#desperately hoping some fans of it are still out there

[climbthemountain2020]

Your Eyes Whisper Have We Met - Chapter 25

Ch. 25 | Ao3

Guys, we're getting so close to the end of this.

Thanks as always to the besties @popjunkie42 and @witch-and-her-witcher, without whom this fic would literally just not exist at all.

Slight TW for blood and violence.

Tamlin cried out around the gag, the blood rushing over the dagger and hot onto her hands as the point of it jammed into something hard. Relief flooded through her, nearly choking her with a strangled sob. 

Right. She’d been right.   

His eyes were filled with solace, a smile playing at the edges of his bound mouth, and she tried to breathe around the tears. His wound was already trying to heal as she removed the blade, letting it fall to the ground with a clatter. The hush in the crowd around her erupted into whispers. 

She’d done it. 

She could have sunk to the ground and cried for days with the relief of it. She’d done it, done the unthinkable, and now they’d all receive their freedom. She might not be immortal, but she could leave here and spend whatever time she had left in her life with Rhys. It was more than she could have hoped for only hours ago. 

But the mask didn’t fall off as she rushed to unbind Tamlin, his magic not enough still to take care of the ropes himself. Feyre turned back to the dais, Amarantha’s eyes burning holes into her. The crowd's whispers rose around her, shouts calling out she did it, free us, she won. It was fueling Amarantha’s rage, and the heavy armrest of the throne snapped clean in half beneath her fingers, crumbling to dust as she ground it in her clenched hand. 

When Amarantha spoke, the words were low and dark. No more of the teasing and taunting was left on her lips. She was done with her games. “I will do no such thing.” 

The shouts grew louder from the crowd. Angrier.

“She won!”

“She did all you asked of her!”

“She fulfilled your bargain!” 

Amarantha snapped her teeth, the last of her control slipping. “You’ll be free when I choose. Your date of freedom was not specified.” The fury roared through the crowd like a wave as her words traveled and sunk in. 

Feyre’s mind spun as she realized the truth. The time frame had only been specified in the event she solved the riddle. Amarantha had gotten her, slipped the phrasing past Calla, and herself, and Rhys, too. And now it didn’t matter if she’d won. 

Nothing mattered at all.

Feyre felt something inside of her crumbling.

“And you .” Her eyes were set on Feyre as she rose from her throne, the black tulle flaring out behind her like a cloak of death, her blood red hair fanning out and framing her like some horrid halo. “I’m going to kill you.” 

Feyre was dead. She knew she was dead. There would be nothing to stop Amarantha from killing her now, and the bargain hadn’t guaranteed Feyre’s safety specifically. She tried to stiffen her spine, imagine everything this female had done, every atrocious act that she’d committed, and inject the anger into her veins. 

“We had a deal , Amarantha!” She willed her voice to be bold, to not shake. She reached out frantically with her mind. 

Rhys, Rhys, Rhys. 

There was a stirring from his end, the magical barrier still coating her as she all but shouted that she loved him across the ether, pushing every feeling of love towards him and shoving at the confines of that wall with desperation. Amarantha crossed the room as though she was flying, the fury on her face marring anything that may have once deemed it pretty. 

“And you made it poorly.” She was in front of Feyre now, her clawed fingertips violently grabbing her jaw. “I’m going to kill you, but first I’m going to make you beg .” 

Feyre fought the yelp, fought the fear, her hands scrambling up to rip Amarantha’s fingers away, but she was too weak. 

“You humans and your stupid, inconsistent hearts. Lucien?” she demanded, her eyes never leaving Feyre’s. “Come!” Feyre couldn’t move her head, Amarantha’s grip so tight that her jaw burned and creaked beneath the pressure. She tried not to visualize her bones snapping, turning to dust under the strength of Amarantha’s delicately painted nails. She could see Lucien’s copper hair in her periphery, emerging from the crowd. 

She would not beat Amarantha in a battle of strength or magic. All she could do was mess with her mind, use the stubborn will and underhanded taunts that she’d been talked down from all her life to get under Amarantha’s skin, to hope she lost enough control that something could be done. To hope she could give herself a chance. If not herself, then maybe everyone else.

Her depthless eyes bored into Feyre’s as she squeezed her jaw tighter. “Now tell him you aren’t in love with him.” 

That, she could do. 

Feyre smiled, letting the grin split her face for once. Amarantha had the good sense to look taken aback at the emotion, confusion warring with the fury in her eyes. 

“Lucien, I am not in love with you.” 

As always, Lucien was on the same page. “Well thank the Cauldron for it. That would be terribly awkward.” Amarantha’s eyes flared wide, the rage firing off inside her irises at the realization she’d been tricked again. But Feyre could see behind her now, the guards having been overtaken quietly by the fae and High Lords around them. She could see a very specific High Lord of Night approaching steadily behind her with the ash dagger that Feyre had stabbed into Tamlin’s chest moments before. There was no one left holding him back. 

She could distract Amarantha, buy him time. They were a team, and she could do this with him one more time. 

“ What do you mean?” Amarantha hissed the words, punctuating each one violently as she held her face inches from Feyre’s. She needed to get under Amarantha’s skin, keep her focused. “You said you loved him!”

“I do love him, but there are many different types of love, Amarantha. Not that you would know what any of them feel like,” she spit back. Her jaw ached from the pressure, her muscles burned with the strain.  

“Then why are you here ?” Feyre could tell that the lack of understanding was sending Amarantha spiraling, the deception she’d fallen for throwing her entirely off.

“I didn’t come for Lucien.” Rhys was right behind Amarantha now, the dagger ready to thrust into her neck. Feyre smiled. “I’m here for Rhysand.” 

In a split second, there was a flurry of activity. Rhys struck. Paint flooded through Feyre’s legs as her knees hit the marble floor. When she looked up, Amarantha held the knife in her hands, no blood to be seen. Nothing but rage on her face. That rage wasn’t directed at Feyre now, but at Rhysand. Amarantha tossed the blade aside as though it were nothing and moved towards Rhys. 

Then, Feyre’s chest collapsed. 

In a breath, it felt as though all her ribs had cracked inward, the pressure so deep and profound that she wondered if she were having a heart attack. It felt like someone had spun an iron thread around her heart and pulled with all their strength. She gasped for air, eyes wide as she felt it wind through her ribs and shoot off, anchoring to something and twining tightly. She raised her eyes in the split second she felt it, and she knew. 

Looking into violet eyes, everything snapped into place. Including the mating bond between her and Rhys. 

Rhys was her mate.

The golden light shone blindingly inside of her, barreling down that bridge between them– the one that had always been there, warm and open and welcoming. He had always been there for her, from the moment they met, waiting patiently, sacrificing, wanting her to choose of her own accord.

And she had.

“I KNEW there was something more between the two of you. You LIED to me!” Amarantha was moving, screaming, stalking towards Rhys as he backed away. The blood drained from his face, but he was already reconstructing that careful mask. Feyre had never seen Amarantha so ruffled, so frantic, the energy around her buzzing with the loss of control, the mania. Her control was slipping, was gone, and the sounds of the crowd around them were fueling it. 

Through it all, Rhys managed to throw out a cocky smile. “You just weren’t doing it for me, Amarantha.” 

It broke something within the queen, and she reached out with her hand around his throat. Feyre saw red before she knew what was happening. All those times that she’d felt possessive, intense rage clouding her judgment where Rhys was concerned, all making sense now. The vermilion claws dug into his skin, right over his jugular, and Feyre felt the word no screaming from her lips as she imagined Amarantha ripping out his throat. 

The other High Lords moved in to help, some fae even joining them, starting forward as if they’d all overthrow Amarantha with their bare hands. But with barely any effort at all, the queen of wrath threw her hand aside, tossing them all back through the air and into the crowd as though they were nothing. 

Feyre could see blood pooling in the hollow of Rhys’s throat as he refused to back down from Amarantha. Feyre found Helion in the chaos of the crowd, the bodies moving around him as some fled and others stayed rooted to their spots, watching the madness unfold. She needed to be able to communicate with Rhys, needed that link between them before she moved, needed the full strength of her own powers if she was going to stand a chance. Helion had told her that he could break the bargain. He could unwind wards. Could he free her from the bindings Amarantha had put on her, too? She desperately looked to Helion. Strained against Amarantha’s sticky barrier. But Helion looked as though he understood.

She looked to Amarantha and Rhys. Her time was running out.

The rage swirled in her chest at the sight of her hands on him, the desire to maim, to kill, clouding her vision and good sense. She would see this female dead, or she would die trying. She felt when the barrier lifted, the magic around her singing to life and the bond blasting proud and strong down that golden bridge between her and Rhys. She saw his hard intake of breath as the pathway between them cleared, startling both him and Amarantha. 

“Mate.” Rhys had whispered it reverently, a gift.

The word sent Amarantha’s shocked eyes back onto his face, disbelief etched into her expression at the admittance.

In the split second of distraction, Rhys’s protective instincts flared too, the snarl on his face enough to terrify anyone else. He understood then that the bond had snapped for Feyre, too, and that root of possession and his mate in danger overrode all else.

Push her.

She let the fire course through her veins and, without another thought, she was moving. Winnowing. She found herself winnowed once, closer, then again before she knew it, barreling straight for the female with her hand around the throat of Feyre’s mate. 

Feyre. 

The word was ragged and breathless even in her mind, filled with awe as the full impact of the bond settled into place between them.

But he did as she asked, shoving Amarantha and knocking her enough off balance that Feyre plowed into her at full force, the timing synchronized perfectly. Feyre was on her, the blue fire running down her arms in flares as she ripped Amarantha backwards to the ground. The air was filled with the sound of Amarantha’s shrieking as Feyre pressed her burning hands onto her face and neck. She’d heard her scream in anger, in twisted joy, in rage– but this scream of pain and horror set Feyre’s soul alight. The sound of it was like the tolling of church bells in her ears, Amarantha’s pain her religion. Amarantha’s skin melted beneath the white-hot blue of her fingers, and Feyre smiled. 

“You’re never going to put your hands on him again.” It was a proclamation that she wasn’t sure anyone even heard as Amarantha’s wails and shrieks filled the room all the way to the cavernous ceiling. 

“Rhysand!” Feyre could hear Lucien’s yell, and saw him toss the dagger that Amarantha had cast aside. The moment of distraction was all it took for Amarantha to get the upper hand, a concentrated sweep of her arm sending Feyre flying. She fell back, her skull striking the floor hard enough to send stars spiraling behind her eyelids. She could hear someone screaming her name as she rolled to the side. 

Before she could rise again, her body was filled with insurmountable pain. It was worse than the whippings, worse than anything she’d ever felt. It blinded her, pulling breath from her lungs without her permission, against her will. 

“Oh, now I’m going to enjoy this. And for everything else you’ve done, I’m going to take great joy in killing the rest of them, too.” Feyre looked up into Amarantha’s eyes, her melted skin trying desperately and failing to heal. Her face was warped, mottled, and she finally looked more like the monster she truly was. 

Feyre screamed as her arms twisted, the joints popping. She could hear Rhys, her name panicked on his tongue as she writhed, fought the darkness curling in at the edges of her vision. “Amarantha, kill me instead. Please. Let her go and take me.” His voice was demanding, yet pleading.

“I’ll be dealing with you in a very special way, Rhysand. Just wait your turn.” Amarantha threw an arm out, slamming Rhys back and into one of the hard walls of the room. Feyre heard his grunt of pain, zeroed in on that instinct to kill on his behalf. Even through the all-encompassing pain, Feyre felt rage. 

Hers. He was hers. And this monster had touched him.

She could hear screaming as she fought, loud and insistent in her own ears as she thrashed and Amarantha struggled to hold her down. Feyre recognized the voice screaming as her own. The pain overwhelmed all else as it tore through her legs, immobilizing her and rendering her almost entirely unable to fight, her screams turning to tortured wails she couldn’t even begin to bite back. She began to black out, but again and again Amarantha brought her back, making sure she felt everything. She wanted to scream, to cry, to vomit, to give up. 

I love you. I love you. I’m sorry.  

“And you.” She leaned down, her mouth in Feyre’s ear. “I’m going to enjoy watching you die, just like I enjoyed watching your little friend fall apart.” Feyre groaned and pulled, still trying to fight to get away, but Amarantha slammed her head back against the marble, holding fast as Feyre bit back another cry of pain. “I sent the guards to her cell. I placed them in the halls, let her overhear them talk about you, the darling of the court. It was comical how quickly it broke her. ‘Oh, yes, Feyre is taking to court perfectly. She looks just like she always belonged here. A pity she was tied to that pathetic human before’. Between that and the screaming and crying and slamming doors in the dungeon, it’s no wonder that she couldn’t sleep. It’s a shame what that can do to a person.” Feyre cried out as Amarantha’s nails dug deep, drawing blood from her skin effortlessly. She was at her mercy, at her will.

She didn’t want to die. 

I love you. 

The words were for Rhys, whether he could hear them or not. Her mind felt like it was breaking, falling apart, the tether holding her together no match for the pain Amarantha was doling on upon her body and soul.

“When I'm done making you watch your mate die, then I've got plans for you, Rhysand," Amarantha called over the crowd. 

Feyre stopped struggling.

Mate.

Her mate.

She should have known.

Stronger together…

Equal in measure, but stronger together…

Gods…

“Mates.” She heard the word grit through her clenched teeth as she fought through the haze of pain dragging her under. The cracking of another bone sent a yelp shooting from her as it hit open air and became a sob. She gagged. 

“What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you, dear.” 

She cried out as more bones snapped, the pain so sharp, so much. 

But she fought in the last way she could. “The answer to the riddle. A mating bond. It’s a mating bond.” She cracked open her eyes as the world went quiet around her.

The last thing she saw was Amarantha's snarl before she heard the snapping of her own neck. 

+++

Feyre was floating, but it wasn’t in the lake, and it wasn’t like before. Nothing was tethering her, below water or otherwise. She just…was. Her presence hovered, but she was aware of it, the place where her feet were supposed to be not quite touching anything. 

She knew she had died, had felt the soul leaving her body. 

She was vaguely aware that she was standing on a bridge of gold. She could feel him then, all around her– his scent, his smile, his eyes. 

Rhysand .

And then she was seeing herself, her broken, bloodied body on the red marbled floor of the court. It was strange watching herself be dead, like she was seeing someone else entirely, so disconnected from it all. She had answered the riddle, and Amarantha had killed her, snapping her neck like a branch in a storm. Her fragile mortal life, gone instantly, and yet, the soul remained. Had this been the catch in the bargain? Her body would die, but if Rhys loved her, her soul would live on forever? What sort of hell might that be, to watch him live and grieve and perhaps move on while she remained?

She could barely recognize herself there on the floor, skin fully covered in scratches and gouges and blood, bones jutting at strange angles. And yet she felt no pain. 

Her glamours had been dropped, the tattoo visible beneath the remaining shreds of her tunic and the ring shining on her left hand, pointing up towards the ceiling in plain view.

Then she was moving, or at least, some part of her was. The eyes she saw through averted, her pace quickening, though the sounds were muffled, strange.

A garbled screaming caught her attention. 

She was walking steadily towards Amarantha, a now maskless Tamlin and Lucien holding the once-queen against the stone walls of the room, her ruined face contorted in rage and something that looked remarkably like fear as Tamlin’s taloned hand wrapped around her throat. 

“Wait! No WAIT!” The words were strangled, choked as they emerged. She could barely breathe around Tamlin’s fist, the clenched fingers showing no mercy as her face reddened.  

“No more waiting.” It was Rhys’s voice, echoing in her ears, in her mind, in the spaces around her. He was in front of Amarantha now, and there was nothing left but terror in her eyes. 

Tamlin spoke first. “Do the honors.” He ripped her head back by the hair, exposing her neck to Rhys. She moved to speak again, and Feyre watched through familiar eyes as Rhys ripped out her throat in a single motion, Amarantha’s beady eyes going entirely lifeless in front of them.

It was more satisfying than Feyre could admit, and if she pushed, she could feel the satisfaction of the blood on her hands. Rhys’s hands. Their hands.

Just like that it was over, the crowd slowly coming back to life as masks dropped and powers returned. Some fled, but Feyre couldn't see the crowd anymore. She couldn’t see Amarantha’s lifeless corpse. All she could see was her own broken body back in her sight, closer and closer until it was cradled in what she imagined was Rhysand’s arms. Her magic was blurred, exhausted, almost gone, and she could feel herself fading away.

She couldn't feel his arms around her, couldn't feel any of it anymore.

She ached to feel his warmth, to know physically the soothing calm that came with his embrace. Instead, she felt the love seeping through her, surrounding her, pulsing with his adoration, his panic, his fear…his grief. 

Her body was mangled nearly beyond recognition, skin pale in the small sections visible beneath all the blood. She found it strange that she wasn’t more upset by it, couldn’t feel anything, really, except Rhys’s own emotions and a sense of strange, distant longing. She ached for him, for the future that she hadn’t even had a chance to mourn. She could see his hands, hands she knew so well she could practically feel their caress, smoothing over her matted, bloodstained hair. 

“Feyre…” His voice cracked as he said her name. “Feyre, please.” He moaned the words, his voice begging her to not be gone. All she could do was watch.

I love you.

She sent the words out with everything she had, but there was nothing. She couldn’t feel him the way she had before, just her words echoing quietly in her own thoughts.  

