#frankly i ask he do a bit of wrong in my direction

[elitewrestlinghoe]

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: the future pink walls

pairing: aaron warner x reader

synopsis: you desperately try to convince your moody husband to spruce up his dull room decor but it turns into something much more exciting…

warnings: implication of making love

a/n: the reader character was meant to be a bit lorelai gilmore-esque sooo I’m hoping you guys can see that and as more aaron warner has been heavily requested I had to oblige 🤭🤭

taglist: @wish-i-were-heather @midiosaamor @fleuriosa @maybxlle @whatsamongus @elysianwayy77 @lovethornes @emelia07 @inmyheaddd @sweetreveriee @azysmate @anintellectualintellectual @off-to-the-r4ces @hermesenthusiast @peppapigsposts

“Can we paint it pink?” I asked, folding my arms as I analysed the desk.

Brown was so boring and… woody. This room practically had no personality and needed a serious magic touch. I happened to think myself to have quite the sparkle in my fingertips.

“No,” Aaron said. Not sharply or snappily just a definitive end to a conversation he clearly did not want to have.

Too bad he married a stubborn mule of a woman with a very talkative nature. I flashed my puppy dog eyes in his direction.

“But it would look so darling in pink,” I cooed, holding up the coloured paper to the drawers one more time.

“It would clash with the decor,” he said stiffly, refusing to meet my eye as he looked visibly uncomfortable at the thought of a pink desk.

I sighed, and pondered, thinking of a way to work around that problem, “we could paint the decor pink.”

Aaron’s face somehow fell even flatter, “absolutely not.”

Men are so boring. It was just a little colour. I didn’t really understand what he was so afraid of. Besides the room was so outdated and dark, it was practically a funeral parlour. The only thing with a little personality was the dying desk plant.

“Why?” I pouted, making my eyes all wide and sparkly.

“It’s vintage,” he replied, glaring at me.

It was one of those glares that were insanely hot but just with the wrong timing. The little annoyed divot he got just above his eyebrow nearly made him adorable but I decided not to be so easily wooed by my husband, though I could’ve easily forgotten all about what I was talking about and taken him into my arms.

“Okay fine,” I replied, leaning on the desk now, “we can paint the walls pink at least.”

“No,” he deadpanned as if this conversation was worse than gorging his own eyes out with a bent spoon.

My eyebrows pinched together tightly, “did Kenji annoy you this morning?”

“Kenji annoys me every morning,” he shrugged, pulling down the sleeves of his suit jacket with a little aggression.

“More than usual?” I fished, eyebrows raised.

“No…” he responded, squinting his eyes by a fraction of an inch, in suspicion.

“Then why are you being so moody,” I asked.

“I am not being moody,” he said, a distasteful look on his face, “I am just unprepared to turn the office into a five year old girl’s dream bedroom.”

My jaw dropped and I held a hand to my chest and stared at him dead in the eye, “are you implying that I have the taste of a five year old?”

“I love you very much my love-“

“Oh no Mr,” I wagged my finger at him, “you cannot sway me, not one bit, I’m quite frankly very offended.”

I was teasing of course, but sometimes Aaron took everything that little too seriously. Now was one of those very amusing times.

He reached out for me, a flash of desperate panic in his eyes, “you know I didn’t mean-“

“No, I don’t actually,” I said, shrugging him off, “so sorry but I’m going to have to ignore you for the rest of eternity.”

“That’s a pretty long time,” he pointed out quietly, looking down at the floor like a naughty child.

“I’m too impatient for that…” I groaned, “…fine. For the rest of the day.”

“Well,” he shrugged, a sudden smile creeping across his features as he inched closer to me, “we don’t have to talk.”

His arms were practically calling me and I suddenly found myself craving to be in them. He knew what he was doing, using weakness against me. I turned my head to the side and shuffled backwards.

Then I put my hand up before he could touch my lips and gently pushed him away, “nu-uh, no kisses either.”

His face fell, “What?”

“It’s my new policy,” I shrugged smoothly.

“Then take it back,” he said, an untamed sharpness biting through his tone.

I smiled coyly, “no.”

“Take it back,” he repeated, with a little more annoyance.

A grin spread widely across my lips.

“Take what you said about the pink paint back,” I replied.

Cue the silence. There wasn’t even a cricket chorus or tumbleweed to accompany it. It was almost deafening.

“That’s what I thought,” I winked, turning my back to him.

“Love-“

“I’m ignoring you,” I sang, folding my arms.

“Sweetheart please-“

I began walking away, very slowly, humming a made up tune to myself, trying to override my brain going mental over the way he called me sweetheart.

“We can paint the spare room pink,” Aaron sighed.

I stopped in my tracks and spun around, both eyebrows shooting up. Aaron’s arms were folded tightly across his chest as he stared back at me.

“Really?” I asked, biting my lip as I tried to keep my excitement at bay.

“As pink as you like,” he said, as I stepped closer.

“Can we paint little clouds on the walls too?” I pushed it further to see how far I could take it.

“Yes,” he nodded immediately.

“And glitter,” I smirked.

He winced.

“And glitter…” I repeated, a little more aggressively, batting my eyelids.

He sighed outwardly, “and glitter.”

He was probably questioning his every life decision and to be quite honest, I couldn’t blame him. Out of all the millions of girls who would throw themselves to his every whim he chose the one that would force him into painting a pink room with clouds and glitter.

“Marry me,” I smiled, falling back into his arms.

He caught me flawlessly of course, with his muscular arms pressing tight against my back, the palm of his hand holding the small of my waist so delicately it made me shudder.

“We’re already married love,” he replied with an eye roll.

“Marry me again,” I shrugged, standing up right again, planting a quick kiss on his cheek, “you are immediately forgiven, you said the magic words of pink and cloud and glitter and now everything can be okay again!”

“Funny,” he mused, pursing his lips together, “when I give you what you want, I’m suddenly a saint.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as saint,” I scoffed my eyes flicking down for a mere moment.

The corners of his mouth turned up for a fraction of a second before his face returned to something more sinister, “you manipulated me into painting a room pink,” he almost laughed, like some sort of revelation he’d just come to, “I think you’re one of the only people who has ever done that to me.”

“I would never!” I gasped, melodramatically clutching my chest, pausing for a beat, then glancing at my nails, “but I am a primadonna and I like to get my way.”

“Hmmm I hadn’t noticed,” he rolled his eyes, placing his hands on my hips and pulling me closer into his body.

“Well I’m sorry,” I said, ignoring the blush that was clearly creeping up my neck, “but you really should’ve read the label before you bought the product.”

“You being the product?” he raised a sharp blonde brow at my inventive metaphor.

“Naturally,” I nodded.

“Well doesn’t that make our relationship sound so darling,” he said dryly, “besides it’s not my fault I couldn’t see you were such a manipulator, I was blinded by your beauty.”

I stared at him dead in the eye and struggled not to laugh. Every pore in my body just wanted to crack up but my inner monologue had to keep me in check.

‘Keep it together. Keep it together. Keep it together. He’s being sweet and charming and treating you like a princess and-‘

“What?”

“That was cheesy,” I teased, allowing myself a small giggle as I rested my arms so they locked together just behind his neck.

His lips pulled into a tight line, “you are the first and only ever woman that would call my flirting cheesy.”

“Wow and how many women have you been with before me,” I scoffed, I cocked my head to the side, “three?”

“Two actually,” he mumbled.

“Well they say third times a charm,” I winked.

“A charm…” he mused, “what an interesting way to put it.”

I laughed, “and yet you still like me.”

“I don’t like you, love,” he murmured, his hands suddenly awfully hot on my hips, “I’m infatuated with you.”

A shiver ran down my spine, right into the depths of my stomach where it gave the little butterflies even more energy as they started to dance and backflip and do all matter of acrobatics that I could only ever dream of.

“Did you just quote Shakespeare?” I asked.

Aaron looked unimpressed, “you are so undereducated in literature.”

“Just because no one uses the word infatuated anymore,” I tusked, rolling my eyes.

“I just did,” he replied, exasperated.

“Well you’re…” I struggled to find the right word, “…you.”

“I thought you liked me,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to mine.

“Meh,” I replied in a low voice, “depends on the day.”

“Oh really?” Aaron said.

“Mhmmm,” I mumbled, “today’s a come ci come ca kind of day.”

“Well let me make it an embrasse-moi jusqu'à ce que tu ne puisses plus respirer kind of day for you,” he whispered, planting a soft kiss on my cheek bone. It was so gentle I barely registered that I was touched.

“I have no clue what you just said but it was hot as hell,” I laughed, trailing my fingertips up his neck.

And suddenly he was kissing me. I couldn’t pin when it started he just was. More soft kisses but this time all over my mouth that were just to die for. A gentle, slow, heavenly manoeuvre that left me longing for more.

I giggled, “and I don’t mind if you do that again.”

Aaron Warner took comments like that seriously. I took my lips back into his and spoke poems of love with no words at all. His palm was pressed flat across my back as the passion and longing for it all sent me stumbling backwards into a wall. A switch flipped or that was what it felt like and suddenly desperation became such a raw and sweet taste. We were clinging to one another, hands deep in hair, crumpling clothes, eyes closed just to take in a moment this divine, this eternal. The kisses were rougher, full of such intensity and heat. They were rapid, one after the other barely time for thought, let alone breath. We forgot what oxygen was and all of its benefits because nothing compared to this.

“Stop talking,” he said in a low, husky voice, lips immediately back on mine as soon as he’d got the words out as if he couldn’t wait to satisfy his craving, his lust.

“I can’t,” I said breathlessly between a kiss, before Aaron went in for the next one, “it’s borderline impossible,” he kissed me again, “I genuinely think I have a problem.”

“Shhhh,” he whispered, his palm pressed between the back of my head and the wall, chest falling up and down against mine. His finger dragging softly across my tingling lips, then down my jaw to my chin. He tilted my head backwards slightly.

“God you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, looking at me like I was golden, like I was the universe, like I was everything.

A warmth spread across the left side of my chest as the beating of my heart began to race to a nearly dangerous speed.

“Yeah, you’re alright looking too,” I winked.

Aaron sighed, still breathless.

“I’m kidding,” I told him gently, “you are the most beautiful man I ever saw.”

He paused for a moment, a pinkish tint rising in his cheeks at just at the top of his ears.

He leant down, putting his mouth to my ear, “what did I tell you about talking?”

And then I was back on his mouth. In a labyrinth of twisting tongues and sugary breaths. Desire, it burnt a hollow hole to my heart, a fiery red flame licking my flesh, exposing the naked organ. Bold and pulsating, it beat only to his name. It will forever only beat to his name.

“You just spoke,” I said, drawing back for a moment, “it’s not fair if you get to and I don’t.”

“I have an off switch,” he replied, “you, on the other hand-“

“Hey I thought you loved me and all the French Shakespeare stuff,” I exclaimed, waving my hand at him.

“I do,” he whispered, nose brushing over mine, “just shhhh, love.”

“I don’t think I can,” I smiled.

“I believe in you,” he said on my lips.

Oh I never knew a man could touch so tenderly. His hand slipped beneath my shirt, they were on my waist, ice cold against the heat of my skin. Goosebumps decorated my curves as a chill down ran down my spine. And he never stopped kissing. It was back to a gentle, passionate rhythm of kisses, some longer and slower and some creeping into the area of longing from before but all so full of love. I could feel it so strongly, so poignantly, like some sort of otherworldly force that neither of us would ever be able to control.

I pull away for a second, my chest heaving up and down like a untamed madwoman.

“No,” kiss, “I’m,” kiss, “serious,” kiss , “Aaron,” kiss “I-“

My breath was sucked away with another kiss, until I physically couldn’t form words. It was one way to shut me up. My hands clung to the fabric of his shirt, trailing desperately up into the depths of his hair. I gripped the chunks of blonde with raw desperation. We stumbled backwards and my back hit the door. Pain shot through it for a fraction of a second and if it lingered any longer I didn’t feel it. My distraction was too great.

I fumbled around for the handle, pushing open the door as we backed into the bedroom, still tongue tied, lost in euphoria. My head spun, the room spun, but everything was so perfect. And then suddenly I was aware of the mattress beneath me and Aaron on top. He gave no indication he may stop. I didn’t even recall falling onto the bed, my brain so overridden by emotion that I couldn’t comprehend things properly.

I placed two hands firmly on his chest and he paused, breathless, lips plumped and red, hair wild and ragged.

“What is it, love? Do you want me to stop?”

Worry ran riot over his features and shame glistened in his emerald eyes. Never did I hold so much love for one being in all my life.

“Kenji and J are going to be here in ten minutes,” I reminded him, going to push him off but not quite bringing myself to.

His eyes roamed me up and down very slowly, as if he was taking in every second, before leaning down to my ear and whispering darkly, “we’ll make it quick.”

“You slut,” I chuckled in the back of my throat, as he pressed his lips back onto mine.

“You don’t mind, love?” he murmured, with a smirk that highlighted his dimples, “do you?”

“Oh,” I grinned, tilting my head back to take his lips back into mine, “not one bit.”

I wrapped an arm around neck as he pressed our lips back together. I pulled him down onto me.

a/n: guys idk if the end got too heated there… should I have written that 🫣🫣 I feel like shatter me is worse though, right??

anyways #bellaisbackfromthedead heyyyyy guys, sorry I’ve been so absent lately!! mocks have been killing me but it’s the last week this week so yayayyay should be up and running with lots of fics soon!! though I’d finish March off with a touch of aaron warner, I hope you all enjoyed xx

shatter me masterlist

[neiptune]

is it casual now?

cw: 2.7k wc, NSFT, f!reader, reader wears a dress + makeup, suggestive, vaginal fingering, you're absolutely certain the man you're seeing isn't the jealous type but perhaps his friend knows better...

“Wait, ‘Tsumu, stop moving”, you grumble as you take his face in your hands and gently rub your thumbs over his lower eyelids, “it’s all smudged, why’d you let your teammate do it?”.

“He said I’d look hot”, he pouts, leaning into your hold. You roll your eyes.

“It does suit you but next time please pick a waterproof eyeliner”.

As you keep carefully cleaning the stubborn black blotches, Atsumu’s eyes dart to a spot behind you. Whatever he sees, makes him snicker.

“I said don’t move”, you roughly keep his face in place when he attempts to peek over your shoulder even further.

“Your man’s upset”, he asserts, amusement dripping from every syllabe. You furrow your brows in confusion and follow his gaze for a second. Sure enough, you meet Shoyo’s eyes right away. He simply smiles back but there’s something simmering underneath it, something that makes the corners of his mouth a little tense.

While you’re happy to be at a fun housewarming party, Inunaki’s new apartment is a million degrees and you’ve never been more grateful for your choice of makeup. When he approached the little chatty group as you were being introduced to Alexandre, lips pursed and a desperate plea to fix his face, Atsumu looked like a mess.

“He’s not my man”, you mutter, thumb rubbing a little more hashly to remove the last remaining smudges.

“Does he know?”.

“We’re just seein’ each other. Plus, he’s not the jealous type”.

“Man”, Atsumu chuckles, “you really don’t know Shoyo”. He kinda gets off to the fact that even his friend doesn’t seem to know himself well enough, always far too busy being the nice guy. But that facade can sometimes waver, especially when others start relying a bit too much on how much of a nice dude he is.

You flick Atsumu’s forehead before letting go of his face, the petulant oww! making you laugh. And then you’re far too engrossed in the warmth rising from your neck to your cheeks as the familiar weight of a muscular arm suddenly settles over your shoulders, to notice your friend’s pleased smirk. Oh, Bokuto is so going to lose the bet.

“Hey, what are you guys doin’?”, Shoyo’s tone is light. Neither of you is big on PDA and frankly you’re not even a couple but the heat radiating from his body is so comforting, you can’t help but melt into his side a little. He pulls you closer, calloused fingertips faintly brushing against your neck.

“I needed some help with my eyeliner”, Atsumu flashes his usual million dollar smile.

“That so?”, Hinata’s eyes slightly crinkle at the corners, “I told Kotaro that brand was the wrong choice”.

“Thank god someone was here to fix it. I look good now, right?”, the question is explicitly directed at you and the implication of what he’s trying to do makes you giggle.

“You do, ‘Tsumu”.

“Why, thank you! Although not nearly as good as you, where’d ya even get that dress?”.

“I picked it”, Shoyo is still nonchalant, just a normal answer to a regular question, but his old teammate knows better. “I think Sakusa was looking for you”.

Atsumu tilts his head to the side, tongue in cheek. “Really?”.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he was wandering ‘round asking about you. Don’t let us keep you”, Hinata smiles, the hand holding a flute of champagne rises to vaguely indicate the kitchen.

The older Miya hums, reassuring, waves goodbye with the promise of finding you later. You watch him scurry away with a weird skip in his step and can’t help but laugh again: he hasn’t changed at all.

“Having fun?”, Shoyo lifts his arm from your shoulders but keeps a warm hand sprawled on your back.

“Yes”, you smile, “everyone’s really nice, thank you for inviting me”.

“I wouldn’t fully enjoy it without you here”, he beams, “Shion says you’re the only one who can get ‘Tsumu to shut up”.

A timid giggle, for his ears only at last. “You guys simply don’t try hard enough”.

Shoyo moves his hand down until it rests on the small of your back, big and comforting as his touch always is. The warmth seeping through the thin fabric of your dress makes something in your chest flutter with need.

“Come, you didn’t meet Akaashi yet”.

The next hour is a blur of introductions, pleasant conversations, familiar faces and new ones cordially welcoming you in a way that never once made you feel nervous about a setting where everyone already knows each other.

It’s the first time Shoyo’s officially asked if you wanted to hang out with his friends, the first time in a social setting where it’s not just the two of you. Does that mean he’s inclined to take the next step, maybe ask if the dating can become less casual? Something exclusive? Not that you’ve been seeing anyone else ever since meeting him. As if that could’ve been possible, even if you wanted to.

You remember that night out in Osaka, casually running into an old friend in a crowded bar, right by the counter. You couldn’t believe he was still sporting the same ridiculous bottle blond hair. After a few minutes of pleasantries Atsumu wasted no time in diverting his attention, the idea of your cute friend feeling left out a possibility his generous heart simply couldn’t handle. And so, as the two (much to your horror) hit it off, you were left awkwardly standing to the side, eyes scanning the packed tables to keep yourself busy until someone with a deep, kind voice invited you to sit next to him.

Hinata looked nothing short of gorgeous underneath the red-yellow lights, confident smile and charming, hazel eyes inviting as ever. You were lured in right away. You both briefly joked about having been brutally left out but he didn’t seem to mind really, not as he got to buy you a drink and ask questions about how you and Atsumu knew each other. Neither of you noticed when he left with your friend, far too absorbed in a conversation that effortlessly went on and on for what felt like five minutes but was instead an hour. It was like a dream: your thigh pressed to his, fingers closed around cold glasses casually brushing against each other.

When he offered to walk you home, you wouldn’t dream of refusing. You still remember how you’d both melt in giggles when the questions overlapped, your curiosity revolving around his career in a foreign country and interests fiercely rivaled by his eagerness to unravel every mystery you held. Asking if he felt like having another drink at yours was a temptation you couldn’t resist, but Shoyo politely refused right by your apartment, lopsided grin exuding a magnetism you felt desperately attracted to.

I’d like to take you out on a real date first.

You remember the smile stretching your lips, the panic that followed upon realizing that your phone was long forgotten in your friend’s purse. You remember Shoyo’s fingers gently wrapping around your wrist as he jotted down his number on your palm, murmuring something about the traditional way being more fun. It had been forever since a man had given you his number and, with that, the freedom to choose whether to text him or not. Hinata really felt different from the very start.

He’s just the guy you’ve been seeing for the past month and a half. The man you wish to be exclusive with, the mere idea of calling him your boyfriend stirring a storm of butterflies in your core.

