#also there is like no breathing room in between scenes that desperately need one

[bertoltblecht]

On Call - One

Characters - Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x OFC , Michael "Robby" Robinavitch, Frank Langdon, Dana Evans, Jack Abbot

Summary - Rose Reilly is a surgical resident specializing in trauma medicine under Drs Robinavitch and Abbot. A series of scenes involving Robby and Rose.

Word count: 1874

Rated: Mature

Tags: Angst, Mutual Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Tension, Very Light Suicidal Ideation, Sex, Mutual Pining

A/N: Hello! Sorry if you know me in real life and this is weird. Enjoy! This is already 4 chapters deep on Ao3 but I don’t want to flood tumblr like a jerk so I’ll post them over a week here to get caught up. Let me know what you think, please be gentle. Writing is someone’s emotional back window, don’t snipe me. There’s going to be some more of this, not sure how much.

—————————————————

In order to work in the emergency medical field, you have to be able to keep all your shit in neat, tidy mental boxes. Rose had taken a while to adjust to needing such thick walls between her surface emotions and the impossible frustration of their day to day lives.

She did her surgical specialization in the Pitt, trauma medicine. All the other residents conceded none of them wanted her fellowship under Dr. Robby. Idiots. Not only was he the most experienced doctor in the hospital, but he had a commitment to educating the doctors around him. He had certainly committed himself to her education.

It had been more than a crash course in emergency medicine. He’d also caved to her earnestness, her intelligence, and her desperation. He had shown her how to manage the excess of everything that built up inside her and threatened to destroy her. Robby’s boxes were taped shut, he’d been doing this long enough that even when the bones in the closet started to clamber to life, the locks stayed tight. He was impressively good at looking sad but soldiering on and Rose... felt too much for a long time.

Long before things became personal between them, Robby had looked out for her in a way she’d never had a boss look out for her. He was that way with all the people who worked with or for him, she assured herself. And he really was for the most part. After one particularly long, terrible shift, an intern told Robby that Rose was MIA for final rounds. Dana had tried to cover for the girl but pointed the senior attending subtly in the direction of the stairwell to the roof.

It wasn’t like it was high or anything. It was just the trauma center roof which was only three stories. The main hospital was taller. Furthermore, it wasn’t like Rose was thinking about that at all. Well, she was but just in the way she thought about a lot of things - theoretically. It would just be such a huge hassle for her coworkers downstairs and she’d be in, like, a ton of pain. That wasn’t at all why she’d come up here. She just knew after that shift no one would want to climb the stairs to find her and she needed to breathe. Rose needed the locker room to be empty after the shift change so she could change alone and not have to be a human being in front of everyone while they were all exposed, exhausted nerves.

“Dr. Reilly.” Hearing her name from the door wasn’t entirely what surprised her, it was the sharpness with which it left Dr. Robby. The sight of her at the railing of the roof clearly affected something in him. Rose felt something she thought might be guilt bubble up in her at having been up here and inadvertently thinking those thoughts, sending off that energy. Her head was full and sluggish and overwhelmed all at once.

Dr. Robby repeated her name again, his tone more gentle but it still made her go wide eyed for a moment all the same - just long enough that his expression softened as she turned and moved away from the railing to walk toward him.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. Dana said you were up here, you missed rounds.” His tone was light. It wasn’t a question or an accusation.

“I know, sorry. I don’t know why today got to me so badly,” Rose admitted softly. But it wasn’t just that day. It had felt like it had been creeping up on her for a while. They’d had a series of bad weeks in the trauma department. It was easy to admit she was run down that day, and the sentiment didn’t convey any of the devastation lingering just below the surface, the waves thrashing her against the rocks.

“It won’t happen again.” She sounded like she meant it, and he was inclined to believe her. For a moment though, he scrutinized her in a way that made her want to fidget nervously. It felt like having someone glance around you at your front door, peeking to see what you were hiding with the door propped open just so.

Rose lost the staring contest and dropped from his intense gaze. But he seemed satisfied that she was at least going to make it another day, so he nodded. “Try to get some rest. Good work today. I know they aren’t all easy days, but your progress and contribution here is obvious.” The sentiment sounded so genuine, it made her eyes well and her throat tightened in an annoying way.

The earnestness made her feel itchy. “Thank you, Dr. Robby. It means a lot. I’m built for this, I know I am. It’s just taking some time to…put everything in its proper place, label all the boxes to pack the trauma in.” He’d laughed at her joke and hadn’t gone back inside until she had.

After that, it was obvious that Robby was learning things about her as they went, and Rose tried not to be too aware of it. It would be ridiculous to assign too much significance to the person she spent hundreds of hours with remembering things like her tree nut allergy or knowing that if he just talked absently long enough about recent medical studies in the locker room that eventually Rose would stop picking her cuticles and staring at the wall and actually leave the building. He would even walk her to her car, keeping her from getting stuck sitting on the bench outside the ER for another hour, perpetually waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It wasn’t like she was keeping track - maybe he had a whole mental diary of things about Frank’s intricacies and tendencies. He was certainly considerate of everyone she saw him interact with. Making people feel seen was easily something he could be commended on.

Rose couldn’t honestly tell you what it was about her that pulled him in. It wasn’t like she had launched a seduction plan. She had tried not to think about how his attention felt like warm sunshine and it was easier to leave the building when he was beside her. He was married though, so Rose had kept her thoughts and hands to herself. Even when she’d overheard the nurses discussing his separation and divorce proceedings. No one had any real intel, just that they’d heard him on the phone with a divorce attorney and a real estate broker for a new apartment.

The area was deeply grey when they’d finally crossed the line. Her separated-from-his-wife senior attending had closed the gap when they were a touch past tipsy at a bar across town. They’d been stranded by an ambulance that needed to leave them behind and their shift had been over anyway. The details of how they had ended up in the bar’s bathroom sort of escaped her, but the memory of the actual event was captured in stunning technicolor in her mind’s eye.

It was so much easier to sleep after a terrible shift when Rose was well fucked and beside someone who didn’t ask her if she was okay. Sometimes Robby asked it with his eyes, but they were sides of the same coin - of course neither of them were okay.

So for a few months, they stole nights together in her studio apartment, cooking dinner, turning on an audiobook, or listening to jazz records. She took comfort in his warm, quiet presence. Especially after long days of talking endlessly to people, neither of them much wanted to communicate verbally. So they didn’t most of the time. It was easy because neither of them wanted very much from the other.

A single close call had been enough to spook him though.

Robby was in her kitchen making a mushroom risotto when the resounding crack of IKEA particle board against her skull brought him running. “Jesus, shit, fuck, ah!” she hissed, her hand going to her hairline to catch the blood from dripping down her forehead. It broke the skin of her scalp and the resulting bump was already bruised.

“Shit, what happened?” Robby asked, gently nudging her hands away to look. Rose inhaled sharply as his fingers prodded and he murmured an apology as he tipped her head up. “It hit me in the head,” she said, clenching her jaw petulantly and making him raise his eyebrows.

“You need stitches. So we get to go back to work.” He hadn’t sighed but he also couldn’t hide the weary disappointment at the direction of their evening.

The night didn’t improve from there.

Rose slipped into an unused consult room while Robby grabbed a suture tray. He’d been caught by Dana though and even though Rose couldn’t hear through the door, the look shared between them made it clear the woman had not bought whatever answer Robby gave about what was going on.

More than that, the guilty look on Robby’s face spoke volumes. When he shut the door to the consult room behind him, he was Dr. Robby her boss again. It was amazing that just a half hour prior he had been making her dinner and now… he was going to very professionally stitch up her forehead and then quietly break her heart. It was almost like she could watch it happen in slow motion. He finished up the sutures and Rose cut him off before he could say anything. “Well at least I don’t have a concussion. Means I can head home and get to bed. Don’t need to worry about not waking up like Attila the Hun…” Rose trailed off, not making a good case for the lack of concussion. “So if you want to.. also head home. I would just see you tomorrow evening for the start of overnight shifts,” she added, offering him the exit that his posture was all but begging for.

“I think Attila the Hun died of a nosebleed in his sleep,” Robby replied, tying off the last knot. “You really should get some rest and if you have a headache tomorrow take the day.”

Rose nodded, allowing a soft laugh to leave her. What was she supposed to do? Be mean to him? He was protecting himself… his career… her career. To his credit though, he didn’t just speed down the shoulder to the exit. Robby caught her gaze and heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry to just...bolt. I let myself do this without thinking it through. And that’s not fair.”

Robby wasn’t an asshole though. He drove her home, got her settled and, once she was in bed, he cleaned up the mess of half made dinner and built the offending bookcase. The finished product standing beside her couch was the only real evidence that he’d been there at all come morning. That he’d ever been there, for that matter.

Something else to pack neatly away.

They went back to the vaguely defined boundaries that existed before the bathroom hook-up. Robby was still attentive at work, and Rose kept her head down and focused on her residency. That’s what they were really best at anyway. The work.

next

[fail-fren]

Just finished episode 6 and 7 of ofmd s2 and man... I feel like after these two episodes, i sadly have to say I really don't like the writing of this season overall :(

[hoe4hotchner]

Mine | [A.H]

Pairing: Mafia!Hotch x Fem!reader | WC: 0.8k | CW: club scene, alcohol, violence.

The club pulsed with life, the bass thrumming through the floor, weaving through the low hum of conversation and the sharp clink of expensive whiskey against crystal glass. It was the kind of place where power was by who sat behind the velvet ropes—where the most dangerous men in the room never had to raise their voices to be heard. It was also the kind of place where no one touched what belonged to Aaron Hotchner.

Yet, somehow, the man standing in front of you had made that mistake.

His fingers curled around your wrist, the grip just tight enough to be possessive, just firm enough to make you uncomfortable. The stench of expensive cologne mixed with the sharp bite of whiskey on his breath as he leaned in, grinning like he had already won whatever game he thought he was playing. "C'mon, sweetheart, no need to play hard to get. I can give you a better offer than whatever you're getting now."

You didn’t have time to answer before the atmosphere shifted. The air around you seemed to still, the space behind you darkening with a familiar presence.

Then, in the space of a single breath, the man was ripped away.

Hotch moved faster than you could process, his hand wrapping around the man’s throat and slamming him against the nearest wall with a force that rattled the framed liquor displays behind the bar. Glassware trembled. Conversations cut off mid-sentence. The entire club fell silent.

“Touch her again, and I’ll break your neck.”

His voice was quiet, and controlled, but there was something in it that sent a chill down your spine—something deadly. Hotch rarely needed to make threats, not when his reputation spoke for itself, but when he did, it was never an empty promise. He could kill.

The man gasped, his fingers clawing at Hotch’s grip, his face turning an alarming shade of red. The smug confidence that had dripped from his words only seconds before had vanished completely. He knew exactly who he had just crossed, and from the way his body trembled, he also knew there was no undoing it.

Hotch leaned in slightly, his grip tightening just enough to make his point clear. “You think you can put your hands on something that belongs to me?” His words were measured, deliberate, and left no room for misinterpretation.

You should have been startled by the possessiveness in his voice, by the sheer force of his anger, but all you could focus on was the way he stood in front of you, a wall of control and fury as if there was no reality in which he would let anyone lay a hand on you and walk away unscathed.

The man gave a frantic nod, his expression somewhere between desperation and pure terror. Hotch held him there for another long moment, letting the weight of his words settle in before finally releasing his grip. The man collapsed, coughing violently as he stumbled back, eyes darting around the club as if looking for an escape route.

When no one moved to help him—when not a single person in the room dared to challenge the man who had just nearly choked him out—he scrambled toward the exit, disappearing into the crowd without so much as a backward glance.

Hotch exhaled slowly, his body still thrumming with tension as he turned to you. His eyes, sharp and dark beneath the low lighting, scanned your face before trailing down to your wrist where the man had touched you.

His jaw clenched, and before you could say anything, his fingers brushed over your skin, tracing the faint redness left behind. His touch was the opposite of what you had just endured—gentle and respectful, ensuring you weren’t hurt.

“Are you alright?” His voice had softened, but the barely contained rage still simmered beneath the surface.

You nodded, your pulse still racing. “Yeah.”

He didn’t look convinced. His fingers lingered on your wrist for a moment longer before he exhaled sharply and threaded his fingers through yours instead, his grip firm and protective. The warmth of his palm against yours sent a shiver up your spine, but it wasn’t from fear.

It should have been.

You should have been wary of a man who could snap a neck as easily as he could open a bottle of scotch, a man whose power extended into every shadowed corner of the city.

But you weren’t afraid of him. You never had been.

His hand tightened ever so slightly, his thumb brushing over the inside of your palm in a way that felt more like a promise than a simple touch. His eyes searched yours, and for a brief second, the room around you disappeared.

“Take me home,” you murmured, and the second the words left your lips, his grip on you became unshakable.

Hotch had never been the kind of man to let go of what was his.

And tonight, that included you in his bed.

[yeomongi]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬 — ᡣ𐭩

genre : PURE SMUT. mdni!!

pairing : bf!yunho x gf!reader x roommate!mingi

word count : ~1.2k

warnings : hard dom! mingi & yunho, y/n goes by she/her , degradation, names (slut, cum dump,) unprotected sex, creampie, tit job, cum eating, spanking & slapping, nipple play, begging, i feel like im forgetting something…

synopsis : when you and your boyfriend , yunho, had the apartment to yourself, you decided to take advantage of it. but things took a turn when his roommate walked in and joined you, leading you to get railed by the both of them.

note : i’m not proud of this one :c i tried to write it based off a request. i feel like i could’ve written it better but i have a killer headache rn so i gave up… anywho, i hope you enjoy , also i didn’t proofread this so i apologize for any errors! interactions & reblogs appreciated <3

the apartment was quiet, the kind of silence that made your skin prickle with anticipation. yunho’s hands were already on you, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist as he pressed you against the wall. his lips were warm, insistent, and you melted into him, your hands tangling in his hair as he deepened the kiss. his tongue slid against yours, and you could feel the heat building between you, the way his body pressed into yours, hard and demanding.

“you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and rough. his hands slid down to your hips, gripping you tightly as he ground against you, the friction making you gasp. you could feel him through his jeans, hard and eager, and you whimpered, your own hips rolling against his.

“yunho,” you breathed, your voice trembling. “please.”

he didn’t need to be told twice. his hands were on your shirt, pulling it over your head in one swift motion, and then his lips were on your neck, sucking and biting as his hands cupped your breasts. you arched into him, your fingers fumbling with the button of his jeans, desperate to feel him, to have him inside you.

he helped you, shoving his jeans and boxers down in one motion, and then he was lifting you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the couch. he laid you down gently, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at you, completely naked and vulnerable beneath him.

“you’re mine,” he growled, his hands spreading your thighs apart as he settled between them. you could feel the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance.

it was hard to focus on anything but the intense pleasure as yunho slowly pushed into you, inch by inch. his thick cock spreading your tight hole open, filling you up so deep. you couldn't help but moan loudly, back arching off the bed as he bottomed out.

"oh fuck, you're so tight around me," yunho groaned, starting to move his hips. he pulled nearly all the way out before slamming back in, starting a hard and fast pace. the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room along with your high pitched moans.

the door suddenly creaked open and we both froze. yunho still buried deep inside you as you craned your neck to see who it was. there stood mingi, looking shocked and embarrassed. "s-sorry i didn't know anyone was home, i'll just go-"

"wait," yunho growled, pulling out of you abruptly. you gasped at the sudden emptiness. mingi paused, glancing between us warily.

"we want you to stay," you said firmly, holding out a hand to him. mingi hesitated before taking it and letting you tug him closer to the bed.

"you sure?" he asked gruffly, eyeing our naked bodies with obvious lust. "don't want to mess up your scene or anything."

"oh we've got a scene for you," yunho promised darkly. "you're going to help me punish this naughty slut for being such a tease."

mingi let out a shaky moan, eyes fluttering shut. "fuck yes. i want to make her pay."

yunho smirked and smacked your ass hard, making you yelp. "on your hands and knees, slut.”

you hurried to obey, crawling onto the mattress and lowering your chest to the bed, exposing your dripping pussy and tight hole to their hungry gazes.

"such a pretty cunt," mingi purred, running a finger through your folds, making you shudder at the touch. "can't wait to fill it with my cum."

yunho chuckled darkly and grabbed your hair, forcing you to arch my back. "oh no baby, that hole is going to be full of my cum first. you're going to be my personal cumdump."

mingi nodded eagerly, helping yunho pin you down.

"yes! please use me!" you begged, writhing against their grips. "i want to be your toy…"

yunho just laughed cruelly and slammed into you, burying his cock deep in one thrust. you screamed at the sudden intrusion, walls clenching around him.

"that's it, take it!" yunho snarled, setting a brutal pace. mingi moved to lay underneath you, pressing his clothed erection against your chest.

"i'm gonna fuck these tits," he growled, spit roasting me with yunho. "gonna use them like a warm hole."

he lifted his head and captured one nipple between his teeth, biting down just shy of too hard. you cried out, tears springing to your eyes.

yunho leaned over to smack your face. "what's wrong slut? don't you like it rough?" he taunted, hips never faltering.

"yes! yes i do!" you babbled, pushing your chest against mingi's face. he moaned, scooting up so he could position himself between your tits and begin thrusting.

"you're ours now," he growled against your mouth. "our little cumdump to fill as we please."

"please!" you sobbed, back arching as you felt mingi pinch your nipple. "fill me! use me! i need it!"

they obliged readily, fucking into you from both ends. you were lost to the sensations, moaning and screaming as they used you like a toy.

soon yunho stiffened and came with a roar, flooding your pussy with his hot seed. mingi followed right after, making a mess of your tits as he painted them white.

they pulled out and forced me onto my back, each moving to straddle my head. i opened my mouth eagerly as they stroked their cocks above me.

"ready for your final loads, slut?" yunho asked cruelly, tangling his fingers in your hair. you just nodded, staring up at him with tear-filled eyes.

"beg for it then," mingi demanded, thumb rubbing over your swollen lips.

"please cum on me! mark me as yours! paint me with your cum!" you begged desperately, not even caring how eager you sounded.

they groaned and aimed their cocks at my face, stroking faster. with twin shouts they came, painting your features with thick ropes of their seed.

you just lay there panting, cum dripping down your face and chest as they caught their breath. yunho reached down to scoop some off your cheek, pushing it past your lips.

"clean up your mess," he ordered, feeding you more of their combined release. you obeyed willingly, sucking his fingers clean.

mingi just chuckled breathlessly, wiping more cum from your tits and feeding it to you as well. "fuck that was intense," he mumbled.

"s’good," you slurred, licking your lips. "when can we do it again?"

yunho smirked and leaned down to kiss you filthily. "oh baby, this is just the beginning."

[jos-emporium]

Play With Me

Part 3

Synopsis: Reader is an anal only toy for their partner who teases and punishes reader. Ends with an anal orgasm (or several) and nonverbal aftercare. 

!unspecified gender partner x !afab reader. No gendered pronouns. Included terms: “pussy”, “ass”, “cunt”, “slut”, 

Kinks: anal/anal only, nipple play, nipple biting, chest/breast smacking/spanking (barely), pussy smacking (like once), use of toys (buttplug, dildos), and strapping up

Warnings: This is fantasy with mild pushes to extremes that are unrealistic. There are check-ins between the characters in this scene. 