She could see where his teardrops hit the blood, washing tiny rivulets down her neck and into the hollow of her throat as he cried. His eyes were trained on her, but she could feel the stares and the quiet observance of the people in the crowd. She heard as Lucien whispered a disbelieving no, could feel as Tamlin came to sit at her other side. 

“Feyre, come back to me. Gods, please come back to me.” He was sobbing, uncaring of the crowd around them.

“Rhys, she’s gone.” 

“No!” Feyre felt the distant touch of a warm hand on a shoulder that was not wholly her own, felt as Rhys ripped himself away from it to cradle her closer. “No. I can’t– she can’t. Feyre… ” It was a whisper, a plea. “Please don’t go…I’ll do anything. Anything.” The pain in his begging nearly split her in two. 

I want to stay.  

Her declaration fell on deaf ears. 

I’m not done loving you.

She thought back to the beginning, Vilja’s laugh echoing in her ears as she goaded Feyre. 

“I will ask again, what would you be willing to sacrifice for the chance to love him? What would you risk? What would you give?”

“Anything.” 

What would she risk?

Everything. 

“Come back, Feyre. Come back.” The words were a sob in the open air. Feyre could hear people around them crying, but all her focus was on Rhysand, on the prone figure of herself, looking unrecognizable to her even now. She didn’t think it was just the wounds or the blood. The body on the floor seemed like someone entirely unfamiliar. “Please. I love you, Feyre. I love you.” 

All the air sucked out of her lungs, the gasping audible even in her own ears. Had she been breathing before? The sudden vacuum of her chest felt so abrupt and violent. What had felt so distant and far suddenly became too-bright, filled with a blinding clarity. The bridge beneath her feet began to glow, through the eyes that beheld her she began to glow. Her damaged body encased in light started to mend. Little by little she felt it, each bone hewn back into place, the skin knitting itself back together. The stagnant blood rushed back into her veins, the magic swimming within her welcoming it home with a happy little rush. She beheld Tamlin drawing back, Lucien pressing in closer to him, and Rhys watching, awestruck, as the last bits of humanity left Feyre’s body, and her heart began to beat again. 

The next time she opened her eyes, she was staring up at the dark ceiling of the court, Rhys’s head buried in her neck, his shoulders wracked with sobs as he held her. 

“You’re alive. Feyre, you’re alive.” She placed a hand on his back, gripping his tunic in her fingers. She wasn’t sure if the words were meant more to comfort him or her.

“I love you, too.” She’d expected her voice to be hoarse, mangled from the screaming, but it flowed like honey. Her own voice, and yet different, fluid, a melody of sorts. 

He had done it, the missing piece that Feyre had not understood before. It had to be more than just love for the bargain to fulfill. Rhys had to drop the mask he wore, had to love someone openly and completely for all to see. Had to show everyone that it was a cause he was willing to die for, trade his own life for. 

And they had seen. 

Feyre looked out across the room, the eyes of the fae who remained fixed entirely on them. Many were crying, others bowed their heads in reverence. And when Rhys raised his head to look at her, violet eyes rimmed red with tears, she kissed him with everything she had as the whispers coursed across the crowd like a wave. 

Cursebreaker.

Taglist: Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!

@cauldronblssd @buttercupcookies-blog @witch-and-her-witcher @yeonalie

[gilly-moon]

Please tell me someone else remembers the absolutely stunning BL manga that is Adekan. Like??? The detailing and coloring of these illustrations were mind blowing to me as a budding artist:

Plus the absolutely ridiculous heels and sensual arch in the back of every last prettyboy in the cast:

The manga itself was also insanely impressive with all its finely-detailed linework and I remember the premise being REALLY intriguing.

Umbrella salesman/ex-assassin who teams up with the local officer occasionally to help solve the strange crimes of their town? Plus even more deep lore I'm totally forgetting about??? I spent years obsessed with this series and idk if it ever finished but it came to me in my formative years as an artist and left a permenant mark on my soul.

EDIT: The manga is still ongoing!!!!! Which means it's time for a reread ♡

[thestarscollective]

Cw for military and government stuff, raising voice and yelling. ⛓️

Im so tired of the same people hurting me and mine again and again. I dont care about your opinions on war. The country made a promise and we deserve care

[wyniepooh]

Loving him was never enough

you don’t have what logan needs, but he still takes all that he can.

Cage fighter!logan x reader. Mentions of violence. Porn with a little bit of plot. mdni; 18+

thinking about being logan’s plaything in his cage fighting days.

It’s not uncommon for the fighters to have a beautiful girl around their arms as they enter the ring, and though Logan usually resists against the fan girls who clamour around him in a frenzy, he figures a sweet thing like you could only do him some good.

Not only does it piss the other fighters off, (they hate to see the king of the cage also have a pretty girl like you beside him) turns out, you’re not half bad for company either.

You’re an anxious little thing, brows furrowed and eyes teary before every match. Logan doesn’t bother telling you that he’ll be fine, that he’s going to win guaranteed, that his punch is as hard as metal. Literally.

He hates to admit it, but he finds it endearing, the way you’re so worried for him. through his nonchalant front, he still wipes away your tears with his large hands before every match and reassures you, cooing, “I’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

When logan gets in the ring, the fight goes exactly as he expects it to go. The other guy is destroyed before logan even shows his true strength. In a spiteful and humiliating position, the fallen guy comments something like, “I’ll fuck your pretty girlfriend dumb.”

Logan hears, of course, and though the guy is already bleeding and sprawled over the mat on the ground in a pathetic display, and though logan definitely didn’t consider you his girlfriend, he throws the announcer to the side and pounces. Through gritted teeth and a bleeding forehead, he catches your eye, shaking his head lightly before knocking the other guy out.

You wait for him in the small public washroom afterwords, arms crossed and pouting. As Logan approaches the door and sees your stiff pacing around the room, he knows you’re mad. And he knows it won’t stay that way.

“‘was so worried, logan,” you practically run towards him, “why’d you have to go after him like that? he could’ve really hurt you.”

He scoffs and flashes you the fresh wad of cash. “Hurt me? Please.”

He stays still for as long as he can bear while you dab at the wound on his head with your sleeve, silently hoping you wouldn’t notice the red cut slowly healing by itself. When you try to touch his face, to run a finger down his cheek and his stubble, he grabs your wrist harshly to stop you.

You’re confused, confused as to why he allows you to trail along to his every fight and wipes your tears with such a gentle hand, but refuses to let you in. He doesn’t give you much time to think, though, because as soon as you part your lips to speak, he’s picking you up from under your arms and sitting you down on the cold sink counter.

there’s an aggressive desperation behind his kiss, probably produced by the adrenaline of the recent fight and triggered by the soft whine he heard from you when his teeth knocked against yours. His hand reaches down between your legs and drags your panties to the side, and before long, you’re biting his shoulder and mumbling, “‘gonna cum, logan, please, let me cum.”

He does, drawing out your short orgasm with a few more pumps of his fingers and a graze over your clit. When he’s done, you’re practically already numb, head limp on his shoulder as you hear the metal clinking of his belt.

“You want this?” He asks, holding your head up by your chin as he tilts his head and raises his brows. “You want me?”

You nod feverishly, half-lidded eyes flickering as you breathe, “yes, logan. need you.” Your head falls back against the mirror, and he looks down with a grin at the sight in front of him.

he hooks his arms around your knees to bring you closer before you take him to the hilt in one go, burying a mewl into his shoulder as you wrap your legs around his waist. The first thrust burns, always does, but only he can make you forget the pain in an instant. Soon, your hands are tangled in his hair, his beard is rubbing against your neck, and you’re begging, “please, lo, need it so bad. “ Logan fucks exactly like how he fights, thrusting into you so sharply your ass is sliding back on the metal counter with each movement of his hips.

He’s done this enough times to know what makes you whine and dig your fingernails into his back, but he still demands, every time, “that feel good, baby? you like that?” Of course, you don’t have to answer for him to know that it does, that it does feel good, so incredibly good, and that he’s hitting all the right spots in the body only he knows so well.

You aren’t the only one filling the room with lewd noises. Logan is panting too, the echoes of his each and every grunt reflecting off of every corner in the room and into your ear. It only makes your cheeks flush hotter, only encourages your hips to move more eagerly to match his pace.

It’s always when he’s just about there that Logan pulls back and looks down at where the two of you are connected, slowing down his strokes to slowly watch his bulging cock sink deep into your slopping cunt.

It’s the only opportunity with logan that you get to really look at him, to see the raw expression of euphoria on his face, teeth bared and mouth open. Some strands of previously gelled hair are stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his eyes rolling back with each press of his pelvis. Your eyes trace the sweat on his shoulder, the hair on his chest peaking from behind his white wife-beater, and the vein on his stomach that connects to the one on his dick.

You gaze flickers back at his face, and you extend a hand to guide his head towards you. He tries to turn away, as usual, and you hate that you know he’s holding back; limiting the noises he’s making, the pace he’s taking.

“Just use me, Logan. I know you want to,” you plead against his lips, inhaling a gasp as you press your lips onto his. You expect him to pull away, to push your head to the side and focus on finishing the other task at hand, but this time, he only pulls you closer, one hand around your waist and the other on the back of your head. He doesn’t give you much time to be shocked before he resumes his previous pace, drilling into you with the same vigor, albeit a bit more sloppy than before.

Logan pulls back to catch his breath, and at the same time, you clench tightly around him. A low groan escapes him, a noise so animalistic and fervent that you reach your high right then and there, shrieking as your legs begin to shake.

He’s close too, you can feel it in his breathing, so you let him fuck you beyond your orgasm, even if it’s getting to be too much and you’re losing your thoughts by the second.

“nobody— ah— fucks my girlfriend,” he suddenly growls, lifting you up from under your arms and shoving you against the tiled wall. He squeezes your cheeks, forcing you to look into his hazel gaze as he spits, “n-nobody fucks you like I do.”

He plummets into you deep, leaning his lips in and making you swallow one last groan of his before you feel his warm release fill your insides.

When he’s done, Logan is supporting all your weight, your limp arms splayed around his sweaty back. You whimper at the emptiness as he pulls out, feeling his cum languidly drip down your inner thighs.

You’re too exhausted to realize what he just said, to react to what he just referred to you as, and as the fog of pleasure slowly unclouds Logan’s head, he’s glad he fucked you stupid enough to forget.

-

a/n: anyone else feel like they’re incapable of writing good smut? Hey Google how many other synonyms could there possibly be of the word ‘thrust’?

[shotmrmiller]

kinktober: cockwarming (john price x reader x simon in underground fighter au)

You're no fan of real-time violence.

Movies can never replicate its visceral reality— the sharp metallic tang that clings to the air, mingled with salt and the bitter stench of the swill these local colors call beer. Even worse is having to be the one to patch Simon up with trembling, blood-slick fingers and your molars sunk into the thick of your tongue to keep your lunch where it belongs.

So when Simon sends you Price's way with a firm palm on your arse and his spit still warm on your lips, you're grateful. He'll keep ya busy.

You're not counting his blood money, if that's what he was thinking.

"Course not, love," Price says, the rings on his thick fingers glinting under the dim light overhead as he opens the door to his office. It smells of worn leather, polished wood, and layered on top is the heady aroma of tobacco, rich, unmistakable. (You will not stay if he lights one of those puppies up. You like your lungs how they are.)

"Tha's wha' the bill counter is for." You can feel the warmth of his palm seeping through your clothes— a steady presence at the base of your spine, guiding you forward with a subtle push.

You'd expected him to let you pluck a book off the well-stocked shelf that's been beckoning you since you laid eyes on it and curl up on his couch with a blanket draped over your shoulders. Maybe even chat you up with small talk, ask about your week, school/job, and how you were adjusting to this new life.

Not with his broad front curling around your back, breath warming the shell of your ear, while you stare at the smooth, raised skin on his knuckles— which is less furry than the rest of him— in hopes that you don't fall apart around the thick of his cock. He's got a hand flat on the desk, small finger slanting to the side probably from where it healed wrong, and the other's signing off paperwork you couldn't even try to understand with a clear mind, much less one that's spinning from the sheer want for friction, relief.

Your arse pulses hot from where he'd reprimanded you earlier for squirming too much.

"Quite obedient. Simon's taught ya well." He hisses when you tighten up involuntarily, indignation cutting through the sluggish heat you've been burning in at his remark. Obedient. Taught. As if you're some kind of lap dog, yipping and rolling over for a treat. (Or in this case, a cock.)

"Easy, love. Jus' a joke." The hand he'd had on the desk comes to squeeze at the meat of your ribs, a small gesture, before weaving down to your cunt, fingers spreading, feeling how well split you are around his length, lips spread wide. "I'd hate f'you to turn my own guard dog against me, eh?" His apology comes in jerky little circles, smearing slick over your neglected clit, coarse hair of your mons coated milky white.

Each stroke of his fingers only bows your spine, winding it like one would a key on the back of a doll, your muscles coiling with tension, bodily response not your own after being denied release for god knows how long.

The sharp tap on the door goes completely unnoticed by you, but not Price. His pace remains steady, continuous, as Simon walks in through the door with crimson peppered on his cream wifebeater.

"John." Through bleary eyes, you see Simon settle in the chair across from you both, legs long, knuckles angry red and swollen as he palms himself over his denim. "Gaz may or may not 'ave goaded Soap into a fight."

Price's hand stops abruptly, desperation clogging your throat, the coil beneath your navel cranked so tight you might just scream. His voice rattles you from behind. "And?"

Simon's got his jeans bunched to his knees now, cock resting heavy atop his thighs, quads' ridges shifting as he gets comfortable. He might just be a tad bigger than what you've got sitting snugly against the plug of your womb.

"They're tumblin' outside, among civil folk. I doubt gettin' 'em out will be as painless this time 'round."

Price snarls and you find yourself empty, straddling Simon's hips, your inner thighs burning at the width. "Bloody fuckin'—," the sound of his belt buckle peters off soon after he walks out the door.

Your hands can feel Simon's shoulders flexing as he runs a fist up his length, eyes heavy lidded and focused on the creamy slick dampening your curls. His cock sits long on your stomach.

"'ave a seat, then." Amusement curls his lip, usual pink scar on his lip stretched silver. Your knees don't reach the cushion he's on properly, so you place your feet right above his own for leverage, legs folded tight.

His fingers dimple your waist as you lower yourself onto him, breath rushing out of your lungs as he fills you, aching, burning, a stretch you'll never really get used to, the pinch deep in your core causing discomfort to clump your lashes together until you're flush against him.

"Sit real pretty now. Gotta wait f'r Price t'give me my earnin's."

You're gonna rip his ear off with your teeth if you don't get to come soon.

"Claws in," he mutters, thumbing your pebbled nipple through your shirt. "Won't be too long."

(It was too long but worth every bloody second in the end.)

[ozzgin]

Omg bro yk whats been on my mind for do long?? A demon king trying to court a hero reader. Like the hero has already fought and defeated the king but somehow he comes back and he's desperately trying to get the hero to join him (in more ways than one). He wants the reader to be his spouse and leader of his army against the corrupt human race and the reader (now fallen from stardom due to the evil kings defeat) just wants him gone and to be left alone. Idk if this makes sense but I need to see SOMEONE write abt it before I lose my last marble.

-Doll

This is giving me Dragon Quest vibes, haha. Not a trope I'm too familiar with, but it sounds interesting nonetheless. I shall do my best! Sorry for the delay, I hope it's close to what you imagined. :)

Yandere! Demon King x Hero! Reader

As it goes with villains, they always find a way to return. This time, the Demon King has a different plan in mind. You were prepared for anything, from evil schemes to ancient conjured weapons...except for a wedding ring cordially placed before you. Do you say yes?

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, 🔥proposal (literally)

[Part 2]

You still remember everything so fondly. How you crawled out of that enormous crater, body battered and weak, as everyone watched in horror and held their breaths. Finally, you raised your fist victoriously. The Demon King had been, at last, defeated. The people cheered and cried and pulled you up under thundering waves of applause. Peace was no longer just a dream.

A sweet, innocent memory, even more so given its fleeting nature. The genuine smiles of gratitude quickly turned into crooked grins asking for favors. Before you knew it, you became some sort of political accessory to convince the masses. Posing for photos, shaking hands, being interviewed with bizarrely planned questions reeking of propaganda. You suddenly felt burdened, heavy, disappointed. This was not the kind of fame you envisioned for yourself.

Thus, you gradually vanished from the limelight, keeping your distance from everyone else and spending most days in solitude. Better than having to look into those unscrupulous, opportunistic eyes measuring up your worth. You had fulfilled your job and purpose.

This morning you're woken up by the sound of your belongings rattling in their shelves. The wooden frame of your bed is creaking, and you struggle to get up. An earthquake? A wave of nausea flushes over you. You recognize this feeling all too well, though you never expected to deal with it again. This is a disaster alright, yet the forces of nature have nothing to do with it.

You rush outside, swinging the door open and nearly tripping in your hurry to confirm your suspicions: the demonic creature is approaching your humble adobe with heavy steps, as the ground crumbles and shatters underneath. The Demon King himself, in flesh and blood. Although the blood splattering his armor is most likely not his. Same for the visceral remains threading his weapon. Regardless, your jaw tightens nervously, and you stand back, in a defensive pose. "You're a stubborn one", you say smugly, trying to maintain your composure. "Can't say I'm a fan of dying, that is correct." A ragged, monstrous voice erupts from the tall, armored figure.

