#he deserves to wear nice clothes and be pretty

[teal-bandit]

>_>

[luveline]

I love ur writing 💕 can I request something where reader is dense sortof/has low self esteem, so she likes hotch, admires him and would love to date him but can't imagine he would view her that way,, so he has to be really obvious with his advances? Not self indulgent at all 👉👈 no worries if not. Love u!

Hotch has to break the news that he’s been pursuing you. fem, 2k

Hotch would like to call you unassuming in the kindest way possible. Unassuming, in that not everyone who looks at you would find themselves immediately aware of your beauty (an old-fashioned way to put it, and true), because your poor self esteem leaves you shy. 

You don't believe anyone would want you. It doesn’t matter to Hotch beyond a weary heartbreak for you, as he doesn’t mind if it takes time to convince you. He only wishes you’d have more confidence. You’re pretty and you deserve to know it. 

“Hello,” he says, with intent to try again. 

You like him. He’s a grown man and a good judge of character, better of action, and he’d like to think that your sudden grimace whenever he speaks is again this cloud of insecurity rather than a true dislike for him. You have to warm up to him every day, but you do warm. 

“Hi, Hotch.” 

And listen, he’s not one to flirt at work, but if he ever wants a real shot with you, he has to be heavy-handed. “Hi,” he repeats, smiling, “how are things today?” 

You’re assistant office administrator for the BAU, and so Hotch isn’t technically your boss, but you do work beneath him. “Things are the same as always.” 

“Not too hard for you, then.” 

You catch his teasing, which is a new development. “Not too hard for me,” you say.

He doesn’t pretend he has reason to hang around. He thinks it might’ve contributed to you not believing he’s interested; he’d drop by with coffee because you seemed tired, or checked in on issues that didn’t need his supervision, and you’d taken every extra minute spent at your door as his attentiveness to his job, rather than an affection for you.

He stands with his hand on the doorway and just looks at you. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“You look beautiful today.” 

You touch the button at your neck. “It’s too much for work.” 

“No.” You’re wearing normal business casual clothing. You’ve pulled a necklace over your sweater, soft collar of a shirt kissing your throat. He imagines you’re wearing regular pants and flats or maybe a skirt and short heels beneath the desk, it doesn’t matter. “It’s not just what you’re wearing. You look pretty.” 

You could catch flame if something sparked near you. Lost, your lips part, and eventually you squeeze out a timid, “Thank you, Hotch.” 

 “Aaron.” 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Can we get coffee?” He dislikes the panic in your eyes and regrets how casual he sounded. “Can I get you a coffee?” 

“I’m okay.” 

“Well, maybe we can take lunch together?” 

“Have I done something?” 

“Have you?” he asks. 

He feels… young. Haley was the only woman he’d been with at a time, and casually there have been others now, but you’re the first woman he’s attempted to woo like this. He sometimes forgets that you’re shy and that he’s been married, distracted by his fizzing, almost joyful feelings for you. Flirting with you is a pleasure. 

You lick your lips quickly. “Where did you want to go? For lunch?” 

He was thinking you could bring your sandwich to his desk, but what you’re asking is a thousand times better. “Where do you want to go? Melanie’s?” he suggests. 

You breathe out in a strange laugh. “For lunch?” 

No, perhaps not. It’s rather fancy. “Somewhere nice, at least,” he says. 

“I don’t know where’s nice.” 

“Well, we can find somewhere. I’ll try to find somewhere before one, what do you think?” 

“Okay.” 

He smiles. “Okay.” 

He’s pulling away from the doorway when you stand up from your rolling chair and say his name, a near yelp, “Hotch! Wait, uh, wait a second.” 

He immediately turns back. “What?” he asks, giving you a quick once over. 

“Are you sure I’m not in trouble for something?” you ask. To your credit, you give a bashful little laugh. “I feel like I’m walking into a trap.” 

“I have no intentions of trapping you anywhere.” 

“Please don’t fire me at Melanie’s.” 

He smiles at you again and leaves your alcove of the office to head back to his own. Around the desks and the bullpen where his team sit doing their paperwork, up the stairs to the landing. He pauses before he goes inside.

JJ’s standing behind Derek’s desk. They’re chatting, JJ sipping at a mug, a small smile on her lips. Spencer watches her from his own desk. He doesn’t like her anymore to Hotch’s knowledge, but it doesn’t stop him from smiling at her with that slight thread of lovelorn shyness when she asks him what he’s so busy doing. 

Hotch has a moment of clarity at his desk when he realises he needs to find somewhere perfect to take you come lunch time. You hadn’t seemed convinced of your job security when he’d left you, and he spends some time pondering how best to accommodate you as he sorts thought Quantico’s best cafes and restaurants. 

He has emails to answer, phone calls to take, and to make. Time moves quickly, and by 1:02 he’s all sorts of late. It’s almost 1:12PM when he’s again at your office door, a warm plastic bag against his side. 

You’re looking at your lap. Coat in your hands, lip nibbled raw, there’s an internal conversation happening that he’s not privy to. He doubts he’d like it very much —the agony of self-doubt is written plainly in your slouch. 

He knocks your door, feeling very sorry for your startled jump. “Hi. Sorry, I’m late, I know. But I thought I’d bring dinner to you.” 

He thought of it like this: if he were to take you to dinner, you could explain it away as a professional superior who was going to fire you and changed his mind, or a superior checking in on his employee, or a superior simply being kind. He has, on occasion, taken different members of his team or office out to discuss things in their lunch hours because he was busy and needed their time at a convenient hour. You might not think anything of it. 

Right now, Hotch really wants you to think something of it. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Is that okay with you, if we stay here?” 

It’s a little much for you, apparently. You finally tip into incredulity. “Aaron, is everything alright? I really don’t understand what’s going on.” 

“I’d like to eat lunch together.”

“But why?” 

“Because you’re good company.” He’s sat knee to knee with serial killers, and his next sentence is still scary, “Because I like you, and I’m not sure how else to show it.” 

You press your coat to your stomach, frowning. “You like me.” 

“I was under the impression that you liked me too,” he says, smiling despite you and himself. Hotch might be a drill sergeant and a bully all those terrible moody stations as a boss, but he’s also just a man, and there’s little room for stoicism in love. 

“But you…” 

He waits, but then feels too sorry for you to let you flounder. “Honey, I don’t know how else to put it. I’ve tried compliments, I brought you that plant,” —he points to the still blooming orchid on your window— “I ask you what your plans are every weekend.” He looks swiftly behind him. Alone, he edges into your office to close the door and allow some privacy. “And every weekend I ask you if you want to get a drink. I’d think you didn’t like me if it weren’t for your tell.” 

“What’s my tell?” 

Your hand. Whenever he’s around, you take something into your hand and squeeze at it or feel it like you’re going to explode with nerves. He saves you the explanation, and instead lays his most gentle look on you. “If I’m wrong, please let me know. I’d never want to put you in an uncomfortable position, but you’re lovely.”

“You’re not making me uncomfortable,” you say, semi-disbelieving. “You never do. I'm just confused.” 

“I’d really like to get to know you as more than a colleague.”

“You know me,” you mumble. 

He does. He knows what your favourite colour is, your favourite food, your soccer team. He sent you flowers on your birthday, asks after your sick neighbour, and checks your office light every night when he goes home, though he knows what time you leave each evening. And he knows that you’re scared to admit to liking him or anyone, because you worry you’re not allowed. 

“I do,” he agrees, giving the plastic bag a jostle. He doesn’t need big answers now. “Can I sit down?” 

You might not have a big answer to give, but your expression tells a story nonetheless. You wheel your seat backward and he pulls a spare chair toward your desk, your smile like an adornment as you push aside your things to make room. You smile so hard it changes your entire face. 

“Do you have napkins?” you ask, not so subtly breathless as he places the bag down and pushes the plastic back. 

He pulls out a wedge of them. You pinch them, and for a second the both of you hold them, your eyes meeting, your cheeks appled with matching smiles. 

“I thought the orchid was for secretary’s day,” you say quietly, taking the napkins. 

“You aren’t a secretary,” he says, holding out a plastic fork. 

When you go to grab it, he moves it up out of the way. Your startled laugh is beautiful. Totally stunning. He hadn’t realised how badly he’d wanted the quiet intimacy of teasing you over lunch until he had it. 

You grab the fork before he can move it again. “Too slow,” you say. 

“Oh, you think so?” he asks. 

“I know so, Aaron. Who has the fork?” 

Aaron, he thinks. Finally, Aaron. “You have the fork, but I have your lunch. I’d tread carefully if I were you.” 

[sweet-as-an-angel]

♡ Bimbo Barracks Bunny ♡

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Rough Sex, Objectification, Dumbification, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Possessive! 141, Mean! 141, Manhandling, Slut-Shaming, Fem! Reader. ꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

Expect a lot of objectification.

Manhandling, too.

And wolf whistling.

It’s absolutely constant when you’re with the 141 – especially considering you’re their 24/7 fuck toy.

More days than not, you’ll be subject to a rough and thorough pounding from one or more of your boyfriends, hear them tell you to “Take it, you stupid whore,” as they slam into you from behind, holding you down over the edge of a counter.

Slut-shaming is to be expected, too.

You can’t wear a single outfit in peace — especially if it’s a skirt or dress.

Someone’s sticking their hand up there on their way past and making a grab for whatever their hands can find purchase on.

Dumbification Central.

“Too fuckin’ stupid for your own good – need a big, strong man to tell you what to do, don’t you."

They’ll buy you things to make up for their roughness with you if (when) they see you limping after an encounter with them. Ghost’s the main offender in this case; for what he can’t convey through words, he does through gifts. And what scandalous gifts they can be.

He especially likes dressing you up like his doll, buying you things he knows will fit you, things that will make it so much harder for him to resist the urge to ravage you whenever you bend over or come and sit on his lap.

They call you ‘Princess’ ‘Bunny’ 'Kitty' ‘Pretty girl’, or (Price’s favourite) ‘Daddy’s girl.’

They definitely smack your backside all the time, btw. The second they see the chance, they’ll pounce on it – on you – reeling back and slapping your ass.

The yelp you make when you feel the sharp sting is just too cute to pass up, as is the wounded, wide-eyed look you give them.

They also love showing their ownership over you: marking you up for the next man to see when he tears your dress off or pushes your skirt up, only to see that someone else has ruined you first (usually with their cum still oozing out of you, too).

Price is the most extreme — he has a crippling breeding kink and it shows.

More often than not, he’ll bend you over his desk and pull your hips as close to his as humanly possible, trying to get as deep inside you as he can.

“My girl, only good for takin’ my cock and havin’ my kids – gonna make me into a real daddy, hm?”

Entertain his kink for even a second and he’ll make sure you’re not going anywhere even after he’s done with you; he has to keep you plugged up and make sure his seed takes, after all.

Ghost loves to steal you away and throw you over his shoulder when he’s needy.

He’s like a caveman in the way he throws you onto the nearest surface without ceremony and tears your clothes off, spreading your legs and pressing his clothed bulge against your cunt.

He growls, too. Makes you squeal when he grips your panties by the bridge and tears them off, leaving you exposed and ready for him to use as much he likes.

He treats you as his personal cum bucket, emptying his load into you as many times as he pleases, using you.

“Good-for-nothing slut, just beggin’ to be chased down and fucked in that tight little outfit. Did’ya think I wouldn’t notice? Practically had your arse hangin’ outta your skirt, just waitin’ to have your guts rearranged by me.”

Soap’s a menace - a cruel one - and takes his time with you, edges you, makes sure that foreplay drags on for a good hour or two before actually stuffing his girth inside you (given he has the time).

He likes to make you nice and desperate – likes to have you begging for him and eating out of his hand before he’ll entertain the idea of letting you take him.

“Think ya deserve it, lass? Think ya deserve to have me fuck whatever thoughts you’ve got rollin’ round in that empty head a’ yer’s out?”

He’ll grin down at you as you pant and plead, shutting you up by making you suck his fingers.

“Well, if ye have any thoughts in there.”

Gaz is the gentlest of the 141, but any man is subject to a power shift. Especially against someone they perceive as less intelligent than them.

And you’re no exception.

Gaz is the most likely to experience post-nut clarity, realising (and feeling immediate shame for) the way he spoke to you, the way he called you his “Fucking slut with no other purpose except to get me off,” was potentially hurtful to you.

Literally will not forgive himself – he’ll apologise, buy you things, hang his head in shame until you manage to (eventually) convince him that it’s alright, that you don’t mind, and that you actually enjoy when he turns a bit feral.

As do they all.

They’ll pimp you out to König sometimes, too. But only if they can sit in and watch supervise.

There’s something just so disgustingly satisfying about watching you get your insides visibly rearranged by the 6’10 Austrian – especially when they can see the heavy bump of his cock in your stomach, making you cry out with every slam of his tip against your cervix.

“Scheiße– where’d you find this pretty little thing, Ghost? Didn’t think you were allowed prostitutes on base,”

He’s just as – if not more – mean than the 141. Especially if you cum before he does.

Doesn’t matter if you tell him you’re overstimulated, he’s still going to get his release, whether you like it or not.

“Shut it, Brat – you’ll take my cock for as long as I want you to. Keep whining and I’ll choke you with it.”

You’ll receive no help from the 141. Not when they’re on the precipice of an orgasm, at least.

Ghost will even goad König, telling him to show you who’s boss, to shove it in deeper – wanna see her cry.

You always end up covered in cum afterwards, panting while your cunt leaks with König’s semen, the clink of the man responsible’s belt in your periphery as he sorts himself out.

You’re always very well taken care of afterwards, though. Bath, bed, and plenty of rest, with as much food as you could want. And a cuddle session, of course.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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[undreaming-fanfiction]

I love a good florist Steve, but what I love even more is a good but naturally bitchy florist Steve.

He'd have his own flower shop and years of dating experience under his belt. He is not just a good boyfriend, he is THE good boyfriend. Going to his shop isn't just to buy a bouquet of flowers, oh no. It's a whole relationship coaching thing, he teaches husbands to do better, gives courage to teenagers asking their crushes out, gives advice regarding flower language to elderly ladies who just want to be slightly passive-aggressive...you know, the normal thing.

He has a catalogue with flower pictures to help people who have no idea what the flowers are called, they just know they were orange and didn't easily wilt.

He shows a local teenager the cheaper but still fancy options and throws in a bunch of free flowers that aren't really up to his standards. "Okay, you say she likes pink flowers. Does she like things to be a bit more decorated or does she prefer simplicity? You don't know? Okay, can you describe what she normally wears? No, I'm not being creepy, but you can sometimes tell the person's preferences from their clothes. Now answer or leave dateless."

He chats with the elderly ladies of Hawkins when they ask for a flower to gift to their fellow church ladies when they host their meetings. He cackles when he hears some of their orders. "Oh wow, Ethel, a yellow hyacinth? Would you like a gift card with that, something like sorry you're such a jealous hag? No? Of course I know the meaning, it's my job."

