#I know it's acting but...it still bothers me

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: break-up, angst, hung-up yandere, anger issues, insecurity, threats to regrets

♡ GN reader

Thinking about pro-athlete ex-boyfriend… 

You know, the one you broke up with because he couldn't focus on anything but his career, the one you just couldn’t stand by and watch any longer as he nearly ran his health into the ground—not to mention your relationship—all to reach his goals.

He’d been so mean—meaner than you ever thought possible when you told him you couldn’t do this anymore—said it was a real class act of you to abandon him now when it mattered most. He’d made it about you not wanting a no-known sportsman for a boyfriend, how you never believed in him anyway, how you never cheered for him, how he thinks you don’t even want to see him succeed. 

He’d been so loud and so ugly you’d been in shock for weeks afterward, unable to wrap your head around it. You didn’t even dare tell anyone—feeling it was a beast of burden you ought to keep for yourself. Oddly enough, you felt that if anyone knew or saw him like that, it would be not just detrimental to him and his image but embarrassing for you both.

And you hadn't spoken to him since. At least not face-to-face. He’d sent you a few drunk texts then and there, which you’d replied to in short, though mostly ignored. You’d thought about blocking him at one point, but you didn’t want to be dramatic, either. And suppose, in some way, you were still waiting for an apology.

But months passed, and nothing like it ever came, and so, instead of being bitter, you accepted that was just how the two of you ended. And that was that. 

Still, it's a little awkward. You wonder if you should congratulate him on his rise in popularity, how he’s finally getting all those long hours spent training back in full—but somehow, you feel it would just sound petty coming from you. And so, you don’t bother.

He’s got other people in his life cheering him on now—he doesn’t need a measly text from his ex. No, it's better to leave it be, is what you think.

Which is why it’s surprising when you get the dinner invitation. 

And following the initial surprise, you don’t really know what to expect of it either. But you end up accepting—some part out of curiosity, wondering what he might want after all this time, and another part hopeful it was to finally address the awful break up so that the both of you could move on without it hanging heavy over your heads and hearts.

This, however, was the last thing you had in mind when sitting down with him for the first time in a long time.

“Will you marry me?”

Your whole body flares up with something reminiscent of the feeling when you trip and fall—that type of split burn that rushes through you from head to toe and then leaves you feeling cold all over. Heart in your throat, you’re speechless.

Or no, you just don’t know where to begin.

“What are you doing?” you end up accusing—a little too harshly, maybe, but who could blame you? Looking around, you’re glad your table’s in a more private sector of the restaurant before you look back at him, eyes wide and brows knit. 

“I–we broke up a year ago and haven’t seen each other since—and you’re—” Your eyes fall back to the thing in his hands. It’s an outrageous ring. “Asking me to marry you?”

He makes no move to withdraw the offer—keeping his hands where they are, on your side of the table. “You said yes to the dinner. That must mean something. I thought—”

“Yeah. It means that I still worry about you,” you say. “It doesn't mean–”

“I fought my way up. I’m finally at the top,” he cuts you off in earnest. “I’m the best, and the world finally knows it now–”

“I don't care about any of that,” you state, feeling it should have been something you told him from the very beginning. “I'm sorry. But I never cared about you being the best. I just wanted…”

You just wanted the two of you to be like other couples—together and happy. You just wanted that to be enough, but it never was for him.

“Never mind…” you end up saying. “I think I should go.”

You’re about to get up when his hand, suddenly around your wrist, tightens in a harsh grip.

“I don't think you understand,” he utters, voice lowered with a hint of a growl. “It’s either this ring or I bury you in rumors that won’t leave you a moment’s worth of peace.” 

You go stiff while looking back at him.

Did he just… did he just threaten you?

You blink. He's got that same warped expression you remember from the last time you saw him, that very odd look as if the guy you know has been switched out with someone entirely different.

Only this time, it just as quickly disappears, and he lets go of your wrist, quickly pulling his hand to himself.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that–I’m just—” he apologizes with a stutter, looking startled.

He puts his face in his hands. Then there's a sound—close to a sob.

“I’m just a mess without you.”

Goosebumps rise on the surface of your skin when hearing it. And swallowing thickly, you sit back down again, albeit a bit begrudgingly. But spotting how he trembles, you just can’t stop feeling sorry for him.

You sigh. “No, you’re not. You just…” Reaching across the table, you stroke his arm. “You just lose your head a little sometimes, that’s all.” 

He peaks up from his hands. A sheen under his eyes reflects the ceiling light, and your heart twists in your chest.

He really is a mess.

“But I know you…” you try smiling. “You were always destined for greatness.”

He takes your offered hand in his, stroking it, then sniffs, voice fluttering weakly, “Yeah, well…”

He keeps his head low, resting it in his other hand as if he just couldn't muster the strength to sit straight or even attempt to pull himself together.

“If I'm such a great guy, why wouldn’t you stay?”

He sounds as if he’s been holding things back for the entirety of the year since you left. Broken now... it's all spilling out.

“Because," you start, even though your throat’s tight and you’re fighting back tears of your own, your mind hasn’t changed.

You didn’t come here to get back together. 

"You want to go places, I just can’t follow.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks, Enji ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins ♡ CSM – Aki ♡ BLLK – Reo, Isagi, Rin, Sae, Yukimiya, Karasu, Shido ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi ♡ WB – Sakura, Suo, Kaji

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[thepitlanepress]

PUT ME DOWN –

↳ max verstappen + gf!reader

⌗ :: masterlist

⌗ :: a/n: i come back from the dead!! jk lol the hiatus was good and it is nice being here but lets be fr i only came back for the fics. part 3 of the lando fic will be out soon !!

max is a stubborn man.

you know that. what you also know is that you're a stubborn girl.

so when you hurt your ankle on the stairs leaving some event you weren't paying attention to, you don't tell max, simply smiling through the pain and limping slightly, not wanting to bother max on his night.

the only problem was that max could tell something was off, turning to look at you every so often with a concerned look in his eyes as you made your way through the crowd of people, and whispering occasionally, "is everything alright?"

you tell him that you're fine and to stop worrying but again something about your act is off and max can clearly tell something is wrong.

so right then amidst the swarming crowd of fans and paparazzi he - gently - pulls you along, back into the building and away from the prying eyes of the public.

"what is wrong schat?" his voice is quiet and the dip between his brows only increases when you lower yourself onto the stairs trying not to wince.

"i knew something was up," he murmurs sitting down beside you. "what happened liefje?" he says wrapping an arm around your shoulders and rubbing softly.

"i fell on the stairs earlier, some asshole dropped an oyster on the floor and i slipped on it," you say grimacing and trying to lift your foot to see what the damage is.

max lets go and drops down a few steps then, gently lifting your dress up and inspecting your ankle. you wince when he touches it and he definitely has a frown on his face now.

"how did you manage to walk on this liefje? its purple."

"magic?" you try and joke to lighten the mood, but from the prominent concern on his face it didn't help much.

"yn, you can't walk on this," he says looking up at you from where he's crouched.

"but i have to, we have to get to the car," you say trying to shake his touch off, trying to ignore how how loving and gentle it is to stand up.

"i'll carry you."

"the car is like halfway down the hill! and there are too many people outside for you to carry me," you protest, but before you can get another word out he has scooped you into his arms and started towards the door. "max! put me down!" you squeal.

"no, i will not be putting you down until you're safely in that car okay? liefje, i love you, let me take care of you," he murmurs placing a kiss to your forehead and pushing the door open with his shoulder.

"i could say the same for you," you mutter rolling your eyes, knowing just how stubborn max can be after a tough race. he eventually caves though, for you. and only for you.

"thats an argument for another day," he chuckles as you round the corner and head straight into the crowd.

max true to his word, doesn't put you down until the car, fending off the invasive paparazzi and fans like he promised, careful not to hurt your foot anymore than it already is.

"see its not too bad letting me take care of you is it?" he smirks as he exits the larger crowd and now just dodges the few fews that wait for a glimpse of him, pressing a kiss onto your shoulder.

"i still vote you put me down."

"oh hush."

2025 © thepitlanepress | please do not steal, use, translate or repost any of my works

– comments, likes and reblogs appreciated !

[vssail]

kiss it better | robin x reader

a/n: english is not my first language! // 468 words

again, this was going to be about jaybin, but it could fit any robin (maybe a little ooc for damian). choose your fav and have fun reading!

"Hold still" you hissed at Robin. Your anger from exhaustion was obvious.

He made the effort not to move, but he couldn't help but flinch after you applied antiseptic to one of his scratches.

"God, this could qualify as torture, you know?" 

"If I torture you so much, next time wake someone else to patch you up!" you half-hissed, half-yelled. Yeah, you were angry.

He didn't answer (there was nothing he could say back). You were right, he shouldn't have bothered you so late at night. But Batman wasn't in town, Alfred would be angry for being careless (just a bit), and he kind of missed you. So yeah, he knocked on your window in the middle of the night with a first-aid kit in hand.

You continued working on him in silence, and he took the time to study your face. Even though you looked tired, your eyes were determined on patching him. Your eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. He didn't like the tension in your face.

While you were finishing bandaging his arm (it definitely took the worst damage), a hand rested on your cheek, caressing your face. With the other hand, he smoothed the crease on your forehead, trying to soften it.

"I'm sorry for bothering you," he murmured. "You should rest."

You left the bandages on your lap and placed a hand over his, still resting on your cheek.

"I saw you on TV," you whispered, a bit ashamed of what you were saying. "You were acting careless. And then I saw you getting thrown through a window."

He gave you a soft smile.

"Don't worry so much... your favorite Robin is safe and sound." 

"Not so safe and sound – that cut on your arm is terrible" you scolded. But a small smirk started forming on your face. "And who said you were my favorite?" you teased him, taking the bandages again.

He pretended to look hurt by that, only making you smile. The two of you continued with your own chores: you patching him, him studying the little smile still on your face. He loved making you happy. Both of you lost track of time until you finished.

"So... am I getting a lollipop after this or-" 

You cut him off, suddenly kissing the bandage on his arm. When you pulled back, you were greeted with a flustered, out-of-words Robin. He was completely still, frozen and red, his usual smirk gone.

"Robin?" you asked, trying to get him to Earth again.

"Uh?" he answered, but still looked like he was in another world.

You tried — really tried — not to smile, but it was impossible. The sight was too good for that. 

"Wh-What did you just do?" he babbled.

"...Kiss it better?"

He looked at you firmly.

"You're gonna be the death of me."

[softness-and-shattering]

Most of my autistic friends expect that their friendships will one day out of the blue blow up in their face as people vent built-up frustrations about behaviours that annoyed others that was never ever communicated to them, and/or because of whats called "the double empathy problem" which describes one of the main ways allistic-autistic communication goes sideways. Ive been in social groups - discord type groups - where the autistics get kicked out because we are speaking plainly and askingd questions, and the mods or admin or other authority figures interpret these questions as deliberate insubordination and challenges to their authority, get "tired and fed up" with "the disrespect" and start kicking people. I have seen this happen in disability groups.

And its not all black and white. Like sometimes I can pick up on social cues because I have deliberately learned them, or learned them the hard way. I can even sometimes say one thing and mean another, but I dont often. I might pick up on one cue and totally miss another. Sometimes I just dont know why someone is saying something, theyre obviously implying something but I dont know what. This can get tricky when someone wants to indicate something without being able to be quoted about it, and sometimes I need to ask them to clarify and if theyre still dodgy I have to guess and hope I got it right.

And sometimes we're aware of unspoken rules but we dont recognise their authority over us because theyre bad or nonsensical. We tend to stick to rules if we understand them and they make sense. When theyre crap rules, I dont care how much money someone makes I will treat them the same as everyone else. I dont care how many high status cars someone has, we are equals.

Im getting off track - my point is that basically every autistic I know has ongoing trauma of friendships and social groups suddenly turning on them for no discernable reason and no warning and absolutely no previous indication that anything was wrong - sometimes after being explicitly told everything was ok the day before. This happens to us all the time. Its so damaging and so hurtful.

Personally I dont second guess as a general rule. I someone has a problem with me I trust they will tell me about it and we can problem solve and introspect. If Im not told, no matter what vibes Im picking up bc I dont know if the vibes are real or my own anxieties, I will act like nothing is wrong. If someone wants to blow up at me that has reflects zero on me and entirely on their inability to speak up about whatever was bothering them. Thats not a me problem. I cannot do anything with zero information.

Lemme induct you in an autistic way of bring and introduce you to a script you can use. Something like "hi friend, can I talk to you for a second about the meeting yesterday? [If Y continue, if N ask when you can talk to them about it.*] So I dont know if you noticed, but you spent the whole time tapping your fingernails on the table, and honestly the noise was distracting and mightve been irritating for some people. I just thought you should know bevause I dont think anyone else was going to bring it up with you. Could you please find a quieter way to stim/do what you need to/move in the ways you need to to concentrate. Ok thank you, no ones super upset just mildly irritated I think. I just figured someone should actually tell you"

Or even "hi. You spent the whole meeting earlier tapping on the table and it was pretty loud. Could you please find a way to be quieter in meetings, its just a bit distracting for some people? Awesome thank you".

Just be polite and straightforward, say what you want and what the problem is. Assume competence, sometimes we make deliberate choices against the status quo for important reasons not cluelessness. And give time for them to figure out an alternative, be undsrstanding if they cant. Just use your words, communicate clearly. It might feel a little confrontational but believe me its not as bad as bring dropped as a friend or fired out of nowhere. That sucks**

*Dont just say "can we talk", give a reason, otherwise they will likely spend the time between notification and meeting inventing every worse case scenario they can possibly think of. A couple words of context goes a long way.

** I came across a youtuber who, idk for sure if theyre autistic but they talk with an extremely flat effect (meaning, little tonal variance between words, not much expression in the voice, every word comes out more or less the same, "robotic"), which is an autistic trait. They mentioned in a video that they had a 'normal' job before youtube, until one day they found themself fired, given reason was their flat effect scared people and made them seem unfriendly and unhappy to be there and interacting. Sounded like it was completely out of the blue. Thats a job lost due to ableism though possibly no one involved sees it that way. Some people cant change how they speak or dont want to. Shouldnt have to. But at least mention it, see if the person is willing to adjust, and consider if it truly disqualifies them from being able to perform the job or is it just a little unusual.

I saw some snippet of a callout post for an autistic trans woman where they list social faux pas she committed, and I think we allistic people should all feel 100x more ashamed of not telling people in the moment how we feel about what they're doing. I think its extremely evil and cruel to not only lie to an autistic person and blame them for it but also to feel justified shaming them for your behavior. And it's currently the social norm to do that

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Doing Time 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, threats, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you try to keep your brother safe in jail but put yourself in danger along the way.

Characters: con/ex-con!Steve Rogers

Note: I need the weekend to come so I can cum

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"Things aren't too bad. Not since I got my ass kicked," Vaughn chortles. "Mighta knocked some sense into this thick skull at last."

"Hopefully," you agree. "Mom said--"

"I tried calling. She didn't pick up."

"Oh..."

"Why-- Why should I even bother?" His humour fades to hostility, "and why are you acting like you're my mother? When she does answer, she just calls me a fuck up. Like I don't fucking know."

"Vaughn," you hum, "please, I'm not trying to piss you off."

"But you are," he snarls. "Always gotta ruin a good time, don't ya?"

You frown. This is the Vaughn you don't know. The one with the anger like a grenade pin. One tug and it's over. You sit back and wait. Arguing only fuels the flames.

"You're the one person who's s'posed to believe in me and you're nagging me about mom," he snarls.

You look away guiltily. You wonder how he'd react if you told him about Steve. If you mentioned that the reason things 'aren't too bad' is because you did something just as stupid as him. Somehow, you don't think that him knowing you do dumb stuff too will help.

He tugs at his cuffs. The guards come forward. You say his name again.

"Vaughn, please--"

"Piss off! Yeah, you meat head, get me outta here," he turns his wrath on the guard. "Waste of my time."

"Please, I didn't-- I just--"

"I told you not to talk about it no more," he barks. He did. You didn't listen.

Your eyes well. You don't know what happened to him. Where did all this anger come from? As you watch the guards unhook him and he stomps away, you can only think you may have made a good decision talking to Steve. At least there's someone in there who can help. Or try to.

You wiggle your nose and dab your eyes with your knuckle. That was embarrassing as much as it was scary. The guard on the other side returns.

"We'll bring the next early, miss."

"Thanks," you nod. You recognise him. You realise most of the guards must know your face too. It's so strange to think this is a normal part of your life now. That this has become your social life as late.

It isn't long before Steve appears. He sits calmly lets himself be leashed. He leans forward and takes the receiver. You still have yours in hand but it's against the table. You lift it.

"Couldn't wait to see me, huh?" He purrs.

Your cheeks draw tight, "how are you?"