"What brings you back?" You demand. The surroundings are too peaceful for him to have tampered with the city. Did he stop by to formally announce his destruction? "I have an offer that might interest you." The Dark Overlord has closed the distance between you, now looming above your much smaller body. You shiver. "I don't barter with Demons!" You conclude, turning around, prepared to leave. "Even when your precious people are on the line?" The horned beast warns with a grin. "If there's nothing better to do as a Ruler of Realms than killing petty humans..." You swiftly retort, going back into your house and slamming the door shut.

He stands for a moment, speechless. "Y-your Majesty? Should I take care of the humans, or (Y/N)?" Only now he notices his scaly butler, bowing to his side with claws resting over the weapon. The Demon King raises a hand, shooing the servant away. The annihilation of the human race can wait. There are more important matters to deal with presently. He'd expected your rejection, naturally, but not in such fashion. The indifference, the flat voice, the empty eyes devoid of emotion. Have the city dwellers tampered with his hero? He expected to see your fierce rage and in return he was met with a hollow shell.

Bright blue flames erupt from the openings of his armor, resulting in a menacing show of lights. He's known it for the longest time, of course. Humans are rotten to their very core. Vile, deceitful creatures that have slithered their way up, exuding undeserved arrogance. He's been trying to show you this very fact, yet you were blinded by naive faith. Your unwavering, honest heart that won him over has turned out to be your early demise. Not anymore. His vengefulness knows no bounds when it comes to traitors.

The sudden spike in temperature alerts you. Was it your rudeness that angered the Demon? You don't care anymore. Whatever happens to the city is out of your hands. And yet...you're buckling the straps of your old suit made for battle. Sword in hand, you gaze at your reflection. What could the Beast want? The fortified city no longer holds the value of its olden days. Just like you've left your hero days behind. Without much contemplation, you run out and head for the main gates. The path is paved with ash and rubble and your grip on the weapon tightens. Regret immediately wells up in your chest, ready to burst out. Is it too late? The entrance is engulfed in fire, charred corpses toppling against the ruins of the walls.

You reach the town hall - or rather, what remains of it - and face the Demon King. Has he gotten stronger since your last encounter? You hold your breath as the horned monster turns towards you. "I've tried to tell you, again and again. Time after time." He sighs, defeated. "Between the two of us, I'd say you were the stubborn one all along." His voice is softer than what you would've expected from someone that had just massacred an entire settlement. There's not a single scratch or sign of struggle. Was he merely holding back during your last fight? One thing is certain: you're his final obstacle. You raise your sword, determined. Hot sweat trickles down your face as the flames surround you. "Well, at least you've convinced yourself now, I hope. There's nothing left for you here." The Demon King lowers himself, extending a fist towards you. A spell? Secret weapon? Your leg muscles contract in anticipation.

His fingers open and stretch out, slowly. In his palm, a barely noticeable ring. Given the ridiculous size difference, you assume this is better fitting for a human. You stare at it in confusion, discerning the wedding vows carved in the noble metal. "What's the meaning of this?" You mutter, glancing at the Beast now resting on one knee before you. "What? Is it not your human custom?" He looks away for a moment, clicking his tongue. "That useless butler. He told me- Forget it! You are to return with me to my Kingdom. As my spouse."

Of all the things you've prepared yourself for...Your brows furrow and your mouth hangs open in shock.

What is your answer? The Demon King will not leave empty-handed.

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: Read Between the Lines

Request: anonymous said: "I was wondering maybeeee if you could write some protective bf Tyler ( because i would be swooning ) maybe either someone keeps hitting on her so he steps in or someone maybe in another storm chasing crew is being mean so he steps in and defends her <3 idk"

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: language, mild fighting i guess?? slight angst

A/N: sorry I haven't been posting as frequently! I started work up again and ya girl has been BUSY. Anyyywayyy, thank you for reading! please keep the comments coming! I love to see all your requests and I promise i'm getting to them as quickly as i can :)

“Need anything?” Tyler asked, leaning against the hood of the truck in a way that shouldn’t be as adorable as it is. 

“I’m good,” you said, offering him a gentle smile before brushing a few loose strands of hair from your sticky forehead. 

“You wanna come in with me then?” 

You shook your head– the idea of sitting in a stale diner with no AC was just about as unbearable as the thought of driving another second. “No, I think I’ll stretch my legs out here.”

“Okay,” he said in a tone that indicated you’d be missing out. He gave the truck a pat before adding, “We won’t be long.”

“Take your time,” you assured him. 

He offered one final nod before turning and following Dani, Boone, and Lily across the parking lot. Dexter also stayed behind. Instead of shitty diner food, he’s opted to take a nap inside the RV accompanied by his noise canceling headphones and a fan blasting right at his face. 

You were exhausted, down to your bones. You and the rest of the team had driven nearly six hours that day tracking a cell that hadn’t ended up amounting to anything. You were stiff and tired and irritable– just like everyone else. But you hoped that some time alone outside might help at least level out your mood.

You extended your arms over your head, groaning when you felt something lightly pop in your back, before craning your neck from side to side. The air was stifling– thick and humid with little to no breeze for any sort of relief. The heat hadn’t broken in nearly a week, and unfortunately for just about everyone, the truck’s AC didn’t work as well as it used to. 

The parking lot to the diner was relatively empty. Aside from the crew’s RV and truck, there was an SUV parked in one of the front spots and a small sports car with a steady cloud of smoke pouring out the cracked window.  

You let your eyes wander past the diner parking lot at the sprawling field across the road. The windmills were agonizingly still in the stale air– like even they were desperate for some reprieve. 

Your eyes fell shut as you took a few deep breaths, trying to get your bearings. 

Your peace lasted for about thirty seconds. And then the sound of blaring music and screeching tires had you turning your pulsing head. Instantly, you rolled your eyes at the sight of the familiar vans pulling into the lot beside you. 

Merrill Anderson and his crew started chasing in the area almost thirteen months ago. You knew because each and every moment that you’d known about their existence had been more painful than the last. 

Anderson was a meteorologist out of Texas that wore a cowboy hat almost as big as his mouth and an inflated ego to match it. He made sure you and everyone else around him knew that he had a PhD, and therefore, in his opinion, was automatically more entitled to chase. Him and Tyler had hated each other from the moment they met while chasing an EF2 in Arkansas– their feud only grew each time their paths crossed. 

Anderson was grinning at you through the window as soon as his van rolled by. You did your best to avert your gaze– hoping that lack of eye contact would avoid any sort of conversation. 

Unfortunately, you weren’t so lucky. 

“There she is,” he announced, boots scuffing against the dirt parking lot as he hopped out from the driver’s seat. 

“Now what're you doin’ out here all by yourself? Your team finally leave you behind? Realized they didn’t need two uni drop outs on their team?” he asked, tone already dripping in sarcasm. 

He was an antagonizer who got off on provoking others. And although you and Anderson had your fair share of unpleasant exchanges, you knew he only ever bothered you to get under Tyler’s skin. 

Tyler’s biggest weakness was that he was endlessly protective of the people he loved. You saw this particular trait as a strength– but you knew that Anderson fed off Tyler's anger, which you could only imagine was his intention now. Thankfully Tyler was in the diner– hopefully gorging on raspberry pancakes as you spoke. Because if he were to see Anderson talking to you– you knew this whole interaction would escalate quickly. 

“Anderson,” you sighed, leaning casually against the hood of Tyler’s truck. The smile you forced on your face was almost painful. “So lovely to see you, as always.”

You hoped if you withheld from his taunting, he might move on quicker. 

Instead, to your despair, he backtracked from his van to stand across from you. “You guys go ahead,” he instructed his crew. “I’m gonna spend some time with my friend here.”

They nodded before heading towards the diner, leaving the two of you alone. 

“You should teach that hillbilly- boyfriend of yours some manners. If I remember correctly, last time I saw him, he drove through a puddle to splash me.”

You bit back a grin as you recalled the moment he was referring to. “I’m sure it wasn’t on purpose,” you lied (it was absolutely on purpose). 

Anderson chuckled. “You know– I don’t know if we’ve ever had a conversation just us, without him lingering around. You’re much more pleasant. Both in conversation and in looks.” 

You felt a chill run down the length of your spine at his words– but the way he was looking at you was infinitely worse. You watched as his eyes flickered from your face to your chest– currently more exposed than you would like in the tanktop you wore in the stifling Oklahoma heat. You wished you had grabbed a shirt to cover up in– but they were all either dirty and packed away somewhere in your duffel. 

Clearing your throat, you stood up straight and crossed your arms, attempting to shield yourself from his lingering gaze. 

“Oh, hey now darlin’, don’t cover up. I’ve been stuck in the van all day with these jokers, this is the most action I’ve gotten all summer.” 

You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks as you tried desperately to remain level headed. Anderson was a jerk– and he’d definitely make you uncomfortable… but you couldn’t imagine that he’d ever actually do anything to harm you.  

Then again, you’d never interacted with him for longer than a minute or two with Tyler and the rest of the crew at your side. This was uncharted territory that you didn’t care to explore. You felt your earlier determination to handle him on your own fade away with uneasiness.  

You turned your head towards the diner, hoping you might catch Tyler’s gaze through the window or something. Of course you were too far away for that– all you caught was the glare from the sun. 

“You know I’m not used to seeing you in clothes like this, usually you’re all covered up,” Anderson whistled. 

As soon as he took a step closer, you instinctively moved too. Except your legs collided with Tyler’s truck– preventing you from actually going anywhere. For some dumb reason, you felt obligated to hold your ground– to not let him see how uncomfortable he was really making you. But with each passing comment, you grew more and more fearful. 

Anderson now had his body angled towards you with a look that could only be described as predatorial. “God, it’s true you don’t know what you’re missin’ til you see it. We should have these heat waves more often if it means I get to take a look at this every day.”

You tried and failed to remain stoic. You wanted to yell– to tell him to shut the fuck up. But for some reason, your body and brain weren’t connecting. 

“C’mon, where is she?” he taunted. “You know, your sweet side has its perks. But I much prefer ‘em a little spicy.” 

He took another few steps closer to you. It was subtle, but you noticed. Anderson was so obviously getting a kick out of whatever the hell he was doing here, and you were doing a piss-poor job at withholding from it, like you’d originally planned. 

“Why don’t you come on back in my van with me,” he winked. “I’m not sure how your hillbilly does it, but I can show ya a real good time.” 

Get away from me, you wanted to scream. But your mouth wouldn’t move– your voice was lost somewhere inside of you. And all you could get your body to do was lean away from him slightly. 

“Don’t be like that, darlin’,” he cooed. He was so close that you could almost smell his breath. Your brain told you to fight– to shove or kick or do something to get him away from you. But all those previous instincts you had to fight back faded into paralyzing fear. 

Anderson reached across the space between you to move a loose strand of hair from your face as you began to tremble. “And don’t be afraid, baby doll. I don’t bite… too hard. Owens ain’t gotta know–”

“Anderson!” 

Your head snapped at the sound of a familiar voice… Not just any familiar voice– Tyler’s voice. He was currently storming across the parking lot with a look of pure hatred across his face. The second his eyes landed on you– undoubtedly and obviously terrified, that anger only intensified. 

“Get the fuck away from her,” he demanded. His eyes were narrowed and shockingly darker than their normal shade of sage. 

“Here he is!” Anderson taunted. “Her douche bag in shining armor.”

You couldn’t help but notice Anderson didn’t step away. In fact, if anything, he looked like he was about to step closer, just to really test his limits. But then, to your relief, you saw Boone, Dani, and Lily storming out of the diner in Tyler’s wake– all coming to your rescue. 

In an instant, Tyler was there, stepping between you and Anderson– forming the protective barrier you needed to finally feel safe again. Without thinking, you fisted the back of Tyler’s T-shirt for good measure. 

“Easy, Rambo,” Anderson sneered. “I was just tellin’ your sweetheart here how much I enjoy her new look. Who knew she had all this hidin’ under those baggy shirts? That the reason you keep her hangin’ around, Owens? I knew she had to be good for something–”

But Anderson didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Because before you knew what was happening, Tyler was lunging forward and connecting his fist with Anderson’s nose. 

The crack as it broke was deafening, you released Tyler’s shirt to cover your mouth in shock. Tyler hit him with enough force that he went staggering back a few steps, his hands instantly moving to cup his face. 

Tyler was still shaking off his hand when Anderson stood up straight, blood pouring out of both nostrils. 

“Damn, that bitch must be as good as she looks if she’s worth all this,” Anderson continued to taunt. Even with a broken nose, he didn’t back down.  

Without even hesitating, Tyler moved to strike again. But as soon as he did, Boone and Dani were both stepping in front of him to break things up. 

“Easy, T–” Boone said. 

“Stay the fuck away from her,” Tyler snarled in warning, pointing his finger over Boone’s shoulder. You’d never quite heard his voice so malicious or threatening before, and even though it was in your defense, it sent shivers down your spine.   

Suddenly, Lily grabbed your hand from the side, causing you to flinch. “It’s okay,” she said, tugging you a few steps away from the chaos– like she knew how badly you needed space from everything. “You alright?”

You nodded, flustered.  

“Next time you want to settle this without your little army of strays, you let me know, Owens. And next time you want a good time, Y/N, you know where to find me,” Anderson said, offering you a wink that churned your stomach. With that, he wiped some blood from his nose and began sauntering back towards his van. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Tyler snarled, still being physically held back by Dani and Boone. 

“Yeah, and he’d deserve it. But he’s not worth catchin’ a charge,” Boone said. “It’s been a slow season and we don’t got the kind of money to bail you out of jail.”

“Take a breath, T,” Dani said. “He’s walkin’ away. Take a breath.”

You watched Tyler slowly come back to his body. He listened to Dani and took a deep breath– his shoulders visibly relaxing when he exhaled. It seemed to be enough for his friends to finally release him. 

As soon as he was free from their grasp, Tyler turned around– his attention landing on you. “Are you okay?” he asked, his previously menacing voice now laced with so much care and concern. He stood in front of you– his body blocking all views of Anderson and their vans. His hands moved to cup your cheeks gently. 

“I’m fine,” you said, attempting to convince yourself more than anyone else. But even you knew it didn’t sound convincing. Your voice subtly cracked on the final word. 

Tyler stroked his thumb along your skin. The look on his face told you he didn’t quite believe you as his eyes flickered down to your trembling hands. Thankfully he didn’t ask more. 

“I gotta say that was a nasty right hook, T,” Boone said, clapping Tyler on the back as he approached. “I didn’t know you had it in ya.”

“What’d that asshat say to you?” Lily asked. “You looked really shaken up when we saw you out the diner window.”

“Nothing,” you mumbled, too embarrassed to repeat his taunts. You were shocked by how self-conscious you suddenly felt with everyone’s eyes on you. Anderson’s previous words had made you incredibly aware of every inch of yourself– like there was an electrical current humming underneath the surface of your skin. 

“Just the usual shit,” you tried to brush it off.  

You felt grateful when they didn’t push. 

Eventually, the crew disassembled– everyone focused on getting their stuff together to hit the road again. Anderson didn’t reemerge from his van, but as you sat idly in the passenger seat of Tyler’s truck, you didn’t take your eyes off from where it was parked– like you were anticipating some sort of retaliation. 

You remained hidden from the team– feeling so awkward and uncomfortable– like you didn’t want to be perceived or noticed by anyone. And you hated that Anderson’s words were the ones to make you feel that way. You couldn’t find any shirts in your duffel bag that weren’t disgusting. And currently you didn’t have the time or patience to dig through your second bag in the RV. So instead, you wrapped your arms awkwardly over your chest, trying to make yourself as small as possible just as Tyler climbed into the front seat. 

“Everyone else is riding in the RV, it’s just us,” he said, eyes lingering on you. 

“Okay,” you said, trying your best to sound casual. You wondered if he ordered everyone in the RV so that you’d feel more comfortable. You made a mental note to thank him for that later, he was always so good at reading between the lines.  

Tyler instantly noticed your uneasiness. “Baby, what’d he say to you?” 

You shrugged, refusing to meet his gaze out of sheer embarrassment. “I mean, I think you caught the gist of it at the end there… Just a lot of that.”

You heard his loud exhale. “Just say the word and I’ll barge into that stupid van and kill him right now.”

The corner of your lip tugged into a small smile. “I just want you to stay here,” you admitted. 

He nodded solemnly. Without another word, Tyler passed you something he had scrunched up in his fist. It was one of his T-shirts– like he knew you wanted to cover up without even having to say it. You took the shirt– the thanks you wanted to offer him remained stuck in your throat, but Tyler didn’t seem to mind. 

Instead, he pretended to fiddle with the radio while you silently slipped the shirt on. Almost instantly, you felt like you could relax underneath the fabric of his clothes. 

You curled your arms around yourself and tucked your knees to your chest. When Tyler asked if you were ready to head out, you nodded without another word. 

…

It was only seven when you arrived at the motel. Tyler went into the lobby to book the rooms while everyone else hung back. Boone and Lily were going on and on about using the pool later that night, but once you’d grabbed your bags from the truck, you sort of tuned it all out. 

Tyler found you sitting on the curb once he’d passed out everyone else’s room keys. He picked up your duffel from the ground before speaking for the first time in almost an hour. 

“You ready for bed?”

You nodded, offering him your best attempt at a convincing smile.  

“C’mon,” he motioned his head to the left. “We’re upstairs.”

Tyler led the way to your room– and even though this was a dingy motel, you’d never seen anything more perfect. The shades were dark, the AC worked, and there was a single, plush-looking queen bed in the middle of the room just screaming your name. 