Neither of you is big on PDA and yet his hands get increasingly bold, always decent but unable to stay away from your body. Shoyo’s always touching you somehow: a gentle hold on your hip, fingers brushing against the exposed skin of your arm, one hand on your back guiding you across the living room. You decide to get bold too. After he excitedly brings you a plate of puff pastries filled with chocolate cream, while he distractedly details the training program his team is going to have to resume in Brazil, your thumb reaches up to his mouth and gently skims over the corner of his lips, to collect the excess of chocolate cream. Shoyo stops mid sentence, lips parted as he watches you bring that same thumb to your mouth with a coy smile.

“Hey guys”, Atsumu’s voice startles you but not him, still so intently focused on you and nothing else, “Samu has a few questions about the next tournament, Sho, the sponsorship…”.

Hinata offers his friend a smile and his plate of pastries. “Let’s talk about this later, ‘Tsumu”.

The setter blinks, a knowing smile slowly finding its way onto his lips.

“Sure”, he then redirects his attention to you, “having a good time? Man, did I tell ya how pretty ya look tonight? Like, really p—”

For the first time throughout the evening, Shoyo’s hand daringly takes yours, palm warm and solid against your own. “Sorry, kinda busy at the moment. Don’t worry though, I’ll make sure to pass the message”, he grins warmly at his friend, who’s left nearly as dumbfounded as you when Hinata slips his fingers in between yours and pulls you away with him, deaf to whoever calls after him as you trail behind, passing by small groups of guests who look at you funny while you stumble all the way up the stars in a fit of laughter.

“What’s going on?”, although amused, you can barely keep up with his bold strides. He’s so quick you don’t quite understand how it happens when he bursts into the bathroom, rapidly closes the door and presses you up against it with the utmost urgency. Shoyo only relaxes when your noses are finally brushing, his broad hands finding their designated place on your hips, lightly pushing the skirt of your dress up in the process. You feel the relief in his exhale and chuckle, nudge the tip of his nose with yours.

“Hi”, he murmurs, the ghost of a smile teasing plush lips.

“Hi”, you whisper back, amused. Shoyo cocks his head a little, mouth almost touching yours but not quite, the scent of his cologne making your head spin.

“Missed you”.

“I’ve been here the whole time?”.

“Yeah”, he breathes, “but I couldn’t do this”, the kiss is tentative at first, sweet, but Shoyo soon can’t help himself. Not when you wrap your arms around his neck, one hand messily carding through his hair and tugging lightly at the strands. The way he likes it.

With a soft groan, he urges you to further part your lips with a needy skirt of the tongue along their seam and you’re happy to comply, allow him to deepen the kiss even if your lungs pose the risk of collapsing from the lack of oxygen. You can’t bring yourself to care as Shoyo roughly feels the back of your thighs and then squeezes, a silent demand. Once more, you yield easily and jump, a strong arm wraps around your middle as he catches you with close to no effort and a boyish grin, your legs tight around his waist as he shuffles to the marble countertop. You refuse to let him go even after he gently rests you on it, legs still wrapped around his hips as you take his face between your palms and kiss him some more, until Shoyo’s the one who has to pull back with a soft gasp for air.

“To what do I owe the honor?”, you ask, chest heaving, lips swollen and sleek with spit. He smiles, one thumb gently rubbing at the skin underneath your bottom lip, in a useless attempt at clearing up some of the drastically smudged lipstick.

“What? I can’t kiss my girl?”.

My girl. The way he can make those two simple words sound makes your stomach churn.

“Besides”, Shoyo starts sponging kisses over the juncture between your shoulder and neck and a content sigh slips past your lips, “Atsumu was being severely belittling. Pretty”, he clicks his tongue in disapproval, “you look breathtaking tonight”. As if to underline his point, rough palms slide up your exposed thighs and start rubbing comforting circles by your hips, the skirt of your dress pretty much completely lifted now as he starts tracing your neck with lips that are dangerously skilled.

“Shoyo”, it’s meant to be a warning but it comes out weaker. A plea.

“Can I show you? How beautiful I think you are?”, his voice is gravelly now, serious in its reverence. Traitorous desire licks at your core when his knuckles brush against the cotton of your panties, gut already tight in anticipation.

“What if, ah... someone comes in?”, the single ounce of reason left in your brain puts on a good fight but is inevitably flickering like a candle. Hinata disrupts your prudence the same way air flowing around a flame shatters its balance of oxygen supply.

“Then they’ll know too”, he sounds way too pleased with himself and you’re about to protest, you really are, but he’s suddenly mouthing at the spot below the corner of your jaw and it’s harsher than usual. When Shoyo sinks his teeth into your soft skin you gasp and subconsciously roll your hips against him, the twinge of pain soon soothed by the warmth of his tongue.

This is so unlike him. Not the passion, nor the eagerness, but the greed. It feels like he’s trying to consume you whole and you’re too drunk on the sensation to realize that maybe, just maybe, Atsumu had a point. Hinata’s not the jealous type but could it be that he might just be the possessive kind instead?

One of his fingers catches in the waistband of your underwear and you istinctively loosen the hold of your legs around his waist, parting them instead to open yourself up for him. It’s still not enough of an authorization in his book.

“Can I touch you?”, he whispers and his breath fans hot over the wet, sore spot of your neck.

“Please”, you breathe and he kisses you again with a satisfied hum, slow, deliberate. The coldness of a metal ring presses to your heat, already so slick with aching arousal, as two fingers easily slide through. It’s crazy, the effect his touch has on your body, every nerve ending catching fire as soon as he so much as grazes it. Did a man ever make you feel the same way? You don’t remember, you can hardly even think as you produce the softest moans against his mouth, hips rocking to meet the steady motion of his fingers, damp forehead pressing to yours just as desperately. The way he's panting only turns you on more.

When he abruptly removes his hand, way before you have the chance to come undone at the mercy of his skilled touch, the outright obscene wail you let out makes him chuckle.

“See?”, he murmurs, breathless, glossy fingers lifted high and carefully inspected in the brightly illuminated bathroom, much to your embarrassment. “Beautiful”.

Shoyo is not poking fun at you, quite the opposite: he’s dead serious. It’s his pure devotion that does it each time for you, the way he conveys how devastatingly attracted he is to you. Maybe it’s the need burning hot in your abdomen, the treacherous pleasure still pulsating in your limbs, but suddenly you’re eager to let him know too. Your fingers impulsively close around his wrist and stop his hand from reaching his mouth, head inching forward to capture his tanned fingers with your lips instead.

Shoyo’s pupils blow. The way his jaw tenses sends a shudder down your spine. It’s with a disbelieving groan that he presses down onto your tongue, warm and so wet around him as you carefully suck to the knuckle. His other hand catches your cheek, roughly cups it but is attentive in tilting your head back, to get a better view.

“Fuck”, he mutters, “how did I get so lucky?”.

He keeps his eyes on you as he easily slips out of your grip, with a wet pop. You want to tell him that you’re the lucky one, still in disbelief at how or why a man who looks like that, with a heart so big, is choosing to stay by your side. But Shoyo takes your face in his hands with a faint smile, gently angles it to inspect the prominent shadow forming underneath your jaw.

“This”, his thumb fondly strokes the tender skin, “is for them”. He kisses your lips once, then gently unclasps your fingers from his white button down as he gets down on both knees without ever breaking eye contact.

“This”, your breath catches when he further parts your knees, nibbles softly at your inner thigh before kissing it tenderly. The way he deeply breathes your scent in after tugging your panties aside sends a wave of fresh arousal rippling through your veins. “This is for me”.

[thejukeboxzero]

Heyyyyy looks like we got a cas-centric chapter for pt.4!

_____

Castiel knew his day wasn’t going to improve the moment Jack ran ahead of him into the house shouting as loud as his little lungs would allow, “Uncle Gabe, Uncle Gabe, daddy hit someone at school!”

Fantastic, just as his stress headache began to ebb away, a new one appeared, leaning against the kitchen door jamb with a wide grin on his face.

“So let me get this straight-”

It had taken him the better part of half an hour to explain his split knuckles and tear stained cheeks to his older brother, crammed into the breakfast nook with Jack snugly on his lap, too occupied with a coloring page to notice any of Castiel's lingering distress.

“Tall, green-eyed, and rugged offers you free drinks and you say ‘no’?” In true Gabriel fashion, he’s more worried about Castiel’s social skills than anything else, “You fucking amateur.”

Castiel reaches down and cups his hands over his son's ears, “Don’t curse in front of Jack.”

“Last I checked this is my house and I can do what I please.” 

He’s not wrong. How his financially irresponsible older brother managed to afford a decent three-bedroom is beyond him (and frankly he thinks he’s better off not knowing). He doesn't even charge Castiel rent, saying that ‘the entertainment of the Cassie & Jack show’ is worth more than money.

“But really, Cassie, free drinks.”

Castiel sighs, resting his forehead on top of Jack's fluffy hair. Today has left him drained, gone was the sheer panic that made him want to cry, throw up, and punch something all at once (though he did do two of those things), now he’s just… tired.

“Free drinks to make up for the fact that he kidnapped my son. Jack's life is much more valuable than some watered down beer...”

“You’re right, you’re right,” His brother strolls across the kitchen and hauls Jack into his arms with ease, ignoring Castiel's protests as he does, “He’s at least worth a bottle of the good scotch, aren’t ya’ buddy?”

Jack nods enthusiastically despite most definitely not knowing what half of those words mean.

“Gabriel.”

“Well I’m sorry, Cas, but top shelf whiskey might be a bit of a stretch-”

“Gabriel!” He admonishes, lunging out to grab Jack back, only for Gabe to step away and heft the giggling child onto his shoulders, “Give me back my son.”

A blonde eyebrow is cocked in his direction, “Or what? You're gonna’ knock my pretty teeth in too?”

Jack hangs his head in front of his uncle's face, ruining any of Castiel's plans to follow through on his brother's suggestion, “Dean says daddy only hits bad guys but that daddy hit him ‘cos he thought Dean was a bad guy too.” He grins that bright, sunny grin that never fails to make Castiel's heart melt, “But he’s not a bad guy.”

“Dean, huh?” Gabriel flashes his brother a conniving, dangerous smirk, “Well, this Dean sounds very wise, where’d you say he worked? The Roadhouse? Maybe I should go pay him a visit~”

Castiel grips the edge of the table with white knuckles, “You will do no such thing.”

“Touchy, touchy,” Gabriel saunters back to the counter, where dinner still remains half-prepared, abandoned in the name of meaningless gossip the moment Cas stormed through the front door, “But I’m serious, Cassie-”

“You’re not capable of having serious thoughts.” 

He feels a bit mean for saying that, implying his brother can’t handle matters like an adult when it’s Castiel living in his home for free and currently insulting him like they’re children. But this is Gabriel.

The guy who used to tell him the word ‘gullible’ was written on the ceiling (It wasn’t), who won’t give a straight answer when asked where his endless stream of money comes from, who keeps buying Jack those wretched plastic kazoos like he wants to watch the world burn.

“I resent that.” Gabriel shoots back calmly, now too focused on scraping vegetables into a bowl and balancing a six year old on his shoulders to come up with an equally sharp comeback, “I can be serious, I just choose not to be because you’re such a wet blanket and Jack needs a diverse household to thrive.”

“What’s a wet blanket?” Jack asks, arms folded on top of Gabriel's over-gelled hair.

“Your dad.”

Castiel feels his eye twitch, “Gabe, please.”

“You broke the guy's nose, Cas, at least hear him out.”

Logically he doesn't owe Dean anything, he had been acting on reasonable assumption as a concerned parent, but there was something about the way Dean had reacted. He hadn’t been angered by the assault, but by the fact that he thought Cas wasn’t teaching his child basic safety skills, and he took Castiel's side when Jack wanted to know why he hit Dean… Maybe he hadn't meant any harm.

“I should probably make sure he’s not too gravely injured.” Cas mumbles out, thinking back on the amount of blood that had been dripping from Dean's nose as he’d walked away.

“Yes you should,” Gabriel gives a satisfied nod, like he knows he’s won, “Call it an…. an exercise in conflict resolution, yeah? Show Jack that we can solve things with our words, not our fists.”

“I teach law students, all I do is solve things with words.”

“If you’re saying you never wanted to fistfight a student-”

“Never.” He gasps, offended at the accusation. Maybe some of the other professors, sure, but never a student. With a sigh, he lets himself slump back against his chair, “But… I will meet with Dean later this week if it will get you to drop this topic.”

Gabriel looks more like a kid in a candy store than a grown man at that moment, holding up a pinky finger and chirping out, “Scouts honor, Cassie.”

“Mhm…” Castiel narrows his eyes, “Why’s your other hand behind your back?”

“No clue what you mean and, frankly, I’m appalled by your accusation.”

Jack leans backwards from his perch atop Gabe, peering at the hand Gabriel has hidden behind his back, before letting out a scandalized gasp, “His fingers are crossed!”

His brother's eyes go wide, and suddenly he’s turning on his heel, socked feet sliding down the hall and away from Castiel's furious expression, “I thought you were on my side, Jackie!”

“Sorry Uncle Gabe!”

For a moment there’s silence, Castiel still deciding between giving chase and collapsing into a heap of exhaustion, then there’s a faint shuffling noise and Gabriel sticks his head back around the door frame, him and Jack both staring at him with the same mischievous look.

“And don’t forget to ask if he’s single.” 

_____

<<First│<-Prev│Next ->

[notashadowbutawave]

finally talked my wife into watching 8x06 "confessions" with me and WOW there's quite a lot going on in this breakup scene in buck's apartment (and the infamous glee scene for that matter) that I haven't seen discussed much on this website (though maybe I'm just not finding it?) like this show is always yelling the themes in your face but...

first of all I think it's somewhat intentional that Buck is being written as kind of regressing. So far in the show, he's gotten his confidence in romantic relationships by fulfilling the role with the person that he thinks he should fulfill. with Abby, Buck had just learned about serious adult romantic relationships and how they work and was trying to Be A Partner in a complete speed run. But he learned that no amount of devotion is a substitute for functionality. with Taylor, he was trying to Be A Functional Partner - and he learned that being a partner Has To involve trust, and that trust comes from somewhere else other than just our actions - it has to come from our hearts.

Tommy is the first person he's ever dated where he doesn't know what the next steps are and that's because this isn't something he has a blueprint for - being a Partner and a Functional Partner for somebody who sees right through him and sees exactly what he's trying to do, to make Tommy never leave. Abby was completely clueless (sorry I really dislike Abby) and Taylor didn't realize that an adult man could behave so badly without utter malice in his heart. Both of them kind of make the mistake of being vulnerable to Buck's charms.

Tommy is of course vulnerable to Buck's charms but Buck is more transparently himself with Tommy as well - and what Tommy sees, then, is a person who is deeply insecure and may be trending in the right direction but ultimately still thinks there's a lever he can pull to make Tommy stay and never leave him. He doesn't know that he's not done cooking yet because every new thing he learns about the world or others makes him feel brand fucking new.

So yes, the glee scene:

Josh was absolutely gagged that Tommy was Abby's ex fiance

Buck's first instinct is to see the situation from Abby's side and go into protective mode which is adorably loyal to be fair but also like ; get a grip

I actually love Josh's framing of "you care about this person and if you want a future in a queer relationship you need to learn that we don't all come to this the same way"

Did they need a cultural reference? No. Were they going to self referentially congratulate Ryan Murphy for inflicting it on the world? Yes.

And regarding the breakup itself:

What is wrong with this fandom's sense of humor that I haven't seen a gif of "I'm the himbo" ??? Like yes babe u sure are come here

Buck is really working so hard in this scene to make sure Tommy knows that he's serious. He's like... this freaked me out but I've decided I'm cool with it. She changed my life but not like you !!!

Like bless his heart, Buck thought he was really doing the right thing by telling Tommy about Abby BEFORE ASKING HIM TO MOVE IN WITH HIM. like MY CARDS ARE ON THE TABLE??? SEE??? LOVE ME FOREVER !! it's adorable and it's also cringe as fuck.

I think the real sin of the writing here is making Buck so completely clueless that this is the wrong move. Like he's kind of an idiot (Eddie Diaz's words not mine) but moving in with someone after dating them for six months in your 30s is WILD behavior and I don't think even Evan Buckley would fail to realize that this is a bit much in this moment.

But idk being in love makes one do stupid things? I did all of my messy bitch relationship shit before I turned 30 but I guess it is buck we are talking about

I completely understand why Tommy reacts the way he does in this scene and bless Lou Ferrigno Jr for acting it with such nuance, much more depth than the scene frankly deserves. What a heartbreaker. Like you see him tense up at Buck's request

"I'm not saying let's get married or engaged, even though we would have the right, thanks to the brave people who came before, including you." such an insane thing to say to your boyfriend. Whoever approved this script was trying to take me out like with a gun.

You then see the absolute grief in Tommy's eyes like oh god this kid is killing me. He's so sweet. He's so cute. He doesn't get it. I love him. He doesn't get it.

As an aside, Eddie being stalked in the juice bar by the hot priest was absolutely incredible.

I didn't hate this episode but wow the writing does suck shit, however I fully believe it makes sense for them to break up here and get back together in the future ??? because Buck DOES have some shit to figure out. Like moving in with someone is a lot of fucking intimacy REALLY fast and baby boy sometimes you NEED to pump the brakes a little ESPECIALLY when you think someone might be THE ONE and you just figured out you like guys six months ago.

I get it and yeah the writing is tragic and the inclusion of Abby in general is just unhinged and unnecessary but like I don't hate the broad strokes here. how else does the blorbo learn if not by ritual torture by the writers. Lou is too good to not have back though. My god what a treasure.

end bucktommy endgame truther transmission

[dreamerdeity]

𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐄 ('𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄)

*ೃ𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Il Dottore x Fem. Reader

*ೃ𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.2k

*ೃ𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: Sleep deprived, overworked, a report requested by your Lord Harbinger. Just place it on his desk and leave–or take a nap on his luxurious leather couch before you do. What could go wrong? Well, a lot, apparently.

*ೃ𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: DARK CONTENT!!! Dead dove: do not eat. Somnophilia, non-con like straight up r*pe, subordinate x superior, scary delusional rationalizer-dottore, p in v, fingering (f. receiving), creampie, dottore thinks he's actually a nice guy, dottore is in fact just a creepy guy, dottore acts like a silly (like a psychopath), 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! others, please proceed at your own risk!

*ೃ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: Hi lovelies! I meant to post this yesterday but had some things to take care of so didn't get around to it. This is a request part of @ficsforgaza 's kinktober event. DO NOT READ IF YOU'RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE WARNINGS!! If my shit gets flagged one more time I'm going to kms. anyway, I hope you all enjoy dottore being a literal psychopath. byee :3

KEIRA'S FUNDRAISING EVENT 🍉

You walk through the east wing of the Sumeruan Fatui Research Facility, your eyes heavy and your senses numb from lack of sleep. The only sound that rings through your ears is the faint clicking of your shoes against the rubber flooring. 

The strong scent of antiseptic has always fared excellently in keeping you awake, and you thank the archons for its potent presence in this sterilized hallway as your eyes scan over the various signs plastered on the walls. Il Dottore, Il Dottore, Il Dottore. What turn should you take? What sign bears the arrow to his private laboratory? Frankly, if it were up to you, you would've shoved the responsibility of delivering this report to Lord Dottore onto Mikhael, but he feared the harbinger even more than you did, so here you were, left to take one for the team while sleep deprived, cranky, nervous, and somewhat afraid all at once.

It was a bit of a long walk–marked by frustrated sighs and irritated mutters of disapproval at your own dull sense of direction–to Dottore's personal lab, and you weren't even sure he would be there. He's always been the most eccentric of the harbingers, which is then, relatively, extremely eccentric, and his work hours never conformed to normal people's. You round a corner and turn one last left, before a large fortified iron door faces you ever so imposingly, a towering frame that stands a solid ten feet above you, and you sigh in relief. "Il Dottore" painted in bright white slashes across the door, and you hesitantly stretch your hand out–to knock... or maybe to open the imposing slab of metal. A second passes, and as it turns out, you don't have to choose, because the door slides open automatically, a faint mechanical whirr resounding throughout the premises.

