#“damn why did I ever stop this is so good

[carnalcrows]

LOST AND FOUND - THE SALESMAN

pairing: the salesman x top male reader

synopsis: A man starts noticing his belongings disappearing after every visit to his best friend’s house—until he stumbles upon the unsettling truth.

content warnings: 18+, bottom salesman, reader is fucking salesman's son, dubcon, blackmail, cheating, fingering, anal sex, implied stalking, dead dove do not eat.

word count: 1.6k

Dinner at your best friend’s house is always an experience.

Not because of the food—his dad’s a damn good cook, actually—but because of the company.

“Hyung, I’m telling you, this lady at work keeps calling me ‘oppa,’ and I don’t know how to tell her I hate it,” Jiho complains, waving his chopsticks for emphasis. “Like, I get it, I’m devastatingly handsome, but can we have boundaries?”

You snort, reaching for more rice. “You could just tell her to stop.”

“I did! And you know what she said? She said I ‘look like the type to enjoy it.’” Jiho groans, collapsing dramatically against the back of his chair. “I feel violated.”

Across the table, Jiho’s father hums, slow and thoughtful. “Perhaps you give off the impression of someone who enjoys attention,” he muses, sipping his soup.

Jiho gapes at him, offended. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

You chuckle, glancing at Jiho’s father. He hasn’t said much tonight, but that’s not unusual. The man is a quiet observer, the kind of person who listens more than he speaks. You’ve had dinner here plenty of times before, and the pattern is always the same—Jiho chatting away, you chiming in, and his father interjecting with the occasional dry remark.

But tonight… feels different.

Jiho’s father has been watching you. Not obviously—just little glances, the weight of his gaze lingering longer than usual. His face remains unreadable, but there’s something sharp in his eyes, something calculating.

It’s not unfriendly, exactly. Just… unsettling.

“Hyung?” Jiho nudges your arm. “You good?”

You blink, shaking off the feeling. “Yeah. Just thinking about how you probably deserve that treatment.”

Jiho makes a wounded noise. “Et tu, Brute?”

Across the table, his father chuckles. A deep, quiet sound. When you glance at him, he’s already looking away, refilling his tea like he wasn’t just assessing you like a goddamn science project.

Yeah. Something’s up with him tonight.

You just don’t know what.

And that? That should’ve been your first warning.

You should’ve gone home.

Jiho had texted that he’d be late—something about running an errand for work—but you figured it was no big deal. You’d been to his house a thousand times before, and waiting around wasn’t exactly a hardship.

But the house was too quiet without him.

It’s why you found yourself wandering, aimlessly at first, then with purpose when you noticed something odd.

A door. Slightly ajar.

You didn’t remember Jiho ever mentioning this room before. Curiosity got the better of you, and you nudged the door open fully—only to freeze in place.

Inside, the walls were lined with shelves. Not with books or storage boxes, but with you.

Your bracelets. Your books. Your toothbrush.

And—most horrifyingly—your underwear.

Stacks of them, folded neatly. Some draped over surfaces, others tucked away like a grotesque collection. And at the very center, in a glass display case like some kind of prized possession, was a used condom—your used condom.

A sickening chill crawled up your spine.

What the fuck was this?

A shadow moved behind you. Before you could react, a deep voice spoke, low and amused.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to snoop?”

You turned sharply. Jiho’s father stood in the doorway, watching you with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You opened your mouth—whether to demand an explanation or to throw up, you weren’t sure—but he stepped forward, closing the door behind him with a click.

Trapping you inside.

“You’ve been quite careless,” he murmured, trailing a finger along one of the shelves. “Leaving so many things behind. Did you ever wonder where they went?”

Your pulse thundered in your ears. “What the fuck is this?”

Jiho’s father merely chuckled. “Just a collection. I like to keep things that interest me.”

Your stomach churned. This wasn’t just interest—this was obsession.

You tried to move past him, but he stepped in your way, his smirk widening. “Ah, ah. I wouldn’t be so hasty.”

You clenched your jaw. “Move.”

“And if I don’t?” His voice was light, conversational, but there was a razor-sharp edge beneath it. “You could run to Jiho. Tell him. But then I’d have to tell everyone something too, wouldn’t I?”

Your breath caught.

“I wonder,” he mused, tilting his head. “How would your workplace react? Your friends? Your family?”

Your hands curled into fists. You knew what he was implying. Being outed in this country—where tradition and reputation mattered—was a death sentence for your social life, your career, everything.

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “So, what will it be?”

Oh.

Oh hell no.

You let out a short, incredulous laugh, because there is no way this is happening. “Dude,” you blurt. “You do realize your son and I have been—”

“I’m very aware,” he interrupts smoothly, his gaze flickering down your form. “And I must say… I can see why he’s so taken with you.”

You should leave. You should run. But your legs don’t move. Because the way he’s looking at you—intense, predatory, like he’s testing something—sends a very different kind of shiver down your spine.

The air between you shifts.

He’s close now. Too close.

“You’re an interesting one,” he murmurs, reaching out—not grabbing, just hovering, his fingers barely ghosting over your arm. “Most people would be terrified right now.”

“Oh, I am,” you say, flashing a weak grin. “But I also have really bad coping mechanisms.”

His lips quirk up. “Is that so?”

Then, before you can think better of it—before you can stop yourself—you grab him by the tie and pull him in.

His smirk barely has time to widen before your lips crash together.

The kiss is messy. Heated. Too much, too fast, but neither of you seem to care. His hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him, while yours tangle in the expensive fabric of his suit. He tastes like something rich and intoxicating, and damn it, you hate how much you like it.

Your hands move to his waist as his move up to your shoulders, slightly changing the dynamics of the situation. He groans against your mouth at the friction against his crotch, making you hard.

This is wrong, so wrong, but there doesn’t really seem to be another way out.

You tug at his work pants, bringing them down with a firm grasp while pushing him onto the bed in the corner of the room– more like a shrine.

His cock emerges, hard and leaking. Your thumbs trails at the head-- picking up the precum that builds up at the slit. He shudders; he hasn’t touched himself like this in so long.

Wanting to finish what he wants as soon as possible, you shimmy down your own pants, revealing your own erection. You find yourself feeling ashamed at the fact that your grew hard from kissing your fuck buddy best friend’s father.

Searching through his coat pocket, the older man finds a small packet of lube and tosses it at you. You catch it before it flies past you– glaring at him. 

“You're no fun,” he grins, as you rip the packet with your teeth and pour the cool liquid onto your fingers.

You take your lubed digits to his awaiting hole and press them at his entrance, before pushing in. You weren’t going to give this man the mercy of your patience.

His back arched as he let out a loud moan. If your fingers felt this good, how would your cock feel in him?

His thoughts were interrupted by you moving your fingers in and out of him sloppily, not caring if the sudden intrusion hurt (he was a masochist, so you supposed it didn’t matter anyway).

Feeling that he had been prepped enough, you slid your digits out of his hole, and replaced the emptiness with your cock.

The head caught on to the slick of the lube, pushing in slightly– before you slid all the way in. You groaned at how tight he was– even tighter than Jiho if that were possible. You chided yourself for thinking like that before you pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in.

The man’s eyes rolled to the back of his head– your cock hitting the right spot with every thrust. You felt so, so good inside him, and his hole involuntarily clenched around you at the thought.

You held tightly onto his waist as you practically abused his hole, profanities leaving your mouth every now and then.

“Hah– never thought you would get of to being fucked by your son’s best friend, hm?” He could only mumble incoherently at the jab, his brain just too full with being fucked dumb.

He had been waiting so long for this to finally happen, for you to take him like this. He was aware of the relationship between you and his son, and he chose to exploit it instead of doing what a normal dad should do.

But it wasn’t like he was a normal person anyway.

At that thought, he felt himself clench around you more, fucking psychopath. You groaned, feeling his warmth, thrusting into him even further as though you were an animal in heat.

Soon, you felt yourself close to a climax, so you pressed your cock into him all the way, letting yourself come undone– painting his insides a pearly white, before whispering in his ear.

“You can throw away that condom now– you have the real thing in you anyway”, he came, almost violently, when he heard you say that– his semen staining his pristine suit.

You were going to pull out of him, when a sharp knock suddenly echoed through the house.

“Dad?”

You both freeze.

Oh. Oh, hell.

The door creaks open, and there stands Jiho —his son—staring at the two of you like he’s just walked into the world’s worst nightmare.

Silence.

More silence.

Then—

“What. The. Fuck.”

You sigh, forehead dropping against the older man’s shoulder. “Welp,” you mutter. “Guess I am gonna start screaming now.”

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

[seitmai]

“That far along, huh? Are we going to have to bribe someone to lie about the date on the marriage certificate?”

“Why can’t I take her on a proper date?” He looks the man up and down. The scrawny little kid has filled out. But the reputation of a son raised by a single mom still lingered. A son who had to get a job far too young to make sure that he and his mother could survive. A son that was accepted into college, and now about to graduate Harvard law. And still he isn’t good enough for you. He is no good. And never would be.

So sad and unfair🥺

“I want to marry your daughter.” “Over my dead fucking body,” Andy’s cheerful face turns sour, and he glares at your father. “You know nothing about my daughter.” “I know that she prefers the moon over the sun. I know that her favorite flower is a lily, but your wife thinks her room looks better with roses and daisies. I know that she wants a big family, and wants to live just out of the city. I know she wants a dog, a golden retriever, and name her Bagel,” your dad stumbles back on that. You said you never would tell anyone that unless you knew they loved you. “I know she loves baking, and she loves to read. I know that you taught her to type.”

Period👏🏻

“You have no idea,” he gets the most devious plan. It’s not as evil as it may sound. Andy plans on marrying you anyways. Currently he doesn’t have your father’s blessing, and this way wouldn’t exactly be a blessing. But at least he couldn’t say no. You are just like every other girl, and would only get the proper talk until you were engaged. You didn’t fully understand how babies are made, or the ways that Andy could love you, and evour you.

Ohhh i see where this is going 👀

His car turns in a different direction. The house was supposed to be a surprise. But he was also supposed to be given your dad’s blessing. It’s empty, and a bit bleak right now. But if he’s going to have your properly, he wants it to be in your future home with him.

🥰🥰🥰

You would no longer be a lady, and sex didn’t automatically mean pregnancy, but he wasn’t going to stop until you became pregnant.

A man with a plan 🫡

“Well,” he says softly, pulling you into his body. His meaty hands run up your sides before they’re high enough for his thumbs to caress over your breasts, and you sigh leaning into him. You were in private, and there’s nothing you wouldn’t let Andy do. Or touch.

