#continues to prove he’s a moron

[askthedevicer]

Good morning, what the fuck

[avis-writeshq]

hello 😘 aaron hotchner drabble request!

anything with jealousy and possessiveness but in a natural normal way not a joe goldberg way haha

and also - aaron sees you wearing his hoodie/shirt drabble!

thank you and your work is amazing!

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!fem!reader genre: established relationship, aaron is a little (a lot) upset warnings: misogynistic moron >:( reader wears a skirt, if you get the reference ily a/n: i wrote it and the more i wrote the more i realised that it... really isn't the same at all :( if you want me to redo it, please send me an ask !! thank you lovely <3 wc: 631

“You would think that he would know by now,” Emily hums, her tone disapproving and mostly disappointed as she watches from a distance as Captain Pembroke attempts to chat you up. 

“He’s a captain?” Spencer asks in genuine amazement. 

“For NYPD’s major crime unit,” JJ confirms, her arms crossed over her chest. “He tried to hit on Emily a couple days ago, and on Amy from the fourth floor. I wouldn’t be surprised it he has some sort of sealed file on him.”

Emily scoffs a little, rolling her eyes. “Sounds like a charmer.”

“The bigger question is, does Hotch know?” Derek pipes up as he glances in your direction.

“Well…” JJ lets out a nervous laugh. “I kind of hope he doesn’t.”

You offer a curt smile in Pembroke’s direction, doing everything in your power to subtly signal that you really should be leaving. Fiddling with the loose threads of your shirt, averting eye contact, taking tiny steps away in hopes that he’ll somehow get the message. It isn’t surprising that he doesn’t. 

“I beat my PR yesterday, you know,” he brags, flexing his muscles. You think you’re about to throw up as he continues, “129. Impressive, right, hun?”

“The average amount of pounds an untrained man can lift is 135,” you respond dismissively in an attempt to lean into Spencer’s way of getting people to leave him alone, but Pembroke doesn’t seem to hear you. 

“You know, sweets, I don’t think you should even be in this job. You’re far too foxy,” he says with a wink, “You’d be better in a different job. I mean, women aren’t fit for these types of roles. They get too emotional.”

You refrain from punching his face as it will only prove his point. “Listen, Ken–”

“It’s Keith–”

“Kyle,” you amend with a sickly smile. “I do need to get these files to Agent Rossi, so if you’ll excuse me…”

“Aw, come on, it was only a joke,” Pembroke says with a laugh. “It’ll be fine–”

“There you are.”

You don’t think you’ve ever felt more relieved in your life. Aaron’s hand rests flat against your back, dangerously close to the waistband of your skirt and he stands behind you. Aaron is a good couple of inches taller than Pembroke, especially when he stands at his full height, his dark eyed narrowed and his jaw clenched. 

“Did you need something from my agent, Captain?” He asks lowly. 

“Just pleasant conversation,” Pembroke responds dismissively.

Aaron raises an eyebrow, his gaze shifting from your uncomfortable frown to the captain’s smug face. “We have three missing women and you are disturbing an investigation by disrupting my agents. I suggest you get your act together before I report you to your superiors for harassment.”

He doesn’t bother waiting for a response, guiding you by the small of your back towards his makeshift office in the New York Police Office. He doesn’t say a word until the door is firmly closed and the blinds are drawn. 

“Are you alright?” He asks softly, taking a step towards you and curling his fingers by your cheekbone. “I heard what he said. Do you want me to report it?”

“I’ve dealt with worse.” You don’t mean to sound so honest when you say it and his frown deepens.

“That’s not okay, honey.” Aaron presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll report it. You know how it is with cases like these; someone just has to put the first step forward.”

You smile at that, poking at his cheeks. “I thought you were going to hit him.”

“I thought you would’ve beat me to it,” he admits through a quiet laugh, giving you a proper kiss. “We shouldn’t make this into a habit.”

“Tell that to Kimberly.”

“That isn’t even close.”

reblogs are always appreciated!

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[yanderenightmare]

can we have more yan DEKU who terrorises his exgirlfriend? like, he sends her creepy letters and gifts, without mentioning it's him of course, scaring her straight back into his arms??

Deku - Midoriya Izuku

TW: yandere, hints of dubcon/noncon, size difference, stalker, mental abuse

Green Paisley

You’d felt watched lately, and things were rarely where you remembered putting them. But thinking it was all in your head, you’d ignored it until you received the first gifts and saw the pictures. Eyes peeled while reading the letter with a shaky hand covering your mouth, you dropped everything on the steps to your apartment when quickly reaching for your phone.

I wasn’t going to write you any letters. I was happy just watching because I knew you were already spoken for. But I’ve noticed that the green-haired guy hasn’t come over lately, and I feel so sad knowing you’re home all alone…

You contact the police, but all they tell you is to invest in a new alarm system. After a little crying at the station, they show you enough sympathy to post a squad car in your neighborhood – but all in all, you’d say they didn’t seem very convinced.

That green-haired guy is a fucking moron. If you were mine, I would never let you go. I would take care of you, much better than he ever could. I would give you only the prettiest gifts and call you only the sweetest names. I’d treat you how someone like you deserves to be treated. Keep you safe and sound and happy to be mine…

You read the stalker’s letter again while browsing ways to upgrade your security – your thumb in your mouth, nail bending where you chewed on it – eyes panning over the photos that came in the box. Taken through the window – some innocent enough, candid pictures of you cooking in the kitchen or watching a movie on the couch. 

Others were not so innocent.

Your nail broke between your teeth as you looked at the revealing pics of you in your bedroom – wearing nothing but flimsy underwear. 

You looked back to the screen and continued scrolling through deals – but more than that, you were trying to distract yourself from what you really wanted to do…

Izuku had always been a source of comfort when it came to safety, and you know he’d come if you called, but since you broke up with him only a couple of months ago it seemed too selfish to ask. Besides, the reasons you broke things off were all because of his derogatory tendencies, and to beg him over because of something like this would only prove his point.

You couldn’t call him over. He’d see it as a win, and you’d decided you wouldn’t lose to his patronizing ways any longer. You needed to do this on your own – without his help.

You had to wait through the weekend until Monday to call a guy. A new box came both days, each one more terrifying than the last. But after installing a new alarm system you felt a little safer.

But the next box stripped that safety away.

I know I must be creeping you out. After all, you have no idea who I am, whereas I know you so intimately. But you shouldn’t feel scared. I would never hurt you. My gift to you today is proof of that.

P.S. Security systems aren’t enough to keep me away from you. 

Beneath the letters were more pictures of you – this time sleeping – inside the house. 

You fell apart – caving in, calling Izuku in tears, begging him to come over in a hurry. “Izu- please, please, please come home-”

He’s sitting on your couch only a curt fifteen minutes later, a tight arm around your midriff, holding you close for comfort while you sobbed against his chest – a furl deepened his brows while reading, holding your stalker’s letters in the other hand with green eyes narrowing for every sentence he finished.

I dream of making you mine. As I watch you sleep, I wonder what you dream of. You look so lonely lying there. Maybe if I keep you company, you’ll start dreaming of me too.

“How many of these have you received?” He questioned when done, looking around at the gift wrap on the floor, green-paisley-patterned, and the several boxes filled with crepe and untouched pieces of what looked like different arrangements of lingerie, candy, and sex toys.

“Four, I think…” You muffled against his tear-soaked shirt, clinging to him with your legs tucked onto his lap.

“Four? Why didn’t you call me sooner?” He echoed, looking down at you with heavy curls shadowing his eyes.

You looked up at him through the blur, lip sucked between your teeth before answering. “I- I went to the police-”

“The police? You went to the police instead of calling me?” He cut you off harshly, making you flinch.

“I-I-” You stuttered, crying, and he shook from his misplaced anger and took your face in his palms.

“Shh-sh- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you.” He apologized with a kiss on your forehead before pulling you close to his chest again. “It’s just… this is exactly what I warned you about. You should have called me sooner.”

“I’m sorry.” You whimper, calming down to the warm strokes his large hand smoothed across your back.

“Shh- it's okay… I’m here now… and I'm not gonna let any sicko touch you. I promise.” He soothed – his voice a calm and strong anchor for you to grip onto. “Come, I’ll help you pack a bag. You’ll sleep at my place tonight.”

“Okay…” You sniffle. “Thank you.”

He drove with only one hand on the steering wheel, the other on your lap, holding your hand – your bag by your feet – and you’re reminded of the first days you started dating. Sleepovers and overnight bags – his hand between your thighs on the drive.

His new place is bigger than the last – like something out of a magazine. Modern and simplistic – a little too clean, maybe, but very stylish. 

You knew he’d been climbing the ranks a couple of spots a week since you broke up with him, but you hadn’t known the new paychecks could afford something like this. It made you feel a little guilty thinking about it, then a little embarrassed, causing you to flush – standing there in guest slippers, bag in hand – your presence sticking out like a sore thumb.

“You hungry?” He asked, shaking you out of your meekness, where you looked up with a small nod and a slight hum.

He smiled, turning to the kitchen. You were so cute.

At dinner, it almost feels like old times. Izuku plays with your legs under the table even though you give him a look. He gets you to giggle after a while, surrendering to his hopeless flirting. You help him carry the dishes after you’ve finished – and even though he has a washer now, you slip right into that old routine and start filling the sink with warm water and soap. And then you stand there, the two of you – shoulder to elbow, and your chest flutters, wondering if he was always that tall.

You blushed and ducked your head, not wanting him to see you getting so flustered. You pretended to be throwing some scraps in the trash and that's when your eyes caught hold of it.

Green paisley.

You’re stunned for a moment. Still crouched down, your head hovering over the trash – face blank, body still.

“You weren’t meant to see that.” Came a voice.

Izuku stood next to you. Washcloth in hand, dripping soapsuds on the floor.

You’re breath shivers in your throat, and you drop to the ground with a gulp, looking up at him – now with building fear accenting your still shocked expression.

You blink a couple of times, trying to make sense of it but getting nowhere. “W-why?” Left you then, along with sudden tears that started slipping down your cheeks.

And it really was the only question you had. Why would he do this? Why would he torment you like that? Why would he-

“’Cause you left… And I needed a way to get you back.”

You cringed. Feeling sick – almost sick enough to turn around and throw up the entire dinner in the trashcan, all over that stupid green paisley print. But you didn’t. “You’re pathetic.” – is what you said instead.

You got up from the floor. Upset tears still rolled down your face, but you were mostly just pissed – kicking off your guest slippers, you sat down atop the shoe bench and started doing your laces.

“I’m leaving. Don’t call me. If I ever see you near my place, I’m calling the cops.” You uttered, grabbing your bag before yanking the door handle.

It didn’t budge – some strange new type of locking mechanism, which really made no sense to have on the inside.

“I’m going home, Izuku. Unlock the door.” You huffed, turning around to look at him sourly, only he’d approached you all too silently – making you gasp to see him standing right behind you.

“You’re not going anywhere…”

You’re taken to the bed, kicking and screaming – then pinned by hands thrice the size of your own beneath the big-boned body they belonged to. And now you’re really feeling scared.

Before, it had been such a distant threat – something you could pretend wasn’t there for most of the day and otherwise deal with by the soothing presence of a weapon in your house or a quick phone call to the police. But now – there was no comfort to be found anywhere.

“Shh, baby~ don’t fuss. It’s better this way.” He tried soothing, holding your fighting wrists tightly above your head in one fist. The other kept your lips shut, muffling all screams. Barring your thrashing legs beneath his own. “You need me- you couldn’t even last a single week without calling me.” He justified, hunched over you with his mouth only an inch above the knuckles draping your mouth. “But that’s alright, I don’t mind it. I always planned on taking care of you.” He cooed, rubbing his nose sweetly against yours despite you trying to shake away from it. 

You felt something rub against your thigh, and you knew all too well what it was. Fat tears streamed down your cheeks, facing the next events.

But Izuku shared none of your discomforts, rocking the bump against you with a moan slipping into his rant. “You like the new place I got, don’t you? You can stay in all day- I’d give you all you’d ever need or want- you’d be so comfortable you wouldn’t ever even want to leave-”

He sounded just like the letters.

And where it had ached you to know that he’d been the one to write them all… now it terrified you to understand how he’d meant every last word of it, too.

