#not the only thing hes blowing by the sounds of it.

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ shades of cool ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ hwang in-ho x player!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! there is also a part one to this imagine, playing dangerous, a part two, do you think you’d kill for me, one day? and a part three, ultraviolence.

˚ ���♡ you stirred, the weight of consciousness creeping back in like a slow, unwelcome sensation. the first thing you noticed was the pain, not sharp, but dull and ever-present, pulsing from your leg in as a painful remnant of what had happened. your eyes fluttered open, and the room before you swam into view, blurred and unfamiliar.

˚ ༘♡ soft, warm light illuminated the bedroom, the golden glow radiating off polished wood and gilded accents. the room was lavish beyond imagination. silk curtains hung in folds along the high windows, their rich, deep hue a stark contrast to the sterile white sheets covering you. the bed beneath you was impossibly soft, its headboard ornate and meticulously carved.

˚ ༘♡ it didn’t feel real.

˚ ༘♡ your gaze dropped to your leg, your breath hitching at the sight of thick, pristine bandages wrapped around your injured knee. the ache was dulled, numbed, and for a minute you thought it was a dream, until the frigid tug of an iv in your arm brought you fully into reality. clear tubing snaked its way from the crook of your elbow to a stand beside the bed, the consistent drip of fluid into your veins the only sound in the unnerving quiet.

˚ ༘♡ panic set in as you scanned the room for answers. sleek medical monitors blinked softly in the corner, their digital hum an eerie companion to the slow rhythm of your heartbeat displayed on the screen. the pure cleanliness of it all, no blood, no chaos, no grimy stairwells, was jarring.

˚ ༘♡ the door creaked open.

˚ ༘♡ your body tensed instantly, your hands gripping the sheets as you turned toward the sound. standing in the doorway was young-il, but something about him was different. he was dressed head to toe in onyx-black now, the sharp lines of his attire immaculate, his presence nearly unrecognizable.

˚ ༘♡ your breath caught in your throat as a sensation of horror surged through your body. you struggled to push yourself up, wincing as the motion sent a jolt of pain through your leg. “you bastard,” you spat, your voice hoarse and trembling with both fury and anguish. “what the hell is this? what did you do?”

˚ ༘♡ his expression was undisturbed, his face composed, as though he hadn’t betrayed you, shot you, and left you to bleed out. his voice was soft when he spoke, almost gentle. “you’re safe now.”

˚ ༘♡ safe? the word felt like an insult, a mockery of everything he had done. “safe?” you snapped, your voice rising despite the weakness in your body. “you shot me! you killed them! where are jung-bae and gi-hun? what happened to them?”

˚ ༘♡ he hesitated, the pause heavy with unspoken truths. “their fate… isn’t yours to worry about,” he said at last, his tone measured, deliberately vague. the non-answer only stoked the fire of your anger, your hands clenching into fists.

˚ ༘♡ “don’t give me that nonsense,” you grimaced. “tell me what happened to them!”

˚ ༘♡ his gaze softened, as if he pitied you. it made your stomach twist. “you’ll have your answers in time,” he said evenly. “but for now, there’s something more important you need to understand.”

˚ ༘♡ your chest heaved with ragged breaths as you glared at him, the venom in your gaze meeting his unnervingly tranquil demeanor. “and what’s that?”

˚ ༘♡ he stepped closer, his shadow stretching across the floor, enveloping you in its reach. “my name isn’t young-il,” he said, his voice steady but carrying an undertone that made your pallid skin crawl. “it’s hwang in-ho. i am the front man, the overseer of these games.”

˚ ༘♡ his words hit you as though it was a physical blow, the weight of their meaning sinking in too slowly, too horribly. your jaw slackened as confusion, revulsion, and fear collided within you. you shook your head, as if denying the truth could erase it.

˚ ༘♡ “no,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “no, that can’t be…”

˚ ༘♡ “it is,” he interrupted, his tone kind, almost soothing, as though he were breaking news to a child. “i know it’s a lot to process, but it’s the truth. everything you’ve been through, everything you’ve seen, it all leads back to me.”

˚ ༘♡ his serenity, his gentleness, only made it worse. you stared at him, horrified, unable to reconcile the man before you with the one who had saved your life, who had stood by your side, who you thought you could trust. your heart pounded in your chest, a desperate beating of denial as his revelation sent cracks through your already fragile world.

˚ ༘♡ you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, your mind frantically trying to stitch together some coherent explanation for what he was saying. every word felt like a jagged shard, cutting into what little remained of your trust. the man you thought you knew had unraveled into someone monstrous, someone you couldn’t even begin to understand.

˚ ༘♡ “you want answers,” he said quietly, moving to stand at the foot of the bed. his hands rested at his sides, his posture unnervingly relaxed. “then let me give them to you.”

˚ ༘♡ you didn’t reply, your throat too tight to push out words. the tremor in your hands betrayed the dread coursing through you, though you tried to mask it with a glare that had lost its edge.

˚ ༘♡ he let out a desolate breath, his gaze dropping briefly before returning to yours. “a long time ago, i was no different from you or any other contestant for these games. i was desperate, clinging to whatever hope i could find. my wife…” his voice caught, for a split second, but he quickly recovered, his expression hardening. “she was pregnant, but she was sick. we didn’t have the money for the treatments she needed. i tried everything, loans, work, begging. nothing was enough.”

˚ ༘♡ you felt a pang of unease, the words pulling at a part of you that didn’t want to empathize, didn’t want to understand.

˚ ༘♡ “when i heard about the games, i saw no other choice,” he continued. “i thought… if i could win, i could save her. i convinced myself it was worth it. the blood, the horror, it would all be justified if it meant saving her.” his eyes grew distant, as though he were watching memories play out before him, each one dragging him deeper into a place he didn’t want to go.

˚ ༘♡ “and you won,” you said bitterly, though your voice lacked strength. the image of him standing victorious in those games twisted your stomach, making you sick. “so why are you here? why are you doing this to other people?”

˚ ༘♡ his lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tightening. “i won,” he admitted, his tone heavy with something you couldn’t name. “despite my efforts, my win and the prize money came too late. she died, and so did the baby… our baby. nothing i had done mattered, not the lives i’d taken, not the suffering i endured. it was all for nothing.”

˚ ༘♡ the bitterness in his voice was unmistakable, but it was the coldness in his eyes that terrified you. it was as though the memory of that loss had hollowed him out, leaving behind only shards of the man he once was.

˚ ༘♡ “after she died,” he said, “i had nothing. no one. those behind the games saw that. they saw what i had become, angry, empty, ready to do whatever it took to escape the emptiness. they offered me purpose, a chance to rebuild myself in their ideology. and i took it.”

˚ ༘♡ his admission hung in the air, suffocating and heavy. you wanted to scream at him, to ask how he could justify becoming the very thing that destroyed him, but the words wouldn’t leave your lips.

˚ ༘♡ “and you…” his voice mellowed, and for the first time, his mask of stability cracked only slightly. “you remind me of her. not simply for how you look, but… the way you care. the way you fight, even when everything is against you. there’s a tender beauty in you that i haven’t seen in any soul for years.”

˚ ༘♡ his words sent a chill down your spine. notion idea that he saw any part of his late wife in you was unbearable. you stared at him, horrified, searching his face for any sign of deception, but all you saw was the unsettling truth of his sincerity.

˚ ༘♡ “don’t,” you whispered, your voice quivering with rage. “don’t you dare compare me to your dead wife. don’t you dare use her memory to excuse what you’ve done.”

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t flinch, though something appeared in his expression, regret, perhaps, or something deeper. “i’m not excusing it,” he said quietly. “i know what i’ve become. but it doesn’t change what i see.”

˚ ༘♡ you shook your head, tears threatening to spill as the weight of his words pressed down on you. the man standing before you wasn’t just a stranger, he was a nightmare, a ghost of the person he once was, and you couldn’t decide which was worse.

˚ ༘♡ you couldn’t reconcile the man before you with the one who had pulled you out of the fire so many times before. the one who had shielded you, consoled you when you were hurt, and risked his life to save yours. even as he revealed the truth, this sinister, unfathomable truth, a part of you couldn’t forget the way his hands had steadied you in instances of chaos or the way he had spoken to you with warmth when everything else had been so cold.

˚ ༘♡ yet that part of you, small as it was, waged a bitter war with your anger and disgust. you couldn’t ignore what he’d done, what he was. you had seen him kill without hesitation, betray without remorse. yet somehow, despite everything, the memory of his quiet acts of care gnawed at your resolve, complicating the clarity of your rage.

˚ ༘♡ “why?” you demanded, your voice cracking under the weight of everything. “why did you save me if you were just going to do this? why did you act like you cared?”

˚ ༘♡ his expression softened, and for a second, the cold, calculating overseer seemed to fade. in his place was the man who had once held your hand, who had spoken with a gentleness that felt so real you couldn’t dismiss it entirely. “because i do care,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. “more than you know.”

˚ ༘♡ you shook your head, tears threatening to spill. “you don’t get to say that,” you whispered, your voice quivering with misery and despair. “not after everything you’ve done. you don’t get to care.”

˚ ༘♡ he stepped closer, the weight of his presence filling the space between you. you wanted to recoil, to push him away, but your body betrayed you, frozen in place. “i know what i am,” he said softly, his tone stable yet tinged with something raw. “i know what i’ve done. but that doesn’t make what i feel for you any less real.”

˚ ༘♡ “don’t,” you murmured, though the word came out weak, your anger faltering under the intensity of his dark gaze. “don’t try to make this about me. you’re just trying to justify…”

˚ ༘♡ “i’m not,” he interrupted, his voice firm but quiet. “i’m not trying to justify anything. i… i couldn’t lose you.”

˚ ༘♡ the confession hung in the air, heavy and morose. you wanted to lash out, to shout at him, to tell him that his words didn’t change anything. but instead, you found yourself searching his face, looking for the lie, the manipulation. and you didn’t find it.

˚ ༘♡ you hated him, but you couldn’t deny that you had trusted him, even cared for him, before the truth came crashing down. those memories, tainted by what you knew now, lingered like ghosts, haunting you in ways you couldn’t escape.

˚ ༘♡ “you don’t get to feel that way about me,” you said, though your voice wavered, lacking the conviction you wanted it to carry.

˚ ༘♡ “i know,” he murmured, his gaze unwavering, his closeness almost unbearable. “but i do.”

˚ ༘♡ before you could think, before you could stop it, he leaned in. the world seemed to still as his face drew closer, his presence overwhelming. you hated him, you loathed him, but the confusion, the anger, the lingering warmth of the man you thought you knew muddled everything.

˚ ༘♡ when his lips met yours, it wasn’t soft or careful. it was desperate, a confession in itself, and against your better judgment, against every screaming thought in your head, you didn’t pull away. instead, you let the infatuation consume you, the bitterness, the anger, the ache of betrayal melding together into something raw and inescapable.

˚ ༘♡ when it broke, you were left shaking, your breaths uneven as you stared at him, your heart pounding with emotions you couldn’t even begin to name. you hated him, but lord, you hated how much you wanted to understand him even more.

a/n: you all asked for another part so i had to write part four!! i had a cosmetic procedure that requires me to stay home for a few days so if you have any requests, this is the time!! i hope you all loved reading!! 🤍

[nottswitch]

bf!sister theo eating you out on your birthday as a gift

fun fact: sister’s bf!theo is double the munch as the usual theo, and i think we all understand why

warnings: 18+ smut, oral (f receiving), degrading, implied intox, cursing

"don’t worry, amore, i’ll get her to her room."

"thanks, teddy, you’re the best."

theo placed a chaste kiss on your sister’s lips, looking all parts sympathetic. you frowned, your eyes darting between her and her boyfriend, wondering what they were even on about. it was your birthday, and you didn’t even have that much to drink – a couple of champagne glasses and just starting on shots. however, nott’s smirk that appeared as soon as he turned his face away from your sister told you everything you needed to know.

that was how you ended up splayed out on your bed, panting and biting your bottom lip to stifle your moans as your sister’s boyfriend slowly but surely devoured your dripping pussy. it was different today – not the usual hurried haste of your encounters, all dry humping and jerking off, but something slower, almost… gentle. you’d heard your sister gushing about theo’s oral skills multiple times, and finally, finally you could see for yourself, albeit it wasn’t really your initiative.

"such a slut f’me… always ready, huh? wet like a bitch…"

yeah, almost was the key word.

you grabbed a fistful of theo’s hair, pressing his face deeper between your thighs to shut him up – he liked running his mouth way too much when it was way more useful for other things. theo rolled his eyes, giving your inner thigh a light slap before wrapping his lips around your clit and giving it a firm suck, making your body arch off the bed from the sheer pleasure of it. your hand flew to your mouth, covering up a moan that threatened to escape, which only made theo smirk like an absolute bastard.

"can’t even stay quiet. pathetic, bambina, really," he murmured against your folds, but his face ended up being shoved into you once more, your grip on his – stupid – curls tightening. he hissed but eagerly returned to work, his tongue swirling around your sensitive clit and lapping up your juices that started staining the sheets underneath.

but he just couldn’t shut up, could he? "enjoy while you can, piccola," theo mumbled once again, each of his words interrupted by the slurping sounds of his lips collecting all your arousal into his mouth. "this is a present, just so you know, yeah? don’t think i’m gonna give you my mouth fully, baby, that’s your sister’s."

his infuriating smirk seeped into his voice, which only made you want to rip his hair out, and you probably would had you not been so fucking close.

"shut your damn mouth, teddy,” you breathlessly retorted, trying to match his mocking, though it wasn’t as easy with his tongue getting back to your swollen clit that throbbed with pleasure.

"nuh-uh, baby. theodore for you," he teased, but your fingertips digging into his scalp let him know that if he didn’t make you cum right that moment, he’d end up with a pretty nasty bald patch. he chuckled, slipping his tongue into your clenching entrance, pressing into the spongy flesh of your walls in a way that made you bite on your palm. your orgasm started trickling down his chin in a few seconds, and you’d be embarrassed of the speed which he managed to tip you over the edge with if you were still in your right mind.

"it’s so fucking easy with you, huh," theo hummed, pretending to be deep in thought as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "you like the exact same things as her. almost like you’re sisters or something?"

there was that smirk again. you gritted your teeth, giving him a shove to get him off your bed already – he was definitely overstaying his welcome.

"you sounded better between my legs,” you quipped, your voice finally starting to steady after the mind blowing orgasm this fucker managed to give you. so your sister definitely wasn’t lying–

"that’s what she says too," theo answered, giving you a sly wink as he climbed off the bed, accompanied by your slipper hitting his back with a quiet thud. he pretended to clutch his back, even though he wasn’t really hurt, and lingered at the door, giving you one last irritating, annoying, downright fucking exasperating look. "happy birthday, piccola. now i’m gonna give my girl a present too, for having such a slut as a sister."

