#like I kept thinking that was what he’d say

[strnilolover]

✰ chris loves to suck on your tits. especially when they’re sensitive

warnings : tit sucking. slight mention of menstrual cycle. sub!chris. praising. slight mommy!kink. i think that’s it?

chris was lying beside you, his head resting on your shoulder, but you could feel the way his gaze kept darting down to your chest. he was trying to be patient—he really was—but the way you shifted slightly, your oversized shirt sliding just enough to tease him, was driving him insane.

“baby…” he whispered, his voice soft and pleading. his hand hesitantly drifted to your waist, thumb tracing soothing circles against your skin. “can i… please?”

you turned your head to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “please, what?”

chris swallowed hard, his cheeks flushed a deep pink. he looked embarrassed to even say it, his lips parting and closing as he tried to find the right words.

finally, he ducked his head, his voice a little whiny as he spoke. “i just want them in my mouth so bad. Please let me… you know i love how sensitive they are when you’re—”

“chris,” you interrupted, fighting back a smirk at how desperate he sounded. “you’re such a baby.”

his head snapped up, and his wide, pleading eyes locked onto yours. “i am, but I’m your baby. please, just—let me make you feel good. i’ll be so gentle, i promise. please?”

your resolve cracked at the way his voice shook with need, and you sighed, tugging your shirt up to reveal your chest. “fine, but you better be careful. they’re really sore right now.”

chris’ face lit up like he’d been handed the world, and he wasted no time, sitting up slightly so he could lean down and press soft, reverent kisses over your breasts. “thank you, thank you, thank you,” he mumbled between kisses, his hands carefully bracketing your ribs.

he glanced up at you one last time, seeking permission, and when you nodded, he let out a shaky breath before taking your nipple into his mouth. the first flick of his tongue against the sensitive bud made you gasp, and chris moaned at the sound, his hips pressing subtly into the mattress.

“you’re so perfect,” he mumbled against your skin, his voice muffled but clear. “… i love this. i love you.”

you tangled your fingers into his hair, tugging lightly, and he whimpered, the sound vibrating against your chest. he sucked gently, his tongue swirling in slow, teasing motions that made you squirm beneath him.

“chris,” you whispered, your voice breathy. “you’re being so good. such a good boy.”

the praise seemed to light him up, his moans growing louder as he nuzzled closer, switching to your other breast with a soft, desperate plea. “i wanna stay here forever. please, let me keep going. let me make you feel better.”

you couldn’t help but smile at his neediness, running your fingers through his hair as his tongue continued to swirl over your sensitive bud.

your fingers gripped the strands tighter, holding him closer against your skin as his mouth continued to suck your sensitive bud, a high pitched moan slipped past your lips, back arching toward him.

“stay as long—ngh—as you’d like baby. making mommy feel so good.”

a/n : oh i love sub chris and sub matt. gonna start writing more things for them both.

[xo100]

Little dreams P2 - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: Lando and Y/N reconnect at the Italian Grand Prix, where a coffee date sparks the beginning of a heartfelt relationship. As Lando bonds with Leo and supports Y/N, their connection grows into something deeper, proving that love can bloom in the most unexpected places.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1775

*:･ﾟ A/N: hello babes! As you all wanted part two of little dreams, hope you all enjoy this and that this was what you expected, love you lots!

masterlist / community / request / previous

౨ৎ

The envelope with Lando’s note sat on Y/N’s nightstand for weeks after the race. She’d reread it so many times she practically had it memorized. Every time she glanced at it, she felt a flutter of something she hadn’t experienced in a long time—hope.

Leo, of course, had been on cloud nine since the race. He showed off his signed hoodie and piece of the car to everyone, from his teacher to the mailman. Y/N couldn’t blame him; the weekend had been a dream come true.

But for her, it was more than just a memorable race weekend. Lando’s thoughtful gesture and the note he’d written kept replaying in her mind. She wasn’t sure if he’d meant it seriously or if it was just a kind gesture, but a part of her couldn’t help but wonder.

One evening, as Leo was sprawled on the living room floor playing with his toy cars, Y/N finally made a decision.

“Leo,” she said, sitting on the couch and watching him race his little orange McLaren across the carpet.

“Yeah, Mom?”

“What would you think about going to another race?”

Leo’s head shot up, his eyes wide. “Really? Are you serious?”

She smiled. “I was thinking maybe we could go to Monza next month. You’ve always wanted to see the Italian Grand Prix, right?”

Leo practically launched himself into her arms. “Yes! Yes! You’re the best, Mom!”

Her heart swelled at his excitement, but a small part of her was nervous. She didn’t know if Lando would even remember them. But she couldn’t deny that a part of her hoped he would.

---

The Italian Grand Prix was as electric as Y/N remembered. The Tifosi packed the stands in a sea of red, but Leo stood out in his bright orange hoodie, still proudly sporting Lando’s signature.

They had paddock passes again, and Leo’s excitement was contagious as they wandered through the bustling paddock.

“Mom, do you think Lando will remember us?” Leo asked, clutching her hand tightly.

“I’m not sure, sweetheart,” she admitted, though her heart hoped otherwise. “But if we see him, we’ll say hi.”

As they passed the McLaren garage, a familiar voice called out.

“Leo!”

Y/N turned to see Lando walking toward them, his face lighting up with a genuine smile. He was dressed in his team gear, a headset slung around his neck.

“Lando!” Leo shouted, letting go of Y/N’s hand and running to his favorite driver.

Lando crouched to greet him, ruffling his hair. “Hey, buddy! I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon. What are you doing here?”

Leo grinned. “My mom said we could come! And I brought my hoodie again!”

Lando laughed, glancing up at Y/N. “Good to see you again, Y/N.”

“You too,” she said, her cheeks warming under his gaze.

“You picked a great race to come to,” Lando said, standing and gesturing to the paddock around them. “Monza’s always special.”

Leo was already babbling about his favorite parts of the track, and Lando listened patiently, nodding along.

“Hey,” Lando said after a moment, crouching back down to Leo’s level. “How would you like to watch the race from the McLaren hospitality suite tomorrow? You’ll have the best view of the track.”

Leo’s jaw dropped. “Really? Are you serious?”

“Completely serious,” Lando said, grinning.

Leo turned to Y/N, his eyes pleading. “Can we, Mom? Please?”

Y/N laughed softly. “Of course, sweetheart.”

Lando smiled, his gaze lingering on her for a moment. “Great. I’ll make sure everything’s arranged.”

---

The next day, Y/N and Leo found themselves seated in the McLaren hospitality suite, the perfect view of the track laid out before them. Leo was over the moon, and Y/N couldn’t stop smiling at his joy.

When Lando stopped by before the race, Leo was thrilled to see him again. But it was the way Lando looked at Y/N, his eyes warm and his smile soft, that made her heart race.

“Thanks for this,” she said quietly as Leo chatted with another team member.

“It’s my pleasure,” Lando said, his tone sincere. “I meant what I said in the note, you know. I’d really like to see you again.”

Y/N blinked, her heart skipping a beat. “You… you did?”

Lando chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I know it’s a bit unconventional, but… I like you, Y/N. You’re smart, funny, and clearly an amazing mom. I’d like to get to know you better—if you’re interested.”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush, but she couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. “I’d like that too.”

“Good,” Lando said, his grin widening. “Then it’s a date. After the race, of course.”

Y/N laughed, her heart lighter than it had been in years. As she watched Lando head to the garage, she couldn’t help but feel that this was the start of something new—not just for her, but for Leo too.

Because sometimes, life had a way of surprising you when you least expected it.

---

The roar of engines and the electrifying energy of the race filled the air, but Y/N could hardly focus. Her mind kept drifting to Lando’s words—“It’s a date.”

Leo, on the other hand, was completely absorbed. He cheered loudly every time Lando’s car appeared on the screen or zipped past their viewing area. His excitement was contagious, and Y/N found herself getting lost in the moment, clapping and laughing as Leo celebrated every overtake.

When the race ended, Lando finished P5—a strong result given the challenges of the weekend. Leo cheered like it was a win, his voice carrying over the crowd’s noise.

“Mom! Did you see that? Lando was amazing!” Leo exclaimed, bouncing on his toes.

“He really was,” Y/N said, her heart swelling at her son’s joy.

A McLaren team member soon arrived to escort them back to the paddock, where the post-race buzz was in full swing. Lando was being interviewed by reporters, his race suit still streaked with sweat and grime, but he spotted Y/N and Leo waiting nearby.

With a quick smile and a nod, he finished his interview and made his way over.

“Hey, Leo! Did you enjoy the race?”

“It was awesome!” Leo said, his face glowing with excitement. “You were so fast, Lando!”

Lando grinned, crouching down to fist-bump him. “Thanks, buddy. Your cheering must’ve helped.”

Leo beamed, clearly delighted.

“And what about you?” Lando asked, turning his attention to Y/N. “Did you have fun?”

“I did,” she said, smiling softly. “Leo couldn’t stop cheering for you.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Lando said, his grin widening. “I’ve got to do some post-race debriefs, but after that… how about we grab that coffee?”

Y/N hesitated, glancing at Leo, who was now busy inspecting the paddock pass hanging around his neck.

“Are you sure? You must be exhausted after the race.”

“I’m sure,” Lando said, his voice warm. “Besides, I owe you for bringing my number one fan to the race.”

Y/N laughed, her nerves easing. “Okay. Coffee sounds great.”

---

Lando had arranged for a quiet café just outside the paddock, away from the crowds and cameras. By then, Leo was happily napping in a stroller the McLaren staff had kindly lent them, his little head resting on his hoodie.

Y/N and Lando sat across from each other, steaming cups of coffee between them. The atmosphere was surprisingly relaxed, and Y/N found herself smiling more than she had in a long time.

“So,” Lando said, leaning back in his chair. “Tell me more about you. I know you’re a Formula 1 fan, you’re an amazing mom, and you’ve got great taste in drivers.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Well, I’ve been a fan since I was a kid. My dad used to watch every race, and I’d sit with him, asking a million questions. I guess it stuck.”

“And now you’re passing it on to Leo,” Lando said, glancing at the sleeping boy with a fond smile. “He’s a lucky kid.”

“Thanks,” Y/N said, her voice soft. “It hasn’t been easy, but he makes it all worth it.”

Lando nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I can tell how much you love him. It’s inspiring, really.”

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest. “What about you? I’m sure racing keeps you busy, but what do you do when you’re not on the track?”

Lando chuckled. “Honestly? Not much. I play a lot of golf, stream some games, and spend time with my friends. It’s a pretty simple life when I’m not racing.”

“I bet it’s nice to have that balance,” Y/N said.

“It is,” Lando agreed, his gaze steady. “But I think it’d be even better if I had someone to share it with.”

Y/N’s breath caught at the intensity in his eyes. She looked down at her coffee, her cheeks flushing. “That’s… a bold thing to say.”

Lando leaned forward, his tone soft but sincere. “I don’t mean to rush anything. I just think you’re amazing, Y/N. And I’d like to get to know you better—if you’re open to it.”

Y/N met his gaze, her heart pounding. “I’d like that too.”

---

What started as a simple coffee date blossomed into something neither of them had expected. Lando and Y/N kept in touch after the race, texting and calling whenever his busy schedule allowed.

He made an effort to get to know her and Leo, sending little gifts for Leo and even inviting them to a few more races. For Y/N, it felt like a dream—one she hadn’t dared to imagine.

And for Lando, it was a chance to connect with someone who saw him not just as a driver, but as a person.

One evening, as they all sat together watching a race replay in Y/N’s living room, Leo looked up at Lando with a serious expression.

“Are you my mom’s boyfriend now?”

Y/N froze, her face turning red, but Lando just laughed, ruffling Leo’s hair.

“Well, that’s up to your mom,” he said, glancing at Y/N with a playful smile.

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her grin. “I guess we’ll see.”

Leo nodded, satisfied, before turning back to the TV.

And as Lando reached for Y/N’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, she couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, they were on the right track—together.

౨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know!

*:･ﾟtags; @gridprincess-04 , @justaf1girl , @charli123456789 , @lexiecamposv

[lostinlovingrevery]

Pine-Scented Soap

Trilogy! Logan X F! Reader

A/N: i just love trilogy logan

Plot: You take a shower, and Logan joins you

Warnings: SMUT 18+!!, and fluff :), fingering, handjob, (is that considered mutual masterbation? IDK), some choking, slight breast play, scenting? is that a thing? It wasn't the goal but i wrote it anyway, Logan being a menace and sneaking in the shower. Smut first, fluff after

Word Count: 1356

Hot water ran down your head, over your face and down your back, and down to the drain at the bottom of the porcelain tub. Steam filled the bathroom, fogging the windows of the sliding glass door of the tub, and the mirror. 

Your eyes were closed as you washed your hair, performing you usual routine. Soapy bubbles painted your wet skin, slowly washing off as you rubbed your hands over your body with a bar of soap now. Something pine-scented, a bar of soap you actually got for someone else. 

Your hand ran down you arm, scrubbing it clean from the day you had, when you felt a second hand on your shoulder, almost ghost-like in the the way the fingers travel over your collarbone and then up your neck, softly resting there, as you felt a warm body press into your back. 

Now, how did he manage to sneak in without being noticed?

“Logan.”

Your voice held a warning- yet playful tone. His hand came up to cradle your jaw, softly tilting your head to the side. He brought his cheek against yours, his beard softly tickling at your skin, as you felt his other hand slide onto your hips and up your soapy torso.

“Yeah bub?” He answers lowly. Turning his head, where his nose brushed against your cheek. You carefully opened your eyes, and once you didn’t feel the soap burning your eyes, your rolled them as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

“What are you doing?” You muttered, as his hand came up and traced over one of your breasts. 

“What?” He feigns innocence. “Just helping ya get clean sweetheart. You think I have less than innocent intentions for you?” His hand came back down over your neck, gently squeezing the flesh, and you could barely suppress your amusement. His hand cupped your breast, thumb rubbing over your peaked nipple. The slipperyness of the soap and water combined made the simple movement rush over your body, as you felt heat grow between your thighs. 

You felt him tip your head back onto his shoulder, his nose coming down to your neck and taking a deep inhale. “Mm.” 

“What?” You whispered.

“You smell like me.” He groans. He always had a thing about that, you smelling like him. Something possessive you didn’t quite understand.

“I’m using your soap.” You giggled. 

“Lil thief.” He grunted, he kept his free hand over your neck. His hand fondled your breasts, soap making things slippery, the heat of the shower making things intense. 

His hand ran down your torso and between your thighs, his fingers finding home between your folds. His rough calluses began pressing and circling over your bud, causing you to spread your thighs wider, in attempt to get more friction from him. 

“Lo, you think we could ever shower normally?”

“Normally? You saying this ain’t normal between us bub?” He says, a teasing edge in his voice. “Besides, don’t act like you don’t like it.” He growls into your ear, before nipping at your earlobe. 

He was right. Technically your normal was him and you getting it on in the shower. If you weren’t, there would be something terribly wrong. Logan loved showering with you, and at first you thought it was cute, possibly a bonding thing between you. Now though you’re pretty sure it’s because he gets a ticket to seeing the naked lady, and the easy access. You didn’t mind, you liked it to, just like you like giving him a little grief over it every single time just to see him beg- just a little.

His ministrations over your clit got faster, as he used practiced techniques he’d learn over his time with you to bring you to that peak. You moaned, tipping your head back onto his shoulder. His hand tightened over your throat, creating a pressure that wasn’t intense but more grounding. He brought his lips down to the crook of your neck, pressing soft gentle kisses along your skin. 

Your breath became faster, harsher, as the steam and the pleasure began to take over you, making you light-headed and weak in the knees. You brought an arm up, hand curling into Logans hair, his brown locks just now starting to get wet from the shower. His body pressed into yours, his hard erection against your back. You reached your free hand around to grab it- eliciting a groan from him as you began to stroke him. 

“C’mon baby.” He purrs, his voice tittering between controlled and a whine. With the wetness of the shower and your hand combined, your hand stroking him picked up pace. He let out a grunt when you brought your hand into a fist over his tip, thumb rubbing over his slit, pre-cum leaking out furiously over each stroke.

 Your hips involuntarily began thrusting with Logans fingers working over you- as your thighs trembled and you began to reach your peak. Logans breathing becomes harder as you matched his speed. Small whines and grunts escaping him as his hand grew tighter over your throat.

