#or clean shit as you dirty them! instead of having them stack up! or ask for fucking help when you need it!

[specters]

why must i use therapist speak to tell my roommate to clean up after themselves like why can't i just be like "hey this is getting hazardous levels of disgusting to the point i don't want to come back ever please put in a little bit of effort at all ever" and be done

[thewritersaddictions]

Bases: Negan Smith- Chapter 4 Echo

Pairing: Negan Smith x Fem!Reader

Pov: Negan Smith

Warnings: Smut, head, PinV, wrap it before you tap it, angst, fluff, mentions of the wives, coin for your thoughts, a little fight-ish.

Summary: It all takes longer than expected, but Negan is absolutely thrilled when he gets you under his sheets and finally gets to have you all to himself.

A/n- @ firefly-graphics for dividers

WC- 3.2k

The Walking Dead Master List // The Wanderers Master List // Series Master List

Months go by before anything else happens. I'd let go of the wives. That had been first on my list of things. 'Returning' them to their husbands or whatever was left of them. They all seemed grateful, as if I had been a horrible person in the first place.

I can't shake the feeling that I might have been slightly sinister. I wasn't always right. It only ever came out when it was needed. Lucille had been a good thing slung over my shoulder, which put the fear of god into most people. A man with needs, though, can only go so far with a bit of touch here and there, a warm and wet mouth awaiting them.

Y/n had grown more in the past few months, though. Confidence didn't pour from her, but it also wasn't non-existent. She travels more often with us, taking care of many walkers on the way. She had a few past times. Y/n had a collection of books stacking up, taking up spots on the side, and coffee tables in the room.

It was excellent, the feeling of the space before compared to now. It felt different. It felt like a home, not just someplace where I happened to lay my head down at night. Y/n also had other past times. We had people, and they had jobs, yet every morning I'd watch as Y/n would stand at the fence line with a knife in hand. Walkers were lying dead at the fence line.

Blood and guts smeared against cleanly washed clothes. Bloodstained against the supple skin of her cheek. ��Hey maybe next time you should use my bat.” I said, walking up behind her. Was it clear to everyone else in the sanctuary that Y/n was something special, perhaps they had no clue why all the sudden she was all I really cared about. “Hmm I didn’t think you’d allow for that Negan.” Y/n said digging the knife into another lopsided walker head. Sure they’re other people in the yard, but none that are as intriguing at Y/n. 

“Why don’t you and I go get some lunch?” With Y/n nothing is ever a demand, rather a question that I feel Y/n won’t ever deny. She looks down at the ground on the other side of th fence. The pile of walkers line a good portion of the fence. “Maria are you okay if I go inside for a moment?” Y/n asks some younger women, she looks and then nods her head when she that I’m beside Y/n. “Thanks Maria.” Y/n calls out as we start to walk back. 

“Are you okay Negan?” she asks, I nod my head simply. Not yet wanting to get into the fact that for the past few months I’ve been inching closer, and closer to a feeling that I’m not sure what to do with. The feel of admiration, of love. The first love I’ve felt in since the world went to shit. We walk past the court filled with all sorts of people, and for a moment the look of confusion is written all over Y/n’s face. 

“I thought you said we were getting lunch?” She questions me, “We are, in the room. I don’t eat out here. The crowds of people are to loud to have a nice pleasant lunch.” I tell her simply, before grabbing her hand and walking side by side with her to the bedroom. When we walk in the smell of food hits both us like a slap in the face, or rather a slap in the mouth. “Do you want to shower before we eat?” I ask her, noticing thatthe grim is stuck in her hair, and the blood looks worse under these lights then outside. 

She looks down, noticing the things I had. Shaking her head she drops the knife onto the countertop, and then she starts to shift through her clothes. “Are you sure you want to get clean clothes are dirty?” Y/n laughs at my comment, “I didn’t even notice.” So, instead she slips off the black boots. “I’ll grab you something to wear, and you can take your shower.” The food can be forgotten for now. I don’t see a problem with waiting on her. She stands there for a moment before simple walking over and kissing my cheek. Something as sweet as that for which I do not feel like I deserve makes me feel like a teenager in highschool all over again. 

Y/n makes me feel like a fucking teenager who’s crush has finally said something to them, touched them for the first time. With that small notion of care within her kiss to my cheek, my cock stirs to life within my jeans. She skips off leaving me standing there when the doors shuts, and the water turns on that is when i start to go through her clothes. 

Some drawers are filled with large shirts that she tends to use to go to sleep in. One drawer is dedicated to just jeans, for what I’m thinking about doing there’s no need for Y/n to be going back outside for the rest of the day. I grab a loose t-shirt, a pair of sweats, and of course a pair of panties. The blue fabric with the same frilly sides, and little bow on the front of them. If I were anything less then a man I would have pocketed them for a later use. 

I refold the clothes into a nice pile, and knock on the bathroom door before entering. The sheer shower curtain gives little tothe imagination. “You can just leave them on the counter Negan.” She yells over the water pressure, and when I do leave them there. There’s a part of me that would love to strip down and hop in the shower behind her. 

Grab her by the hips, pull her up against me. And finally slip myself inside that tight pussy of hers. To hear her moans bounce off the shower walls, to know that her hand would be pressed into the wall just below mine as I fucked her good and hard. It places me in a fantasy for which my cock is happy to contiune to be apart of. Something pulse me out though, pulls me out of my dream like fantasy. A humming of sorts that turns into a little voice bouncing off the walls. Then into a full song, Y/n singing in the shower, her eyes probably closed as she lathers her hair with shampoo, or washes down her body with soap. That idea alone has me weak in the knees. But I know I can’t do any of that, I can’t push her into it. It’s got to be of her free will, she has to want to move past blowjobs here, and me eating out her pussy. 

When Y/n comes out of the bathroom, she’s already dressed in the clothes i placed on the counter. She rubs down her thighs. “Feelin’ better?” I ask her, as water droplets roll down her shoulders and soak into the fabric. She yawns “Much cleaner now.” Y/n says with a giggle. “Lunch now?” I ask her, she nods her head. The food probably hasn’t gone cold, but to be sure I had left the plate covers on. 

Y/n settles next to me. Her knees bumping into mine, shoulders brushing up against each other. She’s wet, and warm. “Did you use all the hot water?” I tease, she looks up at the ceiling. “Maybe…” She teases back. I remove the covers and the flavors of the food whaftes into the air. “I hope venison is okay?” I ask her, she nods her head. “You don’t know how much probably really bad food I ate while I was out there.” She says shifting things on the table to make room for both plates. “What’d mean?” Cutting into the meat of the deer, the knife grinds into the plate for a second. 

“I just mean that I was out there by myself for a while, and let’s be honest people freaked out pretty quickly. Nothing was left in the stores, or gas stations.’ She said before digging into her own plate of venison. “You know I wonder how many other people tried to survive like you but weren’t strong enough?” It’s not really a question by any means, just an open thought. Sure people are strong, but nobody was prepared for a zombie fuckin’ apocalypse. “I’m not sure how other people. I honestly didn’t see anybody else the entire time I was out there, if you’re not counting walkers.” Y/n looks down at the plate of food. “Just glad I finally found good place.” It’s almost under her breathe. 

Beers come out of the mini fridge. “A beer for you?” I ask her as I set the empty lunch plates on the counter top and out of the way of the coffee table. She yawns once more, but nods her head in my direction. I grab another bottle by the neck. Cold on my finger tips, as I walk back to the couch where Y/n seems to get more comfortable. I press the cold bottom of one of the bottles into her neck, instead of shrieking and pushing me away. Y/n leans into the cold, “You can’t get me Negan.” Her words set a challenge in my head, I could most definitely get her, swoop her off her feet, grab and put her in my lap. “Are you sure of that Y/n?” An arched brow as I sit back besides her, she smiles sweetly, before gabbing the bottle out of my hand. “I noticed that Frankie hasn’t come around at all.” Y/n says, not that it’s the conversation I want to have right now damping the good mood that I thought was going on. 

I take a swing of the beer, tingling my taste buds. “I let… they’re gone…” Her eyes light then dim, and then light back up. “Like what does that mean?” She ask with a serious voice. Trying to hide her excitement. “It’s just you my dear.” The words feel odd on my tongue, but there’s a feeling in the bottom of the my stomach that makes me righteous. Like what i’ve done is all for the good, just for the two of us. Her cheeks fill with a pink blush, as she sets her opened beer on the side table and shifts herself to rest on my lap. 

We aren’t tipsy, not that a beer or even two could make me close to tispy. Y/n is in my lap, her sweats stretch as her thighs sit opposite of mine, her arms wrap around my neck hands locked together. She’s so pretty just sitting here on my lap with nothing behind her eyes. Her confidence grows every single time we are together. 

The smile that shifts into a smirk on her face is addicting. Her hips grind up against me, my hands landing on her hips helping her keep her motions solid. Y/n leans forward connecting our lips together in a chaotic kiss. Lips mashing together, teeth scraping against each others. Tongues dancing around each other. My fingers digging into the fabric of her sweats, probably leaving bruises in their wake. 

Her moans bounce around and towards the back of my throat, as I rake her forward. Bitting my bottom lip dragging it away as Y/n leaves the kiss. Confidence oozing from her as she rips off the t-shirt, landing somewhere on the floor aside us. Breasts bounces as the fab ric releases them from their prison, nipples budding as the cold air hits them. Y/n grips at the hem of my shirt to pull it up and over my shoulder, her hands hit my skin. A cold to warm contrast. Cold hands scraping down my chest as Y/n leans in pressing a few kisses into my neck and chest, before returning her attention to where my neck and shoulder meet. 

Her lips wrap around the pulse point in my neck, sucking and licking as she leaves a hickey on my skin. “Are you markin’ me pretty girl?” I ask through a groans as her hip continue to flex over my own. She hums into my skin, “such a good girl.” She returns my words with a hard grind of her hips. The restriction of my jeans leaving me a hard mess, my cock pressed into her wet center every time she grinds up on me. 

I pick her up with ease, “Where are we goin’?” Y/n asks already sounding cock drunk. “To the bed, because as much as I want to be a getneleman and wait for you to say that I can fuck this tight cunt, I’m tired of waiting.” I groan into her ear, she shivers in my hold but doesn’t seem to be backing down from the idea. There’s no condoms, not left anyways. So it’s the pullout game for me, or I can bury my cock deep in the wet, warm cunt of hers. I lay her gently on the bed, stripping of her sweats, and panties. A wet spot sporting them, and I can’t help the smirk that filters onto my face, and I sucepts that Y/n can’t help the blush that seeps into her cheeks and ears. 

I remove my jeans with ease as to not aggravate my hard on in my boxer. I get down onto my knees het again the show of age in my knees as they creak. “NO!” I look up at Y/n, her eyes are wide with pleases written all of them. “No what?” I ask her, my brows knitted together, “I love your mouth on me, but please NE-gan please just fuck me with your cock please!” She begs as she rests herself up on her elbows. I can’t deny her, and as much as I would love to get my lips around her swollen clit. My knees and body give thanks to her. “Alright, baby don’t worry I’ll fuck you go and proper. Won’t be walking for days.” I ensure her, as I throw off my boxers. Landing them into the piles of discarded clothes. 

Y/n opens her legs wide, letting me slot my hips between her plush thighs. Everything about her makes my cock stand right up to attention, but Y/n is getting imptantet dragging a hand down her belly to her dripping cunt. But it’s not that she bring her attention to, her soft hand gently grabs ahold of me. Lining me up with her entrance. “Please Negan,” Y/n begs, I want to see how much longer I can get her to beg me, but I can’t deny myself any longer. 

At first she’s so tight hat I fear I’ve died right there and gone to hell, “Loosen up baby, gotta let me in.” I praise her, as I bring a hand up from her navel up to the valley of her breats to her neck. Her own hand wraps around mine. She’s tense and I can feel it, “Look at me,” Her eyes open wide as she looks up at me, “Breathe with me yeah.” She takes in a shake first breathe and with every breathe I inch myself further and further into her cunt. Y/n pratically pulls me in the rst of the way, her legs wrap around my wasit locking me in, her arms come to lock around my neck. I let my hips loose, fucking her into the matters with no plan to ease up. Y/n’s eyes roll into the back of her head, but she looses up around me, her lock on my waist, and neck allowing me to get a hand between the two of us to play with her clit. 

“Oh fu-fuck.” She moans out, “God I feel so full right now!” She screams out, “Yeah that’s good baby, like how good my cock makes you feel?” I ask her knowing she’s too cock drunk to anwer my question. My thumb on her clit works with haste, she’s already squeezing me tightly but every flicker of my wrist, and thumb her sqquezes me tighter and tiger. “Are you gonna cum pretty girl?” I ask her pressing kisses into her warm flesh. She hums, “Words love words.” I whispers into her skin, “Oh fuck don’t stop, just like that.” The sound of skin slapping against skin hitting the walls. “NE-gan I’m, i’m gonn’…” Her eyes roll over, her mouth left gapping open. A silent scream that probably only a dog could hear. 

I continue to move my hips fucking her through her first orgasm of the night. Her breath is ragged, and when she comes to, she grabs for me. Pulling me down to met her lips once more, “Do you want me to stop?” I ask her, She shakes her head, “Don’t you ever stop.” Y/n begs me, good I think, now lets try something else. “You try something new?” I ask her, she hums. I slip out and she whines at the empty feeling. I shift getting up on the bed, my back pressed into the mattress. “Come here.” I beckon her, she crawl over to me on her hands and knees. “You wanna be a cowgirl?” She looks at with confusion. “Come sit on my lap. Y/n throws her legs over my waist, “And now I’m just gonna slip myself right back into this delicious cunt of hers.” I say as I slip mtself in, and she lowers herself down on my cock. Her eyes light up and her mouth hangs open. My hands land on her hips, helping her with the first few bounces and then she’s got it all under control. Her hands pressed into my chest, and her tits bouncing with each thurst of her hips down. The wet sound of her gushing cunt, and how Y/n throws her head back in estacsy as she gets closer and closer to the edge that’s just that much closer now. My hands have a mind of their own when they grip at her tits, she leans down letting my play with her budded nipples. Rolling them between my forefinger and thumb, before popping one into my mouth with ease. A hand that used to be on my chest lands in my hair pulling me closer to her chest. 

I know Y/n’s right on the edge, because her fingers flex hard around my hair and she moans loudly. I relish in the way she pulls me in tight as I loose myself before I have the time to pull out and cum. My hips ruts up agasint hers and we lose to each other at the same time. “FUCK NEGAN!” She screams and shouts at the tops of her lungs, my head falls into her skin, mumbles of curses and words that I’m not sure are real fall from my lips. I’m sure of it that most of the sanctuary have heard Y/n by now. 

We stay linked together, and by the time our breathing has returned to normal, she whines when I slip from her, begging me not to leave. I press a chaste kiss into her forehead. “I’ll be right back; I gotta clean up our mess,” I tell her Y/n looks sad but nods that she understands her head falling into a pillow. I leave for only a moment to grab a washcloth to wipe down her inner thighs and another to press into her warm skin. Whispering praises into her skin and kisses every few moments.

Completed on: 08/20/21

Posted on: 08/21/23

Bases- @ge0rgzs @rainyzonkmakerlover @amazingmaeve @harmonib @fullwattpadmusictree @finalgirlmp3 @raynneemccann @redscreendarkwin @lanceisrandom @sweetvixensstuff @charlie19690 @123avengersandmarvel @ayeitzzshayla @sageworld @julumariett @freedomfighterlex @chelseypprimrose @oceanablue @daryldixonluvr @whatsssss @kaits-diary @idk1idk2idk @scarlett-widows-89 @jsmsgorl @lanad3lrey-l0v3r @clararangel @tonysterco @staciex @0thecrazygurl0 @kpoplover4life @definitelynotyagmur @rivernell @vanilla88 @alteredgalaxy @kyleepsposts @max-505 @nhayoshii @neganswoman

[dobnny]

@ladiesofhpfest

monthly mini for Ginerva Weasley

Summary: Ginny is being interview by Hannah from Risk-and-Taken, but someone interrupts their conversation.

The interview?

"So, Ginerva-"

"Please, call me Ginny." She corrected the interviewer, with a smile that didn't fully reach her eyes.

"Oh, of course. Ginny, as I was saying how excited are you with the upcoming Quidditch season? Do you think the Harpies has what it takes to win the Quidditch World Cup this year?"

"Well, Han-Han, I definitely believe that-"

"Erm, please call me Hannah," the interviewer from Risk-and-Taken, a new prophet company that was competing with the Daily Prophet.

"Of course, Hannah my apologies." Ginny replied, "I believe that this season the Harpies are certainly going to take a risk and come out victorious at the end. Yes, the odds are certainly stacked against us but there's one thing that we have that the other Quidditch teams lack."

The interviewer leaned in closer, intrigued by the determination in the young Quidditch star. Ginny could tell she was about to ask what exactly makes the Harpies stand out amongst all the other teams. When suddenly the living room became dark, and an unfamiliar muggle song started to play all around them.

Before the lights turned back on, instead of a soft white light, the room the light changed from red to pink. Thick smoke began rising from the ground, quickly spreading throughout the room.

"You don't have to be rich to be my girl. You don't have to be cool to rule my world. Ain't no particular sign I'm more compatible with. I just want your extra time and your kiss."

"Shit." She muttered, her face burning scarlet....damnit. Why now out of all times. She thought to herself, why couldn't Harry take Dobby with him?

Ginny stared at Dobby, who was wearing- wait was that little butter wearing her favorite jersey? She quilted her eyes, and realized that not only was Dobby wearing the jersey that she wore for her first Harpy match, but he was also wearing a pair of Harry’s grey joggers. It was magicked to fit the house elf, yet it didn’t suit him at all. In fact Ginny noticed how Dobby had to continuously hold onto the sides of the joggers in order to keep them up as he danced in a slow circle.

Merlin’s saggy left-

“Oh, it seems as if I’m in the middle of something intimate….I can reschedule this interview at a later time?” Ginny heard Hannah ask from besides her, almost in a strained voice.

Before she could reply to the reporter, Ginny noticed how Dobby had turned around and was staring at her. His eyes were extra wide open and he was watching her like a hawk, he had the audacity to wink at her as if saying, “you like the show?”

“Dobby, what in Merlin’s name are you doing?” She asked, through clenched teeth.

“Ms. Ginerva-“

“It’s Ginny.”

“Oh, yes sorry!” Dobby squeaked out, his face turning a shade of murky green. “Ms. Ginny, I wanted to show my gratitude for letting me serve you.”

She closed her eyes, willing herself to count to ten before reaching for her wand and firing a bat bogey hex to the house elf. After a few deep breaths, Ginny opened her eyes and spoke, “there isn’t a need for all of this, Dobby. Please can you leave? I'm in the middle of a very important interview.”

“But, Dobby needs to express his gratitude! Dobby has been practicing for hours, and this time the socks are clean,” the house elf squeaks out as he gestured to his feet. The pair of “clean” socks that Dobby claimed were a mixture of brown and green. It was also emitting a foul odor from the longer he stood there in front of them. Ginny tried her best to push down the bile in her mouth. Nope, she doesn’t want to even think about what the “dirty” socks even looked or smelled like for the matter.

Another silence stretched between the three occupants, that was until Hannah had decided to break the silence.

“You know what, maybe I should get going. Yes-I will send an owl to your manager and we will fix up a different date.” The reporter spoke with difficulty since she was doing her best to hold in her breath.

“No, it’s fine, I’ll ask Dobby to leave-”

“No! I mean, it’s fine….I’ll make sure to keep in touch with your manager and hopefully we’ll set up another date.” Hannah said as she gathered all her things quickly, “Besides, I believe Donny…?”

“It’s Dobby, Miss,” Dobby replied while attempting to give a lopsided smile to the reporter. It seems as though he tried to get that out of her brother’s Ron’s arsenal, because he would always smile like that to Hermione to get his way. Which worked practically all the time, but the way that Dobby is doing it, it just wasn’t pleasant to see. Ginny wondered if Hannah would end up sending in a restraining order against the house elf, just from the way he was trying to smile.

“Right. Dobby, I believe you two have some sort of conversation to finish, and I truly don’t want to interrupt,” Hannah replied and with that she was already rushing to the floor and before Ginny could even call out to her, Hannah was gone.

“So now that we are alone-”

Ginny pulls out her wand quicker than ever and stuns Dobby into the next realm. That buggering little shit.

[uses-for-fics]

Can't Get Enough

Darren x Reader

a/n: i think this drags on but whateverrrrrr i finished it and im proud i finally finished soemthing. 6 hours. 6 long miserable hours she had to endure in a cramped plane all because her boss wanted to be a bitch and make her miss out on her weekend. Y/n should’ve been out on her two day-relaxing wilderness retreat but instead she was stuck here, carrying all of her boss's luggage as she hauled ass right behind the terrifying woman. Luckily, she managed to put her phone into her purse before all the luggage was assigned to her. If she was going to be forced to be here, the least they should let her do was listen to her audiobook by the hotel pool.

She had safely made it into the giant glass box of a hotel without tripping and stared in awe. The hotel was lavish! She looked forward and there stood a giant waterfall in the middle of the lobby. The splashing water made it feel refreshing inside and brightened the already very luxurious place. Maybe she could find time to come back to the lobby and pretend she was far from work. She zoned out imagining all the fun she could be having right about now, failing to notice the dastardly woman calling her name until she saw old wrinkly fingers snap in her face.

