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i02dollia · 3 days ago

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ONLY BECAUSE I LIKE YOU — seunghan hong ˎˊ˗

you are so holy and angelic, a creature of light. for me, a being sinful and sick, you gift me back life.

ᝰ.ᐟ pairing. dom jock!seunghan x bottom male!reader

warnings. seunghan is a dick at first. enjoys bullying reader and making him feel upset or insecure. name calling, crying, arguing, and physical violence but it’s quite short and nothing serious. smut. seunghan is such a dom and is obsessed with being in control. lowkey creepy and perverted. seunghan loves cock!!

psst. isn’t the basketball divider soo cute 😩

the bell rang causing your heart to pound. the booming was furious and incessant—oh your poor heart. feeling like you were on fire and spontaneously combustion could occur at any moment now, slowly standing from your desk and gathering all of your belongings you decided to make a run for it which may have been the stupidest decision of your life. the feeling of a warm large hand grabbed at the back of your uniform and a small whine left your lips—a deep chuckle coming from behind you which was all too familiar. why did he have to be so attractive? fuck. why did you sorta.. like this?

“running from me already little one? I have practice today and you’re in charge of the balls, remember?”

“o-oh.. am I? must’ve f-forgot..” it was your turn to chuckle but it was nowhere near how seunghan would chuckle—yours was a pathetic giggle showing exactly how nervous you were around him even if the both of you had been childhood friends. still remembering his words not to tell anyone about growing up together.

there you weee clutching the books in your arms and keeping a good distance between him, his friends, and you. following them from the very back and hoping this would be over soon. every week seunghan would force you to be in charge of the basketballs—fetching them and throwing them back to him so he could make the perfect shot right in the basket. gym.. or sports weren’t your thing and it never will be. you were more of a, let’s take a ride and blast music or let’s go get some ice cream and walk around town kind of guy. seunghan use to be the same when you two were growing up next door to each other. as the years went on he changed and it wasn’t for the best. it was for the worst.

“hey dumbass!”

the sound of seunghan’s deep voice pulled you from the thoughts of the past—quickly setting your books down on the bleachers and running over to him like a puppy. a little obedient puppy that looked desperate.

“I’ve only been calling your name for minutes now. the hell is wrong with you? start getting my balls ready!”

seunghan’s group would laugh at you like usual and say the most fucked up things as if they were god’s gift to this planet. quickly—not wanting him to wait any longer you pushed the cart across the gym and handed him a ball. the ball had an odd black mark across it and he called it his lucky ball. why? the mark came from you. which you didn’t understand why it would be lucky since he hated you so much. his lips curled up into a smirk once you handed him the ball and he made the perfect shot like he always did. he was so perfect.

this continued for hours. seunghan never cared if you wanted to study, go buy a few snacks and be alone, or talk with some classmates about the upcoming exams. he only cared about bullying you and using you as his puppet because he knew you’d do anything he said. at this point the running back and forth had tired you out and your back subconsciously leaned against the gym wall—wanting.. no needing to slide down it and rest.

“get up loser. we aren’t done yet and you know that. why are you being so damn different today? any other day you’re running to make sure I’m satisfied. pissed off at me or something? maybe.. you want something else from me? maybe—like a kiss?”

his words caught you off guard and your body pushed itself off the wall—gently pushing him back by his broad shoulders. “what the fuck? why would you say something like that! weirdo.. you like boys?” what were you even saying? you weren’t too sure about him but you? you loved men. embarrassment filled your veins and a dark pink color came over your cheeks. seunghan quickly caught on and looked around making sure no one was paying attention before he leaned closer to you, forcing you to take a few steps back hitting the wall behind you. head tilting up to look at him. he was so much taller than you.. god you loved it so much.

“don’t fuck around with me yn. I know you’re just a little fruitcake needing to be taken care of but that won’t be from me. don’t even think about any of my friends either. they don’t like dudes nor would they want you.”

a warm tear ran down your flushed cheek. not.. understanding why he was such a dick to you. you pushed at his chest against but he didn’t budge—purposely showing how much stronger he was than you and it was such a turn on. pushing past him with everything you had he allowed you too and you found yourself running out of the gym. seunghan bullied you every single day but words were never said like today.

a few hours later seunghan found himself sitting on the gym floor—covered in sweat. his mind racing with the image of you and just how cute you were today. since a child he knew he liked you. was it love? he wasn’t sure but he needed and wanted you. the way you smiled, got shy and embarrassed so easily, the way you walked was so adorable to him and.. how you treated everyone around you. what a perfect person. he was ruining the perfect relationship he could’ve been having with you because of.. the school and him being one of the most popular students. what would happen if everyone found out about his crush on you? or.. why should he care about what others thought when he’s liked you since you both were children.

the next day was the same. seunghan would continue to pick on you, call you names, call you out in class for not paying attention or worse—staring at him. it was an accident.. really. it was. you had zoned out in his direction and when he threw a pencil at you to get you back to reality it was the worse reality you’ve ever faced. the girls around him would snicker and call you a weirdo for staring so hard at him—but to seunghan he loved it. loved the way your eyes found his and how you only looked at him in such ways. no other guy in the school had your attention like he did. he’d wink at you and you’d turn from such embarrassment.

“are you coming to the party tonight? it’s at seunghan’s I wasn’t sure if you’d be comfortable but please come?”

the only girl that was kind to you was begging you to go to his party. fuck. with a shrug to your shoulders—you flipped the page in the book and continued to read what was needed for the next exam. the girl groaned and pushed at your shoulder in a playful manner, “oh come on! you’ll be with me! don’t let that jerk bother you so much.” and she was right. all you had to do was ignore him and not let him get under your skin but it was hard when he purposely placed himself near you at all times. if he didn’t have the people around him so manipulated and obsessed with him, they’d think he’s weird for the constant pushing and pulling at you.

“fine!” is all you said to her before getting up from your bed and disappearing into the bathroom. why not.. get ready and look nice for once. everyone saw you as a nerd so maybe this was your time to prove them wrong!

“god you look good..makes me think you fake being a stupid looking nerd. you’re so.. fuckable now.” a groan left your lips at how weird she sounded—not knowing exactly what she meant but maybe that would bring seunghan to you. why did you care? he obviously didn’t like you. another groan left your lips and this time she turned to look around, eyebrows furrowed. “I-I was just annoyed with something..” disappearing into your closet to find something to wear. ripped skinny jeans? maybe not.. that’s so 2016. maybe shorts! god.. you look so stupid. there wasn’t much time so the pair of ripped jeans and a hoodie was your only choice.

“don’t be so nervous! nothing bad will happen. it’s a party and I’m sure everyone will be drunk anyway.”

drunk? everyone was a senior but that wasn’t the appropriate age to drink yet. it wasn’t even legal. at this point you’re sounding like a parent—your parents. ugh. the girl hooked an arm around your own pulling you inside the large home with her. the smell of alcohol, sweat, and smoke filled your nose causing you to cough. “why does it smell so bad in here—” before you could finish your sentence she giggled and looked your way, “why does you sound so innocent.. sheesh.”

“what the fuck are you doing here?”

that deep voice.. you knew all too well. slowly turning to look at seunghan who had a smirk across his cute lips. those lips. you’d do anything to kiss them. “he’s my friend! I wanted him to be here with me now stop being such a dickhead han!” han? since when was she so close to him.. to use a nickname? this weird feeling of anger filled you and it was something you didn’t like or want. who cares if she called him a nickname—your crush on him would never be anything more.

eventually she left your side and you were left to fend for yourself, grabbing a sprite from the cooler and making your way through the large home—pushing past sweaty bodies, people making out, and others passed out on the floor. what a damn mess this was. seunghan.. had his eye on you the entire time. pushing away each girl that came to grind against him or place their filthy hands over his chest. he watched carefully as you moved your head to the music and drank the sprite you got from the cooler. how fucking cute he thought to himself and how cute the outfit was on you. it’s something he’s never seen before and he wanted to see it more often. why not confess? should he? fuck he was in a tough situation of not knowing what to do.

stepping outside to get some fresh air—a sigh left your lips and you closed your eyes enjoying how much quieter it was out with nature. leaning against the railing of the large porch, your lips curled up into a smile once you seen a pretty butterfly stopping at a few flowers that were finally blooming getting ready for the spring. just as you were about to leave the porch a hand slipped around your waist forcing you to turn and face them—seunghan. your eyes widened and.. you couldn’t believe what he was doing. “what the hell are you doing seunghan? g-get off of me..” but he didn’t move. no not at all. why would he? he wanted this.

“I’m tired of pretending, pretty boy. aren’t you tired of pretending you don’t want me as well hm?”

shock. you looked at him in utter shock not believing what he was saying. was this another joke? which friend told him to act like this? you pushed his hand off of you but he brought it back up to your waist instantly and moved his body closer to your own until you two were pressed up against each other—his bulge.. was now touching your own. “s-seunghan this isn’t funny.” but he was serious. he wasn’t laughing like he would be if this was a joke. he wasn’t smiling. you’ve never seen this look on him before and it was confusing. now both of his hands were on your waist and he leaned in to your ear, warm lips touching the lobe—

“meet me upstairs in my room in 5. I mean it.”

seunghan then pressed a quick kiss below your ear and pulled away from you disappearing back in the house. not realizing it.. you’ve been holding your breath the entire time and when he was gone you could finally breathe, chest heaving up and down. holy shit. did that.. actually happen? you weren’t sure why he wanted to see you but why not. after about 5 minutes or what seemed to be 5 minutes—you made your way upstairs and to his room giving it a knock before letting yourself in. seunghan sat on the edge of the bed stroking his clothed cock and patted the seat next to him.

“lock the door.”

it was a demand—so you did. “if you need your dick wet so bad why not ask one of the girls down there.” seunghan could only chuckle at how pissed you sounded. it was quite obvious you were jealous and although you didn’t mean to show it.. it happened that way. his eyes never left your own as you sat down next to him not wanting to look down at.. him touching himself. seunghan scooted closer to you and wrapped an arm around your waist pulling you into his side, his face nuzzling in the crook of your neck.

“you don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. you’ve been on my mind since we were kids. at first I tried to ignore it but.. I just couldn’t. tell me you feel the same way, please? you feel the same way about me baby?”

what? what the hell. you felt as if your heart would beat right out of your chest. no words could form and all you did was stare into oblivion. what do you say to this? to the man who has been bullying you for years now and making your school life miserable. “s-seunghan this is a really fucked up joke.. you know that? stop this.”

“it’s not a damn joke! are you that fucking stupid? I like you loser. I’ve always liked you I just don’t know how to show that or be around you. I’m nervous as fuck and.. can’t properly think when I’m around you. I’ve faked it all to look cool and it’s not right. I want you. I want you so bad I can’t take it anymore.”

and with those words he laid his forehead against yours, free hand resting on your face rubbing away the warm tears that ran down your cheeks. seunghan thought you looked perfect like this.. crying because of him? god he loved it. his lips pressed against your own and it was as if his lips were made for yours—molding together so perfectly. he bit down on your bottom lip forcing his tongue in your mouth when your lips parted and a moan escaped your throat—grabbing your hand and leading it to his hardened cock in his pants.

“look at what you did to me baby.. showing up in such a cute little outfit like this. you look so different and it’s such a good different. I mean—you’re so adorable in the uniform but this? so. fucking. cute.”

your lips curled up into a cute smile—growing shy with the cute and sweet compliments he was showering you in. you groped his cock and rubbed it just like you’d do to your own and his lips parted—a raspy groan leaving them that made your own cock twitch in your pants. it was his turn to feel yours although it was much harder with the jeans on than his sweatpants so he took it upon himself to unbutton your jeans—you gasped. not sure if you were ready for him to see you in such a way yet. I mean.. would it be embarrassing?

“what baby? let me see your pretty cock, hm? I’ll let you see mine. I’m sure it’s the prettiest cock ever. let seunghan see okay? you’ll be okay. I promise.”

the way he spoke about himself in third person was so hot. you slowly nodded your head and helped him get rid of the jeans you were wearing. “such a good boy.” and your cheeks burned growing quite embarrassed by this situation but not in a negative way—it was far from that. this was your dream. you were definitely going to take advantage of this now. it was his turn to take off his pants leaving you both in your underwear. it was so.. intimate. especially with the way he stared at you as if you were the most perfect human alive.

“touch me baby. don’t be afraid, yeah? touch me and I’ll touch you how’s that sound? wanna jerk you off so bad.. you don’t know how many times I’ve thought about this and came so hard.”

seunghan wasn’t afraid to admit his feelings and how he thought of you. it was clear he wanted you to know. your hand found his cock and his found yours.. facing each other and slowly jerking each other off. your eyes finally left his to look down at his cock—which was the prettiest. your mouth watered at the sight and you so badly wanted to kiss the pretty dark pink tip. so without thinking about it you pushed his hand off your cock and leaned forward—wrapping your lips around the head and sucking gently. “oh.. oh fuck.” hearing seunghan cruse in such a way was so attractive and you wanted to hear more. his hand reached up to grip your hair keeping your head down and you took more of him into your mouth—down your throat until you gagged slightly from the tip hitting the back of your throat.

“fuck—baby that’s so good. you’re so good at this.”

were you? you weren’t going to tell him this was your first time ever sucking cock before. it was more than embarrassing at this point. you continued to bob your head up and down allowing him to be aggressive and force your head down so you’d take his entire length down your throat, pushing you off allowing you to gasp for needed air. “you’re such a good boy for me. fuck.”

seunghan pulled you by the hair and slammed his lips into yours tasting himself on your perfect lips and tongue that he already adored so much. after a few minutes of making out or what seemed like forever.. he pulled away from you and chuckled. “gonna fuck you so hard that everyone here knows you’re mine.”

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slapintoaslimjim · 3 days ago

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Can i request best friend katsuki finds out we are dating shoto BUT he has had a crush on us since 1st year of ua (can we be in 2nd year in this?)

Absolutely love love LOVE your fics <33

a/n: oh holy shit a possible tension/angst fic? “everybody gotta die, including me” or wtv cory said because angst WRECKS me but yk what? HELL YEAH! also thank you soooo much for your love and support ! <3

let it happen

now playing: bad religion by Frank Ocean

fem reader is implied ! angst is the only warning 2nd year based so this is post war arc!

Katsuki may have never been the best with words, or displaying his emotions, or even identifying them as a matter of fact, but after the war he knew one thing for sure. He didn’t just like you- no.

He loved you.

