#get him brown contacts THIS INSTANT

[maplezbacon]

[icekkeugf]

pairing: prof!heeseung x volleyball player!reader

genre: porn without much plot

warnings: heeseung is reader's professor but neither of them know that when they engage in sexual activity, slight dom!hee, kissing, cunnilingus against the wall, blowjob, boobjob, facial, use of the petname "pretty girl"

wordcount: 2,790 words

note: koko is back ~~~ i am not sure if this is up to mark but i really hope enhablr enjoys this! reblogs are much appreciated and so are comments/feedback! happy reading ♥︎ ~~~

it's raining, soft droplets sprinkling over your already wet skin, soaking in sweat as you huff, doubling over to place your palms over your knees. slippery, it is, palms sliding down the smooth of your knees as you try your best to contain your breath, composing yourself when you notice your teammates pass by. "so, y/n, excited for the shift into university?" your volleyball captain asks, prompting you to wince. this causes concern, her brow raising and her wrist lifting to rest on your shoulders, "not a good time?" she sympathises.

"just a bit scary, not too sure how i will mingle with the people there and if i will join a team as good as ours." you mutter, playing with your stretchable wristband. the girl laughs, patting your shoulder painfully hard with a smile, "hey, your university is known for its sports department! i wouldn't put it past me to find a well equipped club and carefully handpicked members. who knows, you might make it national!" she reasons, patting the top of your head with a crooked smile.

you try not to make eye contact with the man as he introduces himself and shares his email with the students for future assistance. however, when you look up to sneak a glance at him again, you see him staring right at you, wide eyed. you're fucked and not quite literally.

"say what, are you free tonight?" she asks, looking over at the other teammates with a sneaky smile. and when you look up dazed with a slight nod, she's dragging you over to seat you on the nearest bench. "i sent you a text, be there at 7! bye, y/n!" just like that, all your teammates trickle out the training ground, snickering amongst themselves to have finally caught you in a trap, always having refused to meet them outside training.

7:06PM. still waiting, feet nearly cramped up in those narrow toothed stilettos. bad idea to show up in stilettos after vigorous training? yes, but, the location your captain had forwarded had a strict dress code to adhere to this night. right as you bend over to adjust your heels, you're met with the vision of several pairs of similar looking stilettos. "there! early as always, our y/n, let's go in!" one of your teammates urges you inside a shady looking building.

you're met with instant chaos, loud and blaring music sinking into your eardrums, the bass making the floor vibrate and your heart thump in rhythm to the music. "stay right here, tia and i will get us all some drinks!" you're left by some of your other teammates you're not too close with, merely acquaintances that play volleyball together, you'd say. excusing yourself with a smile despite being met with "they asked us to wait here!", you shake your head, reassuring them you'll be fine and right back.

it's a few minutes later that you find yourself seated by the secluded island of what seems to be a kitchen. "a house party." you figure out, still unsure if you should've placed blind faith in your captain and teammates. "not your usual scene?" comes a voice prodding its way beside you. you jump, just a little, turning around to meet hazel brown eyes that crinkle mischief at you. the man before you is donning an all denim fit, it makes you wonder if he's not close to blushing red in this humidity but you let it pass. "not really. i assume this is your usual scene though." you quip back, the man before you throwing his head back in a silent giggle.

"heeseung." he extends his hand which you take a little hesitantly. it's not long after you exchange names that you find yourself introduced to heeseung's friends, all of them welcoming and sweet, out of which, jay confirms himself to be the party host. both heeseung and you don't stray too far into private lives of eachother, maybe that is what attracts you to him, the mystery. you can't deny that he is more than decent looking, plump pink lips, doe looking eyes that may otherwise fool you into thinking he carries this weirdly sinister vibe. a sharp jawline too, you're almost sure he knows he serves a face that women and men would line up for alike.

the attraction, though, is mutual. or so, heeseung convinces you to think as his fingertips meet your satin clad hips with ease and familiarity. he leads you towards the same secluded corner, "dance with me?" he asks and you oblige, not questioning why it has to be here, infact, you're glad it's here rather than in the midst of sweaty teenage bodies that are not yet ripe enough to enter parties like this. what snaps you back to reality is his hands, that need no permission as it follows a trail circling your hips, pulling you flush against his.

maybe it's the alcohol that heeseung offered before or maybe it's the intimate proximity you two keep dancing around but the heat in the air, whether the temperature or the tension, is palpable, almost shocking in a way that it sends hot sparks down your spine. resting your head against his shoulder, you wrap an arm around him, his warm, intoxicated breath fanning over your ears. no words exchanged, really, just the synced beating of your hearts and need to feel eachother up that finally has heeseung snapping.

exhaling shakily, you nod when he asks to take you somewhere else. he's gentle as he encloses your wrist in his palm, pulling you towards the stairs that was strictly prohibited for others. perks of being jay's best friend, you reckon. the moment you enter an unoccupied room, his lips are on yours before he pulls away in a jiffy, panic settling onto his face, "is that okay, y/n?" when you nod meekly, he shuts his eyes for just a second, muttering a "fuck" under his breath before he's pushing his lips onto yours and maneuvring your body behind until your backside meets the wall. "so pretty," he murmurs into the kiss.

you roll your hips involuntarily into his, it has heeseung gritting his teeth, jaw slack and eyes purely filled with desire. "just like that, baby, do that again—you listen so well to me, pretty girl." heeseung is sure he's rambling by now, oh, he definitely is as he tells you how to rut against him pathetically. the sultry lighting of the room only enhances your need for one another, you've never felt the urge to ravage someone like this before and you know you have to ravage heeseung before this night ends if you don't want to wake up the next morning with a guilty and regret filled heart.

he coaxes your lips to meet his again, this time the contact utterly messy and just downright filthy. you can almost taste the very remnants of his drink from earlier if you shoved your tongue down just a little deeper. meanwhile, heeseung is quick in feeling you up, pushing at your knees, "spread 'em, baby, that's it," he begs, instantly losing all self control and falling to his knees when you whine, asking him to ease the ache between your legs. "wider...there you go, atta girl." he praises, soft hands cupping your knees as his lashes flutter when he looks up at you.

with a lopsided grin, he hooks a finger at the hem of your dress, lifting it just enough for your panties to peek at him. he grunts at the little wet patch that dampens and soils the middle of your panties, leaning in to disgustingly sniff at it before licking once, twice, thrice, enough to taste you through the cotton. you're shaking, beyond control and unable to balance your body by yourself so you place your hands at his shoulders, pulling him needily into you as your back arches into the wall.

pushing your entire weight onto heeseung, who only groans as he ruts his increasingly evident boner into the ground, you hook your legs around his neck. he holds onto your thighs desperately, a whimper escaping his kiss swollen lips as his tongue slithers through the side of your panties to lick at your cunt. he delicately plants a kiss over your clit, making you shudder with a broken moan, as he finds his head heavy with the need to taste you, to make you cum. so, he does just that.

heeseung finds a comfortable pace at licking through your folds, dragging his wet muscle from side to side, then up and down. he repeats the action before nipping at your clit gently, soothing the prick with a prod of his tongue. "so sweet, just like honey, baby. that's it, you gon' cum for me?" he asks sweetly against your sopping pussy, nose glistening with your juices. "look at me, y/n, my pretty girl. want you to watch me as you come undone on my tongue, okay?" you struggle to open your eyes, nodding before you do anyway.

rapid strokes of his tongue have you unstable, shaking and withering under his touch while you try your best to keep your eyes open and in contact with his as he licks at you until no end. "say my name, baby, don't be shy. let me hear your pretty moans." you let a moan rip through the confines of your throat, rocking your hips messily against his face. "no, don't move." he hisses with a displeased smirk, shaking his head to show his disapproval. "let me do all the work, just sit and take it, got it?"

just like that, the ebbs of your orgasm crash against the little pebbles, rocking you through, only for heeseung to hold you still as he continues to devour you as you come down from your high. with a final suck of your clit, he parts from your cunt, face absolutely marred by your release. "good girl, did that feel good?" he coos, tapping at your thigh, signalling you to carefully put down your leg as he makes much effort to stand up.

when you nod, pulling him into another kiss, he chuckles, trapping you against the wall yet again. "yeah? in that case, shouldn't you return the favour?" he presses a few kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of sparks in its wake. "let me make you feel good, hee." you answer in words this time, making heeseung widen his eyes but he nods, eyeing the floor once before he looks up at you, "kneel." dropping to your knees, your fingers work quickly as they unzip his denim pants. a tent visible as you cup his clothed length, you lick your lips eagerly as you imagine feeling him fill up the entirety of your mouth.

you tug at his boxers, leaving it bunched up at his knees, immediately pressing a hasty kiss at the head of his veiny cock. you notice how it is curved at the tip, pink and angry. this forces heeseung to snake a hand into your hair, clutching the strands at the roots warningly, "don't tease, pretty girl, get on with it." he doesn't have to say it twice before you are nestling his cock in the home of your wet and warm cavern. you let it soak in there for a while, not attempting to please him just yet as you adjust to his size.

soon after, flattening your tongue, you hollow your cheeks as you start to set a steady rhythm into bobbing your head for him. licking at the underside, you ensure not an inch of his cock is left untouched by you, the part that doesn't fit in your mouth caressed by your soft hands. "just for me to ruin, fuck, yes!" heeseung is blessed, really, to have a girl truly attentive to his needs, the way he wants to be touched and pleased, repeating the actions that seems to make him teeter at the edge of his orgasm. lucky bastard!

right when you think you should fasten your pace to meet with his cum painting the insides of your mouth, heeseung abruptly pulls at your mouth, his now semi soft dick covered in your spit resting at your lips, "can i cum on your face, pretty girl?" with no answer, you unzip the back of your dress, letting it pool at your hips. unclasping your bra, you hold your tits up, motioning him to slide his cock in between. this causes heeseung to let out husky groan, trying not to bust right then. he loves the way you're so proactive, he can't help it!

he squirms from the sudden increase in stimulation as you use your tits as a makeshift fleshlight, wrapping it around his now hardening cock tightly as he fucks into the space you provide him. letting a sliver of your tongue peek out, you lick at his tip each time his cock almost lodges against your lips, instantly making him cum. he sucks in a sharp breath as he spills all of him that's worth, over your tits and the lower half of your face. pretty, he thinks, fingers unconsciously reaching for his phone.

"can i take a photo of you, pretty girl—" the door to the room the two of you are in is knocked upon fiercely, "heeseung, you in here, man?" upon hearing jay, heeseung scurries to bring out tissues from the bedside table, "yes, what's up?" in three swipes, he cleans you up, cursing when his finger is also stained by his release. before he could wipe it off, though, you bring up his cum glistening finger to your lips, tongue darting out to lick it clean. "fuck, you're gonna be the death of me!" he whispers, pressing an open mouthed kiss at your lips, tasting himself in the process. "niki has been throwing up nonstop, man, i can't find the others, hurry up, will you?" you two hear the receding footsteps of a rather pissy jay, laughing into eachother once you're sure he's gone.

easing into eachother, "can we do this again, y/n? i'd really like to fuck you open, if you'd let me." he asks, his brash words lighting up a reddened blush on your cheeks, "yes, i'd love that." before you could exchange numbers though, jay knocks yet again, an impertinent cockblock, you suppose. "i have to go—see you around?" you nod, smiling at heeseung who leans down to kiss your cheek. "see you around, heeseung."

you don't remember how you get home that night after having freshened up in the room's attached restroom. all you think of for the next few days is heeseung's lingering touches, his whines and soft exhales, the way his hips bucked into your touch when you sucked him right. safe to say that you haven't been able to contact him either, having used your god given stalking skills on instagram to no avail.

it's been a few weeks, having been busy with volleyball practice and packing to move to your campus dorm. now, it's d—day! there's cardboard boxes piled up, with two suitcases of yours filled to the brim with clothes you can't bring yourself to leave behind in your childhood home. after a tearful parting with your family, you find yourself cuffed with the seatbelt on and your bestfriend driving you to the university to help you move in. while you do have much unpacking to do, it is also your first day at university!

bidding goodbye to your friend once they had helped you get your boxes and suitcases in, you change your outfit for the first class, not wanting to be late. after a whirlwind of trying to find your class, which happens to be your homeroom hour, you settle into one of the desks in the spacious room. although it's just the first day, the room is still loud with whispers and chatters about the exciting life at university. the class, however, hushes at some point, and while you were preoccupied on your phone, you hear a familiar voice.

"goodmorning, guys! how has your first day been so far?" your heart races erratically in its place, unsure if you've just misplaced the voice and its owner or if you're really doomed. slowly looking up, you find yourself glancing at heeseung, who looks at his phone for a split second before he pays attention up front. he hasn't noticed you yet, smile just as charming as it was when he first greeted you. as if on cue, all the memories from a few weeks ago flood in to liven up the black of your mind.

you try not to make eye contact with the man as he introduces himself and shares his email with the students for future assistance. however, when you look up to sneak a glance at him again, you see him staring right at you, wide eyed. you're fucked and not quite literally.

all rights reserved to @/icekkeugf 2024! please do NOT steal/copy/translate my works.

[hargreeves-duncan]

Can I request five x reader (takes place in s2) where reader (five’s partner) gets sent to Dallas around a year before five comes and after he does and reader sees him, she immediately tackles him on the spot and gives him many kisses. Maybe reader manages to work at a casino too

a/n: hi, thank you so much for your request! i haven’t written in a while so i'd love to hear your thoughts, enjoy!!

summary: it's been far too long since you've seen your boyfriend - he learns that the affectionate way.

warnings: reader works at a casino but there’s no actual gambling so🤷‍♀️

word count: 1.4k

You had to hand it to yourself, for someone who’d known next to nothing about life in the 1960s, you’d adapted pretty well. In no time at all, you’d managed to land yourself a job as a waitress in a casino. A very good one. It seemed in this timeline, Jack Ruby thought a casino would be a better investment than a night club - and for your part, you couldn’t say that he was wrong, nor could you complain.

The hours were long, but the pay was good enough and the other girls had taken you in as one of their own. You quickly began to excel. Strolling between the tables and flashing smiles was easy, second nature even. You developed the wit and charisma to charm the casino’s patrons without second thought, which meant you got more drinks served, more loyal customers and bigger tips to go along with them. 

Most nights the new life you’d built for yourself was more than enough but sometimes, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t help but yearn for what had come before - who had come before.

There was always a dull ache in your chest whenever you caught a fleeting glimpse of a lone, brown-haired man at one of the tables. In those moments, you could never stop yourself from believing for a slither of a second that Five had made it and he’d come right back to you.

You’d waited for him in that dingy, old alley for two weeks straight, because you knew that Five would never abandon his family like that. That something must’ve gone wrong, but it was okay because he’d come back and everything would be fine. That was what you told yourself. You were so sure he’d show up and solve everything in an instant, because that was what he always did. And when he hadn’t, it had almost destroyed you.

The first few months were gruelling, taking your first steps in the new world had taken a while. Grieving Five had taken longer. The obvious truth was staring you in the face. A year without contact from him or any of the other Hargreeves siblings? The probability was that you were the only one who had survived.

It was a truth that you were reluctant to admit, even now. One that led you to where you are today, starting yet another night shift, beside the casino’s bar, to serve a particularly rowdy Friday night crowd of patrons.

As you begin to set up, Mary-Anne, one of the other waitresses on shift, sidles up to you. Her honey-blonde curls bouncing around her ears as she leans against the bar. Trying to stifle her laugh, in her southern drawl, she says, “Has he tried talking to you yet?”

You raise an eyebrow at her, tilting your head to the side, “Has who tried talking to me yet?”

Her grin grows wider as she gestures to a table on the far corner of the room, laughing, “That little boy. Haven’t I said a million times that we oughta get tighter on the security in this place?”

She sighs, resting her hands on her hips, “I went over to him - trying to tell him that we don’t allow minors in here - and what’d he do?”

Deciding to humour her, you smile, looking down at her, “I’ve got no idea, tell me.”

She scoffs, shaking her head as she smiles, “He told me that he more than knew his way around place a place like this and that I had nothing to worry about with him. Can you imagine having the nerve like that at his age?”

The thought made you laugh. It reminded you of Five. His haggard temper in the body of his younger self always seemed to shock people in the very same way. You paused. It couldn’t be him, couldn’t it? You must be jumping to conclusions. After all this time, it’d make no sense if he was here now and yet…

“He said that?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing as you glance between the table and Mary-Anne. You squint, trying to see if you could recognise him.

A part of you felt silly and girlish for still holding out hope but this kid’s description was just too similar and besides, you were a teenager again, you were allowed to be lovesick and entirely delusional. It was practically your god-given right.

Mary-Anne nodded, loading her tray up with drinks of all shapes and sizes to cover her half of the room, “He did.”

Your eyes were locked onto the distant table, practically pleading for the kid to just turn around and let your hopes down already. Still, all that greeted you was the back of his head and the green fuzz of the poker table in front of him.

When you didn’t tear your eyes away, Mary-Anne looked you up and down, her baby blue eyes swimming with concern, “You alright there?”

Looking back at her, you sigh, already pent up at the possibility of Five being so close, “Yeah, I just… What did he look like?” You ask tentatively, biting your rouge-tinted, bottom lip between your teeth.

Mary-Anne hums in thought as she loads your tray for you, “Gosh, I don’t know - he had dark hair, was wearing a suit. It had the funniest, little emblem on it.” She says, tapping her chest in place of where it would’ve been.

Your eyes widen in shock and excitement as you process her words, “An umbrella! It was an umbrella, wasn’t it?”

Mary-Anne grins, giggling, “It was… how’d you know that?”

You couldn’t even answer her. You were already starting to tremble and hyperventilate, entirely overcome with nerves and joy and pure, unbridled excitement all at once. A year of being apart and now he was no more than a few strides away. Your smile brightens up like no other.

