#but yeah... me dropping something without breaking it is WORSE than him dropping and actually breaking it...

[solxamber]

Hello! I, unapologetically and shamelessly, love love loveeeee buff ladies, id like to see how the second-years, + leona, jack, malleus and vil react to the only female student of nrc that can also carry them no problemo, no sweat🤭🤭🤭

added Lilia in for funsies, hope you don't mind and thank you for waiting so long!!

Second Years + Leona, Jack, Vil, Malleus, Lilia x Buff! Fem! Reader

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle would initially view your incredible strength with disbelief and a hint of skepticism. The idea of someone so effortlessly strong, and a female student at that, would challenge the traditional rules and expectations ingrained in him.

When he finally witnesses you in action—whether it’s carrying something impossibly heavy or, worse, someone else—he’d stand frozen, staring with wide eyes and a flush creeping across his face. "That is… certainly impressive," he’d mutter, trying to regain his composure.

However, if you ever picked him up, he’d be a spluttering mess. “Unhand me this instant! This is entirely inappropriate!” he’d exclaim, his voice high-pitched with indignation.

Despite his protests, there’d be a tiny part of him that felt oddly reassured by your strength. After all, it’s not often someone can lift him with such care and ease.

Over time, Riddle would quietly admire your abilities, though he’d never outright say it unless pushed. His respect for you would deepen as he realized your strength isn’t just physical but also tied to your determined and confident nature.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona’s initial reaction to your strength would be a raised eyebrow and a nonchalant shrug, he’s used to the strong women back home, after all.

But the first time he actually saw you lifting something—or someone—effortlessly, his sharp eyes would narrow slightly, and a smirk would spread across his face. "Huh. Didn’t think herbivores came that strong," he’d comment lazily, though the glint of interest in his gaze would betray his amusement.

If you picked him up, however, the teasing would take a turn. “What do you think you’re doing?” he’d grumble, though he’d make no effort to get down. Instead, he’d lean back slightly in your arms, acting as though being carried was the most natural thing in the world.

"You’re lucky I don’t care enough to make this a big deal," he’d mutter, but the flick of his tail would betray how much he actually enjoyed it.

Leona would respect your strength but wouldn’t openly praise it—he’d show his appreciation in subtle ways, like trusting you to handle difficult tasks or letting you take the lead in tough situations.

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie would immediately see the practical benefits of your strength and wouldn’t hesitate to make jokes about it. "Oi, you’re like a walking moving service, huh? Betcha could carry all my shopping bags with one hand."

His tone would be playful, but there’d be genuine admiration behind his words. Seeing you carry heavy objects—or people—without breaking a sweat would make him stare in awe (just for a moment though!)

If you carried him, Ruggie would laugh even harder, playfully clinging to you. "Careful, don’t drop me, yeah? I got big dreams!"

While he might make light of the situation, there’d be a part of him that felt incredibly safe in your presence. He’d trust you more than he trusted most people, knowing you had the strength to protect and support not just him but anyone who needed it.

Over time, Ruggie would take pride in being your friend, often bragging to others about your incredible abilities.

Jack Howl

Jack would be one of the few people to respect your strength without a hint of doubt or hesitation. As someone who values physical fitness and discipline, he’d immediately recognize how hard you must have worked to achieve your abilities.

"You’re really strong," he’d say bluntly the first time he saw you in action, his tail wagging slightly as he observed you with admiration. Jack would likely ask to train with you, hoping to learn from your techniques and perhaps even find a friendly rival in you.

If you ever picked him up, Jack would be caught completely off guard. His ears would flatten, and he’d stammer, "W-what are you doing?! I can walk just fine!"

Despite his protests, he wouldn’t struggle too much, secretly marveling at how effortlessly you carried him. Afterward, he’d apologize for overreacting and thank you for helping him.

Jack would see you as a dependable ally and someone he could always count on, and he’d quietly admire the strength and determination you brought to every situation.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul would be utterly flustered by your strength, especially if he witnessed it firsthand. The logical part of him would be impressed—after all, having someone with your abilities on his side could be quite advantageous.

However, the more self-conscious part of him would struggle to process how effortlessly you could do something that would leave him winded. "You… certainly have an unusual amount of strength," he’d say, adjusting his glasses and avoiding your gaze.

If you ever carried him, Azul’s reaction would be a mix of mortification and grudging acceptance.

"W-what do you think you’re doing?! Put me down this instant!" he’d protest, but as he realized how steady and strong your hold was, his protests would fade into awkward silence.

Once he was back on solid ground, he’d clear his throat and mumble a thanks, clearly embarrassed but oddly grateful.

Over time, Azul would grow to appreciate your strength and even rely on you in situations that called for it, though he’d always try to mask his dependence with formalities and business-like excuses.

Jade Leech

Jade would be thoroughly intrigued by your strength and composure, finding it a delightful surprise. "How fascinating," he’d murmur with a small smile, studying you intently.

He’d probably ask a few pointed questions about how you developed your abilities, though his tone would remain polite and composed. If he saw you carrying something—or someone—effortlessly, he’d remark, "You’re truly full of surprises."

If you picked him up, Jade would chuckle softly, seemingly unfazed. "My, my. I never thought I’d find myself in this position," he’d say, clearly amused.

He wouldn’t struggle or protest, instead observing the situation with keen interest.

Afterward, he’d tease you lightly about your strength but would also express genuine admiration, finding your abilities both impressive and endearing.

Floyd Leech

Floyd would be absolutely ecstatic about your strength and would make it his mission to see how far he could push your limits.

"Shrimpy! Pick me up! Do it, do it, do it!" he’d exclaim, practically throwing himself at you. The first time you carried him, he’d laugh uncontrollably, flailing his legs and making exaggerated comments about how fun it was. "You’re the best! Strong Shrimpy is my favorite Shrimpy!"

Floyd would constantly pester you to carry him again, treating it like a game. While his enthusiasm might be overwhelming at times, it’d be clear that he genuinely admired your strength and found your abilities endlessly entertaining.

He’d also brag about you to anyone who’d listen, making it clear that he thought you were extremely interesting.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim would be absolutely delighted by your strength, his bright smile lighting up even more as he watched you carry things—or people—around with ease.

"Wow, you’re amazing! I didn’t know you were so strong!" he’d say with pure excitement, clapping his hands together.

Kalim wouldn’t hesitate to shower you with praise and would likely ask if you could teach him a thing or two about how you became so strong.

Uf you ever picked him up, Kalim would laugh joyfully, throwing his arms around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. "This is so much fun! You should carry me around more often!" he’d exclaim, his cheerful energy making it impossible not to smile.

Kalim would admire you deeply, not just for your physical abilities but also for your kind and easygoing nature.

He’d see you as a source of strength in every sense of the word and would look up to you as a close friend and role model.

Jamil Viper

Jamil’s initial reaction to your strength would be subtle surprise, though he’d quickly mask it with his usual calm demeanor. "Impressive," he’d remark with a slight nod, his sharp eyes studying you with curiosity.

Jamil would be intrigued by your abilities but wouldn’t make a big deal out of it, preferring to observe you quietly from a distance.

However, deep down, he’d feel a twinge of admiration for how effortlessly you carried yourself, both literally and figuratively.

If you picked him up, Jamil would tense immediately, his eyes widening as he muttered, "What are you doing? Put me down!" Though his tone might sound irritated, there’d be a faint blush on his cheeks, betraying his embarrassment.

Once he was back on solid ground, he’d clear his throat and pretend nothing happened, though he’d secretly appreciate how strong and dependable you were.

Jamil would quietly respect your abilities and would come to see you as someone he could trust in times of need, even if he never outright admitted it.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil would be both impressed and intrigued by your strength, though he’d maintain his composed demeanor as he acknowledged it. "Well, aren’t you full of surprises," he’d say with a raised eyebrow, his tone carrying a hint of approval.

Vil would appreciate your abilities as a testament to your dedication and discipline, though he might offer some teasing remarks about how you should ensure your strength doesn’t compromise your elegance.

If you picked him up, Vil’s reaction would be a mix of indignation and surprise. "Excuse me? What do you think you’re doing?" he’d demand, though there’d be no mistaking the faint flush on his cheeks.

Once the initial shock wore off, he’d sigh and compose himself, commenting, "If you insist on doing something so bold, at least make sure you’re doing it gracefully."

Despite his protests, Vil would respect your abilities and admire how effortlessly you seemed to balance strength and confidence, though he’d rarely express his admiration openly.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus would be genuinely fascinated by your strength, his eyes lighting up with curiosity the first time he saw you in action. "You possess remarkable power," he’d say, his tone carrying genuine admiration.

As someone who values strength and capability, Malleus would immediately see you as someone worthy of respect and would likely seek out your company more often.

He’d find your abilities both impressive and endearing, particularly because they set you apart from others at NRC.

If you ever picked him up, Malleus would be surprised but not offended. Instead, he’d tilt his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips as he remarked, "You are full of surprises, aren’t you?"

He’d remain calm and composed, treating the situation as if it were entirely normal.

Afterward, he’d express his admiration for your strength more openly, likely sharing stories of powerful warriors from his homeland and how you reminded him of them.

Malleus would hold you in high regard, seeing you as a kindred spirit and a source of strength and stability.

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia would be absolutely delighted by your strength, his mischievous grin widening as he watched you in action. "Oh, how wonderful!" he’d exclaim, clearly impressed.

Lilia would find your abilities both fascinating and entertaining, and he’d likely tease you playfully about how you could easily carry anyone who needed it.

If you picked him up, Lilia would laugh heartily, clearly enjoying the experience. "How refreshing! It’s been centuries since someone carried me like this," he’d say, his tone light and amused.

Lilia would admire your strength not just for its physical aspect but also for how it reflected your determination and spirit.

He’d see you as someone truly special and would delight in telling stories of your (slightly exaggerated) feats to anyone who’d listen.

Silver

Silver would be quietly impressed by your strength, his calm demeanor remaining unchanged even as he watched you lift heavy objects—or people—with ease. "You’re incredibly strong," he’d remark simply, his tone carrying genuine admiration.

Silver wouldn’t make a big deal out of it but would silently respect your abilities, seeing them as a reflection of your dedication and resilience.

If you ever picked him up, Silver’s reaction would be surprisingly composed. "Oh," he’d say softly, blinking in mild surprise.

He wouldn’t protest or struggle, trusting you completely and even finding the experience oddly comforting. Afterward, he’d thank you sincerely, his admiration for you growing even stronger.

Silver would see you as a dependable and trustworthy ally, someone who could be relied upon in any situation.

Masterlist

[acklesarchives]

Breaking point - Beau A

Beau Arlen x fem!reader

A fight between you and Beau spirals out of control, exposing all the fear and love you’ve been too afraid to say out loud — until the only way left to hold on is to feel it.

Content warnings ; fighting, smut, angry sex, p in v (don’t take after their example), fingering, morning sex

Word count ; 2,429

Minors please do not interact !!!!

It started small.

It always did.

First it was the late nights. Beau not answering your calls after a long shift.

The way he stopped reaching for your hand without thinking.

The way his eyes started looking through you, sometimes, instead of at you.

You knew the signs.

You’d been through enough goodbyes in your life to recognize the beginning of the end.

And it hurt.

But what hurt worse was that he wouldn’t talk to you about it.

Every time you tried, Beau just smiled that same tired, careful smile and said, “I’m fine, darlin’. You’re worryin’ too much.”

It made you crazy.

It made you angry.

Because you weren’t stupid.

You could feel him slipping through your fingers and he was acting like you were imagining it.

Tonight was supposed to be different.

You’d stayed late at the station, waiting for him. Brought him dinner from that little place he loved — the one you used to sneak off to during slow shifts, eating in the truck bed under the stars.

You sat there for two hours.

Waiting.

When he finally came out, Beau didn’t even look surprised to see you.

Didn’t smile.

Didn’t say he was glad you waited.

Just said, tired and stiff, “You didn’t have to do that.”

You stood there, holding the damn takeout bag like an idiot, heart dropping straight into your stomach.

“Yeah,” you said, voice sharper than you meant. “I’m starting to realize that.”

Beau sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Already shutting down. Already pulling away.

That was it.

You snapped.

“You gonna keep pretending everything’s fine, Beau?” you demanded, stepping closer. “Gonna keep feeding me bullshit ’til I finally give up and leave on my own?”

He stiffened.

That slow, defensive posture you knew way too well.

“Don’t put words in my mouth, honey.”

“Someone has to!” you shot back, chest heaving. “Because you sure as hell aren’t saying a damn thing worth listening to.”

People were starting to glance over from the parking lot, but you didn’t care.

You wanted him to feel it.

To feel you.

“God, Beau,” you laughed bitterly, blinking back furious tears. “You say you care. You say you want me. But you act like you’re just waitin’ for an excuse to let me walk away.”

He flinched like you’d slapped him.

“That what you really think of me?” he said, voice low and ragged.

You stared at him, your whole chest aching.

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” you whispered.

And you meant it.

For a moment, Beau just looked at you — so much pain in his face it almost knocked the breath out of you.

But then he shook his head, muttering something under his breath, and turned toward his truck.

Without thinking, you grabbed his arm.

Tried to pull him back.

“Don’t you dare walk away,” you hissed.

He turned — fast, eyes flashing — and for a second you thought he might actually yell. Might finally break that damn wall between you.

Instead, he bit out

“Get in the truck.”

You blinked, stunned.

“What?”

“I said, get in the truck,” Beau repeated, voice low and furious. “You wanna fight? Fine. But not here.”

You hesitated — heart pounding, half of you wanting to scream at him right there — but something in his face stopped you.

Something scared.

So you climbed into the passenger seat, slamming the door.

And Beau drove — silent, tense — back to his place.

The second you walked through the door, the second it shut behind you — you turned on him again, the pressure finally boiling over.Beau was right behind you, voice rough and biting.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me.”

You spun around, chest heaving. “What else am I supposed to do, Beau? Stand here and beg you to care?”

His jaw flexed. His hands were fisted at his sides, like he was fighting the urge to grab something — grab you.

“You know damn well that’s not what this is about.”

You laughed, bitter and broken. “Then what the hell is this about?” you shot back, your throat already tight. “Because you sure as hell don’t act like someone who wants to stay.”

For a moment, Beau didn’t say anything.

He just looked at you — really looked at you — like he was seeing every inch of hurt you’d been hiding.

Then, low and dangerous, he said:

“I never wanted to hurt you, honey. But you think pushin’ me away’s gonna hurt less?”

Your breath hitched. You hated him for sounding so soft when you wanted to stay mad.

“You already hurt me,” you said, voice cracking despite yourself.

And that — that — was what broke him.

One second he was across the room; the next, he was in front of you, grabbing your wrists and pressing you back against the door with his whole body.

Not rough. Not cruel.

Desperate.

Like he thought if he didn’t hold onto you right now, you’d disappear.

“You think I don’t fucking care?” he rasped, forehead pressed to yours, his breath shaking. “You think lettin’ you go wouldn’t kill me?”

Your mouth opened — to yell, to cry, you didn’t even know — but Beau kissed you before you could say a word.

It wasn’t soft.

It was teeth and tongue and the salt of both your tears, messy and furious and so goddamn needed.

You shoved at his chest once, in blind anger — and he caught your hand, lacing your fingers together, pinning it against the door.

“Don’t,” he growled into your mouth. “Don’t fight me on this, sweetheart. Not now.”

You whimpered, your whole body arching into his without meaning to.

He kissed you harder, grinding against you, his hands already moving — yanking your shirt up and off, not even bothering with the buttons. His palms were everywhere, rough and hot, like he couldn’t touch you fast enough.

“You’re mine,” Beau muttered against your throat, voice wrecked and low. “Mine, honey. Been tryin’ to be gentle but fuck, you make it so damn hard.”

You gasped as he bit down just enough to leave a mark, dragging a hand down to pop the button on your jeans.

“Beau—” you choked, but you didn’t know if you were trying to tell him to stop or to hurry up.

He shoved your jeans down your legs, dropping to his knees in front of you.

Looked up at you with those glassy, furious eyes — like you were the only thing keeping him breathing.

“Sweetheart,” he rasped, hands squeezing your thighs. “Look at me. I need you to know. I’m not lettin’ you go.”

Before you could even nod, his mouth was on you — hot and filthy and so fucking good you sobbed his name out loud, back hitting the door again.

“That’s it,” Beau groaned against your skin, licking you like he could memorize the taste. “Goddamn, honey. You were made for me.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging, needing something to hold onto. He groaned again — the vibrations making your knees buckle — and he only gripped your hips tighter, dragging you even closer to his mouth.

You were already falling apart, shaking so hard it was all you could do to gasp for air.

“Beau, Beau, Beau,” you whimpered, over and over like a prayer.

When you came, it wasn’t pretty — it was sobs and shaking and Beau pulling you down to the floor with him, cradling you against his chest like he thought you might break apart.

You thought maybe you already had.

But Beau wasn’t done.

He kissed you again, messy and deep, lifting you easily into his arms, carrying you to the bedroom. His hands roaming your body like he needed to make sure you were real.

You could feel how hard he was — the thick, aching press of him against your thigh — and your breath hitched again, more tears slipping free.

“I need you,” you whispered, voice raw. “Please.”

“You got me, darlin’. Always had me,” he said, wrecked. “I’m yours.”

He didn’t rush — even angry and desperate, Beau was careful as he pushed into you, inch by thick inch, keeping his forehead pressed to yours the whole time.

The stretch burned, but you welcomed it — welcomed him — wrapping your arms around his shoulders and clinging.

He cursed under his breath, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in hard enough to make you cry out.

“Goddamn,” he groaned. “Feel so good, honey. So fuckin’ good for me.”

The rhythm was brutal at first — hard and deep, every thrust knocking the breath out of you — but as the seconds dragged on, it changed. Softened. Deepened.

Turned into something almost unbearably tender.

Like he was trying to tell you everything he’d never been brave enough to say with words.

“I love you,” you sobbed against his neck, not even thinking, just feeling. “I love you, Beau.”

He froze for half a second — just long enough for you to panic — but then he crushed you to him even harder, thrusting up into you with a broken sound.

“Love you, sweetheart,” he panted. “Love you so damn much it hurts.”

You came again with his name on your lips, shaking so violently he had to hold you through it.

Beau followed you seconds later, spilling into you with a hoarse, broken groan, his whole body shuddering against yours.

For a long time, neither of you moved.

You just stayed tangled up together on the floor, breathing hard, clinging like if you let go the whole world would fall apart.

Finally, Beau lifted his head, brushing his thumb across your tear-streaked cheek.

“Ain’t lettin’ you go,” he said again, softer now. “Not ever.”

You nodded, throat too tight to answer.

Because somehow, somehow, even after everything — you still believed him.

You woke to the feeling of him already looking at you.

It was a slow thing — consciousness dragging you up from heavy, dreamless sleep — the first thing you felt was warmth.

His body wrapped around yours like a second skin, his hand resting just beneath your ribs, holding you like you’d disappear if he let go.

“Darlin’,” he whispered, so low you almost thought you imagined it.

You blinked against the morning light slipping through the curtains.

Turned your head just enough to catch a glimpse of him.

Beau’s hair was a mess. His eyes were raw, bloodshot.

There were bruises under them, like he hadn’t slept at all — even though you’d passed out together not long after he’d wrecked you the night before.

“Hey,” you croaked, voice rough from sleep and leftover tears.

Beau just shook his head, pulling you closer until your face was tucked against his throat.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice breaking. “God, I’m so sorry.”

You pressed your forehead into his chest, breathing him in.

He still smelled like you.

Like the desperate, furious love you’d torn into each other with just hours ago.

“I know,” you whispered.

His hand slid up your back, slow and careful, like he was scared he’d hurt you.

You shivered, but not from the cold.

“Didn’t mean none of it,” Beau said hoarsely. “Not the way it sounded. I just— I get scared sometimes, honey. Get so twisted up in my head… think if I keep you at arm’s length, maybe it won’t hurt so bad when you realize you deserve better.”

Your throat closed up.

God, if he only knew.

You pulled back just enough to see him.

Cupped his face in both hands — traced the scruff along his jaw, the little line between his brows.

“Beau Arlen,” you said, voice trembling, “you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

His eyes slammed shut like the words hurt him.

