#LOVE HAS MOVED HIM. IT HAS MADE HIM SPEAK

[p1psqueaks]

LOVE AND DEEPSPACE — HE ALMOST LOSES YOU FOR GOOD

a/n: here's the angst you all voted for <3 i am not entitled to any and all emotional compensation

ZAYNE

The hospital room is sterile. Dim. The kind of place that muffles even time.

Machines beep in soft, steady rhythms, a cruel imitation of life. And in the center of it all, you lie motionless. Bruised and bandaged, wires and tubes snaking from your body like ivy trying to hold you here. Like even the machines are begging you not to let go.

Zayne doesn’t say a word.

He sits by your bedside with his hands clasped tightly around yours, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. There’s dried blood under his fingernails. Not yours. Not his. Someone else’s. It doesn't matter. Nothing does right now except the weak pulse beneath his fingertips and the raspy rise and fall of your chest.

You’d been gone too long on the mission. Comms lost. Then the call came. Injured. Critical. Zayne had made it to the hospital faster than anyone could track his movements. Like some primal force had torn him through the world just to reach you.

He hadn’t let go of your hand since.

He doesn’t blink as he watches your face. There’s no outward panic in his expression — Zayne never shows that — but his jaw is locked so tight it looks like his teeth might crack. His knuckles are white. Every so often, his fingers tremble. He tells himself it’s fatigue. He tells himself it’s nothing.

But inside, he’s cracking.

“You’re stronger than this,” he murmurs. His voice is gravel, low and rough like it hurts to speak. “You’ve survived worse.”

The door opens quietly. A nurse slips in to check your vitals. Zayne doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. Just keeps holding your hand like if he lets go, you’ll slip through the cracks in the world. Like he’s the only thing tethering you here.

Then everything starts to go wrong.

It begins with a blip. One shrill, high-pitched note that slices through the room.

The machines shriek. Lights flash. Your body arches once, violently, and then collapses like the life is draining from it. Code blue echoes down the hallway as a team rushes in like a tidal wave. Hands everywhere. Orders shouted.

Zayne stands in a heartbeat. But he doesn’t let go.

“Sir, you have to leave—”

“No.” His voice is calm, deadly. Final.

Two nurses try to pry him back. One grabs his shoulder, another his arm. He tightens his grip on your hand like it’s the last lifeline he has.

“She needs space, Zayne!” a doctor yells, panic spiking. “We need to shock — move him!”

And finally, they drag him back.

Zayne stumbles, not because he trips, but because his legs don’t want to leave you. His hand is ripped from yours like tearing velcro from a wound. The doors slam in his face.

And he’s alone.

Alone with nothing but the glass window and the chaos beyond it. He presses both palms to it, leaning forward, forehead against the cold surface. His breath fogs the glass.

"Don’t do this," he whispers, more to himself than to anyone else. "Don’t you dare."

Inside, your body jerks with each charge. CPR. Adrenaline. Voices barking numbers he can’t make sense of. One of the nurses glances at the window and sees him — sees the man who always has it together, now looking like he might fall apart if they lose you.

Zayne’s fists press to the glass. His lips move, no sound comes out.

Then—

The shrill flatline halts. Beeps begin again. Slow, weak… but there.

A pulse.

Zayne’s breath catches so sharply it’s like someone stabbed him with relief. He staggers back half a step before dragging his hand down his face, eyes red, though no tears fall.

The door doesn’t open. No one waves him in. But he sees the doctor nod faintly. You’re alive. Barely.

And that’s all he needs.

Hours pass. Maybe more. They finally let him back in once you’re stabilized. You’re still unconscious, but you’re breathing on your own now. The bruises still paint your skin in sick colors, but your chest rises without machine aid.

Zayne sits beside you again, hands folded in his lap this time, like he doesn’t trust himself to touch you just yet.

“I thought I lost you.” The whisper breaks through the silence, rougher than before. “I never panic. You know that. But when I saw that line go flat...”

His voice breaks.

Just a crack.

But it’s there.

He bows his head, resting it on the edge of the bed, eyes closed. One hand finds yours again, hesitant at first, then firm.

“I can’t do this without you. So don’t you dare make me.”

A moment of silence.

Then — your hand twitches.

It’s small. A flicker. But it’s real.

Zayne jerks up. His eyes dart to your face. And for the first time in what feels like a lifetime… you groan.

Weak. Barely audible.

He releases a shuddering breath, and it almost sounds like a laugh. But it’s wet, broken. He brings your hand to his lips and presses it there for a moment, breathing you in like proof.

You’re not safe yet. It’s still touch and go. But you’re here.

XAVIER

You don’t remember falling.

Not the explosion. Not the heat. Not the way your body hit the earth with a sickening thud.

But you do remember the voice.

“Stay with me. Please — stay…”

You remember that voice breaking in a way you’ve never heard it before. And you remember the warmth of lips pressed to your temple, trembling hands brushing blood and ash from your cheek. The words that tumbled out didn’t sound like him. Not the Xavier you knew — always so reserved, so gentle, so soft in his restraint.

This Xavier? He was on fire.

———

When the other Hunters arrived at the edge of the smoking field, the world had gone too still.

The enemy had been neutralized, but the cost — the cost was crumpled in Xavier’s arms.

Your body was splayed across his lap, your suit torn, chest rising only in shallow, ragged jerks. Blood coated your side — too much of it. Your hand hung limp, fingers curled around nothing. Debris lay scattered like forgotten pieces of a battle that should’ve ended differently.

And Xavier — Xavier was hunched over you like he could shield you from death itself.

“Come on, come on, please — just stay with me,” he whispered, again and again, his forehead pressed to yours, his glasses crooked and fogged. His voice was hoarse, as if he’d been screaming but had run out of air. “You promised you wouldn’t do something like this again. You promised.”

He didn’t notice Jenna approaching until the captain stopped a few feet away, boots crunching softly over broken glass and scorched dirt.

“Xavier.”

No answer.

“Xavier, the med evac is en route. Let me—”

“No.” His arms tightened around you, voice sharp for the first time in hours. “She’s still breathing.”

Xavier didn’t care who saw him now.

He cradled your head in his hand, the pad of his thumb brushing your temple in an endless rhythm like a lifeline. “You’re going to be okay. Just stay awake. Stay with me. You hear me?”

Your body didn’t respond. But your lashes fluttered for half a second, and Xavier choked on a sound that might have been a sob.

“I can’t—” he whispered, voice cracking. “I can’t do this without you.”

His lips brushed your temple again. He wasn’t even aware he was doing it. Again and again. Like a prayer. Like the universe would listen if he just repeated it enough.

“Come back to me. Please.”

It wasn’t a demand. Not even a request.

It was a beg.

And for a man like Xavier — a man who spoke more with his silences than words — to fall apart like this? It shook everyone to their core.

The others quietly made space around him. Not one of them dared interrupt. Because in that moment, there were no ranks, no roles. Just one boy, desperately trying to hold his world together before it slipped from his fingers.

RAFAYEL

You didn’t hesitate.

The moment the sniper’s scope glinted from the rooftop across the gallery, you moved — muscles fueled by instinct, not thought.

The shot rang out.

And you were already there. Between him and the bullet.

The impact knocked you backward into Rafayel’s chest with brutal force. You didn’t even feel the pain at first. Just pressure. Heat. Then cold. Your legs crumpled, and he caught you as you fell.

His hands were around your waist before he even realized why they were wet.

“Hey,” he breathed, looking down.

And then he saw it.

The blood.

Dark, thick, and seeping far too fast through the back of your uniform. His gloves were stained. His fingers trembled.

His heart stopped.

“No — no, no, no—” His voice broke as he sank to the ground with you still in his arms, cradling you like you were something made of porcelain. “You didn’t just — you idiot, why would you—?!”

Your head lolled against his shoulder. You tried to smile.

“Instinct,” you murmured weakly. “It’s… what I do.”

“Not for me.” His voice cracked. “Not for me. Not if it means this.”

You blinked slowly, lashes fluttering like paper-thin wings. “You’re safe. That’s all I… that’s all I need.”

“No, no, don’t say it like that. Don’t say it like we’re done—” His hands gripped your face, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the panic in his movements. “Look at me. Look at me. Don’t you dare look away.”

Your eyes were struggling now. Heavy. Too heavy.

“Raf…” you whispered, voice catching. “You’re… crying…”

He didn’t notice. Or maybe he didn’t care. The tears were falling freely now, carving silent trails down his cheeks. You weren't sure if it was due to the blood loss, but his tears looked ethereal, something akin to pearls.

His breath came in ragged, shallow bursts. His usual poise — gone. His charm — shattered. All that was left was a man breaking open in real time, clutching the person he thought he'd never lose again.

“You don’t get to do this,” he whispered, forehead pressed to yours, nose brushing your temple. “You don’t get to leave me again. Not after last time. Not after everything.”

“I’m… sorry…”

“Don’t say sorry. Say you’ll stay.”

You were cold. He could feel it — through the warmth of his body pressed to yours, your skin had gone frighteningly still.

“Say it,” he begged, his voice growing hoarse. “Say you’ll stay. Lie to me if you have to. I’ll take anything. Anything.”

Your hand twitched in his.

Just barely.

And he held on like it was the last real thing in the world.

The were others that arrived seconds later — shouting, movement, chaos. Rough, barked orders. The paramedic's hands on the wound. Thomas' voice trembling as he called for med evac.

But Rafayel never let go. He wouldn’t let go.

Even as they tried to lift you onto the stretcher, he held your hand like it was the only lifeline keeping him from collapsing.

“You stay, you hear me?” he murmured, lips brushing your knuckles. “You’re mine. You’re my light. Don’t you dare take that from me.”

They pulled him back.

He followed the stretcher all the way to the transport, ignoring the blood on his clothes, the way his legs threatened to buckle beneath him.

You had protected him with your life.

And now, he would use his to fight for yours

SYLUS

The lights in the bar were soft and golden, warm against the sound of clinking glasses and smooth jazz that curled through the air like lazy smoke. Sylus was lounging at the booth across from you, a smirk dancing at the edge of his lips, one arm thrown over the back of the booth like he owned the place.

You were laughing at something he said — something teasing and perfectly crafted to make your cheeks warm — when the first shot shattered the glass behind you.

Everything went still.

Then it exploded into chaos.

Screams. Panic. More gunfire. The crowd scattered in a storm of bodies and overturned tables. Sylus was on his feet in a second, hand moving to his holster, eyes scanning with razor focus—

Until he turned and saw you collapse.

Your body hit the floor with a sickening thud, a flash of red blooming against your side.

His mind blanked.

“No — no, no, no — hey!” He was already kneeling beside you, hands trembling as they hovered over your wound. Blood seeped fast through your shirt, hot and slick against his skin. “Damn it, this isn’t funny. Get up.”

You blinked slowly, pain blooming in every nerve, and tried to smile. “Guess I… ruined the mood, huh?”

“Shut up,” he snapped — only his voice cracked halfway through, sharp and raw. “Don’t joke like that.”

His usual arrogance, that swagger, the way he always acted like the world bent to his will — it was gone. Torn away like your breath was from your lungs.

You reached for him, your hand barely lifting before it dropped again.

“Sylus…”

He scooped you into his arms in one clean motion, ignoring the pain that flared in his knees as he pushed off the floor. His grip was tight — too tight — but he didn’t care. You were bleeding. Your breath was shallow. And you were too damn still.

“Stay with me,” he said, voice low but frantic, slipping through gritted teeth. “You don’t get to leave me here, not now. We aren’t supposed to end like this.”

Your head lulled against his shoulder. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t you dare say sorry,” he growled. “Save your breath. You can apologize when you’re yelling at me again tomorrow.”

The remaining attackers were either down or retreating. Luke and Kieran were clearing the room. But Sylus didn’t look at them. Didn’t ask for help. He carried you through the smoke and broken glass like you were the only thing anchoring him to reality.

Blood soaked through his shirt, warm against his chest. His jaw clenched so tight it ached. His signature smirk — now a ghost.

“I should’ve seen it coming,” he murmured, forehead brushing yours. “I let my guard down. I let you down.”

“Don’t say that…” you whispered.

“Why not?” he hissed. “I’m always talking. Always running my mouth like nothing can touch me. Like nothing touches you. But look at you. Look at you.”

Your eyes fluttered. “Still…handsome, though.”

A broken sound escaped him — half laugh, half sob.

“Of course you’d say that now.”

You were slipping again. He could feel it.

“No,” he said, firmer this time, the weight in his voice shaking with each syllable. “You listen to me. You are not going out like this. Not in some second-rate ambush at a bar I don’t even like. You owe me a better ending than this.”

Your breathing was faltering.

And Sylus’s heart was plummeting with every stuttering beat.

“Don’t make me beg,” he whispered, trembling now. “Don’t make me— please. I’ll give you anything. Everything. Just open your eyes.”

As soon as his body was through the familiar doors of his apartment, Sylus collapsed onto the floor, hands gripping your skin so tight it left imprints — a physical manifestation of just how close he was to teetering off the edge.

"Sweetie, please," he rasped, fingers desperately — blindly — for the rhythmic beat just under your jaw, a sign that you were still here, still with him.

Then came guttural noise that came out his mouth when he finally found it.

You were alive. Barely. But alive all the same.

CALEB

He had lost people before.

That was the reality of command. Of war. Of the Farspace Fleet.

Caleb had saluted coffins, sent letters to families, given orders that cost lives. He had smiled through the ache, cracked jokes at funerals to keep others from crying, swallowed guilt like medicine that never worked.

But not you.

He was never supposed to lose you.

———

The report came in during a skirmish.

It was brief. Incomplete. Chaotic.

“Alpha Team down. Casualties unknown—[static]—one Hunter critically injured. Confirmed ID: [static]—[Your Name].”

He stopped breathing.

The world blurred around him. Voices, orders, lights — they faded into background noise. All he heard was your name and the word critically.

He was running before he realized it. Shouting. Pushing past medical teams. Hands trembling as he shoved through the infirmary doors and—

There you were. Unmoving. Broken.

Hooked to machines that breathed for you, pale against the stark white sheets, red still seeping through the bandages wrapped around your torso.

Caleb froze.

It felt like the floor had vanished beneath him.

“Colonel.” A medic’s voice. “You shouldn’t be here—”

“Don’t.”

His tone cut through the air like a blade. The medic stopped mid-sentence.

Caleb stepped forward, slow, like every inch was agony. He reached for your hand, then stopped, hovering.

You looked… gone.

“Hey,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Hey, Pipsqueak. What the hell is this, huh?”

He sat beside your bed, hands finally closing around yours.

“You’re not allowed to go before I do,” he said, trying to smile — but his voice cracked. “That’s the deal. I get the cool, tragic hero exit, and you get to roll your eyes and talk about how dramatic I am at my own funeral.”

No answer. Just the quiet beep of your heart monitor.

Caleb let out a shaky breath. “You always made fun of me for being too sentimental. Said I wear my heart too loud. Maybe that’s true. But it’s yours. Always been yours.”

Tears welled in his eyes before he could stop them.

And this time, he didn’t.

“You should’ve seen me when the call came in. I broke rank. I barked orders like a lunatic. I left my post. They’re probably writing up the paperwork for insubordination right now.”

He laughed — sharp, broken.

Then silence.

A long, still silence that stretched until it hurt.

He squeezed your hand harder.

“I’ve lost good soldiers,” he whispered. “Too many. But you weren’t just another name in my report. You weren’t just a Hunter. You’re…”

His voice faltered again. His lips parted, trying to shape the truth, but it hurt too much.

“You’re my heart.”

A soft tremor ran through his shoulders. He dropped his forehead to your hand, clutching it like it could keep him from unraveling.

“You can’t do this to me. I wasn’t ready. I’m not ready to lose you. I’ll never be ready.”

He didn’t know how long he stayed there—murmuring, begging, slipping confessions into the spaces between your breaths. Time didn’t exist in that room. Only fear. Only grief.

Only you.

Then—

A twitch.

Barely perceptible. But his breath hitched.

He looked up fast, wide-eyed. “Hey… hey, was that—?”

Your eyelids fluttered.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he whispered, voice catching like a prayer. “Come back to me. Just a little more.”

Your lips parted. A small sound escaped. A rasp. Not a word, but it was you.

Caleb exhaled a shuddering breath, a tear sliding down his cheek, one hand flying to brush your hair back from your face. “That’s it. You’re here. I’ve got you.”

You blinked up at him slowly. “C-Caleb…?”

He laughed — wet and breathless — and pressed your knuckles to his lips.

“Yeah, Pips. I’m here. And I’m not letting go.”

He didn’t care that he was crying. That he looked like a man torn in half and barely stitched together by hope.

You were alive.

And that was all he needed.

[tojisteddy]

Sukuna’s favorite part of the day is yours— when you get to dress him for the day.

Every morning is the same and Sukuna loves it that way.

He hears you when you quietly come in before dawn and sit on the floor, ideally waiting for him to call out to you to get his robe. But he grumbles maybe five or ten minutes later, turning in the bed, and motioning with his hand for you to come.

“Come here little one, let’s sleep more.”

And your heart beats outs out of your chest, coming over and laying on the bed. But he pulls you into his warm arms, an incoherent grumble leaving his pink lips as he cuddles his messy pink hair in the crook of your neck.

You’re not sure if he just likes your touch or not or if he sees you as a body pillow, but it makes your heart speed up nonetheless. You fall asleep not long after, waking up to the sun creeping in. That’s when you know it’s time to wake Sukuna up, you pat his back looking up at his handsome sleeping face.

“It’s time to wake up my lord,” you speak and it’s like music to his ears. But he mumbles something you can’t understand, but hes said ‘again’ he wants to hear your ever so melodic voice again. When you do, you quickly climb out off the large bed, grabbing the large black robe and slipping it on to him right as he stands from the bed.

He watches your every move as you make your away around the room, straight into the closet and coming out with his the attire he’ll wear today.

He’s practically silent as you prepare him for the day, still in a sleepy haze. But you move ever so meticulously, standing on the stool to properly dress him. Your hands are all over him, his black markings and tan skin, his muscles— you both love it. Smoothing out any wrinkles that may be on his yukata and tying them perfectly, big brown eyes taking in the God while correcting every crease of his attire and, getting down from the stool to style his pink locks.

His low red eyes watch you in the mirror, he asks, “And what will you do today, pet?”

Sukuna knows Uraume will give him his own run down of what he will do today as soon as he steps outside of his chambers, but he’d rather hear about what you’ll do for the meer short time you’re apart. The silly, fickle things he yearns to hear you talk about.

The simplicity of your life, he adores.

It’s still hard for you to wrap your head around it. Your role around the palace has- changed. Not title wise (officially) but you don’t take orders from anyone but the King of Curses.

You don’t help the other servant if you can’t squeeze in time to, you don’t wait outside his chambers for him to come back, you don’t go fetch as much for him because Sukuna believes you’re so fragile.

You’re Sukuna’s personal lap cat.

He tells you to go play when you’re done eating breakfast and cleaning his chambers— to enjoy yourself before he fetches to you be with him from lunch until the end of the night.

You don’t get it, but you try.

You think for a moment about his words— what to do today, what to do today-

“I-I think I’ll go to the library and then work on my kite in the garden.”

A kite, your brand new interest you’ve been absorbed in after reading about it. Sukuna told you he’d have 4 beautiful, professionally painted ones made specifically for you, but you told him you’d want to do it by yourself. It was harder than you thought, but it made you want your own work to sore with the clouds more and more.

Sickeningly adorable. What a hard working human. A wonderful mind.

“It will be fantastic pet. Show it to me soon, yes?”

And you bashfully nod, so sure of his words, your own tiny doubt flying away by his little encouragement.

The man stands from the mirror, all done with the preparation for the day and caresses your brown skin, cupping your cheek in his hand, then lifting you chin with his finger to look at him. He’s handsome as ever, he always is.

So astoundingly beautiful his little human was. He couldn’t get enough of you. Soon you’d be in his arms again. Maybe he’d send for you sooner. He always yearned for more time. A minute more, a second more.

“Be good for me pet.”

“Yes my lord.”

He walks away to the chamber doors, lower set of eyes stealing one last glance at you before opening them wide, closing them shut behind him. Walking right into his busy day.

And it’s the same every morning.

Sukuna loves it that way.

a/n: no one gives af but dude I love them.

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[ninisdollie]

‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❤︎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⊹　₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ͏͏✧ content: +18MDNI

fem! reader x K, established relationship, reader is smaller than K, dom! kei, he’s a bit mean, corruption kink, size kink, humiliation, objectification, dirty talking, unprotected sex, oral (m. rec), multiple positions, aftercare !!

warning: usage of degrading terms, reader only wants to please kei (but she likes it) i went a little insane with this one is short but so filthy idk, but as always everything is consensual !!

Kei was made to corrupt. 

He’s a dancer, one of the bests in his group. Performance leader, every move clean, precise, controlled. In the practice room, he gives commands to his members with strong voice, always expecting the best outcome. 

So naturally, in the bedroom, he expects nothing less. Kei doesn’t just fuck. He trains, he molds. He perfects. You’ve been his sweetest project since day one.

He knew it from the moment you looked up at him with that innocent face and soft little smile, asking him what he liked. You didn’t know what you were inviting. But he did. And he’s been slowly, thoroughly ruining you ever since.

“You’re lucky I’m patient,” he mutters one night, dragging you back onto his lap after you tried to play coy, tried to tease. His voice is calm but his grip is iron, hands already spreading you open, positioning you the way he likes. “But don’t test it, baby. You’re gonna get it right this time.”

His hands guide you like choreography, back arched, knees wide, chest flushed. One finger taps your chin. “Eyes on me.”

He watches everything. The way your thighs tremble. How you squirm when he speaks low in your ear. How your breath catches when his voice dips into something dark. “You want to be perfect for me, don’t you? Then shut up and listen.”

He teaches you how to touch yourself the way he likes to see it. Gives you exact instructions, and if you mess up? He starts over. Makes you beg to be taught again. There’s no mercy in his tone when you get bratty, just a tight grip on your wrists and a low command that makes your stomach drop. “Count your orgasms for me tonight,” he says as he slips two fingers inside, slowly, teasingly. “And don’t lose track, or we’ll start from zero.”

He trains your body like it’s his stage. Times your pleasure with his rhythm. Pushes you further every night. And when he finally fucks you, it’s with the same control and dominance he has on stage, each thrust deep and perfect, every moan of yours a note he meant to draw out. His hand around your throat, his breath hot against your lips.

“You’re doing better,” he praises darkly, voice breathless, fingers digging into your waist as you ride him just how he taught you. “So good for me. So filthy now, baby. You remember when you were shy?”

You nod, barely able to speak, and he smirks.

“I don’t. Not anymore. All I see now is a needy little slut who can’t breathe unless I tell her how.”

You love how bossy he is. How mean he gets when you mess up. How sweet he sounds when you finally get it right. He’s made you addicted to being good. To pleasing him. To performing for him.

You’re his perfect little project. And Kei? He’s not done perfecting you yet.

Sometimes he gets extra bossy. 

He stops mid-thrust, right when you were so close you could taste it, and pulls out with a sharp sigh. You blink at him, dazed and panting. “W-why’d you stop?” “You touched yourself without asking,” he says flatly, wiping his cock on your inner thigh like you’re nothing but a mess. “Did I say you could do that?” You shake your head, small and guilty, already squirming for more. “I give you an inch and you get cocky, huh?” he sneers, gripping your face. “You think this is about you? You don’t come unless I let you. Do it again and I’ll edge you ‘til you cry.” And you will cry, because when he denies you, he does it perfectly. Just enough to keep you desperate. Just enough to make you beg.