"Are you expeting her to say yes to the date with that atrocity on your face? Yes, I know it's a moustache. But it's also an atrocity. Shave it and thank me later. Now, would you like a ribbon for that bouquet?"

And most of all, he grills the unlucky conservative men in Hawkins who come to him for flowers for their wives without any idea what they like. "I see, so you want something pretty. What does your wife like? Flowers? Well, that's not specific. What kind of dresses does she wear? Expensive? Can you tell me anything about your wife's personality? ...nagging. No, I can't just mix something together, unlike you, I take pride in gift giving. Okay. I don't think this is a shop for you. Yes, that's what I'm saying, I won't play a part in your wife's disappointment. Oh sure, go take your money elsewhere, but I can give you this advice for free - you married a unique human being, so treat her like one. And if you really want a happy marriage - maybe come back when you learn something about her as a person. No need for that language, have a good day, sir."

For those that are more receptive, he goes through their partners' personalities and hobbies, suggesting date options and absolutely roasting the bad ones. "A football match. When your girlfriend hates sports. I don't care if it's your boys playing, you can try telling her that this is important to you and you'll take her out another time, but if you try to pass this as a date, you'll be single before you say "sorry". A date is for you as a pair, not for you only."

But the best thing his shop brings him is Eddie Munson, who sneaks in, absolutely ready to be roasted, and asks for a bouquet of bright colorful flowers for his best friend Chrissy. "She just got divorced from her asshole husband and I want to show her that she can have nice things. Platonically. But she deserves so much more. Uh...she really loves warm colors, so maybe yellows and oranges? What are they called...gerberas! She likes gerberas! And she likes things to be a bit messy and imperfect, so maybe some leaves there as well? A green ribbon would be nice."

And Steve just beams at him as he gets to work and says "Oh wow. Whoever your partner is, they are so lucky if you remember all of these things even for your friends. Makes a guy jealous."

Eddie just wiggles his eyebrows at Steve and mutters, "that position's sadly open. Has been for a while. Interested?" and he almost faints against the counter when Steve turns around.

Eddie is ready to run.

But Steve just fluffs his hair, reapplies his lipgloss and asks: "Where do I apply?"

[gremlingottoosilly]

imagining the wrath of monster!könig if a recruit ever tries to sabotage the hot tub for wifey or makes some dumb remark like: it’s a pot so we can cook her and eat her.

meanwhile wife pet reader has just climbed out of the hot tub, sleepy and all relaxed with no cares in the world.

You think you hear yelling and cracking sounds, but you're too warm and cozy in your bathrobe to care. It's not even your bathrobe to begin with, but you like being surrounded with Konig's smell and you enjoy wearing clothes that are much too big for you. It's weirdly comforting - and you can just close your eyes and doze off, a bit too fried after a nice hot tub session to care about the world around you. Konig is almost ready to crack the recruit's skull open when he hears you yawning. Your little actions always have this weird effect on him - he is ready to drop everything just to hear you yawn again and again and again, like a kitten. Like the adorable pet he has - which you are on par with being his precious wifey. He appreciates the fact that you're too sleepy to understand that the recruit tried to tamper with your weekly hot tub session - Konig hates seeing you cry and be upset from anything that doesn't involve his direct actions, and he hasn't been in sadistic mood lately. You deserve to have nice things, especially when you're so pleasantly warm and submissive after your bath.

You wrap your arms around his neck when he finally reacher for you and helps you out of the bathroom, allowing his pretty pet wifey to just nap in his arms. He won't be too rough with your body after you just took a bath - he knows you like the feeling of being oiled up on some fragrances and moisturized from countless expensive bath bombs he gave you, so he isn't even fucking you with his tentacles. Simply rocks his hips in a lulling manner, taking pride in fact he can be so gentle with his wife, she could fall asleep with his cock still buried deep in her pussy. You always sleep better when he fucks you, and he likes to fall on your body after a good fuck, allowing you to gently press your head in his chest and make sure there isn't a worry in the world. You don't even care that he smells like blood and guts of the recruit who tried to comment on you boiling yourself like a chicken in your hot tub - you just want cuddles and, maybe, get Konig in the bath with you next time.

[munsonsmixtapes]

wearing a matching set for eddie smut?

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) body insecurity, body worship, nipple play

There's not really a reason why you bought the lingerie set. It was pretty when you tried it on and it just so happened to that pretty red that Eddie loved to see you in. You wanted to surprise him with it, putting it on top of the t-shirts he stored in the bottom drawer of the dresser you shared.

You're washing dishes when Eddie comes home from work, trying your best to act normal as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head, murmuring a "hey, baby" as he passes by you to head to your shared room to change into some more comfy clothes.

You’re buzzing with excitement as you slowly follow him into the bedroom, leaning against the door frame as you watch him make the discovery, pulling the bright red, thin panties out of the drawer, whistling as he takes a look at them.

"Shit, baby, what are these?" He asks, as he turns towards you. "I'm assuming they're not for me, because," he holds them up to his body and they don't look quite right on him.

"They're for you," you tell him, your cheeks getting warm. "I mean, they're for me to wear for you." You enter the room and stand in front of him, reaching into the drawer to pull out the matching bra.

Eddie's never seen this side of you, but he has to admit that he finds it really hot. Sure, you've worn lingerie for him before, but you've never bought any to specifically wear for him. And that makes him feel special. It makes him feel…hot.

"And what did I do to deserve such special treatment?" He asks, fanning his face dramatically.

"Nothing," you shake your head. "It's for you being you." You press a kiss to his nose then take the underwear from him. "I'm gonna slip into these and you just sit there and look pretty, okay?"

You head into the bathroom and close the door, taking a deep breath as you gingerly take off your clothes, changing into the lingerie, suddenly not feeling as confident as you did in the store earlier.

The cups of the bra seem to be smaller than you remember, more transparent, your tits on full display through the sheer fabric. And the panties are more tight, hugging you in all the wrong places. The whole thing looks ill fitting and now you’re unsure of whether you should change or not.

You stare at your reflection as you fix one of the straps that’s fallen off your shoulder. You almost don’t want to go out there, the idea suddenly feeling stupid to you. But Eddie is waiting and you don’t want to disappoint him.

You slowly exit the bathroom, covering yourself up as much as you can with your hands and arms, but eventually give up, showing yourself to Eddie as he leans back where he’s sitting on the bed, another wolf whistles passing through his lips.

“Baby, you look fucking amazing.” He’s grinning ear to ear and you almost believe him. Almost. He’d never lie to you so you don’t know why you don’t believe him.

“Do I?” You ask genuinely and Eddie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. He doesn’t know why you’re asking. He always thinks you look amazing and is very quick to tell you so.

“Of course you do. Can’t stop looking at you. Hey, what’s wrong?” He notices your frown and rests his hands on his shoulder, his head moving in the direction of yours, trying to get you to look him in the eye.

“Nothing, Eds. Don’t worry about it.” You shake your head before turning it to the side so he can’t see how ashamed you feel.

“Do you not like it? Are you uncomfortable? You don’t have to do this for me. You can change back if that’s what you want. I love you no matter what you wear. You know that.” He wants to know what’s wrong so he can fix it. He hates when you feel anything but happy and wants to do whatever he can to make you feel better.

“Is it too small?”

“Small? No, baby, you look perfect.” His hand moved to one of the cups of your bra, his fingers brushing over the lace. “This, this is nice, but I think I like what’s underneath it even better.”

Eddie pushes the strap off of your shoulder then presses a featherlight kiss to it. He backs you up to the bed as his kisses get hotter and rougher, his lips sucking on your skin as your back collides with the bed.

“Once I’m done with you, you’ll know just how pretty I think you are. Especially when you see all of marks I’m about to leave on you when you look in the mirror.”

Your cheeks flush at his comment and he’s quick to get off of you, rushing to the other side of the room and grabbing something before hurrying back to you.

He straddles your waist and brings a camera up his face, making sure that you’re in the center of the frame.

“Need a photo of my pretty girl so pose for me.”

You do as he says, positioning yourself in a way that you think looks sexy, a pose that you’ve seen in the magazines he reads.

“That’s it,” he says then snaps a photo, the thing printing out of the camera. You take it and set it on the bedside table along with the camera before Eddie lies down on top of you once again.

He leans down and brings your nipple to his mouth, sucking on it through the fabric. You let out a whine and he takes that as an invitation to continue. His hands find yours and he pins them above you as he dives in for more, licking and sucking on the fabric as you moan underneath him, the sounds nothing but hot.

Eddie moves his hands underneath you and unhooks your bra, your tits coming into view and he feels his mouth watering as he stares down at your exposed chest and all of the things he wants to do to it. You’re right there on display for him like an all-you-can-eat buffet and fuck is he hungry.

He goes for your nipple, taking the whole thing into his mouth, flicking it back and forth as he sucks on it, wanting to get a full taste of it. He slides his hands underneath you, holding onto your bare back as he works, trying to giving himself more room, wanting to have his mouth on as much of you as he can.

You’re moaning and whining and he makes sure to press his rock hard cock against you so that you know just how hard you’re making him. That you know that he’s getting just as much enjoyment out of this as you are.

“Fuck,” you whine as he bites down on your nipple, arching into him as he bites down even harder, wanting you to moan as loud as possible so all of your neighbors know exactly how good he makes you feel.

You’re already reaching your orgasm and even though you’re embarrassed by it, Eddie is quick to let you know how good of a girl he thinks you are, how you’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to.

“Oh,” you moan loudly as you grab onto him, your nails digging into the back of his shirt. “Oh my god, Eddie.”

“That’s it,” he encourages as he helps you ride out your high. “That’s my girl. Sound so pretty when you moan my name.”

As you’re coming down, he moves lower, loving on every inch of skin he can get his mouth on, nipping and sucking on the parts of you he loves the most, stopping once he gets to your cunt. He spreads your legs wide and you look ready for him, already sopping wet through your panties.

Eddie gets undressed and puts on the first condom he can find before lowering himself onto you once again as he slides into you, pumping in and out slowly, knowing that this is exactly what you need. You want him to make love to you, not fuck you like he always does. You want him to show you just how much he loves you with his body.

“Wish you could see how pretty you are,” he says as he presses a kiss to your lips. “Because if you could see what I see, baby, fuck,” he sighs as he picks up the pace just slightly, his fingers interlocking with yours as his face is buried in your neck, pressing soft kisses to the skin.

“Can we do this more often?” You ask even though you’re kind of afraid to.

“What? Go slow?”

“Yes.” Your face flushes as you’re confession but Eddie just looks as you lovingly.

“Baby, you can have anything you want. All you gotta do is ask.”

“So we can do this all night as long as I ask?” Eddie pulls back to look at you as if you had just asked a silly question, and you suppose that you did.

“No question,” he shakes his head. “Now lie back darlin’, gonna show you just what I think of that pretty little thing you were wearing.”

And you do that the rest of the night and into the early morning, and afterwards, Eddie takes that Polaroid from the bedside table and puts it in his wallet so he can look at it anytime he wants. And after he does so, he pulls you into his arms and cuddles you until the two of you fall into a much needed sleep.

[postracehair]

chicane

max verstappen x reader | 1.6k

you tell max you love him for the first time. accidentally.

cw: r is drunk but happy, max is charming and tipsy, being silly and in love, love confessions

a/n: this came to me while i was taking a drunk shower.

--

You're drunk and tonight was perfect.

The late-night lights of the city rush by as you get closer and closer to your hotel, the cab driver content to turn the radio up a little more as you ramble in the back seat.

"It's just so nice that they all wanted to celebrate you," you say. "And for that one guy to buy us all drinks 'cause he's a fan! Oh, look, Max, that one is so pretty."

Max dutifully agrees and gently keeps you from pressing your nose to the glass with an arm around your shoulders. He's less drunk than you are, though he probably had just as many drinks. After his remarkable win today you're glad he let loose. He deserves it. You think he deserves everything, but a night out with the team and his friends and some free drinks is a good start.

And, god, he looks so good like this. Cheeks flushed, hair a little sweaty and tousled from his hands and yours, shirt open a button or two lower than his usual. You abandon the window and look at him instead, watching lights you were so focused on color his face and make his eyes shine.

You're so proud of him.

He laughs. "Thank you, liefje." Oh, did you say that out loud? The hand not twisted in the strap of your top squeezes your knee. He keeps his eyes on your face, mouth curled into a soft half-smile like he can't help but be fond of you.

The cab driver says you're just about there and Max pulls away from you to hand him some cash and a thought hits you full-force, louder in your head than the rush of his car across the finish line earlier today.

You love him.

Did you say that out loud, too? No, no. He gives no indication of having heard you so you don't think so. But the realization fills you with awe, with lightness, with joy. You laugh to yourself and Max shoots you an amused glance. You'll tell him, probably. At some point. But for now it's like the best kind of secret, new and exciting.

Max slides out of the cab first and holds a hand out for you. Beaming at him, you take it and don't let go as he tugs you up through the hotel doors and across the lobby to the elevators.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

It's like a song in your mind that syncs with the beat of your heart. You probably have for months, now. Maybe even as soon as you met him. How could you not? He's so good to you. Kind, patient, gentle. Funny, generous, intuitive. Quick to own up to his mistakes, willing to apologize when he's in the wrong. He's taught you so much about communication and healthy boundaries, about hard work and discipline.

Max says your name, pulling out of your lovesick musings. "Do I have something on my face?" he asks you, wearing his signature amused smirk and raised brow. You've been staring at him. The elevator arrives and you pull him into it, hitting your floor number and then the close button as quick as you can.

"No," you say, cheerily. "You're just handsome."

He rolls his eyes but welcomes you into his space, steadying you with a hand on your hips as you press your lips to his in the solitude of the elevator. It's a near miss -- you manage to catch the corner of his mouth, but Max redirects you easily for a proper kiss, slotting your lips together perhaps a little sloppily but it's exactly what you wanted.

A robotic voice announces your floor and Max pulls away first, pressing one more chaste kiss to your mouth before threading your fingers together and leading you down the hall to your room.

"Did you have fun tonight?" you ask him. He waves his room key in front of the pad and it lights up green.

"I did," he says, holding the door open for you to sneak under his arm. "Did you?"

You kick off your shoes and look around your shared room. Clothes draped on chairs, your suitcases lined up next to each other on the luggage racks. Max's laptop and meeting notes on the desk, the book you bought at the airport. It makes that feeling in your chest swell even more. You want to share space with him for the rest of your life.

"Yeah," you say. "I always have fun with you, Max."

He snorts at your enthusiasm but allows it, toeing off his sneakers and sitting heavily on the bed. You stand between his knees automatically and card both hands through his hair. He leans back on his palms and closes his eyes, chin tipped up. You could do this for hours, probably. It's always worth seeing him relax, let his walls down. Even when you're out with everyone on a night like tonight, blissfully loose and celebrating, you know he's not quite who he is when it's just the two of you. It's Max's nature to have these masks. They protect him.

But you protect him, too. You let him be himself.

