#although now I have to find a CHAIR for fuck's sake

[elephantbitterhead]

At long last, I have found a desk that satisifies my seemingly-simple-yet-somehow-actually-impossibly-arcane demands. It's a close cousin to the desk I left behind before moving to Scotland, minus that desk's ~200lb slate top (which is why I rejected the possibility of shipping it here). After 12 years without a desk, I'm looking forward to putting things in drawers & pulling out those little slab shelves.

Its top is also nicely aged/dinged up & I will enjoy running my hands over it -- see below:

It's going to be a tight squeeze to get it into the room where I plan to use it, so let's hope I can channel my crafty-furniture-mover persona (or that the top comes off easily).

[seungfl0wer]

*Lee know Calling You Clingy*

Paring: Lee Know x Reader (GN)

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Arguing, Cursing, A sort of happy ending?

This is part of a series find the others here:

Bangchan, Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin

-🩵

Cutting up some veggies as you watched your boyfriend cook dinner, he was always so handsome like this so in his zone. As you got done cutting you brought it over to him. Standing by his side as he went to grab something you would hand it to him, He moved you would move. You thought to yourself how sweet this moment was however that’s not exactly what he was thinking. He was getting frustrated cause as much as he really loved when you helped the kitchen was too small for you both to be doing stuff.

“Y/n can you please give me a little bit of space” he said his tone sounding annoyed. You looked up at him feeling bad for bothering him so you slumped back into the chair. “Why don’t you set the table?” He asked seeing your reaction. You nod feeling a bit upset as you did so. You both sat down to eat finishing the delicious food fast before plopping yourselves down on the couch to watch a movie.

You wanted to make it up to him for bothering him while he was in his element so you wrapped your arms around him snuggling up to him. He let out a small sigh as you did so, you looked up to the man who was trying to focus on the movie. His face stern looking still with a hint of that annoyance from earlier. “Hey babe is everything alright? You seem on edge today?” You said softly trying to read his face. “It’s fine” he said blankly still keeping his attention on the tv.

“Love please, talk to me I can tell something’s up. Is it work? Did I do something?” You went on rambling before he cut you off “y/n please. Can we just watch the damn movie.” He hissed his voice harsher than it was supposed to be “can’t you at least tell me what’s wrong?” You said not wanting to drop it, although you probably should have. “For fuck sakes y/n!” He said turning off the tv and getting up “you have been- been so clingy lately. You have been up my ass since we came back from the US. Why can’t I just get a few minutes of just peace. First you won’t leave me alone while I’m cooking and now I can’t even watch a damn movie without fucking 50 questions!” His voice echoed across the room.

Your heart was pounding trying all you had not to cry “I’m fucking sorry I haven’t seen my boyfriend in almost a month, god fucking forbid me for wanting to spend time with him!” You hissed back. You stood up quickly walking to your room, you grabbed a bag and packed some clothes as Minho continued behind you. “It’s one thing to fucking miss me y/n but it feels like you’d want to sit on my lap while I take a fucking shit cause you “miss me so much” you act like we didn’t talk at all which again had me no fucking time to myself!”

You put your bag over your shoulder “Fine you want alone time so fucking bad! Then be alone Minho!” You said storming towards the front door. Your mind raced as you could feel the tears pulling at the corners. No. No crying he doesn’t get to see that. “Good! That’s exactly what I fucking wanted, I’m happy you get the fucking message now!” He said still yelling behind you. You bit your lip his words cutting deeper each time he spoke. You turned around quickly feeling the tears coming “fuck you Minho! I’m- I’m fucking done!” You spat almost running out the door you could hear him before you were out “me fucking too!”

You had gone to a friend’s house to stay she held you close rubbing your back trying to console you. Everything hurt, your head was spinning, your eyes red from crying cheeks stained with tears. “Want me to get some of that cake you like so much and we can sit and eat it while watching horror movies” she said smiling “why horror movies?” You said smiling a bit “cause at least dumb men die in it” she laughed making you laugh too. She was always such a good friend knowing exactly what to say and do to make you feel better.

After Minho calmed down a bit he sat back down on the couch. He turned the movie back on but quickly turned it off “damnit, even when they’re not here they ruin it.” He said throwing the remote back down to the table. He laid back on the couch looking up at the ceiling he felt a heaviness in his chest “no I wanted alone time” he said shaking his head “I wanted this..” his words trailed off. “But why’s it feel so bad.” He said with a deep sigh.

He looked at his phone wanting to text you but not daring too. He knew he was out of line but he didn’t want to be the first to admit. Your words ringing in his head though “I’m done.” What did you mean? Were you ending the relationship? The thought of this made a lump in Minhos throat. Surly you weren’t serious right? .. Right??

Almost a week had passed with radio silence on both ends. It wasn’t like either of you didn’t wanna message the other but neither of you wanted to do it first.

You had thought about things a lot, you decided about going home and just staying in the guest room. You knew Minho wasn’t home at the moment and all though your friend had a great idea “just move out while he’s not home, give him the ultimate alone time he wants” you couldn’t afford that right now. And quite frankly why does he get to keep the place and you move?

You walked into your apartment thinking of what exactly to do. Your head spinning a bit from thoughts “what the fuck am I even gonna say?” You said to yourself “are we even together anymore?” You sighed loudly you stood there for a good minute or two before making your way to the bedroom. You scrounged up most of your things moving it into the guest room you felt yourself wanting to cry again “fuck you” you said softly. You locked the door, put on some music and just curled up into a ball. You had fallen asleep quickly the feeling of being in your home making you sleep easier.

Minho had come home late walking through the door to see your shoes on the floor. His face looked confused before he heard music playing “did she come home?” He said to himself making his way to what was your shared bedroom. He looked over it seeing you had taken stuff he felt his heart sink. He saw the small light coming from under the guest rooms door making the thoughts of you moving disappear. He walked to the door trying to open it realizing it was locked he was about to knock before stopping himself.

He signed a bit walking to the living room, he slumped into the couch all sorts of emotions whirling in his head. He slowly fell asleep only to be woken up by the sounds of you coming out of the room. You quietly tried sneaking to the door your belly rumbling. He quickly turned his head to meet your eyes locking. You both were still for a second before he let out a soft “leaving?”

You shook your head no “7/11” you said trying to keep it short. You made your way to the door putting your shoes on “I- I can make you something.” His voice barely a whisper at this point. “No thank you” you said before leaving out the door. This is how it stayed for about a week. Minho tried talking to you and you just giving him one word answers. He came home from work you’d slink back into your room. He’d come into the kitchen, you’d leave just as quickly.

He started doing small things for you like leaving you breakfast in the morning, or buying your favorite drink to keep in the fridge. He usually did these things always being thoughtful in these sweet kind of actions. It made your heart hurt more. One of the days he made you your favorite lunch, he didn’t do it often because it meant going about an hour away to the restaurant to pick it up but he did. He did in the morning before he had to be at work driving there and back before his already long day.

When you saw it in the morning you started to bawl like a baby. Minho had come back home after realizing he left his phone on the counter. You were curled up on the couch listening to some of his solo music crying into a pillow. He stood there not wanting to bother you but wanting nothing more than to hold you and make things right. He started making his way towards you before you heard him your head shot up eyes meeting his. Your body moved fast tackling him almost knocking you both down.

“Min I’m sorry- I’m so sorry” you choked out tears streaming down your face ugly crying “I’m sorry for being clingy I’m sorry for being a bother- I’ll change I’ll give you more space I’m sorry I just can’t- I can’t do this anymore I miss you- everything hurts-“ you said between sobs and wiping the snot that was running down. Minho couldn’t help but cry at your words, he really had broken you. “No- y/n please don’t change, this all was because of me I’m the asshole I’m the one that should be apologizing.” He said his chest heaving.

“Don’t change please I’m sorry for calling you clingy please- I miss you, cling to me. Hold onto me for dear life please I need you..” he voice getting stuck in his throat. You’ve never seen him like this, he always kept his emotions under control but he couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Life has no meaning if I can’t spend it with you, if I can’t have you by my side with that shining smile of yours. The smile that I haven’t seen in how long. I ruined everything. I hurt you I ruined us things won’t ever be the same.”

His voice horse crying even harder than you now “you should hate me, you should want me to jump off a bridge. I don’t know- I don’t understand why you’re apologizing.” He was rambling on. You felt your heart just braking again, he was so defeated and part of you wanted nothing more than to tell him this is exactly what he wanted. And you’d be right, but you just wanted him back, wanted things back to how they were.

You pulled Minho down to the couch both of you sobbing trying to calm yourselves. You both cried for almost a full half hour before you spoke “Things.. things will be different either way.. you.. we gotta build that trust back up” you said softly clearing your throat. “Let’s start off slow ok?” You said lifting his head to make eye contact with you.

“Well start small and work on things hmm?” You said repeating yourself. He nodded “can.. can you come back to our room?” He said whipping his nose “eventually, I will let’s start off with just trying to talk through some things ok?” You said kissing his cheek. “I love you Minho but what you said hurt and will still probably hurt in the future. But I really do love you and would rather work on things and hopefully fix it than just to through it away so easily.” You said pulling him into a hug.

“Anything, I’ll do anything to show you how sorry I am.” He said his words muffled by your shoulder. You nod sitting there in silence both of you trying to gather your thoughts and catch your breath.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

[m-musings]

Crawl Out Through the Fallout with Me: Cooper "The Ghoul" Howard X Fem! Reader

A/N: never played an official fallout game in my life but i still love this man so it's time to bullshit some stuff, let's gooooooo

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: After a fight with raiders, a argument between lovers ensues when one of them gets hurt.

Warnings: typical fallout vibes, mentions of fighting, blood and wounds, pre-established relationship, Cooper being Cooper but also being a bit ooc, this is cheesy as hell and def not canon compliant lmao

"Damnit, (Y/n), just what the hell were you thinkin'?!"

An upset voice rang out into the evening air of the Wasteland as a pair of figures rested up inside the crumbling walls of an abandoned building.

Lit by the fading light of the sun, (Y/n) hissed in pain as her irradiated companion tried to sew a sizable gunshot wound on her arm shut.

As he passed the needle back and forth through the gash, the girl rolled her eyes with an exasperated groan as a few rivulets of blood rolled down her arm.

"Gimme a break, Coop! Did you wanna be the one to be shot?! I don't- ow!- think so!"

During a journey to find their next cash-out, the partners were ambushed by a large group of raiders & fiends. After managing to get rid of most of them, one had managed to sneak up and send a bullet flying straight for Cooper.

Noticing the weapon before Cooper could even turn to see the shooter, (Y/n) dashed over and shoved the ghoul out of the path of the shot, causing her arm to be hit instead.

Now- a few hours after killing the remaining enemies- they took shelter in a decrepit shack in order to patch themselves up in peace and rest for the night.

"I'd still be better off than you are right now. I mean, for fucks sake, darlin', I'm a ghoul. I've been through worse than just being shot at."

"Well then, that's the last time I try to be helpful. Next time, I'll sit back and relax while you get absolutely slaughtered by raiders, how about that?!"

"Go right on ahead, see if I care! Now, hold still. Can't close this cut if you keep on squirmin' around." Cooper huffed as he gave the suture one final tug before snipping the end off with a pocket knife and tying it into a knot.

After he was finished, (Y/n) rolled the pain out of her bicep before reaching into her bag to grab a somewhat clean cloth to wipe up any remaining blood.

With a sputter of her lips, she got up from her spot next to Cooper to sit upon the old mattress in the other corner of the room in order to apply a stimpak to herself. It wouldn't be enough to heal the wound completely but it would be enough for her to be able to use her arm properly.

Satisfied with the sight of her flesh knitting back together, Cooper finally relaxed in his chair as he crossed one leg over the other.

"Now don't go doin' anything that stupid again, y' hear me? Don't wanna have to use any more stims than we have to."

"I just... don't understand why you're so worked up about this. Something like this was bound to happen eventually, it's literally a warzone out here. A scar or two isn't unusual." (Y/n) griped as she fell back onto the bed while crossing her arms.

"Yeah, for someone like me it isn't. But it shouldn't ever happen someone like you. You shouldn't have to get hurt like that..." Grumbled Cooper as he leaned back against the wall.

"I'm not made of glass, Coop, I can handle a few hits."

"Don't care. You're way too valuable for me to lose."

(Y/n)'s glare softened at that, realizing the true intention behind the cowboy's scolding was worry. As Cooper sets up a small lantern on the floor to combat the growing darkness, (Y/n) watches the man with a fondness gleaming in her eyes.

"Is that what this is all about? You didn't wanna see me get hurt?" Whispers the girl as she turns onto her side.

Although the action is rather subtle, the ghoul's body visibly tenses up as he fixes his gaze away from the woman across from him.

"I never said that."

"It's clear that you thought it, though." (Y/n) chuckled as she softly grinned at the cowboy.

Heaving out an irritated sigh, Cooper hunches over to look at her as he readjusts his hat.

"What do ya wanna hear from me, sweetheart? That I care about you? That I love ya? Well, if you don't know that by now, then you might be much dumber than I thought you were."

"Hey, I resent that! You'd be lost with me and you know it!"

"Sure I would. Just like how you'd do great out there if you were all alone."

(Y/n) shakes her head with a scoff before she gets up from the mattress to walk over plop herself onto Cooper's lap after he sits back down on the beat-up dinner chair.