“You don’t have to say that just ‘cause—”

“I’m not,” you interrupted fiercely. “I’m sayin’ it because it’s true. And if you keep pushing me away, Beau, you’re gonna break both our hearts.”

He cracked open at that.

You could see it — feel it — the way he exhaled like he couldn’t hold it in anymore, forehead dropping to press against yours.

“I don’t wanna lose you, baby,” he whispered. “Don’t think I could survive it.”

Tears stung your eyes again, but this time you didn’t try to fight them.

“You won’t,” you promised. “You won’t lose me.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved — just breathed each other in, your heartbeats pounding in the same frantic, relieved rhythm.

And then Beau kissed you.

Soft, this time.

No anger, no desperation.

Just a slow, reverent kind of hunger — like he had all the time in the world to learn every inch of you.

He kissed you like an apology.

Like a prayer.

You sighed into it, letting yourself melt into him, feeling every ounce of regret, of fear, of love he was trying to pour into you with nothing but his mouth and his hands.

When he pulled back, Beau’s thumb brushed under your eye, catching a tear before it could fall.

“Love you, darlin’,” he whispered, so quiet it almost didn’t reach your ears.

Your breath hitched.

“I love you too, honey.”

The raw relief in his face almost undid you.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured against your skin. “Let me make up for it.”

You nodded, already dizzy with the feel of him — his hands sliding under the covers, fingers finding your bare skin like he’d die if he didn’t touch you.

And this time, when Beau moved over you, there was no anger left.

Only worship.

Only love.

He kissed every bruise he’d left.

Whispered sweet nothings into your skin between soft, aching kisses.

“Honey… sweetheart… my darlin’ girl…”Every word was a balm, sealing the cracks between you.

And when he finally slid inside you — slow, deep, overwhelming — you clung to him like he was your whole world.

Because he was.

He always had been.

Beau moved with you, for you, like he was trying to stitch you both back together from the inside out.

Whispering your name.

Whispering “I’ve got you, baby. Always got you.”

And this time, when you came undone in his arms, it wasn’t with fury.

It was with forgiveness.

With hope.

With love so fierce it left you both trembling, gasping, clinging to each other in the soft, broken light of morning.

Liz talks : hihihi i miss Beau so I wrote this lmaoo, I’m thinking of starting like a little Beau series (I say with a billion series that I already have and haven’t touched in forever) but oh welllll.

Tag list : @deansbbyx , @sunsbaby , @starzify , @bluemerakis , @aambearr , @blossomingorchids , @littlesoulshine , @daylighted , @wchswift , @emeraldcrs , @bossyblondie , @lunaleah , @pieandflannel , @sunnyteume , @deanswifeyy , @tinas111 , @kimxwinchester

To be tagged in any future works of mine check out this post !!

To find my my masterlist check out this post !!!

Any engagement is highly appreciated <33

[sunskisser]

stars & spaghetti | r.b.

a/n: here i go again, not taking a break 😭 i swear i just needed to write this! thank you @lovemenotts for encouraging me to post it 🫶 i love you lily

tw: eating disorder recovery

Regulus knows where to find you, but he also knows better than to act like he was looking for you with two bowls of food in hand.

“Hey.”

You almost jump at the sound of his voice. You turn around from where you’re sitting on the porch, giving him a small smile. “Hi.”

His heart drops a little when he sees your face, with your sunken eyes and tired expression.

“I didn’t realize you were home already. Did you come through the back?”

He hums an affirmative, sitting down next to you on the steps leading out the house.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as you slouch onto the railing on your left, blankly staring out at the road. “How’s your day been?”

Regulus casually twirls his fork into the spaghetti in his bowl before bringing it to his mouth. Maybe he believes he’s being slick, you think, but it’s obvious that he’s got twice his usual serving.

“Today’s been fine, yeah. Just busy. How was work?”

He nods in response, “Good, actually. Mark finally sent me the files I needed to get that huge contract signed, and —” He presses his fork into the pasta again, but this time brings it up to your mouth (hoping you’re too distracted to mind).

His heart drops and how instantly you swerve backwards, almost crashing into the step behind you.

“Reg,” it comes out as a betrayed hiss. You take a shaky exhale before sitting back upright. “I don’t want any; I’ve eaten dinner already.”

“Have you?”

“Yes, I —“

“Then why’s the kitchen completely clean?”

Regulus never takes a harsh tone with you, and he wasn’t going to start now. There’s nothing but quiet, genuine concern in the way he asks. Guilt claws at the back of your throat anyway.

It was one of your worse days; thoughts of excessive calories and not having worked out being all you could think about. You’d stared at yourself in the mirror for what seemed like hours, cursing every flaw of your body and wondering why me.

Without your boyfriend home, it had just felt like there was no reason to fatten yourself.

“Hey,” Regulus mutters, laying his palm facing upwards on your lap. You take it. “You’re getting in your head again.”

“Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, lovely girl.” He reaches out to gently brush a stray hair away from your face. “But do you think you could try to eat something? Please?”

Your heart stops, and it’s like your mind is reeling back into its hiding spot already. No lies on the tip of your tongue.

“It doesn’t have to be a lot, dove, he continues quietly, rubbing your fingers. “Just a few bites. You need fuel, you know.”

Regulus is looking into your eyes with that silent look now, the one which makes you feel like he’d do just about anything to save you from yourself. You don’t think you could ever say no to him.

And it wasn’t like you’d eaten anything today. You were allowed this, for your boyfriend, right?

“Fine.”

He smiles softy and tugs you closer, stamping a kiss to the side of your forehead and picking up the bowl of pasta from beside him. “So, remember that bouquet I bought you last week?”

He starts to make casual conversation as he feeds you, and you do your best to listen. It goes all the way from those flowers were expensive! to maybe we should get a cat — or a new apartment — but NOT a dog.

The food gets lodged in your throat every now and then, but you force yourself to swallow. The ‘full’ feeling starts to creep up on you like your shadow.

Regulus can sense it. “Okay, but why the hell do you like dogs?”

You decide to indulge him and go off on a tangent about the fluffy beasts, which pulls your mind away from its dark corner. The conversation makes the chore of eating easier.

You’re sure he knows what he’s doing, but you’re going to let him anyway.

Before you know it, you’re laughing so hard you don’t even realize the bowl is empty. He stands up to put it away before you get the chance to think too hard about it.

Regulus sits back down next to you. He starts to tell you about the stars, then, and you listen intently. It’s late, but you wouldn’t know what time it is. Time didn’t exist in your little bubble.

At one point you’ve curled into him the furthest you can. Your eyelids are being pulled down by the weight of fatigue, his comforting presence lulling you closer towards sleep.

He thinks you don’t hear it when he murmurs a soft I’m proud of you. You do.

[rhettabbotts]

baby, if you only knew - dilf!rhett abbott x babysitter!reader

pairing: dilf!rhett abbott x babysitter!reader

summary: tensions boil over and everything changes for you and rhett one night at a rancher’s event you attend.

w/c: 5.4k (she’s a mammoth)

warnings: 18+ only. smut. age gap (babysitter 20s, rhett 40s). dirty talk. making out in an elevator. daddy kink. possessive rhett. slightly rough sex. cunnilingus. hair pulling. overstimulation. size kink. aftercare. rhett’s grey hair. some fluff.

a/n: i can see you by taylor swift is to blame for this. enjoy the filth! also couldn’t stop myself from adding some babysitter lore. also see green, green dress from tick, tick…boom! for the dress reference!

Six months. Six long, tortuous months of working under Rhett Abbott’s roof.

Okay, it wasn’t as bad as you were making it out to be in your head. His daughters were angels, and you appreciated that he worked with your school schedule as you attended your graduate program. And he let you live in his guest room rent free.

But it was sweet torture. You had fallen hard for the single father of two and it made every day even harder than the last. Rhett was a wonderful man, an attentive father, and a hell of a cook. A hard worker and he was so handsome, you could hardly breathe around him. Who wouldn’t fall in love with the cowboy?

You tried everything in the world to rid your thoughts of him, but you were highly unsuccessful. And he only did things that made it worse. Every time you brushed by him in the halls it felt like electricity coursed through your entire body. He had to feel it too, right?

Delusional. That’s what you were. You were the babysitter. Nothing more. Eventually, the girls would grow up and you wouldn’t be needed anymore. And that thought caused your chest to tighten painfully.

What a thought to have while washing the dishes. You heard your name but it sounded far off, like your ears were full of cotton.

“Tilly, come quick!” Grace shouted once more to get your attention. It made you turn abruptly, soap suds went flying as you dropped the ceramic pot you were washing. “Sorry,” she mumbled when you glared slightly at her.

“What’s wrong, Gracie?” you questioned as you wiped your hands off with the flower embroidered kitchen towel. Something you bought and put out to leave your own touch on this place.

“Oh. Nothing. Ellie just wanted to show you that we won our game.” The girls had been obsessed with Super Mario Brothers and had been playing it for days.

“That’s great guys! How about we take a break and you help me get dinner started?”

“Can we have ice cream for dessert?” Ellie, Rhett’s younger daughter pouted, bright blue eyes pleading. She and Grace were the carbon copies of Rhett. Same eyes, same nose, same crooked smile. You could never say no to them.

“Of course. But don’t tell your dad,” you whispered, placing your finger to your lips like it was a top secret.

The girls helped you finish the food just as Rhett came in from another long day of herding and branding cattle. He was dusty, covered in dirt and sweat and tendrils of his hair stuck to his forehead, the ends curling up. You wanted to run your fingers through it, sweat be damned.

“Daddy!” “Daddy, look at what we made!”

The girls ran towards Rhett, pausing when they got close enough to smell him.

“You stink,” Grace commented flatly.

“Thanks. Love you too. Listen, I’m gonna go shower and I’ll be down in a bit. You all can start without me,” Rhett said as he kicked his boots off by the door and took the stairs two at a time. “Oh, and Tilly?” He called from the upstairs landing.

“Yeah?”

“I gotta ask you something later. Don’t let me forget.”

You just nodded, stomach turning at the thought of what it could be.

Grace and Ellie helped you set the table, always eager to follow your every move. It makes you smile. Sometimes you felt like an actual family. And then you had to bring yourself back to reality. Just the nanny. Nothing more. Dinner was quiet, everyone was hungry and occupied with getting their bellies full.

You were resting on the couch as Rhett finished bath and bed time with the girls, trying to read your latest book but your mind was going a thousand miles a minute. Your heart started to beat faster as you heard Rhett descend down the stairs.

Rhett took himself to the kitchen, busying himself by pouring a glass of whiskey. A bottle you bought for him for Christmas the year prior. You peeked at him over the top of your book, watching his back muscles flex in the tight black tee he wore. Your mouth watered at the sight of his strong arms and his soft stomach as he turned to face you.

You quickly raised the book above your eyes, fearing that you had been caught staring. You missed Rhett’s knowing smirk.

“Move over,” Rhett poked at the bottom of your foot, the motion tickling you ever so slightly and causing you to jerk your leg towards you. “What are you reading? New dirty novel?” He teased.

“No…” you said quietly, a little shamefully.

“Liar. Is this one better than the last at least?”

“So far. Hey, what did you want to ask me earlier?” You stretched your legs back out and they landed in Rhett’s lap. He didn’t seem to mind. His unoccupied hand landed on your shin, calloused thumb lightly brushing the bone there. Your mind went blank and you could hear nothing but static in your ears.

“I got invited to this rancher’s event. They want me to give a speech. Stupid, but I agreed. And I… I need a plus one. And I figured maybe if you wanted to-“

“Yes!” You said eagerly, spine straightening. “I mean- sorry- go ahead…” Your cheeks felt hot at your abruptness. He was probably going to ask you to set him up with someone. Probably Lisa, Ellie’s dance teacher. She always had her eye on him.

“I wanted to ask if you wanted to come with me. Give you a break. It’s the weekend my parents wanted to take the girls camping. That is.. if you didn’t have any plans…”

Rhett sounded nervous. He was looking down at where his hand rested on your leg, avoiding all eye contact.

“Oh. Yeah. I don’t have anything going on. I’ll go with you. As-“

“Friends, of course.”

“Right. Friends. What’s the dress code?” You asked, heart sinking slightly.

“Black tie,” Rhett grumbled. He hated dressing up. If he can’t wear flannel, he doesn’t want to be there.

“Perfect. I’ll find a dress to wear.”

“Well. I’ll leave you to the reading. Goodnight, Tilly.” Rhett tapped your leg a couple of times before moving you so he could stand.

You sighed deeply as he left the room, trying to ignore the gut wrenching feeling you had at his response. You couldn’t focus on your book and you eventually went upstairs to attempt to sleep.

“I want you so bad,” Rhett growled against your neck, teeth sinking into your skin causing you to whimper and arch against him. His leg was in between yours, keeping your thighs separated and your barely covered cunt brush against his suit pants. “You’re fucking soaked, sweet girl. You’ve wanted this for so long, haven’t you?”

“Rhett, please!” You whined pathetically, grinding down on his thigh, searching for any sort of relief.

“Beg for it, baby. Beg for daddy. Tell me what you want.” Rhett said, voice low and gravelly. He pressed you into the wall harder, flexing his thigh as you keened. “I know you want me to fu-“

“Tillyyyyyy, wake uppppp,” a tiny voice called from the other side of the door. Your eyes shot open so fast it made your head spin. Your entire body was hot even though you just had the sheet covering you and the ceiling fan was on. You were having a dream about Rhett. A fucking wet dream. And now Ellie was yelling at you in the hallway. You felt like you were being punished.

You checked your phone. 5:37am. Jesus, why was she awake?

“I’m up, El. Hold your horses.” You went to the en-suite bathroom to splash cold water on your face. “Get yourself together. Now,” you said through gritted teeth, pointing a finger at yourself in the mirror.

The four-year-old stood outside your door with her stuffed horse tucked under her arms. Her eyes were a little red and she was sniffling.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I feel sick,” she whispered weakly, clutching the horse to her chest tighter.

“Come on, bug. I’ll get you some medicine.”

You picked her up and perched her on your hip as you carried her down the stairs. Her forehead felt a little warm. She sat patiently on the counter while you poured the medicine in the little cup and you rubbed her back as she swallowed it.

“Good job, El! I’m proud of you. Here, drink some water and let’s get you back to bed, okay?”

She nodded as she took a big gulp of water from her sippy cup. You trotted back up the stairs, bouncing her slightly to make her giggle.

“Alright, you got your water here and Honey is right here with you. Try to get some sleep, bug. I’ll fix pancakes when you wake up.” You tucked Ellie in, kissing her forehead before you stood up.

Her eyes were already heavy and she mumbled something you couldn’t hear.

“What was that?”

“Luh you, mama.” She repeated sleepily, snuggling her horse and then started snoring softly immediately.

“Oh… I- I love you too, bug.”

You didn’t know how to react. She had never called you that before and it made your eyes misty with tears. You couldn’t go back to sleep. Not after the dream and not after Ellie calling you mama.

The next few hours went by in a blur. You had planned to go shopping with your friend Tabitha to find your dress for the dinner. After dropping the girls off at school, you met Tabitha at the mall. You were in a daze, barely listening to her rant about her latest failed Tinder date.

“Hellooooo,” she snapped her fingers in front of your face. “Are you even listening?”

“Yeah, sorry. No, I’m just- I don’t know what I’m doing,” you sighed as you placed your face in your hands.

“What do you mean?”

“With Rhett! It’s like- why am I going to this dinner? Why do I keep torturing myself? And Ellie! She called me her mom this morning! I want a family and I feel like I have it but it’s not really mine, you know?”

“You need to get laid. That’s what you need,” Tabitha said nonchalantly. She looked through the dresses on the rack in the store you were in. “Oh. My. God. This. This dress. Go try it on. NOW!”

She shoved a velvet dress into your arms and pushed you towards the fitting rooms. It was a deep green color, the fabric felt soft against your skin. It wasn’t a dress you would pick out for yourself but once you slid it over your head your jaw dropped at the sight in the mirror.

The bodice was a corset type, something you didn’t typically reach for but was pleasantly surprised at how it looked on you. The dress was form fitting but not uncomfortably so. The strap tied around your neck, lifting your chest and displaying the tops of your breasts tastefully.

The dress hugged your every curve, accentuating parts of your body you weren’t necessarily happy with, but now you felt sexy. Powerful. You opened the door and called for Tabitha. She came running with a few other options in her hands but her reaction matched your own as she laid eyes on you.

“Holy fuck. Yeah, no, forget these. You have to get that one. If he doesn’t fuck you, I will.”

You rolled her eyes at her antics and looked into the mirror once more. You felt so beautiful in the dress. It made you a little giddy at the thought of Rhett’s reaction. If he even had one. You tried to shake the negative thought away. If he didn’t appreciate it, someone else would. Maybe a nice cowboy who’d be down for a one night stand at a fancy hotel.

The week passed by in the blink of an eye and before you knew it, Rhett was packing the girls’ bags for their camping trip and was shouting up at you that he was going to pick up his suit in town from the tailor’s.

You took your time styling your hair the way you liked and you did your makeup, keeping it light but putting on a red lip. Just to be a little bold.

You hid in your room until you heard Rhett finish getting ready and head down the stairs.

“Tilly, you ready? We should leave so-“ Rhett stopped as he turned at the sound of your heels clicking against the wood. “Wow…” he breathed. “You look, ehem, you look nice. That’s a pretty dress.” He fiddled with his cuff links, avoiding eye contact.

“Thank you,” you responded shyly. He held his arm out to escort you to the black pickup truck. The ride was silent except for the radio and the hum of the engine. You couldn’t stop from looking to Rhett. His hair was slicked back, the gray hair looked more prominent. His temples were nearly white. He had a shadow of stubble on his jaw and his suit fit him in all the right places.

You pulled up to a beautiful hotel. It was a grand building, accents of gold sparkled in the setting sun and gorgeous flowers lined the walkways. Rows of trucks indicated that you were at the right place. And the men in bolo ties and cowboy hats gave it away.

Rhett forwent his Stetson and chose a sleek black tie, looking a little out of place but you thought he looked beautiful.

He parked and inhaled deeply, gripping the steering wheel with both hands and closing his eyes.

“Everything okay?” You questioned, placing a perfectly manicured hand on his forearm.

“Huh? Yeah. M’good. Just nervous. I can’t stand half the people in that room,” he mumbled, smiling softly at you. It made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“You’ll do great. I can fake an emergency if needed.”

“Fall down the stairs if I give you a look,” Rhett joked.

“You got it, boss,” you winked at him. You reached for the door handle, preparing to get out of the truck but his hand on your arm now stopped you.

“Wait… I have something for you. A token of appreciation for coming with me. Also, an early birthday present.”

Rhett pulled a long, rectangular box from the side of the door. He opened it to show a diamond bracelet.

“Rhett- that’s- I can’t-“ You couldn’t stop from reaching out and running your fingers along the jewels.

“You deserve it. You work so hard and I don’t say it enough but you mean a lot to me. To the girls. Just wanted to give you something nice,” he said, voice a little shaky.

Something shifted as he clasped the bracelet around your wrist. His touch lingered on your skin and it was hard for you to breathe. You tried so hard to keep things professional, but it’s changed. Everything has changed in the cab of Rhett’s truck.

You headed inside, arm linked with Rhett’s as he greeted the people inside. He was so charismatic, putting on a face you’d never seen before. It was sexy. He was controlling the room. Everyone loved him.

You could feel eyes following you as you walked towards the front of the ballroom. You heard a few whispers from the older women, surely gossiping about the obvious age gap between you and your employer.

“I’m gonna grab some drinks. You gonna be okay here?” Rhett whispered in your ear, his warm breath washing over your skin and sending a chill down your spine.

“I’ll be good. Can you get me a Long Island?”

“Of course. Be right back.” He hurried off towards the bar, getting stopped several times along the way. You felt like a fish out of water here. You chewed on your thumb nail, anxiously waiting for Rhett to come back.

“I think you’re the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen,” a voice said from behind you. You turned to see the chair to your right being pulled away and a young man, around your age, sat down beside you. His black cowboy hat hid his eyes but he had a wide smirk on his face.

“I bet you’ve said that at least ten times tonight,” you responded, trying to ignore him.

“Name’s Wes. And you are-“

“Not interested. Beat it, buddy,” Rhett growled as he sat your drinks down and sat on the other side of you, wrapping his arm around the back of your chair possessively.

