I considered not posting this but my last braincell said "be free" so here we are. What if a nurse found Benjamin in a dumpster like Claire found Matt in season 1 haha what if! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
IGN Exclusive | Daniel Brühl Stars in Magic: The Gathering: Marvel Super Heroes Commercial
(NOTE: article was auto-translated from German to English)
Over the past decade, Magic: The Gathering has produced some truly legendary promotional clips for its trading card game. Unforgettable moments include the War of the Spark trailer featuring a rendition of Linkin Park's hit song "In the End," the animated glimpse into the whimsical world of Bloomburrow, or most recently, the puppet theater for Lorwyn Eclipsed.
Now, a new one seems poised to join the ranks, as Wizards of the Coast managed to recruit German star actor Daniel Brühl for the perfect edition.
Shooting Preparations with Daniel Brühl
The 47-year-old arguably received his biggest international popularity boost playing the role of Zemo in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. However, as we were assured on set, he is not playing this villain in the commercial for the upcoming MtG set Marvel Super Heroes.
The reasons for this are likely legal in nature. That said, Brühl's look is very heavily inspired by the comic book Baron, complete with a leather coat and leather gloves.
Does Daniel Brühl normally leave the house dressed like this?
And story-wise, this version of Daniel also doesn't seem too far removed from his film and series role. In the video, we see him in a dark location. The lighting is dimmed, even flickering occasionally.
Evil Daniel in His Magic Hideout
With a massive stack of various booster packs and booster boxes—arranged, not by coincidence, to look like a city's concrete jungle—he builds himself a deck composed of villains, which are set to face off against the hero deck of influencer RvNxMango later in the clip. Any Magic fan would probably have started hyperventilating at the sheer volume of cards just casually lying around on set.
We will likely find out who gets the upper hand in said duel shortly before the release on June 26 via Wizards of the Coast's channels—or slightly earlier, exclusively right here on IGN Germany.
Playing strangers with dex at the bar or at the gym. He would flirt his way out (like a real stalker or a pervert) to an extent some men would try to step in and ask “is this man bothering you?” and in a second dex looks ready to square up “this is MY girl back the f out-“ and you have to assure them “yeah we’re just playing around it’s fine” 😉
eeEEE i fucking hoarded this message for so long, really wanted to write something about it hehe. hope you enjoy!!! <3
the really bad kind
benjamin 'dex' poindexter x reader
cw: dex being a little handsy and rough, creepy behavior, you and dex are both a lil fucked in the head hehe. some heated kissing, insinuations of more. reader is slightly intoxicated during. content is 18+, MINORS DNI
you'd think it was a concrete wall that you bumped into if it weren't for the two strong hands that stop you from stumbling completely backwards
he keeps you balanced and on your feet, an anchoring force against your swaying
its clear now that you're far more tipsy than you anticipated
"oop, sorry about that!" you giggle, looking up to find his eyes already boring into yours, the black of his pupils glinting with humor at your bubbly demeanor
"no harm done" he answers, his voice low, leaning in to make sure you hear him in the crowded the bar "you're good?" he asks, his warm breath tickling against your ear
"yeah!" you beam at him, lying, while all he does is just stare at you with a suspicious squint of his eyes "i've just- i had a few drinks!"
the 'stranger' quirks his mouth in amusement, lifting a knowing brow at you
"more than a few by my count" he snarks, says it like its just an astute observation, like its not weird at all that he has been keeping score on something like that
"you've been watching me?" you ask, biting at your lip nervously, your skin erupting in squeamish goosebumps at the thought
the man's face reddens, he blinks a few times but doesn't look remorseful at all, only taken aback at the fact that you're confronting him about it
"i was looking out for you" he argues with an affronted look, says it like its obvious, straightening up his posture for added credibility on his good deeds
"um-" you huff shakily, gratefully the alcohol makes you brave when you answer "that's still creepy, y'know that?"
"i-its not" he stutters with laugh that has no real humor behind it, his nostrils flaring a little bit in frustration, like maybe you've struck a nerve with that last one "given the state of you right now- one might say i'm doing you a favor"
you scoff in incredulity at his logic, your eyes wide as they stare back at him "a favor?"
"keeping the weirdos off your scent" he answers, his voice level headed even when he's speaking unhinged insanity to you
he inches forward until you unconsciously walk backwards and hit against the tall table behind you
"yeah- weirdos like you?" you retaliate, gulping nervously when all he does is breathe out an amused sound, staring intently at your lips when he notices how they start to tremble and you bite at them to try and hide it
its his turn to scoff, he turns his head sideways to avoid your gaze momentarily in offense and thats when you take a moment to properly look at him
you nearly salivate at the sight of the pretty scar marking his cheek, his sharp jawline, he really is handsome in a way thats is completely unfair, in a way that in your intoxicated state only makes you want to tear him apart
"you'd be in big trouble by now if that were the case" he answers finally, a dangerous quirk of his mouth, a growing playful light in his eyes as he breaches into your personal space
you gulp back a squeak, his intensity and the theatrics of it all has you on the verge of breaking character, if only for a chance to finally kiss your boyfriend straight on the mouth when he's standing so close and looking so enticingly hot, hours of keeping your distance finally taking a toll
but- this whole thing was your idea, you practically begged dex to agree on playing strangers, to indulge you in a cheeky little game before he got to take you home later tonight
so no, you can't give in that easily, yet -
"trouble?" you ask, eyelids fluttering at him, your voice barely above a whisper and now completely flooded with traitorous want
he hums, "the really bad kind too"
"you dont scare me" you answer, trying your best to keep the affronted and brave facade, for the sake of playing around a little longer, but theres no fighting the rising smirk on your face, your skin prickling with sick anticipation when the answer seems to light up something inside of dex
"no?" he asks, grabbing at your wrist to pull you in forcefully against his front, so close you have to crane your neck to properly look at him, "maybe you should be" he says, smiling with teeth when you squeal in surprise to his bluntness
a dazed look takes over his features when he feels the way your pulse hammers beneath the tight grip of his palm
its truly a miracle that you and dex managed to make it this far without someone intervening
nonetheless, you're still shocked you when one of the guys who was talking to you earlier in the night shows up out of damn nowhere to shove dex's backwards and away from you
as if he were coming to your rescue, he starts "hey man! why dont you fuck off?" raising his voice threateningly at dex, who just takes one or two steps back with his hands lifted up in mock surrender, a vile and cocky look on his face
the guy's eyes shift towards you to ask in worry "you okay? this guy bothering you?"
oh, sweet, naive thing. you think
you can't help it, it's probably because of the alcohol in your system, probably because as soon as you make eye contact with dex his hazy eyes are glinting with sick amusement right back at you, his mouth quirking at one side
you laugh, loud and giggly and absolutely not anything that the poor guy deserves for doing the right thing
"the only one that needs to fuck off is you buddy" your boyfriend finally speaks, chuckling condescendingly and squaring up, all of a sudden looking much taller and broader and scarier than he already is
the guy turns to you again, shocked at the way you're smiling giddily at the tall man that only seconds ago was holding on to your wrist with a vice grip, the one he noticed hours ago was silently gazing at you from afar like a creep, staring as if you were something to eat, following your every move without blinking away or doing anything other than stay perfectly still in the darkness
"its okay!" you answer with a remorseful smile, feeling honest pity for the guy who looks completely befuddled by the situation in front of him "he's um- hes my boyfriend, we're just playing around, you dont have to-" you say, your voice still cracking with barely contained giggles
the guy takes turns looking from you to dex a few consecutive times
your boyfriend stares back with a taunting look in his eyes, like he's still hoping the guy will throw a punch or push at his chest a little harder
he doesn't take the bait, the guy doesn't say another word before he backs off and walks away with a look of utter disgust
its all the same to you and dex though, as soon as the random dude is gone your boyfriend is grabbing at your hand and walking with confident strides towards a secluded corner of the bar
he needs no audience to swallow your mouth with a possessive and needy kiss, he cant risk being interrupted once again
the feeling of him towering over you, finally pressing his whole body against yours is nothing short of euphoric, your breathing goes erratic when your hands can barely keep up with your need to touch him all over
you have half a mind to register when he groans into your mouth a sardonic yet not entirely insincere question "am i bothering you?"
you laugh momentarily, continuing to kiss him fervently and mindlessly, your hands tugging at the hairs at the back of his neck before he bites your lip in protest at your lack of response
"the only thing thats fucking bothering me is that we're still here, dex"
you're already sticking your tongue down his throat again by the time you realize you've used his real name
"this was your idea" he answers, big hands grabbing at your face to separate from your lips and properly look at you, he actually looks pissed that you're acting like this is his fault "you wanted us to be here, to do this-"
you try to kiss him again but he just pulls back to watch you struggle, a ruthless, scorning frown on his face
"just take me home already" you whine, wrapping both your arms around his neck to bring him down to you in desperation, using his tall and sturdy frame to ground yourself too
the world is spinning not only from the effect of your drinks but now also from the blinding, harrowing need gathering at the pit of your stomach, the one that makes the entire surface of your skin feel like its on fire every time you think about dex laying so much as a finger on you underneath all these pestering clothes
dex blows out a nervous and amused sound, shaking his head from side to side, still not kissing you back, his voice coming out husky when he teases "so i can take advantage of you in a state like this?"
your response is feeble, broken, a high pitched and desperate "fuck, please-" that you exhale straight into his gasping wide open mouth
Cabins werent your thing, not really. No connection, the woods, the bugs.. Not your style. But Dex had been nothing but sweet towards you despite your attitute towards him.