Seeing his own classmates battered on the battlefield during the war did more on him mentally than he thought it would. but what really affected him the most was the bloodcurdling scream of his name you let out when his body hit the ground after shigaraki basically destroyed him.

he couldn’t even see anything. he couldn’t hear anything else; but he knew there was a lot of noise. but the last thing he remembered hearing was you. your scream of pure horror.

so if the whole war arc wasn’t already enough mental baggage, why did the universe decide to be so unfair and make his heart feel so much more heavier than it already is?

sure, katsuki pushed you away the first few months at UA, he did with everyone. he was only there to be a hero, didn’t want to mingle with people who he thought were below him. he didn’t think he had time for all of that.

keyword; was. not is.

because quickly, during katsuki’s time as a first year at UA he made friends with his classmates, even rebuilt his friendship with Izuku. but you? you had a mind of your own that you weren’t even aware about. you found a way to sliver into his heart, soften edges around him, and lighten his day a little bit without even noticing it.

but after eavesdropping on a conversation he had no business listening in on, katsuki is tempted the universe is just trying to give him karmic lesson after karmic lesson of some sort.

“but you and todoroki are so cute together!” uraraka, ever the supportive best friend she was, said with an adorable eager smile to you as you talk to her about you and todoroki.

he felt his heart drop to his stomach at those words and suddenly the popsicle he wanted was unappetizing. he started listening in further to your conversation with uraraka subtly from the common room kitchen; forcing himself to look busy before just straight up leaving since he felt the air clawing out of his throat with every passing gushing word you spoke.

your happiness mattered so much to him, but goddamnit he would be lying if he said he didn’t wish it was him you were gushing over instead of todoroki.

you were never his. and he was never yours.

and that fact pained him so terribly much, and affected him more than he wanted to. the one person he finally let his guard down around, opened up to, gone to someone else.

“kats?” your voice cut through his racing thoughts, where he sat on the dorm rooftop watching the sunset; this was your activity, your spot, where the two of you found a routine in debriefing your days while watching the sunset.

and god, katsuki couldn’t ignored you even if he wanted to. and he really and truly wanted to. but his heart spoke before his mind could and he turned towards you.

“yeah?” he replied with his usual softer gruff that he had when he was around you.

you made your way closer to katsuki, sitting beside him as you two usually would do before speaking again. “you’ve been.. distant as of recently. is everything okay?” you ask softly and carefully, not wanting to sound accusatory.

katsuki pulled his gaze away from you with a scoff under his breath. of course you would notice his behavioral changes, you always did. both of you did with each other’s moods.

“s nothin” katsuki replies to you with a head shake and a soft chuckle; the soft chuckle aimed at himself for how pathetic he feels like he’s being right now. “don’t worry about it”

“suki you know you don’t have to hi-“ you didn’t even get a chance to finish before katsuki cut you off.

“y/n.” katsuki starts firmly with a sigh before looking over at you. your soft beautiful features, and worried expression. you have a boyfriend, shoto todoroki even, why were you so worried about him?

“i’ll be fine. just give me time to get over myself” katsuki speaks softly, barely above a whisper. you’ve never seen him like this before, so distant and obviously mentally battling something.

you let his words simmer in the air for a moment, resting your head on his shoulder. katsuki mentally debates the want to push you away or get up and move away for the sake of his own sanity, his own stability, and maybe the hurt won’t be so bad anymore. but he doesn’t. he lets your head rest on his shoulder, wrapping an arm around your shoulder like he usually does. it felt so natural, so normal for him to do.

“i’m not going anywhere, and im here whenever your ready to talk” you spoke softly, looking out at the sunset in the distance as katsuki rests his head against yours.

he inhales softly “i know” he says. and lets himself believe it. that no matter what; your relationship status, or the uncomfortable and painful emptiness that only you could fill in him, that you aren’t going anywhere.

a/n: hiya! this ruined me so i had to end it on at least a sort of bright light. there might be a possible part 2 depending on what people think of this and if i get another ask/comment on how i should write it!

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intoanotherworld23 · 1 day ago

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The End Of Us

Summary: You and Joel have made the difficult decision to go your own ways, and Joel just wants to spend one more blissful night with you before you leave

Warnings: explicit content, mature themes, smut, unprotected sex, smidge of spanking, dominant Joel, submissive reader, minor edging, sad ending, angst

A/N: Hello my lovelies this one is a little bit longer than what I’ve been writing lately so I hope that you guys enjoy this! Let me know what you think in the comments and reblog so that others can enjoy it as well. It would be greatly appreciated and encouraged. My Pedro pascal tag list is still open so if you wish to be tagged in future writings let me know and I’ll add ya! Thank you all so much! XOXO

Hall Of Hunks

Tag list for Pedro Pascal: @pedrohoe04 @k-k0129 @livingdeadmaria @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @milly-louise @kittenlittle24 @trisaratops-mcgee @subconsciouscollapse @hooked-on-penapascal27 @red-red-rogue @fellinfromthetop @drewharrisonwriter @vickie5446 @millerfan @lover-of-books-and-tea @bbyanarchist @justajoelsreader

Tag list for everything: @iam-laiya @rosie-posie08 @madzleigh01 @alwaysclassyeagle @mytbel0st @shanimallina87 @marvelstarker-mha98 @powellssugarbaby @lora21 @kmc1989

“Just one more night baby, please.” Joel had begged against your lips. “Please just let me have one more night of you.”

You and Joel wanted totally opposite things, and had different visions for the future. Constantly arguing to the point it was becoming toxic to stay with each other. That’s when you both made the difficult decision to go different directions.

You cup his face in your hands as you stare deeply into his eyes. Showing no signs of manipulation or deceit only seeing pure desire and love. Feeling your cold fingers pressed against his heated skin. Holding his breath waiting for your answer. “One more night.”

Watching as Joel stoops, and without hesitating you jump into his arms so he can pick you up. Wrapped around him so tightly almost afraid to let him go. Fearing he would disappear suddenly, and this would all be a dream. Carefully walking up to the bedroom, a somewhat somber feeling in the air.

Joel laying you down softly on the bed as he sucks on your plump lower lip. Dragging it out with his teeth only to let it bob back. Lips then caressing your jawline as his hands massaged your outer thighs. Feeling him press his erection against you causing you to moan.

“I bet you’re just dripping.” His voice low and deep already knowing the truth without even having to look or feel.

Without skipping a beat he lifts your arms up sliding your shirt off and to the side. Looking down to see your erect nipples just waiting to be touched. He was eating you alive with just his gaze alone.

“God I need you so bad.” Mumbling before leaning his head forward to nip at your bud. Dripping onto his hair as he flicked his tongue back and forth.

“Joel please just take my pants off.” He was fully teasing you at this point. Taking in more of you than ever knowing this was going to be the last night.

Emitting a noise in response at the desperation in your voice. Lifting your hips up as he pulled them down your legs leaving you completely exposed. The air hitting the wetness between your legs causing goosebumps to appear on your arms.

“See I knew you would be dripping.” He smirked knowing he was right, and all you could do was just roll your eyes at him.

“Just shut up and fuck me Joel.” Groaning wrapping your legs around him to help ease the ache. Joel knew what he was doing with you he wasn’t a fool. He wanted this last night with you to be explosive and utterly euphoric.

“I would watch how you talk to me baby girl.” He warned you his tone stern and dominant. His arms on either side of your head as he kissed your collarbone tracing his lips up your neck breathing you in. “I’m the best cock that’s ever gonna fuck you.”

Not even waiting for your response he stood up for a brief moment to strip himself of his clothes leaving him naked. Leaning on your elbows as you looked him up and down. Eyes drinking him in as you memorized every detail on his figure.

“Tell me how badly you need me.” Speaking as he grabbed your ankles opening you up to him. He wanted to hear you say it out loud.

“I need you so desperately Joel. You’re all I want. All I ever want.” Your words holding truth and meaning. It wasn’t a lie to just get what you want. “I love you.”

It was the three little words that held a much bigger meaning. He was shocked to hear you say it, and that was all he needed as he hovered over you pushing his cock inside of you feeling as he stretched you around him. Gasping your mouth wide open as he just watched your face.

“Fuck you’re so big.” Your hands gripping onto his waist holding him there feeling him deeply already clenching your cunt around him. Joel just leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours just loving the feeling of you, and not wanting to move.

“Keep your eyes on me baby girl.” He directed you wanting your entire focus on him. Joel was never shy when it came to intimacy. “Keep them on me or I stop.”

“Mhm.” Wiggling your hips wanting nothing more than him to move.

Joel pulling his hips back his cock slipping very easily just enough before he pushed forward again. Snapping his hips back and forth creating a steady rhythm. Hands gripping his arms as whimpers left your mouth. Wanting to just close your eyes so badly, but knowing Joel would stop, and this feeling would be gone so quickly.

“That’s a good girl. Taking me so good.” He praised as he briefly looked down as your walls swallowed him whole. It was a sight to see.

The sounds of your wetness were echoing in the room it was overwhelming your senses. Your entire being was just a mass of tingles, heat, and want. Just wanting to look down and watch as his cock abused your hole. Keeping your eyes on him as you noticed his face turning redder by the minute, and sweat dripping down his forehead.

“You feel so good, you feel so fucking good.” Groaning as he gritted his teeth trying to hold on for as long as he could.

Senseless sounds were tumbling out of you, the pleasure coursing through your veins. Whenever you and Joel would fuck it felt like you were floating in the clouds. Never wanting to come back down. Nothing compares to the way he makes you feel when he’s inside of you, and caressing your skin. Nothing else.

“I wanna cum in you.” There’s a desperation that instills within him, wanting to get to the finish. “Please I wanna cum in you so badly.”

“Yes, please, yes.” With no hesitation as you tightly wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in even closer.

A hand slithering down your lower stomach between your bodies so he can rub your clit in harsh circles. Crying out at the overwhelming sensitivity as your nails dug into his skin. Your eyes tearing up your body felt like it was going to explode.

“I’m close.” Warning him and he responded by flipping your bodies so smoothly so you were now on top, his cock never slipping out.

“Ride me baby girl.” Hands gripping your hips as you moved your body back and forth your hands pressed against his chest using him as leverage. “Fuck just like that.”

Rocking the entire bed the headboard knocking against the wall with your aggressive motions. Joel loved watching as you took control so desperate to chasing your own high. Hands coming down on your ass as a form of motivation to keep going. Your thighs burning already from this position.

“Look at me when you cum.” He tells you your brows upturn, whining in frustration. His thumb returning to your puffy clit rubbing fast circles.

“Oh god I’m cumming.” Feeling the dam break as your walls flutter around him from the stimulation. Throwing your head back as you felt your entire body trembling from the mind blowing orgasm, feeling the heat around your body overflowing with pleasure.

“Fuck.” Joel holding you in place as your cunt instinctually clenched around him. His cock twitching inside of you his own release just right there. Euphoria finally conquering him, and it makes effective work, hot spurts of him warm seed coating your insides.

Fighting to keep your eyes open as fatigue rushed through your body. Arms and legs feeling like noodles thankful Joel was holding you up otherwise you would have collapsed on top of him. Rubbing soothing circles on your thighs in comfort as he eased you through the last of your orgasm.

“Come here.” Patting his chest signaling to lay down. Slowly placing your head on his sweaty chest placing your ear over his heart listening to his rapid heart beat. Keeping his cock inside of you not wanting him to leave.

There was a sudden shift in the air. Feeling melancholy that this was the last time you and Joel were ever going to see each other. Joel pressing his lips on the top of your head it had you smiling.

“God I hate this.” Mumbling against his skin breaking the deafening silence. Your body frozen not wanting to move because then it would become real.

“I wish there was a different way, but we’ve already been lying to ourselves long enough.” Joel was being stronger for you knowing if he wasn’t you both would keep running in circles, and having the same conversations over and over.

If only you and Joel had met at a different time in your lives this discussion wouldn’t be happening. It was just both your luck you had to meet when the virus already broke out. You could see a beautiful life with Joel.

“I’m gonna miss you so fucking much.” His voice cracking as he tried to hold back the tears. It broke your heart to see him vulnerable like this.

“I’m gonna miss you too.” Kissing his chest a hand reaching up to rub the back of your head. A tear rolling down your cheek. This was going to be so much harder than what you thought.

“Who knows,” looking up at him your bottom lip trembling. “Maybe we’ll see each other again.”

Closing your eyes as the tears were starting fully stream down your face. You and him both knew better than that. Neither one of you were likely to see each other again. Of course, Joel wanted to make you feel better about the situation. Embracing you as he held you in his arms so tightly it actually started to hurt.

“Yeah, who knows.” Sniffling as you pathetically attempted to sound optimistic, but Joel saw right through you.

“I love you so much.” Staring deep into your eyes as he placed a kiss on your lips knowing it was the last time you were ever going to feel those soft lips on yours.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal blurb #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal imagine #Joel miller #Joel miller smut #Joel miller x reader #Joel miller fanfiction #Joel miller blurb #the last of us #the last of us smut

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seitmai · 2 days ago

Text

Many thoughts

Bucky only laughed, “meet us in Louisiana. Take care y/n.” he cuts the call. Bucky’s guy was not a wrinkly old pervert, but this insanely good-looking man with great posture and a warm smile.

What a positive surprise 👀

You fumbled with your bag as he raised his eyebrows, “let me take that for you.” He offered. “Oh no, no it's fine.” You laughed out, and he raised his arms in defeat.

What a gentleman 🤭

Cass looks at him with all seriousness, “Do you play Fortnight?” Joaquin fumbled, “Yeah. A bit.” “Cool.” They both replied in unison.

That's so teenage boy coded 😅

You saw Cass and AJ grow up after the blip, and stayed with them when they needed help. You might not have the same blood, but they were your family. If this was six years ago, from the same spot you could hear Steve and Sam coming up with ideas to locate Bucky, Natasha and Clint in the backyard fighting over something stupid, Sarah and her late husband on the porch setting up the grill, and Wanda making things fly that made Baby AJ giggle.

🥰🥹🥰🥹

You opened your eyes, but found only darkness ahead of you. That sliver of hope you had of watching your found family under one roof again was alive for five years… until the minute you saw Natasha didn’t return with Clint, Wanda not even looking in your direction at Tony’s funeral, and Steve going back in time without saying goodbye.

Uff 💔

His deep brown eyes look at you as you take a sip, and he confesses, “I got a call before I came here. My Abuela.” He takes a deep breath, “She’s cooking up a feast for the local homeless shelter, and I know, I know she’s not well because her voice is raspy and she’s breathing too hard and I begged her to sit this one out, but she’s one stubborn woman, won’t even listen to her only grandson.” You shock him with a laugh, looking at the dew on your bottle, “Sounds like someone I used to know.” “Your ex?” he nudges your shoulder playfully. You laugh, “My sister actually,” recalling flashes of red hair chasing you around the Avengers compound, “yeah, she was a force to be reckoned with.”

🥺🥺🥺

“- look different?” you bring your knees closer, wrapping your arms around them, “I was adopted.” “ohhhh.” He drew out the exclamation, taking his sweet time not knowing what else to say.

I wonder what answer he expected haha

“She saved me from the Red Room. Took me under the wing, sent me to High School… God knows how that went.” You laughed recalling the absolute menace you were during your teens. “If there was mischief in school, my name was somehow related. And Nat was always there to get me out of it. Except for that one time I blew up the toilets to rebel against the dress code… said I deserved getting suspended.” The fight you had afterwards… Steve and Tony had to interfere or else you both would have torn each other’s heads off.