🤭🤭🤭

Wedding be damned. You can’t stop this now. You want to feel him inside of you. “Andy, I want you in there,” he glances up at you with an almost evil smirk. “Will you show me what that means?” He will marry you. He will make an honest woman out of you. Your father drove him to do things this way.

I mean fair, and they are consenting 🤷🏻‍♀️

“I want a baby with you,” fuck yes. Yes. Just what he was wanting to hear. “I want to marry you, and live here with you, and have you inside me every single night. I want to take care of our sweet babies, and —“ he pulls himself out of you again, causing you to pout, but then he pushes back in with a jolt.

Just what he needed to hear

“You were made for me, Sugar. Nobody can ever take this away from us. I won’t stop fucking you until I plant a baby in your belly.” You’re too far gone to truly understand the implications in that statement. You just nod your sweet little head, opening your legs wider. Andy leans back, pinning both legs to the bed as he watches himself impale you. Your tight little cunt clings to his cock. Even your body didn’t want him to leave you. It was begging for him to stay buried deep inside you.

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

“You were supposed to marry the astronaut.” “Guess he wouldn’t want to marry some whore, huh, Nana?” You let your hand drift down your stomach, rubbing over the barely there bump. “Andy did ask daddy for his permission to marry me. He said no, but all I’ve ever wanted was to be Mrs. Barber.”

The astronaut comment? Iconic 😅👏🏻

“Don’t feel sorry for me. I wanted this. I begged for him to give us a baby. And now he’s giving me his last name. We have a home, and he has a job, and will move up at the firm. Let me have this happiness. He kept his promise. So let me keep mine.”

The circumstances might be a little fucked up, but it's actually really sweet, let them be in love and married!

Daddy's Pride and Joy

Summary: Andy wanted you. He wanted things right. But your dad refused. What other choice did he have?

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, narrow views of sex due to the time period, slut shaming, unprotected sex, breeding kink, PIV sex, first time, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3.9K

Andy Barber Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Your mom fiddles around with a bouquet of roses and daisies, refusing to meet your eyes. You’ve heard her talk about how you made a mistake for weeks now. How you put yourself in this position. That you should consider yourself lucky that things are going the way they are. And still you feel her judgemental gaze as she peeks at you over the bouquet.

“Marge?” your grandmother questions your mother. Picking up your dress, she then turns to look at you. “What did you do, you stupid girl?” You hold your head high as your sister starts to zip the dress up. Grunting when she reaches a snag. Well…it is now too tight.

“How far along are you?” You play dumb. The dress wasn’t supposed to be a give away. Your grandmother walks behind you to help your sister. “You could have gone with a bigger dress.”

“It fit last week,” your sister is much too young, and does not understand the adult conversation happening between you and the women who are ashamed of you.

“That far along, huh? Are we going to have to bribe someone to lie about the date on the marriage certificate?”

“No,” Andy told you everything would be okay. And it would be. Everything would be just fine.

“Marge?” Your dad peeks out the front window, watching as the little boy from down the street pushes you in the swing. “Marge!”

“Yes, dear,” your mother responds. She wipes her hands on her apron as she walks into the living room.

“Who is that boy?” He points to the little boy with the bright blue eyes that had captured your heart the moment he and his mother moved down the street. “Hmm?”

“The kid from the old house up the street,” it isn’t like your father didn’t know this already. He asked about him every time you played with him. The problem was your father didn’t like him. Didn’t think the son of a single mother was good enough for his precious angel.

“The one whose father is in jail?”

“That would be the one. She fancies him.”

“I think he just sees an access to money,” your mother rolls his eyes, as she starts to step back into the kitchen to prepare lunch. “You laugh at me, but kids younger and younger are being taught by their parents the best way to money is finding some stupid girl that has a rich family to marry. He sees an in. A respectable man that owns a magazine, like myself. The heir…”

“We’re not royalty. His mother says he wants to be a lawyer.”

“Bah. That kid is a loser.”

“Sir,” your father attempts to close the door in Andy’s face, but the younger man places a foot there first. “I would like to take your daughter out on a date.”

“No,” he deadpans. “Is that all?”

“Why can’t I take her on a proper date?” He looks the man up and down. The scrawny little kid has filled out. But the reputation of a son raised by a single mom still lingered. A son who had to get a job far too young to make sure that he and his mother could survive. A son that was accepted into college, and now about to graduate Harvard law. And still he isn’t good enough for you. He is no good. And never would be.

“What do you mean by proper?”

“Oh, umm…I didn’t mean anything by it,” he meant he didn’t want to wait below your window as you snuck out with him. In order to not be spotted, he’d just take you on long walks at night, where eventually the two of you would lay looking at the stars. It was kind of infuriating to have you all alone. But you are a respectable woman. And clothes always stayed on.

“You know, Dwayne down the street mentioned something about you and her. Now, I thought it was a bit crazy to suggest that my daughter was riding in a car with the likes of you after midnight,” Andy stands up straighter. Nothing had ever crossed a line. But he has every intention of marrying you, and would prefer it be done the right way. “I want you to stay away.”

“I want to marry your daughter.”

“Over my dead fucking body,” Andy’s cheerful face turns sour, and he glares at your father. “You know nothing about my daughter.”

“I know that she prefers the moon over the sun. I know that her favorite flower is a lily, but your wife thinks her room looks better with roses and daisies. I know that she wants a big family, and wants to live just out of the city. I know she wants a dog, a golden retriever, and name her Bagel,” your dad stumbles back on that. You said you never would tell anyone that unless you knew they loved you. “I know she loves baking, and she loves to read. I know that you taught her to type.”

“You’re not marrying my daughter. Do you know why?” Andy shakes his head. He has done everything a man should do. He even has a job lined up. He has a home he is going to buy, just for the two of you, and eventually your children, and Bagel. He has a car. He will provide for you. “You’re a piece of shit, born from a piece of shit. Do you not think I know about your bastard father rotting in prison? Do you not think I don’t know about how your mom was making some extra money? You’ll never be good enough for my daughter. Never.”

—

You lean outside of your window, smiling when you see Andy on the lawn. Throwing your legs out of the window, you shimmy towards the tree branch, and make your way towards the most perfect man you have ever met. Getting down to his arms, where he gives you a bruising kiss. His hand is holding onto you a bit too high on your rib cage, and his thumb grazes over your breast before you jump away from him. He shouldn’t touch you there while at your parents’ home.

“Where are we going tonight?” your voice is so soft as he grips your hand, and leads you down the road and to his parked car. You are so proud of Andy and all that he has earned.

“Did you talk to my dad?” Andy opens the door of the car for you, and closes it before he crosses over to the other side. “Andy, did you talk to him?” He has to let you date Andy now. He is a lawyer. And you weren’t some shy little girl anymore. You wanted to become his wife, and have cute babies with him. And the sooner that this was public, the sooner you can have that, “Andy?”

“He said no,” your arms cross over your chest as you look out the window of the car. “It’s not stopping me.”

“Why is he like this?” it upsets you that your father can’t see the Andy that you see. He is perfect. And he will give you a perfect life.

“Because you’re his oldest daughter. His pride and joy, and he just doesn’t want you to be married off to some boy.”

“Except you’re not some boy,” you give him a smile, scooting over on the seat towards him. Your dainty hand rubs up and down his chest as you snuggle in, “You’re all man.”

“You have no idea,” he gets the most devious plan. It’s not as evil as it may sound. Andy plans on marrying you anyways. Currently he doesn’t have your father’s blessing, and this way wouldn’t exactly be a blessing. But at least he couldn’t say no. You are just like every other girl, and would only get the proper talk until you were engaged. You didn’t fully understand how babies are made, or the ways that Andy could love you, and evour you.

They’d tell you how a woman has wifely duties. But sex with you isn’t a duty. Sex with you almost seems like a life force for him. It is proper to wait for marriage, but this marriage doesn’t seem like it’s going to be approved by your father. And he’d hate to see you leave Andy behind because you needed that.

But…if you were to accidentally fall pregnant how could he say no? You would need to have a man to marry you. What man would marry a sullied woman? Leaving him with no choice but to approve the marriage. Demand it.

It’s not evil. It’s just changing up the way he would like things to go. He doesn’t want you to be looked down upon in the community. He wants you. He doesn’t want to wait. He wants his future wife properly. He’d taken way too many cold showers after leaving you. Relieved himself way too much.

His car turns in a different direction. The house was supposed to be a surprise. But he was also supposed to be given your dad’s blessing. It’s empty, and a bit bleak right now. But if he’s going to have your properly, he wants it to be in your future home with him. You would no longer be a lady, and sex didn’t automatically mean pregnancy, but he wasn’t going to stop until you became pregnant.

Andy has always played the long game with you. He knew the moment he saw this sweet little girl rocking in her saddle shoes as you stood there holding out a coloring book and crayons for him, and told him that you have a swing that he was in love. He fell instantly and even told his mom that he was going to marry you. And he will. Even if you have to get pregnant out of wedlock for it to happen.

“Andy, where are we going? We’ve never been here before?” You ask after a while of silence. You are perfectly content rubbing on your boyfriend as he drives. He gets all fidgety and squirrelly when you do. It makes you feel better knowing his heart is racing just like yours always does around him.

“I bought us something.”

“Oh?” You look up at him with doe eyes, and kiss him on his neck. Giggling when he makes that sound. Kissing on his neck always makes him squirm. You love watching him adjust how he’s sitting and even how he pulls you closer to him. Letting his hands roam where they want to roam. You don't mind as long as you are alone.

“It might not be much. But this is just a starter,” he says, slowing down as he turns onto a road. You squeal as you look forward. Your hand lays on his upper thigh, and he clears his throat. Andy is such a funny man when you touch him in certain areas.

“Andy, it’s perfect!” It truly is. The cutest little white house with a white picket fence. A perfect starter home. “Can we go look?”

“That’s why we’re here,” you don’t even wait for him to open the door before you spring to the house. Having to wait a bit too long for him to come to your side and unlock the door before you're running through the empty house.

Home.

Yours and Andy’s home.

The kitchen is bigger than your mom’s, and a few modern appliances. The living room is huge, but maybe that’s because there was no furniture. Running down the hall you see the perfect room for a nursery. Can already envision the crib.

“Honey,” Andy pulls your hand down the hallway, leading you towards the biggest room in the house. It is mostly empty, sans a bed. “This will be ours.”