You slip your tray from over your head and place it down on the bar as you say, “Hey, cover for me, would you? I’ll be two seconds.”

Without waiting for her answer, you dash across the room - a flurry of giddiness bubbling up inside of you the closer you get. You tousle your hair and straighten your uniform, anything to keep your anxious fingers busy and to better yourself for something you’ve waited for for far too long.

Hearing heels coming towards him again, Five sighs in frustration and turns around in his chair, “Lady, I already told you-“

The breath feels like it’s been stolen from your throat as he turns to face you. It’s really, truly him. Your boyfriend is right there in front of you and you’ve never felt more relief than in this moment.

“Y/N.”

You’re not sure if you want to cry or scream or simply just take him in for the first time all over again. As you look over him, his piercing gaze, his dark hair and the freckle on his right cheek that you can’t count the number of times you’ve kissed, your eyes can’t help but be drawn to his lips.

God, how you’ve missed the feeling of them. You barely have time to think about what you’re doing before you’re cupping his face and pressing your lips against his once more, savouring every part of him in a way you’d never thought to before.

Your hands trail over every callous in his skin, memorising him with your fingertips, and as you pull back, Five’s gaze softens like nothing else as he smirks, “Hello, you.”

His hands reach out to cup your face, gazing over you as if he’s not entirely sure that you’re real. After all your time apart, you’re not sure either. You smile, nodding, “It’s me. It’s you. You’re here, you’re really here!”

You cup his face in return and you can’t help but press another kiss to his lips. He smiles fondly as you do. And so you kiss him again… and again on his cheek… and on his freckle… his chin… his forehead. Everywhere your lips can reach, you press them.

After a moment, he laughs weakly and reaches up to pull your hands away from his face and intertwines them with his own fingers instead, “Okay, love.” He says chasteningly, “Let’s calm down there, shall we?”

Your smile grows shyer as you right yourself, “Sorry.” You say, brushing your hair away from your face.

He shakes his head, brushing your hair back for you and then guiding you by the waist to the seat beside him, “No, don’t be sorry. Don’t ever be sorry. Believe me, I’m just as happy to see you. Really.”

It’s him who initiates the kiss this time. He’s soft, delicate almost, in the way that he kisses you, as if each movement of his lips is a new way of giving all of his love to you and promising that he won’t ever let you out of his sights again.

[oneofreid]

Close for Comfort

Summary: A new hot tub is installed at your apartment complex. You find yourself sneaking a dip at the same time as a particular BAU agent. But how much room can steaming water truly hold for two?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Warnings: (18+ Content) Typical smut except heavier? and Spencer being a perv/slightly unhinged while being horny lol. Slight degrading. Descriptions of fingering, handjob, and unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before ya tap it). Public sex like damn get a room.

A/N: lord…….first ever fic. i think i might’ve blacked out with this. read my other fics here

Glistening sweat formed a thin line above your hairline, a few drops slowly running down the nape of your neck.

The heaving of your chest as you wiped the remaining sweat off your face. Still in need of a dip in the newly installed hot tub that was just emplaced at your apartment complex. Your body bruised and aching from how intense the workout you had just finished was.

A shade of purple and blue spots aligned various spots on your body. Some held a greener tint due to the start of healing. You hated the look, but nonetheless, you were one of the strongest agents on the team. Therefore, you got beat up pretty badly trying to take down different unsubs at times.

Slipping on a your favorite bikini, the fabric was snug accentuating your curves. A towel in one hand while another held a water. Closing the door to your room, making way towards the other side of the apartments. It was late at night, nearly one o’clock. You knew everyone else was bound to be asleep or at the very most, doing their own thing.

At least that’s what you hoped.

Sliding the back gate shut before passing the in-ground pool that had also been splurged on by your landlord. The cool marble of the backyard patio on your feet with every step. Only to halt at the sight of someone else in the hudson bay spa.

His chocolate brown eyes turning at the sound of your footsteps, his attention now all on you. Arms rested on the tub’s edge like an eagle spreading its wings to fly. The muscles in his biceps visible, a few veins poking out as well. Your eyes dropped down to his chest, strong pecks on full display. The dips in his broad shoulders giving away the idea that although he was lean, he was fit and worked out quite frequently.

“I thought I was the only one awake during this hour,” The sound of his velvety-voice snapped you from drinking him in. His eyes still completely on you.

Your cheeks heated up, a faint blush painting them red with embarrassment. Mentally kicking yourself for gawking at the man in front of you, not only was he your undeniably hot next-door neighbor, but your nerdy and charming co-worker at the BAU as well.

Spencer continued, “you can join me, if you want. Hot tubs like this one are made for two people. And they actually have a lot of health benefits like reducing stress, improving quality of sleep, and relieving pain….which can help with healing your bruises quickly.” The water lightly splashing around him as he talked with his hands, again over sharing.

You nodded, smiling lightly at him. Placing your towel and water bottle down before nearing towards the tub. Carefully sinking down into the water, the heat instantly burning your skin. Sighing in content. You leaned against the back wall. The scorching temperature numbing the ache in your exhausted limbs.

Opening your eyes to make instant eye contact with the man in front of you. A smirk pulled his lip, relaxing further back into the tub with a puff in the chest. Pushing his pecks further out, the defined lines of his abs peaking beneath the water.

“You still haven’t spoke a word to me. Are you enjoying yourself honey?,” He spoke after a moment of silence between you two. Nearly choking at the weak use of a pet name he used for you.

Eyes slowly dropping to admire your chest, the cups of your top pushing them slightly hire. A sight that secretly always drove Spencer nearly to the edge.

Clearing your throat at the sight of his chest slowly rising up and down with a trickle of sweat running down, “Yes, the water actually feels very nice.”

“It feels very nice,” his voice slightly mocking yours, “I like the heat…against my thighs,” His voice suggestive, dripping in lust.

Your breathe hitched at his flirty remark. Clenching your thighs together in need, forcing yourself not to drop your eyes any further. Noticing his damp curls sticking to his forehead with droplets of sweat forming. Every bone in your body fighting to run your fingers through his dark colored hair.

You guys were always close, dare to be nothing more than best friends at and outside of work — and unfortunately in this case, neighbors at the same apartment complex. Yet, the sexual tension that had been building between you two these past few weeks was inevitable. It started with lingering glances during briefings, he would look at you like he wanted to devour every inch of you. You thought you were overreacting at first until Penelope…and Derek had pointed it out. Noting that the chemistry the two of you had shared was gradually getting deeper. Spencer always yearning to be close to you, sneaking touches here and there. Whether it be a light hand on your thigh as you glanced over crime scene photos, or the way his hand would sometimes slowly travel down the curve of your back. You knew there was something there, you just weren’t sure….who would make a move first.

A deep cough snapped you out of your filthy thoughts, his thick brow quirking at you. Posing a question of ‘what are you thinking?’ yet he remained silent.

Both of you scrutinizing each other, drinking in each other’s appearance. Atmosphere around you growing thick and heavy, yet all you could do was blame it on the heat. His eyes never leaving yours as you sunk further into the water. The temperature engulfing you like a warm blanket on a cold winters night.

Shutting your eyes closed, in hopes that you’d brush away the burning heat that traveled its way to your core. Along with the dirty images that flooded your mind.

The slosh of water snapping them open, Spencer’s body now right next to yours. Stiffening at his sudden move, you turned to look at him. A smirk still plastered on his face.

“Can I help you?” You asked, a bit more blunt than you intended to.

“There’s too much clothing on,” Spencer drawled.

“Excuse me?” Your eyes widened at his reply, caught off guard by the sudden surge of confidence from the one-and-only, Spencer Reid. The man who was known

“You have too much clothing on.” His eyes slipping from your face to stare at your breasts, covered in thin fabric.

“I don’t understand how exactly that’s a problem here.”

“Oh, honey…” he breathed, twirling a piece of your hair with his finger, “I see the way that you look at me. You crave intimacy but most of all, to be touched by me.”

The air knocked from your lungs at his bold statement, your chest tightened as he exposed you. Confused on how he of all people would know about your deepest desire. To be completely and utterly fucked at the hands of Spencer Reid.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you choked.

His intense gaze burning into your side, mentally forcing yourself to look anywhere but him. You needed to get out. Yet, your legs stayed mounted to the charcoal tub.

Intoxicated by his smell, a hint of cologne and cypress with every inhale you took. A staggering breathe from how close you were to the inviting man beside you.

Lips lowered to the shell of your ear. “Oh. I think you do, my love, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” The little pet name he picked out for you easily rolling off his tongue.

Closing your thighs shut, you attempted to scoot away from him. Desperate to get out before he could tantalize you any further. Hearing the snap of his finger before the material of your top disappeared along with the bottoms.

Yelping in shock, you quickly turned around. The devious look of him amused at your embarrassment.

“Relax, my sweet girl, I prefer you this way. Naked and on display, for my pure enjoyment,” he teased. Eyeing your bare breasts, nipples hardening as a slight breeze blew by.

Bubbles arose blasting at the quick speed that projected into the water. Just your luck, the jets had turned on.

Giving you slight coverage in attempt to cover your bottom half. The fast pressure massaging your muscles as you still remained in shock over what had just occurred.

You felt completely exposed to the man in front of you who held no shame.

A few bubbles had splashed up, dripping down his chin while he waited for your next move. His eyes hunting his prey like a meal in need of devouring.

The look he sent you sending electric waves to your core. A burning sensation stirred inside of you, a temperature that even the water inside of the tub could not satisfy you. The familiar ache of yearning to be touched and pleasured by a man growing by the second.

Your next words even surprising you, a surge of confidence leaving as you spoke. “Well, come fuck me then.”

Closing the distance between you two, moving each leg to straddle his lap. His fingers sliding down to grasp the side of your hips. Grinding your cunt to ease any friction against his swim trunks. A moan leaving your lips at the rough material and growth of his erection from underneath you.

Palming his clothes length, a strangled moan could be heard against your ear. Earning a smirk from you, satisfied with the reaction he gave you. He was withering under you and you both knew it.

Slowly lifting yourself up off of him, “I’m afraid that you have too much clothing on,” you whispered. Reversing the tables and mocking him this time.

Moving a hand down to tug the waistband of his swim trunks down, setting his aching cock completely free. Taking it in your hand before slowly working in a pumping motion, up and down, gripping slightly harder every time you made it to the top. Repeating the movement hastily. Gliding a thumb over his tip, beads of his pre-cum mixed with the body of water that held you two.

The water becoming a lubricant of its own, slipping through your nimble fingers with ease. Taking note of how easily your soft touch affected him. His breathe staggering with every jerk of your hand.

Spencer’s hand tugged your own. Releasing the hold you had on his cock, it was his turn. He needed to touch you.

“Allow me,” he murmured.

His lips attaching themselves to the side of your neck, hungrily sucking the sweet spot below your ear. A mixture of sweat and salt water. Moaning in approval at the magic of his tongue.

Grazing your folds, he delicately ran his fingers through them. Even with the water that submerged you two, he could feel how slick and wet you were for him. Just from his presence alone. Teasing you with one last draw of his finger before slowly dipping one inside of you, your walls welcomed his touch. Adding another digit, pumping it and out, a moan leaving you every time in a serene of pleasure.

Digit after digit. He pumped four fingers inside of you.

Moaning with every pump of his delicate fingers, getting lost in not only his touch but the feel of his lips on your skin. The slick of his fingers sliding in and out of you. Sucking the flesh of your neck to mark up your breasts with delicate kisses.

Pulling his fingers out swiftly, you whined at the absence. Suddenly feeling empty. Chuckling at your reaction, he knew how downright bad you were for him in that moment.

He had you right where he wanted you.

“Such a needy little one, you are,” Spencer crooned at you.

The bubbles stilled around your naked bodies. Your bikini and his swim trunks long forgotten, completely chucked to the side. Both of you drenched in a mix of salt water and sweat.

“Spencer….,” you cried. Your arousal still building up inside of you, the tip of the iceberg. Yet, that wasn’t the tip that you needed.

“I need you….I need you, Spencer,” you began to beg.

Feeling utterly humiliated as you pleaded for out of all people, your fucking co-worker to fuck you. Your body craved to be full of him. To feel his cock fill you up till he fully stretched you to your limit.

Reid snickered, a sense of dominance that he never knew he had coming over him, “Look at you. Begging for my cock. Is that what you want?,” his hand grazing your jaw before gripping it slightly so you could look at him, “For me to fuck you? Fill you with every inch of me until I have you screaming, pleading so that everyone knows who you belong to.”

His mocking words fired something inside of you, arousal practically dripping as it soaked your folds. Nodding eagerly, you began to grind your hips ferociously against him. A spill of ‘yes’s’ and ‘fuck me please’ coming from you.

Pulling you up from the hips, Spencer practically drooled at the sight of the water that dripped from your breasts. His mind spiraling, completely filled with the ideas and images of him fucking you until you couldn’t walk, or even better speak.

Your focus shifted from leaving kisses on the trail of his neck to centering his cock at your entrance. Gently running his shaft along your soaked folds, earning a moan from the both of you, before slowly sinking down. His girth stretching your walls leaving you to fully adjust, taking every inch of him.

A shaky breathe left your lips, never feeling this full before. “Are you okay?,” Spencer asked sincerely. Grabbing your chin, searching for any doubt in your eyes.

He knew he was above average so he gave you a moment to take him all in. You bit your lip, nodding at him.

“I’ll be fine,” you whispered. Slipping a hand behind the nape of his neck, you steadied yourself for support. Running your fingers to through the soft, damp texture of his curls.

Beginning to bounce up and down, the water sloshed around you. Your eyes never leaving his in what is now the most intimate moment you have ever had with Spencer Reid.

“Fuuuuckk…Spence, you’re so big,” you panted.

Your praises fueling his ego, boosting him with pride.

Spencer thrusted beneath you aiding you both to reach your climax. The tip of his cock piercing your cervix with every bounce from you and thrust the he made.

His grunts and moans filling your ears, a mix of your own joining with him. If nobody could hear you before, they definitely could now. Both of you too lost in the pleasure of ravishing each other to care about all your neighbors and people down the street who could hear.

Up and down, you continued to bounce on top of him. You were never a huge fan of riding but suddenly with him, it was the best thing in the world. Your breasts at his eye level while he looked up at you like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and you are.

His hand fell down to circle your clit. Adding another source of stimulation to your nearing climax.

“Come on, sweet girl….don’t be shy. Let me hear how good I’m making you feel, let’s put on a whole show,” he coaxed in your ear.

Quickly pulling out his dick before turning you to face the wall. You clamped a hand over your mouth, muffling the scream that had just erupted from you. The sudden change in position hitting a different angle, a different spot than before. Your chest was flushed up against the wall of the hot tub as Spencer pounded into you from behind. His attempts at getting you to be more vocal succeeding as your pleasure was heard for the whole world to witness.

Moan after moan, shout after shout, the spews of you telling him to go harder and how big his dick was, you cried after each thrust. Each one hitting harder than the last. Tears spilled out of your eyes at the brutal force that Spencer used to help you reach your climax.

Fuck, he heard you tell the girls how you liked it rough.

“You feel so good, taking all of me like this. The good girl that you are,” Spencer praised. Wrapping a fist full of your hair around his wrist. Tugging it ever so slightly which earned another moan from you in return.

Water splashed with every hurried rock of his hips against the flesh of your skin. His heavy balls slamming against your ass, destined to create even more bruising from the grip he had on you.

The sound of waves crashing around you drowned out by the heavy pants and whimpering moans that left both of you.

“My pretty girl,” you felt yourself tighten around him, “Is that right? You’re my pretty girl, you look so beautiful filled with my cock.” He moaned.

Thrust after thrust, his dick disappeared inside of you. Pulling out just before the tip only to slam right back in. It was rough and you knew tomorrow you’d wake up bed bound but damn, it was worth it. Your body jerking every time he forced himself back in while you gripped onto the ledge for dear life. His sweet praises, compliments, and slight taunts tipping you over the edge.

“F..fuck..Spence, I’m gonna…I need to cum,” you panted.

Your stomach tightened, knowing you were almost close and he was nowhere near from slowing down.

“I know, sweet girl, I can feel you,” he rasped. His own stomach coiling from the rapidity of his movements.

He placed a kiss on top of your shoulder blade. “Where…where do you want me to cum?” He panted.

Turning your head to look back at him, his dark curls framed his face. His face contorted in sweet pleasure, heavenly moans leaving his lips at the same time. Your walls clenching even harder around him at the scene of him pussy drunk over you.

“Inside. Cum…I want you to cum inside of me,” you managed to get out. Feeling drunk over his cock as well.

Spencer deeply inhaled, feeling his cock twitch aggressively as he coursed you with every thrust to cum. Screams and moans could be heard from the both of you, as his head fell onto your shoulder. Both of you chasing out a high that you had never felt before.

After performing a couple more lousy thrusts, Spencer rested his head on you. His chocolate curls laying to fall on your shoulder, feeling his chest fall up and down behind you. Your own vision falling blurry at what you could now say was the best sex of your life.

A mixture of both of your cum slowly slid down your leg, his length still buried deep inside of you.

“That was….,” he breathed.

“Amazing,” you finished the sentence for him.

Earning a laugh from the both of you. Spencer slowly pulled out of you causing you to wince, “I’m sorry,” he kissed your forehead.

You turned around placing yourself back on his lap, moving to snake your hands around his neck. “It’s okay, I like this side of you,” you smiled at him.

Both of you exhausted yet still relishing in the presence of each other. His hands rubbing in a circular motion on your hips.

“You know I’ve thought about this for so long,” Reid admitted.