It had been several hours since your partner left when you began to worry. Your asshole was extremely tender from being kept open for so long and you had already reached the end of the quest in your game. So, you switched to a different game to continue killing the time. 

A short while later, you heard the front door open and shut, keys jangle, and bags being dropped to the floor. Thank fuck your partner was home. 

Eventually, your partner made their way into the room where you sat, thumbs still flicking the joystick on the controller. You were eager but also already tired. You wondered what they had in mind and hoped it included a bath after.

“Hi.” They greeted you with a kiss. 

You smiled and kissed them back. “Hey,” you replied. They rounded the bed, their eyes passing over your form, making you flush. 

“I bet your asshole is really sore after all this time. I genuinely didn’t mean to take this long, but it was supposed to be part of your punishment, so…” they trailed off and shrugged. “Tell me, are you ready for me to fuck your ass?” 

You nodded, knowing that your partner was checking in with you. Despite feeling exhausted, you still wanted it, you wanted them. You needed to feel them inside you.

Their smile was dastardly. “Good. Bend over the bed. I am going to fuck your ass. Hard. Merciless. And you aren’t going to cum until I say so. Understood?” 

You followed instructions and waited. Velcro ripped and buckles clicked, and you just knew that your partner was strapping that scary dildo into place. You took one deep breath and then another, worry and excitement flooded your body. The heat of arousal surged through your veins, setting everything alight. 

You couldn’t help the wanton moan that tumbled out when your partner ran their fingers over your bare back. Just knowing that you were about to get fucked in the ass made you fuzzy. They pressed their fingers into your ass cheeks, squeezing and kneading your flesh. 

Without much preamble, they started pulling at the toy in your ass and fucking it back into you shallowly. You groaned, shifting on the bed so that your pillow was under your hips. After a few thrusts, they gently pulled it all the way out on you and set it on the towel they had grabbed. You moaned after seeing that toy.

You were left gaping. Despite the increasingly sore muscles that needed rest, you wanted more. You needed to be filled and fucked. You craved it like you needed air to breathe. Your pussy gushed and clenched around air as you wiggled your ass in vain, desperate for any kind of stimulation. 

“Please, please. Fuck me.” You begged. Your partner only hummed. 

Fortunately, you weren’t empty long. Slowly, you were filled once again as your partner pressed the dreaded dildo into your hole. You groaned as they pushed deeper, opening your stretched out hole even more. Slowly, they pushed further and further into you. You felt that toy invade your hole and fill your stomach, stealing your breath. They were so deep inside you, your legs shook. 

With a triumphant chuckle, your partner reaches the hilt, pressing their hips firmly against yours. You panted, drool fell onto the damp comforter beneath you. “Deep, isn’t it? I bet this feels so good. I bet you feel so full.”

“Yes, it’s so deep. I’m so, so full. You feel so good inside me.” You whined, shallowly bucking your hips into theirs. “Please, please fuck me. I need it, I need it so badly.” Arousal dripped from your cunt onto the floor.

“Good toy. Begging me so nicely.” They pulled their hips back fully, the dildo nearly leaving you completely. With a sharp flick of their hips, you were full again. 

They fucked you, just like you wanted. It was hard, merciless, brutal. Each thrust was punctuated. Their hips slapped the sensitive skin of your ass. 

You were in heaven. Pleasure thrummed through your body, flooding every nerve. Every part of your body shook as your asshole was roughly fucked. You groaned a sharp exhale as the dildo poked your diaphragm. Your eyes crossed, pain and pleasure rolling through you. 

“Maybe I should lock you in chastity. I bet you’d love that. I’d leave your back hole accessible though. It’s the only good hole you have.” Your partner huffed in your ear. They leaned over your shaking form. You whined, the thought making your empty pussy gush more. 

“So messy. Such. A. Messy. Toy.” They said, each word was punctuated by a thrust of their hips. You writhed beneath them, their weight pressing against you as they fucked you harder. “You can’t get off without your ass being used, can you? You’re. Such. A. Fucking. Slut. Say it.”

You whined, words caught in the back of your throat. They kept fucking into you, forcing all the air out of your lungs. Fingers hooked into your open mouth, pulling your head back. Your ass cheeks were bruised from the harsh smacks of your partner’s thighs.   

“You want to cum, don’t you.” Your partner stated. You could only whine as they plowed into your ass. “Aww. Can’t speak? Too bad. Beg.” Your partner commanded. 

A sob tore from your lips. Your orgasm was so close. You wanted it. You needed the climax that was building. Your ass clenched around the toy. “Please. Please let me cum!” you breathed. 

“Cum you little slut.” 

Your body vibrated as you clawed at the sheets. Your orgasm ripped through your body, a cry tumbling from your lips. You bucked wildly, empty cunt humping the pillow beneath you. Your clit rubbed against it, sending shocks through you. 

Overstimulation shredded your already frayed nerves. They fucked you through your orgasm, forcing another one out of you immediately. You came again with a silent scream, eyes rolling back into your skull. Your second orgasm continued to vibrate through your body. Your asshole clamped down harder on the dildo, but it didn’t stop your partner from mercilessly pounding into you. 

You could barely regain your bearings. All the teasing from earlier in the day and two orgasms back-to-back left your mind hazy and your body lax. Your partner pulled out completely and manhandled you onto your back. 

Without pausing, they filled you once again. A scream tore from your throat, as you felt the toy poke your diaphragm once again. Your poor hole was stretched to its limit once again and railed with the savagery you could only attribute to your partner. 

Your body jostled as they fucked into you once again. Another climax blossomed at the base of your spine. It was already so close. A sharp slap fell on your cunt, and you shattered. Your holes pulsed and clenched as you shook and writhed. Your fingers ran through your hair and tangled in the sheets above your head as your back arched. Cum leaked from your hole onto the dildo continued to pump into your ass.  

After a while, your partner’s thrusts slowed. You were breathless, boneless, and so, so tired. They pulled out completely, massaging the tender skin of your ass and thighs. You felt raw, sated and high on endorphins. Heavy breaths were the only sound in the room. Hands roamed your body as your partner snuggled against you on the bed. They whispered praises against your skin. 

You cuddled your partner, giving them tiny kisses wherever you could reach without moving. You were too hoarse to speak, so tiny squeezes of their hand will have to do for now. Eventually they pulled away, padding into the bathroom. You heard water splashing in the tub and you hummed. A bath was just what you needed to ease your aching muscles. With a huff, you headed into the bathroom on shaky legs. 

The End!

<<< Previous

[zhivaoverdrive]

Filling the Void Breast Expansion and Butt Expansion via Saline Expander Implants.

But you've seen the image, too late.

Each image from the poster wall is available in full on the extras gallery, some with their own small stories.

Have fun.

----- As I pushed open the door, my eyes widened in horror. Lani lay sprawled across her bed, her body resembling a collection of medicine balls that had been inflated one too many times. Her breasts hung from her chest like overfilled water balloons, threatening to burst at any moment. 

The soft light cast by the lamp on her nightstand danced across her skin, highlighting every vein and crease as if trying to accentuate the sheer magnitude of her transformation. The implants themselves seemed to be straining against Lani's skin, like four enormous balloons about to burst at any moment.

Lani's eyes snapped towards mine, wide with surprise and shame. She looked guilty, her face flushed like a person who'd just been caught cheating. Her gaze darted around the room as if searching for a way to make this situation disappear, but the evidence was undeniable. It was like trying to hide a skyscraper behind a curtain – impossible.

I took in the scene: her already-enormous frame now straining against the seams of reality; empty saline solution bottles littering the room like discarded confetti; and Lani's body... altered, distended by the relentless stream of liquid she'd forced into it. The four orbs of saline inside her seemed to be straining against their containment, as if desperate to escape were it not for Lani's stretched skin holding on with all its might.

"It's not that big of a deal," she said, her voice laced with justification. "I'm fine. Just... just this little bit more..."

I took a deep breath before speaking. "Lani, I know we agreed monthly would be the limit," I reminded her gently.  "But you know how close you came to... complications. And yet here you are again, doing it without supervision."

Lani looked at me pleadingly, her eyes welling up with tears. "Please," she whispered, the air thickening with shame and desperation.

The shame and desperation, struggled to come to terms with being caught. AGAIN.

On one hand, I was impressed by her willingness to take control of her body and push the boundaries of what society considers "OK".

But I was also worried about how far she was taking things. Like, expanders... that's some next-level stuff.

And not just that - Lani had taken her body modification game to a whole new level by having expanders in her butt as well.

I couldn't help but wonder what kind of discomfort she must be going through with those things implanted in her backside. And yet...part of me couldn't help but admire her spirit.

I get that Lani wanted to change herself, but this was just crazy. "You're not even trying to hide what you're doing," I said, shaking my head in amazement. "You're trying to turn yourself into a human balloon or something!"

But as soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I had spoken too bluntly.

"You're using expanders like they're some kind of...I don't know, saline-filled superpower or something!" I said, trying to lighten my tone.

"I just need this one more time," she said quietly, her voice filled with reverence.  "I promise I'll slow down after this. It's not like..."

She trailed off, looking down at the floor as if embarrassed by her own words. But that did not last long.

Lani gazed up at the posters on her wall. Her gaze lingered on the statuesque figures, their bodies seemingly defying gravity itself - their breasts rose up from their chests like mountains, butts jutted out far behind them.

"Look at them," Lani said quietly, her voice filled with awe and longing. "They're doing it... Just look at them - so many people adore them, that one's been on TV!"

As Lani admired these perfect forms of femininity, the competing idea inside of her believed she was still the waifish girl she'd been years ago stewed. Trapped between two conflicting realities unable to be reconciled.

"And honestly, what's another litre of saline when you're already..."

I didn't push her for more. Another unnecessary question. A different tack was in order.

"Lani, baby," I said carefully,

"You've never removed ANY saline before. I'm not even exactly sure if we can. What if this is a one-way process without going back to the doctor..."

Her eyes dropped, and she nodded slowly. "I know, but what's the worst that could happen? You'll still l-" "Ah," I interrupted her, trying to sound more reassuring than concerned. "The weight of... well, let me ask you this: how much saline are we talking about here?"

Lani looked down at her chest, a sheepish expression spreading across her face. "I've got 10 litres in each boob.."

My eyes widened in shock. Ten litres per implant? That was... that was a lot of saline. A lot more than last time.

"And?" I prompted, trying to keep my tone light despite the gravity of the situation.

Lani faltered for a moment before she spoke up again. "And... um... well, I might have also exceeded 10 litres in each butt cheek."

My jaw dropped. She couldn't be serious. Could she?

"Lani," I said softly, trying to keep my tone gentle despite the shock and concern I was feeling. "You're telling me that you've got a total of 40,000cc saline forced in your body?"

Lani nodded sheepishly, her face flushing with embarrassment.

I glanced at Lani's ass and saw the telltale signs of strain: deep creases in her skin, fine lines tracing the contours of each implant, and an eerie sheen that hinted at stretchmarks. Her veins stood out like blue highways, pulsing with effort as they struggled to deliver oxygen to her skin.

"The weight of this much saline is crushing you," I said firmly. "You've already been struggling with everyday tasks for months now. You're going to continue to struggle even more as time goes on. Your body simply can't keep up."

Lani's gaze faltered as she tried to consider the consequences of her actions.

"What does the future hold?" I continued. "Don't even get me started on trying to cook dinner or do laundry. You're being short-sighted! What happens when you can't even get out of bed in the morning?"

The silence between us grew thick with unspoken understanding – a tacit agreement that more caution was needed, but also a recognition that we were both too afraid to seek help.

She nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving mine.

"You're right," she said quietly. "I'll need you".

[junkpuppet225]

note: part 6, and scene! 🥵 If you need me I’ll be taking a cold shower. Smut! Yay! strong language and one intense back rub - enjoy! Also thanks for all the awesome feedback- you’re amazing!

The look on Daryl’s face as you stand at his bedroom door that night is hard to describe. Confusion laced with desire and maybe even a hinge of regret. He’s a complicated man.

“Thought ya took that shit back to Olivia.” He mutters, letting his gaze fall to whatever’s in your hand. “Oh, this isn’t for you Dixon.” You assure pushing your way into his bedroom without an invitation as you hand him the tube of lotion and make your way to his bed.

He’s still standing at the door gaping at you as you sit down and pull your oversized shirt over your head. Despite holding the soft material against your breasts he drops the lotion to his feet. “Yer not really gonna make me do this, right?”

The smile you give him sends an ache through the center of his chest as you nod your head, gathering your hair in your hands to pull it to one side of your neck as you wait for him to join you. Hell yeah he’s doing this.

Daryl is still standing at his bedroom door with the tube of lotion you confiscated from the supply Rosita is hoarding at his feet, blue eyes wide and chest unmoving. He’s stopped breathing and although you don’t want him to pass out you don’t really care.

He’s doing this.

You’re not mad at him for keeping his healed shoulder a secret for a few days, you knew it was better by his body language anyway but you do plan on being compensated for your trouble. Plus you’re desperate to feel his hands on you.

…and your neck is still sore from holding it at the wrong angle while working on his motorcycle - AND he ruined your favorite shirt driving through those mud puddles on your ride today so yes, he’s doing this.

You try to hide your smile from him as you remember earlier - both covered in mud and laughing like idiots as you stepped into Carol’s clean kitchen - getting chased off to the showers by the deadly woman. You swear you saw Daryl hesitate for a second before heading to a separate shower and you’ve spent the rest of the evening imagining if he hadn’t.

You snap your head to the left and meet Daryl’s wide eyes, watching him snatch the lotion from the floor and take a small step towards you. “Y/N…,” Your eyes soften as your name rushes from his lungs, he’s stopped moving again with a foot of space still between you. “Not sure how you’re going to do this all the way over there.” Is all you say.

By the time Daryl baby steps his way to the edge of the bed he’s growling low in his throat and you idly wonder if he really doesn’t want to do this. When you outed him for cashing in on extra back rubs he agreed to return the favor idly hoping you’d never mention it again. There’s no fucking way he’s going to be able to touch you like this without losing his fucking mind. A frown forms on your lips as you raise your eyes to him, stopping at the impressive bulge already growing in his sweat pants for only a split second before meeting his gaze. You press your shirt into your chest to try and keep your heart from leaping from your body.

“A deals a deal, Dixon.” You’re not letting him out of this without a fight and to your surprise and possible utter horror he sinks down to the mattress behind you and pops open the tube, squeezing a small amount of lotion on his rough palms and rubs them together - making you find your smile, patiently waiting for him to begin.

“Fuck, this smells good. Hell of a lot better than what you were usin’ on me.”

Your eyes roll but you don’t bother mentioning his was a medicated menthol cream to relieve sore muscles and yours is just a nearly empty tube of expensive vanilla scented lotion with no other purpose other than to make him extremely uncomfortable.

“Right? I thought I was going to have to cat fight with Rosita to borrow it. She has like four different ones in her room.” Daryl swallows a groan as the image of you and Rosita going at it flashes in his head suddenly. Fuck.

He still hasn’t touched you, watching you with a pained expression as you scoot back on the bed until you’re settled between his thighs with his palms hovering over your shoulders nervously.

Kissing you was one thing, a thing neither of you have mentioned since it happened but this… “f-fuck”, he swallows hard and finally places his warm hands against your skin - moving his thumbs in small careful circles. Thirty seconds in and he’s pulling away from you quickly, assuring you he kept his word as you turn your head and glare at him. “Seriously?!” Daryl can only stare at you holding his breath to keep out the way the vanilla lotion mixes with your own sweet scent - silently begging his dick to go away. A puff of exasperation rushes from your lungs as you turn your back to him and begin gathering your shirt in your hands to put it back on.

It’ll be a cold day in hell before you rub his back again, which isn’t true at all. Daryl Dixon could order you to crawl to him and you’d fall to your knees without question - but he doesn’t need to know that. Just as you’re about to pull your shirt over your head you feel his rough hands against the nape of your neck again - working the tense muscles loose as he brings you closer to his chest.

“T-there you go.” The archer only growls in response, causing you to giggle at his ire as you assure him after this you’ll be square. The only problem is he doesn’t want to be square with you so he plans on giving you the best fucking back massage of your life so you’ll continue this tit for tat shit forever.

He can do this. It’s just rubbing your back for a few minutes. Surely you don’t expect him to do it for as long as you did? Putting him to sleep like a fucking baby for the past week. He focuses on the curve of your neck as his fingers dig into your tight muscles - receiving a soft groan in approval that makes his cock jerk in his sweatpants. “…f-fuck me.” He growls, tightening his hands along your back as your head falls forward and he focuses on the freckles that dot your shoulder. “Hmm?”

“N-nothin’.” His voice cracks like he’s a teenager causing you to giggle softly before you’re groaning from his touch again and just like when he was a teenager he’s begging any god that will listen to keep him from coming in his fucking pants.

Only a few more minutes and you’ll be satisfied, he assures himself - eyes closing with his own muffled groan as you sink further into his chest. You’re nearly in his lap now, the hair that always falls into his eyes brushing against the back of your neck as he bows his head and really begins to pray.

His hands slow as they grasp at your rutting hips, thumbs kneading into your lower back as your breath catches in your throat making him press his face to the back of your head - quietly begging you to stop squirmin’. “S-sorry…, feels really good…” Eight seconds more is all he can take. “Goddamnit Y/N…”

You’re entire body is humming with pleasure as Daryl growls at your back, letting his skilled fingers drop between you as a soft sigh of satisfaction rushes from your parted lips and you turn your face to thank him.

You lift your eyes to his slowly, pupils blowing wide as you meet his dark gaze that sends a shiver of pleasure straight to your core. There’s a storm brewing in these ocean eyes as he watches you - fighting, and losing an inner battle with himself as you let your gaze wash over him. From his dark unruly hair that falls over his forehead back to his tortured gaze, lingering on his parted lips as they take in deep needed breaths that make his chest rise quickly. You idly hear your name roll off his tongue with a deep growl as you continue down his torso, appreciating the way his worn t-shirt clings to his abs - riding up just enough to expose that soft patch of hair that disappears under the band of his sweatpants. The room is to quite, the rush of your labored breaths matching his as he straightens his back and closes the space between the two of you slowly - afraid if he moves to suddenly you’ll disappear like a doe he’s tracking, his eyes dilated and full of desire as brushes a hand against your jaw - sinking rough fingers into your hair then sliding them to the back of your neck, bringing your lips to his.

When he kisses you it feels like you’ve been struck by lightening - brining you to life as you clutch your shirt against your chest with one hand and rake the other into the back of his hair, moaning into his mouth as he pulls you forward so you can straddle his lap.

You stopped at his happy trail when you were ogling him a moment ago, afraid of what you may find if your eyes kept going but now you can feel every thick inch of him against the thin material of your lounge shorts making you sink into him further as he tightens his fingers in your hair - his tongue never leaving your mouth.

Neither of you mentioned the kiss you shared in the quiet of Aaron’s garage eariler, chalking it up to too much testosterone surrounded by power tools and gasoline but this kiss is nothing like that kiss. This kiss is desperate and pleading, it’s sloppy and demanding and the groan that escapes Daryl’s throat is damn near primal as he jerks his face from yours quickly - pulling air into his spent lungs. You rest your forehead against his as you try to catch your breath - mind racing as his lips graze yours and your fingers sink into his hair.

“Daryl?”