So, the least you could do was go stay the week at this Cabin. Well, it was much larger then a cabin, but you see the appeal. You wished you could stay home instead but, He was your husband after all. You weren’t letting him go no-contact for a week.
You packed a big suitcase, even though Dex said there was no need for that may clothes. You didnt care, what if you suddenly pissed yourself twice a day? 20 pairs of underwear was really necessary!!
“All done, Baby?” Dex asked as he stood in the bedroom doorway. Watching you sit on your knees beside your luggage on the floor. You looked so pretty, lips pouting, he wished he could just take your mouth right there..
“Yeah.” You said, eyeing him for a moment. Why did he suddenly look so.. big? His arms and all. Must be because you were on the floor.. You didnt notice Dex move to take your suitcase as you were too busy zoning off, your breath hitches when you suddenly snap back and he is so so close to you.
“What happened sweet girl?” He murmured at you, fixing the zip of the luggage before taking his duffle bag and putting it on your luggage to carry them.
“Nothing, just zoned out.” You hum, getting up from the floor and following him out of the bedroom. “How long is the drive?” You ask, watching his right arm tense up as he hold the luggage and carries it outside.
“Around three hours, you’ll be okay?” He asked, making sure you dont have any last minute doubts about the getaway or any hesitation. You just nod your hand, pressing the elevator button.
You two wait side by side for a moment, the luggage on his right and you on his left. His left hand hovers on your back for a moment, guiding you gently with one hand into the elevator as the door opened.
You pressed the button, turning around to look at yourself in the mirror. Turning your back to Dex in progress. He didnt seem to like that, holding your think baby pink belt with a finger. Tugging gently, smiling when you give him a scolding look.
———
“Can we stop at the gas station?” You ask, an hour into the drive. Your music playing through the aux. Dex shook his head no, turning his head towards you for a split second before turninh his gaze back onto the road. “No, baby. You need to pee? Hungry?” He asked, because he would stop if that was the case but he doubts it. And when you shake your head no with a pout, “Drop that.. we’ll stop and go to the supermarket around the cabin.” He rests one hand on your thigh, rubbing through the denim.
“Fine, i guess what i want doesn’t matter” you bite back, it was mean, yes, and sometimes you did feel bad about acting like it. But you couldn’t help but take the small hatred you had towards your father for arranging this marriage out of him.
Your dad, was a good guy, sure. You had couple nice memories. And the fact that he arranged this marriage, made you resent him slightly. Although, Dex wasn’t having it this time. “Alright, enough with that attitude.” He said rather harshly. And when i mean harsh? I mean full fbi voice and all.
“You got to be a big girl, alright? Want something? Speak up for it.” He gave you a side glance, retracting his hand from your thigh. You dropped both your hands onto lap. You were quiet for once, not talking back at everything he says. Also, your thigh felt empty, as much as you hated it, you were used to it. Used to his routine, how he always had to touch you somewhere.
“….Sorry.” You murmur, fidgeting with your fingers. Not wanting to look at him. When he heard your apology Dex stilled for a moment, turning his head to look at you. “What.” It was more so shocked then a statement, he had heard you apologise, obviously. But just never to him.
“…I said ‘m sorry.” You say, a little louder this time, thinking he didnt hear you. “Yeah, i heard what you said baby. Just suprised.” He replied back, tense still.
“Say you forgive me.” You huff out, waiting for his reply. Instead, he just slowed the car and parked on the side. Dex shifts to look at you, holding your chin and turning your face to him. You look to share his gaze, still pouty.
“What did i just say about pouting, baby?” He caressed your cheek with his thumb a little. “You said to drop my attitude, not my pout.” You couldn’t help but lean into his touch a little. His warm hand felt good.
“Yeah, well, same thing.. we cant keep doing this if you act like this you know that?” He said, so lovingly. It broke your heart a little, what was he trying to even say?
“Keep doing what?” You ask hesitantly, not sure if you even want to hear what. You bat your lashes, wanting him to soften up a little.
“If you want it, we can get a div-“ Dex had a defeated look on his face like he gave up. what? No, no, no, no! How could he even think you would want that. “No!” You bursted out before he finished his word.
“You’re my husband.. what are you going to do find a new wife?” What were you even saying that didnt make sense at all. He didnt even say something like that.
“Allright, thats settled then.” He smirked coyly, moving to start the car back on. “Wait.. ‘m not finished.” You tug on his arm that was on the stick.
“Yeah? What do you want?” He asked, grabbing the same hand and engulfing your hand in his, giving you a look that said ‘go on’.
“I wanna.. make it up to you.” Dex was silent for a moment, that was the last thing he thought you’d say. He couldn’t help but think of ways you could make it up to him. But no, he was the one thinking dirty, he thought.
“Mhm? Gonna make me dinner? Give me a kiss?” He said teasingly, squeezing your hand twice. “Nuh uh.. i wanna..” you murmured, looking at his face then down at his crotch then back at his face.
So he wasnt thinking dirt at all, but he decided to play cool. “Yeah, what do you want? Told you to speak up earlier didnt i?” He hummed, now he got you right where he wanted all along.
“Can i.. suck you off?” You spoke softly, batting your lashes at him. How silly of you to think that he’d refuse!!! “Well… i dont know, anyone who drives by could see us?” He said, already reaching to unbuckle his belt.
You suddenly sit up straighter, tugging on his belt faster then he cant get it off. “Easy… Easy, girl…” he cooed, making you drop your hands.
You watched him very intently. He lifted his hips slightly in the air in a thrusting motion to slide off his belt completely. “Fasterrrr, Dex..” you whine.
“Save that for later, baby.” He groaned, taking out his cock for you. “Ready? Come on. It doesnt bite.” He leaned back on his seat.
You leaned in, taking the tip in your mouth. Dex’s breath hitched, but did no move to push you down his length, letting you do your own thing instead.
You took your time, looking at him every few seconds see if he likes it. Dex gives you an encouraging smile, one hand resting it on your hair. “Thats nice baby…” he murmurs, petting your head gently.
You took the praise as a sign to take him deeper down your throat, bobbing your head up and down few times before taking him out of your mouth completely. And that earns you a big whine from Dex, “Wha- no, come back,” he hissed as cold air came in contact with his wet cock.
In response you just licked a striped from his balls to the tip of his dick. Soon learning that the tip was his actually most sensitive spot.
———
Dex panted heavily as your hand was now coated heavily in his cum, you sat up straighter, licking his cum from your fingers, making sure to look him in the eye during it, giggling when his breath hitches.
P.s had to cut out most of the smut part because i realized im rusty and dk how to describe it properly
18+ mdni, dubcon elements, dom/sub dynamics, vaginal penetration, creampie, vaginal fingering, cunninglingus, somnophilia, choking, overstimulation, reader has no gendered pronouns, implied stalkerish behavior [reader], fbi!dex just being a rather friendly neighbor, mrs. miller close your catholic ears, smut below the cut
reader who has a huge, super obvious crush on neighbor!dex, always trying to run into him in the hallway, asking for spare batteries for your remotes and extra eggs for breakfast. the first few times it happened, dex was rather clueless about your attraction to him, because few people had ever really looked his way. and not that you weren’t pretty, he just wasn’t into you like that. you were nothing more than his kind neighbor who seemed to forget how to adult since he’s moved in.
it wasn’t until the nice but nosy old lady in 427 offhandedly mentioned to dex how generous you were, how you must’ve had everything one could possibly need stocked up, that he realized you were just using it as an excuse to talk to him. between his important assignment at the fbi and spending time with his support system julie, dex hardly had the time to be entertaining your little crush.
until he was put on administrative leave and nice, sweet julie turned out to be just like everyone else. scared of him and his devotion—his desire to be good just like her.
he had put a hole through his wall and a couple cds by the time he heard you unlock your front door. before he knew it, dex ripped open his own door, startling you.
