#of all the things to be left behind- for it to be the feeling of longing

[rafeysbunny]

‧₊˚ ⋅ i'll show you, rafe cameron

stepbro!rafe x fem!reader

masterlist

synopsis. in which your stepbrother kindly offers to show you porn for the first time.

warnings. stepbro!rafe, innocent!reader (but she's not an airhead), virgin!reader, smut, fingering, rafe putting in just the tip, oral sex (fem receiving), rafe licks his own creampie.

word count. 4k.

author's note. idea by @matts1andonly. english isn't my first language so there might be spelling mistakes, don't hold it against me. enjoy!

it's past midnight when you finally slide out of your bedroom without making a sound. you have been waiting patiently for your mom and ward to go to bed so you can do this without risking getting caught. wheezie is already asleep too, sarah is out with john b somewhere, and rafe left the house earlier, not telling anyone where to, so you know he's going to arrive late, as always.

it's the perfect moment.

rafe's room is down the hallway, so you make your way there quietly not to wake anyone, your barefoot feet making soft footstep sounds when you walk. once there, you open the door as carefully as you possibly can, knowing it creaks every time it gets open. this time, thanks to god, it does not.

you manage to sneak into the dormitory unnoticed, then shut the door behind you. the place is dark, only a faint glimmer of moonlight coming in through his curtains, but you want to lay low, so you don't turn on the lights. by all means, the dim lighting is enough for you to spot what you're looking for.

rafe's mac, laying there on his desk.

what's the point behind all of this? you might be wondering. well, let me answer you real quick. turns out, this handsome, muscled college guy has invited you on a date. problem is, you have never been on a date. you haven't even hold hands with a guy romantically before, much less kissed or fucked one. you simply refuse to come off as a prude, which honestly you are, but that dream of a man doesn't need to know that.

and that's why you have decided that it is a good idea to break into your stepbrother's bedroom and borrow his laptop, since yours broke last week, to watch porn in it for the first time.

well, now that you hear it out loud, it probably sounded better in your head. anyways...

you stroll towards the desk with languid steps and sit down on rafe's chair, small hands reaching hesitantly to open the laptop. you turn it on and the screen light illuminates your pretty face right away. you swear your fingers are shaking a little bit as you open up the browser and type 'porn videos' on the search bar.

somehow, you feel like you are doing something wrong, and you can't seem to shake the guilt away. either way, you don't back out. you click the enter button and, after just a few seconds, a million search results pop up. honestly, you don't know where to start, so you click on the first one, which redirects you to a website called pornhub.

the home page is full of videos, the first thing to catch your attention being the obscene thumbnails of each one of them. your cheeks flush a deep shade of red. you read some of the titles as you bite your lip nervously, realising most of them contain the word 'stepsister' in them, and you wonder if that is the only content posted on this page.

how innocent of you not to know that the website is making recommendations based on your stepbro's most searched tag.

before things escalate further, you spot rafe's airpods max sitting there on the desk and decide to grab them, connecting them to the laptop and putting them on —this way you can make sure no one overhears anything. after that, you spend a few more minutes scrolling through the page, during which you discover that there's a ton of categories to choose from.

how are you supposed to know which one to pick?

you are so invested in your little research, headphones canceling the noise, that you don't hear neither rafe opening the front door nor him walking up the stairs and, surely, don't notice him standing behind you until he speaks. and it's too late by then.

"the fuck are you doing, sweetheart?" he blurts, complete and utterly shocked to see his naive stepsister fuckin' watching pornhub.

well shit, maybe you aren't as innocent as he thought you were.

you jolt instantly, jumping out of your seat as you feel all the colour draining from your cheeks. no way rafe just caught you in the act. this can't be real. despite how bad you want to run away, you are left with no other choice but to turn around and face him, wishing the earth would swallow you up.

"i– this is not what it looks like, i swear i can explain," you stutter nervously, taking of the airpods with trembling hands. from here on, the anxious rambling begins, "i wasn't doing anything... this guy– well, i... i uhm– i got a date, 'kay? with this guy from class and– listen, i know this is silly, but..."

"jesus christ, baby, slow down, 'kay?" he stops you, his heart nearly melting from how cute you look, so shy and flustered. he almost feels bad for interrupting whatever the hell you were doing here.

the colour has returned to your cheeks, and you are all flushed now, from head to toe. your face feels like it's on fire; you have never been this embarrassed before.

"could you please start over?" he asks, hoping to hear a coherent explanation to why you are in his room, in the middle of the night, and watching porn on his laptop.

you take a deep breath, fidgeting with the hem of your top. you are so deeply ashamed that you don't seem to remember that you are wearing nothing but a flimsy white singlet and a tiny pair of matching panties. rafe's very aware of that fact, though, hungry eyes trailing all over your beautiful body.

"i've got a date with a guy from class," you start explaining, white teeth nibling occasionally on your plump bottom lip, "but i've never dated anyone, ya' know? i've no experience, and i don't want him to think i'm pathetic if we..."

"fuck?" he finishes your sentence, a roguish grin spreading across his handsome face.

if possible, your blush deepens even more at the vulgarity while you mutter a quiet 'yeah' in response.

honestly, he is a bit jealous of that guy. not only you are willing to let him fuck you, but you are also trying to learn how to do it properly so he has a good time doing it. yeez, what a shame for him he is going to kill him as soon as he finds out who he is; there's no chance rafe's letting you near any other man but him.

"i thought, uhm, maybe watching that would help..." you add coyly, his silence making you more nervous.

it is cute how you try to avoid saying words like 'fuck' or 'porn', like it is a crime to pronounce them or something.

"you know what? let's watch it together," he proposes.

there's a mischievous glint in his eyes that doesn't go unnoticed. you swear your cheeks might just explode at any second, and you can't help the pathetic stutter that comes out when you talk. "uhm, i don't think that'd be appropriate," you refuse, shaking your head.

"why not? you want help, and i can help you here, sweetheart," he answers, his voice surprisingly soft and gentle —unlike rafe, "that's what big brothers are for, aren't they?"

he takes a few steps in his direction until he is standing right beside you. then, he grabs the laptop in his large hands as he flashes you a wicked smirk, his curtain bangs falling messily on his forehead. you gulp, having him so close makes you feel a certain way; you cannot deny that.

"you, uhm, being my stepbrother is exactly why not," you stammer as you tilt your head back to look at him, his height towering over you.

"bullshit," he retorts, huffing. "you trust me?"

your first mistake is, probably, trusting rafe cameron. "yeah, i do, but..."

"that's why 'm perfect for the job, baby," he interrupts you. his words are clearly intended to manipulate you, but you are way too innocent to notice it, "i'm probably the guy you feel most comfortable with, aren't i? i can give ya' all the advice you need."

to be fair, he isn't wrong about that. you don't have any male friends, and you are honestly too embarrassed to ask your girlfriends for help on this department, not wanting them to think less of you. plus, rafe is a guy; he knows better what guys like, right?

"wouldn't it be kinda... weird ?" you ask, clearly hesistant.

"weird?" he repeats. "no, 'course not."

only a few more sweet, reassuring words is all it takes for him to gently coax you into watching his favourite pornos with him. his cock starts to harden in his pants just at the thought of having you like that. when you finally accept, he swears he's on cloud nine.

god, he's been wanting you for months now; he can't believe this is happening.

"c'mere, baby," he eagerly instructs you, getting on his bed.

he sits with his back resting on the headboard and pats the spot between his legs to invite you to sit there. he places the laptop next to him, the pornhub website still open on it. you move slowly towards him, cheeks slightly flushed from the embarrassment as you settle on the mattress in between his parted thighs, your back pressed to his hard chest.

he wraps one strong arm securely around your waist, his hand coming to rest gently on your tummy. with his other hand, he reaches for the laptop sitting beside him, carefully bringing it closer so the two of you can see the screen properly.

your heart is beating so fast in your chest that he can probably hear it, too. the way he is touching you is not making it easier for you to stay calm, either, his fingers tenderly tracing patterns on your belly over the thin fabric of your shirt while he scrolls through the page.

he seems to sense your discomfort and chuckles low in his throat, his warm breath tickling your ear. "relax, sis," he whispers teasingly, his voice laced with amusement. "i'm not gonna make you watch anything that'll traumatize you."

"it's just– this is a bad idea," you babble, fidgeting nervously when he finally clicks on a video and a pretty young woman appears on screen.

the actress is beautiful; she has a gorgeous body and face. her lips are full and pink, and she has these big, expressive eyes that appear to gleam. and you don't realize it, but she looks exactly like you.

the scene starts playing; in it, the girl is watching some movie with a guy that, apparently, is her roommate —at least that's what the title says.

"shhh..." he hushes you softly, his voice barely audible over the sounds emanating from his laptop's speakers. "just watch. don't overthink it."

"okay," you answer between gritted teeth.

your pretty eyes are fixed on the laptop while you try not to cringe at how bad the script and acting are, which is nearly impossible, to be honest. despite that, you keep watching in silence as the video plays, growing more flustered as the clock ticks.

you didn't know mouths could be used for that... interesting.

as opposed to you, rafe's pretty chill behind you, like he's unbothered by this whole situation —he's actually hard as fuck inside his pants, the thing is you haven't noticed. you wonder how he can act so unfazed, since you keep pushing your thighs together to try and soothe the throbbing sensation building in between them while you take in the lewd actions occurring on screen.

you weren't expecting your body to have this reaction, and now you don't know what to do to make it stop.

rafe soon becomes aware of the way you keep letting out soft sighs and squirming in his arms, plush ass rubbing against his cock every time you do it. it's a miracle he is still holding back, though he doesn't know how much time he will be able to.

he's not even paying attention to the video anymore, his entire focus put on you. he finally ventures to lean in, his hot breath grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers, "you know, i could do that to you..." his hand slowly slides to your plush thigh and he gives it a gentle squeeze.

his movements are measured and controlled not to scare you, but your breath hitches in your chest at his actions either way, body tensing up in his grasp. your brain is telling you to push him away, but the insistent throb in your sex doesn't like that idea, not one bit.

