#I was speechless even without the -you don’t talk much- comment

[not-quite-wild]

When you lead off talking about time in the military, transition to your mother who had you at 14, and then turn to someone who was not explicitly included in the conversation to say “you don’t talk much, do you?” what am I supposed to say? “I’m horrified that your mother never got to be a teenager”? I didn’t get the impression this person would appreciate that…

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. coming home from university has both stressed and tired you out — causing you to forget about satoru’s birthday. maybe your boyfriend could help you remember.

word count. 4.7k-ish

note. was supposed to come out on his (our) bday but writer’s block was ruthless :p hope you enjoy anyway x

tags. older bf!gojo satoru x sub!female reader. p.orn with plot. fluff to smut. age gap (reader 20 - early 20’s, satoru’s in his early 30’s). p in v -> unprotected, size difference, missionary, creampie, breast play, dirty talk, body worship, hickeys, praise, you f.uck in the kitchen, aftercare-ish, reader gets called ‘princess, sweetheart, baby, pretty.’ i present to you soft dom&older bf!gojo satoru. he’s absolutely smitten with you btw.

“lookin’ tired, sweetheart.” satoru comments with a subtle grin as he welcomes you home. home being his apartment that you had basically moved into. why? because it was close to the university you attend.

and maybe because your lover had coaxed you into it.

you sigh, eyes half closed and glazed over. the stress of exams, assignments and whatnot has been too much for your brain, “yeah, i’m sorry. i probably look like absolute shi—”

a pair of lips were quick to shut your negative remark up. satoru pulls you closer to him by the small of your back. his fluffy bangs brush over his closed eyes, the hairs lightly grazing your forehead as well. he smells and tastes sweet. like those strawberry flavoured candies he always carries with him in his pockets.

a faint string of saliva hanging between your two mouths was all that’s left after the intense kiss. it snaps, causing the small bit of liquid to cling onto your bottom lip.

“what’d i say about apologising when you did absolutely nothing wrong?” satoru asks in a gentle and hushed tone. his thumb presses down on your bottom lip to get rid of the transparent trail of saliva. his gaze is soft and loving — like it always is when he looks at you.

that man had once again rendered you speechless. it’s the small things that make you fall for him over and over, “that—uhm—i shouldn’t apologise for something i don’t have any control over.”

satoru’s dimples show as he looks down at you fondly. a large hand settles on the top of your head, messing up your hair whilst his lips lock yours in for another kiss.

“exactly,” your lover nods in approval before grabbing your bag and placing it aside. he also helps you take off your coat and even bends down to undo your shoes for you.

you wonder how you’ve even managed to land such a man.

satoru’s long fingers work quick to undo the laces on your shoes. your tired eyes can’t help but steal a glance at the veins that run down his slender hands — up his forearms and. . .

“somethin’ on your mind, princess?” his voice calls out as he massages your feet for a split second to ease the accumulated tension from all the walking. you simply shake your head ‘no’, though satoru knows you better than you know yourself.

with a light-hearted chuckle, he raises to his full length and leads you through the hallway. his footsteps were light whilst yours were the exact opposite: heavy and exhausted.

maybe a shower or bath would help you refresh and relax. thus, that’s exactly what the sorcerer recommends;

“why don’t you go take a nice shower whilst i prepare you a hot meal, hm?” satoru comments and stops in his tracks right before the door to the bathroom. his gaze lingers on your pretty face—his hands never leaving your skin.

the idea of taking a shower did seem like the ideal solution to your problems at the moment, “okay i will, but err. . .”

your voice trails off as you look up at satoru. his knuckles run over your cheeks lovingly and his warm gaze tells you that he’s smitten with you. totally. utterly. he makes you so nervous without even realising it in the slightest.

“you don’t have to cook me something. i know work has been hard on you too.” you finish your sentence with an apologetic little smile. one that makes satoru want to squeeze your cheeks together.

you had always been a bit selfless and it’s an admirable trait, but your boyfriend also has this gnawing urge to take care of you in any way he can. maybe it’s because he’s a few years older than you and knows from experience how tough things could get at your age.

satoru smirks and pokes your sides playfully, “don’t you worry your pretty little head ‘bout that. now let’s get you in that shower.”

a little yelp leaves your throat as you feel yourself get hoisted over his shoulder. the white-haired sorcerer opens the door with one hand, the other protectively placed on your waist to keep you from falling.

he settles you back on your feet in the middle of the room—eyes now filled with a playful glint. you could probably already guess the next words that leave his mouth.

“need help undressing? i’ll gladly do it for you,” satoru laughs. you roll your eyes and teasingly shove him towards the door. he puts his hands in the air to show his surrender, though doesn’t miss the opportunity to look you over one last time.

you’re like the embodiment of beauty even when your eyes have lost their usual spark. even if you barely have any energy left to do anything. he loves every side of you, no matter what.

resisting the urge to pull you into his arms for the nth time, your boyfriend eventually leaves you be and closes the door as he steps out. his mind, however, was still overly full with thoughts of you.

“ah, what a woman.” satoru mutters in pure amazement under his breath after departing from the bathroom. there’s a visible spring in his step as he walks to the kitchen—happy to take care of his girl.

. . .

you finish your much needed bath after about half an hour. you look in the bathroom mirror whilst wrapping a simple white towel around your torso. the bath sure did help to clear your mind, though there’s still one thing bothering you. something you’ve forgotten.

you can’t really put your finger on it, but it must have been something important. there’s an iffy feeling in your chest as you walk out of the bathroom — instantly heading towards the kitchen. surely, satoru could help you remember it.

“toru,” you call out before stepping into the kitchen. your lover is standing at the counter, his back towards you and his hands working fast to chop up some vegetables. the many pans and stoves scattered around the area only further prove his determination to prepare you a nice hot meal.

“yeah, princ— oh.” satoru eventually turns his head, looking over his shoulder to see you standing a few steps behind him. he couldn’t believe his luck; to have his gorgeous, gorgeous girlfriend in his apartment was one thing—but having his girlfriend in front of him with only a towel on was another thing. the remaining waterdroplets running down your skin made you all the more attractive.

he grins as he puts the knife down and quickly dries his hands. he couldn’t wait to put his hands on your body, “c’mere, pretty.”

you grunt the moment satoru envelopes you into a tight hug with your face squished into his chest. he nuzzles his cheek against the top of your head—over dramatically acting as if he hasn’t seen you for days.

his hands teasingly find their way under the material of the towel. the tips of his fingers are cold in comparison to your warm and damp skin. he drags the pad of his thumb up and down the curve of your ass; sighing in content as he feels the plush flesh.

“perv.” you mutter under your breath, though can’t deny that the light touch makes you putty in his hands. satoru responds with his usual ‘only when it comes to you’ comment before pulling away to take in your embarrassed expression. he lives for those physical reactions you have to his advances.

you slightly turn your head to the right, purposely avoiding his gaze. you face the door of the fridge that you stood in front of. your eyes fall onto the sticky notes. there’s one standing out from all the others.

you had placed it on there a few weeks ago so you wouldn’t accidentally forget that oh-so-important date.

turns out you did just that.

your face drops and you instantly go into panic mode. how could you fail to recall that today is satoru’s birthday? you don’t even know how to explain yourself. no amount of excuses would ever make this right. or so you thought.

satoru is an attentive lover; he is aware of almost everything that’s going on in your head. perhaps he is good at reading minds. or perhaps it’s just that your body language and facial expressions disclose everything he needs to know about your current mood.

“hey, i’m not upset.” satoru breathes out, eyes closed as he slides ticklish kisses down your neck. it is a sign of reassurance; he doesn’t want you to conclude that he’s angry with you for forgetting such a thing. besides, he understands that being an university student is a struggle by itself, “having you here with me at the end of the day ‘s all that matters to me, okay?”

you sigh, both in frustration and content. you’re frustrated with yourself for being too caught up with your studies, though you’re also appreciative for satoru’s empathy and lenience. he is so kind and mature; always optimistic about everything. your mindset is the opposite of his. your age gap sure did explain those cognitive differences.

despite satoru’s consolation, you still feel like you owe him something. you tilt your head back so you’re able to look him in the eyes. you give him the cutest pout ever and that man is—once again—feeling light-headed. satoru can’t decide whether to continue consoling you or to tease you about forgetting his birthday.

you are adorable when you sulk.

“i’m still.. well, sorry.” you sniffle, cuddling up to your lover to show your genuine remorse, “i know that you wouldn’t ever forget about my birthday - no matter how busy you might. . . .”

blahblahblah. you are babbling on and on about how inappropriate it is of you to forget his birthday, but satoru is hearing none of that.

his coherent thoughts shut down the moment he felt your tits press up against his chest. it is meant as an innocent hug on your part, however apparently couldn’t be interpreted as one.

your visible cleavage and the way the towel is doing a bad job at hiding the volume of your breasts increases the lewd thoughts gathering in his mind. there is no way that he can survive any more physical contact between you two without taking some action.

“..so, i was thinking that i could make it up to you somehow.” you conclude at one point in the conversation. satoru’s body subtly jolts as he snaps out of his dazed state.

he gives you a sheepish smile and tries to play it off by continuing the conversation, “make it up to me, huh?”

you nod in response and give him your best puppy eyes. your lover sighs in defeat; satoru couldn’t keep his emotions and carnal desires in check anymore. his hands are twitching, aching and longing to touch you all over.

the rational part of his mind told him to continue comforting you. to tell you that there was no need to compensate for failing to remember his birthday. the lust-driven part of him craves to take you up on the offer and give a different and more sexual twist to it.

satoru takes a deep breath and puts some distance between you two. not because he is annoyed or irritated by your behaviour, but because he might lose control of himself.

you can’t guess the intentions behind your lover’s actions, thus confusion follows; “satoru? you okay?”

maybe he actually is displeased by your lack of remembrance—deep, deep inside. you bite your lip anxiously, reaching your hand out to hold satoru’s in attempt to try and get him to look at you. his vision is obstructed by his own bangs, a dark shadow casted over his eyes, one that prevents you from gauging his mood.

you feel a light electric shock go through your body the instant your fingers curled around his hand. your boyfriend’s body stiffens and it’s like time stilled.

“fuck, i tried.” satoru mutters under his breath.

then, before you knew what was happening, you’re pinned to the door of the fridge. there are efforts made to articulate proper words, but the shock has overtaken all your senses. it isn’t like you could speak either—your lips are sealed shut by your lover’s.

his hands didn’t waste a single second now that they have free rein. they fondle you everywhere; from cupping your cheeks, to sliding down your neck and lower. his fingers rub up against the area where your nipples would be, sensually stroking them through the towel. his feverish kisses combined with his constant touches make you shiver in exhilaration.

you’re trying to keep up with his sudden burst of lust and that’s adorable to the white-haired sorcerer. he can feel you struggling to keep yourself balanced on your toes, your arms wrap tightly around his neck so you’d be inseparable. you feel him grin against your lips for a split second—the gesture alerting you of what might be coming.

“mmh,” satoru grunts once he frees your bare body from its confines. he finally breaks the kiss—the sole reason being to admire the sight of you.

it feels like he just unveiled a heavenly painting. his eyes don’t know what to focus on. if he is to properly and completely appreciate your nude body, it’d take him days or even weeks, “god, have i ever told you how lucky i am to be yours?”

your heart stutters in your chest as all attention is on you. the gentle yet hungry touch of your lover, his hands caressing everywhere they can reach and his half-lidded eyes that are focused on your most intimate parts—you don’t know how much more you can take.

satoru’s breathing becomes even heavier than it was moments ago. he leans his head down to your level, lips hovering above the space between your neck and shoulder. his mouth latches onto your skin after taking a moment to try and keep himself from rushing into things. but alas, he is a simple man.

his lips work precisely and diligently to leave hickeys on every inch. his teeth gently sink into your flesh here and there, his warm saliva coating the faint markings left. your body is his canvas for tonight and the many other nights that are yet to come — for as long as you give him permission to.

“ngh— t.. toru,” you stammer, almost squealing. the sloppy kisses left on your sensitive skin resulted in you whining for more. satoru feels a rush of satisfaction like no other; the frequency of his touches only increasing with each sound erupting from your throat. his tongue slides over your plump breasts, his fingers flicking the nipple he isn’t sucking on.

he eventually detaches from your tits, leaving them both covered in his saliva. he hums in delight at the erotic view and gives both your breasts a last kiss. satoru looks up into your eyes again—a sense of want in them, “you look like you have somethin’ to say, baby.”

you do, but, don’t know how to bring the message across. it is embarrassing to say all of your thoughts out loud; all that you actually want him to do that you. you know satoru would love it if you do, however you do not have the guts to.

your body does all the talking anyway. there is a pool of slick forming between your thighs, your bodily fluids showing just how aroused you are. you aren’t the only one in that state; satoru has had a raging hard-on the entire time.

“i want you,” there it goes.

you avert your eyes, though not for long. gentle fingers hold your chin up, forcing you to stare at your lover. his face is intensely close and your heart is in your throat. satoru grins at your shy behaviour, finding it all the more endearing.

“awh, my little princess wants me?” he pouts, almost mockingly if you didn’t know better. his gaze flickers downwards, “where d’ya want me? show me, baby.”

if you aren’t embarrassed already, you’d sure be now. satoru’s teasing words and the sultry tone of voice he uses eventually urges you to comply. your shaky fingers wrap around his wrist, bringing his hand down towards your tingling cunt, “here.”

the older man hisses at the direct contact his hand makes with your pussy. it is so wet and ready — he wanted nothing more than to bury his fat cock between your folds and feel your sweet little cunt cling onto it.

he cups your cunt delicately, grazing his thumb against your clit. he traces faint circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves to make you squirm and whimper in pleasure. his other fingers spread your folds apart so he can collect your wetness on them.

“how naughty,” satoru sighs. his index finger prods at your entrance, but your thighs clamp down around his hand before he’s able to push it in.

he snickers in amusement and retracts his hand. he licks your juices off of his long fingers in a painfully slow manner, “well.. who am i to deny you? what the princess says, goes.”

satoru lifts your body up in his arms, allowing your legs to wrap around his waist. he kisses you passionately again—his tongue swirling around yours. you exchange soft moans as your hands lift his shirt up and over his head.

you cut the kiss short to appreciate the sight of your lover’s well-built upper body. that drives him utterly insane. that look you give him.

satoru curses under his breath and pulls you down onto the carpet below. he carefully places you on your back and—once you are settled—instantly rushes to undo his grey sweatpants.

his eyes are darting from his clothes to your naked body under him. god, he wants to fuck you so bad. the view of you spread out and patiently waiting for him to take you had him weak in the knees. it’s a sinful scene, yet the pleading and almost innocent-like look in your eyes is a complete contrast.

“don’t worry, i’ll give it to you in a second, baby.” satoru grins once he pulls his boxers down to his knees—revealing his hardened cock. he strokes it slowly and the pre-cum drips down the shaft, his thumb smearing the droplets all over his pink tip.

after getting a couple strokes in, he grabs the base of his dick and guides it to your wet cunt. satoru rubs his tip up and down your slit. what he didn’t expect is for his cockhead to slide into you so easily. he didn’t even have to put in the slightest of effort.

your back arches due to the feeling and your nails dig into the carpet below you. the mixture of your slick and his pre-cum is all the lubricant you need.

“shit. seems like she doesn’t wanna let go any time soon.” satoru addresses your cunt with a groan whilst he slips his fat cock deeper into you. his eyes roll back as he feels the warmth of your pussy engulfing him, “. . .not like i was planning to leave her empty anyway.”

you moan and shiver at both satoru’s dirty words and his dick that’s currently stuffing your insides full. your mouth hangs open, your eyes remain shut and your brain takes in all the granted sensations. adjusting to his lengthy size takes you a few seconds and when you gave your boyfriend permission to continue— that’s exactly what he does.

his hips thrust in an almost hypnotising rhythm: back and forth, back and forth. every interval between the firm movements is the exact same. the thing that differs and makes the experience all the better, is the difference in strength behind each thrust.

one moment he’s carefully sliding in and out of your sopping cunt and in the next he’s forcefully slamming his cock all the way in and out. satoru stifles his moans by attaching his lips to yours—capturing them in a sloppy, rough kiss.

“satoru—satoru, ah, please.. right there,” you mewl into his mouth. his tongue finds yours and your salivas mix.

your lover answers your pleas by holding onto your hand, your fingers interlocking with his thumb soothingly rubbing your skin. satoru never fails to make you feel loved during intimate acts like these. no matter how filthy, nasty and rough he’s fucking you.

you arch your back and your chest presses against satoru’s, causing him to groan against your lips. a cocky grin appears on his face after he moves his head to the crook of your neck. he leaves a couple hickeys along the area of your throat—his hips not giving you a break. even as you continuously whimper and look like you’re about to lose your mind from pleasure.

that’s what satoru wants; to have you come undone beneath him. it’s the most beautiful thing in the world to him. others may call it perverted, but the older man always aims to make you reach as many orgasms as you can in one night. it fuels his carnal desires to see you convulse and shake after every intense climax.

his baby feeling good is all he wants to achieve.

“mhm, i know, princess. i know.” satoru breathes out and returns his lips to yours. he can’t go on long without tasting you. you’re like a drug he’s addicted to. every reaction—small or big—gets him going, “take it easy—fuck, you can do that f’me."

you reply with incoherent noises of agreement. there’s not a thought going on behind those watery eyes of yours. that much is obvious to your boyfriend.

your legs lock his cock inside of you by wrapping around his hips. your eyes are glazed over; a cockdrunk look. one that would make any man cum on spot.

“princess, wait,” satoru whines. he can’t stop himself, yet he’s telling you to wait. his body refuses to come to a halt as it strives towards a satisfying orgasm. he can feel it, his balls tightening and ready to spill everything they have, “if you continue looking at me like that, ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum.”

he isn’t lying. you’re nearly driving him over the edge with everything you do. your legs that tighten their grip around his hips in fear of him pulling out is his favorite thing to experience. it’s like you’re desperate to continue.

your hands play with his sweaty body, fingers caressing his hard chest to feel his heartbeat. you’re drooling. your head is spinning as you think of your lover claiming you. fucking his precious cum into you, “inside—want it inside. all of it.”

satoru chokes on his spit. you don’t know what you do to him. muttering such erotic words causes the older man to malfunction every time. without fail. his hips are painfully ramming against yours.

“you sure? ah, shit.” satoru curses. his brows are furrowed, his hands holding you by your jaw. the view of you with your head tilted back and your teary eyes looking straight into his is pure perfection, “can’t deny you when you look so hot begging me to cum inside your greedy little pussy.”

the room is spinning. your nails claw into satoru’s back, leaving faint red marks on his pale skin. you shudder the instant he slides out of you until all that’s left is his pink tip prodding at your entrance.

it’s like he gets off on it. to see you whimper, quiver and struggle to contain your pleas for permission to cum. your boyfriend drags his tip up and down your slit, tapping it against your clit repeatedly.

“cum f’me, baby.” satoru coos. he knows you’re right on the edge. before you can reply, he shoves his cock back inside your spasming cunt—ruthlessly pounding you until you scream his name.

your eyes roll back and all you can do is hold your breath the moment the intense orgasm washes over you. your hips buck, your legs tremble and your pussy gushes all over his cock.

spurts of clear liquid cover satoru’s thighs. you squirting isn’t something he had expected to see, but it is a pleasant surprise regardless. it all gets too much for your lover and it drives him to his own climax as well.

satoru hugs you tightly to him. your chests press together with one of his arms holding your upper body up—his nose buried into your hair. a muffled grunt escapes his mouth and that’s when you know that he's reaching his finish.

“please—take it, take it, take it,” satoru stutters and stammers. he can’t form any proper words the moment his cock twitches and releases a huge load of sperm into your womb. it’s an overwhelming amount; globs of transculent white liquid ooze out from between your folds.

his sticky cum slides down to your asshole and onto the carpet, staining it. satoru bites his bottom lip whilst his body is still recovering, cock going soft once he pulls it out. he doesn’t know what to do or where to look, yet somehow his gaze always darts back to your dripping cunt.

“fuck. . . that’s hot.” the older man takes in a deep breath. it’s too soon to get hard again, he figures. the way you’re still trembling and struggling to catch your breath tells him enough. you need a break. and a well-deserved one it is.

your weak taps against satoru’s shoulder snaps him out of his dazed state. he takes your hand in his and gently squeezes before helping you into a sitting position. his blue eyes flash with worry,

“hey, hey, baby—you okay?” satoru asks. his voice is raspy, though obviously filled with concern. he rubs your back and encourages you to take deep breaths. small kisses to your temples help calm you down too.

your breathing eventually returns to normal. you chuckle tiredly and lean your head against his shoulder. your attentive lover wipes the saliva from the corners of your lips and does the same with the tears around your eyes. you sniff, “y-yeah. just felt amazing, hehe.”

satoru sighs in relief. he was scared that he hurt you somehow. your confession makes him laugh and squeeze your body against his. he cups your face and kisses you twice out of pure adoration.

you’re always ten times more adorable to him after you’ve had sex.

