that in 2024, we still have to defend a mother's right to breastfeed her child wherever she needs to. Breastfeeding is a natural, necessary, and beautiful act. My partner shouldn't have to hide or feel ashamed for taking care of our baby. I'm proud of her, and I support her 100% and I know the rest of the team do as well, if they're not distracted by it, why should anyone else be?"
The room filled with applause, the media clearly moved by Max's heartfelt words. You felt a swell of pride and gratitude for your partner, who was using his platform to stand up for you and other mothers.
After the press conference, Max returned to your side, wrapping his arm around you and kissing your baby on the head. "Let's get out of here," he whispered, his eyes twinkling with love. "I want to spend some time with my family."
You smiled and nodded, feeling an overwhelming sense of contentment. The three of you made your way out of the media area and back to the quieter parts of the paddock, sitting down in one of the areas that allowed you to be away from the hustle and bustle of the reporters.
As you sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, you felt a deep sense of gratitude for the love and support that surrounded you. You were a family, and that was the greatest victory of all.
#formula one imagine#f1 imagine#formula 1#formula one x reader#max verstappen#f1 x reader#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen imagine#f1 fanfic
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i like your voice in person
Evan's staring at the bed like he's trying to navigate a minefield.
Six months ago that would have sent Tommy on another journey of self-deprecation, a reminder that he'd known Evan wasn't ready for this, known this was a possibility, but Evan, for all his own insecurities, knows what the hell he wants and if he'd felt even an ounce of pressure or remorse up to this point he'd have said something long before now.
Sometimes Evan likes to work it out himself, and sometimes he needs a little nudge, and Tommy watches the head tilt and the angle of his pursed lips for cues as he settles under the sheets.
"Something on your mind?" he prompts, and Evan blinks, like he hadn't realized he'd gotten lost in his thoughts.
"Uh...nothing, maybe."
"Sounds like something, probably."
Evan's smile tilts up at one corner, and he settles on the bed a little stiffly. "It's nothing major. Just. Something I've been thinking about?"
He can feel his brows jumping, can see the way Evan takes in the look with a fond expression. Evan steels himself for something -- they're still muddling through past experiences and learning how to be a bit more intentional in some of their conversations, because they both have a bad habit of reverting to flirting and deflection.
"You remember what we talked about last weekend?"
Tommy can genuinely remember about 93 percent of what he and Evan talk about at any given time, which is an astronomically high number and not at all an exaggeration. He'd be embarrassed about it if he didn't have clear evidence that Evan was as deep into this as he was.
They talk a lot, is the thing, about inconsequential shit just as much (definitely more) than the important stuff. They talk far more than Tommy can remember talking in any other relationship he's been in. But Tommy can pinpoint the exact one he means.
"You mean the roles thing."
Evan hadn't been a stranger to a little daddy talk in bed when they started to explore it, and he'd brought it up right at the start for a reason, but Tommy had taken a while to come around to the realization that Evan had sort of internalized the 'I don't have daddy issues' of it all in a way that Tommy hadn't actually meant it. There'd been little things, here and there; like Evan reaching a door before him and then bashfully waiting with it half open like he'd made a misstep; like twisting his mouth a little funny when he snatched the bill from the table before Tommy could get it. Little things.
Things that, in the abstract, yeah, Tommy liked to do for his partners, but in reality weren't actually that big a deal to him.
He'd needed to clear the air.
Evan nods. Curls a hand around his knee before he shifts his body so that he's facing Tommy. "So, I like taking care of people."
(A conversation, a month ago, Evan grimacing around "My therapist says I have to stop calling myself a people pleaser in a derogatory way.")
Tommy hums, something to remind Evan he's listening.
"And I guess I sort of built up this idea in my head that that was like, a hard stop with you."
("Everyone likes being taken care of sometimes, Evan.")
"And I'm not -- I'm not upset at you, or like, feeling guilty, I just -- I've been thinking about it, and I feel like I forgot to ask you how you wanted to be taken care of."
The thing with Evan is that no matter how often he'll deflect with a joke, when he wants to say something serious he's blunt as hell about it. There might be some hemming and hawing to get there but sometimes he says things that just make Tommy wonder if he'd ever actually learned how to say things before Evan.
"I don't really have a list, babe," he says, and then sort of hates himself for it. Deflect, distract, hey baby how about I blow you about all these big feelings inside my chest I can't articulate.
Evan, though, Evan squinches his eyes and runs a heavy hand through his hair. "I...sort of do?"
"Lay it on me."
Evan grins. "That's actually one of the things on my list."
Tommy blinks. Tries to figure out that trail of thought, but he's coming up with nothing. "Okay, can you expand on that?"
"Like --listen, you know I'm a huge fan of being the little spoon. I'd let someone put screws back in my leg just for continued little spoon privileges. But sometimes I miss being the big spoon, and in my head the idea sounded so stupid to bring up but now I'm wondering if, like, maybe I've just been denying you the joy of being the little spoon?"
Tommy thinks of Evan's hands spread big and warm across his belly, of knees tucked up behind his, warm breath on the back of his neck like when Evan stumbles up behind him in the mornings whining about coffee, and maybe he blue screens a bit because he's never actually dated someone so close to his own size, because there's always been an assumption at the outset that he wouldn't want that.
Alex had been a little too into the same dynamic he'd seen Evan stumbling through, and Colin had hated sleeping with someone's flesh touching his own. Beyond that he hadn't really dated anyone long enough to really form a preference.
Maybe Kara might have been willing, back when he'd been closeted enough to pretend it wasn't an effort to get it up when she had his dick in her mouth, but they'd been young enough that staying the night wasn't really a consideration.
"And like -- listen, I don't necessarily prescribe to gender roles as a thing in general, but a few weekends ago I spent like twenty minutes staring at a bouquet of flowers in Trader Joe's and convinced myself you wouldn't like the gesture so I didn't buy them but you have a few vases in your moms old china cabinet and the moment I remembered them I felt stupid for not buying the flowers."
There's something curling tenderly underneath Tommy's ribcage that he's not sure he's ever felt quite like this before. It's not new, exactly, but it seems to be thrumming particularly hard tonight.
Three months in, Tommy had gotten the man-flu from hell, temperatures so high he'd been grounded and sent packing to rest it off, and he'd texted Evan a jumbled mess of barely discernible things when they'd tucked him into the Uber.
Evan and Bobby had made chicken noodle soup at the station and Hen had sent Evan off with a laundry list of things he could do to help drop the fever, and Tommy had spent the duration sulking and glowering and dragging himself out of bed every time Evan had wanted to change the sheets, to keep Tommy as comfortable as he could, but when Evan had caught it four days later he hadn't hesitated to do all the same shit with gusto. Evan hadn't been particularly grateful either, because neither one of them liked being laid up when the world was out there waiting for them, but he'd at least had the grace to not be an asshole about it.
He had, though. Been grateful. A little awestruck, too, at the mere idea of someone so unafraid of just being there through all the moaning and groaning and hacking and coughing, keeping the tissues from piling up on the bedside table and switching out cold packs to the freezer so he always had one ready in case he wanted it. In the clarity of a full day without fever making his brain feel like cotton candy he'd stared down at a sleepily wheezing Evan and known he could absolutely lose his heart to this man.
"Also I don't want to toot my own horn here but I give excellent foot rubs, and I feel like there's about a million other things I've just been -- holding back from doing?"
"Because of the role thing, or because all your stupid exes told you you were needy?"
It's not a night to pull punches. Also Tommy wants to send thank you cards to every single one of them and attach them to boxes with a bark scorpion inside.
"Both," Evan says without a second of hesitation. His smile crinkles at the corners of his mouth, and Tommy is suddenly annoyed with the space between them. When he holds out his hand to tug Evan into him, Evan melts into it for the space of a moment before he pulls back. "I actually kind of desperately want to be the big spoon right now, if that's something you'd be into." Evan had definitely clocked the look on his face when he'd mentioned it, but he's keyed into the way Tommy checks in and reciprocated in kind since the start of this, so.
Tommy peels his glasses off, snags his bookmark to keep his spot in the monstrosity of the Wrangler maintenance manual he'd stopped being cagey about the fifth time Evan caught him flipping through it, and watches Evan settle comfortably into bed next to him. The problem is, Tommy actually isn't sure where to go from there, which is a ridiculous thought to have because Evan hadn't either and he'd figured it out just fine.
"How do you want me, Buckley?"
The roll of his eyes is so bitchy that Tommy has to remind himself that for all his people pleasing attributes, Evan Buckley is, at heart, a huge fucking brat. Evan tugs and twists and maneuvers his arms and Tommy sort of sinks into it, head tucked in the crook of his shoulder, draping his leg over one of Evan's when he shifts his knee pointedly, a massive, unruly breath escaping Tommy once they're all done shifting.
"You should absolutely try out the rest of your list," he murmurs into the space where Evan's shoulder meets his neck. "Although you don't need to woo me anymore, I'm actually fully wooed."
Lips against his crown, pressed tightly enough that he can feel the smile against his scalp, Evan chuckles. "You don't know how good my wooing is."
The fingers shifting up and down his arm feel somehow different, from this position, even though Evan has done it a hundred times before from the spot he likes to claim with his head right over Tommy's bleeding, three-sizes-too-big-for-him heart. It's ridiculous, and it shouldn't feel any different, but it does. He wants to be greedy with it, soak it in and then never let Evan do this again because he finally understands the appeal and he doesn't want to deprive Evan that.
"This is nicer than I expected."
Evan's soft laugh ruffles his hair, and Tommy wonders if he's dumb enough to ask Eddie how long he should wait before he can reasonably beg Evan to spend the rest of his life with him.
"Save the reviews for when I actually spoon you. It's gonna rock your world." His hand drifts up, fingers digging into the dimple of Tommy's skull.
The hum in his throat has a mind of it's own, going thin and reedy and --
Evan pauses, and Tommy can practically see the gears whirring in his mind, because this is new information.
To both of them, actually, but Tommy doesn't have time to process it because the fingers on the back of his skull spread and sink deeper, just enough pressure to be more than a glancing ruffle, and Tommy can't quite help the way he tilts his head back into it, or the way he hitches his leg to press his groin a little more firmly to the outside of Evan's thigh.
They're both too tired for it to really mean anything -- both off 48's and a fumbled round in the shower while they were already bone weary -- but Tommy wants the reminder for them both when they wake up in the morning.
He can feel his eyes drooping the longer Evan scrubs his fingers against him, and the thought pops into his head as he's drifting off. He doesn't want it to disappear into the fog, though, so he murmurs it into the soft, warm skin of Evan's neck. "I like camellia's. White ones."
Evan hums, and Tommy just knows that the moment he drops off, Evan will be reaching for his phone to google the language of flowers.