"you– you could?" you utter quietly, not taking your eyes away from the laptop.

rafe notices the uncertainty in your voice, but the way you haven't pushed him away yet emboldens him to continue, his large hand gradually sliding north.

"yeah, baby," he murmurs huskily against your ear, fingertips brushing along your inner thigh. "i could put my fingers inside you, just like he's doing to her..."

his words make you blush heavily as a little gasp is released from your pouty lips. "would it feel good?" you ask naively.

your eyes are transfixed in the sight of the guy on the screen pushing his fingers inside the girl's pussy. god, she seems like she's enjoying it so much... and you desperately want to feel like that too. you can't even bring yourself to care that it's your stepbrother offering to show you.

rafe's fingers creep higher and higher until they're barely brushing against your cotton panties. "yeah," he growls huskily against your ear, "it'd feel real good, sweetheart. i promise..."

you shudder, a sweet little mewl escaping your throat involuntarily. you can't help but blush at your own reaction, slightly embarrassed by it. you tear your eyes away from the screen, head falling back against his chest as you look up at him.

"it's throbbing, rafe..." you whine, self-control slipping from your hands. "can you make it better?"

rafe's fingers finally make contact with your wet underwear, pressing against your clit through the fabric. he rubs gentle circles around your sensitive nub, his other hand curling around your supple thigh to spread your legs wider.

"oh, baby, you're soaked through your panties..." he pants out.

your body literally melts into his touch like butter, perfectly shaped brows knitting together in a frown of pleasure. the girl in the video moans, and you do too, both sounds echoing in the silence of his room.

taking your moan as an invitation, rafe carefully hooks his fingers in the gusset of your panties to push them aside, exposing your sopping cunt to the cool air of his bedroom. then, he traces your wet slit slowly, leisurely, as if savoring the velvety feel of your skin.

"such a pretty little pussy..." he praises, eyes hungrily taking in the pink expanse of flesh.

you squirm and let out a soft whimper, biting your lip right after to avoid keep making noises; the last thing you want is to wake up your parents or wheezie. rafe notices your struggle and swiftly reaches up to cover your mouth with his free hand, muffling your sweet moans.

he gathers some of the wetness dripping out of your cunt before trailing his fingers all the way up to your clit, rubbing it gently. your eyes roll back, hips bucking up against his hand instinctively. the way your swollen bud throbs beneath his fingertips is going to make you mad. he begins to touch your clit in fast, tight circles, his other hand still holding your mouth shut to keep you quiet.

he leans in to whisper against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine, "if you make a sound, i'll stop, got it?"

you nod obediently in response, making your best effort to comply; you don't want him to stop doing this, never. as a reward, rafe slides a thick finger down your slit and presses it against your clenched entry, steadily applying pressure until your tight muscles finally give in and allow his digit ingress.

"so fuckin' tight," he groans under his breath at the feeling of your narrow pussy engulfing his finger.

withdrawing his finger almost all the way out, he teases your entrance with the tip, making you tremble with anticipation before pushing it back in to the knuckle, his palm cupping your mound as he starts to thrust in a smooth, lazy rhythm. you swallow a whiny cry while your eyelids flutter shut, pretty face scrunched in a blissful expression.

rafe works his finger in and out of your slick pussy slowly, marveling at how your velvety walls flutter around the digit. he curls it inward, searching for that special spot that's guaranteed to drive you wild.

after a few experimental pokes, rafe's fingertip finally brushes over your g-spot, eliciting a muffled moan from under his palm. he smiles wickedly against your skin, and you shudder in his grasp, pleasure waves running through your body.

"that's it, sweetheart... feel good?" he croons softly, fingering you nice and deep.

you can't bring yourself to reply, the sensation of his large digit fucking your pussy, added to the constant rubbing of his palm against your puffy clit has your mind feeling all fuzzy. your body language is the only answer he needs, though.

rafe leans in to tenderly nip at your neck, his hot mouth latching onto your slender throat as he keeps pumping his finger steadily in and out of your dripping cunt. he knows you're close when he feels your inner muscles starting to clench erratically around his digit.

"rafe," you moan onto his palm as you feel this new, strange sensation building in your tummy, pussy tingling so nicely.

heaven help him. hearing you, his stepsister, moan his name like that makes rafe's hard dick throb almost painfully against his zipper.

and then it happens. the coil in your belly suddenly snaps and you have to bite onto your lip harshly to keep yourself from screaming as you cum for the very first time, on your stepbrother's hand. rafe continues to pump his finger in and out of your spasming cunt as you ride out your climax, wanting to prolong your pleasure.

when you finally come down from your high, you're all shaky and flustered in his arms, panting heavily to try and catch your breath. he has a satisfied smirk on his lips while he slowly withdraws his slick digit from your quivering hole to bring it up to his mouth and lick it clean, savoring your taste.

"did so well for me, baby," he coos as he uncovers your mouth, gently turning your head to the side to press a kiss to your swollen, red lips.

you return it sloppily, eyes fluttering shut in the process, and you sigh contently against his mouth. he can't help but rock his hips against your ass, rubbing his hard on against you.

"did i make you feel good?" he asks between little kisses, his breathing growing uneven. you nod in response. "yeah? then it's just fair you make me feel good too, sweetheart... wanna do that f'me?"

"yes," you whisper against his lips without even thinking, feeling him smirk into the kiss.

"such a good girl," he praises.

at some point, the porn video playing on his laptop ended, so he simply closes it up and tosses it away, the device landing somewhere on his king size bed. then, he turns you both around, until you are laying on the mattress and he is on top of you.

he is quick to undo his pants and yank them down, just enough to free his raging hard on, which bounces against his abs. let me tell you this, he's big, the tip pink and fat, already leaking precum.

suddenly, realization hits you. this is your stepbrother for god's sake, are you really gonna let him fuck you?

he notices how your body tenses up, one hand reaching to stroke your plush thigh reassuringly while the other wraps around his shaft, giving it a slow pump.

"hey, baby, relax..." he whispers gently, "I'll put just the tip in, yeah? there's nothing wrong with that."

you hesitate. his strong arms slide beneath your legs to tug you closer. then his cock brushes your pussy and you whimper. how are you supposed to say 'no' ?

it's just the tip.

"mhmm, 'kay" you end up agreeing with a little nod.

rafe flashes you a lopsided smirk, his hand gripping his cock again while the free one yanks your panties aside once more. keeping eye contact, he slowly glides the fat head of his dick up and down your drenched slit, coating it thoroughly in your arousal. you shudder as his tip eventually meets your puffy clit, the gentle rubbing sending shivers down your spine.

"rafe," you whimper.

rafe's eyelids droop, a low hum of pleasure escaping his throat as he continues to slowly drag the reddened head up and down your chubby pussy lips with squelching sounds. his breathing grows heavier the longer he teasingly rolls it against your slick folds, reveling in your breathy whimpers. he feels like he's about to burst already, pre-cum steadily leaking from the tip and onto your flesh.

he can't fucking take this anymore.

with a slow, gentle thrust, he sinks his cock into your warm, slippery pussy, just the head breaching your entrance before he pauses, savoring the initial penetration. his eyes lock onto yours, his pupils blown wide with lust.

"jesus, fuck." he grunts.

your cunt starts fluttering around him. he has barely slided the first two inches in, as he promised, but he's so thick that even that feels like a tight fit. you let out a moan, which mingles with a strained groan from rafe as your velvety walls clench tightly around his swollen cockhead.

"gonna– might just nut already, shit" rafe mutters through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to just drive forward and hilt himself deep. "so goddamn tight."

your hips buck unconsciously against his, making him slip in just a tad further —which nearly makes him lose all his self-control. somehow, he manages to keep his shit together, hips rocking slowly to thrust in and out of you while his veiny hand strokes the rest of his shaft.

you're totally enthralled by the sight, liquid heat pooling in your belly while you watch him use your body for his pleasure. he looks so good, you can't believe he's real. your chest fills with pride at the knowledge that you're making this greek god feel good.

this is the fastest rafe has ever cum, the movement of his hips becoming jerky and sloppy after a few minutes as he spills his sperm inside you. he's panting heavily, sweat beading on his brow while his fist squeezes the base of his cock tightly.

you're left wanting more when he slowly pulls out, pussy stretched out and leaking white spurts of cum. he gazes down at you with a smirk, lightly tapping the head of his dick against your swollen clit, which has you writhing beneath him.

"so fuckin' gorgeous stuffed full of my cum," he whispers, his cock smearing the sticky substance all over your slit. you mewl in response. "hmm, 'm sorry for making such a mess on your pretty pussy, sweetheart, lemme clean it up, yeah?"

you blush in response when he leans forward, throwing your creamy thighs over his broad shoulders, to put his mouth onto your sex. you almost cry at the heavenly feeling, his playful tongue delving between your folds to lap up his own release. he cleans you up thoroughly, only to mess you up again right after, his spit soaking your cunt as he makes you cum again.

after tonight, you are cancelling that date, that's for sure.

[hedgehog-moss]

I had a friend over this week and even though the weather wasn't ideal, we decided we were going to go for a long walk in the surrounding woods with all three llamas. Since Pampelune is the uncontested chief, you just need to halter her and her herd follows wherever she goes. Sometimes we emerged from the woods into a pasture and Pampérigouste started galloping like mad (followed by her daughter & her abandonment issues), but then Pampy would object with some firm hums and the other two returned, chastened.

We'd brought a head of cabbage and we gave her a few leaves every time she successfully used her matriarch authority to re-gather our little group around her, even though she'd do it for free, because it's so nice to be able to go on walks with only one haltered llama and watch the younger ones frolic and explore the world as we go. Pampy seemed happy to walk with us at a steadier pace and to trade freedom for cabbage.