“Fuck- doing good baby- c’mon cum for me.” He moans into your ear. “You’re such a good girl, letting me do this to you- look at you-”

His praise was the final blow that sent you over edge. Your back arched, as waves of pleasure coursed through your veins, your abused clit throbbing as Logan continued working you through your orgasm. Your fist pumped him furiously, working on some sort of auto-pilot as you saw spots in your vision- unable to focus really on anything but Logans fingers. 

A loud curse escaped him, as he opened his mouth and bit down on your shoulder, a low moan vibrating against you as you felt something warm splash onto your back and cover your hand, his dick throbbing with each splurt of cum coming out of him. His hand loosened over your neck, and you attempted to catch your breath, still holding his softening cock in your hand. 

“Bleh-” You heard Logan groan, and you turned look at him cringing in disgust, licking his lips and shaking his head, his hand coming up to wipe his lips.

“What?” You asked in confusion.

“Got soap in my mouth when I bit you.” He mutters. You grinned and giggled and he smiled at your mirth, as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your chest against his. 

“You’re a goof.” 

“Yeah.” He says. “I’m yours though, ain’t that right?” 

“Mhm.” You hummed with a smile, looking into his hazel eyes with fondness. “Okay, time to clean you up.” You inform him, moving to grab your shampoo bottle, and squeezing a generous amount onto your hand and reaching up to begin shampooing his hair. He tipped his head down a little bit to help you accurately scrub his scalp.

“That’s not my shampoo by the way.” He says with a raised brow, looking at you.

“I know- But if I get to smell like you, with your soap. You get to smell like me.” 

He chuckled. “A’ight, I get to smell like…” He picked up the shampoo bottle, reading the name off it. “Blushing peonies….Manly.” He nods, a purse of his lips confirming it. You giggle, turning him around and tipping his head back, so you can start washing the shampoo out of his hair. 

Once thoroughly washed, you spun him back around, and began washing him with your body wash - something called ‘Pink sugar’ that smelled like vanilla and flowers. Logan didn’t complain though, as your hands ran up and down his body in massaging motions. He tipped his head back, a deep exhale escaping him, and when you finished lathering him up, your arms wrapped around his waist, as you pressed yourself up against him- looking up at him cheekily.  He looked down at you, a look of amusement, and love. On his face. You aren’t quite sure how you and Logan managed to get here, with everything you both been through together. You do know though, that you totally get it, you really enjoy him smelling like you too.

[kittysarchive]

Toxicity

warnings- toxic relationship, smut, head cannons, teasing, insults, dom enhypen, jealous enhypen, manipulative enhypen, crappy boyfriends,smut, mostly mean or hard dom enhypen

Heeseung

Heeseung’s toxic trait would be his ability to twist situations to make you feel guilty, even if he’s the one at fault.

He overthinks everything, making you feel like every little thing you do is under scrutiny.

If he’s in a bad mood, he’ll shut you out completely, leaving you guessing what went wrong.

When it comes to him in bed all of these traits merge together

If he cums to early, your fault

If your too quiet, are you cheating! You not cumming tonight

He'll even be quiet in bed, making you think that he should be the one getting the pleasure.

smut-

There were tears in your eyes. Through the loud sound of skin lapping and heeseungs own mumbles, you didn't want to make a sound, you didn't want to disrupt his pleasure.

And so he kept thrusting hard while painfully gripping onto your tours, squeezing them until they were people. What did you actually do to get here?

"do you wanna apologize" Heeseung grunts above you,not once slowing his pace.

"f-for what?" Heeseung quickly pulls out, his delusions tired I you lying. But what had you done? Was saying hello the male barista bad? You were just being polite. Heeseung sighs, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

"you know what,you always go around trying to cheat or create a fling behind my back" he grips you legs harshly, pulling them towards you to create a mating press.

"but I always gotta fuck the sense back into my slut' a continues now gripping his cock, waiting for your apology.

"I'm sorry....I won't do it again" you say through pain, this position was uncomfortable, it was burning your legs but saying that would just make him upset, again.

Seeming content, Heeseung opens the draw beside the bed, pulling out the lube. Your skin goes cold as he squeezes it out onto his fingers. Feeling the cold slime on your ass, you knew it was going to be a painful night.

Jay

Jay could be the type of toxic boyfriend who’s overly possessive and jealous,

constantly questioning who you’re talking to and where you’ve been. He’d act like it’s because he “cares too much,” but it would start to feel suffocating.

When angry, he might lash out with harsh words, but he’d always try to win you back with grand gestures every single time.

smut-

Your legs are pulled against you like a mating press, you've gotten used to the pain since this was one of the very limited positions he knew about it at least liked.

"fucking slut, your my girl" he rams his cock into you. Yeah maybe you shouldn't have tried to make small talk while at the bus stop.

"did you want to go home with him huh? Or did you want me to fuck you on the bench right next to him, slut" Jay laughs as if it's some inside joke. You keep quiet, muttering the occasional sorry while teary eyed.

"you see there" he's almost talking to himself as he sees the bulge in your stomach.

"I did that, he couldn't" he presses down on the bulge, groaning at how it feels. A moan slips out of you when he presses down.

"yeah I know my girl well".

Jake

Jake would be the charming toxic boyfriend who knows exactly how to make you forgive him, even when he’s clearly in the wrong.

He’d use his sweetness and affectionate side to manipulate you into thinking you’re overreacting.

If you caught him lying, he’d flip the script and make you feel guilty for doubting him.

smut-

"C'mon baby, if I was cheating I wouldn't enjoy this so much" he says pulling his mouth away from your pussy. You had caught him sending nudes to a random girl online and here he was gas lighting you.

His mouth returns to your pussy, latching onto your clit. His tongue swirls along your clit making you squirm. You couldn't stay mad at him forever though, not when you get this nearly every day.

His hands spread your thighs apart, affectingly rubbing them as his mouth continue to slurp you clean. Pulling away for a second time, he brings out his puppy's eyes.

"So do you forgive me babe?" he says, his chin dripping with your juices, you nod your head, and he dives back down before saying, "You know I love you, stop making up these delusions"

Sunghoon

Sunghoon’s toxic behaviour would come from his tendency to be emotionally unavailable.

He’d avoid deep conversations or confrontation, leaving you feeling like your emotions don’t matter.

When upset, he’d give you the silent treatment, making you feel ignored and unimportant.

smut-

Licking another stripe along his cock, he still ignores you, scrolling on his phone while you on your knees, sucking him off. It always ends this way.

You give his head kitten licks while you fondle his balls, just what he likes. His cocks hard, red and an evident vein bulging on the side of his cock, but this is as much attention as you get from him. Clearly the kitten licks and teasing weren't working. Taking a breath, you place your mouth onto his cock, you lean your head down trying to fit as much of his length into your mouth.

Nearly gagging over him, you continue to suck. A minute goes by of him still ignoring you, still scrolling on his dam phone. You pull yourself off his cock.

"I'm sorry.... for whatever I did.... I was dumb" You break the silence. Sunghoon scoffs at you, finally putting his phone to the side, giving you the attention you weren't.

"You fucking embarrassed me in front of my friends, you better be sorry" Sunghoon grips onto your hair, pulling your mouth back onto his cock, he didn't want to hear another word from you.

Sunoo

Sunoo’s toxic trait would be his passive-aggressive nature.

He’d drop subtle cutting comments about your choices or appearance, masking them as “jokes.”

When he’s upset, he’d pretend everything’s fine but act cold and distant, making you feel like you have to figure out what’s wrong.

smut-

Lying on his back, he made you do all the work. Already tired from another dumb and pointless argument, you were now 'apologising'.

Rolling your hips over your cock, Sunoo seemed almost bored underneath you, but you wouldn't fully know since you chose to turn away from him, you didn't want to see whatever scowl he was holding.

Lightly bouncing on your cock, usually you didn't see say you were tired, Sunoo would just start thrusting his hips up, giving you a break. But moments like this weren't rare, usually it'd end up with you getting tired, and Sunoo getting mad, that you couldn't even finish him off. So, you pull of his cock and sit between his legs.

"Giving up?" He almost laughs.

"No" you say, placing your mouth onto his cock, sucking slightly.

"Always finding the easy way out" he insults, leaning further back into the pillow, actually enjoying himself.

Jungwon

Jungwon’s toxic side would stem from his perfectionist tendencies.

He’d want things done his way and might criticize you if you don’t meet his high expectations.

His controlling behaviour would make you feel like you’re constantly walking on eggshells, trying not to disappoint him.

smut-

Your on your all fours, doggy style while he rams into your pussy from behind. This was purely for him, he didn't want to see your face know, he just wanted to cum. Being with him really felt like a cum slut sometimes.

You hold back your moans because you couldn't deny, he was a good fuck.

"Thats it, stay fucking still" He groans behind you, spreading your ass cheeks so he can go deeper, and you felt him deep. A moan slips out of you.

"Jeez, do I need to invest in a gag or duct tape? I said be fucking still and quiet and you can't even do one of them" He sends a slap to your ass; a mix of a cry and moan falls out of you. You hear his laugh behind you.

You were glad he couldn't see you, even with him ramming his cock into your pussy and squeezing you ass, you still felt embarrassed, you were literally being used,

NIKI

Niki would be the type of toxic boyfriend who’s hot and cold.

One moment, he’s super sweet and affectionate, and the next, he’s distant and uninterested.

He’d enjoy keeping you guessing about his true feelings, using your confusion as a way to maintain control.

smut-

"You always using me huh? Can't even use your own fingers to get off" He harshly puts two of his fingers inside your already wet pussy. Curling them inside you, your cry out in pleasure.

"Thats right, you're just a dumb bunny, you're practically fucking yourself on my fingers" He comments with a laugh. He wasn't lying, you were rolling your hips on his fingers, trying to gain more friction and he curled them against your gummy walls.

"You're nothing without me" Niki sighs, sugar coating his insult, as he brings his other hand to rub your clit.

[everytimewetouch-dot-mp3]

i can’t stop thinking abt a bingge who just. doesn’t enjoy sex.

he slept with qin wanyue at the IAC because she was dying and he was afraid and wanted to be kind, and he didn’t know how to say no. and he kept just…not knowing how to say no. everyone always had one dying wish or a deadly poison or some sort of urgent need. and lbh wanted to be good. he was desperate for any sign that he wasn’t irredeemable, that there was something about him that anyone could ever want. and these women kept throwing themselves at him in moments of desperation. and he wanted to be good.

wouldn’t it be too cruel to say no to this woman when he said yes to that one, just because he didn’t particularly want to? wouldn’t that be too arbitrary and selfish? what makes one worthy of his ‘yes’ and another unworthy? lbh had no framework to evaluate that sort of thing, no sense that this was something he could just Not Want. he wanted to be wanted, and here these women were, wanting and wanting and wanting him. why would he turn down the only thing he really desired, just because it didn’t come to him in a way he liked?

and then he picked up xin mo, and all notions of desire fled him. he’d never wanted to sleep with any of those women, but now he needed to. it was either dual cultivate with whoever asked or be consumed by xin mo. what option did he have? he was often on the verge of qi deviation; much of his ‘wife collecting’ could probably be attributed to medical necessity. and what was he supposed to do afterward? disrespect those women by sleeping with them and then discarding them? of course he’d add them to his harem. what other dignity could he offer afterward?

he never really wanted any of it. he never enjoyed it particularly. it was nice, maybe, with ning yingying because she cared for him in a way he could trust. she cared for him in her own clumsy way before his name meant anything, and when she looked after him it always felt safe. he got along with liu mingyan well, trusted her wisdom and forthrightness—and she was never overly affectionate or insincere when they cultivated together. he believed, at the very least, that she respected him as an equal.

but all the other wives… they were there because they wanted something from him, or their families did; or they were there because luo binghe wanted to be good, and a good man would not lay with someone and then refuse to take responsibility by marrying her. he had the means to provide for them. and a bountiful garden suited his station, didn’t it? never mind that he’d never really had an interest in gardening; if flowers leapt into his hands, it was his duty to plant them where they could continue to grow. that was what a good man would do.

[atzloverr]

Our unsaid truths - chapter 4

previous chapter - next chapter

series masterlist

cw: cheating (Y/n didn’t), past relationship (trauma? if u can call it that), food mentioned, Yunho flirts a littleeeee

pairings: poly!atz x reader, Hongjoong x reader, Yunho x reader

You had to admit that it hurt, seeing him after all these years. Seeing him was a harsh reminder. All those memories you had prayed for your mind to forget all came rushing back to you in a second.

”You okay there?” Hongjoong waved in front of your distracted eyes. ”Oh, yeah sure!” you smiled brightly, trying your best to make it look natural.

You told Hongjoong a white lie about having to go get some makeup-remover, just so you could be by yourself for a bit, and also flee from the situation that you feared would occur.

You hadn’t seen Minjun ever since that night. That night when you finally confronted him about the cheating.

You could still envision it so vividly, his collection of lies and threats when you told him what you had seen, read, heard. Seeing him now, seeing that his life seemed so unaffected by it, that was what made it so hard.

You looked at the time - you didn’t want to make Hongjoong suspicious by being away for too long - and you figured you had to go back now.

For every step you took, you looked around, making sure you wouldn’t bump into him. You didn’t care about that asshole, so why did you feel such a strong need to prove yourself to him? Prove that you were fine? That what had happened hadn’t affected you either?

No sane person would be unaffected by a year-long relationship ending like that, so why did you crave him to have that idea of you?

”Do we have everything?” you asked Hongjoong after the longer-than-usual walk back to him. You prayed he didn’t notice when you still looked over your shoulder every now and then.

”Yeah, I think that’s it!” Hongjoong smiled before the two of you started making your way to the cashiers.

These little trips to the grocery store that you sometimes accompanied Hongjoong on were some of the few times you actually spend one-on-one time with him.

You knew how much he meant to Seonghwa, so therefore he meant a lot to you too, before you had even met him.

You helped Hongjoong load the groceries, hearing him mutter something about how expensive everything was nowadays. You laughed at his frown, finding his little annoyed face adorable.

Everything felt fine, until you suddenly felt a big hand meet your shoulder. Your eyes widened, and your smile dropped before you could even turn around, because you knew that touch.

You had seen him approach in the corner of your eye, but you just kept your back turned, praying that he wouldn’t see you.

”Y/n? Is that really you?” you heard his voice say. You took a deep breath before turning around.

”Minjun? Wow, it’s been a while hasn’t it?” you said with that smile that you often used at work, that customer-service smile that everyone seemed to fall for. Minjun wasn’t exactly smart, so you doubted that he’d notice.

”Wow, it really has!” he said before doing what made you instantly stiffen. You hated the familiarity in his grip as he wrapped his arms around you.

”And you are?” Hongjoong asked from behind you, having just loaded the last of the things.

Minjun finally backed off, raising his eyebrows at Hongjoong with a smile. ”Haven’t told your new boyfriend about me? Wow I’m hurt,” he said, grabbing his chest and frowning. You were about to try and laugh it off before making some excuse about being in a hurry or something, but Hongjoong beat you to it.

”Sorry, but would you mind leaving? There’s a line behind you, and I don’t think they appreciate you standing in their way.”

You could hear that Hongjoong was pissed off, but he - like you - also had a big, fake smile on his face. You endured the last seconds of Minjun’s company in discomfort as he unfortunately felt the need to hug you again, and make some snarky remark about your new boyfriend being ’cute and tiny’.

You and Hongjoong stayed silent as you walked to the car, and the second you heard the rumble of the engine, you took a deep breath. You knew you had to say something, give him an explanation, maybe just an excuse.

”Who’s he?” Hongjoong asked, tone stiff. He was clearly annoyed. ”He’s my ex.”

You looked down into your lap, your hands fidgeting with the hem of your knitted sweater. ”How are you feeling?” he asked, and you looked at him in confusion. You had expected him to interrogate you, ask you when you dated, for how long, how and why things ended, why you would ever date such a guy, and so on. But no. He just asked you how you felt.

”Well, honestly…” you started after a pause. ”Seeing him really hurt.”

Hongjoong hummed, encouraging you to continue. ”I thought I’d be over it, but honestly, it was worse than ever today.”

You watched the road as Hongjoong took a different route, the one that took 20 minutes, instead of just 10. ”Go on,” Hongjoong said as you paused.

You sighed. ”Please, I don’t want to burden you with my past relationships. I don’t even talk to Seonghwa about this—” you tried, but Hongjoong shook his head with determination. ”You won’t burden me one bit, Y/n. All I want is for you to feel safe, feel comfortable.”

You smiled at those words before thinking of where to start.

