#puts my head down and goes to be alone again

[winwintea]

the call

PAIRING ↬ lee donghyuck x fem!reader

TAGS ↬ thriller, cheating!?, romance, angst(?), blood, attempted murder, i really don't know how to tag this, non-linear narrative, maybe horror

SUMMARY ↬ haechan leaves you a cryptic phone call on a night out. something about this doesn’t sit right with you.

WORD COUNT ↬3.3k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ surprise! this isn't the jisung fic but i decided to pull this one out of my sleeve as well. title and fic is inspired by "the call" by backstreet boys! the fic is also not written in linear order.

1 HOUR BEFORE THE INCIDENT:

“Hello?”

“Hi, it's me, what's up, baby? I'm sorry, listen, I'm gonna be late tonight So, don't stay up and wait for me, okay?”

“Where are you?”

“Wait, wait, say that again?”

“Haechan. Hello?”

“You're really dropping out, I think my battery must be low. Listen, if you can hear me, we're going to a place nearby, alright? Gotta go.”

4 HOURS BEFORE THE INCIDENT:

“Don’t pout,” Haechan teases, slinging his jacket over his shoulder. His voice is light, but his teasing smile can’t hide the affection in his eyes.

“I’m not pouting,” you argue, crossing your arms in mock defiance.

“You’re pouting,” he insists, stepping closer until he’s standing right in front of you. He tilts his head, studying your expression, before leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “Admit it. You’ll miss me.”

“I won’t,” you shoot back, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays you.

“Liar.” He grins, tugging on the strings of your hoodie playfully. “Don’t worry, I’ll behave. Just a couple of drinks with the guys, and I’ll be back before you even have time to miss me for real.”

“Uh-huh. Famous last words.” You roll your eyes, but you don’t stop him as he walks toward the door.

“Text me if you get bored without me,” he calls out, slipping on his sneakers.

“You mean when you get bored and want an excuse to leave early,” you counter, leaning against the doorframe as you watch him put on his jacket.

“Guilty,” he admits with a wink. “Alright, baby, I’m out. Love you.”

“Love you too,” you reply softly, watching as he steps outside.

This is normal. Haechan always goes out with his friends on Saturdays. You glance at your phone, opening the chat with him to send a quick, “Be safe. Don’t let them drag you into anything dumb.” You know he won’t see it right away, but it makes you feel better.

30 MINUTES BEFORE THE INCIDENT:

You’re pacing the living room, your phone clutched tightly in your hand. Haechan’s earlier call echoes in your mind. 

I’m going to a place nearby.

The shrill sound of your ringtone breaks through your thoughts, and you nearly drop the phone in your scramble to answer.

“Sunoo?” you ask, recognizing the name on the screen.

“Y/N, hey,” Sunoo says, his voice laced with hesitation. “Um, I’m sorry if this is weird, but I thought I should tell you something.”

Your stomach twists. “What’s wrong?”

“I just saw Haechan… I think,” he says nervously. “He was walking down the street near the bar, but he wasn’t alone.”

Your breath catches. “Who was he with?”

“A woman,” Sunoo admits reluctantly. “She was… kind of close to him. Like, really close. I thought it was weird because he looked tense—like he was nervous, while also trying to relax. But she was smiling, laughing. I didn’t want to assume anything, but…”

You sit down on the couch, your legs threatening to give out. “Where did you see them?”

“Toward the alley near the old convenience store. They were walking away from the bar,” Sunoo says, his words spilling out quickly. “I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure if I should get involved or assume anything, but I thought you should know.”

Your mind races. That’s not far. But why would he leave the bar with a woman?

“Thanks for telling me,” you manage, your voice trembling.

“Y/N, I don’t think he—” Sunoo starts, but you cut him off.

“It’s okay. I’ll figure it out. Thank you.”

You hang up before he can say anything else, your hands shaking as you dial Haechan’s number.

“Come on, pick up,” you mutter, pacing again. The call goes straight to voicemail. You redial, but it’s the same result. “Haechan, please, just call me back. I don’t care what’s going on—I just need to know you’re okay.”

You end the call and clutch the phone to your chest, trying to steady your breathing.

You didn’t think he was cheating. You didn’t want to think that. But what if he really was with another woman? What if he lied about being late?

“No,” you whisper to yourself. Haechan wasn’t like that. You trusted him. But then why did he sound so strange on the phone? And who was this woman?

Your phone buzzes again, but it’s not Haechan. It’s a message from Sunoo: “Don’t make any assumptions. He looked… scared. Either he’s nervous about getting caught or something else. Be careful. Don’t do anything rash.”

Scared? Your chest tightens as panic fully takes over. Something is horribly wrong.

Without another thought, you grab your coat and keys, determined to find him yourself.

3 HOURS BEFORE THE INCIDENT:

The bar is alive with energy—music thumping, glasses clinking, and conversations overlapping. Haechan sits at a table with his friends, a round of drinks between them. He laughs at something Jaemin says, his head tipping back as he taps the table.

“Another round?” Jaemin asks, holding up his empty glass.

Haechan shakes his head. “I’m good for now. You’re not dragging me into your three-shots-in-five-minutes challenge again.”

“Come on,” Jaemin groans dramatically. “You’re so boring these days, man. What happened to the Haechan who used to party like a legend?”

“He got a girlfriend,” Renjun cuts in, smirking. “And he doesn’t want to die if she finds out he got plastered without telling her.”

The table erupts in laughter, and Haechan just shrugs, grinning. “Hey, priorities. Y/N’s cuter than all of you combined.”

As the guys banter, none of them notice the woman until she’s standing right by their table. Her hair is sleek, her makeup flawless, and her gaze sharp as she focuses entirely on Haechan.

“Hi,” she says, her voice smooth and confident. “I couldn’t help but notice you from across the room.”

Haechan blinks, clearly caught off guard. “Oh. Uh, hi.”

She smiles, leaning in slightly. “You looked like you were having fun, but maybe later… I’ve got a little place nearby. Wanna go?”

The air shifts awkwardly at the table. Although her invitation is innocent, her intentions are clear. Haechan’s friends exchange glances, their smirks fading as they realize what’s happening.

Haechan’s smile is polite but firm. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m good. I’ve got someone waiting for me at home.”

Her smile falters for a split second before she recovers, her tone light but insistent. “Are you sure? It’s not far, and I think you’d enjoy it.”

Haechan shakes his head. “Thanks, but no. Have a good night.”

She lingers for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly, before she finally steps back. “Your loss,” she murmurs, turning on her heel and walking away.

As she moves to a dark corner of the bar, Haechan exhales, muttering, “Well, that was weird.”

Jaemin snorts. “You should’ve seen your face, man.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Haechan says, waving him off. But something about the encounter reminds him of something. He glances toward the woman, and for a fleeting moment, their eyes meet. 

Oh fuck.

15 MINUTES BEFORE THE INCIDENT:

The air is cold against your skin as you hurriedly zip up your jacket and step out into the night. The street feels far too quiet for a Saturday evening, the streetlights casting long, eerie shadows on the pavement. You clutch your phone in your hand, gripping it like a lifeline as your mind races.

Sunoo’s text flashes in your head: “Don’t make assumptions.”

But when Sunoo had told the others, they weren’t so sure. 

“Y/N, maybe you should stop and think,” your friend Jihoon had said on the phone. He had called you as soon as Sunoo relayed the information to him. “I mean, I don’t want to make you upset, but what if… what if Haechan’s just—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” you had snapped, cutting him off. “You think he’s cheating, don’t you?”

There had been a long pause on the other end before Jihoon finally said, “I mean, what else could it be? Sunoo said he was with some girl, right?”

You’d hung up after that, unable to handle the doubt in Jihoon’s voice. But then Giselle called, her tone softer but no less skeptical.

“Y/N, I’m worried about you,” she’d said. “I know you trust Hyuck, but... sometimes people surprise you. Maybe he’s not who you think he is.”

“He’s not cheating,” you’d insisted, though your voice had wavered. “He wouldn’t do that to me.”

“Then where is he?” Minjeong asked, and for a moment, you’d felt your resolve crack.

But now, as you march down the sidewalk, your determination solidifies. You know Haechan. You know how much he loves you. And that phone call—the rushed tone, the way he kept cutting out—wasn’t the voice of someone sneaking around. It was the voice of someone in trouble. At least you thought so.

You stop at the corner of the street, glancing around desperately. There’s no sign of him. You dial his number again, only to be met with voicemail. Your heart pounds harder with each failed attempt to reach him.

Finally, with trembling hands, you call the police.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“My boyfriend is missing,” you say, your voice breaking. “I think—I think something’s wrong. He called me earlier, and he sounded…nervous. And now his phone’s off, and my friend saw him with a strange woman—please, I need help.”

The dispatcher asks you a series of questions: Haechan’s description, the last place he was seen, the time of the call. You answer as best as you can, your voice growing shakier with every detail.

“We’ll send an officer to patrol the area,” the dispatcher says. “Please stay where you are and remain calm.”

But you can’t stay put. You hang up and keep walking, your eyes darting to every shadow, every alley.

“Y/N, stop.”

You turn to see Sunoo jogging up to you, his face etched with worry. Behind him are Jihoon and Giselle, who look less concerned and more resigned.

“We told you not to do anything rash. What are you doing?” Jihoon asks, crossing his arms. “The cops will handle it.”

“I can’t just stand around and wait!” you snap. “Something’s wrong, Jihoon. I can feel it.”

“What if there’s nothing wrong?” Giselle says carefully. “Y/N, what if he just… didn’t want you to know where he was going?”

“Stop,” Sunoo interjects, glaring at her. “I told you he looked nervous and scared. You weren’t there. You didn’t see what I saw.”

“Or maybe you’re overthinking it,” Jihoon mutters.

You shake your head, tears pricking your eyes. “I know Haechan. He wouldn’t do this to me. If he hasn’t come back, it’s because he can’t.”

Your voice cracks, and Sunoo places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “We’ll find him,” he says softly. “Let’s just keep looking.”

Jihoon sighs, but he and Giselle reluctantly follow as you start walking again. 

Haechan didn’t betray you. You were going to believe in this. And you’re going to find him, no matter what.

12 HOURS AFTER THE INCIDENT:

The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor is the first thing Haechan registers as he slowly comes to. His body feels heavy, his limbs weighted down as though they’re not his own. He tries to move, but the sharp sting radiating from his side stops him.

“Where…” he croaks, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. His throat feels like sandpaper.

“You’re awake.”

The unfamiliar voice makes him flinch. His head turns slowly, and he squints through the bright, sterile light. A nurse stands by his bedside, adjusting the IV bag hanging from a metal pole. She’s wearing a kind smile, but there’s a shadow of concern in her eyes.

“Where am I?” he manages, his voice rasping.

“You’re at St. Mary’s Hospital,” she says gently. “You were brought in last night. Do you remember anything?”

His mind feels like it’s wrapped in fog. He struggles to piece together fragments of memory, but it’s all blurry—flashes of faces, the sound of a scream, and an overwhelming sense of fear. His stomach twists.

“I… I don’t know,” he admits. “What happened?”

The nurse hesitates. “You were found unconscious in the middle of the road. You have some injuries—a fractured rib, a concussion, and some deep bruising. You’re lucky someone called the paramedics when they did.”

Someone. Who? His thoughts race, but they’re disjointed, scattered.

“Was I… alone?” he asks, his voice trembling.

The nurse’s expression flickers with hesitation. “There were others. Two men—they were taken to surgery for more severe injuries—and a woman. She’s stable now but hasn’t regained consciousness yet.”

Haechan’s breath catches. A woman. His mind scrambles for answers. The image of a smile—sharp, too wide—flickers in his memory, and a chill runs down his spine.

“Who… who is she?” he whispers.

“We don’t know yet,” the nurse replies. “The police are looking into it.”

Police.

His heart races, and the beeping of the monitor speeds up with it.

“Easy,” the nurse says quickly, pressing a hand to his shoulder to calm him. “Don’t push yourself too hard. You need to rest.”

Haechan squeezes his eyes shut, trying to slow his breathing. But his mind won’t stop spinning. Through the haze, he catches snippets of conversation from outside the room.

“…police said they found them restrained…”

“…looks like they were attacked…”

“…the woman was armed. Dangerous.”

Haechan’s stomach churns. He wants to ask, to demand answers, but his body betrays him, too weak to do anything but listen.

The nurse finishes adjusting the machines and steps back. “I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake. If you need anything, press the call button, okay?”

He nods faintly, though he doesn’t feel okay. Not even close.

2 HOURS BEFORE THE INCIDENT:

The bar is alive with laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the faint hum of music from the jukebox in the corner. Haechan leans back in his seat, laughing at a joke Jaemin just cracked. His glass is nearly empty, condensation sliding down the sides as he swirls the last bit of his drink absently.

It’s been a good night. Lighthearted, carefree. Exactly what he needed after a long week.

But then, his phone vibrates on the table, cutting through the noise. Haechan picks it up, glancing at the screen casually. The glow of the display reflects in his eyes, and in an instant, the ease in his expression vanishes.

His smile falters. His face drains of color.

The others don’t notice at first, too caught up in their conversation. But as Haechan’s eyes scan the message, his fingers tighten around the phone, his knuckles turning white. His shoulders stiffen, and his breathing becomes shallow.

“Everything okay?” Jaemin asks, nudging him lightly.

Haechan doesn’t answer right away. His gaze is fixed on the screen, his lips pressed into a thin line. His thumb hovers over the screen as though debating whether to respond, but instead, he locks the phone and places it face down on the table.

“I’ll be right back,” he mutters, his voice low.

Jaemin frowns, his brows knitting together. “You good?”

Haechan forces a nod, though his expression betrays him. “Yeah. Just… need some air. Plus I need to make a quick call.”

Without waiting for a response, he grabs his jacket and stands, weaving through the crowded bar toward the exit. His movements are quick but shaky, his shoulders slightly hunched as if trying to make himself smaller.

As he passes by the bar, he doesn’t notice the woman from earlier sitting at the corner, watching him intently. She swirls her drink lazily, her red-painted nails tapping against the glass in a rhythmic pattern.

Her eyes follow him as he pushes open the door and steps into the cold night air. A smirk spreads across her face, sharp and knowing. She lifts her glass, taking a slow sip, and sets it down with deliberate precision.

Her fingers curl around the edge of the glass, tightening until her knuckles strain. The corners of her mouth twitch as if she’s holding back a laugh.

“Right on time,” she murmurs to herself, her voice drowned out by the noise of the bar.

30 MINUTES AFTER THE INCIDENT:

Flashing red and blue lights cast frantic, distorted shadows across the street, the wail of sirens blending with the hum of voices—police officers, paramedics, and onlookers.

You stand frozen at the edge of it all, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Your chest feels like it’s caving in, your pulse racing so fast it blurs the world around you. It’s too much. Too loud. Too bright. Too real.

“Y/N!”

Sunoo’s voice snaps you out of your stupor. He reaches you in seconds, his hands gripping your shoulders as if to anchor you. “Breathe,” he urges, his voice trembling. “You have to breathe.”

But how can you? How can you breathe when the man you love might be—

You blink hard, tears streaming down your face, and your gaze shifts to the ambulance parked nearby. Paramedics wheel someone out on a stretcher, their face obscured by oxygen masks and bloodied bandages.

Haechan.

Your knees buckle, and Sunoo catches you before you hit the ground. “Stay with me,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “He’s alive, Y/N. He’s alive.”

But alive doesn’t mean okay. Alive doesn’t mean safe.

Jihoon and Giselle appear beside you, their faces pale and grim. Giselle’s hand wraps around yours, squeezing tightly. “We don’t know what happened,” she says, her voice hushed but firm. “But he’s in good hands now. They’ll do everything they can.”

You nod, but it’s hollow. Empty. The truth is, you don’t know if anything will be enough.

None of this adds up. And it’s eating at you.

The stretcher disappears into the ambulance, the doors slamming shut behind it. The sirens start again, louder this time, and you flinch as the vehicle speeds away into the night.

“What if this is it?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Giselle shakes her head. “Don’t think like that.”

But you can’t help it. Your mind spirals, filling in blanks with the worst possible scenarios. Did he crash his car? Was it an attack? Did that woman—

You double over, clutching your stomach as the weight of it all hits you. “I should’ve stopped him,” you sob. “I should’ve done something.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jihoon says firmly, though his own voice shakes. “Whatever happened, it’s not your fault.”

A police officer approaches, his face grim. “Are you Y/N?”

You nod, wiping at your tear-streaked face. “Yes. Is he—what happened? Is he okay?”

The officer hesitates, his eyes flickering to your friends before settling back on you. “We’re still piecing everything together, but… it doesn’t look like an accident.”

Your blood turns cold. “What do you mean?”

“We’ll need your statement,” the officer continues. “But for now, all I can say is… this was deliberate.”

The word hits you like a slap, leaving you breathless.

Deliberate.

“Do you know who might have done this?” the officer asks, pulling out a small notepad.

You open your mouth to respond, but no words come out. Because the truth is, you don’t know. You don’t know who she is. You don’t know why Haechan was with her. And you don’t know why this happened.

As the officer steps away, your gaze shifts to the darkened street where it all began. The ambulance is gone, the chaos fading as the night swallows the scene whole.

And as your friends hold you in comfort, you can only wonder. How did everything go wrong?

part 2 maybe 😛😛 ?????

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania @spacejip @peterm4rker @viasdreams @mango-bear

[nuggets-small-corner]

Camp Counselor Choso who only got this job because his little brother wanted to go to this summer camp and Choso was too old to sign up. However, he wasn’t about to leave his little brother in the wilderness all alone, so he became a camp counselor. 

Camp Counselor Choso who got a chance to meet the nurse during the main tour and he was shocked to see such a pretty little thing like yourself in the middle of nowhere. The way you had on a red crop top with a pair of short blue jeans that hugged your thighs in a way that made his mouth salivate. 

Camp Counselor Choso who listens to you apologizes for your appearance and how you had to restock everything from the camp session and it gets hot. You even gave the sad news that you would dress more professionally once the kids were around.

Camp Counselor Choso tries his hardest to engrain the image of you reaching above to get a bottle of something and how all your plump flesh looks spreading out. 

Camp Counselor Choso who does actually manage to pay attention as you describe the different harms that are common at a summer camp and how to handle it. You also made sure to state that everyone should know how to get to the nurse station from whatever location they are at. 

Camp Counselor Choso who stiffened up when you looked over at him and he swore you stared into his eyes for 6 years while you talked, but it was actually 30 seconds. Once you stop going over the different ways to help a child appropriately to not cross any boundaries, but also being efficient, you point to him to give you a demonstration. 

You laid on the ground and complained about how your knee hurt and you think you twisted it. You looked up at him with a pout and your long eyelashes fluttering towards him. Camp Counselor Choso who realized at that exact moment that you had him wrapped around your finger without trying. 

Camp Counselor Choso who reaches down and puts one arm underneath your knee and the other behind your back before effortlessly picking you up. You didn’t seem to expect that as a cute little squeal came from your mouth. Choso was delighted to feel your arms wrap around his neck and your nails accidentally scratch him. He could feel the blush coming up neck at the sensation. 

Camp Counselor Choso is confused on why you start laughing at him. You simply explained that “while you are strong, extremely strong”, he didn’t miss the way your eyes looked up and down his arm muscle, “if a kid complains about their knee hurting, picking them up like this can put pressure on it.”

