[blushandfics]

below is all my important stuff! ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

FANDOMS. thg. obx. the office. sw. dc.

REQUESTS. are OPEN! please send me any ideas you may have

MASTERLIST. can be found here ౨ৎ

RULES. please consider reading here before interacting

minors please don’t interact ♡

i know i can’t control what you do, but these are my boundaries—please respect them! if not, i’ll have to block you.

[blushandfics]

FRAGMENTS OF LIGHT ⋆˚ ✶｡

you sit on the cold marble floor of the jedi temple’s outer hall, legs pulled close to your chest, watching the sun bleed through the stained glass windows. it paints colors on your skin, but you barely notice because your mind is stuck somewhere else.

a soft shuffle beside you catches your attention, and you glance over to see anakin sliding down to sit next to you. he leans back on his hands, staring up at the ceiling like he’s searching for something in the high arches. “i didn’t expect to find you here,” he says.

you shift slightly, keeping your gaze on the way the sun cuts through the stained glass. “just thinking.” his grin deepens at that. “that’s a dangerous pastime for a jedi.”

you glance at him, unsure if he’s teasing or not, “what makes you say that?” he shrugs, casual. “thinking leads to questions. questions lead to wanting. wanting…” his voice trails, almost as if he was daring you to finish the thought.

you let the silence stretch before answering. “well maybe it depends on what you’re wanting.”

“maybe,” he says, “sometimes it feels as if they want us to be perfect — always.” you hum softly in agreement. “perfection’s a lot of pressure.”

“pressure,” he repeats, tasting a bitter word. “sometimes it feels like a cage.” you tilt your head slightly, watching him from the corner of your eye. “a cage?”

his gaze shifts to you, but he doesn’t answer right away. “rules. the code. all the things we’re told we can’t do.” his voice is calm, but there’s something under it, something heavier. “they make it sound like that’s the only way to be a good jedi.”

“isn’t it?” you ask, keeping your tone light, though you feel the weight of his stare. he leans back, the faintest hint of a smile at his lips. “maybe. but i believe… we lose something when we stop letting ourselves feel.”

you look away, your eyes following the way the colored light shifts across the floor. “feelings give an opening for clouded judgment.”

he studies you for a long moment. “or make it stronger,” he counters, voice low. “make you fight harder for what matters.” you glance back at him, catching the way his eyes linger — too intense for casual conversation. “and what matters to you, anakin?”

“freedom,” he says after a beat, “to choose, to protect, to love without fear.” you chew on his words, letting the silence stretch before answering.

“and what happens if you cross the line? what happens if you break the rules?” his eyes darken, “sometimes you lose yourself. sometimes you find something new. maybe it’s worth the risk.”

the silence settles between you, thick and electric, the light from the stained glass pulsing like a heartbeat on your skin. no need for words — you both feel it, the weight of what’s coming, the fragile pull of something unspoken.

you watch the way his eyes catch the light, and for a moment, you realize this isn’t just about rules or fear anymore. it’s the beginning of something. something that could break you or make you whole.

i was so desperate to get something out </3 so i wrote this rushed it’s def not my fav so im sorryyyy but if you liked it please please give me feedback! ty ♡

[rafesangelita]

if ur doing reqs, i’d love to see the first time bitchy!pogue!reader meets boyfriend’s!dad!rafe 🤎

♡ — HOW YOU AND BFD!RAFE FIRST MET…

warnings: boyfriend’sdad!rafe, sex work (!reader is a stripper), mentions of reader being in a toxic relationship (arguing, verbal abuse, destruction of personal property, etc..), reader kinda zones out a little bit??, age gap, heavy petting (?), suggestive language + ending

a/n: boyfriend’sdad!rafe x bitchy!pogue!reader official au and masterlist can be found here ! hugeee thank you to this anon who sent in this request, i had been wanting to write more of this pairing but was stumped for ideas, so ty ty ty!! also— how do we like this fic set up?? i think i could get used to this..

word count: 1.5k

“be late one more time and you’re getting cut.”

you didn’t even bother to spare your sleazy boss a single glance as you blinked away his empty threat, your fingers working to take the pink rollers out of your hair as kitty snickered in the corner of the locker room. “you say that every single time, randy, and yet i’m the one who’s always on the schedule!” you reminded him, already feeling the familiar sense of dread pooling in your stomach as you dolled yourself up to go out and socialize with icky patrons. randy sent you a death glare before slamming the door shut, a series of cackles immediately ringing out in the air as the rest of the girls continued getting ready.

“did you see the way his vein was popping out of his neck?” brushing on some body glitter, you shook your head as kitty walked over to you and leaned against the vanity table. “yeah, but i don’t care. i’ve been telling him i don’t have a phone right now so i can’t call up here and let him know why i’ll be late for my shift.” you sighed, putting on a few accessories before spritzing your favorite perfume. “what happened with your phone?” kitty asked, arching a brow once she saw the way your face fell at her question. “nothing.. it just broke.” you shrugged, the images of your narcissistic boyfriend shattering the damned thing now popping up in your memory.