Sometimes he’ll make you perform, on your knees, tongue out, eyes up. “That’s not how I showed you,” he mutters, thumb tapping your bottom lip. “Do it slower. Deeper. No teeth.” You gag when he pushes in farther, and he moans, gripping your hair tighter. “There you go. Just like that. Finally learning.” His hips move lazily, but his voice is sharp. “You better not pull off. Keep that throat open. Let me use you.” And when you’re choking on him, tears streaming down your cheeks, he still holds your head in place, whispering, “You’re mine. My perfect little thing. You exist to please me. Remember that.”

When you get it right… he melts for you.

“Fuck,” he groans as you ride him, rhythm perfect, moaning just the way he likes. His hands grip your hips, hard, helping you bounce. “That’s it. That’s exactly what I want. You feel that? How deep I am inside you? That’s what a good girl gets.” He rewards you with praise, with pleasure, with everything you’ve been craving. “You take me so well now. Look at you. Thought you were shy when I met you—now you’re a filthy little thing trained to come on command.”

And you love it. Love the structure, the rules, the praise. Love how bossy he gets when you fuck up, how gentle he is after he ruins you, how obsessed he is with teaching you to be better.

You were innocent once. Not anymore.

Now? You’re Kei’s favorite thing to ruin.

You’re smaller than him in every way, and he adores it. Not just because it makes you easy to toss around, to fold in half, to bend over and press into the mattress, but because of how obedient you get when he handles you like that. “Such a delicate little thing,” he murmurs, voice thick with affection and lust as he lifts you up and spins you around, setting you on the edge of the bed like you're just a doll he’s placing for playtime. “You fit right in my hands.”

He’s not even trying to show off, but you feel the way his strength cages you in, his grip around your thighs, his fingers curled around your wrists, his broad chest at your back. And then he’s bending you forward with ease, arching your back with one hand and spreading your legs with the other. “There,” he says, adjusting you like you’re a pretty little toy. “Now stay like that for me, doll.”

Your cheeks burn. But your hips push back into him on instinct. You love it. Being put exactly where he wants you, letting him use your body like it belongs to him, because it does. “Such a good girl,” he purrs as he sinks into you, his hand gripping the nape of your neck to keep you in place. “My perfect little doll. So soft, so small—fuck, you take me so well.”

He moves you with practiced ease, folds you in half, lifts your leg over his shoulder, pulls you flush to his chest when he wants to feel you break on him. Every position is seamless because he controls it. He doesn’t even have to ask. “Let me hear you,” he says when you start whimpering under him, too far gone to speak. “Use your voice, baby. That’s what dolls like you are made for, isn’t it?”

And when you fall apart? He doesn’t stop. He praises you low in your ear, one hand slipping between your thighs. “There’s my girl. Look at you. So sweet for me. So easy to move, so easy to please. My tiny little thing—meant to be ruined, just like this.”

He handles you like his favorite toy. But never like you’re breakable. No, he wants to break you himself.

And when you’re sobbing into the pillows, shaking from how hard he’s made you come, he kisses your shoulder and whispers, “Such a perfect doll. I’m gonna keep you like this forever.”

Normally, Kei is gentle. He takes care of you. He wakes you up with soft kisses and whispers of “Good morning, pretty thing.” He feeds you bites of food between dance practices, rubs your back when you’re tired, presses kisses to your temple just because. You’re his girl, his baby.

But sometimes, you get bratty. And he can’t stand brattiness. 

So when you start teasing, the air changes immediately. 

“Excuse me?” Your stomach drops instantly. You try to giggle it off, act cute — “I was just playing, Kei—” But it's too late.

“Strip.” You blink. “Kei—” “Now.”

Your body moves before your brain could. You peel your clothes off, heart pounding, already feeling your stomach twist with heat and fear. You love it. But you know you’re about to suffer.

Once you’re bare, he grabs your jaw,  forcing you to look at him. “You like running your mouth?” he said, voice dangerously low. “Let’s see how smart you sound with my cock down your throat.” You gasp, and he is already pulling you to your knees on the floor. He doesn’t give you time to adjust. He taps the head of his cock against your lips and says, “Open. You wanna be a brat? Earn your place.” You take him in as deep as you can, and he groans, but doesn’t let you off easy. He pushes further, makes you gag, tears prickling your eyes. “Not so smug now, huh?” he mutters, thrusting in shallow rolls. “Look at you. Can’t even take my cock without crying.” You whine, hands clawing at his thighs, but he doesn’t stop. “This is what you’re good for,” he gritted. “A hole. My doll. My little fucktoy who can’t stop testing me ‘cause she loves getting punished.”

He says the nastiest things while he’s fucking you. Not sweet little praises, no, Kei likes it raw. Dirty. Vulgar. “Look at that,” he groans, watching the way you drip for him. “You’re soaking the sheets. All this mess just ‘cause I touched you?” “Didn’t even do anything yet and you’re already creaming. Such a desperate little hole.”

You gasp every time, but you love it. You love how mean and shameless he is in bed, how completely unfiltered he gets. Sometimes, he spits in your mouth while he’s fucking you, just to watch your pretty lips part automatically like you were made for it. Sometimes, he makes you ride him while he holds your hips still, just to laugh when you whimper, “Please move—Kei, please—” “Don’t you dare fucking touch yourself,” he growls when you reach between your legs. “You want to come? Beg for it. Say please. Say you’re my dirty little thing.”

You do. Every time.

Because Kei’s voice alone could make you fall apart. He’s obsessed with ruining you. Literally.

He loves fucking you when you’re already a mess, drooling, crying, twitching from the last orgasm, just to whisper things like: “You look so good like this. Fucked out, brainless. My dumb little doll, yeah?”

And he lives for making you repeat him.

“Say it. Say whose hole this is.” “Say what you want. Don’t be shy now — you weren’t shy when you were moaning like a slut five minutes ago.”

You say it, always.

Because when Kei gets like this, dominant, nasty, totally obsessed, you can’t think of anything else but pleasing him.

And he knows it.

But when he finishes, it’s like a switch turns off.

“Shh, I got you,” he murmurs, his voice warm and velvety, a soft rasp as he presses his chest to yours. “It’s okay now, baby. You did so good. So, so good for me.” He brushes your hair out of your face with the gentlest touch, thumb swiping the corner of your mouth.

You try to move, to say something, but your body isn’t cooperating, you’re too far gone, too sensitive and floating. Kei leans down and kisses your forehead, then your temple. A kiss to your cheek. Another at your shoulder. Each one a grounding point, little anchors pulling you back into his arms. “I know, I know,” he whispers, as if reading the overwhelm written in your breath. “You don’t have to talk, baby. Just let me take care of you now.”

He moves slowly, deliberately, never rushing. Even when his own body is trembling with exhaustion, even when his skin is damp with sweat and he’s still catching his breath, you are the priority. You always are. Kei slips out of bed quietly, grabbing a soft towel and warm water like it’s second nature. He’s so gentle when he comes back, knees pressing into the mattress, fingers cradling your thighs open with care.“Little sore?” he murmurs. You nod weakly. “Okay. I’ll be soft, promise.”

He cleans you up like you’re made of glass, whispering praises the whole time, “So pretty… such a good girl… let me make you comfortable, yeah?”, and kisses the inside of your knee when you flinch.

Once he’s done, he disappears only to come back with a hoodie, his hoodie, the one that smells like him, and slips it gently over your head, careful not to disturb you more than necessary.

Then he crawls in beside you again, pulling the covers up to your chin, wrapping himself around you like a shield. Your head ends up on his chest. His heartbeat’s steady and slow. “I love you so much,” he says into your hair. “You did amazing. I’m right here.”

He runs his fingers up and down your back, soothing the goosebumps that haven’t quite gone away. His voice is low, lulling you into a dazed sleep. “Breathe with me, baby. Just like that. You’re safe.”

When you finally mumble, “Kei… thank you,” voice barely there, he smiles against your forehead and whispers:

“You never have to thank me for this. Taking care of you is the best part.”

And he means it.

Because it’s not just about the sex. It’s about you.

It’s about seeing you safe, warm, and held, knowing that he made you feel good, and now he’s the one who gets to piece you back together.

[dazzlingjaeyun]

hard thought !! nerdy!jake with glasses pls pls pls

bye omg i love jake with glasses and i love you (and this accidentally turned into 835 words sorry)

୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧

"jakey," you hum against your boyfriend's now swollen lips after pulling away from another kiss. his fingers are digging into your skin a little too hard, nails surely leaving crescent shaped marks on your bare thighs that are straddling his lap.

the way he just confusedly looks at you through his slightly fogged up glasses draws a chuckle from you. "you're hurting me, love."

he loosens his grip almost immediately, softly massaging the skin instead. "sorry, pretty girl," he mumbles as he pushes your skirt up another inch just to place his hands on your ass and push you closer.

"someone got a little carried away, hm?" you ask with a grin, detangling one of your hands from his hair and pushing his glasses back up on his nose bridge.

he blushes ever so slightly, the prettiest shade of pink adorning his cheeks, yet he returns a grin that looks unusually cocky. "says the one that couldn't stop looking at my hands when she should have paid attention to what i was explaining?"

this time, it's your turn to blush. "but physics is so boring," you say with a slight pout. "and you're," you scoot closer, "so", your hand moves to the back of his head again, "annoyingly hot." you slightly tug on his hair, just enough to tilt his head back a little so he's forced to look at you instead of your, fairly speaking, way too low-cut shirt, "and my eyes are up here, baby. who's not paying attention now?"

he tightens his grip again, pushing you forward just enough for you to feel his length hardening. "for the record, you're always ruining my focus," he replies casually. "did i tell you you're the only thing that's made all the science stuff feel kinda irrelevant?"

although his words make you snort, they somehow also warm you heart – but you swear they're not the reason you clench around nothing. that has to be the outline of his now perfectly hard cock pressing against you.

"jake, that's not what you say in a situation like this," you try to deadpan, but your voice comes way shakier than planned.

"you sure?" he asks, squeezing the flesh of your ass once more before sliding his hands up to your hips and pushing you away to reveal the slightly darker spot on his gray sweatpants. "cause your body's reaction kinda says otherwise. so soaked you ruined my pants too?"

before you can respond, his hands are roaming your body again, not rushed but with urgency. he pulls you closer, leaves gentle kisses across your jawline, your neck and down to your collarbones – sucking and nibbling on your skin just enough to leave some light marks. but right when you press against him harder, he pulls away, lips brushing your neck as he speaks, "also, statistically, you–"

"jake," you interrupt, but he continues, "i'm just saying that 9 out of 10 times, you–"

"jaeyun," you say more firmly, "i love you, but for god's sake. shut up."

he looks at you for just the blink of an eye. and then, before you know it, your back is pressed into the mattress, your boyfriend hovering over you, using one hand to hold himself up and the other to pin your wrists above your head.

"but if i shut up, who's gonna tell you that your heart rate increases by about ten beats when i kiss you here?" he places one proving kiss right at the most sensitive spot on your neck.

"or that your body temperature rises by probably almost a full degree when i touch you here," he lets go of your wrists, instead trailing his fingers up your inner thigh until he reaches your core.

"and that your pupils widen, like, approximately half a second before you moan?" and as if to back up his claim, he slides your underwear to the side, just so he can gently press his thumb against your clit. he watches your face, grinning when he's proven right.

"also," he traces his middle finger down to your entrance, still rubbing his thumb over your clit in soft circles, "your breathing changes when i do this." he slowly pushes the digit in, "one deep breath and then two shallow ones."

you reach for the collar of his shirt, half to ground yourself, half to pull him down, angling your head up for a kiss that you too quickly break away from with a quiet gasp as he curls his finger just right to hit your sweet spot.

"and that just proved another theory," he murmurs, voice slightly hoarse. instead of replying, you just reach out to push his glasses up again, holding his gaze while he looks at you like he studies you. and although you'd love to complain about how his random rambles about the laws of physics could kill really the mood for you sometimes, at the end of the day, your boyfriend in fact got your body down to a science <3

© dazzlingjaeyun, 2025. please do not copy.

[heesmiles]

This was different. This was… You glance between the blood on his shirt, down to his bruised knuckles. You knew what he’d done. Something truly unforgiving, something evil, inhumane. Beomgyu was a terrible person. For months you’d let yourself be blindsighted, too caught up on trying to fit him into the life you’d imagined, into a life that would never be his. Because that was not who he was. - reading this is making me realize that even though i know what this series is — i don’t really know. cause off the BAT. i’m so curious to their dynamic and what beomgyu has done…

Yeonjun hums and you hear the clicking sound of what you assumed to be a pen. “We’ve kept him detained all night, best to get going quickly so we can move him over this afternoon.” He sounds absentminded when he speaks, as if his attention was elsewhere, likely reading off of the file in his hands. Still, you frown at his words. - if they’re talking about beomgyu im going to puke

Yeonjun pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as his eyes remain glued to the files in front of him. - this is not a yeonjun fic this is not a yeonjun fic this is not a yeonjun fic this is not a yeonjun fic this is not a yeonjun fic but GAH DAMN, i’m imagining cop yeonjun and i need him.

23 year old male, brought in yesterday around 1am..” He begins, his expression quickly schooling into a more professional one, and you’re instantly reminded of how he used to be when you trained under him. - oh god.

His dark hair falls from his face, making his equally dark eyes meet yours, instantly they seize you with a look you knew all too well. The persistent tapping of his fingers come to an abrupt halt as his lips curl into a menacing smirk, the one that used to make your stomach twist. In that moment, you knew that he knew. Still, you deny it, hands fervently flipping the files as you replace the victim’s with his. - mama i’m in love with a criminal….mama i’m wet….mama….ma….

His smirk only widened, he was enjoying this, you could tell it thrilled him. “In the flesh”, he says, his voice a low drawl as he drinks in your slightly bewildered expression. There were so many things you wanted to tell him, so many things you wished to get off your chest. But before you can even get a word out, the door to the interrogation room is slammed open. - HAND ME A MOTHERFUCKEN HAIRTIE BITCH

The silence is deafening as you step back inside, the sound of the door clicking shut behind you echoing off the four confined walls. Beomgyu remains seated, mindlessly fiddling with the rings on his fingers, the cuffs around his wrists scraping against the metal table. — You force yourself to remain stoic as you approach once more, carefully taking your seat opposite him as you place your files down in front of you. - this man is an alleged murder but why do i wanna drop my panties….where did my pants go??????

A glimmer of mischief flashes across his almost black eyes, it was one you recognized. His tongue prods against the inside of his cheeks, his hands flat against the metal table. “Well certainly not the ones we used to make.” The mockery made your skin crawl and you fought back the insults surfacing as you clenched your jaw. - i’m shaking in my boots, i’m blushing, i’m crying, i’m quivering

And that was exactly how you became infatuated with Choi Beomgyu. - serene….serene….serene…..

i hate you. and i love you. because what is this. why do i….why am i…. oh god.

𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 TAPE 01

𝓓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝓔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 ⸝⸝ Moving rapidly through your career as one of the leading female investigators, you never once encountered a case you couldn't crack. Though you never expected for your past mistakes to come back and haunt you in the form of an ex lover, accused of murder. ⸝⸝

𝓹airings criminal!beomgyu x detective!reader 𝔀arnings blood, character death, descriptions of violence/slight gore, implied sexual encounters, womanizer!beomgyu, making out, penetrative sex, public sex, alcohol consumption.

📼 THE TAPE RECORDINGS

𝓣𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝓢𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 contains dark themes portraying unhealthy and toxic relationships and substance abuse. reader discretion is advised ! — this story is partly told in flashbacks, beware of timestamps as past/present are mixed throughout the story.

#serene adds ✎.. heh, realised after I hit post that I forgot to add a little note for myself on here. hmm... criminal conscience yes, I missed this series, a lot :3 super happy for it to be back, and better than ever !

[ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။| TAPE 01 ] — Stay Away From Choi Beomgyu — recording length; 5.9k

📼 —  April 5th 2023

It was cold. Your cheeks were wet, and whether that was from the rain pouring down on you, or the endless tears streaming down your face you didn’t know. But it was cold. It was dark too, awfully so. Yet you could clearly make out the image of him, his hunched over figure, his bloody hands moving without even the slightest tremble as they clenched and unclenched into fists. For a moment it looked like he wanted to reach out, to touch you. 

The way you flinched, taking a quick step backward made him frown. “Dollface..” He tries, his voice uncharacteristically soft, the tension on his face easing up, if just for a moment. But you won’t hear it. Fuck, you could take the drugs, the lying and the cheating…Suppose you never were together in the end, not officially at least. — And you could take it. All of it. 

This was different. This was… You glance between the blood on his shirt, down to his bruised knuckles. You knew what he’d done. Something truly unforgiving, something evil, inhumane. Beomgyu was a terrible person. For months you’d let yourself be blindsighted, too caught up on trying to fit him into the life you’d imagined, into a life that would never be his. Because that was not who he was. 

You thought things would be different with you. That you somehow stood out from the rest, that maybe… Maybe he wasn’t as bad as people made him out to be. But you should’ve known. You should’ve known to stay away from Choi Beomgyu. 

“You’re a monster.” 

It happens before you can even stop it, the way the words fall from your quivering lips. Your voice is strained with the effort of keeping down another sob, and your breath comes out shaky with each exhale. — He doesn’t look surprised, in fact his expression remains perfectly unreadable, just like it always did. That hurts the most you think. 

He takes a step forward, his shoes making a wet noise against the muddy ground. The rain makes his clothes cling to his body, his dark hair matted against his face, shielding his dark eyes from view until he pushes the strands back. — “C’mon dollface, we can work this out.” The once sweet nickname now made you feel sick. Butterflies no longer surged within your stomach, though, you’re not so sure that they ever had. 

You shake your head, adamant in your decision as you swallow. “Stay away from me.” Even though your voice is close to cracking it seems to break his trance, and Beomgyu looks confused for the first time. It would’ve been an almost satisfactory sight, had it not been for your current situation. But one quick glance toward the blood smeared all over him makes you want to vomit. 

“I never want to see you again.” 

And you hoped you never would. With all of your heart and being you wished to never see Choi Beomgyu ever again. 

⸝⸝ 

📼 — PRESENT TIME ; February 19th 2024

“Hello?” 

Your words are followed by a thick silence and after almost twenty seconds you sigh. “Are you calling from downstairs again? You know the connection there is terrible.” Another minute passes, and you listen to the bruising noise of nothing for what feels like forever until Yeonjun’s voice finally breaks through on the device. 

“Hello? Oh, there you are!” He sounds almost surprised over the fact that the line seemed to actually be working. “Yes, yes I know I shouldn’t be calling from down here, but the elevator’s broken..” — He clears his throat before rapidly continuing. “Alright, I’ve got someone for you, can you make it down to room 31 in ten?” 

The groan passing your lips rings out into your office, bouncing off the walls and surely picking up on the phone despite the shitty connection. “Do you know what time it is? I’ve just barely made it here..” You grumble, yet you’re already rising from your chair, eager to be assigned a case from your senior. 

Yeonjun hums and you hear the clicking sound of what you assumed to be a pen. “We’ve kept him detained all night, best to get going quickly so we can move him over this afternoon.” He sounds absentminded when he speaks, as if his attention was elsewhere, likely reading off of the file in his hands. Still, you frown at his words. 

“Move him? To where, custody? How do you know we’ll have to do that?” Yeonjun doesn’t answer right away, which was unusual for him, and you pause with your hand on the door handle. — “I think it’s best you just come down here”, he then says, the finalisation in his tone evident. You bite the inside of your cheek, your mind suddenly swimming with questions you longed to ask. But you shrug them off, twisting the handle as you step outside. 

“Alright, I’ll be there.” 

The walk to the basement where the interrogations took place was an even longer one today. With no elevator you’re forced to stumble down four sets of stairs, silently vowing to yourself never to wear heels to work ever again. 

Fishing through your pockets, you grab onto the first thing you come across. A small tube of red lipstick, the engravings on its container made your heart skip a beat as you recognized its origin. Oh. You thought you’d gotten rid of that.. But the small cosmetic seemed to have made it during your move not long ago. How odd. 

The sound of your heels come to an abrupt halt as you stop to apply the red tint to your lips, using the camera on your far too old phone as a mirror. Despite its long history, the color remained just as bold as it had been when it was brand new. For some reason the revelation made your chest contract. — Screw it, you thought as you pushed the container back into the depths of your pocket. You would make sure to get rid of it on your way home. The past should remain the past, and for good reasons too. 

Interrogation room 31 is by the very end of the hall. The lights here had yet to be switched out and some of them flickered in a most uncanny way, setting the scene for something akin to a horror movie. However your worries come to ease when you spot your senior outside the door. Leaning against the wall, Yeonjun pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as his eyes remain glued to the files in front of him. 

“Took you long enough”, he huffs without taking his eyes off the clipboard. You raise a threatening fist his way but lower it again with a small grin, “whatever.” Yeonjun cocks an eyebrow your way but doesn’t make an attempt to comment as he instead sighs. — “23 year old male, brought in yesterday around 1am..” He begins, his expression quickly schooling into a more professional one, and you’re instantly reminded of how he used to be when you trained under him. 

He flips the paper, eyes dropping as he scans the written documents. “He’s in for first degree murder and attempted arson.” Shit, that’s serious. — “Are there any witnesses?” You ask, interrupting him when your curiosity gets the better of you. Though it would likely be far too soon to determine that. Yeonjun shakes his head, “None have come forward, besides it’s still too early to say.” You nod, heat rising on your cheeks at the small misstep. 

“Then, how is he linked to the crime?” 

Yeonjun’s eyes snap toward you upon hearing your words, his jaw twitching ever so slightly. “Victim’s DNA on him”, he says as he hands you the file belonging to the victim. Your gaze immediately falls on the number of pictures already gathered from the scene. From the blood covered floorboards to the discarded knife, the bloody bathtub and the victim himself. 

“Park Baekhyun”, Yeonjun says as he points to the picture snapped of a man in his mid thirties. He was bruised from head to toe, his limp body awkwardly laid in the full tub. “34, male, cause of death was asphyxiation due to his head being held underwater for an extended period of time.” 

Once he’s reached the end of his small debrief, your jaw hangs slack. Whoever did this had no intentions of sparing the poor man. And judging by the way the scene looked, they didn’t seem to ever have.

“Will you be alright with this one?” Your senior’s question pulls your attention from the files in your hand, and you quickly nod. “Of course!” This was your first big case, and there was no way you would back down now, not when an opportunity had presented itself like this. 

Yeonjun leans over to unlock the door, his hand on the handle when he turns to you. “Remember I’m always-” — “On the other side of the glass, I know.” You finish with a small smile, and Yeonjun scoffs as he shakes his head. 

Interrogation rooms are small, their walls stripped bare and sterile. With no windows and not even a clock to tell the time, the space feels nearly suffocating. A metal table is placed by the center of the room, adorned with scratches and uneven sections from its years of mistreatment. Above it hangs a single fluorescent light, casting the room in an almost clinical glow. 

The man before you sits on one of the uncomfortable chairs, his head bowed and his cuffed hands resting on the table. His long dark hair shields his face from view, and you find your own gaze dropping to the files in your hands once more as you slide into the seat opposite him. 

You clear your throat, the quietness of the room only amplifying the sound of you swallowing again. “You’re being investigated on the grounds of first degree murder of Park Baekhyun and attempted arson against his property. You have the right to remain silent and or request for an attorney. Keep in mind that anything you say here can be used against you in court.” 

Exhale. 

With a quick glance toward the thick glass window to your left, you allow yourself a momentary break. No matter how hard you squint, it was impossible to make out anything on the other side. But you knew that Yeonjun was watching, and it made everything ten times more surreal. — When you notice that the suspect has yet to speak, you turn your attention back to him. 

He remains in front of you, with his head bowed as his fingers absentmindedly tap against the cool metal table. Your breath catches in your throat when you survey the dark rings adorning almost each and every one of his fingers, they looked oddly familiar. But before you have time to ponder the matter further, he lifts his gaze. 