“Ours?” You sigh, turning towards him, and run both hands up his chest. “And we’ll get to sleep in the bed together,” your mother hadn’t quite taught you anything concerning marriage. And you’d heard your friends gossip a bit about their husbands, but it just made you queasy. You didn’t want to think about another man. You just want him. You want those conversations with Andy or nobody.

“We can do more than sleep,” he says with a sly quirk of his mouth.

“What else does one do in the bed with their husband?”

“Well,” he says softly, pulling you into his body. His meaty hands run up your sides before they’re high enough for his thumbs to caress over your breasts, and you sigh leaning into him. You were in private, and there’s nothing you wouldn’t let Andy do. Or touch.

Your body heats up with ministrations, and you stare up at him with your eye lids at half mast. “It’s something I’ve always wanted to try with you.”

“And what’s that?”

“I want to make love with you,” your tongue flicks out of your mouth, and you pull your bottom lip in. Biting on your perfect pout as you look up at him. “Do you know what that is?”

You shake your head no as Andy’s hands go to your back, and he grips tight to your zipper as he pulls it down. You gulp, allowing him to undo your dress. It feels right. And you love Andy, so making love sounds right. “When two people love each other, they give each other their bodies.”

“And then what,” you release a wanton mewl when he fully unzips your dress. Placing his hands back on your shoulders, he pulls the dress down, and you watch with bated breath as it pulls at your feet. Andy’s hungry eyes roam over your body before he reaches back behind you, undoing your bustier, and you’re the one pulling it off.

He stands there, taking your nearly nude body in. “Then what, Andy?”

“I taste you,” you gulp. “You taste me,” you shudder. “I enter inside of you,” you whimper. “I come inside of you.”

“Inside where?” Andy’s finger taps between your legs, and your knees start to buckle. Leaning more into him for support, and you shyly pull at his jacket, and fumble with the buttons on his shirt. “Have you ever came inside someone?”

“No,” it isn’t a lie. He’s had sex, and only because he wanted to be the best for you. But that part of him…it is only for you. “Can — I touch you?” You nod your head enthusiastically, and he leans forward. Both hands cupping your breasts before he sucks one into his mouth.

“Oh, god,” the other breast he squeezes and pulls until he reaches your swollen bud, and gives it a little pinch. You pant as you stare down at him. Sucking on your nipple before he pulls off with a pop, and moves to the other one. “Andy…I can’t breathe.”

“We’re just getting started,” he practically growls. He grabs your hand, and places it on his crotch, while you moan. Slick heat races to your core, and your mind goes all fuzzy. Andy always has this innate ability to make butterflies race to your belly.

Feeling Andy like this doesn’t even feel criminal. He’s showing you exactly why he adjusts his pants, “This is what you do to me.”

“And this,” you take a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts. You can feel his pulse under your fingers. He’s so hot and heavy under your palms. Yours. This is all yours. “This goes inside me?”

“It does.”

“Show me,” Andy steps away from you before sinking to his knees. He starts to slowly peel away your panties and stockings down your body. Assisting you in kicking off your shoes, and stepping out of your confines while you stand completely bare in front of him.

“Andy,” you coo before he kisses you over your naked mound. “Andy,” you start to melt as he coaxes your legs apart, and he licks through your slit. “Oh dear,” Andy is getting a part of you that no man has. Open and so ready for him. Whatever it means. Is this what people are talking about when they mention the wedding bed?

Wedding be damned. You can’t stop this now. You want to feel him inside of you. “Andy, I want you in there,” he glances up at you with an almost evil smirk. “Will you show me what that means?” He will marry you. He will make an honest woman out of you. Your father drove him to do things this way.

Lifting you up, he lets your legs wrap around his body, while he moves you to grind over his enlarged bulge. Your eyes blow wide open with curious lust and the simpering sounds of your needy voice make his movements so much quicker. He could just about come looking at you like this alone. Laying you down on the bed, he spreads your legs so wide to stare at your weeping cunt. Perfect. And all his.

“Andy,” you whine, wiggling around. You feel so exposed, and want him so bad. You want him all over you. You want him to feel a part of you that no one has.

“Shh,” he whispers as he starts removing his clothes. You gasp as his cock springs free. Scooting back in the bed, suddenly scared of where he says he’s going to have you. “You can take it. You’ll take it all, and if it doesn’t fit, we’ll make it fit.”

Andy clamors onto the bed, using his wide berth to keep your legs parted as he lines himself up with your center. Pushing just the tip of him in you and quickly pulling back out, and you yip. “Honey, you can take it, huh?”

“Y-y-yeah,” you take a deep swallow as he goes deep, but doesn’t pull out. “Oh, golly,” he slowly sinks his girth deeper. Letting your body adjust to the intrusion inch by inch. “Oh…oh!” Panting when he fully sheaths his steel rod all the way inside of you, and into the depths of your soul.

Both of your bodies hum with the throbbing intensity that is the two of you becoming one. It’s overwhelming and lovely all at the same time. All these years have led you here. Spread wide open for him. Taking him. Loving him.

“There’s a good girl. There is my sweet good girl,” it is overwhelming having Andy inside of you. Stretching you out deliciously. You want him always there. It just feels right. How dare your father try and take this from you. You belong with Andy with him inside of you.

“Andy, I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I want a baby with you,” fuck yes. Yes. Just what he was wanting to hear. “I want to marry you, and live here with you, and have you inside me every single night. I want to take care of our sweet babies, and —“ he pulls himself out of you again, causing you to pout, but then he pushes back in with a jolt. “Oh, Lordy be!”

“You like me fucking you?”

“Uh huh,” such terrible language, but right here, right now, it feels wrong not to be saying that. “Fuck me harder. I like that,” he snaps his hips, barreling back into you. Again. Again. And again. And tears spring to your eyes, but he kisses them away. Pistoning into your body with such force you cry out.

The fullness of him. It makes it hard to breathe. Even the sting of the stretch doesn’t hurt all that much.

“Good girl. You sound so pretty crying for me,” you just cling on for dear life as Andy’s movements make the bed slap against the wall. “You were made for me, Sugar. Nobody can ever take this away from us. I won’t stop fucking you until I plant a baby in your belly.”

You’re too far gone to truly understand the implications in that statement. You just nod your sweet little head, opening your legs wider. Andy leans back, pinning both legs to the bed as he watches himself impale you. Your tight little cunt clings to his cock. Even your body didn’t want him to leave you. It was begging for him to stay buried deep inside you.

And he would be. He’ll keep fucking you, and planting his seed until it takes. What is your dad going to say when you’re swelling with Andy’s pride and joy? He wouldn’t want to ruin your good name, therefore the family’s. He’ll be forced to allow you to marry. And he’ll have you exactly how he wants you.

On your back, taking him every night, while every day he gets to worship you. The dream.

“Sugar,” Andy pants, his movements stiffening up. “I’m gonna give us a baby.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Fuck,” he crows, keeping himself lodged deep in your body. “Fuck!” Warmth blooms in your belly, and your mouth goes slack as you stare up at him. “This will be our little secret, okay?”

Until your belly is so round that everyone knows that he’s fucked you good and hard enough to get a baby. Men will stare jealously knowing that Andy has had you with no inhibitions. There will come a day that he will get to tell people that the two of you are trying for a baby. Meaning they’ll know he’s fucking his come inside of you every night.

It will come. But for now, he’s going to keep coming inside of you. Creating a life in secrecy. In hopes that your father will approve this union. He won’t have another choice.

“Beige,” your grandmother huffs as your sister pulls the veil over your head. “You seriously think people won’t notice you’re wearing beige? You spread your legs for the first man that whispered how much he loves you in your ear. You will ruin this family!” your sister looks back and forth between you and your grandmother, but you keep your head held high. Today you become his wife.

“You were supposed to marry the astronaut.”

“Guess he wouldn’t want to marry some whore, huh, Nana?” You let your hand drift down your stomach, rubbing over the barely there bump. “Andy did ask daddy for his permission to marry me. He said no, but all I’ve ever wanted was to be Mrs. Barber.”

“He trapped you,” your mother gasps, holding her hand over her mouth, while the other fans her face. “Sweetheart.”

“Don’t feel sorry for me. I wanted this. I begged for him to give us a baby. And now he’s giving me his last name. We have a home, and he has a job, and will move up at the firm. Let me have this happiness. He kept his promise. So let me keep mine.”

Let your mom continue to pray that nobody sees the weight you’ve put on. Four months, and six weeks, it is becoming harder to hide. There wouldn’t be a honeymoon. There would only be you going home to your husband. Sleeping in the bed right beside him where you belong. No more sneaking around, and leaving before sunlight. Everyone may know that you didn’t wait, and you don’t even care. Because he still kept his promise.

There would be no more lies. Only the truth, and that’s what has always been known. You love Andy Barber.

Andy Barber loves you.

And Andy is yours.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bambamwolf87 @musingsfromthemitten

@theinheriteddutchess @buckybarnesisdaddy @distractingbeth

[somuchforahobby]

what didn't stay in vegas

Summary: Ever since your arrival at the BAU Derek had been constantly flirting with you, but not his usual Garcia-sweet talk, he was all in. You had gotten used to it and actually rehearsed your comebacks. But there was someone who wasn’t so fond of it. Tags: Secret relationship / Derek is a flirttt / Hotch is jealous Warnings: once again I did not dare to write s m u t Words: 1.5K GIFS belong to: @hqtchner Read on AO3

“Hey, babygirl, how about we head for some drinks to relax after this?” He asked you as the team walked out of the precinct. 

“Oh, that’d be great! Spence can give us some tricks to survive in his hometown” You actually were interested in the offer.

“I meant in my room, sweetheart.”  He winked at you.

“Nice try, Morgan.” You laughed on his face. “We’re in sin city and I ain’t no saint.” You turned to see your secret boyfriend for a second before anybody could notice. His eyes darkened and a small smile appeared on his face.

“Sin with me, darling. I swear it’ll be worth it.” His hand landed on your waist but you removed it with your elbow.

“Those who brag are never good.” You answered over your shoulder.

“There’s only one way to find out.”

“My God, get a damn room.” Emily broke the tension, tired of the exchange, and the rest of the team went quiet.

~

“It’s starting to get annoying” Aaron said against your lips once you were alone in his hotel room. “I will suspend him” he punctuated every word with a kiss.

“Don’t be so resentful, he doesn’t know I’m yours” 

“He doesn’t know what?” He pretended not to listen so you’d repeat. You laughed.

“That I’m yours” You gave him a peck on the lips.

“Besides, you can’t blame a man for trying” You kissed him again and your hands quickly worked his tie to undo the knot. A soft moan left his mouth.

“No, I can’t” he pushed you against the wall to attack your neck, while unbuttoning your shirt.