”…I first met Minjun when we were just eighteen.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

You exhaled deeply when Hongjoong pulled up to the driveway. The little detour you took turned out to be an even longer one than expected, but you couldn’t complain one bit. You had told Hongjoong about your past relationship, how worried you felt that the same thing would happen again, how you doubted yourself, how you wondered if it had all been your fault.

Hongjoong listened as you rambled on, and you were so thankful that he didn’t judge you, that he didn’t call your worries immature or irrational.

When you were about to get home, Hongjoong said something that seemed to be exactly what you wanted to hear.

”You really are amazing, Y/n,” he said softly. You blinked in confusion at the unexpected comment. ”I don’t think you understand how admirable you are, and how much you really mean to all of us,” Hongjoong continued.

You were at a loss for words. ”And hearing that you’ve managed to handle all of this - all of us - even when you’ve been through these things, it shows how strong you are.”

”Hongjoong, you don’t have to say this just because—”, ”No, listen. I mean every single word I say. We all trust you, and you need to credit yourself for how well you’ve responded to our relationship.”

His words echoed in your brain as you entered the house, the only thing being able to break you out of the trance-like state you were in being San who rushed into the hallway as you entered.

He immediately took the two bags from your hands, rushing to put them away, before he returned to wrap you in his strong arms.

You giggled as he lifted you up and spun you around in his arms. ”Welcome home,” he smiled into your neck. Hongjoong eyed the two of you with a smile. Aside from your dating history, you had told Hongjoong about the previous night as well. 
Although you sometimes wondered if the others would be uncomfortable with such information, Hongjoong managed to assure you that that wasn’t the case. He made sure to express how happy he was about it, and how you didn’t have to feel ashamed over anything.

He gave you a knowing glance when San was hugging him, making you blush. You hadn’t intended to tell him the details, but he seemed to be able to draw it out of you.

It was one of those sundays that were meant for doing absolutely nothing, that or grocery shopping with Hongjoong, or helping Seonghwa clean, like you were right now.

In the morning, Seonghwa had left to go shopping for something (you couldn’t remember what it was) so he left you a little note, saying that he didn’t want to wake you up and that he would be home by three.

Hence the reason you hadn’t been able to update him about the previous night’s events yet.

You shyly brought it up while folding some laundry, and his eyes widened dramatically when you finally told him that you had managed to kiss both Yunho and San.

”Really? They didn’t pressure you to do it though, right?” he asked worriedly. You laughed, shaking your head. ”Of course not,” you reassured, making him breathe out in relief.

”But, I really don’t want to step on anyone’s toes, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way, so…” you rambled on, looking down at the floor. ”Are you sure this is okay? I thought that- maybe I should’ve asked you—” you got quieter for each word, feeling self conscious all of a sudden.

”Hey, listen to me,” Seonghwa said, hands meeting the sides of your cheeks to make you look at him. ”I meant what I said when I said that I’m completely comfortable with it, hell, I’d even say that I’ll encourage it, but of course, I don’t want you to do something that you don’t want to,” he explained.

You looked into his dark eyes, and you felt how genuine they were. You felt reassured, and you realized that these worries hadn’t been so present yesterday night, or even this morning. Maybe seeing Minjun again planted this seed, this seed of uncertainty and insecurity. You knew deep down that Seonghwa would tell you if he wasn’t okay with it, you knew that you wouldn’t be held in the dark, but the fear still stayed there, constantly existing in the back of your head.

”I saw Minjun today,” you suddenly blurted out. You needed to say it, just to get it off of your chest. Seonghwa’s face dropped.

Sure, he didn’t know all of the details of your relationship, but he knew enough to know that it was a sensitive subject to you.

”Oh my god,” he said, caressing your face. You took a deep breath. ”It felt horrible to see him. It felt like everything came crashing back down on me again.”

Seonghwa listened, sitting down on the bed next to the large piles of laundry (you didn’t know why Seonghwa insisted that you two always do everyone’s laundry).

”But then, I talked to Hongjoong about it. I told him exactly what was on my mind when I saw him, exactly how the whole situation affected me, and now—” you smiled. ”Now I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

You sat back in your chair, putting your hands on your stomach. ”I’m stuffed,” you said, looking at the plate that you had somehow managed to empty of food.

Wooyoung looked at you with a proud smile, him being the one who cooked the meal.

Yunho sat at his usual spot, in between you and Jongho. Seeing him after last night, you almost expected him to be shy or embarrassed, judging from how shy he seemed when you kissed him. But as you met him in the dining room, you saw a big smirk on his face. The hug he gave you was longer than usual, and you couldn’t help but squeak when you felt his big hands tighten around your waist, fingers digging into your flesh ever so slightly.

It seemed you were the shy one, feeling flushed when he whispered in your ear. ”I’ll get you back for catching me off guard like that.”

”Alright,” Hongjoong caught everyones attention. ”We need to discuss the trip next weekend.”

Oh right, you thought. You had almost forgotten about their seasonal trip to their cabin in the woods.

You straightened your posture, listening to Yunho who spoke up. ”Everyone’s coming, right?” he asked, looking around. His gaze stopped on you, making you look away.

”We don’t know that,” Hongjoong said, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. ”Y/n hasn’t said if she’s coming yet.”

You suddenly felt everyone’s eyes on you, anticipating your answer. ”Oh, me?” you said, voice a little higher than normal.

”Of course you’re coming! It’s a tradition!” Wooyoung said, making you bite your lip in thought. ”Hmm… I don’t know,” you said, looking down. ”I don’t want to impose or anything. I know this is your thing…”

”You’re not imposing,” Seonghwa said. ”You’re a part of us now, and I’d really like you to come,” Seonghwa looked at you with his soft eyes, his hand finding yours and rubbing the back of it with his thumb.

”Yeah! It wouldn’t be the same without you!” Mingi said, his smile wide, already making you feel better.

You heard hums of agreement around the table. ”Well,” you started, taking a deep breath. ”I mean… If you’re all sure it’s okay.”

”It’s more than okay,” Yunho said, catching your attention. ”We’ll have so much fun! And trust me, you won’t want to miss seeing Mingi attempt to fish,” he said in a very audible whisper, glancing at Mingi with a playful smile.

”Hey! I’m a great fisherman!” Mingi protested, making you giggle.

”Alright,” you finally said, but felt the need to check one more time. ”But are you guys sure it’s okay? It’s fine if it’s not—” you tried, not wanting to risk being a burden.

”Oh hush now,” Hongjoong said. ”We all really want you to come with us,” he said. It always felt good to hear it from him.

”Alright, I’ll come.” 
San and Wooyoung cheered loudly. ”This is going to be the best trip ever!” Wooyoung said.

As the others continued talking about the trip, you felt your sense of belonging only grew.

next chapter

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masterlist

[asterafroditis]

𐔌 . ⋮ a confession?! .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Azul Ashengrotto x gn! reader

𓏵 687 words

ᝰ.ᐟ 3rd Person POV, no pronouns used, fluff

feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

The Mostro Lounge was quieter than usual, the usual chatter of customers replaced by the gentle clinking of fine china and the occasional hum of the kitchen staff preparing orders. You sat at your usual spot— one Azul had specifically reserved for you, though he’d never admit it outright— and poked at the assortment of new dishes before you.

“You really are too nice to me, Azul,” you mused, twirling a spoon between your fingers. “Letting me try all these new menu items for free? I feel like I should be paying you back somehow.”

Azul, who had been calmly adjusting his glasses, nearly choked on his own breath. “T-Too nice?” he echoed, voice slightly higher than usual. He cleared his throat, composing himself. “Nonsense. Consider it an exclusive preview. Besides, I appreciate your feedback as a valued customer.”

You chuckled, picking up a forkful of a particularly decadent-looking dessert. “Right, because I’m just a customer,” you teased. “You’re always looking out for me, you know. Giving me discounts, personally checking in on me… If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re spoiling me.”

Azul’s hand twitched against the counter, and you swore you saw a faint pink hue dusting his cheeks. He adjusted his glasses again, a telltale sign of his nervousness. “I-It’s simply good business practice to treat regular patrons well.”

You smirked. “Oh? So you do this for everyone?”

Azul opened his mouth to reply but hesitated. You had him cornered, and he knew it. He quickly busied himself by adjusting a stack of menus, as if that would somehow shift the conversation away from him.

You, of course, had no intention of letting him escape. “I mean, I don’t see you offering free samples to just anyone,” you continued, feigning innocence. “So what makes me special?”

Azul stiffened, his fingers tightening slightly around the menu in his hands. The weight of your expectant gaze was unbearable, and the warmth creeping up his face refused to subside. He could feel Floyd’s eyes boring into him from across the lounge, the eel undoubtedly enjoying his torment.

“You’re…” Azul started, but his voice faltered. He took a breath, attempting to maintain his usual composed demeanor, but you had unknowingly backed him into a corner he couldn’t worm his way out of. “You— You’re special, alright?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

Azul exhaled sharply, placing both hands on the counter as if bracing himself for impact. “You’re special to me,” he said more firmly, though his voice still wavered. “That’s why I do these things for you. Not because of business, not because I’m trying to curry favor— just because I want to.”

The words hung in the air between you, thick with unspoken feelings. Azul, who had faced countless business negotiations, ruthless contracts, and the terrifying whims of the Leech twins, suddenly found himself fearing only one thing: your reaction.

You stared at him for a moment, processing his words. Then, slowly, a bright smile spread across your face. “Azul,” you said softly, “are you confessing to me right now?”

Azul let out a strangled noise, his entire face flushing a deep red. “W-Well, you were the one who kept pushing the topic!” he blurted out, practically combusting on the spot. “What was I supposed to do? Lie?”

You laughed, the sound warm and full of delight. “No, no, I just— I didn’t expect you to actually say it.”

Azul groaned, covering his face with one hand. “Seven, help me…”

You reached across the counter, gently pulling his hand away so you could see his face. “Hey,” you said softly, “for the record, I think you’re really special too.”

Azul’s breath hitched, his wide, stormy eyes searching yours for any sign of insincerity. But there was none— only warmth, only sincerity.

For once, he found himself at a loss for words. But as your fingers lingered against his, he decided—perhaps for the first time in his life— that this was a deal he didn’t need to negotiate.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Contained Monster Family (5)

Rules | Kofi | Masterlist

“Darling good to see you!!”

The vampire who was snarling at you just a week ago was reaching out to you with open arms 

Of course, it’d be a death sentence for him if you returned the gesture 

So you settled with a wave and read out the same warning that came with every check up

“Now as we begin your examination, you cannot cut, snap, outwardly threaten, vocalize aggressively to the guards present. The same actions towards me will result in a 40 hours subject to forceful neutralization. So do you agree to the terms?”

“I do!”

Letting the scientists and taser-wielding guards enter his enclosure you stood in the usual place to keep his attention

“So did you watch our video?”

Remembering the conversation you had with his werewolf husband you figured there was something important they wanted to say

“Unfortunately I haven’t. Work’s been hectic lately with so many new arrivals.”

Villar pouted, crossing his arms 

Of course the guards and the scientists all reacted as though he’d swiped at them 

Holding your hand out to tell them to continue you worked to make sure he kept busy talking to you

Wouldn’t want your only vampire to die because the team was jumpy

“Don’t be upset it was on my list of things to do today.”

Villar huffed, “Good. It would have been better to tell you in person but we’ll make do with what we have.”

“Is it anything you can give me a hint to now?”

A smile spread across his face 

“I think it’s best you see the video first then I think you’ll be rushing to talk to me.”

You left shortly after his ominous hint, promising you’d look at the video

There were quite a few other monsters you had to speak to and appease before you were finally able to make it to the records room

Pulling up the date of their scheduled meeting it was easy to use your ID card to declassify the video

“There you two are....so what exactly did you want to show me?”

The video started normally an operator warning them of the consequences before the gate pulled up no longer separating their cages

Faster than the cameras could clearly decipher they were on each other 

Kisses and hugs shared between the two as they whispered something to one another

Keeping the volume up, you watched them recount their experiences and how terribly they missed one another

Sounding like desperate star-crossed lovers in a soap opera

It wasn’t until they stopped their movements to look up at the camera 

Almost staring into your soul

Red and white eyes stare into the camera and you feel your heart began to beat faster

Did you overexert yourself today?

Take too many anti-depressants?

Why was it doing this?

It couldn’t be that those eyes made those fuzzy memories a tad clearer

Or that the sight of them sided by side reminded you of something you were sure you’d forgotten

“We have something to tell you!” “We actually are-”

But then the video cuts

A warning from the company plays 

“BEWARE THE REST OF THE VIDEO HAS BEEN FLAGGED FOR SEXUAL INTERCOURSE BETWEEN EXPERIMENT SUBJECTS UNLESS YOU ARE PART OF THE RELATIONS COMMITTEE THAN PROCEED WITH CAUTION–”

That was all you needed to hear before cutting the video 

“I guess they just wanted me to know just how…deeply in love they are…Good for them.”

Did this lower your opinion of the two?”

No Yes

Even humans who are in captivity for too long act a certain way perhaps this is just a side effect

You weren’t sure why they’d want you to see but in the end that’s not your problem

So the next time you see Rod who’s unusually more active when he sees you 

You do your best to muster a normal smile

“So you saw the video? What did you think? How do you feel?”

“Well, I’ll let you know, that when you two get together it’s worth a whole censor warning from this facility and we’ve recorded slimes ‘having fun’ with our employees. And the thing where you looked in the camera right before was very meta. If you two ever get out here I’m sure there’s a market for that kind of thing.”

“What…?”

Unfortunately, Rod eventually gathers what you think you saw and not what they originally said

He sadly goes back to his spot in the corner as he sulks 

For a minute he really thought they’d beaten him 

Well with this new road block they might never get the chance to convince you otherwise

If that’s the case no one needs to hold back anymore

[fel-09]

“Caught in the Trap”

Reader x hannibal

Words 1700? +/-

You had spent weeks pretending not to notice him, pretending his presence didn’t burn the edges of every moment you dared to exist in. Hannibal Lecter. The man whose reputation whispered through corridors, trailing tales too dark to recount aloud. Your first encounter had been incidental, or so you thought—his eyes finding yours across a sea of meaningless faces.

It wasn’t the intensity of his gaze that unnerved you; it was the stillness. Like a predator sizing up prey. At first, you dismissed it. He was well-mannered, articulate, charming even, and no one around you seemed to find his attentions strange. But something about him... gnawed at you. A discomfort that festered in your chest whenever he was near, as though every cell in your body screamed a warning you couldn’t articulate.

So, you avoided him.

At events, you lingered on the edges of conversations, retreating into quieter corners where you thought his shadow wouldn’t follow. You changed your routines, took longer routes home, refused to be alone in spaces where he might appear. Yet, none of it worked. His presence was like a thread pulling tighter and tighter, no matter how desperately you tried to unravel it.

And tonight, the thread snapped.

You didn’t know how he’d gotten into your apartment. The door was locked; the windows, bolted. But Hannibal Lecter was not a man hindered by obstacles. The moment you saw him, standing in the dim glow of your living room, the air seemed to vanish from your lungs.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said, his voice calm, deliberate.

You stepped back instinctively, only to find the wall against your spine. He didn’t move closer—not yet. But his presence filled the room like a storm cloud, oppressive and electric, drowning out everything else.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you managed, though your voice betrayed you, trembling under the weight of his gaze.

His lips curved into the faintest of smiles, but there was no warmth in it. Only something sharper, colder. “You do,” he said simply. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Your hands clenched at your sides, the only defense against the trembling that had taken over your body. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“And yet, here I am,” he replied, his tone smooth as silk. He tilted his head slightly, studying you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. “I must admit, I find your efforts... fascinating. The way you’ve tried so diligently to disappear whenever I’m near. It’s almost admirable.”

“I don’t know what you think this is—”

“Oh, but you do.”

His voice cut through yours like a blade, silencing any protests before they could form. He took a step forward then, slow and deliberate, and though the space between you remained, it felt as if he were already pressing against you.

“You’ve been running,” he continued, his words unhurried, almost clinical, “because you’ve realized something most people never do. You’ve seen me for what I am.”

Your breath hitched, the room tilting slightly under the weight of his words.

“And yet,” he said, his voice dipping lower, “you’ve stayed quiet. No police, no warnings whispered to mutual acquaintances. You didn’t scream when you saw me tonight, didn’t try to run. Why is that?”

Because you knew it wouldn’t matter.

