#he deserves it because of how fucking kind he is

[apocalypsegay]

the way disco elysium plays with and ultimately shatters the concept of "camaraderie" in the police and the military truly is So. Good.

it introduces you to kim who is this ideal of the Brother in Arms - you meet him and you know. he'd lay it all down for you.

you then proceed to realize this is a kim thing, not a cop thing, despite the skill that informs you about it being The Cop Camaraderie skill

the rest of the cops are not just unhelpful, they're cruel. they're a boys' club of toxic masculinity, homophobia and joking about how they abuse their power, like when jean stole mustard from a homeless man. if harry begs them for help, the greatest kindness the operator can do for him is pretend he didn't hear and cut the connection to save harry's pride. the more you put into this skill, the more the rancid underbelly of policing and policemen as individuals in this system comes to light.

and that's before we get into the plot-relevant stuff, how martinaise was abandoned by jean and co because jean was too damn busy trying to make a point to harry than do his fucking job.

then there's the bond between the paramilitary squad. unlike the cops, they're tight, a family to each other, and it makes them completely immune to reason the moment the Head of their hierarchy gets murdered. and this head of theirs, the most rational, most charismatic of them all, their leader, still was a monster who, for His Men and their Morale, saw kidnapping some poor girl and offering her like a human sacrifice to the pit of animals that was his squadron as a Rational course of action.

maybe there's love there, in a way, but it's the kind of love that wholly depends on seeing your circle as the only people deserving of life, and the rest of the world as insects.

and i think abt how so many other stories that try to be cop or military critical still fall into that trap of believing that the people in these environs are a Family doing their Best, that they got each others back and thats all that they need to get through this!(whatever plot event is happening)

and not that its like. a cesspool of keeping each other in Check or maintaining that Family only by Othering the rest of the world

[windandwater]

OP knows all of what I'm about to say, but researching scientology used to be my hobby and while reading this with the context I have from all that background, I have absolutely no fucking doubt that this man is still in this cult. You do not just quietly leave, almost ever, but especially when you're that high up. Based on his previous activity and his family's status, if he had actually left in 2000, even if he'd tried to do it quietly, it would have meant a blackmail & harassment campaign. That clearly didn't happen.

The cult is designed to keep you in it and to keep you active. You don't just kind of stop showing up at services the way you would in what we would think of as a regular church. You might be able to avoid their phone calls and barrage of contact at a lower level without them deciding to declare you "suppressive" and force all scientologists to disconnect from you, but at a high level? Absolutely not. And continuing to send them money is, in this situation, where the entire cult is designed to make money, is the same thing as being active.

Also, it is an extreme red flag, in my opinion, to put scientologists on the level of being "persecuted" with other actual persecuted religious groups. That is something scientologists believe about themeslves, and like to spread as propaganda within their group to make themselves feel like everyone is against them and everyone outside is evil and trying to destroy them. It's not something anyone who's gotten out would ever think.

Another red flag in the Vulture article that makes me, at this point, unsurprised by this, is his aversion to therapy. A man who had left scientology a while ago might have a hard time coming around to the idea, but be willing to be talked into it. But someone still involved? Absolutely not.

Again: at that level, you do not simply stop going. You have to leave, and leave hard, and you don't get to keep talking to your family that's still in. You don't still send them money.

This man is still in.

(This is my opinion on the situation and I don't claim any actual knowledge as to what's going on with Neil Gaiman's personal life in any way.)

(I also wish I could source link you to an article that tells you the reason I believe everything I've said but I've been learning about these people since around 2005/2006 and it's difficult when it spans a couple decades and defunct forums/podcasts/videos. I highly recommend researching this cult yourself even just to get a glimpse into how fragmented the research is; it's very hard to learn about them because of the way they operate. They're scary and shitty and their survivors are incredible human beings who deserve to be heard.)

About that Scientology connection...

One of the details that came to light this week in the latest article detailing the horrific allegations against Neil Gaiman (which I believe are true, to be clear, but not the primary focus of what I'm writing about here) is the extent of his ties to the Church of Scientology. I was most engaged with Neil's work as a teenager and in my early 20s, and I didn't recall seeing mention of the connection at the time (granted, that was more than few years ago!). I couldn't let it go after reading the Vulture article, so I started to dig a bit and found a lot of information being shared on Reddit and even further digging uncovered archived forum posts from over a decade ago by former CoS members.

There are a lot of details in this article by Mikey Crotty, who appears to be an independent comics journalist, which was published by Mike Rinder on his blog in 2023. Rinder was famously an executive in the "church" in Australia and ran SeaOrg (the elite force of CoS, essentially, and responsible for internal discipline within the broader org) before ultimately leaving the organization and speaking out as loudly as he could about the abuses he had been complicit in as a member (at great personal risk, as anyone who is familiar with the tactics used against former CoS members will know).

The piece was written as an exposé about Gaiman's then recently published novel, The Ocean at the End of the Lane, which was semi-autobiographical. Crotty discusses details about Gaiman's family, Gaiman's participation in CoS, and the coverup his father orchestrated for an apparent suicide of a student of Scientology who had immigrated to the UK and was living with the Gaimans at the time. This suicide is written into The Ocean at the End of the Lane.

Neil's father, David Gaiman, was head of worldwide communications for the Church of Scientology in the 60s, and was leading the PR spin to protect the organization from increasing legal scrutiny in the UK at the time. Around the same time, a suicide occurred while a young man, Johannes Scheepers, was living with them (the Gaiman's took in CoS students as lodgers at their home on a regular basis, apparently). The Gaiman family launched a campaign to depict him as a broken down gambler to avoid further scandal for the organization. The logic doesn't quite add up, and it's more likely that Johannes was a new adherent who had been badly taken advantage of. You can read more details in the article I linked. Crotty makes the case that not only were the Gaimans lying about the death of the student, even going so far as to claim he wasn't actually lodging with them, but that Neil then went further to spread these lies in the form of fiction decades later (we now know this book was written as a result of the prompting of Amanda Palmer, who was encouraging him to confront his childhood experiences with CoS per the article in Vulture).

The article also points out evidence of Neil's continued involvement with Scientology:

Neil Gaiman’s history with Scientology is very murky; deliberately so. His family are practically Scientology royalty in the UK, he met his first wife Mary McGrath while she was studying Scientology and lodging at Harrow House and he himself worked as a Scientology Auditor for several years in the Eighties and was a Director of a Scientologist’s property company ‘Centrepoint’ until 1999.  He now won’t discuss his own Scientology connections and states, without any details, that he’s no longer a member of the Cult that supported Apartheid up until the mid eighties, believes homosexuals are deviants and mental illness is a manifestation of personal failure in the sufferer’s current or past life; beliefs which are anathema to most of Neil’s adoring audience. His connection to Scientology and apparent departure from the cult first went public as part of a court case in 2002 where when asked “Are you still involved with the Church of Scientology?” Neil said “I don’t understand the question”, subsequently asked “Are you still a member of the Church of Scientology?” he replied “I don’t consider myself as such”. Even then his admission that he worked for the Church for 3 years is somewhat confusing: “I worked for a 3 year period after getting out of school as a ‘Counsellor’ for the Church of Scientology”; in fact he actually worked as an ‘Auditor’ in a process made famous in the award winning 2015 Documentary ‘Going Clear’ which explains how officials in the Church of Scientology keep in-depth records on everything its members say during private ‘auditing’ sessions and then use their secrets against them. Renowned Journalist and author on Scientology Tony Ortega says that Gaiman “became a Class VIII auditor, and even ran the Birmingham “org” as its ED, executive director. “. While there is no contradiction in Neil’s actual admission of working for Scientology up till the late Nineties and subsequently leaving the cult and its beliefs sometime in the early Noughties, conflicting details arise in the period since, when Neil has insisted he’s not a Scientologist. According to public records he was a shareholder in the family firm G&G Foods, which produces the vitamins used in Scientology’s highly criticized Narconon and De-Tox practices, since 2011. He transferred approximately a quarter of a million shares to Scientologist shareholders in 2013. There’s the book ‘Ocean’ also from 2013 and then there’s also his production company ‘The Blank Corporation’. ‘The Blank Corporation’ is Neil’s production company which works on all his adaptations such as ‘Sandman’, ‘Anansi Boys’, ‘Good Omens’ and the upcoming ‘Ocean at the End of the Lane’ in partnership with Netflix, Amazon, Warner Bros, the BBC and others. According to the website and any interviews, Neil founded ‘The Blank Corporation’ in 2016 with his Vice President and former P.A. Cat Mihos. According to the official Companies registration however, the company was actually set up by Neil and then wife (and still devout Scientologist) Mary McGrath in 2000. The company is still registered to a Scientologist’s P.O Box in Wisconsin, where Mary McGrath still works for the Church of Scientology. One company; two very different stories, it’s just another mystery, like what really happened to cause Johannes Scheepers to take his own life in 1968.

I want to note that based on what I've read, being a Class VIII auditor is the highest level you can go as an auditor in CoS without becoming a member of SeaOrg. Auditors are individuals who are key to the brainwashing process members of CoS undergo; they utilize the org's "technology" to identify past sins by doing intensive interrogation sessions with members. This means Neil was well trained in how to psychologically interrogate org members and held a position of relative power over them as he documented their dearest secrets for the org (primarily to blackmail them with should they ever want to leave, based on CoS records and former members' experiences).

I found forum posts where others reviewed public records that confirmed the majority of these claims, although unable to confirm the PO Box in Wisconsin. His sister, Lizzy Calcioli, is the current company director of G&G, which supplies pseudoscientific vitamin treatments to drug rehabilitation seekers that are horribly abused by Narconon (CoS does not allow actual medical intervention or medical practices in its org). According to public filings, Neil still owns shares in G&G.

There is also this interview from 2010 with the New Yorker, in which Neil claims he is no longer a member of CoS, but expresses sympathy to them:

These days, Gaiman tends to avoid questions about his faith, but says he is not a Scientologist. Like Judaism, Scientology is the religion of his family, and he feels some solidarity with them. “I will stand with groups when I feel like they’re being properly persecuted,” he told me.

It is also well known that celebrity members of CoS are encouraged/allowed to lie about their connection to it in order to support their monetary success. Because of course they're going to contribute back to the organization through that success, which it appears Neil has done.

Additionally, we know from public accounts of CoS's practices and leaked documents that once someone "goes clear" and leaves the organization, they are not allowed to continue to associate with anyone within the cult. Isolation of former victims is one of the many tools used against them. The fact that Neil maintained a marriage for decades to an active member who still works for CoS, as well as relationships with his family members who are leaders in CoS, indicates he is either still on the books as a member or is contributing to CoS in order to avoid alienation from his family. Any sympathy a desire to remain connected with his family might conjure is misguided in my opinion, because we know that he's likely profiting off of shares in a company that takes advantage of and contributes to the traumatization of vulnerable patients as a CoS affiliated business.

Had I known Neil Gaiman was so closely connected to the "church" sooner (one degree away from L. Ron Hubbard himself as a child!), I would not have supported his work in the way that I did in the past. And I think he knew that a significant portion of his audience would respond the same way, which is why he obfuscated and downplayed those connections.

His alleged ongoing involvement also changes the way I perceive his actions - Deception and manipulation is, by former member's accounts, standard procedure for leaders within Scientology. It should come as no surprise that he will continue to deny any evidence, attempt to blame his victims, and lie lie lie to avoid potential consequences. It is, after all, the example he was given and trained in as an active participant in a destructive cult that he has never publicly disavowed and that he appears to continue to support.

I think this information should be taken into account in how former (hopefully) fans react to his responses to these accusations. I wish for peace for the victims who are now speaking out, and I hope they are able to reach the resolution they deserve.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Every Day That You Want

Main Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, tooth-rotting fluff, pregnancy, pre-established relationship, marriage proposal

Summary/Warnings: You have big news for Dean. News you have to tell him, wether he likes it or not. You really hope he likes it, though.

Author's Note: Kind of a prequel to another fic of mine (Still You Want Me), but can be read alone. I just love putting big scary men in normal situations.

Word Count: 2.9k

You can do this. You’ve been to hell and back, you’ve killed angels, you’ve survived at least three apocalypses, and you’ve helped raise the Anti-Christ. This should, comparatively, be easy. 

It’s not. It’s the most daunting and terrifying thing you’ve ever done. It’s just words, but you’re going to choke on them because they could ruin your life. You’ve rehearsed in front of the mirror until your voice didn’t sound like yours anymore and nothing you said seemed real. It had been like repeating the same one word over and over again, until it’s nothing but an odd sound. Until it meant nothing.

But this has to mean something. You have to be able to say this to Dean, and you have to try and not get lost in the possibilities of how he’ll respond. He won’t leave you—Dean would never leave you—but he might tell you he doesn’t want this, and then you’ll have to make a choice. You don’t want to make a choice. You don’t want to hear Dean tell you that, with the lives you lead, this wouldn’t be a good idea. That it doesn’t matter what either of you want, because this isn’t something you get to have.

You want to have this, though. You want to have Dean and the baby. You want to have him as you’ve always had him before—strong and tired, always fighting because it’s all he knows how to do, but resting his head on your chest in the dark and humming against your lips when he kisses you—but you also want to have him in this new way. Where he’d smile for more reasons than just you and Sam and Cas. Where he’d get to direct some of that undying loyalty to someone who’d never be ungrateful, who’d would see him as a hero in a way he might finally believe. 

He’d be so good at it. Dean would spoil the kid, and teach them everything he knew, and care for them more than he’d ever care for himself. It breaks your heart sometimes, how he doesn’t kill himself for Sam, and he doesn’t drink himself to death for Cas, and he tries to get better for you, but he still doesn’t really know how to look in the mirror and not see a shadow.

And this would be the piece of him that’s never been tainted. The piece of him that crawls over you in bed just to hold you, that still watches cartoons and gets excited when he sees a cool car or hears an awesome drumline. The part of him that still cares, against all odds, and cares so much you’ve been worried it would kill him. The part of him that’s so simply made of light and love, crushed under years of his soul being bruised and beaten.

A part of him that won’t break. A part of him you love just as much as the rest of his wreckage, but that you still try to tend to, because you’ll love him the same if it vanishes, but you don’t think he deserves that. Dean deserves to only have that piece of him expand, to have it absorb all the love you throw at him, to grow until he can see it too. Until he can believe it’s there.

You know that it’s all so fucking hard. That Dean will never be all light, but you wouldn’t ever expect him to be. You know that a baby won’t fix him, not by far, but you also know it will show him he can create something. That he doesn’t poison everything he touches. 

That he made something entirely good, with you.

And if he tells you he doesn’t want this, you’ll live with that. You’ve lived with worse.

But you don’t even want to try to live with it. You’ll probably have to, but you’d like to pretend you won’t. 

The most you’re daring to pray for is that he doesn’t freak out. But angels don’t really take your calls anymore. 

So you’ll just have to hope.

You’ve set this up perfectly. There’s a pie in the oven that you will not let burn. There’s bacon and pancakes on a plate waiting for him when he finally gets his ass up. You have the whole bunker to yourself, because Sam’s off to see Eileen.

You’re not allowed to tell Dean that—Sam says he gets annoying—but you will in order to get him in a better mood. Sam’s fatal mistake was believing that you wouldn’t do anything to make Dean happy. So this is really on Sam. He’s the one that introduced you to Dean in the first place. Just because you were his friend first doesn’t mean he didn’t lose your automatic allegiance the moment he said this is my brother and his brother was the hottest man you’d ever seen. 

Sam should’ve known better. His big head should’ve understood that letting you anywhere near Dean—let enough so close that you’d be allowed to fall in love with him—would have always resulted in you using his secrets against him to make Dean happy, so you could slip in the fact that you were pregnant with Dean’s baby as easily as possible. 

Like any sane person would.

Although you have been up for hours, after only sleeping two. And you might be losing your mind. But anyone would lose their mind in a situation like this. Waiting for their dumb boyfriend to wake up so they can change his life forever. 

But Dean’s still asleep. You’re starting to get worried. He usually sleeps in late, especially after hunts, but not this late. Not past noon, long enough for you to stress eat half of his pie, then make a whole second one. Not long enough for the coffee to go cold three times.

You’re about to go check on him when he appears in the kitchen door. Bleary eyes and mussed hair, his glazed eyes focusing slightly when they land on you.

He starts to shuffle towards you, and you forget everything you’d rehearsed. He looks sleepy and adorable, and you’ve seen him like this before but you’d like to see it a million times more. You’d like Dean to always drop his head on your shoulder and wrap his arms around your torso, to always slump over you with a low hum. To always kiss the crook of your neck and let out a long breath when your hands snake around his neck and your fingers tangle in his soft hair.

You could have him like this forever. 

You just have to tell him. 

“Dean-“

“Why’re you up.” He speaks against your skin, his voice slurring slightly, tugging you a little closer. “’S early.”

“It’s 3pm, baby.” You draw back to smile at him, and he just blinks at you. “You’ve been knocked out for fourteen hours.”

He shakes his head, pouting slightly as he takes your hand in his. “Nah. Doesn’t feel it. C’mon.”

Dean starts to walk away, taking you with him, and you’re snapped out of the daze.