“HELLO!!! Are you going to get my room keys or not?” Her boss’s shrill voice ringing in her ears. “Sorry, Ms. Featherington.” The older woman snapped her fingers and held out her hand. The assistant looked over to the receptionist and put down some of the luggage. “DONT DO THAT! These carpets are utterly dirty with everyone’s steps, my bags should NEVER touch the floor.” The shrill voice spoke up again.

The younger woman took in a long breathe. “I’m sorry, I won’t let it happen again.” She hobbled over to the desk with the bags all hanging on her, grabbing the key from the stranger. The receptionist gave her a small pity smile and pointed them in the direction of the elevators. “Your room will be that way.” Y/n noticed how the keys were different. One was a shiny goldish color, while the other was a plain grey color.

“Where will I sleep?” She asked. Ms. Featherington smiled. “The expenses could only cover for ONE penthouse suite, you’ll be sleeping in the ‘quainter’ rooms underneath. Now take my bags to my room and organize my things. I’m going for a trip to the spa and I’m expecting a spectacular reservation at the best restaurant around here at 7pm WITH a car pick up and I better not see a single thing out of place in my room when I get back.” With that the older lady put on her sunglasses and walked away. The poor assistant could just sigh and carry the heavy bags to the elevators.

She successfully managed to put all the bags into elevator and push the button to the 16th floor without falling over. Now she just needed to make it to the room...easy right? She had stacked all the luggage she could carry in a straight pile in her arms and weaved her way through the long hall. 'A few more steps and I'm there.' She thought to herself. She let out a sigh and started to feel the bags wiggle in her arms. 'Fuck.' It's all she could think of as she tried to catch the bags before they hit ground. From across the hall, Darren, Alexx and Joel had all finished cleaning the penthouse and were grabbing their cleaning items. Darren stretched his arms up until he heard a satisfying 'CRACK'. "I think we did a great job with this room. We deserve a little prize." He reached into his shirt's pocket and pulled out a pipe. "Dude! Seriously?" Joel reached out for the pipe. Darren extended his arm above Joel, making it hard for the scrawny man to reach it. "Come on man! Thats not good for you." Joel huffed. "Dude, if Darren wants to get shit faced, I think we should let him." Alexx said as he patted Darren's back. Darren nodded and took a hit from the pipe. Joel shook his head in disbelief. "You only think Darren should continue cause you're his supplier!" Alexx hushed Joel. "Not so loud man! Someone is going to hear you!" Darren blows out a ring of smoke and smiles. "Oh please, we're the only people here." Joel looks behind Darren and points. "Us and that person." The two other guys look behind themselves and see a giant stack of luggage wobbling. "Woahhhh technology has come so far! Luggage's can deliver themselves now." Alexx beamed. Joel rolled his eyes, "Thats obviously a person. Come on let's go help." Alexx shook his head. "No way man, we get paid to clean, NOT to carry bags, I'm not doing extra work." Darren shrugged and walked to the person struggling. "Here." He grabbed a couple of bags, just enough so it wouldn't be so heavy anymore for the person. He was able to see the person behind the luggage tower and smiled. He didn't expect to see a frantic looking woman. She looked up and saw him, her quivering lip turning into a smile. "Umm, let me help you." He chuckled as she loosened her grip on the bags. "Thank you." she said sheepishly. She looked tired, nervous, almost like she didn't want to be there and yet, Darren thought she looked beautiful. The woman took in her savior's features. Scruffy stubble, unkept fluffy hair, and glazed over hazel eyes. He looked like an angel to her. They hadn't noticed Joel grabbing some bags from the woman. She looked over at the second man and smiled up at him. She thanked him and reached into her pocket for the key card. Much to Alexx's dismay, all three men helped her bring the bags in. Alexx and Joel put the bags down near the entrance of the room and headed out of the room.

The woman called out before Darren could leave. "Wait!" She said just a bit too loud. She felt her face go red as Darren turned back to look at her. 'God was he cute.' She cleared her throat, "Let me at least tip you guys." She instinctively reached to her side, aiming to grab her purse but found air. She usually carried her purse on her person all the time in case Ms. Featherington needed something.

She looked up at Darren and gave a nervous chuckle. “Whoops, looks like I can’t find my purse, just give me one second.” She started scrambling around the luggage, in hopes it was just piled around there. Darren tried to reach out to her. "Oh no you don’t have to worry about that. It really wasn’t a problem." He grabbed ahold of her shoulder. She stopped her frantic searching and looked up at him. He noticed how tense she looked. Shit! She felt tensed! Almost like if she was on edge all the time.

She reached for his hand that laid on her shoulder. "I insist, you guys didn’t have to help, and I really do appreciate your help." He felt his face warm up from the lady’s touch…or maybe the drugs were staring to hit, he couldnt tell. The woman went back to looking for her bag and had become to look frantic every second she couldn’t find it.

"FUCK!" She threw her hands into her hair. Darren’s eyes widen at the sudden burst, walking closer to her. "Is everything ok?" She looked at him and started geting teary. "I must’ve left my bag on the elevator or in the lobby…I can’t remember…FUCK these stupid bags!" She huffed and covered her eyes. ‘Great. Just fucking great. She managed to lose her purse AND embarrass herself in front of the cute brunette.’

The other two men had come back into the room. "Darren we gotta go, as much as we like slacking off, Cassie is on her way checking the rooms weve done...which isnt a lot." Alexx whispered to Darren. Darren looked over to the crying woman. he couldnt leave her there, something about her just called to him. He turned back to Alex and Joel. “You guys go on without me. I’m going to hang back.” Alexx looked back at the woman who’s taken a seat on the couch. “Ohhh, getting her while she’s at her low. Nice move dude, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it.” He smirked up at Darren.

Darren smacked Alexx on his arm. “Obviously I'm going to help her look for her bag, dumbass." Joel rolled his eyes, a habit he's gotten used to since he met Alexx. "Come on, Cassie will be here any moment." Joel grabbed Alexx's collar and pulled him out of the room. "You owe us!" Alexx yelled as Joel dragged him out.

Darren huffed out. This is why he never got girls. He walked up to Y/n and crouched down in front of her. He put his hand on her knee. "Hey, it's going to be ok. I'1l help you look for your bag."

She moved her hands from her face and sniffled. "Really?" Darren's heart leaped. 'Even with teary stained cheeks, she looked absolutely vibrant. ' He patted her knee. "Of course! I have access to any room and any floor. We'll find that bag in no time!" He stood up and stretched his arm out to her. She took a hold of his hand and smiled. 'His hand was soft for a cleaning maid.'

"First things first, where do you remember last having your bag?" Darren intertwined his hand with hers. Her face reddened. "I remember definitely having it in the lobby, I put my phone in it an——“. It had dawned on her that Ms. Featherington could have blowing up her phone this second with messages and complaints. “FUCK! My phone is in there! My boss is going to be pissed!” Darren gently squeezed her hand as he felt her start to get anxious again.

“Hey hey hey, it’s going to be fine. I’m sure she’ll understand, it’s a small hiccup.” He calmed her down. She sighed. “You don’t understand. She’ll literally rip my head off for not answering right away. I can literally get kidnapped and she wouldn’t care, she would still hassle me to get her a hot Venti, caramel latte, with triple shots, no foam and extra caramel all made with skim milk.” She squeezed his hand.

The most he had to worry about was his sexist boss but even then he was mostly sexist with the women. Disgusting but he got away with getting high so he stayed. “Ok ok, here’s the game plan, let’s check the elevators first and we’ll go from there.” She took a deep breath and shook her head. “Ok, I trust you.”

This had started an 1 hour and a half long wild goose chase from avoiding Cassie, checking all the elevators, the downstairs lobby and even the parking lot but to no avail, they couldn’t find the purse. “It’s no use, I’ve lost all my contacts, my boss is going to be pissed I haven’t answered her and worst of all I won’t know if Colin and Penelope ever end up together!” She huffed as she leaned back in the elevator that was taking them back upstairs.

Darren chuckled. “Well it’s so obvious Penelope and Colin are gonna end up together, why wouldn’t they?” The girl glared at him. “Or maybe they don’t! I don’t know it’s not like I read the book or anything.” He gulped. The girl just hung her head low. The doors to the elevator beeped and opened to reveal a red head in a white button and a navy blue skirt. “Darren! I’ve been looking for you! You haven’t been getting high in the rooms again, have you?” She yelped.

Y/n lifted her head to give Darren a quizzical look. Darren gave a nervous smile. “Actually Cassie-“ he grabbed y/n’s hand to help her up from her slumped position. “I was helping the wonderful lady look for her lost purse. She can’t remember where she left it.” Cassie blinked. “Oh my, have you tried checking lost and found?” Darren just stood there.

“We have a lost and found?” He questioned. Y/n’s head turned slowly to glare daggers at Darren. Cassie huffed. “Come with me ma’am, I’ll take you there.” Y/n stepped out of the elevator and followed the poised woman. Darren followed suit. Y/n grabbed Darren’s shirt and pulled him down, enough to whisper to him. “How come you didn’t tell me there was a lost and found?” She looked absolutely charming while she was mad. Darren gave a small smile. “To be fair, I’m high like half the time I’m here.” He removed her hand from his shirt and held on to it. “Besides, even if I did know we had one, maybe I was just trying to get to know you more.”

Darren stood tall again, not letting go of her hand as they continued to walk. Y/n had to take a second to compose herself, feeling her cheeks turn to a dark shade of red again. This guy was going to be her downfall.

Silence stretched between them like a taut wire during the elevator ride back to the penthouse. Her bag, retrieved thanks to Darren, sat forgotten on the floor. Her gaze flicked between it and her phone. Should she confront the messages waiting there? Lost in thought, she barely registered the elevator doors sliding open, and only Darren's gentle hand on her arm brought her back to the present. She stood frozen, the weight of the unaddressed phone a burden in her hand. Darren's voice, softer than she expected, cut through the suffocating silence. "You should check it." (Y/n) lifted her head, eyes clouded with apprehension. Darren offered a hesitant shrug. "Here," he said, extending a hand. "Let me." Before she could voice a protest, his fingers brushed hers, sending a jolt through her. He took the phone, a silent decision made. He began scrolling through the messages, his jaw tightening with each new tirade. A frown etched itself onto his face as he read the vile attacks. He switched to the voicemail, the notification displaying a staggering number – fifty missed calls. He pressed play, but the speakerphone's harsh amplification only served to distort the voice on the other end. It was a torrent of obscenities, impossible to decipher. He couldn't focus on the words, his concern fixated on the woman beside him. (Y/n) flinched with every venomous insult, her shoulders hunching inwards as if trying to shrink away. The stark contrast between her earlier vibrancy and this fragile shell hit Darren with a force that left him speechless. All he could think about was the way this strong, bright young woman would crumble with each hateful message, the light in her eyes dimming with every attack. Darren took a deep breath, his eyes flickering from the phone screen to (Y/n)'s tense posture. With a determined swipe, he deleted the entire voicemail history. "Let's just forget about all this." He said, his voice firm yet gentle. He slipped her phone into his pocket before she could protest. (Y/n) stammered, a flicker of worry crossing her face. "I can't just ignore them. I need to respond." Darren shook his head, his gaze holding hers. "No, what you need right now is a break. Relax, unwind. This place is huge, explore it. Let's take advantage of that." (Y/n)'s eyes darted between the room key and Darren, a war raging within her. Responsibility versus escape. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, she blurted, "Screw it." She thrust the key at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Darren's face broke into a relieved grin. "That's the spirit!" He took the key, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "So," he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "ever heard of salvia?" (Y/n) cocked her head, intrigued despite herself. "Salvia? What's that?" He chuckled, a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. "Oh, this is going to be interesting," he murmured, his hand reaching for hers.

[reikunrei]

Hiii

questions 2 and 3 of any Free! pairing olus makorin 🤭

oohohohooo yes!!! thank you thank you!

2. Who’s the messiest? The cleanest?

makorin:

I think that, for the most part, both makoto and rin are relatively neat and tidy. rin being tidy is something we’ve had canonically confirmed, and he has that sort of vibe about him, especially for stuff like clothes, the kitchen, and the bathroom. makoto also seems like a relatively tidy person, but only because he used to be more of a mess as a kid. and not even like stuff everywhere, food left out, dirty laundry everywhere, etc. it’s more like things getting put in the wrong place, leaving something out to be noticed later but growing around its presence instead, and a big one for him would be buying food and then forgetting it’s in the fridge because he can’t see it and then his poor batch of apples have gone rotten.

when he’s especially stressed, it leads to piles of stuff stacking up, which, of course, makes him even more stressed and suddenly it’s “oh no I need to find this important paperwork but I have 7 different stacks it could be in!” and now there’s paper everywhere as he tries to search for it and he’s near tears about it.

in the end, I could see rin buying him sticky tabs and label makers and folders and shelves to keep everything organized. sometimes things still get misplaced, but rin would take it upon himself to just casually pick up something out of place and go “yo, makoto, where does this live?” and makoto always finds the right spot for it. his favorite thing is the little blank magnets rin bought for them to doodle their produce on to indicate when something’s in the fridge so they use it before it goes bad.

and for my second pairing let’s dooooo hmmm momotori!!

now, hear me out, I know people would want to say that chaotic momo would be the one who’s the mess, and while he’s not necessarily neat and tidy, ai is the one who’s a total mess. similar to when we had it confirmed that rin is very neat, it was confirmed that ai is not a neat person. he tries to be! but as the week goes on, more and more stuff stacks up. the weekends are his time to clean up, but it gets awful before then. he also definitely tries to justify it with “it’s an organized chaos!” which is more or less true, but also… not. like if he’s searching for something on his own, he can find it pretty easily and without stress. if someone else asks for something specific from his tower of shit? the room will be a mess before he finds what they’re asking for, and he’ll be an apologetic nervous wreck about it the whole time. he definitely needs someone to kick him into gear in order to get things cleaned up, and for him to stay on top of it. and he definitely needs someone to say to him “no I promise you can throw this instruction pamphlet out, we don’t even have this device anymore.”

sadly I do not think momo is entirely that person, but! momo makes cleaning fun! he might gripe about it if he’s asked to do it, but when he’s the one suggesting it, he ends up going on a tear and makes the whole place spotless. he’s probably messier by way of like. food. not to any gross levels, but he’s left out a few too many dirty plates before and got way too excited about the cockroaches that ai was trying to scold him for. he’s also definitely neat about his interests, like stag beetles and other insects!! any jars and terrariums he has are super well kept and don’t have any buildup of grime, and all their food and supplies are super organized so he can treat them with the best care possible! that especially makes ai happy, because while he doesn’t dislike pyunski, he definitely does not want loose critters climbing all over the place.

3. Who fixes the vehicle after a breakdown?

makorin:

this is kind of a tricky one! because I can totally see makoto taking initiative and working it out, but also, god bless him, he’s kind of a moron. like, he could fix it, but it would take him 10x longer than rin bc he’s looking at the manual 17 times and can’t tell what’s what and keeps second guessing himself and getting scared because “what if I make it worse! what if I make the car explode” and rin sighs and says “you’re not gonna make it explode, makoto.” I think rin being basically on his own in australia at a young age made it easy for him to take charge and fend for himself, so he knows how to wing it and figure things out as he goes along.

honestly, I’m very tickled by the idea of makoto being unable to do the easy stuff like change a tire or refilling the wiper fluid etc. like it’s meant to be easy so he psychs himself out about it! however, if it’s something trickier than that, as soon as he gets over the immediate panic of the car breaking down, he can sit there and work out some fairly complex stuff, at least enough to get it going until they get to a mechanic. rin, on the other hand, I think handles the simple stuff like a pro. changes tires super fast, changes the oil frequently, is always ready to jumpstart a battery, but if it’s even slightly more complicated than your average mishap, he gets that deep furrow between his eyebrows and starts grumbling as he reads the manual and curses and gets all pissed off and frustrated. that’s when makoto’s “I need to take care of you” instincts kick in and his nerves completely dissipate as he helps rin through it step by step, leaving rin gaping at him like “he can’t even change a tire how did he figure this out.”

and let’s just do momotori again bc they’re cute!!!

I honestly think that, on their own, the both of them would be hopeless. ai is too much of a worrywart and momo would get distracted and be like “wait what’s this!?” and ai has to slap his hands away like “no don’t touch it we’ll never figure out how to put the pieces back together!!” like, maybe momo would try to brute force things, and think he totally fixed it, but in a way that’s like “you got the right answer but the process was completely wrong” so they still have to take it in to the mechanic to do it properly or else it’s going to be even worse later. ai would probably be fine for simple things, but he even struggles with changing a tire, so he usually just calls for a tow lol.

in the end, if they do like a cross-country road trip (by momo’s insistence) and if they broke down, I could see momo being stubborn and insistent on figuring it out on his own, like a fun crazy puzzle, and ai humors him while the tow company is on speed dial on his phone, and they end up stuck on the side of the road for hours but at this point ai is in too deep and he has to let momo see this through to the end, because he thinks he might actually do it! and he does! and momo scoops ai up and swings him around and they yell and cheer and get funny looks from the few other drivers that whizz by but ai is proud of momo and neither of them care about the looks!!

[jeehye]

BNHA villain boyfriends when you’re depressed

— Shigaraki and Overhaul

— Gender Neutral!Reader

Warnings: Depression / Mental Disorders, Implied Nudity, Probably OOC Shigaraki and Overhaul. Harsh-ish Overhaul(?)

Genre: angsty fluff

A/N: This is a little more personal. Sometimes we go through the motions and that is okay. I am proud of you for even simply browsing through Tumblr. I promise you, someday it’ll get better, so hold your head high, these waves will pass. If you ever need to talk, I am always here for you. You’re doing amazing, never forget that. 

You didn’t know how it got so bad.

Clothes littered the floor, shoes and stuffed animals thrown all over. Plates of half eaten food and water cups stacked up; all creating a chaotic mess.

You wore a baggy shirt and undergarments, mix matched socks that were slightly coming off your feet, but you did not care.

You hadn’t cared for days now.

Everything in life was like a seemingly tedious task. Even combing your hair was almost excruciating to do, and not because you had to yank knots out of your hair, but because it consumed every fiber of your being to get out of your bed and do so.

You had no energy. No enthusiasm.

You were so tired of it; so, so tired of it all. You felt desperate as you sunk deeper and deeper into this dark abyss. It was like you were trying to reach up for air but the weight of everything was continuously dragging you down. You desperately wanted to cry out for help, but you didn’t have the energy or strength, or even humility to ask for help. And so, you just laid there, time continuously ticking by, as the world continued to move forward, and you stayed stagnant in one place.

And as the sun rose on the fifth day, you heard a creak at your door and footsteps shuffling inside your room.

Shigaraki Tomura

Shigaraki came in quietly, like he always does when visiting your room. He didn’t know what was going on with you, but he knew deep down you did not want to be alone. So, he sat on the ground of your messy bedroom, switch in hand, playing Animal Crossing.

You could hear the background music of the game and the sounds of Shigaraki fishing. Sometimes he would grunt in frustration when he failed to catch a fish, which placed a tickle of a smile on your face.

After about 30 minutes of listening to his gameplay it went dead silent. You could hear him get up from his spot and shift his body weight onto your bed, causing it to creak.

“That damn Nook is a fraud”, Shigaraki grumbled, “This stingy bastard wants me to pay 548,000 bells for an expansion! This game is literally what I hate about society and those fucking ugly villagers do not deserve homes”, he continued to rant, scratching his neck in frustration.

You could practically feel him sulking.

“Maybe…” You murmured quietly “…maybe we could play together?” You lifted your head to look at him, your face still puffy from the crying session you had.

Shigaraki hated when you cried. He hated when you got the way you did too. When he first started dating you, he had made it a promise that he would protect you from everything, and make sure you were treated with the upmost care and respect. In some ways he can’t help but feel like he failed you, but he knows blaming himself would only make you feel worse.

Shigaraki gave you a soft smile and reached for the s/c switch that was sitting on your nightstand with 4 fingers.

He handed you the switch and you booted up Animal Crossing: New Horizons. As you were getting through Isabel’s mantra, you felt Shigaraki shift in bed.

“Y/N…” He said quietly, slipping his arms around your waist and nuzzled his head into your neck.

You hummed in response, all of your attention focused on running to open your island’s gate for Shigaraki to join.

“I know you are dealing with a lot,” He continued, “but do not have to take all of the weight of world on your shoulders, you can give some of the weight to me…”. He hugged you closer and kissed the side of your jaw.

You felt tears prick your eyes, “Thank you…I honestly do not know what I would do without you”, you said meekly, wiping your face.

“Mhm…I love you Y/N”.

Overhaul

“Your room is so filthy; don’t you ever think about cleaning it up?”

You shuddered in your bed as you heard the monotone man step foot into your room. You could feel the man’s judgement in his voice and it made your eyes prick with tears.

“I am sorry boss”, you muttered, ashamed and disgusted with yourself. “I’ll do bett-“

“No.” He firmly said, cutting you off.

You could hear him breathe deeply, as if he was trying to muster up courage, before his gloved hand yank your body out of your bed and into his chest. Your eyes widening in disbelief.

“Sir?” You looked at him in bewilderment, knowing damn well you’re not up-to-date on his cleanliness protocol.