We'd initially planned to stay on my side of the torrent, but after meandering downhill for a long time we unexpectedly found an old bridge I didn't know existed, and it looked very inviting, so we crossed. (Ominous chords.) Then we enthusiastically went up hoping we'd see my house from the opposite hill—and we did, here it is :)

And then we went back into the woods, and got lost. Of course. I really think my friend carries some sort of curse because I don't usually get lost in nature but the last time we went on a great hike we also found ourselves completely disoriented in a featureless snowy plain, trying to glimpse the sun behind clouds and debating whether finding the North would help us in any way.

This time we were quicker to admit we were lost, and I said we could either go uphill, and we'd find the road eventually and the nearest milestone would tell us where we are (or we'd reach a farm on the plateau), or go downhill, and we'd find the stream eventually and cross it and then we'd be in a part of the woods I'd recognise. Probably.

Drawback of going uphill: it's technically the wrong direction, so the way home will be that much longer (and night falls at 5pm)

Drawback of going downhill: we'll have to cross the water at some point. Without a bridge. It would take a miracle to find that bridge again, supposing it was a real bridge and not a fae illusion to lead us astray.

After debating for a bit we decided to go downhill, because we were hopeful that we'd find a shallow spot to cross the stream, and also we feared that at nightfall the llamas might just lie down and decide to spend the night right here, in the woods. It's hard to make a llama get up again once she's decided that enough things happened for today.

The question of whether the llamas would accept to cross a mountain stream with us was left undebated—though we did regret having spent our cabbage too lavishly and too soon.

But we followed a rivulet downhill and Pampe crossed it repeatedly, with merry and graceful mountain goat jumps, which made us feel comforted in our decision.

Then we got to a point where the water became visible, and very noisy, and Pampelune started to feel suspicious. She made worried hums and walked more reluctantly and (having squandered our cabbage) we had to cajole her into compliance.

I love that my friend captured the moment when I crouched down and started straight-up lying to my llama.

Poldine was the last one to realise something was afoot, because she is young and trusting.

Once she did, she also became a bit reluctant (she wanted to go uphill again), and more than once my friend had to open her cloak-like coat in order to look like a bat and persuade Poldine that nothing good was happening in that direction.

We found a spot where the water was pretty shallow and decided to cross. The air temperature was maybe 1°c and the water felt like it was minus twelve so my friend wasn't exactly happy about the series of decisions that had led us to this point. I pointed out that last time in that snowy plain there was this piercing relentless evil wind howling in our ears and making unsettling voice-like sounds when it blew through holes in fences (to help her relativise) and she was like, when did this day go from singing walking songs and watching Pampe gambol in pastures to "at least this time we aren't being driven mad by ghostly wind."

I told her that things that go wrong become the most vivid and fun memories in the long term and we debated this postulate for a bit and I felt like I had successfully distracted her from our plight, until she put her foot in the water and said she wished she were in the metro in Paris right now. In Châtelet even. I said "but in two days you'll be in the Paris metro wishing you were here trying to cross a cold mountain stream with three appalled llamas!" and she said yes. Still, the situation is dire when a Parisian says she would rather be in Châtelet.

Pampe actually followed us quite quickly! I'm pointing this out because I'm always talking about how contrary Pampérigouste is, but she was so great about crossing the stream, even humming to her daughter as if to encourage her. I suppose she was telling Poldine that when they make their final escape and become wild llamas they'll probably have to cross mountain streams now and then.

Poldine panicked a bit once everyone was on the other side of the water except her, and although I'd already wrung out my socks I was psychologically preparing myself to cross the ice-cold water again and go get her—but after walking up and down the other bank desperately looking for an invisible bridge, she resentfully crossed.

Then we went uphill again and eventually found our way to my neighbour's pasture! I immediately recognised the old tree in the middle and I was very happy to see it. My friend was holding Pampy and I had climbed ahead to act as a scout, and I cried out to share my discovery feeling like Vasco de Gama. It was snowing just a tiny bit, and getting darker, and I think everyone (including Pirlouit, languishing alone in his pasture) had started to privately wonder if we were going to spend the night in the woods.

One interesting activity we did when we went home was testing the various objects that live on or near my fireplace to see which ones are heavy and stable enough to hang very wet socks. We tried the wistful wooden shepherd, the porcelain fox, the music box shaped like a pile of books, the vase, and found that the only reliable spots in my living-room to dry your socks are under Sherlock Holmes and under Marie-Antoinette so we agreed on a fair sock-drying rotation. The living-room smelled of wet wool (or wet llama) all evening, but we had a glass of champagne to celebrate the fact that we weren't currently trying to fight hypothermia by curling up between two llamas in some frosty meadow, and we felt pleased with our adventure, all things considered.

We realised a bit late that we had been in such a hurry to go home and warm up we'd neglected to reward our hiking companions, so we very bravely put on new socks and went out in the night to look for the llamas with our phone lights and distribute some muesli. Pirlouit was included in the distribution because he definitely would have crossed the stream with us had he been invited (and told his hay was on the other side.) Also we got a kiss from Poldine so I think she replayed the day's events in her head and came to the conclusion that her mother was, somehow, as always, to blame for all this.

[starkeysprincess]

kissing u for giving me this idea cause I love frat daddy as stepbro!rafe! what if reader is 18 but in her last year of high school (I know even with age of majority that’s still kinda icky but it’s the only way this scenario would work🫣) so when rafe’s away for his first year at college before the events of s1, she knows it’s wrong but she’s always worried and jealous of what he could be doing there or what other girls he could be seeing, especially when she sees his and his frat brothers’ instagram pictures. he doesn’t always get back to her texts or calls, and even though she has needs too, she feels guilty for hooking up with any of her friends or trying to date to distract herself. so when he comes home for the holidays, she’s all mad at him and pushes him away and they get all angsty and he apologizes because you were always willing to wait for him and his approval and with him being as nasty as he is he has to remind you that you come first because “you’re my sister”🫠✨

— stepbro!rafe is away for his first year at college

warnings: stepcest, reader is 18 + rafe is 19, indent is a flashback, jealous!reader, mention of hooking up w jj, choking, hair pulling, spanking, mirror sex, degrading, praise, gagging, piv, unprotected sex, creampie, 18+ mdni !

a/n: i hope it's ok that i tweaked a few things such as rafe apologizing & reader graduated high school but doesn’t go to college cause she isn't sure what she wants to do!

“gonna miss you,” you frown into your stepbrother’s chest, hugging him tightly. he rested his chin on the top of your head, “i’ll miss you too, but hey, i’ll be home for the holidays, and i’m only a phone call away. you could call me or text me anytime, i’ll make sure to get back to you when i can, alright?”.

when rafe left for college, he responded to you when he could, just like he said he would. talking to him nearly every day almost made it feel like he wasn’t hours away from home. however, a month passed, and you started to hear less from him until your calls and texts were unanswered. at first, you assumed you weren’t hearing from him because of how busy he may have been with classes, and it wasn’t until you came across instagram posts from him and his fraternity brothers that he was too busy partying to get back to you.

it was his first year at college, and you knew you shouldn’t be upset; you had no right to be. especially when it was the only time he had freedom away from home, specifically from ward. it didn't stop you from missing rafe; you couldn’t help but think about what else he could be doing, and no matter how much you tried, knowing it was wrong, your mind started to wander over who he could be with.

when two more months had passed and still no communication from rafe, you sought out a distraction through jj maybank, who was unknowingly helping you take your mind off your stepbrother. the more time you had spent with jj, the less you thought about rafe and the promise of not running to anyone that wasn't him.

the promise you made was pushed into the back of your mind until one night, as you were about to sneak out of the house to see the blonde pogue, you received an incoming call from rafe. you could feel the guilt consuming you the longer you stared at his name, itching to answer. but your bitterness got the best of you, your finger tapping 'decline' before quietly leaving your house, not knowing rafe was calling to tell you he'd be home for the holiday.

a week later and yet another late night with jj, you tip-toed up the stairs, ensuring not to wake anyone up. just as you were about to reach your bedroom, you froze in your spot, looking like a deer in headlights, when the door to the room across from yours swung open. "sneaking back in?", his hand encircled your wrist, pulling you into his room and shutting the door behind you. “rafe, what are you doing here?” your brows furrow, more than confused as to why he was home.

“missed you, princess," his hands slid up your waist, walking you back until your lower back pressed against his dresser, "if you had answered when i called, you would’ve known i was coming home for the holidays.”.

your palms pressed at his firm chest, pushing him away when he started peppering kisses along your jaw. "what? what's wrong?" rafe asks, "don’t tell me you’re upset cause i made you promise not to go to anyone else while i was away on campus.”.

“i can't be upset over that when i’ve been seeing jj,” the words rolled off your tongue with ease, “i don't know why it matters anyway when you've been ignoring me for the past few months, probably too busy sleeping around with sorority girls every weekend”.

rafe’s nostrils flared the second jj's name slipped from your mouth, “what did you just say?” he gritted his teeth, removing his hand from your waist to grab your throat. “what?” you bat your eyes innocently, “don't act all innocent, you've been fucking around with maybank, huh?”.

"what happened to being my good girl? guess your poor, needy little pussy couldn't handle being empty for a few months, hm?" rafe snickered, "and now you wanna push me away all 'cause i've been too busy?".

your mouth gaped open to speak, only for him to cut you off, "is that why you're pushing me away, acting like you didn't miss me and your panties aren't soaking wet right now? ".

rafe spun you around to face the mirror of his dresser, bending you over. his large, warm hands slip under your skirt, pushing the article of clothing around your waist. his fingers hooked into the elastic of your panties, pulling them down to pool around your ankles. "step out of them," he ordered, delivering a sharp smack to the fat of your ass; when you didn't oblige, "don't make me tell you twice.".

rafe bent down, grabbing your panties before standing back up. his hand reached around, cupping your jaw, your lips parting when his fingers dug into your skin as he squeezed your cheeks. rafe shoved the silk material into your mouth and his lips brush against the shell of your ear, "you want an apology? fine, here's your apology.".

his free hand dipped between your legs, chuckling as he ran his fingers through your slick folds. “i’m sorry, princess…” he cooed, extending his thumb to rub circles to your clit, pulling a soft moan from you.

a desperate whine bubbled in your throat at the loss of friction on your puffy clit, your heart racing in anticipation at the sound of fabric rustling behind you. rafe nudged your thighs further apart with his knee, slotting himself between your legs. his palm rested on the small of your back as you squirmed under him, feeling the thick head of his cock sliding up and down your folds.

he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back to make you look at him in the reflection, watching your eyes roll back as his thick cock stretches you deliciously, “sorry that my poor girl was so fuckin’ needy to the point she had to run to a pogue of all people.”.