Tyler let you shower first. And when you emerged from the bathroom, all the sweat and grime finally washed from your skin, he was gone. But in his place, he’d laid out one of his T-shirts and a pair of his boxers on the bed for you to use. You almost teared up at the sight of just how thoughtful he was… Still reading between the lines. 

You’d spent the entire duration of your shower trying to convince yourself that what had happened earlier wasn’t that big of a deal. Anderson was a jerk– of course he was going to say some jerk-ish things. It shouldn’t have been a surprise– and yet, you couldn’t shake the discomfort you felt. It was like all the words he’d said to you had nestled underneath your skin and made a home for themselves. 

In an attempt to shake the thoughts away, you quickly shrugged on Tyler’s clothes before sitting on the edge of the bed and wrapping your arms around yourself. 

Almost as soon as you sat down, you heard the front door to the motel open up. Tyler stepped into the room carrying his own bag and a couple of water bottles he must’ve grabbed for the two of you. 

“Better?” he asked, handing you one. 

You nodded and cracked it open. “Much.”

Tyler sighed before joining you on the edge of the bed. “Baby, are you sure you’re okay?” 

“I-” you started and then stopped. Your hands were shaking, but you jumped when you felt Tyler’s hand close around yours, steadying them. His touch gave you just an ounce of courage to speak. 

“It wasn’t even anything that bad–” you admitted. “I meant it earlier, you heard the worst of it… I just, I don't know, I can't explain it. But everything he said made me feel so gross… and dirty, and…” And, well, you didn’t quite know what else. Words were hard to come by tonight. 

“Oh, baby,” Tyler exhaled. He released your hand to wind his arm around your shoulders, tugging you to his chest instead.  

It wasn’t until he shushed you that you even realized you were crying, but it came out in a rush. You clung to him, instantly impressed by his ability to just make you feel so much safer. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he assured you, only squeezing tighter. 

“I don’t know why this bothered me so much–” 

“Because Anderson is an asshole and he intentionally said some gross shit to shake you up,” he answered for you. “You’re allowed to be upset by that.” 

You exhaled against his shirt, and when you licked your lips, you tasted salt. 

“I’m the sorry one,” he said. 

“What?” you shook your head. “You don’t have to be sorry–”

“I should have been there.”

“You were there,” you reminded him. “Unless I blacked out or something and I was really the one who punched him in the nose…”

Tyler chuckled softly, you felt the vibration against your chest– instantly soothing you. 

You sighed after a moment, trying to decide if you wanted to share what was really bothering you. You bit the inside of your cheek. It was so tempting to keep it to yourself, but more tempting than that was the idea of finally feeling a little more at ease again after just telling Tyler the truth. 

“I just–” you paused again. “I–” 

“Hey,” he said. You looked up at him briefly. “It’s just me.” 

That was the problem– it was Tyler. And you didn’t want Tyler thinking less of you because of what had happened. 

“I didn’t fight back,” you said quietly. “I just froze up– it was like I couldn’t even think straight. And he kept going and going, and I just stood there– taking it.”

Tyler ran his hand up and down your arm reassuringly. “What are you talking about?”

“It just felt like…” your voice tapered off. 

Tyler waited a moment before asking gently, “Like what?” 

“It just felt like I didn’t do anything to stop it,” you whispered so quietly you weren’t even sure he’d heard you. “Like I let it happen.”

“Baby,” Tyler sighed. “Baby, no. Anderson is such a jackass, it wouldn’t have mattered what you said–”

“But I could have told him to get the fuck away from me–”

“You were just trying to keep yourself safe. Baby, we can’t control how we react when we’re scared. It’s fight or flight–”

“Or freeze,” you mumbled, embarrassed. 

“Or freeze. I’m pretty sure fawning is one too, now,” he said. “But it doesn’t matter– what matters is you can’t control that you froze. Just like–”

“Just like you couldn’t control punching him in the face?” you asked. 

You glanced up just in time to see Tyler’s lips tug into a smile. “Exactly,” he said. 

“I just wish my fear reaction was a little more effective,” you pouted. “Freezing didn’t do much.”

You let your eyes fall shut when Tyler tugged you closed to his chest. “I guess it’s a good thing you have a douchebag in shining armor to come help whenever you need it,” he smirked. 

“Thanks for protecting me,” you said quietly. 

“I’ll always protect you, you know that,” he said, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head. 

You smiled against his chest. You really did know that. “And thanks for punching him in the nose.”

Tyler snorted. “Anderson’s had that coming for a long time.”

[f1angelz]

𝒇𝒆𝒅 𝒖𝒑 — lando norris x f!reader

summary: lando has been fed up with Y/N’s bratty attitude, unfortunately for her, he finally bursts out.

content warning: (non proofread) smut, p in v, fingering, cunnilingus, heavy degradation, spanking, swearing (literally starts under the cut), unprotected sex, edging, overstimulation, and a hint of fluff at the end!

guys pls don’t bully me this is the first time i’ve written a full smut fic 😔 if you aren’t into hardcore shit this is your final warning to leave!

── .✦

“You fucking bitch.” As soon as the door was slammed shut, Lando grips her by the neck from behind, turning her around to face him.

“I’ve had enough of your fucking attitude, and your act earlier was the last straw.” His jaw clenched out of frustration and looked her dead in the eyes.

A few hours ago, they went on a date and it was scorching hot. Y/N wasn’t a big fan of the heat— it made her super annoyed, and annoyed she was for the whole entirety of their date.

Lando tried to be patient, trying his best to attend to her needs even if some were out of reach.

And here she was, giving Lando puppy eyes in hopes of him having mercy.

Lando dragged her to the bedroom, “O-ow! Lando, that hurts!” Y/N winced, her body being forced to follow his harsh actions.

“Now you decide to fucking speak after giving me silent treatment on the way home?” He slams her on the bed and she whines, still giving him puppy eyes.

“Those eyes aren’t gonna work on me, fucking bitch.” He aggressively pushes his lips into hers, teeth clashing and tongues fighting. Y/N tries to pull away, but Lando is quick enough to grip her cheeks to restrain her from doing so.

When Lando finally pulls away, she takes this as an opportunity to catch her breath.

“W-wait!” Y/N pleads as he practically rips off her shorts and top, leaving her in her underwear. He, too takes off his shirt and pants also leaving him in his underwear.

“Shut up.” Lando says under his breath, pushing her legs open. “Keep these legs fucking open, ‘kay?” He slaps her inner thigh, making her jolt at the sudden contact.

“Sit up.” He commands and Y/N obeys, resting her back against the headboard while keeping her legs open.

Lando lays on his stomach and positions himself in front of her pussy.

Gently, he placed kisses on her inner thigh while his free hand teased the other.

Y/N’s breaths were stuttering, feeling ticklish at his touch. She wanted more— she needed more.

“Lando please..” She croaked out in a soft, trembling voice, afraid of what his response may be. “Please what? Hmm?” He taunts, looking up at her.

He pulls away from her thigh and focuses on inching closer to her pussy, a wet patch evidently marking on her underwear. Lando smirks, “Already so fucking wet? What a slut.” He mocks and slaps her pussy, earning a moan from the female. He watched the wet patch grew larger and Lando laughed even more.

He teases a finger on her clit, still keeping her underwear on. He licks on the wet patch and Y/N’s mouth hangs open. “P-please..” She begs in a small voice.

Lando pulls her underwear to the side to reveal her wet, desperate pussy. He brings his finger to her clit, rubbing it in painfully slow circles. Y/N looks at him, biting her lip out of frustration.

“Look at this pussy.. So fucking wet, so desperate for me. Yeah? Isn’t that right?” Lando looks at her, applying pressure on her clit. She nods, accepting the fact that she was desperate for his touch.

Unsatisfied with her answer, he slaps her pussy once more. “Speak when you’re spoken to.” Y/N lets out a moan, almost a scream from how sensitive she is. “F-fuck, yes! Fuck p-please, I need your fingers.”

Lando, feeling a tinge of sympathy, removes her underwear to fully reveal her pussy. He teases her entrance with his finger, coating it with her wetness.

Y/N pushes herself down onto his fingers, in attempt to feel stretched out by at least just one finger.

“Needy little bitch. That’s what you want? Fine, fuck yourself on my fingers.” Lando sits up and gets on his knees, finger still inside her.

Y/N, left with no choice yet with such desperation, obeys and starts fucking herself on his digits.

She moans out, and even louder when he adds another and curls it inside her. Lando rubs her clit with his thumb, making her go crazy. “Sh-shit, that feels so good.” She manages to say between her shaky moans.

She picks up the pace, slowly feeling a knot form in her abdomen.

“I’m gonna c-cum, please let me cum.” Y/N begs, looking at Lando.

“You aren’t cumming yet.” He pulls out his fingers and pushes her down on the bed, then aggressively pulls her legs closer to his face to eat her out.

He sinks down onto her, licking a long stripe then stopping at her clit to suck it.

Y/N cries out, finally taking in what she’s been craving for. Lando sucks harder upon hearing her moans, then shoving two fingers in her.

Her jaw hangs open, unable to produce another sound from all the pleasure her body is receiving. Eventually, she feels a familiar sensation in her abdomen— causing her thighs to tighten around Lando’s head.

Lando pushes her legs down and looks up at her, pulling away from her pussy.

Y/N whines, the feeling of pleasure being ripped away from her once more.

Lando gets on his knees and takes her by the waist, aggressively turning her around to put her in all fours.

“P-please..” Was all she could say, “Ass up.” He places a hard slap on her ass and she jolts.

“Do I have to repeat myself?” Two slaps were given, and tears were starting to form in the corners of her eyes— overwhelmed and overstimulated from everything that was happening.

Pissed off, Lando grabbed her hair and shoved her head in the pillows with no remorse. Y/N hiccuped, tears streaming down her face.

Lando gets rid of his underwear, freeing his dick from the restraints. He gives her ass a firm squeeze before shoving his dick in her with no warning, forcefully fitting his thick cock.

Y/N practically screams at the sudden action, the first thrust hitting her cervix causing her tears to shed even more.

“Where’s the bratty little bitch from earlier? Hmm?” Lando asks in a demeaning tone, his rhythm going faster. “I-I’m so— s-sorry, baby p-please!” She sobs out, regretting all she has done— but it was definitely too late.

He slaps her ass again, but this time much harder. Y/N was helpless, gripping on the pillows like her life depended on it. With every thrust, her body was starting to become limp.

Her mind wasn’t processing anything. Only sobs, moans, and whines were coming out of her mouth— her poor pussy severely overstimulated.

Lando pulls her hair, causing her head to jerk upwards. “Fucked out that little brain of yours?”

She doesn’t answer, only sobbing and moaning from the pleasure. “S-sorry, baby I’m s— s-sorry! I wanna cum pl-lease!” She managed to say in between sobs, catching her breath.

He lets go of her hair, limp body falling down on the bed like a rag doll. Lando lets out a laugh, picking up the pace even more.

Y/N’s voice was growing hoarse from all cries and screams she was letting out, and she knew Lando wasn’t gonna stop anytime soon.

The knot in her abdomen forms again for the third time, and she secretly hoped that it would finally release for that night.

“C-cum.. I’m gon— gonna c-cum!” She cries even harder, the pillows visibly wet from her tears and sweat.

“Hmm? The little bitch is gonna cum?” Lando mocks, his thrust going at an ungodly pace. His grip on her hips tighten, pushing it down for him to go even deeper.

“Go cum.” With Lando’s command, Y/N’s most awaited release comes instantly, pleasure immediately washing over her.

He pulls out, her juices gushing out of her entrance. Y/N’s legs shake, her body completely surrendering to collapse. Eyes were half lidded, breaths still shaky and tears were still flowing ever so slightly.

Lando takes a look at her state and a wave of regret instantly surges over his mind.

He sinks beside her on the bed, taking her in his arms. He rests her head on his chest, stroking her hair.

“You s-still love me, right..?” She croaks out, sniffling as she looked up to meet his eyes.

Lando, with a concerned look on his face, wipes her remaining tears away. “My love, I will always love you. I didn’t mean to be so aggressive, especially with my words. I’m sorry baby.” He looks at her endearingly, moving her hair away from her face.

“Are you hurt?” He asks, scanning her body for any bruises. “My ass hurts..” She whines, turning her body slightly to show the red marks he previously made.

“My poor baby.” He pouts and grazes his hand over the marks, making Y/N wince.

“Do you want me to draw you a bath, or would you like to stay like this for a little more?” Lando places a hand on her cheek, stroking it lightly.

“We can stay like this for a while.” She takes his hand on her cheek, intertwining it with her hand.

After a few minutes, Y/N dozed off— embraced in her lover’s arms.

── .✦

[hyperfixating-rn-brb]

The Good Omens Fandom has had a lot of fun recently with the knowledge of Aziraphale and Crowley holding hands on the bus at the end of season 1.

Soo here's everything that went through my head as I learned of it for the first time.

For that entire scene, Aziraphale is really far gone. He's dissociating so hard he can't even realize he's been sitting on a sword. Crowley is probably the only thing keeping him grounded.

They just narrowly stopped Armageddon after a showdown with literally Satan, and still can't let their guard down. For the first time ever, they're completely on their own side. Now they have to orchestrate a body swap to save both of them. They wouldn't just be killed, they'd be completely destroyed. Everything must go exactly according to plan, but how often does that actually happen?

And on top of that, his bookshop, his home, his safe place with the demon he has to pretend not to love is burned and gone.

Crowley is so incredibly gentle and reassuring this entire scene. He's been through so much trauma himself and has spent a lot of his existence shielding the angel from it, hoping to protect some of his innocence and naivete. Crowley is absolutely familiar with every symptom of PTSD and anxiety.

Now he has to see his sweet angel see such a small bit of the horrors of heaven and hell and start to crumble inside. He's going to do his dam best to try and help Aziraphale through it. Speaking softly, ("the bookshop burned down... remember?) slowly and carefully, gradually helping to pull the angel back to reality, reminding him that he's there and will help ground him.

They get on the bus, and sit next to each other. 11 years ago, they sat nearby but separated while Crowley begs Aziraphale to help him prevent the Apocalypse. Now they are sitting together. Both an act of reassurance and unity.

Crowley sits first, Aziraphale could so easily just sit across from him, behind or in front. But he chooses to sit right next to him. And hold his hand. Aziraphale desperately needs to be near to the *former* demon he loves, to hold him, to make sure they won't be separated.

In the book, their famous lines of "none of this would have worked out if you weren't, deep down, just a bit of a good person" and "just enough of a b*stard to be worth liking" came as Satan rose from the earth, as a goodbye in case they were destroyed.

Luckily, that didn't happen and they survived. Armaggedon was stopped. But the angel is still so anxious of losing Crowley. So he chooses to reach out, to anchor himself and reassure himself that Crowley is still there beside him and that they are okay, at least for a few minutes.

And Crowley let him. He knows how badly Aziraphale needs him, he needs the angel just as much. He knows how badly he craved an anchor and support system as he was first abused and traumatized by his Fall, then further by Hell. So he's going to continue being there for Aziraphale, doing everything he can to make his angel feel safe and comfortable.

Over the next few years, Aziraphale would become so much more comfortable reaching out and touching Crowley. Leaning into him, resting a hand on his shoulder or briefly touching his chest. Somehow both reassuring himself that the former demon was still there, and reminding Crowley that he's still there for him at the same time.

Then Crowley becomes more comfortable with the touch, leaning into the angel by himself. No longer flinching at a sudden graze of a hand or reassuring squeeze.

That one moment of the two holding hands on the bus cemented so much of their relationship. "The last few years, not really..." all started on that bus the moment Aziraphale chose to sit down next to Crowley.

edited: at first this said "new knowledge" because I just found out about this all the other day, and wrote this up at 3 AM, and didn't really fact check when this knowledge became well known. I've only really been a GO fan since maybe 2021, and only really started being active in the fandom during the last few months, so a lot of info that is fairly well known is still generally new to me. soo yeah this was edited :)

source for anyone asking for it!

[neil-gaiman]

Hello Mr Gaiman. I have read all of your books.

This is not an ask, rather an answer.

I would like to say thank you for saving me. Knowing I will never meet you will not change the way I feel about you or myself.

Love your fiction work. I feel bad for the fact that it’s not fiction to me. It is my life story.

Very sad one. That I am still trying to make sense of today.

I was raised by the other mother. Not really, but I was raised by a bipolar narcissist who hated me and loved me but didn’t know how to do either. She sexually abused me for 12 years.

No one ever believed me. No one.

So I would pretend that I was Coraline and that I was brave. I was. But that was because I knew that the spell had to break at some point.

I am 24 now. She is old and frail but the hell she has made in my mind - I almost never escaped. Until I understood that I truly was stronger.

Because she tried to make me just like her, but I refused. I picked kindness.

If you can’t find a friend, be one. If you can’t find someone you look up to- become someone who others can look up to.

I did. I tried my best. I promise.

I want to tell you the ultimate secret that no one ever could. You probably figured it out a long time ago, but it still makes me feel better to write it here, even if I know that you might never reply or ask me if I am safe, or dismiss me like a crazed fan/abused child who desperately needs help and attention.

I don’t. I would like to be your friend. But I know it is not possible.

So I want you to know I know why they do it.

They do it for the same reason as you wrote books. To not feel alone.

But that is the problem with existing in this world. Evil is nothing but not understanding yourself and hating different people from you.

Ignorance brings hate. How do you justify yourself in a world like this?

Simple.