Camp Counselor Choso slowly puts you down as you try to explain to him how to properly handle the situation. Your solution was so much better. You grabbed his arm and put it around your waist. The warmth from your exposed skin felt amazingly under his finger tips. You leaned into him and lifted your other knee in front of you. 

Camp Counselor Choso got the gist of the training quite quickly, especially when you used him 3 other times to demonstrate something. He loved the feeling of your hands on him or you asking him to put his hands on you. 

Camp Counselor Choso who is sad that he didn’t see you for the next few days, only until the last two days did you show up. You appeared in the main cabin in the middle of a presentation. Your eyes looked around and Choso’s entire head was turned around to look at you. He felt like a dog who was finally getting to see his favorite toy again. 

Your eyes landed on Choso and a smile instantly came onto your face. You quickly walked over and sat down next to him. “There goes my favorite helper,” you whispered. Choso could only stare in excitement at the fact that you choose to sit next to him. “Did you miss me?”

Yes,yes,yes,yes,yes,yes.

Camp Counselor Choso decided to respond with a small quiet laugh as he nodded. He wished he could say that every day he came to the main cabin and looked for you. He couldn’t say how after the full first day of you not coming in, he asked the trainers if you would no longer be participating. A member had explained to him that you had to review the medical history of the kids coming in and was going to be busy for most of it. He couldn’t explain how three days without you here made everything seem so dull. 

“I missed you too. It’s rare to see an alternative person out here in these woods. We typically get preppy people or weirdos,” you mumbled, leaning into his shoulder to talk. He could feel his brain short circuiting at the feeling of your soft body pressing against his. He couldn’t help taking a deeper breath and you smelled just as good as he remembered. He hopes your scent rubs off on his shirt so he can continue to smell you.

Camp Counselor Choso who realizes that he may be one of the weirdos.

Camp Counselor Choso and you become almost inseparable the rest of the training. During the third tour of the different places, you guys walked side by side as you told him about the different medicals you got from different spots. When lunch came, you took him to the lake to tell him about the best places to take the kids to see the most fishes. Then for the last day, you actually gave him a hug and told him you’ll definitely be seeing him soon. 

Camp Counselor Choso who is confused why someone is knocking at his cabin door so late at night. He ignored his bunkmates who told him to ignore it, but something in his gut told him to answer. He opened the door to see you standing there in an oversized shirt that fell off your shoulder and a pair of night pants. 

Camp Counselor Choso doesn’t even get to question you as you put a finger to his lips to shush him and reach for his hand. He lets you drag him away from the cabin into the woods. It was only 3 minutes into the silent walk that Choso realized that he didn’t know where he’s going and that all it took to get him into the woods alone was a pretty person grabbing his hand. 

You stopped moving once you reached a clearing that had a small pond in the center. “I thought you would like this, Choso.” He couldn’t believe his eyes as the field seemed to be alive as fireflies danced all around in the grass. The pond reflected the moonlight giving everything a serenity vibe. 

“It’s… wow,” is all Camp Counselor Choso manages to get out of his mouth. He looked back at you to see that you were already staring at him. The pale moonlight made you look heavenly. A small smile came to your lips as you silently clapped, seemingly pleased that he liked it. 

“Would you think I’m a weirdo if I wanted to kiss you right now?” 

You stopped moving as you looked up at him. He watched as you took a step towards him until only a breath of air stood between you. “Would I be a weirdo if I wanted you to?”

Camp Counselor Choso who didn’t waste another moment. His hand reached towards your face to gently hold your face as he leaned in towards you. He gave the smallest peck, almost as if hesitant. You let out a pleased hum and that was the greenlight. His lips pressed firmly against yours as if trying to mold himself into you. 

Camp Counselor Choso who couldn’t get enough of you. You broke away to gasp for air, but he still needed you. His lisp trailed down your face until he settled on your neck. A groan left his lip as your scent flooded his mind and clouded everything. He used his hand to lean your neck further to the side to give himself more access. The groan that left your lip would be playing in his mind forever. 

Camp Counselor Choso who realized that he was thoroughly wrapped around your finger, especially when you make the sweetest sounds under his hand. 

Camp Counselor Choso who the next day is staring down at his little brother, tired beyond belief from the lack of sleep. He felt bad that he completely forgot the main reason he joined this camp. Although, looking over to see the nurse meeting parents with a turtleneck and a limp made him see a very good second reason to keep coming back. 

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Gentle on My Mind - Chapter 9

Initially set in 1967 when Elvis is filming Clambake. Feeling miserable and trapped after the Colonel banishes Larry and the spiritual texts, Elvis invites Gloria to keep him company through the last five days of filming. Gloria is an aspiring movie editor and more importantly she's a lot of fun. Will she be what Elvis needs to get him out of the depressive funk he's in?

Catch up with the other parts here.

Many thanks to @sissylittlefeather being my beta reader on this one.

A/N: We're up to 1972, and just to flag the triggers on this one, still some dark topics being handled here.

Pairing: Elvis x OC - Gloria, a budding film editor.

Word count: 5.2K

TWs: Infidelity, angst, angry!Elvis, panty-sniffing!Elvis, some reference to domestic abuse (Elvis is not involved), reference to Elvis' bad health, dirty talk, phone sex, size kink, 70s views about women, crying, body shame, body worship, drug use.

Elvis thinks of Gloria often, wondering what she’s doing, how she’s feeling. Whether she’s going to turn up without warning to any of his concerts. After what she said about the postcards he resists the temptation to contact her. Jerry had found her address and phone number for him and he’s had to hide them from himself so as to avoid calling her whenever he wants to hear her voice. He runs their conversation through over and over again in his head, looking for clues. There was something off about the way she’d behaved, even accounting for tiredness, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. He frowns and thinks it through one more time, and then pulls her panties out of his pocket. He seems to be carrying them everywhere he goes. 

***

“It’s over, Elvis. I want a divorce.”

Elvis doesn’t think this is the way he should be spending Christmas. Alone, crying in his bedroom. He desperately wants to call Gloria. He digs out the number from the giant pile of papers he’d hidden it in months ago and stares at the digits. It’s the middle of the day. Fuck it. 

“Hello?”

He recognises her voice immediately, and sighs with relief. “Glory.”

Gloria’s entire body goes cold. And then hot. She starts to feel dizzy and sits down. 

“Elvis,” she whispers. “You can’t call me here!”

“Cilla wants a divorce.”

“Roger doesn’t,” she snaps, irritated that he’d call her here with no regard for the consequences. 

Roger had lost interest in her lately. She’s pretty sure he’s fucking the maid, not that she can work out when he’d have the time to do it. She’d struggled to lose any of the weight she’d put on after Jackie, and if anything she’d probably put a little more on since. People kept asking her when she was due. It was embarrassing, but she didn’t seem to be able to do anything about it. The only benefit was that Roger thought it was disgusting, her being so heavy, the bags under her eyes, the spit up on her shoulder. So he didn’t touch her any more. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He had the habit of dragging her around roughly by her arm and occasionally he slapped her when she said something he didn’t like. Just once, he’d pulled her into the kitchen by her hair. But he certainly didn’t touch her intimately anymore.

There’s a dead silence on the end of the line, then the click of Elvis hanging up. Gloria stares at the receiver in shock and then slowly puts it down. She spends the rest of the day torn between relief that Roger can’t walk in on her talking to him, and a desperate need to hear his voice again. 

Elvis grabs the phone and throws it at the wall, shaking with rage. How dare she? How dare she speak to him like that?

***

Elvis spends the next few months trying to put Gloria out of his mind. Once Cilla tells him she’s shacked up with Mike Stone he tries to put all women out of his mind. Goes through a brief period of being convinced that celibacy is the option, reading the bible every day and praying to God that eventually he’ll stop feeling like this. So lost and alone. 

***

Despite the fact that he hung up on her, Gloria wants to see Elvis. She just writes that whole phone call off as a dead loss and pretends it didn’t happen. She plans a trip to Vegas with two of her old friends and her sister, to catch the end of his residency there. Gets Roger on a good day and is surprised when he agrees that she can spend the weekend somewhere other than their house. Her prison. That’s how she’s started thinking of it lately, imagining bars on the windows. 

One day when he’s at work she digs around in the purse she’d taken with her when she went to see Elvis play Cow Palace. Eventually finds what she’s looking for - the little scrap of paper he’d hastily given her when they parted, with a private phone number scrawled there. 

“Hello?”

“Hello, it’s um… it’s Gloria. Is…”

The voice on the other end of the phone interrupts her. “Just wait a minute.”

Her stomach flip-flops as she sits there, tapping her foot on the floor impatiently. She hadn’t been sure he’d want to talk to her, but the way the person who picked up the phone reacted she’s starting to think she was wrong. And then she sits there, and waits for ten minutes. Then another ten minutes. The pretence that had been holding up so well up until this point starts to fall apart. Maybe the phone call did mean something. Maybe she shouldn’t have snapped. Maybe this is some kind of elaborate punishment. Should she put the phone down this time? 

“Glory?” His voice sounds muffled, and like he’s slightly out of breath.

“I thought you were never coming to the phone.”

“Sorry… sorry… baby. I’m sorry about the last time too…” he trails off. His head hurts, his stomach hurts, everything hurts right now. He’d had to drag himself out of bed when Charlie had told him who was on the phone. It had taken far too long, but he’d kept blacking out. 

“Elvis, are you okay?” 

“Hmmm. Mmmm. Belly’s a little sore, Glory.”

“Have you seen a doctor?”

Elvis bursts into a peel of laughter at the question, and it hangs in the air somehow, even though they’re on the phone. All he does is see the doctor. Doctors.

“Yeah. I’ve seen a doctor.” He finally replies. 

“Okay. Um… I was planning on coming to Vegas in the summer… if you wanted to see me…”

“Of course I want to see you, baby. When are you coming? I’ll get one of the boys to pick you up from the airport and bring you here.” 

They discuss the details for a while, and Gloria thinks Elvis is starting to sound a little more like his old self. Then she starts to suggest hotels she might stay in and he cuts her off. 

“Don’t waste your money on a hotel room. Stay with me.” 

“Oh, Elvis. I don’t know… I mean I thought I might spend some time with my friends…”

Elvis grunts in frustration. “So you don’t really want to see me, then?”

Gloria rubs her face with her hand and sighs, exasperated. What is she supposed to say now?

“I want to see you more than anything.”

“Then stay in my suite.”

She groans. “Can you just let me at least have my own hotel room? Even if I don’t stay in it? I just want somewhere to go back to if I need it.”

She’s starting to feel decidedly like there’s two disagreeable men in her life now.

“Fine,” he replies, sullenly. 

There’s a long silence. 

“Mr. Presley…” she drawls, deciding this is how to break it. 

“Hmmm?” 

“You still got those panties?”

She can hear the smile in his voice when he replies. “I sure do. Though they don’t smell as good as they used to.”

Her eyes flick around the room quickly, somehow feeling like she has to check for other people before she does anything this bold. 

“What’ve you been doing with them?”

Elvis swallows, hard. He’d been annoyed just a minute ago, frustrated with her and feeling like no women wanted to spend time with him any more. But suddenly the tone of her voice and those words have transported him back in time to that trailer on the set of Clambake. 

“They help me think about ya when I…” he trails off, awkwardly, feeling his cheeks start to colour. 

“When you what? Stroke that big dick of yours?” 

Her heart is pounding as she says it, she hasn’t said anything like this in so long. She feels a tingling between her legs and moves her hand there, over her panties. 

“Oh,” he says, quietly. “Is that what ya wanna know about?”

“Please,” she breathes, softly. “It’s what I think about when I touch myself. Wishing you were here.”

Her fingers rub circles on her clit as she talks. 

“Is that so?”

“Yes. It’s what I’m doing now.”

Elvis groans quietly, feeling his erection getting uncomfortable, even in his loose pyjamas. 

“It’s what I um… I-I think about ya a lot, Glory.”

Gloria giggles. She can imagine his red face, see his eyes darting around the place, feel his awkwardness. 

“Are you touching yourself?”

“N-n-no.”

“Why not?”

He doesn’t know what to say. He’s never done this before. “Y-y-y-you want me to?” He finally stutters out. 

“Are you hard?”

“Yes,” a strangled whisper.

“Then I want you to.”

He unties his robe and reaches into his pyjama bottoms to free his dick. Slowly pumping it up and down he can’t help but moan. Gloria bites her lip and slips her hand into her panties, sliding her fingers through her arousal and spreading it around her clit. She breathes hard into the receiver. 

“I wish you were here right now,” Elvis mumbles.

“What would you do if I was?”

“Fuck ya senseless, princess.”

It’s Gloria’s turn to moan now, overwhelmed by his words. “I’d love that,” she whispers. 

“Would ya?” He starts to feel his orgasm growing inside him, confidence building with it. “Is that what you want? To be fucked with this big dick?”

She whimpers. “Please, Daddy. Fill me up.”

He grunts as his hand moves faster and faster, making his words come out in a series of pants. “I’ll… fuck ya… stupid…”

“Please…” she begs again, her fingers moving more and more quickly on her clit, racing towards her orgasm. She starts babbling. “I can’t wait to see you. I want to be with you all the time. I don’t have to get a hotel room. I just want you… ohhhh.”

Hearing her climax, he only has to stroke himself one or two more times before he joins her. His moans sending shivers down her spine too. 

“Shit,” he mutters, looking at the mess he’s just made. 

Gloria giggles. “Did you enjoy that?” 

He can’t help sniggering back. “Maybe a little too much.”

She bites her lip, trying to picture him. Enjoying the mental image. Then she thinks back to what she said when she was just about to come.

“I meant it. I’ll stay with you in your suite. I don’t need a room.” She feels desperate for him now, wanting him to hold her now she’s done.

“No, honey. I’ll pay for a room for ya. Then you can decide how much time ya wanna spend in it. I shouldna snapped before. My belly’s been hurtin’ and… it’s been a rough few months. I’ve missed ya.”

“I’ve missed you too. Still miss you now. Wish you were here, holding me,” she sniffs, somehow unable to keep any of her feelings in. 

“I wish I was too, honey. I’ll see ya in September. Ya need me, call.”

***

“Listen. It’s none of my business what’s going on with you and Roger, or what you’ve done with Elvis,” Patricia begins, as they drive to the airport together. “I just want to know if we’ll see you at all on this vacation.”

Gloria smiles. She’s grateful that her sister is about as interested in what’s going on with her as she is in figuring out other people’s motives. She’d barely said a thing after the Cow Palace concert, only checking if Gloria was alright and making sure they had a story for Roger as to why they were back so late. 

“I don’t know, Pat. I want to spend time with the girls but Elvis wants to spend time with me too.”

“Do you want to spend time with him?” Patricia asks, gently. 

Gloria nods quickly. “Of course. It’s not every day I get to see him, is it?” Or even every year, she thinks. 

“It’s not every day you get to see Sandra and Carol either.”

“Well they never come and see me, it’s not like they live far.”

“You never go and see them.” 

Gloria sighs deeply. This is far more intrusion than she’s used to from her sister. 

“Roger doesn’t like it.”

“Doesn’t like what?” 

“Me seeing them. So I don’t. It’s just easier that way.”

Patricia frowns, but she doesn’t push it any further. She supposes Roger has a right to decide what his wife does, to a certain extent. Not that her husband was like that at all. But she never did anything he disagreed with, and Gloria could be quite a tearaway. Or certainly had been in the past. Roger probably thought she needed a little discipline. 

***

Gloria is overwhelmed with joy to see her friends again. They drink cocktails on the plane and laugh and talk about old times. Then they talk about Elvis a little. They both know something has happened from the look on Gloria’s face when they say his name, so they question her about it in hushed tones. Neither of them are entirely convinced, though, until they see the limousine pull up for them outside of the airport. Elvis has spared no expense, there are bottles of champagne inside and he’s left instructions with the driver to take them to all the most exclusive boutiques, telling them to charge his account with whatever they want. Gloria finds he’s left her something else too - a beautiful glittering evening dress at the first store they pull up to. 

She takes it to the fitting room to try on and almost cries. It’s far too small. This is for a pre-pregnancy Gloria. A Gloria who delighted in running about in the skimpiest of clothes, who loved being naked whenever she could. She sniffs. She supposes Elvis didn’t really notice the additional weight too much, when she saw him last. She’d tried to dress cleverly to disguise it and he’d been very occupied teasing her. Besides, she wasn’t at her heaviest then anyway. She’d really started eating junk that Christmas and not stopped since. 

She wipes her face and tries to put on a smile for the shop assistant. 

“I’m… I’m really sorry but it’s too small…” her voice comes out more quietly than she expects, but she’s just greeted with a broad smile. 

“Oh don’t worry, you can exchange it for a bigger size,” the assistant tells her, leading her over to the rack. 

The dress she pulls on is two sizes bigger than the one he’d picked, but it does look good. It’s just about sparkly enough to distract from her extra weight, and luckily it’s not skin tight. She walks out to show Carol and Sandra, and they gasp when they turn around and see her in it. They were a little shocked at how she looked when they first saw her after so long, and tried their best not to say anything. Having two small kids is tough, lord knows they’d both struggled. But the dress was such a contrast. She’d pulled her hair out of her usual messy bun and it tumbled over her shoulders like strands of gold. The combination of that and the dazzling sequins made her look like a movie star. 

“Oh my God! You look incredible! He is going to fall at your feet in that, Gloria.”

Gloria can’t help grinning in response. “Oh, thanks! He’s got such good taste,” she replies, twirling around and looking at her reflection in the long mirror. 

“He certainly does.”

The limo driver explains that Elvis has more plans for them, and takes them to get their nails and their makeup done and their hair styled, and then finally to their hotel. He waits outside for them to check in, get changed and leave their bags, and then drives them to the Hilton. 

Gloria doesn’t think she’s ever been this dolled up in her life, and she loves it. They’re ushered to Elvis’ private box just in time for the music to start and the curtain to come up. She watches him walk on stage with her heart in her mouth. He looks just as gorgeous as ever, although a little different from the last time she saw him. He’s in a beautiful powder blue suit and it sparkles in the light. She can’t help but feel that he picked her outfit to match him, and imagines them standing side by side. As he starts to sing and move about onstage her daydream develops. Suddenly this is her wedding dress and her and Elvis are taking their vows, dressed like this. And then they welcome people into their house afterwards, into Graceland, her arm in his, both of them glittering like the sun. 

***

Elvis is eagerly introducing Gloria to everyone in the suite. She can’t believe how much space he has, there’s a lounge with a piano and several bedrooms, as well as at least one enormous bathroom with a jacuzzi bath. But all the space is filled with people. She enjoys it at first, and then rapidly starts to get tired. She used to be such an extravert but after so long with only her kids for company she’s forgotten how to talk to people. And it’s so late. They only arrived in time for the midnight show and it’s already 3am. She’s used to an early bedtime, and she keeps having to cover up her yawns. Elvis can’t take his eyes off her though. He keeps her at his side the whole time, showing her off to anyone who’ll listen. 

Gloria leans her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes. I’ll just rest them for a second, she thinks. Elvis goes to get up to get involved in yet another round of singing around the piano, but as he does he realises the weight on his shoulder is strangely heavy. He looks down at her, eyes closed, peacefully sleeping against him. Oh Glory, he thinks, wondering if he can pick her up and move her without her waking. Then she stirs and her eyes open slowly. 

“Oh… sorry…” she mumbles, rubbing her eyes and smudging her make-up a little.

“Shhh. Why dontcha go to my bedroom? I’ll get rid of everyone else.”