“it just broke, or someone broke it?” lying to kitty would be useless, she was the only person that could see right through your glamorous front of rhinestones and bling, and see you for who you really were at your core; a girl who just wanted to be taken care of with a jerk for a boyfriend. you stayed silent for a few moments, swallowing hard to keep your voice from shaking. “i’ll catch you up on the details later.” you whispered, getting up from your chair and interlocking your arm with kitty’s as you two walked out of the locker room and down the long hallway that lead to the main club floor.

considering it was a week night, you weren’t surprised when you looked around and saw that the lounge was relatively dead. “i’m so happy we don’t have to be on stage tonight, i hate dancing for a small crowd.” you hummed in agreement, both of you scanning the room for any potential spenders. “you see any of your regulars?” she asked, already spotting one of her own sitting by himself at the bar. “no, my regulars usually come by a little later,” you sighed in relief, “i’m gonna go make myself look available. ‘meet me afterwards?” with a nod, you and kitty went your separate ways.

taking a seat at one of the center tables, you adjusted the hem of your dress and preoccupied yourself with your compact mirror and lipgloss. there was only so much money one could make on a slow night, and while you knew it wasn’t worth the effort showing up, you needed whatever you could get your hands on right now. it only took a few minutes before you saw a tall figure approaching you from out of the corner of your eye, your mouth going dry as soon as you looked up at the man in question, a face that you felt eerily familiar with staring back at you.

“you don’t really look like a whiskey girl,” he spoke up, his voice sending a swarm of butterflies to flutter in your chest, “a girly drink looks more like your forte.” you swallowed thickly, snapping out of your trance as you accepted the overdressed strawberry margarita he placed in front of you. his eyes. you could’ve sworn you stared into a pair just like that before. “sorry if this is rude, but have we met?” you couldn’t help but ask, your gaze running all the way down his broad shoulders to his hands. you immediately noticed the gold ring on his index finger, an expensive watch also adorning his wrist as he shook his head.

“as much as i wish to have met you sooner, this is my first time here.” he cleared his throat, taking the view of you in. freshly styled hair, sparkly makeup, glossy lips.. you looked so much more stunning up close. smiling at his words, you decided you needed to work your magic if you wanted to get something out of this interaction. leaning in closer, you slowly wrapped your lips around your straw, the man’s eyes following the action. his pupils dilated upon seeing you lick the sugar from the rim of your glass, his mind already traveling to other places as you pulled away.

“thank you for the drink..?” picking up on your questionable tone, he was quick to answer. “rafe.” he extended a hand out to you, in which you accepted. your skin felt so soft and warm against his own, rafe rubbed a tender thumb over the back of of your palm before bringing you up to his lips. you refrained from showing him how much the delicate way he kissed your knuckles affected you, your cheeks heating as he stroked your finger. for the first time, you didn’t know how to start the conversation between you two, so you just settled for introducing yourself— giving him a fake name the way you did to every man you spoke to in the club.

rafe knew you were just doing your job by sitting in front of him and looking pretty, but he felt like you were so much more than what you were displaying right now. “so what brought you all way down here to pink sugar? you don’t look like you’re from the cut.” rafe was taken aback by how fast you read him, his eyebrows raising in surprise as you laughed at his reaction. “what makes you think that?” he shot back, his eyes briefly flickering down to your exposed cleavage. “besides the watch and the ring, you said it was your first time coming here.. and pretty much every man who lives on the cut has been here at least once.” you explained.

rafe hummed, nodding in understanding as the neon lights strobed over your figure. “the country club gets boring,” he shrugged, “plus, a pretty thing like you is just what i need.” rafe reached over and gently grabbed your wrist, your heart skipping a beat as he guided you on top of his lap. he smelled like expensive cologne and aftershave, and his hands were so large on your thighs, you couldn’t believe how nervous you were getting with having him in close proximity. “is this okay?” he spoke low, stroking your flesh as you blinked up at him from under your eyelashes.

“mhmm..” you were trying to play it off as smoothly as you can, but it was deemed worthless once he shifted your weight and pulled your dress down so no one else could see what you were wearing underneath. you weren’t naive, and you definitely knew better than to think he was being protective, but something about him felt different. “so you think i’m pretty?” you smiled, fishing for just about anything to make you feel like you were in control again. rafe thumbed your chin the same way your boyfriend used to, his eyes fixing on your lips before he moved a lock of hair out of your face.

“you’re gorgeous, really.” even rafe’s voice sounded like his— the reminder only making you lose focus on the man in front of you. ray had been really mean lately, and you couldn’t understand why. being purposely late to drop you off and pick you up from work, the constant slut shaming, the once petty arguments you two used to have now turned into complete screaming matches that usually ended with him destroying something. the most recent argument lead to him shattering your phone on the pavement, and just before that he had destroyed all of your makeup before apologizing and buying you everything again.

it was exhausting.

“why are you looking at me like that?” rafe cleared his throat, his eyebrows knitting in confusion as he dragged you out of your thoughts. “you just look like someone i know.” you shook your head, taking a much needed sip from your drink that you had since long forgotten about. at your words, rafe paused. for a fleeting moment, he thought about his son. you two looked like you were in the same age group, but to his knowledge, his son strictly stayed on figure eight. the chances of him knowing you had to be nonexistent.. or so rafe thought.