You stride in quickly. A sickeningly sweet scent permeates the air around you, the fragrance wafting off the incense sticks burning at the harbinger's desk. You fleetingly wonder how on earth he could stand the oppressively strong smell, but that doesn't matter right now. Dottore isn't here, you have the report in your hand, tucked neatly into a blue folder (Dottore insisted all papers delivered to him must be so in blue folders only. Not green, not yellow. Blue). All you had to do was set it on your Lord Harbinger's desk and get the hell out of here before he returned. Otherwise, you'll be stuck with intense heart palpitations as he questions you about one thing or the other, or goes on a philosophical rant that you didn't ask to hear while laughing manically as his terrifyingly sharp fangs glint under the white light.  Yup, no way. So, you set the folder onto the pristine oak desk, eyes still heavy and head pounding from your lack of sleep.

A soft breath of relief furls past your lips as soon as the folder hits the desk, and then, you try to turn on your heel and get out of here. Keyword: try, because just as you resign yourself to leaving, your gaze strays to the long, plush, brown leather sofa seated at the corner of the office-meets-laboratory. Fuck, that looks comfortable–no, what in the world were you thinking?! Get out, you mentally scream at yourself. 

Yet, the more logical part of your brain has shut down, and a tired sigh leaves you as you stumble over to the couch. Just a second. You're so, so sleepy. Just a second and then you'll leave, you think, and plop onto the cushions. Your mind is blank, and your limbs feel like they're weighed down by lead. You blink slowly, your body sinks into the soft leather. This sofa must have cost your entire annual salary, what with how comfortable it is. A faint moan bubbles up your throat at the feeling of being engulfed in softness like this, and your eyelids droop. Before you can register, you're slipping away, into the inescapable depths of sleep.

Out like a light. 

It could've been 10 minutes, it could've been an hour, or it could've been all day, but at some point, your name is called, and you're too deep into the recesses of unconsciousness to process it as a word. All it manifests as is a distant voice spinning around your head.

Dottore had trudged into his lab after a rather exhausting day of fieldwork, of examining poisonous flower samples on the outskirts of Avidya Forest with the diligence of the... scientist he was. The deep velvet of his voice uttered your name, and when he received no response, he hummed to himself. He continues to stand over you now, gazing down with the eyes of a predator and the smile of a fox

"Didn't see you there," he mutters to himself more than anything, because, from the looks of it, you're in slumber. His eyes observe the scene before him. The way your chest rises and falls rhythmically, the way your rosy lips are parted just a bit, and the way the moonlight filtering in through the windows catches on the curve of your cheekbones. The inviting sight before him has him licking his lips and adjusting the collar of his coat.

"How lovely..."

The inviting sight, because yes, that's what it was, you were inviting him to indulge, weren't you? Otherwise, you wouldn't be here, asleep on his couch, in his space, blouse unbuttoned once or twice at the top. You know what you're doing, aren't you? He's not the bad guy for just... taking the hint, if you will. His hands twitch at his sides, and his smile widens. You're sleeping, and if you saw the terrifyingly sinister grin on his face right now, you would've thanked the archons for sparing you its sight by letting it stretch upon his lips now that you are asleep, unable to see it.

As though he were debating whether to go about whatever evil he was about to, he crosses his arms over his chest, gaze locked on your form and brow furrowed in thought. He wasn't thinking about the depravity of his potential actions and the psychological harm they may cause you later on. No, no. He didn't have a conscience loud enough for that kind of thought to grace his mind. He was simply thinking about the logical implications. It was... unprofessional–to say the least–to grope your subordinates in their sleep, and should word get out about it, the Second Harbinger will never hear the end of it–especially not from Pantalone. It could jeopardize his relationship with all the investors who fund his research. It could also get him in a pickle with Arlecchino, and he wasn't in the mood to deal with that crazy woman for at least the next century.

But it was dark outside. You were asleep, and he had the whole night to himself. It wasn't his fault, and if you were to awaken, well, it's not like you were going to tell. Oh, he'll make sure of that.

His decision is made, and without a single thread of doubt left in his mind, he crouches by your side, eyes locked on your slumbering face. The smile that stretches along his lips is one reserved for moments like these, for moments when he silently observes the unconscious features of those that fall into his predacious hands. There was always something about unconsciousness that stirred something in him. He was fascinated by the human brain, but he was also fascinated by the unadulterated powerlessness of an unconscious human. It gave him a power trip of sorts, knowing he was the lion and the slumbering were the deer. He chuckles to himself as his eyes fall upon the trail of drool at the corner of your lips, a sound so quiet and smooth that it could have melted butter.

"Don't worry, agent. I'll be... gentle," his words are spoken softly, yet they hold the same venom that his actions always do. They're meant for the both of you. "I won't hurt you."

He won't, will he?

Well, that was for him to know and for you to find out–should you awaken. His gloved hand, gentle but firm, snakes under your head and props it up, and his other hand is busy pushing the buttons of your blouse apart, one by one, until your raven-black bra meets his gaze. He breathes out in a soft exhale, a sound too tranquil for a man of his reputation, and his hand gently tips your face toward him. He meets your face halfway, scanning his sharp eyes over your sleeping features for a moment, his breath warm against your skin, though you can't feel it in your drowse. Slowly, almost like he was deliberately holding himself off, he lets his lips brush against yours, and then he tests the waters some more, giving them a light kiss. You subconsciously shift at the contact, but you're still asleep, and that's enough reassurance for him to go further, letting his teeth graze your lower lip. 

You taste like candy; sweet, soft, and addicting. You're an aphrodisiac, aren't you? He wonders, and his tongue prods at the seam of your lips, begging entrance, but it doesn't take. A soft, almost inaudible growl emanates from him, and the distant feel of his tongue has your breathing stuttering, a whimper bubbling up from your throat, but you don't wake, and that has his pants feeling a lot tighter than they were a few seconds ago.

"tsk," he grumbles against your lips. He's not sure if he wanted you asleep or awake right now. There was a thrill he felt in his veins when he teetered on the edge of danger like this, but there also seemed to be a thrill at the thought of having you awake for this, eyes wide in fear and lust all at once, soft implorations of "please let me go, Lord Dottore" falling from your lips like a mantra.

In the end, though, he'll have his way, and it doesn't matter what your state is. His tongue slips past your parted lips and invades the heat of your mouth, his sharpened canines grazing your tongue. His saliva, mixed with the residue of alcohol he had before heading back, drips down your chin and stains your blouse. If you were awake, you would've found the whole ordeal sloppy and wet, but since you weren't, all it felt like was warmth, and a foreign feeling, as his tongue prodded and probed your mouth. Your brows knit together, and a soft, unconscious moan escapes your lips, one that he greedily swallows. You're not so sure what's going on, still in a drowse that makes you think you're having some sort of insanely realistic wet dream. You hadn't slept in almost two days after all. Archons knew you weren't about to let anything wake you from your much-needed rest. 

Dottore retreats from your lips and pauses for a moment, eyes raking over your form as though his mind was scanning over all the choices of what to do to you next. 

"Ah," he says, like he was hit with a revolutionary idea. It wasn't so revolutionary, because the next thing that happens is the harbinger's hands finding their way to your chest, the cool leather of his gloves brushing against the bare patch of skin he revealed to himself when unbuttoning your blouse down three or four buttons. You shift again, and the movement has his fingers accidentally grazing over your bra-clad nipples. The sudden touch causes your body to arch and a low groan to rumble in the back of your throat. You were sensitive, he notes, and a grin tugs at the corner of his lips. 

But you see, Dottore was getting bored of his self-inflicted abstinence. He did tell himself he had all night earlier, but come to think of it, he actually doesn't. He wants it fast and rough, and he wants it now. So, he lets his hand trail down for a moment, shamelessly shoving it into your pants and letting his fingers play with your pussy over your panties.

"H-hnngh!" You gasp in your sleep, and if you were awake, you'd be able to almost feel the smirk he wears as he continues, a finger pressing insistently at your clit, even if the fabric of your underwear is in the way.

"Oh? Do you like this then, agent?" he asks, and the words are an almost inaudible whisper. The question is rhetorical, after all. He doesn't give a flying fuck if you do like it, and he was talking himself through it more than he was you. 

Your head lolls to the side and a shaky breath leaves you. Your panties are subconsciously growing wet, an automatic bodily reaction to being touched here, and his finger doesn't relent. It's a good thing, however, that the friction of the thin fabric has you writhing, and the stimulation has him impatient, his fingers hastily moving to roughly pull your pants down, then to grip the fabric of your blouse, ripping it apart, buttons popping off the garment and onto the ground with soft clicks. The supple flesh of your torso is now exposed and open, and so are your eyes. It takes you a second to register what's going on. 

You're... lying on the sofa.

What time was it?

What are you doing here, exactly?

"W-what..." the words barely leave you, and suddenly, sleep has left you completely, the feeling of a heavy weight against your body taking its place, and the realization that a man is on top of you.

Your eyes snap open wider, and the first thing you see is Dottore's grinning, almost psychotic-looking eyes boring through you. 

"My Lord?!" you cry, and everything comes rushing back. You went to drop a report to the Lord Harbinger. You fell asleep on the couch in his laboratory.

"What are you doing?!" you demand as assertively as you can in a situation like this, but your voice shakes in fear despite your efforts.

"I could ask you the same question, agent," he hums, and his gloved fingers move to trail over the expanse of your breasts, fondling and groping with not a sliver of shame. "You were asleep when I came in, and so, I assumed, naturally, that you wanted me to do this. Why else would you have been so conveniently sprawled out on my couch, in the privacy of my lab, half-naked and vulnerable?"

"I-I didn't–I wasn't half naked," you try to defend yourself–with such a witless refutation too–but how could you possibly defend yourself? The harbinger was right. You were asleep on the couch in his private lab. Utterly disrespectful. And he caught you. Maybe this was karma–or just your luck. 

"Hush, now," he purrs, and his fingers slither behind your back to the band of your bra. You don't have time to react as the garment is pulled off you in one swift motion, tossed away and onto the floor, and then his hands are back on your tits, kneading the supple flesh, pinching your hardened nipples.

"My Lord–stop it, please," you plead, and you can't help the gasp that escapes you, the action shooting straight between your thighs, which clamp together as best as they can with Dottore straddling your waist with all his weight.

He was a scary man, Il Dottore, and even if he wasn't physically hurting you–for now–the sheer intensity of his gaze was enough to scare the shit out of you. You were utterly, hopelessly, and vulnerably at his mercy, and the worst part is, you have a feeling that not a single person in this whole 8-story facility would stand up for you. Not a single Fatui subordinate would dare.

"Stop? Oh, darling! But we haven't even started," he laughs, like what you just suggested was utterly ridiculous, and a shudder runs down your body.

"You know," he hums, leaning closer and lowering his head to ghost his lips over the shell of your ear, the smell of alcohol strong on his breath. "You can scream–if you'd like. No one would hear." 

You have no time to retort, because Dottore's head dips to the valley of your breasts immediately, then his lips ghost over one of your nipples, swiftly taking the nub in his mouth. A sharp inhale rushes into your lungs, and a whimper threatens to spill from your throat. You're not quite sure if the feeling coursing through you is fear or lust or both, because it makes your stomach churn how good this actually feels. Your eyes are squeezed shut, and Dottore’s teeth graze the sensitive skin around your nipple, sending a jolt of electricity between your legs, then his tongue flicks over the hardening peak.

"Mmh," the moan bubbles up from the very back of your throat. 

"Oh? So... still want me to stop now, agent?" he muses, mockingly, and his free hand is back at your pussy, rubbing slow, teasing circles over the soaked fabric. Your hips buck up, so he takes that as a sign to push the garment aside, a finger sliding between your wet lips.

"No, my Lord," you gasp, and you can't believe the words that come out of your own mouth. Dottore's hand doesn't stop, and his thumb presses down on your clit, and a breathy, whiny moan escapes you.

"See? This isn't so bad, now, is it?" he doesn't give you any warning before his fingers dip into your wet pussy, the intrusion causing you to jerk. Your inner walls flutter around his fingers. His sharp canines dig into his lower lip.

"Aren't you a good little whore. So pretty and obedient for your Lord Harbinger," Dottore purrs, and his thumb begins to move against your clit, while his fingers curl and press insistently at your walls. Your legs tremble, a string of moans falls from your lips, and if anyone told you just an hour ago that the Second Lord Harbinger Il Dottore was going to finger you in his lab, you would've laughed and asked who the fuck would say something like that.

Alas, Dottore wasn't a patient man, so it's no surprise that he doesn't finger you long enough before his hands pull away from you entirely, and he "tsks" impatiently to himself. He has to have you now. He's been so, so nice. Hasn't he? Kind enough to prep you for him instead of plunging himself into you from the get-go. If anything, he thinks he deserves a pat on the back for his thoughtfulness. 

Swiftly, his hands reach under your thighs, and with an alarming amount of ease, he yanks you down and away from the cushion that sprawled beneath your head. Then, he's settling between your legs. A soft whimper is torn from your throat when the cold, metal buckle of his belt grazes the inside of your thigh. You watch, helpless, as his hands make quick work of his pants, unzipping the black uniform, and pushing them down just far enough to pull his cock out. You can't help but gulp at the sight, and the wideness of your eyes makes Dottore laugh out an almost sadistic-sounding string of giggles. 

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he hums, the term of endearment spoken so condescendingly. "You'll take it well. Won't you?"

His words aren't a question. They're a statement. An absolute, undeniable fact. An order. You'll take it well, whether you want to or not, and the knowledge has you almost making a run for the door, but the thought leaves you as fast as it came.

Dottore doesn't wait for a response that won’t come, or a plea for him not to do this, not to force his cock into your tight heat, and you're not quite sure why, but you don't find yourself objecting, or trying to kick him away. Maybe you were curious. Maybe this was a materialization of one of your own depraved fantasies. Or maybe you were just scared he'd kill you if you resisted.if you made a run for the door like you fleetingly thought just now. 

His fingers curl around the base of his thick cock, fist then sliding up and down in a few experimental pumps. The tip presses at your entrance almost desperately, and he's pushing the head into your tightness before you can process. He's a big man. The stretch burns. It has a hiss tearing from the back of your throat, and a pained grimace twisting your features.

"Shh," Dottore murmurs, his other hand reaching up to caress the side of your face almost soothingly, the action a stark contrast to the harshness of his current actions.

"Good, good," he whispers, his voice is sickeningly smooth, as though he were genuinely consoling you.

Then, just like that, his hips snap forward, not giving you time to adjust as the entirety of his cock is engulfed in the warmth of your pussy. You're clamping down around him, and it has him groaning lowly in his throat, his eyes squeezing shut, the grip of his hands that are now on your hips tightening.

"Agent," he sighs, and his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your sides. It'll leave a mark there. A reminder.

You're not quite sure where the burning pain had gone. All that remains is an aching desire, a desperate need, and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. Your hands move, without a conscious command from your brain, and they rest on Dottore's shoulders, holding on tightly. The harbinger smiles down at you with sickening sweetness, no, not sweetness, mockery. Or maybe sweetness. God, you were a mess. Your mind was nothing but a blob of mush at this moment, and Dottore's hands shift to the underside of your knees, pushing your legs up and thrusting his cock even deeper at this new, utterly indecent angle. 

"My Lord!" the moan is punched out of you. His lips meet yours again, his sharp canines scraping over the sensitive flesh. Your hands slide to tangle into his hair, pulling and tugging at the soft blue strands. An almost whiny groan escapes the harbinger's throat at the action. His movements become more desperate. Fast and rough. So fast and rough you're scared you'll be split in two. The plush sofa under the two of you shakes and creaks. 

"So, so good," he whines, face contorted in pleasure, but as though he caught himself in his haze before it spiraled, his lips pull back into a domineering sneer. "Take it," he demands, and the words, combined with the obscene feeling of being filled to the brim, are enough to have your vision going white. You claw at Dottore's shoulders with desperate fervor. 

"L-Lord Harbinger. I think I'm going to–" 

"Do it," he commands with the struggle of a man on the brink of ecstasy, and he folds you even more. If you weren't agile–thanks to your agent training–you're sure you would've actually split into two by now. Back arching off the sofa, a string of incoherent, unintelligible moans escapes your throat. Your pussy clamps down around the thick cock stretching it, and a wave of pleasure courses through you, rendering your muscles numb.

The sight and feeling of you unraveling have Dottore following closely after, his movements becoming erratic and uncoordinated. It's a sight like never seen before; the normally ever so composed man crumbling like this, and then, he's spilling his hot cum into you, a guttural groan reverberating throughout his chest. He fills you to the brim until the warm white liquid leaks out of your aching pussy and stains the leather under you. 

A second passes, then two, then three, then a few seconds more. Dottore lets the head of his cock press against your insides one last time before pulling out. He sits back on his knees and regards you for a moment with an almost frightening calmness, and you open your mouth to try and say something, because why was he looking at you like you were nothing but the scum of the ground he walks on after literally cumming inside of you as some lover would?

"The couch will need some cleaning. I trust you can get that sorted tomorrow, agent?" He says finally with a cock of his head, voice level and calm as he climbs off of you and stands on his feet, tucking himself back into his pants as he nonchalantly hums a tune to himself, like this was just another day of fucking his subordinates in their sleep. And maybe it was; you didn’t know, but right now, you're still paralyzed in your spot, just staring at him, and so he turns to glance at you. "Get dressed. You're dismissed for today."

You can only gape, speechless, watching as Dottore turns his back to you once more and disappears into the microscopy workroom in his lab, a certain energized spring to his step.

What the fuck just happened?

The workroom's door closes behind him with a soft click, and he smiles to himself.

Ah, the thrill.

Now, it was time to get back to his research.

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Meatball

For @jilymicrofics March 2025

This could have done with a bit more editing, but I wanted to get this done for James's birthday!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We always wanted three kids, right from the very beginning,” James tells the man, as he settles back and makes himself comfortable. 

Well, as comfortable as he can, anyway; he’s understandably nervous. Anyone would be, in his situation. 

“Harry, that’s our eldest, came along a little bit sooner than we planned,” he continues, as the man makes some notes on a clipboard. “We’d only been married four months when it happened, barely out of our teens. He’s fifteen now. Fifteen! I can hardly believe it.” He shakes his head, in fond disbelief.

The man, who is wearing a badge on a lanyard that identifies him as Ian Jenkins, hums in response, which James takes as his cue to continue. “It was tough, you know? We were so young, and having a baby was a big adjustment, so we decided to wait a while before we tried again. Lily, that’s my wife, she started taking those Mug… erm… those mug-nificent birth control pills. Said she preferred them to the methods that are popular in… uh… in our community.”

“I see,” says Ian Jenkins. “Now I just need you to—-”

James, now a little flustered after his near-breach of the statue of secrecy on top of his natural apprehension, ignores this and ploughs on with his tale instead. He’s always been a talker, especially when he’s nervous. “It was six years before Daisy came long. She’s the image of her mum, is our Daisy, red hair and green eyes. Gorgeous, her eyes are. Harry got Lily’s eyes too, but otherwise he’s basically my clone. Lucky boy, eh?” he grins.

Ian Jenkins doesn’t respond, merely brandishes his clipboard in James’s direction. “If you wouldn’t mind—

James pays it no attention. “We were a lot better prepared for it, second time round,” he explains. “I think that’s why we didn’t leave it so long next time; there’s only eighteen months between Daisy and Simon. Simon’s the odd one out in the Potter house—blond hair and blue eyes, like Lily’s mum. And her sister, actually, but we don’t like to dwell on that. I honestly thought we were done then—three beautiful kids, exactly what we wanted.” James looks Ian Jenkins in the eye, who seems rather startled.  Now, I know what you’re asking yourself!”