As she shuffles into place, Cooper places his hand on the small of her back to ensure she doesn't topple over. He silently glances at her face, analyzing her now troubled expression as she fiddles with the lapel on his duster.

Mouth opening and closing as she tries to find the words to say, she presses her lips together before finally speaking her thoughts.

"Y'know, I worry about you too... I'm always so worried that there's gonna be a day where that one gunner you miss is gonna be the one that gets you." (Y/n) admits sadly as she rests her head on Cooper's shoulder.

Cooper's eyes widen slightly and peer down at her as he begins to rub a hand up and down her arm in an attempt to comfort her.

"Hey now, look at me. That'll never happen. Not on my watch."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I got too much to fight for. I already lost one family to this nonsense and I'll be damned if you get taken away from me too. I'll fight tooth and nail before I let anything touch me or you again, understand?"

"But why? What's so special about me?"

"If I allow you to get hurt anymore, I will never be able to live with myself again. I love you, so...so much, darlin'." Cooper states with a resolute nod.

(Y/n) eyes water and crinkle with a gentle smile before she leans up to place a couple light kisses upon his charred lips, which he returns immediately upon receiving.

"I love you too, Cooper..." Mutters (Y/n) as she closes her arm around his shoulders.

With a laugh rumbling in his chest, Cooper wraps both of his hands around her waist as he holds her as close as he can.

"Your sweetness is what's gonna be the death of me one of these days, doll... Not some dumbass bullet." Cooper jokes quietly, placing a kiss atop her hair & resting his head on hers as he rocks back and forth to lull her to sleep.

Listening to the calming sound of her breathing as she slumbers, Cooper thinks about how lucky a man like him is to have found a love like (Y/n) in such a desolate situation.

[nymphie66]

God Bless America pt 2

Part One

Part Three

Author's notes: due to the slightest positive reaction I'm back on my bullshit again, you're welcome??

Soldier boy x f!Supe reader

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, mentions of sex, minors dni - for your own sake, pregnant women get horny too sometimes, dark fic, ben trying to assert dominance - too bad he's a bit of a simp for reader, mentions of a wedding, haven't ramped up to full smut yet but there's always time for that ;)

Find part one here xoxoxo

"Going to the chapel and we're gonna get married.." Ben sang quietly between sips of his beer - he had recently learned that smoking, was not in fact good for your health, let alone the baby's. He carried on cooking, ignoring your struggle against your restraints. The power-subduing cuffs still gracing your wrists, the gag pulled tight against your mouth. You were tied to the kitchen chair, a plate of chicken, potatoes and veg in front of you - whether you wanted it or not, you were going to eat it. It was good for you and the baby after all. Ben sat opposite you with his own plate of bacon, sausage and egg - an American meal for an American man. He looked at you with such content, such joy, he had you, right where he wanted you, all you had to do was comply. "So, baby, you gonna behave or what?"

You stilled, and nodded your head, you didn't need to be honest just no longer gagged and bound. Ben smiled and walked over, removing the gag and untying the rope that bound your arms to the chair. Although still cuffed you could now move your hands to pick up a knife and fork and eat - if you wanted to.

You quickly swallowed the excess saliva that had formed because of the gag and tried not to glare at him. Instead, you just bowed your head looking down at the plate of food. It was bland, the chicken unseasoned and the potatoes looked pale and meek, the vegetables practically soggy over how overcooked they were. Ben never was a good cook.

"Eat up, my son has to get his protein somehow." Ben told you as he took his seat opposite you.

"What about your daughter?" You posed, slowly taking a fork and pushing the mushy carrot around your plate in masked disgust. You knew of Ben's less-than-modern views, but you weren't afraid of them. In fact, you revelled in proving him wrong, in putting him in his place, it often led to more than favourable situations, situations that got you in the predicament that you were in right now.

"She'll need her protein too, to keep up with her old man of course," Ben responded with a smile, and you were at least somewhat comforted by the fact he didn't just ridicule the thought of having a daughter. "Though if she's anything like her mother, she'll be enough to keep me on my toes."

You couldn't help but laugh, an empty one, but a laugh nonetheless. It seemed to encourage him, that you were happy right now, happy to make conversation with him. When in reality you were just waiting, waiting for an opportunity to break free of the cuffs and give him hell.

"You're going to look so pretty in a wedding dress. Fucking divine." Ben commented before taking another sip of his beer, his eyes hungrily darting across your form. You averted your eyes, your heart beating faster under his watch. You were well aware that without your powers, Ben could very much just take what he wanted, and what he wanted right now was evident.

"You are going to have to practice your vows y'know, practice being committed to me till death do us part. No more hotel flings, honey." You told him sourly, and you could see him recoil. You took satisfaction in that and happily stabbed a piece of chicken before putting it in your mouth and chewed laboriously, it wasn't just the vegetables he overcooked.

"Hey, I told you I'm sorry for that, okay? It's never going to happen again, this, this changes things." Ben tried to assure you, pointing his fork at you accusingly, as if it was your fault for taking issue for such a matter.

"Oh so our baby is enough, but I wasn't? I get it Ben." You retorted, finally being able to swallow the driest piece of chicken you have ever had in your life. Ben slammed his hand down onto the table and you would have flinched, if you weren't so used to his dramatics.

"What is it going to take for you to believe me? Huh? I'm marrying you for god's sake-"

"-not by choice, can I add. Don't pretend that your decision to marry me is nothing but you trying to absolve yourself of your guilt or Vought's efforts in damage control." You practically spat, throwing your fork down, for the baby or not, you couldn't put yourself through another mouthful of that godforsaken chicken.

Ben violently stood up from the table and leaned across to you, taking issue with the smile that blossomed across your lips from his agitation. He grabbed your face with his hand and he forced you to look at him. "I am marrying you because I love you. And you love me. And my baby will be loved."

You took particular exception with his declaration that the baby was his, considering you were the one throwing up every morning, and it was messing with your hormones. You used your bound hands to lunge at his throat, and he quickly forced them back down with a brutish strength. To his detriment of course, as from the force of his actions, the cuffs broke against the table. No longer intact and no longer efficient in subduing your powers.

Ben seemed to realise his mistake and quickly retreated backwards, his hands flown up in a surrendering motion. You gasped as your powers returned to you, coursing through you in a form of ecstasy that rivalled anything else. Your eyes glowed in a surge of pure power and you turned to Ben with nothing less than an evil smile. Your powers matched his on a good day, but with this sudden resurgence and hormonal rage, he was putty in your hands - and he knew it.

"Ben, honey, how much did you say you loved me again?" You drawled, running a hand through your hair as you stalked towards him. All caution thrown to the wind, you were on an unparalleled high from days of withdrawal from your powers. Ben stalled and steadied himself against the kitchen counter. "And our baby of course."

"Tonnes, doll, tonnes. Only one for me." Ben quickly tried to assure you, he knew that considering his recent actions, woman or not, you were going to beat his ass, but you just laughed. Usually, he would mock those pussy-ass men who cowered in front of their woman, their bitch. But with the look in your eye, it was just pure survival at this point.

"Those are just words, Ben! Words!" You shouted at him, a hand remaining possessively on your stomach as you continued to walk towards him. "I need more than words Ben, we need more than words. Especially if we're going to get married."

Ben seemed to relax slightly at your concession of a wedding, but he did not at all fall for the bait of a false sense of security. "What do you want?"

"I want them dead. All of them." You responded starkly, your body close to his. Blame the hormones, blame the power rush, but you knew what you wanted. Your mouth then hovered over his ear. "Every bitch that you've bedded, every fling that's screamed your name, I want their head on a goddamn stick, their hearts in a fucking chocolate box. Call it an engagement present."

Ben swallowed thickly and nodded his head, it would be a long list but he was willing to do it, if it meant getting you back, if it meant getting the family he always wanted. You pulled back and looked deeply into his eyes, your head tilting in morbid contentment. Your eyes flickered down to his lips, and you pressed a harsh kiss against his lips. Your arms looping around his neck, your hand tangling in his hair.

Ben seemingly determined to regain some sort of control over the situation, swiped his tongue over your bottom lip before biting it when you didn't grant him access to your mouth. You gasped and allowed it, tugging on his hair violently in acknowledgement of his action. The two of you then engaged in a battle of dominance, that resulted in you getting put on the kitchen counter, thighs spread apart as you felt his hardening cock press against your core. But if Ben thought that he was getting his way, he was wrong.

With a determined shove to his chest, Ben stumbled backwards and looked at you with betrayed eyes. You wiped his saliva from your lip with your thumb and hopped off the counter. Striding towards him before putting a hand on his shoulder and the other grabbing his jaw.

"Sort out the affairs, and until then be grateful that I'm even touching you right now." With that, you released your grip, slapped his cheek lightly and walked off.

"Fucking woman." Ben huffed flipping the table in a fit of anger as he followed your leaving form. The food spilling across the room. You were right, you were always right, and it pissed him off. But that's why he loved you, he supposed, you never gave in to his bullshit beliefs and challenged him at every turn. Which is exactly why he wanted to bend you over, and the fuck the life out of you until all you could say was his name. But that wasn't going to happen until he sorted out those women. Seems like he had some work to get to.

[fayes-fics]

A Close Shave

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Benedict’s wife tries to help him get clean shaven…

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI due to brief mention of vaginal sex, flirting, teasing, shaving.

Word Count: 0.8k omg actually a Drabble holy shit, shame it’s not any of the Drabbles I’m supposed to be writing

Authors Note: Unbetaed. This is not what I’m supposed to be writing at all. Just a silly tiny piece, based on this anon fic request from 4 months ago. I hope you enjoy Nonny, although at this point you probably don’t even remember sending the ask lol <3

“Stop that”, you admonish playfully as his hands run heavily down your sides and grasp your hips, pulling you onto the growing bulge in his trousers.

“Then don’t sit on me in such an appealing way, my love,” he smiles crookedly, a clump of shaving cream sliding down his neck at the movement.

“Benedict, are you really trying to distract a woman holding a cutthroat razor?” you raise an eyebrow waving your hand slightly to show the weapon you wield.

“Your offer to shave me was not meant to include you straddling me like this,” he answers drolly.

“How else am I supposed to do it?” you frown, looking at the chair he is reclined in and your surroundings.

“Stand behind my head?” he chuckles as if the answer is obvious.

“But then your face would be upside down, and I wouldn't be able to see under your chin; that’s a stupid idea,” you sniff dismissively.

“Well, I’m quite sure a barber would not be allowed to practice if they tried this technique,” he jests gently, his hands wrapping around your back, running fingers across your spine.

“What a shame for them. It’s really a rather nice seat,” you smirk and lightly gyrate your hips, pressing down on his rapidly hardening cock.

“You are just doing this for sport, aren’t you?” He shakes his head slightly in disapproval but doesn’t exactly look upset about it.

“Maybe,” you singsong, “but hold still, darling. You want to look nice for the ball later, do you not?”

“I want to fuck you more,” he says casually, but with a tone he knows flusters you every time.

“Benedict Bridgerton!!” You exclaim in mock outrage. Then lean down and whisper in his ear, “you had better. I’m not wearing any underwear today.”

His groan is lewd, and his hands flex on your body. “For god's sake, remove this shaving cream at once. We need to go to bed right now,” he asserts, pushing his pelvis up against you so much your feet leave the ground.

“Oh, I’m sorry, husband. I will only have sex with freshly shaven men today….” you tease, running a hand up the sheet covering his chest. “So lay still, and if you let me get this done, there will be time before we have to get ready.”

He is suddenly quiet and compliant.

You take a calming breath, then start to shave near his left ear. Little gentle motions as you hear his stubble rasp under the blade, wiping the cream onto the damp rag to your side. You make steady progress and just listen to the sound of his breathing, humming gently to yourself to maintain focus. But after a while, you just can’t resist a little flirtation, a slight tease.

“You are a very handsome man, husband,” you sigh as you watch more of his face being revealed.

“Don’t”, he warns, muffled, trying not to move his lips or face too much as you pass the sharp instrument over the round of his chin.

“What? I just speak the truth,” you shrug, lowering your face right over his. “Can I not tell my husband how attractive I find him? How much he arouses me?” You are goading him now.

His breath is a harsh exhale of hot air across your lips, and there is a pained noise from the very back of his throat. “Stop teasing me,” he grouses, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh, husband, that’s not a tease,” you chuckle. “A tease would be telling you I sat in the window and touched myself watching you fence with your brothers earlier. So very commanding with your epee.”

He growls and roughly pushes away the hand that holds the razor, and in surprise, you lose your hold on it, and it clatters to the floor loudly. He grips your wrist, breathing heavily, staring at you, lips parted slightly. “You did what?”

“You heard me,” you reply, feeling a little triumphant.

He roughly tugs your dress upwards around your thighs, grabs your hips, and you squeak as he stands up in one swift, fluid motion, wrapping your legs around him. He commandingly strides out of the bathroom and towards your bed. You feel his chest heaving against yours, his cock branding hot through his trousers at your inner thigh.

He throws you down on the bed, his face still half-covered in shaving cream. Crawling over your body.

“I believe I said I would only fuck a freshly shaven husband,” you point out, but your panting reveals the lie behind the words.

He gives up fighting the layers of your dress and just grabs the material and rips it all the way to your hip with a heated snarl.