“aw, glad it did.” satoru smiles, his dimples showing. your eyes glisten and you smile back out of reflex. you pucker your lips and your lover takes the hint. he presses his mouth against yours once more; this time playfully swiping his tongue over your bottom lip.

you pull back and teasingly swat his bicep. satoru tickles your side as a response. and that’s how you once again end on the floor, with a heavy weight pressing onto your front.

satoru nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck and breathes in your scent. you’re the best thing to have happened to him. you, the love of his life.

“the best present i could have ever gotten.” the white-haired sorcerer mumbles to no one in particular. though, you heard it. faintly.

you rub his back. you’re sure you made it up to him. he’s clinging onto you, nearly suffocating you by laying on top of your smaller body, but you don’t mind. you play with his hair and your fingernails graze against his undercut to which satoru reacts with a low purr.

you’re happy. he’s happy. that’s all that matters;

“happy birthday, my love.”

[angelsheartts]

୭ JEALOUSY ˚. ᵎᵎ ~

#pairing : lucifer, adam, alastor, angel dust, husk, valentino, vox, x gn reader.

#cw: jealousy?, +18 in valentino's/vox's part, suggestive content ig, cuss words lmao.

#notes: u guys don’t know how much i wanna know why lilith made a deal with adam, and how could she even fumbled lucifer.

⋆.ೃ- LUCIFER .

i don't think lucifer gets jealous easily, at least, but if he is jealous, he will surely become reallyyyy clingy and will try to show off. i mean, he's the sin of pride, after all.

being the partner of the king of hell really meant that there would always be people staring at you, even ones who had no shame at all and would flirt with you, sometimes even in front of lucifer.

"would you mind if I bought you a drink, sweetheart?" a powerful overlord asked you, making lucifer raise an eyebrow and look at the overlord with one of his annoyed characteristics expressions, and before you could even reply anything, lucifer had already bought you both the whole menu of drinks while clinging onto you. "do you think this is enough for you, (name)?" he asked, making the overlord stop bothering you both and making you gasp a soft sigh, knowing he did all of this with such an innocent face, as if he wasn’t getting annoyed just a second ago.

⋆.ೃ- ADAM .

his ego is too big for him to even consider the idea of being jealous, but boy, does he want to get rid of the fucking asshole who is talking to you.

even though you were adam's third wife/adam's first husband, you were nice to being around. not like your husband, who always made snarky comments about everything and everyone.

sometimes, though, people would flirt with you without you noticing, making your husband really irritated and dragging you away while flipping off the angel who initially flirted with you and making some snarky remarks about them. "(name), that bitch was literally fucking you with his eyes! you should have called me before, next time make sure to be around me, got it?" adam called out, making you giggle since his insults were sometimes so unexpected.

⋆.ೃ- ALASTOR .

alastor is the kind of guy who wouldn’t get jealous; maybe once an extermination you would see him acting a little possessive over you, but really, this guy knows your soul belongs to him, so why would there be a need to feel jealous?

actually, only your friends at the hazbin hotel where the only ones who knew about your relationship with alastor; it made sense, since he knew you could get in danger if someone else found out.

that didn’t meant that angel dust wouldn’t take the opportunity to flirt with you as a joke while trying to get a reaction from you. "(name), i think you would get pretty popular if you started to appear on my films" he said jokingly to you, while alastor just looked at him with his usual smile "i don’t think that (name) would want to get involved in that kind of stuff, angel dust, isn’t that right, dear?" alastor answered, kissing your cheek, and leaving you speechless since he mostly kept his affection for when the both of you where alone.

⋆.ೃ- ANGEL DUST .

for me, he may get jealous depending on who's hitting on you; if it’s some random imp, it won’t really bother him; he will just tell them to fuck off themselves and leave you alone, but if it’s someone like valentino, oh boy, he acts VERY different.

angel dust didn’t really like you being in the porn studios were he works, because he knows that valentino is waiting to say anything to you, and because he simply thinks you don’t belong in a place like that. he thinks you’re much better working at the hazbin hotel or wandering around the pride ring.

"(name), aren’t you a supportive one? you know that if you want, i could make you a star lik-" "val, we're on set soon" angel dust spoke, looking angrily at valentino. "well, looks like your little boyfriend doesn’t want me to talk to you; i’m sure we’ll have plenty of time the next time," valentino whispered, making you stand there awkwardly.

as you both were finally at the hazbin hotel, anthony asked you not to come next time, since he really didn’t want valentino talking to you ever again. "(name), you know i really don’t want to get you in trouble, and you know that outside of the studio we can do whatever the fuck we want, but still, thanks for the snack you brought." he said, smirking, and letting you cuddle into his arms like you always do after an exhausting day.

⋆.ೃ- HUSK .

husk would only get jealous or, well, mostly, frustrated if someone interrupted you both, like if you both are just having a wholesome moment and someone just steals your attention from him, he’s a cat after all AND will be grumpy afterward.

you were having a nice chat with husk while having a drink at his bar, but as he was explaining you something, alastor came along and asked you something between the lines of 'if you had seen charlie or vaggie' since he had to talk to them about some business about the hazbin hotel.

after alastor left, you turned to look at your partner, noticing how he had been growling this entire time. it wasn’t really loud, though. "tsk, that radio demon really needed to ruin the atmosphere," he said, making you give him a look "what? you know, i dislike the idea of him thinking that he can just do whatever he pleases with my stuff." hearing your partner's words, you knew you had to reassure him that even though alastor had interrupted you both, your attention was still set on him and no one else.

⋆.ೃ- VALENTINO .

he’s valentino, he surely and kind of obviously gets jealous whenever you’re talking to someone that isn’t him.

the workers in the studio know that since you worked there, you've only filmed with valentino; nobody questions why, and nobody really cares whatever reason their boss has to not let you fuck with others.

today, though, a worker intended to jokingly flirt with you. "(name), i think that if we make a video together, even the most pure souls would want to watch it" oh, well, that wasn’t even a little funny to valentino.

"such a slut for me, mmh? you really thought my sweet (name) would even think about fucking with you?" valentino smirked, while thrusting into you. he had his eyes set on the demon who flirted with you, not even caring about the fact that he was on set.

⋆.ೃ- VOX .

this man has the same jealousy problems, or even worse, than valentino. he's actually such an attention whore, so he obviously would despise everyone who tries to flirt with you.

actually everyone who works for the vees knows how jealous vox is, and that’s because this is a situation that often happens: if someone is even looking at you a little longer than usual, he will become insecure and try ANYTHING he can so he can have your attention on him. like i mentioned, he’s an attention whore.

today, the outfit that velvette chose for you might have made some people stare back at you. i mean he can’t judge them; you looked so fucking good in it, but hell does he want to have you all by himself, so what does he does? take you to his office so he can have you all by himself.

"(name)," he mutters while keeping his hands all over your body. "you knew what you were doing, huh? making everyone stare at your body, but i’m such a good partner for not making a fuss about it, right?" he asked, waiting for you to atleast praise him, 'cause like a already mentioned he’s an attention wh- lmao.

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!yoongi (7) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist

note: yoongi and oc have the what r we talk,, have a few awh moments,, and r jus so cute... anyways,, my apologies as i'll be fixing my taglist next week ,, too busy n just trying to push out content lol !!! also PLEASE BE SURE TO LEAVE UR @ IN THE COMMENT BOX FOR SPECIFIC FIC TAGLIST STUFF (in the taglist form)

EDIT: mochi < injeolmi

//

as yoongi stands outside your door with a plastic bag swinging in one hand—all he can really think about is how amused he is from the 2AM craving text.

he takes a breath, raises his hand to knock, but the door opens before he can and there you stand with puffy cheeks streaked with the telltale signs of crying. 

his smile drops instantly.

“hey,” yoongi’s voice softens, concern etching into his features. “___, what happened? w-why are you crying?”

you try to muster a smile but fail. your lips tremble as you glance at the bag in his hand. letting out a shaky laugh, you wipe your face and take a deep breath in. 

“i don’t even really want pickles and peanut butter,” you admit. “i just… it’s… this isn’t about a pregnancy craving, yoongi.” 

yoongi’s brows knit together and he steps forward. closing the space between you two, suddenly you feel a rush of guilt. 

“okay, then what is it about?” his voice is gentle. he places the bag on the floor so he can rest a hand on your arm, grounding and reassuring. "everything okay? you okay?"

you looks up at him, eyes glassy and full of a vulnerability. 

“i just…” you take another breath, steadying yourself. “i didn’t know how to tell you i wanted you here. just you. no excuses, no weird cravings.”

yoongi’s eyes widen, confusion and something else flashing across his face.

“wait—you could’ve just asked me to come over. i would’ve dropped everything to be here. you know that, right?”

a tear slips down your cheek. shaking your head, a sad smile forms. 

“yeah. we’re friends, yoongi, but we’re not friends.” you say, emphasizing the word. a pang of bitterness lingers. “we’re not close like that. i guess i’m just freaking out because as much as i want this—fuck, i want this so bad… i’m upset that i’m having a baby with someone i can’t even ask to come over without making up an excuse. does that make sense?”

yoongi’s heart clenches. 

he’s struck speechless for a moment. then he sighs and runs his hand through his hair. 

“i get it,” he says quietly. his hand still rests on your arm. he squeezes it lightly. “can i come in? let’s talk about this please.”

you nod and move aside for him. 

yoongi steps into your apartment, closing the door softly behind him.

he heads to the kitchen, methodically placing the jars of pickles and peanut butter on the counter. his movements are slower than usual as the weight of the moment settles in. 

when he turns, he watches you retreat toward your bedroom and for a second—confusion prickles at the back of his mind. 

why aren’t we sitting in the living room? he wonders. 

he’s never been inside your bedroom before. 

… but he follows you anyway, trailing behind you like a shadow.

the room feels more intimate than he expected.

the walls holding a quiet familiarity, but also the tension of something unspoken. you two stand there for a beat, the silence stretching until you blurt out;

“s-sorry. uh, the couch makes my back hurt if i sit there too long. i’m more comfortable in here. is that okay?” 

yoongi takes in your words, a small pang of concern for her comfort, and nods, his usual nonchalance cracking just a bit. 

then, you both settle on the bed.

the awkwardness between you two is palpable. yoongi braces himself for the conversation they both know is coming, hoping the closeness will bridge the distance they’ve been struggling to cross.

“are you regretting this?” you ask, voice quiet and afraid. 

yoongi shakes his head instantly. 

“no. i’m not,” he answers. “are you?”

you also shake your head. 

“no… but, i do wish i thought it through more.” 

he titls his head. “specifically about what? about me?”

you bite bottom lip, trying to find the words to explain how you feel about him. how you feel about everything between you two…

and it’s hard.

it’s difficult because you never had to think twice about yoongi and your friendship.

friends. 

until sometimes, when you two are alone.. it’s friends. 

“let’s be honest,” yoongi begins, cutting your thoughts short. “we’ve always had this weird… in-between thing. but if you need me, you don’t have to make excuses. i’m already here, aren't i? and i’m committed to the baby—our baby. to you, even… so, tell me where your headspace is at. i’ll match it. i’ll place myself in between where you need me and where i want to be for you. you just have to tell me what you want, ___.”

you look at him, eyes searching his for something… then, yoongi continues, his voice sincere and steady.

“we’re about to have a child together, yeah, but more than that… i care about you. always have. so, please don’t think that you have to put up walls or hide what you need from me, okay? i want to see through it. i want to see through you.”

you take a breath, relief washing over her as you nod. 

“okay.” 

and in that small word, a bridge starts to form between them—something real and raw and hopeful.

you and yoongi have never been close. 

there has never been a moment where you were in trouble and thought to yourself; shit i need yoongi’s help.

no. 

there was always hyemi, nam joon, jin, hoseok, jimin, taehyung and jungkook before yoongi. not that you liked him the least—if anything; considering the current happenings—maybe you like him the most. but besides that, you two are truly just decent friends. 

everyone in the friendgroup is. 

you laugh at the same jokes, make fun of nam joon when he says something ridiculous, and have each other’s backs when needed—but that’s it. 

or at least it should be.

again, until you’re alone together... then, it’s different. 

there’s this undercurrent.

something unspoken that takes all makes it hard to breathe. it’s the way he leans in when he’s talking to you. it’s the subtle touches he probably doesn’t think about… all these vague flirting moments leave you second-guessing… but you know what is it. you know who he is. 

and that’s what’s confusing. 

in the midst of this in-between—you don’t know how to word what he makes you feel. 

safe?

nervous?

loved?

and now with the baby; it should be more complicated. everything in your life feels more complicated but somehow; what you are—or what you aren’t—hasn’t changed at all. 

you’re still friends.

friends. 

“can we talk about this?” you speak out. “like first… what are we?”

yoongi’s eyes widen. 

he wasn’t ready for this question, but he also doesn’t hate it. he’s been wanting to know too. he’s been thinking about it too. 

“what do you want us to be?” 

you gulp, not knowing if he’ll like the answer you’re about to give. 

“friends,” you tell him. “is that ridiculous?”

yoongi shrugs. “only if you make it to be.”

“it’s just… i feel like i need to get to know you more. i didn’t even save your number in my phone until last year. we’ve been friends for over 3 years, yoongi… also, i don’t know your favourite colour. i don’t know your birthdate because i always confuse it with hobi’s… yours is in february, right?”

“march.”

you throw your head back, letting out a sharp and loud hiss. 

“fuck—s-see what i mean?” you take a breath and regulate. then, you reach for his hand and squeeze it. “i’m sorry. we’ve been decent friends but truth be told sometimes i feel like a stranger to you. i didn’t think this through—”

“it’s fine,” yoongi says, patting your back. “we’re not complete strangers. you know things about me, ___. don’t act like you don’t just because you’re scared. and, you know what? we can get to know each other more as the pregnancy goes on. besides, once the baby comes out—you’re stuck with me for life. i mean, it’s our baby.”

your lips curve into a small smile. 

“is our baby gonna have two cribs?” you blurt. “hyemi made a passing comment and for some reason i keep picturing it. two cribs.. two sets of clothes.. two homes.. two car seats—”

“one then,” yoongi simplifies it for you. “move in with me or i move in with you.”

you blink at him. 

“...hear me out,” yoongi says, voice calm but his eyes serious, holding yours as if he’s trying to make sure every word sticks. “we already spend so much time together—in our friendgroup setting at least… and i know it won’t be perfect. we’ll annoy each other, i’m sure, but it’ll be easier. for both of us. we won’t have to juggle back and forth or worry about where the baby should be or whose place has what.”

you swallow. 

the image of two cribs still lingering in your mind, mixing with the new picture he’s painting—one home, one set of everything, a shared life that feels both thrilling and terrifying. 

“yoongi…” you start, your voice wavering. “it’s not just about convenience. moving in together means… a lot. and what if we make things harder? what if it complicates everything more than it should?”

he nods, understanding the hesitation even as he inches a little closer, his presence grounding you. 

“i get that,” he says. “but we’ve already made things complicated, haven’t we?” his lips curve into a small, almost hopeful smile. “this way, at least, we’ll be complicated together. and if it doesn’t work, we’ll figure it out, for the baby’s sake. we owe it to them—and to ourselves—to at least try.”

you want to say yes.

to fall into this idea of a shared space, of yoongi always being just a few steps away, but the weight of uncertainty keeps you frozen. 

“i don’t know,” you murmur, dropping your gaze to your hands. “it’s a big step… and i’m scared of what it could mean… for us.”

yoongi reaches over, his fingers brushing lightly against yours. 

“i’m scared too,” he admits softly. “but i’d rather try and fail than not try at all. just… think about it, okay? no pressure. maybe a timer though. baby is coming soon.”

you finally look up, meeting his eyes, the sincerity there chipping away at your worries. a small, reluctant smile tugs at your lips. 

“hahaha… okay. yeah, i’ll think about it,” you promise, and the room feels a little lighter, hope lingering between you both. "... what if we buy baby things and leave it at yours? i think... i do want to move in with you. i think your points make sense and honestly? i've been thinking about us a lot... let's just do it slowly, okay?"

yoongi leans back slightly, studying your expression before he continues. 

“okay, if we’re doing this, I want to do it right,” he says, the seriousness of his tone making you focus. “since we're confessing.. truth be told, i’ve been struggling with this entire thing too. ___, i don’t want to be the dad who just shows up when it’s convenient or only takes half the responsibility. until we figure out the whole moving-in thing… i need you to keep me in the loop. not even the loop—in it. everything, okay? every appointment, every little thing the doctor says. even if it’s something silly, like craving pickles at 2 in the morning, call me. i want to be here. i meant it when i said i need you to figure out how to need me.” 

you nod slowly, his words settling into your chest. the way he’s looking at you—it’s like he’s already preparing himself for every moment he might miss if you don’t.

“and i'm serious about appointments,” yoongi adds, his voice softening just a little, the corners of his lips turning up in a small smile. “i want to know every detail. hear the heartbeat, see the ultrasounds, even if it means i have to reschedule work. screw it, honestly. you and baby are my priority… i’m gonna do everything to make you know that you deserve to feel like we’re doing this together.”

a lump forms in your throat, and you swallow, feeling the weight of his commitment. 

“you really mean that,” you say quietly, more to yourself than him. “yoongi…”

“of course, i do.” he pauses, his eyes holding yours with that steady, unwavering calm. “we might not be close, but this baby deserves two parents who are trying their best. and maybe…” he hesitates, his voice dropping lower. “maybe this will help us become more than just friends who share stolen glances. more than whatever weird, in-between thing we have.”

a beat.

“shit, do we have to talk about that now?”

he laughs. 

“no,” he shrugs. “i’m not in a rush. i’m cool with taking things slow. i have a lifetime with you anyway. also have a feeling you'll be moved in with me in a week or two.”

you roll your eyes and he chuckles.

then, you’re silent for a moment, processing the vulnerability he’s showing, the way he’s extending himself for both you and the baby. 

“okay,” you finally say. “i’ll call more. i’ll update you on everything. breakfast and prenatals and all.”

yoongi snickers at you. “... and when we’re finally living together… we’ll figure out a routine that works for both of us. we’ll make it as easy as possible… for all three of us.”

before you know it, you launch yourself at him.

you wrap your arms around his neck and he wraps his around your torso, returning the hug without hesitations. for a moment, it feels safe, like he’s anchoring you to something solid amidst all the uncertainty.

when you pull away, you glance up at him, nerves tightening in your chest. 

“can you… stay the night?” you ask, your voice softer than you mean it to be. “i guess that’s what i meant with the pickles and peanut butter.”

yoongi snorts at you. 

“i knew it.”

he earns a hit to his chest, but he takes it like a champ. even though he’s teasing you, there’s something so reassuring in the way he says it. 

“i'm already in my pajamas... i’ll just use the bathroom real quick. be right back.”

as yoongi makes his way to the bathroom, he flicks on the light and notices the little details of your life scattered around the sink. toothpaste, skincare products, and…

a blue toothbrush placed neatly next to yours. 

his heart stumbles at the sight, realization washing over him. 

it’s for him. 

you had thought about him even in the smallest of ways, planning for him to be here.

what the fuck is his heart supposed to do with this?

it tugs.

it skips a beat.

it races.

it falls for you a little more.

when he returns to your bedroom, he finds you already lying in bed, looking smaller and more vulnerable under the soft glow of the bedside lamp. he hesitates, unsure of how to fit into this space with you. the silence stretches awkwardly between you both as he slips under the covers.

neither of you knows quite how to lie together. 

you both fidget, trying not to make it more awkward, until you shift uncomfortably, a small wince escaping your lips. 

“ugh,” you mumble, “my back hurts.”

yoongi is at your side instantly. his nonchalant demeanor slipping away as he sits up. 

“here, let me help,” he murmurs, carefully guiding you to reposition. his hands are gentle but firm as he encourages you to lie partially against him, your body leaning into his. he wraps his arms around your belly, cradling you and the baby, and nuzzles his face into the curve of your neck. the warmth of his breath sends a small shiver down your spine, but it melts away as you sink into his embrace.

you both stay still, letting the comfort settle in. slowly, the awkwardness ebbs, replaced by a sense of calm as you relax against him.

just as you’re on the edge of sleep, you murmur something faintly. 

“yoongi?”

“mhmm?

“injeolmi...” you whisper.

yoongi stirs, confused. 

“huh?” he whispers back, trying not to disturb you too much. “are you craving injeolmi? i’ll get you some tomorrow–”

you smile sleepily, eyes already closed. 

“no.. our baby looks like injeolmi,” you explain, your words trailing off into drowsiness. “the ultrasound… injeolmi. let’s call our baby injeolmi for now.”

yoongi heart squeezes at the endearing name, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

“injeolmi,” he repeats, pressing a soft kiss into your hair. “okay. baby injeolmi it is.”

wrapped in each other’s warmth, you both drift off, with yoongi holding you close. all he thinks about before falling asleep is;

baby injeolmi, you are so loved.