You change the world by breading more people who believe hate is love, and love is hate. Evil needs justification. Kindness needs non.

I sat alone for 24 years and told no one. The paragraph above was just the start and the ending.

My story is still unfolding. But I wanted to let you know you are no longer sitting alone at your birthday party.

Because the only present I ever got was knowing someone else like me existed.

Someone who could look evil in the eye and stare back.

And never stop talking about it.

Thank you Mr. Gaiman, for writing “View from the Cheap Seats”

When I read it I put it down as well as the razor that I wanted to end my life with.

Because you were my only friend. And you still are.

And I cannot take the injustice anymore. If they won’t read, I will read to them.

I will save them just like you saved me. Making reading cool and easy.

And I will do it for you and me. So that no one else can see the horrors anywhere but in books and movies.

And I will do it one act of kindness and love at a time.

So they will know that injustice is just a state of mind.

Thank you Mr.Gaiman. You gave me hope.

And now I will do the unthinkable. I will try until my dying breath to change their mind.

One step forward into a future where you are not sad and a story like mine is just a horror movie and not a reality.

Because you are my only friend, and I hate to see my friends sad.

Leto

I'm so proud of you, and this made me tear up.

[tojisun]

Poor poor hockey! Simon :(

he lost and now the only thing to make him feel better is a good bj

this made me twitch so here u are my love !!!

!! comfort/smut - minors dni; hockey au; praises (in a tender way and but also in a kink way); D/s-ish; some semblance of plot ig // 2.4k words (LMAO)

the horn blows, marking the end of the game and, with that, the end of spec gru’s season.

it was heartbreaking to watch the way the boys' bodies slump, their loss descending onto them like heavy rain. the arena shakes, screams from the opposing team's fans piercing your ears, but you can't blame them, really—they won on home ice, against the leviathan of the league. it is a tremendous win for them, and a devastating loss for your side.

you feel your hand getting squeezed and you turn, looking at johnny's fiancee, seeing the way her own face is crumpled in her sadness.

"i guess that's that, huh?" she says, comforting, her voice a quiet whisper that was almost devoured by the loud cheers.

sometimes you forget that she's an athlete too; that she feels things a lot more intense than you do because she understands the grapple. the desperation. the way how everything you give and everything you put out is, at the end, not enough.

you sniffle, holding her hand tighter.

"i'm so proud of 'em," you say wetly, unable to compartmentalize your grief.

she laughs, the sound of it so empty of any humour but not any less kind.

“i am too.”

you both turn your gazes back to the rink and watch the teams shake hands with each other, the players finally amiable like they hadn’t just been tussling on ice, all sparked by the sharp tension that buzzed throughout their play.

you watch as simon takes a lap, patting the backs of his team members with his lips pursed, but otherwise he is put together. and yet here you are, shaking, lips wobbling, nose twitching because you are trying your best not to cry. it isn’t like you were the one who lost so you wonder why your heart twinges with so much pain; why is it that you are the one holding back the tears?

simon turns to the crowd, roving his eyes past bodies, until they finally lock on you. his lips twitch into a smile; you give him what you hope is a big one—the type of smile that will let him know how in awe you are of him, win or not.

they skate away and you all shuffle out, preparing for the flight back home.

.

it was expected for the players to fly back home together—a semblance of normalcy even amidst the staggering defeat. it was their last attempt at showing sportsmanship; at showing the hounding media that despite the abrupt end of their season, they remained close-knit. 

simon understands it, of course. it was a media play, one that contends with the politics of the league, but it was difficult to act impartially, especially when they were making their way back, empty-handed, from the home ice of the team that had defeated them. it was difficult to not show the turmoil in their hearts, but they all managed to hold their heads up high during the exit and that was that.

they didn’t talk about it much, avoiding that last game as best as they could until the briefing, but hunger thrums in their jowls—no one was satisfied with being the second best. 

the promise of a better next season hung above them, but it is still so unreachable.

simon feels angrier than usual, unable to stop himself from taking this loss personally. like what costed them their win were only his shortcomings; like this defeat was his sole failure because he did promise to lead his team on ice, with price unable to stand as their official captain during the games. he had promised to score the most, after all, and had promised to keep the opposing puck out of price’s net, but he failed in both and, well, here they are.

back home, anguished. defeated.

he–

simon's phone rings, a quiet trill that echoes in the empty locker room. 

he shoots awake from the swirl of his thoughts, sluggish as he pulls it out of his bag. he expected it to be laswell or keller, or maybe their coach, but simon feels his world tilt when he sees your name flashing on his screen. and just like that, like he wasn’t even drowning in his self-doubt and self-hatred, simon feels like he can breathe again. 

he feels lighter, his anguish seeping out of his pores, leaving him with nothing but his flesh and his heart and his love. 

simon picks up the call, hears your voice, then he is up and running back home. 

.

there is a sense of urgency in the way he finds you, his cold body folding into the warm touch of your own. you gasped out his name, surprised at how fast you have him back in your arms after a whole season of flying and leaving and pursuing his chance at the cup—

“i’m home, petal,” simon murmurs, his voice deep and beautiful and longing, and you giggle, your eyes watering, before you nuzzle into his chest.

he breathes you in, the faint smell of ozone and rain and something distinctly flowery fills his nose, and somehow this is what grounds him, his blood spiking as desire and need fill him up instead.

and it trickles into him like wafting smoke—soft, gentle, cascading like a warm kiss. it is still intense, hungry, but it is tender. quiet. like everything about simon’s buzzed energy had transformed into this careful folding. the anger, the desperation, all of it snuffed out for a vulnerable moment.

“baby,” you begin, voice muffled from where your head is still pressed on his chest. “love, you did so well.”

he shakes, his words failing him now. 

you pull back just enough and he sees the glazed look in your eyes as you stare up at him, your lips curled in your smile. “i’m so proud of you, si.” 

his heart stutters inside the cages of his ribs, jumping, before it lodges itself in his throat. 

you giggle at his wordless tremors and press close again, your body melting onto his again, before you tip your head back to his chest but this time, instead of a nuzzle, you greet his beating heart with a kiss. one that is so light he barely feels it from his shirt, but simon feels so shaken. 

he feels so raw. 

you are holding him like he is the best thing in this world. like all his bulk and his size and his anger is still worth this softness.

“i need you,” he croaks out, unable to stop the way his feelings bloat and rage in the pit of his stomach. 

“you have all of me,” you reply, breathless, your eyes still blown open, wide and full of wonder. then they shift, turning sharper, gaining edge; still careful, coaxing, but overwhelming. “tell me, my love. tell me how you need me.”

“fuck,” simon rasps out, feeling like he’s running out of air. his fingers twitch, digging deep into your skin, feeling it mould under his touch.

he’s missed this, alright. he’s—

“mouth,” he finally manages to bite out. “wan’ feel your mouth, love.”

“okay,” you croon, kissing his pec again. “sit f’me?”

simon doesn’t even have it in him to feel embarrassed about the way he falls to his ass on the plush mattress, bouncing a little bit because of the force, before he spreads his legs open, so, so desperate. 

you have your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, canines dimpling the flesh, and simon feels like he is burning from the inside; doused with the fires of need, spark untamable, licking up, up, up.

“come on, firelily,” he rumbles, needy. “c’mere an’ kiss me.”

you huff, fond, and fall to your knees, scooting close to him. 

it was silent as you fumble with his sweats, tugging at the drawstring and grumbling when the hem gets snugged on his hips. simon chuckles, pushing your hair out of your face before he juts up just enough to give you room to slide his sweats and his boxers down.

the cool air makes him tremble and you murmur something. it was so faint that he doesn’t get to catch what it was, but his curiosity sizzles at the sight of you licking your palm, shyly with how you refuse to meet his eyes. he almost teases you, his cheeks round with giddiness, but then you wrapped your fist around his half-chub, and his sanity is razed. 

simon hisses, eyes fluttering close at the warm curl of pleasure.

jesus. he’s missed the feeling of this; your hand is softer, more supple, around his cock. it was so different from when it was his own fist rubbing himself, beating at his angrily flushed cock with desperation only for his peak to tip over mutedly, and not enough to truly satiate his hunger.

but this? fuck. 

simon doesn’t even realize he’s whimpering, his head thrown back at the curious pace of your hand, not really jerking him off but mapping along his veins almost in quiet awe. 

“‘m not gon’ last long if you–” he gasps at a particular twist. “if you keep doing that.”

“oh, no we can’t have that,” you tease, chuckling, and simon’s reply builds on the tip of his tongue, cheeky, but then you’re already moving, your back folding, your breath hitting his sensitive head.

his thighs tense in his anticipation, his stomach locking. you flit your eyes up at him, pupils blown wide in your own ragged need, before he jerks at the feeling of your tongue pressing on the underside of his cock, licking up, and teasing his leaking slit.

simon moans, guttural, his voice caught on the back of his throat. he drops his hands to his sides, fisting at the sheets as you keep licking, teasing his slit and tracing his veins, lapping at his cock so messily. 

if he didn’t know any better, he’d think that you’re inexperienced; all sloppy and curious, like you’re attempting things you’ve probably seen in porn, but then you close the ring of your mouth around the bulbed head, suckling like it’s a goddamn loli, while your hands drop to squeeze his balls, and simon’s gone. 

“shit-!” he gasps out, battling air like he’s back on ice. 

he bucks his hips forward, unable to help himself, and only stops at the warbled sound of your surprise.

“fuck,” he hisses, hand coming up to swipe the hair from your sweaty face. “i’m sorry, darlin’. didn’t mean t’force it down. s’just that y’r so good.”

he keeps petting your cheek, overtaken by his desires and no longer able to stop the string of words trickling from his heart. “missed you lots, swee’art. missed you so much—take me deeper?”

your cheeks hollow as you hum, so obedient for him.

“yeah, jus’ like that,” simon trills, his chest rising as he breathes in deeply. his stomach flexes at the feeling of you swallowing more of him, taking his thickness past your gummy cheeks and into the wet vice of your throat. “shit, baby. christ. y’feel so fuckin’ good ‘round me. so perfect an’ wet.” he giggles, drunken in his bliss. “such a messy baby y’are. so sloppy. y’wanted my cock that much, din’ya? so hungry f’r it.”

there’s a wet slurp when he hits the deepest you could allow him, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. you choke, your body lurching in protest, but simon is at the throes of his pleasure and his rational thoughts are devoured by his gluttonous need, and simon knows it is wrong to ask but—

“hold it in? can you do that f’r me, love?” he croons, his voice curling in his euphoria.

he knows this is playing dirty; to use your weakness—the deep rumble of his voice and the gentle beckoning—to make you weak, malleable. to make you just as desperate for him because he knows all you want to do is to be good for him even when it has you straining, your eyes filling up with tears. he knows it is wrong, but he can’t help it. he wants you this way.

and you want him like this too—his desires sharpening, shaping him to be mean and dangerous. his thickness fills you up, pressing at the roof of your mouth and trapping your tongue underneath the weight of his flesh. your larynx is stretched out, stuffed, but simon is looking at you so adoringly, his own ecstasy so dizzying, so addicting.

you nod, sniffling, finally replying to his question because you want him to feel good. because you want him to lose his restraints when it comes to you.

because you want him to use you until he’s truly relaxed, his body exhausted with something beyond his heartbreak. with something beyond his loss.

simon’s lips wobble like he knows what it is you are thinking of. 

he fucks your throat that way, gentle and sometimes slipping into something so mean it makes you squirm on your knees, the muted throb of your strained legs finally turning into staticky numbness, but you don’t complain, your jaw relaxed as you let simon use you.

he growls out his praises, his words chewed on in his peaking euphoria—nose flaring, cheeks flushed red—or lilting as he teases you—pulling his cock out enough that all that is left is the head, and you whine because you want him in, please simon. wan’ more please—

“gonna cum, sweetheart. gonna cum—fuck!—gonna—”

simon throws his head back, a blinding white filling his eyes and his ears ringing. his body trembles at the intensity of his orgasm, immense pleasure overtaking every synapses in his body until all that he feels is the feverish wrap of your mouth on him.

he flicks his eyes down, panting, and twitches at the sight you make—jaw slack, eyes faraway, skin shining with a thin sheen of sweat. 

you look, fuck, you look angelic like this.

simon cups your cheek, his thumb swiping just underneath your teary eye. you focus back to him slowly, blinking owlishly. 

“shh,” he croons, gentle. “i’ve got you, darlin’. i’ve got you.”

a whine builds from the back of your throat and simon hums, responding to your wordless babble, trying to ease you back down from the fog. he continues to hold you even amidst his oversensitivity, waiting so patiently so he can take care of you now.

yeah, he thinks to himself as he continues to return your unblinking stare. i’m glad to be back home. 

hope this was good :'33 once again pls dont judge me for my blatant self-indulgence hhHHHHH oki oki mwah!!

[moon7jay]

Pent up (l.hs, p.sh)

Read pt.2 here

Warnings : Non con, dub con(?), morally grey plot obviously (what do u even expect from me), filth, smut

Heeseung could feel the familiar itch in his chest and palms... and somewhere else. Well his dick to be precise.

He was horny. Inexplicably and utterly horny. could you blame him? His fanbase was majorly comprised of females. Hot females. But they weren't allowed to mingle with fans and that heightened his yearning more. Like craving the taste of a forbidden fruit.

He rubbed an exasperating hand over his sweaty face, breathing heavily through his nose to get in as much oxygen as he could, the testosterone was high in the hotel room, everyone still riding the adrenaline rush from the concert even though it had been done and over an hour ago. The tension was high in their bodies still and he could feel himself buzzing with it.

He knew it was practically impossible to get pussy at this hour, especially with the whole NDA thing and it agitated him further. His balls were heavy and in a desperate need to be drained empty by a tight warm pussy or mouth, he didn't even care, he just needed release.

He mentally thanked God for being the oldest and having the solo room privileges cuz it seemed like hardcore porn and his hand would have to do for the night. He was so ready to jerk off till his dick ached.

"Gonna head to my room" he informed Jay, who was sitting beside him on the spacious couch, just in case their manager started panicking upon not finding him with the rest of the boys.

Jay gave him a quick nod of acknowledgement and went back to whatever he was doing on his phone. Probably texting his girlfriend. That lucky fucker, heeseung thought. Jay's girlfriend was hot, heeseung had checked her out shamelessly on multiple occasions, even tried to get into her personal space a lot of times until Jay strictly told him to back off. Well, his bad, but what could he do? He was just a man who thought with his dick most of the time.

You heard him before you saw him, the sudden click of the door opening startling you enough to make you jump and turn around towards it. With the air freshener still in your hands, you came face to face with the most gorgeous man you had ever seen.

First thing you noticed about him was how tall he was, looking down at you even from a distance. His messy hairs fell over his forehead , his entire body clad in a casual black shirt and sweats attire. You gulped cuz this wasn't a part of the job. You were told to ready up the rooms for some very important people who would be staying at the hotel tonight but no one was supposed to be here for another hour or two. or maybe you messed up the timings again. Oh you were fucked.

The gorgeous man raised an amused eyebrow at your deer caught in the headlights stance and that's what finally made you break out of your inner monologue and you bowed to him, body on autopilot to do damage control

"I'm so sorry for the inconvenience sir, i wasn't aware you would get here this fast, I just need to fix the bed and I'll be done" you stuttered out, hoping a quick apology would be enough and turned back around to quickly fix the sheets, spraying the freshening spray around, hoping you won't be reported to the manager for this blunder.

What you failed to notice in your inner panic was how heeseung turned the lock of the door, setting the bolt in place, basically locking you in the room with him.

You didn't notice how his eyes scanned your figure while you apologized to him, or how his blood ran hot when the word "sir" came out from between those tempting, glossed lips of yours.

You didn't notice how his eyes ran shamelessly over your exposed legs, his tongue coming out to wet his lower lip while he ogled the curve of your ass as you bent over to fix the bed sheets.

Damn, heeseung thought, his dick twitching in interest, already leaking in his pants with how excited he was becoming at the sight of you.

You jumped upon feeling two large palms grabbing your sides, a squeak falling from your lips at the unwelcome touch

"What the fuck" was the first thing that came out of your mouth, caught too off gaurd to even react properly.

You tried to turn around to push him away but before you could even move he was twisting your body, manhandling you onto the bed. Your mouth opened to scream but a large palm stopped your attempt, your eyes widened in terror upon feeling his large body settle over yours, one tight grip on both of your wrists, trapping your hands above your head while his hand covered your mouth.

Heeseung was ecstatic, he could feel how soft you were against his hard body,your tiny figure squirming underneath his harsh hold, wide scared eyes staring up at him through wet lashes, he wanted to coo, you looked so adorable like this. Just ready to be fucked.

"You know I could easily get you fired sweetheart, just don't fight this" He threatened subtly, his calm voice oddly did the trick and you halted your struggling body.

You were a broke college student barely making ends meet. Your younger siblings depended on you for everything and so just the thought of getting fired was enough to chill your bones. That just wasn't something that you could afford. Tears flowed down your cheeks but you complied. Accepting your fate.

His eyes pivoted to your heaving chest, the open button at the top of your dress shirt giving him a peak of your perky mounds, driving him crazy with his rising lust for your body.

"Going to remove my hand but only if you'll be a good girl" he whispered, his hot breath fanned your face and you nodded too enthusiastically, making him chuckle and remove his hold on your mouth. His hand instantly moved to unbutton your shirt, making you sniffle into yourself. You closed your eyes in disgust, not wanting to see what was happening to your body, a sharp gasp leaving your lips when his rough hand squeezed your chest harshly.