“Sorry darling, half-shaved will have to do. You can’t tell me you touched yourself and not expect this,” his tone low and dangerous. You wind your arms tight around his shoulders, hands clutching the back of his neck as he unbuttons his trousers roughly and spears into you hard, hot, and so very invasive.

“Fuckkkk,” you call out with a gusty exhale, throwing your head back and closing your eyes. God, you will never tire of that feeling.

An hour later, when Eloise asks why you have whipped cream on your neck, you realise you missed a cleanup spot. Benedict’s smirk is priceless.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld

[violettduchess]

Yay! I'm excited for this idea of yours!! Could I ask for Silvio + Vampire/Detective (either works!) + Fluff? I felt like Pirate was too obvious 😂😌

A/N: We talked about this and the request changed a wee bit. So here is your Silvio, a vampire MC and something spicy! I hope you enjoy it my sweet @xbalayage 💜

Silvio x female vampire Reader

WC: 2.7 k

It is a night of gleaming silver stars and a sharp sliver of moon. The ancient manor, hidden within the protective shadows of the forest, stands regal, with its seven gables and heavy velvet curtains. Inside, its occupants yawn, rising to greet the darkness, readying themselves for an evening of meetings, treaties and hopefully, revelry. 

You’re in the banquet room, watching the others eat merely for the pleasure of it. None of them actually needs food. Mortal cuisine is appealing every now and then but it’s been so long since you were human, you hardly ever feel the need to indulge in such nostalgia. 

Although…..maybe indulging would be better than….this. Lifting the crystal goblet to your lips, you tell yourself it won’t be that bad. Just give it a chance. This time the blood substitute given to all the vampires attending the gathering could actually taste good. You tilt it upwards and the cool, thickly-clotted, crimson liquid creeps down the glass in fits and stops, crossing the line of your red lips and coating your tongue.

Your body heaves and your throat closes in a gag. A full body shudder runs through your limbs from the top of your head to the tips of your toes in their black boots.

Ugh, enough of this.

The goblet is set down in one violent motion, clanging as it hits the polished onyx of the banquet table. Ignoring the curious gazes of other clan members, you push your chair away and flounce from the extravagant dining room in a flash of dark satin and black leather.

“Still revolting,” you mutter to yourself as you storm through the manor, down hallways lined with oversized, dour portraits of vampire nobility, lush carpeting absorbing the fall of your heels. In a cloud of indignation you fume all the way back to your guest suite where you throw open the ornate wooden door……

…..to find Silvio lounging on your bed, sipping a glass of the vile liquid you just rejected while thumbing through your black, leather-bound notebook.

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

He glances up, not one ounce of shame on his extraordinarily handsome face. 

“You told me I should read your notes on all the other clan members. So I’m readin’ ‘em.”

“Oh for fucks sake, I didn’t mean break into my room and take over my bed.” 

You’ve known Silvio Ricci for so long. A century ago, you worked together to broker a trade deal/ peace agreement between the Benitoite vampire clans and those of your native Rhodolite. Its massive success ensured that you have been working together ever since. 

He sits up, stretching out his long body, his impossibly blue eyes still scanning your notebook.

“You got the better room. And you keep annoyin’ me about learnin’ more about these Jadean vamp clans so-” He stops talking when he notices you lifting your velvet travel cloak from the armchair it had been draped over.

“What do you think you’re doin’? “

The dark cloak falls over your shoulders, settling with a soft, satisfying whoosh around you. Turning, you view your reflection in the mirrored front of the wardrobe, smoothing down the front of your elegant, sable blouse.

“I’m going out for a real drink.” A pat to your hair and then you spin on your heel, already feeling that prickling thrill that rushes through you at the beginning of any hunt.

But when you face the door to the bedroom, Silvio is there, blocking your exit. He must have shadow-jumped, moving in seconds from one place to another, using the shadows of the bedroom as conduits. Your notebook is facedown on the brocade carpet, abandoned.

“You’re not goin’ out there.” 

Despite the height of your boots, you’re still forced to tip your head up in order to meet his gaze. You forget how tall he is sometimes. His moonlight hair falls forward, the tips brushing the tops of his slanted cheekbones, a celestial curtain behind which his ocean eyes burn bright.

Your brow arches in question as you force yourself to look into all that endless blue. 

“The hell I’m not. Silvio. Move.”

“No fuckin’ way.” His jaw tightens, the words spit out through clenched teeth.

No, don’t throttle him yet. You draw a patient breath. “Why not?”

He rolls his eyes with a huff that tells you how very idiotic he finds that question and your fingers curl inwards, red nails pressing into the palms of your hands. Maybe time to throttle him?

“You know the woods outside this place are crawlin’ with Slayers, just lookin’ for a prize.”

A soft hiss escapes you. Fucking Vampire Slayers. They know the clans meet once a year and somehow they always find out exactly where that is. It makes arrivals and departures especially challenging and not every vampire survives it.

But you are not every vampire.

You fasten your cloak with one hand, the large rose-shaped ruby of your signet ring twinkling in the wan candlelight. “I’m a big girl, Silvio. I can handle myself.”

He growls as he shakes his head. “Stop being so fuckin’ stupid. Just drink the substitute for a few days and feed once we’re outta here.”

What is going on? Why does it even matter to him whether or not you take the risk of going out into the night?

"Silvio…..what the fuck? So I want to find some real blood. So it may be a bit dangerous. Who cares?!" Your voice is sharp with frustration, bright with an annoyance ready to ignite into anger.

"I do!! I fucking care!"

Silvio's words are torn from his throat by raw emotion, swift and fierce. Something in his eyes flashes, the piercing shine of a lighthouse beacon skimming the unknown darkness of the sea. His cheeks are uncharacteristically flushed, as if he’s embarrassed himself with his own outburst. 

You’re stunned into silence. You can hardly breathe. All you feel right now is the atomic fallout of a heart suddenly blown to pieces by the most unexpected, shocking wave of desire. The world as you know it, have known it for ages, tilts, breaks into a million tiny pieces as you move towards him. Your hand slides over the rich silk of his shirt where you feel his heartbeat thunder against your palm. This is Silvio Ricci. He’s the most aggravating man you have ever known. Arrogant. Commanding. Excessive.

Your hand slides up, gripping the nape of his neck, your gaze never leaving his.

So many hours of correspondence. So many days over so many decades in each other’s company. And while you always had to admit that he was attractive, never had you felt the need to know what his mouth feels like under yours, to find out what sounds he makes when he surrenders to you, to hear the rasp of exhausted desire in his voice as it stutters your name.

And yet…..here, on a night when you expected to be battling enemies for a drink of fresh blood, here you are, your blood practically singing in your veins as you stare into his eyes, now dark as the sea in winter.

“Silvio…..” His name slips from your lips, unbidden, a whisper rounded by yearning.

It is oil to the smoldering heat in his veins. His strong hands reach for you, pull you against him as he dips his head to capture your mouth with his. You gasp at the feel of the strong lines of his body, how well they fit against yours. And you gasp at the feel of his lips, his tongue. Hesitation dies, burned to ash by lust. His fingers press into you, greedy, almost needy. His mouth is demanding, hardly giving you a moment to adjust before he moves, head tilting from one side to another, tongue demanding access over and over. He kisses you as if he is drowning man and you are oxygen, as if you are the lifeblood essential to all vampires. You feel the sharp scrape of his teeth against your lips, the way his skin grows warmer under the hand that still grips his neck.

With a throaty growl, you jerk out of his arms, stepping back. He hisses, taking a step toward you. He can’t drink in the sight of you fast enough. Your electric gaze, your lips, red and kiss-swollen, the graceful movement of your hand as you unhook your cloak in a single motion. It falls to the carpet soundlessly.

And then, with vampiric speed, you are back in his arms and he’s lifting you, carrying you to the bed he had been lazily lounging on not that long ago. He lays you down on your back, one hand reaching down to brush away several locks of hair that have fallen across your neck and shoulders. His gaze follows his own fingers as they brush over your skin as if entranced by the sight, as if he can’t believe that he’s actually touching you. When you reach up and take his hand, he blinks, his cheeks flushing as if he’s been caught doing something too private, too intimate. He lowers his body, burying his heated face in the curve where neck meets your shoulder. Your fingers slide through his moon-spun hair and the aesthetic of your sharp, crimson nails dragging through all that silver pleases you deeply. 

“I knew it,” he murmurs, his nimble fingers somehow already nearly finished undoing the front lacing of your blouse. “I knew you wanted me.” His tongue traces each new expanse of skin as it is revealed. But the blouse only opens so far. He curses the innocent piece of clothing, impatiently grabbing the hem and pulls it over your head.

“You are such an idiot,” you gasp, fingers curling inward of their own accord as he leaves a string of heated kisses down your abdomen, his eager fingers already skimming over the waistband of your leather pants. 

He lifts his head, pushing himself up with one hand, his eyes as bright as twin stars. His fingers pause and it is torture. 

“There’s no shame in it, ya know. Lots of people want me. You probably wanted me for centuries, huh.”

Oh this jerk, this ridiculous, infuriating, beautiful vampire jerk.

You tilt your head, your hands roaming over the luxurious material of his sleeves. A corner of your mind pulsing with want wonders if he would mind you tearing it to shreds. Ah but he needs to be taught a lesson for such arrogant talk. Using your supernatural strength and speed, you roll, easily flipping him onto his back, pinning him down with one hand even as you straddle him invitingly.

“You’re the one who wouldn’t let me leave. Who told me….what was it? How much you care. And then started kissing me like the world is ending.” You run your thumb over his lips, slowly enough to feel the way they tremble.

His breath hitches in his throat and you watch, fascinated and oddly turned on by how red his cheeks suddenly glow. Who knew he blushed so easily? He looks away, brow scrunched in irritation even as his hands slide over the curve of your hips, over the leather that is molded to your form, holding you firmly in place against him.

“The fuck you talkin’ about…,” he mutters before reaching up for you, pulling you back down towards him. “Shuddup and let's get back to how much you want me.” 

You pause, your lips scant centimeters away from his. “I believe the evidence of how much you want me is much…..clearer.” You roll your hips against his, demonstratively and there is no denying the hard truth of your words.

He groans, shaking his head and the world tilts again as he flips your positions, covering you with the lean, muscular length of his body. The bed groans at all this gymnastics.

Your pants join your discarded blouse and travel cloak in a forlorn heap on the floor. How he managed that between kisses that leave you dizzy and aching and fighting for air is a mystery for the ages.

You’ve managed to wrangle him out of most of his clothing, without tearing anything, when suddenly you grow still, your eyes closing as a wave of true, overwhelming dizziness crashes over you. Silvio feels the way your body stiffens and freezes, his hand growing still on the inside of your thigh. He raises his disheveled head from the line of red marks he was leaving along your lower stomach.

“You ok?” 

You blink, trying to clear the sloshing in your head.

“I….I think I’m just hungry.” You try to smile, to lighten the violent shift in mood. “I was trying to go get something to eat when you so….expertly distracted me.”

He scrambles into a sitting position and then carefully, almost tenderly, reaches down to help you sit up as well, propping you up against the pillows.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t had a drink since we got here?” The paleness of your face, the way you’re holding yourself is answer enough. “The fuck?? We’ve been here a week! You ain’t really that stupid, are ya?”

You wince at his justified admonishment and he sighs heavily. He reaches down, grabbing a handful of his own billowy white shirt from off the floor and pulls it over your head, covering the body he had so eagerly uncovered just moments ago. The sight of you in his shirt has him swallowing, a tangle of complicated emotions tumbling through him.

Standing, he crosses the room in nothing but his silken braies, heading for the table next to the dresser and even through your light-headedness you can’t help but admire the lean cut of his body. He reaches for the crystal decanter, the one filled every evening for all attendees with fresh blood substitute, the one you have ignored for days despite how often they refresh it. The liquid flows from the lip of the decanter into the intricate glass that has lived untouched on that same table and with a determined set to his jaw, he strolls back to you, lowering himself to the edge of the bed. He shoves the glass in your direction, his expression a scowl draped in the embarrassment of caring.

“I know you can’t stand this shit but you ain’t gonna be able to handle all the things I’m wanna do to you unless you got some strength in ya. So stop actin’ like a stubborn jackass and-”

You yank the glass from his hand and, your gaze never leaving his, knock down the contents in one long swallow. You almost manage to hide your revulsion. 

Silvio takes the glass from you, his fingers brushing yours, softly, like small flames licking at your skin. He grins slowly and any lingering feeling of disgust is incinerated by the sudden desire that flares through your body.

“Ya want me that bad, huh?”

The blood substitute has renewed you, has sparks exploding like tiny supernovas through the pathways of your veins. You feel reborn, a phoenix bursting from the ashes in a fiery explosion of wings and want. You move faster than a human eye could see, too fast for his own enhanced vision. One moment he’s grinning at you, licking his lips like a cat that’s caught the canary and the next he’s pinned beneath you again, looking up into a face bright with eagerness, eyes glowing with satisfaction.

And when your fangs slowly protract, it’s all he can do to stop himself from taking you then and there.

“The lady is still hungry,” he rasps as your hands slide over his chest, your strong fingers curling around the hard muscles of his shoulders, sharp red nails biting pleasurably into his skin. 

You lower yourself down, tracing the shape of his ear with your tongue, fangs scraping the delicate skin. Beneath your body, you feel the tremor of lust that rolls through him and you smile, the apex predator clutching its prey within possessive talons as you whisper in a voice raw with yearning, “The lady is absolutely…..famished.”