He’s back to grunting like a caveman, still out of breath with his eyes closed tightly. Whatever you say next will break him either way, making him grasp at your rutting hips as they grind slowly against him - chasing that incredible friction that’s making it hard to breathe.

“Do you…, w-want to?” You can only hope he’s picking up what you’re putting down because despite how good this feels your chest is flooding with anxiety - heart hammering at the idea of being with him. Daryl’s still losing that inner battle, he knows if this goes any further there’s no coming back from it but if he stops now there will be no living with himself.

“Y-yeah.” He finally grunts, the word lingering in the air a moment longer before you’re kissing him again. This time you don’t stop - letting your discarded shirt fall away as he reaches behind himself and pulls his own over his head the way guys do - keeping his eyes locked on yours as you lean back to slide your shorts down your legs.

When you’re laid back before him completely exposed - cheeks flushed pink and breathing hard he crawls to his knees before you and leans into your kiss, working his sweatpants off with one hand as the other grasps at your waist - rough palm gripping soft skin as he brushes his thumb along the swell of your breast, swallowing your soft moans. Fuck, he’s not gonna last ten seconds inside of you - fisting his now freed cock in his right hand as you allow yourself a quick peek - eyes going wide as his eyebrows pull together in concern. “W-what?” He follows your gaze to his hand - his right thumb mirroring his left as he brushes it over the wide head slick with his own desire - swallowing his own groan.

“You’re r-really big.”

“Fucking hell, Y/N…” Daryl whimpers, a sharp - strangled noise as his dick jerks in his hand. Ten seconds inside of you would have been a prayer answered but he’ll be lucky to last two now. The emotion that fills your chest as he lifts his pleading eyes to yours is nearly your undoing, grasping the back of his hair as you bring him to your parted lips and beg him to go slow before crashing your mouth to his. Daryl groans into your kiss, running the head of his cock along your soaked slit as that strangled noise rushes from his chest again and he sinks into you, causing your nails to dig into his shoulders as your head falls back to the bed with a gasp.

“…f-fuck…” You’re so fucking tight he has to slow his thrusts so you can stretch around him - wide eyes watching carefully as he gives you another inch. “…you alright?” The words are barely audible as he pushes further - bringing a deep moan from your chest as your eyes close and he brings his face down to yours. “…u-use your words…, don’t want t’hurt ya…” Another soft moan rushes from your lungs as you nod your head and whisper how good it feels.

“…fuck yeah it does…, takin’ me so good…”

Your nails rake into the back of his hair, causing his own groan to pass between you as he begins to move - sinking into you deeply as he kisses a wet trail down your neck, cussing against your jugular as you tighten further around him. You are completely void of all coherent thought as his teeth graze your throat - thrusting into you with desperate grunts as fireworks detonate behind your eyes, bringing your back off the bed as he slides an arm under your hips and fucks into you deeply.

When he lifts his eyes to yours again he’s taken back at how beautiful you are, pupils blown wide before closing tightly - nails biting into his back as the prettiest sounds fall from your lips. Daryl groans your name against your throat, bruising your hips with his calloused hands. “…m’gonna cum…” You bring his face back to yours, kissing his parted lips before pleading for him to come inside of you. “…f-fuck…” He does just that - emptying himself deep as he rests his forehead against yours and tries to pull air into his lungs.

“…t-that was…”

There’s too many words in the English dictionary to describe what that was but he mumbles an appropriate adjective against your temple as you sink a hand into the back of his hair, raking your fingers into the strands in that perfect way that has his eyes growing heavy a moment later.

“…will ya stay in here with me tonight?” Daryl manages to say, each word coming out slower than the last as you nod and bring his head to your chest - your racing heart and soothing fingers lulling him into a deep post-orgasm sleep.

X

You wish you could say you and Daryl lived Happily Ever After after that first night together but the second thing you’ve learned in this dying world is Daryl Dixon is as loyal as he is stubborn so just like you said, he eventually goes back to being Rick’s right hand - putting himself in the middle of the danger for the good of the group but every now and then, when he meets your eyes from the rim of your early morning coffee cup you know you hold his heart in your hands.

…and anytime he needs one of your world famous massages all he has to do is ask.

[domm1etae]

Possession

welcome to domm1etae's kinktober day 1 : SIZE KINK

hongjoong x f!reader

2.7k

when Y/N gets too close to a friend at a gathering, Hongjoong’s quiet jealousy simmers beneath the surface, leading to an intense confrontation as soon as they’re alone

nsfw tags under

m/f, top hongjoong, bottom reader, vaginal sex, rough sex, dominance, submission, size kink, possession, jealousy, dirty talk, power play, manhandling, orgasm control, claiming kink, breath play, control, pet names, kissing

Requests OPEN! - let me know through the ask button if you have any requests for this Kinktober

author's note: this was suggested by @arki-sha in my comments. here is the original prompt:

Possessive!Hongjoong + Size Kink I really think that HJ would really go feral if his partner is someone who is smaller than him like he would really use their size difference to his advantage since he can't use it that often to others since he is usually much shorter and smaller than his members.

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Y/N could tell something was off with Hongjoong the moment they arrived at the gathering. He was quiet, almost too quiet, which was unusual for him. She knew him well enough to sense when something was brewing beneath the surface. But Hongjoong wasn’t the type to cause a scene in front of others—he held his emotions close to his chest until they were alone.

The night went on, and Y/N found herself laughing along with one of their friends, a guy she’d known for years. He had a harmless charm about him, always cracking jokes and lightening the mood. She nudged him playfully when he made some ridiculous comment, not thinking twice about it—until she caught a glimpse of Hongjoong from across the room.

His eyes were on them, sharp and unblinking, his jaw set in a tight line. Y/N’s stomach flipped. She hadn’t meant to upset him, but she could feel the jealousy radiating off him in waves. Hongjoong was possessive by nature, especially when it came to her. He wasn’t controlling, but the idea of someone else getting too close to her—especially another man—always triggered something primal in him.

Throughout the rest of the evening, Y/N tried to engage Hongjoong in conversation, hoping to smooth things over, but he remained distant. His replies were short, and the tension between them grew thicker with each passing minute. She could see it in the way his eyes darkened every time the other guy spoke to her, the way his hand gripped his glass just a little too tight.

She knew he was holding back, but she also knew that once they were alone, he wouldn’t hold back anymore.

As soon as they said their goodbyes and got into the car, the silence was suffocating. Y/N glanced over at Hongjoong, trying to read his expression, but he was staring straight ahead, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel.

“Joong, are you okay?” she asked softly, already knowing the answer.

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he didn’t respond. Then, in a voice low and rough, he said, “Do I look okay?”

Y/N bit her lip, feeling a mix of guilt and apprehension. She hadn’t meant to make him jealous, but she also knew there was no point in trying to defend herself right now. Hongjoong’s possessiveness had taken over, and once that switch was flipped, there was only one way it would end.

The ride home felt like it stretched on forever, and the second they stepped through the front door, Hongjoong’s hand was on her wrist, pulling her towards him with a firm, almost desperate grip.

“We need to talk,” he growled, his eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and something darker, something possessive.

Y/N’s heart raced as she nodded, letting him lead her into the living room. His body was tense, his movements sharp, and she could feel the weight of his jealousy pressing down on her like a storm about to break.

“Do you have any idea what you were doing tonight?” Hongjoong’s voice was low, but there was an edge to it that made Y/N’s pulse quicken. He released her wrist and began pacing in front of her, running a hand through his hair in agitation. “Laughing with him, touching him like that—do you think I wouldn’t notice? Do you think I wouldn’t care?”

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but the words got stuck in her throat. She knew trying to explain herself would only make things worse. Instead, she swallowed hard and tried to keep her voice calm. “Joong, I didn’t mean anything by it. We were just talking.”

“Talking?” he spat the word like it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He stopped pacing and turned to face her, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “You were practically all over him, Y/N. And he was eating it up, wasn’t he? Acting like he had a chance.”

Y/N shook her head, her voice soft but firm. “He’s just a friend. You know that.”

Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer, towering over her. “I don’t care,” he muttered, his voice low and dangerous. “I don’t want him or anyone else that close to you. You’re mine, Y/N. Only mine.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as he closed the distance between them, his hand sliding up to cup her face, his touch gentle but his grip firm enough to let her know he wasn’t playing around. His thumb brushed over her lower lip, his eyes dark and full of that possessive heat that always made her heart race.

She could feel the tension rolling off him in waves, a storm of jealousy and desire swirling just beneath the surface. Her heart pounded in her chest, knowing what was coming next, knowing that Hongjoong wasn’t just angry—he was possessive in a way that made her feel both vulnerable and exhilarated.

“Do you have any idea what it does to me,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “to see someone else touching you? Even just for a second?”

Y/N couldn’t tear her gaze away from him, her pulse quickening under the intensity of his stare. “Joong…”

His fingers slid down her neck, wrapping lightly around her throat. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make her feel small, completely at his mercy. “Do you know what I was thinking about the whole time?” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. “I was thinking about how I’m the only one who gets to touch you like this. How no one else can make you feel the way I do.”

Y/N’s knees felt weak as his hand tightened just a little, his grip commanding and possessive. She could feel the heat of his body pressing against hers, the intensity of his jealousy driving him to take control, to remind her who she belonged to.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling with anticipation.

His eyes darkened, and a slow, predatory smile tugged at his lips. “Oh, you will be.”

Before she could react, Hongjoong’s lips crashed against hers, the kiss hard and possessive, his hands moving to grip her hips, pulling her flush against him. His fingers dug into her skin, not painful but insistent, as if he needed to feel every inch of her under his control.

Y/N melted into the kiss, her hands gripping his shoulders as his possessiveness fueled the fire between them. She could feel his jealousy in every movement, every rough touch, as if he was trying to erase the memory of anyone else being close to her.

Without breaking the kiss, Hongjoong pushed her backwards, guiding her towards the bedroom. His lips never left hers, his hands wandering over her body with a kind of urgency that made Y/N’s head spin. The second they reached the bed, he pulled away, leaving her breathless and dazed as he stood over her, his chest heaving.

“You’re everything to me, Y/N,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “No one else gets to have you like this.”

Y/N could barely breathe as she watched him, her body trembling with anticipation. She knew what was coming, and the thought sent a shiver of excitement down her spine. Hongjoong wasn’t just going to make love to her—he was going to claim her, to remind her of her place in his arms.

He undressed quickly, his movements sharp and precise, and within moments, he was standing over her, fully bare. Y/N’s eyes widened as she took him in, the sight of his body making her pulse race. Hongjoong wasn’t the biggest man physically, but right now, with the intensity in his eyes and the way he loomed over her, he felt massive.

He crawled over her, his body pressing her into the mattress as he pinned her wrists above her head. “You’re so tiny beneath me,” he murmured, his voice full of dark satisfaction. “Perfectly made for me.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as she felt his hands roaming over her body, his touch rough and possessive. Every stroke of his fingers sent a thrill through her, reminding her of just how much control he had over her in this moment.

“Hongjoong,” she whimpered, her body arching towards his touch.

He smirked down at her, his eyes gleaming with that same possessive heat. “You crave this, don’t you?” he growled, his hand sliding between her thighs, teasing her until she was trembling beneath him. “You want to feel how much I want you.”

Y/N could only nod, her voice lost in a soft moan as he continued to tease her, driving her to the brink of madness with every touch. She loved the way he made her feel—small, vulnerable, and utterly claimed.

Hongjoong’s fingers ghosted over her skin, teasingly slow as he traced the curve of her waist, then down to her thighs. His eyes never left hers, dark with desire and something more primal, more intense. He relished this—loved seeing her smaller frame beneath him, her body completely at his mercy, helpless to whatever he decided to do next. Y/N’s breath was ragged, each teasing touch driving her closer to the edge, and he knew it. He was enjoying every second of it, watching her squirm under his control.

“Damn, you look irresistible like this,” he murmured, voice deep and rough, his thumb brushing the inside of her thigh, just shy of where she desperately wanted him. “I could lose myself in you, baby.”

Y/N whimpered, her hips shifting involuntarily as she tried to press herself closer to his hand, but he held her down firmly. The look on his face was all dominance, all control. She was his, and he was going to make sure she knew it—every inch of her.

Her mind was spinning, thoughts scattered as her body reacted to every brush of his fingertips. She had never felt so small, so overwhelmed by his presence, and yet it thrilled her to the core. The way Hongjoong looked at her, like she was the only thing in his world, filled her with an intoxicating mix of desire and submission. His jealousy had transformed into something powerful, something that made her feel utterly consumed by him.

“Joong, please…” Y/N’s voice was barely a whisper, pleading, but she couldn’t help it. She needed more—needed him to take her completely, to feel him inside her, filling her, claiming her.

His lips curled into a smirk at her desperation, and he leaned down, his breath hot against her ear. “You want me to give you everything, huh?” he teased, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “What if I want to make you wait a little longer?”

Y/N shuddered, her breath catching as his lips brushed her ear. “You know what you do to me,” she breathed, her body aching for him.

Hongjoong chuckled darkly, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. “Trust me, I know. And I can’t get enough of it. You’re the only one I want to see like this.” He leaned in closer, his voice lowering. “I want to remind you that no one else can touch you the way I do.”

Without warning, he pushed her legs apart, settling himself between them, his hands gripping her hips with a possessive force that made her gasp. He loved seeing her like this—vulnerable, exposed, completely under his control. His cock was hard, pressing against her entrance, and he took a moment to savor the look on her face, the way her body trembled with anticipation.

“I don’t want you looking at anyone else,” Hongjoong murmured, his lips brushing her neck, kissing, biting softly. “You’re mine, Y/N. Just mine.”

“I know,” she whimpered, her body arching into him, desperate for him to move. “I’m yours, Joong.”

“Good girl,” he muttered, his voice sending a shiver down her spine. And with that, he thrust into her, hard and deep, stretching her in a way that made her gasp, her body tensing as he filled her completely.

Y/N’s head fell back against the pillow, her breath catching in her throat as Hongjoong settled himself fully inside her. The stretch was overwhelming, the feeling of him so deep that it made her toes curl. He didn’t give her time to adjust, though—his hands gripped her hips tightly, holding her in place as he started moving, slow at first, but each thrust deliberate, calculated.

“You feel that?” he growled, his eyes locked on hers, his voice low and rough. “That’s me reminding you how much you mean to me.”

Y/N could only moan in response, her body reacting instinctively to the way he took her, each thrust pushing her closer and closer to the edge. She felt so small beneath him, so helpless, and the way Hongjoong’s body pressed down on hers made her feel completely owned. He wasn’t just fucking her—he was claiming her, marking her as his.

With each movement, Hongjoong’s jealousy seemed to fuel his desire, his pace picking up, rougher, more insistent. He thrust deep into her, each motion filling her completely, the size difference between them only heightening the intensity. She couldn’t escape the way he filled her, couldn’t escape his hold, and that thought alone sent waves of heat through her.

“Joong—” Y/N gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he thrust harder, her mind a blur of pleasure and need.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he demanded, his voice a low growl, his pace relentless. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m yours,” she breathed, her voice trembling with the intensity of it all. “Only yours.”

A dark, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips as he heard the words he wanted. “That’s what I like to hear,” he murmured, leaning down to capture her lips in a bruising kiss. His hand slid down her body, teasingly slow, before it found its way between her legs. His fingers brushed against her clit, and Y/N cried out, her body arching into him as he started to rub slow circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The combination of his cock thrusting deep inside her and the pressure on her clit sent her spiraling. Her moans grew louder, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps as Hongjoong pushed her closer to the edge.

“You’re loving every second of this, aren’t you?” he muttered, his voice rough as he watched her fall apart beneath him. “You love how I make you feel—like you’re the only one in the world.”

Y/N couldn’t respond—she was too overwhelmed, her body trembling with pleasure as Hongjoong continued to thrust into her, his fingers working her clit with precision. She was so close, so close she could feel the tension building inside her, ready to snap at any moment.

“Come for me,” Hongjoong growled, his voice commanding as his pace quickened. “Come for me, baby. Show me how much you need me.”

That was all it took. With a loud, broken moan, Y/N’s body tensed, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her walls clenched around him, and Hongjoong cursed under his breath, his thrusts becoming erratic as her body milked him.

The sight of her coming undone beneath him, so small and helpless under his control, sent Hongjoong over the edge. With a deep, guttural groan, he thrust into her one last time, burying himself as deep as he could as he spilled inside her, claiming her in every sense of the word.

For a moment, they stayed like that, both of them breathing heavily, their bodies pressed together as the waves of pleasure slowly ebbed away. Hongjoong’s hands loosened their grip on her hips, his touch becoming softer, more tender as he gently pulled out of her and collapsed beside her on the bed.

Y/N’s body was still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm, her mind hazy with satisfaction. She turned her head to look at Hongjoong, and to her surprise, his eyes were soft now, the earlier fire of jealousy replaced by something gentler.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from her face before leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. “You’re mine,” he whispered, the possessiveness still there but tempered by affection. “Always.”

Y/N smiled, her body relaxing into the warmth of his embrace. “Always,” she echoed, feeling utterly content in his arms.

[cherimoyatea]

hello hi! ik the fandom mostly favors interactions between LIs & MCs/Readers but i was wondering if you have your own ideas between the LADS boys like friendship headcanons between them? how their dynamic works and which would be the best bros with each other or strongest siblings rivalry vibes between them (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

hopefully this is alright to request! 🙏🏻

Hi Annonie!

Thank you for your request! I saw the wonderful @irandial already sharing her thoughts on the same request, and I couldn't agree more with her on the boys! But since you asked I'll also drop some headcanons 🤭

I've always imagined what their life would be like if they happened to share a house and how their dynamics would play out, so I'll set the scenario based on your request.

Remember, these are headcanons and just for fun 🩷

❧ The LaDs Men as Friends - Shared house edition

He's the loudest—always getting on everyone's nerves with his antics and pouty demands. Rafayel will block the bathroom for hours with his extensive baths and beauty routines: Since he's basically a fish on land, he's super cautious about keeping his skin hydrated.

Imagine him opening the bathroom door in a bathrobe, with a face mask on and a bowknot keeping his purple bangs off his forehead, as he yells at the other guys: ''I'm gonna burn y'all in your sleep if ya don't stop knocking on the damn door!!'' Then he slams the door shut, locks it again, and puts his Airpods on full blast, while the others continue to desperately hammer against the bathroom door, needing to use the toilet.

Rafayel pretends to be annoyed by everyone in his household and murmurs''These silly humans...'' while also using his evol and wielding his dagger to protect his friends without hesitation whenever they run into trouble. Though they get on his nerves sometimes, he wouldn't want it any other way.

Xavier is in a constant catfight with Rafayel for always eating his cheesesticks behind his back. In general, he's the one who constantly empties the fridge and eats everyone's snacks and food. Even Zayne can't help but let out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in disbelief, when he finds another empty cookie package in the cabinet—for the third time this week. And its only Tuesday.

Whenever Xavier isn't busy snacking, his friends usually find him either reading a book or napping in the most unusual places around the house, giving them daily heart attacks. Once, Sylus almost spilled his drink when he tripped over Xavier's sleeping form, curled up on the soft, fluffy carpet in the dimly lit hallway. ''Uhh... I'm not quite sure how I ended up sleeping on the floor... it just looked so comfy here and the stairs to the bedroom seemed like too much effort…'' He rubs his neck sheepishly and gets up with a yawn, while Sylus taps his foot impatiently, shaking his head at the silver-blond.