The truth of it sat like a stone in your stomach, but you refused to say it aloud. Admitting it would be surrender, and you weren’t ready to give him that—not yet.

He took another step closer, close enough now that you could see the faint gleam of amusement in his eyes, the calculated precision behind every movement. “Tell me,” he said, almost gently. “What is it you think you know about me?”

“I don’t—”

“Lying won’t help you here,” he interrupted, his voice still maddeningly calm. “Do you know how many people have tried to lie to me in moments like this? Do you know what happened to them?”

Your stomach twisted violently, but you kept your head high, refusing to meet his gaze. “If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with.”

A soft chuckle escaped him then, low and rich, the sound sending chills down your spine. “Kill you?” he echoed, as if the idea were absurd. “No, my dear, I’m not going to kill you.”

You didn’t believe him. You couldn’t.

“I’m going to understand you,” he said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “And you’re going to understand me.”

You shook your head, finally looking up at him, anger breaking through the fear. “I don’t want to understand you.”

“But you already do, don’t you?” he countered, stepping closer still, until there was barely a breath of space between you. “That’s why you’ve been running. Because you’ve seen the truth, and it terrifies you.”

Your back pressed harder into the wall as he leaned in, his voice a whisper now, threading itself into your thoughts like a toxin. “You know what I am,” he said, his breath warm against your ear. “And yet, here you are. Cornered. Trapped. Just like you knew you would be.”

A shiver ran through you, your body betraying you in ways you couldn’t control. You hated him for it—for the way he seemed to strip you bare with nothing more than his words, his presence.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you said, though the tremor in your voice betrayed you.

“No?” He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, as though testing the weight of your words. “Then why is your heart racing?”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry, every muscle in your body screaming at you to run, though you knew it would be useless. “Because you’re a monster,” you said, forcing the words out before fear could steal them away.

He smiled at that, a slow, unsettling curve of his lips that sent a fresh wave of dread crashing over you. “Perhaps,” he said. “But then... what does that make you? The one who can’t seem to stay away, no matter how hard they try?”

His words struck deeper than you wanted to admit, because somewhere in the darkest corners of your mind, you knew he was right. Despite the fear, the revulsion, there was something about him that had drawn you in from the beginning, something you couldn’t quite explain.

He leaned in again, his lips barely brushing against your ear as he spoke. “You’re not as different from me as you’d like to believe,” he said softly, his voice like a blade slipping between your ribs. “And that’s why you’ll never truly escape.”

He pulled back then, just enough to meet your eyes again. The tension in the air was suffocating, the weight of his gaze holding you in place even as every instinct screamed at you to run.

“Tell me,” he said, his tone calm, almost tender now. “Do you want me to let you go?”

The question hung between you like a noose, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. Did you? Could you walk away now, knowing he’d always be there, watching, waiting?

He smiled again, as though he already knew your answer. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured.

And with that, he stepped back, leaving the space between you empty but no less suffocating. “You can go,” he said, gesturing toward the door. “But know this: I will always be watching. And I will always find you.”

You didn’t move. Couldn’t.

Because deep down, you knew—he already had.

The next moment was filled with the sound of shattered porcelain. Your hand trembled with effort as you threw the vase, hoping to gain at least a second. But he dodged with unsettling grace, as if this moment had been predicted by him beforehand. You rushed toward the bathroom, intending to lock yourself inside, but he was faster. He was always faster.

Hannibal caught up with you before you could take a step. His movements were lightning-fast, yet eerily calm. Your attempt to break free was futile—his fingers closed around your hand as if he were not a man, but a steel trap.

"More reasonable than I expected," his voice sounded deceptively soft, almost lazy, but beneath that calmness was an underlying threat. "But... your actions are too predictable. Too predictable, even."

His fingers rose to your chin, gently turning you to face him. There was neither anger nor haste in his eyes—only cold calculation. He pressed closer, his body looming over yours, pushing you step by step. You barely realized how you ended up on the bed, his hands enclosing around you with a precision that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You know, this is becoming boring," he said, his smile barely noticeable. It was almost imperceptible, but it made you want to freeze in place. His fingers slid across your clothing, slowly, as if giving you time to process each movement, but never leaving you a choice.

"Did you really think I wouldn’t understand?" His voice cut through the silence, sounding more like a reproach, but without any irritation. It was more of a statement of fact.

His lips brushed against your neck, leaving a burning mark, as if to claim you. The coldness of his skin seemed to seep into your very heart, but the touch left an almost painful heat behind.

"You’re trying to appear ordinary." He fell silent, but his eyes kept speaking. "So I’d lose interest. It’s almost clever. Almost."

Your eyes widened, words froze on your lips, which, it turned out, were no longer your own. He knew. He knew everything. All the doors were closed, the windows surely locked, and your attempts to escape seemed so pointless that even your body seemed to surrender.

"Before you ask anything," he continued, leaning even closer to you, so that you could feel his breath on your skin, "I’ll tell you, I’ve known everything for a long time."

His voice was low, but every note carried an impeccable certainty, as if he were speaking not to a person, but to a book whose pages had long been read.

"Do you remember that banquet?" His lips barely touched yours, but he didn’t kiss you—he only let you feel his proximity. "I decided then that I wouldn’t surround you with my presence. I wanted to see what you would do."

He smiled a little wider, his eyes becoming dangerously warm, like a predator toying with its prey.

"And you gave yourself away. For a moment. Your smile, arrogant, as if you knew something no one else knew. The way you held your champagne glass, how you crossed your arms, how you allowed yourself to speak. It was almost amusing, because all of it was just a mask. But I understood everything."

His fingers tightened around your waist, making you flinch. He brushed his nose against your neck, inhaling your scent. The gesture was almost tender, but you felt cornered.

"I hadn’t thought about it before, but..." He paused, as if letting the silence say the rest. "You’ve trapped me. Emotionally."

He stopped, waiting for each of your movements, each of your glances, as if enjoying your reaction.

"But in the end," his voice lowered, "the victory is still mine."

When his lips covered yours, you understood that resistance no longer made sense. Your attempts to break free were shattered, just as you were. In that moment, you realized that your body, your thoughts—no longer belonged to you. You had been caught.

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Bde who has a really strong praise kink and gets turned on from it......

A/N: I've combined this request and one for soft dom reader with Elvis together into this story. Thanks for both! Also I love praise kink so I am weaaaaak for writing him like this. I went for 77 BDE for this one.

Good boy

Pairing: BDE x Older soft dom!Reader

Word count: 1.9K

TWs: Age gap (reader is 15 years older than Elvis), praise kink, use of mama in a sexual context, angst, Elvis cries, smut.

You’re almost a little nervous tonight, though you’re not sure why. It’s not as if he’s going to see you, let alone pick you out of everyone in the crowd. He doesn’t know you’re here, how could he? You’d be surprised if he even remembered you, it’s been so long since you last saw one another. And in the meantime you’ve moved to Charlotte, which is where he’s playing the final date of his tour. You’ve seen a lot about him in the press, read a lot of unkind comments and looked at a lot of unflattering photos. He certainly looks different to the young man you met in Memphis, full of boyish enthusiasm, with his floppy hair and puppy dog eyes. But you look different too. You were in your mid-thirties then, and obviously you’re much older now. Life has been relatively kind, though you’re divorced and you never had any kids, you’ve kept your figure and your hair has greyed in streaks that almost make you look distinguished. Your best friend told you that you should dye it, women of your age dye their hair she’d said, but you don’t care. You’ve never been one for doing what women of your age are supposed to, or you’d never have dated a man 15 years your junior. And you wouldn’t be at a rock concert now. 

When you eventually find your seat you’re much nearer the front that you’d imagined, and when he comes out in a beautiful white jumpsuit with what looks like feathers embroidered on it you audibly gasp. From the moment the music starts and he starts to move you’re captivated, memories of your time together flooding back to you just watching those hips. During Love Me you watch women elbow their way to the stage for scarves and kisses, and suddenly your legs seem to be taking you out of your seat too. You don’t expect to get to the stage in time, or for him to see you, you’re just acting on impulse. It feels a little like he’s hypnotised you, and you don’t have any choice in the matter.

And then he sees you. To begin with, he just sees an attractive older lady, well put together, waves of dark brown hair streaked with white. But as he bends down to ask if you want a scarf or a kiss, there’s something familiar in your face, and he thinks he must’ve met you before. 

“Have we met, honey?” He asks, wrapping a scarf around your neck and using it to pull you towards him, since you’d been too stunned to answer his first question. 

Your brain eventually kicks into gear. “We’ve done more than that,” you whisper, letting him kiss you gently. 

“Is that so?” He’s still trying to place you, his brain is slower nowadays and he’s tired. So tired. But he keeps you there, in the hopes he’ll remember or you’ll tell him. 

“You were my good boy, back in Memphis.”

Elvis is relieved he’d kept the mic far away from you both when he hears those words. He’s hit by such a powerful wave of memory it almost knocks him onto his ass. He blinks rapidly and then stares right into your eyes and you see that he remembers you. He whispers your name softly, and you nod. 

“Don’t go anywhere after,” he says quickly, seeing the sea of women gathering around you. “Someone will get you.”

You spend the rest of the show in a daze, thinking about his lips, the way he looked at you, the words he whispered like a plea. Don’t go.

***

You don’t go and someone does come and get you, and then you’re jammed in the backseat of the car between Elvis and one of his goons. The journey is mercifully short, and he holds your hand the whole time, a little smile playing on his lips. You’re relieved when he takes you into his suite and dismisses everyone else. Standing there in the middle of the room, still in his jumpsuit and belt, he looks both beautiful and incredibly tired. He looks down at you and sighs softly. 

“I-I can’t believe it’s you.”

“I can’t believe you remembered me.”

“Are ya kiddin’? ‘Course I do.”

You smile at one another as you keep standing there, taking one another in. After a few moments you decide to take control. 

“Why don’t you get comfortable? Take those clothes off, have a shower.”

He hums and fiddles slightly with his sleeve. “Ummm, mama…”

Your smile grows at the pet name. “Go on, I’ll sit with you in the bathroom.”

His breath catches in his throat thinking about you seeing him the way he is now. “Ah… I…”

“You want to be a good boy for me?” You ask, your hand on his face as you look into his eyes.

For the first time in a while, Little Elvis stirs at your words. “Yes, mama,” he whispers. 

“Off you go then.”

He nods and walks slowly over to the bathroom. You set the water going and check the temperature, and then sit on the side of the bath as he undresses awkwardly. 

“Your show was so good,” you coo, and he looks up. 

“Really?”

“Mmm yes. And you looked so good in that suit.” 

He lets the jumpsuit fall to the floor and you catch a quick glimpse of his semi-erect dick in his little white stage pants before he obscures them with his hands. He blushes as he asks you if you really thought that. 

Standing up, you put your arms around his neck, tugging his head down so you can whisper in his ear. “Yes, and you look good enough to eat right now too.”

His adorable, bashful smile lights up his face and he kisses you quickly, impulsively. You feel blood rushing between your legs and you smile back at him again. “And if you’re good you can have everything you want.”

He barely suppresses a little moan at those words. Doing what you told him to was one of his favourite things, when he was young and just getting famous. The way you told him how good he was filled him with warmth. He bathed in your praise, all your affirming words and gentle touches, and right now it feels like it’s exactly what he needs, after this long and gruelling tour. Stepping into the perfectly warm shower, he sighs as he washes away the grime of the performance. He finds himself in your arms on the bed, cocooned in just a robe as your nails scratch his sideburns, digging in and making him almost purr. You’re wearing one of his pyjama tops, it’s long on you but you’ve taken your panties off and he knows your bare pussy is under there. He looks at your long legs on either side of him. 

“Mama, you’re so beautiful.”

You kiss his temple as you blush a little at the compliment. You’re not immune to praise either, even though it’s his thing. Knowing he still wants you after all this time is a little dizzying, knowing your age doesn’t matter to him, the time that’s passed since you last saw one another doesn’t matter either. 

You’d discovered his love of praise almost straight away. He was so young and eager to please, and you taught him how to please you in a thousand different ways. An enthusiastic learner, he loved you instructing him, moving his head and then telling him when he’d hit the perfect spot. And the way you spoke to him afterwards. That was probably his favourite part. He would get so hard just from licking you out and you telling him he was a good boy that sometimes he’d cum before you even touched him. 

“Thank you, baby. You wanna make mama feel good?”

He nods quickly, almost scrambling to turn around to face you. You giggle, and the sound makes you feel like a young woman again. Instructing him to lie on his belly, you carefully lift the top up, exposing yourself for him. He groans at the sight of you. He’s seen a lot of pussies by now, but he could still have remembered every inch of yours without looking, he’s mapped it out with his tongue so many times. He crawls closer and his big hands spread your thighs, open-mouthed kisses trailing down the insides of them, just the way you used to like. 

“Yes, baby. I love your kisses.”

He keeps kissing, between your legs now, making you moan. His thumbs spread your lips as he dives in, making out with your pussy like he used to make out with girls when he was young. 

“Oh. That tongue feels so good.”

His hard-on presses against the bed as he keeps going, tongue dipping inside you, nose nudging your clit. 

“Yes, baby!” 

Pleasure buzzes in your veins as he carries on, worshipping you and tasting you. You need a lot to get turned on these days, but he brings back so many memories that you can feel yourself giving in to it. Bathing in the feeling, enjoying the journey. 

Once he thinks he’s got you good and wet, he moves his attention to your clit and slides a long finger inside. 

“Oh!”

“Is it good, mama?” He mumbles against you. 

“So good, baby. Oh you’re so good for me. Fuck. You’re gonna make me cum so hard baby. All over your gorgeous face.”

Another finger slides in beside the first, and he curls them to hit the spot he remembers inside you as he continues to work your clit with his tongue. The way you’re talking to him is driving him crazy, his hips are rutting into the bed just like they used to. 

“Oh fuck… yes…” 

You grab his head, pulling his hair a little as you push him onto your clit harder, feeling yourself teeter on the edge of oblivion. And then you’re moaning, and everything disappears in a blinding flash of light as your orgasm slams into your body. 

He licks you through it, trying to still his hips and stay patient. Waiting for you to tell him he’s done a good job. 

“Oh, my good boy,” you sigh, desperately pulling him towards you. 

You rearrange so his back is against your chest again, your hand on his belly as your eyes close and you savour your dizzying high. 

“Am I still good for you, mama?” 

You slowly reopen your eyes and look down at him, his blue eyes brimming with tears. 

“So good, baby. Best I’ve ever had.”

He turns his head as he closes his eyes again and a tear escapes down his cheek. Your heart aches for him. You don’t have to ask to know that he’s tired, that this wasn’t the life he thought he’d have, that he's just fulfilling obligations now. 

“You want mama to make you cum, baby?”

“Yes please,” he whispers, eyes still closed. 

Reaching down, your hand snakes around him. His breath hitches at the feeling, and he moans the moment you start to move slowly, up and down. 

“You’re so perfect. So gorgeous. So sexy. So good at making me feel good. I love everything about you, baby.”

You tell him all that and more, softly into his ear as your hand works him. Another tear sneaks down his cheek as you touch him and praise him, the feeling in his chest overwhelming. When he finally cums he calls out your name, and more tears spill from his eyes. 

“I love you, mama,” he whispers. 

Wrapping him tightly in your body, you kiss his face. “I love you too, baby. I’m glad we found each other again.”

***

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley @dkayfixates @iloveelvisss @kxnnxy @presleyhearted @lvrdollep @nebulamorada @iloveelvis2

[honeypiehotchner]

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

More lore! Work and life have kept me busy busy busy but trust I am still here for this fic and will be finishing it! (Also if you can't tell I started writing this fic after I first watched the Seaver episodes and thought I can write this so much better and with so much more angst)

Warnings: Rossi being Rossi, Hotch doing something he really shouldn't be doing but he thinks it's justified and maybe it is so who's to say if he's in the wrong!

You first knew something was different about your dad when you were ten.

There were the usual, obvious things that confused you as a kid. Like when he’d go away for long stretches of time, only to return like nothing had happened and act like he was never gone at all. Or when he’d return with these extravagant gifts, as if that made up for the birthday party he missed, or the big recital. Or when you heard your parents arguing, your mom tearfully asking if there was someone else, and screaming “I don’t believe you!” when your dad insisted there was no one.

There are the less obvious things that confuse you now, things you look back on when you want to analyze his behavior. Why he traveled so far to find his victims, why he tried to live a double life, why he did any of it at all. You dip your hands into the memories day after day and each time you come up empty handed. Why did he let you get kidnapped, only to help them find you? Was he ever behind your kidnapping at all? You don’t know. You’ll never know.