“jesus, are you okay, dex?” you asked when you saw the distress on his handsome features.
the whole time he’s lived here, you’d not once seen him anything but the picture of put together. you envied it, but you also wondered if there was more underneath the mask of calm. was this what was hiding behind it?
in two quick strides, dex was in front of you, roughly grabbing your face and smashing his mouth against yours, tongue prodding through the seam of your lips. your shocked gasp allowed the warm muscle through. the question on your tongue died then. he pushed you both through your door, foot kicking it shut.
next thing you knew, he was harshly fucking his cock into you, pressing your face deeper into your mattress with his hand on the back of your throat. you can already feel the bruises around your neck forming. you sobbed his name, already having come twice around him. each of his thrusts were so precise, never faltering even as he was finally approaching his climax.
you’ve never heard his voice as raspy as when he began to taunt you, “you can take it, can’t you? i know you like me, or else you wouldn’t be letting me do this to you.”
“please, dex, dex, dex,” you blabbered like a mantra. you couldn’t tell exactly what it was you were begging for.
he held you down harder then, blocking your airway for a moment. “fuck, you’re so wet. you’ve thought about this, haven’t you? you ever imagined me knocking on your door and shoving my cock into you? oh, i can feel you squeezing me. you’d love that, wouldn’t you?
“mrs. miller said you were so helpful. she was right. that’s why you followed me around on my runs, didn’t you? just wanted to keep me company. you weren’t that dumb to think an fbi agent wouldn’t notice, were you? you wanted me to know with that little damsel-in-distress act of yours.”
you felt his weight press down onto your back, his fingers sliding from your sore hip to the center of your thighs. he smiled when he found your clit immediately, rubbing the overstimulated nerves with quick, precise movements. despite the mortification of being caught, you cried out in overwhelming ecstasy. your stretched walls clamped down so hard around his length, it was like they were trying to push him out.
but obviously, you wanted it. otherwise, your arousal wouldn’t be gushing out around his relentless cock like that, dripping onto your ruined sheets. each slap of his hips against your ass made such an embarrassing squelch inside the thin walls of your small room. hopefully poor old mrs. miller couldn’t hear any of this—she was terribly catholic.
dex spoke more in the last forty minutes than he had to you in the past three years he’s been living in this building. he teased you about your crush on him, praised you for being so good for him and his cock. it wasn’t long before your third release washed over you, milking him so hard that he spilled himself into you. you felt his hot cum flood your walls, shamefully (but blissfully) wondering if he’d slide himself out of you just to watch it leak out of your hole.
but despite his intense climax, he kept going, because dex was only a friendly neighbor cashing in on his neighborly generosity to you.
bonus: years later, the assassin bullseye would climb up your fire escape, sneaking into your apartment through your unlocked window. you must’ve been waiting for him to return, never mind the heatwave running through manhattan right now, and your ac just broke last week. you’d wake up to bullseye with his head between your thighs, fingers making those familiar strokes with deadly precision. he had lifted his mask just enough to expose his mouth, coaxing a shattering climax from you just like he did all those times before. (you had, in fact, started to leave your windows unlocked when you heard he escaped prison.)
It was no secret that Dex was an attractive guy, and even more charismatic. Though his charms doesn’t work on you well it definitely works on other women.
In no way im saying Dex would try to flirt with women to get your attention, he is too hopelessly and desperately into you.
It doesn’t stop other women to flirt with him though. Its not like he doesn’t shut it off immediately, he really does. But what he didnt know that you would be jealous by it.
How could he? You barely gave him the time of day, never paying actual attention to him. Hell, you barely even talk to him properly at home!!
You two were in the car, going back home after a wedding. Summer season always did meant the wedding season, and maybe thats why the only thing Dex insisted about the wedding was having the wedding late autumn early winter.
To be honest, if this was a friends wedding you would’ve totally left Dex home. After all its your friends. But since this was a family wedding you had to bring him, and he was quite eager to come.
You were sat on the passenger seat, one leg crossed over the other. Back comfortably against the seat, watching the dark road. Your music playing in his car.
You were quieter than usual, you were always quiet when alone with him, sure. But this time it was different, seeing your cousin (who wasnt even your cousin) touch up on his arm talking about how unfair it was to him that he had such a cruel wife.. you werent that cruel were you?
“You’re different,” Dex started, looking at you for a moment. Watching the way your gaze was so distant, thumb brushing over the diamond ring. Your breathing a little a slower, like you didnt even have the tolerance to hear your own breath. “I promise nothing happened, i shut it down as soon as i realised..”
Dex reached with his right hand, the left one still on the wheel. His hand hovered over yours for a moment, raising his hand to touch your arm. Trying to coax words out of your mouth. “Im cruel?” You asked, you were as confused as someone could be.
“No, you’re not cruel. You’re just…” he trailed off, not knowing how to continue. “I’m just what, Dex?-” You huffed out, crossing his arms.
“You’re my wife, thats who you are. You’re not Cruel, you’re not mean. You’re my wife.” He cut you off before you could continue, emphasizing on the word wife. “Since when do you care what others say? Huh? Wait, this is not about being called cruel is it?” He realised, eyes widening slightly as he stopped talking for a moment. Stopping to park inside the gas station.
He turned to face you, a small smile forming on his face. “What are you so smiley for?” Your brows furrowed, why was he being so smiley about??
“You’re jealous- thats, thats what it is” He said, happy as he can. Reaching to touch your hand. You retract your hand, rolling your eyes before resting back against the seat. “…No.” You muttered not even looking at him.
“Oh no, please let me have this. Come on.” Dex was more excited than anything, it was his first time seeing you this… small.
You shook your head, not even looking at him. He grabbed your wrist, squeezing. Not hard enough to hurt, just hard enough to get your attention back on him.
“Its just me, come on, dont be shy.” He said, ducking his head a little to get into your vision. “You let her touch you.” You muttered out, finally making eye contact.
“Ah… i see. Im yours though, aren’t i? Do you want me to get rid of her? I know how much you hate her.” He said, trying to lighten your mood. And when you didnt reply he just nodded, his hand sliding down from your wrist to your hand.
Trying to hold your hand without pushing his luck too much. “Maybe.” You said in a small voice slightly irritated that he was this happy. “Will you shut up now?” You sigh, wanting so bad to snap at him.
Dex, gave you a defeated look. “She touched me barely a second, you know.” He spoke after some silence, watching you pick at your bracelet. “Besides, why do you care now?” He hummed, hoping to take you out of your shell a little more.
“You’re acting as if you wouldnt have done the same thing.” You murmur, finally holding eye contact with him. “Yeah, well, i would’ve killed the guy. But thats just me.” He shrugged casually, like it was just common sense.
“…So, i should kill her is what you’re saying?” You smiled a little, and Dex grinned at your smile. It was the third time he made you smile up until now. “No, i got it handled. Dont mess up those pretty nails.” He hummed, reaching out a hand. Seeing if you would let him take it.
When you didnt retract your hand he took it as a sign to hold your hand in his, thumb rubbing over your nails.
You finally spoke after watching his thumb touch your nails so gently “No.. dont kill anyone.”
“I could.”
“I wont come visit.”
“Fine, i wont…” Dex said begrudgingly, you two fell into a silence again. But this time it felt comfortable, warm even.
———
Skipping to Thanksgiving few months later, you arrived at your family home. Dex walked behind you like a puppy, per usual. But this time you were actually letting him hold your hand. Couple bite marks on his throat, high enough that his turtleneck doesnt even cover them. Dex doesnt want them covered eighter, happy that his pretty pretty wife is holding his hand, her marks on his throat. His marks were planted in deep deep places instead. Maybe you getting jealous wasnt so bad after all, after all it got him what he wanted all along.
You love twisting his words. Over the simplest thing, he asks you to pass the salt? You reply back with a “oh so my food is bland?”
He is so touchy when you are outside with family because he knows you wont push him away near family. So he pushes his luck to the brim.