» au ; more

[reidology13]

imgonnagetyouback

Spencer Reid x fem!reader - Undercover with your ex boyfriend

cw: suggestive, age gap, a gun is shot, a lil angst?

wc: 2.9k

a/n: this took sooo long and idk what to think of it, but it's something!!

As you stood outside the club, arms linked with Spencer Reid – your coworker and ex boyfriend – you wondered how exactly you ended up here. None of this would have happened if Prentiss knew about your history. Keeping your relationship, and the end of it, a secret had seemed like a good idea at the time, and had been going well until earlier that day. Prentiss calling you and Spencer into her office had already been unexpected, but being assigned with an undercover mission, as a couple, was enough to shock you into silence for a moment. Still, no amount of shock could have kept you from fighting Spencer when he argued against you being undercover with him. You were perfectly capable of doing your job, Prentiss knew that, Spencer knew that, and he would pay.

“We watch him from the bar, put on a show until he notices us, then we walk out and hope he takes the bait. Okay?” You were so caught up in your thoughts that it took a second for the sound of his voice register. What didn’t need time to sink in was the feeling of his breath, hot on your skin.

“I know the plan.” You rolled your eyes, tensing as he slipped his arm out of yours, wrapping it around your waist, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt, “Dick.”

“Time to head inside. Remember, this unsub needs more from a couple than just a younger woman, he needs you to be physically affectionate.” The disembodied voice of your Unit Chief filled your ears, and Spencer gave you a look that had to be designed entirely to piss you off. It was working.

“We can do that, Prentiss.” Spencer said, the smile barely hidden in his voice, his thumb rubbing over one of your ribs.

“Let’s go.” You stepped out of his reach, grabbing his hand and dragging him with you into the club. The moment you were inside he pulled you closer to him, keeping you glued to his side as he steered you towards the bar. The way he took charge of the situation shouldn’t have been nearly as attractive as it was, a cruel reminder of what you had been. The awkward, nerdy Spencer Reid was gone, replaced by a version that even you had only seen a few times. It was a side of him that only came out on days – well, nights – when he needed to take control after a bad day.

Or, apparently, whenever he wanted it to.

As you sat at the bar, he seemed to decide the small gap the stools put between you was too much, shuffling to the edge of his and leaning in as far as he could. It was a precarious position, and if you hadn’t been undercover, you would have given him a shove and watched him scramble for the seat. That was what you would have done a few months ago, and he would have scowled, and you would have laughed until his pride gave up and he joined in. Instead, you mirrored him, leaning in until you could hear his hushed words in your ear.

“Can you see him?” You pulled back a bit, giving yourself a wider view of the crowded room as you searched for the suspect. Not that he was really a ‘suspect’ anymore, the profile and every single piece of evidence pointed to him. All that was left for you to do was get him out of the club and into a location where he would be of no danger to the public when your team apprehended him.

And you would, because there he was, near the wall at the back of the room, concealed in the crowd. Your eyes flashed back to Spencer’s immediately, you couldn’t risk blowing your cover because the unsub caught you staring.

“In the corner of the room, to your left.”

“Well then,” The momentary professionalism was gone from his voice, replaced by that infuriating, seductive, punchable smugness, “I guess all we have left to do is wait.”

Waiting was the last thing either of you would be doing. An unsub like this needed to be constantly entertained, like a cat distracted by the nearest movement. The job was to draw and keep his attention, and to be honest, that was the last thing you wanted to do with Spencer. It was also the only thing you had ever wanted in your entire life, which was why you were not giving your hormones an ounce of attention.

“Okay, but right now he hasn’t looked our way once, so either we get moving, or we might as well pack up and leave.” You hissed under your breath, the tone of your voice harsher than you had intended.

“He's not going to take the bait if you keep glaring at me like that, we're supposed to be a couple, remember?” He might have been the most infuriating person whose presence you had ever been subjected to, but he was right. You contorted your face into a smile, waving the bartender over and ordering the first non alcoholic drink that came to mind. 

“I really don't like you, you know that right?” You ran your hand over his chest, fingers toying with the collar of his shirt. 

“I know.”

You didn’t respond, opting instead to take a small sip from your glass, carefully ignoring the man beside you. Everything these days had to be careful. Answering the team's questions as to why you two had gone from best friends to barely talking, avoiding all of your old haunts, prying the remnants of him out of your life. You were tired of it.

“So, how are we supposed to draw his attention?” You sighed, placing your drink down as you glanced at the unsub, not at all surprised to see him looking in the opposite direction to the two of you.

“Come here.” He wasn’t even looking at you as he tapped his thigh, barely sparing you an ounce of his attention as he looked around the room.

“Fuck you.” 

“That was my plan B.” If you weren’t already rolling your eyes, you would have then. Still, there was something about hearing the immature, juvenile jabs from Spencer Reid, the man who was known for his grasp of language that was almost – almost – endearing.

“You’re disgusting.”

“You’re still sitting on your stool.”

“I’m not going to sit anywhere else.” You flinched when you felt his hands make contact with your waist.

“And how do you expect the unsub to target us when you won’t let me touch you?”

“Fine.” You slid off the seat, allowing his hands on your waist to help pull you up the extra distance, bringing you to perch on his lap. It made it worse that you had to face him to keep eyes on the unsub, meaning that your lips were only a few inches apart.

“How easy was that?”

“I don’t care about this,” you gestured to the space—or lack thereof—between you, “I care about how smug you’re being.”

“Why?”

“Because you didn't want me here in the first place, and now you're trying to punish me in some weird, sick game of yours.”

“I'm not trying to punish you, and the only reason I didn’t want you here was how dangerous this is.” You tried to focus on the anger you felt at him thinking you couldn’t handle yourself, rather than the part of you that revelled in how protective he could be.

“Then why have you been like this all night? All annoying and flirty?”

“I'm not sure about the annoying part, but do you expect me not to flirt with the beautiful woman on my arm?” He took a glance at where you were perched on his knee before correcting himself, “In my lap?”

You weren't sure how you were planning on responding to him, but luckily you didn't have to, catching the unsub’s gaze on the two of you out of the corner of your eye. He seemed mildly interested, not overly intrigued by the display, but enough to have marked you down as a possibility. 

“He's looking at us.” You murmured to Spencer, resting your head on his shoulder, the position designed to force you to keep your eyes off the unsub, no matter how tempting it was to steal a glance.

“When you’re sure you have his attention, walk out and go to the alley behind the building.” Emily’s voice in your ear felt like a slap to the face, a nice reminder that you and Spencer were under constant surveillance, and that you were at risk of a stern conversation after this was over. Inappropriate workplace conduct, probably. You mentally thanked Garcia and Morgan for greasing the wheels.

“Yes, ma’am.” 

A jolt ran through you when Spencer’s fingers dug into the flesh of your thigh, the sensation so deeply entwined with good memories that it was almost nostalgic. You ran a hand down his arm slowly, almost sensually, a romantic gesture to anyone that saw, unaware of the subtle pinch you gave his wrist. You held back a snicker when he hissed under his breath and loosened his harsh grip, but refused to move his hand from its new resting place.

“What was that for?” His voice went all high pitched and whiny, the cute annoying way that it always did when he complained.

“Don’t act dumb, Spence, it doesn’t suit you.” The nickname slipped out absentmindedly, it didn’t cross your mind that you hadn’t even called him by anything but his last name in months. His breath hitched, and you lifted your head from his shoulder to see what was going on, to make sure that he was okay. 

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw him, slack jawed and gazing at you like you were the only being in the universe. It was the way he used to look at you when you were curled up on his couch, when you were writhing underneath him, when he whispered ‘good morning’ with a soft kiss to your shoulder. When you were his. It might as well have been another one of his miraculous magic tricks, the way it made every sane thought in your head disappear.

Which was probably why you made no move to stop him when his lips crashed into yours, hands cupping your cheeks with a familiar intensity. You melted into his touch, almost forgetting why you were there in the first place. Your hands roamed all over him, frustrated at the inability to be everywhere at once, eventually settling for tangling in his hair. A small cough from the bartender separated you, Spencer holding your bottom lip for a moment too long as he pulled back. It was hard to tell how long the kiss lasted, only that you were so oxygen deprived by the end of it that your head spun. Or that was just a side effect of him. Probably. 

Reality sunk in, and you couldn’t bring yourself to meet Spencer’s eyes again, keeping your focus on his messier-than-usual hair. That you had caused. 

Fuck.

“That was…” His breathless voice was almost too much, like he had just come up for air after being underwater. 

“Nothing, Reid.” If he had been holding his breath, you had been drowning.

“Say it again,” He tilted your head with the hands that were still holding your face like it was made of porcelain, forcing you to meet his gaze. Dark eyes bore into your own as you let go of his hair, hands falling numbly to your sides, “my name.”

“We’re at work.” 

Although the reminder had been intended for him, saying the words prompted you to direct your focus back to the case. You glanced subtly in the direction of the unsub, hoping to find him fixated on your display, only to discover that he wasn’t there. Panic rose in your chest at the thought your momentary distraction had allowed him to get away, follow some other couple out. If new victims popped up the next day it would be your fault.

And then you saw him, significantly closer with his eyes locked on you both, and you were sure that you had never been so relieved to be the target of a serial killer. Unfortunately, he wasn’t caught yet, and it was still up to you and Spencer to lure him out of there. Which meant more touching, more talking, more him. 

“Baby, let’s get out of here.” You made sure to speak loud enough for the unsub to hear, and gave the bartender a look of annoyance, as if he was being an imposition by asking you to not rip the clothes off of each other in public. You might have felt a bit guilty if lives weren’t at stake.

Spencer nodded, keeping his hands firmly on your waist even after he had helped you get down from his lap. He leant down to press another kiss to your lips, and you forced yourself to keep your head on straight, giggling as he pulled back, chasing his lips playfully. Up on your tiptoes, you kissed his jaw lightly. The whole walk out of the club was spent all over each other, like you couldn’t get enough, one of you was always touching the other.

As you meandered onto the street, you spotted a statue of a little cherub angel, saying something cheesy and romantic. Spencer leaned down, breath hot on your ear as he whispered in an exaggerated sensual tone, “Don’t even blink. Blink and you’re dead. They’re fast, faster than you could believe.”

That time, you couldn’t tell yourself the laugh that fell from your lips wasn’t real, it was so Spencer to make a joke about Doctor Who while you were actively being stalked by a serial killer. You took advantage of his proximity to pull him into another kiss, stumbling into the alley where the ambush was to take place. He pushed you against the wall, peppering your face and neck with kisses, his hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise. You heard a shuffle in the alley, the cock of a gun, and the rest was a blur as the two of you were knocked to the ground, just as a gunshot rang out.

.*☆¸•

When everything was over, when the unsub had been apprehended and the team was back at the local police station, you couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed. Not that the unsub had been caught, of course, but at the fact that was most definitely the last time you would get to touch Spencer like that.

You hadn’t expected him to show up at the door of your hotel room at two in the morning, about an hour after you had made it back from the police station.

“What are you doing here.” It wasn’t a question, it was a polite way of telling him to go away before you did something stupid, like slap him. Or kiss him. Or both.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” He ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair as he stepped forwards, the fire with which he looked at you bordering on a glare. Every second he spent in the room with you was clouding your thoughts, at least the sensible ones that were reminding you of every reason why you shouldn’t just drag him over to the ran through hotel bed.

“Get out.”

“Tell me that it wasn’t real.” In a few short steps he was standing right before you—fuck, his legs were long, which shouldn’t have been as hot as it was—with those brown eyes staring into your soul.

“You know I can’t.” You wished you had more control over what you said, and you wished that he had more self restraint when it came to his actions.

Neither of you did, however, and you had always been weak when it came to him, too weak to care when he leant down and pressed his lips to yours. It wasn’t soft, it was restrained, as if it was taking everything in him to hold back. You didn’t want him to hold back, even if it was out of respect for you, impatience was your vice. Grabbing the collar of his stupidly sexy sleep shirt, you pulled him in deeper, hoping the sensation of his tongue could lick away the bitter taste in your mouth. 

This time, when you separated, he was the one to pull back, his breathing heavy and a feral glint in his eyes that were otherwise filled with sorrow.

“I’m sorry.” Neither of you needed to clarify what he was referring to, and neither of you wanted to. The few months after he was released from prison were Hell for both of you, for entirely different reasons.

“I don’t care about that, we’re okay.” It was only half a lie, murmured against his neck as you pressed desperate, sloppy kisses to his skin. Of course you cared, but that care was being swiftly overridden by much more single-minded feelings. You weren’t okay, but maybe you could be.

He looked right through you in that way only Spencer Reid ever could, and he knew just as well as you did that you were lying. You both needed to talk, and you would, at least that’s what you told yourselves. 

Not that night, though.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

tysm for reading!!

Tags: @reidmoony-toast + a little dedicatory tag for @darkmatilda ty for being like the entire reason I finished this

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Who do you think is the most popular dorm leader amongst their students. Like Leona's obviously kind of a dick but people love him and respect him, while Riddle is more controversial amongst the students. Like rank them based on popularity if you'd be so kind!

I think it really depends??? Like, it's obviously very different within a dorm versus outside of it. Then there's also the question of passion and how far the students that admire said dorm leader will go for them. For example, Diasomnia students are incredibly passionate and form literal angry mobs to defend Malleus's honor; this cannot be said for most of the other dorms. However, the love and admiration for Malleus stretches thin outside of his own dormitory.

Instead of ranking them overall, I think I would instead categorize them like this (note: Yuu is excluded because Ramshackle has fallen from its status as a dorm):

Popular, few to no strings attached:

Kalim is popular both in his dorm and outside of it. He is one of the few cheerful and friendly students on campus and is shown to be well-liked in Scarabia for his empathy and willingness to accept others as they are. Kalim is also generous, throwing parties that include guests from other dorms and often trying to buy expensive gifts like diamonds for his dorm members (until he is stopped by others). His naivety also means he’s easily fooled and taken advantage of, which… sounds like a bad thing, but would be seen as a positive by some of the less savory characters at NRC.

Vil is generally liked and respected. Pre-book 5 Epel is an exception to this. However, students from other dorms, particularly Savanaclaw, sometimes mock Vil and underestimate him until he proves himself to them (for example, in Beans Fest). In both cases, his doubters change their minds and come around to him one way or another. I'd also imagine that Vil being a celebrity and all gives him a HUGE boost in appeal among the general student body.

Popular-ish, terms and conditions apply:

Leona is decently popular, especially among first years, his club, and within his own dormitory. He tends to attract younger students seeking a cool and dependable older brother or mentor figure. Most others—especially in his own grade level—have beef with Leona and/or take issue with his attitude, which is fair and valid.