[theemporium]

Max ready to destroy the earth if someone so much as disrespects or pisses Trouble off

it’s low-key giving will smith🤠anyways thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

Max was always very blunt and honest in conferences and interviews, it was just the way he was.

And it wasn’t uncommon for him to defend himself and his friends in said interviews. He did it countless times when journalists tried to push stories about him being too aggressive, too angry, too competitive on track.

He did it countless times when they would come for Charles and blame he was taking for his team’s mistakes. He did it countless times when people questioned Daniel’s performance and his right to have the Red Bull seat. He did it countless times when they tried to drag Lando for not achieving highly when McLaren weren’t giving him the car he needed to be proving he could do as much.

And he would be damned if he didn’t do it for you too.

It was after a race. He was tired, exhausted even, and all he wanted to do was wrap up the rest of his duties so he could maybe sneak a nap in with you before you both joined the rest of the team for a night out to celebrate his win.

He was approaching the last interviewers, a name he vaguely recognised and his nose scrunched up when he remembered most of the man’s questions were tasteless and dry. But he shrugged it off, keeping a passive face as he approached the journalist with his PR manager lingering behind him with a tape recorder in hand.

“Max Verstappen, how does it feel to be a winner again?”

He gave the man a tight-lipped smile and hoped it was enough to hide his exhaustion as he continued the interview.

And it was going fine, in retrospect. The man’s questions were similar to the countless ones he had been asked before. But he couldn’t complain because they were easy to answer, and easy to mostly zone out until he knew he had to answer.

Until he asked something that caught Max’s attention right away.

“Any plans to celebrate with your side piece after your race win? Maybe get her on her knees?”

Max blinked, and for a short moment he wondered if he just completely mistranslated what the man said.

“What?”

But the man repeated the question again, a slimy smirk on his face and your name was rolling off his tongue. And truthfully, Max didn’t even remember moving or reacting or even breathing in that moment.

One second the man was holding a microphone to his face, awaiting his answer. And the next, he was on the floor as he clutched his bloody nose and screamed Bloody Mary.

He was vaguely aware of other drivers and journalists and PR managers looking over, trying to understand the scene in front of them. He was vaguely aware of security being called and someone mentioning Christian or Helmut. He was vaguely aware of someone trying to tug him back, but he just shrugged them off.

“She’s my girlfriend, you moronic dickhead,” Max spat at the crying journalist. “Put some fucking respect on her name.”

“Alright, let’s go before you break any more noses,” he heard Daniel mutter behind him, and this time he let himself be pulled back.

But then his eyes caught the wide, scared gaze of the cameraman who was recording the whole thing, and he glared. “I hope that bullshit was live. Because next time, I’m breaking more than a fucking nose if anyone ever disrespects her again.”

Despite the commotion being sudden, news spread very quickly around the paddock so it was no surprise to Max that you knew by the time he made it to his driver’s room.

“Playing the knight in shining armour now, huh?” You teased as he entered, still sprawled on the couch without a bother in the world.

“He deserved it,” Max stated simply as he made his way towards you. No matter what happened, no matter what put him in a shitty mood, just being near you always helped.

“He did,” you hummed as you opened your arms and let your boy settle on top of you, his face pressed into the crook of your neck. “Thank you for defending me.”

“Always, Trouble,” he murmured in reply.

A few beats passed.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind seeing you do it again,” you said, trying to keep your voice as casual as possible as you ran your fingers through his hair. “It was kinda hot.”

You could feel his smirk against your neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Max lifted his head, his eyes a little darker and his mood significantly different to when he entered minutes ago. “Hot enough for me to fuck you over this couch?”

“Hot enough for you to have me any way you want me,” you confessed, your words a little breathier than usual as you felt his hands graze down your side.

Max’s smile was almost sadistic. “Bend over the couch, Trouble.”

.

[chaostroberry1]

I need a part 2 of Beelzebub x Arché! Reader. What if the gods held a court meeting to see the potential danger of the reader and Odin's goals. When Odin wants to evade the assumptions of the people in the congregation (or even to the point of telling the reader to kill everyone there), the reader instead says that he does not want to destroy the people of gods or humans because he plans to marry Beelzebub.

Or showing how he REALLY loves Beelzebub by fuckin him shamelessly infront of them all.

Tyy pookie!! ^⁠_⁠^

Bro I love this😭 primordial god reader is mad interesting.

Beelzebub × Dom!male!primordial god!reader

....

All eyes were on you, as you as you feasted on food, ignoring everyone's prying eyes. Man, food has really became tastier huh? It's been so long since you've eaten like this. Beelzebub just sat there uncomfortably, glancing at you a few times before returning his eyes down.

Everyone was suspicious of Odin, if anything bad was included in his plans that could potentially lead to the destruction of the gods, everyone knew they had to stop him.

Odin was obviously aware that there were too many of the strongest gods there, capable of ganging up on his ass. But, he knew that none of them combined, could leave a single scratch on you. But look at you over there, moronic and stupidly eating food without a care about giving respect. Hey, to your defense, you were alive before zues, and possible as old as the other primordials.

it should be THEM to pay their respects to you. But it was a little difficult to believe that you were older, looking at how young you acted. like a matured/(not really) matured young adult who probably eats pizza slices for dinner.

"Hey, old man. Are you sure you ain't up to anything suspicious? Things don't seem very 'normal' to me." Shiva spoke, two of his arms on his head while having his other two arms crossed. Odin closed his eyes, starting to get irritated, wanting to avoid anyone's assumptions and suspicions of his plans.

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"then what about the guy sitting in this room right now? Doesn't seem to me like he's anyone you'd just walk by." Loki teasingly joked, knowing he'd get on the old man's nerves. "I agree, seeing a primordial god...isn't something you'd just see out of the blue" Thor spoke, everyone gathering their assumptions and ideas for the so called "all-realm-altering god".

Finally, Odin's last nerve popped, before he slowly spoke. "(M/n), if you want to prove to them that you are really so powerful, why don't you just kill everyone here?"

Everyone's eyes popped open, immediately turning their heads to you, who stopped chewing, your eyes slowly darting up to meet their gazes.

"No."

"what do you mean 'no'? You don't plan on killing all the gods and ruling over all realms?"

"Its not that I can't. I'm simply uninterested." With one more chew, you continued "I plan to marry Beelzebub." And with that statement, everyone was speechless. Zues chuckling while Loki grinned, "my my, I didn't know that even an all powerful deity would be interested in such.. matters~"

"ooh! Ooh! I have a question! How strong are primordial gods? Can we fight? Please please please??" A hyper, dog like god spoke. His name was...Anubis? Right, that's his name. He's quite energetic, you only chuckled and shook your head. "No, not right now. Once I settle in, I'll give you a good fight, okay buddy?" He whimpered sadly at your response, sitting down with a huge frown.

Then, you suddenly got serious as you looked back to the others.

"now, speaking of our marriage. If any of you try to interfere with my plans, it will end in bloodshed. Every single one of you will have their heads displayed on a shelf. Do not test me."

That statement was enough to make everyone feel dread. They knew that no matter how strong or respected they were, they can not lay anything on you. You were far more than just powerful. An unmeasured type of power that many seeked to have, but could never get.

Your hands trailed onto Beelzebub's face, giving him a heated kiss, and a beast like grin. His pretty face was a huge turn on.

you felt lust grow when you eyed Beelzebub, before standing up and bending him over. Everyone's mouth dropped when you started brutally fucking him at an intense speed, as he just took it, whining and crying for you. His legs spread wide open, his hole already very agape, which was proof of your cock inside of him a little while ago before the meeting.

"still so wide and pretty for me..."

Everyone present just decided to leave, knowing that they couldn't utter a word in your presence. Beelzebubs moans the only thing that could be heard in the room while you put him in multiple positions.

Odin sighed, deciding that he'd just have to talk to you some other time. For now, everyone should just leave you to the poor god, who was bended over and now covered in kisses and hickies. Your wife, male wife, as you'd like to call it.

When I tell you all of Valhalla shook from the force and speed of your pounding, I mean it.

You couldn't wait for the marriage, you'd fuck him in front of everyone after you'd seal your kiss, and that was a mental note you made sure to remember. You wer gonna show everyone who your territory was. And how they couldn't do a thing about it. Man, he'd look so pretty in a wedding dress.

You couldn't wait.

[lordprettyflackotara]

affection || Sam Golbach || the finale

smut, 18+, minors dni, tw: sad sammy & reader, happy unrealistic ending ;)

Colby Brock was not the moron he presented himself to be.

He was well aware of the fact that people underestimated him, whether it be other creators, haters, stans, or even his friends.

Colby knew that he was known for being a silly goofball ghost hunter on the internet and with that came the unfortunate reality of never being taken serious.

The only person who he knew for a fact that would never think of him that way was his best friend, Sam Golbach.

That was until Sam started fooling around with you being Colby’s back.

Colby knew he should’ve been pissed, the mere principle of Sam sneaking around with you, his ex girlfriend, a significant sign of disrespect.

After all, he would never look at Kat that way.

So why would Sam look at you that way?

That’s when he decided to start watching more closely.

Sam Golbach was not nearly as slick as he thought he was.

When he started coming and going at odd times, Colby in truth did assume he was going on his late night runs.

At first.

That was until he started noticing how different Sam was behaving.

How his eyes glossed over whenever Colby would talk to him. How secretive and quiet he became when the discussion of women came up. Or how he refused to show Colby his phone, even to show him something as simple as a photo he took.

Colby recognized the scent of your vanilla perfume, even if you both were long broken up. It was your signature scent, and Sam started coming home reeking of it.

Which Colby wouldn’t notice, if he didn’t do the houses laundry.

Colby felt like he was growing crazy, Sam’s behavior becoming more and more drastically different.

So he started following him.

It wasn’t Colby’s proudest moment, but he was glad he did. He watched Sam buy flowers for you. Colby had no idea where you moved to after he broke up with you, but he knew you lived in an apartment near your University. Colby watched from a far as Sam came and went from a certain apartment complex with hideous brown paint on its residents doors.

He never saw you. He just couldn’t prove in any logical sense that Sam was sneaking around with you. That out of all people on the face of the planet, Sam chose his ex girlfriend.

So Colby decided to test the waters. He waited for Sam to come home one night, pushing himself into exhaustion. He decided to continue watching Shameless, spending most of the night racking his brain for a reason as to why he was up.

For a bit, Colby wasn’t even sure Sam would be coming home. He didn’t usually spend the night with you, but maybe this time he would.

Relief flushed over Colby as he heard the front door unlock.

Colby had known Sam since they were practically kids, and he recognized guilt washing over Sam’s face.

That’s when he knew.

But that wasn’t enough for Colby.

The next time Sam began to head over to your apartment, Colby followed him again. A part of him felt like a creep, stalking his best friends whereabouts. He watched Sam awkwardly stand in front of your apartment door, lost in thought as he blankly stared at the shitty brown paint.

Colby contemplated intervening right then and there.

That was, until he saw you.

You looked so much better than the last time he saw you. Your hair had grown out, your hips swaying as you hauled over your groceries to your apartment.

Colby didn’t want to be right.

He watched as Sam rushed over and helped you carry in your groceries.

Colby wasn’t a moron, but he was indecisive.

How should he handle this? He wasn’t upset about your break up anymore. Colby didn’t care that you were seeing other people, but why did that person have to be Sam? Was it just meaningless sex? How long had this been going on?

Colby was on his feet before he could stop himself. He stood in front of your front door, where he could faintly hear shuffling.

Knock knock.

The sound of your voice was all Colby needed to hear. He didn’t want Sam to know that he knew just yet, deciding to throw in the bullshit about Kat and missing you. He didn’t resent you, but he had just moved on.

When Sam returned home later that afternoon, he looked like a wounded puppy. Colby could tell he had been crying, his face tomato red and eyes still watery.

“Hey man you alright?” Colby asked cautiously. He rushed around the kitchen counter, grabbing Sam by his shoulders. He tried to meet his gaze, the blondes eyes focused on the floor.

Sam did it all for Colby. There was no sense in telling him now, he had called it off with you. He had chosen Colby over you, even if he hadn’t wanted to.

“Fine,” Sam mumbled. Colby tried to get an answer out of Sam, even if it was a lie.