Suddenly, dread washed over you as you thought he was going to reconstruct you right here, or just kill you because of how you were, but he didn’t do either of those things. Instead, Kai dragged you into your bathroom.

“I told you to stop with the formality”, he grumbled underneath his mask, “now put your hands up”.

You did as you were told, and he slipped your shirt off, as well as your undergarments and socks. You felt the cold air surround you and as you were about to shiver and cover your body self-consciously, strong arms picked you up and gently placed you into the warm bath water.

Kai turned away to take off his mask and gloves off and set them neatly on the marbled vanity table before turning back to tend to you.

“Aren’t I dirty?” You muttered your eyebrows furrowing together.

His golden eyes looked at you, his face expressionless, “why else do you think I’m washing you?”, he asked in a more matter-of-fact tone, as he lathered your h/c hair with f/s shampoo.

You could feel your shoulder loosen up as he massaged your scalp, your body slowly sinking into the tub in bliss.

Kai’s eyes softened at the sight of your pure, fragile state. He saw you as someone worthy of so much and he hated when you got into your depressed states. He tried his best to build you up as much as he could, though some could argue that his methods were more-or-less tough love, but regardless the man adored you. Even if you rolled in mud and were covered head-to-toe in dog shit, he would still never view you as dirty. Kai held cleanliness next to godliness and you were a god(dess) to him.

“Don’t fall asleep on me angel”, he hummed, rinsing your hair off with the shower head.

You hummed in response, the warm water lulling you to sleep. “Too late…” you mumbled, and as soon as you said that you felt the shower head looming over you turn off and the sound of the bath tub being drained.

You were about to whine in protest when the same strong arms picked you back up and wrapped you into a warmed, soft towel.

“It is not good to fall asleep in the bath”, Kai scolded, wiping your body down and putting a new pair of clothes on you.

Once he was finished, you tried walking back to your bedroom, but he stopped you. “I am having your bedsheets changed currently so you cannot head back to bed yet. You can go once they are done.”

“Okay…thank you”, you said shyly.

Kai looked at you intensely for a moment before he wrapped his arms around you. “Y/N, I do not mind taking time out of my day to take care of you”, he said slowly, pressing his lips against your wet hair. “You’re my everything angel, I want to make sure you are always okay”.

You nodded in response, “Thank you Kai…for everything”.

“I love you angel".

Requests are Open!

[scuttling]

Long Time Coming

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,664 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch, Oblivious Hotch, Flirting, Reader has a few one night stands, Semi-public sex, Unprotected sex, Blow jobs/Face fucking, Hairpulling, Fingering, Praise and degradation, Dirty talk, Accidental reveal of feelings, TW blood/cut Summary: You have been in lust (and love) with Aaron for a while, but his new look sends you off the deep end, and it's enough to make you do some pretty crazy things. *Inspired by @ssamorganhotchner and these three pics. Link to A03 or read below! You are fresh off yet another unsuccessful first date when Aaron wears the new suit. You, Emily, JJ, and Penelope are standing by the coffee maker, complaining about the pitfalls of online dating and how people are never they way they seem when you actually meet in person; you have the carafe in your hand, filling your mug, and when he walks in, face in a case file, his pants so tight you can make out his hips and thighs as clearly as if he were naked… You kind of lose your shit. And your grip.

The carafe shatters when it hits the tile floor, spraying shards of glass and hot coffee everywhere; Emily gasps, Penelope jumps back to avoid the splatter, JJ runs for a broom, and you just stand there, staring at Aaron—at his tight slacks, at his belt, at his shirt, tucked neatly inside, then at his dangling tie, and finally, his worried face.

“Are you alright?” he asks, because you have literally not moved a muscle since he arrived; your boots are covered in coffee—you are thankful you dressed casually today and aren’t wearing heels, or you’d be in a lot of pain—and your heart is racing, but otherwise you feel frozen, unable to move or look away.

You’ve wanted Aaron for a long time, and everyone knows it but him. It’s part of the reason you’re smothering yourself with online hookups and blind dates and one night stands: because he is off limits, and you’re desperately horny for him, and you need to have him fucked out of your mind one way or another.

The new suit further complicates things.

“Fine,” you say after a few more seconds, and JJ comes back with the broom and dustpan, so you bend down to help her clean up your mess. It wasn’t your brightest idea, because you are now at eye level with the tight crotch of his pants, and all you can think of is working the zipper open, pulling him carefully past the fly, sucking him off until those big hands slip into your hair and tug roughly when he comes.

God. You’re going to have to go on another bad date. Or ten.

“New suit?” Penelope asks conversationally, as if you aren’t having a sexual crisis about it three feet away. “Looks good, boss.” Aaron runs his hand down his body self-consciously, but all you see are thick fingers and stomach and hnnngg…

JJ pinches the back of your arm hard, makes a face that screams get it together!!, and you take a deep breath.

“I took some of my old ones in for alterations and the salesman convinced me they were severely outdated. Do you like this style better?”

For some reason, it feels like he’s looking right at you, and you nod, dreamy-eyed, sweep your tongue over your lips.

“Better,” you rasp, and Emily and Penelope agree, probably to take the emphasis off of your slack mouth and dopey one-word answers. You try to help JJ clean up, picking up the larger pieces of glass and dropping them into the dustpan despite her protests—because you are very unfocused, shouldn’t be messing with sharp objects—and when you cut your finger on a piece, she just sighs. Such a mom.

You wince, and Aaron frowns, comes toward you, putting you not only at dick height, but a manageable dick distance, if you were so inclined; really, it’s more if he were so inclined, because you are actually fully prepared to swallow his load right here in front of your friends—all he’d have to do would be snap his fingers and point to his crotch, and the FBI would be suing you for mental distress and using the money to pay for therapy for Emily, Penelope, and JJ.

“Let’s get this cleaned up,” he says, snapping you out of your very elaborate fantasy (typically your fantasies don’t involve court costs, but this is Aaron, so anything is possible.) He wraps his hand around your injured finger and pulls you up to standing with the other, and you just follow along as he leads you over to the sink, turns on the tap to let the water run over your cut. The way you’re looking up at him like he’s the best thing you’ve ever seen has to be painfully obvious, but he just reaches over for the first aid kit, takes out a bandage, and wraps it carefully around the tip of your finger. You sigh.

It may have started out as lust, but you’re pretty sure you’re also in love.

You have got to find a way to get him to notice you as more than just an agent, a teammate, a friend, and so: Operation ‘Get Hotch Out Of His Tight Pants’ begins. You fill the girls in on your master plan, and they fill in Derek and Spencer just so there are more people to laugh at you when you crash and burn, probably. But you’ve got a plan, will be pulling out all the stops, so you might not fail horribly after all. Hopefully.

God, you absolutely cannot fail. You can’t go out with another software engineer with the personality of a peanut or another investment banker who thinks buying you an appetizer means you owe him a blow job in the front seat of his Tesla. You will go fucking insane.

Today’s plan is T for tits, because yours are pretty awesome and almost no one who is attracted to women can resist them. You wear your usual white button down top, but you leave the top two buttons undone, and you add a red, lacy bra for a little additional temptation.

“Here are those consults you asked for,” you say after knocking lightly on the doorframe; Aaron waves you inside. You set them down on his desk, then glance over the open folder in front of him, make a curious noise. “What are you working on up here?”

You walk around his desk, so you’re standing next to him, and lean forward to look over the case file with one hand on the back of his chair and the other pressed against the desk. If he would look over, he would see right down your top, your breasts high and smushed together thanks to the lacy push up… but he looks straight down at the file, taps his pen against it.

“Murders in Detroit. I don’t think we’ll go—they look like mob hits to me, so I’m going to refer the case to Organized Crime.” You hum, turn the file toward you and lean in a little closer, letting your hair spill over your shoulder, the neck of your blouse fall open. Boobs and perfume are usually a one-two punch that is capable of bringing any man to his knees, and while he does turn to look at you, it feels entirely too respectful for your liking. You sigh softly, give up for today, and turn the file back.

“Well you know best, boss. Any time I don’t have to go to Detroit is alright by me.” You flash him a smile, and he reciprocates, and you head back downstairs for a cup of coffee and maybe a stale shame pastry.

The team looks up at you when you approach, and you shake your head.

“No luck,” you mutter, and Derek laughs, crosses his arms over his chest.

“Maybe you’re not very good at flirting. What did you do?” You roll your eyes—your flirting is not the problem, it’s Aaron’s morals and manners or whatever—and walk over to Spencer’s desk, demonstrate with him what you did to Aaron; you put your hand on the back of his chair, toss your hair over your shoulder, lean in, and Spencer swallows hard, licks his lips, and looks abruptly down at his hands. That reaction, you would have gladly taken.

Derek clears his throat, and so does Emily. Hmm.

“I’m good at flirting,” you say, straightening up; Spencer is blushing, and it’s super cute, so you pat him lightly on the head. “Maybe he’s an ass man. I’ll wear a skirt tomorrow and we’ll see if that gets the job done.”

“Good idea,” Derek says, and when you walk past him, he gives you a once over that makes you feel pretty damn good. “In the meantime, why don’t you come and demonstrate on me?”

There’s no denying he is one of the finest men you’ve ever seen in your life, and earlier on in your career you might have taken him up on it—it would have to be better than Marty McTesla, that’s a given—but you know he’s mostly teasing, even if there is a thin layer of actual desire beneath it all. You just fluff your hair and take your seat and mentally flip through your closet to try to come up with an outfit Aaron can’t refuse. You decide on a pencil skirt, because that’s got to be every boss's fantasy, right? You have one you never wear to the office because it’s a little sexy, tight on your hips and ass, with a zipper up the back that you can open a little and use to your advantage. When you walk into the bullpen that morning, JJ whistles, and you grin, do a little twirl.

“Thank you, thank you. This has to work, right?” You turn to face Emily, then turn away from Emily, butt right in her face. “Emily? This will work, right?”

“That’s... definitely going to work,” she murmurs, tapping the cap of her pen against her teeth, and you have to admit you have a good feeling about this one. For as great as breasts are, your ass is your best asset, and if the open top and red bra didn’t work, this has to be your ticket to some sweet, dirty loving, it just has to.

You all head up for the morning meeting, filing into the briefing room, and you give Aaron a soft greeting and a smile just like every day, and then offer to help him pass out whatever stack of papers he’s holding in his hands—fire drills and emergency protocol, or something boring like that. He accepts the help, and you take the fliers, but instead of walking around and handing them to each member of the team like he would, you bend over the table, reach across, and drop the pages in front of everyone.

JJ is the furthest away, and you practically have to climb onto the table to reach her; you grin and wink when she takes the papers out of your hand, and she shakes her head like you’re too much, but when you stand back up to hand Aaron the extras, he doesn’t seem the slightest bit interested.

He thanks you for your help, and you take your seat and listen to him go on about emergency exits and fire extinguishers and seriously start to contemplate moving to Europe to start a new life, or something else equally dramatic.

Because you don’t give up easily, you orchestrate one more attempt to get him to show some interest in you. You know he usually goes downstairs to the cafeteria for lunch, and that the elevator is a jam-packed nightmare because the main stairwell is currently under construction (which is probably why you needed to go over safety protocol, now that you think about it; shutting down the stairwell seems very unsafe.) You usually pack your lunch, but you can go buy an overpriced salad for the sake of your sex drive, so you wait for the elevator when he does, making small talk about your mornings until it dings and arrives on your floor.

He tries to let you in first, gentleman that he is, but that won’t work with your plan, so you insist, earning eye rolls from the other passengers on the elevator. You give Amy from Forensic Accounting a dirty look and then step in after him, lean back against him because there’s really no fucking room to even take a breath.

He’s taller than you, but with heels on your ass still fits pretty nicely against his thighs; a little too nicely, you think, as you get wet just from standing near him in the elevator, the heat of his body through your skirt. You really are a mess.

There are two more floors to go before the cafeteria, and no one gets off, but more people manage to cram into the elevator, which means you press more tightly against him to make room. Someone bumps into you roughly, which makes you unsteady on your feet; Aaron puts his hands low on your hips to keep you from wobbling, and your eyes literally roll back in your head, but he just leans in to mutter, “sorry” into your ear. You say nothing, because you’d probably moan if you opened your mouth, but you shake your head so he knows it’s not a problem.

When everyone gets off downstairs, you hurry to the restroom and don’t look back, turn on the faucet and splash some cold water against your overheated neck and chest. So much for that plan. All you managed to do was work yourself up into a fury.

While you’re in line to pay for your overpriced salad, you open up your dating app and secure yourself drinks with a hot lawyer for tonight. Seduction is clearly not working with Aaron, he’s clearly not interested, and you have to find a way to move on before you have a spontaneous workplace orgasm and get fired from the job you love—all of his tight new suits have been dark so far, but if he shows up in gray, you’re not going to have the will to survive anymore. You have to plan for the worst.

The lawyer is nice enough, but he’s too short, too thin; it’s hard to imagine Aaron’s body weight on top of you when he’s fucking you, but you’re nothing if not resourceful, so you move your hands to his head of thick, dark hair and focus on that—that, and his hot breath against your throat when he comes a little too soon and mutters “sorry” into your ear.

“It’s okay,” you pant, reaching between you to rub your clit. You close your eyes, tip your head back, clench around him; you imagine it’s Aaron inside you instead, and bury your face in his shoulder when you come.

He’s willing to stay, but you explain why it’s better if he leaves, and then you fall back into bed, fumble for your vibrator, and get off again so you’re not too distracted by reality to really enjoy your fantasy.

It’s a little twisted, but it is what it is. You’re standing in the breakroom a few days later, swiping through the dating app and bullshitting with Derek and Penelope, when this guy pops up on your screen. He’s not your usual type, younger and blonder than you prefer these days, a pilot, but something about his profile makes you pause; when it hits you, you blow out a breath and look up at your friends.

“So you guys know Operation ‘Get Hotch Out Of His Tight Pants’ is officially dead in the water,” you begin, and they nod, “and now I’m focusing my energy on trying to get over him. I went on a date with a guy that kind of looked like him, and that didn’t really help, but what if…” You turn your screen to face them; Derek nods like it might be crazy enough to work, but Penelope grimaces.

“No, I don’t think that’s going to work. It might actually be crossing a line,” she says with a frown, and you look to Derek for his input.

“It’s more of a coincidence than anything, right? It’s not like he’s unattractive and this is the only reason you’re going out with him. He’s a good looking guy,” he admits, and you’re really grateful he’s willing to help you rationalize this probably terrible idea into a potentially decent idea.

You send the pilot a message, and he wants to meet up; he suggests a bar near the both of you, and you know it’s risky, but you tell him you happen to make a great gin and tonic and that you have everything you need at home, if he’d like to meet you there instead.

He does, and you don’t even make him that drink, just take off his clothes, get him into your bed.

“That’s right, babe—wanna hear you lose it for me. Say my name, gorgeous,” he groans, fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you from behind, and you close your eyes, fist your hands in the sheets, and give him what he wants.

“Oh, fuck, Aaron. Fuck me harder.” His thrusts are already rough and punishing, but this is the best you’ve felt in a really long time, so you’re eager, desperate for more. “Yeah, Aaron, just like that.”

“Tell me my big cock feels so good in your pussy.” He slaps your ass, and you moan involuntarily, press back against him, panting.

“Your big cock feels so good, Aaron, so good in my pussy. Fuck me, Aaron, destroy me.” He grunts, tenses, and moves his hands to your shoulders, slamming your body tight against his as he comes. “Yes, don’t stop, Aaron, don’t stop,” you plead, hips working together, and when he smacks your ass again you come gasping his name, collapsing against the bed with a breathless sigh.

You feel a lot dirtier than you expected you would, even though it was kind of awesome, and ultimately Penelope was right; it was fun while it lasted, but it didn’t do a damn thing to help you forget about the only Aaron you actually want in your bed. Monday morning, Aaron comes into the office wearing a tight navy suit with a striped white shirt and a navy tie, and you follow him with your eyes from the glass double doors all the way up to his office, mouth open a little. Your eyes get heavy and your breathing picks up, which is the dumbest biological reaction to a man’s ass you’ve ever had—but god, it’s a perfect ass—and JJ has to actually lightly slap your cheek to get you to snap the fuck out of it.

“Are you horny right now?” she asks, a little grossed out. “I can’t handle you.”

“I know you guys all call him a tightass, but I mean, if the pants fit… and god, do they fit.” You pick up a case file and fan yourself with it. “He’s so fucking hot. What am I supposed to do? Getting railed by fake Aaron didn’t do shit; I think I might actually have to transfer.”

“You’re not transferring. You just have to get over it.”

“Are you kidding? She’s like a cat in heat when he’s around,” Derek says with a smirk. “I think I’m getting horny just because she’s horny.”

“Okay, so why can’t I have that effect on him?” you ask with your arms open. “Do you think it’s the pheromones? Maybe they’re incompatible. Smell me—does it turn you on?” you ask Spencer, presenting your neck, and he looks like a deer in the headlights, then leans in to sniff you.

“Uh… you smell nice?” he says with a shrug and a half smile. “I think it’s just your perfume, though.”

“Put your face near her boobs,” Derek says, and Spencer starts to lean in again. “I think the pheromones are stronger there.” He pauses about halfway to your chest.

“Actually, they’re stronger near the genitals, but I don’t think that’s appropriate.”

“What’s going on down there?” You freeze and then turn to look up at Aaron’s office, where he leans against the doorframe; Spencer stands up comically fast, and you take a step back, clearing your throat. Aaron’s scowling—it’s really sexy and it’s making your heart beat in your stupid, traitor pussy—and then he sighs visibly. “We have a case, come on.”

The case is only a half hour away, so you drive, which is horrible, because you are with Aaron and Derek, and Derek lets you sit in the front just to watch you squirm.

It gets bad before you even pull out of the parking garage, because Aaron puts his hand on the back of your headrest to look behind him and reverse the SUV, and you look over at his body—his stomach, his lap, his thighs—and then quickly face forward when he puts the car into drive. You’re flushed, breathing heavily, and when he looks you over quizzically, asks if you’re alright, you just clear your throat and nod.

“Allergies,” Derek supplies from the back, and you mentally thank him for the save, but you kind of also want to smack him for putting you in this position in the first place.

You’re practically turned on the entire ride, even as you go over the details of the case, because his legs are spread and your eyes keep moving to his crotch; at one point, you think you notice his already unfairly tight pants getting a little tighter, but it’s just a trick of light.

By the time you arrive at the precinct, you are more than ready for fresh air, to put some distance between yourself and Aaron. You’re out of the car almost as soon as he turns off the engine, which probably looks weird as hell, but for your sanity you can’t give it too much thought.

The head detective and a junior detective give you a run down on the case while the other half of your team meets with officers at the crime scene. The head detective, a tall, handsome man in his forties, is looking at you like you’re a juicy steak and he hasn’t eaten in months; Derek notices, turns to you with a raised eyebrow and mouths ‘pheromones,’ Aaron is clearly unhappy about the detective’s lack of professionalism, and you couldn’t really care less about the attention. You just want to do your job and go home and touch yourself to thoughts of your boss… as one does.

The local police already have a board made up, so the three of you travel to speak with some witnesses, head back to the precinct, work the tip lines. Aaron seems to be looking at you more than usual, and when you get up to stretch your legs, he’s right behind you, following you out into the hall.

“Are you sure you're alright today?” he asks with a serious expression, hands on his hips. Your mouth waters. “You’ve been acting a little strange.”

“Stranger than normal?” You try to smile, to lighten the mood, but as oblivious as he’s been about everything else, he’s always been able to tell when you try to hide your emotions with humor.

“The last couple weeks? Yes.” He moves a little closer, and you try your best not to let it affect you—or at least not to let it show when it does. “You know by now that you can come to me anytime, for anything.” He doesn’t present it as a question, but it’s clear on his face that he’s looking for an answer.

“I know. I’m going through something… stupid,” you say with a shrug. “Something I should be able to handle, but it’s harder than I imagined.” He frowns, flicks his eyes over your face.

“Let me help you.”

“You can’t; trust me, you can’t,” you say, pleading with your voice, begging him to drop it. “I’ll get through it.” You shut your eyes briefly, exhale, and he reaches down to take one of your hands in his.

“Are you in trouble?” This is the most intimately he’s ever touched you, and it’s not just your body that sings; you know you’re in love with him, have been for a while, but focusing on the horny feelings is easier. It makes it feel like you have less to lose.

“No, it’s nothing like that. I just need some time. Thank you.” You squeeze his hand, and then Derek pokes his head into the hall behind him.

“We got a tip about the unsub barricading a house downtown; the detective is mobilizing SWAT,” he says; when he glances down at your hands, you pull yours softly out of Aaron’s grasp.

“What do you want us to do, boss?” you ask, effectively ending your conversation, and he tells you to get suited up with comms and Kevlar so the three of you can head to the new scene. Aaron is, unsurprisingly, a complete badass, storming the house along with SWAT, you at his side; it’s his way of reminding you that he trusts you, that it can and should go both ways—he is so perfectly predictable, reassuring with gestures over words even in a situation like this one. It does nothing to help you stop wanting him.

