⍰　 kaomoji Elements　 ര

okay u guys really liked the last png dump, here are some more!!! same thing, f2u, no credit needed, just reblog if you used em :3

What’s your fantasy?

like or reblog if you use/save ~☆

SubTop!Detective X DomBot!Criminal reader ⁉️⁉️

reader likes to break into detectives home and begs for some action (as usual) after getting an drenaline rush after committing a crime‼️‼️ ENEMIES WITH BENEFITS NATION WHRRR Y @⁉️⁉️🗣️🗣️

subtop!m!detective, dombot!criminal!m!reader,

toxic relationship?! dubcon;groping, hatefucking-ish? degredation. minors, ageless blogs dni

he's in his 30s. a detective? a man who often fights with a damn little punk who's slippery as fuck and gets on his nerves. a deranged, delusional, tatted up brat who makes his life harder. he swore he saw your face todayㅡbut he blames it on lack of sleep. that's all it is. he hasn't seen you in a few days - only hearing about what you're doing in the reports, news anchors, and his associates. you make him sick.

rejecting an invitation to drinks when there's work to be done. work of tracking down some twerp who breaks in and out of his house, rearranging his things, never stealingㅡfucking with him. touching him, playing with him, making him feel ... good,,,

lonely… getting home after a particularly late night… some sad-looking rugged man looking lost, thoughts of a criminal and his dick plaguing his mind. intrusive thoughts about your naked body on his again? despicable.

no lights were on, just how he left it. locking the door behind him and wandering toward the kitchen - messy and cluttered with boxes of files sitting around collecting dust. switching the light to the kitchen onㅡa cup on the counter catching his attention.

how could he be so absentminded? he berates himself, grasping the cup and his expression twitches in surpriseㅡhuh… the cup is cold...! freezing, even. what is this? he gives it a sniff - noticing how it fizzes, bubbling.

of course… some one broke into his house and is drinking his fucking cola of all things? he has no friends, he knows he has no friends that he's close enough with for them to just waltz right in??!! no key to hand out, no parents to be paying him any visitsㅡ

on guard, hand cautiously placed on the pistol holstered on his belt,. ,,, pausing in his steps as nearly misses it - is that a toilet flushing? what the fuck? a masculine grunt matching footsteps stalking closer; emerging from the darkness of his hallway...! the kitchen light illuminating your face. that stupid expression on your face...

his heart beats a little harder against his chest. why isn't he surprised? and why are you sweaty?

“hiii,” you waved, grinning joyfully; shirtless and in pajama pantsㅡ his pajama pants? you look exhausted...

ㅡ“hey, yeah, you really shouldn't leave your windows unlocked, someone could rob you.” you advise smartly, shuffling closer and grabbing the cup, “i didn't know you could be so reckless!” you tut, shaking your head, scolding him? poking him in the shoulder.

oh... you didnt wash your hands. he grimaces.

ㅡ"i could arrest you for breaking and entering," is what comes from his choked up figure, "for - f-for assault, for burglary, for everything you've done." including heartbreak? you leave him after you've milked him dry and he just wants more. hand on his gun, never leaving as he eyes you warily. "right now, i could."

"you wouldn't," comes your voice, utterly sure of yourself as you lean a little closer, excited. humming as you inhale his natural scent. feeling like some little househusband fondling his husband after waiting for him to get home... which is exactly whats happening, isnt it? aha...

gross. body odor. damn, he smells so fucking good... he looks a little sweaty, too - hah. you're making him nervous. you reach out, pressing your fingers to his lips. unwashed dick hands... he splutters as he tilts his head away, instinctively licking his lips.

ㅡ"don't be so sour. don't give me that face - i've missed you too." undiscouraged, your free hand trailing down, grasping his. bringing it to your lips... mwah.

so why havent you come around sooner? he bites back unsaid, glaring at you as his grip on your own hand tightens. he's a lonely man. lonely men are dangerous - not to be trifled with, yet here you are! he rips his hand away, scoffing. placing it on your shoulder and ... feeling your skin underneath... huh.

his hand gripping your shoulder as he tilts his head down. how is it some disgusting person like you gets him going so easily? all you're doing is just... standing there. in his clothes. "... stop staring." the detective mutters, narrowing his eyes at you. he can feel your eyes lurking low. hes flustered. his face is burning hot and he's hard. miraculous, no?

"i can't help it. it's staring at me." you retorted, scowling at him humorously, "i said, i've missed you." you mutter, voice growing a dangerous edge as you push against him, chest to chest. whats wrong with a little foreplay?

there it is... he's so cute. "don't tell me you havent gotten any action the last time we fucked? what, you missed me that much? don't be gay..." you chastise, hand disappearing from view - an electirc shock climbing his spine at the warmth of your hand on his groin. huh. fuck.