“What? Fucking me in a hot tub outside of our apartment complex,” you teased. Splashing him lightly with the water, watching it glisten and hit his chest.

“No,” he laughed, shaking his head as he continued to stare at you. A look that he had never given you before.

“Turning our friendship into something more than just being friends. You know since we first joined the BAU, I always had this thing for you. Everything about you was just so…so magnetic and captivating. There was just somethin-“

You cut him off, babbling and over explaining being a bad yet adorable habit of his. Closing the small gap that was between you, connecting your lips with his as you finally gave him a true and passionate kiss.

Leaning back you took him all in, “It’s a date. Tomorrow, we can head to the coffee shop that you love down the street before work.” This would be the start of something new.

[clawsdevour]

helpless

wc: 0.5k content warning: post-timeskip, established relationship, ushijima x reader, suggestive, not proofread

⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ ˚ ₊

startled when you heard a sigh of frustration from the corner of the room.

at his desk, the sliver of light from the window highlighting and defining his sharp but attractive features. ushijima's slaving away responding to his business emails and sponsorships, tapping away at his laptop profusely before taking a quick break.

his long thick fingers brush through his short brown hair, cut to pristine the way he liked it. his long lashes flutter as he blinks once, then twice, before rubbing his eyes.

his thick brows are furrowed as he tries to concentrate, obviously tired from trying to get back to all his emails amongst the spam that doubles his inbox.

rusting to get out of the linen covers and silently making your way to his desk, peering just above his broad shoulder to catch a glimpse of what he's looking at on his screen.

it's pitch black..?

in your deep dark reflection that mirrored him, his eyes gravitate towards you in the back before shutting off his laptop. he already felt your presence in the room, but having you in arms reach was even more comforting.

caught red-handed, ushijima swivels his chair around to face you body to body while his large arms pull your torso in closer towards his head's level. his olive eyes gazed at you from beneath, nose pressing between the fabric that covered your warm skin as you felt him breath in and out.

"you okay toshi?" reaching for his head of hair, you stroke while using your soft voice to coo at him.

feeling him just slightly nod in between your chest, you blushed before putting a bit of distance between you two.

ushijima's staring you down, questioning why you just disrupted the tension for a brief moment before he saw you get on your knees in front of him as you kept eye contact. he's lost in the moment, excited at what's to come, twitching in length.

your delicate fingers run along the seams of his growing bulge that suffocated his pants.

how long has it been since you did him a favor?

ushijima's impatient, holding his cool, he's been waiting for so long for this to happen again. he never asks, he only gives.

reaching into his waistband that held tightly onto his toned bod and under his boxers, your fingers are met with his swelling cock you pulled out.

it's like he tripled in size and it made you drool with sin. looking at it made you want it in your mouth this instant, just sucking on it like a lolipop. but no, you had to give him the whole package.

what a tease, using your fingertips to lightly graze over his size from bottom to top making him shiver with ecstasy. his intense stare lingered over you as you continued to endlessly tease him before you started to stroke ushijima off.

he is absolutely hopeless when it comes to you.

masterlist here

[jinwoosbabyboo]

"Safe and Sound.....Kinda" pt. 1

You went M.I.A and the LADS Men are stressed!

Zayne

MC: Lets get dinner when I get back from this three day mission Zayne: Im not sure whether you're brave or idiotic MC: What do you mean? Zayne: A hunter with ample heart issues agreeing to go on a three day excursion its risky MC: I'll be fine besides I have you to take care of me Dr. Zayne Zayne: How many of you are going on this mission MC: There's eight of us in total and I'm partnered with Tara

Two days have passed since Zayne spoke to you. Just one more day and he'll see your pretty face again. He smiled to himself "How childish" he mumbled to himself as his leg bounced with anticipation of seeing you soon. Just then his work phone rang "Dr. Zayne speaking"

"Dr. Zayne we need you in the ER stat" Yvonne's voice was much more stern compared to her soft easy going tone. This was serious. He stood quickly moving around his desk; throwing on his white coat not missing a beat as he made his way to the ER.

"Give me a rundown of the situation" Zayne said as Grayson jogged the catch up with him. "We have seven patients, two unconscious, and all severely injured, the hunters association told us they were on a mission that went wrong a frenzy of wanderers appeared through a rift"

Time seemed to slow as Zayne's mind swam through the possibilities that this could be for squadron. "Give me the names"

"Ceila 21, Terrance 24, Mico 21, Tara-"

"Tara? is MC among these patients?" If looks could turn someone to stone Grayson would be a statue in the courtyard by now. He quickly flipped through the pages on the clipboard searching for your name. "I don't see her name here"

"You said there were seven ... is someone missing?" Zayne asked as he could feel his blood pressure rising.

"Zayne!" Someone was calling his name. "Zayne!" The voice was coming from a pale woman with short brown hair. She had lacerations scattered across her body; her torn uniform hanging on by a thread. She was covered in bruises and was about to pass out from blood loss any minute. "You have to help her..."

"Help who?"

"MC ... she's still ... she's still fighting ....... alone .......... you have to find her" Time seemed to slow as reality set in. MC was alone with the wanderers who did this to her team. All the oxygen left Zayne's body in an instant.

"Dr. Zayne they're calling for you in the operating room" Yvonne yelled snapping Zayne out of his mental spiral. "Right, right tell them I'm on my way"

Your profile was flagged as M.I.A. after that day no one knew where you were

Three days.....

Five days.....

One week....

One week three days twenty seven minutes....

Time ticked by slowly tormenting Zayne. He couldn't sleep and his appetite was non existent. Dark shadows formed under his eyes from his late nights going out and searching for you. "Where did you go?" He dropped his head in his hands trying to control his emotions. Just then an unknown number flashed across his phone screen.

"Hello?"

???: Hello, this is Jenna I'm MCs Captain you are listed in her file as an emergency contact. I'm just calling to let you know that we found her, but she's unresponsive. She's being transported to Akso Hospital now......she has a faint pulse.

Zayne dropped his phone and booked it out the door heading straight for the hospital. You were battered, bruised, and bloody but you were breathing and that was enough for Zayne. You had to be put in a medically induced coma so he and the other doctors could stabilize you.

Zayne stayed by your side adjusting your pillows, checking you vitals, and settling into his nightly position sitting bedside with his head in your lap. Rubbing small circles on the back of your hand with his thumb as you lay there motionless. Slow steady breaths with nothing but the sound of the heart monitor melodically singing in the otherwise silent room. He'd wait as long as it would take for you to wake up. You have to wake up.

Rafayel

You were supposed to be back two days ago. Rafayel was losing his mind. "She has twelve hours to contact me before I burn the hunter association headquarters to the ground" he seethed through gritted teeth.

Thomas stood back as Rafayel's anger was radiating off him in waves. He could almost feel the heat of his evol burning his skin.

Next day...

"Are you even looking for her?" Rafayel yelled in Jennas face.

"You're not the only one worried about her sir she's M.I.A. with a damaged hunters watch we're having trouble getting a lock on her coordinates" Jenna smoothed her skirt as she stood from her desk to size up Rafayel. "If you have any suggestion I'm all ears"

"Find her or you can say goodbye to this entire organization"

"Is that a threat?" Jenna stood tall under Rafayel's searing gaze anyone else would have cowered away.

"Its a promise"

One week later...

There's a loud bang on the door of Rafayel's art studio. The sudden noise startled him. "Raf....." The softest voice came from the other side just as he could hear the person sliding down the door and the soft thud of them hitting the ground.

He rushed to the door recognizing your voice. "MC!" You fell backwards as he opened the door. He managed to catch you under you arms. "What happened? Where were you? Don't tell me this is your blood" A blood trail tracked the path you took he could tell you'd fell a few times just trying to get to the door. Blood was smeared down the door and was now slowly pooling underneath the two of you.

"I was so badass" You smiled as you looked up at his blurry face going in and out of focus. "This is not the time for jokes" Your eyelids were so heavy. You tried to respond, but your words came out slow and slurred. "I just....wanted.......to see...........you.....before I.........died" Your head fell back as you passed out from blood loss.

Rafayel scooped up your bloody body and rushed out the door trying not to slip. You were dead weight and your breaths were shallow he knew he didn't have any time to waste. He ran with you in his arms to the nearest hospital begging for help as he fell to his knees with you in his arms.

Like I said safe and sound....kinda.

Xavier & Sylus here ♡

[prettyundeadgirl]

Crave The Rose

1st and 3rd gifs made by me :)

Summary: Throughout your time in King's Landing, you and the carelessly attractive Kingsguard grew fond of each other. Your sister Margaery believes you both suit each other exceedingly well, soon setting you two up, and beneath the moonlight, love unfurls.

Pairing: Jaime Lannister x Tyrell Female Reader

Wordcount: 1.9k

Tags: Fluff, Smut, 18+ MDNI

AO3 Link

From the moment he set foot into the lush gardens of King’s Landing, his pair of viridescent eyes, shot with gold, set themselves onto you with an untold and profound intrigue. 

He’d go to the gardens whenever the chance arose, knowing you frequented there. He first enjoyed admiring you from afar, and it soon led him down a luring path where he’d do anything possible to get closer to you. Whether it was a simple, “Pardon me,” to brush past your skin and hear your gentle voice apologize for ‘being in his way,’ or to simply greet you. 

Engaging conversations soon blossomed, and you grew rather fond of him, leaving your grandmother and sister early to catch up with him and walk through the endless greenery, scented with vibrant inflorescences.

–

The day was up early, new and fresh, yet the torrid heat remained the same. You strolled beside the pond’s stone borders, taking a seat on the edge and basking in the generous and unyielding rays of sunlight that brightened the strands of your hair and complemented certain aspects of your features. 

Jaime had arrived only moments after and spotted you in an instant. He gathered in the picturesque view—the delicate movement of your leg crossing over the other, the intricate, floral trim of your dress, and the way you hovered over the pond to see the fish swimming beneath the lily pads that lay afloat, graced with pearlescent water lilies.

When you looked at him, lashes lifting slowly with that smile you always gave him, everything in his peripheral vision was meaningless as he stared at you—the electric, captivating focal point. And like the white, casting moon, you had a gravitational pull on the ocean tides of his attention, distant yet somehow influential, tugging him along. It wasn’t until you broke the contact to face your approaching sister Margaery that he was then dragged onto the mundane shores of reality. 

Margaery was undoubtedly graceful, with her lustrous, long brown hair and soft doe-like stare.

“Grandmother wants to speak with us.” She stated, and as you stood up from your spot, she acknowledged Jaime with an inquisitive glint before interlacing her arm with yours. You asked her what she wanted as you both withdrew from the area, leaving Jaime with an indescribable and strange sense of longing.

Gone from his view, a smirk appeared on her face, and etched in her creases was a curiosity one couldn’t possibly deny, and it had been there for some time.

“He’s rather handsome, isn’t he?”

“Very.” You answered noticeably quickly. 

“He likes you, I’ve seen it. I think you’d make a beautiful couple.”

Disbelief flashed across your features and you expelled a scoff, “You’re all wrong, he’s a Kingsgaurd. Forbidden to love. And he swore an oath to the king, your king.”

She giggled at your reaction, “Dear sister, you have much to learn. Most men never keep their oath, and what I saw today, his mind was clearly breaking that oath.” She drawled the last few words, wanting you to hear every syllable.

She was right.

Out of his sight, involuntary images and thoughts of you embedded themselves into the crevices of his mind—some pure, most not. It lingered in the back throughout his day and grew in the night before he went to sleep, and when he awakened, the hazy memory would come to a clear. He spent many mornings and nights this way—starting and ending with you, and he almost felt himself go mad, but he never knew one to love it as much as he did.

–

Beneath the heavens, you were situated on a long stone bench surrounded by verdant bushes and flourished plants, gazing out to where the sky and sea touched. The golden hours of the afternoon drained into the horizon; the sun, already gone, succumbing to its own inevitable demise. Darkness swept away the remnants of daylight that lingered, until the night prevailed, and myriad pinpricks of white sparkling light, softer than satin, adorned it graciously. 

The glistening, tranquil waters lapped against the stone structure, its song melding with your blissful hums. It reflected the prideful moon hung above which watched as you held a flower you plucked from a nearby bush, stripping it of its petals until all that remained of it was the stem. You placed the petals into your hands, sending them off into the night where they swayed down for the vast expanse of water to claim, flowing away until they were no longer visible.

Before long, your attention is drawn to the familiar clattering sound of armor approaching your direction.

“Ser Jaime.” You greeted, rising from your seat.

“Lady (name).” 

“What did you wish to speak to me about?”

His brows slightly furrowed at your question, “I was told you had wished to speak with me. Did you not?”

“No,” You admitted with pure honesty, taking a few steps forward. “My sister told me you wanted to meet me here, said you had something you’ve been wishing to tell me for a while.”

A spark of realization pervaded you after you finished your sentence, and as if by magic, the realization traveled to him as he smiled and you let out a small laugh, a sound he never tired of.

Inches away from him with that gentle gaze that sent his heart to cease, you raised your arm and traced the indentations of his shiny, aureate armor. The world was quiet—just the two of you, surrounded by nothing but plants and gleaming stars.

“Do you have something you wish to tell me, Ser?” The sudden shift in your tone and closeness sent an unbidden tightness to his throat.

“Yes.” He admitted. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid my eyes on you.”

Pulling him closer, your lips grazed and you kissed him, the rose of your mouth blooming against him. His hands, by nature, encompassed the curves of your hips, and the cool gilded fingertips of his false hand contrasted with the warmth of your exposed skin and sent shivers through you.

He sought the answer to a question that plagued his unsettled mind, rendering him incapable of thinking about anything else for the duration of your time here, and at the base of your tongue, the answer evades him: Your lips were as soft and divine as he conceived, and you tasted sweeter than any honey he’s ever had, making him smile against the orient pearl bone of your teeth. 

You pulled away, and his lips grew cold at your abrupt absence, “It’s late. Could you escort me back to my chambers?” You said against his mouth, words coated with a heavy implication.

His lips curled into another grin, “Of course.”

Arm looped around his as you were led into the Keep, where shadows draped against the narrow halls and slowly fell onto you. The silence was a symphony until your footfalls quick and sure echoed the halls akin to the beating of one’s heart. 

When you reached the door, he wasted no time, drawing you close, the warmth of his body enveloping you as he reconnected his lips to yours with a fierce intensity. In that moment of pure, unbridled passion, you both shared the same thought: I don’t want this to end. 

You craved each other, he was doubtless of it as you pulled him into your chambers with deafening haste, and once the door had shut, his hands moved with purpose, and your dress descended to the floor. You clumsily fiddled with his armor, removing the burdensome weight of his duties. 

With your bare bodies exposed to the night’s air, he propped you against the wall, and you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, never breaking the burning, sinful kiss. Your fingers entwined with his flaxen hair, and a carnal desire had curled its way through his veins, clogging his marrow and taking over him entirely. His kisses were rough and possessive as he moved to your neck, and you sighed those pretty, sensuous moans he tended to find himself imagining, yet they could never compare to how you sounded now. 

He carried you with ease, and the gentle river of bed sheets, brightened by the pale moonlight, creased as he lay you upon the bed and gazed at your flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes, with your legs parted for him and him only. You were utterly remarkable, sculpted by The Seven themselves; and he briefly wondered if he was even worthy of your love, for his perceived flaws over the years tainted him, and the gold hand fitted on his arm reminded him of it.

Your eyes gleamed up at him with sincerity and love, not a trace of judgment or distaste. It was louder than his doubts and beckoned him.

He pressed his weight on you and planted seeds of sloppy kisses, starting from your mouth, and down to the cleft between your thighs. Your sighs were heavenly when his mouth met where you wanted him most, and he relished in your taste as his generous tongue performed a rhythmic undulation. You lifted your hips, pushing into his mouth, and further parting your legs to provide him better access, and when he heard whispers of his name fall from your lips like it was the only word you’ve ever known, it swept over him, defeating any worries he harbored.

His name floated in the air, and he felt you tremble and wither as he licked your sensitive flesh. A blissful wave had overcome you, your chest rising and lowering. It was nothing you had ever experienced, and you desperately wanted to feel it repeatedly.

He returns to your mouth once more, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. His fingers traced over your thighs before lifting your leg from your knee, leaving you completely accessible to him. You hummed when he placed himself inside you with much need, movements starting slow and soon quickening, desperate to let out the build-up of his release in you. Your hands clutched at his back, nails ever so slightly indenting crescents into his skin as you felt his cock grazing the spot that ached for him. He moved away to stare into your eyes, admiring you for a moment your eyes brimming with love and lips parted, trying your best to stay silent and not draw attention to your chambers if anyone walked by. Still, the effort was futile as your moans fluttered out of your throat.

He moved to your ear languidly and spoke breathless words. “Tell me… Tell me I’m yours and only yours.” The tension in your abdomen tightened at his gentle demand, and a weak smile pressed against your ear as you did as you were told.

You couldn’t contain it any longer, and you came hard and sweet beneath him. He soon followed, a soft, low groan escaping his chest, and his thrusts slowed as your breaths intermingled in the room of meager light, slowly coming back to awareness. You and him never wanted the Gods to let it be forgotten, and you remained in each others’ arms until the night turned day.

–

In the early morning, sunlight swept away the dust of stars, and you were awakened by a lightness in the bed and a chill to your body that wasn’t there during the night. A sullenness burdened your heart when you twisted to an empty side, but soon diminished and was replaced by a warmness at what had been placed on the pillow, leading you to replay the unforgettable event that occurred in the night.

A single rose.

