#him having his disgusting fathers name in his makes me mad

[remuslupinlovebot]

as if sirius’ life story wasn’t tragic enough, the blokes initials are SOB….. fucking SOB.

[sanarsi]

But daddy, I love him!

older boyfriend!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Your controversial old boyfriend is back from his deployment. Your father is against your relationship. Or Joel fucks you on his motorcycle. Warnings: +18, MDNI, angst, arguing, age gap (reader is 20, Joel is 40), ex-soldier!boyfriend!Joel, rough sex, unprotected PIV, pussy eating, dirty talk, dom!Joel, motorcycle sex, daddy kink, pet names (daddy, sir, baby girl, good girl), hair pulling, no-outbreak AU and no-Sarah Wordcount: 4,5k An: My boyfriend’s back, and he’s cooler than ever. This text inspired me to write this wonder. Hope you enjoyed bestiesss <3 Music I worked with: Lust For Life - Lana Del Rey, The Weeknd

Masterlist

One message made your heart fill with warmth and your lips formed the most sincere smile in months.

Joel: I'm back.

The same message also caused hell in your house.

Screams echoed throughout the house for almost an hour. Your throat and eyes hurt.

Another dose of hot tears ran down your cheeks as you tried to convince your father to let you meet with Joel.

With your controversial old boyfriend who you met right after your eighteenth birthday. And the whole world could be against your love but you didn't care. After all, it was with him that you experienced the most beautiful things in your life.

He was the one who treated you like his princess the moment your father stopped.

"I forbid you!" Another scream from your father echoed through the kitchen.

Your mother was sitting at the kitchen island drinking soothing herbs. She hadn't said a word for several minutes. Just stared blankly into space.

She wasn't defending you.

She was on her husband's side.

Not on her own daughter's.

"I'm not sixteen anymore so you can forbid me from doing something!"

"You're my daughter! I have the right to forbid you from making the biggest mistake of your life!"

And that's how this conversation looked from the moment it started. From the moment your father accidentally saw a message on your phone.

If it weren't for your inattention, you would be sitting in your room now, waiting for another message. Happy that you're about to see your beloved after a few months of separation. Without letting your parents know where you're going, who you're with, and when you're coming back.

"He's not a mistake!" you screamed, more tears streaming down your neck. Your preparation for the meeting went to hell. You looked like seven disasters. Mascara smudged under your eyes, irritated eyes, tears that had washed off your makeup.

Everything was wrong.

Father snorted dryly at your words, sending you an amused look. It hurt.

"Child, this man is using you. He's manipulating you because you're young and stupid," he growled in disgust.

You blinked a few times, not knowing if it was your heart that broke or the cup your mother had dropped. You stared at the man who raised you and was once the most important person in the world to you.

It was amazing how time can change everything.

"Is that what you think of me?" you asked, smiling sadly. "That I am stupid because I fell in love with someone who treats me like an equal? ​​Shows me respect and understanding?" you said, your voice breaking more and more.

"Oh, please," he snorted, rolling his eyes. "Do you really believe that a guy my age can love you and not just want you in his bed?" There was simply hatred in his gaze. There was no compassion or understanding. In his eyes, you were a stupid and disobedient girl.

You snorted sadly, shrugging your shoulders.

"I don't know, you used to," you replied with venom.

The kitchen fell silent. Your mother was afraid to even look up at you. And your father seemed to be on the verge of madness. He was breathing heavily, looking at you with something dark in his eyes.

You felt the vibration of your phone in your pocket and your heart immediately beat faster.

He had arrived.

"Get out of my sight," he growled, pointing his finger towards the stairs leading to your bedroom.

It was a pity that you didn't intend to go back there. Not after the hatred with which your own family treated you. If they could, they would have disowned you and everything you represented.

But looking at your parents, who were together out of habit and not love, you were glad that you were different than they wanted you to be. You weren't the one who was unhappy. You weren't the one who cheated on your partner at the first opportunity. You weren't the one who fell asleep after an argument about who was the worse person.

You loved and were loved.

"With pleasure," you said angrily and left the kitchen.

But instead of going to your room, you went to the hall to put on your shoes and take your backpack. It was amazing that you had packed everything you needed in it.

All your belongings.

"Where are you going?" he shouted, following you.

"I'm getting out of your sight. Just like you wanted," you said indifferently and with one movement you opened the door. You didn't pay attention to how hard the wooden board hit the wall when you went outside.

Your gaze immediately fell on the end of the sidewalk to the man sitting on the motorcycle.

Time stopped for a moment.

There was only him, smoking a cigarette in peace. A gentle wind blew his flannel shirt, jeans hugged his legs and gel held his slowly graying hair perfectly.

He looked even better than you remembered.

Broad shoulders and muscles tensed under the dark green material. The same wrinkle between his eyebrows and that tired look that immediately lit up at the sight of you.

Your father's screams didn't reach your ears.

There was only the strong beating of your heart and that smirk you missed. You felt butterflies in your stomach as you watched him throw the cigarette butt on the ground and reach behind him for helmet.

The helmet he bought specially for you.

"You're not going anywhere with that man," your father growled, tugging on your elbow to get your attention.

That was enough for the endless moment to end.

You looked at him over your shoulder with a hateful look and yanked your hand out of his grip.

"Try to stop me," you said defiantly.

Your father knew who Joel was. And he might have doubted your love, but he couldn't doubt that Joel was capable of protecting you.

That's why when you saw a spark of hesitation in his eyes, you immediately took the opportunity and ran towards the motorcycle.

"Get back here!" he shouted, running after you. Joel started the motorcycle as if on cue. You grabbed the helmet he held out to you and quickly sat down behind him. Your fingers trembled as you try to buckled it.

"I wouldn't come any closer if I were you."

You shivered when you heard the voice you missed so much. You looked up at Joel who was just sending a warning look to your father. The tension between them sent shivers down your spine.

"You're disgusting," he hissed.

Joel snorted under his breath and smiled widely. With superiority.

"Nah, your daughter thinks I'm pretty good," he teased. Your breathing quickened when you finally managed to get the clasp off and you hugged him tightly around the waist. "See ya," he winked, amused at the state he left your father in.

Anger seethed in him and if he could, he would have started to boil. But you couldn't see it anymore because Joel, with a roar of his motor, drove away from your house. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you could barely catch your breath, let alone know what was going on around you. Your arms tightened around him as you pressed your cheek against his back.

Feeling him again after so many months was a completely different experience. It was better than getting high after rehab.

His scent was intoxicating. He smelled like a man you would trust with your life. His muscles felt like a place you never wanted to leave again.

He was like home.

"Hi, baby," he said tenderly, placing his hand on your thigh. You felt shivers when he started stroking your leg in that caring way. He laughed quietly feeling your body tremble.

Everything around you became quieter.

"I missed you."

"Yeah?" he asked teasingly.

"Mhm," you nodded hugging him tighter to which he tightened his hand on your thigh.

"I missed you too."

You smiled at his words which made warmth spread through you.

He missed you.

And suddenly everything in your head calmed down.

All unwanted thoughts and worries disappeared.

There was only the sound of the motorcycle, the wind whistling over your skin, his body against yours and the view of green fields.

You felt good again.

Safe.

"Do you have everything with you?" he asked, calmly leading the way. You nodded. "Just your backpack?"

"Yeah," you replied, swallowing hard. The change in tone didn't escape his notice. He removed his hand from your thigh and slowly ran it over your hand on his stomach.

"That's good. I have more room to maneuver with the gifts," he said with a smile, then took your hand and pulled it to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss on it. You shivered at the feeling of his lips and beard on your skin.

You didn't even realize how much you missed it. His words, as always, brought you comfort.

He always took care of you.

From the moment he decided to save you from the aggressive guy at the club. From the moment his worried eyes met your terrified gaze.

From the moment he offered to walk you home after that, you always felt safe with him.

It took so little to fall in love with him.

His gentle smile, warm gaze, and careful touch were enough.

"Want to show you somethin’, sweet girl."

Then there was only a loud growl, acceleration and a tighter grip on his body. The landscape slowly passed before your eyes as you drove fast through almost empty roads.

A feeling straight out of a movie.

That's how you felt all the time when he was around.

His gaze was always on you, making you hot and butterflies in your stomach. With him, you were the main character. Always. Even when you argued, all he wanted was for you to stop looking at him with pain in your eyes.

He treated you like his princess.

Only to treat you like a whore at night.

And he was the best at it.

Motor began to slow down so you lifted your cheek from his back to look around. You were on top of some mountain. The view of the forests and the city stretched in the distance. You had never been here before. You didn't even know this place existed even though you had lived here your whole life.

Joel stopped, turning off the engine and patted your thigh. You knew what to do so you deftly jumped off the seat.

There was silence all around, interrupted by the singing of birds. It was peaceful. Perfect.

You took off your helmet and hung it on the handlebars. A strong arm immediately wrapped around your hips, pulling you closer. You bumped into Joel's hard chest and gave him an innocent look that immediately made him start to harden in his jeans.

His gaze began to carefully examine every inch of your face, as if he was seeing you up close for the first time. But you hadn't changed even a little. The same shiny eyes, firm skin and delicious lips.

His fingers ran down your neck, sending shivers down your spine. A smirk bloomed on his lips as he felt you still react so intensely to his proximity.

You were so damn soft under his rough touch.

"Will you smile for me?" he asked, grabbing your chin. As if on cue, you couldn't help but smile. "That's my girl," he praised, returning your smile. "That's what I missed the most." His thumb slowly ran over your skin until it caught your lower lip. "And that," he added and without waiting, he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. You closed your eyes immediately, melting in his arms.

The longed-for and deep kiss he gave you, easily made your knees tremble. You slowly embraced his neck, pulling him even closer, thirsty for his closeness.

His attention.

His tenderness.

A quiet sigh escaped your lips into his when he tightened his hand on your hip. His touch was domineering and his lips dominant. His desire for you didn't decrease even a little, it actually increased.

You felt a slap on your butt and his fingers digging hard into your skin. You moaned, thirsty for more.

More of his hands on your body.

More kisses on your warm skin.

More of him.

“I missed those sweet sounds of yours,” he whispered against your lips as he slowly pulled away with a blissful smile. You caught your breath licking your swollen lips, and your eyes began to sparkle again as you looked at him.

Unlike you, he had changed.

He had more wrinkles around his eyes. His hair was starting to lose its shine and his beard was turning grey.

He was aging before your eyes.

“You were supposed to go to war, not to a beauty salon,” you said biting your lip to hide your growing smile.

He snorted, looking away for a moment in amusement. This sound was enough to make your stomach clench pleasantly. His smile was the most beautiful sight you could have after so many months of emptiness.

“Are you teasing your old man? Naughty,” he smacked his lips disapprovingly and squeezed your butt harder before he let go of you.

You took a step back, letting him get off the bike. He straightened with a soft groan as his spine cracked.

“I guess it’s been a while since anyone gave you a massage,” you said teasingly as he slowly walked up to you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Unfortunately, where I was, there weren’t any masseuses as pretty as you,” he teased, wrinkling his nose as he leaned down to place a soft kiss on your lips.

A few soft kisses.

You giggled as he started kissing your cheek and neck, teasing you with his stubble.

“I have something for you,” he whispered, straightening up and reaching under the collar of his shirt.

A soft jingle caught your attention.

The sun reflected off the silver dog tag that hung between you.

“This was my last mission,” he announced, placing the necklace around your neck this time. “I’m yours now.”

Those words hit you like a bucket of cold water. You blinked a few times, looking at the dog tag. The embossed letters with his data gleamed in the sunlight like a promise. Such a little piece of metal that meant so much. So much to him and now, so much to you.

He belonged to you now.

Your heart almost fell out of your chest when he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him again.

“Now I can take care of you properly.”

The gentleness and certainty with which he said it made you dizzy. And suddenly all those months of waiting turned out to be worth every minute.

Just so he can come back to you, giving yourself on an open hand.

“Will you accept me?”

Willyouacceptmewillyouacceptmewillyouacceptme.

It's the same as 'will you marry me'.

You stared at him expectantly, slowly starting to lose your breath. Did he really- No, he can’t. Or can he?

Joel saw the confusion in your eyes. You were only twenty, you had barely started living an adult life, and he was offering you something that was an obligation until the very end.

And maybe he was old, he didn't have as much strength and will to live as he once did, but he wanted you.

He wanted to take care of you.

He wanted you to be able to rely on him in everything.

So that you wouldn't be afraid to ask him to buy an extra pack of jelly beans or to kill a man for you.

He wanted to help you get through life, protecting you from anything that could hurt you.

“Say yes, my love,” he whispered, stroking your cheek.

Your silence began to drag on. But you didn’t think about the answer. You tried to understand what happiness had just reached you.

“Say yes and I will never let you worry about anything again.”

He needed to hear your consent even though he saw the answer on your face. That's why he wasn't afraid to wait when you were silent for a long time.

He leaned down and gently brushed his nose against yours. His hot breath mixed with yours and even such a small thing made you shiver.

"Say yes and be mine," he whispered, tilting his head so he could run his lips over yours.

Gently like the beating of a butterfly's wings.

Your eyelids began to droop from the feeling of warmth he began to surround you with.

"Y-"

And that was enough for his hand to tangle in your hair, holding you tightly as he pressed his lips painfully against yours.

You moaned, wincing as your teeth clashed and his tongue immediately entered your mouth. Only now could you feel the desire from longing for you.

He kissed hard but slowly, passionately.

He kissed so that you felt a tingling between your thighs.

The tingling quickly turned to excitement as he pulled closer your hips until you could feel his hard cock. You sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck as he gently rubbed himself against you with a soft groan.

After that, everything happened quickly. You had no idea how you ended up on the seat of a motorcycle, without any shorts or panties, while making out with him. But you don’t mind. As long as his hands gripped your body like that, you didn't care about anything.

He growled softly, his fingers gripping your thighs tighter. His thumbs were close to your little slice of heaven, sensually massaging your skin.

And you might have been wet before, but now you were leaking onto the seat.

Joel didn't care that he made a mess. He didn't care about the teeth marks he left on your skin as he went lower and lower. He didn't care about how his cock painfully dug into his jeans, wanting to get out.

He cared about how hard your nipples were standing before he even ran his warm tongue over them.

The animalistic groan that escaped your throat made his balls ache.

"Fuck baby, I haven't even started with you yet and my cock is about to fall off," he mumbled without stopping sucking on your nipple.

Another wave of arousal hit your clit, allowing more juices to flow out of your hole and between your ass cheeks. His teeth began to tease your already oversensitive nipple, making you whimper.

"Joel, please."

He loved hearing your pleas. How beautifully his name sounded on your lips when you were possessed by pleasure. And Joel never refused you. So after a moment he was kneeling in front of you, gripping your thighs, forcing you to spread your legs even wider for him.

“Oh, fuck me,” he groaned at the sight of your cunt. Wet, leaking and throbbing, just for him. “Daddy’s home.”

And he dove in, collecting with his tongue everything that leaked out of your hole with gusto. You moaned loudly watching as he greeted your pussy. Groans of pleasure left his throat every time another dose of your arousal appeared on his tongue.

Like a thirsty man, he dove his tongue into you and your loud moans mingled into one. All your blood began to flow to that one small point, which after a moment was between his lips.

He sucked on your clit with a purr and allowed himself to give it a moment of attention. He made slow circles with his tongue and your legs began to tremble.

"I'm gonna come," you warned him, panting heavily. He glanced up at you, not taking his mouth off you, and you could have sworn that this view should be immortalized in a museum. You could watch for hours as he knelt thirsty in front of you to eat you.

The grimace of pleasure on your face only made his balls boil. He ran his tongue along the length of your slit and sucked on your clit again. You whimpered as you felt your orgasm approaching.

You didn't even have to try, because a wave of pleasure hit you a moment later when he bit down on your nerve nub. Fucking nirvana you could feel again after a few months of separation.

You shuddered, pushing your hips into him as he rode you through your orgasm for as long as he could.

And only when he cleaned everything that had flowed out of you, he let you breathe. He stood up with a quiet groan and immediately reached for his belt.

"My balls are about to fall off because of you, princess," he joked with a quiet snort. You breathed heavily as you watched him unzip his fly and reach under his underwear.

With a sigh of relief, he pulled out his painfully hard cock, which quivered at the contact with the outside world. You swallowed hard as you saw another drop of precum flowing from his head. He pumped it slowly a few times and approached you, positioning himself perfectly between your legs.

He held his cock firmly at the base and with a hiss of satisfaction he slammed it perfectly into your clit a few times. You whimpered, clenching around nothing.

"Yeah, just like that."

He guided the tip down and ran it between your wet slit. His head was soft and warm so your body didn't resist as he slowly pushed a few inches into you. You began to breathe harder, watching as he slowly disappeared deeper and deeper into your pussy.

Joel moaned in satisfaction, feeling your hole accept him perfectly smoothly. As if she was just waiting for his cock to fill her up again.

“Oh god,” you gasped, already feeling full but you could see he had to go in a few more inches. You clenched on him in warning and he grabbed your hips tightly to hold you in place as he slowly pushed deeper into you.

“Good girls take everything their daddies give them,” he gasped, watching you helplessly look at the spot where you were connecting. “You’re a good girl, right?”

You squealed, pressing your lips together tightly and nodding your head eagerly. His cock made you not know if it was better to breathe or not. Joel smiled, pleased with your reaction and with one hard movement, he pushed himself all the way into you. You moaned like a wounded animal as your eyes rolled back and your head fell back.

“Fuck yeah,” he groaned in pleasure, feeling your pussy clench around him in welcome.

And then it started.

His hips slowly pulled back only to thrust hard into you. Joel was never gentle with sex. And you never thought you'd like it. But you did.

His fingers dug hard into your flesh as his hips began to painfully slam against yours. You were barely able to stay in your seat. The loud moans had already scared away the birds and his growls had scared away all other animals. He was pounding his rock hard cock into you, causing more and more juices to spill from your hole.

The wet sound echoed around every time he thrust into you. And he didn't care that you couldn't catch your breath. He didn't care that you had nothing left to scream for. You just existed. Taking everything he gave you. Like a regular fuck doll.

"Fuckin’ take it," he growled.

You slowly started to choke but that only intensified the pleasure that accompanied his cock as he drove it into you all the way. He watched you struggle with the overwhelming feeling of bliss that he gave you. He loved seeing you like this.

His cock literally took your breath away.

But then his thumb appeared on your clit and you automatically gasped for air. You tensed up, moaning throatily until your knees trembled under him. Your pussy immediately became tighter, making his balls shiver.

His thumb made quick circles around your clit and you couldn't fight the feeling that appeared in your legs. You were helpless.

"Yesyesyesyesyesyes," you started to repeat on the edge of your endurance. Your body was fighting the approaching orgasm, making the blood start to boil throughout your body.

His finger disappeared and in return, you felt his hand grab your hair tightly. You weren't even able to hiss in pain when he pulled you to him. You looked at animal instinct in his eyes, feeling how he intensified his thrusts.