“Wait,” You pull on his grip, and he turns with a frown. “Where are you going?”

“We’re goin’ back to bed.”

You give him an amused look, your affection briefly overpowering your panic. “We?”

He nods, tugging your hand in his until you’re pressed right against his chest. “Only up ‘cause you weren’t there. Need to get my girl back to bed, you need sleep too-“

You do need sleep, but until you tell Dean, you might as well be injecting caffeine right into your bloodstream.

“But I made you bacon-“

“Course you did.” He grins, pressing a light kiss to your nose. “You’re awesome, baby.” 

You feel your stomach flutter, and at this stage it has to only be nerves, but that doesn’t make anything easier. “Can we please eat?”

Dean hums, scanning carefully over your face. “You eat already?”

“I had some applesauce-“

“Then we’re good.” He starts to move again, and now you’re attached to him like a magnet. You couldn’t move away if you tried. “Bed.”

You’re frayed and wired and on edge, trying so hard to find the will to insist he stay and eat, but Dean’s so warm and suddenly you’re drunk on him. He’s sturdy and soft in all the right places, herding you back to bed with hands on your shoulders and mumbled praise about being his dream girl, making him bacon for breakfast and lovin’ him more than he deserves, and you wish you had enough backbone to just shout at him that he does deserve your love. He deserves whatever you can give him, including a baby that he needs to know about now before you explode.

But he gets you back into bed, splaying his body over yours and pinning you down.

“Didn’t see Sammy,” his head is buried in your chest, his voice muffled against your skin. “Where’dhe go?”

“Eileen’s.” You sigh, running your fingers through his hair. “I’m not supposed to tell you that, though.”

Dean chuckles, his hands drawing slow circles on your hips. “You’re a little backstabber, sweetheart. I’m never tellin’ you anything again.”

“I’m backstabbing Sam for you.” You shrug, smiling at the air. “I’d never backstab you.”

“’S exactly what a backstabber would say.”

You giggle. “You’re tired, Dean. Your brain’s not working right. Maybe if we get up-“

“Not getting up.” He grunts, squeezing your body. “Not until you get your own fourteen hours.”

“I’m okay, Dean-“

“No. Sleep.”

You sigh, squirming slightly under him. “You know, it’s bad for you to sleep in. It’ll mess up your circadian rhythm-“ 

Dean tilts his head up, frowning at you. “What’s going on with you?”

“I, um-“ You swallow, your whole body suddenly far too warm. “Huh?”

“You always make me sleep extra after hunts.” His voice is a little stronger, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Why’re you suddenly trying to get me up?”

“Nothing’s going on-“

“No.” Dean’s sitting up now, rolling onto his back and pulling you over his lap, his gaze stern. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong either-“

He says your name, squeezing your waist as he rubs his jaw. “Please just tell me. If it’s a body we can hide it, but I need to know if it’s a monster body or person body-“

“Why the hell would it be a person body-“

“I dunno, but if it is you gotta tell me, so I can grab the salt.” He cups your cheek, offering you on his charming, downright boyish grins. “I’m not letting any ghosts haunt your hot ass, babygirl.”

“Thank you.” You mumble, dropping your brow to his. “But it’s not a body.”

“So there is something.”

“Yeah.” You whisper. “But I… I’m not-“

“Hey,” Dean leans back, holding your gaze as he tucks some hair behind your ear. “Whatever it is, I don’t care. I’m helping you.”

You swallow, squeezing your eyes shut. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs, like it’s simple. Like this will really be that easy. “For you? Always.”

It takes deep breathes, and hands curled in Dean’s t-shirt—gripping him hard, making sure he won’t fly away or vanish into the air when you speak—but you do it. You run over your entire rehearsal one last time and let it all go, because Dean’s right here, in front of you, and you just need to-

“I’m pregnant.”

You say it, and he doesn’t vanish into nothing. Dean just stares at you, eyes wider than you’ve ever seen them, and whispers, “With a baby?”

“Yeah, Dean.” You offer him a small smile. “A baby.”

“My- my baby?” 

You open your mouth with a slight frown, and Dean’s hand flies to cover your mouth before you can speak.

“Wait, shit, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just-“ He groans, his eyes seeming to drive right into your soul as his voice because hoarse. “You’re sure? That you’re… growing one?”

You wish you could read him better right now. You’d laugh at him saying growing one.

Instead you just nod, and it’s like something flips in Dean. He grins—wide and toothy and unrestrained—and you barely have time for the relief to hit when he’s kissing you. Long and deep and passionate, until you’re dizzy and grinding down onto him, falling over his chest and clinging to his shoulders.

“Dean,” you gasp as he dives down to kiss a line over your collarbone. “Shouldn’t we, shit-“ He starts suck on a soft spot behind your ear, and all your exhaustion is starting to catch back up with you, so everything is really just a haze. “Don’t we need to talk-“

“No,” he mutters, rutting slightly up into you and chuckling against your skin when you whine. “Just need you, baby, need to- son of a bitch!”

Dean’s yanks himself up and twists to his bedside table—his hand on your hips holding you steadily against him—scrambling around the drawers as he mutters low words you can’t hear.

“Are you okay?” You ask, your hand fisting in his shirt once more. “I mean, I know you might have doubts about-“

You’re cut off as Dean surges back up to kiss you again, this one shorter and soft, but still firm. 

“No doubts, sweetheart.” He mutters against your lips. “And I’m better than okay. I’m fucking amazing.”

“Good.” You sigh, pulling back to scan over his face. “What was that, then?”

Dean smiles at you, and it’s… nervous. He’s almost never really, truly nervous, but this smile has no edge, no carefully designed charm. It’s just Dean, purely him, smiling at you like you’re holding his heart in your body.

You kind of are.

“I know I, uh, I don’t say it enough. You know I’m not good at saying it. But I do love you,” Dean says your name, and you blink at him. This sounds like a speech. “I love you so much it drives me insane. And I’d never want this, want a baby, with anyone but you. But, I, uh, I want all of this. Whole stupid, apple pie thing, just with you.” He takes a long breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “Marry me.”

You gape at him. “What?”

“Marry- shit, wait-“ Dean reaches slightly behind him, grabbing a small box, and pops it open with his thumb. There’s a diamond ring inside, and it looks like a real one. Not the ones you’d use on cases, that would give you a rash for a week after. This looks… carefully made.

Made for you.

“Dean-“

“Marry me?” Dean looks between your slack jaw and the box, his voice almost nervous. “Please?”

“I-“ This is going better than you could’ve ever even imagined. You’re not sure how to handle it. “I don’t want you to marry me just because you knocked me up-“

“Baby, I didn’t pull this ring out of my ass.” He drawls, his voice a little firmer. “I’ve been getting ready to ask you for months. I was going to kick Sammy out next week, make a picnic in the library-“

“Really?”

“Yeah, I-“ He frowns. “Why’d you think I was poking about your ring size?”

“I don’t, um, I don’t remember you doing that.”

Dean laughs, shaking his head slightly. “That’s good. I was worried I ruined it. I, um-“ he glances down at the ring, his face falling back to the nerves, and you realize you haven’t actually answered him yet. “I haven’t-“

It’s your turn to kiss Dean, and these words aren’t difficult to say at all. “Yes,” you whisper, pressing another, smaller kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’ll marry you.”

“Awesome.” He grins, and the ring is barely on your finger when he’s diving back into you, kissing you until you can’t ever remember anything has been difficult in your life. 

You yawn right as Dean pulls away, and he chuckles. 

“You alright, sweetheart?”

You hum, nodding. “I’m good. So good. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Dean says your name in your ear, and it’s quiet and gentle. Not like a secret, but a promise. “How’s a day in bed sound? We can try and get you pregnant again.”

“That’s not how it works, babe.” You giggle, folding a little deeper into his hold. “I’m gonna have to buy you some books.”

“I’ll read them.” Dean kisses the top of your head, and you can feel his smile on your skin. “For you.”

“Thank you.”

“Course.” He sighs, squeezing your body slightly. “We’re having a fucking baby.”

“Yeah.” You smile, and there’s that piece of him, shining on the surface. All joy and wonder for something that’s really just good. “We are.”

End Note: Dean Winchester in my head this is indeed the life you live every day. Season 15 isn't real it can't hurt me.

Title from Waste by Foster the People

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[logans-whore]

Hi~

I was reading your old man logan one-shot and mwah chief kiss

Can I ask for some more old man logan and young reader?maybe he's unsure of whether he should give into his desire or keep pushing her away but when he saw her laughing at her phone or talking to a boy friend of hers he loses it?

Or anything like that love yaa

I swear I'm working on my other requests, but holy hell, this caught hold of my brain like a dog with a chew toy and it didnt let go. This can be read as a prequel to this fic, but can be read as a standalone too! Also this turned out way fluffier than I thought it would, but oh well. I hope you like it!!!

https://www.tumblr.com/logans-whore/773031900713451520/may-i-please-ask-you-to-write-something-for-old?source=share

Logan is fully aware that he's too old for you. He's too aware, if you're the one being asked.

The two of you were the only ones to survive the Westchester incident, him because of his healing, you because you hadn't been at the mansion on the day of the incident.

So you, him, and Charles move in together, hiding away. Later, Caliban joins you.

Now, you've had a thing for him for years. But seeing him there, caring for you, for Charles, being protective, and providing? Yeah, that scratches the lizard part of your brain just right.

And he notices, sees the way you look at him like he's the only thing you'll ever want. And he turns you down, over and over again, keeping you away. He's way too old for you, and starting to look it too. You deserve someone young. Someone good, and kind, and caring and perfect, like you.

And you're not the kind of girl to push it. To force a relationship with someone who doesn't want you. (Or so you think. He wants you. Very much. He's just an idiot)

So you put yourself out there. You've been working as a waitress to help pay the bills. And a customer gives you his number, and he's sweet and funny and cute, and you say yes. Thinking this is your chance to get over Logan, to move on, find someone new to love. You start texting him, and he seems great. You really like him, and you think, with time, with patience, maybe you could grow to love him. Not the all encompassing, full body experience that loving Logan is, but maybe a simpler, less painful love.

Logan on the other hand, sees you texting. All the damn time. After several pointed remarks on phones, and how young people should get off them and have a conversation, he finally asks who you're texting.

When you tell him about Adam, the cute guy from the diner, his heart drops. He's grown to love you, to love your kindness, your compassion, the way you look at him, how absolutely fucking stunning you are. And thinking about you with anyone else? Hell no. You're his. Not that you belong to him, but you're his, and he's yours, the way only people in love are each others.

And he can't lose you, he realizes with startling clarity. He just can't.

So the next morning, as you make breakfast, about to start your shift, he slinks iinto the kitchen, looks you dead in the eyes and says. "I love you."

You nearly drop the spatula you're using, choking on your own spit. "W-what?" you sputter, surprised and confused.

"I love you" he says again. You look at him for any sign of him joking, of him playing some fucked up prank. You find none.

"I'm sorry I didn't say it before", he continues, like he hasn't just dropped the emotional equivalent of an atomic bomb on you. "I'm sorry. But I love you, honey. And I don't want to see you with anyone else but me. I know-" he hesitates, but continues. "I know I said I'm too old for you. Know I said you should find someone your own age. But I'm taking it back. And I'm asking you, not to fall in love with him. I want you in love with me."

You stare at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "You- you're serious?"

"I just gave you the cheesiest goddamn speech I've ever given in my life, of course I'm fuckin' serious" He grumbles, and you can't help but laugh, before crossing the distance to stand in front of him and kissing him stupid

"I love you too," You murmur against his mouth, and feel him beam against you, smiling into the kiss. "I'm not gonna fall for him. I'm already in too deep with you"

Hours later, when he's fucking you into the mattress, you cry his name over and over again, and he knows, warm and safe in your arms, in your heart, that you mean it. That you're his, and he's yours.

Logan is full aware that he's too old for you. He loves you anyways.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

okay I woke up really mad on Ed's behalf again. Sometimes I rewatch the end of s1 and it makes me want to shake Izzy around in my mouth like a chew toy.

Listen. Listen. I genuinely think that it helps the message of the show land that Izzy got better. I like that the crew tried to help him explicitly even though he didn't deserve it and had been nothing but a dick to them, just because they wanted to be that kind of people. I like that Izzy acted as proof that even those most resistant to Stede's kind of healthy masculinity can have their lives improved by it. Objectively I think it's good storytelling, even if it could've used more room to breathe, and it says far more about Stede than it ever could about Izzy. I think it is good that the writers did not consider the dumbest online discourse when they constructed this narrative.

But also. I will always be so angry at how so much of the discourse around Izzy's arc puts all the responsibility on Ed. Yes, we have proof that Izzy can get better and become a better person when met with the right circumstances, extreme as they are. We have proof that Izzy can grow to no longer be such a bully.

But that shouldn't have to be Ed's responsibility! Ed gave Izzy a million chances, including immediately and with no qualifiers accepting him back right after Izzy sold them out to the English, tried to gaslight Ed about it being for the best if Stede was shot right in front of him, and even literally fucking bought Ed from the English. Ed is already giving this guy more chances and grace than he ever should've been expected to. It shouldn't have to be his job to hold Izzy's hand and help him grow as a person, especially not when Izzy so consistently treats him like shit. Ed gave the guy a tremendous amount of patience and grace and frankly the fact that he only shot him once is something I take as evidence of Ed's restraint.

Oh but Izzy cried about it. I forgot that white tears are the most important thing we're supposed to feel bad for. Never mind Ed's tears, I forgot we're supposed to trip over ourselves fawning over the white guy when he cries. My bad. Ed should've just let Izzy call the cops on him again

[waynes-multiverse]

Eeeeek, I'm bursting with excitement! I wanna know so badly what happens next. I've been hurrying to get the kid to bed to read this 😂😂

You follow his lead with your own rifle, falling into step with him through the forest clearing. It’s a beautiful day in late November. Already you can see the edge of frost on the shrubs and half-barren trees. The ground is littered with dead leaves painted in browns, oranges, and dappled with reds.

I love this description btw Really painted a picture in my head 😍👏

You snort. “Right. Think I’ll just leave you for the bears…”

Ouch. That line probably haunted her afterward 😂🙈 (but I loved their banter! You can totally see they have a close and loving relationship 💕) And her dad's optimism and "fate" was so adorable ☺️

You don’t see the elk, and soon enough, you don’t see your dad either. You do hear a whistling on the wind, and the cold of it cuts right through your coat.

Goosebumps... 👀

Dean continues to listen intently with his brows furrowed.

Ah, our boy entered work mode 🤓

Dean has packed up his supplies and put on his winter gear. You watch him from the living room sofa, trying to hide your unease. You know he’s doing this for you, but there’s part of you that doesn’t want to see him leave, for his own sake, and selfishly for yours.

Oh God 🙈 No, I can't watch him leave alone. At least get Sam!!! Oh God, no, no, no, no... 🫣

I also realized in that moment why my readers are usually "from the same foxhole" because this is exactly what I can't do. Freaks me the fuck out and gives me so much anxiety. Like, I have to be there 😂 I don't know how you do it. Bravo, friend 😅👏

“You shouldn’t be going out there alone,” you say.

Nooo, but you shouldn't follow him either... With the broken ankle 👀

“If I’m not back inside a week, you need to ration out the supplies here as best you can. That new meat in the fridge should last you a while.”

A week?!?!?! *gasps*

By new meat, you have to assume he means the bear.

Ooooh, btw, super interesting what you said about the bear meat! I figured something like this. They did wear bear fur, right? And I know people back then never wasted anything, so makes sense they'd eat the meat, too 😄

Right now, you don’t really give a shit about what he’d rather, but you don’t say so.

I cackled 😂 Love her feistiness!

After the first three days, you’ve managed to clean the entire cabin, top to bottom.

Oh God! I'd die worrying... 🙈🤣

On Day Four, you create a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of the living room floor.

Aww 😭😭 Poor thing... 😢 (Loved how she explained not taking his room. While invasive, I think if Dean came back to this in his room, he would've melted 🫠🫶)

Then, you hear the sound of a lock turning, before the front door shoves open.

THANK FUCKING GOD!!!!!

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your hair. “Believe me, I am.”

I knew it was a long shot, especially when her father wasn't with Dean, but still breaks my heart for her 💔😢

He brushes your cheek with his thumb, collecting your tears there. You glance down at his plush lips again, your own parting with a breath. His hand moves to cup your cheek, framing the side of your face. Please… He finally drags you to him in a kiss.

The anxiety is long forgotten. All is forgiven... *sighs dreamily* 😍😍

“Sorry…we can’t do this,” he says, with difficulty. He sits upright and nearly makes you fall over in the process.

Oh no, you come back here, young man!!!

It wouldn't be Dean, though, without the "you can't date me, I'm dangerous and not good enough" freak out 😂

“I don’t even own this place. Besides my car, I ain’t got much of anything to give.”

Legit crying right now 😭😭😭 This is exactly why we always want what's best for him in fanfics. He deserves it so much 🥺

Or at least, it’s heat of a different kind, as his strong hands once again find your waist. They hold you still, but also hold you to him.