An excited "fuck" fell from his lips upon feeling your soft tits, hardening him further in his pants. He duck down to run his nose along your clavicle, breathing you in while he groped the sensitive flesh of your boobs mercilessly. He traced the length of your neck and jaw, leaving small kisses and bites, eventually coming face to face with you.

"Open your pretty eyes I want you to see me do this to you" he whispered on your lips, taking the bottom one between his teeth. His nails dug into your mounds when you didn't listen, making you cry out in pain and giving into his wishes.

Your tear strained eyes looked into his lust blown hazy ones, watching how he suckled on your bottom lip, opening your mouth pliantly when he thrust his tongue into your mouth, licking and sucking, lewd noises coming from him at the taste of your tongue.

Heeseung was painfully hard. And as much as he wanted to take his time exploring your body, he was too fucking impatient to do so. His dick was weeping to get inside your warm fuck hole and he was not going to deprive himself of the much needed relief of your body any longer.

He moaned into your mouth, licking deeper while his hand travelled down between your legs, moving under your dress skirt to probe at your pussy from above your panties, making you gasp into his hungry mouth. That breathless gasp and the feel of your cunt was what did him in.

Removing himself from your body he climbed down the bed while you watched him petrified. Nerves frozen in anticipation of his next move.

"Take off your panties" He instructed you while he undressed his lower half, hastily taking off his sweats and boxers, exposing his hard and leaking dick to your terrified eyes.

You sobbed, your thighs closing upon the sight of his member, it was so big and you could already imagine the pain it was going to put you in. You saw how his jaw clenched at your lack of action, sharp and annoyed eyes staring daggers at your face

"we can both enjoy this if you don't fight me baby, or I can enjoy this alone I don't fucking mind it either way" He gritted through his teeth, climbing back on top of you. Before he could reach for your clothes your small hands were stopping him, sniffing softly as you took a good look at him. His inquisitive eyes watched you impatiently.

"O-okay" You whispered and slowly reached down to take off your panties, opening your legs for him. A weird tingling feeling was starting to build up in between your legs upon seeing his leaking length. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn't gotten laid in a while or maybe you were a freak but you could feel the moisture starting to accumulate in your pussy.

He bit his lower lip upon seeing you so pliant and ready to take him. God he needed to fuck the shit out of you. "That's a good fucking girl" he whispered.

He didn't wait any longer to aim his cock at your entrance, parting your pussy lips and breaching the opening of your cunt, a pained moan leaving your lips while he groaned in satisfaction at the feeling of your snug walls.

Your hands held onto his shoulders, your back arching at the feeling of him forcing himself inside of you so roughly, burying himself in your womb to the hilt.

"fuck yeah baby" He groaned upon feeling his balls slap your asscheeks, finally fitting his entire dick inside your warm and tight pussy.

He didn't give you time to adjust, his hips moving on pure animal instinct to fuck. You screamed in pain at his brutal movements but the constant bumping of his dick into your cervix was making your eyes roll back into your head.

His hips moved against yours roughly, pelvic smacking sounds filling up your senses. Heeseung's mind was focused on the singular thought of your pussy, brows furrowed and mouth open as he moved his dick in and out of you, enjoying the tight clench of your walls, giving him so much pleasure his entire body was on fire

"your cunt is making me feel so good" he panted on your face, his movements never ceasing, you could feel every drag of his veiny cock against your gummy walls, making you moan in pure pleasure

"You're getting wetter the more we fuck baby" He chuckled through strained voice, hoisting your legs over his shoulders, taking you deeper, penetrating his cock way past your womb.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, moaning helplessly as he grinded his lower body into yours, your colliding sexes making a mess now that you were leaking onto the sheets

"That's right-fuck-enjoy it with me, a little fun never hurt anybody" He grunted, increasing his pace, desperately chasing the friction your pussy was giving him

"Oh my god-" you screamed when he continued to beat your insides raw, bumping continuously against your g spot.

"Yeah? feels good doesn't it baby? giving it to you so good yeah?" he spoke, his thrusts merciless. Railing you into the bed.

Your hips chased his own, opening your legs further for him, enjoying the sex more than you were supposed to. If this was happening to you, you might as well enjoy it right?

Your lips attached themselves to his throat and he moaned, lust blown eyes staring down at you

"You are getting off to this you little fucking slut, fuck yeah " He spat at you in disgust but the twitch of his dick inside your womb didn't go unnoticed by you.

"You like when men force themselves inside your slutty little cunt yeah? makes you feel so good doesn't it baby?" His words only made you wetter, your juices leaking onto his balls.

He was busy pounding you into the sheets, the bed creaking loudly, skin slapping sounds so deafening you didn't hear the lock jingling and the door opening.

"Mhmm fuck, busy enjoying alone?" a manly voice interrupted your pleasure filled haze, your eyes darting to the side as a tall and even more gorgeous figure came in your field of vision. His eyes were focused on you and how heeseung was railing you.

Even though you wanted to hide away from his gaze, the lust filled phase your mind was in was turning you on more.

Heeseung didn't cease his movements, smirking at the spare key in sunghoon's hand, he sighed in pleasure at the way your pussy was clenching rapidly around his dick, excited at the prospect of someone watching you fuck

"little slut, she likes that you're here" he panted, folding your body in half and fastening his hips, feeling the knot in his stomach tighten.

"fuck keep clenching on me baby, I'm so fucking close" He groaned, his movements incessant, holding your hips and moving rapidly against you, harsh breaths fell from his lips, eyes focused on yours. He slotted his mouth against yours and moaned out loud, his hips stilling inside you while he filled you with his fuck cream,moaning in satisfaction.

His subtle grinds were frustrating you, needing more friction to reach your own high. Heeseung felt your hips pushing up from the bed to chase his dick and chuckled in disbelief

"you want more dick?" he asked pulling out of you with a pop and watching his thick cum leak out of your hole. You nodded, your hand moving down to circle on your clit, arching into your own touch like a literal sex hungry slut.

"fuck that's hot" sunghoon groaned and your eyes moved to him, his hand squeezed his bulge from above his pants while he watched your movements with hungry eyes. In your sex drunk haze you had forgotten he was even there. You opened your legs further, showing him what you were doing.

"You can stick it inside of her you know, bet she wants it bad" heeseung taunted at him, climbing down the bed and taking a seat on the couch across from it.

Sunghoon was scurrying to unzip his pants as soon as he understood the meaning of heeseung's words and before you knew he was settling over your body, rubbing his dick against your slit, making you bite your lower lip in anticipation of getting dicked down again.

"Where did you even find her, I thought we weren't supposed to fuck fans" He asked looking over at heeseung briefly before pushing himself inside you with a pained groan. You screamed at the sudden penetration, body squirming.

"so fucking tight" he let out through gritted teeth, snapping his hips into yours impatiently.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and arched your body into him. God he was so much bigger than heeseung, your pussy felt so full, you could already feel your high approaching.

"She's not a fan" heeseung groaned gruffly, making you glance over at him, your pussy clenched crazily upon seeing how he sat manspreading on the couch, his dick in his palm, jerking off while he watched you.

Sunghoon didn't question him further, at this point he couldn't care less about who you were, he just wanted to fuck your pussy and that's all that mattered to him.

His hands moved down to help you wrap your legs around his waist and he started thrusting inside of you, a pleasurable groan leaving him upon feeling your wet snatch

"warm and wet, she's like every guy's fucking wet dream" He grunted, his hips snapping rapidly into yours, fucking his dick into your fuck hole in a frenzy. He wasn't going to last long.

"she is isn't she, fucking slut, fuck her pussy , beat it till it's red and raw" Heeseung panted through gritted teeth, his movements fastening on his dick, squeezing his balls and sighing in the overwhelming pleasure.

"fuck yeah" sunghoon groaned and adjusted his hips to reach inside you deeper, making you moan in pleasure, incoherent words falling from your lips, you could taste your orgasm on the the tip of your tongue. "Such good pussy fuck yeah you should get paid for it" He chuckled breathlessly and you moaned at his words. No one had ever talked to you this way.

Your hips chased his dick desperately, fucking yourself back on him

"Yeah you like this don't you? - holy shit-like when men use your tight little cunt to jerk off their dicks don't u baby?" sunghoon panted on your face and you moaned, nodding your head while he pounded you into the sheets

"Cum In her hoon, fill that filthy pussy to the brim" heeseung moaned, his hips lifting off the couch as he watched your grinding bodies fucking like animals on the bed. Hot pleasure was running through his viens and he could feel himself close to another release.

"Shit yeah, so good, feels so good, yeah mhmmnfuck" sunghoon rambled burying his nose into the crook of your neck as his hips grinded into yours, feeling so close, so close, so-

A gutteral moan ripped from his throat and he was coming undone inside of your cunt,the feeling of his warm cum pushing you over the edge, moans and groans filling up the room

"fuck, fuck, fuck ugh God" Heeseung gasped, spilling his cum all over his hand and thighs, his stomach clenching and caving upon feeling such mind numbing pleasure.

Sunghoon's body fell upon yours, grinding a few times to properly fill you with his cum and then he was pulling out of your abused cunt. Groaning upon seeing the mess you were making on the sheets.

Your head lulled to the side in exhaustion, body so sore and mind so numb that you didn't even notice the flash going off as sunghoon captured the sight of your leaking pussy on his phone, saving it in his jerk off folder. He was quick to adjust his dick inside his pants and climb down the bed

"thanks man I needed that" He said and winked at heeseung. Heeseung nodded at him and watched as he left the room fully satisfied. His eyes fell on your spent and naked figure on the bed and he could feel his dick twitch in interest again. Fuck.

Before he could decide against it, he was picking up his phone and dialing jake's number

"Hello?" came jake's muffled voice from the speaker

"Come over to my room and bring Jay with you, I've got the perfect thing for you to relieve the pent up tension"

"Is it your ps5? Because I don't-

"It's a pussy"

Heeseung smiled upon hearing the instant scurrying he could hear over the speaker and he faintly heard jake calling jay's name before he hung up on him.

The night was going to be so so long.

[bombsonboard]

metal arm brrr

Summary: Every problem needs a solution. Bucky just isn't the biggest fan of yours.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Tags: Fluff in the highest degree, old married couple, Swearing (It's Bucky, duh)

A/N: I just needed to give you guys something, it's been too long since i've written on here and you guys are the best :) I've barely checked this over so I apologize for any typos.

*****

“Can you stop moving, please?” 

Bucky Barnes half asleep is not someone you want to mess with. The first time you shuffled he had hardly made a sound, the second you were met with a low grumble (a warning you knew well) and the third strike, he was thirty seconds from kicking you out of the bed. 

When Bucky had finally learnt to sleep in a bed again, mostly thanks to you, he steadily became a big fan of his beauty sleep and god help anyone who ended up disturbing him. He had a lot to catch up on. Once, you had violently shaken him awake because his phone was ringing and when he heard Sam on the other line, you were deemed a ‘sleep thief’ for a week and a half after. Bucky Barnes was a bitch when it came to his sleep. 

You usually wouldn't have any complaints about being in his vice grip but it was January and the nights were still cold and having a boyfriend with a metal arm meant that you were held to him with an ice cold grip around your waist. When the Summer came, it was a life saver, your own personal refrigerator but you still had a good few months to go before you were hanging off his arm everyday. 

“Sorry.” You mumbled and tried to convince yourself you were comfortable without another word.

Nope, can’t do it. You shift again. 

“You’re kidding- what is it?” He pulls away from you and sits up on his elbow, glaring, he dares you. “Go on.”

With the most innocent doe eyes you could muster you slip your bottom lip between your teeth and debate the argument you could spark when your gaze slips to his vibranium arm in the semi darkness.

He doesn’t miss a thing, you’ve come to realize.

“I swear if you say-”

“-It’s cold! I’m cold! It’s just too much cold!” You burst, arms flailing in desperation. 

“It’s my arm! You said you wanted to sleep on my left, this is my left arm, nothing I can do. Okay?”

“There has to be something.” You search the room for solutions, briefly lingering on the sock drawer. 

“Oh yeah, sorry, let me just take it off.” Bucky grunts, dripping with sarcasm. 

“...If you could?”

“Seriously, fuck you.” 

Bucky falls back into his beloved pillow, eyes shut and wishing he has chosen a partner that let him sleep peacefully, then again, why would he want that when you exist?

“Look, either come to the other side or deal with it.” 

Silence finally reaches your bedroom and Bucky is deeply in dreamland while you lie awake, scheming away. 

In the early hours, you slip out of bed without a sound and make a beeline for the sock drawer, knowing you had some old pairs of slipper socks stuffed at the back. Scissors in hand, you snipped off the toes and smiled at the D.I.Y leg warmers. Oh, he was gonna be mad. 

With nearly medical precision, you held out the slumbering Bucky’s arm in front of you and one by one, slid the fluffy socks up the freezing metal until it was sufficiently covered. Thanking the universe, he was a pretty heavy sleeper, you shuffled back under the covers and happily wrapped the soft arm back around your waist. 

You slept like a lamb after that.

*****

When the morning came, you woke up before him like usual and briefly left him to his own devices as you made coffee, two mugs sitting on the counter beside each other. 

Through the wall, you faintly hear the rising of the soldier before heavy footsteps quickly storm in your direction.

“The fuck is this?”

You look up to see him in the doorway, and find yourself the subject of a stare that would send millions running. Not you. The multicolored socks lined up his arm kind of softened his hoped effect and you had to stifle your laughter. 

“A solution?” You shrug.

“No.” He points at you with his flesh arm accusingly “Nu-uh. This? This is not how we solve things.”

“Is it not? I’m really digging the rainbow on you.” The giggle you had tried to push down had spilled over.

“You’re a fucking menace.” 

The giggle now a full bodied laugh that had you clutching at your chest as you were overcome with the image of your big, scary, ‘world’s most deadly assassin’ boyfriend glaring daggers at you while donning the most fluffy and most colorful socks up his arm.

Bucky was fighting a grin with all his might, your laughter was like an ugly disease, incredibly contagious, hard to avoid, and annoying.

Something soft hits you in the face and you halt your hysterics as you peer at the slipper sock now at your feet. Lifting your gaze, Bucky is smiling smugly, and working a second sock off his arm. 

“Bucky!” You yelp and duck under the counter as the rainbow sock flies in slow motion over your head. 

You probably shouldn’t poke the bear but-

“Y’know, for the best shot the United States army had ever seen you sure do miss a lot.” You taunt from your hiding spot.

When there's no response, you make a break for the couch and get shot squarely in the forehead.

“Say that again.” He dares with narrowed eyes.

“Okay, truce. Truce!” You raise your hands in surrender. 

“Say sorry for last night.” The pink ball of fluff in his hands, a deadly fate, and you’re consigned to concede

“I apologize for last night.” You sigh, approaching him with caution “Now, it’s been ten whole minutes and you still haven’t subjected me to your obscene morning breath.”

He beckons you with his head and you happily plod over, throwing your arms around his neck. The kiss is sweet, and full of promised mornings to come.

It’s welcomed by you. Until you feel the coldest thing known to man, his left arm, writhing under your shirt and sending immediate shivers down your back. 

“Bucky!” You screech and his strong laughter descends on your morning with malice.

Desperately wiggling out of his hold, you escape to the bedroom and yell from your stronghold:

“That was an act of war James Buchanan Barnes!”

[frehyun]

Backstage Fun

idol!hyunjin x afab!reader

warnings: protected sex, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, power imbalance (fan and their idol), hair pulling, nipple play, denied orgasm

genre: smut, fluff

word count: 2.5k

author's note: freya get to the point challenge failed, i feel like this is a whole lot of build up and not a lot of payoff but I still like how it turned out! second time writing smut and it's still really difficult, my respect goes out to all the regular smut writers, y'all are something else ❤️‍🩹 please let me know what you think!

this was requested by @kiki1323 and i took the creative liberty and added Redjin into the mix because. well. look at him. working on my first request was fun, so i hope i did it justice and hope you like it! <3

masterlist

divider by @strangergraphics

You are nervous. Extremely nervous. The kind of nervous where it feels like your heart is going to break through your ribs and jump right out of your chest, the poor organ hammering against its confines, the hard thumping echoing throughout your entire body, lump building inside your throat.

Never in your life would you have expected that a simple, exciting attendance at a concert would end up with you getting invited backstage by one of the artists that you adored to the moon and back.

A security guard came up to you after the concert hall had been cleared of most people, yourself still sitting there and coming down from the after-concert-adrenaline, asking if you were the ‘special guest’ invited by none other than Hwang Hyunjin himself. At first you were confused, ready to deny any mistaken identity and willing to laugh it off but then you saw the idol peeking his head out through one of the side entrances, giving you hand signals that you vaguely recognised as ‘play along, please’.

So you did.

Because if the Hyunjin said you were his special guest, then you were his special guest and nothing could stop you from playing along. Even if the part of him inviting you prior to the concert was a lie.

And that’s how you ended up here, in a backstage room that you assume must be his dressing room or something like that. It doesn’t really matter.

You nervously bite at the skin of your lips, no sight of Hyunjin so far making you even more anxious as you look around the room, desperate to find anything to occupy your mind with as you wait for him.

There wasn’t anything special about this room, just a large vanity, a table with refreshments and snacks on it and a ridiculously plushy couch that you were currently situated on, surrounded by strewn about clothes, bags and you assume some personal items that belonged to Hyunjin.