He’s a little rough with the unsub (and that doesn’t help either,) looks ruffled and kind of pissed when you climb in the SUV to head back to the precinct. Spencer, JJ, and Emily meet you there, and you take the opportunity to vent about how indescribably good Aaron has looked all day—Spencer bows out of the conversation early, but JJ and Emily are kind enough to listen to your insane, horny ramblings.

“He’s just so hot—he always has been, but the new suits? They’re so tight, and his shirts show off his tummy, and his pants show off his thighs… You guys will never understand the things I want to do to him.”

“Okay, he’s handsome enough, but you’re nasty about it—I can’t handle you,” JJ says, not for the first time. You groan in response.

“How can you say that? Have you fucking seen him? I’m not supposed to think nasty thoughts when he walks around looking like that?”

You feel yourself getting a little out of hand, and Emily and JJ look like they’re trying to shut you up, but you can’t stop yourself. It’s like the floodgates have opened.

“He’s never going to know what I want to do to him… what I want him to do to me. I tried so hard, and he didn’t even look at me. All I wanted to do was get on my knees for him and grab his ass so he could fuck my throat as hard as fucking possible—is that so much to ask for?” You pause, but neither of them say anything, just look scandalized. “I guess I’m going to have to name my vibrator Hotch now, since that’s clearly the closest I’ll ever get to him giving me an orgasm.”

“Do you really mean that?”

You jump a fucking foot, spin around, almost knocking Emily and JJ over in the process; Aaron is in front of you, his brow furrowed, arms crossed over his vest (he hasn’t taken that thing off yet? You threw yours on the table like the minute you got back), and your mouth opens and your eyes close at the same time.

Oh fucking fuck.

“We’re gonna… go,” Emily says awkwardly, and you open your eyes abruptly when Aaron speaks again.

“No, we’re going to go; come with me,” he tells you, and he turns and heads down the hall; you look back at Emily and JJ, swallow hard, and follow him, your heart beating fast.

He steps into a small room with a copy machine, table, shelves of paper and envelopes and other supplies, and closes the door behind you, engages the lock. You are torn between being very worried he’s going to fire you and super turned on, because this is definitely a fantasy you’ve had before.

“Aaron,” you begin, running a hand through your hair. “I’m sorry. I think it was the adrenaline; it makes me run my mouth and I can’t stop it, you know that.” He’s facing away from you, his hands on his hips again, and you can see the way his body moves when he sighs.

“Did you mean it, though?” When he turns to look at you, he doesn’t look angry, he looks… nervous. “Do you want me?” His reaction is unexpected—not great, but not necessarily bad—and you bite your lip, nod.

“Yeah. So fucking bad. And I’m sorry—” That’s as far into your apology as you get before his mouth is on yours, his hands on your face, lips pressing against you for a rough, eager kiss. Your hands move to his waist, pulling him closer by the vest, and he lifts you up onto the table, tugs down the v-neck of your t-shirt, mouths at your throat.

“You think I didn’t look at you?” he says when he pulls away for a breath, tipping your chin down so you’ll look into his eyes. “You think I didn’t see that lacy red bra, your perfect ass bent over in the tight skirt? You think I didn’t feel it pressed against me in the elevator, that I didn’t want to push that skirt up and sink inside you and take you there in front of everyone?”

You moan, chest heaving, twist your fingers in his hair and pull him in for another kiss, dripping and trembling at his admission.

“I would have let you,” you murmur against his lips, and there’s no doubt in your mind that you would have, if that’s what he’d wanted. “I would let you do anything: not just let you, but I’d want it, beg for it. I meant what I said—I’d get on my knees for you, anytime, anywhere, do whatever you want me to do. I want to be yours.”

He catches your mouth in another rough kiss, then puts his hands on your waist, guides you off the table, and flips open his belt, the fly of his pants.

“Oh god. What are you doing?” you ask, and he slides down his zipper, pulls you with him until his back hits the door.

“I’m giving you what you asked for,” he rasps, staring into your eyes, his gaze smoldering. It’s so fucking hot your pussy clenches.

You lick your lips, drop to your knees on the tile floor so hard it hurts, tug his pants open and pull out his thick, hard, veiny cock.

Your dreams and fantasies did not do it justice.

“Fuck. Thank you,” you mumble, looking up at him, and he wraps his hands in your hair, pulls tightly. You moan just from that and the heft of him in your hand. “Thank you.”

“Shh.” He scrapes his fingers over your scalp, hums as you start stroking him, licking the head. “Don’t thank me—I should be thanking you, beautiful, perfect girl. In what world do I get this?” There are lots of things you want to say to that, but you’ve waited long enough, will have to say them later.

You lick your lips, collect lots of saliva, and take him into your mouth, get your hands on his ass and dig your nails in. Aaron groans, tightens his fingers in your hair, and when you look up at him it feels like a fever dream, like it’s not real but a delicious figment of your imagination.

For a minute or two, you stroke him with a tight, wet mouth, and it’s got you aching between your legs, but he’s supposed to be fucking your throat, technically, if he’s giving you what you asked for. You pull off, tell him that, and he tugs your head back roughly, guides you back onto his cock and starts thrusting into your mouth, earning vibrating moans around it.

“God, you’re so perfect. How long have you been thinking about this? How long have you touched yourself to the thought of me fucking your pretty face?” He picks up the pace, pushes deeper when he sees you can handle it, and you squeeze his ass, feel your eyelids flutter as he uses your mouth, pulls your hair. “Are you a whore for me?” he grinds out, and the moan that rips from your throat is inhuman, embarrassing, and absolutely accurate. “Yes you are, baby, yes you are. My pretty whore, on your knees, mouth stretched wide and filled with cock.”

You’ve never been so turned on from a blow job, but this is Aaron, hot and dirty and forceful, everything you imagined and more. You squeeze him tighter, encourage rougher treatment, and he presses his hands against the back for your head, slams his dick in so deep it aches; you don’t gag, but it’s a near thing, and when he pulls you off you gasp for breath and whimper at the loss at the same time.

“Enough of that, baby. You were perfect, so good for me, almost choking on my cock, but I bet your pussy is wet and aching. Do you want me inside it?”

“Holy—yes, fuck, please. Please,” you breathe, and he helps you to your feet and then pushes you against the door, gets your pants down. His rough treatment has you whining, gripping the hair on the back of his head, and you kick off your boots and socks so you can step out of your pants completely. “Keep all this on,” you tell him, pants and shirt and tie and Kevlar vest and all, and he nods, kisses you deeply, presses two fingers inside you.

“Fuck,” he groans when you receive him easily, soft and wet and open, and he uses his free hand to sweep down your top, slipping the buttons loose so he can get a better view of your tits and black lace bra that’s holding them. “So beautiful, and finally mine,” he mutters against your throat, and you whine, let your head fall back against the door, and give in to the pleasure of his thick fingers moving inside you.

“Finally mine,” you murmur, tugging his hair, slamming down against his hand, and when you come it’s like a miracle; you cry out, clamp down, and wrap your free hand around his bicep and squeeze until you’re lightheaded, dazed, desperate for another.

You kiss, deep and passionate and filthy, and Aaron slides his fingers into your mouth, pumps them a few times, then kisses you again.

“Good girl. Are you ready for my cock now?” You pant, gasp, and nod your head, and he pushes your shirt off your shoulders, lifts your legs so you’ll wrap them around his waist, and pushes inside you. You both moan, kiss, moan again, and then you wrap your arms around his broad back, hook your fingers in his vest, and hold on while he pounds your body roughly against the door.

“Oh, Aaron, fuck. Yeah. Want you to slam your body against mine; want to feel it, want to feel all of you.” He looks into your eyes, breathing hard, fucks up into you, hands on your ass, his hips and torso pinning you in place.

“Sweet, pretty, slutty girl,” he pants, spreading you open and shoving himself inside your pussy. “You tried tempting me, and oh, did it work. I might not have shown it…” He ducks in to kiss the base of your throat and you cling tighter, rock against his hips. “But it worked. You dressed like a whore just for me, just so I’d notice you; do you I know went home and stroked my cock and came with your name on my lips?”

“Holy shit. That’s so hot.” You move a hand to his hair again, can’t not thread your fingers there now that it’s allowed. “Could have fucked me like this then. Could have come in my pussy, not your hand.”

“We’ll make up for lost time,” he promises, and he thrusts up with his whole body, so you can feel it pressed against yours—shoulders, chest, stomach, all the very best parts of him. “I’m not too much for you? Can you take it?”

“Perfect for me,” you gasp, holding tightly to his vest at his shoulder and his shirt at his hip, bouncing into his thrusts. “So perfect, want you. I can take it. I can take it, Aaron.” Your mouths meet for a messy, hot kiss, lots of tongue, and you groan. “Give it to me, give it all to me.”

He bends his knees a little more, fucks you so rough and hard your mouth falls open and all you can do is whimper, clutch him, gracelessly kiss back when he presses his lips to yours.

He comes first, holds tightly to your hip and pumps inside you, fills you and then some, so it drips out while he’s still inside. It feels sinful, even after everything, and with a few rough drags of his palm over your lace covered nipple, you tighten and grip him and gasp out his name.

You both slow, and then he turns you, leans back against the door for a little relief after holding you up for so long. He nuzzles into your hair, and you bury your face in his neck, and you kiss soft and sweet until you’re feeling stable enough to hop out of his arms and put your clothes back on. He rights his as well, and when you’re both put together he wraps you up in a hug, kisses you, holds you with soft hands on your cheeks.

“I really have waited so long for this.” He brushes his lips over yours, and you sigh. “You never indicated… I was trying to be professional. Then out of nowhere you were leaning over my desk and bending over the table, and I was a little blown away.” You nod, can see that, pull him down for a kiss.

“It’s the goddamn suits,” you say with a half smile, and he gives you a curious look. “Your new, better fitting suits? They fit you so fucking well it’s almost illegal; I’m thinking of pursuing charges against your tailor for reckless endangerment on behalf of my libido, and the coffee carafe, and my poor, worn out vibrator.” He chuckles, hugs you closer, squeezes you so tightly against his body you almost pass out from all the good things you feel.

“Maybe we can strike a deal,” he murmurs, pushing your hair back behind your ear, and you bite your lip, nod.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll think of something you can do to make it worth my while.” After a little more hugging and kissing, the two of you figure it’s time to emerge from the supply closet; you don’t see your team anywhere, which surprises you, but when you get to your phone and pull up your texts, it all makes sense.

Derek: Congrats on the sex. The four of us headed home because no one wants to ride with the two of you and your pheromones.

Emily: Yay, you did it!! Drinks on me next time we go out!

JJ: You guys are loud; don’t make a habit of that.

Penelope: I hear congrats are in order! And by hear, I don’t mean hear. There’s NOT an audio clip or anything, so don’t worry about that!!

Spencer: Emily took an audio clip. Is it normal for girls to enjoy being called a whore? You don’t have to answer that.

You take a very deep breath, give him the gist of the messages—you’re on your own, they heard at least part of it, there is some potentially damning evidence that needs to be destroyed—and you leave the precinct to head home in a better mood than you’ve been in in a very long time.

Aaron takes you out for a late dinner, and he spends the night at your place, falls asleep warm and solid and very naked in the middle of your bed.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner

[yandere-sins]

I see that ur request is open, u don't have to do mine (I just rly wanna see how this gonna turn out 🤡)

But may i request a yandere farmer x fem reader

(I'm not rly into any fandom so you can just pick any or Rhys is fine too 👀)

My jam, and you know what? I owe everyone named Alex something, so let me create this wonderful buff farmer!yandere named Alex who I don’t kill off this time, I promise. Enjoy!

I uh, did hint at my ideas for yandere farmers with Milo from Pokémon before so yeah. Let’s go over that again, shall we? I’ll give a warning for pet play for those unfamiliar.

Rated Lime

»»———————— ♡ ————————««   

It’s still early in the morning when you hear the jarring sound of the barn door opening. For a moment, you hope that all you experienced for the last few days had been a dream, but your body still aches from sleeping on the cold ground, revealing the heavy truth. You can hear the chipper, “Good morning, ladies!” as the cows start to moo in response, the unbearable smell of fecal and urine drifting towards you with the fresh air coming in from outside.

It’s time to get up, scream, do something! But you blink a few times, your swollen eyes barely opening after you cried yourself to sleep last night, and you look at the iron cuffs around your wrists. Why even trying? you ask yourself, immediately discarding the thought and pushing yourself from the floor. No, it’s too early to give up. You can’t let yourself down like this yet.

“And good morning, Sunshine.” The voice next to you makes you flinch as you look up into the chestnut eyes of your captor. He tips his cap, smiling. You’re disgusted by his presence alone, but a sweet smell comes your way. Leaning over the wooden barriers he put up as your ‘pen’, Alex holds a plate in his hands, pancakes stacking up on top of it with blueberries rolling off of them. The food is still warm, steam visibly rising from them in the colder morning air.

He looks at you expectantly when you don’t make a move, only trying to hide the saliva building in your mouth. You haven’t had a homemade breakfast in a long time, much less proper food in the last few days. There is no telling if your body can still stomach something as delicious as pancakes, but you prefer it so much more than the weird grain mix he also feeds to the cows and would shove down your throat. “Thought you might be hungry, Babe,” he smiles as he sees the desire in your eyes, his own gaze never straying from you, taking in every last flinch and move of yours.

In a way, you are like a wild animal to him, that much he told you. He restricted your movements with chains, fed you like cattle, and treated you like a dog, cooing and using the carrot and stick method to handle you. It’s disgusting, but by now, you at least feel as dirty as one. Using the fork he brought along, Alex cuts off a piece from the breakfast, eating from it first, his eyes staring into yours as he does it. Did he do it to show he didn’t poison it? Does he want to claim this plate of pancakes for himself? But why would he bring it to you in the first place if that’s the case?

Still chewing, he puts the fork down, pulling another pancake piece off the plate with his bare fingers, and holds it out to you. He was eager to lessen the distance between you and him from day one, but his dirty methods made you want to spit in his face. Stomach growling, you are at a loss of what to do. If you let him feed you like a dog, there was no way he’d keep it at that, but perhaps this was your only chance on receiving actual, human food he’d give you if you refuse him.

Your chains rattle as you scoot closer, refusing to play the captured animal and crawl on all fours. Every muscle of yours is sore and hurt from the cold, but there is no other way, the chains around your wrists and ankles keeping you down with their weight. Instead, you stretch your neck as far as possible, your back tensing up in response until your mouth is under his fingers and the piece of pancake hanging from them. But Alex doesn’t just let the food go, watching you with an excited grin as you carefully put the piece between your teeth. Only then does he let go, and you are able to claim the sweet sensation on your tongue as yours.

Eager, Alex holds out another piece, and you take it without even swallowing the first one completely. Something in you completely set out as your brain is satisfied with sugary sweet and fluffy pancakes melting in your mouth, their warmth going through your whole body. You are hooked on the rush of food, you don’t notice your tongue lapping up the syrup on his fingers with the next piece of pancake until it’s too late. But Alex notices, his lips immediately turning into a disgusting grin of self-satisfaction, and he reaches for your face, fingers curling under your chin and thumb rubbing over your cheek.

Immediately, you shy away, disgusted by his touch and disappointed in yourself that you didn’t see it coming. In the reflection of his wide-open, maniacally staring eyes, you can see how dirty and disgusting you are after living like a barn animal for days, and that is precisely how Alex sees you. An animal that he just touched for the first time. Who came to him of their own free will. To him, it is progress. To you, despair.

“Come,” he entices, luring you with more pancakes, but you feign disinterest. “Don’t be scared now. I know you like it.”

The pancakes? Yes. Him? Not at all.

“You need to eat to get big and strong, you know?”

“I’m not a baby animal,” you hiss back, putting on the meanest glare you can muster.

“You sure act like one,” Alex reminds you tauntingly, his smile unfading but his expression less amused than it had been before. “Licking at my fingers, coming to me for food. Don’t you think that’s what a good pet does? You’ve been holed up in your corner for too long. You should be more grateful for my efforts, just like the cows.”

Gnawing at your lip, your eyes fall from his to the pancake slowly growing cold. Only now do you realize he has been feeding you with these fingers of his without your knowledge if they were dirty or clean. Being a farmer, you never know where he puts them before approaching you, and you grow more disgusted for having fallen into this trap he had laid out for you.

Suddenly, for the first time, you hear him sigh. Even when he scratched his head and wondered what to do with you before, he never once had sighed. Somehow, it makes you shudder, a bad feeling spreading in your stomach as he hangs his head, shaking it.

“I’m not asking much, you know. Here’s the deal.” His eyes are ice-cold as he looks up again, and Alex roughly throws the piece of pancake to the floor right in front of you. It no longer looks appetizing, but you are more afraid of the man before you than the wasted food. “Eat it,” he orders commandingly, fitting this whole scenario he imagines you two to play in.

“Ew, no--” you want to protest, furrowing your brows when he interrupts you harshly by throwing the whole plate, including the pancakes, to the ground inside your pen. “In less than an hour, your whole fucking pen will be swarmed by ants. But I’ve got something better for you.”

Pointing to the piece of food before you, Alex repeats, “Eat it,” and this time, you don’t dare to respond. “Eat, and you can come inside with me.”

At this, your ears perk up, eyes widening. “I-Inside?” you ask, doubting that he meant what he said. “Yeah. I prepared a nice box for you in the house, warm and cozy. Clean water and a hot shower included, but I need to know that you are willing to listen to me, you understand?”

Body trembling, you sit there like a deer in the headlights. This is too good to be true, and you fear how high the price is that you’d have to pay if agreed. Listening to him can’t possibly be the only thing he’d want once you were inside, but you watch as the first few flies come over from the cows, wanting to get a piece of the delicious breakfast wasted on the ground. You’d have no peace if you stayed here - never.

Your hand reaches out but just as quickly pulls back. “What will we do inside?” you squeak, unable to control your anxious stuttering. Now that Alex’s lips curl back into a smile, you see his sinister side for the first time. He is leaning casually onto the barricade, but his whole demeanor changed into something horrifying, something that gives you the vibes of a sick and twisted person more than ever. “Don’t ask, just decide. Eat and come inside with me, or stay here between cows, piss, and shit. Maybe you can be useful for milk production?”

The pure horror of thinking about what that fate would entail makes you go weak, and in less than a few seconds, you had gobbled up the piece of pancake, stuffing it into your mouth. Immediately you feel the recoil of your body after doing something so disgusting, but you hold back from spitting it out, already having come so far. “Good girl,” he praises you in a belittling tone like you’d use for pets and children. Opening up your pen by unlocking the many locks he had put on for safety, Alex doesn’t mind the food on the ground, neither slipping on it and breaking his neck like you hoped for, nor having shards of the plate go through his boots.

“Give me your hand,” he asks, holding his own out until you slowly lift yours into his. The chains are way too heavy, but the fear keeps you working even though your wrists are open wounds from the chafing cuffs. “Good,” he keeps praising, repeating the progress for your other hand. “You’re learning so quickly, look at you. Attagirl!”

You don’t dare to rub your bleeding wrists as they are finally free, but a giant boulder falls from your heart as you feel relief set in. “Damn, you do need a good bath, though,” Alex mutters as he sits down beside you, proceeding to uncuff your ankles. You feel a sense of shame, not being able to smell yourself anymore but not wanting to imagine it either.

Finally, you are free of all restrains, but before you can try doing anything funny, Alex picks you up in his arms, his broad chest in front of your face and the smell of aftershave and sweat filling your nose. You didn’t know that was how he smelled. After all, he brought you here unconscious, and when you woke up, you were already in this shitty pen, cuffed and gagged for the first two days.

“Feeling good?” he asks you as he notices how quiet you’ve gotten, not much left of your spiteful self that would scream and curse at him before. You nod slowly, not looking up. Looking at him from close-up might cause you to puke after all, and you’ve worked too hard to get to this point. Alex gives you a rough, scolding shake, and you instinctively grip onto his shirt. “Tell me.”

“Yes...” you mumble, hoping that will be enough to satisfy him, and Alex gives you another sigh before shrugging lightly and adjusting you in his arms. “That’s something we can work on,” he promises you for another time, and you keep your head low as he carries you outside.

It’s been way too long that you saw the morning dew on the grass, fog covering the fields in the distance, and the sun only starting to fully rise above you. It makes you look up in awe, unknowingly being observed by a curious pair of eyes from above. Being outside again almost makes the trouble worth it, and you are able to find happiness in this small victory.

But you have yet to grasp the consequences of your decision. Even if it looked great in the image you had in your mind, you aren’t aware of the state of the house inside, what was waiting for you behind the pretty facade of a farmer’s home. The demands he has of you that Alex had yet to reveal and how eager he was to train his adorable little darling. Make you just as dependant and obsessed with him as his animals were, while you’d share their place at the end of the bed for a long time.

And you didn’t even know about the collar yet.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««  

A/N: Oh god, I haven’t written anything in the present tense for a loooong time. I hope it was readable! Sorry in advance if I messed up occasionally, I tried to get everything sorted out properly... >_< Still, a very enjoyable write and I hope the read as well!

[bubblyhoney]

can i request a fic where sapnap takes the reader to his hometown? like the classic going to places he went to when he was younger. maybe playgrounds and ice cream shops idk

places i used to go

warnings: language of course, an allusion to virginap, my uneducated guess of what sapnap was like in highschool, tiny detail of long haired!sapnap, singular canon detail of underage drinking, jokish about marriage

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

words: 2191

A/N: you are a god, anon. i love comfy and nostalgic fics like these and it was so fun to write. if you hate it dont tell me but if you like it lemme know akskdjd

inbox/requests: open

-

The wind whips fast on your bare fingers, cool and quick and raising goosebumps in its wake. You blink in the haze of the early sunset, head lolled to the side of the headrest. It feels good.