Love that little detail. Makes such a huge difference ❤️

Oooooh, I so can't wait to read the finale now! This is absolutely amazing, Alex! It's got the right amount of angst and heartbreak, only to haul me back into this sweet cabin romanticism 😍🤍🤍🤍

Against the Wind - Part 3

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Merry Christmas! I'm dropping this chapter a day early for you guys. Now, here's the full story, and what Dean is going to do about it…

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, mentions of blood, hint of spice.~

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 3: Nothing Left to Burn

“We should start heading back,” you say, looking up at the mid-afternoon sky. It was starting to dip toward the top of the trees in the distance. “It’s going to take a couple of hours to get back before nightfall.”

“Yep, it’s about that time.” Your dad groans as he starts to haul himself back to his feet, where you two had been taking a rest against a tree. “Jesus, I need a new pair of knees. Help your old man, would ya?”

You smirk as you help the middle-aged alpha to his feet. His joints pop and his back cracks as he stretches his arms high.

“Damn, Dad. You’re creakier than the trees,” you quip.

He tosses you a wry look. “Just you wait. In a few years, after wrangling a couple of pups, you’re gonna feel my pain.”

“A few years?” you laugh. “Did I miss the part where I actually met a decent guy, let alone one worth mating?”

“Oh, you’ll find him,” your dad nods, slinging his rifle back over his shoulder. “Or he’ll find you, like your mother did with me.”

You follow his lead with your own rifle, falling into step with him through the forest clearing. It’s a beautiful day in late November. Already you can see the edge of frost on the shrubs and half-barren trees. The ground is littered with dead leaves painted in browns, oranges, and dappled with reds.

“You met her in college. It’s not like you guys defied fate,” you say.

“Yeah, but if she hadn’t walked into my psychology class by mistake, and stolen my latte at the campus café, maybe you wouldn’t be here,” he teases. 

You huff and roll your eyes. Yes, your parents are a walking cliché. And by far, your dad’s the bigger sap.

“I’m telling you. Sometimes, the universe does us a solid,” he says, reinforcing his point with a literal pointed finger your way. You push it away from your face in exasperation.

“You might wanna watch where you’re going,” you say, “before you roll your ankle on another pebble.”

“You kidding me?” he exclaims. “That thing was the size of my fist! You’re lucky I didn’t break an ankle. Make you carry me all the way back to the car.”

You snort. “Right. Think I’ll just leave you for the bears…”

You trail off when a sound reaches you and your father. The sound of leaves crunching in the underbrush, quick and light. Your father’s shoulders straighten with alertness, the alpha’s head cocking toward the sound.

“Maybe I spoke too soon about the bears,” you whisper. He shakes his head.

“Nah, too light. It’s probably an elk.” He tosses you a smile. “We’ll have one hell of a haul to bring home, plus a good story to tell your mom.”

Your mother, the vegan veterinarian?

“Yeah, because she loves elk meat.”

“Would you quit being a smartass for two minutes? You go a little west. I’ll see where it’s at,” he says.

He quietly wracks his rifle and steps away from the clearing, farther into the woods. You do what he says, veering west. You don’t see the elk, and soon enough, you don’t see your dad either. You do hear a whistling on the wind, and the cold of it cuts right through your coat.

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

“Go, get out of here!” he shouts and waves you off.

“What? What is it?!” you yell.

He shakes his head, like he’s unable to answer your question. “Run! Run and don’t stop!”

He moves further into the denser trees until you can no longer make him out. With a frustrated huff, you sprint down the hill and try to follow his tracks with your gun at the ready. On the wind, in the distance, you still hear his voice.

Until it cuts off abruptly, along with the terrible cracking of bone.

You gasp and halt in your steps. What the fuck was that?

Tears fill your eyes and blur your vision. Despite what you heard, you realize just how very alone you are in the clearing. Fear and adrenaline make your breath tremulous and shallow, but you can’t just give up. You search for a while longer, making yourself hoarse calling out to your father.

No matter what direction you take, you never find him.

“I ran back to town to get the rangers,” you say, brushing a couple of stray tears from your cheeks. You sniff, licking your lips and swallowing a hard lump of emotion in your throat.

Dean continues to listen intently with his brows furrowed.

“It was too late,” you sigh. “He disappeared. They explained it away, thought a grizzly bear got him, but I know it wasn’t a damn bear.” 

You shake your head as the tears come harder and faster, all over again. Dean’s jaw clenches in sympathy.

“No one believed me about what I heard, not even my mom,” you confess. Your mother had been too distraught to entertain “anything else.” No matter how strongly you’d felt about your suspicions, you understood that she just wanted to put your father’s death behind her after his funeral. Part of you had stopped believing yourself. 

A stronger part of you hadn’t been able to let it go, however. So you had to come back here and try to find any trace of your father. 

When you finally run out of words, you see the proverbial gears turning in Dean’s eyes. 

“What’re you thinking?” you hazard to ask. You can’t help but reach out and grab at his wrist. “Do you…do you believe me?”

Dean’s gaze softens a fraction. He lays his larger hand over yours.

“Yeah, I do,” he says. “I’m willing to bet on what took him too.”

He squeezes your hand before he lets you go and gets up from his seat. He soon returns with his father’s journal in hand. He reclaims his spot across from you, sitting close to your thigh on the end of the chaise. His gaze falls away from your face to the journal in hand, and he flips it open to a page he knows from memory. You suck in a subtle breath to steel yourself when he turns it toward you—to the very page that had given you nightmares the first night you read it. 

Wendigo. 

“Nasty son of a bitch,” he says. “It hibernates for decades at a time, but when it surfaces, it knows how to get through long winters like this. It takes a handful of people at a time, feeding on its victims slow.”

You feel sick at that, but still, his words elicit a sliver of hope.

“So there’s a chance he could still be alive,” you say, in a brighter voice. Dean gives you a measured look, dragging a hand over his mouth.

“Look, I’m gonna be straight with you,” he says. “It’s been months, right?”

You nod, though you realize what he’s saying. Don’t get your hopes up.

“But there’s a chance,” you insist, with tears in your eyes. Dean holds your gaze for a moment, and he nods. He squeezes your knee this time, then shuts the journal with one hand as he moves to stand.

You follow him on your crutches over to the kitchen. He pulls out a drawer and retrieves a folded-up map. Tossing the journal on the kitchen counter, he opens up the map and lays it out flat next to the sink. It’s a map of the mountain, and the entire forest surrounding the mountain of Big Sky. Dean’s eyes flick up to yours.

“Where did it happen?”

Dean has packed up his supplies and put on his winter gear. You watch him from the living room sofa, trying to hide your unease. You know he’s doing this for you, but there’s part of you that doesn’t want to see him leave, for his own sake, and selfishly for yours.

“Try not to go outside again unless you absolutely friggin’ have to,” he warns. “And if you do, don’t go too far. Make sure you take a weapon, preferably a gun and a knife.”

“Dean, I know,” you reply. You get up and hover by the couch while he finishes lacing his snowshoes and hooks his backpack on. You’re unable to hide your concern.

“You shouldn’t be going out there alone,” you say. 

Dean tosses you a grin. It has the shade of how he was with you before the “journal” incident—self-assured, a hint teasing.

“Don’t worry. This isn’t exactly my first solo mission,” he says, though his devil-may-care attitude soon subsides into something more serious. “If I’m not back inside a week, you need to ration out the supplies here as best you can. That new meat in the fridge should last you a while.”

By new meat, you have to assume he means the bear.

“When you’re healed up, you can make your way down the mountain and back to town with that map I left for you. Kitchen counter,” he says.

Your frown worsens. You step closer to him with the pretense of closing and locking the front door for him after he leaves.

“Dean,” you say, stopping him at the door. He turns to look at you over his shoulder. You hesitate, fidgeting slightly, but you gain your courage.

“If you don’t come back, I’m going to find you,” you warn him.

Dean frowns. He turns to you fully and tilts his head as if to say, come again?

“No, you’re not, Omega. You understand me?”

His terseness doesn’t scare you anymore. You glare up at him, quite literally standing your ground.

“You didn’t leave me out there when you didn’t even know me. You think I’d do that to you?” you counter.

At that, Dean has to pause, tilting his head slightly. He almost smiles at your stubbornness, and just like that, his annoyance dissipates. It softens him, making him reach for your arm in an assuring squeeze.

“I appreciate the thought, but trust me. I’d rather you look out for you,” he says.

Right now, you don’t really give a shit about what he’d rather, but you don’t say so. It’s written across your face anyway. Dean’s mouth tugs at a smile.

“All right, I’m out,” he says. “Save me some of Yogi in there.”

You huff, but you shut the door behind him after he steps out onto the porch, down the steps, and beyond. You move to the living room window and watch him get farther and farther away from the cabin. 

Despite the crackling fireplace, you begin to feel cold inside. 

After the first three days, you’ve managed to clean the entire cabin, top to bottom. With the “new meat,” you make a large batch of soup to last you throughout the week. You freeze a couple of servings for Dean.

For when he gets back. 

You try to fill up your time in other ways, like attempting, and failing, and trying again more successfully to make bread from scratch. You haven’t binge-watched every season of The Great British Bake-Off for nothing.

Then you organize all of the alpha’s books by author. You wash all the laundry you can find and fold everything neatly on his bed, and you put away the couple of sweaters you’ve borrowed from him into your own dresser. 

On Day Four, you create a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of the living room floor. In your anxiety, it’s a reflex you can’t help. Your initial instinct was to nest in his room, but you thought that was too invasive of his privacy, so the living room was your next best option. At least his scent is still somewhat imbued into his favorite chair, and around his records. (You do steal another shirt of his to sleep with though.)

On Day 8, your worry becomes a living thing. You pace the living room and the kitchen on your crutches, probably wearing down the wooden ends of them while you debate what to do. Despite what Dean told you to do if he didn’t get back, you know you’re not just going to leave him out there. But the reality is, you have a problem of mobility.

With a frustrated huff, you decide to try setting your problem foot down normally. Your ankle hurts, a sharp pain shooting up your calf and nearly sending you to the floor.

“Fuck!” you gasp, both in shock and aggravation.

You know this isn’t just a sprain. At best it could be a fracture, since no bone is protruding under the skin. It still means you shouldn’t go after him either. 

But you’ll have to try. 

After you manage to clamber back onto your feet using the crutches, you put together some supplies, including the extra med kit in case he’s hurt. (Or in case something happens to you while you’re out there.) This is a bad idea, you think, even as you heave on your jacket.

Then, you hear the sound of a lock turning, before the front door shoves open. 

A yelp of surprise escapes you, though you soon realize that it’s Dean, looking worn down and ragged, but alive. 

“Home, sweet home,” he says wryly, but he looks relieved to see you too.

You help him sink down onto the chaise, where he stretches out with a groan. He tips his head back on the cushion. His jacket is torn in a few places. Blood has dried on his cheek, his neck, and near his hairline, and you worry about where else he might be hurt. 

You quickly go to the kitchen and pour a bowl of warm water and grab a hand towel. You bring it all back to Dean, where you set your supplies on the floor and sit down beside him on the cushion.

“Are you okay?” You try to calm down your racing heart (and the nauseous feeling in your stomach) as you help him work open his jacket, followed by his shirt. Discreetly, your eyes take in the expanse of his tanned skin and pebbling nipples exposed to the cool air, even with the fire roaring nearby.

“Yeah, just peachy,” he says. 

You smile a little. You take the towel, dampen it, and begin to clear the blood from his cheek, his neck, and the upper part of his torso—even his scuffed hands. Then you squeegee out the blood in the bowl and continue your task. Dean subtly watches you, his gaze a bit softer than usual.

He eventually looks you over with a frown as he takes in the way you’re dressed, and then the backpack by the door. 

“What, about to go for a little afternoon stroll?” His sarcasm turns to annoyance. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put until you can actually walk?”

Your mouth flattens into a line, but any anger you might’ve felt is waylaid by your relief. It brings tears to your eyes. 

“I thought something happened to you,” you say.

Dean hesitates. Your hand has stilled on his chest. He softens a little more, grasping your hand in his larger one. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “The job’s done.”

Your eyes widen. “You found the…thing? The wendigo?”

His mouth pulls at a cocky grin, tempered only by his tiredness, and the way he’s looking at you. “Sure did. Tried to take a chunk outta my ass, but a little aerosol deodorant and a lighter’s all you need to barbecue that ugly son of a bitch.”

You smile in amusement, but all too soon, it fades.

“Did you find my dad?” you ask.

Dean’s expression sobers as well.

“Yeah, I think so.” His face gentles. “Was he wearing a blue puffer jacket?”

Your lips tremble. As that horrible realization dawns, you break down into tears. You already know from his tone that your father was dead when he found him. 

Dean guides you down to him by your shoulder and wraps his arms around you. You bury your face into his neck, and your body shakes with quiet sobs.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your hair. “Believe me, I am.”

He holds you close, warm and secure. He allows you to stay there as long as you need, where you feel safe, even if this world has become a colder, darker place. 

After a few minutes longer, your intense sobs begin to subside. You don’t mean to, but you turn your nose into Dean’s neck, scenting him on reflex. It calms you down, but it has the unintended effect of arousing him. The alpha rumbles in pleasure. 

You blink in surprise and lean back enough to see his face. Dean’s lips press together as he looks down on you; he seems embarrassed, but you also see the heat reflected in his gaze, so intense in those forest greens. Your face begins to warm in a blush.

He brushes your cheek with his thumb, collecting your tears there. You glance down at his plush lips again, your own parting with a breath. His hand moves to cup your cheek, framing the side of your face. Please…

He finally drags you to him in a kiss. 

It’s heady and passionate, and also comforting. Your fingers wind into his hair, your nails scraping along his scalp. He growls as his arm tightens around your waist. You shiver in delight.

You press a hand to the center of his chest, giving you leverage to rise up and slide your thigh over his legs. There you sink into his lap. Your breasts pillow against his chest when you lay on top of him, your elbows digging into the cushion on either side of his head. His hands move down your body, feeling down your sides, squeezing your hips, and then your ass. You hum into his mouth and roll your hips into his. Already you feel him hardening through his jeans.  

But somehow he breaks away from your kiss, even though your hands are still in his hair. 

“Sorry…we can’t do this,” he says, with difficulty.

He sits upright and nearly makes you fall over in the process. He grabs your arm before you tip over, but he keeps himself at arm’s length from you after you’re forced to slide off his lap, sitting on the end of the chaise instead. Your eyes glisten with hurt and confusion. 

“Why?” is all you can ask.

He doesn’t want to answer. 

“Dean?” you ask, inching towards him. He raises a hand to keep you at bay.

“Just…it’s not a good idea, okay?” he says, with the clenching of his jaw.

That cuts into you even more. Your heart pulses with pain.

“Do you know what your scent is to me?” you ask, in a voice slightly trembling. You glance at the fireplace that has dimmed to embers. “It’s better than that fire at full blaze. Every time I went camping with my dad, that’s what I loved the most. Sitting by that fire, talking, laughing, and for the millionth time, telling the story of when I gave my sister micro bangs in her sleep when I was ten.”

You wipe a stray tear from your eye, but you respect the distance he’s put between you two.

“The second I met you, I knew what this was,” you say. “I think you know it too.”

Dean shakes his head. His face betrays his wariness, his desire, and his obstinance. 

“Look…even if that’s true, you don’t want this with me,” he says. His handsome face becomes marred by a frown, his brows knitting together. “I don’t even own this place. Besides my car, I ain’t got much of anything to give.”

You shake your head in dismay. “I know that’s not true.”

“I’m not bullshitting,” he says. “Listen…I’ve never had much. And what I did have, I found a way to lose. I’ve let my people down. Just about everyone I’ve ever…”

You can’t help but reach out a hand for him, your heart hurting, but he leans away, pressing himself back against the seat. It cuts even deeper into you; now though, you wonder if it’s because he feels the same gut feeling you do when he’s this close—close enough to touch, but almost afraid of the burn.

“They’ve been hurt, almost always because of me.” His voice shakes imperceptibly, with a wry, humorless turn of his lips. “So take it from me, sweetheart. You’ll wanna steer clear.”  

“Dean,” you say. You expel a breath, digesting his words, while thinking of what you want to say.

“I’ve never not felt safe with you,” you confess. “Even when I screwed up and drove you crazy, I’m sure, I knew you’d never hurt me. The same way I know…”

You reach out a tentative hand to lay in the center of his chest, over his heart. Your thumb brushes the edge of his strange tattoo, over the dark ink in his skin. 

“You’re my mate. My one, true mate in this world,” you say, meeting his eyes. “And I want to know you.”

You see inner conflict in the depths of Dean’s eyes, dark green and troubled. You take a chance and lean in, brushing your cheek against his, nuzzling, laying a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“Omega,” he warns, but the grit in his voice has little heat.

Or at least, it’s heat of a different kind, as his strong hands once again find your waist. They hold you still, but also hold you to him. Your gentle affection is making him ache, deep in the shadowy cavern of his chest. He’d never admit it, but loneliness had set in there, burrowed deep with a stronghold on his heart. Without knowing, you’ve been carving it out with those gentle hands. 

You now slide your hands up his chest and over his shoulders, warm palms on his skin. 