“anyways!” you chirped, quickly changing the topic, “how about a private dance? it’ll cost you a bit, but we’ll be by ourselves..” you motioned towards the bouncer who was standing in front of the hallway where the private rooms were. “are you gonna make it worthwhile?” a shiver ran down your spine when rafe’s fingers inched higher up your thigh. feigning offense, you gasped softly. “pay and you’ll find out.” studying you for a moment, rafe eyed you as you stroked over his pocket where his wallet was. rafe knew once he downed the rest of his drink and let you drag him towards the back by the buckle of his belt, that from this point forward he was going to be visiting you every chance he could get.

[blushandfics]

why have i barely seen this </3 anyways love love

[blushandfics]

CLOSE TO YOU ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

“okay, careful with the flour, sweet girl.” martha’s voice is warm and gentle. you bite your lip and nod, trying your best to fold the dough without sending clouds of white dust everywhere. the kitchen smells like cinnamon and vanilla, and sunlight streams in through the windows, catching dust motes that float lazily in the warm air.

clark stands nearby, leaning casually against the doorframe, watching you with that easy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. his eyes are full of something soft and protective, making your heart flutter like it’s trying to catch up with itself.

“need a hand?” he offers quietly, stepping over beside you. before you can even say yes, his big hands are warm and steady around yours, guiding your movements with practiced gentleness. the heat from his palms seeps through your skin and you flush a little deeper, chest tightening pleasantly from the quiet comfort of him so close.

“you’re doing great,” he murmurs, his breath brushing against your ear. you swallow the happy lump in your throat, trying not to get lost too lost in him.

martha hums happily from the stove, her hands expertly pulling a fresh batch of cookies from the oven. the smell is rich and sweet, wrapping around the room like a warm hug. you can’t resist dipping a finger into the sticky dough, tasting it swiftly — sweet and buttery with a hint of cinnamon — and clark catches the movement.

“flour’s for baking, not licking, bug.” he teases softly, thick with amusement as he shakes his head but doesn’t pull away.

you pout at him, but before you can say anything, he’s leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to your nose — flour and all. you giggle, the sound light and airy, blending perfectly with the quiet warmth filling around the kitchen.

“just wait till you taste these,” martha calls from the stove, sliding a plate of golden, steaming cookies across the counter.

you lean against clark, letting yourself relax in the curve of his body, the steady thump of his heart under your cheek. he snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer.

“thank you,” you gleam as you rest your head on his chest.

the three of you settle into a quiet rhythm — martha chatting about the garden, clark’s dad sharing stories, and you, you don’t say much. you simply let yourself soak it all in — the warmth, the love, the way clark’s hand never leaves yours, you’re wrapped up in the simple happiness of being here, with him, where everything feels like it’s exactly as it should be… ♡

[blushandfics]

placing tags for interaction ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶꒱ა

who do i write for next?

finnick odair x reader

clark kent x reader

bruce wayne x reader

Voting ended onAug 8, 2025

[blushandfics]

LESSON LEARNED ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა

warnings: mdni — explicit smut, p in v, unprotected sex, possessive!rafe, jealousy fueled sex, dom!rafe, degradation, dumbification, cock drunk reader, creampie, overstimulation, manhandling, rough handling, mean!rafe, heavy power dynamics, no plot just filth.

you didn’t mean to set him off.

it was nothing, really — a harmless laugh at something one of the boys from the country club said. you didn’t even pay any notice to the shift in rafe’s face at first. not until his jaw locked up, and not until his arm slid heavy around your waist like some sort of a leash.

but it doesn’t matter, not really. not when you still let him manhandle you down with your cheek pressed to the pillow, your skin hot and damp with tears, body aching in that way that makes you feel fucked stupid. it’s a good kind of ache, though. the kind you crave, the stretch not leaving your bones when he plows himself inside, splitting you open.

you’re on all fours on his bed, knees burning against the comforter, head hanging low as your legs shake when you try to adjust, digging for some stability when he’s already hitting every spot he knows makes you twitch.

“stay right there,” he mutters behind you, a breathless scrape of command. you feel the sweat trickling down your spine, chest heaving where it’s pressed into the sheets. “not done with you yet.”

your mouth falls open in a silent cry when his fingers tighten around your hips, sure to leave bruises. there’s nothing sweet about the way he’s holding you. nothing gentle — still so pissed.

his hand drags up your spine slow, heavy, like he’s claiming you with the weight of his palm. and maybe he is — maybe he’s making sure you feel it, the way his anger settles into every inch of your body, the way he doesn’t let up even when your thighs twitch from overuse.

you roll your head to the side a bit more, desperate to catch a glimpse of him, your lips parted, eyes glassy. you’re gone for him, and he knows it — but he’s not done, not until he drives the lesson in deep.