"Are you hungry?" he finally asks, words slurring just the smallest bit. Probably from your fingers on his scalp more than the alcohol, really. "Want me to order some room service?"

It's the best idea you've ever heard and you tell him so. "Fries, maybe?" you suggest. "Oh, and a Diet Coke. For sure. And ice cream!"

"Okay, okay," he laughs, sitting up again and grabbing your wrists so he can kiss both of your palms. "Go shower and I'll call down."

"Shower!" you gasp, your drunkenness making your enthusiasm impossible to contain. "Such a good idea. You're so smart, Max."

He laughs, a bright, boyish sound. You would bottle it up if you could.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

This time it slips out.

"I love you," you say, beaming, without a second thought. "Wow, I can't wait to eat some fries."

You're so excited about this turn of events that you don't register his reaction, don't realize what you've confessed. You just head for the bathroom, grabbing your sleep clothes on the way and humming to yourself.

It's not until you're rinsing the fancy hotel body wash from your skin that you hear your own words in your ears.

You told Max you love him.

The water is warm but you shiver. "Oh god," you whisper to yourself.

Obviously you meant it. That's not the problem. It's just not really how you wanted to say it -- drunk after a night out celebrating his race win, thanking him for ordering you some 1am room service. Max deserves romance. You should have waited for a dinner date, or a night at his place this week, whispered it while you're both wrapped up in his sheets.

But now he knows. And does he feel the same?

You turn off the spray and wrap yourself in one of the huge, fluffy bath towels. He probably does, right? He certainly shows it. Even if he doesn't want to say it just yet you can feel it. In the way he looks at you, the way he looks after you. In his touches, the innocent ones and the not-so-innocent ones, in his gaze and the way he says your name like it's something precious.

He loves you. You're sure of it. You just feel a little silly about the whole thing.

You dry off and slip into your comfies. When you open the bathroom door you find Max tugging off his shirt, clearly planning to hop in the shower, too.

"Food should be here any minute," he says. "They had a few kinds of ice cream, so I got them all."

He turns to you and smiles so wide you feel your cheeks heat. He just looks so happy.

"I was going to tease you a bit," he says fondly, crossing the room to stand in front of you. "About what you said before you went into the shower. But right now you just look so --"

"What, Max?" you ask, pouting a little. He's teasing you plenty, in your opinion.

"Cute," he finishes. "Liefje, you look like a raccoon."

You must look confused because he scrunches his nose at you and cups your face, thumbs swiping at the skin under your eyes. He shows you them, black mascara flecks dotting the pads of them.

"Oh," you say. "Whoops."

"I love you," Max says. "I should have led with that."

Your hands rest on his bare chest of their own accord, feeling the solid warmth of him you know so well. His heart beats steadily under your palm. As sure as his feelings for you.

"Really?" you breathe. You can't help it. Even though you believe him, even though it's not really a surprise, a reflexive sense of doubt swells in your throat. Can life really be this good? Can you have someone who loves you, someone who takes care of you, someone as good and kind as Max?

His brows furrow for just a second before he clearly surmises that you're just drunk and starry-eyed.

"Really," he echoes. He kisses you just once, soft and sure. "I'm going to shower. Leave some fries for me?"

You nod dutifully. "Obviously," you say. "You get some of my fries because I love you."

There's that laugh again -- unguarded, transforming his whole face.

"I'm a lucky guy," he says.

[sttoru]

I was listening to 7 rings earlier and saw that post and my head immediately went to older bf suguru or satoru 😋

why not both hehe

tags; older bf!satoru/suguru x female reader (seperately). age gap (reader early 20’s, them early 30’s). suggestive. cult leader suguru yum. reader is depicted as innocent. nicknames ‘princess, sweetheart’.

GOJO SATORU

“satoru, are you. . sure? i mean it’s a lot of money and stuff,” you pout at your lover as he sits down on the comfortable chair in front of the fitting rooms. you’ve tried out a couple things by now—all which satoru has approved of. he recommends you to buy them all, but you’d feel guilty for agreeing. it’ll cost him a fortune.

satoru chuckles and leans back, manspreading with his hands limply resting on his thighs. he looks you up and down without an ounce of shame, “mhm. i’m completely serious when i’m telling ya to get ‘em all, princess.”

your shopping bags are piling up more and more. satoru bought you all the things you said you liked. or if he thinks a piece of clothing suits you nicely, he takes the initiative to buy it. the older man doesn’t look twice when handing the employee his black card.

“c’mere,” satoru gestures for you to come closer once the employee leaves to pack your purchases. he pulls you onto his lap the moment you’re close enough.

his hands run up and down your curves—feeling up the material of the dress you’re currently wearing. the sorcerer cannot wait until you’re home with him. he’ll have you give him a special fashion show with all the pretty lingerie he bought you.

satoru grins at the thought. your little squirms and whines of being ‘too sensitive’ makes him want to tease you even more. he doesn’t care if he’s in public or if anyone sees you; you’re all he focuses on.

“i jus’ wanna spoil my sweet girl—take care of her like she deserves,” the white-haired sorcerer whispers. a lingering kiss on your shoulder makes your breath hitch. he chuckles at your adorable reaction.

satoru holds you down on his thighs, hands firmly placed on your waist whilst he leaves kisses on your exposed skin. he’s got all the money and time in the world—all which he’s spending on his lovely girl.

“everything is yours. tell me what you want and i’ll buy it for you, baby. there’s no limit, ‘kay?”

GETO SUGURU

gentle fingers play with the strands of your hair. you lean into the touch, not really caring that people are staring right at you and your lover.

“your hair looks gorgeous like this, sweetheart,” suguru smiles sweetly. his legs are trapping you against him. your back and his chest touch—your head leaning on his shoulder. he’s completely got you under his spell with the way he’s holding you.

suguru had given you his card earlier and told you to spend it however you see fit. he would have gone shopping with you, though he unfortunately has to help a couple people who swear that they’re cursed.

he was still busy when you returned from your little trip. you didn’t want to bother him when he was working, but suguru excitedly invited you into the room once he spotted you. he wasted no time settling you on his lap and asking you all about your recent purchases.

“s-sir, could you please respond?” the shaky voice of a man snaps you out of your bubble. your gaze moves towards the poor citizen who’s groveling before suguru, the clear presence of a curse gnawing at his back.

suguru’s sweet attitude drops the moment that lowlife interrupted his time with you. his eyes darken and his grip on your hand tightens, showing just how much he’s holding back from murdering that man in cold blood.

he doesn’t want to scare you—no, he’d never kill someone in front of your eyes. he doesn’t want to taint your innocence like that.

“silence,” suguru’s sharp voice causes the man to shriek before he quiets down. a second passes before you feel your lover’s hand on your jaw, guiding your face back to his. the tender look in his eyes and the soft smile on his lips instantly returns.

suguru’s other hand slowly traces the diamond necklace around your neck, “where were we again. . . ah, yes—tell me what else you got, darling. i want to hear it all.”

[star-wrote]

Pretty Little Distraction

ao3 link

Characters: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader | Early Seasons

Summary: After boring yourself while researching lore, you decide Sam needs a well-deserved break.

Warnings: SMUT, reader wears a slip dress and thigh highs, cussing, oral (fem! receiving), dirty talk (but it’s nice bc Sammy), P in V, slight breeding k!nk, dean interrupts, allusions to aftercare, established relationship

A/N: okay so sam winchester LOVES thigh highs. if you have any sam winchester requests, ideas, or even thoughts feel free to send them in! i’m completely obsessed with him at the moment! <3

Word Count: 2079

18+

(lace divider from @strangergraphics )

Researching lore was fun at first; cracking open the books and the laptops, diving headfirst into the realm of mythology and folklore, and even the crappy vending machine snack breaks. However, after three hours of nonstop eyestrain, it became downright boring.

“Saaaam,” you whined as you shut your laptop harder than you should’ve, “I need to do something else, I’m going insane.”

Sam didn’t look up from his laptop, used to your usual begging for a break. He knows that you have a different stamina than he does when it comes to research. He’s been doing it his whole life, not to mention the hours of studying in college.

You let out an exaggerated sigh at his lack of attention, which earned you an annoyed glance from your boyfriend sitting across the rickety motel table. When his gaze returned to the apparently very important information on his laptop, you abruptly stood up, cracked your back, and flopped face down onto the bed you shared with Sam.

Remembering two hours ago, when Dean clocked out of research after only an hour, you thought about how unfair it was that he got to go out and have fun at the local bar while you and Sam were stuck doing more research in the motel room. You and Sam deserved to have fun too! Especially Sam, who has been more stressed on this case than usual due to the high amount of deaths. If you haven’t found a solution yet, you probably weren’t going to find one tonight.

You lifted your head from the cheap comforter as an idea popped into your head. Quickly, you grabbed your bag and headed for the bathroom without even a glance from Sam.

After five minutes of putting your outfit on, you looked in the mirror. Your body was hugged with a short, cream colored slip dress. A knitted pair of thigh highs with lace trim adorned your legs. It wasn’t over the top lingerie, but that’s exactly why Sam found it sexy.

A shiver ran through you as you recalled the last time you wore thigh highs in bed with Sam. You were about to take them off with the rest of your clothes, but he had caught your hand and begged you to keep them on. He spent an eternity between your thighs that night, the lace trim tickling his skin in the most perfect way.

You took a deep breath and exited the bathroom, leaving your insecurities behind you. Sam was right where you left him, sitting in the wooden chair that was way past its expiration date. Except this time, his eyes immediately find you standing in the doorway like it was some kind of picture frame.

His lips part as he trails his vision down your body, stopping on your thighs and the lace that appears at the top of your knee. You smile as you slowly walk over to him and stand between his legs that automatically widen for you.

“I must’ve fallen asleep,” he says as he leans into your palm that cups his cheek, “I’m dreaming.”

You giggle as you pinch his cheek and whisper, “Nope, wide awake.”

He smiles in response and runs his hands down your waist to your hips.

“Then maybe I died and went to heaven since I’m seeing an angel.”

Rolling your eyes, you pull him in for a kiss. He breathes out through his nose as he cups the back of your head. You pull back from his lips and kiss his nose.

“You needed a break, I had to pull you away.”

He looks back to his laptop for a second, hesitating only slightly before closing it.

“How could I resist such a pretty little distraction?”

You gasp in fake shock. “You really think I’m pretty?”

His lips quirk up. “The prettiest… now come here.”

He pulls you closer by your waist, and lifts you like a feather for you to straddle his lap. His lips are back on yours in an instant, but not for long as he trails his kisses down to your jaw and to your neck, brushing back your hair for easier access. He gently sucks on your pulse point. Not enough to leave a mark, (though he desperately wants to) but enough to make you let out a small moan at the feeling.

Sam chuckles into your neck at your reaction and starts to rock your hips into the bulge slowly growing in his jeans. You bite into his shoulder and pull on the waves of his hair near his neck. He comes up from your neck and lets out a low groan as he rocks you harder against him.

Suddenly, you hear the chair below you start to squeak in rhythm with your grinding. Before you stop, Sam whispers in your ear, “Ignore it.”

You keep moving your hips, but the squeaking grows louder and the chair starts to sway with each thrust.

“Sam,” you giggle out, “I think we’re going to break this goddamn chair.”

Sam stops moving your hips and lets out another groan, this time an annoyed one. He chuckles as he rests his forehead against your shoulder.

“Fine,” he says as he stands up from the chair with you clutching onto him. “To the bed then.”

He walks the two steps it takes for his long legs to reach the foot of the bed, kisses the top of your head, and then tosses you onto the mattress.

You land with a loud laugh but quickly direct your attention back to Sam, who was taking his shirt off at the end of the bed. He smirks as he sees you bite your lower lip at the sight of his bare upper body. His eyes run down your body, stopping on your thigh highs once again while he unbuckles his belt.

You bend your knees and allow your legs to fall apart, revealing a sight of no panties under your slip dress to Sam. His breathing grows heavier as he zeros in on the new surprise that you just exposed to him.

Once his pants and boxers have joined his shirt on the floor, he kisses your ankle. Then your shin. The little scar on your knee. Multiple kisses up your inner thigh.

He fully lays down on the bed and peels your slip dress up your hips, leaving the small amount of fabric bunched around your waist. He lifts your covered thighs over his broad shoulders; a position all too familiar.

He blows out a cold current of air onto your glistening pussy and you welcome a shudder of anticipation to flow through your body. Hazel eyes that looked more brown in this moment than gold, green, or blue met your own eyes. Those same puppy dog eyes watch you as he licks a stripe up your slit. His eyes close as he tastes you for the first time tonight. It had been too long.

Sam immediately gets to work on eating you out. His hands fiddle with the lace trim of your thigh highs while his tongue laps up the wetness that you produce for him. His eyes stay closed, brows furrowed, and his hips start gently thrusting into the mattress below him, causing you to moan out at the scene unfolding in front of you. All because of you.

Because of you, Sam is almost drowning in between your legs. And because of him, you’re gushing.

Your climax arrives too quickly. It always does with Sam. The feeling of pure sin washes over you as you gasp out Sam’s name with a collection of “thank you’s.” He only stops after your legs relax around his head. He leaves a kiss on your puffy clit and quickly moves up your body to kiss your lips.

“I need to feel you, angel,” Sam breathes out between rushed kisses.

You nod as you whisper out, “Please?”

He smiles against your lips. “So polite.”

You can feel him reach a hand down to his cock, stroking it once before pressing into you.

Sam was always gentle during this moment. He has to know that he’s big. He slowly gives you inch by inch, instructing you to breathe when he gets down to the last few. He lets out a groan as he buries himself fully to the hilt.

He pauses to let you get used to him as he kisses all around your face, ever the sweetheart.

“Don’t think I tell you enough how much I like these.” Sam snaps the lace of the thigh highs against your skin, leaving a pleasant burn.

“I kinda figured it out last time.” You clench around his length at the thought. “You were so hot, Sam. You always are.”

He laughs breathlessly. “You’re getting riled up, baby.”

He slowly pulls his length out, and even more slowly pushes it back in.

“Sam…fuck.” You let out the loudest moan of the night.

“There she is.” He grunts as his thrusts get more forceful.

You wrap your arms around his neck and moan into his ear, begging him to give you more. And of course he does, because it’s Sam. He gives you anything you ask for.

“Fuck, angel. I’m so deep.” Sam brings his hand down to press on your lower stomach, making you moan. “You feel that, baby?”

You could almost cry at the feeling of him so deep inside of you. You wish he would stay inside of you forever. You wish that you could become one.

The hand that was pressing on your belly goes lower and starts circling your sensitive clit. Your hands grab handfuls of the bedsheets under you as Sam gives you more and more pleasure with every passing second.

Sam’s other hand pulls down the loose strap of your slip dress and kisses the newly exposed skin of your collarbone area. He pulls the dress down even further to free your nipple, which he swiftly licked and then took into his mouth.