“shit…missed being buried deep in this sweet cunt,” rafe groaned, "guess i gotta ruin this tight little hole; make sure you don't go runnin' back to jj, huh?" he taunted, slowly pulling back, leaving just the tip of his cock inside you.

"don't worry, by the time i'm done with you, all that pretty little head and pussy is gonna think about is how much she missed and ached for my dick," rafe sucked his teeth, your body jolting forward, biting down on the pair of panties stuffed in your mouth as he slammed himself back into your willing cunt.

your hands grip the top of his dresser, eyes barely staying open. a loud, muffled yelp forces its way through the flimsy silk fabric stuffed in your mouth when rafe harshly tugged at the roots of your hair, "did i say you could close your eyes? keep 'em open, want you to watch me fuck you like the needy little cockwhore you are.".

rafe removed his hand from your hair, snaking it around your throat to hold your head upright. he buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting and sucking hard enough to leave bruises on your flesh. he leaned forward, putting all his weight onto you and pressing his chest to your back, "this s'all you wanted, yeah? just wanted to be stuffed full of my cock again?".

drool soaked through the silk as his cock pounded into you relentlessly. you grabbed onto his arm, struggling to keep your eyes open, and your nails bite into his skin as the tip of his cock repeatedly hits your cervix. rafe’s eyes flicker to look at the two of you in the mirror, “look at how pretty you look takin’ my dick,” he praises.

“came way too many fuckin’ times to the thought of you…been craving feeling your pussy around my cock again since the day i left,” rafe rasped. “especially feeling you cum all over my cock,” he groaned as he felt your walls flutter around him.

“c’mon, princess, cream all over my cock and make a mess like you used to,” he nipped your ear, holding you steady as your legs trembled. your pussy convulses around him, his hand clamping around your mouth to further muffle your cry of pleasure as you cum all over his thick cock.

your orgasm triggers rafe’s, his hips slowly pumping into yours as they become sloppy. he gives you one more harsh thrust, his hips stilling, pushing his cock deep inside you, and letting out a moan as thick ropes of cum spill into you, painting your walls white.

rafe removes your panties from your mouth, your chest heaving, small pants filling the room. your breath hitches in your throat when his hips slowly rolled into yours, “how’s that for an apology? or you still need some convincing?”.

taglist: @oceandriveab @babygorewhore @cameronsprincess @starkeysbabygirl @bloodibambiidoll @fallbhind @sematarygirls @nemesyaaa @ilovefiction4lmen @zyafics @sturnioloshacker @heartsforvin @cxrrodedcoffin @rafeyscurtainbangs @rafesthroatbaby @jjslaybank @kisses4angels @littlelamy @rafesangelita @starkeygirlposts @drewsarms @hallecarey1 @fallrafwe @sturnskiss @blckbrrybasket @wearemadeofstardust0 @honeybunniesoobin @starkeysbebe @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @starkeysheart @rafeinterlude @starkeyisthelastname @flvredcas @emilysuperswag @proxy-princess @hyperfixationgirl @ijustwanttoreadlols @slumnit @cl4uus @coco-cinnamon @stoned-writer

[alasse-earfalas]

I'm reblogging this again because I want to say thank you. Thank you for reminding me why I really love writing.

I've been stuck in a funk for, probably years now, where the primary driving force behind me writing anything was the audience. I loved the stories I was working on, but I was getting burnt out because I felt this weight of obligation to work on them "for my readers". I was left wondering where the joy of writing had fled to.

Enter the OP. This was a huge wake-up call that writing for readers is not fun at all (at least, not for me). It left me wondering why I cared so much about engagement when this was the attitude readers had about it. Why did I even love writing in the first place? Why was writing and telling stories so important to me?

And those last two questions set my muse free.

I looked back at my wips, really paid attention to them, and saw that there are stories that I want to tell. I remembered why I fell in love with these ideas, because I wanted to explore them, because I wanted--and still want--to see what happened next. I'm writing these stories because I love these stories. I think they're cool, I think they're neat, and I want to engage with them and see how they unfold and develop.

The joy of creating. I'd forgotten what it felt like. To just make something because it's fun. Because it tickles my curiosity. Because it makes me feel. Because I love it.

Shouldn't that be our driving force? Shouldn't creative endeavors be, you know, fun? If we spend twelve hours baking a cake, and nobody eats it, are we going to let that ruin the fun we had making the cake? And if it wasn't fun to make, then why are we bothering to make it at all?

We do this in our free time. We do this without being paid. If we do this expecting something in return, we're going to be disappointed. But the joy of creation can reward us all on its own, no likes or kudos or comments required.

Idk, the OP just combined with some other things I was hearing about goals and paying attention to what's important to us, and that gave me a really massive paradigm shift on this whole topic. Why is writing important to us? Why is creating important to us? This goes for readers too: why are these creative pieces important to you? Why are you spending your free time on them? If they brought you joy, why not share that joy with the author/artist/creator?

When our drive changes to joy rather than being bound to audience engagement, it allows us to create more freely. The worth of our project is no longer dependent on the whims of other people. We create because we find joy in it; and if others find joy in it too, all the better!

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[softmiso]

pearly dewdrops drop | spencer reid x reader

summary: spencer comes home from a case, finding comfort in reader.

tags: smut (18+/nsfw), fem!reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship, unprotected piv, nipple play, creampie, choking, crying

word count: ~700

a/n: regular text size and capitalization under the cut.

cross-posted on ao3

Spencer was usually good at compartmentalizing his work and personal lives. Usually.

It was some ungodly hour in the early morning when you heard the front door open. You made your way from your spot on the couch to go greet your boyfriend. Once in the entryway, you took in his appearance: hair disheveled, sleeves rolled up, and tie slightly askew.

It was his aura, however, that gave you pause. That quintessentially Spencer feeling was absent, and what was left felt like a void of sorts.

You approached him carefully. “Hi, baby.”

He gave a weak smile, pulling you into a hug. He held you tight, almost suffocatingly so. The two of you stayed anchored in place until he pulled back. Before you could get another word in, he captured your lips in a hungry kiss.

Immediately, his tongue made its way past your lips. A surprised sound escaped from your throat at his forwardness. Spencer typically took things slow—and rarely took the lead. Today, you knew that wouldn’t be the case.

You found yourselves in your shared bedroom, clothing having been shed somewhere along the way, leaving you both in your underwear.

You lay under him as he began to attack your neck with his affection. He left bruise after bruise, barely coming up for air. His lips then trailed down to your chest. He paused for a moment to remove your bra with deft fingers, only to plunge back in.

“Ah, Spence!” you gasped, as he took your nipple into his mouth.

He sucked and nibbled on the bud, fingers tweaking at the other, while you writhed underneath him. Despite the short timespan within which you had made your way from the entrance to your room, you could feel yourself getting worked up under his touch. And, despite his detached disposition, he was still able to read you faster than he could read any book. Releasing your breast from his mouth, he made quick work of removing his and your own underwear.

“Need you,” he mumbled. There was something to his voice, gruff and greedy, that told you his needs transcended words.

“Then take me.”

With that, he ran a finger through your folds, and swiftyly pressed it into your entrance. Even in his desperation, he made sure you were ready for him, pumping the digit in and out until he felt you could take him.

He held out his hand. “Spit.”

You complied, saliva dripping into his palm. He tugged at his cock a few times, before finally lining himself up with you. He pushed in carefully before bottoming out. You began to moan at the feeling of him filling you, but the sound caught in your throat as he set a brutal pace almost immediately.

He hammered into you, and the grip of his hand hands on your hips was sure to leave a bruise.

You could feel yourself getting close alarmingly fast. He wasn’t far behind, pace faltering every so often. He started blabbering, saying more than either of you had since he got home. Murmurs of feels so good, taking me so well, and all mine.

He could feel you fluttering around him, a sign of your impending climax, and his hand made its way around your throat. He pressed against the sides of your neck with just the right amount of pressure to make you see stars. And, before you knew it, you were cumming harder than you ever had before.

In your haze, you felt him release his hold, head falling to your shoulder as he pumped you with rope after rope of his cum.

For a moment, you both lay there, still as statues.

That’s when you felt it. A wetness gathering on your collarbone.

“Spence…?” you cautioned.

You felt more tears falling, accompanied by barely-there whimpers escaping from his throat. You held him tight, hands rubbing gently up and down his back.

After a bit, he pulled back, and you wiped away a few stray tears from his face.

“You wanna talk about it?”

He shook his head. “I just need you to hold me some more.”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Part 2 to A New Form of Pleasure

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: There is something that happened between you and your superior, something that unlocked a new side to both of you that neither of you knew about, but Simon may not be as keen to accept it as you are. However, after a bit of silence on his part, a late night visit might just fix everything.

Word Count: 6.4 k

Warnings:

Quiet breathing is the only noise left in the room as both of your bare, glistening bodies lay exhausted in bed, wrapped in a euphoric haze as Simon’s hand draws lazy circles up and down your arm. He continues the pattern for several minutes until that high finally starts to subside and clarity comes rolling back in.

Your eyes scan the small room to find the solitary clock along the wall and seeing how late it is you make the decision that it’s time to head back to your own room. The night is waning faster than you thought and now that the problem has been fixed, you both should really get some sleep.

Without a word you crawl your way out from his side and begin the search for your clothes; you won’t make it far across base naked. Simon props himself up against the wall behind the head of his bed, one arm behind him like a headrest as those dark eyes follow you through the room collecting your clothes to get dressed. Strange thoughts are already swirling around in his mind now that it’s clear of his desire, but he keeps those thoughts locked tight behind his closed lips and just enjoys the sight of your body until those silky curves are once again hidden from his sight. 