Known but… infamous:

Riddle seems to be seen in a relatively neutral light by most students. Some admire him for his diligence but more often than not, he’s deemed annoying or unreasonable for enforcing the rules, especially Heartslabyul’s ridiculous ones. His penchant for blowing up at people and being anal about adhering to rules in a very literal and absolutist way probably does not earn him brownie points.

Azul is technically well-known but not necessarily adored. The twins go around advertising his services and luring in potential clients. If you need something, you know he can help you out… for the right price. Azul also has notoriety thanks to running the Mostro Lounge. I don't think people like him very much though, considering that mob students complain about how he’s a scumbag, fellow dorm leaders like Vil express an inherent distrust of him, and Azul himself has zero qualms about using dirty tactics like blackmail to get his own dorm members under his thumb. It feels like people are polite to him out of obligation and fear or what would happen if they aren’t. So in a weird way, Azul is liked for what he can provide people, but isn’t genuinely liked as an individual.

Malleus is playing a game of emotional extremes. While he has fervent, die-hard Draconians like Sebek backing him, the majority of the NRC population holds the opposite opinion and is deathly afraid of him. If he so much as smiles at a mob student or attempts to approach them, most would scream and/or run away. There are certainly exceptions (Kalim, Rook, Yuu, etc.), but they’re in the minority. He’s overing near the bottom, if only because of the overwhelming terror his name evokes, even if the Draconians attempt to balance it out. Their pushes to make others recognize the glory of their dorm leader only serves to further exacerbate existing tensions.

Not known and/or not popular:

Idia, well… Does bro touch grass and see the light of day enough to even be known by most of the students??? The students we do see Idia interact with tend to either ignore him (partly because he lurks in corners, away from people) or think of him as unpleasant to deal with. It’s hard for him to socialize, and when he does sometimes his Gamer ego gets the better of him and he mouths off an insult that catches him heat. Idia may get some street cred in his own dorm for his skills, but this largely doesn’t extend beyond Ignihyde. I wouldn’t even know if it would be right to say that the other Ignihyde students like Idia; everyone just stays in their own rooms way too much for me to properly gauge their relationship and so I’m left to take the opinions of the larger student body into account.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Seeing Stars 2

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Summary: You struggle to be star struck by the world's most famous super soldiers. (grumpy!short!reader)

Note: Guess this is happening.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Your image in print makes you cringe again. If you keep doing that, you're going to form a few new wrinkles. It's hard to describe the expression on your face; somewhere between a gape and a grimace. Bonita doesn't seem to notice as she waves the signed photo in glee. 

"Oh my god! Mo is going to hella jealous," she chimes. 

You grumble. Another pair of thunder gods barge by and you stop short to keep from getting bonked by a foam hammer.  

"They couldn't crop me out?" You wonder. 

"Heyyyyy, no way. Then it'd only be me and cap," she whines. "You look fine." 

She isn't looking at you. She's too obsessed with herself, perched perfectly in Steve Rogers' arms. You glower at your likeness and roll your eyes.  

You shrug as if trying to wriggle free of the touch no longer there. It's there in the picture, that unwelcome embrace. It just happened so fast. You don't touch. You don't hug. Bonita gets on for her birthday and one for Christmas and outside of that, you have your bubble. 

"My feet are killing me," you drone. 

"You're not tapping our already, are you?" She chirps. 

"No, but I could use a coffee. Maybe sit for a few." 

"I don't want to miss the costume competition," she hums. "How about you come find me?" 

"That works." 

You'll agree to anything if it gets you a break from all this. You feel your battery flickering. You're at 12% socially and recharging will take days, if not weeks. 

"I'll text if I get lost," you assure her. 

You part and go in search of one of the vending machines you passed a few minutes ago. You're not outwardly sardonic, or you try not to be. When people describe you as deadpan, you're often surprised they pick up on that. You say as little as you can but some people take silence negatively.  

You tap your card for the overpriced instant cappucino. The machine churns noisily and a cup drops down onto the tray. The brown espresso mix spits from the nozzle. Its aromatic even if you expect a watered down flavour. 

You take the cup and blow over it. You keep away from the hordes of fandom devout. You wind along the wall and find a quiet hallway. You lean by the emergency exit and sip your coffee. 

You close your eyes and sigh, tilting your head back as you let the coolness of the wall soothe you. You inhale as the thrum of the crowd drifts in. You don't want to go back. 

There's some scuffing at the end of the hall. Your head snaps up and you stand straight, expecting a staff member to chase you out. Worse. It's one of them. 

"Oh hey," the blond slows as he comes down the hall, stopping midway. "Um... didn't expect anyone back here." 

You stare at Steve Rogers and take another drink, "just on my way out." You glance at the door to your left; 'Employees Only'. The placard beneath denotes a restroom. Makes sense, he can't piss with the peons. 

"You got a photo," he says as you edge down the hall, keeping near the wall as you try not to get close. 

"My friend did, yeah." 

"Wait? You didn't get a copy? I can pull a few strings." 

"No thanks," you stop a foot away from him, realising he's too big to squeeze by.  

"You alright?" He asks, sounding genuinely concerned. Your forehead furrows but you stop the frown from reaching your lips, "I'm fine." 

"These things give me a headache too," he says. 

How presumptuous. Even if your head is feeling a bit dull. 

"VIP is pretty nice. There's a lounge. I could get you and your friend some passes. Hear they got real coffee too," he gestures to your cup. "I don't know for sure, I don't get to enjoy it much." 

"That's... too nice," you insist. "Excuse me, I gotta find my friend." 

You motion past him but he only moves an inch, "need help?" 

You look at him and shake your head, "I'll find her." You waggle your phone at him and turn, sidling by slowly. At last your free but at the cost of a few drops of coffee as it sloshes in your cup. It's bland. You toss it at the first bin. What a waste. 

You find Bonita near the contest banner. She looks unimpressed as she pouts and crosses her arms. You near as a yawn threatens to break free. 

"What's up?" You ask. 

"Didn't qualify for the contest," she mopes. "So, guess I'll watch." 

"Hm, there's a prize?" 

"Just a gift card but still," she says. 

"Ah, too bad." 

"Well..." she looks around, "how about the raffle? The grand prize is a your of the Avengers compound or something." 

You try not to show your disinterest. She better not invite you to that too. Ha, it's a long shot anyway. You'll humour her for a bit longer. 

"Sure, why not." 

You follow her over to the table. The staff at the table fill out the ballots for you using your ticket numbers. You give your information mindlessly, figuring there's enough people there that you'll forget you even bothered. 

"That's so awesome," Bonita trills. "Can you imagine?" 

You would hate it. You know. You like a museum tour or even a solitary stroll through the library but some good will act for good PR? You'll pass. 

"I hope you win," you say to Bonita. 

"Me too. I have so many questions!" She begins to ramble as you only half-listen. 

As you walk along the booths, your eyes wander through the milling bodies. You squint as a head of golden hair bobs at the far end of the room and pauses. Even on your toes, you can't see enough to confirm your suspicions. What does it matter anyway? Good luck to the Cap finding his way back through these fanatics. You don't envy his lot, you hardly covet your own. 

[daddydixonscrossbow]

You walk up to Daryl who’s sitting on his porch, lit cigarette between his lips, “Same shit, different year, right?” Daryl lets out a chuckle, nodding his head as he looks away from you, “Sounds about right.”

You walk forward, turning to face him as you lean on the banister, “Do you think things will ever get better?”

Daryl scoffs, pulling the stick from between his lips, “Nah, there’s always some dumb asshole who gets bit and turns.” You laugh slightly, “Yeah, you’re right.” You let out a sigh, looking around, “Carol is having a dinner tonight to celebrate another year of surviving, I guess. Are you going?”

He shakes his head, “Probably not.”

“Oh.” You purse your lips, “Yeah, me either.”

He looks up at you, “Do you want to go?” You shrug, “Not sure.” He nods, “Mm, okay. Sounds like y’do.” You roll your eyes, “The only reason I was gonna go is if you were going.”

He smirks, shaking his head, “really?” You nod, “Really.” He stands up, “Tell ya what, you sneak some food and meet me back here, we can have our own little survival celebration.” He places his unfinished cigarette between your lips, “Deal?”

You take a drag, nodding as you blow out the smoke, “Yes, Mr. Dixon, we have a deal.”

Here’s a kiss for likin’ and rebloggin’💋

[captain-huggy-bear]

Squish Time

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety, panic attacks, mental health

Summary: Sometimes there is only one way to regulate your nervous system and that is squish time.

Notes: In honour of my anxiety disorder and the fact that sometimes I just want a hockey player to squish me into a mattress to help my brain regulate itself. 👍

2 fics in one day? More likely than you think.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

You've had anxiety for as long as you can remember, more of your life had been spent worrying about seemingly silly little things, adrenaline buzzing through your system, than not. It's something you've learnt to deal with and over the years, the work you've put in has made it less of an issue. You have your mechanisms to minimise it, to cope, to enjoy your life and keep panic attacks to a minimum but that doesn't mean that they don't ever happen. Sometimes they happen without any explanation, like your body has been storing up anxiety for a random moment.

It hits you slowly, a winding sort of buzzing through your veins like a thousand bees have decided to make their way into your body and start an orchestra or brass band. It's a familiar but unpleasant sensation that has you wandering around the apartment hands tapping any surface you find in an attempt to expell the sudden burst of adrenaline.

Your heart races, palpitations that feel so strong in your chest that you're certain your heart wants to leap out of your chest and run halfway across the world. Sounds feel dull, deadened like you're underwater, a muffled sense of everything being distant, not there, not with you, taking over. Then the sick feeling hits, like you might be sick at any moment, queasiness hitting you just to add to the other issues. Despite it all, you try to manage it on your own, even knowing Quinn is a room over, you don't want to bother him. Instead you pace and pace and pace even as you struggle to breathe.

It's your pacing, the sound of your feet urgently moving back and forth, around in circles that has Quinn popping his head out of the bedroom where he'd been sorting laundry.

Green eyes assess you, trailing from head to toe. You're biting your lip so hard he's certain you're going to break skin, while your entire body is shaking as you pace, like you've drunk 4 redbulls in quick success or just run a marathon. But it's the way you cycle through various stimms, fingers tapping together in rhythm to try and ground yourself, as your chest heaves in an attempt to get more air in your lungs that really tips him off.

"You okay, baby?"

Your reaction is instant, a sharp turn towards him, eyes wide, head shaking back and forth as tears well in your eyes like you might just cry the Niagra Falls. You look so fucking fragile and he hates it more than anything.

"Okay, okay, c'mere..." He's over to you in three long strides, pulling you tight against his chest, pressing your face into him. You're shaking so hard that it feels like you're a phone on vibrate, like you might blow away in the wind.

It's not everyday you get like this, a rare occurance more so lately, but Quinn's seen it enough to know his options, the sorts of things that do and don't help. Sometimes it just takes his arms around you, a tight grip, as his hands rub paths up and down your back. Sometimes merely the sense of being held for a few moments, the smell of his cologne and the beat of his heart under your ear is enough to ground you.

He can sense that today that's not enough. The way you shake doesn't let up, not even after two minutes of him holding you, there's this calm collectedness to him that hits. A sense that there's a problem, he needs to find a solution and he needs to do so without panicking. Call it his background as a big brother or maybe just being captain of the Canucks, but he sets his own worry aside, his own panic bricked up into a little room.

"You need squish time?" Quinn's voice would be loud to anyone else, heck its loud to his own ears, but muffled to you. He knows how the panic muffles everything for you, the way sounds are quieter, duller, you've told him time and time again that you feel deaf when you're in a panic, so he forces his voice louder to accommodate.

The instant you nod your head, he's moving you to the bedroom, shoving laundry on the floor, not worrying about the mess and helping you to lie on the bed on your back. He's careful to pop pillows under your head and neck for support. There's very little preamble, no real hesitation before he's crawling all 180 pounds of himself up and over you, flopping down ontop of you like a living weighted blanket.

The first time you'd asked for squish time he'd been terrified that he'd hurt you. That you're shallow breathing would be made worse by him compressing you into the mattress, but over time he'd learnt that it was needed sometimes. There was some sort of natural reset that happened to your body when he laid on top of you, a sort of nervous system do over that helped you to ground yourself when all else failed. Squish time was like the fail safe.

For you it was grounding, all encompassing, to feel the weight of Quinn ontop of you in that moment, the way the mattress rose to meet you, the sensation of the blankets under you, his clothes atop you. The weight of him pressing down until you felt surrounded by Quinn. It helped you to calm yourself, so you were thankful in that moment for the 180 pounds of hockey player squishing you, the way your arms wrapped around his waist, the sensation of his hoodie under your fingertips. You were thankful for the way the smell of his cologne and your laundry detergent surrounded you, how you could feel your breaths pushing up against his chest, the resistance calming, the way his face pressed into the crook of your neck like he could use his entire body to shield you from the outside world.

Each breath you took underneath him helped, each moment of being squashed was grounding. You found it easier to focus on the fact you were there, you were safe, you were okay. Each moment drained the adrenaline from your system like Quinn had opened the bee hive to let the swarm of bees escape your bloodstream. Like he'd physically removed the adrenaline himself.

Quinn doesn't even consider moving until he can feel your entire body go boneless, relaxed, till your breaths are even and slow. Even then he just lifts his head to look at you, arms bracketing either side of your head.

"Better?" You look exhausted, in the way you usually do after a panic attack, the influx of adrenaline having worn off and leaving you completely drained.

"Mmm, much better, thank you." You blink at him almost sleepily, but your smile is thankful, Quinn can't help but push forward and press a lazy kiss to your cheek, still keeping most of his weight on you.

"Don't need to thank me, baby, it's what i'm here for. 'm always going to look after you." He means it. He's pretty sure he has 2 goals in life: play good hockey and look after you. The latter he hopes he does for his entire life, it never feels like a chore to help you, he enjoys doing it. He likes that he can calm you down from a panic and that he knows how to make you smile after a long day. You make him feel needed, wanted.

"Can we just lie like this for a little longer?"

"Course. No rush, baby." Quinn settles himself back down on you, face pressed into your neck as your own does the same to him. The two of you lie like that for a while, until the weight of him stops being comforting and becomes a little too claustraphobic and constricting.

[reverie-starlight]

happy NYE, i’m sick and want karasu to take care of me. still figuring out characterization + I’ve never written for him yadda yadda.

fem!reader, no physical descriptions, mentions of having a cold + symptoms, very short and not edited properly. karasu is very loving. I liked writing this a lot, he’s fun. FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF.