She nods and gets up slowly, kicking her shoes off and then padding over to the main bedroom. He smiles as he watches her go. Her ass looks damn good in that dress. 

Gloria makes a cursory attempt at washing her makeup off and then strips, looking around for something to wear in bed. Unable to see anything straight away she gets in naked, thinking she’ll figure it out in the morning. There’s no way she can stay awake long enough to do anything with Elvis tonight, maybe by tomorrow she’ll find a nightie or something she can wear to cover herself up a little. 

It takes Elvis a while to chat to everyone as they leave, he hadn’t wanted to just chuck them out unceremoniously, but he starts to regret that as soon as he walks into the bedroom and sees Gloria in bed, fast asleep. 

He gets changed into pyjamas and slips into the bed beside her, swallowing down his pills. Stroking her hair gently, he thinks how glad he is that she’s here, slipping off to a dreamless sleep almost immediately. 

***

Gloria wakes at 7am as usual, sees the time and immediately closes her eyes again. Not. Enough. Sleep. She tosses and turns for a bit and then finally manages a couple more hours. When she wakes again she knows there’s no point in trying to sleep any more. Groaning, she turns over and looks at Elvis. He’s fast asleep and shows no signs of waking any time soon. She gets up and rummages about in his drawers, finding some pyjamas and putting them on, rolling up the legs and arms since they’re far too long for her. Since he’s still dead to the world, she makes her way out of the room in search of coffee. 

It’s quiet in the suite too, but she finds the kitchen and in it is a tall handsome-looking man with longish dark hair. 

“Hi,” he says, warmly, holding out a hand. “I’m Jerry.”

“Hi. Gloria.” She pauses, looking around. “Any coffee?”

He nods, picking up the jug on the hotplate and pouring her a cup. “Cream and sugar?”

She shakes her head. “Black is fine.” She doesn’t usually take her coffee black, but suddenly she’s thinking she should’ve spent less time over the months leading up to this having so much cream and sugar. 

“Elvis ok?” He asks. 

She frowns a little. “He’s still asleep.”

Jerry shuffles awkwardly from foot to foot for a moment and then decides he should just tell her. 

“Usually someone keeps an eye on him.”

“Well, presumably not since his wife left him. Or do you guys go in there? Is that one of your little jobs?”

Jerry snorts. “No. But I mean… usually there’s someone with him.”

Gloria takes a sip of coffee and winces at the bitterness. Then she realises what he means. 

“Oh, you mean some other girl.”

He nods and grimaces a little. “Sorry…”

“No need to apologise. It’s not you. Besides, I’ve got no claim on the man. Haven’t seen him in just about two years,” she shrugs. “And I have a husband. So I’m in no position to judge.”

She doesn’t say it, but it does sting a little. Knowing he’s had other women, even if they were just one night stands. 

Jerry looks at her and smiles. “He’s sweet on you though. I haven’t seen him like this for anyone else.”

Gloria raises both eyebrows. “Oh, really?”

His smile broadens. There’s something lovely about watching her face light up when he says it. As if she hasn’t had a compliment in a while. 

“Had us running around like mad men trying to get everything ready for you. The way he talks about you, I think it’s you he should’ve…” he pulls himself up short, realising what he’s about to say. “I-I mean… it’s none of my business but… well he was virtually a recluse at the start of the year, but he told us all that if you called we had to tell him. You’re the only girl he wanted to speak to.”

Gloria pauses for a moment to take all this in. “It took him 20 minutes to get to the phone,” she says quietly, at last.

“Probably the effects of the pills. Or…” he trails off again. “I shouldn’t be telling you this stuff, he wouldn’t like it.”

Gloria smiles again. “It’s okay. You think I should go back in there though? To watch him?”

Jerry nods. “Check he’s still breathing, hasn’t choked on…” he trails off again. Something about Gloria makes him want to tell her everything, but he knows Elvis would be pissed if he knew. 

Gloria guesses what he was about to say. She just nods. “I’m a mom. I can look after people.”

They look at one another for a moment and then both smile. Gloria had always doubted the integrity of the guys around Elvis, doubted their utility as well really, but she likes Jerry. He seems genuine. 

“You want breakfast? I can order you something from room service and bring it in, if you’re not going to go back to sleep.”

“Oh, that would be great. Just some poached eggs on toast please. I should be watching my figure.” She rolls her eyes. 

“Sure, I’ll knock when they’re here.”

Gloria thanks him and as she walks away Jerry thinks she’s not the only one watching her figure right now. Then he shakes his head quickly. It doesn’t do any use to start lusting after Elvis’ girls. That only leads to bad things. 

***

Gloria spends the next few hours drinking coffee and watching Elvis sleep. At some point Jerry brings her the eggs and she eats them sitting on the bed too, somehow completely captivated by the man lying next to her. He’s not even doing anything, she thinks. How can I just be sitting here, watching him, when he’s not even doing anything? She wonders about the snippets of information she got from Jerry, and then resolves not to ask Elvis about them. She only has this weekend with him, and then God only knows when she’ll see him again. She doesn’t want to waste precious time talking about things neither of them will enjoy. Not unless he brings it up. 

Eventually he wakes up, groggily, and his squinting eyes finally see her in the semi-darkness. She hasn’t even really wondered about the blacked-out windows, but they do make it pretty dark even though it’s past midday. 

“Glory,” he whispers. “What time is it, baby?”

“Time you woke up,” she teases, reaching down to stroke his cheek. “I’ve been all lonely here without you.”

He lets out a snort and then slowly tries to make his way to a seated position. His hair is sticking up everywhere and Gloria can’t help laughing. She tries to smooth it down. 

“Big boy, your hair is out of control.”

His face lights up at the pet name and he splays his legs out, patting his lap for her to get on. She frowns a little. 

“C’mon baby. What’sa matter? Thought ya were lonely without me?”

“I um… I’ve put on a little weight, Elvis. I don’t wanna crush you.”

He pulls a face. “You? Crush me? Don’t be silly.” Without warning he leans forward and grabs her by the hips, manhandling her into his lap. She is a little heavier than he remembered but she’s still easy enough for him to move around. 

Resting her forearms on his shoulders she looks at him almost shyly. “I guess you’re pretty strong.”

His hands pull her against him, splaying over her back and making her almost feel small again. “Strong as an ox, Glory. And you’re looking good.” One of his hands moves to her ass and grabs a handful. “This ass in that dress last night…” he whistles. “Hard to keep my hands off it.”

She finds herself giggling and blushing a little. It’s been so long since someone complimented her like this. She’d almost jumped Jerry in the kitchen when he was the tiniest bit kind to her earlier.

“Oh is that so?”

“It is. Made me think how much I can’t wait to have ya from behind…” he chuckles naughtily, raising an eyebrow. 

Gloria can’t help smiling back, but she knows she has to tell him how she feels. 

“I um… I feel a bit self-conscious about my belly though… I should’ve… dieted or something before I came here…” looking around awkwardly. 

Elvis shakes his head, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. “Nothin’ to be self-conscious about baby.”

Gloria grumbles slightly as his hands slide up and down her back reassuringly. 

“Ya mind if I touch it?” He asks, sweetly. 

“Oh, um… I’m not sure…” she protests, weakly. 

“Mmm. C’mere,” kissing her and letting one hand drift under her pyjama top. “I’ll be gentle.”

He keeps kissing her, melting her, his fingers slowly moving under her top. He can feel her tremble as his hand moves over the squidgy flesh of her belly, fingers lingering where she hates to even look. He slowly unbuttons the top and then both of his hands are all over her, feeling her, her breasts, her collarbones, her abdomen. He pulls back to admire her flushed face and her naked body, eyes roaming all over her. She quickly tries to pull her pyjama top back together again, blushing harder, the spell momentarily broken. 

“Nuh-uh,” he tells her, gently picking her up and rolling her onto her back, with him on top. Kissing her lips until he feels her relax again, and then making his way down her throat, between her breasts and over the curve of her belly. Paying particular attention to the flesh there, kissing as he moves it around with his hands. 

Gloria feels drunk on all the kisses and she doesn’t want to fight him anymore. Tears prick her eyes as he carries on with his feather-light kisses, loving on her. 

“Baby, you are so beautiful,” he tells her, looking up at her. “I don’t wanna ever hear you say anything negative about yourself again, y’hear?”

She nods dumbly, swallowing hard and trying not to let the tears out. He moves back up her body, kissing her lips again. 

“What happened to my filthy-mouthed little girl, hm?”

The tears she was trying to hold in suddenly spill out, and she’s crying again. Every time she sees him now, she cries. So much for not wasting the precious time she has with him. 

“I shouldn’t have married him!” She sobs. 

Elvis rolls off her onto his side, pulling her with him and into a tight embrace, shushing her and stroking her hair. 

“What’s he done?” He asks, when he feels her sobbing start to subside. “You need me to hurt him? Glory I’ll kill him if he’s laid a finger on you.”

“N-no,” she stutters, “he hasn’t hurt me. Not like that.” Well, he had. But was that really worth mentioning now?

“What has he done?” Elvis is insistent now, pulling back so that he can see her face. 

“I just… he doesn’t want me anymore. Now I’m done making babies for him, he’s not interested anymore. I’m sure he’s fucking the maid.”

Elvis looks furious. “Fucking someone else when he has you.”

It briefly crosses Gloria’s mind that that’s exactly what Elvis is doing, but she knows better than to mention that right now. She doesn’t want to get Jerry fired. 

“Hmmm.”

“Why don’t you leave him? Come and live with me? Cilla and I… well you know she left me.”

Gloria knows. She remembers the phone call. She remembers seeing it in the papers. She knows that’s why she’s here, on some level. But it’s not as simple as all that. This is Elvis Presley. 

“My kids, Elvis. I can’t just… up and move them. And he’ll fight me for custody, I know he will. How will it look, me fucking a rockstar? I hardly seem like mom of the year right now…”

Elvis huffs. “But you’re mine. You should be mine. You should be here, with me.”

Gloria frowns a little. “I am here with you, big boy. I wish I could be with you all the time, but it’s not just me I have to consider…”

“Your kids would love it in Memphis. They’d have little Yisa to play with too.”

She sighs a little. “Yeah, I’m sure they would. But I have to get a divorce soon, and you know how long that might take…”

He snorts with annoyance. “Damn divorce. Damn money. Damn woman.”

Gloria frowns again, feeling like he’s not making the most sense right now. Then she thinks of something. 

“You want breakfast?”

He suddenly snaps back into the room, after angrily staring into space thinking about his divorce. 

“Shit. Yes. I’m starving.”

She smiles. Maybe that was it. Maybe he’s just hungry. That’s what she’ll tell herself.

***

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[vampirejohn]

And if I want snippets from all 3 WIPs?????

spike ily quite literally anything for you

and i still call home is the big bang sized preseries deanjohn fic nobody asked for. dean gets john to let him and sam stay in town while sam finishes school (and dean gets to play housewife!!). he doesn't exactly mention it's so sam can go to college, which ofc ends well (i'm lying 😈)

He rolled on his side and spread a nervous hand over John’s waist, and then moved down to feel the hard, thick length of him through his jeans. He had to bite back a groan, his own cock twitching valiantly at the thought of getting to see it, really see it, not just in casual passing the way you did when you lived with someone your whole life. But then John took his wrist, pushed him off. “It’s okay,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m good like this.” “But—” Bemused, Dean shifted sort of awkwardly. “It just… doesn’t seem all that fair to you.” John’s eyes narrowed, the line of his mouth going flat and mean. “Why don’t you let me worry about what’s fair to me?” Dean rolled onto his back again so he didn’t have to look at him, hot behind his ears. Maybe this was new for John—and that was admirable, really—but Dean didn’t remember a time when it wasn’t like this for him. The wanting was born somewhere between tucking him in and holding his hands steady around pistols and pool cues and watch out for Sammy, between dental floss stitches in motel bathrooms and it was never supposed to be like this and it’s okay, Dad and you really want to talk about Sam right now? Dean had been capable of this during all of it.

deanjohn dv screening ✨

“You know we’ve been here a couple of hours already, right? Costs an arm and a leg to park here, too.” “There’s a bit of a wait for the X-ray machine, unfortunately. We’re a smaller hospital.” The nurse was still pulling and turning Dean’s wrist, like there was some threshold of pain she had to put him in before she was allowed to give him some goddamned painkillers. “I promise we’ll get him in as soon as we can.” She raised her eyes to Dean’s for a moment, and he took the opportunity to give her an apologetic smile, the one reserved for civilians caught up in John’s wrath. She didn’t return it, mouth turning down into a frown for just a split second. Finally, she let Dean go, turning her attention on John. “Sir, would you mind stepping out for just one second? There’s a few more diagnostics we’d like to run on Dean.” John’s eyes narrowed infinitesimally, only noticeable if you knew to look for it. “I’m good here,” he said, planting his feet more firmly. Dean rolled his eyes. “It’s fine. Do whatever you have to do.” She studied Dean for a moment, and then nodded decisively. “Alright. Give me a few moments.” She wasn’t out of the room two seconds before John said, “The hell was that about?” Dean was busy trying to find a comfortable position to lay his wrist in his lap. “They think you’re beating me,” he snapped. He watched John’s face turn to stone. “And why the hell would they think that?” “Because you’re being an asshole.” Dean stopped to hiss as a twinge of shocky pain shot up his arm. “Look. If they try to get me alone again, just play along, alright? So we can get off their radar.”

deanjohn abo au is my s1 au deanjohn/samdean double feature, where sam figures out that dean let john claim him and goes absolutely bonkers over it

“You’re fucking deranged. You think you're defending my honor or something? Because I got news for you—ever since you found out, you’ve been stomping around, whining like a jealous bitch. Spineless too, like pretending this is about Dad makes it okay. There something you want from me, Sam? Speak up.” Sam didn’t, only pressed his arm harder across Dean’s throat when he tried to move again. Dean’s mouth curled into a nasty grin. “It’s driving you crazy, isn’t it? Thinking about him on top of me. His knot inside me. D’you think about me begging for it? ‘Cause I do, Sammy, I beg him to shove it so deep I can’t fucking breathe, to put me on my knees and fucking knock me up. Just curious—would you prefer a little brother or a sister?” “You don’t have to convince me you’re a fucking whore, Dean.” The last thing Dean remembered before the world tilted and went black was rearing back and spitting in Sam’s face.

[mischiefinbloom]

hi! happy new year! i was wondering if you do requests that are pure angst? i have an idea abt a regulus x f!reader x sirius.

wherein sirius and reader are ex lovers. after the war ended they see each other again for the first time. but reader is married to regulus. then everything from there just goes down, sirius insinuating hurtful things and regulus finally stands up to him after years of resentment.

happy new year, my love! i’m so sorry for the delay in replying to your request, but i’ve finally finished it! i really hope you like it!

୧ ‧₊˚ unraveled hearts

₊⊹ summary: amidst the ruins of war and broken bonds, love weaves its bittersweet, inevitable tale.

₊⊹ pairing: regulus black x fem!slytherin!reader x sirius black

₊⊹ warnings: strong language, angst, emotional distress, family conflict, and sirius being a dick.

the autumn sun filtered through the windows of the great hall at hogwarts, painting the stone floor with golden and orange hues. sirius black was sitting at the gryffindor table, laughing loudly at something james potter had said. he was an impossible figure to ignore. his laugh had a magnetic quality, something that made heads turn in his direction, even unintentionally. the spark in his eyes and the charming nonchalance in his smile always seemed to attract attention — and he knew it.

but that day, his eyes caught something different. a movement at the slytherin table.

you were there, as always, with a book open in front of you and the elegant posture of someone who knew the impact they had when entering a room. to sirius, there was something about you that was as fascinating as it was frustrating. he knew your type: intelligent, relentless, full of secrets. and yet, he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

it wasn’t just your appearance; it was the way you seemed to navigate the world, as if it spun at your will. your friends seemed to orbit around you, and among them, regulus black. the brother sirius despised so much.

deep down, he knew staring at you was a mistake. not only because you were a slytherin — and that would be enough for james to mock him for weeks — but because you were inaccessible in a way he couldn’t explain. still, he couldn’t stop himself.

in the following months, sirius found excuses to get closer. in the hallways, in shared classes, even in moments when you were alone in the library, lost in your thoughts. he started with jokes, sarcastic comments about the professors or remarks about other students, but over time, the conversations began to gain depth. he saw a side of you few knew: a voracious curiosity, a sharp sense of humor, a passion for justice that didn’t fit with the stereotype of your house.

and you saw something in him beyond the reckless rebel everyone seemed to see. when you were together, sirius dropped his mask. he spoke about his house, the weight of the black surname, how he hated everything his family stood for. he spoke about freedom, about a future far from all of that. and, for a time, you believed he could be different.

the romance between you grew in silence, hidden in the shadows of hogwarts. they were stolen moments — a touch of hands while passing through the hallways, glances that said more than words ever could. there were nights when you met in empty towers or in the dark gardens, where the distance between you was broken by eager kisses, as if time could slip away at any moment.

but time was not on your side.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

everything began to fall apart in the spring of sixth year. sirius always had a knack for trouble, and his pride was both a weapon and a weakness. he hated showing vulnerability, and though you were the only one he opened up to, there were moments when he withdrew, putting an invisible barrier between you.

that night, after a verbal duel with his mother that echoed in his mind like a poorly cast spell, sirius found you in the gryffindor common room. but he was different, his dark eyes filled with something you couldn’t name.

“why do you keep pretending this will work?” he suddenly shot, his voice heavy with frustration.

you blinked, confused, feeling the pain in his words like a sharp knife. “what do you mean by that?”

“this, us. do you think we can keep going like this? like it’s simple? like it’s easy?”

your anger flared in response. “easy? sirius, this has never been easy. i knew it wouldn’t be easy, but i chose to be with you anyway. and you’re telling me that—”

“that maybe it was a mistake,” he interrupted, his voice low and filled with something dangerous.

those words were the last thing you expected to hear. something inside you broke at that moment, and you stood up, refusing to let him see the tears that threatened to fall.