Your shirt is put on last and with that he too makes it out of bed and tosses on his sweats to walk with you the short distance to the door. “Till next time, yeah?” you say with a light chuckle, delaying the inevitable for a few seconds more so that the heat in your cheeks can die down.

Pulling you back against his warm chest with a strong arm wrapped around your waist, he places another grateful kiss to your lips and the moment you break apart he places his forehead against yours. “Thank you,” he whispers in the space between your raw mouths.

“Anytime,” you say with eyes still closed. “Just say the word and I’m here to do this again.” 

He moves back and you shoot him a bright smile as you reach for the door handle before you can talk yourself out of it and just like that you make your way out into the night. His eyes stay on you until he can’t make out your form in the darkness anymore and only then does he head back inside with a question pressing to the forefront of his thoughts.

What the hell has he gotten himself into now?

Days pass in normal fashion, but Simon doesn’t speak a peep about that night; there’s no requests for more encounters, no mentions of how good it was, nothing. You find it odd after all the intensity you had both shared, after the way he had told you how much he really wanted you to make him beg, that all of a sudden it would just be radio silence from him. Perhaps it would just remain a secret that you would share or maybe… maybe he thinks it was a mistake.

Whatever the case you keep it to yourself and things around the base return to the usual standard of monotony that day to day life brings whenever there are no missions scheduled. The only thing that keeps you from over thinking too much is the fact that Simon addresses you as he always has, but you can feel some space between you that hadn’t been there before and it puts a sour taste in your mouth that you can’t seem to shake.

More days pass in this confusing limbo, more nights spent alone in your bed without that thrill of making your superior cum again and now you’re frustrated. It wasn’t just Simon that got opened to something new, you did too and you liked it. Now it’s just over and tonight you’ve just about had it.

“I guess I better just get used to it,” you mutter to yourself as you roll over to turn out the lamp to at least try and get some rest.

You aren’t certain how long you’ve been asleep, but something suddenly breaks you out of your slumber. In your sleepy haze you aren’t entirely sure it’s actually anything until it happens again. Tap, tap, tap. Someone is knocking at your door and it’s getting louder and more frantic. It’s late, much later than having random company would allow and curiosity has you in its grip as you bound out of bed.

“One second,” you call out as you quickly flick on the lamp and blink a few times to adjust to the light.  

Another round of knocks ring out and you grab a jacket you have lying about close by to cover your tank top and panties well enough to greet whoever it is on the other side as it’s clear you won’t be able to get fully dressed; must be urgent the way the person doesn’t even seem to react to your message. Quickly you grab for the handle and turn the knob, ready to find out what’s so pressing that you would be disturbed this late. 

You open the door barely a crack and there, standing close to the frame, is the hulking form of the lieutenant. His random presence catches you off guard; he is the last person you’d expect to see right now with no previous warning. What the hell is he doing here? Silly question, but you don’t want to assume even though you are quick to pick up on a few signs. 

His attention falls to you as he finishes surveying the area around him and those eyes immediately find yours looking up into his balaclava-masked face. You notice something strange in his gaze… like he’s nervous. The sweats he’s currently wearing look as if they’ve been thrown on in a hurry and he isn’t even wearing a shirt, it’s just his dog tags that are over his bare chest. It’s like he’s bolted all the way over here the way he breathes in laborious, heavy draws. 

“Bit late don’t you think?” you say, trying to ascertain from his demeanor what the agenda for this visit is. “Can I help you lieutenant?”

Simon clears his throat. “We need ta talk,” he says, ignoring the snide way you utter his title as he rushes to finish speaking as if he doesn’t have the time. “Are ya gonna fuckin’ let me in?”

“I don’t know if I should…” you counter, your sleepy state making it hard to hide how annoyed you are at his sudden appearance.

He knows he deserves it, but he is desperate to get in. “Please,” he pushes; it’s not a word he uses often.

You detect that hint of desperation in his tone and unable to stop yourself you silently fling open the door enough that he can pass by you to get in. Without another word shared between you both he quickly steps inside as you poke your head out. The hallway is quiet, everyone else still asleep for the night. No personnel can be seen moving about which leads you to believe this isn’t a business call… at least that’s what you hope. 

You close the door and set the lock out of habit, but as you go to turn around your pithy words about how he better have a good reason to wake you up in the dead of night die on your tongue as you are suddenly forced back first onto the surface of the door and pinned with by two large, rough hands on your hips as bulky muscles press against your stomach. The action is so fast it leaves your mind reeling and grasping for understanding.

“Again,” he growls in a huff, his face inches from yours. “Need it again.”

Simon’s breath is warm as it wafts over your features and you realize his balaclava is already discarded haphazardly on your floor; there is no barrier that now exists between you. The parts of his skin that make contact with your body through your clothing are feverish to the touch; it’s like he’s on fire. 

His hands on your hips grip into the muscle harder as he speaks. “Need ya ta make me come again,” he groans, his lips getting closer as he tries to hold back long enough to have this conversation. “Like ya did last time. Can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout it.”

“Can’t get off alone again, so you’ve come crawling back to me? Is that it?” you ask, followed by an irked chuckle as you try to steady your breathing, hoping he can’t tell how flustered that little move just made you. He doesn’t get that luxury, at least not yet.

Simon shakes his head slowly. “I’s not that,” he replies, quieting his voice. 

“Then what?” You stare back, waiting for his reply.

Simon licks at his bottom lip. “I’s not just ‘bout comin’... I want you, the way ya fuckin’ do it and I’ll do anythin’ ya tell me to jus’ ta have it like that again.”

His needy words stir something inside you, making you feel that boldness you did that night this happened the first time. How could you say no to a request like that? But you can’t just let all that silence that built between you both in the days since that night pass without saying something.

“Care to tell me why you’ve been ignoring the subject then? I thought we had something going last time and ever since you’ve acted like nothing happened. You made me think we were actually gonna keep this up.”

He pauses a moment as he thinks about how best to answer. “I… like tha fuckin’ power ya seem ta have over me,” he admits finally. He knows he’s fucked up and if this has any chance of going anywhere tonight he is going to have to be honest. “Not used to enjoyin’ somethin’ like that and once the pleasure subsided I got self-conscious ‘bout it. I shoulda said somethin’ to ya sooner. I’m not exactly tha best at tryin’ new things.”

Dammit, that’s actually a reasonable excuse. And, of course, you’re already forgiving him. Fuck. “I guess I can understand that,” you admit as he ever so subtly brushes his lips over your own, which doesn’t help you in staying mad at him. “But how do I know you’re not gonna just pull this shit again, hmm? That we’re not gonna keep playing this game where I give you what you need and then you just ignore me till you need it again? Cause guess what, I got needs too you know.”

Releasing one of your hips, his rough fingers come up to mess with the zipper on your jacket as he lets his confession linger in the air a moment until he pushes the edges of your open coat back to see the skimpy bits of clothing you have underneath and his breath hitches. Barely anything on; god damn he is starving.

Simon’s dark eyes meet yours one for a split second before he breaks the short distance between your faces to catch your lips in a desperate and heated kiss that you cannot help but reciprocate with the same intensity. It’s not exactly the answer you wanted, but in this moment it isn’t half bad and all that frustration melts away as your mouths dance in feverish bursts until finally Simon breaks the kiss.

He inhales a shuddered breath. “Because ya got me in a fuckin’ chokehold, luv.”

You swallow hard to collect yourself; you have been waiting for this chance to spread your dominant wings again and now is not the time to get swept up in his overwhelming desire, not if you want to do this right; you need to keep your head. 

“Well, then that was a good first start, but I’m gonna need a bit more before I can really forgive you.”

Those coffee eyes drift back up from your flushed lips to your face. “I wanna make this right. I’m at your fuckin’ mercy.”

The dog tags around his neck clank together as he shifts his stance and the sound causes a reaction that makes your hand gravitate to them without even thinking. Your fingers find the chain wrapped around his neck and slip around it, pulling it towards you to grip it tightly in your fist, and tug hard.

The action is unexpected and even though it takes Simon by surprise he cannot help moaning deep and guttural at the feeling of the chain tightening around his throat in such a delicious way. This is why he knew he had to come to you tonight, you are full of surprises and he was doing himself a disservice by staying away.

His reaction is evidence that you’re onto something and you decide to run with it. “Then you best be obedient and get down on your knees,” you whisper into the intimate space between your mouths. 

You wrap the chain around your fingers again to make it tighter around his neck and give the tags another hard jerk downward now. That hulking man doesn’t hesitate to follow your direction, slipping out of his shoes and lowering himself to the ground right at your feet like a dog waiting for a treat.      

God, it already feels good to be back in this headspace again, he thinks and your thoughts match the same without either of you knowing.

With your free hand, you wiggle your arm until the sleeve of your jacket slips down and you can pull your arm out of it before you switch the chain to the other hand and do the same to the other side. The clothing falls around your feet and there you stand in almost nothing. 

Simon’s eyes are immediately drawn to your clothed pussy, but you need him to pay attention and so you jerk the chain. “Eh, eyes up on me. I need you to look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Dark eyes snap back to your face and you smirk. “There you go,” you praise him before issuing your first of many demands. “Now, I want you to listen carefully. You are going to take off my panties… with your teeth.” 

Again he immediately follows your order, holding his hands together behind his back to prevent them from getting involved and he leans in to place his lips against your lower abdomen as his teeth latch onto the waistband of your panties. Simon looks up just for a second to see how you tower over him with his makeshift leash wrapped around your delicate fingers. 

God, you look so fucking good.

It makes him feel small for the first time since he was a kid. His body feels like it is vibrating at a new frequency now as he drags that small piece of fabric off your hips and down the length of your legs, excitement and ecstasy flooding through him at a rapid pace so that his heartbeat is pounding dangerously fast.

“That tongue of yours is going to have to do a little more forgiving,” you say as he reaches your ankles, his mouth still clinging to that delicate bit of fabric, his face in the floor as he waits for you to step out of them so that he can sit back upright with his prize between his lips. 