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

“hey sweet girl, how are you feeling?”

you turn your head to look at the source of the familiar voice coming from your bedroom’s doorway. your fiancé leans against the frame holding a steaming mug and looking at you with concerned eyes.

you pout pull the hood of your sweater over your head. okay, his sweater, but you’d argue that you co-own it. “ugh.”

karasu snorts and walks into the room, placing the mug down on your nightstand before sitting next to you and gently rubbing your knee. “at least you’re sitting up now.”

as soon as he’s within range, you lean into him and release a drawn out groan. he rolls his eyes, knowing you’re exaggerating a smidge, just as you always do when you’re not feeling well, but affectionately rubs up and down your back anyway.

he’d be a liar if he ever said he doesn’t like indulging you here and there, playing into your ploys for extra affection included.

he cups the base of your skull, massaging it slightly. “does your head still hurt?”

your face is still buried in his chest as you shake your head slightly. “no, thankfully. just my throat and some of my muscles.”

“poor thing,” he leans over slightly to pass you the mug. “I made you some tea with honey.”

“thanks, baby,” you smile up at him. “can you pass me a tissue please?”

karasu grabs one and pinches it over your nose with a teasing grin. “blow.”

you glare at him and you both know that if your arms didn’t feel limp as noodles right now, you’d snatch it away from him. since you can’t, however, you resign yourself to following his instruction.

“you sound like a goose when you do that,” he snickers, tossing the tissue in the trash and moving

“thanks,” you say, before taking a sip of your tea. it’s good, not scalding hot and not gross either. you’ll have to remember to make this for him when he inevitably gets sick later this week. “you should be nicer to your girlfriend who’s over here suffering and rotting and-“

he laughs and moves himself into bed and under the covers with you. “you’re such a big baby, ya know that?”

you place your tea back on the side table and lay down, pouting again in indignation. he follows you and cups your face in his hand. “you’re my baby, though.”

you fake gag and he shakes his head. “you love it when I get all sweet on you, don’t even try that whole act on me,” he lets you scoot closer and wraps his arms around you.

“wouldn’t have to if you hadn’t called me a goose,” you mumble, nuzzling against his neck despite your bitter tone.

karasu bites back a laugh and drags his nails through your scalp comfortingly. “I wasn’t calling you a goose, I only said you sounded like one.”

you peek up to shoot him another dirty look. “because that’s so much better. and here I thought you liked my voice.”

“I love your voice, angel, even now that it’s all gravelly and raw. but you don’t use your voice to blow your nose, now do you?”

you grumble something about logic he can’t fully make out and let silence take over for a moment.

as much as he loves teasing you, seeing you try to clear your stuffy nose and hearing your coughs breaks his heart a bit. he hates seeing you suffer- if he had it his way you’d be happy and in good spirits all the time. he wants nothing more than to baby you a bit, help you recover and lift your spirits.

he presses a kiss against your forehead. “can I get you anything else, pretty?”

you shake your head and pull him closer. “no thank you, tabito, you’ve already done so much for me today.”

he admires you and rubs his thumb under your eye for a bit. “do you want to take a nap?”

you shake your head. “I’m all napped out. I want to be able to sleep tonight.”

karasu nods and thinks for a minute. “how about a change of scenery, then?”

you blink and tilt your head. “Hm? I don’t know if I’m up to leaving the house, baby.”

“no, just to the living room. you’ve been cooped up in here all morning. do ya want to watch one of your comfort movies? the one with the dragons maybe?”

you nod, and wrap your arms around his neck. “but can you carry me? my legs feel a bit shaky.”

moments later you’re being scooped up in his arms and deposited on the couch with fluffy blankets, boxes of tissues and some snacks.

“all good, babe?” he checks in with you, looking down at your head on his chest before hitting play.

your chest blooms at how well he’s been treating you all day. how he’s always treated you, actually. you could not have asked for a better nurse to have around.

you hope you give him half the comfort he’s given you when it’s his turn to play patient.

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

this could 100% be better, however my last brain cell is working overtime trying to do a new character justice. hopefully I did alright 🥹🫶🏻

hope you enjoyed!!

and ty @emmyrosee for screaming abt karasu with me 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

[etclouie]

could i get 25 and 30 from the 100 dialogue prompts with dbf!chibs

˚୨୧⋆｡ prompt/s; 25) “you could do so much better than me” and 30) “yeah, i want to, but… wouldn’t it be weird?” — from 100 dialogue prompts

˚୨୧⋆｡ warnings; dad’s best friend trope, implied age gap (unspecified but chibs is older), mutual pinning but chibs is scared to fall/admit, readers dad is unmentioned but allusions to being a member of samcro, reader smokes (but it can be skimmed over), uhm they kiss + confess, this is 1.5k words btw!!

˚୨୧⋆｡ a/n; ending my event on a high with my fave 

— thank you for celebrating 600 with me || submissions are now closed

the club had gone on a lockdown and everyone was instructed to stay at the Red Woody studio, but with the sheer amount of people it felt cramped. 

when the boys had gone into chapel, you’d made your way up onto the roof. escaping to the otherwise quiet space, and finally letting out a sigh of relief. 

it wasn’t like you didn’t like the club, it just felt overwhelming at times. suffocating even. 

so you needed to withdraw from it all, which became hard during lockdowns. 

you’d lost track of time as you watched the world go by in the distance, only becoming re-aware of your surroundings when the sound of boots grew closer. 

glancing over your shoulder you spotted Chibs, your dad’s best friend. 

flashing him a half smile before looking away again, sighing heavily. his presence loomed over the silent rooftop, causing a chill to run down your spine. 

reaching into your pocket to grab a cigarette and offering the box up to him, which he declined. shrugging as you set the cigarette between your lips, lighting it with ease and taking a drag from it before exhaling with another sigh. 

“yer dad’s looking for you”

his voice broke the silence, earning a nod in response as your eyes stayed on the water behind the studio. 

you could hear him take another step closer before he grabbed the crate to sit next to you, still leaving three feet’s worth of distance between you both. 

“what’s he want?”

you asked, taking another drag of the cigarette. blowing the smoke out in the opposite direction before tilting your head to Chibs again, eyes flicking briefly down his body before settling on his face. 

“was wonderin’ where you ran off to”

that pulled a laugh from you, shaking your head and pulling your gaze away once more. 

if anything, you didn’t think your dad would’ve sent Chibs to come looking for you. sure they were best friends, but of all people you’d never expected him. 

though you weren’t exactly complaining, you’d never throw a fit over a visit from your favourite Scotsman. 

“and he sent you, huh?”

he chuckled at your words, running a hand across his chin and scratching at his beard. 

just like you had a moment prior, he let his eyes rake down your body. his tongue poking out to wet his lips, and he couldn’t help the heat that shoot through him alongside the various thoughts he’d have of you. 

when he didn’t answer for a minute, it had a smirk tugging at your lips—especially when you met his eyes and seen the lustrous look in them. 

only once you coughed to gather his attention did he meet your eyes again, a pink hue creeping across his cheeks. 

“sorry what’d you say?”

a flurry of embarrassment pooled in his belly, which seemed odd to him. he never got embarrassed from things like this, but with you it was different. 

everything was different. 

you made him feel different in every capacity of the word, you made him feel special— even if you hadn’t taken whatever it was between yous further than lingering glances. 

“i asked why my dad sent you to come looking for me”

you repeated, taking another hit from the cigarette before stubbing it out. exhaling slowly and waving your hand in front of your face to make the smoke disperse quickly. 

he nodded, hand scratching at his beard once more before he replied. 

“well he didn’t really, i offered to”

he shrugged, his words having a smirk toying at your lips as you flashed him a ‘really?’ look. 

the admission had a flurry of glee shooting through you, turning to face him properly. 

“and why would you do that?”

the question had him almost shying away, the admission of his feelings dancing on the tip of his tongue. 

a look of the longing you had for him shone in his eyes, and it had a thrill of confidence run through you. wanting to try and pry what you assumed he felt out of him. 

“is there something you’d like to tell me?”

you inquired, and you noticed as he swallowed hard. his adam’s apple bobbing before he averted his gaze, causing your smile to widen. 

chiming in before he could stumble over the words he so desperately wanted to admit to you. 

“because there might be something i want to tell you, ‘long as you don’t tell my dad”

as long as he doesn’t tell your dad? that had him more intrigued. 

he gulped, running both hands down his face before meeting your eyes. everything in him screaming to look away and go back inside, but his heart wanted to know if you felt the same way. 

“promise love”

there it was, one of the many names he’d called you that sent heat shooting through your body. 

your smirk faded into a smile, mumbling out — in what you could only describe as an attempt to ensure no one else heard, despite it only being the two of you. 

“i like you, fancy you even”

you admitted, a weight feeling as if it had just been lifted from your shoulders. you watched the way his eyes widened, before a look of relief washed over him. 

but it didn’t stop the insecurities that washed over him. 

“why? i mean, you could do so much better than me”

you frowned at the words, because they didn’t make sense. for as long as you could remember you’ve had a crush on him, he’s all you’d wanted for ages now. 

reaching out you took his hands into yours, much to his reluctance. you stood from the crate and moved to stand between his legs, one finger hooking under his chin to tilt his head up to you. 

despite everything inside him screaming at him to stop this, to pull away— he couldn’t. it was as if was frozen in place, unable to do anything than follow your lead so willingly. 

“only want you, have only ever wanted you”

the pull between you both tugged tighter, a string woven tightly around you and keeping you like this. 

“fuckin’ killing me sweetheart”

he groaned in frustration, dropping his head to rest against your stomach. a flurry of butterflies batting against your insides where his head rested, hand lifting to take your fingers through his hair. 

“can i kiss you?”

your voice was soft, barely a whisper but he lifted his head anyways. eyes meeting and another flash of insecurity rushing through his eyes, shaking his head before he sighed. 

continuing to brush your fingers through his hair as he mumbled out in response. 

“we shouldn’t love”

which made you frown, untangling your fingers from his hair and taking a step back. 

you knew it was a logical response, you really shouldn’t. he was your dad’s best friend after all, but the pull between you both kept the feelings you clinging onto the possibility of a chance with him. 

“..do you not want to?”

you asked hesitantly, embarrassed even. you weren’t entirely sure what you were feeling. but you did know, that deep down you still wanted him. 

“yeah, i want to, but… wouldn’t it be weird?”

a sigh fell from your lips, before he sighed too. standing from his own crate and cradling your face in both of your hands, your breath fanning across his face from your closeness. 

“only weird if we make it”

you whispered out, which made him chuckle. resting his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering shut. 

on one hand, he wanted to give in. everything in him wanted to give in and kiss you. but on the other hand, it felt wrong. you were his best friends daughter, he shouldn’t. 

yet he wanted to. 

he waited a beat before capturing your lips with his, the kiss deep as he poured all of his emotions into it. 

you stumbled back a little, but he pulled you against his chest. left hand falling to your hip to hold you steady, dopey grin tugging at your lips as you whispered out to him again. 

“do that again”

he shook his head at you but obliged, kissing you with just as much intensity as the first time. 

both of his hands rested on your hips as he continued to kiss you, one hand squeezed at your hip which made you gasp. allowing his tongue to push into your mouth and tangle with yours, drawing a breathy moan from your throat. 

the kiss continued for a minute before he pulled back, with an equally blissed look on his face to yours. 

“you’ll be the death of me sweetheart”

he drawled out, accent slightly thicker which always seemed to make you swoon even more. 

you leaned in to kiss him again, your arms going around his neck and wrists crossing at the back of his head while you whispered out against his lips again. 

“least you’ll die a happy man now”

⋆˚࿔ reblogs are highly appreciated 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[lostintransist]

Secrets Are For Grown Ups | Part 6

Part 1 can be found here. AO3

Shout out to @xbirdiex

Saturday moved with ease, John and Nyla joined you in taking the boys to the planetarium and lunch before dropping by the park for the regularly scheduled play date with other neighborhood kids.

Nyla stretched upon climbing out of your van. The ride from downtown to the park closest to your house had taken much longer than expected. There were several accidents on the freeway that delayed you by nearly an hour.

“I’ll be taken myself on a walk, you youngin’s watch the bairns.” With that, she strode with purpose on the path that circled the park.

The boys released themselves from their seats and took off screaming like only a seven-year-old can. Sharing a look with John you grab your park blanket from the back before locking the van.

John rubbed the back of his neck; he had been stuck in the back with the boys who talked the entirety of the car ride.

“They sure do have a lot of energy.”

Laughing you lead the way to a relatively flat spot of grass and lay out your blanket.

“They sure do. If you can believe it this is less energy than they used to have.”

Aghast John stares at you deep concern etched between his brows. It triggered a whole ‘nother round of laughter. Wiping your eyes free of the joyful tears you go on to explain.

“Toddlers have more energy but fewer words and are arguably much harder to care for. They are attracted to death, finding things that can kill them everywhere.”

“How did you manage?” He glances from you to the children crawling over the park equipment like ants over a corpse.

“Larsen mostly.” You smile softly thinking of your best friend.

John leans back on his hands, crossing his feet at the ankles.

“Tell me about him?”

“Larsen?” You question, surprised.

“Mom!” Mac comes racing up to you, “There is a kid that is throwing bark at people.”

“Okay, is he still doing it or did his grown-up take care of the problem?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, so it sounds like it has been taken care of right?” You lift a brow in conjunction with your question.

“Yeah,” Mac nods once before taking off at the same speed he arrived.

Blowing out a breath you glance to John and roll your eyes about your child’s antics.

“What do you want to know about Larsen?”

“Let’s start at the beginning, how did you meet?”

You can’t help the smile that blooms across your face.

“We met in second grade, about the same age the boys are now. We became the best of friends and were thick as thieves. Larsen lived outside the boundaries of our school but his parents used one of his grandparent’s addresses to get him into a ‘better school’.” You roll your eyes at that but continue. “We stayed friends all through school. He was my best friend. So many people in high school thought we were dating. Made it so hard to get a boyfriend.”

John laughed at the bitter cast to your voice. “Seems like it turned out well for you though.”

Canting your head side to side you decide how to explain.

“Larsen didn’t like the idea of romantic love; never had a partner because of it. When I got the news I was pregnant he was my first call.” You chuckle at the memory now, “I told him everything that had happened and you know what my best friend did? He offered to marry me over the phone.”

You pause your tale to yell at Jace to get down, the outside of the equipment is not meant for playing.

Picking up the story where you had left it you continue, “I said yes, obviously. He was the best partner I could have asked for. You are staying in his old room actually. We didn’t have a conventional marriage but he loved the boys fiercely; said he would be their father before anything else in his life. Damn man nearly passed out during delivery though.”

The memory still makes you smile, both your mom and Larsen’s had come to help with delivery. He didn’t even hold a leg as you pushed out the boys but one glance at your nether regions and the blood gushing from your vagina had him pale and had his mom shoving him into a chair with a ‘you are not going to pass out, we are all busy right now.’ The midwife team had laughed at that with you as you laughed out Jace. Mac had already been whisked away to get cleaned up.

“He sounds like a good man, the boys talk about him sometimes,” John is contemplative in his tone.

You curl your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and resting your chin down too.

“His death shocked us all. He had an aneurysm at work, gone before the paramedics arrived.”