“That’s where I went to high school.” Sapnap interrupts your thoughts and points a finger at a collection of tall brick buildings down a side street. The silver of the lettering is dull, but you can still feel the nostalgia.

“And you’re about to see the park that me and my friends used to hang out at after work and—actually, nevermind.” His arm drops to the middle console and he looks straight ahead with slightly pinker cheeks.

“Do what?” You ask, voice all sweet, and a grin grows on your face. You turn towards him and wiggle your eyebrows.

“Nothing. Homework.” He avoids your eye contact and hikes his hand up higher on the steering wheel. “Anyways— Do you want to get some food before we head out? I know a great place.”

You two were just coming to a close on your little trip to visit his family; it was his step-mom’s birthday and you decided to make a week of it. It was your first long-term trip with Sapnap, and also your first time meeting his dad’s side of the family. You were proud to say she loved you. His little sister took a little more effort to talk to you of her own volition, but soon enough she was on your side.

You have a couple hours to kill before making your flight back home, so Sapnap has taken it upon himself to give you a quick tour of his hometown.

“Yeah,” you decide, bottom lip popped out. “Can we get ice cream after?”

“Uh, duh.” The Neighbourhood’s Stargazing starts through the speakers and he reaches to turn it down. “I’m so ready to get home and sleep.” He stretches his neck in his seat, letting out an uncharacteristically inappropriate grunt when his bones pop. You make a disgusted face, nose wrinkling, but stretch your own back, slumping down in the seat. The day had been full of packing up and this horrible hike his dad liked to do early in the mornings, so you two were pretty beat.

“Okay, we’re here,” he announces three sleepy minutes later in his best attempt at a whisper. Lifting your head off of the corner of your seat, you blink in the setting sunlight as a yawn splits your face. “You’re so cute.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, and struggle to get your seatbelt off in that post-nap haze. You’d barely been asleep for thirty seconds, damn it. The air is a swampy heat when you step out of the car onto rocky gravel and nearly twist your ankle climbing over the curb. Sapnap catches you by the lower back, trying to hide his laugh but failing miserably. You slide him a dirty look, smacking his shoulder as hard as you can manage while limping towards the front entrance.

The door jingles when you two breach the doorway, alerting a bored-looking hostess that the circus has arrived. She looks at Sapnap a second longer than she should, eyebrows screwed together in silent confusion. But she leads the two of you to a booth near a large window, handing you sticky menus and promptly fucking right off to the host station. She nearly runs.

“Do you know her?” You ask, inconspicuously hiding your face in the search for their 24/7 breakfast menu. You feel his eyes on you.

“Don’t think so.” He leans on one elbow and slides his phone out of his jeans’ pocket. In the 25 seconds it takes for you to find their french toast and sides menu, he has browsed and closed his phone with an animatedly shocked look on his face.

“What?” You give him a weird look and put down the menu.

“I totally went to homecoming with that girl.” He eyes the hostess. You glance over at her again, meeting her gaze, and offer a polite smile. She turns away quickly, eyes wide.

“She’s cute,” you say, voice high and fake, and he drums his fingers on the tabletop as an amused look makes its way onto his face.

“Are you—?”

“What?” You reply right back.

“Nothing.”

Thank God the server comes up to your table then and starts asking for drink orders, or else you’d have to admit (sheepishly) you were a tiny eensy-weensy bit annoyed. Only a tad. But after requesting a Dr. Pepper and a water the conversation surrounding the nervous-looking hostess dies.

“I’m so hungry I think I feel my stomach shrinking.” You flop your head onto your arm on the table top and make a whiny noise into the stack of napkins your server left at the table. Sapnap rubs his thumb into the side of your forearm, touch warm and nearly dissolving the pangs of hunger and jealousy.

“You weren’t hungry an hour ago.” He lifts your hand to his face and plants a kiss on the back of it. Oh, pulling out the big guns, huh? “I would have made you something.”

You tilt onto your chin, pouting, and stare up at his cute face. His cute, scruffy, perfectly-kissable face.

“I think I got hungry staring at you for half an hour.” A mischievous grin grows on your previously-petulant face and he just shakes his head.

“I do have that effect,” he admits with cockiness in his tone, lifting his eyebrows and leaning back into the booth with his lips pursed.

The server returns with two glasses and takes your food orders onto their little yellow notepad. You chug the water down when they leave for the kitchen, getting your lap and chin thoroughly wet in the process. Sapnap just snorts at you and shoves the napkins your way.

“So,” you start, patting dry your jeans. “tell me what you were like in high school.” You cross your arms and settle into the booth, smirk on your lips.

“What I was like?” He parrots, sipping at his soda, looking thoughtful. “Firstly, a virgin.” You make a noise. Duh. Dude had a buzz cut his junior year. (You’ve seen the pictures. His step-mom particularly likes them.) “Secondly, I was actually— well, I wasn’t popular, but I had a lot of friends. We were all semi-athletic lonely band kids but we had fun. Had one girlfriend senior year but she went to Cal Tech in the fall and I didn’t. I, um, worked at a Dairy Queen in the summers and gained so much weight I had to lose all over again for Unified Track.”

“Relatable,” you comment, drinking noisily at your water. He fiddles with the paper straw wrapper and crunches it up into a ball. It goes soaring into your drink with a quiet “Kobe” and you just give him a look. He smiles toothily right back at you. “Stop being cute, I’m trying to listen to your story.”

“Oh, my bad,” he mocks. “Anyways. That’s what I was like in highschool.” You fish the paper ball out of your water and flick it wetly at his arm. It sticks and you choke on a laugh, cheeks puffed.

Two plates of warm food are set down loudly onto the table and you thank the server with a surprised smile, Sapnap mirroring you.

Two minutes of wordless chewing passes, minds occupied just by “food, me eat” instead of anything related to your previous conversation. You realize that Sapnap is one of the loudest chewers ever, and he realizes that you fail to notice the streak of maple syrup in your hair.

“C’mere,” he mumbles through a mouthful of omelet and hash browns and beckons you with his hand. You lean closer, chewing slowly, as he pats a napkin at the strands of hair trapped in syrup.

“Thanks, baby.” You take the napkin from him and pause your assault of the warm french toast before you to clean the sticky sugar out of your hair. He just watches you, half of a smile on his lips.

You two finish your food in record time. It’s borderline vacuum-like. There’s a short grace period where you just sit like two lazy cats, slumped down in the booth and holding your full stomachs. But the check comes soon after, and you both pay your way and are out of the restaurant without any mad dashes for the bathroom. A miracle, really, because of the American-like amount of butter you both consume.

“I’m a much more functional person now,” you mutter into the cotton of his shoulder, swinging your hand in his. He just hums in agreement.

“I guess we’re not getting ice cream, then,” he teases, and you just groan in response.

“I don’t feel like having diarrhea on a plane, unfortunately.” You sigh heavily when you have to split and get into your respective sides of the rental car.

The entire trip (somewhat roundabout because of the amount of side quests to show you things from his childhood) to the airport Sapnap is a chatterbox. He’s like this when he has sugar: either bouncing off the walls with energy or talking your ear off.

“That’s where my dad proposed to my step-mom. I was kinda young but I remember being surprised at how big the ring was— dude broke the bank for her.” It’s a little gazebo you catch a glimpse of through the trees in a park. It probably was an incredibly picturesque moment, and you can sense how much she must have loved it. With just meeting them this weekend, you can already see how much love those two have for each other.

You hope people can see how much you love Sapnap.

“Oh my God, it’s still there.” He points out the side of your window to what looks like a Dairy Queen that has been through World War 3. “My buddy Eric and I once spilled a gallon of that liquid ice-cream-shit all over the men’s bathroom.”

You shoot him a horrified look. “Why was it in the bathroom?”

He just smirks.

“—And that’s my Uncle Ron’s house. Had my first beer there.”

“And last, hopefully,” you add, pulling a disgusted face. The two story bungalow is cute, and one of your favorite colors: olive green. “That shit is nasty.”

He just shrugs and continues down the side street.

“Is this the park you were talking about?”

He pulls into the gravelly parking lot of a small clearing of tall trees, a picnic table and campfire sat squat in the middle. But he doesn’t respond, just turning the car off and climbing out. He reaches the passenger door without speaking, and opens it for you. You climb carefully out, confused.

“Come on.” He takes your hand and starts for a small path to the left of the picnic table. The mid-sunset shade envelopes the both of you.

“I hope this isn’t where you kill me.”

“No,” he snorts. “I just wanted to show you something.”

It’s just a few moments of stumbling through the damp underbrush before you’re coming face to face with a small, mossy pond that sits right underneath an incredibly old willow tree. He stops right on the edge of the rocky path and turns toward you.

“This your make out spot?” You ask between a grin as he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush to him. Your innocent smile fades when you feel the press of his lips to the side of your neck, light and ticklish. Oh.

“No,” he murmurs, and just breathes you in. “I came here once—the night before I graduated highschool. And I told myself when I really really loved someone I’d take them here with me.” He sways with you in his grasp, a gentle and song-less dance.

You grip his shoulder tighter in your hand and lean into him.

“That’s— awfully romantic, huh?” Your voice is quiet. Almost nervous. He just makes a noise of agreement.

“So here we are.” His voice is the opposite of yours, all strong and confident.

You two just move together for a moment. The sun breaks through the tree canopy, shining bright orange down onto the glassy surface of the pond. Crickets and frogs chirp back and forth as the willow vines swing in a cool evening breeze. You watch nature come alive around you, suddenly grateful for the man in your arms.

“Don’t propose,” you whisper, breaking the gentle tension. A laugh breaks the silence and he’s pulling away to look at you. Maybe in disbelief. A strand of hair falls into his eyes and you brush it away, fingers stilling on his temple and sliding down onto his cheek. Stubble scrapes against the skin of your palm and he stares at you through those meadow eyes.

You realize in that moment that he is exactly himself. Of course he is. He’s Sapnap, and everything that encompasses that. Dark and light and fiery and cool. He always has been, and always will be.

You realize you wouldn’t mind if he proposed.

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. let me know what you think

[comfortwriting]

Tied To Me - F.W

Masterlist, Writing Prompt Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Taglist

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader 

Prompt 102: Your cum flowed down his length, your insides starting to feel raw and sore from his cock pounding inside of you, you were feeling ravaged… and you were loving it.

Prompt 104: “Oh would you look at that” he laughed lightly “I can see my cock poke through your delicate stomach.”

Prompt 105: His warm sperm shot inside of your mouth, you swallowed it down, feeling it travel down your throat, filling you up.

Prompt 106: “Be careful” he warned you, fucking you faster “you know how bad I want to knock you up.”

About/Requested:  Fred and Y/N go out for a meal, Fred bumps into some investors who helped him out with his shop a few months back - the investors flirt with you and tell Fred you’re out of his league, when you get home - you’re in for the night of your life.

Warnings: 18+, smut, mention of food and eating, dirty talk/vulgar language, swearing, breeding kink, unprotected sex, belly bulging, oral (male receiving). 

"I can't believe I have never been here before, I can't believe I can actually afford this now!" Fred smiled widely, pride sparkling in his eyes.

He held your hand over the table in the warm and dimly lit muggle restaurant that played classical music during your stay. You smiled back at him and took a sip from your glass, swallowing the non-alcoholic cocktail.

"I'm so proud of you, Freddie." you stared into his prideful eyes and blushed as the waiter came over to take your orders, collecting your menus and walking off to communicate with the chefs.

"I couldn't have done it without you, love." Fred smiled, tracing circles into your palm "I'm really looking forward to our future, Y/N."

Your fancy, well presented, and mouth-watering dishes arrived, the two of you feeling slightly out of place surrounded by Rich families with perfect table etiquette and high class, a women sat across the room, playing with her pearl necklaces that rested upon her upper chest whilst her partner poured wine into his glass, the bottle costing more money than you had earned this month.

You and Fred ate your meals, discussing future plans, the taste of the food and how treats like these were more meaningful - although Fred insisted that you deserved more experiences like these and that he would make sure you experienced them more often now that his shop had become a huge success.

Drinking the last of your non-alcoholic cocktail, savouring the gorgeous taste of the raspberries, Fred asked for the bill which arrived just as fast as your drinks, he went bright red in the face realising he didn't completely understand muggle currency.

"Uh.." Fred couldn't look you in the eye, his embarrassment spreading across the room as other guests turned around to stare at him "Just give me one second."

Two tall men in suits were in the corner of the restaurant near the entrance door, talking to one another and pointing at your boyfriend when they spotted the back of his head.

"Fred-"

The two men walked through the restaurant, getting closer and closer to your table.

"I'm trying my best, Y/N," Fred stressed, staring at the change and pound notes in his wallet.

"Freddie, turn around!" You whispered, slightly worried and concerned for Fred's safety, the men looking rather intimidating in their suits, their hair slicked back with gel.

The taller man tapped on Fred's shoulder and spoke out in surprise, sounding rather surprised "Mr Weasley?!"

Fred turned around and burst into a cheeky grin, getting out of his seat and shaking their hands, getting stuck into an immediate conversation, you sat back in your chair and watched, slowly taking Fred's wallet, counting out the muggle money for him that he needed to hand to the waiter who stood behind the bar, cleaning glasses and speaking to other members of staff.

"Fancy seeing you here in a place like this!" the shorter man spoke out.

The taller man leant to the side, peering over at you whilst you counted the notes and getting the exact change of coins into the palm of your hand.

"Who is this stunning young woman?" he asked, walking over to you.

You stared up at the man who stared at you, not even two metres away from you.

"This is my girlfriend, Y/N." Fred smiled shyly, the shorter man next to him telling him how beautiful you are and how good you look tonight in your short and black, silk dress and red high heels that matched your lipstick.

"I'm Evan" The taller man outstretched his hand "It's a pleasure to meet you."

You went to grasp his hand to shake, Evan kissing you on the hand, instantly making Fred tick inside. The shorter bloke walked over and greeted you in the same way "and I'm Peter." he smiled, also kissing your hand.

Evan looked down at the notes and coins in your free hand, his mouth almost dropping to the floor "Oh Fred, you aren't making your girlfriend pay are you?"

Fred opened his mouth to speak but got cut off by his friend "It's on me, darling" he grinned pulling out a stack of notes, calling the waiter over "I'm paying for this lovely young ladies meal tonight, and her boyfriends."

The waiter accepted the cash and handed you and Fred tiny little mints for you to chew on as you left, Evan and Peter continuing to compliment you and stress how much you were out of Fred's league.

"Bloody hell! How did he manage to land you?"

"You've been dating for how long and he's not put a ring on your finger?"

"If you were my wife you'd be swept off your feet with children to look after!"

Fred wanted to rip their heads off, swing for them, demand that they clear off and never speak to either of you again - but no matter how infuriated and jealous he felt, he couldn't bring himself to do it; after all, Evan and Peter were the ones who invested in his business, to begin with.

Fred cleared his throat "I think it's time we were off, sweetheart" he pointed to the door with his thumb "got an early day tomorrow."

You nodded and put on your coat, pushing your chair in, Evan and Peter pulling you in for a hug and a friendly kiss on the cheek, encouraging you and Fred to meet them for a drink in Diagon Alley when you were available.

"Thank you again, Evan, for paying-"

"Don't mention it, Y/N! My treat!" he smiled, waving at you and your boyfriend.

"My Treat"

This pissed Fred off big time, this was supposed to be his night, treating you - not his investor swooping in and making him look like a right fool for not understanding muggle currency.

Fred grabbed hold of your hand and stormed out of the restaurant, both of you apparating home, the spinning and speed making you feel queasy and rather dizzy as you landed in your living room, falling on your sofa, the spinning slowing down and the three Fred's blending back into the one you loved.

Fred shook his head, an annoyed expression plastered across his face, he didn’t say a word and walked into the bathroom, getting himself ready for bed - Evan and Peter’s voices echoing in his mind, repeating everything they said.

“You’re too bloody good for him!”

“You’d be silly to stick around any longer without a ring on your finger.”

“I bet you’ll make a brilliant mother!”

“You’re punching, Fred, how did you manage to land her?”

“If I were you I’d propose already - before someone else snatches her.”

You walked into the large bathroom quietly, coming up behind Fred, wrapping your arms around him, resting your face against his back.

“Please talk to me,” you said softly “I don’t like it when you get in a mood and ignore me.”

Fred grumbled and unbuttoned his shirt, you pulled away and stood by his side, pulling on his arm.

“Please, Fred.”

Fred sighed and turned to look at you, shrugging off his shirt down his arms, catching it in one hand and placing it over the edge of the bath.

“I’m embarrassed, Y/N, I’m irritated, I’m pissed off.”

You nodded and stared at Fred’s chest, your eyes taking in every inch of his beautiful skin and perfect body shape.

“You shouldn’t be, Muggle money isn’t the easiest to work out - and Evan helped out anyway which was really sweet-”

“If you like him that much you should’ve gone home with him instead of me then.” He snapped, pulling his arm out of your hand and walking out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

You sighed and followed him, hearing the clunk of his belt hitting the floor and the zipper on his trousers being pulled down.

“Fred, I don’t understand why you’re in such a grump, you don’t need to be embarrassed, shit happens-”

“I’ve had to listen to two of my investors catch you up all night, hearing them express how much they want you, want to fuck you and get you pregnant, saying that I’m not good enough for you, how am I supposed to feel!?”

You didn’t answer, you didn’t know how to feel, you didn’t know what to think, Fred stared at you and became even more ticked off, he scoffed and pulled off his trousers, throwing them across the room, missing the laundry basket.

“I see how it is” he spoke out “You loved it, didn’t you? You loved another man treating you with his money that he has more of than he knows what to do with.”

You rolled your eyes “Oh don’t be stupid Fred! I’m not with you for your money, you know that!” you argued, pulling off your high heels and storming over to your wardrobe, placing your shoes inside at the bottom.

Fred ignored you, making you just as pissed off as he was, you could feel the tiny devil sitting down on your shoulder, whispering in your ear, encouraging you to tick Fred off on purpose, the angel on your other shoulder begging you not to do it.

But you did it anyway, and Fred couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

“You know what” you spoke up, your attitude popping out a little bit “you’re right, I should have gone home with him instead of you!”

Fred’s eyes widened, he grits his teeth and storms over towards you in his boxers, grabbing you by the waist, forcing you to look at him. You swallowed hard and looked him in the eyes, instantly regretting what you said, but also feeling your crotch flutter slightly as his hot breath beamed down on you.

“Is that what you want?” he glared “another man fucking you?”

Fred’s hand snaked to your back, his fingers gripping on the zip on the back of your dress, studying your face before he tugged it down.

“I never said that-”

“But you were implying it, weren’t you?”

“Freddie-”

Fred knew what he was going to do to you, and you knew it too, you could feel yourself getting wet at the thought and at Fred’s touch - his cock hardening in his boxers, poking out like the top of a tent.

Your dress dropped to the floor, Fred grabbed you by the arm and pulled you into him, as you kicked the dress across from you across the room, his lips smashed against yours, you kissed back passionately, feeling his tongue drag against your lips, you opened your mouth and allowed him to explore you with his tongue.

You reached down and started to caress Fred’s hard cock through his boxers, Fred groaned against your lips and with his free hand, grabbed yours and pushed it under his boxers, encouraging you to wank him off - which made your crotch flutter, even more, your wetness creating a tiny puddle in your knickers.

Taking Fred’s large length in your hand, you pumped his cock gently and softly, the two of you still exploring each other's mouths until Fred became impatient, wanting to feel your lips around his cock already.

He pulled away and looked into your eyes, his full of lust and hunger “get on your knees” he ordered, pulling down his boxers as you gripped the base of his length.

“Go on, suck my cock, love.”

You smirked at him and nodded, licking up and down his shaft teasingly before taking him in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock before sucking on it gently, Fred’s moans filling the room, your knickers getting even more soaked.

“Fuck, Y/N, that feels so good.”

You pushed yourself and took more of Fred’s length - almost all of it - into your mouth, the head of his cock sliding down your throat, causing you to gag as his hands held onto your head, holding you in place and trying to push you down, causing you to gag and produce more saliva - you looked up at him with your wide and watery eyes.

“That’s it, choke on my cock that’s sliding down your throat.”

Fred continued to moan out, watching you, staring you down whilst you bobbed your head, sucking on his big cock and pumping it with your hand at the same time, sending your boyfriend close to the edge numerous times before he finally pulled you off him, lifting you from his saliva coated cock by gripping onto your hair with his hand.

You gasped for air, swallowing down the pooled saliva in your mouth, wiping your lips as Fred grabbed you by the waist, kissing you again, tasting himself on your lips as his hand stroked your pussy through your knickers.

“So wet for me, aren’t you?” he smirked, feeling your wetness through the thin fabric, his finger hooking the waistband of your knickers, slowly pulling them down.

“Fred” you breathed “I didn’t mean what I said, you don’t have to prove yourself to me-”

“I don’t care” Fred growled, rubbing your clit with his finger, walking backwards and sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling you with him “sit down and fuck me.”