“Alpha, I want to know you,” you insist. Quiet, but steady, your voice is a mere brush of words near his ear, against his cheek. “Please.” 

Dean’s brows furrow as he briefly shuts his eyes tight. With your whispered plea, the brittle chain of his restraint finally snaps free. 

He cradles the back of your head and guides you back into a feverish kiss.

AN: Sorry to cut it off there lol, but the big (steamy) finale is coming up next week! Perhaps a little earlier than Friday. 😘

Next Time:

“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.

You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.

“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

Your lips curve upwards in return.

▶️ Keep reading: Part 4 (Finale!)

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[rejectedbytheempty]

from the dirt we rise, ch. 4

pairing: farmer!john price x reader, no use of y/n

word count: 2.1k

cw: misogynistic language, brief violence

synopsis: when your car breaks down in the middle of the english countryside, a tall, dark stranger comes to your rescue

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nathan blinked at you, almost as if he was waiting for your words to catch up with his brain.

“what did you say?” he asked in a dangerously calm voice. your bravery wavered the moment the words left your lips, resolve melting under his dead stare.

“ye heard her, she’s done with yer sorry ass,” johnny said, startling you from your staring contest with nathan. his friendly demeanor had shifted into something more menacing, the blue of his eyes seeming to ice over as he glared at nathan.

“i know what she said,” nathan practically hissed out, staring down johnny before whipping his attention back to you, “i want to hear you say it, because i don’t believe you.”

you started stuttering, finding yourself floundering under his withering glare. to be fair to nathan, this wasn’t the first time that you had tried to break up with him, and each time you had come running back, like he had some kind of evil curse on you. though, that wasn’t fair either, it wasn’t as if he was all bad, he helped you out of multiple depressive states and he never made you stay with him, necessarily.

“she’s not saying it again, once is enough” john said, stepping in front of you, half-blocking your view of nathan. you peaked around john’s frankly massive stature to look at your boyfriend, whose face had gone red in the face with rage.

“oh yeah? well, i’m not leaving this house until she says it.”

simon, who had been a silent observer, took this chance to step closer to you, “you try that and you’re getting tossed out on your ass.”

nathan looked between the three men, as if just now realizing the predicament he was in, then looked back at you, almost pleading.

“please, babe, don’t do this. i don’t know what kind of bullshit these men have been putting in your mind but i promise that i’m the best thing for you. i mean, look at all i’ve done for you, i’ve put up with you-“ nathan began saying, and you didn’t know if it was the fact that you had three huge men willing to beat him up for you or the fact that something inside you snapped but you cut him off.

“put up with me? put up with me? are you serious? do you know how many times i had to justify our relationship to my friends? my family? how you never have anything positive to say? how many times i’ve had to apologize when you were in the wrong? i’m sick of you and your excuses, so you want to hear it again? i’m breaking up with you, for good.” you huffed slightly at the end of your rant, feeling the weight of your relationship slipping off your shoulders.

nathan’s face seized up, twisting into something ugly and spitting, “fine. i knew you were a whore anyways, you know these men only want to help you because they want to fuck you, right? and that’s what you deserve, to be a worn out hole for men.”

that was all it took before your fist connected with his face. he went sprawling out onto the carpet, head connecting dully with the floor. the room went silent except for the sound of nathan’s quiet groans from the ground.

you never expected that punching someone in the face would make your hand hurt that bad, but there you were, sitting on the couch with a bag of peas on your knuckles.

after nathan had recovered as much as he could, john had grabbed the back of his shirt and lifted him in the air like a mewling kitten, gotten close to his face and told him he had five minutes to pack up and get the hell out of his house.

you weren’t really sure where he went but he couldn’t have scrambled out of that house faster than if his ass was on fire. while john was handling your boyfriend, or, ex rather, johnny congratulated you on your punch, saying that he never wanted to get on your bad side. simon just grunted in agreement, patting you on the back before retrieving the frozen bag of peas that you were currently holding to your aching hand.

you realized that in the couple of hours that you had been here you had hurt both of your hands, and you laughed when wondering which body part would be next.

this startled john who had been sitting in the room with you, reading his book. “what’s wrong?” he asked, putting down his book and moving to get up.

you shook your head, “no, no, i’m okay, sorry. i was just.. never mind, i’m fine.”

he calmed down visibly at your words and settled back into his chair. after the whole debacle with nathan, soap and ghost decided to head home early, figuring you would need some space to process things, and they could just eat dinner at home, simon adding that johnny might be too much to handle after a breakup. this led to the two of them bickering as simon herded johnny out the door.

although you did miss their presence, you admitted to yourself that he was probably right. you kept running over your breakup with nathan, finding yourself tending back into your doormat tendencies before you shook yourself out of it and the cycle began again.

you were knocked out of your thoughts by john asking, “you hungry?” you hadn’t even noticed that he had gotten up from his chair, the book long abandoned on the sofa. you chewed the inside of your cheek as you shook your head.

he looked slightly worried, standing there for a moment before he spoke again, “okay, well, there’ll be a bowl of it in the fridge for you in case you want any.”

you nodded, “thank you, i’m sorry.”

that just made him look even more worried, “hey, don’t apologize, if you’re not hungry, you’re not hungry, nothing you can do about it.”

you swallowed back another apology and just nodded. he gave you one last look over, seemingly analyzing the state of you, then deciding that you were alright for the time being and turning on his heel back towards the kitchen.

you sat there on that couch until the peas had all but thawed out. your hand was still throbbing but the pain had faded to a dull ache, so for the first time in a couple of hours you moved from your spot and rose to your feet. you headed to the kitchen, peering around the corner first to see if john was still in there cleaning up, which thankfully, he was not.

you tiptoed over to the freezer and put the bag of peas back before shutting the freezer door gingerly, wincing at the loud noise it made.

“you don’t have to sneak around, you know?” you yelped and jumped slightly in the air before turning around to see john leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. his face had an annoyingly amused expression, seemingly taking joy in the fact that he had startled you.

“christ, you scared me,” you said, clutching your chest and leaning against the counter.

“sorry” he lied, “thought you knew i was there.”

you just glared at him, which ended up having the opposite effect you intended as he laughed and shook his head.

“i did mean what i said though, no sense in sneaking around, i already know you’re here,” he said, making you flush slightly as you realized how stupid you looked.

“yes, i know you know i’m here,” you sputtered out, finding that that’s the best comeback you could come up with at the moment.

he shrugged, leaning off the wall and uncrossing his arms as he walked closer to you until he was right in front of you. you swallowed thickly as you looked up at him, having to crane your neck slightly to meet his eyes.

“you’re blocking the fridge,” he said, and you felt your face heat yet again, of course that’s why he was standing in front of you like that, not any reason your mind was coming up with. you quickly moved out of the way, muttering a hasty apology. he opened the door and took out a bowl with a lid on it and motioned it out for you to take it, “you hungry yet?”

as you took the bowl from him your stomach audibly growled and you smiled sheepishly, “guess so.”

after insisting that you go sit down at the kitchen table, he heated up your soup on the stove, then placed the steaming bowl in front of you. you muttered out a soft ‘thank you’ and he smiled softly in return.

you picked up your spoon and then looked at him, “so.. are you gonna watch me eat?”

“i’ll do whatever you want me to do,” he said, looking down at you.

it was too bad that there was already a spoonful of the soup in your mouth because you choked indelicately at his words. taking a moment to catch your breath you shook your head, “i’d prefer if you didn’t watch me.”

he shrugged, “as you wish” and he left you to your dinner.

as soon as he left the room you put your head in your hands, “fuck, what is wrong with me? he just made you some dinner and you’re already blushing and giggling like a schoolgirl!” you whispered harshly to yourself. you scrubbed your hands down your face before shaking your thoughts away, resolving yourself to finish your dinner without any more stupid thoughts.

after you had finished, you washed out your bowl and put it on the drying rack because he didn’t have a dishwasher, something you found slightly egregious, but it did go with his whole homestead vibe.

you walked back into the living room and he was reading on the sofa again. your head cocked slightly in surprise when you realized he was wearing wire-rimmed reading glasses on the tip of his nose.

you weren’t sure how you didn’t notice it before but there they were, making him look like some kind of distinguished librarian.

he looked up at your small giggle, peering over the top of his glasses at you. “what’s so funny?”

you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling again as you answered, “i just.. wouldn’t think that you would wear glasses?”

he raised an eyebrow, taking them off and folding them with his chin, “and why is that?”

you bit the inside of your cheek, “i don’t know, you just seem so.. manly and.. i don’t know, i just never pictured you with glasses.”

“manly..” he repeated slowly, “i’m too manly to wear glasses?”

you shook your head, laughing slightly, “sorry, it’s dumb, it just made me laugh.”

he chuckled at you, “well, i’m an old man, and i need to see. usually i wear contacts but at night i take them out and wear my eyeglasses.”

“to be honest, now that i got over that initial shock, i think they suit you” you admitted.

“not really sure how to take that, but thank you” he said, mirth crinkling at the edges of eyes. it was silent for a moment, just the crackle of the fire john had lit in the fireplace filled the air.

“i’m.. i’m going to head to bed, if that’s alright with you,” you fiddled with your hands at chest height.

“you don’t have to ask permission to go to bed,” he laughed.

“i wasn’t asking permission,” you retorted, it was embarrassing how easily john could turn your words around on you, “i was just.. making sure there wasn’t anything else you needed.”

“from you? darling, i don’t need anything from you, alright? don’t you worry about me.”

there you went, blushing again, which made you utter out a quick “good night!” as you turned from him and headed up noisily up the creaking stairs.

after you finished your nighttime routine you heard john head up the stairs as well, his footsteps passing by your door and heading towards his room before you heard the door close softly. peeling your ear off the door, you paced backwards and then flopped on the bed, sighing loudly.

maybe nathan was right to be worried about you, it hadn’t even been a whole day after breaking up with him before you found yourself getting a schoolgirl crush on the farmer whose house you were crashing at.

as you slipped under the covers you tried to summon tears over ending your relationship with nathan but all you could think about as you drifted off to sleep was john standing in front of you, his gaze shifted downwards into yours.

a/n: lol sorry, it’s so embarrassing how long it takes me to get these out 😭 and also!! i am shit at writing dialogue so the awkwardness at the end was both intentional and unintentional..

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[bedouinpoet]

Leader, lover, sir, and broken dream Part 2

Part two of the three. Hope you enjoy my lovelies. Part three coming soon.

warning: 18+ only, smuuuut 🫣dom Hotch, mentions of drug and alcohol use, cheating.

Chapter 2, High on Hotchner

1 year later…

You and Hotch never spoke of that kiss after that, you secretly hoped he was more willing to fight for you. But the case went by easy enough. You found the supposed “short white dude” however despite his insecurities he didn’t match your profile especially when you realized the unsub was a woman. You and Reid figured out it was Victoria Baird’s friend Lindsey who had been doing the kidnapping and murdering, jealous of the attention the girls had, feeling she had deserved it more, you found Victoria alive, and the case was a classic profile. After that case you and Reid got closer, he’d invite you to movies in the park every Sunday, and your friendship grow and you were so glad to have an uncomplicated love, a friendship, and even though you two were just friends, when around Hotch, you made sure to hug him more, lean your head on his shoulder, tease him. Maybe you wanted to punish Hotch, or maybe you were just a glutton for punishment, but you wanted Hotch to be jealous, you wanted him to fight for you, to want you, maybe that was toxic but you felt like he deserved it. However even that didn’t last, because one year after that Kiss Aaron Hotchner moved on, and got a girlfriend, Beth. And you couldn’t even deny it, she was great, great with Jack, great for Hotch, clearly made Hotch happy but it seemed everyone else already knew about Beth except you, you were the last to find out after supporting him during his triathlon. At first you were gonna ignore it, brush it off but it simply kept biting at you, finally Pen made a good point that you couldn’t argue.

“if you and Hotch are actually gonna at least be friends then BE friends, that means TALKING! My lovely lovely iron heart girl. Actually talking, even about the icky uncomfortable talks about feelings-“ she had a point so here you are waiting, waiting for Hotch to be alone and once Garcia leaves she gives you a thumbs up and whispered “good luck” and you make your way to his office. You tap gently on his door, but it’s enough to get his attention. He looks up at you in momentary surprise but quickly reverting back to his usual serious disposition. “Y/n? What’s up?” You stand awkwardly in front of his desk, trying desperately to not remember all the things you two did on that desk, and his chair, and the sofa, and the floor. You sit down so he doesn’t see your legs shake as you get hornier, closing your legs and you clear your throat. “I just wanted to talk to you about something if that’s okay?” “of course” he puts his hands on his desk casually and you refuse to look at those stupid sexy big hairy hands. “Hotch….why didn’t you tell me about Beth? I mean….it just seemed like everyone else knew about her? Specially Dave BUT me, and I thought we agreed we were gonna try to be friends-friends mention that sort of thing Hotch-“

”do they?” His tone seemed accusatory and you didn’t get why but his face remained the same furrowed eyebrow way “what?”

“Well you said friends say these kind of things but when I asked you on repeated occasion what’s going on between you and Spencer Reid, you tell me its none of my business or accuse me of only asking because I am jealous.”

you feel your cheeks flush with shame but that heat then turns to anger and defence “that’s different Hotch and you know it-“

“how so?”

you feel your attitude showing up even though you told yourself not to make this an argument, every time you two have spoken you end up bickering “because I’m not accusing you of boning a co worker AGAIN first Morgan then Reid, Jeeze it’s like you think heaven forbid someone could just be friends with me without me wanting to fuck em!? And for your information no. Me and Reid are just friends. Close friends sure, but friends….and if that’s seriously why you didn’t tell me about Beth that’s pathetic and petty as hell!”

You feel in your gut you crossed the line by calling him pathetic and petty as he clenches his fists almost shaking. His eyes became an absolute storm. For a moment you want to push that storm further, you want him to punish you for such ‘insubordination’ but you feel yourself stop, he’s with someone you remind yourself, this isn’t a game. But that look, that dark foreboding, domineering look that drives you crazy and it gives you the courage to not back down. As he continues

“you really expect me to believe that? I see how you two are together, always hugging, hands on each other-“

”yes because we’re FRIENDS! I hug my friends, I’m like that with Morgan too and with Pen, my love language is touch you know that.” He scoffs “well that’s pretty unprofessional in the work space-“ you raise your eyebrows in absolute shock you can’t help but laugh, that feeling of Deja vu again becoming overwhelming but this time you aren’t backing down, you wont give him the satisfaction of submitting. “Are you fucking serious right now? I think we both know that argument is null in void Hotchner or are you forgetting the last time we had this talk, as I recall THAT time it was jealousy and you speak of professionalism here when you didn’t give much of a shit about professionalism when you bent me over that desk and fucked me to next Tuesday!? And you know what I think that’s what this is about…I think you ARE Jealous still!” You spot a blush on Hotch’s cheeks, as his eyes darken at the mention of what he did to you but then he averts his eyes for split second. Then he re builds his composure, his confidence resurfaces when he scoffs and rolls his eyes “Don’t be ridiculous y/n….i am your boss, no one else speaks to me the way you do and yet maybe that’s my fault I let it happen too long and you think this behaviours is ok-“

“Don’t scold me like a child and your diverting-“ your blood begins to boil over.

“Then stop acting like one! And I’m not jealous of anything, I have nothing to be jealous of” his face falls in guilt as he sees the pain in your eyes. That struck you far harder than expected with absolute burning venom to your veins. It takes the breath out of you and the fight out of you too. You feel you really may have been stretching it thinking he still cared for you in that way. You stand up, your body moves as your mind shuts down. “Y/n where are you going?”

“I didn’t come to argue Aaron….I mean Hotch….I just want to be friends” your feel tears in your eyes yet you can’t seem to cry. You finally look at him as his voice turns gentle “y/n I-“

“its fine Hotch….I’m sorry for overstepping, I thought we were friends I guess I was wrong….see you Monday Boss”

with that you left. The idea of staying in any proximity to Hotch was something you couldn’t bear right now…

…

You spent the first two hours at home crying and drinking, then drinking and reading, then putting on your tv flipping through channels, passing every romance movie with venom and hurt. Until you finally land on one your favourites “Ha! Halloween movie marathon perrrrfect Fuck romance” you slightly slur to the empty room, you order a pizza and some wings and start to watch, after having some wings you feel yourself slightly sober up. That’s when you remember you have a few joints somewhere hidden in the kitchen, you rummage through, desperate for a new distraction. What were you thinking, acting so cocky with Hotch!? Thinking he was jealous when he has…Beth. You finally find the pack you hid for a rainy day and dam it was storming in your mind. You sit down and light up the first joint, after the fifth puff you’re already glad you remembered these little delights when ‘knock knock knock’

“fuckl!” You whisper blowing out your puff waving the smoke away like that will get rid of the smell,

knock knock knock

“yes yes yes alright I’m coming!”

You open your door roughly only to stop dead almost losing your breath as you see Aaron Hotchner, disheveled, tired eyes, standing at your door ‘fuck…I am too damn drunk and high for this’ you think as anxiety fills you that Hotch, a unit chief of the FBI, Aaron Hotchner a fricken Profiler will definitely spot the dilated pupils, the smell, your change in character….have you been standing here too long?