Even if you could ask him, you don’t know that you would. Your mom picked you up, changed your name, and moved you away for a reason. She gave you a fresh start. She’s the reason you are where you are, and you’re not going to throw that away. 

You had no idea Rossi worked on your father’s case all those years ago. You knew the BAU had gotten involved briefly at one point, but not who. 

What are the odds and what kind of bad luck streak do you have to have to be working with one of the investigators who helped catch your father?

The ceiling offers you no answers. You left the precinct as quickly as you could, wanting to take a hot shower and crawl in bed and pretend to be asleep when Hotch or Rossi inevitably knocks on your door later.

Rossi knows. He must. Why else would he look at you like that? And if he does, how long has he known? Has he told Hotch? Would he tell Hotch, or would he keep it quiet? Does he know that part of your file is sealed? Does he know you discussed it with Strauss, keeping that part of your life sealed because it isn’t relevant, not after all the work you did to create a separate life?

You’re going to make yourself sick if you keep asking this many questions, but how are you supposed to stop? 

You’ve worked too hard to create a life completely separate from your father to let it all unravel like this. You knew it was risky going into this line of work, let alone the BAU, but with a name change and two decades worth of distance, you thought it was deep enough in the past. You thought you had buried it far enough below the surface.

You cannot afford to have it haunt you like this, to interfere with your work so badly that you flee. You have to figure this out. And you have to get yourself under control.

+++

Hotch and Rossi are, like most nights, the last two at the precinct, trying to squeeze out some final leads before calling it a night. They don’t get far, and it’s Rossi who caves, saying they should get some rest for once. Hotch is quicker than usual to agree.

“What was that about earlier? About The Strangler?” Hotch asks. “Since you worked it, do you think we have a copycat on our hands?” 

It’s a poor excuse for a subject change, and Rossi is onto him in a second.

He shakes his head. “No, we don’t.”

Hotch grabs his cup and heads for the door. “And…Y/N? She seemed shaken up.”

Rossi raises an eyebrow, changing the subject slightly. “You two seemed to be getting along today.”

Hotch lets out a laugh as they exit the precinct. “We’ll be back to our usual selves tomorrow, probably, don’t worry.”

“I hope not,” Rossi says, rounding the car to hop in the passenger side. “You’re the only people who like to hear you two bickering, you know.”

Hotch rolls his eyes, sticking the keys in the ignition. “I don’t like arguing with her. She just insists on it.”

“And you push her buttons.”

“I don’t try to.”

Rossi only smiles to himself, always happy to rile Hotch up in whatever way he can, especially when it comes to you. It’s too easy to do it.

Rossi is able to convince Hotch to head back to the hotel, but not to grab a drink at the bar.

“I think I’m just gonna head to bed,” Hotch says, pausing outside the elevator. “You should too.”

“I will,” Rossi smirks, though he turns toward the bar anyway, nodding to Hotch as he presses the up arrow for the elevator.

Rounding the corner, Rossi finds a familiar face perched on a bar stool, nursing a glass of red wine.

He watches you briefly, gauging whether you’d like to be left alone. He can’t tell. He decides to slide onto the stool next to you, waving the bartender down to order two fingers of whiskey.

You won’t look at him. You won’t look anywhere other than your wine, but you knew Rossi and Hotch had come back. You could hear Hotch’s voice from the lobby, your body tense as you prepared for them both to make their way here and see you not at all asleep like you said you’d be.

You meant to sleep. But your mind was wide awake, and before you knew it, you were dragging yourself downstairs for a glass of wine, hoping the alcohol would tire you out.

And now, apparently, the price you’ll pay is a conversation with Rossi.

Seeing as he’s here alone, you figure there’s no sense in hiding behind cryptic sentences and silence. Better to rip the band-aid off now, while no one else is around.

“How long have you known?” you ask, studying the stem of your glass instead of looking him in the eye.

The bartender sets Rossi’s whiskey down in front of him. Rossi nods to him, and hands a black card over. “Another glass of red for her, please. On me.”

You swirl the remaining swallow of wine in your glass before downing it. The bartender replaces it with a silent smile before leaving you both alone.

Rossi takes a sip of his whiskey, studying the array of liqueurs along the wall across from him. “Do you remember meeting me?”

It’s not an answer to your question and it confuses you. “Yeah? You told me ‘good luck’ with Hotch because I was late.”

“No,” Rossi shakes his head with a fond smile, turning his head to look at you. “You were young.”

You wrack your brain, trying to remember when you might’ve met him. You come up empty, but you’re not surprised that you don’t remember. Your memories are hazy at best from those times, but the few you do remember are vivid. Just none of them include David Rossi.

“It was brief,” Rossi says, taking your silence for the answer it is. “After we had found you, and we needed to talk to your mom about some of what your dad admitted to while we had him in custody while we searched for you.”

That day comes back to you in fits and starts, flashes here and there. A much younger David Rossi floats into your mind, but with no words to accompany him, except—

“Didn’t you offer me a cup of coffee?”

He laughs quietly. “I did. I was trying to lighten the mood.”

“It worked,” you say, remembering with a smile. You pause. “So you’ve known the whole time?”

He shakes his head. “I thought I recognized you the first day, but I ignored it. It wasn’t until tonight that it clicked all together. You are twenty years older, you know.”

“Hey,” you feign hurt, punching him lightly in the arm. “You too, old man.”

“Don’t remind me,” he chuckles, taking another sip of his whiskey. “Have you told Hotch?”

You practically snort into your wine glass. “God, no.” You pause to take a long sip, needing it to steel your nerves. “Only Strauss knows, because she saw my background check before I asked to have some of it sealed. My father and original name were part of what I decided to have redacted.” You take a deep breath. “My mom moved us away and changed our last names for a reason. A fresh start. A new life without being haunted by what my father did.”

Rossi nods slowly. “Well you’ve got everyone suspicious after how you acted earlier.”

You grimace. “I know.” Not your finest moment.

“Why not get it over with and tell everyone?” Rossi asks. “Or at least Hotch?”

You roll your eyes. “He’ll look at me differently.”

“Will he?” Rossi argues gently. “How do you know?”

You give Rossi a look. “Because I know him.” 

Rossi hums. He doesn’t need to say anything to prompt you to continue.

“He already hates that I’m here — as if working with him is any better — and I’m sure he’s looking for any reason he can to tell Strauss to get rid of me,” you scoff. “The last thing I need is him saying I’m unfit for the job just because I’m a little shaken up at a random mention of the man who nearly killed me and my mother.”

Rossi goes still beside you, turning his head slowly.

You sigh, finishing off your second glass of wine. “You’re telling me none of you suspected he had tried anything with my mom and me?”

Rossi shakes his head. “We were never told otherwise, and your mom—”

“Yeah, well,” you shrug. “She loved him.”

Rossi frowns at your dismissal, resting his hand on the bar, but not touching you. “No one will fault you if you need time.”

“I’ve had two decades of time, Rossi,” you cry, placing your forehead in your hand. “I thought that was long enough.”

This time, he does reach for you, resting a hand gently on your shoulder. He’s never seen you this broken up, not even when you were thirteen, after they found you, when they all expected you to be upset. You were put together back then, your brain having not had any time to process it all. Now, you’ve had the time to process, you’ve lived your life in between, and it still haunts you. Because it always will. Because these things don’t just go away, no matter how badly you want them to.

“It’ll always be hard,” Rossi says. “I’m sorry I can’t say it goes away.”

You snort, burying your face further into your hand. “I wish it would. He’s dead, I wish he’d stop following me around.”

“You couldn’t have chosen a different career?” Rossi teases, shaking your shoulder a bit before letting go.

It does make you laugh, because he’s right. “I know. What was I thinking?” Your mother tried talking you out of it, but you never listened. She eventually came around to the idea after she heard you talk about how much you loved helping people, but it always worried her somewhat.

“I have no idea,” Rossi says, smiling around his whiskey as he finishes it off. “I’m having another, would you like one?”

You shake your head, sitting up. “No, no…I should actually go to bed now, I think, but thank you. For the wine and the uh, conversation.”

“Anytime,” Rossi says, squeezing your shoulder one more time. “Get some rest.”

“You too,” you give him a pointed look, eyeing the new whiskey the bartender sets down.

“I’ll sleep good after this,” he picks up the glass, raising it toward you.

You roll your eyes as you head back toward the elevator, strangely feeling lighter — and not because of the alcohol. You’ll begrudgingly admit, talking it out with Rossi helped.

But that doesn’t mean talking to Hotch about it will have the same effect.

+++

Back in his hotel room, Hotch takes a shower and crawls into bed. He tosses and turns for an hour, staring a hole into his eyelids. He gets up to take a walk around the room, hoping it’ll help. All it does is make him pause when he spots his briefcase, knowing what lies inside.

The files he asked Garcia to pull weren’t unusual. Just your background check, with one condition. To unseal whatever was hidden. 

Because he had thought it was odd for you to have parts of it sealed, let alone that Strauss agreed to let you. But it wasn’t something he particularly wanted to argue with Strauss about. 

After seeing you stop breathing entirely at the mention of The Strangler — an obscure case, one truly infamous only to Reid and his eidetic memory — Hotch is worried. That’s the only name he can think of to give the feeling swarming in his chest.

He’s worried about one of his agents, and dammit, he feels like that is a justifiable enough reason to do some digging. If it concerns the well-being of one of the agents he oversees, he wouldn’t forgive himself if he didn’t try to get to the bottom of it. Even if they seem hellbent on keeping it hidden.

That’s all the convincing he needs to do for himself before he walks over and snatches his briefcase off the desk, opening it with a click. 

Your file lies right where he left it, along with Penelope’s sticky note. Her gel writing makes him pause.

Should he be reading this?

What’s his alternative, though? Asking you outright? That will only start a fight, or worse, you’ll quit on the spot. You’ve made it clear that you don’t want to tell him what’s going on, and if he pushes too far, you’re both liable to say things you can’t take back.

This is better. It’s going behind your back, but it’s better. Is it really betraying your trust if it’s clear you don’t trust him? You don’t even like him, which you have made abundantly clear. 

You seemed to open up a little to him today, but that doesn’t mean tomorrow you won’t be right back to the way you were yesterday. There’s no way to know for sure.

So, Hotch stops the back and forth, and pulls the file out, flipping to the second page. Then the third. Then to what was sealed.

The words jump out at him too fast for him to understand them, his heart thundering in his ears as he reads.

Your name — the one he knows you by — is not what you were born with. Well, your first name is, but your middle and surname are changed entirely. Your original surname was Adkins.

Adkins. Like—

His eyes scan further, finding the inevitable on your birth certificate. Your father. Carson Adkins.

You were fourteen when your names changed. Fourteen when you moved to Washington state. Fourteen when your mother changed her surname, too, back to her maiden name — the one you now have. Fourteen when your life started over.

Because when you were thirteen, Carson Adkins, The Strangler, threatened to end it.

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

No easy job||Peter Sutherland x fem!reader

Summary— Peter swore up and down he’d never join the secret service but here he is as the body guard of the presidents daughter who loves to keep Peter on his toes .

Word count—644

Peter Sutherland prided himself on being calm under pressure. It was practically a job requirement. Whether it was racing against the clock to prevent a terrorist attack or navigating the bureaucratic chaos of Washington, D.C., he always kept a cool head.

Until now.

“Do you always ignore every rule ever written, or am I just lucky?” Peter asked, his voice taut as he followed Y/N into the crowd of gala attendees.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder, smirking. “Rules are more like guidelines. You’ll get used to it.”

Peter exhaled sharply, gripping the earpiece in his hand before shoving it back into his ear. “I’m not supposed to get used to you wandering off without telling me.”

“I’m not wandering off. I’m mingling. Big difference,” she replied, plucking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. The glint of the chandelier above reflected in her glass as she tilted it toward him in mock cheers. “Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? Someone spills a drink on me?”

Peter scanned the room, his sharp eyes catching a suspicious figure lingering near the exit. The man adjusted his jacket, and Peter’s stomach tightened. He was already running through the possibilities—exit routes, potential threats, fallback plans. “The worst that could happen is someone targets you because your father is the president, and I’m left explaining why I let you stroll into danger like it’s a weekend hobby.”

She paused, turning to face him fully. Her expression softened just a fraction, though there was still a flicker of defiance in her gaze. “Peter, relax. I’ve done this a hundred times. No one’s going to target me in the middle of a charity gala. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Peter shot back, stepping closer. The faint buzz of conversation and laughter around them felt miles away. “You don’t get to be fine. You get to be safe. That’s the deal.”

Her smirk returned, this time tinged with challenge. “You’re kind of intense, you know that? Has anyone ever told you to loosen up?”

“Has anyone ever told you that ignoring protocol is a terrible idea?”

“Constantly.” She raised her glass again, but her fingers tightened around the stem. “Didn’t stick.”

Peter’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he said nothing, his eyes locked on hers. She had that maddening ability to act like nothing could touch her, like the world wasn’t full of people willing to exploit her trust and bravery. It wasn’t just frustrating—it was terrifying.

“You think I don’t see it?” he said finally, his voice softer but no less firm. “The way you brush everything off like it doesn’t matter? But it does, Y/N. You might think you’re invincible, but—”

“—I’m not,” she interrupted, her tone unusually serious. Her eyes flicked down, then back to his. “I know that, Peter. But I also can’t live my life hiding behind Secret Service agents every second of the day. It’s not who I am.”

Peter ran a hand through his hair, searching for the right words. Something about her recklessness struck too close to home—someone else he’d failed to protect, someone else who didn’t listen. He couldn’t let that happen again. “I’m not asking you to hide. I’m asking you to let me do my job without feeling like I need a defibrillator on standby every time you step into a room.”

Her lips twitched, the smirk threatening to return. “Are you saying I stress you out?”

“Yes,” he deadpanned.

She laughed, and the sound pulled a reluctant smile from him before it faded. “Good. Keeps you on your toes,” she said with a wink, and before he could reply, she slipped into the crowd again, disappearing like a shadow.

Peter groaned, pulling his earpiece into place. He scanned the room quickly, noting that the suspicious man near the exit had shifted positions again, and his unease grew. Protecting Y/N was going to be the death of him—he was sure of it.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Guardian Trickster

Gabriel & Winchester sister!reader (platonic)

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: set during season 5, (but probably doesn’t follow complete canon because I have a bad memory) Gabriel helps you out after you run away from your brothers.

You were screwed, and you didn’t even care.

You knew that there were two main scenarios that could play out: you would get away with running away, and you’d be out on your own with very little money and very little chance of making it on your own, or one of your brothers would find you, and you’d be dead.

But you didn’t know which brother it would be, and that was why you didn’t care.

Sam and Dean had decided that the world would be somehow better off if they split up, and they had tried to make you choose between them. Rather than pick one, you decided to screw them both over and take off as an act of defiance. You wanted them to know just what you thought of the split, and this was the only way they would listen.

“Hey there, kiddo.” A voice from beside you startled you, and you jumped up off the bus stop bench you’d been sitting on. The man had blond hair and a crooked smile, and he’d appeared out of nowhere.

“Who are you?” You demanded, stepping back slowly.

“Don’t worry.” The man lifted his hands in a sign of surrender, his smile widening—but the smile didn’t reach his eyes, and it only made you more afraid. “I’m here to help.”

“I-I don’t need help,” you said, your voice quavering.

“Yes you do.” The man stood, his giant frame towering over you. “Remember those big bad angels who want big brother Dean to say yes to Michael?”

“How do you—“

“They’re coming. They think if they catch you, then Dean will say yes to them.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Dean would say yes if the angels got you—you were almost sure of it.

“Who are you?” You repeated. “Why do you care?”

“Oh, I’m batting for the other team,” he said.

“Yo-you’re a demon?” Your voice squeaked. You tried to back away, but you’d worked yourself into the corner of the bus shelter you’d been sitting under.

“No no, of course not.” The man’s voice had softened, but you took no comfort in the change.

“But-but you work for Lucifer,” you argued, shrinking into yourself as if it would get you farther from the thing in front of you.

“Wrong again, kiddo. Just relax, I’m really not as bad as you think.”

“But if you’re against Michael…and you’re not a demon…” your brain worked a mile a minute as you kept your eyes on the stranger. “You…you’re Lucifer.”

The smile stretched even wider on the face, almost grotesquely. The blue eyes flashed suddenly red, and you whimpered without meaning to.