“Just because you got there earlier” 

He stopped his way to your chest to stand back and looked you in the eyes.

“Is that the only reason why?” His hand was on your jaw, holding your face upwards to maintain eye contact. He was analyzing you.

“Of course not” you bit your lower lip aware of the effect it had on him but with his thumb set it free by pulling your chin.

His eyes dangled through your face, not certain of what he was looking for.

“Oh, come on, honey, just fuck my brain’s out.” Your hands were working on his buckle but he grabbed both your wrists, lifting them above your head, holding them with one hand while the other returned to cup your cheek.

“Mmm” his furrowed brows accusing you of a crime you didn’t commit. “I don’t think you’ve earned it”

“I was real’ good today!” He smiled at your attempt. “I did not tease you in front of the team and I almost didn’t look at you.” Your innocent eyes were driving him mad.

“But you flirted with other men.”

“No, I rejected the flirtations from other men.”

“Mmm” he kept you in the same position, examining your micro expressions.

After a few seconds in silence he kissed you devotedly and softly. “I’m not really in the mood for a role-play today, honey.” He let go of your wrists and wrapped his arms around you, “I really need you.” He’d barely separate your mouths to talk. You just followed his lead to the bed, mimicking the same tenderness he was applying on your body.

~

“Is everything okay?” You asked after you finally came down from your high, head resting on his chest.

“Yeah, it’s just—“ he yawned, “not in the mood to tie you and spank you after all we saw today” he kissed your head sweetly. “Rest, you need it.” He tickled your ribs before turning your body sideways to spoon you.

As it was usual, you fell asleep in his arms.

~

His lips tracing your spine woke you up.

“What time is it?” You asked, still half asleep.

“5:45” He answered and kept kissing your bare back.

“Time for my walk of shame” you turned to see him and placed a peck on his lips. You adored the sight of him in the morning, without stress, without furrowed brows, all half lidded eyes, disheveled hair and warm skin.

“What if I steal this for today?” You asked, trying on his discarded shirt from last night.

“Why would you?” He asked, amused, still lying on the bed.

“So I can brag about the amazing man I spent the night with.” You teased him.

“It has my initials embroidered in the cuffs, I don’t think it’s a good idea” 

“I can fold them”

“No.” It was an order. “I wore it the whole day, it’s dirty.” You smelled the arms.

“It smells like you.”

“So, sweat” He laughed.

“Lotion,” you started walking round the bed “soap”, another step, “manly”, another step and he laughed, “smells like amazingly hot man” you straddled his lap and his hands quickly found your legs.

“I don’t approve”

“You’re not my boss in here.” You leaned down for another passionate kiss.

~

“Why have you chosen to punish me today?” Derek asked you the minute you crossed the precinct door.

“What you mean?” You asked, puzzled.

“You are hiding your body, babygirl, that’s just mean.” His face was filled with fake pain.

You ended up styling the shirt with straight jeans and converse, folding the cuffs to your elbow. It almost looked like a normal oversized shirt.

You took a glimpse of Aaron and he was reading some files in front of him, completely ignoring the conversation.

“That’s a man’s shirt” Spencer pointed out and the edges of your boyfriend’s mouth curled up.

“Is it?” Emily grabbed your shoulder and looked in your eyes. You only nodded. “You dirty girl.” She clapped and smiled.

“I also take trophies from my victims.” You gave the team a proud grin. Derek sighed in frustration.

When you looked up again, Aaron still had a proud smile on his lips.

~

You ended up wrapping the case that day and flying back at night.

“Now that we’re free, let’s talk about your victim.” Emily asked, she was in the seat in front of you.

“Well, he is great in bed.” You started off strong and saw Aaron blush on the other side of the plane as he read the newspaper. “A true gentleman, can’t wait to see him again.”

“Too bad you left him in Vegas” Derek interrupted your conversation.

“Yeah, maybe he could’ve given you some tips on how to treat women.” You answered, amused.

“And, where did you meet him?” JJ continued the interrogation after Morgan walked away.

“Uh” You struggled finding an answer and saw Aaron smiling even harder. “In the hotel.”

“What? Where? How?” Emily was yelling at this point. “You always get laid with random guys on the way and I never understand how you even meet them.”

“I’mma tell Hotch you’re not focused on the cases but on crossing all the states off your list!” JJ threatened.

“We eyed each other during dinner in the hotel, after you guys left to the Casino we got to talking, one thing led to another and that’s that.” You were a great storyteller and even better liar.

“Damn, you. Maybe I’m getting old and rusty.” Emily was analyzing you.

“I happen to know that it is not a problem” you teased. 

“How old?”

“I didn’t ask, my guess is around 45” 

“Single?”

“Mmm” you certainly had not thought about the civil status of your fake fuck buddy. “Yeah, he wasn’t wearing a ring.” 

“Nobody wears a ring in Vegas.”

“Baby, you out there fucking married man instead of staying home, ts ts ts” Derek scolded you.

“Fuck, it’s freezing here.” You wanted to shift the conversation & started unfolding your cuffs to cover yourself but you remembered the embroidery and decided to stand up and get a sweater from your bag. When you passed through Derek, he caught your wrists screaming.

“It has his name embroidered!” You freed yourself before he could read it.

“Leave me alone, Derek.” You were getting upset and Aaron raised his eyes from what he was reading to check on you.

“Morgan” he alerted, bossely.

You were opening the luggage compartment trying to reach for your bag, Derek chased you trying to read your cuffs.

“Derek, leave me alone” You were squirming under him while reaching for your bag.

“Babygirl” him laughing was the only thing avoiding him to restrain you. “Let me read it!”

“Get over it!” He grabbed your wrist and brought it close to his eyes.

“Morgan!” Your boyfriend’s voice made him drop your wrist and take a step back. Aaron was already standing next to you two with his usual frown. “Leave my girl the fuck alone.” He put an arm around your waist while the other got your bag and handed it to you. All while maintaining eye contact with Derek.

Derek showed his palms in surrender and walked away, the rest of the team all had their mouths open in shock.

Once you were alone enough you turned to see Aaron, surely surprised as well.

“I had enough of hiding” he said before leaning down to kiss you.

“Well that didn’t stay in Vegas” you heard Emily’s voice chuckling in the back.

[vanillebunny]

hellooo!! can u pls write for steve harrington?? i'm thinking where he got with reader as a rebound for nancy but then he realizes its much more than that but by the time he does you already realized and left like an angsty thing

warnings: i think none? but please tell me if there are.

you've always known steve harrington, ever since you were a kid. steve 'the hair' harrington, king of hawkins, ladies man--as everyone thought. to you though, he was just steve, the neighbor next door.

being neighbors with steve wasn't always easy, or quiet even. from the constant parties to the endless nights with every woman in hawkins. you'd be a lucky if you got a good nights sleep for once. your mom didn't really hear it much, not like she was ever home to.

if there was one thing you had in common with steve, it was the lack of life in your house. only for steve, he was always replacing it with having someone over whenever he possibly can, while you just stayed home alone.

not like you were never invited, it was kind of a given since you'd know about it anyway, might as well be invited. but you never came. not like it mattered. but after some time, the parties...stopped. everything became calm, and steve was like...not a douchebag anymore. everyone said it was cause of nancy wheeler, the princess. she was perfect. not a single flaw to her

you'd always see her come around, she was pretty. you couldn't lie. but damn did something about her rub you the wrong way. it was always like this, up until you knew about the big breakup

you were home as usual, and had taken your walkman to go walk at night like you usually did, but when you left your house, you saw steve on your porch, sitting silently. it didn't even seem like he was coming to talk or something, he just sat there for no reason.

"i think you got it mixed up" you spoke up, going down a few steps to where he was sitting, "your house is next door, not here" you say with furrowed eyebrows. but he didn't even look at you, he was just sat there.

"you probably already heard." he says and just keeps looking ahead, "nancy left me"

you in fact did not hear. "oh." was all that came out of you, you sigh and just sit beside him, placing the walkman beside you. "thats...weird. why? i thought you two were happy" you say and he just scoffs

"bullshit, apparently. all of it. should've known...im an idiot. girl like her, as if that would last" he mutters, more to himself than you

"hey, what?" you say, shaking your head quickly, "that's so wrong, steve. like--very wrong. you're a great guy, steve. i mean like...now--you became a great guy. and if she didn't see that and thought it's all bullshit then she's not worth it" you say, and he--finally looks at you.

"you really think so?" he asks, and you hesitate for a moment, before nodding.

"yeah, of course steve" you say, it was quiet for a while, the two of you just looking around, up until you got up and went back inside. he sighs to himself, thinking you left, until you came back with a pair of headphones. you sat back down beside him and grabbed the walkman again, plugging in a second pair of headphones, you hand him it.

he looks at you, hesitating for a moment before taking it, the two of you sat there quietly just listening to music. it was the very first time you two had even had a proper conversation--or even interaction together ever since you were kids.

ever since then, you two were always stopping by each others houses--even driving home or to school since you were both heading the same way. you got close quickly, and as much as you didnt expect it, you genuinely really liked it

you knew he changed, but you thought it was just a look. but he actually did, he was funny, really considerate and nice. you found yourself...actually feeling things for him. you always brushed it off, but to your luck, steve was a very expressive person, so he made sure to let you know he liked you back

it was all great, you didn't feel so lonely anymore. and you two were just...such a good pair. some would say even better than nancy. and you liked to think so too, until one day, you were heading to the basketball court to go see your boyfriend as usual. until you overheard tommy h and a few other guys talking to themselves, steve must've been in the locker room or something.

"how the hell are harrington and that girl together, i mean i don't get it--he and miss perfect break up, and he's already with the next girl? i don't buy it." tommy says, and one of them chimes in

"my girl says they love each other, it's total bull. we all know the real reason harrington's with her, she's a rebound. i mean--how do you get over a girl like nancy? you got a have at least a few replacements before finally moving on"

what? replacements? no--that's not right. you're sure steve likes you, genuinely likes you...right? it's not true, he's not that kind of guy. he wouldn't be using you like that, right?

you shake your head and quickly storm off, tears brewing in your eyes. you've been alone for so long, maybe you just didn't notice how he was using you? maybe you just jumped at the first chance to be with someone, so desperate?

that same day, steve was knocking and knocking on your door, when you didn't answer, he sighed and sat on the porch. for hours. waiting and waiting.

"baby i know something's wrong...please talk to me. don't...don't do this." he says as he knocks on your door one more time. he hears footsteps coming from the road, he quickly steps down the porch and rushes to the footsteps, hoping it was you.

he slows down as he sees nancy there. he furrows his eyebrows. what the hell was she doing here?