[sinsirellaxx]

Man I love your toxic Slytherin boys writings (I reread them as my bedtime stories every night since I found your account 🤭) but knowing my personality and temper, there's no way I would let their toxicity slide 😩🫸

Pls pls pls pretty pls will you write where we put them in their place and have them grovel and trail after us like a lost puppy? 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

Slytherin Boys – What they’ re like if you put them in their place

Warning: Toxic Slytherin boys 😌

A/N: Thank you so much! That is very sweet of you – hope you always have sweet dreams! 🤭 Honestly, same – I love a good temper! Hope you like what I have come up with! And sorry that some are a bit shorter than the rest! If you want a part two (for the groveling and trailing part) let me know! (I didn't include this here and I only noticed that it was part of the request now – so, sorry about that)

On another note: I've added Tom Riddle to the boys and will be doing so from now on! Comments are appreciated!

Mattheo …

… is shocked. He was used to always getting away with things, given the status he had attained through his family name – and his own actions. In his past relationships (or situationships) he had his girls practically kiss his feet and were ready to do everything for him and to him. But here you were, his first real relationship and apparently the boon and bane of his existence. You were getting ready for the party in your common room and had chosen a rather risky black skin-tight dress for that evening. Mattheo usually never cared about what his dates or girls wore – actually, he loved them to wear revealing clothes because he wanted to show off. But with you, he hated the idea of other people staring at you. He’d walked into your dorm room before the party – also something he had never done before – and immediately shook his head upon seeing your dress. “Absolutely not.”

You turned to look at him in confusion, closing the lip gloss you had just applied before putting it back into your make-up bag.

“You can’t wear that. The dress is way too short and – just no.” Mattheo glared as he looked you up and down. “I don’t want anyone to stare at you with like that. You’re mine –“

You scoffed loudly, fully erupting into a laugh as you stared at him with raised brows.

The frown on Mattheo’s face deepened as you walked up to him, placing your hand on his cheek as you slowly shook your head. It’s sweet you think you can tell me what to wear – because you can’t. You spoke smirking at him. And I’m not yours.So please get that silly idea out of your head. You can’t tell me what to do. You tapped his cheek slightly before walking towards your door, leaving Mattheo no time to react. The door closed behind you leaving him to brood in silence as he breathed through his nose, his hands clenched at his sides.

Well fuck.

Theodore …

… is kind of pissed but also kind of turned on. He can’t decide which feeling is stronger. You two have been fighting over you refusing to always tell him where you’re going and with whom. If he had asked nicely, you probably would have told him. But Theodore had been rude and controlling about it.

“You can’t just go wherever you want without telling me first. I need to know where you are and with whom you are.” The tall male demanded as he had you pressed against the door to your dorm room. He had waited for your arrival at the top of the stairs because he wanted to talk to you. You had ignored all his calls and messages, and he was livid with you – how dare you not answer him?

Upon seeing him you had rushed past him, with the hopes of closing the door to your room right in his face but he was quicker than you had expected.

You rolled your eyes for the umpteenth time, obviously annoyed by his antics.

Fuck off. Get off my fucking dick, Nott.

Theo smirked, he loved when you got bratty. “No, but you can jump on mine.” He whispered against your ear as he opened the door to your room and pushed you inside.

Lorenzo …

… is speechless. Lorenzo Berkshire is known to have many girl friends falling for his prince-like appearance. He enjoys the attention and loves to feed his ego. It was something that you had to get used to when you agreed to be with him, but you eventually found your peace with it. You were sitting on Enzo’s bed with your phone in your hands, typing away and smiling at the screen.

Lorenzo noticed your smile and raised his brow as he watched your fingers move quickly. If not for the typing, he would have thought you were watching cute animal videos, but he was sure you were chatting with someone. He couldn’t help but ask, “Who are you texting?”

You didn’t answer at first, your fingers still moving until you finished your last message. As you clicked ‘send’ you lifted your head to look at your boyfriend. You told Enzo you were talking with your seat-neighbor about something funny that had happened in divination that day.

“Oh, is it Granger?” He added, growing slightly nervous because you left out the most important detail. Who was it, that made you smile like that at your screen? Lorenzo was known for being – well he tried to be – patient with you. He loved you after all. He had managed to be in almost every single class you had – except for divination. Ever since the beginning of the term he’d been thinking about it: Who were you sitting with? Were there many boys? Would you talk to any of them?

You finally answered him: Harry Potter. Enzo felt this weird warmth spread through his whole body as his heart started beating incredibly fast, his hands unconsciously balling up into fists to prevent them from trembling.

“You are friends with Potter?” He spat, putting special emphasis on the Chosen One’s name. Oh, how he hated that boy. You just nodded; your phone vibrated in your lap. Lorenzo ripped the phone out of your hand before you even managed to unlock the screen. “I don’t want you to talk to him. Block him.”

You just rolled your eyes at him and demanded him to give you your phone back.

“No.” He shook his head and stood up from the bed, already typing in your code he had managed to figure out from staring at your screen whenever you unlocked it.

“I don’t want you to have any male friends – am I not enough for you?” His voice raised a notch as he held you at arm’s length with his left hand while trying to open the messenger app with his right one. He clicked on the chat with ‘Harry’ and read through the messages, scoffing as he saw just how much you have been chatting with him. His face contorting in anger as he reread the messages from last night.

“You’re planning on going to Hogsmeade with him?!”

“Fuck, no.” He exclaimed loudly, rolling his eyes when you had finally managed to get your phone back before he could send whatever message he had typed in.

“You won’t go.” Lorenzo added with finality, glaring at you in hopes of intimidating you into submission.

He expected you to cry and get insecure, but he did not expect you to scoff at him, hands on your hips as you told him he couldn’t tell you what to do. You quickly grabbed your things and left the room not bothering to close the door after you. He could do that himself.

Lorenzo was too stunned to speak.

Draco …

… (almost) has a panic attack. Remember that scene in the bathroom in the sixth movie, where Harry finds him? Yeah – that kind of panic attack. You had just told him to leave you alone until he got his head out of his ass because he had threatened to break up with you if you didn’t break off your friendship with the golden trio. Draco would not have expected you to walk out on him – he usually always got what he wanted, and this turn of events completely threw him off. He gripped the front of his shirt as he gasped for air, the other hand combing through his hair as he paced through his room.

Rushing into the bathroom he splashed his face with cold water as nothing else seemed to help. When he finally lifted his head to look at his reflection in the mirror he had to accept the truth: He apparently needed you more than you needed him.

He would have to win you back. Even if he had to beg.

Blaise …

… would think you were joking when you told him you didn’t need him to protect you.

You were fuming as you pushed Blaise’s hands off, telling him that what he had done was completely wrong and uncalled for.

“Why are you mad?  I just protected you, doll. I saw the way he looked at you.” Blaise tried to reason with you. He couldn’t just sit still when another boy tried getting closer to you. Over his dead body. But you didn’t seem to agree with him as you shook your head in disbelief. “I didn’t push him away for no reason, did I?” He sighed, growing impatient with you as told him that there had been no reason to hurt the other boy. “Babe, I did it for you, you know?” And that was the last straw for you as you yelled at him to leave you alone. You are suffocating me, Blaise. This is over – we are over!

Blaise knew then that he had overstepped your boundaries. Again. He should have run after you and begged for your forgiveness right away. But he also knew that you probably would need some time to cool down. You’d be back in his arms soon, he was sure of it.

Tom Riddle ...

... would let you have your moment. Tom had been bored nowadays and he was actually intrigued to know how far you'd go and what you'd do exactly.

Tom is known to be an intimidating and bossy persona – he is the born leader one could say. Seeing as he is the oldest son of the Dark Lord that came as no surprise to anyone. Everyone had high expectations of him so he projected all that pressure onto you: You had to be perfect. Not what you deemed as perfect but what he thought was perfection. At first you let him control you, blinded by love and the attraction you felt for him. But after months of dating, and his demands getting increasingly more suffocating you have had enough.

Your complaints and worries, however, were met by indifference. Tom did not care. "What do you expect me to say?" He spoke lowly as he looked up at you from where he was sat on his bed.

You just blinked at him dumbfoundedly not sure what outcome you had expected.

"You knew what you were getting into, when I asked you to be my girlfriend." Tom tilted his head as he leaned back on his arms. "Now, if you have anything else to add to this ... very productive conversation, please, go ahead. If not, get on your knees."

There it was again. The hurt and the humiliation. He only wanted one thing and nothing else. But this time, you wouldn't let yourself be manipulated. This time, you told him to go fuck himself before storming out of his room.

[casualhedonists]

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter three)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

chapter: 3/? (MASTERLIST)

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, power play, oral sex, thigh riding, degradation, dirty talk, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here (and pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

taglist: if you’d like to be tagged, leave a comment on the masterlist post and i’ll add you! 💌

a/n: thank you for your patience and condolences / kind messages over the past week i’ve been awol. i’m very happy to be back. very long, filthy and much awaited chapter ahead, so strap in and hope you enjoy the ride.

in the words of miss zegler herself: oh we are so back.

You weren’t sure how long he stared at you, smiling with a fire in his eyes that rivalled yours until it was eclipsed. A third and final time, you found yourself speechless, dumbstruck, and one final time, much like the others, you took a few shaky steps backwards, before turning and fleeing.

He knew. He’d known this whole time. How long had he been planning this? Exactly how much of this had been an act, with Snow puppeteering you as you slowly lost your mind?

You almost felt pity for the girl, because she was played just like you were. She was a mere pawn in his game of chess, where he’d toyed with you until you were backed into a corner, unable to make a move.

Well, not this time. Now you knew what he was playing, you were ready to up your game. This wouldn’t be another stalemate; you wanted to win, and you had a few ideas of where to start.

You were already up and dressed when you heard a knock at your door the next morning.

Dreading the worst – despite the fact that Snow had never actually been in your room before, but the rules had changed now and you weren’t sure quite how much – you paused for a second to prepare yourself, praying that he wouldn’t be there, ready to put a stop to your plans before they’d even started.

You fell lucky. It was one of Snow’s footmen, George.

“Good morning, ma’am. I, um.” He swallowed, not meeting your eye. “I have a message from Master Snow. He’d like for you to meet him for breakfast in a half hour, if you will. He says you have something… quite important to discuss.”

Typical Snow. Never liked to get his hands dirty. Too proud to knock at your door himself.

You considered.

“George, could you please tell Coriolanus that if I’ve already eaten, and that I’ll come to him when I see fit. If he isn’t satisfied,” you added, for his sake, as you knew Snow wasn’t above killing the messenger, “Say I have an urgent matter to tend to, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

You grew a lump in your throat from your refusal, fearing the consequences. But you’d set your plan into motion now and there was no going back. Once George had been sent on his way, you snuck down the stairs on the far end of the building and slipped out the door through the servants’ quarters, where you knew Snow wouldn’t see you leave. The one upside to the last few weeks was that you’d learned how to sneak around the manor unnoticed. You were certain there were at least three hallways he’d had never even set foot in.

You had Lucille call Henry – Snow’s driver – in advance so you could leave right away.

“Where are we going, ma’am?” He glanced at you over his shoulder as you slid into the black town car.

“Head into the city. I’ll explain on the way.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Henry took some convincing – and some light bribing – to finally cave and tell you what and where this gentleman’s club was. Of course, it was a risk, a roll of the dice to go there without concrete proof, but you knew Snow. You knew his little neuroses and hang-ups, and he was paranoid; in all senses, it would seem, except when it came to you. If he’d been frequenting this club for some time – some years, according to Henry – and trusted their discretion, then you highly doubted he’d play Russian roulette and pick somewhere else.

You were dropped off outside, and sent Henry to the tailor to pick up some of Snow’s things; an excuse for the outing, but a part of your plan too. He was hesitant to leave you alone in such a place, but you insisted you knew exactly how to handle yourself, and so he gave in.

You’d deliberately dressed down for what you were about to do, worn your old coat and let your hair down with a hood pulled over it. It being daytime, the place was closed for business, but you knocked on the front door expectantly.

You waited. Went over the plan, and knocked again.

This time, the door opened and a burly man now stood between you and the inside of the brothel. Your curiosity made peek over his shoulder before he cleared his throat.

“Can I help you, miss?”

“Yes. My name is Margaret, sir, I’m a maid at the, uh,” You dropped your voice to a low whisper, “Snow household. I have a message for the owner of this establishment, from my master. Is he here?”

The man cleared his throat and glanced around the nearly empty street, then beckoned you in quickly.

“Anything for Mr Snow, miss. Right this way.”

There was your proof.

The empty club was a classy one, you had to give Snow that. The bar caught your eye, silver panels lining the wall behind it in an otherwise jet-black glossy room, with dark red couches and shiny tables, booths, single chairs, a stage with shiny metal poles, and a few cordoned-off alcoves.

You took it all in, certain you’d be able to appreciate the aesthetics of it more if it wasn’t for the seething rage inside you. You were stopped at a closed door near the back, and the burly man knocked.

“Yeah.” Came a voice from inside.

“All yours. He’ll take care of you.” Your guide stepped away. You pushed at the door.

A dark-haired man sat facing a desk, poring over paperwork. He didn’t look up.

“If you’re here for a job, sweetie, it’s Tuesday after 11.”

This incensed you.

“I’m not here for work. This is official business. I was told you take care of… special clients.”

He spun around, frowning.

“I’m listening.”

“I have a message from President Snow. He has a series of requests to be carried out with no delay.”

“Ah, yes. Mr Snow. I see. And you are to him?” He prompted.

“Just a maid from the household. He sent me as a messenger.”

“Excellent. Well in that case, of course, miss. How can I be of service?”

You took a breath, hoping desperately that he didn’t see right through you.

“Firstly, the shoes your girl wore.”

“What would he like with them?” He asked.

“He’d like to keep them. He’s willing to pay, and he’s not up for a price negotiation. This should cover them.” You slipped a bill across the table, and he nodded. You learned long ago that money causes loose lips, and this man was no exception.

“Of course,” he obliged, “They’re in the lockers through that door there. I’ll bring them to you. We ordered them in specially for Veronica, he made a point for her to wear them on the first floor. Usually our girls get instructions to sneak through clients’ houses quietly, but we handle every request as thoroughly as possible.” He chuckled.

That fucker. He really had planned it all out to get in your head.

“Was there anything else I can do for you, miss?”

You swallowed thickly.

Here goes.  

“Yes, actually. As of today, he’ll no longer be needing your services, or her services. He’d like to terminate your contract, and he doesn’t wish to see her again. Ever.”

The owner blinked. His mouth moved, as if he was about to say something, but then it closed again.

“But, um,” he stammered, “It’s only been three weeks. Veronica is our best girl, and he’s her top client. She carried out his orders to the absolute best of her ability, I can assure you. Are you sure those were his words?”

You sighed.

“She’s getting off lucky with a dismissal. Take it as a warning, sir. President Snow doesn’t show mercy to thieves. If she shows her face again, I can guarantee you, he’ll have her head.”

His face turned plum-red with horror.

“She was… stealing?”

In a way, yes.

“She was caught by a maid last night.” You nodded, and the owner swallowed thickly.

“I – I understand, Miss. I am terribly sorry for this. I apologise that our services weren’t up to your master’s expectations, truly. Please, if there’s anything I can do- and I can assure you, I’ll be having some very stern words-”

You cut him off.

“There is one more thing, as a matter of fact."

"Anything." He pleaded.

"You can send word that… Veronica, is it? She’ll be paying him a visit this evening. But you are not, under any circumstances, to send her. Am I understood?”

He furrowed his brows, puzzled. But you stared back challengingly and held your ground.

A small, sheepish smile formed on his face.

“Much obliged. I can assure you your requests will be carried out with the utmost discretion.”

“Thank you.”

He brought you the heels in a shiny box, and you turned and left.

Henry was waiting outside, and you slid back into the car.

“Get what you needed, ma’am?”

“I certainly did.”

The drive home was your chance to pick up lunch, finetune your plan, and go through the suits you’d had Henry pick up from the tailor.

They looked impeccable – crisp and creaseless, the white shirts brighter than the stars, and the maroon red jackets and waistcoats deeper than blood itself. It was one of these jackets that you chose to take upstairs with you, leaving the rest to be taken up to Snow’s room later, hoping the missing item would go unnoticed.

You retraced your way up the winding stairs of the manor. Luckily, Lucille had informed you Snow had left not long after you that morning, and was expected to be gone until evening. Nonetheless, your paranoia made you glance left, right and left again before every turn. Finally, after an exhaustingly long morning, you were back in the safety of your own room.

But the work was far from finished. You ate quickly, then began getting ready for your discussion with Snow. He hadn’t sent for you again; he was too proud. You took pride in knowing he’d be positively seething at your turning him down that morning. You kept going, showering, teasing your hair, adding a little more makeup than usual – not excessive, but enough to make a difference – then finally wandered the room as you picked your wardrobe for later.

You lay out the heels – which were a little big on you, but would serve their purpose – as well as the jacket you’d stolen, taking the time to run your fingers over the smooth maroon velvet you’d felt only briefly before, when brushing against Snow at public events. You then dug through your underwear drawer, debating between a red lingerie set and a white. You picked the latter; the tones of red would blend in with the jacket and white made more of a statement.

Innocence. If only.

You checked the time. Three hours or so until Coriolanus would be expecting Veronica. You hoped that he would be back by then, and more so, that your performance with the brothel owner had been enough to hold him to his promise of sending word. But if you’d learnt anything from Snow, it was that fear commanded respect, and better yet, obedience. So your doubts were few and far between.

In all honesty, that’s what had drawn you to Snow in the first place. It wasn’t about money; your family had money, more than they knew what to do with. It was the power, the fear. Even the richest man in the world would crumble to the ground with a gun to his head. Power trumps wealth every time, and the enigmatic, newly elected President was by far the most powerful man in Panem.

It was its own kind of thrill, pursuing a man like that. The temptation to get him wrapped around your fingers, ravenous, hungry for power, hungry for him. It all blurred together at this point, the man was like a magnet. You wondered if this thirst for more, always more, was an affliction the two of you shared. Or perhaps, an affliction you’d developed a taste for because of him. And the longer you spent at his side, the louder it began to beat in your chest like a second heart. You wanted to consume it, and let it consume you.

It thrummed in your chest now, adrenaline coursing in your veins. You fidgeted as you waited for the hours to pass, your craving growing with each second. You flicked through a few books; you drafted a letter to your mother. Each tick of the clock bringing you closer to finally taking the one thing you’d wanted since the day you met Coriolanus Snow. It was almost time for your big move.

✩✩✩✩

As enough darkness crept into your room and you stood to light some candles, you heard soft footsteps pass your door.

For a change, you recognised them as Snow’s, even and deliberate. He was home. With half an hour to spare until he’d be expecting his whore.

You jumped at the opportunity to change. Slowly and carefully, you slipped out of your clothes and into the underwear set, until you were clad in crisp white lace, with a matching garter belt as a finishing touch. You slid on Snow’s jacket – which smelled like him, of his cologne – the usual fitted shape it would give Snow now hanging loose and slack around your body, falling to the tops of your thighs. You did up the first button, tracing the neckline that plunged down your chest, leaving very little to the imagination. You slipped into the heels, checked the time, and after scanning yourself over in the mirror, made for the door.

The few worries you had about being seen by the staff were short-lived; the hallway lights were dim as you wobbled in the heels, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. You weren’t sure if Snow had fallen for your plan, but what mattered was that as you turned the corner, there were lights shining from under his bedroom door. He was in there, waiting. By now, it was odd seeing it closed. You tried your best to emulate the sound of the footsteps you’d drilled into your brain, the clicks giving you a sense of power knowing Snow – apprehensive or not – would be in for at least one surprise.

Click. Click. Click.

You considered pausing before barging in, but you didn’t. When you reached the end of the hallway, seconds away from your fate, you reached out a hand, pushed Snow’s door open, and walked right inside.

Snow was there; of course he was. Facing his dresser and away from you, he didn’t flinch at the sound of your arrival. You closed the door behind you, and took a step towards him. Stared at his back, scanning his black dress pants and the white shirt he’d rolled up to his elbows, cufflinks on the table, blonde curls a little unruly as he smoothly poured himself a drink.

This, right here, was where the solid part of your plan ended. It was caution to the wind from here on out, and you could practically taste it, high off the adrenaline; off his presence. And he hadn’t even looked at you yet.

This was the moment of truth.

“Well,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “Look who finally figured it out.”

“Not who you were expecting?”

“She’d never reschedule.” he said simply, turning on his heels, eyes glinting at you. “Figured you were up to something. Drink?”

“Think I’ll pass.”

He approached you, eyes scanning your body, deliberately clad in the skimpiest underwear you owned. You figured this was as good a time as any to unbutton the jacket and let it fall open. It brushed your sides, and you watched him lower his glance, hungrily taking you in for what could quite possibly be the very first time. He wet his lips, took another sip.

There it is.

There was that power you craved, that look that you’d been aching to see in his eyes while he stared at you, and although it was fucked up, you let the pride fill your head with confidence, and stepped forward.