“you’re a coward, sirius black,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “you say you want to be different, but all you do is run away. what are you so fucking afraid of?”

he didn’t answer. he couldn’t.

in the days that followed, you both drifted apart like two colliding stars, leaving behind wreckage and silence. sirius drowned in his pain in a destructive way, throwing himself into parties, provoking fights, doing everything to ignore the emptiness you had left.

and then, you found comfort where you least expected it: in regulus.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

regulus black was everything sirius black was not. while sirius was impulsive, regulus was calculated. while sirius burned with an intensity that could consume everything around him, regulus was a steady flame, offering warmth where there had once been only cold. you began talking by chance. he noticed your sadness, and somehow, his words — always so careful and precise — were exactly what you needed to hear. he didn’t try to be the hero. he didn’t try to fix you. he was just there, listening, understanding, offering what sirius had never been able to offer: stability.

love, they say, is a silent seed. sometimes, it is planted without warning, without any expectation, just rooting itself in the shadows of forgotten moments. for regulus black and you, this love didn’t reveal itself in a grand way, like a beam of light or a thunderous roar that lights up the sky. no. the love that bloomed between you was like a shy flame, igniting patiently, slowly, as if time itself had to bend to allow it to happen. it was a flame fueled by the quiet of shadows, something that grew as silently as a rare flower rising in complete darkness.

regulus always had something mysterious in his nature. he wasn’t like sirius, who made his presence known wherever he went, whose laughter and words filled spaces like fireworks. no, regulus was different. he was the calm at the center of the storm, the silent enigma that appeared when no one expected it. he didn’t rush, didn’t seek the focus of others’ gazes. his life unfolded like a book no one dared open, but when leafed through, revealed profound content and an unshakable quietness. he possessed the serenity of a calm night, the kind that envelops you slowly, without haste, without omen, making you realize that the world can be, for a moment, perfect. he was the type of person who would never force anyone to see what he was, but at the same time, attracted others to him with an invisible force, like the moon that lights up the darkness without making a sound.

when chaos began to take over the world around you, when the winds of war started to blow harder and closer, you, lost in your own inner battles, found something in regulus you never imagined you needed. he never offered sweet words or empty promises. but his presence had an unexpected effect on you. it wasn’t that he had answers to all your doubts or that he could ease all your fears. but there was something in his silence, in his calm way of being, that soothed the turbulence you felt. he didn’t need to ask. he didn’t need to understand. regulus knew, without words being spoken, the weight you carried, what was hiding in your heart. he knew, without explanations, how pain, fear, and doubt sometimes take control of the soul, and he knew you needed someone who was simply… quiet. someone who was there without rushing to change what couldn’t be changed, but who was willing to be, silently, a support.

and you, without realizing it, sought him out. not because he had the perfect words or a solution to the problems that accumulated in your mind, but because he possessed something you never knew you needed: the strength of silence. regulus knew how to live with the shadows, with the questions that never found answers, with the fears that no one could ever dissipate. it was the way he accepted his own darkness that gave him the strength to be a constant presence, a rock for those who needed something solid, someone for whom the world didn’t matter because what mattered was what was right there, beside him, in that moment.

in those days of uncertainty, when the world seemed to be falling apart around everyone, he became your refuge. and, although you didn’t know it yet, he also needed you. regulus didn’t need protection, nor advice. but he needed something you offered without knowing: your peaceful presence. it was as if the world around disappeared when you were together. time seemed to stretch, as if the universe knew that both of you needed that moment, that pause, that fragment of eternity where nothing else mattered.

the words exchanged were few. they weren’t necessary. the touch of your hands, the deep gaze exchanged, spoke more than any words could convey. instead of seeking answers, you allowed yourselves just to be, in a silence that seemed deeper than any speech. as if, in that moment, you were sharing a secret that didn’t need to be said.

what grew between the two of you wasn’t a wild passion, nor impetuous declarations of love. it was something quieter, something that grew slowly, like the tide that, without hurry, invades the sand and never returns to its starting point. it wasn’t fire or fury. it was constancy, it was calm. it was the wisdom of time, that silent understanding that true happiness isn’t found in great victories, but in the simplicity of what is real. and in regulus, you found that place. not a place of empty promises, but a place of acceptance, where he offered, without asking for anything in return, a peace you never knew you needed. regulus was never someone of grand words or theatrical gestures. he simply existed, and his existence offered the tranquility you sought.

and when he finally asked you to marry him, there was no surprise. there was no rush, no applause. just a silent acceptance, as if everything that had happened until then had been inevitable. as if everything was already in the right place, at the right time. you felt your heart warm in a way you couldn’t describe. it wasn’t words that needed to be said, nor exaggerated gestures. it was just a quiet smile, a confident look. because, more than promises of a perfect future, regulus offered you something more precious: the certainty that, in his company, everything that was needed would be fulfilled, without haste and without regret.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the war did not come like a roaring storm; it crept in, a quiet and insidious tide that seeped into the cracks of your life, staining every corner with its shadow. at first, it was whispers: rumors spoken in hushed tones, warnings of darkness rising. then, it was faces—familiar ones, beloved ones—disappearing into the ether, swallowed whole by a war no one truly believed would touch them.

but it did.

it wrapped its cold fingers around everything, twisting even moments of respite into fragile, fleeting things. it stole away the future you had once dared to imagine, replacing it with something sharp-edged and uncertain. every step forward was laced with the fear of losing yourself—or worse, losing the people you loved most.

regulus had become your tether.

war carved at him, stripping away the vestiges of his once-arrogant youth and forging something unbreakable in its place. he carried himself now with a deliberate, quiet strength. every movement, every glance was purposeful, sharpened by necessity. he was no longer the boy you had known in hogwarts’ shadowed hallways but a man who bore the weight of his choices with a kind of grace that defied the chaos surrounding him.

he had left behind the chains of the black family, the suffocating legacy that had once defined him, and yet, the marks it left were indelible. you saw it in the lines of his jaw when he thought no one was looking, in the way he spoke carefully, as if every word might carry too much or too little meaning.

and yet, he remained. for you. for the future he clung to like a fragile ember in the dark.

sirius, however, was fire itself.

where regulus was methodical, sirius burned recklessly. he fought like a man trying to outrun his own shadows, pouring himself into the fight with a fervor that bordered on desperation. his anger was a weapon, a shield, and a mask all at once.

it was strange, seeing him again after so many years of silence and distance. he was still sirius—breathtaking in his defiance, his charm as sharp as ever—but the war had marked him too. his eyes held a hollowness that hadn’t been there before, a quiet kind of grief that spoke of battles fought and losses endured.

he did not speak to you. not directly, at least. he let his gaze linger too long when he thought you wouldn’t notice, his expression caught somewhere between anger and something softer, something more fragile. you caught him watching you in those fleeting moments of stillness between battles, his eyes dark with unspoken questions.

the silence between you was heavier than any argument could have been.

the war raged on, relentless. every safe house, every abandoned village became another temporary haven in a world consumed by chaos. each battle brought new wounds, new scars, and the unspoken truth that none of you could outrun forever: the end was coming, one way or another.

it was during one such night, when the war felt impossibly close, that regulus turned to you.

the safe house was quiet, the air heavy with exhaustion and the faint smell of damp wood. the others were scattered—some sleeping, some keeping watch—but the two of you had stolen this small fragment of peace for yourselves.

regulus sat across from you, his face lit only by the flickering light of the dying fire. shadows played along the sharp lines of his cheekbones, his expression unreadable as he stared into the embers.

“you know,” he said, his voice breaking the silence, “i used to think the war was something distant. something that couldn’t touch us… not really.”

you didn’t respond immediately, sensing there was more he needed to say.

“i thought…” his voice faltered, but he pressed on. “shit, i thought i could keep you safe from it. that if i fought hard enough, if i made the right choices, it wouldn’t find its way to you.”

“reg…” you began, reaching for his hand, but he shook his head.

“it has, though. it’s here, and it’s fucking cruel, and i—” his voice cracked, and he exhaled sharply, as though trying to push the words away. “i can’t promise i’ll always be able to protect you.”

you squeezed his hand, grounding him as much as yourself. “we’ll protect each other,” you said softly, your voice steady even as your heart ached.

he looked at you then, his gray eyes filled with a vulnerability he rarely let show. “if we survive this,” he said, his words measured and deliberate, “promise me something.”

your breath caught, and you nodded slowly, not trusting yourself to speak.

“promise me that when this is over—when we’ve fought through this, no matter how broken we might be—you’ll be my wife.”

the room seemed to still, the weight of his words pressing against your chest.

“i know it’s not the right time,” he continued, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “i know i should wait until this war is over, until i can give you something more than a promise made in the shadows. but i can’t. i need to know that—”

you cut him off, your voice firm despite the tears threatening to spill. “yes,” you said, the word escaping before you could think twice. “yes, i promise.”

his relief was palpable, a quiet exhale that seemed to release years’ worth of tension. reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a simple silver ring. it was unadorned, its surface slightly worn, but to you, it was perfect.

“i wanted it to be more,” he admitted, sliding the ring onto your finger with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “but this is all i have right now. when this is over—”

you stopped him with a kiss, your hand cupping his face as if to pull him back into the present. when you pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing unsteady but steadying in your presence.

“we’ll make it through this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but laced with conviction. “together.”

and for the first time in what felt like years, regulus smiled. it was a small thing, fleeting, but it softened the hard lines of his face and reminded you of the boy he had once been—the boy you had fallen in love with.

that night, as the fire burned low and the shadows stretched long, you held onto that promise. the war might rage on, tearing at the edges of the world you had built, but you and regulus would fight. for each other. for the future you had promised one another.

and in that moment, the silver ring on your finger felt like a beacon in the dark, a reminder that even in the depths of war, hope could still burn bright.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

sirius black could not understand why he had returned. perhaps it was a desperate attempt to recover something that had been lost in the tangled threads of time—something tangible, something that might restore a sense of control over the life that seemed to slip further from his grasp. the war was over. the chaos of battles, the deafening explosions, and the shrill screams had all passed. yet, the internal war—one that raged within him, fighting against his own ghosts—remained relentless, a storm that had no end. he felt the weight of invisible scars, the heavy burden of flawed choices, unspoken words, broken loves, and burned bridges.

grimmauld place, the house he had once rejected, had now become the sole tether to his past. to a history he had tried so desperately to erase, but which still consumed him, no matter how much he wished to escape it. even after the war had ended, something deep within called him back to that place. what else could he do but return? what else was left to him but this house, a monument to his failures, to his origins, to his family? what was he truly seeking there? an answer? consolation? or, perhaps, something far simpler: a way to live with the weight of what he had lost, to understand how he had arrived at this point.

sirius did not know what he expected as he crossed the threshold into grimmauld place, but something urged him to revisit the shadows of that place. he had been estranged from his own history for too long, and perhaps it was time to reconnect with it, to confront his mistakes, no matter how unbearable that might be. in those solitary days of silence, he began to wonder whether there was still something there that could make sense of it all. something that might redeem him in his own eyes. something that could make him feel less guilty, less empty.

the corridors of grimmauld place were silent, and sirius could almost feel the weight of every portrait, every tapestry, as though they were silent witnesses to a time he could no longer grasp. each step he took echoed in the emptiness like a heartbeat in the void, a reminder of a past that could never be undone. he wandered the house aimlessly, like a man searching for a path yet unaware of the destination. he wasn’t there to solve the mysteries of the house; perhaps he was there to solve the mysteries within himself. it was in that state of uncertainty, as he crossed the dimly lit hallway, that something made him stop suddenly.

it was a strange sensation, subtle yet undeniable, as though the very air had thickened, become heavier. compelled by an instinct he couldn’t explain, he followed the pull, not prepared for what he would see. the door to the main room stood slightly ajar, revealing a scene that stopped his breath and froze his thoughts.

you were there. and regulus.

they were so close, so intertwined, that sirius felt like an intruder in his own life. your hands were clasped together, your eyes filled with a tenderness he had never imagined you could give to anyone but him. the scene unfolded before him like a cruel blow, a vivid reminder of everything he had lost. the smile you had once given him, now directed at regulus. the sparkle in your eyes, no longer for him, but for the brother who had always seemed distant, so different, but now appeared to fill the void that sirius had left. regulus stood there, calm and secure, as if he had finally found his place in the world.

and in that moment, time seemed to freeze for sirius. he had not only lost you, but also the chance to be happy by your side. he had destroyed everything—everything that could have been, everything that should have been. what remained now was a cold bitterness, an unbearable pain that consumed him from within. the silence around him was deafening.

he stood there for what seemed like an eternity, unsure whether to retreat or advance. but the weight of his pain pushed him forward, crossing the threshold between what was left of his family and the chasm he had created.

regulus saw him first. there was no shock in his gaze, only a calm that seemed unshakable, as if he had known this moment would come. as if he had been prepared for it all along. slowly, he rose from where he sat, his hand still holding yours, and looked directly at sirius.

“you’ve returned,” regulus said, his tone neither welcoming nor accusing. it was simply a statement. “what do you intend now?”

sirius felt the words rise up from deep within him, sharp as blades, fueled by anger and regret. he turned his gaze to you, and as the words spilled from his lips, he could not stop them—like a force beyond his control, he was compelled to speak, to unleash the weight of his sorrow and fury.

“do you really think you fucking deserve this, regulus?” he spat, his voice low but intense. “do you think you can replace me? do you really believe that because you’re the younger brother, you can take everything that was mine without paying the price?”

he turned to you then, his eyes clouded by rage and remorse. “and you? after everything we’ve been through, everything i did for you… you chose him? you chose regulus?”

his words were like daggers, each one a piercing cry of pain, a silent plea for forgiveness he could not find the courage to speak.

regulus did not falter. he did not retreat. he stood there, hand still entwined with yours, his expression calm and unyielding, as though he had already weathered this storm. he had already seen the wounds and scars sirius carried, and now, he was ready to face the consequences of those actions.

“it’s enough, sirius,” regulus said, his voice low, yet firm—an authority in his words that made sirius’s heart skip a beat. “do you think you can destroy me with your words, like you always have? it won’t work. not now. not in front of my wife.”

the silence that followed was thick, oppressive—full of the weight of years of silence, of the burden of everything that had been left unsaid. sirius stared at you, his eyes clouded with pain, and for the first time, he understood, in a brutal, blinding clarity, the wounds he had inflicted upon himself. the pain that filled him was almost unbearable, a stabbing blow to the chest that stole his breath. yet, even as it tore at him, regulus’s words continued to echo in his mind—sharp and cutting, each one burrowing deeper into his heart, a precise blow that tore through him with ruthless accuracy. every one of them dug into his soul, until, finally, he found himself consumed by rage—a blind fury that stole his ability to breathe, that overwhelmed him completely.

“you’ll never understand, will you, regulus?” sirius spoke, his voice low, but filled with such disdain that it seemed to carry the weight of ancient curses. “you were always the ‘good boy.’ the perfect one. the one who never rebelled. the one who never had the courage. and now you think you can take my place? shit, you think you deserve something that you don’t even understand? something that was always mine, something only i could carry?”

he stepped forward, his posture arrogant, his words dripping with contempt. “she always looked at me. and you, weakling, think you can take her from me? you don’t know what it means to love, to give everything for someone, to make sacrifices. you never knew that.” he paused, his gaze venomous. “but now you stand there, like a rat that found its nest. and you ask me—where is the worth in that, regulus? where is the courage? where is the honor?”

regulus’s reply was immediate, his voice low, controlled, but carrying an unmistakable fury—each word a sharp weapon, a perfect counterstrike to sirius’s venom.

“be careful what you say, sirius,” regulus retorted, his gaze cold, sharp as a forged blade. “you think you can reduce me to just a reflection of your ego? you think you can trap me in your arrogance? you’re nothing but a broken man who can’t even look himself in the mirror. you never had the strength to admit that you lost. to accept that you destroyed everything you touched. you don’t know what it means to love someone with your soul, to look at them and see your entire world in their eyes.” he stepped forward, unwavering, unhesitant. “and that’s why she was never yours. that’s why she never chose you. you got lost in your lies, in your pride. and now, it’s too late.”

the air between them had become electric, thick with fury, resentment, and desperation. each word between them was no longer just a word—it was a curse, a binding spell woven with hatred, an agreement forged in the shadows of malice and contempt. the two brothers, once bound by blood, now stood as adversaries, each locked in a battle that had transcended their familial ties.

regulus looked at sirius with an expression that was both a promise and a curse. “you could never see what was right in front of you, always blinded by your own arrogance, by your pride. you were so consumed by your own pain, your own desperation, that you couldn’t see what i saw. you couldn’t see her for what she really was, or what she really wanted from someone.” he pointed to you, standing there, watching them both. but his eyes were filled with a truth sirius could no longer escape.

“you lost her, sirius. and now, it’s too late.”

with that, the silence that had hung between them, thick with the weight of broken promises and shattered lives, pressed in like a suffocating fog, each second more suffocating than the last. it was a silence so absolute, so cruel, that it felt as though the walls themselves had closed in, as if even the house—grimmauld place, with its cold, dark corridors and haunted memories—had absorbed the bitterness of their words. it was as though the very air between them had become sharp, like glass, ready to cut deep into whatever fragile hope was left in sirius’s heart.

sirius felt it—his failures crashing into him with an almost physical force, like waves of a storm that never ceased to pound against the shores of his soul. the crushing weight of every misstep, every wrong choice, every moment of pride and arrogance, all of it came rushing at him in one suffocating wave. the ache in his chest, the hollow emptiness that had been gnawing at him for years, threatened to consume him whole. regret spiraled endlessly within him, faster and faster, until it became a maelstrom—twisting, tearing, pulling him under. his mind reeled as he felt every regret he’d ever buried rise to the surface, each one like a haunting shadow, a specter from the past that could no longer be ignored.

he had always believed he could outrun it, that he could escape the ghosts of his past by embracing the present, by fighting in the war, by seeking vengeance, by looking for any kind of redemption. but now, standing here—no longer the man he once thought he was—he understood that there was no escape. no amount of defiance, no amount of rage, could erase the mistakes that had led him here. he had destroyed everything. everything that could have been, everything that should have been. and the magnitude of his own failure was suffocating, almost unbearable.

it was as if the weight of his entire life—his choices, his actions, his relentless pursuit of the wrong things—had come crashing down upon him in that single moment, and the unbearable truth became clear. there was no turning back. no way to undo the damage. no way to rewrite the ending of his story. every step he had taken, every path he had chosen, had brought him to this very moment of irrevocable loss.

his gaze flickered between regulus and you, but it felt as though the distance between him and the two of you was insurmountable—an ocean of his own mistakes that could never be crossed. the love he had once felt for you, the bond he thought was unbreakable, now felt like a distant memory—like a dream he could never touch again. you had chosen regulus. and in that choice, you had left him behind, not just in body, but in spirit, in every part of him that had once believed in something greater than himself.

the silence stretched on, unbearable, suffocating. sirius could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps, as if the very act of breathing had become an effort he could no longer bear. everything had fallen apart. the house, his family, his love, his life—each one of those pieces lay in ruins around him, and there was no escaping the wreckage he had created. he was drowning in it.

and yet, the truth was clearer than ever: the end had come. not just for this moment, but for his entire existence. all the hope he had clung to for so long had vanished, like smoke dissolving in the air, and all that remained was a hollow, aching emptiness that could never be filled.

his story—the one he had desperately tried to write, to control, to mold into something meaningful—was over. the chances he had squandered, the love he had let slip through his fingers, the bond with his brother he had shattered with nothing but arrogance and pride, all of it had led to this moment. and now, standing in the ruins of his own making, sirius finally understood: there was no redemption. there was no forgiveness, no second chance. the weight of everything he had lost, everything he had failed to protect, pressed upon him like a suffocating blanket, and all he could do was stand there—lost, broken, and utterly alone.

[flyingspicerack]

im cooking something

[kkeke99]

Enough time has passed now, so I can finally say with certainty that the only good MLs of the Jewelpet Series are Akira Nanase and Retsu Akagi 👍🏻

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Seeing ghosts in Gotham

He’s walking alone. Despite how dark it is, he’s not particularly nervous, not like the couple of people hovering in an alley.

His shift at Batburger went a little long, not that he’s complaining, he needed the money.

Everything is fine. Splendid. Fantastic. A little quiet, enough to pretend it’s a nice stroll home like it was back in Amity. Of course that all kind of goes up in flames when a dark figure drops into a crouch right in front of him. About two arm lengths away is a guy who straightens to a little taller than Danny himself. From the flickering street light across the street he can spot red, crisscross yellow, and a dark cape.

Red Robin.

Danny shakes his head and turns around.

“Nope.”

A smaller body is already standing behind him, blocking his path. The little guy with a serious face folds his arms across his chest as if challenging Danny to try to get by him.

He’s had enough tussles with Danielle to know better than to test the kid.