“Not a bad way to go all things considered,” John mused aloud.

“Noah MacTavish! Get down now!” Mac makes a guilty face as he is caught scaling the play structure. “No, it could have been worse. He left us with a healthy chunk of life insurance and because he passed at work we got all the life insurance money from that fiasco. I paid off the house and invested the rest. I opened my cake decorating business within a few months of his passing to pay for our daily expenses, got all three of us in therapy, and then the boys started Kindergarten soon after. Larsen’s mom, Crystal, and my mom both stepped up in amazing ways.”

John is looking at you when you glance his way, the depth in his gaze sends shivers across your skin. The last time you had seen that look on his face had been in the weeks you were avoiding Simon on base. A deep contemplation as he mulled over his thoughts, you thought even then that it made him more attractive than should be reasonable.

Turning back to watch the boys you finish your thought.

“They both take the boys one day a week for a few hours so I have time to clean house or make deliveries or go to the doctor without an entourage.”

“Now Nyla is here and hopefully soon they will have more people to share the load,” John whistled, the sharp sound had both boys stopping their poor choices.

Speaking of Nyla caused her appearance avoiding the need for you to reply that you didn’t know if Simon and Johnny would want to be involved.

The boys played for a while longer before the three adults hustled them into the car and home for dinner.

Sunday morning saw you waking early with the boys, feeding them before sending them off to play in the backyard. Nyla and John were both able to sleep later than the six am wake-up you had.

Nearing nine am, Jace tore in through the back door as you work on the cake due today. He is holding his groin, a face of slight panic as he busts into the downstairs bathroom. You don’t remember the problem with him using that toilet until John’s startled voice sounds from the open door.

“Hello?”

“I have to go potty,” comes Jace’s quick reply.

“Ah.”

“Does your penis ever get stuck in your clothes?”

Oh no, now they are having a shower conversation. All of your focus is on the sounds drifting from the now-open door.

“Sometimes it does kiddo.”

Fuck. How do you deal with this? Jace will be done soon and John should have locked the door.

“Huh. Okay.” The toilet lid slams and you can hear Jace washing his hands before he reappears to go back to playing.

Now the question is, do you flush the toilet and shut the door? Yes. John deserved to shower in peace. As you reach the door you announce yourself.

“Don’t mind me, I am just going to take care of the step Jace missed.”

“Thanks, dove,” John’s voice drifts down over the shower curtain and you stop yourself from imagining anything that might join that thought.

“I am also going to lock the door so Mac doesn’t do the same thing to you.” Flushing the toilet you step back out of the room. John laughs as you lock the door and pull it shut tight.

Turning you find Nyla looking at you all concerned. By way of explanation, you say, “Jace busted in on John.”

She laughs with you at the absurdity of the situation and follows you back into the kitchen as you wash your hands and prepare to keep decorating a cake for a teenage birthday order. Their parent would be coming by in two hours for their delivery.

“I am going to visit with my boys.”

Your stomach tightened painfully at those words. The small smile you give her doesn’t mask the tension in your body. She pulls you into a motherly side hug, touching her head to yours before wandering from the kitchen. The front door opens and closes in near tandem with John stepping from the bathroom.

Fully clothed, steam billows around him as he shoves a bundle of clothes under one arm.

“That cake is the ugliest set of colors I have ever seen,” his brows nearly touch as he stares at the orange monstrosity sitting atop your counter.

“Oh I know but it’s only going to get worse,” you grab another container filled with your homemade frosting and begin to whip in a pale mint color.

“Worse?” John moves into the kitchen and around the counter to look down into the bowl you are using your hand mixer on. “Is that some kind of green?”

“Mint, but yes. Kid is turning thirteen and their two favorite colors are orange and mint. Mom wanted to combine both on the cake. Sent me reference photos and everything.” Turning off the hand mixer you set it to the side and ready your piping bag for a transfer. “Any fun plans today?”

John moves back around the kitchen island and settles both himself and his bundle of clothes onto a chair.

“I have a few stops I need to make but then will be back around lunch.” He is watching you as you spin your piping bag and start to drape strings of mint icing along the edge of the cake.

“Okay my mom will be here soon for the boys,” you glance at John as you tell him why, “She likes to take them to church.”

He pulls a face as he mutters, “Lovely.”

“I feel the same but if it keeps the peace and means she will take them on a weeknight too, I will allow it for now. I will probably use the time they are gone to deep clean the house before Simon and Johnny come over tomorrow.”

A scream from the backyard has you checking out the kitchen window to confirm no broken bones or blood, finding none you shift back to what you are doing.

“Do you clean because you’re stressed or because they are going to see more than the front room?” John lightly tapped his fingers against the counter, the sound barely traveling to your ears.

Sticking your tongue out in lieu of an answer John laughs. He rises as the knock sounds at the front door. Your mother comes in and chats with you a moment before collecting your boys who both give you a hug and a kiss before trailing out the door after grandma. John pokes his head into the kitchen to let you know he is leaving. And then you are alone.

Blasting music through the house you finish decorating, send a text to your client that she can pick up the cake any time before two pm, and set about cleaning the house. When Nyla reappears she jumps in by stripping all of the beds and starting the wash. By the time the boys and John appeared the house looked cleaner than it had been for Larsen’s wake. The scent of cleaning chemicals masked with lemon could be smelled in every room in the house.

Your pickup happens neatly at one, the mother gushing that the cake matches the vision and her kid is going to be so pleased. Nyla made sandwiches while you had finished cleaning the last bathroom. Sitting down at the table John announced that he would be sending both you and Nyla to a movie and then dinner.

“Are you sure you want to handle the boys?” They both grin up at you like innocent devils.

“We will have fun, won’t we boys?” John winks at them as they cheer.

At Nyla’s shrug, you accept the offer. A quick shower for yourself and the two of you were out the door, giggling at the thought of John managing the boys. The movie was your choice followed by Nyla’s pick of restaurant. Darkness had fallen by the time you both made your way through the garage and into the TV room.

Flung across the couch were three sleeping bodies. Jace slept sitting up against John. Mac rested his head against John’s thigh. John sat upright, head notched over the top of the couch and hands still gripping the controller for the game console that showed they had died again while playing Minecraft.

You lifted Jace first, fighting your way up the stairs with his body koala tight to you. Settling him in bed you turn and find a squinting John stepping into the room Mac wrapped around him. He settles your boy down with a gentle touch and even covers him to the chin with his blankets.

Waiting at the door, you pull it closed after John has slipped from the room.

“How were they tonight?” You whisper in the dark hallway.

“Good, we played board games, hide and seek, read some books, ate dinner, and then fell asleep playing video games.” His tone is even, steady beyond the sleep in his voice.

“Thanks for keeping them tonight John, it was nice to go out with Nyla.”

You can’t see what he does but his fingers find yours for one squeeze.

“They are good boys. I am happy to spend time with them and give you more time to get to know their grandmother,” he whispers back to you.

Tightening your fingers on his you fight the warm ball growing in your chest.

“Goodnight John.”

“Goodnight dove.”

A/N: The next chapter is The Talk™ 😬

Secrets Masterlist | Masterlist

@love-kha1 @sweetlike-sugarplum @vmaxis @splaterparty0-0 @momowhoo @talia-the-gemini @redkarmakai @aethelwyneleigh27 @asexualbuthorny @sleep101 @callsignbumblebee @lucienofthelakes

[icarusredwings]

Papi....Stay.

Old Man Logan x 'Papa' reader.

Post Logan movie fic.

Ft. Little Laura, Dad Logan, messy flashbacks, and woods Logan.

For @stucky-just-stucky

Cw: Blood, guns, nightmares, violence, cursing, mutant discrimination, bad spanish, forgive me. 

The Night is young. The moon isn't out. The depth in which the stars cover is barren, leaving the sky bare of any light at all. 

The porch light to your cabin is on. Just a small humble home. Secluded. 

Ever since the mutant hunts, you didn't trust going into town much. Besides, Things were quieter out here. You liked the silence And preferred the natural white noise over any automatics that might try to sway your persuasions. 

The crickets chirp, Owls hoot, mice squeak, the deer make small crunching noises somewhere distant from your land. You actually bought this place because of the dense forest around it. It was nice. To have somewhere so enclosed and hidden. 

The snow drops into a pan left out for the stray dog that's been spotted in the area. At least... that's what you thought. A harsh breeze blowing in your hair. 

A fox screams in the distance. The birds do not sing. No one sings anymore. It is silent. A deafening silence that made you swallow as you peak into your back yard with a grunt. 

Was the bear back? The bastard had taken plenty of your rabbits and honestly you were getting quite fed up with it. You would starve if the greedy asshole kept stealing your catch. 

You grunt, grabbing your gun, loading it. Kicking the back door open, There, the beast was standing, trying to undo the snare once again. Turning, it's eyes were different though, bright and reflective like a moutian lions. 

Gasping, You tumble back, falling onto your ass. 

The gun shot echos through the snow covered mountains. There's a growl. The animal that lurches forward snarls, a sound of knives unsheathing as you curl up, pushing the barrel against the bears strengh. 

He tries to take your gun, and out of panic you're able to cock it again, blowing his fucking brains out. 

Panting, you scramble backwards, wondering what in gods name has gotten into the animals around here when suddenly, you realize.. that's not a bear. 

You scream, it's blood curling and the sob that follows is similar. "Oh- FUCK!" You curse, dropping back to your knees as you pull the fur off his back, trying to use it to stop the bleeding.

"Oh, fuck fuck fuck fuck!!" You yell, crying to yourself. "Shit!! Oh yeah, great! You just had to go and SHOOT a guy didn't you!? God youre such a fucking IDIOT!" You scold yourself. 

But then there's a groan. A heavy grumble of pain, a small double 'tnk... tnk' as you watch the shells fall out of his forehead, bloody and bent. 

"What in the-?" 

But that was a little over 10 years ago. When you dragged that heavy, bleeding man into your cabin. Wrapped up his head and laid him by the fire. Heated him up some soup and reloaded the gun again, terrified of what he was capable of. Terrified of what he might do to you. You've heard the goverment was getting serious about mutants, cracking down, tagging them like animals. 

A loud groan comes from him not even half an hour later, rubbing his head as he sits up, looking at the fire like it's the first time he's been warm in weeks. 

Staring at him with the gun pointed, You try to remain calm. But you reak of nervousness and anxiety. Anger and panic. 

"W-why didn't you die?" You had asked him, jumping forward slightly in attempts to scare him but he only scoffed. "You aren't gonna shoot me.." 

Your teeth grit, furrowing your brow. "Are you sure about that!? I already did once! Bl-blew your brains all over the snow! I'll do it again!" 

"Yeah.. about that.. that hurts. So stop it. You're just wasting your ammo." He grunts, shifting to pull the soup you left near him close, sniffing it, his nose crinkling. 

Swallowing, you can't help but feel intrigued. What was a guy like him doing out by himself? 

"Hey! You never awnsered my question! Why aint you dead!?" 

The man shrugged, sipping the hot broth. "Cursed at birth I guess." 

"Bullshit. Y-you're a mutant hunter! Aren't you? You got some weird tech in ya or something!" You say. Okay, looking back- maybe it was stupid to say seeing as you just saw this man pull knives from his hands. 

But that's when he laughed. A full gut busting laugh. It's genuine. 

It pisses you off. "Don't laugh at me! I saved you!" 

"You SHOT me!" He reiterates. 

"Yeah!... well.. maybe you shouldn't have been tryna steal my rabbits!!" You shout. 

You step backwards as he finishes the soup, standing. He looks around for a moment, then to you. You jerk towards him again but he dosn't flinch. "Wheres the sink?" 

"What?" 

"The sink. I'll just.. wash this off and get out of your hair. And I won't take your rabbits anymore. I Thought...I don't know what I thought actually. People come through these woods, set traps, and never check'em so I thought I could.." He trails off. 

You pause for a second, blinking, thinking about how quickly he scarfed down the entire bowl. 

You can't believe you're about to say this. But he didn't seem like a man that was too lazy to hunt, rather one that.. couldn't.. anymore. From the way he used his claws, you can tell that one day, he was a great hunter. But now his bones cracked and ached too much for that.

You look to the door, hearing the freezing wind howl as he stands here, hoping you wont notice the way hes warming his backside on the fire, gripping the warm bowl with bloodied hands. 

"...Would you like more?" 

The question makes him stare, weighing the opitions in his head. "....You gonna keep pointin' that thing at me if I say yes?" 

And that's how you met your husband. Funny story when you think about it. 

But now here he was. Gone for weeks and all he has to show for it is a kid. 

"Where have you been!? You said you were working! I called the limo company and they said you done went rouge!" You yell at the man who stood in your doorway, almost guilty looking. The same man who stood there, in a different cabin up north 10 years ago. 

Now you were down here in Mexico. Something about his father and how it would be better money for the two of you. He had specifically said it like that. He held you in his arms while you cried at the idea of leaving your home, "It'll be better for us." He promsied. 

"I think you mean better for You." You shove him away, crossing your arms as you watched Logan pile in your entire livelyhood into a small shitty truck. Everything else was left. Everything else was gone. 

Now you were warm all the time. Now it was hot. Too hot. Sticky. And it was difficult for you to breathe. You still weren't even sure why you had to come here other then the mutant hunters getting too frequent up north though now it was just as bad, if not worse down here. 

Sometimes you would remember the cold nights you would spend with him. How he'd pull the fur blankets up over you and hold you close, his hot breath and body being the only thing you need to keep warm. The nightmares didn't really bother you. No the grunting and the harsh twitching never upset you. You'd only rub his chest and shush him back to sleep. 

Stitching the bedsheets each morning howeber did get tedious. Not to mention him holding you by the throat.  Now that was a bit more of a problem. 

The first time it happened, his nightmares that is, you hadn't let him in your bed quite yet, no, that wasn't for a week. 7 days was all you could take before finally letting the puppy eyed old man into your bed. 

At first it started with him on the couch, shifting, rolling over, hiding, curling into the smallest of balls before exploding into a loud scream of anguish. He'd heave and pant, shake and cry. Though you didn't let him know you saw back then. You'd simply call. "Logan? You alright?" 

After a few minutes of hearing him yell. 

"Y-yeah! Just... it's nothin." He'd call back, and become silent, trying his damndest not to start destroying your home. With his hands together, and laws out, he'd sit right there on your couch, praying to his own body and mind to retract his claws and go back to sleep. 

By the 5th night, you got tired of hearing him get up and pace for 3 hours after his night terrors. It would drive you both mad soon enough. Lack of sleep did that to a man, so. You moved him to your bed. You already successfully got him out of the shed. How hard could it be? 

"Just for the night." You told him, sticking a pillow between the two of you. What? You couldn't let your house guest freeze to death. That's not very  good host etiquette, you thought, but before that he refused to even sleep in the house, staying out in the shed like a dog who prefered the snow. 