“Now, just where did you get that?” A slight narrowing of his eyes gave him away. At least something you’d done had made an impression.

“Borrowed it. In case I get cold.” You smiled.

“Cute. Didn’t your daddy ever tell you not to take things that aren’t yours?”

“Oh, I take whatever I want, Snow.”

You raised your head in defiance. Proud of your voice for not faltering once.

“Clearly. Nice shoes. Borrow those, too?”

“Why, do they look familiar?” you quipped.

“I think we both know the answer to that, doll. Now why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

You sighed, feigning exasperation. A chill crept up your legs but you barely noticed.

“You wanted to talk to me, Coriolanus. Talk.”

“Is that really what you came here for, sweetheart? Dressed like that?” He put his drink down on the dresser, not once looking away from you.

“If this is what it takes to get your attention, Snow, then yes.”

You took another step closer, and the jacket fell further to your sides, more skin slipping out from underneath for him to feast his eyes on.

“I think you know plenty about trying to get my attention. I watched you struggle for weeks.”

“Didn’t think you cared.” You muttered.

He laughed, low, more like a scoff.

“What, your childish attempts at seduction? They were pitiful at best. I’d expect that kind of behaviour from a common whore, not a lady of your standing.”

“Thought you liked whores.” You retorted.

“They’re no fun to live with. And there you were, proving my point.”

Your eyes narrowed, and when you spoke, it was through gritted teeth.

“So what, you had to go and fuck one to prove a point? Mature.”

“Mature?” he glowered, then before you could think, he stormed towards you, grabbing both of your wrists with a hard squeeze. You gasped.

“Mature like you, with your short skirts and your fuck-me eyes, sucking your fingers off at the breakfast table?”

You squirmed. Tried to jolt yourself away but it was no use.

“I didn’t think you-”

“Oh, I noticed.” He said, moving in to corner you, grip tightening until he was walking you backwards across the room as he spoke, never once taking his eyes off you. “And it’s a real shame this couldn’t have been easier for us both, but you just had to start it. So I watched your pathetic little displays, day after day, knowing if you’d behaved better, I would’ve given you exactly what you wanted.”

You fought not to trip over yourself until your legs bumped against the ottoman at the foot of his bed and you caught your breath. His eyes bored into yours and you blinked helplessly. His grip loosened on your wrists. You tried to speak, but your mouth had gone dry.

“If you’d been good,” he continued, voice lowering, “you wouldn’t have played around like that. Good girls don’t whore themselves out to respectable men.”

Your eyes narrowed in defiance as you felt heat start to brew in your stomach.

“Respectable?” You spat, and his grip tightened again, bringing one hand up to trace your jaw, almost pitifully.

“See what I mean? You dig yourself deeper at every turn. Good girls ask nicely, and say please. It didn’t take me long to figure out you had issues with authority. It could’ve been so easy for you, sweetheart. You had plenty of chances. You could’ve asked me very nicely to fuck you, but instead you behaved like a desperate slut for weeks on end. Eventually, I knew there was only one way to shut you up.”

Your ears started to ring and you fought harder to gain composure. He’d never talked to you like this before. And now, all this, all at once, it was almost too much. Goosebumps had long covered your arms and legs, despite the heat inside you burning you up. You were vaguely aware of heat pooling uncomfortably between your legs.

Your breathing was heavy as you stared into him, his hand gripping your chin, and you couldn’t hide it if you tried. He finally backed away, letting you peel yourself from the ottoman. His hungry eyes scanned over you, suit jacket now crumpled at the wrists. You swallowed as you tried to pull yourself together.

“You knew I was watching you. The whole time. Every time. It was… for me.”

He watched you knowingly, raised his eyebrows a little. His lips grew into that smirk, that fucking smirk you knew all too well.

“We were playing the same game, sweetheart. I was just… Better.”

“A little excessive, don’t you think?” Your voice faltered and you cursed how breathy it sounded.

“Oh, on the contrary. It was very entertaining to see you struggle, but I could’ve gone further.” He mused. “I even considered fucking her on your bed.”

Shit.

A thought popped into your head, and a strange smile made its way to your face.

“Aren’t you going to ask me where I got these?” You asked, glancing down.

He frowned for a second; good. You’d thrown him off guard. But he caught up fast.

“The heels? You know, I had her walk right past your door in those so you’d follow her and see just what you were missing?”

If you weren’t so wired with adrenaline, you were pretty sure you’d be tearing up with how desperate you felt. But his words channelled it all into pure anger.

“Fuck you.” You seethed, and he smiled.

“We'll get to that. But go on, I’ll bite. What did you do to her?”

“Let’s just say she deserved much worse than what she got. Maybe you should’ve fucked her on my bed. Would’ve given me a reason to choke the life out of her.”

“You think I’d care?”

“Course not. Knowing you, it’d probably get you off.”

“Which brings us right back to now.” He stared at you, challenging. You laughed again.

“Is this you talking? You’re not very good at it.”

“No, this is me giving you a second chance. The way I see it, you made your move, I made mine. Now, if you’re a good girl, and ask me very nicely to fuck you until that pretty little head of yours gets filled with nothing but empty space, I might consider putting an end to this and giving you what you want. Maybe.” If you thought you’d survive smacking that smug look off his face, you would.

“You want me to ask nicely, Coriolanus?” You closed the gap between the two of you and glanced up at him through your lashes. He looked back at you, and no chill in the world could cool you down from the fire in his eyes.

He stepped away, paced towards the desk chair – the one he’d watched you from last night – then dragged it across the floor, spun it around, and took a seat. Once again, last night felt worlds away now. A lifetime sat between that moment and this one as he made himself comfortable, unbuttoned his collar. As if the room was now a stage, and he was the sole spectator.

“Go on. I’m waiting.”

Cocky bastard.

Another airy laugh escaped you. But you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t exactly where you wanted him. So you played into it.

“You want me to beg you? Say pretty please?” Your voice softened as you slowly stepped towards him, holding his gaze. A passing thought reminded you of your childhood, asking your mother what you’d feel when you first truly fell for someone.

Fireworks. Thousands of them, crackling, hissing, charging the air between the two of you into something heavy. Thick clouds of smoke you could almost taste as you stared into darkened eyes. You paused in front of him, fingers playing with the hem of his suit jacket that brushed against your thighs. Caught your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Take it off.” He ordered.

“Gladly.”

You slipped the jacket off your shoulders, and it fell smoothly into a pile on the floor. You kicked off the heels next, landing haphazardly to the side with a thump. His eyes never leaving you, consuming you.

“Like what you see, Snow?”

He took you in, long and hungry and shameless. Like you were simply there for his entertainment, nothing else. You wondered where along the line he’d lost all his inhibitions, at what moment in his very young life he’d decided to simply stop caring. It should scare you, but it just made you burn warmer. Maybe your wires were a little crossed, too, because it didn’t make you feel cheap.

It made you feel powerful.

You knew you looked good, too; you’d made sure of it. But he was looking at you like you were carved out of solid gold. He didn’t answer, because he didn’t need to.

“Think I like you better when you’re not acting like a dumb slut.”

You hummed, determined and unphased, moving in closer until your legs touched his knees. His words shouldn’t turn you on - nor should not knowing exactly how much he meant them – but they did.

“You like me better when I’m begging, then?” You placed your legs either side of his, straddling him, but still standing, and took his hands in yours. You ran one of them across your lips, brazenly taking a digit in your mouth, releasing it with a wet pop, then dropping your head down.

“You want me to be straightforward, Snow? Tell you exactly what I want?” you breathed, your foreheads almost touching, looking down at him from a thrilling vantage point, your hair falling either side of his face. “To beg you to rip this off me?” You guided his hands to your hips, letting them slide over the lacy fabric. “You want me to beg you to kiss every inch of skin you see and make it yours? Beg you to fuck me until I can’t think, and forget my own name?”

You ran his hands down the sides of your legs, then, inch by inch, letting him take a good long look on the way, you finally lowered yourself onto his lap. Your blown-out eyes met again, at the same level this time. You shifted your hips once, feigning getting comfortable, and hid a smile as he let out a strained sound.

You were close enough to feel his breath against yours, fast but steady, controlled. You moved closer, your head dipping cautiously under his chin to kiss his neck. He smelt clean, like fresh laundry and his cologne, and his skin tasted like salt as your tongue traced a line across it. It felt like power, having him like this. Slowly starting to grind your hips as your mouth pressed against his pulse, every shaky breath you elicited from him awakening something new in you.

“Say it, Snow.” You murmured, breath catching. “Tell me you want me to beg you, and be good for you.” Another trail of messy kisses across his jaw, and you finally heard it, ragged and coarse, words shooting through you like knives softened by the heat of his breath on your hair.

“Be a good girl, and fucking beg me.”

You hummed with satisfaction. Moved your lips to his ear, hand cupping the back of his neck, and leaned in close.

“If you wanted me to be good,” you whispered, “then you’ve picked the wrong girl.”

You felt it, his whole body tensing beneath you. But you had it now, the upper hand, and you weren’t giving it away. Your other hand came up to close over his mouth with a warning shake of the head, and you gripped the back of his neck harder with the first. Craned it backwards so he could look at you, a different kind of fire in his eyes. A fire that could burn you far worse than any other. You leaned your weight into him until you were flush, skin pressing into fabric. Tightening your legs around his so he couldn’t kick out. You felt dangerous. You felt alive.

When you spoke, your voice was a vial of vitriol.

“You thought I’d just give into you? Three weeks of torture and you call it even? No fucking way, Snow. You wanted to play? Let’s play.”

You were closer to him now than you’d ever been before, infinitely closer than when you’d held hands in front of an audience, or danced in the middle of a ballroom, or when he’d draw you in for a lingering kiss at the head of a busy table.

You were closer still because of the common denominator: you were alone, your bodies pressed together, soft and firm colliding. And your stomach ached with want, but your rage burned brighter.

When you were sure he wouldn’t move, you readjusted your position on his lap so you were sat on one thigh, your right knee pressed firmly against the chair between his legs. Slowly, you dragged your hips against it, firm muscle between your legs, shameless as you stared him down.

“I’d like to modify the terms of our agreement, as of tonight. Starting with this: I’ve made sure your little whore won’t come running back here. If I so much as hear a whisper of a rumor that you’re fucking someone else, I’m leaving. Don’t think I don’t know how to disappear. I can, and I will.”

He scowled at you, and you’d never felt power like the rush you got from seeing your hand clamped over his mouth. His own hands, now easily able to overpower you and push yours away, instead sat at your hips, digging in so hard you knew there’d be bruises for weeks. As you moved, he started to follow suit, rocking your hips on his thigh faster.

He’s allowing this.

The realisation made you pull your hand from his mouth, and yet he didn’t speak. There was a tightness in his jaw, locked down so hard it must’ve hurt as he watched you move, helped you move. It sent a shock through your core, and you ground down harder.

Who’s on top now?

This was getting to your head.

“President Snow,” you mocked. “What a title. Thinks he can take whatever’s in his sight. Thinks he has the right. Did you think I’d come crawling back to you?” Your voice lowered.

“Did you think I’d get on my knees, like she did?” You glanced down, running your now-free hand over the front of his pants, gentle at first, then pressing in firm, and he hissed.

“Did you really think, after all your little shows, that I’d just submit? Not a chance.” You spat, and his breath turned a little shaky as your hand slid up, then down.

As it evened out, and he reached for composure again, he pulled a countermove. Got in close, with words so sharp, they nearly cut through you.

“Which one was your favorite?”

You pulled your hand away. Your hold on the back of his neck tightened, and in turn, so did his grip on your hips, pulling you down harder as you got closer, panties bunching up as you became desperate.

You shook your head.

“Don’t.”

He smirked.

“I gave you plenty to go off. Tell me, was it when I sat right here while she rode me? Or when I was fucking her mouth and calling your name?”

He pulled your hips in rougher, and you gasped, barely able to think. You were sure if he kept this up, your thighs would chafe. You just couldn’t find it in you to care.

“No, I don’t think so.” He hummed. “I know which one it was. It was the second time, wasn’t it? When I was making her cum all over my tongue, wondering what you tasted like.”

You couldn’t help it – a moan slipped out of your lips. He kept up the pace, rolling your hips faster, flexing his thigh as you started losing your bearings. He laughed at the state of you.

“I knew that one would get to you. Tell me something, princess, how many times did you touch yourself after that night wishing it was me? Or did you lose count?”

You gritted your teeth, fighting the spinning room.

“Cocky much?”

He let out a breathy laugh again, as if he was losing himself as much as you were. Pulling you in harder in response.

“Look at you,” he mused, “riding my thigh like the needy slut you are. Bet you’re close, too, and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“Fuck.” you panted. “Stop fucking talking, oh my god.”

“You sure about that, sweetheart? You know I can feel how wet it’s making you, right?”

Your head dropped down and you whined. Sure enough, you’d soaked through your panties and dripped an embarrassing wet patch on his dress pants. You cursed under your breath as you slowed down.

“Beg me.” He ordered.

“No.” You gasped as he pulled you back again, faster, hips bucking as your legs started to shake around his.

“Beg me,” he repeated, "or I’ll stop.”

“Fuck, no, don’t fucking stop, I can’t-”

It was so much friction it hurt, but you kept chasing it.

“Yes, you can. You want to cum? Ask nicely, sweetheart. Just ask me.”

The seam of your panties got wetter as you moved, just enough to let the pain melt into pleasure instead as it caught on your clit, and you started to ride out your high. You were right at the edge, he was keeping you there, hair stuck to your face in a hot sweat as you writhed on his lap. So fucking close.

“Fine, shit. Please. Please help me cum, oh my god. Right there, please. Fuck.”

And maybe you were more like him than you thought, because you weren’t ashamed. You rode his thigh like you’d ride him, unabashedly, while he watched you starting to fall apart. He moved faster, pulled your hips hard in as if you were riding him, as if he could feel it, breath running ragged, desperate. It only brought you closer knowing this would be sending him over the edge, holding you so near and yet so awfully far away. The look in his eyes screaming danger, and you let it swallow you whole, squeezing his shoulders like you were scared you’d float away.

"That's it. Knew you'd sound incredible, asking me all pretty like that."

His lips met your neck, teeth grazing your skin and that’s what did it, your legs squeezing his as you shook through your orgasm, crying out, falling to pieces, hearing going fuzzy. The words good girl echoing through your head so distantly, you couldn’t tell if he’d really said them or not.

You sighed, glazed eyes rolling open, coming back to yourself. Your right hand was pressed against his chest, fingers curled into the creased fabric of his shirt. As you looked closer, you noticed it had opened wider, and he was missing a button. Had you done that?

When your eyes finally met Snow’s, you couldn’t look away from them. Beautiful and blue, like an ocean frozen over, staring into yours like you were all he’d ever wanted. You could get high off this feeling, live off it.

“Get on the bed.” He breathed. “Right fucking now.”

But too much of any feeling isn’t good for you.

“No.”

He glowered, face flushing even further, and as he leaned in to make another demand, you quickly stood, trying your hardest not to let your wobbling legs give you away.

“You should understand, Snow. We’re doing things my way now. And I’m going to be doing them as I please, when I please.”

You picked his jacket up from the floor, and slipped back into it, the soft fabric cooling down your burning skin.

“You think you’re funny, sweetheart? Nobody likes a fucking tease.”

You chuckled, doing up a button and brushing your hair out of your face, damp with sweat. You walked to the dresser and took a swig from Snow’s half-empty glass, then turned. He sat there, and it took everything in you not to smirk at the mess you’d made of him. You handed him the glass when you were done drinking and turned away. You felt him stand, but you didn’t acknowledge it, still fiddling with your hair, smoothing it out.

“You said it yourself, Snow. I’m no common whore. If you want me to beg you to fuck me, you’re gonna have to work for it.” You turned, pulling him in for a chaste kiss. His face was unreadable.

“But be a doll, leave your door unlocked.” You added, stepping back. “You never know when I might change my mind.”

“You’re not going to leave. You wouldn’t dare.” He seethed, the rage in his voice only propelling you on.

“Wouldn’t I?” You smiled, giving him a once over. Dropped your eyes down pointedly, first at the ruined leg you’d ridden, then at the uncomfortable-looking tent in his pants. You met his eye again and bit your lip, really laying it on thick. “Good luck with that, sweetheart. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

He huffed, incredulous, disbelief painted across his face as you made for the door, swinging it open. You glanced over your shoulder.

“Buckle up, Snow. I’m just getting started.”

You missed the way his shocked face turned almost admiring as he watched you leave, walking barefoot down the hallway, leaving the door wide open.

Checkmate.

a/n: hope it was worth the wait 😌

taglist: @superchatnoir07 @itsrainingreid @nycweb-slinger @lookclosernow @etfrin @resibunn @serving-targaryen-realness @harmfulb1tch @demonsnangels @superb-icarus @julesandro @gracieroxzy @slyhersophia @shadowsepiphany @ben-has-arrived @unclecrunkle @zerotwo-sciencequeen @itsleniiilosers @thesiriusmap @ooooglymoooogly @darkqweenn @going-through-shit @loverw1tch @stinkii-boii @tqmqkii @not-avery @natsgf @sleepysongbirdsings @hopebaker @darknight3904 @pemberlystateofmind @bxtchopolis @real-lana-del-rey @24kmar @louweasleymalfoy @m1ndbrand @coconut-dreamz @cosmicgyral @urfavevirgoo @mk15x @theamuz @ashy-kit @violante777 @snowlandstop @badbleep88 (more tags in the comments!)

[noyasmashing]

Can I have more Yan Tamaki hcs? 🫠

Me and my husband were sticking together

• warnings: sub!yan! Tamaki x gn!reader, scent kink, soft yandere behavior, slight stalking, etc.

• authors note: HAII MILLY o(^ . ^)o I’m sorry for being so inactive!! Ive been traveling a lot more than I thought I would and I haven’t had much time to write :(( anyways yes yes here ya go!

Alright I’m just gunna say it. He has a scent kink. Especially the scent of your worn, sweat-drenched workout shorts, he can't help but be drawn to it. Painting an image of you sweaty, tired and yet oh so pretty in his mind. He's become so obsessed with the aroma that he's started to steal your clothes, to the point that you’ve begun to notice something is off.

Despite his shame and guilt over his actions, he's unable to resist the allure of your smell, which has become an intoxicating trigger for him. As a hero, he knows he should be above such base desires, but how can he help himself when he’s never experienced such intense emotions before? It’s not his fault your so attractive!!

Tamaki's arousal is amplified by the prospect of being caught in the act, whether it's pleasuring himself while smelling your clothes or being caught red-handed while stealing them. Despite his deep-seated shame and embarrassment over these desires, he's unable to suppress them, and they often find their way into his dreams.

In fact, the fantasy of being punished for his actions has become a recurring theme in his sleep. He loves the idea of being helpless under your control, with vibrators placed anywhere on him you pleased. His cock, prostate, nipples, he doesn’t care as long as your happy.

His deepest desire is to relinquish control and surrender to your will, allowing him to abandon all responsibility and simply obey without hesitation.

Despite being so pathetic, he has a strong desire to impress you. Being shy, he's not one for grand gestures, but he makes an effort to showcase his small accomplishments in the hopes you'll take notice. If you show more interest in Mirio than him, he'll become sulky and withdrawn. When you're near Mirio, he'll feel anxious and insecure. However, his demeanor changes instantly if you direct even a simple question or comment towards him - it's as if a weight lifts off his shoulders, and he's revitalized by your attention.

Tamaki has a tendency to become dramatically upset in your presence, often feigning hurt or distress in the hopes of gaining sympathy and affection from you. Solely to get a reaction from you, one that he can store away to fuel his late-night fantasies.

Despite his ardent desire to catch your attention, he finds himself tongue-tied and unable to articulate his feelings. When he tries to speak to you, his lower lip begins to tremble and his ears turn a bright red with embarrassment. His words get jumbled and tangled on his tongue, rendering him speechless. As a result, he usually resorts to simply nodding his head or muttering a few faint words.

Tamaki's naturally introverted nature often leads him to adopt a listening role, and he finds himself eavesdropping on your conversations out of a misplaced sense of duty. He rationalizes this behavior as a desire to "protect" and "keep you safe," but it's clear that his true motivation is to uncover more about you.

But that's not all - Tamaki is quite the photographer. He likely has an entire album dedicated to pictures of you on his phone, filled with videos and audio recordings of your laughter, conversations with him, and hell even just you talking to a friend. The poor boy would not be able to contain himself if you made a suggestive joke in his presence. Scurrying off to the nearest bathroom with a raging boner. That’s how bad his fascination with your voice is, and he can't help but replay it in his head, imagining all the intimate things you might say to him. He can get rather sloppy with trying to capture you, oblivious as ever. Let’s just hope you don’t catch him recording you, even with his clumsiness. Tamaki's enthusiasm can sometimes get the better of him, causing him to be reckless in his pursuit of capturing your perfection. Let’s just hope he doesn’t get caught by you, even with his clumsiness.