“Dude you can tell me whatever it is, we’re Sam and Colby for a reason,” Colby offered. Sam briefly met his gaze, the genuine look of sadness engulfing his blue orbs.

“Not this time brother, not this time,”

Colby knew he had to fix this.

Sam’s tears made it apparent to Colby that Sam’s affair with you was far beyond just mindless sex.

Colby knew how upset Kat and his breakup had made him. He didn’t want to see him go through that all over again. You couldn’t just call this off with Sam. Not after Sam was willing to sacrifice his friendship with Colby for you.

The next day Colby made his way over to your apartment. He parked quickly, practically throwing himself out of the car. His eyes darted to your little pastel yellow bug car, boxes filling the backseat.

Oh shit.

Colby picked up the pace, sprinting over to your apartment.

He pounded on the front door, his adrenaline causing him to nearly run in place.

You opened the door hesitantly, bags hanging from under your eyes. You were a completely different person than the one Colby had seen yesterday, your face completely drained of any color. Your skin was pale, your eyes puffy, your lips cracked.

You looked like you hadn’t slept, an oversized t shirt covering your frail body.

“Now’s not a good time Colby,” You say automatically, unfazed by his unexpected presence. Colby stared down at you for a moment, blinking before responding.

“Listen to me, you can’t do this to Sam. He’s a fucking wreck,” Colby said. He pushed past you into your apartment, noticing the lack of furniture or decorations. “And you’re moving away? You’re willing to give up your entire life just to get away from him? He’s not a bad guy,” Colby argued. You stared at him blankly, dumbfounded as to why he was acting this way.

“You really are a moron. I didn’t breakup with him. He broke up with me,” You interjected. You crossed your arms, glaring at him. “So tell me Brock what exactly happened to you wanting to get back together? Did you want to two time your best friend to get back at him? I’ll tell you now i’m not a fucking toy and i won’t be apart of some scheme-” You began rambling. Colby put up his hand, signaling you to pause.

“If I wanted to seek out some weird fucking revenge, you would not be my pick of the litter, trust me,” Colby stated clearly. Your kitchen counters were squeaky clean, bare of any signs you lived there. “So then what do you want? He called this off, not me,” You replied flatly. Colby’s snarky attitude reminded you of your old relationship, the bitterness beginning to reappear.

Colby ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated. “Why would he call this affair off? After this whole time?” Colby questioned. Your hair was admittedly tangled, thrown back in a sloppy ponytail that didn’t flatter your features. You tilted your head to the side, staring curiously at the brunette you had so heavily avoided all this time.

“Once again, you’re a moron. He called it off because of you.”

“Because of me? He clearly wasn’t thinking of me when he was fucking your brains out,” Colby answered dryly. You let out a stale laugh, your bottom lip cracking slightly. “What’s so funny?” Colby questioned, becoming more frustrated by the minute. Sam was willing to sacrifice his entire career and friendship with him, just for you.

“Sam called off an almost year long affair for you. All we ever felt was guilty. I’m in love with him and that wasn’t enough to stop him from leaving. All because he cares about you,” You answered honestly. You cleared your throat, watching Colby’s mind slowly process your words. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish packing,” You say. You brushed past Colby harshly, hitting his shoulder.

The brunette watched as you grabbed a box from behind him.

“Are you really going to leave town over this?”

You gave him an icy glare, one that would’ve killed him if looks could kill.

“I didn’t stay in this shitty town for this shitty college. I stayed for Sam,” You spat. Colby’s face fell, realizing his original theory of you staying with hope to get back together with him was all wrong.

“You can’t do this, you can’t abandon him like this,” Colby argued. He grabbed your arm, causing your eyes to narrow. You shoved him off, your ex boyfriend not wanting to cause you physical harm.

“Sam should know all about abandoning people, since that’s what he’s already done,”

Sam was a train fucking wreck.

Not only was Colby not answering his calls, but you had blocked his number. He tried to send you a text about something he left at your apartment, the message not sending.

It was early in the morning when Sam decided to tell Colby. He went to his best friends room, only to find it completely empty. Sam then blew up Colby’s phone, trying to seem nonchalant as he asked him where he was. His questioning made him seem like a guilty train wreck. Sam was sure Colby had somehow found out, and was planning on abandoning Sam all together.

Sam couldn’t sleep, his eyes bloodshot from staying up like an insomniac. He couldn’t face Colby when he came home, the blonde hiding in the safety of his comforter. He locked his bedroom door, deciding hiding from his issues would be the proper form of solitude to tend to his wounds.

It was Colby’s loud voice that awoke him from a light slumber.

“Sam fucking Golbach!”

Sam’s blood ran cold, his eyes popping open.

“Go away Colby, I feel bad enough,” Sam replied. Colby continued to pound on the door, causing Sam’s body to stiffen.

“I’m not pissed dude! Y/n is moving out of this state if you don’t stop her!” Colby yelled. This caused Sam to sit up, before quickly rushing over to his bedroom door. He hesitantly opened the door and peered up at his best friend.

“Y/n is moving out of the state?”

“Yes dude. She only stayed here for you,”

Colby didn’t look angry, as far as Sam could tell. Maybe a little stressed, but not as livid as Sam would’ve predicted he would be.

“And you’re not mad at me?”

“Am I a little bit annoyed you chose my ex to fall in love with? Absolutely. Do we have time to discuss this right now? No,”

Sam raised his eyebrows, giving Colby a puzzled look. Colby threw his hands up in the air, as if the answer was obvious.

“Y/n is moving out of the state today. Go fucking stop her! You have my blessing! Go!”

You had just finished placing your last suitcase in your car, pushing down on your trunk so that everything would fit. Your aunt was gracious enough to allow you to stay with her temporarily while you settled into your new school. You headed back over to your apartment, cringing at the shit colored door.

How did you ever agree to move into an apartment like this?

You looked around, ensuring everything was squeaky clean and empty. The furniture was easy to get rid of or donate, both of which you deemed to be quick and reasonable options. You walked down your small hallway, examining the bare walls.

You held your arms, ensuring no holes from nails were visible.

“Y/n!” Sam called out. He rushed into your apartment, quietly thanking whatever higher power existed you left it unlocked. He slammed the door shut behind him, hope flooding him with energy. You raised your eyebrows, turning your direction to see Sam.

You gritted your teeth. Was your apartment a fucking meet and greet today?

“What do you want Sam? I-” Your protest were cut off by Sam’s lips meshing against yours. He knocked the air out of you, your body tensing under his. You pushed at his chest, staring up at him. “Listen i’m not some fucktoy that you can use one last time-” You began arguing. Sam’s soft hands cupped your small face, his eyes boring down into yours.

“I love you,” Sam admitted. He urgently kissed you again, your body turning into putty under his touch. He pressed you against the hallway wall, his hands snaking under your shirt. He pulled away from your lips, kissing down the side of your neck. “I should’ve told you that yesterday. I fucking love you,” Sam grunted, pleasantly surprised that you were wearing no bra. He tugged at your nipples, that hardened quickly under the stimulation.

“Sam i’m gross I can’t-” You began, before Sam glanced around. His eyes landed on your bathroom door, a devious smirk spreading across his lips.

“Care for a shower then?”

The water was turned on and you both stripped your clothes in a blur.

Neither of you waited for the water to warm up, both of you too eager to feel one another. The cold water caused your nipples to harden even more, your body feeling like it was engulfed in flames as Sam kissed you. You shivered underneath the cold water, the water droplets causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. “It’s fucking freezing,” You whispered, Sam’s lips hot and heavy against yours. Sam chuckled as he pinched at your hardened nipples. “Let me warm you up,” He purred. His hands traveled every inch of your body, exploring and caressing your soft skin. “I’m so sorry,” Sam mumbled in between kisses.

His addiction to you was back in full swing, and his guilt had now been kicked out of the car of his mind. Sam brought his lips back to your neck, sucking harshly at the skin. You groaned as the water grew warmer, dripping down both of your bodies. He sucked at your sweet spots, littering your neck with hickies that would last at least a few days. “I’m never gonna go anywhere. Ever again,” Sam grunted. He snaked his fingers down to your aching cunt, teasingly sliding them up and down your folds.

“You belong to me. Officially. You’re mine,” Sam told you. You whimpered as he drew lazy circles around your clit, your walls clenching around nothing. “All yours Sammy. Forever yours,” You panted. Steam began to cloud the bathroom air, your vision becoming hazy as Sam sped up his abuse on your clit. “That’s my girl,” The blonde praised. He used his other hand to twist and toy with your stimulated nipples, earning hearty moans from you.

“I’m going to ruin this cunt every single night. Youre close already? You fuckin whore,” Sam purred, watching in delight as your brain slowly turned to mush. Your eyes began to roll back, his fingers assaulting your clit. “Sam i’m gonna cum, fucking, fuck, i’m gonna cum,” You mewled. Your hands began to cling onto his back for support, your nails scratching down his skin. “Thats it baby, mark me. I’m yours,” Sam groaned. His cock was poking your inner thigh, but the blondes full attention was on you.

You were so close, your body teetering on the edge of ecstasy. Sam smirked down at you, pleased at you unintentionally waiting for his permission to cum. “Cum for me baby,” Sam purred.

Sam could feel your nails digging into his skin as you came, the pain immediately subsiding from the hot water. He watched you come down from your high, your body shaking as your vision slowly settled.

You pulled him in for a savory kiss, your hand slithering down to his length. You began to jerk his cock, his length twitching in your hands. Sam knew that if you continued he’d cum too quickly, his body yearning for yours. “Turn around slut,” He ordered into the kiss, guiding your hips to obey him.

You turned around, facing the white shower wall.

“Hands, babygirl,”

You slowly put your hands behind your back, Sam’s large one holding them together. “Such a good whore for me,” Sam praised, giving your shoulder a few kisses. He brushed the tip of his cock up and down your folds, groans escaping both of you from the pleasurable sensation. “Please Sam, I need you,” You whined, your core aching in desire.

And who was Sam to deny you of your needs?

He shoved himself into you quickly, careful to allow you to cockwarm him for a moment so you could adjust.

He used his spare hand to slither around to your throat, squeezing it gently. “You feel so good around my cock,” Sam groaned. You pushed your hips back against his, letting Sam know you were ready. Sam bucked his hips slow at first, gripping your neck as he slid in and out of you.

Through the foggy steam he watched your ass bounce against him, the sight only making him harder. He began to pick up the pace, your moans echoing off of the small bathroom walls.

Sam began picking up the pace, slamming his hips into yours brutally. His cock abusing your cervix. He tightened his hand around your throat, your airways becoming restricted. You moaned his name, your breast bouncing as Sam thrust inside of you.

“You’re all mine,” Sam groaned, smacking your ass harshly. The electric shock sent a shiver up your spine, the sharp pain mixing together with the pleasure Sam was providing. Sam allowed you to breathe removing his hand from your throat, tightening his grip on maintaining your hands behind your back.

His hand traveled down to your clit, his slender fingers rubbing the overstimulated bud. “Shit,” You slurred, becoming drunk off of the pleasure. Sam smirked at your response, placing sloppy open mouthed kisses on your shoulder. Sam drew faster circles, grinning devilishly as your walls squeezed him.

“You like that don’t you slut? I can feel you milking my cock,” Sam teased. You babbled a hardly coherent agreement as you whined against his cock, his name a mantra escaping your lips. The cord inside of you was threatening to snap again, your legs shaking. “Oh my fucking God- fuck Sammy, I can’t-” You cried, your orgasm violently crashing over you. Your legs nearly buckled, the lack of access to your hands causing you to almost fall. Sam grabbed your waist quickly, releasing your hands and keeping you upright.

“I got you baby, you’re doing so good for me,” Sam praised. He slipped out of you, wanting to give you a moment to breathe. You panted as you brushed your wet hair out of your face. You quickly turned around, sinking onto your knees. Sam couldn’t contain his groans as you took him in your mouth. “Oh y/n,” He mewled, his hand flying to your tangled wet hair. You took his further down your throat, bobbing your head on his cock.

You forced your jaw to go slack, allowing Sam’s girthy cock to sink lower into your throat. You gagged slightly as he hit the back of your throat, drool dripping down the sides of your mouth. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” Sam smirked. You licked the underside of his shaft, causing his hips to stutter. “Please keep going,” Sam whispered, the submissive plea leaving his lips unintentionally. If you could, you would’ve smiled.