You climbed on top of Fred, your legs spread, slowly lowering yourself down on his saliva coated cock, helping you sit down as he slid inside of you, his cock piercing into you, his length exploring you deeply, reaching your tummy.

Your legs rested at his sides, you needed a moment to adjust to his size and then you began to slowly buck your hips, riding him, also circling your hips which Fred gripped on to keep you grounded, you gasped out loud and moan feeling his cock brush against your G-Spot.

Your fingers got tangled in Fred’s messy hair, continuing to buck your hips and bounce up and down, your breasts bouncing, you leaned back and moaned out loud, the constant brushing of Fred’s cock against your g-spot was sending you over the edge, getting you closer to orgasm.

“Freddie” you moaned out through panting, your voice high pitched “oh Freddie!”

Fred looked up at you with a smirk on his face, you moaning his name - not Evan’s or Peter’s made him feel really fucking good, he couldn’t get enough of rubbing what he had in other peoples faces - even if he was thinking about it and not fucking you in front of them, or living next door to them and fucking you so hard they had to hear your moans like he wanted, but he could imagine it, and that was the nest best thing.

Fred quickly stood up, holding you so you didn’t fall, your legs now wrapped around him, still inside you, as he turned around and placed you on the bed, your back laying against his soft sheets. Lifting up your legs, Fred placed them over his shoulders, his cock sliding even deeper inside of your, causing your mouth to open and a desperate moan to slip from your lips, Fred biting his lip at the sight of you.

“Oh would you look at that” he laughed lightly “I can see my cock poke through your delicate stomach.”

Looking down you could see the outline of Fred’s length poke through your stomach, you could feel yourself getting excited over him filling you up, your walls tightening around him ever so slightly.

“You’re so deep inside me” you whimpered, watching him start to slam in you, your moans becoming more frequent and louder.

Fred held onto your waist, his eyes bouncing across your body, focusing on your eyes, your lips, your rising and falling chest, your bulging tummy, your clit, your breasts, the sight of him fucking you - he didn’t know which detail to focus on because the whole picture was perfect.

Slamming into your wet pussy deeper and faster, the slamming filling the room with your moans and his groans, you lolled your head back and moaned out, gripping your breasts with one hand, spitting in the other so you could play with your clit, lifting your head back up and locking eye contact with Fred.

Your fingers stroking your clit, pushing you closer and closer to orgasm, feeling Fred’s cock twitch inside of you.

“Be careful” he warned you, fucking you faster “you know how bad I want to knock you up.”

Those very words were enough for you when combined with the fast, deep, and hard thrusting.

Your cum flowed down his length, your insides starting to feel raw and sore from his cock pounding inside of you, you were feeling ravaged… and you were loving it.

“Maybe you should” you teased through more panting, causing Fred to twitch again, your legs couldn’t keep still upon his shoulders, your orgasm expanding and spreading throughout your body “that way you’ll be tied to me forever.”

Fred could feel himself getting closer to the end of the race “Tied to you...” he breathed “fuck!”

As much as he wanted to plant his seed inside of you, he knew he couldn’t, not yet - he needed to put a ring on your finger first, so instead of cumming deep inside your pussy, he reached for the next best thing.

“I’m going to cum!” he panted, quickly pulling out, his hard, red, juice coated, twitching cock gripped in his hand.

You lifted your legs off his shoulders and bent them, propping yourself up on the bed, laying on your tummy, your elbows lifting you up so you could welcome Fred’s length back into your mouth, tasting your own juices.

Your lips wrapped around his cock, you sucked as you did before, bobbing your head up and down with your hand gliding up and down in sync with the rhythm, Fred watched you eagerly and couldn’t hold back.

You pushed his cock deeper in your mouth, so close to swallowing him whole as his head hit the back of your throat.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m - I’m cumming!”

His warm sperm shot inside of your mouth, you swallowed it down, feeling it travel down your throat, filling you up.

Fred slowly pulled his cock out of your mouth, he stumbled backwards, slightly dizzy and then sat down on the bed slowly, swinging his legs over so he could lie down comfortably in bliss, embracing his orgasm.

You wiped your lips and climbed into Fred’s arms, the two of you lying in silence, catching your breaths and cooling down.

“I’m tied to you, Fred.” you muttered “always have been, always will be, I only want you,” you reassured him.

Fred wrapped his arm around you “I’m tied to you too, my love” he muttered softly, kissing your head.

Tags: @amourtentiaa @xmalfoyweasleyx @horrorxweasley @reeophidian @alwaysnforeverfangirl @freddiemylovelg @sebby-staan @inglourious-imagines @onlyfreds @lucymfer @pandaxnienke 

[lustbile]

The Journal

TenxReader

Word Count: 7.3k+

Summary/Warnings: Smut with plot, semi public, a lot of biting, mentions of supernatural and just general weirdness, and small amount of blood play

Apart of the Club X series: Masterlist (can be read alone or within the series, but unlike others it might just be the slightest amount confusing)

“So that’s what you’re into now,” your best friend’s voice is bored and distant, her task of wiping down the bar that stretched out in front of her taking a majority of her attention away from the babbling you’ve tried to subject her to since you entered the empty restaurant only about 20 minutes before, “weird demon sex clubs?”

—

—

“Ah ah, I never said they were demons,” you correct quickly, the thought of defending yourself never crossing your mind as you petulantly slap your hands against the polished wood, “I just said it was…. weird.”

“Weird is an understatement,” she scoffs quietly as she turns to dip her dirtied rag back into the bleach water and ring it out, “I mean look, I’ve always been supportive in the witchy stuff you’ve been into but this…. is a bit much.”

“I don’t see how this is any different than any other thing I’ve read into.”

“Oh you don’t see?” you finally manage to pull her attention towards you as she harshly slaps the rag back onto the wood with a stern glare pulled on her pretty features, “you’re talking about vulnerability and abandoned warehouses and public sex. That last one is definitely new.”

You fully expected this type of response, only hoping she’d be busy enough that you would dodge the motherly scolding she liked to give you when you pitched your schemes to her with your eyes wild and wide, but nevertheless, she was completely right.

It came from an old book, tattered and torn from being flipped through one too many times, that you found at your favorite antique store. The store itself was already notorious with your tight inner circle of friends as the creepy shop that was corrupting your brain, a constant taunt being that the little old woman that ran it was the actual devil and she was just waiting for the right time to jump you and eat you whole, but this did nothing to stop you from visiting at least once a week.

But the book, it was different from any other you had found. It was completely handwritten, including amazingly done sketches in a deep unfading ink, and spoke of outlandish things.

Some were easily brushed off, like a murder that happened in the 50’s that was known to stay in the mouths of the older folks, both to them and the book it was widely believed to be the doing of some long tongued and wild eyed creature, until a local sweet old man admitted on his deathbed that it was instead his one crime of passion.

He had been a young soldier that snuck into his lover’s room one night, and upon learning that she was to marry a nice lawyer the day after he was meant to deploy, his mind went blank and his hands were carving out her heart. He luckily escaped any questioning after being shipped off, and once he returned home he captured the heart of a pretty young girl and lived out a long life sitting on top of a horrid truth.

So yeah, stories of those sorts, having been solved in your lifetime, meant very little to you, but the one you were going on about now, meant the world.

The writing looked like it had been put down by a panicked chicken rather than the woman who’s name was written neatly in the front. It lived in some of the pages towards the back of the small book and spoke of a dark club. Club X.

She went on and on about stumbling across the club purely by accident, and meeting another woman with glittering eyes. Graphic details of being taken in the middle of the dance floor with a million eyes looking but not fully seeing her as she fell apart against a dancing and eager tongue made your heart thump lodged in your throat. But the more and more she visited the club, the more incoherent her words became, but towards the end the writing had become stained and obscured by a deep brown stain, before it stopped altogether.

Thankfully, the details of where the building was was completely visible regardless of being the thoughts of a mad woman, and with a lot of thinking and staring at the town map, you’ve come to believe that you knew exactly where the mysterious club stood.

Only a street down from the restaurant you sit in now.

“Listen, I know it sounds ridiculous, and it probably is, but what’s the problem with just going to check right?” you scramble to pull the delicate book from the bag that sits in the stool beside you as your friend moves closer and closer to where you sit, laying it flat to show her the page you’ve had bookmarked since you read it, “and look at the name she puts, I think it’s the man who ran it and it’s a long shot, but maybe he’s still alive, or if not maybe some family is! Right here, Asm-“

“Don’t say it again,” she’s quick to interrupt, sliding her free hand to hover above the page you’ve glued your eyes to, “I don’t wanna hear any old man names, especially that one it gives me the ick.”

“It’s just a name,” murmur to yourself, but move to put the book away regardless, “but anyways, I have something that most people who were going to the club didn’t, knowledge of what exactly I’m walking into. I can just go and look around, worst things worst its still a freaky sex club and I just go home, but I’m willing to bet this lady was just off the shits and its just an empty building with some funky vintage beer bottles that you can add to your collection.”

You feel like you’ve won an award you weren’t even trying to compete for when she finally breaks out into a soft smile. The huff that leaves her chest is endeared, and you swear your heart began to vibrate when she reached to run a gentle thumb across the swell from your cheekbone.

“Fine, do what you want, but if the bottle isn’t completely intact when you find it I don’t want it.”

“So you’re not coming with me?” your head tilts to the side in confusion as with things of this nature in the past, she’s always followed along to ensure that you didn’t do anything to stupid. You never felt like the company was fully necessary, but it was appreciated regardless.

“Baby, as much as I’ve enjoyed your info dumping you’ve done tonight, the other person that was meant to clean with me had to leave early with a stomach bug so I’m busy pulling a clean up job that’s truly a job for about five people. But you seem to really believe in this little adventure of yours,” she leaves the rag in a damp mass next to the stack of dirty glasses beside you to take your hands in her’s, her slightly wrinkled fingers are still warm and the way they lace with yours makes you feel like nothing in the world could hurt you, “besides, you’re as smart as a whip and I know you have me on speed dial. I trust you.”

——

You no longer love the feeling of being trusted.

When your friend had given you the heartfelt speech only a little over half an hour ago, you felt like you had been put on a nice pedestal before she handed you a cookie with a pat on the head.

Now the “cookie” had turned to rot in your belly and you were faced with your own perfectly dreamed up reality.

It was already late by the time you had walked into the restaurant your friend works at, the sun already setting and the last few customers gathering their things and paying the bills, so once you got her stamp of approval and we’re heading out the door, the only light left was a bright and full moon, and flickering street lights.

You took your time walking in the direction that your book and personal sleuthing had pointed you in, the closer and closer you got to the one warehouse in town that seemed to never be bought back from the city, the knots in your belly pulled tighter and tighter.

But regardless of the almost painful twist in your gut, you surprisingly almost missed the building in its entirety.

It was as if your entire being blocked out the thumping bass that shook the sidewalk and the blinding red light that spilled from beneath the entrance and out the fractured windows. Your brain trying to force itself from entering the building you spent so many weeks trying to locate.

But the way your heart thuds in your chest when you stand in front of the entrance is something you couldn't even pretend you didn’t feel.

Your tongue digs into the side of your jaw, and you're confused at the feeling of warm tears burning at your waterlines. It’s exactly the way the owner of the journal described it in her manic writings, weirdly exact considering the other stories that surrounded it that dated it back far before you were even born.

You want to go in, the shaking steps your legs take is evident to that, but the tense muscles of your shoulders and stomach makes you hesitate and even grumble out into the air.

You almost jump out of your skin when you hear a shuffling to your side, your throat tensing when you look over, and are put slightly at ease when you see two men who you assume are acting as some type of security. You almost expect them to look up and ask you for some type of ID when you’re being very weird and blatant about your presence, but they seem too preoccupied with the dim screens of their phones and the way they lean forward at different times as if they’re waiting for someone.

Your hands are shaking slightly as they scramble down to grab for your bag, desperately looking for something to occupy you to walk by them without being even more weird, and when your fingers wrap around the flaking leather that binds the book, you grab it like a lifeline.

Your fingers flip through the pages with perfect muscle memory as you trip up the few steps that lead to the door, the tabs you carefully placed on the first page mentioning the club not even necessary with the way you could find the page even in your sleep.

You subconsciously hold your breath when you walk past the two men, almost as if the book is instead something wildly illegal and you're trying to sneak past your parents, and your washed with a temporary wave of relief when you pass through the doors without even a glance from the two.

Though the relief is stolen from your bones the second your feet touch the floor of the club.

It’s as if you’ve entered a place you’ve known your whole life, and from the amazing descriptions from the woman in the past, its not a completely surprising feeling.

But another part of you feels like this is the first time you’ve seen human beings in the flesh.

You can't help but to feel like you must look like an absolute nerd as you pull the book up to your face as you start to survey the club, but thankfully the book told at least one truth, and many of the club goers are too busy grouping and grinding against one another to even acknowledge your existence.

More truths come to light as you flick your eyes between the pages and the walls.

The bar is still tucked in the same far corner as she described, the flittering red and blue lights making it feel like a beacon of calm regardless of it being surrounded by drunken forms and its intimidatingly pretty bartender.

The dj is just a stoic and unimpressed looking as the one from so many years ago as he subconsciously bobs to the beat that he creates as he messes with the nobs and switches in front of him. He’s actually so similar, you wonder if you were right and the owner did have family floating around, and maybe the dj is one of them.

You stumble further into the room as you pick out small details she wrote about so lovingly. Your legs carry you to the back of the building as you smile at the sight of the wine stain the writer claimed to have created when her lover shocked her with a playful bite to the neck.

You almost feel like the universe is gifting you everything you could have possibly asked for when you see the loose board that she said a friend of hers would always trip over, and electricity zips up your spine in excitement when you spots the large painting that still hangs over the booth she claimed as her favorite, and she meticulously sketched out next to a paragraph about what she thought the artist was feeling.

All these things though, lead to the things that make your jaw hang slightly open.

The large balcony above you is larger than you ever imagined. The hundreds of bright red carnations she loved to sketch drip from the golden bars like water, and the black velvet curtains that hang over the room it leads to look heavy enough that they suffocate someone if they fell.

She seemed so intensely in love with the place you stand in, and the woman she met there, and those emotions were more than evident from the way the recreated the energy of the club with her words and art. Which only tips you towards the part that caught your attention perhaps the most.

It was exactly where it was meant to be. Just below the balcony that hangs high on the wall, gaping wide and dark like the mouth of a hungry monster coaxing you to enter its throat. The only issue that you can see being the hanging rope that blocks you from entering, but with only shining bright clasps holding it onto hooks on the walls, you don’t think you're above sneaking past it with little guilt.

The hall was the one thing that taunted you the most about the story the woman spun in the little worn book. The empty and dark vass space being something that coaxed her as well, but unfortunately for you, and maybe her as well, the parts of her journal that began the tale of her passing the temping rope, was the exact spot that was stained with bleeding ink and a suspicious brown color.

You survey the space around you, looking for anyone that could possibly be a worker or just a stickler for the rules, but seeing as everyone in your range of vision was attached by the mouth on someone’s neck or sloppy lips, you figured you were in the clear.

You drop the book gently back into your bag before you step slowly forward. Your heart feels like a wild animal trying to break out of the cavity of your chest, and it feels like your intestines have been successfully replaced with writhing worms that are desperately trying to reach your gut. You feel heat traveling up your chest and neck, and as you get within a few feet of what feels like the end of your life, your body begins to shake.

If you had the ability, you would have screamed, and if you had the strength, you would have fought back. But right when you're about to reach the threshold of the hall, and right when you feel like your legs are about to collapse from underneath you, strong fingers clasp over your trembling mouth, and an arm wraps tightly around your waist.

You’re turned faster than you can blink, the sudden motion making your brain swirl in your skull and making you go lightheaded and dizzy. And while keeping their hand clasped tightly over your mouth, the person that cages you in slams your back into the cold wall and knocks the air from your lungs.

The eyes that meet you are cat-like and dancing wildly, the grin the man you're faced with now smiles at you wickedly, and when your hands dart up until your nails dig harshly into the skin of his forearms, his smile only widens.

“Now,” he starts, the remains of a chuckle shaking his chest and his words slightly, “what exactly are you up to?”

You wait for a moment for him to release you from his hold, and when after a minute or so he still hasn’t budged, all you can offer in response is an annoyed arched brow.

“What?” he has the audacity to ask with taunting sincerity, “you thought you were smart enough to go wandering around, so you should be smart enough to figure out a way to talk around my hand right?”

It’s with immense irritation that you realize the two possibilities you’re faced with.

From the book you know about the weird concept of soul mates or whatever they were meant to be. The woman and the mysterious dancing girl she met so many years ago, and similar stories from the friends she met during her many visits to the club who had almost identical tales that she had to recount.

So with that information you know the possibility of this grinning man being your person is high, but your person or not, he was lighting a fire in your chest regardless.

You don’t think or even weigh the negatives before you send him a hard glare, and you show very little hesitation when you push forward to sink your teeth into the first finger you can catch.

His yelp is covered by the blaring music, but you hear it loud and clear before he reaches his free hand up to pinch at the bridge of your nose to pull you off like a rabid kitten.

“You know what I’m up to,” you huff petulantly as you lean back into the wall with your arms folding over your chest, “or at least I’d assume you’d be smart enough to use your context clues right?”

His lip curls when he glances back up to you as he pets at his now bruising finger, but even with the thin veil of irritation on his pretty features, you can tell he enjoys the sarcastic tone you’ve adopted.

“Yeah you’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” he bites back as he steps closer, crowding your personal space and pushing his chest tightly against yours, “you’re lucky I’m who caught you and not boss man.”

“Boss man?” you ask, trying not to show you excitement over him spilling the treasured information about the club that you want so desperately.

He doesn’t answer you verbally, and the sly wink he throws at you shocks you more than you would like to admit, but when he tilts his head back quickly you don’t hesitate to follow his line of sight to the edge of the balcony.

If it weren’t for the thin wires of light that create hatching over his eyes and mouth, you probably would have missed the masked figure that leers at you from over the railing. His hands and shoulders are covered by the masses of flowers, and the hollow black where he hides his eyes stares down at you two with a look that you assume is annoyance and possible curiosity.

The moment you two look up, the figure jerks back. Your eyes flick quickly between him and the man in front of you, and from the bratty grin he wears as he looks up, you feel as if the masked man didn’t have any intention at being caught.

You get lost slightly in staring at the man pressed against you, his teeth that look sharper in the red lighting and his eyes twinkle in mischief, and even with the obnoxious start to your interaction, you’d be lying to say you don’t find him beautiful.

It takes you a second to regain your senses, tearing your eyes away from the fascinating side profile of the man, but when you glance back up to the balcony, the mask man has retreated back.

“He doesn’t like much when we take people back there before they’re ready,” he attempts at an explanation as he turns back to you, and seems unfazed when he misses the mark and just confuses you further, “he let the two goons outside have a little exception, but that's because they don’t know how to go easy y‘know.”

“No,” you shake your head at him with a quiet scoff, “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I think you know more than you think,” his voice drops as he speaks now, and as he speaks he reaches out his hand to hold himself propped against the wall next to your head while his other hand moves to run gently up the side of your neck, “I mean, you know who I am at least right?”

“I have an idea,” you admit with a huff, but you also admit to yourself that this probably means you won't be getting into the hall. You do mentally jot that down as a loss, but decide to take the man pressed against you as a win and you reach to grab at his shirt in retaliation, “but you could at least give me a name to work with.”

“Hm, I didn’t expect you to be one for such formalities,” his head tilts in amusement at his own words, and the action nudges the tip of his nose into yours and makes your heart flutter up into your throat, “but you might as well know the name of the man you’ll be destined to fall in love with.”

You roll your eyes hard enough for them to start to ache, and he quietly laughs and moves to press his nose into the soft flesh of your cheek as he feeds off your annoyance.

“Ten,” he answers quietly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he moves to whisper the syllable in your ear, and you never thought that with just one word he’d have a shiver rushing up your spine.

You respond quietly with your name, but the word comes out strained and rushed when he begins to nibble on the lobe of your ear and pushes his knee harshly between your thighs.

Both your hands now hold tightly onto the sides of his shirt, and when his lips move to trail against the side of your neck that isn't enveloped by his hand, you tug roughly at the fabric and your back arches slightly away from the wall.

His tongue is hot when he lays it flat on the center of your throat, and when he swipes it up until it flicks against the end of your chin, you can't help but cringe slightly at the feeling regardless of the way it makes heat pool in between your thighs.

The wicked grin on his face never falters, it only grows wider and more hungry when your eyes meet again, and with his staring so deep that you fear he may be collecting every ounce of your soul, you two have a silent agreement on the unnatural waves of electricity that connect you.

When his lips finally land on yours, it's the roughest and clumsiest kiss you’ve experienced. Both of you fight each other with hungry and eager tongues and the way your teeth gently knock together has your skull rattling in a way that, if you weren’t so hell bent of devouring each other whole, you’d probably have to take a breather.

Your hands reluctantly release the wrinkled fabric of his shirt, and in a desperate attempt to stay occupied, they shoot up the tangle tightly into his hair. You admit, you probably tug harsher on the strands than you probably should, but the groans he pours into your mouth, and the way his hips rock roughly into yours, has you tugging again and again.

He presses you further and further into the wall, and without thinking your hips begin to kick and tilt down until you're grinding harshly and sloppily against his tense thigh.