Definitely the ''mom'' of the friend group. He takes care of everyone's well-being while occasionally cracking one of his dry jokes, causing an awkward silence in the room. Surprisingly, nobody feels called out when he scolds his friends for eating too much junk food or staying up too late. ''Rafayel, where are your slippers? The floor is cold—at least wear some socks.'' And the Lemurian? He rolls his eyes and mumbles something under his breath but eventually gets up to grab some socks from his room.

Zayne always has an open ear for his friends. Whenever someone needs to get something off their chest, they approach the Doctor, and he genuinely tries to comfort them. ''Xavier… I don't think Sylus hates you for accidentally poisoning him with your tiramisu. However. Make sure to remember that dishes with raw eggs need to be refrigerated…''

He's the one who would probably get along with everyone, giving off protective big-brother vibes. He mostly watches his friends quietly from the background with an amused smirk, shaking his head at Rafayel causing a scene over someone spilling his paint, Xavier serving a suspicious-looking tiramisu, or Zayne gathering the others laundry from the floor with a frown. ''Doc, are you sure you want to touch that? I remember seeing the fish doing... unholy things with those socks.'' Sylus says with a mischievous grin, earning a dead stare from Rafayel. ''Hold up! I did WHAT?!''

He just loves teasing these idiots.

But Sylus is also the life of the party and always up for a night out with his friends. The guys had a blast at the karaoke bar once when Sylus was drunk enough to wholeheartedly sing Miley Cyrus' Wrecking Ball. Of course, Rafayel recorded the whole show and teased him the next morning while the silver-haired man had the worst hangover ever. ''Listen, Fish... I'm adding a cat to this household if you don't delete that NOW!''

[yanderefarm]

I NEED ares oiled up in blood/j

Finding ares mid kill tho 🙏🙏🙏

finding ares mid kill

cw;; violence, blood, yandere tendencies, minor gore

technically we've already found ares mid kill or well mid disposal and the fallout of that. so i wrote this with the idea that darling is into the murder or used to it by now. also this is what made me finally take no blood/gore off my dont request list. i keep writing bloody gorey stuff so like I can't expect you not to ask for it

you two definitely killed her together and then had bloody messy sex right there even with ares injury. full yandere mode ares is a full freak he'd give you his dead eyed gaze with hearts in his eyes while he rides you. he doesn't care he's bleeding, infact he'd be so thrilled to cover you in his blood.

a familiar scene was playing out, you opened the door of your house and there was ares in the doorway covered in blood. his eyes were dark, almost lifeless and they hadn't seemed to register your presence yet. his shirt had been ripped open exposing his ample chest which had also been coated in blood. you didn't see the body, instead there was a trail of blood from the door through the house.

you realized suddenly that the person ares had been killing was trying to escape. you didn't have time to stop and make sure your wife was ok instead you bolted down the hall past him. you followed the blood trail in a panic, following it to the laundry room. it looked like the person was hiding behind the washer based on how it had been pushed out. you calmed your breathing and you could hear them desperately trying to hold in theirs. definitely behind the washer.

you grabbed the large bottle of detergent as your best makeshift weapon as you made your way to the washer slowly. you looked behind the machine... it was one of your coworkers. she immediately recognized you so she threw herself into your arms.

"your-your partner is try-trying to kill me!" she shouted, tears falling down her cheeks.

"what are you doing?" ares was standing like a husk in the doorway. he was definitely hurt based on the way he was clutching his side.

"you-you monster!" she screamed trying to hide herself behind you.

"not you." he sounded so distant like he wasn't completely with you right now. he dragged his body deeper into the room.

"honey..." your brows furrowed watching him stumble. "what's going on?"

"why are you hugging her? why are you-" he stumbled again this time grunting in pain. you watched as tears started to drip from his emotionless eyes.

you looked down at your coworker, her arms wrapped around your middle. the only notable wound on her was a large gash in her shoulder. your eyes wandered to the bottle of laundry detergent in your hand. that wasn't enough, you needed the knife still dangling in ares's hand.

"i don't know why she's hugging me." your face twisted to one of disgust. "she's making me sick."

before she could fully register your words you grabbed her by her shoulder. she screamed loudly. you shoved her to the middle of the room where she fell on her back at ares's feet. ares looked down at her before looking at you again.

"what did she tell you, honey?" you looked back at him earnestly, your worry written all over your face.

"... she said... you two had drinks. and there's a picture on her phone of her all over you. isn't that why you abandoned me? to run to your lover?" his voice was full of pain and he was swaying on his feet.

"yeah we all got drinks together after work, i told you about it. she threw herself at me then too." you let out a heavy sigh and stepped forward towards him.

you closed the distance between you two slowly until your foot met the girl still on the floor. you scrunched up your face in disgust. you pressed your foot against her leg and added your body weight until you heard the sickening snap of her leg breaking. she screamed even louder than before her body writhing in pain. the sound seemed to snap ares back to himself and he looked at you with glossy eyes.

"honey?" you asked offering a hand to him.

"y/n..." he blushed a little bit as he reached out the hand with the knife still in it to you. you dragged him over to your side, letting him use your body to help himself stand up.

"honey do you think you could guide me? I'll finish this up and then patch you up." you gave him a chaste kiss.

his eyes went dark again but this time there were hearts in his eyes. his face was red and he squirmed like he did when he was turned on and trying to hide it. "let's do it together ♥"

[reiderwriter]

Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You🃏

Chapter 1 of That's What You Get

Next Chapter

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Summary: After three weeks on a case in Vegas and a particularly draining phone call from your mother, you decide to take Reid up on his offer to show you the sights of Las Vegas. When you wake up the next morning, you realise one of those sights was a 24hour Wedding Parlor, and that you're now Mrs. Reid.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, loss of memory, marriage (yeah that needs a warning), mommy issues, mentions of emotional abuse, implied sex scene, use of handcuffs in a sexual way, they theorize a possible creampie but I will neither confirm nor deny at this point, talk of contraception, no actual smut though, you guys are gonna have to wait for that. 18+ Minors DNI

A/N: The first chapter is here! Sorry for drawing you in with a silly little premise and then giving you mommy issues, I swear that after this chapter it's not bought up all that much. If you enjoy this chapter, you can sign up to the series taglist here, check out my masterlist and if you want leave a request! :D have fun reading!! ✨

Las Vegas, city of sin and entertainment capital of the world. Population approximately 600,000, home to the most famous casinos in the world, and unluckily for you, your latest unsub.

You’d been in Vegas for three weeks trying to hunt down this specific murderer, but now the case was all wrapped up and you could finally breathe, the weight of the stress you’d been carrying for almost a month now dissolving as you finally finished up the paperwork in the local precinct.

“Thank god that’s over. I cannot wait to be in bed with a good book and an empty head,” you groaned as you met the eyes of Penelope Garcia, your favorite tech analyst in the entire world and absolutely the only one you knew. She’d ended up having to join you on this case because some of the crime scenes just happened to be casinos that weren’t so happy sharing their data, but also didn’t want to be lumped with the warrant from the FBI. She’d been working between their offices and the precinct, and looked just as haggard as you felt.

“Oh, I feel you sister, this free travel experience thing is nice, but I would like to be back at my own perfect little desk hovel ASAP, thank you very much.” The two of you shared a small laugh, and then began collecting your stuff.

“Come on now, baby girl, you’re telling me that you don’t want to hit up the strip while we’re here? See the sights a little?”

“Sweet cheeks, I have been working from the most harrowing of surveillance units all week on that very strip. I have already seen the sights and they were not pretty, and definitely not worth using up my precious vacation time for.”

“Unfortunately Garcia, I don’t think you’ll be needing to use any of that vacation time to stay here,” Hotch announced as he walked in, and every member of your team snapped to attention to hear what he had to say. “I just got off the phone with Quantico, there’s a storm cloud moving in directly in our flight path and we haven’t been cleared for take off. They’re extending our stay by another day.”

“Shit,” you let out a silent curse, and noticed that your other team members didn’t seem all that happy about it either. JJ quickly excused herself from the room to call Will, Garcia let out a faux sob and fell back into her chair, and Rossi had the look of abject Italian disappointment on his face that he usually only got when you talked about your love of pineapple on pizza.

“How’s about that drink now, baby girl?” Derek Morgan teased, but it was half-hearted and you knew it. You were all desperate for bed, and you could only imagine the mistakes you would make if you went drinking now after the month you’d all just survived.

The only member of the team who didn’t seem put out quite yet was Reid, but you chalked that up to the fact that this place was his hometown.

“If you guys do change your mind, I know a bar downtown where you’re 34% less likely to be propositioned, robbed or over-charged.” He smiled over at you, and you couldn’t help but let out a giggle knowing the man was 100% serious.

“Dare I ask how you found that statistic, Reid?” Emily inquired from the other corner.

“One part actually reading the annual crime report, one part personal experience?” Reid replied, and you laughed again, unable to hold it back.

“Count me out, thank you,” you replied, and you could have sworn for a second you saw a flash of disappointment flash over his features, but you didn’t get the chance to question it, because a call was lighting up your phone screen.

You quickly excused yourself and moved to pick up the call from your mother.

“Mom, hey, what’s up?”

“What, I can’t check in on my daughter now for no reason?” you sighed and rubbed your temples, knowing exactly how this phone call was going to go, because it was how the last ten calls home had.

“Yes, mom, of course you can. How are you?”

“Terrible. Cindy’s daughter is getting married, and it’s all she’s talking about now. Can you believe it? The girl was absolutely wild when you were friends with her in high school and now she’s settling down with a lawyer of all people. Someone should warn that young man before he realises what he’s got himself into,” she scoffed on the other end of the line and you did your best to not get worked up. If you got angry it only made her more self-richeous.

“I know, Mom, Jessica sent me an invite, and I’m sure Trevor knows exactly what he’s getting into since they’ve been dating since high school.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that? You never tell me anything.”

“I’m sorry, Mom, I’m in the middle of a case right now, can I call you back later?” You did your best to escape the conversation before it devolved into something you really didn’t want to talk about, like yourself, and more specifically your love life. But the gorgon had you frozen through the line and you weren’t about to make the mistake of hanging up on her.

“I’m sure your boss could spare you for five minutes, over-working you like he does. You haven’t had the time off to come and visit me since you got that fancy little job of yours, so you can do me this favor at least.”

“Sure, mom.” At times like this, you knew it was best to just let her talk and ride out the wave.

“And I’m sure you don’t even have time to date. Are you taking care of yourself, at least? Making sure you’re at least presentable, I hope? Its like I always say, you could meet your future husband in one of those precincts, you know. Get a big, strong man to take care of you.”

You had to resist the urge to throw your phone. You’d explained to your mother time and time again that you were perfectly content being the big, strong man for yourself, but there was absolutely no getting through to her. You received one of these phone calls everytime one of her friends or coworkers kids announced an engagement, got pregnant or bought a house, three things that she was desperate for you to do, as well. As soon as you saw the instagram post from Jessica you’d been counting down the days, almost thankful for your mothers lack of online presence.

“A crime scene isn’t exactly the most charming of meet cutes, Mom.”

“Well, then what about Virginia? There are some fine men working at the FBI surely. What about that one coworker of yours, what was his name?” Your heart-race increased for a moment, praying she wasn’t about to put a thought in your head that you wouldn’t be able to escape.

“Derek Morgan, was it? Now, that’s a fine young man.” This time you couldn’t stop the startled cry that came from your mouth. Sure, Morgan was an incredibly attractive man, but he’d joked around with you like a brother ever since you’d taken down your first unsub with the team. Your team was your family and your support system on the road, and they had your back on the case, so really, had your mother said anything, you’d have responded with incredulous guffawing. Hotch was like your dad, Rossi a fun Great-Uncle or something. You saw the sister’s you’d never had in JJ and Emily and of course Garcia was your best friend and you shared so many likes and dislikes that you regularly joked about being long-lost twins separated at birth. And Reid was Reid.

“Just give dating some thought, would you at least? The clock is ticking for you, you know.”

“Mom, I’m not even thirty yet. I’m in no rush.”

“That's what your Aunt Linda said, and look at her.” Your Aunt Linda was a perfectly content single woman in her late forties who had a high paying executive job, in NYC of all places, so yeah, you were in no rush at all.

“Listen, Mom, I’ve got to go, Hotch is calling me into the office to talk about some case files. I’ll speak to you later?”

“God, it’s like you don’t even want to talk to your mother for even five minutes. Go on, then, go do your big fancy job. Call me soon.”

“Yeah, Mom, I will.” And with that you finally hung up. Running a hand through your hair you paused for a breath for a second, closing your eyes and letting your hand just grip your hair for a second before releasing your breath for a second.

In the grand scheme of things, you knew that your mom wasn’t all that much to complain about. You and Emily had bonded over your respective mommy issues early in your time on the team, and you knew a lot of the other team members were either lacking some family member or the other, so you were just thankful that she was still around to annoy you, but god did she make it difficult sometimes.

Realising that any second, you’d have one profiler or the other come find you and ask you (with the best of intentions) what was wrong, you plastered a smile on your face and walked back into the office. You didn’t exactly want to relive that call anytime soon.

“Back so soon, Y/N? I thought that was your mom,” Morgan questioned you when you stepped back in.

“Yeah it was. One of my friends from highschool is getting married and you know how she loves to gossip.” You’d learnt early in the profession that you were in that the best way to hide something was to tell the truth about it for as long as you could, and then change the subject.

“Hey, Reid, you still up for a drink at that bar?” You looked hopefully at the man in the corner, and prayed noone would bring up your absolute change in attitude. “I was thinking a glass of wine or two after a successfully closed case couldn’t hurt, right?”

“Yeah, sure. You wanna head back to the hotel first and change, or do you want to go from here? Hotch said we’re free now until 2pm tomorrow.” You could see a questioning look from Morgan to your left, but you kept your vision focused on Reid, quietly thankful for the rest of the teams disinterest.

“Give me five to drop off my badge and gun in my room and freshen up a bit and we can be on our way. If this bar is bad though, Reid, you know I’m never letting you hear the end of it, right?”

“I ran the statistics, there’s only a 14% chance you’ll dislike it.”

“You know what’s scary is, I can’t even tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

–x–

Sarcasm or no, you had to admit, the bar he’d taken you to was pretty nice. It was a low-lit bar only a twenty minute taxi ride from your hotel and whilst it wasn’t exactly on the strip, it wasn’t so far out to be inconvenient. The best part about it was that it was lined with bookshelves, and each booth was blocked off by another, making it feel more like a library than a watering hole. You almost forgot you were in Vegas when you stepped in.

“Yeah, this is definitely a Spencer Reid place,” you said as you took the final swig of your wine, the glass you’d ordered on arrival having gone down easier than you’d expected.

“How so?” Spencer said as he returned to your table, carrying the replacement drinks he’d gone to order with him.

“Come on, Spencer. I’ve never seen the inside of your apartment but I’m sure it’s just this place with less furniture and more books.”

“Y/L/N, are you profiling me right now? Because that sounds pretty close to profiling?” Spencer teased and you rolled your eyes at him, grabbing your next drink from him and giving it a stir - the wine was good but at the price per glass you’d decided maybe cocktails were the thing for tonight.

“Besides, you did mention wanting to curl up with a book tonight, so I thought this bar was probably a good fit for you too.”

“Whose profiling who now, Doctor?” It was his turn to roll his eyes, and he took a sip of his drink. You knew he didn’t drink that often, but he seemed pretty open to the idea tonight, and you were absolutely glad for the company.

“Okay, I won’t profile if you don’t, but do you mind me asking you a question, Y/N?”

“Fire away,” you were playing with the stirrer in your cocktail, waiting for him to ask the question but he’d hesitated for a moment before speaking again, causing you to look up directly into his eyes.

“What’s going on with you and your mom? I don’t mean to pry and I didn’t overhear any of your call earlier or anything, but when you came in again you were all tense and you had that strained smile on your face. Then you suddenly changed your mind and decided we should get drinks so, I’m just guessing here, but you could probably do with talking about it, right?”

You let out a groan and let your head hang a bit. Yeah, you were starting to regret taking that role in the team of profilers. But at least Reid was sincere, and you knew his intentions were good. Of all the members of the team, you’d probably have described him as the safest. It was strange to think, considering all the comfort you found in your other friends, but there was just something so reassuring about Reid’s presence, the way most people overlooked him at first, how he could easily fall into his work and how you could see the cogs moving in his head as he made one genius leap to another that just made you think that everything was going to be okay if he was there.

So because it was him, you decided to talk.

“She’s just…She’s just a little much sometimes, you know?” He smiled back a knowing smile, but didn’t try to add anything and encouraged you to keep going.

“She’s been really persistent recently in bothering me about hitting some of lifes big milestones - marriage, kids, you know? And it always leaves me in a panic because though I’m pretty sure I want those things just yet, I don’t want the pressure of having them yet.” You swallowed the bile in your thoat and continued

“Everytime she says something, I feel bad that I don’t have them. And the way she talks about them its like they’re some kind of… of personal failure, that I’m not trying hard enough to catch a man or something, and I just wonder what if she’s right?” You start slow but you feel yourself gaining pace as you begin rambling, by the end you’re left wondering if Reid even caught any of that.

“I’m perfectly content living alone, but what if I’m secretly not, and I end up forty and alone and can’t even get a guy to look at me.”

“I can pretty confidently say that that’s not going to happen, Y/N.” Reid replied when you finally grabbed your drink ready to take another sip.

“How come?”

“You won’t have to put any effort into catching a man, Y/N.” Reid replied.

“You’re saying that because you’re my friend and you care about me Reid, of course you think that.”

“No, I’m saying that as an FBI Profiler that’s noticed the barman, the man on a date in the corner and the group of guys smoking outside the door eye you up since we’ve been here. And considering we’ve been doing paperwork all day, and the only change in your appearance since 8am this morning was the fresh coat of chapstick you put on while we were in the taxi, I’d think you hadn’t really put that much thought into what you look like right now.”

“You’re exaggerating,” and you really believe that, until you turn to look at the guy on the date and see him avert his gaze from you quickly, and you realise there might be something in what he’s saying.

“Okay, but that still doesn’t mean that I need or want to hear those things from my mother.”

“Y/N, take it from me, mother’s can be complicated.”

“God, I feel so stupid talking to you about something so trivial with my mom, I shouldn’t be doing that, we’re here to have fun.”

“Y/N, its okay. I can do the mommy issues talks, I’m perfectly qualified, but…” he trails off and grabs his drink for another sip and you find yourself hanging off his words begging for him to bring you more comfort and spoken caresses.

“But what, Reid?” you finally ask, as you realise he’s dragging this out on purpose to tease you a little.

“But how about a distraction instead? Have you ever been in a Las Vegas casino with a man that is banned from gambling in most of them?” He wiggled his eyebrows a little as he asked that and you giggled again, grateful for the reprieve from the serious talk.

“That doesn’t sound all that fun, Spencer.”

“Oh yeah, it’s not, but we could always use those vouchers we got as a token of appreciation earlier in the bars and drink some pretty fancy alcohol?”

“Spencer Reid, you are finally speaking my language.”

“I’m still speaking English Y/N, but if you wanted me to switch to russian or some other language, I could accommodate that depending on your linguistic preference.”