[lululandd]

wrong;

pairing: könig x f!reader

wordcount: 2.5k+

warnings: fluff?

note: ngl i had fun making this and i hope yall get a laugh from this or something (also on AO3)

summary: 

of all the kortac members you’ve worked and hung out with, you try to avoid könig the most. the austrian man comes off as normal and even endearing at first, masking his anxiety with comedy, always being thoughtful of people's needs and personal space. but the more you hung out with him the more you realise he might actually have a woman held hostage in his house. he likes to talk about her, mostly innocuous comments about her new hobbies, but from time to time könig lets out insane comments in such a casual tone that rendered you and other kortac operators speechless.

bunny doesn't like men so when my kitchen was renovated i had to put her in the basement..

—sometimes she misbehaves so much i want to hit her but i can't so i had to leash her.

no one dares to talk about his bunny, you notice everyone skirting around the subject and never asking him directly about her even though he’s actively bringing her up in conversations. you don’t mind being around him during assignments, since he’s usually too busy saving people’s lives and covering his teammates backs to think about his ‘bunny’. but outside of combat? at the base? at karaoke or bars? you avoid him as much as possible.

until you slipped up, of course.

you were tired; unwashed, thinking only of the food in front of you and the long luxurious cold shower you’re going to have right after.

hearing the word ‘sick’ somewhere in your vincinity you immediately went into worry mode and asked follow up questions before your brain could determine who was talking.

horangi lets out a cough next to you, and only then you realise who said the word ‘sick’ and about whom.

the usually boisterous man looked so downtrodden, barely eating his dinner, moving his food around his metal tray. 

“it’s bunny..” he whined, his hood blowing forwards for a moment before settling back in place.

“i’m sorry to hear that.” you offered, curtly. you thought of the least offensive thing you could muster that wouldn’t evoke any other bunny related tidbits. “how long until your assignment’s over?”

“two months.”

“i’m sure she’ll be fine.” you assured him, “hope she feels better soon, könig.”

he rested his chin on his open palm, “she can’t take care of herself, i had a friend stay at my house to take care of her.” 

you glance at horangi, hoping he’d steer the conversation away. he halfheartedly shrugged as he dug into his food, unwilling to help. you dug your own grave, the shrug seems to imply.

“your friend is probably doing their best, you just have to trust them.”

horangi raised his brows and smirked at you. you poked him with one of the corners of your metal tray playfully when you two were done eating. laughing as he bumps your hip with his, saying something in korean before answering, “you have to learn to evade the bunny topic yourself. you did good.”

perhaps this is the nicest, or the only thing anyone has ever dared to say about his captive, because he turned up at your shared bunk that night. stiletto immediately fiddled with her butterfly knife when she saw who was at the door.

“may i talk to you?” his gaze jumped from your eyes to something behind you before looking at you again quickly and looking away again.

stiletto snarked at him from her bed, “you can talk over there with the door open.”

thankful for her caution, you see könig doesn’t seem too bothered by it.

“i’m worried about bunny.” he lowered his voice, bending a little so his head was closer to yours.

“oi! three feet apart!” you hear her yell alongside the soft clitter-clatter of her butterfly knife.

könig straightened up immediately, it’s so funny seeing him obey stiletto without question even though he’s her senior in age and rank.

“your friend is with bunny, no?” you tried reassuring him.

“ja.” he squares up to his full height, making you step back to even be able to look at his face. “she is taking care of bunny but she is no doctor.”

“neither am i.” you shrugged, turning to look at stiletto for reassurance. 

to your relief she grumbled at the colonel, “get to the point, könig.”

the austrian threw a look at your bunkmate before looking back down at you.“i want you to go see her.”

your heart gave a little jolt, and you’re sure your whole body did too.

what.

blinking slowly, you turn your head to give stiletto a wide-eyed stare before looking back at him. “you want me to go see… your girl?” 

his expression shifted, you could see the twinkle in his eyes hearing you’re not outright rejecting his proposal. “ja, ja, i want you to see bunny. you seem like a nice person. i want you to check up on bunny, and maybe stay with her until i come back.”

“stay?” you repeated. “at your house? where bunny is?”

nodding excitedly, he stepped forwards, “ja, exactly. i’ll pay your tickets.”

you want to look back and make faces at your roommate but out of respect you just look as confused as you could and tell him you would give him an answer tomorrow.

as soon as the door closed and könig’s footsteps can no longer be heard, stiletto hissed from her bed, “ma che cazzo, he is crazy.”

plopping down next to her, “i feel sorry, though.”

she slapped your upper arm, “his crazy is catching. what the fuck?”

“i mean, if he wants me to visit then how bad could the situation be, right?” you try to make sense of his actions. “if bad comes to worse i can always call the police.”

stiletto groaned, “the police could be in on it, idiota.”

she’s right.

but,

he’s your co-worker. if you go missing during your planned trip to austria on könig’s dime, there would definitely be an investigation, right? there’s paper trail and receipts and everything.

you voice your thoughts to your roommate and she sighs in defeat.

“your funeral, bunny number two.”

—

you arrived at könig’s little countryside (remote) house, with its dilapidated (creepy) looking roof and peeling windowsill. a gigantic rabbit greeted you in his lush front garden, happily chewing on a celery stalk and hopping away from the iron gate as you approached.

hop? that thing looks like it could gallop. there must be something in the water here that makes everything grow so large. how far is chernobyl from this place, again?

staring at his front door an embarrassingly long time, you took a quick and deep breath before knocking. his front door felt so foreboding you instinctively step back right after.

the woman greeting you with a smile looks a little bit older than you, with a charming smile that would definitely make you feel safe if you’ve never heard of the way könig talks about his girlfriend.

“hi, im here to see……” your eyes dart around your peripherals to make sure there’s no one that could ambush you, “..bunny?”

she gestured at the rabbit in the patch of sunlight behind you.

the world as you know it crumbled before your eyes. the sun shone brighter, the dilapidated windows look fine, and did you call his cabin creepy earlier? you meant cosy.

you blinked slowly. “that’s.. bunny?” you reiterated, turning halfway back at the rabbit while pointing at it.

“ja, bunny is rabbit in english? yes?” she sounded a little impatient, “are you a vet? she is all better now.” its clear from her tone and the hard stare she gave you that she’s offended of könig’s distrust in her ability to take care of his pet rabbit.

putting your hand up, “no, i’m his friend.” you stared back at the rabbit again for a little longer, making sure its actually a rabbit and not a woman in a realistic rabbit suit. you’ve seen the $15000 collie suit that went viral a few years back, “so…. könig’s girlfriend doesn't live here?”

crossing her arms, it was her turn to blink slowly. “girlfriend? i’ve only seen him bring men home.”

as much as you wanted to laugh out loud at the second big misunderstanding this poor man has in his life, it makes complete sense why she would think that way. “i see.” was all you could muster.

“come in, then.” she offered.

taking note of where the basement is as she points at things while giving you a tour, you opened the door to be immediately greeted by a well lit space, with a little rabbit enclosure at the back, a waist high fence separating the space from the rest of the basement. it had one of those hamster wheels although a much larger size, a pet bed, and neat stack of hay just outside the fence gate. you took careful steps further down in the basement, and you do see a little clasp and a leash hanging off the wall by the pet bed.

the first thing you after your brain process the whole information is run back outside and update the group chat.

stiletto had to personally call you fifteen minutes later because you weren’t active in the group chat. 

könig came home to bunny sitting on what looked like a little trampoline with an umbrella on top of it, munching on some hay with pieces of flowers and fruits strewn about. seeing him, bunny hopped off her little perch. his little fluff of happiness is coming with her ears all perked up to flop on her side by his feet. here are little bows on both her ears and as he crouched down könig could feel all his stress melt away from the sight. picking bunny up, he walked in to find your bags packed and ready by the front door, your socks neatly placed inside each of your shoes.

bunny wiggled as könig roamed his house to look for you, presumably wanting to go back to her feast of hay and flowers and fruits that you set up for her. but when he opened the front door and set her down, she instead hopped further into the home, towards the basement door.

“there’s no man around for you to fear, häschen.” he coos, before looking at the direction bunny is heading.

first thing he saw was you had gathered more hay; könig notes its the expensive one he only gets when he receives his yearly bonus, the old pet bed looks cleaned, and there’s a new even bigger one by the wheel. he spots you in the corner fastening the leash hook.

“you want beer?” he offered in lieu of a greeting. you could hear the smile in his voice.

bunny punched the gate, signalling that she wants to go in the enclosure to possibly use the wheel or be with you. he unlatched the gate and watched with fascination as she hopped over to you, standing on her hind legs to see what you’re doing.

“oh hey könig, i’m just about done.” you pointed at the little sand pit next to the stairs, “careful of the sand pit.”

you heard him shuffle around behind you. the man is lazy and drags his feet when he’s not in combat. “you built this for bunny?” he sounded surprised, the sound of sand being played with grabbed your attention so you opted to stop fiddling with the hook and come see what he’s doing. 

bunny followed you as you walked towards him, “yeah, we pitched in for a lot of the stuff. there’s a card upstairs.” 

the tall man was grabbing some sand visibly stiffened at your reply. könig turned his head slowly towards you, “we?” the casualness dropped off his posture at that moment. “card?”

hearing the scepticism in his voice, you nodded and pointed at the door to usher him upstairs.

he stayed, looks down at the sand as if it was the most interesting thing in the world for him. bunny filled the long pause with her little clucks and chatters as you absentmindedly pet her. “i thought you guys didn’t like bunny..” he said weakly, returning to playing with the sand, slower this time.

oh no.

looking at it from his perspective, you saw how shitty you all must’ve looked. he had mentioned how sick his pet was and no one asked a single question nor seemed to care.

at this point bunny has sensed his distress and made her way towards him to cuddle. she’s really good at that, sensing peoples moods and coming over to offer comfort.

you think you will just rip the bandage off, or maybe at this point it’s more like giving him a surprise brazilian wax. “könig we thought bunny was your girlfriend. and you chain her up in the basement and everything.”

“WAS? WAS MEINST DU???” he turned your head to you so fast you could see little beads of sweat coming off his hair.

you think he’s yelling WHAT DO YOU MEAN??? so you continued on, swallowing thickly. “none of us were ever sure if you were talking about an animal or a person and we just…. yeah…” the look of horror in könig’s eyes was reflected in his overall disposition which prompted bunny to snuggle into his chest deeper. “i’m sorry könig…”

as you can see his world unravelling before him, you decided this would be the perfect time to leave him and his little rabbit alone.

a text in the big group chat popped up later that night.

[eringobragh420]

💜 Pairing: Damian Priest x f!OC / Finn Balor x f!OC 💜 Summary: Annabel is caught cheating on Finn with Damian. Now she must deal with the aftermath. 🛑 Warnings: Angst. mention of infidelity 💜 Word Count: 3.9k 💜 Notes: This is the continuation (part two) of Getting Caught. It'll be a multi-chapter story featuring an OC. ❤️ Thank you so much to @femdisa for reading through a portion and offering her valuable feedback. ❤️ MASTERLIST ❤️ 💜 Taglist: In the comments. If you’d like to be added, please click here!

It wasn’t difficult convincing Finn to leave dinner early. He took one look at her face, the blood drained from her cheeks, her round, glassy eyes, the way she seemed to be unsteady on her own feet, and asked if she needed to go. She could only nod, clutching at her abdomen as her stomach rolled and sloshed, and Finn stood instantly. He apologized to their friends as he wrapped an arm around her and helped her toward the exit. Don’t look back, she told herself. Don’t do it. So of course she did, glancing subtly over her shoulder at the moment Damian returned to the table. He noticed who was missing and looked up, meeting her gaze. He couldn’t do much else without giving them away, so he simply nodded before collapsing into his chair and scrubbing his hands over his face. She felt that ice pick again, chipping away at what was left of her heart.

Finn helped her into the car, and she felt like the worst girlfriend in the world, maybe even the worst person in the world. It was a miserable sentiment, but she would never deny that it was exactly what she deserved. She could complain about Finn all day, everything he did or didn’t do, and none of it would justify sleeping with one of his closest friends, and however he chose to react when she told him what she’d done would be appropriate, and she would accept whatever the outcome might be.

“Annabel?” Finn asked, snapping her out of her reverie. She looked at him. “Do ya think it was somethin’ ya ate?”

She didn’t understand the question, so decided to ignore it. “Finn, we need to talk,” she all but vomited the words.

Her boyfriend glanced at her wearing a lopsided smile. His blue eyes flashed like lightning as the street lights passed. “Talk about what?” he asked, still smiling. So beautiful, so ignorant.

Annabel gulped. “Um … I don’t know—” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Better to just rip the bandaid off. “Finn—” Christ, it hurt just to say his name. How the hell was she going— “—I’ve been sleeping with Damian.”

Finn’s cobalt eyes were on the road when she confessed, and he looked back at her, so obviously ready—and clearly wanting—to laugh at her terrible joke. His attention went back to the road for a split second before he was focused on her again. He did this several times, handsome smile fading more and more until it disappeared completely. He shifted in his seat. “What did ya say?” he asked.

Her mouth became arid and her heart was pounding so hard it was like one long beat. “I’ve been sleeping with Damian,” she repeated, this time adding, “I’m so sorry.”

The vehicle came to a slow stop at a stop sign, a low squeak echoing off the neighborhood houses. Finn looked at her, and she swore she saw The Demon flash across his face. “You’ve been fuckin’ Damian?” he pressed.

Annabel didn’t care much for his choice of words, but she accepted that she deserved hearing them. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m—”

“For how long?” His voice was steadily rising. “When did it start?” She should have known he might want answers to these questions, but here she sat, utterly speechless. “What, suddenly ya don’t hear me?”

“A year,” she replied. “It’s been a year. Finn, I’m so—”

“Sorry, right, yeah, I heard ya,” he interrupted, and she sealed her lips. They were still stopped at the intersection, not another car in sight. “So what do ya want me to do, Anna?” he questioned. “I’m just supposed to forgive ya? Because ya told me the truth?” She shook her head, tears blurring her vision. “And why did ya tell me? It’s been goin’ on for a year and I had no fuckin’ idea, so ya could’a just kept right on fuckin’ each other.”

Annabel looked at Finn, the tears that had been building now cascading down her contoured cheeks. She sniffed. “Rhea caught us,” she muttered.

Finn nodded, chuckling mirthlessly. “So not because ya felt bad or ya regret it,” he sneered, “but because ya got caught.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, wiping at the tears on her face and neck. Fuck, I’m even worse than I thought. “Yep,” she whispered, welcoming the numbness from earlier as it overwhelmed the self-loathing threatening to consume her.

A terrifying quiet gripped the inside of the SUV lasting only several moments, but feeling like years. Finn’s piercing eyes slowly slid to her, and she knew better than to meet his gaze, but it was instinct that made her look.

“When did she catch ya?” he growled.

More tears formed, quickly tumbling out of her eyes, and she didn’t bother trying to clear them away, knowing a flood was imminent. “At the restaurant,” she murmured.

Finn inhaled deeply through his nostrils. He sat still for a moment before his hand crept to the door handle where he pressed the unlock button. “Get out,” he ordered, surprisingly restrained.

She’d expected him to be furious and she’d expected their relationship would likely end, but she hadn’t considered that he’d just kick her out of the car. Of course you didn’t expect that—you’re a selfish bitch. She wanted to plead her case, beg for him to let her grab some things from their place, along with her own vehicle, but why did she deserve any of that after what she’d done? She looked at Finn, tears still falling, and he kept his eyes forward, both hands clutching the steering wheel white-knuckle tight. She nodded, grabbing her purse, and she climbed out of the SUV. As soon as she closed the door, Finn took off, tires squealing and smoking, and she watched him go, deep down wishing he would turn around, and even further down, knowing he wouldn’t. 

Annabel stood on the sidewalk next to the stop sign, watching Finn’s car until it made a turn and was out of sight. Numb body now on autopilot, she retrieved her phone from her purse and opened her contacts. As she scrolled through names and nicknames and businesses and bosses, she came to the slow realization that anyone who might have picked her up in this situation was a friend of Finn’s. All of her friends had been friends with Finn first. After suffering a devastating knee injury in her first and only WrestleMania match several years before, she was told she would never wrestle again. Upon hearing this news, Hunter, one of WWE’s executive producers, offered her a job behind the scenes, but on the NXT brand at the time. Since all of her friends had been on the main roster, she eventually lost contact with them. It was about that time she’d been hurrying backstage, immersed in an email on her phone, when she’d literally run into one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen in her life.

Shaking her head in a failed attempt at physically jostling the memories from her brain, she focused again on her contacts. Family would have been there in a heartbeat no matter how despicable a person she was, but they were 3,000 miles away. She scrolled several times past the one name she knew would help her because she worried this would be the one time he didn’t answer her call. After a brief moment of consideration and the shedding of more tears, she tapped his name with her thumb and slowly raised the phone to her ear.

Damian answered after only one ring. “Hey.” She blinked, taking a deep breath, and she cupped her free hand over her mouth as a sudden urge to cry out overpowered her. The memory of Damian’s confession came crashing through her already delicate mind and she thought she might pass out. “Bel?” Oh, god, don’t call me that. Not that. Not the nickname I love the most that only you have ever called me.

She collapsed against the metal post of the stop sign. “Damian,” she wept, removing her hand just enough so her speech wasn’t muffled, replacing it immediately after.

“Where are you?” he asked, and a second later she heard car keys jingle. “Are you at home?”

“No,” she replied, lifting her hand again. “I’m at a … stop sign …” She looked up at the street names and read them off. There was silence on the other end of the line.

“He left you by some stop sign?” Damian growled.

“Damian, please,” she sobbed.

“Alright, alright. I’m on my way. I’ll be right there, okay?”

Annabel was only able to nod before tapping the button to end the call. The true gravity of the situation threatened to crush her as she waited. She and Finn had been a special circumstance, Hunter had told them, reminiscing about his early relationship with Stephanie, so he’d agreed to look the other way as long as she and Finn’s relationship didn’t interfere in any way with work. And it never had. Until now—because surely Finn would tell someone about what she’d done. And if things weren’t complicated enough, she’d involved Damian Priest. Depending on how everything played out, they all three could end up fired. Thanks to her. 

“Well done, Annabel,” she sniffed, wiping away more tears. “Well done.”

Her feet were screaming by the time Damian arrived. The heels she’d begged Finn for had certainly been made with looks in mind and not comfort. She heard Damian’s sleek black sports car before she spotted the headlights, and her brain was briefly paralyzed by the memory of the time she’d ridden Damian’s dick while he sped down the highway at well past the legal limit, both of them giggling like children, moaning like pornstars. One of the most dangerous, exciting, and sexiest times of her life had happened in the very vehicle that was approaching her now. Why are you thinking about this right now? How does any of this matter right … now? 

“Are you okay?” Damian asked, rounding the front of his vehicle. He was still in the black slacks and black button down he’d worn to dinner, and she wondered if he’d left the restaurant to come and get her. What had he told their friends, if anything? What had Rhea told them? Had Finn already called or texted them to let them know he’d just found out his girlfriend was a slut? “Bel?” He reached out for her, and her body stiffened. She couldn’t let him touch her. Not now. Probably not ever again. He held his hands up, nodded, and opened the passenger door for her. She hobbled over, dreading the height of the curb she was going to have to descend before she was able to climb into the car. As she was about to take the plunge, Damian extended his hand to her, and she took a long, painful moment to consider her options. She could try it on her own and risk a sprained ankle or she could just hold on to the tall Puerto Rican’s hand for the few seconds it would take her to get inside his car.

She decided on taking his hand and regretted it almost immediately. I’d marry you tomorrow, she heard him say in her fracturing mind. I can’t breathe when we’re not together. Why had he confessed in the first place? Why the hell had he done it right after they’d been caught? And why the hell had she seen so many beautiful things when she’d looked at him? Swallowing bile, she all but tumbled into the passenger seat, Damian’s hand squeezing hers as if he could provide any sort of assistance, but she wasn’t allowing him any closer than he already was. She swept her much smaller fingers easily out of his grasp, and she glued her eyes to the floorboard until Damian finally closed the door. While he passed in front of the headlights, her fingers fumbled as she unstrapped the heels from her feet and then laid them neatly across her lap. A shaking nail scraped along the sparkling crystals as her mind played a reel of the day she and Finn had been shopping and she’d spotted the shoes. She’d be the first to admit she’d acted like a child—stamping her little feet and begging her boyfriend to buy them for her—but he’d relented with a smile, that beautiful Finn Bálor smile, handing the cashier a credit card before kissing Annabel on the cheek.

“Bel?” 

She jumped, clutching the heels. The car was moving, and she didn’t remember leaving the stop sign. Realizing someone had spoken her name, she found Damian in the driver’s seat, glancing between her and the road just as Finn had done after she’d told him her deepest, darkest secret, and sent their lives into an irreversible tailspin. “What?” she asked quietly.

“I asked where you wanted me to take you,” Damian replied, his voice like smoke on velvet, and had she just stubbed her toe, she’d have found comfort in it. 

