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iamvegorott · 5 months

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Meeting A Magical Man Pt. 49

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“I can not believe you would have been so stupid!” Henrik scolded, smacking Chase’s arm with one of Mad’s notebooks, having it rolled up into a proper weapon. “A gun!? You brought a gun!? Dark could have killed you!”

“But he didn’t!” Chase protested, flinching away from each hit.

“But he could have!”

“At least I’m not the one getting hit this time,” Marvin said.

“Oh, you are not getting off so easily either!” Henrik turned and started smacking Marvin’s arm.

“Ow, Hen!”

“Your plan was to run!? Run where!? Where would go!?” Each question ended with a smack.

“I don’t know! I would have figured it out!”

“So, you got created through magic and science?” Mad asked, unaffected by the chaos while he sat on the couch with Mare and Robbie.

“Yeah? Well, I mean, I was brought back to life. I died as a baby, and Dad brought me back through some sort of necromancy.” Robbie answered.

“May I feel your pulse?” Mad glanced down when he noticed Mare’s arm around his waist. He looked over his shoulder and saw Mare staring off at a wall and just shrugged, assuming he just wanted a little bit of a hug.

“Sure.” Robbie held his arm out.

“Thank you.” Mad pressed two fingers to Robbie’s wrist.

“Neither of you are allowed to do anything like that again!” Henrik smacked Marvin one more time before turning and giving Chase another smack.

“Okay!” Marvin and Chase both said.

“Good!” Henrik huffed, unrolled the notebook, and placed it back on the coffee table where he had taken it from. He fixed his shirt and took a deep breath. “I am glad you are okay.”

“‘Please tell me this is going to be the last time we get told about something dangerous you have done.” Edward sighed.

“Probably not,” Marvin said with a click of his tongue. “I still have work, and that-”

“No. Nope, stop. I do not want to know all those dirty details.” Henrik cut Marvin off. “At least Chase’s employment has safety measures they follow.”

“When they finally call me back, it will,” Chase muttered.

“I am sure you will get a call any moment,” Henrik said.

“There’s supposed to be a new one-oh shit.” Chase took his phone out when it started buzzing. “Yancy’s calling. I’ll be right back.” He said as he stepped out of the room, answering the call.

“Aw, there goes my bodyguard,” Marvin said with a fake pout.

“Your pulse feels regular.” Mad hummed. “Could I listen to your heart?”

“Yeah, you want to just put your ear to my chest?” Robbie asked.

“That works. Mare, could you let go? I can’t move.” Mad tapped at Mare’s arm.

“Nope.”

“Nope? I’m just listening to his heart. You don’t need to hug me for that.”

“That’s fine. I can move closer to you.” Robbie offered and started moving.

“Nope.” Mare pulled Mad back. Mad yelped a little at suddenly finding himself lying across Mare’s back.

“Mare! What was that for!?” Mad huffed, trying to squirm away, but the arm across his chest made it impossible. Robbie blinked a few times before it clicked, and he said, much louder than intended,

“You’re jealous!”

“Well, that didn’t take long.” Edward chuckled while Marvin started laughing, and Henrik put a hand over his mouth to hold back his own.

“Sorry.” Robbie weakly chuckled and moved away.

“I am not jealous,” Mare stated.

“Are you really going to say that while you have Mad trapped in your lap like a dragon with their hoard?” Marvin giggled his tease.

“I just want to study Robbie.” Mad tried to sit up, but Mare pulled his back down. “I will burst into flames!” His threat was joined by him throwing both hands in the air.

“Nope.” Mare used his other arm to put down both of Mad’s. “Now allowed.”

“Stop ‘noping’ me.” Mad huffed.

“Nope.” Mare kissed Mad’s forehead, and that was enough to get Mad to stop his attempts to escape while also making his cheeks flush pink.

“They’re adorable,” Marvin said with a little shimmy. “You should kiss Henrik’s forehead more.” He added to Edward.

“I can do that.” Edward chuckled with a wink to Henrik.

“I-do not-stop.” Henrik stammered a bit as he got the same shade of pink on his cheeks.

“As long as I’m not around to see it.” Robbie played up a fake gag.

“Chase, darling, we’re going to start…is everything okay?” Marvin noticed how Chase looked off when he returned to the room, his phone still in hand.

“Yancy said I got blacklisted,” Chase said, sounding in shock.

“Blacklisted? From construction?” Marvin asked.

“From anyone that has my resume. Yanc said Illinois was trying to set up a crew for a new building, and when he pulled up my stuff, an alert went out about me. Saying I wasn’t to be hired because I’m dangerous.” Chase shook his head, still trying to process it. “How does that even happen?”

“Do you think that maybe Dark did it?” Henrik suggested. “He has a lot under his name. A call from him could ruin a career.”

“You threatened Anti,” Marvin said. “This wouldn’t be too far from something he’d do.”

“What do I do about work now? I only know construction.”

“You’ve been my bodyguard for a while. I don’t mind keeping you hired under me.” Marvin tried to help the mood how he usually does and hugged Chase’s arm as he spoke.

“I can’t pay my mortgage with that.” Chase placed his hand on Marvin’s, showing that he did appreciate what he was doing.

“Think you can look scary while a bunch of drunk people dance around?” Mare asked.

“Uh…I guess?” Chase made a confused face.

“Phantom had some security guys move on, and he’s still short one more with me coming back. Want to come work with me and Jackie?”

“It might be the only job I can get.” Chase weakly laughed.

“We’ll talk to him when he gets home. I start up again tomorrow night as well, so I can show you the ropes and everything.”

“Thanks, dude.”

“Are assless chaps part of the uniform, or is that just something Phantom does?” Marvin asked with a giggle.

“He does what?”

“Whoops.”

x~x~x

Mad leaned his hands against the counter as he watched Marvin make a sleepy-time tea, as he called it. He watched the leaves get added to some sort of filter that rested on a mug.

“This should help you relax and sleep easier tonight, darling,” Marvin explained, flicking his hand when the kettle on the stove started whistling, making it shift and settle on a burner that wasn’t on. That was the only time he really used magic while making his tea, especially if others were around.

“Why didn’t you offer to make me fancy tea instead of your potion?” Chase asked.

“Henrik wouldn’t have sent you to me if fancy tea would have solved your problem.” Marvin picked up the kettle and started pouring the boiling water over the leaves.

“Well, that and because you’d think I’m cute.” Chase pushed his lips out and made kissing noises.

“It is a very nice bonus.” Marvin took hold of Chase’s chin and guided him into a quick kiss, checking that Mad was focused on watching the tea brew before doing so.

“Chase! We’re gonna be coworkers!” Jackie cheered as he came into the kitchen. His face was flushed, and his shirt was missing, glitter decorating his chest. “Me, you, and Mare are gonna scare the shit out of anyone that tries to like fuck with anything.”

“Is he drunk?” Marvin asked as Phantom and Mare came in after Jackie.

“He’s off-duty tonight.” Phantom chuckled.

“And the glitter?”

“I got bored~”

“Maddy!” Jackie went over to Mad and placed both hands on his shoulders. “I heard you and Mare got together! That is so cool! You guys like kissed and stuff! You’re gonna be my other brother-in-law!” He squealed and hugged Mad. Their height difference caused Mad’s face to end up right in Jackie’s chest. Mad went stiff, and when Mare managed to pull Jackie away, glitter was on his very red face.

“Jackie-bear, you’re going to break him.” Phantom giggled and helped guide Jackie’s attention away from Mad, waving off the glare Mare was giving Jackie. “I think it’s time for bed.”

“But I’m not tired.” Jackie now hugged Phantom, tucking his face into the crook of his neck.

“You don’t have to be. There are a lot of things we can do on it~”

“Oh! I get what you’re implying!” Jackie sounded so proud. “Yeah!” He said and started kissing at Phantom’s neck.

“Hold on there!” Phantom laughed. “Good night!” He said to the others before snapping his fingers and sending him and Jackie away.

“Does everyone act like that drunk?” Mad asked.

“Not everyone,” Mare answered, using a wet dish towel to get the glitter off Mad’s face.

“It’s not too uncommon to get all touchy when you’ve had a few drinks.” Marvin hummed. “Although, I don’t need it to want to play~” He added with a purr and tugged at the front of Chase’s shirt. “Your tea’s done, dear. Help yourself,” Marvin said as he walked Chase out of the room by his shirt.

“There, that’s the best I’m going to be able to get that stuff off.” Mare sat the towel into the sink, saving that for tomorrow to deal with. “Ready for bed?”

“Bed or…bed.” The last word came out very strained since Mad wasn’t really used to implications.

“Do you want it to be that second one?” Mare asked.

“I-I mean that’s…that’s what you're supposed…since we’re…you know…together and stuff.” Mad struggled to speak as he looked at the ground, chewing his lip and having to take some deep breaths.

“There’s no rush.” Mare placed a hand on Mad’s cheek and gently guided him to look up. “It’s for whenever you’re ready. We’ll go slow, as slow as you need. Just tell me what you want, when you want, and I’ll happily follow.” He smiled as he rubbed his thumb against his cheek. “You’re my starlight now. That’s all I care about.”

“Starlight?”

“A little pet name I’ve had in my head for you.”

“Why starlight?”

“Your freckles remind me of the stars.”

“Oh…” Mad softly giggled, blushing deeply. “Mare?”

“Yes?”

“I’d like a kiss.”

“I can do that.” Mare chuckled and leaned in, pressing their lips together as his other hand held Mad’s waist. Mad closed his eyes with a happy hum and wrapped his arms around his neck.

“I told you they were fine,” Marvin whispered from where he and Chase hid. “Now, as we were.” He went back to pulling on Chase’s shirt and walked them into his bedroom.

----------

Tags: @brokentimewatch @bookwormscififan @d-structive @rainymae523 @ashtonisvibing

#meeting a magical man #trickshot #veggie writes #drunk jackie is fun XD

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acaiasahi · 2 years

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✶ seasons ; kang minhee.

synopsis. your love for one another changing and evolving the whole year round.

info. fluff. kang minhee x gn!reader [ they / them prns ]. 1,543 words.

warnings. grammatical and structural errors, lowercase and smaller text intended, proofread-ish!