"Mm," he narrows his eyes as he looks you over. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing, Steve," you swallow the dregs of your tears. "Really. It was an early morning."

He stares a little longer, the lines deepening in his forehead. His eyes meet yours. His aquamarine irises are speckled with gold and silver. He takes a breath and tuts.

"You were crying."

"No, Steve, it's nothing."

"That brat brother of yours," he nods as his expression turns dangerous.

"Please, Steve, not you too. Okay? It's... a sibling spat. That's all," you assure him. You wish you were as transparent as the window between you.

"I don't like that. I had family coming to see me, I'd be nice," he snarls.

"It's not your problem."

"That's where you're wrong, sweetheart. You made it my problem when you started coming around." He insists.

You chew your lip, "I know..."

"I'm not complaining, so you know," he leans back. "Kinda used to ya now."

"Thanks," you utter grimly and stare at the desk.

"Hey," he says and your eyes flick back up. "I didn't drag myself out here to see you mope."

You swallow and push away the rest of your chagrin, "sorry, I... better?"

"How can that face get any better?" He winks. You squirm.

He's been more forward lately. You assure yourself that it's just him playing with you. He's bored and you're the only person he talks to that isn't a guard or an inmate.

"That's... Right. Um, I guess it was dumb to ask how it's going," you scoff at yourself.

"It's going good, now I'm here," he runs his hand over his mouth, feeling his cheeks, "fresh shave this morning. Looking good, huh?"

You let your eyes focus. You can tell. His chiseled jaw is bare, not one speck of stubble. And his blond hair is parted and combed back. It's getting a bit long.

"You look refreshed."

"Well, I got something coming up later today."

"Another visitor?" You wonder.

"Lawyer," he shrugs. "No big thing. I got business on the outside still. Power of attorney or whatever."

"Mm," you hum.

"Boring stuff. What about you? Besides that idiot you call a brother, how's life?"

"It's life," you say. "Go to work, come home, sleep, it's all the same."

"Huh, sounds like being in here," he snorts. "Lonely?"

You don't realise at first, he's asking.

"I guess. Thought about getting a cat."

"Ah, you're young. Probably wait a few years before that," he chirps.

You tilt your head wryly, "no harm starting early."

"You're funny, sweetheart."

"Am I?" You wonder dryly.

"Well, the things they think are funny in here..." he makes a face. "You know, I wouldn't tell a lady all that, but it's low brow."

"Right."

"I'm still trying to figure you out, you know? Your brother, well, not to pile on top but he's not exactly a model citizen, but you, you're practical, considerate, you make stuffed chicken and pesto. I can't help but wonder how you're not adopted," he snickers.

"Life is strange."

"Isn't it? Never saw some girl knocking on my cell door but here we are," he drawls.

"Here we are," you agree. He smiles and bites his thumb. You shift as his eyes sparkle.

"I might never get outta of this place, but at least I can see a pretty face now and again," he growls.

Yep, at least he'll never get out. You just need to hope Vaughn doesn't get any time added and it will all be over soon. 

⛓️‍💥

It's the first night Steve doesn't call. You're a bit disturbed by how it seems to throw the whole evening off. It's not like you're friends. He's an obligation. You should be happy to have one less thing on your plate.

You take a long bath, your phone on the back of the toilet, the ringer set to chirp. But it doesn't. The soak isn't enough to ease your nerves.

If something happened to him, what about Vaughn? It's a selfish worry but you can't help it. How could that even happen? Steve has this invincibility about him. You just can't believe it.

You get out and dry yourself off slowly. You're achy from sitting on your ass all day. Admin work isn't very thrilling. You stretch and rub the cushion of your bottom, the muscles easing beneath the layer of padding. You've always had a bit extra. It never bothered you as much as it bothers men. Your brother used to beat up any guy he heard hurling insults at you.

It's not your biggest care in the world. You tend to eat those away. Your sweet tooth hardly helps.

You put on a night shirt and lay awake for a while. Even when you do sleep, it's not peaceful. You dream of iron bars and blood on the floor. You wake with a thumping in your temples.

You dress for work. Your stretch-waist grey pants and the silk blouse with roses on the collar. You pack your lunch and brew your coffee, honey and a dash of almond milk splashed in. You leave with your bag and thermos.

The traffic around the clinic is always clogged. You get in with two minutes to spare. You sit behind the window and the phone rings as soon as opening hour strikes. You're swept up in the demands of patients and doctors alike. One thing you can't complain for how quickly the days fly.

You eat your lunch in your car. You cherish the moments you're not surrounded by sniffling, coughing, and complaining. You head back in and finish the last half, yawning at the monitor.

It's even busier when you pull out into the street. You let the music flow into your ears and distract you. You tap the pedal as you slog along. Finally, you get to a side street and cut a zig zag across town. You pull up to your building and linger in your car.

You have this eerie feeling. You glance over at the unfamiliar car parked facing the brick. The sleek white muscle car is vintage and polished to a shine. Someone loves that thing.

You get out of your dusty Honda and snatch your bag from the passenger's seat. You tap your fob and enter through the side. You stop before the elevator and turn back. You should at least try to get a few steps in. You take the stairs.

You stare at your pointed flats as you drag your soles over the carpet. You smother a yawn behind your hand. A throat clears. You move over, thinking someone's coming your way. You stir in your bag for your keys. Your name brings your chin up.

You gasp and drop your keys. You teeter as you nearly spin and sprint away. Your bag slips and you barely catch the strap. You gape at Steve as he stands beside your door.

Silence wafts around you with the smell of cooking and laundry. He holds a bouquet of classic red roses. He sports a tailored suit in black that puts his prison uniform to shame. The collar is crisp and the tie perfectly knotted. His jawline is shaved and his hair is styled down to the strand.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greets with a smirk.

You wordlessly bend to pick up your keys then stand and fix your bag on your shoulder. Your eyes glaze in disbelief and horror. A million questions flurry to a storm of terror.

"How..."

"Appeal went through. They turned over my conviction," he struts away from the wall. "These are for you, sweetheart."

You look at the petals then at him as he comes close. Your shoulders sag as you shrink down at the breadth of his shadow. He's even bigger like that. You shudder, the lack of barrier unsettling.

"I got you speechless," he intones and grabs the strap of your bag. "Look like you had a long day, let me take a load off."

He takes your bag then guides your hand to the bouquet. You close your mouth and gulp. He sweeps away your keys and hooks his arm through yours. You let him lead you to the door of your apartment. He swings it open and you flinch.

"Wait, Steve, how did you-- how do you know where I live?" You quaver.

"Told you, I got friends on the outside. You don't think I'd leave you unprotected--"

"Wait, wait," you plead as you face him, untangling your arm from his. "How is this real? How are you here? How- Why-- You don't think--"

"I think I spent months talking to you and you spent the same time coming to me. It's not what I think, it's what I know," he insists. You choke.

If his conviction was flipped, maybe that means he isn't so bad. No, no, you heard of what he did in there. He's dangerous. Whether he did what the court said he didn't or not.

He waves you in, "come on, we can take it slow. We'll talk, like old times."

You shake your head but enter. You see no other choice. You're too stunned to think of any.

He follows and pulls the key free of the door before shutting it. He hangs them on the little hook beside the frame. He faces you as you focus on slipping off your flats. He puts your bag on the top of the small shelf where you store your mitts and whatnot.

He whistles, "you look... good. I mean, I never got the full angle." He steps back and you feel him raking you with his eyes. "Got a nice shape..."

"Steve," you snap and face him. "I... I never..." you pace yourself and take a breath. "The flowers are lovely, thank you. And I appreciate you coming by but I think there's a bit of a miscommunication." You turn and slowly inch away. You spin around as he watches you, his expression betraying nothing. "I only talked to you to keep Vaughn safe."

He sighs and his eyes narrow. His brows tilt slightly and his jaw squares. He nods and smooths the front of his jacket.

"Well, sweetheart, I went and got a new suit for you."

"I'm sorry--"

"No, get this," he strides forward and stops before you. "Whether it was for me, for you, or for that scum you call a brother, it happened and it's not over. You got me? I might be out but I got men inside. Men who are willing to do a lot worse than me," he snarls.

You shudder and he grabs your chin. You whimper. "I wanna be nice to you, sweetheart. That's all I've been dreaming of. I went out, got all dressed up, got you flowers, now you do me a favour, go put a dress on so I can take you out for dinner." He sniffs and squeezes just until your jaw throbs, "see, I'm still doing stuff for you. I'm not asking much except you to come out and look pretty."

He lets go and you stagger back. You sniffle and quickly hide your face. Your voice comes out hoarse, "I'll put these in water first."

Your heart races and you go into the kitchen. You find a vase and focus on filling it. You put the flowers in and toss the paper cone. He looms in the doorway.

"I'll find something to put on, okay?" Your voice cracks.

You cross the kitchen and he stays firmly in your path. He brings his knuckle up under your chin and forces your face up.

"Smile, sweetheart," he growls. "We're together. At last."

[hishumanbellestories]

The argument had started over something small—so small that, in hindsight, it seemed ridiculous. A careless remark, a sharp response, tension that had been simmering beneath the surface until it boiled over. But neither of you had backed down. Alastor, always grinning, had looked anything but amused, and you, too hurt to see past your own anger, had turned your back on him and walked away.

And then, he was gone.

Not physically—Alastor still haunted the hotel like a specter, his presence lingering in the shadows, but he was avoiding you. It was deliberate, and it stung. At first, you told yourself it was fine. If he wanted to be childish, so be it. You could avoid him just as easily.

But the days dragged on, and the ache in your chest grew unbearable. You missed him. His insufferable laughter, the way he always seemed to know just what to say, even when it drove you mad. You missed the glint in his eyes when he teased you, the way he could make the world feel a little less heavy, even in Hell. And the fact that he had vanished from your life without a word—it hurt more than you wanted to admit.

Still, pride kept you from seeking him out.

And then Charlie and Angel came to you.

“He’s not okay,” Charlie said, arms crossed, worry clear in her expression. “I know he acts like nothing ever bothers him, but this—this is different.”

Angel sighed, leaning against the doorway. “Look, babe, I don’t know what happened between you two, but Al’s losin’ it. He’s not himself. And if he’s not okay, something’s seriously wrong.”

Your heart clenched. Alastor, not okay? He was always in control, always composed. But the worry in Charlie’s eyes and the rare seriousness in Angel’s tone told you everything.

“What do you mean?” you asked, hesitant. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer.

Charlie bit her lip. “He’s been… off. More distant than usual. He still talks, he still smiles, but it’s not real. It’s like he’s going through the motions. It’s like he’s trying to pretend he’s fine, but he’s not.”

Angel nodded. “He’s avoidin’ everyone, not just you. But whenever your name comes up? He either changes the subject or disappears entirely.”

The air felt heavy, suffocating. You swallowed hard, your chest tightening.

“I thought he was avoiding me because he was angry,” you admitted quietly.

Charlie shook her head. “I don’t think it’s that simple.”

It wasn’t. And deep down, you knew it. Alastor didn’t get angry like this. He played with emotions like a master puppeteer, always in control, always detached. If he was avoiding you, if he was truly unraveling, then something was very, very wrong.

And you needed to find out why.

Alastor wasn’t easy to find when he didn’t want to be found. But you knew him well enough to guess where he might retreat when the weight of his thoughts grew too heavy. And sure enough, you found him standing by the grand radio in one of the hotel’s abandoned rooms, fingers resting lightly on the dials, his head tilted as if listening to something only he could hear.

You hesitated in the doorway, suddenly unsure.

He must have sensed you, because his back stiffened, and for a moment, he didn’t turn. Then, slowly, he glanced over his shoulder, eyes meeting yours.

You had expected the usual mask—the ever-present, mocking grin, the glint of mischief in his gaze. But what you saw instead made your breath hitch.

He looked tired. Not physically, but emotionally. Hollow, haunted. And though his lips curled upward, the smile never reached his eyes.

“Well, well,” he said, voice light, almost forced. “Come to yell at me some more?”

The words stung, but there was no real venom in them. Just exhaustion.

You stepped forward. “Charlie and Angel are worried about you.”

His smile widened. “How touching.”

You frowned. “I am worried about you.”

For the briefest second, something flickered in his expression—something raw, something real. But then it was gone, buried beneath that infuriating grin.

“Oh, my dear,” he laughed, but it was hollow. “There’s no need for that. I’m perfectly fine.”

“You’re not,” you countered, voice softer now. “Alastor, what’s going on?”

Silence stretched between you. He turned away, fingers tightening on the radio dial, as if grounding himself.

“I realized something,” he finally murmured, so quiet you almost didn’t hear. “Something… unfortunate.”

You waited, heart pounding.

“I thought I could be satisfied with what we had,” he continued, voice distant, as though speaking to himself. “A delightful little friendship, a bit of amusement to pass the time. But then—then I lost it. And I realized…” he let out a hollow laugh. “How very foolish of me.”

You stepped closer. “Alastor—”

He turned then, and for the first time, he looked afraid.

“You should leave,” he said, almost desperate. “Go. Before I make things worse.”

Your chest tightened. “Al—”

“PLEASE...”

He never begged. Not Alastor. But this wasn’t the Radio Demon speaking. This was Alastor, the man beneath the mask, raw and vulnerable in a way you had never seen before.

And it shattered you.

Because now you understood.

This wasn’t just about the argument. This wasn’t just about losing a friend.

Alastor had realized something far more terrifying.

He was in love with you.

And he believed, with every fiber of his being, that he did not deserve you.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Valentine's Day! I love your work! fma? Something with havoc? Or something with Leon from Merlin?

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

They spend a lot of time talking with Ed, but not that much time talking about him, comparatively. It's like the bar is it's own private space, somehow separated from the real world and all its accompanying complications. It's like Ed's pulled a piece of Resembool into Central through the force of is presence alone.

Which means Havoc's not expecting it when they're all at the office working late, except for Roy for reasons the rest of them are trying not to worry too much over, and Maes leans against his desk and says, "So. Edward."

His head pops up, looking around, but it's just the rest of their office who's also staring at Maes.

Maes rolls his eyes. "We're not bugged right now. It's fine."

The right now should really concern him more than it does. "Okay. What about him?"

"You're the one that knew him first, right?" he asks.

He nods warily.

"Did you know about his brother?"

Havoc stares. Like anyone could know Ed without knowing Al. The two of them had been joined at the hip as kids. They still were, really, since Ed is willing to tolerate city life so Al can teach at the university. "Alphonse? Yeah. What about him?"

"Did you know that he's an alchemist?" Maes asks.

There's a beat of disbelieving silence and then Havoc's laughing in his face.

He can't help it. Maes is dumbfounded and everyone else is looking at him like he's crazy, but it's ridiculous. Does he know that Al is an alchemist? Does he know that Alphonse Elric is an alchemist?

"Jean," Riza snaps finally and he waves at them, wiping the tears from his eyes and forcing himself back under control.

"Hughes, man, come on," he says. "Are you messing with me? Yeah, of course, they've been doing alchemy since they were knee height. They redirected the town river before I'd left. On request, but still."

"They?" Breda repeats. "Are you saying Ed's an alchemist too?"

They can't be serious. Has it never really come up? He casts his mind back, but Ed doesn't do alchemy at the bar. Well, not that he's noticed anyway, and Ed's good enough that he wouldn't notice if Ed didn't want him too. "Ed's the scariest alchemist I know."

Sure, both of the Elrics could bend bedrock to their will and transmute seemingly anything out of thin air, but Al at least had the restraint to ask if that's something he should do before acting. Ed rarely bothered.

Roy had been a weapon during the war, like all the other state alchemists. But they should all count their lucky stars that the Elric brothers had been too young to be drafted.

[melanchoire]

g!p jealous ceo giselle please?

cw: anal, blowjob, breeding, creampie, degradation, deep throat, hair pulling, handjob, humiliation, spanking.

ceo giselle would be the ceo who gives the worst headaches because she knows how to get under your skin

you can’t complain about your job as a personal assistant and secretary because it’s a good job, the pay is good and you need the job. over time you obviously got used to her, but she is still the same undisciplined ceo with a shitty attitude and passive aggressive comments that she was on the day of your first interview

typing, preparing and collating reports was one of the most exhausting tasks you could have, you would always much rather answer calls and respond to messages than deal with all the paperwork full of words that mean absolutely nothing 😮‍💨 when you go to giselle’s office and leave the papers on the table, she gives you that demeaning look and a mocking grin that you despise so much. she always looks for even the smallest mistake and focuses on the small details to minimize your work

“the word you used here is informal. change it.”

“you forgot to put a full stop here.”