Just sibling things🥰

“I must be the last person you want to hear this from, but, know that the hurt you’re feeling right now, y/n,” he gently grasps your hand, “it’s just all the love you have for the person you lost. I don’t want to say it gets easier, but you get better at letting it out over time.”

That was a great answer 🥺

“No, no, Joaquin, we traveled for the entire day. We’re both tired. We can share the bed.” He was too tall to fit on the couch anyways.

Oh so there is just ✨️one bed✨️, I wonder what happens next 👀

Someone works out. You immediately slapped a hand on your mouth realizing you said that out loud. Frozen with embarrassment, you waited to see if he heard that.

Whoops 🤭😅

You huff out, ��I always wanted to hike on that trail, never got the chance.” “Maybe you can come with me after all this is over.” He says coyly, nudging your shoulder, “I can show you around, we can go visit other places, Horseshoe Bend, Havasu Falls…” Y/n… just say it. He can’t be more obvious than this. You smirk, “Joaquin Torres,” he looks at you, his cheeks turning red, “are you asking me out on a date?” “Maybe… if you want to.” He looks at the ceiling, and to your amusement, you realize he was blushing, “And I promise I won’t scam you for money…” you laugh out loud, “I’m always up for hiking the trail, you know, because I work out.”

Ahhh not the call out that he works out 🤭🥰

“I went on tour to Japan, so…” you look into those chocolaty brown eyes again, his face in the sunlight makes his features stand out, your attention going to his lips. “Maybe you could take me with you next time.” He says, holding your hand, caressing the back as he looks at your lips. “Only if you want to.” You whisper, leaning in, praying you weren’t reading this wrong.

I'm sure they both want it 🥰😍

Under the Same Sky

Pairings - Joaquin Torres X fem!Reader (TFATWS AU)

Premise - You have your heart guarded for the longest time. But when you encounter a stranger on the same mission, will you be able to do the same?

Word Count - 4.5K

Warnings: Some strong language, references to Pop Culture, allusions to SMUT

a/n - I wrote this while I was falling in love with someone. This one is for everyone who ever fell in love, hope you guys have a happy ending that you truly deserve <3

“I swear to God Barnes, if this is some kind of dipshit prank you are playing on me, I’ll give your number to that sweet server lady from Yori’s Japanese place and record your introverted ass trying to strike a conversation.” You grumbled into your phone as you locked your door and walked down the stairs of yours (and Buck’s) apartment building.

After making you spill your morning coffee over the couch while telling you about him evading the country, breaking Helmunt Zemo out from prison, going to Madripor and Karli threatening Sam’s family, he had the goddamn audacity to ask for your help with the entire situation.

You were, of course, rushing to Louisiana for Sarah and the kids, because afterwards you get to murder him in cold blood.

“If this wasn’t for Sam’s family in danger, I would not have asked for you. And by the way, I am not an introvert. That’s you. Now hurry up, my guy’s waiting.” his annoyingly calm voice spoke through the phone.

“Is your guy about to be a wrinkly old pervert trying to get high by speed walking?” you almost screamed, reaching the ground floor and pulling open the back door towards the alleyway. The chill air makes you shiver a bit, and you find yourself colliding with a person, “oof” you hear a muffled sound coming from him.

“I’m so sorry- I-“ you began to explain yourself, but the other person spoke up first, “y/n?”

Your hand hovered over the concealed weapon on your waist, “uh, yeah?” you murmur, taking a step back in caution wondering how he knew your name.

“Yeah, I found her.” He speaks into his cell and cuts the call.

Dressed in casual clothes, he held a duffle bag in one hand, his eyebrows raised as he was looking at you. He smiled, waved at you, and Bucky spoke into your ear, “found my guy?”

“This is your guy?” you said pointing at him.

Bucky only laughed, “meet us in Louisiana. Take care y/n.” he cuts the call. Bucky’s guy was not a wrinkly old pervert, but this insanely good-looking man with great posture and a warm smile.

And to your horror, he was hot.

His warm, sun-kissed complexion hinted at his Mexican heritage. His hair added an air of rugged charm and you swore you never saw anyone with eyes so dark brown that drew you in instantly.

“You are…” you extend your hand after shoving your phone in the pocket of your overcoat.

“Lt. Torres.” He grimaced, embarrassed, “Joaquin. Joaquin Torres.” He extends his hand.

You shake his hand and oh god why are his hands so warm!

“Marines?” you ask, trying not to think about his hands.

“Air Force, ma’am.” He says, stepping back for you to get out of the doorway.

“Please, just call me y/n.”

You fumbled with your bag as he raised his eyebrows, “let me take that for you.” He offered.

“Oh no, no it's fine.” You laughed out, and he raised his arms in defeat.

He was walking to the end of the alley beside you, cold air escaping his lips.

Pink, soft, how would they feel on your lips and…

You concentrate on walking, trying not to look at him where his neck met his shoulders and goddammit what is wrong with you y/n can you stop daydreaming about this guy?

What you missed while giving yourself a pep talk… was the smirk on Joaquin’s face.

---

The initial car ride was a bit silent, awkward conversation hanging in the air. But then, like magic, the tension dissolved. You stumbled upon a shared love for Power Rangers and the cartoons of our youth. Suddenly, you were deep in conversation, reminiscing about your childhoods, carefree and filled with the magic of childhood. Turns out he isn’t much older than you, just a two year difference.

His laughter was infectious. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners, his teeth flashing in a wide grin – it was a sound that felt warm and comforting, somehow. You found yourself leaning towards him, captivated by the way his lips curved into a smile, the way the light caught the gold flecks in his eyes. The familiar road seemed to stretch on forever.

Finally when we pulled onto the familiar, deserted road leading to Sam's house, two small figures came into view, standing near the porch.

“Auntie!” Cass and AJ sprinted to you as soon as you stepped out of the car.

“Heyyyy!” you laugh and fall back as they hug you with full force, “ugh, I missed you guys so much.”

“We missed you too!” AJ grinned as he refused to let go of you.

“Who's this?” Cass asked you, pointing towards Joaquin.

Among the excitement of meeting them, you almost forgot the poor guy. Joaquin stood next to the car awkwardly looking at you. You smile and introduce him, “guys this is my friend, Joaquin.”

“Hey.” He waved at Cass and AJ.

Cass looks at him with all seriousness, “Do you play Fortnight?”

Joaquin fumbled, “Yeah. A bit.”

“Cool.” They both replied in unison.

“Okay now let auntie breathe for a minute.” Sarah spoke as she walked towards you wearing an apron, clearly cooking for dinner.

You hugged her tight, meeting the family after so long, “Hey Sarah.”

You look towards Joaquin, how he was laughing with the kids. And then you look at Sarah, your soul sister, and how Bucky had asked you to break the news to her delicately, “Sarah, we need to talk.”

---

Sam and Sarah were your go to destination every summer.

You saw Cass and AJ grow up after the blip, and stayed with them when they needed help. You might not have the same blood, but they were your family.

They have stayed away from all the mayhem, until now.

You three sat down on the kitchen table and told her everything that you knew about the situation.

“Dear lord.” Sarah sighed as she held your hand, “You think these people… they will come here?

“There is a possibility, but Sarah, I swear I won’t let anything happen, okay?” You squeeze her hand, “We’re here for you and the kids.”

Joaquin spoke up, “We have made arrangements just in case things go south, I’d suggest you to be ready to move anytime.”

“Okay.” looking at the kids playing in the living room, AJ laughing as Cass plays on the console, “I can’t let them be hurt again Y/N, they’ve been through so much.”

“I know.” You look at Joaquin, he gives you a smile and nods, a silent acknowledgement of the promise you were making to Sarah.

You will keep them safe, and Joaquin will be there for you.

---

Starry night sky, the cool lakeside breeze, and the slanted roof of the Wilson residence.

You took a deep breath as you closed your eyes.

If this was six years ago, from the same spot you could hear Steve and Sam coming up with ideas to locate Bucky, Natasha and Clint in the backyard fighting over something stupid, Sarah and her late husband on the porch setting up the grill, and Wanda making things fly that made Baby AJ giggle.

Your throat choked up trying not to cry as you recalled Natasha saving you from the hell called Red Room. She bought you up, taught you everything you know, she was the reason you were alive in the first place. Natasha was your sister in every sense, and she was taken away by fate.

Silently crying, you whisper a prayer off into the night.

“Is this seat taken?” you wiped off your eyes as you heard Joaquin.

He was standing on the attic window, two beers in hand. You shrug as he takes a seat next to you, handing you a beer.

“How did you find me?” you ask him.

“I didn’t actually,” he answers, “I just wanted a place to think for a while.” You notice the tension in his shoulders, he was trying too hard to act cool while something was clearly bothering him.

“Spit it out.” you nudge his shoulder with yours.

You shock him with a laugh, looking at the dew on your bottle, “Sounds like someone I used to know.”

“Your ex?” he nudges your shoulder playfully.

You laugh, “My sister actually,” recalling flashes of red hair chasing you around the Avengers compound, “yeah, she was a force to be reckoned with.”

“She passed away a year ago.” You admit it out loud, it felt weird to talk about her in the past tense.

You feel his body go rigid beside you, “I’m sorry, I thought…”

“It’s alright.” You look at him, and smile involuntarily, “Natasha was more of a mother to me than a sister, and I can’t believe I’m saying it out loud but… I miss her.”

He acknowledges you silently. But after some time, you hear it in his voice; the moment it hits him, “Natasha… as in… Natasha Romanoff?”

It made you laugh; his jaw wide open in shock, eyes wide. He looked like his eyes would come out of his head. “I don’t go by Y/N Romanoff, for people to react like that.” You point at him and he closes his mouth.

“How… I didn’t know… but you two-”

“- look different?” you bring your knees closer, wrapping your arms around them, “I was adopted.”

“ohhhh.” He drew out the exclamation, taking his sweet time not knowing what else to say.

“My mom once got a call from the local ER when I was twelve.” He spoke up, looking at the stars and a smile spreading on his face, “I drove my bike off of the road and straight into the canal, and hit my head pretty hard. She was mad as hell and Abuela won’t stop fussing about me. I was grounded for the entire semester, but every night we three would sit in the living room to watch whatever was on Cartoon Network.”

There was sadness laced in every word of his, “That was the last summer I had with her. She passed away a few months later.”

You could not say anything.

You knew exactly how he was feeling right this moment, that empty feeling inside your chest left behind after somebody’s gone. You silently hold his hand, acknowledging the hurt he must be going through.

“Thank you, Joaquin.”

He smiles, taking a sip from his bottle glancing at you. Dark brown pupils looking right into yours.

Damn he’s pretty.

Your heart dropped a beat, a funny feeling in your chest unblurring the next second.

The first thing Natasha and Clint taught you was how to read people. You could tell what was going on in someone’s head just by looking at their subconscious cues. A voice in your head pointing out everything you need to know about them.

It was quite silly to be honest, that voice inside your head that had been quiet for a while now, was screaming at you for not looking at what was right in front of you…

You liked him.

---

“I was not expecting that.” You speak into Sam’s empty room, standing on the doorway with Joaquin.

Cass and AJ had separate rooms, Sarah had hers, and the only empty one was Sam's, which you were to share with Joaquin.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” He says unprompted.

“No, no, Joaquin, we traveled for the entire day. We’re both tired. We can share the bed.” He was too tall to fit on the couch anyways.

He picked his bags and settled in, “You sure?”

“Yeah. It’s fine. No worries.”

Worries, y/n, you’re not doing this out of goodwill. I mean… His arms? Just imagine how they would look wrapped around your-

You let out an internal scream and started unpacking your luggage before you did something scandalous, freshened up in the washroom and returned to the room to see him lying on one side of the bed, his back to you, wearing only sweatpants and a white vest. Your eyes were drawn straight to his biceps, they looked like they belonged to some sculpture in the dim lamplight.

Someone works out.

You immediately slapped a hand on your mouth realizing you said that out loud. Frozen with embarrassment, you waited to see if he heard that.

When you were certain he didn’t, you took your place on the other side, and were immediately knocked out by the exhaustion.

---

Next Day

You woke up to the smell of pancakes and the shouts of AJ and Cass from the backyard. You stretched out, thinking of any tasks you had to do today. You'd helped Sarah pack a go-bag yesterday and set up the alarms around the house. The only task left was to have a look at the Attic. The clutter filled there could be the best hiding spot for anyone.

After sniffing the smell of fresh pancakes for the second time, you couldn't resist any longer. You swung your legs over the side of the bed and padded downstairs.

Sarah and Joaquin were laughing in the kitchen, the sound warm and inviting. He was wearing an Air Force t-shirt over his sweatpants, his hair still damp from his shower, and a lazy smile playing on his lips. Of course he's a morning person, you thought, a pang of envy hitting you.

"Good morning sleepyhead," Sarah called out, her eyes twinkling.

Joaquin looked up, his smile widening as he saw you. You realized, with a jolt, that you were still in your Naruto pajamas, your hair a complete mess. Panic surged through you, but when you saw him smiling at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners, you relaxed slightly.

"Morning," you mumbled, taking a seat at the table.

"Joaquin made these," Sarah announced proudly, placing a plate of golden brown pancakes in front of you. "They're incredible."

"They are," you agreed, already taking a bite. "God bless you, Sarah, these are heavenly."

"Oh, that's all Joaquin," Sarah said, pouring you a tall glass of something. "I just made the milkshakes."

"Milkshakes!" you exclaimed, your eyes widening.

"Chocolate and caramel," she said, placing the glass in front of you. "With extra cream."

"Thank you!" You high-fived her, then turned to Joaquin. "And thank you, for the pancakes."

"Anytime," he said, taking a bite of his own pancake. He met your gaze, a slow, appreciative smile gracing his lips. You swore you saw a glint of something in his eyes – amusement? Admiration? Something more? You blinked, suddenly unsure of yourself.

Is my head playing tricks with me? you wondered, your heart pounding a little faster than it should be.

---

“Can I ask you something?”

“Hmm…”

“Uhh… What's the whole deal with John Walker?” Joaquin asked while fixing a sensor on the attic window.

All afternoon you had been setting up sensors anywhere there was a blind spot. You don’t want to scare Sarah, but your gut would not be satisfied until the house was a fortress.

“It’s the government’s doing to be honest. I have a feeling it’s gonna implode royally and they’ll be doing anything to cover it up.” You looked up from your tablet, “including taking down Walker.”

“Damn.” He stopped, climbing down the window still, “you speak like you’ve witnessed this before.”

You let out a dry laugh, connecting the sensor to your tablet, “I saw the Avengers being torn apart from the inside.”

“Wait,” he tilts his head, his hair bouncing while doing so, “you were with the Avengers during the Sokovia Accords?”