That’s all the context he needs to know what’s coming and his heartbeat leaps excitedly in his chest at the prospect of having his face buried between your legs. You can see the look in his eyes as he drops the undergarment from his mouth and lets it fall down to the floor between his knees; so eager to please in that aspect, but this isn’t for him, it’s for you. 

You chuckle at his electric enthusiasm that you can feel coursing from him as you place your hand at the back of his head. “Don’t get too excited now, you better be sure I can feel just how sorry you are,” you say as you push his head in towards your body, struggling to hide the way your breathing hitches as he gets in close and his balmy lips make contact with the skin on your abdomen.

His lips are already on the move the moment they touch down and he trails them to the mound of your sex, through the trimmed patch of hair at the top of your pussy, before they sink into the bulk of your thick, stocky thighs. Carefully he helps you to adjust your footing so that he can lift your leg. 

Propping it up on his own thigh, he sits back on his calves so that his face sits at the same level as your pussy and in a flash he is smothering his face right between those dangerously thick pieces of flesh as you widen your stance with his guidance to make it easier, adjusting the chain in your hand so you don’t lose it. Hardened fingertips dig themselves into your body, forcing you even more firmly against his face until his nose is pressed into your clit and he moves his head back and forth to stimulate it with the tip. 

There is little oxygen to be had from the heat between your legs, but it doesn’t matter. The sound of your soft gasp as he penetrates your entrance with his tongue is enough to sustain him until he can come up for air. Lapping and thrusting, wriggling and applying pressure, he writes his apology all over your cunt until the overwhelming euphoria of being devoured washes away the rest of your annoyance at him.

He is relentless in his endeavor, putting his all into eating you out like a goddess deserves. That tongue has moved up to your clit now and with weighty presses over the tiny bean you can barely contain yourself, but you continue to hang on. There is still more work to be done to him and as good as this feels you cannot let it derail your objective.

You raise your hand to the top of his head. “Who do you belong to Simon?” you ask through a moan as you pet over his scalp and through his short hair. “I’m going to need you to say it, out loud, so that I know you aren’t going to stray away from me again. Say it, say you’re mine.”

Simon pulls away from you swiftly. “I’m yours,” he says against your pussy.

You can feel his warm breath on your lips. “Again,” you push for another answer.

His fingers dig into your thighs. “I am yours, sweetheart.”

“Good boy,” you praise and you can feel him shiver against the palm of your hand still resting over the crown of his head. 

That military officer eats you out as if he is a man starved, his aggression in taking all he can from you making you lose it fast and you scramble as he goes to come up with what comes next. You hadn’t forgotten his words from the last encounter, how he wanted you to make him beg, and you know that this isn’t the way to make that happen; he would clearly love to drown in you forever and be happy to do it.

The more that pressure that builds at the base of your spine, the less time you have to claw through the haze to create a plan, but as you look up from the top of his head bobbing between your legs your sight lands on your bed and like being struck with lightning, your mind materializes a single image of him tied down, arms outstretched with you on top of him and you know what you want to do.

Calmly you try to pull him from you. “That’s enough,” you coax, but he digs his fingers in harder to your hips.

“Wanna make ya cum,” he groans into your body, but you pull him from you by contorting the chain and taking a step back to get out of his immediate way.

“I’m not done with you yet,” you say with a smirk as you look down into his face to see the lower half glimmering with your slick and his saliva. “It’s time to move on to the next part. Go get on the bed and lay down on your back up by the head… and don’t make me tell you again.”

Wiping the wet mixture from his mouth and chin with the back of his hand, he gets to his feet and heads to the bed just as you directed. You have to do this on the fly since you haven’t had any time to prepare, but thankfully your pack of gear isn’t far and making your way to it, you dive into one of your duffel bags. It takes you a minute, but finally your hand makes purchase with what you are searching for and you pull out a bundle of military issue rope. 

“Arms out,” you direct him as you make your way back over to the bed. “I know someone likes to get handsy, so we’re gonna take care of that.”

His eyes stay glued to your movements as you bind his wrists and strap them down to the legs under your bed. It’s a good thing you did because as soon as you finish you stand at the foot and remove your tank top agonizingly slowly, letting your breasts bounce as they fall out and you can see the way his pupils dilate; you know he is itching to get his hands on you again. His sweats start to tent even more than they had from the pleasure of being face-deep in your pussy as you stand there completely naked like the most gorgeous creature he’s ever seen.

Are you a devil, an angel? Whatever you are, he cannot get enough.

Like a lioness stalking through the grass, you slink onto the bed on all fours, moving until you are over top of his legs where you finally stop and your fingers brush across his stomach as you grab at the waistband of his pants. “Lift your hips,” you command and he does.

You pull them down and off his legs and you can see his cock is already pulsing at attention as it springs free from its cage. Fuck, he’s so hard already he can barely see straight and he has to clench his fists tight and take a few deep breaths to calm himself as he waits for further instruction.

Using the pad of your pointer finger, you lightly brush it over his tip and watch as he almost levitates off the bed as he groans. You wait until he has settled back down before you decide to speak, the smile on your face unable to be contained; oh, he is going to be begging alright, once you’re done with him.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do… we are going to play a little game. I want just the tip inside me, that’s it. And you’re going to lay there and let me warm it for a bit. If you can last till I say then I’ll let you fuck me however you want.” 

You lean over him to grab his chin firmly in your hand. “Do you understand?”

Simon struggles to keep his eyes from rolling back into his head as your skin brushes against him. Fuck, why did he wait so long for this? “Yes,” he says.

That drugged look in his eyes, you can’t get enough of it. “Yes, what?”

Crap, what should he say? You are waiting for his reply, but his mind is already gone. Luckily the soldier in him takes over. “Yes, sergeant, understood.”

That’ll do. “You’re even better at this than you were last time,” you praise, releasing his chin to position your body over top of him, using his chest as leverage, and you can tell he is holding his breath as you grab his cock to place the head right at your entrance.

“Aww, baby, you better breathe cause we’re going to be here a while,” you say and lower your hips to take the tip inside the threshold of your wet cunt.

Simon is now in a battle with internal demons as he fights himself not to cum from this small bit of insertion, his cock is throbbing something fierce as your body puts the tip in a chokehold. You aren’t faring any better as he stretches you out; all you want is to lower yourself on it all the way, but you push that feeling down and incline yourself forward so you won’t be tempted.

The heartbeat coming up through your palms pressed into his chest is thunderous and you can’t help but smile as you count the strikes to calm down. “There we go,” you say after a moment. “See, you’re already doing so well Si. If you keep this up you’re gonna get what you want, to fuck the shit out of me.”

Minutes pass, but the time passes so incredibly slowly that it feels like hours to the lieutenant. He’d been in all types of high stress situations in his career, but nothing had ever been more overwhelming than having to rest just barely inside you without letting that animalistic part of himself take over to thrust up into you until you both cum.

Sweat starts to gather on his bare chest the longer this goes, a product of the conflict raging inside, and it rolls down in shimmering beads over the curves of his muscles, through the hair covering his chest and abdomen, all the way past his belly button. 

You can tell Simon is losing the war with himself to stay still as he unintentionally tries to buck his hips up into you, but he can’t get any purchase as you raise yourself up off him. “Ah, ah, ah, the more you struggle, the less you get,” you tease. “I said just the tip and I meant it. Now, be a good boy and stay still; we’re almost done. You don’t want to lose it right at the end, do you?”

The need is killing him and he can hardly see straight anymore. He wants, no he needs to be deep inside you, but he can’t. You won’t let him. Instead his eyes fixate on something else, anything to give him the strength to survive. 

“See something you like?” you ask with a coy smile spread across your lips. “I can see how hard you’re focusing on my nipples.”

“Need ‘em… in my mouth…” he stammers out. 

“Then stay still and maybe I’ll let you suck them.”

Forcing himself not to move an inch, he becomes like stone even as his muscles twitch and you move your upper body towards him just enough so that he can lean his head in and capture one of your breasts in his hot mouth. 

The moan he lets out in relief is intoxicating, matching the way you feel in between his lips. His suction is strong, pulling as much of the soft, supple tissue into his mouth that he can until breathing becomes nearly impossible. 

“You like that?” you ask in a groan of pleasure and he nods enthusiastically. 

There’s a light pop as he unsuctions his lips from around the first breast to get at the other one, pulling it into his mouth with just as much enthusiasm as the first one. Your distraction is working a little too well, but on you now and it isn’t long before it’s going to make you break.  

You need to end this soon.

“How bad do you want to fuck me now?” you ask, grinding on his tip as you push on his chin to remove him from your nipple so he can at least try and answer.  

There is a hazy quality to his eyes now that reminds you of someone after a night out of heavy drinking. He can barely speak as he feels your slick start to drip down his shaft, but he swallows to gather the strength to create a simple sentence. “So fuckin’ bad.” The words feel too cumbersome in his mouth.

“You want me to untie you so you can take me?” you ask, your tone still cocky even as you yourself are falling apart.

“Please,” he grunts.

“Yeah, you gonna ruin this tight pussy? You gonna rail me so hard I can’t walk after?”

You risk lowering down a bit more onto his shaft and he has to bite the inside of his lip in order to answer. “Gonna ruin you.”

“Then you know what you have to do, Simon. You said it yourself last time and I am going to hold you to it.”

You rotate your hips as you squeeze so that your walls clamp down on him and he chokes on his own saliva as he strains to stay still. His cock is so sensitive he’s sure by now that a little breeze would make him blow his load, but that’s not how he wants it to happen. He’s come this far, the only way he wants to go out is from fucking you.

One more rotation and you stay still to give him a moment to recover; you need his fervent participation for this next part. “ Simon,” you say his name to make him focus on your face again, “beg.”

You’re not gonna go easy on him; that’s just what he wants. “Please,” he says in a whimper, his voice the most meek you’ve ever heard it. It surprises even him that he can sound so pathetic after all the years he’s been the dominant one. “Please, luv, I need ta fuck ya. I’m beggin’ ya luv, please. I’ll… I’ll… I’ll be your good boy. Whateva ya want me ta say, I’ll fuckin’ say it; whateva ya want me ta do, I’ll fuckin’ do it. Jus’ want ta be good for ya so we both can fuckin’ cum.”