“you think… he’d ever make you sound like this? huh? think he’d ever have you this sloppy? get you crying like this, shit.” he ruts.

drool slips from the corner of your mouth, and all that comes out is a cracked little sob. you can’t even tell what you’re saying — your mouth just moves, soft and slurred and so dumb, chasing the words like they’re hiding from you. “no— no, never, rafey!”

his teeth flash in a grin behind you — sharp, smug and cruel. “yeah,” he bites, chest hot and sticky on your back as he keeps you caged in. “that’s what i thought.”

you feel the bed rock, the headboard knocking violently against the wall, the sound blurring into a dizzy rhythm that matches the white noise rush in your ears. your hands claw uselessly at the sheets, any semblance of strength gone.

“please,” you whimper, all cracked and needy, but you don’t even know what you’re begging for, simply trying to tether you to something real while he pounds you into the mattress.

it’s filthy, loud and wet and thick, and your face burns as he groans, so deep and low in his throat it sounds like he’s proud of you. “please what, huh? you want me to stop?”

“no,” you sob quickly, a pathetic little mewl. he fucks you impossibly deeper at that, rewarding you for the answer.

“yeah, fuckin’ love this, huh?” he shakes his head in amusement, light but mean. “all soaked and cryin’— yeah, i feel this pussy.” he spits low, one hand slipping up under your ribs to pull your chest back just slightly, just to hold you a little closer as he ruins you.

your mouth opens, soundless at first, then a high, shattered “uh-huhhh,” slips past your lips. “jus’ you, just you,” you slur, back arching as he knocks into that sweet spot so deep it makes your toes curl, a lewd squelch echoing in the room. you’re so wet it’s obscene, every grind of his hips making a noise that would humiliate you if you weren’t already so far gone.

“listen to that,” he laughs, “pussy so wet it’s talkin’ for you.” your moans are getting higher, — no rhythm, just choking little cries that stutter out of your mouth every time he thrusts in.

his hand slips under you, fingers rubbing your clit mean and fast. your whole body jerks — a sharp cry ripping from your throat as your knees buckle again.

“r-rafe—!” it’s almost a wail, cracking halfway through when he doesn’t let up, pads of his fingers catching slick over swollen flesh, the motion relentless. your legs won’t hold, hips squirming to get away from the pressure even though it’s everything you need.

but his grip is locked around your waist, pinning you. each tight swirl sends sparks shooting through your belly, coiling harder and harder. he watches you crumble with a dark, heady look in his eye.

your thighs seize, cunt clenching and fluttering around him, pulsing fast and hot. “oh— rafe— can’t,—”

“that’s it,” he hisses, fucking you right through it, pace stuttering as you clamp down on him so tight it steals the breath from his lungs. “god damn, baby— feel that? fuckin’— yeah, this pussy’s all mine.”

you collapse fully into the sheets, body trembling, eyes unfocused as his hips stutter. it’s messy now, desperate, the sound of it even filthier as your cunt creams around him. “fuck,” rafe chokes, harsh as his grip turns bruising again, his thrusts going ragged. “so fuckin’ tight— gonna— shit.”

you feel him spill deep inside, thick and hot, his whole body pressed over yours as he lets it out, “goddamn, baby…” he breathes hard against your back.

he stays there for a long moment — chest heaving, cock still twitching inside you. one hand fists in the comforter beside your head, the other smoothing down your spine now, slow and possessive.

the bed dips under his weight when he finally moves to your side, and his hand finds your back again, “bet you won’t laugh at him again,” he mutters, not quite serious — a faint smirk tugging at his lips when he pulls out, a mixture of your and his spend oozing out slow and thick. you whimper at the loss, hips tilting slightly.

it drips lazily, slick and warm down your thighs, and his eyes drag over it like he’s trying to burn the sight into his brain. you let out a hazy giggle, burying your face in the crook of his arm when he shifts closer. “mmm… dunno rafey, like the way it feels after…”

he huffs a laugh against your temple, hand sweeping down your spine slow, possessive. “shit,” he says, more to himself than you. “like that part too.” .. ♡

[blushandfics]

i could cry you write ani so good

omg ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶꒱ა thank you so much!! kisses ♡

[blushandfics]

just wanna be on my knees pawing at ani's waistband while he's all manspreaded out preoccupied with something 😖

warnings: suggestive content, non-explicit intimacy, touching through clothing, reader on her knees between Anakin’s thighs, physical closeness, clingy behavior, emotional tension, begging/submissive behavior.

he’d been hunched over the edge of the bunk for a while now, elbows digging into his spread knees, hands busy with some half fried piece of ship scrap he’d sworn he could salvage. his brows are pinched, lower lip caught between his teeth.

you’d been on the bed, curled up watching him work, stare drifting down from the line of his throat to the broad spread of his shoulders. it wasn’t fair the way he’d sit. legs spread so easy, boots planted wide, all that space between his thighs just there.

it starts as a stupid impulse. you shift, sit up, pad over, bare knees sinking into the cool durasteel floor. you tell yourself you’re just gonna lean against his leg, maybe rest your head there, just be close. but then your palm slides up his thigh, heat seeping into your bones, and it feels too good — feels right in that deep, humiliating way you can’t explain.