“i don’t like the font you used on this document. please write the report again. i want it tomorrow at the same time as today.”

but you have to keep a good attitude and behavior!! so keep a smile if you don’t want to be fired 😄 nodding at her command and walking out of the office, crumpling the paper into a ball and throwing it in the trash as soon as you leave her office

she also treats you like her slave 💀 your job as a secretary also requires you to take on receptionist duties in addition to your administrative responsibilities. for example, greeting clients arriving for conferences or meetings and being the person who helps visitors settle in, bringing refreshments, taking notes during client meetings, etc. in addition to scheduling meetings and conferences, your job was also to take responsibility for organizing and leading meetings. yes, giselle often forces you to participate in her conferences

but giselle treats you like you’re a maid, snapping her fingers followed by a “get me and the men a cup of coffee. you know how i like it: hot and not much sugar. be quick.” and you don’t know if it's her attitude that puts you in a worse mood or the way the businessmen are looking at you

but here we go again, keep a smile if you don’t want to be fired

but today was different. you felt like men were making fun of you because they looked at you with funny expressions when you talked, interrupting you to ask stupid questions or comments that were slowly making you angry. they even gave you glances from head to toe without worrying about being discreet, this being the only thing that seemed to bother giselle

“we’re thirsty. go get us some fresh water. room temperature.” another snap of her fingers, but giselle’s tone is more demanding and that makes you feel… turned on?? you never liked her orders, or well, you didn’t like to admit that you liked listening to them, but that’s a secret 🤫🤐

men collectively directing their gazes at your body as you leave the meeting room 💀 giselle getting so pissed off that her tongue hits the inside of her cheek to keep from telling everyone to fuck off, but her anger is so big that she ends the meeting immediately and throws all the men out of the room

ohhh and giselle is pissed as hell and you notice it when you get back to the conference room she grabs you by the arm and practically throws you against the table

“giselle, what the fuck is your problem?”

“what the fuck is your problem? acting like a slut in front of all those men, seriously? do you have any idea how that could affect my company’s image? you’re a whore, (y/n)…”

and of course you get upset by her accusations!! giselle always tries to be on your ass all the time, and you try very hard to remain professional, but she exhausts your patience and you dare to respond

you dare to answer. answer to giselle

“why don’t you go fuck yourself, giselle? i’m sick of your smug, shitty attitude.”

so giselle gets upset because you dare to talk to her in a bad way and decides to shut you up by making you give her a blowjob? WELL YES—

as she forces you to your knees you give her a dirty look, trying to stand up but she grabs your hair in a ponytail and gives it a hard tug SHE ALSO SLAP YOU WITH HER THICK COCK?!?! giselle just loves to see the death stare you give her…

giselle smiles in amusement as she sees your pathetic attempts to free yourself from her grip, placing your hands on her thighs and trying to push her away, but giselle places both hands on either side of her head and pushes you down onto her cock, moaning as she thrusts into your mouth and uses you like a fleshlight 🥴

looking down to meet your tear filled eyes looking up at her, the obscene noise of you choking on her length and the feeling and her head hitting the back of your throat and your nose tickling against her pelvis with every thrust 🤤 but she doesn’t cum in your mouth, instead she pulls out a few seconds before cumming, jerking off her cock and shooting thick ropes of warm and sticky cum onto your face 💕 mainly by dirtying the lenses of your glasses because since she saw you using them when you were in front of the computer or reading documents, something in her brain changed completely 😊

then she pushes you onto the table without bothering to remove any papers or documents from it, placing one hand on the back of your head to push your face into the hard wood and using the other to push your skirt up to your waist, drooling at the sight of your perfect ass and soaked panties 😵‍💫 giselle doesn’t waste any time and squeezes your asscheeks and then gives one of your cheeks a hard smack that leaves the print of her palm in a bright red tone, it’s something gigi has wanted to do for a long time and has always been resisting, so today she is going to take advantage of the opportunity!!

fucking your ass because she says your pussy doesn’t deserve her cock :( making you beg and whimper at how much your pussy was leaking and clenching around nothing

“you can go and ask one of them to fuck you, you know? i bet you even fuck my employees when i’m not looking, don’t you?”

and even when she is destroying your ass she doesn’t stop being rude to you 😔 pulling your tie just enough so that it tightens around your neck and takes away your breath for a moment, grabbing your tits from behind and squeezing them over your shirt, groping your ass and digging her fingers into your skin…

cumming inside you and pulling out of your ass with a filthy “pop”, forcing you to open your own cheeks to admire in detail how her creamy essence slowly oozes from your hole and maybe forcing you to push it inside you again using two fingers 🥴

collapsing without air on the large table in the meetings room, only for giselle to adjust her suit and tell you “tomorrow there will be a job interview to recruit new office workers, try to look presentable. oh, and later i will send you the paperwork i need you to fill out, it’s due on monday.”

but you wouldn’t complain about hard work if it means getting a good fucking from your boss later

[bettystonewell]

TO YOU I BELONG: CHAPTER 2

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Summary: Dean isn't looking for a mate, and the last place he expects to meet his soulmate is while on a case. Fate ain't real. He still has free will, and saving you is just another part of the job. Except, monsters aren't the only things you need saving from... 18+ only MDNI

Chapter Word Count: 4.1k words

Chapter Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, language, referenced physical abuse, referenced sexual assault, injuries to reader

A/N: I wanted to have this out a few hours earlier, but my brain couldn’t help playing around with things - Enjoy ❤️

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

The way the heat radiated off of you was just as Dean remembered, reminding him of what little memories he had of his mom of all things.

Your softness. The curve of your hips. Your body moulding perfectly into his had his blood thrumming in his ears and down below. Okay, that was nothing like his mother, he hoped, but he was enamoured. Had they been dealing with witches or wood nymphs, he’d say spellbound, struck by a potion or curse and growing soft.

It was hard not to be when his inner alpha acted so possessive over you.

‘Mine,’ it rumbled. Snarling and gnawing away at his resolve piece by piece, even though hours earlier, the responsibility and temptation of a mate was something he didn’t want.

‘She deserves better,’ he tried to reason with himself. Though anyone and anywhere different was an improvement on living here with your alpha in this middle of nowhere cesspool, and ‘We’d never hurt her,’ countered him back.

No, he would not. Nor would Dean ever try to scent or mark you while you were injured. He was determined by that. Knowing if he was gonna claim you, he’d have to wait and do things right. If you agreed and became his, anyone who tried to whisk you away as he had just done wouldn’t live to tell the tale, and…

What the hell was he thinking? Claiming you? Making you his?

How ‘bout where the fuck was your supposed alpha? The one whose stench soured your own. The one he hadn’t bothered looking for, and rather just picked up and took off with you.

Yeah…

Dean would never let you out of his sight. He’d never do this to you in the first place, either though, and his fingers flexed where they held you.

He was quick to release them.

‘Round your side and under your knee, the action caused your thighs to squeeze together and your breath to hiss on its inhale.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said.

He didn’t dare use omega again. Not now. Not to your face. His alpha could call you that term all it wanted, but with your matted hair now feathering the stubble on his chin when you shook yours, his gut churned.

“No. You’re helping me,” you said. “I should be thanking you.”

You may as well have struck him with a blade. Reached right through skin and flesh and into his stomach cavity and assisted the churning; further twisted his insides with your bare hands to yank them out, even. Hell, he’d do it himself. Save some time. Same effect.

“Yeah, well, I let you go back to your alpha before I knew how he’d treat you,” he said. And he should’ve known better, but so should you.

“I told you I—”

“Don’t.” He clicked his tongue. “You know I’ve thrown a lot of punches? Been on the receiving end of them too, and there’s no way those injuries were from a doorknob. So you wanna try me again?”

“I said I fell,” you whispered, and Dean stopped in his tracks, crackling the gravel beneath his boots. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Well, no, he could. You’d used that lie already in the park.

He bent his torso to leer a cocked brow, regretting that decision the second his spine moved. What little light there was above revealed more than he’d bargained for.

Yes, your thighs tightened above his arms. But so did every joint, muscle and nerve ending in his own body along with them.

Your right eye and the opposite cheekbone had distinct patches of mismatched colour, spreading. He’d say you were wearing lipstick. Only the last time he checked, makeup didn’t come with a clear, watery film around it. No. Dean knew an uppercut when he saw one. He knew the strength of an aroused alpha, too.

The shirt you wore had ripped more, and though his initials were still sitting right there, they were harder to distinguish because abrasions and puncture marks now covered them.

He felt sick. That churning in his gut would spill over you if he weren’t careful.

How?

Why?

You were his mate. Even without his scent, the swelling that billowed from your neck gave that away.

You weren’t in heat; from the scent, he wasn’t in rut, and that information just made Dean’s blood boil more than it already was. “Did he force his knot on you?”

“Ritchie…is my mate.” And your pause was telling.

“I don’t care who he is. That’s not what I’m asking you. What did he do to you?”

As if a switch had flicked, or in this case, floodgates opened. The stench of your alpha’s sack wafted up into his nose, along with more fear from you.

Your eyes filled with tears. Your limbs scrambled to pull away from him. The added stench of pine and a cheap aftershave that wasn’t his swept through the remnants of cum and sweat. But as much as that recoiled him, Dean still leaned back, taking a firm grip to shift your weight in his arms. He wasn’t letting you go.

He took a deep breath over the shame hitching in his throat, and, “I’m sorry,” he said again. Only this time, it held more than one meaning. He just hoped he could make it all up to you.

When Dean reached the motel carpark, his feet kicked up faster across the ground. “Sammy!” he yelled, not caring who heard him - he’d punch the lights outta anyone who got in his way.

His steel cap boot was raised and ready to strike the chipped wood as he yelled a second time, only for Sam to beat him to it by opening the door. His mouth, just as wide.

“Dean?”

There was no lost puppy in sight. No soft and caring younger brother who could get even a drill sergeant to crumble with one look. His eyes scanned their way across your form, though, widening along with everything else before they narrowed, honing in on where Dean’s initials should’ve been. “What—”

“What do you think?” Dean curled his frame through the door, allowing your feet to enter the room before him and the fluorescent lights to highlight the marring on your skin.

“I’ll get some ice,” Sam said, and swept his way to the fridge.

“Grab the first aid kit, too,” Dean barked back as he carried you over to his bed.

He dipped your toes to the floor, keeping his arms near as you found your footing; lifting a fraction to see the full extent of his claim. The bruising was still forming. Your skin wouldn’t turn black and blue for another couple of days, but the swelling, plus the dried blood and weeping cuts, showed early signs of infection.

His stomach stopped mid flip only to drop like a stone, heavy and solid. It sloshed the bile up his pipes, crashing over that hitch in his throat. It burned. His shoulders shrunk. His knees buckled below him.

How could… No. He could ask that until the cows came home. Until his mouth was black and blue from lack of air, it changed nothing.

“Sit down, sweetheart,” he said. Course, it wasn’t a command, but your hesitation made even his toes clench.

He needed to sit. Chuck. He needed to punch your alpha’s head in - both of them - and he dropped to his haunches, encouraging you down, too. Arms rested on his thighs, holding himself up even though every molecule and thought weighed him down.

He could hunch over this way. Push the acid and lack of self worth back into the pit of his gut and away from you. Close enough to touch when needed - and fuck, he wanted to - his knot still twitched at the thought. Skin crawling with an itch he shouldn’t scratch, just to add on to all the other effects the sight of you did to him.

But what to say? What to do? You still sniffled. Gaze well directed away from him and looking down. It was really fucking awkward, spinning miles ‘round Sammy’s looks in the car.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to see those eyes of yours up close if they were gonna rival the puffiness of your injuries, but he tried getting their attention, anyway. His amber greens flicking over his initials again and running with it. Anything to drown out everything else.

“You know the, ah, the W stands for Winchester.” His boyish chuckle tethered off when your lip curled. “And you’re—”

Dean knew your name from the missing persons sheet, but hearing you repeat it then and there was a much needed do-over. If it weren’t for your injuries staring you both in the face, you could almost class this moment as normal if he tried hard enough. You’d been with him on the hunt after all, and if he just ignored the last two hours, his shower, the park, this could simply be agood old stich-up. Nothing more.

“Right.” He repeated your name, surprised at the way it rolled off his tongue with a pleasurable rumble. It suited you. Hell, it suited him. “Will you let me clean you up?”

“Okay,” you whispered. Nodded. Mouth and body out of sync until he gave you a nod back and your smile spilled a smidgen further into your cheeks.

There you were. Sort of. The omega he’d seen at the nest before he’d touched you and brought all this on.

His fingers flexed. Insides unravelled into a warmth that made his heart thrum faster and his head feel light. “Then we’re gonna need a few things,” he said, and stood up, distracting his mind and knot as he scoured the room for something that resembled a washcloth and a basin. Made easy by the grime and grease before him.

The film on the fridge. The stench of cigarettes competing with Ritchie’s. You didn’t belong with him, but you didn’t belong here either. That became more apparent as he moved throughout the room, collecting what he could.

Coffee-pot, brewed twice with water for cleanliness, then usage. A clean shirt from his duffle, sniff-tested first, and a bottle of Jack he found in Sam’s. By the time Dean returned to sit before you, chair and supplies in tow, he’d returned with the ice, and a compress was made. Dean’s shirt doing wonders.

“Here. Hold this.” He brought the icy bundle up to your mate’s claim and placed it over the inflamed skin. There was that outta sight, outta mind again, except your fingers brushed his on handover and he took pause through your latest hiss.

What the hell was going on with him?

“Ah, Dean, sorry to interrupt, but can I talk to you real quick?” Sam said from behind.

“Can it wait?” Dean could tell by his voice alone that Sam had a meddling look in his eye, though he had that on the daily.

“No, it can’t.”

Dean hesitated. He was determined to help you with your wounds, and the last thing he wanted to do was listen to Sam ramble over something he knew nothing about.

Still, he agreed, leaving the room with an “I’ll be right back,” and the door ajar so he could hear if you needed him.

“What the hell, Dean?” he said as he paced under the awning outside the room. His hands shoved in his pockets, straining them, arms stiff as a board, even though his elbows flapped everywhere like some giant chicken.

“She’s hurt.” Of course, Dean knew full well what he meant - he didn’t need to play dumb. He had planned to come to Sam in his own time after he’d finished helping you as intended. Thanks to the interruption, though, he was now indignant, standing tall even with the messed up insides. They still dragged him down, but he put up a fight. 

More so, when Sam struck the cord, he wished to forget.

“What happened to her being nothing to you?” 

“I wanna help her.” He needed to.

“And I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing. She already has a mate and—”

Dean shook his head. “The son of a bitch raped her, Sammy,” he said, self-blame replacing his usual gruffness and spitfire. He wasn’t at fault for what had happened to you. He understood that, but that didn’t mean he didn’t hold some accountability.

Your alpha had struck you because of him. He’d attacked you. Forced himself on you in what Dean could only presume to be a bout of jealousy, and all he saw was the part he’d played by taking you home to him. 

“You know that’s not on you.”

“Yeah.” Yet his eyes grew dim all the same. He lowered them, focusing on the ground. His boots scraping the pavement, now the most fascinating thing in the world over Sam’s, which widened when he said, “I ain’t letting her go back to him. If she doesn’t want me, that’s her choice, but there’s no way that fucker will ever lay a hand on her again.

“O-kay. Let’s ignore the part about you wanting her for a second. What’re you planning to do about him? If they’re bonded, chances are he’ll be sniffing ‘round here soon.”

Dean was hearing what his brother was saying. He was, and he had a solid point. He’d need a plan to set you free, but bonding? “I don’t think there’s a bond between ‘em. I found her in the park outside their building, and he was nowhere in sight.”

“He could be asleep?”

Dean’s chin receded into his neck. “You realise how ridiculous you sound?” 

“Do you?” 

Those words turned Dean’s body still as if he were made of stone. Eyes stuck and narrowed like the wind had changed. Jaw tight. Maybe he had fallen asleep after popping his knot. The asshole hadn’t filed the report when you were taken, your coworker had, and “I’ll deal with him if he shows,” he said.

“Dean. That’s not what—”

“Are we done?”

Sam sighed. His right hand left his pocket, and he gestured back to the room behind. “I’ll be in the car.”

Dean hadn’t even finished closing the door behind him when the smell of fresh tears flooded his nose. He’d swept across the tattered carpet once again and sat on the end of the bed next to you before his mind had even registered it was happening.

Just as his own instincts had pushed him to you, yours buried your face in the crook of his shoulder. His flannel soaked up your tears.

He wanted to ease your pain, but what could he say? He didn’t have the right to comfort you because he hadn’t protected you when you needed him. His soulmate. Not that he understood what that meant.

He was a grunt, with nothing to his name, and you were, well, he still had no fucking clue besides knowing you had his initials on your skin.

The norm was for him to want you. The scary thing was, he did. Far too much for his liking.

He had lusted over you and continued to do so even now, when he was supposed to be helping you. If your mate’s jealousy was dangerous, Dean’s instincts were more so.