You basically just use him sometimes and he loves it. Cant find an cab? You are standing beside his head demanding that he drives you wherever.
You try to make his life miserable, but loves that too. You whine about every single thing, hoping he’ll break his demeanor and act out. Which never happens it happened once and he hated himself for it.
Such a wife guy too, you dont say you’re married when meeting new people unless said people notices the ring and asks. But Dex? Everyone he met know he is married, very proud to be married.
Though if anyone who sees you acting cold or particularly passive aggressive to him and calls you out on it even jokingly he shuts it off so fast. “My wife can do whatever she pleases.” He says so quick.
Kisses your forehead every morning before he leaves, even though sometimes you pretend to be asleep just so wont talk to you. He knows you are awake though, you breathe different.
Protective too, if he knows you are going somewhere at night? He tails you, but most of the time it fails since he steps in between whenever something he deems as risky happens.
Hundred percent makes your pet love him to get in your eye. Pavlovs it if he has to, acting like its a shared baby just for you.
Started woking out at home often because he saw you look at his arms a second too long once.
Never says no when you ask for something, no matter how expensive or absurd it may be because its truly so rare that you ask for something.
If you make dinner, he’ll smile saying that you dont want him starve after all. His eyes truly sparke, he is such a wife guy idk. Like those comments on tiktok where they write “She can run me over with a truck and i’ll say sorry” thats so him.
warnings/tags: shane being shane (mean), p in v, outdoor sex, rough sex, mentions of blood, predator vs prey (?), age gap (both consenting adults), rope play, reader is a little insane and possessive, might be ooc but who knows,
summary: you try to prove you're strong by sneaking up on shane and fucking yourself on his cock while hes tied up !!!
a/n: im not proud of this one but i wanted to post something long for you guys to read anyways. :( not proofed. can also read on ao3
shane took what he wanted when he wanted, that was something you learned very early on with him. it's not like it was an issue to you, you loved him. a lot. more than you needed to, because he wasn't going to take this relationship anywhere with you and he made that clear. you still stayed. you stayed and you waited for him to change his mind one day.
he made you feel small and not in the physical sense. he made you feel inadequate. you were only there for one thing in his eyes and he made that very apparent.
"why're you calling me, old man? i didn't even know you knew how to work a phone." you teased, earning a low grumble from the other side of the phone. "yeah yeah. when can you come over." it wasn't a question and he didn't even seem excited. it was a an appointment to him. "i ain't a prostitute, ya'know that right?" you bite back this time and he scoffs in response.
"yeah, i would hope not. no one else touchin' my girl but me." he says it in a low, possessive tone that makes your throat suddenly go dry. he knows what to say to get you to feel feeble, he knew what to do when you got a little too comfortable talking back. what hurts the most is that you didn't even know if he meant what he was saying, or if you were even considered "his girl".
"whatever, shane. put your stupid hunting shit on and go to our usual spot. i'll be there soon." you end the conversation there, hanging up before he can smart mouth you again. you were gonna prove to him, prove to yourself, that he's not the only one that can take what he wants.
you move slow. every footstep counts. every noise you make by stepping on the corroded nature is one more thing that could make him aware of you. he hates being caught off guard. that's when you see him in the distance, the familiar greying hair and withered clothes from years of wearing it over and over. you felt your mouth fill up with drool as you tightened your grip on the rope you have in your pocket.
he's fiddling with his pocket knife as he's leaned up against a tree. slowly, you make your way to him. he's got no reason to suspect you would do this to him because he holds you to such a low standard.
"hey, shane."
for someone trained to counter stuff like this, he doesn't even react fast enough to you, assumingly because he doesn't see you as a threat. he's grunting as you tie his wrists to the back of the tree nice and tight so he can feel it. "the fuck are you doin'?" he thrashes in protest, a string of curses falling from his mouth. you shush him as you sink onto his lap, placing your hands on his chest and moving them down to feel him up.
you can't help but giggle before you press your lips to his, shutting him up as he kisses you back instantaneously. "of course you'd fold for some pussy. bet you didn't think i'd be able to rough you up like this." you say, pulling away as you unbutton your shirt, giving him a good eyeful of your chest. he swallows, not nervously, he swallows like he's starving.
"you're into some sick shit." he's not giving you the satisfaction of singing your praises out loud but you can see that he's hard, maybe that counts for something. you take out your pocket knife, ripping his shirt off. he was undoubtedly yours right now. yours to take. "i'm just here to take what i want, when i want. someone i know taught me that." he rolls his eyes at your comment. he lets you destroy the fabric of his shirt, shaking his head as you finish tearing it all off. "gonna have to buy me a new shirt."
you ignore him as you discard your knife somewhere into the woods to fetch later, taking his already hard cock into your hand and stroking it. "im into some sick shit but you're harder than you've ever been, ain't that say somethin'?" he can't help but whimper pathetically into your touch, ignoring your remark once again as he tries to break his restraints. "un-fuckin-tie me so i can fu- ahn, touch you." there he goes, demanding and never asking. it pisses you off so much that you slap him in the face with your free hand.
"good for you, princess. can only land a hit when i'm all vulnerable for you like this." he taunts you because he knows it'll egg you on, further giving him what he wants from you. you're too embarrassingly wet that you don't even care to try and keep up the performance as you line your entrance up with his cock, sinking down slowly. usually he would be the one doing it, slamming it in and bottoming out inside of you in one thrust.
he's groaning and cursing under his breath, loving the feeling of your tight cunt and hating the fact that he can't have his way with you. "fuckin' takin' too long, shit," you ignore him as you bottom out on his cock, noticing he's only throbbing bigger and bigger. you can feel him deep in your tummy and it makes you let out a breathless moan.
"'s it, let it out, let me watch how you work my cock, good fuckin' girl." you don't try to act strong anymore, his words making you let go as you bounce messily on his lap, he's watching you as he bites his lip so hard that there's blood starting to run down his chin. he looked so handsome like this, sat and restrained as you use him to make yourself feel good. you swore he liked it too.
"needed to prove myself t' you, make you see how - ahnn, strong i am" he smirks at your pathetic confession. "workin' me so fuckin' good- shit, thass'it, attagirl." he praises you as you become a mess on his cock, feeling your release build up in your stomach and making your clit throb. "go-nna fuckin' cum, fuck, yes" you babbled, not being able to notice him breaking out of the rope until he pins you to the ground.
"yeah, really thought you could keep me like that? huh?" he grunts, gripping your hips so hard that he's gonna imprint his fingers onto your skin. you don't fight it, you don't try to tell him no, you want this. as fucked up as it is, a little part of you wanted him to overpower you and put you in your place.
he's abusing your walls as he thrusts in and out of you, a calloused hand making its way to your neck and squeezing it. he's not going to be playing nice with you, like he ever did, even though you proved yourself. "pathetic fuckin' girl. take my cock, gonna fuck you into the ground." the way he's saying it through gritted teeth, pace never faltering on your wet cunt only pushes you closer to your finish.
"can tell you're gonna cum when you make that fuckin' face. go ahead, but i'm not done with you yet."
warnings/content — angst, fluff, alcohol consumption, reader and shane have a history together, arguing, shane is a smart ass, crying, love confessions, hurt/comfort, mention of shane being taller than the reader, shane is sweet near the end which almost feels ooc, i also know nothing about liquor so i apologize if my details are off hehe, no use of y/n, quickly proofread as always.
word count — 5.4k (ahhhh, my longest fic EVER)
a/n — it’s finally here!! this is probably my favorite fic i’ve ever written and i really hope you all enjoy it too! i had a fun time writing this & really enjoy writing for shane!
i was stuck between ending the fic this way or ending it with hate sex, but in the end i chose this one (which i’m somewhat regretting now) BUT if anyone would like to see some hate sex with shane i would not turn down the request. what who said that??? must’ve been the wind or something 🫢
feedback is always appreciated <3
────── .✦
“Look what the fuckin’ cat dragged in,” the words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them, an audible reaction to the sight before you. Shane, looking as brooding as ever, making his way towards the bar. Dressed in his usual uniform of a black cotton t-shirt, a flannel over top, dark pants, and a pair of tightly laced work boots. You watch as his eyes scan over you and you can tell that you are the last person he was hoping to see tonight by the look on his face alone. Ditto is all you can think.