Tagging: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @portrait-ninja @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @mastering-procrastinating @namine-somebodies-nobody @queen-dahlia @nightghoul381 @bubblexly @ozalysss

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Pretty boy

February Filth Fest : Day Four

Park Seonghwa x fem reader

a/n: i feel the need to put a disclaimer? i don't think makeup or clothes or anything have a gender but for the sake of fan fiction: hwa puts on more traditional feminine stuff and gets all pretty 🤭

i have no idea why tumblr posted this earlier than i set it for but it's here now so enjoy 😭

"Tell me, tell me I'm pretty."

(>ᴗ•)genre:

smut, p w/o plot

ಠ_ಠwarning/contents:

not edited, feminization, sub hwa, protected(!!!!) cockwarming & penetration, pet names (pretty, mars, sweetheart & babe, angel), praise

tags: @cherryxsang @k-drizzle

SMUT UNDER CUT MDNI

"Doing so good," you praise as you turn your torso and grab your favorite eyeshadow pallet from the vanity. "So patient for me."

"T-Thank you, Angel."

Seonghwa is gripping the arm rests of his chair like it owes him money. Looking up at you with wide, sparkling eyes and a smile on his painted lips. He's doing everything in his power to be good for you. Everything in his power not to buck up into the warmth of your cunt as it hugs him: unmoving.

You dip a small brush into a light color and tell him to close his eyes. He obeys. He always does. Although, he takes a moment to glance at your naked chest before doing so. "Thank youuu." You take a moment to admire him. His lips are a beautiful, deep pink color. He's wearing his favorite earring of yours. He's dressed in a dress you got just for him, hiked up just above his hips. It's plain, really. But he's so beautiful that he doesn't need anything extravagant.

You peck his eyelid gently before continuing to do his makeup. He jumps a little at the unexpected feeling, accidentally rocking inside of you. You brace yourself on his shoulder with a hiss, biting back a moan as he hits your g-spot. "Hey!"

"Sorry, Babe... you scared me." The both of you laugh a bit before you steady his head with a hand cupping his chin. You feel his cock twitching ever so slightly, even through the condom.

After painting his eyes, you purposely rock your hips back as you grab a liquid eyeliner. You smirk at him as he gives you a pair of puppy eyes. "Finishing touches, Pretty. Don't worry. We're almost done." You draw a little cat line out from his eyes and lean back to take in your work.

"How do I look?" His eyes search your face for any signs of approval, finding them all over as your eyes dilate wider than before and your lips turn up.

"So pretty," you rock your hips on his and he frantically grabs onto you. "My pretty boy."

"Please-" you wait for him as he gathers his words, "please, can I fuck you?" With the smallest nod of your head, he's lifting his hips and fucking into you like there's no tomorrow. "God!"

"Oh," you moan, cupping his face in your hands. He's so cute like this. All done up and needy for you. "Fuck me so good, Mars. So big."

The praise goes straight to his head, filling him with a euphoric buzz. All he can do is buck up into you and stare into your eyes and moan for you. "Te- shit- tell me, tell me I'm pretty."

You coo, kissing his neck and mumbling into it, "you are. The prettiest. My Pretty. My good, pretty, boy. My big, beautiful, Mars." The moan that comes from him is almost a yell, his grip tightening with a bruising force as he lifts you up and down on his cock. "Pretty boy fucks me so good."

"Babe, can you... wanna- good god! Please!"

"What do you want, Sweetheart? Take a breath and tell me..." You intertwine your fingers with his curled hair, making him lean his head back and stopping his ranting effectively.

"Please, Angel, kiss me."

You tug on his hair and ask him, "and ruin your makeup?"

"Yes! Don't care, I need you to kiss me! I need it-"

You cut him off with your lips on his and you roughly mesh together, both moaning as he grabs onto your ass. He slips his tongue into your mouth and lets you do as you please with it- taking it all.

When you pull away, his lipstick is now also yours, smeared messily on the both of your lips.

"So messy, Mars."

"Sorry." No he's not. He got what he wanted and he still has you bouncing on him, bringing him ever closer to his climax.

"It's okay, Sweetheart. Still so pretty."

[mishapocalyse]

Come Marching Home

Soldier Boy x Depressed!Sad!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of depression and mental illness. Soldier Boy is his own warning! Language.

Description: Soldier Boy gets a call from his best girl, you. However, instead of the happy, giggling sweetheart he's used to loving. It is a side that you hate. He's marching home, your--Soldier Boy.

Crimson Countess had stood next to her boss as his mind wandered elsewhere. These fucking movie shoots, oh how he despised them. Although he did want to admit he’d get to ogle pretty women who’d always be almost clad nude, walking amongst the supes’. He found himself only thinking about that one girl back home. The one he had to force himself out of bed from every morning. He’d reluctantly roll over to the edge, reluctantly kiss her goodbye, reluctantly close the door behind him. He never wanted to leave her side—he could drop all of this if he ever wanted to. However, this is what he had to do.

For her.

Countess nudged him with her elbow, knocking him from his thoughts.

“What.” He asked, his attention turning to her.

Countess, not wanting to start an argument kept her voice low and content.

“You’ve been acting really off lately. The fuck is your problem?” She questions, pressing a hand to his chest.

“Need me to take care of something for you? You seem stressed.” Countess reached down to firmly plant her other hand to his groin.

Soldier Boy pushes her away from him, the others taking notice. The PA hurriedly walking towards them to make sure everything was ready for the day of shooting. His green eyes that were sea foam in color, the ones that usually sparkled in admiration for his girl, were dark and filled with an anger, a disappointment in the woman in front of him. He gripped to Countess’s arm giving it a harsh squeeze.

“Don’t fucking touch me, we’ve been over this. We aren’t fucking together, Cooze.” He spits.

Countess did not take kindly to that.

“And who are you fucking now, hm?” She asks but he doesn’t answer.

Instead, he’s walking away from her, away from everyone for the day. He sits with his hands folded and his head hanging low, trying to calm himself down before he punched someone. That moment of silence was ruined when a hard knock at his trailer’s door interrupted his thoughts.

“Can’t a man get an ounce of fucking peace around here, for fucks sake.” He pushed himself up from the chair, ripping the trailer door open to find his assistant shaking, terrified of him.

“Better be important, or you can find yourself another fucking like of work, sweetheart.” He threatens, out of the ordinary.

The assistant nods as she becomes him to come out.

“You have a call on line one, someone is asking for you.” She states.

“Tell them to call back later. I’m busy at the moment.” He replies, his arms crossed.

She heaves a shaky sigh. “Afraid she won’t take no for an answer, sir.”

Soldier Boy after hearing that practically runs to the phone. He’s worried now, not giving a shit that his teammates are watching him. When his hands land on the phone inside the small office space he’s happy.

“Hey pretty girl, you alright?” He whispers into the phone.

But his girls voice is pained. He noticed she’d been crying, possibly for a good minute, her breath is shaky, she’s sniffling, until finally she’s breaking down with him over the phone.

"Y/N? Baby...what's wrong-"

"I miss you." you said, sniffling. "I know you're busy. I shouldn't have called. Are you mad at me now?"

"No." he began. "No...no, no--baby, I'm not mad at you. I miss you too pretty girl. Tell me what's wrong." He murmurs.

For a second he thinks he will wait to go home. But he does otherwise.

"I love you, pretty girl. I have to get going. I'll see you soon." He waits for you to answer, instead it is replaced with silence.

Soldier Boy ignores Countess, ignores his assistant walking behind him, ignores his teammates awkward stares and yelling after him. Once he is in the truck, he's driving to get you flowers, food and things that he knows will cheer you up. He plowed through the store, pushing aside fans, making it his personal mission to get home to you.

His pretty girl.

Soon, he is pulling into the driveway, running to the front door. Anyone else he'd tell them to fuck off. You were special.

You were his.

"Y/N? Are you here?" He hollered up the stairs of your shared home. He purchased it for you both to get away from the spotlight.

He could hear you softly sobbing in your shared room, his boots clunking up the steps towards you. Then he's opening the door, ready to be here for you. Once Soldier Boy sees the room, it is over. He's changing into his pajamas, throwing his shield to the floor, coming to your aid as his strong arms wrap around you in a loving embrace. You knew he wouldn't be doing this for anyone else. Yes, you knew how he was with other women, but when he came home, he came home ready to be with you.

"I'm here, pretty girl." He envelops you in his embrace, light feathery kisses trapped upon your cheek, your neck, your shoulders.

He's running a hand through your hair, tousling it between his calloused fingers. You're breaking in front him again, your eyes red and puffy from how much you had been crying.

"I was scared that maybe you wouldn't come home. It was a stupid thought. I feel so stupid doing this to you. I shouldn't have called you when you were at work. I'm sorry. " You cried between sobs.

"Shh." He planted a kiss on your temple, brushing away the hot, wet tears streaking down your face. "I understand. I missed you too, baby."

"You don't understand though. I'm a fucking mess, I hate myself and the way I look. I see you with Crimson Countess and these outrageously gorgeous women and I sit here and think, I wish that were me up there with you. I want to be there with you. But there is this part of me that also doesn't want to be here period. Maybe you would do better without me, Ben. I feel like I am a burden when I am around you, like I weight you down--" He steals your lips in a firm, haughty kiss. Dragging you under him in one fluid motion. You're on fire in an instant as his fingertips lightly brush against the cool skin of your stomach. When he pulls away his eyes are wet, brimming with tears that never fell. You could clearly tell how he felt about you.

"I could never think you were ever a burden to me, Y/N. You are the only woman that puts up with my shit. I get lucky every night, even if I'm not trying to put a bun in the oven, pretty girl. I don't want another woman. I want you. You think that I like perusing the town with other women? I fucking don't. It's a waste of my time. Before you? Yeah, I fucked around, did what I wanted, and then you--fell from whatever place you came from and I had to say to myself, 'fuck, there is a God.'" You playfully slap his arm through your tears, as you tried to smile. Your hands raising to caress his face, looking into his exhausted eyes.

"I love you. I always will pretty girl." He smiles, bending down to press another harsh kiss to your lips, his scruffy beard scratching your face.

The kisses were the sweetest when he was with you, the nights where he would hold you as close as he could, afraid that if you let go, you would wither away in his grasp. He's gotten a lot better as a person, he may be an asshole. A narcissistic prick, but with you? He was the perfect man. He never let you forget how much you meant to him. The love of your life.

Your little Soldier Boy.

[sashi-ya]

𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 ♡ ᴅᴀʏ 26 ➡ 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐗, 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑. nsfw .minors dni 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐮 𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐢 𝐱 𝐟! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: @bookandyarndragon asked: May I please ask for day 26 with Kyoraku and a f!reader for Kinktober? 𝐓𝐰: nsfw. oral. usage of alcohol. vag sex. mutual teasing. cream pie. daddy! shunsui (you can't tell me you don't want to call this man daddy). also spoilers from TYBW 𝐰𝐜: 1.4k ➡ hentober masterlist

Kyoraku Shunsui, general captain and casanova. His taste for sake and everything relaxing is nothing new to any of you, and because of it you all know he has his own bath house to ease the pressure of carrying with the weight of all Gotei 13 . Tonight, however, his relaxing bath has been put on hold for later; a night out with his beloved colleagues awaited for him at one of their fave spot in the Seireitei...

Some drunken red hairs are singing at the Karaoke bar, Squad 10th vice-captain and squad 6th third place, while you, are on your way to become as wasted as they are. Sake shots filling your blood, but still too sober to act crazy.

The doors of the bar open, and the classic pink haori flows with the wind gust created. There is no way that, underneath the straw hat, you wouldn’t be able to find your favourite captain, Kyoraku Shunsui.

“Oi, already that drunk you all?” he asks, falling over one of the chairs next to you and laughing. “Not me, General Captain. Not yet” you mumble, biting your lips. It’s impossible for you to hide how anxious it makes you feel when he is close to you.

Kyoraku is way more relaxed that Yamamoto, but that doesn’t mean you have to be disrespectful, so you bow before him and sit back down. He scoffs while the rest of the guys keep talking drunk words, and Captain Hirako serves him a cup of a so needed sake.

“Why are you so formal with me, (Name)?” he inquires you, after drinking a sip. His words seem to hide something else, something the rest doesn’t know but you.

You look to the ground, your cheeks becoming hot, hotter than fire itself. He is playing with you…You sigh, almost louder than the bustling around. Your throat becoming dry, and your lips slightly separating. Although your legs aren’t. You cross them, creating a lot of pressure up your sex. Shunsui himself makes you aroused but remembering the way he fucked you against the wall of his bedroom some nights ago is making it worse.

“Because you are the general captain…” you whisper, fixing your gaze on the side smirk he gives you as he hides under his hat.

“We are having fun, (Name)… don’t worry… just remember the way you treated me when…” he playfully says, coming closer to you while the rest of the captains aren’t paying attention.

You widen your eyes, what is he gonna say? When what? Your hands go over the table, ready to pounce on him if it was necessary to shut his mouth.

Shunsui takes his hat off and lays back again. With a scoff he finishes the sentence that had trembling; “the way you treated me when I was the 8th squad captain, I mean”

You start breathing again, the alcohol hits your brain this time and everything around becomes foggy. “Excuse me, Taicho. I need fresh air” you mumble, taking the last big sip from your glass and walking away with difficulty.