"Father didn't want you?" he asked, panting heavily. You clenched your jaw tighter as he jerked you harder. A devilish smile appeared on his lips. "Don't worry, baby. Now I will take care of you."

"Yes," you hissed, fighting the feeling that was slowly overpowering you.

"Yes what?" he growled, tugging harder at your hair. He leaned down, running his tongue over your neck to finally plant a gentle kiss.

“Yes, sir,” you repeated. He smiled against your skin

“Good girl,” he praised you, pleased and bit into the spot right after your ear. And then you were gone.

You moaned like a real slut, coming on his cock. Your legs began to tremble as he continued to fuck you mercilessly.

A wave of orgasm flooded your body, cutting off your access to oxygen, and another wave, flooded his cock. Your juices began to drip down his balls as with a groan, he continued to suck on your skin, marking you.

Moans, sighs and squeals mixed into one as your pussy pulsed around him. And that brought him to the end. He bit painfully into your neck and holding you tightly, thrust into you several times. Hard and deep, filling you with all of his seed.

His throaty groan sent vibrations through your body as he finally stopped. You panted heavily, still pulsating until his cum started to flow out of you too.

"Fuck, I missed you," he groaned pulling away from you so he could look at your face. Tiredness mixed with bliss. But it was your sparkling eyes that said it all.

You smiled lazily as he rested his wet forehead against yours, allowing both of you to calm your racing hearts.

"I would possess you in every way possible and I would never get enough of that sweet pussy of yours."

You snorted helplessly at which a smile blossomed on his lips. And then he just kissed you. Tenderly and slowly. Finally able to enjoy your closeness

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fic: Copyright

The first time it happened, the Waynes were walking around a street market, glancing at the art, when a woman wearing a Red Hood jacket and drinking out of a Red Robin coffee traveling mug struts by.

The heroes stop to stare, more in shock, to see how well the two items are done, which grabs her attention.

She grins at them, waving her cup. "You guys like the bats? You should check out both nineteen. He sells all official stuff."

"Official?" Dick repeats.

"Yup. He has it all trademarked." She says, pulling out a business card. She hands it to Dick with a smile before bidding everyone goodbye. Babs reaches up, snatching the card from Dick's slack hold, pulling out her phone to research the name.

Babs hisses through her teeth when she finds out that, yes, whoever the artist is, they did, in fact, trademark their designs. But not only did they cover their art, but they also put a copyright over the idea of all the Gotham heroes.

"He copyrighted Batman!?" Tim demands, reading over the baby's shoulder. "The symbol, the technology, the fighting moves- his shadow!? How!?"

"No one else did," Bruce answers with an amused smile. "He probably realized this and decided to slap one on while he had the chance."

"He can't do that!" Tim shouts. "Batman should sue him."

"Kinda hard to take someone to court regarding vigilantes." Dick shrugs his shoulders. "The Bats are illegal themselves, and they didn't copyright before this guy did."

"He owns Robin!" Jason announces with a laugh.

"That son of a-!!" Dick shouts, twisting around and stomping down the booths. People who recognize them jump out of the way for the raging celebrity. The rest of the Waynes were right behind him, a few slightly surprised by the pure anger on the eldest face.

Not Bruce or Jason. They see and personally know Dick's rage.

"How dare he try to claim Robin!" The eldest hisses, rounding the last row and stumbling to a halt. The rest are unprepared for his sudden stop, so they stumble into his back.

Grunts of pain and slight soft swears are heard as the group tumbles over onto the ground. Dick is unfortunate enough to end up on the bottom, feeling the total weight of his family. He's pretty sure Bruce's elbow was digging into his lower back, and Tim's head had slammed on the back of his neck.

Maybe Alfred was right about them going on a stricter diet. Ouch.

"Get up this instant. We are ashamed of the family name." Damian hisses from where he is standing above them. Of course, Cass is next to him with a cheerful smile.

Both of them had danced out of the collision in a way that appeared accidental to the untrained eye. Bruce likely let himself fall because he enjoyed causing scenes as Brucie Wayne, no matter how much he denied it.

"Dick." Jason groans, taking the hand Cass held out for him with grace. "Why did you stop?"

"Look at both nineteen." Dick hisses feeling Tim delibertly dig his elbow into his back. His brother offers him a sweet, innocent smile that does not hide the anger in his eyes. Sometimes Dick wonders if anyone can spot the pettiness in Tim or if his madness hides it.

"Oh," Steph whistles when she hopes off of Bruce to stare at the booth owner. "Yeah, I get it. He's hot"

"No!"Dick shouts, rising up from the ground. There is horror in his voice that makes the Bats all tense. "No, he is not hot. That's disgusting Steph. Look at him. Tell me who's face that is."

It's Bruce who spots it first. "I have more chidlren?"

Damian gasps. "Father, you have more blood, children!? How did you recognize him, Richard?"

"He looks exactly like Bruce at that age." Dick hisses, leaning closer. "The Titians and I met Bruce when he was sixteen during a mishap with a time wizard. I may have pretended to be a butler sent to Wayne Manor for training to get access to the cave. The cave was the location that we had to use to go home."

"That was you?" Bruce demands. "I thought that was an idiot who was in love with Alfred."

"Ew, why?"

"You kept complimenting his cooking, doing chores for him, and trying to take him out for a fun night in town!"

"Well, excuse me for wanting Alfred to have a week's vacation from the broodiest and most troublesome teen!" Dick shouts, throwing his arms in the air. "You were literally hissing at him whenever he told you to bathe!"

"I didn't like water back then!"

"Hey guys?" Jason cuts in. "Tim left."

Both men swing to stare at the second eldest with twin looks of confusion. "What?"

"Tim. He's over there. Yelling at kid-Bruce." Jason points to where a crowd is slowly building around them. Tim is in a screaming match with the owner. There is a lot of hand-waving, faces turning red in anger, finally ending with the owner throwing himself over the Red Robin merchandise with a protective little snarl.

Tim reels back and punches him in the face.

"Oh shit," Steph sighs, running towards the both as the owner is quick to tackle Tim. The Waynes find it odd that they must show off their bat training to break the two apart.

And that's how the Waynes get on the front cover of almost all media coverage that tells the story of Danny Fenton (Wayne). Bruce's second secret love child with a married woman (Jack and Maddie had briefly opened up about their marriage back then, so neither was mad) and who had met his biological father after a public fight with his adoptive brother.

Danny would like to go on record as saying that he was unaware of why Tim cared so much that he saw a fantastic business opportunity and took it. It's not like Batman could challenge his copyrights, and if the crimefighter came for his kneecaps over it, he would find himself against the Ghost King.

True the Ghost King in name only, but the Bat didn't know that.

Danny will be honest if asked how he felt about finding out Bruce Wayne is his father. He already knew. When he was around twelve, his parents sat him down and told him. It was how his dad explained where babies came from, the genuine Welcome To Puberty! Talk and what open marriages meant—which was as horrific as it sounds—and they never bothered with it again.

Because Jack Fenton had been the one to raise Danny, he had been the one who held him after his mom gave birth and had been the one who loved him with all his heart despite not being blood-related.

He had a bigger reaction to having to fist-fight Tim Drake over the fact he made Red Robin the official LGBT+ member of the Bat family because he is bi, no matter how much Tim insists Red Robin was straight.

It sounds to him like Tim is deep in the closet and in denial. Bisexual Red Robin forever!

[benevolentbones]

newcomer | spencer reid x fem!reader part 2

part 1

warnings: swearing, v mild dirty thoughts

word count: 1.3k

summary: your dad calls you on your day off

a/n: thank you so so much for all the support on my last few works, it means the world!! i love reading through all the comments! please if you have a fic request please let me know!!

it had been a few days since you dropped in to visit your dad at the bau, but your mind kept wandering back to the hazel eyed man you met.

you found his awkwardness quite adorable, and the way his face flushed when you spoke to him, made you smile.

you had heard a lot about the team over the years, so it was nice to put faces to names after your father had returned home that evening.

today was your day off, and you didn’t really have many plans, maybe you’d go and grab a coffee or take a walk around the park, who knows.

you stretched back against the plush sofa in your living room, flicking through the channels on your tv.

your phone began to chime, blasting out your ringtone. you picked it up on third ring, bringing it to your ear.

“hello?”

“y/n, are you at home?” your father questioned.

“yeah dad- i’m just watching tv at the moment, what’s up?” you sat up, scooting to the edge of the couch.

“can you do me a huge favour?”

you hummed in response “what is it?”

“in my home office, i left the latest case files- would you come to the bureau and drop them off?”

you chewed your bottom lip. on one hand, you didn’t really want to drive thirty minutes to and from your dads work, just to be there for less than five minutes. on the other, those five minutes could be spent talking or spencer reid.

“i’ll be there soon, dad.” you replied, hanging up the phone.

~

you practically raced to the bureau, cutting the usual thirty plus minute drive down to twenty three. a new record.

you clutched the case files to your side, making your way inside the building and making a b line for the bullpen.

morgan, garcia and reid were all sat around spencer’s desk, the younger man rambling on about the book he had just finished reading, which was a recommendation from penelope.

“honestly the plot could have been better- and i didn’t really like the-“ spencer was interrupted with a dig from morgan, whos eyes were glued to the elevator doors of the bullpen.

“why’d you do that ow.” spencer complained, rubbing the aching spot on his forearm. he turned his gaze to where both morgan and garcia were looking.

and there you stood. you had just stepped out of the elevator, you weren’t in the same office attire you had adorned the last time you visited the bau.

you were wearing a tight pair of black jeans that flared slightly at the leg, with a striped button down fitted shirt which rode up slightly, showing off part of your midriff.

“damn little gideon is mad fine.” morgan mumbled earning a quizzical look from spencer.

“little gideon- ew is that what you’re calling her?” penelope’s face contorted into one of disgust.

“i mean, you aren’t wrong..” she added, the blonde woman was practically undressing you with her eyes.

“guys come on- that’s a bit much don’t you think?” spencer mumbled, though his eyes did not once leave your form as you walked across the room towards gideon’s office.

“you’re just saying that because you like her, ain’t that right lover boy?” morgan cracked a smile, smacking spencer on the shoulder.

“shut up man..”

“do you really think gideon would want you dating his daughter?” derek mused.

“i mean anything is better than you..” spencer mumbled jokingly.

you reached your fathers office, balancing the files in one arm while using the other to knock against the oakwood door.

“come in.”

you pushed the door open, to reveal gideon leaning back in his desk chair, case files spread across the table. he had a telephone pressed in between his ear and his shoulder.

“hey dad- i brought the files you needed.” you smiled, shuffling over to his desk and plopping the bundle of papers onto his cluttered work space.

“thanks hon, you want to wait outside? i’ll be done in a few minutes and we can grab a coffee?”

you nodded, allowing gideon to continue his phone call. you backed out of his office, walking down the steps into the main section of the bullpen.

you scanned the room, your eyes landing on the three agents huddled around spencer’s desk.

you plucked up the courage and began to saunter over to them.

“hey reid look.” penelope whispered just loud enough for spencer to hear, immediately his head shot up, his gaze softening when he realised you were making your way over to him.

“good luck tiger.” morgan grinned, both he and garcia leaving the premises upon your arrival, after giving you a small smile.

“hey dr. reid right?” you mumbled once you reached his desk.

his eyes met yours, through his wire-framed glasses, and he nodded.

“yeah- you can call me spencer though- you’re y/n? gideon’s daughter?” he stumbled upon his words, rushing the sentences together.

you hummed in response, perching yourself against the genius’ desk.

“he’s told me a lot about you.”

“all good things i hope-“ spencer began, a slight nervousness to his voice.

this made you chuckle, “yes, all good things, i promise.”

“i hope you don’t mind keeping me company, i’m just waiting for dad to get off of the phone.” you eyed spencer, watching as he frantically neatened his desk.

“no-no not at all, i’m enjoying your company.” he mumbled out.

from the corner of his eye he could see morgan and garcia watching their interaction from the kitchenette, morgan had a cocky grin plastered onto his face and garcia held her thumbs up supportively.

spencer let out a breathy sigh, slumping down into his desk chair. he pondered for a moment, considering being forward. he didn’t want to come across as too needy or awkward, but if he was being honest with himself that’s exactly what he was.

he watched as you sat on the edge of his desk, happily swinging you legs back and forth, glancing around the bullpen.

fuck it.

“y/n?” spencer began, not being able to stop the crimson staining his cheeks.

“spencer.” you giggled.

“would you, i don’t know maybe like to go for dinner sometime- with..me?” you could sense the anxiety in his voice, the brunette avoiding your gaze as he fumbled with a pen on his desk.

you felt your cheeks heat up, and you reached over to place a hand on spencer’s arm. his eyes flickered up to look at you when he felt your touch.

“i would love to, let me give you my number.” you smiled happily, jumping from the desk.

you took the pen from spencer’s grasp, your fingers brushing against his causing a spark from the contact.

you picked up a pad of sticky notes and began scribbling down your number.

as you were doing so, gideon had left his office and was making his way towards the two of you.

“here, i’m free friday if you are.” you mumbled, passing him the paper and pen back.

“o-okay i’ll call you.” spencer’s eyes were now on gideon who had come to an abrupt stop, resting his hand on your shoulder.

“lets get going, kid.”

you nodded, shooting spencer a smile. “i’ll see you soon, dr. reid.”

and with that you had walked on ahead, gideon bringing his arms into a folded position in front of his chest.

spencer swallowed hard, feeling beads of sweat build up on his forehead.

“you want to take my daughter out?”

“uh yes, yes sir-“

agent gideon pondered for a moment, eyeing the younger man. he had worked with him for a few years, he trusted him to be sensible with you, and out of everyone he was probably the best pick.

“better you than morgan.” gideon shrugged, and with that comment he followed you out the door.

[lushaletta]

the lamb and her wolf / tom riddle

pairing: tom riddle x fem!reader

content: muggleborn!reader, tom is goin a lil mad

summary: have you fallen into the dark lord’s trap, or has he fallen into yours?

a/n: i wrote this at 4 in the morning so enjoy this stream of consciousness grumpy x sunshine esque tom riddle fanfiction or something.

⋆ ࣪.  ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖࣪ ˖࣪ ∗

Tom is in a frenzy of sorts, he’s concluded.

Perhaps it is the sleepless nights and stressful days that cloud his weeks that are causing the weird feeling in his chest. Insomnia-induced hysteria.

There’s a flurry of thoughts swirling around his head recently. All with a common theme; you. The space in his brain that he typically reserved for Ancient Runes or Arithmancy was now composed of you, you, and only you.

It makes him sick to his stomach.

He’s unfocused. And he can’t be, because he’s supposed to be working on the secret that Salazar Slytherin hid in the deep crevices of Hogwarts some years ago.

His fingers tap on the book that he can’t seem to pay attention to as he tries to make sense of this. The disgusting, awful, pleasant fondness he feels for you. For a Muggleborn girl no less.

The only solution to his problem is to kill you. It wouldn’t be hard, he thinks. You’re small and meek and all too trusting of him. Like a lamb to the slaughter.

You are a symbol of everything he despises. Joy. Innocence. You are of the same kind as his worthless father. So why is it that he can’t bring himself to end you? To end your time together? He’s done it before. He’s done it plenty of times and without a second thought.

“Tom!” your horrible, beautiful voice cheers, snapping him out of his thoughts. Oh, great, he thinks. You plague his mind and now you bedevil his reality.

“Hello,” he says after a beat.

You ignore his bothered expression and smile. “I’ve brought snacks! You do like mince pie, don’t you?” He nods weakly. “Good, because my mam’s had some sent. She’s trying out a new recipe. Secret ingredient or something like that. I’m sure you haven’t eaten yet, with your inane study habits, I mean, do you ever have breaks?” You ramble on and he listens with fascination. How could you be talking to him so casually? So endearingly?

You’re far from done. “It doesn’t matter, though. You’ll have a break now. Go on, put your book away, would you?” He does as told. He’s not sure why. You take a seat at his table, fumbling with the paper bag you’ve brought. “Aha! Mince pie! One for each of us. Tell me if you like it, I’ll have Mam send some more. She’d be delighted.”

It’s at this point, where he’s chewing on warm minced pie and watching you do the same, nodding contentedly, that he wonders which life decisions he’d made led up to this. He’s the Dark Lord. A name that the world will soon fear. If all goes to plan, you’ll be reading in terror of all the vile things he’s done in the paper. You’ll be afraid of him, and he can’t help dread it. He dreads the thought of your heartbroken eyes as you realise what a wicked person you’d extended your kindness to.

It’s the frenzy again. What is he even thinking? He dreaded nothing. He looked at his plans with excitement.

“Tom? Hellooo,” you say, singsongingly. He didn’t even realise you’d been speaking. He glances up at you and imagines what you’d think of him once the truth comes out.

“Yes?”

“What do you think? About the pie, I mean.”

He clears his throat, fingers gripping the armrest of his seat. “Good. It’s good.” That draws another pretty smile out of you and he really hates the way it made him feel. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome! Also, Tommy,” He quirks his brow. The nickname was a slip of the tongue. You’d never used it and it made you nervous, but he didn’t seem to mind so much. “Are you busy later? I need some help with Transfiguration.”

He’s always busy. Well, he should be. He’s been slacking recently, too preoccupied with your freshly baked desserts and strawberry-smelling hair.

“I could make time for that,” he says decidedly.

Idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot.

You’re immediately on your feet, giddy like how he’d imagine a child to be upon receiving candy. “Thank you! Oh, you’re a lifesaver, truly!” you say, and suddenly a kiss is planted on his cheek.

A full stop. His world pauses and spins on its axis. Your lips felt good. Bad.

What an evil, evil wolf he was.

[imfromthemiddlekingdom]

I don’t understand the fandoms love for Daemon, by all rights he should be as hated as Joffrey was. Not only did he do almost everything Joffrey did, he also did worse. Even Tywin wouldn’t hold a candle to his cruelty. I understand liking a villainous character, I do too with Cersei and Tywin, but I’ve never went out of my way to whitewash their characters. I love them because they are villainous and practically irredeemable, if team black stans liked Daemon for his villainous actions before and during the Dance of Dragons I wouldn’t have any problems with it. But the fact that they go out of their way to defend him killing Rhea Royce because “he was forced into a marriage he didn’t like!!!!” As if she wasn’t too. And the fact that they defend him sending Blood and Cheese to psychologically torture Haelena and kill Jaehaerys due to “a son for a son it’s only right” when they despise Alicents moment of madness when her son was denied justice, makes me want to hurl.

It’s alright to like villainous characters, it doesn’t make you a bad person if you like them. But you know what makes you a moronic person? Whitewashing everything that makes a character compelling because you want to like them without seeming like a ‘bad person’. Your opinion on a character does not determine your own morality, it doesn’t make you better or worse than someone who hates them. But what it does, when you erase their entire identity as a rouge to make them more palatable to you, is make you seem moronic, stupid, and lacking any critical thinking and reading comprehension skills.