“Shane fuckin’ Maguire, what are you doing here?” You spit out, a harsh laugh following the question. He takes a seat on the bar stool diagonal from you and orders a beer, making you wait for his response. Typical of him. Thinks the world oughta stop and wait specifically for him, so you’re no exception to this. You roll your eyes, raising your beer up and taking another long swig from the amber colored bottle, finishing it off. You tap the bottom of the now empty bottle on the bar in front of you, asking the bartender for another.
“Is a man not allowed to stop in for a nice cold drink every once in a while?” He scoffs, feigning the feeling of being hurt by your comment on his face, but the emotion doesn’t reach his eyes—they’re still empty. He can’t feign the emotion that well. He lets the look linger on his features for a few seconds before it’s gone completely and his usual cold, uninterested look returns. Still the same Shane that you once knew.
You watch as he shrugs the dark colored fleece-lined flannel from his shoulders, then down his arms. You try not to notice how the muscles in his arms contract with the simple movement, but it’s too hard to tear your eyes away. It’s like your brain is actively trying to betray you. You don’t have control over it anymore, it’s yanked the reins from your tight grasp and you have no say in the thoughts that are now plaguing your mind. All from one simple movement. Damn it, Shane.
He flings the flannel across the barstool next to him, the one that’s closer to you, and the motion of the fabric gliding through the air sends a slight rush of wind towards you. You breathe in and you can smell the lingering scent of pine, dirt, and the musky cologne that he wears, all left behind from Shane. The smell is all too familiar, all too distinctively Shane for you to handle right now. You’re still staring at him when his eyes catch yours. You watch as a knowing smirk forms on his lips, his eyes staring directly into yours. You pull your gaze away finally and focus on the bartender in front of you.
The bartender slides the two of you two brand new bottles of beer across the bar and you graciously accept yours, taking a nice, long drink of it. You’re going to need it for tonight. “Just surprised, s’all,” you finally begin, sucking air between your teeth in annoyance. “You know, seeing you in here with all the civilized folks. Mimicking behaviors, pretending you’re one of us. Thought you’d rather be out there with your animals, where you fit in the most.” You smile sweetly, proud of the snarky comment that you’ve fired out across the bar at him. Knowing him, you should probably take cover now before he loads his tongue and returns fire. His aim is unrivaled and he never misses—both with a real gun and with his calculated, quick words.
“Ouch,” he starts, furrowing his eyebrows and raising his hand to his chest to cover his heart as if you have aimed perfectly and pierced him in one of his most vital organs. “Why do I feel like I’m doin’ nothing but catching your anger tonight? No one else to throw it out at?” He questions, moving his hand from his heart to the cold beer in front of him. You watch as he grabs it and brings it towards his lips, tipping his head back to allow the cold liquid into his mouth and down his throat. You watch the movement of his sharp jaw, the way his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. He’s not even putting up a fight like you wanted him to.
“Guess not.” You answer simply, looking down towards your lap for a beat before you raise your eyes back up and in his direction. His eyes are already focused on you as if they never left. You feel the temperature in your cheeks rise and you’re cursing yourself silently. You don’t know if the change in your body’s temperature is due to embarrassment for how you immediately attacked him tonight, or if it’s something else. Something that you’ve thrown into the furthest depths of your being and locked away, but it’s a room you know you still have the key to. You come to the conclusion that it’s a mixture of both embarrassment and the feelings you’re trying to keep at bay.
He speaks before you can let any more syllables slip past your lips. “Gotta make my way back to civilization every once in a while. If I stay out there too long my most primal, animalistic instincts would take over completely.” Even if you weren’t looking at him, you could hear the smirk just in his voice alone. But you are looking at him, so you’re graced, or much rather cursed, with being able to hear and see the smirk that’s plastered on his lips as he maintains eye contact with you. You snort, rolling your eyes. He starts again, “I do prefer being out there with the animals. They don’t bitch and whine at me like the rest of you do.”
“They can’t call you out on all your bullshit, Maguire. You prefer an opponent who can only fight back physically, not one that can make you realize what kind of person you really are.” You huff, finally breaking eye contact and turning your focus towards the bottle in front of you. Your grip on it is so tight that your knuckles are turning white from the pressure. You loosen your grip and pray that Shane hasn’t noticed your physical reaction to his presence and words alone. He knows just how to crawl under your skin and poke and prod around in all the wrong places. You raise the bottle and take another drink, hoping that the alcohol will help loosen your tightly bound nerves.
“I already know what kind of person I am, sweetheart.” He sneers, and your eyes dart towards him at the sound of the nickname. Sweetheart. It makes you sick.
“Don’t call me that, Shane.” You start, and your voice is mean—lethal is a better word for it. You surprise yourself with just how much bitterness is laced between the words that just slipped from your tongue. “You don’t get to call me that. Not anymore.” You finish, shaking your head, but it’s more towards yourself than towards him.
He throws his hands up in mock surrender, raising his eyebrows along in the process. “I hear you loud and clear. No nicknames.” His response is non-chalant. God, you hate that about him. Your feeling of being embarrassed for attacking him at first sight tonight has dissipated now. He deserves every harsh word that leaves your mouth. You raise your beer to your lips again and take a long drink, finishing it off. You set the now empty glass bottle on the bar in front of you before slipping off of your barstool. “Where are you going?” You hear Shane ask as you breeze past him, but you don’t respond, you don’t even look back. If you did look back, you might’ve seen the way his eyes trailed your figure as you made your way towards the bathroom.
Once you’re in the safety and security of the empty bathroom, your nerves ease just the smallest bit. You need a breather—just a minute alone away from him. You look at yourself in the oversized mirror that’s hanging above the perfect, porcelain sink. The reflection staring back at you is tired, drained. “What the fuck are you doing?” You ask yourself out loud, as if the person on the other side of the mirror is a different entity from yourself entirely. A different body and mind that has the answers to why you’re actively trying to destroy yourself when you sit out at that barstool in the presence of him.
You wish it was someone else, but alas, it’s just you on the other side. The same body and mind that has no real answers to the questions that are plaguing your mind. With no one on the other side to talk you into ending the night here and leaving Shane sitting on that barstool alone, you give yourself one last look in the mirror before exiting the bathroom and making your way back to your seat at the bar.
“There she is,” Shane says as your feet bring you closer to the bar stool. You ignore his comment and pass by him to reach your seat, but there’s now a glass of what looks to be bourbon sitting in front of your barstool on the bar. “Thought you needed something a bit stronger than beer.” He answers, noticing the confusion that’s plastered on your features. You nod, taking your seat. This is how Shane was—argumentative one minute, then doing something kind the next and acting like it’s nothing. You reach for the glass in front of you and pull it closer towards you, swirling the liquid around before taking a drink. You feel the liquor making its way down your throat, settling in your stomach. It leaves behind a nice warm feeling in its path. You cling to the warmth, a feeling you haven’t felt tonight.
“Jim Beam,” he speaks again, watching as you drink the liquor he bought you. “You still like the cheap stuff?” He questions, finishing off his beer and flagging down the bartender to order his own glass. The question is simple, but the thought of him remembering anything, even something as trivial as drinking cheap liquor, about you is like a kick to the ribs. You feel that familiar feeling trying to claw its way up from the deepest parts of you. That room is still locked, but the hinges are starting to give.
“How’d you know I wasn’t leaving?” You ignore his question, tracing your finger around the rim of the glass as it sits in front of you. You watch as the bartender brings him his drink and he takes a large gulp, almost finishing the glass in one swallow. He never was one to savor anything. Food, drinks, you.
“Could tell you weren’t completely finished with me yet.” He responds simply, and you hate that he still has some grasp on how your mind works. You nod, bringing your glass to your lips and finishing off your drink as well. You set the glass back on the bar and avert your attention back to Shane. He’s tapping his finger against the thin, empty glass that’s sitting in front of him.
“Thank you.” you say finally. The first kind words you’ve spoken to Shane Maguire all night. The first kind words you’ve spoken to Shane Maguire in months, really. His eyes meet yours and there’s a flicker of something you can’t quite read. Surprise, maybe? Shock? You’re not quite sure, but it would make sense from the sudden switch in your tone. “For the drink.” You clarify, and he nods his head to acknowledge the words, but doesn’t give you a verbal response.
“What brought you to the bar tonight?” His words are quick, but he seems genuinely curious. Now you’re the one that’s surprised.