[goldenstring6123]

helloooo! i’d like to request a short fic with this glorious prompt i thought about last night 🤭

let’s say reader gets a tattoo of xavier’s sword (like the design behind his latest promise outfit) all the way down their back ;) i would die to see how he would react to this nyehehehe

it can be either fluff, suggestive, smut, up to you with whatever you’re comfy with <3 tysm hehe

Xavier: Ink & sword

Warning: Very suggestive! 16+ only, showering together, nudity, kissing, sensual touching, fem!reader, reader is not the mc but works as a hunter

Author's note: :>

MASTER LIST | Buy me a thread?

"I'm sorry—I knocked you back too hard," Xavier's hand reached down towards yours, and you, on the other hand, were buried underneath some plastic crates at the corner of the training room. He waited for you to take his hand. "Are you alright?"

You took his hand and used him to hoist yourself back to your feet, a tinge of pain and ache flowering from different parts of your back. You dropped the sword that you were holding, and it immediately dissipated into thin air. You looked at Xavier and patted his chest, trying to ease out that slight frown on his face.

"I'm alright. We deal with worse stuff on the battlefield."

Right above the entrance, a big digital clock projected the time in neon blue colors: 23:03. You and Xavier had been training for over three hours, and now the training grounds had been rid of people except for the two of you. Well, it couldn't be helped; Xavier's training regimen requires more time to perform, considering the complexity of his fighting style and condition.

Still, the fact that you can keep up is very noteworthy even in the eyes of others, though the only thing you were doing was defending and keeping your stance. The only worrying thing is that sometimes, Xavier forgets that you're just a normal hunter and tends to exert a bit more force when sparring.

You let out a small groan while you moved towards the shower room, and Xavier was walking right beside you, ready to reach out in case you toppled over. The frown was still on his face as if he regretted showing you that magnificent finishing blow. "Do you need help?"

You glanced at the shower room and hooked your index finger under his chin, turning his head slightly, the cheeky little teasing mood suddenly erupting from within you. "Are you offering to help me bathe? How daring of you."

"Uh...I didn't—" Xavier's doe eyes went wider than the moon, his nose and ears turning pink upon realizing your words.

You just loved finding the opportunity to fluster this little man.

Unbeknownst to Xavier, you knew how he has a little ongoing crush on you—credits to Tara for having that habit of snitching when drunk. And for a strong fighter, it feeds your ego to have him wrapped around your fingers.

"Can you just hand me the menthol patches in the kit?" you pointed at a small box nearby, one attached to the metal post. It was a first aid kit reserved for them. Xavier strode to the said post while you entered the washroom.

You opened your locker with your thumbprint and undid the brown leather support. Swiftly, you unbuttoned your blouse, picked at how it clung to your body, damp and riddled with dust and sweat. Finally, the stuffy bathroom air brushed against your sweat-ridden back.

"I got the patches..." Xavier entered the bathroom, the white menthol patches in his grasp. When he lifted his head to look at you, his eyes trailed from the curve of your form—eyes landing on the intricate tapestry of dark blue and white ink tattoo carved onto your back.

The shame of walking in on you naked disappeared in an instant.

You stared as Xavier slowly stepped beyond the room's threshold. You kept your blouse pressed against your chest, and even if you were nearly topless, Xavier's eyes never broke contact from your back. Why would he? The image of his very own sword was on your back.

"Is this why you wanted to take a picture of my sword?" His cold fingers slid down the dip of your spine, his eyes absorbing every bit of nitty-gritty detail about the tattoo. As much as he admires his real pristine sword, the image of it on your back is simply...breathtaking.

"Maybe? Do you like it?" You kept still, facing the locker. At that moment, every touch he made on your body was amplified beyond normal. The coolness of his fingers felt good against your warm back.

"It's beautiful," he uttered. The thin saber was positioned perfectly downwards to your spine, ending just above where your pants began, curving whenever you moved. The handle was positioned just between your shoulder blades. Feathers littered the rest of the space, some in blue and some in white. The intricate carvings on the side of his sword were perfectly captured. "Why did you choose my sword?"

"Well," your hand chucked the blouse in the locker. You glanced over your shoulder, the silver-haired man anticipating your answer. "It's because it was beautiful; I can't get my mind off of it." It just so happens that the man wielding it is beautiful as well. A beauty beyond the stars.

You turned back to face the locker, folding your blouse, thinking that Xavier had had enough of seeing the tattoo. Your lips opened, prepared to ask him to leave as you were nearly topless, if not for that low-back bra you're wearing, but before you could blurt a single word, Xavier pressed his lips on your shoulders.

It was as if his kiss had flicked a switch within you. You stiffened, leaning over while your hands hung at the edge of the locker. "Xavier? Did you just—"

The man placed another kiss lower. You could feel his tongue graze the surface of your skin. "Mhm, your skin is salty."

His words sobered you up; it wasn't exactly an insult, but that made you think. You stood up straight and faced him, your eyes coated with a sheen of lust and desperation. "I'm full of sweat. Do you really intend on having..." You held yourself back from spouting such vulgar words. "Never mind. Wait for me. I'm going to take a shower."

You took the towel and ran to the shower areas. It was dead silent. You pondered. Was Xavier really doing what you think he was going to do? Did the sword on your back push him to the edge?

All the thoughts crept at the back of your neck, but the softness of Xavier's lips remained. The hot water drizzled all over your body, releasing you from the stickiness of the fluids. You combed back your hair and looked up at the shower head, relishing the comfort of the rain-like sensation—for a few seconds at least.

The shower curtain shifted, and Xavier took a step in. His bare chest pressed against your back, and you spun quickly at the contact. Your eyes widened at the sight of his bare body—it's not the first time you saw it, but still—"Why are you here?"

"Let's take a shower together. Turn around, I'll wash your back."

"Do all training partners do this? Bathe together? Is this new?" You panicked, instinctively covering your areas while backing up against the cold porcelain wall. You stared up at him, the soft eyes no longer there. He looked intimidating now that he was towering over you.

"Do training partners sleep with each other when they get stuck in the mountains?" he uttered.

At that moment, the hazy memory of that stormy night flashed inside your head—the warmth of his touch, the flickering of the makeshift fireplace, his skin against yours, and his mouth exploring your body. Your face began to grow red at that memory.

Xavier's hands crawled to your hips, gently nudging you to turn. You didn't want to go against him, and at the same time, you were expecting something to happen because you would admit that Xavier was good. He felt good. His taste, his skill, and his size—what you didn't expect was that it wasn't going to be a one-time thing.

His hands were gliding on your back, and his burning stare trailed down to your ass. You bit your lip at the embarrassment. His hands, which were on your waist, found themselves holding on to your love handles, and gently, Xavier pulled your hips backward, coming into contact with his semi-hard-on.

"Shit," you uttered under your breath. Even if it wasn't fully hard, you could still clearly feel it. A million thoughts raced through your head, but there was one emotion that was prevalent: Erotic desire.

Xavier's lips came into contact with your back again, but this time, you couldn't help but flinch at every contact because his tongue and teeth grazed and gritted, intentionally leaving marks at Xavier's whims. Just by that, you were gasping for air, anticipating where he would bite next.

His fingernails scraped at your skin, tracing every curve and line of the tattoo; his touch was electrifying, but you craved more. How can he be so gentle but leave you feeling unexplainable things?

He peppered your back with light kisses from the dip of your back slowly, slowly crawling back up to your exposed nape. "Don't leave marks on my neck," you uttered between breaths. A loud pop of Xavier's kiss bounced off the shower room.

"Turn around, please. I want to see you," Xavier whispered. You looked over your shoulder, and you could see him stepping back a little bit, eager to see your body.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and turned to him, still covering your body. Admittedly, he was a little perplexed at seeing you acting all shy when it was you who was provoking him earlier, but poking fun at you wasn't right for the moment.

He brushed a stray hair that stuck onto your cheek and smiled, looking into your eyes fondly. "There's no need to hide," he said, taking a step closer. "You're beautiful."

His big hands caressed your elbows and slid up to your biceps, nudging you to loosen up. Your hands dropped from your body, but instead of letting them fall completely, you wrapped your hands around his neck.

You pressed your lips together, but all of a sudden, footsteps erupted.

"Is anyone in here?" the lady guard called. "Security!"

You covered Xavier's mouth and stared into his eyes, saying: 'Don't make a sound.'

"Oh, yes! I just finished training!" you yelled back.

"Alright, but please leave after 5 minutes. We're about to turn down the power for the entire floor."

"Sure! I'll be out in a minute," you replied. You and Xavier waited for a solid minute before moving. You let go of the breath you were holding, took the bar of soap from the holder, and gave it to Xavier. "Let's continue that at your apartment when we get home."

Author footnotes: Cockblocked by me, the author. Layout by me, using canva premium | Do not repost |

MASTER LIST | Buy me a thread?

[daddyissuesbecauseofhotch]

Daddy issues || #4

{masterlist}

You can’t help yourself, you simply have to see what Aaron’s like when he puts his son to bed. Does he read him a bedtime story? Do they talk about something? Does he kiss his forehead before tucking him in? The idea of him being the sweetest father, maybe as kind and caring as your own was, melts your heart. He’s already in the perfect category in your eyes, but if you’ll like what you see, you’ll have to create a brand new category just for him.

While you’ve never really thought about kids, being too busy attending parties almost every weekend, and sometimes during the weekdays if it was hard to decline an invitation, now you suddenly find yourself wondering what it would be like to take care of one. At this very moment, it’s not just any child in your mind. It’s Jack. He’s young, he could probably get used to the idea of having you around, and he seems to be a really good kid.

Letting out a dreamy sigh, you lean against the doorframe with your shoulder, your hands comfortably tucked into the pocket of the hoodie, and watch the bedtime ritual with curious eyes. Jack is aware of you being there, he keeps whispering something to his father while he’s glancing at you over and over again, and his father whispers back with a quiet chuckle. But then the boy yawns and falls back on his back, which prompts Aaron to pull the blanket up to his neck and lean down to kiss his forehead.

“Sleep tight, buddy,” he tells him softly before standing up to leave the room.

Without thinking, you take a few steps back so he can close the door, but when he stands toe to toe with you in the hallway, you lose contact with the filter between your brain and mouth. How could you think properly when he’s looking down at you with those brown eyes you want to drown in, watching you with that boyish smirk that makes your heart race?

So, you speak up and spit out something you should have kept to yourself. “How can something sweet like this be also hot as hell?” you ask him quietly, your breath hitching when he lets out a soft laugh. “That’s not funny.”

He shakes his head, the smile still present on his lips. “Actually, it is pretty funny. Come on, I have some really good wine waiting for us.”

Nodding, you follow him to the kitchen, but when you get there, he immediately cages you between himself and the counter. Your eyes are as big as saucers from the surprise, but you can only gulp since no words come to your mind. Deep down you know you should ask him what he’s doing, what the plan is, but you can’t get the words out. You’ve gone home with guys you barely knew before, one-night stands are nothing new to you sadly, but Aaron? You want to take it slow, you want to get to know him, but it’s clear he has a different idea.

Maybe for the first time in your life you want something real, a proper relationship that might be able to domesticate you, and you can feel that he’s the perfect candidate for that. Being with him would give you an instant family, though, you would find yourself in the role of a stepmom if things turned serious enough, and you’re terrified of that. What if Jack wouldn’t accept you? What if you fuck something up and end up hurting one of them?

“Hey,” he says quietly as he grabs your chin to make you look at him. “What’s wrong?”

Let’s see, you’re already daydreaming about a relationship that might never even happen. Yeah, right, he would escort you out of the apartment in a second. “Nothing, I’m just glad to see how happy your son is,” you reply, telling him a teeny tiny part of the truth.

A proud smile appears on his lips as he watches you, his gaze shifting down to your lips for a millisecond. Every fiber in your body is screaming at you to make the first move, to close the gap and kiss him, but your mind holds you back, telling you that it’s not the right time to be bold. Let him work for your attention, let him show you what exactly he wants. There’s no need to act like you do with guys your age.

Aaron leans close enough that you can feel his hot breath on your face when he exhales, but he doesn’t say anything, not even when he moves his hand from your chin to the side of your neck. How did he have the audacity to call you a tease when he’s doing things like that?

“You feel it too, don’t you?” he asks quietly, his thumb gently stroking your soft skin. When you give him a confused look, he shakes his head slightly. “The pull every time we’re close to each other. I can’t explain it, it’s just–”

“There,” you finish, finally understanding what he meant.

This pull, this attraction, this gravitational field is so strong that it’s impossible not to notice or choose to ignore it. Aaron knows that, you know that, and now maybe it’s time to explore what it means. He nods upon hearing the word you said out loud, but he remains silent, he just keeps watching you, analyzing you. During dinner, whenever Jack gave him a moment to talk, he told you about his job as a profiler, so now you feel like you’re being studied under a microscope.

Suddenly, he decides to knock you out of the depths of your thoughts by lifting you to the counter and placing a kiss on your nose. “Do you wanna find out what would happen if we got a little closer?” he asks, his hands moving to your knees, fingers spreading as he moves them up your thighs.

A jolt of electricity runs through you, and you can’t stop yourself, you cup his face and pull him into a kiss. He doesn’t hesitate to return it, quickly taking the lead as he kisses you hard and messy, way too eager to have you all to himself. All you want is spending the night in his bed, exploring every inch of his body and taking the time to learn more about him. He’s not that type, you know that, not someone who would sleep with a woman he barely knows, but God, you need him so bad.

The spell is broken when you hear some strange noises from Jack’s room, and his fatherly instincts kick in right away, making him rush to his son’s room. You don’t miss the sound of crying, the heartbreaking sobs of the child you grew to like so much in the past few hours. Your curiosity is strong, telling you to go and see what’s happening, but you also know it’s not something you should observe.

Some time later you’re sitting on the couch, mindlessly checking your notifications to see if there’s anything interesting, but your mind keeps returning to the kiss, that goddamn kiss you won’t be able to forget anytime soon. Finally, you hear the sound of footsteps from the bedrooms, and Aaron eventually sits next to you with a troubled look on his face.

“Wanna talk about it?” you ask hesitantly.

He shakes his head with a sigh. “Not now.”

You nod as you lock your phone and turn to him. “I didn’t want to sneak out without a word. Thank you for the dinner and everything, but I should probably go now.” Before he could speak, you stand up and slip the phone into the pocket of the hoodie. The hoodie that still smells like him.

It hurts. It really does. You can see the sadness in his eyes, but he doesn’t want to talk about it, and you don’t want to force him to tell you what’s wrong. Maybe he needs some time alone now to think about whatever happened in his son’s bedroom.

You’re not good at this; the emotional conversations are the bane of your existence. You work, you go to parties, but most of your relationships are extremely shallow. You have absolutely no experience in emotionally supporting someone in need of it, and you sure as hell won’t practice on the man you like so much.

When you grab the doorknob, though, you suddenly see him put his hand on the door next to your head to keep it closed. You turn to him with a confused look on your face. He lets out a humorless laugh as he watches you.

“It’s not an easy topic, okay? I’ll tell you, I promise, just… not yet. I wanted you to know this,” he adds, then leans in to give you a soft kiss. You return it, but it feels different now, so you put a hand on his chest to gently push him away. Now it’s his turn to look confused. “Did I do something wrong?” he asks, and for the first time since you’ve known him, he sounds unsure of himself.

“No, it’s just getting late. Good night, Aaron.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but then he sees the determination in your eyes and gives up the fight before he could even begin. “Sure. Good night.”

[redpill-tfs]

sup mate I'm british can I get a red pill I hate it here.

I'd be glad to help you out mate. I'll send you the pill and a plane ticket shortly. You'll know what to do when you arrive at your destination.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You arrive at the London airport about a week later, ticket and pill in hand. Nothing else will be needed for your new life. You weren't told where you were going, and the ticket strangely doesn't say. It just has your name and the gate number. You're starting to feel a bit weirded out by it but anything is better than staying here in Britain, right?

You get through security with no issues, arriving at your gate just as the passengers are boarding. You sit down in your seat, ready for your new life to begin as the plane takes off not long after. The guy next to you is in a military uniform, looking at the nearly naked women in a magazine he brought. You try to hide your disgust in having to sit next to this guy for the whole flight. Those imperialist douchebags just bragged about the women they fucked and flexing in front of the bros. Totally unlike you in every way.

You remember the pill in your pocket and pull it out. It sits in the palm of your hand, almost begging to be swallowed. The in flight TV is playing news about debates in Parliament, but you can't bring yourself to pay attention. It's not as though British politics will matter to you anymore. that isn't to say you paid much attention before, not even taking the time to vote.

As the flight attendant brings you your water and the smallest bag of pretzels you've ever seen, you take the chance to finally take the red pill. It goes down on the first gulp. At first you don't feel anything. Was this all a scam? Are you going to be stuck in the US with only the clothes on your back and no way to contact anyone back home?

You don't have to worry for long, however, as you get a tingling feeling in your stomach. You squeeze past the guy sitting next to you and rush to the airplane bathroom, quickly locking the door behind you. You press your hands against the sink to support yourself. Were they always that big and calloused?

You take a look in the bathroom's mirror. Your hair has been cut into a short, standard brown haircut, not a hair out of place. Some stubble has grown onto your face, giving a nice mature but rugged look.

You stare in shock as your body changes. Any fat on your body is gone in an instant, replaced by pure muscle. Not too much, just enough to show you're in shape and train regularly. You feel your feet grow larger, now a size 14.

Your old clothes disappear in a flash as new clothes materialize in their place to match the new you. Your old nerdy t shirt is now a plain dark green, complimenting your new figure. Dark green camo pants accompany the look, perfectly showing off your longer legs. Was your butt always that much of a bubble butt? The pants sure don't hide it. A camo jacket drapes itself over your shoulders, the American flag displayed proudly on your bigger arm. Finally, a pair of boots plops onto your feet, ready for the days of training ahead. (Wait, training?)