All the way outside you dammed Kyoraku, from him to his late passed relatives. Now you understand Nanao-chan way more than ever. However, you think that the one who is to blame the most is yourself. You got into his bed sheets, you let him own you…

You sit on the sidewalk curb; your hair hangs on each side of your face and the soft breeze of the Soul Society kisses your heated cheeks. “I knew that wasn’t a good idea…” you regret it yourself, what the rest would think of you if they found out you fucked your captain… and the general captain of all Gotei 13?

You are subtly illuminated by a lamppost, since the moon has hidden behind dense stormy clouds. A cold drop pools on your eyelashes, and that one marks the first one of many others falling from the sky. Your shihakusho becomes wet, your hair too. You begin to shiver, hating the rain and the night.

“Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting to find you like a little puppy in the rain, are you feeling abandoned?” a well known soft but manly voice makes you turn around.  “Here, cover up” Shunsui says, using his flowery haori to cover your shoulders and back.

You clench to the clothing piece; it smells like him and it’s warm like his skin.

“Thank you…” you mumble, embarrassed, seeing your reflection on a poodle of rain water on the street. But, instead of him sitting next to you, or even helping you stand up by lending his hand, he simply lifts you up over his shoulder.

You protest, hitting his back repeatedly -but quite softly- with your fists. “You are gonna catch a cold, let’s have a hot bath… shall we, (Name)-chan? ”...

Not only Shunsui’s bedroom is big, but also his bathroom… or should I say bath house?... Steam comes from a huge pool of warm water, the tin roof being pelt by the storm outside, him untying the cords that hold his shihakusho together.

Huge man, muscular, mature, tanned skin. His hairpins now rest on the side of the pool, and his long hair falls free over his shoulders. “Aren’t you coming, (Name)-chan?” he asks, so nonchalantly walking absolutely naked in front of you.

It’s not the first time you’ve seen him with no clothes, but it still surprises you. The way he gets into the huge tub, relaxing so calmly, waiting for you to enter to probably fuck you rough and make the water splash everywhere.

You swallow, you can’t say no. Not anymore, you don’t want to say no…

Haori falling to the ground, your wet uniform too. Your naked skin tempting him, the bottle of sake next to the pool ends up on his lips… he really needs to have a drink to cool off… his way more mature than you are, and he is absolutely needy, thirsty, hungry for your younger anatomy.

“Don’t look at me like that” you scold him, crossing your arms under your breasts, making them protrude a little up. “How else am I supposed to look at you, (Name)? Come here, I want you” he commands, his healthy eye devouring you with just the sight of you.

As your foot touches the first step to get into the pool, Kyoraku touches your ankle and plants a sweet kiss over it. He cannot wait for you to be fully inside, and you either… but you know too well that slow teasing is the way to spellbound men like him.

Before entering fully, you turn around, bending over just to pick a sakazuki for yourself; you also need some sake. Your legs together, your sex flashed against him, exposed, and served to him.

“Fuck it, (Name)-chan” he swears, rising up from the bottom and placing each hand on your glutes. He spreads them, nuzzling on your sex with a heavy grunt and his tongue immediately tasting your core honeys.

You whine and bite your lip, he goes feral, he devours you. And it’s not until he is satisfied with it -and your legs are about to fail you- that he pulls you inside the pool from your waist.

You fall over his lap, your back hitting his chest, your ass his hard dick. “You know what I am gonna do now with you, don’t you?” he whispers in your ear, laughing so sexily, kissing your wet skin.

You bite your lips, looking subtly to the side, feeling his hands coming up to your breasts and his own sex searching for your entrance underwater. “What are you going to do with me, daddy?” you purr, letting the warm water flow in between your needy anatomies.

Kyoraku’s huge hand presses your carotids, while the other one helps his shaft entering you. You whine loudly while your walls clench to him, and the water fills your womb. It feels unique, and for sure amazing.

He squeezes your neck harder; it makes you gag a little. “Call me daddy once again and I promise you that I will fill you up with my cum until I become one” he murmurs, loud enough for you to hear in between the splashing noises of his hips ramming into you.  

You smirk, and when Shunsui turns you around to look at your breasts bounce in and out of the water, you repeat “yes, daddy ~”

“You better keep daddy’s cum inside, then” he grunts, pulling you out of the tub, leaving you over the side of it while he crawls out too.

Immediately after, with your legs resting over his chest and shoulders, he impales you deeply, roughly. His hands grip your breasts tightly, your moans echo all around the bath house, your climaxing spasms milk his sex… giving you what you’ve been waiting.

“Yes… daddy, Shunsui” “Ngh… Make Captain Kyoraku a daddy, (Name)-chan… come on”  

[leporellian]

the il trovatore brothers are the funniest thing in the world to me. i don’t think this is a slight against the opera (no tragedy works without good comedy) but please i need you to take my hand and see my vision here

IMAGINE you are a commoner in aragon and you hear that the old count di luna, who for the sake of the argument i imagine as being roughly the human equivalent of a german shepherd, has died and his son frederic is now the new count di luna. Your first thought is “his son’s not dead?” because you were SURE that strange weirdly tall sickly boy you remember having a foot in the grave when he was like 12 was Gone by this point but apparently not. “No the other son died this one is alright” Sure. Yeah. Before you realize that everything is a sham operation in Aragon you’re willing to believe this one.

As a child frederic was like a sickly victorian boy who’s response to any unusual stimuli was to cover his head with his hands and shake violently, and who could Only tolerate a supper of mushy carrots and warm broth lest he lose his appetite and faint the next day, and who Always referred to everyone else by their full titles and would put on a strangely adultlike air lest his father take him around the back of the castle for physical punishment. you go to meet the new count, now that he’s an adult and in charge of the property, and you’re greeted with a man who is 1) Exactly the same height he was as a boy (he was 5’2” in the second grade, which was freakishly tall then, but then he just stopped growing when he was 7 apparently) and 2) Entirely decked out in sparkly clothing. “It’s a statement,” he explains. you don’t know what angle the statement is coming from. he cannot properly sit in chairs and has a variety of jointed wood toy animals on his desk he plays with when he gets listless. he’s suddenly full of energy, the sort that would have killed him as a young boy, but he still will respond to unusual situations by covering his eyes with his hands or just turning around to face the wall (or, alternately, hissing at people). he has an attempt at a mustache like his old man’s but it’s just sort of sad and because he’s extremely blonde it just looks like a variety of mold growth. unfortunately this man was born too early to throw all his riches into an eccentric but ill-fated theme park so you have to deal with this Thing until then.

MEANWHILE one day you take a wander around and see the largest fucking man you’ve ever seen in your life carrying a good chunk of a whole ass tree. it’s not even that he’s Tall, although he is, he’s just the sort of man the phrase “built like a brick shithouse” was invented for. he’s hairy and gruff and weirdly youthful and you have No idea what this discount paul bunyan fuck is doing so you go to approach him. “Oh, Ma needed kindling”, he says in the manner of a well meaning farmhand. then you see him pluck an acorn off the part of the tree he’s carrying and eat it raw. he offers it to you and reasons they’re “quite good actually”. you’re too stupefied to actually respond either way. How old is he? Oh he’s only seventeen. Okay. Sure. later in the night you hear some beautiful but INCREDIBLY leather-lunged singing and come to find the giant from earlier has a wee lute that he plucks incredibly gently. you tell him he’s doing a nice job playing it but he needs to quiet down because you’re trying to sleep. “the lute is a she, not an it, you need to respect women,” he says. it sounds like the corny sort of thing you’d see on 2018 tumblr but somehow he’s completely serious. (does he respect women? what the fuck is he talking about? you don’t actually know the answer to either question.)

You are only going to realize the fictional nature of your life when you hear the news that one killed the other (despite the killed one probably being capable of crushing the killer’s spine on accident) and then it turned out they were secretly BROTHERS somehow,

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day Twenty-Three - Prompt: Cropped @rosekiller-microfic

March Daily Series - 972 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Barty allowed himself a full thirty-six hours of recovery before returning to The Ink Spot. He was sore, but mobile. That was enough.

When he stepped in the door, Emmeline loudly snorted and promptly covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. She knew what he was doing, as did anyone else that cared to pay attention. Every time someone else worked on him, Evan became a little more unhinged. He was possessive as fuck over his clients and Barty was counting on that playing in his favour.

“What now?” Evan grumbled. His stall was the first one past the waiting room, so he had a front row seat to Barty’s nonsense.

“Morning, Em,” Barty said cheerfully. He flashed a bright smile at her and she winked conspiratorially. It was unlikely that she knew the details of any of this, she simply enjoyed the game at Evan’s expense. “Anyone available?”

“Fuck.”

Emmeline hummed an amused little tune as she scanned her list. “If you’re willing to wait about an hour? I can squeeze you in.”

“For fuck’s sake, Emmeline. Just tell him ‘no’ for once,” Evan hissed.

She ignored him and gestured at the chairs. “Settle in.”

Barty moved carefully through the maze of outstretched legs and eased into a chair near the front window. He would be on his best behaviour today. That was sure to drive Evan mad. If he couldn’t hear him, he’d be more likely to check on him, which meant that he would spend the entire hour thinking about him. It was a sound plan.

Unless he decides to strangle me. Very possible alternative.

This would probably have been counterproductive with anyone else, but with Evan, stubborn determination tended to pay off. Not always, but often enough.

He focused on the second half of his plan. This part required more finesse, which was not his forte. Barty typed his message, deleted the first half, typed it again, then deleted it entirely. He leaned forward and rubbed his forehead.

How can I make things right with Pandora without addressing Regulus first? And how do I do that?

This was the part of his plan that he was least confident in. Evan probably wouldn’t really take him back unless he made amends, but Barty had burned those bridges with a fucking flamethrower.

There has to be a way. I have to find a way before Evan moves on.

Barty wracked his brain for ideas. Nothing seemed to go far enough to make up for cheating on Reg. At least not when he was trying to avoid the appearance of pursuing him. That would be a dangerous proposition. He wasn’t a moron. Evan would murder him if Pandora and Dorcas didn’t get the job done first.

While scrolling Instagram for inspiration, he landed on Sirius’s profile. Among the lot of them, Sirius was the only one who hadn’t blocked him yet. Although, that was likely because he’d never interacted with Sirius online before. If he tried it, chances were good he’d be blocked by him too.

Idly, he flipped through Sirius’s photos. There were several of a tall bloke, a redhead, and a brawny man with glasses, but few of the people Barty recognised. Pandora was in one and Regulus was in two. Then, he landed on one with the brawny man and Regulus together.

Hold on, I know him. He’s friends with Peter.

Barty searched Sirius’s profile for the short, heavyset bloke with close-cropped hair that he’d run into at the club in Scotland. He hadn’t connected Peter to Sirius at the time, but it couldn’t be a coincidence that this Latino fellow was friends with both and for one not to know the other. Peter was friendly enough and asked if he had any weed to sell, so he’d sold it to him. The shorter bloke had chattered like a magpie the entire time, but the brawny man just loomed behind him like a security guard.

“There you are,” he muttered to himself. “Peter. Peter, hmm. How are you connected, mate?”

After a few minutes of deliberation, Barty opened Peter’s profile. He was some sort of business lackey. No wonder he needed the weed. His profile wasn’t extensive, but his DMs were open. Barty decided to give it a go. The worst that could happen is that Peter told him to piss off.

Met you at the club in Edinburgh a few weeks back and realised we know the same people. I fucked things up with a friend or two and want to apologise. Mind offering some advice? I’d make it worth your while.

-Barty (grass distributor extraordinaire)

Within minutes, he had a response:

Vaguely remember you, but your weed was top quality. Who are we talking about?

Barty hurriedly responded:

Regulus and Pandora. We used to be close, but I fucked it up and I’m trying to make amends.

There was a longer pause this time, but eventually Peter replied:

Are you the one who showed up in Wales?

Fuck. If Peter knew about his dust-up with Pandora in Wales, it was unlikely that he’d help now. Barty considered lying, but figured the truth was easier to defend.

Yeah, I was off it. Part of what I want to apologise for, actually.

Peter responded with a curt dismissal that Barty absolutely deserved:

Sounds like a you problem.

Well, fuck.”

Barty knew it was a long shot, but he had to try. The reality was harder to swallow, but easier to accept. He’d promised not to approach Pandora or Regulus directly, and he didn’t even know how to contact Dorcas, so that left Evan. Somehow, he had to win Evan back without fixing things. That should blow up in his face in approximately three days.

Next Part>>>

[beevean]

Imagine if CoD had two endings:

One where Julia doesn't show up at the end and so Hector dies as the castle crumbles

And the good ending available only if you find every chair in the game, with no immediate logical connection, leading us to believe that she really loves a man who knows his chairs

You know what? You're right! Why didn't IGA go the SotN and HoD route and imply all women in CV are really really horny for men into exploration?? Call that the juiciest of lores!

In all seriousness, multiple endings for CoD would have been great, although I understand the game didn't have the proper budget/time for it. But imagine an ending where Hector kills Isaac during his rageboner moment because he didn't remember Julia's words in time, and boom, he gets corrupted and Death uses him to resurrect Dracula - this could have even been like Julius Mode in DoS and unlocked Trevor Mode, who now has to stop Dracula again. Maybe you could get the good ending if you speak to Julia in the shop multiple times, so that the grip of the Curse relents on Hector (since clearly Julia's presence calms him down)?