“Oh.” Her eyes fell. “Um … the nearest hotel, I guess.”

“I’m not taking you to a hotel,” Damian said.

“Damian—”

“Forget it, Annabel. I’m not leaving you alone.”

Alone. That’s all she had to look forward to. She’d have to look for a new place to live—alone. She’d be traveling alone. She’d be staying in hotel rooms alone. She’d grow old alone. She’d die alone. And the legacy she would leave behind would be that of a cheater.

“Well,” she sighed, “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Then I’m taking you back to my place.”

“Damian—”

“Please, Bel? You can have the bed, I’ll sleep in the living room.”

She couldn’t deny the appeal. No need to venture into public and try to act like her life wasn’t falling apart. But most of all, she wouldn’t be alone. This might be her last chance not to be alone, and she felt her eyes tingle like she was about to cry, but no tears came. Had she actually cried them all or was she desensitizing as a coping mechanism?

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The remainder of the ride to Damian’s place was silent. Annabel cradled the heels, all the while playing the night over in her mind. How did neither of them lock the door? They’d always been so careful. They took risks, of course, but there were always precautions including locking the fucking door.

Damian pulled into a space outside his apartment building. She took a deep breath and opened the passenger door, barely getting her feet out before Damian was there. He reached for the heels in her hands and she snatched them away, hugging them tightly to her body. For the moment, they were all she had of Finn. He’d bought many things for her, but they were all at the home they’d shared, and she wasn’t sure if she’d get any of it back. They’d been gifts, but did she really have any right to them now? Damian gazed at her for a moment, and she refused to meet his eyes, so he closed the car door, and she followed him inside on bare feet.

She’d been here before, and she remembered feeling comfortable and safe, despite the infidelity she’d been committing, but now, all she felt was dread and shame. She glanced at the life size Batman in the corner of the living room, feeling the natural urge to make fun of him for it like the first time she’d seen it, but she forced those urges into the very pit of her stomach with a hard swallow. She looked at the black sofa recliner near the wall where she would sleep—there was no way she was going to let Damian give up his bed for her—and she wondered if he even had spare blankets and pillows. It was a lovely apartment, expensive, decorated with superheroes because Damian Priest was nothing if not an overgrown child, but it was only one bedroom. She wasn’t even sure he had a different comforter set than the one she’d always seen on his bed. 

The two of them stood awkwardly in the living space, Annabel clutching her heels, Damian with his hands on his hips. She kept her eyes on the floor—that’s where they were the safest—as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. They were still sore from having stood on an empty street corner with not but a stop sign to keep her company.

“So,” Damian started, clearing his throat, “you know where the bedroom and … everything is.”

“I’m just gonna sleep in the chair,” Annabel said, kneeling to place the heels on the gray hardwood floors beside the sofa as if they might shatter should she be careless with them. Like she’d been careless with her relationship with Finn, and it had so shattered as a result.

“Bel—”

“Damian,” she interrupted maybe a little more aggressively than she’d anticipated, but the man stopped speaking just the same. “It’s been a long fucking night. I don’t wanna sleep in your bed, I wanna sleep in the chair. Okay? Is that okay with you? And can you please stop calling me Bel?”

“Alright, okay,” Damian tossed over his shoulder as he headed down the hall. He returned a moment later with a blanket and pillow, setting them on the sofa. “And I got you these.” He held up one of his band t-shirts and a pair of basketball shorts. “I doubt the shorts will fit you, but—”

“Thanks.”

“If you need anything—”

“I know where your bedroom is,” she replied, and the implications alone almost made her retch.

Damian took an apprehensive step toward her, her body became rigid, and he backed up. He looked at her for a moment, which she could only tell out of her peripheral vision because she still forbade herself from linking her eyes with his, and then he turned and headed for his room, hands in his pockets, head down. Did he feel bad, she wondered? Was he filled with guilt? Regret, maybe? Or, considering his earlier revelation, was he happy they’d been caught? These thoughts led her to one final question, and she buried the inquiry deep within the wrinkles of her brain, hopefully never to be considered again.

After changing out of her dress and into the t-shirt Damian had provided—the shorts were too big and far too long for comfort—she hugged her knees to her chest and laid sideways on the recliner, head on the armrest. She had no expectations of falling asleep, but as soon as she permitted her eyes to close, she was not only sleeping, but dreaming. Nightmaring, rather. The Demon was chasing her through an empty neighborhood, the heels on her feet making it all but impossible to run efficiently. Damian was there, standing at the end of the street, and she sprinted in his direction, knowing that as soon as he saw The Demon, he’d take off running himself and stop him from ever reaching her. But he never moved. She screamed his name, but nothing came out. Damian extended his arms, and she was only feet from him, launching herself off the ground and into his arms. But The Demon had an arm around her waist and he wrenched her back, further from her destination, from where she was supposed to be. 

Annabel woke up as she tried screaming Damian’s name again, thankfully making no sound in reality either. Her heart pounded, her throat was dry, and her entire body thrummed, forcing her out of the recliner. She paced for several moments, trying to control her breathing, but her lungs were completely offline from the WiFi in her brain. Alone. She’d thought wrong about being able to handle being alone. Her feet moved, seemingly of their own free will, and she wrung her hands as she padded down the hallway to the bedroom door left ajar. For her. She pushed the door open slowly, just enough so she could see inside and inspect the scene before she decided to enter. Damian was asleep, sitting up against his pillows, TV remote on his bare chest, one arm bent behind his head, brawny bicep on full display, and was there ever going to come a day when she didn’t automatically check him out? For fuck’s sake, you are a slut. 

“Damian,” she whispered, nearly choking on his name. One hand clutched the door, the other the knob, as she wasn’t going to enter without his permission. “Damian,” she repeated a little louder. 

The man jumped, eyes opening to the size of saucers. “I’m up,” he rasped, clearing his throat as he sat up, the remote rolling off his chest. He was disoriented for a moment, taking a few breaths, and then he noticed her cowering at the door. He swung his long legs over the side of the bed and stood. “Are you okay?” he asked. He started toward her, stopped, and backed up before she was able to react negatively.

“I …” she trailed off. “Can I sleep in here tonight?” she forced out in a whisper. “I just—I didn’t want—”

“Shh,” Damian softly hushed her. “Just get in bed.” 

Annabel started around the bed to her side—you don’t have a side—when Damian grabbed his pillow.

“Wait,” she said. Damian turned to her, and her mouth clamped shut because suddenly she had no idea why she wanted him to wait.

“Do you want me to stay?” 

Annabel nodded, grateful he didn’t force her to say it, and she carefully slid into a bed she’d spent more time in than she would ever admit to. Damian repositioned his pillow before climbing under the covers.

“We can—” Damian started.

She made her way across the mattress slowly, offering Damian every opportunity to stop her—only half of her actually wanting him to stop her—but he remained still as she ducked under his arm so she could lay her head on his chest. She pressed her body to his, refraining from wrapping a leg around his so as not to give the wrong idea. The last thing she was interested in was any kind of sexual encounter. She simply needed human contact, to feel his warmth, his refined muscles, and when his arm promptly came around her waist, avoiding any of her spots, she realized she needed more than just contact—she needed to be held, to feel safe, to feel … not hated. Maybe she didn’t deserve it, but she swore to continue her self-loathing tomorrow—she just wanted to have tonight.

“You good? Is this okay?” Damian asked. Annabel could hear the sleep coating his voice.

“Yeah,” she breathed, nodding. “Thank you.”

Damian nodded and took a deep breath, Annabel’s head rising with his warm, bare chest, and her eyes were suddenly heavy. “For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams of the beautiful Annabel Lee,” his scratchy voice broke the momentary silence. Annabel’s—whose middle was Lee—eyes widened, brows creasing. “And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes of the beautiful … Anna …” He trailed off, poetry recitation replaced by soft snoring. 

She suddenly had so many questions, but Damian’s snoring was to her like white noise was to other people. Add to that her body’s sheer exhaustion, and her just widened eyes blinked slowly before closing, her own gentle snoring joining Damian’s.

[charlesslut16]

hii!

could you write something about charles x actress!reader where fans start saying that they don’t work together and charles should get someone more humble and yn gets really sad and she thinks about breaking up with charles but charles doesn’t want too break up then he comforts her? it could turn into a smut or a fluff, whatever you’d like!

thank you, kisses 🩷🩷

-we belong-

summary : you read the hate comments and you do not feel enough for charles anymore...

PAIRING : charles leclerc x actress!reader

WARNINGS : none?

note : i hope you like this :)

masterlist 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Charles and you have been dating for almost one and a half years now. You worked as an actress, while charles was a Formula One driver at Scuderia Ferrari.

You were so happy with charles as your boyfriend and best friend, and he was happy with you. But the fans of Charles were not as happy as you were with the relationship between the two of you.

First there were hate comments like 'charles deserves better' or 'they do not fit together' but then there were comments at premiers, events or even on the paddock.

You ignored them at first, but now that they were regularly, you couldn't ignore them anymore. As you read or heard them and started to doubt that you and charles could work.

Charles didn't realize you weren't feeling well, but that was your plan. You distanced yourself from him, which charles just thought and hoped was the stress.

liked by arthur_leclerc, yourusername and 1.532.116 others

charles_leclerc great day with my girl

view all 3,426 comments

lorenzotl had a great day with you guys

charles_leclerc_fanpage they're endgame!

yankees Delivered a strike! thanks for stopping by!

username she looks absolutly beautiful

user charles deserves better

username they just do not work

username absolutly agreed. he deserves better user he needs someone more humble

liked by user and 24.792 others

user i don't understand why he chose her.

You read the comments under charles new Instagram post. Every hate comment, you read, you took to heart. You knew that charles deserved better, but you loved him.

You pondered about what to do right now. Maybe you should break up with charles and go on living your life without charles. Or maybe you should tell charles.

If you told charles, you both could talk and clear up the feeling that were inside you. But no, you didn't want to tell charles your problem. Instead, you decided you should break up.

It would benefit everyone. Charles could find another girlfriend that was better for him and fit better to him. And you could film your movies without the worry that charles fans were there to say hurtful things.

Everything could go back to normal. 

So you called charles the next day and told him that he should come to your apartment because you wanted to talk about something which included your relationship.

Charles agreed and drove to your apartment. The bell rang and you opened the door anxiously. You welcomed charles in, without a hug or a kiss, which made charles suspect something bad.

Then you sat down on the couch, opposite from charles, which made him suspicious again. You played with your hands, that were in your lap. Then took a deep breath and looked him deep in the eyes.

“Charles… I think we should end our relationship or at least take a break. I can't take this hate anymore. It's consuming me whole.”

As you told this, charles, he was absolutely speechless. How could he not see how much it hurt you. He knew you became distant, but he didn't take it that serious. 

But now that he had the pieces, the puzzle finally made sense. You became distant because you wanted to break up, but not because of him, because of the comments.

He didn't know what to say. How could he? You had just told him you wanted to end your journey together. But he needed to stop you. Charles needed to tell you that you could master this together.

“I love you, y/n. I hope you know this. I understand that the hate comments can get too much. Please tell me when you feel like this. I can help you to cope with it. But please don't break up with me. You will please the haters with it.”

He stood up from his place on the couch and walked to you. Charles kneeled in front of you and took your hand into his. He held them up to his mouth and gave your wrist a kiss, then he laid them back on your lap.

“Y/n, I know that this is hard, but please do not end our relationship just because of some stupid comments.”

Before you could say something, charles gave you a warm, long hug, to comfort you. He saw that small tears were starting to appear, and he didn't want you to cry.

You couldn't say anything, as you realized, that if you had just talked to charles, everything could have been avoided. The sadness wouldn't have consumed you.

Charles ended the hug and saw as the tears were running down your cheeks. His heart broke at the sight of you being so upset. He’d do anything to make you feel better.

He hugged you again, rubbed your back as he held you tight and whispered sweet things into your ear. The scent of your boyfriend comforted. Charles wiped your tears and kissed your stained cheeks.

“It’s okay”

Charles hummed to you, even though he’d never ever admit to anyone he had done that, but he knew how much you loved it and as I said, he’d do anything for you

You wrapped your arms around Charles's shoulders, burrowed your head into his neck. He smelled of his aftershave and his expensive shampoo. Charles traced circles on your back with his fingers, his nose buried in your hair. 

“I’m here with you”

harles gave you a small, light kiss on your neck, while he rubbed his nose against the warm skin of your neck. He hoped that everything would be alright in time.

“Je t'aime. Nous allons nous en sortir ensemble. Tout va s'arranger. Mais s'il te plaît, arrête de lire ces commentaires horribles et méchants. Tu vaux bien mieux que tous ceux qui écrivent de tels commentaires. Nous sommes faits l'un pour l'autre.”

I love you. We'll get through this together. We're going to be okay. But please, stop reading those horrible, mean comments. You are so much better than anyone who writes such comments. We belong together.

[maximoffcarter]

Ice Queen 2.0.

Pairings: Casey Novak x Alex Cabot

Summary: Alexandra Cabot is known as the Ice Queen, and after a while, she learned to embrace it. Casey Novak, was known for her tough attitude and showed no fear. What happened when the squad gets on Novak's nerves?

A/n: I bring you another Calex one shot🫡This was requested by @saurgaeee so this is specially dedicated for them hehe. Yes, in my mind, this is set between S11 and S13 and Elliot is still there, Amanda and Amaro had joined, and that's that haha. I hope you guys enjoy this aaand if you have any more requests, please don't hesitate on sending an ask or message. I'm a nice person, I promise haha you don't have to be shy or afraid to talk to me. Enjoy and leave your comments, reblogs, hearts, whatever you'd like, will be very much appreciated🫶🏻

*not my gif*

Alexandra Cabot was known for being ‘The Ice Queen’, she couldn’t deny that for a while it annoyed to even hear that nickname, but after a while, she learn to grow into it because she figured out that people feared her, which made her powerful in some way, knowing people wouldn’t want to mess with her. She knew how to get what she wanted, and if she didn’t, she would go out of her way to do so. In court, she wasn’t playing, she was also not doing it to be in the headline of the newspaper, she wanted justice and if she had to be The Ice Queen to get it, then bring it on. Everyone already knew that if they got under her skin, they were done for sure, the whole squad had seen it, hell, the whole precinct had seen it. Casey had seen it. Of course it hadn’t been against her, never her. She was probably the only person that had been safe from the Ice Queen, even when she did something that could upset Alex, she could never stay upset, she was her girlfriend, she was her weakness, and people knew this, but even trying to have Casey there to protect themselves, it never worked. And honestly? Casey enjoyed it, she just laughed and was the person to say, I told you so.

And here they were once again. Another case that had been handed to Alex and once again, they were trying to have Alex as their servant, getting them warrants for everything when they didn’t even have any proof nor reason to get them. They felt entitled to demand Alex to get them, knowing perfectly that Petrovsky would never actually agree, and she’d get scolded again, and if that’s what they expected her to go through? They were completely in the wrong, and she was done listening to them yelling around, specially Elliot that always thought that because his gut told him so, things had to go his way.

“I will not tell you again. Do you want the warrant? Then find me something that actually works, find me evidence, a witness, anything that is not your stupid gut. If you think Petrovsky is going to give me the warrant just because your goddamn gut told you so, then you talk to her yourself. And let me tell you…if I get scolded for it, it’ll be ten times worst for you.” Alex grabbed her briefcase and looked at Elliot again. “Until you get me something good, don’t even think about calling me or making me waste my time again.”

Alex walked out of the room without looking at anyone else anymore, the whole room had gone quiet and there was no one who could say or stop her. She had said what she had said, and that was the end of it. They all looked at each other, almost speechless for what had just happened. It was even funny how they were so surprised knowing this was definitely not the first time that Alex had gone off on them like this, and certainly it wouldn’t be the last either. Casey just stood there staring at them, not a surprise in her face as she looked at everyone. Elliot then stared at her for a moment, his eyebrows raised as if questioning if she could do something. Almost begging her for anything.

Casey chuckled. “What? You really think I can convince her? After that? You’re out of your mind.” She grabbed her briefcase and shrugged. “You know she’s right. Petrovsky has her eyes on us as it is. Another stunt like this, and both of us will be sleeping in a cell.” She walked to the door and then looked back at Elliot. “Don’t test her, Stabler. You already know the Ice Queen.” She grinned before she left the office.

Casey had stopped to buy lunch for both of them, knowing that after that scene, Alex had completely forgotten that they were going to go for lunch after visiting the precinct. She went to her office to drop off her briefcase and coat and then headed to Alex’s office, who was at her desk reading through the files. Casey closed the door behind her and smiled once Alex looked up at her, an annoyed look on her face. Casey raised the bag of food in her hands and walked to the small table beside Alex’s desk, putting the bag on the table.

“That was quiet a scene.” Casey chuckled softly as she looked at Alex.

“I’m pretty sure the gray hairs I have are not because of my age but because of them.” Alex sighed as she dropped her pen and stood up, walking to Casey. “You know, the other day, Elliot asked me how it was possible that you dealt with me at home.” She grinned.

Casey shook her head. “Did he really say that?”

Alex shrugged. “I know he didn’t mean it. It was the heat of the moment.” She smiled as she looked at Casey, her hand going to Casey’s cheek and stroking it softly. “How do you deal with the Ice Queen back home, Ms. Novak?”

Casey chuckled softly as she placed her hands on Alex’s waist and pulled her close to her body. “I simply start the teasing and she’s over it in an instant.” She smirked.

Alex raised her brows playfully. “Sounds like a good way to get her out of her trance.” She giggled as she kissed Casey’s lips.

Casey smiled against her lips and raised her brow. “See? She’s now gone.” She pecked her lips. “So now, sit down and eat. I’ll help you out a bit before I have to go to my arraignment.”

“You’re an angel.” Alex smiled and sat down, opening the bag to get their food.

********************

After the stunt that Elliot had put, he had come to an agreement with Alex once they found more evidence that Alex took to get the warrants they needed, which also helped her at the end to win the case. It was comical to see how after the case was over, either they won or lost, they completely forgot about the arguments or fights they had, sometimes it was taken personally, but they knew that after the stress and pressure, they could all say things they didn’t mean. And so, they all moved on. This is why they all got along so well, and they were a good team, they understood each other, and they’d always have each other’s back no matter what.

A few days after, they got another case, and this one was handed over to Casey, Alex had joked with them that if they didn’t want to get scolded again, maybe they should hand it to Casey, who seemed to deal with them better than Alex ever did. Yes, Casey got frustrated, she got into arguments with them, she had a tough attitude and always put everyone in their places, but they had not actually seen Casey going off like Alex had done so many times -that’s why the nickname-. As they went over the case, Casey already knew this would be a tough one; a group of teenage boys who raped three students plus the sister of a little girl, and two of those girls…were dead. Of course, the three teenagers had money, which made the case even harder because of missing evidence, missing witnesses, and a ton of bullshit from the attorneys. Casey had been in this situation before, and she didn’t want to make the same mistake again, she didn’t want to put the only victims and witnesses she had in the Grand Jury. She couldn’t risk it, she couldn’t possibly go through that ordeal again of convincing them to testify before the Grand Jury and then having them put in danger because they were brave enough to speak. She had gone over it with the whole squad, making it very clear that she’d only be presenting the statements and that was it, so they had to find more evidence to convict the three teenagers. But there was always the DA’s office that screwed up their plan and Casey always had to listen, more so after her suspension, she was afraid it would happen again.

Casey walked into her office and threw her briefcase to the floor, slamming the door closed and going to the very end of her office. Not only was the DA on her neck, but also Olivia and Amanda were eating her alive when she told them that the girls would testify, and she was still waiting on Elliot and Amaro to find out. Did they really think that it was in her hands? She wasn’t her own boss, she didn’t run the DA’s office. She had to go by the book, so they didn’t have her neck again, she was not about to lose her license. She really didn’t want to do this, she was willing to do everything in her power to not put those girls in that position, but now, she was in a position that if she didn’t do as she was told, they’d either pass the case to someone else, or she’d be punished. She groaned loudly as she slammed her hands on the table, and just in that moment, Alex walked into her office and closed the door behind her. She had gotten a call from Olivia, and she should go check on Casey, and here she was; her girlfriend leaning over the table without saying a word, but she could see her body was trembling.

“Case?”

“Not right now, Alex.”

Alex sighed softly as she looked at Casey again. “What happened?”

“Fucking Cutter happened.” Casey snapped as she breathed heavily, walking to the window, and looking out.

“Casey, the squad will make sure they are safe. Those bastards have hidden every possible evidence that can help you.”

“I know but…this is my case. He doesn’t believe that I have a case without the girls. I can actually do this.” Casey looked at Alex.

Alex walked to her and kissed the side of her head softly. “I know. We all know this. Cutter is just being an ass.” She whispered softly as she put a strand of hair behind her ear, kissing the side of her head again. “I know my girlfriend.” She grinned.

Casey smiled softly as she nodded. “Only you do.” She chuckled.