That's right, you're heading back to base after taking a short vacation to the UK with your bro Jake. You've been in the army since you turned 18, hating your time in school and wanting to serve your country proudly, just as your father and grandfather did before you. You met Jake on the first day of bootcamp and became the best of bros ever since. You two constantly worked out together, ate meals together, and of course hit on women together when you took trips off base. You couldn't ask for a better wingman if your body count was anything to go by. The ladies love a man in uniform after all.

You give yourself one last look over in the mirror before you head back to your seat, giving Jake your special handshake as you sit back down next to him.

"You okay, bro? You were in there for a while."

"Yeah, broski. Just making sure I look good for the chicks, ya know?"

"If you say so bro. Hey, check out this chick in here."

As you refastened your seatbelt, you take a look back at the TV. FOX News is reporting how Trump is passing tariffs on Canada and Mexico. You smirk as you listen. You can't think of a better president than Trump, besides maybe Reagan. He was turning the country back around, making it a force to be reckoned with soon the global stage. Those sissy snowflake libtards could cry about it all they wanted, but you knew the country was on the Right path once again. You voted for Trump all three times he ran of course.

The flight landed in South Carolina not long after, and you and Jake set off back to Fort Jackson. Though sure no one would notice if you two snuck in a quick trip to a bar for a one night stand!

[sammyluvr]

✶ . ၄၃ . to leave him with love — sam winchester part two of my boy only breaks his favorite toys

cw : gn!reader, angst, guilty sam, trials!sam, sort of a sicfic in a way, talk of death/dying/injury, food mentions/eating, closure but not necessarily a "happy" ending, post-cage sam memory fuckery, swearing, poorly edited, set in season 8 so spoilers, 8K words. requested !

summary : three years after sam told you to go, you run into him while stopping for gas in a town called lebanon, kansas. you stay the night with him.

you’ve stopped by for gas, that’s all. you’re hungry too, but the gas station’s store is tiny and has a very poor selection of snacks. it’s clear to you that you’d be better off at the nearest grocery store or diner. a quick survey of the area brings a shop across the road to your attention. it looks bigger than this place, and you’d really rather not have to go any farther or take any longer than necessary. you have a job interview in the morning, and you want to be well rested and well prepared. the plain looking mart will have to do.

you jog across the street; it’s a pretty quiet town and there are no cars. the shop is quiet too, and already better than the gas station store as you enter. there’s just the cashier at the front, and a glimpse of brown hair in the back corner. you pay neither any attention as you browse the second row for something that will satisfy your hunger until you get to your hotel. the sound of crinkling plastic as you debate what to eat seems extra loud amidst the hush of the store. there’s no words until you reach the register, just footsteps and the indication of gathered groceries in the other customer’s shopping basket.

neither you nor the cashier bother to make any conversation outside of the necessary exchanges to get you checked out and on your way. it’s a still day, with flat grey skies and autumn well on its way. some might call it gloomy, and they wouldn’t necessarily be wrong, but you don’t mind it much. there’s nothing wrong with quiet, sometimes. that’s how it feels—the grey, the barren trees whose leaves had fallen early in the season, and the almost empty store—just quiet.

as you walk back towards the exit, the clatter of hard plastic on the ground is completely jarring, so much so that you physically startle, your head whipping around to the source of the noise. the single other customer’s basket has slipped from his hand to the loud tile. he looks unsteady, crouched to the ground and head bowed as hands that look like they should be strong skitter over the floor, collecting fallen grocery items. for a moment, you stare at those hands in a sort of wonder. they look so familiar, it makes your chest ache. they look like hands you’d once longed to hold, over and over again.

it takes eye contact with the man for you to realize they are indeed those hands. the thought that it could be him had certainly crossed your mind the instant you saw that exact shade of brown hair in the corner of the store. but it had crossed your mind so many times in the last three years that you never pay it any mind. it’s always a trick of the eye. a trick of the heart, maybe.

but there’s no mistaking those eyes. green sometimes, a dull grey in this lighting. some days, blue. other days like sunflowers. every day, an object of your love. he looks so tired, is the first thing you think, which feels sort of silly considering… well, considering everything. 

before, you’d always thought that movies tend to drag on momentous seconds of stunned eye contact for far too long, but this moment feels like forever. three years ago feels like forever ago. and you remember it like you walked out of that motel room door just this morning. there’s so much hurt. you’ve moved on. you love him still, but not quite as much. that’s another thing that’s forever, no matter what. you loving him.

you whisper his name and your feet carry you to him like you have no choice in the matter. he looks frozen. he looks like a deer in headlights. if you had your way three years ago, or ever, he’d be your dear in headlights. then you remember he’s not yours, never was, and never will be. but frankly, you don’t care too much about that right now. you sink to your knees in front of him and put his almond butter and pre-sliced multigrain loaf of bread back into the basket. you push it away and sit back on your heels and just look at him. you don’t give a damn that the cashier is staring.

for a moment, you wonder if this is some cruel joke, if he’s not real. just a figment of your imagination, or perhaps another shifter who’s come to trick you and use that shamelessly unending love of yours to lure you to your final demise. you could test him with the little silver knife tucked into your boot, but you don’t think you will, and you don’t think it’s needed. his shocked face blurs for a moment as you grow teary eyed, but you blink until you can see him clearly again.

“you look like hell,” you whisper, your expression an odd mix of a sad smile, adoring eyes, and your worried brow. he flinches at your words and it almost makes you physically recoil too. you’ve clearly said something wrong. he seems sort of broken, and you honestly think it could kill you. “i like your hair like this,” you say instead of sorry. it’s not said as an apology, though. you mean it. maybe you sound stupid to him, but you don’t really mind anymore.

you’re looking at the man who broke your heart, and somehow all you want is to take him in your arms and ask him why he looks so sick.

“sorry,” you murmur as your soft smile fades and a sick-with-worry frown takes its place.

“don’t say sorry to me,” he shakes his head, breaking his silence. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he sounds so weary, and certainly very sorry too. 

truthfully, sam doesn’t remember the details of the day you left. he remembers very few details from pretty much anything in his life that happened before the cage. but he remembers the feeling. he still feels it. the guilt, the love, the realization of how much he hurt you. the realization of how vastly and how long you loved him. even now, you look at him with love and he feels entirely undeserving of it.

“i know you are, sam,” you breathe out. it hurts to look at him, really. the anger lingers, but it’s had three years to mellow. goodness, you had always been content to love him quietly, just like today’s sleepy hush. it wasn’t until he loved you back that you couldn’t bear it, because he was intentionally denying you what he could finally give, should he choose to. for a few weeks, you were foolish enough to think that he might  make all your dreams come true. then, you were foolish enough to think you could change his mind when he started to pull away. he did not choose to give you his love, but instead to tell you to go. nothing hurt more than him telling you to go, you think.

sam doesn’t know what to do. does he ask you back to the bunker? does he just apologize over and over again while standing by his car in the chilly parking lot? does he tell you he has trouble with his memory these days, ask if you remember what he said so he can know exactly how he hurt you and say sorry for it? and probably torture himself with it for years to come.

you stand, picking up his shopping basket. the contents don’t make much sense to you. it’s all the sort of thing you’d take home, not to some motel you’ll only be in for as little as a day or two. but you ignore that for now, holding out a hand to help him up. “c’mon. you look like you should be in bed with a hot bowl of soup.” those words don’t make him flinch, so you hope they’re okay.

he takes your hand and stands on unsteady legs. his touch is like fire, maybe. his hands are very warm, like they always have been. but you think they’re hotter with fever. there’s no way he isn’t running a temperature right now. of course, there’s that sort of heat, and then there’s the burning sting of skin to skin contact with him. your chest tightens and you could mistake the feeling for heartburn if you didn’t know it was a sheer physical reaction to touching him after all these years.

you want to scream at him, cry about how horridly he broke your heart. make him feel guilty about how lost you were for almost a whole year after. how angry you were, how depressed, how reckless and teary and lonely. 

his shoulders look like they hold the weight of worlds, and you’re tired. your hand slips from his and you return to the cash register with his basket. the cashier who probably doesn’t get paid enough says nothing about the highly strange encounter they just witnessed. they just scan the items as sam follows you like a sad, sick puppy. he pays with a card you doubt is real. you carry his bags for him, and when he tries to take them from you, you shoot him a withering look that gets him to back down. right outside the door, one of his clumsy hands takes hold of the bags in your right hand and tugs them away with enough force that you just let it happen. you nearly roll your eyes.

you give a huff of breath. “you’re in no state to drive. i don’t even know how you made it here in the first place,” your eyes scan the little lot for the impala, but it’s not there. “let me drive you to where you’re staying.” you don’t actually say it as a request, and he doesn’t think he could deny you either way. so you wait for a singular car to pass before crossing the road again. he sees your car parked at the gas station and remembers it’s the same one you had before. he couldn’t recall the make and model until seeing it again.

to your surprise, sam doesn’t give you directions to the nearest motel. you pull into a driveway a bit aways from a large, nondescript building. you can easily guess that it mostly lays underground. he guides you inside, and you look out from the top of the stairs.

“what is this place?” you ask, almost in awe. already from here it looks like a hunter’s heaven. he gives you a slight smile as he leans against the railing.

“sort of a long story,” he says, sounding tired. 

you remember his state and wave your hand to dismiss the thought. “you can tell me later,” you say absentmindedly. you weren’t really thinking much because you’re not so sure he’ll really get the chance; you won’t be here long. “you should sit down.”

he starts down the stairs. “we’ll put the groceries away first.” you shake your head at his usual stubbornness and follow him into a kitchen, watching as he puts the few bags of food away. there doesn’t seem to be a lot of other food, nor a clear system to where things go, but to you it seems that he and dean must’ve been staying here for at least some time now. 

it’s strange. in all the time you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him like this; so unmistakably and oddly domestic. it’s such a simple thing, to be putting groceries away in one’s own kitchen. you think you could cry. you’ve imagined this before—putting groceries away in a kitchen of your own, with him.

you’ve imagined a lot of things with him before, and it was never anything like where you really ended up. maybe that’s what hurts the most about this all; you never imagined that you wouldn’t have him around. that he wouldn’t have you around.

“where’s dean?” you ask.

“out on a case. he left yesterday,” sam answers simply. he’s probably bothered that dean made him stay back because he’s sick. at least, that’s just what you assume to have happened.

you just give him a nod. now that you’re here with him, you have no idea what to do with yourself. do you talk about what happened that day? you sort of said everything you needed to back then. of course, you’re not the same person anymore, but honestly, you’re just still hurt. the ache is duller now, but you used to think up whole futures with him. you used to think of him as a given, or at least his friendship. in your mind, there was never the risk of losing him like you did. he could’ve prevented that, and he didn’t. he thought he was protecting you. that’s part of the anger.

then you look at him, hands trembling a bit, bags under his eyes, and a weight so heavy and unbearable that you can practically feel it too, hanging over him. and you look at yourself; the same sort of jeans you’d wear on a hunt, but slightly less practical shoes and a shirt you actually like the way it looks on yourself. there’s still that knife tucked into your left boot, but it’s only there for worst case scenarios, not because you’re always in danger. you used it to peel a fruit once. 

that day, you told him you wouldn’t leave hunting just so he wouldn’t worry. that you’d still be in danger, regardless if you’re around him or not, regardless of whether or not he loves you.

for a year, those things were true. you were so lost, so you threw yourself into hunting. you knew the signs of the apocalypse and ran straight towards them. even if it wasn’t to help sam—that’s what you told yourself—you still had a responsibility to try and protect the rest of the world. you have the foresight now to know that it was for sam, even then. you thought that if you could lift some of his burden, he’d come looking for you, and you’d shut him down so that you could break his heart back.

maybe tonight you’ll tell him you nearly died because of it. you nearly bled out on a cold, hard floor. but you made it out, stitched yourself back up, and told yourself, fuck this shit. before sam and dean, you were tied to hunting for other reasons. you had your own personal chip in the game, just like pretty much every other hunter out there. but by the time sam told you to go, you’d let go of those reasons, and you never realized such until that night you almost died. by then, it was just sam. he’s what kept you there, and you didn’t have him anymore, so it felt quite stupid to get yourself killed just to prove him wrong. he might not even ever have known. there’s a chance no one would have even found your body.

it really took you eleven and a half months and a near death experience to get you to start truly moving on. to start actually trying to move on. it was just so much easier to be ruined by his rejection. you deserved to act out, surely. the pain of it and the anger was more than you could handle at that time. and then you were just so tired. the exhaustion reached your bones, sunk in and dragged you down. you left hunting.

you’d wanted to prove him wrong so badly. you still believe wholeheartedly that this isn’t the way things should’ve gone, but maybe he was right, in a way. things are starting to look up for you these days. you’ve still got a lot of moving on to do, but you’ve started, at least.

you war between telling him you’re doing better now, that you got out, or telling him that you don’t care if you would’ve been beaten down and torn apart like he looks he has been because you would’ve been with him. you’d bear anything if it meant being with him. or you would have. it sort of hurts your heart because you don’t think that’s true anymore. and you suppose that’s a good thing, 

but somehow there was something easier about loving him blindly and unceasingly to the point of willingness to bear through hell. you don’t know it, but if you had stayed, it would’ve been a hell of sorts for you. it was much more hellish for him, in a way you’ll never know, but your suffering would’ve been horrible in its own right.

“i got out,” you whisper. he looks up at you in surprise. you’re not looking at him. he sits across from you at the little kitchen table. then, you meet his gaze. “i was just stopping by for gas. the gas station here has shitty snacks. i’m on the way to a job interview a couple of hours away from here. at eleven, tomorrow morning.”

his face is one of unbridled hope and relief. he smiles a bit and reaches for your hands resting on the table. you have to look away from him when they make contact and he notices, pulling away.

“i’m so happy for you. i’m so glad,” he says softly. he almost said he’s proud, but he realizes it’s not his place to say so. “and i’m sorry. i know i hurt you.” but he still just sounds mostly relieved. it means everything to him that you got away from it all and he’s scared that just running into you will throw you off this path.

you inhale sharply, then let it out slowly. “you did. more than i’d ever been hurt before,” you admit. “it tore me apart, sam. i loved you so much.”

his face falls again. he wonders what he said to you. what made you leave. and there’s a bit of hope. loved, you’ve just said. if you don’t love him anymore, that must be a good thing, he thinks. you still speak to him softly.

“i still love you,” you confess. you look him in the eyes, “very much, and i always will, i think. but not so much anymore. i had to move on or i’d get myself killed. i almost did. that first year, i put myself in so much danger just to try and prove you wrong. but i didn’t want to die, i just wanted you to have me back. it was so hard to rip myself away from it all because it felt like i was proving you right.” you can’t help but tear up as you speak. you missed him so dearly and so violently. you sort of feel like making bad decisions and throwing your progress out the window and kissing him and sticking around. that wouldn’t be healthy at all, and you don’t think he’d let you. you’ve grown enough restraint to know you won’t really do that to yourself either. 

“but it wouldn’t be fair to myself to come back to you after you told me i should go. i think it's the cruelest thing anyone’s ever said to me. when i think of your voice, the first thing i hear is how gently you used to talk to me. and then i hear your voice—it was so cold and even trying to be a bit harsh—saying ‘yes. you should go.’ and i still can’t understand how you could say that to me.” you have to pause to collect yourself, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

so he told you to go. that’s what he did, he told you to go. he feels wretched.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispers again. “i– i shouldn’t have said that to you.” he doesn’t say that he regrets the way things have turned out. he most certainly regrets hurting you like that. he regrets that you nearly died because of it. he wonders if you were alone. he’s terrified by the thought.

but after you left, he jumped into the cage with lucifer. his soul was stuck there for over one hundred years. his body came back, and soulless, he never could have loved you right. he wouldn’t have cared about you, and it would have hurt you so horribly. he would’ve hurt you so horribly. and then he came back, but he couldn’t remember anything. his memories came back next and he fell apart, understandably so. but not even all his memories remained intact. he forgot a lot about his life before the cage, about you. and he wouldn’t be able to bear your love. touch is still difficult for him. he’d have nothing to give you, plagued by hallucinations of the devil and haunted by the cruelest of hands. and now, he’s dying and you probably just think he’s running a bad fever.

“you shouldn’t have,” you agree. you sound more tired than angry, to him. he wishes he could remember what your voice sounds like when you’re happy, when you’re sleepy and smiley at the same time, when you get excited. hearing your voice at all brings some of it back. the tired and the sad and upset and angry and resigned come back quicker, though. 

you sigh. “i missed you.”

he missed you too, so he says, “i’m sorry.”

“it’s been so long,” you say. he nods, his pinky brushes against yours. you have no idea.

“so long. i missed you, too,” he risks saying, because he thinks from the way you’re looking at him that you want to hear him say it. your eyes look a little glossier, and you give a little sigh of relief. indeed, you did want to hear it.

there’s something in his voice when he echoes so long, as if it’s been a lifetime. it has been for him, but not you. he won’t tell you that, though. he’s decided to pretend like everything’s fine. that’s what he does all the time, but for a moment he had been considering telling you everything. 

maybe so you can know the extent of horrors you would’ve had to endure. and maybe to tell someone who will be thoroughly and unfailingly empathetic and kind and sorry about it. you’d most certainly hug him, even if you’re still angry at him. but the key is that you’d be sorry about it and he doesn’t want you to be sorry about anything at all. and if you hug him and stroke his hair and tell him you’re sorry he had to go through that all, he’s not sure he can come back from that. he’ll need you and he can’t afford that. he wouldn’t do that to you. 

and regardless of how foggy his memory is, he knows without a doubt that you’re too good for your own good. too sweet and feeling and he’s sure you’d feel guilty about not being there for him. he doesn’t want you to feel that way. so, he won’t say a thing. but he’d love to hear about everything from you, if you’re willing.

you cross your pinkies over his on the table, nothing else. “would you lay down in bed if i asked you to? i’m sure you haven’t been taking care of yourself. you look so sick, it’s a miracle you didn’t collapse in that grocery store.”

he doesn’t want to do that exactly, but he’ll do quite literally anything you ask him to. “aren’t you hungry?” he says. he remembers the snacks you bought, somehow even that you usually get hungry this time of day because of your eating habits. you must be extra hungry since you’ve been on the road.

you purse your lips like you wish he hadn’t evaded your question.