#bucktommy#buck x tommy#bucktommy fic#911 fic#tevan fic#as if shoehorning sportsball into a fic wasn't enough now i've gone and added the language of flowers back into the lexicon#white camellia means 'you're adorable'#but once buck actually finds what he's looking for he ends up ordering a ridiculous bouquet of red camellia baby's breath and red salvia
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Explicit.
Yes, with the Daddy kink.
*
"God, I hope so."
Tommy can't believe those words left his mouth, but what is a guy to do when Evan Buckley is sitting so close looking delectable?
Evan only gazes at him, smiling in a way that seems to be hinting at something naughty. Tommy refuses to squirm in his seat. He's thirty-nine years old, he's not going to be a shy little prude about what he likes. Been there, done that, bought the t-shirts and the leather cuffs.
"I don't know, Tommy," says Evan slowly, spearing some salad on his fork, "I may need some persuading to, uh, open up to you more about my daddy issues."
He chews and raises an eyebrow in challenge.
Okay, that's it.
"Challenge accepted." Tommy feels a slow heat building at the base of his spine, but tucks that away for now. The dinner is really good and he's not about to deprive Evan of the energy he'll need. And Tommy is going to make sure Evan expends a lot of energy.
They chat about other matters: about flying for the army versus flying for the fire department, about bartending, about how Evan sued the fire department for wrongful termination ("yes, I'm on blood thinners, and yes, I'm very careful"), about the first car Tommy restored.
By the end of the meal, Tommy is less concerned with what they're talking about and more concerned about Evan's wine-stained lips and dark eyes. And from the way Evan's foot is rubbing up and down Tommy's calf, he thinks the younger man isn't interested in conversation any longer either.
"Let's clean up," Tommy suggests. He doesn't mean to drop his voice further, but the words come out in a low rumble. Evan's eyes darken even more.
They load up the dishwasher together, Tommy knowing enough about Evan not to usurp the task. When Evan closes the door to the machine and starts it up, Tommy reels his boyfriend in and says, "Good boy."
Evan swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I just put some plates in the dishwasher. That's hardly difficult."
"True," Tommy allows, then swivels Evan around to face the sink, where the salad bowl is sat. "Wash that now, hmm?" He keeps his hands on Evan's hips as Evan washes up quickly, and firmly pins him against the counter when he takes the bowl, his arms going around his boyfriend to dry the wooden bowl and set it aside.
"Tommy?" Evan sounds a little breathless. "What are you..."
"Shh. Good boys don't interrupt." Tommy turns him around again, noses along Evan's jawline and breathes him in. He flicks his tongue out and plays with Evan's earlobe before biting softly on it. Evan shudders and moans, wrapping his arms around Tommy's waist and shoulder.
Tommy feels his pulse kick up another notch. He pushes a thigh between Evan's knees, and gratifyingly Evan allows it. Tommy needs to get closer, and reaches down to hook one leg up. Evan goes along with it, gasping when Tommy starts licking and sucking on that soft spot under his ear. He's hard against Tommy where their groins are pressed together, and his fingers are digging into the older man's back.
"Alright, baby, do you want it here or on the bed?" Tommy growls. He wants it to be good for Evan, he needs it to be good for Evan. He needs to see Evan undone completely.
"Bed," Evan says.
Tommy begins to move, then pauses. A wicked little smile crosses his face and he leans back to make sure Evan can see it. "That's not how you answer nicely, Evan."
Evan is flushed and his pupils already wide with lust. His mouth - and what a pretty, pretty mouth, Tommy wants to do all kinds of filthy things to it - is open, his breathing labored. "Tommy, bed, please."
Tommy is very pleased that he's strong enough to keep Buck pinned against the counter. He rocks his hips forward, hissing at the pleasurable pressure. "Ask nicely."
"I did, I said please!" Evan protests. He tries to push away from the counter but with one leg firmly hooked around Tommy's waist, he has little leverage.
Tommy leans forward to lick his way into Evan's mouth, unable to bear another second not tasting his boyfriend. "Ask Daddy nicely now."
Evan freezes for a second. His hands tighten where he's clutching Tommy, and for a heartbeat Tommy wonders if he's spooked the younger man.
Then Evan grabs Tommy by his neck and practically inhales him with hungry kisses. With a tiny jump, he wraps both legs around Tommy and, oh, that feels very encouraging, where Evan's hard cock is pressed against his abdomen.
"Take me to bed right fucking now, Daddy." It's Evan's turn to growl, and Tommy is very glad his knees are strong enough to hold him and Evan up.
It takes some tricky maneuvering before they do end up on the mattress, Tommy having had to relinquish his prize so they can both take the stairs without falling and hurting themselves, and they're stripping with the efficiency of men who know exactly what they want right now. Evan grabs the lube from the nightstand and Tommy tears open a condom.
It never fails to awe Tommy that his partners trust him so much with their bodies, and even more so with Evan. The younger man sighs into the pillows and allows Tommy into him with minimal prep, only the faintest of grimaces on his face where it may sting. Despite every nerve telling him to claim, Tommy holds still, chest heaving and arms trembling with the effort not to just thrust into that slick, hot tightness.
Evan's eyes flutter open. His pupils are blown and his lips redder than before. "Take me," he whispers. "Take me hard. I wanna feel it for days."
Tommy smacks Evan's thigh lightly. "Ask properly."
Evan licks his lips, a look of mischief fluttering over his face. His cheeks are pink and his hair fluffed up. "I don't want to."
The downfall of saints, this one, Tommy thinks, and thrusts, once, to remind Evan exactly who's in charge, and begins to pull out. "Really? Then I guess I'll just take a nap instead-"
"Wait, no, Daddy," Evan gasps, and his cheeks flame even darker with want.
Tommy is shaking inside with desire but he holds still. "Ask. Properly."
Evan blinks up at him. A coy smile curves his lips. "Please, Daddy, may I have more?"
Tommy kisses him. "Much better." He flexes his hips and thrusts into Evan's hot body. It is so much better. He loses himself to the rhythm and the feel of sweat-slick skin. Evan spreads his long legs even more and wraps his limbs around Tommy, breathing encouragement and pleas for moremoremore.
Reaching between them, Tommy wraps his big hand around Evan's hard cock. "Daddy's gonna take care of you," he rasps, stroking fast and firmly, his callused hand wet with Evan's precome. Evan whimpers, fingers raking over Tommy's back. Even in the haze of lovemaking, Tommy hopes Evan will leave scratch marks. It'll be satisfying to have visible reminders of pleasure.
"Please," Evan sobs when Tommy's thumb rubs over the head of his cock over and over, the pad of his thumb pressing into the wet slit. "Please, please, please Daddy please-"
Another soft cry and Evan's spilling hot and slick all over Tommy's hand, clenching down on Tommy's cock. Tommy valiantly strokes Evan through his climax until he's limp and breathless, telling him you're a good boy Evan, such a good boy for me, and suddenly Evan has a hand buried in Tommy's hair and he's squeezing down on Tommy's cock again - whatever Evan has been reading up on to build those muscles, Tommy is going to get a subscription, it feels incredible - and then Evan is whispering in his ear, "Come for me, Daddy, show me how I've been a good boy." And Tommy's vision whites out for a second, all sensation rushing inwards and exploding through his nerves.
When his brain comes back online, he realizes he's lying on his boyfriend like a huge immovable rock and carefully pulls out to roll to the side. Evan makes an unhappy sound as Tommy releases him from his weight, but snuggles closer once Tommy's got rid of the condom.
"I know I liked that," Tommy mumbles, his eyelids growing heavy from the post-coital hormones. "But was it good for you?"
"Yeah, yes it was," Evan replies, sounding just as sleepy. He drapes a long leg over Tommy's. "We'll be stuck together if we don't shower though."
Part of Tommy wants to say he doesn't fucking care, but another part knows that Evan won't appreciate the discomfort. He grunts and levers himself up onto his elbows.
In the dim light, Evan's an adorable, debauched angel with mussed hair and flushed skin. Tommy wishes he were twenty again, just so he can go one more round with Evan immediately.
"We can shower together," he says instead, and gets a sweet kiss. Then he adds with a hopeful bat of his eyelashes. "Shower sex?"
Evan raises his eyebrows. "We'll see if you're... up to it." With another twinkle and smirk, he tacks on, "Old man."
Delighted, Tommy smiles and grabs Evan's wrist. "Challenge accepted."
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PAC: What Do Your Passed On Loved Ones Admire About You?
Hello beautiful people! Today's reading will be a lot more serious than normal so this is a warning for those who will get emotionally triggered. Your passed on loved ones are with you always! I am simply just passing on the message. My condolences to those who have lost a loved one in their lifetime. If you are interested in this reading, please don't be afraid to dm me so that you can book with me! Be sure to refer to my guidelines and dm me if you have any questions. Without further ado, please pick the image that resonates with you the most.
Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-6)
Pile One: Tenacity and strength are the first characteristics that come to mind. Your passed on loved one wants you to know that your childlike innocence is a gift not a curse. This could be your uncle. You are someone that can get the truth out of everyone simply because you know what to say. There’s not a lot that you have to say either. You’re quite the persuasive being. They also admire how level-headed you are. Some of your loved ones were more on the fiery side and because of that, they wish they could have been more balanced with their temperament when they were still here. However, this does not mean that you back down to a fight. You know when to open your mouth to protest against the injustices of the world. You have an undying love for humanity, nature and animals. You are so sensitive and precious to your loved ones. You also know when you’ve made a mistake. Your passed on loved ones see you as their Princess Diana. You’re kind and loving to all, but you fight when your back is against the wall or when others are being judged.
Cards Used: 6 of Cups, 7 of Wands, The Magician, 9 of Discs, Princess of Discs, 3 of Discs.
extras: blue ribbon ice cream. no limits. satisfaction guaranteed. mild. “there’s a lesson in everything.” monthly visits. crown. like mike (2002). lesbian. learning accommodations.
Pile Two: “You’re so cool” is the first thing that I heard. You are someone who is the standard. You are the Beyonce of your family. People try to impress you because you’re just that girl/guy/enby. You are an angel on earth. I feel like some of you were bullied when you were younger and this person came to your defense. This could have been an older sibling/cousin, maybe your mother who was younger than most. But you did not let these traumatic events harden you. You grew into a beautiful person. This pile as a whole went through a lot of back-to-back trauma in their lives but your passed on loved one wants you to know that they admire your peaceful approach to life. You are someone that is easy to bond with. I feel like you choose not to drink when the opportunity is presented because you have a bit of a temper when drunk. Your passed on loved one could have been the same way. You also have a fair way of viewing things. You try not to be biased when shown two sides of the story. You consider everything. You value the truth and the moral of the situation. Your integrity matters, Pile Two. Your passed on loved one wants you to continue to be this way.
Cards Used: Knight of Wands, Temperance, The Moon, 4 of Swords, Death, King of Swords, 6 of Discs.
extras: wet shirt. pushya moon. water sign. effervescent. sniffing flowers. moniker. “grown man.” glow. party pants. amazon. purify. NBA roster. sims 4 gaming channel. kawaii.