“I see how it is. Rhett… good to see you.”

Rhett hummed as he glared at Wes over the rim of his glass, silently willing him to scram. It was hot.

“That wasn’t very nice.”

“He’s trouble,” Rhett mumbled.

The evening went on without a hitch. Dinner was decent and you joined in on a few conversations. Rhett’s speech was wonderful and informative about the cattle business. He looked good on stage but you knew he was nervous. He made his way back to you, smiling slightly.

“Come dance with me, honey,” he spoke lowly.

“Let me go freshen up a bit,” you squeaked, rushing to the bathroom. Your nerves were getting the best of you. It was just a dance. A quick dance and you’d be heading home. Nothing more.

You made your way back to the ballroom, catching Rhett’s eyes and you trembled slightly at the heat that formed there. A slow song started just as you made your way to the dance floor.

His large hand engulfed yours as his other splayed on the low of your back. You could smell his cologne as he pulled you close to him. You felt a piece of paper in your right palm as Rhett swayed the two of you around.

“What’s that?”

“You can read it when we’re done dancin’,” Rhett drawled, looking down at you. Even with you in heels, his frame still towered over you.

The song ended too quickly for your liking and Rhett was called over to a table filled with older gentlemen, leaving you standing in the middle of the floor. The crumpled napkin had been left in your hand and you spread it out to read the note.

Meet me at the staircase by the piano - R

You gasped slightly and looked around, meeting Rhett’s eyes as he chatted with the group he was with. He was expressionless but there was a fire in his eyes again. One that made your body react and you tried not to squeeze your thighs together in front of everyone there. You made your way back to your table to drink the rest of your drink, a little liquid courage, before you made your way to the staircase.

You stood there for what felt like ages but in reality was only a few minutes. You bounced on your feet, nerves building every second that passed.

“Hey, you,” Rhett’s voice called from behind you, approaching you with his hands in his pockets.

“Hey,” you responded, feeling awkward.

Rhett pulled a key from his pocket. A hotel room key. Room 475 engraved in the key tag.

“You can say no. You can tell me to fuck off. You can quit-“

“Yes,” the answer came without a beat.

“Yeah?” His eyebrows raised slightly, a small smirk forming on his thin lips.

“You have no idea how bad I want you, Rhett,” you confessed, breathless.

Rhett let out a desperate noise as he reached for you and crashed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, one hand cupping the back of your head. You moaned wantonly as his tongue expertly licked into your mouth. You should go upstairs, should stop before anyone sees you.

“Rhett, we should- we need to-“

“Yeah… Yeah.”

His hand linked with yours as he pulled you to the elevator, not wasting time pushing you inside and against the wall, the railing digging into your lower spine a bit uncomfortably. His lips reconnected with yours, a low grunt escaping his throat.

“So fucking beautiful,” he muttered, lips barely leaving yours. Hands explored your body, gripping at your soft hips and thighs, circling around to grab handfuls of your ass. The touch caused you to arch your body towards his, back bowing as he traveled higher and started palming your breast.

“I’ve thought about this - thought about you - for longer than I’d like to admit,” Rhett spoke, deep voice rattling in his chest. “Makes me feel like a dirty old man.”

You just whined pathetically, gripping at his lapels to anchor yourself. You were about to grind against the thigh that had pushed its way between your thighs but the high pitched ding of the elevator caused you to jump apart. Moving so fast, you would have thought you had been electrocuted.

A little old lady walked into the elevator, not missing the way you and Rhett looked disheveled. It was blatantly obvious what you were just doing. Rhett cracked a smile at her, nodding his head in her direction. Your chest was still heaving and your knees felt shaky.

She only went up two floors, a quick ride that felt like an eternity. Rhett’s pinky brushed against your hand where it rested on the rail, the small touch sending shocks through you.

“Have a nice evenin, ma’am,” Rhett said sickeningly sweet and you had to slap a hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh at the look she threw his way as she exited the lift.

Your stop was next and nerves bubbled in your stomach at what was about to happen.

Silence surrounded you and Rhett now as you walked to the room. Not a word was spoken as he unlocked the door and made his way inside. You stood in the middle of the room awkwardly, wringing your hands together as you looked toward the wooden floor.

Rhett tossed his jacket haphazardly onto the floor, approaching you slowly. Giving you the chance to run. It reminded you of a lion stalking a gazelle before it pounced. His calloused hands rubbed the length of your arms before his touch brushed the side of your neck, eventually cupping your face. A rough thumb caressed your cheekbone.

“Darlin’, look at me. Please,” Rhett spoke quietly, as if not to scare you. You continued to look down, which caused him to pinch your chin and lift your gaze to him. “Are you sure about this? We can- we don’t have to-“

“No. No, I want to. I have for a while. A long, long while.”

“Good,” he said, coming out an octave lower and his eyes landed on your red covered lips. His thumb ran across the pout of your bottom lip, tugging it down slightly. “I want to devour you.”

A shaky breath escaped you before you wrapped your lips around his thumb, sucking softly on the digit.

“Fuck,” he moaned.

You stood there for a moment, his thumb in your mouth and your eyes locked on each other. It made tensions rise tenfold. You pulled away with a ‘pop’, a trail of saliva following in its wake.

Impatience got the best of you as you started clawing at his tie and shirt buttons, nearly sending them flying through the room. Rhett chuckled at your huffy breaths of frustration as you yanked on his clothing. You threw the tie behind you, his shirt was shoved off his shoulder and into the chair next to the door. His belt made a loud clink as it hit the window.

“Easy, girl. Don’t destroy the room. Or my clothes,” Rhett teased, stopping your hasty movements. You finally took the chance to pause and look at the man standing before you. Hairy chest on full display. The dark hair traveled down in a continuous line all the way down to the waist of his pants. His soft stomach and love handles made your mouth water.

“You’re so- fuck, Rhett. You’re so sexy,” you said.

“My turn.” He untied the neck of your dress slowly, taking his time pulling the bow loose. He turned you so your back was to him, unzipping you unhurriedly. You let the dress fall to your feet as you turned to face him again, leaving you in your lingerie and high heels.

“My god. Look at you.” Rhett took in the sight of you. Black lace left little to the imagination.

Things moved in a blur after that. You nearly tripped over your own feet as you tried to remove the heels and he almost ripped your bra as he unclasped it with one hand. He tossed it aside and you tried not to giggle as it landed on the lampshade of the lamp that sat on the bedside table.

The edge of the bed knocked against the back of your knees as he pushed you softly so you landed on your back, bouncing on the mattress slightly. He stood between your spread thighs, undoing the button of his slack and pushing them down, revealing the tight black boxers he wore underneath.

You let out a quiet whine as your eyes traveled down his torso and stopping at the large bulge that was confined by the cotton. Even in the low lighting, you could see a small wet spot from the precum.

Large hands massaged your inner thighs as he spread them apart even farther, causing a slight burn in your muscles. He groaned at the sight of your barely clothed cunt. Rhett fell to his knees swiftly and delved into you without warning. Expert licks moved against your wetness through the thin lace, which had been quickly ripped away. His nose bumped against your bundle of nerves as his tongue explored your folds.

His long fingers soon joined his ministrations, finding that spongy spot inside of you in a matter of seconds. You’d question how he did that later. As of now, you tried to control your shaking limbs as he pushed you higher and higher towards your peak. Scratchy stubble rubbed against you, causing a delicious burn.

He stuck true to his word and devoured you, not leaving one part of you undiscovered.

Rhett’s lips wrapped around your clit and started sucking softly, tongue flicking against the bud. You trembled beneath him and your back bowed off the mattress, bucking against his mouth. A strong arm slung itself over your middle, keeping you pinned to the bed.

Your hands gripped his locks tightly, tugging hard when his tongue sped up.

“Rhett. Oh, Rhett. Fuck. Daddy!” It didn’t take much for your moans to become near screams and for galaxies to explode behind your eyelids as you came against Rhett’s face. Your body was jerking involuntarily as you traveled down from your high. Rhett placed feather light kisses against you before pulling away, hair sticking up in places and his face covered in your release.

He traveled up your body and kissed you soundly, the tangy taste of your desire mixing with something so Rhett made you both moan into each other’s mouths.

“Lay back, sweetheart. Gonna take care of you,” Rhett said quietly. You made yourself comfortable against the soft pillows as Rhett stretched you in preparation for his cock. “Damn pillow princess,” he joked. It made you smile.

He had three thick fingers inside of you before you stopped him.

“Stop! Please! I- I wanna come with you inside me,” you pleaded, gripping his wrist. He nodded and pulled his fingers out fleetingly.

You blindly shoved at his boxers and he clumsily kicked them off the end of the bed, his hard cock slapping against his lower stomach. Fuck, he was big.

Rhett pulled back and sat on his knees, gripping the base of his dick and placing it on your stomach.

“Look, baby. You think you can take me? Think you can handle daddy’s cock?”

“Please! Please, fuck me. Need it. Need you. Please!” You begged, lifting your hips and causing the leaking head to brush against your already sensitive clit. You simultaneously let out a loud moan. He rubbed himself through your folds, teasing you and him both.

“Wait, hold on.” Rhett pulled away and searched for his trousers, pulling his wallet out and rummaging through it. He pulled out a foil wrapper and ripped it with his teeth. You had never seen anything sexier.

“Can I do it?” You asked shyly, propping yourself up on your elbows. He handed the condom to you and kept eye contact as you rolled the latex down his length carefully. He was heavy in your hand.

You laid back once more, a trembling breath escaping your mouth as he lined up with your entrance. Even with his prepping, it was still a stretch. The slight burn caused you to hiss and dig your nails into his biceps. He took a break between each inch, time passing slowly as he made small thrusts. He eventually bottomed out, a broken moan coming from his chest as you squeezed around his length.

You stayed like that for a moment, both breathing heavily as his forearms caged you in.

“Daddy. Move. Please,” you whined, fingers moving tangle in the curls at the base of his neck. He slowly pulled out, nearly all the way, before thrusting back into you, the girth and length of him touching places you’d never been able to reach before. It started slow, he was allowing you to get accustomed to him.

However, it didn’t take long before his thrusts became a little rougher. His hands now were placed a the top of your head as he put his body weight into his movements, grunts escaping him with each pass, your high pitched breaths matching him.

“So tight. Taking me so well. Like you were fucking made for it. Made for me. All mine, all mine,” Rhett rambled. The headboard started to smack against the wall slightly as he pounded into you. You couldn’t breathe. You were approaching a feeling you had never felt before. Your brain was becoming fuzzy and your ears were beginning to ring.

“Da-daddy. M’gonna- I’m almost there,” you squealed as a particularly harsh thrust hit your g-spot.

“C’mon, sweet baby. Come for daddy,” his deft fingers started rubbing your swollen clit in tight circles and you let out a scream as your release washed over you. Rhett continued fucking into you until he pushed deep inside you and threw his head back towards the ceiling, filling the condom with his own release.

He collapsed on top of you, full body weight covering you like a blanket. You felt like were floating. Your hand absentmindedly rubbed against Rhett’s back, his skin covered in a light sheen of sweat. You stayed silent for a while, both trying to catch your breaths as you came down. He eventually pulled out of you slowly, causing you to wince. He discarded the condom and went to the bathroom to grab a warm washcloth and a glass of water.

You were quiet as he took care of you, smiling softly as he pulled you to sit up and take a few sips of water. You had never been cared for like this after sex. It made your chest constrict. You moved under the covers and waited for Rhett to follow suit. He immediately pressed his warm body against your own, pulling you tight to his chest.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you said with a slight giggle.

“I can’t believe it took us this long,” Rhett retorted, fingers dancing along your spine.

You both laughed a little before it fell silent once again.

“Rhett?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“What does this make us?” You asked as you ran your fingers through the thick chest hair.

“Well… I think this means you’ll be sleeping in my bed when we get home. But don’t call HR on me.”

“You are HR, Rhett. Seriously, though. Are we like-“

“I want you to be my girl. I have spent the past several months falling in love with you. And I know it’s soon, but damn it, darlin’. You’ve stolen my heart,” Rhett confessed, his words causing your eyes to well with tears.

“Rhett… I- I love you, too.”

“The girls are going to be excited. They’ve been begging me to ask you to be my girlfriend since you moved in.”

“They’re trouble, I swear,” you laughed, snuggling closer to your man.

“They’re the reason I have all of this gray hair.”

“Yeah, but it’s hot. Very… very… very hot,” you responded, emphasizing the T. You giggled as he rolled over on top of you and started kissing against your neck playfully.

You kissed each other softly in the dark until you fell asleep holding each other tight. And when the sun rose in the morning, a new beginning would be awaiting you.

tagging those who may be interested:

@ryebecca @whisperofsong @floydsmuse @laracrofted @lewmagoo @withahappyrefrain @hangmanapologist @sebsxphia @bobfloydsbabe @callsign-magnolia @attapullman

[katsukistofu]

hihi !! thinking about a hurt/comfort fic with shinsou where reader feels like she’s boring/annoying to him

good parts

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ h. shinsou x fem reader. 1.5k words — hurt/comfort. fluff. slightly suggestive. ⭑ no matter how dark your brain gets, hitoshi is determined to help you see yourself in the same light that he does.

Hitoshi visibly softens the moment he opens his door at the sight of you standing there in the dimly lit hallway.

Dark violet pools swimming with worry drift from the way you’re chewing the inside of your cheek, like how he’s noticed you usually do when you’re anxious, to the hem of your pajamas balled up in your fists.

“What's up, love?” Hitoshi says in his softest voice, faltering when you finally meet his eyes with your reddened ones. His heart drops. Have you been crying?

At your uncharacteristically hesitant mumble of “Can I come in?” is when he feels said heart nearly split into two.

“Of course.” A concerned frown tugs at his lips. Something’s definitely wrong. You usually never bothered to ask twice, not that he minded of course, before barreling into his arms the second he turned the knob so many times before. “You can always come into my dorm.”

“I know, I just…” Your sweet voice that he’s missed all day trails off guiltily, and you take a deep breath as you fiddle with the edge of your pajamas.

“Actually, sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I think I’ll just go back to my room.”

“What, who said that? You never bother me.” Hitoshi’s gentle yet firm grasp on your sleeve stops you from turning to leave, and you huff at his stubborn attempt to make you stay.

“Toshi, let go.”

“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to amputate my arm first, and not that you couldn’t but I don’t think you don’t have the tools for that at the moment, pretty girl.” The edge of his lips tilt upward in a wry smile as he playfully tugs you towards him. “You’re not escaping me that easily.”

You huff and turn away, looking anywhere but into his warm, patient eyes. It’s a trap, you know it, once you do you’ll be spilling your guts out in no time, and the sickening aftertaste of burning shame is just something you can’t stomach right now.

Plus he’s wearing that gray hoodie he knows is your favorite, which just makes everything worse because he looks ten times more handsome than usual.

“Come on, sweetheart.” Hitoshi coaxes. “Talk to me. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

A beat of silence. 

Your lips press into a firm, thin line, and you finally surrender. 

“Yeah. I know.” You sigh, and he rubs your shoulder encouragingly.

“Go ahead then, I’m listening.”

“Okay, uh…” You mumble slowly, suddenly feeling very silly. “Do you think I’m annoying or that you’ll ever get bored of me, Toshi?” 

“Never.” He answers without skipping a beat. “To both. You never annoy me, and you’re anything but boring.”

“Really?” Your voice breaks a little and his heart clenches in his chest at the way you sound so doubtful of his words. Hitoshi reaches out to tenderly brush his knuckles against your cheek.

“Really.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Well when I wake up everyday, my first thought is that I look forward to seeing you.”

Your eyes widen, when it really shouldn’t be a surprise at all. “You do?”

“Mhm, I do.” Hitoshi moves to sit down on the edge of his bed. You gasp as he smoothly pulls you into his lap, quite literally sweeping you off your feet.  “And you know how else I know I’ll never, ever get bored of you?”

"What?" You shyly adjust your legs to straddle him more comfortably. He guides your arms to wrap around his neck in response, unwavering, intense eyes staring into yours. He’s so close that his lashes brush against your cheek when he blinks, and his warm breath fans across your lips teasingly.

“Toshi,” you whine. “You’re making me feel flustered.”

“I know it makes you feel flustered.” Hitoshi grins slyly. “That's why I love doing it.”

You gently bat his bicep. “Stop distracting me and answer my question!” 

“Yes ma’am.” Hitoshi chuckles as you retort by cutely puffing your cheeks and laying your head down on his shoulder. His arms are snug against your waist and he squeezes you in his lap. You always feel so nice, sitting so prettily on him. 

“I know I’ll never get bored of you because when someone asks what the best part of my day was, I always mention you in some way. Could be a cute doodle you made on a note you left me, you spending five solid minutes trying to push a door that says pull at a restaurant, or seeing you get excited over a new season of your favorite show coming out, anything as long as it's you.”

His expression is warm as he watches your head perk up at that, which quickly turns into a scowl when you realize exactly what he’s referring to. “The sign on that pull door was really faded, you couldn’t see it either!”

“That’s why I made you my guinea pig so I could come in and heroically save the day for you.”

“Heroic my ass,” you mutter into his hoodie and he laughs, then presses a soft kiss to your neck in response and you shiver. 

“And you have no idea just how much I love listening to you talk about your day.”

“...Even on the days I don’t do anything special?”

“Especially on those days.” He nuzzles his face into your neck and you giggle. “Love hearing you talk about mundane shit. Love when you send me a picture of what you’re having for breakfast, or when you tell me about some weirdly shaped cloud you saw outside during training.”

He pauses thoughtfully, and continues, “Hell, you could probably read me your grocery list and I'd still be hooked on every word. I love your little quirks, even the ones you think are weird. Your whole personality. Your cute voice.”

Hitoshi squeezes your hip. “So keep telling me all about it, okay? I wanna hear it.”

You let out a sweet little contented noise of agreement and your boyfriend grins. 

“So I think it’s safe to say that the chances of me finding you boring or annoying are real slim.” Hitoshi smirks, tickling your thighs that are still wrapped around his waist, and you squirm out of his hold and escape further into his bed while giggling. 

“Real slim meaning zero times infinity.”

“Isn’t that just zero, though?” You let out a soft sigh, completely out of breath as you flop onto his pillow.

“Shh, let me have my moment. Everything times infinity makes it more special.” Hitoshi’s arms come up from behind to hug you against him. “Like my love for you.”

“Ew.” You wrinkle your nose. “You’re so corny.”

“I know. Took you long enough to realize I’m obsessed with you.” He rolls his eyes, bending his head down to brush his lips against the nape of your neck. “Everyone in class already calls me a simp, you don’t need to rub it in.”

You flip around to face him, snuggling the side of your face into his pillow that has the faint, comforting scent of the laundry detergent he likes to use. “Good thing I’m also a simp.”

Hitoshi softly gasps in mock surprise. “Really? Oh my god,” his eyes flicker around the room as if he’s looking for the mysterious person who won your affections. “Who’s the lucky person?”

You laugh and the side of lips quirk up in that fond way that only happens when he’s with you. “You, you silly goose!”

“Me?” He sweetly brushes his nose against yours. “Wow. Feels like I’ve won the lottery.”

A warm feeling spreads across your chest, like honey being stirred into a hot cup of tea and Hitoshi’s eyes are half-lidded as he whispers in a low tone that makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter to life.

“Come here, love. Give me a goodnight kiss.”

You lean in to kiss his deliciously soft lips, and you can feel him grin against your mouth at your eagerness. He kisses you back twice as gently, agonizingly so, while his hand trails to cup the dip of your waist and you feel dizzy at his adoring touch. Your heart is pounding way, way too fast for this late at night.

He sneaks another tender kiss onto your neck, then on your collarbone, and Hitoshi laughs as you shyly smush your flustered face into his pillow.

“One more thing.”

You peek over to glance at him, and the way he’s looking at you makes you feel warm and tingly all over and your burning face is begging for you to return it to the cool depths of his pillow.

“Promise you’ll always tell me when you feel like this. No more keeping it in.”

Your eyes soften at his stern expression. “Okay, I promise.”

“Pinkie promise.” He says sagely, lifting his finger, and a laugh bubbles up in your throat at his serious tone when you raise your own, his larger pinkie overlapping yours. 

“I pinkie promise.”