“Bingo! See, that wasn’t so hard, right?”

“What do you want?” You’d wanted to sound demanding, but your voice couldn’t go above a whisper.

“Well, like I said, I wanna help you. Let’s get you out of here before those angels come, yeah?”

“Why—why would I go anywhere with you?”

Lucifer’s shoulders sagged as he huffed.

“I just told you, I’m trying to help here.”

“You want something.”

“Alright, fine,” he relented. “I’m just gonna take you to your big bro Sammy, ok? That’s it.”

“Why?”

Lucifer huffed again, glancing around like he was afraid the angels would appear anywhere any second.

“Look, kid, I wanna get on Sammy’s good side, ok? I think saving his little sis from angels is the best way to go about that. Just come with me, and it’ll all be ok.”

“You want to do exactly what Michael does,” you argued, your voice growing stronger. “You want to exchange me for a yes from Sam.”

“No no no, of course not! I’m not Michael, kid, I’m not gonna make your brother say yes. I just want to help him.”

“I don’t believe you.” You stepped to the side, trying to work your way out of the corner, but Lucifer stepped with you.

“You don’t have to,” he said. “You just have to stand still.” He reached a hand out for you, and there was nowhere for you to back away.

“No, no—“

Lucifer was yanked out of sight so quickly that you had to wonder if he’d even been there. In his place was a different archangel—one you recognized as much friendlier.

“Gabriel?” You whimpered. “What—“

“No time, Lucy’s gonna be pissed about that, and Michael’s goons can’t be far away.” Gabriel echoed Lucifer’s stance, reaching his hand out and grabbing onto your arm. The world spun around you as Gabriel teleported. You were on a different street corner before you could blink, and you stumbled on unsteady feet before Gabriel tightened his hold on you to steady you.

“Hey, easy—angel travel can be pretty fast, I know.”

“Where are we?” You shivered in the much-colder air.

“Well, we’re about 200 yards from Sammy right about now.”

“What?” You looked around and spotted a motel just down the street.

“Yeah. I woulda taken you to Dean, but he’s busy with Zachariah right now—now calm down, he’s fine,” Gabriel said when you turned to him in a panic. “Zach sent him into the future to try to convince him to let Michael in. He sent some goons after you as a backup plan in case his plan didn’t work.”

“The future?” You rubbed your head. “Why are angels so complicated?”

“Trust me, I’ve been asking myself that for thousands of years,” Gabriel scoffed. “But don’t worry, Dean can take care of himself. But I really think you should go back to Sam right now.”

“Why did you save me?” Your voice was still shaky as you looked up at the archangel. “I thought you didn’t want to go anywhere near Lucifer.”

“Oh don’t get me wrong, I want nothing to do with the whole Mikey/Lucy feud,” Gabriel assured you. “But I don’t trust my brother around my favorite Winchester, so I stepped in.”

“So what, you’re my guardian angel?” You quipped, a tiny smile twitching at your lips.

“Maybe,” Gabriel shrugged, “but I prefer trickster.”

“Fine then, guardian trickster.”

“Exactamundo,” Gabriel confirmed. “This fight is my brothers’ business, but I won’t let anybody hurt you.” Gabriel’s tone was more serious than you’d ever heard it. “So yeah, I’m your guardian trickster, ok? But I’ve got places to be, so I really want you to go back to your big brother.”

You looked from the archangel to the motel that had your brother in it.

“I think I can do that,” you decided.

“Good.” Gabriel tapped under your chin, and you looked up at him. “Chin up, kid. Things will get better. You’ll have both your brothers back in no time, promise.”

You couldn’t think of anything else to say, so instead you jumped forward and wrapped your arms around Gabriel.

“Yeah yeah, ok.” Gabriel chuckled, his arms tightening around you for a quick second before he pulled away. “Now get out of here, kid.”

You stepped back, turning on your heel and starting for the motel. You didn’t get halfway there before you glanced back one last time to get a look at your savior of the night.

He was already gone, but you still felt safer than you had in a long time.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810 @tell-elle

[warping-realities]

Alright, folks, I promised a break but the images for this story were almost all ready. The main idea came from a request from @innermostthoughtsartappreciation . Hope you’re into it! Oh, and there’s a little surprise at the end for those who’ve checked out my other stuff. Now, I’m really gonna take that promised break (I think? But I still have a couple of videos to turn into written stories, so who knows???).

Desire is the Devil’s Dwelling

Andrew sat in the front row of the classroom, a place he chose not only because he found the subject of the lecture extremely interesting, but also to get a privileged view of the man who was teaching it. Professor Dr. Williams spoke in a nearly hypnotic manner about the importance of cultural diversity in contemporary literature. His words were eloquent, and Andrew truly wanted to pay attention to what the man was saying, but in reality, his speech became a distant backdrop. What really mattered were the defined muscles that stood out under the professor's tight shirt and the way he smiled, as if each laugh was a promise of something unattainable.

Andrew’s thoughts floated between admiration and guilt. How could he feel this way? In his mind, the image of his family and hometown overlapped with Dr. Williams’s figure. He remembered family talks about morality and values, the disapproving looks he’d get if anyone knew about his feelings. The weight of those expectations seemed to grow heavier every day as his internal struggle intensified.

As the professor continued discussing how literature can reflect society, Andrew wondered if he’d ever be honest with himself. He wished he had the courage to present himself as he truly was, but the fear of disdain and rejection still kept him trapped in a life of secrets that felt like a weight on his chest. The class went on, but Andrew barely noticed time passing. He jotted down a few quotes here and there, but most of his notes turned into doodles and sketches depicting the professor in different scenarios. Dr. Williams, with his captivating confidence, became an inspiring muse for Andrew, who would give anything to express his own truths without fear and captivate everyone like the professor did.

When class finally ended, Andrew hesitated to stand up. He watched the professor walk away, chatting animatedly with other students. A sudden impulse made him want to approach, but he quickly pulled back. With a deep sigh, he grabbed his backpack and headed for the exit, his mind still dominated by conflicting thoughts.

On his way home, his heart raced at the thought of possibilities. What would happen if he allowed himself to be who he really was? What if, for just a moment, he could set aside expectation and pressure? These questions echoed in his mind as the city blurred around him.

Andrew opened the door to the apartment and was greeted by a wave of comfort and familiarity. The smell of home-cooked food filled his nostrils, and he smiled upon seeing Lucas, his roommate and best friend, sitting on the couch. Lucas was skinny and pale, with messy brownish honey hair and bright eyes that sparkled with an almost hypnotic intensity. From day one in college, they had formed an instant connection, and even though Andrew hid his deep feelings for Lucas, their friendship flourished.

“Hey, Andrew! How was class?” Lucas asked with genuine interest. The way he spoke always made Andrew’s heart race, and he felt a mix of joy and anguish at the same time.

“It was good, interesting, you know how Dr. Williams is,” Andrew replied, trying to keep the conversation light. He sat down next to his friend, but to hum the tension in the air was palpable, even though Lucas didn’t seem to share that feeling. On the contrary, he was sitting closer than usual, and his presence made Andrew feel like the space between them was charged with unspoken meanings.

As they chatted about class and other trivial matters, Andrew couldn’t help but steal glances at Lucas’s hands. It was as if every gesture was an invitation, a subtle touch that could open the doors to something more. When Lucas accidentally brushed against Andrew’s leg while leaning to grab the remote, a shiver ran down Andrew’s spine. He looked at Lucas, and for a brief moment, he felt there might be something there, something that could be more than friendship.

But fear quickly set in. What did he really know about Lucas's feelings? What if he was just projecting his own hopes onto an innocent moment? His heart raced, and the courage he felt moments before drained away. With a sudden impulse, he averted his gaze and said, “Sorry, I... need to use the bathroom.”

He stood up hastily, trying to hide the flush on his cheeks. As he walked toward the bathroom, his mind spun in a whirlwind of confusion and repressed desire. He locked himself in the small space and pressed his palms against the edges of the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The image he saw was of a young man torn apart, consumed by a desire he didn’t dare to name.

“Why is it so hard?” he murmured to himself, his voice echoing in the empty bathroom. Andrew knew he needed to open up, but the idea of being rejected by Lucas was unbearable. What if revealing his feelings broke their friendship? The thought was agonizing. Sighing and composing himself, he made his way back to the living area, pausing to look at his friend’s back, wishing he could be like Dr. Williams, a man who carried himself with confidence and who knew how to command the space around him, and maybe then he could live the way he truly desired.

The problem with desires is that you never know who might be listening.

….

Lucas watched Andrew walk away, feeling a pang of worry. He knew those moments when his friend shut down, diving into his own thoughts all too well. The truth was, Lucas was also grappling with his own feelings, and what haunted him the most was knowing that behind Andrew's facade of confidence, there was a young man feeling trapped between his convictions and the burning desire growing inside him.

“Why can’t you see what’s right in front of you?” Lucas thought as he sat on the edge of the couch, staring at the remote in his hands but unable to focus on the channel options. The idea that Andrew might like him back in the same way he liked Andrew was a thought that wouldn’t let him rest. Lucas knew there was something special between them, but the fear of ruining their friendship kept them distant. He wondered how he could make Andrew realize that feelings like theirs weren’t wrong, that there was space for love and acceptance between them.

Lost in his thoughts, a knock on the door made him jump off the couch. The knock was firm but not too loud, and for a moment, Lucas wondered if it could be someone bringing good news or something completely unexpected. Andrew, hearing the sound, said he would answer, and Lucas seized the opportunity to try to push his dilemmas aside.

In the silence that followed, he tried to focus on the TV, but an overwhelming sense of unease took over him. Why was Andrew taking so long? What could be happening? He looked at the door and saw his friend standing there, staring at what seemed to be emptiness.

“Andrew, is everything alright? Who was it?”

“Yeah, just the new neighbor wanting to introduce himself,” Andrew replied without turning around. Something felt off in his voice, and Lucas decided to get up to check, but just then, the remote control shocked him in his hand.

“Ouch!” he exclaimed at same time as he heard the door slam. Shaking his hand, he stood up and looked towards the kitchen, only to find Andrew taking a drink straight from the bottle. He couldn’t help but admire his friend’s lean, muscular body, his dark skin reflecting the soft light of the room. Andrew was wearing just shorts, and Lucas felt a mix of excitement and confusion at the sight before him.

“Why are you staring at me?” Andrew asked, breaking the silence.

“I... I wasn’t staring at you,” Lucas replied quickly, trying to look away. “I was just... wondering if you’ve been hitting the gym. You look different.”

Andrew smiled, a smile that lit up his face and made Lucas feel butterflies in his stomach. “Well, of course! I’m focused on gaining mass. Every rep counts.”

Lucas forced a smile, but the conversation was starting to feel stranger than he’d like. “Oh, cool. But... do you want to watch something on TV? We could chill for a bit before bed.”

“No, actually, I’ve missed my bedtime. It’s during sleep that muscles grow,” Andrew replied, with that confident demeanor he always had. He turned and walked toward his room, his stride confident and almost casual, but Lucas couldn’t help but notice how distant he seemed.

“Wait,” Lucas called, his voice a bit weaker than he intended. “Just... is everything okay? You seem off.”

Andrew paused for a moment, looking back. His gaze was intense and full of restraint. “What would be wrong, dude?” he replied with a smile before entering the room and shutting the door, leaving a thoughtful Lucas staring at the TV screen without really seeing what was in front of him.

….

The next morning, the sun’s rays filtered through the curtains, and Lucas woke up with the feeling that something was different. He stretched and quickly realized he urgently needed to use the bathroom. Getting up from bed, he walked through the house toward the bathroom, still groggy and with his mind filled with confused thoughts about the night before.

When he opened the bathroom door, Lucas froze. Andrew was there, standing in front of the mirror, recording a video for his followers. The soft light reflected off his muscular body, which was almost on display, and his captivating smile lit up the space. He seemed completely at ease, as if he were on stage, and Lucas couldn’t help but admire the confidence radiating from his friend.

However, Andrew didn’t seem too happy when he noticed Lucas’s presence. “Hey! You can’t just walk in like that, man!” he exclaimed, clearly irritated as he turned off the camera. “I’m trying to film here!”

Apologies started spilling from Lucas’s mouth in a whirlwind. “Sorry! I didn’t know you were recording. I just... needed to use the bathroom.” He felt his face heat up, a mix of embarrassment and confusion.

Andrew took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. “It’s fine. Just give me a heads-up next time, okay? I don’t want to be interrupted in the middle of a recording.”

As Lucas stepped back, his thoughts began to swirl. He looked at Andrew, who was now adjusting the camera again. “He's so muscular... Has he always been like this?” Lucas questioned himself, as he felt a bit guilty for interrupting his friend. “Of course, he’s always been like this. Nobody changes overnight.” He thought as he watched his friend record a new video.

After their brief and tense interaction in the bathroom, Lucas took a quick shower and decided to sit at the table for breakfast. When he arrived in the kitchen, he found Andrew already sitting there, an enormous amount of food in front of him. The plate was piled high with scrambled eggs, grilled chicken breast, and a generous portion of oatmeal. Lucas watched, a bit impressed, as Andrew methodically stacked food on his plate.

“Are you really gonna eat all that?” Lucas asked, trying to break the ice while serving himself a bit of cereal.

“Of course. I need to make sure I’m hitting my macros. Every meal counts,” Andrew replied, focused on his food. “You know, and protein is essential for gaining mass.” He looked at Lucas, who just nodded, not really knowing much about the topic.

The conversation didn’t seem to flow well. Lucas talked about the latest news from a game he’d played, while Andrew seemed more interested in his workout routine and diet. The connection that once felt so natural now seemed strange and distant. Lucas realized that despite being friends for so long, their lives were taking different paths.

“Don’t you ever get tired of just thinking about workouts and food?” Lucas asked, trying to understand what was going through Andrew’s mind.

“It’s not just that. It’s a passion, a lifestyle. You must get that, right? Everyone has their priorities,” Andrew replied, his expression serious. “And I don’t have time for distractions.”

Lucas felt a tightness in his chest. He looked at Andrew, who seemed so focused on his food, and wondered why he felt that mix of longing and frustration. “Sure, everyone has their priorities,” Lucas murmured, trying not to let his disappointment show.

When Andrew finished eating, he quickly stood up, grabbing his backpack and getting ready to leave. “I gotta go, I have a workout now. We’ll talk later, alright?” He said, not waiting for a response, and rushed out.

Lucas was left alone in the kitchen, staring at Andrew’s empty plate. A feeling of loss washed over him. He questioned what was happening between them. Why did it affect him so much? Their relationship had always been like this. What had changed now? Why care now?

He leaned against the table, lost in thought. “Why do I feel like there’s something different?” Lucas asked himself, looking out the window. The sun was shining bright, but his mind was shrouded in clouds.

With his thoughts still swirling, Lucas decided it was time to head to college. He threw on a game t-shirt he loved and some worn jeans, trying to feel more comfortable. On the way, he couldn’t shake off thoughts of Andrew, how their relationship seemed to have changed in a way he didn’t understand. Classes started, but Lucas’s focus was nowhere to be found. He could barely pay attention to the professor’s lecture on programming, a subject that used to fascinate him. His thoughts kept drifting back to his friend, to what had happened that morning and the frustration he felt.

During a break, Lucas sat alone in a corner of the cafeteria, distracted, scrolling through his phone. He opened Instagram and began to browse through Andrew’s profile, searching for any clues that could explain the change. The photos were always vibrant and energetic, showing his friend in intense workouts, posing with other athletes, and even some images from events he had attended. Everything seemed just as he remembered. Andrew’s bright smile, the confidence radiating from every picture... But there was something Lucas couldn’t pinpoint, something that left him uneasy.

He spent the day like that, scrolling through social media but finding no concrete answers. The clock ticked on, and when afternoon finally rolled around, Lucas decided to take a look at Andrew's Stories. His heart raced when he saw there was a new update. Andrew appeared with a cap over his wet hair, his muscular body on display, and a smile that seemed radiant. He held a protein shake while talking about the benefits of post-workout nutrition. Drops of sweat trickled down his sculpted muscles, and that dazzling smile seemed like an invitation to get lost in that incredibly fit body. But everything flashed through Lucas's mind without registering because this time, something was really wrong, and he was sure of it—he had just seen picture after picture of Andrew and knew that something impossible had happened: he looked like he had aged at least ten years. Even though his face was cheerful and youthful, it was undeniable that this couldn’t be a 21-year-old man.