[ now playing . . . ] dear soulmate by laufey.

he watches in awe as you babble on, endless topics spewing from your pretty lips that he so badly wants to kiss but he holds back. a soft smile grows onto his face, his cheeks turning a beautiful love-filled hue as you look up at him as if you were awaiting his answer.

you tilt your head to the side, the silence calm and comfortable. his whole face turns red, embarrassed for making you wait. "i-i'm sorry, could you say that again?" he asks bashfully.

a giggle bubbles from your throat, hand linking with his as you pull him along the floralscapes. "i said, do you mind taking a picture of me?" minhee nods, i mean, how could he say no when you asked so nicely?

you pose amongst the flowers, putting them to shame against your beauty. both of you grin from ear to ear like a pair of lovesick fools, a dreamy sigh floats past his lips as his thumb continuously taps the camera button.

"so pretty," he mumbles quite loudly to himself. your face is caked with a humorous expression, "sorry, i didn't mean to say that out lou—"

"it's okay, you're pretty too," you smile up at him before looking down at your phone and scrolling through the pictures. minhee feels his heart drop to the floor, a flurry of coral flushing his cheeks.

yeah, he was definitely done for.

✶ summer.

you play with the mushy sand between your hands, patting and stacking the grains into something that closely resembles a castle as you attempt to distract yourself from the sizzling sun.

looking up from your masterpiece, turning your gaze over to the peacefully sleeping boy next to you. he's laying on his back, sunglasses covering his sleepy eyes.

"of course he took a nap! when has he ever not taken one?" you ask yourself jokingly. you crawl closer into the shaded area where he lay, watching the way he twitches every now and then.

the soft rise and fall of his chest is almost hypnotic when you finally reach him up close. you sit beside him, slowly taking off the sunglasses to fully see his face.

brushing more pieces of his platinum blonde hair out of his eyes, he stirs around before getting comfortable again. you laugh at how his face scrunches up, his nose crinkling and his lips turning into a soft pout due to you disrupting his sleep.

you let him sleep for a little while longer, the sound of the waves and wind whipping past you and relieving you of the swarming heat. time goes by slowly, the sky slowly forming into a cotton candy palette.

minhee stays the same, the noisy beach-goers not even close to swaying his slumber. you press featherlight kisses upon his face before whispering to him, luring him into consciousness.

"mini, wake up," you say softly. nothing but an adoring smile on your face, eyebrows raised as you watch his eyes flick side to side under his eyelids.

not long after, he opens one eye to give the person who bothered him a piece of his sleepy mind. his angry expression quickly fading to one of love as his eyes land on your hovering form.

you laugh at him, his whole reaction reminding you of a toddler who had gotten their toy taken away. "morning, my love!" you say sweetly before chuckling.

"how can i get you to stop napping like this?" you ask jokingly, tracing random shapes upon his bare chest. his laugh is throaty as he rubs the sleep from his eyes, "hm, how about a trillion kisses?"

you groan at his flirting, "deal." you leave a soft peck upon his lips to shut him up, but it's not like he was complaining.

✶ fall.

the unexpected rainy weather had muddled your date plans, so with no other option, you both decided to stay inside and enjoy each other's company.

you hear soft padding against the wooden floors, "here, honey," minhee mutters softly. you turn around to see him holding two mugs, you wonder what's inside them. as if on cue, he speaks up.

"it's hot cocoa, kinda feel like it's the perfect weather to have it," he says with a shrug before jutting the mug out for you to grab.

your stone cold hands quickly grab the harry potter themed cup, chilly fingers warming up. you hold it close as minhee takes a seat opposite of you. placing your legs atop of his as he uses his free hand to graze his fingertips against your shin affectionately.

your gaze is stuck on the window that's littered with droplets of water. the pitter-patter somewhat soothing despite it being the cause of your plan's downfall.

"i wish we could go out," you say dejectedly. sighing, you look back at the messy-haired boy, "are you saying that you'd rather be outside than cooped up with little ol' me?" he asks with mock offense.

a snort fills your tiny apartment, "oh, knock it off!" you start, "that's not what i meant and y'know that." minhee nods along before placing a hand on his chest dramatically.

"i never thought you'd hurt me like this, y/n. out of all people!" he whines before placing his mug upon the window sill and cradling his head in his hands.

you laugh at the little show he's putting on, "wherever you go, i'm right there with you. end of story." you say sincerely, taking one of his hands in yours and kissing the back of it.

minhee giggles at the ticklish feeling, before shyly smiling and returning the kiss on your nose.

"you missed," pointing at your lips with a cheeky smile slapped onto your face. minhee chuckles at your straightforwardness before leaning in and placing a soft kiss where you had asked.

✶ winter.

the biting winter weather causes you to snuggle into your puffer jacket, hands stuffed in your pockets in search of warmth.

minhee watches you shiver as you take a late night stroll along the han river, a frown automatically finds it's way to his lips. he scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your hunched shoulders.

"any better?" he asks, you nod sheepishly before muttering a soft 'better'.

you lazily throw an arm around his waist, pulling him closer with a cheeky smile on your face. you'd be deemed crazy if you were to pass up on the opportunity to have your lover closer to you.

"it's freezing," teeth chattering with every word that was spoken. your voice was soft, almost like a whisper as minhee laughs due to your frozen state.

your pout grows, removing yourself from lanky limbs. your footsteps stop, leaving you stationary. he whips around, looking at you in confusion. "stop laughing at me, i'm cold!" you say with a frown, crossing your arms.

minhee rolls his eyes, "so dramatic!" he walks over to you and envelopes you into a bone crushing hug. "can we stay like this?" you ask, sighing into his chest.

you feel the rumble in his chest as he speaks, "wouldn't want it any other way, sweetheart."

butterflies erupt in your stomach, you face being shoved deeper in his chest as you grow embarrassed because of his words.

"aw, is my honey shy?" he coos at you, lifting your head to look at him. forefinger and thumb tucked under your chin as he leans in for a kiss.

minhee's hands fly to your hips, rubbing soft circles as his kisses never let up. you pull away gently, opening your eyes to see him chasing after your lips. taking mercy on the tall boy, you leave a few pecks along his face before leaving the last on his lips.

"i love you," his voice small and only for you to hear. he leans his forehead against yours, eyes closed in content.

though the cold weather already flushing your faces in soft strawberry hue, the color grows deeper due to his affectionate words towards you.

there was this air of enchantment swarming you two, the feeling becoming addictive as you both stay still in each other's arms.

"i love you too," you whisper to him and only him. he hums in acknowledgment before leaving a kiss on your head. "not as much as i love you though," he jokes, his gaze coming back to yours.

scoffing at his challenge, "yeah, sure you do," you say sarcastically before smiling up at him. your laughter grows as you stay huddled together.

his laughter fades while you continue giggling to yourself, hands coming up to cover your face. minhee watches intently, and despite the cold, dreary weather, your presence reminds him of sunlight.

your aura reminds him of a honeycomb gold, your laughs drawn out because of him. you were perfect, everything he's ever wanted in life. god, you were the love his life and there was no doubt about it.

two years of the earth traveling around the sun, your love wasn't even close to being swayed by the seasons.

this is what love is.

★ cravity taglist. @kflixnet ... @ficscafe ... @enhacolor ... @alohajun ... @minisxng ... @setakdongies ... @sunoo-bby ... @dancinginthetaillight ... @changmin-wrlds ... @existnesia ... @i-luvsang

[ 🎧 ] jaydi's notes. actually rly proud on how this one turned out. had the rudest, most meanest writers block for a sec so it's good to put smth i genuinely like out so slayyyy

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sapphireginger · 10 months

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Title: At Our Ex-Spence - Chapter #3

Summary:

“Ah. Well, what can I say, Little Red?” he purrs as he comes up behind Stiles who has managed to get into his underwear, pants and shirt. “I think you should wear a little red .”

“Hardy har har,” Stiles retorts drily. “Someone is in a snarky mood this morning.”

Square Filled: Found Family

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Warnings: None

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Steter [Stiles Stilinski + Peter Hale]

Full AO3 Link

@thebo3bingo

The next morning, Stiles wakes up with his nose buried in Peter’s neck and the wolf’s arms wrapped around him. He huffs making the man grumble and then pulls away. Peter tightens his hold making Stiles laugh. “Dude. I have class. Let go.”

“No,” Peter grumbles, even as he loosens his hold enough for the amber eyed man to get up. “I’ll get your shirt and you shower.”

Stiles pouts. “You say that like I smell or something.” His eyes widen and he subtly—not subtle at all—sniffs. “Oh. I kind of do.”

This gets him an eye roll of epic proportions to which he responds by sticking out his tongue.

“Love you too dear!” Peter calls out after him as a now very red faced Stiles darts into the bathroom and shuts the door.

When he emerges bright eyed and smelling like rain, petrichor and lavender with an undercurrent of lightning and cinnamon, he eyes the clothes with a bemused look. “Peter?”

“Hm,” the wolf hums. “Something wrong?”

Stiles startles and glances at his bed where the wolf has taken it upon himself to make himself at home. Not that Stiles minds although he won’t admit that out loud. “I can’t wear this.” He holds up the tie. “Black is required.”

“Is it?”

“Wha—Yes!”

“Ah. Well, what can I say, Little Red?” he purrs as he comes up behind Stiles who has managed to get into his underwear, pants and shirt. “I think you should wear a little red.”

“Hardy har har,” Stiles retorts drily. “Someone is in a snarky mood this morning.”

“Whatever do you mean darling boy? I am always in a snarky mood.” Peter holds out a bag that smells divine. “Enjoy lunch. You’d better get going. Don’t want to be late. Unless of course it’s your turn since your twin was late yesterday.”

Stiles glares at him without heat. “Fuck you dude.”

Peter smirks. “That doesn’t sound like begging and when you actually want to fuck and I want to fuck you, you’ll be begging before I give in.”

A crimson faced Stiles hurriedly grabs his things and bolts out the door. “Asshole,” he swears under his breath.

Of course, Peter hears it. “Love you too!”

✶ 🔎 ❤︎ 🔍 ✶

When the alarm goes off Stuart curses and bolts back into the bedroom to turn it off. Unfortunately, he’s not able to do so before said alarm wakes up his girlfriend. She glares at him with the most adorable pout that terrifies him at the same time. “Uh. Good morning, babe.”

She frowns and then sighs, shaking her head. “Why weren’t you in bed?” she asks softly. “Couldn’t sleep?”

He blushes sheepishly. “Sort of? It’s—I was—I mean—” He sighs. “Come see for yourself.”