“ani…” it barely makes the air move and your breath catches on it, cheeks already warm before you even do anything. you watch the slow flex of his thighs as he shifts. so close, so inviting.

he glances at you for a second before his jaw flexes and he flickers back to what he was doing, adjusting a wire, voice coming in distracted, “hi there, sweetheart.”

you swallow, your thumb brushing at the seam of his pants. “you’ve been busy a long time,” you say, almost sulky. your lashes lower, and your other hand drifts to his opposite thigh, splaying over the muscle there.

“just a few more minutes, my love,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper. “i’m almost finished.” you nod, but the motion’s small, distracted. your cheek sinks lower against the inside of his thigh, and your hand rests near the dip of his hip, thumb caught right on the seam of his waistband, and the longer you stay there, the harder it is to pretend you’re not begging.

the fabric of his pants is warm beneath your palm, worn soft from use. your fingertips twitch, unable to stay still as you begin to gently knead over the firm muscle of his thigh, dragging up again — not bold, not greedy, just restless.

“you’re so warm,” you whisper, barely audible. his hand drops from the scrap, clothed hand brushing over your shoulder — thumb lingering at the base of your neck. not stopping you, simply feeling you.

“just wanna be close,” you frown, voice barely there. his reply comes just as quiet, “aren’t you already?” he teases with a chuckle.

but it’s not close enough — at least to you. not when you can feel him, solid and too composed while your own palms tremble against the meat of his thighs, pressing higher, dragging slow.

your fingers trace the edge of his waistband now, bolder by a hair. you’re not sure what you’re asking for, only that you need something more. “ani.”

his thumb starts to move, lazy little strokes over your skin. “you’re clingy tonight, my love” he murmurs.

you don’t argue or deny. just press in closer, cheek nestled right between his thighs, your hands creeping higher like they’ve got a mind of their own. soft touches. subtle. but no less desperate.

your breath fans out across the front of his pants, warm and shaky, and you’re not even thinking anymore — just moving. letting instinct tug you in, letting the heat in your cheeks guide your mouth down where it’s been wanting to go.

it starts soft. just a slow, breathy drag of your mouth over the soft bulge, heat pooling in your belly the moment your lips meet the fabric. not a kiss. not even firm. just a little brush. a press. a want — your jaw going slack with it.

he makes a noise, low in his throat, restrained. but you feel his hand falter, scrap slipping loose from his grip, his other hand whitening around the object.

he stills. only a second. then there’s this sharp inhale through his nose, his hand tightening slightly where it rests on you. you feel the shift in his focus like a current.

his hand moves, not far, just enough to rest along the side of your face, thumb brushing your temple in a slow circle. his gaze is molten — soft and unreadable and too much at once. “you make it very hard to concentrate, sweetheart.”

“you told me,” you pause, batting your eyelashes, “that i could always ask for what i want.”

“i did,” he murmurs, quiet and fond. the piece of scrap slips from his hand a second later, clattering softly to the floor beside you. he doesn’t make an effort to look down at it. “and i meant it, come up here next to me.” … ♡

[blushandfics]

HOLD YOU ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა

warning: implied drug use, toxic relationship dynamics, emotional codependency, hurt/comfort, self loathing?, typical rafe stuff... let me know if you would like me to add more!

you were half watching reruns on the living room couch and chewing gummy bears one by one with lazy bites, when the door slams like a gunshot, loud and sudden. your hand freezes mid air, gummy bears sticking to your fingers. the air shifts. everything stills.

it rattles the frame, the sound hitting your chest like a bullet. he doesn’t say anything. not right away. just storms right past the living room and you, pacing back and forth like some sort of animal, trembling fingers digging into his hair like he was about to start clawing his own brain out.

“rafe?” you call, cautious and unsure. the way you always seemed to talk when he got like this.

no answer. just him, muttering under his breath, jaw clenching and teeth grinding when he stops his string of profanities about it all.. his father, his sister, and then the pogues.

you sit up slow, afraid if you moved too quickly you might spook him. suddenly you felt cold all over as you get up and round the corner. hesitantly, you follow the sound of his heavy breathing. “rafe?” you repeat.

he spins and turns around so fast it makes you flinch, breath catching in your throat — not necessarily because you were scared of him, no, not really. but because his eyes are wild and unreadable, pupils huge and blown out, darting everywhere like he can’t land on one single thought. he sniffs hard like his brain is trying to catch up with itself, stuck in fast forward.

you didn’t even have to ask. you already knew.

“you— you wanna know what he said to me?” his voice cuts in sharp, thick with venom. “you know what that— that bastard said?”

your heart drops as you blink slow, doll-like. you shake your head a little, “no.., what did he—”

he interrupts with a laugh— dark, sharp, nothing truly humorous about it. “he said i’m nothing without him. that i’ll fuck it all up like i always do. said i’m just.. just some kid with a fucking coke habit.” his voice cracks on the last word and your stomach twists unforgivingly.

you step closer, but he moves back. “don’t,” he snaps before immediately looking like he hates himself for it, rubbing his face.

“sorry, sorry.” he mutters. “just— fuck. i just— i’m not gonna let him win, okay? swear to god.” he scoffs, shaking his head and licking his lips.

you stand there in your fuzzy socks and sleep shirt, staring at him like he was still the boy you met last summer at the country club. like he was still the kook prince, even if his crown was cracked and rusted.