Rhaenyra is a compelling character because she is entitled and spoiled and lacks any political experience, she shows how badly Viserys fucked up when he tried to compensate for his guilt of murdering Aemma. Alicent is a compelling character because she is a mother who is trying her best to protect her children from the reality that if Daemon took the throne for Rhaenyra, he would kill all of them because they are a threat. She is even more of a compelling character in the books because of her ambition and cunning and want for her family to rise far above the ‘station’ of being a noble house in the Reach (as if house Hightower aren’t the oldest house in Westeros who could trace their lineage back to both the Garth Greenhand the high king of the first men and the Andal Kings that came afterwards). Daemon, for all that I dislike him as a character, is compelling for his ruthlessness and shortsightedness in his pursuit of the throne. He didn’t raise an army for Viserys because he thought he was a competent leader, he did it because it raised his own standing within Westeros, he groomed Rhaenyra not because he loved her, but because having him in her good graces means that he stood a better chance of being king after she was named heir. His ruthlessness is compelling. Taking it away to make him into a ‘malewife’ or a ‘loving father’ or a man who is lacking any ambition beyond wanting a valyrian wife is taking away his agency. It makes him seem like a Gary Sue who only wants the throne because his brother said Rhaenyra was heir. It makes it so that he is so completely white bread like that not even I, someone who loved the more morally bankrupt characters in ASOIAF can find him agreeable in any way shape or form.

Daemon is a fundamentally morally bankrupt character and he should stay that way. If you like him you should acknowledge and accept that he is one of the ‘bad guys’. Just as Cersei fans acknowledge and accept that she is fundamentally a morally bankrupt person who is selfish to the extreme. We like morally black characters because they are morally black. To make excuses for their actions is to take away their agency which makes them unlikable and very hate-able.

Daemons actions aren’t justifiable, blood and cheese would never be justified. A son for a son is akin to the visceral disgust the fandom had to Alicent when she asked for Lucerys’ eye, yet I bet when season two comes out and Blood and Cheese happens we’d see Daemon fans applauding and trying to justify it as ‘not that bad’ and ‘team green deserved it because of Aemond’s actions’ when little Jaehaerys, a boy of 6, was as far removed from the incident as can be. It would be akin to Team Green saying that due to Jaehaerys’ death, Aegon III or Viserys II deserved to have their head cut off in front of Rhaenyra.

Let morally bankrupt characters be morally bankrupt. You aren’t morally bankrupt because you like said character, it’s a fictional story loosely based on Empress Matilda. It’s not that deep. Like the characters you like without trying to justify their actions. They might be monstrous but you aren’t because you like them. It’s not a measure of your own character because you like said character. But it is a measure of your intelligence when you try to change said character’s entire personality to make it so that they are more digestible to you and everyone else.

[zepskies]

The Old-Fashioned Way

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: You and Dean are having trouble trying to start a family. What happens when you turn to a spell for a possible solution? [Soulmate AU]

AN: Happy Valentine's Day! ❣️ Welcome back to the Never Say Goodbye-verse, my first ever Soulmate AU! Feels appropriate to celebrate today with some soulmates lol.

Honestly, I have really missed these two. I can’t believe it’s almost been a year since I wrote this series! And I’ve been wanting to find a way to come back to it, so when I recently got this request, I couldn't resist:

The reader finds out she is pregnant and Dean’s reaction.

But of course, I couldn’t make it that simple… This story takes place five years after the Bonus Tracks (3-part sequel).

Word Count: 5,000

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship (marriage). Soulmates, angst, issues in pregnancy, hurt/comfort, fluff, implied smut.

❤️ Series Masterlist

Today marked five years that Dean had been an officer of the Sioux Falls Police Department.

After twenty-eight odd years of committing felonies of varying degrees…mostly for the greater good, he still found it strange sometimes.

He’d been partnered with his father-in-law, Jack, and by now, Dean had finally lost his sense of “imposter syndrome.”

Jody bought him a pie to commemorate the occasion, and while a little embarrassed, he wasn’t mad about it. The precinct employees now shared the dessert on paper plates from their respective desks and cubicles.

Dean sat in the bullpen with Jack (who was on a call), Jody, and even Jessie Deluca, the boy he’d once arrested for stealing candy and groceries from a gas station.

Well, Jessie wasn’t such a kid anymore. He was now their 18-year-old intern.

“How’s the boysenberry?” Jody asked Dean. Her lips curved upward when he turned to her with a crumb-covered smile. 

“Real good,” he said.

She couldn’t help but laugh a little. “I can’t with this. Come ‘ere.”

She grabbed a napkin and leaned over to wipe at his mouth the way a mother would her errant child. Dean just rolled his eyes.

“Really?” he snipped.

“You look like my five-year-old son after a round of SpaghettiOs,” she said.

“Makes you wonder how his wife deals with him,” Jessie muttered under his breath while he entered expense reports into his computer. Never mind that he had a purple berry stain around the corner of his mouth.

Dean shot him a wry look, along with his crumpled napkin.

“I don’t wanna hear that from a punk like you,” he teased. “You haven’t had a girlfriend since…what, junior prom?”

Jessie fended off the stained napkin with a grimace. But he also smarted at the dig. His arms crossed defensively as he leaned back in his chair.

“As a matter a fact, I’ve got a date on Friday,” he sniffed. “And no, I’m not telling you her name.”

Dean and Jody shared an amused look.

“Aww, look at him, pretending he’s got a date,” Dean said. He fought a deeper grin when Jessie threw the disgusting napkin back at him.

“Fine! Her name’s Annie. You happy now?” Jessie said.

Dean shared another look with Jody.

“Aww, he’s actually got a date,” said Dean. He smirked at the kid next. “Lemme know if you need to borrow some cologne. Chicks dig that.”

“Ugh,” Jessie groaned. He leaned his elbows on his desk and pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes. He knew he’d be catching flack on this for the rest of the week.

Dean chuckled, but before he had a chance to tease their intern some more, his cell phone rang. It was you, and he felt his good mood continue as he answered.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hey, how’s the day going?” you asked.

“Good,” he replied. “We’re on lunch break. Jody got me a pie for my five-year mark at the PD.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet…literally. She knows you too well,” you laughed.

He nodded in agreement. “Yeah, she really does.”

“Tell her and everyone else I said hi.”

“Will do,” he said with a smile. “You just callin’ to check up on me?”

“Well, that, and…when are you getting home tonight?” you asked. The smooth, leading note of your voice had Dean’s lips curving into a smirk.

“Ah, well…” He pushed away from his desk and stepped away from the bullpen for a little privacy in the hall. “That depends. What’s going on?”

“Let’s just say…I have an idea,” you replied. It had Dean’s brows raising. You’d been having a lot of ideas for the past year, and he’d been more than ready and willing for most of them.

“Oh, yeah?” he intoned. While he leaned against the wall in the main hallway of the precinct, his arm crossed under his elbow as he continued holding the phone to his ear. “What’d you have in mind?”

“You’ll just have to find out,” you said.

It only took his brain about a moment and a half to compute.

“All right. In that case, I’ll try to be home promptly at six, barring there’s no shootouts at the 7-Eleven,” he quipped.

“Ugh, please, don’t even joke about that,” you said, your tone sobering.

Dean realized, without even having to read his soulmate’s thoughts, that you were reminded of the last time an explosive incident happened at the local gas station, just two weeks before their wedding day. He dimmed as well. 

“Yeah, ‘m sorry,” he said, swiping a hand over his mouth. “Uh…okay. I’ll see you tonight, sweetheart.”

“Okay, be careful,” you said. You always said it—in the morning, whenever he left for work, whenever you two managed to talk during the day. It was routine, but it also wasn’t. 

And you still wished him a good rest of his day before you hung up. Dean pocketed his phone and returned to the bullpen, where Jody was putting away the rest of the pie. He eyed her just to know exactly where she was setting it down in the kitchen, for future reference.

Jessie peered up from his computer and asked if that was you on the phone.

“Yeah, she says hi,” Dean replied.

Jessie smirked. “‘Course she does. I’m her favorite.”

Dean shot him a look, knowing the kid liked you probably even more than he liked Dean. You’d become like a big sister to Jessie…but it didn’t stop Dean from occasionally being annoyed. 

“Shut up and eat your pie.”

Dean arrived that night, more or less on time, to find that you’d cooked up a feast. It was laid out across the dining table: steak, scalloped potatoes, carrots and broccoli, and even freshly baked cornbread with butter. 

“Is it my birthday again?” he asked, despite it already being February. 

He ventured into the kitchen where you were getting two bottles of beer. You looked up at him with a smile when he came over and held you from behind. You enjoyed the warmth of his body pressed against your back, while his hands found your hips.

“I cook all the time, Dean,” you pointed out. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head in greeting.

“Hmm. Yeah, but now my spidey senses are tingling,” he said.

You set down the beer before turning in his embrace and twining your arms around his neck. Already he could feel your anticipation through the soul bond, but that was all you were letting him sense. You were keeping your walls up a bit, to stop him from hearing your thoughts. In this case, it felt like a tease.

You tilted your head, a smile playing across your lips. “Oh, yeah?”

Dean smirked down at you. “Oh, yeah.”

You laughed and let him greet you properly with a kiss. You returned it, affectionately caressing his cheek, but you stopped him before he could start pressing you harder into the counter. You held up a placating hand against his chest.

“Wait, wait, the food’s gonna get cold,” you said. And all too quickly, you’d extricated yourself from his arms and went to finish placing the silverware on the table. Dean begrudgingly followed suit by helping you with the glasses and plates.

Dinner was delicious. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a steak that good; you two had been scrounging and saving to get out of this apartment and buy a house, along with other things you and Dean had been planning for your future.

By the time the leftovers were put away and the dishes were put in the dishwasher, he started to sense that you were ready to come around with the real reason you’d called him at work today, let alone made such a nice and expensive meal. You went over to where he stood at the kitchen sink and rubbed his arm.

“Hey,” you greeted.

Dean tried to stifle his knowing smile. “Yeah?”

But when he looked over at you, he realized you seemed nervous, not flirtatious. You were serious, and now, he was concerned.

“What?” he asked.

You sighed, hesitating for a moment. Then you went over to a nearby drawer and got some rubber gloves you always kept at work and at home—the kind doctors wore.

You went for your large work bag that normally stored your laptop and files, and instead, you pulled out an old book. Dean’s brows raised of their own accord, considering the last time you accidentally trifled with a book like that.

“What the hell is that?” he asked, with some trepidation. You laid the book out on the kitchen counter.

“It’s a journal of some kind, written in Latin, dating back from the late 1500s. Can you believe that?” Your head raised from where you were examining the cover and spine, but Dean was incredulous.

“What’re you doing with that?” he asked. Your lips pursed, and he felt a tendril of your guilt.

Most likely, you’d taken it from the museum where you worked without permission. You were in charge of the growing library of ancient texts that were stored there, and most of them were too old and valuable for exhibition, even behind glass. He doubted you were even allowed to open this book, let alone “borrow” it from the museum.

You sighed and held up a placating hand. “Okay, Dean, just hear me out.”

You opened the book to a page you’d placed a strip of paper in for bookmarking purposes. You pointed at a page filled with scrawled words that Dean didn’t really understand. Sam was always better at reading Latin.

“That is a fertility spell,” you said.

The weight of that fell between you for a moment, rendering Dean speechless. It took a few seconds for his brain to register what you were saying, followed quickly by a sad, contemplative frown as he stared back at you. You were serious about this, even hopeful. 

“Sweetheart, we don’t need that,” he said, shaking his head. Your expression firmed, though it became touched with melancholy.

“It’s been a year, Dean,” you said. “We’ve been trying for a year, and I’m still not pregnant.”

He blew out a breath. “The doctor said—”

“We’ve done everything the doctor said,” you snapped. “Fertility treatments are either going to take too long or are too expensive, and they still carry risks.”

“And this isn’t a risk?” Dean shot back, gesturing at the book. “You don’t know if this will work, or what the hell it’ll really do to you.”

Your brows furrowed, but you didn’t back down. You held your hands to your hips.

“Uncle Bobby said it’s legit,” you said. Dean blinked in surprise. He shifted back on his heels and crossed his arms.

“You ran this by Bobby before me?” he said. You could feel the small lance of his upset, as well as see it across his face.

You bit the inside of your lip. “I just wanted to make sure!”

Dean took in a deep breath. He mentally counted to five.

“What exactly did he say?” he asked.

You paused at that. “…Well, he said it was a real spell.”

His brows rose. “And?”

“And…that magic is unpredictable and we should talk about it first. But that’s why we’re talking now!” you reasoned. 

Your husband’s gaze lifted heavenward as he threw up his hands in aggravation.

“Dean—” you tried, but it didn’t stop him from snatching up the book. Despite your protests, he took it with him into the master bedroom you shared and shoved the book into his nightstand. You had followed him this far, but you stopped short when he turned around to face you.

“I will check this out,” he said, and his tone boded no argument. “But for the record, I’m against this. Magic is unpredictable at best, and not for nothing, it always comes at a price. I’ll be damned if you’re gonna pay it again.”

You paused. Hearing the vehemence in his tone, feeling the force of emotion behind his words, and your own circling memories of being possessed by a magic-wielding goddess…it had you nodding in agreement, even as tears welled up in your eyes.

Dean faltered a little inside. Always the damn tears. He gathered you into his arms and held you close in comfort. He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“We’ll figure this out. I promise,” he said.

You tried to believe him.

Late that night, however, you couldn’t help yourself.

Once you were sure Dean was asleep beside you, hearing his deep, even breaths, you made your move. Dressed in just an old college shirt and some pajama shorts, you slid out of bed and tiptoed over to his nightstand to get the book.

You took it into the kitchen and started assembling the ingredients Bobby had reluctantly helped you translate. (He didn’t know that you had taken a couple of items from his house for the spell.) 

You prepared them in a bowl. The resulting liquid looked brown and disgusting. You mixed it around, grimacing at the smell, and carefully poured it into a glass. The last thing the spell required was a few drops of your blood, and then you were supposed to drink it. 

God, this is terrible, you thought. Part of you couldn’t believe you were going through with this, but…you grabbed a kitchen knife in order to make a shallow cut on your palm. 

The steel was poised against your hand. You took a fortifying breath, but before you could cut into your skin, Dean grabbed your wrist with a strong grip, startling a gasp out of you.

“What the hell are you doing?!” he said, or more like shouted. He was irate, his voice bounding off the walls of the apartment.

You knew he had every right to be, and you didn’t have a good answer for him. Shock had stifled you into silence.

Dean let go of you and took the glass next. He peered in disgust at the concoction inside, but he quickly dumped it into the sink and ignored your protests. He threatened to burn the damn book next.

“Dean, stop! Please,” you said tearfully as you stilled his hands on the book. “If there’s some kind of price to the spell, I’ll pay it!”

“What’re you talking about! Are you crazy?” he asked, through furrowed brows. You squeezed his hands.

“Believe me, I love what we have. I love our life, my job, all of it,” you said. “But I want a family, and I want it with you.”

Dean started to soften at that, when you met his eyes. You paused, taking in a shaky breath.

“It should be simple, but it’s not," you said. "I just can’t understand why it’s so impossible. Why…why there’s something wrong with me.”

Dean’s anger broke down, bit by bit the more you spoke. He let go of the book and reached for you. He held you against his chest, rubbing your back as you quietly wept. You tried to stifle it, but that just made your body tremble even more. He did his best to steady you, rocking you back and forth. His eyes closed for a moment.

You both knew that the expensive fertility doctor hadn’t found anything wrong with either of you, even after a month of testing.

“In certain cases, it just takes longer for some couples,” she’d said. But clearly, you had just been blaming yourself. Dean couldn’t abide that.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said firmly. “Believe me, I want that too. But I also want to make sure you’re safe.”

Emotion clogged in his throat when he thought about what might’ve happened if he hadn’t stopped you. And in turn, you sobered even more when you managed to pick up on his thoughts.

“If something would’ve happened, and I was too late to stop it,” he said, clearing his throat. “…I just can’t, okay?”

After a moment, you nodded. You allowed yourself to rest against his chest and try to calm the racing of your heart. All the while, you tried your best not to resent him for stopping you.

The next day was a Saturday. You slept in because your body needed it, after the stress of last night. When you woke up, Dean wasn’t beside you. His keys and the Impala were gone, but he’d left you a text: he’d gone to your uncle Bobby’s place. 

And you saw that he’d taken the book as well. Predictable. 

You felt bad for how you tried to go behind your husband’s back, but if you were honest with yourself, you were still upset at him for stopping you, even if you understood why he did it. 

You sat on the edge of your bed. Not for the first time since you and Dean were separated by miles of roads and his family’s mission to find the thing that killed his mother, you found yourself praying. 

Please, God…or if there’s even anyone up there…please help me.

For a while, there was silence in the room. 

But even if your eyes were open, you wouldn’t have seen the being that was standing in front of you. He stared down at you with a tilted head, finding himself a bit too curious. Hesitantly, he reached his hand out and touched your forehead. 

You didn’t completely register the feeling that washed over you. It was like the tingling of a breeze across your skin. You took it for a chill in the room as you shivered a little. Then you opened your eyes, and resigned yourself to starting your day. 

Castiel left the room with but a thought and a flutter of wings. 

He knew he was only supposed to observe Michael’s vessel, not his soulmate. And yet, with one touch, he had sensed the rare genetic defect your doctor had missed.

Your mother had unknowingly suffered the condition as well. Your father never told you this, but she’d nearly lost you in the early stages of her pregnancy. It had been a miracle that you were born at all. 

Castiel fixed the problem. 

He knew what Uriel, or even Naomi would say. Perhaps they didn’t need to know, in this case. They were both far too busy for worldly trifles. Even so, Castiel knew he wasn’t authorized to heal you.

Still, it felt…right. And so, he did it. 

It confused him.

…Maybe it isn’t something to be closely examined, he thought.

With that agreement within himself, he resolved to leave that decision behind him, and continue watching from afar. Those were his orders, after all.

Visiting Bobby Singer wasn’t as productive as Dean wanted it to be. The men had been arguing in Bobby’s living room for close to an hour.

Dean was upset with him for translating that goddamn spell for you, but the old man didn’t have a good answer. They both knew you were like a daughter to him.

“She came in hot, all damn stubborn and sass up to here,” Bobby said, holding a hand up to his forehead. “But you try sayin’ no when the waterworks starts.”

…Dean could concede that, but he rubbed his face in frustration. 

“What do I do here, Bobby?” he asked, holding up the spell book in question. Apparently, it was more like a journal; it was rumored to have belonged to a sixteenth-century witch named Rowena. “I don’t trust this thing. Deep in my gut, I know it.”

Bobby considered him for a moment. In fact, he gave Dean a long-suffering look that made him really see Bobby’s age. 

“Then trust your gut, son,” was all he said. 

Dean returned home with a peace offering: some apple crumble pie. You were lying on the sofa watching mindless TV, still in your pajamas. Your mental walls were down, so Dean could both see and feel how miserable you were. 

He took out the pie from the small bag of groceries he carried and held it up so you could see.

“I come bearing sugar,” he said. He also set down a bottle of wine on the dining table. You were focused on the pie, however.

“Who’s that for, me or you?” you dryly remarked. 