Pile Three: You are so humble, dear. Your passed on loved ones really admired your ability to talk to anyone. You never felt like you were above anyone. You treat everyone with the respect they deserve. You have stripped yourself down to the point where everyone can see through you clearly. You do not have to depend on material things to make up your self-concept. Your vulnerability is beautiful. It’s not a level of self-awareness that everyone can achieve. Some people may try to make you feel bad for where you come from but you carry yourself with nonchalance. That saying about sticks and stones is personified. Your passed on loved ones admire how you stay out of the way. “This is a crazy world” I heard. It feels like this is an elder talking to you. They believe that you will do big things in this world despite how little you have come from. You were not set up for failure. You have the tools to improve your situation.
Cards Used: The Star (RX), 6 of Cups, The Hermit, The High Priestess, Princess of Discs, Wheel of Fortune.
extras: neck tattoo. “kiss the ring.” ring around the rosie. martian. elephant in the room. malleable. solar system. troubleshoot. best buy. filled gas tank. empty condom box. snoring. aaliyah.
Pile Four: Your passed on loved one admires you in totality. This is your lover, could have been your fiance/fiancee. This also could have been your best friend. They miss your scent. They miss being in your presence, period. They love the shape of your eyes. They love the way you smile and tilt your head downward. You have this unexplainable quality about you that lights up the room. They know that life is different without them but they want you to keep going. Your go-getter, flirtatious nature is admirable as well. You have this lust for life that everyone should have. Your lover misses your physical touch. Your ability to get up every morning and go to sleep at night makes them want to come back down to Earth temporarily. Your person could have had some egotistical qualities about themselves but they love that you loved them with all your heart. They see you as their other half. They want to reunite with you in another life. This story is to be continued, my love.
Cards Used: Princess of Swords, 9 of Wands, 4 of Cups, King of Wands, 2 of Cups, The Lovers.
extras: eartha kitt. purr. austin powers costumes. chapell roan. meeting in college. musical.ly.
Pile Five: You take pride in your appearance. You stay in the gym to keep your figure right. You get your nails and hair done. You pick out the right colors for your wardrobe. You stay on top of your shit. But you also have this side to you that is in tune with the world around you. You have the perfect amount of both feminine and masculine energy to them. Are you a lawyer or social justice advocate? Your passed on loved one wants you to know that you can do all. You’re living proof that anything can happen. This feels like a male’s energy. He was a dominating force in the household and he was young. This could be your father or older brother. They are smiling down on how you have manifested everything that you two talked about. They were there in spirit when you made history/reached a milestone. They also admire how you keep in touch with family even after their death. They admire how you keep your promises even if it’s something that you don’t want to do. You need to learn to ask for help though and stop being so stubborn. They appreciate the altar you dedicated to them. If not, you need to. It would strengthen the relationship between the two of you.
Cards Used: Ace of Cups, The Emperor, Queen of Cups, Justice, The Star, 10 of Wands, 10 of Cups.
extras: quen blackwell. new workout plan (2004). ari fletcher. olivia pope. kpop bias. fallen curtain. sweeping feet.
Pile Six: When I pulled for you, I thought of the movie ‘Paid in Full’. Whoever your loved one is, they lived a dangerous/risky life at some point. But they admire how cutthroat you are. You get stuff done. You keep stuff moving. Your passed on loved one says that you have their swag. You have a lot of mental energy. You’re smart, both book and street smart. Your loved one says to stay safe and live life to the fullest; but also live it the clean way. They like how you stay outside in nature with the wildlife. I feel like you are the breadwinner or you at least have a lot of money saved up. You are attempting to gain financial stability at a young age and I can hear claps because of that, lol. Along with your practical side, they admire your outlook on life. You try to be as fiscal as possible but you also try to enjoy the fruits of your labor. You will party with a lot of people. I feel like your person was kind of uptight. I feel like you never miss a chance to make money. You’re a “hustler”, just like your loved one. This person feels like an uncle, a cousin, maybe your father.
Cards Used: King of Discs, King of Wands, 2 of Swords, King of Swords, 7 of Swords, Queen of Discs.
Extras: “keep it in the family.” “no one knows.” pork rinds. round glasses. beeper. shady business. groupme. “out of line.” solo dolo. throwback. paying tribute.
#tarot#tarotreading#hoodoo#astro notes#pick a card#pick a pile#divination#tarot pick a card#pick a reading#tarot pac#pac reading#occult#magick#tarot witch#witchblr#witchcraft#witch community#tarot cards#tarotcommunity#tarotblr#tarot reading#tarot reader#tarot deck#occultism#witch#ritual#spirituality#metaphysical#pick an image#daily tarot
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"woah would you look at that, deku just took out that guy with a single punch!"
"he's so amazing!~"
"you're my hero!!!"
So many people chant, root, and holler for even the slightest glimpse of his attention, even a glance.
"Mr deku, what can you tell us about this villain, you hadn't even put up much of a hassle and yet he appears to be tired!" One report gleams.
It's true. He hadn't done too much, one simple practically, light punch and the criminal was already down, he knew that. Deku knew he was good, he knew others thought he was good. He thrived on that kind of energy.
"oh~, well you know, I'm not one to brag nor bring other people down, criminal or not we're all human." He sings to the reporter, hinting at the fact she gave the measly little lowlife schmuck at best, a promotion to 'villian'. cameras flashing everywhere as he heard a bunch of girlish screams, everyone looks over to see a bunch of fan girls rallying to get an autograph.
Dammit.
Izuku tried so hard not to let his smile faulter, its not that he disliked his fans, really he could never, he knows one of the reasons he's here is because of his fans, and he loves them all equally no matter what. However. scrolling on the Internet, especially as a pro hero it's hard not to go down a loophole of your own fans. Izukus fans are nice, sure. But they're also bat shit crazy.
Doxxing people for disagreeing, assuming he was gay for his best friend dynamite, writing fanfiction about him and his best friend dynamite, assuming he had a new significant other because he changed up his style of clothing??
Really his fans are too much, he loves them, he does. But they are just so...smothering?
As he sees the fans hurrying toward him he tries his hardest to jump away as he was stopped by a little deaf girl who wanted an autograph.
Shit. You can't NOT give a little deaf girl an autograph it'd be bad publicity. he sighs deeply in defeat, knowing how easily persuaded he is, he'll most likely be there standing, on his feet, smiling wide and big for fans, for the next hour and a half.
Izuku sighed deeply through his nose as he finally, after 5 more hours of working, made it back to his bed, that's all he wanted. He didn't bother taking his suit off just simply jumping in his bed and groaning at the comfort he longed for.
He grabbed his phone and opened Twitter.. that was the first mistake of the night, he scrolled through his feed coming across a post of a girl just rambling about her ever lasting love for deku.
He shifted in his bed so now he was laying back on his pillows, turning up the sound to hear your beautifully slurred voice.
"- like bro.. I don't think any of you understand how my NEED for this man is like just.. sigh. I'm about to go crazy bro. If I were given the chance I'd do unholy. Unspeakable. Down right horrendous things to this man, i- aHaAVE YOU SEEN HIS NEW HERO SUIT??" You were talking to your friend who had the idea to start recording you while you were drunk, laughing and snorting at you.
The video was posted by you, the caption read; 'my friend started recording while i was drunk and i randomly went on a rant ab my love for the #1 hero 💀'
He snickered at this, genuinely finding it funny, but sooner or later it registered in his brain what you'd said..you'd do what to him.
Before he knew it he was semi hard, he looked down at his slight hard on confused, there is no way this turned him on?? He had been sent so many videos of his fan girls from all ages going down on a dildo with his name slapped on it, he never found it the least but attractive, just kind of desperate..
He watched the video again, his cock becoming fully erect as he sighed at the uncomfortable feeling of his now leaking, completely hard cock, rubbing against his suit pants.
It had been a while since he'd done something like this.. since he had used someone..he needed this, just to relax. Just a couple of strokes to get him to come, that's all.
He let out a shaky sigh, slowly trailing his thick fingers up and down his clothed cock, earning a light squeak to rip from his throat due to the slight pleasure he felt from the gentle actions.
He knew he needed it, he needed this so badly, but he wouldn't rush it. He hated when he rushed things, he says 'they never get done correctly'.
So he would be patient with himself, gently palming himself over his suit pants, letting breathy sighs leave his slightly dried and chapped lips.
He looked over to his phone to see the paused video...
'oh what the hell.' he thought to himself as he grabbed the phone, angling and holding it close to his ear to hear your voice and the loud laughs that he hopefully tried to blur out of his mind. Focusing on your voice fully.
He held the phone close to his ear closing his eyes listening to your slurred speech, and the hiccups and giggles that left your mouth, he bit his lip as his palming motions began to get harder and more rough, "I would do down right horrendous things to this man." That line stuck with him, that's what made him undo his pants and shimmy them off so he could fully touch his leaking, crying cock.
He groaned in embarrassment and disgust in himself at the sight of his already soaked boxers, why did his cock have to be so leaky!!
He whimpered at the sight, pulling his boxers down just enough to have his cock hit against himself. He wrapped two fingers around his cock and rolled his eyes back, biting his lip to sustain the sound that wanted to come out. He stroked himself slowly, letting the precum on his tip continue to drip down his thick cock.
He had listened to the audio all over again this time fixating on the part where you'd talked about his suit. He had changed up his suit a couple of times, never really straying away from the original concept he had in highschool, the green was always there to stay, and he always liked the fact his suit was more of a jumpsuit kind of thing, but changing it over the years, he went with a tighter fabric for his new and improved suit, removing the bunny ears at the back, and adding a white cape, replacing his huge bulky gloves with just as thick, smaller and well fitted ones, the white the painted his suit was now black.
He hadn't done much to his suit really.
But you and so many others thought it was the sexiest thing in the world.
He loved that, that you loved his suit, he whimpered in a pitchy octave, eyes crossing as he shut them, breaths becoming uneven as he wraps his whole hand around his aching, dripping, cock. It yearned for release, he needed it, it hurt so bad but felt so good he couldn't stop, he was sooo close!
So so close, and yet.. not close enough to get him there. He abandoned all self respect and hope for 'not rushing things' he needed to come and the only way he could is if he really touched himself.
He ripped off the top of his hero suit before rummaging in his bedside drawer to grab a Fleshlight, it was a lot more advanced than your normal average pussy shaped fleshie, it had handle and so many different modes!!! It vibrated and wiggled and had a squirt thingy that shot lube inside to make his cock slippery, not that he'd need it, his cock is like a water fountain with so much cum to give.
He turned it onto its highest setting before settling his twitching cock, dribbling with precum, inside of it.