"what do you want?" he says and she just looks at him

"steve let's talk..." she says and he quickly shakes his head

"no...no absolutely not. i don't wanna have anything to do with you, don't you understand that nancy?" he says, while he's talking, you were opening the front door since you thought it's been too long.

to his luck, you were just behind him when he was talking to nancy.

"fine, fine you're right okay? i did get with her as a rebound...to--to forget you. is that what you wanted to hear?" he says and everything else quiets down in your head, they were right. they were all right. he doesn't like you, love you. he never did. how could he? you slowly walk away, your eyes distant and your face paling. how could you be so stupid to think something could ever work out for you?

but while you were lost in your own head, steve was still talking to nancy.

"but it's not like that anymore. don't you get that? i don't love you anymore, i don't even want to see your face. i wake up in the morning and the first thing i want to do is see her, she's so much better than you could ever be. i don't need you anymore, alright? you have to go nancy" he says and shakes his head, walking back to your front door, completely ignoring nancy's pleading for him to hear her out

"baby? you in there? please come out and talk to me" he sighs as he knocks on your door, but you were already gone. you had gone through the backdoor, he was gonna use you to forget some girl? you'll do worse. you were already on your way to the trailer park, tears in your eyes. you wanted to hurt him just like he hurt you, and what other way to do that other than be with the guy he hates more than anything?

a/n: hey guys i think this mightve been my worst work yet but ummm im posting it anyway, also i wanted to make it more sad but then it kind of turned into a revenge thing so idk, hope u enjoy thoo! <333

[batboysanonymous]

Withering for You

​​ Eris Vanserra x Reader

Summary: She was always there—loyal, unwavering, hers was a love that never faltered. But Eris never noticed, not until she began to disappear before his very eyes.

TW: ED

Based on the song: SKINNY by Billie Eilish

───────────────────────────────

"People say I look happy

Just because I got skinny But the old me is still me and maybe the real me And I think she's pretty."

The dress slid off her shoulders too easily. Y/N noticed it in the mirror, the way the fabric pooled around her collarbones instead of hugging them, how her wrists looked too small against the golden embroidery.

She should eat more today.

But then she thought of Eris.

Of the way his eyes never lingered, not on her—not the way they did on others. She had spent years by his side, always just close enough to be his most trusted confidant, but never close enough to be anything more. And gods, how she wanted to be more.

So she turned from the mirror, tightened the dress at the waist, and ignored the way her stomach clenched—not in hunger, but in longing.

"I never did you wrong

And my, my patience is gone."

Eris wasn’t sure when he started noticing the change.

Perhaps it was when her usual warmth dimmed, her laughter no longer echoing quite as vibrantly through the halls of the Autumn Court. Perhaps it was when he reached for her arm during a strategy meeting and felt how small she had become beneath his touch.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was when she stopped looking at him like he was the most important thing in the world.

He had grown used to her presence, to the quiet steadiness of her devotion. He never questioned it, never considered that one day it might not be there.

And yet, as he watched her across the great hall that evening, speaking softly to one of the nobles, he realized he hadn’t seen her eat all night.

She had always been radiant, but now… now she looked fragile, like autumn leaves on the verge of crumbling beneath the weight of the season.

For the first time in a long while, Eris felt unease curl in his chest.

"Am I acting my age now?

Am I already on the way out?"

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Y/N froze, her fingers tightening around the goblet of untouched wine. “No, I haven’t.”

Eris tilted his head, his fiery eyes scanning her with an intensity that made her stomach clench. “Lying never suited you.”

She sighed, setting the goblet down before turning to face him fully. “What do you want, Eris?”

A pause. A flicker of something unfamiliar in his gaze.

“When was the last time you ate?” he asked, voice softer than she had ever heard it.

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped her lips. “That’s what you want to ask me? Not why I’ve stopped chasing after you? Not why I’ve finally given up?”

Eris stiffened, his fingers curling into fists at his sides.

She shook her head, eyes burning as she forced herself to meet his gaze. “For years, Eris, I’ve loved you. I have stood by you, defended you, given you every part of me. And you never even looked at me.”

His lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

Her laugh was hollow. “It’s funny, really. People say I look happy now. That I’m beautiful. That I’m finally good enough. And you—” her voice cracked, “—you finally look at me. But I don’t think I want you to anymore.”

"I loved you for so long."

Eris didn’t sleep that night.

He couldn’t.

Her words replayed in his head over and over, taunting him with the truth he had been too blind to see.

She had always been there, always. He had taken her for granted, assumed she would always be within reach. And now… now she was slipping through his fingers, and it was his own damn fault.

By the time dawn broke over the Autumn Court, Eris had made his decision.

He found her in the gardens, sitting on the edge of the fountain, fingers trailing absentmindedly through the water. She didn’t look up as he approached, didn’t acknowledge his presence until he sank to his knees before her.

Her breath hitched. “Eris—”

“I was a fool.” His voice was raw, unsteady. “I thought… I thought I had all the time in the world to figure out what you meant to me. But I was wrong. And I see you now, Y/N.”

She swallowed hard, her eyes searching his.

Eris reached for her hand, cradling it between his own. “You don’t have to wither away for me to love you. You don’t have to change, to shrink yourself down, to carve away pieces of who you are. You were always enough.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and Eris caught it with his thumb, his hands trembling.

“I see you,” he whispered again, voice breaking. “And I am so, so sorry that it took me this long.”

Y/N exhaled shakily, her fingers tightening around his. And for the first time in a long while, she let herself believe him.

Maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t too late.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

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[berryispunk]

Insomniacs

pairing: Frankie Morales x f! reader

tags: friends to lovers, insomnia, mental health struggles (ptsd, depression), soft! Frankie, kissing, yearning, swearing, nicknames (hermosa), fluff, idiots in love, no smut, no physical description of reader apart from having hair

summary:  What if you can’t sleep and you call for your best friend to come over and suddenly everything changes ?

word count: 3,1 k

It’s nothing new that you can’t sleep. Dealing with various mental health stuff over the years and chronic pain on top, you should know better. 

You tried every sleeping aid under the sun; meditation, counting sheep, lavender on your pillow and melatonin. Nothing worked, so you started to build your life around it. Midnights became your afternoons to quote Taylor Swift. 

But you were creative, somehow still holding up the hope that it magically gets better or you’ll just get used to it. But it never happened. 

So tonight as the red numbers of your digital alarm clock illuminate your face, mocking you once again, you groan in frustration. You stare at the ceiling, watching the various colored lights of the cityscape dancing around and if you weren’t so damn defeated you would be able to find beauty in this, but you can’t. Not today. You reach for your phone charging on your nightstand and scroll mindlessly through social media. Minutes turn into an hour and you finally sit up in your bed, opening your messages app. It’s 2:30 a.m., who could possibly be awake at this hour? Your international friends? Yeah, for sure. But as you go through your various contacts you stop at one name, smiling to yourself as you press the call button. 

It takes three rings until a familiar deep voice fills your ears. 

“Hello?” the voice murmurs and you immediately feel guilty because you didn’t expect him to have been asleep. His voice sounds exhausted.

“Oh my god. Sorry Frankie, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” you apologize and he chuckles softly at the other end. 

“‘s alright, wasn’t really sleeping just… dozing off. What’s up, hermosa? It’s….” he pauses shortly. “It's, fuck, 2:32 at night. What is going on? Are you alright?” The worry in his voice is palpable and it’s one of the things you admire about him.

“Yeah, it’s the same old insomnia again and I figured why not call the one person that gets my pain?” you say apologetically and you can practically hear his smirk. 

“Us good old insomniacs, huh? Is it your brain or the pain this time?” he asks and you sigh heavily in response. 

“Probably a mix of both…” you sink deeper into your cushion. 

Frankie might be the only person you ever met who understands the struggles that come with lack of sleep. His military background and the resulting nightmares made him an ally in the cruel game that called itself life. The two of you spent countless nights like this, on the phone or texting, watching nonsense over whatever TV channel was on but you’ve never done one thing: late-night meetings. 

You weren’t sure if it was a secret agreement the both of you made that late night meetings were off-limits in all the time you’ve known each other, but tonight something felt different. 

“Hey Frankie?”

“Hm?”

“Why have we never met? At night, when we weren’t able to sleep… I mean, you only live on the other side of the city, not the world.”

The other end stays silent and you think you may have overstepped an up-to-now invisible line by asking. 

Then he clears his throat. “Would you want me to come over? You never asked and I never did, because no way in hell I let you wander alone through the night…” he clarifies and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Of course, ever the gentleman Frankie Morales did not want to risk your safety. 

“Well, what if I’d ask you to come over now?” You hear him swallowing heavily at the other end of line. 

You don’t even know why you’re wanting this all of a sudden, maybe you’ve finally lost your mind. It’s not like there isn’t some underlying tension between the two of you anyway. Mindless flirting and playful teasing is all part of your friendship. 

Frankie is way too trusting for his own good, getting screwed up by his lack of judgement concerning other people and his soft heart, even if he would never let the boys know. They would give him hell about it. But around you he’s let his guard down and you have deep conversations with him about all things going wrong and the few that haven't. He’s one of the few people who know about your troubled youth and strained relationship with your mother. You in turn are one of the few people that know the severity of his PTSD. 

He makes you feel heard like no guy has ever managed to do. He really looks at you when you’re talking and it always makes you feel giddy when he remembers little things you told him a while back. 

You like his attentive nature, but somehow you have never found yourself thinking of him as a potential partner, even if he’s awfully attractive with his broad shoulders and unruly dark curls. His million-watt smile that, if it’s honest, creates little wrinkles around his eyes and makes your own smile widen every damn time in return.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice strained and uncertain. 

“I am,” you say boldly even if you feel anything but.

Fuckin hell, why does your heart beat so fast? 

“Give me 20 minutes,” is the last thing you hear before the line goes dead. 

You immediately jump up from your bed and panic takes over. What were you thinking? What do you even expect to happen when he’s here? Or worse, what if he expects something to happen? No, he would never. It’s Frankie after all, he would’ve had plenty of chances to make approaches but he never has, always keeping a respectful distance. And now you wonder if he only kept it because you made it seem like you weren’t interested in more than a friendship? 

When you first met him, you actually had a little crush on him but held yourself back because you told yourself he was out of your league and he was in a relationship. Then they broke up, but he was in a new one only a few weeks later. It went on like that for a long time until you were taken. Your ex never liked the boys so you kept your distance and the estrangement grew until you broke up with the guy and picked up your friendships where you left off. 