Danny rubs at his eyes with a hand, purposefully keeping the other limp at his side. He turns back around.

“Okay. Fine. What? What do you want?”

“You sent in a folder of information to solve the Boothe case,” Red Robin states confidently like there wasn’t any doubt it was Danny who sent it in.

He frowns. It was sent in anonymously. As in they shouldn’t be able to know it was him. Then again they are detectives in their own right even if they dress weird.

“See? This is why no one helps out the police if they’re gonna get grilled for it later on,” he complains sourly.

“That case is connected to another string of crimes we’ve been investigating. I need to know where you got your information.”

Danny glares at him for a second, actually thinking about telling him, then he remembers how quickly these guys throw people into Arkham.

“Do you not get what anonymous means?”

“What is your source?” He asks, completely ignoring Danny’s concerns.

“What are gonna do? Dangle me over the side of a building to get me to talk like you do with the criminals you guys pick up? Go ahead. See where that gets you,” he shrugs indifferently.

“You’re a runaway.”

Danny’s eyes widen in surprise before narrowing into a warning as he turns to look at the pipsqueak that spoke.

“From your poorly made fake ID and the fact you don’t look close to eighteen, you must be a runaway minor. We could bring you in to the proper authorities if you prove to be… uncooperative.”

Danny sneers in annoyance.

“Seriously?” He turns back to Red Robin. Clearly the older of the two and the one leading this investigation. “This is what I get for trying to help? Blackmail?”

“Robin can be a bit… abrasive. I, on the other hand, can appreciate a different approach.”

Suddenly there’s a couple pieces of paper money in between his fingers. Danny couldn’t see how much it was from this far away, but it didn’t really change how he felt about the whole situation.

“Now bribery? Wow, you guys really got the whole good cop, bad cop thing down, don’t cha?”

“Then what do you want?”

“For you to stop wasting your time,” Danny answers with a snap.

Red Robin pauses.

“Our time,” he repeats calmly.

“Yea. Your time. This is a dead end and you should move on.”

“And why are you a dead end?” Presses Robin.

“Because,” Danny emphasizes with a look over his shoulder, “the guy you’re really looking for, my source as you put it, is dead, okay? So you can’t go ask him questions. I sent in everything that was relevant. Find another lead.”

Red Robin’s expression remains blank as he mentally calculates his next move. Danny hopes he takes his advice and let him go home.

“His name?”

Danny folds his arms over his chest, a pathetic attempt to protect himself. He chews on his lip a minute. To tell him or not to tell him. It’s not really ratting the guy out since he’s, you know, dead. Although there is a large chance Danny’s missing something and it’s all going to lead back to him somehow.

“I didn’t kill him.”

“I never said you did,” the vigilante replies calmly, almost nonchalant.

Danny shifts his weight with nerves. He really wasn’t getting out of this without giving them something, huh?

“Greg,” he grinds out like it’s painful.

Silence for a few moments, then-

“As in Gregory Boothe?”

The victim of this whole conversation? Yes.

Danny’s silence is answer enough and the diverted gaze just solidified their suspicions.

“Gregory Boothe’s body turned up a month ago. Presumably he’d been dead for several weeks before that.”

Red lets that damning information hang in the air like Danny didn’t already know.

“So when did he talk to you? Last week?”

Danny jerks at the off handed joke, actually taking a step back and hitching his shoulders up to his ears. He grimaces at his knee jerk response, but can’t take it back. A glance toward the vigilante shows a calculating stunned expression from what he can see ignoring the mask. He looks away again finding a discarded soda can very interesting.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Demands Robin behind him.

Danny tried to resist the urge to curl even more into himself, but knows he failed without even having to look.

“You’re a medium,” Red Robin states. It’s not even a question.

Danny flinches and shoots the guy a scared glare.

“I am not one of those scam artists,” he hisses firmly.

“No,” Red agrees, “you’re not. You didn’t ask for money or attention.”

Danny stares like it’s his first time seeing him. The lack of aggression or accusations was new and a little disarming. He was genuinely confused as to why the guy wasn’t immediately going to denial or throwing him in Arkham.

“Hell of a city to hide in when you can see ghosts,” Red Robin says in a light tone like he was teasing him. The small tug to his lips just proves it.

Danny’s shoulders practically sag at the playful demeanor. A hand reaches up to rub the back of his neck self-consciously.

“Yea, well… no one was gonna look for me here.”

Which was only half the reason he chose Gotham, but it was still truthful.

“So… Greg?”

“Isn’t here right now.” Danny pauses and snorts at himself. “Please leave a message.”

The vigilante does have a sense of humor because he smirks in response to the joke.

“Is there another way to… make contact? Summoning maybe?”

Danny raises an eyebrow incredulously.

“Summoning is rude,” he says like it’s common sense.

Instead he turns to the nearest reliable ghost in the vicinity.

“Hey, Susan, can you go-“

The vigilantes can’t hear how she interrupts him because she was standing there the whole time and knows exactly what he was going to ask.

“Okay, thanks. Meet at mine.”

The ghost woman nods and flies off to go hunt down dear old Greg and Danny turns to Red Robin. He makes a casual move with his head to say ‘follow me’ and continues walking down the sidewalk past the guy and further into the old, decrepit buildings he’s been squatting in.

They already know he’s a runaway, being homeless shouldn’t come as a shock to them. Even with his two jobs, he can’t afford to rent an apartment. No wonder so many people are in poverty or in the slums.

He ducks into his rundown building, ignoring the rats scurrying away, and hops up the rickety stairs, avoiding the ones that were unstable. It was a nightmare figuring out which steps were faulty. Lots of injuries.

At the top he turns to see Red easily copying his movements up the stairs while Robin balances along the railing like a tight rope. When they reach the top at the same time Danny just stares at them for a moment before shaking his head in exasperation. Darn vigilantes. Why did Danny have to get caught up in this mess?

He turns, walking along the floor closest to the wall before getting to what he’s deemed his room.

It used to be an office from what he can tell. A desk pushed against the far wall and a ripped sofa he’s been using as a bed on the other wall. The floors were the most stable in this room which really won out.

Danny goes to the desk where all his papers are scattered over the surface. An organizational pattern only he understands as he shuffles through the pile he pulls from the cubby above the desk. It holds all the same information he sent into the police, just in its raw form with about twice the amount of useless information. Along with it is a few other ‘cases’ that sounds familiar that he just threw together into a pile. Maybe the genius detectives could decipher what he couldn’t.

“Here,” he says, holding out the stack. Red Robin doesn’t hesitate to take it off his hands.

There’s no chair for the desk anymore so he slides some papers out of the way to hop onto the desk to wait.

“No.”

The vigilantes look at him and he shakes his head and looks over to the side.

“No, Abby. I’m not wasting their time.”

Red Robin goes back to flipping through papers. Most of them were old business papers he had found in the office and just written on the back. Some were receipts or pamphlets or some other random scrap of paper he could get his hands on.

“Because yours was an accident. There’s nothing for them to solve.”

Robin watched him cautiously as if waiting for Danny to snap or suddenly turn violent. Instead he leans back on his hands in a vulnerable position which screamed ‘I don’t want to hurt anyone’.

“There is a lot more information here than what was submitted to the police,” Red Robin comments neutrally, purposefully ignoring Danny’s exasperated sigh and one-sided conversation.

Danny shrugs in defense, “Didn’t think all of it was relevant.”

The vigilante doesn’t respond.

Robin drifts closer as Danny gives a withering glare to the corner. He examines the mess of papers surrounding the teen in the low lighting.

“Are these all files of victims?”

Danny glances over them with a knowledgeable eye.

“Most.” He twists to point at the top left corner of the cubbies. “Those are accidents though… well, what sounds like accidents.”

“There should be more.”

Danny looks at the boy with a tilted head and raises brow.

“Not everyone sticks around,” he explains simply.

Then something draws his attention away across the room. Surprisingly his eyes don’t glaze over like someone with mental illness, instead they sharpen to see something they can’t. It resembled Constantine or Thomas.

“Greg, these guys wanna talk to you.”

What proceeds is a very awkward interaction with Danny as a middle man between victim and vigilante. Despite the need for a translator, Red Robin does in fact get a lead from the conversation.

“Thank you for your cooperation.”

Danny nods. “Sure, no problem. Just don’t rat me out to the police and I can help with any other case that pops up with a ghost attached.”

“You know we can help with your living situation,” Red Robin offers with a glance around the room.

“What, and put me in foster care? No thanks, I’ll pass.”

“There are other options,” Robin chimes in with nonchalance that implies he doesn’t actually care.

“You don’t pass for eighteen, but if you let me make you a new ID we could say you’re emancipated.”

Danny frowns.

“I’d have to be sixteen to be eligible for emancipation.”

“You could be sixteen.”

No, he really couldn’t. Maybe if you squint your eyes and tilt your head, but Danny is fourteen with all the baby fat and innocent face that comes with it. His license now is a clear fake to anyone who sees it, but in this city no one’s gonna question it to his face. They just raise a brow, look at him, then shrug it off and roll with the lie.

“What do you want?” He demands. All this good will and wanting to help him can’t be free.

“We want to help,” Red says too easily.

Danny stares for a second, eyes narrowed as he tries to block out the multiple voices around him.

Insurance. He wants Danny to owe him so he can keep coming back for more information.

“I just told you I would help. Why are you still trying to get leverage?” He demands with irritation.

“We want to help-“

“You want me in your back pocket.”

Red Robin doesn’t give that a response, his lips pressing together to make a hard line.

Instead of pushing, he surprisingly takes a step back and heads towards the door, papers still in hand. Danny doesn’t argue.

Robin ducks out first, blending into the shadows without even a glance over his shoulder. Red Robin pauses in the doorway.

“Don’t try to skip town,” he states like an order. Like if Danny did in fact try, he would be found and brought back.

It didn’t even cross Danny’s mind.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he says tiredly, too fed up with the day to defend himself.

Red Robin watches him for a moment before nodding and disappearing out the room.

Danny slumps with a groan, finally sliding off the desk to shuffle to the couch, body flopping face first into the worn cushions.

It’s silent to everyone else but Danny.

“I know.”

…

“I know, Jack, but I don’t trust them. Even if he is your son.”

Danny never noticed the bug planted by Robin on the underside of the desk.

[cold-kitty]

Due to very, very high demand for part two of my Yan!Mermaid (looks at my notifications and cries), here it is.

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

Contains: NSFW, dub-con, same warnings as the last one other than that

Yan!Mermaid who starts clinging to your leg as you sigh, so happy that you're giving him another chance.

Yan!Mermaid who watches your hand signals and listens to your foreign words, not understanding a thing but tries to listen for your sake.

Yan!Mermaid who forces himself not to straddle you when he sits next to you, his tail swaying slowly behind him.

Yan!Mermaid who watches you fish all day, just enjoying your presence.

Yan!Mermaid who pouts and whines and clings to you when you try to leave. no no no no no! don't leave! i don't wanna be alone! stay with me, i promise to keep you warm!

Yan!Mermaid who tries to climb into the trunk of your car, and somehow manages.

Yan!Mermaid who happily slides out of your truck when you arrive home, smiling wide.

Yan!Mermaid who's surprised when you don't seem happy too. you look mad, but you suck it up and groan.

Yan!Mermaid who doesn't like how you put him in a tank with the fish you caught, he wants to sleep in your bed!

Yan!Mermaid who climbs out of the tank when you're asleep and crawls across the floor to your room, curling up in bed with you.

Yan!Mermaid who lets his mind wander to when he was grinding against you, how good it felt. y-your skin is so w-warm and soft... a-ah...

Yan!Mermaid who is immediately worked up again, pressing himself against you tight.

Yan!Mermaid who lets his hands greedily trail over you, gently squeezing your thighs and watching the flesh bounce back into place.

Yan!Mermaid who hesitantly pulls down your pants. he promises himself that he's just looking, but he can't resist the temptation. s-so pretty...

Yan!Mermaid who starts by squishing the flesh of your ass, watching it jiggle. he continues to do that for a while, almost mesmerized. he loves watching you squirm in your sleep too.

Yan!Mermaid who sticks his fingers in his mouth, sucking on them and getting them wet.

Yan!Mermaid who starts by pushing one finger into you, slowly so he doesn't hurt you. he watches how your unconscious body squirms and reacts to the intrusion.

Yan!Mermaid who slowly pushes another finger into you, but that wakes you up. you look behind you almost immediately, a horrified look on your face.

Yan!Mermaid who expects you to hurt him, staring at you with wide and fearful eyes. he starts moving his fingers nonetheless, hoping that it might calm you down, twisting and curling them with slight hesitation. oh please don't hate me! you're just so irresistible!

Yan!Mermaid who watches as your body starts to quiver softly, your head falling back into the pillow. you were giving up to the pleasure, even if reluctantly.

Yan!Mermaid who feels encouraged, his fingers thrusting fasted, twisting and curling them to his hearts content. he makes sure to get real close to you so he can hear all of your soft whimpers and moans. a-ah... keep making those sounds... so cute...

Yan!Mermaid who keeps this up until you cum, and oh my God is he so happy. he watches as you convulse softly, pulling his fingers out and licking them. he doesn't mind if it's nasty if it's you.

Yan!Mermaid who lowers himself down and starts licking up the cum that fell onto the bed.

Yan!Mermaid who pats your back reassuringly as he positions himself behind you, helping you out though the whole thing. stroking your hair, praising you in his language, kissing every inch of your body, going as slow as he can.

Yan!Mermaid who cuddles you the whole night after that, kissing you softly. he's so happy, so fucking happy. he finally got to mate with you like a real lover, even if it was only one short round.

(BONUS NSFW: Yan!Mermaid definitely does analingus, %100. Yan!Mermaid puts your needs and wants before his, if he wants to go fast and you want to go slow he goes slow. he hates seeing you in crying, so he refuses to overstimulate you, nothing rough or degrading, and he doesn't dare leave marks on you. Yan!Mermaid AFTERCARE, SO MUCH OF IT.)

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

Does anyone know how mermaid dick works? Like honestly, how. Is it in the tail? Just hanging out there? HOW!?

~🐈‍⬛

[radiant-reid]

24 Hours

request: a blurb where he actually gets mad at JJ when she confesses to love him but doesn't really say anything at the moment. But then when he introduces reader to the team as his girlfriend, JJ is being kinda rude to her. She tries to tell him she doesn't like her, that she's not good for him. And spencer gets mad and protective👀 maybe he even throws a "i'm going to marry her, whether you like it or not".

a/n: my return piece !!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Fluff)

Word Count: 2.2k

Spencer sees red when he walks out of the jewelry store after shooting the unsub.

JJ is the first girl he has ever asked out, someone he pined over for years after her subtle rejection at the Redskins game. He understood her reasoning. It would have been impractical for them to add relationship highs and lows to everything the BAU has been through over fourteen years, and that's if they stayed together. If they hadn't, things would have been even more complicated.

Also she just generally didn't like him that way. Or so he thought.

It didn't mean she wasn't his ideal for many years. His first love, who had so many traits he didn't have that he desperately wanted.

His confirmation he would be unlucky in love came after that with Maeve, who he once again thought could be the one for him. And then he realized that maybe the person for him had been taken away from him.

Then he met Y/n, and it all seemed worth it. All those terrible nights of crying and feeling like he would forever be alone, all the times he was the only single one on the team, knowing everyone was going home to someone they loved unconditionally and relied on for support.

She's the sun and the moon, and he fell in love so fast he couldn't stop it. Luckily, she did too.

Until JJ fucked it up.

The truth she had to tell to get them out alive dropped an atomic bomb on his newly formed life plans.

Spencer doesn't speak to her that night as they finish their recounts and reports. She leaves it out, though, he discovers, opting to write the secret about her miscarriage instead of confessing her love for her best friend and the godfather of her kids.

It messes with his head the whole way home. He can't sleep on the jet, even if he wanted to as he tried to work out what he was feeling.

All JJ does is send him pleading looks, and all he does is get angry because how dare she do this now? After she had fifteen years of them working together, all those chances to tell him how she felt.

He would have married and had a family with her, the family he always wanted. It's always stayed in the back of his head for so long, and just as he sees someone else in that role in his dreams, she drudges all of it back up.

It's such a long flight, and he taps his foot the whole way while staring out the window, not even able to read.

He goes to Y/n's. He's not sure what he's going to say, how much of it he's going to tell her, but he needs to see her to cool off the fury boiling out of him.

"Hey, handsome." She calls out when he walks in the door as cheerful as ever.

He feels a pit of guilt sink into his stomach because he can't tell her without ruining everything they delicately have put together. Maybe it's wrong to lie by omission, but his brain keeps coming back to fault. And it's JJ's fault. She's the one who's jeopardizing everything.

"Hi, gorgeous." He replies, walking into the living room to find her laying on the couch, book in her hands and her head on the armrest. He's reminded how accurate the petname he calls her by is when he's taken off guard by her breathless beauty. "How are you liking it?" He asks.

"It's good." She answers, putting the book down. "But that's because it's very you."

She gets up, meeting him behind the couch to cup his jaw, stroking over his skin and staring into his eyes for a moment before kissing him properly.

He relaxes into it, the tension in his shoulders easing and his brain slowing down for a moment. It's heavenly, as always, and it's what being loved is meant to feel like.

"How was your case?" She asks when she pulls back, still not daring to move too far away from him.

He tenses instantly at that, totally readable behavior, but he's got to perfect excuse to play it off. "It was rough." He holds out his bandaged hand that he's been avoiding showing her. "I got hurt."

"Shit." She straightens up, noticing how big it looked. "What happened?"

"Cut it on glass." He answers, not going as far as to say where he was when it occurred. "I'm fine, though. Promise."

She nods, reassured. "We've got to be up in, like, six hours, you know?" She reminds him of the time.

With the amount of coffee and adrenaline in his system, he barely registered it was already past 2 in the morning. Usually, they would have stayed in LA for the night, but being home in time for Rossi's wedding trumped a good night of sleep for everyone.

"Can I sleep here?" He wonders, awkwardly looking down at his feet.

"Duh. I'm not going to kick you out and make you come pick me up so we can go tomorrow morning." She jokes. "Picked up your suit, too. You're going to look very handsome."

Spencer grins because she seriously can't get more perfect. She still feels so unattainable, but he'd do anything to make sure he doesn't lose her.

He really should tell her, but he can't. Not right now.

Y/n snaps him out of it. "Bedtime now?"

"Please." He agrees gratefully, keeping his arms wrapped around her while they walk to her bedroom.

He keeps her close while they go through the motions of getting ready for bed. Spencer quickly sheds his suit and both of them brush their teeth.

His head is on the pillow for only a few seconds before he's asleep, and she follows soon after.

The alarm going off isn't as much of a problem when Spencer is lying in bed next to her, arm wrapped around her waist. It's one of the things she misses a lot when he's away.

"Hi, beautiful," Spencer whispers, a husky voice as always. He's glad he fell asleep quickly, not having wanted to sit up thinking about the stupid things JJ has said. He just couldn't understand why it was coming up now. Sleep provided absolutely no clarity.

She grins at him. "Hi."

"Are you ready for today?" He asks softly.

"A little nervous," Y/n admits. The BAU is his family after all. His mom is there but the BAU has been where he's spent most of his life for the last 15 years.

"They'll love you." Because I love you. Spencer assures her.

She smiles softly, feeling a little better. "Let's get up then."

Spencer agrees, not before planting a few kisses on her lips and hugging her tightly.