“yes, i’ll lay down. after you eat,” he relents.

“you should eat too. i’ll make us some sandwiches,” you say. that’s the deal, and he knows it. you’ll eat so long as he does it with you. that’s alright. he doesn’t have much of an appetite, but he likes the thought of eating something you make for him. he holds back a frown when your hands lift from his, even if the contact was so little before.

he rests his face in the palm of one of his hands, watching as you move through his kitchen, taking some of the groceries back out from where he put them away. to him, it looks like you're floating. you move slowly and softly and even though you bear the weight of seeing him again and having it all rush back to you after two years of trying to move on, your shoulders seem light. he watches you with so much love. now it’s his turn to imagine domesticity with you. 

you can feel his gaze, but you don’t look at him.

the sandwiches are eaten in silence. he watches you still. it’s not uncomfortable though. it’s sort of nice to know he wants to just see you, in any way at all.

maybe today is a day for ignoring most everything. for giving into it, for taking what you want and suffering the consequences later. holding his hand might plague you for weeks. and holding him close? likely much longer than just that. but it would make you feel better right now. to have him just for tonight. to get him to sleep, to leave him with love rather than anything else. that, at least, would make you feel better for longer than just the passing of today’s sun and moon.

you dump your plates and any other used dishes in the sink. you plan to clean them before you leave. in the morning, hopefully. you’ll still make it to your interview if you leave early enough.

then, you stand, hold out your hand, and wait for him to take it. the size of your hand in comparison to his doesn’t really matter. the way he reaches up and curls your fingers into his makes you feel like his hand is swallowing yours up in the softest way it ever could. he stands when you give the gentlest of tugs and leads you to his room just like he knows you want. he doesn’t let go of your hand because you don’t let go of his.

it feels silly to him to waste time laying down in bed while your here. he’s not sure he’ll ever see you again. that makes him want to cry. so he sits on the edge of his bed and guides you down to sit with him.

you don’t protest physically. “i wanted you to lay down,” you murmur, your hand finally falling from his.

“i’ll lay down when i go to sleep for the night,” he shakes his head softly.

“you said you’d lay down after eating,” you frown.

“laying down right now feels like a waste,” he answers, honest for once.”i’d rather sit with you.” you think you’re having heart palpitations. you rub your palms over your clothed knees. you’re feeling a little sweaty.

“you look so different,” you tell him, “you know, besides looking sick. how’d you get to look so ill?” you ask but don’t wait for an answer. “i meant it when i said I liked your hair like this, by the way. it’s looks nice long.” his cheeks heat up a bit and you can see his blush when you glance at him. it’s subtle and soft, but more obvious because of his pale, poorly complexion.

“thank you. you look great, really,” he tells you, quite earnest as he says it too. he thinks you look amazing. twenty six year old sam would go crazy like a school boy if he saw you know. he thinks he was twenty six back then. present time sam—he’s not sure how old he’s to be considered, probably twenty nine or thirty to you—still feels like he’s going crazy too, just not in the good old fashioned crush type of way. just in the way that you’re stunning, even though you’re tired and bedraggled from what he can guess has been a long and dreary drive. just in the way that he already knows he doesn’t have you.

“thanks, sam.” you can hear and see how much he means it. you reach a hand up and rest it on his forehead. you could already feel his body heat radiating from just being seated at his side. “you’re burning,” you inform him, “i don’t get how you’re sitting up straight right now.” he just gives a soft sigh.

“there’s a bathroom across the hall?” you ask, recalling the glimpse you saw on the way here. he hums a yes and lets you leave. you come back with two cool washcloths. one for his head and the other for the back of his neck. you hand him the first and he looks at it with a small smile. then he stills, barely breathing as you place the other on the back of his neck, brushing his hair out of the way. your fingertips in his hair and the cold cause him to shiver.

“have you taken any tylenol or anything today?” you ask. he shakes his head.

“it’s no use,” he says, but he doesn’t explain why. you furrow your brow.

“that’s silly. what, you don’t believe in modern medicine anymore?” your voice is just soft, not even teasing.

he purses his lips. “i do. tylenol won’t help, though.”

“i suppose you won’t tell me why?”

“i’ll have a dose. there’s a bottle in the bathroom,” he relents in answer. no, he won’t tell you why, that means. if he won’t tell you, that probably means it’s something bad. he’s probably not just suffering from a simple flu. even an untreated flu can be very dangerous, but his sickness is probably something worse. but he wants to pretend, and you sort of do too.

“okay,” you whisper. “you sure it won’t help?”

“i’ve been sick a while now. it doesn’t help,” he admits. you’re sure he won’t say anything more, but it most certainly makes you quite concerned to hear that.

you’re afraid to ask. “will you be alright?” it’s very hard to forget that you still love him. impossible, like this. so close to him, feeling the heat of his feverish skin and hearing the sound of his voice.

he doesn’t answer for a long moment, unsure what to tell you. “everything will be alright,” he decides. he knows that’s not what you asked. but he’s resigned to his fate whatever it is, so to him, everything will be alright. in a way. sort of, maybe. hopefully for you, at the very least.

you’ll have to settle for that answer because it’s the best one he can give you. you grab his hand that rests on his knee, palm up and still loosely holding that damn cloth you gave him.

“okay. hold that to your head. you might feel a little better, even if it’s just for now,” you say, guiding his hand up until he holds the washcloth over his forehead like you asked. you gently pull out the strands of hair trapped under it, tucking the stray pieces neatly away.

now, he honestly feels a bit cold. you tug over a folded blanket from the foot of his bed and drape it over his shoulders, hoping to keep any chills away. then you flip the cool rag on his neck to the other side, the side first in contact with his skin already grown warm. you settle next to him and sigh a bit.

you observe his room and he observes you. it’s very barren, hardly lived in. it must be strange for him to have somewhere much more long term than a motel, you think. 

your face is melancholy, he thinks.

“you’ve never actually said you love me,” you whisper. “or loved, or whatever. it’s okay if it’s loved. did you?”

“i do,” he breathes out. you nearly start crying, right then and there. your chest is tight and the breath you let out is shuddering. “i do love you, and i’m sorry.” he watches as you blink back tears. you nod a bit, feeling sort of pitiful. you don’t like the way you feel, but you’ve longed to hear it. you needed to hear it.

“no more saying sorry, please,” you request quietly. you’ve decided that he’s said it enough. not enough to make up for things, of course, but enough that you don’t want to hear it anymore.

he almost says sorry again, for saying sorry too much. “okay,” he agrees softly. you drop your head to his shoulder and he tenses. you nearly pull right away with an apology on your lips when you’re worried he’s uncomfortable with it, but his hand slips from underneath the blanket you gave him and wraps around your shoulders. you sit there for a long while, very quiet. eventually he dares to rest his head on yours.

his clammy warmth makes you sweat too, but you don’t care. you’re soaking it all up because you know you’ll never have it again. this will have to be enough.

you break the silence. “sam,” you sigh, sounding a bit defeated, very tired. “how did we get here?”

he sighs too. “you know how,” he sounds more defeated, more exhausted, more guilty. but he can’t say sorry again, because you asked him not to. you reach over and play with his free hand. he’d stopped holding the washcloth to his head a bit ago. your fingertip trails down each of his long fingers, drawing circles around his knuckles.

“you’ll miss me?” you ask, a hint of vulnerability slipping through the cracks of your calm.

he pulls you imperceptibly closer. you feel it. his heart aches and aches and aches. “i will,” he says, all sure and steady and reassuring, “very much. you’re the kind of person that’s very hard not to miss.” i’m sorry i’m not good enough for you, he thinks, since he can’t say it aloud.

“i’ll miss you too. i miss you every day,” you breathe out. he wishes you wouldn’t. he wishes you’d never have to ache for him at all, but you do. you have for so long, maybe it’s a part of you now. aching is certainly a part of him.

“please don’t miss me too much,” he murmurs, wondering if he’s allowed to ask that of you.

“i’ve been learning how,” you tell him. “some days i barely miss you at all. some days i even forget that i miss you until i’m reminded of you. which is often, unfortunately. i spent years coming up with ways to associate just about everything in the world with you. just because you were everything in my world.” you’re tired. your eyes fall closed. “not anymore, though.”

“well… someday i hope i’m something very small and manageable,” he whispers.

“i don’t,” you refute on instinct. you sigh and deflate. “i do. you’re just very tall.” he has to bite back a bark of surprised laughter. he grins instead, since you can’t see his face. he’s just glad you haven’t held back from saying something funny. you huff out a laugh, eyes drifting back open.

“i’m hungry,” you decide, “i’m going to make some dinner.” 

you eat alone in the kitchen. once you were left to your own devices to cook, you realized you needed to breathe. you couldn’t do so very well around him. so, you selfishly eat first—it’s not really selfish at all, as sam still has no appetite and couldn’t ever blame you for doing so—and bring back a plate of food for him. he’s sitting at his desk pouring over a book, it’s small text likely giving him an awful headache. you set the plate down next to him and sit on his bed again. you watch as he manages to eat some of it, but he doesn’t finish the portion.

you seem content just watching him, so he pushes the plate aside with a very sincere thank you and a cut-off apology for not finishing it. he continues reading his book, just for a bit. he’s hunched over the old thing, shoulders somehow slumped and tense all at once. you stand quietly and softly, hesitantly slide your hands over his shoulders. he stiffens, then relaxes.

nimble fingers pull the blanket wrapped around him back a bit. “can i unbutton your shirt?” you whisper, only because you can see a grey undershirt peeking out from the flannel’s collar.

“don’t,” he shakes his head, “don’t take care of me. you don’t have to keep doing that. it’s not fair.”

“i won’t if you really don’t want me to. but.. won’t you let me have this? just this once?” you ask, telling him that you want to.

“you don’t have to,” he says, softer. but you can, is the part left unsaid. 

your hands slip down, undoing the buttons until it brings you too close to him to bear. he takes over for you, sensing your hesitation to move any closer once your breath hits his neck, unbuttoning the last three and shrugging the shirt off.

you start with simple, soothing rubs over his shoulders, trying to get him to actually relax. he finds that your roaming hands are easily bearable, welcome, even. he worried that he’d flinch or cringe away, especially as you opened up his shirt. but his hands fall into his lap and his chin begins to dip lower and lower. you watch in satisfaction and slowly work out the tension in his muscles. you think that, since you’re here, you need your time with him to be lovely and gentle. maybe you shouldn’t have the memory of what it might’ve been like to have him. maybe this will slow your moving on, slow your feet to a trudge.

the war in your chest tells you that you’re toeing the line between healing and harmful by being here, by indulging in what you feel was taken from you. but you know it never would’ve been this simple all the time. life is easier away from him, in some ways. away from the things that being with him brings along. so you’ll steal this now and bury it in your flesh and then walk out the door. this will be the last of him face to face, hopefully the worst of the torture. 

oddly enough, you think you’ll survive it. you just are starting to wish that you could kiss the back of his neck as you brush the hair from it. you won’t. you won’t kiss him anywhere, not ever. except for the time you kissed him on the cheek the first time you’d seen him after he came back to hunting. you meant it as a friendly one, and that’s certainly how he took it back then.

you stand there massaging his shoulders until your legs grow tired and knees a bit bothered, then a little longer after that. tender hands lay still there, thumbs barely edging past his t-shirt to rest on his skin as you twist your head and take a peek at his face. his eyes are satisfyingly closed.

your thumbs give a gentle back and forth movement, pushing a little at the hem of his shirt. “to bed,” you whisper, patting his shoulder lightly. his eyes drift back open and he lets out a long breath. you step away, hand trailing down his arm as you head to the bed. his hand catches yours before it loses contact and he follows you without another word. he just lets you do as you like. he owes you that much, and more, for telling you to go.

when you pull back the covers, he climbs in and you follow after him. he opens his arms to you, despite being a bit surprised. he tucks you into his chest and his eyes sting with tears for a moment before he’s able to blink them away.

and then you talk and talk because you don’t want to hear whatever happened while you were gone. you’re sure that sort of thing would weigh you down much more than you deserve. so you tell him everything, to get it all off your chest. you still feel closer to him than anyone else you’ve met in these last few years. and it’s not as if you can tell the full truth to anybody in your new life. your voice is quiet and gentle and lulling, and even when his eyes close, he listens with rapt attention.

his fever makes him even warmer than he usually is, so you eventually have to escape from his hold. you don’t part, but you shift up and tuck his head into your chest instead. that way you’re not as smothered in his heat.

“...and you know, i forgave you a while ago. there was no use holding a grudge,” you murmur. his brow creases. he doesn’t feel as though he should be forgiven. “i am doing better. away from it all. you were sort of right. you were wrong, but right. i guess it doesn’t really matter who was right, though, because we can’t really change anything now.”

“you’re allowed to be mad about it,” he says. he’s still so glad that you feel like you’re doing better, though. so glad.

“i was. so angry. still am, sometimes. but being mad never really got me anywhere. it was just something i needed to feel until i could start moving on,” you explain. you’d already told him just ten minute about how angry you had been. about how it made you bitter and a plain old hot mess for some time. “think about it, sam,” you urge him, “isn’t it a good thing that i still love you? even if it hurts sometimes and even after i was so mad. isn’t it good that that’s what’s leftover? i’d rather love you than be angry at you, because– well, because i don’t like being angry. this feels better. it doesn’t hurt as much, and i’m learning how to live with it. anger isn’t quite so liveable. if it helps, it’s for me. i– everything used to be for you. but it’s not anymore.”

that does help, but he doesn’t know how to not feel sorry for everything. “i can hear you hurting,” he whispers. “i can hear it in your voice.”

“yeah,” you breathe back, “but it’s more like an ache, sam, and it’ll go away. it’ll go away, and it would make me feel better if you wouldn’t feel so sorry anymore. give yourself this much. to know that i’ll end up just fine and that i’ll always love you. you worry so much, so don’t worry about me. as a favor.”

there’s a long silence. for a moment, you think that your voice has finally put him to sleep.

“i’ll try,” he says, just for you.

you let a new silence fall. that will have to be enough, so you let him be. he falls asleep, and it’s easy to tell just how deeply he rests. with his sickness and constant bone-deep exhaustion, it’s completely unsurprising.

as for you, you stare at the darkened ceiling after switching off the bedside lamp and run your fingers through his hair, over and over again. you’ve always loved his hair, and you love the length, but you sort of miss when it was boyish. 

you start to cry and even when your chest shudders with uneven, tear-filled breath, he doesn’t wake. you shake and sniffle and wet his pillow and his hair with your tears. he hardly stirs, which you’re infinitely glad for. you couldn’t bear to receive his comfort were he to wake.

you cry yourself to sleep, sweaty and snoring with your whole arm going numb from the position you’re in.

one would think sam would sleep long and heavy. but these days, while he’s not a light sleeper, he’s been a restless one. most nights he wakes in feverish discomfort every couple of hours. he supposes that your presence has kept him asleep for longer than usual tonight, but not until the morning.

he wakes to the dark and one of your still hands in his hair. the other has fallen limply onto the sheets. he shifts slowly and carefully so he can tilt his head up to look at your face. his eyes adjust to the darkness quickly. sam reaches up with a tired hand, brushing his thumb over your cheek. he’s met with the slightest resistance. your tears haven’t fully dried, and he realizes that he’s wiping at teartracks. you might’ve even been crying in your sleep.

and since you can’t hear him, he whispers, “i’m sorry.” he wants to lay awake, feeling the rise and fall of your chest, hearing your little snores in tandem, and seeing you for as long as he can. but sleep drags him under once again, his hand falling from your cheek to rest on your neck.

you wake early, knowing exactly where you are before you open your eyes. the weight of sam’s body, halfway on top of yours, is hard to miss. the memory of his nearness is the sort that floods through you the second you can think of anything at all. you know what you have to do, but it hurts more now that the time has come. there’s no more pretending left to do, no more sand at the top of the hour glass. your time with him has run out for good.

you reach up and gently hold his hand that lays over your neck. you’ll make your interview in time if you lay here for just a few more minutes. then you slide out from under him, careful with his sleeping body, cupping the side of his head to be sure it gets to the pillow as gently as possible. he rolls onto his stomach, just how he always does when he’s not sharing the bed. you used to tease him for it, but he looks so soft and peaceful that it just makes you even more endeared with him.

it’s not very possible to resist from brushing a strand of his mussed hair away from his face. his cheek is squished against the pillow, lips slightly parted, and face still looking sickly. he looks weak in his sleep, vulnerable. his hulking frame seems small, his matured features worn tired with much more than age. he’s still young, really.

“oh, you really know how to just tear someone’s self restraint to shreds, don’t you?” you mumble, shaking your head at him. he doesn’t stir when you speak, just as you expected. you swoop down, not at all graceful, and press the softest of kisses to his cheek. since you’ve kissed him there before all those years ago, you tell yourself it’s alright. it’s nothing new. just that you’ve kissed his left cheek this time. the first, it was his right. how or why you remember that, you’ll ignore.

then you tuck him in properly and erase the room of all signs that you were ever there. you grab the plate of food you brought him last night, and steal one last glance of him before shutting the door quietly behind yourself. “bye, sam,” you whisper to the closed door. “be careful, please.”

you wash all the dishes from yesterday, put them right back where they were, and ensure the kitchen is exactly how it was when you entered for the first time. not really as a favor. you don’t clean anything else but the dishes, nor do you organize the mess that the fridge is. 

the only traces of you that remain are the ache in the air, the missing slices of bread from the new loaf on the counter, and the folded flannel shirt that will greet him on his desk when he wakes. but you will be gone, once again and for the last time.