You brought a hand to his head and pulled back on his hair, directing his mouth to yours for a sloppy kiss. The pace of his thrusts quickened, causing the bed to squeak on its four wooden legs and hit the wall every so often. The sound didn’t even register to either of you who were so lost in each other.

“M’ close, baby,” Sam grunts out, his accent growing thicker. “M’ gonna cum deep inside of you, honey.”

You moaned at his words. “Please, Sammy. Need you to fill me up.”

Those words caused Sam to bury himself deep inside of you, let out the lowest groans, and release in your tight walls.

The feeling of his hot cum shooting into you triggered your second and final orgasm of the night. This time, you press your lips to Sam’s again; more panting into each other’s mouths than a kiss.

Sam falls into your arms, and you welcome the weight of the giant man on top of you. You comb your fingers through his hair as his thumb traces circles into your hips. You both soak in the feeling of complete love for each other.

Suddenly, the door opens as a drunk Dean walks in with his hand over his eyes. “Jeez you guys, I’ve been waiting for ten minutes. Could hear you from down the hall.”

You burst out laughing as Sam yells at Dean to get out.

Dean turns around and pulls the door shut as he yells over his shoulder, “Get dressed so I can sleep, you freaks!”

You giggle at the bitch face that Sam couldn’t hide. Your thumbs automatically gravitate to his face to smooth out the grumpy lines between his eyebrows.

“Every time!” You say, referring to Dean interrupting your post-sex cuddles.

Sam smiles. “Maybe we should put a sock on the door next time.”

You giggle and give an alternative solution, “Or, a sign that says if the bed’s rockin’ don’t come knockin’ jerk.”

Sam smiles and gets up from you, putting his hand out for you to grab. “Come on, let’s get dressed.”

“Sam, I don’t think I can walk.” You take his hand anyway, just to hold it.

He wastes no time in picking you up bridal style and carrying you to the bathroom where your bag still sat. “I’ll take care of you.”

You were sure he could see the cartoon heart eyes that you made for him.

“You always do.”

[sleepy-grav3]

The Moon Child Part 2

Part 1

A/n: Wow. I posted the first part to this and you guys like- rushed to it like starving animals holy SHIT... Should I be scared???? anyway- here ya go

Summary: Danny meets the Aqua Family and gets the love he deserves, plus a little comfort.

Tw: hurt/comfort, bad parents, mentioned discrimination, angst, ghost animal cruelty, swears, objectification, fluff

I forgot to mention Danny goes by he/they pronouns, Atlanteans know a lot of animals, and gender is weird sometimes so they aren't assuming anything and that's fair since Danny could shapeshift if he wants

The Moon Child Part 2 - The Moon Loves the Sea

Warm. He felt warm while in his core. And he could feel the soft cushion he was placed on. He heard the stories that Aquaman Arthur would tell him about all of his adventures and the rambles about his family. He was even told the secret about his stepbrother, Orm, who's death was faked and now lived on land.

It was... nice. Safe. He hadn't felt so loved in a long time. Or, at least, he thinks he hasn't. He had lost track of time while in the labs. It was painful to think about. Visibly so. Apparently, when he drifted into those dreadful terrors, his core's soft light would flicker into a dimmer one which resonated with his sobs. Arthur or his wife, who would keep him beside them at all times, would pick him up each time and hold him close to their heart.

"It's alright" They would say. "You're safe now."

Their heartbeat would always calm him down. It pulsed out reassuring feelings with each beat of their hearts. It was soothing and he never felt so safe. Not even when he was alive. To think he needed to die to feel this way.

It took a while for the pain to finally go away, but he soon felt ready to come out of his core. He couldn't recuperate as much as he wanted to. Not to use his full abilities of his ghost powers. No, there wasn't a massive supply of ambient ectoplasm like in Amity. He learned that what he was absorbing the most was the magic, which acted as a saline solution to blood (which he was pretty sure his blood was fully ectoplasm now).

It was interesting how magic tied in with ectoplasm. He wondered if that's why summoning worked best for those in the realms for that reason. Maybe the specific rituals to summon them even tied closely with their ecto-signatures? It's an interesting thought really.

That isn't the point though. What is, is that he was healthy enough to come out of his core.

"Ok, Danny. Deep breath. Here we go-"

-

Arthur was doing his usual thing: struggling to wake up in the morning and only really doing it because he didn't want to worry the literal spirit of a god. And it's not even because they're a god, but because they're a child. Should he have kept them in the same room. He feels like that might've been a better choice than just leaving them in a room next to his.

Arthur shook his head, rubbing his eyes as he swung his legs over the edge only to jump at the cold feeling of the floor.

"All kinds of water magic and they still can't stop the floor from being cold."

He huffed, getting up and picking out some casual wear that didn't have a bunch of jewelry with protection runes. Some normal clothes to hang out with family.

Kaldur came back yesterday, so they're having breakfast together. He hoped that he'd believe the whole moon deity thing. Kaldur was pretty good and believing new things, but this was their main religion they're talking about. Religion is iffy, or at least it was for those on land. The ocean folk are... extremely loyal.

Should he worry about them trying to destroy the new moon...?

He shook his head. No, they probably couldn't get past the layers of the atmosphere. Hopefully.

He walked out of the door, now thinking about how sea creatures would even pull that off before knocking on the door of the room next to his.

"It is uh, me. Again." It never sounds less awkward. Maybe I should try adding the dramatics?

And with a twist and push, he opened the door only to freeze with widening eyes. The stone wasn't there.

"Oh my god- I lost-"

Only to hear a chirp. he flinched, attention darting over to the full body mirror on the other side of the door that pushed into the room. A door he was going to have fixed to avoid heart attacks like these.

He let out a huge sigh of relief, walking over and bending down with a crooked grin.

"Well, good morning. I didn't expect you to appear for a while. But hey! Perfect timing! Kaldur's going to be joining us during breakfast today, so we could introduce you guys! We could meet Orm soon too! I bet he'll be absolutely surprised!"

The child only looked at him with their big wide doe eyes. Hope sparked in them, but anxiety kept their body tense.

"You... You were serious about it? About me meeting your family?"

Arthur placed a hand on their shoulder, he could barely notice the cool temperature of their body before he saw them jump. He was going to pull away his hand, but then the child relaxed a bit more. It was as if they hadn't had affectionate physical contact in a long time.

"Have they ever been anything but a moon? Are all moons like this? What about other planets? Earth... we have so much pollution. If it were alive..., would it only just barely be clinging?"

"Yes, I was and still am. You're a part of it now for as long as we live. And even when we pass, you will continue to have a place in the ocean. You might not have realized this, but the ocean worships you like a god. In fact, I think I'm going to have to talk with the Justice League about offering an apology gift of some sort."

The child blinked, eyes wide and glistening as a layer of moisture sparkled more yet made the eye look foggy. Looking closer, Arthur could see how moonstones came to be when they cried. It would hurt if it was a literal stone the kid cried. Like- like kidney stones! He was thankful that it wasn't like that.

"You... You aren't scared of me being dangerous to them? You don't think I'm evil or non-sentient?"

Arthur blinked. What?

"No... Nobody- Why would anybody think that?"

The child pursed his lips into a thin line, averting his eyes. With each blink, a silvery white liquid would start to drip and condense to the moonstones he found.

"I... don't know how things work around here... But on land... I've... They don't respect the dead or those associated to the concept. I've tried to keep both sides from trying to destroy the other- but... but..."

Arthur took a breath, pulling the spirit into his arms into a tight embrace. They clung to their veil that was wrapped around their arms like a shawl.

It seems that he had some lore to read up upon and some things to investigate.

-

(This bit's about Danny's POV. It'll be continuing with his while he meets everyone)

Danny didn't know what to think when he looked at himself in the mirror earlier. He didn't have a shirt, but the scarf thing was comfy. He could make it into some kind of make-shift shirt if he wanted to too. His memory on how to do it was... foggy and fractured. Some parts of speech were muffled and what he saw from that time would blur or seemed made up.

He knew the person teaching him.

Why can't he remember them clearly? He could hear whispers of something in his head telling him who that was.

And when he pushed that thought aside, he'd look back at other memories and realize who that was.

Tucker. How could he ever forget about Tucker? Why was he forgetting him?

What made it worse was how much he had to stare at the damn mirror to get the knots right. His chest... it wasn't ever that clean. No Lichtenberg scars. No burns, no cuts, no incision scars. Nothing. It was clean of any of his failures. His struggles. His learning experiences.

And yet... he still imagined them being there. Each time his fingers would brush up against places where he knew scars should've been, a shot of pain would spike as if he'd been electrocuted.

It hurt.

He hated how he remembered.

He hated that he didn't.

He used to remember all of it. He did when he was sobbing for days on end.

Now, it was foggy. Now, it was hidden away. He couldn't reach it.

"Oh my god- I lost-"

He chirped in surprise, turning with widened eyes. Oh. It's just Arthur. I really need to get out of my head.

Arthur walked over, looking slightly drained, as if he was relieved of a sudden weight placed on his shoulders. And by the vibes, Danny's guess seemed right.

Relieved Happy Happy Excited Nervous Happy

He was always so cheery in the... well, what seemed to be the day. Sucks to be out now that he thought about it. It would be rude to just fall asleep at random now that they could physically see if he's awake or not.

Arthur greeted him warmly, cheerily saying how he didn't expect him to come out of his core as if the event was a surprise gift. That... was confusing to say the least. It's easier to have a pet rock than a guest. Now he has to feed him to be polite, or at least offer. He has the room covered since the beginning. It was a really big room. A waste for something someone like him.

He felt his body freeze and start muffling sounds when Arthur started mentioning Kaldur and Orm. His family. Close ones, from the stories he would tell.

M4Dd13 and J4Ck would never allow strangers near him, much less Jazz.

"You... You aren't scared of me being dangerous to them?" He couldn't stop the questions from slipping out even when his expression shifted. "You don't think I'm evil or non-sentient?"

He doesn't even know how he could even think of himself as otherwise. He could remember the custom-made, high voltage tasers that targets his ecto-signature itself until he acted how they expected him to. How they wanted him to.

His eyesight became extremely cloudy. It was similar to the green he'd see before he would start crying after he couldn't cry water anymore.

Ghosts... Ghosts cry ectoplasm. What... What was he crying? What is he now? He was- Why wasn't he gone? He was Ended, wasn't he? They got rid of his heart and crushed his core to determine the durability- there wasn't a way to come back from that.

So why was he alive?

Why can't he-

"-think that?"

Shit- he wasn't paying attention.

Danny couldn't bare to look at the man, guilt eating away at him.

"I... don't know how things work around here..."

He could barely register that it was his voice.

"But on land... I've..."

Why was he still touching his shoulder?

Why isn't he disgusted?

Why isn't he scared?

Why isn't he angry?

"They don't respect the dead or those associated to the concept. I've tried to keep both sides from trying to destroy the other- but... but..."

But they destroyed me instead.

It was all for nothing.

Why didn't he listen to the Ancients?

Why did he just kill people?

They already expected him to do so anyway.

So why didn't he?

He couldn't feel the hug he was pulled into until he stopped crying.

What was he even crying about?

-

Ok so- Maybe Danny should start scheduling his breakdowns. So far, he's had ones at random or ones that goes on for multiple days without any stopping. Or- if he did stop, he really doesn't remember them.

But this is getting embarrassing. He was lucky Kaldur came home late or else they might've either came late or completely missed the breakfast reunion.

Ugh- and don't get him started with anxiety.

His eyes must be puffy or something. Great first impression, Danny! All ya gotta do now is cry again in front of everyone to make it one of the worst introductions in life.

Well, it wasn't really a good start even without him. Arthur had just dropped him onto a very cushiony chair and exclaimed: "Thank the seas! I'm starving!" And just went to devour a whole plate before calming down a bit with Mera scolding him.

He was just awkwardly watching until a plate was placed in front of him. He slightly tensed, attention going from his plate to the hand pulling away from the plate now that it was down. That's when his eyes made contact with Kaldur's. He seemed a bit startled to, as he blinked owlishly before smiling politely.

"Hello, I'm Kaldur'Ahm. You may call me Kaldur."

"U-um.. I'm..." What should he be called now? Phantom didn't feel as right anymore. Ah, what the heck. It's not like they know little ol' Danny Fenton. "I'm Danny." For some reason, that name didn't feel too right either.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard that you've been in a stone, so I was surprised to see you carried in by fa- Arthur."

Curious Happy Happy Nervous

Danny relaxed a bit, turning to his plate once eye contact became too difficult. He picked at his food

"I didn't have much strength when I first formed. I wasn't meant to even have a body but I... didn't want to be discovered and have my core cut up and carved into for some jewelry or something, so I forced myself. you could say it's like... an energy conservation form."

Danny started to actually eat his food, though a bit quicker than he usually would. Stress eating, how lovely.

"Is it a lot of work to stay as you are now? You don't have to stay like this if you're too drained." Kaldur started to fret for him, looking for any sign of strain.

Danny, feeling the worry from him, smiled. It's been a while since someone was worried for him.

"I recovered enough energy that I have a bit extra. I can't do a lot of the things I could before, but I don't feel any pain anymore. So, I'll be fine."

Kaldur relaxed a bit, though still held a slight frown.

"Tell me if you ever feel anything. I'm more than able to hold onto your core and protect you."

Danny hummed, continuing to eat. That's about the time Kaldur remembered that it was breakfast time and started- no, continued to eat from his plate. He must've served himself when Arthur started to or even before that.

"Hey hey hey! Now that the kid's awake, why don't we take a family trip toooooooooo" He dragged out the word as Mera glared at him. "-my brother's grave! I bet he'd love to meet you! And on the way, we can go to the burger place and shop for some clothes, meet my dad-"

Danny looked over at Kaldur, who shook his head fondly at his obvious father-figure. Really, that slip up wasn't getting past him, no way, not possible.

"Don't mind him." Mera sighed. "He's an idiot."

"Hey!"

"Danny, you could always say no. We could go a different day." Kaldur mentioned.

"Danny?" Arthur questioned. Mera rolled her eyes.

"Pay attention, will you?"

"No, it's fine." Danny shook his head with a nervous smile. "I'd like to see him too."

"GREAT!" Arthur exclaimed, making Danny jump and Kaldur wince at the volume. "Hurry and finish your meals! I'll call over the pups!" and then he ran off.

"Pups?" Danny asked.

"Sharks." Mera clarified with a fond sigh. "Ever since he heard someone call them sea puppies, he's been calling them pups and puppies ever since."

"That's... really cute actually." Danny snickered.

"He sneaks away to play with them all the time." Kaldur groaned, remembering the number of meetings he had to take over for the man.

Danny reached over and patted Kaldur's forearm.

"You poor child."

"At least you understand."

-

Kaldur... well, Danny didn't really know how to put it. He was really nice and all, but he was a bit...

"These earrings would look great on you." Kaldur hummed as he held up dangling pearls to his ears.