He couldn't contain the line of moans that ripped out of him, he wanted to really he did, he wanted to keep quiet for his neighbors but he just couldn't, he felt so fucking good, he'd felt that he'd never been this hot or bothered before especially not because of some measly audio that wasn't in any way remotely sexual, and yet he was so close to cumming because of it. This video. This person. You.
You were so close to making him cum.. he was right there bucking his hips up into the contraption, shaking, whilst his whole body spasmed as he threw his head back, sweat dripping from his tired and spent body, he groaned and moaned so loudly it was so lewd, he was so lewd. He couldn't believe what he was doing, he felt so dirty, but in this very moment, he couldn't care. He was so drunk off of the immense amount of pleasure he was receiving that all he wanted, needed, was to cum.
And when he finally released with a high pitched moan, globs of tears leaving his rolled eyes, there was so much, ropes of his white, hot, thick cum squirting inside of the toy. It was still vibrating against his softening cock, it made him so overstimulated yet he couldn't move, his orgasm was so strong he didn't have the energy to take his cock out. He just sat there, holding onto the toy that continuously vibrated and massaged his limp, thick, crying cock, crying, sniffing, and whimpering.
Hell he'd probably already came again without even knowing it, his orgasms had gone on for a while, he still couldn't move, just blissfully laying against his bed, covered in sweat and tears streaming down his reddened freckled face.
As he regained his composure, the overstimulation was more than enough, he hiccuped, wiping his face from the tears and sweat that covered it, as he turned off the toy and tossed it off of his bed, he was half naked, hot, and hungry.
He groaned as he draped one of his arms over his face, feeling the sweat and tears cover his forearm, as he heard the video that had been playing over and over again on repeat. His eyes shot wide open as he scurried to grab his phone. he looked at the video in disgust. Had he really just gone to a new low, and came to this stupid video of a dumb drunk girl complimenting him??
His post nut clarity was always bad, especially because he did some pretty down bad, disgusting, sinful things. But this? Yeah he deserved to suffer for all eternity.
He groaned placing his phone under his pillow as he buried his face in said pillow, squeezing his eyes shut at how hard he'd came, his cock still filthy and sticky with his thick ooey gooey cum, now dirtying his bed.
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AN: he hates himself for how much and how hard he came, he really does.
I'm making a pt 2🤭
#deku smut#deku x reader#izuku is so girlie pop#izuku x reader#boku no hero academia#mha#mha x reader#cvnts-post
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One-Shot: Shadows of Destiny
Summary:
Amidst the turmoil of a heated argument, an explosion forces Y/N to protect Azriel, resulting in both of them being injured. As Y/N tends to Azriel's unconscious form, the mating bond snaps into place, revealing their deep connection. When Azriel awakens, he must confront his feelings and the bond that has been hidden for years. Together, they face their newfound reality, united by a love that can withstand any challenge.
Word Count: 1118
Warnings: This story includes scenes of violence and injury, emotional distress, and themes of fear and guilt. There are mentions of medical procedures and some explicit language. If any of these topics are triggering for you, please read with caution.
The training room echoed with the clash of steel and the heavy breathing of the two combatants. Azriel and Y/N had been sparring for hours, their frustration and emotions fueling every strike and parry. The tension between them had been building for weeks, and tonight it had finally reached its breaking point.
"You're holding back!" Y/N shouted, her voice trembling with anger as she swung her blade at Azriel.
He deflected the blow with ease, his expression hard. "I'm not going to hurt you, Y/N."
"I don't need your protection, Azriel!" she snapped, stepping back to catch her breath. "I need you to treat me like an equal."
Azriel's jaw tightened as he lowered his sword. "You are my equal, but that doesn't mean I want to see you hurt."
Y/N’s eyes flashed with fury. "You don’t get it, do you? You never do! I’m not some fragile thing that needs to be coddled. I’m a warrior, just like you!"
Azriel’s shadows swirled around him, mirroring his agitation. "I know you’re strong, Y/N. But I can’t just turn off my feelings for you. I care about you too much."
"Care?" Y/N scoffed, tears of frustration welling in her eyes. "You think this is about care? It’s about respect. If you can’t respect me as a warrior, then what’s the point?"
Azriel took a step closer, his eyes burning with intensity. "I respect you more than anyone else. But watching you get hurt... it tears me apart."
Y/N’s breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest. "Why? Why does it matter so much to you?"
Before Azriel could respond, a sudden explosion rocked the training room. The walls shook, and debris rained down around them. Y/N’s eyes widened in horror as she saw a large piece of the ceiling break free, heading straight for Azriel.
Without thinking, she lunged forward, pushing him out of the way. The debris struck her instead, knocking her to the ground. Azriel scrambled to her side, his shadows wrapping around them both protectively.
"Y/N!" he cried, his voice filled with panic.
She groaned, pain shooting through her body. "I'm fine," she managed to say, her voice weak. "Just... get us out of here."
Azriel scooped her up in his arms, his heart pounding with fear and guilt. He carried her out of the training room, his shadows helping to clear a path through the rubble. Once they were safe, he laid her down gently, his hands trembling.
"Stay with me, Y/N," he whispered, his voice breaking.
She nodded weakly, her vision blurring. "Azriel..."
As she lost consciousness, Azriel’s heart shattered. He had failed to protect her, failed to keep her safe. The guilt and fear consumed him as he held her close, his shadows wrapping around them both in a protective cocoon.
Y/N awoke in the healing quarters of the House of Wind, her body aching but her mind sharp. She tried to sit up, but a gentle hand on her shoulder stopped her.
"Easy," Majda, the healer, said softly. "You’ve been through a lot."
"Azriel," Y/N gasped, her heart racing. "Where is he?"
Majda’s expression turned somber. "He’s alive, but he’s in bad shape. He shielded you from the worst of the explosion. He hasn’t woken up yet."
Y/N’s heart clenched with fear and guilt. She had pushed him out of the way, but he had still been injured protecting her. "I need to see him."
Majda nodded, helping her to her feet. "He’s in the next room. But you need to rest too, Y/N. You’re still recovering."
Y/N nodded, but her focus was on Azriel. She moved to the next room, her heart breaking at the sight of him lying unconscious, his body covered in bandages. She approached his bedside, tears streaming down her face.
"I’m so sorry, Azriel," she whispered, taking his hand in hers. "I should have been more careful."
As she touched him, a sudden warmth spread through her, and she gasped as the mating bond snapped into place. It was an overwhelming sensation, a connection that went beyond anything she had ever felt. She knew, in that moment, that Azriel was her mate.
"Azriel," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Please wake up. I need you."
Days passed, and Y/N stayed by Azriel’s side, her heart aching with the knowledge of their bond. She spoke to him, telling him stories and sharing her feelings, hoping that her voice would reach him.
Finally, one evening, Azriel stirred. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked around, disoriented. When his gaze landed on Y/N, a wave of relief washed over him.
"Y/N," he croaked, his voice weak.
She leaned forward, tears of joy streaming down her face. "I’m here, Azriel. I’m right here."
He reached out, his hand trembling as he cupped her cheek. "I thought I lost you."
She shook her head, her heart overflowing with love. "You saved me. You always save me."
Azriel took a deep breath, his eyes filled with emotion. "Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you."
She nodded, her heart pounding. "I know. I felt it too."
His eyes widened in surprise. "You did?"
She smiled, her tears falling freely. "Yes. The bond... it snapped into place when I touched you. I know you’re my mate, Azriel."
Relief and joy filled his eyes as he pulled her into a gentle embrace. "I’ve known for a while," he admitted, his voice trembling. "But I was afraid. Afraid of what it would mean for us."
She held him close, her heart bursting with love. "We’re in this together, Azriel. Always."
Their lips met in a desperate, passionate kiss, the weight of their words and the bond between them igniting a fire that had been smoldering for too long. They poured all their frustration, love, and longing into that kiss, finally allowing themselves to embrace the bond that had been waiting for them.
When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads remained pressed together, their breaths mingling. Azriel’s shadows wrapped around them both, a protective cocoon that shielded them from the world.
"I love you, Y/N," Azriel whispered, his voice filled with reverence.
"I love you too, Azriel," she replied, her heart full and whole.
In that moment, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, united by the bond that had finally snapped into place. Their love, forged in the heat of argument and tempered by their shared strength, was unbreakable. And as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, they knew they had found their true home in each other.
#ACOTAR#A Court of Thorns and Roses#Azriel x Reader#Azriel#Y/N#Mating Bond#Romance#Drama#Emotional#Heated Argument#Explosion#Healing#Recovery#Love#Velaris#Night Court#SJM Fanfiction#Sarah J Maas#One-Shot#Fantasy Romance#Friends to Lovers#Slow Burn#acotar fandom#acotar fanfiction#azriel fanfic
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Wolf in sheep's clothing
Joost Klein x fem!reader
Warnings: (Joost is not famous in this!) stalking, bad behaviour, maybe paranoia? mentions of killing and mentions of dead people... NOT EDITED!
English is not my first language, so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors!
Wc. over 1500
---
You always thought that you met Joost by accident. But was it really? With him you never know, and now you were pretty sure that it wasn't by accident. He is a man with charm, that's a very dangerous thing.
His blue eyes held more darkness than you had ever seen in anyone else. But there still was something in them, you just hoped it wasn't too late for him.
And even now that you aren't together, you still hoped there was some way to save him.
"By safe on your way home." Said your mother through the phone you had between your ear and shoulder.
"Yeah mom, I will. Don't worry, okay? I love you, bye." You ended the call and made your way home on the busy streets of Amsterdam. It was getting colder this time of year and you feared it would start snowing in a few weeks.
It was a short trip home from the grocery store. Just around the corner, by the book store, where you always walk by. But you tried to walk here only during the day, not night. You saw in the news many times before how some doubtful people robbed other people near your apartment. This wasn't the best street to live on, but it was still your home after all.
You hated that you had to lie to your mother, but it was for the best. She knew about your and Joost break up and she worried about you. And she would definitely get crazy if you told her the truth about your real parting.
The place you loved no matter what. Yes, it has some advantages and disadvantages, but what hasn't. And after you and Joost broke up, you tried to avoid this this shortcut as much as possible. You always thought that someone was watching you going through here, and now that you and Joost weren't together, you felt this feeling growth.
You speed up a little and adjust your jacket around you with bag full of food in one hand and the other in your pocket. "It's alright Y/n, no-one is here, there's nothing to be scared of." You kept telling yourself, you were ready for everything.
But it wasn't this unfamiliar gaze that scared you. No, you knew it very well who exactly it was. He is the one you should avoid, to hide from and to fear. Maybe you didn't know where he was, but you knew he was close.
"Y/n"
It was so quiet, you almost didn't hear it. You stopped in your tracks and slowly turned around. It was him, in all his glory. You didn't say anything. You couldn't, it was like he took all the oxygen and you just couldn't breathe.