You began deep throating him, the blondes head thrown back in pleasure. You used one hand to balance yourself against his thigh while the other massaged his balls. The shower water began to lose its warmth, cool water droplets trailing down Sam’s body and your face. You forced yourself to the base of his cock, your nose nuzzled in his blonde curls.

“Fuck, right there, i’m cumming,”

His warm seed came out quickly, spray painting your throat. You gagged, trying to swallow his cum as quickly as possible. Sam slowly pulled out of you, watching as you gulped down his cum. You stuck out your tongue at him, proudly showing him you swallowed his seed whole.

As Sam grinned down at you, a certain feeling of content washed over him.

He would be able to be with you.

Now and forever.

[stuck-writing-sickos]

In Poor Taste [p9.5]

(Yandere × Reader)

Series Link

[Warning: violence, explicit language]

(A/N: being physically ill from stress is something i am VERY aware of. At the same time, somehow everytime it happens i get so offended. Like "what do you MEAN it happens to me, too")

Antonement comes in many form, none of which you get to choose.

Yuki didn't realize that he inherited his father's temper.

Sure, he would fight when he was a schoolboy. They all did. But he grew out of it quick, since something about a fight outside of school uniform felt pathetic and juvenile. He liked to tell himself that he was too much of a man to throw kicks and punches, so he always stepped down and let other men win in arguments. He didn't care if he was called a wimp or a coward. After all, he had nothing to prove. He wouldn't be like his father who sought to dominate with violence. He was better than that.

Until he wasn't.

You were wet from head to toe, and so was Lukas who was hanging onto your legs, pale fingers turning red from the grip. The man's nails were digging into your skin as he cried so hard, he choked on air. Yuki couldn't think straight. He took in a breath and closed the door behind him.

You looked exhausted and disgusted, trying to kick Lukas off. Yuki had to give the moron that he was persistent:  you were strong, but his desperation was somehow even stronger.

Squatting down to Lukas' level, Yuki tried his hardest to remain calm when he asked "what's wrong with you, Lukas?"

Lukas' face creeped him out. His lips were pulled into a strange smile, as if he was enjoying your distaste. Between tears and the dampness of rainwater, his green eyes were wide and thirsty, fixed on you while he craned his neck to get a better look. His pained sobs couldn't conceal well a low, excited chuckle he emitted with every kick he took from you. Yuki felt like he was watching a worm squirm inside an aquarium. He remembered during the experiment, his teacher had taught him that worms breathe through their skin, so they needed to keep themselves in moist dirt.

Something about the way Lukas is taking in your kicks so pleasurably reminded him of that trivia.

Grabbing him by the back of his collar, Yuki peeled him off of your leg and threw him on the floor. Getting atop of him, Yuki raised his fist and landed it on his stomach.

Lukas's body jolted upon the impact. His face soured into a frown as he returned the favor by punching Yuki square in the jaw. His hands took ahold of Yuki's hair as he held him back.

"Stay out of it, man", he bitterly spoke, "you've always been such a bother."

Yuki didn't expect this kind of strength from someone who had just been crawling to your feet a couple minutes ago. Still, his head may be in a lock, but his hands were free enough. Deciding that words wouldn't do justice, he wrap his fingers around Lukas' neck and forced him down. He felt his grip on his hair loosen when Lukas choked, trying to gasp for air, his hands now clawing at Yuki's skin. He was survival mode now, Yuki supposed, making notes to restrain his torso with his knees in case he get any burst of energy.

When he saw Lukas' eyes roll back, Yuki felt him shoulders being pulled backward forecefully.

Snapping out of it, Yuki released his hold and let Lukas lie on the floor, heaving from the shock. He wondered what he needed to do. What if this foreigner pressed charge? Maybe if he finished the job now...

"Lukas...", your voice were cold and weary, "can you hear me? Can you still speak?"

He nodded. Yuki's nose scrunched at the way his eyes got big and soft when he looked at you.

You kneeled down next to him, your face void of any emotions.

"I didn't want this to happen."

"No, it's okay", he shook his head and propped himself on his elbow, his voice hoarse and meek, "it's okay. You were right... I had too much to drink. I'm so, so sorry."

Yuki did not buy it. Lukas looked sober, and he sounded it, too.

"I didn't want to hurt you", he continued, lying through his teeth, "I was carried away. I just... I never figured out how to approach you, and I fucked up. I deserved this, I really did."

For a split of a second, his eyes met Yuki's when he spoke again: "It's no one's fault but my own, really."

You were silent, watching every movement in the room. It would be like you to stay cautious. Perhaps you were suspicious still, unsure what Lukas may do or say. He might seem earnest, but Yuki could tell the man's existence in itself was a farce.

"But it isn't a good look, is it? You were right... with all this bruises and the tussling, do you think they would talk?"- Lukas continued, feigned cluelessness splattering over his demeanor. Yuki felt his tongue souring upon that.

"What should I say?" - you spoke slowly, your voice calm but your eyes nervous- "that you cornered me and tried to force yourself on me? What I did was self-defense, what you did was assault. Would that look good on you?"

"No, it wouldn't. You'd come out spotless, and I the creep. But what about Sakamoto? Would he ride that clean boat with you?"

[finniestoncrane]

mm I’m haunted by so many visions. When. When Egon Splenger. Makes that joke. The penis joke. And he has that smile. That look. With the bookcase behind him. TUMBLR USER FINNIESTONECRANE! I have NEVER felt such a STRONG urge to shove a man against a bookcase. He just. I. When he. When. Just like. He. When. Mm.

Egon Spengler x Fem!Reader, word count: 1.6k anon you and me both i cant express to you how badly that scene made me want him and i wanted him pretty fuckin badly before that lmao BUT here's some reader who is actually able to prove his theory that the chicks dig his epididymus moore so👻 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: oral sex, flirting, handjob, good old fashioned ball gargling

"Studious, dedicated. Intelligent beyond need for the work I'd require you to do... Why do you want this position?"

You remembered the moment well. The interview with Egon that landed you the job in his research team. You'd fumbled over the words at first, your entire academic career flashing before your eyes. Ever since you had first seen him in those silly commercials, then watched him as he saved the world and went back to the field for his work, you'd wanted him. The opportunity to work with him was something you had waited your life for. And you thought you had ruined it in the moment.

"I'm a huge fan, Doctor Spengler."

Nothing about your academic achievements, your interest in this particular study, or any of his previous ones. No, you'd muttered a ridiculous statement with no substance that made you seem like a childish moron.

But Egon had raised an eyebrow, a smile raising on one side of his mouth in a knowing look. Almost flirtatious, definitely something behind it.

That's how your relationship had continued, the tension only building each passing day as you worked together late into the evenings and often on weekends, each others' only point of contact for days on end.

Nothing had ever come of it, though, past suggestive remarks and lingering touches, looks that felt like they lasted for minutes. You wondered if you were both far too shy to confront it, or if he felt it would push the boundaries of professionalism.

Either way, you harboured the crush still, and spent your days making sure you worked to his expectations, living to please him in at least one of the ways you wanted to. It was that level of concentration that meant you hadn't noticed when Egon's old colleague, Doctor Venkman, had entered the lab. At least not until he had begun making loud remarks and crude jokes, intended to be at the expense of Egon.

"Bet those science chicks really dig that big cranium of yours."

With a quick glance in your direction, Egon caught your eye. You looked away, trying to pretend that you weren't staring at him, but it was obvious he had caught you. And with a growing grin, he looked back to Venkman.

"I think they're more interested in my epididymis."

You blushed immediately, understanding the joke a lot faster than Venkman, who might not have gotten it at all. Trying to hide the reddening of your cheeks, you buried your face in your paperwork and didn't even bother to look up as Venkman said goodbye and left the lab. You only looked up when Egon cleared his throat, catching him just as he turned his back to you and continued filing through the paperwork and medical books lined up on the shelves in front of him.

That was a giveaway, a hint, securing the possibility in your mind. Egon had been talking about you. The joke, a reference to your clear interest in him, a sly but subtle nod at the unspoken attraction, an inside joke between you and him in front of his friend. The way he had looked at you, the way he always did. It was difficult to deny it. So you took matters into your own hands, a little bit sick of waiting for him to make the first move. You'd applied to the job, you'd complimented him first, you began the surreptitious flirting. You might as well be the one that started this too.

"Doctor Spengler..."

You spoke from the other side of the room, only beginning to walk towards him when he had turned away from the bookshelves and was paying attention to you.

"... do you have any evidence to that theory that you proposed?"

"Which theory?"

"The one about your... cranium, verses other aspects of your anatomy.

As you approached him, he smiled to you, a knowing grin that spoke volumes.

"I've observed a fair amount of evidence to support it, actually."

He turned from you again, filing the last of the files he held in his hands as he continued.

"Although, I suppose for it to be concrete, I would require some quantifiable data. An example that could-"

As he turned once more, he found you right in front of him, reaching your hand out to cup the front of his dark grey, woollen slacks. You stroked down the quickly stiffening length, letting your fingers reach further, teasing at his balls. Leaning into him, you pushed his back against the book case, watching as his eyes widened, his smile grew brighter, and his cheeks began to darken.

"Would this be sufficient evidence?"

Egon's voice shook on the first word, but he managed to compose himself.

"P-perhaps. Although, it wouldn't be much to write about in an academic or research sense."

"Oh, I can give you a lot to write about, Doctor Spengler."

You pressed your chest to him, hands around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. As your palms drifted around to his cheeks, they quickly fell to his tie, tugging on it as you brought him closer, feeling his own hands skimming over your side, settling on your waist as the kiss deepened. Satisfied that he wasn't going anywhere, you let go of your grip on him and began running your hands through his hair, playfully teasing at the curls before you pulled back, watching with glee as he followed you, lips outstretched, before opening his eyes.

"This isn't about your cranium, though, Doctor Spengler."

Sinking to your knees in front of him, you looked up as you unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly. He reached behind him, resting his palms against the rows of books and files, trying to balance himself as he cleared the nerves from his throat. A short inhale choked in his throat as you gripped his cock, removing it from his underwear and letting it bounce free in front of you.

You wrapped your palm around his surprising, but slim, length and being stroking it slowly, watching the way his mouth moved, tongue pressing out, soft gasps emanating from his throat, as you felt him throbbing against you. And just as he adjusted himself to the sensation of your hand pumping his cock softly, you leaned forwards, tongue out, spread flat, and suddenly against his balls.

"Oh-ho... oh my."

With a soft laugh, you placed a kiss to his sack, lips wet from your drool, and let your mouth pull away for just a second before you went back in for another, tongue pushed out from your lips to lap at him as you kissed once more. On the third one, you let your lips enclose over a patch of skin, sucking slightly, tongue tip stiff and tracing over the skin in your mouth before you let go.

You stroked his cock a little rougher, placing your tongue just below it so his balls could bounce and slap on your tongue, the gentle impact rousing a heat in you, the sound almost electric in the air. Egon's fingers were stiff, tensed, tented against the shelves so firmly that his knuckles were white.

"This is... quite sufficient evidence... if you'd like to conclude the experiment."

"Do you want me to stop, Egon?"

He looked down to you, your gaze returned through your eyelashes as you blinked slowly.

"No. No. Absolutely not."

"Me either."

With a grin you kept going, fingers still wrapped tight around his cock, palm sliding against it as you pumped it rhythmically. You opened your mouth wide as you stroked, letting one of his balls rest on your tongue before you sucked it into your mouth, salivating at the taste of him, drool washing over his skin and dribbling down your chin as you hollowed your cheeks.

You let go with a pop, slurping as you released him from your lips, frothed drool spilling onto your chin as you tried to clean yourself up before diving back towards him, moaning as you jerked his cock and lapped at both balls now, futilely attempting to fit both of them in your mouth at the same time.

Instead, you let your tongue glide over them, flitting quickly from side to side as you tightened your grip on his length, only faltering with your speed when he stuttered out some words with a desperate, pleading tone.

"Ah... I think we have... sufficient evidence to... reach a... hmmm... conclusion..."

"Of course, Doctor Spengler. How would you like me to collect the results?"