“i know,” you agree softly, because it’s the only thing you can bring yourself to say when your heart is hammering this much against your chest. “you won’t.”

his nose twitches before he looks up at at the ceiling in a way that makes you wonder whether was begging god or cursing him.

and then he was moving again, fast and desperate towards you. he grabs your face in both his hands, pressing his forehead to yours, anchoring himself there as if the whole world would go spinning off its axis. “you believe in me, right?” he breaks, wrecked. “you believe in me, right baby?”

your lip wobble instinctively. you loved when he called you that. like you were soft and sweet and dumb enough to stay even when the fire was already licking up your legs. “of course i do,” you sniff back, your eyes burning as your vision gets blurry.

his hands shake besides your cheeks, breath was all over your face. “i just— i just need him to shut the fuck up. just for one day. one fucking day where he doesn’t make me feel like— like i’m some fucking… stupid screw up who—”

you kiss him.

you don’t know what else to do.

you just kiss him like he wasn’t unraveling right in front of you — like he wasn’t making you nervous with how hard he was shaking. he kisses you back like it hurts. it was the only thing in the world keeping him from breaking into a million screaming pieces.

“you’re all i fucking have,” he whispers into your mouth. “if i lose you— if you leave me — i’ll… ill lose my fucking mind.” he grits.

you don’t know what to say. because, truthfully, what were you supposed to do with a boy like him? a boy who bleeds love and rage in the same breath. “you’re not gonna lose me,” you tremble, voice barely working. “i’m here.”

his eyes search yours, fierce and frantic. “say it again.” you swallow. “i’m here, rafe.”

“tell me you love me.”

“i do love you.”

“say it like you mean it.” he almost begs, nose brushing yours, needing to hear it straight from the center of your soul.

you were crying now. stupid, quiet tears. not because you were scared. but because he was breaking in real time, and you were trying to catch all the pieces.

you grab his face right back, thumbs sweeping over his skin gently, like a deer petting a wolf. “i love you,” you say again. “i love you so much rafe.”

his whole chest heaves, words having punched the air back into his lungs as he leans into your touch, starved for it.

and then..

he starts laughing.

he wipes at his mouth, grin twitching, eyes glossing over. “you love me,” he repeats, almost mocking it. “jesus. poor little baby.”

“rafe…”

he moves away suddenly, not being able to stand being seen anymore. “you shouldn’t,” he pauses before continuing, “you shouldn’t love me. i’m not— i’m not fucking safe. i’m not nice.”

you watch him go in circles like a ghost with nowhere to haunt.

“stop it,” you almost whimper. “i love you.”

and when he looks back at you, something behind his eyes are gone... shattered into something deeper. darker. rafe stared at you like you’d just handed him your heart.

like you were insane.

and maybe you were. maybe you were just another girl too in love with a boy who loved nothing but chaos.

“fuck,” he whispers.

and then he was on his knees in front of you, head pressing to your stomach as if he could physically crawl inside your skin just to hide from the weight of it all.

his arms wrap tight around your hips, bruising tight. but you don’t move, don’t tell him to get up or calm down.

you simply let him stay there. you weren’t blind to it, no. not the fire in his blood, not the sharp, cruel edge of his love. no, you knew it all already.

but maybe you were wired different too. maybe not in the same, loud, teeth baring way. but enough.

enough to stay.

enough to reassure , “i’ve got you,” like a spell.

just you and him.

forever.

i’ve posted this before then took it down but now it’s here again with some slight little changes >.< i hope you guys enjoy it and please as always reblog + give me feedback please! it really means a lot and motivates me to keep writing ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

[blushandfics]

AFTER HOURS ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

warnings: slight suggestive content at the end.

you finish work first. you try, at first, to be patient — curled up in clark’s oversized blazer, legs tucked under you, watching the lamplight catch on the frames of his glasses. the newsroom is quieter at night, but boredom still itches under your skin, and boredom always makes you restless. and restlessness, with clark this close, always turns soft and needy for attention.

you’d already been a bit of a handful earlier: grumbling about the late shift, whining that you were hungry, tapping your foot until clark finally ordered your favorite takeout without even asking. now your tummy’s warm, your eyelids a little heavy, and your hearts too full to sit still.

you scoot closer at first, draping yourself over the arm of his chair. but it isn’t enough — so you shift again, a little hesitantly, and clamber into his lap instead, knees folding at either side of him until you settle there.

“finished already?” clark asks without looking up, gentle, fingers still moving on the keys.

“mhm,” you hum, your lips brushing his shoulder. “but you’re still working.” it comes out poutier than you mean it to, and duck your head a little.