Kaldur's already bought 3 bags of stuff for him in the last 20 minutes since coming to Reef Town (completely made-up place, just go with it). He even had to adjust his ghost clothes so he could wear the pants and shirt, and other stuff that were bought for him. He still kept the veil since it was really soft and soothed him when he rubbed it between his fingers.

"Ah, but this goes with your clothing... Perhaps we should order one to be made in Atlantis?" Kaldur trailed off, mumbling about different shops and what materials they had along with design names Danny had no clue about. He was almost sure that some of those words were made-up with how they sounded.

"Oookaaayyy- how about we think this over later?" Arthur insisted, a hand on Kaldur's shoulder and the other taking away the earrings in his hands. "We have someone to meet in... about 5 minutes."

"Right, sorry! I got distracted-"

"You're fine, you little urchin." Arthur chuckled, pushing Kaldur towards the door. "Now let's go meet Orm!"

Danny felt a hand on his head. It was a gentle, motherly touch. It nearly made his core let out a purr. Only Jazz could do that with touch alone. Though he nearly started to do the same when they'd mark where they'd cut next. They didn't do that as often with how much they liked to see his organs and bones regenerate.

"Tell Kaldur if it's too much. He's just really excited to have you around and is used to having to give something to keep sea creature friends around."

Ah, he knew that voice.

"Ex..cited? Why?" Danny looked up at Mera, leaning into her touch.

Mera smiled down sweetly at him; her eyes were filled with love that would be pointed to her own child.

She didn't have that drunken lust M4Dd13 had in her eyes each time she came back.

It made his core flutter.

"He sees you as a younger sibling. He's wanted one for a little while now. I... I can't get myself to try again, so he didn't expect to have a sibling. He was really excited to meet you after he heard that you agreed to stay with Arthur. You didn't reject my touch either. I hope it was fine that I held your... core, was it?"

Danny felt her finger card through his hair. He melted at the soothing touch.

"Yeah. It's... it's everything to a ghost. Heart and soul. And... I heard about you from Arthur while I was in my core. And you were the reason Arthur knew to comfort me. So, I knew I could trust you."

Mera smiled a bit more brightly and knelt down, hands holding his face with all the love in the world before she placed a kiss on his forehead.

"I'm glad. Now, let's go catch up with the boys. I'm sure Kaldur and Arthur must be panicking."

Danny could barely follow after her, having to make himself float as she grabbed his hand to lead him outside. Everything was too fuzzy and happy; it was hard to focus.

-

"Did you kidnap a child spirit?!"

That was the first thing Orm said when he saw Danny, immediately looking at Arthur incredulously as he slammed the table with his hands.

He immediately walked over and knelt down in front of Danny.

"I am so sorry about him-"

"Hey! I didn't-"

"-he's an idiot and really doesn't know any better."

"I didn't kidnap him!"

Orm arched a brow at his brother before looking over at Mera.

"No contracts were made."

Orm looked back at Danny.

"You went with him willingly?"

Danny snickered. "He looked like an idiot."

"You too?!"

"You really can't blame him." Kaldur agreed, smiling over at Danny.

Danny giggled and looked back at Orm.

"I'm Danny."

"Orm, that idiot's older brother. Stepbrother. Now, why did a saintly spirit decide to tag along with this family?"

Mera walked over, placing a hand on Danny's head again. He leaned into it, barely able to keep in a purr.

"You remember the incident with the moon?" Orm nodded. "Well, they're the spirit of the moon."

Orm's eyes widened, head snapping right back to Danny.

"You- you're-"

Danny blinked. He's a what? Wait, not the time to dissociate-

"Is... Is that bad?" Danny hesitantly asked.

"No! Not at all- I just- I've always believed in you, it's just that- Seeing an idol is a bit of an experience-"

"An idol?" Danny questioned, looking up at Orm. He was still kneeling, doesn't that hurt?

"Well, I've heard stories about how you'd battle against the sun gods and sent blessed rain to heal those under incurable plagues. That you split your own soul to assist physically on this world to help those that roamed on it! I've traveled to different places on the land just to see your descendants. And what beautiful white features they have. Did you know that humans call them albinos?"

"Really?"

"Yes! They deserve a better name that fits the position of blessed descendants! The fools!"

"I-it's fine, really! I'm glad they're doing ok and- and that my blessing still lives on."

Orm sighed and stood up.

"You're much too kind. Even after they replaced you, you don't hold it against anyone."

Oddly enough, he felt his chest tighten. It was as if...

"Someone has to do my job in controlling the currents, right?" Danny smiled sadly.

The others seemed to feel sympathy for the spirit, Kaldur going over and pulling him into a hug.

"It's alright. The ocean will stand by your side. Forever. They still worship you even now. So don't think you were only a tool, ok?"

Danny nodded. "Ok.."

He fought back against the tears.

-----

A/n: well, that was a bit longer than the last one. I was planning to write more for this chapter, but I'll just add it to the next one. Sorry if it seems a bit stiff, it'll be better eventually... hopefully.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed.

[gingersxng]

Keep Quiet

Pairing: f!reader x Yunho

Notes: sub!reader, dom!yunho, nipple play, light pain, teasing, fingering, kissing, finger sucking, cum eating, pet name (doll), dirty talk, overstimulation, unprotected sex (don’t), Yunho has a big dick. maybe forgot something!

Words: 668

okay listen,

you’re in Yunhos room putting some clothes on after the refreshing shower you just took. you’re sitting on the floor in just your panties and searching through your jewellery box for something nice to wear.

you suddenly feel a pair of cold hands groping your breasts making you jump. you look up and meet the brown glittering eyes of your boyfriend, he gives you a smile.

you’re about to say something but instead of words a small moan leaves your lips. Yunho’s rolling your nipples in between his fingers slow and sensual, your back arches. he’s movements gets faster and more painful which makes it harder for you to keep quiet. giving you kisses along your neck Yunho stops at your ear and shushes you since the other members are home too.

when he’s been torturing you for a while stimulating your now red and sore nipples, he slowly drags his large palms down your stomach and stops when he reaches your pussy. you watch in pain biting your lip how his hand is resting on your cunt. Yunho gives you a kiss on your head and he stays in that position while his hand slowly begins to pull your panties to the side revealing your soaked swollen pussy. low hums vibrates on top of your head coming from Yunho as he draws small circles on your clit.

he slides his two fingers through your folds a couple of times making your stomach flex every time he repeats it. you’re resting your back against Yunhos chest and breathing heavy trying your best to hold yourself together but it was damn hard when you were being touched by the hottest man you’d ever laid eyes on.

“so good for me doll”

he finally slides his long pretty fingers into your tight hole and leaves his thumb on your clit putting pressure on it while he curve his others hitting your g spot. a high pitched moan flies out and he’s fast to cover your mouth with his other hand.

“shhh, don’t want anyone to hear right”

“your tight little pussy taking my fingers so well”

you’re sweating down your back and between your tits, something your busy boyfriend loved to see. he has you bucking up against his fingers and he adds a third since you’re taking him so well and good girls deserves the best.

Yunho speeds up his thrusts and removes his hand from your mouth and replaces it with his own mouth, your tongues fighting each other. the empty hand takes a hold of a nipple and flicking it in a matching pace with his fingers that fucks you.

Yunhos actions makes your legs shake and you almost scream into his mouth, a familiar feeling grows in your abdomen and you’re about to cum. when he sees you’re close he stops. he’s pulling out his soaked fingers and puts them on your lips, he hooks his fingers on your bottom teeth and you whine.

you suck on his digits until they’re cleaned up and squeezes your shoulders leaning in to your ear.

“what a good tiny girl you’ve been and only for me huh?” you moan in response.

he’s once again back to placing wet sloppy kisses on your shoulders while he occupies both your nipples with his magic fingers. pinching them and tugging on them is getting you wetter and wetter and you’ll cum any second now if he continues. you squirm in his arms as you feel how your cum is seeping out your pussy and onto the red rug beneath you.

while you’re catching your breath you hear Yunho unbuckle his belt and stands up.

“that was just the warm up doll”

he then takes a hold of you and lifts you up and placing you on all fours on his bed. he places his leaking cock against your entrance, you shiver at the overstimulation that sneaks up on you as he enters.

“I’ll go harder with every noise you make”

[moonstruckme]

Sorry for sending requests back to back lol, I keep having my brain work and it's crazy:

UR RECENT SIRIUS FIC GAVE ME AND IDEA! imagine poly!marauders where both reader and sirius speak french? And maybe reader uses it more when she sleepy (that's usually when I speak french), so she's just sleepily gushing to sirius abt him and james and remus and HOW MUCH SHE FUCKING LOVES THEM AND HOW PERFECT THEY ARE AND SHIT??? Omfggg

Sincerely, :]

Omg yes, thanks for requesting my love!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 719 words

“You’re all too nice to me,” you mumble as Sirius pulls your hair back into a loose bun, James washing your face with a moist cloth. “I love you guys. Not just for this, though. I love you in general.” 

Sirius’ lips curve as he watches bemusement find its way into James’ expression. He wonders if your decision to make your lovey-dovey declarations in French was even a conscious one, or if you’ve just defaulted to it as you sometimes do when you’re this sleepy. He decides to answer you in it regardless. “I love you in general, too, my sweetheart. And we’re not even as nice as you deserve.” 

“I don’t like it when they do this,” James says to Remus, even as he dries your face with a loving hand. “It’s exclusionary.”

“They don’t get it,” you lament to Sirius, catching his smirk in the mirror. “It’s so much nicer when you’re lazy. The words just flow.” 

“I don’t know,” Remus answers James, spitting toothpaste into the sink. “It’s kind of hot.” 

Sirius’ heartbeat picks up frighteningly quickly, but his grin is wicked as he leans his head on your shoulder. “Did you hear that, my love?” he asks, not bothering to whisper since no one but you can understand. “Remus Lupin thinks we’re hot.” 

“Even when they say your name?” James asks, gesturing to Sirius as if to emphasize his point. 

Remus gives Sirius a lingering look. It takes everything in him not to collapse onto the floor. Sirius looks down, breaking Remus’ stare, just to make sure he is indeed still wearing pants. “Especially then.” 

“But they could be saying anything!”

“He’s so pretty,” you say breathily, gazing at Remus. His brows raise at your devoted attention, a twinkle of amusement lighting his amber eyes. Your gaze slides to James, looking at you with suspicion. “They both are.” You turn your eyes last to Sirius, and it’s a different look than the one he’d just received from Remus, but it melts him just the same. “You all are. And all so good, and funny, and smart. I can’t believe my luck.” 

Sirius chuckles, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck. “Me neither. Do you think they know?” 

You hum, leaning back and letting him support some of your weight. He takes it happily. It’s going to be one of those nights where you’re asleep before the rest of them have even made it to bed, he can tell. “Not well enough.” 

“Cease looking at me like that this instant,” James demands. “Moony, why do they look like they want to eat us?” 

“Doesn’t sound like such an awful idea,” you say through a yawn, pulling out of Sirius’ arms to move towards the bed.

He follows you. “True,” he says, casting a charged look back at his boyfriends. “I could probably gnaw on a bicep, now that you mention it.” 

“It’s kind of nice that not everyone can understand,” you observe drowsily as you slip under the covers. “Makes it easier to say what we mean.” 

Sirius laughs. “Of course these are your darkest, most secret thoughts, you softie.” He sits down on the bed, brushing a strand of hair from your lovely face. “If you couldn’t understand me, I’d be saying much filthier stuff.” He cocks his head. “Actually, you don’t know what braquemard means, do you?”

Your eyebrows cinch, and there’s a gasp from the bathroom a moment before James comes barreling into the room.

“I heard something!” He exclaims. Sirius smirks up at him from his place on the bed. “That brack-whatever—it’s dirty, I think. I’ve heard him use it before.” You snicker into your pillow, and James looks at you in horror. “Angel, what’s he roped you into? Is he corrupting you while we can’t protect you?”

“Interesting,” Remus hums, moving slowly towards the bed. He approaches Sirius, nudging the other boy’s legs apart and fitting himself between them. Sirius’ heart pounds against his rib cage as Remus tilts his head up, fingers curled lightly around his jaw. “Gonna tell us what you’ve got to say, pretty boy?”

Sirius takes a shuddering inhale, static filling his head as Remus strokes idly at his face. 

You make an amused harrumphing sound, and speak in English so everyone can hear. “Softie.” 

[suzukiblu]

Day ten of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. tw: implications of past grooming/abuse and the inherent problems that causes for someone who was in that situation and hasn’t processed it trying to have a relationship with someone actually age-appropriate. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I mean–it’s nice,” Kon says, smiling just as helplessly into his collar and keeping his eyes on the sidewalk as they walk. “Just, you know, it’s not the kinda stuff you usually get me. Like–it’s just, you know–pretty, or whatever. It’s not for anything. Like, I can’t wear it for you and it’s not, you know, food or a game or anything.” 

Tim did not actually realize that he hadn't bought Kon anything that didn't count as “useful” yet, though given the video games and candy and jewelry he's pretty sure they just have different definitions of what “useful” actually is. Also he needs to take a moment to not burn alive over Kon saying the phrase “wear it for you” again, which definitely takes the full moment, because Jesus Christ. 

That has not gotten any less affecting, yeah. 

“Oh, I guess,” he says in his best imitation of a normal person's normal voice. “I didn't really think about that. I just thought you might like it, so I got it for you.” 

Kon somehow finds a new shade of red to turn that honestly might actually be a Kryptonian-related one, considering the intensity of it. It is, unfortunately, cute as fuck. 

“I mean, I do like buying you clothes and stuff, obviously. You look really nice in that outfit, for one,” Tim says, and Kon glances away again, still smiling helplessly and still just as red-faced. He really does blush so easy. It’s weird, Tim thinks, given how much flirting he does. But maybe Kon’s just the “can dish it out but can’t take it” type, he guesses. 

Alternately, maybe people just aren’t complimenting him as often as he deserves and he's not used to hearing it. 

. . . Tim makes a mental note to pencil in some affirmations in Young Justice’s next training session and also to buy Kon even more flowers than he was already planning to. Flowers that come with little hand-written cards that say nice things about him, specifically. 

“You better think I look nice in it, pretty boy,” Kon says, biting his lip around another grin. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted me all fancied up.” 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I liked the crop top too,” Tim allows, and Kon bursts into laughter and then lets go of his jacket collar and just–beams at him, actually. Just–literally actually beams, brighter than anything in Gotham that doesn’t run on electricity. 

Tim manages not to step off the sidewalk into traffic by Robin-reflexes alone and literally nothing else. 

Jesus, that expression. 

“I like, uh–that,” Kon says, and then blushes a little darker again. “Um–I mean, I like that you, uh . . . like to get me stuff you think I look good in. Uh. I don’t know how to say this without it sounding weird, fuck, just–just I like it.” 

“Oh,” Tim says. The warehouse district in his brain is a lost cause; the fire has officially spread to the docks and across downtown. His mental Gotham is going the way of 1871 Chicago, he’s pretty sure. “Uh–um, good. I’m glad.” 