ㅡ fuck. that's it. he hates it how you know where everything is. lube, condoms, acting like you own the place. playing with yourself on top of him... isn't this a great way to destress? but... it only makes him more stressed when you leave.

laying him out, giving a little fight as you strip him roughly. he forgets you have muscle. he forgets you can throw him around like a ragdoll. and you forget he can actually arrest you. he eyes you warily, unsure of what to do with his hands as you're hovering above him, naked in all your glory. grimy...

"when's the last time you showered?" you give him a dirty look, eyeing his bare cock warily, making fun of him for the look he was giving you... always, always messing with him. bullying him... he can throw you around too-! no warning as you abruptly handle him, reaching down and grasping his girth slick with a mixture lube and cum, "yuck," you muttered. chest to chest, as you slowly eased down on his length to base, trembling and breathless.

"y-you're ... you're disgusting. fucking disgusting - i can't believe i'm seriously... letting you..." you stop him, irritation strewn across your face as you place your palm over the bottom half of his face. smothering him; making sure he smells your cock on your hands. you're so mean...

"not just letting me..." you hum, cheerfully. naked on top of him, perched on his cock with your own bobbing as you leaned back. you start playing with it - you're so weird.

you know his body so well, what he likes to see, it hurts so bad. he wants more - and he feels a vague sense of guilt. all those one night stands in his twenties... huh is this how they felt when he left them? begging for him... oh, the pain! "you're begging for me. you might not be saying anything, but i can hear you, loud and clear."

not to mention all those nights actually stalking him... laid up in the corner,,, in his closet as he masturbates while repeating your name over and over. watching over him, that's all. he just gets your blood pumping like no other... you couldnt stay away from him very long. always crawling back like he was your confession booth after doing something particularly thrilling.

his lips part, and you slap your hand over his mouth again to keep him from spouting attitude. smearing the sticky, already drying pre over his cheek; hushing him annoyed.

"psh, look at you. you let me undress you, you let me play with your gun, you- you're letting me fuck you. what does that say about you?" you retort, hands on his chest, using him as leverage as you bounce yourself. slow. "you're nasty. letting a dirty degenerate touch you like this? you fucking love it." you scowl, pinching the flesh of his pecs and grinding onto him. clean. "you love it a little too much..."

ㅡhe hisses, hands snapping to grasp your hips and pinch the flesh, jerking upwards, "fuck you. i - i don't love it. i don't. i don't love you." his voice breaking off into a muted whine, throwing his head back against his pillows. he was spouting nonsense. nonsense in order to defend himself from your rapid teasing, but you were making him stupid... just inhaling your natural scent messes with his head.

"... right... i don't love you either." you mutter, eyes narrowed as you hold onto him, squirming as you grope his chest. "do you make all these sounds when you're masturbating, too?" your tone switches, teasing as you lean over, licking his cheek.

you're just... using each other. that's right... for an adrenaline pick-me-up and to curb loneliness. you stay a little longer afterwards. he lays there, still beside you in his own bed. holding your hand when he's sure you're asleep. he could put you away for a long time, you know that? he's selfish. wants you for his own sake.

is this not how the race weekend went ? Part 19/???

Ex bf theo who was really toxic and was a bad bf but after the break up he matures and tries tonget you back?

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THEODORE NOTT HAD ALWAYS BEEN AN ENIGMA, a puzzle that you never quite managed to solve. during your relationship, his brooding silence and sharp wit had initially drawn you in, but over time, they became the very things that chipped away at your happiness. he was toxic — possessive, distant, and emotionally unavailable. the relationship became a series of ups and downs, with moments of passion followed by long stretches of cold indifference. you spent too much time trying to reach him, trying to make him care the way you did, but in the end, it was clear that he wasn't ready to be the person you needed him to be.

the breakup had been inevitable. it was messy and painful, filled with harsh words and lingering regrets. you walked away shattered but determined to heal, to rebuild yourself without the weight of his darkness pulling you down. months passed, and slowly but surely, you began to find your footing again. life moved on, and so did you — or at least, you tried to.

then, one day, theodore showed up in your life again.

it was the warmest day of early september. you were in diagon alley, browsing through the rows of books at flourish and blotts, when you felt that painfully familiar presence behind you. your heart skipped a beat, a mixture of dread and curiosity flooding your senses. you turned, and there he was, standing awkwardly near the entrance, his hands buried deep in his pockets.

theodore looked different. although he was still the tall, slender figure with the same piercing eyes that once made your heart race, something had changed. his posture was more relaxed, his expression softer. gone was the constant scowl that used to mar his handsome features, replaced now with what seemed like genuine vulnerability.