His dark hair falls from his face, making his equally dark eyes meet yours, instantly they seize you with a look you knew all too well. The persistent tapping of his fingers come to an abrupt halt as his lips curl into a menacing smirk, the one that used to make your stomach twist. In that moment, you knew that he knew. Still, you deny it, hands fervently flipping the files as you replace the victim’s with his. 

Your heart plummets through the floor when your eyes land on the name, and suddenly it all makes sense. He was bound to end up in this room one day, you knew that, you had known that for a long time. You just… Had never imagined to be the one on the other side. 

His smirk only widens, exposing the sharp and shiny teeth that had grazed your skin so many times before. A breathy laugh rumbles within his chest, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you, not once. He exhales with a short breath: 

“Dollface. It’s been a while hasn’t it?” 

The pet name makes an ice cold shiver crawl up your spine. You push down the insults waiting on your tongue, the months of resentment and the anger. Inhaling slowly, you remain perfectly still. He studies you close, dark eyes narrowing as he tilts his head to the side. It was as if he was trying to calculate your next move, you knew that he could. 

“Beomgyu.” The name tastes foul in your mouth, making you want to spit it out. You thought you’d left him behind, left him for good. For ten months you had tried to recover from him, from everything he’d put you through. All of it for nothing. Now he was closer than ever, within an arm's reach, if you so wished to touch him. 

His smirk only widened, he was enjoying this, you could tell it thrilled him. “In the flesh”, he says, his voice a low drawl as he drinks in your slightly bewildered expression. There were so many things you wanted to tell him, so many things you wished to get off your chest. But before you can even get a word out, the door to the interrogation room is slammed open. 

You don’t have to look to know who it is. Yeonjun’s presence could be felt from miles away as he looms over you. “A word outside”, is all he says, before promptly turning on his heel and walking out again. — You don’t take your eyes off of Beomgyu when you rise to your feet, and the smirk on his face persists even when you exit the room. 

“Alright, what’s going on?”

Your senior’s voice echoes down the vacant hallway and you wince at the accusation of his tone. How did you tell him, how did you come clean about the fact that you had history with the man currently detained and cuffed on the other side of the door. — Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you hesitantly chew on it as your eyes dart between the floor and the walls, anywhere but him. 

“Well I… Sort of knew him..” The words come out awkward, and you grimace at the way you presented the situation. Yeonjun’s frown only deepens, the crease on his forehead becoming even more prominent. “Knew?” He presses, and you suddenly feel as if you were the one being interrogated. This was not how your first case was supposed to go. 

“Well.. I haven’t seen him in a long time.” You press your lips into a thin line, forcing yourself into a more upright stance as you try your best at holding his gaze. — “How long?” Yeonjun counters, to which your heart sinks. How long has it been? You hardly kept track, for Choi Beomgyu was someone you longed to forget. “Ten months”, you finally say. 

Your senior sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers as he bites the inside of his cheek. He remains quiet for a good minute and you anxiously fiddle with the hem of your sleeves, glancing over your shoulder to make sure that no one was witnessing the most embarrassing conversation taking place. 

“I’ll take you off the case.” 

No. He can’t do that, can he? Well he technically could. Still, it was an option you refused to consider. “No.” You promptly say, rolling your shoulders back once as you prepare to face his rejection. You didn’t know why your first thought was to refuse, why a pang shot through your chest at the idea of having the case go to someone else, but it did. 

Selfish as you were, you thought you needed this case for your own gain. Whether it was to find some sort of closure for the way things ended, or perhaps even to satisfy your own curiosity. Either way, you knew that this case belonged to you. — “I’m confident that I can do this.” Your voice doesn’t waver, and your gaze is firm as you peer up at Yeonjun. 

Your senior sighs, carding his fingers through his hair as he mutters something under his breath. “It’s against policy and I shouldn’t-” — “Please, Yeonjun.” You take a step forward, hopeful eyes silently pleading with him. 

“I could be of great help, I’m certain of it, please just give me a chance.” — Yeonjun doesn’t look convinced, his dark brows furrowed as he glances between you and the shut door. Patiently you wait as he thinks to himself, your heart thrumming in your ears as you refuse the urge to beg him further. 

Finally, he huffs, shaking his head once, as if in disbelief of himself. “Alright, but if I notice that things are getting out of hand you’re off, are we clear?” 

Eagerly you nod, “Of course. Thank you, sir!” You catch the way he rolls his eyes, coughing slightly as he dismisses you with the wave of his hands. “Don’t act formal with me now”, he tsks, shooting you a small sideway glance. He reaches for the handle once more, holding the door open for you as you enter the suffocating interrogation room a second time that day. 

The silence is deafening as you step back inside, the sound of the door clicking shut behind you echoing off the four confined walls. Beomgyu remains seated, mindlessly fiddling with the rings on his fingers, the cuffs around his wrists scraping against the metal table. — You force yourself to remain stoic as you approach once more, carefully taking your seat opposite him as you place your files down in front of you. 

You clear your throat, ready to begin the initial interview when he suddenly speaks. “You look different.” He presents the statement causally as he leans back in his chair, it makes a squeaking noise at the action. Your heart pounds against your ribcage and you swallow as you hold his gaze. — “People change”, you say, your throat suddenly feeling dry. 

Beomgyu shakes his head, his dark and piercing gaze trailing along your figure. “But you act the same.” His lips stretch into a menacing smirk and you have to force the memories of those very lips against your own and all over your body, out of your head. Focus. You couldn’t afford to be taken off the case. 

“Last night”, you start off strong, your voice firm as you finally divert your attention from the files you’d been clinging onto, “You were present at Park Baekhyun’s property around 1am. What were you doing there?” 

The smirk has yet to fall from his face and Beomgyu cocks an eyebrow your way as he lets go of the rings he’d been fiddling with. “Cleanin’ up a mess”, the nonchalant tone he used masks any hint of unease he might be experiencing. 

“What kind of mess?” 

A glimmer of mischief flashes across his almost black eyes, it was one you recognized. His tongue prods against the inside of his cheeks, his hands flat against the metal table. “Well certainly not the ones we used to make.” The mockery made your skin crawl and you fought back the insults surfacing as you clenched your jaw. 

“Please refrain from straying off topic”, you say, your voice eerily calm. Beomgyu rolls his eyes, but doesn’t attempt to argue as he regards you with a bored expression. “One of my employee’s messed up”, he shrugs, “Fairly new to the job so I can’t really hold him accountable.” — You watch as his eyes flicker over to the window on his right, his gaze narrowing on the thick glass. 

“You gotta go easy on the newbies”, he then adds without tearing his attention from the window. And even though he couldn’t see Yeonjun, he without a doubt knew that he was there. For a moment, it felt almost as if he was addressing your senior and not you. 

Beomgyu’s gaze soon flickers back to you, the smirk on his lips returning within seconds. “But you would know all about that wouldn’t you?” His eyes flash with underlying desire, “I went easy on you the first time.” 

He didn’t. Perhaps that was why you remembered your first encounter with Choi Beomgyu to this day. 

⸝⸝ 

📼 — March 28th 2022 

The floor thumps in rhythm to the loud bass that echoes from the DJ booth. Sweaty bodies are pressed against one another as people tear their way through the dancefloor. The fluorescent lights blind you as they flash from purple to blue to green and back to purple again. — Perched awkwardly on a high stool by the bar, you watch as the night unravels before you. 

Clubs had never been your forte. Especially not during the weekends where they seemed to host a home for the whole city as everyone drank their day to day problems away. Your eyes scan for Kayla, she was the one who’d brought you here in the first place. After listening to her persistent whining for almost an hour you had finally caved, but at what cost? 

As soon as your coats had been left, she’d darted for the dancefloor, not as much as a second thought about you as she searched for her next victim. You shouldn’t even be surprised anymore, it was in her nature honestly. 

You’ve already emptied two glasses, and now you’re tapping the cool rim against your lips as you aimlessly peer out over the crowd. The idea of another drink enticed you, but your wallet strongly disagreed with that idea, thus you were left far too sober for your own liking as you avoided any attempts at socialising. You weren’t here to make friends, much less fuck around. 

It was then, in the midst of a heavy sigh, that your eyes fell on him. Back then you hadn’t known his name, you hadn’t known anything of what was to come. Your first thought was that he wasn’t your type. And you wanted to leave it at that, to let your eyes continue their endless roam and forget about him, but you couldn’t. 

Your gaze clung to him as it trailed along his dark and long hair, perfectly framing his sharp features. Then to the half-hearted smirk he wore, to his dark clothes and the black rings around almost each and every one of his fingers. And then finally to his eyes, darker and all the more menacing than the rest of him, they seemed to glow under the neon lights. 

For some reason, he was looking at you too. Despite the two half-naked girls draped over him, their hands insistently clawing at every part of him they could access, undoubtedly whispering beyond filthy shit in his ears with sickeningly sweet giggles. — Why was he looking at you?

He wasn't alone, far from it. The small booth he occupied held, not only him and the two girls, but at least three other guys as well, all wearing the same brooding expressions. You should look away, pretend like you’d never seen him in the first place, but the longer you stared at him, and the longer he stared back, it became increasingly more difficult. 

His smirk widens when he brings his glass to his lips, and over the rim you catch the sly wink he sends you. Your heart stumbles over its next beat, your own glass stuttering against your chin as you grip it tighter. 

It wasn’t like you weren’t used to getting hit on, or even subtly flirted with. But there was something undeniably different about this man. Despite your earlier complaints on your sobriety, you suddenly felt intoxicated in a way you never had before. 

And so you did the only reasonable thing left to do. You winked back. 

He chuckles, even though you’re unable to hear it, you can see it in the way his chest rises and falls. His ring clad hand slides along the thigh of one of the girls, who giggled as she leaned in to kiss his neck. He seemed to pay her little mind, those same dark eyes still fixed on you.. 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

Kayla’s voice is sharp, and it snaps your attention from the stranger and over to your friend as she takes the seat next to yours. Slouched over the bar, she orders herself a glass of water which she begins gulping down. — “What?” You question as you watch her wipe her lips. 

“That guy, the one you were eyeing”, she points in the direction of the man you’d just been gawking at, “He’s no good.” She gives a firm nod, glass gripped tightly in her hand as she peers down at the liquid floating around. — “How’d you know?” You scoff as you, too, turn back to the bar. Perhaps she was jealous of you succeeding in finding someone when she wasn’t, it wouldn’t be a first. 

But Kayla only huffs, her nails tapping against the glass as she purses her lips. “Only uses women for his own personal gain and pleasure, you’ll get hurt.” 

“What if I only seek pleasure?” That was a lie, because you didn’t, far from it. You were nothing like Kayla, at least you liked to think you weren’t. —- “Then I suggest you seek it elsewhere, I meant what I said, he’s bad news.” 

“How do you know that?”

Her knowledge about this stranger intrigued you. Had she hooked up with him before and got jealous by the possibility of you doing the same? Had he rejected her? 

Kayla sighs, her expression taking on an almost melancholic form as she sets her glass down. “Do you remember Shay?” She suddenly asks and you frown, confused by the mention of her old friend. “Yeah? You haven’t mentioned her in a while, did something happen?” 

Your friend snorts, throwing a glance over her shoulder as she nods toward the man by the booth. “Yeah, he did. – One night she’s off with him, next time I see her is two weeks later, drugged out of her fucking mind and unable to stand on her own goddamn legs.” A visible shiver runs down Kayla's spine as she recalls the events in her head. 

Turning back to the counter, she picks up her glass, “Besides, I’ve never seen him with the same woman twice.” With that, she downs the remaining water before pushing the now empty glass away. — “Better to try your luck on the dancefloor, hm?” She suggests as she attempts to pull you along. 

“I’m fine here.” You give her a small smile, watching as she nods before turning to disappear through the thick crowd. 

As much as you tried to keep your gaze from wandering, it somehow ended up by that godforsaken booth yet again. Except this time, the man seemed far too busy to spare your hopeless stares as much as a second glance. One of the girls had crawled onto his lap, shielding most of his face from view as she pressed her lips to his. 

His fingers squeezed around her hips before his hands traveled down the curve of her ass, barely covered by the ridiculously short skirt she wore. — They only broke apart for him to mutter something to one of the others present, their following laughter almost overpowering the loud music. 

With a small grimace you finally tear your gaze from the sight, slumping back against the bar with a tired sigh. This night seemed to drag on forever. Perhaps you could call a cab home, Kayla would probably want to stay at least another two hours, something that you weren’t quite feeling. 

You brace your hands on the countertop with the intention of heaving yourself from your chair and search for your friend when the bartender suddenly catches your attention. Wordlessly he places a drink in front of you, making your head jerk up as you give him a confused look. “I didn’t order–” 

“Booth 12”, he nodded to somewhere behind you but you hardly needed to turn around to know where this drink had come from. With your heart in your throat, you take the cool glass, eyeing the pinkish hue of the contents that swirled around the ice cubes. Why had he bought you this? Hesitantly you bring the glass to your lips, taking a small sip as you let the liquid slip down your throat. 

It tasted sweet, and you quickly found yourself going back for more. But hadn’t he been busy just a few moments ago.. Perhaps you’d read him wrong. — Suppose you could finish this drink and then head home. But you can barely get as much as another sip in before the seat next to yours becomes occupied. 

Through the corner of your eye you can easily make out his long dark hair, the faint smirk on his lips as he clasps his hands on the counter in front of him. For a moment, there’s an awkward silence hanging over the two of you. He doesn’t say anything as he gazes ahead, part of you wondered if he’d even come here with the intention of talking to you at all. 

You take another sip of your drink, desperate for the liquor to take effect. The man shifts in his seat, and you feel as though you were on fire when his head turns in your direction. Even with no words he managed to make your heart beat in a frenzy as you clutched your glass tightly. 

His dark and piercing gaze is unforgiving as it roams your figure, undoubtedly lingering where it shouldn’t. It was like he knew no shame. You should’ve told him off, you should’ve gotten up and left. For some reason you find yourself staring at him with equally invading eyes. 

“I haven’t seen you here before.” 

It’s the first time he speaks, his head falling to the side as he studies you. “You new around town?” His voice is smooth, clean of any stuttering or awkwardness. A small part of you envied how easily he seemed to be carrying himself. — You shake your head, “No.” 

The man raises an eyebrow, and you don’t stop him when he reaches for your drink. The rings around his fingers make a clanking sound against the glass as he takes it and brings it to his lips. “Then what? Not your crowd?” He asks before taking a sip, his eyes never leaving you. 

“No, I suppose not..” You gingerly admit, not wanting to highlight the fact that you were completely out of your element. But judging by the way he looked at you, his silent demeanor practically eating you alive, he probably knew that already. — He places your glass back down, gently pushing it back your way as he wordlessly encourages you to drink more. You don’t know why you oblige. 

He takes the opportunity of you sipping on your drink to introduce himself. “Choi Beomgyu”, he says, the smirk on his lips widening as he does. The name fit him, oddly enough. Perhaps it was a bad idea to give out your own name. He was a stranger, not to mention one that Kayla had specifically warned you about not long ago. Still, this man intrigued you beyond limits.. 

Beomgyu, as his name was, suddenly leaned closer and you could almost smell the liquor on his breath. “Come on dollface, you must have a name?” The nickname he so casually dropped made your stomach flip. — You tell yourself that this was just a game of his. Taking Kayla’s words into consideration, not to mention the fact that he had girls draped over him minutes ago, this wasn’t the first time he chatted someone up. You would not make a fool of yourself and fall for such cheap tricks. 

He’s silent as he waits for you to answer, but when you merely avoid his gaze and sip on your drink, he chuckles. The laugh is pulled from deep within his chest and it sounds raspy when it rolls off his tongue. Beomgyu leans back, running a hand leisurely through his long hair. “Hard to charm I see.” 

You don’t answer, but you can’t help but watch as he rests his elbows against the bartop, his finger dragging just below his bottom lip as he regards you with intrigue. — “Not your type?” You retort, your response coming out somewhat short. It was hard to fathom any reasoning behind his strange interest in you. 

“Far from it”, Beomgyu hums, though his glimmering eyes betray the words coming out of his mouth. The lower half of his face pulls into a lopsided grin, “But I’m not opposed to trying new things.” 

Your first instinct was to scoff, to tell him to fuck off back to wherever he’d emerged from. It’s strange. You find yourself completely unable to. Instead you push your nearly finished drink toward him once more, and Beomgyu takes it as he brings it to his lips. — If he wasn’t opposed to trying new things, then who says you weren’t either?” 

“Tell me your name.” 

His breath is hot on your neck, coming in short pants as he slams his hips against yours. The alleway is dark and vacant, shielding the two of you from prying eyes. Shoved against the brick wall, you’re pliant in his grasp as Beomgyu’s hands roam your body. With your skirt pushed high above your hips, the metal of his rings feel cool against your thighs as his fingers dig into your soft flesh. 

Was this a good idea? — It didn’t matter. Your nails rake along his shoulders, pulling him impossibly close. Beomgyu chuckles against the crock of your neck, his lips leaving sloppy kisses over your skin, pulling it between his teeth. 

This was so unlike anything you’d ever done before. Not that you were a prude, or anything of the sort. But something like this, in a place like this, where anyone could walk by and with a mere stranger no less.. Whatever. You figured he was just another promiscuous man with no other intentions than the last. You would use it to your advantage tonight, or at least so you thought. 

But for every kiss he placed against your body, for every quiet whisper of praise that slipped from his tongue, you found yourself slowly losing your last semblance of control. Beomgyu was not like any of your previous partners, he was new, exciting, exotic even. Something you’d never had before, and now that you’d gotten a small taste, you felt far from satisfied. 

Why did he want to know your name? Why did it matter if you were to never see one another after tonight? Still, his silent request is made clear when he presses your lips together in a feverish kiss. You gasp out at the feeling of his hard cock as it buries inside of your aching cunt, your thighs trembling as they remain wrapped around his waist. 

“Dollface”, he exhales into the kiss, his mouth warm and wet against yours. And when he pulls back for air, your dazed eyes meet his as you brace your hands on his chest. Licking your lips, you inhale slowly before finally giving out your name, your most vulnerable piece of information. 

He smirks, clearly thrilled by the admission. For a split second you wondered if you’d done the right thing. Perhaps it had all been one grave mistake. If it was, you weren’t given time to ponder it as he reconnets your lips, this time with a passion unlike anything you’d ever felt before. 

And that was exactly how you became infatuated with Choi Beomgyu.

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[wrstbehaavr]

۶ৎ kento nanami’s fav positions <33 thick!black!wife!reader. lowkey a self-insert, reader (and i) have glasses. mean!nanami. size kink go brrrrrr. overstimulation. milf!reader & dilf!nanami are whores for each other <33

he doesn’t often speak about it, or even speak at all about it—but nanami has favourite positions.

of course, he won’t speak nothing of it if nobody asks. but when you do…

he’ll have you folded, flipped, and fucked like you his own personal obsession. because you are. and he shows it.

i. cowgirl; his stress reliever.

after work, he lays back in his slacks and a grey long-sleeve shirt (that was always tight because of his massive pecs and muscles), sleeves rolled, hair messy… just to watch you ride.

you were so thick and beautiful it made absolutely no sense. the way your ass moves, the way your face contorts when you drop down on him?

he moans like it hurts.

“you don’t even k-know what you do to me,” he murmurs, voice low, one hand on your ass and the other trailing up your spine.

he lets you bounce a little—just a little. then grabs your hips and fucks up into you so deep you go slack-jawed.

“shh. h-hush, baby—let me watch you fall apart.”

he talks you through every orgasm. and you both always have more than one.

ii. reverse cowgirl; his obsession.

your ass is fat. so round, thick, and plump. and nanami? he’s devoted. he sits back, arms folded behind his head, dick hard and twitching, just watching that ass drop down.

“go on,” he says, licking his lips. “i’ll let you wear yourself out first.”

he loves the ripples. loves the sound. loves the view. and when you look back at him—eyes glazed, tongue out, drool hangin from your lips?

when you talk him through it? “jus’ like th-that, pa. you always know how t’please m-me—hah!”

he loses composure.

nanami grips your waist and slams you down on him, fast and rough, your ass clapping so loud it echoes off the fucking walls.

“you want this dick? then take it. noo lookin back now.”

and he means that.

iii. backshots; his religion.

nanami puts you on your stomach and spreads you like a prayer. face in the sheets, ass up, legs trembling, lips parted—because you’re already so overstimulated.

but he doesn’t care. not one bit.

he loves it. he lives for it.

“what’s wrong?” he mocks, voice soft, dick heavy against your pussy. “can’t take it?”

he drives his thick and almost monstrous dick in and your whole body jumps. he doesn’t stop. slapping your ass, biting your shoulder, holding your hips as he pounds your sappy cunt into next week.

you’re so weak everywhere, but you find yourself trying to match his strokes, earning a rippling slap! to your ass.

your sweet pussy slurrps! him up with every chance, and he swears you could pull orgasm after orgasm from him.

and when you look back over your shoulder? eyes wet, smirking through the tears?

“o-ooh sh-shit—k-keep lookin’ at me like that,” he mutters. “i’m puttin a—hah!—baby in you tonight.”

and he does. every time. it’s how you ended up with three children already, right?

iv. missionary; his heaven incarnate.

nanami loves it rough. but he loves you more.

your legs on his shoulders, his body pressed to yours, dripping cunny stretched around his monstrous cock. he grinds into you like he’s trying to disappear inside.

and he neeeeeds to see you.

every flutter of your thick lashes. every scream. every time your eyes roll and your tits bounce.

he pulls you onto his dick, watches you melt. you’re both five orgasms in and he’s still not done.

he can’t be done when everytime he pulls out, his cum leaks out your sore pussy. it’s like you’re begging for more (and you are, because you find yourself locking your legs around his waist after every round).

“look at me,” he breathes. “look at me while i f-fuckin’ break you.”

you’re sobbing. he’s moaning. and you cum together, every single time.

and no matter the position, his dick is mean. his moans are high and desperate. his thrusts are messy, deep, and borderline criminal.

nanami’s not just your husband. hes not just the father of your children—he’s your slut—your whore.

and you were his.

who should i dew next? laughs ><

all rights reserved. 17+ © solana / wrstbehaavr. don’t copy, translate, or modify without my consent.

[vigilante-3073]

Endgame

Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Y/N always thought that she and Steve would be together forever. But what happens when he has the chance to go back in time and choose another path?

TW: Betrayal, breakups, friends to lovers, mentions of death and drinking.

Y/N sat on the bench outside Tony Stark's cabin, staring ahead blankly as the team said their goodbyes to Steve. Everyone had gathered for a funeral service at the edge of the lake. The battle with Thanos had resulted in the losses of many, altering the lives of everyone who was affected.

The team had lost Tony. Natasha. Gamora. Vision. Loki.

Y/N hadn't known Loki or Gamora very well, but their sacrifice still mattered. The losses weighed heavily on family, friends and allies alike. Y/N was fortunate to have seen Steve return unscathed with his closest friends at his side.

It felt strange to be grateful in such a melancholic situation, surrounded by mourning individuals wearing black clothing. The service had been arranged for Tony, but most of the people who gathered together had their own loved ones to mourn.

It was the type of situation that opened people's eyes and made them look at their life differently. What could they have changed? Should they call that person they've been thinking about? Confess something that they've been keeping buried inside?

Steve had spoken to Y/N before the service about his plans. He hadn't confided in anyone else at the time, but his mind was already made up.

He was leaving her.

Steve had been hung up on Peggy for decades and Y/N always respected that. Y/N was naive to think that their connection could ever rival the one he had found with Peggy all those years ago. Peggy changed his life and Steve would never be able to fully let go of her, especially after being ripped away from her so suddenly when he went into the ice.

Their engagement was called off, but Steve encouraged Y/N to keep the ring. He apologized for the suddenness of his decision, but he didn't have a lot of time. He told her that their connection was amazing, but he would never forgive himself if he passed up this opportunity.