Before you could grow tired of counting how many little stones decorated the vanity across from you, the doorknob to the room turned, making your head snap towards the door.

There he was, wearing a fresh black shirt and some sweatpants, having changed out of his sweaty concert clothes, a sheepish smile on his face as he apologises politely for making you wait and closing the door behind him.

Your heart lurches right to your throat at the sight of him. He was even more gorgeous from up close, even the harsh overhead lighting couldn’t destroy the features that you were always so mesmerised by.

“I hope I didn’t make you wait too long.”

God, and his voice makes you want to kneel right down and do whatever he asked of you no questions asked.

Focus.

“Ah, no, it’s fine!”, you stammered, “what, uhm, what did I do to deserve being here?”

A mischievous smile spreads over his lips as his long legs bring him closer to you on the couch, stopping right in front of you to tower over you. He licks his lips and you think he is doing it on purpose.

“I’m going to be completely honest with you, so I hope you’ll do the same with me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you during the concert”, he begins, reaching a hand out before stopping a short distance away from touching your cheek, searching your eyes for your approval or any sign of discomfort. You swallow around the lump in your throat and nod, making his eyes soften as he moves to caress your jaw, his thumb stroking across your skin gently.

“And I know this is sudden, you can say no and leave whenever you want to, but I’d love for you to stay and we could have some fun.”

Before you can stop it, your eyes flicker down to the front of his sweats at the implication before flickering back up to his face. Hyunjin’s eyes have a knowing glint in them, as if he already knows that your answer was going to be a loud and resounding ‘yes’.

“I’ll stay” – you say, surprised at how steady your voice sounds.

He smiles down at you, taking your face properly between his two large hands. His cock twitches in his pants as you look up at him, the sight of you beneath him satisfying some deeper part of him.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.”

Hyunjin leans down to take your lips between his softly. Unsure what to do with your hands, you place them on his forearms, wanting nothing more than to just touch him anywhere you could reach. It’s still surreal to you that this was really happening, that it’s Hyunjin’s tongue making its way into your mouth, that it’s Hyunjin you taste.

He parts from you momentarily to sit down beside you on the plush couch, patting his muscular thighs as a sign for you to straddle him. There was no way you were going to refuse such a demand, so you climb on top of him and make yourself comfortable in his lap, your hands holding you steady on his broad shoulders as he grabs the back of your thighs greedily.

Not being able to hold yourself back anymore, you grab his face and capture his lips hungrily. Hyunjin seems to appreciate that, his hands sliding up your thighs to grab at your ass and his hips lifting up to grind into you, his clothed cock dragging deliciously against your core, drawing whimpers from the two of you simultaneously.

With your brain already turned into a fuzzy mess, you mindlessly keep moving your hips across his hardening length, desperate for any kind of friction against your pussy. He groans against your lips, his hand finding its way underneath your shirt and squeezing breast.

“Hyunjin…” – you moan and slide your hands across his chest, grazing his nipples and making him let out a whimper.

He rids himself of his shirt before moving to slide yours off your body, hastily discarding it alongside your bra.

In a sudden movement, he moves you to lay down on the couch while he kneels above you, his hands already fiddling with the zipper of your pants as he rids you of the offending garment as well.

“Beautiful” – he breathes and his fingers lightly press into the fabric of your already dampened panties, lazily stroking up and down, much to your chagrin, whining and bucking your hips into his hand.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” – his red hair was slightly falling over his face, framing it, as he sits back on his haunches to observe you. The outline of his dick straining against his sweats isn’t lost on you and you have half a mind to reach out to take him into your hand.

“Want you…”

He chuckles and hooks his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties to pull them down your legs. His long digits find your folds immediately, spreading your wetness around, his fingertips playing with your sensitive clit as you grow wetter for him, small wanton moans spilling from your lips for him.

Desperate to please him, your fingers wrap around his dick through his sweats, squeezing the head slightly.

He huffs out a breath at your touch. Hyunjin originally planned to drag this out as long as he could, wanting to blow off some steam but he grows increasingly more needy the longer you writhe underneath him so sweetly.

Some of his desperation seeps through to his actions, as he pushes two of his fingers into you, fucking them in and out of you at a rough pace.

“Are you gonna be all mine for today? Hm?” - Hyunjin says, his free hand spreading your legs further so he can slot his body between them while working his other hand at your core, bringing you closer to your high.

“Yes! All yours, Hyunjin!”

He smiles at your admission, withdrawing his fingers from your pussy right before the knot in your stomach snaps. You whine pathetically at being denied, your hips chasing his hand in a desperate attempt to get him back where you want him most.

“Sit up” – he orders and rids himself of his sweats and boxers, his cock slapping heavily against his belly. He pumps himself a few times as you oblige his demands. He doesn’t even need to ask any further for you to lean down and wrap your lips around his cock, sucking at the head eagerly. He moans loudly at the feeling, taking your hair into his hand in a makeshift ponytail as you take him deeper into your mouth.

You moan around him when he hits the back of your throat, your tongue moving at the underside of him.

“You’re taking me so well, princess. I can’t wait to be inside you and show you a good time” – his praise goes straight to your core and you moan around his length.

Hyunjin’s hips meet your every move in tandem before he curses and pulls you hastily off of him. You cannot help but think Hyunjin looks absolutely divine with that ravenous and fucked out look on his face. Something inside you twists when you think about how after tonight, you’ll probably never experience something like this again.

If Hyunjin notices you momentarily wincing at the less than fun thoughts invading your head, he doesn’t acknowledge it.

He pushes his sweaty hair back, your eyes lingering on how the motion makes the muscles of his arm stand out. You can’t help but notice that most of his sweat seems to be tinted red by his hair and it makes him seem even more irresistible, your fingers itching to test out if they would come back stained red if you card them through his hair.

Seemingly getting some of his sense back, he reaches to grab a condom from one of the bags laying about and you can’t help but wonder whether he planned on getting laid tonight. It wouldn’t surprise you. You’re here after all.

After making a show of ripping the package open with his teeth that made you dramatically roll your eyes at him and earning a chuckle from him, he rolls it on and crawls between your legs.

“Ready for the real show, sweetheart?”

You nod your head at him and hook your legs around his hips, wiggling closer to him. As he leans over you, his cock presses against your wet cunt.

Hyunjin’s patience to be inside you has worn thin, so he slides himself in in one fluid motion of his hips, making you gasp and dig your nails into his shoulders.

“You feel so good, angel. So wet, just for me” – he moans as his eyes flutter shut at the feeling of you around him. His cock drags deliciously against your walls as he starts fucking you in earnest, setting a fast pace, eager to get you two off.

“Mhm, just for you, Hyunjin!”

You pull him down to you to capture his lips in a passionate, wet kiss, holding his face in place and roughly tangling your hand into his hair, pulling at the strands as he pounds into you from above, groaning at the soft pain on his scalp. You try to burn how he tastes, how he sounds and how his skin feels beneath your skin into your mind so you’ll never forget this moment.

His thrusts become desperate ruts as he nears his high, his lips finding your neck in sloppy, wet kisses and bites.

“Y/N”, he wimpers into your ear, one hand entwining his fingers with yours, “I need you to come for me.” His unoccupied hand finds your clit, rubbing at it hastily.

You let go and your orgasm finds you quickly at his words, your body arching into his, legs clamping up around him, as he fucks you through it, chasing his own release as your walls clench around him.

“Fuck!” – his hips stutter as he spills his seed into the condom, squeezing his eyes shut and riding out his high.

When his thighs stop shaking against yours, you bring your hand up to gently move some of his hair out of his face, tucking the strand behind his ear. Your hand stays cradled against his jaw as he peers down at you, a slight smile on his lips.

You don’t remember if he was this flushed before but he certainly is now and it’s kind of endearing.

He slips out of you to get rid of the condom, making you whimper at the loss. You don’t really know what to do, if he wants you to get up and leave immediately or if he would rather you stay, so you stay frozen in your decision and don’t move an inch from where he left you.

In your rising nervousness, you start picking at your hands again and stop momentarily to amusedly realise that your hands are indeed slightly stained red from pulling at his hair. Something about it calms your heart again.

He comes back dressed in his boxers, phone and some wipes in hand. It’s a bit awkward when he cleans you up, you’re embarassed and try to look anywhere that isn’t him.

“No need to feel embarassed about this, angel. I really enjoyed my time with you” – Hyunjin says softly, caressing your cheek softly and turning your face towards him. He’s smiling at you, that cute stingray smile where his eyes disappear and you suddenly want to cry with all these emotions swirling around in your chest.

“I did, too”, you murmur, “uhm, can you pass me some of my clothes? I’ll get dressed and then I can get out of your hair. You must be exhausted after the concert and… all of this.”

He tilts his head at you but complies, helping you dress. He doesn’t pass you your jeans.

“Stay” – he says quietly as he pulls your shirt over your head, straightening it out, it’s long enough to at least cover your panties.

“What?”

“Stay. Let’s cuddle”, he smiles shyly, “I could use some more aftercare than whatever this was.”

“I-… Okay.”

He huffs a laugh as he climbs over you onto the couch, leaning back against the cushions and pulling you into his chest.

“Don’t worry, nobody’s gonna come barging in, I made sure of that. Besides, we can shower later” – he explains and his hand runs over your spine soothingly as you lay your head on his chest to listen to his steady heartbeat.

“I’d also like for this to not be the only time we see each other, if you’re okay with that. We can exchange numbers. I know we kind of have it all backwards, starting off like this and you being a fan and all but I’d like to get to know you properly, no weird power imbalance between us, just two people meeting up for a date.”

You couldn’t believe your ears, the heat rushing back to your face as you became redder at his words.

“I’d like that” – you happily answer him and he lets out a relieved sigh.

The two of you talk about idle things before Hyunjin drifts off to sleep first, leaving you awake in his warm embrace.

Listening to his soft breathing, you think to yourself that accepting Hyunjin’s proposal was one of the better decisions you’ve made lately and sigh contently, letting tiredness wash over your limbs and slumber take you, hoping that this was the beginning of something more than a short encounter.

[fastandcarlos]

On Cloud Nine : ̗̀➛ Carlos Sainz

summary: your hundreds of miles away when you get the call, desperate to be at carlos’ bedside as soon as possible

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by carlossainz55, ybffusername and 593,606 others

ynusername: new york, new york 🗽🍏

39,403 comments

carlossainz55: I miss you so much, hurry up home! 🩷

username1: these photos look amazing, new york is definitely my dream one day

charles_leclerc: hope you’re having the best time, btw carlos is definitely lost without you

carmenmmundt: I can’t wait to hear all about this when I see you next ☺️

username2: next time take me with you omg

landonorris: you’ll go anywhere to get away from carlos won’t you?? 😂

ynusername: @/landonorris don’t spoil all my secrets 🤫

carlossainz55: @/ynusername it all makes sense now 😂

username3: wow new york looks insane yn 🤩

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ynusername posted two stories

caption 1: get me home asap!!

caption 2: 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 738,504 others

ynusername: hi everyone, with carlos’ permission I wanted to share with you all that his operation this morning was successful and he’s recovering well. he also asked me to post a nice photo of him with this to remind you all just how handsome he actually he is 😂

I’m exhausted from rushing here, but just glad to be by his side as he starts the road to recovery 💞

78,503 comments

username4: sending carlos so much love - thank you for the update yn 🫶🏻

username5: poor carlos 😭😭

landonorris: tell me he still looks as handsome as ever to me!

maxverstappen1: get plenty of rest and see you back on the track carlos!

username6: only carlos would still care about his appearance despite being minutes out of surgery

username7: I’m just glad yn was there to be by his side for when he woke up 💞

username8: he’s got the best partner there to take care of him 🥰

alexandrasaintmleux: you guys know where I am if you need anything ❤️❤️

pierregasly: imo he’s never looked better 😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by danielricciardo, ynusername and 2,492,505 others

carlossainz55: thanks for all the support guys, pleased to say all is good and I’m recovering well so far. gutted to miss the race but I’ll be back on the track soon! biggest thanks goes to yn for dropping everything and travelling halfway around the world to be here with me - she makes a brilliant nurse 💕😂

103,592 comments

username9: how do you manage to look so good even whilst in hospital??

username10: we’re so pleased to see you’re on the mend carlos, take all the time you need 🥰

landonorris: stop flashing your stomach for sympathy 😂😂

username11: that looks so painful, hope you’re okay carlos!!

danielricciardo: made of tough stuff bro, see you real soon!

charles_leclerc: it’s not the same without you here 😭😭

carlossainz55: @/charles_leclerc do me proud my friend ❤️

username12: it breaks my heart seeing these photos

ynusername: couldn’t have timed this better, could you? 😂 just glad that you’re on the mend, ily 💞

carlossainz55: @/ynusername only thanks to you and the care that you give me 🩷

username13: don’t rush, take your time, your fans will wait for you!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by pierregasly, carmenmmundt and 893,201 others

ynusername: carlos being at home resting has its perks 🥞🤩

39,124 comments

username14: stfu I’m so jealous

carlossainz55: you’re lucky I’ve got all this free time on my hands ❤️

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 turns out there are some perks to having your appendix taking out 😂

charles_leclerc: I’m already omw save some for me!!!

username15: welcome back boyfriend carlos aesthetic 🫶🏻

username16: all I want is to taste just one of carlos’ pancakes one day

alex_albon: next time we double date these have to me on the menu

ynusername: @/alex_albon there won’t be any complaints from me

username17: I’m happy to third wheel this date night btw

username18: THEYRE JUST SO FLUFFY

username19: @/username18 the pancakes or the hair???

username18: @/username19 EVERYTHING 😭

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 1,859,120 others

carlossainz55: back on the course doing what I love, an easy eighteen holes 🏌🏻⛳️

49,604 comments

ynusername: um I don’t think this is quite what the consultant meant when he said easy exercise 🤔

carlossainz55: @/ynusername what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him!!

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 can’t wait to throw you under the bus at your next appointment 😂

username20: we always knew it wouldn’t be long before carlos was back playing golf

landonorris: if yn is that worried about you, I guess next time I’ll just have to come with you…to look after you ofc

carlossainz55: @/landonorris I’m supposed to be taking it easy, you stress me out 😂

username21: poor yn must be so stressed looking after carlos

charles_leclerc: of all the sports you choose to go and play golf 🙂‍↔️

username22: imagine telling one of the most active people in the world that they have to rest

username23: counting down the days until he’s back out on his bike 😬

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by alex_albon, ynusername and 1,695,207 others

carlossainz55: back to full power soon, stepping up the recovery and fully focused on being back in the car soon 💪🏻

50,402 comments

username24: gym photos of carlos never get old

username25: and there he is back on the bike again 😂

ynusername: hmmm this looks more like the exercise you’re supposed to be doing 🙄

carlossainz55: @/ynusername 😂💞🤫

username26: if you need something to lift I’m happy to offer my services

landonorris: damn you’re putting me to shame sharing these carlos 😂

username27: I actually just squealed in excitement seeing these, now everyone’s staring at me

username28: yn is one lucky lucky girl wtf

alex_albon: ffs stop showing off how ripped you are

georgerussell63: at least go all the way and take the shirt off jeez

carlossainz55: @/georgerussell63 not all of us are as vain as you!!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, charles_leclerc and 2,403,705 others

carlossainz55: I should have more operations if this is what happens 😂 so proud to be p1 in aus, thank you for all the support ❤️🏎️

103,392 comments

username29: you’re a machine, we’re so proud of you!!

landonorris: booking an appointment to get my appendix taken out as we speak 🫡

username30: how do you do it??

ynusername: words fail me…you’re just the best 🫶🏻💞

username31: proud is an understatement to describe how I feel about this

danielricciardo: hats off to you sir that was one hell of a drive

charles_leclerc: I never realised I actually had a superhero for a teammate 😂

username32: this is the least you deserve after what you’ve been through

username33: to race like that whilst still in pain just blows my mind

maxverstappen1: huge congrats carlos, one hell of a race 💪🏻

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 792,032 others

ynusername: on cloud nine ☁️ after the trickiest couple of weeks you come back and pull this outta the bag - I’m so proud of you my love! 🩷

27,493 comments

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[mrs-weasley-reid]

TRICKY BLUNDER

Spencer Reid x exbau!reader ↳ part 1 here

Synopsis: Mistakes always reveal what the heart really craves. And Spencer wasn't an exception as he desperately makes things right with you. Word Count: almost 4k WARNING: a sprinkle of angst and a cup of fluff. a few curse words. A/N: had two drafts, but this made the most sense in my head. not my gif ctto :)

You gave Spencer a curt nod, "Hey."

Spencer's chest tinged at the sight of your smile. The kind of smile that gave him the impression that you two were absolutely fine and back to normal.

Hotch invited you to assist on the case that's been keeping the entire BAU team stressed out for the past three days. He thought you'd be a great help in increasing the team's morale and, of course, on the case.

Spencer took your arrival as a good sign. It has only been a month since you left the BAU. Maybe you'd change your mind and come back to the team. Besides, you wouldn't have joined them if you were still mad at him, right?

He thought he was getting ahead of himself. He knew he was getting ahead of himself. Taking the tiniest detail of your simple nod and civil smile into a desperate hope.

Your last exchange has been eating Spencer alive. The fallout repeatedly played out inside his head over and over in hopes that he could change the ending. He couldn't. Even an average person knew that they could never change what's been done.

You, on the other hand, did not dwell on your interaction with Spencer. In fact, as soon as you gave him some sort of acknowledgment, you immediately jumped in on a conversation with Emily. You were only being polite. It was in your nature.