"Y/n" he repeated and took a step towards you. But you couldn't move, it was like you were glued to the floor. Looking closer at him, you saw behind his glasses how his right eye was a bit swollen and purple around the corner. He didn't look good, in fact he scared you.
He stopped a few centimeters before you, practically breathing right in your face and you were sure, you were breathing just as hard.
"Wha..." you couldn't bring yourself to even speak properly, but you had to for your sake. "What are you doing here?" It was a simple question, but you didn't expect him to answer truthfully.
"I'm here to see you."
"No," Stepping back, you took your other hand out of your pocket, keeping distance between you and him. "You can't be here."
"Why not." This dull look in his ocean eyes wasn't the one you fell in love with, he wasn't your Joost. The one that cared for everyone so much all the time, even though he didn't have to. This wasn't your Joost that told you how much he loves you right when you woke up in the morning and before you fell asleep in his hold.
This wasn't him. This was someone else.
"You know why." Came out as a whisper. "We are done." You turned back around and continued your way home, you didn't stop even when you heard his voice calling after you.
"You can't keep doing this Y/n!"
He wasn't coming after you and you were glad, you just hoped you won't have to see him again.
As soon as you saw your apartment, you sighed and walked inside the building. He was gone.
Opening the door, you were greeted by loud meowing. It was like your cat brought you out of the trance. He was hungry and rubbed his head against your leg.
Kefir. He was a present from Joost and the name was an idea from him too. He knew how much you liked milk, so you immediately agreed. Your little nonstop meowing little Kefir.
You put the full bag on the counter after you made sure you locked the door. That night you couldn't sleep, how could you, and all because you saw something you shouldn't. It didn't had to end this way, but he had made his choice.
How can you hurt someone, let alone kill. This was twisted. Beyond disguising. And what was worse, you didn't told that to anyone, too scared to say something to someone. But you made your choice to break up with him. It didn't make you feel any less guilty, but you had to do something, anything at this point.
And you knew that if you looked out of the window, behind curtains, you would see him here standing with a cigarette in his mouth. How he was watching you every night for the past month since you broke up.
He scared you. Joost scared you.
---
You woke up later than usual, but there was no wonder. When you went to sleep, the sun was already up. When you looked out of the window, he was no longer here.
"Are you hungry?" You asked the cat and he just meowed as you made your way to the kitchen. You put kefir granules and got ready for the day.
Then you made your way to work and after the whole day, you had to say, you had enough. All those rude people and their bizarre ideas how you could do your job better.
When you went home you couldn't help but notice certain things. He wasn't here. Normally he was right there waiting in some dark corner watching over you or going behind you in crowded streets.
You didn't think much of it, thinking he finally stopped following you around like a lost puppy. You took a deep breath and stepped inside the building and made your way to the fourth floor. As you opened the door, you knew he was there, in your home that used to be your both.
You immediately noticed, but it wasn't for your cat, because he came to greet you as soon as you opened.
You knew he was here because he didn't follow you home. It was a strange thing for him to do, but you got used to it.
"How did you get in?"
You heard his chuckle and saw him step to the light of your living room.
"I don't want you here Joost. I made that clear." You said to him feeling confident, but that didn't mean you feared him any less.
"I didn't mean to scare you that night, you know?" He admitted and made his way slowly to you.
"Do you..." You began "Do you want me dead?"
He didn't answer that, you didn't expect him to. He looked at you and after so long, you finally saw something in his eyes other than emptiness. It was like he recognised you.
"Dead?" Joost asked and tilted his head to the side. "Y/n, I don't want you dead."
"Then why do you keep doing this? Why are you scaring me? Why did you kill that guy?"
"I love you, can't you see that?"
He looked desperate and ashamed of himself. Like he didn't recognise himself too. Looking down he pulled you closer by your waist and put his head on top of yours. He squeeze your waist and then whispered.
"You don't get it, I had to do it."
"Why?"
"Because of you. For you."
Now it was your turn to be quiet. Too scared to say something. You didn't return the hug he was holding you in and he noticed. You closed your eyes as you felt them fill with tears of psychical pain and regret for someone's life they couldn't live.
"No, it was always going to end this way."
This only made him hold you closer and harder. You took a deep breath and whispered.
"It doesn't have to end this way."
---
Don't copy or translate my work. Also the picture is not mine, credit goes to owner.
A/n: idk how I should feel about this... it's not edited so... :))
#joost klein x fem!reader#joost klein x you#x reader#k0juki's stuff 🩷#x female!reader#joost klein#joost klein x reader#justice for joost#joostice#dark#dark!joost#dark!joost klein#dark!joost klein x reader#fanfic#blurb#imagine#europa#europe#eurovision#dark romance
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ok the askbox is open. im taking this opportunity to say ohhhhh im going crazy over the narrative constructed here. specifically with how audience (anon) interaction is intertwined with the main conflict.
because its like.. we are inherently a BAD THING. yes, some of us are actually malicious, but even if we do have kind intentions, and only want the best for ragatha.. just being there is a negative impact that outweighs any positives. we are a parasite, after all. and technically, the only positive action we could do is to simply.. stop engaging. leave the askblog alone. leave ragatha alone. except we could never do that, because we're too curious now, too attached- we want to see how the story continues, how it ends. we cant leave well enough alone, we just have to know. we need to know. so the cycle will continue nonetheless due to our nature. and we have to watch as our main character, the person we're rooting for, gets worse and worse. knowing that its our fault, because we're choosing to engage. we're choosing this path of pain. because we're curious, and that curiosity would kill us if we didn't feed it.
and of course its on a tadc tumblr ask blog of all things lol. no hate btw. im here enjoying it after all! though honestly i say that like this had any opportunity of existing outside of the askblog genre... or even the tumblr landscape itself- i feel like the anon feature itself is also a big part of this sort of narrative, as it allows those actively malicious anons to be even nastier. because it distances us from our actions. like.. we're given a mask, something that obscures our true identities (both to the other askers.. and to ragatha to an extent, as most all look the same to her. who knows, maybe that one supportive anon trying to cheer her up is the same one also encouraging her downfall! she cant tell!)- a thing that wipes our hands free of any consequences. a chance to become faceless and untraceable- so of course some people will indulge. be as horrible as possible. because, hey, its not like you'll be getting any consequences for it! no way to trace it back to you! no way to be held accountable! you can just sit back and watch the fire you made grow higher. more bright. thats the main goal, after all- to make a spectacle! to move the story along and make it exciting! thats the only thing that matters to you. that its entertaining. not the people you'll be harming in the process.
anyways sorry for the fucking. essay. in your askbox. i like talking and also i fucking love dissecting meta-aligned narratives like this. gggrrggrgrgrrrr chewing on this blog like a chewtoy. i hope everyone gets worse and this whole blog blows up!!!!!!!
i can't stop giggling at ' its on a tadc tumblr ask blog of all things ' . this was really originally supposed to just be a silly blog with little story but here we are . you really won't get this anywhere else
i get pretty happy when someone dissects this silly thing so no need to apologize !! i'm my own harshest critic when it comes to this blog so it's often difficult for me to grasp what meaning people get out of this lol truly thank you guys for wanting to see my insane , Unhinged ideas come through
and i love the dissection on the mean anons - a lot of this thing hinges on actions having consequences after all ! every little thing will have an impact on ragatha's mental state . i'll say i think the anons have potential to not be as harmful - as there was a point in the blog's time where they acted more like inner therapists to ragatha than reality-bending beings of chaos ( good times ) . it just really depends on being patient with an actually mentally ill person like ragatha - it does fascinate me how people's frustration with her echoes real life mental health situations .
but yeah thanks !!! i'll be kissing this essay and pinning it on the refrigerator that i call my brain (:
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Maximus - the main antagonist in the series?
I finally watched Fallout and I want to comment on one thing, apart from the whole Cooper and Lucy relationship, because there are a lot of analyzes on Tumblr and Twitter (after watching the series, I will immediately rewatch it to find some additional hints, and if not, it's just for fun, because the series for me... was a masterpiece, it's been a long time since I couldn't break away from the series like I did from Fallout, especially since I was playing games, so it was wonderful to feel this atmosphere again, to sum up the sentiment completely took me far away...), so I'll just link some of these analyzes and hints here, in case someone hasn't read it:
It's 100% CGI, you can see how at the end that thread moves completely unnaturally, there's no way it's real, it had to be CGI and it had to be for something, it makes no sense to add such a little, tiny detail with CGI after nothing..., after all, money is spent on it, it's one thing to write "I love you" in the background, and another thing is to make a heart out of thread using CGI... (at least that's what I think, I don't know anything about CGI, but even such a small thing must cost a bit... :D )
Apart from the fact that Max and Lucy have practically no foreshadowings and no chemistry, and they DON'T KNOW each other at all, because their whole relationship is based on "I met a nice girl/boy and I think I like her/him", because let's be honest, there is no talk about love here, they liked each other because Max helped Lucy with the radiation and Lucy helped Max get out of the armor, they helped each other and were nice to each other, that's all... but it's not enough to talk about love, liking each other yes, but not about love (I'm surprised when people, for example on Twitter, write that Max and Lucy love each other, where...???) and as I mentioned above, they don't know each other, they know practically nothing about themselves, about their plans, dreams, tastes, perception of the world, etc., they know nothing about each other, they have barely met, and their entire relationship is based on the fact that in this world it is simply difficult to have any other person, so they instinctively grab whatever comes first. Lucy dreamed of getting married and having children, she was taught to focus on the ,,survival of the species", her whole wedding was pure ,,politics", and in the end it turned out that she married a bandit who then tried to kill her, while Maximus probably never didn't think about these matters, surrounded by practically only guys and focused on military life..., so their entire relationship is based on: ,,he's/she's nice, ok, I'll take it", that's why their relationship seems rushed and has zero chemistry , so in my opinion it is not a bad writing (like with Chaggie from Hazbin Hotel in my opinion), it is supposed to be like that and it makes logical sense, as I have already presented above, this relationship is supposed to be quick and without chemistry, because it is supposed to show their standards, how low they are, in this world... and Cooper, on the other hand, comes from a completely different world...
By the way, unlike Max and Lucy, who nevertheless spend some time together while traveling sensibly, we don't see any specific conversations between them that could bring them closer to each other, as I wrote above, they don't know each other and in fact they don't even try to get to know themselves, while in the case of Cooper and Lucy, Lucy constantly asks Cooper questions, and sometimes he answers (in fact, not directly, but he answers), they have a conversation about torture, Lucy asks Cooper why he is like this, why he continues this ( scene with cannibalism), Lucy asks what he is (water scene), etc., Lucy asks Cooper questions, wants to get to know him, wants to learn more about him, and he also learns more about her through her talkativeness (e.g. the initial scene when Cooper and Lucy meet for the first time and Lucy tries to diplomatically calm him down, or the scene when Lucy gives Cooper the vials), Cooper and Lucy have already gotten to know each other more than Max and Lucy, and now Lucy has gone with Cooper....