They swooped his arm behind your back, letting your fingers grip his shirt. Letting your tears soak into it. He even had the audacity to brush his lips through your hair and place a chaste kiss, only to feel disappointed when your body tensed and you let him go.

“I’m sorry.” You sniveled and swiped at your eyes. Only to wince when your palms got too close. “Where’s your brother?”

Of all the things you could have said, your concern for someone other than yourself had him more smitten. There was seriously something wrong with him.

“He’s sleeping in the car tonight.”

Your hands wiped at your eyes, and you pushed yourself out of his hold. “I don’t want to put him out.”

He should’ve been happy you’d considered Sam, but his inner alpha snuck through, rough and a little snappy. “He’s sleeping in the car tonight.”

“I don’t want to put him out.”

“You’re not,” he muttered, reaching down to pick up his now wet shirt that had dropped to the floor below. He didn’t want to talk about Sam. He didn’t wanna talk about your mate either, though he knew it was inevitable. “Let’s get more ice on your neck. We gotta stop that swelling.”

He stood up and moved to the table where Sam had left the bucket earlier, and after refilling his makeshift compress, came back and took your hand again. “Here.” He positioned it over the icy bundle to hold it in place. “You’ll need some on your eye too, but that bite is a priority at the moment.”

Of course, there was still that ulterior motive to keep the offending section of skin covered, but as selfish as it was, Dean hoped that by forcing his own scented item over the top of it, you might form a bond with him.

Yeah. He was delusional, so he set the internal struggle aside, and got to work.

His hand reached for a piece of gauze floating in the now tepid water and squeezed the excess back into the coffeepot, while the other cupped your chin and pulled you to face him. With steady fingers, he brought it up to your cheeks and dabbed as gently as he was able.

“Sorry,” he said when you hissed at the touch. He needed a recording if it would save his throat some pain and allow that lump to heal. “If you wanna do this yourself, I’ll help you to the bathroom.”

“No.” Your head jiggled more than shook. “It’s bad enough I can feel it.”

Dean could understand that. Not that he feared what he saw. For him, what he couldn’t grasp was seeing your face marred that crushed him, raising the question of how.

He knew the logistics of it. You’d been struck a number of times, and while he still suspected jealousy was the cause, it made no sense. Why would your mate do this to you?

“Do you love him?” He knew he was crazy to ask, but truthfully, he wanted to know if this douchebag did or not.

“What?”

It was a simple question, and very telling that you answered that way.

“Your alpha. Do you love him?” He repeated, waiting for any unspoken clues you might give.

You took your time. For Dean it was agonising, but when you did speak, his heart panged with relief and dismay. “I thought I did,” you said. “But I didn’t think he’d do this either.”

Dean’s eyes glassed over your neck. Your claim didn’t swell like that earlier. It seemed unusual to him for an Omega not in heat. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

“I met my soulmate.”

He swallowed hard. “So he did do this because of me.”

Your head moved against him. “He didn’t believe me when I told him you didn’t want me.”

You had struggled to finish your sentence, but you didn’t need to for Dean to understand. Though he couldn’t see your face, the room was now flavoured with rejection, and while it relieved his doubts of self-worth, it upset him to know you thought that.

“But I do want—”

“Please don’t. That’s not you doing the talking. Your instincts are.”

Just as you’d said, your neck and the punctures that formed a ring around it continued to draw his eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“I do. Mine are affecting me, even though I have a mate. If you had wanted me, you wouldn’t have taken me home.”

Dean often struggled with words, spitting out whatever came to him at the moment, whether they were full of shit or something else. But he wouldn’t let that thwart him. Not when the stakes were this high.

He dropped everything and adjusted his arms to scoop you up into his lap.

Your chest heaved, your brow grew sweaty, and his sharp senses heard the blood as it flowed to all the correct places in your body. Inside his, it did the same.

“You’ve got it all wrong.” Dean’s fingers moved on their own accord, pulling the hand and arm that attached to them to trace over the scratches and cuts that covered your shoulders. “I thought you’d be safer with him.”

“So did I,” you said. And it sliced him deep.

You hadn’t meant it that way, but Dean’s psyche was so full of self-loathing that even though he wished you weren’t, he had already decided you were fearful of him.

Depleted and forever quick to act, he lifted you with ease and set you back onto the bed. “I should get you some more ice.”

He picked up his shirt and moved to stand, but before he could, your gentle touch gripped his arm. “Alpha?” The pleasant sound warmed his ears and tugged at his chest. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not scared of you.”

You were more perceptive than Dean thought.

“Well, you don’t need to be scared of him anymore either,” followed the smirk that curled his lips as his back turned away from you. He really did need ice.

Four hours later, Dean was still wide awake while you slept under a pile of blankets in the bed next to him. Wearing sweats instead of his jeans, he sat up against the headboard. His ass, purposely on top of the covers. His knot just as alert as he was. 

Morning wood had never been more painful.

It hadn’t taken long for you to go down for the count after the first-aiding was done, no doubt exhausted as well as sore, but he worried about how your body would react when it woke up.

Last he’d seen you walking, your step held a jockeys gait. All movement, purposeful and slow. 

You’d had no issues showering. It had just taken some time. Maybe if he’d helped, things would’ve gone faster, but he didn’t dare offer. Even though his inner alpha wanted him to.  

You’d also had no issue stealing his jacket, having taken it when you thought he wasn’t looking. The washed-denim sleeve poked out, as did your toes next to it. The sight of both bringing out his biggest grin. 

No wonder he couldn’t sleep. It was just a shame he had to confront your mate. 

He wasn’t scared at all. Nope, far from it. He couldn’t wait to punch the fucker’s lights out. But you were still his, and a small fragment of Dean’s mind feared you may choose him, even after the horrible treatment you’d endured at his hands.

With a groan, he leaned over and fished for his phone. It was close enough to six to not be too early for coffee, and he swung his bow legs to the ground, stretching his arms out wide; gaining two large cracks from his neck and shoulders as muscle and bone satisfyingly pulled away from each other. 

He then braced himself to stand with his hands on his thighs, but the sound of blankets shifting and a fresh wave of omega scent laced with undertones of him flew under his nose, stopping him in his tracks. It brought another smile to his face and another rush of blood to his groin.

But he had a job to do. A mission. A quest. And without further ado, he jumped to his feet and shuffled towards the bathroom, keeping his morning wood pointing in a direction he hoped you couldn’t see if you were to rouse. There was no way of hiding it when he was standing.

He was quicker about things behind the closed door. No one could argue Dean Winchester wasn’t a multi-tasker. From brushing his teeth to taking a much needed leak, he accomplished it all under the icy stream he’d chosen to cool himself off with.

Thoughts of you, Ritchie, and what he was going to do plagued him while he washed. They continued to follow him as he dried off, then carefully slunk through the main room to further afield outside, where he found Sam cramped on Baby’s back seat.

The deep brown mop of Sam’s hair rose behind the matte black paint of the Impala’s side, sticking up against the window from the static that came with a cooler morning’s air.  

“Rise and shine, Sammy.” Dean fisted the glass above his brother’s head for added effect. Sam was lucky he hadn’t opened the door on him, because that had crossed his mind. 

He wasn’t that cruel. Mediocre at best.

“I need you awake, man,” his voice hissed through the cracked open window.

“Dean?” Sam’s startled head flayed around the Impala’s cabin.

He stepped back to give his brother space to get out, throwing the room keys at him when he surfaced with no warning. 

Sam’s large hands fumbled as they landed on his chest. The silver tumbling through his knuckles like a creature come alive. “What’s going on?” 

“I need you on babysitting duties.”

“Babysit—Where are you going?” Sam stared at him dumbfounded until Dean flashed his best smirk.

One could say he was being cocky, and maybe he was. But in this instance, he needed all the confidence he could muster.

“To deal with Dick,” he said.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Are we feeling the connection? Do we hate her mate? Did I name him Ritchie just so I could make a tonne of Dick jokes? You bet I did! Have I used it enough? Eh, time will tell, but I sure had fun with the next one!

Chapter 3 - Confronting - 07/03

Inside, Dick’s every movement was under his scrutiny. He wanted him to fuck up. To say or do something stupid. That way, Dean had probable cause. It would make whatever he ended up dishing out sit better on his conscience if he heard Dick admit it himself.

So Dean poked the bear. Outright asking him, “Did she say that while you were raping her?”

“I marked her as mine.”

Those words were Dick’s second mistake. He’d just given Dean the chopping block.

“And I suppose she didn’t ask you to stop when you hit her and tried to scratch my initials out of her skin, either?” Dean’s voice remained void of all emotion, even as the anger bubbled in his gut. If he held a mirror to his soul, Dick’s face would have been its reflection.

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[jungshookz]

taehyung’s gotten really beefy and y/n feels like a hormonal teenager 

➺ pairing; roommate!taehyung x roommate!y/n 

➺ genre; roomie!taehyungiverse!! honk honk humour!! a little sprinkle of smut because it would be illegal to write about beefy taehyung and not talk about his bulging biceps WOOF WOOF y/n is a lucky girl i need himbo gymrat taehyung so bad 

➺ wordcount; 2.5k

➺ summary; over the last few weeks, taehyung’s noticed that you’ve been particularly jittery and nervous around him and he can’t figure out why… after one of his usual morning workouts, he decides to finally confront you about it and your answer is more than satisfying to him. 

➺ what to expect; “wait, so you’re telling me the only reason why you’ve been acting so strange these last few weeks is because you think i’m… sexy?”

➺ currently playing on cee.fm; hey daddy (daddy’s home) — usher 

»»————- 🏋🏻‍♂️ ————-««

you’re not sure when taehyung decided to go on a new health journey, but it feels like you’ve blinked and watched your boyfriend go from just some handsome guy that you’re in love with to this muscular, gym-crazy man who loves protein shakes and asking for extra chicken at chipotle (who you’re still very much in love with, let’s be clear that nothing’s changed about that) and suddenly has the ability to do like 100 pull-ups without getting tired 

“ugh, fuck-“ taehyung grunts as he does his last push up (this is his fourth set, so technically he just did 300 pushups with no problem), getting up from the ground and twisting his upper body from side to side before putting his phone in between his lips, peeling his damp wife-beater tank off and tossing it on the ground 

lately he’s been working out in the morning before starting his day and it’s honestly been such a great change — he feels super pumped for the day ahead and completely reinvigorated 

and getting his workout done in the morning means he doesn’t have to worry about it for the rest of the day! 

he went for a run around the neighbourhood early this morning, and then came home to finish off with some calisthenics 

and now he’s gonna do a little cool-down stretch and hit the shower

he hums to himself as he adjusts his wired earbuds, usher’s hey daddy (daddy’s home) making him bop his head — maybe it’s a little douchey of him to be listening to this song while he’s working out but he can’t help that it’s a good ass song 

he slips his phone into the back pocket of his grey sweatpants before reaching for the bottle of water, twisting the cap off and lifting the bottle to chug half of it down 

“…good lord.” you mutter to yourself, staring at your boyfriend shamelessly from the kitchen as your jaw goes slack 

oh yeah — you’re here, too, by the way 

you’ve been here the whole time

you watched him do all 300 pushups and you counted 

and now your coffee is cold because you can’t multitask and you couldn’t focus on gawking at your boyfriend and drinking your coffee at the same time 

taehyung didn’t notice when you slipped past him earlier to head to the kitchen (and honestly, you didn’t want to bother him mid-workout because you know that you hate it when people interrupt your flow) and you’re pretty sure he still hasn’t noticed you, but you’re fine with that because you’d rather he be unaware of your presence than know that you’ve been creeping on him for the last twenty minutes or so 

you don’t mean to stare, you really don’t, but… how can you not stare at him in his shirtless, sweaty glory like that?

your mouth goes dry and you swallow thickly when he turns around, his back muscles flexing slightly 

and since when did he have such bulging veins in his biceps?! 

your eyes trail down the wide expanse of his glistening back and you immediately get flashbacks from the other night when you had your nails digging into his shoulder blades, your hands sliding down to his lower back as he pushed himself into- 

“good morning, sexy-“ you’re snapped out of your thoughts when tae delivers a slap to your bare ass as he passes by and you immediately grip onto your mug harder, letting out a nervous chuckle, “you’re finally up!”

“yeah, i-“ your voice cracks and you clear your throat before shrugging, reaching down to pull your shirt down a little to cover your ass, “it’s whatever, i’m cool.” your brows immediately furrow in confusion at your own words 

…what?

what are you even saying? 

see, something else you’ve noticed that’s happened since taehyung decided that he wanted to go on a run every morning at 5am and come home completely JACKED is that you’ve started feeling nervous around him and you have no idea why 

the both of you have been together for five years (and seven months) and somehow you’ve reverted to some lovestruck teenager who giggles at everything

in fact, you feel like how you felt when you first met taehyung when he came to see you about your open roommate application — very intimidated by how handsome he was and hoping that he thought you were cool enough to hang out with 

“did you want some of my smoothie, baby? i can already tell this batch might have a little more than usual…” taehyung hums, his tongue poking out from in between his lips as he measures out his double chocolate protein powder, dumping two full scoops into the blender, “could you get the blueberries from the freezer for me?” 

“smoothie?” you clear your throat, nodding and setting your mug down, “uh, yeah! blueberries.” you turn around, pulling the freezer drawer open and pulling out the large ziploc of frozen blueberries before shaking your head to yourself to snap out of your funk 

smoothie? uh, yeah, blueberries! you mock yourself internally — you are literally incapable of forming full sentences, it feels like you’ve got a bunch of marbles rolling around in your mouth 

and he needs to put a shirt on or something because he’s starting to get those toned v-lines that taper down nicely when he wears his sweatpants low on his hips 

you didn’t even know those muscles existed 

“so did you want some? it’s okay if you don’t, i guess i could drink it all, the extra protein will be good-“

“uh, yeah! i’ll have some.” you nod, setting your mug down and turning to get a cup for yourself 

taehyung turns the blender on and the kitchen is immediately filled with the obnoxious, grating sound of ZZzhzhhZHHZHHHHHhHhZHzh but you’re actually glad the space between you is being filled up with that 

otherwise you’d have to make conversation with him 

and in your current state, you are completely helpless 

you watch as he reaches up to slick his damp hair back, leaning back a little to check and make sure all the ingredients are being blended up nice and smooth  

it just feels like he’s moving in slow-motion and you… you… 

see you just lost your train of thought 

THAT’S how bad it’s been 

taehyung glances up at you briefly from where he’s standing at the opposite end of the kitchen island, noticing that you’ve seemed to space out again 

he has no idea what your deal has been for the last couple of weeks — he doesn’t think anything is necessarily wrong between the two of you, and if there’s a problem he knows you’re more than capable of bringing it up with him and talking it out 

but at the same time, something is wrong because you’ve been unusually quiet and every time he tries to make conversation it feels like you don’t know how to speak like a normal human being 

like earlier when he said good morning and that you were finally up and you responded with “it’s whatever, i’m cool”

it’s whatever, i’m cool

what the hell was that?! 

or the other night when he asked you if you wanted to join him in the shower and you let out the most nervous, high-pitched laugh before practically sprinting away to the kitchen and saying something about needing to wash the dishes 

…is it him? are you not physically attracted to him anymore? 

that can’t be it, either… you guys had sex the other night and you were very vocal (you guys actually got a noise complaint from a neighbour but he never told you because he knew you’d be embarrassed and never want to have sex ever again, and to be honest, he’s just planning on putting his hand over your mouth the next time you fuck — easy fix!) 

“okay, what’s wrong with you?” taehyung asks as soon as he turns the blender off, and you look up from the counter with wide eyes, “you’ve been so jittery with me for the last few weeks and i cannot figure out why, for the life of me. if you’re up to something shady, you might as well tell me now and-“

“what?” your eyelashes flutter in surprise and you let out a snort, his crazy accusation immediately sobering you up, “i promise you i am not up to anything shady, in fact, i’m kind of offended you even had that thought-“

“oh, thank god. you’re speaking like a normal human being, i finally fixed you-“ taehyung sighs, blowing a puff of air out as he pops the blender lid off, dipping his finger into the smoothie before bringing it up to his lips for a taste

“you have got to be kidding me.” you murmur to yourself, watching as some of the smoothie drips from his finger onto his toned abdomen

he swipes it off before sucking it off his finger with a satisfied hum

“you’re a freak!”  you blurt out, “oh my god, you are such a freak and it’s like you do these things that i feel like are on purpose but-“

“what are you talking about??” 

“i’m talking about- i just-“ you stumble over your words, letting out a groan when you find yourself being unable to form a sentence again

you pause for a second, shaking your head before composing yourself and painting a nice, pleasant smile on your face, “you… you… are you… are you aware of how ripped you’ve become?” 