It’s always been so easy to be with Frankie. You could be yourself around him, no need to pretend to be someone you’re not. He saw you in every state: drunk, crying, bed head and pajamas or all dolled-up for another unfulfilling date. He still looked at you the same and it gave you some sort of confidence you’re usually unable to muster. So right now you don’t even think about changing. You stay in your sleep shirt and shorts, no underwear whatsoever, because it doesn’t matter anyway. The only thing you do is brush your teeth and open the messy bun your hair has been in, making it fall loosely over your shoulders.

For a moment you wonder whether he wants anything specific to drink, but as you check your fridge you see that you have plenty of soda and beer - both beverages you know he enjoys. So you sit down on the sofa, only the soft dim light of the standing lamp in the corner illuminating the room and you grow nervous again. Why, you can’t tell. This isn’t different from all the other times you’ve met him, the only difference being it’s late at night. But then you remember the saying ‘nothing good happens after 2 am’ and you get restless all over again until a soft knock on the door announces his arrival. 

With a few quick steps you open the door, but only a crack and Frankie looks at you, tired brown eyes mustering you. He’s smiling as per usual and holds up a plastic bag. “I brought the pretzels you like so much.” 

You open the door all the way to let him in. He’s wearing grey sweatpants, the standard oil cap which has to be glued to his head at this point, and one of his worn-down band shirts. Sometimes you “borrow” one of them when he doesn’t notice. You’re actually wearing one right now. 

“Hi,” you grin as he places the plastic bag on the coffee table. 

“Hi yourself,” he grins back and his eyes wander over your figure for a moment as his smirk widens. “Is that my shirt?” he asks, one eyebrow raised questioningly. 

“Maybe,” you tease back, mirroring his smirk. “You want it back?” 

He shakes his head, lifting his signature cap to run a hand through his curls before he puts it back on. “Nah, looks better on you anyway,” he says and somehow it makes your cheeks turn a bit warmer.

“You want something to drink?” you ask, clearing your throat. 

“Yeah, a beer maybe? But please tell me you’ve got more than the muck from the gas station? Because that tastes like piss,” he complains and you laugh as you walk over to your kitchen, opening the fridge. 

“Well, good for you I have actual beer, some Corona even if you’re feeling fancy.”

“Oh, I feel very fancy, hermosa,” he laughs and leans over the kitchen countertop as you reach for the beer. You feel his gaze on your backside, but decide to say nothing. 

You place the beer on the counter, a soda in your hand, and the noise of it opening echoes loudly through the apartment. He opens his beer with a lighter before he takes the first sip. 

It’s quiet for a moment before you ask, “How’s that girl you were talking about last week? Cindy or what’s her name?”

He shrugs, a lopsided smile on his face. “You’re asking me about my dating life?” 

You frown, tilting the soda can in your hand before answering “Guess so.” 

“Didn’t see her again,” he simply states and something blooms inside of you. Is it relief?

“Ah, okay…” you say, trying not to let your emotions show too much. 

“And… you? How’s that guy you told me about? Jack?”

“Jacob,” you correct, not that it would matter. You met him once and it’s clear that he’s still very much in love with his ex-girlfriend.

“Yeah, Jacob, sorry,” he mumbles, rubbing his neck sheepishly. “How is he?”

“Guess he’s fine…I wouldn’t know, as I only went on a date with him once.”

“Oh.” “Oh?” you scoff and he chimes in with a chuckle. 

“Yeah, what else should I say? He didn’t seem like a good match for you.”

“You know, you never said that about any of the guys I dated.”

“They were all losers.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

“Shit, I‘m sorry…” he babbles but your eyebrows are furrowed.

“So tell me who’s a good match for me then?” You glare at him. It’s infuriating that he even thinks he’s allowed to judge you when he clearly isn’t better with all the girls he’s dated in the past. 

“Someone who really cares for you and sees you for who you are. Someone who treats you right and would do anything to make you happy, you know…” He’s fiddling with the label on the beer bottle. You just watch him, too stunned to speak as his words strike a chord. You know he’s right and that makes it hurt even more. 

“Maybe I’m just not made for a relationship,” you sigh as you take another sip of your soda, mimicking his stance by leaning across from him against the counter. 

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” 

“So what? You’re gonna tell me that there’s someone for me whom I just haven't met yet? That I didn’t search long or hard enough? I am 28, Frankie. I am tired of being in the dating pool. I just want… “ you exhale defeatedly. “I just want someone to come home to and who’s as happy to see me as I am to see him.”

“I am happy to see you,” he says quietly and it makes your heart miss a beat. 

“Yeah, but that’s not the same and you know it.”

“Why not?” he asks back, your eyebrows shooting up as he finally looks up from the bottle in his hand and places it onto the next available surface. “You’re a smart girl, hermosa. Don’t tell me you don’t know?” There’s indignation in his voice.

“Don’t know what?”

With one big step he closes the distance between you, standing so close to you you can clearly smell the last bit of his perfume he’s probably worn during the day and most of all you can smell him. The earthiness, musk and warmth are weirdly comforting as he looks down at you. 

“Do I have to spell it out for you or can you feel it as well?” he murmurs when you finally have the courage to meet his gaze, his eyes dark and searching. 

“Frankie, I–”

Suddenly he’s so close, so all-consuming it makes it hard to think. 

“Tell me you don’t feel it and I stop,” he whispers. You feel his breath on your face and the warm feeling inside your chest spreads further. 

Of course you’ve felt that way before, but you didn’t think too much about it, not wanting to risk this friendship that's so important to you. 

“I won’t,” you croak out and he smirks in response, the cocky smile he always has when he is certain about something. 

“Figured,” he continues before adding, “So tell me, how many of these dickheads do you want to date until you give the one guy a chance that really cares about you?” 

“But.. We are…”

“Friends? Yeah, and I want to be so much more than that to you. Do you really think I would drive through the city at this ungodly hour for just anyone?”

You search for his eyes again, slightly blushing and shaking your head. 

He starts playing with a lock of hair, curling it around his thick fingers which makes you incredibly nervous.

“I woke you up, didn’t I? And now you stand here at 3 in the morning… I feel horrible.”

“Well, I don’t. I’m glad you invited me over. Who needs sleep if I can be with you instead?”

You smile at that. 

“I’m still sorry.”

“No need,” he assures you. “There’s no place I’d rather be right now…” 

And his voice drips with honesty as his eyes lock with yours and the intensity of his gaze paired with his words make your breath hitch. Your eyes flick onto his plush lips which look so much more kissable up close and you bite your own lips. He mirrors the movement and suddenly his big hand rests on your cheek, his thumb caressing your cheek bone as he pulls you a tiny bit closer. You reach for his cheek in return, his patchy stubble tickling your hand and you part your lips as he takes the cue, dips his head and his lips are only a hair's breadth away from yours. 

“Can I kiss you now?” he whispers hoarsely against your lips and you just nod in agreement.

His lips capture yours in a soft, tentative kiss and your stomach does somersaults. You’ve wondered in the past what kissing him would feel like, but nothing could’ve prepared you for this. He knows exactly what he’s doing, his lips moving with purpose without being overbearing. The softness of his lips is a stark contrast to the slight scratch of his stubble against your skin. You practically melt into the kiss and you’re certain that no one has ever kissed you like this, so soft but purposefully determined it makes your head spin.

You tangle your hands in the soft locks on the ape of his neck as you deepen the kiss. He’s parting his lips voluntarily so you can invade his mouth with your tongue as his hand wanders from your cheek into your hair, cradling the back of your head. He presses you against the counter with his body weight as his other hand wanders to your hip, his fingers digging into the tender flesh under his shirt. As your tongues dance feverishly his breathing gets uneven, panting into the kiss and you can’t help but smile softly that he gets so worked up over a kiss. 

“You okay?” you whisper as you part to breathe, your foreheads touching. 

“Yeah,” he breathes “It’s just.. Fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long so I wanna get this right.”

You take his head between your hands, your thumbs stroking his cheeks now. 

“You’re doing everything right, Frankie,” you smile softly and his face lights up.

“Can I maybe take you out on a date first before I ravish you right here in your kitchen?”

You can’t help but laugh at that, an honest laugh not many people are able to elicit from you. 

“I’d love that,” you say softly and nuzzle your nose against his while his thumb draws small circles over your hip where your shirt rode up. 

Suddenly the tiredness comes back to you as you yawn heavily and he creates some distance to be able to look at you. 

“Do I bore you, hermosa?” “No!” you quickly protest. “But I’m tired all of a sudden…”

“No shit, it’s late. Let’s get you into bed, yeah?” 

He takes your hand and leads you to your bedroom where you fall headfirst into the pillow with a groan. 

“Frankie?” you call for him, lifting your head up slightly, his name suddenly sounding so big in the quietness of the night. 

“Yeah?” you hear faint footsteps as if he’s about to leave and the thought makes you sad.

“Would you mind staying?”

It’s deadly quiet for a moment before you hear the rustling of sheets and his weight next to you on the mattress. “Not at all,” he murmurs softly and you scoot closer to him, cuddling into his side as he puts his arm around your shoulders, his chin resting against your head. It feels so natural. It feels like coming home. You yawn and close your eyes again. 

“Thank you,” you murmur softly as your hand rests on his chest. 

“Anytime,” he says and then adds, “And just for the record, her name was Clara.”

“What?” 

“The girl I was on a date with, her name was Clara not Cindy. Not that it’d matter anyway because the only person I go on dates with from now on will be you,” he chuckles softly and you grin widely, even if he can’t see it. 

“Good to know,” you say sleepily and for the first time in weeks you drift off into a deep, restful sleep.

my masterlist - in case you're hungry for more :)

most recent work

[callme-holly]

Hi! I love your work sm! 💕 could you please do a reader x Dallas where the reader is a waitress and Dallas comes into the restaurant for her break and/or picks her up when her shift is over? Thank you!!! 💕

𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 [𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

a/n: ohhh i love this. dont know if its very good sorry... but i might be a little on and off soon as ive got 3 weeks of exams :(

The diner was bustling with it’s usual patrons, the sea of noise rising and falling in waves as people conversed and laughed, all social responsibilities seemingly forgotten inside. Every single booth was packed full, and you were getting quite tired of running back and forth every few minutes to tend to a new request at a new table. 

You were so caught up in trying not to drop a tray of milkshakes, holding it steadily as you weaved between a group of soc boys all crowding around a table, that you didn't even hear the bell tinkle above the door, nor did you notice when a familiar face strode in, leather jacket slung over his shoulder, an unlit cigarette between his lips.