“I wanted to get drunk.” You say the five words like they’re the most obvious thing in the world. Which really, they are. Why else would you come to the hotel bar by yourself on a Tuesday night? You have no hidden agenda. He shoots you a look and you just shrug your shoulders. He laughs. It’s one of his real laughs and god you hate the sound of it. You hate the sound of it because you love it so much.
It reminds you of being woken up at the first sign of dawn, Shane kneeling in his tent with a cup of black coffee just for you. Him laughing at your “bed head” as he called it, which you argued should be categorized as “sleeping bag head” due to there being no real bed in sight. You think about how he talked you into going camping, how much you argued that you wouldn’t like it—you were proven so wrong. You absolutely adored it. The sounds of the birds chirping in the early morning, the fresh scent of pine that blew through the wind when the trees swayed. How safe you felt at night tucked under Shane’s protective arm.
You’re almost fully immersed in the memory when Shane's raspy voice pulls you from it. The picture perfect memory has been shattered, and you’re back in the confines of the bar with him sitting a few seats away from you.
“You doing okay over there?” His voice is unsure. Your eyes focus back in on him and he’s looking at you still. “Seems like you left there for a minute.” The words hit you like a truck. Who was he to act like he cared about you?
“Why are you acting like everything is normal?” The question sits in the air as the two of you look at each other silently. The tension between the two of you has now doubled and it’s not just you feeling it. Shane could ignore it all he wanted before, but now you’ve made it impossible to ignore.
“What am I supposed to do? Sit here and make both of our nights a living hell just because we have a history together?” He scoffs, and you can’t believe the words that just came out of his mouth. You feel your blood becoming hotter as if he had reached inside of you and turned your internal thermostat up to the highest setting.
“That’s the difference between you and I, Shane!” The words come out louder than you expect them to. You see someone across the room glance over at the two of you, so you try to keep your voice under control when you speak again. “My night is a living hell. I have actual feelings for you that I can’t just ignore unlike you who feels nothing for me.” You’re sure it’s the alcohol that’s making you this open with him, but at this point you don’t even care anymore. The pent up anger you’ve felt towards him for months is finally boiling its way to your surface and letting it out hurts less than covering it with a lid and keeping it trapped inside, waiting for it to slowly come back down to a low simmer.
“Who said I feel nothing towards you?” Shane spits back out at you immediately. You can tell that he thinks it’s his turn to be upset now. His eyes are wide with shock and he’s leaning closer towards you than he has all night. “You have no fucking idea what’s going on inside of me, so don’t try to act like you do.” He finishes, leaning back against the back of his chair again. His eyes are still on you, but they’re darker now—angrier. If looks could kill, you would be laid out dead on the floor of the bar right now.
“That,” you emphasize the word, and now it’s your turn to lean in closer towards him, “Is—was,” you correct yourself, “The whole problem, Shane. You never talked about anything with me. I was left to try to figure out what was going on between us and you don’t leave very good clues. You’re too stubborn for your own fucking good, Maguire.” You huff, and you think that the amount of anger you’re feeling right now masks the copious amount of hurt you’re feeling tingle underneath your skin. You were fine with Shane seeing you angry at him, but seeing you be hurt by him? That was something else entirely.
“We were never going to last.” He ends the sentence with your name and your heart constricts at the sound of it. “I was doing you a favor, ending it when I did.”
Favor.
A favor.
He thinks he was doing you a fucking favor?
He thinks that throwing you to the side like you were nothing was doing you a favor? The sentence actually makes you laugh. The sound abrupts from you loudly and you watch as Shane looks at you with confusion plastered on his face.
“You’re so fucking full of yourself, Shane. I actually can’t believe it. You’ve somehow painted yourself as the good guy in that fucked up head of yours and the funniest part is that you actually believe it. I can’t fucking stand you.” You finally break your eyes away from his face—his beautifully worn face, and your eyes dart around the room, looking for anything else to focus on. The more you search the bar that’s set back in the hotel lobby, the more you realize that this is not where you need to be having this conversation with Shane fucking Maguire.
You grab your bag angrily and open it, digging through the messy contents for your wallet. You find it eventually and take some cash out before throwing the bills down on the bar in front of you. You’ve probably thrown down more money than what your drinks actually cost, but you would pay any price to be out of the presence of Shane Maguire right now. You swing yourself off of the barstool and land on your feet clumsily. The liquor mixed with the beer is definitely not doing your balance any favors.
“What are you doing?” You hear Shane’s deep voice as you make your way past him, but you don’t answer. You’ve talked to him enough for tonight. Your feet quickly carry you to the front door of the hotel lobby where you make your exit to the large parking lot. Once you’re outside, it hits you that you drank too much to drive yourself home.
“Fuck.” You whisper to yourself angrily as you begin to pace the parking lot. You’re reaching into your pocket for your phone when you hear his familiar, heavy footsteps making their way towards you. You don’t want to look up—you already know who it is, but you do look up. Shane. He has his flannel back on now. His hair is tousled like he’s ran his hand through it one too many times on the short walk he’s made to reach you. “Leave me alone.” You bark out, returning your focus back to your phone. You’re trying to type your password in, but your hands are shaking from the mixture of anger and nerves. You type in the wrong password for the fifth time which causes your phone to lock itself down. You groan in frustration, lowering your hand down to your thigh.
“You can’t drive yourself. Not like this. You’re too worked up and even if you weren’t, you drank too much to drive yourself anywhere tonight.” Shane finally speaks and his words are calm, reasonable even, which only causes another wave of hot anger to flood your entire being. You’re watching him as you pace back and forth. He’s standing on the sidewalk a few feet away from you. His stance is firm, his arms are folded in front of his chest and you feel like a child again whose father is scolding them for an action they’ve made impulsively.
“Do you think I don’t know that? I’m not that stupid, Shane. I’m trying to get someone to pick me up.” You wave your phone out in front of you to prove your words. “I don’t need you acting like you care about my well being.” You roll your eyes before turning and making your way further into the dark parking lot to distance yourself from him as much as possible. It doesn’t work, of course. As you make your way deeper into the parking lot, you hear his heavy steps trailing behind you. He’s a pest that just won’t leave you alone no matter how many times you swat at him.
“I do care about your well being.” The words cause you to stop dead in your tracks. You turn on your heel and make your way back towards him. You don’t have to take too many steps, his long strides made it easy for him to keep up with you as he followed you. Before you know it, you’re standing inches from his chest. The closest you’ve been to Shane Maguire in months. You're looking up at him with fire in your eyes while he’s looking down at you with something you can’t quite place. You don’t let yourself think about it for too long before you begin with your assault of words on him.
“Do not tell me that. You don’t get to leave me and not speak to me for months just to pop back up into my life out of pure chance and speak to me so casually as if nothing ever happened between us.” Your heart is beating so loudly in your ears that you can barely hear yourself speak. The words that are flowing so easily out of your mouth have been festering inside of you for months, just waiting to be able to have the chance to expel themselves from your body and into the world. They’ve found their intended target and they’re doing as much as they can to tear him down. “You don’t get to act like you care about me. It’s not fair, Shane. I know that you can acknowledge somewhere in your brain that what you’re doing to me right now isn’t fair.” You finally finish and your chest is heaving from the mixture of anger you’re carrying and the need to bring more air in.
You feel your eyes begin to prick with tears, but you don’t raise your hands to try to wipe them away. You know that once you acknowledge them, that means they’re real. You let them make a home for themselves in the corners of your eyes and pray to whatever higher power is out there that they stay put and don’t start to flow down your cheeks freely.
In one swift movement, so quick that you don’t even register what’s happening at first, Shane’s large hands have found their way to your cheeks and his lips have connected to yours. Your eyes are open for a few seconds in shock before you close them and return the kiss. Your body has betrayed your mind so many times tonight that you’ve lost count. Shane has that effect on you. His lips are slightly chapped just like the last time you felt them pressed against your own. The kiss feels needy on both ends as if this is what both of you have been craving. You break away as you come to your senses. This is wrong. You’re looking up at Shane with confusion in your eyes, your faces still merely inches apart. His hands are still on your cheeks as if that’s exactly where they’re meant to be.
“What are you—what was that?” You stutter, tearing yourself away from him further. You don’t make it very far before he’s grabbing ahold of your wrist.
“Fuck—I love you.” He breathes out quickly before you can say anything else or tear yourself away from him any further.
The words knock the wind straight out of you. You’re not sure you heard him right, but you’re sure that you’re not currently breathing.
Love?
Love.
Those feelings that you had trapped deep down inside of you in that dark room have busted through the door and they’re now racing their way back up to your heart.