Y/N watched him smile as he shared a quick hug with Bucky before moving over to the machine that Bruce had assembled. He was gone in a flash, roaming through time and returning the infinity stones to their designated spaces along the timeline.

Then he would go to Peggy.

The thought made bile rise in Y/N's throat as tears gathered in her eyes. Steve just tossed her aside, discounting their years together and chasing a woman he barely knew over seventy years ago.

Y/N looked up as someone made their way over to her, "Mind if I join you?" Bucky questioned.

Y/N shook her head, not trusting her voice enough to speak. Bucky nodded, stepping past her and sitting down on the bench beside her. He glanced down at her hand, immediately noticing the absence of her engagement ring.

"I take it from the missing ring that he told you about his plan?" Bucky questioned, Y/N nodded.

"How much notice did you get?" He asked.

"He told me when I was getting ready to come here," Y/N replied softly.

"What a punk," Bucky muttered, shaking his head, "I'm sorry that this happened to you... You're a really good person and you didn't deserve this," Bucky continued.

"Thank you," Y/N said shakily, wiping away a tear with the sleeve of her sweater.

"He's an idiot for letting go of a girl like you," Bucky stated.

Y/N smiled slightly, "That's sweet," She said.

"I'm here if you need anything, okay? I don't want you to feel like you're alone in this because you're not," Bucky said.

"C-can I have a hug?" Y/N asked softly.

"Yeah, of course," Bucky said, standing up from the bench.

Y/N stood up with a sniffle, wiping away another tear before wrapping her arms around his neck. Bucky wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close to himself. He could feel her body shaking as she sobbed silently into his shoulder. Bucky looked up, gulping when he noticed Sam walk over to a white-haired man who was sitting on the bench by the lake.

"He came back," Bucky said softly.

Y/N pulled away quickly, turning around to see the old man as he talked to Sam, "Oh my god," She mumbled, turning away from them.

"I feel like I'm gonna be sick," Y/N said softly.

For a millisecond, she allowed herself to believe that he returned the stones and came home to her. It was like another heartbreak to see him sitting there after living the life he'd always wanted with Peggy.

"I need to get out of here," Y/N said shakily, tears gathering in her eyes.

"Let me take you. You shouldn't be driving in your condition," Bucky said, she nodded and passed him her keys.

Bucky led her over to the steps, resting his hand on her back as they moved down the stairs. Bucky could hear Sam chasing after them as they approached her car.

"Hey, Y/N, hold on," Sam called.

Bucky paused as Y/N turned around, allowing Sam to catch up to them, "Look, I'm really sorry about how everything went down, but he's here and he wants to talk to you," Sam said.

Y/N shook her head, "I can't," She stated.

"Y/N, please," Sam began.

"She said no, Sam. She's been through a lot today and it's borderline cruel for him to try and talk to her right now," Bucky said.

"He wants to apologize, Y/N," Sam stated.

"Sam, I'm sorry, but I can't see him like that. Not yet at least," Y/N mumbled, wiping away her tears with shaking hands.

Bucky opened the passenger side door, holding it open for her. Y/N moved to get into the car and Sam quickly grabbed onto her wrist.

"Just give him a minute of your time. Please," Sam pleaded.

"No, I can't," Y/N replied.

"Let her go, Sam," Bucky said firmly.

"Bucky, this is between Steve and Y/N," Sam stated.

"Then why are you the one chasing her down? Let go of her," Bucky repeated.

"Fine, but I want you to give me a call if you change your mind, okay?" Sam said, releasing her wrist.

Y/N nodded before quickly getting into the car, Bucky closed the door behind her, "Don't push her on this, Sam. She needs time," Bucky said.

"I know," Sam nodded, "Are you gonna stay with her tonight? She probably shouldn't be alone," He questioned.

"I'll keep an eye on her. I promised him that I'd look out for her and I meant it," Bucky stated.

"You're a good guy, Bucky. I'm glad she has you," Sam said.

....

Bucky drove down the road, the car was quiet besides the soft chatter of the radio. Y/N stared down at her lap, picking away at her cuticles as silent tears rolled down her cheeks.

Bucky glanced over at her, "Are you okay?" He asked.

"I don't know. I just-," Y/N huffed, "I really need a drink," She stated.

"I can definitely help you out with that," Bucky assured.

He pulled into the parking lot of the first dive bar he saw, leading her inside and finding them a set of stools at the bar. Y/N set her purse on the bartop, hopping up into the stool.

"Get whatever you want, doll, it's on me," Bucky said, sitting down beside her.

"What can I get you two?" The bartender asked.

"Can we get four shots of whiskey, please?" Y/N questioned.

The man nodded, lining up the shot glasses on the bartop and filling them from the bottle. Bucky handed him a few bills when he finished pouring the drinks.

"Keep the change," He said, the bartender nodded and stepped away.

Y/N picked up one of the shot glasses, downing the liquor with a grimace before setting it down on the bartop. Y/N moved onto the second shot glass, then the third and finally the fourth. Y/N set the last shot glass down on the bartop with a thud, letting out a disgusted shiver at the taste in her mouth.

Bucky stared at her in shock, "Wow... That was impressive," He said.

"I just really need to get drunk right now. I know it's not cute or responsible but it's necessary," Y/N stated.

"You're not gonna get any judgement from me, sweetheart. I'm here for you, no matter what," Bucky said, waving over the bartender for another round.

He sat with Y/N at the bar for hours, drinks turned her sadness into anger and back into sadness again. She leaned into his side, sobbing as she used a bar napkin to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

"I loved him and I thought he loved me back... He left me the second he had the chance and didn't even care," Y/N rambled, her words slurring together as she spoke.

"He loved you, Y/N, I know that for a fact. If time travel wasn't possible, he would have married you and lived a happy life here. But as soon as it was an option, he felt like going back to Peggy was an option and it blinded him," Bucky said, hand rubbing over her bicep as she sniffled.

"He's an asshole and I never want to see his old face again," She muttered.

Bucky smiled slightly, "You almost ready to go home, sweetheart?" He questioned.

"I'm hungry," Y/N said.

"I can pick something up for you on the way home. Whatever you want," Bucky offered, Y/N nodded.

She straightened up on her barstool, grabbing her bag from the bartop before sliding off the stool. Bucky wrapped his arm around her waist as she swayed on her feet.

"Whoa, take it easy there, doll," Bucky said, leading her out of the bar.

"You're such a nice guy. Why don't I ever pick the nice guys?" Y/N questioned softly.

Bucky felt his cheeks flush, "Steve was a nice guy," Bucky offered.

Y/N scoffed, "Maybe, but he still dumped me for his ex-girlfriend from like sixty years ago," She grumbled.

Bucky walked her over to her car, opening the door and helping her get inside before leaning in to buckle her seat belt.

"Bucky," Y/N said, he hesitated in front of her.

He could smell her perfume and the alcohol on her breath as she stared at him. Y/N leaned in suddenly, eyes fluttering shut as she pressed her lips to his in a drunken kiss. Bucky cupped her cheek gently in his palm as he moved his lips against hers, eyes drifting closed at the gentle contact.

Bucky pulled away after a moment, eyes fluttering open and gaze flickering over her face uncertainly when he realized what had just happened. Y/N was drunk and vulnerable, he took advantage of her in an altered state and he refused to be that kind of guy.

"I'm sorry, that was stupid," Y/N said shakily, "God, I'm such a mess right now," She muttered, tears gathering in her eyes.

"Hey, it's okay. Don't worry about it, doll," Bucky assured, pulling away and closing the car door gently.

He took a steadying breath as he walked around the car before getting into the driver's seat, "Let's get you some food, huh?" Bucky said.

"You're the best," Y/N smiled.

...

It had been almost a year since Steve had abandoned them to return to the past. The first few months had been horrible for Y/N, returning to their shared apartment was like having her heart broken all over again.

Bucky stayed with her on the first night, sleeping on the couch in the living room and pretending that he couldn't hear her crying herself to sleep. He helped her clean out the apartment the next morning, packing all of Steve's belongings into boxes for Sam to pick up.

Every picture, every trinket, every clothing item and every gift was packed away. Y/N couldn't bear to look at anything that he had left behind without crying, she just needed it all to be gone.

Bucky stayed at her apartment again that night, sleeping on the couch and doing his part to make the place feel less empty. Y/N truly valued his friendship, but there had always been something buried underneath.

That night at the bar, Bucky and Y/N shared a kiss that neither of them would ever forget. It took about six months before Y/N asked Bucky to move in with her.

Things moved quickly between them after Bucky moved into the apartment. They settled in easily, the domesticity taking them by surprise. They both needed someone reliable at their side, someone who they could trust to remain consistent even when things got hard.

They began to see each other romantically almost a year after Y/N's engagement was called off. Bucky was clear about not wanting to rush her, but Y/N knew exactly what she wanted.

Bucky sat on the couch, flipping through the channels as he searched for something to watch. His cellphone rang on the cushion beside him, pulling his focus away from the screen.

Bucky picked up his phone, smiling at Y/N's contact photo before sliding his thumb across the screen. Bucky lifted the phone up to his ear, lowering the volume of the television.

"Hey, sweetheart, you on your way home?" Bucky questioned.

"Just leaving work now. I'm going to stop at the store on my way home and just wanted to see if you needed me to pick up anything," Y/N said.

"No, I'm all good," Bucky replied.

"Okay, I'll see you in a bit," Y/N said.

"See you soon, sweetheart," Bucky replied, pulling the phone away from his ear and hanging it up.

Bucky set his phone on the cushion beside him, resuming his search through the various channels on the TV. Bucky settled on a baseball game, watching silently for a few minutes.

He looked up when someone knocked on the door, Bucky stood up and slowly made his way over. Bucky unlocked the door, opening it to find Sam standing in the hallway.

"Bucky? What the hell are you doing here?" Sam questioned.

"I live here," Bucky stated.

"Since when?" Sam asked.

"Can I help you with something, Sam?" Bucky questioned.

"Steve called me. Said he was missing a leather jacket in his stuff," Sam said.

"I'll take a look," Bucky stated, stepping out of the way.

Sam moved into the apartment, looking around and quickly spotting the framed photographs of Y/N and Bucky on the mantle.

"Wow, you guys didn't waste any time, did you?" Sam questioned.

"None of what happened makes much sense, alright? Steve left her and I was here," Bucky said, walking off into the bedroom.

Sam followed closely behind him, lingering in the doorway as Bucky opened the closet door and began to search through the clothing.

"So, you two are a couple, then?" Sam questioned.

"Yeah, we are," Bucky stated.

"Have you talked to Steve about this?" Sam asked.

"He left her behind, I shouldn't have to ask for his permission," Bucky said.

"I thought he was your best friend," Sam replied.

"So did I," Bucky stated.

He looked over when he heard the front door open, "Baby, you here?" Y/N called.

"Baby? She seriously calls you baby?" Sam asked.

"Shut up," Bucky muttered, stepping back from the closet, "In here, doll," Bucky called.

Y/N appeared around the corner, smile falling briefly when she spotted Sam, "Hey, what are you doing here?" Y/N questioned.

"He wanted to pick up a jacket for Steve," Bucky stated.

"Oh, okay," Y/N nodded.

She stepped around Sam before approaching the closet, "Can you grab the black box on the top shelf?" She asked, Bucky nodded.

He pulled down the box before passing it to her, Y/N moved over to Sam and held the box out to him.

"That should be it," Y/N said.

Sam lifted the lid slightly, "Yeah... Thanks," He nodded.

"I'll walk you out," Bucky offered.

Y/N lingered in the bedroom as Bucky led Sam to the door to their apartment. Bucky opened the door, allowing Sam to step out into the hallway.

"Bucky, you and Y/N are really good together. I'm sure Steve would be happy if you told him," Sam said.

"I'm sorry, but he lost the right to know about her life when he broke off their engagement. She is the best thing that's ever happened to me and I know that I am the luckiest guy around. Steve screwed up by dumping her and I'm sure that he'll figure it out someday soon," Bucky said.

"Alright... I wish you the best," Sam replied.

"Have a good one, Sam," Bucky said, closing the door carefully behind him.

"Did you mean that?" Y/N asked, Bucky turned around to find her peering around the corner at him.

"I did," Bucky stated.

Y/N smiled, stepping out from behind the corner and making her way over to him. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, standing up on her toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"I love you," Y/N said softly.

"I love you too, honey," Bucky replied easily, smiling down at her.

[brownlyfe]

Love A Woman: He Wasn't Man Enough

A Three-Part Modern Day Au

Part 1, Part 2

pairing: elijah “smoke" moore x annie x elias "stack" moore

cw: modern!au, slightly ooc, smut

word count: 8,064

summary: annie is caught between two brothers who show their love for her in two different ways. one quiet and soft beneath her control, the other? unapolegtically rough and playful. weekdays are a slow burn of passion and promise, but the weekends are chaos and surrender personified. but when blurred lines, missed promises, and real feelings start to surface, the balance shifts. loyalty gets tested. and annie has to decide what kind of love she really needs, and who’s strong enough to hold all of her.

notes: sooo guys this is the technical last part of the series, BUT stay till the end because I do want to add a bonus piece, but it will be based on how you all vote.

Smoke wasn’t loud when he was mad. He never had to be. His aura was enough

He walked into the back room of the club, the door shut behind him, cigar half-burned between his fingers, and found Stack leaning over the table. He was scrolling through his phone like the whole world wasn’t burning because of him.

Smoke didn’t speak at first. He just stared.

Stack looked up. “What?”

“You think what you did was cool, huh?”

Stack frowned. “What you talking about?”

Smoke flicked ash into the tray beside him. “Annie told me about you leaving her outside on the corner for two hours.”

“She’s fine now–”

“That’s not the point.”

Stack paused.

Smoke set the cigar down. Sat across from him.

“Brother, tell me this, what did we say when all three of us just decided to do what we doing?” Stack stayed quiet, but Smoke knew he knew the answer.

When a fifteen-year-old Annie moved into the small town of Clarksdale, Mississippi, the two boys knew that she was going to be in their lives for good. They would spend hours by the lake under this big oak tree just talking about anything. Promises were made to each other, promises to protect and love each other.

By the time they graduated from high school, all three of them were closer than ever. And they didn’t want to separate, so when Annie had gotten accepted into Clark Atlanta University, the twins wasted no time in following her. She helped them with their applications and celebrated when they got accepted as well.

Their time in college was when things kicked off. Smoke was always in his room. He had joined a few clubs and made some friends, but he wasn’t too much interested in anything but Annie. Stack, on the other hand, was the busybody. He went to all the fun events on and off campus. Everyone knew him, the guys wanted to be friends with him, and the girls wanted to be with him. 

Things shifted when sophomore year rolled around. Smoke and Annie started spending more time together, alone. She would drag him to her SGA meetings or have him help her with her studies. One of those study nights led to their first time together. Though neither of them was a virgin, it felt like it. And from there, they were hooked on each other.

Despite Annie and Smoke being in a relationship, it didn’t stop the trio from being the same as they were before. If anything, things grew stronger. She doted on them both and took care of them. She showed her love for them in the best way she knew how, and at night? Smoke would break her off a little something in return. 

By the end of junior year, things were going smoothly. The couple was still going strong, and Stack, well, he enjoyed being single. He had his pick of any girl he wanted, and he loved it. But in between that, he would watch how loving his twin and Annie would be to one another, and he longed for that. But he didn’t want it with just anyone.

His eyes would always drift to Annie in the quiet moments the three shared. He would smile when she laughed at one of his jokes. And he just loved the way she knew him like the back of her hand. 

Those other girls just didn’t do it for him anymore. He wanted something stable, something to make him feel whole and warm. Sure, he had always been a man who liked his freedom, but that meant he wouldn’t have what he truly desired.

So that summer before senior year, he talked to his brother about everything he felt and for who he felt it. They kept their conversations a secret from Annie…until school started back at least. But that was when disaster struck. One of Stack’s flings got upset over Annie being over all the time, even though he told her that Smoke was staying there too, and the girl swore that they were messing around. And maybe she was right, because that same night, Stack and Annie got into an argument that led to him taking her on their couch.

What followed was a whole lot of guilt on Annie’s part, but that was quickly quelled by Smoke’s reassurance that he knew what was going to happen. From there, their beautiful relationship flourished. No one ever asked why Annie always had two men at her beck and call. Not that it was their business anyway. 

The twins had promised to always be there for her and to love and take care of her just as much as she did all those years ago. And now, it seemed that Stack had slid back on his promise and resorted to those days when he didn’t have someone to come home to.

“I covered for you,” Smoke said, voice low. “I’ve held her when she cried because you were too stubborn to say what she meant to you. I watched her walk around and pretend she didn’t care while you acted like she wasn’t yours. You backsliding, Stack.”

Stack’s jaw tightened. “It’s not like that.”

“It is.” Smoke leaned forward. “You didn’t even tell Annie there was somebody else. That you even liked someone else.”

Stack didn’t respond.

Smoke scoffed, leaned back. “You love Annie or not?”

“…I do,” Stack muttered.

“Then why you playing her like this?”

Stack exhaled hard. “It’s not about love. It’s about…I wasn’t ready for what it’s turning into.”

“You were ready to fuck her. Ready to have her in your lap every weekend, showin’ you a side of her that I don’t get. But you weren’t ready to be honest?”

Stack sat in silence, but as what Smoke said fully processed, he grew frustrated. “Why do you even care this much? You already got her.”

Smoke’s brow lifted, just slightly. “Don’t do that.”

Stack sat back, shoulders rising. “Nah, for real. You act like I’m the only one messing this up, but she’s always runnin’ to you anyway. I’m the one standing here catching heat.”

Smoke didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

“She don’t care about you the way you think she does, bro. You’re just the safe option.”

There it was. The honesty that Smoke was pushing for. Heavy silence followed.

Smoke stood slowly, picked up his cigar, and walked toward the door. His voice was low but sharp.

“You know what’s wild?” he said. “You really believe that.”

Stack’s silence said enough.

Smoke turned back to face him. “I don’t ever feel insecure about how Annie loves me. Not once. You know why?”

Stack said nothing.

Smoke’s jaw flexed. “Because I show up for her. I listen. I take the pressure when she breaks. I give without keeping score. That’s why she comes to me.”

He stepped closer, just one slow stride. His eyes didn’t waver.

“And you know what else? She still loves you. Even now, when you don’t deserve it.”

Stack swallowed, jaw tight.

Smoke stood, grabbing his cigar. “So you need to choose, and if you don’t choose soon?” he added, walking to the door. “I will.”

Smoke turned back, calm but cold. And he left without another word. But Stack just sat there, alone, knowing he might’ve already gone too far.

Stack’s place was quiet that night. Too quiet.

Annie sat on the edge of his bed, lights low, her legs still bare from the club, makeup wiped clean but lashes still clinging to the corners. Her phone lay face down beside her, Mia’s words echoing in her head.

She didn’t want to believe it. But she also didn’t want to be that girl, the one who goes digging. The one who snoops. That had never been her. Never had to be. Stack gave her his passcode years ago, said “you can go through anything,” without blinking.

She never touched his shit because she trusted him. Until tonight. Until that long wait on the curb. The lies that came too smoothly. And Mia’s voice cutting through the haze, saying what Annie couldn’t make herself ask.

She stared at Stack’s phone on the charger, screen dim and still. Then she picked it up and typed the code in with a certain hesitancy. And of course, it opened.

And just like that, her stomach dropped. Her hands didn’t shake. She scrolled slowly, not looking for anything specific. Just anything to confirm the thing she already felt sinking in her chest.

And she found it. A message thread was pinned near the top. It wasn’t her nor Smoke’s name. It was a woman’s. So, she decided to go through the conversation from top to bottom. She went all the way up to the top.

The texts were casual at first. But then they got flirty. And each text made her heart sink further. There was one from earlier that day. It was a reservation confirmation for an Italian restaurant in the heart of the city. Stack had sent it with a note of their date attire. It was the kind of place Stack had never taken Annie to, not once.

She stared at the screen until the words blurred. And in that moment, she wasn’t angry. She was stone-cold. She set the phone back down exactly where she found it.

Then sat in the dark, hands in her lap, wondering how long she’d been loving a man who didn’t know how to hold her right. And if she could still be the kind of woman who loved a man like that at all. -

All her girls pulled up in solidarity, wearing dresses that made people stop.

Annie didn’t say much on the way there, but she didn’t have to. Mia had picked her up with the intention of being her rock for the day.

They walked in right on time. A reservation was made under a name that wasn’t hers. The host barely glanced twice before leading them through the restaurant, heels clicking softly on marble, chandeliers glittering overhead. They passed by tables full of people. And there he was, sitting across from that same woman Annie saw in the bathroom.

Annie didn’t break stride. But Mia caught her eye and gave the tiniest nod. They peeled off as if they were headed to the restroom, weaving past the tables. They approached the table with slow movements. Stack’s back to them.

Annie stopped right to the side of his chair, putting her hand on the back of it. “Elias?”

She said it like a question, as if she were recognizing someone she hadn’t seen in a long time. The second Stack heard the voice, he froze.

The girl looked up, confused. “Sorry?”

Stack turned, slowly. And the moment his eyes met Annie’s, he went still. Panic, guilt, recognition, all flashed across his face at once.

Annie’s lips quirked up as she noticed his anxiousness.

“Oh wow,” she said, playing it smooth, voice light. “Didn’t even know you were in town.”

Mia blinked in faux surprise. “Small world, huh?”

“Crystal.”The girl extended a hand out with her head tilted to the side like she recognized Annie from somewhere, and she hoped she did. 

“Annie.” She shook her hand, a smirk threatening its way out. “Nice to meet you.”

Then she leaned in, giving Stack a side hug as if he were nothing more than an old classmate. He smelled like expensive cologne and guilt.

“I’ll let you two finish up,” she said lightly, stepping back with Mia at her side. “Bathroom’s calling.”

She didn’t look back, but she knew he was watching her. She could feel his eyes staring at her back.

Back at the table, Amber and Natasha were already halfway through the wine. Annie slid back into her seat, quiet. She didn’t have to say anything; they already knew.

Natasha poured another round. Amber passed her the bowl of lemons for her water. 

Twenty minutes later, Stack stood from his table and made his way toward the back, but he didn’t go to the bathroom. He walked to Annie’s server, whispered something, and slipped him a black card. The server nodded, wide-eyed, and walked off.

Annie watched it happen from the corner of her eye. She just took another sip of her wine and let the silence do what Stack couldn’t: speak. -

Annie hadn’t been sleeping much. She was too in her head.

She was back at her place, alone, with clean sheets, burning candles, and untouched wine. But none of it helped.

When she called Smoke, she didn’t even know what she was going to say. But of course, he came anyway. There were no questions or delays from him.

Once he walked in, she was on the floor of her living room, legs crossed in a tank top and shorts. The silence between them stretched until her lips finally moved.

“I went through his phone.”

Smoke moved slowly across the room. And sank down right in front of her. 

“I never do that. I never felt the need to. I trusted him. Both of y’all. I always knew something was off. I didn’t wanna be the girl who goes digging for shit she doesn’t want to find.” Her voice cracked. “But I did. And I found exactly what I didn’t want to see.”

Smoke leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You don’t owe him grace he didn’t earn.”

Annie shook her head, biting back tears. “It’s not about that. It’s about–” she paused. Swallowed hard. “Why wasn’t I enough?”

Smoke’s brows pulled tight.

“I gave him everything. Time, trust, my body. I opened up for him. I let myself belong to him and he still wanted something else.” She looked up, eyes glassy.

Smoke was quiet for a moment, but then he spoke. “He didn’t want that, baby. He just didn’t know what to do with what he had.”

He crawled over to her, slowly and gently, and sat beside her on the floor. He gripped her chin, turning so they could see eye to eye. The emotions running through them sent his heart into a fury. He could punch his brother in the face right now.

“You are more than enough. You’re everything, mama. But he only knows how to be one thing for you. When you need someone who could be all of it.”