Dallas watched you for a few moments, smirking as he made his way to the counter, sitting himself down with a huff on a barstool. He looked like some type of guard dog, all brooding expressions and narrowed eyes, a protective gleam in them as he observed the way you set down the drinks and smiled sweetly at the customers. 

Everything about you always seemed so genuine; the way you managed to talk to people and hold a conversation, the way you charmed them with that smile of yours that seemed to light up an entire room. You made everything seem so easy, and that’s why Dallas kept coming back to you. Every single time.

You worked your way around the diner, moving gracefully and taking orders in a way that was so efficient you put any other waitress to shame. The jukebox played lowly in the background, and you swayed subtly to the music, humming as you slowly headed back towards the counter; however, you stopped short the moment your eyes met his. You felt your whole face heat up, your cheeks flushing and embarresment flooding you. Your heart thumped wildly in your chest, and you couldn't help the smile that crept onto your face as you stepped towards him, allowing his arms to wind around your middle.

"What're you doing here?" you mumble, sparing embarrassment clock and letting your shoulders drop once you realise you were meant to be on break five minutes ago. With little to no hesitation, you grab him by the arm and pull him into the back room, letting the door swing shut behind you. It was much quieter there, away from the hum of noise and the sound of the diner's din.

Dallas grinned down at you, capturing your lips in a searing, almost desperate kiss. "What? Can't I visit my girl whilst she's on her break?" 

You let out a small laugh, rolling your eyes fondly and melting into him as his hands rested on your hips. "You're so full of yourself, you know that?" You teased playfully, stepping away eventually and making your way over to the sink in the corner, washing your hands free from the sticky residue of various drinks and the ink that had leaked from your pen. 

Dallas watched you closely, leaning back against the door, cockiness radiating off of him. "You look damn good in that uniform, baby. Did I ever tell you that?" 

You hum vaguely, nodding and reaching for a towel. "You've mentioned it before," you turn and let yourself rest against the lip of the sink, giving him a wary look. "What are you after, Winston?" 

"What makes you think I'm after something?" His eyes widen in mock innocence, and you give him a knowing look, raising your brows. He always plays sweet when he  wants something but is never quite sure of how to get it. It was just another little thing about him that you'd come to notice after all these months spent together. You're probably the only one to ever take notice of the way his eyes soften slightly when he looks at you, the slight curve in his mouth when he grins, and how he tries to hide it whenever it becomes too clear.

After a few moments, he huffs dramatically, kicking off the wall and  stalking forward until you can feel his body pressed up against yours, trapping you between him and the sink. "I just want to know what time you're off work, angel. That's all." 

His voice is surprisingly sweet, and you're stunned into silence for a few seconds, gazing up at him through fond, adoring eyes.

"4." You force out, stumbling slightly over the word as you add, "I finish at 4. A little earlier today. It's not as busy after then, so they won't need me." 

He nods slowly, processing what you're saying before  speaking again. "Good." The grin he gives you sends butterflies into your belly, and your breath hitches slightly as he leans closer to you, his hands now resting against the sink momentarily on either side of you. "Then I'll pick you up later, if you want."

Your gaze drops to his lips momentarily, before meeting his eyes and giving him a soft smile. "I'd like that." 

"I know you would. That's why I'm offering." He closes the distacnce between you both, the kisses getting more and more heated as they go on, and you have to remind yourself several times to breathe, ducking out from his hold with a laugh. 

"Dal... I only have like ten minutes left--" 

He cuts you off with a smug look, brushing your hair back. "So? I only need ten minutes, doll."  His thumb brushes lightly along your cheekbone, and you lean into the touch despite yourself.

"Smug bastard." You whisper, but you don't push him away again as he leans in for another kiss, simply allowing it to happen. 

[navybrat817]

For the valentine ficlet friday: Jame Mace and "I would like my good morning kiss now." Because in my head, the crew listened to his good sense and he didn't die.

He deserved better, nonnie!

Another Sunrise

Pairing: James Mace x Female Reader

Summary: Each sunrise is a new promise with James.

Word Count: Over 600

Warnings: Established relationship, fluff, sweetness, kisses, cuddling, reference to smut, James Mace (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You gazed out the bedroom window to watch the sky gently awaken. The deep indigo of the night always felt tranquil, but watching it turn to shades of orange and gold made you feel alive. The first sunrays cast a warm glow across the nearby water, making it shimmer in the light. Waves made James feel peaceful. Watching the sun continue to rise higher, the colors bright and intense as they spread behind the clouds, you felt a sense of peace, too. Because thanks to James and his crew, the sun hadn’t died.

Each sunrise was a new hope, the day ahead full of promise.

The sound of a familiar groan behind you made you smile. “Mmm. Why are you all the way over there?” James asked, his voice low and raspy.

“Was just watching the sunrise,” you answered. You would’ve woken him up to join, but he looked like he was sleeping well and you didn’t want to disturb him.

“Oh, yeah? Well. I would like my good morning kiss now.”

“James Mace wants a good morning kiss?

“Damn right. Now get over here,” he ordered with fondness reserved only for you.

The smile stayed on your face when you went back to bed. The second you were within reach he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer. You wouldn't have pegged James Mace as a cuddler when you met him, but he proved you wrong, especially when he came back from the mission.

You didn't hesitate to press your lips against his, your heart beating faster when he immediately deepened it. He could be blunt at times and couldn't always express himself with gentle words, but you never once doubted his love for you. In his kiss, you felt the same sense of hope and promise you did when you watched the sun come up.

Just as heat spread through the kiss, you pulled away to ask, “Do you ever miss it?”

“Miss what?” he asked, trying to recapture your lips with his.

“Being up there,” you said.

He was a brilliant engineer. A hero. Some days you wondered if being back on the ground with you was enough. You couldn’t blame him if he said he missed it or wanted to go up there again. Some people belonged in the sky. Who were you to clip his wings?

Running a hand across his buzzed head, he sighed. “Some days I miss the mission itself, having a goal and setting out to accomplish it. The view wasn't bad either,” he answered, a faraway look in his eyes. “But the crew didn’t listen to me half the time and it drove me nuts. And you know I’m always right.”

“Oh, yes. Always,” you teased. Blunt or not, he often spoke the truth and voiced unpopular opinions even if people didn’t want to hear it.

“Glad you agree,” he said, chuckling when you nudged him. “But that’s not where I want to be. I did my job and now I’m back here with you where I belong.”

When he pulled you back in for a kiss, you didn’t stop him this time. He didn’t always say he loved you with words, but you felt it in every kiss. He wordlessly promised that he would always be by your side. So you let him make love to you as the sun shone through the window. You cried out his name like a prayer and thanked whatever power there was for bringing him home safely.

And maybe tomorrow when you woke up to watch the sunrise, you’d ask him to join you.

Love and thanks for participating! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[rodger-eyeballis]

Have you ever gotten drunk before?

If yes:

How have you acted towards others around you or have you just even been able to suppress it or something else?

If no:

How do you think you would've been like? Basically the same question but you just give your thoughts

- The Other Curious Anon

(P.S, I do not know if a toon can even get drunk or not, also my apologies if someone has already asked!!)

” Fine first—class red wine is one of the detective's main friends in the darkest and darkest days. To put it bluntly, I'm not sure that I've ever been able to get drunk at the centre (because there's no way to ‘experience such pleasure’, which, oddly enough, is extremely logical. I don't have to explain why cartoon children's characters don't have alcohol?), but in my memories there were many such interesting cases, most of which are oh so not worth talking about.

In moments of intoxication, I often behaved like a bachelor heartthrob, reminding Casanova of showering girls in a bar with pretentious and inappropriate compliments.. Ah, youth (however, behind this facade, I was haunted by melancholic quirks that I would not like to talk about right now. It's just that when you see brutal murders for most of your life, sometimes you want to drink alcohol to death). There was one unforgettable evening when I went on stage half-naked and sang “Ready To Take A Chance Again” to a certain person completely out of tune and incorrectly.. GOD, why did I even remember that? Oh damn, it seems that this was actually addressed to Teagan.. No, no, stop going into my not-so-cultured past.. How could this even happen? What a shame..

However, finally, I wanted to share a secret that at the moment there is an extremely good whiskey in my stash. I found it by accident, while I was exploring a long time ago on the lower floor, where there was a human locker room. Young people have completely forgotten how to make high-quality hiding places with their illegal goods (let me remind you, I found it by ACCIDENT. This is how to hide things so that they can be found by accident). I can't imagine how the management could have missed such a clear violation of discipline among the employees. However, this is no longer my business. At this point, I'm thinking what should I do with them. Save for a rainy day or enjoy the long-awaited right now.. Let fate answer my question. ”

[my85volvo]

Prompt!

Okay so I reblogged this a few days ago and accidentially posted the unfinished version instead of saving it in my drafts, then accidentally deleted it, which is embarrasing but whatever. So here it is again. I didn't follow the prompt exactly but I was so inspired by all this angst!

Thanks @faladrast for the inspo!

"I...didn't think you'd come," Stiles whispered to the ground.

He was still tied to the iron chair that was bolted to the floor, his wrists and ankles burning from the tightly bound rope. The dead bodies of 3 hunters lay across the dimly lit cellar, and Derek stood over them with his claws unsheathed, soaked in blood. His eyes were glowing a deep Alpha red, brighter still against the contrast of the poorly lit room.

"Of course I came," the wolf spat out while striding toward Stiles. "Why the hell wouldn't I?"

He seemed...angry. Derek moved behind him and cut through his restraints.

"I'm sorry," Stiles said, voice shakey.

When Derek came back around to face him, he was still panting from the effort of ripping the captors apart. Stiles could tell he was concentrating on pulling back his shift, because he took a few breaths to close his eyes and sheathe his claws.

Once Derek opened his eyes again, they were back to the hazel green that Stiles remembered. Derek moved his hands to cup Stiles' face and rest their foreheads together.

"What the hell were you thinking? Don't ever run off on your own again. I thought--" Derek choked on his last words, choosing to gulp down the rest of his sentence rather that say it aloud.

When Stiles felt the pain in his aching muscles and raw skin start to fade, he pulled away from Derek's hands.

"I'm okay, really. You don't have to."

Derek scowled, but he stepped back to let Stiles stand on his own. He was a bit shakey at first, then managed to take a few steps with only a slight limp. What hurt more was knowing Derek came here and risked his life for someone he didn't even want to be with anymore. Stiles was glad that Derek still saw him as a friend, but he chastised himself since all he seemed to know how to do these days was be a burden on the wolf.