“It’s just, um–I dunno, it’s just nice to look nice for somebody,” Kon murmurs a little bit shyly, tugging his jacket collar up over his mouth again but still obviously smiling behind it. Tim isn’t sure if that’s a line of thought he should be concerned by after the kind of things Kon was saying earlier, if–“Instead of, you know. For everybody.” 

. . . Tim decides that actually, never mind the concern. Kon can look as good for him as he wants to, if what Kon’s used to is being stuck having to look good for some stupid ad campaign or magazine shoot or what the frick ever. And like–it’s not like he has a problem with Kon wanting to wear things he thinks he’ll like. That is pretty much the opposite of a problem for him, in fact. 

It probably explains the makeup, too. There were definitely not any ad campaigns with glitter eyeliner or nail polish involved. 

. . . not that Tim’s seen all the ad campaigns or anything, just–

Alright, fine, he’s seen all the ad campaigns. That’s just Bat SOP, alright? And definitely only Bat SOP.

[artdcnaldson]

yes!! you get it!! forcibly feminising art, calling him your pretty gf, making him wear frilly skirts and matching collars at home... then going out in public on a nice date with only both of you knowing that he's wearing a lacy matching set under his clothes. also making him "scissor" you as the only way he gets to cum.🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

MMMMMM <3 so much of this that I love <3

I imagine this as like a cocky, fratboy era at Stanford where he needs to be severely humbled. He’s bossy and strings you along and you just think he needs to be taught a lesson!

You convince him to let you tie him up, mainly because he doesn’t think you have it in you to take charge. But the second his pretty wrists are cuffed to the headboard with fuzzy pink handcuffs and your whole demeanor switches, he knows he severely underestimated you.

Just barely rubbing spit slick fingers over his tip and asking if it feels good when you play with his clit like that, pinching and rolling and teasing his nipples and telling him how much you love his tits <3 he’s blushing and squirming and pouting like he hates it, but you can feel how hard he is, pressing against your thigh as you straddle him.

“please—“ he practically whines, bucking up, seeking friction. You kiss his pretty lips and murmur something about your sweet, needy girlfriend. His whine of protest sounds a lot like a moan. He’s stuck in a delicious place between complete mortification and being so turned on he can barely think when you slot your legs between his so your pussy fits right at his base and you start grinding against him.

He shouldn’t be so turned on when you tell him how much you love scissoring with your pretty girlfriend. When he begs to fuck you properly and you tell him he cums from this or not at all. And he does. Cum from just scissoring. He makes a huge mess of shooting his load against your thigh, so it drips down your leg and just makes everything hotter and wetter and he comes so hard he thinks he sees god.

After that it doesn’t take any bondage at all. Art will let you sit in his lap and apply pretty lipgloss to his lips and dress him in skirts because “those pretty legs deserve to be shown off.” He lays back as you use your wand on his cock and say you want to make him squirt. He nuzzles against your hand when you pet his face and call him your sweet girl.

Yeah, it’s not so hard to tame fratboy!art.

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (26/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Burning things is a good way to get rid of stuff. But perhaps you and Charles have more in common than you like.

Warnings: this is quite angsty (mentions of cheating, Annika and Raphael), fire (of course), some fluff

Word Count: 4.2k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: this is a long one. but well, I felt like it. there are some Easter eggs in this chapter, tell me which one you found! feedback is appreciated (as always, please and thank you!)

Since your newly purchased items have not made it any further into the apartment than the hallway, Charles' bedroom looks pretty empty. There are three large boxes next to the door, which gradually fill up the longer you stay in the room. 

"What about this?" you ask Charles and show him a pink candlestick that was recently on the windowsill. 

Your roommate pulls his head out of the closet. "Throw it away."

"Okay." You try not to trip over anything as you walk over to the door and place the item in the left box, which already contains a vase and empty picture frames. As you straighten up again, a shirt flies past your face before landing in the right box.

"Sorry," Charles mumbles, without taking his eyes off the clothes in front of him. 

"It's all right." You glance at the chest of drawers against the wall. "What about this?" you ask, pointing to the few books arranged by size on the dark wood. 

Charles sighs. "Just assume you can throw away everything in this room." Another item lands in the box on the right. 

Unsure, you bite the inside of your cheek.

The idea was to get all the stuff Annika left in the bedroom out of the apartment and - if possible - burn it in Jori's fire bowl, in the hope that Charles can have closure. The box on the left is for things that can't easily be turned into ashes, such as picture frames, candlesticks or small, empty flower pots. The middle one is for things Annika couldn't pack in her haste, like jewelry, clothes, electronics. She would come to collect them at some point. 

The box on the right is for flammable things. The pictures from photo frames, books, tickets from events the couple attended together - and the clothes Charles throws in. And it looks like they're his. 

"Can I ask why you're throwing away your clothes?" you ask timidly as you sit down on the bed. You run your fingers over the soft fabric, which will also end up in the right-hand box later. 

Charles pushes some empty hangers aside before taking a jacket off the hanger. "Everything in this room is from when Annika and I were a couple." He shows you the jacket. "I was wearing this the first time we went to the racetrack together. Our first public appearance as a couple." He throws the jacket towards the door before grabbing the next item - a sweater. "I wore this one on the first Valentine's Day. We went out for dinner and then to the movies."

You purse your lips. "And you want to get rid of all these memories? Even if they are nice ones?"

The sweater lands on the jacket before Charles turns to you and looks at you for the first time since you walked into this room. "That woman cheated on me. Took advantage of my trust and broke it." His gaze is rock hard. "Whoever she was to me, she doesn't deserve to have her memories here. I want to put it all behind me. I want to be free."

You see a sad glint in his eyes, which you don't address. Instead, you get up from the bed and begin to sort out everything that's still lying around into the boxes, while Charles pulls one item of clothing after another out of the closet. 

Apart from a little rustling and your footsteps, the room is silent. You want to give Charles his space, give him the peace and quiet he needs to sort out his thoughts and really come to terms with the relationship. The fact that he has asked you to help him with this warms your heart. Because even though you've only known each other for a short time, he's the person you care most about. The person you would run to immediately if your life went down the drain. The person you can tell everything to without being judged. 

You seem to be that person for Charles too - the person he can trust without having to worry, the person who would help him bury a body - this feeling warms you from the top of your head to the soles of your feet. 

"I think that's it," Charles finally interrupts the silence and closes the now empty closet behind him while you remove the cover from one of the two pillows. His gaze wanders from your face to your hands. "You don't need to do that. We'll put the bedding in a big bag and then it can all go."

"Are you sure?" you ask uncertainly, but put the pillow back on the bed. 

"Very sure. I don't want to sleep in a bed she slept in or cover myself with a blanket she slept under. I just want to put it behind me."

"Okay." You walk around the bed and put in the clothes that missed the box. "Which car do we take? My Renault is still at the old place and your Ferrari won't fit the stuff." Besides, it would be too conspicuous and you don't want us to be seen in it together.

"There's an old car of my brother's downstairs in the garage. It's bigger than the Ferrari," he calls out from the hallway, where he's rummaging around in one of the cupboards before entering the bedroom again. In his hand he holds a huge blue plastic bag from a Swedish furniture store. "If that's not enough, I've got another one."

It's not enough. The bedding actually has to be divided into three different bags until the bed is empty except for the mattress. As Charles stands at the front door, one bag on each shoulder and a box - containing the last bag - in his hands, he peeks past it. "Can you open the door for me, please? I'd like to take the things downstairs."

As packed as he is, you have to stifle a grin. The Monegasque looks like a pack mule. "You can walk several times, you know that? Then you won't be straining your shoulders."

Your flatmate blows a strand of hair out of his forehead. "No way. I'd rather fall down the stairs before I have to walk twice."

As you open the door and press the elevator button for him, you just shake your head. "Then it's a good thing there's an elevator here. You'll still have to go a second time."

While Charles takes the things to the underground garage, you put the other two boxes by the front door before you go in search of another large bag. As Charles has already used all the available bags from the hall cupboard, you have no choice but to take a bin liner from the kitchen. As you hear him grab the second box, you poke your head out of the kitchen. 

"I'll bring the other box in a minute. You can wait downstairs by the car, okay?"

"All right," he replies and puts the box on his hip. "It shouldn't be that heavy. It's just the picture frames and stuff in there." He smiles at you. "See you in a bit then. But hurry up."

You roll your eyes, which makes him laugh before he disappears with the box in his hands. When you're alone, you walk from the kitchen into the living room, where the red roses that Charles must have forgotten are still on the white piano. You carefully put them in the bag, taking care not to tear the thin plastic, and then tie it up before dragging the bin bag into the hallway and putting it in the box.

The roses make the box much heavier than expected and when you arrive a few minutes later, panting, in the underground parking garage where Charles is already waiting to meet you, you are glad when he takes it off your hands. 

"What's in there?" he asks, pointing to the bag after placing the box in the trunk of the silver car.

You shrug your shoulders. "I found this. We can burn it if you like," you simply reply and drop into the passenger seat while Charles closes the trunk. 

The drive to Joris is shorter than expected and although it's not too late, the sky is already turning red, as if the sun is about to set. There's some song on the radio that you don't know and Charles isn't humming along to. As he finally steers the car through the familiar narrow alley and then pulls on the handbrake in a parking lot, the front door opens and Joris enters the courtyard. 

"Hello, you two," he greets you as you get out of the car. While he shakes Charles' hand, he presses a kiss to your cheek, first on the left and then on the right. "You said on the phone that you wanted to burn something?" He rubs his hands together excitedly. 

Your roommate nods and opens the trunk. "Not only that." He takes one of the boxes - the one with Annika's belongings - and hands it to his buddy. "I'd like to leave them here, if that's possible. I don't want to see Annika again and I'd be incredibly grateful if you could give her her things back."

"Of course," he replies and takes a look in the trunk. "What about this?" With a nod, he points to the box with the picture frames. 

"This," Charles begins the sentence before grabbing the box and walking over to one of the garbage containers that must belong to Jori's house. Without giving it much thought, he dumps the contents into the garbage can before rejoining you to take the three bags of bedding and throwing them into the container as well. "'Is garbage. We'd like to burn the rest that's left there."

"The firewood and fuel are already ready."

The boys carry the things upstairs and you follow them. When you arrive at Jori's apartment, you close the door behind you while Joris puts the box with Annika's things in a room and Charles walks towards the rooftop terrace. You open the door for him and he smiles gently at you as he walks past you towards the fire bowl, which already has some wood in it. 

A little later, Joris joins you, a small canister of gasoline in his hand. "You'll need this. Please don't burn yourselves. I've got a quick online meeting coming up and no time to drive you to the hospital." 

"Thanks, man. I appreciate that," says Charles as he takes the burning liquid from his buddy's hand. As Joris disappears, Charles pulls an outdoor couch sitting in a corner near the fire bowl. "In case it takes longer. Then we don't have to stand the whole time."

While Charles lights the wood, you take the garbage bag with the roses out of the box and put it next to the couch. "Would you like something to drink?"

Charles looks up from the small flame snaking around one of the logs. "There should be cans of Coke in the fridge. And there should be some sweets in the cupboard in the living room." When you look at him in astonishment, he grins. "Go ahead and help yourself. Joris has already eaten my entire fridge once when he was drunk."

"Okay." You leave him alone on the roof terrace and go searching. You actually find the cans in the fridge, two of which you take and put on the living room table so you can rummage through the cupboard for something sweet. You find fruit gums, some chocolate - which you probably shouldn't bring anywhere near a fire - and a bucket of popcorn, which you tuck under your arm. 

When you return to Charles with your hands full, he laughs. 

"What?" you ask, confused, as he takes the bucket from you. "You told me to help myself. And that's what I did."

"That's right." He motions for you to sit down on the sofa. As he sits down next to you, he nudges his knee against yours. He opens his can of Coke and you do the same. "Here's to the future." He holds his can out to you.

You clink glasses with him. "To the future."

After a few minutes, the fire burns brightly and warms you on this beautiful winter evening and Charles pokes around in the wood with a poker, which apparently belongs to the fire bowl, before grabbing the box and placing it between you on the couch. The fact that there's this physical distance between you both bothers you more than it should. 

"Two years for nothing," Charles says as he pulls out the first picture. It shows him and Annika lying on the beach and smiling at the camera. He throws it into the fire. "For nothing, for absolutely nothing."

"Don't say that." You watch as the flames engulf the photo. "You learn from relationships. No matter how long they last."

He throws a piece of paper into the bowl. It looks like a concert ticket. "And what have I learned? How to be cheated on without realizing it? I definitely didn't need to learn that." His tone is cold.

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. When you take your eyes off the fire and look at him, his features are soft. He looks hurt. You purse your lips. "How did you find out?"

"I caught them." As you stare at him open-mouthed, he shrugs. " I was actually planning on flying from race to race, but my gut told me to fly back home." He has to swallow. "When I walked through the front door, there were already shoes there that weren't mine. And when I walked towards the bedroom, I heard them."

You raise an eyebrow. "They were doing it in your bed?" No wonder he doesn't want to keep the bedding or the bed. 

He nods weakly and throws one of his shirts into the fire. "I knew exactly what was behind the door and yet it broke my heart when I actually saw it. It wasn't much, but enough to know that it could never have been that 'it's not what it looks like' thing."

You hand him two plane tickets, which he throws away without looking at them. "And then?"

"She wanted to talk to me, begged me to stay with her and said how sorry she was. But I didn't want to hear any of it. I just turned around and left. I couldn't look her in the eye."

"I can understand that," you answer him quietly. 

"I think if I had really loved her the way you do in relationships, I would have thrown her out of the apartment straight away. But when I left and created distance between us, I racked my brains as to why she did that. And it was all over the internet that a lot of people do it because they feel neglected by their partner and are looking for closeness with someone else."

"And that's why you felt so bad that you allowed her to continue living there?" He nods. Another couple of photos land in the flames and catch fire. "Did you know the man?"

He shakes his head in response. He fixates on a burning log as if he doesn't want to look at you. When he does, his gaze is full of the kind of pain and hatred you've only ever seen on his face once before. As you remember the situation, your heart breaks. For both of you. 

When you answer him, your voice is no louder than your breath. "It was Raphael."

Your stomach clenches so tightly that you feel like throwing up. That's how Charles knew where Raphael worked. Something you've forgotten until now. Something is pounding behind your eyes and it's only when a tear runs down your cheek that you realize you're crying. 

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." Charles' voice is soft and through the veil of tears you see his hand twitch, as if he's struggling to take you in his arms and comfort you. But there's this stupid box between you. And you've never felt so lonely. 

"Y/N..."

"Don't," you say quietly and without thinking about it, you reach into the box between you, grab everything you can with one hand and throw it into the fire in front of you. You watch as Annika's face burns. You throw a second handful into the fire bowl. This time it's his jacket. "That bastard."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'd rather kill them both."