“just a few more lines, baby,” he murmurs, half smiling even as his eyes stay on the screen. his hand slips off the keyboard for a second to smooth over your waist, thumb rubbing idle circles. “promise i’ll be all yours in a minute.”

you nod, though it’s lazy and a little reluctant, leaning closer so your cheek rests against the curve of his neck. the glow of the monitor softens the sharpness of his profile, and something about it makes your chest squeeze up all warm.

your lashes flutter as you watch him type — the steady click of keys, the faint furrow in his brow when he thinks. after a beat, you tilt forward, pressing a soft, absent minded kiss to the side of his neck where you know he’ll feel it the most. it isn’t pushy, just gentle, unable to help yourself.

you nestle your nose under his jaw and let out a tiny sigh, warm and content, and clark’s heart squeezes so hard he can’t help but pause. his shoulders soften, and he dips his head toward you, cheek brushing against your hair.

“you’re gonna make me lose my place, honey,” he chuckles, but then he hesitates, gaze flickering back to the glowing screen — and he decides, just for a second, to let the words wait.

his hand cups your cheek, thumb warm against your skin, tilting your face up just enough to press a kiss to your forehead. then another to your temple. when you blink up at him, surprised by the tenderness, he can’t help it. he leans in, mouth catching yours in something fuller, warmer than he’d meant. it’s always easy to let it get away, especially with clark. his lips part against yours, his other hand finding your waist where you’re still perched in his lap.

you draw back after a breath, giggling against his mouth. “clark,” you mumble, the sound muffled, “you’re never gonna finish,” its almost teasing, but your eyes are bright and sparkling.

he lets out a low, sheepish laugh, forehead still resting against yours. “i know, i know,” he whispers, but his thumb is still stroking your skin, and there’s something a little helpless in the way his gaze keeps dropping to your lips. “just… needed a quick minute with you, s’ all.”

but clark doesn’t turn back to the screen — not really. because then he’s leaning in again, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth, then one a little lower, at the hinge of your jaw. his hand slides from your cheek down to your neck, thumb brushing over the pulse.

“should finish,” he speaks, but his mouth keeps chasing yours anyway — another gentle kiss, then one a little deeper that pulls a quiet sound from your throat.

you swallow hard, nodding to his words. “then finish,” you whisper quietly, fingers still curled in his shirt, “so we can go home… and you can keep kissing me there.”

something fond and achy tugs in the pools of his eyes. “yeah,” he whispers back, quiet and warm. “okay.” he smiles.

he draws back, not all at once but in gentle inches. you stay curled against him, still hot and a little fluttery, letting the steady rhythm of his typing steady your own heartbeat. every so often, his hand drifts from the keys just to rest against your thigh or squeeze at your waist — quiet proof that even when he’s working, he’s already halfway home with you.. ♡

[blushandfics]

hello i think this triggered my ovulation period

[blushandfics]

maybe i should have added this into my rules but although i really do enjoy all the asks i get 🩷 .. getting asks/ requests that fall into the line of just saying what you miss (example: ‘i miss clark kent’) and that’s without giving me anything solid or expansion of what you wanna see me write of certain said character does not really mean i’ll suddenly get inspired to write for them if you know what i mean? if you want me to write a character please actually give me a solid idea/plot line >.<? not trying to be rude nor am i attacking anyone at all!! just thought it’d be something to bring it up since i’ve gotten a few like this 🎀

[blushandfics]

⟡ ₊ . ༄.° jim halpert — requests/drabbles

୨୧ mean jim teasing you

[blushandfics]

loveddd ur jim basketball fic!! pleaseee do more soft dom!jim maybe even bordering on kinda mean

warnings: light edging, orgasm denial, mean!jim but canon‑compliant, fingering, beggingish and whimpering, established relationship, slight teasing, sexual content ahead please no minors past this point!

you’re already pressed close to him, perched on his lap as his hand already rests on your waist, long fingers ready to peel your work skirt off. “you sure about this, honey?” jim mumbles, voice low and so caring it makes your stomach twist up. “you get all shaky when i even hold you a little too tight.”

your lashes flutter; you can’t help it. “i want you to,” you confess, the words catching on a hiccupy breath. “even if it makes me all shaky.”

and god, he does want to. wants to see you squirm and shiver under his hands — but he’s still jim, all soft edges and worried glances. his thumb brushes under your chin, lifting it so you have to look him in the eye.

“you say that, but you’re already trembling,” he teases, voice gone a little rougher now. “you don’t even know what you’re askin’ for, do you?”

your face goes hot, but you nod anyway, lip caught between your teeth. “… just wanna feel you,” you breathe, small and needy, blinking up at him like you might cry if he says no.

you watch his throat bob with a swallow, jaw tightening like he’s fighting something off, but it’s useless. jim’s always been weak for the way you look at him, all soft and wrecked before he’s even touched you properly.

“okay, sweet girl. c’mere,” he murmurs, his hands slide up, palms broad and warm, dragging over your ribs. you twitch at the contact, lashes fluttering so hard they nearly catch in your brows.

“such a mess already,” jim mumbles, low. it’s more curious than cruel, but there’s something new in it too. his fingertips drag slow over your stomach, until he stops just under the hem of your skirt, trailing to where you want him most.

he doesn’t wait. thick fingers slipping in under your underwear, middle finger sliding down to feel just how wet you are. the quiet sound that leaves him is half groan, half laugh.