“um y/n? M-may I come in?” You move aside still scared to talk like you’ll shout “I’m stoned as fuck right now dude” so you stay quite as he steps inside, his faint smell of cologne makes you want to swoon into his arms. You notice even his clothes are disheveled, his tie loose around his neck, no suite jacket, shirt wrinkled, now your scared

“Urrrmm….Hotch? What’s wrong?”

those joints are really starting to kick in and all you could think is how thirsty you were and not just for water, hoping this will be quick visit so you can help yourself. You also really need to sit down.

“Nothing….i just- y/n I hate the way we ended things today, can we please just talk? Please?” You feel your breath quicken but you can’t say no to his pleading. But you did way too much weed for a serious conversation “are you okay?” You just nod “water want some?” Is all you Can say. He smiles thankfully“sure thanks”

“cool…sit down I’ll bring us”

you fill your cup and chug it down for dear life then fill it again and a cup for Hotch.

You start to whisper to yourself “don’t trip don’t trip don’t trip” you slowly give him the cup as your eyes widen as you realize how fucked you are, you see all the bottles on the table in front of Hotch….and the joints. You notice a slight knowing smirk pulling at his lips

“thaaaat….is….medicinal” the smirk becomes a full blown laugh like honey “did you ever really believe that when someone told you the same lie?”

“Nah, I usually look the other way when it comes to weed, what are you gonna do cuff me?” You wink and his eyes turn from light laughter to darkness, your mouth is dry but your panties become wet.

“You know you shouldn’t admit that to me, I’m your boss”

you shrug sitting down next to Hotch and lift one of the fresh joints “we’re off the clock and this is my home, right now you’re just some dude who knows where I live” he merely laughs and shakes his head “ok fair point” he starts to watch you intently as you lift the joint to your lips, in your mouth as you light it up. Being the brat you are you take a deep inhale. You look back at Hotch and smirk “want some?” You offer it to him and he seems clearly hesitant.

“Oh sorry you probably have to go to Jack I wont keep you-“

“actually Jack is having a sleep over at a friends house and….well Beth lives in New York now”

“Oh….im sorry that must be tough with your schedules”

He looks away from you and you fear you said something.

“Yes I suppose but I go when I can and vice versa”

“that’s good at least…so….since you don’t have to drive I repeat the offer….want some? You can crash on my couch if you want….unless your scared, goody two shoes” low blow but thankfully his laugh shows he knows your teasing and he takes the joint and inhales like a pro. Your shock evident as he laughs and inhales again.

“Aaron-I don’t know your middle name- Hotchner….have you smoked weed before?” You puff twice before handing it back to him….He tries to not cough as he laughs

“goody two shoes? What are you twelve? Who says that now?” You find yourself laughing uncontrollably, a proper laugh, that rolls off you effortlessly. You haven’t felt this in a long time “maybe, now answer the question doody head” you take the joint from him. He laughs and shakes his head

“Well I wasn’t always the ‘goody two shoes’…I used to actually be the problem child when I was young, I was always getting into stupid trouble…” he paused like deep in thought, you shuffle closer beside him and nudge his knee “so? What happened to make the Hotch we all know and love today?” You hope he didn’t notice you saying love and he clearly doesn’t as he takes two rather large puffs and passes it back “I grow up…I figured I had two choices, keep making the same bad choices or be the person my family needed me to be after my dad died. I had to be there for Sean and mom and I wanted….I wanted to be good enough for Haley” he trails off again and you allow the moment of silence for her… and for him. Finally you clear your throat passing it back “well…sounds like little Aaron was pretty smart and I’m glad he made the choices he did or else we wouldn’t have you” you kiss his cheek like it was the most natural thing to do…Fuck your stoned, why did you do that? Hotch blushes and smiles flustered, his smile allows you to breath a little…”thanks y/n”

“Any time hun”

you look into those velvety chocolate eyes, his eyes are blood shot but his pupils become so dilated you wonder if that’s all the weed or if, like you, he’s horny as hell, your eyes dart between his eyes and mouth and you notice him doing the same, staying on your lips long enough to make you lightly lick them. You feel as if times stopped and the air is heavy, the room closing in. Hotch opens his mouth to speak a few times still flustered “I should-“

“yea”

and without a thought you grab his shirt and kiss him like there’s no tomorrow, you stop only for a moment to make sure he is ok but as you looked at those eyes, that handsome, painfully loving and brave face, without thinking you say. “I shouldn’t have turned you away….i was in so much pain that day and I was scared, even though I wanted you….want you…so bad…I need you right now Aaron” his eyes darkened looking at your pleading horny filled eyes, you were so wet it was uncomfortable sitting so still.

“y/n-“ he searches for what to say, so you stop him “please ….Aaron”

Hotche’s breathing hitches at the sound of his name, you can tell he’s holding back, like an animal in a cage, but that cage is wavering. You start to squirm needing to feel his touch so bad. You damn near pout lightly caressing his leg. “Fuck it” he growls as he grabs you by the neck and pulls you in for a kiss that feels like it can consume you. His touches rough, needy, possessive he grabs your jaw holding it tight as he growls “open your mouth baby” you obey without question and he puts two fingers in, you suck them desperately, he quickly hisses as you start to palm the hard-on that’s fighting against his pants. He stares at you sucking his fingers like it’s the hottest thing in the world “fuck sweetheart the things I want to do to you”

“do it…do all of it…punish me sir please I need you” he shoves his fingers back in your mouth this time rougher, like he’s angry.

“want me to punish you for being the pretty little tease you are hmm? Want me to punish you for all your insubordination, looking at me with those eyes, wearing those dresses, showing off what I can’t touch, you know how much that killed me? Trying to make me jealous huh?” All you can do is gag just wishing he’ll use his cock soon, he takes his fingers from your mouth grabbing you by the neck “answer me baby…I wanna hear what you want” you stutter, trying to think of words as you feel his touch like a drug under your shirt moving up to your breasts (thank gosh you decided not to wear a bra right now) he pinches your nipple “answer me y/n” he pinches harder and you shout “fuck! Yes….yes sir I want-fuck- I- need you to punish me, fuck me, let me taste please sir” if this was anyone else you’d feel pathetic but with Aaron….it felt right, you wanted it and more so right now with how high you both were, every touch felt like an orgasm you just needed more. “p-pl-please…Daddy”

It was the first time trying that nickname but it had the effect you hoped for. Aaron growled and gave a gutteral moan and his lips was on yours, this time biting your bottom lip so hard it bled, he stood up and his every action just got you wetter as he looked down at you, slowly taking off his belt “be a good girl, take off your shirt now” you feel yourself shake at his gaze as you take your shirt off slowly, anything for more. He unzips and lowers his pants and boxers just low enough for his cock to spring out. You forgot how big his cock was you swallow at the idea of having it down your throat, excited as you see the pre cum glisten his tip. Hotch grabs your jaw tight forcing you to look up at him. “Open wide sweetheart….wider” you open as wide as you can, your tongue sticking out to finally get a taste. He smiles down at you like a sight to behold “mmm good girl, you’re gonna take my cock like my good slut and you don’t stop till I say so….nod that you understand and agree babe” you nod repeatedly just needing to feel it. Without warning he shoves his cock deep down your throat, you gag and choke but you just want more as you put your hand at his base, he doesn’t let up, he pulls your hair thrusting hard….you wanted punishment, he’s going to give it to you

“fuuuuuck y/n your mouth feels so damn good! Fuck that’s right take it baby…you wanted to get me jealous huh? Knew it would drive me crazy seeing Reid and Morgan’s hands on you- fuck!” His legs almost buckle when he thrusts so deep your nose touches the little hairs at his base and you gag

“fucking take my cock and remember who you belong too”

hearing his possessiveness through his guttural moans as he grunts and thrusts deep down your throat drove you crazy, you had to touch yourself or you’d explode. You put your hand down your shorts and you rub your clit, moaning and gagging on his cock, his hands tight gripped on your hair. You hear Hotch’s laugh, a dark, horny laugh “you just can’t wait huh sweetheart? Your pussy needs it huh….what does your pussy need baby tell Daddy?” He finally lets you breath, the tip of his cock playing on your lips, slapping your face

“you sir, please, my pussy needs you Aaron please”

he cups your face the first moment of gentleness and for a moment you think he will give in. He rubs his thumb on your bottom lip, smirking with dark eyes like he has plans. “You really thought I was gonna make it so easy? Tsk tsk tsk you’re gonna suck my cock a little longer and no touching that clit unless I say-“ you start to whimper “but-“

“no buts, give me your hands” you obey reluctantly, confused and excited for whatever he has planned. He grabs your wrists with one hand, grabbing his belt with the other. You watch in excitement, heated, needy awe as he ties your hands together. He keeps a hold of your tied hands while he uses his other to continue pulling your hair. Full control of your body. His breathing staggering as he orders

“open”

you obey taking every inch until you gag, the moment he hears those sounds he thrusts harder and harder. Your throat burns but you don’t want it to stop, even for water, you feel tears start to roll down your cheeks, your spit down your chin, all of it just makes Aaron rougher, his breathing ragged as his thrusts become more sporadic. You know he’s close you suck his cock like your life depends on it. “fuck y/n!” with that final thrust you feel his cum down your throat and coat your mouth. He thrusts a few more times just to make sure every drop is down your throat. As he gets out he closes your mouth “swallow babe” you do “again” you do and open your mouth just to prove you swallowed it sticking your tounge out. Hotch takes his opportunity putting your tongue in his mouth kissing you as he takes off your shorts. Caressing every part of you then pinching your nipples hard enough to make you shout “Aaron!” He pinches again as he kisses down your neck biting hard at your pulse point….you know he’s gonna leave a million marks and it only turns you on more.

“A-Aaron please I need you I-i can’t wait please” your pleading evident in your entire body as he looks at you with those caramel eyes and you know he’s given in. He kisses you gently “let’s go to your room it’s time your pussy got some attention sweetheart”

his boxers and and pants already off the only thing standing between you and Aaron Hotchner’s naked body is his dress shirt and loosened tie…you take his hand leading him to your bedroom, as you smile back at him you see Hotch taking off his tie, and unbuttoning his shirt with one hand….fuck what those hands could do. The second you close the bedroom door after you, Hotch pins you to the door hard enough to knock the wind out of you and no time to take a breath with his lips on yours again, you start to pump his already hardening cock as you feel his fingers tease your clit at an excruciating pace, you can’t remember the last time you felt so good and remember that it was always like this with Aaron, like he knows your body and every weak spot you have. You grasp his hair for support as he sticks two fingers in you relentlessly and you grab his hair harder as he groans. “sir..please no more teasing I need you so bad”

with your final plea he lifts you and takes you to the bed, putting you down and in that moment he’s on top of you, you feel an overwhelming sense of warmth, this feeling like everything is right, he looks in your eyes and you can see he feels the same way “y/n- I-i love you”

your heart pounds at the unexpected confession and you feel speechless all you can do is kiss him over and over as he adjusts himself to your entrance and thrusts home. First at a slow pace allowing you to adjust to his size, but then he stays at that pace to tease you until you wrap your legs around his waist, just wanting to feel every inch of him stretch you, with that his pace turns relentlessly harder, and harder and harder as he pulls your hair and bites your neck, your shoulder, cupping and squeezing your breasts as you moan his name over and over as he groans and grunts, and praises “you feel so good honey so fucking good” it’s like candy to your ears and you can’t get enough as you feel that coil inside you about to snap, you scratch down Hotch’s back and you clench his cock, moaning in unison as you orgasm on him and he fucks you through it. Your entire body shakes and you feel Aaron’s pace go harder and faster as he chases his own high. Until he’s about to pull out but you keep your legs wrapped around him

“y/n I’m about to cu-“

“in me please I wanna feel it” with that permission he lets go thrusting hard and deep making sure his seed is deep inside. For a few minutes you both just stay there. His head nuzzles in your neck as you play with his hair, his cock softening inside you. “I think you should sleep in my bed tonight….couch is too far away and I’m cold”

he laughs in your neck “oh I see, I’m supposed to be just your heated blanket?” You nod excitedly

“yup…no other reason Mr Heated blanket you run hot I need heat it’s like free heating”

he laughs again and you could listen to that sound for eternity as he stands up and you feel his warmth missing and it makes you whimper he leans in to kiss your forheard “I’m just getting us some water sweetheart….that was a lot of marijuana you need to stay hydrated, do you need anything else honey?”

You try to think but all you do is stare at that man’s body so you smile and shake your head “just hurrry I’m cold” he takes a moment to look at you and leaves. You start to really get cold so you snuggle under the blanket making sure to keep the space for Hotch as he comes back in. He hands you a cup “drink” you take the cup “thanks” you’re about to put it down when “nun uh uh drink, that pretty mouth and throat worked hard today. Need to hydrate baby…” you smile, your heart..you feel cracks in that wall you built up. He takes care of you, he understands you, like no one has ever understood you and your after care is a piece of heaven. You drink some of the water and lay down as he does the same, taking you in his arms and holding you as close to him as possible. you both doze off in bliss….until the next morning when everything hits and everything falls apart…

to be continued

[pastlivesxpastlie]

𓍯𓂃Lovesick

mdni 18+

Summary: Vessel becomes fixated with you after you provide him some comfort at a party. Are you as gone for him, too? Pairing: Vessel x fem!reader wc: 4.7k head's up: vessel x you, smut with plot, friends to lovers, afab!reader, no y/n, oral sex (m receiving), pining + yearning, talk of male masturbation, texting, absolutely idiots in love, angst, bit of a slow burn (?), use of "good boy" and "good girl," tit play, couch sex, cowgirl, light choking, HEA, threats of waxing poetic about progressive metal

Taglist aka Situation Enjoyers™️: @lifemod17 @glitterghost @inv3ga @adenobabe @jeriiicho @milk--bones @myaudiocommentary @horsebiologist @intake-of-breath @fruitsandcheese @0hg00dgirl @goosepond69 @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul @lynzeequitlollygagging @thatxxjiyong-ssi @cloudy-soul @daddysaidbringthethunder @cheomain @evisnotok

“On your knees….please. Yes, like that. Mmmmph. Thank you.”

Vessel can’t help but still be polite. He can’t believe his eyes. Nor the feeling of the night air on his hard cock. He’s floating above himself and watching himself get jerked off outside at a house party. It’s not enough that he feels the spit on your palm. That could be his hand and this is just an elaborate fantasy. One of many.

But it would be the first about you. You were untouchable. You’re just a friend…just a friend…just a friend…only a friend. 

“Can I use my mouth?”

Holy fuck. This is real life.

In his fantasies, no one asks. Vessel doesn’t dream about giving consent. He dreams of being craved. Taken. Always willing. His breath catches. 

“Hey, it’s ok,” you whisper, “we don’t have to anyth-“

“Do anything to me. Please.”

His head falls back with a soft thud against the house. Getting head was always fun but this felt therapeutic. You had, of course, asked Ves why he seemed down. You always asked him those kinds of things. “Someone who cares asks those things,” he’d told himself, “but someone who loves you does something about it.” Now you’re on your knees in the dirt sucking him off. How did this even happen?

𓍯𓂃earlier...

Vessel slumped in the couch and mindlessly dragged his fingers on his thigh. He had made his rounds and said “hi” to the people he wanted to talk to and smiled awkwardly at the people he sought to avoid or didn’t know. He deserved a little sit down after that. The past few months had put him in a rut. There was always a post-tour slump but this one hit different. Vessel felt down. Down because he had writer’s block. Down because it had been gloomy this week and the week before and before that etc etc. Down because his bed was cold. Thinking back on the hook-ups during tour already got boring. The old encounters going stale. Does he hook up again with someone randomly against his better judgement or does he deal with it?

On more than one occasion, Vessel had been accused of being naive when it came to love, to which he responded, “I’m just being cautious.” Where some might be naive about love and affection and throw themselves at the first person who did the bare minimum, Vessel was naive in that he just figured people were being nice or he just got lucky. Otherwise, people didn’t really want to mess with being in a relationship with a musician. They’re broody. They’re too busy. They’re married to their work. They’re full of themselves. Vessel internalized those things. Sure he was broody to begin with, but that was his brand. But everything else, sure, he could be married to his work and keep himself busy. “Just earth sign things!” Easy as that. And maybe one day someone else’s indifference towards commitment would rub off on him. His rumination is interrupted when the couch sinks a bit beside him and he feels a soft punch on his arm. 

“What does it mean when I don’t get ‘hi’ or your awkward smile, hm?”

His heart warms up a bit. It’s you. You teeter somewhere between “friend” and “good friend.” It’s always nice to see you but you leave it at that. You see each other when you see each other. He shrugs and looks over at you. “Didn’t see you. Bet you were hiding or something.” 

“Tsk. Fine. Maybe I was. We know too much about each other’s awkward little quirks,” you sigh. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to see you, though. How you been?”

Vessel laughs to himself, thinking of the miserable spiral you interrupted. “Imagine how much more awkward this could get if I told you the truth.” But you don’t laugh at his little self-deprecation. That makes him nervous. His insides churn. You’re just watching him, waiting to hear what he has to say. Why do you do that? So many people ask “how are you” because it’s polite…why do you care so much? “Look.” Vessel finally speaks again and flattens his hair. “I’m not great.” 