“hey,” he said, his voice lower than you remembered, almost hesitant.

you blinked slowly, caught off guard by his presence. “theo?”

he shifted on his feet, glancing around the shop before meeting your gaze again. the use of his nickname by you stirred up unforgettable memories inside him. “can we talk? in private,”

you nodded at his request hesitantly and followed the boy, now who seemed like a man. he hurt you badly, and there was no reason for him to talk to you ever again, so why was he seeking you now?

theo’s quiet voice broke the silence between the two of you as you stood in a smaller aisle of the shop. “i’ve been thinking about you — a lot,” he admitted. “there’s something i have to say to you or i’ll go mad.”

you didn’t respond right away, unsure of what to expect. theodore had never been one to easily admit fault, and seeing him now, looking almost remorseful, was jarring. part of you wanted to turn and walk away, to avoid reopening old wounds, but another part — the part that once loved him truly and deeply — wanted to hear what he had to say.

“i know now i was a terrible boyfriend,” he began, his eyes not leaving yours. “i treated you horribly, and i don’t deserve your forgiveness. but i’ve changed. i know it’s hard to believe, but i’ve spent a lot of time thinking about everything i did wrong, everything i took for granted.”

he paused, as if searching for the right words. “i’ve been working on myself, trying to understand why i was the way i was. i didn’t realize how much i needed to grow up until you were gone.”

his words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. you could hear the sincerity in his voice, see the regret in his eyes, but it wasn’t easy to let go of the past. too many memories of broken promises and hurtful words still lingered in your mind.

“theo, i . . .” you hesitated, unsure how to respond. “i’m glad you’ve been working on yourself, really, but i don’t know if i can just forget everything that happened. you hurt me, a lot.”

he nodded and his eyes found comfort on your hands. “i know. and i don’t expect you to just take me back. i just wanted you to know that i’m sorry for how i was. truly. and . . . if there’s ever a chance, even a small one, that we could try again . . . i would do everything differently. i would be better for you.”

theodore nott’s words were raw, unfiltered, and they hit you in a way you hadn’t expected. this wasn’t the theodore you had known — the one who hid behind sarcasm and anger. this was someone who had faced his demons and was trying, really trying, to be a better man. but could you trust him? could you risk your heart again after everything that had happened?

“i need time, theo,” you finally said, your voice soft but firm. “i can’t just jump back into something that hurt me so much.”

the slytherin nodded again, a small, sad smile playing on his lips. “i understand. i’ll wait as long as it takes. and if you never want to try again, i’ll respect that too. i just needed you to know that i’m sorry, and that i’m here if you ever want to give us another chance.”

with that, he turned to leave, but not before giving you one last, lingering look — a look filled with all the things he had never been able to say before.

Happy Halloween folks!

O kay okay okayaoakayasysayas Since Rowan isn't going to be a LI can we please get his POV reaction (deep crush stage) of MC going over to him to tell him that MC is in love with one of the other ROs? Pleasee I need the angst and I love Rowan and am sad we won't be able to romance him!!

I was listening to favorite crime and kind of went a bit overboard. Please excuse this lengthy and angsty-ish drabble. Aha.... 🤒 ill keep it short next time

The soft notes of Rowan's guitar--affectionally dubbed 'Betty'--rises above his head, filling the silence of his hotel room. He strums aimlessly, absently, his fingers having a mind of their own as they move, creating a random melody that's oddly soothing. Or maybe it's the very essence of his guitar--he always feels more grounded, centered, with Betty in his hands.

Rowan's gaze remains unfocused as he plays, his head tilted, legs crossed on the balcony that overlooks the sleepy streets of their latest tour stop. A soft, pleasantly warm wind curls around the messy strands of his hair, locks sweeping across his forehead like a caressing hand. As the melody takes hold, going from mindless practice to something that sounds like it can be the bones of a real song, he closes his eyes.

Rowan has never been a good singer, but you don't need to be a good singer to make people feel something. He's learned that from the best of them.

I wonder if MC would like this.

The thought of his best friend makes a low groan sound in his throat, and with a huff he pauses the recording of his phone. Suddenly Betty's romantic notes feel like a taunt, a blade to his heart with every reminder of what he and MC are not. They're not together. They're not anything more than friends.

They're not what he wants them to be.

He knows he shouldn't feel this way about them. They're friends. They've been friends since he still thought fart jokes were funny and he had no bass in his voice. That's all they've always been and all they will be: friends.

The word has never sounded so terrible.

Still. If only...

His phone buzzes with a text and he sets Betty down. That blade in his heart only twists when he sees who it's from.

Of course. Did my thinking manifest them? The thought induces both a laugh and a sharp hint of misery from him.

He reads the text: Open your door.

He turns his upper-body to face his door, bursting up once the realization flows through him. He glances at himself in the mirror on his way there, making sure his pajamas are at least semi-presentable. It's MC; they've seen him in worst states, but level of comfortability changes when you want someone to see you in ways they've never seen you before.