When they reach the room that he’s claimed as office space her eyes widen. “Holy shit!” she exclaims, though her voice doesn’t rise at all.

“Yeah. I couldn’t let it go. I need to know and well…” he trails off, giving a one shoulder shrug.

“You researched,” she finishes for him and smiles softly. “I want to hear everything, but you have to get ready.” She punctuates this with a kiss to his cheek that he quickly turns to catch with his own lips.

For a few minutes she lets him before pulling back with a soft laugh. It makes him smile. “I love you.”

Allison beams at him with dimples that are to die for. “I love you too handsome.”

Before he can lean in for another kiss she tuts and points. “Shower. Class. Now.”

“All right. All right.” He raises his hands in surrender, noticing her lips twitch slightly. “I’m going. You wanna shower with me?”

“Not this time. We both know Spencer won’t let you get out of being late two days in a row. Plus…” She gestures to the board of information behind her. “The answer to your questions sits right next to you for an entire hour.”

That is a fair point indeed and all that is needed to get Stuart in and out of the shower in record time. He quickly dresses, grabs his bag, kisses his girlfriend–twice when she hands him a packed lunch–and is out the door with plenty of time to spare.

✶ 🔎 ❤︎ 🔍 ✶

Stiles stops at a coffee shop before parking in the lot and heading inside. It’s surreal to be here and he is eager to learn. However, if he’s learned anything during his time as the boy who runs with wolves, it’s that things can change in an instant.

One minute you’re hiking looking for a dead body and the next—TA DA—your best friend is a werewolf. He still feels the guilt over Isaac’s turning but then again it brought him, Jackson and Stiles closer. He loves them despite everything and now that he thinks about it, he should really call them. After the big twin thing yesterday, he sort of forgot.

“NAT Stilinski?”

Stiles’s head snaps up and he offers a shy smile. “SSA Reid.”

Spencer clears his throat and nods at his coworkers as he makes his way over to Stiles. “I was hoping to speak to you for a moment.”

“Okay. Shoot dude.” His eyes widen and he pales. “I-I mean. Okay,” he squeaks.

This elicits a laugh from the older man and Stiles blushes lightly. “Relax, Stiles. We’re just two people talking.”

Stiles snorts. “Two people related by blood who have never met before and are suddenly in positions of power one over the other.”

Spencer blinks, his former lightheartedness almost vanishing. “Right. Well, I ask that you not dart off after class today. I need to speak to you about something important. Okay?”

“Oh. Yeah sure. Hey uh can I ask you a question?”

“You just did,” Spencer quips.

It makes Stiles grin. “So, what can I call you like in non-formal settings?”

A quirked brow that reminds him of his mother is the response he gets before Spencer replies, “Spencer, Spence or cousin.”

“Huh. Okay so what will you call me?”

“Stiles, Miko or little cousin.”

“My mom called me Miko,” Stiles whispers and then clears his throat. “I thought Stuart was little cousin.”

Reid opens his mouth to reply only for the mentioned man to scramble over. “Spence!”

With an exasperated eye roll Spencer turns slightly towards Stuart. “You made it on time. Color me impressed.”

“Oh, shut up!” Stuart snaps and Stiles blinks his Bambi eyes at the annoyed but mischievous look in his double’s eyes. “Ally got me into gear.”

Stiles glances at Spencer. “How about little cousin one and little cousin two.”

Spencer smirks. “Which would you be?”

“Two obviously.” He gestures a thumb at Stuart. “He was here first.”

“Perhaps but you are the older twin.”

“I am?” Stiles asks with his jaw hanging open. “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.”

The other two men stare at him and then burst out laughing. Stiles is sure the tips of his ears are red by now. He glares at the other two who are wiping tears from their eyes.

“I’ve not heard that one before and that is be-you-ti-full!” Stuart crows and then quickly silences when Spencer clamps a hand on his shoulder.

People aren’t paying them any attention but that doesn’t mean raucous laughter won’t change that.

Stiles huffs. “Dad always said it.” He shoulders past them feeling adrift again. These two—his twin and his cousin—have a bond that he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to think about that though because it only makes his chest feel tight. Stiles is quick to head towards the stairs.

Spencer of course quietly calls after him. “Don’t forget. After class you need to wait.”

“Yes sir.”

✶ 🔎 ❤︎ 🔍 ✶

The twins sit next to each other again. Stuart tries to catch Stiles’s gaze, but the other man is stubbornly avoiding him. Stu does feel kind of bad for laughing. From what he learned through his research, Stiles is all the way across the US now away from his dad and his friends. The least he could do is make him feel welcome.

A lightbulb goes off and he sneakily retrieves a small item from his bag. He quickly scribbles a note on a scrap of paper and passes them both over to his twin. His smile is pleased, when both the Reese's and the note are snagged by his twin. After that Stiles seems to relax and Stuart feels a weight lifted off his shoulders. He’s just debating whether or not to ask Stiles to join him for lunch when class ends.

Before he gets a chance to ask, Stiles is down front with Spencer and the two are talking in hushed tones. When he tries to join in, Spencer gives a subtle shake of his head. Stuart tenses and then nods sharply before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

He doesn’t like it one bit. Spencer is his cousin too and he’s known him longer. Suddenly, Stiles shows up and he’s like this new shiny version. There is no one like Stuart and no photocopy wannabe version is going to change that. Nor is said copy going to take away what little family Stuart has.

Lunch is forgotten and Stuart hits the library for genealogical records on the Gajos family. He needs answers and he needs them now.

#teen wolf #bingoofourown #bo3bingo #stiles stilinski #peter hale #fluff #light angst #steter #steter fic #square filled: found family #stuart stilinski #allison argent #spencer reid #chapter 3 #new chapter

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feyhunter78 · 1 year

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Snapdragons (5/?)

Description: Maeria and Elrond take a walk in the gardens and realize there might be something more than friendship between them

She settled in the room given to her when there was a knock at her door. She opened it to find Elrond.

“Elrond? Can I help you?”

He held an arm out to her. “I thought you might enjoy a walk through the gardens before you slept.”

She linked arms with him. “That would be wonderful, thank you.”

They walked for a while, Elrond pointing out different flowers, and telling her tales of his childhood, she laughed at his more humorous stories, and squeezed his arm in comfort at his sadder ones. Finally, they came upon a bench and they both sat down.

“Thank you for comforting me during dinner.” She said, meeting his warm eyes. They seemed to glow in the moonlight, and she felt herself drawn into them.

“I am sure it can be worrying to face the High King of any race.” Elrond said.

Maeria shifted, and her knees brushed his, but neither moved away. “Lord Celebrimbor seems quite interested in your romantic endeavors.”

Elrond chuckled and shook his head. “Ever since I began working under him, he has taken an interest in the fine details of my life.”

“I think it’s sweet.” She said, smiling at the faint pink that tinted Elrond’s prominent cheekbones. “I am unsure of Elven courtship rituals. I worried that I would say something that would place the wrong idea in his mind while I answered his questions.”

“You answered them perfectly.” He reassured, before he bent down and picked a glowing flower and tucked it behind her ear. “Beautiful.”

Maeria glanced at the flowers around them. “They really are, I could spend forever in this garden.”

“I have you to thank as well.” Elrond said, a blush tainting his cheeks. “For defending me to Lord Celebrimbor, you did not have to do that, and I am grateful to you.”

“I meant what I said, you would be a wonderful husband.”

They both find other things of interest to stare at before Maeria finds her voice once more. “Are courting someone now, or interested in courting someone? You mentioned a friend? Galadriel?” Tried to keep the jealousy out of her voice, but fears she’s failed.

“She is a dear friend, and a dear friend only.”

“So, there is someone else you wish to pursue?” The thought of Elrond wishing to court someone makes her stomach turn and jealousy curl tighter around her heart.

Elrond fiddles with his cloak, and she takes his silence for an answer.

“My apologies, I have pushed too far. Matters of your heart belong to you alone.”

“I fear they do not belong to only me.” He whispered, more to himself than her.

She goes to ask him what he means, but with a swift movement, he cups her face and kisses her.

She freezes for a moment, and he goes to pull away, but she loops her arms around his neck and pulls him back. He tastes like sun warmed honey, and she craves more. His movements are unsteady at first, but then he finds his footing, and she’s melting into him.

Her hand tangles itself in his hair, and her other hand grips the front of his tunic. “Is it me? Do the matters of your heart belong to me as well?” She asked, breathless between kisses, as Elrond’s silver tongue sought entrance beyond her lips.

“Yes, my starlight, they do.” He replied, before his tongue slipped past her lips, and she was lost in the taste of him.

They finally parted for air, chests heaving, Maeria’s hand still gripping his tunic. “I have no other matters; my heart is yours.” She said, untangling her hand from his hair.

He takes her free hand and presses it to his lips. “We must part and rest, we return to the mountain with Durin at first light.”

“You will not stay with me?” She asked hesitantly. To be kissed in such a way then to be told to leave, even in Elrond’s kind way, feels like a dagger to the heart.

Elrond smoothed down her hair, twirling a lock around his finger. “Elven culture is different from that of humans. We do not rush into physical intimacy at the same speed they do.”

Maeria blushes. “Oh—no, I meant, just sleeping, nothing besides sleeping next to one another, I fear I’ll have another nightmare.” It isn’t a lie, but it’s not the truth. While she fears her nightmares, they don’t repeat themselves two nights in a row.

Elrond looks thoughtful for a moment, then a cunning smile appears on his face. “We shall retire to our separate chambers, but then I will meet you in your room. Keep your balcony door unlocked.” He presses the lock of hair to his lips, then unwinds it and stands.

“Alright.” She manages to stutter out, throughly flustered by his actions.

“Might I walk my starlight to her room?” He holds out his arm for her.

She takes it. “You may.”

He walks her to her room, then bids her goodnight.

Her room is beautiful, everything in Lindon is beautiful, but it’s too quiet. She misses her room back in Khazad-dûm. Misses the slight rumbling of the water mills, the quiet snores of Gerda and Gamil who sleep in the room across from hers. Her door stays cracked so if they need her, she can be up in a moment and across the hall.

Now she lies on a bed so soft it could be made of clouds, with silken sheets and pillows that are far too soft for her liking. Getting up, she moves to unlock the balcony doors, pulling the gauzy curtains back just enough so Elrond knows she’s still awake.

Maeria lies back on the bed, closing her eyes and trying to force her body to relax. Moments later, the balcony doors slide open, and she sits up.