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

Hi! could I request a fic where theres a killer that goes after 13-16 year old girls with brown hair and thats Hotchners daughters age and description. She somehow gets taken and when they find her she is like tied to a chair or somthing and Hotch thinks she got SA but she does not! But he goes all dad mode and morgan scoops her up in a blanket lots of comfort!!!

Aaron Hotchner X Daughter Reader

Request: Hi! could I request a fic where theres a killer that goes after 13-16 year old girls with brown hair and thats Hotchners daughters age and description. She somehow gets taken and when they find her she is like tied to a chair or somthing and Hotch thinks she got SA but she does not! But he goes all dad mode and morgan scoops her up in a blanket lots of comfort!!!

Third person pov...

It happened so fast that even Y/N had trouble remembering what happened. She rememberd she had jsut said good bye to her Dad and was on her way to school.

Her dad had been worried, There was a killer on the loose, targeting young girls between the ages of thirteen to sixteen with brown hair. The victims were always found tied to a chair, brutally beaten and traumatized.

Aaron was a part of the team assigned to the case and it hit too close to home. His own daughter fit the description of the victims, making him even more desperate to catch the killer.

The man had been weary about letting his daughter out, but realised he could keep her under lock and key, she had her life to live and had to go to school.

The 14 year old was casually walking to school, her bag on her back and happy walking in the sun, she passed by a suspicious car.

The instant she did she felt the persons eyes on her, it heightened her anxiety but she kept on walking to school. Slowly she got out her phone from her pocket and began tapping on it.

A man then got out of said car, he was tall, kept his head down, he began to follow the teen. Y/N looked behind her every few seconds while tapping on her phone.

She was planning to text her dad and began walking quicker, she heard the man walk faster to catch up with her.

The brown haired girl taps her Dads contact and begins typing, they had a code word for incidents like this she had to be quick.

DADDIO

Y/N

Ech

"Hey there" comes voice from behind the girl scaring her. She turns quickly and hides her phone, the teen looks up it was the guy following her.

She stared at the man, not saying a word. This made the man angry, Y/N saw grit his teeth slightly, she then inches away slightly from him.

The guy keeps a friendly smile on his face as he looks at the young girl. "Sorry for scaring ya. Just wanted to ask if you could tell me where the library is?" He asks the girl, Y/N relaxes slightly, her legs tense she was ready to run if the guy posed as a threat.

She looks at the time on her phone her message to her dad still open. Once seeing the time she looks back up. "Sorry can't help you I'm running late for school" she says to the man soundly apologetic.

She turns to run but her wrist is grabbed, the mans grip was hard and it was painful. Y/N tried to wretch her arm away but it only made the grip on her wrist tighten, he was twisting her wrist a way it shouldn't go.

Tears at the corner of her eyes she tried to yell for help but one look from the guy said 'you scream and I break it' so she kept her mouth shut, with her hand gone she uses her other to try and text behind her back.

She taps on her phone suddenly it falls from her grip. Looking at the ground I  horror her phones screen was horribly cracked, she jsut hoped she was able to send the message.

The man then begins dragging her to his car, unlucky for her know one was around to see her being dragged off. Suddenly everything went black.

With Hotch...

Aaron Hotchner had just arrived at the office after seeing his children off to school, he sighs as he walks into the Bullpen.

The others had already arrived and were standing around Reids desk. Hearing his phone go off he gets it out, upon lookomg at the screen his face goes pale.

Gideon who was walking towards the man noticed the man face instantly and was worried. "Hotch? What's wrong?" He asks the man, drawing the attention off the team.

Soon they all surrounded their unit chief. The man had an iron grip on his phone, his eyes never leaving the screen. "Hotch, man tell us has something happened?" Asks Derek he taps the man's shoudler.

This seemed to jolt the man out of his frozen state. "Y/Ns in trouble" the team act, everyone gathering in the round table room.

Echo was there codeword for danger and Y/N and Jack knew they should knly use if for emergencies, Hotch knows Y/N would never abuse that rule.

Hotch pacing in the corner, Derek and Elle going over the evidence they have, Reid trying to form a geo plan of the unsubs comfort zone, JJ was on call with crime lab, Gideon ws thinking the evidence over while still calming down Hotch the man was wearing a hole into the floor.

"Hotch, you have to stay calm, we need you at your best to find Y/N" reasoned Gideon, the man managed to get the worried man to claim down slightly, he stopped pacing but tapped his finger against his leg instead

"Anything yet?" He asks impatiently. The team all shakes their heads, the man impatience grows as they work. Suddenly JJ gets a call. "Yes hello this is Agent Jareau, you have something" her voice gains the attention of the others.

"They found where Y/N had been taken" she explains to them Hotch visibly relaxes. Then JJs face goes worried. "What's wrong JJ?" Questions the man his anxiety on edge.

JJ thanks the person and ends the call. "Im sorry Hotch, all they could find was her phone. The screen had been smashed" she tells the worried Dad.

Hotch freezes. "What" he whispers as the team watch him.

With Y/N...

The 13 year old was in a dark room, stripped off her skirt and shirt, only in her shorts (she wears under skirts) and her tank top on. Shivers rack her naked body.

Either fear or the cold she didn't know, shivering she slowly looked around her head in pain from the punch she got from the man, she tried to move only her legs and wrist where tied to the cold uncomfortable chair she was on.

"Someone help me,please" she whispers to herself, she wants her dad, she wants to be home and in her dad's arms. "Daddy" she sobs to herself, suddenly a door is opened.

A bright light comes from a staircase she just realised, tears running down her face she sees the man from before walking down and coming towards her.

Shaking again she tries to move the chair away from the freak, she aches to be able to kick the man in the goods. " No go away leave me alone" she shouts to him, the man had a frightening look on his face.

As he got closer Y/N saw something shimmer in the light, it was a knife. E/C eyes widened in terror, her wiggling increased. "No no get away! Daddy daddy!" To her luck footsteps are heard upstairs.

She screams louder hoping to draw their attention to the basement. "Daddy daddy down here hurry" the man gabbed her face harshly to stop her from screaming.

The damage was done "let the girl go you son of a bitch!" Yells a very familiar voice, it was Derek Morgan one of Y/Ns uncle. E/C eyes once again fill with tears at the sight of her Dads team.

She sees the horrified looks on Elle, Gideon and Derek faces as the creep puts the knife against her throat, his face still covering her mouth.

Behind them she sees her Dad his face is angry, he wasn't happy. Taking a chance she bites the man hard, with a cry he let's her go but shoves the girl away making her fall back hitting her head on the wall.

Vision swimming she hears a gunshot, the creeps body falls next to her, muffled shouts are heard, before long she was being untied, then picked up by someone, recognising the scent she realises it was Derek.

She wraps her aching arms around his neck tightly as he wraps her in many blankets, sobbing loudly he tries to comfort her.

Derek rubs the girls back as Hotch gets a few punches in on the Unsub, he hated how long it to them to find him and save Y/N.

The traumatized girl continues to cry as Derek comforts her, once Gideon finally pulled Hotch off the Unsub the man remembers his daughter and goes to her.

Feeling guilty about not comforting her first, Derek puts the girl in his arms and walks away, Hotch shushes and bounces Y/N in his arms.

"Your safe now baby, its Daddy" he comforts, her Y/N continues to cry happy she was saved. "Dad your here your here" she cries Hotch just hugs her tightly not letting her go. "I'm here baby" he whispers.

The end!

Long one for this request.

Hope you liked this oneshot, so sorry for the wait of updating, I've been busy with classes. As usual sorry for any grammar and Spelling mistakes.

Request are open!

Word count: 1610

[lokis-army-77]

Piece of Cake

Dom!Eddie Munson x sub!fem reader

Word Count: 2.0k

Eddie catches you sneaking something you shouldn't and then you lie to him... so obviously you have to be punished

Warning: 18 +. spanking with a belt, handcuffs, sir kink, fingering, butt plug, aftercare, squirting, dom eddie, sub reader.

Masterlist

“And just what are you doing?” Eddie's voice startled you, causing you to jump and almost drop the cake box you were trying to remove from the fridge only a few seconds prior quietly. 

“Uh… nothing.” You quickly try to cover your actions, reaching for something random and pulling it out. “Just grabbing some…” you look at what you had snatched, “relish.” 

Eddie looked at you, arms crossed and eyebrows raised scepticly. “Oh really? Because to me, it looked like you were getting into the cake that I specifically told you not to touch.”

You stood there, back to the fridge, the cold air, and Eddie’s gaze, making goosebumps appear on your skin. “I was just moving the box so I could reach this.” You hold up the relish bottle and shake it, hoping he will take the bait.

The prolonged silence and the way he watches you with beady eyes make you uneasy. You avoid eye contact like your life depends on it, and your hands fiddle with the plastic condiment bottle. 

“You aren’t lying to me are you, baby doll?” He asks as he slowly pushes off the threshold and stalks around the kitchen counter to you. 

Shaking your head, you answer him. “No, Sir.” 

Eddie takes the relish from your hands, places it back in the fridge, and shuts the door. “You know I don’t like it when you lie to me. I’ll give you one more chance to tell me the truth.” 

You know you should tell him what you were doing, but you had to stick to the lie. So you try with all you have in you to look into those brown eyes and not look guilty as you spoke, “I’m not lying, Sir.”

Your hair stands on end when the soft features of his face turn ridges and sharp in an instant. His eyes darken and his jaw ticks. 

What scares you the most is how calm he is when he speaks next. “We have rules in this house, little girl, and you just broke two of them. And to make matters worse, you broke the most important one twice.” 

Being in trouble always made your stomach tie in knots. You hated seeing the disappointment on your boyfriend's face and this time was no exception. 

“Eddie please I’m-” 

“Ah, ah, ah. That’s not my name right now and you know it.” He grasps your face in his large hand, squishing your cheeks with his thumb on one side and the other four fingers on the other. “Don’t even tell me you’re sorry, you don’t even know what that means but you will.” 

You feel dread wash over you as he forces you to look at him. 

“I want you to go to the bedroom, find the cuffs, belt, lube, and your plug, and place them on the bed. Then, I want you to take those shorts off and lay face down. Got it?” 

You nod as best you can in his harsh grip. “Yes Sir.” 

“Good. I’ll be there in a minute.” He lets go and you scurry down the hall to the room. 

Your heart beats a mile a minute as you collect everything Eddie asked for and it doesn't subside as you lay down on the bed. Nervously, you chew on your bottom lip, making it raw and red. 

The rush of blood in your ears is so loud that you only hear Eddie’s footsteps coming once he’s already made it into the bedroom. 

He doesn’t speak as he gets to work. First are the handcuffs, they are cold against your wrists as he secures them behind your back. Next, the pillow he fluffs up and shoves under your hips, helping to raise and present your ass. 

Large hands roam over the exposed skin of your thighs before they take hold of your thong and move it down below the curve of your ass. 

“You know I hate having to punish you, right?” He asks, climbing onto the bed behind you, his legs slotted on either side of your own. 

“I know, sir.” You respond. 

Eddie hums. “Do you? I don’t think you do, or else you would be my perfect little angel all the time.” 

You shake your head, “I do, I do. I’m sorry, Sir, it won’t happen again.” 

There’s a sudden smack to your ass. “Quit moving,” he commands and you do. “I want you to tell me why it is I’m having to punish you.” His words are emphasized by the creaking sound of the lube cap being opened. “Then, I will spank you with this belt until I feel you have learned your lesson.” He begins to squirt the lube generously onto your puckered hole. 

The cold makes your hips jerk but he holds you still. Then something even colder is placed onto the warm skin down there. With shaking breath, you feel him rubbing the metal butt plug through the lube, coating it. 

“Come on, tell me what you did.” 

Taking a deep breath, you begin. “I lied to you.” 

He circles your entrance with the toy. “Go on.” 

“I lied to you twice.” You turn your face into the comforter as he begins to push the plug in, the sudden stretch is a lot.

“About what?”

You groan, hands pulling at the cuffs as he takes the plug out and pushes it back in just a little farther. “Sir-”

“I asked you a question. What did you lie to me about?”

“I-I lied to you about getting a piece of cake.” You stutter. 

“And why was that against the rules?” 

“Because I had two pieces today already and you told me I couldn't have more!” The last of your sentence comes out in a jumbled moaning mess as Eddie pushes the plug all the way inside.  

“So disappointing…” He wraps the belt around his hand and begins to slowly stroke it against your ass. “You knew you weren't supposed to do what you did and yet you still disobeyed me.”

 You take a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself for the pain. He smacks you once and you gasp, feeling the sting across your skin.

“I'm sorry!” You cry out, hips moving away from the quick hits of the belt on your bare ass. 

“Sorry? I don’t think you are baby.” Eddie continues to belt you, his grip strong and unforgiving. You try to move away but he holds you in place, forcing you to take the punishment. 

Tears stream down your face as the pain settles into your skin. “Please,” you beg him, “no more.” 

He stops the belt for only a second to ask, “Color?”

“Green,” you heave through snot and sobs. “I’m green, Sir.” 

With your answer, he keeps going. Each sharp sting of the belt against your quickly welting skin has you shuddering with an ache. The punishment hurt but it also created a dull throbbing between your legs. 

Each hit had you clenching around the plug seated deep in your ass and with each contraction of your muscles, you couldn’t help but feel empty in the one place you needed Eddie: your cunt. 

You haven’t a clue how many times the belt made contact with your skin but when he eventually stopped, a cry of relief flew past your lips. 

“Did so good for me baby doll.” Eddie finally gave you praise as soft plush lips kissing the hot, reddened skin of your ass. You whimper at the feeling. 

He watches you for a moment, eyes tracing over every curve of your body. He counts every whelped, raised belt mark displayed on your ass. So when your thighs clench and your hips begin to undulate against the pillow beneath you, Eddie does not miss it. 

“My poor baby, did your punishment make you all needy?” he asks.

You nod, your hair tangling under you as you do.

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

It takes everything in you to answer him. “Yes sir.”  

He pulls back and smirks, his eyes darkening with pleasure. “Good girl. Now, tell me what you want.”

“Want you… Please I want you so bad. Need your fingers, your cock, inside me. Please.” You are desperate. There is an emptiness inside you begging to be filled and the only thing that could ease the intense want in your bones is your boyfriend fucking into you. 

“Yeah? Is that what you need?” Eddie tosses the belt to the side, no longer needing it. “I will warn you, sweet girl, this is still a punishment. Don’t even think I’ll go easy on you.”

You lament, “Doesn’t matter, just need you in me, please.” 

Eddie wastes no time lifting your hips, forcing you to keep your weight on aching, wobbling knees. His thumb presses into the jeweled end of the anal plug, pulling a moan from your chapped lips.

“What’s your color right now baby doll?” He asks as deft fingers run down from the plug to your quivering cunt. You can feel how wet you are as he spreads your lips. The cool air of your bedroom wafts over your juices. 

“I’m green.” You whine, cantering your hips back into him. 

Without warning, Eddie's middle and ring fingers plunge into you. He wasn’t slow, his fingers pumped in and out of you at a pace so fast, it was hard to comprehend with your already fuzzy mind. 

Your wrists pull on the metal of your binds as you arch your back deeper. You open and close your fingers, wordlessly begging him.

Eddie sees your fingers flexing and asks, “What is it you need Sweetheart?” 

“Hand.” You groan. “Hold hand.” Your arms stretched as far back as they could to reach him and he eased your efforts by reaching out his free hand and grasping both of yours. 

You hold onto him tightly and he continues to finger fuck you. His long thick fingers are pushing up into your walls creating aquelching sounds and pulling noises you never knew you could make past your lips. 

It doesn’t take long for you to fill the pounding in your veins. Like the beat of a war drum, your heart beats fast and hard, pumping blood through you. The pit in your stomach has become a chasm and Eddie is doing his damndest to push you over the edge. You’re there, teetering at the side and all it takes is the introduction of a third finger, his pointer finger. 

With the stretch of that third digit, you let out a cry loud enough for the whole of Hawkins to hear you. “Gonna cum.” You scrunch your eyes hard. “Please, let me cum Sir.”   

Eddie grunts, moving his fingers faster. “Alright, baby. Cum for me.”

Your body is spasming, your hands grasp Eddie’s in a death grip, your thighs shake and lock and you feel a relieving gush from between them. 

The spasms stop and your muscles release. Eddie is quick to uncuff you and start on aftercare. 

He gives you kiss after sweet kiss as he cleans the mess you made of yourself and the bed beneath. Warm hands rub in soothing lotion over the areas he has spanked. 

You just lie there, whimpering when he touches a sore place.

“I know, I know. I'm sorry, baby. You did such a good job for me.” He praises. You smile weakly in response. He pulls you into a tight embrace and whispers, “I love you so much.” He kisses you again before letting you go.

“I’m sorry,” You mumble into the sheets, suddenly still guilty for lying. 

“Shh, it’s okay, I know you are.” He lays next to you, pulling you in closer. “How about we lay here for fifteen minutes, then I take you to the bathtub?

You think about it for a second before nodding into his chest. “That would be nice. Thank you, Eddie.”

You can feel him smiling into your hair as he responds, but before you can hear the words, you've already drifted off into a much-needed sleep.