“And you’re not gonna pull away from me again?” you ask. “Not gonna deny yourself this type of pleasure from now on?”

“I swear it,” he doesn’t hesitate to answer. “I’m yours, I belong to ya.”

A smile spreads across your lips and fills the features of your face. “Good boy,” you praise as you raise yourself off his body amongst his agonized grunts of displeasure. You move closer to the first wrist to undo the restraint. “That was better than I could have imagined, Simon. I think you’ve more than earned your turn now.”

The tie on his second wrist hasn’t even slipped off the bed before you are forcefully grabbed by the waist and flung onto your back as Simon rips your legs apart and clambers his hulking body in between your thighs. He looks down and sees the effect your teasing has had on you too as the lips of your pussy are covered with your arousal. 

What a pretty fucking sight.

But there’s something he’s been thinking of since you grabbed his dog tags back at the start of all this, one last thing he wants you to do as he pounds you into the mattress. Grabbing both of your arms by the wrists he wrenches them up so that your hands are near his neck. He releases them from his grasp and uses his own hands to encircle yours around his throat.

“Squeeze, hard,” he growls as he leans in to capture your lips and you apply ample pressure to the sides of his neck.

It’s like flicking on a switch and his kisses turn rough and intense in a second so that he is devouring your mouth with everything he has, shoving his tongue to the back of your mouth until you are so full of him just as you will be down below in only a few more seconds time. A low groan vibrates in his throat against your palms before spilling onto your tongue. 

“Mmm, gonna fuck the shit outta ya now, luv,” he gasps between the embraces of your mouths. 

God, yes, please. “Then give it to me, baby,” you purr as you keep your hands firmly around his neck. “That’s it, get your prize.”

Simon pushes your thighs back towards your chest as he aligns the head of his throbbing cock with your moist entrance and you can no longer hold back how much you need him in you, inching your hips forward as you try to force him inside. Is it desperate? Yes. Is it needy? Yes. Do you fucking care? Not even in the slightest.

He’s the one to chuckle now. “Christ, you’re gonna be tha death ‘a me and I’m gonna die fuckin’ happy as hell.” With that he pushes through the threshold and down the length of his thick shaft, bottoming out all the way inside.

After all that stimulation, being smothered in your tight, wet cunt is almost too much for his sanity to handle. Just entering you he is already seeing stars. What’s going to happen when he actually comes?  

The first of his movements comes swift and hard; there is no more time for being gentle, not with the way both of your bodies are in agony for release. Your poor, government issued mattress can hardly withstand the power of his desperate thrusts as he slams them forcefully into you, each one causing the springs to creak and groan loudly until it is echoing off the walls.   

You open your mouth, pushing yourself to keep in control even as he is shoving his cock so far into you, you swear you can feel it in your stomach. “That’s it, give it to me Simon. Fuck, I love the way you stretch me out.”

The sloppy sounds of your drenched pussy being penetrated so aggressively grow louder and louder the more he ruts into you at that relentless pace. He pushes your legs back farther against your chest to open you up even more, needing to get as deep as humanly possible. There is only one thing left in his feeble mind now: to make you both cum and cum hard.

You let out a moan as your body shakes up and down with each thrust and squeeze so that you tighten around him and it makes his thrusting falter, breaking his rhythm for a moment.

“Bloody hell, jus’ like that… fuck…”

His words fuel you to do it again and he groans. “Yeah? You like that?” you ask breathlessly and he nods.

“That’s what you do to me Simon,” you continue. “No one makes me feel like you do.”

You compress around him again and his body jolts. “God, you’re gonna make me cum. It feels so good, sweetheart. Don’t stop.” 

“I want you to cum, Si. Cum for me. I need it so fucking bad; I’ve been waiting so long to make it happen again.”

Just the thought of making him fall apart again is a stimulant in itself and all that pressure that had been previously built is quickly coming to a head, that warmth in your belly glowing through you with more intensity now. That look of euphoria must be plastered all over your face for him to see because he is focused in on you even harder at making sure his strokes are more even.

“You first,” Simon grunts. “And don’t fuckin’ hold back.”

He is fighting tooth and nail to hold on for just a little bit longer; he knows you can’t be far off. Then he sees your toes curling into the air at his sides and he instinctively knows that each thrust is hitting its mark precisely as it’s meant to, your body giving in to all the pleasure it needs to be satisfied. A few more pumps and there it is, just like that everything comes to a head with a shudder as your orgasm rockets through you fiery hot, making your body writhe in his grasp as your core flutters around his cock.

You place your hand over his gripped around your thigh and he laces his fingers in between the spaces in your own, holding onto you for dear life as you coax him with shaky words. “Let go, baby. That’s it.”

He isn’t far behind and it doesn’t take many more strong thrusts until the warmth that had been tirelessly overwhelming his body all night finally shoots through his body while he releases a loud moan, the euphoria coursing like a burning river of fire through his veins as he rips his cock out and you reach between your legs to take it in your free hand to stroke it over your stomach. His warm load shoots out in short bursts, coating the skin on your abdomen in his cum.

“You did so good for me, Simon,” you sweetly praise in repeat as you work his cock until he has to tap your hand to get you to stop.

His limbs are shaking from the comedown as he breathes in deep, his body spent, his mind completely blank in his state of ecstasy, and he releases your legs to tumble down beside you exhausted. A few minutes pass silently in that high until he can collect himself enough to speak again.   

With his palm against your cheek, he turns your head to face him. “If I ever do somethin’ as stupid as tryin’ to stay away from ya again, ya ‘ave my permission to fuckin’ deck me,” he says with a laugh before scooching in closer to your face to place a kiss to your lips.

“That’s not gonna happen,” you say against his mouth, “ cause you said it yourself Si, you’re mine now. And you would never deny me what’s mine, would you?”

Another kiss placed to your lips, this one lingering a bit. “Never,” he says finally.

Good, you think, cause I will fucking deck you.

[smollsmule]

Ok my queue spit this out after I saved it for later, so let me add some nuance here. Because this is a very importand issue, actually.

Of course nobody is prohibited from readin the books they enjoy. Hell, I like me some easily digestible fluff too! Some of my favourite book series are ya (and genuinely great books despite being “easy to read”).

There is something to be said however about limiting yourself to only engaging with that level of difficulty in reading. And before you come at me, I know that many people don't read at all and to many others reading is simply a hobby to unwind after a long day, where they just wanna turn their brain off and have some fun. Which is a totally fair reason to read. BUT. Reading (or more broadly, literacy) will never be just that. You live in an age of (mis)information and you WILL be confronted with texts (speeches, video clips, what have you) that are hard to dissect. Especially the ones that don't seem like it at first glance.

Media literacy is not only about how quickly you can summarise a paragraph or being able to pull quotes to show how maybe a character could be read as queer (although both of those things are a very good indicator of having advanced literacy). It's the VITAL skill of filtering and assesing information presented to you before so you can make an informed choice to internalise or discard it. It's being able to understand the information in the first place by grasping a complex thought presented to you in writing or in a speech because the simple truth is that not all truths are simple.

Media literacy gives you the ability of identifying that someone is trying to make you believe something and parsing why they're doing it by identifying the tools they are using. Which means you also need to know the tools they have at their disposal. It also means being able to connect points brought up before in the same or different texts to see if there is inconstencies or leaps in logic or if the argument someone is making only looks good because they use big words and a sentence structure that “feels” smart, but actually falls apart as soon as you poke at it a little.

Forgive me sounding alarmist, but if you can't read at that level people who have these tools WILL have power over you and you won't even have the tools to notice that they do. Even if people are not actively trying to harm or manipulate you, if you're unable to engage with their ideas you will get left behind in certain vital discussions and that not only feels like shit because everybody gets it but you, but it also again makes you incredibly vulnerable to those who do have bad intentions!

Now does that mean you only get to read Proust from now on? Of course not! I still do believe that a piece of literature can directly and fundamentally change your life. I know it has for me. However, that is a personal opinion and it doesn't mean I can force anyone to engage with deep philosophical manifestos on what it isto be human in this world. And even less that I want to do that, despite me thinking that literally ANYONE could benefit from reading that kind of thing. But you NEED to be able to read complex texts outside of your comfort zone for honest to god survival. I am so fucking serious.

And, hey! The good news is that this is not some secret mystical power you either get blessed with or not. It is a skill you can train, by reading challenging material. Books with more complex sentence structures, more nuanced ideas or arguments. Books that force you to think about them. I hate to say it but the only way to get better at reading is to read. It doesn't have to be fiction but i will be very real with you, I doubt that - if you're putting down a book because it's unreadable to you based on the chosen perspective - you'll be the type to pick up scientific essays or anything like that.

Don't cut yourself off from vital skills by locking your mind in a box. You are capable to handle those more complex texts, and I'd wager you'll even enjoy it once you find your niche (yes! you still get to have preferences!). You just need to give yourself a chance to learn.

[bohemianblasphemy]

Okay well now I need to know what’s written on the “paperwork” Spencer drops off at work. 😳 Tell me bestie, I need to know. I NEEEEEDDD!

Secrets in Ink

Based on a headcanon from this post ✨

(Also thank you cas for your help 🥺🖤)

There were perks of working at the BAU with your partner- being around each other for the working hours, spending breaks talking about your day; a downside however is having to keep your hands to yourself.

And man, was it difficult with Spencer Reid is your partner.

The day was dragging, and it seemed that the pile of loose papers and files to be sorted wasn’t getting any smaller.

A small frustrated groan left your mouth, rubbing your dry tired eyes as you tried to keep yourself awake.

Spencer observed you from his desk, seeing your weary demeanour and he frowned a little bit- trying to think of a way to make you feel better.

And of course, with that IQ of 187 and knowing you like the back of his hand, he pulled out a blank sheet of paper and acquired his pen.