”No,” is all you can get out at first. You feel the dam break and the tears that were living in the corners of your eyes are now making their way down your cheeks. “No. No, you don’t. You can’t tell me that, Shane.” You throw the words out quickly, and all you see him do at first is nod at your words.
“I do, and I know.” He starts, releasing his grip from your wrist and bringing his hands to your cheeks again. He’s wiping at the tears on your cheeks with the calloused pads of his thumbs. You’re sure this is the softest he’s ever been with you. “I’m so sorry, I know this isn’t fair. I know I left you and I know this is confusing. I’m fucking confused, too. It was easier for me to turn away from you than to face my feelings head on like a man.” You can tell he’s telling the truth from the look on his face alone. It’s too much for you to handle right now. “I thought that me loving you would only fuck things up for you. I thought that I was doing you a favor by getting you as far away from me as I could.” The words are confirmation that you did nothing wrong, but they still make your heart ache. In some screwed up way, Shane was doing what he thought would benefit you the most.
“You still hurt me, Shane. I should fucking hate you right now.” You cry out, but you nuzzle your cheek further into his palm. You watch him nod through teary vision and the anger that’s in your body is slowly being divided between anger, sadness, and confusion. Confusion because you don’t hate him. At this point you don’t think you could ever hate him. Confusion because you do love him, despite the screwed up way he treated you while thinking he was protecting you. It’s an odd feeling, receiving comfort from the same person who caused you all this grief.
“You should. I know that. I wouldn’t fault you for it.” He tells you, moving his hands from your cheeks to wrap his arms around your back. You fall into his embrace, pressing your face into his chest and breathing in his familiar scent as you let your tears fall freely now. The adrenaline that you’ve felt in your bloodstream all night is quickly dissipating and both your body and mind are crashing. You’re so tired. You can tell that Shane feels it too from the way your body is slumping against his.
“You can’t do this to me again, Shane—” You tell him, and he cuts you off before you can continue your sentence.
“I’m not going to. I promise you I won’t.” You feel his large hand rubbing soothing circles against your back as the words come out of his mouth. You so desperately want to believe him. At this moment in time, you don’t think there’s anything in this whole entire universe that you want more than that.
“I’m still angry, Shane, but I’m so tired now.” You continue, the words are muffled against his chest, but he hears you. You feel his chest vibrating under your cheek, but you can’t make out what he says. He’s pulling away from you now, grabbing your hand in his and leading you back inside the hotel. You don’t fight him anymore, trailing behind him as he makes his way into the hotel to pay for a room for the night before he leads you to the elevator. Your tears have stopped now and your brain is on autopilot after the emotional rollercoaster that the night has been. He leads you down the corridor and into the hotel room, shutting the door behind you.
You sit down on the bed and Shane kneels in front of you, untying the laces of your shoes and pulling them from your feet before setting them neatly beside the bed. He grabs the hemline of your shirt, bringing the fabric up your stomach. He’s able to rid you of the material with a bit of help from you maneuvering your arms to make it easier for him. You're both quiet as you move through the motions, just taking in the presence of one another. You're taking in how physically close you are to him just as much as how emotionally close you are to him at this moment. You knew you missed Shane before, but his gentle touches have multiplied that feeling tenfold.
“Up.” He tells you quietly and you follow the direction, standing up from the bed in front of him. His face is level with your stomach now. You feel him undoing the button of your pants before lowering the zipper and pulling the fabric down your legs. You step out of the jeans, placing your hands on his sturdy shoulders to steady yourself. He places a quick kiss to your stomach before rising to his feet again, now towering over you. You’re bare in front of him now, aside from your bra and underwear, but there’s nothing sexual about the acts that are happening. Just two people taking comfort in being around each other, open with each other.
He shrugs his flannel off and sets it on the chair behind him before peeling his own shirt off as well. You think he’s going to place it on top of his flannel, but he maneuvers your head through the neck hole, then your arms through the arm holes. You’re now enveloped in his scent as his shirt engulfs your frame. You bring your fingers to the hemline, rubbing the worn cotton between your fingers. “Lay down.” He orders you gently, so you crawl into the oversized hotel bed and lay on top of the duvet. You run your hands across the soft covers, gripping at them with your fingers.
“Are you going to lay with me?” You voice quietly, watching with tired eyes as he keeps his distance from the bed. You’re hoping that his answer will be the one that you want to hear.
“Yes, I want to. If you want me to.” He answers, voice filled with raw honesty. You nod your head and that’s all the confirmation he needs before he’s unlacing his boots, undoing his belt buckle, and pulling his pants down his legs. You feel the dip in the bed from his weight as he places his full body weight on the bed, situating himself so that he is laying next to you finally. You scoot closer to him, a silent invitation for him to touch you. He quickly gets the hint and turns on his side to face you, throwing an arm over you in the process.
The position you’re laying in with him brings you back to that night camping in the woods again. That same feeling of being protected by Shane is flooding your body all over again, just from his arm being draped across you. You scoot closer into his chest, resting your hand against his warm, bare skin.
“I love you, too.” You finally tell him, letting your feelings towards him share space in the world and not just be trapped inside of you. You draw patterns against his skin, feeling goosebumps starting to form right underneath the tips of your fingers as you drag them around lazily.
“I know,” He tells you simply, placing a small kiss on your forehead. “Get some sleep.” He says finally, squeezing your bicep with his hand before resting the hand flat against the top of your back, pushing you even closer to him.
This dynamic between you and Shane is complicated—some would even call it toxic, which you could agree with to some extent. Shane is a complicated man, his mind is an intricate maze that you can rarely ever solve. You're sure he could say the same thing about you. In the end, you're both just two broken people who are trying to do their best at quietly fixing themselves with pieces that sometimes don't fit, but you’re still learning—and you’re both still trying.
You know that there’s still a long road ahead for the two of you, but for the first time in months you’re able to fall into a deep, comfortable sleep with Shane in bed beside you.
Benjamin Poindexter never raised his voice at you.
He got sharp sometimes. Quiet and distant. His jaw would lock up so hard you thought his teeth might crack, but yelling? That wasn’t Dex. Dex controlled himself with brutal precision because he knew exactly what happened when he didn’t.
Which was why the second it happened, the entire apartment went dead silent.
“Can you just stop talking for one second?!”
The words hit harder than they should have.
You froze in the kitchen doorway, still holding the glass of water you’d brought him.
Dex stood near the table, shoulders tight, breathing uneven. There were dark circles under his eyes, his FBI jacket half-unzipped, hands trembling faintly from exhaustion. He’d barely slept in two days. Barely eaten. Every muscle in his body looked wound too tight.
But the second he saw your face—
He broke.
“No—”
The anger vanished instantly, like someone ripped it out of him.
His expression collapsed into horror.
“No no no…”
The glass shook slightly in your hand as Dex stumbled toward you too fast, panic flooding his features.
“I didn’t mean that.” His voice cracked immediately. “I didn’t—I wasn’t yelling at you, I just—”
He swallowed hard, eyes already watering.
You’d seen dex kill a man without blinking.
But this?
This destroyed him.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, quieter now. Desperate. “Please don’t look at me like that.”
You hadn’t even realized you looked hurt until he said it.
Dex grabbed both sides of his head like he was trying to physically stop himself from unraveling.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated shakily. “I’m so fucking tired and everything’s loud and I—I took it out on you and I swore I’d never do that.”
His breathing became uneven.
Then the tears started.
Not dramatic nor manipulative. Just terrified.
He looked at you like he genuinely believed one wrong move would make you leave.
“Please say something,” he whispered.
The glass barely made it onto the counter before he caught your wrists carefully, almost afraid you’d pull away.
“I didn’t mean it,” he kept saying, voice breaking more each time. “I don’t want to hurt you. I would never hurt you.”
“Dex—”
“I know what I sound like when I lose control—I didn't mean it I swear” A tear slid down his face and he looked furious at himself for it. “I know what I am when I get like this.”
Your chest tightened.
Because beneath the exhaustion and panic, there it was—
Fear.
Not fear of being alone.
Fear of becoming someone dangerous to you.
Dex lowered his head suddenly, gripping your hands tighter.
“I’m trying so hard,” he said quietly, crying now without even hiding it. “I’m trying so hard to be good with you.”
That did it.
You pulled him into you immediately.