“Actually, I really don’t think that you—”

“What happened?” asks James, very dramatically and entirely rhetorically. “It was when Harry went off to school, you see. Boarding school, the same one Lily and I went to, up in Scotland. It hit us hard, our baby being that grown-up and independent and so far away from us. We thought—well, maybe just one more? Who knows, maybe it was just a moment of madness and we’d have changed our minds, but Lily fell pregnant almost straight away, so that was that. Four kids.”

“And that’s all very interesting, Mr Potter, but—

James chuckles. Honest-to-Merlin chuckles. “Or so we thought, anyway. Turns out, it was actually five! Twins! Can you believe it? That took a bit of getting used to, I can tell you!” He shakes his head at his own naivety. “We thought we knew what we were doing with babies by then, but twins are a whole different set of hoops… erm… yes, very different, anyway. Mia and Elspeth. Lily’s hair, my eyes, absolutely gorgeous but my goodness—they’re three now, but I feel like I’ve aged at least a decade since they were born. I love those girls with every fibre of my being, love all my kids like that, but hand on heart those two are trouble. The idea of them as teenagers is frankly terrifying. I expect they’re my punishment for my own adolescent misbehaviour.”

He grins at Ian Jenkins, who looks back blankly, and James decides that Ian Jenkins would definitely have been a Ravenclaw if he wasn’t a Muggle. “Mr Potter, I really must insist—”

“Anyway, Lily went back on those pills, and we thought that would be fine. And it was; right up until it wasn’t. No idea what went wrong this time. Lily tells me all sorts of things can interfere with them, and the next thing we know, number six is on the way.”

“Mr Potter—”

“Which is amazing, of course, we’re very happy about it. But we thought enough really is enough, and that’s why I’m here really; get it sorted before the littlest Potter arrives in a few months. We’re not getting any younger, are we, and this one really does need to be the last one.”

“Mr Potter—”

“We clearly need something a bit more foolproof, and Lily thought this Mu… uh, this medical procedure would be best. When she explained it to me, I thought she was having me on to begin with, but then she got a pamphlet for me and it’s hard to—”

“MR POTTER!” yells Ian Jenkins, finally at the end of his tether. “I really must insist that if you want to have your vasectomy today, you need to sign the consent form!”

“Yes.” James agrees, taking the clipboard at last. “I can’t say I’m not nervous about the old meatballs, but, yes, I do. On both counts.” He takes a deep breath and scribbles his signature at the bottom of the form and hands it back again. 

Ian Jenkins’s expression softens. “It’s normal to be nervous, Mr Potter. I promise it will be fine. A little tenderness, some bruising and swelling, but it will heal within a few days.”

James nods. “Even if it wasn’t, I reckon Lily’s done more than her bit for team Potter. It’s my turn to step up now.”

Ian Jenkins nods reassuringly. “If you could undress please and lie back, the anaesthetist will be in shortly.”

James does as he’s told. Yes, he’s scared, but he knows this is the right thing. 

He bloody loves his kids. But most of all he bloody loves his wife.

[takenbypeter]

Being Me

Peter Parker x reader

Words: 674

A/N: this one has to do with body image a bit. Reader is insecure and yeah so that’s a warning I guess. This one is more of a self indulgence fic since I really was having a tough time recently but I feel better already I think

You were such a self sabotager and you knew it. But you tried so hard to push past it. And to just be…normal. 

But you always had a way to ruin a good thing. 

Peter and you were attached by the lips while you sat on his bed. This wasn’t too uncommon being that you two were together but a bit uncommon since the relationship was still pretty fresh. Frankly, you were constantly amazed by the fact Peter actually liked you. You didn’t think anyone even had the ability to. But of course, Peter constantly proved you wrong. 

While you were distracted by his careful yet zealous movements, forgetting everything and all around. Your attention was quickly regained once his hand landed on your waist. 

Instinctively you sucked a breath of air as your own hand reached up and pushed his hand to the side of your leg. 

“What was that? What are you doing?” Peter’s voice rang after he separated himself from you and you responded with a shake of your head, “nothing.”

Despite his brain telling him to question some more, his body already was once again connected with yours. 

It took a few seconds to get lost in his lips again and just as you did his hand reached for your waist again. 

You tried to be normal about it, tried to ignore the things that popped into your head. 

But all you could think about was how disgusted he must be as his hands moved around your stomach. 

Unable to get past the thoughts you again push his hands away, causing them to hover as you distance yourself from him. 

“I, uh…I need to use the bathroom.”

You walked a few steps, leaving a confused Peter to stare at the shut door as his hands fell. 

Once inside the bathroom you stood at the sink, your eyes down as you took a breath. Once released you look up at your reflection and instantly turn around not wanting to see yourself. 

You didn’t think it was this bad. You knew you had some body issues but it was just all in your head. Peter didn’t care about that stuff. So why should you?

“Ugh,” you groaned, throwing your head in your hands as you stood there unsure what to do next. 

On the other side Peter waited. He knew you did better after taking a moment to think so he waited and waited. Until the door finally opened and he looked in your direction. 

With an awkward smile on your face you stepped out, “I’m sorry about that. My head is just in a really weird place right now.”

His head shook from side to side as a soft smile decorated his lips, “‘ts alright,” he assured before he pushed himself to the middle of his bed and patted the material. 

After some hesitation you took the few steps and sat on the bed. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked. 

You did. But you didn’t want to drag him into the mess that was your brain. He already had a lot on his plate as Spider-Man. Why would you add to his worries? But you did want to talk. But why bother, you’d be fine in no time.

“It’s just like an appearance thing, but it’s fine. I’m just being a little dramatic, it’s okay.”

His eyebrows pulled together as a concerned expression came over him. He looked at you and asked, “is it really okay?”

You bit your bottom lip and shook your head with tears welling into your eyes but never falling, “I don’t know,” is all you could say. 

“Alright, okay. Come here,” without any hesitation he pulled you to his chest and laid down. 

You stayed like that. Warm, protected, unguarded. His arms wrapped around your body like a comforting blanket. 

You knew you would have to face your emotions someday but for now this was all you needed. 

Even without saying a single word, Peter knew exactly how to make you feel better. 

[buryhny]

One Night Stand ; 11

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; enemies to lovers | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

→ Jungkook x y/n → contains smut, fluff and angst → Chapter eleven ; wc | 5.5 k

primarily on Wattpad

index ⇢ next chapter

Jungkook isn't comfortable in letting you in his personal space but he's got no choice. he wants to make sure everything is safe, and you're safe. he's letting you to his house not his room. so he thinks it's fine. 'I have no clue why he's being so insistent. I didn't ask for any of this,

and frankly, I don't want it,' you think to yourself, your scowl deepening as you stared at Jungkook in disbelief. "There's no way I'm going with you, Jungkook!" It took you a good five minutes to process his words. Jungkook was visibly frustrated. He just wanted to help you, for once hoping you'd stop resisting. "Look, Y/N—" he began, trying to reason with you.

"I'm not looking anywhere, and I'm not going to listen to a word you say," you interrupted, your anger rising. Jungkook sighed deeply, placing a hand on his forehead as he paced around, while you leaned against his car. "Y/N, please," he pleaded softly after a moment, aware that raising his voice would only escalate things.

He knew your temper well enough not to provoke it, especially not here, outside a hospital. You had your own anger issues; you needed space when you were mad, especially from someone like him, but he was right in front of you, a stubborn presence you couldn't ignore.

Taking a deep breath, you surveyed the nearly deserted parking area, the few remaining cars around you creating a small cocoon of privacy. "Speak. You've got five minutes, no more," you finally conceded, meeting his gaze.

Jungkook nodded, clicking his tongue nervously before launching into his explanation. "I understand you don't want to come with me. It's reasonable. But since I've taken this responsibility, I intend to fulfill it diligently. The doctor strongly recommended you be around someone, and since you have no one else, I'm volunteering to help."

He searched your face for any sign of relenting behind your stern expression.

Your glare was unwavering, arms crossed defensively, adding to the pressure he already felt. No, he wasn't scared of you; he just didn't want a scene, not now, not like this. "I'm not forcing you into anything, but logically, it's safer to take precautions and avoid any potential emergencies.

I'm simply asking you to stay at my place tonight until we know the baby's okay. Can you cooperate?" he asked, his tone almost sounding like Mr. Jeon rather than just Jungkook, his words practical and direct.

His argument made sense, whether you liked it or not. You softened slightly, dropping your guard a bit as you listened and understood. "Are you sure about this?" you asked cautiously. He nodded immediately. "Yes, I'm sure," he affirmed, and you nodded back, resigned to the plan. Glancing around, feeling uneasy about what lay ahead, you reluctantly got into the passenger seat of his car.

"This feels so wrong," you whispered to yourself, conflicted but knowing it was the right thing to do for your child's sake. Today had been harrowing, and tonight promised to be sleepless, especially in Jungkook's unfamiliar home.

"I need to grab some clothes," you muttered, relieved he heard you the first time. Louder, you added, "Sure." Without protest, he drove you to your place so you could quickly pack essentials for the night and the next day. The tension between you was thick as you packed.

Normally quiet around each other, tonight the silence felt heavy with unspoken emotions. Jungkook waited patiently in the parking lot, giving you space to collect yourself and your things, reflecting on the unusual turn of events. He couldn't quite believe he was doing this—taking responsibility, stepping up in a way he never had before.

he's always been, but never when it comes to girl matters, he was never with his mother nor his own girlfriends. 15 year old Jungkook wouldn't have been this way, he would've left you all yourself and told you to fuck off with the child. but here he is, mature, understanding, intelligent and moreover a gentleman. which he wasn't ever before.

He's never had a woman stay over before; he's had a few encounters, but they always left immediately. Jungkook never allowed them to stay, saying he wasn't going to take on the burden or deal with their sober selves. So, he feels nervous, jittery even, knowing that it's you—his one-night stand, his former employee, and now the mother of his unborn child. What a mess.

You put on long pajamas; shorts wouldn't be appropriate at his place, so long-sleeved PJs would have to do. Fortunately, your bump was still in its early stages, small and not quite round yet. Toothbrush, undergarments, perfume, makeup, office kit, and a casual kit. "Alright—uh, avocado!

How could I forget you? Wouldn't it be weird if I take you with me?" You looked at the plushie and pouted; cuddling it helps you fall asleep. "I'm taking you. This doesn't make me a kid, don't worry, Y/N."

You zipped up the bag and sat on the edge of your bed, looking at the floor and taking a few minutes to process everything. Does he live with his parents? He can't have a girlfriend, right? It hasn't been long since that club night. What if someone is waiting for him?

What if someone questions you? What are you going to say? Should you just decline his offer and lie that you'll call a friend? No, Dr. Sohee suggested you be with someone; lying to him won't do you any good.

This is about you, not him. 'Just go, spend the night there, Y/N, it's just for one day.' You walked out of your apartment, switching off all the lights and locking the door. What if he left? you thought, but when the elevator doors opened, there he was with a frown on his face.

He's always frowning. "What took you so long?" he questioned. You wanted to mistake his impatience for worry, but then he sighed and bent to take the bag in his hands. "Allow me—"

"No, it's fine. I can help myself." He nodded, rolling his eyes. Fine, he really didn't bother at this point; he just wanted to go back home. It's way past Bam's dinner time, and his poor puppy is surely famished. You both took your seats and drove to his place. You closed your eyes for 15 minutes.

It was quiet, not even the radio was on. Jungkook really is a boring guy, you thought. Not once did you hear him turn on the radio; your dad is a better representative of youth than Jeon Jungkook himself.

He kept his focus on the road until the car stopped, and you opened your eyes to face a beautiful contemporary modern mansion. Well, that was expected. Looking at the doors gave you anxiety; there has to be a whole family inside. Jungkook removed his seatbelt, his eyes meeting yours.

You gave no reaction, making him think maybe you've seen his place before or something. He didn't really mind. You walked behind him as he led you to the entrance.

It was rather suspicious—why was there no doorkeeper? The Jeon Jungkook arriving back home should have 20 service workers, but no. It seems you were wrong because he used his finger to type a code, granting him access to walk inside. "Ah," you whispered to yourself. Fancy.

As you walked inside, you were met with a strange sense of gloom. A sense of loneliness, absence of presence, and a dim lobby. Where the hell are his parents and his entire bloodline? It was quite awkward to stand there and look around. Well, at least the interior of the room had luxurious comfort, sophisticated like the owner of the house himself. "Firstly, what can I get you to drink—"

Jungkook's words were cut off by a pair of loud barks that erupted from the left side of the room. As you both turned to face it, an adorable little Doberman ran towards you. "Bam—" The dog reached your leg, screaming staccato barks with courage and protectiveness towards his owner.

The bravery of the little pup was commendable; it surprised you, considering his height didn't even reach your knee, but he barked like he would eat you alive if he found you to be a danger to his keeper.

"Bammie, she's safe. Come here! She won't hurt me, boy." Never had you heard Jungkook speak to anyone or anything so kindly and softly. You never knew he had that bone in him, but he seemed close to his dog.

In fact, Jungkook was trying his hardest to whisper it only to his dog; he even spoke louder with a manly tone just so you wouldn't hear him speak softly to his pup. The dog growled as he maintained eye contact with you. Huh, this little one's guts.

Bam forced himself to walk to Jungkook as he squatted, calming down a bit under his appa's pats. You had a soft smile on your face that kept getting wider. You've always been a dog lover. You have puppies back at home.

They mean the world to you, although they don't really like talking to you, quite angry that you left them alone with the two oldies. "Sorry about him, I never really have guests," he began to apologize when it wasn't even necessary.

You squatted near the dog. "May I?" you asked the owner for permission before laying a finger on the animal. You know how irritating it is when people randomly touch your pets without your permission. Jungkook nodded. The doggie snarled, trying to intimidate you, but in fact, that only increased your desire to pet him.

You placed your soft palm on his head, caressing his thin, soft ebony fur. He calmed down fully and moved his head along with your palm, wanting you to rub him more. His actions made you giggle. Maybe the puppy love inside you had grown, and you just missed Lana and Dubi even more now.

"There, you're my friend now," you whispered to the boy who circled around your ankles for more affection while Jungkook looked at the two of you with adoration, he'd never seen anyone pet Bam before, it's always him and the caretakers.

His one night stands would always be disrespectful and shoo Bam away. Standing upright, you met Jungkook's eyes, which had softened after witnessing the scene. He held back a smile.

"You're gonna crop his ears, right?" Jungkook's eyes widened as if they would pop out of his sockets. "No, never. What made you think I would do that?" You shrugged and looked at him. "You look like the type who'd have a dog that looks rude and egoistic like his owner and.... most people do that so."

He ignored you and gestured for you to take a seat. "What would you like to drink? Coffee, tea—" "Water is just fine." He nodded, walking to the kitchen, with Bam following his appa. "Five minutes, Bam. Dinner will be ready in five. Go, sit."

Jungkook filled a glass of water himself, which was quite surprising, leaving you to look at him in disbelief. Where are his maids? When he served you the water, you accepted it with a smile before finally voicing your thoughts. "You don't have a staff of your own here?" He tilted his head,

eyes looking around. Somehow, he knew that he would be questioned about this. He's literally the CEO of Jeon Industries; it's a wonder that a wealthy man like him lives alone without stay-at-home workers offering service 24/7. "Why so, Ms. Lee? Does every rich man require helpers? Is that some sort of norm?"

He inquired, dodging your question with a smirk and a raised eyebrow while loosening his tie with his thumb, index, and middle finger. Sighing, you gave him a smile, tilting your head while you gulped down the last few drops of water from the glass that probably cost a fortune,

considering how fancy it looked. "Didn't quite imagine Mr. Jeon lives such a down-to-earth life for all that ego you carry around." That fake, sarcastic smile sat lovely on your face.

He might even— "If you'll excuse me, my dog is waiting for his dinner." "Why sure—" "By the way—" He stopped in his tracks and turned to face you, suddenly remembering that you were together the whole evening. "What about your dinner? What would you like to have?" "I don't have an appetite. Thank you for asking."

"You must eat, fuck. Have you seen yourself? You don't look healthy, and ma'am decides to carry a child." The tone he used—how dare he. What is he, huh? Your boyfriend? He'd love to be, but wait, did he just call you ma'am to mock you? Oh, Jeon, you're in trouble.

"You don't get to decide for the child. What if he or she is hungry, but you're not feeding anything because you've so kindly said you have no appetite. I'm gonna cook a meal." "Excuse me?" You stood from his leather lounge sofa. "What do you mean by the way I look? Did i ask for your opinion?" This made him snigger. You're so hyper.

He guessed it was your pregnancy hormones slowly making changes internally because you got mad at the slightest thing. It was almost laughable. He looked at your eyes and rolled his own, tucking his hands back into his pockets. "You don't look healthy. It's actually very concerning. I'm not joking." He walked away toward the kitchen. You somewhat agreed with his words.

You've noticed the major weight loss, fully aware of the changes within you, and it is a serious matter. You've got to ask Dr. Sohee about this. Jungkook placed Bam's meat into his dog bowl and then patted his head to get him started. Before he prepared anything, he walked to you and spoke, "I'll guide you to the room you'll be staying in.

You can have a shower while I cook—" "While you cook? You can cook?" A blush crept up on Jungkook's cheek. He felt slightly embarrassed to admit it. No one knew about this. God, why couldn't he keep quiet? It's too late and he didn't want to order take out and wait for another hour until it arrives. "You'll see." Biting the inside of his cheek, he grabbed his bag and walked you upstairs.

He pushes open a door to the most serene room you've ever seen. The color palette—neutral shades of white, beige, grey, and a hint of pink—was simply marvelous to look at. What is this place? It's better than anything you've ever seen. "You can occupy this room. The washroom is right there, that door." Nodding at his words, he let you be, closing the doors behind him. You sat on the bed, absorbing the luxurious surroundings.

Isn't this weird? At your CEO's place? There's got to be some motive behind this. God, what is it?! You grabbed your clothes and walked into the shower. Holy shit, it's freaking huge. Your apartment and this—damn, you had one single shower, and here there's a shower for two, a massive bathtub, and what not. Is he insane? Where are the people? Why does he freaking live alone?! 'I'm off, I'm gonna take good advantage of this stay...'

Jungkook's pov

Honestly, I'm not sure what I was thinking when I invited her to stay with me. It's out of character for me, especially since I'm very protective of my personal space. Listening to her argue made me think I might just leave her to deal with things herself.

But then, I found myself explaining why it was important for her to have someone nearby, at least for the night. It's a duty and i've got no choice but to be part of this. as a gentleman. When she agreed, I felt relieved that i didn't have to argue anymore. However, sitting together in silence only heightened my nerves about the situation. Waiting for her to pack was tough too.

She took so long that I started to worry she locked herself in to avoid leaving with me. If she did, I was ready to confront her. Yet, I also felt concerned, checking my watch anxiously. It took her 15 minutes. I've never waited for anyone like that before, let alone brought someone, especially a woman, to stay at my place. But then, I realized it was her. Walking towards the elevator, the doors opened to reveal her, carrying a bag with her few belongings.

She was okay. Thank god was my first thought. How quickly life can change in just a few days. A few months ago, we were at a bar together, passionately involved. Now, here we were in my car, heading to my place to take care of... our child? It feels strange. Don't think of it that way, Jungkook.

Walking into the lobby, as usual, Bam greeted me, but today he was wary of Y/n's presence, forgetting how nervous he gets around strangers. However, when Y/n gently touched his head, all his fear seemed to melt away.

She handled him delicately, and I could see Bam was taken with her touch, just like I was. They looked good together, an unexpected sight. It was surprising to see Bam warm up to a stranger so quickly, but that's just who he is — affectionate. Offering her a glass of water led to questions about helpers and why I live alone, things I knew she would bring up.