They get ready side by side, feeling a great sense of domesticity. She's never gotten close to someone as quickly as she has with Spencer. Somehow, it's not scary that it's happened this way.

"Wow, you're very gorgeous," Spencer tells her as she touches up the final strand of her hair, adding enough hairspray that it won't fall out. He stands in the doorway of the bathroom, admiring her. "Wow."

"Thank you." Y/n spins around to look at him in his deep maroon suit. It matches her dress color which she agrees looks very nice on her. "And you're very handsome."

"Ready? The car is coming soon." He says.

She nods, fixing her bracelet. "Let's do it."

There are still some nerves as the car takes them to the venue. Spencer does a good job of assuring her it'll be okay, his hand like a magnet to her thigh. He seems slightly off like there's something out of place, but she shrugs it off. She hopes he's being cute and afraid his friends still say something embarrassing.

The venue and interior are exquisite as they make their way in. She takes a deep breath before they come across the man of the day, welcoming everyone at the entrance. She has no doubt that the value of the artwork in this room totals her apartment and everything in it.

"Spencer." Rossi, supposably, greets him in a tight hug.

"This is my girlfriend, Y/n." Spencer introduces them.

As she expects, and as she was warned about by Spencer, Rossi pulls her in for a hug, immediately calming her nerves with his warm greeting. "It's so nice to meet you. This one won't stop talking about you." Rossi jokes, nodding at an increasingly reddening Spencer.

"It's nice to meet you too." She smiles. "Thank you for inviting me."

Rossi nods. "Of course, it's a pleasure."

And then the rest of the introductions begin. Everyone's so kind, like she expected. She's seen photos and heard stories but everyone seems to have more personality than he conveyed. She's quickly fast friends with Penelope and Tara who do their absolute best to make sure Y/n's feeling comfortable.

It's how she ends up being dragged onto the dance floor after the ceremony. Once the alcohol starts flowing, there's no more anxiousness left and some extroverted spirit has been brought out.

Spencer's not one to dance, but he's one to admire. Only Y/n, though. She looks angelic, despite the old-style dance moves.

He's so wrapped up in watching her that he doesn't register JJ's heels on the ground as she approaches him. It's only when she sits next to him that his head turns around to face her.

He waits for her to speak first. Hopefully, provide some explanation.

"Spencer." She says his name softly, almost like how he used to imagine she'd say it if they were together. Much to his surprise, she doesn't go into any detail about the bomb she'd dropped less than 24 hours ago. "I'm worried about you."

He doesn't hide his scoff. "Worried about me?" He repeats.

She goes for another tactic, trying not to get him mad. "You don't think you're rushing into this?"

"Rushing into what, Jennifer?" He spits back, snapping to anger. Using her first name drives the point home, almost unnecessarily when he sounds so angered.

"You know what I mean." She continues. "You've only been talking about her for a few weeks and now she's here."

He can't fathom that she'd suggest he's rushing into a relationship. He's been careful and deliberate, but Y/n's safe, and she's proved it time and time again.

"She's been part of my life for 6 months." Spencer fact-checks her. "And you said I seemed happier since I met her."

JJ stalls, regrouping before trying another angle. "She's just not what I expected. Is she really the type you should be with?"

"What does that mean?" Spencer states, more furious than ever. There's a chance he will fully snap at her and he wouldn't be sorry.

"I feel like you should be with someone extroverted." She suggests. "You know, someone to get you out of your shell."

Spencer needs a deep breath. "You're not being a good friend right now." He tells her much more calmly. There's not one thing he doesn't love about Y/n, whether she's more on the extroverted or introverted side."I'm going to marry her, whether you like it or not." It's not even what he expected to come out of his mouth.

"Spence-" JJ tries again to reason with him.

"No, don't you dare," Spencer says firmly. "You flew back and forth from New Orleans so many times to see Will, without telling us once and we were all accepting of your relationship. If you don't like my relationship, I don't care. But it's not too soon for me to know. We can talk about what you told me later, but for now, I'm going to dance with my girlfriend." Without another word, he gets up and walks off, leaving her a little gobsmacked.

Y/n frowns at him as he approaches the dance floor. "Are you okay?" She checks.

"More than okay," Spencer tells her with a soft smile.

"Dance with me then." She says, mirroring her smile and holding out her hand.

"I'd love to." He takes her hand just as a slow song comes on for them to sway together.

JJ gets ignored by him for the rest of the night, something unnoticed by Y/n but purposeful by Spencer. But it's fun. So much fun. And he's sure he wouldn't be having as much fun had Y/n not been there. She truly makes his day.

They're in the car later that night, parked near her apartment, ice cream eaten on the trip home. "I'm in love with you," Spencer admits when her laughter falls off after he tells a joke.

It's not a word they've said before.

Her expression is of pure shock, but joy quickly creeps in. "I'm in love with you too." She tells him, grinning.

And it's an entirely better confession than the one he heard 24 hours ago.

[chleem]

Mistletoe

One shot: bf drew starkey x gf yn

Summary: In which your secret relationship with drew gets exposed due to a quick kiss beneath the mistletoe.

Genre: fluff (making out wdrew)

⋆.˚ please dont copy or translate my work!

♡⸝⸝ happy xmas! | halloween | mr & mrs starkey

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You thought no one would say yes to a Home Alone marathon, but here you were—with seven friends huddled on your couch the week before Christmas.

You were prepared for rejection from them; watching the entire trilogy alone - well, not alone. With Drew, of course. 

Your boyfriend, of three months. Secret boyfriend. 

No one knew about you and Drew. And you both planned to keep it that way. The moment anyone found out, the teasing would be relentless. The questions would come. And honestly? You weren’t ready for that invasion of privacy.

It was easier this way. Just the two of you. Even if Drew was laughing along with everyone else, sitting across the room, his gaze on you would linger longer in a way only the two of you understood. 

What did Taylor Swift once say? Romance is not dead, if you keep it just yours. 

Maybe, the best thing she’s ever written. 

You stand up from your seat, carrying your empty cup. You needed a refill of hot chocolate, the only thing (other than Drew) that’s keeping your sanity alive in this cold weather. 

When you walk past where Drew’s sitting, the heavy weight of his stares makes your heartbeat uncontrollably speed up. 

Entering your kitchen, you immediately reheat the milk using the coffee machine, then pouring a bag of the instant chocolate powder into your cup. 

It feels like hours has passed waiting for the coffee machine to stop. 

Luckily, you weren’t alone while waiting. 

Before you can even react, arms snake around your waist, caging you between his body and the kitchen counter. His chest presses lightly against your back, and the warmth of his body sends a shiver down your spine.

Your heart already knows who it is: Drew. 

“Hey you,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing. 

He kisses your temple, and you sneak a look past his shoulder. The kitchen had a wall separating itself from the living room; but you could never be sure. 

“No one saw me,” he says, reading your thoughts. You look into his mischievous blue eyes with your skeptical ones, trying to suppress your smile. 

“Well, you can’t just sneak up on me like that,” you say, leaning into his touch. Without thinking, you let your nose drift near his neck; because why not? 

And as expected, he smells nice. 

“Mhm,” he’s never going to stop sneaking up on you. Drew’s eyes avert themselves down to your lips, before licking his own. “When are they going to leave?” 

“You know what a movie marathon means, right?”

Your words causes Drew to frustratedly groan, and throw his head back dramatically. You laugh at his reaction, finding it cute. “And we’re only on the second one…” 

“Patience, baby, okay?” You coo at him, a smile appearing on your face. 

You reach for the hot milk, pouring it carefully into your cup. As you finish, Drew’s hand moves up, effortlessly reaching the cupboard above you. Without a word, he pulls down the jar of marshmallows and hands it to you, his fingers brushing against yours. 

“We should just send them all home,” he whispers in your ear, seductively and annoyingly so, knowing that no one’s in here but the both of you. 

You send him a glare, shaking your head at him. “You mean I should send them all home. No.” 

You try to step away, cup of hot chocolate in hand, but before you can make it to the door, Drew pulls you back toward him again. His grip tightens around your waist, his hands feeling like they've found a permanent spot there.

You stumble slightly, not expecting the sudden pull, and end up having your chest tightly pressed against his. The heat from the mug in your hands is nothing compared to the warmth radiating from him.

One hand goes and takes the hot drink away from you, putting it back on the counter. “C’mon, I’m not done with you yet,” he smirks, undeniably teasing you. 

“Seriously?” you mutter, eyes narrowing at him, but the way your lips twitch betrays you. You like how he impatient he is; how he acts as if he can’t spend seconds away from you. 

You watch as Drew straightens up, his eyes gleaming with excitement, hand still firmly around your waist. The other slips into his pocket, and you raise an eyebrow, already bracing yourself for whatever this latest move will be.

“What now—” you start to ask, but your words die in your throat as Drew pulls something small out of his pocket.

The smallest sprig of mistletoe possible.

Your breath catches as you look up at him, eyes wide in disbelief. You expected anything but that.

He holds the mistletoe above the both of you, now expecting you to kiss him.

Then…“With you~ shawty with you,” the familiar tone of Justin Bieber’s Mistletoe leaves Drew’s mouth, but completely out of tune. 

You snort, unable to hold it in, the goofy sound escaping your mouth before you can even stop it. Romantic moment? No, maybe the complete opposite. 

Drew’s grin widens, and before you can even get a word out, he continues to sing the last chorus of the song. 

Your soft giggles encourages him to sing even more dramatically, adding in ad-libs. And when the song comes to an end, he attempts a high-note on the last lines, “kiss me underneath the mistletoe.” 

“You dork,” laughing, you hit his shoulder lightly in attempt to push him away.

“C’mon, kiss me,” he leans down closer to you, “especially after that performance.” 

You look up at him, eyes still gleaming with laughter, but something shifts. The playfulness in his gaze deepens, the smile slipping into something a little softer, a little more serious. He’s still holding the mistletoe above your heads, but it no longer feels like a joke.

And because it was such a good performance, you wrap your arms around his neck, pull him even closer, and kiss him. 

You pour your emotions into it; kissing him soft and slow. Drew immediately melts into it, kissing you back with the same tenderness. 

He drops his hands to wrap around your body, the rough leaves of the mistletoe tickling the skin your top doesn’t cover. You giggle into the kiss, leaving the invitation for Drew to thrust his tongue deeper into you. 

His hand slips lower and cups your ass, giving it a tight squeeze. 

Moaning into his mouth, you know this kiss is escalating. Escalating, rather fast. 

The pulse that speeds up in your lower stomach can support your thoughts. 

You pull away from him, breathless and slightly starstruck. 

Drew is definitely starstruck, lips plumped, cheeks red, and his blue eyes no longer able to hold a single thought behind them. 

He leans down to continue, and when you pull away, a pout is evident on his lips. 

“Earth to Joseph,” you giggle breathlessly, cupping his face. 

He smiles at the mention of his full name, lazy look in his eyes. “They didn’t notice I was gone,” he murmurs, his voice laced with desperation to kiss you again. 

“They will soon,” you gently tell him, before planting a quick kiss to his lips again. 

“Fuck,” he groans, biting down on his lower lip. His gaze drops down between the both of you, and you follow his trail of line. 

Sure enough, the crotch area of his jeans is slowly emerging, a line evident.

“Forgot how easily aroused you are,” you tease, patting his shoulder as you walk past him.

Your gaze flickers to the doorway, and when your mind confirms it, you freeze.

“Shit.”

Your eyes lock with Madelyn’s. She’s standing there, mouth opened in a gasp, eyes wide with shock. She doesn’t even try to hide the fact that she’s caught you in the act. 

Her eyes flicker between you and Drew, who immediately turns his back to face her (obvious reasons why). Her opened mouth turns into a full-wide grin, before raising a finger to point between you and Drew. “Oh! Oh-“

Madelyn’s loud remarks echoes through your apartment, making herself heard to the rest of the group in the living room. You embarrassingly bury your face into your hands, hearing the footsteps of your friend group entering your kitchen. 

Great. So much for keeping this relationship a secret. 

“What happened?” You hear JD ask, worry in his tone. 

“They were making out! And- and Drew’s hard right now!” She practically yells it, leading to a chorus of gasps and laughs. You’re pretty sure Rudy laughs the hardest, his laugh full of amusement and disbelief. 

You groan in embarrassment, your face burning as you sink to the floor, hands instinctively covering your face like a shield. "Fuck," you mutter under your breath.

“You owe me fifty bucks!” You hear Chase happily chirp to someone. 

Everyone takes advantage of you and Drew’s discomfort, just like how you expected them to do once they found out.  

You then feel hands cupping your face, forcing you to look up. 

You meet the familiar blue, Drew now kneeling beside you with an embarrassed smile that matches yours. He rests his forehead against yours, his chest vibrating with laughter, “guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

You giggle at his capability to joke along, hitting his shoulder lightly. “You’re so annoying.”

“Merry Christmas to you too,” Drew says, brushing off your comment with a playful shrug.

You shake your head, but the warmth in your chest is undeniable. With a quick move, you grab the collar of his sweater, pulling him close. You tilt your head just enough to meet his lips in a kiss.

It’s soft. Brief. Sweet. Just enough to drown out the noise, to remind you of the quiet between you two amidst the madness.

When you finally pull away, your breath mingling, you murmur softly, “Merry Christmas,” your voice a gentle whisper that only he can hear.

Drew’s eyes soften as he looks down at you, his smile warm and genuine. “Merry Christmas,” he repeats, as if this moment—this simple kiss—is exactly what he needed too.

-------------------------------

word count: 1.6k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: merry christmas!! hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it! i love writing these little holiday specials, bc it gives me the opportunity to write something fun & weird! last one i wrote was hallow's eve, and i just wanna say thxs for liking it. that is, im currently writing another christmas oneshot, so look forward to it!

[rafesangelita]

⋆˚✿˖° rafe and pogue!sweetheart!reader reevaluate their living situation now that she’s carrying a little baby in her tummy.

warnings: babydaddy!rafe, pregnancy, soooo much fluff, crying (mostly happy tears! no worries), rafe is so reassuring :(

a/n: introducing rafe’s condo to my blog.. but tanneyhill will forever be my go-to :( also just a reminder: pogue!sweetheart!reader is only pregnant in this fic alone. meaning any other works i create with her are not correlated with this one UNLESS stated so <3 you could keep up with this little universe under the second tag of this post: ‘₊˚⊹♡ pogue!sweetheart!reader & babydaddy!rafe’

“why do you look so sad, baby?” rafe joined you outside, bringing you a cold glass of water as he urged you to sit down on his lap. you were growing teary-eyed again, your gaze falling on the pink and white camper in front of you. taking a small sip, rafe held onto the glass for you while you wiped at your tear stained cheeks. “it’s just,” you sniffled, “i know we can’t raise a baby here, but this little thing— it’s all i’ve ever known..” you rested your head on his shoulder, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your thigh. rafe studied you for a moment, stroking the side of your face.

“i’ve been meaning to talk about that actually,” rafe cleared his throat, “what if we didn’t go house hunting?” his words drew your attention, a hum falling from your lips. “and stay here? i would love that,” you shook your head, “but i know it’s for the best. we barely fit in there ourselves.” rafe laughed. “yeah, i know.. someone is always bumping their head when we have sex.” your cheeks heated as you slapped his arm playfully. “well to be fair, it was just me in there before you came along,” you sighed, “i can’t even imagine that now.” you pecked his cheek.

“at first, i thought maybe we could check out some houses on figure eight..” your eyes widened, your lips parting to reject his suggestion. “but,” rafe interjected, “i know that’s not really your scene.” he reassured you. “so i want to propose something else,” both of you looked at each other, “i’ve been working on this blueprint, m’thinking we just get our house built out here. you could design the kitchen however you want, whatever would be best for you and your baking, we can put the nursery together, do the whole thing y’know. go the whole nine yards.” you swallowed thickly, tears pricking your eyes.

“you have a blueprint?” you smiled, your vision becoming blurry as rafe nodded. “yeah, you wanna see?” you whispered a ‘yes, please!’ before he guided you inside. he reached for a spot you couldn’t reach in your cabinet, unraveling the blueprint in question. “see, right here? i thought you’d like the kitchen to have big window facing the backyard, oh, and right here!” he pointed a finger, “we could have shelves built into the walls for the baby’s room, we could even have a reading nook for bedtime stories..” your heart felt so full right now, you swore it could burst at the seams.

“what’s this empty space right here in the backyard?” you held up the paper, pointing to a spot where a little white heart was drawn. “..that would be where your camper goes.” your head shot in his direction, your eyebrows knitting in confusion. “what do you mean?” you put the blueprint down, turning around while he caged you between his arms. “i think we should build the house just right out front, you don’t have to move anything, relocate the camper, none of that. i could start getting the brush cleared out as soon as next week.” you blinked, your brain trying its best to piece everything together.

“you thought of all of this in the two weeks since we found out?” your hands snaked up his chest until your arms wrapped around his neck. rafe embraced you, his eyes shutting at the sweet scent of your perfume. “i told you, you have nothing to worry about, sweetheart. i’m taking care of everything.” you breathed him in, both of you rocking softly as the wind chimes sung outside in the light breeze. you two stayed in a comfortable silence, the image of watching the sunset together on the porch of your own house with a baby on your hip flooded both of your minds.

“it’s perfect.” you looked up at him, smiling when he pecked the tip of your nose. “the three of us, huh?” rafe loved the way that sounded rolling off of his tongue. “mhmm,” you let out a shaky breath, “the three of us.”

[gurugirl]

Says Who? | demonrry

Summary: Y/n goes to an underground club and meets the devil and she'll never ever forget it.

A/N: Something filthy and fun for Halloween! Not really scary, mostly just a smutty thing!

Word Count: 3.1k

Warning: smut, filth, spitting, major MAJOR size kink, creampie, unprotected public sex, Harry's a demon (or maybe he's just a dick - you choose)

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

Y/n could feel the base vibrating through to her marrow. The whole club was alive, a sticky hot sea of sweaty, dancing bodies, strobing lights, god-awful costumes.

She was less concerned about her white angel wings getting dirtied than she was about her drink getting something tossed into it. Some of the people making eye contact with her were… she didn’t know, but perhaps she’d keep her distance.

Though, as she looked down into her plastic cup, she realized it was all but pink melted ice. If she wanted something to worry about (other than her delicate white wings) she’d need a refill.

She figured she put a little too much effort into her costume. Her angel wings were made of real feathers and lace, lined with ribbing to make them look real, and her gauzy smock dress left little to the imagination for what she wore under. Of course, she doused herself in a healthy amount of soft shimmer and glitter and attempted to do the perfect winged liner –it wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty damn near close.

She'd gone alone to the club. A maybe not-so-smart move in retrospect, but still. She was there and she wanted to do something she'd never done before. Something outside of her comfort zone. Maybe even a little dangerous for once in her life.

The bar was packed with bodies, all lined up for a drink. Y/n waved her arm in the air, hoping to get the attention of the lone bartender. The poor guy was running his ass off and she could see sweat stains under his arms. It was rather stifling in the building.

Suddenly a very warm hand was pressed into her back, hot palm burning through the thin fabric of her dress down to her skin, “You don’t need another drink, Y/n.”

Turning to her right she saw a man with an imposing stature standing over her, his massive mitt cradling his own cup as he looked down at her, green irises practically glowing.

“Says who? I’ve only had one anyway. And how do you know my name?”