If you were given the chance to boast, you would've said Hotch was almost begging you to help with the case. But you kept the idea to yourself and arrived with fresh sets of eyes. After all, the case specifically needed your specialty: human trafficking and victimology.

And fresh sets of eyes, you did bring.

While the others were occupied giving you a warm welcome, an arm suddenly wrapped around your shoulders, taking everyone by surprise, Spencer the most.

"I barely found parking," A man said to you in almost a whisper but loud enough for everyone to hear and gawk about.

Your eyebrows narrowed, "You're an FBI agent. How hard could it be to show your badge and get a spot?" You queried, forgetting about an entire team right in front of you.

The man grinned, "I wanted to prove I could find a spot without my toy." He spoke with you with such ease, as if you've known each other for years.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. If you only weren't in public, you would've smacked your forehead from the utter disbelief you felt. That's when you remembered that it wasn't just the two of you.

"Oh, shoot! I mean…" You gestured at the man next to you, "Guys, meet Agent Ezekiel." You went on to briefly explain that you offered Hotch another pair of hands to help with the case, thus the agent's appearance.

Although you were clear about Ezekiel's purpose, everyone couldn't help but take note of his arm around you. The only man they saw wrap their arm around your shoulders was Emily during an undercover operation, where she pretended to be a guy.

Spencer was not a fan.

"And Zeke, meet the behavioral analysis unit. Agents Hotchner, Rossi, Jareau, Prentiss, Morgan, and… Dr. Reid." You introduced them accordingly, paying attention to each one of the agents.

"Mr. Genius! Nice to finally meet you! I've heard so much about you." Ezekiel exclaimed, stretching a hand out to Spencer.

Spencer stared at the hand in front of him, "Clearly not enough." He lifted his hands out of his back pockets only to transfer them to the front pockets. "And it's Dr. Reid."

He couldn't help but shift his focus between you and the obnoxious arm on your shoulders. He wasn't exactly certain why he was feeling that way. He guessed it had something to do with the fact that he didn't get the chance to speak with you.

Ezekiel looked at his hand and retracted it with a shrug. He leaned against you, "You said he was fun." His face was of pure confusion.

You lightly shoved his face away from you, removing his arm on your shoulders in the process. "I promise, he's more helpful than he looks." You had the mistake of looking at Spencer as you spoke with a playful smile, immediately diverting your gaze to anyone else but him.

The reflexive habit was still present. You always had a knack for aiming for Spencer's approval of your humor. After years of trying to make him laugh in spite of feeling depressed about Maeve, adjusting your humor to align with his became second nature.

Spencer found himself smiling a bit at the millisecond of attention you gave him. He missed it. He missed you.

If the universe was giving him a sign, you standing in front of him was one big slap of a sign. This was his chance to make things right with you.

He'd do anything to make it up to you.

His first attempt was to join any conversation you had with anyone on the team. He tried. He really tried to get your attention, but somehow, before he could even breathe a word out, Ezekiel pops out of nowhere and takes up all your attention.

"Why can't you do it yourself?" You groaned yet stood up from your seat. Spencer wished you didn't.

Ezekiel ruffled your hair, "Less complaining, more doing. You lost the bet, remember?" He laughed, leaning against his seat.

Derek swore he saw Spencer's eye twitch inside out after seeing Ezekiel ruffle your hair.

You stomped out of the conference room, mumbling, "Stupid bet," under your throat.

"You would've beaten Morgan up if he asked you the same thing."

You jumped out of shock, spilling a bit of the hot water on the counter. Spencer followed you out, standing awkwardly next to you. You silently wiped the water off the counter and quickly stirred the cup.

With one last tap of the spoon on the edge of the cup, you turned to Spencer, "Just be glad it wasn't you." You deadpanned, walking away without giving him the chance to say a word.

First attempt: failed.

You clearly weren't in the mood to speak with him, especially when you hadn't gotten your usual coffee. You hated precinct coffee to the bone. Thus, you tortured yourself from lack of caffeine and exhaustion.

This sparked Spencer's second attempt to gain your friendship back: offer you coffee. Your coffee order has been in the back of his mind for the past month. It turns out he liked your odd coffee concoction after finding himself with two cups of coffee every morning the first two weeks you were gone.

The first two days were purely out of habit. The rest were out of the delusion that you'd be sitting on your old desk when he gets in the office.

So, he could only imagine the dejection when you arrived the next morning with an unfamiliar coffee order and bright laughter as you told Ezekiel how his coffee order had changed your life for the better.

Spencer constantly expressed his disapproval. Of course, you weren't happy about it. What was worse was you didn't know why. And worse than that, he couldn't figure out why.

Or so he thought.

As soon as he found an opening, Spencer pulled you into the side. He brought the two of you into an empty interrogation room.

"What are you doing?" You snatched your arm from his grip. You weren't stupid. You noticed Spencer's fixation for your attention. You did your best to be civil, but he was making it very difficult for you.

"You've barely been in the ViCAP unit, and you're already smitten with your superior. I think it's safe to say it does not look good on you. You don't even know whether he's a decent guy." Spencer gulped. He knew exactly how stupid he sounded.

You blinked loudly and chuckled, "So?"

Spencer straightened his back and averted his eyes away from yours, "So… I suggest you…" He trailed off. He didn't plan this far. He should've planned farther than this. It wasn't exactly very clever of him, and your glare made him dumb.

"Suggest me what?" You crossed your arms on your chest. When Spencer didn't speak for fifteen seconds, you continued, "You have no right to tell me what looks good for me. Or anything about me. You made that pretty clear, Reid. Stick with it."

You purposely bumped into his shoulder on your way out, leaving him dumbfounded and dry-mouthed.

His chest felt tight as if a hand was clenching it into the tiniest crumple of paper. He closed his eyes in agony as he whispered, "Damn it," running his fingers through his hair.

With the 187 IQ he's been bragging about, he couldn't imagine his own disappointment when he failed to realize his feelings for you.

You have been nothing but kind to him. When he was grieving, you were the only one he wanted to confide in. You were the only one who could make him smile. The only one who could make him laugh with an average humor. The one that made painful things less miserable.

And without him knowing, he fell for your kind smiles and warm company.

He became addicted to you.

Spencer did his best to avoid it, but he couldn't help himself. How could someone not fall for someone amazing like you? Clearly not him.

Your friendship felt more important to him, though. It always was. It was too important that he spent his time finding a fix for his infatuation. Shoving his growing feelings for you as if it were a crime.

But you just couldn't let him not fall for you. You didn't even try. You were just you, and he was just one of your willing victims. It was inevitable.

The deeper he fell for you, the more he wanted not to.

He was a weakling, a stupid coward, and irrevocably in love with you.

So, was he disappointed that you fell for the genius prodigy? Or was he disappointed that he never realized how deep he'd fallen for you until you left?

The next day was Spencer's worst nightmare.

You were at gunpoint.

Close and yet so far.

"Come any closer, and I'll shoot her!" The unsub shouted, holding you by the neck with his arm wrapped around it.

Spencer felt his hands clammy. You were too close to the unsub for him to find an opening. Backup was still a few minutes away. He didn't know what to do.

He took a deep breath, "No one needs to get hurt. Just let her go, and we can talk this out." He kept his gun pointed at the unsub.

He made sure you knew that. He never wanted you to think that he'd ever point a gun at you, even if you weren't already.

The unsub's grip tightened around your neck, and you could barely manage to let out a gasp. Tears began to spill from your eyes as air dissipated from your lungs. Your consciousness was hanging by a thread.

"Shut the hell up!" The unsub shifted the tip of his gun towards Spencer. He glanced at you and at Spencer's pleading face. He laughed, "If you let me go, I'll make sure someone rich buys her. You don't have to worry. I'll make sure they treat her well."

"Don't!" You choked, "Don't listen to him, Spence!" You were stammering, almost unable to form words.

Hearing you call him by his first name for the first time in a while gave Spencer a concussion. A string of déjà vu coursed through his body. Spencer was more terrified than he already was. He couldn't lose you again. He couldn't go through it again.

You could see it in his eyes. You knew that look from miles away. You've seen the same look etched in the deepest vault in your mind. The only thing was, you never imagined that you'd ever be the reason for it.

And just as you always have… you chose him.

You focused on his brown eyes. You took a deep breath and met Spencer's gaze, "Take the blunder."

His eyes widened. He felt his heart quicken. Spencer vigorously shook his head, tightening his grip on his gun.

After spending time together in his gloomy apartment, you and Spencer found enjoyment in playing chess. A few phrases stuck to heart, inside jokes that filled both of you with mindless giggles.

What used to be a funny term turned into something Spencer feared the most at that moment.

You were asking him to shoot you.

"No! I won't do that!" Spencer shouted, shaking his head to the point of dizziness. There must be another way. He needed to find another way to save you.

"What the fuck are you two talking about?!" The unsub pointed the gun back at your temple. This time, he made sure you felt the cold metal on your skin.

Both you and Spencer knew that the unsub was too far gone to be reasonable. Your plan was the only plan that'd work. He had to shoot you and let the bullet through to hit the unsub down. Of course, it wasn't a perfect one.

But it'd save many lives and his, and you were content with that idea alone. Except Spencer wasn't.

You closed your eyes, "Spencer, do it!" You begged, suffocating. "Take the fucking blunder! Now!"

Spencer didn't notice his watery eyes, fixing his vision solely on you. His hands were shaking. His body was ice cold. He could hear you and your fading breath. He aimed his gun at your shoulder, steadying his stance.

A bright flash and two loud strikes prompted you and the unsub to fall to the floor.

Hotch came into view across Spencer, pointing his gun to where the unsub used to chokehold you.

Spencer flew to your side, taking you in his arms as sobs spilled out of his lips. "No, no, no, no. Not again, no. Please, no." He brushed the hair off your face, holding your cheek.

A chuckle curved the ends of your lips, "You're a horrible shot." Your eyes were still closed as you felt a small sting on your shoulder grow as it bled out.

His breath hitched. Spencer chuckled a cry as he pulled you into a hug. It was so tight and yet gentle enough to let you catch your breath. "I thought I was going to lose you," He whispered. You never thought Spencer would ever hug you tighter than he already was. "I didn't— I don't want to lose you."

Soon, Spencer had to let you go as the paramedics came to your aid. They dragged you out where everyone waited in anticipation.

Ezekiel was the first to run to you, "You alright?" He replaced Spencer's spot on your side.

"I'll live," you shrugged, regretting it immediately as you felt a painful shock travel from your shoulder. You cursed under your breath.

"Stop moving, dumbass." Ezekiel scolded, turning to the paramedics and asking them if there was any way he could help.

Spencer felt empty at the sight. His heart shattered at the sight of someone else taking care of you. But compared to Ezekiel, he had no chance. And it broke Spencer even more.

But that didn't mean he couldn't try to befriend you.

So he chose friendship. He always did, after all.

He visited you the next morning, the first one to arrive as soon as visiting hours began.

"Hey," Spencer flashed a thin smile.

You placed the book you were reading down on your lap, returning his smile, "Hey."

This time, Spencer knew you weren't just being polite. It made his heart swell from relief. He still had a chance to make things right.

He walked inside the room, placing a small bouquet of white daisies on the bedside table. Spencer pointed at your book, "I have a book just like that." He started, attempting to make casual conversation.

"It's actually yours," You flipped the pages, revealing thousands of annotations. You only knew one person who did that. "It was my favorite. I couldn't let it go…" You gently wiped the cover.

George Orwell's 1984 novel was the first book Spencer ever lent you. As you packed your stuff from your old desk, you couldn't help but pick up one book to keep.

Spencer looked around, "Where's Agent Ezekiel?" He wondered out loud. Maybe too loud. The name rolled off his tongue with subtle disgust. He felt conflicted about the guy's absence from your side but was also relieved that he got to have you to himself.

"He's talking to my aunt," You replied nonchalantly, refraining yourself from shrugging.

His eyebrows furrowed, "Your aunt? Don't you mean your mom?"

You shook your head, looking at him oddly. "Last I heard, Zeke's my cousin, not my brother."

Spencer's eyebrows lifted over his forehead, "Ah, right. Yeah, that'd be weird…" He gave his best to sound casual while he internally screamed in his head. If only he could do a somersault without breaking every bone in his body and looking stupid, he would.

"Imagine the horror," You scoffed, bringing the book up to continue reading.

He watched you silently for a moment. He never knew why he thought a friend was all he was ever going to see you as. It must be the stupidest idea he's ever had.

Spencer bit his lower lip, his hands clenched on the side of your bed, "I—" He bit his tongue, unsure how to continue or how to start.

You turned to him with raised eyebrows, "Hmm? D'you say something?" You closed the book, giving him all the attention he has been dying to get for the past week.

"I—uh…" He swallowed the lump in his throat, "I know it's way too late to say this, but," Spencer wet his lips and met your gaze, "I'm sorry for being a jerk and—"

"It's okay, Spence," You smiled, cutting him off. "I did throw my feelings at you out of nowhere, so I kind of understand—"

Spencer cut you off, "Still doesn't it make it right for me to be an asshole. It's not like you—"

You shook your head, "But I was being unreasonable. I had no right to stop you from—"

It was like a game. Both of you kept cutting each other off like an indecisive scale.

Spencer couldn't take it anymore and grabbed your face, giving you a quick, soft kiss on your lips. "Just shut up for a second…" His breath fanned on your face, "Please…" He rested his forehead on yours and began to speak as soon as he felt you nod. "I'm sorry for being a jerk. I'm sorry for reacting like a coward. And I'm sorry for being stupid." He spoke in a rush as if he knew you'd talk over him as soon as you had the chance to.

"I'm sorry I said I was disappointed in you. I made a blunder…" You laughed at his joke. "I thought if I turned you down, I'd never have to worry about losing you. I was obviously wrong." He playfully rolled his eyes, only widening your grin. "I was falling for you, and I chickened out—"

You felt giddy. You couldn't stop the grin on your face. Your eyes couldn't help but stare at his lips. You did your best to listen to his sweet words, but damn were you easily distracted by him.

Apologies after apologies, sweet words after sappy sentiments. You grew too impatient. He was talking too much.

"Spencer, just say you love me and kiss me," You interjected, pulling his shirt to get him closer.

He laughed softly. A sound that made your heart skip a beat. He caressed your cheek with his thumb, tilting your head higher.

"I love you… I'm in love with you."

Spencer felt so good to finally admit it: to you and to himself. He pulled you in once more and kissed you again, longer this time.

He couldn't get enough of it, enough of you. He only pulled away when a nurse came in to check on you, blushing like a red beet.

Not a second after, his phone rang. The team was looking for him and wondering where he was, emphasizing the fact that they were to fly in forty minutes.

Spencer went back into the room, low-spirited. He didn't want to leave you just yet. You had barely forgiven him, and he barely knocked some sense into his stubborn head. He wanted to stay and make up for the month he'd missed.

But duty calls, so he sat silently as the jet took off the runway, fiddling with the loose string on his cuff. A snapping sound pulled him out of his trance.

"Reid," Derek called out as he sat on the left seat across Spencer. "How'd it go?" Derek queried.

"How'd what go?" Spencer's eyebrows raised. What could Derek possibly mean?

Derek looked at him as if Spencer was crazy, "You said you'd go to the hospital to get your migraine checked out. Is everything alright?"

JJ heard their conversation, turning on her seat, "Didn't you get checked out last week? Is it getting worse?" She worriedly asked, joining the discussion.

Spencer's ears turned pink as he quickly glanced at JJ, "Y-yeah... I mean, no. I'm fine." He stuttered, clearing his throat.

Emily squinted at the boy genius' stutter. She wasn't as smart as him, but she knew him well enough to know when he was lying. "Which hospital did you go to?" She raised her eyebrows.

"The... one on..." Spencer wasn't prepared to take the hot seat. His mind was still clouded by the thought of you. It was like he was under the influence, unable to get his head straight.

"The one where she's staying?" Emily prompted.

"Yeah, the one where she's staying—wait who?" Spencer was taken aback.

Emily grinned, catching a glimpse of a purple hue on Spencer's skin hiding behind his collar. "I think he's fine," She told JJ and Derek. He looked at Spencer, "You're fine, right?"

Spencer hesitantly nodded his head.

Derek's eyebrows knitted, "What are you on about?" He turned to Emily, who was sitting next to him.

"When you're stressed out, what do you usually do?" Emily raised her hand before letting Derek answer, "With Savannah." She smirked.

"Damn, Prentiss. I didn't know you were that curious about my sex life." Derek replied sarcastically.

"No," Emily smacked her forehead. She decided not to explain herself any further. She looked at the genius across him, "So, how is she?" When Spencer gave her a confused look, she rolled her eyes, "Oh, please. Stop acting like you didn't just make out with her."

Spencer looked down and giggled silently. Busted. It was your fault, really. Before he left, you made sure to turn his frown upside down and did it so well that his mind was malfunctioning from the memory of your lips, leaving marks on his chest.

"She's fine. The doctor said she'd be able to fly home in a few days." Spencer replied giddily.

Emily smirked, "Yeah, I bet she's fine, alright." She pointed at Spencer's tie, enough hint for Derek and JJ to catch up in the conversation.

"My man," Derek's grinned.

JJ's eyes widened, and her mouth was slightly agape. "So, are you two made up?"

Spencer nodded, "Yeah... just a tricky blunder."

reid masterlist | masterlist