“Yep.” You sit along the wall under the open window, with the sunlight pooled into the attic and cool air rushing in, and pat the space next to you, “I was eight maybe, when Natasha and Clint saved me from being an assassin for The Red Room.” You took a deep breath, “Grew up with them, I stayed mostly on the sidelines until the Civil War. Then it was three years of being blacklisted by the government and whatnot.” he takes a seat right next to you, your shoulders touching.

“Enough about me,” you look at him, “What about you? Where are you from?”

“Born in Mexico, raised in Arizona.” He looks at you, his eyes in the sunlight shining bright.

Can eyes sparkle? I’ve never seen someone’s eyes sparkle before.

“Damn. Grand Canyons, huh.” you smile as you imagined him in hiking gear.

“Yeah, I’ve been there many times and believe me… it takes my breath away every single time.”

You huff out, “I always wanted to hike on that trail, never got the chance.”

“Maybe you can come with me after all this is over.” He says coyly, nudging your shoulder, “I can show you around, we can go visit other places, Horseshoe Bend, Havasu Falls…”

Y/n… just say it. He can’t be more obvious than this.

You smirk, “Joaquin Torres,” he looks at you, his cheeks turning red, “are you asking me out on a date?”

“Maybe… if you want to.” He looks at the ceiling, and to your amusement, you realize he was blushing, “And I promise I won’t scam you for money…” you laugh out loud, “I’m always up for hiking the trail, you know, because I work out.”

You groan in between laughing, “you heard that!”

“Yeah, I heard you checking me out…”

“…I wasn’t checking you out!” you fall back on the wall, “You have nice arms. That’s all.” You try not to smirk, but you see him do so from the corner of your eye.

“That’s all? What about my sensor uploading skills?” he wavered his eyebrows.

“10 by 10. You remain undefeated.”

Silence falls over as you keep stealing glances at each other. It’s only broken when he says, “You’re really pretty by the way.”

You laugh, and nudge his shoulder, “just pretty?”

“…and a Geek, you looked great in those Naruto pajamas…”

You hide your face in your hands but he continues, “Where did you get them? Costco?”

“I went on tour to Japan, so…” you look into those chocolaty brown eyes again, his face in the sunlight makes his features stand out, your attention going to his lips.

“Maybe you could take me with you next time.” He says, holding your hand, caressing the back as he looks at your lips.

“Only if you want to.” You whisper, leaning in, praying you weren’t reading this wrong.

Joaquin took hold of your neck, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. He pulled you closer, your lips meeting in the middle with a soft, exploratory touch. His lips were soft, as you'd imagined, and his hands cradled your face, his thumbs gently stroking your cheekbones. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more. His tongue darted out, tasting you, a low groan rumbling in his chest that sent shivers down your spine. You wanted him to do more, go further, and you pulled back slightly, your eyes searching his.

Before Joaquin could protest, you straddled him, pushing him back against the wall. His eyes widened in surprise, a predatory glint entering them. You crashed your mouth on his, this time with a fierce urgency. The soft exploration of your first kiss quickly escalated into a desperate demand, your bodies pressed together, a primal need igniting within you.

"Fuck... y/n," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips, his fingers digging into your skin. He pulled back slightly, his lips leaving a trail of hot kisses down your neck, his breath fanning against your skin. He found the sweet spot on your pulse, sucking on it with a possessive intensity that made you arch against him. You gasped, clutching at his shirt, your nails digging into the fabric.

He leaned back, his eyes closed, a blissful moan escaping his lips. "God, you taste incredible," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. He kissed you again, this time a slow, deliberate exploration, his tongue tracing the inside of your mouth, mapping every curve.

Every inch of your body seemed to ignite by his touch, time melting away. There was only him, his hands roaming over your body, his lips devouring yours, and the intoxicating feeling of desire that consumed you both.

High Pitched and Grating, a sensor alarm rang through the attic.

You retreat in shock, like two deer caught in headlights, and Joaquin grabs the tablet and sees where this was happening.

Blood drained from his face as you witnessed at least four flag smashers moving towards the Wilson residence, guns armed, maybe a mile away.

He gets up, “East side?” grabbing the tablet and locking the windows.

“I’ll get Sarah.” You reply, already on your feet rushing downstairs.

---

"Halt," Lucas whispered, his voice a low growl in the pre-dawn darkness. The team crouched low, their figures mere shadows against the backdrop of the dense forest. Sam Wilson's house loomed ahead, a beacon of normalcy in the encroaching gloom.

"I see only two people inside," Matt reported, his voice a whisper cutting through the silence. "No kids." He checked the thermal scanners, the infrared images flickering on his visor.

Artie, his face pale in the moonlight, grabbed Lucas's shoulder. "Karli didn't say anything about kids."

"She told us to bring them alive," Lucas reminded him, his eyes fixed on the house. "And they need to be unharmed for negotiation."

Nadia shifted uncomfortably, her hand tightening around the grip of her revolver. "I don't like this," she muttered, her voice laced with unease. "I didn't agree to harm any kids."

Lucas turned to her, his gaze sharp. "Nadia!" he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "We're doing this. One way or the other. Stop whining and get to work."

He took a deep breath, the metallic scent intensifying. "One World..." he began, his voice echoing in the stillness.

"One people," his team responded in unison, their voices a low, guttural chant.

With a silent, coordinated movement, they emerged from the shadows, their figures gliding towards the Wilson residence, the air thick with anticipation and a chilling sense of foreboding.

---

"Go, go, go!" you barked, adrenaline surging through you. You snatched Sarah's bag, your fingers brushing against the cool metal of the handgun inside. You grabbed AJ's hand, his small fingers clutching yours tightly, and ushered them towards the waiting car.

Cass and Sarah were already running, their figures mere shadows against the encroaching twilight. You threw the bags in the backseat, your movements a blur, then helped Cass and AJ climb in.

Sarah slid behind the wheel, her face pale. "Y/n, what are you doing?!" she gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"I have to stay here," you said, your voice firm. "Make sure they don't follow you." You shoved your Glock into Sarah's hand.

A roar from inside the house cut through the tension. "Y/n! They're here!" Joaquin's voice, amplified by the sudden silence, echoed through the air.

"Sarah, I promise I'll be fine," you said, your gaze locked with Cass's in the rearview mirror. Tears were streaming down her face, but she nodded, her small frame trembling. "You have to go." You shoved your tablet into her hands, a desperate plea in your eyes. "Remember what I told you earlier. You'll be safe here."

"Sarah, go!" you screamed, your voice hoarse.

You watched as the car lurched forward, disappearing down the dirt road that snaked towards the water. A beep on your watch confirmed her location, a fleeting sense of relief washing over you.

Phase One. Over.

Phase Two. Let's go.

You sprinted through the back door, the house suddenly feeling eerily silent. Joaquin was already there, a grim set to his jaw. He was clad in his SHIELD armor, the sleek black material gleaming in the dim light. Guns and your emergency bag lay scattered across the kitchen table, a grim testament to the impending battle. You stole a glance at the tablet, its screen flickering with life as it ran facial recognition on the figures outside.

"Ready?" you asked, your voice a low growl, as you slipped on the bulletproof vest and began loading the magazines.

"Yeah," Joaquin replied, his eyes scanning the room, assessing the situation.

You looked out the window, the setting sun casting long, eerie shadows across the yard. "Let's hope Sam doesn't sue us for destroying his house," you muttered.

A/N - Thank you everyone for sticking with me till the end of this fic! if you liked it please let me know through the asks and the comments. Love y'all, Take Care!

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wendichester · 1 day ago

Note

Hello, hello, my dearest~! I hope this finds you well, and you’ve got good things going on in your life! I love all of your writings and drabbles and works, and your notifications during my day always make me smile! 💜

May I request a Dean X reader x Sam (no wincest, obvs) piece where they’re each trying to push the reader to be with the other brother because they don’t think they can make the reader happy, but the reader is like, “you guys are idiots if you can’t see how happy BOTH of you make me.” Can you tell that I struggle to ever fully decide and just pick one of them? lol appreciate you💜 please keep being amazing!

༘ ⋆｡˚three's a charm,

summary. dean wants you to be with sam. sam wants you to be with dean. you want both.

pairing. dean winchester x reader x sam winchester

wordcount. 715

notes. thank you so so much for requesting lovely! you're the best 🩷

It starts as a subtle thing—sideways glances, hesitations that weren’t there before, moments where one of them will open his mouth to say something and then stop, like he’s biting back words.

And it’s driving you insane.

Dean and Sam Winchester are some of the smartest, most capable people you’ve ever met, but God, are they both complete idiots when it comes to this.

You know they love you. You know because it’s in the way Sam always makes sure you eat something halfway decent, even in the middle of a hunt, and how Dean always insists on checking the locks twice before bed when you’re around. You know because of the way they touch you—Sam’s careful reverence, Dean’s protective warmth—because of the way they look at you when they think you’re not watching.

But lately? Lately, they’ve been acting weird.

It starts with Dean.

“You know,” he says one night, sprawled out on the motel bed next to you, staring at the ceiling like it holds all the answers to the universe. “Sam’s a good guy.”

You blink at him. “No shit, Sherlock.”

Dean huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “I mean, like… real good. Smart, responsible, tall.” He cuts his eyes toward you. “You like tall, right?”

Your brows knit. “I mean, I guess—”

“You should, uh… you should think about him. Y’know. That way.”

You roll onto your side, propping yourself up on your elbow. “Dean.”

“What?”

“You do realize I’m sleeping with both of you, right?”

Dean shrugs, like he’s suddenly very interested in the loose thread on his sleeve. “Yeah, well. Maybe you should—” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Maybe you should pick the guy who can actually give you what you deserve.”

You stare at him. “Dean.”

He won’t look at you. “I’m just saying.”

You’re about to rip him a new one, but before you can, the motel door opens and in walks Sam, looking fresh out of the shower, towel slung around his neck.

And that’s when it happens again.

“I was thinking,” Sam starts, running the towel through his damp hair, “Dean’s really good for you.”

You blink. “Are you kidding me?”

Dean snorts. “Right back atcha, Sammy.”

Sam frowns. “I’m serious. He… he makes you laugh. Keeps things light. I know I can be a lot sometimes.” His voice dips, eyes dropping like he’s afraid of what he’s saying. “I don’t want to weigh you down.”

Dean scoffs. “Oh, come on, man.”

“What?” Sam shrugs. “It’s true.”

You look between them—these two idiots—and let out a loud, exasperated groan.

“Oh my God,” you say, flopping onto your back dramatically. “You’re both so stupid.”

Dean lifts a brow. “Excuse me?”

You sit up, crossing your arms. “Do you seriously think I want to be with just one of you?”

Sam hesitates. “Well, I mean—”

“No,” you cut in. “You don’t mean. Because if you did, you’d realize how insanely happy I am with both of you.” You look between them, making sure they get it. “Not just Dean. Not just Sam. Both. Of. You.”

Silence.

Dean scratches the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish. “You sure? ‘Cause—”

“I love you,” you say firmly, looking at him. Then you turn to Sam. “And you. Equally. Differently, but equally. You both make me happy. You both make me feel safe. I don’t want just one of you—I want this. Us.”

The tension in the room shifts. Dean glances at Sam. Sam glances at Dean. And then—

“Well, shit,” Dean breathes, rubbing a hand over his face. “Guess we are a couple of morons.”

Sam exhales a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah,” he admits. “I think we are.”

You sigh, shaking your head at them. “Took you long enough.”

Dean smirks. “So, uh… does that mean we can stop all the awkward pushing-you-away crap?”

“Yes,” you deadpan.

Sam chuckles, moving toward the bed, placing a hand on your knee. “And you’re really, really happy?”

You reach for his hand, squeezing it. “Yeah, Sammy. I really, really am.”

Dean hums, shifting closer too, his palm settling against the small of your back. “Well, in that case,” he says, grinning, “I say we make up for lost time.”

And who are you to argue with that?

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @funkenniffler ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @lovewolfspirit ⋆ @kayleighwinchester ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @cursednevermore ⋆ @mrs-pondwater19 ⋆ @onelonelybitch ⋆ @myceliumsunshine ⋆ @americanvenom13 ⋆ @iluvdeanwinchester ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @devilslittlehelper ⋆ @cloverleaf20 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @beakaleak32 ⋆ @bamboobooshark ⋆ @ocelotlist51 ⋆ @lelapine ⋆ @pwin098 ⋆ @lacysretribution ⋆ @globetrotter28 ( continues in the comments )

#dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader x sam winchester #dean winchester x you x sam winchester #dean winchester fluff #sam winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #sam winchester fic #supernatural #.docx #.req

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sillysoliloquyshits · 3 days ago

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I watched a few movie reviews on Nezha 2 and one of them on two white guys (iirc) doing a podcast on their surface thoughts on the movie kinda threw me off as one of them said 'one thing that was off-putting to me was a lot of onscreen crying' or something like that. Which is super off-putting to me actually.

I mean what do you mean? Your little brother or mother or wife just died in front of your eyes what do you mean you should not cry and it's not a natural response? Ao Bing cried into his dad at the start as he felt so awful for letting his dad down and his buddy nearly died if he didn't intervene. Ne Zha cried so hard when he saw his parents again because he really thought they were gone. Both kids are three years old for the love of God. And Shen Gong Bao is a literal family man he has a soft spot for his little brother of course when he died trying to escape he had to cry so much and to be honest, I've watched videos of how the animation team spent a long time animating and planning the crying scene for him to ensure it's perfect. The creative team has spent so long to ensure every detail to actually ensure the whole story and every shot and scene will have a lasting emotional impact to touch the audience.

And another thing that's also respectable is how the team and the story in general is very committed to fleshing out the characters and ensuring they are all very relevant to the plot and have their own personal stories in a sequel, which is not often seen nowadays given how hard it is to make a better sequel (but that's another story and post I digress, but anyway-)

What I'm trying to say is that we all need more stories of boys openly crying. The only other movies off the top of my head I can think that has boys openly crying are maybe Coco, or Luca and maybe HTTYD, and I feel Nezha 2 has done a great job in showing the different sides of healthy masculinity, in how it's okay for boys to ugly cry and for dads to be tough on the exterior while also being very caring and gentle to their own sons, and for close brotherhood bonds being a soft side of characters. And it also dispels a stereotype in how Asians are often stoic and not as emotional as westerners, as while a lot of Chinese and Asians are quite stoic, there are plenty of people who see themselves in Ao Bing and Ne Zha and etc.

And I also saw a post earlier on how Ne Zha and Ao Bing defy societal rules and societal expectations respectively, with Ao Bing doing so by being outwardly feminine in looks and being elegant while precise and aggressive in his attacks and still being able to be confident in his self, while Ne Zha has been insecure in his own looks until the end. And personally I feel the movie is a great place for kids and boys especially to learn that masculinity can be anything they can define, like how one can be more confident like Ao Bing even when he's not traditionally masculine, while knowing it's okay to be insecure and that they can overcome judgements in society.