“It was a joke, Spence, now let’s get out of here.”

With that, he stood and dramatically offered you his hand like a gentleman, placing your hand in the crook of his elbow when you took it and guiding you swiftly out of the sweet bar. You were with Spencer, your safe friend, close work colleague and probably the least likely member of the BAU Team to get into trouble in a bar in Vegas. What’s the worst that could happen? You thought, as you took a final step out into the humid night air of Las Vegas.

–X–

The first thing you noticed in the morning was the pounding in your head, and it was pretty much the only thing you noticed for quite some time. When you managed to finally unglue your eyes, the second thing you noticed that this definitely wasn’t your room. The third thing you noticed was the gaping hole in your memories that explained how you possibly could’ve ended up wherever it was that you were. Or really any memories from the night before at all.

Letting out a quick groan you sit up in bed and take stock of your surroundings. Although the layout is different, you quickly recognise the interior matches the hotel you’ve been staying at, so you’re thankful that you’re at least somewhere relatively safe, and most likely in familiar company. The room looks to be neat on the whole, but there’s obvious signs of a drunken escapade strewn everwhere - two champagne flutes and a drained bottle, the contents of your purse spilt onto the chair in the corner, some random balloons in the corner you must have picked up somewhere in a drunken stupor, your clothes discarded in a trail to the bed.

That last one wakes you up a little bit more, and almost embarrassingly, you look down at yourself and see your lack of clothing, pulling the covers of the quilt closer to you as you feel yourself flush.

Fuck.

There’s a shifting in the bed next to you, and you look down in horror to see exactly which member of your team got you so plastered last night. You try to move to see who it is, but theres a tightness around your wrist and you’re pulled right back down into bed. You look down at your arm, and that’s when you realise you’re really screwed.

There, around your wrist and restraining you against the bed, is a set of handcuffs. FBI standard. The insinuation flames your face as you whip around to see which close friend and coworker you maybe - possibly - hooked up with last night, too embarrassed to look at your hand any more.

Luckily, your mystery man shifts again, and you catch sight of the nest of brown curls right before he turns over to see you, so when you finally meet the eye of Doctor Spencer Reid, you don’t scream in surprise.

“Y/N? What are you doi-” he cuts himself off as he lets his eyes trail down your body, quickly noticing your state of undress and pulling himself up into a seated position. He is similarly disrobed and it takes all of your strength to pull your gaze away from his bare chest to look literally anywhere else, your face practically flaming now.

“Spencer, would you mind helping me out over here?” you manage to squeak out quickly, as he does his best to avoid your eyes. “I seem to be a little stuck?”

That draws his attention back to you, and he finally notices the strange position of your arms and the handcuffs keeping you pinned to that spot in the bed.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry, fuck,” he quickly pulls on the pants he discarded by his side of the bed and scrambles over to you, tripping over once in his haste.

“Do you know where the key is?” you ask as he arrives at your side again, your free hand clutching the sheets over your breasts like your life depended on it.

“If that’s my pair they should be in the safe in the nightstand with my creds, give me a second to look.” After a second, he reaches the aforementioned safe box, pulling it open. He roots around inside it for a few seconds and then he spots something ad you watch the blood drain from his face.

“Spencer, what’s wrong?” you spit out quickly, tongue still heavy, and lips probably still swollen, from the night before, so you trip over the words a little. He pulls out the keys from the draw, and you let out a sigh of relief, but you’re still tense as he reaches back inside the draw and pulls out something else.

“Y/N, there wouldn’t happen to be a ring on that hand would there?” Spencer still isn’t looking at you, still staring intently at whatever else is in his hands. You try to angle your head to look, but between the restraints and the fact that Reid had turned his back to you couldn’t quite see what it was.

“What? No, I don’t wear a ring on this hand-” you cut yourself off abruptly as you look down and see it. There on the fourth finger of your left hand, the one that is still chained to the bed by your partners handcuffs, is a ring. There’s a ring on your ring finger. You just woke up in Las Vegas with no memory, in your coworkers room, naked, with a ring on your ring finger.

Your heart drops to your ass as you snap your head back around to Spencer, who finally works up the courage to look you in the eye.

“I think you should look at this” he stutters out and finally presents you with the other item he pulled out of the draw. Your jaw drops open and the pounding in your head turns into a continuous buzzing as you see yourself presented with a marriage liscence. Pinned to the corner with a paperclip is a polaroid picture, and you recognise yourself and your clothes from the night before, with the addition of a veil and bouquet, your arms slung around Reid’s neck as he pulls you in for what you can assume was a pretty passionate kiss.

“Y/N I think we got married last night.”

For a second you could’ve sworn your heart stopped. This was not happening, not to you, not right now. How stupidly drunk could you have gotten to have actually gone and married someone you weren’t even dating. And considering your current lack of clothing, it was dawning on you that you had probably done a little bit more than what was in that photo.

“Spencer unlock these handcuffs right now, so help me God,” you breathed deep and screwed your eyes shut, hoping that wihtout the distraction of the glaring lights you’d be able to remember some of what you’d done last night, but nothing came to you.

Reid, for what it was worth, got you unlocked quickly. You winced slightly as you pulled your arm away from the position it’d been in for however many hours.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry, I should have undone those last night, I don’t know why I didn’t, I’m usually pretty good at remembering stuff like that.” Reid rambled, running a hand through his hair and pacing slightly at your side of the bed. You pushed yourself up and watched him for a minute, just looking at this man who was now, probably, your husband.

Your husband.

You shook the thought from your head and cut his rambling off quickly.

“You put me in these?” you asked, just desperate for any clarification on any of the events of the last 24 hours, not fully grasping the implications of what you were asking until Reid was looking down at you with a flushed face and a mouth gaping like a fish, struggling to find the words to say.

“This is my hotel room. Those are my handcuffs… I kind of just assumed…” he trailed off the thought and you were right with him, the embarrassment heating your face just as much as it had his. You found it hard to meet his eyes the, and dropped yours to your lap.

“So you don’t remember, either?” You almost sighed in relief at that. If even a genius with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory was in this state after a night of drinking, then you really couldn’t be blamed for getting so drunk you married your coworker and most likely had some pretty kinky sex with him, remembering absolutely nothing on top of that at all.

“Do you need me to grab you something to wear?” he asked as he looked down at you, letting his gaze trail probably a little bit too low for a little bit too long. You grew heated under his stare, as your body reacted, and you realised how easy it must have been to fall underneath him last night if this was how you were feeling from just one look.

But you pulled yourself out of those thoughts quickly, and it seemed that so did he, as he began grabbing clothes from the floor and handing them to you, turning away as you started getting yourself into a semi-decent state.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” you heard Reid mumble to himself as he made his way around the side of the bed, and in your concern for him, you called out.

“Anything specific those curses were for, Spence? Because I know this isn’t exactly the most ideal situation, but four Spencer Reid swears in a row is a cause for concern.” You tried to joke, hoping to relieve some of the anxiety of your predicament.

“I can’t find…” he started and then dragged a hand over his face, trying to wipe the exhaustion from his eyes. “Y/N, I think we didn’t use protection.” You could see him panicking now, and for a second you thought of joining him too, but you crossed the room and grabbed his arms.

“Spencer, look at me, it’s fine. If we did end up… doing that, I’m on birth control, and we probably have time to grab something extra just to make sure, right?” he looked down at you then and after a moments hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m so sorry about all of this, I’m so stupid for suggesting we go to that casino bar last night, I don’t know what I was thinking. You even said last night that this wasn’t what you wanted for yourself, right now, god I’m an idiot, you don’t deserve this.” He buried his face in your neck and held you tight, and you pulled yours up to his back, rubbing circles into his skin slowly.

“Spencer, listen to me. I can think of noone I would have rather had a shotgun Vegas marriage with, okay? This isn’t your fault, we were both drunk, and I’m sure a Reid who was thinking straight could give me some kind of statistic about inhibitions dropping with a certain amount of alcohol.”

“A study in the United Kingdom found that there was an increase of risky sexual behavior in young people who had participated in binge drinking, including unprotected sex with a new partner and the use of emergency contraceptives and I’m not sure why I’m still talking when that was probably rhetorical, right?” You smiled at his panic, finding him just as endearing as ever, even in this predicament.

“What I’m saying, Spencer, is that we’re going to be okay. This isn’t the first time someone has gotten married in Vegas on a whim. Hell, this isn’t even the first time it’s happened to someone on our team. In a sense, this was a very traditional wedding.”

He groaned into your neck again and you laughed up at him. Sure, you were panicked still, but just having him in your arms there sharing his honest feelings with you instead of bottling it up and leaving you to deal with it on your own in your head too was doing you a world of good, and you found the words you used to reassure him soothing you, too, in turn.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. One, find the nearest pharmacy. Two, find whatever Elvis-inspired love shack wrote that marriage license and figure out if it’s actually legally binding. Three, avoid all of our coworkers until 2pm. How does that sound?”

Reid pulled himself out of your neck then, and you were almost sad at the loss of that warmth near you.

“It sounds like I made the smartest choice of a wife I was ever going to make,” he smiled down at you.

“Oh you got jokes now, Doc? I see.”

“Thought I should let you know all my deep dark secrets now we’re married.” You shared a laugh, and standing there amongst the debris of the night before, despite all the mistakes, you knew you were safe, and that the two of you would always be safe together.

🏷️ @sailortongue @bethanyhaas01 @reidscaffeine @high-functioning-cosplayer @average-sunflower @multifandom-on-the-side @anniewhalelover @prentissesredtanktop @abbyshmaby @academiareid @hugyourlungs @w-windy @babybluecakes @SwaggySagieWagie@reidandhotchsgirl @lover-of-books-and-tea @star0055 @Zaapsite @daddy-dotcom @bluecandycake

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: While shooting a movie with the infamous Wanda Maximoff, you start to fall for her. The lines between reality and acting blur together as you enter into a publicity stunt relationship, and you try to save your heart from breaking.

content warnings: angst, fake relationship, but a happy ending! Also TW for religious trauma, specifically homophobia within the Mormon church.

word count: 6.8k+

masterlist

Original Request

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

The first time you lay eyes on Wanda Maximoff, you knew your life would never be the same. Her green eyes pierced through the chaotic atmosphere of the audition room, a group of people you assumed were her team surrounding her as she walked into the larger room off to the side, where the actual auditions were being held. 

You watched her go until her silky auburn hair faded from view, the door shutting firmly behind her, and sucked in a large breath. It felt like the air was simultaneously lighter without her heady presence, and thicker at her absence. You made up your mind then and there to try your very best at this audition. 

Deep down, you knew that the privilege of knowing Wanda Maximoff would be the insurmountable victory of your life, and you steeled yourself. 

“Damn,” Someone said, and you frowned as the room erupted in nervous laughter. Looking around, some people seemed starstruck, while others looked absolutely terrified. You understood why, nobody had told you that one of the most famous actresses in the country would be showing up at the final round of auditions today, but you could understand the reasons behind their secrecy. 

Mentally running over the lines you knew you’d forget the second you were in the presence of the most exquisite woman you’d ever seen, you manually slowed your heartbeat, breathing in slowly while you calmed your nerves. 

You couldn’t fuck this up. 

Someone called your name, and you stood, the movement feeling almost robotic. Blinking a few times, and shaking off the stubborn nerves that raced through your already sleep-deprived body, you smiled slightly at the people around you. They all offered small, encouraging smiles, but you could see the hunger behind their eyes. The need to succeed, to be better than everyone else in the room. The need to win. 

Shivering again, you reminded yourself that although it was a competition, it didn’t matter if you didn’t get the role. As long as you tried your best, that was enough. Then you remembered the woman waiting on the other side of the door, and a fierce wave of something rushed through you. 

Walking into the room, you kept your back straight, hoping to at least act like you were confident. That crumbled the moment you locked eyes with Wanda, the green of her irises imprinting themselves into your mind as you formed an awkward smile. 

“Alright,” A mousy-looking man clapped his hands, the illustrious eyes that had sought yours now focused solely on him. You never wanted to kill a man as desperately as you did now. Instead, you turned your head, shaking the cobwebs of gay panic from your mind as you forced yourself to focus. 

“We’re going to start with page twelve, scene two. A seat has been provided,” The man gestured towards the front of the room, and you glanced over. A single booth, about six feet long, was sitting innocently in a spotlight. It reminded you of your childhood, images of hot sticky Sundays clawing their way to the surface as you swallowed harshly. 

Missing the glance Wanda sent your way, her brows furrowing slightly at the distant look in your eyes, you jerkily made your way toward the seat. 

The words of a forgotten Sunday worship wormed their way towards your ears, murmuring things like ‘sinner’, ‘abomination’, and ‘unworthy’. The words suffocated you, visions of a church meeting hall flashing before you as you sat down on the familiar seat. 

Your fingers grazed the fabric, and you realized that they must have acquired an actual seat from some random Mormon church, and you fought the bile that rose. 

“I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself,” A soft voice filtered through your thoughts, clearing your mind instantly. 

Looking up, your face flushing, you could only stare silently as Wanda sat beside you. Embarrassment welled up, knowing that the woman had probably witnessed you get lost in the past, but she gave no indication that she’d seen anything, holding out her hand. 

“I’m Wanda,” She said, a genuine smile brightening her face. Her eyes searched yours, seemingly imploring you to take her hand, and you did. 

You were happy that you didn’t stutter as you gave her your name, surprised when Wanda repeated it back to you, the syllables forming into something beautiful when she spoke. 

“Be honest,” She leaned in, eyes sparkling with your hand still firmly grasped in hers. “How nervous are you?”

The faint scent of vanilla encircled you, a haze threatening to pull your focus away, but you remained steadfast. Not wanting to miss a single moment you had with the captivating enigma that was Wanda Maximoff. 

“I accidentally bought myself two coffees this morning,” You confided, smiling slightly at Wanda’s confused expression. “I had forgotten I’d ordered the first one, so I waited in line again to order my latte, only to realize halfway through the second cup that I’d been so anxious I practically blacked out while ordering the first time around.” 

Whatever reaction you’d been expecting, the tinkling laughter that erupted from the woman seated mere inches beside you was better than anything you could’ve imagined. Her eyes crinkled, one hand coming up to cover her mouth, and you fought to urge to lower it, wanting to see her full face while she was in the throes of happiness. 

“Alright ladies,” A voice rang out, shocking you out of the comfortable lull you’d found yourself in. “Are we ready to begin?”

The mousy man was now seated at a long table, three people seated on either side of him, their eyes locked on you and Wanda. You swallowed harshly, suddenly remembering that this was an audition, and you reluctantly removed your hand from Wanda’s. 

Glancing over, Wanda nodded, her eyes still locked on yours. They were warm, as if to say, ‘Don’t rush, take your time,’ and you smiled. 

You could totally do this.

—

“When did you know?” Wanda’s voice is frail, and you bite your lip. 

“Know what?”

“That you’re…” She trailed off, her eyes distant, a lost look in them. They met yours, green eyes pleading with you to say the words she couldn’t.

“That I’m gay?” You make sure to make your tone extra sarcastic, sending a quick smile her way, and nudging your shoulder gently against hers. You leave it there, finding comfort in the warmth that shoots through your body at the minimal contact. 

She lets out a breath of air, inhaling shakily as she quickly glances away from you. “Yes… that.”

“It’s not a dirty word, you know,” You say, tilting your head slightly, hoping to catch her eye. She refuses, fingers picking at the seat between you as her eyes remain locked somewhere in the distance. 

Fighting the urge to sigh, you let your own eyes glaze over, a faraway look appearing in them as you breathe in deeply. It’s a weary sound, and you close your eyes briefly as you exhale, preparing your answer. 

“I think I’ve always known,” You begin, resting a hand on the seat, your pinky centimeters from hers. Green eyes lock onto it, her breaths shortening further, her silence stretching on. 

“The first time I realized that I was…” You search for the word, shaking your head slightly, “Different,” The word tastes like ash in your mouth, and you can’t help the slight wobble in your voice. 

Clearing your throat, you continue, “I was in second grade, and for some reason, I really wanted the approval of my new teacher,” You glance awkwardly over towards Wanda, smirking, “I’ve always liked older women.”

Wanda’s fingers inch closer to yours, the tension palpable. You look away, needing to get the next words out, but knowing you wouldn’t be able to if you were staring into those all-knowing green eyes of hers. 

“I went home that night, and I prayed,” The words get stuck in your throat, and you realize with rising horror that actual tears are making their way into your eyes. You push onwards, Wanda’s hand inching closer to yours. 

“I prayed that I would wake up the next morning and be able to like boys the same way that I liked girls. I prayed and asked God why he would do this to me, why he would make me like this if he hated it so much.” Your voice breaks, a tear escaping down your cheek. “And it didn’t work.”

At those words, the dam finally breaks, and your shoulders heave with silent sobs as Wanda’s hand finally encircles your own. You can feel her other hand hesitantly rising, moving towards your shoulder before stopping, unsure if she should touch you or not. 

Eventually, after a pathetic-sounding sniffle escapes you, her other hand wraps around your shoulders, bringing you in. You bury your head into her shoulder, fingers gripping tightly onto the back of her shirt as the lines between acting and reality blur together into one giant, jumbled mess. 

“And, scene!” A voice calls out, and you force the tears back, manually slowing your breathing to gain some semblance of control over yourself. You tell yourself that you’re imagining the hesitant way that Wanda pulls away from you and blink in surprise when her hand remains on your back, gently rubbing soothing circles as you breathe deeply. 

“That was…” The man can’t seem to get the words out, his eyes shining. “Phenomenal.” 

His voice is breathy, filled with awe, and you can’t help the surprised look that takes over your face. Really, all it took was a minor mental breakdown and your acting was phenomenal? You should try that more often. 

The rest of the members at the table seem to agree, and the mousy-looking man makes his way toward you and Wanda, a wide smile on his face. 

“Congratulations!” He all but exclaims, and you feel disconnected from your body as he continues, “You’re hired!”

The man goes on to explain that Wanda will be playing the other main character, the Bishop’s wife, while you play the lead role in the movie. You know the character well, you’ve played her both in real life and now in auditions, but you can’t quite believe the words that are spewing rapidly from the man’s mouth. 

You play a 19-year-old girl, living with her elderly Grandmother after her parents had kicked her out for coming out as a lesbian. Your character only attends church with her resolutely Mormon Grandmother because she is scared to lose the only person in her life who will still give her a home. The man explains that your character falls in love with the new Bishop’s young wife, having just moved from Utah to your state, as Wanda’s character navigates her new realization of her sexuality while also falling in love with your character. 

It’s a beautiful story, one you’d read over and over again before deciding to audition. The themes of religious trauma, grief, and romance all swirled into one complicated story, but one detail, in particular, stood out in your disconnected brain. 

Fuck. 

Wanda’s character is the romantic interest of your character. 

What are you supposed to do now?

—

The director, a brunette woman with a seemingly permanent calming aura, had instructed you and Wanda to get to know each other better during the two months before shooting. She’d said something about how actors who were friends in real life had better chemistry on screen, but you’d blacked out after the word ‘chemistry’ had fallen from her lips. 

Wanda had laughed, seeing the slight flush appear on your face, her hands gentle as she guided you towards her car, “Seeing as we’ll be getting to know each other pretty well for the next few months, why don’t we start with a tour of my home?”