"No.. I can't. I have night terrors." He says, spitting these words as if saying skin burning acid seeped from his pores at night. As if sleeping next to him would immediately bring an end to your life. 

"Oh, please. Who cares if you see the boogieman in your dreams? Haven't we all?" You wave a hand dismissively. 

"You don't understand." He starts, as serious as a bad case of syphilis. "I can't control myself." 

"Excuse me!?" You had said, obviously thinking something much more wrong, only for his face to darken. "Not like that! Fuck.. I meant I..." He pops his claws to their full length, grunting as they bled. "I can't control them in my sleep." He says, 

Sounding like he'd cry just from the idea of slicing you open. 

"....that's why I sleep on the couch.." 

"Well... I truly hate these sheets anyway." The sweet smile you gave him then was all it took for him to grin, hesitantly climbing into your bed, back agaisnt you as you turn off the lamp. 

"Night, Logan." 

But there was only a loud snore in return, out before his head even hit the pillow. You wonder how long since he's slept in an actual bed... weeks? Months? 

Years? 

Ever since, He's been in your bed. Next to you where ever you slept, even if that meant on the couch. It was like he couldn't sleep now without your scent. It was cute really. He'd follow you around the cabin, come hunting with you, help you with chores. 

"I'm heading out soon. Don't worry about me." He'd say, washing his dishes like a domesticated house husband, drying off the bowl and putting it away like he's done it a thousand times. 

"Uh-huh." You'd say, sarcastically smirking with doubt because he said the same thing 2 weeks ago. 

"When you go into town, drop me off." He had said. And so you did. He got out of the beaten up truck, making a big deal out of the goodbye, lingering with nothing but the clothes on his back, a meal you forced him to take and an extra sweater that looked far better on him then you. 

"Erm... Bye." He had ended, slamming the door and stomped away. You could have sworn he was pouting, pissed at himself for actually going through with it. 

When you arrived home later that night, there he was. Standing in your doorway with this shamfully embaressed and guilty look.

"..I.. I forgot something." 

Scoffing, you smile. "Oh yeah? And what's that?" 

And that's when he kissed you. Stepping forward and grabbed your shoulders, kissing you like he needed you to breathe. "You." 

You wish you could say you hoped he did the same now, but you might punch him in the face if he did the same. 

"Haven't you a single thing to say for yourself!? Hm?? You left me! You promised you would never leave me without telling me! You promised you weren't like that!"

Logan only stands there, head lowered slightly and looking at you the exact same way. Fuck he hasn't changed at all. It's a rip in time the way he faces you. 

Guilt. Shame. Embaressed. 

"I didn't... I didn't mean to.. and I would never leave my family. That's.. that's not who I am anymore." 

"Oh yeah? You won't leave your family, huh?" You say, stepping closer, not afraid to get in his face as you point to the girl, gritting your teeth. 

"You left the mother of your child-"  

"Don't bring the girl into this." It's instant. A stern shout through his fangs tightened together, breathy and dark until he coughs, looking away as he coughs into his wrist. 

He was sick. You knew that. But you alredy vowed to spend the rest of your life with him. You already promised that you'd burry him in the yard at the old cabin and drink a whiskey for him each anniversary. Though right now you are far too angry to care. 

 

"Or what? You'll run off and not return to me for god only knows how many days? Go on! Go! Leave me. It's all you've ever been good for anyway!" 

"It's not like that -" 

"It's never like that, Logan! Or should I call you the Wolverine?" It's a venom you haven't spit in years. The way you say the old name is like a slur. 

Things are quiet. His brow softens. Like a dog who accidently got tok rough during play and its owner just kicked it away, called him a bad dog. 

"I can't believe this. 10 years. Ten FUCKING years since you gave up that life! For me! And now here you are!" Your voice strains, tightening. "For- for what? For me to find out that.. you broke your vows to me...?" 

He steps towards you, grabbing your waist and puts a hand behind your neck, kissing you. It's hard not to melt into those strong arms. You've missed their hold. Missed the scratchiness of his beard. Missed the soft growl in his voice. He was your husband after all. 

"She's a clone." He says, breaking away from the kiss of desperation, desperate for you to litsen. You always were a stubborn one.. maybe it's why you stayed so long. 

You shake your head. He's lying. He has to be. You look at the girl again who is awkwardly standing against the door frame, glaring at you, obviously more loyal to her father then anything else on this small ranch. 

You think about hitting him. He'd heal. You could crack him straight in the nose. Say something like 'thats what you get!' But you only ball your fist, keeping it there. No.. you wouldn't. Not with the girl there anyway. It's not her fault. None of this was. 

Besides. If this little girl was staying with you now, you would have to be a good rolemodel for her. And hitting her father (as much as he deserves it for disappearing on you) would only start you two off on the wrong foot. You could tell because her eyes did that thing your husbands did when ever extremely annoyed, when ever he was about to snap and claw someones face off. 

"No. Don't lie to me." You shake your head. You've heard about the testing centers but you didnt want to believe it. That your husband disappeared and then suddenly showed back up with a kid that he didn't need to cheat in order to have. It makes you a little jealous. You have been working for years to have kits stuffed into you despite not biologically being able to have them. And here, was the most gorgeous copy and paste, genetically his. But not yours. 

"I'm not. I wouldn't... I wouldn't do that. Not to you." He reassures you, his eyes bright with innocence. 

"..She's a clone?" You clairify, giving him a final chance to change his awnser. 

He nods. "Just found her.. i didn't.. I didnt mean to- If I would have known.." 

The hesitantcy in his voice, like he'd cry from the relief of being home, of getting to kiss what was his again. It all felt like too much. But you understand perfectly. 

"...what's her name?" 

He sucks in a deep breath, turning, not taking that hand off of your waist. "This is Laura. Laura.. this is my partner.. Don't hurt'em. Okay?" He taps his knuckles. "You see? No." And shook his head, trying to make it clear that there would be no stabbing of his mate. 

She shifts her gaze from her father to you, crossing her arms. 

"No le voy a llamar papi..." 

You sniffle, wiping your tears with a giggle.

Logan makes a face, grunting with reddend cheeks. "E-en ingles, Laura." He stutters, but you only grin.

"Está bien." You crouch down, slowly so not to spook her. Still though she backs up. 

"Laura.. ¿Quieres que sea mamá?" 

Blinking, your husband gives you a look, as if questioning when you picked this up. 

"What? We live on the border. And you're gone a lot. I needed someone to talk to other then the goats." You cross your arms, giving him a soft glare specifically on that 'You're gone a lot' part. 

"No..." Laura says as you both look at her. 

You frown slightly, but understand. She must have been through so much.. god.. you only hoped her temper was half your Husbands.. 

Then maybe you'd survive through puberty.. 

 

The girl grins, glad that she had someone to talk to in her native language. 

"Eres papá."

A small smile tugs at the corner of his salt and peppered lips. "Do you want to stay here? With Papa?"

She shakes her head, coming to take his hand, squeezing it tight.

"Papi.. Stay."

[cum-a-calla]

Roman shotgunning smoke into your mouth when you’re already way too high and greening the fuck out

The room doesn’t spin, it just… it’s not really the same. But it’s not really the room. It’s more your place in it, your physical presence inside of it. Both too small and too much. An invisible halo of fuzz and pressure seems to crown your head, and you laugh a little. It isn’t funny, not really - your heart beats hard, and if you closed your eyes, you could swear that the sound of it rushes in your ears. You could track those tiny little blood cells surging through your veins, follow one all the way through all those channels.

“What’s funny?”

Roman inhales next to you, and reality slams uncomfortably back into focus. He’s taken you up into some VIP lounge area in a club, bass thumping outside (and inside, and everywhere). Neon lights wash him in an alien shade of purple, of blue.

“Nothing,” you say, pulse racing. In the back of your mind, you wonder if you’re going to have a heart attack. You waver a little in your seat, watching him, everything in excruciatingly clear detail and fuzzy all at once. It’s like vibrating between two dimensions, or something; there’s a heaviness in your limbs that should feel comfortable, not suffocating.

Roman scoffs and takes another hit off his joint. It’s some intense shit, all wrapped in fancy papers and flecked with gold leaf. It was only a short while ago that he unwrapped it and lit up, and you’d laughed at how stupid it looked, how needlessly edgy it is to sprinkle gold leaf anywhere near a fucking joint. Now? Now you can barely keep a train of thought going, mind wandering everywhere, nowhere, all at once.

“Well, you laughed, so… something must have. You know. Tickled you a little.” Roman smirks and lifts his eyebrows suggestively, offering you the joint. You shake your head immediately, forcing a little smile. God, you’re fucking high. “Aw, come on - don’t pussy out on me now.”

“I don’t mean to,” you laugh, waving it away. “I just… I’m fucking… blasted right now. I - I’m barely holding it together, honestly.”

“Yeah?” His voice dips a little, regarding you for a moment as he leans back in the seat, a cushiony booth that lines the wall. He gestures to himself, rubbing his thigh invitingly. Settling in. “C’mon. Hop on.”

When you laugh uncomfortably in response, he blows a stream of smoke gently into your face, smirking again, eyes hooded.

“I’m not gunna fuckin’… just - stop being so fuckin’ lame. Get in here. Sit on Daddy’s lap.”

You’re aware enough to roll your eyes, but reluctantly, you follow his suggestion. You carefully straddle his thighs, his eyes burning into you the entire time, hands settling familiar and heavy on your thighs. The joint sits between two of his outstretched fingers, the tip smoldering. It’s the only thing in the room not washed in purples and blues, a bright, angry red. Roman takes your chin and brings your attention back to him, holding your gaze.

“I’m just…” You stare at him, studying his face. He’s so utterly gorgeous - the line of his nose, his eyes glinting an unreal green in the room. Is that something with the lights? Are they always so vivid and bright? They dance off the sharp, high cheekbones, the hollows underneath them. You visually trace those curves, and it’s almost like caressing them. You can practically feel his stubble against your lips, if you focus hard enough, the curve of his jaw. The lines etched in his brow, around his eyes when he smiles, the lines around his mouth. The tender little curve of his cupid’s bow. His lips… God, his lips are so -

“You’re just…?” Roman interrupts, lifting his eyebrows. He smiles in a way that makes you feel stupid, and you flush, hiding your face behind your hands. Closing your eyes makes it worse - the world disappears, no visual cues to keep you tethered. It feels like floating, the only real solid contact being Roman’s thighs, the warm length in his slacks. Roman laughs and pulls your wrists tenderly apart, grip forgiving but firm. “Hey - come on. What? What’s up?”

“I’m just… way too high,” you admit with a barely-there laugh. Roman’s smirk melts into a smile, but it’s not one that reaches his eyes. His eyes go dark, little shadows dancing somewhere back there.

“Oh yeah?” He asks softly. Tenderly. He pulls deep from his joint, shifting and jostling you as he sits up a little straighter. He takes your jaw and looks at your mouth, holding his breath. “Open.”

You shake your head, but his fingers dig in tighter, nodding at you, urging you. When you still won’t comply, he trails that hand firmly to the back of your neck, pulling you in. His lips feel even better than they look - warm, soft, his tongue against yours, and then - and then he’s knotting his fingers in your hair, forcing smoke steadily into your lungs. You press your hands to his shoulders but he’s got an iron grip, releasing only once you’ve taken a lungful of his breath into yours, and you cough on the exhale. Smoke comes out in a light little cloud, but you harsh out all the same. Panic pumps icily into your veins and there it is again, your loud, horrifyingly strong heartbeat, everywhere, making you dizzy. Roman’s lips curve into a lopsided, cruel smile, satisfied. He rolls his hips just slightly, just enough to grind his cock against you.

You’re fucked.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he soothes, rubbing his hands up your thigh, thumb tracing lines of fire just on the inside. He takes another deep, impossible drag from the joint, killing it. He ashes it on the fabric of your jeans, over your thigh, until it burns a hole there and has you crying out in pain - he holds you down against him, forcing you to take it as he holds his breath. He flicks the butt across the room and lifts his head once more, making you look at him. He nods, pulling you close. “Again,” he murmurs.

[dckweed]

ROSIE!, alpha!simon riley x omega reader

in which captain price sends alpha simon on a much needed vacation to his secluded countryside cabin, but leaves out a most important detail- he has a live in omega caretaker to care for his little cabin when he’s away! and she’s the prettiest, sweetest little thing that simon ever did see..

warnings: alpha/omega universe, mentions/depictions of abuse, smut, pregnancy, kind of forced proximity?, ill add as i go...please note that i know NOTHING about COD but i am in love with the 141 guys and this has been rotting in my brain. abuse is depicted in this one right off the bat,ptsd/nightmares, panty sniffing, face sitting, over stim, biting, squirting, i think our wolf just hates us okay? because everytime i write her, she comes out so mean.

please click this link! each click helps me earn some extra money, as well as each person that clicks the link and signs up (its completely free, and takes 0 time), a completely harmless way to earn some extra cash that doesn't involve giving me any of your own!

happy new years :) feel free to send thots/ideas to my inbox for these babes (or even for the other 141 fellas)

series masterlist here.

PART THREE: hurts si’

“You dumb bitch, look what you did!” Glass clattered and a hand made contact with your face, causing something to drop from your hands as they flew to your face for protection, a whimper leaving your puckered lips as sharp shards scatter about the ground and imbed in the skin of your legs, stinging. “Are you fuckin’ dropping shit now? Huh?” Another blow, this one landing on your ear, causing it to ring and your eyes to blur for a moment as you wobbled on the balls of your feet, swaying from side to side. The man yelling at you was larger than you, older. His breath was hot and sour as he screamed in your face, his words sounding a million miles away as you tried to focus. What had you done this time? It wasn’t you that had knocked over the glass of water..you weren’t even near that side of the table..it was all your brother, all the boy who sat and watched as your father threatened to beat you black and blue again for something that you didn’t do. 

The ringing becomes too much, you fall to your knees and groan, head pounding and eyesight blurry, you barely notice the shards of whatever dish had fallen from your hands pushing further into the skin of your shins as you sink to the rough wood floor of the kitchen. 

“...OFF THE FUCKING FLOOR, OMEGA!” He screamed, your hearing seeming to come back around, or maybe he just bellowed loud enough to overpower the ringing..you shook violently, fear and pain ringing through your body as he grabbed you by the hair on your scalp, dragging you across the ground, pushing the sharp bits of glass deeper into your skin..you would have to go digging to get them out now..

“No!NO! Papa, Papa please!” Your voice was frantic, shrill eyes wide as they finally focused enough to comprehend where he was pulling you off to, the familiar dingey wooden door of your own personal hell hole coming into sight. You’d only just been allowed out after..you couldn’t even remember how long..long enough that the days blurred together and you couldn’t tell how many tomorrows had come and passed. “No! I’ll be good, i’ll be good!” You clawed at his arm above you, trying desperately to pry his alpha strength off of your head, kicking your legs in an effort to slow him down, to buy yourself enough time to talk him out of it. 