“Good girl.” Hitoshi smirks, which is short-lived when his eyes widen in panic and it’s too late by the time he reaches to catch you as you proceed to tumble off the bed.

[luvlloyd]

idek if this account is active anymore or not, BUUUUTTTTTTT can i pls request the ninja ( or js kai and lloyd eheh ) with an asthmatic reader?? i recently got diagnosed with it and i js want sone comfort😭😭

🌱🌿 | 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐖𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐄: headcannons & short blurbs!

╰┈➤ how would the ninjas take care of their partner with asthma?

🍃 WARNINGS: angst/fluff, just comfort in general

🌳 CHARACTERS INCLUDED: Cole, Kai and Lloyd (separately), x (gender neutral) reader

🌴 AUTHORS NOTE: so.. i use this account.. but don’t USE this account if ykwim.. this is also me finding out i had requests in my inbox but i never checked until i saw this notification on my homescreen after like.. a year.. 😭😭😭 THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING I DROPPED EVERYTHING I WAS DOING TO PROVIDE U W/ THE COMFORT U DESERVE!! ILY ILY AND PLEASE FORGIVE ME IF THIS DOESN’T SEEM ACCURATE I RESEARCHED THE BEST I COULD ☹️❤️

˗ˏˋ〘 𝓒𝐎𝐋𝐄 〙ˎˊ˗

cole is naturally an overcaring person, so if he found out his partner had asthma or any health issue you BEST believe this man is changing his entire schedule and lifestyle for you.. even if it’s something not even that life changing like being anemic or something 😭

he will constantly check in on you after anything from a quick jog or just if the air is extra cool outside this morning

speaking of cold air, if the weather is really cold or if you get sick and it worses your asthma this man is making you warm tea to soothe your throat

he will still make you train w/ him, he doesn’t want you to be under the impression that having asthma makes you “weak” in anyway

but… at the same time he makes sure that you don’t push your limits at all while training, always keeping an eye on you and will FORCE you to take breaks.

if it ever feels really bad he will carry you anytime you feel extra out of breath, just to make sure, and no he doesn’t care if it’s in public or not.

The dojo was quiet, the faint rustling of trees outside the only sound filling the space. The others had gone off for a daily sprint, but you had tapped out early, sitting on the edge of the mat with your arms wrapped around your knees.

Cole noticed. Your boyfriend always did..

Without a word, he plopped down next to you, stretching his legs out with a relaxed sigh, “Y’know, if you wanted a break, you could’ve just said so instead of trying to keep up with Kai.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes,” “I was fine.”

“Mmhmm.” He didn’t look convinced, but gave you a silly smirk that you hated adored.

You sighed, feeling the slight tightness still lingering in your chest. “Okay, maybe I wasn’t fine. I just… I hate feeling like I have to sit out.”

Cole tilted his head, watching you for a moment before shifting closer. “You’re not sitting out. You’re listening to yourself.” He gently nudged your shoulder. “And that’s smart. Smarter than Kai, who nearly set his eyebrows on fire earlier.”

You laughed, a breathy sound that made his eyes brighten. “That actually happen?”

“Oh yeah. Jay screamed louder than Nya did when she found out he broke her wrench.”

That made you laugh harder, and Cole grinned like he’d won something.

After a moment, you felt his hand settle against your back, warm, grounding it makes you shiver. He rubbed slow lazy circles between your shoulder blades, like it was the most natural thing in the world, “You don’t have to push yourself so hard, y’know. We’re a team. I’ve got your back, always.”

Something about the way he said it made warmth bloom in your chest. You hesitated, then leaned into his side, just enough to feel the steady rise and fall of his breath. He didn’t move away. If anything, he just got more comfortable, resting his chin lightly atop your head,

“Just breathe,” he murmured, “You’re doing great, sweetheart.”

And with him beside you, it was easy to believe that.

˗ˏˋ〘 𝓚𝐀𝐈 〙ˎˊ˗

idc what anyone says, he’d tease you for having asthma, especially if you start wheezing and are out of breath,

like “hey hot stuff.. seems like you’re out of breath for me? hmm?” Cue the eyebrow wiggles.

please smack the bastard 🙏 Nya smacks her brother for you every time

Will be overprotective of you 24/7 every day, like he understands that you may just want some independence… but.. HE JUST GETS WORRIED OKAY??

will not let you train, you look far more attractive sitting still and watching him 💗

he’s under the impression that you don’t NEED to train, he’ll always be there to protect you

If you somehow manage to persuade him to allow you to train then he’ll be surprisingly patient with you and take as many breaks as you want

if anyone says a single comment about your asthma, he may throw hands. Even if it’s a innocent question he will grumble and stare daggers

he’s the only one who can bully you abt it.

he carries a scarf when the seasons gets colder just for you, he naturally can keep himself warm so he doesn’t need that stuff, he just wants to make sure you don’t hurt your throat from the extra chilly weather

he searched up everything about asthma for you late night once, heard that it makes people sensitive to dirt.

that discovery leads to him cleaning YOUR room, HIS room, the entire MONASTERY just to make sure your exposure isn’t that bad

and you never tell him whether or not you’re actually that sensitive to dirt (i mean why would you? free cleaning??)

he won’t tell you but the idea of Asthma Attacks scare the living day out of him

will go to Nya for help as though she has experience 😭🙏🙏

The flickering glow of Kai’s phone screen was the only light in the otherwise dark room. He was lying on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, eyes slightly narrowed in concentration as he scrolled through article after article:

| Common asthma triggers

| How to help partner that has Asthma?

| Can exercise make asthma worse?

His brows furrowed as he clicked another link. He wasn’t great at research, that was more of Zane’s thing, but tonight he was determined. You always acted like your asthma wasn’t a big deal, brushing it off when he teased you or when training got too intense. But after seeing you struggle to catch your breath earlier that day, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He hated feeling helpless. If there was anything… anything… he could do to make things easier for you, he was going to figure it out. Then a sleepy voice cut through the quiet,

“…Kai..?”

His head shot up like he’d been caught doing something embarrassing. He turned to see you standing in the doorway, rubbing your eyes, wearing one of his hoodies that was way too big on you. His heart did a weird little flip.

“What are you doing up?” you asked groggily, stepping closer as you rubbed your eyes.

Kai hesitated, then tried (and failed) to casually lock his phone and shove it under his pillow. “Nothing, just…uh—couldn’t sleep”

You squinted at him, then, too quick for him to stop you, you snatched his phone and unlocked the screen. Your tired brain took a second to process what you were looking at before your heart melted,

Kai groaned, flopping onto his back and throwing an arm over his face, “Maybe”

You stared at him for a moment before breaking into a small smile. Sitting on the edge of his bed, you nudged his side, “That’s kinda sweet, you know.”

“Don’t make it weird,” His voice was muffled, but he peeked at you from under his arm.

You giggled, setting his phone on the nightstand before lying down next to him. He turned his head toward you, eyes flickering across your face, taking in the way your lashes brushed your cheeks, the soft curve of your lips,

“You really don’t have to worry so much,” you murmured.

Kai sighed, “I know, but I still do.” He hesitated, then added, “I just… I don’t like seeing you struggle. If I can help, I wanna know how.”

Your chest warmed at his honesty. You reached up and brushed a stray piece of hair out of his face, “You already help more than you know, Kai.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the way the corners of his lips twitched up,

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t go thinking this means I won’t still tease you”

You laughed, shaking your head, “Wouldn’t expect anything less from your hothead.”

Kai smirked, then, before you could react, he pulled you against his chest, arms wrapped securely around you. You let out a small oof, but quickly relaxed into his warmth, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Just so you know,” he muttered into your hair, “if you ever need me, I got you.”

You smiled against his red hoodie, embracing his warmth happily. “I know”

And with that, you both drifted off, Kai holding you like he never wanted to let go.

˗ˏˋ〘 𝓛𝐋𝐎𝐘𝐃 〙ˎˊ˗

Keeps an extra inhaler on him at all times, in his pocket

asthma attack? not on his watch!

checks on you frequently, not overbearingly but enough to make sure you’re fine.

will text you when he is on a mission or not around you to make sure everything is okay.

If you have trouble sleeping because of your asthma best believer he is doing everything he can

Goes out of his way to buy a humidifier or air purifier for you

Whenever he walks with you he intentionally steers you away from anyone smoking or areas he knows smoking takes place just in case

teaches you breathing exercises and will do them with you every morning and night

he keeps like… a trigger log? idk trigger journal? he notes when your condition worsens and keeps track in a NOTEBOOK or his notes app

I have a feeling he secretly gets all this information from Zane and Garmadon 😭

showers you w/ love regardless

If you want to continue training he’ll be your instructor, and he’ll happily create a custom plan for you to make sure that your happy and healthy

It was late evening, and you were sitting outside the Monastery, enjoying the cool breeze that signaled the end of a warm day. The world around you was calm, but your chest felt heavy, and each breath was a little more strained than usual. You hadn’t been doing anything strenuous, but your asthma sometimes flared up unexpectedly.

You tried to keep it together, not wanting to worry anyone. But the harder you tried to focus on the sunset, the more aware you became of the tightness in your chest. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale…

It wasn’t long before Lloyd noticed you sitting by yourself, looking a little too still. His instinct immediately kicked in….

something wasn’t right.

Quietly, he made his way over to you, his footsteps soft on the ground, “Hey, everything okay?” he asked gently, his tone already laced with concern.

You turned to him with a small smile,though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. You exhaled faintly, “Yeah, just… feeling a little off. I’m okay, don’t worry.”

But Lloyd wasn’t fooled. He could see the way you were trying to catch your breath, and it made his heart tighten.

“You’re not okay,” he said softly but firmly, kneeling beside you, “You’ve got that look, you know. Let me help.”

Before you could protest, Lloyd reached into his pocket and pulled out your inhaler. You hadn’t even realized you’d left it in your bag, but of course, Lloyd always kept track of these things.

“You’re not going anywhere until you take a puff,” he said with a smile, obviously not upset, just concerned, his voice full of that warm, caring energy you adored so much.

You hesitated for a moment, but the kindness in his eyes made it hard to argue. With a soft sigh, you accepted the inhaler, taking a deep breath as you used it. The tightness in your chest slowly started to ease, and you could finally take in a full breath without struggle.

Lloyd sat beside you, his hand gently resting on your shoulder, “Feeling better?”

You nodded, feeling a lot more at ease now, but you could still hear the worry in his voice as he spoke again, “You’re sure you’re okay? No more struggling?”

You smiled at him, the simple act of him just being there with you making you feel so much better, “I’m good now. Thanks for noticing, Lloyd.”

He grinned showing his perfect pearly whites, his usual playful energy shining through, “Of course I noticed! How could I not? You’re kind of my favorite person to look after.”

Your heart fluttered a little at his words. He was always so sweet, even if he tried to hide it behind his teasing.

Lloyd’s eyes softened, and without missing a beat, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into a comforting side hug,“Just don’t scare me like that again, okay? I want to make sure you’re always feeling your best.”

You snuggled closer to him, feeling so safe and warm in his arms, “I promise…” You sigh, I’m lucky to have you looking out for me.”

Lloyd’s smile turned even brighter, his hand gently brushing through your hair as he held you close, “Always. I’m never going anywhere.”

You both sat there for a while, watching the stars start to twinkle in the night sky, feeling completely at peace. For all the things you couldn’t control, at least you knew that with Lloyd by your side, you’d always be cared for.

[maskedbyghost]

Shadows of Obsession (part 4)

part 1 tw: obsessive behavior, mentions of killing, harm, and potential danger to the character

The house was too perfect. Books she’d mentioned in passing lined the shelves. A cardigan she’d lost months ago was draped over a chair. Every detail screamed of his attention, and it unsettled her more than the silence.

One evening, she found him by the window, staring out into the dark forest that stretched for miles. His mask was off, but his shoulders were tense.

“You think this fixes anything?” she asked, her voice cutting through the silence.

Simon didn’t turn around. “It’s not about fixing things.”

“Then what is it about?” she snapped, stepping closer. “Control? Punishment? What do you want, Simon?”

Finally, he turned, his eyes scanning her face like he was memorizing every detail. “I want you alive.”

Her breath hitched at the rawness in his voice, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. “Alive isn’t the same as living. You know that, right?”

He took a slow step toward her, his movements slow. “You don’t get it. If you knew how close they were—how close I was to losing you—you wouldn’t be standing here arguing with me.”

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “You’re right. I don’t get it. Because normal people don’t stalk their coworkers and kidnap them for their own safety.”

Simon flinched, and for a moment, she thought he might actually leave her alone. But instead, he closed the distance between them, his voice low and steady. “You can hate me all you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that someone out there wants you dead. And I’m the only thing standing between you and them.”

Her anger faltered as his words sank in, but she refused to let him see her fear. “You think that justifies this?” she whispered.

“No.” His answer was immediate, almost startling. “But it’s the only way I know how to keep you safe.”

She stared at him, searching for a crack in his resolve, some sign that he wasn’t as unshakeable as he seemed. And then, quietly, she asked the same question she repeated every day, “Why me?”

For a long moment, Simon said nothing. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than she’d ever heard it. “Because you’re the only person who’s ever looked at me like I was more than...this.” He gestured vaguely to himself, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Her chest tightened at the vulnerability in his words, and she hated the way it made her feel—like the ground wasn’t as solid beneath her feet as she’d thought.

“This isn’t how you show someone they matter,” she said, her tone softer now but no less firm.

Simon’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I know.”

Silence stretched between them. She wanted to scream at him, to demand answers, but the exhaustion of the situation weighed her down.

Instead, she turned and walked away, leaving him standing there in the dark. For now, she didn’t know if she could forgive him. But she knew one thing: he wasn’t going to let her go without a fight.

-

She was sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the TV, flipping through channels without watching a single thing.

Simon came in from outside, brushing snow off his jacket. He glanced at her, then at the TV. “Anything good on?”

She gave him a flat look. “No. Not unless you count reruns of cooking shows and soap operas.”

He smirked faintly, hanging his jacket by the door. “Could be worse. Could be a 24-hour news channel.”

She snorted despite herself, and the unexpected sound made Simon pause. For a moment, they just looked at each other, no one dared to say something.

“Do you even watch TV?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“Not much,” he admitted, leaning against the doorway. “But I’m guessing you’re not big on it either, considering how fast you’re flipping through.”

“Not much else to do,” she said, shrugging.

He tilted his head slightly. “We could play cards.”

“Cards?” She raised an eyebrow, half-amused, half-skeptical.

“Yeah, cards. You know, a deck of fifty-two? Clubs, hearts, spades, diamonds?”

She rolled her eyes. “I know what cards are, Simon.”

He held up his hands. “Just making sure. Could’ve fooled me with how bored you look.”

Something about his dry humor caught her off guard. She sighed, sitting up straighter. “Fine. Got a deck?”

A small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Never leave home without one.”

Moments later, they were sitting across from each other at the small dining table, a deck of cards between them. He shuffled with practiced ease, the motion almost hypnotic.

“What are we playing?” she asked, watching his hands.

“Rummy. Unless you’re scared of a little competition.”

“Oh, you’re on.”

The first round was quiet, both of them focused on their hands. But by the second, she couldn’t help but comment. “You’re awfully good at this. Spent a lot of time in casinos?”

Simon chuckled softly. “Nah. Just something to do on long deployments.”

It struck her then—this moment, this normalcy. It was almost easy to forget the circumstances that had brought them here. Almost.

By the fourth round, she was laughing—actually laughing—when he groaned after losing to her for the first time. “You cheated.”

“You just can’t admit defeat,” she shot back, grinning.

“I’ll admit defeat when I see it. This? This is sabotage.”

For a fleeting moment, the house felt less like a prison and more like...a home. She didn’t know what to make of that feeling, but for now, she decided not to question it.

-

The house was warm, but the storm outside howled relentlessly, making her feel even more irritable than she already was. She pulled the blanket tighter around herself, glowering at the kettle on the stove like it had personally offended her.

Simon walked in from the other room, his footsteps careful as if he could sense the storm brewing inside her. “You’ve been staring at that kettle for ten minutes. Something wrong with it?”

She didn’t even look at him. “It’s taking forever.”

“It’s a kettle. Not a time machine.”

She shot him a glare that he could immediately know something wasn't right. “Do you ever stop talking?”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, leaning against the counter. “Alright, alright. Just thought you might want some company.”

“Well, I don’t,” she snapped, tugging the blanket higher over her shoulders.

Simon tilted his head, studying her for a moment. Then his eyes softened. “You’re not just grumpy. You’re in pain.”

She froze, the accusation hitting too close to home. “I’m fine,” she muttered, but her tone lacked conviction.

“You’re not.” He walked over to the cabinet, rummaging until he found a box of tea. “You could’ve just said something instead of trying to set the kettle on fire with your eyes.”

“I don’t need—”

“Just sit.” His voice was low but firm, and to her surprise, she obeyed, sinking into the couch with a huff.

A few minutes later, he placed a steaming mug in her hands, then disappeared into the other room. She stared after him, half expecting him to return with something ridiculous, but when he came back, it was with a small, unfamiliar heating pad.

“Where did you get that?” she asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“Came with the house,” he said simply, plugging it in and handing it to her.

She hesitated but eventually took it, the warmth seeping into her abdomen almost immediately. “Thanks,” she mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

Simon didn’t respond. Instead, he grabbed the edge of her blanket and, to her shock, slid onto the couch beside her, pulling the blanket around them both.

“What are you doing?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Keeping you warm. Relax, I’m not gonna steal your precious tea.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t protest when his arm rested lightly along the back of the couch, just brushing her shoulders.

Minutes passed in comfortable silence, broken only by the storm outside. She leaned back slightly, the warmth from the tea, the heating pad, and Simon's presence making her eyelids droop.

“This doesn’t mean I like you,” she murmured, half-asleep.

He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Didn’t think it did.”

But when she shifted closer, letting her head rest against his shoulder, he didn’t say another word.

-

The room was dim, the single desk lamp casting long shadows across the scattered papers and photos spread out before her. Each document felt like another piece of a puzzle she couldn’t solve.

Simon leaned against the doorframe, his masked face unreadable as always. She didn’t bother looking up; his presence had become a constant, for better or worse.

“I still don’t get it,” she said, her voice tight with frustration. “Why would someone want me dead? I’m not exactly a threat to national security.”

“No, but you’ve seen things,” Simon replied, his tone calm but laced with something she couldn’t quite place. “Heard things. That makes you valuable—or dangerous.”

She slammed her hand on the desk, sending a photo sliding to the floor. “That’s not an answer! It’s just another vague excuse.”

He pushed off the wall and walked toward her. “You think the people coming after you are the type to leave behind a calling card? ‘Here’s why we’re trying to kill you, love.’”

“I didn’t ask for this,” she muttered, sinking into the chair and running a hand through her hair. “And I didn’t ask for your help, either.”

Simon crouched beside her, his dark eyes narrowing. “You didn’t have to. If I hadn’t stepped in, you wouldn’t be sitting here asking questions. You’d be six feet under.”

She looked away, his words hitting harder than she wanted to admit. “Fine,” she said quietly, “but that still doesn’t explain why you care. Why go through all this trouble for me?”

He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear, his voice low and full of a dangerous edge.

"Because I’m the only one who understands you," he said, his words dripping with something darker. "You think they care about you the way I do? You think they’d protect you? No one else would go this far."

Her breath hitched in her throat, and she opened her mouth to protest, but he was already moving closer, his presence engulfing her. The air between them grew thick, suffocating.

"You don't get it, do you?" His voice was barely a whisper now, and there was something almost possessive in the way he said it. "They think you're weak. They think you're disposable. But you belong to me."

Her stomach twisted, a mix of confusion and something else she refused to acknowledge. “What do you mean, ‘belong to you’?” she demanded, her voice trembling despite herself.

Simon’s lips curled into a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His gaze was intense, almost feverish as he took another step forward, his body crowding hers. “I’m the one who’s been keeping you alive, love. The one who’s watched your back when no one else cared. I’m the one who knows everything about you, and I’m the one who will make sure no one else gets close enough to take you away from me.”

Her pulse quickened at the intensity of his words, and the space between them felt like it was closing in, suffocating her. She opened her mouth to protest, but the words wouldn’t come.