Who wouldn't question that? But coming from Ms. Lee Y/n? If that isn't irony, I don't know what is. Arguing with her was like fine wine — the more you engage, the more frustrating it becomes. But seeing her in this state, I didn't want to escalate things, so I let it go. She's upset and has no appetite. Who needs an appetite when you're eating for two?

Does the baby have a choice? No? It already seems like she's not the most responsible mother, so how will she handle it when she's still a kid herself? I don't know her well, but from what I do know, she can be quite immature. Leading her upstairs, it seemed best to have her stay in the room closest to mine, in case of any emergencies, as the doctor suggested she shouldn't be alone, right? Back to cooking dinner, I wasn't sure what to make or what she would like, and I didn't ask. But does it really matter?

Pesto alla genovese it is then. Rolling up my sleeves, donning my brown apron,

I begin by pulling out the ingredients from the drawer and fridge, sipping on my usual green tea upon returning home. Making pesto pasta isn't too challenging—it's my go-to dinner, especially since I skipped my own meal, so a small portion will suffice. In about 20 minutes, dinner is ready. Y/n must be in her room because I hear no sounds from upstairs.

I serve the pasta in a bowl with a fork, placing it on the coffee table. I'm not going to cater to her hand and foot. "Dinner's on the table. Enjoy," I inform her after knocking on her closed door. I wait until I hear her response, which comes as, "Thanks, Mr. Jeon," accompanied by her irritating fake accent. I roll my eyes, grateful she's only here for one night.

Author's pov

You cautiously peek out of the room, but there's no sign of him. You're not very hungry, which has been the case ever since you found out about your pregnancy—quite odd for someone who always thought pregnancy was just an excuse to eat everything in sight. Despite this, Jungkook was right; your stomach is growling, so you force yourself to eat.

You make your way to the coffee table he mentioned in the TV area. There's a bowl with a fork and a glass of orange juice. Sitting down on his velvet beige couch, you pick up the bowl. It looks appetizing and feels warm, freshly prepared. The aroma of it heightened your senses, and you twirl your fork to gather a bite. Damn. The taste surprises you as it hits your tongue. Why does it taste so incredibly good?

Oh, the joys of food. It takes you less than 10 minutes to finish the entire dish, as if you hadn't had a proper meal in ages—which, technically, you haven't. You let out a deep exhale, sinking back into the couch, the lingering taste of pesto on your tongue. "No, why did I eat it so fast?" you whine to yourself, closing your eyes to savor the flavors. "I thought you had no appetite?"

Jungkook's voice startles you as you open your eyes to see him leaning against the wall, hands in the pockets of his silk black pajamas, that smug expression on his face that always irks you. "I had to eat. It would've been disrespectful not to,"

you retort, and he chuckles, approaching you. Peering into the empty bowl, not a leaf or pasta strip remains. "That bowl says otherwise," he teases. Rolling your eyes, you stand up, gathering the empty dishes to wash. "There's more pasta," he informs you, causing you to pause and turn to face him. "S-so?"

Jungkook tilts his head, smiling as he moves closer, taking the bowl in his hand. "Thought you might want seconds? Do you?" You avoid meeting his eyes, nodding with a slight pout, secretly hoping he doesn't notice your gratitude.

"C'mon," he beckons, and you follow him into the kitchen. Oh my god!!! The kitchen is stunning; you've always dreamed of having such a beautiful black kitchen, and his is exactly what you love. You find his entire home amazing. Jungkook retrieves a bowl from the refrigerator, removing the glass cover and warming the cold food in a pan. "There's a microwave right there," you point out. He glances at the microwave and back at you. "I know."

"Then use it." "Electromagnetic waves aren't healthy," he states, prompting a laugh from you as you cover your mouth, amused by his response. "What's so funny?" he asks with a puzzled look. "Why do you even have one then? Just for show?" you joke. "For the fun of it," he replies shortly, and you nod in acknowledgment, pulling out a dining chair as he transfers the pasta to a freshly cleaned bowl.

"Never did I imagine Mr. Jeon would be doing all this for me," you whisper to yourself, hoping he didn't catch your words, but he did. "Never did I either, Ms. Lee, but here we are," he replies, placing the bowl in front of you. You begin to savor the warm capellini pasta while he leans against the counter, cleaning the nonstick pan. Bam circles around his feet, leaving a smile on your face.

The silence makes him uneasy, so he glances at you, noticing your distant expression with concern. You don't want to tell him, but the shower today was difficult—

the sight of spotting of the blood frightened you. And you want to thank this man somehow, but you're unsure how. "Doesn't taste good anymore?" he questions, and you turn to look at him before returning your gaze to the pasta, your appetite suddenly gone. "No, not really. I..."

You hesitate for a moment before smiling. "Thank you for helping me. I-I appreciate it," you manage to say. Jungkook nods and offers a brief smile that quickly fades. He doesn't like smiling in situations like these. "I had to help anyway," he states, making you pause.

Is he forcing himself into this, or does he genuinely want to help? "Had to" doesn't sound very sincere. Letting it go, you continue eating, hunger naturally returning to you. "If you need anything, feel free to shout. My room is right here, okay?" "Sure," you reply, rolling your eyes and heading into the room, locking the door behind you. Jungkook scoffs but follows suit, lying on the bed after switching on the night lamp. He gazes up at the ceiling, his mind racing with thoughts.

He's just a wall away from you. There's nothing wrong with that, but it feels strange. Thinking about who you are... If this isn't weird, then what is? "Damn life," he mutters, turning onto his side to face the window, gazing at the dark sky lit up by city lights and the moon.

He tends to overthink, just like you. You're hugging your plushie, staring out the window too. The bed is comfortable, the atmosphere peaceful with soft lighting, yet your mind is suffocated by the worst scenarios you can imagine regarding your baby.

What if there's no baby? What if the blood meant something serious days ago? What if there's a major complication? What if this is all your fault? What if this was your only chance to be a mom, and it's slipping away... Tears stream down your face once again when you remember hearing the soft heartbeats of your child the other day.

You bury your head in the silk pillow, sobbing loudly, clutching the soft toy tightly to your chest. Both of you had a rough night, struggling to sleep, but eventually, you do because there's simply no other choice...

-

In the morning, both of you prepared for the day ahead. By 7 a.m., Bam's caretaker and the other helpers were already busy in the kitchen, preparing breakfast as Jungkook had instructed them the previous night to make enough for two. You both walk down the stairs together, Jungkook insisting that you eat breakfast before leaving the house. You sat at the dining table, a plate in front of you.

Maya, the cook, was visibly surprised to see you up and about at this early hour, something she hadn't witnessed in her three years working for Jungkook. She silently speculated about the reason behind this change. Petting Bam affectionately, you chuckled as he playfully circled around you. "I'll come visit you one day, alright?"

Jungkook glanced at both of you and cleared his throat, breaking the moment. "Shall we get going?" You nodded, bidding Bam farewell with a wave before taking the passenger seat in Jungkook's car as he drove you to the hospital. Despite his calm exterior, Jungkook felt the tension building inside him, mirroring your own nervousness. Though he had no personal connection to you or the child, he sensed an unexplainable concern.

The wait for the nurse to call you in was terrifying. Jungkook observed your nervous habits, like knuckle-breaking and lip-biting, as you tried to release your stress. "Ms. Lee Yn?" "Yes." "Come in." Inside, Jungkook checked with you if you preferred privacy or if he could stay. You didn't mind his presence, so he remained by your side.

"Morning, Yn, please take a seat," Dr. Sohee said, glancing at Jungkook with a raised eyebrow. "So, Y/n, how were you last night? Okay, or?" "I was fine. I just had a tough time overthinking," you replied, stealing a glance at Jungkook, who did the same. "So, which was why you had to be with someone? Panicking would've made things worse. Alright,"

Dr. Sohee straightened her back and placed her elbows on the table, adjusting her glasses. "We need to do a pelvic test and a scan, so if you would join me?" You stood from the chair and followed her to the examination area, while Jungkook's eyes remained fixed on the white curtain that conceal his view of you.

The doctor conducted the scan first to check the placenta for any signs of separation or miscarriage. Her eyebrows furrowed as she scrutinized the monitor and moved the ultrasound probe over your abdomen.

You couldn't interpret the black and white images, but the doctor's serious expression made you anxious. "What's wrong, Doctor?" She sighed and wiped off the gel from your abdomen, proceeding to the pelvic test to check for ovarian cysts or infections. She remained silent, heightening your anxiety with each passing moment. "I'll explain," she finally said.

You both returned to your seats, and Jungkook watched your face intently for any signs of distress, finding none. Dr. Sohee removed her glasses and placed them on the table before speaking. "Firstly... best wishes to you; the baby is completely fine."

You let out the biggest exhale of your life, tears welling up in your eyes. You covered your face with your hands, taking a moment to absorb the news you had longed to hear for days, feeling like you had waited years for this moment. Jungkook exhaled too, nodding his head and offering a brief smile.

"Happy for you, really happy." You nodded in agreement, wiping away the tears that had stained your silk top. So hee smiled sympathetically at both you and Jungkook, retrieving a pen to jot down some notes. "Here's my analysis: due to your hormonal imbalance,

drugs and the challenges it presents, your body is adjusting slowly to pregnancy. This imbalance may have weakened you physically, contributing to the stress-induced bleeding. Stress increases these issues, so it's crucial to rest, eat well, and manage your weight loss. You must eat three meals daily, stay hydrated, and avoid stress at all costs. Understood?"

You nodded again, taking in her words as Jungkook accepted the prescription she handed over. You thanked her sincerely, and she responded with a gentle chuckle, which you echoed in relief.

"I don't encourage frequent scans during pregnancy due to the waves that are not very healthy for the unborn baby so i'll meet you for your 5 and 6 month scan then." "of course, Dr. Thank you very much." 'always welcome." Exiting the room, Jungkook suggested you wait in the car while he fetched the medications. Leaning back in your seat, you took deep breaths, gently caressing your growing bump. "Didn't I tell you that you'll be fine? See, you're absolutely okay, baby,"

you whispered reassuringly to the little life inside you, finding comfort in speaking to your unborn child. Jungkook returned with the vitamins after about five minutes, clicking his tongue before speaking. "You don't have to work. Let's get you home—"

"What? No, I will work. You can't stop me," you interjected firmly. 'Here we go again', Jungkook thought, leaning back and closing his eyes. "You were advised to rest, not work." "But how could I just not work? I can't stay at home doing nothing." "I'll take care of your expenses," Jungkook offered, to which you gaped in surprise, questioning his sincerity. "I can pay for them myself, Jungkook. This is—insane. I need to work. You can't just say that—"

Turning fully to face him, you expressed your frustration, pointing accusingly at him while he listened quietly, avoiding confrontation. "I've made my final decision. Either you work from home or not." "Jungkook, I'm fine. I can't stay in my apartment for months. Working at the office gives me peace—" "How are you going to hide the bump? Ever thought about that?" he interrupted, both of you glancing down at your growing belly. Frustration rushed through him, evident in the tension of his neck and the reddening of his ears.

"Now's the time for major changes. You can't be stressing out too—" "What? Afraid that your reputation would be tarnished because of this?" you retorted sharply, catching him off guard. He stared at you, taken aback by your accusation. Lately, he hadn't even considered his reputation, especially while assisting you these past few days. If reputation had mattered, he wouldn't have helped you at all. "Y/n?" His eyes started to redden with anger.

Realizing he needed to calm down before losing control, he forcefully hit his arm against the steering wheel, causing you to flinch. He hated assumptions and false allegations, not driven by his name or reputation at this point but genuinely caring—couldn't you see that? "For heaven's sake, I'm just concerned and helping you out," he insisted, but you responded with a sly smile. "I don't believe what I see most of the time—"

"I'm not doing you a favor, Y/n. I'm genuinely helping you, so let me!" he spoke loudly, unbuttoning his coat and a few shirt buttons, his anger constricting his chest. Knowing exactly how to provoke him, you crossed your arms defiantly. "Fine then!" "I'm taking you to my place!" he declared suddenly, his words catching you off guard. "What?!" You looked at him, stunned.

"Did you not hear the doctor? I'm sure you did." he thought a bit to himself and sighed, decided to ask you calmly. if you say no then it's a no, he won't force you for more. "Do you want to be at my place?" Jungkook asked, making eye contact. Despite his flaring anger, his eyes conveyed genuine concern and a promise to care for you.

After a long moment of silent understanding, you nodded, signaling your acceptance of his offer. It was an unusual situation, filled with unspoken words between you both. He had no obligation to help you, yet he did. Perhaps it was a spark of something in him, driving his actions, even though he seemed conflicted. As you both locked eyes, it was clear, he had as much chaos in his mind as you did, if not more.

"Are you sure about this? I'm not forcing you. I could drop you at your place and—""I'm sure." And with that decision made, neither of you could predict how dramatically things would unfold from here.

next chapter ⇢

[creepswrites]

DIRT ROADS | Lester x Reader

rereading some of my old writing renewed my love for writing this scruffy man <3 this is also slightly self indulgent oops

LESTER SINCLAIR X GN!READER

SUMMARY: The coat he wore was rough and the necklace he wore dug slightly into your skin. But he felt warm and alive and you felt his laugh more then you actually heard it. It felt strangely magical and the mere thought of that baffled you. What about this situation was remotely magical?

The sound of the sputtering of your car engine made you groan, your forehead bumping against the steering wheel in quite frustration. Overhead, raindrops pattered harshly against the top of your car like small marbles and you heard the way your wheels dug into the muddy roads. This was not the place you wanted to get stuck in.

"I told you we'd get stuck out here!" Your friend Sadie huffed in exasperation, throwing her hands up in defeat. "If we had just turned back and asked for directions," She trailed off, shooting a pointed glare at the two guys in the backseat, "We wouldn't be in this mess!"

Robbie - Sadie's long-term boyfriend, though you weren't exactly sure why, seeing as they argued more often then not - just scoffed at his girlfriend's frustrations. "Look, let's just get out of the car and fuckin' push, alright?"

"Can't," You sighed as you lifted your head up. "The front wheels are trapped in the mud. Pushin' will just get us more stuck."

"Well what the fuck else are we supposed to do?" Robbie shouted before swinging the door open and stomping out into the pouring rain, uncaring of how his hair and clothes quickly became soaked.

When he did, his friend who sat beside him - Leon, you think was his name - quickly shuffled out to join him. Leon was nicer than Robbie but was a bit of a pushover. This camping trip the four of you planned was mostly Sadie's attempts to pair you up with Leon despite both of your resistances on the matter.

"Honestly," Sadie sighed, "That guy just can't take no for an answer."

You hummed, disinterested in her latest "Robbie Rant" as you'd taken to calling them. "I still think this whole camping thing is a bad idea. Even if we'll be in a cabin." You weren't exactly enthusiastic at the idea of listening to Sadie argue with her boyfriend for a long weekend while you sat awkwardly next to Leon.

"Don't be such a downer," Sadie said as she poked your cheek with a pointy, baby blue nail. "The rain'll pass, babe. It always does."

When you heard the sound of your car door open, a blast of cold air hitting your body, you turned your head and were met with a worried look on Robbie's face. "Hey, uh, there's... some dude over here." He gestured with a thumb, arms crossed over his chest to try and protect himself from the chilled rain. "He's, uh, offerin' to tow us to the nearest town."

You perked your head up. "Oh! Sure, okay, yeah." Frankly you were just relieved the four of you weren't going to have to camp out in the car or, god forbid, walk through the rain and dark foresty area in hopes of finding civilization.

"Yeah, I wouldn't get too excited." Robbie mumbled as you poked your head out to look behind your car. "Dude's kinda weird."

A scrawny looking man stood slumped against a silver truck chatting to Leon, seemingly unbothered by the rain. When he caught your eye, he tilted his green cap in greeting and gave you a wide gap toothed smile as he made his way towards you. Outwardly, you didn't see anything wrong with him. Maybe a little scruffy but nothing outwardly strange. "Hey there," He said with such a heavy southern drawl it made your eyes feel droopy, "Saw y'all got stuck. I might be able 't tow ya back to town. It ain't far, but you folks'll probably wanna ride with me. 'Case stuff gets too bumpy."

You considered his offer for a moment. The idea of shelter was too tempting to ignore, however... "That's awfully kind of you," You said slowly, watching his smile soften into something more genuine, "What's the catch?"

"Ain't no catch, honest." He said as he slid his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. Robbie gave him a weird look but you ignored it, keeping your focus on the stranger. "Jus' happened to be in the neighborhood on my way back home. Saw y'all broke down 'n figured I'd lend a hand."

Your shoulders dropped slightly. As in most situations, you had to trust your gut. And your gut said that you could trust him. So you held out your hand to shake his, introducing yourself. "How close is this town?"

"Jus' a few miles back down this road here 'n a few left turns." The stranger offered a hand to help you out of your car and you flinched at the sight of thick mud below you. "'m Lester, by the way. Lester Sinclair." He said, noticing your apprehension at the dirt. "Ain't one for mud?" He gave a light laugh.

"Not if I can help it," You sighed. It wouldn't normally bother you but you hadn't worn shoes you could afford to get dirty. The storm had caught you all by surprise.

Before you could step out, Lester gave you a nudge. "Here, put'cher arms 'round me."

You flushed and stared at him with wide, confused eyes. He just gave you a grin as he hooked your knees in the crook of his elbow. "I- You don't have to- I can-" You stammered out nervously. Sure, you didn't really want to get your shoes dirty, but Lester didn't have to carry you!

"Up we go!" Lester said with a dramatic flair, causing you to shriek in terror as you were lifted out up of your seat. You clung to him tight to avoid falling into the mud and he gave you a little spin, making you bury your face into his shoulder as you begged him not to drop you.

The coat he wore was rough and the necklace he wore dug slightly into your skin. But he felt warm and alive and you felt his laugh more then you actually heard it. It felt strangely magical and the mere thought of that baffled you. What about this situation was remotely magical?

"Hey, put 'em the fuck down!" Robbie said. You'd honestly forgot he was there for a moment. But he stepped towards you two like he intended to yank you from the other man's arms like a toddler wanting its toy back.

Lester shot him a look before glancing down at you, as though silently asking if Robbie was bothering you. Like Lester himself wasn't the stranger in the situation. "Alrighty then. Why don't you grab the girl so we can get on outta here?" He said before carrying you back towards his truck without looking back.

When you saw the truck, you understood why Robbie and Leon looked so anxious about going inside. You could see what looked to be small animal bones dangling like strings of beads woven together with feathers and rough strings. They all looked very homemade but pretty in their own way. At least to you they were.

What really caught your attention was the deer skull sitting on the dashboard as the pride of place. "You hunt?" You asked Lester as he walked around to the passenger side door.

He noticed you eyeing the deer skull and shrugged. "That depends."

"Depends?"

"Well I gotta impress you, don't I? Ain't every day I get to carry some pretty thing to my truck. Can't letcha think 'm a bad guy if I do hunt." He said casually before gesturing to the door handle. "Can you grab that?"

You opened the door and let him set you on the seat, his words not quite registering as you focused on the skull, fingers grazing it but not quite touching. "I think it's cool," You said with a quiet awe. "I like taxidermy, so bones don't put me off."

Lester seemed surprised by that. You could hear the sounds of Robbie and Sadie arguing again - likely because he wasn't offering to carry her like Lester had done for you - but you hardly cared with him looking at you like that. Like he was swooning.

"So y'ain't gonna be bothered by the roadkill I got in the back?" He asked, leaning against the car door as you admired the bones hung around the interior.

"Nope. Not even a little. Do you make these yourself?" You asked, fingers dancing lightly down a particularly pretty string of feathers and bones.