You shift and exhale softly. “Yeah. Me neither.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

He can see it in your eyes. You’re not trying to have some misery-loves-company-circlejerk. You have that same “mask” on as him. “Hate to hear that.” For a second Vessel feels something stir within him. Your tone is unenthusiastic but he knows it has nothing to do with him. He’s just glad to bond with someone, even if it’s over something lame like depression or whatever is eating at you both. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh just…general bullshit.” You shrug but Vessel knows whatever it is, you can’t just shrug it off. “Like if I’m so stuck, maybe this is where I’m meant to be. Even if it hurts.”

He makes an “o” shape with his mouth and is lost in thought. He has certainly felt that way before, but hearing you say it about yourself is heretical. He hates that you think that way. “No.”

“Oh. Well…alright. Thanks Ves, you healed me.” You chuckle dryly. He rolls his eyes and pats your leg. “So what’s got you down? For real.”

Vessel’s smile fades. “I feel…stuck as well. Just…going through the motions.” He scratches the back of his neck. “All the excitement of the last couple of months just…ripped from me. Gets hard to keep up with my emotions when I’m…frankly…bored. Bored of feeling this way. My own company.”

“I get that. Like you have to have things changing or moving all the time.”

“Exactly. Like some kind of jump that isn’t a substance or…whatever.”

“Hah…yeah… sometimes I just feel like…” you begin but pause.

“Like what?” Why are you blushing like that, he wonders idly. And why is it suddenly the cutest thing he’s ever seen?

“Uhm. I feel like…I need to get laid. That would fix me, right? Huge load of emotions and hormones released with someone you like…what could be better?”

“Oh is it that simple?” Vessel laughs. A genuine, warm laugh. You’re so silly, he just loves talking to you. And he loves how you laugh with him. He was scared for a second that you might take it personally, but he’s glad to see that you too have a sick sense of humor when you’re feeling unwell. 

“Maybe it is. Guess…we won’t know until…” you trail off.

“Until we try…” Vessel’s throat goes dry. He tries to swallow hard before nonchalantly scoping out how many people were on the patio. 

𓍯𓂃

Vessel always had to make things happen, and he was fucking exhausted from it. Now you were happening to him. You clued in on what he wanted when he suggested you both get some fresh air. Hell, you were the one who found the perfect spot for this tryst. 

“Y-you like doing that?” he whimpers. He can’t make out much of your features but he feels you nod and smile and…fuck, take him deeper in your mouth. He’s holding his breath. He knows he shouldn’t but if he doesn’t exert some kind of control over himself he’ll lose it. But when you grab his waist and start literally fucking your face with his cock he has to let go. He grips your hair, willing himself to resist overpowering you and thrusting harder against your movements. “Ffffff-fffuck.” He whimpers softly and bites at his lip… wishing you had kissed him before you got started so he could imagine it again while you savored every inch of him. His entire body shivers when you moan against his cock, making him realize you like the sound of his whimpers. His pathetic little pleas and moans.

“‘That feel good, Ves?” You whisper, stroking his cock as you catch your breath? “Hmm?”

He nods and whines, trying to not be loud. Thank god it was dark, otherwise you would have seen the tears threatening to spill. The way he bit his hand to keep from moaning out loud. What if you two got caught? What if another friend heard what you pulled from him? “Fuck…you’re gonna make me cum…”

“That’s a good boy.” Vessel feels his stomach drop as you start sucking him off again but with more enthusiasm. Like you need him to cum. And he does. But you don’t move…you keep your mouth on him. And he  might be the one cumming down your throat but he’s not claiming you. No. 

You. 

Own. 

Him. 

Somehow, and much to his delight, Vessel does not lose sleep over the ordeal or his new-found, all-consuming feelings for you. In fact, he’s never slept better. Sleeping once meant loud, restless dreams; now it means a nestling in and wondering about you before dozing off…imagining he’s holding you. He keeps telling himself it’s infatuation. It’ll go away. He’s just starstruck from the way you took care of him. But then…the ruminating started…

Each morning, Vessel wondered about you. Maybe today you’ll share something on Instagram that he can make a little comment on. Send a react. Yes, sure, you’re friends, but you’re not “close.” When he looked into your soft, sweet eyes the other night he wondered how a darling little thing like you learned to give head like that. Suddenly your life story became his Roman Empire. Were you a natural? Did someone give you gentle pointers the first few times? Or did you have to do it a lot to get good? Did you have to go jumping from man to man to find the love you so desperately craved? This made Vessel’s blood run cold. The thought of sweet, wonderful you merely being an option to other men. A small voice told Vessel that perhaps he himself was just an option. Maybe you did stuff like this a lot. One among many. Vessel chided this voice. Locked it in a dark little room with no ventilation. You were good. You wouldn’t use anyone. In fact, you probably did learn this from practice because who wouldn’t love you?

Vessel knows he’s being stupid. You two like each other but he won’t reach out. Then again, you don’t reach out either. That’s ok. He had no coherent plan of moving things forward. He was also terrified the spark you two shared would be gone if you tried hanging out again. What if you couldn’t handle his schedule? Or didn’t find it endearing when his moods never let up? What if that stupid voice was right? Most of the time, he resigned himself back to “I’ll see her when I see her,” and a cheeky wank to take the edge off. But that always left him feeling guilty. Empty. 

This particular morning he had been deep in thought about what your favorite position might be and how many times he could make you cum just from fucking you at a torturous pace that way. Today’s position of choice was doggy, but bent over his desk, on top of his notes from recording and writing sessions. That was what you deserved. You drove him to absolutely hopeless distraction…you should be bent over while he stands behind you, fingers melting into your flesh, holding you in place. He swears this will be the last time he jerks off thinking about you…but because of that he can’t help but edge himself. Thinking about you is easy. Not because you yourself are easy…but because Vessel realizes how naturally desirable you are. Seeing the way you took control and took care of him opened his mind to this entirely new world of fantasies. The heat blooming from his groin to his tummy made him stop for the third time. Yes, in this fantasy you were bent over for him…but there was more to it. You were doing him a favor. Good boys got to take breaks. Good boys stuck in a rut need to empty their brains and fill up their girlfriends. FUCK he wanted you to be his girlfriend so bad. And that thought scared him…as does the sound of his phone buzzing a few times. His train of thought vanishes along with his hard-on. Cursing whoever who messaging him this early, he grabs his phone but then makes the most embarrassing noise known to man. 

You: hey isn’t this a band you like?

the second message is the link to an instagram post

You: they��re doing a last minute show next weekend 

And sure enough, one of his favorite niche prog metal bands was playing in place of someone else at a local venue on Saturday. And tickets were dead cheap. Another message. 

You: if I knew anything about metal I’d go with you. Not sure how much fun I’d be 

Sirens! Flashing lights! All the bells and whistles going off in Vessel’s brain are firing. His inner little voices of reason (and everything in between) begin a debate.

“She’s flirting!” “Obviously, she’s flirting she sucked your dick.” “Can’t be that deep mate, she’s just now talking to you after a month.” “Sure it is, it is has to be flirting! She’s practically begging for you to invite her!”

Vessel: lol I could send you a playlist :)

“Mate, come on, what are you doing?” “Invite her over to hear the playlist. That’ll will be cute” “and then fuck her. Fuck her like the sl—“

Vessel rolls over and screams in his pillow. He will not have a meltdown over this.

Vessel: or we could throw you in feet first? Come with me? 

… … … 

Those infernal fucking “typing” bubbles are killing him. 3 minutes of that. Then no response. Vessel isn’t sure what he did wrong or if he did do anything wrong. He tries to go about his day but there’s still that nagging suspicion that he did too much. But when he least expects it…

You: sorry this is so last minute. are you busy tonight? 

Vessel: no, I’m not. Why?

He bites his lip as he waits to see what you’re planning. He wonders if you want to talk about what happened…or maybe do it again…or maybe act like nothing happened. 

You: I just don’t want to be alone tonight.  Vessel: I don’t want to be either.

It’s set then. He’ll go to your place…maybe have some drinks…maybe get a chance to thank you for the fun. He wanted to taste you. To make you cum like he did for you. Too many nights he spent wondering what you’re into. He had cast you in his mind as a soft domme, probably just because that’s what tickled his fancy at the time. But you had this caring…almost nurturing sense about you that night. You touched him like he was precious…like he would break if you didn’t take your time. He wanted to show you he was tougher than that. He could take it. The mere thought of even getting a chance to kiss you and make you feel even a fraction of the pleasure you gave him made his cock twitch. The time between now and when he was reunited with you would be torture.

But when he gets to your place, he doesn’t feel confident enough to act smooth or even touch you. If anything, he wanted to touch your hair. Literally just brush back the strands you missed when you tucked it behind your ear. Finally he musters the courage to stand beside you as you’re getting him some water. You’ve sucked his dick, the least he can do is move your hair. He moves in for the kill…but perhaps a bit too fast, because just as his hand reaches your personal space, you turn your head to look up at him and... receive a cheek full of Vessel knuckles. 

He moves quickly to cup your face, desperate to show you he didn’t mean to whack you, but he’s greeted with a surprised chuckle and your smile. Not that one you put on for friends or staged photos…your real smile. He could die happy right now. Just absolutely melt. If he ever wanted to write true, honest to god love ballads he would think back to this moment. This gooey, gushy feeling. He feels confident, the same confidence the mask gives him, and presses a soft kiss where he accidentally got you.

“Ves…” 

You still smile but he sees something behind your eyes. Vessel keeps his hands on your face…his heart breaking and stomach dropping. He had noticed you weren’t posting regularly on your socials and even then you seemed a bit less animated. He’s learned your tells. There’s smudges from yesterday’s eyeliner that somehow looks effortless but still betrays the fact that you didn’t wash your face last night. In his mind, Vessel likened you to a shrinking violet. The kindest, most gorgeous girl who ever graced him with her presence trying to hide herself away. This wouldn’t do. Even though he didn’t feel like he had the emotional energy for himself…he desperately wanted to be here for you. After the past four weeks of falling down a rabbit hole imagining you as a soft, caring, dominant partner, he suddenly felt needed. He wanted to provide so bad it hurt. 

“What’s the matter, love?”

“I…” your voice cracks and you shake your head. He backs off a bit, letting you have some space. “It’s been a rough few weeks. I’ve…missed you and felt like…a fucking idiot the whole time.”

Vessel nods and takes a drink of his water. “Yeah. Getting laid didn’t fix us, did it?”

You laugh ruefully and cross your arms. “It’s made me worse. How about you?”

“You first.”

You roll your eyes and stretch your neck. Vessel nearly loses his mind at how you bite your lip as you look him up and down. This is what he wants. To be under your gaze. Please. Keep him there. His breath catches. You could tell him to leave right now and he would. But instead, you keep talking. 

“To be completely honest with you, I didn’t think there was anything between us other than like…being friends. So I don’t know what came over me when I just…literally threw myself at you. I shouldn’t have done that. That’s…stupid reckless behavior.” You wring your hands a little and look down. “How can I expect to be taken seriously if I just—“

Vessel puts his hand up. “Stop that.”

“But I’m serious, Vess-“

“I said…’stop that.’ I take you seriously. I’ve always taken you seriously.” Vessel considers you for a moment. While he’d love to take you to bed, he’s desperate to lift you up. To reassure you. “Love, if you think you shouldn’t be taken seriously, imagine how I feel. You could have written me off as a jerk for letting you—“ but Vessel stops himself before he waxes poetic about your blowjob skills and ruins the moment. “I didn’t even follow you after we were done. Call you. Message you directly. After everything…I shouldn’t even have the chance to be with you.”

You shake your head and look down. “I know you’re not after one thing…I know it. But…why can’t I believe it? It’s nothing personal, I swear I just-“

Something deep within propels Vessel to pull you in for a gentle kiss…and to his utter delight you melt right into his touch. You fit so ridiculously perfect in his arms and mesh so well against his lips. He lets out a soft moan right as you break the kiss. Vessel had already been taken with you, but now he was enchanted. “Give me a month. I’ll show you how serious I am about you. It’s not just the sex…I promise.”

Your breath is ragged…you’re overcome with emotion and desire. You nod up at him. “All the time you need…”

“Good girl…” Vessel cocks his head, amused that he just called you that. He meant it in an encouraging way but…if the shoe fits. “Would you like that? To be my good girl?”

Your eyes get a bit dark, but not out of anything malicious. Your chin raises. “Ves…I would be anything you asked me to be. I don’t think you understand what you’ve done to me…” You pause but Vessel can’t even begin to formulate a thought. Were you as borderline obsessive as him? “You shouldn’t be on my mind the way you are. I mean…what are you doing to me? You’ve shown me so much kindness and your own vulnerability…that shouldn’t turn me on. It’s endearing and admirable, sure, but why do I…I just want to take care of you. I’m sorry I just…I feel guilty for…for falling for you because see me and you let me suck you off…I mean…how old are we?”

He’s taken aback a little. Something in your mind is tricking you. “Sweetheart,” he cups your cheek, “if it makes you feel any better, I feel the same. When I saw how down you looked a bit ago…” he shakes his head and sighs, “took everything in me to not start confessing everything just to see you smile. I want you. I want…everything that makes you ‘you.’ And I get the feeling you want the same…right?”

For a long second, you don’t say anything. You stare up at him, glassy eyed. He doesn’t need verbal confirmation. He’s passed that. He’s no longer timid about you. His lips meet yours in an agonizingly slow, tender kiss. Vessel’s hips press you against your kitchen counter, letting you feel his excitement. It wasn’t pure arousal. It was the excitement of being open and honest with each other. The emotional push and pull of comforting you but also receiving your reassurance did things to him. Oh fuck. Oh no. This was love, wasn’t it? Your hands pull at his hips, bringing one of his legs between yours. You moan softly, and he pulls from the kiss.

“Do you think about me at all?” He whispers breathlessly? You moan as his lips ghost your ear. The feeling of your thighs tightening around him makes his cock twitch. He wishes your thighs were around his hips…or even his face. You bite your lip and whine a little as your hips buck involuntarily.

“I think about fucking you on my couch everyday.”

Obviously the next stop is the couch. Vessel sits down and pulls you to straddle him. His kisses become more ravenous. Finally…the girl of his dreams is on him. He’d do anything for you right now, but he wants you a little vulnerable. You, of course, had been pining, too. What’s the harm in being pathetic together? He pulls off your shirt and nearly looses his mind when your soft flesh comes into view. Your precious tummy. Your squishy tits. Fuck. It was all his. “Get your pants off.”

You hop off his lap and do as your told. Vessel just watches and unzips his pants, adjusting them and his boxers to let his cock out. He bites his lip and strokes himself teasingly as he watches you pull off your leggings and panties. Drooling at the sight of your nude legs…the hint of your pussy. He beckons you forward seductively, a little taste of what’s to come once you’re in reach. 

“How wet are you, love?” He asks, letting his fingers dip between your legs. You moan softly as his fingers trail up and down your slit, enjoying the wetness he’s caused. “I don’t even need to help you, do I? Excitable girl. Aren’t you?” All this gets from you is a nod. You’re so gone. He leans back on the couch and pulls you toward him. He’s still completely dressed in his henley and jeans, but you don’t seem to mind. He positions you on his cock and lets you set the pace. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since you’ve been fucked, but he knows to be kind and let you adjust to his size. His eyes roll back and his head thumps against the couch. Something about how your body takes his cock makes his insides melt. You run your fingers through your hair and arch your back as you lower yourself completely on him. “Don’t move…don’t move, love.” He adjusts slightly to bring your chest to his mouth. His soft kisses and kitten licks pepper your breasts, causing your pussy to clench. It feels amazing. He’s being so gentle, but on the inside he wants to ravage you. Even after getting off everyday for a month thinking about you, you still excite Vessel into a frenzy. 

“Oh…oh Ves…” you gasp as he takes your nipple between his lips. You both moan as his cock twitches against your sensitive walls, but he keeps you still, cockwarming as he teases and makes out with your nipples. He shamelessly buries his face in your chest and moans, squeezing your ass to pull you close. Vessel can hardly believe it. You’re finally in his arms, his cock is stuffed inside you, and you want his love just as badly as he wants yours. He pulls his face away from your body to look up at you and whisper.

“You’re my girl now. You know that?” He puts his finger that had touched your pussy in his mouth and sucks, making sure you how see gone he is for you. “Gonna make you so happy…”

Vessel can hardly believe what’s coming out of his mouth, but pussy from someone who accepts you unconditionally will do that to you. He thought he was only built for fleeting infatuations and hooks up. But here he was…making promises he’d sooner die than break. After playfully torturing you with how his cock twitched inside you every time you kissed him or made a little sound, he starts to move your hips.  You look positively angelic on his lap completely naked taking his cock. His eyes roll back and he realizes that whatever half baked fantasy he had about fucking you didn’t prepare him for how good you felt. How warm and safe he’d feel under the weight of your body. It’s almost too much. Not that he’d cum yet. No. He just wants to say stupid things like “I love you;” and “we should move in together;” and “please call me a good boy.” That little submissive voice was still in him. He knew you were responding well to him taking control but he wanted that gentle control from you again. 