A strangled laugh barked out of his throat, his eyes pressed tightly shut as he processed the words you had just said, so serious, so familiar, but so filthy.

"T-tongue... tongue, please..."

Still stroking his shaft, you picked up the speed and brought your other hand up to cup his balls, squeezing them firmly, easing up every now and then so he could feel the throb of pleasure as you tightened once more. Your mouth was open wide, a moan passing up and over your tongue which was laid out flat, ready for him.

It only took a few more seconds before his cum was painting your tongue, as well as the rest of your face. Thick, white ropes of his warm seed spattered on your skin, along your taste buds, a not unpleasant tang of salt lingering even after you swallowed what you had collected, still more of it dripping from the tip and onto your hand.

You stroked a few more times, until his body convulsed at your touch, and then you let go, standing up in front of him and wiping a drop of his cum from the corner of your mouth. He was unbalanced, his eyes half-lidded and hazy from the release, but he managed to speak through his lopsided smile.

"Wait until the scientific community hears about that."

[violetsiren90]

New Rules | Don't let him in.

Table of Contents: Teaser (Prologue); Don't pick up the phone; Don't let him in

Pairing: f*ck boi!Jisung x f!Reader; Jisung x Minho

Genre: choose your own adventure; drabble/vignette series; angst and smut; f*ck buddies; college/post grad

Summary: Jisung has had you wrapped around his finger for the last half-decade. You know good and well that it's time to move on…but you can never seem to follow your own rules long enough to shake him.

*Based on the lyrics of "New Rules" by Dua Lipa

Content warnings: 18+ (minors, dni) Explicit smut; toxic relationship; characters commit sexual acts after having partaken in controlled substances (themes continued from previous chapter); Minho touches reader intimately without asking for consent (not against her will, but still, no check-in); masturbation; flashbacks/backstory; lust and resentment; possessive Minho; cum on a character from a previous sexual encounter; super brief spanking; cursing; name calling: slut - sexual, derogatory(?); subby Jisung; kissing/making out; oral sex (f. receiving); face-sitting; female orgasm; lots of conflicting and negative feelings; drunkenness and vomiting; are we in some unhealthy territory here, folks.

Word Count: ~1700

Author's Note: Well, things are getting darker and messier. 🖤 I want to ask that any readers please review the content warnings before partaking! Thank you for everyone who's voted so far!! I absolutely love that you all chose to involve Minho in this, because the dynamic brewing here is something else. Remember to vote in the pole at the bottom of the fic if you'd like to help decide where these characters go from here! 😊

As always, if no one has told you today, please know that you're loved, and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

You'll have to kick him out again.

Three dragging raps against the door of your hotel room pull your head from the pillow and the rest of your body follows lethargically, weighed down by champagne and dejection. You bumble into a pair of sweat pants and sag against the door momentarily before pushing up on your tiptoes to press an eye to the peephole.

Mother fucking asshole.

“What do you want, Jisung?” you bark venomously, not reaching for the lock.

His brow furrows and he steps back, stumbling. Clearly, he’s made equal use of the open bar.

“Howdya know it was me?” he slurs, eyes wide in slow-witted confusion.

“I can see you through the peephole, moron,” you sneer.

His lips tug down into a pout, the kind that makes him look like a sad, injured puppy. You know them all, the manipulatively emotive masks of expression. It’s been a while though, and you can’t be sure this particularly somber scowl isn’t genuine. No, you know. It doesn’t matter if the offense he’s taken is real, the things he’ll say once he crosses the threshold won’t be. And you can’t fucking do it again. Not tonight.

You slide down the door onto flat feet and turning to press your back against the glossy eggshell paint of its surface.

You’d known he’d be at Chaeryeong and Changbin’s wedding, and you had been tempted to just send a gift out of the sheer desire to simply avoid this moment. But part of you wanted to see him. Wanted to see if he had found someone new - or if the hand that had once kept him just out of your reach still held him in its grasp. You wanted…closure, if you were being honest with yourself. A reason to move on. But of course, he’d come solo, and refused to make eye contact with you for the for the entirety of cocktail hour. Then, significantly later into the evening, you’d felt a familiar gaze burn into your breasts, your ass, the back of your exposed neck. So you’d left before you could get drunk enough to backslide onto his cock; which, should history prove exemplary, would be two shots of tequila from where your BAC currently stood.

You feel a thump against the door, and you hear his voice, closer now, like he’s leaning against it.

“Miss you.”

“No, you don’t,” you counter, with a heaving sigh.

“You don’t…hey…”

“Get out, Jisung.”

You hear him push himself off the door and shuffle over the carpet, then he thumps back against the door hard enough to jostle you.

“Just let me…use your bathroom. I’ll l-leave.”

But he never leaves. He stays, poisonously yet addictively parasitic until you carve him out like a cancer, taking so much of you with him every goddamn time.

Jisung was still panting against Minho’s chest, cum slipping slowly down his heaving belly when he opened his eyes and saw you that night all those years ago. He didn’t speak or move, jaw hanging open and eyes locked on yours as Minho leaned up to murmur whispers onto the shell of the his ear. You watched as Jisung’s eyes slid to down your body, a delicious pulse shuddering through you, and suddenly you became aware of your own fingers against your clit. You blinked down through the haze of heat and substance, to see your skirt lifted and your hand pressed to your messy cunt. You pulled it away to steady yourself against the edge of the bar.

Minho licked his lips as they stretched into a smirk, hitching the younger man up by his hips and onto his feet, pants still shoved around his thighs and his wet cock growing soft above their open waistband. Minho slowly stood, his palm sharply cracking against the bare flesh of Jisung’s ass, spilling a whimper from his lips and causing him to stumble forward, his shirt falling down over cum-slicked skin as he fumbled to tug up his jeans. The senior stalked toward where you swayed on your feet, crowding you as his hand grasped the side of your waist. As his eyes bored into yours you felt like a little quivering creature in a jar - his gaze searing past your retinas and into the dark recesses of your being where he dissected you bit by bit. His cold, steady hand slid down your hip and over your thigh, pushing your skirt up to impassively cup your sex. You let out a shuddering moan, your eyes squeezing shut. Minho chuckled darkly.

“Hmh - such a needy pussy. All puffy and wet…” he purred condescendingly above you. “Hannie baby will take care of that, right?” his hand dragged up your body to take your jaw in his pretty, powerful fingers, still damp with your arousal. Your trembled in his grasp as he pulled back to regard you with a smirk. “Remember, though - sweet, stupid little slut - you can play with that cock all you want…but I own it. Capeesh?”

You sucked in a breath and he released your chin with a hum, patting your cheek before slipping his hand into his pocket and strolling around you. You heard the sliding glass door open and shut. Jisung glanced up at you, running his hand through his hair.

“I…Jisung…”

“You’re not wearing panties,” he muttered with a swallow, his eyes on the rumpled fabric obscuring your sticky want.

“What?” you breathed.

His eyes darted up to yours.

“You liked it - watching. Didn’t you?” His voice shook as he asked. It was such a raw question - not taunting, like Minho’s had been. He was hoping. Begging.

As you watched him shuffle forward, still fumbling with the button of his jeans, you remembered his face as he came. You remembered Minho’s eyes. A fragrant, poisonous hunger bloomed to life in your belly. You surged toward Jisung, daydreams forgotten - shoving him and causing him to stumble back, eyes going wide with surprise. Alarm bells sounded somewhere in your skull, and you look down at the tremor in your hands. You didn’t recognize them. You didn’t recognize the voice that came out of your mouth.

“You’re pathetic.”

He froze, lips parting as he drank in the venom of your tone.

“Baby…” he murmured, stepping toward you cautiously.

“Don’t call me that,” you clipped, your lip quivering as your heart thrummed like a frantic hummingbird trapped inside your chest. “He called you that.”

His brows knitted, as if unsure if your words held accusation or question. He didn’t ask. Just as well. You didn’t know. Some thorny thing weaving its way around your soul tore at the innocence of your longing.

His pupils were swallowing his irises as he raised his hand to touch your cheek. His brows drew together again, but this time with a desperation so intense it was erotic. You were soaked. He leaned in and kissed your lips, and you let him. You moved your hands up to grip the sides of his shirt. He was a needy, messy kisser, and it fed the thing burning inside you that loathed and lusted with equal relish.

He dipped his hand between you to brush his fingers over your drenched folds and he groaned into your mouth. Someone stirred on the loveseat off to the right and you choked on a moan.

“Not here…” you shoved him off.

The next thing you knew your knees were kissing the harsh chill of the downstairs bathroom tiles as his mouth kissed your cunt. Your nails pressed dully into the palm of your hand through the barrier of your bunched up skirt, pulled away to afford your eyes the sight of his face between your thighs. Your other hand gripped the edge of the counter for dear life as you fought to stay upright through the overwhelming pleasure of his languid laps against your sex.

“Fuck…oh, fuck…” you whined and he whimpered against you in response, sending a buzzing vibration through you that had your body screaming out for more. You tucked the hem of your skirt into the band and reached down to part your folds with your fingers, presenting him with your flushed, swollen heat. Immediately latching onto your clit, he sucked as though his survival depended on it, and you wailed up to the ceiling, grinding down over his greedy lips and tongue.

You came against his mouth, but that wasn’t what you remembered on feverish nights thereafter. You remembered the churning in your stomach and the burning in your thighs and the drug of his gaze, heady and addictive as you smothered him, injecting itself into your veins.

You push to a stand against the hotel door, legs shaking. You want it. You need it. Just one more time.

You open the door but he pushes past you, stumbling into the bathroom and collapsing in front of the toilet.

You let out a hissing sigh, leaning against the door frame as he wretches. Perhaps this memory of his body rolling to its back on a tile floor will push away the one that’s haunted your fantasies. Perhaps. But that’s now how it’s seemed to work thus far. He raises himself up to vomit again and leave him there, tossing yourself back into bed.

Pulling the door open to a gentle knock, you recognize Changbin’s best man.

“Hi,” he grins at you sympathetically as you open it further, “One of the groomsmen said there was someone who needed a helping hand back to their room?”

He’s effortlessly handsome in his dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, tie discarded in favor of an open neck. The smile he’s sporting which presses a dimple into his cheek could likely melt tungsten at ten percent intensity. Your mouth goes a bit dry and when you swallow, it tastes like shame. You glance at Jisung laying in front of the sink.

“Uh, yeeah..” you blink, shuffling back to grant him entry.

He ambles in and peeks his head into the bathroom before turning back to you with a little furrow between his brows.

“You okay?”

You wish this stranger would immediately stop looking at you with those brown eyes - the kind that seem to scan you for weaknesses without a single predatory intention. You cross your arms over your chest and duck your head. You wish you liked it, those eyes on you - a gaze that promised nurture and healing. But you know who you are, what you crave.

“It’s been a long night. Thanks…”

“Chris,” he offers as he pulls Jisung up to a stand. You think he smiles again, but you’re not looking.

[hotchfiles]

can i request prompt 14 and 17 with remus!? Maybe the third person is james in both cases?

Would be awesome if you could include both the prompts in the same

<3

send me one of my boys + a prompt

remus + reader ⋆ "can you both just kiss and make up—" both of you: JAMES— + almost kissing. but somebody walks in. "HOLY FUCK, ABOUT TIME THIS HAPPENS! I'M SO SORRY, PLEASE CONTINUE—"

you both weren't on speaking terms for almost two weeks now, thirteen days. even during breaks from hogwarts you two wouldn't go as long without as much as a letter. but there you were, sat in the same room, avoiding each other's gaze as much as humanly possible, talking to everyone else besides each other.

of course, of course, remus was the one to start it, he was the one to avoid you like the bloody plague after making out with you at a gryffindor party. you tried looking for him, talking to him, confessing, and the boys would always cover for him, he's not here, dunno where he went. and what were you if not the pettiest fifth year hogwarts has ever had? you could avoid him too, better, you could simply not talk to him at all. not a hello, not a good night. if he couldn't face you to reject you properly, you wouldn't face him at all.

it was getting ridiculous, it was messing up the whole group dynamics, lily and james had to switch desk mates to acommodate your resolve, lily sitting with remus as she felt you would go as far as isolate yourself from all the boys if it meant getting your point made, so she wouldn't give you the chance to, james would be your desk mate. to you, not that big of a problem (but oh, james was a talker, was he always? did he ever shut up?).

as the minutes passed and you kept quiet, sleepiness took over, the fireplace warm, the voices of your friends bringing a sense of home and security, you lay flat on the comfortable rug, your arm going to your eyes to block the light, no one says anything, it's something you're used to do.

you're not sure how much time has passed since you dozed off, it could be minutes or hours, but you were awaken to muffling sounds and one particular voice you knew being raised above it.