You let out a quiet whine that's muffled and garbled by his moving at the feeling of him pressing his thumb gently into the dip beneath your jaw, and pressing into your jugular. The sound is followed almost immediately by a small yelp when he latches his teeth to your bottom lip and gives you a stinging bite.

You’re frustrated almost immediately with the lack of friction you can feel from the layers of clothing between you, and now the slight shooting pain from the tensing skin between his teeth, you can feel the impatience in your belly crawling up and invading your chest and throat.

He’s quick to pull away when you retaliate with your own nipping bite to his top lip, your teeth still sinking down when he does and making his sting probably just as much as yours. And when he eyes you as his eyelids droop down into an accusatory squint, you assume he’s not used to getting a taste of his own medicine.

He mutters something to himself about your feistiness, and a sly comment about how he shouldn’t be surprised as he was expecting to get a handful, but he gives you no time to make a snide comment or even question about any of the words, before his fingers are closing firmly but loosely around your neck.

He keeps you rooted in the spot that you stand, the only change in your posture he allows is pulling you slightly away from the wall, just wide enough for him to slink behind you and tug you roughly back into his chest.

“You like poking around into business that isn’t yours?” he asks rhetorically as his free hand reaches around your shoulder to push past the neckline of your shirt, and right as he pressed down the center of your chest and his fingers brush the bottom of your rib cage, his fingers curl and he starts to drag his blunt nails up your sternum as he continues, “need to know and see every single little thing right? So… what’s the harm of being on the other side of it for once?”

“What are you on about?” you as sharply as you try to turn your face towards him the best you can, but his hand tilts under the bottom of your chin until your head is forced to lean on his shoulder and he’s nothing but thrilled at the way it makes you struggle.

“To be seen, or not?” he presses his lips back against the shell of your ear, and the way he whispers roughly makes you shiver again as your thighs press tightly together, “you know what I mean, and you know the answer I want, but its all up to you in the end.”

The electric and slightly humiliating buzz of being seen in a mass of bodies committing the same sins as you was something the woman in the book went on about frequently. She mentioned that there were a few times where she and her lover snuck off to get alone time of course, but the almost blinding pleasure that came from being worshiped by not only one person, but the eyes of an entire room, was addictive. And you wanted just a taste.

You grumble in response, the idea of admitting to the already confident man that you did indeed wanted the same amount of attention as he did made your chest burn even more than it already was, and you’d rather take your chance with his terrifying looking boss than to give him the satisfaction of your verbal confession.

He seems unaffected by your nonverbal confirmation, the way you press into him as his hand wraps around your waist again and creeps down to the button of your shorts, and your own hand grabbing onto the sleeve of his rolled up long sleeve shirt to guide him to undo the clasp or just dip below the waistband, is enough of an answer for him to know.

He chooses to pop the button, and once he has the zipper pulled down enough that he can work with, he begins to shove the worn denim down your hips along with your underwear until they are wrapped around your knees and he can push his fingers roughly between your thighs.

You try to clear the fog that he creates in your mind from his teasing fingers long enough to reach your free hand back to give the same treatment to the dark jeans that wrap tightly around his hips and thighs in a way that had you mentally drooling from the moment you got to get a full look at him, after he ambushed you of course.

You’re not sure how he undid your shorts so quickly without being able to see, but as you fumble and scratch your nails against the sensitive skin of his hip, you give yourself the benefit of the doubt seeing as your trying to work while his middle and ring fingers tease over your entrance and the heel of his hand presses clumsily into your neglected clit.

He, on the other hand, doesn’t give you any benefit of the doubt. He at least has the decency to press his lips across your cheekbone and temple to muffle his quiet laughs, but to make your task even more difficult, his fingers shallowly curl up into you just enough to make you twist and curl.

Once the button of his jeans finally releases, you instinctively let out a huff and sink your shoulders back into his chest as you reach past the fabric to wrap your hand around his stiff length and pull it from the confines until you can press it against his lower belly. And you get just one tally on your side of the boards you’ve created in your mind when his amused laughs devolves into pleased grunts and tilting hips.

“Please,” you start quietly, trying to rock more against the parts of his hand that press against you while running your palm up and down the length of him and smearing him with his own pre come, “I can tell you’re just as impatient as me.”

He swears in your ear, using his hold on you with both hands to shift your hips up and pull you closer before he clears his throat to speak, “well could you imagine, looks like we are a match made in heaven.”

“More like hell,” you retaliate, digging the heel of your own palm into the skin just below the tip of him to egg him on even further, “but either way, that's the point isn't it?”

“I should have expected you to be just a little bit of a smart ass,” he mutters a half hearted complaint, but he only contradicts his own words when he pushes your hips away enough for you to guide him between your thighs and to glide against the arousal that spilled from your body and his hands spread messy along any available inch of skin.

He thrusts smoothly against your back a few times, bringing his arm down to guide him towards your entrance painfully slow, but when you let out a gravely moan of his name, he cant deny himself for any longer, and he’s sinking into you until your eyes start to gently flutter.

Once he’s seated inside you, his hand tenses slightly tighter around your neck, and when you both start pushing towards each other to meet in the middle of your thrusts, his other hand takes the opportunity to map any inch of you he can reach.

He gropes almost painfully at your chest, traveling over your stomach and up your shirt to dig his fingers into your skin until you swear he’s tattooed his finger prints onto you, all while nipping and lapping at the skin of your jaw and neck.

No one immediately in front of you is watching, they’re all in their own worlds of flesh and saliva, but you can still feel eyes of someone on you. His first and foremost as they burn holes into the side of your skull and glance to watch where you push back against him desperately, but there’s another feeling you get of being seen and studied thats so intense that you’re a little shocked when you chance a glance up and see that whoever the masked person was from earlier wasn’t there at all.

So no, you have no idea who, or what is watching you right now, but you can feel the unusual heat it stirs in you as your body flutters around him as he fucks you sloppily. You feel a deeper relation to the woman that owned the book that still rests in the bag that feel unceremoniously from your shoulder when he first put his hands on you, and you hope that maybe you’ll eventually slip into the life of bliss that she meticulously wrote about and possibly learn what happened that demolished the stories that lived in the back of the journal.

You could feel the pleasure crawling up your spine like a monster out creature, your panting breaths tipping the man that works you over off to this even though you’re sure he was already aware before you were, and you think your legs are back to the edge of collapsing when his creeping fingers dance along the expanse of your stomach to find their place back between your thighs.

Your back stiffens at the first touch of his rolling finger on your clit, and your head tilts even farther back onto his shoulder than he already had it. He doesn’t seem interested in coaxing you to your finish slowly, at a pace that would have mercy on your melting mind and shaking form, but he instead abuses your clit until your whimpering out and stumbling and stepping slightly on his toes.

You feel like you’re waiting out the suspense of a horror film that’s score is too obvious to the incoming jump scare. You tilt your neck in a way that seems normal to him, but in reality your trying to feel the many rings that decorate his fingers with the delicate skin of your throat to test if any of them could possibly be sharp enough to cut you and draw blood. You know what blood means to him, and you know it's something he’ll have to do soon if he truly can feel how close you are to the edge.

You feel like you’re floundering a bit, confused from the possible deviation from the story you’ve committed to memory. Was there any chance in this world that this wasn’t your person?

You push this thought away as soon as your panicked mind can construct it though, because there’s no way the spell that it feels has been placed on you would be there if that was the truth, and your body is heated almost like a furnace, but you suddenly love the idea of being burned by him.

You pull in a gasping breath of air that pierces through the music and grunting that rattles in your ears, the taste of your orgasms dancing on the back of your tongue and your back arching so harshly you fear that one of your muscles might seize up and cramp. And right when you feel his hips start to stutter in tandem with yours, and when you’re only seconds from blabbering out mixed syllables that you could only hope would come out as a coherent question, you feel it.

His teeth latch onto you again, his canines not sharp enough to make a clean cut as they dig into the muscle of your shoulder, but his determination is strong enough.

It burns painfully, and makes hot tears well up in your eyes, but almost embarrassingly, is the exact thing that pushes you scrambling over the edge.

You feel like it hurts to breathe, your lungs so focused on letting out puffs of air and broken moans that they can't seem to remember how to bring oxygen in, and your eyes roll for a completely new reason for the man and much more painfully.

It’s when you feel him start to suck the rushing blood from your newly christened wound that you also feel the rumble of his groans against your skin and feel him start to come inside of you. His fist tightens again around your neck as he pushes aftershocks through your nerves with his own orgasm, and with flying hands you grab at both of his wrists, not to ask in any way for him to ease up, but from a sudden wash and need to hold onto him possibly until you die.

He lets you collapse to the floor once he pulls out, but he follows your sinking form and sits alongside you and partially underneath you as you both try to catch your breath.

The club scene in front of you is now blurs of flashing lights and abstract writhing forms, and if it wasn’t for the zaps of energy you feel from every brush of his finger tips, your brain would probably be too muddled to register him fixing both your clothes and his.

You become just slightly more aware when he shifts your body against him enough to grab at the strap of your bag with the heel of his shoe, and you try to sit up faster than necessary and give yourself a small head rush when he pulls it to himself and flips it open.

“You seemed a little weirdly unaffected by the whole,” he flails his hands in front of you for a second as he speaks, and your lagging mind takes a second to catch up with his attempts at implication, “not the fucking part clearly,” he teases, “but the leading up to it. The meeting part and all.”

“I know what this place is,” you admit, and if your legs had gained just a bit more strength you probably would have stood and requested a glass of water just from how gravely your voice had become, “I knew I was probably going to run into you.”

“But you weren’t looking for me,” he tries, and fails, at hiding the slight edge of offense his voice shows, “if you knew I was here why didn’t you look for me?”

“I didn’t worry about it,” you say, warming up a bit again in the fear that it may have come off slightly rude, “or, like, I mean I knew you’d be able to find me easier than I could find you. I was more interested in finding answers.”

“Answers to what? You said you knew this place, or at least what it is?”

“Well I only know the basics,” you shift in his hold, knocking his hands away as they sift through your bag, and grabbing blindly until you can pull out the book, “I found this journal and it-“

“A journal?” he asks in a volume that could have been obnoxiously loud if it weren’t for the thumping bass that shook the floor beneath you, and pulls the small book from your hands.

“It was written by a woman who came here a long time ago,” you explain, deciding to not take offense to his rough and grabbing hands, “I found it and tracked the club down, I needed to see if it was real.”

“Oh it's real alright,” he laughs as he starts to flip through the pages, stopping for a moment to smile at a simple sketch she had done of a cat that she said lived in the back alley, “hey wait I think I know this name, and these people.”

“What are you on about?” you ask with a scoff as you tug the book from his grubby fingers, “you can’t possibly know these people, this was written in like the fifties. Stop pulling my leg.”

“Oh I see,” he smacks your thigh playfully as he leans over your shoulder to glance at the first page that mentioned anything about the date, the ink clear enough to read 1953 in the swirling handwriting, “you think you know everything.”

“I do know everything, fuck you,” you glare playfully at him over your shoulder, “or I would know, if you’d let me go into that weirdo hall.”

“No hall, for now at least,” he sighs, the gears in his head turning as he thinks of the next thing to say, “but you know, time doesn’t exist the same way here, the woman who wrote this probably didn’t know that at the time, so I’m not surprised you don’t either.”

“What do you mean time doesn’t exist?” you look at him as if he’s grown a second head, but do you really have the nerve to question him like that? Considering that entire concept of the club you are very aware of its existence now, a time situation shouldn’t be the most shocking should it?

“Well, it's hard to explai-“

“Then don’t explain it,” you almost jump fully out of his lap at the deep voice that rattles above you, and both him and you look up at the figure that looms over you now.

The man is tall, his black hoodie looking weird in contrast to the clothes of the other club goers, and with a squinting observation and a familiar and annoyed sigh from the man seated behind you, you realize you’re being stared down by the mysterious entity that is the DJ, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pocket in annoyance.

“Huh?” Ten lets out more in the form of a noise than a word, as his arms wind tightly around your form.

“I said don’t explain shit,” the man begins to tap his foot in irritation as he speaks, and you wonder if he’s aware that he’s in rhythm with the song that surrounds you, “you need to chill out with the loose tongue, its bad enough we have the big mouths outside.”

“I wasn’t gonna go that far,” Ten sounds reminiscent of a scolded toddler, and considering the man is hindering you from getting information that you wanted so badly, you can feel yourself mirroring the pout he wears, “I know what I’m doing alright man? Why are you over here anyways, shouldn’t you be at your little booth minding your business.”

“No one minds their business over at that booth, and you should know that better than anyone pervert,” the words are sharp, but the curl to his lips and the underlying playfulness to his tone tells you the likeliness of them being friends is high, “anyways, I know we don’t follow any regulations or anything here, but I’m still gonna take a fuckin’ break or two.”

“Well breaks over,” Ten reaches out a hand to playfully swat the man away, “I didn’t wait this long for you to just interrupt my bonding time with my person alright?”

“Alright, alright,” he finally starts to shuffle away, throwing one last comment about Ten being bitter his person showed up first over his shoulder with a grin.

“What a loser,” Ten starts, looking at you playfully and rolling his eyes, “too bad he’s like my best friend or whatever.”

“You seem to have a lot of fun around here don’t you?” you take a shot at voicing your observations, your heart fluttering in a completely new way at the warm smile he shoots you.

“Just wait a see, my love. Just wait and see.”

[bangtanloverboys]

the first cringe of morning // myg

summary - there were many things one would be nervous about when their new partner spends the night for the first time: was the room clean? is everything in order? did you shave? but you weren’t really nervous about those things, you were nervous as to how he would preceive your scars

pairing - boyfriend!yoongi x trans male!reader

genre - fluff, slight nsfw; newly established relationship au

word count - 1.7k

warnings - mentions of top surgery, reader is slightly insecure of his scars, anxiety, bisexual yoongi, bed sharing, cuddling, non-sexual body worship, kissing, very light non-sexual dom/sub undertones, kinda soft dom!min yoongi, min yoongi being an absolute sweetheart

author’s note - hhhhhh dream scenario honestly. . .happy pride month

Taking a deep breath, you pulled your shirt up, exposing your chest. You stared at your torso in the mirror, your eyes zeroing in on the two thin scars that decorated your chest. You’d gotten top surgery barely a year ago, the scars nearly faded away. You were happy with the results, you’ve never felt happier or more comfortable in your entire life even. You would never go back on the decision you made to get top surgery.

However, it didn’t stop you from being nervous. Why were you nervous? Your new boyfriend, Yoongi, was going to spend the night for the first time ever. You’ve been dating for a few months now and you honestly couldn’t have been happier. You told him you were a trans man a few weeks after you felt like you were possibly getting more serious; he nodded, thanking you for trusting him with the information. While you knew he would do nothing of the sort, your brain couldn’t help but think of terrible outcomes if/when he was to see your chest. 

What if he thought you looked deformed? What if he pointed out your nipples and how they looked weird? What if after what if after what if, plagued your mind. It was stupid and you knew that, but your anxiety continued to eat away at you.

The night so far had been pretty good; he arrived with a couple grocery bags of goodies, as you did ask him to pick up some things on his way over. The two of you had a nice dinner, watched a couple movies, and you were both getting ready to settle down for bed. It was established earlier that you weren’t planning on having sex at all that night, neither of you feeling quite ready for that yet. But you slept shirtless, meaning you had the options of either A. getting it over with and showing him or B. sleep with a shirt on and possibly overboil. Anxiety on the rise, you went with the latter option. 

A knock on the bathroom door startled you, causing you to drop your shirt. 

“I gotta brush my teeth. You decent?” Yoongi asked from the otherside of the door. 

With a light chuckle, you unlocked the door, pulling it open for him. “Come in.”

Walking in, his toothbrush in hand, he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Thank you. Can I use your toothpaste?”

“Yeah, it’s in the little basket by the sink.” You gestured to the counter behind you. “I’m gonna get the bed ready.”

“Hey,” he grabbed your wrist, stopping you from going any further. “You sure you don’t want me sleeping on the couch? Because I’m more than fine with that.”

“No, it’s okay.” You responded, hoping your voice sounded reassuring. Yoongi stared at you for a moment, possibly sensing your nervousness. He didn’t say anything, only nodding; trusting your words. After releasing your wrist, you made your way to your bedroom.

You had cleaned up everything earlier that day, looking nothing like the mess it was the past couple days. But you were satisfied with it, as long as there was no mess on the floor or dirty dishes anywhere, it was fine. With a sigh, you began taking off the decorative pillows you had on display on your full sized bed, neatly stacking them in a pile. As you continued to get the bed ready, your mind wandered, thinking about how you were going to sleep. Did Yoogni have any sleeping habits? Would he cuddle you while you slept? Would he mind the heat you tend to give off when you sleep? So many different random anxieties started to build up over the ones already there. 

“Are we not going to sleep with any pillows or something?” Yoongi’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. Immediately you realized you went a bit too far and even pulled off the actual pillows from the bed, stacking them alongside the decorative ones.

“Shit- I’m sorry, I got a bit carried away.” You gushed as you put the pillows back on the bed. 

“No worries.” You got a good look at him as he walked across the room, towards the bed. He was wearing a loose fitted T-shirt, a pair of grey sweatpants that were hanging low on his hips, and his hair was a mess from being tucked away in a beanie all day. “Do you sleep on any specific side of the bed or free range?”

“I sleep on the right side.” You said, pointing to the side you were closest to. 

“Alright,” he nodded as he made his way over to the left side of the bed. Pulling back the covers, he climbed into bed. You moved to follow him, but he stopped you. “You’re gonna sleep in your jeans?” 

You felt your cheeks grow hot in embarrassment. “Right uh. Hang on.” You muttered as you turned around. As you shuck your jeans off, you can feel Yoongi’s eyes on you, causing the heat in your cheeks to spread to the tips of your ears. Standing in only your boxers and a T-shirt, you deemed yourself ready for bed. When you turned around to face him, you spotted a smirk playing on his lips. Avoiding eye contact, you clambered into bed, shutting off your lamp in the process, leaving you both in the dark room. 

The mattress beneath you shifted as Yoongi adjusted himself to lay down and get comfortable. “C’mere.” He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. You freeze in his hold for a moment, thinking he’s going to possibly make a move, but instead you feel him nuzzle his face into your hair. You smiled as you felt his breathing tickle the skin of your neck. Relaxing into his touch, you allowed yourself to fall asleep in his arms. 

When you woke up to the sunlight bleeding through your blinds, you were genuinely surprised to have slept through the whole night. Usually you’d wake up randomly, but Yoongi was a good luck sleeping charm that now you had, you probably won’t ever let go. You shut your eyes again, wanting a bit more sleep before either of you have to get up.

Just as your mind was about to fall back into sleep, you felt the light touch of Yoongi’s lips drag across the skin of your neck. He peppered soft kisses over the exposed skin, gently tickling you. You giggled at the sensation, but didn’t pull away. In fact, you snuggled closer into him. As he sleepily kissed you, you felt the hand that was still wrapped tightly around your waist ever so slowly slip underneath your shirt. The skin to skin contact had you stiffen. Feeling your discomfort, Yoongi moved to whisper in your ear. 

“Are you okay with this?”

“I-” You struggled to get the words out. “My scars. I- I don’t-”

“Hey shh,” he murmured, kissing the shell of your ear before he readjusted himself on the bed, now hovering over you. “You can tell me, what about your scars?”

“I-I’ve. . . never really had a partner see my scars in a more. . . intimate setting. . .” You all but shrunk under his gaze, refusing to meet his eyes. 

“No, Y/N, look at me.” His hand went to your cheek, gently forcing you to look up at him. Meeting his dark eyes, you feel nothing but adoration pouring out from them, overwhelming you. “I care about all of you, scars and all. You are the most handsome creature I’ve had the privilege of knowing.” You felt tears prick at your eyes, threatening to spill. Your hand went up to cup his cheek, bringing him down to meet your lips. The kiss was nothing too special, it was slow and gentle, yet it didn’t stop your heart from racing. Yoongi’s other hand was sneaking back underneath your shirt as he pulled away. “Is it okay if I show you?”

With a gulp, you nodded.

“Use your words, baby.” 

“Yes.” You rasped out.

Once given the green light, he pressed a kiss to your lips, then your cheek, then your neck. He kissed down your clothed torso until he was over your hips, his hands slowly curling up the bottom of your shirt. His eyes never left yours as he exposed more and more skin, stopping just below your scars. Lowing his head to your stomach, he kissed you right below your belly button. Your eyes fluttered shut as he pecked all over your stomach; on occasion he’d catch you by surprise by blowing a raspberry, eliciting a laugh from you. 

He reached the edge of your shirt again, placing his hands on the fabric before moving it anymore. “Do you wanna take this off?”

“Yeah.”

It was a bit of a struggle but with Yoongi’s help, you got the T-shirt off. His eyes not once leaving you as he tossed the shirt to some corner of the room. The silence was thick as you watched him stare at you, saying nothing. Embarrassment burned in your cheeks as you moved to cover yourself, but his hands grabbed at your wrists, pinning them to your side.