“what?” taehyung laughs in disbelief, his eyes flickering off to the side, “i mean… i know i’ve definitely bulked up a little, i wouldn’t say i’m ripped-“

“you have no idea how hard it is to not throw myself at you every single second of every single day — i mean, i love you and i’m attracted to you no matter what you look like but there’s just something so satisfying about biting into your firm, firm bicep,” you make your way over to taehyung before jabbing a finger into his arm, “like, are you telling me this is all muscle?!”

“i mean-“ taehyung looks down before flexing his arm, making his bicep pop out, “yeah, i guess so. wait, so you’re telling me the only reason why you’ve been acting so strange these last few weeks is because you think i’m… sexy?” 

“you have been walking around all shirtless and sweaty with grey goddamn sweatpants so low on your hips that you’re basically naked, this is not on me!” you gawk, eyes widening when taehyung suddenly rounds the corner to get closer to you, “what are you- what are you doing?”

“nothing! we’re having a conversation, aren’t we?” the corner of his mouth twitches in a smirk as he continues walking you back until you’ve found yourself bumped up against the counter, your hands immediately fumbling to grip onto the edges to keep balanced, “oh, what’s wrong, baby? do i make you nervous?” he coos, using his pointer finger to raise your chin and forcing you to look at him before setting both his hands down on the counter and effectively trapping you in 

“you-“ your voice cracks and you feel your face getting hotter (again, not sure why because you’ve been dating this man for five years, but maybe it’s a good sign that after all this time you still get super hot and bothered being around him — the spark is still very much alive!), “you don’t make me nervous, that’s ridiculous.” 

“oh, don’t i?” taehyung tilts his head, sliding a finger up the side of your bare thigh and smiling to himself when he feels goosebumps starting to prickle at your skin, “you know, it’s funny that you’re scolding me for walking around shirtless in my own home when you’re the one constantly walking around in skimpy little g-strings. how do you think i feel, having to keep myself from bending you over every single surface in this apartment and just pushing your panties to the side?” he asks, voice light as he uses his pinky to brush a strand of hair away from your eyes  

“i imagine you probably feel… not… good…” you murmur, crossing your arms over your chest and keeping your chin raised in an attempt to appear as calm and collected as possible

“you don’t have to be nervous around me, honey,” taehyung leans down, and you’re as still as can be when he brushes his lips over yours before starting to plant light kisses along your jaw, “you know i love you and for the record, i think you’re incredibly sexy all the time…” he takes your hand and places it on his firm abdomen before sliding it down, and your thighs squeeze together upon feeling the ridges of his abs 

and maybe now isn’t a good time to be thinking this but you can’t help but feel good about the fact that taehyung still thinks you’re sexy — it’s giving you the little ego boost you’ve been needing and- I NEED TO SUCK HIS DICK

okay JESUS 

your eyes shoot open at the sudden uncharacteristically graphic intrusive thought and you immediately push taehyung away from you, keeping him at arm’s length 

“wh- what’s wrong?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, “did i say someth-“

“i need to suck your dick.” you interrupt, staring at him with a neutral expression on your face

“what?” he lets out a laugh, “i mean, yes, obviously i want that but-“

“you need to be quiet now.” 

taehyung swallows thickly when he watches you drop to the ground in front of him, staring at him in a way he’s never seen before 

oh, jesus.

»»————- 🏋🏻‍♂️ ————-««

“tae-“ you whimper, dropping your forehead on his shoulder as he presses himself into you, a shaky breath slipping past his lips when he feels you clench up around him, “a-agh…” 

“jesus, your pussy always feels so good…” he mutters under his breath, looking down to watch himself pull out slightly before pushing back in all the way, smiling to himself when you whimper and ask him to please, please fuck me-

(needless to say, you guys ended up with another noise complaint. whoops.) 

🎙️ ask taehyung for the recipe to his 70g protein smoothie (talk to my characters!) 

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (go say hi to yoongi and y/n in la vie en bonsai!) 

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series like this!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!) 

[mikkomacko]

Reader x mob!boss Nico (also sorry if that's wrong, this is my first request for the series) but something angst smut maybe after Nico comes from the gym?

A/n: This has been in my inbox for literally months I am so sorry it took me so long to write this omg 🫶 but for those of you worried I ignored your blurb requests, they’re probably just in my drafts still lmao

I changed this up a bit but I hope you still love it!

Warnings: smut, jealous Nico, angry Nico

____________________________________________

Nico doesn’t have exes. He’s got old hook-ups and one night stands, girls that clearly come to the Rock looking for him. They’ve all heard about how hot the Devils boss is, as well as the Devils themselves.

It never bothered you.

Nico never had anything with them, at least nothing real, so you never thought you’d have to worry about jealousy between you and Nico. At least nothing beyond the light hearted pouting he does when you’re with Johnny or the way you attach yourself to his hip when girls are obviously flirting with him.

Until an old face made an appearance at the Rock.

You blame Jack for it, honestly. It was harmless, Tyson was harmless other than Nico recognizing the name as soon as you stumbled upon your old boyfriend at the bar. It was one of the first personal stories Nico ever heard about you. Your high school boyfriend, your first love, your first heartbreak. You dated him for a while, fell in love, decided to celebrate your year anniversary together by finally doing it. The universal act of love, the infamous first time from every rom-com.

Except there was nothing romantic or comedic about it at all. It was below average sex, the build up lasted longer than the act itself, and you felt so empty, so disappointed afterwards that you had burst into tears as soon as Tyson was off of you. He panicked, got dressed and basically ran out the door saying he'd check on you later. Later came the next day when he broke up with you, saying you were too much for him and should be with someone who could handle you.

Nico hated Tyson enough as is just for that story. And then he hated him even more when he strolled up to you at the bar and acted like old friends, chatting with you even as you tried to keep conversation quick. You know Nico would've scared Tyson off in a matter of seconds, but you wanted to be civil, so you let him hang with his arm around your shoulders, sipping his beer with a brooding look as Tyson babbled about his life to you.

And you were just about to excuse yourself when Jack ambled up to Nico and asked, "who's the douche?" Which just egged on your boyfriend, his temper already flaring and he shot Tyson a dirty look.

"Her ex."

"Ouch," Jack winced, then patted Nico on the shoulder and leaned into his ear. "She has a type, I'll tell you that."

It was just loud enough for you to hear, turning to Jack with a glare and to hopefully placate Nico but it was all for nothing. He was already angry, already boiling over with a jealousy you've never seen. Denying Jack's statement was only going to make it worse, even though the stupid boy was fucking with Nico. The only thing Nico and Tyson had in common was their dark eyes, and even then Nico's are far darker, hold more depth, are more beautiful.

"Sorry Tyler," Nico spits, not even attempting to be polite or genuine in his 'mishap" on the name. "We've gotta go."

Nico's dragging you away after that, hand on the back of your neck and even though he's jerky and rough as he guides you around the bar and down the hall, his hold isn't mean or hurting. Just demanding.

Swiftly, Nico shoves you through the door into the office, kicking it shut behind him and flicking the lock. You weren't going to say anything, knowing words right now would do nothing for Nico. He accepts and expresses love through physical acts. You two are working on the words thing, but when he's upset like this, it's best to stick what's fool proof.

His hands grab at your face, cupping your jaw and dragging you forward, smashing his lips to yours in a fierce, biting kiss. And you just let him, holding the sides of his neck in your careful hands, easily letting him lead you further into the office until your thighs hit the desk. They’ve barely touched the hardwood before he’s grabbing at your thighs, hefting you onto the desk with effortless strength.

You know Nico is strong, have seen him in the gym, have seen him moving boxes and furniture, have seen him fighting. And you’ve felt it firsthand. Yet every time it takes your breath away, reminds of you that you’re with a man now, not some silly boy like Tyson and all the other average Joes before Nico.

It sends a wave of heat down your spine and straight to your core, arousal pooling in your belly and suddenly it’s like you’re so fucking empty and useless, like you’re life’s mission is to get Nico as deep into your pussy as he could possibly get. How you ever lived without him between your thighs, you don’t know.

“Nico,” you whisper, pleadingly, whimpering when he bites your lip in retaliation. His eyes are dark and demanding when he looks at you, bordering on anger but you know him better.

He just wants your attention. He wants you.

“Don’t talk to me,” he scolds, then almost dismissively he grabs at the bottom of your shirt and starts to haul it up and over your head. “Not after you made me stand there with that fucking hodensniterin and play nice.”

Knowing better, knowing you’ll get him the way you want if you sit there and let him go about his way, you comply as he throws your shirt to the floor, already working his over his head.

You don’t even realize you’ve moved until Nico is staring down at you, an unimpressed look in his eyes. “Now you want me?” He goads, wrapping a hand around your wrist and stopping you from trailing your fingers any further over his abdomen. “You want to touch me?”

You’re nodding along before he’s even finished speaking, brain already going fuzzy from how needy you feel. It’s like all your brain can think about is him, all you can see is him, all you want is him. His name forms on your tongue again and you have to bite the inside of your cheek, forcing your mouth to stay shut.

Meanly, he laughs, yanking you up to your feet by the wrist. Like a rag doll you go with him, flung and maneuvered around so swiftly it catches you off guard when your elbows hit the desk, cushioned by something. Blinking a few times, you look down and realize Nico has thrown his shirt over the hardwood, bunched up as padding under you.

It’s such a sweet thing for him to do, not unexpected of him even when he’s like this, but it still makes your body flush with heat.

“Too fucking bad,” he continues, “I’m doing the touching. Not you.”

Like it’s instinct, you arch back into Nico when you feel the heat of his body get close to you. He chuckles lowly, barely skimming the palm of his hand over your ass but flinching away when you press back into him.

Tears of frustration sting at your eyes, desperation burning in your skin. If he’d just let you talk, let you tell him how badly you want him, how much you need him inside of you right now it’d be fine. But he’s in a mood and already told you not to talk to him.

His fingers hook into the band of your skirt and underwear, the pads of them rough and warm as they drag across your skin. In one pull he's yanking both over the globes of your ass and down your thighs, leaving them bunched up around your ankles.

The air is cold on your newly exposed skin, raises goosebumps on your skin and you shiver, squeezing your thighs together to preserve some heat in your burning core, and subtly relive some of the throbbing in your clit. Nico reacts before you can even let out a hum of satisfaction, wedging a hand between your thighs and smacking them back open.

"Spread them," he demands, shoving his foot between yours now for insurance. You groan, hiding your face in your arms and biting into the meat of your forearm to silence yourself. Apparently that's the wrong move too though because Nico bumps his knee into the back of yours. "Nuh-uh, hands now."

Begrudgingly, you slip your arms around to your back, pressing your wrists together. Chest and cheek flat on the desk, the new position pulls at the stretched muscles of your legs, the ache just enough to make you throb even more.

His left hand gathers yours in one, long fingers holding them together by the wrist, and he presses down into the small of your back. You whimper, more out of embarrassment and neediness than pain but Nico sills for a moment, his right hand stroking over your ass gently.

"You ok?" He checks, voice a quiet murmur and you take a mental check of your body. It's a little degrading being thrown and bent over his desk like this, ass up for him to do as he pleases, but it stings in the best way possible. You trust Nico, know that even when he's got you exposed and vulnerable like this he would never go too far, even though he could.

It's exhilerating.

"Tell me baby," Nico encourages, settling his hand on the seam of skin where your thigh meets the bottom of your ass.

"I'm ok," you say, closing your eyes and breathing in the cologne on his shirt, the rich scent of him. It's soothing and you quickly amend, "I'm perfect, Schao."

You can picture the pleased smile on his face, the dimple it carves into his cheek.

"Good girl," he purrs, dragging his thumb through your folds. The sudden touch sends a shock wave through you, hips canting and rising to your toes to give him better access to your swollen and desperate clit.

"S'this all you needed to be nice to me again?" Nico skips over where you want him the most, going back to thumbing at your hole teasingly. "To pay attention to me instead of that cock-sucker out there?"

You're not sure if your allowed to talk again, so you bite your tongue, sucking in quivering breathes of air through your nose to stay grounded. I was just being polite, you want to say, to defend yourself. I hate him and I love you Nico.

Torturously slow, Nico dips his thumb between your folds, sinking into just the knuckle and you hold your breathe, scared that any sudden movement will spook him into stopping.

He pumps his thumb in shallow movements, careful and calculated. It's not everything you want from him but it's something, a content breath puffing out of your nose.

"Thinks he knows you," Nico mutters, more to himself than you. He pulls back, his thumb suddenly disappearing and you whine, pussy clenching down on nothing. Thankfully, Nico doesn't care about the bratty noise enough to scold you. He silences you with two thick fingers, shoving them into you up so abruptly you flinch, digging your cheek further into his shirt.

"He doesn't," Nico says, louder this time like he's trying to remind you. It goes in one ear and out the other, your mind to preoccupied with the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of you. He pets at the sensitive sponge part of you, curling his fingers to hit it dead on and your knees shake.

"He doesn't know how to bend you over like this, how to take you apart like I do, does he?"

Your fingers clench into fists, stomach clenching and every push of Nico's finger stretching you pushes you closer and closer to your orgasm. His hand on your wrists tightens, holding you in place and then his fucking his fingers into you faster. Your orgasm crashes over you, white stars bursting behind closed eyes.

He's still talking to himself, muttering stuff under his breath and stroking you through your high. Your thighs quiver and shake, the insides of them damp with it and your knees fully give out, leaving you a heap on the desk. The pounding in your ears must have blocked out the sound of Nico's zipper and the drop of his jeans, because your caught of guard when his fingers have only left you for a second before the weeping head of his cock is prodding at your pussy.

In one swift motion he buries himself in you, stretching your walls as his hips sit tightly against your ass. You feel useless, boneless after your orgasm, only able to lay there and take it. It's so nice you could cry, sniffling as Nico pulls back and fucks into you, a raw moan ripping from his throat.

"Fuck so perfect for me," he compliments, setting a fast and brutal pace. Your thighs and hips smack into the desk so harshly they'll definitely be sore tomorrow if not bruised too. His other hand grabs at your side, holding you so tightly you can feel his fingers between your ribs, painfully keeping you still.

"Just for me, fucking made for me."

You gasp, arch further into his strong body as your walls flutter around him. "All for you Nico," you mumble submissively, hoping to god that that's what he wants from you, that he wants to hear you. He groans in approval, the sound wrecked and rough. "Just want you, only ever want you, Nico."

Somehow he picks up the pace, fucking into you even harder and in the back of your mind you wonder where the fuck he got such a sturdy desk. Pressing his chest to your back, Nico sweeps your hair to the side, his lips finding the side of your neck.

"He had you first," he says low, breath hot against your ear "but I get you forever, right?"

Desperately, you nod, another orgasm building in the base of your belly. "Forever," you confirm. "He had me first, you'll be the last to have me Nico."

Sweetly, Nico kisses your temple. "Tell me," he request, now kissing at your jaw. "I want to hear more baby."

The juxtaposition of his cock fucking you into next week and his mouth being so sweet and soft cuts through you, leaves you raw and exposed to him. You knees shake again, thighs quivering as your high gets closer and closer, stronger now that he's already left you used and sensitive.

"He was the first to have me," you choke out, Nico's mouth ghosting over your cheek as he waits with bated breath. "but you were the first to have me raw, boss."

Nico makes a wounded sound, like he'd been punched in the gut and his hips stutter for a moment before picking up the same pace. He captures your mouth in a biting kiss, licking into your mouth with such dominance and control it sends you over the edge.

He fucks you through it, rocking his hips a few more times before he too stills, buried to the hilt as he comes. You pulse around him, greedily accept everything he pumps into you with absolutely no resistance. Nico kisses at your slack mouth, mumbling soft praises as you come down from your second orgasm.

"So good, baby. You did so good for me," he dots kisses under your eye, dragging his fingers across the skin and you blink your eyes open, realize your eyelashes are clumpy with tears and he's drying your cheeks for you.

"Nico," you cry, legs and hips aching, the edge of the desk digging into your skin uncomfortably He shifts, taking his weight off of you and releasing your hands. They prickle with pins and needly, the blood rushing back to them as they fall to your sides, numbly.

"I got you sweet girl," he assures, kissing down your back. Your in a haze as he pulls his jeans and boxers back up, then helps ease your underwear and skirt back into place. You make a noise complaint, needing to at least clean up a little bit but you don't make a move to do anything.

"You're fine," Nico tells you, slipping a hand under your stomach to drag you up from the desk. "Can sit out there with me dripping from you, yeah? Want you to remember who takes such good care of you now."

Like mush, you let Nico turn and sit you on the desk again, swiping his black shirt from the surface. He looks so pretty standing over you, cheeks flush and glowing, eyes still dark with arousal. His hair falls a little flat over his forehead, a crooked and boyish smile on his face.

"Yeah," you agree, still dazed as he uses his shirt to wipe under your eyes and around your lips, cleaning the spit remaining from his mouth.