"she's the one not talking to me, why're you ganging up on me!?" your eyes opened immediately as your upper body flew up, eyebrows close in a frown as you glanced over remus.

"i'm not talking to you!? now you're blaming me!?" your tone made every sound disappear, only breathing being heard from everyone in the common room. you can see other students outside of your little friend group shuffle around getting their things to leave what seemed to be the beginning of a fight.

remus doesn't even bother to answer, shrugging it off as if it was an obvious thing, that you were the one making things harder and weird. you curl both your hands into fists, trying to keep your cool, "you vanished, avoided me and asked the three moronic musketeers to cover for you." gasps come from the other marauders at the offense, remus opens his mouth to reply, nothing comes out. he didn't think it was that obvious, he had been thinking you were ignoring him.

"my dudes, just, can you just kiss and make up—" james proves that no, he indeed doesn't ever shut up, earning the most genuine yell of his name coming from both you and remus.

your mood and your body softens as you glance over remus for the first time in days, actually taking him in, he looked tired as always, but his eyes were glued on you, sweet, yearning. lily is quick to notice the switch, pushing all the boys outside so you two could talk.

the two of you stay silent, but remus takes it on himself to make the first move and try to fix what apparently he was the one to break in the first place. he gets up from where he is, getting closer to you as your heart beat like it hadn't done that the past two weeks. he offers his hand and pulls you up, not hugging, not touching more than the hold on your hand.

but he's so close you can hear his heart, his breathing, his scent is manly and sweet and you're drowning in him, your eyes glued to his as you try not to sink. "i thought you'd want to forget it." it being the several minutes his hands roamed your body as your lips didn't leave his. or the way his hands gripped on your waist to dear life, almost scared you would disappear in thin air. you take one step closer, but you don't reply, in case he has more to say, and he always does, he's an over explainer by heart. "you were—hammered. i needed time to deal with that."

why couldn't he just ask. why did he just assume you were only kissing him because you were too drunk? the question comes quick and the answer is in his eyes so evidently it makes your heart bleed. because he's insecure and thinks that little of himself. your hands pull his collar without thinking, the desire to show him how silly that was, and his hands find balance in your waist not to fall over you.

it's happening again, your lips are about to touch, you're about to feel him again. if it wasn't for james coming into the goddamn room talking about his forgotten scarf. "HOLY FUCK, ABOUT TIME THIS HAPPENS! I'M SO SORRY, PLEASE CONTINUE—"

remus takes notice and uses the opportunity to regain a bit of dominance, pulling you to him in the kiss you were both longing the past thirteen days. thirteen days he spent thinking of you, remembering the party, wishing he could feel your lips on his again, writing little notes to send you and throwing it away, glancing at you hoping you'd glance back at him so he could somehow read you for answers, was he in love alone?

no. he wasn't. and now he finally knew and he could melt in your arms as he always wished to.

[eenslaved]

BDSM erotica. Fictional characters over 18. Everything I write is strictly fantasy. Definitely this one, which was inspired by an interaction in real life. Just writing this story put me in a stew of absolute seeing red rage and lust. But here's this story anyway.

He looked at me. That look—it was a warning and threat all at once. That look meant to remind me of my place, was intended to recall myself. Watch yourself, that look said. 

But Joe was saying some truly dumb bullshit. Hypocritical, illogical, utter nonsense. I had about thirty different things I wanted to say to him. None of them polite.

In the end, I only snapped one thing back at him, but it was enough.

My boyfriend interrupted the debate just as Joe was getting red in the face.

"Excuse me. I'm going to have to interrupt. Win, can I speak with you for a moment?"

Everyone at the table fell silent. It was his tone. 

"Yes," I said bitterly, my eyes shooting lasers at him, at that fucking moron Joe.

"Excuse yourself, Win," my boyfriend said evenly. It was not a suggestion.

"Please excuse me, everyone," I said stiffly, through numb lips, as I stood up from the table. 

I followed Kevin out of the room. 

"Look, I—" I began defensively. 

"Shut up," Kevin said calmly. "Open your mouth, whore."

I shut up. I opened my mouth.

He made me wait until my jaw started to ache and I could feel saliva started to pool. He made me wait, standing there with my mouth open wide for him, until I began to drool.

Then he took the ball gag out from his pocket. It made my core clench from rage and humiliation to realize he had prepared for this occasion, for my speaking out.

He gagged me and strapped it on tight around my head. My face was burning; shame was curdling inside me.

"Pull your sweater up," Kevin said tersely.

I did. I wasn't wearing a bra underneath — not allowed — and so I was standing there in the hallway of our friends' house, my pale breasts out and exposed. Kevin gripped my nipples between his fingers and squeezed, crushing them while he stared at me, daring me to protest.

"You're really not that smart, are you," he said, speaking to me softly even as he kept hurting me with cold, cruel, brutal effectiveness. "How many times do I have to teach my whore this lesson?"

I could feel tears prickling in my eyes. I swallowed a whimper. 

"You do not get to contradict a man in public. Ever. Not even an imbecilic clown like Joe. You are not better than him. You are not smarter than him. You are a whore, Win, my beautiful, ill-behaved whore, who I use for fucking and filling with my cum."

A dam broke. I started bawling, breathing hard and fast through my nose while tears poured down my face.

"Your intelligence is overruled by your cunt," Kevin continued crudely. "I've shown you that, over and over, haven't I? Do I need to take you back into that room and prove it to you again, right here, in front of all our friends?"

I shook my head, frantic. Keening small desperate animal noises.

"Get on your knees, whore." He finally let go. My nipples were pulsing with a throbbing, insistent pain. "You're going to kneel there, in silence, until we've finished the next course, and think about how stupid you are to have made this mistake again."

[julesthequirky]

The Choice: Chapter Three

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters: Fem!Reader, Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy/Ben.

Warnings: Language, angst.

W/C: 1,644

Ben turned to exit your room, leaving you standing like a moron, stuck on what to do. Fuck! Your ex always said you were shit with making tough choices. Said you always looked like you were forever stuck in a damn action, like a mannequin. He always saw the pain in your face as you struggled to decide. He’d clap his hands in front of you, and you’d look at him in annoyance. Then he’d choose for you, and that voice in your head would chime up.

Inadequate.

Useless.

Can’t even make a single decision for yourself.

Well, it wasn’t true, and you could. You pushed yourself. If you followed after Ben, you’d just have to get the box again. But if Ben left…No, the door was locked. Unless he broke the lock. Would he? Fuck!

Your clenched and unclenched your fists. Your heart raced in your chest, your body heating as you continued to struggle.

“Wait!”

Your voice sounded so strangled, so strained. From outside your hallway, you heard a huff. That seemed to snap you out of your mannequin state.

You rushed back up the chair and reached to grab the box, and once it was in your grip, you jumped down from the chair and ran out. Ben was making his way down your stairs.

You followed him as he headed into the living room. He bent to retrieve his shield. You shoved the box in Dean’s hands and hurried to pick the DVDs from your shelf. The Supernatural box set almost knocked the wind outta your chest as it fell into your grasp. You grabbed The Boys and Big Sky and dumped the sets on your coffee table. Ben had turned around at this point and was looking at your display with his signature look of disgust.

“The fuck is that?”

“I tried to tell you. You’re fictional.”

“What?”

You let your words sink in. Turning to Dean and Beau, you rubbed your forehead. This was not how you wanted them to find out, but Ben had forced your hand. You hadn’t planned on a way to tell them, it wouldn’t have been like this. You would have softened the blow.

You paced in the limited area.

His brow furrowed, deepening, his lip curled, he snarled. He picked up the DVD set with Butcher’s face on the cover.

“I knew I had to tell you. Not like this but— but shit…this world, my world. It’s the real world. And the same man plays each of you. Look.” You slipped your phone from your sweater pocket. Your hands trembled as you typed the name in, and then you passed the phone to Dean. His eyes widened, and his mouth opened, only to close a moment later. His head tilted to one side as he took in the information. There were those damn butterflies in your stomach again.

“It’s like that time Balthazar sent me to that alternate dimension.”

“Yeah, except this time, you’re not Jensen. Jensen is an actor who plays a character on screen. God, this makes no sense.”

Yeah, it made no sense. It was fucking insane. Jensen played Dean, Beau, and Ben. They shouldn’t even exist. Yet somehow, they were here.

“This ain’t makin’ a lick of sense, darlin’. You’re sayin’ we’re not real. None of us? Except you?”

“Exactly.”

“Yet, somehow, thanks to a picture frame, we are.”

You nodded.

Ben’s gruff pants pulled your attention to him. He had his fists tightly clenched, his eyes squeezed shut, and his chest heaved as he huffed breaths in and out. For someone so tough and brave, seeing him like this killed you.

Your hand reached out to comfort him. His eyes snapped open and shot you a glare. You pulled your hand back in fright.

“Fuck you. I’m real!” He spat and stormed off.

Your first instinct was to follow him. To smooth things over. Apologise.

“Ben!”

As you stepped towards the hallway, a hand rested on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.

“Let him go, darlin’,” Beau said softly.

You watched Ben’s hulking frame leave your sight. Shaking your head, you turned to Beau. Dean was inspecting the box the frame came in.

“I can’t. He could break something. He could hurt himself.”

“Give him space to process.”

You pressed your lips together, grimacing, not fully agreeing with the Texan. Your eyes darted towards the hallway. God knows how he was feeling. Or what he was even thinking.

“You go in there, you’re just gonna make everything a million times worse. He needs space.” Dean said a matter-of-factly, looking at you momentarily.

You stood there, hand on a hip, chewing your bottom lip, finger twirling and tugging absentmindedly on the hair at the nape of your neck.

“You don’t know what he’s like.”

“And you think you do? Because you’ve seen him on TV.” Dean asked pointedly.

Wow.

Hurt flashed across your face. The air whooshed from your lungs as your mouth fell open.

Right here. Was reality. His words stung. Sure, they’d never affected you before. But that was because you were never on the receiving end. Reality struck. What the fuck did you think was gonna happen? That he would fall madly in love with you and live happily ever after?

You heaved in breaths as you stared at him. His words rang in your head over and over. Your ex’s voice collided – “You don’t know anything!” – making Dean’s jibe that little bit more painful. You felt your throat constrict painfully. You strengthened your resolve. There was no way you were crying in front of Dean or Beau.

“What the fuck do you know? You’ve barely been here ten seconds, and suddenly you think you know everything?”

You lashed out and stormed off, stomping up the stairs like a child having a tantrum. You slammed your bedroom door, huffing and puffing, pacing, fingers rubbing your temples. Fuck. A year after the divorce, your ex was still inside your head, finding ways to assert his control. And you were no better, throwing your ex’s words right back at Dean. Dean didn’t deserve it, of course. He had only been trying to help, and you’d gone and made it worse.

It was time to face the facts. You always made things worse. Everything you touched turned to shit.

You slumped on your bed, gripped your pillow, and stuffed your face into it. You screamed, releasing all your pent up anger and frustrations. The initial release felt cathartic as hell, but on the third, it just felt pathetic.

They were right. What the hell did you know? You didn’t. He was just a damn character off a dumb TV show. A show you took way too much of your time, consuming. Just to escape reality. It didn’t mean a damn thing.

You didn’t know Ben.

You didn’t know Dean.

Shit, you didn’t even know yourself half the time.

You brought your knees up, hugged them and sobbed. Great big chest heaving ugly sobs, clutching the pillow. Your mother was right. At thirty-six, you were a divorced loser with nothing to call your own except your dead dad’s house and a black cat.

Perhaps you were just being overly sensitive, melodramatic, or self-pitying, but the truth was the truth.

You mourned the breakup of your marriage, your dad, and your sad, pathetic existence. Fuck, you wished your dad was here. He always knew the right thing to say. He’d wipe your tears and tell you it would be if it was meant to be. He’d kiss your forehead, stroke your hair and then he’d tell you a corny joke only dads find funny, like – How do you get a country girl’s attention? A tractor.