And with their friendship and loyalty to each other (and possibly *cough* *gay* *it's ok if you don't ship them*), it also teaches boys that male friendships can be very close knit where they can be vulnerable to one another, like how Nezha soon learnt to be vulnerable around Ao Bing and how Ao Bing learnt to follow his heart through Ne Zha's influence. Boys can learn from one another and become emotionally stronger together like it's not just a girls thing yay-

So yeah this is another long ramble but tldr again:

Nezha 2 is a fantastic movie on healthy masculinity and we need more movies like this for boys especially to learn that expressing strong emotions are very healthy and essential in being a person. And we need to punch toxic masculinity to death the way Lu Tong and He Tong did at the end to the bald bitch so-

#nezha #nezha 2 #nezha thoughts #哪吒 #哪吒2 #哪吒之魔童闹海 #ao bing #ao guang #shen gongbao #oubing #藕饼 #Nezha meta #healthy masculinity

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maplleaf · 3 days ago

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Time

Anaxa x reader

Tags: angst, sweetbitter

Note: Hello kitty pajamas girl or goth femboy? Hmm decisions decisions. The goth femboy is one of the...you know, shit's SPICY .

Jokes aside, i love him. Idc if he gets nerved 100 times, i will roll for him and his lc

The words most people first know about a certain sage of the Grove is to call him by his full name of Anaxagoras, even so no one seems to take it seriously. The man himself doesn't even correct people most of the time.

So the question remained, why even bother telling people to call him by his full name?

If they ask Tribbie, she'll smile and tell them to ask him themselves. If they ask any of the chrysos heirs, they'll tell them to ask Tribbie. Don't even bother asking Lady Aglea.

If someone asked him that head on, he'll scoff and shove away the question. Then he'll see those people leave disappointed before letting out a sigh as a memory comes to mind.

"Anaxagoras."

The young student looked at the other, who suddenly called his name. Both of you were shaded under the thick and heavy leaves, only traces of light managed to hit your face, but leaving him completely in the dark.

Back then, everything was simpler. The biggest worry he had was the next test. He remembered clearly reading a book you recommended to him, even if it's fiction.

"Why do people not call you by that?" you asked, leaning back against the thick branch.

Anaxa's brows furrowed in confusion, "have you heard me getting called by a different name?"

A groan escaped your throat, "That's not what i meant." You adjusted your seating, letting your hair fall messily in front of your face and blocking your eyes. "They call you Anaxa."

The other still held a confused expression, even his eyes squinted for a moment. "Because that's my name," he answered before adding with a deadpan tone, "Or are you that braindead you do not know the definition of a name...?"

You scoffed, kicking his crossed legs. "Asshole," a satisfied smile crept its way into his lips as he heard you.

"I mean, Anaxagoras is such a cool name. Like," he saw you made a grand gesture wigh your hand, looking at him swith stars in your eyes. "Anaxagoras! A genius in Amphoreus!" You then deflated, and your gesture became sluggish. "Anaxa.... a genius of Amphoreus..."

He saw your smile widen as you laughed. "See, it's so much better. You should capitalize on it."

Anaxa listened and watched your antics closely. It's strange, truly. How could a person wreck his usual habits so easily? He knows he has a test tomorrow morning, but here you are in the hidden depths of the Groves with a novel in his lap just because you said it was good.

"Whatever," he scoffed. Going back into his literature.

Ever since then, you started calling him by his full name. Even asking others to do the same. Anaxa didn't care much since people were usually hesitant to even talk to him, making it hard to offend him with a simple thing like names.

As more time passed, and his achievements rose. There would be this one scholar beside him, always keeping him grounded.

Anaxa, whilst he does sometimes get annoyed by the antics, likes that simplicity. He had to deal with prophecies, gods, and powers uncomprehended by mankind; but there was this aspect of life that remained the same. That remained simple.

He remembered asking you once. It was right after meeting Aglea and having a talk about the prophecies.

The leaves shaded him completely, in contrast to you, who was basking in the sunlight. He held a blank book in hand, the pencil creating strokes that slowly resembled a person.

In the middle of the quietness, he asked; "In this world of Titans and Demigods, what are you most scared of?"

He knew compared to him. Objectively, you were an ant in history. You're not a chrysos heir, and you had no connection to the Titans. Your achievements were recorded within the Groves archives, but nothing that would make non-scholars recognize your name.

With your simplicity comes uncertainty.

He heard you humming before answering; "Time."

Anaxa stopped his movement, before locking eyes with you. The bustling sound of the Grove sounding louder for a moment, but your voice sounding clear amidst it all.

"I'm scared the longer i live, the more i will forget. That either the world forget me wholely or i will forget everything," you answered further before chuckling. "Just the concept of it all feels so terrifying."

Anaxa subconsciously analyzed your expression. It held fear but also hope. He saw your eyes twinkle for a moment before looking up at him.

A smile still on your face as you stated. "That's why, promise you won't forget me, Mr. Anaxagoras the Demigod."

Anaxa remembered thinking back on your statement and nodding. He shrugged away that uneasiness in him; "i promise."

Your hand then lowered his book, seeing the results. A sketch of your face in charcoal pencil, every detail perfectly captured. "You sure this is for an assignment? Could've passed off as a modeling debut for me."

Anaxa rolled his eyes, snatching the book back and smacking your head lightly with it. "As if anyone would like that."

He heard you scoff, rubbing the spot but holding a wide smile. "You still love me, Anaxagoras."

Anaxa didn't reply at that.

When he heard his fate was 'incomplete', he had chalked it off as being related to his experience with death. But that day, a new revelation hits him.

'It was unpreventable.'

'There was nothing you could've done.'

'It was an accident no one foresaw.'

The more he heard those words, the more he felt his sanity slipping with each syllable they uttered. He was wary when you were assigned an assignment regarding the Time Titan. He was even more concerned when he was met with silence during the day of your supposed return.

He took a few moments to process after Tribbie had checked up on your research site per his request, only to see her empty-handed with a sorrowful expression.

At that second, the numbness of death felt like relief. An indescribable feeling of heaviness weighed down in his chest as realization sunk in, and all he could do was take it with no way of escaping.

There was the urge to scream, cry; anything. But he couldn't, too frozen to react.

He felt his heart and soul being split apart in two, a pain deep within him but at the same time feeling numb in disbelief. A feeling of... regret?

There were so many things to do, but he didn't. All in favor of what? His ego, pride, in order to find the right time?

His mind went back to Aglea's words after his meeting with her that day. This path isn't meant for the faint-hearted, that every Chrysos Heir will go through hell and back.

There were ways this could've been prevented. He could've done something. Even if it was an accident, it's by all means not an excuse for death.

Tribbie could recall the distraught hidden behind his empty expression. "If you need something... we're here for you."

Anaxa, despite his mind being suddenly broken into pieces, replied. "Can you bring them back?"

Her silence was enough for him.

To say a part of him died that day was an understatement. For a moment, his beliefs shook as he thought on his prophecy.

The thought of you being in his prophecy as the reason for his 'incompleteness' brought him comfort for a moment. Maybe a part of him wanted to believe that this really was out of his hands. But he shoved that thought down deep, the same way he chose to shove any guilt he could.

Anaxa didn't want your legacy to be tainted with his name, so he chose to only speak of your achievements.

Even as hundreds of years passed. He couldn't bring himself to forget any part about you. Your mannerisms and likeness were slowly getting picked up by him like a ritual.

Maybe that way, it was like you were still here. Just not with him. He was like a desperate man adjusting his life just to feel a semblance of your presence. Whether it'll be your naming habits, the books you read, your favorite spots, anything just to make it bearable.

Even so, even if he still insists on others to do it, knowing you were the only person who willingly does it brought him... comfort.

"Don't call me Anaxa, call me by my full name. Anaxagoras."

The last habit he picked up is one he insisted on doing himself.

If you're looking for the professor, you might find him sitting under the leaves that shaded him. A blank notebook in hand as his pencil sketches out your portrait. Another habit he picked up is his way of remembering your features. Something he refused to let happen years or even decades after.

That's what he thought, at least. A horrifying realization entered his mind as his pencil stopped in place.

"What did their eyes look like?"

#hsr #anaxa x reader #honkai starrail #hsr x gn reader #anaxa #anaxa hsr #anaxa x male reader #anaxa x gn reader #amphoreus #☆works #hsr anaxa #hsr x male reader #anaxagoras #anaxagoras x reader

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ere-the-sun-rises · 1 day ago

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Y'know, my sister reads a lot of fantasy and romantasy books written by men and women and I've noticed a few things.

1 - "Fairy smut". What the fuck does this mean? What the fuck are you referring to here? What are the conditions that make it so? Because otherwise it just sounds derogatory to an outsider like me.

My sister read a series authored by a man (not GoT) that had copious - arguably even gratuitous - amounts of sex it in. Graphic sex, both consentual and not. Sex that arguably did not serve the plot or mean anything to the character. It didn't build depth or attachment or do worldbuilding - it was just there. The woman the MC wound up with was underdeveloped and kinda inane, but he still got one despite eschewing women's company most of the series and being hostile to any he came across. Is that not "fairy smut" too? It had lots of sex in a fantasy world - does that not count or something? Was it the rape and/or sexual coersion that disqualifies it? Because more than one of the "booktok" romantasy books have that too.

And arguably, all the sex that happens in romantasy books DIRECTLY serves the plot of the book. That's it's primary objective. So, checkmate, I guess.

2 - Content warnings. I've noticed women authors have started to put little spoiler-free warnings flagging things like rape or sexual abuse content while other "regular fantasy" books don't.

This isn't a complaint so much as a curious observation. Perhaps these women have fanfic roots or realize that getting jumpscared by a graphic rape scene is not very fun. (That is a personal experience - was reading a book about dragon riding and literally out of nowhere the MC got graphically and violently raped by an otherwise inconsequential character. Afterwards, the book moved on like it hadn't happened and I was so upset I never finished it.) I actually quite like those little notes. Maybe more authors should do it, but I also understand why they might not.

3 - "Romantasy". What? Why? It's just fucking Fantasy, babes. I was always under the impression that Romance books were real-world AUs, be it present or historical (ei. regency, medieval, etc.) and Fantasy books were defined by elements of supernatural/creatures/other humanoid species/taking place Not Here. If a book has a fantasy setting, it's a fantasy book. Does that make sense?

And don't get me wrong - I understand that there is genre crossover. I'm not saying that's bad or wrong or non-existent. My point is that labelling it separately demeans it. Kind of like when Sci-Fi disinherited the dystopia!AU progenitors that formed YA.

[Side Tangent] Let's be real here, dystopia!AUs are Sci-Fi. Halo: SILENT STORM and The Hunger Games are both about a 15 year old forced into a do-or-die situation where failure and/or disobedience can get them killed and their whole home annihilated. Never thought Master Chief and Katniss Everdeen might have something in common, huh?

4 - I think men should read fantasy romance more, actually.

A lot of men whine about not having access to the way women think or want to be wooed. Well sweetheart, work your way around a few of these books and you'll have a better idea. Just be aware that some of the stuff you'll encounter is kink shit (ei. anything about being "tamed" is kink fr fr - she wants to be taken care of without having to ask for it and by god does that get her off).

Also, it will improve your dirty talk. Ever wonder why women can summon up some of the nastiest, filthiest dirty talk you've ever heard? Because they read and/or write it. Who knows, maybe you'll discover something about yourself too. After all, porn only shows you how it looks, it doesn't describe how it feels.

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aainiouu · 2 days ago

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A tethered mind free from the lies

Hen Wilson loves Evan Buckley, it’s just a fact. He is like a little brother to her and she just… loves him. Fiercely. She wants to know things that go on in his life, he wants to hear stuff and likes when Buck asks for her advice. Sure she teases him and gives him grief, but the bottom line is that there is a little Hen wouldn’t do for Buck.

But this? This is something she would have never imagined she would have to and never wanted to do.

“Tommy! You have to stay awake!” Hen yells and Tommy’s glassy eyes turn to her. The helicopter is a flaming husk of debris a safe distance away and Hen is aching all over and the blood is seeping somewhere on her scalp but somehow Tommy had made sure their crash landing didn’t hurt her too badly.

And then had the absolute audacity to demand Hen to leave him there. No way. She wasn’t planning to do that.

The concerning thing is that even if Hen did get Tommy out the situation is not good. In fact it’s possibly catastrophic, but it’s dark and even though Hen patched Tommy up to the best of her ability, it might not be enough.

But if it’s not enough she has to be the one to tell Buck so Hen isn’t giving up anytime soon. Not that she would anyway. Everybody always forgets that Tommy was her and Chim’s friend first.

“This isn’t looking too good, Hen,” Tommy coughs out, “My dad always said I would get myself killed, it seems like he got his wish”

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy, you’re not dying here.” Hen grits out and puts on more fabric around the stick (a branch really) poking out Tommy’s abdomen. Hen doesn’t know how Tommy manages it but the look and the scoff he gives her tell exactly how little he believes that.

“Hen, you have to tell Evan..” Tommy starts but Hen shuts him up with a look.

“I’m not telling the lover boy anything because you are going to tell him yourself.” Hen can feel the panic clawing up her throat but she needs to say on top of it. Tommy needs to survive this.

“No, please, Hen, I need to..” Tommy swallows and for Hen’s horror his eyes fill up tears. “I need him to know. I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone as much as I love Evan.”

Hen takes Tommy’s hand which is shaking, clammy and covered with blood. Tommy’s breath is shaking too and Hen feels herself tear up as well.

“Tell me about your Evan, Tommy,” she says and gently swipes Tommy’s hair from his forehead. Tommy smiles and looks at the sky. The fire paints his features strong, sharp but the look on his face makes him look boyish somehow. Tommy is a very handsome man, even crying and covered with blood.

“Evan, is, god, he showed me what could be. I never… I never thought I would get that, I still don’t not really, not the way we keep… we keep messing it up. But he showed me what could be.”

Hen smiles and keeps the pressure on Tommy’s wound, it’s still bleeding sluggishly, but the pulse she can feel on Tommy’s wrist is still going pleasantly strong.

”He’s the one I didn’t see coming, god, someone so light, so good, so gorgeous, so adorable, I didn’t know they made them like that.”

Hen can help but snort and Tommy somehow manages to pinch her hand slightly.

“He has so much life in him, so much love. He is simultaneously so giving with it, it scares me but also so careful on how it is received, it kills me.” Tommy turns his gaze back to her and the sheer adoration on Tommy’s face makes it hard to look away. “I don’t deserve it, I never have but god how I wish… I wish I could. I’ve never met anyone like him, I doubt there is anyone like him to meet. Not to me.”

“You do deserve it, Tommy.” Hen says quietly and the disbelieving laugh Tommy let’s out makes her heart hurt, “You do. Hell, don’t believe me, but believe Buck. The boy is crazy about you. If I let you die here, he’s never going to forgive me.”