Elrond is dressed in simple sleeping clothes of earthen tones. His hair is ruffled, and he shuts the curtains behind him, ensuring their privacy.

“My starlight.” He greeted her, crossing the room to sit on the bed beside her, blowing out the last remaining candle as he does.

“My love.” She greets back, reaching out for him.

He takes her hands and moves to lay next to her. “I missed you.”

She smiles and knows he can see it even though the light of the moon is diffused by the curtains. “You saw me no less than an hour ago.”

He smiles back and caresses her cheek. “And yet it felt like an eternity.”

Her heart skips a beat, and she prays he can’t hear it. “You are much too charming, for so late at night.”

Elrond closed his eyes and shifted until he was comfortable on his back. “Apologies, I shall save my praises for the morning then.” He teased lightheartedly.

Maeria giggled and shifted until she was comfortable as well, laying on her stomach, her head on his chest. “I will await them anxiously then.”

Elrond’s arms encircled her, and he let out a deep breath, as his body relaxed under hers. “Goodnight, Maeria.” He said softly.

“Goodnight Elrond.” She waited until she thought he was asleep to speak again. “I will not have another nightmare tonight; I merely hate sleeping alone. I’m used to hearing Durin’s family around me, I’m sorry I lied.” She whispered, lightly gripping his sleeping tunic as she drifted off to sleep.

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir

#elrond x oc #elrond rop #rop elrond #young elrond #elrond x reader #this one is so soft and I love it #meg's writing #rings of power fanfiction #the rings of power #rop fanfiction #Snapdragons #elrond peredhel #this is the only fic that's like one chapter away from where I am on AO3 which is kinda funny to me #Maeria of the Southlands

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ericshoney · 2 years

Text

Taken ~ Chapter nineteen

Y/n POV

Its been two weeks since Niki was hurt but he's healed well and is back on his feet. Heeseung's put him on light duties still though, in case something happens again while he's out. But right now, Heeseung's lips won't stop touching my face.

''Hee, babe calm down, its a meeting.'' I tell him, gently pushing him off.

''Yeah we don't need to see you two making out, we'll be gone an hour.'' Jay mumbles.

''I know, but its the first time since Y/n's arrived that we've all been to a meeting away from the house.'' The eldest responds. I laugh and gently kiss his lips.

''We'll be fine, I'll call if something seems off.'' I tell him. He nods and kisses my cheek, ruffles Thea's hair before leaving with the others. Thea and I watch them leave in the car before settling down on the couch in the living room.

''What you want to watch, Tea?'' I ask the younger female.

''I don't care as long as there's no clowns or hardcore sex.'' She answers, making me laugh. I flick through as she goes to get snacks.

After an hour of watching some movies and eating snacks, Thea dozes off on the couch. I was watching the current movie when I hear a noise from the back door. I pause the movie and slowly get up. When I stick my head around the corner I see the shine of a light and shadows. I rush back to Thea and gently shake her awake.

''Hey whoa, what's going on?'' She calls.

''T-There's someone in the house.'' I respond quickly. She jumps up and take my hand, dragging me to Heeseung's office. She shuts the door and runs over to Heeseung's desk.

''What are you doing?'' I ask.

''Alerting Jungwon. His phone is linked to the house's security system.'' She answers. I watch as she quickly types away on Heeseung's computer. As she is I slowly open the door, not to hear footsteps or voices, but a faint beeping noise.

''Shit Thea they set a b-''

Before I could answer there was a loud explosion. The house shakes as stuff falls of the shelves.

''Bomb.''

''Done! Lets get out!'' Thea shouts.

We rush out the room as I hear another beep. I stop for a moment to see a small ball rolling towards us.

'Thea run!''

Just as I shout, the small device goes off with another bang. Both Thea and I are throw in the air as it explodes. I land on the staircase, feeling nothing but pain. My ears ring as I cough, trying to get air. Everything is blurry, but I can faintly make out flames and clouds of smoke. I hear muffled voices as I try to crawl away. I see light flood the entrance hall where I am, meaning the front door has opened.

''Y/n!''

I hear someone shout, but its as if I'm underwater. That's the last thing I hear before completely blacking out.

#enhypen #au #mafia #xreader #femalereader #sunoo #niki #jungwon #heeseung #jake #jay #sunghoon

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manxden · 1 year

Text

Here's a snippet of chapter 3 of my gift exchange fic, Hold My Hand, written for my gift partner, @alkturos ! I hope you don't get too tired of being namedropped here, Al! ;D Chapter summary: Wrapped up in one of Link's oversized sweatshirts, Zelda goes with Link on an impromptu date to the streetfood arcade close to his building at the harbor. They talk at last about what it means to live with such monumental names in Hyrule, and find common ground to call it a date.

Warning: This fic is getting spicy!

--------- Hold My Hand on AO3 (Chapter 3) ------------

Chapter 3 preview (taken from mid-chapter, because hey, it's good stuff! xD)

“Would you be unhappy if I asked you for a kiss?” Link’s voice was barely above a whisper, hiding a thread of nervous hope just within his tone. “I have so many other things I want to ask, but I’d like that best…”

The sound of shuffling cloth accompanied a breathy half-laugh from Zelda’s lips, since she shifted in place there against the wall. “Isn’t that supposed to come after you rescue me and the kingdom, my brave knight…?”

Link had lowered his head within inches of her lips, hovering in the space where she might either turn him down or draw him in; her quip caught him off guard, and he barked a short laugh before catching his mouth in one hand and rested the other just outside her shoulder. She glowed, grinning, and spread her recently-freed hands into the space of his jacket, curling her grasp just under his arms to hold his sides.

The smile never left her lips as she whispered to his ear, where he’d turned his laugh aside so he wouldn’t bump heads with her. “I would love to kiss you, Link.”

His heartbeat had been dancing to a halftime rhythm at points since they had left the office, and the tickle of her breath brought the patter up to a quarter beat.

“Alright,” His answer was made with near the same breath she had let out, and the hands that had warmed her fingertips cradled the sides of her face, the slide of his pads touching her earlobes, embracing the arch of her neck, and his thumbs warming her cheeks.

His palms were slightly moist, the tension of his forearms feeling like a small shiver, and she wondered at the beginning if he were new to the idea of embracing lips; he was taking his time to hold her but in the next breath his were on hers in a perfect angle. He knew how to press just right, the bow of his neck just so to envelope the silk of her lips in the softness of his own, and she lifted her chin immediately into it; he sought her mouth as if he had known them for years, and she returned joyfully to it. The first touches were almost chaste and reverent, and she shuffled again, fingers curling into the forgiving cloth of his turtleneck under his downy jacket.

He was bold enough to whisper while still ghosting his touch against her mouth. “Is this alright?”

---------- Read more on AO3 ------------

Edit history: LOL! I forgot the darned link! xD xD

#legend of zelda #botw #fanfiction #zelink #zelda #modern hyrule AU #kissyface business abounds #Ya-ha-ha!

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sunbaby01 · 2 years

Text

I know the sound of your heart

Damon Salvatore x reader

Everyone warned her away from the supposid mysterious vampire and yet his blue eyes drew her in every time. Their relationship wasn’t expected, not in the slightest, a dark brooding man best friends with the epitome of sunshine. And yet it worked, they were each other's rock and everyone, other than them, could see more than friendship there.

——————————————————————————

“You know, I told Damon I wouldnt come to this” Mia huffed, brushing down the skirt of her gown once more and linking her arm with Stefans.

“No , Damon asked you not to come to this. We need you to, Klaus took a liking to you when he saw you. You can be-”

“Bait” she finished lifting a brow as they came to stand in the doorway of the party.

“A distraction” Stefan corrected her, “all I need you to do is find Klaus and sweet talk him so I have enough time to talk to Elijah in private along with Damon who I'm going to find. Klaus just entered that room” he gestured to the dining room, “go to him, stay out of Damons sight and I'll come fetch you later” he nodded giving her a kiss on her forehead before disappearing into the crowd to fetch Damon.

“Here goes nothing,” Mia said, grabbing a glass of champagne and following in Klaus’ footsteps.

The younger brunette had to admit if her heart wasn't already taken by another, Klaus might indeed stand a chance. Maybe blue eyes were her weakness. Although Klaus’ blue eyes seemed to shift a shade darker as he heard a crash from upstairs.

“You'll have to excuse me love, I can hear Kol is playing up…” he left the room with no further information, rolling her shoulders Mia left the dining room to see everyone dancing. Including one person in particular. She knew him from behind, it gave her a moment to imagine what he looked like from the front in his suit. If only she didn't have to hide from him, maybe they would be dancing then instead of him and Rebecca. Moving her eyes across the crowd she spotted Stefan already looking at her, he nodded to the door telling her they were done with what they needed and it was time for her to go home and act like she'd been there the whole time.

Picking up her dress slightly to speed up as the song came to an end she stepped out the front door of the Mikaelson mansion and down the steps towards her car reaching for the handle when a hand stopped her from opening it.

Shit.

“Now, don't get me wrong, you look beautiful, but if I recall correctly you told me you'd be at home, safe, three episodes into Supernatural right now drooling over Dean Winchester.”

She turned around slowly and leant her back on her car to look into those eyes she loved.

“Funny story really, Stefan needed me so I came” she watched his shoulders tense

“Needed you for what?” he gritted his teeth.

“To speak to klaus”

Frowning he looked her over making sure she was unharmed before letting rip.

“What about what I need? I need you to be safe, I need you to be okay which is why I asked you to stay home. What if you'd have gotten hurt? What if Klaus did something to you? I mean c'mon did you really think I wouldnt find out-”

“How did you?” she interrupted softly.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“How did you know I was there, I didn't speak in the same room as you and even when I spoke normally I kept my voice down so you wouldn't hear…I left when I saw we were in the same room”

His body relaxed and his eyes softened realising the girl in front of him had absolutely no clue how he felt for her. He placed his hand on her cheek gently, relishing in the way her eyes closed as she felt his touch.

“I always…I know when you're around” he started, a soft smile made its way onto his usually sarcastic face, “I know the sound of your heart. It's the first thing I search for when I enter a room”

“Really?” she asked, gazing at him.

“Every. Single. Time”

#dean winchester #damon x reader #tvd fanfiction #tvd x reader #damon salvatore #Damon Salvatore x reader #the vampire diares imagine #Damon Salvatore fic #Damon Salvatore imagine #damon salvatore x y/n #Ian somerhalder x reader

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dreamingofaizawa · 3 years

Text

You Left

Pro Hero! Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

No gendered terms are used for reader.