But leaving Cooper and Lucy, because this post is not about them, let's move on to Max..., Max, who in my opinion has a great predisposition to become the main or at least one of the main (because the most main may be those from Vault-Tec) antagonists in series, why....
At the beginning, I was positive towards Max, unlike Lucy, who seemed naive and stupid to me at the beginning, and I don't like such characters (of course, I liked Cooper from the very beginning, after all, Hancock was my Fallout husband in Fallout 4 ;) ), and then she surprised me in the scene with her husband, when she ,,killed" him (almost, but still), I didn't expect such a change in the character at all..., later she surprised me by the fact that she is not as stupid as she seemed in the in the beginning, yes she is naive but not stupid, she just had to get out of the bubble called the Vault and I can't wait to see how her character will evolve in season 2 after all this and being together with Cooper..., I want to see her show her claws..., I want to see even more how, under this guise of a naive girl, there is actually a strong and dangerous woman who can cope on her own and is still fair and honorable..., I love such characters :) , but I had a different experience with Max, whom I liked at the beginning, but the further into the forest, the more I felt like ,,guy, you make more and more stupid decisions, what's wrong with you...", at the beginning Max seemed to me as reasonable, honorable, fair and a real soldier, and at the end I only saw him as an unreasonable 15-year-old boy making stupid, irresponsible and evil decisions with his own ego problem... sorry, but this character gave me the vibe at the end that he would go towards darkness, and when he finds out that Lucy is allied with Cooper..., a guy he fought and who completely defeated and humiliated him..., a guy who, by the way, he hasn't seen since that fight..., Cooper and Max haven't had any interaction in the show apart from this fight, so Max has absolutely no knowledge that Cooper is ,,in the game", and that Lucy could have gone with him at all, he's probably already forgotten about him, and when he remembers..., I'm really curious about his reaction....
The first and most important thing about Maximus in the series... in season one, when asked why he joined the brotherhood, he replies that to ,,hurt the people who hurt me"... that's not a praiseworthy answer..., this is not a good answer..., sure, I understand the issue of revenge etc., but as good and golden rules teach (speaking of Lucy's golden rules, because she sticks to them and this is what distinguishes her from, above all, Maximus) revenge brings no good..., Lucy, despite everything, didn't want to take revenge on Moldaver, even though many people she knew died because of her, her father was kidnapped, and she almost died, she didn't want to take revenge on her, of course, she was out of her own turf and surrounded by enemies, but still, her goal was to free her father, not revenge, while Max's goal is simply revenge, he doesn't want to, for example, rebuild Shady Sands or be a good knight who helps people, bring peace to this world, NO, he just wants revenge..., he wants to become a knight for his own selfish purposes, not for other people, while Lucy does things for other people, wants to free her father, helps Wilzig, worries about dog while Cooper is dragging her, helping Cooper with the vials, helping the ghouls (of course she didn't know and probably wouldn't understand that they were wild, her intentions were good, and that something bad came out of it is something she couldn't have known at that moment), she also helps in vault 4 when she first thinks something bad is happening there, and then she tells Max to return the core and kills his mother out of mercy, just like Cooper killed Roger (I think at this point, after the incident with wild ghouls, Lucy understood what Cooper did then and that it was good after all), Lucy does everything to help people and live according to the golden rules, while Max is selfish and thinks only about himself, leaving aside the issue of revenge, he also says that he wanted something bad to happen to Dane, of course he didn't really do anything to them, but he wanted something bad to happen to them... what kind of person do you have to be to want them to become your best friend harm, just because they got what you wanted..., from the very beginning the series shows us not to have any illusions about Maximus and that he is not really and will not be a good guy...., he let Titus die and sure, the guy was a dick and I would probably get angry too and want to kill him, but kill him anyway... quickly... while from what we see, Max just lets Titus die slowly, I don't know about you, but for me there is a difference between killing someone quickly because he deserved it, and letting it happen and WAITING AROUND him until he slowly dies... that was cruel... I would understand if Max killed him, but he KILLED, he showed some humanity despite everything, even though the guy deserved to die, and he didn't wait next to him and listen to him slowly die... it was evil....
Then, when he has armor, he enters a situation with a guy who raped a chicken (Cooper would be really angry :D ) and instead of learning the whole situation, calming them down and finding out what's going on, who is right, he immediately takes the side of the one who is oppressed, thus oppressing the one who is actually right, takes him brutally by the hair and is happy about it..., seriously..., you are happy about this situation..., even if he were helping a good person, I don't think so that there is something to be happy about here..., although what I really think he enjoys is the power, the power that the armor gives him..., this is bad again... if someone likes the feeling of power so much, power and control, it always reflects badly on him..., then (after painfully holding the innocent man all the time) he throws the guy to the ground and when the other explains the situation that took place, Maximus doesn't even apologize..., he is only distracted and then says, ,,Okay. On your way, citizen." what..., as if you hadn't hurt this ,,citizen" a moment ago and didn't judge him badly..., not at all, there's nothing to apologize for here..., it's better to go on your way..., God..., this was the scene from which my opinion about Maximus slowly started to go down, because even with Titus I still made excuses for him (even if it was cruel), but from that moment Maximus with starting with my grade of his character as ,,4+", at the end of the series he dropped to a grade of ,,2-" and it's not that this is a poorly written character, NO, in my opinion it is a very well-written character, just a bad character man and I mean assessing his humanity, not the creators' writing, because in my opinion it is very good :)
In addition, of course, we have the issue that he lies to everyone that he is Titus because he wants to be a knight and clearly wants people to admire him (again, the issue of his ego), at the beginning he clearly wants to kill Thaddeus in cold blood, but then he changes his mind (apart from what killing Thaddeus would give you..., even if you came back with the head, you would be responsible for two deaths..., come on...), then of course he tries to kill him again after he tells him the truth..., then we have the Vault 4 arc in episode 6 and halfway through the episode when Max goes to the armor that is in the room, he looks at him through the glass with a stupid smile, he turns around and with that smile and behavior, with his body movements, he looks to me like he told them ,,See, this is my armor, this is me, I'm a knight"... it looks as if he wanted someone to come up to him and ask him about it, and he could brag about how cool he is, because I really don't know how else to read this short scene...:
Sorry for the poor quality, I did it on my phone.
then he turns back to the armor and his facial expression changes, he frowns:
and we have a close-up of the entrance to the core, and Maximus sees the guy next to him screwing in a light bulb and asking where it came from they take electricity, he goes to that place and wants to take their fusion core..., literally at that moment he wants to brazenly steal their fusion core, the people who helped them and cured him, he wants to take away their only source of energy..., or Maximum is so stupid that he doesn't know that this is literally their source of survival and thinks that they can cope without him, although it's still vile and I don't believe it, or Maximus is just a vile, evil and selfish man who doesn't matter with no one else but himself and what would make him feel good..., just look at his face at this moment...:
he knows that he is doing something he shouldn't and he is clearly doing it with full premeditation...
later in the plot, in episode 7, when Maximus sees the inhabitants of Vault 4 doing something to Lucy, which Maximus does..., of course he doesn't find out about the whole situation first, he doesn't try to eavesdrop on what they're talking about or anything, he just rushes in in armor and starts attacking everyone around, seriously... how stupid and irresponsible it was of him, I won't even mention... and when they finally release them, which Maximus does..., he takes the armor with the core with him, without thinking that it is their only source of energy and, what's most funny, he doesn't want to give it back..., NO, he wants to keep it so he can walk around in his big armor and show everyone "look how great I am!", says that he needs a core for his armor, and without the armor he won't be a knight, Lucy tells him that a knight shouldn't steal, and Max replies ,,with this armor, I can help people", how have you helped people so far..., you let escape a chicken rapist..., besides, what kind of help is it if, in order to provide this help to people, you steal something that will put other innocent people at risk of death..., you can't build something good on something bad, poisonous roots, will give poisonous fruit, no other way..., then the best thing is..., because be careful... he is trying to MANIPULATE HER! Yes..., this guy who supposed wants to be good, noble, fair..., no wait..., he wants to be a knight to take revenge..., nevermind..., it's up to him anyway fits..., he manipulates her, playing on her feelings, telling her that he wants to help her find her father and asks her if she would give up the core if it meant she wouldn't get her dad back, if it was up to the core to get her father back..., only then Lucy convinces him to give up the core when she says that if his father found out about it, it would break his heart and that she can't do that, only then Maximus gives up on convincing her and decides to give up the core. Lucy is his moral compass here, and it's possible that she would put him back on the right path if she were with him, but in the end, Lucy chooses Cooper and leaves with him.
To sum up... where do people who ship Lucy and Max have this good and beloved Max... where... where is Max a better person and a better match for Lucy than Cooper... (because I saw some comments under some episodes of the series that ,,Ghoul is evil and Max is good and honorable"), so far Max makes more bad decisions and does it with full premeditation and/or out of his own stupidity..., when Cooper, when he does something, it has a purpose..., he never does anything without a reason, yes, he shot Roger, but he did it out of mercy, first he made Roger remember the good times, so that in those last moments he died happily (this is one of my favorite scenes, if not my favorite, it was sweet and touching despite the situation...), he shoots Wilzig, but in the foot, probably so that he won't just run away, it's not to kill him, since he probably at that moment he thinks that he has to deliver him alive, because it is only from Wilzig that Lucy learns that only his head is enough, not himself, he kills people in the town, but only those who attacked him, he doesn't go around houses and doesn't kill random people..., kills "guards" who were bad for him, and one obviously wanted to kill him, but he doesn't kill their boss, interestingly..., he kills, of course, three guys at the beginning who are also ready to kill him and they want to force him to work for them, after practically lying in a coffin underground for 30 years, he kills the farmer's son, when the son reaches for a gun, you can see here how Cooper is poking this son to see if he is capable of doing it, but he himself doesn't reach for the gun until this son reaches for it, Cooper always wants to know, to be sure whether the man he is killing really deserves it, whether there is really a point in killing him, unlike Maximus, who never finds out who he is really guilty, he prefers to just ,,go with the wave" and he orders the one he finds guilty at first glance, he even wants to kill Thaddeus at the beginning (of course he doesn't do it in the end, but he wants to) even though the guy hasn't done any harm to him yet (and bullying ,,at school" is not a good reason to kill, it's not a reason at all), and he's not torturing Lucy like some still claim, even though Cooper himself and the entire scene says he's using her as bait, not torturing her, and yet there are still people who say he's torturing her here..., really I know that some people sometimes have trouble reading the situation on the screen, but when the entire situation on the screen screams "BAIT!" and the character who uses the bait says directly that he thinks torture doesn't work and uses her as bait, like one can still claim that there is some torture in this scene..., are there really people who cannot hear and see things that are said directly..., how..., Cooper used to be a good guy and he still is, deep down, he's still that good guy. When there is a scene from the past when Cooper has to play a slightly worse guy on camera to show that his character also makes mistakes, he doesn't want to do it, he doesn't like it, because in his opinion a good person should be good and not make such mistakes, Lucy will direct him back to the right path, and he will teach her a little about life, this is the perfect dynamic of two different, yet very similar characters who can and do influence each other's development.