“Am…am I good for you?” He rasps out as you steadily grind against him.

“Mhm…so good…you…you like being good?”

Vessel’s eyes roll back and he nods pathetically. “Just for you.” 

You bury your face in the nape of his neck and suck little pink love marks up and down it. He moans with each one, clenching your body impossibly close. “I can’t move when you hold me like that…” you say backing up a little. You take his wrists gently and pin them against the back of the couch. He licks his lips and smiles dreamily. “Oh you’re pathetic, aren’t you?” Your fingers intertwine and he lets out a contented sigh.

“So pathetic…”

“You like being good but you like getting in trouble, too, huh?”

Vessel’s brain is mush. He knows you’re lightly degrading him and he fucking loves it but he has no concept of what’s happening other than “yippee perfect girl is being perfect.” He just nods and lets you fuck him for all he’s worth, cumming when you wrap your dainty hand around his neck. 

Later at what can only be described as a debrief at the pub, you share a large basket of fries. Vessel takes a deep breath as he attempts to act normal after having his mind blown and emotions pulled in all kinds of different directions. “This is good, yeah?”

“The fries?”

“For Christ’s sake…”

“Oh sorry, you mean…us…yeah. This is good. Really good. Are you scared?”

Vessel looks at the table and then at you. Honesty is his only option. “Terrified.”

“Same.”

He ponders for a moment and puts his hand palm up on the table. “Do it scared?”

You plop your hand down on his, “and together.”

“Now about this gig next week. I need to start your lectures on progressive metal-“

“Oh god.”

[rat6ix]

So what?

Nam-gyu x reader

Summary: you are horrible for each other but neither of you are gonna do anything about it.

Warnings: smut, toxic!nam-gyu AND reader, neither of them are good people dont be like them, degrading from both parties, switch!nam-gyu and reader, biting, doesn’t take place in squid game, talk of drugs; no description of either doing them but yall high as shit, reader and nam-gyu love each other in some kind of fucked up way…i think, reader is highkey a freak and not in a good way, choking but not the sexy kind reader is tryna kill him, but then again he finds it hot so maybe it is sexy..?, no aftercare.

Porn with no plot 😇

—

Wc: 1.1k

— 🐀

At this point you’re not sure nam-gyu remembers why you were fighting, the drugs in your system combined with the feeling of his cock shoved inside of you making both of your brains fuzzy, you could tell he was getting antsy —impatient even. You hadn’t moved since his cock had slipped inside of you, he didnt deserve it, Not until he apologized. His hands away from any part of you, you made it very clear you would have no problem kicking him out of your apartment , it wouldn’t be the first time he was on your doorstep begging for you to let him in.

You heard him whine from under you, obviously trying to keep himself from squirming. You could feel his cock twitch every time you shifted a certain way, you wanted to roll your eyes at how pathetic he was. His eyebrows were scrunched together, his eyes squeezed shut trying not to fall apart but you knew he would sooner than later.

“Don’t be like that, stop being a cunt nam-gyu look at me.” You teased.

Bringing your hand up to his jaw. You chuckled as he glared at you, his hands twitching by his sides. You know how much he wanted to flip you over and fuck your brains out but you also knew he wouldn’t cause his ego means too much to him.

“Fuck you.” Nam-gyu growled, his jaw clenched his eyes still glaring. You stared down at him blankly before you started laughing, you’d might as well have tears in your eyes at this point.

“You’d love that wouldn’t you.” you joked.

You rolled your hips, a smile still on your face as nam-gyu let out a strangled noise. You moved your upper body closer to his, your hand leaving his jaw finally. Leaning to whisper in his ear.

“Say you’re sorry and I’ll fuck you.”

He made a noise of defiance, jerking his head away from your’s. You leaned back up and frowned, reaching down and gripping his hair. He winced at the feeling, your grip tight as you pulled his face towards yours.

“Don’t do that nam-gyu, you owe me an apology for what you did.” You insisted.

When He didn’t answer your grip on his hair got tighter until he broke.

“Fuck—fine! Im sorry.” He pleaded tears gathering in his eyes from the pain.

“You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.” You chuckled.

You knew he didn’t and you were right, the look on his face gave him away. It was the face he always made when he was about to lie himself out of trouble. You knew him far too well for far too long for that to work on you. He didn’t know but you didn’t mind reminding him, your hands moving to his chest.

“Remember when you left me high off my ass on the bathroom floor of club pentagon tonight because you had “better things to do than babysit someone who cant handle their drugs”, hm?” You tilted your head as you spoke.

You were tempted to get off his dick kick him out right now just because he didn’t remember, luckily a nice girl stayed with you until you were sober enough to walk and he’s lucky you’re somewhat sober now or else you’re sure you’d be throwing his shit out of your bedroom window; you probably still will if he pisses you off again.

“You’re still mad about that?” Nam-gyu laughed.

His laughter didnt last long as you brought your hands to his throat and fucking squeezed. His eyes widened as you smiled down at him, his fingers trying to pry your hands off of him.

“C’mon say sorry.” You chuckled, doing your best to keep your hands where they were.

“Fuck— im— sor—sorry.” He tried his best to wheeze out.

Satisfied with his shitty apology you release your grip on his neck leaving him sputtering for breath and coughing. You looked down at him with disinterest, your fingers drawing shapes into his stomach. It took him a little bit to get back to normal, his eyes still wide looking at you. He opened his mouth to talk but you cut him off before he even began.

“I could feel your dick twitching the entire time i dont wanna hear anything you fucking slut.” You rolled your eyes.

You barely had time to register him flipping the both of you over, his hands on your wrists keeping you still. His face was unreadable but you could tell he was fucking pissed. It didn’t take long for him to start fucking his cock in you at a brutal pace, his ringed fingers moving to to dig into your thighs, You were definitely going to have bruises on them in the morning.

Your fingers digging into his shoulders kept you grounded, your jaw dropped a bit has he fucked you into your mattress. He was breathing heavy above you, his head hung with hair framing his face. You could hear him curse under his breath a few times before raising his head back up and flipping his hair back to where it wouldn’t obscure his vision.

“Looking a little tired nam-gyu—“ you laughed.

You were cut off by a particularly rough thrust, jolting you backward. You could nam-gyu had enough if your bullshit but that only made you smile harder as he got angrier.

“Stupid fucking bitch, always running your mouth.” Nam-gyu retorted, gripping your jaw.

It hurt to keep smiling, his fingers digging into your face, but you didn’t care. Your mouth open now as you drool all over his hand. He looks at you disgusted before letting go to wiping the drool all over your face. You laughed as best as you could with his cock still being shoved into you at an alarming pace. Your breathing was as labored as nam-gyus at this point, you could tell he was as close to cumming as you were.

Your hands went to the hair on his neck, he probably wasnt even feeling anything but you wrapped around his cock as you tugged at it. His eyes were trained on where your bodies met, occasionally looking up at your face. His hips were stuttering now, the way you were squeezing his cock not making it any easier. For the first time that night he leaned down and caught your lips in a bruising kiss, you decided to take pity on him and return it. After the kiss was broken you took advantage of the position you were in, digging your teeth into his shoulder smiling up at him when he pushed you back with a glare.

It wasnt long after that you both came, nam-gyu pulling out to cum on your stomach. The room was still, the only sound being both of your loud breathing. He rolled off of you a minute later, taking his place on your other side. You stared up at the ceiling for a while before getting up and making your way to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” Nam-gyu asked out of breath.

“Shower.”

—

Belongs to rat6ix

[thescreaminghat]

just thinking about tf armada optimus after unicron is defeated (spoilers), when he's been battered by fighting and is now drifting aimlessly amidst the debris in space and comes across the matrix of leadership, the very symbol of authority and hope for the autobots---the symbol that he chose to discard before accepting a final fight with megatron---and how he resignedly says, "i dont deserve it".

like ig there's the interpretation that he somehow "stooped down" to megatron's level by engaging in the 1v1, but i dont really get that vibe, and it feels a little too simple, even for the often questionable dialogue choices for the eng dub. i dont get the impression that somehow optimus is now "bad" because he accepted megatron's challenge, because he's been fighting megatron for fucking 10 million years, and it's presented as a "necessary evil" even though the whole point with the minicons is that conflict and war and fighting is, probably, more of a harmful thing than a good one, because megatron's purpose is to control and exploit the minicons for his own ends (i.e. the series series is still a kids' show, meaning certain tropes, like "the good guys ultimately need to come out on top", are still going to be used even if moral complexities are explored).

rather, i get the sense that optimus's somewhat mournful/regretful rejection of the matrix comes from the fact that he didn't fully acknowledge all sides of him and never got the change to. despite the fact that his obsession with op clouds his judgment like 99% of the time, megs knows himself way too well---there was no way on god's green earth that he and op were going to hold hands and kumbaya and that's what he lived by his entire life. bro held onto an infatuation of the millennia but also held a level of animosity and craving that likely rivalled the level of forgiveness and generosity of primus himself. and megatron accepted this, accepted that he wanted to battle and feel in control and in the end, when the only thing he had left to prove was to his forever rival, that was all he wanted: one good fight and he would be at peace with the outcome of the entire universe (im counting what happens in tf energon as its own thing at this point, it's way too messy of a direct continuation of armada). imo megatron stayed true to his own feelings without the necessity of hamfisting a redemption arc, he went through notable growth (biggest example being his shift after starscream's death) but in the end, there were parts of him that were never going to change, so in a way, he saw his journey through to the end and made the choice to sacrifice himself for optimus because of that acceptance

in contrast, i get the sense that because optimus must constantly act as a figurehead to the autobots, he's not truly able to be 100% honest with what he wants, and who he is. not that there's any doubt that he truly believes in his mission, and that he hasn't been deceitful or dishonest, but i got the sense throughout the series that optimus keeps a lot to himself because he can't be anything less than the protector of the matrix (e.g. when starscream leaves the autobots, hotshot, furious and hurt at the betrayal, starts yelling at optimus and doubting why he made the choices that he did, op doesn't say anything. instead he just walks away, with this pained silence following him out the door, leaving scavenger to chew out hotshot for "disobeying orders"---which seemed kind of, idk, a weirdly ironfisted way (at least from the autobot side) to shut down some genuinely good and earnest questions. and that specific moment of tension never really gets resolved, because optimus sacrifices himself to, in a way, "make up" for his and starscream's mistake). why doesn't he defend himself? if he truly believed in starscream and the inherent goodness of all cybertronians then why not express that directly to hotshot with passion, with conviction, with acceptance of all aspects of his own beliefs?

ig what im trying to say is, being the bearer of the matrix seems to instil (at least to me) this sense of "purity" or "virtuous aloofness" in optimus, whether out of duty or a genuine belief in those qualities as being the ideal. so when optimus discards the matrix specifically to fight megatron, and subsequently tells himself that he "doesn't deserve" that symbol of leadership, i think what he is berating himself for is having enjoyed a fight just a little too much or at the wrong time, having chosen to do something that wouldn't have fit the mould he had held himself to. his first response to megatron's reminiscing about how their fight reminded him of the "good old days" is denial ("i can't say that i enjoyed it").

tldr my interpretation (definitely wrong) is that op has a lot of responsibility and it seems to create a kind but also distant version of him in armada; it feels like op is repressing a lot of who he is and the rejection of the matrix brings him into the daunting realization that yeah, maybe that was for the better. maybe it's ok to not deserve that honour. he'll have to accept that and live with it, but it's ok.

[aidentitycrysis]

On the left is an official document issued to the Chinese government by the American Embassy, shared on xiaohongshu and apparently believed by normal Chinese folk, that is filled with so many lies it makes me want to rage puke- and I'm not even American. On the right is the translation of this document into English. Here's a little tl;dr-

- According to the American Embassy, the average American household income is $1.2 MILLION. This is clearly a manipulated statistic, but the method of manipulation is interesting- because for this number to make sense as an average, it would mean the wealthiest people in America could make every household millionaires and still be millionaires themselves. I don't doubt that this is, indeed, the mathematical average of American income, which is disgusting considering the income of the average American.

-According to the American Embassy, social security provides adequate healthcare, childcare, social services and pensions to a majority of Americans. They are literally saying you guys get FREE HEALTHCARE. At this point, everybody in the Western world knows this is patently untrue, no matter which way you approach the matter.

-According to the American Embassy, recent surveys have shown that Americans don't even consider 'millionaires' to be rich anymore. I don't even know what to say about this one, I'm lost for words! Every American I know would consider themselves, at the very least, profoundly fortunate if they were a millionaire.

- According to the American Embassy, food costs account for roughly 10% of household income, and a 1.3% rise in the price of groceries recently is in line with recent wage increases and therefore effectively unchanged. Is this your experience of recent increases in the cost of food? Pretty confident the answer is "LMAO no, wtf?!".

Look, I know I'm not American, but I care about several American people personally, and I care about human beings generally. I've spent time in LA and seen the homeless camps. It breaks my fucking heart to know that many of the people in those camps have done nothing to deserve it except be unfortunate enough to require a medical procedure.

Much like an abusive partner, the American government- under BOTH Republican and Democratic rule- have maintained a long running campaign of information control and disinformation that has thrived on the inability of most American people to communicate with Chinese people. Think about it- the right wing hate China because of the so-called evils of communism, and the left wing distrusts China for a slew of alleged human rights violations, few of which have been substantiated by anyone actually inside of China since the 90s. I'm forced to wonder how much truth there is to many of the things I've learned from sources that I've now found out are happy to manipulate statistics and outright lie in official government documents.

Look, I'm British, my government is evil as hell, all day every day, it doesn't matter who we vote for, they stay evil. Not only am I sick to my stomach about what an insult to humanity these documents are, it makes me wonder what lies my own government has hidden in foreign languages, away from the eyes of my working class.

Luigi said "This is an insult to the intelligence of the American people". He's right. They are insulting you. They are insulting all of humanity with this bullshit. I'm not saying put aside all your differences with people on the other side of the fence to you, but I am saying that they keep us from working together the same way they kept this document a secret- by making it unlikely that we will come together to have a rational conversation, rather than a debate, and compare notes. It's the same way they are stopping us from making any kind of meaningful change for the better as a society.

Every normal person in the West is struggling right now. We are all FUCKED, and we are only getting more fucked as time goes on. But the rich are still getting richer. The businesses we owe our paychecks to in order to survive have experienced record profits as they tell us they can't afford to pay us decently or offer a fair and affordable price for their services. This isn't just inept and indifferent- it's fucking sadistic. We need to put aside the political arguments we've been taught to have and start having conversations across the divide so that we have a chance to scare these fuckers straight at some point in our lifetime.

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

MY MASTERPIECE

drew starkey x plus sized!fem!reader

(mood board does NOT depict readers’ appearance !!)

SUMMARY: after drew catches his girlfriend crying about the hate she’s receiving, he decides to show her exactly how much he loves her.

based on this ask !! i really hope you like it anon, and i had such a lovely time writing this :’) i just KNOW drew would worship a plus!sized baddie, so imo this is canon🤫

WARNINGS: slight angst to fluff then to smut (18+ mdni pls!!), body worshipping, oral (fem rec), fingering, orgasm denial, blasphemy (“oh god”), insecurities, social media hate, crying, cursing, fat-shaming (fuck you if you do this, and you’re not welcome on my page !!) i think this is all? (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

THIRD PERSON +

The dim light of the bedside lamp bathed the room in a soft glow. Y/N sat cross-legged on the bed, her laptop resting in front of her, illuminating her face in harsh contrast. Her throat felt tight as her eyes scanned the comments section on yet another gossip website.

"Why is he with her?"

"She's way out of his league."

"Drew could do so much better. She's not even that pretty."

"She doesn’t look right next to Drew AT ALL."

The words blurred as tears pooled in her eyes, one spilling over and sliding down her cheek. She sniffled, trying to hold it together, but it was a losing battle. Her hands trembled as she closed the laptop and set it aside, curling up into herself. The voices in her head, fueled by the hateful comments, were deafening.

She knew Drew loved her. He told her all the time, in the little ways and the big ones. But sometimes, the weight of the world's opinions was too much to bear. Tonight was one of those nights.

She was so caught up in her spiraling thoughts that she didn't hear the front door open or the sound of Drew's voice calling out.

"Babe? I'm home!" he said, his voice warm and familiar as it carried through the apartment.

Her stomach dropped. She quickly wiped at her cheeks, trying to compose herself. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her like this.

Drew stepped into the bedroom, his tall frame filling the doorway. He smiled softly, holding up a bag. "I brought takeout from your favorite place. I figured—" He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed her blotchy, tear-stained face and glossy eyes. His brow furrowed with concern as he dropped the bag on the dresser and closed the distance between them in two long strides.

"Angel, what's wrong?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and cupping her face in his hands. His thumbs gently wiped away the tears that continued to fall despite her efforts to stop them. "Talk to me, baby."

She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's nothing, Drew. I'm fine."

He frowned, not buying it for a second. "That's not nothing. Come on, tell me what's going on."

Her chest tightened as she met his worried gaze. She debated brushing it off, but the dam broke, and the words tumbled out before she could stop them. "It's just... all the comments, Drew. All the things people say about me. About us. They hate me because I'm not what they think you deserve."