“You don’t get to question it,” he murmured, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re mine. No one touches you, no one gets near you. Not even them.” His fingers lingered on her skin for a moment too long before he stepped back slightly, but the possessiveness in his eyes never wavered.

She wanted to push him away, to yell at him for being insane, but something in her stomach churned, making it hard to focus. He wasn’t just saving her. He was keeping her for himself.

And that terrified her more than anything else.

“I won’t let them take you,” he added, voice low and deadly, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’ll make sure of that.”

"You don’t have to do this," she said quietly, trying to regain some semblance of control.

But Simon only smiled, a smile that sent chills down her spine. "I don’t have to, but I will."

-

She tossed and turned in the bed, her breath shallow, her mind trapped in the nightmare that had become too familiar.

The shadowy figures circled around her, their faces blurred, their footsteps echoing in her ears. They were so close now, so close that she could feel the cold breath on her neck, the promise of something terrible looming.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t scream. Her body was frozen, and the nightmare only grew darker. The figures reached out, hands like claws—then—

"NO!"

Her voice broke the silence as she shot up in bed, gasping for air, her heart pounding against her chest. Sweat slicked her skin, her body trembling from the terror she couldn’t shake off.

For a moment, she was still, trying to calm her breathing, her eyes wild and searching the darkness. Her fingers clenched the sheets, but the nightmare lingered, the fear still gripping her, even though she was awake.

The door creaked open, and before she could react, Simon was standing there, his figure a dark silhouette against the dim light of the hallway. His voice was soft, but it cut through the thick tension in the room.

“You’re alright,” he said, stepping inside without waiting for permission. “It was just a dream.”

She didn’t answer him immediately, her hands still trembling as she rubbed her face, trying to chase away the lingering panic. The nightmare felt too real. It always did.

“I’m not okay,” she whispered, voice barely audible. She hated how weak she sounded, but she couldn’t help it. She was scared, terrified of what they might do to her, and she didn’t know how to stop it.

Simon walked toward the bed, his heavy boots making barely a sound on the floor. Without a word, he sat beside her, the heat from his body drawing her in like a lifeline.

“Shh…” he murmured as he pulled her gently into his arms, his embrace firm. “You’re safe here.”

She didn’t say anything, letting herself melt into him, letting his warmth chase away the lingering chill from the nightmare. His heartbeat, steady and sure, was the only sound in the room now.

“Are you—” she started, but her voice cracked, and she had to swallow the lump in her throat. She didn’t want to be weak in front of him, didn’t want him to see how terrified she truly was. But when he was this close, it was hard to hide anything.

“You’re safe,” Simon repeated, his voice lower now, like a promise. He tightened his hold on her slightly, pulling her even closer. His breath brushed against her forehead as he spoke again. “I’ll make sure no one ever gets close to you again. No one will touch you. I’ll kill them all before they lay a finger on you.”

Her chest tightened at his words—not with fear, but with something else, something that made her heart beat faster. She didn’t know what to say, but the way he held her, it made her feel… safe in a way she couldn’t explain.

She closed her eyes, leaning into him, the soft rhythm of his breathing soothing her as she tried to forget the nightmare. Slowly, the darkness of the room began to fade, the weight of the night lessened by the comfort of Simon’s presence.

In the quiet, as she drifted back into sleep, Simon’s voice was the last thing she heard.

“I’ll protect you. Always.”

And with that, she finally allowed herself to relax, the nightmare slipping further away as the warmth of his arms surrounded her.

PART 5

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

I've got so many ideas for these two...

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving @blackhawkfanatic @identity2212 @tessakate

[ohalleyrose]

number · @rosekillermicrofic · rosekiller · wc: 661 · minor character death

Barty dialed the phone number with trembling hands and dropped it next to him on the mattress after activating the speakerphone. Evan would probably want to kill him for waking him up so late at night, but he didn't know who else to tell that his mother had passed away.

It hadn't come as a surprise when his father called to break the news. His mother had been ill for years, and in the last year she had gotten so far worse Barty almost preferred death would take her away rather than further her suffering. He had visited her in hospital every week —she had been a patient in a specialised clinic two hours’ drive from the big city—, and yet he had not had a fair chance to say goodbye as Barty Crouch Sr told him of her passing only after the funeral. His mother had been buried and he had not been able to see her for the last time. Did his father hold that much resentment to deprive him of something as precious as his mother's farewell? Fuck him and his twisted, rotten way of punishment.

The call was picked up at the last ring.

“Barty,” Evan groaned on the other end of the phone. “I hope someone died, because why the fuck are you calling me at three in the morning?”

Bless Evan and his ill-timed crude sense of humour.

“Actually, my mother died.”

There was an awkward silence in the call that was eventually interrupted when Evan sat up in bed.

“Where are you?” His voice sounded much softer than before. “I'll come and get you.”

“That fucker buried her without telling me.” He was staring at the nickname he had saved his best friend's contact number under. Rosie. “I hate him. I fucking hate him so much.”

Barty heard what sounded like hurried footsteps on the floor.

“Baby, can you tell me where you are?” Although Evan tried to hide it so as not to upset him, his concern was evident in his tone. “Are you home?”

The pet name distracted Barty for a few long seconds.

“Yeah, I’m home.”

Around thirty minutes later, a motorbike engine was audible next to the building where he lived. He listened as the noise was replaced by the ringing of his doorbell. He hit the open button directly and opened the front door to await Evan. When he appeared from the lift, he walked quickly and stood before him, his hair dishevelled, his breathing heavy and his gaze worried.

“Hi,” Evan whispered shakily. “I couldn’t come earlier.”

Barty had to repress the urge to kiss him.

“I know.” He stepped aside. “Come in.”

After Evan entered the flat, Barty closed the door and they stood watching each other. It was unusual for the atmosphere to be awkward between them since they always knew what to say. There was an exception, particularly for Barty: feelings. One of the few emotions he was able to express was anger, which poisoned the poor capacity for reasoning he had in such a state and drowned any other possible emotions that struggled to come to the surface. However, he felt something new, a great hollowness in his heart that distracted him from all other feelings. His mother, with her death, had carved a big hole in his soul and had left him to deal with it alone.

Except he was really not alone. Evan was right there.

“We could kill him, you know.”

Barty nodded.

“Not today, though. I’m tired.”

Evan closed the small distance between them and took one of Barty’s hands gently.

“Do you want to go to bed?”

Barty shook his head.

“I won’t sleep.”

“You don’t have to.” Evan smiled beautifully at him. “We can watch a film.”

As the butterflies fluttered in his stomach like a blissful nightingale in the early hours of the morning, Barty realised he was going to be okay.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

enemies to lovers w/ spencer reid plzz 💗

.⋆｡Whispers in the Dark｡⋆.

Spencer Reid x plus size reader

You and Spencer have been at each other’s throats for months and the team is sick of it. So while on a case in a conveniently tiny town, they do something to fix it

Warnings: usual cm warnings (kidnapping, murder, serial killer), enemies to lovers, one bed trope (i’m not sorry), confessions, little bit of partial nudity, Spencer and reader are horny for each other and neither know how to deal with it, implied smut WC: 2.4k

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

If there was one thing that was a guarantee in this life, it was the DOCTOR (as he always liked to remind you) Spencer Reid would not keep his fucking mouth shut. You used to think it was endearing the way he so passionately spoke about anything and everything but after the 30th time he interrupted you (in front of every mind you), it got annoying real fast. And somehow, it was even worse today.

A series of kidnappings occurring in a small town in the middle of buttfuck nowhere that exactly replicated the town’s urban legend about a vengeful spirit killing those who tried to leave without offering sacrifice. Given your extensive knowledge on the development of folklore specifically tied to serial killers, it was an unspoken agreement that you would be taking the lead on the case.

But Reid had a very different idea.

“This is obviously someone using the story to get rid of people they have a vendetta against.” You fought the urge to roll your eyes at the young doctor. His lean body blocked the column of victim photos as he pointed to the map of the town beside it. He had drawn over several places with a red marker and although the abduction sites did fall into his contracted triangle of a comfort zone, something in your gut told you it was more than that.

“Look, I’m going to keep saying it. This goes way deeper. This has been happening for generations. 2002, 1985, 1968, hell even all the way back to the fucking 1820s! It’s either all 17 year olds getting killed or 17 people killed total each year it occurs, with it switching each time.” Spencer made a sound that was almost a scoff but with Hotch’s steely gaze fixed on the both of you, he covered it up by clearing his throat.

“Mark Adin was 18.”

“He turned 18 the day he died, Reid! And if you looked at his birth certificate, you’d see that his time of death was an hour before he would actually turn 18.”

“If you would just-“

“Alright!” Derek placed a firm hand onto Spencer’s shoulder, making him stumble slightly. “We get it, you’re both freakishly smart but I think it’s late and we all need some sleep.” He shot you a look as you crossed your arms over your chest, red hot anger and frustration still bubbling up inside you.

It always ended like that, one of the other members of your team stepped in before insults could be hurled (it’s happened once or twice before) and suggested a break while you and Spencer continued to glare at each other. He continuously undermined your theories and in return, you questioned his intelligence. 

“I’m sure Y/L/N will realise how ridiculous she’s being after some undeserved rest. I mean, when is she ever right.” Your stomach dropped and Derek’s smile dimmed for a second before he wound an arm around the young doctor’s shoulders and guided him out of the conference room the team had commandeered far quicker than he normally did.

You opened your mouth to shout something back at him but Emily grabbed your forearm before you could. “It’s not worth it.” You met her gaze and quickly deflated.

“Yeah okay.” She gave you a soft smile as you both left the room together, missing the weighty glance Hotch and Rossi shared.

——————

“I can’t believe that you and JJ are doing this to me,” you whined, hiking up the strap of your go-bag higher on your shoulder, “you promised last time that we had to share rooms that it would be you and me. I don’t want to get stuck with Hotch again, he snores like a fucking freight train.” Emily poked your ribs as she passed by, shooting you a mischievous grin.

“You were too busy flirting with Reid to notice us making sleeping arrangements.” You huffed and followed her out of the elevator.

“I wasn’t FlIrTinG with him and by the way, that’s disgusting you even thought of that.” The hallway was dead silent save for the faint buzz of the ice machine at the very end.

“Yeah, that’s definitely why you totally weren’t checking out his ass while he was setting up the white board.”

“Emily!” You hissed but she only laughed in response. 

“Come on, it’s so obvious that you like him! This childish rivalry you have is just sexual tension so for all of our sakes can you please just fuck him already so we can actually do our jobs.” 

“Alright maybe I would like him if he wasn’t such an ass to me all the time.” You conceded, earning you a sly grin from your friend as you both came to a stop outside your hotel room door. “But! He constantly undermines me and makes me feel like shit so it’s never gonna happen.”

Emily stood by her own door, her key-card already in hand. “And you love to rile him up. So, never say never.” And with that, she slipped into her room, shutting the door before you could retort.

You rolled your eyes as you unlocked your own door and stepped in. The shower was already running but what mainly concerned you was the lack of a second bed. You sighed heavily, dropping your bag on the empty side away from the door.  You were too exhausted and frustrated to even be mad about having to share both a room and a bed with your boss. Too exhausted in fact to notice the sweater on the chair in the corner couldn’t have possibly belonged to the older man.

Quickly, you stripped down to your underwear and slipped on your sleep clothes, figuring you could wake up early and shower before heading back to the police station. You sighed as you crawled beneath the sheets, the worn mattress immediately cradling your soft body.

Your eyelids had just begun to flutter shut when the water turned off. You turned onto your other side in anticipation of the bright light from the bathroom fully waking you up but what you didn’t expect was the accompaniment of the one voice you hadn’t wanted to hear until you had at least 6 hours of sleep and a massive coffee.

“What the hell?” 

“Fuck me.” You sat up and took in the sight of a very damp Spencer Reid wearing only a towel around his waist. You refused to look down at his naked torso (no matter how badly you wanted to). 

“You’re not Morgan.” He retorted.

“And here I was thinking you were a genius. Do you usually walk around half-naked with Derek?” He didn’t dignify you with a response this time, only grabbing his bag and retreating to the bathroom once more. As soon as the door shut, you launched yourself at your phone.

<I’m going to fucking kill you

>We’ve all packed noise cancelling headphones so don’t hold back ;)

>BTW before you even ask, there’s no more rooms available. Small towns are just great aren’t they

<I’ll get you back for this

>Sweet dreams

You could scream as you shut off your phone, Emily’s texts disappearing, leaving you staring at your reflection on the black screen. You should’ve known something was up when Hotch insisted that everyone take separate SUVs to the hotel under the guise of everyone splitting up first thing in the morning. The man was a fucking menace. 

The mattress groaned as you laid back down, far closer to the edge this time. If Spencer took your hint and just left you alone for the rest of the night, you would consider it an overwhelming success. This time when the door opened, the light was already off, letting you breathe a sigh of relief.

The bed dipped and your body tensed for a moment. You waited for him to speak, but when he didn’t, you finally relaxed. In the silence and darkness of the room, you could pretend that you were anywhere else.

“Will you stop hogging the blankets?” You knew this peace couldn’t have possibly lasted.

“If you had turned on the heater I wouldn’t have to.” You grumbled but still released your hold on the covers just enough for him to take some more of it.

“Not my fault you’re always freezing for no reason.” The blanket lifted from your leg as Spencer fully wrapped himself up. You sighed but decided not to pick a fight, Emily’s words still circling your mind. Instead you wrapped your arms around your stomach as you drew your legs up, curling around yourself. You just wanted to sleep.

“What, no witty comeback?” You sighed heavily and squeezed your eyes shut.

“I get that I don’t ‘deserve to rest’ but I’m exhausted Spencer. Neither of us want to be here so can we just try to get some sleep and leave each other alone.” Thankfully, he stayed silent, for a moment at least.

“You called me Spencer.”

“Oh my god, can you please just let me sleep? Yes I called you Spencer, it’s your name isn’t it?” You snapped although you knew what he meant. You had never even referred to him by his first name in the almost 18 months since you had been on the team, just the same as he did with you. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Fine.” You pressed your face into the thin pillow beneath your head, determined to finally fall asleep.

“No, Y/N I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did. There’s a lot of things I shouldn’t have said to you.” The bedsprings screamed in the quiet of the room and suddenly you could feel the gentle brush of Spencer’s breath along the back of your neck. You suppressed a shiver as best you could. “You don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

“Why are you bringing this up now? Are you trying to get laid or something?” Your tone held no bite but you could still feel the way he flinched. A sour taste bloomed in your mouth. “Sorry. For what it’s worth, I’ve been an asshole to you too.”

Tentatively, you rolled onto your back, your shoulder now brushing his. Soft light bled into the room from the light in the hallway, dimly letting you see his silhouette. Already, Spencer’s hair was a mess, different strands sticking up or to his face. His right hand rested on his chest while the left was by his side, barely a fraction of an inch from touching your own. He turned his head, making eye-contact with you for probably the first time since you had known him.

“Why— What did I do to make you hate me so much?” You muttered, suddenly unable to speak any louder than a whisper. You watched his chest hitch and then deflate.

“You didn’t do anything. I guess— it was easier to hate you than admit the truth.” The warmth of his skin made you breathe a sigh of relief as he pressed his hand to yours.

“And what is the truth Spencer?” Even in the limited light, you could see the way his eyes dropped to your lips. His lithe fingers curled around your wrist and gently lifted your hands so that it rested between your heads. 

“That when I’m around you, I can’t concentrate on anything besides how beautiful you are, how intelligent, how capable. You’ve had me wrapped around your finger since the moment we met and it’s angered me.” You didn’t realise how close you were to him until the tip of his nose bumped against yours. You sucked in a breath but it did nothing to ease the floating feeling in your stomach.

“Why’s that?” You were both now on your sides in the middle of the bed, on the edge of something more, if only one of you would fall first.

“Because I knew that the second I accepted it, there was nothing I could do to stop myself from falling for you, even if you would never feel the same.” 

You smirked. “And here I was thinking you were the smartest man alive, Dr Reid.” He pressed his lips to your knuckles with a smile and before you could tell him that he was wrong and quite frankly dumb for not seeing through you (like everyone else on the team did), his hand was on your jaw and his lips on yours.

You moaned into his mouth when he leaned onto you. You grabbed at his back under his shirt, your nails digging into the surprisingly well-defined muscles along his spine. Spencer’s head tilted, encouraging the kiss to become more passionate as his tongue traced your bottom lip. You tangled your fingers in his messy hair, tugging at it slightly as your mind began to go fuzzy with the lack of oxygen. 

Spencer smiled against your lips, placing two or three more soft kisses against them before rolling onto his back once more, leaving you breathless beside him. You followed him down, putting your head on his pillow. You stole another peck from him as he clutched at your wide hips.

“I can’t believe how long it’s taken us to finally talk this out. We were both being really stupid.” You giggled against his now swollen lips.

“Yeah we have.” Something tugged at your mind, breaking you away from the warm bubble of affection you were lost in.

You shot up. “What, what is it? Did I do something wrong?” Spencer practically pleaded, his hand tightly gripping at your thigh.

“You’re right, we were both being stupid! We’re both correct. What if it’s not just one unsub, but a whole family of them? 17 years between killings, Spencer!” Now it was his turn to sit up, his brown eyes wide with realisation.

“It’s a coming of age ritual. The unsub is killing people they know but under the guidance of the person that did it before them.”

“So the place where they’re keeping the victims before they kill them should be in the comfort zone and it should line up with all the past ones!” He beamed at you. “But maybe we should wait till morning to tell the others, they do need their beauty sleep.”

“And we don’t?” His hand moved higher, slipping beneath your sleep shorts, making you shudder.

“Definitely not.” You swung your leg over his hips and sat on his thighs, kissing him once more.

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Criminal Minds

@lokiandbuckysdoll

[ephemeralp1eces]

You Don’t Have to Choose if No One Makes You - Part III

Summary: It’s the next day, and it feels, different. Like there was something you didn’t know. Things finally start coming to the surface - maybe you aren’t just close friends with both of them, maybe you want something more. And maybe they do too.

What to know: n/a, hinting at an upcoming throuple-type situation. Eee I’m so excited to write this - it’s gonna get sooo juicy

wc; 4,200

Part I | Part II

The McLaren motorhome had a rhythm to it. Everyone in sync, everyone busy, all the little paddock dances choreographed down to the second.

Except, apparently, for me, and Lando, and Oscar.

Not that we were out of sync. Not exactly. But things had started to feel… different in a way that was hard to define. Like we were all in on a joke that hadn’t been written yet. It started during the Saturday morning media block, when Lando arrived late with his curls still damp and a granola bar half-crushed in one hand. He dropped into the seat next to mine with a sigh and leaned over.

“Do I smell like hotel shampoo?”

I tilted my head, pretending to consider it. “Like if ‘fresh linen’ and arrogance had a baby.”

He grinned. “So irresistible, then.”

Oscar looked up from the seat across from us. “You do realize the press are sitting five feet away, right?”

Lando raised a brow. “What, you worried they’re gonna quote me smelling nice?”

Oscar deadpanned, “No, I’m worried they’ll quote her calling you arrogant.”

“Oh, please. She’s said worse.”

I hid my smile behind my water bottle and tried to look like I wasn’t halfway to laughing. What had gotten into them? It’s like they were even closer than normal.

The PR manager cleared his throat, clearly ready to put both of them in a timeout. But Lando just tossed his granola wrapper in Oscar’s lap and leaned back with a smirk.

Oscar flicked it off, eyes briefly meeting mine like, you see what I deal with?

And I did. I liked it.

—

After media, the drivers went into back-to-back meetings. I took my laptop out onto the deck of the motorhome to steal a few quiet minutes in the sun.

Oscar found me there, sunglasses on, coffee in hand. He didn’t say anything at first, just sat in the chair beside mine and let out a low exhale like he hadn’t been able to breathe in hours.

“I forgot you even existed when you’re not herding us around,” he said.

I glanced over. “I try to be mysterious.”

“You succeed. Lando thought you left.”

“Where would I go?”

“His words were, and I quote, ‘she probably ditched us for someone interesting.’”

I snorted. “His insecurity is adorable.”

Oscar smirked. “You say that like he’s not completely in love with himself.”

“I’ve known him too long to be impressed.”

That wasn’t strictly true, but Oscar didn’t call me out on it. He just sat back and let the quiet settle again. Then, after a moment: “You really do calm him down, you know.”