Nico leans down, kisses between your eyes in a move so soft and fluttering it tickles, makes you blush like a school girl. "You're never too much," he promises, recalling the reason why Tyson had broken up with you. "You are everything. So pretty when you come, when you cry for me like that. I live for it."

Your heart aches in your chest, his kind words drawing a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. It had been something that followed you, an insecurity always in the back of your mind. You accepted whatever love you could get because you thought that was it. You were too much, they couldn't offer you more and you couldn't ask for more.

Until Nico.

"I love you Schao."

He smiles all handsome and precious, smoothing your hair down with a gentle hand. "Love you more, my baby."

You fall forward into his stomach, cheek pressing into the damp skin on his ribs. You want to hug him but your arms are still regaining their feeling and your legs are tired right now, so you settle for lazily wrapping an arm around his thighs.

“What’s a hodensniterin?”

He snickers, hand on your head, protectively. “Ball fucker.”

[whiskeyskin]

Wild and Wanting

Premise: Halsin always puts others first, it's about time he feels like number one 😜🍑🫵

• Halsin x gn! reader • 18+ • Act 3

Reader POV, light Reader!Dom, submissive!Halsin, 69, oral both recieving, instructions, analingus, tossing the salad, eating cake, tonguing the chocolate starfish, you get the hint, he gets his ass ate right, it's about damn time.

3.8k words

Not my gif, but you're welcome for sharing Happy munching! 😏🍑🥴

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Halsin's mouth and tongue expertly lavish your sex; sucking, licking and nibbling. It drives you beyond distraction.

You're trying to concentrate on pleasing him, using your own talents on his thick, lengthy cock. You suckle at his tip, twisting your wrist on his shaft, your other hand massaging his testicles.

He lays beneath you feasting open-mouthed and greedy. He laves his tongue up and down the length of you, knowing exactly how to use his large hands to bring you to ruin already.

You drool down on his cock in absent-minded delirium, gasping and panting.

He takes a breath and kisses the inside of your thighs, still using his glorious hand on you, then flicks his tongue against your taint. Your whole body twitches and you whine out a garbled moan.

"Mm, cum for me, my heart. I need your spent down my throat." He growls, returning to his ministrations, his intent tenfold.

With a soft, sucking pop his length falls from your mouth, as you moan wantonly.

He strokes in perfect pace, mouth working in spectacular rhythm. The pressure inside your head ready to burst, the coil tightening in your gut ready to spring.

Your whole body tenses, every nerve-ending on fire. Your moans of pleasure getting increasingly louder and breathless. Halsin ushers you towards the precipice and you tumble willingly into it's nothingness.

All thoughts leave your head, as your orgasm washes over you, radiating from your core; from Halsin's mouth.

He hungrily revels in the banquet of your release, drinking you down, never ceasing.

Your hips stutter and jerk against his mouth, as ragged breaths heave from your lungs. Sweat beading from your forehead and forming on your top lip.

He swallows every drop of you, with a few long swirls of his gifted tongue.

You collapse on top of him, leaning against the muscle of his thick thigh, your hot breath tickling his sac.

He pats you twice on the ass and chuckles deep from his chest, "Ahh, my heart. You came so hard for me, thank you." You hear the smile in his praise and thanks.

"That wasn't fair." You protest, rolling unceremoniously to land in a heap on the blankets below you.

He chuckles, sitting up, "Whatever do you mean?"

Eyes still unable to focus, you struggle to look up at him, bathed in the moonlight above you. The sounds of the forest returning to your ears instead of the sloppy, slurping noises of oral sex.

"You always make me cum first." You point out, still slightly winded.

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead, "And this is a bad thing?" He asks grinning, wiping a hand across his smeared chin. You purse your lips and irk a brow at him.

"Well, I can't complain when I'm in the moment.. but yes. Don't you want to be just a little bit selfish, sometimes?" You inquire, shrugging.

"Nope." He answers, definitively, clasping his hands together and bending a leg at the knee. He was still hard.

You run your tongue against your teeth, smirking in the face of his goading.

"In 350 years, you've never once just wanted to fuck for your pleasure alone?" You narrow your eyes playfully at him.

"I find pleasure in pleasing others. I cannot help how I am, nor do I intend to change." He states, curling himself around to be closer to you, "Does it bother you, love?"

"Not really. It's just.." you pause, measuring what you actually mean, "you've taken care of people for so long, always put them first and yourself second, or even third. Maybe for once, I want you to be put first." You implore, eyes insisting.

"I have no issues coming in second place, my heart." He says with a devilish moan, capturing your mouth in a consuming kiss.

He tries to move on top of you but you halt him, and push him back onto the grass.

"I wasn't finished," you smirk, a forceful hand pushing on his hairy, muscle-bound chest, "I couldn't even get a good rhythm going!" You exclaim with a faux pout, as you hook your leg over to straddle his impressive form.

He chuckles in reply, "I can't apologise for something I'm not ashamed of." He glides his calloused hands up the backs of your thighs and around the curve of your behind.

You smile back, "Well, I'm not one to leave a mission unfinished, so.." you press a kiss to his sternum, "just lie back and look at the stars, you'll be there soon." You promise with a salacious grin.

Halsin irks a brow and licks his bottom lip, "I have no doubt, my heart."

"I mean it," you sit up straighter, using his enormous pecks for leverage, "This is for you to lie back and indulge a little. A promise to take pleasure for yourself. Are you listening?" You insist, a slight jutt of your chin.

Another chuckle responds, a warm crinkle around his green hazel eyes, "Yes, heart. I'm listening, I promise."

"I'll hold you to your word, Halsin Silverbough." You purr, leaning down to kiss him again. A long, languid kiss of wet tongues and gasping moans. You taste yourself on his tongue and swear you can almost taste the warmth of honey on his lips.

Taking your time, you drag your mouth and tongue down his impossibly beautiful body, as he cranes his neck to watch you descend.

"You truly are the most beautiful man I've ever seen." You decide to tell him, keeping searing eye contact, trailing your wet tongue down the ridged plain of his torso.

You had beheld perfection in humanoid form before, but Halsin truly outclassed them all. His massive chest, muscular arms, thick thighs and tight butt; they could make a sinner convert to a life of piety.

He loves to deal out sweet, cherishing praise; you want him to experience the same.

"I doubt that but I appreciate your encouragement." He bats away your compliment with a shy shake of his head, as you shower his belly in long, languid kisses.

"I'm serious. You are sincerely spectacular. Your body, your face, your mind. The entirety of you is beyond anything I've ever witnessed."

His cock flexes against his lower belly, a line of precum beading between. You take the head in your hand and start to stroke him slowly.

"Th-thank you, my heart." He stutters, with a smile, his hands running the length of your arms.

"Your kindness, selflessness. Your wisdom and bravery. And these pretty little divets that lead so sweetly down." You croon, between kisses and suckles.

You lap your tongue along the bottom of his tip, wrapping your lips to encompass the girth of his long, thick erection. Halsin groans and pushes his hips up, rolling his head back with a throaty gasp.

Rolling your wrist over the head, using your mouth in tandem, you taste his desire for you. You release him with a satisfying pop, staring up at him over his heaving and hollowing chest.

"Gods, you taste so good." The salt of his skin is intoxicating, as you move to glide your mouth to the creases of his inner thighs.

"Mm, thank you, my heart. You feel extraordinary." He keens through a strained throat.

You flatten your tongue along the curve of his balls, first one side, then the other. Then gently sucking one at a time into your mouth, massaging them with your tongue.

Halsin groans as he bends his knees and opens his legs to allow better access.

"I'm going to take such good care of you, Halsin." Your hot breath teases his sensitive skin.

Laying on the layered blankets on the forest clearing floor; you lap at his testicles, suckling at them, flicking your tongue front to back. Every now and again, surfacing to slather his cock head with your eager tongue, your hand continuing a constant, teasing pace.

Halsin moans between tense lips, as he raises his hips, desperate for more friction.

A thought flashes across your mind, something you're pretty sure that he would be interested in trying with you.

"Love? Tell me if you want me to stop." You offer, before dipping your tongue underneath his sac, to push against his taint. Inviting, but not threatening, to go lower.

Halsin groans in agreement, "Mm, never.. never. Keep going. Yes." Pushing off his feet to grant a better angle.

You bite back a devious smirk, and tilt your head to suckle his perineum. Rearranging your non-dominant hand, you grasp at the meat of his buttcheeks.

Halsin makes a straining, encouraging noise from the back of his throat. Bolstered, you dip your tongue lower, between the tight crease of his cheeks. You press your tongue between the folds, flicking it firmly.

"Oh, Silvanus protect me." He sighs out quickly.

The precum on his head is gathering thick and fast, as you continue to stroke his huge cock.

"Is this something that you like, sweet thing?" You ask from between his tense thighs.

"It is, my heart. I don-don't like to ask," he falters as you dip your tongue once more, "Not everyone partakes in such activities."

"Well, aren't you a lucky boy?" You smirk with a playful tone, rolling your tongue the word.

"Every day since I met you." He chuckles, then hisses through his teeth, at the intensity of his lust.

"What do you want, love? Mouth, and fingers inside?" You check before proceeding.

"Yes.. yes.." he whispers breathlessly, fists grasping at the blankets beneath him.

"Say it. Own your needs." You order, your fingers lazily flicking the crease of his cheeks.

"T-Tongue. Tongue and fingers. Your mouth. Your hands.. please." He grumbles deeply, asking so nicely.

"Then I need you on all fours, sweet thing. I want to devour you." You purr his words back to him, teeth against his thigh. His eyes burn bright with excitement and desire, you bite your bottom lip with a scandalous grin. He responds with an equally devious smirk and huffing himself over with a ravenous growl, he obliges faithfully.

Apparently, the Elvish predilection of hairlessness extended to his asshole, if nowhere else.

You kneel backwards to reach towards the small picnic you'd brought yourselves, and retrieved his jar of lubricant. He hurriedly gathers the blanket toward him, to lean into the grass instead. Watching him get into position; he buries his face into his forearms and parts his legs, tilting his ass into the air.

You drink in the sight before you; the Ex-Archdruid of the Emerald Grove, splayed on all fours in front of you.

"Halsin." A wide, feral grin spreads across your face, "you look so damned good like this, arse in the air for me." You curl your lip through the words, catching them through a feral snarl. Halsin hums low appreciatively at your filthy words.

"Can I spank you, love?" You clarify, praying for him to agree.

"Not hard but yes." He answers from the grass.

You rub a cheek several times, then give a nice, satisfying slap and repeat twice more. Each time he twitches at the contact, groaning out; you moan with him, each time a little more exaggerated.

Reaching between his legs for his large, hanging erection, you find the tip already wet with precum. Halsin's body jerks and he lets out another long, hot moan into the ground.

You try to resist delving in deep already, only having enough strength to veer to the other ample cheek at the last second.

"Do you like baring yourself to me in this way, love? I can't wait to sink myself into your waiting hole." You keen, running your hands up the backs of his thigh, dangerously close to the valley of his yearning arsehole.

"Heart." Halsin growls a warning loudly and rounds his spine, shuddering. His body starts to glow and you back off before his nature takes over.

"It's alright, Halsin. Breathe, love." You instruct him gently, "breathe.."

He does as instructed, with apparent great difficulty. But despite his best efforts, he shifts to his bear form, leaves erupting outwards from impacting magic. Now looking at the behind of an enormous brown bear, you stifle a flattered, if not a little guilty, giggle.

"It's alright, love. I should've known. I'm sorry." You soothe, smoothing his rugged fur and moving to stand.

You walk to the side of him, running a hand softly and comfortingly along his flank. His big, sad eyes turn to look at you. He rumbles out a sad low grumble, and your chest inverts.

"Ohh, my beloved. It's alright. It can't be helped. You know I take it as a compliment." You shrug and smile warmly, stroking the softer fur of his face and shucking behind his ear.

He hoots with a toothy smile and shudders back to his original form.

"I'm sorry.. I'm sorry. It's why I don't.. I'm sorry, I'm sorry.." he repeats over and over again, pushing off his hands.

"Hey. You don't apologise for something you're not ashamed of." You remind him, catching his face gently. He rewards you with a chuckle.

"My mistake." He jokingly chides himself, pushing breath through tight lips.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" You venture once more, kneeling back to join him at his original size, smoothing along the soft curve of his back, drawing soothing circles on his shoulder blade.

"I know it isn't your usual position - even though you look so exquisitely good in it." You add, pressing a kiss to his bicep.

"I made a promise. A promise to indulge my own pleasures," he states with conviction, "something I have not done for a very long time, and there is no one I trust more than you, in which to do so." He swallows, his soft earthen eyes boring into yours.

You tilt you head to the side and regard this creature of undiluted perfection before you, unable to quell the smile on your face, "I adore you," You reach up to kiss him, slow and soft, "Thank you for trusting me."

"Thank you, my heart. You have given an old Druid more happiness these last weeks than I've had in a long time." He curls his lips in, a melancholic yet wistful expression on his face.

"You are heavenly, you know that?" You inform him, pushing up to stand. You kiss him again, cupping his scarred and tattooed face, nudging his forehead with yours.

Walking to return to your spot, he surrenders himself back between his massive forearms. You reach toward the jar of lubricant and unscrew the lid, the gentle scent of chamomile in the air.

Kneeling back down, you prepare a healthy dose of lube on your first two fingers. Gently, you begin to stroke the cleft of his arse, slowly drawing wide circles around his arsehole.

He grinds his jaw together and his eyes flutter closed. He trembles a breath through his nose, stretching his neck from side to side.

"Say, 'Emerald' if you need to stop." You establish, softly applying more pressure with the two digits in smaller circles against his rim, "What do you say to stop?"

"Emerald." He responds dutifully, bowing his head and scrunching his face.

"Good lad." You reward him, with a surprising tap on his ass cheek. He rumbles a chuckle.

Settling yourself comfortably, you announce, "I'm going to eat your ass now." just before launching into the valley of Halsin's awaiting hole.

Forming plenty of salvia, you dive in to assault him with your tongue. Using your hands to spread his cheeks wider, you begin by licking the length from his taint up, then flicking your tongue against his entrance.

Halsin hollers out below you in abject agreement, "Yes, my heart. Yes. Thank you. Ahh !"

You take no time in burying your face between his ass cheeks; slurping and licking, while fondling his balls. Bracing yourself against the strength of his legs, you tongue over the sweet, sensitive rim.

The taste of his home remedy lube was helpfully very pleasant, as you feast on his exposed ass. You moan and vocalise, as you dine on his most intimate and hidden part. Poking your tongue just passed his tight entrance, fluttering it around the rim and massaging your hands across the meat of his ample behind.

Shaking and nodding your head, prodding your tongue further inside his taut hole and licking all around. You move back and spit against his clenched skin, lube-thickened rivulets of saliva coat his sac and drip onto the floor, as you slap his ass another twice.

He exclaims, nearly falling from his forearms.

"Gods, my sweet. Yes-yes. I feel your spit dripping down me. You feel incredible. Do not stop. Please." He begs, his voice already hoarse.

You make a noise in your throat that informs him, you aren't even started.

Settling lower in your position, you take your bracing hand and pause to daub your peace fingers with plentiful more lube and smear it where his muscled back curves to meet his succulent ass. Then take that hand to gently pull down on his testicles, squeezing them within your palm, massaging the weight of them.

Continuing your ministrations with your tongue, you collect the awaiting lube, adding the sensation of your fingers of your dominant hand slowly. Gently cycling your fingers around the curve of his coccyx, you palpate his soaked, engorged asshole.

His entrance flutters against your tongue, as his moans get increasingly more gruff and desperate.

"More. My heart. More. Inside. Please." He strains, breaths hissing through his bared teeth.

Moving your mouth to kiss the crease to his leg, you stroke your fingers down to align with his prepared entrance. Teasing slowly, you test him with your middle finger, dipping in and out and watching for his reaction.

A muffled high cry expells from him, as he twitches, "Ahh!"

"Breathe out for me, beloved." You coach, pausing your hand cupping his balls.

He obliges, taking in a deep inhale and slowly exhaling. Your middle finger slides in with a small amount of resistance.

Halsin gasps, and his head shoots up from between his arms, "Oh! Silvanus bless me. More. More." he pleads, growling.

Taking your other hand from his testicles, you add more lube for comfort, then add the second finger. Both slide in with pliant ease; Halsin's lubricated warmth surrounding your digits to the second knuckle.

Halsin makes a crackling gasp, "Gods !"

"You're doing so well, love." You adorn him, delicately sliding your fingers in to the hilt.

You reach between his legs to tease his shaft with light, squeezing touches.

Halsin whines out a shudder, "Mm-argh. I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you. Please. Let me. I'll-ngh." He rambles, slamming a fist to the ground.