“He will, Hen, he would never hold a grudge.”

“He won’t because I’m not letting you die.”

Tommy’s hmms and coughs wetly.

“I’m cold, Hen, and it’s not really hurting anymore and we both know it’s not a good sign.” Tommy grunts. “God, I would give everything to feel Evan’s arms around me right now, he’s like a furnace, a big, gorgeous, clingy furnace. I never felt cold sleeping with him.”

Hen takes off her jacket and lays it on the top of Tommy.

“I just want to see him again, I want to tell him…I—”

Tommy’s eyes slip closed and at the same moment a ray of light reaches them and someone runs towards them. Someone big, not careful, someone shouting their names on the top of their lungs, voice hoarse, panicked and wet.

It’s Buck.

Tommy’s pulse gets weaker and then it’s gone.

#bucktommy #hen and tommy #it’s a helicopter crash #there is not proper ending for this one #but Tommy DOES NOT die #EVER #even though it ends a bit hairy #wrote this today on my mandatory office day today #time well spent #my stuff #911 spoilers

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r-memberme · 2 days ago

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unraveled | k.m

⎯⎯"I have waited centuries," he murmurs, voice roughened by a hint of feral want. "I can wait a little longer."

warnings: smut, 18+, aftercare

part I part II

The air between you is thick—charged, electric, pulsing with something unholy. It wraps around you both, an invisible tether pulling you further, deeper, until the only thing that exists is the searing press of his body against yours.

Klaus is everywhere—his lips at your throat, his breath hot against your skin, his hands gripping your thighs with a force just shy of bruising. He is devouring you, undoing you thread by thread, and you can do nothing but let him.

Because this is what you wanted. All day, you had teased and tested, whispered wicked things just to see if he would snap. And now—God—he has.

He presses you harder against the wall, the weight of him anchoring you in place as his lips descend, trailing fire along your collarbone, the sharp line of your jaw. His breath is uneven, ragged, desperate.

“I should make you beg,” he mutters, voice thick, dark, brimming with something feral. “Make you suffer as I have.”

A shiver licks down your spine. “Then why don’t you?”

His grip tightens. His fingers flex against your hips, against the fabric barely separating his skin from yours. He could ripit, you know. Tear it from you like it offends him. And maybe it does.

“You are infuriating,” he growls, dragging his teeth along the sensitive spot just beneath your ear.

You shudder, tilting your head, inviting him closer, deeper. “And yet,” you murmur, voice a breathy whisper, “you loveit.”

Klaus laughs—a dark, wrecked sound that vibrates through his chest, through you.

“Infuriating,” he repeats, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against your throat. “Impossible.” Another kiss. “Mine.”

The word is a brand. A claim.

And God help you, but you want to be ruined by it.

His hands move before you can respond, gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head, holding you there as he drinks you in.

He watches you like a man possessed—like he is memorizing every ragged breath, every flushed inch of your skin, every flicker of hunger in your eyes.

And then, voice low, dangerous, he gives you a choice.

“Tell me, love,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours but never quite giving in. “Do you surrender?”

Your breath hitches. Your heart pounds.

And with a slow, wicked smile, you whisper—

“Make me.”

Something snaps.

And this time, he does not hold back.

༊*·˚

The shift is almost imperceptible—a breath caught between anticipation and surrender. Klaus lingers, his lips brushing against yours without truly claiming them, a phantom touch designed to unravel you thread by thread. His breath fans warm over your mouth, his fingers tightening around your wrists, holding you there, holding you still, as if he means to savor the moment before the fall.

“You are cruel,” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement, with hunger barely restrained. “All this time spent pushing, teasing—” His thumb grazes the inside of your wrist, a slow, deliberate stroke against the delicate thrum of your pulse. “And yet, now that I have you here, you tremble.”

You do. Not from fear, never from fear, but from the unbearable weight of this moment, from the knowledge that you have spent all day setting the fire and now, at last, it is spreading.

Still, you tilt your chin higher, meeting his gaze with a flicker of defiance. “Perhaps I like the anticipation.”

A smirk, a low hum of approval. “Do you, now?”

His lips find your jaw, barely grazing the skin before retreating. Then again, lower this time, the ghost of a kiss beneath your ear, then lower still—just the faintest brush along your throat, a path of phantom touches, of promises unspoken. Your breath hitches, your body straining toward his despite itself, despite the treacherous thrill of waiting, waiting, waiting—

He chuckles, dark and knowing, pleased by your reaction. “I wonder,” he muses, words pressed into your skin, “how long you can endure this game you so cleverly started.”

His grip loosens—not a release, but an invitation. A dare.

And you? You take it.

You twist your hands free, not to escape, but to tangle your fingers into his curls, to tug just hard enough that he exhales sharply, his control cracking at the edges. His eyes meet yours, something dangerous glinting within them, something that says he was right—you are trembling, anticipation coursing through you like wildfire.

And then—

His fingers skim the line of your spine, featherlight, a whisper of touch that leaves heat in its wake. Down, then up again, slow and torturous, until his palm finally settles at the small of your back, pressing you flush against him.

The sharp intake of your breath is met with a satisfied smirk.

“Ah,” Klaus murmurs, eyes half-lidded, voice an intimate, velvet thing. “There you are.”

His nose brushes yours, and for a moment, the world stills—nothing but breath, heat, the steady, insistent drum of your heartbeat.

It is slow. It is teasing. It is unbearable.

And when, at last, he kisses you, it is not desperate, nor rushed. It is a slow unraveling, a steady descent into something inevitable. A lesson in patience. A reminder that he is in no hurry—because the night is long, and so is his hunger for you.

༊*·˚

His kiss is a slow, lingering thing—a contradiction to the wildfire simmering beneath his skin. He takes his time, tasting you, unraveling you, ensuring that every brush of his lips against yours leaves a mark far deeper than anything hurried or desperate ever could.

The pressure of his hands changes, shifting from a grip meant to hold to one meant to explore. His fingers trace the curve of your back, pressing, memorizing, learning every delicate rise and dip. He moves with unhurried intent, savoring the way your breath shudders against his mouth, the way your fingers curl tighter into his hair as if to keep him there, as if letting go might break the spell.

A slow, languid sweep of his lips along your jaw, tracing the delicate curve before descending—softer now, more deliberate—over the frantic pulse fluttering at your throat. He lingers there, breath hot, teasing, a whisper of warmth against your skin.

"You tremble so sweetly," he murmurs, his voice like smoke and embers, dark and molten, rich with satisfaction. His lips part just slightly, the ghost of a touch, a promise left unfulfilled. "Tell me, love—" the words rumble low, reverberating through you, "—is it anticipation, or something far more sinful?"

You don't answer—not with words. Instead, you arch, barely perceptible, but he notices. Of course he does. A slow smirk curves against your throat before his lips part, pressing a single, open-mouthed kiss against your pulse.

Then another.

And another.

His hands shift lower, his touch reverent, slow. He is mapping you, as though he has all the time in the world. As if he intends to commit every shiver, every sigh, every delicious, drawn-out moment to memory.

"Tell me," he breathes, nosing along the hollow of your throat, trailing the words like a secret. "Did you think I would break so easily?"

Your lips part, a reply forming, but he steals it before you can speak—his mouth catching yours once more, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in a slow, teasing bite.

A sound escapes you, a soft, breathless thing, and his grip tightens. His control is iron-clad, but it is thinning, worn down by every twitch of your fingers against his scalp, every shallow breath, every flicker of heat that passes between you.

But still, he does not rush.

"I have waited centuries," he murmurs, voice roughened by a hint of feral want. "I can wait a little longer."

And then, with a smirk that makes your pulse flutter, he sinks to his knees.

"What—?"

You startle, confused, but then his hands find the hem of your dress and tug, and you gasp.

The fabric drags higher, exposing the bare expanse of your legs, the delicate lace that stretches across your hips. And then, with a low, sinful laugh, he presses his mouth to your skin, and all thoughts of protest die.

He is deliberate, agonizingly so. He starts at the top, lips grazing the hollow of your hip, and then slowly, deliberately, works his way down. Every inch of skin is marked, claimed, and when, at last, he reaches the lace, he pauses.

A shuddering breath, a momentary break in the haze, and then his eyes lift, finding yours. They burn, brimming with desire, with something dark and untamed and utterly primal.

"Do you surrender?"

There is a challenge in the words, a dare.

A choice.

You swallow, the air between you heavy, electric. You could say yes. You could end this, strip away the last lingering thread of his control. You could.

But—

"Not yet."

Klaus grins, a slow, wicked thing. "Not yet."

Then, with a final, lingering kiss against your inner thigh, he drags his tongue higher, over the lace, and you whimper.

He presses against you, mouth open, a slow, deliberate drag that makes your knees weak.

"Klaus—"

His teeth catch the lace, tugging, pulling the fabric aside. You are slick, wet, desperate for his touch, and he laughs—a low, breathless sound that makes your entire body burn.

"Patience, love," he breathes, the warmth of his words fanning over you, making your hips jerk. "Patience."

"Please—"

You aren't sure what you're asking for. Release. Relief. Him. But it doesn't matter—the second the word escapes, Klaus' eyes flash, and the last threads of his self-control snap.

"Fuck," he breathes, and then, without warning, his mouth is on you.

The first touch of his tongue is electric. A jolt that makes you gasp, that makes your fingers fist tighter into his hair. He groans at the sensation, the sound reverberating through you, a delicious vibration that has your entire body shaking.

And still, he does not rush.

This time, the kiss is unhurried, a slow drag of his tongue over the seam of you, tasting, teasing. His hands press higher, fingers digging into your hips, the curve of your ass, holding you steady as he licks into you.

You whimper, hips arching, grinding shamelessly against his mouth. He lets you, the grip on your hips tightening, encouraging. And then, with a low hum of approval, his lips close around your clit, and suck.

Your head tips back, a choked moan escaping, a desperate, needy sound that makes him laugh.

"I can feel how much you want me," he rasps, breath ghosting over the slick mess of you. "Your body, so desperate for my touch."

"Klaus, I—"

He sucks again, tongue swirling, and your words die in a low, broken whine.

"So beautiful, like this," he continues, voice thick with awe, with desire. "And so very, very mine."

The words send a bolt of heat straight through you. The possessiveness, the sheer depth of his want, is almost too much.

Almost.

He presses closer, tongue circling, teasing. You can't help it—your grip on his hair tightens, urging him closer, deeper, and Klaus growls.

"You are impatient."

"Please—"

His teeth drag along the lace, his grip flexing, and then—

A sharp tug, and the fabric gives way, the thin scrap falling to the floor in ruins.

You gasp, hips arching, and Klaus swears.

"So fucking perfect."

He doesn't hesitate, doesn't give you time to prepare. He is ravenous, devouring, his mouth moving against you in a way that has your vision going dark, has your knees buckling, has every thought in your head shattering.

His touch is relentless, unwavering, and it takes only a few seconds before you are gasping, crying out, teetering on the edge.

"Klaus, I'm—"

"I know." His voice is a ragged, wrecked thing, and you can't help but look down.

The sight that greets you nearly undoes you.

His pupils are blown wide, his mouth slick, lips parted. There is a flush high on his cheeks, and his hair is wild, tousled from your grip. He is a beautiful disaster, and the sight of him like this, the knowledge that you did this, has pleasure coiling tighter and tighter inside you.

"So sweet," he murmurs, the words a filthy caress. "So wet. So ready for me."

A broken cry escapes you, a plea, a demand. "Klaus—"

"Let go, love. Let go."

His mouth closes around you, and your world goes white.

Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, a devastating thing that has your body shaking, your nails digging into his scalp.

Klaus groans, working you through it, tasting, teasing, until your fingers tug at his hair, urging him back.

With a final, lingering kiss, he obliges, standing and drawing you into his arms, his mouth finding yours, the taste of you still slick against his tongue.

You shudder, the pleasure too much, too overwhelming. You are sensitive, overstimulated, and yet—

Your body reacts to his touch. Your hips press closer, and a soft, broken noise escapes, half-whimper, half-demand.

"So greedy," Klaus murmurs, the words a sinful caress against your skin. "So perfect."

He is everywhere, his body caging yours, his hands gripping, roaming, claiming. His touch is searing, desperate, and when, at last, he pulls away, his gaze finds yours.

For a moment, there is nothing but breath, heat, the frantic hammer of two racing heartbeats.

"My turn."

You barely register the words before he is lifting you, pinning you against the wall, the air between you crackling with a thousand different desires.

You can feel him, hard, straining against his slacks. Your legs tighten around his hips, and Klaus groans.

"I want to fuck you," he says, voice low, wrecked, and God, but the words make your body ache.

"Please," you breathe, a plea, a demand.

His teeth drag along your throat, sharp and insistent. "Ask me."

"Klaus, I—"

"Ask."

His grip shifts, his hands settling beneath your thighs, spreading you wide. You can feel the cool air against your skin, and the sensation makes you tremble.

"Klaus, I want—"

A soft, breathless laugh. "Say it."

He is torturing you, his grip firm, unrelenting. You could reach between the two of you, free him from his slacks, slide onto him, and—

He shifts, the length of him dragging, torturous, over the seam of you. A strangled cry escapes, and your fingers clench, fisting tighter into his shirt.

"Klaus, please, I need—"

"What do you need?"

You arch, the pressure almost unbearable. You need more. You need relief.

"Fuck me," you breathe. "Please."

There is a pause, a single, suspended moment, and then—

He releases his grip, and the ground disappears.

You barely register the change, the shift, the blur of color and motion as he crosses the room, pinning you against the nearest surface, a table, a desk, something hard and sturdy and oh, God, right fucking there.

His mouth meets yours, hot, urgent, and when he grinds into you, the fabric is gone.

You shudder, the sensation overwhelming, and the next thing you know, his mouth is on yours, swallowing your cries.

He tastes like you, and his kiss is desperate, frantic, wild. It is a frenzy, a whirlwind, a firestorm.

You gasp, hips rising, meeting him halfway, and he groans.

"I've got you, love," he rasps, nipping at your lip. "I've got you."

He is pressing into you, and the stretch, the heat, is exquisite. He moves with a steady, aching drag, and when, at last, his hips are flush with yours, you exhale, breathless, dizzy.

He pauses, and for a moment, you both just breathe.

Then, eyes blazing, he pulls back, and thrusts.

The movement is harsh, jarring, a sharp, delicious drag that leaves you gasping.

"God, you feel incredible," Klaus groans, his fingers tightening, his hips rocking.

You whimper, the friction nearly undoing you, and his gaze darkens.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, his words a ragged, reverent thing. "So tight. So ready for me."

You can feel every inch of him, hot, thick, the pressure almost unbearable. And the rhythm, fuck, it is torturous. It is slow, deliberate, his movements measured, controlled, but the effect is devastating.