Before Alex could say anything else, Casey’s phone went off, making her sigh heavily and went to get her phone, picking up her briefcase and putting it on her desk. Alex walked to her and leaned over the desk, looking up at her girlfriend as she answered the call. She took her time to study her face for a moment, noticing that she had never seen Casey looking this upset, let alone trembling because she was upset, but she knew this case was important for her and she regretted a bit that she had denied to have this case because then, Casey wouldn’t be in this position. Just as she thought that Casey had calmed down, she could see that her cheeks gone red and before she knew it, Casey hung up the phone, grabbed her briefcase and out the door she was. Alex furrowed her brows for a moment but followed her rapidly. Something was definitely about to go down.

Normally, Alex wouldn’t be surprised on how fast Casey walked, after all, she played softball, but she was surprised right at this moment as she followed because she could barely get on her pace, and Casey was definitely in a trance because she didn’t hear Alex calling her name. She couldn’t even figure out what was going on before they were in front of the whole squad, Olivia turned to look at both women and she could already tell that they had done something and that was the reason Casey literally flew here. Alex just stood behind Casey, not sure what to do, but slightly jumped as Casey slammed her briefcase in one of their desks, staring at everyone.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Amanda turned to look at her and sighed softly. “We didn’t have another choice, Novak.”

“You didn’t have-“ Casey scoffed. “You should’ve called me. That was your other choice. You. Call. Me. You do know this will be mentioned in court, right? The defense will argue that you showed up without reason, threatened them and Petrovsky is gonna come for my head when she finds out what you all did.” She shook her head. “I’ll be the one in trouble, not you. And honestly? It’s all of your heads they should be after. This case can go to the trash for your stunt.”

“Call you?” Amaro furrowed his brows. “You wanted us to call you so you can tell us that you can’t get a warrant because we have nothing? Oh, no, we’ve heard that before. You think we’re not doing anything here, but we are.” He stood up from his chair and walked to Casey. “You are the one who is listening to whatever the DA’s office tells you and you don’t change a damn thing.”

Casey stared at him as if she could throw daggers with her eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“We know the girls are going to testify.” Olivia simply said as she looked at Casey.

“You cannot put those girls in the stand, Casey.” Amanda shook her head. “We know the power they have, they could be in danger.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Casey looked at her with a defying stare.

“It’s your case. It’s your choice. You’re the one putting them there! You said we had time to get evidence.” Amaro shrugged. “We’ll say that he attacked us, so we defended ourselves.”

“And you think they’re gonna buy that? You went to their house and beat up not only the father, but one of the boys. They’ll find out and then, they’re coming for our jobs. I am not risking that. I am not gonna risk my job.”

“Oh so, that’s what this is about. You care more about your job than the girls.”

“Drop it, Amaro.” Elliot said as he looked at him.

“No. She cares more about losing her job than putting the girls in danger. Rollins said it. They have money, they have power. Tomorrow the girls testify, and the next day, they’re dead somewhere in the city.”

“I do not want to put them there! Don’t you get it?! I talked to Cutter, I told him I can build a case and he said no. I cannot go above my boss.”

“You did it once! Do it again! It’s like you’re giving them the free pass to get these girls killed!”

“I don’t see you bringing me any evidence.” Casey snapped. “You stand here, ready to yell at me for something I do not have control over. You don’t want me putting them in there? Then get me fucking evidence. I cannot do your goddamn job, I have enough with mine already.” Her voice had changed, this was not Casey, this was ADA Novak. “And no. It is not my choice. I am not my own boss, if I was, trust me, I’d have your ass right now for being here and not looking for evidence. Don’t you think that I know what could happen if they testify? I fucking know, and you know that I know!”

“Do you, though?” Amaro snapped.

Casey was about to walk to him before Elliot stopped her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t pretend like I’m some cold hearted bitch who doesn’t give a shit about those girls! If I could, I wouldn’t be doing this, but I have no other choice. I want those assholes behind bars as much as you want!” Casey groaned as she looked at Elliot, pushing him so he could let go of her. She then looked back at Amaro. “I remind you we are in this together, I’m not on their side. So, if you want me to avoid this, get me some fucking evidence and don’t come for me again thinking you’re entitled to yell at me for something I don’t have control over. Go do your goddamn job instead of telling me how to do mine!”

Both Alex and Elliot stared at each other for a moment, not sure what had just happened. Amaro finally was left speechless and only nodded and walking away followed by Amanda, Fin, and Munch. The whole time that Casey had been yelling speaking, Alex had stared at the redhead with her mouth almost wide open and completely frozen as she listened. Casey was yelling at Amaro but for a moment she thought Casey was yelling at her. She knew the level of anger that Casey could get into, she had seen her in court many times, she had seen her angry, but she had never seen her lash out like this. She didn’t even know if she was scared, surprised, or even aroused by this. When Elliot stared at her, the only thing she could do was shrug, she then returned her stare at Casey who was shaking at this point, and Alex knew it was nothing but anger radiating through her body.

“Casey?” Elliot asked softly, looking between Olivia and Alex. “Are you okay?”

Casey looked at Elliot with furrowed brows. “Don’t you dare treat me like I’m fucking insane. I meant what I said.”

Elliot nodded. “I know.”

Casey slammed her hands on the desk and groaned. “Does he really think I’m that cold hearted? I know I’m not the ray of sunshine that they want me to be, but why does he think that I don’t care? I fucking care.”

Alex didn’t know what to do, she could see that Casey was still in a trance and it seemed like talking to Elliot was not working at all. Alex took a deep breath as she placed her hands on Casey’s shoulders and turned her so she could face Alex. “Casey. I need you to take a deep breath.”

Casey finally looked at Alex. “What?”

“I need you to calm down, baby. Can you take a deep breath?” Alex placed a hand on Casey’s chest feeling her heart beating fast.

“I don’t need to calm down. You heard what he said to me, and I-“

“My love…” Alex grabbed Casey’s hand and placed it on her chest so she could feel Alex’s heartbeat. “I need you to breath. Your heartbeat keeps racing. Can you do that for me?” Casey nodded as she took a deep breath. “Just like that. That’s it. Take another.” Alex took a deep breath along Casey, her eyes staring into green ones as they breathed out. “One more time, baby.” They took a deep breath and then breathed out together. “Do you need to take another?”

Casey shook her head. “No.” She looked down at her hands and furrowed her brows. “Why do you have my hand on your boobs?”

Alex chuckled. “My chest, actually. But close.” She smiled. She let go of her hand and placed both on Casey’s cheeks. “I lost you there for a second, you were in a trance.”

Casey sighed, letting her hand fall to Alex’s waist. “Amaro pissed me off.”

“He did.” Alex chuckled. “I think we’re gonna send the poor guy to therapy if he has both of us going off on him.”

Casey laughed with Alex, sighing softly. “I’m sorry. I…I guess I’m too stressed.”

“Just a bit.” Elliot grinned.

Casey looked back at Elliot and sighed again. “If you didn’t stop me, I think I would’ve slapped him or punch his in the face.”

Elliot nodded as he chuckled. “Yeah, I could tell. I preferred to stop you before you gave him a purple eye.” He rubbed her back and offered a smile. “Get out of here. We got this, okay? We know you’re doing the best you can.”

Olivia offered a smile as she nodded. “Amaro had no right to say those things to you. We know why you’re doing what you’re doing. And trust me, Casey, if there is no other option, we will definitely keep an eye on the girls until this is all over.”

Casey nodded softly. “Thanks guys.”

Elliot smiled. “We got your back.” He looked at Alex and nodded, walking away with Olivia.

Alex smiled softly as Casey returned her eyes to Alex. “I’ve never seen you like that before. Are you gonna turn into Ice Queen 2?”

“I’m probably heading there.” Casey grinned.

Alex smiled. “Then we’ll both be Ice Queens.” She giggled as she pulled Casey for a kiss. “Are you feeling better?”

Casey nodded. “I think so. I do need a break.”

“What do you say we go out for lunch? If they have something important, I’m sure they’ll call you.”

Casey nodded again and smiled. “I’d like that.”

Alex pecked her lips and then smirked. “Maybe if we have time, we can have some dessert. Just to relax a bit more.”

“Oh?” Casey raised her brow as she grinned. “Could we have dessert first?”

Alex chuckled. “I need you to have energy, so let’s go now so we have some time.” She winked at her as she grabbed her hand.

Maybe Casey and Alex weren’t that different after all, and Alex would definitely not admit that she got all hot watching Casey going off like that, cause she knew the teasing would never end.

[purplesoulcollection]

Wait… Are You Envious?

Hi, I'm planning to writing something really hurtfull for Lloyd.

So warning tag : Hurtful comment, lashed out with no reason, slightly ooc, and a lil bit angst to happy again.

Stay tune to see more...

I’m so happy today, Mrs Marbella gives me the recipe that passed down from generation to generation to me. It means she gives me the heads up to marry Lloyd, is my intention being so clear to her?

His father also is so nice and so lovely to his wife. I wonder if Lloyd will be like that, probably… yes? We’re still in the beginning of the relationship.

But don’t be bullheaded first, Lloyd still have his unfinished projects. I don’t even know their progress of their project already done or not yet?

But he already doing so much and he’s still not done yet, are he trying to become a legendary hero?

Puft…

Maybe if he’s someone else, I’ll believe it. But Lloyd… no way. He didn’t have any desire to that glory.

His fortune is the more important to that useless glory.

Of course, his family more important than his fortune for him. I believe it without even needing him to prove it.

So I go to visit him. Like usual he usually lullaby Javier first before he can sleep, so I wait in front of the Javier’s room.

And Lloyd coming out from that room, with the stressed expression.

“What’s wrong, Lloyd? Is there any problem for you?”

“Oh it’s you. Why you are here at night?”

“I visit you, Lloyd. Night time is the moment you’re free from your work, I don’t want to disturb your work.”

“Oh, okay.”

And then we headed to his room, we walk in the silent atmosphere, not like usual chattering.

Why he’s so gloomy. Usually he will be enthusiastic about working hard and thinking about his evil plans which makes Javier and I shake our heads.

This is not like him at all.

Is there something troubling him?

“Lloyd, are you not being enjoys planning something evil for other people today?”

“You! You also got me wrong too, Name!”

HUH

“What are you talking about, Lloyd?”

He grabbed my arm and shake it. “Everyone always say that I’m the worthless one, not enough handsome to being a noble, always scheming people to their end, not marriageable partner, didn’t even recognize me as a human anymore, and only care about money. And you too, Name?”

“N-no, Lloyd, calm down a bit? Are you being drugged right now? We can talk about this carefully.”

He shakes his head and continued his rambled, “I hate to hear that! I’ll always be compared to Javier, just because he was stronger, handsome, shiny, and an expert swordsmaster. And what annoyed me was that I knew that too, so I just tried to laugh it off. But it's so hard to forget.”

And then he cried. With his eyes so visibly hurting.

And here I am being speechless and clueless. Is this what buried inside his mask?

Inside his scheming persona?

So I hugged him, hugged his head from the hurtful comment.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you Lloyd, but I oblivious that you’re being hurtful and jealous. Especially toward Javier. I’m sorry.”

I pat his head. His hair became straight smooth, not like his usual style.

“But I also know, that you are not Javier. You don’t need to be like him, the brightest and the handsomest knight I ever know, Lloyd.”

“You who are obsessed with money and wanted a good life with lazy and rich fortune, want to have a simple family, and always work hard to build the facilities that everyone needs are you, who charm everyone with your irreplaceable charisma.”

“Even if your responsibilities grow bigger every day, you are still passionate about completing them perfectly and making everyone happy. That's the reason why everyone in this village and I love you for who you are."

“Even if your look is slightly dimmed because of the look of Javier and his skill as the expert swordsmaster is irreplaceable to this kingdom. But you’re still his boss. He can never refute your orders because he is a knight loyal to the Frontera.”

“Really, you think so too?”

His face look brighter, it’s a good sign for me.

“Yes!”

“You are really trying to say that I’m better than Javier?”

His face looks like he wants something fishy now. He's like usual again.

“Hmm… who knows?”

“Name…”

And here he is, with his scheming face comes out.

“Wha, someone, help me from this schemer…”

“Not that fast…”

Really Lloyd, maybe you’re not the best man in this world. But your charm and existence makes my world and this world looks better than before.

The End

[sanrioluver222]

Good luck, babe.

Amelie Lacroix x afab, angst, comphet

The bed felt empty. So did her room. Amelie just couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that she could EVER love anyone but her husband.

While her husband was working she had met a girl. A beautiful one. She had been at a bar, alone as always. Her husband neglectful of their relationship and her feelings almost always numb from being alone for so long.

She ordered her usual drink and a small snack and sat at the bar. The bar was empty besides the few other regulars. As she was watching the random tv show on the older tv, in walked a woman.

She sat at the bar, she smelt of warm vanilla with a hint of rose. Amelie always had a good sense of smell. She cherry picked the details of this perfume, nothing she had ever smelt before.

She looked over at the woman, she ordered a vodka soda. Her tone soft and polite and dressed in jeans in and a black top. Her smile was bright and kind. Even if it wasn’t directed to her, she felt the strong kindness from her position.

The girl looked at Amelie. Her eyes looked her up and down. Not in a judgmental way but more in an admiring way. Her hair fell on her face perfectly, making her face stand out beautifully.

Amelie couldn’t take her eyes off the woman. it was like she was under a trance.

The woman smiled her way. “You’re very beautiful.” she said softly. The look in her eyes was genuine.

Amelie was speechless. She hadn’t gotten much attention from anyone besides old men or college students so it was a surprise to her that a woman, probably her age, complimenting her and looking at her as a friend…? and not as a piece of meat.

“I could say the same about you.” Amelie finally responded. The woman smiled at her. That smile she could think of for hours.

The woman looked at the bartender. “2 shot please, put it on my tab.” she said sweetly. The bartender complied as she turned back to Amelie.

“Hope you don’t mind, i’m not great at conversation without a shot and I figured i could get you one too, and if you don’t want it, i’ll just take another.” she giggled softly.

Amelie had a small smirk on her face. “Usually i’m the one buying drinks, it’s a nice change. Im Amelie.” she accent heavy.

The woman smiled back. “y/n, i hope i’m charming enough for you Amelie.” She said taking the shot the bartender delivered.

As the night progressed the two women talked and talked. They got to know each other and exchanged numbers.

Amelie had felt emotions, first time in ages. Usually she would come to the bar and drink away the lack of emotions and tried to fill the void with alcohol. But now with a woman she had just met she felt happiness and almost excitement.

The two women ended up walking out of the bar and walked around. They looked at the views of the dark night and the lights brightening up the sidewalks. They walked into a 24 hour convenience store.

“Let me pay” Amelie said as they walked in. Y/n gave a slight pout but then smiled. “Fine, ONLY if you text me after this interesting date.”

Amelie eyebrows lifted. A date? Well maybe….No. Why was she flustered because of a joking comment. She knew that Y/n was just joking….right?

Amelie nodded slowly. But she noticed the woman’s face fall slightly. “Too far? sorry it was meant as a joke. sorry if it made you uncomfortable.” she trailed off a bit.

Amelie shook her head. “No don’t even think that, just zoned out for a second.”

The woman smiled. They both grabbed some food and paid and they walked back to the bar. It was already 2 am, both very tired.

They made it to Amelie’s car. “Where’s yours?” she questioned. She huffed. “I took the bus…” she said nervously. Amelie smiled.

“It’s okay i’ll give you a ride.”

After a few months, Amelie and Y/n had gotten close. They were connected that the hip at this point. Amelie felt herself opening up to the woman who’s smile contaminated her mind.

Y/n had been over all the time. Almost every evening there she was, in Amelie’s bed or the living room or in the kitchen. Wherever she was her presence was felt by Amelie.

One day there sat in the living room, a random reality tv show playing in the background and an open bottle of tequila as well as an open bottle of wine with a charcuterie board sat on the glass coffee table.

The two have gotten close, too close. So close every time they went out they were mistaken as a couple. So close that Amelie’s dreams were contaminated by Y/n and her desires with her. So close that they experimented with each other.

The soft caresses and touches polluted her mind. Amelie’s lipstick always placed somewhere on the woman’s body, in a place where only she got to see.

This night y/n had a suggestion. “Do you want to go to the beach?” she questioned with a mischievous grin on her face. Amelie nodded quickly with a smile to match hers.

Then they packed up the food and drinks and headed towards the beach. A warm summer night at a secluded beach.

They sat near the water. The shots poured down their throats and their faces getting more and more used to the alcohol as it filled their system.

Amelie looked over at her. She looked so beautiful. A soft kisses was planted on her lips as she wrapped her arms around the woman’s waist.

The woman kissed back, Amelie pushed her down into the sand. It was warm and the her touches on Amelie’s chill body made her warm up.

Then she woke up. 2 years after Y/n, Amelie still had dreams about her. After that day at the beach Amelie went MIA. To this day she didn’t even know why.

She ignored her texts, her pleas, her knocks at the door. Everything.

She sat up. Her husband in bed, sleeping soundly. She put her head in her hands.

‘You’re nothing more than his wife’

She thought. Even after the years she and y/n had been apart she had reoccurring dreams of them. Especially that night on the beach.

And when she thought about y/n, all of those years ago. She stood face to face with ‘i told you so’ and that god damn smile. That smile that will forever pollute her mind.

[bidisasterevankinard]

Fuck it friday

tagged by @tizniz @jesuisici33 @daffi-990 @diazsdimples @wikiangela thank you<333 I missed my crossover fic so I wrote a little today. he is Jake and Buck's dynamic I can't wait to explore more cause I already love it way to much

“Jake, I don’t know about it,” but before Buck can continue to think of the reason why he can’t come to San-Diego, Jake already speaks.

“Listen here, Buckley. We have tried to get together for the last four years after I was in LA for three days to congratulate you on ending your probation year. I literally now live in the city in 3 hours drive from LA. And you died six months ago before it happened,” Jake is silent for a second, but Buck hears how he takes deep breath to take himself back together. Hearing how his death affected even his friends out of LA make him bite his lip so as not to cry. Painful reminder he should keep trying harder on therapy, should try to get better to help his family heal too. “So I’m not asking. You are bringing your pretty ass to San-Diego. I might even help to heal your heart after the recent break up with what is her name?” 

“Natalia. And there’s nothing to heal,” Buck for a second considers if he should tell Jake the whole truth about the break up or not, but really he needs a friend and there is no one better to talk about Eddie because Jake is Buck’s only friend. Not Eddie’s found family too. “I broke up with her because I understood I’m in love with…” Buck takes a deep breath getting ready to say it for the first time to someone who is not Dr. Copeland, but Jake does it first.

“Eddie.” 

The way the name of his best friend so easily slips from Jake’s mouth leaves Buck speechless with just one question which he almost scream.

“H-HOW?!”

“You talk about the guy all the time. You raise his, no, not his, his and yours  son together. You talk about him like he put the sun, moon and stars in the sky. It was so easy,”Buck hears how Jake rolls his beautiful green eyes and he hopes the man feels how he shows him finger. “Do not show me finger, sweetheart. You know I’m right. I’m more shocked no one called you on this definitely not little crush on your hot bestie before me. And they see you two together.” 

“Like no one calls you on your homoerotic comments about Rooster? Or how now do you want dick measure with the man not in figurative but real meaning?” Buck smirks when he hears how Jake tries to say something to deny it, but fails.

“How?”

Grinning, Buck takes a deep breath and perfectly repeating Jack's intonation begins to quote.

“Oh, Buck, Rooster is so cocky I hate his guts. Oh, Buck, this man irritates me so much I want to send him on fire. Buck, I saved this asshole today and we shook hands and I think we are going to be friends soon. Sweetheart, you will not believe who asked me about beer in Hard Deck without the team. Fuck, Buck Rooster abs somehow better than mine and it’s… irritates me so much,” Buck laughs remembering how the last part was said more like I-want-to-fuck-him and not this-guy-is-hotter-than-me-and-I'm-jealous. Buck knows the difference too well. He was friends with it for a moment. “I always feel like you would jump his bones the next time you see the man.”

“Said you”

“Touche.”

tagging @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @exhuastedpigeon @eddiescowboy @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @evanbegins @rainbow-nerdss @rogerzsteven @the-likesofus @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @transboybuckley @underwater-ninja-13 @puppyboybuckley @paranoidbean @anakinfallen @spaceprincessem @spotsandsocks @spagheddiediaz @devirnis @fortheloveofbuddie @gaydiaz @giddyupbuck @heartshapedvows @hoodie-buck @jeeyuns @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @caroandcats @cowboybuckleys @bigfootsmom @bekkachaos @buddierights @mandzuking17 @monsterrae1 @malewifediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @hippolotamus and anyone who wants

[din-miller]

Hey, I humbly ask for the bad batch x femreader (separately) who has muscles? Like she's super insecure about them because she feels like she can't wear anything nice because she looks to bulky?

Fluff or smut it's up to you!

❤️

Ooohhh that’s a cool ask. I’ve never really had toned muscles so this was a challenge to do in a sense that I don’t have those insecurities about my body. Hopefully for those badasses who do, I didn’t completely fumble this ask.