“I got ice cream too,” he said, shaking the grocery bag. 

You smiled a little, but he could feel through the bond that you were still sour at him. He sighed and went over to you. He set down the bribery on the coffee table and settled a hand on your pajama-clad thigh. 

“Sweetheart, I am sorry.” 

Sighing, you turned off the TV and sat up against the other end of the couch. You eyed him with a frown.

“You’re not sorry about chucking the spell,” you accused. Or for stealing the book you’d eventually have to bring back to work, lest your boss notice something amiss in the inventory.

“No, I’m not,” said Dean. “It was dangerous. I felt it. And that gut feeling? That’s what’s saved me more times than I can damn count.” 

You were still upset, you couldn’t deny…but you understood his point. When he beckoned you over, you were more willing to go to him. After you scooted closer, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Look, I’ll go to whatever doctors you want, try whatever treatments, however long it takes,” he said.

You sighed, but you eventually agreed with a teary nod. “Okay. Thank you.”

Even with that, Dean wasn’t convinced that he was getting through to you. He was picking up on a thread of hopelessness that you were trying to hide.

He’d just have to change that.

“But…” He earned your attention by squeezing your side. His lips formed a grin. “I still think we can do this the old-fashioned way.”

He slowly rubbed a hand up and down your back. With the other hand, he reached for your face, tracing your lower lip with his thumb. You smiled slightly at his teasing. Part of you wanted to heed the suggestion in his eyes, and the familiar warmth and promise in his touch. The other, more vulnerable part of you hesitated.

When you caught sight of something over his shoulder, you had to smile a little more.

“I see you got a bottle of Merlot,” you said. A notable upgrade from beer. You couldn’t remember the last time Dean had willingly bought some “bougie-ass” wine.

“A little pie, a little booze…” you noted.

Dean grinned. “I’m thinking we have a not-so-quiet night in.”

Your brows rose, and you hummed in surprise. “Is my husband trying to butter me up?”

“Nah,” he said, tilting your face back up to his. “Your husband’s trying to seduce you.”  

You giggled at that…at first. But it seemed he was serious.

You accepted his passionate kiss. Closing your eyes, you reached blindly for his shirt and held on while his lips moved ardently against yours. Through the bond, you felt his desire like it was your own.

In the five years you’d been married, and the years you were together even before, there were often moments where it was impossible to discern what was him and what was you. 

The beautiful thing about it was, that part didn’t matter too much. Especially not when you and Dean became a tangle of limbs, lips, and tongue on the couch. He ridded you of your threadbare pajamas, and you helped him halfway out of his shirt and jeans before he yanked the rest of it off himself.

And all while he drew lusty moans and sighs and pleasure from your body in the comfort of your living room, the ice cream slowly melted in its container on the coffee table—completely forgotten, along with the pie.

That night, you lied awake in his arms for a while. Round one on the couch had migrated to rounds two and three in the bedroom, and you were almost too exhausted to sleep. 

It had been months since you and Dean had sex without thinking of calendars and timing, optimal positions and ovulation.

This felt right, you thought, as you stroked his arm that was wrapped around your waist. Even though your skin was sticking to his under the sheets and your frizzy hair was probably tickling his neck, he didn’t seem to mind.

Dean? you tried through the bond, seeing if he was awake. He felt like he was still in-between wakefulness and sleep. At your prodding though, he slipped back into the former. 

“Hmm?” he replied. You let out a sigh in the dark. 

“I’m sorry I kind of tried to take matters into my own hands, with the spell.”

He hmphed in response. “Kinda?”

Your lips twitched upwards. 

“This is a ‘together’ thing,” you said. “I made it all about me.”

Dean shook his head at that. He responded through the bond. No, you didn’t.

I did, you insisted. You were right to stop me. I didn’t care about the consequences…but that’s not fair to you. To either of us.

He took that in with a deep sigh of his own.

“It’s okay. We want the same thing,” he said. “And we’ll get there, baby. Don’t you worry.”

“What makes you so sure?” you asked.

“…I don’t know. I just am.”

You closed your eyes, and once again, you tried to believe him. You let his heartbeat and the sound of his steady breathing lull you to sleep. 

Nine weeks later…

You were alone in the bathroom at seven in the morning. After almost a month late on your period, you were also staring at two positive lines on your last pregnancy test. 

Ho…ly…shit.

Dean was already at work. This wasn’t something you wanted to tell him over the phone, however. 

How the hell am I supposed to keep this from him all day? you thought.

But then again, maybe this was a good thing. You had time to make sure.

So you called out of work for a personal day, and you immediately called your doctor on your way out to the closest pharmacy. You were going to need a few more tests. 

When Dean eventually got home that evening, there were two pizzas waiting for him. The smell was already making his mouth water. He peeked under the hood of each box and rubbed his hands together. 

“Ooh, awesome.” Pepperoni, sausage, and double cheese. His favorite.

You appeared then from the kitchen with a strange smile on your face. 

“Hey!” you chirped, but you seemed a bit distracted as you pulled out a sheet pan of cookies from the oven. You nearly dropped them when the corner of the pan banged against the oven. 

Something was off with you. Dean knew it intuitively. He went over and tried to steady you with a hand on the small of your back. He could see that you were frazzled, but he realized, with a frown, that you had your walls up again. He couldn’t pick up on what you were thinking.

“You okay?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

“Uh…well, something,” you nodded and wiped your hands after you peeled the oven mitts off. “And I need to tell you about it before I bake everything in the house, including the expired bran muffins.”

Dean was growing more concerned by the moment. He knew for a fact he’d hidden that bran muffin mix deep in the pantry, so you wouldn’t force him to eat a “healthy dessert.”

“Okay, what?” he asked.

You paused, steeling yourself with a breath.

You then took his hand and led him to the bedroom, into the adjoining bathroom. Across the entire counter were no less than seven pregnancy tests. 

All positive.

Dean’s breath caught in his lungs. Slowly he turned back to you with his widened eyes.

“Surprise?” you smiled, a little nervously. 

Dean grasped the counter and had to sit down hard on the closed toilet seat. 

“Yeah, I did that too,” you said. You couldn’t help but giggle as you caressed his face. He grabbed your hip, both to bring you closer and for added stability. You two had been trying to make this happen for over a year, but the gravity of this being real was finally hitting him. 

He stared up at your face with a growing smile. “This is happening.” 

You nodded, smiling through your burgeoning tears. 

“Yeah. It is,” you replied. “Dean, you’re gonna be a dad.”

That realization had him nodding, swallowing hard and blinking past a sting in his eyes. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you in between his knees. You threaded your fingers through his hair, and his head came to rest against your stomach. He pressed a kiss there, over your shirt. 

After a moment to gather himself, he rocked back onto his feet. Then he enveloped you in a secure and warm embrace. He kissed the side of your head, and you felt his smile there.

“We did it, baby,” he said.  

“And that was the easy part,” you quipped, making him laugh. Yet the holy shit of it all hit him in a new wave—one you felt through the bond. You had to take a deep breath to steady yourself as well.

“Oh my God, this is happening,” he repeated.

You uttered a tearful laugh. “Uh, yeah, Dean.”

He was still smiling, but it started to dim a little. 

“We’re ready, right?” he asked.

You chuckled, wiping at your eyes. “We better be.”

Dean nodded and pulled back enough to see your face. You met his gaze. Maybe you’d just had more time than him to process it all, but you finally felt a sense of peace.

“Together, right?” he said.

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Together.”

Dean let out a deep breath. “Shit, I gotta tell Sam.”

Your smile brightened and you squeezed his arms.

“Let’s call him!" you said. "Hopefully Eileen’s there too.”

The two had moved in together a couple of years ago, after Eileen officially retired from hunting. But she often had long shifts at her job, just like Sam did at the law firm he started working for after he graduated from law school, near the top of his class.  

While you and Dean went into the bedroom to call Sam together, an angel watched from a distance, unseen by human eyes.

He found himself smiling.

AN: Ahh I'm soft. 🥰 I hope you all enjoy this as much as I had fun diving back into Never Say Goodbye.

And I won't say that I'll never come back to it in the future...for obvious reasons. 😉

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Series + Dean Tag List (Part 1):

I did my best to get everyone who was tagged in the original run of the series first, then my normal Dean tag list.

@curlycarley @chubby-teddybear @jamerlynn @iprobablyshipit91 @globetrotter28 @deamus-liv @deans-spinster-witch @my-proof-is-you @vera0124 @deans-baby-momma @lacilou @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @theonlymaninthesky @spnexploration @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester @imagineteller1

@icequeen1371 @tiredqueen73 @bitchwitch1981 @abbigaleelizabeth @ohgodthebogisback @where-the-river-bends @loveprof6 @shadowcrowsworld @thespnlover @this-is-me19 @stevenknightmarc @leigh70 @syrma-sensei @brain-has-left

@hobby27 @ashbatz @saranghaey @jori21 @lillyrob @adoringanakin @agirlwithdemonblood @mimaria420 @nephil-with-a-gun @writethrough @iamsapphine @definitelymentallyderanged @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer

[catsteeth]

The Caged Bird & The Leashed Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 8 ✿:+ Moon Door.

1-2-3-4-5-6-7-_-9

Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it. 

CW: MDNI, NSFW themes, VIOLENCE, misogyny, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, mention of death, blood, threats of violence, mentions of arranged marriage, 

A/N: This is so late I'm so sorry yall- I was sick :-( 

Word Count: 3398

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧

You sat in a carriage as it rocked back and forth. You couldn’t help thinking of the first time you rode to Kings Landing with your father. And now you are going home. looked in front of you and saw the face of Petyr Baelish. That same twisted smirk he always had. 

You turned your face away from him quickly. You tried to lift the blind from the window of the carriage but Petyr stopped you, 

“Best you don’t, my Dear.” He said, his hand on yours, “If someone would see you they would turn you into the Lannisters.” You didn’t know which was worse, Lannisters or what scraps were left of your family in the Eyrie. 

You pulled your hand away from his, “The knights and guards of the Vale will know me.” You huffed.

“That may well be true, but that is why they have sworn themselves to our house.” You held back a disgusted frown at him, referring to your house as ‘Our House’, “They are sworn to keep you safe, even if that means to lie. To say they’ve no idea where you are.”

“Does Lyssa know I am coming.” You asked as you looked down at your hands in your lap, you picked at the skin around your nails.

“She knows I went looking for you, she knows I would only return with you.”  He grabbed hold of your hand. His consistent advances made you feel sick, but also, think of Sandor. Like what he’d have done if he saw this. “I would not have ceased my search for you til I found you.” 

“And how does she feel about that?” You asked, ignoring his advances.

“Should she not feel happy? Contented her husband wishes to see her own flesh and  blood safe?” He said with a smirk

“You see a particular side of Lyssa.” You said as you repositioned yourself uncomfortably in your seat.

“She has always been predisposed towards me.” You tried to conceal yet another disgusted expression, “It would be only fitting she saves her best self for me.”

“She's like a coin. One side is an entirely different being than the other.” That was true, she often switched from hot to cold within an instant. You always thought it was cause she was mad. It grew tiresome after some time.

“May I be curious? When you fled, what is it that you fled from, and what is it that you were fleeing to?” He asked, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.

“I fled my marriage. I was fleeing for my family.” Technically the last bit wasn’t a lie. Which made it easier for you to sound convincing. 

“I see, to tell you the truth, that only makes my curiosity greater. Ser Cole told me you were not… cooperative in his efforts to bring you to me.” You smiled to yourself, stabbing a knight is not what you’d call cooperative either. 

“I don’t trust so easily. Any man could dress in silver plates and tell me he’s a knight.” You said, “And truth be told I do not see you as family.” You said leaning back into the uncomfortable cushion of the carriage.

“And what do you see me as?” He asked, his grip on your hand tightening 

You ignored him. “I want to see my family. My mother and my brother.” Not technically a lie either, only not in the way he thinks.

“I wouldn’t think you’d wish to see Lyssa. After what you’d said.” His grip loosened,

“Our blood is our blood, our name is our name.” You said, with no emotion.

“I must admit that is not all I am curious about. You fled in the midst of a battle, a great war. Not one person saw you, not one knight. That is all without mentioning that you managed to flee without a scratch to you. Completely unharmed. It would seem almost impossible without help. Strong help.” He questioned you,

“Lika is a strong horse, and fast. And I, a skilled rider.” You responded quickly,

“So I hear.” He smirked.

“Now I must be curious.” You said, “You described Tyrion bereft, positively. In your words.” You perched your lips slightly and looked down, somewhat saddened by your own words.

“He is. I have no reason to lie to you on such a matter.” He said, his smirk disappearing. 

“Tell it then, all of it.” Your eyes are sharp, and cold.

“Why burden yourself with another man's madness.” He asked, almost immediately annoyed by the question.

“To torment myself with my own guilt I suppose.” You shook your head,

“He was injured in the battle.” He huffed.

“Badly?” You interrupted

“Not as badly as they say. Deeply cut across his face.” He motioned a slash across his face, “Day after the battle, he demanded the city be combed for you. He was convinced that you were taken by some Baratheon men, that you might be in the city. Dead or alive he wanted you found. Once the city was clear of any sign of you he became convinced you were kidnapped, soon to be held for ransom.” You looked back down to your nails you picked at. Feeling guilty, but not enough to go back. “You certainly convinced him of your loyalty.” He chimed in, “Or perhaps he underestimated you.” 

“Perhaps both.”

As you approached the Eyrie, you were stopped when it was time to walk to the Bloody Gate. 

Petyr stepped out first, offering you his hand as you stepped out after him. You took it reluctantly.

Reminding yourself to play the part. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Meanwhile, Sandor had been captured by the Brotherhood Without Banners. 

While he was taken to an undisclosed location with a bag over his head, he could hear the banter of the men talking. But the sounds of them could not drown out the anxiety he had over you. 

A big part of him wanted to push you out of his mind, to focus on what was happening right then and now. Focus on getting out of this situation. But he couldn’t ignore the pit of dread in his stomach. 

His thoughts kept coming, over and over again, “where is she, is she okay, has anyone seen her?” 

It made him feel a certain kind of frustrated anxiety, knowing he couldn’t be near you, to be sure you were alright.

He was finally taken to some filthy tavern with an even filthier bag on his head. 

“What an uncommonly large person, how does someone capture such an uncommonly large person?” He heard while he was blinded by the bag over his head, until it was stripped. “Ah! Not a man at all- A Hound!” Thoros said, a man Sandor recognized instantly. 

“Thoros, the fuck you doing here?” He questioned with furrowed brows. 

“Drinking and talking too much, the usual.” Thoros said drunk.

Another man who had captured Sandor spoke up, “There was another with him… A woman.” Sandors gaze dropped and went towards the man who spoke up, a soft groan leaving his lips. 

“You sure about that?” Thoros asked, taking another sip of his ale.

“Oh yes, no mistaking that.” The man said as the others snickered, making Sandor groan a little louder. He hated men talking about you, it made him want to break their jaw so they’d talk a little less.

“Your woman I’d assume, hard to believe but stranger things in this world.” Sandor rolled his eyes and groaned even louder. “Oh well, still a pretty prize, Lads!” Thoros shouted, making the men who captured him cheer.

Sandor saw two boys leaving the tavern, and behind them, a girl, the girl You loved so well and helped escape.

“Girl!” He shouted, stopping Arya Stark, “What in seven hells are you doing with a Stark bitch?” He questioned Thoros.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You had made it past the Bloody Gate, the Knights knew who you were even though Petyr introduced you as his niece, Lennora. They did not question you, and allowed you in. Ser Donnel Waynwood going as far to welcome you back as Lennora. 

After twenty more miles of travel, you’d finally arrived at the Eyrie. It felt like a small comfort at first. A sight you once truly believed you’d never see again. 

Stepping into the main room you noticed Lyssa seated on the throne. Seated where you should have been.

“Sweet child,” She called to you, rising from your throne “Come…” She said as ascended the stairs coming towards you, until she wrapped her arms around you. “My flesh and blood.” She said feigning happiness at your presence.

“Aunt Lyssa,” You said, feigning the same joy.

“You’re dressed in rags, my sweetling.” She said as she examined you, 

“Couldn’t stand to wear Lannister colors any longer.” You said cleverly, avoiding further questioning, distracting her with her own biases.

“Of course you couldn’t.” She gripped onto your shoulders tightly, “Those monsters tried to marry you off to that imp. The very one who killed my husband, your father.” Her grip on your shoulders tightened, “He did not force himself onto you did he?” Her eyes darted to yours, staring deepening and intensely in them.

“No- of course not. We had not wed yet-” You stammered to explain, caught off guard by such a question.

“Still, you cannot trust such men now can you?” She said, her grip loosening finally.

“No, you cannot.”  You said softly

Her hands ran from your shoulders to your hands, holding them tightly, “You’ve had a hard, and brave journey, my sweetling. You must bathe and dress.” She squeezed your hands once more before releasing them.

“Yes, Aunt Lyssa.” You said, slightly proud of yourself for containing such composure.

You nodded to your aunt and turned to leave, Petyr smirked at you as you passed him to take the back steps to your chambers. 

It made your stomach turn. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

In the hideout of the Brotherhood, Sandor was tried for his crimes. Trial by combat. 

As he fought, with brutality and efficiency, he could only think of you. He needed to cut this man down, to cut him down and get back to you. To find you. 

Soon enough however, he did. Nearly cutting the man in half. Lord Beric Dondarrion was dead, but only for a moment. 

As Arya shouted out and screamed, wanting him to be killed and tried for the murder of her friend.

Sandor couldn’t give this too much attention however as Beric arose from the dead before everyone. Within the cave. 

After such a scene, Sandor was pardoned and set free. 

“You’re pardoned, free to go. But all your gold is ours, to support the cause. It says it right there on that paper, once the wars over you’ll be repaid.” The man said, giving him paper pardoning him of his crimes.

“Piss on that! You’re nothing but thieves.” He barked loudly as he threw the paper onto the ground.

“We’re outlaws, you’re lucky we didn’t kill you, or go after that girl of yours.” Some man said, stupidly.

“Try it, archer, and I’ll shove those arrows right up your arse.” He said, his voice darkening. He couldn’t stand anyone speaking of you, even if they didn’t know who you were specifically. 

“You can’t let him go! He’s a murderer!” Arya screamed as Sandor’s head was bagged again as he was led out of the cave. 

“Not in the eyes of God. Go in peace Clegane, the Lord of Light is not done with you yet.” Beric said, as Sandor was led out. 

But Sandor did not go far. 

The sun had gone and the night had come. It dawned on him you could be anywhere. And he would have no way of knowing where. 

That was when he heard the brotherhood yelling out for Arya, and soon saw the girl running through the forest he was hiding in.

That’s when he realized, If he couldn’t find you on his own, he’d find another way, and he’d get some gold out of it as well.

He grabbed Arya as she ran away. Covering her mouth as she tried to scream. 

“Kick all you want, wolf girl. Won’t do you no good.” He said, dragging her off.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

While you bathed, you sat in the warm water, sinking deeply into the warmth around you. You closed your eyes, you tried your best to breathe, and calm yourself. 