And I don't know about you, but for me this scene is terrifying:
this whole brotherhood is like a religious sect, and at this moment Maximus has become a kind of prophet and that look in his eyes...:
for me it is disappointment combined with the desire revenge, disappointment because he found out that the father of the girl he liked is responsible for the destruction of his house and probably the death of his relatives (we never have memories of Maximus' relatives, which is interesting, so it is not certain), and he managed to escape, and the desire I don't think I need to explain revenge... Maximus' plot in season one starts with revenge and ends with revenge, it's his plot, whether someone likes it or not... and in my opinion, as a result of everything I have described, he will change into an increasingly worse person, he was not good from the beginning and will only get worse....
This is a long post, as usual for me... unfortunately, I don't know how to write short... and besides, I like it when all the details are brought to light :) , that's the end, thank you for reading and have a nice day/evening/night :)
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🎱 ` DON’T WANNA BE FOOL, WANNA BE COOL
syn. wherein nishimura riki has the biggest crush on you, but why would he tell you that? right?
fem reader , fluff , ni-ki is kind of emotionally constipated minimal proofread , word count. 1.0k + hes so ahhhhhhh i love him in fatal trouble :(
you’re an idiot, ni-ki thinks.
and he does not mean that in any demeaning way, he could never—even if he used to call you that back then, but it’s different now. he’s not calling you an idiot for forgetting your umbrella when it’s pouring out on your way home or your jacket when you get cold and you’re pestering him to give his own. or even when you ask him something outrageously stupid and he couldn’t even find it in himself to say no.
no, ni-ki thinks you’re an idiot for not picking up on the hints he’s been giving you, since last month.
it’s outright a painful situation to watch, especially for him. even your close friends see it, just how can a person be this oblivious anyways?
he thinks he might be sick, because one day he feels his stomach suddenly flipping upside and down when you’re resting your head on his shoulders. you’ve been doing this since the both of you were six, what’s wrong with him?
this was just you being you, just another day the both of you shared—just another day with you. he might be going insane, he surmised. and now his waking and ending days are all now by the memory of you. his mondays were not a mundane that just happens like it did in the ones that has passed.
mondays were your dreadful days and it was his seventh heaven.
here you were, in front of him so close, he can feel you, he can touch you, he can bask in the warmth you always shine on, but he can’t have you like how lovers do. he can’t kiss you that would ever be deemed less than what you are right now.
he wanted to hold you like the gross couples you both cringe at, he wants to take you out and have you dress pretty for him, he wants to show you off, he wants to call you those petnames you’ve always wanted to be called. he wants you to be his and to be called yours.
nishimura riki wanted everything and almost all of you.
and no matter how cheesy it sounds, he wants it all at once.
maybe it was how the sun sets in the horizon or the breeze that blows your hair astray or that stupid laugh that somehow sounds like his favorite song or slamming of his heart that he can hear pounding in his ears—that somehow just makes him forget the lines he shouldn’t cross.
“stop looking at me like that.” your voice takes him out of his reverie. maybe he has been so lost in his head, he didn’t even notice you have stopped rambling about your weekend.
the air shifts almost as if the world just got a little smaller and the bubble you both share just felt suffocating—pressuring even.
he tilts he head quizzically, “what do you mean?”
“i don’t know...” you muttered.
you know it, you know it is there—that feeling you have been trying to avoid. the feeling you have tried so hard to bury, to ignore or to even acknowledge. because why would you? why would you entertain these estranged feelings when there is uncertainty to the answer to its question?
ni-ki has never been more afraid of whatever is next to come out of your lips. he can’t speak, you have rendered him worried. your words almost feel like a rose that might hurt him by its thorns or the petals that fall just the same that bloomed from his chest. he waits for you to continue in anticipation, his hands were clammy, the increasing pace of his heart was so loud, he hopes that you can’t hear it.
you took a short breath, almost as if you were being robbed of it at this moment, like you cannot breathe, “...you look at me as if you want me.”
my god, you aren’t wrong, ni-ki thinks now.
and when you don’t hear any response from his it compels you to fill the silence that consumes everything in your soul.
“you look at me as if you want to kiss me and i don—”
“—i do.” he answers almost all too immediately, his brain going haywire. and that was all there it was.
“what? stop messing around, ni-ki.”
what.. is this real? nishimura riki, the same boy who kept teasing you back in grade school likes you? riki, the boy who held out his hand to you when you slipped on the stairs while delivering some stupid papers to your teacher. ni-ki, the boy who would always carry you on his back on the way home just because you want to. the boy who have pinky promise you for life when you were six, the same boy you have been crushing on, likes you back.
nishimura riki, your best friend of a decade just admitted he wants to kiss you—more than normal friends do.
he breathes out, mustering up the courage, “i mean it, idiot. i have been for so long.” he says matter of factly, “..so, can i?”
he likes likes you that way.
“please—”
that was the word he only needed and he closes the distance as quickly as he can. oh how sweet your lips were, depravity—your lips almost felt like he had been depraved all of these years. it was sweet, tingling and fleeting. but he was happy nonetheless, it was not how the movies go, but it just the way he would have you everytime.
so please, take his heart and use it as much as you will. because he did promise you before to devote everything he has.
+ extra.
“who even confesses and calls their crush an idiot!” you huffed.
“i do and that’s because you’re an idiot.” he pokes your forehead playfully. “i was dropping hints everywhere and you couldn’t see it.”
“what hints, riki? oh my god, did you think staring at me like that was flirting?”
he couldn’t answer or think of an excuse to that.
ᰔ — likes & reblogs are always highly appreciated! i hope i did ni-ki some justice T^T
#enhypen x reader#niki x reader#riki x reader#riki nishimura x reader#nishimura riki#enhypen riki#enhypen niki#enhypen#ni-ki x reader
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I’ll be writing a critique of the way Blitzø and Stolas’ relationship was handled more at length, but I wanted to stop and take a moment to look at this scene from the new episode, “Full Moon”:
This is the sort of power and control that Stolas has always had over Blitzø.
It does not matter that Stolas has never threatened to take away the Grimoire before, or that they were “friends” as kids, or that he offered Blitzø a few months off, or that he’s been nice to Blitzø in the past, or that Blitzø actually does have feelings for Stolas.
When you are in a situation where you cannot say no at the risk of losing your livelihood, you cannot give true consent.
This is the very BASIS of their relationship. It has always been the basis of their relationship—a quid pro quo relationship where Stolas holds all of the power.
I have seen countless people go over and explain in great detail why the full moon deal was not truly coercive, or a quid pro quo situation, or how it was completely consensual.
And it’s just not. It is sexual coercion where Blitzø cannot give meaningful consent. Because if he refuses Stolas, he’s at risk of losing everything.
I want to clarify that my criticism here isn’t with this writing decision. I’m not trying to say anything along those the lines of “because this fictional character did a bad thing the story is bad and people who like the character support sexual coercion!!” That’s not what I’m saying at all.
I am bringing all of this up because my criticism is not of this writing decision, but because of the framing of the Full Moon deal and of Stolas and Blitzø’s relationship.
The narrative often frames Blitzo as if he is the one who has wronged Stolas by not prioritizing Stolas’ feelings and needs above all else. Or, it frames both Stolas and Blitzo as being equally in the wrong for the conflicts in their “relationship”.
This framing, and the extent to which fans try to justify it as being ANYTHING other than what it actually is—Stolas coercing Blitzø into a relationship where he has no power and is at the risk of losing his livelihood—is baffling to me.
This framing, coupled with the writer’s absolute refusal to ever have Stolas held accountable for his actions (including Stolas still not actually apologizing for the situation he put Blitzø into—he acknowledges that the relationship being transactional is wrong, but does not acknowledge that he was wrong to coerce Blitzø into that relationship. He says “…it isn’t right…it never was”, not “What I did wasn’t right, and never was”) is why I can’t consider St0litz to be just a “complex” or “messy” relationship.
It don’t think it can be, because it’s not a relationship. Not a real one. It’s a transaction, where Stolas treats Blitzø like a sex object. And whether that was the intent or not, Blitzø’s reaction above and saying that he would do anything to keep the grimoire makes it really hard for me to see St0litz in any other light.
As a final note, I’m not saying that you can’t write dark relationships, or have complex and unsympathetic protagonists. You can ship whatever you want! You can have characters that sexually coerce and abuse others, you can write every dark and twisted thing your mind can come up with.
But it’s very clear that Helluva Boss’s writers want to frame Stolas as being the wronged party, and the one who we are supposed to sympathize with—and you just can’t have it both ways.
You can’t act like you’re writing a complex love story between two very complicated and real people, when the relationship that you’re describing is so utterly one-sided and unbalanced.
#funhouse convo#media criticism#media critique#helluva boss critical#helluva boss critique#helluva boss criticism#media conversation#I feel like if hardcore fans of St0litz see this#they will say that blitz wasn’t afraid of losing the book but afraid of losing Stolas#and like. that’s a fine interpretation if that’s what you want to believe#and I’m sure they’ll say I’m ‘media illiterate’ for my interpretation#but media literacy isn’t looking at the writers intent first and making that intent fit into what’s been written#it’s analyzing everything that’s been written and portrayed in the context of a story#and coming to your own conclusions from that#and it’s about a whole bunch of other shit man idk#i’m just very tired#stolitz critical
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manège | k.th
pairing: Taehyun x gender neutral!reader
genre: fluff, a little angst and comfort, ballet dancer!taehyun and pianist!reader
warnings: n/a
word count: 1.4k
notes:
— this pairing's been on my mind for a good year or so, so I'm very happy to have finally written something for them :) please note that I've only been doing ballet for a couple years now, so if I've used any terms incorrectly, I'm very sorry!
— for some clarification, mc and taehyun go to an arts school, and mc volunteers as one of the pianists for the ballet studio
Taehyun finds his way back to you, again.
TXT Masterlist
manège: a classical ballet term for “circular,” which describes a series of steps done in a circular pattern around the stage
. . . . .
"...Taehyun?"
The question of his name is quiet enough that if he hadn't noticed the opening of the door in the corner of the mirror, he would have missed it. As it stands, his mind barely processes your voice emerging from behind the door, and it takes a moment to shake off the double tours and pirouettes before he can even recognize the face appearing in the mirror. He blinks sweat away from his eyes. "Y/N?"
"It's late," you say, stepping into the empty studio. "You're still practicing?"
As one, you both look at the clock hanging on the wall. It's long past eight, when Taehyun initially told himself he'd stop—long past nine, even.