The look she gave him was tired, raw, and waiting. Waiting for the right words to be said.

“I’ll be both,” he said softly.

Annie blinked. “What?”

“I’ll be what he couldn’t. I’ll let you take the lead when you need it. And I’ll lead when you’re tired of holding it all. I’ll give you softness when you want to break things. And I’ll give you control when the world won’t let you have any.”

Her throat tightened. “You’d let me?”

“I already do,” he whispered. “But I’ll own it now. I’ll make space for all your versions. The woman who wants to tie me up. The one who needs to be held. The one who doesn’t want to ask for anything, but wants someone to give it anyway.”

Annie’s tears finally fell, slow and quiet.

“You don’t have to be easy to carry,” he said. “You just have to let someone try.”

She leaned into him, collapsed into his chest like her whole body had been waiting to do it.

Smoke just wrapped his arms around her and held on tight. There was no pressure, no demand, just a deep presence and the promise of a different kind of love. 

She stayed pressed into his chest, her breath catching, shoulders trembling.

But Smoke didn’t rush her. He let her breathe in his scent, cedarwood, clean cotton, and the faint smoke of his cigar. His fingers traced slow lines across her back, up her spine, and around the edge of her shoulder blade like he was learning her all over again.

And then she pulled back just enough to look at him. There was a beat between them. A pause that asked everything. And Smoke answered with a kiss. One that was soft, deep, and intentional. 

His lips moved like he’d been waiting to kiss her for real. Not just to taste her, but to heal something in her. His hand cupped the side of her face while the other slid across her thigh, anchoring her.

Annie’s breath hitched again, but this time for a different reason. 

Her fingers fisted the hem of his shirt, tugging him closer until her legs were straddling his lap on the living room floor. Their mouths moved in sync, her kiss a little more desperate, his more grounded. Every time she pulled, he gave. Every time she whimpered, he responded with more pressure.

And then a shift happened. The kind that only he could bring out of her during such emotional moments. 

It was in the way he moaned into her mouth when she sighed his name. The way his thumb stroked under her tank top, gently tracing her ribs. The way his other hand gripped her thigh was tight, not possessive, but protective.

Annie’s hips shifted in his lap instinctively. It was an honest reflex. She didn’t even mean to, but her body was already chasing something warm and aching inside her.

Smoke didn’t stop her. Instead, he kissed her harder. Their lips moved with a sensual passion that would send anyone into a frenzy. 

She rocked slowly against him, letting out soft, breathless moans. He groaned low into her throat, dragging his lips to her jaw, then her neck, and led them right under her ear.

“You feel that?” he whispered. “That’s yours, baby. All of it. You don’t gotta ask.”

She nodded, eyes glassy, mouth open, moaning quietly now into the space between them. Her grip on his shoulders tightened. Her breath picked up. Her thighs trembled.

She was already so wound up, too full of emotion, too empty of affection, and now it was all bleeding out at once. Her movements became shaky. Her rhythm breaking.

“Elijah…” she gasped, barely audible.

“I got you,” he whispered against her mouth, kissing her again. “Don’t hold it. Let it come.”

And so she did.

It started with a moan. Then a stuttered breath. Then her whole body locked around him, her hands fisting the back of his shirt, her face buried into his neck as a quiet, deep wave crashed through her.

She came just like that. From being kissed, held, wanted, and heard. She trembled in his arms for what felt like forever.

Smoke didn’t say anything. Just wrapped his arms around her tighter, kissed the crown of her head, and let her fall apart in peace.

Smoke held her on the floor until her body calmed. Until her breathing leveled. Until her grip on his shirt stopped trembling. He didn’t rush her. Didn’t press for words she wasn’t ready to say.

When she finally looked up, eyes glassy and skin flushed, Smoke ran his thumb along her cheek like she was the most fragile thing he’d ever touched.

“You wanna go lay down?” he asked gently.

Annie nodded.

He tapped her thigh as a signal that he wanted to stand. She allowed him to get up, and he offered his hand. When she took it, he kissed the back of her hand before leading her into her bedroom. The lights were low with soft shadows casting warmth across the sheets.

He didn’t have to ask what she needed; he already knew. And she needed not to choose. Not to have to perform or control anything.

She sat on the bed, silent, and he stepped between her knees. His hands came to her face. His thumbs rubbed the back of her neck ever so gently.

“You trust me tonight?”

Her voice was a whisper. “Yeah.”

“Then let go, baby.”

Annie let out a deep, long exhale. Then nodded.

Smoke peeled the tank top off of her slowly. Like he was unwrapping something delicate. Her sleep shorts followed. She didn’t bother putting on a bra and underwear earlier, so she was bare in front of him. And still, he looked at her like she was everything.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then her cheek, then her neck. He couldn’t help but lick his lips as he stared at his woman. Despite how emotionally wrecked she looked, she was still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

“You can cry,” he said against her skin. “You don’t have to hide any part of how you feel.”

Tears welled again, but they were different now. They weren’t from betrayal, but from the sheer relief of being allowed to feel.

Smoke guided her back onto the bed, lay her down with a softness that he only saved for her. He climbed over her, still fully clothed, until they were face to face.

When he kissed her again, it wasn’t with hunger. It was with devotion. He slid his hands down her body as their mouths moved against each other. A moan escaped from Annie when his hands stopped at her supple breasts. A gasp slipped into her mouth when he kneaded them in slow circles.

He moved one of his hands further until it reached her thighs. He gripped one thigh and wrapped it around his waist. After the thigh settled there, he tapped her leg three times, so she got the hint. She lifted her other leg in autopilot mode.

Smoke pulled back from the kiss, keeping his eyes directly on hers. 

“You ready, baby?” Annie slightly nodded her head in response. 

When he finally slid inside her, it was slow, deep, and grounding. And Annie broke all over again. It wasn’t from the stretch or the thrust, but from how safe she felt. From how complete she was being held.  

Smoke moved like he wasn’t trying to fuck her, but like he was trying to rebuild her. His forehead pressed to hers. His voice was soft between kisses to her jaw and her neck.

“You’re not too much, baby.”

She cried beneath him, and he let her. He never pulled away and never stopped. He moved slowly like his only goal was to make sure her body didn’t forget what it felt like to be cherished.

And when she came, it wasn’t wild or loud. It was trembling and silent. A full-body exhale that left her boneless and raw under his weight. He didn’t chase his own release right away. Just held her there.

Until she finally whispered, voice hoarse, “Don’t stop.”

And he didn’t. Deep grunts rumbled from his throat as his hips quickened their thrusts. Annie squeezed her thighs together, pulling him closer to her in acceptance of the change in pace. She scratched his back, causing his body to tense. He knew they were both on the verge of letting go, so he sped up. Trying to bring them both to the edge as soon as possible. 

Annie moaned. Her hands reached up, tugging his head down so their mouths could meet in a heated kiss. It was only then did he let go. He groaned low against her throat as he came deep inside her, hips rocking slowly, arms locked around her waist like he’d never let her fall again.

Afterward, Smoke didn’t speak. He just tucked her under the sheets, wrapped around her, pressing kisses to her shoulder, her back, the side of her neck in quiet worship.

Smoke’s event always pulled a large crowd. Everyone who was anyone in the city wanted to be there. VIP sections glowing with bottles, the air hazy with cigars and money.

Annie walked in beside Smoke, hand in hand. A long emerald green silk dress hugged her hips, diamonds in her ears, and wine already in her hand before she even reached the section.

Stack was already inside, sitting with the girl, Crystal. She looked a bit uncomfortable once she noticed the couple walking up to them. 

Stack stood up cautiously. His eyes briefly flicked from his brother’s face to Annie’s. He didn’t even realize the way his eyes subtly scanned her body. It had been a few months since he had last seen her at the restaurant. 

Smoke greeted them first, instantly pulling Stack away from the woman. “Yo.”

“Appreciate you pulling up,” Smoke said, dapping him up. There was a slight tension between them, but it wasn’t anything they couldn’t smooth over.

“This is such a nice event.” Crystal walked up behind Stack, placing her hand on his arm. 

Smoke nodded, then shifted slightly as Annie stepped up beside him. She didn’t speak, nor did she look at Stack.

Her gaze slid to the woman beside him instead. “Crystal, right?”

Tasha blinked. “Yeah! You’re—”

“Annie.” A nod. Her face was completely blank. “Enjoy your night.”

Then she turned and walked away with Smoke following in silence, like the conversation never happened.

Crystal watched her leave. “Does she have a problem?”

Stack didn’t answer. Just stared at Annie’s back as she walked away, dress slipping across her body like liquid. Every inch of her posture said unbothered. But he knew her better than that.

-

Annie and Smoke settled into their private section. The lights were low, and the table was already lined with a few bottles. Smoke lit a cigar with one hand, his other resting casually on her silk-covered thigh.

Annie leaned into him, wine glass in one hand, the other dragging soft strokes up and down his arm. She wasn’t saying much, just sipping and looking around. Watching the crowd of people dance and move around each other.

One glass of wine became two. Then three. Then four. And she wasn’t slowing down. Smoke noticed the way she kept pouring the second her glass emptied. He always did.

But Stack noticed too, because he always noticed her. The moment Annie passed her third, Stack’s instincts kicked in. He started counting without realizing it.

Four glasses deep, and she was leaning in too close, her voice a little too loud when she laughed, her hands a little too bold with the way she touched Smoke in public.

Stack watched from across the room, jaw clenched. He used to be the one to stop her before she crossed that line. To pull her back before she spiraled. But now? Smoke just let her be.

Or that’s what he thought.

Because what he couldn’t see was the way Smoke leaned in, cigar resting between his fingers, his voice barely audible over the music, and whispered right into her ear:

“Slow down, baby.” He brushed his thumb over the inside of her knee. “I see you, okay? Drinkin’ this much ain’t gone make the night easier, mama.”

Annie’s fingers paused on his thigh, and her eyes fluttered shut.

-

The club was alive, but not wild. It was that rare sweet spot just after midnight: the music bumping low and heavy through the floor, the air thick with perfume, smoke, and sweat. And VIP sections were glowing with bottle sparkles, everyone beautiful and dressed to be noticed. 

Annie had sent her friends an SOS message after Smoke left her to go handle business with his brother. Within thirty minutes of them getting the message, they were pulling up ready to have a good time. 

Annie sat perched on the edge of the booth, long legs crossed, another glass of red wine in hand. Her hair was straightened and pulled up into a nice slick updo, and her gold jewelry caught the light every time she shifted. Everything was relaxed, quiet, and content. A rare thing lately.

Amber, already two drinks in, leaned back against the cushions, scrolling her phone and sipping slowly from her straw. Mia, of course, was putting on a one-woman show in front of their section, laughing too loud and body rolling to the bass, all while completely sober. 

"Girl," she called, pointing a long acrylic at Annie, “you been sipping the same glass for twenty minutes.”

Annie raised a brow without looking over. “And?”

“And that’s disrespectful to me,” Mia said, sliding back into the booth. “We’re supposed to be having. Act like it.”

Amber laughed behind her cup. “She saving her tolerance. You know, Smoke don’t play about her getting sloppy.”

“Smoke ain’t even here,” Mia said, with a roll of her eyes. “He’s probably upstairs arguing with his evil twin.”

“Right,” Amber said, and they all laughed.

Upstairs, behind black glass and thick velvet curtains, Smoke and Stack were in a meeting room, low-lit and quiet. A few of their men sat along the wall, while the brothers sat across from each other, discussing shipment timelines, payment breakdowns, and other things that never made it into polite conversation.

The conversation wasn’t a quick one, which left Annie and her girls alone. Just a few booths down, Crystal sat with two of her friends. They all looked cute and were having the time of their lives.

Mia had been staring at the group since she walked in.

“I see your new friend is here,” she muttered, nodding toward Crystal’s booth.

Annie didn’t look. Just sipped her wine. “Let her be.”

Amber smirked. “I saw them try to look over here earlier. You think they gone try something?”

“I’m not worried about her,” Annie said calmly.

And she wasn’t. Not tonight, at least.

-

The bathroom was quiet compared to the rest of the club. Annie stood at the sink, drying her hands slowly, and then reapplied her gloss with practiced ease. Her phone buzzed on the counter. Mia had texted something about Amber flirting with one of the bartenders. She smirked, tucked her phone away, and pushed through the door into the hallway.

The crowd had thickened a little since she’d left. There was a new energy filling the packed room. The bass vibrated through her heels as she made her way back to their section, eyes scanning lazily over the room. That’s when she passed them.

Three men leaned against the corner of the hallway near the bar. They were talking to each other loud enough to be heard over the music. They were the kind that tried too hard to be seen. The moment Annie walked by, all three turned.

“God damn,” one of them muttered. “Where you going looking like that?”

Annie didn’t respond; she just kept walking.

Another one stepped forward a little. “Hey, mama, where your man at?”

She didn’t stop, but the wine she had earlier took over her mind, and she decided to speak up. “Anywhere but here.”

That should’ve been enough. But it never was.

“Shit, we can fix that,” the third said, brushing against her shoulder as she passed.

The comment and touch made Annie stop. She turned her head slowly. Annoyance was written all over her face. “I’m good.”

They grinned like this was a game.

The first guy stepped closer. “Aw, come on, don’t walk away like that. We just want to dance.”

She moved to step around him, but he blocked her path.

“I said I’m good,” she repeated, firmer now. “Move.”

He raised his hands. “Damn ma, you ain’t gotta be all aggressive.”

“I’m about to show you how aggressive I can be if you don’t get the fuck out of my face.”

She stepped quickly this time, but the second man reached out and managed to grab her wrist. That’s when everything shifted.

“Yo–”

“Don’t touch me,” Annie snapped, jerking her arm back hard.

The third one laughed like it was funny. “She feisty.”

The first one stepped up behind her, his arms sliding around her waist like he had the right to do it. She shoved against him immediately, twisting to get free.

“I said don’t fucking touch me!”

But he held on, tightening his grip. “Relax. I’m just trying to dance, baby.”

She pushed him back hard. Yet, his grip didn’t budge. And that’s when she started yelling. She was really regretting leaving her purse with the girls, where she kept her knife.

“Get the fuck off me!”

They were tucked away in a corner away from most people. And it seemed like everyone around them was too drunk to notice what was happening. That was until one of the servers walked by. Her eyes were squinted in confusion until she recognized the frustrated woman’s face.

The girl didn’t bother asking questions about what was happening. She swiftly turned away and headed up the stairs towards the offices as quickly as she could.

-

Stack was leaning back in his chair, eyes on the floor plans one of their guys had spread across the table. Smoke stood, arms crossed, jaw clenched as he listened to numbers that didn’t quite add up. Their crew was still lined up on the wall behind them, just waiting for anything out of place to happen.

The room was low-lit, cold. Only the sound of the bass from the club above them pulsed faintly through the walls.

“Tell me again,” Smoke said, calm but firm. “Why we two weeks behind?”

The man in front of them started to speak, but the door burst open. One of their servers walked in, wide-eyed and completely out of breath.

Stack’s head snapped up. “Aye, you don’t just walk yo ass in here. Why Rick ain’t outside?!”

“I–” she gasped, holding onto the frame like she’d almost slipped. “It’s Annie.”

That was all it took for both brothers to freeze.

Smoke straightened. “What about her?”

“She was yelling at some men. They were holding her or some shit like that I couldn’t tell.”

Stack’s face went blank while Smoke was already moving.

“She tried to walk away, but I saw one of them wrap his arms around her–”

Smoke didn’t wait for the full story. He reached behind his back and pulled his gun from his waistband. Stack finally woke out of his daze and grabbed his piece from under the table.

“Where they at?” Smoke asked while moving towards the door.

“Near the bar, far side of the floor,” the waitress stammered. “Corner table.”

Smoke was gone in an instant. And Stack followed without a word. Four of their men peeled off the wall and moved quickly, following behind them. 

Nobody said anything, but the air was tense the moment they stepped on the floor. People didn’t know what was happening, but they knew something was.

The twins moved through the crowd with their crew right behind them. They walked with purpose the moment they saw her. She was exactly where the girl said she would be. But she wasn’t completely alone.

It seems like in the time that it took for the server to go upstairs and the twins to come downstairs, Mia had worked her way across the floor. She was now standing directly in front of Annie, one arm out, and her voice raised loud enough to cut through the music. 

All three of the men looked completely thrown off now. The one who had grabbed Annie was backing up, hands raised, trying to laugh it off like shit wasn’t serious.

Annie didn’t say anything. Her eyes were locked on the three in front of her, cold and unblinking.

Mia turned just in time to see the brothers walking up and pointed. “These nasty ass niggas right here.”

The man who’d touched Annie barely got a word out. “Wait–hold on–”

Smoke grabbed him by the shirt, dragging him forward with force that knocked the table behind them sideways.

Stack snatched the second one before he could even blink. “You put your hands on her?”

“I didn’t know, man! I didn’t kno–”

“Don’t matter,” Stack growled, twisting his arm and forcing him to his knees. “She said no. That’s all I need.”

The third man tried to run, but one of the dudes in their crew caught him by the collar before he even got two feet away. The entire club was watching now, but no one moved. They didn’t dare to.

As they dragged the men toward the back hallway, they passed by the booths where all their girls’ friends were still. Crystal stood from her booth the second she saw Stack dragging the man.

“Stack?” she called, brows knit. “What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look her way. She exchanged a confused, unsettled glance with one of her friends.

Annie and her friends followed behind the men. Annie’s face showed how upset she still was. Crystal decided that she needed answers as to what was happening and followed right behind them, curiosity outweighing sense.

Smoke and Stack shoved the men into a private hallway. There were two rooms connected. One had a conference table with large glass windows, and the other had a few couches and comfortable chairs.

Stack turned to the girls. “Y’all stay here.”

He looked at one of his guys. “Close this shit off. Nobody in or out.”

Annie sat on one of the couches, her arms crossed, with Mia to her left and Amber to her right. They didn’t have to ask what was going to happen because they already knew. The door slammed shut, but the women could still see through the glass.

Stack cracked his knuckles and asked a single question. “Who touched her first?”

They all pointed at each other, but it didn’t matter. They watched as Smoke threw the first punch. And it was all fists after that. The three men were trying to fight back, but they were too weak and overpowered.

At some point, Stack had called for one of his men to cover the windows so the women wouldn’t see anymore of the violence.

Crystal was the only one standing there with wide eyes. She had been watching in stunned silence. She took one step forward, like maybe she’d say something, then thought better of it. 

Inside, they continued until the men were barely upright. Blood was all over the floor, and the three men were practically begging for their lives.

A few minutes later, the door opened again. Smoke and Stack stepped out. Stack wiped his knuckles with a cloth, then tossed it to Smoke, who did a quick wipe of his hands and threw it away. Both of them walked back toward the women like nothing had happened.

Annie stepped forward, calm as ever. She didn’t ask if they were okay. She just walked up to Smoke and smoothed one hand over his chest.

“You good?” she asked quietly, voice only for him.

Smoke nodded once. “Now I am.”

Annie looked down at his hands and hummed. Smoke wrapped one arm around her waist. Annie felt the words that he was trying to communicate to her.

They didn’t notice anyone else when Annie pulled Smoke by the hand, leading him back down the hallway and towards the lower level office. Neither of them said much.

He opened the door to a cool, clean, organized office but didn’t bother to lock it behind them.

Annie stood in the center of the room, eyes sharp but body humming with adrenaline. The wine, the fight, the heat of his hands on that man’s collar, all of it was still sitting in her chest. Smoke stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, hands firm and grounding.

“You alright?”

She nodded, but her body was still tense.

“You sure?”

She took a deep breath, trying to breathe through her feelings. “I hate when they look at me like that.”

Smoke leaned in, mouth close to her ear. “You know I got you, baby.”

And that was all it took.

Annie turned around and kissed him with a deep energy she hadn’t been able to release. Smoke pushed them back until her body hit the desk behind her. His hands slid down her thighs and lifted her onto the desk like it was nothing. Her dress bunched around her waist. Parted legs waited for him without hesitation.

But Smoke didn’t rush it. He never did. He dropped to his knees first.

His hands slid her panties down slowly, dragging the fabric along her skin. Without taking his eyes off her body, he slipped them into his back pocket. He kissed the inside of each thigh, his breath hot, lips soft. His voice was low and steady.

He peeled her panties down slowly, kissing the inside of her thighs, whispering steadily.

“I’ll always take care of you, baby. You know that, right?” Smoke looked up, noting the way Annie’s chest was quickening with each kiss.  “You belong to me, Annie. Say it.”

She was already breathless when she whispered, “I belong to you.”

Smoke’s mouth curled into a smirk. “Good girl.” 

He gripped her thighs and hooked them over his shoulder. It pulled her body to the edge, and a gasp escaped her lips the moment he went in. She felt him drag his tongue from her entrance to her clit.

Annie moaned, her hand flying to the edge of the desk. Smoke didn’t let up. He licked and kissed her with a certain hunger that could only be satisfied by her.

Her head fell back. “Elijah–”

He groaned, the sound vibrating through her, and started again. Licking and sucking her in quick, precise strokes. One hand on her stomach to keep her still, the other gripping her thigh tight like he needed to hold her together while he broke her down.

Annie started to shake. Her moans filled the office, sharp and broken, her hips bucking gently against his mouth before his grip stilled her again.

“C’mon, let it out, baby,” he murmured against her. “I want to hear you.”

And she did. Her voice cracked, and her thighs trembled as he flicked his tongue in circles. Then pressed flat again, watching her every reaction, adjusting like a man born to please her. Because he was.

Her body began to tremble under his mouth, a soft stuttering kind of desperation.

“Dadd– Elijah, I– please–”

“You safe now?” he whispered, licking slower.

“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good.”

And only then did he stand. He kissed her, making sure she tasted every part of herself on his tongue. Then he pushed into her slowly so as not to take her away from what he was doing in her mouth. And her whole body sang.

He fucked her slow, deep, and possessive. His hands held her hips tight while hers clung to him like he was the only solid thing left in the world.

When he hit that spot that made her gasp, her head fell back, and she cried out.

-

Meanwhile, outside the office, Stack was standing at the edge of the hall, his back to the wall, Crystal at his side, pissed.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” she demanded.

Stack wasn’t looking at her. His jaw was tight, still clenched from everything that had just gone down.

“I am talking.”

“No, you’re ignoring me. Ever since we walked in here and you saw Annie you’ve got this stick up your ass. I wanna know what the hell is going on?”

Stack didn’t answer.

Crystal stepped closer. “Are you still in love with her?”

At the question, the hallway was silent. Stack looked off to the side, not bothering to try to come up with an answer.

But it wasn’t quiet for too much longer. There was a long, familiar, guttural moan coming from behind the door, a little bit from them.

Crystal froze. Her eyes were stuck on the door across from them. 

Another moan came through. 

“Yes, Daddy–”

Stack’s expression didn’t move, but his hands curled into fists at his sides.

Crystal stared at the man. “Stack.”

He said nothing.

She reached for him. “Stack. Don’t—”

But he was already walking toward the door. He turned the handle and walked inside.

-

The door clicked open, and Stack stepped inside. He didn’t make a sound, but Smoke could still feel his presence. There was a shift in the air. 

Still, he didn’t stop. If anything, he went deeper and harder.

Annie gasped and her arms wrapped tighter around his shoulders, and her legs hooked at his waist. She didn’t know why it hit her harder just then. She only knew something was changing.

Smoke buried his face against her throat, voice low and velvet-dark. “Look at me, baby.”

She tried, truly. But her eyes drifted. They were drawn by something behind him. And there he was. Stack. Leaning against the closed office door, watching. Well, watching her. His eyes locked onto hers.

Annie should’ve pulled away, felt some type of shame, or something. But she didn’t. Instead, she melted.

Her back arched, and a soft, desperate cry fell from her lips. The sound was so full it hurt. And her eyes never left Stack’s.