Lucas tried to rationalize it; maybe it wasn’t Andrew but rather someone else. Quickly returning to the Instagram feed, he got a second shock—all the photos he had seen earlier looked exactly the same, with just one difference: the Andrew of 21, with toned muscles, had been replaced by this man with larger muscles in his late twenties or early thirties. Lucas left campus with his mind in a frenzy, each step toward the apartment feeling heavier than the last. What the hell was happening to Andrew?

Upon entering the house, Lucas took a deep breath and headed straight for Andrew’s room, determined to confront him. He knocked on the door, feeling his heart race. “Andrew, we need to talk!” he shouted, anxiety bleeding into his voice.

After a few seconds of silence, the door opened slightly, and Lucas found Andrew lying on the bed, phone in hand, completely oblivious to his friend’s presence. He barely lifted his eyes. “What’s up? I’m busy,” Andrew said, distraction evident in his dismissive tone.

Lucas hesitated but knew he had to be firm. “Don’t you see that something’s wrong? You… you’ve changed, Andrew. It’s like you aged overnight and… I think there’s more to it than that!” Frustration erupted in his voice as he moved closer to the bed, trying to grab his friend’s attention.

Andrew let out a sarcastic laugh. “What kind of nonsense is this?”

“I’m serious; I’m worried!”

“Didn’t know you cared so much about me. I thought a nerd like you only cared about games and coding.” He shook his head as if he found the situation amusing.

“That’s not it! Look, I’m not saying you can’t work out or take care of yourself, but you’re different.” Lucas felt anger mixed with sadness, and his words came out more intense. “What’s going on with you?”

Andrew finally lifted his eyes, but the expression he wore wasn’t one of concern; it was disdain. “I don’t have time for your nonsense, Lucas. I’m focused on my life, on things that actually matter. And you should do the same instead of wasting time here.” He turned away, completely ignoring Lucas’s insistence.

“Andrew, please!” Lucas said, his voice almost pleading. “I just want to understand. What’s happening?”

Andrew suddenly stood up, his imposing posture making Lucas take a step back. “Look, kid. I never thought living with someone younger would be a problem. But if you keep acting like this, one of us is gonna have to move out. Got it? Now get lost. I have a date soon, and I don’t have time for crazy talk.” He slammed the door in Lucas’s face, leaving him alone in the hallway, pain and confusion consuming him.

Lucas leaned against the wall, feeling a wave of despair. The nagging voice in his head tried to convince him that everything was fine, that he was just overreacting. But he knew it wasn’t just that. Something was very wrong, and he couldn’t just ignore it. He was going to do something… He… He felt the world spin around him before everything went dark as his consciousness slipped away.

…..

Lucas woke up to sunlight filtering through the curtains in his room. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled his nose, but there was something unsettling in the air. He rubbed his eyes and tried to recall how he got to bed the night before. The last memory he had was a heated argument with Andre, his roommate. Lucas had always admired and desired Andre, an attractive and charismatic personal trainer, but he’d never had the courage to admit it.

He slowly got up, feeling a bit dizzy, and walked toward the living room. He paused at the door, hesitating. What if Andre was there? He shook his head, brushing off the confusing thoughts, and decided it was time to face the situation.

When he opened the living room door, a chill in his stomach made him stop. Andre was there, deep in thought, looking out the window. The sea stretched before him, its waves dancing under the sunlight. Lucas frowned. “This has always been the view from the apartment, right?” he thought to himself. Of course. The view doesn’t change just like that.

“Hey,” Andre said, pulling his gaze from the horizon. He looked surprised but also a bit lost. “Sorry, I’m just in my underwear. I... went to get a glass of water and got distracted by the view.”

Lucas swallowed hard, trying to ignore the image of Andre in minimal clothing. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice a bit louder than he intended.

Andre smiled, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be, kid?”

Something in his tone made Lucas’s heart race. He knew there was something wrong, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. They weren’t friends, just two strangers sharing a space. Lucas felt foolish for worrying. “Right,” he murmured, forcing a smile.

“I’m running late,” Andrew said, turning back to the bedroom. “I’ll get dressed.”

As Andre disappeared down the hallway, Lucas approached the window, sitting on the couch. The sea was beautiful, but his mind was elsewhere. He wondered what could be happening. Why had he and Andre fought? He couldn’t remember. The silence in the room was palpable, and Lucas found himself wishing they could be more than just roommates.

“Hey, Lucas!” Andrew called from the bedroom, interrupting his thoughts. “Have you seen my black sneakers? The ones I like?”

“Uh, no. Maybe they’re on the balcony,” Lucas replied, trying to hide the worry in his voice. They didn’t have a balcony, did they?

“Thanks! I’ll check.”

Lucas stood there, gazing at the sea. The beauty of the moment contrasted sharply with the growing unease inside him. They were just strangers sharing the same roof, but the connection he felt was undeniable. What if the argument had been more than just words? What if something was really wrong?

When Andre returned, dressed, Lucas decided he needed to ask. “Andre, are you sure everything’s okay? I... feel like something isn’t right.”

Andre hesitated, his expression shifting for a brief moment. “Kid, look, thanks for worrying about me, I really appreciate it, but just stop, please. I’m fine. Try living your life, and I’ll live mine!” replied the muscular black man as he walked out of the apartment.

Lucas left the house, still feeling restless. The walk to campus felt longer than usual, and with each step, he felt the weight of thoughts about Andre pressing down on him. He sat in his chair in the classroom but couldn’t focus on the professor’s explanations. The only thing filling his mind was the image of Andre looking out at the sea, his enigmatic smile, and the tension that lingered between them.

After a few hours of class, he decided he needed a distraction. He grabbed his phone and, without thinking too much, opened Instagram. Andre’s photos popped up on the screen, one after another. They varied; in some, he was in a workout session, showing off impressive muscles, and in others, he was smiling next to friends at parties or the beach. Lucas felt a chill in his stomach as he saw all this, as if he were reliving moments he hadn’t experienced. The sensation of déjà vu washed over him, like he had seen those images before, but he couldn’t remember when or where.

He spent more time than he wanted scrolling through the feed, analyzing every photo and video, trying to figure out what was wrong. As if some hidden truth was buried in those pixels. But after hours of browsing, frustration took over. It didn’t make any sense. He was just fooling himself. He gave up and closed the app, convincing himself that his mind was just creating fantasies.

On the way back home, still with his head full of confusion, something caught his eye. An ad on Instagram for a gym. He stopped, eyes glued to the image. The gym was called "Elite Fitness," and right below was a video of a personal trainer known as DeAndre Williams. The guy flaunting his stuff in the video was a jacked bodybuilder, muscles bulging and a confident grin. But something didn’t add up. Lucas furrowed his brow. "No way… it can’t be… but it is! That dude is Andre. How is this possible? This guy’s at least five years older than him!" he thought, adrenaline pumping through him.

Then the déjà vu hit him hard. He had been through this before! He was sure of it. A wave of panic and confusion washed over him. Without thinking twice, he started running, feet pounding against the ground as his heart raced. Each step took him back to the apartment, determined to confront Andre and find out the truth. What was going on? He needed to know. The run felt endless, but anxiety pushed him on. The image of DeAndre Williams wouldn’t leave his mind; he was Andre, but how?

When he reached the apartment, Lucas stopped in front of the door, breathless. He hesitated for a moment, his mind swirling with questions. But the need for answers outweighed any fear. What would he find inside?

Lucas took a deep breath and opened the apartment door, his heart pounding. He felt a mix of fear and anticipation as he walked toward André's room. The living room was quiet, and the soft afternoon light streamed through the windows, creating an almost dreamlike atmosphere. Each step seemed to echo in his mind, and he couldn’t shake the thoughts of what he might encounter.

Arriving at the bedroom door, Lucas hesitated. With a surge of courage, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

To his surprise, DeAndre Williams was lying on the bed, naked, his muscular body exposed to the soft light. His dark, shiny skin glistened, and a well-groomed goatee accentuated his striking features.

He looked at Lucas with a curious expression. "Who are you? And how’d you get in here?" DeAndre asked, his deep, confident voice echoing in the room.

Lucas felt his heart race at that familiar tone. "Andre? Is that you?" He hesitated but decided to take a shot. "What’s going on? You need to explain this!"

DeAndre propped himself up on his elbows, watching Lucas with an amused look. "Only friends call me Andre," he replied, a smirk playing on his lips. "And you, kid, are not my friend. I don’t know how you got into my place, but you gotta leave."

"No, no, wait!" Lucas exclaimed, feeling frustration bubble up inside him. "We share this apartment! You can’t just forget that!"

DeAndre laughed, and Lucas realized the man’s expression was a mix of amusement and disdain. “Share an apartment with a kid like you? Never,” he said, shaking his head arrogantly. "If you don’t bounce now, I’ll throw you out myself."

Panic surged in Lucas’s chest. He tried to argue, but the words failed to express what he felt. "Please, you need to remember me! I… I care about you!" His voice was almost pleading, but DeAndre just looked at him with disinterest.

"I don’t have time for your nonsense," DeAndre replied, his expression growing impatient. "You need to leave. Now."

Lucas's heart raced. He felt dizzy, like he was in a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. "Andrew..." he started, but the word barely left his mouth before everything around him began to spin. The room seemed to drift away, and he felt his legs give out beneath him. The sensation of falling overwhelmed him, and Lucas lost the battle against the darkness, calling out Andrew’s name one last time before everything faded to black.

…..

Lucas woke up in a room he didn’t recognize. The walls were painted a neutral shade, and the decor was minimalist, almost impersonal. He sat up on the bed, confusion flooding his mind. Soft morning light streamed through the window, but everything felt surreal. He was wearing baggy sweatpants and an oversized white shirt that didn’t seem to belong to him.

Getting up, Lucas hesitantly walked around the space. He wanted to understand where he was and how he had ended up here. Stepping out of the bedroom, he found a hallway adorned with pictures of DeAndre, the bodybuilder who had once been his roommate, Andre, and before that… Andrew! How could he have forgotten? How?

Each image showcased DeAndre at bodybuilding events, and Lucas noticed that in some of them, he looked years older than he remembered. The strength and confidence radiating from the photos were undeniable, but there was something unsettling about how time appeared to have affected the man who had once been his friend.

As Lucas moved down the hallway, his heart raced with a mix of fear and curiosity. He felt like he was in a place that belonged to someone else, a space totally disconnected from the life he knew. With every step, the opulence of the house became more apparent. The polished wooden floors gleamed in the sunlight, and the luxurious details on the walls spoke of wealth and success.

Finally, he reached the living room, a spacious and elegant area with black leather sofas and glass tables. And there he saw him. DeAndre was sprawled on the sofa, clad only in black underwear, his massive, muscular body reflecting the light. His ebony skin seemed to shimmer, and his physique was impressive, with well-defined engorged muscles that spoke of years of dedication to training. He had a commanding presence, an aura of power that made it clear he was the king of this space.

But DeAndre wasn’t alone. In a nearby armchair sat a muscular man, though not quite up to DeAndre’s level, completely relaxed and sprawled out. Lucas had the distinct impression that this guy was indeed the king of this new world. The man had bronzed skin and a well-groomed beard that shaped his attractive face. His eyes were a honey color, but in the brief moments Lucas held his gaze, they seemed to shift to yellow, like a cat's or a hawk's, giving him a sly and playful expression.

"Look who finally decided to join us," he said, his voice smooth and teasing. "Our persistent young friend. I wonder what we should do with him, DeAndre?"

Lucas’s heart raced at those words. The tension in the air was palpable, and he felt paralyzed, his mind spinning with questions. What was happening? Why was he here? And what were DeAndre and this stranger planning?

DeAndre lifted his head, a satisfied expression on his face. "Ah, the kid's awake," he said, his deep, authoritative voice filling the room. "I was wondering when you’d finally join us."

Lucas, finally recalling who this man was, felt a weight in his chest hearing that voice so distant from Andrew’s. But the worst part was the look of total domination DeAndre shot him, hitting him with a wave of panic. "What do you want from me?" he asked, his voice coming out louder than he intended.

The honey-eyed man leaned forward, a playful smile on his face. "DeAndre here just wants to move on, and you’re in the way. And as for me? I want nothing you can’t give, my young friend. I just want you to understand what it means to be part of this world, since you’ve tried so hard to stay in it." His expression was provocative, and Lucas didn’t know whether to feel intrigued or threatened. “It’s time for you to discover what happens to those who dare to enter my circle uninvited, especially those who insist on staying even when they’re not welcome. But first, let’s have a little chat about power, control, and the nature of desires."

He then leaned in closer, his eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and disdain. "You can call me Alastair," he said, his voice smooth and melodic. "And you, my young friend, are in a place where I’ve long decided who comes in and who goes out. I’ve been around longer than you can imagine, and occasionally, I like to have a little fun." He paused, watching Lucas as he tried to process his words.

"I was around when the little, pale, bland Andrew wished to become someone like Professor Williams," Alastair continued, a mischievous smile creeping onto his lips. "And, of course, I had the pleasure of making that wish come true. But why do it without a bit of fun, right?" He chuckled softly, as if reminiscing about a private joke.

Lucas felt a chill run down his spine. "You... you were the one who did this?" he asked, disbelief evident in his voice.

"Oh, my dear, you don’t understand. What I did was simply give Andrew what he wished for, a transformation that would make him everything he ever wanted to be. What I didn’t count on was your persistence." Alastair raised an eyebrow, his tone growing more serious. "You should have been taken out of the equation early on, so I could enjoy Andrew’s transformation into DeAndre. But you insisted, and that frustrated me."

Anger welled up inside Lucas. "Andrew is still in there, at least a small part of him," he said, his voice steady. "You may have changed his appearance, but the essence of who he is still exists."

Alastair laughed, but there was no joy in his laughter. "You really think that 'essence' is strong enough to resist what I’ve done? What you see before you is the result of your own insistence. I had to push him to the limit to erase you from within him. But now I've finally succeeded. DeAndre is everything Andrew wished to be, and more. You should feel honored to have been part of that process."

Lucas felt his determination grow. "Andrew didn’t ask for this; he just wanted to be accepted."

"Ah, acceptance is easier when you’re a massive, successful behemoth. Andrew didn’t know what he truly wanted until I showed him. And now you’re here, trying to prevent him from living the life I gave him," Alastair said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Lucas took a deep breath, trying to regain control. "You may have changed Andrew, but you can’t change who he is inside. And I will find him."

Alastair tilted his head, a sardonic smile on his face. "What a fighting spirit you have, kid. But that won’t change the fact that I’m in control here. And to be honest, you’re not in a position to challenge me."

DeAndre, who had remained silent until then, finally rose from the sofa, his imposing figure casting a shadow over Lucas. "Lucas," he said, his voice deep and resonant. "You need to understand. You may want me to be the boy you knew, but Andrew doesn’t exist anymore. To the rest of the world, including myself, he never existed."

Lucas looked at DeAndre, feeling a mix of pain and hope. "But you’re still him; part of him is still there. I know you can hear this. Please, don’t let this take you away."

Alastair stepped forward, his dominating presence filling the room. "Enough, kid! You have no idea what you’re dealing with. If you keep interfering, I’ll have to take measures to ensure you’re no longer a problem."

The tension in the air was palpable, and Lucas knew he had to be careful. "I won’t give up, Alastair. Andrew is still in there, and I’ll find him. No matter what you do." Then something astonishing happened. As if the threads of reality were unraveling, the corner of the opulent living room of DeAndre transformed into the simple sofa of the old apartment they had shared.

"What do you think you're doing, kid? You better stop that right now and shut that mouth of yours!" Alastair said, his eyes gleaming with a malice that made it clear he wasn’t joking. "Because I’m sure I can find a way to make you quiet for good. Let’s see what I have to work with," the man declared. Suddenly, Lucas found himself only in his underwear, standing before him. A wave of fear washed over him, but along with it came a renewed determination. "I won’t be quiet. I will fight for Andrew. I… I love Andrew… I’ve loved him for years, and I should have told him that a long time ago." The young man said, looking at the massive figure that had once been his friend. To his surprise, and even more to Alastair's shock, DeAndre responded with a voice much softer than seemed possible.

"I… I love you too…" Upon hearing that, Lucas smiled, and the old reality seemed to strengthen beside him.