“god,” he exhales, pressing the pad of his finger just against your entrance, not quite pushing in. “didn’t even have to do anything, did i?”

you whimper, hips twitching, but he just tsks under his breath, finally sinking the tip of his finger inside. slow, deliberate. “stay still, alright?” he warns softly, trying it out — being stern, but still jim. still so hopelessly gentle even when he doesn’t mean to be.

he pushes two more deeper, knuckle by knuckle, until your mouth falls open around a silent gasp. his other hand comes up to cup your jaw, tilting your face so he can watch.

his thumb brushes the corner of your mouth, brown eyes sparkling. “don’t go all floaty on me yet.” he commands with the typical sarcasm he always has, smirking lazily all the same.

your eyes flutter open, glazed over. he curls his fingers just enough to make your hips buck, and his lips twitch, caught between teasing and something softer.

his thumb ghosts over your lip again, almost like he wants to kiss you — but doesn’t. not yet.

he drags his finger out when you start instinctively clamping your trembling legs around his working hand, a tell-tell sign that you’re already at the crowning of your orgasm— leaving you empty, your breath coming out in a breathy whine.

“jim—”

“shh,” he soothes, thumb brushing your cheekbone. “you’ll get it back. maybe.” his tone is almost casual.

and god, the way his breath comes faster, his chest rising under your you — he wants to give in so bad, but he holds back, just for a second longer, because you asked him to… ♡

i feel like jim is not really meannn he’s such a gentle giant so this is my own little spin on how i think he’d act ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

[blushandfics]

i dunno what ur reacting to but yessss oki 😜

[blushandfics]

⟡ ₊ . ༄.° clark kent — requests/drabbles

୨୧ going on a bakery date with husband and dad clark

[blushandfics]

Clark Kent request!! Idk I went to a dessert place and saw a couple and the guy I saw with his wife was so Clark Kent coded with glasses and his work fit + with his baby daughter strapped to his chest🥺 I’m picturing like reader finally healed after birth and asking Clark if they can go to this cute little dessert place down the street? He promises her he can go after work after he comes home, and takes the two of them? He has his little baby strapped to his chest the wholeeee time from going there, to eating, to leaving, yet is still so attentive to whatever reader is rambling abt while being attentive if his daughter wakes up? Like Clark giving reader a cute little date after birth!!

you’d been talking about the place all week. a little corner shop down the street, bright tiles and old booths, the glass case always fogged with sweet things you could never quite decide between. you’d walked past it a hundred times since coming home, hand resting instinctively on the stroller handle, gaze lingering a second too long on the neon sign in the window.

so when you finally ask — voice still shy around wanting things again, after months of only wanting rest and quiet and space to breathe — clark barely lets you finish the sentence.

“after work,” he promises, eyes warm behind his glasses, tie a little crooked from where you tugged him down to kiss goodbye. “we’ll go tonight.”

and he keeps his word, of course he does. he comes home later than either of you meant, his tie looser now, hair a little mussed. but he drops his bag at the door, kisses you once, twice, and holds out his hands for your daughter with that look that still softens your whole chest.

it takes barely a minute before she’s tucked close against him, strapped around and to his chest in that carrier you picked out together, her tiny face smushed sleepily against his shirt. one of her little fists curls under his tie, like she’s claiming him. clark’s palm comes up to steady her without thinking.

and then you’re out the door. together. not rushing. not worrying. just you, him, and her.

the place smells like sugar and warm butter, small enough that the three of you feel like you fill it. clark holds the door for you, careful of the stroller even though you left it folded outside, and you can feel him watching — not hovering, just making sure. always making sure.

you pick a booth by the window. him sliding in across from you, baby still nestled to his chest, and the sight of him there — work shirt rolled to his elbows, glasses slightly askew, wedding ring catching the soft overhead light — its all enough to make your breath catch.

you talk, rambling about the new flavors on the menu, a silly video you saw earlier, how your neighbor finally fixed his porch light. clark listens like there’s nothing else in the world. his eyes loving, mouth tilted into that small, private smile he only ever wears for you.

when your daughter stirs, he’s already on it: palm smoothing gently over her back, voice dropping even softer — “hey, sweetheart. it’s okay. daddy’s here.” he assures, the words so easy, so tender it makes your throat tighten.

and then back to you, without missing a beat.

“sorry, what were you saying sweetheart? the strawberry one? you should get it. i know you’ve been craving it.”

you end up sharing, fork passed back and forth, his big hands careful not to jostle the baby too much. powdered sugar dusts your fingertips and he brushes it away, thumb lingering on your knuckles.

he listens to everything: your half finished sentences, your worries about going back to work, the story you’re telling even though you keep forgetting where you left off. and the whole time, the baby’s tucked right there against his chest, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

when it’s time to leave, he stands first, adjusting the strap gently so she stays snug and comfortable. even carrying her, he still holds the door open for you, his free hand reaching for yours, certain.

outside, under the soft streetlight glow, he leans down, forehead brushing yours. “was that good?” he asks, voice a little hoarse from the day. you just nod, your eyes wet without meaning to. “yeah,” you breathe. “it was perfect.”

and it is — him, you, her. its sweet on your tongue, warm in your chest, and safe in ways you couldn’t quite put into words… ♡