“Daddy–” she whimpered, her voice fragile and glassy, meant for Smoke but echoing between them all.

Smoke growled against her skin.

“You feel that?” he whispered against her ear. “You feel how deep I am? How safe you are?”

She nodded fast, her body trembling.

“Say it again.”

“Daddy.”

Smoke didn’t even look back to know that Stack was watching. And maybe, just maybe, he wanted him to. Because this was what it looked like to take care of her right. Not just fuck her. But worship her. Even when someone else had the chance and fumbled it.

Her fingers dug into his back, her breath a shattered rhythm. Her head fell back, tears clinging to her lashes from the sheer euphoria of it.

And through it all, Stack just stood there. Quietly watching them, completely wrecked.

-

Annie was still trembling. Her body limp, her voice quiet, her skin hot from the rush still rolling through her. Smoke held her against his chest, his fingers gently tracing up and down her back while she pressed kisses to his neck like she was trying to anchor herself.

He didn’t rush her need for comfort.

“You good, mama?” he murmured.

She nodded, barely.

He tilted her chin up. Kissed her forehead. “Stay here.”

Annie looked up at him, eyes foggy but locked in. “Where are you going?”

“I won’t be long.”

He helped her sit back gently on the couch, tucking the hem of her dress down with care. He placed a gentle kiss on her lips before he turned toward the door.

At some point, Stack had left the office before they finished. But Smoke knew exactly where to find him.

He stepped out into the back hallway. Stack stood near the exit to the VIP stairs, his back to the wall, head down, jaw tight. Smoke walked up, stood a few feet away, arms crossed.

Stack didn’t look at him at first.

“She called you ‘daddy,’” Stack muttered, voice low.

Smoke raised a brow. “She did.”

“I used to make her do that.”

Smoke exhaled through his nose. “Yeah, you can’t do that no more now, huh?”

Stack turned to him now, eyes heavy, dark with something between guilt and anger. “You were trying to rub it in my face.”

Smoke stepped forward, voice low and sharp. “You walked in, Stack. I didn’t invite you. But maybe you needed to see what it looks like when you love a woman, right?”

Stack didn’t respond.

“You don’t just fuck her and praise her and play protector when it’s easy,” he said. “You hold her through the breakdowns. You listen when she’s mad at nothing and everything. You show up. Even when you don’t feel like it. Even when she’s being a fucking brat.”

Stack looked away.

Smoke shook his head slowly. “You wanted her to break for you, but you never showed her she’d be whole again with you.”

Stack was still silent.

Smoke took a breath. “Learn how to love a woman, Stack. Really love her.” He stepped back, ready to walk away. “Because if you do, she’ll love you back something crazy. She’ll give you things you didn’t even know you needed.”

Stack stayed still. And Smoke turned and walked away, back to the office, back to her. Because that’s where he belonged now.

And Stack?

Stack was gonna have to live with the fact that she calls for someone else the way she used to call for him. -

-

-

-

Taglist: @stormynovashambler @coolfoodrunworld-blog @katezy2x @lizbehave @summrsovrinterlude @bigjh @tadjoa @puffmamaa

[someone-writing]

Today's menu:⋆. 𐙚˚࿔ Headcanon 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Pleasure to meet you, Doctor Spencer Reid gender neutral!reader

Spencer Reid... is a man who, in my eyes, eats the raisins from the mix of dried fruits and nuts. (In that “no one else wants them, so I will” sort of way... this may not be just about raisins.)

Spencer Reid... is not a bad cook, but he religiously holds to the recipe, so in case he is missing something extremely specific, he doesn't know how to work around it.

And he neither knows for how long to mix some things to not over-mix them, nor how much boiling is too much, etc.

Give him a recipe that requires measuring to micrograms and cooking for exactly 17 minutes, 25 seconds and 4 milliseconds, and he is a Michelin chef.

Give him your granny's recipe with 'Bake for 12–17 minutes and add a spoon of salt', and the man will be screaming in despair over how big that spoon is supposed to be, and he burns the thing to a crisp because he's scared to underbake it.

Spencer Reid... who would love to share clothes with his partner, but only under the condition that he will still know where to find them later.

Spencer Reid... who supports the academic rebellion against the publishing companies because research should be accessible to everyone. (Ehm... he would maybe even be one of the archive donors under a fake name...)

Spencer Reid... was a kid who took his time and learned sign language the moment he found out that one of his old neighbours back in Vegas had hearing problems.

Spencer Reid... is not a picky eater because of his childhood, but he avoids some types of food because of their texture when he can (for example: dried dates, soggy cornflakes, overripe bananas, and pears).

Spencer Reid... never really played any games, but Penelope made it her crusade to teach him how to play Mario Kart. (He is surprisingly good at it.)

Spencer Reid... has one pair of shoes he’s been buying for several years in a row at this point (those black sneakers), and he no longer even bothers to try them on in the shop. The moment they have a hole at the bottom, he just walks to the shoe shop, grabs the box in his size, checks that they don’t have any manufacturing defects, and pays for them.

Spencer Reid... is a man who smiles and waves back at smiling children when they wave at him first. Because they deserve to meet happiness and goodness while they still can. And hey... it’s just a smile. That’s the bare minimum.

Spencer Reid... is a man who cannot watch medical dramas with his partner—or unsupervised either. Because that man yaps about the medical inaccuracies and has to bite his tongue every time to not scream “Chest compressions! Chest compressions! Chest compressions!” when one of the characters whips out a defibrillator in a case where the patient's heart has stopped.

Spencer Reid... who is a cat person, but if he had a dog, it would be an English Cocker Spaniel called Remi, who was supposed to be trained as a search and rescue dog.

But she was too sad when she didn’t find the training figurines alive, so they had to remove her from the program and offered her for adoption. And so... the search and rescue dog found the man who needed to be found.

Spencer Reid... takes his time when the day of 'Bring Your Kid to Work' comes. He always hangs around to speak with the kids who are left behind—too shy to ask anything, or in general not really included—and answers every question they may have. (He is surprisingly the favourite agent, but he himself doesn’t know about it.)

Spencer Reid... who would crawl on his knees up the stairs from hell to heaven for his partner, but at the same time doesn’t need them to be with him 24/7.

Just the idea of sharing a flat with them makes him happy. Just the idea that behind that wall is the one person who loves him is enough. (He is like a turtle—he is hidden most of the time, but he loves the idea of closeness that is not completely obvious.) Being near them, letting them sleep on his shoulder, watching them move around the shared space, or hearing them hum from the living room—and the man is a puddle on the ground.

Spencer Reid... in my eyes, is a man who doesn’t mind dog-ears and broken spines on books. He wouldn’t do it purposefully to destroy the book—no, he has respect for the thing. But for him, those are the signs that the book was read again and again, and that it was well loved.

When he gets his hands on old antique books, he lingers a bit longer on the places where the spine is broken, trying to figure out what might have caused the previous owner to stay on that particular page longer than the others.

In his eyes, books are supposed to be worn down by time, by the hands that held them and turned their pages. Books are supposed to be read and loved.

Spencer Reid... is a man who appreciates those whimsical designs you can find on canned fish and boxes of matches, because he knows that even something so... useless and mundane got enough care from someone.

Something small for today :] And this may or may not be the canon for Spencer that exists in my stories so... yeah, maybe we will meet Remi one day And I'm definitely planning to write more of those head canons Hope you enjoyed! Underline note for the recipe: I'm not a native speaker, 'pardon my French' and any mistakes, but we're cooking in freestyle here

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

I know you just did a Void one, but it can be anything with void or Sentry. I have no specific ideas, but i love your work!! Im sorry, im terrible at coming up with ideas.

A/N: I love writing for this man. Thank you for sending this :) I focused more on Void, but I don't mind trying to think of Sentry ideas too!

Thank you to everyone who's been commenting and sending request please continue to send me your ideas <3

Summary: The Void has always haunted Bob. You just never expected it to start haunting you. When the nightmares begin—dreams where Bob speaks in a voice that isn’t quite his—you begin to wonder if the darkness inside him is learning how to reach you.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

You wake up sweating. Not from the heat. Not from the blankets twisted around your legs. Not even from the headache that was slowly blooming behind your eyes like an afterthought. You wake up because he said your name again.

That voice that curls like smoke and silk into your dreams. A version of Bob, that was nothing but hollow. Colder. Something that sounds like him but had no warmth to him.

"He loves you," he says, standing in the middle of the apartment you and Bob just moved into like he belonged there. Bob's face...Bob's eyes... "But I understand you." That voice--that was the only thing that alerted you that what was in front of you was far from Bob.

You bolt upright in bed, breath ragged, and turn your head to focus on real man—Bob, asleep next to you, golden skin lit faintly by the moonlight coming through the blinds. His hair a little wild. His brow peaceful. Unaware. Untouched.

And for the third time this week, you can’t tell if that makes it better or worse. You don’t tell him right away. Honestly what were you supposed to say?

Hey, you know your dark little entity? The damn parasite of a fucked-up alter ego well it's been flirting with me in my dreams. Also, he somehow knows about my abandonment issues. You want jelly on your toast?

Yeah, that wouldn't go smoothly. Instead, you just kept moving through the routine the two of you were comfortable in, even if you felt like you were being suffocated in smoke.

Make coffee. Kiss Bob on the cheek. Push his hair away from his eyes. Let him wrap his arms around you from behind while you wash dishes. He hums against your neck like everything’s okay, and for a moment, you almost believe it. Until night came. Until the whisper comes again—closer now. Close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin.

"You keep him soft it's good for him, you're good for him." the Void says as it sits beside you in the dream, all the light drained from the room before your eyes. Bob's eyes went from the beautiful blue to the darkest black you've ever seen. No stars, no glow, just despair. "But I've seen you too. I've been watching. You want someone to take care of you. Someone that wouldn't hesitate to burn the world to ash for you." He turns completely to focus solely on you. "We both know I would do that for you my little dove."

You wake up gasping for air with your hands shaking and the sheets half pulled off the bed. Bob stirs beside you, murmuring something soft, something that could calm you if you were able to hear him over the ringing in your ears. He was completely unaware that you’re watching him with your heart trying to claw its way up your throat.

The next morning, you’re quiet. Bob notices. He always notices you. You’re slicing an apple for breakfast, and he leans on the counter, head tilted. “You haven’t made fun of my old-man cereal once this week. I’m getting concerned.” You force a smile. “I like Raisin Bran now. Personal growth.”

“Liar.” He studies you, frowning. “You look tired.” You freeze, knife hovering mid-air. Then, without looking at him: “…Bobby... Have you ever dreamed of the Void?” You could hear his breathing get stuck in his throat as he went stiff. The air shifts like as soon as you muttered his name he just appeared. Then with a voice low: “He doesn’t sleep.”

You tell him everything that night. You expect him to flinch. To apologize. To get angry. To vanish. Something. But he just listens. He sits on the couch, legs spread, slightly hunched over with his hands clasped between his knees as you stand across the room and tell him what it said. What it looked like. He stays silent, not interrupting you in any way.

"...It's you but it's not. It's...It's like it learned your face to try and convince me to trust him. And it doesn't feel evil, just honest, brutally so. And-and that is so much worse somehow."

His eyes are distant, pure concern flashes across his facial features. Then: “That’s how it talks to me, too.” You look over at him as Bob lifted his head, eyes sad and far too calm. “He tells me he's the real version of me. The strong one. The only one who sees what is actually real. That I’m the shadow pretending to be human.” You sit beside him slowly. “Is it?”

“No.” His answer is immediate. Firm. But then his voice wavers. “But some days… it gets harder to not believe it.”

A long silence. And then—he slides his hand into yours. “I didn’t know it could find you.”

“I didn’t either,” you whisper. He shakes his head in disbelief, “I’m so sorry.” You shake your head in return. “Don’t apologize. It’s not you. He wants me to think it is. That’s the game.” Bob’s jaw clenched and his hand tightens their grip on you.

“Then we won’t play.” That night, he doesn’t let go of you. Not even in sleep. And for the first time in a week, you dream of nothing. Just his arms around you and the sound of rain tapping the windows. No voice. No void. Just warmth.

But in the corner of the room, behind the mirror…

A shadow watches, just like he promised. With the cruel, crooked smile.

"You will always play my game little dove..."

If you like my work please let me know! Reblogging, commenting and liking are huge and easy ways to let me know you're enjoying my work and it keeps me motivated to post way more!!! Request are open <3 I think everyone I tagged wanted to be added but if you don't want to be tagged in future Bob post just lmk!

Tagging:

@msfirth

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[houseofthedragonn]

Hey love i have a request. Could you write a smut where reader is a targaryen in a marriage for duty with cregan. They spend months cold with each other just performing marital duties to concieve a child. But one day something shifts in cregan and just goes POUND TOWN. It could be jealousy, him not being able to hold himself back or stark breeding king…maybe all of the above…whatever you decide😘

-🤍

hi love!! of course, hope you don’t mind i see it as a targ who defects away from the greens as cregan is loyal to his father’s oath to rhaenyra so makes more sense

jealous,

cregan stark x targ!wife

SUMMARY cold cregan gets jealous and takes you like he never has before, for love and not just duty

WARNINGS smuuuut, breeding, cockwarming

“THE WOLF OF THE NORTH IS TOO COLD TO you, sister… should have married Aemond or I when you still had the chance,” Aegon vexed me at the family feast our father Viserys called for, my grandsire not long for this world, the Stranger surely coming for him sooner rather than later.

Which was why he wanted all of his grandchildren, and all their betrotheds, to be together one last time before he died.

His Targaryen and Velaryon grandchildren, despite all the sordid history between both our mothers. And between each other. Aemond still harbored resentment for both of his Strong nephews. And for me, his younger sister the traitor. Defected from the Greens to join my older half-sister Rhaenyra’s house. As I never wanted to marry either of my wicked brothers. But my marriage arranged by Rhaenyra, in exchange for Stark’s Northern troops, proved to be one of duty only in the months thus far. Only performing our martial duties to conceive an heir and not for pleasure. How I was used to after learning how to from my visits to the Street of Silk’s best brothels.

How I longed to make love with my handsome husband.

“I would rather let the Stranger take me than marry either of you imbeciles… and Cregan may be cold to me, but I am still fire and blood—I shall melt Stark’s icy heart soon enough. And Cregan makes for a far more handsome husband than either of you,” I spat back in a whisper, without even sparing Aegon a glance, sat in between him and Cregan, who would rather talk to Jacaerys than his own wife.

As he harbored a distrust for the Targaryens trying to usurp the throne that was rightfully Rhaenyra’s.

Whom his father swore an oath of fealty to, one he vowed to uphold. Starks did not forget their oaths. But Cregan could not forget either how meeting his beautiful betrothed made him feel. Though a Targaryen, thus he was conflicted, and held back his desire. It got harder with each passing day, wanting nothing more than to breed his beautiful bride out of love, and not just duty. But now hearing how Aegon dare spoke to me stirred deep feelings of jealousy in Stark, as I was still his wife.

And despite my best efforts for him to not hear me, Cregan caught the last bit of me calling him far more handsome.

“Even so, I regret the disappointment you suffer. If you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask, dear sister…” Aegon kept up with his vexations, his hand too overly familiar with me, resting on knee until he moved up towards my thigh.

That was when Cregan could not hold back any longer, and shot up out of his seat at once. As did Aemond and Jace.

“If you’ll excuse me, King Viserys and Queen Alicent, I must speak with the Princess—in private…” Stark suddenly spoke after the tension lingered in the air.

Aemond and Jace took their seats once again after there was no fight to be had where they had to help Aegon and Cregan.

Still, Stark easily towered over everyone at the supper table, even the King himself. Whom was well aware why they called his daughter’s husband the Wolf of the North. And in his old, decrepit state was in no shape to debate the matter with the broad shouldered, strapping young man.

“Very well, Lord Stark. But do not be long…” My father warned, allowing us to take our leave from the table.

Without another word, Cregan took me by the arm and led me out of the dining room, much to my confusion.

“Oh, so now you wish to speak with me, Stark? After months of being so bloody cold even my wretched brothers could tell!” I shouted in the hallway, not caring what servants heard.

“Aye, I do wish to speak with you, Princess—but not here. Isn’t there somewhere more private we may go? Your old chambers shall do…” Cregan commanded me rather than asked.

I was still frustrated with him, but part of me was curious as to why Stark desperately needed to speak in private. Longing to finally get to know my handsome husband. So begrudgingly I acquiesced his order. Wordlessly pushing past him, I marched all the way upstairs towards the royal apartments. To my old quarters. With the Wolf of the North on my heels. Once we were alone together inside, he slammed the heavy door shut behind him at once. Tiring of the theatrics, I sat on my old, big featherbed. Running my hands over the sheets where I was taken so pleasurably by lovers before my betrothal to Cregan.

“Now what is so important that you must speak with me in private, Stark?” I sighed, starting to feel the heat from all the cups of wine we both drained to get through the dinner.

“Nothing at all, Princess… I just detested how your imbecile brother dare speak to you—how he dare touch you with your husband sitting right beside you!” Cregan frustratedly ran his large hands through his long dark hair, yelling.

He was jealous. If the red flushing his handsome face from anger and drink were any indication.

“Why? You barely touch me yourself, and when you do it is only out of duty, not pleasure! Mayhaps I should take Aegon up on his offer. It has been some time since I’ve been well-satisfied, Stark!” I played with fire by taunting Cregan like that but I only wanted him to do something. I needed him to—I needed him.

And by the sultry look that came over Stark, I knew I would get what I wanted. What we both wanted more than anything.

“If pleasure and to be well-satisfied is what you want, then you shall have it. But I must warn you, I cannot hold back my deep desire for you any longer… in truth, it’s why I’ve been so cold. I’ve been so afraid of hurting you, my pretty Princess,” Cregan admitted, stepping closer to me on the bed with every word.

Unlatching his wolf’s fur cloak, he let it fall to the stone floor.

“Oh, it is not only what I want, my handsome husband… I need it—I need you. All of you, so do not hold back. Trust me when I say I can take it. Before our betrothal, I sought my pleasure on the Street of Silk… think you can do better?” I teased, unlacing my dress at the front slowly, Stark watching with hungry eyes.

“Think? I know I can do far better, beautiful… but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Cregan flashed me a wolfish grin, stripping himself of his leather shirt until he was left in his tunic and trousers, kicking off his boots.

I did the same with my shoes, shedding my skirts that joined his cloak on the stone floor, until I was left in my chemise.

“Maybe show me instead of warn me… or are you all bark and no bite, Wolf of the North?” I taunted, spreading my legs.

Heat emanating between my thighs, where I needed him most. And the sight alone was enough for Stark to jump my bones.

“Oh, trust me, I can bite… if that’s what you like, Princess…” Cregan climbed into bed, straddling me, under the weight of all his muscle as his hot mouth attacked mine ravenously.

Our hands flew to one another’s hair. Harshly tugging, tangled up in each other’s fingers as we moaned into the messy kiss. I felt his teeth bite down hard on my bottom lip.

“Fucking hells! Yes… just like that, Stark…” I sighed, shocked by the pain I found pleasure in, even if he would leave my lips swollen and bruised.

“I’m just getting started, love…” Cregan growled in my ear, his mouth moving on to attack my neck, nipping and sucking hard until he left my flesh red with love bites.

“Oh, Cregan… fuck that feels so good, don’t stop…” I heaved, feeling wetness pool in my cunt that needed him desperately.

“I won’t if you beg me just like that, gorgeous… gods, how I ache for you—see what you do to me, my love?” Stark sighed, his big hands sliding under my chemise to squeeze my breasts.

Looking down in between us, I saw how his hard cock strained against his trousers. Begging to be freed, I let my hands fall from his hair to do just that. Unlacing his tunic first, I tossed it to the stone floor in our pooling pile of fine clothes. Before I finally got to his trousers that he helped me pull off of him in a feverish manner. Joining the rest of our garments, he was bare before me in all his handsome, muscled glory.

His long, thick cock, red and throbbing, I took in my hands.

“Hells… you’re so fucking big—bigger than any lover I’ve ever had before…” I breathlessly admitted, pumping him but still not able to hold all of him with even both my hands. My mouth watering at the sheer sight, “I need you… inside—now…”

“Good gods, Princess… whatever you want, you shall have…” Cregan slurred, lust drunk from my touch, lining himself up with my folds. “Fuck, your cunt’s so wet for me, my love. But I need this wretched gown off, I need to see all of you…”

Ripping my chemise down the middle, Stark tore it off of me. Sending the shreds sailing to the stone floor before entering.

“Fucking hells, Cregan!” I cried out as his cock split me open.

Squeezing his broad shoulders as my walls squeezed him, my nails left marks on his flesh, dragging down his muscled back.

“Gods… you’re so tight, Princess—fuck!” Stark panted as we found a steady pace and the wet sounds of our sex filled my old royal chambers with our moans.

Cregan craned his head down to kiss me again, even needier and messier than the last. Our tongues fighting for dominance until his won. His hips snapping into mine faster and faster. As our hands ran all over each other’s burning frames. His taking my breasts, fingers massaging my flesh until my nipples were hard from his touch. His lips left mine to suck on them as he fucked me hard into the feather bed, holding my hips down.

“Hells, don’t stop, Stark!” I moaned, a whining mess under him as he pounded cunt numb, my hands pulling his hair.

His mouth left my tits with a wet pop, burying his head in the crook of my neck as he moaned my name again and again.

“Such a fucking good girl for me, begging for her husband’s cock like a whore…” Cregan snarled in my ear, as his hands held mine above my head.

My mind made mush as I could not form any more words. Only lie there and take it as he pounded my pussy like a rabid hound taking a bitch in heat. Looking down to see how my glistening wet cunt swallowed him whole over and over. Feeling the veins of his thick cock that twitched inside of my walls he stretched. Pounding into me at a punishing pace, it burned, but in the best way possible. Pleasure and pain mixing as he hit the spot in my pulsing cunt, edging me closer and closer to coming around his cock. Holding my hands with only one of his large ones, his other pressed down hard against my belly. Feeling just how deep he reached inside of me.

“I need to see this belly swollen with my pups… I’m going to breed you—fill you up with my seed until you cannot take anymore…” Stark growled as he bottomed out inside of me over and over again until his hips were flush against mine, every inch of him buried deep inside my clenching cunt.

“Breed me, Stark, please!” I begged, panting and squirming underneath him. Feeling myself growing closer to orgasm, “I’m so close!”

“Fucking gods, keep squeezing me like this, and I’ll come with you… but not yet, so you can’t come now, Princess…” Cregan commanded as my cunt clenched harder and harder around him. I tried to last as long as I could, “Fuck yes, just like that… my gorgeous, good girl…”

Stark circled my clit with his fingers fast and hard, praising me until I could not hold off my orgasm any longer.

“Cregan… I can’t wait—I’m going to come!” I cried, feeling tears prick at my eyes from the pain mixing with pleasure and how overstimulated my cunt was from his touch.

“Come for me, my pretty Princess…” Stark ordered, and by the way his cock throbbed inside me, I knew Cregan was on the edge, too.

“Oh, Stark, fuck!” I moaned high pitched and whining, as I came around his cock so hard I was shaking.

Squeezing every last drop of his come as he came with me, moaning my name loudly before biting down on my shoulder, marking me as his.

“Good fucking gods, Princess! You take my cock so well…” Cregan cried out, his thrusts sloppier as his seed shot inside me, warmth washing over my wet walls, white with his come.

We rode out our highs together, my pussy pulsing around his throbbing cock. As he held me in his strong arms until we slowed to a stop. Stark staying inside of me, mumbling about how he didn’t want to waste a single drop. We just laid there together, the feast downstairs long forgotten.