[strwbivy]

ASKING HAIKYU MEN TO BUY YOU.. PADS .ᐟ.ᐣ

synopsis. i think the title pretty much sums it up, just short scenarios when you ask them to buy pads :)

wc. 1.4k words | genre. fluffy, w/ sight crack | cw. f!reader (obv), romantic relationship, slightly suggestive flirting (～￣▽￣)～ featuring. ❛ TSUKI, KAGEYAMA, HINATA, KUROO, BOKUTO❜ parts. Ⅰ. Ⅱ.

m.list // hq. masterlist

you've got mail ✉ ! reposted post i remember having sm fun writing this! i'm having mixed feelings with the manga headers grr, i really have nothing else to say so, READ WELL READER !

♡—TSUKISHIMA KEI

he knows what pads are, but when it comes to buying them, he feels slightly embarrassed, but with you in need of them, he gathers all his courage and goes out to buy it. and after making his purchase, he comes at your house with your (fav food) in hand and your requested item in his other hand, and surprisingly enough, he got the right one. but little did you know he actually stood at the display of pads and napkins for a good few minutes and stood there clueless. overnight pads? liners? pads with wings!? what are those?!? he's so confused with the different kinds of types! so he decided to close his eyes and let his hand randomly pick a pack. he made his way to the cashier and hesitantly placed the item on the checkout, and he managed to pay for without making eye contact with the cashier.

♡—KAGEYAMA TOBIO

he probably doesn't quite know anything about pads, so he asks you about it, and he'll buy it without any shyness. he asked one of the workers where the pad section was, and he made his way there. he was in awe on how many variations pads actually had! he eyed each kind and tried to make his choice, but he realized, 'what if you needed this kind? or this other one?' he didn't know what pick, so as a solution to his problem, he bought one of each type. when he was paying, he didn't notice that there were a few women wowed and maybe even overwhelmed at how much he was buying. and so here we are, he stood at the front door of your home, he was holding a heavy paper bag full of pads. just right about when he was about to knock, the door was swung open by you. you stood there, having your mouth agape to the brown bag he was holding. he literally bought you a one whole year supply of napkins!

♡—HINATA SHOYO

he's similar to tsuki, except that he knows that pads have different kinds. he doesn't quite know what they are for but will buy what you need specifically. just right after you texted him, he was already at the door?! you swore that only a few minutes passed by after you texted him, well he did say he was gonna be there in a minute. how did he get there immediately? well. after he received your 'urgent' text, he ran his little legs in an instant. and when he got to the store, he acted hastily and grabbed the kind of pad you needed, and he also took a bar of chocolate for you. then he paid for it before running out of the store again. so here we are, his hands rested on his knees. he was letting out quick breaths while beads of sweat were coming down from his forehead. "here.. i ran as fast .. i could!" he said, almost having a breath between each word. he gave you the bag, and you thanked him with a kiss on the face—causing him to show his signature winning smile.

♡—TETSURŌ KUROO

he knows what pads are for and how periods work, but he can't understand why you need them when he can make it make one's period (yours) be gone for 9 months. he's slightly saddened, but he knows that there will be a time soon he'll be able to do it.. soon enough. but he just simply walks to a store and buys you a pack of regular pads, and he makes his way to your beloved home, and he gives your needed item. smiling at you, he plants a kiss on both of your cheeks, and he stays at your humble abode for a while to take care of you because your period cramps started to get worse. he brewed you some tea and heated up your heating pad to help lessen the pain. you thanked him for being a helpful boyfriend while he placed the heating pad on your belly, and the both of you sweetly cuddled in each others arms ♡

♡—KŌTARŌ BOKUTO

he has no idea what pads are exactly for, but he did just as what you had asked for. he took the pink ones— and just like what you said pink, and he bought it. he then cheerfully skipped to your house, his arms swaying the bag with your needed item in it. just as he reached your front door, he rang on your doorbell and waited patiently. he was oddly eager to see you, but it wasn't really surprising for him to be. a v-smiled shaped appeared when he saw you opening the door, and he straight away hugged you, causing you to lose your balance, making the two of you stumble right there on the floor. thank god you didn't hit your head on the floor, or else things would have taken for a turn. he said his sorry's, but he didn't bother to get up. "y/n! i bought you the thing!" he said, putting up his arm to show you the bag. you can't tell if he's ignoring the fact he's on top of you or he just doesn't mind it. "kotaro.. get up," you said as you pushed him by the chest, and he just let out a joy-filled laugh. though he helped you get up and he gave you the bag. you thanked him by rewarding him with a kiss on his cheek. and just as you opened the bag, you took a look at the pad he bought. it was.. the wrong one. you probably could have specified it more. but sure he did bought the pink one.. turning your head at the smiling owl, you smiled at him sheepishly. he tilted his head in confusion. if there's one thing that bokuto very much knows, it's how your smiles looks, and the smile you have right now.. isn't your usual cheery smile. so he moved closer. "y/nnn?? is there something wrong?", you tried to say no but saying the truth is more likely better. "ahh..eh.. kotaro.." you sighed before continuing, "you bought the wrong one.", the contoured parts of his hair then curved downwards representing the new mood he's in right now. he then resented his disappointment as he rested his on the crook of your shoulder. "augh... please don't ever let me buy anything again y/n!' the pout on his mouth only growing more as he hugged you tightly. you only giggled at him and said that it's okay. the owl was once again, in his emo mode o(TヘTo)

copyright © strwbivy ↣ do not copy, translate or repost.

[little-miss-bioweapon121]

Part 3 Sangy and Baby this time as experienced by one of the Blood Angels @candyswirls I think you’ll really like this one

(Part 1 here)

(Part 2 here)

(Part 4 Here)

Cw: slight transhumanism

Antagrion was uncertain about what to make of the newest arrival.

Smaller than his fathers fist and fluffier than the sand lions on Baal the little thing was a far cry from the weapon of destruction they had all come to anticipate. Truly the tiny thing was quite well behaved, if the serfs were to be believed, and did little more than eat and sleep. Antagrion looks up from his battle notes at the sound of excited voices and cooing. He scrunches his nose in distaste as he watches two of his younger brothers fawn over the baby in their Fathers arms. Four days since they first brought it on board, and still the excitement of its presence had yet to abate.

That was another thing he couldn’t understand. Why was everyone making such a fuss over something so utterly benign? It couldn’t hold a bolter, couldn’t hold a knife, throne it couldn’t even hold a conversation. It was a mystery in origin and future potential, but one he was not all too keen to delve into. Turning away from the saccharine sweet scene before him Antagrion returns to his duties.

Later that night, when all is quiet on the command deck, Antagrion alone remains to finish paperwork and calculations. There are footsteps behind him but at such a late hour he dismisses them for those of a serf.

“Ah Captain, I thought I’d find you here.”

Not a serf. He turns to find his Primarch standing before him a warm smile on his face. Antagrion immediately straightens with an eager salute.

“My lord!”

Something shifts in the red fabric of Sanguinius’ toga before a small head of dark curls pops up.

“Oh, and the tiny thing too.”

A less enthused, but no less polite acknowledgment. Sanguinius huffs a laugh and adjusts his grip on the baby.

“I’d noticed that of all your brothers, you alone have yet to truly greet your youngest sibling.”

Antagrion shifts imperceptibly not so much in response to the judgement of his actions but to the topic itself. Once again that same little mystery he’s been more than happy to avoid seeks him out with all the persistence of a hunter.

“I just don’t understand.”

A tilt of the Primarchs head a silent urging to continue. Antagrion pauses for a moment. He stares at the child wrapped in the makeshift sling of his Fathers toga. The child stares back with the same scrutinizing intensity.

“It doesn’t really…do much. It eats, it sleeps, and occasionally makes noise. So why is everyone so….enchanted by it?”

He’s a little standoffish in his response but it makes Sanguinius laugh all the same. His father looks at him with clear mirth dancing on his features.

“They all have their own reasons for their excitement. Some more so than others. It would be remiss of me to attempt to give a single motive for their actions. Excitement, adoration, disinterest. There’s no right or wrong way to feel about this, nor do I expect a specific reaction from anyone, but as one of my captains you are in greater contact with me than the majority of the legion. You will more than likely be among my inner circle as the baby grows and matures. So if nothing else than for my own ease of mind,”

Sanguinius carefully scoops up the baby and holds him out towards Antagrion, a gentle encouraging smile on his face.

“I’d like you to say hello to your baby brother.”

A moment of hesitation before Antagrion gently takes the baby from his fathers grasp. Indulging his curiosity he holds the baby at arms length to finally get a good look. Hair black like ink and as curly as his Fathers, eyes a deep coppery brown, and two wings fuzzy with raven-black down feathers. He mentally acquiesces that the baby is aesthetically pleasing to look at, but still the fawning and cooing of his other brothers escapes him. Antagrion brings the baby to his chest in a more comfortable hold and in an instant the baby leans closer for a good look.

Scratch that the baby leans closer for a good sniff? Antagrion notes with curious amusement how the baby actually sniffs him and, apparently satisfied with his scent, relaxes against his chest. In equal parts curiosity and confusion he leans down for his own gentle sniff and-

Oh.

Hm.

Well all the fuss certainly makes more sense now. It’s a vague sensation in the back of his mind that catalogues the scent and immediately recognizes it as, well, not quite his but certainly something along those lines. Antagrion looks up at his Father with a suspicious squint.

“You knew this would happen, didn’t you.”

Sanguinius’ smile is still warm and friendly but the smug air behind it does not fool him.

“I will neither confirm nor deny my knowledge.”

A disbelieving hum. For a moment Antagrion is happy to simply stand there and cuddle with the baby, but one mystery continues to nag at him.

“Father?”

“Yes?”

“Whats the baby’s name? I never did learn it.”

“Ah yes, his name is….uh…”

“……..Father?”

A nervous cough from Sanguinius and Antagrion’s stare flattens in disbelief.

“You forgot to name him didn’t you.”

“In my defense it has been a very busy few days.”

“I gathered.”

[clawsdevour]

pretty insecure

wc: 1.7k content warning: post-timeskip, established relationship, insecure reader x tsukki, reader is flat chested, smut, not proofread

Ⳋ᧙   ۟   ⊹

Always wanting the light to be off whenever you had intimate time with your loving boyfriend who’s never refused. Tsukishima never questioned why you wanted the lights to be dimmed whenever you guys fucked but it still surfaced on his mind from time to time. He’d always wonder how you’d look whenever your slightly parted, swollen lips moan out sweet whimpers in his ears.

The world’s spinning whenever your lips graze against his for a long and passionate kiss that may or may not lead to having intercourse from time to time. A string of saliva the only thing connecting you two as you feel his left hand moving from your waist to caress the subtle valley emerging from your chest.

The ambient light highlighted his every move that sparked intent with each gesture. His honey brown eyes that glowed in the darkness, face lit up from the lamp that stood tall on your nightstand. The warm shade settling right on the surface of your breasts that hovered and spilled out of your push up bra as you laid flat down on the bed.

“Can we turn off the light?” putting a hand on his muscular shoulder as he leaned back. 

“Why do you wanna do that when I’m tryna see all of you..?” placing a soft peck on your hand, his stern half lidded eyes glancing at you with desire.

“I’m just.. a bit embarrassed,” breaking out of his intense eye contact as your cheeks fluttered a bright red hue.

You weren’t ashamed of being naked in front of him. It’s just that.. you don’t wanna make him feel like he’s been fooled when you take off your push up bra to show that you don’t have much chest as he expected whenever you have your brassiere on. Not to mention, being flat chested made you feel insecure ever since you’ve hit puberty, expecting to have bigger busts like the girls your age.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I love you for you, not your body. You already know that..”

Warm words dissolving in your ear. The words you’ve been searching to hear for so long. The words you’ve long to hear come out of someone you like, rather, love. Tsukishima wasn’t just anybody, or just your boyfriend. He’s your soulmate for god’s sake.

“...even if I don’t have the biggest cups with a push up bra on?” looking down to peer at your tits that gathered and sat at the top of your chest to look fuller.

“Yes? Is that why you’ve been wanting the lights off?” lowering himself to graze the surface of your bare stomach, toned with the accent lighting, sending you shivers down your spine. 

His heated little kisses tickle as Tsukishima makes his way up to your bust, making sure you know that he wants you to receive all of his love no matter what part of you his lips land on. Mumbling out a low ‘mhm..’ observing his blonde head of hair slowly inch up towards your field of vision, your fingers diligently stroking through his messy locks. 

When his slender long fingers meet your bra, immediately sliding under whilst meeting all the stored up warmth your body produced that greeted his cold fingertips. 

Pushing your bra up to reveal your small chest and perky rosy nipples, you can’t look. His honey golden eyes darted straight at your insecurities, accented by the ambient light that made you flare a bursting red. 

“You’re too gorgeous, y’know that?” mumbling under breath before you felt a wet and heated sensation arouse your little nub.

His fiery hot tongue circles around your erected nipple while you rubbed your knees together under him. Feeding into your satisfaction when Tsukishima’s large hand fondles with your other breast, making sure it gets the same amount of attention as the other.

The saliva Tsukishima left on your nipple glistens in the light while he switches to the other, showing you that he loves you even if you don’t love yourself inside or out. Delighted with glee, you just want to take all of him that instant as your patience runs low.

“Kei..” you whisper to him with content. His heavy eyelids making contact with yours from beneath.

“Hmm?” grumbling with a nipple still in his mouth, feeling the vibrations on your breast.

“Let’s fuck already” trying to surpress the dopey goofy grin about to be plastered across your face. A bit stoked, his mouth drops the erected nub out and instantly you feel him lay the girth of hardness on your thigh, feeling how hard you make him. 

Helping you slide off your underwear while you removed your push up bra that was quite literally pushed towards your collarbone, you can’t help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world knowing that your boyfriend genuinely doesn’t care that you have this aching insecurity that has been eating at you ever since you were younger.

“Woah.. already this excited? What was it this time, love?” stroking his thumb down your glistening slit before slightly rubbing slow circles on your wet clit.

“Mm, I dunno…” you wholeheartedly said while biting down on your bottom lip, ready to bury him into your warm embrace that yearned for him to fill you up.

Before he could sink his cock into you though, he always made sure you’re prepped enough to take him. What he wielded wasn’t a ruler, but a sword. He’s putting his fingers to work. Twisting and turning, scissoring and curling inside your tight and plush walls that dripped with juices.

Making your legs tremble with pleasure as you dug your nails into his shoulders, leaving your bright red imprints on his pale skin. Your raggedy breathing increases while you tilted your head back into the fluffy pillow, your body moving at a rapid pace to stabilize your breath as you basked in the ambient lighting in front of him. 

Right when you were about to lose it, your made him come to a halt before you were able to cream all over his digits. Yes, you were a bit disappointed you haven’t came but at this point, you were a sopping and dripping mess. Almost too fragile for him to fuck with.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” landing a kiss on the back of your knee that he placed on his shoulder.

“Yeah.. I don’t care if it hurts if it’s you,” spreading your wet folds for him to enter with your fingers for him to examine.

Gulping at the glorious sight held upon him, stroking his cock a few times before using the slick to slide in smoothly upon entrance. The pain started to kick in instantly the moment his tip entered, your tight walls clamping down on him as it stretched to fit Tsukishima’s size. It was as if he was about to split you into two.

Squirming under him while you held onto his biceps for support, cock still slowly inching into you like a fork scraping a chalkboard except it was your gummy walls. Your cunt producing more fluids to accommodate a smoother and painless entrance before he’s fully situated inside you.

“Keep going Kei..” averting your trusting eyes at him that glossed with forming tears.

“Tell me when to stop” kissing your sticky forehead due to sweat, like he could even care.

Finally nesting his length inside you, your insides feel like they’re just about to burst as it expands to take a grasp of his size. Tsukishima’s plump lips make their way back down to fondle onto your smaller chest, playing with your nipples with ease. Just lightly teasing them, flicking them with his fingertips while you fidgeted under his towering stature.

Grinding your hips into his bit by bit, building up the delicious friction that started to have waves of euphoria wash over you. Your knees sitting on his broad shoulders as his strong hands pinned your wrists down, Tsukishima makes sure your insecurities get all the love they could ever get aslong as you’re with him.

“Want me to start moving?” his hot breath tickles on your damp skin, just slightly shimmering in the semi-dark light due to the sheen layer of sweat that built up from your foreplay.

Nodding into the pillow, Tsukishima starts to remove and insert himself back in at a steady and leisurely rate to not discomfort you. Your folds clinging onto him whenever he went out before burying himself back into you, making you feel him reach the depths of your cunt every time he nestled inside, his cock glossy with your dripping essence. 

“Ugh.. Kei–” trying to shield yourself from his intoxicating vision when he started to pick up the pace that made you start gasping for air.

His cock hit places his fingers couldn’t reach and you always thought that the areas his fingers stimulated were already good enough. Your moans and whimpers spilling out of your parted lips, filling the room with your echoing noises that mixed with the squelching from your cunt.

Your aching pussy starting to throb from all the tension and pleasure his cock offered you, the veins on his length stimulating your walls even further whenever they pulsated inside. Tsukishima’s low grunts of satisfaction suppressed through a series of kisses he leaves on your knees and inner thighs, focusing on you and only you.

Pumping you full of his girth until you released your hot fluids all over his cock, absolutely exhausted and tired out of your mind as you continued to receive his hard thrusts until he came. Seeing white until he pulled out, leaving you to quiver feeling so empty without his filling presence in you.

Squirting out white ropes of cum, his milky fluids catching onto your swollen tits you were once insecure of. Your chest heaves for air, your sleep eyelids started to pick a fight with your consciousness.

“Kei..” lifting your limbless arms for him as he dives into your sticky, heat emitting embrace. Placing a kiss on your cheek as your finger draws across his face.

“Too pretty to be insecure..” his hoarse husky voice whispered, tucking a strand of hair that clung onto your skin behind your ear.

masterlist here