His entire body jerked in surprise before he folded against you like he was holding himself together by threads alone. One arm wrapped around your waist so tightly it almost hurt while the other covered his face.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against your shoulder over and over again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
You ran your fingers through his hair carefully.
“You scared me for a second,” you admitted softly.
Dex let out a broken sound that was halfway to a sob.
“I know.”
“But I’m not leaving.”
He went still.
Then he finally looked at you, eyes red and wet, like he didn’t quite believe what he heard.
“You’re not?”
You shook your head gently.
Dex stared at you for a long moment before pressing his forehead against yours, breathing shakily.
“Don’t be nice to me right now, slap me, punch me...” he whispered painfully. “I don’t deserve it. You're being too kind to me.”
Your thumb brushed under his eye.
“Good thing I decide that. Not you.”
For the first time all night, his shoulders finally loosened.
⤷ ✶ Shane Maguire follows you to your room while the party continues downstairs ✶
Warnings: Shane is dad's best friend! Smoking. Explicit Sexual Language. Unprotected sex. Risky sex. Exactly one use of "daddy" (I really tried not to y'all! but he's so yummy). Breeding kink and cockwarming if you squint. Shane is a menace.
Word count: 1.4k
A/N: As usual, English is not my native language, so please let me know if you find any grammar or spelling mistake.
Hope you enjoy!
If you could, you'd have already screamed at Shane Maguire. Alas, there was too many people in the damn party your father decided to throw last minute.
It is early June and the wind blowing through your childhood bedroom is cold, enough to push you to wear the ugly but warm cardigan you found somewhere in the house.
The crack on the floor behind the closed door makes you turn around like a deer in the headlights, but you quickly remember you no longer are the teenager who used to smoke in secret. If your parents didn't like a smoker in the house you'd gladly stay the rest of the holiday on a hotel somewhere else.
The cigarette burns your fingertips, as if it's on your parents side, and you hiss. You throw the butts in the ashtray.
"I thought I'd find you here," murmurs the voice you least wanted to hear.
"Don't act like this is normal, Maguire." The deep breath do little to calm you. "In fact, if you could just leave my room, that'd be great."
"So you don't mind if I stay in the house?"
The malice in his tone isn't lost to you, it is ignored. You don't dare face him either, that is, until the door banged so loudly you chastise him.
"Sorry, angel. Don't you want your father to know I'm here?"
"You know damn well why that is. Don't play coy now."
Shane is so close now the smell of him infects everything, stronger than the nicotine. The glint coloring his eyes is not unfamiliar to you, but it's a danger you can't afford to get trapped by.
The things left unsaid burn more than the actual words could. The windowsill hits hard against your back when you step back. The ashtray makes a loud thud when it finds the lawn all the way down — you jump.
"Fuck."
"It's okay, angel." His arms surround you, feeling the texture of the ugly cardigan on your hip and back. "Your parents already moved to the front porch."
Fighting him previously proved to be useless, so you do the next dumb thing. Shane smiles when your hands find his nape.
"What are you doing here, Shane?" You yank his hair, pulling him close. "We had an agreement — not to make our life miserable. You're not supposed to come to my house!"
"Ow! Keep your claws away!" He grab your wrists in his hands and you fight him despite yourself. It is too attempting.
"Let go of me first!"
"No!" he hiss into your mouth. The hold he has in you is steady, you fighting did nothing but bring you closer. "I didn't come to your house. I haven't been there since last spring, as you may remember. I'm at my friend's."
"You know what I meant."
"Will you stop it? I'll let go"
"You've proven you can't let go of me."
He groans and you feel the humming deep in his chest, but let go.
"Dammit."
"Shane," you try to reason. "Please. This is futile. You know we can't."
And yet…, he thought, noticing you failed to step away from him. Your warmth still burns his skin.
"You're right," he allows, for your sake. "I can't keep away from you. I don't want to. And the agreement was to keep away to not make us suffer."
In the end, it was you whom broke the distance and kissed him.
But it was him who pulled you closer still to him. Him who deepened the kiss. Him who lifted your skirt all the way up.
"Shane. C'mon," you push his chest, turn your face. But there's no real fight in your tone and he catches it.
"Don't worry," he smile between kisses in your cheek and neck. "Let me take care of you."
He pushes you up into the windowsill and you gasp. The fucker uses the opportunity to kiss you again, working his tongue on your open mouth. You're way too docile when he have his lips on you — at the back of your mind you make note to at least try to resist his ministrations the next time. Then he buries his hand on your hair and yank it — his revenge, you know — and you're putty on his hand.
He lower his kisses to your neck.
The thought of someone leaving the kitchen to walk the garden makes you shiver for all the wrong reasons and you beg Shane to hurry. But in truth you trust him not to expose you like this, he knows you are in a tight spot professionally and the party is but a ploy to launch your entry into a firm. There is important people present, your future defends on it.
All the more reasons this excites you.
The whine around his name that leaves your mouth is entirely involuntary when he squeezes your ass and thrust hard against your center.
"God, angel. I bet you're soaked," he whispers in your neck. He bite down hard, then kisses lazily in apology. "You weren't this needy the first time. Did you miss me?"
Your back arches. If you opened your eyes, you'd see your favorite constellation above you. You were too entertained with the feeling of his dexterous fingers against your pantyhose to care for anything else.
You almost lose the cue to answer him.
"Will you just fuck me already?" you squeeze him tighter, pressing your face on his chest. "You know we don't have much time."
"Oh, still bratty. That I remember."
You chuckle.
"You're right, though." He rips a hole in your pantyhose. "No time to play."
You help him out of his jeans, the belts clinking a lovely sound.
"You'll have to be quiet. Can you manage?"
"Yes," you whine. "Please, Shane. Just… hurry."
"As you wish, pretty girl. Take a deep breath."
Then he is inside you, all of his glorious length in one thrust — you are wet enough to make it go in smoothly.
The first moan was inevitable, you could only hope the following is muffled by his thick sweater.
If you had feared falling down before, it is in the past now. The grip Shane has on your back and nape is unmovable and he pulls you closer at each thrust of his hip. You cling unto his neck for life and moan with abandon. He too lets out groans of pleasure, but is ultimately better at keeping it down.
The party is still going downstairs but you can't help it. It had been too long since you last saw him. He smells the same as before, bark and musk and something entirely him — it leaves you inebriated. The wide of him fills you perfectly, the stretch makes you all the more wetter and eager. And he haven't shut up, whispering such filthy in that raspy tone you adored.
Then he pushes you against the wall, his dick somehow managing to go deeper than before. You have to bite your lip to hold the obscene moan threatening to fall off.
"Shane," you beg. Your leg work as a lock on his back, keep you secure in place. "Shane."
"I know, angel. I know. I'm close too."
He hips pistons unto you, reaching that special spot with accuracy, the noise maddening.
"Where do you want me?"
"Inside."
Shane groans at that. Its not like you have time to clean up after. And you want to keep him inside for longer.
Just the thought of it — of going back to the guests with the remains of him in you, smelling of his perfume — do the trick. You look up, chasing his lips, and ride the feeling the best you can, humping him as much as the thigh grip on your hips allow. The pantyhose is drenched in your fluids, Shane's cock fucks into you slower than before, erratically.
Soon enough, Shane is kissing and biting and moaning in union with you. His cock is so deep inside you. Having his arms around you gives a feeling of comfort and security.
You don't want to let go. You swallow it all.
"You're squeezing me so hard, angel"
"Daddy."
"Oh, baby, I know." He don't let go of you right away; instead, he allows you to have your moment and keep his dick inside of you. He kisses you cheek, petting your disheveled hair. "How do you feel now?"
"Better," you clear your throat. "Thank you, Shane."
"Don't thank me yet, angel." He uncross your legs and set you down. Legs wobbly.
"What do you mean?" You lean on him for support. Still vulnerable. Still pliable.
"I love you, angel. I'm not letting anyone take you away from me."
"I love you too, Shane," you smile, hugging his frame.
With his face buried in your hair, he takes a deep breath of you. Hugs you closer.
"Your parents saw us from the garden."
A/N: Before you ask, yes, I really meant to say it was cold in June. I imagine most readers are from the Northern Hemisphere (considering this fic is written in english)and it's spring for you guys, but here in the Southern Hemisphere it's autumn and it's cold.
I know that Shane lives in the United States and all that, but since it's fiction (and such a small detail) I took this liberty.
It's really not that big of a deal, probably no one took notice, but I wanted to clarify.
Likes and reblogs are always welcome! Let me know if you liked it!