Sandor was a strong man, a man who cut down five men, a man who cut his way through a riot, and then four men after that. You shouldn’t worry. It would be silly for you to worry. But still you did. 

As you looked at your body in the water, you could see the bruises left by Sandor. By his hands and his mouth. The thumb prints on your hips and the love bites on your sides and breasts. You ran your fingers over the prints, applying a bit of pressure to feel the lovely ache. It was like he was still with you.

You ran your other hand down between your legs, your other hand pressed down on the bruise again, to feel that ache, to feel like he was still with you.

However you heard a noise come from behind the door of the bathing chambers door. 

Uneasy, you got out of the bath, and dried yourself quickly and you clothed yourself in a thick, warm, robe. 

You opened the door, with caution, still uneasy. You stepped into the hallway, you hadn’t seen anyone. Even though you saw no one, you still felt uneasy. Like you were being watched.

You felt that familiar cold air flow through the castle, it only made your anxiety worse. ‘Tea would help,’ you thought. So you made your way to the kitchens, the only way to get to that from where you were however, was through the throne room,

As you stepped into the large room, you could feel the breeze worsen, the air colder, and the sound of wind louder. The moon doors were open, you knew what they sounded like better than anyone. 

What was worse, Lyssa was standing over them. Staring down into the nothingness below.

“How pleasant it must feel, to be clean, and back in your Arryn clothes.” She said, not looking at you, still peering into the vast nothingness below the Eyrie.

“Quite pleasant, Aunt Lyssa.” You said, cautiously 

“It was so kind of Baelish to return you to us. I asked him, why, why he wished for you back. It doesn’t make much sense, you’re the only thing that could possibly stand in the way of his position here in the Vale. Of Robin's position in the vale. And yet he feels responsible for you” Her voice felt sharp and unsteady,

“Lyssa-” You tried to begin

“Why does he feel responsible for you?” She interrupted you, her gaze shifting towards you quickly.

“I am your blood, I am part Tully-” You tried your best to calm her, to reason with her.

“Yes, Eloire Tully, The sister who hated him. Toyed with him, cruel and arrogant Eloire. You look just like her, are you toying with him too?” She said, her eyes were unhinged, and she stepped closer and closer to you.

An anger sparked inside you, “Don’t speak of my mother-” Your eyes and voice filled with disdain

“Did you fuck him is that it? Like those whores in his pleasure houses-”

You interrupted her “That is a vile accusation-” 

And she interrupted you, “So you know the vile things they do, the vile things he lets them do to him.” She said as she pulled at your robe, exposing your breast and your side, she could see the large bruise on your side and one on your breast. 

“I knew it.” She said her eyes widening,

You covered yourself quickly “Lyssa,” 

“Who did it? Who did you let ruin you, you whore!? If it wasn’t Tyrion who did it!? Unless you lied to me!” She began to grab you, grab your arms tightly.

You tried your best to pull away, “I fell from my horse, Lyssa-” You exclaimed 

“You think I’m a blind fool? Who did it? Petyr? Petyr did that do you? It makes perfect sense, You're no better than those whores in those pleasure houses, to him.” She exclaimed even louder, grabbing at you harder. 

“He never touched me-” You pleaded,

“Then who did it-”

“I fell off my horse!” 

“Lying whore!” She held onto your tightly and tried to push you towards the open moon doors, however the struggle between you and her was almost evenly matched. So she pulled out a dagger, raising it. But you were able to hold her arm off, “Why couldn’t you have stayed with them? Stayed far and gone! I won’t let you have him! You know what happens when people get in the way of Petyr and me?” She screamed at you as she continuously tried to push you towards the open moon doors, now at knife point. “My husband- your father, I killed him, all for me and Petyr!” She screamed, her admission however sparked a new kind of rage in you as you struggled back harder. No longer wishing to escape her grasp but to throw her into the moon doors instead.

“Lyssa.” Petyr said from the doorway, “Let her go,” He said calmly. Making the both of you halt,

“You want her? This ungrateful brat? I have lied for you and killed for you! Why did you bring her here? Why?” She sobbed

“I’ll send her away, I swear it.” Petyr said, 

Lyssa threw you onto the ground, cutting your forearm with the dagger she had in her hand. She dropped it to the ground as she sobbed.  

“My sweet wife. Silly wife.” He said as walked towards her holding her in his arms. You began to pick yourself up, your arm still bleeding.

“My whole life, I have only loved one woman.” He said, as she smiled. “Your sister.” He said as he pushed her into the moon doors.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

The next morning, Sandor and Arya had begun their journey north. Sandor had hoped that you had done as he said and made your way there was well. 

As he ate, he offered a bit of the food to Arya, who simply pouted and looked away from the food. It reminded him a bit of you. 

“Sulk all you want. Truth is you’re lucky, you don’t want to be alone out here, girl. Someone worse than me would find you.” He said, his voice gentler than it was the last day.

“There’s no one worse than you.” She spit at him.

“You never knew my brother. Once killed a man for snoring. Plenty worse than me, there's men that like to beat little girls, men who like to rape them. Save your cousin from some of them.`` He said lightly, 

“You’re lying.” Arya said in disbelief. 

“Ask her. You’ll be seeing her soon enough, you just ask her who came back for her during the riots.” He restated confidently.

“Is that the Blackwater?” Arya asked looking at a large river they approached, 

“Blackwater? Where do you think I’m taking you girl?” He asked

“Back to King's Landing, Joffrey and the Queen? My cousin?”

“Fuck Joffrey, fuck the Queen. That’s the red fork, I’m taking you to the Twins.” He sounded somewhat offended.

“But why?”

“Because your mother and brother will be there, they’ll pay for you, and maybe even your cousin will be there.”

“Why would they be at the Twins?”

“Those outlaws you love so much never told you? The whole countrysides yapping about it. Your uncle is marrying one of the Frey girls. Your cousin’s probably heard about it too, she’ll be heading there.” 

“Why do you care if she’ll be there?” She asked, almost annoyed by his constant mentioning of you.

Sandor ignored her question, “Quit your yapping, and we might make it for the wedding.” 

NOTE: Hey all you cool cats and kittens,  I wish I had one of those iconic A03 author excuse notes like I got hit by a bus or was getting my PHD and that's why this chapter is late, but I don’t I was just a little sick and binged TV. But we are here now, this chapter felt a little clunky and it was definitely a challenge getting Sandor and Y/N to still feel connected to the same story. I am very excited for what I have planned in the coming chapters.  K love you, xoxo Bambi ꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱ Beloved Tags:  @dontfollowjuststuff @helpmeescapethisreality

@merfic

@Broadsdrinkwhisky

@the-queen-of-sorrows

@eddiesbongwater

@not-neverland06

@symonedoesart

@wyvernnest

[hughiecampbelle]

Malignant (Homelander Oneshot)

((TAKES PLACE IN S4E4))

Character/s: Homelander

Word Count: 1,468

Warning/s: gore, sort of all the basic warnings The Boys typically has

Requested: Hii! I’ve just found your blog, read some of your works and loveee them! Especially The Boys Preferences and imagines! May I request a platonic Homelander x reader with the prompts: Fury, Shooting Stars, “Get away from me” ? Thank youuu! - anon

A/N: Y'all when I tell you you're not ready!!! When I say I love this I mean I cannot stop smiling!!! I am Victor Frankenstein and this is my monster lol. Thank you for requesting my love! I hope you like it!!! Feedback is always appreciated!!! 💜💜💜

Requests are open! 🔮

Get away from me. The words come out as a whimper, barely above a whisper. His features contort: insecurity, rage, struck dumb by your reaction. Despite himself, he smiles, trying make sense of it all. This is what we’ve always wanted. They deserved it, all of them. Why can’t- why can’t you see that? He takes a step closer and you react by moving further back, through the doorway. Your shoe makes a squeaking sound. Beneath the sole something squelches, wet and gummy. You don’t have to look down to know what you’ve stepped in. It’s splattered across the walls and ceiling. The entire room painted red. Faceless, headless, limbless bodies dropped across the floor. You’ve stepped on someones intestines, their insides strewn across the floor like shooting stars. Here and there are articles of clothing, a shoe without their twin, a name tag or Vought issued ID. You don’t recognize them. Many of them new hires. They weren’t around all those years ago. They took no part in what happened to you, to either of you. Bile rises in your throat. It’s the smell that’s the worst. Metallic. You can taste the iron on your tongue. Not just that, though. The heater was still on. Though the body was ash, the stench of burned skin and hair lingers. It’s thick, and hot, and disgusting. The warmth radiates off it, seeping into the rest of the lab. It leaves you fighting your nausea, your hatred, the two churning in your stomach. Why, why are you mad at me? He’s drenched in their blood. It’s dried across his face, his suit and in his hair. How long has he been with the bodies? You killed them, John. You killed them all. 

Despite what the media portrayed, your childhood wasn’t baseball games and apple pies. There was no mother to rock you to sleep or father telling you you were a great kid. There were no little sisters to play with or teasing from big brothers. No white pickett fence or a sweet, yet obedient, dog running around. There was sterility. There were test tubes, and locked rooms, and tests. There were knives, and guns, and fire. You and him, you were invincible. They wanted to test that. They wanted to see just how far you could be pushed before you broke. Your skin was impenetrable, but that didn’t mean it didn’t burn every time they shoved you into that chamber. You’d pound your fists against the door, begging and screaming, every inch of you engulfed in flames. Sometimes it still felt like you were burning. In dreams, maybe when the weather was warm. You were just a little kid. You thought (feared) this time would be the last time. This is how you would die. Your tears evaporated before they could fall. You’d call out for them, for the pseudo father figures. When that wasn’t enough, when they refused to move from their charts and lazy game of paper ball, you’d cry for John. Your companion, your brother, your friend. He’d be enclosed in his own hell. Eventually you learned to be quiet. Eventually you learned you would survive. No one was coming to save you. No one was going to stop this. You’d watch, day in and day out, first your skin, your muscles, until the fire kissed your bones. You’d come to hours, days later, completely healed. Not a single scar carved into your flesh. No evidence except your memories. 

If you were good, if you were well behaved, you might be rewarded. Taught a new game or trick. Tic-tac-toe had been an exciting discovery at the time. You’d liked playing O’s. John liked X’s. Hangman was another. Always with a dull pencil, just in case. You’d be sniffling, hiccupping, leftover from the sobbing, when they’d sit you on the lab table and ask you to guess a letter. They weren’t the kinds of words children should have heard, but how could you have known? Psychopath. Indestructible. Malignant. You didn’t know the meanings or, for a long time, how to spell them, but you heard them a lot. They were household names. If they were feeling generous, kind, they might give you more chances: add a face, a hat, a bowtie. Through tears you’d laugh at the ridiculousness, pointing out that the hanged man could not possibly be as accessorized as they were making him to be. You never liked when the game was over. Win or lose, it always meant the same thing. One man, much older than everyone else, would lift you up and carry you back to your cell as if you were his own. You’d cling to him, his shirt, clutching tight with your chubby, dimpled hands, watching over his shoulder as someone else would discard the pieces of paper, throwing them away. You wanted to keep them, have them to laugh at the silly stick figure when it was dark and you were all alone, but you wouldn’t dare ask. If not the man, then a young woman who’d lead you back, hand in hand, full of promises you both knew she would not keep. Talk of real games, with boards and pieces and cards. But when the time came again, when you did as you were told, all you were allotted was a piece of paper and pencil. 

Her body was the first you recognized. Faceless yes, but you knew her as well as you knew yourself. Barbara. She was like a mother to you. Albeit, a terrible one. A cold, uncaring, aseptic woman who studied you, who created you, made you the person you are today. Wasn’t that all mothers? She’d hush your cries, ask why you were so upset. You didn’t have the words, the vocabulary, and so she’d grow tired. Bored. When you could articulate yourself better, then you would be worthy of her time. Truthfully, you weren’t all that sad she was dead. She must’ve known what was going on. She must’ve seen or heard something. At night, when they came into your room. When they made you promise to keep it secret. Couldn’t she tell? Couldn’t any of them? Armies of psychologists couldn’t get the truth out of you, not that they were trying to. Their alliances rest elsewhere. Fear of abandonment had been ingrained into you. You’d cry even harder, begging her not to leave, not to go. She’d pretend she had no other choice, that it was your fault. You were a crybaby. A sissy. An imbecile. If you could not pull yourself together and act like an adult, she would have no choice but to get up. Beneath the hurt was a fury, a burning, but they had you trained well. Instead you screamed, begged, throwing yourself to the floor, into walls, harming yourself for an ounce of her attention. Affection. Circles of red stained the walls where your head had been bashed. Your clothes ripped and torn. Your tantrums were spectacular. Fantastical. Eventually you’d grow tired, exhausted. Bloody, you’d sit very still and breathe and wait for her to come back. Then, and only then, would she grace you with her presence.

You hoped the bitch suffered. 

Marty rests limp, his face crushed in, a hole lasered through his groin. You knew the story, the nickname. He tried to get you to call John that peculiar name, too. Try to get you in on the joke. You never did. He had names for you, too. Just as vulgar and perverted. No one ever stopped him. No one ever said it was inappropriate. You guessed when you were being gutted, sliced from collarbones to pelvis, turned into a living autopsy, harassment wasn’t such a big deal. You stepped over his body without a second though. Footsteps to follow from his skull (what was left of it) to where John stood. This is very bad. You find your voice again, inspecting the lab around you. The cake sits melted in it’s pink box. The lights flicker. There is an unsettling silence. But I, I did it for you. His eyes are wide, his pupils dilated. His grin is hysterical. John, you start, but the rest of your sentence clatters to the floor. He watches you, desperate for your approval, your appreciation. They did terrible things to you. They let terrible things happen to you, unspeakable things. Why should you be upset? Why should you mourn them? Why should their gruesome deaths fill you with anything but satisfaction? They deserved it. They were asking for it. You slide away the mans large intestine, wiping the blood from your shoe.  Thank you, you say finally, placing your hands on his shoulders, squeezing them. He breathes out a sigh of relief. Thank you, it means a lot.

[ldrfanatic]

r2 mattheo riddle

the truth from my red lips

mattheo riddle x gryff!potter!reader

r2 - “you and me would be a BIG conversation”

taylor swift lyric prompts

slytherin boys works

“y/n!” you turned at the sound of your name. colin creevy, a second year, was running up to you with the two issues of the daily prophet. on the first was a picture of your cousin, harry potter, bloodied and stunned following his win at the triwizard tournament. the front of the second sported another stunned headshot of him at his trial for underage magic in the presence of a muggle. (dudley, the disgusting boy on your the other side of the family).

with the new school year it was all anyone could talk about. well that, and that he and dumbledore had both gone mad spouting “nonsense” that voldemort had returned. especially since the lovely minister of magic cornelius fudge was vehemently denying it.

the boy brandished the papers in front of you once more.

“can you have harry sign these?”

suddenly, you were reminded of why you’d never ever wish to be as famous as harry. sure people recognized your last name here and there, but most people hadn’t even known that james potter had a brother, let alone that that brother had children. your father cut all ties with the rest of the family after an unfortunate fallout with your grandfather.

it wasn’t until you came to hogwarts and were sorted into the same house that you and harry got the chance to connect. now that your parents had passed, you lived with your mothers best friend. she was the closest thing that you had to family until you found harry.

in any case, with no prior mention of you, potter was a common enough surname that no one outside of your friends suspected that you were related.

that was until rita skeeter at the bloody prophet decided to do some digging and out you in her mission to completely expose the boy who lived during last years tournament.

before you could respond, a deep voice sounded behind you. “bugger off!”

the boy shrugged, undeterred, and took off in the direction of a familiar head of curls down the hall. you said a silent prayer for hermione. you turned around with the intention of thanking your savior but the words died in your throat when you took note of who it was.

brown eyes met yours and a smile broke out over a scarred face.

“riddle.”

“potter.”

unlike yours, mattheo’s voice held no malice. you recognized the playful glint in his eyes.

mattheo riddle had been chasing after you since third year. you’d think that the boy would have let up by now considering your cousin and his father were sworn enemies.

still, you were probably one a few people to take note the way that mattheo flinched when his father was mentioned. and in a rare moment of softness, he’d even shared with you that he’d run away from home to live with theodore after his father lashed out at him once, causing the scar that stretched from the center of his forehead to his jaw.

it wasn’t exactly surprising to you that tom riddle wasn’t father of the year.

yet mattheo had proved to be a pretty good guard dog. you felt yourself snort at the pun, completely intended given the boys animagus. all things considered, he’d saved you from bloodsucking fame-fuckers more than once. so, pushing your feelings aside, you offered him a smile. you weren’t ashamed to say it was probably the first time you’d ever smiled at him.

“thanks.”

you stuck around long enough to see your theory proven correct as shock started to take over mattheo’s face. the boy stared at you, jaw opening and closing like a fish out of water for a couple of minutes.

you turned on your heel and waved over your shoulder at him, wishing you could watch his awe forever but having to make your way to potions.

-

what you’d apparently failed to realize is that this year, the gryffindors had potions with the slytherins. you’d found your spot next to hermione and whispered to her while you waited for class to begin.

a familiar mop of curls waltzed into the room. mattheo had a rather smug look on his face that was admittedly unnerving. he approached snape at his desk and whispered indistinctly to him. suddenly, snape stood from his desk.

“potter!”

harry stood from his seat and stared expectantly, no doubt wondering what he’d done this time.

“not you…”

snape’s words caused your heart to jump into your throat. fuck. a large hand swept in your direction, confirming your fears. he fixed you with an intense stare and then motioned to the empty seat next to a grinning mattheo.

you bit back a groan, knowing the indignation would do little but land you in detention. hermione flashed you a pitied look as you gathered your books.

once you’d plopped yourself down next to mattheo, he grabbed the leg of your stool under the table and slid your chair closer to his until his knee touched yours and the smell of his cologne wafted in the air. evil prick aside, he smelled rather nice.

“today we’re brewing the invigoration draught. I doubt that any of you will do it successfully…”

snape’s gravelly tone continued in the background while you tried desperately to focus on anything besides mattheo’s cologne. finally, he seemed content on his berating of the students and released you to gather your ingredients.

you flipped the book open to page 16, brow furrowed. you had every intention of passing your o.w.l.s this year. yet, if mattheo’s current behavior was any indication, it was going to be a stupid long year for you.

out of the corner of your eye, you caught mattheo staring at you. his chin rested on his palm, elbow on the table. you turned to him with the intent of deterring him, but he matched your stare with a sharp grin. trying to ignore the flipping in your stomach, you scratched down the list on a piece of parchment and made for the ingredient cupboard.

ailhosty leaves… dried billywig stings… peppermint… stewed mandrake… infusion of wormwood… honeywater…vervain infusion… scurvy grass…

as you looked at the ingredients in your hand, you were certain you’d forgotten something. the longer you stared, however, the more your memory seemed to fail you.

a shadow was cast in front of you. you felt the feel of a broad chest against your bad and the now familiar scent of mattheo filled your senses. a large hand reached up, grasping a jar from the top shelf. he held the jar out to you, chest still pressed against you and voice deep but oddly soft as he spoke.