"Come on," Derek said, heading toward the door. "Stay close, there's probably more coming."

Stiles followed dutifully up the stairs, measuring his every breath, trying with all his willpower to just be good. He wanted to crack a stupid joke about being a damsel in distress or hug him so tight that Derek's stubble would imprint on his cheek. Honestly, he was so damn happy to see him that he almost forgot how much Derek must hate his rambling and clingy-ness.

Suddenly, Derek stopped in his tracks. He tilted his head to listen for something, then reached back and grabbed Stiles' hand to pull him along. The pair moved silently the rest of the way up the stairs, through the kitchen, out a sliding glass door, and into the dark tree line past the back yard. Derek didn't let go of his hand, and he didn't speak a word until they reached Stiles' rental sedan parked on a dirt path 20 minutes later. He noticed that his duffle was packed and tossed in the backseat. Derek must have found it at the motel, where it was left behind when Stiles was taken.

Refusing to hand over the keys, Derek sat on the driver's side and waited for Stiles to buckle himself in before speaking.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Derek asked with a frown. "Why did you just leave?"

"I just thought that it would be easier for you, if I left. I'm sorry that I...I'm sorry you had to come all the way out here."

"Why the hell would leaving make things easier for--" Derek stilled, his knuckles going white around his clenched fists.

When he turned toward Stiles, his face was blank. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something but must have thought better of it. Stiles waited, expecting more anger or annoyance or disappointment or all three. Instead, he stared at Stiles with an unreadable expression for several moments before finally speaking again.

"I see," replied Derek.

He started the car and slowly made his way down the muddy dirt path, eventually hitting a narrow, paved road a few minutes later. Stiles had no idea where they were, somewhere inland in Nova Scotia based on the lack of the salt-brine smell in the air, and they rode the entire way in silence. Derek would flex his hands and occasionally growl under his breath, but otherwise kept his eyes on the road. Stiles let quiet tears fall while he looked out the window, grateful that Derek didn't comment it.

Derek drove extra carefully, seemingly unconcerned that they would be followed, and ended up taking just over 3 and a half hours before pulling in front of a small cottage. It was going to be awkward staying here together, after everything. Stiles made a mental note to find an alarm and wake up early, so they could get out of here and to an airport as soon as possible. When they were parked, Stiles unbuckled his seatbelt but made no move to get out. Derek just sat there, staring straight ahead, frozen with a clenched jaw and rigid back.

"Just tell me what you want," said Derek.

"What?"

"Do you not feel safe with me? Do you need more space? I won't climb in your window anymore, if you want. I can also get you an apartment--something that's just yours, without me or your dad. I'll hire a coven to ward it, too. We can even install mountain ash frames if you need them." Derek turned toward him, his stern eyes transformed into ones of hope and longing.

"No, Derek, that's not--"

"Were you afraid to talk to me? Did you think I would get violent? Because I would never, Stiles. I would never hurt you, no matter how angry I got." Derek reached out to grab Stiles' hand, but withdrew before the touched. "I can go to therapy, or we could go together if that would help. I know I have a hard time talking, but I'll be better. I can learn, I can be better for you."

"Derek, you're fine. You don't have to keep trying. It's okay, really."

"Maybe it's okay for you, but it's not okay for me. Please, Stiles. Just tell me. Tell me what I have to do to get you to stay."

Stiles didn't want Derek to stay with him out of pity or obligation.

"Derek, you..." he started, unsure of how to continue without breaking down into sobs. "You deserve happiness. You don't have to stay with me because you think it's the right thing to do."

"...the right thing to do?"

"Look, I won't run off on my own again, okay? I really wasn't going after those hunters, I just needed to get away for a while and see the aurora borealis, but I guess one of them saw me at a bar and thought they could score some points with the Argents. So, if you want to be with someone else... I won't let it affect the pack. I just needed a bit of time to, you know, adjust to the idea."

"Stiles, what the hell are you talking about? I don't want to see anyone else. I want you, and not out of obligation. Because I--I love you."

They had only been together for a few months, and Derek never even said he liked him. Never said anything close to that, really. They just sort of...fell into bed together after a particularly close call with a pack of chimaras, and when Derek kept sticking around, Stiles thought they could be something more. But then the phone call, and the date, and...it made more sense that Derek would find someone better.

So, when Stiles heard those 3 little words come out of Derek's mouth, his heart felt like it was trying to leap out of his chest. He made a noise somewhere between a gasp and sob, and then the tears came. Derek dove across the bench seat and held him, pressing his face into the crook of Stiles' neck.

"I'm sorry," Derek said. "I'm sorry if that was too much, we don't have to be anything you don't want us to be. Just stay, Stiles. Please. I'll be whatever you want me to be."

"B--but," Stiles stuttered between sobs. "You s--said I was t--too much, and--and that woman, she--you looked so happy with her."

"What woman?" Derek pulled back to look Stiles in the eyes. "I never said you were too much, why would I ever say you were too much?"

Stiles wiped his eyes and looked at Derek. He seemed so vulnerable, so broken, and Stiles was only just beginning to realize that it was his fault. He was so, so wrong.

"I heard you on the phone talking about me. You said, 'He's too much, all the time, and I don't know what to do with him,' remember? Then I saw you on a date, smiling at some woman... you barely even smile at me, so it just seemed like... you were happy with her."

Derek sighed and rubbed his forehead, letting out a light chuckle.

"The thing that was 'too much' wasn't you. It was my instincts every time you left. Did you know I had to stop myself from following you home every time you walked out my door? Obviously I kept failing, because I was at your window every other night."

Derek lightly held Stiles' hands and looked straight into his eyes. Stiles listened in disbelief and tried to tamp down the constant flutter in his chest.

"And the woman? She was a party planner. I don't know how to... I wanted to do something nice for your birthday. Something you would really love. So she asked me to tell her about you. Our meeting was supposed to be 30 minutes, but I spent nearly an hour just talking about everything you like and how amazing you are."

"I'm sorry," Stiles threw himself at him, wrapping his arms around his back and clutching onto the leather jacket as tightly as he could. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry--I love you, I love you so much, and I thought you didn't want me anymore, and I didn't want to be a burden, and I was so miserable since I left, and I couldn't find a decent burger anywhere in that stupid little town, and I just thought of you the whole time and how I missed your cooking and the smell of your loft and how you liked to hold my--"

Derek stopped his rambling with a kiss so desperate that it had Stikes reeling. It wasn't gentle by any means, but it still felt like he was pouring every single ounce of love and want and need into his lips. Stiles melted under him, letting his mouth go lax as Derek held onto his jaw and guided his tongue where he pleased.

When he finally pulled away, they were both a little out of breath.

"If you ever thought I didn't want you, then that's my fault. One I will remedy immediately. And frequently," Derek said as he slid back to the driver's side and opened the door.

The slam was a bit excessive, but Stiles had no time to dwell on it because Derek actually leaped over the hood to open the door for him, then grabbed him around the waist and headed him over his shoulder.

There were many playful protests on the way into the cottage, but Derek didn't set him down until they were in the bathroom. He stripped him, somewhat rudely, and herded him into the shower. Derek removed his own clothes to join him, and he spent the next 20 minutes gently scrubbing every single inch of Stiles' skin. When Stiles made a move to turn their shower time into something much sexier, Derek pushed his hand away and continued to clean like he was on a mission, despite the very obvious growing situation between his legs.

Derek barely let him take a step the rest of the night. He got him dried and dressed, then bundled up and fed, then tucked into bed. If Stiles had any doubt about Derek's desire for him, it was squashed that night. The wolf spent hours worshipping his body with slow fingers and measured licks. He marked his pale skin with little bites and bruises covering his neck and shoulders. When they finally, finally made love, Stiles cried and begged and melted into him, and Derek whispered a never-ending stream of 'I love you' and 'you're perfect' and 'you're mine.' They didn't the little cabin all week.

I love misunderstanding fics.

Teen Wolf Sterek Prompt:

Stiles and Derek are in an established relationship. Stiles then overhears Derek on the phone, saying something like “I don’t know what to do about him.” Stiles assumes Derek is talking about him, and decides to surprise Derek during his lunch break and change his behavior because he assumes Derek is getting sick of him, when he sees Derek laughing with some girl. 

Stiles assumes Derek has been trying to break up with him/was cheating on him, and so he leaves Beacon Hills to go to Europe for a while, leaving just a note for Derek that says something like “Be happy.”

Derek is freaking out, not understanding what is going on, (because he wasn’t cheating and wasn’t talking about Stiles on the phone)

Nobody can get in contact with Stiles, but finally someone finds out where he went and Derek goes after him. 

There are a few just misses of almost running into each other. Maybe Stiles is practicing his magic or research skills with the packs he is running into or something. 

Then they meet. Maybe Derek saves Stiles’ life, and its super confusing what Stiles is talking about while they are still fighting the monster, before Derek figures out what happened, somebody kills the dang monster, and then there is lots of comfort and fluff and better communication all around. 

[broadwaybalogna]

Atla music headcanons

13 year old Zuko: Radiohead

[james-spooky]

this is a test

[gio-cosmo]

Guess who just bought a keychain of the Jin-eating-burger photo that I won’t stfu about!!!

[loumauve]

the goddamn toast water post just made me utter "history is fucking real" in the most solemn and serious tone of voice, out loud, to myself, in the goddamn bathtub

[medicinemane]

You know, looking at a diet soda can it occurs to me that it might not be so wretched to me if the cans weren't so unpleasant

Like we know that things like color play a role in how our brain perceives things, and I realized looking at the can that they're always this bland but at the same time nasty looking silver and it just... it looks foul and I think that compounds with the fact that I also just plain don't like diet soda

My point here isn't to say anyone else shouldn't like diet soda, just how I never realized how much of an impact the can has on me not liking it... there's just something offputting about it to me

[scrawnytreedemon]

What stupid names? Can I know the names?

Ghirahim, Sephiroth, Zant, Kirby... I'm blanking but I know I have so many more.

(shout-outs to Cris!!! love ya buddy xoxo)

Micolash is a perfectly respectable irl name(a Hungarian variation of "Nikolas", iirc), but on him it has such a Vibe but then again I am writing Him. The name is the least outrageous thing here lmao.

In general, I tend to like villains, and villains tend to have "stupid-as-fuck-on-a-real-person" names. They might be perfectly serviceable with titles, but the moment you take them into a more intimate setting it's just... Bro. You're getting called that, on a day-to-day basis?

God, so sorry for blanking out on the more ridiculous names, I know I have more... But I think the grandiosity of the first two should do plenty well.