"This isn't about me, this is for you. Or trust me, I'd be riding you already." You moan, he joins in with a wanting groan.

"Seeing you like this as I fuck your ass with my fingers. It's so fucking hot, Halsin." You start to thrust your fingers inside his asshole, curling down to hit his special spot.

He trembles out a call to the sky in Elvish, seemingly unable to speak Common.

"I'm going to take care of you, protect you, adore you and shower you in pleasure." You softly squeeze his sac again, "I need you to cum for me, Halsin. I want you to cum."

You reach around his hips and firmly grasp his massive cock; precum leaks in an extortionate amount from the slit. Your sex painfully twinges from how much this has been driving him insane.

Taking no time and giving no mercy; you stroke his cock hard and fast, simultaneously stuffing your fingers deep in his snug asshole.

His entire body roils, his muscles bunch and he cries out into the dirt. His giant hands carving monstrous rivets in the earth beneath him.

His sphincter clenches down on your plunging fingers, his hips sputtering. You can feel the notch of his prostate underneath your fingerpads, the thick pulsing veins of his enormous cock in your hand.

He was on the verge.

"I'm going to count you down, sweet thing.. and you're going to cum for me. You're going to scream nice and loud, and cum so hard you can't walk. Understand, love?" You urge, with a commanding tone.

Halsin barely acknowledges, save for affirmative grunts and pants, through a delirious grin.

"Five.."

His hole quivers around your pounding digits.

"Four.."

His gargantuan length pulses in your hand.

"Three.."

His back arches and his arse pushes higher in the air.

"Two.."

There's not a sound but the debauched sound of your hammering his abused hole and pumping his humongous cock. His ragged breaths and choked moans echo through the forest, as he patiently abides until he's told to cum.

You purse your lips around a pleased smile. Holding him on the very knife edge of his orgasm. He whimpers and growls from the back of his throat, his body and soul ready to explode on your order.

Damn. Even like this, he still brought you pleasure.

"One."

It all happens at once, but almost in slow motion.

Halsin roars in jubilant euphoria, straining and tearing his throat, pouring out semi-sensical gratitudes, "YES! YES! Ngh. All for you. All for you, my heart. Allforyou. Yes-yes-yes !"

His hole clenches and suckers onto your talented fingers, as you drive them inside his pulsating walls. Hot, white ropes of seed spatter onto the lush greenery below him, with a force backed by nature itself.

His hips jerk and sputter as he drains himself on the floor, his hole flutters around your digits and his body turns gelatinous.

"All for you.. all for you.." he mumbles, collapsing aside to the ground, your fingers slipping out of his supplicant hole with ease, "thankyou.. thankyou." He choruses, barely able to separate the words.

Thoroughly pleased with yourself at the current state of the proud Druid Elf laying blissed before you, you press a kiss to his thigh and pat it twice with the heel of your hand.

"Well done, my heart. You came so hard for me, thank you." You callback to his words earlier in the evening.

His chuckles, a little higher in his register than usual. "Clever little thing."

You shuffle to the pack nestling in the tree roots and find dampened tissues to clean your lubed fingers, and turn back to Halsin; who is now laying splayed on his back, staring at the stars.

You smile at him, tilting your head; you truly do adore this sweet, large Elf.

You don't pull that out for just anyone.

You needed to be careful though, or this would end in disaster.

He was explicit in what his expectations were in this arrangement and you needed to temper your growing feelings.

Leaning forward, you wipe his softening member clean of excess and throw the tissues crumpled together back near the pack.

"You were right, my love." He began, a drowsy, satisfied tone in his voice, "I am with the stars." He grins broadly, limbs stretched wide.

You snort a laugh and wind your way towards him.

"See, isn't it fun to be a little selfish sometimes?" You remarked, playing idly with his chest hair.

Halsin labourously tilts his head to you and smiles, "If it feels like that, I should have done so a long time ago."

•°•°•

Phew ! Ready for more? I've got lots more to share 😏😅

[honeypiehotchner]

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part twelve

I need y'all to know that I'm writing part 18 rn and it's getting GOOD I can't wait this fic is so fun to write and I'm so happy you guys are loving it as much as I'm loving writing it!!! 🤭💞

Warnings: once again they're...getting along? never fear they still argue though, things are...about to get crazy, (i hope we are picking up on the subtle moments of attraction bc they're only going to get worse xoxo)

After three days of straight paperwork — and one annoying HR meeting because someone from a different department must’ve heard you and Hotch arguing and decided to tattle — you’re going insane. You need something else to do besides sit in a chair staring at files all day, listening to Morgan and Reid bicker, and glaring at Hotch every time you catch him looking at you through his office window.

You’ve heard nothing new from the case in Alabama. Radio silence from the unsub. Radio silence from the police. Nothing new from the sketch Lila helped with, too. Nothing at all, with anything.

You’re going stir crazy. 

You need a new case to come in. Given what Strauss told you in that meeting, you expect a new case to come in any minute.

What you do not expect is to come back from lunch on the fourth day to find Strauss in Hotch’s office, or for them to be arguing. With the door open, for god’s sake, so everyone in departments three floors down can hear.

You don’t think before you haul ass up the stairs, especially not after you hear your own name in the midst of their poor attempts to not shout, turning everyone’s heads. Your mind immediately conjures up the worst case scenario: that they’re arguing about your father, about how Strauss let you seal that part of your file, and somehow Hotch found out that she let you, and now it’s all getting blown out of proportion.

You can’t make out the source of their arguing, though, because they’re just shouting nonsense at one another, bordering on insults. 

Jesus, is this what it sounds like to everyone else when you and Hotch argue?

Strauss and Hotch both stop bickering as soon as they spot you hovering in the doorway. You raise your eyebrows at them like a parent catching two siblings in the middle of an unnecessary fight — which isn’t that far off the mark.

“Ma’am,” you nod to Strauss. “Hotch,” you look over at him. “I heard my name. What’s going on?”

Strauss answers, turning toward you, “Richard Monroe has stopped cooperating with the authorities. He’s said he’ll cooperate again, but he wants to speak with you first.”

“No,” Hotch says firmly, one hand planted on his hip, his other hand pointing an accusatory finger in Strauss’s direction, then at you. “There is no reason for Richard to speak with her.”

“Why not?” you ask, trying to keep your tone on the calmer side, at least while Strauss is present. “If it’ll make him cooperate, I’ll talk with him.”

“Thank you,” Strauss says, relieved, before turning to give Hotch a lethal glare. “See? I told you you’re getting worked up over nothing, Aaron.”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, whether to assure yourself or Hotch, you have no idea. “It’s one conversation. It’s not like I haven’t spoken to him bef—”

“It’s not just one conversation,” Hotch fumes.

“Stop acting like I can’t handle this job,” you argue.

Hotch almost looks offended. “That’s not what I’m—” 

“I don’t care what it is,” Strauss shouts over the both of you. “Agent, you’ll speak with Richard tomorrow. I’ve already scheduled it, and I’ll forward you the details. Hotch, I’ll let them know you’ll be attending as well.”

“Excuse me?” Hotch says.

“What?” you blurt at the same time. “I don’t need him to come with me.”

“Well, you’re not allowed to go alone, and frankly, Aaron, if it bothers you so badly, you should go with her, as Unit Chief,” Strauss says, her phone ringing in her pocket halfway through her sentence. “I’m late for a meeting. This is settled. Understood?”

Hotch looks like he’d rather put his own foot up his ass until he tastes the sole of his shoe. “Understood.”

“Yes ma’am,” you nod, stepping aside to let Strauss leave. “Thank you.”

You don’t bother waiting for Hotch to speak before inviting yourself into his office all the way. It takes everything in you not to slam the door behind Strauss. He yanks the blinds closed with just as much anger, chest practically heaving. You’re surprised he didn’t rip them off the wall with the force.

“What the hell was that?” you hiss. These walls, no matter how much you wish they were, aren’t soundproof, and by now you’ve probably attracted the attention of the entire goddamn floor, let alone your nosy teammates who are returning from lunch.

“I might ask you the same thing,” Hotch fires back, rounding his desk. You know what he’s doing, trying to tower over you and intimidate you. It won’t work, not with you. He should know that by now. “Did you know about this?”

“About Richard Monroe being a manipulative piece of shit? Of course I’ve known— I’m not a fucking idiot, Hotch.”

“I never said you were! Stop putting words in my—” he curses, pinching the bridge of his nose before resting his hand on his hip. “I don’t want you speaking to him.”

“Why?”

“Do I need to remind you what happened in that interrogation room?” Hotch says, voice surprisingly calm for how angry you remember him being that day. “He recognized you and you won’t tell me why—”

“Because I don’t know why,” you shoot back. It’s the honest truth, even if there’s pieces of information you could share. But you don’t want to; you’re not ready. “And I don’t know why you don’t trust me, but it’s grating on my nerves, Hotch. You say I’m a valuable asset to this team, yet you’re acting like I’m not capable of speaking to an unsub that I've spoken to before — for an hour.”

His chest is heaving, but he doesn’t say a damn thing. He just keeps standing there, looking down at you, clenching his jaw.

“I’m going to speak with Richard Monroe tomorrow,” you say, standing nearly toe-to-toe with Hotch. “Whether or not you join me is entirely up to you. But if you’re just going to act like this, then,” you gesture between the two of you, shaking your head. “Don’t bother coming. I’ll get someone else to go with me. You can call out sick for all I fucking care.”

You storm out of his office then, slamming the door behind you so hard you’d be surprised if the window didn’t rattle.

You jump when you realize Rossi is standing in his office doorway, watching you.

“What?” you snap. You don’t mean to take the frustration out on him too, but it’s hard not to when he’s lurking like that. 

Rossi raises his eyebrows, backing into his office without another word. 

You can’t deal with this right now.

Hotch’s door opens behind you and you spin around, freezing when you’re face to face with him. His expression is as unreadable as it always is, but you know he’s pissed at you.

“I’m going home to rest up before tomorrow,” you say, making sure your tone conveys it not as a request but a statement of fact. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Hotch nods once and that’s good enough for you, so you turn and head for your desk, gathering your things.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” you say, flashing a tight smile to the rest of the team. “Bye.”

“Um…bye…?” Reid looks around to be sure everyone is as confused as he is. They are, but they all shrug, letting you leave.

Up the stairs, Hotch watches you go, knuckles white from where he’s gripping the railing. He shouldn’t have let you go so easily, but you both need to cool down, and if you’re really going to do this tomorrow, you need your rest. 

From beside him, Rossi pointedly clears his throat.

Hotch turns his head, following Rossi’s silent request to follow him into his office. He pushes the door closed behind him.

Hotch starts to pace, then stops in the middle of the room, lifting his arm and dropping it in a what the hell gesture. “She’s going to speak with Richard Monroe tomorrow.”

“I heard,” Dave smirks. “And you’re going with her?”

“I have no choice, do I?” Aaron replies, rubbing his forehead. “I’ll have to tell her tomorrow. If he says anything else about recognizing her—”

“Are you sure he wasn’t saying that just to get a rise out of her? She’s a new agent, she’s attractive—” Rossi cuts himself off when he sees Hotch’s glare. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes,” Hotch says. “I know.”

“She doesn’t know him, Aaron,” Dave says. “How would she? He’s a serial killer who’s been on the run—”

“He knows things about her childhood, Dave,” Hotch cries. “If he knows about the kidnapping, and her father, then who knows what else he’s heard— who knows what he’ll do—”

“Aaron,” Rossi shakes his head. “I know you want to help her, but you can’t protect her, and she can take care of herself.”

“I know she can,” Hotch says, dropping his hand in defeat. “I know.” You’ve been taking care of everything ever since he first met you. He knows you’re more than capable.

He just doesn’t want to find out what happens when you face something you can’t handle alone — and if he’s the one who lets you go at this alone, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

He can’t shake the gut feeling that you’re in way over your head and you don’t realize it. Because you don’t even know what you’re dealing with.

+++

You hardly sleep at all, so you’re in a piss poor mood the next morning, and you blame Hotch for it. Naturally.

So, of course, it also irritates the fuck out of you when you arrive at the office and there’s a coffee waiting on your desk. And an apologetic looking Unit Chief standing next to it, identical coffee cup in hand.

You toss your purse down in your chair, glaring at Hotch. “Are you in a better mood today?”

“Peace offering?” he says instead, gesturing to the coffee on your desk.

“Did you poison it?”

He stares at you tiredly.

You pick it up, keeping your eyes on him as you inhale the steam still rising from the hole in the lid. “What is it?”

“Your favorite,” he replies. “Thought it might make the drive easier.”

“Oh?” You smirk. “Am I driving?”

“No,” he scoffs — which oddly almost sounds like a laugh.

You snicker, bringing the cup to your lips. You don’t miss the way Hotch’s eyes follow the motion, or the way they get stuck on your lips before he averts them, like he senses he’s been caught.

It takes everything in you not to call him out on it. You settle for tasting your coffee and letting out a noise of surprise.

“What?” Hotch asks. “Is it wrong?”

“No, it’s good,” you reply quickly. “It’s right. Thanks.”

He nods once. “Good. Um, I’ll be in my office. We’ll leave in about an hour.”

“Sounds good to me,” you nod, raising your cup in cheers. “See you in a bit.”

Hotch heads up to his office without another word, leaving you with a whole world of confusion. 

He’s buying you coffee now? Seriously?

Thank god no one else was here to witness that. You’d never live that one down if Morgan heard all of it.

You shove your purse aside and sit down, putting your head in your hands. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, continuing the long process of mentally preparing for speaking with Richard Monroe today.

“Long night?” 

You raise your head to glare at Morgan, but it holds no real heat. You’re too tired and you’re not even mad at him. “Don’t even get me started.”

His mouth forms an ‘o’ as inhales sharply. “That bad, huh?” He drops his bag next to his desk, instead coming over to prop himself on the edge of yours. “Talk to me.”

“Morgan,” you sigh, dropping your head back into your hands. “Not today, seriously.”

“What’s happening today?” he asks. “You never did say why you left so suddenly yesterday.”

You lift your head and glance toward Hotch’s office, slightly relieved to find his door closed and his head turned down toward paperwork on his desk. When you look back at Derek, he does the most not-subtle look over his shoulder at Hotch before looking back at you.

“No.”

You lean back, eyebrows furrowed. “No what?”

Morgan starts to grin. “You two finally get your shit together?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I see how it is,” Morgan chuckles, lightly tapping your shoulder. “Come on, tell me. Who made the first move?”

“Get off of my desk,” you say through gritted teeth, shoving his leg. “Nothing happened. I have to go speak to Richard Monroe today and Hotch is coming with—”

“What?” Morgan asks, incredulous. “Richard Monroe? Why him?”

“Because he’s not cooperating with the investigation anymore but says he will if he speaks to me first,” you explain like it’s nothing — because it is. “Strauss told me about it a couple weeks ago.”

“No,” Morgan shakes his head. “I don’t like the idea of this.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing your coffee. “Now you sound just like Hotch.”

“Good,” Morgan slides off your desk, shrugging. “‘Cause this doesn’t sound like a good idea. You had a panic attack after talking to him.”

You shake your head. “That’s not—”

“I know what those look like,” Morgan argues. “Whether or not that’s what you call them, that’s what they are.”

“Leave it alone,” you warn.

He holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright. Just— You know the drill. Call me if you need me. And try not to kill him,” he adds with a quick glance up to Hotch’s office.

“No promises,” you reply, tipping your coffee back.

+++

When Hotch comes down to the bullpen an hour later, you notice everyone’s eyes zeroing in on his coffee, then yours, taking note of the matching cups. Prentiss is first to raise her eyebrows at you. You give her a look that just says don’t. She says nothing, but her smirk tells you she’ll be messaging the group chat about it later.

“Ready?” Hotch asks.

“Yep,” you nod, grabbing your purse and standing. You offer a mock salute to the rest of your team. “See you on the other side.”

Morgan laughs, shaking his head at you. “Try not to kill each other. Please.”

You and Hotch roll your eyes at the same time, freezing when you catch the other doing it.

It takes a surprising amount of effort on your part to not smile.

You swipe your coffee off your desk, downing the last remaining drops as the two of you walk toward the exit. “Thanks for this again, by the way,” you say quietly, tossing your empty cup in the trash can in the hall. “You didn’t have to.”

“It’s not a problem,” he replies, tossing his as well while you hit the down arrow on the elevator.

The silence blankets you both inside the elevator as you stand as far apart as possible. Like you both know you need to cherish your personal space before you’re stuck in a car together for three straight hours — one way.

Since Hotch is driving, you head toward where you know his car will be in the parking deck. The spaces aren’t even assigned; he’s just a creature of habit. You, on the other hand, hardly ever park in the same spot. Hotch has always wondered why.

“If this radio turns on and starts playing some classical music bullshit, I’m going to be so disappointed in you, Hotchner,” you tease as you buckle yourself in.