A faint smile spreads across Charles' face. "I'm afraid that's not possible. Although I've thought about it before. But I'm afraid that I won't be able to drive my super-fast car if I'm behind bars."

"What if I take over for both of us?" 

"I think the prison clothes would look good on you, but the visiting hours are definitely a pain in the ass and I couldn't stand not seeing you every day," he says gently and reaches for the now empty box, which he now places on the floor next to the couch. Then he pulls you into his arms. And from now on, it's not the fire in front of you that warms you. 

You stare into the fire for a while, feeling Charles' arm around your waist and his cheek on the top of your head. "Are you going to tell me what's in that garbage bag?" 

"Oh." You straighten up, dumbfounded, and lean over the backrest to pick up the bin bag. As you turn back to Charles, his gaze quickly flickers back to your face. "This morning - after your mother visited - we were sitting together in the living room and you couldn't stop staring at the piano. But it wasn't the piano, was it?"

He shakes his head and as you untie the knot of the bag, he takes a peek inside. "I'd totally forgotten about that just now." 

"That's what I thought. That's why I brought them." You pull out the letters of roses and place them next to you on the couch before handing him the first one. While he throws the first rose into the fire, you open the bucket of popcorn and snuggle up to his side again. 

"Annika gave it to me for our second anniversary," he explains, before opening his mouth and looking at you expectantly. As you pop a few pieces of popcorn into his mouth, he grins at you. You ignore the fact that your fingers are tingling where they touched his lips: "I don't even like roses. I think they're too hackneyed and the most unimaginative thing you can give someone to show that you love them."

"So a gift without really making an effort," you continue his thought. "And what are your favorite flowers?"

When he looks at you, his gaze is warm and there's a sparkle in his eyes that you can't quite put your finger on. "Peonies."

You feel the warmth shoot into your cheeks and turn your gaze away from him. He throws more roses into the fire and you continue to pop popcorn into both of your mouths as the flowers burst into flames in front of you. You hope that this action is as cleansing for him as it is being said all over the internet. You hand him the second letter, which he can burn in peace, before standing up and taking his empty Coke can. "I guess you need a new one?" 

His grin is wide. "Yes, please."

You disappear into the kitchen, where you leave the can on the counter and take a new one from the fridge. As you go back to Charles, you bump into Joris, who is just coming out of one of the rooms. "How did your online meeting go?"

"Pretty good," he replies and walks past you into the kitchen to take another can from the fridge. You stop in the doorway. "It was just about familiarizing myself with my new job, which I start in the New Year."

"That's right," you reply and raise your eyebrows. "You said you'd been offered a job. Are you already looking forward to it?"

"Very much. I can hardly wait," he replies as you walk towards the living room. You can watch Charles through the window as he continues to set the roses on fire. "Was that your idea? With the whole burning thing?"

You nod. "Yes. I burned my ex-boyfriend's things too when I found out he'd cheated on me. Only I didn't have a big fire bowl."

"Then where did you do it?"

You shrug your shoulders. "In the kitchen sink."

Joris has to laugh before he nudges yours with his shoulder. "Your friendship is good for him. He's never opened up to anyone as quickly as he did with you. I'm starting to think I need to worry that you're taking my place as his best friend."

"Haha. You two have known each other for ages. I don't think I could ever get in the way, even if I wanted to." You have to smile. "But Charles is definitely my best friend. There's nothing I wouldn't want to share with him."

"It's nice to hear that you're good for each other." He smiles at you. 

"Do you want to come outside?" you ask him as you walk to the patio door. 

Joris waves you off. "You go and do your cleansing thing. But please don't burn down the sofa. That's sacred to me."

You stick your tongue out at him and grab the blanket hanging over the back of a chair before returning to Charles, who has now reached the last letter. You hand him the Coke and spread the blanket over your knees. The sun has set, but the fire in front of you is so bright that you have no problem seeing his beautiful face. 

"Do you think she would have cheated on me too if I had been a better boyfriend?" Charles asks quietly at one point, without looking at you. 

"I don't know."

He thinks for a moment. "She said that everything in my life revolves around Formula One. That I don't notice what's going on around me. And that I was never there for her like a boyfriend should be. And that she had to share me with the whole world." As he turns to you, you see tears glistening in his eyes. "You said you were sure there was someone out there for me who wouldn't find my job too hectic. Who will support me no matter how hard it gets."

You turn to him and put your hand to his cheek to make him look at you. A tear rolls down his cheek and you wipe it away with your thumb. "I have. And I mean it."

He licks his tongue over his lips. "You also said that there's a person out there for everyone. A soulmate with whom you can share everything. With whom you don't have to pretend and can be who you really are." You feel his arms wrap around your middle and before you know it, you're sitting in his lap. 

You wrap your arms around his neck so you can hold him tight. 

"So you think there's someone else out there for me? That I haven't missed my chance at love?" You feel his warm breath on your face and how much you want to kiss away the tears that escape his eyes. Take away all his pain. Show him how much he means to you. 

But now is not the right time. Someday. Maybe.

"I promise you that." 

You watch him throw the last rose into the fire. In an instant, the red blossoms catch fire, the stem begins to glow and before you know it, this last piece from a time Charles wants to forget at all costs disappears and turns to ash. 

His grip on you tightens. A sign for you to turn towards him. When you look at him, his cheeks are wet, but he doesn't look sad. The smile on his face is honest and genuine and so loving that you can't help but return it. 

He would love to put his hands on your face and kiss you until you can't breathe. To feel your lips on his, your skin on his and tell you how important you are to him. How much he craves you and that everything he feels for you goes beyond the limits of friendship. But the only thing he does is grab your hand with his and squeeze it twice. Maybe you'll understand. Understand why he always squeezes twice. 

The right time will come. Someday. Maybe. 

When you look at him, with tears in your eyes and a warmth that makes his heart stumble, he has to swallow. He's never been as grateful to anyone as he is to you. 

"I'm free."

[krirebr]

Caught Up in Your Trap

Pairing: dark!Andy Barber x f!reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: You spend your first day in your new home. Part of the Trapped AU.

Warnings: Dark elements, kidnapping, human trafficking, drugging, training, punishment, isolation, injury, forced intimacy - Just trust me when I say that this is dark. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

A/N: Oh my god, you guys. Uh, happy sin day, I guess?? 🤣 Because I am apparently incapable of just leaving a one-shot alone, this is a prequel to I Don't Want a Lot for Christmas spurred by some unhinged 4 AM thots. It is definitely the darkest thing I've written so far. Whoops.

Big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who was not only the fantastic sounding board she always is, and let me ramble on about all my research into furnaces of all things but also helped me figure out the title for both this fic and the greater AU it's now a part of (🤦🏻‍♀️ Seriously, Kris, just stop!). Hat tip to Bruce Springsteen for both, as well. I'm sure he'd be thrilled. 😂

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Andy pulled up at the address he’d been given, more surprised than he should have been that it was an abandoned warehouse. Of course, this sort of deal would be completed there. He should have known from the sorts of channels he’d had to go through to set it up. Connections left over from his days in the DA’s office. Well, that wasn’t the side of the law he was on anymore. 

He walked into the large open space that made up most of the building to find a man standing in the middle of a few folding chairs. He had a neatly trimmed mustache and was wearing sharp but tight clothing. He wasn’t who caught Andy’s attention, though. No, that was you, slumped over in one of the chairs, wearing the clothes you must have been taken in. Even like this, he could tell your pictures hadn’t done you justice. You were absolutely perfect. Or you would be, once he was done.

“Barber!” the man called out, a satisfied smirk raising his mustache. “How nice of you to join us!”

“Hansen,” Andy answered evenly. He nodded at you, “She ok?”

“Oh, she’s fine. Just on enough horse tranqs to move her across the country without her realizing it. She’ll only be out for another day or so.”

Andy walked over to you. “I’m sure you don’t mind if I check for myself. With the amount of money I’m paying you.” Hansen gestured for him to go ahead, so he placed a gentle hand on the pulse in your neck, pleased to feel that it was strong and steady. He took a step back and opened the untraceable banking app on his phone. He clicked the transfer button, moving an ungodly amount of money from his numbered account in the Caymans to the account Lloyd had given him. “Alright,” he said, “the money’s in your account.”

The other man snapped his fingers and someone appeared out of the shadows, holding a tablet. “And I’m sure you don’t mind,” Hansen said as the new man tapped his screen, “if I check for myself. With the amount of work I’ve done for you.”

They all waited in tense silence for the confirmation of the transfer to come through. Andy couldn’t take his eyes off you, eager to finally get you home. After everything he’d been through, this was what he deserved. The perfect wife, the perfect family, the perfect life. And he was going to do it right this time, taking full control until he had exactly what he wanted. Nothing left to chance. It was costing him a pretty penny, but it was worth it.

The man with the tablet nodded at Hansen, who clapped his hands together. “Alright!” he said. “Let’s get this done. My men will get her settled in your car while we finish up.” Two more men came out from the edge of the room and started to put their hands on you. Andy couldn’t help the growl that came out of him. Hansen laughed. “Don’t worry, Mr. ADA, they won’t hurt your precious new wife. You have my word.” 

Andy gave a hesitant nod, as they carried you out of the warehouse, clicking the unlock button on his car fob so that they could get you settled. He didn’t take his eyes off you until you were gone.

Hansen reached down and picked up a thick folder. “Everything you’ll need is in here. Everything for her new identity, all in order, all immaculate. Marriage license. Anything from her old life you might need. Although I’d get what you need from those quickly and then burn them.” 

Andy took the folder and briefly paged through it. New birth certificate, social security card, IDs, passport. Everything he’d need to start your new life. He put the folder in his briefcase. “Thank you. Anything else?”

Hansen smirked again. “Eager to get started?” He leered in the direction you’d disappeared. “Can’t say I blame you.”

Andy cleared his throat, not appreciating the way Hansen was talking about what was his. “Yes, I would like to get us both home. Are we done here?”

“Sure sure. You have a good time now,” he smirked.

Andy gave him a curt nod and then exited in the direction Hansen’s men had taken you. There was no sign of them by his car, but you were laid out across the backseat. He opened the door and leaned in to brush a gentle finger across your cheek. He wouldn’t be able to relax until you were secured inside his home. It was so close now.

This wasn’t your room. You’d woken up some time ago (you couldn’t say how long ago exactly. There were no clocks, no windows) in the most comfortable bed you’d ever felt. You thought it might swallow you up, it was so soft. Luxurious. The whole room was that way. Beautiful. Rich. You were dressed in a satin nightgown that wasn’t at all like anything you owned. You tried very hard not to think about the fact that someone must have changed you. The door was locked from the outside, a small keypad right under the doorknob. You tried banging on the door. Yelling for someone. Nothing. A quick exploration of the room hadn’t yielded anything either – the two other doors were also locked, a dresser held only men’s clothing. So you’d spent the last who knows how long just laying in the bed, trying not to panic or cry. You weren’t very successful at either.

The most disturbing thing you’d discovered since you’d woken up here was the set of rings on your left hand. One featured a large diamond, the other was a simpler band filled with comparatively tiny diamonds. The bands were fused together like you remembered your mom’s engagement and wedding rings being. It took a long time to normalize your breathing after that discovery.

Just as you were about to drift asleep again, for want of anything else to do, you heard a few soft beeps, the lock click, and the doorknob move. You leaped up and huddled in the far corner of the room between the wall and the bed, holding a pillow in front of you. There was nothing else in the room to use to defend yourself. Even the lamps were bolted down – you’d checked. 

The door slowly opened and a man walked in. He was tall, over 6 feet, and broad. He had dark, soft-looking hair, and a well-kept beard. He wore a gray cotton tee and jeans. If your adrenaline hadn’t been spiking, you would have found him so handsome. But as it was, you pushed yourself further into the corner.

He was carrying a tray, which he set down on one of the nightstands. From your vantage point, you could see a glass of water and a bowl. You weren’t feeling inclined to take anything from this man.

Your eyes cautiously tracked him as he came around to the foot of the bed. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice deep but gentle.

You didn’t say anything, just kept watching him. He leveled you with a stern look that sent a chill down your spine. His voice was much more rigid when he said, “I expect an answer when I ask a question, sweetheart.” 

You ignored him again, instead asking, “Who are you?”

He took a deep breath, flexing both hands. Extreme irritation passed over his face before it was replaced with a practiced calm. He sat at the foot of the bed and patted the space next to him. “Come sit,” he said. You didn’t move. “Now,” he growled. Something in his tone made it clear, not only that he would move you himself if he had to, but even more so, that you didn’t want it to come to that. You got up and sat on the far edge of the bed. He reached over and grabbed your arm hard, dragging you into his side. You cried out but he shushed you. “Alright,” he said, “I will answer your question once you answer mine. How are you feeling?”

This was the most scared you’d ever been. You had to take a few deep breaths before you were able to say. “I have a headache and I’m a little nauseous. And I’m very scared.”

He gently took your hand in his and cooed at you. “That’d be the drugs they used to knock you out. You’ll feel better when they’re completely out of your system. Eating will help. You can have some soup once we’re done talking.” He paused, for what you didn’t know. You didn’t say anything. He smiled. “You can ask your question now. Good girl waiting for permission.” 

Your head swung to look at him. That hadn’t been what you were doing. Had it? You were woozy and scared and just trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. That was most important, so you let his comment go and repeated your question. “Who are you?”

He squeezed your hand. “I’m your husband, sweetheart. My name is Andy.”

That was the answer you’d been terrified of since you’d seen the rings on your finger. He was fucking crazy. He had to be. The best you could do right now was to get as much information out of him as you could. “And where are we? Is this your house?” You were trying to keep your voice steady, but you could hear the tremor in it.

“This is our house, sweetheart. Just outside Boston.”

Your eyes widened and your heart rate picked up in panic. “Boston?? No– That’s– How did I get here?!” This was even worse than you thought. You were nowhere near home, nowhere near anything familiar.

He just looked at you for a moment with narrowed eyes. Then he nodded and said, “Ok, I’m going to be honest and explain it to you, because I think it will help you understand your place here. But in the future, you need to know that I don’t appreciate having to explain myself. Good wives don’t question their husband's actions. Now, since I’m going out of my way to make this clear for you, I expect you to sit quietly and listen. Can you do that for me?”

You clenched your hands into fists, wanting to rage at him for how he was speaking to you like a child, but you knew you needed this information. You needed everything you could get if you were going to get out of here, so you tried to control your breathing and nodded.

He looked at you like he wanted to scold you for something, but then visibly changed his mind and began. “I’ve had a hard life, the last few years especially, I’ve been through a lot. Things haven’t turned out the way they were supposed to. I wanted a family. I thought I had one, but– It wasn’t how it was supposed to be, and then I lost even that. I wanted to try again, but I couldn’t put in all that effort without a guarantee that I wouldn’t wind up with nothing again.