[tojisteddy]

“Need a Vacation?”

or: Keegan P. Russ is feeling the effects of a terrible relationship and the bullshit around him…. Nothing his ex-fuck buddy couldn’t fix.

cw: 18+ mdni, 3.2k words, smut with plot, modern AU, morally gray! reader, ex-fuck buddy! Reader, cheating (? On Keegan’s end), childhood friends!reader, kinda toxic, reader! has tattoos, p in v, unprotected sex, parental issues, car sex, angry sex, reverse cowgirl, backshots, a bit of overstim, Keegs! talks you through it, pussy slapping.

a/n: inspo I Know by Big Sean ft Jhene Aiko

You were a temptress at heart.

Had people swooning for you just from the flutter of your long lashes.

Keegan knew that from the way you so sweetly asked the other neighborhood boys to do your choirs and they did it, got exactly what you wanted by playing nice—

He never thought it would fester into— this.

Charisma out the wazoo, an enchanting smile and voice, beauty that could match no other in that damned town you two used to swear was cursed. A place you two both said you’d get out of.

Only Keegan left.

You were unmoving, and maybe it was the things or the people keeping you there. But that little town full of hillbillies and old people and trailer homes, was what you knew best. You had eyes that could read prey so easily, get what you want and leave, and maybe Keegan was one one of them. He never knew when it came to you.

The waters that you were, changed as you got older, the man didn’t know if he was in the shallow, the deep end or getting sucked up in a whirlpool. But he couldn’t help but follow you, lost in you, a siren call.

Friends to fuck buddies was never a good idea.

It changes everything. No matter how hard you try to ignore it. Maybe it was Keegan’s first girlfriend that lasted more than half a year that everything moved so fast. Too fast for Keegan’s liking. Parents suddenly MIA, so he clung onto his girlfriend at the time— Carmen— you didn’t like her.

Not one bit.

But you weren’t rude to her, put on that charming smile, let her play freely in your field, till she made a wrong move and you stuck your fangs into her, sharp. Let the venom seep into her so she ran away.

Leaving you and Keegan alone, again.

But things change, your first heartbreak changes you, and then you suddenly get sent off to another country for a year. You try to fix the mistake of not speaking properly, call the girl who you loved— romantically? platonically?— Keegan just knew he loved you. But it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough to just leave you behind without a word.

You fought like two tigers on a two hour call, you were supposed to be on work break, him on a base hundreds of miles away in a different country— leaving nothing but blood on each other's mouths, scars that would take time to heal.

Thank God for distance.

But one year turns into two, two turns into three— five years pass for Keegan to come back into town.

Not for you, not for his friends, not to reminisce— to see if anything was left of his parents. They’re not dead, they call his phone from random numbers sporadically. That they’re in Mexico, or was it Switzerland the last time they called?

Somewhere that they didn’t let him call back when he was on a mission. Not voice mail either.

It bothered him to his core. Festered and festered, and created a hole of longing in a part of his heart. So he came back, said hello to some old friends— people who weren’t you— old neighbors. Asked around about his parents and why they ditched him but got left with shrugs and worry if Keegan was okay with not seeing them for long.

He didn’t answer that part, just gave a pained smile.

Empty handed, he led himself to that bar in town— by a new name in new lights and decorations. Different drunkards hung around, middle aged men and women hanging around drinking to ease the middle of the work week.

And then, like it couldn't get any better worse, there you stood. In all your glory, curls around your face, brown eyes showing through the dim and l.e.d signs, jeans hugging you perfectly, an off the shoulder, sleeveless blouse, orange and pink, your tattoos peeking through the material with every movement. It was perfect on you, a complete contrast from the regular work attire almost everyone in the bar was wearing.

You were shaking your head at something, the smallest smile on your plump lips, and your eyes wandered. You mumbled to your friends you’d be back, walking over to wear the slightly older man stood.

“Look at what the cat dragged in! Didn’t know cunts came here.” You practically sing, but you’re leering. You could hold a mean grudge.

So could Keegan.

“Didn’t know shitty brats hung around here either, guess we’re one in the same.” He hums, taking a swing of his bourbon.

“Nice one Keegs,” you scuff, “So very nice.”

His eyes are stuck on you, maybe it was you using that nickname— when’s the last time he heard that?

You pat your hands on the bar like a drum as you take a seat on the stool beside him, “How is she?”

He blinks once, twice, getting himself out of the daze that you had him in. Gorgeous girl, even sexier with time.

“Who?”

“The girl that I saw you posted not too long ago.”

Of course you fucking saw that. Despite not talking for so long you still followed each other on social media, naturally. ‘Just in case’ kind of thing. ‘just in case’ never came.

Just randomly liked posts from the both of you.

So yeah, maybe he did see you on the back of a couple peoples dirt bikes, and you snogging a couple men, that boyfriend who lasted all but a month. Did Russ hate it?

Not the question he’ll answer tonight. Let’s go back to the original question.

The girl he posted— was his girlfriend. Or ex-girlfriend. Or girlfriend in waiting.

They were on a “break.”

Much needed, Keegan was tired of the fighting, didn’t care for subliminal messages, the interrogations after being stuck at work till 10 pm, jealousy.

Couldn’t stand when someone wasn’t direct with what they wanted out.

“We’re having a disagreement of sorts.”

You give him a confused look but give him a smile, waving over the bartender, you click your tongue, “Right, right. ‘F course.” You nod, but you read between the lines.

Same situation, different fucking trick.

“What about you? There’s always someone playing hookie with you.”

Hell, that was your fucking problem.

Loved the chase, the adrenaline until they asked for too much. Feelings, romance, it left a sour taste in your mouth.

Because the man you wanted, the man beside you, didn’t choose you.

You were over though, right? It was a silly little crush.

This was just friendly conversation.

“I’m taking a break for right now,” you decide, your finger goes around the rim of the new cocktail glass the bartender sat down in front of you.

“Been out dancin though, always out fuckin dancin.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Keegan amused, when you two used to sneak into clubs and college parties, you danced like it’d be your last night on earth. Tipsy or not, it was like some form of worship for you. Leave whatever bullshit you had right on the floor. And Keegan, absolutely adored you for it. Could watch you swish your hips all night, drag him on the dance floor for a dance or two. It was fun together. You two against the world.

You inhale, “What about Alex, you heard from him?” You ask, lips dancing.

Alex- or Ajax- was another childhood friend between you two. You weren’t as close to him, but Keegan and Alex were best friends.

“He’s still on my ass about every-fucking-thing, gossipy little shit,” Keegs groans playfully and you giggle.

“Some things never change.”

The night is a breeze after that, maybe one drink more split between the both of you but nothing more. Both of you treading lightly, enjoying each others company despite the obvious rift. Ignoring the small awkward pauses by telling stories of the shit you’ve too have gone through during the time apart.

It feels— right for once.

A time where Keegan doesn’t have to worry about anything, his shoulders relax, and the light in his blue eyes feel like them come back. Just for a little while.

The other problem though, you. Who lingered at the back of his mind. Maybe that was what held him back, he was comparing them to you. And he knows he’s dead wrong for it. But he thought maybe you’d go away, fall in love with another man, get married, have kids— the whole shabang!

It only annoyed him more.

A rift, he doesn’t even remember what he or you said that tipped it off. But you too butt heads like you always did back when you were close. Closer than close, arguing with you brought you two that odd normality. Like two kids at the playground who’d make up soon enough. Just, adults this time.

With festering anger. Jealousy, words left unsaid.

“Don’t go talkin over me-“

“-Like you haven’t been doin the same?-”

“-Because your bitchin-“

“I’m tellin you the truth because no one else will!” You say it like it’s the obvious, you tilt your head, “You waltz around here like you know everything, like you're better than everyone cause you left but you’re still hurting. From your shitty parents, to Carmen, your job that has you exhausted all the fucking time that one other girl and now- what is her name?” you snap a couple times over your head, finding the answer within yourself.

It clicks, “Tracy. Tracy, who’s really given you hell for being away all the time. ‘M sure she thinks you’re cheatin on her. It’s hard. Ain’t it? Got someone like that playin in your fucking face like that, doubting you… I’m just sayin.”

“You’re talkin too fuckin much.” He grumbles, swinging the rest of his drink back.

“Don’t I always?” One side of your lips curve up, taunting. “That hasn’t changed about me. But you, Mr. Run-away, you don’t think I have the same ears you do around here? Lookin for your parents— that little part ‘f you won’t let ‘em go and I don’t know why you keep comin to look for ‘em when it’s no fuckin point.”

It’s too much, always too damn much, he curses you “Watch your fuckin mouth [+].”

You shake your head, push, push, push, until it clicks— hook, line—

“It’s driving you crazy bein in this little shit of a town again, but it’s nothing holding you here anymore. Go live your fucking life Keegan. For once, you’re so worried about other people, focus on your fucking self. Go fix your relationship, be with that woman who you know won’t give you what you really want.”

There it is. The unwanted truth.

Sinker.

Keegan’s whole life he yearned for family, stability, him being the only one in his family to hold it together. That’s why he was so adamant about knowing people, making connections, even if he wasn’t the most social of the bunch. He could get people to remember him so easily.

But people left— his family left without him, heart broken over Carmen just up and leaving him, and then he left you— everything fell apart. Couldn't love the same, care for people the same.

His grip on the empty glass loosens, you wanna dance? He’ll dance. “I’m not the only one runnin after demons—“

You scuff, “-Oh please-“

“—Like I haven’t heard about your mom making you pay her bills, that house that you don’t live in miraculously having your name on it. How she’s asking around for money even when she comes to your place making a fucking ruckus— you’re covering for her.” He informs you, sneering.

If you can lay it allll out, so can he— can’t he?

“You play coy in everyone’s face but I know better, I know you would beg for help if your pride would let you. I know that you’re just as scared to leave as I am, that you stay here cause that’s all you know. Probably sock her in her face if so many people weren’t watching you. It’s tiring you out, you probably need a vacation. Running after people who don’t give a shit is a common trait between you ‘nd me kid, wears us thin. But we’re one and the same, do the same bullshit. That’s never changed.”

If you had a drink, you’d throw it. Right at his skull.

“Pay the tab, shit head.” You snarl, pushing the drink away and grabbing your purse. Walking right through the half empty bar and out the doors.

The cold air hit your face, doing a quick scan of the parking lot for your car. Maybe there’s some stuff you shouldn’t have said, let Keegan figure it out himself. But you were never good at shutting up, just like your fucking mother.

And you couldn’t stand things not going your way. Even worse when people smacked you in the face with the truth. It hurt.

You rolled your eyes, stomping your foot to the pavement in annoyance.

You felt a hand go to your waist and you almost yelped, until you heard a familiar husky whisper in your ear, “Shut up and move.”

You liked the chase, loved getting caught— loved being used.

Well, only by Keegan.

You’d take all his anger, everything he was willing to give you, and make him feel even better. Take him on a much needed vacation. And he’d take you there too.

Even if it was 45 minutes that made the whole car rock back and forth.

You manicured hand, claw at his seats, his tip pressing right into your g-spot. Keegan was thick, so undeniably wide, how much he stretched your sticky walls, you weren’t even sure he’d be able to fit inside after so long.

But he made it fit, eased himself in by rubbing your little clit, smirking, “Such a slut for me Princess, can’t even use that fuckin brain can you?”

You hiccuped, hand pressing at his thigh to try to relieve yourself, but he just gave it to you deeper, kept your hand behind your back.

His fingers glide against the back tattoo, large angel wings, so beautiful, newly retouched—

“When you get these re-done, heh- they’re so pretty.” He hisses as your pussy tightens around him.

“Doooont,” you slur, eyes rolling to the back of your skull, “hmm, ah- don’t ask a-about that right now.”

“I’ll ask what I want,” he rasps, whispering curses as he frantically fucks you, “when I want. Who told you, you were in charge here? Huh?”

And then, there's a harsh thwack that fills the car, from two of Keegan’s large fingers down to your precious cunt, one that makes your sob in pleasure, tears forming on your face.

“A-Again Kee!” you croon, almost at the finish line, you can feel it down in your gut.

The older man snickers, “You should use your manners doll, been so rude to me all night. What happened to that nice girl I used to know.”

A pout forms on your lips, looking back at him with those pretty brown eyes, he almost gives into you right then and there. You whimper, “Please- hnngh- please spank it again Keegan.”

God, he loved you. Loved the shit out of you, and your messy fucking pussy. Could never say no to you even after all this fucking time.

He let your arm go, gripping your hips with one so hand, definitely leaving a bruise and giving your Pearl a niiiice and mean slap making you jolt forward as he jackhammers inside your pink walls.

You wither around him, your tight walls quickly pulsing around Keegan’s girth. “Fuuuck, Keegan oh my god!” You sob. When’s the last time you came so hard? Your entire body shaking, can barely think straight, you have to wipe the drool that’s fell from your mouth.

Keegan pulls you up, still on his dick, letting you rest just for a second with your head on his shoulder. “Feels good not to think so much, don’t it princess? Racking that poor brain of yours been so hard on you, huh?” He coos, wiping the sweat from your forehead.

The car’s hot now, steam filling the windows, you don’t even remember where you are. You pant but nod none the less, unable to talk.

“Don’t worry, Daddy’s gonna fuck you just how you need.” He grunts, slowly bucking his hips up into you.

You find his hands, wrapping them around you as you meet him halfway, swiveling your hips and slamming yourself down on him.

“There you go gorgeous, so fuckin pretty,” he hums in delight, his mouth kissing from shoulder to your neck, to your cheeks to your ear, making you moan.

You move against each other in tandem, slow, but hard, rock steady. Your head falls down as the pleasure gets to you, “Fuck, fuck, fuck annh- feels so good, soo big, fuckin bastard.” maybe you muttered it to Keegan, maybe to God— someone.

“Yeah, you still mad at me? Sure doesn’t look like it, doesn’t feel like it either.” He chuckles, plunging deeper into you, holding you tighter, one hand kneading one of your perfect tits.

“Damn it, shut up!” Pulling him into a sloppy kiss by his black wavy locks. Moans from the both of you hitting the walls of his car, as smacks from both your bodies and lips fill your ears.

It’s so much, too much—

You pull away, trying to get away from his hold, but Keegan grips onto you, slamming you down on his length, the sloshing sound of your sobbing cunt loud enough, you're sure someone outside the car can hear you.

“One more yeah, baby girl? You can give me one more can’t you?”

You shake your head, eyes squeezing shut, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t-“ you keen, more tears falling down your face.

“You can doll, come on baby, it’s okay” and his hand comes down to your clit, rubbing it in fast small circles. You squeal, “Kee!”

But he calms you down, kissing your cheek as he lets the feeling in your build up to the hilt— “That’s it Doll, you got it, let it go.”

You cry as you hit euphoria, letting him thrust into your pussy a few more times till he fills you with his own release, to the brim.

A perfect way to end the night.

Least you got what you wanted.

a/n: I know this actually a lot of plot than smut and it Vice versa, I lied. We all need to lie for plot sometimes. Yes there are plot holes, more to come (if anyone reads this.) yes I threw one daddy in there, you won’t die over it. Lmk what you guys think😚😚

most recent masterlist

[aquarianbeat]

Caleb helps you pierce your nipples, and finally follows through and gives you a bell to wear.

CW: NSFW, Body Modification, Piercing, Needles, Nipple Piercings, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, X Reader, Self-Insert, Mindbreak, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Degradation, Slight Humiliation, Dildo Riding, UNSAFE PIERCING PRACTICES, F!Reader, Dom Caleb, Sub Reader, Dark Caleb, Mean Caleb

WC: 2.1k

18+ Minors, do not interact.

Do not copy or upload anywhere without my permission, and definitely don’t use for your AI.

🍎🍏 🍎🍏 🍎🍏 🍎🍏 🍎🍏

This is my first ever Tumblr post with content I’ve written, and first ever NSFW one shot lol. It’s just pure filth that was written at 4 am, it’s not proofread in any way, but I had a great time with it lol. I want to reiterate that when you get your nipples pierced DO NOT LET ANYONE PUT YOUR FRESH ASS PIERCINGS IN THEIR NASTY MOUTHS. Caleb has terrible piercing practices here lol, do not copy him😭

🍎🍏 🍎🍏 🍎🍏 🍎🍏 🍎🍏

“Take it off.”

You did as Caleb said, pulling your tank top and bra up over your head.

“You’re always such a good listener for me, aren’t you?” Caleb said, smirking as he pushed two fingers into your mouth so far they were nearly in your throat. He pushed until you gagged, then he trailed them down your throat, down over your collarbone and down the side of your breast where he rolled your nipple in between your fingers. “We finally get to put a bell on you today. Are you excited?”

You nodded your head eagerly, and he smirked.

“Then prove it. Keep riding that cock for me, Pipsqueak. Remember, don’t come until I say so, or I’ll have to stop.”

The sound of you riding the dildo echoed in the empty bathroom, the sound of it bouncing off the walls. It turned you on even more, the obscenely wet sounds reverberating around you made you even more desperate to come than you already were.

“Yes, sir.” You kept bouncing on your favorite toy as you nodded your head at him, pleading with him to finally pierce you.

“That’s it, Pipsqueak. Fuck your self on that thick cock for me, baby,” Caleb said, watching with glee as your cheeks flushed and your eyes started to glaze over with need. He laughed softly, pulling your ponytail softly as he turned to the counter with his supplies and pulled on a pair of gloves.

“Caleb,” you whined desperately as the dildo hit something inside you that threatened to make you come before you wanted to. “Hurry.”

He grabbed your chin, pushing his thumb in between your lips and pressing the pad against your tongue so you could taste his glove. “Deeper, Pips, deeper. I expect you to take every single inch. If you have the breath to speak, you have the breath to ride it like you mean it. I want you to be on the edge for me, sweet girl.”

Your stomach tightened threateningly as you did as you were told. You loved it when Colonel Caleb came out to give you orders. He released you and rubbed one of your nipples, and then the other, with a cotton ball soaked in cold disinfectant.

“Fuck,” you gasped, fear and anticipation shocking your system and inflaming how turned on you were as Caleb picked up a pair of forceps and turned slowly to face you. Your legs started to shake as you dropped yourself down, filling your poor little pussy up, doing your best to distract yourself.

Caleb reached down, clicking a button on the dildo that was suctioned to the tile underneath your knees. The little piece that was reaching up and touching your clit came to life with a low hum as it started to vibrate.

You yelped, and tried to push yourself away from the vibrations. You were already so close to coming without permission, this would only break you into pieces. As you moved, however, Caleb reached out grabbed your pony tail with his free hand, simultaneously shaving you back down and moving you off balance so you couldn’t move away. “You’re gonna sit and take it for me, Pipsqueak.”

“Caleb,” you whine.

“Let it get that little cunt even wetter than it was before,” he commanded. “Now, you have to stop riding and hold as still as you can for me like a good girl, yeah? Just press the vibrator against that pretty clit.”

The sound out of your mouth was a broken, haggard whimper, as you did what he commanded and stopped riding, pressing against the vibrator, doing your best to ignore the sharp jolts of pleasure the vibrator was shooting into your pussy. Caleb took the needle from its sterile plastic packaging, and unwrapped the jewelry going into the piercing. You eyed the jewelry, feeling the fire in your veins burning brighter, your pussy somehow even wetter as you slipped even further back onto your heels, taking the thick silicone toy deeper into your slick heat.

It had little apple charms on each end of the bar. It was sparkly, and cute. You were so excited to have them decorating your tits.

With steady hands Caleb pinched the forceps around your nipple. The anticipation of pain and the sudden rush of fear nearly made you lose everything, but with the last shred of self control you had, you held back your orgasm with a whine of distress.

“Eyes up here, baby,”’ he said, “I want to watch your eyes. You’re doing so fucking good for me.”

You looked up into his face, biting into your lip so hard you nearly broke skin as you desperately clawed your way back from the edge, your body trembling with pleasure as the vibrator on your clit continued to thrum.

”Once the needle goes through, you can come.” He rubbed a gentle thumb over your bottom lip, his eyes glowing with excitement as he drank in the sight of your fear and your lust. The expressions were battling for dominance over the soft, fucked out look on your face you had from earlier. “You still want this, Pipsqueak? Still want me to put a bell on you?”

”Yes, Caleb. Please, please,” you sob, rocking forward an inch to get closer to him, pressing the vibrator more tightly against you, desperately needing to come, your pussy was craving the pain, yearning for him to mark you.

The needle pierced through the bud, and the combination of the sharp pain and the pleasure of your release detonated almost violently in your core. Your body shook, and your vision went white as pleasure consumed you. Only the sharp jolt of pain as Caleb inserted the jewelry through made you come back to earth. He twisted the little apple into place and rubbed his thumb across it with a satisfied smirk, before he reached down to turn off the vibrator. The bathroom was silent except for your heavy panting.

“You’re so fucking good, Pipsqueak,” Caleb said, gently wrapping his hand your throat to tip your head up, bending down and kissing you until the shockwaves in your pussy calmed down.

You felt like you were boneless, your ears were ringing slightly as your mind started to float away again. You felt his tongue against yours, and happy bliss filled your eyes with tears. You had never felt so good in your entire life.

Caleb broke the kiss and pulled back a few inches to look at you. “One more baby, can you ride that cock for me again, Pipsqueak?”

A tear slipped out of the corner of your hooded eyes as you nodded up at him. You honestly didn’t know if you were strong enough, if your limbs would even listen to you anymore, but you would try and do anything for him. “Okay.”

You inspected your new piercing before you started to move. The jewelry Caleb had picked out was a straight bar. Titanium. Perfect for healing. It was cute too, it had a ruby apple on each side of the bar completely gorgeous. The only other decoration was dangling down from a delicate chain attached to each apple: a little silver bell.

He had always threatened to put a kitten bell on you, and now he had done it in one of the most intimate ways possible.

Your shaking legs were only capable of small, baby bounces, but Caleb’s eyes grew hot as he watched you struggle to ride the thick toy, the bell on your nipple jingling with each thrust. He flicked it up, making the bell ring louder. “Can you hear that? Besides the noises you make when you come, or that sloppy, wet sound your cunt makes when I fuck you on my fingers, this is the most sexy sound in the world.” He continued to watch you unravel as you started to hit the tip of the cock against your favorite spot, your whimpers and groans getting louder with each stroke. “You’re so fucking beautiful, your tears are so pretty, baby.”

“I need… I need to come. Pierce me, touch me, let… let me come, Caleb. Please.” you beg, pleading with him as you fuck yourself even deeper.

“Alright, sweet thing.” Caleb kissed one of your tears away before he started to prep the next needle, and when he was done he bent down and turned on the vibrator against your clit again. You threw your head back in a groan. Slick started to gush out of you, making your cum drip down over the base of the toy and puddle below you.

“God, you are such a slut,” he laughed, as he reached out and pinched your unpierced nipple. “Hold yourself down. You have to stay still now.”

The sensation was nearly too much for you as you stilled against the vibrator, but you managed to push through the waves of pleasure as your newly pierced nipple ached with the most delicious pain imaginable.

”Remember, you can come right when I push the needle through.”

You gritted your teeth together as your stomach tightened again, all of your limbs trembling uncontrollably with the need to break apart. If you used your safe word now, or if you came without his permission, Caleb wouldn’t pierce your second nipple, and that would be unimaginably cruel.

You had to take it. You would take it.

The cold forceps pinched your second nipple, and you couldn’t help but moan in anticipation.

“Please,” you whimper.

“I love you, Pips.”

It was the only warning he gave as he pushed the second needle through your skin.

The pain was sharp, but so sweet that your orgasm broke through you just as thoroughly as the first time, the ecstasy of it drowning you until there isn’t anything of you remaining.

Caleb watched every single second of you breaking apart for him. You came apart in equal parts pain and pleasure, and he loved every second. You were perfect.

He didn’t turn off the vibrator until your limbs stopped trembling, then he gently lifted you off the dildo, and carried your limp body bridal style to his bed and laid you down in his sheets.

You were barely conscious as he slid his cock into your cunt, seating himself so deep you cold feel his thick cock kissing your cervix.