Drew's eyes softened, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. She buried her face in his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt.

"They're so cruel," she continued, her voice muffled against him. "And the worst part is... I start to believe them. Maybe they're right. Maybe I'm not good enough for you."

Drew pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt her chin up so she was looking at him. His cobalt eyes were intense, his expression a mix of heartbreak and determination.

"Stop," he said firmly, his voice low and steady. "Don't you dare let those people make you feel like you're not good enough. They don't know you. They don't know us."

She shook her head, the tears still falling. "But Drew, look at me. I'm not some slim, perfect model. I don't fit the image of the kind of woman people expect you to be with."

Drew let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair before turning back to her. "Y/N, do you know what I see when I look at you?"

She stayed silent, unsure how to respond.

"I see the woman who makes me laugh harder than anyone else ever has," he said, his voice soft but unwavering. "I see the woman who listens to me when I'm struggling, who supports me no matter what. I see the woman whose smile lights up my entire day."

His hands moved to her shoulders, his thumbs brushing against her skin in soothing circles. "I don't care what anyone else thinks. I love you for you. For your kindness, your intelligence, your strength. For the way you hum when you're cooking, even though you always say you can't sing. For the way you light up when you talk about the things you're passionate about. You're the most beautiful person I've ever known, inside and out."

Her breath hitched as she listened to his words, the sincerity in his voice breaking through the walls she'd built around herself.

"You're more than enough for me, Y/N," Drew continued, his voice thick with emotion. "You're everything I've ever wanted. And if people can't see that, then screw them. They don't matter."

She let out a shaky laugh, her tears finally starting to slow. "You really mean that?"

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "With all my heart."

She looked up at him, her own heart swelling with love and gratitude. "I don't deserve you, you know that?"

He smirked, his hands sliding down to her waist. "I think it's the other way around."

The tension in the room shifted as his fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns on her sides. His gaze darkened slightly, a spark of something more than affection flickering in his eyes.

"I need you to understand how much you mean to me," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, husky tone. "Let me show you."

Her breath caught as he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a tender, lingering kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of love and devotion, of promises made and kept.

He deepened the kiss, his hands moving to cradle her face as if she were the most precious thing in the world. She melted into him, her own hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her palms.

When they finally pulled apart, both slightly breathless, Drew rested his forehead against hers.

"Do you believe me now?" he asked, a small smile playing on his lips. "Or maybe I really need to show you."

Drew's hand lingered on Y/N's cheek, his thumb gently brushing away the last of her tears. His eyes never left hers—dark, intense, full of something unspoken but heavy, like the weight of a confession he couldn't hold back any longer.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and rough, the kind of tone that made her stomach tighten and her breath hitch. She blinked up at him, her lips parting slightly as if to argue, but he didn't let her. Instead, he leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers, his breath warm against her skin. "Don't say it. Don't say you don't see it. I'll show you."

His fingers trailed down her neck, feather-light, sending shivers rippling through her body. He shifted closer, his other hand finding her waist, pulling her into him until there was no space left between them. Her heart pounded as his gaze dropped to her lips, then lower, tracing the curve of her jaw, the dip of her collarbone, the swell of her chest. Everywhere he looked, she felt it—like fire licking at her skin.

"Drew..." Her voice trembled, barely above a whisper, but he silenced her with a kiss. Soft at first, almost questioning, as if he was giving her the chance to pull away. But when she didn't, when she kissed him back, something in him snapped. His hands moved with purpose, one cupping the back of her neck while the other slid down to grip her hip, holding her firmly against him.

He deepened the kiss, slow and deliberate, his tongue sliding against hers in a way that made her knees weak. She could feel the heat building between them, the way his body pressed into hers, hard and impatient. When he finally pulled away, she was breathless, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to steady herself.

But Drew wasn't done.

His lips found her jaw next, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the sensitive column of her throat. She tilted her head back instinctively, giving him more access, a soft moan escaping her when his teeth grazed her skin.

"You taste so good," he groaned against her neck, his voice thick with desire. His hands moved to the hem of her shirt, fingers curling underneath the fabric as he paused, looking up at her with those piercing eyes. "Can I? Let me see you, baby. All of you."

She nodded, her cheeks heated up but her eyes locked on his, unwavering. In one swift motion, he tugged her shirt over her head, tossing it aside before his hands came to rest on her hips again. His gaze raked over her exposed skin, taking in every curve, every inch of her with a reverence that made her feel like she was something sacred.

"Fuck," he breathed, his voice trembling. "Look at you... You're perfect." His hands slid up her sides, his touch firm yet gentle, like he was memorising her. "Every part of you... I want to worship it."

Her breath caught as he sank to his knees in front of her, his hands gripping her thighs as he pressed a kiss to her stomach. It was tender, almost reverent, but the look he gave her when he glanced up was anything but innocent. Heat burned in his eyes, dark and hungry, and it sent a thrill shooting through her.

"Drew..." His name fell from her lips like a prayer, her hands clawing at the sides of his face for anything to grip onto as he began to trail kisses lower, his lips brushing against the band of her pants. He hooked his fingers in the waistband, tugging them down slowly, his lips following the path they took until she was standing there in nothing but her bra and underwear.

His hands slid around to her ass, squeezing gently as he nuzzled against her stomach, pressing another kiss there. "So fucking gorgeous," he muttered, his breath hot against her skin. "I don't know how anyone could ever talk shit about you. You're a goddamn masterpiece."

She whimpered, her chest tightening as he continued his descent, kissing and nipping at her thighs, her hips, anywhere he could reach. His hands slid up her legs, pushing them apart as he settled between them, his face level with the apex of her thighs.

"Drew, please..." Her voice broke, her body trembling with anticipation as he looked up at her, his eyes locking onto hers. There was something raw and primal in his expression, something that made her stomach flip and her core ache with need.

"Tell me what you want," he said, his voice rough, husky, sending a jolt of electricity through her. "I'll give you anything. Everything."

She swallowed hard, her chest heaving as she struggled to form words. "I... I want you. All of you."

A slow smirk spread across his face, wicked and knowing, as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh. "Then you've got me."

His mouth found her center, hot and insistent, and her knees nearly buckled as a loud moan tore from her throat. His tongue dragged along her slit, teasing, tasting, before delving deeper, burying itself in her folds with a groan that vibrated against her sensitive flesh.

"Oh my god..." Her head tipped back, her nails scraping against his scalp as he worked her over, his tongue flicking and circling her clit with expert precision. He alternated between long, languid strokes and quick, erratic flicks, driving her closer and closer to the edge with every movement.

"Drew, I—fuck, I'm—" Her words dissolved into incoherent gasps and whimpers as the pressure built, her hips rocking against his face as he devoured her. His hands gripped her thighs, keeping her steady as his tongue worked her relentlessly, each lick and suck bringing her closer to oblivion.

And then, just as she was about to tip over, he pulled away, leaving her teetering on the edge, desperate and aching. She cried out in frustration, her hands clutching at him as he stood, towering over her with a predatory grin.

"Not yet, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with arousal. He reached behind her, unhooking her bra and letting it fall to the floor. His hands immediately cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, eliciting a sharp gasp from her. "I'm not done worshiping you."

He bent his head, capturing one nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting gently as his free hand drifted lower, slipping beneath the waistband of her underwear. She moaned loudly, her hips jerking forward as his fingers teased her entrance, circling but not quite entering.

"Drew, please..." Her voice was pleading, broken, her body writhing under his touch. He chuckled darkly, releasing her breast to kiss her deeply, his tongue plunging into her mouth as his fingers finally pushed inside her, stretching her deliciously.

"You're so wet for me," he growled against her lips, his fingers pumping in and out of her at a torturously slow pace. "Is this what you want? Hmm?" He added a third finger, curling them just right, and her entire body went taut, a strangled cry escaping her.

"Yes! Oh god, yes..." Her hands clawed at his shoulders, her hips rolling against his hand as he fucked her with his fingers, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through her. His thumb found her clit, rubbing tight circles that had her vision blurring, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

"Come for me, baby," he commanded, his voice deep and gravelly, sending a shiver down her spine. "Let me feel you."

And just like that, she shattered, her orgasm crashing over her in waves so intense she thought she might drown. Her cries echoed through the room as he held her through it, his fingers continuing to move inside her, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until she was boneless, trembling in his arms.

When he finally pulled his fingers free, she sagged against him, her legs barely able to support her weight. He caught her easily, his strong arms wrapping around her as he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

"See?" he murmured, his voice soft now, filled with affection. "Perfect."

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was such a sweet request, and i really hope it was exactly what you wanted anon !! i’m so sorry this is so late, but i’m trying to work through all my requests and i’m almost half way there :)

as a curvy gal myself, this was just so cathartic to write and i really hope others feel the same when reading this !! you’re all so so so gorgeous in your own ways and ily all sm <333

[sturniolostars]

﹫𝓒𝓞𝓞𝓚𝓘𝓔𝓢﹫

Matt Sturniolo x You

In which: your boyfriend comes home to his favorite kind of cookies

TW: weed, kissing, hickeys, humping, praise

Matt walks through the door tired and wanting his girl. He walks into the kitchen seeing me place pretty pink frosted cookies on a dish. He smiles and walks up to hug me from behind. I giggle and turn to kiss him.

“I missed you” me mumbles onto my lips. I smile “me too. I made your favorite cookies!” I exclaim. He looks over at the cookies then back at me. “You made weed cookies?” I nod. All he can do is look in awe and kiss me again. What did he do to deserve me.

We’ve had too many cookies to count and I feel like I’m floating. I have Matt pinned between me and the counter, sucking and nipping at his neck leaving reds and purples behind.

His pupils are blown and I can’t tell if it’s more weed or lust, but he’s letting out such cute whines. “Such a pretty boy” I giggle earning another whine.

I put my thigh between his legs, pressing against his boner this time eliciting a moan from his lips. “Come on pretty boy use me” I whisper engulfing him in a kiss, tasting the sweet frosting that still lingers on his tongue.

His hips start to roll against my leg slowly, humping my leg. “Good boy” i say as I pull his shirt over his head to kiss down it. I feel him shiver. “Please–again” he begs. I smile. “What again? Good boy?” I teased earning an eager nod.

I lean in and bite his earlobe. “Good boy” he shivers his hips rocking a bit faster against my leg as he lets out little pants and whines.

In that moment I promise myself to make these everyday for the rest of my fucking life because I don’t think I can never not to this again.

Fuck I love him

Dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

@chrepsi how we feeling about the Matt version?

(Maybe another part two for this? Lmk)

[grapejuicebrat]

champagne coast - r.c.

where rafe has to watch you moving on.

warnings: mentions of smut, kissing, swearing, heavy angst, might be a happy ending, rafe tries to be better.

notes: SHES BAAAACK. and a little reminder: english is not my first language so be nice! x

my masterlist

———

“i want you to be happy rafe, that’s all i ever wanted”

but what if he can’t be happy without you? what if just your presence made rafe smile? if you want him to be happy, why did you leave? those questions were never asked but god, rafe still do want to know all the answers.

watching you moving on is hard. the first time rafe saw you after the break up, your eyes were red from crying. you never smiled. never wanted to pretend that you’re ok. you still loved rafe after all. even if he was a drug addict, even if he was a mean grumpy man. you really wanted to see rafe as an old rafe who tried to not hate on pogues. who tried to catch up with his sister and be a good older brother.

he really tried to be better. for you. for your future family.

he even wanted to marry you. of course, part of him understands that all those thoughts were in his head because he wanted you to stay with him. maybe he could get you pregnant with his baby. having a little copy of you with those big doe eyes was everything he ever wanted. but looking back, it wasn’t possible. not anymore.

sitting in a country club and watching you working hard was difficult. in the beginning of your relationship rafe made that clear. he never ever wanted you to work there again. not because he wanted you to be in a golden cage, just because men in this club were disgusting. rafe would never forget how you cried in his shirt about another nasty comment about her body. that’s why you decided to quit your job and instead of being a waitress you waited at home for rafe, making a dinner for you two and being like a housewife.

you changed rafe in a lot of ways. so now he doesn’t even want to punch this motherfucker jj in the face, because he is clearly flirting with you. after all, he promised you to fight with his anger.

the last thing rafe wants to do is disappoint you again.

“bro, there many other bitches, just forget about her” kelce said to rafe, laughing.

rafe’s eyes shifted to kelce, anger bubbling up in his blood. nobody gets to talk about you like that. even if you were the one to break up with him, you did it for best.

“if you try to say stupid shit like that again, i won’t even hesitate to punch you in a fucking face. you don’t know anything, motherfucker”.

it was the first time rafe didn’t let his friends say something disrespectful towards a girl.

you would be proud of him, that’s for sure.

after two shitty weeks of your break up, rafe saw you smiling for the first time. and he could swear, his heart melted. of course he wanted you to be happy to, even if it does mean that he won’t be included in your life anymore. as much as it hurts to say, maybe in some time you will start a family with a guy that really deserves you. and rafe always said to you that he didn’t deserve you. well, that’s true. he never deserved your kindness, your patience and mostly, your love.

after a long month, rafe could proudly say that he didn’t do coke for a month and two weeks. he didn’t drink either, except one bottle of a beer at the party. he wanted to start a new life, to try to be someone who would deserve you even if you doesn’t want him anymore.

and of course, you knew about this changes. you promised yourself to keep an eye on him if anything happens. and you were really happy to see him like this. without his stupid friends, that you never liked. without being high and drunk. at some time you would think that it’s your old rafe. who you used to know. and your heart would skip a heartbeat. after all, you still loved him. you will always love him.

sometimes you wanted to kiss him like you used to. to hug him, whisper an “i love you” and kiss like there was no tomorrow. you wanted to feel his hands on your neck, on your waist, everywhere. you missed this feeling of being loved by him, you missed his big eyes and his perfect smile. you missed those rare times you two made love to each other. of course you were obsessed with his dominant side in sex but oh god, when he would lay on you and hug you, and his dick was buried deep in your pussy and only god knows how many times he said that he loved you.

you would look at him in a country club, scared that some chick would hug him and sit in his lap. but not in a month, or two. not after a year after your break up, he still didn’t bring anybody. and if topper told you the truth, he refused to even look at some girl. except you.

there were still some rare moments when you would just sit in your kitchen and there will be only one question.

“what if we were still together”

you tried to imagine your life with rafe, how would everything be okay. and you cried. every time.

after another long night in an empty bad you’ve had enough. even if it is the biggest mistake you’ve ever made, you didn’t want this to be the end. not like that. when everything could possibly be better. when rafe at least tries to be better. because you still love him and some part of you hopes he still does love you. so you made your choice right away, getting your phone from the table.

notes: end sucks, i know. but i am still proud of this one. waiting for your comments!

[acowardinmordor]

I like this idea of Steve having the thing that Eddie so badly wants, and placing no value in it.

Eddie wants the diploma. He wants to actually prove them wrong and graduate. Otherwise he wouldn't go back twice to keep trying. Honestly, after his first senior year, he's been fighting uphill with his teachers. They expect him to fail, so they subconsciously lower his grades. They're scoring him harsher, even when Eddie puts in the effort. Add in that Eddie has some subjects he struggles with, and/or has a hell of a time with tests, knows that, so he's working his ass off.

I want him to have asked for extra work when he got bad test scores. I want him to have gone to teachers that hated him, and halfway to begged them for the chance to up his grade. They refuse everytime, tell him he should have studied more. He wants it so damn bad, and every denial stokes the anger at the system, and the kids with a silver spoon.

While Steve got handed it even though he did fail. Even better, Steve has changed since S1. Pre-demogorgon, he would have taken the diploma without a trace of guilt. But this is a guy who looked at his life, and started shucking off who he was, and finding who he wants to be.

He knew back in March that he wasn't going to pass the classes and graduate. Maybe Nancy had shown him how to work out the grades he needed to get to a B before they broke up, so Steve was able to do the math in February. He's got head trauma, and can't tell anyone exactly what went down. His parent know he got into a fight, but aren't home enough to have seen just how much it fucked up his head.

Reading is almost impossible for him. He gets memory gaps, struggles to find the word he needs. Even when he does know the answers on a test, he can't find the guys name, could list off all kinds of details and could sketch out the portrait the teacher showed, but the name is missing.

Steve, especially after getting closer to Dustin, wants to graduate for real. He wants to actually do it, prove he's not an idiot, and earn it.

He made his peace with needing to repeat the year, was already bracing for the fallout with his family, planning how to tell the kids without Max feeling guilty. Then his dad bribes the school. Steve gets told after.

And that pairing of emotions is interesting to me. Steve who didn't deserve to graduate, but did. Eddie, who deserved to graduate, but failed.

Mostly enjoy this because it makes for a very specific meet-ugly.

Something something, Richard Harrington bribes the school so Steve would graduate on time. Steve knows this, and hates this. The night of graduation, since he has no parties to go to, his parents are gone, and has no friends over 14, he goes up to the quarry ledge to have a drink, scream out some rage, and burn the stupid diploma that he didn't even really earn.

Eddie gets there as Steve is cursing bc the wind is too high, and the damn thing won't catch fire.