“lovage leaves.”

earlier confidence now evaporated, you slipped out of his embrace and scurried back to your seat where you began to mix the first ingredients of the potion.

mattheo’s cockiness had now also disappeared and he was staring at you with a notably intense look on his face.

“you’re staring, riddle.”

“go out with me, y/n.”

you tried not to show how much the use of your first name affected you. it took you a moment to answer, and part of you had to silently applaud mattheo’s patience.

“you and me would be a big conversation.”

“so? let them talk. they’ll see what happens. when have I ever not protected you?”

you shot an annoyed look at him.

“what like I owe you?”

“no! that’s not what I— y/n look at me.”

mattheo’s hand wrapped around your wrist which was currently stirring a budding invigoration draught.

“that’s not at all what I meant. you don’t owe me anything. I just meant that I’ve never done anything to hurt you and I’ve never let anyone else hurt you either.” he took a breath and continued. “seriously. you hold me to this earth, you hold me down and I’ll protect you with my life.”

it was hard for you to care about what people thought by this point. after so many years of cat and mouse, you were the only person who knew mattheo like you did.

“one date, mattheo riddle. one.”

—

< mattheo taglist >

comment to be added!

06.14.2024

[probablyintensemuses]

Hey, Brother

Armando Aretas

🎧- Story of My Life: One Direction

summary: Armando’s your older brother, here’s how you meet, past and present.

themes: extreme angst and fluff. A bit of violence. But mostly found family and sibling love.

authors note: completely convinced he’d be an amazing older brother. There is a 8 year age gap between reader (20) and Armando (28). Also shout out to my older brother…I wuv you 💞😭 Also yes I know i switched a few things around. Just enjoy it. If you want a part two, lemme know!

Read Part two here

Four Years Ago

Miami Florida University

The night on campus was quiet, the only things to be heard were the comforting trill of crickets and the soft waves of the ocean, only three miles out from the college.

Armando sat idle on his motorcycle, twelve beats away from where he’d been told you, their next victim, worked.

This entire time he’d been killing people in the name of the Aretas family, he couldn’t understand why Mike Lowery, some beat cop came last. And why his mother was resorting to taking his daughter as bait.

What made Mike so important that he deserved a fight for his life, for your life?

“Mamá, no entiendo, ¿por qué ella?” Armando says through his phone.

Isabel sighs on the other end. “Con el tiempo, hijo mío.”

“She’s just a kid.” Armando sighs, pulling out his ipad and looking at your photos again.

From what he gathered, your were a first year nursing student here at MFU, you got great grades, danced for a kpop club, and worked part time at the cafe he was currently parked out side of.

But most importantly, you were Mike Lowery’s daughter.

Which, in the grand scheme of things, shouldn’t matter.

But for some reason, to his mother, it did.

“She's a pawn,’ Isabel hisses. “Mike necesita conocer el dolor de la pérdida; this will show him.”

Armando nods, taking a deep breath, feeling the same incorrigible anger rising up in his pit again at the sound of Mikes name.

This man had stolen everything from him: his family, his dynasty…his father.

Though his didn’t understand his mother’s methods, he’d never question her madness.

This man took everything from them, it’s time he learned that same pain, and as much as he didn’t enjoy hurting innocent… you were the key to getting even.

“Lo haré mamá.” Armando said, watching you finally exit the cafe.

“Muy bien.” Isabel said, hanging up.

Armando pushed off on his bike, riding a bit down the narrow street before hanging a right and turning back around.

Out of his pocket, he pulled out a needle. Whatever was in there was strong enough to knock out a bear, so it should have no problems sending you, a small college freshman, into a deep sleep.

Swiftly, he drives forward, accelerating until he just passes you before he makes an abrupt stop, cutting your path off.

You fall back and onto your ass.

You help as you hit the pavement, lifting your small hands to access the damage that had been caused by you cradling your fall.

You hiss at your bleeding palms before looking up at Armando in sheer disgust.

The heat of your gaze causes Armando to flip up the visor on his helmet, something in your eyes giving him pause.

He wasn’t a vain person in the slightest, but something about your eyes, when he looked in the mirror, they were so similar to his own that it nearly startled him. They were the same shade of chocolate brown covered by thick, dark lashes.

His observation of you quickly dries as your curse at him. “What the hell, dude! You could have killed me!”

Armando doesn’t say anything, instead he offers you a hand.

Reluctantly, you take it.

Just as your nearly up, Armando pricks you with the needle.

Your face drops as you snatch your hand away from him.

You look down at your palm, a single trail of blood dribbling down your wrist from the spot he pricked you at.

“What the fuck,’ you wobble, turning to run down an ally.

Armando watches as you attempt to flee, he knew it wouldn’t be long before you passed out.

And as he predicted, ten steps in and you were slumped against the moist ally ground.

He picks you up, slinging you across his shoulders, carrying you towards his bike and driving off into the night.

Later…

When you awoke, you found yourself bound to a chair in a large, abandoned house. You wiggle against the binds, only scathing your wrist even more.

You scream out, panic rising in your chest as your breaths shorten.

"Help!" You scream. "Someone help me!"

"Help is on the way, princessa.' A slick voice says.

You turn and see a beautiful woman taking slow, slutry steps down the staircase towards you.

"Who the hell are you?" You croak, scooting away from her the best you can in this damn chair.

The woman, grips your chair with one hand, while running another through your curls. "Your fathers la venganza.” She hissed.

“Don’t touch me,’ you bite. “And my father did nothing wrong, you’re lying.”

Isabel grips your chin, hard. You try and wiggle free but it’s no use as she pulls you close.

She turns your head from side to side, the warm evening sun causing a glint in your eyes.

“Always the eyes,’ she mumbles. “He gives all of his children his eyes.”

“What?” You question, breathlessly.

Isabel forcefully lets you go, leaving a sore spot on your chin.

Your mind reels around her words and the weight of them.

She was your father’s revenge, why? And had she been the one to shoot him all those months ago?

And all of his children. Your father only had one child, you.

Looking around the wear house and seeing all the sage and candles burnt, the circles and alters, you could tell that whoever this woman was, she was crazy and you wanted no parts.

The thought was enough to make a few screams come out of you.

You stamp your foot against the ground, “Let me go! Let me the fuck go!”

Isabel rolls her eyes at you, mumbling something in Spanish before she shouts, “Armando, ven a llevarla antes de que la mate yo mismo.”

Quickly, the man for the other night emerges.

“No,’ you scoot back in your chair as far as you could. “No.”

The man, Armando, grabs you out of your chair and drags you up the staircase.

At the top of the staircase, he slices your binds loose but still has a good hold on you.

Now, you by no means are a good fighter, but with your dad being police, you know a few things.

So as Armando unlocks a door, presumably to put you in, you stamp on his foot as hard as you can.

Armando yelps at the sensation, doubling over, giving you enough time to kick him in the legs and send him down on the ground.

As soon as he hits the floor you take off, running down the steps as fast as you can.

In the foyer, you check for the exit in front of you, but the door is locked.

Your head is buzzing, you didn’t have much time as Armando would be up soon, probably ready to kill you, and that Isabel, who knew what she’d do if she caught you.

You had to move fast, and the window behind you, seemed like your best bet.

You scurried over me to it, working frantically as you tore wooden planks off the window.

You about all got your face out the window before strong arms wrap around your waist living and pushing your back.

You scream as you hit the ground, coming face to face with a less than pleased Armando.

“Enough games!” He shouts.

You crawl backwards, afraid he’ll hit you…or worse.

“Okay!’ You whimper. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry.” You squeak as he towers over your shaking body.

You fully expect him to return the blows you’d given him earlier, but to your surprise he doesn’t. He just grabs you up again and takes you back to that same room.

Shoving you inside he gives you a parting word.

“Do that shit again, and I won’t save you.” He slams the door, leaving you alone in a windowless room, wondering how you’ll end up dead.

In all the enemies your father has had, none of them had mad it a personal mission to kidnap you…so why had they?

Fingers toiling with the dirt around you, it finally clicked.

This was a set up.

You were bait.

And just as fate would have it, you could hear what sounded like your father and Marcus crowding in the foyer downstairs.

You stood up, running towards the door and banging on it like a madwoman.

“Help! Dad! Uncle Marcus!” You shout, slamming your fist against the door.

When the door flies open, you expect to see one or both of them there, but you see Armando.

“Come on.” He grabs you. “Nice and easy.” He places a gun to your temple.

“Stop, why are you doing this?” You whimper, taking careful steps down the stairs.

“Why did your father start it, hm, princesa?” He questions, pulling you in front of your family.

“Dad!” You shout, tears pooling from your eyes.

“Let her go, Armando!’ He shouts, turning to Isabel who stands elated. “She’s a kid.”

“We were all kids once, Mike. It’s why she must have her turn.” Isabel says.

Mike shakes his head, drawing his gun at her, Marcus doing the same to Armando.

“You kill me, he kills her.” Isabel shrugs.

Marcus adds, “then I’ll kill him.”

“Then it’ll be a blood bath.”

You whimper, “please don’t hurt me.”

Armando tightens his grip on you. “Cállate.”

“I just want to go home, daddy.” You cry.

Mikes hand shakes as he hears your pleas. “I know, baby, and we will.”

Isabel smacks her lips. “Liar!” She shouts, lunging at Mike.

Mike dodges the hit, but Marcus’s gun going off starts a cataclysmic event.

Everyone who wants present before suddenly emerging from the darkness and letting off their weapons.

You scream, falling back into Armando, who lifted you off the ground with one hand while shooting with the other, as the chaos erupts around you.

“Marcus!’ Mike yells. “Get Isabel, I’ll get my daughter!”

Marcus sprints, to the best of his ability, after Isabel, while Mike makes full way towards Armando.

In a dark room, Armando drops you, pushing you into a corner.

“Don’t make a fucking sound.” He threatens.

You whimper in a comply.

You hear your father, Mike, burst through the doors, calling your name.

You do as Armando says, though, keeping quiet, afraid anything you do or say will get you and Mike hurt…or worse.

You watch from the dark corner as your father searches the room, only seconds later Armando jumps him, landing a blow.

You watch from the sidelines as they traded blows back and forth.

And it hurt to watch your father in a fight, it did, but what hurt most? The words slipping from his mouth.

“Armando,’ he said. “I’m your father.”

Your head was buzzing, spinning.

What the fuck did he mean this man was his son? How was that even possible?

Your heart raced as you watched Armando’s face fall, confusion lacing every corner.

“You’re lying,’ he said lading another blow, bending down and dragging your father out of the room and into the burning hallway.

You weren’t sure if it was adrenaline or curiosity, but you needed to see this through, hear it for yourself.

You push to stand and creep after them.

Armando has your father at the ledge, his shirt balled up working his hands.

“Last chance,’ he croaks, eyes searching. “Who are you?”

“I just told you.”

“Lie again.” Armando growled, wrapping his hand around your fathers neck, applying pressure.

You gasped, stepping forward, but a hand cautioned you to stay hidden.

You turn, finding Marcus’s comforting eyes as he mouths, “Don’t do it.”

"He needs us," you whisper in protest, Marcus's arm staying firm on yours.

"They need this, just wait."

You relax, only a little watching the scene unfold.

"Ask your mother if you don't believe me." Mike croaks.

Armando turns, loosening his grip on Mike, and in a turn of lightning, Isabel appears, mumbling in Spanish.

"Es verdad lo que dice?" Armando questions his mother.

Isabel shrugs. "No es importante. Mátalo.' her eyes drag over to where you and Marcus stand. "Entonces ellos."

Armando shakes his head in frustration. "Es mi papá?"

Isabel's eyes darken, her words fleeing her mouth more rapidly. "

"Is he my father!" Armando shouts.

Something in the way your father laid limp in Armando's graps, the fire and smoke building around you all, and the life you once knew just yesterday crumpling around you had you desperate for the truth.

"Tell him!" You shout.

Isabel pays you no mind when she says, "yes."

Three letters.

One word.

That was all it took for your world to shatter.

You had a brother you hadn't known about, a brother who drugged and kidnapped you.

all of his children have his eyes.

A brother your father had behind you and your mother's back.

The realization made your mind splinter, picking up in your chest with each shortened breath you took.

Tears pooled in your eyes, making the scene in front of you blur and sharpen, wax and wane.

It's not until a shout and commotion caused you to dial back in, where you find Isabel pointing the barrel of her gun directly at your chest.

You're too frozen to move and put your hands up to brace yourself for the pain, for death.

But it never comes.

only the sounds of four shots ringing out and blaring in your ears, that's the only sensation you get.

You move your hands from your eyes and find Isabel falling over the balcony to her death and Armando on the floor, his shirt filling with blood as Mike, Marcus, and Rita crowd around him.

It clicks then for you, he took that bullet for you, he stepped in for you against his mother.

This family was dysfunctional as hell.

"Get over here!' your father calls out to you. "Now!"

You scurry over, tearing off your flannel and placing it on Armando's wound.

"We need to get the hell out of here!" Rita shouts.

"Go with Rita!" Mike shouts towards you.

You nod, locking hands with Rita and rushing out of the burning building.

Once outside, you look behind yourself to find Mike and Marcus dragging Armando's body and placing him on the ground, applying pressure to his wounds.

The rain clouds your vision as you draw closer to the van waiting to take you away and back home.

"Is he going to be okay?" You ask, holding your wet and naked arms.

Rita sighs, ushering you into the car. "I don't think that's something you should have to worry about.' She smiles softly. "Get some rest, kid. Okay?"

You nod and shut the door, feeling the car jerk before it pulls off and away from the chaos.

You fasten your seatbelt and lean your head back against the headrest.

Perhaps Rita was right, maybe worrying about Armando wasn't such a good idea. Maybe it was best for you to shove it down and let your dad deal with it, like he did everything.

Because you didn't think your heart could handle any more than what it was already going through. Thinking about Armando, your father, and Isabel...it would only weigh you down more.

So you decided to leave them all at that building that night, to burn up in the flames.

At least you tried to...

Four Years Later

Miami Florida University

"Please tell me you're coming to this party tonight?" Your friend, Kiesha, asked over the phone.

You chuckle, climbing the last flight of stairs to your apartment. Your father, Mike, had got it for you as gift for being in your last year of college.

“I can’t, sorry.’ You place the key code to your apartment and the door unlocks. “Lots of studying to do.” You half-lie.

“Girl, all you do is study. You know college is not actually for school.” You can practically feel her rolling her eyes.

You drop your bags on the counter, pulling out a pack of ramen noodles and starting a pot of boiling water.

“That’s easy to say for someone who’s only half majoring in, what is it, communications?” You comment.

The line goes silent for a minute before Keisha comes back.

“Wow,’ she scoffs. “I get that you’re stressing out with finals and you know, your dad being a fucking fugitive and all, but you don’t have to take it out on me.”

You run a hand through your hair, it getting tangled within your curls towards the end.

“Kiesh,’ you groan.

“Save it. Have fun studying.” She grumbles before hanging up.

“Fuck!’ You shout, turning and tossing your phone down the hallway.

Your grip at your hair and tug slightly, shutting your eyes you feel a hot tear slip out.

It had been a whole week since your father and uncle Marcus were deemed fugitives and accused of doing God knows what. It had been hard for you and Christine.

Knowing your father, you knew the allegations weren’t true, but another cover up, same as Captain Howard.

Still, you know it was bullshit meant nothing to the “adults” in charge. They saw him as guilty, and that seemed to be the end of it.

You turn, wiping away your tears and placing your ramen into the boiling pot of water.

It wasn’t the best, but it was all you could stomach these days, the fear of your family's future causing your appetite to slim.

You twirling the noodles in the water with a pair of chopsticks, watching the five minute timer chime by. It all but captivated you into a trance until a creak against the floor caught your attention.

You turn your head, peering down the hallway you had just thrown your phone. Staring into the darkness, you see a figure moving towards you slowly.

You gasp, grabbing a large knife and holding it out in front of you with shaky hands.

You would call for help, but unfortunately your phone was in harms way.

“Don’t come any closer,’ you squeak.

The figure doesn’t respond, it just trudges closer and closer to you until it’s emerged into your kitchen lighting.

At first, you have to squint real hard to make out who it is, but then, when you catch a glimpse of his eyes, so hauntingly like your own, you know who exactly it is.

Your brother, Armando.

You don't drop the knife, keeping it held high as you slowly approach him. You'd seen how vicious he was, and you weren't taking any chances with him.

Closing the space between you two, you could see that he's in full tactical gear, covered in blood.

He takes another step towards you, you step back, before collapsing onto the ground and passing out.

You rush towards his side. “What the hell!” You rip open his vest, finding all kinds of stab wounds and lacerations littering his body. “Armando!” You shake him.

He doesn’t respond, you shake him again, harder this time, and a tiny black book falls out.

You open the book and find your address on one sheet and another sheet addressed to you.

Don’t hate me, babygirl. I’ll explain everything soon, until then, you two lay low.

Be strong for me.

Love, Dad.

You could scream, you could actually fucking scream right now.

No way this motherfucker sends this other motherfucker to your house for you to nurse back to health.

You crumple up your father’s note, chucking it across the room.

Looking down at Armando, you watch the slow rise and fall of his chest as he lay unconscious.

It was obvious he was loosing blood, and you could let him bleed out and pretend you tried everything.

But then again, he saved your life before…and he didn’t even know you.

Guilt tugged in your chest at the thought.

“Fuck.” You breathed, throwing your head back.

You knew what you had to do.

You figured lifting him would be hard, he was bigger than you by a long shot and was basically deadweight.

You tapped him, shook him, slapped him…hard, but nothing woke him up.

Looks like you’d be operating on the floor.

You stood, gathering your curls in a pineapple on your head, and headed to your bathroom.

You grabbed all the first aid kit supplies you could find, fresh clothes, a blanket and pillow, before heading back out to the main part of your apartment.

You slipped on some gloves, cut open his shirt, and began working on his wounds, dressing them and putting on bandages.

Thank God for nursing school and clinicals.

It took you two bowls of ramen, a Celsius, and a whole heck of a lot of bandages and gorilla glue, but you got Armando mostly patched up.

You wiped the sweat of your forehead grabbing the pillow and blankets you’d grabbed.

You gently lifted his head placing the pillow underneath and the blanket on top of him.

Next to his body you placed the fresh clothes, Gatorade, protein bars, and a bottle of water.

When you finally stood, you felt woozy and in need of a shower and sleep yourself.

But before you crept off to take your shower, you stood over Armando, taking in his features.

His dark hair, his smooth skin, his nose, and lips. He looked like a Spanish version of your father and it was freaking you the fuck out, sending a shiver down your spine.

You walked away hoping your father’s explanation was coming soon because, you may have just saved his life on the conscious fact that he’d done the same for you, but he was still dangerous…and who knows what would happen to you when he wakes up.

The next morning, when you wake up, you creep out of your bedroom, peaking to see if Armando had moved at all.

To your surprise, he hadn’t.

You release a heavy sigh, walking over towards his body.