You are trembling, your body already sensitive, the heat coiling, twisting. You don't know how he has done this, how he has dragged you so close, so fast, but the next thing you know, your hands are gripping his shoulders, nails digging in, urging him deeper, faster.

"Look at you," he rasps, eyes locked on your face, watching the flush rise in your cheeks, the flicker of ecstasy cross your features. "So needy."

"Klaus, I can't—it's too—"

"Come for me, love. Let go."

It isn't a request. It is a command, a demand.

And the second it registers, the world falls away.

"Klaus, I—"

"That's it, love," he says, voice roughened by want, by hunger. "That's it."

Your back arches, your nails scraping down his back, and Klaus hisses.

"Yes," he growls, thrusting, deeper, harder, faster. "Take me, love. Take everything."

Your head tips back, and for a moment, there is nothing but breath, heat, the frantic pounding of two racing hearts.

"God, you're so close, aren't you? So close, and yet, I need more. I need—"

He shifts, and the angle changes. He drives into you, harder, faster, and the world explodes.

Pleasure rips through you, white-hot, devastating, and your mouth opens, but no sound escapes. You are shaking, shuddering, and the only thing anchoring you is the pressure of his hands on your thighs, his hips pressed flush against yours, the feeling of him, hot, thick, buried deep inside you.

He works you through it, his mouth marking your throat, the curve of your collarbone, his rhythm relentless, unwavering. You can feel him, the strain in his muscles, the tension, and you know—he is close.

"You're so perfect," he rasps, voice strained, hoarse, desperate. "So good. God, the things you do to me, the way you make me feel—"

Your hips arch, grinding into him, and his words cut off, a strangled curse escaping instead.

"I've waited so long," he says, his grip shifting, sliding under your ass, lifting you higher, the angle shifting.

"Wanted you for so long."

"Klaus—"

"Look at me," he orders, his words ragged, fierce. "I want to see you."

Your eyes open, and the sight that greets you makes your heart stutter.

His pupils are blown wide, his irises a thin, shimmering ring, dark, hungry, primal.

His chest heaves, his expression one of wild, unfettered desire.

"I've waited centuries for you," he murmurs, his hips moving, slow, deep, a lazy drag that sends sparks up your spine. "But I'll wait a thousand more."

"Don't." The word slips out, and his brow furrows.

"What—?"

"Don't wait."

A shudder, a sharp, indrawn breath.

"Don't make me," you breathe, arching, grinding. "Don't hold back."

"But—"

"Fuck me, Klaus."

His jaw clenches, a muscle twitching, and you know—he is hanging by a thread.

"I want you," you continue, fingers tangling in his curls, gripping tighter, making him hiss

All of you. I want you to claim me. Ruin me. I want—"

His hips snap, and a moan escapes, low, ragged, needy.

"God," Klaus growls, his grip flexing, his control cracking, breaking. "The things I want to do to you."

"Show me."

The air between you crackles, a thousand different desires sparking, snapping.

And then, with a low growl, Klaus lets go.

His mouth meets yours, and his rhythm turns punishing, unwavering, a frenzied thing that leaves you gasping.

Your fingers rake down his back, his neck, and when, at last, you fist your hand in his hair, his breath catches.

"Yes," he rasps, and fuck, but his voice is a thing of pure, unadulter

"Come for me," you whisper, tugging at his curls, your other hand scraping, dragging, leaving red welts against his skin. "Come for me, Klaus."

A low, broken groan, and his hips snap. He is losing control, his movements sharp, staccato, his breathing uneven, ragged.

"Come for me, love," he echoes, and the world tilts.

He is everywhere, the heat, the weight, the pressure, and you can feel the edge drawing closer, the fire roaring higher, brighter.

"Klaus—"

He knows.

"Yes," he breathes, and then, eyes burning, brimming with a wild, feral thing, he murmurs—

"Come."

And you do.

You fall, the world exploding, shattering, your vision going white. Your entire body shakes, trembles, and a moment later, Klaus follows.

His thrusts grow frantic, desperate, his rhythm faltering. You can feel his body, tense, straining, the corded muscles tightening, flexing.

And then, with a ragged, breathless sound, he comes.

You can feel it, the warmth of him, the way he shakes, shudders, his entire body trembling, undone.

His eyes find yours, and there is nothing but breath, heat, the frantic pounding of two racing hearts.

"You," Klaus whispers, lips brushing yours, his grip flexing, tightening, as if afraid to let you go.

"Always you."

༊*·˚

The world is quiet in the aftermath, the air thick with the lingering warmth of him, of you, of everything that unraveled between you. There is no space between your bodies, only the steady rise and fall of his breath against your skin, the way his fingers trace slow, absent-minded patterns along your back.

Klaus doesn’t speak at first. He only holds you—his grip firm, protective, as though even now, with the storm passed, he is afraid you might slip through his fingers. His lips ghost over your temple, the barest press of warmth, before trailing down, skimming your cheek, your jaw, the curve of your shoulder.

"You’re shaking," he murmurs, his voice softer now, rasping with something quieter, something reverent. He pulls the blanket over you both, tucking you further into his chest, his hand smoothing over your spine, soothing, grounding. "Are you cold?"

You shake your head against him, but he doesn’t stop. His fingers thread into your hair, nails grazing your scalp in a way that makes you sigh, makes you melt further into the safe haven of his embrace.

A deep hum rumbles from his chest, and then, almost teasingly, "Worn you out, have I?"

You huff a quiet laugh, too drowsy to play along, too content to let anything pull you from this moment. Instead, you nuzzle closer, feeling the way his arm tightens around you instinctively, the way his breath stirs your hair as he exhales, slow, deep, utterly satisfied.

There is something different in the way he holds you now—less hunger, more tenderness. The same hands that once gripped you like a man starved now cradle you as if you are something fragile, precious. And in the quiet, as he traces slow, lazy circles along your skin, you realize:

This is not just possession. It is devotion.

He shifts, just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, lingering there. "Alright, love?"

You nod, eyes fluttering shut. "Always," you murmur, the words soft, certain.

A slow, contented sigh. Another kiss—this one pressed to your shoulder, his lips curving slightly against your skin. "Good," he breathes, tucking you impossibly closer, his voice dipping into something even softer, even fonder.

"Sleep now. I’m not going anywhere."

this is the first smut I have ever written. I hope it's okay!!! tried my best <3

taglist: @ohapple@myworldrightnow@deactiveblogx@witch-of-letters @xtwistedchaosx@liataylorsversion@pardonmydelayyy @susannahmikaelson

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l0s3rd0wnt0wn · 22 hours ago

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"YOU CAN NOT MATCH THEIR FREAK

(Smut maybe kinda this ain't to deep but I just wanted to test the waters to see if I got that dog in me)

Many people think (including wb!readers partners) this is some kind of a prude—you back away when it comes to hugging, hell, you lean away when it comes to kissing. You get flustered over holding hands, and you get shy at hugging; they can feel your body shiver at the slightest touch. They start to think you’re touch-starved, but your friends do that stuff all the time, so why are you getting all shy when the manor is empty, and it's just you and them on your bedroom floor? Lack of partners, maybe? Your corner's first crush, lack of experience—Jaime's never been with a boy. You're insecure; Bart thinks you're the most beautiful girl to ever cross his eyes, but you’ve just never kissed anyone before. Cassie has never kissed a girl before; you’re both even. But really, they don't know how much of a freak you are—like, AT ALL. You paid five dollars for NSFW content from a dating sim, and you own the freakiest mangas you can get your grubby little hands on. You read and write the nastiest of smut; if they saw your freaky side, they wouldn't survive it—none of them.

You're hanging in your room with Bart. He starts to get nosy, looking at your manga collection. He sees a small compartment in the back hiding some more manga. He's thinking you didn't have any space, but lo and behold, it's something downright freaky: "Lady K and the Sick Man." He flips through a few pages, and by God, was it graphic! He didn't know the 21st century had this kind of stuff. And you owned physical copies. He’s blushing, skimming through the pages gently, imagining the two of you in these types of positions. His hands are getting clammy with sweat just at the thought of you getting off on this. God, you’re perverted, laying on your bed, breathing heavily, fingers dancing and teasing your clit as the posters on your wall stare at you, knowing how you really are when you’re all alone.

"Bart, stop snooping around; if you want to read some, I'll let you borrow them." His body is shocked when he hears your voice, but he doesn't drop the book. "So you're saying I can keep this, right, pretty girl?" You turn your head just to feel your stomach drop—you can't wiggle yourself out of this one. He's walking over to you slowly, stalking like a hyena to its prey. "Not so innocent, are you?" Jaime doesn't think it's fair that you act so shy, but he heard in your past relationships you were so open with your lovers, so out there, so handsy and grabby. With him, the two of you had a small kiss, and that was a stretch, because your first kiss was on Valentine's Day—corny, I know. You fell to your knees the moment your lips touched, but to take things slow is to take things easy; he can wait. No, he can't. Maybe you're hiding something in your sketchbook; you're always drawing in that thing. Maybe he'll find something that will give him answers.

So when you leave to go to the bathroom, he grabs your backpack and scavenges through it like a hungry raccoon, pulling out the notebook with the cute little sticker and faded paint on it. Time to know what's on your mind, and let's just say what's on your mind is him. It's filled with him and just him. He's never thought he looked so good in your eyes, never thought you saw him like this. The pride is kicking in. He lingers on every page until he finds "that one": a sketchy drawing of the two of you making out, bodies closer than he can ever imagine. It looks like a small comic with sketches of his pleasured reactions. The next one is a body spread page of you judging him in the most compromising positions— you behind him, kissing his neck as you played with an now-erased drawing of your hand on his cock, pulling the back of his long hair as the two of you kissed, and so many more. It's enough to make him go crazy! Is this what you've been hiding from—pushing him away for throwing pages in the trash can?

When you come to see the sketch, you tackle Jaime to the floor, flustered, trying to get it out of his hands. He holds it out of your reach as you sit on top of him; he can’t stop laughing, calling all kinds of perverted names. He throws the sketchbook across his room. You’re ready to get up, but he pulls on your hips, pulling you down on top of him. "I could always do a nude painting for you, cariño." He kisses your neck, and your body jolts. "Acting all shy when this is the kind of stuff you draw? I'll send you pictures if you need a reference," he teases. "Shut up! I just get curious!" You shout—way too curious.

You and Conner love musicals. You always have new bands for him to try out, and he's always finding new songs he wants you to put on your shared playlist. Whenever you play a song that is a little bit perverted or a little bit inappropriate—maybe a bit suggestive—you always seem to hold a straight face. But when you kiss, you can barely stand on your feet. Sometimes, you gatekeep songs with silly excuses: "It's for the girls" (lie), "Oh, it's in another language" (lie), "You just wouldn't get them like I do" (lie). But he won't bother you about it; if you don't want to tell him, don't tell him. He'll figure it out on his own. If there's one thing Tim taught him, it's that stalking is like research; you have to discover things no one has ever reached.

So, on his little mission to find out what you're listening to, he figured out a way to get into your Spotify. Nothing different—just a few new songs or more. They're not as bad or as underground as you; they were just regular songs, so why hide it? But this definitely wasn't what you were listening to. He had to up his game. Flying over to the manor, he was going to confront you until he heard a moan are you in pain. Oh god, he's flying to your window; your curtains were drawn. All he could see was the blue light from your laptop screen touching your face gently. He heard another moan; you were not in pain. He pressed himself closer to the window, seeing your headphones over your ears, your hand in your panties as you whimpered sweetly.

Oh, oh, OH. He didn't know you—wow, it's always the quiet ones, huh? His ears perked up hearing the sound of a guy groaning. Okay, you're definitely not listening to music. "Kon," you whined out as your fingers moved in imperfect circles. He's breathing heavily, feeling the fabric of his suit get tighter as he watches you tremble, struggling to keep your voice down. "Fuck...~" Okay, that's enough; he can't sit there and watch. He needs to help you, and you're going to help him. You hear a knock on your window; you whine, turning your head to the side and seeing those blue eyes. Oh god, he wasn't watching you, was he?

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skeletonh0e · 3 days ago

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Okay, how about this? The Skeletons with a S/O That really like wearing collars; does not matter if it has bells or spikes. They just Like to wear one for style purposes specifically, and it makes them feel pretty/handsome and it makes them happy. (Love your stuff on swap sans btw, no one has made me this food in years.)

Oooo reminds me of me in high-school, I chokers all the time. Not so much anymore though

And thank you! I love my boy Swap, I'm always happy to provide, anyway-

The boys & Your Fashion Sense

Classic Sans:

Neat

All he has to say on it really, nothing to choke out about ya know? (da dum tss)

Might wanna be careful with spikes though, he'll forget you're wearing it when he nuzzles up to you

He'll probably crack outs when you wear one with bells tbh

Also might play with the bell purely for the lolz

Underswap Sans:

Actually thinks they're really cool!

Always compliments you! Especially when you wear a new one!

Show him your entire collar collection, he'll in awe

Also helps him decide which ones to get when he buys you ones

Let's just say your collection definitely grows thanks to him

Underfell Sans:

Given the general aesthetic of his underground, probably doesn't notice it as anything special until he's been with you a bit them it's just

"what are you? a god damn dog?"

Not convinced that it's not a kink thing but yeah you do you

They are kinda hot he'll admit

Jokes about getting you a lease and might actually tug on your collar when he wants your attention so be careful

Underlust Sans:

Oooo! You two can match!

Of course there's his whole underground gimmick, but he does actually like them for style purposes too

So yeah you're in good company here

The type to buy you matching pairs to wear and also buy you new ones

You're both gonna be looking and feeling fabulous together!

Horrortale Sans:

Doesn't really get it

Like yeah you look nice but also you could wear a trash bag and he'd think that

Axe is not the most fashion savvy person out there, if the fact he wears a blood stained shirt 9/10 didn't give that away

He does like the ones with the bell though so there's that

Might ask if those are uncomfortable depending how often you wear them, more out of concern than anything

Fresh Sans:

Have you seen how this man dresses?

Bro has no right to judge (not that he would anyway but yeah)

Does thing they're pretty neat though

Can he decorate one for you? 👉👈

Don't say yes unless you're willing to wear a rainbow collare with a fuzzy worm with googly eyes attached to it

Killer Sans:

"Hot."

Killer is tactful as always

He's a little shit and gonna be making jokes about you being his pet, like Fell jokes about getting you a lease but this man actually does it then just attaches it to the collar your wearing atm

Bro is just a straight up little shit alright

And yeah this man does grab your collar and pull at it to drag you somewhere. Again. He's a shithead.

Dusttale Sans:

Doesn't get it, but more for sensory reasons than anything

Dust doesn't care for extremely restrictive clothing, so he's just confused on how those don't bother you

If it were him he'd be constantly trying to rip it off

He'll just take your word for it that you do genuinely like them

Pls take it off so he shove his face into the crook of your neck during cuddles tho?