Warnings: Cheating, angst, a bit of a cliffhanger ending.

Author's Note: Hahaha....I just hurt myself writing this. I may or may not have a part 2 lined up...with a happier ending...and may or may not have two separate happy endings...because I'm weak and can't handle pure angst...

ANYWAY, ENJOY CRYING~

Part 2 here

"Oi, what's wrong?" Vermillion eyes focus solely on you, on your fidgeting fingers in your lap, on your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

"I just...I don't know, I feel like I'm not good enough for you. You're so handsome, and strong, and smart...I feel like I don't deserve you." The blonde scoffs, tugs you onto his lap and plants a gentle kiss on your lips.

"Dumbass. I've got standards. If you're here then you're clearly good enough. You think I'd fall in love with some extra?" His brash wording combined with the light tint of pink in his cheeks makes you smile. Always so articulate. You know he means well, Katsuki's just emotionally constipated. You giggle, wrap your arms around his neck and pepper his face with kisses.

"Of course not, 'Suki. No extras, just me." He mumbles out a 'damn right, brat' as he lifts you by your thighs, unceremoniously tossing you onto the bed.

"Let me show you just how much I love you, yeah?"

How long has it been since you'd gone to bed without the blonde beside you? Maybe six months? Maybe longer? It's all starting to blur together.

You know where he goes, late at night when he texts that he needs to stay late at the agency for 'unfinished paperwork'. Katsuki Bakugo doesn't have unfinished paperwork. He never has anything backlogged, always on top of everything.

He's out in someone else's bed, listening to someone else cry out his name.

You can't sleep. Haven't been able to at night for a long, long time. Without the explosive hero laying next to you, and with the knowledge that he's sleeping next to someone else...sleep has evaded you. Over the months you've noticed your skin lose its pallor, the dark circles beneath your eyes have only deepened, and more often than not your eyes are red and puffy from crying.

You're heartbroken.

You crawl out of bed, silently rummage in the kitchen and start a pot of boiling water. You zone out for a bit, in a haze as you think about your pro-hero boyfriend. But he isn't yours anymore, is he? No, he's just Katsuki Bakugo: Pro Hero Dynamight, liar and cheater.

The high-pitched whistle of the kettle snaps you from your daze. You wipe the tears from your cheeks and pour the hot water into a mug with the tea bag, take it to the dining table and wait for it to steep.

The light from the hallway is the only one on, casting everything in a soft yellow glow. It would feel homely, if this place felt like home anymore. You just feel empty. Like your bed.

The sound of the lock in the front door turning gets your attention. He's home. You don't have to look to know he's got a haughty pep in his walk, a confident stride and puffed out chest from tonight's conquest. All sounds stop when he sees you.

"You're awake." He sounds disappointed. You don't answer him, instead bobbing the tea bag in the cup to get it fully soaked. You can hear him huff, hear him shuffle closer to you until his chest is at your shoulders and his lips brush your cheek. It's robotic. Routine. There's no love behind anything he does anymore.

"You shouldn't be awake. You need your sleep." You stay silent. Whether it's because you're afraid of what you'll say or if you just have nothing to say, you don't know.

"Oi, are you there? You listenin' to me?" Not really.

"I told you I had paperwork to do," liar, "you should've gone to bed without me." You stop, stand, empty the still full mug into the sink because you don't drink this tea. This is the tea he drinks. It's his tea, in his mug, in his house that you can't sleep in anymore. You heave a sigh, turn around and look at him. He seems taken back by what he's looking at. Has he not noticed your slow deterioration?

"Was it good?" His brows furrow, head tilting ever so slightly.

"The sex. Whoever you've been sleeping with these past months must be pretty good for you to keep going back." He rolls his eyes, scoffs.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? I'm not cheating on you, idiot."

"Liar." He blinks. He hates liars, hates being lied to. And now....

"What the fuck did you just call me?" You stare into those beautiful vermillion eyes. How hypocritical.

"I called you a liar. I can smell them on you, all the different people you've fucked late at night. I can smell the perfumes, the soaps."

"They're from my secretary at the agency! Smells don't mean shit!"

"I've seen the messages, Katsuki. Have you forgotten your phone is linked with our laptop?" He stops, eyes blowing just a fraction wider before his shoulders slump in defeat.

"I thought...I thought you loved me, Katsuki." He looks at you like you'd just stabbed him, reaching for you.

"I do, please baby I do I promise..."

"No the fuck you don't, Katsuki. If you loved me you'd be asleep with me, in our bed. Not with some easy fuck to de-stress!" Your voices are raising, both of you swearing and screaming and it comes to a point where you aren't even thinking, just spewing words that have been bottled up. And then it all comes crashing down.

"Well maybe I wouldn't have to go sleeping around if you were good enough for me! It's not my fault you can't do shit right!" Katsuki's heavy breathing cuts through the deadly silence. He blinks, only now registering the fact that you're not yelling back at him.

What he sees breaks his cold, dead heart. The tears don't stop, but you're like a ghost. Silent, still, pale. He can see it now, see how sickly you've become. See the exhaustion in your bones. He can see what he's done to you. Why had he done it?

You can't look at him anymore. You don't bother speaking as you walk out the front door.

The blonde collapses into the dining room chair, in shock.

You left.

Somewhere in his panicked, shocked brain, he worries if you'll ever walk back through that door.

#bakugo katsuki #bakugo katsuki mha #bakugo katsuki bnha #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki angst #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki bakugo bnha #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo angst #tw cheating #tw infidelity #angst

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zaffrenotes · 3 years

Text

To Ruined Friendships

Fandom: Westworld Pairing: Logan Delos x Reader Rating/Warnings: PG-13; spicy language, alcohol consumption, heavy smoochin Author's Note: This entire thing was inspired by a dream I had about one black hat cowboy who cannot for the life of him consume a drink without looking like he's going to inhale it. I tried to work on my other WIPs for an entirely different fandom, but my brain refused to focus on anyone other than Logan Delos. I don't have the energy to create a sideblog for this, so any Logan fans who happen to find this from the tags, please don't judge me for the other fandom(s) I'm in. I already know, lol. Word Count/Reading Time: +/- 2600 words (10 minutes reading)

hell if I know who to tag for this...if I ever write more and you want to get an update, leave a comment, I guess?: @the-blind-assassin-12 @ao719 @the-soot-sprite possibly @ofpixelsandscribbles @burnsoslow

Another night rubbing shoulders with the elite in a penthouse, and all you want to do is retreat into one of the half dozen empty rooms to rest your feet. Beauty always has a price, and tonight your feet were being sacrificed to the stiletto gods in the name of fashion. As a waiter weaves between guests, you deftly trade the empty crystal flute in your hand for a fresh one off their tray, the slim glass chilling your fingertips.

A tiny, imperceptible sigh slips past your lips as you look out at the wall of windows, city skyline twinkling in the distance. Glancing through the crowd, you try to find a familiar face of one of your girlfriends, when you feel someone’s fingers on your back, ghosting over the ink at the base of your spine. Over your shoulder, a warm, though somewhat world-weary voice makes your body tingle. “Hey gorgeous, I was wondering if I’d see you here tonight.”

You know he’s grinning before you even turn your head; a sly smile spreads across your painted lips when you see you were right, and you lean in to press your cheek to Logan’s in greeting. His beard tickles your face, and the movement is small, but you feel him pull you closer to him, pressing his fingertips into your smooth skin. “You know me,” you reply, gently squeezing his bicep for balance, noses nearly touching as you both move to kiss the other cheek. “Any excuse to squander part of my father’s fortune on a party dress.”

His cheek twitches up as he grins wider, and once more, the grit in his voice makes you want to find a dark corner and do unspeakable things with him. “Only you could make a napkin’s worth of fabric look like couture,” he teases, stepping back to admire your outfit. “I own pocket squares larger than what you’ve got on!” His gaze lowers appreciatively, taking you in, before settling at your feet. You shift your weight from one hip to the other; tilting your head back to take a sip of champagne, you’re surprised to see his dark eyes on you as you swallow and lower the glass. There’s a hint of something there, the way the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Been here long? Why don’t we find somewhere quiet to catch up? You can let your hair down, along with… anything else, to get comfortable.” Were it not for the playful expression in his eyes, his proposition would warrant throwing the remainder of your drink directly into his exquisite face.

But you know Logan. You’ve known him too long for the invitation to be anything but amicable, much to your dismay. You’re well aware of the caliber of women he’s taken to the bedroom, and while you consider yourself attractive enough for the circles you keep, there’s no way he would ever see you as more than just a family friend. Knowing that doesn’t keep you from stroking his ego and taunting him at every opportunity, though. “My hair’s already down,” you tease, grinning as you roll your eyes at him.

“You know what I mean,” he replies, brushing your tresses over one shoulder. His thumb lingers on the strip of silk there, slipping between the material to rest on your skin, before pulling away. “We’ve known each other for years now, you’d think there would’ve been one night of indecency.” Before you’re able to respond, he glances up, noticing one of the other guests. “To be continued,” he says, raising his brows to you. He’s already begun to walk away.

“As always,” you reply, raising your glass to him.

You catch his eye more than a few times as you both make the rounds, catching up with friends and being introduced to new acquaintances vying for a way into social circles and business ventures. He winks at you before throwing back a drink, appearing as if he’d take a bite out of the glass to get every last drop of liquid from it. You nod as you pass by him while he converses with another guest, your arm linked with a friend’s as you walk off to powder your noses. You even catch him looking at you from across the room like he wants to ask you something, but the moment disappears when he pulls his phone from his pocket to take a call.

The evening goes on much longer than you anticipated. Even with windows of interesting conversation to pass the time, you begin to grow weary of the company, drowning out a discussion around you while you stake a claim on one of the pristine white couches. Your legs are crossed in front of you, one foot dangling in the air, while the one closer to the floor looks like it’s about to snap away from the rest of your leg. You’re balancing the weight on a sliver of one side of the heels, and you gaze out at the outdoor pool, wishing you could sit by the edge and dip your feet in the cool, chlorinated water.

Scanning through the guests once more, you notice Logan at the bar. He’s in the middle of a conversation with two gentlemen, but he catches your eye, glancing over long enough to notice your legs again. He flicks his eyes upwards to the rooms, tilting his head at an angle in silent question. You scoff and shake your head, blinking slowly to dismiss his invitation, and give up your position on the couch to go to look for the bathroom. He simply smiles as you cross the room, before returning to the conversation at the bar.