In other words, he needs to look good.

Rowan heaves a breath before swinging open the door, remembering to keep the easy smile on his face. MC still looks good even at twelve a.m. after an entire day on the road. It's almost unfair.

"Heyyyy." He grins, trying to appear light. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

MC rolls their eyes. "You're not busy, are you?" They lean over to peek behind Rowan's shoulder, their eyes settling on an abandoned Betty. "Working on something?"

"Nah." He scratches his neck, self-concious. "Just fooling around. What, you need to talk about something?"

MC pushes past Rowan's shoulder to breeze inside, throwing themselves on the bed with a huff. "Iris and Devyn are out and I need to talk to someone."

Rowan takes a seat next to them, snorting. "So I'm the third choice?Wow."

They prop themselves up on their elbows, strands of hair falling in front of their face. Rowan has the terrible urge to lean over and push them away. "You're not exactly the 'serious talk' kind of person."

"Serious talk?" He gapes. "Yes, I am! I'm capable of being serious, you know. I'm not an asshole."

With a laugh, MC rolls over on their stomach and groans into Rowan's pillow. Now his curiosity is officially piqued. What could have MC so...like this?

"What's up?" Rowan's following laugh is both nervous and amused. "Did something happen with Seven?" Seven and MC have been a bit...all over the place since the beginning of the tour. He hardly knows what to call it. "Or did Orion lecture you again?" Orion is another one. That man has been relentless since tour started.

MC shoots him a look before sitting up, copying Rowan's position. His eyes flicker down to where their knees touch, to the proximity that's gone from the size of the bed to none at all.

They've been close like this before. No, scratch that. They've been closer, but this is different. This is different because everything is different.

"You know you're my best friend, right?" MC says, putting their hands on Rowan's.

He clears his throat, the skin under theirs burning with their touch. "Yeah...?"

"And we can tell each other everything?"

"Yeah." He quirks a brow at them, trying to stifle their humor. "Are you dying? Please don't tell me you're dying. You haven't even gotten rich yet to leave me anything in your will."

MC laughs but it comes out a bit uncertain. High-pitched. Rowan knows them. The same way he knows Iris and Devyn. He knows all of them like the back of his hand. So it only takes him another second to realize it.

MC is nervous.

His heart does a weird somersault in his gut.

"I have a secrettttt," MC sing-songs. Even as a joke they still manage to sing with perfect pitch.

The four words are enough to shake his very world, but he manages an eye roll. "Fucking hell, we're not twelve. Just spit it out."

"Sorry." MC palms their face, a nervous laugh escaping them. God. This must be serious for MC to be nervous in front of him? Rowan has never really gave anyone the impression of a harsh judge. Hell, he's always been an open book. "I just...I'm in love with [RO]."

He wished he didn't rush them. He wished he didn't hear those words at all. He's half tempted to grab it from the air and shove it back into MC's mouth so they can pretend it never happened.

"What?" is all the fuzz in his brain can spit out.

MC throws their self back, a wildly breathless laugh escaping them. The sound is even better than Betty's notes. "WHEW. That felt good to say it. Is anyone hot in here? I know I am."

MC keeps babbling but all Rowan could hear is a white noise in his head. MC is in love with RO. MC is in love with them.

MC is in love with someone that's not him.

"I just needed to let that out." MC huffs, gazing around the room. "You should invite me next time you play. You know I like seeing you finger Betty."

Rowan can't even laugh at the dirty inside joke they've had between them since he bought Betty years ago. It suddenly makes him feel wholly small and largely ridiculous: Rowan will never be the person for MC. He will always be the goofy best friend that makes stupid, childish jokes about fingering his dumbass guitar and the one MC goes to when Devyn and Iris aren't available.

He's not even the second choice. He's the fucking fourth.

As if noticing the change in atmosphere, MC awkwardly purses their lips and says, "I should probably get back to my room and get some sleep. We have an early start tomorrow."

He blinks, managing a small nod. "Uh-huh." He runs a hand through his hair, feeling naked without his hat. "Right."

They stand and shoot Rowan a final look. "Thank you," they say after. a moment, "for being my friend."

He's really starting to hate that word.

But he smiles anyway. "Yeah. Ditto."

MC grins, spinning on the heel of their foot to leave the room. Rowan follows, waving lamely at them and watching as they disappear down the hall, whistling a merry tune. It's true; it does feel like a weight was lifted of their shoulders. They walk with a hop in their step. Rowan hates knowing it was RO that is responsible for that.

With a sigh he closes the door, leaning his forward against it. Spinning on his shoulder, he looks up at the ceiling.

"I need to get laid," he mumbles.

Though he has a feeling that won't do much to solve the problem in his heart.