You watch his chest rise and fall, faster than last night.

Good.

At least your dad couldn’t kill you for letting his son die.

You lean in a big closer to Armando, checking out his wounds from a far.

One wound had opened it seemed like.

You turn and grab the gorilla glue and a bandage of your counter.

Completely removing one bandage, you toss it to the side, pinching the skin of his chest while prepping the glue.

You’re just about to glue his would shut again, when his arm shoots up, gripping your wrist.

You scream, falling back on your ass.

Armando’s eyes shoot open and he sits up quick in a panic.

You crawl backwards, away from him, bumping into the cabinet .

Armando groans, rubbing his sore torso and arms.

His eyes skate across the room before they find yours.

He jumps back a little. “¿Qué diablos me hiciste?”

You swallow, holding your knees. “I don’t speak Spanish.”

Armandos eyes widen then narrow. “Did you do this to me?” He says, accessing his bandages.

You hesitate to tell him the truth…would he be mad and hurt you again?

Armando must sense the hesitation. “I’m not going to hurt you,’ he groans, slowly standing up. “It’s just a question.”

You nod, backing away from him. “Yes…I did.”

Armando swipes up the bottle of water, chugging it, tossing it aside, and then going for the Gatorade. “Gracias.” He grumbles, heading towards your bathroom.

You stand, slowly following after him, still keeping some distance between you two.

Armando peers over his should, eyebrow raised. “Mike sent me, if you’re wondering.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to be here as much as you don’t want me here.”

“I never said that.” You clarify, even though he’s not wrong.

“Don’t need to.”

You frown. “Armand—,”

He slams the door shut.

“Great.” You roll your eyes. “Just fucking great.”

You slam your head against the wall, thinking off all the ways you would tell your dad off when you saw him next. But until then, it seemed you and Armando would be roommates.

So you should try and be cordial, right?

[actuallysaiyan]

Let Me Into Your Heart(Rufus Shinra x Fem!Reader)

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, use of pet names, smoking, drinking, general lewd stuff, love confessions, promiscuity word count: 1.8k pairings: Rufus Shinra x Fem!Reader summary: you were hired to be Rufus' cocksleeve when times get tough and he's stressed, but he fell so hard for you...yet he feels disgusted to confess to you because of how he's treated you before a/n: this is for he lovely @beneathstarryskies!! I love you and I hope you enjoy!!!

Rufus does all he can to control and contain himself whenever he is around you. You’re like a siren, calling to him dangerously. Your perfume smells a little too sweet, it makes his pants a little too tight at times. Sometimes he has to find a private place to take care of the issue before it becomes even worse.

You were hired specifically as someone who helps him with his stress and his problems. You soothe his needs whenever he needs it, which seems to be a lot more than you realized. When you were approached for this job, you figured you’d be giving a bratty heir to the Shinra company some tips on breathing exercises and some yoga stretches. But Rufus showed you almost immediately that you belonged on his bed, ass up and face down. Despite the sexual nature of your job, you kept your own feelings locked up tightly.

And Rufus believed he was doing the same thing. He thought for sure he could keep himself from falling so deeply for you. You were just a cute little cocksleeve. Nothing more, nothing less. But the more you tried to help him with other issues in his life, and the more you listened to him as you two stayed cuddled in his bed, the more he became aware of the growing feelings. It wasn’t long before he was growing mad at the fact that he had fallen head over heels for you.

You had been hired to soothe his needs, and here you were, invading his every waking thought.

You’re just too sweet, and too beautiful. He believes sometimes you’re an angel sent down to heaven just for him. Someone who would truly understand him whenever he wasn’t feeling very cared for. When the world wanted to beat him over and over and he couldn’t find the strength to hold on for much longer, you were there to show him that things were going to be okay. Your gentle touches and sweet kisses were what kept him up at night. And they were driving him mad…mostly because he wasn’t supposed to feel this way about you.

At times, he begins to wonder if he’ll just end up like his father. Horny and whoring himself around to anyone. He tries to hook up with a few people to forget about you, but none of these women know how to make him feel warm and loved. None of them know what he likes in bed. You know how to get him off without even really trying. He’s just worried that he won’t be able to keep it in his pants if he can’t continue to have you. If he falls deeper for you, then he’s going to have to claim you.

But the more time he spends with you, the more he’s realizing he’s falling deeper and deeper. Rufus grows angrier because this was never supposed to happen. It was supposed to be casual sex and blowjobs under his desk. Never was it supposed to grow into a warmth in his heart where your name remains etched. Never was it supposed to be something so soft and blissful like this. And yet, he can’t deny it anymore. He’s in love with you and this both scares and soothes him.

One night after a particularly long and hard day at work, Rufus finds himself feeling so antsy. He’s scared to ask you to come over, because he thinks this might be the night he confesses to you. He’s not ready for that right now. He can’t just spit out his feelings to you. It terrifies him to think about telling you how he feels about you, only for you to stare at him, or to laugh…or worse to tell him you never want to see him ever again.

Despite you being the person that was hired to soothe his needs, Rufus feels a little off about asking you to take care of him. He doesn’t want to worry you, because he knows you will worry about him. You’ll show him kindness and care, and you will offer to probably make him dinner. The thought doesn’t sit right with him. You treat him like he’s your husband, but it just makes him feel even more dirty.

He sits in his penthouse, sipping on a mixed drink and he’s indulging in his one vice he hides from almost everyone. Plumes of smoke float around as he puffs on a cigar. Usually it would be a cigarette, but he needed something stronger tonight. Something to get his mind off the aching in his cock and the aching in his heart.

One hand holds the cigar while the other begins to palm his cock through his fancy dress pants. He’s thinking about asking you to come here, but with every thought of you being on your knees for him, the more he becomes disgusted with himself. He needs to figure out a better way to deal with him being pent up, but there’s nothing else he wants besides you.

He begins to scroll through his phone, looking for other women he could contact so that he could just have a quick fuck. But he keeps seeing your posts and your selfies, and it makes his cock twitch even more. He takes another drag from his cigar, then he stubs it out in the ashtray. He finishes off the drink, grimacing as the alcohol goes down roughly.

Eventually, he gets too frustrated with himself. He gets up from his seat on the balcony. Nothing is going to quench his thirst like you. Nothing will make him satisfied like you. He texts his driver to come pick him up so he can go to you.

The minute he’s out of the car in front of your place, there’s something that snaps within him. He begins banging on the door, loudly and hard. He needs you more than even he can comprehend at this point.

“Come on, I know you’re in there. Let me in!”

His voice surprises and excites you. He’s ready to show you just how much he loves you, but you really have no idea of his intentions. You figure he must just be over for a booty call. When you open the door, he’s pushing his way inside immediately. You see something deep in his eyes, and you notice just how much darker they are. You’re hit with the scent of his natural musk coupled with whiskey.

“Rufus, what—”

But you’re interrupted with his lips crashing down on yours. It feels so good to be kissed roughly by the man you had fallen in love with. What he never realized was that you had been battling your own inner demons about confessing to him. You figured he’d never want to fall in love with someone so plain and not from a rich family.

“You’re mine, you got it?” He growls in your ear as he begins leading you towards your room.

He’s only ever been here a few times, but every time that he’s here, he’s filled with love and comfort. It’s so warm and cozy in here, Everything bears your scent as well, which only seems to make him want to claim you even more. Once inside the bedroom, he’s pushing you onto the bed. You try to ask him what’s going on again, but he’s shushing you with a deep searing kiss.

“My pretty little baby,” he groans in your ear as he begins to grind against you. “You’ve been on my mind all day.”

Your eyes widen, “Really?”

He kisses you again, this one makes your head whirl. You know nobody can make you feel the way he does. His hands cup your face, pulling you in even closer. Your hands softly caress his back, making him grunt as you begin to massage his tense shoulders.

“How am I supposed to stay away?” he asks, his eyes so dark with lust.

“You don’t need to.”

And with that, you capture his lips with yours in a passionate kiss. He drinks you in, relishing in the way your tongue is so soft against his own. With able hands, he begins to undress you. You’re doing the same to him. Both of you too pent up to take your time. You need each other and you need each other now.

Once you’re undressed, Rufus takes a moment to take you all in. You’re so beautiful, so angelic. A goddess made specifically just for him. You let out a sweet whine when his fingers begin to play with your soaked folds. He loves how you’ve become so wet for him just from some making out.

“I tried to keep myself from you,” he confesses between heated kisses. “But I can’t anymore. I need you,”

You pant, “Take me. I’m all yours.”

He spreads your thighs, and his eyes are locked onto your beautiful glistening cunt. You reach over and begin stroking his aching cock, making him hiss through gritted teeth. He’s in heaven right now, and he knows it’s only going to get better from here.

Slowly, he slips into you. Inch by delicious inch begins to stretch you out. Your eyes roll back the minute he bottoms out. Your hands weakly reach out for him as you try to grind yourself. It’s all too much, you can already feel your walls beginning to contract around him,

Rufus leans in for a sweet kiss, and he knows he won’t last long either. Now or never, he’s going to tell you just how much he adores you. He begins rocking his hips slowly, surprising you both. You figured you’d be getting pounded into the mattress tonight, but Rufus needs you to be so close to him.

“How I have longed for you,” he murmurs against your sweat-slicked skin. “I love you, my angel.”

You gasp at his words. He thrusts deeply a few more times, making the coil in your tummy so tight. You barely have time to warn him that you’re coming undone when the dam breaks. You cling to him as he fucks himself deeper and harder, prolonging that blissfully sweet pleasure. You’re sobbing and moaning and mewling, just holding onto him as he gives you the most heavenly orgasm you’ve ever felt.

“Shit–” he grunts. “Can I? Can I cum inside?”

You nod, “Yes, please! Please!”

His hips stutter as his orgasm hits him like a freight train. It’s intense, throbbing and messy. Ropes of hot cum begin filling up your awaiting womb. You both move against one another, prolonging the sweetest orgasm you’ve ever had. Then slowly, you two stop and hold onto each other.

“I love you too, Rufus.”

And for the first time in a little while, he believes that things can be okay. Things can be okay because he has you.

[yuri-is-online]

... right so who wants to hear my deranged theory about Yuri Tokyo Debunker with no evidence backing it up I believe only as a joke.

The mutual mommy issues and classical music interest made me think that Yuri and Jin could be related. A lot of Yuri's... yuri-ness screams second child syndrome, I couldn't find where or if it was even said but Yuri seems to indicate he was raised to be a doctor. We know Jin's dad is the head of the entire institute, the institute also has a medical branch. Based on what we know about Jin's dad he seems like the old school political dynasty sort, if he had two sons raising one to take over the Institute and the other to oversee its medical branch makes a lot of sense. It would also make sense for Yuri, as the baby of the family, to maybe be closer to their mother than Jin was. If Jin was expected to take over for their father, it makes sense for his dad to monopolize his time and not allow him to spend as much of it with his mom. Yuri could have spent almost all of his time with her, and if Mama Kamurai was particularly sickly (or cursed) Yuri's interest in becoming a doctor becomes extremely significant. It is clear both Yuri and Jin love their mothers, whoever they are, but if she was the same woman their hatred for each other can be explained by a sibling rivalry. Jin resenting Yuri for being mommy's "favorite" and h Yuri hates that Jin is daddy's favorite and gets all the money to do whatever he wants with while he's stuck writing expense reports for his vital research. Jin could even be blaming Yuri for being unable to save their mom, it certainly seems like Yuri is blaming himself already.

If this was the case, I think whatever injury Jin has sustained probably was the breaking point between the two. Yuri probably doesn't want to lose his brother, he seems like the sort who would really desperately want big brother's approval. If Jin turned his help away in disgust then of course that would nuke the relationship between the two dorms. If Yuri really was just Jin's younger brother (oh how phrasing it like that would irritate him) then of course everyone else would see his behavior as a temper tantrum and not a concern. He's just mad daddy doesn't love him, give it a rest. Yuri will get over this soon enough, he's a grown adult... right?

This would also mean that Yuri didn't need to ever have been placed in Frostheim. He always could have been in Mortranken, he just associated with Frostheim because he is the younger brother of the King. And why he hates Darkwick General so much and is so insistent on doing his own thing: he wants to prove he is more than his family name. That he can cure people, that he isn't his father's puppet. This would probably further drive the wedge between him and Jin, that's something Jin wants to do himself but can't on account of being the oldest son. He sees his little brother as privileged in the same way his little brother thinks he is.

Counter Arguments/Rebuttals:

They do not look much alike. Zenji and Jiro + Hyde and Sho do, so the game making them look different is my biggest reason I think this could be wrong. They don't need to be related for their dislike for each other to make sense, it would just be deeply tragic. And could potentially set up an arc where Zenji chews Jin out for being a shitty older brother, he loves Jiro so much he would die (and probably did) defending him. Why is Jin ignoring his brother? Has he no heart? (not to mention why Yuri is so attached to Jiro, little brothers need to stick together)

Different last names. I think this could be explained by Yuri using his mother's maiden name to separate himself from his family, which would further irritate Jin because how fucking dare he use their mom's name like that?

Like I said, this doesn't need to be the explanation for why Yuri and Jin hate each other. He very easily could have just been a student there and failed to help Jin through his injury. It makes just as much if not more sense. My one real reason for holding onto brother theory when that one works is that... fuck that's a lot of students transferring out of Frostheim. Almost too many to make sense if you go with Haku having originally been there too. It almost feels like it makes more sense if Yuri has always been in Mortranken... but not by much when you take into account everything else you need to believe in order for brother theory to be true.

[toji-sweetheart]

𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐞. 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

synopsis: You always wondered why Eren gave everyone else the time of day, but you. There's no way he knows what you want from him, is there?

wc: 2.1k

tags: 18+ ONLY content + dead dove do not eat + explicit smut: minors and empty blogs DNI + not beta read + repost + college au + yandere! reader + slight reader x Zeke + stalking + toxic tendencies + manipulation + baby trapping + non-consensual picture taking + blowjob + virgin! reader + blood [virginity taking] forced creampie + choking [dubcon]

an: this contains content that is not suitable for everyone, the warnings are there for a reason heed them. I have never written anything like this before it’s not my best work and I do not condone any of this, it’s all for fictitious purposes, even though it's a repost it didn't stay up long because it flopped when I first posted it but I like it so zldjknve and it's always the character doing the baby trapping

It was innocent when it first started years ago in middle school.

A small crush of sorts, not that it couldn’t be helped anyway, especially on Eren Yeager. Everyone on campus knows that name, whether it belongs to him or his older brother.

The Yeager Brothers always threw wild parties at their father’s home when he left for the weekend, perks of being children of a doctor.

Unfortunately for you however your name never ended up on the invite list further driving you mad.

It’s been years since you both were in seventh now at the beautiful tender age of twenty-two and he still has yet to notice you.

It was a no-brainer on what he liked, short skirts making it easier to hike up for a quick fuck in the bathroom between classes or hookups in the library, seems no one uses the rooms for their intended for around here only for the secret getaways that it provides.

You weren’t new to the game necessarily however you were saving it for Eren, but it stung each time he never invited you so the best plan was to worm your way in first with his brother which was very easy to do, just a little batting of the eyes and showing him what you had to offer under your shirt.

“You want to come to my party?” He asked you, taking a slow drag of his cigarette, the cherry end glowing in the dark back room where he works, what a way to meet a guy, right?

You smiled sweetly reaching a hand out and grabbing his bicep softly giving it a subtle squeeze feeling the muscle tense in a small flex, a way of showing off. You choked down the laugh that threatened to blow your plans all to hell.

“Of course I do Zeke, you’re a lot of fun to hang out with, especially in the library.” You leaned in, slipping the cigarette from his lips, ashing it quickly on the ground then throwing it in the garbage can.

He watched you with curious eyes knowing exactly what you were talking about earlier today when the same lips you just plucked the white stick from were the lips that sucked in your clit bringing you an intense orgasm.

“I instinctively remember you begging me not to stop,” he leaned in grazing his lips against your cheek to gain your attention and make your pussy throb but it was quite the opposite so you pretended it was his little brother who kissed you roughly, both hands palming your tits.

Harsh. It reminded you of Eren judging from the small clips you saw when people shared them during class, some girl face down ass up while he’s jerking himself off on her back calling her all sorts of names, the only thing he ever recorded was the sloppy blowjobs he’s gotten and him blowing his load on girls face.

It was disgusting because it wasn’t you on the receiving end of his cock being rammed down your throat.

A call of your name brought you back to Zeke kissing and sucking on your neck, his bulge rubbing against you with each rut of his hips, “I’m sorry but I have to go, I have homework. I’ll call you later, I have to practice for my oral exam and I need your help.”

Another tooth-rotting smile soothed the disappointment in Zeke’s face as he pulled back, “Ok, you have a good night then, I need to get to work anyway.” He told you while bidding him a sweet goodbye sealed with a kiss.

Turning the corner you ran into a broad chest, “Sorry, are you okay?” Hands grabbed your elbows sending waves of shocks down your arms and into your heart pumping rapidly in your chest when you met emerald eyes, you’ve never seen such a pretty color.

“I’m alright, sorry I didn’t want to make Zeke late back to work.”

Your reply was smooth and gained his attention to your disheveled shirt and skirt barely covering what it needs, his eyes took in your bare skin leaving him the mental image later to masturbate to.

Judging from his breathing that changed and straining his jeans gave you the right indication that step one was complete.

Over the next several days you tried to look for Eren and when you found him he didn’t pay you any attention except the small nod he gave you because in the back of his head, you look familiar, did he cum on your tits?

Anger was quick to set in seeing his arm casually slung around another girl’s shoulder, and so did jealousy that made home deep down into the crevices of your heart like ivy vines working you into a pit of despair.

“Okay, so maybe I need to talk to him.” You mumbled to yourself walking down the hall when again you bumped into Eren who this time put his hand on the small of your back keeping you from stumbling on your ass.

“We keep running into each other, you’re my brother’s girlfriend, right?”

Your smile faltered before batting your eyes, “Girl, friend, as in we hang out time from time then yes,” you replied sure to make it clear that there’s a space between girl and friend although Zeke begged for more.

Eren raised an eyebrow, “Oh, the way he was talking about you was so…” he broke off unsure what to say.

You knew Zeke called you his girlfriend and he’d sometimes mention the nights he’d visited you to his sibling telling him all the nasty details of the way you buck your hips meeting his mouth, but instead, when you looked down at the blonde man but all you can think about is his long-haired little brother with eyes you could stare at forever and a cock you were sure that you could ride for hours.

“I know he talks about me like that, it’s hard not to overhear him when he’s yelling about it to Reiner and Porco, although I have to admit I’m not sure why he thinks that’s okay.”

Eren chuckled nervously, something about you put him on edge that he wasn’t quite sure if he liked it or not when you stared at him with puppy dog eyes reaching out to twirl a piece of chocolate hair around your finger, “I’m not sure either, that’s my brother though.”

You hummed pulling on the lock slightly hearing him gasp under his breath.

So, he’s a little submissive and likes his hair being pulled?