"You think you’re playing with some idiot? I’ll turn you into a little manwhore, always chasing after some dude, never satisfied, and you, DeAndre, will use him and toss him aside," Alastair sneered, raising his finger. In that instant, Lucas contorted in pain. What Alastair apparently didn’t expect was that the same would happen to DeAndre. The hawk-like eyes widened in shock as he watched the bodybuilder writhe and murmur through the agony:

"I give up my wish, I give up…"

“Damn it, I just wanted to have a little fun. DeAndre, look at me; I’m not going to separate you two, but there’s no turning back now, the process has already begun. Look at me and tell me what you desire. I can make Lucas happy; I can make him happy by your side. Is that what you want?”

“Yes… I… I want Lucas… I want us to be happy.”

“Great, but it’s still going to hurt. That bastard got on my nerves too much to deserve a smooth transition. Now witness.”

Lucas stood silently in the corner, the last remnant of his reality amidst the opulent living room, appearing fragile in just his white underwear. Suddenly, a strange sensation began coursing through his limbs, as if his muscles were being stretched and twisted.

A searing pain engulfed his body, making him writhe involuntarily. His arms, once thin and undefined, began to swell, veins bulging against his skin as the muscles contracted and grew. His biceps and triceps bulged, giving him a powerful and intimidating appearance.

Agony spread through his chest, and Lucas felt his ribcage expand, the ribs becoming more pronounced as his chest hardened and defined. His pecs jutted out forcefully, creating an imposing and masculine silhouette. He gasped, struggling against the pain that seemed to consume every cell of his being.

Meanwhile, Alastair watched the transformation with delight, alongside a horrified DeAndre. In his state of agony, Lucas was oblivious to what the other two could see—his skin appeared to age rapidly. Wrinkles and spots began to form, and his once-fine blonde hair darkened and thickened. A dense beard sprouted on his face, framing his increasingly angular and mature features. As this happened, the reality of the opulent room reshaped around him, erasing all traces of the apartment and the life that Andrew and he had shared.

Finally, Lucas flexed his arms, marveling at the strength flowing through his limbs. The veins stood out on his skin, pulsating with his growing power. His expression, once soft and delicate, was now hard and determined, reflecting the radical change in his appearance. Concluding the transformation, he raised one of his powerful arms, showcasing his biceps and triceps in all their glory, a satisfied smile forming on his lips. And so he stood, watched by the perpetrators of this situation—one accidental and the other who relished every moment of what he had done.

Alastair observed Lucas’s transformation with a satisfied smile. Each second, the young man became stronger, more imposing, and he knew the final result would be a spectacle of power that few could ignore. He turned to DeAndre, who stood there, stunned but also in awe.

“Look here, DeAndre,” Alastair said, his voice smooth and teasing. “This is Louis Caron, a naturalized American Frenchman and the husband who has deeply loved you for 15 years. Soon, all of this will make sense in your minds. Until then, Louis, why don’t you come stay with your husband?”

Louis looked at DeAndre with a smile that reflected a deep connection, a camaraderie that went beyond words. He walked towards DeAndre, his steps firm and confident, his posture erect and his gaze determined. And even amidst the horror of everything that had transpired, DeAndre couldn’t help but smile.

.....

On the sunny coast of California, the beach was alive with activity, the sound of waves gently crashing on the shore and the salty scent of the sea in the air. DeAndre was enjoying the refreshing ocean water. At 43, his muscular body was a testament to his dedication and hard work in the gym. The sunlight reflecting off his powerful, well-defined ebony muscles created a visual spectacle that drew admiring glances from passersby.

On the sand, his husband, Louis, was animatedly chatting with Alastair, a long-time friend of the couple. He gestured enthusiastically, mixing in French words, while Alastair, with his bronzed skin exposed and mischievous honey-colored eyes, listened to the other man with a playful smile.

"Alastair, you have to stay longer! Malik needs to meet you!" Louis exclaimed, his voice full of hope. Malik, DeAndre’s brother, a College Professor was a staunch advocate of his singlehood, but Louis believed Alastair could be the key to opening his heart.

Alastair raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "I thought Malik was straight. Isn’t he?"

Louis laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, he is! But I’m sure you’ll work your magie. You always do, you magnifique créature!”

As they chatted, DeAndre emerged from the sea, water cascading down his muscular body, and cast an intense gaze toward Louis and Alastair in the distance. The sun illuminated his powerful form, and Louis couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride as he looked at his husband.

"If Malik is as hot as DeAndre, maybe I’d be tempted to stick around and stir up some trouble," Alastair quipped, winking at Louis, who chuckled, imagining the encounter between the two men.

DeAndre approached, his muscles still glistening with seawater, and shot a curious glance at Louis and Alastair. "What are you two laughing about? Some inside joke I’m not aware of?" His voice was deep and captivating, and his smile was irresistible.

Alastair, with a mischievous grin on his lips, replied, "We’re just admiring the impressive sight before us." He gestured dramatically toward DeAndre, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "It’s hard not to get lost in a body like yours, isn’t it?"

Louis laughed and added, "Plus, Alastair was about to leave, and with him, we don’t know how long it’ll be until he’s back." He looked at Alastair with a playful expression. "So we need to make the most of his presence while we can."

DeAndre raised an eyebrow, a cheeky smile forming on his lips. "So, we need to do something about it?" He glanced from Alastair to Louis, a glint of malice in his eyes. "What do you guys have in mind?"

The two friends exchanged knowing looks, aware that the afternoon promised plenty of pleasure and fun. Alastair stepped forward, his dominating presence radiating confidence.

"I can think of a few devilish things."

…..

In a pulsating night in the heart of New York City, the lights of the Devil’s Den flickered in a frenetic rhythm, reflecting the vibrant energy that was about to emanate from within. Poncho, the oldest bartender there, with his piercing gaze and well-defined muscles, meticulously organized the bottles lined up behind the bar. His muscular arms told stories of an intense life, and he moved with the confidence of someone who knew he was in control.

The door swung open, and a man with Mediterranean or Middle Eastern features—hard to tell which—entered, exuding confidence. With dark hair and an enigmatic smile, he approached the bar. “A double shot of whiskey, neat,” he ordered, his voice laced with seductive charm. Poncho, on his way to the bar, turned around smiling upon hearing that voice. The boss was back.

Poncho went to the bar and grabbed the bottle of the best Scotch in the house. As he poured the drink, he couldn’t help but notice the aura surrounding him; he radiated power, like always when he had been up to something. “How was the trip, boss?” he asked, leaning in slightly to hear the response. The man took a sip and let out a low laugh. “Fun in an unexpected way. It’s not every day someone manages to come out on top against me.” He paused, his eyes glinting with a mix of satisfaction and frustration. “But true love is always a pain to deal with.”

Poncho nodded, not entirely understanding. This was a common occurrence between them. But soon, the tone of the conversation shifted. “But now that I’m back in my lair, I feel an immense urge to stir up something truly luxurious,” he said, a devilishly satisfied smile forming on his lips.

“Jerome is active and will send some groups for tonight,” Poncho informed, winking at the man. The mention of Jerome made the boss’s eyes shine even brighter. He knew the fun was about to begin.

The man smiled, his plans forming in his mind like dancing shadows under the lights of the Devil’s Den. “Perfect. The night is young and full of possibilities.” He raised his glass, toasting to the electrifying atmosphere that promised something beyond the boundaries of the human perception.

Poncho returned the smile sensing what was about to happen, the work at the Devil’s Den was like a symphony of laughter, secrets, and lust, and he loved every moment of it. Meanwhile, three reckless young men strolled toward an unexpected destination.

If you want to know where the night will lead, I suggest you click the link below.

[24hrsoda]

Do you think any of the bats fight ra’s and bring up Tim’s spleen like

Rando bat: -and you’re a creep for stealing Tim’s spleen like some sort of sick trophy!

ra’s: what

bat: d-did you forget you stole one of Tim’s organs??

ra’s: no I remember carving his spleen out of his body but I never kept it. bat: what

ra’s: i threw that shit away first chance I got what made you think I kept it??

Probably not, because Ra’s never took Tim’s spleen.

This is something entirely made up by fandom. Ra’s wasn’t even in the room when it happened.

Tim got stabbed in the gut in red robin #4 and his spleen was hit. It was damaged and needed to be removed (which he can 100% live without. no spleen means a slightly weaker immune system especially in the first couple of years, but things like vaccines and antibiotics mean you can defend urself against illness and be Fine, and you can live a totally normal and healthy life without a spleen)

There was also another person (can’t remember their name) who also lost an organ, and two more who died.

iirc it was White Ghost and a group of lesser assassins who did surgery on Tim (and the other person) tended to his wounds. Ra’s was not in the room and was only mentioned by name as White Ghost’s boss when White Ghsot introduced himself.

So if Tim were to tell the batfam that ra’s “took his spleen”….well, he’d be a liar 💀

Also, the whole spleen thing is just. Kinda weird. Idk why it became so popular, but people now assume that that’s what happened and often times it’s mentioned to whump Tim and have the family coddle him because “he gets sick so easily🥺🥺🥺” but some people so easily cross the line in to being kind of racist about how they describe Ra’s.

I won’t say Ra’s isn’t a villain or can’t be written as one but a lot of time with these posts seem to stray in to the territory of describing him similarly to barbaric stereotypes about brown men or describing him as some kind of mysterious witch or some thing.

[hansmic]

𝔞𝔩𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔥𝔞𝔩 𝔰𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔨𝔰 𝔥𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔶

ex!han jisung x gn! reader.

summary: when after weeks of being alone after losing you, your ex gets drunk and ends up confessing stop you would never think he would.

genre: fluff, angst, romance

warnings: mentions of drinking.

word count: 1.7k

a/n: hope you like this anon!

———————————————————————-

Han was already a little drunk, but the alcohol he kept drinking wasn’t helping him forget her. He was sitting on his kitchen floor, surrounded by empty bottles and photos of the two of them. Memories of their happier times together swam through his head like a broken record player.

He couldn’t help but miss her. The way she smiled, the way she laughed, the way she made him feel alive and loved. He missed the sound of her voice and the way her skin felt against his own. His chest ached with every memory, every thought. It was like a never-ending cycle of pain.

He knew that he probably shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. He took out his phone and dialed her number, his heart beating faster with each digit. He wasn’t sure if she’d even answer, but he was desperate to hear her voice again.

The phone rang once, twice, three times. With each ring, his heart sank a little more. He knew she wasn’t going to answer, but he couldn’t bring himself to hang up. He waited, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she’d pick up.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she answered. His stomach twisted with a mix of relief and anxiety. “Hey,” he managed to say, his voice hoarse from drinking.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice cool and distant. He felt a pang in his chest. She was so cold, so distant. He wanted to tell her how much he missed her, how sorry he was for everything that had happened between them, but the words got stuck in his throat.

"I just... I wanted to hear your voice," he said, his words slurring slightly. He could hear her sigh on the other end of the line. "You’re drunk, aren’t you?" she said, her tone sharp and disapproving.

He didn’t respond. He knew she was right, but he didn’t care. The alcohol numbed the pain, if only for a moment. He just wanted to hear her, to feel closer to her.

"You shouldn’t be calling me when you’re like this," you said, your voice softer now. There was a hint of sadness in your words. "You know it’s not healthy for either of us."

He closed his eyes, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. “I know,” he mumbled. “I know, but I can’t help it. I miss you so much.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

She hesitated, unsure of what to say. Seeing him in person was a terrible idea. But a small part of her was curious, wondering just how drunk he was and if he’d actually follow through.

"Fine," she said finally, her voice resigned. "If you miss me so much, come over."

He couldn’t believe his ears. Did she really just say that? He quickly scrambled to his feet, grabbing his keys and wallet. He was a little unsteady on his feet, but he was determined to get to you

He stumbled out of his apartment, the cool night air refreshing against his flushed face. He hailed a taxi and gave the driver your address. Sitting in the back of the car, his heart was pounding in his chest.

As he watched the city lights pass by outside the window, he tried to prepare himself for what he was about to do. He wasn’t sure if he should start with an apology or if he should just come clean about how he was feeling. He also wasn’t sure if he was ready to face the anger or disappointment that might be waiting for him on the other side of the door.

Jisung stumbled out of the taxi and approached your door. He knew he looked like a mess - his clothes rumpled, his hair sticking up in all directions and his eyes heavy with alcohol. And yet, he didn’t care. All he cared about was seeing you, being near you again.

Taking a deep breath, he lifted his hand and knocked on the door.

The sound of his hand against your door echoed in his ears, and he could hear his own heartbeat pounding like a drum. The seconds ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity.

Finally, he heard the sound of locks being undone and the door opened to reveal you, standing there in front of him

He couldn’t help but stare. You were just as beautiful as he remembered, maybe even more. His eyes roved over your face, taking in every detail - the curve of your lips, the way your hair fell across your forehead. He wanted to memorize every inch of you.

You eyed him cautiously, taking in his disheveled appearance and the smell of alcohol on his breath. You weren’t sure why you even let him come over in the first place. It probably wasn’t a smart decision.

Jisung cleared his throat, suddenly feeling sober and aware of his surroundings. “Can I come in?” he asked, his voice rough and gravelly.

You hesitated for a moment, eyeing him skeptically. But something in his tone - maybe the vulnerability, the desperation - made you soften. "Fine," you said, stepping aside and letting him in.

He entered the apartment, his eyes scanning over the familiar surroundings - the pictures on the walls, the artwork you had hung up, the couch you used to snuggle on while watching movies. It all felt so familiar and yet so far away at the same time.

You closed the door behind him and awkwardly led him to the living area. He sat down on the couch, his hands fidgeting in his lap. He wasn’t sure how to start the conversation. Luckily, you spoke up.

“So,” you said, folding your arms across your chest. “You wanted to talk, so talk.”

Jisung looked up at you, his eyes glossy and his face red. The alcohol was still coursing through his veins, making everything feel a little hazy and dreamlike. He took a deep, shaky breath before speaking. "I miss you," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "I miss you so much it hurts."

"I miss waking up next to you. I miss our stupid arguments and the way we would make up afterwards. I miss the way you laugh and the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking." He paused for a beat, his eyes filling with tears. "I miss how happy we used to be together."

He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to regain his composure. "I know I screwed up. I made mistakes, and I didn’t appreciate you the way I should have. But I swear, if you give me another chance, I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy. I’ll make you laugh, I’ll listen to you, and I’ll never take you for granted again."

He looked at you, his expression pleading. "Please," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please give me another chance. I can’t lose you. I can’t."

You were taken aback by his pleading. You weren’t expecting such a raw and emotional confession, especially from him in his current, intoxicated state.

For a moment, you were torn. On one hand, you still felt hurt and betrayed by what he had done. On the other hand, seeing him like this - vulnerable and desperate - tugged at your heart strings.

"Jisung," you said gently, "you’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying right now."

"No," he protested, shaking his head. "No, I know exactly what I’m saying. I mean it. I love you. I’ve always loved you."

His words hit you like a punch in the gut. You hadn’t heard him say “I love you” in so long, and now here he was, drunk and sloppy, declaring his love for you. It shouldn’t affect you, but it did.

He reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. "Please, don’t push me away," he said, his voice cracking. "We can make this work, I know we can. We just need to talk, to communicate. That was our problem, right? We didn’t talk enough."

It was hard to ignore the way your heart fluttered in your chest as he held your hand, his touch both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. You knew you should be strong, you knew you should push him away and tell him to leave. But something in his eyes made it impossible.

"We can’t just pick up where we left off," you said, your voice soft. "You hurt me, Han. You broke my trust."

"I know," he said, his head hung in shame. "I know, and I’m so sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me right now, but I just can’t stand the thought of never being with you again. I’m lost without you. I thought I could handle being apart, but I realize now that I need you more than I ever thought."

His fingers tightened around yours, his eyes pleading. "Just give me a chance to prove it to you. Let me show you that I can be the man you deserve. That I can be better."

You studied him for a moment, taking in his disheveled appearance, the vulnerability in his eyes, and the way he held onto your hand like a lifeline. It was impossible to deny the pull you felt towards him, even after everything that had happened.

Finally, you let out a sigh. "Okay," you said softly. "I’ll give you a chance."

His eyes lit up at your words, and a small, tentative smile curled at the corners of his mouth. "You will?" he asked, his voice filled with disbelief and hope.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Yeah," you said, feeling a mix of relief and trepidation. "But don’t think that means I’m just going to forgive and forget all the crap you put me through. You’re going to have to work for it."

A look of determination crossed his face, like a man on a mission. "I will," he said, his grip on your hand tightening once more. "I promise you, I will do whatever it takes to prove myself to you."

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masterlist is here!