An ending where Hector dies in the castle would be too sad, though :( I'm not even sure how much you have to fuck up for that to happen :( although now that I think about it, it also reminds me a bit of DoS where Mina's amulet allows Soma to delay his corruption enough for Arikado to intervene, so uhmmm... maybe if you take too much time fighting Dracula, Julia doesn't show up? Or Hector lets himself die faster if you have missed something that would give him a reason to resist? Argh, now I'm thinking too much.

anyway julia should have absolutely smooched hector in the chair room. bro literally sat on a toilet that was previously under a lake for the sake of his collection. i think he deserves a little treat

[l0serwriter]

★heyllo, heya hii- erm. First off, how are you and urh, second- I've got a request idea.★

★Okay, here's the idea for an oneshot: Rise!Donnie x borrower!reader. Please hear me out on this one (the details are going to be long !!):

So, Donnie had recently found out that (borrower reader) has been living in the walls of his lab for quite some time now and he somewhat got interested into learning about them- maybe even meet them. And although the thought of jarring (borrower! reader) is..there- he decides to try and approach them by talking to them and that kind of stuff- However, there's just one small problem, because ever since being found by Donatello, (borrower!reader) just, erm, refuses to come out of the walls. At all.

Okay, maybe only in case of emergency or if Donatello is asleep, but other than that- nu uh, there's no way they are stepping out of there. - Oh, you are asking the reason as to why they won't come out?

Well, y'know how Donnie sometimes..most of the- urh, EVERY TIME he does an experiment in the lab he just acts like he has lost it. Yeh, pulling long monologues to particularly no one- acting like the mad scientist he is. That sort of stuff. And if combined all the loud noises and clanging that his machines and tools produce, erm yeah. It may just be absolutely hellish for (borrower!reader) since they can't really move to another room.

They were probably scarred, maybe lost precious sleep due to the sounds all around them. The lab for is on the second floor for fucks sake, it's an absolute vast compared to em. Plus, thanks to Donatello's inventions and perhaps, cameras, (borrower!reader) would have a higher chance of getting spotted and most likely, to their dismay- captured.

As I said- they deny them to get out of the lab's walls but Donnie has other plans for them. He wants them to come out so that he can learn more stuff about them. Maybe he do a little inspection of them? Although, he'd doubt that a creature as small as (reader) would let him get close to them.

..With that said, he now tries to coax (borrower!reader) out of the walls. Or maybe even make them a bit more comfortable in his presence? Sure, he does feel a little embarrassed that he is talking to a wall, unsure whether they want to listen to him or not. However, he does want to give it a try.

★yeah, those were the ideas that I have. I know it may seem a little too specific but erh. So urh. Sorry for that-★

★also since this is the first meeting between Donatello and Reader this would be platonic..most likely- but I live the trope up to you-★

★Now, if you don't know what a borrower (the species) is, you could DM me for more details and I happily infodump, explain what they are- urh, yeah.★

★so bye, take care- have a good day or night and, erm, bye <3★

Hi, I am so sorry it took so long for me to do this but I hope you enjoy. Also please correct me if I made any spelling or grammar mistakes in this.

Donatello was just minding his own business while working on one of his many projects. But, he had the strange feeling of being watched. He decided it was probably just his lack of sleep getting to him. He yawned softly and decided he should probably try to get at least some sleep. As he stood up from his chair he could have sworn he saw what looked like, WAS THAT A TAIL! He immediately went over to where he seen it to find a tiny hold in his lab wall. He crouched down to try and get a better look to find nothing. “Hello?” Donnie asked to no one in particular as he stood up sighed, but with this new discovery of his. He knew he had to get a closer look and understanding of what he saw.

You let out a small sigh of relief after seeing the giant turtle leave. You know you should have just watched from the tiny hole but how could you? His tech and inventions always amazed you. But one reason why you haven’t gotten closer is because of the way he talks to himself nonstop. It honestly creeped you out. Plus you didn’t want his to scream at you like he does the other turtles especially the blue one. So you just stay in the comfort of your own home and watch from afar.

It has been a day since Donnie had discovered that there was a small creature (Which he now knows is called a borrower) was living in his lab’s walls. He wanted to know more about them, like what they looked like, what they eat, etc. So he decided to try and bribe them into coming out. He placed down a small plate of berries to see if they would come out. He noticed that whenever he was around so he left the lab but he checked the cameras he had in his lab to watch and observe. 

All he could do was hope that you came out of your little hole.

[abyss-presence]

Hey, can you write Forrest x reader, enemies to friends please?

A/n: Thank you for the request! I hope the setting and reader's personality is to your liking.

Note: no usage of Y/N, instead [name] is used; second person pov; there are two time skips in total. Reader is gender neutral and they/them pronouns are used like two times.

Trauma Bonding.

You don't really understand why it happened, but that doesn't matter now.

What matters is, Forrest is an annoying piece of shit. By God how much he pisses you off, and that feeling seems to be mutual. You really can't help it, that guy is just a definition of a bastard. Neither of you cares how this stupid rivalry started, but you've been on each others' asses all the time, just constantly being a bother and a menace to one another.

And while you hated to admit it, it was sort of fun. Forrest's reactions to your little stunts were amusing as hell, so it only added fuel to the fire.

And you would be perfectly fine with things staying that way, but now you were stuck at the god damn KFAM building because what? A serial killer is out on the streets? Pfft, whatever man.

"Just so you know, I'd much prefer if the Whistling Man got me than staying here." you said harshly, sitting down at the couch in front of Peggy's booth. Just hearing Forrest talk made you upset. That man had way too much snark going on, he seriously needs to calm down with that shit.

"No one's holding you here." It just felt like you wanted to punch him every time he spoke, which was the case right now too.

"Settle down you two, we have more important things to care about now." Peggy brought you both back to reality. She was leaning her head on her palm and already looked tired of your constant back and forth bickering.

"Peggy, how come you tolerate him so well?" you could swear you saw Forrest roll his eyes.

"You guys just need to stop arguing so much. Why are you even fighting?" Peggy asks, shifting a little to be more comfortable in her chair.

"Because he's/they're annoying," the two of you said in sync, which only made you exchange a glare between each other. The woman laughed at that. It was honestly hilarious how you two hated each other for no apparent reason, even though your personalities would go well together in theory.

"Oh I see how it is. So you two are just being bitter for the sake of being bitter?" Only silence followed Peggy's question...

Hours have passed already. The night was getting more and more intense, and it was stressing everyone out. You were honestly both impressed and surprised by how well Forrest have managed to deal with this situation. Maybe that alone has earned your respect for him.

Even still, it was horrible to hear that kid get murdered. Poor guy, he was probably no older than 16... sure he was an ass, but that didn't mean he deserved to die. That made you think... if Forrest was to meet the same fate, would you feel the same way? Would it be a petty kind of grief? You would rather not find out.

Which is exactly why-

"Forrest man, you know I can't stand you, but no fucking way. I'm going down with you." Your tone was firm, and it was obvious you wouldn't back down no matter what he said.

"Whatever, lets just go already." He knew it would be pointless to try and argue with you, you would just keep being stubborn to annoy him. But maybe, just maybe, he was a little glad that you would tag along. It was totally not because the presence of another person with him, a person who he knows all too well, would make him feel more safe and protected, of course not, you would be foolish to think that that was the case! He'd just use you as a meat shield if the two of you got attacked. Yep, that was totally it, no other reason whatsoever.

You followed him downstairs, taking in the sight of the interior. It was kind of cozy in here, although you had to admit that the place was a mess. Well, on the second floor that is, the first one seemed pretty neat if you don't look behind the reception.

You made your way through said reception, through the basement and finally through the fire exit. As Forrest walked through the door, you stayed behind to hold it open just in case, that thing didn't look reliable enough for you to be sure that it won't shut behind you. Forrest only raised an eyebrow at you but didn't question it any further.

You'd hear him talk to no one in particular and of course you had to make a snarky remark about how this man had went insane while being so up in his own ass. However, just as you heard something that sounded like footsteps followed up with rustling, you panicked and quickly ran to find Forrest, completely forgetting about the door.

"Forrest?! Bastard man where are you?!" You half whispered half screamed, frantically looking around the back alley. When you came around the corner your eyes first landed on the Whistling Man who stood behind the fence and then walked away. Forrest, however, didn't seem to notice him at all... What a dork.

"So you found it?" You questioned him, looking over his shoulder briefly with your hands crossed over your chest.

"Sure did- Wait why are you here? Weren't you supposed to hold the door open?!" after a while, you began to pick up on certain behavior patterns and habits that Forrest had, one of which was that half lowered tone he always used when he was stressed and frustrated. Damn, pulling out all the dirty moves now, are you Forrest Nash?

"What the hell do you want from me! I thought you were about to be murdered!" ohh, you didn't like the way those two sentences sounded coming from you, it almost made it seem like you actually cared about him, which was totally not the case!

Forrest gasps dramatically, covering his mouth with the free hand that wasn't holding the "Lomg Ride Home", "Oh my God [name], is that what I think this is? Are you perhaps... worried about me?" he said in his signature smug tone, handing you the recording while you were distracted fuming over his stupid words. Without even realizing it, you took it from him.

"Shut up." A classic response, one that is usually a sign that he said something frustratingly stupid that you can't be bothered to come up with something witty to say.

"Sure man. We have the recording now, let's return." You hate to agree with him, but nod anyway, and the two of you make your way back to the fire exit.

Of course, just as you had suspected, it shut behind you as soon as you left, which only caused you both to be even more annoyed. This night was already horrible as it was, you couldn't get stuck outside now! Forrest said something about finding another way in, like a lift to the basement or whatnot. And surely enough, there was one right nearby.

Since it had no power, the two of you found a generator, and after that split ways to hunt around for some fuses to replace the burnt out ones. "Does anything work properly in this God forsaken place?" You think to yourself, picking up a good handful of fuses. However, those aren't the only thoughts that were plaguing your mind. You can't help but feel anxious being away from Forrest after you saw... well, him. And of course, it was totally only because you didn't want to help him or drag his body inside if he got killed! But either way, you hurriedly made your way back to the generator, looking around for Forrest. When you didn't see him anywhere, you could feel anxiety rise in your chest.

"Forrest? Forrest where are you?" You whispered again, dropping all the fuses on the crates nearby. Then you felt a pair of hands suddenly slam against your shoulders.

"Boo," you heard from behind yourself. Naturally, given tonight's circumstances, your first reflex was to fight. So as soon as you turned around, Forrest got shoved away and punched in the stomach. "Augh, what the hell."

"Jesus Christ Forrest! Do you have wind in your head or what?!" Even despite the fact that you cursed him out, you still felt kinda relieved to see him again. At least he wasn't the Whistling Man...

"That hurt you know." He said nonchalantly, as if he didn't just give you three heart attacks at once. You also noticed that he brought back some fuses too.

"Good. That's what you deserve." Truly, these two were made for each other. Who else would bicker and argue about dumb things when out at night in a dark alleyway with a killer on the loose?

The two of you made quick work with that generator, turning the power back on and making your way into the building through the basement.

But not in a single lifetime did you imagine finding... whatever the hell this was. You couldn't choose what creeped you out more: the fact that there was a secret hideout in the basement, all the mannequins with red cross eyes, all the photos attached to red strings and hanging in the air, or the board with news article cutouts and stickers with names and places on them. The latter seemed to grab Forrest's attention first though. Overall, this entire situation made your anxiety grow even more, and your thoughts wandered over to Peggy.

Sure, she is supposed to be safely locked in her producer booth, but... still, what if the Whistling Man somehow got to her? And both of you were downstairs, unable to protect her... You didn't want to imagine the sight of the glass being broken and Peggy laying lifelessly on the floor, probably horrifically injured. You didn't want to imagine it, but you did, and it only made things worse. You could feel your body heat up from growing stress, and only a minute or two later did you notice Forrest shaking you by the shoulder.

"[Name], you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost." No way, did Forrest sound worried too? That's hilarious. Sort of endearing too.

"What if... something happens to Peggy?" You didn't even want to say it, you didn't want to express your concerns, especially not to him, but it came naturally. You just blurted it out without thinking.

"She's gonna be alright." Forrest was dumbfounded by your sudden serious tone and panicked look. He didn't expect you to suddenly act like this, if anything he expected another snarky reply. However, the fact that you trusted him enough to let him have a peek into your thoughts made him feel responsible for making things better for you. He already had to comfort a bunch of terrified victims today, so he could surely do it again.

"And what if she won't? What if the Whistling Man gets her? We're not there to protect her, but even if we were, would we be able to protect her anyway? That freak is strong and fast..." your mind began to spiral pretty fast.

"Thinks this through [name], how could he possibly get to her if he was at the old murder house and she is here, in her booth with the door locked?" And that was the worst about this. Forrest didn't know. He didn't see. So you took it upon yourself to break the news to him:

"No, no! You don't understand, I saw him here! He was right outside the building!" Your voice was growing more and more hysterical the longer you had to talk, and it was making him panick too.

"Wait, here? You saw him here?" Forrest asked you, mindlessly placing his hands on your shoulders.

"Yes Nash, here!" Oh damn. You usually only used his last name when things went over the line, so it only made the situation more tense.