You smiled and chuckled a little. He always knew how to cheer you up.

A soft knock roused you from your reverie, and you sniffed, wiping your tears from your cheeks, and eyes.

“Hey, you in here?”

“Yeah.” You called out, sounding so small.

The door opened, and Beau stepped in. He eased himself down beside you.

“You wanna talk about it?”

You shook your head.

“Talking does nothing.”

“Oh, I dunno ‘bout that. In my experience, talking does a world of good. So does a punch list. And breathing exercises.”

“Yeah, I know. You got Musk on there.”

Beau smiled and nudged you with his arm.

“So, come on, what’s really going on? I may not know you, but I can see there’s more inside than you’re letting on.”

You stared at the pillow in your hands. It had soaked up your tears. Soaked up your screams. Now, it was going to soak up your fears.

What to say? Your throat felt painful and tight, like something constricting your airways. You swallowed thickly, hands tightening their grip on the pillow.

“Last year, I got divorced. I’m thirty-six with no kids and a broken marriage. That’s my legacy.”

Beau shook his head.

“Hell no. That’s not your legacy. You’ve got plenty of life still left in you. There’s still plenty of time.”

He spoke kindly, softly.

“Divorces suck. I should know, and it’s only been a year. You’re still grieving. It’s natural. Your fears will only manifest if you let them. Don’t listen to the naysayers. Ignore them. They only feed into them. You’ve come this far. You’ve got so much further to go, and you know what? It gets easier. You just gotta take one day at a time.”

You smiled faintly, and he pulled you in a side hug. You said your thanks, and he smiled warmly.

“Come on, darlin’, let’s get back down there. Gotta check on Grumpy Captain America in the kitchen.”

You snorted and placed your pillow back on the bed. It seemed that he, too, possessed the ability to cheer you up, just like your dad used to.

Tags:

@deans-spinster-witch, @curlycarley

[alexa-fika]

Locked Database ( Mihawk x f!reader x Crocodile)

A/N yoooooo, I spent yesterday and today makind this, got stuck a lot but I was determined to make it happened. This one is darker than what you guys are used from me but I wanted feedback that part of me a little bit. Million thanks to @quinloki and @💧Anon for giving me inspiration and ideas for this 👀.

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha as a place holder which stands for Reader in japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

“You sure stand out, don’t you, Mr. President?” Crocodile growled, shoving the newly distributed paper on Buggy’s Throat

“It wasn’t me, I swear,” he cries

“Then how the hell do you explain it?” He said, sending a swift kick his way, ignoring the pain-filled groan that escaped him.

“I should kill you for that, clown,” he said, inching his hook closer to his neck, pausing as a knife was sent his way, passing right through his sandy body.

Mihawk continued sipping on his wine as a knife was sent his way, simply edging away slightly to avoid it, yellow irises narrowing at a woman standing before them

“Leave him alone,” she growls, a pistol drawn and pointed their way

“Dokucha” Cries Buggy

“Mr.1,” Crocodile calls, dismissedly

“Let him go,” she demanded, breath hitching as an arm wrapped around her neck, a sharp edge to it.

“Drop the weapon,” a voice grumbled behind her.

She grits her teeth, complying as the hold around her tightened, the blade digging into her skin.

“Who are you?” Crocodile asks, raising an eyebrow when his question goes unanswered.

Mihawk takes notice of this and places his wine down, and in one swift movement, takes hold of Yoru and places the sharp edge against Buggy’s neck

“Stop!” She said, trying to make a run towards him being held back by the person behind her

“Who are are you?” Mihawk Drawls

“…”

He quirks a brow at this, digging his sword closer to the Buggy, receiving a whine from the severed head

“Im his sister,” she growls

“Of this clown?” Mihawk inquires, glancing at her

“Dokucha, don’t! You moron, get out of here!” The clown pleads

“Not without you.”

“Wonder if selling you into slavery will be able to get me back all the money this one owes me.”

“Don’t touch h- Agh,” he groans as Crocodile tightens his hold on him

“Perhaps the money she gets us will be enough so we don’t have to sell you, then we can kill you here and now.”

“W-Wait” she exclaims

“You’re starting to annoy me.”

“You said you were starting a new business, right?”

He hums, gesturing to the person behind them

She sighs as the person releases her

“I'm a prodigy at statistics and economy.” She starts

“I have the ability of a devil fruit aiding me as well, makes me a human database, I can calculate in seconds, provide prognostics just as fast, I can reach valuable contacts, gather the information you can only imagine, run enough statistics to power enterprises ”she continued, getting on her knees in front of them

“I know he is an idiot, but he is still my brother; please spare him. I will work for your company; I can easily raise it and make it a formidable force, so please don’t kill my brother.” she spoke bowing her head

Mihawk takes a glance over at the begging woman

“Come here.”

She looked up at the swordsman, slowly getting up and approaching the men

“If you truly are related to this one, then you have to prove your worth,” Crocodile said, pulling out a paper and handing it to her

“These are the current funds we have. Thanks to your brother, we also have the investments we must make for the guild. Tell me how you would make it work.”

She gingerly took the paper and looked it over, her brain beginning to perform calculations, pulling information and strategies from the network, trying to find the best fit

“Well?”

“First, I would take into account the possible outcomes and expenses of these upcoming investments and create an estimated balance sheet of the income and expenses that will be generated as opposed to current investments. After that, I will assess the risk that will be involved with each expected investment and determine the expected rate of return. Additionally, I will create a comprehensive budget and forecast for expected revenues and expenses to ensure that the guild has enough resources to carry out its operations while remaining solvent. I would move funds between areas they are more needed in, I would eliminate funds given to man-power and employees to the guild; my brother has no shortage of workers, so that is something the funds should not be wasted in," she rambles

Crocodile stares at her for a few seconds until an ominous laugh escapes him

“Well, Well, seems one of the siblings is actually competent.” He stays with a grin, letting out a cloud of smoke

“Why would a smart thing like you sacrifice yourself for him?”

“Are you deaf? He is my brother, an idiot, but still my brother; I'm not leaving him to die to the likes of you.”

“That so?”

“Yes,” she growls

He hums, sending a kick to the body in front of him, the smile growing on his face at the painful whines that escaped Buggy as he did so

“Why would you do that?!” She cries, bending down to help her brother, only to stop as a sword is placed at her neck, silently urging her to rise again

She throws a glance at Mihawk as she slowly stands up again

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t appreciate the tone you are taking; if memory serves me correctly, You were the one who got on their knees begging for mercy, and we heard your plea, and in return, you insulted us?” He spoke, raising Yoru and letting a small smile as Dokucha tried to rise with it to avoid being nicked

“Don’t touch her, please! Spare her!”

Crocodile grunts, growing tired of the bluehead’s whines and sending his hook smashing to his temple, knocking him out

“Buggy!” Dokusha cried, hissing when the sword dug into her skin as she tried to step closer to her brother

“Now we can have a talk without that clown interrupting,” Crocodile spoke, letting out another train of smoke escape him

“Need I remind you that you are not the one at the advantage here, Darling?” he began leaning back

“You are outwitted, outnumbered, and outpowered; you stand no chance to leave of this unharmed, much less that brother of yours; we decided to hear your deal out but never said we would agree.”

“…”

“You certainly are an asset, and now that we know what you are capable of, we can’t allow you to leave.”

“We will spare his life; we will let him become the figurehead of crossguild, make him the scapegoat.” Mihawk continues

“A coward like him is sure to obey without complaint, especially with you in the picture. But that also brings us to you,” Crocodile spoke, looking at her mockingly. Turning to one of his subordinates and began to mutter some orders to them

“Eyes on me,” Mihawk called, pulling her attention away from the scarred man and back to him

“Seems you have more common sense and pride than him, but don’t forget where you stand.”

She grits her teeth, holding back her tongue from snapping back at him, knowing that no matter what she said, no matter what came out her mouth, he was not wrong. Her ability was the only thing keeping her alive and on their radar; she wasn’t and probably would never be a significant threat to the two Warlords.

He smiles at this

“Down,” he orders

“I ‘m not a damn mutt.”

“Yes, a dog wouldn't be this much trouble to train,” he muses

“You da-

“Down, girl,” he repeats, a firmer tone in his voice

She glares at him as she eventually does as he wants and kneels on the ground in front of them

“That will do,” she hears Crocodile mutter as the subordinate returns with something in his hands; she tries to turn to asses what the item

Was but was stopped by the sword again

“Eyes on me,” the swordsman repeats

“You have no idea what you are dealing with,” she sneers

“We do. Thanks to your pleas and little demonstration we do, and that’s why we will take precautions,” the familiar voice of Crocodile rumbles behind her; before she jad time to register his words, the sound of something snapping, and the slight weight on her shoulders answer her question

“You have quite the ability; we can’t have you trying to communicate with someone who would create a problem for us or divulging important information, so from now on, we get to decide when and how you use that devil fruit of yours.”

A feeling of dread envelops her as she tries to enter her mindscape only to be unable to find anything

“Sea stone,” Crocodile confirms

“As I said, we get to decide when and how you use it from now on, little Plover.”

“So let’s talk about what is going to happen now”

This just makes me feel some sorta waaay, what are we thinking @quinloki i, @💧anon? I am having the time of my life with this one 😂. So proud of that last part with Mihawk, really like how it turned out. Also ya’ll if that small statistic/economy talk din’t make any sense it’s because I have no idea what the hell im talking about 😂 I just used fancy words I heard my dad use, since he is a banker I figured they would fit the context.

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Neighbor Wars: Less Than Safe

Tomura Shigaraki 🎮✋🏻 vs Dabi 🪡🔥

🎮✋🏻🪡🔥You knew your neighborhood wasn’t the safest  🎮✋🏻🪡🔥If the hole-y walls and cheap rent weren’t enough to prove that  🎮✋🏻🪡🔥The raucous sounds of criminal activities would do the trick 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥And while this wasn’t the neighborhood to confront your neighbors for anything  🎮✋🏻🪡🔥You seemed to have an odd tendency for this to happen 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“Hey gorgeous you come here often?” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“I live here…obviously.” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“Doubt it. There’s no way a goody-two-shoes actually lives here.” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“Oh? Then it wasn’t this goody-two-shoes' wall you shot 4 stray bullets into?” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥You’re lackadaisical neighbor covered in tattoos, piercings, and stitches: Dabi  🎮✋🏻🪡🔥Who doesn’t care all that much for your safety until he puts two and two together 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥Suddenly he’s smoking a blunt on your shared block  🎮✋🏻🪡🔥Or outside your workplace 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“What’sa matter babe, I’m just here ta protect ya don’t mind me.” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥Your other neighbor isn’t so forward 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“Uhm I think they gave me, your package.” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“Ugh of course those morons would do that! I’m going to kill that—Whoa!” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“...Uh sir…hello?” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“....Yeah…” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥After your meeting you find yourself plugging in more of these mysterious holes 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥And having to deliver more packages that are delivered to you 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥Even the ones that possibly contain human remains+ 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“Yeah this is definitely going to keep happening so just let yourself in, it's easier to acclimatize you that way.”  🎮✋🏻🪡🔥Though it seems your neighbors already butt their heads quite a lot it gets even worse when they both seem keen on changing your situation:

“Where is this breeze even—Dabi!? What the heck, man!? What’d I say about breaking in through the window?” You dropped your coat and work uniform to dash across the little space to close the window, passing by the intruder who was much more interested in penning a new name onto his ankle. You didn’t wait for a response, continuing to talk as you did your usual perimeter check. 

“You’re practically making my place open season for all the weirdos with an open window like that!”

Dabi scoffed, “Babe, your open season because you’re you. I’m in fact holding down the fort.”

You shook your head putting your dropped things back in place. 

“Riiight. And it doesn’t have anything to do with eating my food?”

The man put a scarred hand to his chest feigning pain as his familiar smirk spread across his face. 

“Aww babe, you think so low of me?”

“I think low is an understatement. They think you’re dirt.” 

The blunt and gravelly voice of Tomura Shigaraki rang throughout the bedroom growing louder as he shuffled into the living room, a portable game in hand. You did a double take as you were sure you walked in there but you shrugged letting him make himself at home. After all, this was normal for you to be the host to your no doubt criminal neighbors.