Lester swallowed and nodded, a little breathless when he spoke. "Yeah. Yeah. Make 'em myself, yeah." He sounded a little nervous, trying to hide his excitement at your genuine interest. "I'm, uh, I'm gonna get yer car set up for towin' 'n whatnot. You alright if I borrow your boyfriend?"

"I don't have a boyfriend." You shrugged before focusing back on him. "Much less Robbie. He's kind of a douchebag."

"You don't have a boyfriend?" Lester looked genuinely shocked.

You laughed a little. "You sound like my parents." Your tone was light, teasing, and a sharp contrast to the sudden hurricane that was Sadie climbing into the backseat of the truck, arguing loudly with Robbie. As suspected, he had not want to carry her and she had to walk.

You and Lester shared an exhausted look before he stepped away to get the cables to tow your car. Meanwhile, you tucked into the front seat, admiring every knickknack and oddity you could see. It felt almost cozy. Lester likely spent a lot of time in here to warrant such a comfortable, familiar space. He'd mentioned roadkill in the back of the truck so you figured he drove around for long hours picking it up.

He was utterly fascinating. You'd never met anyone like him.

"Dude, this guy is a freak," Sadie whisper-yelled to be heard over the rain as she slammed her door. You left the your own door open to enjoy the cool air a bit longer after being stuck in a stuffy car for the past four hours. "His car's full of dead things!" She hissed at you.

"Doesn't bother me." You said absently, far too focused on the skull again. It was in beautiful condition, clearly well taken care of. If Lester did really hunt, you hoped it was humane. But you reassured yourself that he didn't seem like someone who hated animals.

Sadie scoffed as she slumped in the backseat. The anger from her argument with Robbie was starting to leak into your conversation with her and it pissed you off. But you held your tongue, knowing better than to push her. "Yeah, I'm sure you don't mind your new weirdo boyfriend and his freaky shit." She laughed with a mocking tone. "Must be nice to meet some random fucking guy on the side of the road and he's soooo perfect and thoughtful and carries you to his car. Definitely matches your freak."

You ignored her.

It didn't take long for the guys to finish attaching your car to the truck and everyone piled in the truck, Lester closing his door with a dramatic flair and giving you a smile. "Alrighty, lets head on back. Town's just a couple minutes away." He said, making sure to take wide turns to avoid scratching up the car too much.

"Is there a hotel in town there?" Sadie asked, fidgeting with a strand of her wet hair.

"Yeah, should be. The inn ain't get much business this far out here so there oughta be rooms." Lester said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "Where ya folks headed?"

When the three in the back said nothing, you spoke up after an awkward beat of silence. Just because your friends didn't like the dead things didn't mean Lester was a bad guy. "Headin' towards Arkansas. We've got a little cabin there that we want to stay at for a few days."

"Special occasion?" Lester asked curiously.

"Just a double date weekend." Sadie chimed in, smirking a bit in Leon and Robbie's direction. "We've been meaning to take a break together.

You flinched at the implication you were dating Leon. Lester seemed to notice that and gave you a reassuring smile. "Sounds fun." He said aloud, though you could see the way his hands gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter. "Robbie, was it?"

"Yeah?"

"How long've you been dating 'em?" He tilted his head towards you, smiling at Robbie in the rearview mirror. "Hope I didn't give ya the wrong impression when I carried 'em over. I know you got defensive 'bout it 'n all."

The backseat erupted into absolute chaos. You turned to level Lester with an unimpressed look and the man had the audacity to give you an innocent little smile.

Jerk. You snorted, rolled your eyes, and turned your head to look out the window, watching the raindrops fall on the slightly fogged glass and the brush of the forest passing by in blurs of murky greens and browns.

Ambrose wasn't far, true to Lester's word. The town was small, only a few dozen houses and no major chain stores, much to Sadie's disappointment. Just little mom and pop type places. Lester towed your car to the nearby gas station outside the auto shop and you became suddenly aware of how empty the town felt. No one was outside but you didn't think it was because of the rain.

Your friends got out of the truck, eager to get away from the bones and the smell of rot, but you stayed in with Lester for a minute. "Where is everyone?"

"Hm?" Lester asked, looking innocently curious. "Whaddya mean?"

When he didn't say anything else, you just sighed. "Nevermind," you mumbled as you reached for the door.

"Wait." He said, his voice low. You turned to look at him and he seemed... guilty? He chewed nervously on his bottom lip before making a gesture to the glove box. "Open it."

So you did. Laying atop some piles of paper was a simple, silver pocketknife. "What the-?"

"In case." Lester said, pulling it out and handing it to you expectantly.

"In case of what?" You frowned as alarm bells began to ring in your head. "What do you mean?

Lester's eyes darted quickly over your shoulder before he looked back at you. You didn't get the chance to look over your shoulder when he reached up, cupping your face with one hand to keep your eyes on him. "I ain't- I ain't s'pposed to do this. Y'can't tell anyone."

"Tell anyone what?" Your fear must have been obvious at this point, seeing as Lester flinched.

"Look," he sighed, taking your hand and squeezing it in his own. "I can't- I wanna tell ya, believe me. But I ain't s'pposed to 'n it kills me." He looked genuinely sorry for whatever it was he was doing, which only scared you more. "But if ya take it, you'll be-"

A loud knock on the window made you scream, scooting away from the door with a look of terror, not even care that you practically slammed into Lester's chest as you threw yourself across the center console. Staring at you from the window was a man dressed in a mechanic jumpsuit with a baseball cap on. He opened the door without prompting and gave you a smile that made you feel greasy just looking at him. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." The stranger said with a warm tone. "'m name's Bo. I work at the autoshop here."

You introduced yourself cautiously, glancing out the windshield and noticing the way Sadie practically swooned over Bo while Robbie and Leon looked ready to punch the daylights out of this guy.

You didn't trust him. Not one bit.

"Pretty sure that's my brother you're sittin' on." Bo said with another acidic smile.

"Oh." You said, still pressed against Lester's side with no real interest in moving. The pocketknife was still clenched tightly in your fist and you still didn't feel safe.

Lester just laughed. "Aw, it ain't no problem Bo. We were chattin' 'bout their car actually. Might need ya to check it out, just in case."

Bo hazarded a glance at your car. "Yeah, alright, I'll take a look. Wanna come with me?" He asked, offering you his hand.

Everything in your body screamed at you to stay away from this guy.

"Actually Bo," Lester spoke up, your saving grace, "I was plannin' on chattin' 'bout taxidermy with 'em. If ya don't mind."

Bo did, in fact, seem to mind. His perfect facade seemed to flicker, an annoyed look passing his over his face as quick as it came. "Lester, ain't it a better idea for them to be here with their car?"

"I trust you!" You nearly yelled, grabbing your car keys and stuffing them into Bo's extended hand. "You seem like you know what you're doing! Any questions and you can ask Robbie, he's better with cars than me anyways."

You felt Lester relax when Bo just sighed loudly. "Alright, if you insist," He clutched the keys in his fist and the look he gave you made chills run down your spine. "Enjoy your date, lil' bro."

"Thanks man!" Lester said as Bo slammed the door shut, rattling the whole car. "You alright?" He asked softly once his older brother had stormed off in the direction of your friends.

You scooted back slightly to give him some space, sliding back into your actual seat. "I know he's your brother but... he's so..."

He laughed. "Aggressive? Yeah, he can be. Ain't his fault but it does make bringin' people here tricky." Lester said before gesturing out the window towards your friends, watching Sadie hang off Bo's every word. "Seems to work on your friends jus' fine."

"Not me." You hummed, watching the four of them go inside the auto shop. "I usually have a good read on people. And he's, uh, not good."

"Is that so?" Lester said softly. "Well, y'sure as hell got a good radar then. Figured him out real quick."

You gave Lester a glance, noting the somber look on his face. "What do you mean by it being safer to bring the knife?"

The man chewed on his bottom lip, seeming to mull his options over in his head. "I can't tell ya," He said slowly, "Because then I'd have to kill ya." When you laughed nervously, he just gave you a serious look. "'m serious. I ain't s'pposed to tell strangers what's goin' on."

Cold dread seemed to drench you instantly. "What?" You whispered in horror.

"I can tell ya if you promise not to do anythin' though." He soothed, taking your hand in his. He kept glancing over your shoulder as though expecting Bo to reappear at any moment. "If ya wanna know, you can't get involved."

"Just tell me!" You pleaded, the pocketknife still tight in your fist.

Lester sighed, letting go of your hand and staring out the window, letting the muffled sounds of rain pass through you two as though trying to literally clean the air. When he looked up at you, his eyes once again darting over your shoulder. He let out a soft gasp of surprise and fumbled to turn his car back on, letting it spur to life as you turned to look.

Robbie stumbled out of the auto shop, covered in blood and screaming. He was beelining for you, his screams drowned out by the car engine and the storm. You went to unlock the door but you watched the locks engage. Robbie yanked on the door handle frantically, screaming something about Bo having killed Leon.

But you didn't even have time to react as Lester threw the car in reverse and took off, leaving you horrified and confused. You rounded on him immediately. "We need to help!"

"I can't get involved!" Lester said, looking as panicky as you. "I- I ain't a fan of what they do either but I-" He stammered, torn between focusing on the road and trying to placate you.

"Did Bo kill Leon?!" You gasped in horror.

Lester gave you a helpless look. "I- Maybe? I- I dunno, he's killed a lotta people at this point." He squinted, trying to navigate the rain that began to streak across the windshield with how fast he was driving, obscuring a lot of the vision outside. "He 'n Vinny've been doin' this for ages now!"

"Doing- Doing what?!" You felt frantic, yanking on the car door with no real luck. What would you even do if it opened? Where could you go?

"Killin' people!" Lester said, slamming his hands on the steering wheel in frustration. "They've been killin' people and I don't get involved. 'n if you value your life, you shouldn't either."

He slammed hard on the breaks just before the front of the car slammed into a tree. The two of you let out a shared sigh and slumped over.

"'m sorry sweetpea." Lester said quietly, leaning against his steering wheel as exhaustion seemed to set in. "Was followin' y'all. 's how I found ya. Was gonna ship ya off to Bo 'n Vince but you were so..." He lifted his head to look at you with soft, glassy eyes. "'m so sorry."

You trembled, still breathing heavy. "Are you going to hurt me?"

"No." Lester's answer was immediate. "I ain't a killer. Not like my brothers are." He looked like he wanted to reach for you again, remorse clear on his face. "'m really sorry. Honest. I-"

"Are my friends going to die?" You asked, your voice warbling slightly. "Did- Did you just drive away from my dying friends?" He turned his head to look at you and gave you a slow nod. You let out a quiet gasp, scooting away from him until your back was up against the door. "Let me out! I need to go help them!"

Lester shook his head helplessly. "I can't. Bo's already seen ya 'n if you go after him, he'll kill ya too."

"Then why give me a knife?!"

"I just-" Lester sighed. "I just didn't want you to go down easy. Ain't no one ever escape my brothers. They're brutal 'n dedicated. I... I didn't want you to get hurt."

A lapse of silence passed between you two, the only sound coming from the rain. Lester buried his face back into his arms while you tried to come to terms with what you'd learnt. Lester's brothers abducted and killed people. And Lester had just served your friends up to Bo on a silver platter, but not you.

You had a knife, still clenched in your fist, and you could probably get the jump on Lester if you had to. You could steal his car and go rescue them or, at the very least, escape.

But you didn't want to hurt Lester...

"Why didn't you let me go with them?" You finally asked with a resigned sigh.

Lester looked up with tired, sad eyes. "Didn't want em to have ya. 'Cus you're a good, kind person 'n you trusted me. Felt like I was betraying ya. So I saw an openin' and I took it."

You nodded slowly. "So what now?"

"Well, ya got a few choices actually." Lester said as he straightened up. "You could go back. Try your luck against my brothers, try 'n save your friends. Or," He said with a shy glance your way, "You could come with me."

"Where would we go?"

Lester motioned out the windshield. "I got a lil' house in the woods nearby. We could hold down till the storm passes." Big brown eyes focused on you as he nervously wrung his hands. "I'd, uh, have to introduce you to my brothers in the morning. But I'd protect ya. Let 'em know you're with me now."

You felt your face heat up and you hated yourself for it. Your friends were being killed and the guy who led them to their deaths was making you blush like a schoolchild with a crush. You couldn't help it though. Lester was sweet, in the short time you'd met him. He didn't want to see you hurt and did what he could to protect you.

"With you?" You teased him with a wet chuckle. And your smile grew when you saw the way the tips of Lester's ears burned with how hard he blushed.

He gave you a shy nod. "Y-yeah. If you're with me, then- then they won't bother ya. Not killable anymore." You reached over and took his hands gently, uncaring of the dirt and roughness there. "You couldn't leave though."

A sigh left your lips. "I either stay or die?"

Lester looked close to tears when he nodded. "'m really sorry, sweetpea, I really am. Should'a never gone after ya." He freed one of his hands to cup your face gently, his touch soft despite the roughness of his hands and the guilt in his eyes.

You two sat there for awhile before you nodded, swallowing back a sob of your own. "Okay," You sighed, "Okay, I'll go with you."

He gave you a look of utter relief, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'll keep ya safe, sweetpea. I promise."

When you pulled him in for a hug, your face buried in his shoulder, you let your shoulders relax. And you let yourself believe him.

[mischiefmaker615]

Use Me (Loki Love Story) Ch.4

Summary: Loki shows up at your brothel with an offer. What could go wrong?

Requested song inspiration: Use Me by Johnny Blue Skies & Dove Cameron & Diplo

Your stubbornness remained and you came out with a towel wrapped around you. He had left you to finish up your routine- yet with the anxiety of him popping in at any moment. He never did, so you felt like you rushed for nothing.

You weren’t sure why you were making all of this difficult. Men have done things to you before- mostly for their own gain. Perhaps its more personal because it was Loki- and the fact that you’d see him the next day unlike the other clients. It was easier to do things with the assurance they were gone.. but now you belonged to your client; the very client that sat in his lounge chair with a book in his hand and a towel around his waist.

‘’..will I be provided with a nightgown?” you asked quietly, feeling the tips of your hair dripping still with left over water while you tried not to shiver.

‘’I told you your clothes have been removed, what do you think?” he asked, not even bothering to look up from his book while he spoke with his casual tone.

You weren’t sure why you even tried, frankly you should have seen that coming. Looking around, you were unsure of what to do at this point and you were pretty sure Loki was ignoring you to drag on your uncomfortableness. Nevertheless, he ended up snapping his book shut, making you jump a bit where he then set it aside to lean on his forearms against his knees, looking at you hungrily as if it were the first time- and that he hadn’t just seen you naked moments ago.

‘’you’ll catch a cold if you remain in a wet towel, and I do not wish to have my sheets soaked.. not that way, anyway.’’

Your cheeks heated while you clutched the towel closer to yourself, daring to glance at the bed and you could have sworn it wasn’t that small a second ago. ‘’..I’ll be sharing your bed?-‘’

‘’were you under the impression you’ll be taking the study couch?” he chuckled and you honestly debated on it. If you were in his bed with you, you knew what that meant.. but that was the deal wasn’t it..

‘’wherever you’ll have me serve you my prince..’’ you said carefully. The faster and frequent stuff like this was done, the sooner you could leave.

This seemed to please Loki, earning a smirk on his lips while he stood up- the towel hanging on his hips with a prayer while he slowly made his way over to you. His height made itself perfectly known with the way your eyes had to rise while he neared, and you didn’t dare step away while you concentrated on breathing. Once he stood before you, his hands clasped behind his back and looked you over, your eyes so wanting to look over his toned chest and stomach while they kept on his gaze.

‘’you will need to figure out a solution for yourself darling. I am quite forgiving but angered quite fast. Follow the rules, and we will get along just fine.’’ He smirked and placed a hand below your chin, his thumb gently tracing your bottom lip while you shivered. ‘’I expect a result when I return.’’ He then moved past you, his side brushing up against yours harshly that made you catch your footing while the towel almost fell off around you.

You caught yourself before you could glare in his direction, watching him disappear into the bathroom while you wrapped the towel firmly around you. Little shit.. you hated thinking that of your prince- you’ve never thought ill will against him.. but you never imagined him to be.. this kind of cruel.

You supposed it could be worse.. mind torture may be better than getting beaten.. maybe not? You just didn’t understand why he just didn’t fuck you, pay and repeat. That routine sounded a far lot simple than.. whatever he was doing here. Was teasing you some sort of foreplay?

To your utmost surprise, you found yourself wet regardless and hated yourself. His eyes.. the way they seemed to study your every movement. His skin was so smooth and flawless, how you wished you could run your hands everywhere.. his voice- gods how you wished he could talk behind you.. his cock- that’s the one thing that had you shivering and your heart racing at the same time. It will be by far your largest, but.. you were sure you could take it.. somehow..

Right now you needed to figure out a solution to not break the rules by wearing any sort of clothing, or get his bed wet. The towel was already semi soaked from when you dried most of yourself- your hair will for sure cover the last inches of the dry parts of the towel.

The fireplace.. that should speed things along-

You quickly moved over to where it cracked and knelt down, rubbing your hands in its warmth first before you glanced over your shoulder. Loki was finishing his bath he didn’t finish.. you almost felt guilty.. almost.. he may be awhile, so you quickly drew a bath and unwrapped yourself. The thick carpet was warm and soft from where you sat, adding extra comfort with the fire. You continued drying your hair with the towel until you knew for certain it would do you no more good and set it aside.

Semi dry.. but still noticeable.. would Loki touch you to make sure? Run his fingers through your hair? Notice if a single drop of water was left on you? This was petty.. this was impossible.. what would he do? You didn’t know if you shivered from the thought or that you were still trying to keep warm but for some reason, the room began to grow colder.

You glanced towards the balcony but didn’t find the doors open, nor any windows. Damn.. you were freezing! Even this close to the fire, it should be doing something! You rubbed your arms and felt your chest getting affected by the frigid temperature. You quickly pulled your knees up to your chest, suddenly hyper aware of how naked you were but there was no way in Hel you were going to wrap yourself back up in the wet cold towel.

You had no solutions and you realized it.. he wanted you naked.. defeated, losing whatever game he was playing.. you stayed knelt on the ground while a arm wrapped to cover your chest while your other rested down with your hand covering your intimate area. This was humiliating and you shivered. Cold and scared. What would be the punishment?

Loki came back out with a towel around his hips again and a spare he was using to dry some of his hair. He stopped just two steps out of the bathroom and rested your eyes on you. His expression, you weren’t sure. You stared at the floor shivering, red faced and tried controlling your breathing.

‘’I’m sorry my prince.. I’m still a little wet and could not find a proper solution..’’ your words came out in a cold chatter, quiet and careful.

The silence made you dare begin to look up, to see if he was angry but as soon as you saw movement, you closed your eyes. Would you hear the whoosh of a belt? Perhaps him drawing a sharp breath before he would curse at you? Maybe nothing at all before you feel the impact of something.. and still, nothing.

Nothing until you felt a slender, smooth finger pad rest below your chin and raise your head, making you slowly open your eyes before they caught sight of Loki’s kneeling form, looking at you with a soft yet still, unreadable expression.

‘’how wet darling?”

His whisper came out clear and yet you still questioned if you heard him correctly. this god was a man of mystery and wondered if he was insinuating an innuendo or the literal state you were in.

‘’..m-my prince?”

His thumb rested with his finger, pinching your chin by having to repeat himself with sharp eyes and yet his voice still remained so soft. ‘’just how wet are you darling?”

You weren’t sure why your cheeks were red, tightening your arms around yourself while you tried to convince yourself you were meaning literal while you drew a breath. ‘’a little..’’

‘’soaked?” he asked, almost to quickly with the thrill in his voice that seemed to startle you.

‘’d-dripping my prince..’’ you whispered, feeling his hand leave your chin to run gently against your cheek before his fingers found themselves in your hair.

Granted you weren’t to bad, the temperature having somehow returned to normal and yet still you shivered. Especially when his eyes began to travel down to your covered form, making you shiver even more while he tilted your head back to expose your neck.