"Okay, okay, calm down, deep breaths [name]. Let's get this thing," he patted the board you saw on the wall, "upstairs first and then we will check up on Peggy, alright?" After a moment of hesitation, you agreed. You grabbed the keys from the staircase that were on the table, and Forrest took the board. While you made your way back, with you occasionally glancing at Forrest and him giving you a reassuring nod in return, you couldn't help but feel grateful to him for helping you calm down. It was almost disgusting how well this man managed to soothe your worries, even if just a little bit.

When you finally made it back, you were relieved to find Peggy safe, sound and unharmed. That made your respect meter for Forrest go up like 0.5 percent. Still, you hated his guts. Or... or did you?

The second time wasn't so fortunate. Peggy wasn't unharmed, but she was relatively safe and getting help. You let out a breath that you've been holding in for ages, and you could feel your heart rate begin to slowly decrease. You turned to Forrest after he signed off his show, and couldn't help but smile.

"Maybe you're not as much of an ass as I thought."

And with that, you've bonded over your mutual trauma of the Whistling Night of '87 and have been friends ever since. Inseparable and insufferable if you will. So yeah,

You don't really understand why it happened, but that doesn't matter now.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

A War of the Heart - Chapter Five | Luke Alvez x Fem! Reader

Previous Chapter

Chapter Summary - Spencer’s arrest causes you to spiral into a bottle and leads to you and Luke having a heated argument which somehow ends with a mutual understanding.

Category - heavy angst | smut | eventual happy ending.

Content Warnings - prison arc but doesn’t go into detail, drugs, murder and all the things that go with the prison arc, drinking, drunk reader, swearing, arguing, aggression, mild violence.

WC - 3.9k

Chapter Five

Present - Matamoros, Mexico

Two days after your break up, the last place you expected to find yourself was in Mexico, staring into the drugged eyes of your ex-boyfriend who clearly had no idea who you were. 

When Emily had dropped the bombshell to the team that Spencer had been arrested in Mexico on suspicion of drug possession with intent to distribute after leading the Mexican authorities on a high speed chase through the desert, you struggled to wrap your head around the information. 

Nothing about it made sense. Why was Spencer in Mexico? Why did he have drugs in his car? Why was he running away from the cops? What the fuck was going on? 

You didn’t really have a lot of time to process the information before you, Emily and Luke were on the jet heading for Matamoros. You sat alone at the back of the plane, needing some time to try to understand all of this. Two days ago he’d been in your apartment and now he was in a Mexican holding cell. What had gone on in the space of forty eight hours to lead to this? 

About half way through the flight you heard the footsteps approaching and you prayed it was Emily although you knew better. Luke slid into the chair opposite you and sighed. 

“I need to ask you some questions, you know that.” He spoke, his voice croaky. 

“Have Emily do it.” You wouldn’t look at him. 

“No.” He stood his ground. “You’ll be more honest with me.” 

You glanced from where you’d been staring out of the window across to him. You wanted to argue with him, you wanted to scream at him that he was the last person you wanted to talk to. But for the sake of figuring out what happened to Spencer, you needed to speak to him.

“Fine.” You folded your arms. 

“When was the last time you saw Reid?” 

“Two days ago after the case in Palm Springs.” 

“Did he mention anything about going to Mexico?”

“No.” You shook your head. “He just said he had some things to figure out about what to do with his mom.” 

“He didn’t give any indication that he might-“

“No!” You cut him off. “He left my apartment after breaking up with me and I don’t know where he went, ok?” You snapped, knowing full well Emily would have heard you down the jet too. 

Luke sucked in a breath, averting his eyes from you and clearly feeling guilty for pressuring that out of you. 

“I uh…I’m sorry I didn’t know.” He chewed on his bottom lip. 

“Yeah well, now you do.” You sat back in your chair and looked out of the window again. “You’ll be pleased to know you don’t have to lie anymore, the secrets out. Now, please, leave me alone.” 

Luke didn’t think you should be alone right now but he was sure if he tried to stay it would end in a fight. The two of you had barely spoken as of late which had meant there was no way for it to end in an argument and that was probably for the best. He pushed himself up, giving you one last look, hoping you might change your mind but you didn’t even look up and so he left with his tail between his legs. 

He couldn’t help the way your words were spinning around his head, focused on one thing in particular. Spencer had broken up with you, you and Spencer weren’t together anymore. He’d found out about your history together or maybe you’d finally told him and he’d ended things. If you were single did that mean…no, Luke didn’t want to get ahead of himself, he was dating someone after all. But he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe there was a chance for the two of you after all. 

Now standing outside of the holding cell staring into those eyes you’d spent a countless amount of time looking into, Spencer seemed to look through you. Luke was at your side while Emily was talking to the Mexican cops. 

“Spence?” You croaked out, peering at him through the bars. “Spence, it’s me. It’s Y/N.” 

“And Luke. We’re here, Reid.” Luke spoke up.

Spencer frowned between the two of you before pushing himself up from the bench. He slumped towards the bars, confusion riddled in his features. 

“I know who you are.” He choked out. “And I don’t want to see either of you.” 

“Spencer, we’re here to help.” You sniffed back your tears. 

He ignored you, turning around slowly and shuffling back to the bench, keeping his back to both of you. You sniffed again, wiping a stray tear that had escaped your eye. Out of instinct, Luke wrapped his arm around your waist but you quickly slapped him away. 

“Don’t touch me.” You spat before turning on your heels and fleeing. 

***

It had been one of the longest days of your entire life. Between calls back and forth to the team back at Quantico and the discovery of Nadie Ramos dead body, it had been incredibly draining. It was looking increasingly likely that Spencer was going to be charged with her murder but for now there was nothing that could be done. Matt Simmons from the IRT was supposed to be joining you down in Mexico in the morning and you could only hope he and his team would be able to help free Spencer before charges were filed against him.  

Spencer’s expanded tox results were still pending and the evidence from Nadie’s murder scene were being processed. Emily had insisted the three of you call it night and start fresh in the morning. But of course you wouldn’t get any sleep, not with the images of Spencer in that holding cell in your mind. 

You’d lost count of how many glasses of wine you’d gotten through. Honestly there didn’t seem to be enough alcohol in the world to clear your mind tonight. You knew you needed to be clear headed tomorrow for Spencer, but after that first sip, you couldn’t stop. You kept telling yourself this was your last glass, trying to force yourself to leave, when someone slipped into the seat opposite you in the corner booth of the hotel bar. You would have thought he’d have more sense than to seek you out, apparently you were wrong. 

“How are you doing?” His voice was lower than usual, croaky like he hadn’t slept a wink in weeks. 

“I was better before you sat down.” You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your wine. 

“Stop this, Y/N. Stop with the hostility for five minutes, please?”  

“You want me to stop being hostile? Me? When the last thing you said to me that wasn’t about a case was I can’t believe I ever thought I loved you? And you want me not to be hostile?” Honestly it wasn’t until that moment you really let yourself feel how much those words hurt you. It must have been the alcohol. 

Luke instantly softened, sighing and running his hands over his stubble. 

“I didn’t mean that. I was angry.” He spoke, barely above a whisper. 

“You still said it. And it hurt, ok?” You distracted yourself by sipping from your glass. 

“I’m sorry.” He sighed again. “You know it wasn’t true. You know how I felt about you. How I feel about you.” 

“Don’t, don’t do that.” You shook your head.

“Do what?” He frowned as you finished your wine and got to your feet. 

“Don’t you dare sit there and make big sweeping confessions you can’t take back.” You went to leave but as expected Luke was faster than you and was quickly grabbing you by the arm. 

“What if I don’t want to take them back? I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel how I feel about you.” He kept hold of you, worried you might try and flee again. 

“You think now is the time?” You spat at him. “Right now? While my ex is in a fucking prison cell facing charges for a crime he didn’t commit. You think now is the time for you to do this?” You shook him off. “Fuck you, Alvez. Fuck you!” 

He grabbed you again, eyes narrowing on you only now realising the slur in your voice, the way you wobbled on your feet.

“How much have you had to drink?” 

“That’s none of your business. Now if you’d kindly stop manhandling me, I’d like to go to bed.” You roughly yanked your arm away from him, a combination of the force in which you moved and the wine causing you to lose your balance. 

You almost went flying into the hard tiled floor, you braced yourself for the impact but it never came. Instead there was a strong set of arms suddenly around your waist, grabbing you before you had a chance to fall face first on the floor. He turned you slowly in his arms, making sure to keep a hold of you. He told himself it was in case you stumbled again but that was only half of the truth. 

“Let me help you upstairs.” He spoke softly, only just resisting the urge to stroke your hair back from your eyes. 

“I don’t need help. Least of all from you.” To your credit, when you weren’t slurring you sounded remarkably sober. But Luke had first hand experience in dealing with you drunk.

“Well that’s too bad.” He kept one arm around your waist and started guiding you towards the elevators. 

You wriggled to try and get free of his hold but the wine had affected your strength and he was able to get you across the room and to the bank of elevators. The last time he’d had to do this was much more dangerous, there was a lot more on the line. At least it couldn’t potentially end your military career this time. 

He called for the elevator and when the doors opened he helped you inside despite you still trying to get free from him. Thankfully he already knew where your room was, he was pretty certain you weren’t going to tell him if he didn’t, and it was conveniently only a few doors down from his own. 

The doors closed and it started to ascend when you finally broke free of his hold and glared at him through wild, alcohol glazed eyes. 

“I hate you, do you know that?” You spat at him. 

“No, Y/N, you don’t hate me.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, yes I do. You show up here and you just fuck everything up. I was happy! I was finally fucking happy and then you just waltz in and turn everything on its head. I blame you for this. I blame you for everything. I hate you Luke Alvez.” 

Luke swirled his tongue around his mouth, poking it against his cheeks the way he did to try and calm a rising anger. But it was no use. He’d reached boiling point and there was no going back. 

“Fuck you.” He suddenly yelled out of nowhere, months or even years worth of pent up emotions finally coming to the surface. “Fuck you, Y/N. You don’t get to blame me for this. You made the decision not to tell Reid about our history, not me. You are the one that wanted to keep secrets. That’s not on me. And don’t fucking stand there telling me you hate me when I have done nothing to you except love you for thirteen damn years! 

You ran away like a goddamn coward because you couldn’t handle your feelings for me. I told you, multiple times, that I wanted to marry you, to spend my life with you and you ran away. But do you want to know the most fucked up part? After everything that’s happened, I would still marry you tomorrow because I love you more than I ever thought it possible to love someone. And I know you don’t hate me, far from it. You love me and you can’t stand that.” 

When you suddenly slapped him hard across the face it was hard to tell who was more surprised. You certainly hadn’t meant to do it, hadn’t even realised you were going to do it until your hand collided with his cheek. Luke groaned at the impact, his hand going up to cradle his face. The look in his eyes was more hurt than you’d ever seen. 

“You don’t know me.” You mumbled. “You don’t know me at all. Go to hell, Alvez.” 

The elevator came to a stop just as you finished your sentence and you were quick to escape as soon as the doors started opening. You stumbled on your feet, swerving down the corridor but you could hear his heavy steps behind you.

“Would you come back here, damnit?” He called from behind. 

“No, leave me alone.” At some point tears had started rolling down your cheeks but you pushed through them, finding your room and trying to frantically locate your key card in your pocket. 

“I’m just trying to help you! Why do you need to make everything so difficult?” 

You found your key but due to the alcohol and the tears constricting your vision you couldn’t get it in the slot. Luke watched you fumbling.

“Ay dios mio.” He mumbled. “Move out of the way.” 

“No.” 

“Move.” He growled. “That is an order, private.” 

Your back went suddenly rigid. It didn’t matter how much time you’d been out of the army, an order like that would always make you stop in your tracks. You swallowed, he couldn’t command you in that way anymore. 

“I am not a private anymore and this isn’t Iraq.” 

Luke exhaled a heavy breath, determined not to lose his cool again. But it happened anyway. He suddenly grabbed you by the biceps and spun you around, pushing you heavily up against the door. 

“Stop this.” He spat. “I am trying to help you!” 

His fingers dug into your arms, probably hard enough to leave bruises. It wouldn’t be the first time, you’d grown adept in covering the marks Luke always used to leave on you. That’s not to say he was violent, it was usually just the result of rough sex and Luke pinning you down. Occasionally he’d lose his cool, like now, sometimes not realising his own strength. But he never deliberately hurt you. 

“You are the last person I want to help me.” Your tears continued to roll down your cheeks. 

Despite your words you still moved aside when Luke let go of you. You were suddenly exhausted, completely drained. You had no fight left in you. You let Luke prize the key card from your hand and open your door. He nodded his head towards it, motioning you inside. You didn’t argue when he followed you in. 

You kicked off your shoes and slumped onto the bed. Luke came closer and stood over you. 

“I don’t want it to be like this, Y/N.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Something has to give. I can’t keep fighting with you, it’s taking too much out of me.” 

“I don’t know if I can work with you, Luke.” You confessed, hanging your head. “I think…I’ve been thinking for a while about leaving the BAU. I think it will be for the best.” 

Luke shook his head, sitting down beside you and placing his hand on your shoulder. 

“Please don’t do that. Not because of me.” 

“I can’t keep seeing you everyday.” You shrugged. “Look at me, Luke, look at what this is doing to me.” 