“I can’t, Caleb. Caleb, I—“ You choked as he playfully bit into your shoulder.

“How man times do I gotta tell you, baby girl, my name is not your safe word. It wont help you now,” he cooed in your ear as he dragged his hips back, his tip dragging against your walls in the most painfully slow way before snapping them forward.

You cried out, your back arching up. You were so overstimulated that your cunt twitched in protest, your clit tingling almost painfully, but when he reached down and swirled his thick fingers over your little nub and fire started to flush through your veins again.

”One more baby, give me one more tonight and then we can sleep,” he said.

“Caleb, that feels so good,” you gasped as he reached up and used his free had to squeeze the base of your left breast tightly.

He hissed out a breath against your ear. “I have never felt you so wet for me before. You feel so fuckin’ good.”

“Caleb,” you whimper, so fucked out that you could barely think as he started to move in and out of your pussy. You could hear the bells dangling from your nippled jingling as he thrust into you over and over again with enough force it rocked your tits back and forth.

“I can’t believe you let me pierce you, can’t believe you let me put a bell on you,” he said. “You’re such a slut, not only are your nipples pierced now, you’re marked like a master marks a dog.”

You groaned, his words doing something to your mind, pushing you deeper into your favorite subspace.

“Now every time you walk you’re gonna be able to hear your tits, gonna be able to hear how I own you,” he said, rubbing his fingers against you harder now, and your stomach started to tighten, your pussy clenching helplessly around his cock, squeezing it as hard as possible.”

”I already… I already know who owns me. You… fuck… you… you do,” you gasp, your eyes rolled back into your head as Caleb hit one of those spots deep within you it made you see stars. “Caleb.”

“Good girl. Now, I need to taste you, Pips,” Caleb moaned, right as he bent his head down and sucked one of your freshly pierced buds into his mouth, twisting the chain and bell around his tongue. His hips started to jerk, and you could feel him start to come deep inside of you. He continued to swirl his middle fingers around your clit, and your lower belly coiled in pleasure, leaving you strung out tight all the way from the top of your head to your toes. The pleasure, combined with the sharp pain of him tugging on your nipple, threw you over the edge of your last orgasm of the night. You turned your head and screamed his name into his soft feather pillows as your whole body shook.

He pulled out of you after you collapsed into a puddle of nothing, rolling over to protect your overstimulated pussy from him

Caleb laughed softly at you before he started cooing beautiful, loving words in your ear as he cleaned you up, pulling you into his chest.

”You’re perfect, Pipsqueak,” he whispered into your ear as you fell away into sleep, “Maybe next time we can pierce your clit.”

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

June 18th

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1. I'm looking for a fic where wwx lied about not being a virgin anymore and jin zixuan asked him who did he have sex with and wwx said lz, but jzx was skeptical and didn't believe him so wwx made a deal that if he somehow proved he and lz are together sleeping w/ each other then jzx will give him money, then wwx go to lz room which is coincidentally the one next to jzx's and ask him to fake having sex with him but ofc lz refuses then wwx starts making fake sexual noises yk and banging the bed headboard on the wall, jzx was startled and shocked with disbelief but later he admit defeat and give wwx the money,

FOUND? caught in the sugar by occultings (microcomets) (E, 13k, WangXian, Modern, Fake/Pretend Relationship, fake FWB, Workplace Retreats, Drinking Games, Humor, some blink-and-miss-it wwx-flavored comphet during the sex scene, LWJ dicking WWX down so hard he sees shrimp colors, as per usual, the hero’s journey to answer the call of being a bottom, Barebacking, First Time)

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2. hii im looking for the fic where lwj uses emojis that have double meanings and wwx thinks that he's doing it without knowing. except lwj DOES know what he's doing and is sending those emoji combos on purpose @f1sh1ng4gl0ry

FOUND? Lan Zhan doesn't know how to use emojis by QueenofThyme (M, 7k, WangXian, emojis, Texting, Epistolary, Innuendo, Eggplant Emoji, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Idiots in Love, Artist WWX, Modern AU)

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3. I’m looking for a fic Modern setting lwj gets a call about a -yuan not being able to stop crying I think it was bc he asked something in mandarin but despite what he wanted being obv the teacher would not let him unless he spoke English or smth like that wwx is a teacher and speaks mandarin and a-yuan gets moved to his class @zerokogane

FOUND? 🔒 A New Term by jiejieaini (E, 21k, WangXian, Modern, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, LWJ is best dad, Bunnies, London, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Adopted WWX, Fluff and Angst, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Reunions, Hand Jobs, Tears, Gay Sex)

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4. hi I'm looking for fan fic i read in oa3, it's about wei ying being possessed by himself in yunmeng, the weiying in the sunshot campaign time and trying to kill wei ying in the body of mo xuanyu. this happens after the canon events in the novel. wei ying even adopted another son besides ayuan, please help meeeee

FOUND? 🔒 Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket (M, 290k, WangXian, Post-Canon Fix-It, Love Letters, Family Feels, ft. the yunmeng bros being bros, and the junior ducklings being precious, a-qing lives, Romantic Comedy, Case Fic, Politics, gratuitious social reform, as expected when wwx is left in charge of a government without supervision, Yunmeng Jiang Sect, Slow Burn, the burn is very fast actually wwx is just clueless, (slaps fic) this bad boy can fit so much worldbuilding in it, Sect Leader WWX, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Happy Ending, Russian Translation Available, [podfic] Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket by daisydiversions)

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5. Hi again, thanks for your hard work. Hope it isn't a bother to ask for a resubmission of my earlier request to see if anyone can recognise the fics. A) So there are two fics that I haven't been able to find. The first one was a case fic of some kind where wx were with a bunch of junior lans. There was a scene where they started making out on a table (i think it was their first kiss, like a post-canon get together) and jiang cheng, who has come to help, walks in on them. Cue yunmeng bros squaking. B) The second was also wangxian post-canon. I can only remember one scene where Jin Ling bursts into Jiang Cheng's room and triggers a ptsd response from the sunshot campaign. JC then scolds JL for startling people who had been in a war. I'm not sure if wx were background or not. Thanks in advance!! @lunaloup

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6. hiya! i’m trying to find a specific fic where jin ling is WWXs biological child because JY and JZ couldn’t have children. thank you in advance! @the-kings-of-henrietta

FOUND? Coming of Age of Jin RuLan by gayatridoes (G, 3k, JYL/JZX, WangXian, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Alternate Universe, Heavy Angst)

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7. Hi! I'm hoping you could help me find a fic that i've been looking for for a few days. I think it was on ao3, and in this fic wwx has an idea to help the lans with the waterborne abyss, but only tels lwj thinking it won't be taken seriously. Only lwj does take it serious and they end up using a yin lure flag (or some variation) to lead the waterborne abyss to some lake where the lans can take care of it without causing to much trouble for the people of Caiyi. I can very clearly remember lwj helping wwx look at maps to figure out in which lake the waterborne abyss could be handled easily and how they could get it there, but I don't remember much else. Thanks!!! @m4rieke

FOUND! SanRen by Kyogre (T, 87k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Different First Meeting, Romantic Fluff, Action & Romance, Eventual Happy Ending)

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8. Hello, i am searching a fic it was in spanish and on wattpad. Story : Jiang cheng owns a coffee shop where he gets kidnapped by wen chao. Lan xichen is the husband of JC and he is a judge. Lan wanji is a lwayer and wei ying is a detective that put most of the bad wens is prison. wen chao was on the run, it was supposed to be jin ling that got kidnapped but instead they took JC where they tortured him. I think when i translated it the title was something like 'jiujiu isn't there' but i can't find @jiangcheng1709

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9. Hey,

I'm not sure if it is one or two fics.

I think it is a time travel fic.

The first scene I remember is that SS dies during the Waterborn abyss scene which LZ (?) regrets because it makes his brother cry (?). At the same time he says to himself that SS need to die but he regrets that he gave his brother this burden or something like this.

The second scene is LZ who organizes a punishment for JC, NHS and other people who broke rules except WY. He met WY earlier in the night and sent him to his room. LZ gave him his robe (?) and in the next morning WY woke up and run to the punishment room only wearing this robe to save JC. He talked with LZ to punish him instead JC but LZ said something like he would never punish WY.

Later LZ fights with his uncle because he never punishes the sects heir and mostly WWX.

I think the fic was a wip.

Thank you in advance!

FOUND? All The Words I Never Got To Say by Lost_Stories (M, 85k, JGY/NHS, WangXian, LXC/NMJ, LWJ & NHS, WIP, Fix-It of Sorts, Not Everyone Dies, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, NHS just can't catch a damn break, Time Travel Fix-It, canonical character deaths ARE still present (but will not include wwx), Golden Core Transfer, Golden Core Reveal, NHS Character Study, Angst with a Happy Ending, I am so sorry lotus pier still falls, NHS and NMJ's moms are in a poly type relationship with their dad I know that's not canon don't @ me, DW JGS will kick the bucket, I just didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being a 'major character', Introspection, Morally grey main character, mild whump, NHS has trauma and this is me making him work through it, rating is for some swearing and violence, the occasional dead body and demonic cultivation, Ruthless NHS, POV NHS, Scheming NHS, NHS-centric, some mild torture it would seem) fits the first part of the request (except the time traveler is NHS not LWJ) but not the second part.

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10. Hello, I'm looking for a fic from modern college settings. Lan wangji joins college same as lan xichen. However lxc, meng yao, su she, wen chao and wei ying take advantage of lwj. Lwj is kind of innocent. I'm not sure if the fic was in English or other language but I'm sure it is ongoing. Not yet completed.. Do u know the name of the fic?? Thanks for your help in advance. No worries if you don't know.

#10 is a fic that is deleted I believe

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11. Hello! was looking for a fic which begins with lwj performing clarity to calm spirits in the jingshi, while he is doing this he comes in contact with spirit wwx (they have not met and do not know each other) who was a rogue cultivator and died young I think? anyway lwj tries to find out why spirit wwx is unable to rest in peace and is still in this world.

I remember this one particular scene where lwj defeats the tortoise of slaughter with the help of spirit wwx, and later on in the fic wwx's spirit dissipates but it has a happy ending cuz he comes back. please and thank you!! @ilikebredandstars

FOUND? asymptotic by chinxe (T, 26k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Pining, for 20+ years as per the course with lwj, Mojo’s post)

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12. Ok, I’ve looked under every description I can think of, and I think it might have gotten deleted. Even so I’d still like to find it. What I remember is Wei Ying and Lan Xhan are both kids again. Wwx decides he’s done with the Cultivation Sects and gets himself adopted by a farmer in Yiling. Lwj doesn’t talk to any of the Lans and sticks around to get his sword and summon the ghost of his mother then dips. He eventually finds Wwx and they get together and stick around Wwx new family. @marmaladeshinigami

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13. Hello I was looking for this time travel fix it fic, where lwj and wwx both travel back into the past in their younger bodies. Lan Qiren leaves the class for a few minutes and comes back to find wei wuxian and lwj kissing passionately. I think it was a WIP. please and thank you :D. @ilikebredandstars

FOUND? trouble with time by cloudpd (T, 5k, WangXian, Time Travel, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, POV Outsider, Humor, POV JC, he’s so fed up with wangxian, rightfully so, wangxian are shameless, kind of crack, JC’s inner dialogue for this whole fic is just: what the fuck, POV LXC, because LXC deserves to be subjected to gross wangxian as well!!, the third chapter is LJY going “WWX rights!!”, and that’s all im going to say about that, horny wangxian time travel: the thrilling conclusion) matches for the description in everything except that it's a completed fic.

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14. Hi! I would like to find fic where LZ breaks up with WWX because of LQR. WWX’s mental health goes much more worse and he has nightmares due to his ex boyfriend XY. Finally he lays in the bath and drinks alcohol and calls LZ and he calls ambulance and then they make up

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15. Ahoy, first time needing help finding a fic, kinda nervous🫦

I'm desperately looking for a Yunmeng bros reconciliation fic that was written from JC's POV. Iirc it was post-(novel?) canon and WWX and LWJ were already married, there were some sect politics and WWX and JC slowly grew closer again because they both care for JL. It had some angst but no smut as far as I know.

Ik this isn't the most detailed description but I thought I had it bookmarked and it isn't there😭  I even tried to go through my entire history but I never cleared that and it's LONG so no luck. Is there maybe anyone who knows what fic I'm talking about? 💔

Thank you guys for your hard work and maintaining this account! Sending love! @jorolle

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16. I have looked all through my bookmarks history and hope this was not deleted! Wei Ying a d Lan Zhan married when they were young. After Lan Zhan was hurt in an accident, Lan Qiren forced a divorce. Years later, Wei Ying (who is a mechanic and owns a garage) sees LZ at a wedding with Mo Xuanyu (think it’s Mianmian’s or Yanli’s wedding). LZ starts showing up at the garage with his fancy car, at the photo shoot for WY’s charity calendar (shirtless). Mo Xuanyu comes by to threaten WY. LZ and WY get back together. Thank you si much for any help! @cschistory

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17. Hi! I was pointed in your direction so it would be amazing if you could help me :D

I read a Wangxian fic on AO3 a few years ago b ur I haven’t been able to find it since.

It was essentially a retelling of events from the novel entirely from LWJ’s POV (3rd person).

Had a lot of pining and angst in it. From what I can remember, these events definitely happened:

The Wen Archery Tournament: where LWJ talks about wanting to see WWX again but then thinks WWX doesn’t remember who he is.

LWJ getting drunk because he thinks that maybe if he loses his inhibitions a bit he can express himself better

The aftermath of the inn scene which is very angsty and then meeting Fairy who taps out that WWX is at Guanyin Temple.

Guanyin Temple

There’s definitely others but it’s been a long time since I read it and this is the most I can remember.

It had an angst with a happy ending vibe if memory serves me correctly. It would be amazing if you can help me track this down I wish I could reread it.

During the interval period of Wei Ying’s death, LWJ is at Carp Tower (now run by JGY) and gets hit on by a male acrobatic performer. He’s almost into it before noting he might have been drugged by something and rejecting the guy. He then worries that someone might have discovered a collection of his stuff that would reveal he’s gay.

Later on in the story after WWX’s resurrection and the reveal that JGY stole from the Lan Secret Library, he mentions the incident to Zewu-jun and asks if he noted anything weird about what he drank at the Carp Tower implying JGY might have drugged Zewu-Jun at the same event.

Zewu-jun says something along the lines of “he wouldn’t do that”.

Thank you! @danmeidiaries

FOUND? 🔒 The Price of Old Wishes by SoManyJacks (E, 67k, WangXian, Minor canon divergence, Angst, POV LWJ, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, semi-verbal!LWJ, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide) I don't remember the events of the fic exactly well enough to confirm if all the events listed in the ask are present, but it might be this one

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18. Hi! For the longest time now, I’ve been looking for a fic where Lan Wangji comes to Loted Pear, I think it’s set afrer the cloud recesses study arc, the were both still quite young. They were sparring, Wei Ying was trying to show Lan Zhan all pf the Lotus Pear and how to have fun there. (I remember one part where Wei Ying and Lan Zahn went swimming in the lake with other boys, and Lan Zhan then felf quite conflicted because of his sexuality.) But that’s all I remeber.:/ I would be also grateful for *any* recommendations about fics where Lan Zhan visited Wei Ying in the Lotus Pier:) I think it’s such a cute concept @fruity-mango

FOUND? Wei Laoshi, Poonslayer by FeelsForBreakfast (E, 6k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, POV LWJ, straight boy WWX, Loss of Virginity, Getting Together, [Podfic] Wei Laoshi, Poonslayer by PandaReads (DrPanda99))

FOUND? Forgetting Envies and Fleeing Questions by marikazz (T, 7k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, Repressed, LWJ, Song: Wangxian, Fluff, Swordfighting, the homoerotic kind, Love Confessions, Confessions, Flirting, Getting Together, Pining, Humor, POV LWJ)

FOUND? sweet chaos by eachandeverydimension (G, 86k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Romance, Light Angst, Falling In Love, Different First Meeting, Qīnghéng-jūn’s A+ Parenting, Night Hunts, Chinese Language, Good Sibling LXC, Good Sibling JYL, POV LWJ, Getting Together, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Chinese Culture, Slow Burn, No Homophobia AU)

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19. Hi! I have a fic finder request, please. It is a modern au where WWX is a vlogger who makes idyllic vlogs about life in the Chinese countryside. LWJ is a famous classical musician who takes a vacation in WWX's village and they grow close. I think fans recognize LWJ in WWX's vlog. At one point a little kid from the village goes missing and they all search to find her. I remember reading this 2-3 years ago, I think it was quite popular back then. Thank you for any leads to what this might be!

FOUND!🔒🧡 【那夏天的我們】 a stroke of fate by puddingcatbeans (G, 59k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fluff, Slice of Life, Falling In Love, Summer, Barakamon AU, renowned musician lwj escapes to tiny village and falls in love with local farmer boy wwx, good times only, YouTuber WWX, Food)

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20. Hi!! I hope you are doing well! I can't seem to find this fic where lan wangji is older amd a teacher at cloud recess when wei wuxian and the Jiang sect come to study. Over the course of time, he kind of realizes the genius that wei wuxian really is and the miss treatment that he is getting at the Jiang sect. It somewhat follows the original Mo dao zu shi script but there is a lot of Jiang cheng Bashing that happens through out the fic. Also there is a part where WY has to drink demon blood to maintain control over his demonic cultivation and he dosent do that and faints. Sorry if it's a little vague but these were the only specifics I could remember. If I remember correctly it was a discontinued fic last I read it.

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[bewitched-hours]

Heya!! My request didn't go through last night bc of a power outage...its oki tho

Anyways could I request a jellyfish!reader x shedletsky fic...so basically reader has a stinger that stuns the killers right and while they are just cuddling with Shed their tail stings him we get scared that he would yell at us be he doesn't and says he's fine! I just need fluff in my life 😞🫰 (maybe you could sprinkle some suggestive bits in there...)

Aww, that sounds cute! Although, jellyfish don't have tails so I hope the tentacles/stingers are an okay replacement? (Unless I completely misunderstood this request-) Jellyfish are just silly little creatures (,,> ᴗ <,,) Did you know they can regrow parts of their bodies?

Reader's pronouns will be She/They!

You were less than amused when your calming float In the deep waters was interrupted by a sharp pain before total darkness took your vision.

Not long after had you opened your eyes again to find yourself in a cabin of strangers, offered a change of clothes and helped you dry up. At the time you were perceived as oddly calm and the survivors would just leave you be to sleep when you weren't stunning killers with your stingers and protecting them. It made you tired at first.

But Shedletsky seemed to have taken an interest in you after a while and began hanging around, talking with you and getting you to come out of your shell a bit.

He was how you went from a calm and quiet jellyfish to a loud and joyful one. He helped you develop a personality when all you had known before was the quiet and undisturbed nirvana of the deep dark ocean.

And for that, you were grateful.

Because he showed you there was more to life than darkness and tranquillity. There was fun, connection and thrill to find.

Although you weren't exactly thrill-seeking, you still enjoyed how Shed made rounds feel less terrifying and always managed to cheer you up when you died.

He also helped you figure out that your favourite food was Shrimp. Though your own tentacles were also a tasty snack, since you were surprisingly immune to your own stings. Luckily they grow back...

But because of this, Shedletsky made a habit out of not only getting himself a bucket of chicken but getting you a bucket of shrimp on the side. You didn't know why but you weren't about to question the man bringing you your favourite snack of all time.

Something about the way your tentacles wrapped around his torso in a hugging motion whenever he handed you your blessed bucket was cute to him. Like a silent sign of gratitude from someone he considers a crush friend.

Soon enough, those little hugs turned into full on cuddling as you'd eat your respective choices together. The other survivors saw it as perfect harmony. You two worked together like two peas in a pot. Two mice in a hole, whatever other saying there was to call you two by.

You barely even realized how fast things were moving when Shed asked you to be his girlfriend and had your cabins joined together. No need for a bigger bed though, you seemed perfectly content with sleeping partially on him and he loved having your body relax under his heartbeat.

It was calming, not too cutesy, what more could you ask for?

Well, apparently you had picked up the habit of stinging Shed during nightmares. It was all on accident of course but he would always be up earlier than you to cover the sting marks since they didn't really hurt. Since you weren't consciously stinging him, it felt more like a quick shock of heat than a stunning shock with the might of an electrical fence galore.

But tonight, one of those nightmares had woken you up... And you saw the marks...

"Oh no! Shed- Are you alright?!" You panicked, worrying that he was upset. How long have you been doing this for? Some of those marks seemed almost faded. How was he not upset??

You would barely even let him speak, your anxious thoughts filling your head as you tried to move and grab a hair tie or something to tie your tentacles up and keep them away from Shedletsky.

But he quickly stopped you and made sure to hold your face gently as he turned you to look at him.

"[Reader], look at me. These don't hurt, I'm fine." He spoke firmly at first to get your attention before his face and tone softened greatly.

"I couldn't care less about these marks. If anything, they remind me that I've got you by my side and that isn't changing." He began to pepper your face in kisses to wipe away your tears. "I'm not letting you hurt yourself over such a little thing."

You could only sigh, melting into his affections and letting your worries wash away as you smiled at him so softly. "Heh... You know how to make me feel like jello in your care..." You chuckled a bit, trying to joke around to ease the tension from before until you suddenly found yourself right underneath him with a playful chuckle escaping his mouth.

"Luckily there's more ways to show my love and make you feel like jello." He almost seemed smug as he saw your blush.

Let's hope the cabin walls are more soundproof than they look...

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[pinkkillerr]

𝜗𝜚˚ fem reader with in love Toji ⋆˚｡

Whenever you and Toji have sex, it’s always the same thing. He swears that he isn’t in love, pushes in, gone.

He talks to the wholeeeeeee time. He has conversations with your moans, pretending like your moans are speaking absolute poems to him.

You’d let out a particularly soft moan and he’d gently hold your hands beside your pretty little head and smile, “yeah?” And if you respond with another moan at a specific thrust, he’d smile even more “uh huh?” “Is that right?” “Mmm… yeah.”

God it wasn’t fair!! :(

You’d be having the fuck of your life and he’s treating you like some baby. Responding to your moans than your actual words. You’d cry out “Toji! S-slow down!” And he would, but his words were always along the lines of “aww.. but I thought you could handle it” “slow down..? You’re lucky I’m in a good mood, princess” “I know, I know, sweetheart.”

He was always good at listening, but not always the best at communicating himself. Not that he couldn’t talk or nothing, but he’d struggle to express how much he loves you.

You know how much he loves you, but to him, what you think about his love for you is as silly as you believing in the tooth fairy at your big age. He loves you so much he’d physically move the pyramids of Giza to the opposite ends of the earth but during sex, it comes out as:

“My pretty baby.. my pretty, beautiful baby.. god so pretty..”

He never says I love you, because it’s something you never have to be reminded of. Not just in sex, but in your every day lives. He always does the little things that many may not think matters, and even to you, it doesn’t matter, but it matters to him.

Do you ask him to organize all the jewelry he buys you? No, not really but he does it anyways!

Did you expect him to buy you that dress you softly gasped at when you saw it on Pinterest? Definitely not, you didn’t even know he seen the dress, but he made a way.

He’s so deeply and utterly in love with you, sex doesn’t even feel like the closest he could be to you. He knew it was the most intimate he could get with you, but he wanted to love you even more. You meant so much more to him than being a pretty girl and a cute body for him to cherish.

As cliche as it is, you were his literal world and he’d do anything to protect it.

You were his pretty little baby, and he’d never let you go. 𝜗𝜚

Quick little Drabble. My hubby called me his pretty little baby and thought I’d write this for fun! (No, this is not cheating because 1. I don’t fantasize about Toji, I fantasize about my man. And 2. He is Toji, though he doesn’t kill for a living and we have no kids…)