‘’cold darling? you cannot hide it from me..’’ he smirked, whispering against your skin while his lips rested against your cheek before ghosting the tip of his nose down to caress your neck.

‘’it’s f-freezing in here..’’ you tried not to whine, feeling your thighs press together while your mind fought between the growing pleasure and reality.

‘’I know, I made it that way..’’ he smirked and your eyes blinked at him while you bit your bottom lip.

‘’h-how- why..’’ you began but the tightening in your hair made you squeak, not to painful but enough for wanting strangely.. more.

‘’so I could have you just this way for me.. deliciously perky if I may add’’ he smirked and his eyes flicked to yours. You couldn’t even move your head but tightened your arm across your chest just encase by his comment. ‘’I knew you wouldn’t be able to find a solution and couldn’t pass up the chance to have you present yourself kneeling and naked.’’ He then chuckled. ‘’I so much prefer seeing you like this whenever I enter, perhaps I’ll have you do just that.’’ He smirked before releasing your hair and getting up.

Your hand left your intimate area to land in front of you so you couldn’t face plant the floor, now on your knees and palm while you quickly sat back in position and covered yourself while you watched him walk away. He was cruel.. he wanted you humiliated, red cheeked and submitting to him.. bastard.. gorgeous.. gorgeous bastard..

‘’come here darling,’’ he said and tossed the towels aside- looking dry to the bone before your very eyes and they widened at the sight of his backside while he pulled the covers back for him to get in. ‘’your punishment is over.’’

‘’..my punishment?” you blinked and felt yourself shiver while he slide into bed, sat up and arms crossed while he looked at you.

‘’I can’t have you chattering all night. Come here.’’ He said more firmly and your cheeks reddened while you bit your bottom lip.

Was freezing your punishment? Or the more humiliation that came out of it.. either way, you wanted to end both. Right now, you were guessing he wanted you on the other side of the bed, sliding in and quite frankly, the warmth of the heavy blankets was enough argument to have you trying to pull up enough courage to stand up.

‘’do not be bashful darling, it is nothing I haven’t seen before.’’

‘’m-most of me was under water..’’ you reminded him and stood yourself up, awkwardly covering yourself while you made your way quickly to the bed and got under the covers, knowing he had to have seen everything in that swift motion but the heat under the blankets made you forget the embarrassment for a moment.

‘’is that so?”

His hinting made you look over at him and question your own sanity. ..he wasn’t present when you got in the tub right? He only saw your chest.. unless he was referring to another moment- none you could recall before you began to get stalker vibes all over again. His slender hand took hold of your wrist, making you flinch at the sudden movement before you felt yourself sliding towards him until both his arms wrapped around you.

‘’you think too much.’’ He reminded while your eyes widened and felt yourself being turned around until his chest was being pressed up against your back and something hard pressing against your ass.

You weren’t stupid and felt your heart rate up but his arms just held you against him while his nose buried itself in your hair. Oh gods.. was this it? Was he going to-

‘’relax..’’ he whispered and still didn’t move.

His slow breathing became steadier and you half debated on if he was asleep or not. You didn’t dare move, but nor did you feel him move other than a few twitches here and there from his.. ya know..

No sex? Just some cruel cold torment and that was enough for him to fall asleep like a baby? You couldn’t go to sleep immediately, laying there in wait for the trick to appear, the surprise, the gotchu moment, but it never came. Eventually your waiting lengthened to the point where your eyes indeed began getting heavy, and felt yourself falling asleep soon after he was felt nuzzling impossibly closer.

Tag List: @comehomecomehometous @trash-panda-kitty @kuroturo @lovinglimerence @kathren1sky-blog @soulpiercing @ildflue-17 @navs-bhat @ririsasaki @allbymyself17 @howl-and-midna-smeltser

[vodika-vibes]

Lost And Found

Summary: As a Private Detective, you get all sorts of clients. However, you never thought that a Mandalorian would hire you. And you never thought that his simple case would turn into something so important.

Pairing: Pre Paz Vizsla x F!Reader

Word Count: 1526

Warnings: Kidnapping, torture (though nothing detailed)

A/N: So this was going to be straight up romance, but I got bit by a wild plot bunny and this was made instead.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

Nearly a year ago, Paz Vizsla stepped into your office intent to hire you.

You wish you had told him to take a hike. You wish you hadn’t been so desperate for credits.

But, well, if wishes were fishes you’d never go hungry, right?

The case had been simple, at first.

His foundling, Ragnar, had been kidnapped from right in front of the house. There had been no witnesses and no ransom demand, and while his people were still doing their own search, Paz reached out to you.

A missing kid is a big deal, and you always assume malice when a kid goes missing, so you accepted the case without thinking it through all the way.

At the time, your immediate instinct was that a rival clan was trying to use Ragnar to get revenge against Paz. After all, there are only Mandalorians on Mandalore, so it’s a logical conclusion to reach.

Paz swore, up and down, that no Mandalorian would harm a child to get to their parent. And while you wanted to take him at his word, you’ve seen enough evil in the galaxy to know that it’s not always the case.

Luckily, finding Ragnar was simple, once you dug up a lead.

He had been snatched by slavers connected to the Hutt Cartel. The slavers hadn’t made it off Mandalore yet, seeing as the search for Ragnar was going strong. So rescuing him had been a simple matter of coordinating with some of the warriors, and sneaking in to free him while the slavers were distracted by the, very angry, men and women.

Paz and Ragnar were reunited, and you got a very nice paycheck. Plus a bonus.

And it was a sweet reunion. You hadn’t known that a man as solid and dangerous as Paz Vizsla could be so soft with another person. It was, frankly, unfairly attractive. Which is a hilarious thing to think seeing as the only part of his body you’ve ever seen was a sliver of skin at his neck, when he moved his head.

Anyway, the case should have stopped there.

You should have stopped digging. You weren’t getting paid to keep digging, after all. And you had other cases that you needed to look into.

But this case was like an itch in your brain.

Something didn’t make sense.

And so, between cases, you kept digging. Subtly, at first. Looking into missing kids from isolated communities. Looking at the crime rates in refugee camps across the galaxy. Looking into the numbers of slaves available on the dark web.

You were following threads through a labyrinth of conflicting information and dangerous road blocks. And you were doing so without any support or back-up.

Eventually, the threads led to a dead end, and you realized you had to take a step back and reevaluate your case. At the time, you had a lot of information, but there was nothing connecting the information to each other.

So you thought and planned, and decided to go and kick some trees. Just to see what will shake loose. Asking the right people the right questions has always been a staple of your career, after all. And you’re good at what you do.

This time, however, you asked the wrong person the wrong question, and you ended up with a bullet in your shoulder—who even uses slug-throwers in this day and age—and locked in a tiny cell.

By virtue of your career being what it is, when people start shooting at you, or trying to torture you, you’re heading in the right direction. The only problem is, you aren’t really sure what rabbit hole you just fell down.

You’re not worried though.

You’ve always been a survivor. And this situation is no different than any other situation you’ve been in before.

You just need to bide your time until you can escape. After all, pain is a temporary sensation, and it’s a reminder that you’re still alive.

Still, you hope you get your chance soon.

Just because pain is temporary doesn’t mean you enjoy it.

“I appreciate you coming so promptly,”

Paz eyes the slimy looking man standing in front of him, grateful for the helmet that hides the contemptuous curl of his lip, “You said the matter was urgent.” He says instead.

“Yes, quite so.” The slimy man wrings his hands anxiously, “A woman was poking around, and we’re trying to determine how much she knows, but she’s very tight lipped. For a woman, at least.”

“Is that right?”

“We’ve tried everything. Burning, electricity, knives, guns—she still won’t talk.”

“Torture generally isn’t a good way to make people tell you things.”

“Which is why we called on a professional,” The man beams up at Paz, “Unfortunately, she might have something of a concussion at the moment—”

“How did that happen?”

“One of the boys got frustrated because she was being lippy and beat her with his blaster,” He shrugs, “It happened a few days ago, but she’s not quite back to herself yet.”

Any positive feelings Paz might have had to the people who work here, all of whom are slaves or former slaves, vanishes immediately. Anyone who would beat a woman just for being ‘lippy’ doesn’t deserve any mercy. “Show me.”

Paz follows his employer through the dimly lit halls and passed dozens of empty, but blood stained, cells. Until they stop in front of a solid metal door. The door slides open with a wave of a key card, and Paz has to physically stop himself from reacting.

Even badly beaten and covered in blood and dirt, she’s still recognizable as the detective who found Ragnar.

If he had known that the Detective was still looking into why Ragnar was kidnapped, he would have reached out and they could have investigated together.

He quickly shoves the thought to the side, and steps into the cell to crouch in front of her. She’s not conscious, and there’s fresh blood dripping from a cut on her temple. Suggesting to him that someone paid her a visit before he got here.

He exhales silently, and quickly starts coming up with a plan to get her out.

And, luckily, the half formed idea just might be enough.

“I’m taking her with me.” Paz says, as he shifts her so he’s able to sling her over his shoulders. It’s not the gentlest way to carry her, but he’s technically undercover, “I need someplace else to work, someplace where I can trick her into being comfortable.”

His employer blinks up at him, and then beams, “Oh! Of course! What a clever idea! You’ll keep me in the loop though, right?”

“That is what you’re paying me for.”

“Wonderful! Wonderful! I look forward to hearing from you.”

The next half an hour flies by, as Paz gets her back to his ship and gets the ship in the air, before he starts to tend to her injuries.

She’s hurt worse than she looks.

Cuts and lacerations, broken and dislocated bones. Not to mention the concussion he’s sure she has.

But he does his best to patch her up, cleaning and wrapping her injuries, before letting her sleep in his bed while he keeps watch.

She doesn’t wake for hours. For long enough that he started checking her breathing every fifteen minutes, just in case.

And when her eyes flutter open, he releases the breath he feels like he’s been holding since he saw her in that little cell all those hours ago.

Her unfocused eyes flicker over to him, and she stares at him for a moment, “...Paz Vizsla?”

“In the flesh,” He reaches out to gently push a bandage back into place, “How are you feeling, pretty girl?”

A, slightly loopy, smile crosses her face, “You think I’m pretty?”

He laughs softly, “You saved my son. I’d have married you on the spot.”

She hums, and Paz is pretty sure she has no idea what he’s talking about. But then she slowly nods, “Kay. But I want a necklace.”

“A necklace?”

“Yeah. Rings ruin my gloves.”

“Well,” Paz is trying, so hard, not to laugh at her, “We can’t have that.”

“So I want a necklace.” She finishes with a tiny nod.

“Noted.” Paz checks on another bandage that had slipped while she was sleeping, “Tell you what, when you no longer have a concussion we can talk about this more.”

“Yeah...my head hurts.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Carefully Paz slides his hand between her shoulder blade, “Let’s get you sitting up so you can take some pain medicine.” She doesn’t fight him as he pushes her into a seated position, though she does slump into him.

“...ow. My everything hurts.”

“I know. Here, two small pills, and then you can sleep some more.” Paz helps her with the pills and the water, before he carefully lowers her back down, “Then we can talk about the case, alright?”

“You’re good at this,” She mumbles as she pats his hand clumsily, “Even more attractive now.”

And Paz chuckles, “Thank you. Get some more sleep, pretty girl. We can talk more later.”

@heidnspeak

@justiceandwar98

@etod

@kiss-anon

@lonewolflupe

@silly-starfish

@msmeredithrose

@cdblake1565

@badbatch-bitch

@continous-mistakes

@falconfeather23435

@tiredbi-peach

@kimiheartblade

@clones-cyare

@cc--2224

@0revna0

@mira-loves-star-wars

@trixie2023

@rebell-ious

@padawancat97

@sweater-sloot

@bb8-99

@maniacalbooper

@wax-birds

@adriennelenoir

@omegaprime18

@bad4amficideas

@dukeoftheblackstar

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@arctech-fox

@lokigirlszendaya

@sailorflora

@jetiimasterbekah

@six-1mpossiblethings

@clonetrooperjournals

@ct7567329

@thatforlornfeeling

[iamcinephile]

Accepting what I saw, yet frustated with the contradictions

The idea was great, but the execution felt off. I’ve been trying to make sense of it—finally coming to terms with what I saw. Maybe it would all seem amazing through “Nick’s love glasses,” but taking those off, well… here’s my take after some reflection. I'm trying to come to terms with the writers' decision—specifically in Season 6—to take Lawrence and Nick’s storylines in this direction.

I’ve been trying to view it from their intended perspective, but the execution felt bit-off. The writing was sloppy, which made it hard for me to feel emotionally connected to what should have been a powerful sequence. It looked cinematic, great music, good DRAMA, sure, but not me, it lacked the payoff, pure shock value they were clearly aiming for. Instead, it came across as a shortcut in the storytelling, rushing big decisions without proper buildup.

For example, seeing June walk freely through an airport with no security felt unrealistic, especially considering she was being hanged earlier that same day without any bruises or visible trauma. These inconsistencies and plot holes made it hard for me to accept the narrative choices.

Nick choosing to stay in Gilead for his wife and child makes sense—especially because June never gave him a real chance to explain himself. That storyline made more sense when viewed only within the context of this season. But it’s still frustrating. June has shown a willingness to repeatedly give people like Lawrence, Serena, and Aunt Lydia the benefit of the doubt—constantly searching for the good in them. Yet when Nick makes a single mistake, she shuts him out. Her forgiveness feels selective and, frankly, selfish. “She told me to give all this up,” Nick said to Lawrence, who replied, “You should have listened to her.” Lawrence had a touching goodbye with June before he stepped on the plane, but Nick and June — the show’s biggest romance since season one — never got that moment

So yes, her silence toward him fits this episode, not calling him out, it's correct. but if the roles were reversed, I doubt the show would handle it the same way. We will never know. Then there’s the line where Nick tells Lawrence that June asked him to leave many times—something we never actually saw on screen. That kind of retroactive storytelling makes it harder to understand Nick’s motivations. And goes against what it feels like he would give up everything if he had the chance to have a future with her. Since he was "nothing" outside of her eyes. So, he wasn’t naive—he stayed because he felt had no real option since he was SoJ, now with his new family.

But again, at end day, he could indeed, do better choices and help June more with Hannah, or even leave Gilead by almost anytime since he is Eye and Commander, or when Tuello give that offer in Season 5, if not for June, for himself.

But again I honestly believe if he had been given that opportunity from her, he would’ve taken it, just like he expressed back in episode 3 of this same season.

Overall it's tragic situation. And fulll of contradictions.

I wish the writers had left that line out because it felt out of character and added more confusion. They made audience felt betrayed.

Overall, I just wish this part of the story had been handled with the same care and nuance as previous seasons. Maybe then these character arcs would’ve felt more believable and satisfying with this outcome, not just for Nick or Lawrence.

I’m glad others enjoyed it, but for me, the show went from being a standout piece of television to feeling more like a soap opera riddled with plot holes.

In the end, it’s just a TV show. Life moves on.

Like Nick, I just wish the writers had made better choices.

I'm going watch the finale. This story is more than love triangle, I had higher hopes that the focus was more June's motherhood and taking down the regime in last two season than dragging this love-plot drama and redeem the wrong characters. This season that Jezebel's mission look like more sidequest mission wasn't fitting to this story, Hannah wasn't mentioned this season, at all.

I wish I could easily root for June, too selfish, by this point!

(Don't blame me, because I thought that TT was canon)

I hope some day, I can look back I enjoy this show again. :)

[po1sonn]

So I read something and honestly it made me this of Kirishima. I’ve always had this idea that He isn’t to bright when it comes to someone flirting with him. Or maybe he is but he is never really comfortable enough to shut it down. Yk he thinks it’s rude. Which would ofc cause a huge problem over time-

A/N: Did not proof read sorry😚

“Eiji-“ you say in the tone where he knows something is up. Your voice is laced in annoyance, hurt even. This was the millionth time you heard another girl flirting with him. And like always he said nothing to stop in. In fact sometimes it seemed like he played into it. You two were out, finally a day to have him to yourself. There were plenty of errands that needed to be taken care of so he just came with you. Before long you two ran into a woman he worked with. Frankly she was flawless, her beauty long legs, hair looked as if she just left the hairdresser. Her immediate vibe almost screamed ‘man eater’.

Fuck- here we go, was all you could think. By the way she looked and him you knew she was coming over not just to say hello. “Oh Eiji, did expect to see you here” her smile almost blinded you. Your eyebrow twitched the moment she reached out and softly grabbed his arm. “Hey, I see it’s your day off too” He beamed back even though he felt slightly uncomfortable. You could read his face but this time you wanted to see if he’d say something himself. I mean he’s grown after all, you shouldn’t have to ask her to stop for him ….right? It took her a minute to acknowledge you, even though you could’ve swore you saw her eyes drift to you before she actually spoke to Kirishima. “Oh and this is…?” Her question was directed towards him was a hello to hard for her or something? “Oh? This is my girlfriend y/n, you know her picture is on my desk” “Right…I guess her just looked a bit….different in person” that was definitely a dis.

You so badly wanted to tell her to fuck off and suck another dick. You wanted to say something to her, but you didn’t. You wanted to see if this time Kirishima would shut it down himself. He knew, just like you did how badly it bothered you that he never shut down these girls. You always did. So as much as it pained you….you stayed mute. But sadly, just as you expected he said nothing. So for the rest of the time you two spent in the store you barely spoke. You couldn’t. The words that wanted to come out was like hot lava. Questions swirled in your head ‘How long am I gonna deal with this?’ ‘Does he just not care how I feel’ ‘why is his feelings more important than mine in this situation?”

“Eiji..” you couldn’t hold it in anymore. Walking through the front door of your apartment every feeling you were trying to hold in was finally about to spill out. “Yea what’s u-“ “So i assume you once again didn’t notice she was flirting with you? Or was it you just didn’t wanna come off rude again” He choked on air, he knew she was flirting. Was it really wrong of him not to wanna be rude? “Babe you know I just…I-..she’s a nice girl I don’t wanna be rude. Plus she is fully aware of my relationship with you. There’s no real ne-“ you cut him off again “There is a real need for boundaries, she may be aware of me but that didn’t stop her from flirting. You made her comfortable enough to do that in my fucking face” Your nose began to burn just as you tried your best to choke back tears.

“I’m sorry-“ ugh there he goes with the meaningless apology. In no way did you wanna hear it again. Not when you know nothings gonna change. “No…no you really aren’t or else something would’ve changed Eiji. My feelings don’t matter above yours. Not in this situation-“

definitely leaving it off like this rn🫠 I’m sorry but yea this was in my head. If you read it and wanna write it better than I just did, please go for it😭 I’d love to see it

[meiliarotten]

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time Three: Return of the Kink

Day 14: Correction (Spanking)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairings: Spy x Gender Neutral!Reader

Summary: Your battlefield shenanigans are getting out of hand, and Spy decides to do something about it.

Tags: Spanking, Dom/Sub, bratty reader, masochism, hair pulling, edging, teasing, aftercare

Word Count: 3.4k

The Masterlist

“So… you’ve been chain smoking ever since we got off the battlefield. And that was an hour ago.”

Spy barely acknowledged you, simply proving your point by lighting a fresh cigarette with the embers of the last one. You sat uncomfortably in a chair across from him, a chess set laying untouched between the two of you. “I mean, I know this is called a smoking room for a reason, but this,” you gestured towards the cloud of wispy gray smoke that had formed above the two of you, “Is a bit much, don’t you think?”

Honestly, if it weren’t for the effects of the Medigun you were certain Spy would have literally every kind of respiratory illness by now. All of the lung cancer, all of the emphysema. All of it.

Another moment of silence stretched out for an eternity before you let out an annoyed huff. Getting up from your chair, you walked right over to Spy, leaning against the arm of his chair and fixing him with the sweetest expression you could muster. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Spy sighed, a cloud of smoke passing his lips before he responded, still refusing to look at you. “You really are dense sometimes, my dear.”