She’d persuaded you further with the promise of a home-cooked meal, and you simply couldn’t refuse. You were a recent college graduate, living in a shitty studio apartment you could barely afford, surviving off of the bare essentials. A tour of an actual house with an actual meal sounded like a pretty sweet deal to you. 

Plus, Wanda would be there, so everything would be perfect. 

The next two months were wonderful, the text messages between you two were constant and the weekends reserved solely for getting to know each other better. You quickly learned that Wanda absolutely loved cooking, but she adored gardening. 

The two of you had started doing puzzles together, one particularly colorful one catching your eye as you went shopping with Wanda, and she’d insisted on buying it for you. So, it became a tradition. Every Saturday, excluding the ones when Wanda had prior plans seeing as she was a famous actress with events to attend, the two of you would share a bottle or two of wine and assemble a puzzle while conversation flowed like water between you. 

The only thing you dreaded during these two months was Sundays. The director had asked you two to attend a Mormon church, stating it as research for the upcoming movie. You didn’t have the heart to explain why the mere thought of stepping foot inside a church again sent uncomfortable, conflicting tendrils of grief and self-loathing crawling up your spine, so you simply agreed. 

Wanda knew. She somehow always knew when something was wrong. She’d helped you pick out an outfit, a modest dress with comfortable shoes, and in return, you’d helped her find a dress in her massive closet that actually fit the impossible Mormon standards. 

You were silent during the car ride to the church, your eyes locked on the landscape moving quickly outside your window. Wanda didn’t have to ask if you were alright, she saw the distant look in your eyes and knew that you were trapped in memories, unable to escape. 

A soft hand enveloped yours, fingers tight around your hands as you felt vanilla pierce the heavy weight of the scenes playing behind your eyes. Your brain cleared briefly, overwhelming gratitude welling up inside you at the gentle show of support, and your fingers squeezed back. 

After that, you felt more present. Even when you walked through the doors, a false smile glued to your lips as you led the way towards a seat covered in that same scratchy fabric from the audition room, you didn’t sink beneath the waves of past memories threatening to drown you. 

The fabric didn’t seem quite as scratchy now with Wanda beside you, her pinky mere inches from yours. You remembered the audition room, the memory overlapping with the past ones that strained to reach the surface of your thoughts. The new memory suffocated the old, your breaths coming easier while Wanda’s steady presence overcame your senses. 

Someone began speaking at the podium, your body jolting as you realized it was a prayer. Wanda’s eyes were sharp, taking in everything, assessing everything. You showed her how to fold her arms, bowing your head slightly. The last thing you wanted was to stand out. 

If you stood out from the rest, you would never be fully accepted. You couldn’t go through that again. 

Wanda seemed to see the desperation in your eyes and copied your movements. Her green eyes didn’t close, watching you as your eyes stared blankly at the booth in front of you. 

“Dear Heavenly Father, we thank thee…” You couldn’t hear the rest of the prayer, the familiar phrase ringing around your head until the cacophony of noise threatened to overwhelm you. 

A pinky touched yours, Wanda’s body resting fully against you as you sat side-by-side in a little booth. The man was still speaking, your ears numb to his words, your senses locked into only one person. 

Wanda. 

Her finger wrapped around yours, an awkward version of a pinky promise, an act so juvenile yet innocent and pure. This memory overlapped with your past, multiple prayers you’d heard about ‘giving strength to those who stray’, and ‘loving everyone no matter what their sins may be’, being smothered by the simple touch of a pinky. 

You longed for more. 

The rest of the meeting passed quickly, your hands interlocked in the seat between you, hidden beneath the folds of your skirts. You were numb to the words spoken at the podium, having learned to block them out a long time ago. You let yourself remember, an unexplainable grief rising within you as you remembered what it felt like to truly believe in something, before the same people you’d once felt seemingly unconditional love from, turned on you with knowing eyes and quiet whispers. 

All because you liked a girl. 

Silent tears fell, your sniffles quiet from years of practice. Wanda’s fingers tightened, her eyes warm but not overwhelming. You let the memories wash over you, reliving them and then releasing them, letting comforting waves of vanilla envelop and smother them like a warm blanket. You finally smiled, right near the end of the meeting, your eyes no longer dull.

Wanda held your hand the entire time. 

—

The rest of the cast was amazing, friendly faces surrounded you, and laughter never ending as you mingled before the first table read. There was an assortment of finger sandwiches on a table near the back of the room, and you didn’t stray far from it. 

It’s not that you were hiding, per se, but rather surveying the room while you tried to control a slight panic rising within you. Yeah, scratch that, you were totally hiding. 

“Hey,” Your eyes raise from the sandwich you’d been inspecting, meeting a familiar shade of green. You can’t help the comfortable smile that erupts on your face as Wanda makes her way over to you. 

“Not a fan of mingling, I take it?”

“I just,” You gesture helplessly, noticing the lingering looks from some of the cast, probably wondering why Wanda was standing near you. “I don’t know anyone. And I feel really awkward.”

Wanda’s fingers interlock with yours, pulling your reluctant frame away from the table. “Well,” She reasons, walking towards a group of people, “Let’s introduce you then.”

—

You’re quite proud of yourself, having not stuttered over a single line of yours during the first table read. You could tell that some of your castmates were surprised that you were playing the lead character, as you weren’t a well-known name in the industry. 

The cast was stacked with A-list actors, Wanda being one of them. In all honesty, you were terrified, but Wanda’s chair was next to yours, and her pinky never strayed far from your own, so it wasn’t all that bad. 

Positioning her body until it was slightly facing yours, Wanda leaned in after the director announced a short break, the rest of the cast standing up to mingle, their voices chattering about the script. 

“You did exceptionally well.” The words were whispered in your ear, meant for you and you alone. Something warm burned in your chest, and you smiled proudly as you tilted your face toward Wanda. 

Your breath caught, her lips inches from yours. She didn’t make any moves to lean back, and you fought the urge to count her freckles as her soft breaths hit your face. 

“A glowing review,” You managed, a smirk making its way onto your face at Wanda’s smile. “I’m flattered.”

Wanda laughed, finally leaning back as she did so, and you let out a sharp exhale. One of her hands gripped your forearm as she chuckled, one hand covering her mouth as she did so. 

“You shouldn’t do that,” You said, blinking at the suddenness of your words. 

Wanda tilted her head, brows furrowing slightly. She doesn’t have to speak, her silent question stretching out in the silence between you two. 

“I just mean, you cover your face when you laugh,” You gesture towards her, ducking your head as your mouth keeps talking. “You shouldn’t, you’re beautiful when you laugh.”

The statement feels awkward coming from your lips, the compliment suddenly sounding too flirty, too personal, just too much. But then, Wanda’s smiling again, her eyes sparkling as she practically beams at you, and your words don’t feel unnatural anymore. 

“Well, I…” She doesn’t continue, her eyes searching yours as her eyes continue to sparkle at you.

“I never thought I’d see the day that Wanda Maximoff was rendered speechless,” The joke spills out, the silence threatening to turn uncomfortable as you stare at each other. You place a hand over your heart mockingly, “I’m truly honored to witness this momentous occasion.” 

Wanda laughs, and this time her hands stay away from her face, your eyes eagerly taking in her expression. You were right, she is beautiful when she laughs. 

“Alright, sweet talker,” She stands, still smiling widely at you as she pulls you from your seat. “Let's go mingle with our new friends.”

You socialize, words falling easily from your lips as you get to know the rest of your cast. Plenty of people congratulate you on landing the role, some offering encouraging words and others offering tips. You enjoy it all, auburn hair and sparkling eyes never leaving your sight for too long. 

It’s not as awkward as before, not with Wanda by your side.

—

“Your agents are geniuses,” Angela, the woman playing your on-screen grandmother jokes, relaxing against the booth. Your fingers play with the scratchy fabric, standing behind the seat with Wanda leaning next to you. 

You’ve been shooting the movie for a few weeks now, and this is one of the longer days. You’re shooting on the set of a reconstructed Mormon church, and you have to admit that the set designers did their research. The main hall is eerily similar to the one you remember growing up in. 

There’s a multitude of extras milling about, the day long and exhausting for everyone, since the scenes you're shooting take place in a packed church meeting. You’ve finally gotten a break, and Wanda has come over to talk with you, as she usually did. 

“What do you mean?” Wanda asks, and Angela laughs. It's a throaty sound, and your lips turn up of their own accord as she braces herself against the seat. 

Someone shouts about the lighting, and you’re momentarily distracted while Angela wipes her eyes slightly. She waves off the young makeup artist, dabbing at the concealer beneath her eyes. 

The extras give you and Wanda a wide berth, and you’re unsure if they were instructed to do so, or if they were just intimidated by the lead actresses of the movie. Either way, you’re grateful for the space. 

“Don’t worry,” Angela says, leaning in and drawing your attention back to her. “You don’t have to play dumb with me, everyone knows that you two are dating as a publicity stunt.”

You and Wanda glance at each other briefly, shock evident on both your faces as Angela continues, “It’s a genius idea, truly. It's great for promoting the movie, and it gets people wondering if your on-screen chemistry is as good as your real-life chemistry.”

Real-life chemistry? What the fuck? 

Wanda must be thinking the same thing, because her eyes are slightly wide as she stares at you. Then, they change slightly, a calculating look in them as a multitude of makeup artists swoop in, surrounding the two of you as they prepare you for the upcoming scene. 

You catch Angela’s eye, and she pretends to zip her lips shut. Offering a wobbly smile, you walk almost robotically towards the front of the room as the director calls for places, your mind racing. Wanda brushes past you, her hand grazing your waist as she moves to sit behind the podium, where you’ll be standing for the next scene. 

Taking a deep breath, you push all thoughts of Wanda and fake relationships and chemistry out of your mind. There will be plenty of time to panic later, now, you have to focus on the next scene and try not to mess up badly. 

It’s utter chaos when they have to reset a scene with as many people as there are in the room, and you really want this day to be over with. Besides, there’s a bottle of vodka and an evening of overthinking waiting for you. 

—

Your publicist, a woman named Annie, smiles encouragingly at you while you sit in shock. 

“I mean, just think about it,” Another woman speaks, and you turn your wide eyes towards her. “It’s the perfect opportunity to sell this movie to the public, and the two of you are already good friends.”

At that, Wanda glances over at you. 

You blink. It’s slightly unfair how regal she looks, sitting elegantly in her chair in this small, suffocating room. Your brain is already slightly frazzled from a long day of shooting, and you struggle to process the request of Wanda’s publicist. 

“Let me make sure I’m understanding correctly,” Wanda interjects, sensing that you’re off-kilter at the moment. Her voice soothes you, and you remind yourself to breathe as she continues, “You want us to pretend to be in a relationship, as a publicity stunt?”

Well, when she puts it that way, it doesn’t seem so difficult. But then again, you’d agree with anything Wanda says, so maybe you’re biased. 

“Exactly,” Annie says, Wanda’s publicist nodding. “This movie is already projected to hit the box office, and with this, there will be even more demographics watching. This pretend relationship will help build anticipation for the movie, especially since the whole internet ships you two already.”

Now that was a new piece of information, and by the look on Wanda’s face, she was also hearing this for the first time.

“Do they really,” Wanda’s voice is slightly faint, her posture slumping slightly as she leans back in her chair. She seems to process, her eyes unfocusing slightly, so you ask a question of your own.

“Which demographics are we talking about, exactly?”

Annie smiles, sharing a look with Wanda’s publicist. “The younger generation for sure, since you’re already starting to trend on popular social media apps, as well as the LBGTQ+ community. They’re always looking for a new queer couple to ship.”

You try not to bristle, wanting to remind Annie that you’re a part of that community, but before you can get the words out, Wanda interjects. 

“Can we think about it?” Her words are soft, and when you glance over towards her, the green of her eyes doesn’t lock on yours like usual. Instead, they’re focused on her publicist, with a slightly firm look in them.

The woman concedes, and Wanda stands quickly. Before you’re able to get to your own feet, feeling slightly shaky as you do so, she’s already out the door.

—

After a few days of awkwardness, which you absolutely hate, you and Wanda agree that the publicity stunt is a smart move. 

It’s awkward at first, especially since you’re overthinking every interaction you have with her. You shy away from her touch, suddenly questioning if she’s touching you for the publicity stunt or because she actually wants to. 

After a couple of days of this, you’re in your trailer, watching some stupid reality show to try and get your mind off of the uncomfortable day you’d had on set when three light knocks sound at your door. 

“I know you’re in there, I can hear the TV.” Wanda’s voice sounds through the door, and you curse. It’s not that you were avoiding her… that’s a lie. You were totally avoiding her, and your acting in scenes with her had taken a hit because of it. 

“Just let me in, we need to talk,” There’s a pause, then, “Please?”

You can’t say no to that.

Turning the TV off, you make your way to the door and open it to reveal a very tired-looking Wanda. Her auburn hair seems slightly duller than usual, the sparkle in her green eyes no longer there. 

“Um,” Wanda pushes past you, sitting on your couch as you shut the door behind her. “What did you want to talk about?”

The question feels awkward, and you know that you’re avoiding the proverbial elephant in the room. Wanda gives you a look, and you sigh. 

Sitting down on the couch next to her, you leave plenty of space between your body and hers, and you try not to think about the way her pinky twitches at the distance. 

“Why are you avoiding me?” Wanda asks, and you blink. You hadn’t expected her to be so straightforward, but it seemed that she had no more patience for hesitancy. 

“I’m just,” You trail off, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I’m not sure where reality ends and this fake relationship begins. And I’m not sure about what’s real and what’s not.”

Wanda doesn’t say anything for a long while, but the silence doesn’t feel awkward anymore. Instead, it feels heavy and filled with a multitude of unspoken feelings that you wish you had the bravery to share.

“So this,” Wanda reaches out her hand slowly, as if not to spook you. It stops, halfway between your body and hers, resting innocently on your couch. Her pinky stretches out further, and you let your hand slide along the cushion until your pinkies interlock. 

You don’t imagine the relieved sigh that escapes Wanda’s lips.

“You’re not sure if this is real or not?” The question rings around your head, and you shake your head because no, you can’t tell.

“Let me tell you how I see it,” Wanda says, her voice soft. You look up, meeting those pretty green eyes for the first time all day. She smiles, and they crinkle at the edges. You’ve missed seeing that. 

“When we’re alone, or on set, everything is real,” Her voice is firm, laced with honesty. “When we’re in public, it’s still real, just dramatized for the camera. Does that make sense?”

You nod, the pieces finally clicking together in your brain. You don’t say anything, and you don’t have to. All you do is squeeze Wanda’s fingers tighter and move closer to her on the couch. 

Turning the TV back on, you rest against her, your head resting on her shoulder. When you glance up at her, the green in her eyes sparkles back at you. Something settles deep within you, and Wanda rests her cheek against the top of your head.

—

You stare blankly at the script in front of you. The pages flutter slightly as a gentle breeze sweeps through the actor’s tent. Sounds of chatter flow around you, but you remain unresponsive, the words on the page swimming off and distorting as you try not to panic. 

A sinking feeling makes its way into your chest, the reality of the scene you’re about to shoot finally setting in. 

You have to kiss Wanda Maximoff. 

Sure, it’s an on-screen kiss, it’s not like it means anything. Right?

But there’s a small part of you that longs for it to be real. Some stupid part of you that you try to get rid of that wishes it meant something to her. Because it sure as hell means something to you. 

But it won’t mean anything to her. It’s a fake kiss. One meant for the screen. You build your walls, surrounding your heart with impenetrable stone as a calm iciness envelops you. 

It doesn’t mean anything. 

—

Her lips are inches from yours, and you can’t stop looking at them. They’re plump, and slightly glistening from a light coating of lip gloss. There’s a red undertone, and you find yourself yearning to discover what she tastes like. 

You hesitate. 

“Cut.” The director calls, and you blink, stepping away from Wanda. 

“Remember,” The director begins, and you focus all your attention on her, ignoring the concerned look Wanda is sending your way. “Your character wants this, she’s not hesitating. She’s been yearning for this for weeks now, and I need you to show that through the screen. I want to feel the tension, the desperation.”

She pins you with a look, a sort of knowing glint in her eye. “Understood?”

“Yep, got it.” You offer a smile, the fakeness of it making you cringe. Your makeup artists swoop in, touching up the smallest details possible, while you avoid eye contact with Wanda. 

“Hey,” Wanda’s voice is soft, and you glance at her. Her eyes are locked on yours, and you somehow can’t bring yourself to look away. She looks almost… sad.

“Are you alright?” 

You mentally scoff, your walls crumbling slightly as the green of her eyes threatens to overtake you. “Yeah.”

The clipped tone of your voice rebuilds your walls, the stone solidifying once again. You turn away, walking towards the beginning spot of this scene, not seeing the confusion that overtakes Wanda’s expression. 

A wave of sadness crashes through her, all the times that you’ve been pulling away from her running through her mind as she makes her way towards her own spot. She attempts to meet your eyes again, but you refuse. 

She knows that this scene won't be successfully shot today. 

“And, action.” 

You look up, your character snapping into place quickly, your eyes dark and full of longing. Wanda is startled by the sudden change but snaps into her own character quickly as you walk slowly toward her. 

“Don’t say things like that,” Your voice is low, your emotions swirling in the forefront of your mind. 

“Things like what?”

“Things that sound a lot like love confessions,” You hear your voice break and want to cringe. It fits perfectly for your character, but you’re unused to sounding so weak. 

“Why not?”

Your body is pressed against Wanda’s, her chest grazing yours with each shallow breath she takes. You almost believe that it’s real, just for a moment. You desperately wish it was. 

Wanda’s eyes search yours, and you’re reminded that she’s playing a character. A character that’s falling madly in love with you, unconcerned about the repercussions. A character that couldn’t be further from reality. 

You hesitate again, your body refusing to move your lips closer as your mind wars with itself. 

Wanda sighs, and the director calls out again. You barely hear what she’s saying, your body practically propelling itself away from Wanda, focusing on rebuilding its walls as her hand twitches toward you. 

“It’s alright, “ the director is saying, and you force yourself to focus on her. She’s smiling gently at you, her voice kind, “Everyone has off days, we’ll try again tomorrow. It's been a long week.”

Nodding jerkily at her, you wave off your team, choosing to return to your trailer instead of following them. You’ll deliver your costume later, or have someone come pick it up. But right now, you need to be alone. 

Walking quickly, you practically sigh in relief when you reach your trailer. You’re quick to unlock it, pressing the door open urgently and twisting slightly to close it. 

A hand stops you, delicate fingers wrapping around the door as you look up in shock. You hadn’t realized anyone was following you, but looking into those iridescent green eyes, you understand. 

Wanda says your name, her voice holding a pleading edge to it, and you can’t bring yourself to deny her. 

You open the door wider, silently giving her permission to enter. She brushes past you, fingers twitching but not touching you. She seems to want to touch you, and you try and push down the part of you that wants her to. 

“Why are you…” She hesitates, not knowing what to say. 

Raising your eyebrows, you resign yourself to having this conversation. You knew it was coming, but you find yourself inadequately prepared for it. Standing awkwardly in the middle of your small trailer, you simply stare at Wanda. 

“Why is it so difficult to kiss me?” Wanda’s eyes are sad, and you want to cry. You hadn’t meant to make her fucking sad, and now she looks like a kicked puppy.