You’re outside on one of the balconies, forearms resting on the brushed steel railing as you lean against metal and glass, absentmindedly staring out at the city. The cool night air feels refreshing against your skin, now warm and flushed from too much champagne and not enough food; there’s never enough food at these things, and you would sell your soul for a plate of loaded nachos or even a tiny slider. Behind you, there’s a click and a hiss from the plate glass door opening. Jovial music and conversation from inside filters through the temporary break, and you sigh to yourself in preparation of putting on your party face to make idle conversation.

“That is one hell of a view.” An all too familiar voice fills the air after the door hisses shut. Logan.

You respond without turning around to acknowledge him. “Your family sure knows how to pick a party venue, I’ll give you that.”

“We do, but that’s not the view I was talking about.”

Body warming at his suggestive tone, you turn around to see Logan’s eyes fixed on your backside, unashamed of his blatant ogling. There’s a glass tumbler in his hand, with barely a sip’s worth of what looks like whiskey in it. “There you go again, getting a girl’s hopes up,” you tease, fidgeting with your hair.

“You know you’re fucking gorgeous, especially in that dress tonight.” His voice travels as he walks over to a darker part of the balcony, swirling the remnants of his drink.

Emboldened by the alcohol still coursing through your system, you play along, walking slowly towards him. “Let me guess, next you’re going to tell me it would look even better in a pile next to your bed.” You roll your eyes at him, but your heart begins to race at the idea.

He grins warmly at you, a tendril of hair knocking loose when he tilts his head and shrugs. You want to reach forward and smooth it back in place, and run your fingers against the side of his scalp. His hair’s longer than it was before; he’s been away at the park for a longer visit this time around. His unnervingly dark eyes are practically black in the shadows, eyeing you like prey. Extending a hand towards you, he reaches for the strap on your shoulder again as if to adjust it, but instead he lifts it and lets it fall off the slope of your skin, staring at the unblemished swath of flesh before him. You feel the material fall until it rests in the crook of your elbow, thankful to be holding up a glass to keep the silk from falling away any further off your body. “A dress like this? I’d have the decency to hang it up first.” He tugs at the fabric again, pulling it up over your shoulder to return your modesty.

“Keep saying shit like that, and one of these days I might believe you.”

“Should I keep talking then?” He chuckles.

You exhale, shaking your head with disbelief. He takes another step away from where you can be seen, and you follow him. “I’m not drunk enough to take you seriously,” you scoff, looking just beyond his gaze.

Logan reaches forward again, fingers landing on the base of your glass, and he pushes it up towards your mouth. “Then by all means, take another sip,” he grins.

“Bullshit,” you utter through a nervous smile, though you don’t stop yourself from tipping the edge of the flute to your lips and tilting your head up, downing half the contents in one gulp.

“Fuck it,” he whispers.

You swallow, and effervescent bubbles tickle the length of your throat so much that it takes you a second to register feeling Logan’s lips at the juncture of your jawline and earlobe. The way his beard brushes against you as you pull the glass away from your lips makes you lose your grip, and the flute falls to the ground, shattering near your feet. You gasp with surprise, unsure if it’s from the shock of dropping the glass or from the fact that Logan fucking Delos just kissed you.

In one swift movement, Logan wraps his unencumbered hand around your waist to pivot you away from the broken glass. His drink-laden hand blindly stretches out to set the glass on the thin metal railing, and he kisses you properly this time, impossibly soft lips on your open mouth and both of his hands are on your waist. He tastes sweet, smokey and woody from the whiskey, setting your lips on fire as he kisses you. Your hands fly up to his shoulders, gripping at his suit jacket as he leads you both towards an exterior wall. The shock of the cool wall against your exposed back makes you gasp again, and you push Logan away. “What’re you doing?” Your head is swimming, blood pulsing from the alcohol and the rush of emotions as you search Logan’s eyes for an answer.

“Might be ending our friendship,” he laughs wryly. His eyes land on your lips, before looking up to meet your gaze. “Want me to stop?”

The look in his eyes is intense; two black pools stare into you, daring you to continue. You tug the lapels of his jacket, pulling him close as your pelvis tilts forward to meet his. “Finish what you start,” you whisper, Cheshire-grin giving away your desire. He kisses you again, grabbing hold of the back of your thighs as he lifts you. You spread your legs, wrapping them around his waist as he presses you up against the wall, the pair of you kissing each other like it’s your last night on earth. There’s an urgency in your actions; if there’s a moment of hesitation from either of you, the spell will break, so you ignore the burning in your lungs to kiss him again. When you feel how hard he is pressed up against you, you tilt your head back and let your eyes flutter closed. He takes it as an opportunity to swirl his tongue against your neck, and you think about feeling his tongue elsewhere on your body.

Your back presses against the wall even more, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist tighter, pinning you in place. As you utter curses of pleasure into the night air, your feet feel relief for the first time all night, weightless as you destroy any propriety that existed with Logan Delos.

You can feel the sun against your eyelids, and the soft sounds of someone typing away at a keyboard. Between the dull ache at the base of your skull and your throbbing temples, you smack your lips together a few times, grimacing at the dryness in your mouth. You turn your face into what you think is a pillow, but determine to be a fleece blanket due to its soft yet formless design. There’s a faint aroma of coffee in the air, and you hope your roommate left some in the carafe. “Dear god, don’t let me drink that much ever again,” you groan, voice strained and scratchy from dehydration. “I made a complete ass of myself in front of Logan.” A minute passes without your roommate’s usual prodding; all you hear is typing now and then. “How’d we get home?”

You’re met with more silence, but your level of irritation is nothing compared to the hangover headache growing with each passing minute of consciousness. You’re about to ask for Tylenol, when you hear the click and hiss of a glass door opening, followed by the sound of someone splashing in a pool. The apartment you share with your roommate has no access to a pool, let alone a back door made of glass. Opening your eyes feels like peeling apart pieces of tape, but with effort you blink slowly and allow your eyes to focus, trying to ignore the glare from the midday sun. You realize the fleece blanket you were resting on was your arm, nestled in the sleeve of a plush bathrobe. It was the kind of robe often seen hanging in the bathroom of high-end hotels.

“That was a side of you I haven’t seen before. Good morning, sunshine.” The voice is distinctively, impossibly Logan’s, with a new note of lightness to it that wasn’t present during last night’s party. “Care to see something interesting?”

You push yourself off the sofa slowly, adjusting the robe on you - apparently you fell asleep wearing it, and you have no idea where your dress or shoes are - and sit up. Logan’s dressed casually in black, seated at a desk a few feet away, with multiple monitors in front of him. One looks to be running code or tracking stock market activity, but he disconnects the laptop in the middle of the desk and carries it over to the couch, taking a seat next to you. There’s a video clip paused on the screen, and he waits to make sure you’re alert enough to watch, before letting it play.

The video shows a clip from the hotel’s CCTV cameras, pointed at the infinity pool. The only lights are coming from the pool walls, and the timestamp reflects it was the middle of the night, long after the party would’ve ended. There’s a naked male figure treading water matching Logan’s build, and then an undressed woman appears from the bottom edge of the frame, preparing to jump into the pool with him. You gasp, covering your mouth with one hand, making out a tattoo on her lower back - your tattoo - before cannonballing into the pool and making out with Logan just before dipping under the water’s surface.

Logan pauses the video, beaming an annoyingly adorable smug expression across his face as he resists the urge to tease you right away. Instead, he leans over, pecks your cheek, and eyes the glimpse of cleavage availed to him between the folds of your robe. “Lady’s choice - I could fuck your hangover away, or there’s coffee in the kitchen. What’ll it be?”

#logan delos #logan delos x reader #westworld #zaffrenotes writes #apparently for more than one fandom now #is this a fluke?#cw: alcohol #cw: swearing #cw: mild citrus #more than a lime but less than lemons #I love the way Ben cannot drink or eat like a normal human #it's endearing and I love him for it #chomp chomp Bennie

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scuttling · 3 years

Text

All I Have To Give

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 5,096 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Daddy kink, Dom/sub, Collar & leash, Oral sex, Deep throating, Restraints, Fingering, Cockwarming, Spanking, Unprotected sex, Come marking, Subspace, Subdrop, Aftercare Summary: A difficult case brings complex emotions, and Aaron is willing to do anything to help the woman he loves process them. *Prompted by @ssamorganhotchner and @angelhotchner and this Link to AO3 or read below! Even after all of his time at the BAU, Aaron knows he hasn’t seen it all, or even close to it—it seems like the atrocities just get worse every year, that humans never fail to find a new way to hurt one another, and that makes him and everyone else on the team constantly question everything they know. He’d like to say it gets easier, but it really doesn’t; you just find new ways to lean on your partners, new ways to cope with the horrors and indecencies the world has to offer.

The case they are currently working on is hitting one profiler especially hard, and because Aaron happens to be in love with her, it’s hitting him hard as well.

“I just can’t imagine waking up one morning and thinking you have your whole life ahead of you, and then some asshole decides he likes the way you look and wants to turn you into his property,” she murmurs that night when they are laying together in the hotel room they share. She had been so strong all day, as always, and then all but collapsed into tears the second the door was closed behind them. “It’s disgusting.”

“I know, baby; cases like these are some of the worst.” He rubs her back with strong hands, pulls her close to his chest. “What can I do for you? I hate to see you like this.” She sniffles, brushes a hand over her eyes, shakes her head.

“I don’t think there’s anything right now. Just being here with me like this, and talking to me, it’s helping. Thank you.” He sighs, because he knows when she gets this upset just talking it out isn’t usually enough, but he has to follow her lead; he just leans in to press his lips to hers, gentle and sweet, and she curls her fingers into his t-shirt and falls asleep with her head against his chest.

The next day, they apprehend the unsub after a standoff; unfortunately, he’d killed the girls when he heard on the police scanner that law enforcement was approaching—all twelve of them. She is the one to find them, and she gets sick, a first in her five years at the BAU. Aaron goes to her side, brings some water for her; her eyes are haunted when she looks up at him.

“Branded,” she croaks, and he doesn’t understand at first, until he looks more closely at the pile of bodies and sees the marks seared into their hips: DM—the unsub’s initials. He exhales deeply, and she turns around and gets sick again.