“That’s awfully bold of you, packrat. (Y/n) loves me don’t you babe?”

“Don’t call them that and don’t let everyone know how delusional you really are. (Y/n) attracts enough creeps already.”

“Well King Incel,” “I’m not a–” “Yes you are, and I’m the least of their problems. In fact, I’ll be their precious hero, ain’t that right baby?”

You chuckled while shaking your head before beginning to close your bedroom door. Sticking your head out when they got up to follow you.

“Ah ah I’m taking a shower and no this isn’t a group activity! If you come in I’ll stab you, got it?”

“...”

“Got. It?”

“Fine, fine.” “Maybe next time sugar.”

With the slam of the door and a click of your lock, a tense silence fell over the room. The only sound was the cries and screams and the sound of bullets from Tomura’s game system. When the sounds abruptly stopped Tomura was the one who spoke.

“Their hero, huh? You’ve got plans or something?”

Dabi sucked his teeth, dubiously grinning at Tomura’s glaring pair of eyes.

“I thought you were a gamer no? Aren’t you supposed to wait for my big reveal?”

Tomura growled, clutching the game in his hands.

“Forget that. You’re going to do something stupid and everyone knows you don’t leave the dumb to their devices. So what’s your plan.”

“...”

At Dabi’s silence, Tomura felt a surge of anger slamming his game into a nearby coffee table. He gritted his teeth and banged his fist.

“DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM!? I’ll figure it out eventually so you might as well tell me!” 

Dabi groaned, he would have laughed had it been anyone else but he wasn’t so stupid to poke the bear cub. 

“(Y/n) and I are going to get out of here. This crap apartment isn’t good enough for them and they're way too lax. I’m just taking care of them so don’t get your panties in a twist.”

For some reason that didn’t seem to soothe Tomura who stood to his feet with closed fists. Angrily shaking them as he visibly scowled at Dabi. 

“Y-you stole my idea!”

“Your idea? Please in the real world, kid, it’s called being smart.”

“No it’s called being a scheming b-”

Your bedroom door swings open as you make your way into the kitchen. All it takes is a curious tilt of your head in Tomura’s direction that has him sitting back down and begrudgingly returning to his game. You simply shrugged passing by a smirking Dabi as you made your way to the kitchen.

“So boys what’s for dinner?”

[hainethehero]

A JOSS WHEDON HATER FOREVER- a think piece on how Avengers 1 set up Steve Rogers to be the MCU's punching bag for the rest of the franchise

(We all know Joss Whedon is an absolute garbage person. He's done many horrible things including being a racist, sexist moron who should be behind literal bars.) This is a commentary on his absolute shit writing for Avengers 1.

This one particular scene and the one following it is purely poor writing & direction for the character of Steve Rogers.👇

After Coulson dies, Fury addresses Steve and Tony and tosses Coulson's bloodied Captain America cards at Steve. He says something like "guess you never found the time to sign them" which is just horribly cruel and though not OOC for Fury, is not something he'd say lightly. We later realize here👇

...that he's secretly trying to put together the team. This is where he makes his big "there was an idea" speech and mentions that "Stark knows this." Because yeah, Tony was made aware of this in Iron Man 1 when Coulson visited and told Pepper. In contrast, Steve had no idea about the Avengers Initiative.

In fact, the dude was just pulled from the Valkyrie in the ice!! In the beginning scene of Avengers 1, we see him at the gym with the punching bag having LITERAL WAR FLASHBACKS about Bucky and Peggy and the Howlies! He's not stable and yet Fury confronts him and ropes him into the mission to get the Tesseract. Steve says, "you should've left it where you found it." And I can't help but think that maybe Steve means himself as well because dude just lost EVERYONE & EVERYTHING he literally knew and cared about.

Anyway, back to the point, Steve knows nothing about the Initiative but is suddenly made to feel guilty about Coulson's death in some kind of roundabout way of "convincing him to join the team" in honor of Coulson.

And then, to make matters WORSE, in the next scene they make HIM comfort Tony 👇

They make him say, "im sorry" (like it was his fault???!) and "he was just doing his job" and "is this the first time you've lost a soldier?" LIKE WTAF???

*INSERTS JACOB ELORDI MEME FROM EUPHORIA SAYING WHAT THE FUCKKKKK?!*

First of all, Steve barely knows these people! Second, he was fond of Coulson and I'm sure they would've been close friends. But did they have to GUILT-TRIP Steve into joining the team? Like, that's just dumb and proves that they don't actually give a fuck about his character!

AND TALK ABOUT MEAN! Fury at least knew about Steve losing Bucky on that train. He KNOWS Steve's first words when he woke up from sleep was "I had a date" reflecting the tragedy of the man out of time. To just rip him out of sleep and thrust him into a mission and later making him feel guilty about Coulson was just pure cruelty, making SHIELD no better than HYDRA. They all saw Steve as a pawn, another mindless soldier to carry out their missions and I hate JW for that.

Steve's character was not accurately portrayed nor was his trauma properly dealt with and so this is why today, we see alot of MCU "fans" calling Steve the worst avenger, lame, boring and basically a crutch to Tony's genius. (I'm a huge Tony Stark fan, don't @ me). It just felt that the mcu wanted to make Tony the ultimate hero- which is fine, Nothing's wrong with that- but they did it at the expense of Steve's character and trauma.

Sadly, this narrative continues all the way down to Endgame and for that I will always hate JW & the mcu's portrayal of Steve Rogers.

[jungle-angel]

The One With The Home Movies (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: You and Rhett find some old home movies of his parents and decide to watch them

Warnings: Pregnancy, birth, mentions of custody battles, Royal being a pain in Cecelia's ass etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @bradleybeachbabe @callmemana @attapullman

"Jeebus, Mary and Joseph, how fuckin hard is it to find a fuckin Disney movie in this house?" Rhett muttered under his breath as he went through the box of video tapes in the closet.

His efforts weren't proving much as he tried to find a movie that wouldn't scare the bejesus out of Amy, despite the fact that she was only six months old and wouldn't be paying attention. Hercules? That was always a good one.

"The hell?"

He pulled a videotape from the box, the masking tape on the side labeled "Roy and Cece, '92-'93". He set it aside and kept searching, finding a bunch of others labeled with his parents' names and their dates stretching all the way back to at least 1985.

"Whatcha lookin for Rhett?" Royal asked him.

"Tryna find a movie for Amy, all I found was uh......Hercules and......this," Rhett answered.

Royal took the tape from him, laughing a little. "Not sure if she's gonna wanna watch this," he chuckled. "Completely forgot about this one."

"What? Ya'll made a sex tape back in the day?"

Rhett laughed as Royal swatted at him, missing him by barely an inch. "You're somethin else boy," Royal told him. "I'll pop it in after lunch and we'll see what's on it."

As soon as his father's back was turned, Rhett made a face and thrust his hips back and forth, thinking Royal wouldn't notice.

As soon as lunch was over and Amy had been put upstairs for a nap, you and Rhett gathered in the living room with his parents to see what horrors lay in wait on the videotape.

"Hope it still works," Cecelia said, crawling under the fuzzy throw blanket with Royal.

The VCR clicked and the video began playing, the date April of 1992 displayed across the bottom corner of the screen. You and Rhett were shocked when you saw a very young Cecelia Abbott appear on screen, holding a little stick in her hand and the voice of a small toddler running around and babbling in the background.

"Alright what's up?" asked Royal's voice. "Is it showin?"

"Yep, there it is," Cecelia answered, showing him the stick. "Showin positive."

"Oh my God," Royal chuckled. "Oh holy shit......I didn't think doin it like we did would work......"

"Oh Dad that's nasty!!!" Rhett blurted out, laughing.

"What? I didn't think it would," Royal said before Cecelia smacked his shoulder.

You laughed too, turning your attention back to the TV, the footage cutting to some time later in June, showing Royal and Cecelia in Montana with John and Evelyn Dutton.

"Oh God, I remember that day," Cecelia chuckled. "I miss her so bad."

"Yeah, get it! Get it! Show it off!" Royal's voice told her.

You both laughed as young Cecelia showed off her unnoticeable bump along with Evelyn, the two of them bantering with their husbands.

"So this was with you?" you asked Rhett.

"Yep," he answered, a huge grin plastered on his face.

"Oh God here we go," Royal said. "This was the day Perry found out he was getting a baby brother."

You giggled a little when you saw the date of August, 1992 on the bottom of the screen, Royal still behind the camera and Cecelia pointing out all the details in the sonogram photo in her hands.

"What am I seein?" Royal asked.

"Right there," Cecelia said, pointing it out.

"Right where?"

"Right there! Look with your eyes ya moron," Cecelia chuckled.

"OOOOOH!!!" Royal exclaimed. "Oh jeebus!!! He's fuckin flashin us!"

You and Rhett laughed as his parents rolled their eyes.

"I no wanna baby bruver!" the two year old in the video pouted.

"Well, you're gettin a baby brother Per," Royal told him.

"No I not."

"Yeah you are."

It continued like that for a good minute and a half, you and Rhett shaking your heads.

"And that is where your father learned quickly, never to pick a fight with a two year old," Cecelia laughed.

Back to the TV your eyes turned with more footage to come, jumping quick from August to December. "Oh God I remember that year," Cecelia groaned. "My mother had me on bedrest after Alabama defeated the Hurricanes."

"You know you're gonna need to quit scarin us right?" Royal said, his nose pressed against Cecelia's bump, herself half hidden as she held the video camera. She laughed when he gave her an annoyed side-eyed look, the fabric of her denim shirt stretching when the baby's foot nudged against his father's nose.

"Ya'll see what the little fucker just did?" he asked.

"No I did not just feel my lungs getting rearranged and moved in fifteen different directions," Cecelia laughed.

"He keeps it up I'm giving him his eviction notice."

"Ya'll will do no such thing," Cecelia told him. "If I go into early labor it's on you and you're taking Perry for an entire month."

"Yes dear," Royal sighed.

"Jeez ya'll must've been those last few weeks, huh?" Rhett asked his father.

"Try the last month," Royal answered.

"Oh jeez here it comes," Cecelia laughed.

You and Rhett were squirming a little when the video cut to the day Rhett was born, January 29th of '93. The footage showed poor Cecelia all laid up in her bed, the very same room upstairs in the house that hadn't changed in the last 31 years, laying on her side and her hand on her belly as she tried to plow through the labor pains.

"So.....ya'll want me to get a double wide shot o' this or pan down?" Royal asked before she flipped him the bird.

"If ya'll get even so much as one shot of anything comin out down there, I'm gonna kick your ass," Cecelia groaned.

You and Rhett couldn't help but laugh when suddenly it cut to the actual birth footage. "OH GOD DAD!!!! FAST FORWARD!!! FAST FORWARD!!!!" Rhett blurted out.

"I'm tryin! I'm tryin!" Royal insisted, trying to use the remote to fast forward.

Cecelia laughed a little. "Revenge, thirty something years in the making," she chuckled.

When Royal was finally able to fast forward through the nasty parts, he stopped at the one part that had you melting and Rhett's cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. You couldn't believe how adorable Rhett was as a newborn, his face pinker than the sunset and a head full of dark hair, all snuggled under his little blanket.

"Aw look how cute you were?" you teased.

Rhett felt a flush of heat going from his cheeks down to his chest.

"Yeah he was cute but when he turned two, he turned into a lil devil," Cecelia joked.

Now it was yours, Rhett's and Cecelia's turn to embarrass Royal when a shot of him holding Baby Rhett came on the screen, the tiny little baby practically being swallowed up by his blanket and his father's arms all at once.

"Are ya'll cryin?" Cecelia asked, aiming the camera at her husband and newborn son.

"Nope," Royal croaked.

"Bullshit, you're cryin," Cecelia chuckled.

You went through the rest of the video, all of you half laughing and half crying. It was a part of your in-laws' past that you had never seen before, a side of them that had only returned when Perry had been kicked out of the house.

"Are you actually crying?" you asked, noting the misty look in your husband's eyes.

"Darlin I'm fuckin laughin," Rhett chuckled.

"Bullshit, I know you better than that," you laughed, kissing him on the lips.

You couldn't see it, but the smiles on Royal and Cecelia's faces said it all.