I raised a brow. “What makes you say that?”

“He hasn’t pranked anyone in four days.”

I blinked. “Is that… a record?”

“Possibly. Should we alert the FIA?”

That got a real laugh out of me, and Oscar’s smile twitched like he was proud of himself for earning it. It was small, but somehow more satisfying than Lando’s louder, messier charm. Oscar wasn’t flashy. He was sharp and subtle and never said more than he needed to. Which made moments like this casual, quiet, feel rare. But Lando always had a way of breaking those silences.

He reappeared not ten minutes later, leaned over the railing, and said, “Are you two gossiping without me?”

“You were busy,” I said.

“I’m never too busy for slander.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “She was actually defending your honor.”

Lando looked visibly betrayed. “Why would you ruin the streak?”

“Because I need her in a good mood before qualifying.”

Lando gave me a mock pout. “So he gets your soft side and I get bullied?”

“You love it.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I really do.”

—

Qualifying was chaos, as usual. Cars barely made it out of Q1 with seconds to spare, and track evolution was a nightmare. Lando kept asking for traffic updates on the radio like his entire weekend depended on our answer. Oscar, meanwhile, quietly nailed his lap times, no drama, no fuss. Classic. When the session ended, they both landed inside the top ten, Oscar slightly ahead. Not bad, but not great for McLaren overall. Lando stomped out of his car, helmet under one arm, mouth pressed into a tight line. I met him halfway to the briefing room.

“That bad?” I asked.

“No, just annoying.”

Oscar passed us with a nod and a subtle smirk.

Lando muttered under his breath, “I’m gonna kill him.”

I grinned. “That’s team spirit.”

He glanced at me, then rolled his eyes and huffed out a laugh. “God, don’t praise him.”

“I’m not praising. I’m... observing.”

He squinted at me like he didn’t trust that answer at all. “You’ve been spending a lot of time observing lately.”

I tilted my head. “Jealous?”

He gave me a look. “Of Oscar?”

Which was not a no.

—

The debrief room after qualifying always had a certain edge to it. Everyone keyed up, trying to focus while pretending not to be irritated about the hundred things that went wrong. Lando kept tapping his pen against the table. Oscar gave him one look, and the pen mysteriously stopped moving. I sat at the back, flipping through notes on my laptop, but I didn’t miss the way they both glanced toward me, at different times, for different reasons.

Lando when he was bored or distracted.

Oscar when he thought no one was watching.

And the thing was… I noticed them both. More than I probably should’ve.

—

Dinner that night was low-key. A few of us found a quiet place away from the usual team spots. No cameras. No press. Just a dimly lit patio and enough wine to keep everyone from checking their phones. Oscar sat across from me, Lando to my right. The three of us ended up in a conversation about favorite cities on the calendar, which quickly devolved into Lando accusing Oscar of being too boring to enjoy Vegas properly.

“I enjoy it fine,” Oscar insisted.

“You went to sleep at ten.”

“I was tired.”

“You’re twenty-three!”

Oscar shrugged. “And wise beyond my years.”

I leaned in. “You do give off tired-grandpa energy sometimes.”

Lando nearly choked on his drink. “Thank you!”

Oscar just looked at me, completely deadpan. “And yet you still keep talking to me.”

“Because you’re weirdly addictive.”

Lando turned his head. “Okay, and what the hell does that mean?”

I blinked innocently. “Don’t worry about it.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I worry a lot, actually.”

Oscar smirked and refilled my wine.

Lando leaned closer. “You know, if you’re playing some kind of psychological game with us, you’re doing a very good job.”

I smiled over my glass. “Who says it’s a game?”

That shut him up. But not for long.

—

Back at the hotel, I parted ways with them at the elevator, Oscar heading to the gym (of course), Lando trailing behind me toward the rooms. We walked in silence for a few steps until he nudged my elbow with his.

“You’re different lately,” he said.

I gave him a side glance. “That sounds ominous.”

“Not bad different. Just… different.”

I stopped outside my door. “Maybe you’re just finally paying attention.”

He looked at me for a long second. Like he had a hundred things he wanted to say but didn’t want to sound like he meant any of them too much.

“Well,” he said, “I’m glad I am.”

Then he winked and kept walking.

Oscar passed him in the hallway a minute later, he probably forgot his water or something. I heard their voices float back down the corridor. Lando saying something under his breath, Oscar replying too quietly for me to catch.

I didn’t need to hear it.

I knew what was happening.

They knew, too.

And no one was stopping it.

[pizzaboerr]

Honest in the mess, true in the silence.

Trafalgar D Water Law x reader. Part 3

Part 1 , Part 2 , part 4

Summary: The crew decided it’s time to intervene. after dinner you and law retreat to your room where he finds your sketches.

Content warning: Slow burn, unspoken tension, canon-divergent.

Word count: 2.3K

authors note: Here is part three! i’ve decided i’m going to make 5 parts in total! have fun, let me know what you think!

P.S.: Sorry if there are sentences that are grammatically incorrect, English isn’t my first language, so my apologies in advance.

—~—~—~—

The next day passed in silence.

You weren’t avoiding him, not intentionally, but the air felt strange. Off. Like you’d stumbled into someone else’s space and didn’t know how to get out without breaking something.

You watched him from the other side of the mess hall. He hadn’t looked your way once. You picked at your food. Bepo noticed first. He always did.

“You okay, Y/N?” he asked, nosing into your side with his usual, too-large curiosity. You tried to smile, but it wobbled. “Yeah. I just—” You sighed. Dropped your chopsticks. “Actually… no. I don’t know. I thought something changed. With Law.” You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. “Last night… it felt like we were finally on the same page. And now it’s like nothing happened at all.”

The words left your mouth and instantly made your stomach twist. Saying it aloud made it real. Worse , pathetic even.

Penguin looked up from his bowl. “He ghosting you or something?” You frowned. “No. Not really. He’s just… back to being him.” Shachi gave you a long, knowing look. “Cold, weird, avoidant, overly composed. Got it.”

You groaned. “Exactly.” Bepo blinked slowly. “Do you want us to throw him off the ship?” You snorted. “Tempting. But maybe give him, like, one more day.” He nodded solemnly. “Understood.”

That night, the ship felt unusually… quiet. Suspiciously quiet. Too quiet.

You turned the corner toward your room and paused. The hallway was glowing, softly lit by candles lining the floor. Little flickers of orange-gold light stretching toward the mess hall like a trail.

Your brow furrowed. “…No way.” You followed it, and walked into a scene.

The long table in the mess had been cleared. Cleaned. Set with actual tableware and mismatched glasses. Someone had found a white sheet to throw over it like a makeshift tablecloth. There were more candles. And in the center, a dish of something that smelled legitimately good. Fresh. Warm.

Bepo was wearing a sparkling bowtie. Shachi and Penguin peeked around the corner, barely hiding behind a crate. “I—what—” you started to laugh, stunned. “What is this?”

Bepo stepped forward with a very serious expression. “We thought maybe… the captain just needed a little push.” Your eyes widened. “You did not—” “We did,” Penguin said, leaning in smugly.

“Dinner. You and him. That’s it. No pressure. Just food and vibes,” Shachi added. “I hate you,” you whispered. “You’ll thank us,” Shachi said.

And then, like they’d rehearsed it, the door behind you creaked. You turned. Law stood there in the doorway, eyes taking in the scene in complete, stunned silence.

His gaze flicked from the table… to Bepo in the sparkling bowtie… to you. You waited for the outburst, the sigh, any hint of annoyance. The classic, “This is unnecessary.” Instead, he blinked slowly. “What… is happening?”

“They ambushed me,” you said quickly, holding up your hands in surrender. “I had nothing to do with it.” “She said you were sad,” Bepo added. “And I read that candlelight is emotionally stabilizing.”

Law’s eyes drifted back to you. You opened your mouth to explain, but he just sighed, and stepped into the room. “Fine,” he said. “One meal.” Bepo lit another candle triumphantly.

—~—~—~—

You sat across from him, at the awkwardly large table, with pasta that was surprisingly edible. The silence between you was… less painful than it had been earlier. But still stiff. Still unfamiliar, like walking on glass.

“You told them?” Law asked after a few minutes of silence. You blinked. “Not really. Just that I didn’t understand what happened. That it felt like… you pulled away.”

He twirled a bit of pasta, not looking up. “I didn’t mean to.” That caught you off guard. “Really?”

“I didn’t know how to stay,” he admitted, softly. “Not after what it felt like.” You were quiet. Law glanced up. “It wasn’t nothing. What happened between us.” His voice was measured, but not cold. “But it scared the hell out of me.” You exhaled. “Me too.”

A beat passed. His jaw tensed slightly. “You said you were starting to want things you shouldn’t,” you said gently. “What if… it’s okay to want them?”

His eyes held yours. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, honest in a way that made your chest ache. “But I don’t want to pretend nothing changed. Because it did.”

Your pulse jumped. He looked at the flickering candle between you. Another moment of silence passed, this time thick with unsaid emotion.

“…Is this seriously a bowtie on Bepo?” he muttered. You laughed. The tension cracked. And in the glow of candlelight, with mismatched plates and the distant hum of the ship beneath you, it felt like something real. Not fixed. Not perfect. But real.

You leaned forward slightly. “You don’t have to know how to do this,” you said softly. “You just have to want to try.” And this time, when your hands brushed across the table, he didn’t pull away.

—~—~—~—

The candles had mostly burned down by the time you both finally stood.

There were no big speeches. No confessions. Just… an understanding. A truce maybe, not just between you and him, but between the feelings you’d both been keeping caged.

Law walked with you in comfortable silence, hands in his pockets, steps matching yours as the ship creaked under your feet. You paused outside your door, fingers brushing the handle. “You don’t have to—”

“I know,” he said quietly. “But I want to.” So you opened the door.

Your room was dim, cozy in that lived-in kind of way. You hadn’t had time to clean, but it wasn’t messy, just… yours. A hoodie tossed over a chair, a blanket hanging half off the bed, a mug half full of cold tea on the shelf. It smelled faintly of paint, fabric softener and a hint of the vanilla shampoo you used.

Law’s eyes moved slowly across the space. Not judgmental. Just observant. Curious. You stepped around him, grabbing a blanket and tossing it onto the bed in a feeble attempt to make the room look slightly less chaotic. “Sorry. It’s—”

“It’s real,” he said. You blinked. “That’s a nice way of calling it a mess.” He smirked slightly. “Maybe. But it suits you.” You froze for half a second. Then sat on the edge of the bed.

He moved a bit slower than usual. Sat beside you, a careful space still between your knees. You were quiet again. But this silence felt earned. Like something warm had settled into the air between you and made it okay.

You didn’t notice he was looking at the shelf until his hand moved. You were mid-sentence, telling him about how Bepo once tried to make pancakes with protein powder, when Law leaned over and pulled something loose from beneath a folded sweater.

Your heart dropped. “Wait—!” you said, reaching, but too late. The sketchbook slid open in his hands. It was the one you hadn’t meant to show anyone. Not really. You’d tucked it away ages ago, something private. Something quiet. Something soft.

Drawings, all of them, filled the pages. Quick, charcoal sketches. Pencil outlines. Bits of ink here and there. Rough, but real.

There was Shachi asleep on a coil of rope, mouth open and snoring. Penguin laughing so hard he’d dropped his coffee. Bepo curled like a cat on the couch in the medbay. Jean Bart with a book in his lap and his brow furrowed in concentration.

And Law.

A lot of Law.

Some were rough and fast, profile sketches mid-command, head bowed over a report. Others were more detailed. Him with his hair messily pushed back. Sitting in the captain’s chair, eyes closed.

A rare one: his head tilted up toward the sky, hat off, a shadow of weariness in his eyes. Not the cold, sharp Captain Law the world knew, but the one you saw in quiet moments.

He turned the pages slowly. You didn’t speak. You weren’t sure if you could.

Law stopped on a sketch you didn’t even remember doing. Him at the table, probably that one night you caught him asleep over a medical book. There was a softness to his face in the drawing, a peace that barely existed in reality.

“I didn’t mean for anyone to see those,” you said finally, voice low. “I wasn’t trying to… I don’t know. Invade. I just draw what I see.”

He didn’t respond. You expected him to hand it back. Instead, he turned another page. Another. And another. Then, without a word, he closed the book. Tucked it under one arm.

“…Are you taking that?” you asked, half not believing what was happening. He stood slowly, his voice dry but oddly quiet. “I’m taking it for inspection.”

“Inspection?” You asked dumbfounded. “I need more time to review the contents.” You stared at him, stunned.

And then, god help you, you laughed. He glanced at you, and for just a second, that wall in him cracked again.

You could see it: the flicker of awe he didn’t know how to express. The way his eyes had softened just slightly around the edges. He was holding something that mattered, to you. Something he hadn’t known he mattered enough to be part of.

And now, he did. “I’ll return it when I’m done,” he said, already halfway to the door. “No you won’t,” you muttered. He paused. Looked back at you over his shoulder. “No. I won’t.”

You smiled. It reached your eyes this time. He lingered there for a second, like he might say something more, something that might break the quiet spell still wrapped around the room.

But instead, he just nodded once, turned, and disappeared down the hallway, sketchbook held like it was fragile. Precious. Like maybe, for once, he didn’t need silence to feel safe.

—~—~—~—

Law’s POV (back in his quarters)

The door to his quarters clicked shut behind him. He stood there for a moment, back against the frame, sketchbook still in his hands. He didn’t move right away, just stared at the cover, thumb brushing over the crease in the corner.

The edges were frayed. A few smudges of graphite on the back, a few small hearts and flowers across the edges, a page slightly bent. It had been touched so many times, worn down by care.

He set it gently on his desk and took a seat afterwards. For a long time, he didn’t open it. Just listened to the faint ticking of the clock on the wall, the creak of the ship, the distant hum of laughter on the deck, Shachi and Penguin, probably. Someone was playing music in the galley.

It felt like the kind of moment you might try to sketch. Fleeting. Real. Finally, he opened the book. Not to the beginning. But somewhere in the middle.

A two-page spread of Bepo, head tilted back mid-laugh, paw half-covering his face. Law blinked. He hadn’t seen that expression on Bepo in months, not like that. Unburdened, pure, happy. The shading was messy, not perfect. But it glowed with something real. He turned another page.

Shachi and Penguin, side by side, one poking the other with a spoon. Both grinning. The kind of grin that only came when they forgot they were in the middle of a war-touched world. The lines were quick, the kind that came from muscle memory. You’d drawn it like you knew them.

He kept flipping. Each page held a moment he’d missed. Not because he wasn’t there. But because he hadn’t seen it the way you had.

Tiny snapshots of life between battles and commands. Jean Bart with a bowl of soup, eyebrows furrowed like he was about to philosophize about dinner. Ikkaku sleeping with a book over her face, pen still in her hand. The engine room mid-repair, a scrawl of wires behind someone’s bent head. Their expressions all soft. Free.

And through all of it, between the chaos, the crew, the candid sketches of Bepo’s terrible posture and Shachi’s weird socks, there were drawings of him. Not just him the captain.

But him in stillness. In fatigue. In rare, unguarded pauses. Sometimes half-finished, like you’d run out of time or light or courage. But they were all… kind. He turned back to the one of him at the table, asleep over a book. It caught something he hadn’t realized he ever let show. Not pain. Not weariness.

Just… exhaustion, trust, the rare luxury of rest. His chest ached.

He wasn’t used to being seen like this, not without judgment or expectation. These drawings didn’t ask anything of him. They just held him. Like maybe, even in his messiest moments, he was still worth the page.

Worth your time.

He exhaled slowly, spine bowing as he leaned over the book, fingers tracing the edge of the paper. A part of him, the old wounded part, wanted to shut it. Bury it. Pretend he hadn’t looked.

But the part of him that stayed in your room longer than necessary, that didn’t pull away when you touched his hand, that part… lingered. And it wanted more.

He flipped back to the first page. This time, he didn’t study the drawings like a surgeon analyzing a patient.

He just… felt them. All that warmth. All that stillness. The moments you’d found and kept, as if they mattered. As if he mattered. Law reached for his pen and flipped to the back page. He didn’t draw, he wasn’t foolish enough to try.

But he wrote something small, in neat, careful script in the corner:

“You see things the rest of us forget to remember. Thank you for not forgetting me.”

Then he closed the book and held it quietly in his lap. Like it was something fragile. Because it was.

[lessersole]

Bridging Boroughs - Part Three

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x reader. Platonic!Matt Murdock.

Summary: You and Bucky meet to talk after the events of the gala.

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: Some swearing, mention of alcohol.

Part two | Part four

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

“You are the only person I know who could end up doing something illegal on a first date,” Sam laughs. “So the transition to respectable member of congress is going well?”

Bucky glowers at him, “It’s not funny, Sam.”

“It’s kinda funny,” Sam counters.

Bucky’s in DC for work and as usual, has taken the chance to catch up with Sam for a few beers. Since Joaquin’s out of town, it’s just the two of them - and with you almost constantly on his mind, the conversation quickly turned to the events of the charity gala a few days before.

Sam sighs, recognising Bucky’s sour attitude, and continues more seriously, “Look, you said more of a misdemeanor than a felony, right?

“Yeah.”

“And well-intentioned, not immoral, and she didn’t ask you to get involved.”

“She wanted to use me as cover. Without asking.”

“Okay, that part’s not great,” Sam concedes, “But there’s clearly still some trust there, or you wouldn’t be refusing to tell me the specifics.”

Bucky frowns. He’s told Sam the broad outline of what happened at the charity gala, but he didn’t want to give away anything that could get you - or Sam, if he doesn’t disclose it - in trouble. He just wants advice on what to do.

“And I’ve never seen you fall for someone so fast,” Sam adds, lifting his beer. “Actually - I’ve never seen you fall for someone, period.”

“Except Sarah,” Bucky can’t help correcting with a smirk.

Putting his drink down hard, Sam points a stern finger at Bucky, “No. Still no.”

Bucky’s grin fades. “So what do I do?”

“About your criminal girlfriend? Give her a chance,” Sam shrugs, “Talk to her about it. Make sure she doesn’t drag you into anything worse - you said she was doing this for a friend?”

Bucky nods.

“So stay away from that friend, I guess.”

—

You check your phone for the hundredth time - still nothing from Bucky. The night at the gala had ended awkwardly, the flirting and teasing of your previous encounters killed by you breaking and entering into the mayor’s office. You’d understand if he didn’t want to see you again - he was a congressman, and you’d used him as an accessory - but you desperately wanted to. The memory of the kiss you’d shared still lingered in your mind.

After waiting a few days for him to make the first move, you’d caved and texted him, only for him to reply that he was in DC for the week. At least he hadn’t ignored you. Or blocked your number. But he should be back in town by now, and you’ve still heard nothing.

“A watched phone never rings,” Matt tells you with a knowing grin.

“Not helpful,” you sigh, clearing away his drink.

Matt’s taken to dropping in on you at work, trying to convince you to join his crusade against the Kingpin - although he’s still vague on the details of his plan, other than recruiting a team of vigilantes.

Despite your repeated refusals, he still turns up, sometimes just to talk or quietly work on cases at the bar. Today it’s to talk.

“You know, it’s not my fault he hasn’t called you.”

“Yeah, because a little B&E really goes down well on a first date.”

“Pretty heavy event for a first date,” Matt observes, “And you chose to do it.”

“After you asked! And what have you done with the information anyway? I’ve ruined a potentially really good relationship with a really good guy, and all for nothing.”

“Forewarned is forearmed.” He explains, before cocking his head in curiosity. “And I thought you don’t usually do relationships. Or good guys, for that matter.”

You glare at him so hard even he has to see it. “You haven’t known anything about my love life for a while now, Matt.”

He holds his hands up in submission. “Sorry. Low blow.”

You wipe down the counter to stop your hands twitching for your phone again. “Given that unwarranted observation, and since you’re only interested in good guys for your little militia, I take it that means you haven’t invited Frank?”

“No,” Matt grimaces, “He’s too out of control.”

“Meaning he won’t follow your orders.”

“Meaning he murders people. I want to protect the city, help it heal - not just rip it to pieces in a different way.”

Before you can reply your phone buzzes in your pocket and you snatch it up. It’s finally Bucky.

I’m back in town. Can we talk?