Nightmare Sans:

Also....doesn't really get it

You look good yes but he doesn't get the purpose of them even if you explain the style for him

Whatever, he'll humor it on occasion, buys you more and helps you pick out certain outfits

Forbids you from wearing them at certain gatherings and places though, he's always been a bit controlling about what you wear

Despite that though....does admit you look good

#💀 the boys (group post)#sans x reader #underfell sans x reader #underswap sans x reader #horrorfell sans x reader #fresh sans x reader #underlust sans x reader #killer sans x reader #dust sans x reader #nightmare sans x reader #asks #requests

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honeypiehotchner · 1 day ago

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

Y'all. I swore this fic wasn't going to be novel-length, but *gestures to the current WC in progress* I fear I've done it again. There's still so much to happen, so it's likely that this will be another 30ish chapter fic😭 That being said, we've reached our turning point for these two...maybe things will start looking up soon 👀

Warnings: angst :( the truth comes out :(

You wake to a missed call from Penelope and an ache in your bones. The day comes back to you in fits and starts: speaking to Richard Monroe again, arguing with Hotch again, the car chase, the hospital— Hotch knows the truth.

A wave of nausea overtakes you when you remember. Hotch knows. Hotch knows and not because you told him, but because he went behind your back.

God, and he probably told the entire team, so now they all know, and they probably hate you for keeping it a secret from them.

Your phone buzzes again with a text and you pick it up, seeing that it’s just Pen asking if you’d like some company for dinner. Just you, her, and some Chinese takeout.

You tell her Of course because you’ll never turn down time with Pen, especially not including food. And because…maybe this will be good. Hotch said he looked at your file, and there’s only one person capable of pulling it and unsealing it for him.

You can’t be mad at Pen, though. Not ever. Because Hotch is her superior just like he is yours, so you can’t blame her for doing what she was told. You just wonder if she read it and kept it a secret, or if she didn’t glance at it at all.

Pen answers that question for you the second she gets to your apartment with the food. As soon as everything is set out on the coffee table in your living room, she blurts it all out.

“I didn’t read your file,” she starts to ramble. “And for the record, I told Hotch that what he was doing was stupid and a betrayal of your trust and that I didn’t agree with it at all. I gave him your file because he asked and he’s my boss, but I made sure to give him a piece of my mind when I did. You don’t just go around digging into people’s pasts like that! He should’ve just asked you! And now he’s got the whole team on high alert being all cryptic and—”

“Pen. Pen, slow down.”

She does, pausing to suck in a deep breath. She takes both of your hands in hers. “I just wanted you to know I’d never do that to you.”

You smile softly, squeezing her hands. “I know.”

“And that if you need anything, anything at all, I don’t care what it is, I’m here,” she continues. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you assure her. “A little sore, but I’m okay.”

“No, I mean,” she pauses, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “Are you in any kind of trouble?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “What makes you say that?” Did Hotch seriously spill your secret?

“Hotch had me bring out everything from the last few cases, and dig up everything on Richard Monroe. I know you were speaking to him because he kept asking for you, and Hotch sounded really worried, but he wouldn’t tell any of us what this is all about, so I’m just…I’m scared.”

You frown. “Don’t be scared, Pen, I’m okay.” You pause, wondering if you should let her in. It seems like Hotch hasn’t told anyone, so only he and Rossi are in the know on why he’d want Garcia to dig all of this stuff up. And if he asked for everything from the last few cases, his suspicions might be the same as yours. “You really didn’t look at my file when you unsealed it?”

She shakes her head vigorously. “I didn’t. Shut my eyes and everything. You should’ve seen the sticky note I put on it— I don’t even remember what I wrote but I know it was scathing. I kind of hoped it would make Hotch have second thoughts about digging through your past like that.”

Oh, Penelope. “Well,” you let out a strained laugh, “I appreciate that. He— Pen, what I had sealed was about my biological father.”

She stares at you, eyes wide and expectant.

“My father is The Strangler,” you say, searching her eyes for any recognition. “Carson Adkins. My mom had her and my last name changed back to her maiden name when I was fourteen, and she moved us all the way to Washington to escape from all that he had done. We started over then, and I thought I’d never have to deal with any of it again, but working at the FBI, obviously I had to disclose any other names I had for a background check, and, well…”

“Oh,” Pen breathes. “Oh my god.”

You nod. “Strauss agreed to let me seal that portion of my file since it was twenty years ago now, and my father is dead, so it’s not like any of it is truly relevant — or so I thought, I guess.”

“Wait, but if he’s dead, then…”

You know what she’s asking, and you don’t have an answer. “I know. And I have no idea. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Okay,” she exhales, squeezing your hands again. “We’ll figure it out. I’ll…I’ll turn over every piece of information that I have to, I’ll hack into anything, I’ll—”

“Pen,” you laugh, pulling her toward you to wrap your arms around her in a hug. “Thank you.”

She holds you tight. “Thank you for telling me.”

You shrug as you pull away. “Figured it was time, I guess.”

She shakes her head. “It’s yours to tell, so whenever you were ready would’ve been the perfect time.”

You smile sadly. “I was getting ready, I was going to talk to Hotch about it soon. But then Richard brought it up, and…” You sigh. “It all went downhill from there.”

Pen frowns. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you deflect, starting to feel that you’ve had enough of talking about this. “What should we watch while we eat?”

Pen takes the bait with ease, immediately launching into an eager retelling of some movie she just heard of that she has to show you. It’s a welcome distraction.

+++

You return to the BAU the next day with your head held high, arriving much earlier than usual on purpose. You’d rather be settled in when the rest of the team arrives than walking in with their eyes all glued to you.

It works in your favor, except for the fact that Rossi is already there and stirring his coffee when you walk through the doors.

“Back already?” he muses, but you can see the concern in his face.

“Yep,” you nod, setting your stuff down on your desk. “Why are you here so early?”

He raises an eyebrow. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, don’t,” you huff. “Move over.”

You grab a mug from the cabinet, pouring the coffee nearly to the brim. You can feel Rossi watching you, but he doesn’t say anything.

You decide to beat him to it. “Yes, I’m fine, no broken bones, no concussion, just badly bruised and got some scrapes everywhere,” you gesture to your arms and your forehead. “I’m fine.”

“Glad to hear it,” Rossi replies, still watching you with a certain look you can’t place.

You sip the coffee, watching him just as intensely. “So,” you pause. “How much did Hotch spill yesterday while I wasn’t here?”

“He didn’t say anything.”

“Sure,” you scoff. “Did he tell you what he did? How long he’s known?”

Rossi looks down at his own coffee. Guilty.

“Of course he did,” you roll your eyes, turning to head back to your desk. You pause halfway, spinning back around. “Why didn’t you tell me he knew?”

“I wanted him to tell you that himself,” Rossi replies. “Because he was out of line doing what he did, and I’ve told him that. He should’ve asked you, and believe me, I’ve told him what he should’ve done.”

You pause, gripping your mug. “Right.”

“I knew you would be upset,” Rossi says. “And you have every right to be.”

“Thank you,” you say, startled by his validation. “He didn’t tell the team?”

“No,” Rossi shakes his head. “He told everyone to go home early.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “But—” The words die in your throat when you see Hotch come through the glass doors, pausing just inside when he spots you here so early, coffee already in hand.

“Agent L/N,” Hotch says, shock all over his face.

“Hotch,” you reply with a curt nod.

He doesn’t bother with anything else, walking past you to head up to his office in silence. You watch him go.

You hate this. The silence between you two, the clipped words, the averted eyes. You’re used to the heat, the arguing, the glares. You don’t know why, but you want that back.

But you’re tired. You’re so tired of this. Keeping this secret from the team, hiding behind a new name, pretending like there’s nothing deeper underneath the anger you and Hotch share.

Your feet move before you know what they’re doing, and you’re standing in Hotch’s office before you realize it.

Hotch freezes where he’s standing behind his desk, unpacking his briefcase. He stands up straight, waiting for you to break the silence.

“I’m going to tell the team the truth today,” you say firmly. “Garcia and I had dinner last night, and she told me you had her bring up everything from the last few cases. Do you think they’re connected?”

Hotch hesitates, choosing his words carefully. “Do you?”

Your fingers tighten around the mug as you nod slowly. “Yes.”

“For how long?”

“Since we found the body outside the elementary school,” you murmur, focusing on the spine of a random book on Hotch’s shelf. “That’s where my dad— where Adkins usually dumped bodies.” You pause, swallowing thickly and dragging your eyes back to Hotch’s. “I thought I was just on edge from Richard somehow recognizing me, and that I was forcing connections that weren’t there, so I pushed it down. But after yesterday…” I’m scared. Don’t make me say it. But I’m terrified.

Hotch nods slowly, looking down at his desk for a moment. “Alright. When everyone gets here, we can meet in the conference room.”

“Okay,” you reply. You turn to leave, pausing in the doorway when Hotch calls out your name. You don’t turn to look at him.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I should’ve let you come to me.”

You shake your head as you leave, heading back down to your desk.

Slowly, the team begins to trickle in. Reid first, nose shoved in a book like always. JJ and Prentiss next, coffees in hand. Garcia and Morgan next, coffees also in hand, except there’s a third one with your name on it that Derek hands off to you. You take it easily, having already finished the mug you filled earlier.

Once you take stock of everyone being here, you nod toward the conference room. “Let’s head up. I’ve got something I need to talk to you guys about.”

Morgan’s eyebrows furrow immediately. “Oh…‘kay.”

You head up the stairs, passing by Hotch’s office to knock softly. He’s on the phone. “Everyone’s here.”

Hotch nods once. “I’ll call you back.” He hangs up and follows you.

Rossi peers out of his office, following behind Hotch as you all file into the conference room.

You don’t bother sitting down, standing up front by the screen, though nothing is on it, and there won’t be. At least not for now. Everyone sits around the table, eyes expectantly watching you, Derek most of all. So Hotch must’ve hinted at something, but not given anything away.

This feels like a reverse intervention. You push past that feeling.

You purposefully don’t look at Hotch as you begin speaking, though you do glance at Rossi.

“Well,” you pause, adjusting your grip on the takeaway coffee cup. “I haven’t been exactly honest with you all, but not out of any malicious intent. I didn’t think this was relevant, but the past few weeks have started to convince me otherwise. So.” You take a deep breath. “My real surname is Adkins. My father was Carson Adkins, The Strangler.”

Silence echoes all around you in the conference room.

You clear your throat, moving forward, because unfortunately, that isn’t the biggest bomb you have to drop on them. “I believe the last few cases we’ve gone on have been connected somehow. Lila’s kidnapping mirrored mine almost exactly, down to her father turning himself in to help find her. Richard Monroe somehow recognized me — that I still don’t understand, but after what happened yesterday when we finished speaking to him, I believe he’s connected to the unsub we’re looking for.”

“Um, what unsub are we looking for?” Reid pipes up.

“The one who left us the note,” you answer. “Gambit. I’d find it hard to believe if it wasn’t him who chased Hotch and I in the car yesterday, given that the car he drove was a victim’s from the last case. He had to know somehow that we were leaving the prison, he had to get her car somehow. The way he disposed of the bodies was almost exactly the same as my father, not to mention strangling them.”

“So this guy’s a copycat?” Morgan asks.

“Not exactly,” Reid says.

“It’s almost like he’s doing a Greatest Hits tour,” Prentiss says.

“But why?” JJ asks.

“He’s playing a game,” Hotch says. “He’s taunting us.”

“Or taunting me,” you add. “And I don’t know why. Maybe he knew my dad, I don’t know. But it’s getting out of hand, and…” You pause, looking around at everyone, even daring to glance at Hotch. “I need your help.”

“Whatever you need,” Prentiss says.

“We’ve got you,” Morgan says firmly. “What do you need?”

“That’s the problem,” you laugh shakily. “I don’t know. I don’t know who we’re looking for, I don’t know why he’s coming after me twenty years later, I don’t know anything.”

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” Morgan says. “Where do we start?”

You’re at a loss for words again.

Thankfully, Garcia fills the silence for you. “I’ve pulled everything from the other cases, and everything on Richard Monroe. I’ll send it to all of you.” She starts gathering her things.

“Dig up anything you can on Carson Adkins,” you add. “Nothing is too small. And I’ll fill in the blanks with what I can remember.”

Garcia nods slowly, squeezing your shoulder as she passes by you.

Rossi pulls the empty chair next to him out for you, gesturing for you to sit. You take it, your legs shaking, and not from the coffee.

“I’m proud of you, kiddo,” Rossi murmurs, giving you a fond look.

“Thanks,” you sigh. You look up at everyone around the table, their eyes all watching you with mixes of sympathy, sadness, pity, and whatever else. “Alright guys. I’m an open book, so. What do you wanna know?”

JJ leans forward onto her elbows. “Are you okay?”

You nod, though you’re not so sure of your answer. “Yeah, I just— I really wanna find this guy.”

“We will,” Rossi says quietly. “Why don’t we start with the conversation with Richard? What did he say to you?”

You see Hotch tense, just barely. Probably imperceptibly to the rest of the team, but you see the change — the clench of his jaw, the way he goes as still as a statue.

“Nothing important, seriously,” you say. “He wasted our time for most of it, but then he said I know who’s doing this, just that I don’t want to admit it to myself.” You pause, looking around the table. “But I don’t know who’s doing this. Richard thinks it’s someone who was close with my dad, but I don’t know anyone who was.”

You’re careful not to mention Richard’s taunting about Hotch being your guard dog and all the implications that comes with. Or that the car chase involved you sitting in Hotch’s lap. Which you still haven’t forgotten about, and will be bringing up to him one day — in private at least.

“Is there someone we can ask?” JJ asks tentatively. “Someone who knew your dad?”

You shake your head. “My mom passed away last year,” you answer. “And I don’t have contact with any of his family. They didn’t like that my mom moved us away and changed our name.”

Silence coats the room.

“If he had friends, I didn’t know about them,” you continue. “Mom and I never really talked about him once we moved away.”

“I’ll have Garcia look into it,” Hotch says. Then, almost regretfully, he adds, “Unfortunately, this won’t be the only thing on our plate today. Use of Force Reports are due again soon, and Strauss doesn’t want any delays this time. So, while we wait for some information to come in, I need you all to work on those, please.”

Everyone nods, standing from their chairs to return to their desks to tackle the paperwork. The sooner those reports get done, the sooner all their attention can be devoted to figuring this gambit out.

As you’re about to walk around Hotch to leave, he stops you with the briefest of touches on your arm. Barely there, you’re almost unsure of if he actually touched you.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he says quietly. “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to make this easier for you.”

You nod slowly, despite knowing there is absolutely nothing he can do — or anyone, for that matter — to make this any easier. “Thank you,” you say anyway. “I appreciate it.”

He nods once and leaves you alone, returning to his office. As you pass by, you hear him returning the phone call he was on earlier.

He leaves his door and blinds open, clearly sending the same message in his actions as he did with his words. If there’s anything I can do.

You’re not sure what to do with that.

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