You looked up at him, your tear filled eyes looked utterly broken. You looked as though you’d aged in the few months he’d been on the team. It was only now he really saw what he’d done to you. And it made his heart shatter. 

“Then I’ll leave. You’ve been with the team a lot longer than me, it’s not fair for you to have to quit. A part of me kinda misses the fugitive task force anyway.” He moved his hand from your shoulder, down across your shoulder blades and settled on your lower back. “But for now we just need to focus on Reid. Once we’ve got him home, I’ll resign.”

“I don’t want you to have to do that.” 

“And I don’t want you to either.” 

Silence stretched out between you and Luke’s arm snaked further around your waist. You flopped your head to the side and rested it against his shoulder. The silence seemed to last forever but it was probably only a few minutes before Luke sighed, helping you sit back up. 

“I should go.” He spoke but he didn’t move. 

“Don’t…please don’t…” You chewed on your bottom lip. “Don’t make me say it.” 

“If you want a favour from me, after all the shit you’ve given me since I joined the team, then the least you can do is say it.” He frowned at you, knowing what you wanted to say but were too scared to.

You clenched your jaw with a sigh, almost too stubborn to say the words. But you needed him right now, more than you’d probably ever needed anyone. So as much as it killed you to say the words, it would be harder not to say them. 

“Please don’t go.” You sniffed, wiping your eyes. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Realistically, Luke knew it was a terrible idea, but practically, he couldn’t refuse such an offer. He nodded his head, pushing himself up to his feet, unsure what to do with himself. Getting in the bed seemed presumptuous, he needed to wait for your cue. 

You stood as well, legs still wobbly from the wine. You swallowed a lump in your throat before walking past him towards your go bag on the chair in the corner. You turned your back on him while you changed but you felt his eyes on you. When you removed your shirt and unhooked your bra he had to physically restrain himself from coming closer to you. But soon you were slipping on an oversized t-shirt, one that almost came down to your knees. Luke knew without seeing the print on the front that it was your old Rangers shirt with the 75th emblazoned over the chest. 

You slipped off your pants, using the length of the shirt to cover yourself although a part of Luke wished you wouldn’t. Once changed you turned back to him, but didn’t look at him, as you crept over to the bed and slid in between the sheets. 

Luke still stood there dumbly, watching you as you rolled onto your side to face him. You looked up at him, tears still hidden behind your eyes but no longer falling, and patted the mattress. 

Luke knew this was a bad idea. Sharing a bed with you would be almost impossible for him to keep his hands to himself. But he tried to focus on the circumstances that brought you here. Spencer was in jail, he needed help. And not to mention, Luke was still dating Lisa. 

He closed his eyes as he started unbuttoning his shirt, not wanting to look at you while he did so. If he wasn’t mistaken, he was sure he heard you suck in a deep breath as he dropped the shirt to the floor. He had to ignore it, instead focusing on getting out of his pants. Once just in his underwear he finally opened his eyes but looked at the bed instead of you. He continued to do so while he crawled onto the mattress and settled onto his back under the sheet. 

“Why won’t you look at me?” You whispered. 

“Because if I look at you,” he sighed. “I will not be able to be held accountable for what I do to you.” 

“Right.” You swallowed. “Fair enough.” 

He felt the bed shift beneath him and he dared to finally glance over at you. You’d rolled over onto your other side, now facing away from him. 

“Is this better?” You mumbled against your pillow. 

“Not really.” He chuckled. “Can I…can I hold you?” 

“I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

Again, Luke knew what a terrible idea it was but he couldn’t help himself. He shuffled closer to you and rolled onto his side. He reached for you but his hand hovered in mid air for a few seconds before he gently laid it on your bicep. He moved closer still, until his front was pressing up against your back. His fingertips grazed down your bare arm until he found your hip and snaked his arm around your waist. 

He was hard, it wasn’t difficult to tell given the way he was flush against you. His breath tickled the back of your neck and occasionally you felt his scratchy stubble brush against your skin. His hand took purchase on your stomach and you entwined your fingers with his holding him in place. He cautiously edged his knee between your thighs. 

“This is dangerous.” He whispered against your neck. “Do you have any idea how turned on I am right now?”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea.” You swallowed thickly. “Are you still with Lisa?”

“Yes.” 

“Then it’s not dangerous. I’m not making that mistake again.” You gave his hand a soft squeeze. 

“But if I wasn’t with Lisa?” He dared ask, as if it made a difference. 

“Trust me when I say you don’t want the answer to that.”   

Your words caused him to hiss and his stubble brushed against your flesh again but it wasn’t quite a kiss. 

“Y/N?” He spoke against your skin. 

“Yes Luke?” 

“What would happen if I broke up with Lisa?” 

You sighed, shuffling somehow closer to him. 

“I don’t know, Luke.” You admitted. “You and I aren’t good for each other.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” He croaked. “You never gave us a chance.” 

“We were volatile at best.” You sighed again. “Our fights, Luke, were explosive. Sure the make ups were pretty good but, fuck, we know how to push each others buttons too well. We were kinda toxic.” 

“I don’t agree.” He shook his head, tightening his hold on your hand. “It was passion, we had passion. Ok, it got a little out of hand sometimes but I’ve never had that kind of passion with someone else.” 

“That’s probably a good thing.” You laughed dryly. “I almost broke your nose once, you remember?” 

“How could I forget?” He chuckled too. 

“That’s not a healthy relationship.” 

“You were drunk if I recall.” 

“And who’s to say the next time I got drunk I wouldn’t have actually broken your nose? Or worse? Luke, I don’t like myself when I’m with you, that’s the hard truth. I can’t put myself through that again. So to answer your question, if you were to break up with Lisa, it wouldn’t change anything. Not for me anyway.” 

Luke sniffed loudly and you felt him nodding his head. 

“I appreciate the honesty.” He sighed. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck to hear though.” 

After that the two of you fell into silence and at some point you both fell asleep, safe from the world in each others arms. 

Next Chapter

Taglist

@carolinesbookworld @wooya1224 @littlebeanwrites @randomrambling @telepathay

[azrielsbabyg]

OMG I saw u were writing for derek and I ABSOLITELY have to see u write about him and a trouble-seeker, "I don't have emotions, emotions have Me!", absolutely dare-devil insane kinda shit reader. Derek would just go insane trying to protect them </3

Let's say they're a lone wolf with no pack, but with how powerful and dangerous they are, it doesn't really matter if they're protected by a pack or not. Derek finds them in beacon hills in some sticky situation and helps them bc "idc but u looked like u were going to get eaten and we can't have that now can we, ur far too pretty" and they get upset at him to have taken away their fun for the night?? So she makes it her job to just annoy the shit out of him and get him riled up for the rest of the evening since he took away their fun..?? tbh probably ends in some hate-fuck sort of smut but he does manage to make them go soft for him<333

Get creative w this one LMAOO

NOTE- I absolutely love this. I don't know if this is what you had in mind but feedback is always appreciated. Hope you like it<33.

PAIRING- Derek x Reader

TROUBLE

DEREK’S POV

This woman would be the death of me. 

I left her alone in the house for 20 fucking minutes and she somehow ends up getting in trouble. I have Scott on the other line, who got a call from Stiles, who told him that he and Y/N got into trouble with Deucalion of all people. And now he is holding them hostage.

I’m not surprised that she and Stiles snuck out. I’m not surprised that she decided to go kill Deucalion. I’m not surprised she fucked up. Whenever I confront her about her actions, all she has to say is- “C’monnnnnn you know I don’t go looking for trouble. Trouble loves finding me. And I can’t turn away something that loves me now can I?”

I get into my car and hit the gas to reach the Alpha Pack before they do something they will regret. After a good 40-minute drive, I see Scott waiting for me to go teach them a lesson. 

“I don’t see anyone from the pack in the main room. Only Y/N and Stiles, but are tied up to two chairs. There is one problem though, I don’t think they mind being tied up.” Scott says to me shrugging.

“What the hell do you mean by that?” don't mind being tied up?? These two I swear-

“They are… laughing…like full-on laughing.” Scott gives me a nervous smile like I’m about to hit him for them laughing. These two bloody delinquents. 

“Let’s get them and get the fuck out of here without one of the Alphas seeing us.” I usher him towards the entrance of the window for us to sneak in. 

Stiles sees us approaching and groans “Great! The party-poopers are here. Watch out Y/N they don’t look happy.” He rolls his eyes at me right before I turn to Y/N. Her bright eyes shine with a mischievous glint and her mouth gives me a shit-eating grin. 

“Hi there Wolfie,” She says with a wink. That fucking nickname. “Come to join the fun?” 

“More like to ruin it,” Scott says flashing the two of them a smile. We untie the two of them and nudge them to the entrance. 

“Wait. We can’t leave just like that.” She says with a sly smirk on her face.

“Y/N whatever you are about to do, don’t.” I scold. 

“Tsk, you’re more fun when you’re drunk…” She says before drawing in a breath. “HEY ALPHAS. EAT AS-” I stop her from yelling more by putting my hand over my mouth. 

“I swear to god Y/N, if you don't get your ass out the window right the fuck now, I will stab you, with my bare hands.” I drag her to the car and sit her in the back seat with Stiles laughing uncontrollably at her side. 

—————

Y/N’S POV

After dropping Stiles and Scott off at their place, I still hadn’t gotten that smile off my face. I always ignore Derek’s warnings, cuz like, why would I listen?? 

Although he gets all angry and pouty after I disobey him like he is getting now. “Derek for god’s sake please don't start.” I huff out in annoyance. 

“Don’t start? What do you mean don’t start? You could’ve possibly died out there Y/N. Do you just never learn from your mistakes? Or do you just have to disobey me? Always?” Derek spits out in a fit of rage. He’s also managed to take a few steps closer and now he is directly in front of me. 

“Oh well, I’m sorry sir. If you have such a problem with me trying to live a little, put me in my place. Or are you too much of a puppy to do that?” I dare him, my face mere inches from his. It would be so easy to just- No. Fuck no. NO NO NO NO NO. This is Derek we are talking about. Getting involved with him would be sooooo not okay. Cuz I know that once will not be enough. I will 100% need more than just that.

“What did you call me?” His voice was a low growl. I almost didn’t hear it. 

“S-Sir?” My voice betrays me at the worst time. Fuck he is blushing. Now seeing him I am blushing. Nooo this can’t be good. “What are y-you gonna do about i-it?” 

He doesn’t answer me in words. Instead, he presses his mouth to mine in a harsh kiss. Oh, sweet mother of Jesus. I melt into his touch. His lips are sooo soft, I could cry. He pulls me by my arm and now I am flush against him. Something hot and wet touches my lower lips and I gasp. The fucker uses this opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth. 

It is just a clash of tongues and teeth as he hooks his hands behind my thighs and hoists me up. My legs wrap around his waist instinctively and I feel him. He is enjoying this way too much. I smile into the kiss at the feeling that he returns. He lays me down on his table and moves his lips to my jaw and neck in slow agonizing kisses. 

He ventures down lower and lower until he is face to face with my heaving chest. He gives one look at my flushed face and when he looks back at my chest he rips the top open. “You asshole! You better be buying me another top.” I whine.

“Don’t worry baby. After this, you’re not going to want to wear much around me.” He smirks against my bra, which he proceeds to rip too. This guy I swear- I was cut off from my thoughts by my own moan. He latches his mouth directly to my nipple while his other hand travels to the other one, flicking it gently. He then proceeds to pinch it and oh my fucking god. 

“Fuck Derek,” I let out multiple breathy moans, his name falling out in every one of them, “Ah shit Derek.”

He leaves my nipple and travels down to my stomach and, well, lower than that. He unbuckles my belt and unbuttons my jeans all while maintaining eye contact with me. As soon as my jeans are off he nuzzles his nose against my centre and breaths a deep breath. The action causes me to shudder.

He pulls my underwear to the side and licks a bold stripe across my folds. My back arches up as he continues the dance with his tongue against my entrance. He chuckles against my clit as I grind my hips against his face, begging to ride it. He trailers one hand up to pin me in place while his other slips across my folds, coating itself in my slick. He slips in two fingers without warning and curls them to hit the spot god only meant to be worshipped. 

He continues to thrust his fingers in my hole while his mouth sucks harshly on my clit. This is so overwhelming but oh so good. “Fuck Derek, right there.” He continues to finger me.

I am so so so close. “Derek- it’s too much, I’m gonna- Ah-” My orgasm hits me like a loaded truck and I moan his name with no absolute shame. 

“That’s it, baby. You look so fucking pretty squirming an thrashing under me. My sweet little girl.” His words do something to me oh god.

He trails kisses back to my face and lands one last kiss on my mouth. This kiss wasn’t like the kiss we started off with. This one was sweet and gentle, almost featherlight. He pushes his tongue into my mouth letting me taste my cum. It tastes even better on his tongue. “I hope you know there is no going back after this.” His voice is gruff and guttural. 

“Good. I don’t wanna go back. You’re way too good at this.” I smile and give him one last kiss. 

He carries me to his bedroom and lays me down on my side. He settles in behind me and wraps one protective arm around me. His heartbeat against my back slowly lulls me into sleep.

“You aren’t that bad Y/N. Just need to stop annoying me so much.” He huffs a laugh against my ear.

“I will look into that some other day. But thanks, I guess?” 

Ugh, he will be the death of me. 

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