They take him back to the precinct, try to get a DNA sample, but he won’t agree until his lawyer is present; his story is that his property has been unoccupied for some time, and that he had no idea the girls were being held there, or by whom.

Aaron knows he shouldn’t let her interrogate him. He knows that, but she pleads, and that is something he’s always been unable to resist.

“Branding, huh? Are you that insecure—that worried that the women you called your property wanted nothing to do with you?” she asks, standing with her arms crossed.

“Do you mean my herd? I didn’t just call them my property, honey. They were my property. I owned them. The brands are for everyone else, not for me.” She slams her hands down on the table, sweeps them over the photos she’d laid out in front of him, and they go fluttering to the ground. He can’t see her face, but he knows from her tone that her jaw is clenched, her eyes ablaze.

“You did not own them. Ownership is granted, not taken, you pathetic excuse for a man.” He flexes his hands against the cuffs fixed to the table but says nothing. “You are so powerless that this is the only way you can get it up, isn’t it? By stealing women from their families, their lives, and pretending they’re yours.”

“They are mine!” he shouts, but then he takes a deep breath, visibly calming himself. “I took… the herd, from their meaningless, mundane lives, I brought them home, I gave them purpose. Being my property gave them value they didn’t have before.”

“And then you killed them, so what’s the value now? How dumb do you look?” She gets right up in his face, and hateful, misogynistic poison glints in his eyes, shows through the calm facade he tries so desperately to project. “It’s like burning your own house down, isn’t it? Only there’s no insurance money to collect here, Darren. All that’s left is your stupid ass and a pile of bodies with your fucking name on them.”

“Don’t call me stupid,” he mutters, and she drums her fingers on the tabletop, almost thoughtfully.

“What would you call it? Risking everything to abduct twelve women only to turn around and kill them so they can’t tell us what a pitiful human being you are?” She leans in closer, and he turns his neck to face away from her, like he’s trying to ignore her. “But the thing is, I don’t need them to tell me,” she whispers. “I know you were a disappointment to your father, a disgrace to your mother. I know the disgusting, depraved things you did to your sister, and now the whole world’s going to know. I’m going to tell everyone.”

Aaron can see the change in him from where he stands on the other side of the glass, and he glances at Morgan, then makes for the door. He’s just gotten it open when the man pulls back and spits on her cheek; she freezes, then reaches up, wipes it off, calm and collected, and grabs his jaw with the hand not covered in saliva.

“Guess what, Darren? You’re my property, now. Your ass belongs to the US Government, and I’m going to personally ensure you never see the light of day again.” She holds her hand up—covered in DNA evidence—and walks past Aaron, out the door. She is unusually quiet on the flight back to DC despite the successful interrogation, pensive and solitary; even on the ride from the airport back home she just leans toward him, silent, hand resting on his thigh, her eyes unfocused.

He knows how hard this case hit her, can only hope that she will open up to him when they get home so he can give her what she needs to get through it. He will do anything, just needs to hear it from her.

“Why don’t we take a bath?” he says softly when they get home, dropping their bags in the laundry room, and he brushes a hand over her cheek. “We can soak the day away, and then maybe if you’re feeling better we can talk about what I can do to help.”

She looks up at him, nods, and they rid each other of their clothes and he draws them a bath, hot and foamy with calming aromatherapy oils she enjoys. She lays along his body, curled up, head on his chest, and he holds her close, massages the back of her neck and her shoulders with gentle fingers.

When they get out and dry off, she heads for her closet, returns with a box as tall as a thick book, a little less wide; she sets it on the bed, perches next to it, and looks up at him with expectant eyes.

“What’s this, baby?” he asks, approaching, and he kneels down, puts his arm around her and sets a hand on the box. “Is it for me?”

“Yes, daddy. It’s for you to put on me. I bought it a few weeks ago, but I… I need it now.” He lifts the lid, pulls out what he thinks at first is a wrist cuff but is actually a thick leather collar, with two metal rings attached to the front, and a… a leash. It’s made of metal chain, not long, with a leather loop to hold, and to say he’s caught off guard by this gift would be an understatement.

“You want me to put this on you? Can I ask why?” She moves toward him, puts her hands on the collar too, looks up at him with wide, wet eyes.

“Because I’m not my own person. You own me.” She tilts her neck, bares it, clearly waiting for him to put it on her, but what she’s saying doesn’t sit right with him, too many parallels to the case that made her so physically and mentally unwell.

“Baby, you are your own person. I love you for exactly who you are, and I would never try to own you, to take who you are away from you.” He presses his palm to her cheek, and she leans into it, kisses it with soft, gentle lips.

“It’s not you taking, daddy, it’s me giving. I need to give this to you—it’s the most important thing I have, and I need you to let me give this to you.” He exhales deeply, still not sold on the idea; she may think she wants this in the moment, feeling low as she is, but, what if she changes her mind? What if she no longer trusts his judgement because he plays into this when she’s not at her most clear-headed?

“Are you sure?” he asks, looking into her eyes, checking them for hesitation, but she only nods; he moves his hand from her cheek, gently pulls the collar out of her grip and brings it to her throat, buckles it at the nape of her neck. She sighs, something like relief when he leans back; she wets her lips, and her eyes are heavy.

“You own me, daddy. I’m yours, see?” She tilts her neck again, but all he sees is that it’s tight against her skin, maybe uncomfortably so. He frowns.

“Is it too tight? It looks too tight. I think we should take it off; maybe we can try again another night, when you didn’t have such a hard day.” He moves his hands to the back of her neck, wants to unbuckle it, but she gets upset almost instantly, looking down at her empty hands like they’re causing her pain. He covers them with his own, shushes her softly. “Oh, what is it, sweet girl? Daddy’s right here, it’s okay.”

“I just wanted to please you, daddy. Your name is on me, and I thought you would like it, but if you don’t want me this way…” That makes him pause, and he brings her hands to his lips, kisses them.

“What do you mean, my name is on you? What does that mean, baby?” She pulls her hand out of his, moves her hair out of the way, and then he sees it: his initials, AH, embossed on the collar in silver script.

God, it’s no wonder she had such a visceral reaction to the branding. And it’s no wonder she is stressing wanting to give this to him, when the other women had their choices taken from them. She has a choice, and she’s making it, and all he has to do is accept the gift she’s trying so hard to give to him.

“Please, daddy. I need to give this to you,” she murmurs, further solidifying what he now knows, and he wraps the chain around his hand, pulls it tight, tugs her close for a kiss.

The easy way the tension leaves her body at the possessive gesture makes him groan, and he kisses her so long and hard that—between the kissing and the collar—she is already in subspace when he pulls back to let them catch their breath.

“You’re mine, baby girl; my name is on you. I own you.” She pants, nods, puts her hands on his shoulders and looks into his eyes, so grateful, beautiful.

“Yes, daddy. Thank you, daddy. I’m yours so tell me what to do and I’ll do it, anything. Please.” He kisses her again, then climbs onto the bed, loosens his grip on the chain a bit and pulls her with him as he lays back against the pillows. Her gaze is warm, brilliant, and he guides her to kneel between his legs, drops the leash and takes the black hair tie off of her wrist to sweep her hair back into a ponytail. It’s by no means perfect, but she likes when he does it, knows what it means; she’s already staring at his cock, and he’s willing to bet her mouth is watering in anticipation.

“I want you to suck for me, sweet girl. Owned girl.” Her eyelashes flutter and she wets her lips, nods enthusiastically. She wraps one hand around his cock, presses the other against his thigh, and he picks up the chain again, tightens it as she drops to cover him with her mouth.

She starts with short, wet, slow strokes, looking up at him through her pretty lashes, and he’s reduced to just his love for her and his need to come, as always when she does this for him. He moans softly, reaches down a hand to squeeze her breast, to give her some contact and pleasure, and she whines, moves a little faster.

He wasn’t planning to come this way, but he can think of plenty of ways to keep her occupied and feeling good while he recovers, so he wraps the chain around his hand one more time, guides her down, so she’ll take him deeper. She can do it, has been trained at her own request, because almost nothing makes her wetter than having her mouth full of his cock.

“Good girl, you’re doing so good for daddy. Can I come down your throat, baby? Can you take it?” She nods, bobs, and he yanks the chain just to see what she will do.

It turns her into a bit of a feral little monster, humping her hips against nothing, digging her nails into his thigh, doubling down on her efforts to make him come, and he just tips his head back and enjoys it, pinches her nipple between his fingers.

“Yes, sweet girl. So close. Keep moving your hips, baby; horny, desperate girl. Daddy will let you come soon, just keep going.” Perfect woman that she is, she hums around him, takes him deeper yet; the chain is wound so far around his hand he thinks absently that he may as well just hold onto her collar, and when he hooks his finger around the metal ring she looks up at him and moans.

He comes holding onto that ring, and when she is finished swallowing for him he pulls her up by it, kisses her passionately, gratefully, and whispers praise against her lips; she is soaking wet, he can feel it where she is sprawled on his stomach, so he guides her to lay back on the bed and leans in for a couple more kisses.

“That was perfect, my sweet, owned girl. Did you like that?” He holds the chain loose and rubs two fingers over her clit, and she bucks up, nods her head.

“Yes, owner daddy. I love when you let me take you that far. It makes me achy,” she whines, and he spreads her thighs apart, very wide, presses a finger inside.

“I know, baby. I can feel how soft and wet you are for daddy. I want you to come on my fingers next, okay?”

“Yes, please, I want to. Want to come on them hard for you.” He leans in for a sweet, soft kiss, slides his finger out of her, then takes her hands and brings them together under her chin, wraps the chain around her wrists so they’re loosely bound, holding the handle in his fist. She moans like he’s destroying her, though he’s barely touched her, but when he slips two fingers inside her she just gasps softly and throws her head back, her stomach tensing.

“Such a pretty girl for me. I’m so lucky you’re all mine.” He is calm—or at least, he’s projecting calm—where she is keyed up, eager, desperate, and he always loves it like this, loves to see how much he can tease her, how long she will hold out until she’s begging for him to fuck her with his hand. “Can you stay still for me? I wonder how long you can stay still for me, sweet girl.”

“Mmm, daddy.” Her chest is heaving as he thrusts his fingers slowly in, then out, then rubs them up her pussy, between her lips, and then thrusts them back in. It’s got to be torture for her, but she just breathes. “I can stay still, daddy. I can do whatever you ask.”