Insecurities Get Us All, Just Thought You Should Know

Pairing: The Bad Batch x Female Reader

Words: all together is 3.8k

Warnings: 18+, implications to sexy times, Crosshair’s is spicy, insecurity, female reader, talks about how women should be soft and feminine for male pleasure, ugh, our boys will step on those men

A/N: unfortunately after spending two days thinking about how to do Echo’s part, I gave up. He will be missed. Crosshairs part is maybe (?) a little rough around the edges but I really struggle with his character. Tech loses the ability to speak with big words because you know, women with muscles leave us speechless. Dividers by @saradika

WRECKER

You stare at the dress in your hand – if you can even call it such – and wonder if you could get away with murder; more specifically the murder of one trandoshan.

While you tend to hate the missions she sends you and the Batch on, this one definitely is on top of the hatred list. You turn the dress around, eyes taking in all the straps that make up a complicated crisscross pattern, a poor excuse for a back. The dress is floor length, more elegant than daring, looser than fitting but it’s sleeveless.

It’s not ugly, the deep shade of purple is stunning to be honest. It’s just that, well it highlights the part of yourself that you keep hidden under baggy clothes. Your arms have always been an issue for you. Out of all the boys only Hunter and Wrecker’s arms are bigger than yours. The former just barely.

You were admittedly scared at first when the boys saw your bare arms. You had expected them to judge you, make fun of you, but instead they asked about your workout routine. It mostly involves saving their asses and a hundred pushups before bed.

They let you feel free to unapologetically be yourself, muscles and all. But this isn’t a hot afternoon or a Sunday swim. This is a stupid mission to a sneezy cantina.

A knock at the ‘fresher door startled you. Cid had allowed you to use her private fresher to change. The only people who’d be knocking is her, Omega, or the boys.

“One second.” You call out realising that you’re still standing naked in the room save for your undergarments.

You get to work changing, slipping the dress over your head before realising that was a mistake and you’re now stuck tangled up in the fabric. You try wiggling your body, shifting your arms as much as you can but nothing proved helpful. You’re one hundred percent stuck.

You must have made a noise because the knocking is back followed by a concerned voice, “Everything okay in there?”

Wrecker.

Sweat, loving, Wrecker.

Wrecker who playfully challenges you to arm wrestling matches despite knowing he’ll win every time. Never once making a stupid comment like if you were a man you’d be able to beat him. Wrecker, who has never made any negative or cruel comments about your appearance.

Wrecker, the man you’re oh so helplessly in love with.

The man who has never seen you in a dress, who has never once seen anything bare except your arms. That’s about to change now ‘cause there is no way you’re going to be able to get unstuck without ripping the dress. So, you swallow your pride; “I think I need help-,”

“Help? Are you hurt? Wait there, I’ll go get Tech-,”

“No, I’m not hurt. Well maybe my pride is a little,” You grunt, trying to free yourself because honestly this is not how you imagined Wrecker helping you with your clothing. No, he’d be taking them off, not putting them on, “I’m stuck.”

“Oh,” Wrecker clears his throat, sounding lost, “Do you want me to come in?”

“You can, but I’m sorta…” You frown, trying to figure out the best word, “Indecent.”

Wrecker cleared his throat again, this time a little louder, “Oh, you’re naked. I can go get Cid.”

“No! You send her in here and she’ll be coming back out in a body bag,” You warn him, completely truthful, “And I’m not naked, I have underwear on. Look it’s okay, I can get one of the other boys-,”

“Yeah, that’s not happenin’.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m going to unlock the door. Is anyone else out there?” You ask, unlocking the door for him, a little awkwardly as you can’t move your arms without your entire upper body going with. You had to bend at the waist and blindly find the doorknob.

You hear shuffling from the other side, footsteps coming closer until they stop just shy of the door. You can see the silhouette of Wrecker’s boots, “No, just me. ‘sides I wouldn’t let anyone see ya half dressed. Bad enough some besom is going to eyein’ you all night like you’re some slab of meat.”

Your stomach turns unpleasantly at the thought of being subjected to lust gazes all night long, so you push away all thoughts about the mission and the foal men before they can consume you. One fear at a time.

You relax your arms, making sure you don’t flex. Good practice for tonight you think bitterly and move away from the door to let him in. He was quick, door closing hot on his heels. You avoid his gaze, not wanting to see the look of disgust as he takes in your muscular body. Thankfully nothing private is showing, leaving you with some modesty.

Your hands are stuck in the air, trapped by fabric and straps, the gown part of the dress is bunched up around your waist, leaving just enough fabric to cover your private part.

You keep your eyes on the wall in front of you as you try to ease the awkward tension in the air, “Didn’t Hunter ban you from using such foal words?”

“Only in front of Omega.” He replies, stepping in close and his fingers trail down your arm, from your elbow to your shoulder where the straps all twist together.

The first brush of his fingertips against your shoulder blade has your knees going weak. His breath is hot against your neck as he asks, “Got a reference to how this is ‘posed to go?”

“Oh, yeah I think the package had one actually,” You half-blindly search for the package before handing it to him, “Here.”

Wrecker studies the picture for a few seconds before giving a small ‘aha’, “I think I understand.”

His hands are back on you, warm and welcoming as he works in silence, occasionally grunting when a finger gets tangled up in the straps. In those moments you snort and he gently pinches your side in response.

Either the dress is more complicated than you originally thought or Wrecker is going at a snails pace – almost like he’s milking the closeness and skin on skin contact for all its worth. You hope it’s the latter and you’re not hopelessly reading into the way his fingers are caressing your skin even though the task at hand doesn’t call for such loving touches.

“There, all done.”

“Thank you.” You give an experimental wiggle of your shoulders to make sure the straps stay in place for tonight before rewarding Wrecker with a kiss on the cheek before thinking better of it.

Realising what you had just done, you hastily turn away, missing the dorky awestruck expression on his face, and in your turn you catch your reflection and oh.

Your arms, well, they’re not hard to miss. Your eyes are drawn to them, impossible not to see. You don’t necessarily hate your muscles, they’re what have kept you alive. You don’t survive a war ridden galaxy by having noodle arms. It’s just seeing them on display like this, for people to see and judge you, mock you, it’s too much.

If it wasn’t for your arms you’d actually consider yourself attractive in this entire – or at least attractive in the eyes of men.

The rest of the dress is flowy, with a little support for your breast, but other than your arms it highlights no other muscular features your body has. Still you try to make yourself appear smaller, more feminine, but it’s not working and your stomach is starting to turn again unforgivingly.

In the mirror you catch Wrecker taking small steps towards you, “Any chance you’ll let me know what’s going on in your head, mesh’la?”

You give a deep sigh, “Cid picked the wrong person for the job. Slap some lipstick on Crosshair and he’d get more attention than I would. How am I supposed to seduce anyone when I look like a hairless lasat? The moment I step foot in the cantina all eyes will be on me but none of them will see me, you know?”

The corner of Wrecker’s lips tilt down, sadness brief in his eyes before he shakes his head and pulls you back into his embrace, taking you by surprise but you melt against his chest all the same.

“You know what I see?” His arms come to wrap around you, hands locking together over your stomach, “I see strength. Arms that are strong to carry your kin to safety. I see warmth and comfort; a safe place to rest, to be held. I see a strong beautiful woman. I see you.”

You gasp, eyes wide and locking onto Wrecker’s for a split second before turning in his arms and pulling his head down to catch his plush lips in your own. Wrecker lets out a startled noise before moaning softly against your lips, arms wrapping around you to pull you in closer to his body.

His mouth separate from yours for a brief second and mirth colours his next few words, “If you need help taking off your dress-,”

“Oh, I will.”

HUNTER

You flop yourself in bed, body aching in every sense possible. You hadn’t even done much. A simple supply run, nothing too demanding of your body but lo and behold your leg decided to cramp up and you did the entire walk back to the ship trying your best to mask the limp you took with every step. If Omega had seen you struggling she’d immediately call Hunter and Hunter would get Tech, who would tell Wrecker to carry you back to the ship, where Crosshair would be waiting seemingly indifferent about your pain but he’d hover over you nonetheless.

It would be an absolute shit show.

So you hid the pain until you got back to your private bunk, or the small storage room that has been rearranged to house you, you should say. Your plan for the night is to sulk away and hope the cramp eases up through the night.

The worst part is that in your hurry to get back to the ship and lay down, you forgot to stop and restock the ship’s supply of heat packs. Something that would most certainly come in handy right about now.

A knock comes from the door and you groan. The last thing you want right now is company. Knowing that shooing whoever it is away would only result in the entirety of the Batch piling into your room to make sure you're okay, you have no choice but yell for them to come in.

Hunter – of course it’s Hunter – peeks his head through the door before stepping all the way in, “Hey, can I come in?”

“It’s your ship.” You point out, straightening yourself to sit up properly on your bed.

“We both know it’s Tech,” He laughs, stepping into your room, face turning serious for a moment, “Omega said you were walking funny earlier. Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“You should know by now that you can’t hide anything from me. You also should know that I don’t like it when you try too. We’re an allit, which means we take care of each other.”

“Even if that person in dumb and forgot to get supplies that could actually help them manage the pain?” You ask, self blaming as you start massaging your leg. No point in hiding the cramps now.

“Especially then,” Hunter states before dropping down beside you. He shifts himself until his back is against the wall, sitting himself upright before laying your legs on his lap, “Crosshair gets really bad cramps. I learned a long time ago how to rub the knots out. Allow me?”

Hyper aware he can feel your muscles under his fingertips you hold your breath waiting for a comment that never comes. His fingers tuck themselves under the hem of your sweats, rolling them up the slightest as he asks, “May I? It’ll help if I roll your pant leg up so I can see the knots clearer.”

You swallow around the lump forming in the back of your throat. May he? Could you push away your fear of judgement to receive help? Your legs are the most muscular part of your body for you were raised in a small village, no public transport, everything was in appropriate walking distance from your house. And now running with the Batch you’re on your feet more than ever. Always trying to stay one foot ahead of imperials. It’s no wonder why your leg is throbbing.

“I’m sorry,” Hunter's hands leave your leg, “I obviously overstepped.”

“It’s fine,” You say meekly, willing your body to relax in his embrace. He gives you a look and you sigh, “Truthfully, my legs are seen as unattractive in some beauty cultures and I don’t feel like hearing snide comments right now.”

“Unattractive?” He repeats, brows drawn together as he takes a second to sort his thoughts. His lips eventually purse together briefly before nodding slightly, “You are incredibly well built, it’s something I find admirable about you. You’re fast, saved our asses a few times in battle because of these muscles in your legs, and that’s not to be taken lightly. I don’t know what ‘beauty standards’ you were raised with but I find your body to be very attractive, mesh’la.”

You study him for a minute, “You’re being honest.” It’s not a question, more of an observation and you are a bit taken back, “It truly doesn’t bother you that I’m built like a lasat?”

“A lasat? I wasn’t aware you only have four toes.” The amusement in his tone has you rolling your eyes. His hands return to your leg and he gives a reassuring squeeze, “If you allow me to continue, once I’ve got all the knots out, I’d love to take you out for dinner and maybe afterwards I could show you just how attractive you truly are.”

You grin, laying your head down in the crook of his neck as you watch his hand slide your pants up, “I’d love nothing more.”

TECH

“You should not have done that,” Tech scowls at you, arranging the necessary medical tools, “It was reckless and could have been avoidable.”

You’d wave his scowling off if the action didn’t cause your body to scream in protest. He’s right, you could have totally avoided showing off your impressive speaker skills – or at least not fail at jumping that ramp.

It could have been worse. The scanner picked up no broken bones, just a deep laceration on your stomach and some small ones paired with bruises that’ll bloom into some nasty colours. You had shredded your pants in the crash too, the fabric now hanging loosely in some places.

Tech sets his jaw and orders you to lift up your shirt, “I need to flush your wounds before applying any bacta.”

Panic floods your body, “No.”

Tech brows rose ever so slightly, just visible above his goggles, “No? What do you mean by no?”

“No, I will not lift my shirt up.” You will not allow him to see your less than feminine body. Will not face the hard truth that the man you’re crushing on is repulsed by your body. You would not survive it.

Tech, oblivious to your inward panic plainly states, “You do realise that in order for me to stop the bleeding and clean the cut so it doesn’t get infected, I need access to the wound?”

Honestly, bleeding out is better than Tech seeing your stomach. You don’t necessarily have abs, not like Hunter. You’re built more like Wrecker; big bodied. Far from soft and delicate. Never feminine like the girls in the holo movies.

Tech gently lays his hand on your arm, tilting your head up with his other, eyes holding yours hard like his next words are the most important he’ll ever say, “If you’re afraid I may try to take advantage of you in your undress state, I can call one of the boys-,”

“No!” You yell, desperately needing him to know that’s not true, not even close, “That didn’t even cross my mind. I trust you, Tech.”

His body relaxes at your words, “Then I see no reason for me not to clean the wound.”

You draw your bottom lip between your teeth and admit defeat. You pull your shirt up enough for the wound to be visible but not high enough for Tech to see your chest band. Your body is tense, awaiting an insult that normally comes by now. But instead Tech makes a noise at the back of his throat, an audible swallowing sound followed with a quiet ‘oh’.

You don’t dare to look at his face.

“I’m sorry.”

Tech doesn’t try to gain eye contact this time. He gently wipes away the dry blood flaked on your skin, “For pulling the stunt or getting hurt?”

“For worrying you,” You softly say, tone apologetic, “And for you having to stare at my stomach. I’m sure you could be spending your time fixing the ship or watching holo videos of twi’lek.”

Tech blushes at the last part, “I don’t indulge in such videos. And while I do find twi’leks’ pleasing to the eye, my ‘taste’ is, well,” His eyes linger in your bare skin, darkening a little when you flex your stomach, “You. Not just your body, but your mind, your personality. You’re beautiful, strong, caring. Any man would be lucky to have you as a partner.”

“Any man?” You ask, lips turning up, finally meeting his eyes. You lean in close to his body, taking the medical equipment from his hands and set them aside, “Does that include you?”

Tech adjusts his goggles, lips holding a shy smile, “Most definitely.”

There’s a dull ache in your stomach when you lean up to kiss him but you don’t care. The softness of his lips and the way he draws in a sharp inhale makes it worth it.

CROSSHAIR

“You have to be kriffing kidding me!” You huff, kicking the side of the dryer, “Echo said he fixed this blasted machine.”

Behind you came a snort, “He did. That’s him fixing it.”

You raise a brow at Crosshair, “Not helping.”

“Wasn’t trying too,” He quips, toothpick switching from one side of his mouth to the other, “You could borrow one of our shirts. Wrecker’s would be too big for you and Tech is very picky about his clothing.”

“And Echo’s are specially designed to regulate his body temperature. I’d sweat to death in the first hour.” You sigh, that leaves you with two options: Hunter’s or–

“Take one of mine for the day,” Crosshair says, deciding for you as one of his shirts hits you straight in the face, “Oops, I was aiming for your chest.”

“Sharpshooter my ass.” You grumble under your breath and wait for Crosshair to turn away. The clone raises a brow, smirk on his lips as he cocks his head, gesturing for you to start changing. You give him the middle finger as he finally turns away from you, mumbling something under his breath about missing a good show.

Bastard.

You take off the shirt you’re currently wearing, nose scrunching up at the stench soaked into the fabric. You easily manage to slip your head through the neck hole but as you insert your arm into the sleeve you realise it’s much tighter than your baggier clothing, leaving you with a challenge. You eventually get both arms through but when you pull your shoulders forward a loud rip sounds through the small corner of the ship.

Crosshair’s ears twitch and his head turns a fraction to the side, not fully able to see you, “Did you just rip my shirt, cyar’ika?”

That’s a question you’re afraid to find the answer to. Nonetheless you slowly lift your arm up and wince at the slight breeze you feel on your skin. You bite down on your lip, eyes shifting to the hanger door and you wonder if you could escape without Crosshair catching you.

“Don’t even attempt it,” Crosshair huffs, “I’m going to turn around now.”

You stand frozen, holding your breath waiting for him to snap at you or worse, make a snide comment about how a ladies arms should never be bigger than a mans.

Crosshair's face holds no telltale sign of what he’s thinking as he take in the ripped fabric and the places where the hems are starting to come apart at the seams as your muscles threaten to rip the fabric even more.

His eyes go dark and he starts walking towards you, following as you take steps back until your back presses against the wall behind you. You swallow audibly, unsure of how this is going to turn out, “Crosshair? You have every right to be mad-,”

His left hand slams against the wall beside your head, palm flat on the wood whilst the other hand comes to your arm and squeezes the muscles over your shirt.

“If you wanted me to look at your arms you could have just told me and saved a good shirt from being ripped,” He chided, hand slowly trailing down your arm, “I see fear in your eyes, none of that, cyar’ika. I’m not like those osi’kovid who feel threatened by the strength of a woman.”

His legs nudge yours apart, leg slipping into the gap he created and presses his thigh against your core. His fingers slip under the bottom of your shirt – his shirt – to pull it over your head but the fabric doesn’t bunch, seemingly glued to your muscles. With an annoyed grunt Crosshair tears the shirt down the middle, no longer caring about seeing if it’s salvageable.

“A woman like you should be worshipped,” He whispers into your ear, teeth grazing against the flesh, pulling a whimper from you. He pulls back, a cocky smirk on his face before he’s dropping to his knees, “Allow me to taste you, to feel your strong thighs squeezing around my head as I bring you pleasure a true man could only hope to achieve.”

Your head is spinning; everything is happening so fast, your pussy begins gathering arousal between your folds as Crosshair breaths promises against your clothed sex. His words are unlike him, different from anything you’ve heard before. No snappish tone, only plain lust.

Of course, Crosshair is Crosshair, and the next second his eyes dance with mirth as his fingers slip under the band of your pants, “Don’t worry, I’ll be fucking that shock look off your face soon enough. Bend you over all surfaces until you're drunk on my cock, begging for more.”

[jonillaa]

hi!! can you write something about high school basketball player!jo being overprotective of his gf in front of his teammates? thank you ~~~

SLAM DUNK ┊ asakura jo

PAIRING ┊ jo x f!reader

GENRE ┊ fluff (very very slight angst if you squint)

WC ┊ 520

WARNINGS ┊ bullying , ending is kinda cringe erm.. , lowercase intended!! (lmk if i missed anything!)

SYNOPSIS ┊ being the girlfriend of your high school's heartthrob, jo, felt like a dream come true. however, the constant name-calling and teasing from his teammates began to take a toll on your self-esteem. jo, unable to bear seeing you hurt, takes matters into his own hands, even if it means quitting the team.

A/N ┊ hii did you guys miss me 😋😋 bye let’s not talk about how the title doesn’t match up with the drabble at all.. SHHHH I literally don’t know what else to put ☹️ anyways short drabble for bae jo becuz I miss him and i don’t wanna be dead anymore haha!! 😆

you never expected to be the girlfriend of the most popular guy in school, jo. he was the star basketball player, with his handsome visuals and long legs that seemed to effortlessly glide across the court. but what drew him to you was the shared art class you had together. he had always had his eyes on you, even before you started dating.

at first, being jo’s girlfriend felt like a dream. he was sweet and caring, always there to comfort and reassure you when the relentless name-calling from his fan girls got to be too much. you didn't mind it at first, but as time went on, their words slowly chipped away at your confidence.

but just when you thought things couldn't get worse, jo’s basketball teammates started picking on you. they would whisper comments about you into his ears, teasing him for dating someone like you and saying he could do better. their words hurt more than anything the fan girls could say, and it felt like a betrayal coming from his own teammates.

one day, during basketball practice, the teasing reached its peak. jo’s eyebrows furrowed with anger as he listened to his teammates' snide remarks. he had had enough. without hesitation, he walked up to you, his usually awkward demeanor replaced with a determined expression.

"hey, let's get out of here," jo said, his voice filled with a mix of protectiveness and frustration.

confused but intrigued, you followed him as he led you away from the gym and into a quieter hallway. once you were alone, jo turned to face you, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and determination.

"i can’t stand seeing them treat you like that," he confessed, his voice laced with anger. "they’re supposed to support me through everything, it makes me wanna quit the team. you deserve so much better than this."

you couldn't help but feel your heart swell at his words. his sudden overprotectiveness was both surprising and attractive to you. you had always admired his strength and skill on the basketball court, but seeing him stand up for you like this made you fall for him even more.

"i appreciate you standing up for me, jo," you replied, your voice filled with gratitude. "but i don't want you to quit because of me."

jo’s expression softened as he reached out to gently cup your face, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "i would do anything for you, even if it means giving up basketball. you mean more to me than anything else."

his words left you speechless, your heart pounding in your chest. you never expected jo to be so open and vulnerable with his feelings. it made you realize just how much he cared for you.

from that day forward, jo’s teammates never dared to say another word about you. the anger in his eyes and the determination in his voice had made it clear that he would not tolerate any more disrespect towards you. his actions spoke louder than any words could, and his teammates finally understood the depth of his feelings for you.