“You’re absolutely stunning, Y/N.” He praised as he lowered himself to be over your ribcage. “Please don’t doubt that, I see nothing but the most beautiful man in front of me.” Yoongi muttered as he littered kisses along your scars, the sensation light from what little feeling you have left. His words left butterflies erupting in your stomach and your head reeling, trying to accept the compliments he gave you. You don’t think anyone has ever said that to you, hell, you don’t even think you’ve said that about yourself. But to have Yoongi tell you had you drunk. 

He’d nip at your skin, testing where you could feel, and when he felt you shutter against him, your boyfriend made sure to pay extra attention there. All while mumbling praises into your skin, assuring you that he thought nothing less of the world of you.

By the time his head came back up above yours, his lips were kiss swollen and you were breathless. Smiling down at you, he leaned down, kissing you one last time before pulling away. He laid his head down on your chest, snaking his arms around you to hold you tight. Your arms went to wrap around his shoulders, messing with his hair at the nape of his neck. There the two of you laid for the next few hours, as the sun rose higher in the sky, simply enjoying each other’s company.

[celestialmango]

(an anon sent me a prompt a while ago that caught my interest and I tweaked it a little so I wouldn't get writers block and get stuck but honestly whoever you are anon, great job👍, I loved it but it just took awhile for creative juices to flow so I could write it out.)

Soft vore, stuffing, unwilling Prey, ambiguous ending, reader insert, fatal mentions.

🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭

Holy shit, you shiver in fear at the knowledge just given to you by the college staff, you shouldn't have signed up for the dorms fuck what do you do? You don't know but you don't have a choice now, you chosen a college far from home and didn't have the money to rent a place. You can see pity on the staffs face as if they know they signed your death warrant. You take a deep breath, stand up and leave.

You don't have a choice, you can't afford to go anywhere else, you were just assigned to be the roommate of a well-known upper class man Pred on campus, as you slowly walk a down the path to the main dorm you feel you have to think, what do you do? as you enter the building....you have an idea, it might be dumb, might not even work but if a plan like this might help you survive you have to at least try it right? You clap your hands and pray to whatever deities are out there that this will work.

You walk down the hall to your assigned dorm room and knock on the door, after a moment it opens and you're face to face with a gurgling bulge of a stomach, you try not to let it phase you as you look up at the towering form rubbing the back of their neck before they look down at you, before the can do anything you play your cards 'o-oh wow you're tall! Hi I'm (y/n)!' you say with an innocent friendly smile 'the dorm manager assigned me as your roommate, from the sound of it you sound pretty hungry which is great! I wanted to invite you out to a buffet I saw on my bus ride to campus for lunch, my treat!' you look at them expectantly waiting for a reply after your word vomit.

After a few minutes of silence and them just staring down at you begin to fidget in place, they just blink at you slowly, looking as if they're debating some as they lift a hand to their mouth and yawn, you fidget a bit more nervously as you see how wide their maw can stretch and see their sharp canines dripping with saliva before their hand drops and their jaw relaxes. Their other hand finds it's way to the back of your shirt and they bring you inside the room before dropping you on a giant beanbag chair, they yawn again "Nnnn fuck it sure, give me a minute, I gotta put on some pants."

Phase one of plan play dumb success! The staff members said your roommate would eat you as soon as they opened the door, but instead you convinced them to a buffet instead, you take your chance to look around the room and your smile drops a little into a look of concern and confusion. There's only one bed. After getting dressed the come out of a bathroom and see your face "what's with you?" They ask sounding a little hostile, you respond by letting your face flush and scratching your cheek with a finger 'u-um well.' their eyes are gazing at you like a hawk 'there's only one bed in the room, this college doesn't really make roommates share a bed do they?' the Predator responds with an unnerving grin "most of my roommates don't last long."

Deflect! Deflect and act cute! You smile at them innocently again and tilt your head 'oh? Did they get kicked out for some reason or something?' their grin gains an aura of menace. "Or something." You put a hand on your chin in thought, 'by the way how do we get to town from campus? Do you have a car or will we be taking a bus to buffet.' their grin drops as they pause for a moment raising their eyebrow, "do you honestly think someone my size can fit in a car? Because the answer is no." You just grin at them 'guess I'll be paying for bus passes too then' they shake their head "naw, the college provides monthly passes, now come on, we'll want to hurry because the next one will leave soon." You look startled before you leap up, 'ok'.

You have trouble keeping up with them as you both run so they quickly turn back pick you up and tuck you under their arm before rushing to the bus stop, they really want that free food you offered, a chance to pig out that they don't have to pay for sounds great to them.

-----------

To saw you were surprised at how much $5 at a buffet could stretch was an understatement, barely half an hour and a tower of plates was stacked on the table you two sat at and as the pred finished their final plate a well dress person came up and banned you both from coming back, as you both stood on the sidewalk you spoke with a stunned look on your face 'i didn't know it was possible to get kicked out of an all you can eat buffet' the pred patted at their large gut "yeah, pity. I'm not even full yet." They pause looking like they're thinking about something again when you spoke again 'what? Seriously? You ate out the entire buffet.' they look towards you again with a strange gaze that you don't even notice and answer.

"I could go for more." You don't even see them reach for you before you turn to them with a mischievous grin while ask them an question that interests them greatly 'wanna see how many buffets we can banned from in a day?' they hesitate, the hand they were about to snatch you up freezes for a second before it reaches down to pat your shoulder instead as they give you a wide grin and an enthusiastic reply "hell yeah." And off you both went to cause as much chaos as possible before you had to go back to campus.

-----

A few hour later and they can barely squeeze themselves out of the doors of the bus as you return to campus, their gut bulging out so large it look as if they ate a moose, the both of you laughing '-i mean the look on that guys face when you snatched up and ate an entire turkey whole as they chased us out was priceless' "pfft yeah but what about the other guy when I ran out of the kitchen with that pot of soup a chugged it?" You both walk towards the dorm 'he looked like he was about to faint! That was right off the stove! Like boiling hot! How in the world did that not burn like you were drinking lava?' "heat resistance is a wonderful thing" they reply grinning from ear to ear.

After they open the door and you're about turn to leave to talk to staff about finishing the dorm paperwork their hand presses against your back a shove you into their room, you don't see a dark look flash across their face for a moment before disappearing, there is an unnerving tone to their voice that gives no room for argument as they speak "hey now, how about we spend a bit more time together?" It doesn't sound like a question but more like an order. Afraid and nervous about what may happen if you say no, you agree.

They hand you a controller and ask in a voice, as if they know exactly how the words sound

"Wanna smash?" 'Hah' you can't help the laugh that comes out, you shouldn't have told them about your weakness to dirty jokes.

----

Time passes fast as you play smash bros together for a while then move on to more multiple play games, you keep noticing they way they glance at you sometimes with a look that scares you, sometimes licking their lips, you notice as time goes by the size of their stomach decreases and the more it does, the more these moments of staring increase.

Their stomach growls a low long sound and you feel like you're sweating as you shiver while a chill shoots down your spine,you speak in a shaky voice as you get up and start walking towards the door 'w-ell t-this has been fun but I have speak to staff about sleeping arrangements as there's not room for me her right now' you open the door a crack before it slams shut, you see the Pred's hand above you and the other engulfs your shoulder, the tone Pred speaks to you in makes your heart stop "oh I have room." Before the spin you around, pinning your arms to your sides as their jaw stretches open and they lift you up , shoving your head inside and swallowing before you can properly process the situation.

The grip of their throat is tight, but the fleshy tube contracts and releases easily as the experienced muscles drag you deeper inside, you snap out your stunned state a futilely kick and squirm , the struggles doing nothing except helping you slide down faster, the Pred groaning at your flavor as they gulp heavily and fast, impatient and greedy they feel they have waited for this long enough. Your head passed through the opening to their stomach and thinking fast you hold your breath, closing your eye as your face is shoved into the pile of half digested remains of the multiple buffets they cleaned out.

You're quickly force inside, curling up you gasp as your head emerges from the slurry of food, it stick to your hair, a foul acidic smell in your nostrils, you barely have the room to move and you start to cry feeling a bit betrayed but your soft sobs can't be heard over the gurgles and groans of the chamber as it continues to work on the food around you.

-----

"Aaah that hit the spot." They plop back down on their beanbag, their gut having grown in size once more, they give it a couple pats then rub it lightly "out of everything I ate today you are definitely the tastiest." They mean that fully, they had been planning to do this since they were first told that staff was going to once again, try to give them a roommate, a freshman this time, you were always going to feed them, they just didn't expect you to do it in more ways than one.

They continue to switch between rubbing and patting their their gut as a thoughtful look crosses their face, they had made up their mind to eat you, nothing you did was ever going to change that, however, what happens afterwards is still up for debate because honestly you are probably the first one staff sent that was actually friendly towards them instead of an entitled jackass , you also took them out and let them stuff themselves till they couldn't eat anymore, they had to wait to digest a bit before they could fit you in too, but even then they had a really good time today with you.

Considering who and what they were it wouldn't take but a second to cast the spell they would need to keep you from being lost inside their stomach forever, hell you might even actually be a good roommate if they give you that chance....a low whiny gurgle sounds from their gut. Whatever their decision is they will need to make it soon, they have about 15 minutes before the acid in their stomach starts to affect you too.

[kozumebunny]

Haikyuu boys + trouble in paradise

You don’t seriously think that being with the haikyuu boys is perfect, right? Moving in is just another challenge. Some make it easier than others.

TSUKISHIMA KEI will not let you raid his closet. Once you take something you don’t give it back. When you move in, it’s a two bedroom apartment. He values his space and some days he’ll come home and go right to his room. Why can’t you pick up that he needs his alone time? Also, did you seriously take another one of his shirts? It’s not that hard, just wash it and put it in his laundry pile, why won’t you respect his space? 

SAKUSA KIYOOMI will not budge when you move in with him. No, you can’t bring all that shit, it’s just gonna clutter the shelves and mean MORE dusting. Why do you want to make everything more of a hassle and- oh my god. It’s been three days, why haven’t you mopped, cleaned the bottom of all your shoes? You know what? Don’t bother. You’re just gonna fuck up the clean system he has in his house.

HINATA SHOYO isn’t messy. It’s organized chaos! That pile over there is clean clothes, hence why they’re folded and stacked. That one is dirty, which is why it’s away from everything else. Hey, why are you cleaning his closet? Stop babying him! He doesn’t need someone to nag him! Why do you have to clean everything? Now he doesn’t know where his clean clothes are. No. he will not do laundry or help a lot around the house.

MIYA OSAMU will want a place in the city. An apartment most likely. But it’s so busy and loud and smokey and the air is just so b a d. Yeah he wants kids, but he won’t give you a house. He needs to stay close to the restaurant, that’s his first baby. You won’t get a house with a white picket fence and you won’t get a pet either. He can’t stand to have the fur everywhere or having to put up with something as energetic as a dog.

MIYA ATSUMU will not make the house yours, He will make it his. It has to have a trophy shelf, pictures of his victories newspaper clippings of his victories framed and hung everywhere. Why do you need to hang up your picture from high school? You don’t even talk to them anymore. Fine, we can hang it in the hallway. Just make a photo album and put it on the coffee table next time. jesus. Oh yeah, that spare room? It’s his man cave. the garage? His gym. Is there any room for you in your own house?

KITA SHINSUKE lives on a farm. What’s the internet connection like? Why do you want to go clubbing for a date? Oh god, please don’t wear a skimpy clubbing outfit his grandma is right there. You work in the city? It’s a long commute. Just work from home. Shinsuke can support both of you anyways. Also, it’s a farm. You’re in the middle of nowhere. Hope you enjoy bugs and snakes coming into the house every now and then. Oh, and while he’s working and while his grandma gets older, you’ll be the one having to look after the house more often. Not much compromise there.

AKAASHI KEIJI wants a quiet place. Don’t blare your music when he’s working, when it’s early, or when it’s late. It’s an unspoken rule. Also there are bookshelves everywhere. you two have a huge collection. But no, no plants in the house. No dirt or dead leaves. none are allowed in the house. Go put it outside where it belongs.

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI will not help you pick out decorations. He’d prefer a simple aesthetic but if you want to hang up all the photos of you two available in the house, don’t test him he’s already looking for the hammer and nails. It’s frustrating, you are the one decorating the house. it becomes a your space instead of an our space. (communist theme starts to play) He won’t help, only saying, we should have a bookcase in the living room, to put more photos and albums on. Dude. Go pick out a bookcase then. Why do you want me to do it?? Were you not the one who suggested it??

KOZUME KENMA is such a basic help. He doesn’t care about the aesthetic only that the furniture colors don’t clash. Also, while you’re at IKEA he’s on his phone. Looking up a new gaming chair and monitor. And decorations for his gaming room, which has a bed and doubles as his personal space. He’s not too much help when you want to decorate the rest of the house. He’s more than happy to help prep the house for an arrival of a new kitten though!

KUROO TETSUROU will not tell you what’s on his mind. Why are you keeping the house plans secret? Are you making an ahegao manga wall? I don’t know! Mans is just gonna start pulling things off shelves asking if you like it then put it in the cart. Tetsu babe. Half this shit doesn’t match. Put it back.

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

Hi, I just want to tell you that I've been following your tumblr for a short time since I love your fanfiction, and let me tell you that if I could help you in any way, I would do that in a second. But, & I hope you don't take this the wrong way, since you started posting about not having enough money & your stepdad not being able to work because of his injury & everything else, I wanted to ask you If you have a job? Or if you are looking for one? (Unless there is a reason why you can't work).

Mom is disabled. I'm the one who had to clean the house and cook while step-dad and step-bro's wife went to work. The problem, is that step bro lived with us but refused to help with the rent or bills and he wasn't kicked out because of his baby. He's done the whole moving out and then moving back in thing 6 times already since he was 17. That's 8 years of this behavior, but this time he didn't have a job and had a newborn. His wife was the one working, but they weren't saving money or trying to plan. They just lived with us for free and spent everything on name brand candy.

(That tilts me btw because at least they could have saved cash by getting off brand candy at cheaper prices.)

Finally, the one time he was told he had to start helping out and stop wasting his wife's paycheck on candy, he threw a fit and hauled his family back to PA to live with her parents. BUT they made him get a job and he caved within a month and moved them somewhere else. He still has to have a job cuz they're expecting another kid now and his wife can't work as a result. Boo hoo for him.

When we got told the landlady was evicting us(illegally) I started the Ko-Fi account. Mom started the gofundme. I've been writing for people(fics and homework) on top of doing what I was already doing because, now that step-dad is unable to work, we have no real ways of making money but he can't help much around the house because he can barely move. Getting stuff in the storage unit was hell enough and he fell several times, lost his grip on things because he can't feel sensations anymore, and nearly passed out from the pain in his knee.

Living in the middle of nowhere and the nearest place you could apply for a job being 25 miles away, isn't good on a beat up van that doesn't work. My sister wanted a job for months and it took her that long to finally find a small pizza place that would hire her. Everywhere else had stiff requirement that no one could fulfill, especially when we didn't have guaranteed transportation. My sister had to shell out half her weekly paycheck just because step-dad had to drive 27 miles 4 times a day, and then more sometimes for anti-freeze.

Mom and I settled my position in the house years ago. I was like 18 or around there. I was being ragged on for having no job but also not being in college. 'Just being lazy'. And I pointed out that I was the one taking care of the house and if I didn't do anything they'd all die in filth without me.

We put it to a test. I did no housework for a week and nothing was clean. People were changing in the living room and leaving their dirty clothes everywhere. No clean clothes to wear. All garbage was left around the house instead of taken into the kitchen, so there were cans, bottles, wrappers, boxes, etc... lying everywhere. We got ants. The floors were covered in sticky red shit, the dishes were never clean and just piled up beside the sink, and finally, there was a gross black ring in the tub.

People had spent that whole time complaining about me having no job and being useless to the family. The amount of complaints about my lack of effort during that week quintupled and I was very pleased with myself at the end with all this proof around me. People more willing to wash a pot that's been in the cupboard for 3 years over washing a pot in the sink, and then adding that dirty pot to the sink/washer/dryer stack of dishes.

So mom took my side and told me that so long as I continue doing what I'm doing, since no one else will have the time or will to do it, then I can stay just fine. I get her food. I clean her room. I'm her legs because hers don't work anymore.

Maybe having a stable job would help us right now, if we factor out costs of gas in a place where it's almost $4, but with both of them incapable of functioning without me here to fetch shit for them and clean up after them, what's gonna happen? Bethy isn't here. Step-bro fucked us over. I'm it right now.

[drunktuesdays]

I KNOW ur #1 AU scenario is Dirty Dancing but have you considered a Sweet Home Alabama AU? Have you considered getting torqued to a couple that broke up because they were young and stupid reuniting later having grown into people who are different but are still secretly IN LOVE? LEA have you ever even THOUGHT about a himbo pining but letting his love go, because he knows He Doesn't Deserve Them? A hunky man WISTFULLY saying they missed their chance and bashfully kissing their ex on the cheek?!

GIRL YOU KNOW I'M GETTING FULL TORQUED OVER EVERY BEAUTIFUL ROMCOM!!!!!!!!!! OF COURSE I'VE HURT MYSELF MBATING OVER SWEET HOME ALABAMA AUS!!!!!!!!!!! THINKING ABOUT A MAN TRYING TO MOVE ON WITH HIS HEART AND HIS SOUL BUT BEING FORCED TO RETURN HOME AND CONFRONT THE PAST WHEREIN THE PAST IS ANOTHER BEAUTIFUL MAN WHO SECRETLY NEVER GOT OVER HIM????? HELLO????????????

unforch u are gonna have to hear about my current obsession (wrestling rpf) because it's literally the only thing i ever wanna talk about (unless it's me Looking Respectfully at the racecar men but that's another post).

me and @longnationalnightmare went absolutely apeshit one night thinking about an au where jim and dustin were dating/got married real young. they were both lil baby trash indie wrestlers and were making shit and didn't care. full "we can live on love alone" status and getting the shit kicked out of them up and down the east coast. and then, i don't know. shit got hard. jim's career started kinda taking off. dustin's wasn't, and then dustin got hurt. it wouldn't have made a difference—shouldn't have made a difference—but dustin got mean about it, drinking too much, depressed as shit. who knows what was the thing that made it tip over from miserable to unbearable but something did, and jim gave up. he was right to—they were just fucking hurting each other and it wasn't gonna stop.

but then jim ended up dating some guy—we'll call him josh. josh isn't a wrestler. josh is an accountant. or a risk analyst. or an optometrist. who cares. he thinks jim's wrestling career is funny. he doesn't mean to be condescending about it—it's not like he doesn't come to matches when he can. he hoots and hollers with the best of them. just, sometimes it's kind of annoying when he talks about how jim could always go back to architecture any time he wanted. jim knows josh loves him. knows jim's schedule is hard on him, and is grateful josh is so nice about it. and then one night at dinner with all of josh and jim's nice friends, josh gets down on one knee and asks the question. of COURSE jim says yes, like what else is he even gonna say? but his mind is racing with something like panic, and a few days later he apologizes, says he's just gotten last minute booked in california—he'll be back as soon as he can. josh kisses him on the head, says no problem, takes him to the airport where jim buys a flight down south instead.

u know the deal now. jim rents a car, drives out to murray, goes looking for dustin. he left dustin in BAD shape, tbh, so he's pretty much expecting to find him in some dive bar, playing darts, trashtalking people who absolutely would punch him, doing shots with anyone who would buy them.

instead, dustin's mom hugs him, yells at him for not calling, and gives him directions to find dustin with a little unreadable look on her face. he's like "cool, whatever" and so is entirely emotionally unprepared to pull up to a newish looking building with a fresh sign advertising Big Cat Wrestling School. jim lets himself in, hesitantly, looking around. it's a big place, clean, equipment stacked everywhere. there's a group of teens in the ring, practicing chops on each other and laughing. there's a frazzled looking twenty-something trying to help another cluster of nine-year-olds practicing somersaults on the mats. jim edges back against the wall, and looks around, brain completely blanked out.

"dustin!" one of the kids shrieks suddenly, and peels off from the group, tackles dustin as he comes in the front door. dustin lifts him up, and powerslams him into the mat while he dissolves in giggles. "get to work, squirt," he says, and keeps going.

"dustin" someone else says, and dustin says "later kevin, i really gotta do payroll if you idiots want beer money," and the guy goes "no, i mean--" and points to jim.

"oh," dustin says, blinking at him. "huh." he doesn't look happy exactly. jim doesn't know how to read his face. dustin takes him to the back, into nice-sized office with his name on the plaque outside. jim wanders around, touches stuff on the shelves, looks at the photos. "you own this place?" he says, finally.

"yeah," dustin says. "well, the bank owns a lot of it but i get to sign the checks."

"good—" jim says. "good, that's—really good. i just—when i left—i didn't know you wanted this."

"well," dustin says, kind of flatly. "we stopped talking much at the end." jim doesn't have anything to say to that, touches one finger to a framed picture of dustin at the bottom of a pile of something like 20 beaming kids. "so what brings you here?" dustin says, after a beat.

"oh," jim says, and then he nervously twists the silver band on his finger. "i uh—got engaged last weekend."

"oh yeah?" dustin says, face unreadable. "congratulations. i guess you came down to get that divorce you wanted."

"yeah," jim says. "i brought the papers." the ones you sent back three times, he doesn't say.

"that was nice of you," dustin says. "i'm still not signing shit. it was good seeing you though. say hi to your sisters for me."

jim glares at him. dustin grins.