“There’s no such thing as a good Omega, you’re living proof!” He growls, throwing open the deadbolt to the door before swinging it open. The darkness awaiting you seemed thicker than usual. “You all deserve to be punished! To be hid, to be locked away and never looked at again! You deserve to be treated like the runts and vermin you fucking are! Your mother tricked me into thinking that she was sweet and innocent, that she needed me to protect her, to fill her with little alpha pups, and then she gave me you! And then you killed her when you breathed life and stole hers, and i saw you for what you are, nothing but a conniving, evil monster!” He held your hair tightly at the top of the stairs, forcing you to look up into his eyes as he ranted at you, for something that you didn’t even remember. Weren’t capable of remembering..

He raised you off of your feet and your eyes widened, a shrill plea leaving your chest “NO, NO! N-AHHGH!”

Simon lay in bed, hands balled into fists behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, the moon dancing across it as it shined through his window, jaw clenched as he listened to you whimper and moan through the thin wall separating your room from his. His senses were on high alert, his wolf haywire in his mind. It took every ounce of self control he had not to jerk off to the smell of you, once he started he knows he probably wouldn’t ever stop, not until he’d had the real thing and not just the thought of you. He knew that his cock was probably going to be perpetually hard now, never going to go down until he’d stuffed the meaty length of it into your sweet smelling cunt, not until he’d fucked it good and stuffed it full of his pups would he even be able to think like a normal alpha again. 

The smell of you was intoxicating. It flooded his senses and over powered his mind. You were sweet smelling, decadent he could even say. He had noted it before you’d been in heat but now that you were, even in just the beginning stages, it was more powerful, more endearing and mouth watering. It was enough to make a man forget how to behave. It was enough to drive an Alpha into delirium, to trigger his own rut. 

He grit his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to think about anything other than you, shoving a knife into someone's chest, pizza and a cheap pint, johnny- no! Not that scottish prick! His wolf howled and he grunted, fisting his own hair just to feel something to keep himself grounded. Johnny wouldn’t shut his trap, his intrusive thoughts and his lack of a thought process allowing him to just blurt out how good you smelled, he could just hear his voice in his head, could hear him “Bet that lit’le cunt is nie’ n warm, wet ‘n sloppy, eh LT? Smells like a fookin’ dream..” He was just shooting up in bed with a growl at imaginary Johnny when your scream pierced his ears, his bedroom door slammed against the wall, ricocheting as he busted through yours after flying down the hallway, practically ripping it off of its hinges. He looked around wildly, looking for any sign of an intruder, ready to fight off some stray Alpha or Beta that might have followed your pheromones from town in hopes of mating and breeding you against your will in the middle of the night. 

He saw nobody, saw nothing but you thrashing wildly in the middle of the king sized bed you had built your nest upon, spotting the hoodie he’d shrugged off of his body and laid in the middle of your spot while you took a hot bath earlier in the day, satisfied that he could leave you alone with something to scent to help calm you down. He had paid enough attention in Omega anatomy class to remember that that was something that you guys craved, and just the scent of a strong Alpha could help ease the pain wrought by your heat. You were in pain, he decided, that was why you had screamed as you had, there was nothing for him to protect you from, nothing for him to keep you safe from in your vulnerable state. 

He had just wrestled his wolf back from the forefront of his mind and was slowly backing away from your bed and back towards the hallway when you let loose another scream, this one was one of pure terror. You were sat straight up in bed, his fight or flight triggered, he throws himself at you, wrapping his arms around you as he throws you back down, tucking you into his body as he looses a mean growl, baring his teeth as he looked all about, trying to find what you were so terrified of. 

“No!NO!” You screamed, thrashing and bucking under him, your eyes squeezed shut. He looks down at you, wolf going crazy. “Help her! HELP HER YOU BIG DUMB OAF CAN’T YOU SEE SHE’S SCARED?!” His wolf whimpered, howled, only making Simon’s heart race more as he tried to form a coherent thought. 

“Rosie..” He grunted, patting your face lightly,  still clutching you to his body as best as he could, legs on either side of you as he hovered over you on the bed. “Rosie, lovie, wake up-wake up, lovie..” He patted your face, again, a little harder this time and your eyes finally fluttered, looking up at him. 

“S’mon?” You whispered, hands clutching the chest of his tank top from where your arms were trapped between the both of your bodies, unable to move with his weight pressed against yours. “Had a bad dream..”

He sighs, head leaning down so his forehead is touching yours, noses brushing against each other. “I know, lovie, i know.” He says after a moment, shifting his body so that you’re laying on top of him, using his chest and shoulders as a pillow, legs entwined with his own. All thoughts of breeding you gone and out the window for now, his only thought and instinct to keep you safe. “Not goin’ anywhere okay? Gonna stay right 

‘ere an’ keep you safe..” 

And he did, letting you doze back off on top of him, his mind still reeling as he tried to imagine exactly what had happened in that head of yours to make you scream with such terror, to have you so scared that he could feel your body shaking. He wanted, no he needed to know so that he could make sure you were never scared of it again. So he could take it and obliterate it for ever making you feel anything but safe under the same roof as him. 

Eventually, his wolf and his mind calmed down and he was able to lull himself into a light sleep of his own, his arms not moving from around you. 

You wake to a warmth spread from your head to your toes, a dampness to your skin that had you wriggling out of your sleep shirt with eyes closed still, not registering the soft body beneath you until you went to plop your head back down and it didn’t sink into the soft down of your pillow, but the scraggly hairs of a muscular, wide chest that was poking out of the top of a gray tank top, the kind a man would wear under his tshirt if he wanted the extra layers, or sleep in, you supposed. You knew immediately that it was Simon and as if on cue your wolf fought her way to to the front of your mind, your aching cunt clenching around nothing but your sopping panties as you realized that your mound wasn’t too far from where his cock would be, your leg thrown over his waist, held there by one of his large, meaty hands gripping your equally meaty thigh. 

“Look at him, our pretty Alpha..so handsome, so strong..” She wasn’t wrong, he was pretty. His skull mask was nowhere to be found, and to say it was strange to not see it adorned on his face would be an understatement, but it wasn’t unwelcomed. “Want to give him pretty little pups, let him fill us, please, please, please! I’ll be so good! I promise!” You groan, trying to shut her voice out, though it was hard to do. At this stage, your mind belonged to her, this was her time, and you had always let it be, but you hadn’t had an Alpha home during your heat in..awhile. 

You let your eyes roam over his face for a while, failing to notice the way his breathing changes as he fully wakes up, aware of your gaze. He has such a strong jaw, a strong, handsome face, sweet looking even, you would say, despite the scars lingering along his pale skin. Your lips quiver at the realization that someone had probably put them there and that thought alone made you want to cry because how could anyone ever want to hurt this perfect specimen of an alpha? His nose is terribly crooked, as if it had been broken on more than one occasion..you would know, yours had been broken at least three times that you remembered. You wanted to sit on it. To feel his nose brush against your aching, throbbing clit, to feel his scruff of a beard that had grown over night against the apex of your thighs, leaving beard burn as he fucks you with his wet, strong tongue. 

You don’t notice that your hips are bucking against the side of his hard stomach, don’t realize you’ve whimpered until his hand squeezes your thigh, fingers marking the skin from the way that he grips at it, brown eyes suddenly shot open and staring you down, full lips tugged into a wicked smirk. 

“Easy there, babygirl..” He grunts, voice thick and raspy after not having used it for a bit. 

You pout at his words,  wolf whimpering. The desperate noise leaves your throat and you feel no shame as your hips buck again, needing the friction. 

“Hurts Si’..” You whimper, not giving a damn to ask why he was in your bed in the first place. You remembered having a nightmare, remembered him vaguely waking you from it. You assume he had stayed to make sure you were okay. “Need you..need you to help me, Simon..please?” 

He closes his own eyes at your words, fingers digging further into the fat of your thigh, as if he’s trying to control himself. You don’t want him to, you want hm to lose control, to use you in any way he saw fit, you wouldn’t fight him, would be as pliable for him as you could possibly be, you just wanted to breathe in his scent, suck his cock into your aching pussy for a bit..like a chew toy for the wolf taking over your mind. 

You can’t help but to giggle for a second at the thought, you couldn’t help but to think that his cock was probably big enough to pose as a chew toy anyway, no way you could get your mouth all the way around it if he let suck it. 

“Rosi-”

“Simonnn” You preen, pouting at him and you can just feel the resolve break. Oh! What a good Alpha, not making us beg! “Please help me..hurts..need you so bad..please!”

A growl bubbles in his chest and you could how in excitement knowing you’ve won, “Fine!” Knowing he’s about to bully his cock into your cunt until he’s had his fill, until you’re crying and begging him for more, until he’s knocked you up good with one of his little blonde pups- “But i’m not going to fuck you,” A whine as you pout and you watch his eyes widen, watch him fight with himself for a second as he shakes his head, as if shutting up that voice that you  know he hears too. “No-don’t do that babygirl..You listen to me now.” The sternness in his voice catches your attention, your cunt pulsing at the way it radiates through you. “I want to fuck you so bad, lovie, want to sit you on my cock for fuckin’ hours, believe me, it’s all ‘ve been able to think about since I walked into that garden..but I can’t do it when you’re not all the way there, when you’re delirious in heat..” A pout that damn near breaks him, that definitely breaks the wolf in his head, howling ricocheting in his ears as he tries to talk. “I’m going to fuck you, lovie, but not until your heat is done, yeah? Don’t worry babygirl, m’still gonna help you though, know it hurts, baby, know you need my help..” 

You hadn’t realized he had bunched the waistband of your panties in his hand until then, letting go of your thigh to pull at the seam of the fabric, ripping it apart and tugging it from your mound. You watch with wide eyes as he brings the soaked cotton to his crooked nose, closing his eyes as he takes a long sniff, a deep growl radiating through the room as he opens his eyes, staring straight into yours as his fist clenches around your panties. 

“Cm’ere, babygirl.” He grunts, pulling at you so that you’re sitting directly on his chest, pussy leaving a wet swatch in his chest hairs as he squeezes both hips. “Wanna sit on my face, don’t you? Saw the way you were looking at me, know just what you were thinkin’ huh?” You nod your head, but make no move to actually do it. You’re so big? What if you suffocate him? Bitch shut the fuck up and let him eat your fucking pussy, you whiney brat! He’s a big boy, he can fucking take it! You had the random thought that your wolf might actually try and kill you if you didn’t let her enjoy this, if you didn’t swallow your self conscious thoughts and let this glorious man eat you for breakfast. “Aht-aht, stop thinking whatever it is you’re thinking-” He pulls your hips so you’re sitting just below his neck now, your hands immediately catching yourself on the headboard, preventing him from pulling you up past his chin. He narrows his eyes at you, you see him shake his head, the firm line his plus lips are set in. A warning to behave and let him be in control. “Don’t-you want this, don’t you..want me to help you? Need me to make it better?” 

“Pleas-ungh” In a show of pure strength, he has you fully sat on his face before you can finish the word, warm, thick tongue devouring you as swirls it around your clit, you can’t help the rock of your hips or the way your head throws back as you moan when his tongue teases your aching whole, nose rubbing against your clit the way you imagined it when you tilted your hips. 

He groans beneath you, hands splayed on your bare ass cheeks, holding you in place as he grips so hard you’re sure his fingerprints will be permanently indented into your skin, not that you think you’d really mind it. “That’s it lovie, ride my face..”

You didn’t have to be told twice now that you had started. The way his tongue worked you open, the way he held you in place but still let you rut your hips against his face, making a slimy, glistening mess..his stubble brushed against your inner thighs, keeping you grounded from coming on the spot, though it doesn’t last for long. He’s got you coming within moments, skilled tongue going between clit and your pulsing hole, giving you what you needed as you rocked back and forth, taking what you wanted. “Tha’s a good girl, lovie..give me one more?” 

You’re not sure how many ‘one more’s’ you give him, but by the time he’s got you on the brink of over stimulation, he’s got his whole tongue buried in your hole, his teeth nibbling at your clit as you buck and tremble, tears brimming your eyes as you grip his hair in each hand, tugging harshly. His hands pushed up your shirt, exposing your soft, pudgy belly to him as he squeezed your tits in each of his large palms, fingers playing with your nipples as he fucks you with his mouth, cries and whimpers leaving your own. 

“Si-oh-mm, please! I can-so good, feel’s so good!” You’re a babbling mess, cheeks red as your thighs shake, still clenched around his head. He’s been at it for almost an hour and you swear he’s barely come up from air, he’s barely let you move off of his face for more than a moment, his mouth leaving your cunt only to praise you or bite into meat of your thighs, leaving a harsh imprint of his mouth, a reminder that this is in fact real. You’re on the brink of another when you realize that this one feels different, feels almost painful, even. “Si-mo-n, si-ugh-umf..hur-urts…” You screech out, swatting at the top of his head, he only grunts, pulling you down farther onto his mouth, his hands going back to grip your tighs, leaving your precious tits unattended as he does, holding you there as he brings another harsh bite to your clit, sending you over the edge. “Simon!” You shout, vision going blurry as something snaps in your lower belly, a gush of fluid coming from your cunt that has your cheeks heating as Simon groans out below you, lapping it up as quickly as it comes out, slurping even as he continues to make out with your pussy as you slouch against the headboard, being sure to avoid your overly sensitive clit as he does, leaving open mouthed kisses to your mound that honestly could have had you coming again if you weren’t entirely fucked out just from his mouth. How many was that? Five? Six? 

“You okay up there babygirl?” His voice is thick and raspy, sexy as he peeks up at you from between your still shaking legs. All you can do is nod meekly, unsure of what to say, mind oddly quiet as you pant out breaths, trying to come down from such an epic high. “Squirted al’over me lovie, legs are still shakin’” He’s chuckling at you, big warm hands rubbing your thighs in an effort to soothe the shaking. 

“M’sleepy, si’” You whimper out, still sagged against the headboard, mind gone numb, legs gone soft, heat and wolf satiated for the time being. 

“Yeah?” He asks, voice soft as he sits up slowly, sliding you down his body. Your clit catches on his chest hairs and the fabric of his now soaked tank top on the way down and your hips jumps, your whimper ringing out as he shushes you, rubbing soothing circles on your lower back. “Need’ta nap baby?” 