“Damn. Alright then,” you said, put off by his obtuse, and frankly, insulting response. You moved to return to your own seat but Spy grabbed your arm.

“Non, non! Come, sit.” You let him pull you into his lap. His tone sounded apologetic. You made yourself comfortable, straddling him. He snuffed out the cigarette in a nearby ashtray.

“So, what’s wrong?” you asked again, hoping for a more direct answer this time.

Spy took a deep breath. “Darling, you know I love you.”

“I am very lovable.”

“And you know that I will always be honest with you.”

“Oh no.” You recognized that tone and those words. What followed was usually some kind of critique, and what’s worse, it was almost always a valid critique- the worst kind of all.

Spy went on. “Which is why it is my responsibility to say that your battlefield performance today was, in a word, abysmal.”

“Ouch.” You pouted, batting your lashes at him. He remained unaffected by your antics, continuing with barely a pause.

“It was not just today, either. You have been inattentive, and more so, you’ve made yourself a distraction for me as well!”

“It’s just a bit of flirting. It’s fun!” You were actually a bit surprised at this. You had been under the assumption that Spy was a sucker for stolen kisses in concealed corners or subtle, yet tender touches between checkpoints.

“It is fun for you, but your ‘flirting’ has cost us several battles in the past month alone!” Spy knew he wasn’t completely innocent either. His responses only encouraged your behavior, but you were always the inviting factor, so it was only fair that you bared most of the blame.

“It’s not my fault you make backstabbing look so hot.” You pouted, arms crossed indignantly. “Besides, I thought you liked having my eyes on you.”

Spy took a deep breath, trying to be patient with you, no matter how difficult you were making that endeavor. “Even when you are being insolent, you somehow manage to be charming,” he admitted. “But even so, I can not allow myself to become infatuated with your faults.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you asked.

“Darling, it is our duty as lovers to bring out the best in each other, and sometimes that involves a bit of correction.”

Correction? Seriously? You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “What are you going to do, spank me?” Spy paused. He paused for a very long time. “Spy?”

“Perhaps I should.”

“What? Spy, I was joking! You’re actually considering it?” you said, stammering.

“Oh no, my dear, I’m not considering it. I have already decided.” He said, giving you a stern look that made you want to shrink away into the nearest wall. “Bend over my desk.”

You didn’t get a chance to protest before he pushed you off his lap. You rushed to get back on your feet, stumbling slightly. “Spy, what the hell are you doing?” you asked, glancing at the desk in disbelief.

“I believe I was quite clear.”

“You can’t be serious!” you said, exasperated and baffled by the situation that was unfolding before you.

Spy took you by the chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “You are being a petulant little brat.”

You bristled. “I am not!” Ironically, that may have been the most ‘bratty’ thing you could have said at the moment.

The two of you stared at each other for a while, stuck in a kind of stand off before Spy sighed and his gaze softened. “Are you truly uncomfortable with this, darling?” he asked. “I won’t do anything to you that you do not agree to.”

“No, it’s not like I’m scared of a little pain.” You thought it over for a moment. Once your initial shock had been pushed aside, it didn’t really seem all that bad. “It’s just kind of humiliating.”

“Of course. Punishment must by necessity be at least a little unpleasant.”

Well, you supposed that made sense, and even you had to admit that some of your actions had cost you some pretty vital battles over the past few days. Everyone had been in a less than pleasant mood because of it, and if there was a chance this unconventional method of ‘correction’ could end your team’s streak of losses, then it was worth a shot. A few swats to your ass couldn’t be that difficult to endure, right?

“I’ll do it, if it’ll make you feel like you’ve ‘fulfilled your duty as a lover,’ or whatever,” you said, struggling not to roll your eyes as you quoted his own words back at him. You turned, bending over the desk and shifting your weight side to side. You craned your neck to shoot him a wicked smile. “You can even enjoy the view while your at it-”

The first spank came down hard before you could finish your sentence. You cut yourself off with a shout, covering your mouth the moment the sound escaped you. Your face flushed, embarrassed at how strongly you had reacted. Spy grinned, however his tone remained even and calm, almost nonchalant.

“I believe ten swats will be sufficient, assuming we don’t have to start over.” Before you could ask what exactly would require him to start over, a second spank made you jump. Instinctively, you tried to squirm away from the impact. Spy’s other hand immediately pressed down on the small of your back, keeping you in place. “Stay still, darling. Reste calme. This will be easier if you obey.”

“Fuck, this is ridiculous,” you said, trying to distract yourself by seeing the humor in this situation. Spy delivered a third spank without hesitation. You were more prepared for it this time, biting your lip hard to keep from crying out again.

“Perhaps I need to curb that snarky mouth of yours as well,” he said, clearly unamused with your commentary. Having not learned your lesson, you opened your mouth to speak once again, only for your words to turn into a harsh moan as a fourth swat rained down on you. A fifth left you gripping the edges of the desk.

“That’s it, hold on if you must. You’re taking this quite well for your first time receiving such punishment.” That was the first bit of praise Spy had offered you since starting this whole ordeal. “We’re halfway done now.”

“Only half?” Your voice trembled. You weren’t sure why this was affecting you so much. It hurt, yes, but you had endured pain far worse. This should not have been making you shudder and whine. It was only upon the sixth swat that you found yourself squeezing your thighs together, your eyes going wide as you finally recognized that familiar feeling blossoming between your hips.

On the seventh, you began to pray that Spy would interpret your moans as sounds of pain, because there was no holding them back anymore. You pressed your forehead against the desk, clamping your lower lip between your teeth in a feeble attempt to quiet yourself. That only resulted in your moans turning into shaky whimpers as you rode out the final moments of your punishment.

There was no denying that you were quite disappointed when it ended. You stayed bent over the desk for a while, hiding your bereft expression from view. Spy’s hand still rested on the small of your back, a small assurance that he was still there. He stayed quiet, letting you sit up at your own pace. When you did finally get up your eyes remained glued to the desk for a while as you tried to quell your arousal.

“Look at me.” Spy’s words were soft, but stern. Reluctantly, you turned to face him, hoping against hope that your blush had calmed down, even though the heat in your cheeks proved otherwise. You were met with a surprisingly tender smile and Spy reached out to brush his thumb over your chin. “You did wonderfully, my darling. Come, let me kiss you.”

Now that was an order you were eager to follow. You pressed your lips to his, gripping the lapels of his suit, pulling him close. Your bodies were flush against each other, but it still didn’t feel close enough. You wanted him inside you, you wanted it so badly it hurt- or maybe that was just the lingering sting from your punishment. Whatever it was, it caused tears to prick at the corners of your eyes. When you finally broke for air, your gasp came out as more of a sob that you tried and failed to stifle.

“It’s alright, don’t hold back,” Spy whispered, moving from your lips to kiss your cheek, wiping a tear away with his thumb. “Crying is natural after such an experience.”

You sniffed, trying to keep some composure even as tears fell and dotted the expensive fabric of Spy’s suit. He took off the jacket, letting it drape off the edge of a nearby chair. You weren’t sure why, but some strange combination between the lingering sting of the spanks and the sight of Spy removing his clothing sparked something in you. Without thinking, you began to tug at the buttons of his undershirt.

Spy made a soft sound of surprise, but you kissed him before he could say another word. You didn’t want any interruptions, not yet. Still, you eventually had to draw back for air. Spy chuckled as you unfastened the final button, splaying your hands over his chest. “I’m starting to think this was a bit too enjoyable for you, mon amour.” You shushed him, raking your nailed down his chest. He gasped, but quickly regained his composure. “I wasn’t aware I had a masochist on my hands. I would have chosen a different method of punishment otherwise-”

You kissed him hard, shutting him up once again. Clumsily, you began to pull at his belt and slacks. You were working blindly, but slowly, the belt came loose. Spy jerked against you roughly when you finally wrapped a hand around his cock. You weren’t gentle, pumping him fast and feeling him harden in your grasp. He moaned against your mouth and you felt a hint of pride at getting such a reaction out of him, no matter how brief. Your little power trip wasn’t going to last long, though.

Gloved fingers tangled into your hair. You hummed, enjoying the gentle touch on your scalp, until Spy suddenly tightened his grip and pulled hard. Your head tilted back and you winced.

“Ouch! God, what was that for?” you asked, glaring at him and rubbing the back of your head.

“I was just reminding you who is in charge here.” Without another word, Spy leaned in to kiss your now exposed neck. You shivered, feeling him suck the skin hard before pressing his lips tenderly against the new red mark. He was going to leave bruises, you were certain of it.

With a huff, you pulled away, feeling his hold on your hair loosen enough for you to move. “Fine,” you said, turning around to face the desk again. You leaned over, bracing yourself on your elbows and swaying your hips subtly. “Go on, take charge, Sir.”

Spy laughed, but you also caught the slightest hitch in his breath. You knew he loved it when you referred to him with such authority. A well placed ‘Yes sir’ was a weakness of his that you often took advantage of. Your pants and underwear were quickly yanked down, leaving your lower half exposed. You held back a whimper as Spy began to caress your still very sore ass.

“Such a lovely red,” he said, speaking as if he was admiring a work of art. You had no doubt the red he spoke of was akin to the hue adorning your face as well. You leaned your forehead on the desk, hoping the coolness of the wood would ease the flush.

It was only when you felt a finger prodding at you that you lifted your head. Your eyes went wide and you almost laughed when you realized the finger was noticeably slick. “What the hell?” you said, realizing what the substance was. “Do you just happen to carry lube on you at all times?”

Your question was me with a soft chuckle. Spy leaned over, placing the bottle right next to you upon the desk. Sure enough, it was small enough to easily fit within the pockets of his suit jacket. “With a lover as ravenous as you, one must be prepared.” His touch left you and you heard him moan as he slickened his cock, pumping it a few times before lining up to your entrance. You tried to grind against him, but he pulled away with a huff. “Control yourself, darling.”

He pushed in at a painfully slow pace. When he finally hilted inside you he stopped, holding himself there. His hands wandered from your hips up to your waist. You squirmed and whined. “Come on, move! Move, please!” The grip on your waist tightened, and you went quiet.

“This is the kind of behavior that we just dealt with, my dear. I won’t say it again- be patient.” You scowled, mostly because you knew he was right. He was giving you time to adjust. The last thing you needed was to hurt yourself. That was a type of injury you most certainly wouldn’t want to explain to Medic.

So, you muffled your complaints, biting your knuckles until you felt Spy begin to reward your display of restraint. His hands tightened around your waist again, but not in warning. It turned out you just made for great leverage as he began to thrust faster. “Fuck,” you gasped, feeling his hips smack against your ass.

“You’re still sensitive.” Spy ground his hips against you, making you whimper. “But you enjoy how it feels, don’t you? The pain mingled with the pleasure. You enjoyed being spanked.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a scream when another swat suddenly came down on your ass. You clamped your hands over your mouth in shock, certain that if anyone was nearby, perhaps even down the hall outside the smoking room, they would have heard you.

“Oh my, who knew you could make a sound like that?” Spy said. You could practically hear the smirk on his face from the way he spoke. “My very own bratty little masochist. I should have known you would like this.”

He was going faster. You weren’t even sure when he began to speed up, or when you had laid out flat against the desk. At some point your arms had buckled under you, leaving your cheek pressed against the hardwood. You hoped you weren’t drooling too much. That would be even more embarrassing than the high pitched shrieks that followed every fresh swat that Spy delivered. It was so much more intense without the barrier of clothing in the way.

After a while, even the embarrassment began to fade. You felt high on the pleasure, high on the pain. You weren’t sure which you liked better. Perhaps it was the combination of the two contrasting sensations that created this unique, foggy, dream-like state you found yourself in. You never wanted to lose this feeling. Your whole body was beginning to feel hot, overwhelmingly hot, and a familiar, tight coiling in your stomach signaled that your climax was fast approaching. All good things must come to an end at some point.

You clawed uselessly at the desk, scrambling for purchase on anything within your reach until Spy’s hands clamped around your wrists, pinning them. “Try not to scratch up my desk, love.”

“Spy, I’m close!” You weren’t even sure if Spy would be able to understand you through your moans. “Fuck, I’m so close, please!”

“Do you think you deserve it?”

Spy’s response stumped you, and you began to stammer. “What? What do you mean?”

“You heard me, darling. I already warned you, I will not repeat myself.”

You shuddered. Spy’s pace had slowed again. He was keeping you right on the edge. Your body screamed for release, but even now, you knew it was a release that you hadn’t earned. “I don’t,” you sobbed. “I don’t deserve it, but I can be good! I’ll earn it, just please, please let me come, sir!” The words coming out of your mouth should have humiliated you, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was that promised blissful feeling that was being held just out of arm's reach, so close you could practically taste it.

“At least you are capable of honesty.” You barely noticed the tremble in Spy’s voice, the barest hint that he wouldn’t last much longer like this either. “Go on, you can stop holding back, mon ange.”

His words were like the pulling of a trigger. Your body shuddered beneath him. It took a moment for you to realize that elated, keening noise you heard was coming from your own throat. Spy’s grip held steadfast even as you strained against him, trying to squirm and writhe. Tears pricked at your eyes as your climax overwhelmed you. Your legs trembled, threatening to buckle as Spy continued to rut into your spent body without pause, chasing his own release. Mercifully, he finished soon after you, albeit much softer. He moaned against your ear, leaning his weight upon you for a few moments until you groaned, having been essentially squished against the hard surface of the desk.

“Ah, my apologies, love.” Spy got off of you, being exceedingly careful as he withdrew. You were trembling so much that he was certain you would collapse without his support. “Steady now,” he cautioned as you slowly sat up and took a few shaky steps away from the desk, leaning heavily on him.

“Fuck,” you sighed. “That was really good.”

Spy chuckled. You were never the most articulate person post-orgasm, but you were certainly the most honest. He pulled you in for a quick kiss, feeling your lips curve upward, smiling against him. “Darling, you enjoyed that far too much for it to be considered a proper punishment.”

Your face fell. “Oh. Do I need to have a ‘proper punishment’ now?”

Spy thought for a moment before coming to a decision. “Non. I believe a different method may improve your behavior much quicker.” He leaned in, his breath tickling your neck and sending a shiver down your spine. “If you promise to keep your focus in battle, I’ll fuck and spank you like that after every victory. Does that sound reasonable?”

You had to keep yourself from outright moaning at the very thought. A deep breath steadied your nerves just enough for you to respond with a nervous laugh. “Every night? I don’t know if I can manage that.” Oh, but you wanted to try. You very much wanted to try.

Spy smirked, reading you like a book. “Such an eager little thing. You will manage just fine.” He kissed your forehead before swatting your sore ass one last time, appreciating the way you yelped and practically jumped into his arms on instinct. “I have every confidence in you, petite fleur.”

[in1-nutshell]

Bot Buddy being Swerve’s older sibling

SFW, familial, platonic, Cybertroninan/ Bot reader, slight angst but has a happy ending

MTMTE

Part 1 of 2

Part 2 here

Part 3 here

For this writing, Swerve’s older sibling is going to be BIG. We are talking Fortress Maximus Big.

How does Buddy have a sibling like Swerve with their height? No one knows and quite frankly, Buddy doesn’t care. They are very close to Swerve.

Buddy doesn’t mind their younger brother talking their audial off about the most random things. They have gotten used to it by now.

“Hey Buddy. Do you think that if minibots ever became a combiner it would just turn out to be a normal sized bot?”—Swerve

“I honestly don’t know how to answer to that question.”

“No, no, but see if the size of one minibot—“—Swerve

“There goes my sleep…”—Buddy

Swerve is insecure, that’s nothing new. But it increases a bit when he is with Buddy in public. He doesn’t like it when bots or himself start comparing them with him. He really wants them to be proud of him and all of his accomplishments. Would 110% support anything Buddy… but he also has his limits.

“Hey Buddy, what are you doing?”--Swerve

“I’m trying to hone in my hiding skills.”--Buddy

“Under a table?”--Swerve

“Yep, and it surprisingly comfortable down here in this crouching position.”--Buddy

“Your stuck aren’t you.”--Swerve

“… maybe? Yes? Help?”--Buddy

“I’ll get the screwdrivers.”--Swerve

“Thanks Swerve!”--Buddy

“This has been the third time I’ve had to disassemble that table…This is getting ridiculous…”—Swerve

Swerve has taught Buddy a thing or two about what he knows about being a metalourgist. As well as teaching them bit of knowledge he knows from doing weird jobs here and there.

“Swerve what do we do when the light turns red?”--Buddy

“Oh! That’s a good question. That usually just means to-- HIT THE DECK!”—Swerve

Buddy is extremely protective of Swerve. They can sometimes get to a ridiculous level of overprotectiveness for Swerve. For example, breathe wrong in his direction, you will feel pain.

“Swerve hold my drink. I’m going to go teach a mech about keeping one’s servos to themselves.”--Buddy

“They just brushed by on accident! There is no need for violence!”--Swerve

It was no surprise that around the time the war rolled by, Buddy was approached and recruited into the Elite Guard. Swerve despite his worries fully supported Buddy.

“Don’t worry about it Buddy! I’m sure your going to have the best stories to tell me when you come back from your missions!”--Swerve

“You really think so Swerve?”--Buddy

“I am positively sure of it Buddy! You know what, this calls for a celebration! Lets go find some engex.”--Swerve

Whenever Buddy was on long trips, they made sure to try and send a message through their personal channel. Swerve tries to make his messages short, but that was nearly impossible for him to do.

“Hey its Swerve! I have so much to tell you, Buddy! First there’s this bot named Blurr and I got his number and now there is a big plan when the wars over. So the plan is that…”--Swerve

Now for some hurt.

Swerve gets notified from some officers from Buddy’s team that there was a good chance that they were killed in action in the last mission. Swerve was in denial at first, but it soon turned into a depression that would follow him for many years even after the war was over. To try and cope with the loss he would still try and send out deep space messages telling them about his day and how much he misses them.

“Hey Buddy, its Swerve again. It’s been a slow week at the bar today. Whirl’s has been on a cocktail binge and nearly attack a poor bot when he asked for the time… And Tailgate, did I talk about Tailgate, well Tailgate is… and then he exploded, I swear Buddy, he exploded!”—Swerve

Timeskip after the events of Swearth

Swerve was getting better. Sure, progress was slow but he was getting to a better place mentally, with the help of his friends and therapy. The only person who he had ever talked about Buddy was Rung. Buddy was a subject that Swerve was not comfortable speaking about too much about. Now Swerve only knows that Rung knows about Buddy ever existing but there were two another bots on board who knew about Buddy. It was Rewind and Whirl

Why? Why those two bots?

Rewind knew after accidentally stumbling on some footage of Swerve and Buddy. After seeing enough footage, Rewind could tell that Buddy at least meant something important to Swerve. He doesn’t bring it up to Swerve. He wants to but he knows if Swerve wants to eventually talk about something then he will talk.

Whirl knows Buddy as his ‘Buddy’ when he was working with the Wreckers. Buddy had joined as a collaboration between the Elite Guard and the Wreckers. Buddy ended up saving Whirl from certain doom and from then Whirl made sure that he was now Buddy’s problem.

“Hey Buddy, what do you think about breaking into a Decepticon clinic and crushing Killmasters brain module?”--Whirl

“How about we don’t do that.”--Buddy

“Your no fun, you know that.”--Whirl

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go get with the others. I think they are debriefing now.”--Buddy

Absolutely loved working with Buddy. He did find out the Buddy’s designation was on the KIA lists after he heard of their mission going off the rails. He had long accepted that Buddy was dead, or missing. Now being on the Lost Light, Whirl has some hope that Buddy might still be out there. If Swerve could create a giant holographic planet for months and not die or Rewind coming back, in a way, then anything was possible.

Now present time

Buddy was very much alive.