The tears that spring into your eyes are unexpected, and you blink furiously as they begin to spill down your cheeks. Wanda steps towards you, but you evade her, opening the door and gesturing for her to leave. You refuse to cry in front of her, not when your heart is seconds away from tearing in two. 

“When I kiss you I want it to be real, I want it to mean something, Wanda.”

The door shuts firmly behind her, and you miss the understanding and longing that appears in her eyes. Wanda turns away, a single tear escaping her. 

Of course it would mean something to her. It would mean everything. 

—

It’s raining, and you want to cry and laugh at the same time. 

Wanda had left you a voicemail. You’d stared at your screen while watching her contact picture pop up as she called you. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to hear her voice, so you let it ring. 

What you hadn’t expected was the voicemail. 

“I just… fuck, I don’t know what I want to say but it would mean something to me. I promise. I- you. I hate this. I hate this distance, I hate that I can’t help you and I hate that I’m falling in love with you.”

The message had ended pretty quickly after that confession. You’d heard a few muttered curse words, and then a dial tone that rang in your ear long after you lowered the phone.

You didn’t know what to do, so you grabbed a rain jacket and started walking. Hoping it will clear your head. Your feet had other plans it seemed, as you found yourself walking up the driveway of Wanda’s home. 

It surprised you, as she lived at least fifteen minutes away by car. You barely remembered the walk there, having been trapped in your own mind as your body brought you towards the only thing you could think of. The person who had consumed your every waking thought, and invaded your dreams.

How fucking typical and cinematic it was, walking up her driveway in the pouring rain. You could see a few lights on, and you begin to prepare a speech. Something super lame and mushy about how much you like… fuck that. How much you love her. 

Fuck. You loved her. 

Of course you did. You’d gotten to know and love the woman behind the famous persona she’d created. The soft, caring woman who loved gardening and puzzles, who hummed along to songs as she cooked, and who looked at you with impossibly soft eyes. 

You knock, and your heart feels like it's about to beat out of your chest. 

Green eyes meet yours, and you recoil. They’re cold and dull, so unlike the usual sparkle that you’re used to, and you feel your walls build higher even as you plead with yourself to lower them. 

Turning, you feel your feet start to walk away, your mind replaying that dead look in her eyes. Your heart fortifies itself, trying not to break as you make your way down the driveway. Tears blur your vision, your ears ringing with embarrassment as you try to remember the way back to your trailer. 

“Wait, just… fuck. Wait.” A firm hand grips your forearm, and you spin in surprise. 

There’s fire behind those green eyes, and you stand still. Wanda’s auburn hair is drenched, rain pelting down on the two of you, running down her perfect face as she blinks at you. 

“I…” She can’t seem to get the words out, her eyes boring into yours. 

Time stands still, the tension thick as you allow yourself to glance at her lips. You feel the words on the tip of your tongue, threatening to escape. You let them. 

“I love you.”

Wanda speaks at the same time, her words slightly faster than yours. Green eyes widen in surprise, and you feel a wave of immense relief sweep through you. 

Rain continues to pour around you, but you barely notice. Within seconds, Wanda’s hands are cupping your face, your own grabbing desperately at her waist as your bodies draw together like magnets. Her lips find yours, and you feel something click into place as your lips slide together effortlessly. 

It feels like coming home after a long day, the months of pining and uncertainty coming to a head as you melt at the feel of her lips against yours. Your shoulders relax, tension seeping out of you as you chuckle. 

Pulling back, you stare at her, watching her eyes crinkle as she mirrors the wide smile on your face. She’s perfect, and you whisper one single thing before your lips find hers again, rain soaking the two of you as you embrace. 

“This is real, I promise.”

---

Dm or comment to be added!

Taglist: @alexawynters @msvenablesbitch @marilynthornhilllover @lifespectator @milkeeteaa @imnotawitch @marvels--slut @justabrokensunshine @dorabledewdroop @wandsmxmff @esposadejoyhuerta

[valkyriexo]

You're Drunk | Changbin

ᑉ³pairing; Changbin x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Sickfic , Comfort, angst with a happy ending

ᑉ³warnings; Alcohol, Arguments, sorrow

ᑉ³Authors Note; a little different that the other ones in this collection. Thank you for all the love :)

Part of the "He helps you when.." collection. Other members parts: Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

"I can't believe you're seriously considering this," Changbin says, his voice tight with barely concealed frustration as he looks at the job offer in your hand.

You can feel his disapproval like a weight on your shoulders, but you can't ignore the excitement bubbling inside you.

"I know it's a big decision, Changbin, but this job could be the opportunity I've been waiting for," you reply, your voice full of hope.

"But what about us? What about our relationship?" Changbin counters, his tone pleading as he searches your eyes for reassurance.

You take a deep breath, the weight of the decision bearing down on you. "I don't want to give up on my dreams. Can't you see that?" you reply.

Changbin's face contorts with hurt and frustration, his voice wavering as he speaks. "Well, it sure seems like you don't care about me," he says, his tone laced with bitterness. "You're willing to throw away everything we have just for some job on the other side of the world."

Tears well up in your eyes as his words hit you like a punch to the gut. "That's not fair, Changbin," you protest, your voice cracking with emotion. "I care about you more than anything. But I also need to think about my future."

Changbin's brows furrow in frustration, his voice tinged with desperation. "But I can provide for you," he says, his tone pleading as he searches your eyes for reassurance. "You don't need to take this job. We can make things work here."

You feel a pang of guilt as you meet his gaze, knowing that his words come from a place of love and concern. "It's not about the money Binnie," you reply, your voice gentle but firm. " I appreciate it. I really do. But I need to work too. I want to have something for myself, I need to have something for myself."

Changbin's expression darkens, hurt flashing in his eyes. "So what, you're saying I'm not enough for you? That I can't provide for you?" he says, his voice rising with each word.

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all," you protest, the tears welling up in your eyes. "You provide so much for me, Changbin, but this is something I need to do for myself. Can't you understand that?"

Changbin's shoulders slump in defeat. "I understand," he replies quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I understand it clearly," he says, grabbing his things and beginning to leave.

"Binnie," you start, your voice trembling with emotion, but he cuts you off with a shake of his head.

"I need some time to think," he says, his voice distant as he turns away, his footsteps echoing in the tense silence that follows.

It was a memory, clear and defined, of a scene that had unfolded just a few days ago. Each detail remained vivid in your mind, as though etched there permanently, refusing to fade with time.

You were alone in the dimly lit apartment, and you found yourself transported back to that moment. The weight of the decision still heavy on your heart, the echoes of your voices reverberating in the quietude of the room. You could almost feel the tension in the air, the raw emotions palpable as if they were still swirling around you.

As you sat there, lost in the labyrinth of your thoughts, you couldn't help but replay the scene over and over again. Each time, the words exchanged between you and Changbin felt sharper, the emotions more intense, as if the memory itself was trying to etch its significance deeper into your consciousness.

With each sip of your drink, you tried to drown out the pain, to numb the ache that resonated within you. But no amount of alcohol could erase the memory, nor could it silence the inner turmoil that ate at your soul.

Days passed in a blur of anguish and solitude. Your apartment became a sanctuary for your sorrow, the only constant in a world that seemed to be crumbling around you. You retreated further into yourself, the outside world fading into insignificance as you grappled with your inner demons.

You hardly had the energy to tend to your basic needs. Your phone lay forgotten and uncharged, its silent screen a stark reminder of the darkness in your life. Meals became an afterthought, mere distractions from the relentless ache in your heart.

Most of your days were spent in tears, the weight of your emotions too heavy to bear alone.

You found yourself curled up on the couch, the soft glow of the lamp casting long shadows across the room. Every corner of your mind is consumed by thoughts of Changbin, his hurt expression haunting your every thought. You replay the argument over and over in your mind, dissecting every word, every nuance, searching for a way to make things right. But no matter how hard you try, the same conclusion stares back at you, cold and unforgiving: 

You and Changbin were drifting further and further apart.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you consider all your options, weighing the pros and cons with painstaking detail. But no matter how hard you try, you can't shake the sinking feeling that no matter what path you choose, it will lead to heartbreak.

With a heavy heart, you bury your face in your hands, the weight of your decision crushing you from all sides. The thought of losing Changbin, of being without him, is almost too much to bear.

As you continue to drink, the tears continue to flow, mixing with the bitter taste of alcohol on your lips. Each sip brings a temporary reprieve from the pain, but as the alcohol dulls your senses, the weight of your sorrow only seems to grow heavier.

Your vision blurs as the room spins around you, the sounds of your own sobs echoing in your ears. You try to steady yourself, to cling to some semblance of control, but the weight of your emotions is too much to bear.

With a heavy heart and weary limbs, you sink further into the cushions, the warmth of the alcohol washing over you like a heavy blanket. Your eyelids grow heavy, the exhaustion of the day catching up with you in a rush.

As the tears continue to fall, you find yourself drifting, slipping further and further into the comforting embrace of sleep. The weight of your sorrow lifts, if only for a moment, as unconsciousness claims you, pulling you into a dreamless slumber.

In the quiet of the room, the only sound is the soft, steady rhythm of your breathing, a stark contrast to the chaos of your thoughts just moments before. 

But in the midst of your slumber, a persistent sound breaks through the silence, pulling you reluctantly back to reality. At first, it's just a faint noise, a distant echo in the depths of your dreams. But as it grows louder, more insistent, you're jolted awake by the realization that someone is knocking at your door.

Your head throbs with the remnants of your earlier drinking, the room spinning as you struggle to sit up. With a groan, you push yourself off the couch, stumbling towards the door with unsteady steps.

Outside, Changbin's voice cuts through the fog of your mind, his words urgent and frantic as he calls out your name. "Hey, are you in there? Open up, Y/N," he says, his voice tinged with worry.

You fumble with the lock, your hands shaking as you struggle to grasp the key. With a click, the door swings open, revealing Changbin's anxious face staring back at you.

He rushes forward, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. "Thank God you're okay. I've been calling and knocking for days," he says, his voice trembling with relief. "What happened? You haven't answered my calls or texts"

But beneath the relief in his voice lies a simmering undercurrent of frustration and concern. "Where have you been, Y/N?" he asks, his tone tinged with reproach. "I've been worried sick. I didn't know if you were hurt, or... or worse."

You flinch away, a surge of anger coursing through your veins. His sudden appearance only serves to reignite the flames of frustration and hurt that had been smoldering within you.

You take a step back, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you glare at him. "Oh, how thoughtful of you to grace me with your presence again," you say, your tone laced with bitterness. "Are you here to torture me some more, or have you finally come to your senses?"

Changbin recoils slightly, his eyes widening in surprise at the venom in your words. "No, Y/N that's not why I'm here," he protests, his voice tinged with desperation. "I came back to apologize, to make things right."

You scoff, the sound bitter on your lips. "Apologize? Is that supposed to make everything better?" You retort, your anger bubbling to the surface. "You left me alone, Changbin. You walked out without a second thought."

"Y/N, I... I'm sorry," he begins, his words cautious, as if walking on eggshells. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did."

You scoff, your anger refusing to abate, fuelled by the raw hurt festering deep within you. "I don't want your apology, Changbin," you snap, with bitterness in your tone. "You don't get to waltz back in here and expect everything to be okay. You hurt me."

Changbin's expression crumples with remorse, his desperation evident in every line of his face. "Y/N, please," he pleads, his voice thick with emotion. "I know I messed up, but I want to make it right. Please give me a chance to make things right between us."

"Why? Why should I?" you counter, your voice tinged with bitterness and hurt.

Changbin's eyes plead with you, his anguish laid bare for you to see. "Because I love you," he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. "Because I can't bear the thought of losing you."

You scoff at his words, the pain in your heart too raw to be assuaged by mere declarations of love. "Oh? Is that supposed to erase everything?" you retort, your voice laced with disbelief. "You let your fears and insecurities drive you away, Changbin. You left me when I needed you the most."

Changbin's shoulders slump with the weight of your accusations, his gaze dropping to the floor in shame. "I know," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I'm sorry. I let my own demons cloud my judgment, and I hurt you in the process. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. Please, Y/N, give me a chance to prove it to you."

His words hang heavy in the air, a fragile plea for forgiveness amidst the wreckage of your relationship.

"I know I can't take back what I said, or the way I left," Changbin admits, his gaze unwavering as he meets your eyes. "But I want you to know that I never meant to make you feel like your dreams didn't matter. They do, Y/N , and I was wrong to make you feel otherwise."

Tears well up in your eyes at his apology, the sincerity in his voice piercing through the wall of hurt and anger that surrounds you. Despite your efforts to remain stoic, your face betrays the conflict within you, the emotions waging a silent battle beneath the surface.

"I understand if you need time," he continues. "But I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I promise to do better, to be there for you, to support you in pursuing your dreams, no matter where they may lead."

Your vision blurs as tears stream down your cheeks, mingling with the remnants of anger and hurt that still linger within you.

"I... I want to forgive you, Changbin," you manage to choke out between sobs, your voice wavering with emotion. "But it's just so hard..."

Your words trail off as you stumble slightly, your balance compromised by the lingering effects of the alcohol from the night before. Changbin's eyes widen in concern as he reaches out to steady you, his touch gentle against your trembling form.

"Are you okay, Y/N ?" he asks, his voice filled with worry as he takes in your disheveled appearance and the telltale signs of a hangover.

You shake your head, the room spinning around you as you struggle to remain upright. "I'm fine," you say, your words slurred with the remnants of sleep and alcohol. "Just... a little dizzy, that's all..."

You feel his arms around you, his warmth a stark contrast to the chill of the night air. Despite your anger, a part of you can't help but lean into his embrace, seeking comfort in his familiar presence.

Changbin's grip tightens around you, his concern palpable. "You're not fine, Y/N," he says, his voice soft but firm. "You're drunk, and you need help."

"I'm fine," you mumble, your words slurring together as you try to steady yourself against him.

But he isn't convinced, his brows furrowing with concern as he studies you intently. And then, realization dawns on his face as he pieces it all together.

"Did you... did you drink because of me?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with a mixture of guilt and sorrow.

You can't bring yourself to meet his gaze, the weight of shame and regret settling heavily on your shoulders. "I... I don't know," you admit, your voice barely audible as you struggle to find the right words. "Maybe... maybe I did..."

Changbin's expression softens, his eyes filled with compassion as he wraps you in a comforting embrace. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "I never meant to drive you to this. I never meant to hurt you like this."

His words cut through the haze in your mind, and for a moment, you feel a flash of resentment. But as you struggle to keep your balance, you realize he's right.

You're not fine, not even close.

Changbin gently lifts you into his arms, cradling you like precious cargo as he carries you to the couch. With careful movements, he sets you down, ensuring you're comfortable before he disappears into the kitchen.

You watch him go, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within you. Despite the lingering tension, you can't help but appreciate Changbin's efforts to take care of you.

Minutes pass, and Changbin returns with a glass of water and a plate of sliced fruits. He places them on the coffee table before sitting beside you, his gaze filled with concern.

"Here, drink this," he says, handing you the glass of water. "It'll help with the dehydration."

You take a sip, grateful for the coolness of the water as it soothes your parched throat. Changbin watches you closely, his brow furrowed with worry. With a soft sigh, he reaches for the plate of sliced fruits, carefully selecting a piece and holding it out to you.

You hesitate for a moment, but the earnestness in Changbin's eyes urges you to comply. You take the fruit from him, feeling the sweetness of it on your tongue as you chew slowly, savoring each bite.

Changbin watches you intently, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he observes your reluctant compliance. He looks relieved, as if seeing you eat brings him a sense of comfort and reassurance.

Once you've finished the fruit, Changbin disappears into the kitchen once more, returning with a small packet of liquid IV and a fresh glass of water.

"Bottoms up." He says handing it to you.

"I don't need you to baby me," you snap, the words sharper than you intended.

Changbin recoils slightly, his expression a mix of hurt and concern. "I-I'm sorry," he stammers. "I just... I just want to make sure you're okay."

You sigh, the weight of your words settling heavily on your shoulders. "I know," you say softly, your tone gentler this time. "And I appreciate it, I really do. But I'm not helpless, Changbin. I can take care of myself."

Changbin's gaze softens, a tender smile playing on his lips. "I know you can, Y/N," he says, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "But that doesn't mean I can't take care of you too. I love you, and seeing you like this... it hurts me too." With gentle care, he offers you another piece of fruit.

You sigh softly, and without a word, you reach out and take the fruit from him.

As you finish the last of the fruit, you notice a shift in your body. The warmth from the alcohol is slowly dissipating, leaving you feeling cold and shivery. Changbin notices your discomfort immediately, his brows furrowing with concern.

"Are you feeling cold?" he asks softly, his voice filled with worry.

You nod weakly, the tremors becoming more pronounced as the alcohol wears off. Changbin springs into action, disappearing into the bedroom to retrieve some blankets. He returns moments later, a stack of soft blankets in his arms.

"Here, let me help you get warm," he says gently, draping the blankets over you with careful hands.

As he tucks the blankets around you, you feel a sudden urge to be closer to him. His warmth is inviting, comforting, and you find yourself reaching out to him, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards you.

"Binnie," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, "can you stay with me?"

Changbin's eyes soften at your request, a tender smile gracing his lips. Without hesitation, he settles beside you on the couch, wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace.

"Of course, Y/N," he replies, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "I'll stay with you as long as you need me."

"I'm sorry, Changbin," you whisper, your voice laced with remorse. "I didn't mean to push you away. I know you're just trying to help."

Changbin's smile softens, his gaze filled with understanding. "I know, Y/N," he says, his voice gentle. "And I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to make you feel helpless. I just want to take care of you because I love you."

You lean into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest. In that moment, you realize how much you truly love him, how much he means to you.

As you snuggle closer to Changbin, resting your head against his chest, you feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. It's a comforting sound, a reminder of his presence and the love that surrounds you.

But as you listen to the gentle thud of his heart, you feel it begin to quicken, a subtle shift in tempo that doesn't go unnoticed. Changbin's arms around you tighten slightly, as if he's trying to hold you closer, to shield you from the storm of emotions brewing within him.

"Y/N," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper, "I'm sorry for everything. I was wrong to argue with you about the job. You should take it. It's an incredible opportunity, and I shouldn't have stood in your way."

You lift your head from his chest, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. "Changbin, it's okay," you say gently, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead. "I understand why you were worried, but you were just looking out for me."

Changbin's expression softens at your words, but there's still a hint of sadness in his eyes. "I know, but I shouldn't have been so selfish," he admits, his voice tinged with regret. "You deserve to chase your dreams, Y/N, even if it means being apart from me."

"Y/N," he murmurs, his voice tinged with uncertainty, "I want what's best for you. And if this job is truly the opportunity you've been waiting for, then you should take it."

You lift your head from his chest, meeting his gaze with a furrowed brow. "But what about us, Bin?" you ask softly, your voice filled with apprehension. "What about our relationship?"

Changbin's expression softens, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. "I want to be with you, Y/N," he says earnestly, his voice filled with conviction. "But I also want you to pursue your dreams. You shouldn't have to choose between us."

You feel a pang of guilt at his words, the weight of his sacrifice settling heavily on your shoulders. "I don't want to lose you, Binnie," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Changbin's fingers trace gentle circles on your back, his touch a soothing balm to your conflicted soul. "You won't lose me, Y/N," he assures you.