Your eyes are already closing before you can get the words out, before you can even nod your head, you barely register the way his lips kiss the side of your head as he leans back with you in his arms, the way his scent floods your senses, easing you into an easy slumber, as if that had been his plan all along. The last thing you remember before sleep takes you completely is wondering what the hell you had gotten yourself into with him..

taglist: @wise-owl @bingoz @astrxsee @gazsluckyhat @howlerwolfmax @thisbitch-6 @littlelovebug98 @ungodlydilf @madsothree

[biteofcherry]

hi, thank you for the babe lottery! in dire need of a man to sweep me off my feet away from my problems forever, so I'd like to request Andy please, if possible. thanks again <3

✨✨✨

This was pure despair. You walking into that fancy law firm, moving among the elegant dressed professionals who earned more than your family could ever dream of.

As you finally reached the door of Andy Barber's office, the intern who led you there gave you one more condescending look before striding away to tasks he deemed more worthy of his attention.

You knocked on the door and hesitantly walked inside.

Andy Barber didn't look intimidating. He had a handsome face, softened by fluffy dark hair and beard, and a gentle gleam in his eyes.

But it was only his looks. You heard he was a beast in the court, rarely losing a case.

There was no way he would lose a case when it was his son's word against that of your brother. The only option was to prevent it from making to court in the first place.

Your mom tried talking with Mrs Barber, but it was a disaster. Mom simply said she wouldn't budge, but you never saw your mother so shaken. You never met Laurie Barber, but that woman had to be evil incarnate to leave your mom nearly broken in defeat.

"How can I help you?" Andy asked, motioning for you to come closer.

When you introduced yourself, his face fell.

No rage appeared, fortunately. Rather worry and a flicker of... regret?

"Please, Mister Barber." After making it obvious what led you to his office, you pleaded for your little brother's sake.

You wanted to say that Jacob lied, that he was framing your brother in retaliation for school rivalry. There was something off about Jacob, but that comment you kept to yourself.

Your family couldn't afford a decent lawyer to even hope of defending your brother. Your father worked two jobs and you had a part-time one as well, just so you could afford local college.

"I would drop the whole thing, but unfortunately my wife is adamant on blowing it all out of proportion." Andy sounded frustrated, hints of anger at his own wife reverberated.

But he wouldn't fight Laurie about it. Placating her would mean his peace at home, your brother didn't count. He was a faraway thought.

Tears shone in your eyes and he cursed under his breath.

Andy pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled heavily. Then, suddenly, his head snapped up and his eyes bore into yours for a long moment.

"I think there is something we could do about it." He unexpectedly revealed and your hope reignited.

With hands clasped on your chest, you watched him stride over to the door to lock it. He closed the blinds, too.

Fear skittered under your skin as you realized you were locked in his office with a man almost twice your age. A man of power and strength greater than yours.

You were ready to do anything for your little brother, but you didn't want to do that.

You wondered, if you screamed for help, would any of the cold-hearted lawyers outside come to your help. Or would they all vouch for Andy? You definitely didn't have the chance to win in court.

But Andy moved back to his desk and picked up his phone. He didn't put it to his ear, but instead put it on speaker so that you could hear the whole conversation.

"What is it?" A deep male voice on the other side sounded irked.

"Hello to you too, Rogers." Andy rolled his eyes. "Do you remember that you owe me?"

"I don't owe you shit."

"How about me owing you?" Andy offered and you realized he purposely led the conversation that way.

"I'm listening." The man on the other side said after a pause.

"I want you to take a case, pro bono."

"What fucking kind of case?" Rogers asked, suspicious.

"Against me." Andy sighed.

There was a very long pause. And then the man's laughter resounded, sounding both wonderful and scary as hell.

"Send me the details via your private mail. And send to my office that poor lamb you want me to save from your nasty jaws."

[vienna-fiore]

Vienna sat on the couch, her phone balanced on her knee as she stared at the blank screen. Today was Romeo’s birthday, and it felt like a quiet ache in her chest. Her older brother — her protector, her guide, the one who always seemed larger than life — was slipping further and further away from the man she once knew.

Her memories of him felt like a different lifetime. She could still hear the gentle sound of his voice as he taught her how to skip rocks on Lake Como. She was so bad at it, her small hands fumbling with the flat stones, but he never got frustrated. He just laughed and showed her again and again until the rock finally bounced across the water.

Then there were summers spent on the boat. He taught her how to steer when she was old enough, letting her take the helm while he stood beside her, guiding her hands with his.

When their endless exploring led to scraped knees or bruised shins, it was Romeo who nursed her wounds. He’d sit her down, his face a mix of gentle concern and teasing as he said, “You’ve got to stop crashing into everything, sorellina.” He’d carefully clean the cut, blowing on it to make the sting go away, and slap a bandage on like it was a badge of honor.

Those memories felt so bright, so vivid, but now, the brother she knew was buried under layers of anger and distance. Romeo snapped at everyone these days, his words sharp and his patience thin. He barely looked people in the eye anymore, convinced that everyone was against him. He deflected every offer of help, every attempt to draw him back into the warmth of the family.

She hated seeing him this way… so hardened, so closed off. It was like watching someone drown and not knowing how to throw them a lifeline. Every time she reached out, he pulled further away. Today, on his birthday, he’d only agreed to come for Christmas under the condition that no one mentioned the occasion. The idea of celebrating his life, of making him feel special, was unbearable to him now.

Vienna bit her lip, trying to hold back tears. How had they gotten here? How had her bright, protective big brother become this distant shadow of himself?

The weight of it all finally broke her, and she buried her face in her hands, letting the tears come. She cried for the boy who taught her how to find joy in the simple things, for the man who now seemed lost in his own pain. She cried for the memories they’d made and the ones they might never make again.

When the tears subsided, Vienna wiped her face and picked up her phone. Her fingers hovered over the screen as she typed out a message, keeping it simple because anything more would only push him further away.

Happy birthday, Romeo. I love you. I’m so proud of you, always. Don’t forget that.

She hit send and stared at the message for a long moment, the ache in her chest still there but softened. It wasn’t much, but it was all she could do. Maybe, it was enough to remind him that he wasn’t alone… that she was still here, waiting for the day he found his way back to her.

[barbiecrocs]

Macho to Mommy's Boy

Kozume Kenma

tags! mommy kink, praise, teasing, of age alcohol drinking, of age Kenma blow job, hand job, mean Kenma, established relationship, lowkey OOC, sub Kenma, dom reader, mention of pegging, mention of marking, lowkey public sex (house party bathroom)

WC.1915

Barbies Note... Imma be so real and not even give yall an excuse as to why I haven’t been posting. Yall know I be with the bullshit sometimes so just enjoy the story.😭

Oh gosh, here we go again… Here he fucking goes again. Acting all big, bad, macho, and masculine to impress his dumbass volleyball friends once he gets some alcohol in him. For a little bit of context, you guys are at a house party right now and you ever so sweetly asked your boyfriend to leave because you were getting overstimulated. Yet, he hits you with, “Not now babe.” His voice deeper than it really is. His friends go quiet, knowing how you like to get down. The only thing that breaks the silence is the music as Kuroo turns it up a couple notches. Regardless of how awkward it is, you stand your ground, hands now on your hips with a sassy eyebrow raised. You can see him bite his lip nervously, but the alcohol that's hitting him helps keep the act up. Usually you'd pull him aside in the moment and chew his ear off with anger, but no. You have something a lot more interesting in mind this time. You were going to break him, so hard that he'll never try this shit ever again.

The conversation moves along smoothly once you leave. But to Kenma’s surprise the boys begin drilling him on how much he's changed.

“Damnnnn, Kenma. When you'd become such a beast?” Bokuto slurs, sipping on the alcohol in his cup, and gathering the attention of Tsukki, Yamaguchi, and Kuroo who sat on the couch. “I don’t know what you mean. It's always been like this.” Kenma banters, failing to stick the cocky tone to his words. In return he catches a weird look from Kuroo. His only friend that knows everything, but doesn't ever plan on busting his bubble. Tsukki chuckles, knowing he's gotta be full of shit. “Uh, yeah sure. Let's not forget about the anti-social hunchback creature you were in high school. Face glued to your 20th century Gameboy with your headphones plugged in to ignore all other sound. Trust and believe, we remember.” Tsukki gains a very subtle side eye from Kenma until the rest of the group joins in on laying it on thick. “Yeah, now that I think about it, you changed a lot after high school. Appearance-wise too. Your hair is barely bleached anymore, just the tips, and it's way longer now.” Yamaguchi adds, but before Kenma can get a word out, they begin talking about how much everyone has changed since their senior years. Reminiscing about the funny moments, volleyball games, going to eat out with their teams, and all of a sudden he notices that the attention is no longer on him.

He starts to come down from his social high and realizes how angry he might've made you and how he'll pay for it later. He lifts up from his loveseat, setting out to go find you only to be pushed back down by a strong force. He looks up at who is to blame and to his pleasure his eyes meet yours. “Oh, Y/n. Listen, I'm really sor-”

“It's too late for that now.” You scold in a heartless tone. He pinches his lips closed with his teeth, knowing how pissed you are right now. But what confuses him is why you squish in next to him with your legs over his lap and blanket delicately placed over the both of you. “You want to stay? Then we'll stay, so get comfy.”

—

Just when Kenma begins to sink down into the Lazyboy chair, he feels a hand rub his thigh. The action blasts him awake. His eyes dart over to your face in search of an emotion that might give away your intentions, but nothing.

He readjusts his legs in hopes to shake your touch, but you grip his thigh tightly to hold him still. The action is very subtle to the group, but it speaks volumes to him as he catches you in a half-assed smirk. “Stay still for mommy.” You whisper into his neck while tugging at the zipper on his pants.

—

Kenma's soft and breathy moans hit your eardrums as you stroke his cock and whisper degrading things into his ear with your head on his shoulder. Your hand moves up and down gently and delicately while rubbing his tip every time you reach the top, making his tongue roll out of his mouth. And there's a strong temptation to lean forward and take his lips with yours, but you don't want to draw attention to your actions. Even though there's a good chance no one would notice with the alcohol that's coursing through them. Hell, most of them are even knocked out with drool spilling from the corners of their mouths while the rest make drunk phone calls and texts to their designated drivers, or play games on their phones.

Turning your attention back to Kenma, you search his face for an expression only to see tears bubbling at the ends of his eyes and it's hard for you not to find the sight cute. If you were alone, you'd rip the blanket off, place his legs over the arms of the loveseat, and tease his cute little butthole until he cums all over his stomach. But sadly, that's not going to happen right now.

“Mommy faster, please.” He whines lowly, taking you out of your raunchy thoughts. To your dismay, he starts bucking into your fist and digs his heels into the carpet below for better balance and strength. “Last time I checked, that's not how you ask for things Kenken.” You whisper, folding your arms, taking your legs off his lap, and turning away from him. Unbeknownst to him, you had a fat smile on your face, excited and wondering what he might do next. And of course, his only course of action is the wrong one.

“No, mommy!” He whisper-yells, gripping your shoulder and you quickly shake him off, having to fix your face before turning back to whisper. “Well, you're just breaking all the rules, huh? You know not to touch mommy without permission.” You hop up from your shared seat and walk to the kitchen for a drink. You make sure to stay in his line of vision to tease and teach him a lesson. Just when you pick up a bottle of Vodka, a hand takes your wrist and leads you to the bathroom.

He leans you up against the bathroom door and sits his head on your shoulder. He moans into your ear, breathy and whiney just how you like it, “Mommy please, I'm sorry. I need you. I want you so bad. I can't take it anymore. I'm gonna go fucking crazy.” Fuck, he knows how to get you going. His hands are heavily placed at the sides of your waist with his knee brushing against your pussy. It makes you get wetter by the second and you bite your lip to stop a low and wispy ‘fuckkkkk’ from escaping your lips.

To get the upper hand again, you switch positions with him, pushing him up against the door while gradually sliding a hand down his chest to his clothed hard dick. An immediate whimper is pushed out his mouth and you can feel him rut against you again. “Don't you fucking dare unless you want me to stop again.” You threaten. “Or, maybe I should stop anyway. You've been a very bad boy Kenken. Giving me sass, rutting against me, and using your hands. If only there was some way to make it up to me.” Your hand unzips his pants for the second time tonight, but this is the first that you actually got on your knees. “Beg.” You say, kissing the tip of his cock and going as far as taking his balls in before you leave him hanging again.

That little taste of what's to come was all that was needed to throw him over the edge because from then on he completely breaks. “Oh my god, mommy please~ I'm really sorry for earlier, please forgive me. Please, please, please, take me into your mouth. I need it mommy. Fuck~” He begins to hiccup and the tears beading at the corners of his eyes finally stream down his face. Only then do you realize his physical state. His body is entirely reliant on the door behind him as he pants and whines. His voice comes out hoarse with constant cracks in it, and his eyes blink slowly almost as if he's not all the way here anymore. His hair sticks to his forehead and neck with sweat, tears wet his face, and his raging boner is an angry chili pepper red color with precum dripping everywhere. You finally give in to his delicious submissiveness and can't wait to see how cute he’ll look when he cums.

“Kenken, look at all that yummy precum. You want mommy to lick you clean?” He feverishly nods his head, even banging it against the door by accident a couple of times and a wimpy “pleaseee” leaves his quivering lips. You take him into your mouth once more, hollowing your cheeks to create a vacuum-like sensation to get the most of his precum into your mouth. Once you're done, you go back and forth pumping and sucking him when he finally begins to feel that growing knot of pleasure in his stomach. “Oh fuck! Mommy, your mouth feels so good around me. Don't stop.” He praises. Not only turning you on times a thousand, but taking you by surprise in how loud he gets as if you guys weren't in his friend's bathroom. ‘Well there goes all my efforts of being discreet.’ You think to yourself. You'd usually tell him to pipe down, or take a second to stuff your panties in his mouth, but you think that if you stop again for even a second, he actually might die. “Mommy, I'm so close. Please let me cum. Please?” He cries out loudly, hyperventilating, hiccuping, and gasping like he just ran a marathon for the first time ever. The pleasure has him on cloud nine and in a moment of weakness, his legs give out for a split second. He leans over you while gripping the sink for balance and a mixture of tears and sweat drips off his chin and onto your forehead as you pump his cock at a break-neck speed. “Cum for me Kenma.” You say mouth open and ready to receive his seed. ��Oh shit! Oh fuck! Oh my god, Y/n! I'm gonna fucking- I'm gonna- Fuck, fuck fuck!~” He moans before going completely radio silent, mouth agape, and eyes rolled back as you stroke him through his mind-numbing orgasm. “What do you say, Kenken? You ask as he subconsciously begins sliding down the door, but you catch him and sling an arm over your shoulder. “Thank you mommy.” He says, putting together his last two brain cells to sound coherent as you help his exhausted self limp out of the bathroom.

You guys walk into the living room where the music that was once loud is lowly playing in the background. That fact only helps you confirm that everyone definitely heard what went down a few moments ago. Well, not everyone who is sound asleep, but everyone who's pretending to be to avoid any awkward confrontation. You snicker at the sight while grabbing anything you guys left on the loveseat before your bathroom fiasco and head home for the night.