Hotch says nothing as he turns the key in the ignition. A second later, The Beatles’s white album fills the car. Namely, the song “I Will”.

“Seriously?” you grin. “The white album?”

“What’s wrong with it?” he asks, immediately on the defensive.

“Nothing,” you hum, looking out the window. “I’m partial to Abbey Road.”

“Of course you would be.”

Your head whips toward him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “Nothing.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s smiling. 

You narrow your eyes before turning your head, biting back your own smile for the second time this morning.

Maybe you are warming up to each other — slightly — or maybe it means nothing. 

Whatever it is, you don’t have time to think about it today. You have a serial killer who wants to speak with you, who somehow knows who you are despite you having never met him before, and the only explanation must have something to do with your father — who Hotch still knows nothing about.

[aliwritex]

DO I WANNA KNOW? pt2 fc43

summary: franco realizes he wants more.

wc: 2.3k

warnings: 18+, pinv, oral, fingering and everything, L word obv. i did not read this through very well

Franco was acting different, you knew that, all your friends knew too. The thing was that they knew why but wouldn’t tell you. You tried making your friend talk multiple times but she would budge, you were starting to think it was something bad. Maybe he wanted to end your little arrangement and didn’t know how to, maybe you had done something wrong or maybe he just wasn’t into you anymore.

You started to keep your distance, you didn’t want him to be forced to hang out with you and maybe if you eased out of your situationship then there wouldn’t have to be an actual conversation or ‘breakup’.

And as far as situationships go, you were driving each other insane. All your friends were watching closely, it was funny really. You both thought they didn’t know about you but they had found out the same night when you ended up sleeping in the guest room before he snuck out in the morning. The – not so – subtle questions you’d ask only gave them more insight of what you two had going on. Questions like “Is she seeing someone?” or “do you think he’s been acting weird?” were being thrown and discussed in a group chat without you two.

On one side Franco had just started to feel confident enough in your relationship to confess, tell you that he wanted more. But it was making him nervous. On the other side, you were completely misreading his nervousness as something else, like he wasn’t enjoying being with you. In your defense he had gone soft on you twice because of his overthinking.

“I know we talked about you coming over tomorrow but turns out I have plans” you lied as he came back from the bathroom.

“Oh? Okay.” he tried to understand but didn’t miss the weird way you brought it up “Can I still sleep over, though? Don’t wanna drive back home. Tired”

Franco left the next morning and you didn’t talk that weekend or the week after that. And the next time the group got together you said you couldn’t make it, you would be studying for a test – which was true – but that night Franco took the opportunity to talk to your friend.

“Tina, do you think she has been acting different lately?”

“Oh, god, you will drive each other insane.” she said, taking a sip of her drink “We know you’ve got something going on so please just tell me so I can help”

So there he was, sitting in a booth in the club boring Tina to death as he told her everything he deemed important about your relationship.

“Look,” she spoke when he finished, “from what I’ve gathered, she thinks you’re not into her anymore and to be fair I’m guessing you’re the guy that went soft on her twice.”

“She told you? I was- I don’t have to explain myself to you” he realized.

“Didn’t ask you to. Franco, the point is, I think she’s really into you and you should do something about it because she’s trying to push you away”

“How could she possibly think I’m not into her? I’ve been throwing myself at her for over a year!” he was genuinely surprised and couldn’t understand how you came to that conclusion.

“Then maybe keep doing it, okay? She says you’ve been acting different, I get it that you’re nervous about telling her but you can’t let that affect your performance, darling, apparently that’s all your relationship is based on”

“I hate you. Why would she tell you that?” he whined “She won’t really talk to me, she’s making excuses and avoiding my texts.” his explanation comes out as a sigh.

“Bother her a little more, show up to her house, she’ll give in eventually.” she shrugged, getting up from her seat.

Franco left the club earlier that night and texted you before getting in his car. “you still awake?”

You rolled your eyes at the text, yes you were still awake at one in the morning, but it was because you were busy. “i’m studying franco” “not a good time.”

He only read your text, didn’t say anything else because he was driving. Driving to your place but not without a quick stop to a 24 hour grocery store. He knew that if you had been deep into your studies to be up that late you deserved some good snacks and just as he was leaving he saw some mediocre flowers, they would have to do, so he picked a small colorful bouquet – he didn’t know your favorite color but it was surely amongst them.

He didn’t text or call cause you would tell him no, so he just showed up at your door and knocked. You knew immediately it was him.

“Fran, I said I’m bu-“ your mouth stopped moving when you saw him with a grocery bag and the flowers in his hand. Franco froze, he forgot to think of what to say. “I told you I was busy”

After a couple of seconds – that felt way too long for him – staring at you he finally spoke, “I thought you might be needing some rewards, for studying so hard” he lifted up the bag, showing it to you.

You stood in front of him, your head rested against the door, watching him smile a little when he realized you were wearing his shirt. “Hope you don’t mind”

“No, never. Guess if I forgot it wasn’t that important in the first place.” he paused for a second, still looking at you “I got you these” he lifted the flowers “figured the ones you had last time I was here would be dead by now. I realized I don’t know your favorite color, or what flowers you like, think I was too busy looking at something else other than your flowers. I guessed you had to like at least one flower or one color from this one.”

“Fran, what is this about?”

“I wante- Can I come in?” he asked nervously.

You moved out of the doorway to let him through, smiling to yourself as you realized you were completely wrong. He put the things down on the table by your door as you locked it and when you turned back your arms wrapped around his neck, as you kissed.

His hands came down to your waist and he was slightly surprised at your sudden action, but melted into the kiss. “Missed me?”

“A little” you confessed, pulling away from him and walking to your bedroom.

You heard him follow right behind you, reaching for your hand when you walked in. Your lips met again but this time his hands guide your legs and guide them to wrap around his hips as he walks to the bed. He placed you where he wanted, right in the middle with your back against the pillows, your legs naturally spreading for him to settle between. He knelt up for a second, grabbing the stuffed animals around you and throwing them on the floor. You rolled your eyes.

“You know I don’t like them here”

He smiled and bent down to kiss you. His hands sneaked up your hips to your waist, under your shirt. Yours ran around his neck, nails against the sensitive skin, knowing it would turn him on. His lips lowered to your jaw, making you let out a sigh, relaxing all your muscles after being tense in a desk all day. He let his hips meet yours, grinding slightly against yours as his mouth started working on your neck, sucking and kissing all the spots he knew. His hands then lowered to the band of your shorts and tugged them down till he had to pull away from you to slip them off your legs.

“You look good in my clothes, should leave them around here more often” he smiled, making you blush as he positioned himself between your legs, laying on your bed.

Your hand reached out to caress his cheek, he smiled against the skin of your thigh before kissing it. He started leaving open mouthed kisses all over, your thighs, your lower stomach and over your panties, making you shiver when you felt his lips brushing against your cunt, only your thin underwear separating you. But not for long, once he felt like he had teased you enough his fingers hooked on the sides of your panties and slowly dragged them down, then he was facing your bare cunt, wet and ready for him.

Franco licked his lips at the sight before sticking his tongue out to spread your lips apart. He moaned when your taste hit his tongue, he had missed it. Once he started he was unstoppable, licking into you till his tongue and lips were covered in your wetness. Your hands dropped to grab his head when he took your clit into his mouth. His fingers joined the combo, slowly making their way inside you before gently curling up, he was making a mess out of you. Moans started leaving your mouth as he worked on you. His free hand made its way inside your shirt, reaching up to palm your tit. Your back arched onto his touch immediately, making your hips shift slightly and his fingers reach the perfect spot inside you.

“Fran” you whined, grasping his hair harder.

He just fucked his fingers harder into you, making you see stars and clench around them, By that point he knew you were close, just a couple more thrusts right to your gspot and you’d be gone. You felt your walls tightening as he started sucking harder on your clit, your muscles tensing and your legs trying to close around his head till he pushed you over the edge, making you cum around his fingers. Franco kept working you through your orgasm, his movements slowing till they came to a stop. You were biting a smile back as he kissed your thighs and your stomach, making his way up your body.

Your lips met again in an intense kiss, as you reached down to unbutton his jeans. He chuckled against your lips at your desperateness but helped you kick them off and knelt up for a second just to pull off his shirt. When he bent over your body again you flipped over him, straddling his legs as he looked up at you, surprised. You took his lips back to yours, kissing down his face to his neck as your hand reached down to rub his cock through his underwear. As small as the touch was it made him sigh, almost moan.

“Guess you missed me too” you teased before pulling him out of his underwear.

It was only a few pumps of your hand before raspy and shaky moans were making their way past his lips, “please” he whined.

You took a condom from your nightstand, making quick work of getting it on him. His lips were parted and his brows were just as expressive as always, furrowed together as you guided his cock between your lips, sliding yourself back and forth onto him just to tease. A struggling moan left his lips as his hands dropped to your hips, lifting you up so you could guide him inside. You lost all composure when he slipped into you, it felt like those couple of days without him had been so much more and like he was fucking you for the first time again.

His hands started guiding your hips slowly, letting you both get used to the feeling as you pulled him into another kiss. Your hands rested on his chest as you started moving faster, your hips now moving in circles, making your clit rub against his skin. He could feel your thighs flexing under his hands as you moved but what he couldn’t take his eyes off of was your face when you pulled away. Your bottom lip was trapped between your teeth, soft moans still escaping your throat, your eyes were screwed shut and your brows furrowed as you concentrated on making yourself feel good.

All it took for your high to wash over you was the gentle touch of his fingers to your clit and you were coming for him, clenching around his cock as your hips stilled on top of his. He waited a second before guiding you to move again. You knew he was close too, his body was giving you all the signs and his face was twisted in pleasure, just a little more and he would be there. You reached out for his face, making his eyes open after you kissed. Franco stared into your eyes for a second, eyes open as he came. He kissed your thumb that brushed his lip and spoke in a soft whisper “I’m in love with you”

You smiled, bending over to kiss him “I figured,” you said with a chuckle. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and pulled you down to kiss him, both breaking into smiles as your lips met, “and I’m in love with you too”

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer till you were rolling on your sides, still connected and kissing. Franco only pulled out when you groaned into his mouth but he couldn’t bring himself to unwrap his arms around you.

“I bought ice cream, you know” he whispered after a while “do you think it’s melted yet?”

“I think you should go find out” you whispered back “you were the one that said I needed a reward for studying so hard.” he scoffed and nodded on your shoulder but when he tried to pull away you held him back “No, stay. I don’t mind melted ice cream, I actually like it better.”

[erosauriarts]

Day 27- Love

(Mini Fic bc I can’t control myself)

A knock at the door, though Atsushi knew who damn well it was. Kyouka waited for a response but Atsushi’s pouts only told her how this was going to go.

“Are you not going to tell him to leave?” Kyouka whispered.

“I can not deal with him messing with me right now.” Another knock, this time it sounded a bit more eager. Atsushi pinched the bridge over his nose and in his fit sank in his seat. His leg bounced with a heavy recoil.

“He’s not going to stop.” Kyouka said quickly, because she knew Atsushi was going to cut her off. “He never stops.” Atsushi did exactly what she predicted. “He just messes with me and finds it fun or something. Bother me here there, humiliate me there.. I’m done, Kyouka.”

Another bang, “Atsushi, you know I can hear you, let me just talk.” Dazai’s words sounded a bit slurred. “He is not… Drunk!” Atsushi in his fit slammed is fist into the table.

Any motives to keep to himself left the window. Atsushi had stormed to the door, ripping it open that it almost felt to come off it’s hinges. Dazai stood in front of him. His clothes and hair were a mess, as if he were tugging and pulling on them. He had sweat and a bit of blush. He reeked of booze.

“What.” Atsushi said through his teeth.

Kyouka was behind the weretiger, peaking over his shoulder to see the mess in the hallway.

“Before you slam the door on me, I want to say I’m sorry.” Dazai saw Atsushi reach for the door, his hand stopped it’s momentum. The noise of the slam echoed through the space around them. “See, I knew you’d do that.”

“Wow, aren’t you so smart.” Atsushi glared up at him. “I know you’re angry, but the sass. I’m trying here. Just entertain me?” Dazai said desperately. Atsushi lifted a brow, “Wrong words. Please.”

“Go on, Dazai.” Atsushi groaned. His arms formed a tight knit pose.

The brunette straightened himself up, “I’m sorry. You should know this was not your fault and I set it up because I was scared.”

“You… Scared?” Atsushi commented.

“I… I have this habit if something gets close to me, I rig it so I lose before I get truly attached. I don’t know why I do it, just that in the moment it was… a good idea.” Dazai looked down at this point, “I’ll torment them, tease, mess with their head. I did it as a teen and I still do it now. You were… getting to me and I acted to scare you off. Pissing you off was what I wanted at the time… Just, I felt like shit humiliating you like that. Unlike the other ones, I didn’t feel relief, I felt sad and alone. So I got drunk and crashed in the street. Kunikida found me and gave me my pants… That I lost for some reason? It seemed like losing my pants told me- you’re different compared to the others. I wasn’t okay with you leaving because I think I love you? I don’t know what that means or will happen? I feel like shit and I’m sorry for doing that to you… I just wanted to tell you and give you closure.” Atsushi and Kyouka didn’t know when their jaw dropped. Just all those words felt weird coming from his mouth and specifically from Dazai. Once the brunette looked at them, his face dropped.

“Wait, that isn’t what I meant to say! Ugh,” A fist bonked his head. “That isn’t how I wanted to tell you that.”

“You… Love me?” Atsushi instantly down his guard, he relaxed his arms, “You’re so bad with emotions… I should have guessed. I’m not mad anymore… But most people who crushes on someone gets them gifts or asks them out.” “I… I know what I did was not okay. I just, I know I ruined my chances, but I still want to be friends.”

“Who said I consider them ruined? I’m not mad anymore, but I do not want to talk about this while you’re drunk. Go home and we’ll talk about over coffee?” Both Dazai and Kyouka responded the same way with their opened cat like expressions.

“Yep. Okay. I can do that…” Dazai nervously pant his thigh and backed up, “9?”

“You know you’re not getting up at 9.” Atsushi chuckled, “11. You know which one.” Dazai looked away before smiling back. He left the view. Atsushi closed the door.

“You took that well.” Kyouka said impressed.

Atsushi nearly collapsed but caught himself on the door, in a muffled squeal, “He likes me back.”

“Have some honor!” Kyouka teased with a push.

[quibbs126]

God I wish I had a good caption for this, but I do not. Best I can think of is “I depend on you”, but it also has nothing to do with the blue and yellow drawing at all

But in any case, this is a thing I drew today

I was trying and failing at giving Lux a good alt mode design, and that paired with other things was making me really discouraged, and I sort of ended up just starting to draw this, and then I ended up liking where it was going, which brought up my mood today, so that’s good

As such, I don’t actually have much context for what this scene is

It’s also featuring some more 3D elements in the design, since attempting to draw Transformers One again has put that back in my head, though since I still don’t know exactly how the forearms/hands work, it’s a bit less effective than I would have liked. But I’m slightly less sloppy with the anatomy I think, yay

I’m also now noticing Megatron looks a bit off, but I think part of that is that his arm is obscured by Optimus’, and while it made sense in the sketch, it looks a bit weird now

I also had to slightly change Optimus’ expression from sketch to lineart since the correct placement for his eyebrows would have made it so you don’t see his full expression, so I had to bring them down. It sounds minuscule but his eyebrows higher up did change the expression (it had more shock than the current more quiet concern)

I think I’m realizing that the sketch might have looked better than the final version, at least to me. Oh well

I also may or may not have went ham on lighting and shading, probably to an unnecessary degree. It’s just that this was the only image on the canvas and I really liked it, so I wanted to spiff it up, make it more nice looking

This is a version with significantly less of it, and also a white border because I was considering that before I realized it made it look a bit too sticker like. But I just think the flat colors on their own have merit too

Anyways, like I said, I don’t really have much context for this image, since it was just something I made to make something

Best I can come up with is this interaction happening sometime after Kiloton’s death, with Megatron still not over it and coming to Optimus for comfort. Optimus is a bit shocked at first (not to mention he’s got his own currently unrequited feelings for Megatron that he really doesn’t want to act on right now when Megs is emotionally vulnerable), but he chooses to comfort his friend anyways

Or alternatively, this is Megatron feeling overwhelmed about his whole lie about his infection and the terrible questions the truth brings, and again, going to Optimus to feel better. Optimus does the same in this scenario, it’s just that he doesn’t really know what’s bothering Megatron, since he refuses to tell him the truth. But he’ll be there for him regardless, hoping one day he feels comfortable enough to tell him

But yes, thing I drew that I quite like. Probably would be more impactful if the majority of the description wasn’t me just talking about the design process and my own personal nitpicks