“I’m a lawyer. I used to work as an ADA and now I’m in defense. In both jobs, I’ve made a lot of connections with people from different walks of life. Through that, I found a man who provides a service – if you let him know what you’re looking for, he’ll find you a person who fills those needs. So I told him that I was looking for someone to build a family with, a good wife. He presented me with a few options, and I chose you. For a hefty price, his men picked you up and brought you here. They also put together all new paperwork for you, a whole new identity. The old you doesn’t exist anymore, do you understand? You’re Mrs. Barber now, property of your husband. I bought and paid for you. I own you, every part of you.”

You saw his hand start to move toward your thigh and you jumped up, quickly pressing yourself against the wall. You just stared at him for a moment and then the panic truly hit you, but this time, it was accompanied by blinding anger. “That’s human trafficking, you complete fucking psycho! The fuck is wrong with you?!” Once you’d started screaming, you couldn’t stop. “You can’t just buy a wife, you fucking cuck! I’m a person! People are going to look for me!” He stood up and came at you and you swung out with your fists, your nails, your knees, whatever you fucking could. You connected a few times, drew a grunt from him before he somehow pinned your wrists behind your back. You screamed as loud as you could, but it did nothing. 

He frog-marched you out of the room as he said, “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to do this so soon, but you need a timeout, honey. Some time to calm down in the quiet room, and then we can try again and go over the rules. You just need some time to think by yourself.”

You tried to pay attention as he pushed you through what looked like a little apartment: a living room, a kitchenette. He stopped at an innocuous-looking door with a keypad on it, just like the one in the bedroom. He turned you away so you couldn’t see as he entered the code, one hand still keeping your wrists in a bruising grip. Before you’d even realized he’d opened the door, he was shoving you into the room so hard you briefly left the ground. The door slammed shut behind you. You hit the floor hard and groaned. You stumbled up onto your hands and knees. You heard another beep, then the grinding of a lock. Then nothing.

The room was pitch black. You weren’t even sure where the door was now, as there wasn’t any light coming through the cracks. You crawled around, trying to get an idea of the space. It was small and empty as far as you could tell. But there was a low rumbling noise that seemed to fill the room. You couldn’t pinpoint the source just from listening, it felt like it was coming from everywhere. The floor under your hands was bare, concrete. Your hands brushed through cobwebs and other detritus you couldn’t see. You cautiously held a hand out as you continued to try to map out the room, terrified you’d smack your face right into the wall. It made contact with something hot and sharp. You pulled it back with a hiss, pain radiating through your palm. You felt the first few wet drops. Shit. You were bleeding. You’d cut yourself. Fuck. “Hey!” you called out as loud as you could. There was no answer. “Hey!” you tried again, “I’m hurt! I’m bleeding!” No response. “WHAT THE FUCK?” You were screaming now. “YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! LET ME OUT!” Nothing. God, this room was already lightproof, maybe it was soundproof, too. He wouldn’t be able to hear you, wouldn’t know you were hurt. You couldn’t tell how badly you’d cut your hand so you raised it above your head, hoping that might at least slow down the bleeding. It was dirty you were sure. God, how long did it take for cuts to get infected? You hoped you wouldn’t find out. You didn’t even know what you’d cut it on. What if it was rusty? Shit, when was your last tetanus booster? You couldn’t remember exactly. Fuck. You really didn’t want to die from tetanus in some random basement in Massachusetts. A tear rolled down your cheek. He couldn’t leave you in here too long, could he? No. He would come get you soon.

You had no idea how long you’d been sitting in the dark, your knees pulled up to your chest, one arm wrapped around them, the other still held in the air. Your shoulder was so sore, but you were too worried to lower your hand. You wished you could see the cut, know exactly how bad it was. You wished you knew how much time had passed. With no frame of reference, no external indicators, you were afraid you’d lost the ability to tell the difference between hours and minutes. It’d been hours. It had to have been hours. How long was he going to leave you here? He had to come back soon. He had to. You took some perverse comfort in the fact that he’d spent a lot of money on you. That had to mean that he wouldn’t just leave you here. He’d want a return on his investment. You tried to ignore the chills that thought gave you.

You’d been crying on and off. It made you feel pathetic but what else were you supposed to do? The panic, too, ebbed and flowed. You’d been trying to keep your breathing even, trying to ignore how small the space was, how dirty, how dark. Deep breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth. It wasn’t doing much to calm you, but at least it gave you something to focus on. 

Just as a fresh wave of tears overtook you, a blinding light came in, directly opposite you. You squinted and raised your uninjured hand in front of your eyes, but that didn’t do much to help.

“Oh sweetheart,” Andy’s voice cooed, before gently lifting you by your arms and herding you out. He half-carried you through the finished part of the basement while your eyes continued to adjust. Before you knew it, you were back in the bedroom you’d started in. He gently sat you down on the edge of the bed and crouched in front of you. You felt dazed. The room was too bright. You didn’t know how you could keep breaking the record for the most scared you’d ever been. There had to be a ceiling, a limit. You’d hit it soon, wouldn’t you? 

You still had your hand raised and cradled to your chest. Andy touched your wrist and you flinched. He raised an eyebrow in question and you whispered, “I got hurt.” He sighed and gently tugged at your wrist again. This time you let him guide your arm down, moving your hand so you both could see it. It was a little grimy and definitely red, slightly swollen maybe. There was a little dried blood, but not much. The cut was so much more shallow than you’d imagined when you were trapped in that room alone. You felt incredibly foolish. You’d thought you were going to lose your hand over a glorified paper cut. 

Andy carefully moved his thumb over a raised patch under the cut that you now realized was a minor burn. “Did you touch the furnace?” The furnace – that’s what’d been making that noise. That’s what you’d cut yourself on. That’s where he’d thrown you. What the fuck? You were lucky you hadn’t hurt yourself even worse. You looked up from your hand to see him frowning at you. “Why would you do that? Sweetheart, you have to be more careful. That was a very stupid thing to do.” He got up and walked into the ensuite, opening a cabinet under the sink.

Was he seriously scolding you for getting hurt in a dangerous room he’d locked you in?? The rage from earlier was starting to return, but it was still tempered by your fear. You did your best to keep your voice even when you replied, “It was completely dark in there. I couldn’t see anything.” A little growl came through your words, but it wasn’t anything compared to what you were actually feeling.

He came back holding a small first-aid kit. “Well then that’s a good reason to keep your hands to yourself, isn’t it?” He sat down and opened the kit, pulling out a few wipes and beginning to somewhat roughly clean your hand. “Sweetheart, I’m here to take care of you. That’s my job as your husband. But I need you to be a good girl and not put yourself in harm’s way.”

“You threw me in there!” you said, your voice starting to get louder, despite your best efforts to keep calm.

“Because you were bad and needed a time-out!” he yelled back at you. He threw the dirty wipes into the trashcan beside the bed and took a deep breath, visibly calming himself. He grabbed an ointment from the kit and began applying it to your hand. “That’s why we’re going to talk about rules now. They’re there to keep you safe and both of us happy. When you don’t follow them, something like this can happen.”

You didn’t say anything. You had to be smart if you were ever going to get out of here and antagonizing him wasn’t smart. He didn’t seem to expect a response anyway as he just silently placed a bandage on your hand and then got up and put the kit away. He came back and sat right next to you, turning so he could look into your eyes. You tried to turn your head away, but he grabbed your chin and forced eye contact. 

“Alright,” he said, his tone already so fucking patronizing. “A good thing that came out of your little tantrum is that now we know the areas we need to focus on most for improvement – manners, respect, and attitude. I did some thinking during your quiet time too, and I’ve adjusted your training schedule to focus on these things. It’ll be good for both of us.”

What the actual fucking fuck? “Training schedule?” was all you managed to get out.

Andy nodded. “I’m sure you’ve figured out that we’re in the basement right now. I have a beautiful big house upstairs that I can’t wait to show you. But you’re going to have to earn it first, prove to me that you know how to be good, that I can trust you before we can go upstairs. That’s what the training will do. I’m going to teach you exactly how to be perfect for me, everything I want, and in return I’m going to give you a perfect life, so much better than what you had before. We’re going to be so happy together, sweetheart. I promise.

“Now, it’s going to take time. I understand that. And I’m going to be patient with you. I know what your life was like before. I know that you probably never expected that you’d ever get to have this. Change can be scary. Dreams coming true, it’s scary. But I’ll be here to guide you through it all. I’m going to give you everything and all I ask of you in return is that you be good for me. That’s all.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to sob. What the hell was this? How could this man, this stranger, be so completely deranged? Be smart, you chanted to yourself. Be smart be smart be smart. And if you opened your mouth now, you knew exactly what would come out. So you kept it shut and let him continue.  

“So first, let’s talk about your tantrum. I don’t appreciate being spoken to that way. The language and the names, it’s unacceptable. So, no swearing going forward. And I think a good rule for you while we’re downstairs will be for you to address me as Sir. Once we’ve moved upstairs, you’ll be allowed to call me Andy, but whenever we’re down here, it’s Sir. Do you understand?” He looked at you expectantly. You clenched your jaw and nodded. “I expect a verbal response when I speak to you, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you gritted out. He raised an eyebrow at you and his gaze hardened. It took you a moment to realize your mistake. “Yes, sir,” you corrected yourself.

“Very good. As your husband, I expect you to give me the respect I deserve. That’s something we’ll work on. It’s very important that you don’t question me. I know what’s best for you and you need to trust that I will give you whatever information you need to have. If I haven’t told you something, it’s because you don’t need to know, ok?”

He paused again. What kind of Stepford hell was this? What had you done to deserve this? You took a deep breath. Then another. And another. Then, finally, you were able to force out a “Yes, sir.”

He smiled. “You’re so smart, sweetheart. You’ll be upstairs in no time. Now, you’ll start learning your routine tomorrow. I’ve taken some time off work for our honeymoon, so I’ll have plenty of time to get you settled and acclimated. We’ll go over wardrobe and makeup requirements in the morning too. Now,” he slapped his thighs and stood up, “your soup from earlier went cold, so how about I go get you a fresh bowl while you take a quick shower and get all that dust and grime from the Quiet Room off you?”

You held back a grimace at him calling that room that, as he walked over to one of the other doors and unlocked it. He talked to you like you were a child. All of this was so fucked up. But a shower sounded incredible. You had no idea how long it’d been since you’d had one. So you just nodded and let out a quiet, “Yes, sir.”

He beamed at you. “Everything you’ll need is in the bathroom. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

You stood and waited til he was out the door, listening to the beeps and grinding locks once he was gone. Shit. You were really fucked. You went into the bathroom and closed the door behind you. There was no lock on the inside. Of course, there wasn’t. 

You didn’t waste much time in the bathroom, desperate for a hot shower. You vaguely registered that the counter was stocked with all sorts of beauty aids – expensive lotions and serums like he’d bought out a department store beauty counter. The shower too, was equally well stocked. So much fancier than the Target sale items you usually stocked your bathroom with. But the shower felt incredible and that’s what you chose to focus on. 

When you were finished, you came out of the shower to see that the bathroom door was open. You could hear Andy moving around in the bedroom. You shuddered and quickly wrapped a plush towel around yourself. There was a fresh nightgown waiting for you, soft pink, all silk and lace. You grimaced and wondered what you’d need to do to get a pair of sleep shorts and an old T-shirt to sleep in. Probably more than you were willing to do, if it was even possible. You dried off quickly and slipped the nightgown on. 

When you exited the bathroom, he was sitting on the bed, the tray of food sitting next to him. There was a bowl of soup and a cup of water, along with a small plate with a few crackers. The dishes and utensils were all plastic. Nothing you could hurt him with. You sat down and watched him carefully as you lifted the tray onto your lap. He didn’t say anything so it must have been allowed. Your hand shook as you brought the first spoonful up to your lips. The soup was warm, not hot, certainly not scalding. Another hope dashed. Throwing it at him would only result in him getting wet. And angry. Not worth it. 

As you ate, you realized just how hungry you actually were. The nausea from whatever drugs you’d had had covered it up, but you were starving. You barely even tasted the soup, you just needed to eat. God, how long had it been since you’d had food? You wouldn’t bother asking Andy. You knew he wouldn’t give you an answer.

After he watched you eat for a few minutes, he said, “What do you say, sweetheart?”

God, he used that word like it was your name. It made you want to scream. You swallowed down all your anger and a spoonful of soup before you said, “Thank you, sir.” 

He gave you a satisfied smile. “See,” he said, “I knew you had good manners.”

You shoved the spoon into your mouth to prevent any sort of comeback. This fucking asshole. Luckily he let you eat the rest of your meal in peace. But he never took his eyes off you.

Once you were done, Andy put the tray on the dresser and then declared it bedtime. You watched him cautiously, as he went to the dresser and took out a pair of boxers and a cotton tee. He changed right in the middle of the room and you turned your head away. You caught flashes of skin, that if he’d been anyone else, in any other circumstances, would have had you drooling. It was becoming hard to breathe again. What else would he demand from you tonight?

You chanced a glance back up at him to find him changed and staring at you. You swallowed nervously. “Come here,” he said firmly, holding his hand out to you. You slowly, so slowly, made your way to him. As soon as you were in reach, he grabbed your elbow and pulled you the rest of the way in so that you were nestled into his chest. “I know,” he said, stroking one hand down your back, “that we’re both thinking about our first time together, but I’d like to wait.” He ran the fingers of his other hand down the strap of your nightgown, slipping onto your bare skin. “Give you a chance to get fully adjusted. Give us both a chance to get to know each other.” His voice slipped down an octave as his fingers traveled across your chest. Your body bowed to get away from him, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. “Give us a chance to enjoy each other.” His breath hitched as his hand traveled down to your breast, the other hand on your back had stilled, holding you close, stopping you from getting away. He moved his head as close as he could to yours and whispered, “I want it to be special.” Then, before you could try to back away, he was kissing you. It was firm and demanding, giving you no option but to let it happen. He angled his growing erection into your thigh, and with the way he was holding you, you couldn’t lean away from it. His tongue forced its way into your mouth and you couldn’t help the way you whimpered. It felt like it might go on forever, when he finally pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m so happy you’re mine,” he whispered. 

And then he was out of your space, leaving you trying to breathe again, alone in the middle of the room, as he climbed into the bed. You just stood there, unsure of what to do, your lips still tingling. Once he was settled on the side of the bed closest to the door, he called your name. “Come to bed now,” he said, and there was no mistaking it for anything other than an order. You ducked your head and climbed onto the bed, terrified of what might come next, but also desperate for sleep. This day had left you exhausted and confused and scared and so angry. It was all too much.

You tried to lie down as close to the edge as you could, but he pulled you in close so that your back was flush to his front, his arm thrown over your waist. “I'm so proud of you,” he whispered into your hair, “getting through your first day without having to go to the punishment room.”

Your mouth went completely dry. A room you hadn’t been to. Somewhere worse than the quiet room. “What's–” your tongue struggled to form the words. You took a breath and tried again. “What's the punishment room?” You caught yourself at the last minute and added a quiet “Sir.”

His hand caressed your side. “You keep being my good girl and you won't have to find out.”

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