“Don’t you do the same thing with the videos being shared around campus?” You asked closing the distance between you and him pushing his back against the wall.

Blood rushed to the apples of his cheeks when you trailed your finger down his shirt feeling the hard muscles underneath washboard abs, abs you’d taken pictures of after sneaking into the locker room and snapping a few of Eren shirtless. Sometimes you even caught him hunched over on the wooden bench with his hand wrapped around his thick cock jerking himself off.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He replied unsure what to say, the creepy feeling he couldn’t quite pinpoint buzzed around you like flies.

“Anyway, I guess I’ll see you at your party later. I’m sorry for running into you.”

He watched you walk down the hallway leaving him with a simple gift of kissing his cheek.

Later that night you found yourself in the corner of the Yeager’s living room like some fucking lamp as you held the solo cup switching it to the other growing anxious and looking around through the packed bodies gyrating against one another fully clothed as if that would somehow help the burning need deep inside. 

Rolling your eyes you ditched the cup in hopes of finding Eren who was nowhere to be found until you walked up the stairs running into him and his little posse of Armin and Mikasa.

Green eyes found you in a heartbeat when he heard you calling his name, “Eren! Hey! How are you?” Stopping on the first step you looked at him.

“I’m good, how about you? Enjoying yourself?” He asked before leaning in to whisper something to Armin who left with Mikasa.

“I am yes, although I’m getting a headache, do you have somewhere quiet I could just rest?”

When he slipped his hand in yours it took everything you had not to squeal at the contact, he felt warm and big which you knew he was so you let him lead you to his bedroom falling for your plan as he opened his door shutting it cutting off the loud noises from downstairs.

“Any better?” He asked watching you sit on his bed crossing your legs and giving him a glimpse of your panties before laying down with a big dramatic sigh.

“Yes, thank you. You’re my knight in shining armor,” You giggled sitting back up and biting your lip, “can I pay you back for helping me?”

Your question didn’t leave much room for him to say no the way your thighs parted in front of him.

So close, all he has to do is bite the hook and with a sharp yet hard set, you’ll have him wrapped around your finger.

“How do you plan on helping me?” Eren asked curiously joining you on the bed and placing his hand on your bare thigh, you smiled to yourself at how easily he was falling into your trap. His mind was only you rubbing his bulge leaning in to kiss his neck inhaling his scent.

You had one chance to make it right so you pushed him on his back sitting between his legs palming his dick before pulling the band of his shorts down and revealing this cock, it felt warm and heavy in your hand. You marveled at the smooth flesh letting your hand pump up and down listening to his raspy breathing, “Have you ever done this before?” He asked.

“Would you laugh if I said no?”

Eren shook his head grabbing your wrist helping you, “I could tell,” He replied letting you gingerly lick and suck his swollen head scrunching your nose at the salty taste.

He was a fool for falling so fast in your hands letting you pull his boxers and shorts down further his legs throwing the heap of clothes on the floor before ridding your skirt and panties.

“No videotape for this, I just want us to remember it.” You whispered pulling back to straddle his hips.

Nodding his head Eren watched as you slid his cock between your lips shivering in the way he felt like this, “Wait-are you on birth control?” He asked placing both hands on your thighs stopping your movements.

“Of course,” You lied through your teeth lifting your hips and feeling him push against the tight muscle, parting your lips in a pitiful moan you fought through the pain impaling yourself slowly until he was buried to the hilt grunting feeling you tighten around him when you rolled your hips getting used to the sensation, you could feel the warm blood stain your thighs along with Eren’s and his sheets.

“You feel so good, holy shit you’re so wet.” He moaned laying his head back on the pillow, his soft brown hair looked like a halo for the man you worshipped for years and now you have him under you crying out your name when you used the knowledge of how to make the guy feel good after you scoured the internet on tips and tricks and positions to make him beg for you not to stop.

Alternating between bouncing and grinding Eren cupped your breasts already feeling his orgasm tingle in his stomach, you took a mental note of his whining and begging just like the websites said, the wet squelching your stretched-out cunt bounced off the four walls joining in your loud groans.

The last thing Eren expected however was for you to lean down keeping one hand on his stomach feeling the muscles ripple as you rode him still wrapping your fingers around his throat and pressing his carotid artery watching him gasp, “Breath if you want to cum inside me, that’s what you want, right?”

Nodding his head he felt your pussy convulse pulling him into an orgasm that left his body trembling emptying his sack in your cunt unknowingly breeding you.

“Congratulations, I’ll let you know in a few weeks.” You whispered in his ear letting go of his throat. He gulped a lungful of air, head spinning at your comment.

“You lied to me?” He asked bewildered pushing you off him and tucking his dick back in not caring that it was covered in bodily fluids.

“I have to keep you by my side one way or another. You weren’t paying me attention now I get it all for myself.” You replied scooping up your panties before slipping out of his room and downstairs to head home feeling his cum leak out. 

feedback such as comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, those kind words mean a lot and encourage me to do more writing ♡

[snowywolf1005]

SANJI X WEDNESDAY ADDAMS READER X VINSSMOKE FAMILY

WARNING: CURSES,

Okay, the vinsmoke family invited sanji, and you, to go their home. Sanji was so nervous that you would fall in love with his brother.

But you wouldn't, because sanji is the first man to fall in love with you. But sanji wants to make sure you're okay with his family.

You and sanji left the sunny ship, and then you finally met sanji sister. Rejiu, and then you and sanji go met, sanji brothers and his father.

And how did it go? Um... well. "Well, well, well, what sanji brought us today?" Said yonji, then niji looked at you with wide shock. "Is that what I think it is?!" Said niji.

"(Y/N) Adam," said judge, sanji face became so nervous hearing his father said your name.

"WOW, it really is (Y/N) Adam," said ichiji, smirk. "I heard she is the strongest on the straw hat crew." Said rejiu,

"Well, in that case, how about introducing to us. My name is ichiji, " he said, holding your hand and kissing it.

It makes sanji very disgusted from his brother, you same as well. You hated him already, the one who can kiss your hand is sanji.

"Got a say. That dress is good on you, but it needs red, " he said, looking at your dress. Niji and yonji were jealous.

Oh yeah, and here your dress:

Yeah... you don't like that color. "Really!? She be more beautiful, when she can wear with blue" said niji, "shut up, she was to wear green!" Yonji yelled.

They started arguing, and then you looked at sanji, who looked at the ground. You hold his hand. He looked at you and made him feel everything was all right.

But until ichiji grabbed your arm, you pulled you torward him. That made sanji mad, "you dating with him!?" Ichiji yelled, yonji and niji smirk.

"I'm sorry to say, but sanji is getting a bride for our family convention. So you did a real man, " said niji, laughing at his weakly brother.

"Yeah, you need us, not him," said yonji. He put his hand on your waist, and it made sanji really pissed off. "Get it off," you said, yonji looked at you, "I said. Get your hands off me, ".

You punch yonji cheeks, causing him to fly out, and hit his back against the wall cause to Crack. Everybody was shocked to see, yonji got up and looked at you.

You gave him a death glare, "Well, you kind of sexy one, I like strong-minded girl like that," said niji smirk at you.

Yonji tch, judge was impressed by your skill, he heard all about you on the newspaper. He was thinking of making you marry each one of his three sons.

Cause he knows how powerful you are, and you will be great having his grandchildren. You didn't want that. You only love sanji.

You'll do anything for sanji, and he will do as well. "Y-you... bitch!" Yonji yelled, and he was about to attack you, "that enough, " said judge.

You looked at him, "There no fighting in family meeting, that enough today," he said, looking at you.

After the fight today, you and sanji get a different room, which means you're see each other. As you go in, you see lots of pictures of niji, yonji, and ichiji.

Hanging around the walls. Do you want to burn this picture to Hell, but you can't. You took a warm bath.

You missed sanji, you always sleep together. Like you laying top of his chest and warp around you. You missed that.

But then again, you stuck sanji family forever.

Hey, guys!!! Thank you for reading this!!! I hope you enjoy it!!! And if you want more, just give me your best headcanons, and comment below!!!

[purrplegyuu]

The best for both of us | Choi Beomgyu

Pairing: Writter!oc (named Seoli), animator!Beomgyu

Warnings: penetrative sex, oral (fem receiving), clitoris stimulation, unprotected sex, overstimulation, poor plot, gaslighting, non corresponded love, toxic Beomgyu, soft som Beomgyu, sub reader, lemmie know if im missing something.

Word count: 2,6k

Masterlist

“We’ve already read your book and it’s amazing. We also saw the animations, and we all thought they are perfect for our style. However…” he stops talking.

“However, it’s too disturbing for anyone under fifteen” says his boss. The woman, the owner of the video games company, who wears an expensive suit that screams everywhere she’s a squared closed box. I don’t really know how she manages a video games company. “Which wouldn’t concern us if we didn’t want the money, but we need this project to be suitable for all ages”

“I talked about this before, I have already rejected various contracts because I’m not interested in any project in which my art is changed” I say.

“Well, as I already said before, we need this to be suitable for all ages”

I stand up, taking my documents from the table, and when I’m about to leave, Beomgyu takes my arm, forcing me to sit down.

“Well, why don’t we listen to their proposal?” He asks, looking at me with killing eyes, which I don’t really understand since he’s always been on my side when I rejected last projects for the same reason.

“Yeah, sure. We just thought it would be better if Kira’s enemy isn’t her mother but her father. This way, we can avoid some future problems with angry mothers” one of the workers points out in the presentation, the part where all of the changes appear. I frown, disgusted. “We can also make her boyfriend the good guy instead of just another enemy—you know, for the love scenes we need to create a fandom” A good boyfriend? In real life? I cannot help laughing sarcastically at this, to which Beomgyu hits me with his elbow on my arm. “And she might also change a little bit—see, this is Kira before, and this might be her after” the picture on the presentation shows the draw Beomgyu made with my instructions. I told him to use only black ink, and draw it very messy. I remember the day we decided that this art style was just perfect for my book. When I created Kira I was thinking of the worst part of the world, I even got inspired by my own life. She’s too thin because she had very poor eating habits, she’s tall, her hair is messy and greasy and the clothes she wears are made for someone bigger. Which makes a big contrast with the whole new character they made—this Kira is short, and has a big pair of round boobs, a tiny waist and big thighs; her hair is pretty and… she just seems like another video game girl character.

“We will skip her eating disorder, and she will not die at the end. There’s obviously more changes to do, but those are the most important ones”

Everyone looks at me while I try to do as much as I can in order to not explode there and then. I feel just so offended that I cannot even speak. Even if I open my mouth, nothing comes out.

I stand up, take my papers and get out of the office, not even worrying if Beomgyu tries to hold me once again.

After an hour or two of getting back home, I finally start to calm down. That’s exactly when Beomgyu enters home too.

“Fuck, you could have waited for me, you know?” He wasn’t mad, that’s just his usual behavior.

“Seoli, we need to talk” I do not turn around to face him, keeping up on reading the instructions of the new bedroom lamp I just bought. “Seoli” he takes my hand, forcing me to turn around. “Why do you keep rejecting any minor change in your books?”

I turn my eyes. “You should know that, Gyu. My books are all too personal. If I write something is because I feel it, and I don’t like it to be changed”

“Yeah, I understand that, but you cannot keep rejecting every opportunity you have” he sighs. “See, babe, I think this is the best company you’ve been contacted by, and if you want to succeed, you should sign with them”

I frown. “Why do you like this company that much? I’ve rejected thousands of companies before, and you always supported me”

“I’m just looking for the best for both of us. We’re twenty now, but soon, we’re gonna be thirty, and forty, and fifty; we need to make money for the future… this isn’t a big company—small enough for you to be important and ask for almost everything you want, but also big enough to succeed monetarily and as an artist. This is just what we need”

“I don’t care about the money, everything I care about is being loyal to myself. I won’t sell myself and my art to some shitty company. The things they said to me in that reunion were almost insulting! How the fuck am I supposed to be fine while seeing one of my deepest books being thrown away this bad and be happy with it because I MIGHT get two hundred dollars a month from now on?! Specially in this one book!… this is almost my own autobiography…” the last words were almost audible, very low in contrast with the rest of my screams. It hurts my heart as I said it.

I see some kind of compassion in my colleague’s eyes. We never talked too deeply about it, but I did tell him that most of my books have some kind of self insert somewhere, but never as important as this one.

He takes my body in his hands, hugging me so comfortably as one only time before—when I confessed to him, and he said sorry because he couldn’t correspond to me.

He moves apart without letting me go, and unexpectedly, takes the back of my neck and kisses me. He only touches my lips with his once, moving away just a little, and then kisses me deeper when I take the back of his neck also with my right hand and his shoulder with my left hand.

He’s gentle at first, only leaving some close mouthed kisses on my lips, until he notices I’m more eager, and then, he devours my mouth whole like it's the last thing he’s gonna do on earth.

His hands travel all over my body as he starts kissing the side of my neck, sucking on my skin, biting and then licking, to which I cannot do anything but hum in pleasure—he touches my back, caresses my waist and pushes the hem of my gray shirt up.

I squeeze his shoulder when he take off my shirt and starts kissing my clavicles, and scream of pleasure as he bites the bone.

While devouring my torax, he manages to take off my black bralette, and kisses all of the skin of my small breasts, making me wonder if he actually likes the curvy girls he shows me of it it’s always been nothing but a façade in order to no look like a pervert.

He takes my hand from the back of his neck, moving away from me, unbuttoning my low-rise jeans and lowering my panties, then guiding me to sit on the couch. I oblige, and soon he’s kissing my body again, my abdomen, my pelvis, my thighs—which he takes and puts them over his shoulders before looking at me, right in the eyes as if looking for consent, but keeps going without a second of thought.

I scream when I feel his muscle exploring all of my cunt without a warning.

“Gyu-“ I moan while tapping his back with the tip of my foot.

He notices I got more sensitive everytime he stimulates my clitoris with his tongue, so he decides to do precisely this while one of his fingers caresses my entrance. A second finger enters, and he starts scissoring as if measuring if something will be able to come in.

My hand found its way on Beomgyu’s fluffy hair, which I take strongly trying to move it apart but also trying to keep it as close as I can.

Once he positions himself on the perfect way to have me screaming his name once and again and again, he starts doing it nonstop, faster, and holding my body by my pelvic area so I don’t move too much. My whole body trembles from pleasure, and I feel the knot on my lower abdomen tightening so much I feel it’s about to break.

And within thirty seconds morr, my whole body spasms under his, while I scream nonesenses and cry his name. He keeps on licking my whole cunt, cleaning me from my orgasm, making me cry at the oversensitivity. I try to push his face away, however, my strength after an orgasm is always null.

He goes back to the same speed as earlier, to which I scream: “Too much, gyu!”, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, his pace becomes even faster, making my head spin as I unexpectedly orgasm once again, faster than the first time.

He caresses my pelvic bones, licking my juices from his face. He stands up and kisses my lips once again, letting me taste my own cum.

I hear his right hand unbuttoning his jeans while his left hand helps him hover over me. I hear his clothes fall to the ground, and then, his tip touches my left thigh. I move away from the kiss for a second, moaning as I mentally prepare myself for having sex after one and a half large years of not being active.

“I know it’s always been hard to go through changes, babe,” he mutters in between kisses. “but everything I’m doing is looking for the best for you. You’re really successful with your books, but you don’t know if it will ever change as you grow up” the contrast between his lovely words and his condescending voice tone, and his hand lifting one of my legs up to my ribs making me go crazy. “Besides, you can ask for any change you want, and as long as it doesn’t make the game too disturbing for kids under twelve years old, they will accept it” the tip of his cock touches my clitoris at first, and then, he explores my whole cunt, looking too casual in contrast with my high expression. “Seoli, I will always be by your side” and suddenly, that option didn’t seem like trash anymore.

With that, he puts the head of his cock inside my entrance, to which I scream squeezing his shoulder. He goes back to kiss my clavicles while going on until he bottoms out. Feeling his tip against my spongy point, the deepest part of my cunt, makes me forget about all of the doubts I have, and I already know that the second I wake up tomorrow, I will be calling the company and ask for them to meet again.

He doesn’t give me time to get used to his big size, and starts moving immediately after he bottoms out, at a savage pace that makes my head spin. The way he’s hitting my cervix strongly over and over again has me cumming after less than two or three minutes. He doesn’t stop there though, and doesn’t even slow down. The second orgasm comes after maybe five minutes more, much more intense and piercing. My legs tremble, and he chuckles while taking my other leg and lifting it up to my chest also, making his cock go even deeper.

He holds both my legs up with one hand while the other stimulates my clitoris in circular motion, nonstoping, without giving me time to recover.

I cum once again, and my whole body feels so tense I feel like I'm about to break.

“Gyu-yu, I can’t anymore” I cry, the tears spilling from the corner of my eyes as I take his shoulders, trying to move his body away from mine. “please”

“I know, sweet, but you’re gonna help me cum too, right? You’re not a selfish princess, right?” His face is not close to mine now, and my legs find their way on his shoulders while he prepares himself for fucking my cunt faster and stronger than before.

I squeeze the silk of the couch, while my tears run down my face and all over the couch, and I scream his name over and over. His pace becoming even more animalistic as I feel his cock twitch inside of my vagina, the heat inside of me making me feel like I’m about to be torn there and then. The feeling is so unbearable, but also addictive. At this point, I don’t even understand myself.

He cums inside of me with a guttural growl, and keeps fucking his cum in for some seconds before using his hand to try to put his cum in when it tries to escape. I cum on his fingers one last time, and he leaves a kiss on my forehead.

(…)

I fix my lanyard with my work ID on my neck, holding my drawing tablet and the handmade sketches I’ve made.

“Oh, see! There’s coffee over there!” Beomgyu says amazed.

“Every company has coffee for workers, Gyu”

He goes to get a cup while I look for the office. The boss asked me to meet her once I accepted working with her. I signed the contract a week ago after making her accept the clause of letting my opinion be the most important one over there.

“Oh, Seoli!” That voice… it’s just impossible to forget it. “Oh my god, I’m so excited to see you again! Ever since high school I knew you were gonna succeed, you’re so talented!”

We went to high school together, and after we graduated, we also went to the same college. She stuck to me since then, but I never liked her a lot. She wasn’t a bad person, I just didn’t match her energy. However, I did everything I could in order to separate her from me in college, right after I realized Beomgyu liked her. Beomgyu and I met at college—the three of us decided to study an art major—, and it took us only one semester to start living together as roommates, and two more months to start working together on the animation of my books. We left college so we could put all of our time on making money with the animations, and luckily, that was enough for Beomgyu to forget her. At least that was what I thought.

“Dami? Do you work here?” I ask.

“Kind of. My mother is the owner of this company, and she likes me to participate on all of the projects. We’re gonna be a team! Just like in college!” She says with a big smile. “Where’s Beomgyu, by the way?”

Everything makes sense suddenly, why did he get so excited when I received the invitation to this company, and why was he so eager for me to come, and why did he want me to stay here.

I turn around slowly, and as soon as I find him with a scared expression, I feel my eyes ache.

He fucked me so he could get a chance with the one girl he likes.

How dumb.