—

You hate how nervous you’re feeling as you walk towards your agreed meeting spot outside Central Park. You might have snapped at Matt about it, but you’re not used to being so invested in someone, especially so soon. Seeing that Bucky’s already waiting at the entrance to the park, you hope him arriving early is a sign that he’s feeling similarly.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” You both stand awkwardly, unsure how to greet each other. The soft cheek kiss he welcomed you with before the gala feels like a million years ago.

“Okay, look, I’m sorry,” you burst out in a rush, exasperated by the uneasy atmosphere, “You invited me to the thing, and you’re a congressman, and I used you as cover for something not entirely above board, which was not cool of me. If you don’t want to see me again, that’s fine. But I wanted to say sorry.”

Bucky opens his mouth to respond, but you keep going.

“Although you chose to join me in doing that, which I didn’t ask you to, and it was absolutely for a good reason, and I didn’t plan it, and no one got hurt or even found out about it. And a fancy, high profile gala is a really weird choice for a first date, so you kind of set a precedent for unusual behaviour, so you’re not really blameless in this.”

Bucky looks both amused and surprised at your outburst. “Are you done?” He asks.

“I could continue,” you answer defensively.

You hide your delight as Bucky smiles, “You’re right about it being a bad choice for a first date. I guess I wanted an excuse to see you, and I had the event anyway, so it made sense in my head.”

“So you were using me?” You challenge with a smirk. “You’re saying you’re the one who should be apologising?”

“Don’t push it,” Bucky answers, “But - can we reset?” He nods to the park you still haven’t entered, “I hear a walk is a more normal first date these days.”

“So I’m forgiven?” You ask hopefully.

“Let’s see how this goes,” he answers more cautiously.

—

One hour, a couple hot dogs and an ice cream later, you’d say the date was going well.

“So, congress - what’s that about?” You ask.

“Well,” Bucky begins, “congress is a branch of government with the power to pass or-”

“Okay, smartass,” you interrupt, gently smacking his arm as he grins, “I mean why for you? What made you want to run?”

“I wanted to make a difference,” Bucky answers, simply and seriously, “I thought I could stand up for people who aren’t really represented at the moment.”

“People with ‘special abilities’?”

Bucky nods.

“And do you feel like you’re able to do that?” You don’t doubt his intentions, but it wasn’t too long ago you felt even more strongly than Matt that working within the system was hopeless - and recent experience has taught you that the only politicians able to actually effect change are the bad ones.

Bucky pauses for a moment before answering, “I think it’s possible. I believe it is. It’s complicated - and difficult - but there’s a lot that needs changing in this country, and this seemed like the best way to help make it happen.”

“I’ve heard that before.” You can’t help thinking of Matt again, and his repeated assertions that he could help people using the law just as well as, or better than, outside of it. And how thoroughly he seems to have given up on that idea now. “So why the drive to help people? You’ve been through a lot, no one would blame you if you wanted an easy life, and politics is, like, the opposite of that. Are you just that good of a guy?”

“Maybe I’d like you to think so,” Bucky shoots you a roguish smile, “but actually it was sort of my therapist’s idea.”

Your horror is only half in jest, “Your therapist suggested you go into politics? Christ, Bucky, you need a new therapist.”

He laughs and you glow at the warm sound, the distractingly sexy way his eyes crinkle, and at you at being the cause of it.

“Making amends was her idea.” He explains. “Owning my past and taking responsibility. Acknowledging what I did, apologising for it, and making up for it.”

You frown, confused. “We’re talking about your past as-”

Bucky takes a deep breath, “As the Winter Soldier, yeah.”

“But - I thought you were brainwashed or something.” You remembered the news around the time of his pardon, the details re-emerging when he ran for congress.

“I was,” he clarifies.

There’s no joke in your coldly appalled tone any more. “Your therapist told you to take responsibility for things you were forced to do - things you had no control over?”

Bucky looks puzzled by your outrage in a way that half breaks your heart and half enrages you on his behalf. “I still did those things.” His voice is quiet, but firm. “I remember doing them.”

“Bucky-”

“Making amends helps. It helps with the guilt, the ni-” He stops himself, not ready to be so vulnerable.

For a moment, you’re unsure how to react, then an idea flashes into your mind. “Is it okay if I make a quick phone call?”

“Alright,” Bucky’s answer is uncertain.

He watches warily as you step away from him, unsure what’s prompted this. Maybe he should have been clearer about his past, but it’s not exactly a secret. You’d known who he was from the moment you met, and part of what he liked about you was how completely unphased by it you were - not just untroubled by it, but willing to sass, argue and hold your ground against him.

But perhaps he’d misjudged something somewhere.

You return to him, a broad smile on your face that he’s starting to recognise as the look that appears when you have a plan.

“Are you okay with me derailing this date in a much more legal way than last time?”

—

A quick cab ride later, the two of you arrive at an unassuming diner back in Hell’s Kitchen. Bucky follows as you enter and head into a private room at the back, but he lingers to read the simple paper sign on the door - there’s a ringed image of a defiantly raised fist and the words Kilgrave Victim Support Group. Understand, Rebuild, Move Forward.

When he catches up with you, you’re greeting the smiling man who seems to be in charge and turn to introduce them. “Bucky, this is Malcolm. Malcolm, Bucky.”

Malcolm steps towards him with an outstretched hand, “Great to meet you, man. Welcome.”

“Thanks,” Bucky shakes his hand, but says to you both, “I’m not sure I should be here. I don’t even know what a Kilgrave is.”

“It’s not just for Kilgrave’s victims,” you assure him.

Malcolm nods enthusiastically. “Right. It was set up for Kilgrave’s victims, but we support all survivors of mind control here. Everyone will introduce themselves, but we’ve had people affected by the thing in Westview, someone who worked for some organisation called the TVA, even Professor Selvig drops by when he’s town, after the incident in 2012. Actually we should probably change the name.” He adds as an afterthought. “But I promise you’re more than welcome here, Bucky.”

“I don’t know,” Bucky hesitates.

“You don’t have to say anything. You can just observe if you want.” Malcolm explains. “Come on, we’re about to get started.”

“Go on,” you nudge Bucky’s arm, “I have to get to work anyway. Just give it a go. And - you can let me know after if you want a second date? This doesn’t count as part of the date though, you can just rate me on the fun park stuff. And remember that I bought you a hot dog.”

Bucky rolls his eyes at you, but you can tell there are some nerves beneath his gruff exterior. “Fine.”

—

It’s hours since the support group will have finished, and you realise you’re back to waiting for a text from Bucky while you go through the motions at work. You resist the urge to message him and ask how it went, and just as you’re telling yourself - again - not to obsess over him, Bucky’s familiar frame fills the doorway. You greet him as he approaches the counter. “How was it?”

“It was - interesting,” he runs a hand through his hair, and if it wasn’t for the visible tension in his shoulders you’d have to force yourself to focus on what he’s saying and not how attractive it is when he does that. “I went for a walk after. I guess I’ve got some things to think about. But I think I’ll go back.”

“That’s great, Bucky,” you tell him softly, biting back the question you’re desperate to ask about a second date.

As though he’s read your mind, Bucky glances at you apologetically before dropping his gaze to the floor. “About - us. I think I need some time to think about that too. And you should as well. Given my job, and my past, things are going to be complicated. You need to think about what you really want. And so do I.”

Your heart drops, but your usual defensiveness kicks in and you try to play it off. “I mean, it’s not like I’m proposing here, Buck. We can just have fun, right?”

His troubled eyes meet yours, “I don’t know.” He answers quietly. “Sorry.”

With that, he turns and leaves. You’re shocked at the strength of the disappointment that rips through you and have to blink rapidly to push back tears. Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to carry on with work as normal, and have just rounded the counter when the door crashes open to reveal Bucky once again.

“I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking,” he says as he strides desperately towards you, reaching for you and pulling you into him. His lips crash into yours in a heated, frenzied kiss, which you return full force, your hands grasping at each other, tongues and teeth tangling, the desperate press of your bodies against each other saying more than any of your words have been able to.

I want you.

I need you.

It’s only a piercing wolf-whistle from one of the regulars that prompts you to break apart, laughing breathlessly. Bucky presses his forehead to yours as you flip a middle finger at the old man who interrupted you.

“You can back out on me any time,” Bucky tells you.

“No chance.” You grin back at him. “Can you stay until close?”

“Of course.”

You kiss him gently, your lips teasing his, “Then I can take you home?”

Bucky pulls back slightly, running his fingers reverently along your jaw, tracing your mouth with his thumb. “As tempting as that is,” he tells you softly, “I don’t want to rush this. I really like you. I want to do this properly.”

“So what was that before about needing to think about things?”

“Some bullshit,” he mutters, making you laugh again, “I wanted to protect you. It’s true that dating me will be complicated. I don’t want to make your life difficult. But I can’t stop thinking about you. I haven’t felt like this about anyone in 80 years, maybe never. If you’re up for it…”

“I am very up for it,” you assure him firmly, “And I can look after myself.”

“I know you can,” he smiles, his tone lightening, “but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to stay until your shift ends and then make sure you get home safe.”

Disentangling from each other enough for you to reluctantly get back to work, Bucky settles in at the counter.

“They’re never going to let me live that down,” you grumble goodnaturedly as you make your way over to the still chuckling regulars to collect their empty glasses.

While your back’s turned, someone enters and joins Bucky at the bar. When you see who it is, you rush over, your good mood dented.

“Evening,” Matt smiles at you, “I was just telling Congressman Barnes how good it is to meet him. I guess you two have worked things out?”

“Now’s not the time, Matt.”

“I think now’s the perfect time,” Matt answers, blithely oblivious to Bucky’s angry stare.

“I know you’re her friend,” Bucky tells him, his voice carefully even, “But I don’t think it’s a good idea for the two of us to get to know each other too well.”

Despite the hum of customers and low music in the background, a hush seems to fall over the three of you.

Ignoring Bucky’s comment, Matt leans in closer to him,  “Do you ever think, with your abilities, your skills, you could help this city more if you tried something other than being a congressman?”

“Jesus, Matt, straight in with it?” You hiss.

Bucky scowls at him. “I think the less I know about whatever you’re getting up to, the better. For all of us.”

“Seriously,” you warn Matt through gritted teeth, “drop it.”

“Fine,” he surrenders, getting up to leave. “But I’m just saying - to both of you - if you ever change your mind, there’s a lot you can get done as part of a team.”

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

Part four

Tags: @yesshewrites1 @itsmeamysworld

[enbyfvcker]

[Poke the bear and face the consequences]

𝙒𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙒𝙞𝙡𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙭 𝙇𝙤𝙜𝙖𝙣 (𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙩!𝙬𝙤𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙚)

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 2,8k

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮/𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩: Logan gets enough of Wade's teasing and decides to use other tactics to shut the merc's mouth.

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙨: Smut, top!Logan, bottom!Wade, dom/sub dynamic, masochism, sadism, brat-taming, oral sex, face fucking, anal fingering, anal sex, orgasm control, orgasm denial, edging, degradation kink, blood, violence (claws are used).

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It's common knowledge that Wade Wilson does not know when to shut up.

People call him the merc with a mouth for a goddamn reason, and it took minutes after meeting Wade to Logan learn that.

It doesn't matter how many times Logan drills his claws into Wade, how many times he breaks his bones or punch him, Wade always says some shit that pissed him off.

The guy did not have a fucking filter, his mouth works faster than his brain and yeah it did got him into a hell lot of trouble but it's not like he ever learns.

Despite the affection for Wade slowly growing in Logan, it did not changed the fact that the merc was fucking infuriating.

Now and then, Logan would drill Wade into their shared apartment's walls or floor with his claws through his organs whenever he'd crack a joke that had Logan growling with rage, and Althea would always shout for them to clean the goddamn blood from the carpet.

Either Wade's a fucking masochist or he just enjoys poking the bear. Or maybe he's just stupid. Maybe a combination of all above.

The thing is: Logan was having none of it. If his methods weren't working, then he'd simply find new ones.

...

After Logan moved in, he quickly got bored. Between sitting around in the apartment and spending hours in random bars, there wasn't much to do. So, eventually, he accepted Wade's invitations to join him in his mercenary jobs.

It wasn't really what he was used to. After spending so much time working with the X-men, he couldn't help but have Charles's voice in the back of his head when he'd help kill Wade's targets.

But it's not like he didn't spend the last years in a killing spree without an ounce of a moral compass, so now that he was killing actual bad people, it didn't weight on him so much. Besides, it helped pay the bills, so win-win.

In this job, though, Wade was more mouthy than usual. And that's saying something.

"Gosh, Wolvie, your suit really should come with a boner warning. Didn't know it was my birthday, that cake's outstanding." Wade babbles as Logan slices through a guy, both of them fighting a dozen criminals at the same time. "Wish I was wearing my white pants."

"Do you ever shut the fuck up, bub? Focus on the damn mission and zip it." Logan growls, driving his claws into two guys at once, a cacophony of screams filling the abandoned warehouse they found themselves in.

"Sorry, can't control myself when you're in that heavenly comic-accurate outfit, peanut." He remarks while piercing his katanas through one of them. "Makes me want to put those bj-handles to test."

Logan snarls, but before he could curse at Wade, he grunts when 6 bullets pierce him at once from behind. If his mood wasn't great, then now it just got damn worse. He turns around to see a man desperately pulling the trigger of his now empy pistoll and walking backward in fear as Logan stalks like a fucking predator before using both his claws to cut through the man, an animalistic growl leaving him.

"Oh god, I'm soaking wet right now. Can I be next?" Wade comments as he slices the last one of them, a pile of bodies around the place.

When Logan's victim drops dead, he sighs as his body rejects the bullets, a pained grunt leaving his throat.

"Yeah, any other funny quip and you're right next on the list."

"I'm 'bout to do a fucking stand up act, then, peanut." Wade retorted, gasping when Logan roughly grab him by his collar.

"I'm not in the fucking mood, bub. Quit it." He warns through gritted teeth, and he was almost sure he could see Wade grinning behind his mask.

"Oh, you know me better than that, baby girl." Wade teases, running his finger sensually against Logan's chest and his control barely slips as he just grunts and shoves Wade with force.

"Let's just get the fuck home, already. Contact your guy, say we did the job." Logan walks through the bloody bodies, the merc following right behind him like an excited puppy.

Wade chuckles. "You're so sexist! Who said it was a guy?"

"Isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is, but my point remains."

"Let's just wrap it up, Wade."

...

"Honey, I'm home!" Wade shouts when they got in their apartment. They realized Al was out, probably walking mary puppins or at the market or something. The author wasn't feeling much creative to tend to side characters.

Logan sighs with frustration, sliding off the upper part of his suit as soon as he closes the door. He was sweaty from the fight, and he could hear a whisle behind him.

"I swear I can still hear Madonna in my head whenever you take your shirt off. I mean, look at those boobies-"

"Shut. Up." He growls. "I'm not saying it again." He was about to walk to the bathroom to take a shower when Wade made him turn around:

"Alrighty, if you jerk off, can I put a glass on the door and hear it?"

Usually, Logan has a level of tolerance over Wade's idiotic jokes, but they were getting more and more flirtatious, and now it not only pissed him off but it also send a mix of animalistic arousal through him and it confused the shit out of him.

Before he realizes it, he has Wade against the wall.

"Ooh, 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑦."

Logan was gritting his teeth and looking at the merc like he was about to gut him right then and there, and Wade actually thought he was going to.

For a while, Logan decided to see Wade's obvious teasing as simply jokes. He was never sure if the merc actually meant the shit he says, but well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

"Get on your fucking knees." Logan orders in a dark tone, not leaving room for arguments. "𝘕𝘰𝘸."

For a few seconds, Wade was speechless, and as much as Logan loved him silent, he thought maybe he had read it wrong. Maybe it was all jokes, after all.

"What-" The mercs eyes drift down to the raging bulge against his thigh, and god, he may be daydreaming this. "Oh, 𝘨𝘰𝘥, yes daddy." Wade moans, already kneeling in front of Logan.

"Do 𝘯𝘰𝘵 call me that."

"Too late!" He says while making quick work of Logan's belt.

Logan rolled his eyes. "Lose the mask." And Wade did as told, unzipping his mask and throwing it somewhere, he didn't cared. He pulled Logan's pants and boxers down, and Logan stepped out of them, standing completely naked in front of Wade and with a very large erection tall and proud.

"Oh my god. Did you stabbed me in the brain and now I'm hallucinating?"

Logan doesn't respond, instead gripping Wade's jaw tight and gripping himself at the base of his cock. "Put that damn mouth to good use, will ya, bub." He smirks, not waiting before filling the mercs mouth to the brim with his lenght.

Wade fucking 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴 with his eyes and suck greedily, hollowing his cheeks and swirling his tongue around Logan's dick, the musky taste of him making his rock hard cock twitch in the confines of his suit.

Logan groans in pleasure, looking down at Wade on his knees and with his mouth full of him and best of all, fucking quiet. It's a goddamn head rush.

"Finally, some fucking peace." He grunts, gripping the back of Wade's bald head and starting to move his hips steadily to fuck into the mercs mouth, reaching deep into his throat until his lips meet his hairy groin and watching with a smirk as Wade gags and his eyes get glossy.

"If I knew this is all it took to shut 'ur sassy mouth, I would've done this ages ago." He thrusts particularly hard, watching with lust as the merc's throat bulges.

"Gonna keep ya on your knees from now on, bub. Using your mouth as my own personal fucktoy whenever you start annoying me too much." He moans, his thrusts getting faster.

Logan notices the tent in Wade's pants and grins, placing one foot on top of it and adding pressure, earning a moan from his mouth that vibrates through Logan's cock and his eyes roll back in pleasure. He could see a wet spot on the mercs pants as he felt Wade's cock throbbing under his feet. He adds a bit more pressure with a wicked smirk.

"Fuck, you look so good like that." His hips grow more erratic, fucking the merc's throat mercilessly as he groans. He pulls out suddenly, Wade gasps for air, his eyes holding a dreamy look. Logan slaps his cock against the merc's face three times, spearing his pre-cum on Wade's cheeks before pushing it back into his mouth, settling a relentless pace.

"Gonna fill your throat, bub. Swallow every drop like the cockslut you are." Oh, he didn't have to say it twice. After a few more thrusts Wade could feel him twitching repeatedly in his mouth before he thrusted deep and stilled, spilling his cum deep into Wade's throat to ensure he wouldn't waste a single drop. He swallowed eagerly, his own dick leaking desperately with pre-cum at the sight in front of him and the lewd animalistic noises leaving Logan's mouth.

When Logan finally pulls out after a few seconds, Wade gasps for air. His lips were puffy, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes glossy filled with lust, and Logan's dazed mind didn't think he could be any more beautiful. He removes his foot from Wade's crotch and runs a hand through his own hair, catching his breath.

"God that was so fucking hot. Fuck, peanut, almost jizzed in my pants just watching you." Wade gasps, making Logan smirk.

"Can't have that, bub. Get up. Now." Wade immediately obeys, and the moment he gets up on his feet, Logan is pressing their lips together in a heated, hungry kiss. Wade lets out a soft moan into his lips, kissing him back with equal fervor.

Logan could taste himself in Wade's tongue and his cock twitched back to life in response. He leads Wade backward to his own room while their lips are connected, closing the door shut the moment they get in. He shoves the merc into his own bed and looms over him with a predatory look.

"Oh, 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬." Wade gasps, feeling like he was being fucking hunted by an starving beast.

Logan's hand palms and squeezes Wade's bulge before removing his suit entirely, tossing it somewhere in the room.

Now with Wade's cock free, Logan grasp it in his hand and squeezes tightly, drawing a pathetic whimper from the mercs mouth.

"Now, listen to me carefully, bub. If ya even dare to cum without my permission I'll fucking chop your dick off, understand?" He asked with a dark tone, feeling Wade's scarred cock twitching in his hand, beads of pre-cum leaking from the tip.

"God, yes yes yes, please Wolvie~" Wade babbles, his mind overwhelmed with need.

Satisfied by his response, Logan turns him around and manhandles him into all fours, making him bend over. Spitting in Wade's hole, he rubs his finger against the rim teasingly. He thought about sliding in without preparing Wade first, but he's not that mean. I mean, sure, he stabs him with his claws all the time, but he wants Wade to feel good, wants to control his pleasure.

He slides one finger knuckles deep, feeling his cock throb at the moans that it elicited from Wade.

"𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺..." Logan smirked at the desperate whimpers and obliged him, adding a second finger and scissoring his hole open. He eventually adds a third one and thrusts them deep into Wade, grinning when he hears the gasp and whines that comes from the merc's mouth when his fingers brush against his prostate.

"Fuck- Wolvie... not enough, please, need your cock- Ah!" Wade gasps when he feels a hard smack against his ass. He was begging so prettily and besides Logan still wanting to tease him further he could feel his own cock throbbing with need.

"Desperate little thing, ain't ya?" He pulls his fingers out of Wade, earning a whine from him. He grips his own cock and rubs it against the merc's prepared hole.

"I'm taller than you- Oh fuck 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘫𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘴-" Wade whimpers loudly when Logan roughly pushes inside of him in one brutal thrust, reaching deep until his groin meets Wade's ass.

"Stop talking and just moan for me, bub." Logan grunts as he sets a punishing pace, fucking into Wade hard and fast, knocking the air out of his lungs. "God, you're tight."

Wade could feel Logan's cock so deep inside him and his whimpers were growing louder and louder with each rough thrust against his sweet spot, his cock leaking obscene amounts of pre-cum into the matress.

"Wolvie, feels so good~ fuck, so fucking good please don't stop-" Wade whines, his cock twitching desperately. He feels Logan scratching his back with his nails and the pain mixed with pleasure almost had him cumming right then and there already. "Shit- Logan, fuck- I'm so close, please please..." Just when it was all getting too much he whines out when Logan suddenly slow down his movements, fucking him in a torturing slow pace.

"No no no, please go faster, please, need it-" He's interrupted by his own gasp when Logan slaps his ass again, harder this time.

"Shut up. Take what you're given." He orders, driving into Wade slow and deep, not enough to drive him over the edge.

He keeps it like that until the merc is straight up crying out desperate pleas, alternating between fast and slow whenever Wade gets too close, his neglected cock slapping against his abdomen.

"Ah, fuck... That's it." Logan grunts as he thrusts hard into Wade, pleasured whimpers coming out of the merc's mouth non stop.

"C-Can't hold it- Please Wolvie please I'msosoclose-" Wade begs desperately and cries out loudly when Logan's claws suddenly dig into his shoulder, pressing him on the bed, his blood soaks the sheets as Logan keeps railing into him. The sudden pain sends shockwaves through Wade's brain. "Fuck!"

"Yes, you fucking can." He grunts, driving deep into the merc. But right when Wade was about to tip over, Logan pulled out and cums in his ass cheeks and back, leaving him desperate and needy. He unsheathed his claws from Wade's shoulder, watching as the wounds close in seconds.

"God- You selfish little prick! You're mean-" He curses but gasps when another hard smack is delivered against his skin.

"Watch your fucking mouth or I might just not let you cum at all." Logan warns.

"No no no, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'll be good, peanut. Pinky promess."

Logans grins at the desperation in Wade's voice, feeling a rush of power. He turns Wade around, laying him on his back.

Wade was panting, his sensitive cock twitching and leaking against his stomach.

"You look filthy." Logan grunts, his eyes filled with hunger.

"And you look like you're about to eat me alive."

Wade's eyes shine when Logan settles between his legs and a whimper leaves his lips when he takes him into his mouth, the pleasure making the merc's eyes roll back. "Yes, yes, yes... so good, shit-"

He couldn't help but buck his hips up into Logan's mouth, earning a dark glance and hands tight on his hips, Logan using his strength to hold him down. He bobs his head up and down over Wade's cock, sucking eagerly as he watches in awe every little reaction coming from the merc. Not long into his ministrations he could already feel Wade twitching in his mouth and his moans growing more desperate. He keeps it up until Wade was teetering on the edge and pulls his cock out of his mouth with a 'pop', chuckling at the frustration in Wade's whines.

"Already?" He tsks. "Such a pathetic little toy." He smirks and it earns a whimper from Wade.

"Don't bully me! It'll only make it worse..." He cries out, trying to buck his hips up but Logan didn't let him. "Please, this is torture! can't take anymore... Pretty please please please with a cherry on top!"

"Hmm... 𝘕𝘰." Logan grins before diving back and taking Wade's cock back into his mouth, setting a relentless torture as he brings Wade to the precipice and then brings him down again, taking him deep in his throat ans then pulling away just to watch the tears welling in Wade's eyes as he grow more and more desperate, begging and pleading.

When Logan did allowed Wade to cum, though (after what felt like hours) Wade was sure he never came so fucking hard in his entire life. The pleasure was so overwhelming and lasting that he got straight up dazed and nonverbal for minutes, only babbling incoherent words and something to do with "Luv ya, sugar tits" and "Sweet marvel jesus".

As he lies beside the groggy merc, Logan was just happy Wade got fucking quiet for once.

He might do this more often.

[s1ut-4-rafe]

GHOST OF US | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (One Shot)

Pairing - Rafe x Female Reader

Summary - Rafe Cameron has always been reckless, but his addiction was pushing you past your breaking point. Caught between love and self-preservation, you're forced to make the hardest decision of your life....to walk away.

Word Count - 1415

Content - angst, cokeaddict!rafe, heartbreak, a portrayal of a toxic but passionate relationship with Rafe.

Warnings - substance abuse, emotional abuse, violent outbursts

It’s late. Too late. You’ve been pacing the living room of Rafe’s apartment for over an hour, your phone clutched tightly in your hand. You’ve called him at least a dozen times, but each call went straight to voicemail. Your mind is racing, caught between worry and frustration.

He promised tonight would be different. Promised millions of times that he’d stay clean—that he’d come straight home after dropping Topper off. You wanted so badly to believe him, even though that little voice in the back of your mind warned you not to get your hopes up.

You remember the way he looked at you when he made that promise—blue eyes soft and sincere, hands cradling your face as he whispered, “I’m done with it, baby. I swear. I’m not gonna lose you over this.”

But now it’s almost 3 a.m., and your heart sinks deeper with every minute that ticks by. You’re not sure if you’re more worried about him or angry at him, but either way, the ache in your chest is suffocating.

Suddenly, the front door creaks open, and Rafe stumbles inside. Relief floods you for a split second before the reality of his state hits you. His eyes are bloodshot and glassy, his jaw clenched tight and grinding, and your heart plummets.

He doesn’t notice you at first, too busy shrugging off his jacket and wiping at his nose. You clear your throat, and his head snaps up, surprise flickering across his face.

“You promised me,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

Rafe blinks, his gaze unfocused. “Didn’t think you’d still be up,” he mutters, sounding almost annoyed.

Your hands shake as you take a step forward. “Didn’t think I’d still be up?” you repeat, your voice rising with hurt and anger. “You promised me, Rafe! You swore you were done with this!”

He scoffs, rubbing his hands over his face. “Yeah, well, things change.”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “Things change? That’s all you have to say? You lied to me! You looked me in the eyes and promised you’d stop! Was it all bullshit just to shut me up?”

Rafe’s eyes flash with irritation, and he shakes his head. “I didn’t lie. I meant it when I said it. Just… shit happened tonight, alright? It’s not that big of a deal.”

You stare at him, your heart shattering into pieces. “Not that big of a deal?” you echo. “You’re destroying yourself, Rafe. And I’m the idiot who keeps waiting around, hoping you’ll actually mean it this time.”

His own anger flares, and he throws his hands up in frustration. “God, you’re always on my case! Always telling me how I’m screwing up. You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t already feel like a piece of shit without you reminding me every damn day?”

Tears prick your eyes, but you force yourself to stay strong. “I’m not trying to make you feel worse! I’m trying to get you to see what you’re doing to yourself. To us. You promised me, Rafe. You swore I was enough for you to want to change. Or was that just another lie?”

His face crumples for a moment, and he steps closer, reaching out as if to touch you, but you pull back. The hurt in his eyes makes your chest tighten.

“It wasn’t a lie,” he whispers, voice shaky. “I meant it. I just… I don’t know how to stop. It’s like—I can’t breathe without it sometimes.”

Your shoulders slump, exhaustion weighing you down. “Then get help,” you plead. “Let me help you. Go to rehab—talk to someone. Just do something other than this. I’m begging you, Rafe.”

He looks away, his jaw clenching. “I don’t need rehab. I just… I just had a bad night.”

You wipe at your cheeks, frustrated with yourself for still crying over him. “Every night’s a bad night with you lately. I can’t keep doing this. I love you more than anything, but I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself while dragging me down with you.”

Panic flashes across his face, and he steps forward, hands trembling as he cups your face. “No. No, don’t say that. Don’t… don’t leave me. I swear I’ll fix it. Just—please, baby, don’t go.”

You choke on a sob, leaning into his touch for just a second before pulling away. “I’ve heard it all before. I’ve heard you promise to change a hundred times, but nothing ever gets better. I can’t keep losing myself trying to save you.”

He grips your hands desperately, his voice breaking. “I’ll do better. I’ll quit, I swear. I’ll go to meetings, I’ll talk to someone—just don’t walk away. I can’t… I can’t do this without you.”

You feel your resolve wavering, but then you remember all the sleepless nights, the broken promises, and the feeling of being left behind every time he chose the drugs over you. You can’t keep sacrificing your sanity for someone who refuses to save himself.

“I love you, Rafe,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face. “But I have to love myself, too. And I can’t do that if I’m always picking up your pieces.”

He pulls you into his arms, holding you so tightly it’s like he thinks you’ll disappear if he lets go. “Please,” he begs, voice cracking. “Please don’t leave me. I’ll do anything—just tell me what to do. I love you. I need you.”

You let yourself melt into his embrace for a moment, wishing more than anything that love could fix this. That your love could be enough to pull him out of this darkness. But it never has been.

You gently push him away, your voice soft and final. “You need to want to get better for yourself, not just because you’re scared of losing me. I hope one day you figure that out. I really do.”

He shakes his head frantically, his hands gripping your shoulders as if you’ll vanish the moment he lets go. You close your eyes, and for a split second, a memory crashes over you—the two of you lying in bed on a lazy Sunday morning, sunlight spilling through the window as Rafe traced patterns on your skin, whispering about the future you’d build together. Back then, his laughter was warm and unburdened, and you believed every promise he made.

Your heart clenches as the memory dissolves, replaced by the harsh reality in front of you. You can feel his breath against your face—uneven and desperate—and you know that if you look into his eyes right now, you’ll lose every bit of resolve you’ve fought so hard to build.

“Rafe…” you whisper, finally meeting his gaze. His eyes are shimmering with tears, his lips trembling. In one last, desperate attempt to keep you from slipping away, he pulls you closer and kisses you.

It’s not like the other kisses. It’s not rushed or rough or fueled by anger. It’s soft—achingly gentle—and filled with a desperation that makes your heart shatter. You can taste the salt of his tears as his hands cradle your face, trying to pour every apology and promise into that one kiss.

For a moment, you let yourself get lost in it. You let yourself pretend that things can go back to how they were before the lies, the broken promises, and the downward spiral. But reality crashes back, and you pull away, wiping your cheeks with shaking fingers.

Rafe’s hands drop to his sides, and the emptiness in his eyes is something you’ll never forget. You take a step back, your voice barely above a whisper. “Goodbye, Rafe.”

He stumbles forward, reaching for you. “Y/N, please—”

But you don’t look back. You force your feet to keep moving, leaving him standing there, frozen and helpless. As you step out into the cold night air, you hear the door slam behind you. Then comes the crash—a loud, sickening thud as something shatters inside. You pause on the sidewalk, heart pounding, as his screams pierce the silence.

“Fuck!” Rafe’s voice is ragged, filled with pure agony. You hear the sound of his fist pounding against the wall, over and over, like he’s trying to beat the pain out of himself. “Goddamn it!”

Your chest aches, and your legs feel like lead, but you keep walking. Tears stream down your face as his muffled cries grow distant. You know this time, no matter how much it hurts, you can’t go back.

[crushmeeren]

HI CRUSH !!!! congrats on 5k followers omg??

for the event, may i pretty please request a short drabble/oneshot for katsuki centered around the song teenage dream by katy perry!! (esp the first verse hehe its very bakudoll coded > <)

honestly i just chose this song cuz its very cutesy and fun but id like if the piece had some sort of connection to the line "i know you get me, so i let my walls come down, down" for bakugou !! other than that, very light and fluffy and silly :3

very veyryervrv excited to see what u make!!! plz have fun with this hehe MWAH ! congrats again my love !! <3

thank you so much dolly!!!!! that song flashes me back to middle school lmao when i was having my first crushes, it makes me nostalgic c:

i will keep it connected to that line for sure!! <3 i hope you enjoy!

p.s. those pics are killing me lmao

⋆ ⋆˙⟡ i know you get me, so i let my walls come down

| teenage dream ; katy perry |

Carnivals are on the bottom of the list labeled “things Katsuki actually fucking enjoys”.

He’s hell bent that they’re a waste of his hard earned free time. All he does is work. Which, he thinks with no small amount of irritation, consists of fighting in the heat, sweating, dealing with civilians that are a pain in his ass, and answering stupid questions.

Katsuki does the same shit at a carnival.

Every time he’s been dragged along to one by Kirishima he’s left feeling worse than when he arrived. Not to mention the food is complete and utter unhealthy trash.

So, one late Friday evening, Katsuki finds himself shocked to the core when he’s at a carnival with you and he’s…. enjoying himself. It makes him shiver.

You’re standing at the edge of the pier, taking an overdue break from the rides, and animatedly explaining to Katsuki about how your coworker had done something funny during the day.

“Anyhow,” you say, tossing a piece of pink cotton candy into your mouth. “I really can’t believe they didn’t get hurt,” you giggle, offering the sweet treat to Katsuki.

He doesn’t respond at first, heart pounding as he stares at you. Katsuki can taste the salty spray of the ocean from here, seagulls singing in the background. You told him it helps cool you off from the summer heat, that you’re glad the sun is setting for the evening.

Lucky for Katsuki the the orange sunset makes you glow. You’re an angel in his eyes. And, suddenly, he can’t stand the idea that this night will end.

Katsuki loved strolling the carnival, fingers threaded through yours. He loved riding the ferris wheel, throwing an arm around your shoulders and laughing when you squeal about how high up you are. He loved playing shitty games that cost too much money if it means winning you the stuffed animal you begged him for.

And sure, he’s sweaty as fuck, the people are annoying, but it doesn’t get under his skin so bad.

Katsuki snatches a piece of your cotton candy and pops it in his mouth, letting the pure sugar slowly melt on his tongue, pondering.

“What’s up with you Kat?” You tease, elbowing him. “You’re so quiet tonight.”

He smiles. A real smile, one full of warmth and love. “Nothing… I’m having fun.” He shrugs.

“Really?” You ask, excitement creeping into your voice. “You hate these kinds of things!”

“Fuck yeah I do,” he agrees. “But not with you, doll.” He lifts a hand to cradle the side of your face, thumb swiping over your cheek bone. “Nobody else makes me feel so alive.”

You press into his touch, flushing to the tips of your ears. “I feel the same way,” you assure with a smile.

Katsuki can’t ever let you go, won’t ever let this go. He dips down to press a chaste kiss to your cheek, dropping his hand. “Want to see if I can make a fool of those fuckers at the ring toss stand again?”

You agree with ease, snatching his hand, yanking and telling him to hurry up before the line gets too long.

Katsuki wins you three stuffed bunnies.

⋆ ⋆˙⟡ 5k event

ah, doll, bestie, i hope i was able to convey what you wanted without explicitly stating it. <3

[dovesdreaming]

Soft spot for the merc with a mouth

Reader is known for being grumpy but there’s one person that breaks through this exterior and it’s no other than Deadpool, someone known for being deathly annoying.

I want to write more for this dynamic!

Warnings: none

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You weren’t exactly known for being the friendliest person around. In fact, most people would describe you as grumpy, prickly, or just plain difficult. You didn’t go out of your way to make friends, and you certainly didn’t have patience for the kind of nonsense most people seemed to thrive on. You preferred your solitude, your routine, and your quiet. But then there was Wade Wilson. You didn’t know how it happened, how this loud, obnoxious, ridiculous man had somehow wormed his way into your life and worse, into your heart. It was like one day, you were minding your own business, enjoying your solitude, and the next, Deadpool was there, cracking jokes, causing chaos, and, for some unfathomable reason, you found yourself actually tolerating it. Hell, you more than tolerated it. You.. liked it.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t annoying-oh, he was annoying as hell. He never stopped talking, always had a smart-ass remark, and seemed to get a kick out of pushing every single one of your buttons. But there was something about him, something that made you let your guard down just a little, something that made you.. softer. Not that you’d ever admit it out loud. “Hey, Sunshine!” Wade’s voice rang out as he barged into your apartment like he owned the place. “Miss me?”.

You rolled your eyes, not even bothering to look up from the book you were reading. “No. And I thought I told you to knock”. Wade plopped down on the couch beside you, completely ignoring your grumpy tone. “Yeah, but knocking’s so boring. Plus, I like to keep you on your toes. Keeps the relationship spicy, y’know?”. You shot him a glare, but he just grinned at you, completely unfazed. “Wade, one of these days, I’m going to lock you out, and I won’t let you in until you learn how to use a doorbell like a normal person”. “Ah, but you won’t, because deep down, you love my spontaneous visits. Admit it, you missed me”. You huffed, trying to keep your face neutral. “You were only gone for a couple of hours”. “Exactly! That’s a couple of hours too long”. Wade’s expression turned mock-serious as he leaned closer, his face inches from yours. “I can see it in your eyes, babe. You were lost without me”. Despite yourself, the corner of your mouth twitched, fighting back a smile. But you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction. “If by ‘lost’ you mean ‘enjoying the peace and quiet, then sure”. Wade chuckled, clearly seeing right through your tough exterior. “You’re adorable when you’re in denial, y’know that?”. “Adorable?” You scoffed, though your voice lacked its usual bite. “You’re the first person to ever call me that”. “Well, that’s because I’m a trendsetter,” Wade declared, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “Now, tell me how much you missed me.”

You rolled your eyes again, but didn’t pull away from his embrace. Wade might have been the only person on the planet who could get away with this kind of behavior without getting a swift kick in the shins. “You’re impossible”. “And you’re irresistible” he countered, his voice dropping into a playful whisper as he nuzzled his nose against your neck. “It’s like we were made for each other”. You snorted, but the sound was more affectionate than derisive. “You’re so full of it, Wade.” “But you love it,” he teased, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Admit it. You’re totally into me”. You sighed, finally allowing yourself to relax into his hold. “Yeah, yeah. I’m into you, Wade. Now shut up and let me read”.

Wade let out an exaggerated gasp, clutching his chest like you’d just confessed your undying love for him. “You said it! You’re into me! Oh, this is the best day ever!”. You couldn’t help the small smile that broke through your grumpy facade. “Don’t let it go to your head”. Wade grinned, his eyes shining with that familiar mischief. “Too late. Now, come on, put the book down and let’s do something fun. I brought tacos!”. You raised an eyebrow. “Did you actually bring tacos, or are you just saying that to get me to move?”.

Wade gave you a look of mock indignation. “I would never joke about tacos. They’re sacred. And yes, they’re in the kitchen. I thought we could have a little taco picnic and watch some crappy movies together”. You rolled your eyes, but the idea of spending the evening with Wade, eating tacos and making sarcastic comments about bad movies, was more appealing than you cared to admit. “Fine. But if you eat all the guac, I’m kicking you out”. “Deal”. Wade hopped up from the couch, practically bouncing with excitement. “I knew you couldn’t resist me”. You watched him disappear into the kitchen, feeling the warmth in your chest that only he could bring out. Yeah, Wade was annoying, loud, and sometimes downright infuriating. But he was also the only person who could make you smile, who could break through your grumpiness and make you feel… well, happy.

Maybe you were still the grumpy one to everyone else. But with Wade, you could be soft. And that was something you’d never take for granted. By the time Wade returned with a plate full of tacos, you were already grabbing the remote to pick out a movie. He plopped down beside you, handing you a taco with a wide grin. “To us” Wade said, raising his taco like a toast. You rolled your eyes one last time, but clinked your taco against his. “To us”.

As the night went on, you found yourself laughing more than you had in a long time, your usual grumpiness melting away in the warmth of Wade’s presence. And for once, you didn’t mind letting someone else in.