Suddenly all of the exhaustion of the day seems to hit him at once. His muscles ache, sweat keeps dripping down his face no matter how much he wipes away, and there's a small but consistent flare of pain in his calf that he should really stop and massage out. Really, he wants nothing more than to just sit down against the wall, or maybe even flop onto the floor and stare at the ceiling while seeing nothing at all. He's been here since eight in the morning and his body clearly knows it.
"Yeah," is all he says in lieu of articulating all of this, though, because his throat feels gravelly and words are hard. "What are you doing here?" he asks instead. It's at least as fair of a question for you as yours was for him.
"I had class," you say. Taehyun takes in your leggings, the loose T-shirt almost covering your shorts, and remembers yes, there was a lower-level class held almost immediately after you got off your shift. "I stayed after to practice."
He frowns. "For almost five hours?" You were playing the piano for his company class until it ended at three. Your adult beginner class ends at four thirty, and it's past nine.
"Not ballet." You shift the weight of several books in your arms, and only then does Taehyun see their worn paper bindings, the music markings on the covers, and remember that people practice things besides dance. "Evaluations coming up. There was a free piano in one of the empty studios."
Ah. Taehyun nods. And then the room falls into silence again, broken only by the sounds of your breathing.
"So." You walk to the empty piano in the room, placing your books on the top before looking at him expectantly. "What are you working on?"
It takes him a moment to register your words, to understand that you're not telling him to leave or go home or get some rest. All of which he should do, but the looming specter of the showcase next week won't let him. "You're not going to tell me to go home and rest?" he asks regardless, and even though his throat squeaks a bit after spending so many hours in silence, you don't laugh. Not at that, anyway.
"Well, would you have gone home if I'd said you should?" you reply, raising an eyebrow. He shakes his head and a smile curves his lips when you give a little laugh. "See?"
"Point taken," he says, and when you laugh again he laughs too. "Grand Pas Classique," he answers your original question. "For the showcase. Next week."
Your mouth parts in a little 'o'. "This one?" you ask, playing out a short melody. He nods. "Can I see?"
He should. He shouldn't. He at once wants to but doesn't, wants to let the melody sing in his blood as he double tours and entrechats around the room, spinning and leaping across the floor, but he also knows that you're here. And if Taehyun is his own harshest critic, he becomes even harsher when someone else is in the room.
You look at him, though, and he looks at you, and he knows that you see him for himself. See the sweaty hair matted into clumps, see the muscles aching behind his skin, see the work put into every effortlessly pointed toe and graceful finger as he takes his beginning position in front of the mirror. And when the music begins to play, the melody spilling into his ears and then into his blood, he looks into the mirror and smiles not because he has to, but because your watchful eyes will never hold judgment. Will never hold disappointment. Will only ever see him, see Taehyun Kang the person and not Taehyun Kang the dancer, and will cherish him for it.
When he's done, the applause of one person cuts through the labored silence of his breathing, and it's enough to keep the smile on his face, to let his muscles finally relax, to wipe the sweat from his brow and sit down. Or—not really. He's still a little too wired to sit, but he leans against the wall of the studio and gestures to where you sit at the piano like it's the most natural position in the world, ready to play but not. "Show me something," he says when he has enough breath to speak. "What are you working on?"
There's a moment when you're flipping through your books, skimming pages filled with music and your careful notes, where Taehyun loses himself, for a moment, in you. When you squint at a few pages, then put the book back on top of the piano, then position yourself at the keys. The preparation—the careful placement of your fingers just as deliberate as his pointed toes and graceful hands—the moment where time holds still, before you give in to the song in your mind and your heart and allow the music to flow through your veins.
It all comes back to you, Taehyun thinks as your fingers waltz and whirl across the keys, dance in enchanting patterns of black and white. From him, to you, back to him and then to you again—in manège, arabesques and jetés leaping about the stage, coming away from the center only to reach it again the way everything always returns to you. Your voice, your music, always there. Always constant. Pulling him back to earth when he threatens to topple over the edge, never once wavering in your strength or patience even when you see the worst parts of him over and over.
He's sitting down by the time you stop playing, fingers gentle yet unyielding against the piano, coaxing a last, wavering echo from its depths before your hands rise, suspended in the air, then fall to your lap. When you look up, the fluorescent studio lights seem to burn your figure into his vision, like the afterimage of a lightning strike behind his eyes. "That was beautiful," he says, and he means it in more ways than one.
And you accept the praise in more ways than one, in the smile on your lips, in the twinkle in your eyes, in the moment where you sit down next to him, back against the wall, and let him lean his sweaty head on your shoulder with no complaint about how gross it must feel. "Thank you," you say, and when you do, the melody racing through his veins finally calms.
It's almost ten, now, the clock still ticking away on the wall. But you make no move to get up and neither does Taehyun, even when you murmur "Home?" in a voice that only makes him lean further into you, even when he makes a noise of agreement in the back of his throat. In the end, it takes nearly twenty minutes for you to finally pat his knee and say get up, Taehyun. And then he disappears to change and wash up and collect his things, and maybe in the shower he can feel himself beginning to fade away again, but then you're standing right outside the locker room and when he slips his hand into yours, he comes back to earth. Manège. Circling you, always. Leaving. Returning. Orbiting. Joining.
Music dancing through his blood and yours, a song that he will always be able to follow back home.
Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed this, and have a lovely day :)
#txt#tomorrow x together#tomorrow by together#txt taehyun#taehyun#kang taehyun#taehyun scenarios#taehyun imagines#taehyun fluff#taehyun angst#txt angst#txt fluff#txt scenarios#tomorrow x together scenarios#taehyun oneshots#taehyun x reader#txt x reader#taehyun fanfic#taehyun au#txt taehyun x reader#fluff#angst#ballet dancer!au#manège#blossom-hwa
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I dont know if you make part two of stuff but it would rlly be great if u could make a part two of “sweet escape” ><
thank you, anon, for the request!! i'm glad you liked part one and i hope you'll like part two as well! this comes kinda late but i was very busy with my studies the past weeks so i apologize, but i hope this was the wait! <3
_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐 - 𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐤𝐢
best friend!riki x fem!reader
genre: fluff & comfort
warnings: mentions of cheating, swear words (bitch)
word count: ~1k
↝ part 1 | ↝ dazzlingjaeyun's bookshelf
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you had lost track of the time you spent on that bench together - but time didn't matter. what mattered was that you felt okay. like you always did with riki.
after some more time, riki decided to take you home, claiming it was getting too late and he didn't want your parents to realize you basically sneaked out.
.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡
"riki?", you asked, your tone careful as you looked up at him with doe eyes.
"hmm?"
you fiddled with your fingers. "can you stay here? i don't want to be alone...", you confessed, the volume of your voice decreasing with each word you spoke.
riki bit down on his bottom lip, seemingly trying to find a reply.
"i don't think that's a good idea", he said. he felt bad for turning you down. but despite being your best friend for a long time, he didn't feel in the position to sleep over. not anymore, not now that you had a boyfriend. one that was already way too jealous, riki thought. he couldn't care less what your boyfriend thought about him, but he didn't want anything to get back to you.
you let out a short sigh, but you understood him and his motive without any verbal explanation. yet, you felt somewhat scared of how your feelings that you had successfully shoved away would hit you once you'd be alone. so you tried again.
"at least until i fell asleep?"
riki gave in, understanding that all you needed in that very moment was someone's company. although deep down, a tiny part of him wished it was specifically his company that you craved.
he waited until you laid down and sat on the floor next to your bed, facing you. you tucked yourself in your blanket and riki, for the second time that night, put a strand of hair behind your ear.
"good night, y/n" he so softly that it almost came out as a whisper.
you just hummed in response and closed your eyes, the exhaustion of crying for so many hours before taking over your body now that you were warm and comfortable in bed.
after some minutes, riki heard you breathing more evenly, signaling that you had fallen asleep. yet, he hesitated to get up.
instead, he remained seated on the floor, put his arms on your mattress and laid head on his hands so both your faces were only some centimeters apart.
your demeanor seemed so peaceful now that you were asleep and that alone almost warmed riki's heart. he fought the urge to stroke away the strand of hair that fell over your face again, not daring to touch you and risking waking you up.
only as he felt his eyes getting heavy, he slowly and carefully lifted his head from the mattress and stood up from the floor. he gave you one last smile before tiptoeing to the window to go back home.
.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡
days later, you told riki why you had cried so bitterly that night. it wasn't really on purpose, the words rather slipped out of your mouth during your daily catch up call.
you didn't know what you expected when you accidentally told him that you had caught your boyfriend with another girl only hours before the video call that night. however, him hanging up on you in the middle of your sentence was definitely not what you expected.
around half an hour later, you heard a knock on your door, to which you just muttered an indifferent "come in".
the door opened to reveal no one other than your best friend. again unexpected after he had hung up so suddenly.
he was carrying a small bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. before you could even open your mouth to ask, he cut you off.
"please tell me you broke up with him", he said sternly, as he walked into your room, past your bed and to your nightstand.
"that's what i was telling you. you'd know if you hadn't hung up on me mid sentence!", you replied, crossing your arms.
"what are you doing anyways?", you asked, dropping your attitude and now rather showing confusion, as you saw riki taking a picture frame from your nightstand.
"you still have this picture of the two of you here. i think it's time to get rid of his annoying face", he replied, his attention on the picture frame. he opened it, took out the photo and instead placed the piece of paper he had brought inside.
after he closed the frame and put it back to it's place, you could see what the piece of paper was; a small drawing, again of your favorite flowers.
riki handed you the bouquet before sitting next to you on your bed.
"these are for you... sort of as a cheer up? and when they're wilted, you have a mini version of them here", he said while pointing to the drawing on your nightstand, "these will stay with you"
"i'm sorry for what you had to go through. i know these won't turn back time and they won't change what happened, but...", he hesitated, "i want their beauty to remind you of your own. you're a beautiful person with a beautiful soul and you never deserved any of this"
you felt your heart warming and tears pooling in your eyes as you pouted at the gesture and his words.
riki gave you a soft smile and patted your head carefully.
"i'll make him regret hurting you. and i promise i'll take better care of you from now on"
you slowly shook your head.
"it's not your fault he's a bitch", you replied, which made riki chuckle a little. "thank you for all of this, really"
"anything for you", he replied. like he did so many times. when it came to you, that would always be his reply, no questions asked.
"i'll make up for all the effort you always put into everything, i promise"
this time, he shook his head. "no need to", he smiled as he pulled you into a hug. "i like being your sweet escape"
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thank you so much for reading up until here and special thanks for the request!! it means the entire world to me and i hope you guys enjoyed it. please do not copy. ❤︎︎
feel free to leave feedback & interact!
- dazzlingjaeyun
#enhypen#enhypen au#engene#enha x reader#enhypen x reader#enhypen niki#niki x reader#nishimura riki#enhypen fluff
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