The grin that stretched over his face caught her off guard. He was handsome. She let her eyes wander from his broad shoulders up his neck and to the top of his head. He had thick dark waves with small pointed horns sticking out of the top just so. They looked real. The devil. How fitting a costume for a man who looked like that.

“Your name is printed on your cup,” he pointed. Y/n had forgotten that everyone was given a cup upon entry, their name scrawled across the smooth plastic, and told not to lose it. It was one of those underground club events and the cup was like your ticket to get in once you'd passed the initial pay-to-enter area.

She laughed and smiled, “Oh, I forgot,” she looked down at his cup again, noticing large rings adorning his thick fingers, “Harry.”

“What’s an angel doing in a place like this anyway?”

Another laugh puffed from behind her lips before she used her tongue to wet her parched mouth, “It’s a club. I don’t know. Saw an ad and it sounded fun. Why? Should I be worried?” Y/n bit her lip for effect. She wasn’t worried. But she did like this man’s vibe. He was flirty without being overt, his warm hand still sprawled along her back, face dangerously close.

“You should be worried. This is not a safe place, Y/n,” an evil smile worked its way over his features. He was teasing. Or maybe he wasn't.

She shrugged and looked up at him through her lashes before releasing her bottom lip, “But you’re here,” she looked back over her shoulder at the wild crowd behind them, “You gonna keep me safe from all the bad guys?”

“Is the angel asking the devil to watch over her tonight?” His grin grew lopsided, a dimple digging into his skin. God, he was attractive.

“Maybe. But you won’t let me get another drink so I don’t know…”

His eyes scraped over her face and down to her angel outfit, auditing, before he pushed into her back, moving her toward him closer. She watched him sit his cup down on the syrup-smeared bartop before his hand found her jaw, fingers digging into the soft part under her mandible, “Oh you’re parched, are you? Open up for me, angel.”

She felt her body swell and seethe in heat from his bold ask. But what else was she there for that night but to have a little fun with a stranger? So she parted her lips, slowly opening wider as he dipped over her frame and tilted her neck back until she felt the warm glob of saliva land on the tip of her tongue. She let out a pathetic moan when he licked over her lips, his spit moistening the dry skin like he was making sure she knew whose spit was sliding down her throat.

“Did you swallow for me?” He asked cooly as he kept her jaw in his hand.

Knocking her head up and down she kept her eyes on his and then suddenly she was being pulled away from the bar. He had an arm tucked around her waist, keeping her next to his warm frame until they’d moved into the shadowy edges of the club and he prodded her into a small space between a column and a metal air duct before he was pushing his hips and mouth against hers.

He tasted like autumn outdoors, hay, spit, burning leaves… Running her fingers into his hair she felt his hand on her hip, bunching at the sheer fabric until he was reaching into the thin wispy lace of the top of her white panties, palm gliding down her belly button until the pads of his fingers were pressed in a place she would normally never let a stranger touch. Especially not in public.

But it was Halloween, and this was what she’d been looking for. Something a little dangerous, a little crazy. This was the kind of place where one could get away with such iniquities.

Soon, the only thirst that remained was to feel more of him. To feel his hands, his fingers… He smoothed his tongue against hers as his middle finger rubbed tightly over her exposed clit after he'd torn the delicate fabric of her underwear. She was throbbing against him. Wetting his digits slowly until it was slippery and he could easily slide one and then two inside of her cunt.

“Love when I make angels wet. You’re just a good girl but this is exactly what you were looking for, wasn't it?”

She moaned and yanked his hair, hoping he’d put his lips back against hers. She loved his mouth, loved how he kissed her all dirty and raw.

“Yes…” She blinked up at him and then gasped when he shoved a third fat finger inside of her hole. It made her wobble forward into him, her cheek pressed into his solid chest. He fucked her just like that, on his fingers as he kept whispering into her ear, “Gonna change your life tonight angel. Show you what it feels like to really get off.”

Her mouth was wide open as he slid his fingers so deep she was certain nothing had ever gone in like that before. Not even Donny’s hard prick felt like that (what a disappointment he had been).

“Can’t even stand up straight and that’s just my fingers in there little girl. What are you gonna do when it’s my cock splitting you in half, hm?”

She groaned as he continued pumping his fingers through her gummy insides and she gripped onto his biceps so she didn't simply wither to the floor.

Y/n didn’t want anyone to see what was happening but it felt so good and she was so close. Already. The heel of his palm was bumping, sliding into her clit with every thrust of his wrist and she swore he was fucking into her to the beat of the bassy electronic music.

Her head began to spin and her ears were ringing, muffling the noise of the crowd and the music when she felt the delicious release of her orgasm.

Harry pushed her back into the wall quickly when he felt her shaking and with his free hand he held her face, smushing her cheeks with his thumb at one side and his pointer finger on the other, “Look at me when you come. Your orgasm belongs to me. Fuck that’s so pretty…”

She was stunned. It felt so good. Her body was writhing and being pushed and pulled at the hulking man’s direction. He guided her through it, plunging his fingers inside of her and dragging them over her slick spongy spot at the front of her wall. It was like he’d found a hidden switch within her insides and turned it on for her.

“You gonna keep being a good girl for me? Let me claim you and fuck an orgasm out of you on my cock this time? Want that, angel?”

Y/n’s rationale had gone out the window the moment he spit into her mouth and licked over her lips at the bar. So she nodded as he pulled his fingers from her cunt and brought all three, slimy, coated in her arousal, up to her lips, “Open up that thirsty little mouth. Suck.”

She wrapped her lips around his fingers and he pushed them past her comfortable gag spot as he made haste with his other hand, undoing his pants before pulling out his dick.

Harry removed his hand from her mouth and pulled at her neck, "Take a look. Think it'll feel nice and snug inside that tiny little angel pussy?"

Y/n shifted her eyes down to the hot engorged dick the man had brushing against her, his tip wide and ruddy against her labia. She inhaled, looking up at the man and then back down at the size of him, "It's… I don't know… It's so…" She bucked into him, feeling unsteady, her thighs still shaking.

"At least twice as big as what you've played with before. I know. But you get used to it. Come to love it. The way it plugs in so deep, carves into your insides, and makes a nice wet home… No one ever forgets it."

She clutched his forearm with a shaky hand and used her other to reach down and touch him. He was hot. So much warmer than she expected. Peering around his broad shoulders she could see people grinding and doing ungodly things on the dancefloor already. There were no rules in that club, except to not lose the cup you were handed when you paid to enter, and she'd already lost that at the bar somewhere.

When she felt him grip tight the meat of her thigh and perch it over his hip he slid his cockhead to her dripping seam and began to dip in.

"Oohh…" she warbled out a moan and then looked up at his handsome face, "Mmm…"

"Open that pretty mouth, show me your tongue."

She did what he said, parting her lips as her pussy spread open little by little. The feel of him slowly pushing into her was sticky, gooey, sharp. But the warm spit that dripped onto her tongue was salacious, made her pussy throb and flutter around his girth.

"There we go. Get that pussy spread apart for me. Let me have you, angel."

She was already letting him have her. She was his… whatever he wanted, however he wanted it. Right in front of everyone… sloppy, wet, deranged, disgusting…

"Mm ahhh…" she panted, her brows pushed together as he rutted in and in, filling up every bit of empty space she had available. Split open, stuffed full, slippery hot debauchery.

Harry threw his head back for a moment, basking in the tight pussy wrapped around him. Sopping. It was his chance to feel a bit of heaven.

Reaching down for her other thigh, he pushed her up and lifted her, making her wrap her legs around his waist so he could work into her deeper, really give her a taste of what the devil could do.

She yelped and gurgled wetly, eyes bulging as he buried himself in, "Fuck…"

"Yeah? Didn't know angels liked to say such words." He swiveled his hips, a harsh plunge in again, and the squelch of her pussy against his length meant she was as wet as she could possibly be. "Oh you're soaked, angel. No wonder you're so thirsty. All your juices are down here," He rocked up into her and she cried out, "So you can take me properly."

While no one much cared about the angel with her wings pressed into the wall, her legs wrapped around the devil's waist as he stuffed her pussy with his big cock, it was obvious what was going on in that dark little corner every time the strobe flashed over the pair copulating. If the look on her pretty face didn't give it away, all fucked out, wet lips parted, eyes rolling back into her head… it was the way the devil was rocking his hips sharply against her, making her legs shake with every thrust.

He knew he was hollowing her out, poking in beyond what was comfortable for her… he knew she'd never forget the way he felt inside of her. It'd stick with her forever and she'd never be able to come again without thinking about the devil.

She'd masturbate thinking about that night at the club and she'd release with the image of him inside of her. And any poor man who stuck his rinky dinky human dick into her pussy would never get her off –she'd be thinking of Harry, the demon with the biggest cock she'd ever had. That would be the only way she'd ever be able to come. A curse, but also a blessing because now she'd always be able to get off to the memory of him no matter who was fucking her. Everyone else would pale in comparison… but that's what he loved so much about fucking sweet human girls. They never forgot his big cock and he owned them in a way. At least he owned their orgasms.

Slushy, gloopy, splatting… his long dick dragged and kissed against her sweetest spot and she felt the tingle and the ache of it as she bounced with every drive of his hips.

"Give me that come, angel. Right on my cock."

She inhaled sharply as he laved his tongue over her lips, slicking his saliva over her mouth and spitting onto her tongue again, "Mine. It's all mine, isn't it? Cunt will never feel it like this again but she'll remember who owns her won't she?"

Y/n was simply done for… her body was putty, molten liquid, dripping, bowing to his whim. His cock would be forever imprinted within her womb as she felt him slide through her channel, thick and throbbing - it was as if she could feel his bulbous cockhead pushing into her tummy, bulging at the front. Microscopic tears around her gaping, wet, stretched muscle she'd need to tend to later. All worth it to be fucked like that.

Her eyes were bleary as she looked at him when she began to come. He was right and she knew it. Her body would never forget it. She was ruined for him already as her vocal cords hitched up an octave and she made his favorite noise. Every dip of his broad crown through her gushing walls smeared his leaking slit against her cervix.

Harry watched the angel fall apart around his cock, face crumpled, body reveling in her release, toes curled in her shoes, but when she moaned his name and gazed into his eyes with droopy lids he couldn't hold back the way she was milking around him. He slammed into her, one brutal thrust, cock burrowing in as he splattered and pumped into her. His warm spend, a mucusy mural for her tight little wet walls. Like his signature left behind so anyone else who entered would know he'd been there. That everything inside of her cunt belonged to him because he'd already claimed it…

She'd think about all that later. That she'd had unprotected sex with a stranger at a club. That he'd filled her with his sperm and spit into her mouth. She'd get tested and watch for her period and then get tested again. And when she turned out clean and not pregnant part of her would be disappointed that she didn't have some excuse to search for the man to let him know what he'd done so she could do it all over again with him. Get her brains fucked out and her little pussy stretched in a way that shouldn't have been as good as it was.

But she wouldn't regret that part. Her only rue that night would be that she hadn't gotten his last name or maybe a number. It was probably better to not know who he was, though. Because if she did she'd obsess. She'd fiend. She'd pine. She'd stalk. She'd make a fool of herself to just have another taste. And a guy like him would probably already be onto the next.

It was better to not know who he was because he wasn't really nice. When he was finished with her, when his come was fucked into her and he made her watch how he shoved it all back in with his huge cock, gripped her neck, and made her look at the way it dripped from her puffy, used pussy and how he took his dick and pressed it back into her stinging hole and told her to not to clean herself up –he left. He dropped her down to her feet, tucked his big cock back into his pants, patted her hot little cheek, and walked off without even turning back to look or check on her.

She watched him disappear into the crowd with her torn panties at her hips and his come dripping down the inside of her legs, chest heaving, heart thrashing in her chest… Her back and her legs and her pussy ached but she'd have him again if he just came back. So, it was better to not know.

It was better to not know because maybe he actually was the devil.

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

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[pathologicalreid]

what goes bump in the night | s.r.

in which Spencer's struggling with violent nightmares after prison, and you find yourself on the receiving end of his tossing and turning

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: reader gets whapped in the face. don't like don't read, please. blood, prison arc, black eye, a lot of guilt. therapy. word count: 1.89k a/n: (this wasn't a request but shout out to the anon who told me i had to repost this after i deleted it) this is some dark shit but i have to admit i do think about the possibility a lot. take care while reading my loves.

Several years in the BAU had inadvertently trained you to wake up at any slight movement or noise. While some might call it paranoia, you considered it to be a finely tuned skill.

Spencer didn’t sleep talk before prison, and even now, he only mumbled in his sleep when he was having a nightmare. Normally, he didn’t move, he just tossed his head around and begged for whoever he was seeing in his nightmare to just hold on. Tonight was different, he sounded like he was pleading for someone to leave him alone, and he was thrashing more than usual.

You knew there was a risk of waking him, but you reached out and gently shook his shoulder anyway. “Spence,” you whispered, not wanting to hurtle him out of his darkened dreamscape.

There was no response. No sign of him coming even close to waking up.

His thrashing became worse, and his mumbling became even less intelligible like something was covering his mouth in his dream. Reaching out from your side of the bed, you tried to grab his hand, hoping it would be something that he could use to ground himself. Gripping his hand, you said his name again, more forcefully this time.

The pain didn’t even register at first. The first thing you recognized was the sensation of having something stuck in your eye, a small twinge in the outer corner that sent your hands flying to the side of your face.

Oh.

With your uninjured eye, you looked up to see Spencer, awake. Breathing heavy, sure, but awake. Very slowly, his breathing slowed, but he had seemingly forgotten that he was sharing a bed with you until you felt liquid trickling from your nose and scrambled to the bathroom before you got blood all over the sheets.

His wide eyes followed your shadow through the bedroom, putting the convoluted puzzle pieces together as he came out from under his nightmare-induced fugue state only to find a different type of panic. You faintly heard him curse and rustle the sheets as you shut the bathroom door harder than you intended.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your right eye was tearing up as a result of the impact, and your nose was trickling blood down your face. Grabbing a wad of tissues from the box on the counter, you pressed them to your nose, blinking the tears from your eyes to the sound of your heart beating through your chest.

Spencer knocked on the bathroom door, followed by a larger thud that you assumed was him leaning his head against the door. “Can I come in?”

You tried not to sniff, hating the sensation of your nose being covered, you responded, “It’s your bathroom.” Your tone was far too blasé, and Spencer was going to see through it immediately.

“That’s not what I asked,” he told you, a slight tone of desperation ringing through. You knew what he wanted to know; he was asking if you were comfortable with him being in the same room as you – if you’d feel safe with him in the same room as you.

Leaning your head back, you took as deep of a breath as your body would physically allow you before you answered, “Yeah, you can come in.”

Before you had even finished speaking, Spencer had opened the door to the bathroom, letting the light stream into the bedroom, “Fuck,” he murmured when he saw you, “Hey, don’t lean your head back. You don’t want the blood to run down your throat.”

“Okay,” your voice quavered, watching him lift his hands like he wanted to guide your head down until he realized he didn’t know what to do with his hands – he couldn’t bring himself to touch you. Leaning over the sink, you let coagulated blood fall from your mouth, watching it go down the drain before you looked up at Spencer, who watched on in horror at the mess he had created. “Can you grab more tissues?” You asked him, giving him a job to busy his idle hands.

Instantly, Spencer grabbed a handful of tissues and held them out for you, within your range of motion. Still leaning over the sink, you took the new tissues and held them to your nose, haphazardly dropping the soiled tissue in the basin beneath you. “I don’t… What-“

Cutting him off, you spoke, “Do you still have those ice packs? The first aid ones from last year,” you made a new request, giving him a job to perform so that he wouldn’t apologize to you. He’d apologize until he was blue in the face, but you still wouldn’t know how to respond.

He nodded, crouching in front of one of the cabinets and filtering through a first aid kit, hoping to produce a disposable ice pack for you to place near your eye. With the timidness of a newborn foal, Spencer set the plastic on the counter next to you.

Your boyfriend watched as you carefully peeled the tissues from your face, checking to see if the bleeding had stopped, only to quickly replace the tissue when you noticed a trickle of fresh blood making its way down your philtrum. “Aren’t you supposed to pinch it or something?”

“Yes, you can pinch the bridge of your nose to staunch the bleeding,” Spencer said, grabbing your discarded Kleenex and putting them in the garbage bin. He watched intently as you reached up your free hand to pinch your nose, “Does… does it hurt?”

Giving him a quick shake of the head, you met his eyes through the mirror, “I don’t think it’s broken,” you told him, avoiding answering most of his question.

He loosed a sigh of relief, “Thank god,” he murmured, keeping an eye on you as you wondered how terrified he must have been to invoke the name of a deity he didn’t believe in.

Once you were finally able to drop the last of the tissues in the sink, you were faced with an even worse reality. There was no way of escaping the black eye that you already had forming, the tender skin would be further marred with time. “I think it looks worse than it actually is,” you offered meekly, reaching to your side and grabbing the ice pack off of the counter. You popped the center of it before wrapping it in a towel that Spencer had set out for you.

Holding in a hiss as the towel touched your face, you allowed your eyes to wander across the rest of your body. Your shirt had drips of blood on it, but the larger issue was red encrusted all over your face. With the urgency of a sloth, Spencer took a different towel from the drawer and ran it under the tap, wringing it out before holding it up, “May I?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, thankful for your newly cleared airway as you extended your neck, giving him the access he needed to wipe the blood from your chin and neck. “Spence-“

“I’m so sorry,” he interjected, his movements faltering as he let his hand drop to your shoulder.

You shook your head, crinkling the icepack in your hand, you blinked rapidly, hoping to clear your vision. “It’s okay, I shouldn’t have grabbed you,” you told him, it was the truth. He had obviously been having a violent nightmare, and you grabbing him had likely triggered a fight or flight response.

Spencer sighed dejectedly, “I burst a blood vessel in your eye. I’m so…” his voice trailed off in the middle of his sentence, leaving you unsure whether he was going to apologize again or go off on a self-deprecating tirade. “I hit you,” he breathed, abruptly yanking his hands away from you, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you.” Setting the washcloth on the counter, he put his hands up in surrender and stepped away from you.  

Leaning against the bathroom counter, you wished for an inkling – anything you could say to him that would prevent his auto-villainization. “I wish you wouldn’t say it like that. Saying you hit me sounds so…”

“Wrong? That’s because it is,” he said harshly, and you could almost see the storm of self-loathing that was brewing in his mind.

Shaking your head, you adjusted your grip on the icepack before looking up at him, “but it makes it sound like it was intentional. You didn’t hit me, you… thwapped me.”

Spencer loosed a shaky sigh, “I’m not so sure that’s better.”

“Would you prefer bonked?” You proposed, looking at him and hoping for a small smile, but being disappointed when you were met with the same haunted expression. “It was an accident,” you insisted, reaching out your unoccupied hand and taking his hand in yours, “I am fine.”

He scoffed dismissively, “I should have had a better handle on myself.”

You frowned, “You were asleep, Spence. You couldn’t have had a better handle on yourself. It wasn’t on purpose, and you’re taking care of me now,” you told him softly.

“But you’re scared of it happening again,” he challenged you.

When he had come home, you knew he had been changed. Not necessarily for the better or for worse, but he was most certainly changed. You had heard everything in bits and pieces, what had happened in Millburn, what had happened with Cat, but nothing had prepared you for the harshness of your new reality. He was capable of harming others, but that didn’t mean you thought he’d hurt you again. “You’re disappointed in yourself, but you don’t believe you get to feel that way. You’re projecting onto me,” you told him, taking your hand back.