For a moment, there's silence between you, the weight of your words hanging in the air like a promise. And then, without warning, Changbin pulls you into a tight embrace, holding you close as if he never wants to let you go.

"I love you, Y/N," he murmurs against your hair, his voice filled with love and gratitude. "I love you more than anything in this world."

And as you melt into his embrace, surrounded by the warmth of his love, you realize that this is where you belong - in Changbin's arms, with his heart beating in time with yours.

ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | © 2024 Valkyriexo 

[americanwh0rerstory]

jack off [Tate Langdon]

summery: Y/N isn’t around so tate jacks off thinking about them

content warning: Masturbation, use of Y/N, f!reader, cumming on a photograph, poorly described masturbation in an attempt for me to learn how to write

A/N: just a quick scenario, not the greatest but it’s something

NSFW MDNI: CONSUMPTION IS OWN FAULT

“f-fuck” he groans, his grip tightening around his shaft as he pumps his hand up and down it repeatedly, occasionally looking at how his foreskin rolls over his tip with every up stroke. he lay on your bed with his legs spread, dick standing at attention, and his shirt hitched up slightly exposing his midriff. Soft whines and gasps escaped from between his slightly parted lips when he sped up, his breath coming in quick and desperate pants from the increase in speed

“Y/N, don’t stop” he whines, his voice needy and desperate like it always was when he was around you, he craved your touch yet that was the downside of being dead: he had to wait for you to be ready, to have free time. he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind momentarily though and began daydreaming about your hands wrapping around his cock, how your tongue looks giving small kitten licks to his slit when beads of precum formed, how your boobs bounced with every exaggerated movement, the soft skin on your thighs… fuck he needed you

his daydreams got him bucking into his hand even faster and with more desperation if that was even possible. his hand moving at lightning speed, rubbing vigorously up and down his shaft. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, please Y/N” he whined, chanting your name like it was a ritual to summon you but much to his dismay it didn’t. he just kept daydreaming whilst sliding his hand over his cock before he noticed the photo on your nightstand

he retrieved the photo with his free hand, it was a photo of you and your friends. it wasn’t a lot but it was good enough for him. he stared at the photo, only at you though, his movements faster now that he had a visual representation of you. he imagined undressing you, removing you from the clothes in the photo, kissing down your torso, tasting your nectar…

“Y/N- fuck-“ he moans loudly, his body trembling as his orgasm rippled through him. he watched as his cum spilled over the photo, coating your smiling face in a glossy sheen of tate.

once he caught his breath, he replaced the photo and pulled his shirt off. he knew you liked to wear his clothes so he left his shirt folded on your bed for you, and also as a sign that he had been in there whilst you was out. he left the shirt on your pillow and the cum-covered photo on your nightstand before leaving the room, going back to waiting for you

A/N: how the fuck does one write cumming scenes. how am i meant to describe how it feels. i think this is the only downside to my smut

[speirslore]

band of brothers: types of kisses hc

(a/n: sorry this is so long… i tried to include a lot of easy company... but if your fav isn't here, please just send an ask and i'll add them!)

send an ask if you would like to be on my taglist! :) (taglist: @ronsparky)

[dick winters]

cautious kisses

dick does not like pda only because he's extremely private and wants your relationship to be for the two of you only... no matter how nosy nix is

but there still are occasional kisses to your cheek when he’s more relaxed in front of other officers

he's tender and careful too; dick is always cupping your face, a thumb brushing across your cheek or brushing hair away from your face

dick is always very gentle and a little unsure at times

especially at the beginning of your relationship, he feels incredibly inexperienced, or at the very least, out of practice

he’s very okay with you taking the lead when kissing because he doesn't want to do anything wrong

dick is tentative and private but very into it... it's a good thing he has an insane amount self discipline because otherwise he would be kissing you 24/7

[lewis nixon]

speaking of self discipline… lew does have it but he also chooses to ignore it most of the time, if he wants to kiss you then he's going to kiss you

so many morning kisses

honestly just anytime in bed because lew plays fast and loose with 'morning' and sleep cycles

absolutely never wants to get up, has to be coaxed with a lot of kisses and cuddling, it is a huge ordeal

he always kisses with some degree of mess, a little uncontrolled, perhaps a little desperate

a lot of sudden kisses too like you think you're safe and then boom he’s all of the sudden in the room, pulling you towards him

will take advantage of any opportunity no matter how small... does he have any shame? (no, not really)

lew does shockingly get a little shy sometimes about pda though

“i don’t want to rub it in their faces…" he'll insist, "y'know... what they don’t have”

sureeee... the blush on his cheeks says otherwise though

[carwood lipton]

carwood's speciality is definitely comforting kisses

lip is always paying attention to you and what you need and how you feel and that extends to physical affection

always wants you to feel okay, better than okay, great

and if a kiss can make you feel better then he’s more than willing to oblige

affection between the two of you is every casual and common, always kissing, holding hands, some sort of physical touch

constantly smiling in between kisses

he’s just that happy and loves you so much

but the comforting kisses & affection goes both ways

kissing the stress and worry away from his face and tracing his scar with your thumb before kissing it gently, your noses almost touching after you pull away to catch your breath, the two of you wearing twin smiles

and whenever you say goodbye or reunite, you both try not to make a scene, but it's always a little bit of a scene tbh... like having to be without carwood's kisses for a week is basically criminal

all the other men think it's extremely cute though, don't worry

[ron speirs]

stolen kisses (haha)

even his kisses are stolen!

he will always come out of nowhere and will always find time for a smooch

every time you think surely ron isn't in this area, he's supposed to be somewhere else, he's not in this building... you are proven wrong

is incredibly good at carving out time to see you... and finding private places for the two of you

like he's definitely scoped a few places out before he goes to find you

one time you were in his office kissing and someone knocked on the door and he huffs and pouts because he has to break away from you, even if it's only for a second- he's not happy about it

ron barks out, “not now," before returning to you will a warm, soft smile

heavy on kisses instead of words

ron is very physical...whenever you finally pull away from a kiss... you can always see things/emotions in his eyes that you know he's not ready to say yet and finds difficult to articulate

[don malarkey]

soooo many shy kisses

okay yes, don is kind of unhinged (stealing a motorcycle, drinking methanol, etc) but not with relationships... like flirting?? kissing??

he's still incredibly enthusiastic about your relationship... very much so

but he gets really shy around you, especially with kissing

turns beet red so easily, like you love kissing him and pulling away to see him blushing all the way up to the tips of his ears <3

it's just so fun and he's having a great time... and don cannot hide his emotions or what he’s thinking so whatever he's thinking always comes out when you're kissing

"god, you're beautiful. you should bring this dress to paris when we go next weekend. oh- y'know what, skip still owes me that $40 i lent him. i really need that for next week's pass so-"

"don," you interrupt gently, brushing a hand across his jaw

he'll blush and smile sheepishly, "right, i'm shutting up, back to kissing..."

he's shy yet so excited and wants to do everything right, willing to learn and wants to learn, and just wants his inner emotions and love for you translate with physical affection

and it definitely does! don is extremely endearing and you love him for it

[joe toye]

joe's kisses are always very intense

his eye contact, his touch, his raspy voice… everything is intense in the best way possible

his hands already feel like fire, so warm against your own skin

he loves just laying next to you in bed, just observing you and taking it all in

his passion definitely goes along with the intensity

he's also extremely private about affection with you, just because it means so much to him

tends to get vulnerable and emotional very easily

and really likes pillow talk and just listening to your voice, your stories, and your perspective

he likes your reassurance too, your love, he's never felt anything like this before

so whenever he can manage to have free time alone with you, he's always savoring it

joe could kiss you for hours, he truly loves taking it all in, going slow, and savoring the time you have together

[george luz]

late night kisses are a staple for the two of you

george gets so excited being with you he doesn't want to sleep

the biggest sleepover vibes

like you both very seriously decide to go to bed but then george says something funny or does his dike impression and then you both start laughing and talking again

and kissing again, sometimes the impressions are so good you have to reward him

you guys have a lot of late nights because of this

also do kisses for warmth and sharing body heat count?

huddling in a foxhole together, in the thick of it together, like yes they don't have much food, supplies, or ammo but george is not going to let them take kisses away from him too

oh my god, laughing in between kisses

sometimes he really can’t take himself that seriously

george is like don and gets very excited

he just feels so lucky to have you and has to kiss you accordingly

kissing you and just being with you can make him a little emotional… a happy little high

cigarettes have nothing on you and your kisses!

[babe heffron]

babe is kind of like a baby deer, he's a little clumsy and sometimes unsure but he's definitely got the spirit

he is confident but he does tend to second guess himself when it comes to you, he just doesn't want to mess anything up.

like what if he uses too much tongue or he headbutts you on accident... he's just overthinking it

and sometimes you just have to grab his arm and pull him toward you and kiss him yourself

when you're alone, babe lovesss laying on your chest letting you run your fingers through his hair and kissing his forehead... but don't tell anyone

jk he doesn't care if anyone knows (and they absolutely do know)

and the guys can't even tease him that hard about it, that's much everyone loves babe... they're just happy for him tbh

babe definitely gets a little needy sometimes like where’s his daily kiss allotment :(

and he can get clingy... will 100% wrap his arms around, you pressing kisses to your neck and shoulder just because he hasn't seen you that much today

[eugene roe]

tired kisses are a doc roe staple

poor eugene, he's exhausted and jaded... a lot of the time… and the rest of the company gives the two of you space as often as they can because they know how much your presence helps him

tired kisses as in he is putting in effort but his lips don't move as fast or as needy

he's more languid and calm, and it's very enticing

forehead kisses too omg

he lovesss when you kiss his forehead; pull him against your body, your chest, your arms and he feels safe and secure

he likes kissing the top of your head too, his nose in the crown of your hair while murmuring something in french

you catch various words in french that after spending so much time with gene you can understand now

like mon ange, mon amour, ma moitié (my better half? sobbing)

your presence is so grounding for him and makes him feel more normal, like he's not constantly surrounded by death and pain

you make him feel like he doesn't have to be constantly on edge, like he can take his helmet off and not be on alert, like he hasn't totally lost himself in his job... your kisses are so grounding for him

[buck compton]

a lot of reassuring kisses

like sometimes he just has to kiss the worry off of your face

and vice versa, towards the end of the war it's not even just kisses but your presence and touch alone become extremely reassuring for him

but also... buck can be so cocky sometimes, he loves showing you off

you secretly (not so secretly) love it... like sorry it's hot

like once when the two of you were at a pub in england... he's gambling, he's drinking, he's smoking, and ofc he's kissing you!

what else is he supposed to do when he wins at darts or cards... come on

the guys hype him up and just hide their jealousy because you and buck very often seem like relationship goals

he's always touching you, like usually has a firm grip around your waist

always laughing together, everything you do together automatically seems so intimate

like in a room with the other guys... they do feel like they're intruding

just because you and buck are in the corner laughing and talking together, the love and intimacy feels like it takes over the entire room

it's just so passionate and obvious he's head over heels and that definitely comes across in his kisses

[joe liebgott]

joe's kisses strike me as tender but demanding and needy at the same time

he's a taker.... but also a giver so it evens out

some very, very eager kisses

like pushing you up against a wall, hand sliding up your thigh and mouth working down your neck...

joe is a great multitasker!

accidentally bites your lip once, it wasn't that hard or anything but he went bright red and was apologizing profusely, but also was like, "did you like it though..."

(you did but...)

bottom line is joe's just a tiny bit feral around you at all times honestly

you never know when he’s going to pull you into his lap and kiss you and you both loveeee when you sit on his lap

the men are very used to it by now

he also likes living on the edge, like who cares if the patrol's supposed to be back any minute now and could walk in at any time?

messy kisses like his mouth is just everywhere basically, he wastes absolutely no time

he is so noisy: whines, groans, moans, laughs, you get everything with joe

also loves when you tug and pull on his hair while kissing, he specifically requests it

but joe can also get incredibly soft and sweet and tender but that's strictly for your eyes only... he has a reputation to uphold ofc

he totally blows you kisses whenever one of you leaves the room... it starts ironically but now he really does enjoy doing it

[david webster]

oh david is just so romantic

like definitely over the top romantic... it's so serious to him

he's read enough (a lot) romance novels and craves that book and movie worthy relationship and love

his life IS a victorian romance novel and he will act accordingly

everyone else thinks it's incredibly cheesy but you think it’s really cute

it means so much passion whenever he's talking about you, talking to you, kissing you, etc

he's always trying to think of the right words to say and you’re like “david, just kiss me please”

ofc he obliges and he is very good at it

his touch is just always so tender, you can feel the passion and love through his kisses

he's a little hesitant sometimes, starts off slow but it's extremely easy to get him worked up and make him lose some of that self control that he works so hard to maintain and portray

[floyd talbert]

confident kisses

yeah... yeah, what more is there to say

floyd just has a way (from a lot of practice) with his mouth

he's also very attentive and is always surveying how you're reacting and feeling, always wants to make you feel good and lovesss watching your reactions

he loves when you make noises of surprise or pleasure, he always ends up grinning into your kiss, he just thinks it's sooo cute

however i do think the more serious your relationship gets and the more feelings that are attached, the more likely he gets nervous... just a little bit

but that's more with relationship things

the kissing he has down pat for sure

takes the lead, cups your cheek, always knows what to do with his hands and the perfect the angle to tilt his head

will sometimes stop super close to your lips and just grin, teasing kisses

floyd loves having all of your attention to himself, when you loop your arms around his neck, when your lips are on his face, when you're talking quietly only for him to hear, when you're the only one that actually calls him floyd, ugh he just melts

[shifty powers]

shifty is the absolute king of gentle kisses

like so so shy

especially at the beginning of your relationship, you definitely have to kiss him first and initiate everything

he's so scared of reading the moment wrong and messing everything up

which you always reassure him that he won't

he has literally the entire company hyping him up, they've been waiting for y'all to get together for basically years now

but once he's more comfortable, he's always wrapping his arms around you, smiling, and kissing you freely

he struggles to articulate all love and emotions he's feeling but you still love listening to him talk about it

he just blurts out "i love you so much" one day after kissing, when you're laying in bed in austria

and he immediately looks terrified, not that he regrets what he said because he most certainly means it, but he doesn't know what you're going to say

but it's only a few seconds before you grin and throw your arms around him, "i love you too," you mutter before kissing him, a little more intense, and with a little more fervor than your usual kisses

[bill guarnere]

his nick name of wild bill definitely applies to his kissing style

absolutely wild

sometimes borderline unhinged

especially if he's been drinking or partying

but also... if it's the two of you alone, having a mellow morning or night, bill does get soft

the other guys aren't even surprised by that, they know he has a soft and gentle side to him, they can see it whenever you're with him

bill is sporting a basically permanent smile while watching you

trying to burn the visual of you into his brain so he can keep it forever

his kisses are encapsulating and very distracting

he hates seeing you upset or stressed and he uses kisses and physical affection to help

loves holding you and being the big spoon

and you love it too

it's soooo comforting

and it's never easy to not be constantly reminded that you're in the middle of a war, about to jump into france, etc, but with him, his firm arms around you, it's a little easier to forget

[chuck grant]

chuck strikes me as very confident, kind of like tab

he just wants to appreciate you!

and shower you with love

he will never run out of ways and words to compliment you

he's been admiring you from afar for sooo long, now that your in his arms it feels incredibly surreal

his kisses are always firm and secure

and chuck really likes when you take the lead and take what you want from him

being away from you always stirs something extremely confident and desperate in him

really enjoys holding your hand

always having physical contact with you, that's a necessity

ooo... he loves having a hand on your thigh

especially if he can sneak it under the table during dinner or a meeting

just his hand sliding up and down, gripping and then releasing, and then looking at his innocent yet knowing smile...

that definitely leads to some intense kisses, your hands running through his hair, hand cupping his jawline, you leading the show

he lovesss getting a reaction from you

[savannahsdeath]

hii i love ur stories, and i was wondering if you could do a one-shot where ellie won't admit it, but she LOVES being a sub and just listening to you 🫣

SUB!TOP!ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER

mdni please<3

warnings: 18+!! sub!top!ellie, oblivious!reader, making out, a liiiitttleee of thigh reading, js smut

writers note: im a sucker for dom!ellie but my first req was sub!ellie and now it just has a separate place in my brain.. yeah, i need both. switch!ellie lover i guess💪💪 also this ones sub!top!ellie because im soooo in love w her like awshhzhsv

you always saw ellie as the firm, rough and confident one. as the 'don't tell me what to do' one. and definitely the straight-forward one. you wouldn't even think it's the complete otherwise, especially not while grinding on her lap. your lips were connected for a few minutes now, and everytime you pulled away to catch your breath a line of saliva built a bridge between you. you were needy, ellie desperate and the whole situation really messy. quite a combo.

"ellie..." you whined after freeing your tongue.

she pulled you back into her, holding onto the back of your neck. "what is it, doll?"

"mhh-" a week sound escaped your mouth, as you struggled to calm down and not act as if you just ran a marathon (because you didn't, of course, but that's how you felt). "touch me..."

you didn't realize she kept her hands only on your head because she was shy. you never thought she could be shy at all. your request, though, awakened something in her. she hungrily slid her slim fingers beneath your shirt, where they rubbed soothing shapes into your skin.

"like that?" she laughed, or at least you guessed she did, because the sensations made it hard for you to tell.

your answer was a one word, but a keyword. "more."

with that, her hands unfastened your bra and threw it somewhere on the ground. she turned you around, making you lean your back on her chest. your shirt covered the scene - her playing with your hard nipples, that didn't feel so sensitive until now. her hair fell on your face, slightly covering it, as she bowed her head to kiss your neck. your pussy sent a needy impulse through the rest of your body, signaling you this is what you needed, before the pulsating changed it's message to a 'not enough'. ellie seemed to notice it, and one of her hands untied the knot of your cute pyjama-shorts. the elastic at your hips widened to make room for her hand, and it carefully slipped underneath the waistband, though stayed on top of your underwear. she followed the wet path with her middle finger, arriving to it's source. she didn't put any pressure onto your body, leaving you unsatisfied.

"please- please, do it." you nodded, fighting the urge to press her hand towards you.

she was more than happy to do it, her hand avoiding now also your panties and making contact with your bare body. you shuddered at the coldness she brought with her, but things quickly got heated.

your head found support in her shoulder, resting on it, as her pointing finger rubbed your clit and the next two lazily waited at your entrance, collecting everything that came out of it.

"do you want me to do it?" she asked. it wasn't the taunting, teasing, playful tone. it was a concerned, shy and hesitating one. one you weren't used to hear from her.

you frowned, wiping your wet, drooled mouth with the palm of your hand. "are you... really asking me that?" you wanted to add '...or am i dreaming?' but that was too much for you now, and your throat refused to work.

"i only want to do things you want me to do." she whispered, sounding almost ashamed about admitting that.

she continued the trail of sappy little kissed on your neck, somewhere where the vocal cords are, and you thought that's the main reason they're not working.

you couldn't hide your surprise but stayed quiet, though not really by choice. she thanked god you couldn't feel her own wet spot, which was probably bigger than yours and still growing each time you asked her to do something for you. even if your commands weren't out of your dominance, even if you had no idea how they turn her on, she only waited for you to ask for more, or less, anything would satisfy her, as long as she can satisfy you.