He closes his eyes briefly, collects himself so he doesn’t let all that power go to his head, and pushes his fingers into her a bit faster just to watch her struggle to behave.

“Does that feel good, daddy’s girl?” She bites her lip and nods, offers him a strained god, yes, so he adds another finger; the fact that she can speak at all means she’s far too coherent for his liking. He leans up for a kiss, brushes his nose over her throat, along the edge of the collar, right where his initials are, and she lifts her hips but stops herself, whimpers. “Oh, baby, what is it? Are you needy?” he whispers in her ear.

“Needy, please daddy,” she pleads softly, her eyes focused on him when he pulls back to look at her face, but also a little far away at the same time. “Please, please, I need to come. I need to come, I’m achy.”

“Shh, it’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ll make you come, sweet girl.” He presses their mouths together a couple times, losing his composure a little as she loses hers, and then he moves down between her open legs and rubs his tongue over her clit while pounding his fingers inside.

She is unable to resist moving her hips as she gets closer to climax, and he pulls away, pausing to look up into her eyes again. They’re very hazy now, and she’s whining high in her throat at the sudden lack of stimulation.

“If you don’t stay still, daddy will have to spank you, baby girl. Do you understand?” She nods lazily, and he taps his hand against her pussy, a couple of light slaps just to get her attention. She blinks, makes eye contact, and he asks again. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, daddy.” She flicks her tongue over her lips, closes her eyes, and he leans back in to roll his tongue over her clit, fingers moving quickly in and out of her. She remains still for about thirty seconds and then slams down hard against his hand, and from there she doesn’t stop. “Oh please, please. So close, please daddy,” she begs, pressing into the thrusts, and just when she is starting to come he wraps his hand around the chain around her wrists, tugs her body up so he can reach her mouth, and kisses her deep and wet while he fucks her through her orgasm.

She comes hard as promised, soaking his hand, moaning into the kiss—probably due to the fact that he’s holding her up by the leash, because displays of strength make her feel extremely submissive—and when she is through he lays her gently back, unwinds the chain and kisses her wrists.

“Good girl, you did so well. Daddy is so proud.” He leans up to press easy kisses to her cheeks and mouth, and she wraps her arms around his neck, making soft noises of contentment against his lips. “I love you so much, sweetheart. I love making you feel good. Do you love making me feel good?”

He knows she does, but likes to hear it, even when it’s just a sigh like the one she gives him now—he knows what all of her sounds mean, when she’s so deeply sunken into subspace that she's all begging and soft noises and daddy.

“Yeah, I know you do, sweetheart. Are you ready for me to come inside you? Daddy comes inside because he owns you.”

“Daddy, mmm,” she breathes, and he gets up on his knees, spreads them, and drapes her thighs over his, slides in easily because she is still so open and slick. He wraps one hand around her thigh and brings the other to the chain hooked to her collar, loops it around his forearm, and thrusts quick and smooth, grunting when she grabs his wrists and bucks her hips against him. “Oh, fuck. Oh.” She gasps when he pulls on the chain a little harder, bounces roughly against his thighs and whimpers her pleasure, then drops a hand to her pussy and rubs as he slams into her with equal desperation.

“Yes baby, fuck daddy. Good girl, rubbing your little pussy; if I come before you, you’ll have to wait a while, so I hope you get off first.” She whines unhappily at that, rubs faster, her head tipped back, and when he squeezes her breast with the hand holding the handle of the leash she wraps her legs tightly around his thighs and comes with his name on her lips.

It doesn’t take long for him to follow: he takes his hands off of her completely, since she’s holding on to him with her legs, and fucks her hard, pulling on the chain and muttering praise until he spills deep inside her. She is breathless, still but for the rise and fall of her chest, and he takes a moment before pulling out, unwrapping the chain from around his arm and encouraging her to turn onto her stomach.

She complies easily, looks fucked-out and spent, and he kisses along her spine, between her shoulder blades when he slides back into her.

“Again, daddy?” she asks, barely a whisper, and he runs his hands over her body, soft and soothing, leans in to put his weight against her back, his mouth at her ear.

“Not yet, baby girl, but I want to stay inside you, okay? How are you feeling?” She turns her head for a kiss, hums.

“Fuzzy. Good.” He kisses her again and moves his lips to her jaw, then her neck, right up against the collar.

“Is it uncomfortable? Too tight?” he asks softly. He doesn’t want to upset her by suggesting they take it off, but he’s been rough with it, so he wants to check.

“No, owner daddy. It’s perfect.” She gets her arm out from beneath her, reaches it around his neck and pulls him close, nuzzles against his throat. “I love you and I love being owned by you.”

“I love you, baby girl, and I love owning you. You’ve given me everything.”

This may have started as something to do to get her through the lingering effects of the case, but he would be lying if he said he doesn’t see and feel the value in the voluntary transfer of power, how easily she gave herself to him, willingly, completely. He kisses her again, sweet and slow, and then leans up, puts his hands on her ass, massages it.

“Do you need anything?” She murmurs yes, and he smiles a little to himself, rubs a hand up her back. “Thank you for telling me, baby. What can daddy do for you?”

“I need to be spanked, daddy. I couldn’t hold still.” She slides up to her hands and knees, knees spread wide, and though he’s no longer hard inside her, he doesn’t see that being a problem for long.

“That’s right. Good girl for reminding me.” He squeezes her ass, then lightly taps it, and she whimpers. “You were too horny, you couldn’t stay still. I’m not mad,” he promises with another tap. “I know how you get when I touch your pussy: you become such a messy, needy, desperate baby. You can’t help yourself.” She sighs, presses her ass back against him and tilts her head back a little.

“Can’t help myself, daddy,” is all she says, voice breathy and short, and he picks up the leash, holds it loosely along the length of her spine, and smacks her hard on the ass with an open palm.

She gasps, digs her fingers into the bedding, braces herself for more impact; by the sixth, she is grinding against him, panting and whining, her ass an angry red. She’s drenched in slick, and he’s hard again, so he grabs her ass roughly with both hands and thrusts a few times before spanking her a seventh time.

“Fuck daddy, yes daddy,” she moans, pushing eagerly into his thrusts; she fucks herself on his cock even when he’s still, even when his hands come down hard on her already irritated skin. “Mmh. I’m bad, daddy. I’m bad and I’m not perfect, but you still love me.” He exhales deeply, because he knows his girl well, and he knows this means she will be dropping, hard, as soon as she comes; he mentally prepares for the worst, just in case.

“You’re not bad, sweetheart, you are so good; not just to me, but to everyone.” He moves one hand to her hip, holds her steady, then grabs the chain with the other hand and pulls her closer while he pounds inside her. “And no, you’re not perfect, but you’re perfect for daddy; you’re smart, and sweet, and so beautiful, and I love you.” He drapes himself over her back, tugs on the chain so she will meet him for a gentle kiss, their lips so soft in contrast to the way their bodies meet, eager for release. “I love you, baby. Come and let daddy take care of you. Daddy will make it all better.”

She reaches back for him, covers his hand with hers and takes a deep, shuddering breath; it’s only a matter of time before the tears fall, and he would like to be holding her by then, so he curls his hand around to rub at her clit, murmurs reassurances and repeats that he’s got her, and she comes trembling, gasping beneath him.

He kisses her shoulders, thrusts a few more times and then pulls out to come on her hot, marked ass; breathless, he eases her body down onto the bed, leans up to brush her hair back and unbuckle the collar, sets it aside.

“That’s it, sweet girl. Time to rest and let daddy take care of you. You did so well for me, baby. You gave me everything; I will be so careful with it.” He squeezes his eyes shut, feels so much emotion for the sensitive, thoughtful, incredible woman beneath him it makes his chest ache. He brings a hand to her ass, rubs his come in, knows that it stings—but they both like this, and he knows she will expect it, would feel somehow inadequate if he didn’t. He presses a kiss to her lower back. “I’m going to get you some water, good girl. Amazing, special girl. Be right back.”

He grabs a pillow, brings it to her head and lifts it up so she’s pressed comfortably against it, then gives her a peck on the cheek and heads to the kitchen for water and a snack. When he returns, she’s clutching the pillow, turned to face the door so she can see him enter. He pulls her close, sits her up enough to give her a few sips of water, then sets down the glass and holds her against his chest, soft and shivering slightly in his arms.

“I know we just had a bath earlier, but would you like another? Or a shower?” He tugs the blanket loose and wraps it around them, rocks her a little. Gently removing the ponytail holder from her hair, he shakes it loose with his fingers, rubs her throat where the collar left a slight indentation. “Sweet, owned girl, I will give you anything you need, always. Just tell me when you’re ready.”

She cries, clutching at him, and he soothes her, squeezes her, moves his hands through her hair and brushes the tears off of her face; when the sobbing slows, he reaches carefully for tissues on the bedside table, dries her eyes and helps her blow her nose, then gives her more water. She looks a little better after drinking half the glass, so he convinces her to take a couple bites of food, rubs her sore ass with a soft hand.

“Can we shower? And then more of this?” she asks, just a whisper, and he nods and leans in for some slow, sweet presses of lips. Her fingers card through his hair, and he presses a hand to her cheek. “Thank you, daddy. I’m so grateful for you.”

“I’m grateful for you, too, baby. The world just isn’t right when you’re upset—when I can’t find that brilliant smile.” It’s not quite brilliant, but the corner of her mouth does curve up for him, which he considers a good sign. “Let’s go get cleaned up and then I’ll hold you until you’re sick of me,” he teases. He unwraps them and gets off the bed with her in his arms.

“Could never be sick of you ever. Perfect daddy, perfect man.” He shoots her a look, something like yeah right but not too self-deprecating, and she cuddles closer. “Okay, perfect for me, anyway. Strong, gentle owner daddy I know I can trust with everything.”

They shower—she practically purrs when he scrubs her head with shampoo, when he combs conditioner through her hair with his fingers—and slip into pajamas, and he takes the comforter to the laundry room and grabs the spare, wraps her up tight and pulls her close, hugs and kisses and talks to her about everything and nothing until she’s ready for some dinner and a movie on the couch.

She thanks him for everything he did to help her through it, but it’s really his pleasure; it’s where he finds his value, and he tells her so. Because she can’t wear the collar to work, he makes a stop on his lunch break a week later, sneaks into a jewelry store, and buys her a ring.

There is no room to inscribe his initials, but his intentions are heavily implied.

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