Spencer flinched back, “Don’t profile me.”

“You, Spencer Reid, would never knowingly lay a hand on me,” you insisted, you believed it. You believed it even if he didn’t believe it himself.

The two of you sat in an angst-filled silence before he stood up straight, gently starting to usher you into the bedroom. Handing you a t-shirt from your drawer to change into, you could see his internal struggle as he grabbed a pillow from the bed and made his way toward the door.

Despondently, your shoulders slumped forward, “Where are you going?” You asked softly, hating to watch him leave your shared bedroom over this.

“I’m sleeping on the couch. I’m gonna… I’ll try to set up a meeting with my therapist in the morning. I just…” his voice trailed off as he looked at you with wide, sad eyes, “You’re okay?”

Your heart ached at his voice as you nodded, opening your arms for him and letting out a sigh of relief when he returned to you for a hug. Reaching your free hand behind him, you rubbed his back comfortingly, “We’re going to make it through this, mark my words.”

He nodded in affirmation as he pulled away, “For my own peace of mind, I’ll sleep on the couch for a while.”

You accepted it, knowing that he needed to deal with this in his own way, he closed the door behind him, effectively leaving you alone. Laying back on the pillows with your icepack still clutched to your face, you sighed, wondering how long it had been since your boyfriend felt any semblance of peace of mind.

[gothghostiie]

Hey! I've just had a thought that could be fun. What if, as a joke, reader steals the 141 boys (any/all of them) dogtags and then, after a few days starts wearing them in front of them? I feel like there would be repercussions

oh there are most certainly repercussions

cw: mention of spanking, poly!141 at the end

Soap gets straight up mad when he can't find them - fussing for days because he swears they were just on his dresser and he has no idea where else they could be. grumpy until he sees them around your neck. you can barely even register it when he pulls you aside the next time you're alone, cornering you. he grabs the tags with 3 fingers, chuckling lowly and shaking his head. "think you're funny, dontcha?" all that leaves your lips is a little chuckle before he pulls you in by the chain and kisses you.

Gaz is rather calm at first. notices the next morning and checks everywhere, going to have breakfast when he doesn't find anything. but when you take a seat across from him, dogtags dangling from your neck he takes a closer look; chuckling when he sees they're his. shaking his head amd biting his lip slightly. "you're unbelievable.." he chuckles, giving you a look that undeniably tells you to come to his room later; and you sure as fuck do - you're about to find out how they look dangling from your neck instead of his.

Price is suspicious - he does tend to misplace things but he usually finds them again; not this time though. he's in his office, still wondering where the hell they went as he does paperwork - but his confusion is immediately cleared up when you walk in, wearing the tags around your neck. he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he eyes you over. let's you speak what you wanted before motioning for you to come over with one finger, tapping the metal with it. "naughty, stealing from me like that. should put you over my knee for that.

ghost definitely knows someone took them. he only takes them off to shower, if at all and he knows it couldn't have been a lot of people. but the second he sees you walk past him he sees the tags, scoffing in amusement unfer his breath as he follows after you. grabbing you by the back of your neck with his big hand, grip just tight enough to make you gasp softly. he keeps walking with you, redirecting you to his room while leaning down slightly to whisper in your ear. "little magpie, ain'tcha?"

but when you do it to all 4? jesus. I'm thinking you'd do gaz and soap first, they don't quite bat an eye at you. they think they just misplaced them at the same time. however when you steal price's they get suspicious. they don't necessarily think it was you, but it is a little strange that 3 have vanished by now. when ghosts goes too they know something is up, and when they see you wearing them they know what happened. I hope youre prepared, cause when you're called into the next meeting it sure as fuck won't he just talking.

[f1fantasys]

Another day, another shitshow, another fuck

Summary - post Monza angst and smut. FUCK YOU MCLAREN.

Warnings - filthy smut, fingering, oral, m and f receiving, blowjob, p in v sex, over stimulation, anal, squirting, swearing.

3.6K+

Should you be surprised that it was another shit race for Lando? Where his team, and teammate fucked him over again? No.

Did it hurt? Yes.

It hurt like hell to see Lando put in that position again. Were Mclaren so fucking blind that they couldn't see it was ONLY Lando who was in contention for the driver's championship?

Yes, the team need each other. Every single person is a valuable part to winning the Constructors Championship, but to see the way they were literally shoving Lando and his chances of the dc to the side - you were no okay with.

Before the summer break, Hungary was a shitshow. His team manipulated Lando and guilt-tripped him to give up the win. Saying ''the way to win a championship is not alone'' He literally gifted his teammate a win, and had to take the brunt of it, losing out every precious point more he would have scored to close the gap to Max.

Now today, all Lando spoke about was getting a 1-2 for the team, yet his teammate only talked about winning. Where were the team orders today? Where did the words from Hungary disappear to?

All you know is that Lando deserved better, instead of getting fucked time and time again when he is driving at his best and doing everything he can to be the team player and fight for his own title which he's dreamed about every sine he was a little boy.

You couldn't attend Monza as you'd just flown back to Monaco from a modeling job in Brazil. You'd landed just in time to watch the race, screaming at the tv and heart aching for what Lando had to go through because of his ''team''

When the race ended and you saw how defeated Lando looked, you'd sent him a message saying you were home and that you loved him, knowing a simple message like that would calm him down and tell him you're there for him.

A few hours later, as you were just chilling in the living room watching some tv, you heard the front door open. You shot up and winced when you saw Lando walk through the door, your heart clenching at the sight of him.

He looked tired, frustrated, angry, sad, helpless. The list goes on. He had a pair of joggers with an oversized quadrant hoodie on, cap hiding his precious curls as his eyes were red and swollen, face drained of his usual brightness.

''Lan, baby'' you whispered as you walked up to him, watched him drop his bags and take his cap off.

He looked at you, his face softening when he saw you, as you enveloped him in a tight hug, trying to pour all of your love for him into it.

You soothed his back and played with the hair at the back of his neck and Lando buried his head in the crook of your neck, breathing deep and staggered.

''I'm here, just breathe. Gonna all be okay Lan'' you said, trying to find the words to calm him down though it would take some time.

''I know, thank you'' he whispered, pulling back and kissing you gently as he cupped your face.

''Missed you'' he said, hugging you again.

''Missed you too my love. Wanna go shower and have something to eat? Just cuddle after?'' you asked, knowing thats' what he always wanted after a bad race.

''Yeah'' he said quietly before retreating to the bedroom while you ordered some food for the both of you.

You didn't press him at first, to start talking about today, or anything at all. He'd asked how your week was and that was it. Comfortable silence through dinner. Once you'd both eaten as much pizza as you could, you watched some more tv in silence, until your nerves gave up and you had to say something.

You pulled back from where you were cuddling Lando at his side and gently looked at him, hoping your eyes would tell him to please open up to you.

''Talk to me Lan'' you said.

He licked his lips. ''Not much to say really. Just fuck up after fuck up''

You sighed. You didn't want to show him pity, because that was the last thing he needed. But you told him how ''he needed to stop blaming himself and see that it was his team and teammate, as usual,'' and that ''you knew he did everything he could to give it his all, how he is driving at his best and it will all pay off soon, he just needs to give it time''

''Thank you baby, really, i don't know what I'd do without you. I love you so much'' he said once you'd finished talking about the shitshow.

You leaned forward, pecking his nose. ''I love you too Lan, always''

You cuddled up again and watched something random again, just content to be with each other.

Lando had his arms wrapped around you, drawing lazy circles on your legs until his hands kept itching closer and closer to your core which was getting wetter and wetter with each movement. You didn't move or say anything though. You wanted him to carry on as he pleased, and use you as a distraction from everything.

He could probably feel your breathing increase though, and finally a few minutes later he let his hand slip into your sleep shorts, pushing your panties to the side and letting his fingers run through your folds.

Your breath hitched when he did that, and you opened your legs wider to give him better access, the both of you still not saying anything but letting your actions speak for themselves.

Your back was to Lando's chest, so he rested his chin on your shoulder as his fingers found your clit and started rubbing rough circles on it, pinching it now and then.

You closed your eyes, suppressing your moans, which Lando quickly told you not to hold in. ''Let them out baby, let me hear you'' he whispered din your ear.

So you did. When you felt his calloused index finger slide through your hole you let out a guttural moan, grinding yourself down on him as he added a second finger, thrusting them in and out hard and fast.

''Oh Lan, yes'' you whispered between breaths as he started nibbling on your sweet spot on your neck.

You were close, your body tensing at the feeling of a warmth starting to build up in your tummy and you realized you needed something to hold onto, so naturally, your hand found Lando's bulge, which by now had grown hard. You palmed him through his shorts, feeling his body jolt up with the contact.

''Fuck, y/n'' he said through gritted teeth.

''Lan I'm close, please'' you begged.

So he sped up his movements, fucking his fingers into you and curling them at just right time, sending you into an orgasmic bliss as your cum gushed all over Lando's fingers, messing your panties and shorts in the process.

''Fuck, god, Lando'' you breathed out, trying to steady it as much as you could to catch your breath again. You let your body fall back onto Lando's, only realizing now just how tense you'd gotten with his actions.

He slid his fingers out, bringing them up to his lips and licking them clean. ''My favorite'' he whispered.

Your cunt was still desperate for more, achingly clenching around nothing, and at the same time you could feel Lando's dick twitching him his shorts, also begging for attention.

Just as you were about to sink down onto your knees as give him some relief, Lando's words shook you to your core.

''Can I fuck you?'' he asked

Your brain was fizzled. Why was he asking? He knew he could do whatever the fuck he wanted with you, but also did he feel so reserved or upset that he felt the need to ask?

''Yes'' you said, eagerly, not caring how desperate you sounded, getting up form your position and watching how his eyes darkened when he saw you take off all your clothes and standing bare in front of him.

You stood there as Lando shamelessly let his eyes roam your body, licking his lips when they stopped at your dripping pussy.

He pulled you onto his lap, grabbing your face for a feverish kiss, not wasting time to let his tongue slip into your mouth as his hands wandered all over your body.

You kissed him back with as much urgency, as you let yourself grind on his thigh.

Lando let out a series of grunts as he looked down and saw the wet patch on his shorts that you left.

''Still wearing too many clothes baby'' you said, already working on taking his tshirt off as he raised his hips off the couch to rid his shorts.

Once he was finally as naked as you, you finally got onto your knees on the carpet, sitting between his legs and you took his thick girth and gave him a few pumps.

Lando's back arched off the couch as he settled his arms behind his head, resting it back and openly letting pornographic moans leave his mouth.

The noises he made as you took his tip into your mouth to suck on had you clenching your thighs together, you were sure you could cum by just listening.

You fondled with his balls as you pushed his cock further into your mouth until he was hitting the back of your throat, as you started a steady rhythm so fucking him in and out.

You looked up to see he has his eyes closed, mouth agape and he continued to let himself be heard, hips thrusting up every now and then at how sensitive he was everything his slit touched your throat.

''Fuckin hell, so good'' he mumbled, more to himself as you sped up your pace, eager to taste him.

Lando eventually bought his hands down to hold onto your face, thrusting his hips up to fuck himself into your mouth.

By now you were gagging around him, spit messing your chin and dripping down onto your thighs. Looking at that alone and hearing the sloppy sounded you were making was enough to push Lando over the edge.

He groaned as his dick twitched uncontrollably, his cum blasting out of him down your throat as his hold on your hair tightened.

You moaned at the salty taste of Lando as he praised your name like a mantra, praised you at how well you took him.

He let his body relax back, chest heaving as he was slowly coming down from his high when he finally opened his eyes and saw you still on your knees, wiping your chin with the back of your hand as your own breathing at reached new heights.

''Come here'' he said softly, pulling you onto his lap and cupping your face, gently this time, peppering your face in wet kisses as he finally licked your chin clean of the mixture of spit and cum.

He tucked your hair behind your ears as he bit down on your lower lip, feeling your grind yourself on him once again.

''Need to feel you love. Gonna let me fuck you now yeah?'' he said.

You loved when he spoke to you like that, used his words like that.

You quickly nodded your head, ''Please Lando'' you begged.

''Ride me first then I'll take you from behind?'' he asked again.

You didn't respond verbally though. You just braced your hands on his shoulders as Lando pumped himself a few times, running his cock through your folds before settling at your hole, letting you sink down on him fully in a single thrust.

Your foreheads were resting against each other as the feeling of pain and pleasure overtook your body, letting out rhythmic moans as your walls clenched around Lando.

''Fuck'' he breathlessly cooed as you bit down on your lower lip.

''Hmm'' was all you managed back.

Once your body was used to the intrusion, (you always had to have some time because Lando was bigger than average and it was stung bad at first) you lifted yourself up before slammed back down again, and you continued that rhythm as a string of obscene moans left both yours and Lando's mouths.

His hand were planted tightly on your hips, guiding your movements of riding his thick pole up and down as you couldn't help but lean down and take one his nipples into your mouth, moaned at how it felt to have it in you mouth as you bit and sucked on it. That had Lando a whining mess.

''My brat, so filthy. So fucking dirty'' he mumbled through gritted teeth, spit flying through his mouth as he said it.

Your pace was raw, riding him like your life depended on it, when Lando bought his hand down and let his fingers toy with your clit, quickly edging you on.

''Fuck Lando I'm gonna cum'' you said, panting in his face as his eyes were stuck on yours, growing darker with every thrust.

''Do it'' he said, sternly. The raspiness and hoarseness of his voice only turning you on as you leaned down and locked lips with his in a harsh kiss, both your tongues everywhere, so unable to even have a proper kiss - just licks and nips of each others mouth.

The moment he pinched your slit through his fingers, you were a shuddering mess in his arms. Your body shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through you, gushing your fluids onto Lando's dick, now running down your thighs and his as he took control of fucking himself into you.

''How do you manage to cum so violently baby? Are you okay?'' he asked, concerned etched on his face as he was always so shocked at how much cum you mustered up. Though not concerned enough to stop fucking you!

You breathed heavy, trying to talk and failing to do so he slowed his movements slightly.

''Fuck it you Lan, you don't know what you do to me'' you said, smirking at thinking how this will boost his ego.

''Yeah?'' he asked, picking up his pace again.

''Uh huh. All you'' you said, trying to keep up with him though your body was like jelly.

He sensed your weakness and gently pulled you up, man-handling your body to lay down on the couch as he placed himself between your legs, spreading them wide open before pushing his angry dick back into you, relentlessly chasing his own high now.

You shut your eyes and bit your lip when Lando leaned down and roughly sucked on your nipple, showing it no pity. Your hands found his hair, pulling at and tugging it roughly.

Lando continued his onslaught as his words started again. He was whispering how to were such a fucking good girl for letting him use you as a slut, taking his thick dick so nice, how one day he was gonna fuck a baby into you, how you'd be only his whore forever, and no one would ever get to know how good you are, how you ruined sex for him.

His words were quick to have you shaking underneath him again, an orgasmic bliss taking over your body as you were sure you would black out with the pace he was still going at.

''Uh fuck Lando, fuck me, oh god, please'' you moaned and begged, not sure what for.

He laughed, for the first time since the race ended. ''I am fucking you baby, and you're doing so good for me. I fucking love you so much'' he mumbled, putting pressure on your clit, sending you into yet another orgasm, fluids gushing out of your body uncontrollably.

Lando slowed his movements. ''Still want you form the back, get up'' he ordered. And as much as your body felt like it couldn't move, he made you move and positioned you nicely for himself, you were on your elbows, with your ass in the air and Lando sat on his heels and pumped himself a few times, letting his spit drop down onto this cock to lube himself before he finally pushed into your ass hole.

''Fucking love anal with you baby. So fucking hot'' he said through gritted teeth.

He pushed in all the way and by now words had long left your brain. All you could do was hold onto the pillow as tight as you could and shut your eyes, let them roll to the back of your head as Lando used you how he pleased.

You couldn't even muster up any energy to let any moans leave your mouth, so all you could do was pant and let out shaky breaths, with a few tears rolling down your cheeks.

Lando had pulled your body up, so you were leaning back against him and his hands snaked around to your front and squeezed and pulled at your boobs as he still slammed in and out of you.

''Lan, love you but I-I''

''Yes you can'' you interrupted, leaving open mouthed kisses along your neck and collarbone.

Within seconds he'd sent you over the edge again, body quivering in his arms as he slowed his movements again, riding you through your orgasm.

''Lan''

''I know baby. One more, yeah? For me?''

How could you not when he was talking to you like that?

You nodded, and he handled your body once again and lay down on the couch, resuming his place from earlier and slowly, painfully almost, gliding his cock through your cunt again.

You held your breath, unsure how your body was gonna take it because as good as it felt, you were sore everywhere.

''You're so good. Such a good brat. One more baby, then we're done'' he said, leaning down to kiss you softly, though the bottom part of his body (and yours) was everything but soft. He ruthlessly slammed in and out of your core as you were starting to see stars now.

''Hm Lando wha-I-I'' you couldn't even form words now. Your body was on overdrive and you swear you were starting to feel things you'd never felt. You couldn't even describe what you were feeling when he asked you.

But just as his dick hit over G-spot over and over and over again, your body gave way and all of a sudden you were squirting, left right and center, unable to control it.

When Lando released what was happening, he couldn't stop his own dick from twitching unexplainably harshly, shooting ropes and ropes of milky white cum deep within you.

''FUCK, Y/N WHAT!?'' he exclaimed, unable to stop himself from shouting it out as he couldn't believe it was actually happening.

You though - you were in a state of bliss. Body tingling and fluttering as you just experienced squirting for the first time, and boy did it feel fucking amazing.

As Lando finally came down from your involuntary actions, he was quick to pull out of you and lean down, slurping and swallowing at every bit of juice and liquid your body just gave out.

His tongue on your pussy sent waves of pleasure and when he slid it through your hole, without really knowing what was happening, you ended up cumming AGAIN.

''Fuck LANDO!'' you shouted, not caring if your neighbors could hear you.

He blew some cool air over your cunt as he pulled back and gave you a sheepish smile.

''Sorry couldn't help myself'' he said, breathless as you were.

He let his weigh collapse onto your body and you arms wrapped around him tightly, trying to calm the both of you down though you were starting to shiver at the cold air hitting you sweaty skin.

Lando's curls were stuck on his forehead as your brushed them up and ran you hand through his hair.

''I've always said it and i will continue to. You are out of this world y/n. Fucking incredible in every fucking way. How the hell are you so good at making me feel this good? And I'm sorry - but you squirting is the single most hottest fucking thing you've ever done.'' he said, kissing you straight away and not giving you time to respond.

When he pulled back, you couldn't help but chuckle.

''Lan, you don't get it. Its the effect you have on me. You seriously have no idea what you do to my insides when you talk act, do anything for that matter. You'd just the most amazing person i know inside and out and just the thought of you does crazy things to me. Don't get even me started on what you make me feel when we fuck. It's unlike anything I've ever felt and i wouldn't have it any other way.''

''I don't know what i did to deserve you, but i love you so so much'' he whispered.

''I love you too baby. But promise me one thing. You wont let that asshole of a team bring you done. You need to know how fucking talented and incredible you are and will always be. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise. If they do, they'll have to come through me and i will crush them. But seriously, you are the best out there and i promise the good times will come, you will always be MY world champion. Forget what everyone else says. I love you so much.

''Thank you'' he whispered softly again.

The rest of the night was spent in bed with lazy kisses and dare you say more when you say Lando made you squirt again the next morning ;)