He took his time to write you a note- carefully obscuring what he was composing to any wandering eyes that may be present, wanting to create something that was going to make you shiver and look forward to your… after work activities.

With a small, satisfied smile he signed off of the sweetly sensual letter- folding it neatly in half as he stood up to make his way over to you.

You were so deep in your paperwork, not noticing the tall figure walking toward you- not until he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Hey sweetie…” he whispered, observing you as you had broken out of your trance. You looked up at him, seeing his small smile and tousled curls, god he looked good- he always did.

“Hey Spencer… more paperwork for me?” You chuckled half heartedly, gesturing to the folder piece in his hand.

“Not work related… just a little something for you.” He smiled, placing the paper on the desk in front of you. Spencer’s hand gently reached your cheek, softly stroking it with his thumb.

“Just to make you feel better…”

That gentle gesture… fuck it did things to you.

“Thank you Spencer…” you leaned into his touch, gazing up at him with a small twinkle in your eye.

He gazed back at you, as though you the centre of the universe - the centre of his.

Spencer bent over slightly to whisper in your ear.

“Read it, but make sure no one else sees it. For your eyes only.” His gentle yet firm words were followed up with a sweet kiss on the cheek, seeing the blood rush to them as he pulled away and began to walk back to his desk.

Your curiosity overwhelmed you, unfolding the piece of paper to see what he had been written…

My sweet girl,

I don’t think you realise how hard it is to keep my hands to myself as I see you across the room, wanting to take you into one of the vacant offices and absolutely enrapture you.

The mere thought of bending you over on that empty desk, hearing those sweet sounds that you make as I take you from behind- makes it hard for me to control myself.

It should be a crime that I can’t touch you while we’re on cases; the temptation to let my fingers wander under your skirt and play with you whilst we fly in the jet - the added risk of getting caught whilst doing so making it all the more thrilling.

All I crave everyday is your lips, your touch, the taste of you between your thighs.

Once we are home tonight you are mine; to take care of, to love, to make you cum…

Yours,

Spencer

The fire that burned within you created a deeper red flush to surface on your skin as you finished reading it.

His words stirred desire through you, biting your lip as you thought of them and glanced back at him- cocking your eyebrow suggestively at him.

Spencer smirked as he saw your flustered expression , knowing that his words affected you greatly - but that changed when he noticed Garcia sneaking behind her, her eyes trying to focus on what’s there.

“Whatcha got there, sunshine?” Garcia grins, pulling you from your focus on Spencer. Your eyes widened, rapidly folding the sheet in half and shoving it into your bag on your desk.

“N-nothing- nothing at all Pen.” You replied, clearing your throat to try to seem inconspicuous.

“Mhm sure honey, I know that look, and Spencer’s not exactly making your case any better.” She teased- waving at Spencer across the way in which he returned with a sheepish expression.

After giving you a wink, she turned to walk back to her office- her heels clicking on the floor as you look down at your desk in a flustered manner.

You looked back up at him, not being able to keep a straight face as you started to giggle, which in return made Spencer smile in adoration for you.

Tonight couldn’t come any faster…

[gffa]

*walks back into BATFAMILY fic fandom eleven months later, holding a Starbucks cup* I'm right on time, I don't know what you mean. AND I have returned with the fruits of a fandom that continues to be incredible at providing the good stuff! Sometimes it's still hard for me to grasp just how much fic has exploded onto the scene in the 10+ years I was away from DC, that there was some incredible fic back when I was into the fandom, but coming back to actual mountains of it has continued to blow my mind every time and made me love these characters even more than I already did.

It's almost overwhelming, honestly, how much good fic there is to read, so let me scream at you guys and shove links at you because I'm having a great time here and I want to drag all of you into it with me, COME HAVE FEELINGS ABOUT RIDICULOUSLY DRESSED SUPERHERO COMICS WITH ME, it's all fun and games, I swear! (Okay, but at least you'll have a good time crying about the Bats, I can give you that much at least.)

BATFAM FIC RECS - BABY DICK IS THE CUTEST GREMLIN ROBIN I'M NOT HEARING ANY ARGUMENTS: ✦ sleepless, perfect duty by glassofwater, dick & bruce, 4.3k     The choice to forgo sleep, to forgo Dick Grayson, has never been easier. Not when the other option is Robin. ✦ Parallels in Reverse by rosetteanon, dick & damian & bruce, time travel, 2.2k     Damian travels to a dimension that's a little bit behind his own. There, he meets a younger Dick Grayson, and a happier Bruce Wayne. ✦ string theory by wingdingery, dick & bruce & damian, time travel, 8k     When Bruce and Dick get transported to an unfamiliar Gotham, it only takes running into a different Batman and Robin for Bruce to realize two things: one, they’re in the future; and two—in the future, Dick Grayson is dead. ✦ Rooftop Meetings by orphan_account, dick & bruce & leslie & shrike & cast, 10.2k wip     When Two-Face almost beats a newly minted Robin to death, Bruce decides that the life of a vigilante is too dangerous for a kid. This becomes the catalyst for a series of events that leads twelve-year-old Dick Grayson down a darker path. ✦ It Could Stay This Simple (Just Stay This Little) by coconuticecream (magspie), dick & bruce, 3k     Maybe claiming legal guardianship over a child at 22, and so soon after becoming Batman, spread Bruce thinner than he'd realized. Maybe Bruce was less equipped to parent a third grader than he'd thought. Maybe Bruce should do more to invite Dick into his life. Maybe Bruce should hug Dick, or promise he'll do better by Dick, or tell Dick that he loves Dick more than he thought himself capable. (or: bruce and dick practice self care together.) ✦ No One Said Flying Was Easy by Wrtrmd2, dick & bruce & alfred, 51.1k     Eight year old Richard Grayson has just watched his parents fall to their deaths. Hurting and alone, he struggles to adjust to the new life he's thrown into. Bruce Wayne takes him in, but seems to have no idea what he's doing. Can they help each other put the pieces of their broken lives back together?

✦ Zitka by PechoraFlow, dick & bruce, 2.7k     After Dick's parents fall to their deaths, he is left clinging to the few things he has left: one of them being Zitka, his stuffed elephant. ✦ your heart is the only place that i call home by emavee, dick & bruce, talon!dick, 6.3k     There shouldn’t be any Talons that are this small, this young, but there’s one standing right in front of him. And that shouldn’t be Bruce’s soulmark blooming on his too-pale skin, but it is—there’s nothing else it could be. Batman really should know better than to bring a Talon home with him, but here he is, wrapping up the boy in a set of meta-cuffs and tucking him into the backseat of the car. ✦ Hostage by EternalLife, dick & bruce & alfred, 3.9k     Dick Grayson is 10 years old. Batman is nowhere to be seen, and Robin has a gun to his head. ✦ The Mother-Son Dance by cometoastop, bruce & dick, 1.8k     Dick is upset he doesn’t have a mother to bring him to his school’s mother-son dance, so Bruce offers to bring him instead.

BATFAM FIC RECS - ADULT BATSON AND BATDAD ARE MY KRYPTONITE, I FOLD LIKE WET CARDBOARD FOR THEM: ✦ Permission To Pause by farawayfiction (JJ_Thomas), dick & bruce, 1.9k     Bruce pulled the phone from his pocket. A text from Dick was waiting for him on the notification screen. ✦ oathbreaker by one_step_closer_to_death, dick & bruce & cast, 2.3k     Stranded and on his last leg, Batman might be fighting his last battle yet. But Bruce promised he was coming back home and this was one promise he wasn't going to break yet. ✦ Judge and Juror by CamsthiSky, dick & bruce & alfred, 6.6k     Anonymous asked: I was just wondering if you would like to write a story set during bvs and how Nightwing could be involved there? ✦ When You Don't Have an Umbrella by TheSilencer, dick & bruce, read the tags, 1.2k     Dick Grayson and Batman talk about the rain. Except they're not actually talking about the rain. ✦ riding the blues by TheResurrectionist, dick & bruce & oc, 3.9k     “What’s in there, anyway?” Charles asked, rolling down the window. “Looks heavy.” “A few million dollars' worth of electroshock weapons,” the kid said, dead-serious. After a moment, a grin stretched across his face. “Nah, I’m just fucking with you. It’s old clothes, mostly.” ✦ Lexically Homeless by nighhtwing (divineauthor), dick & bruce, 1.1k     Dick, Bruce, and their relationship with language and each other.

BATFAM FIC RECS - EVERYBODY LOVES DICK: ✦ One, Two, Buckle My Shoe by sElkieNight60, dick & jason & tim & damian & bruce & alfred, de-aged!dick, 17k wip     Dick was twenty-eight. The boy in the mirror most certainly was not. ✦ Weight of Judgment by Dragonbat, dick & bruce & alfred, 1.6k     As leader of the Teen Titans, Dick had to make a difficult decision. Now he's dealing with the fallout. ✦ Robins, titmice, and other spring birds by Fleur_de_Violette, dick & jason & bruce, 8.5k     There are a lot of things Jason doesn’t understand in the dynamic of the Wayne manor, despite being here for nine months. Maybe a rescue turning a little more dangerous than it should have been for Robin will help him see things clearly? ✦ bachelor parties of different sorts by cedarcat, dick & jason & barbara & cass & bruce (& background dick/babs), read the tags, 4.4k     Dick and Barbara are engaged. There's just one complicating factor that Dick has to deal with. He'd rather avoid it. aka: the one where dick handles past trauma poorly, finds the support he needs in his family, and comes out better for it. ✦ Kitchen Talk by Smitty, dick & alfred, 3.1k     Dick Grayson gets some good advice in the hours before Nightwing #45. ✦ Teach Me to Dream by CamsthiSky, dick & bruce & alfred & leslie & cast, time travel, 29k wip     Dick’s eleven. Not thirteen and eager to prove himself. Not seventeen and mourning a brother. Not nineteen and wishing his best friend wasn’t dead and Bruce would look him in the eyes. He’s only eleven. So why does he remember all of that? ✦ like the back of my hand by Jo_B, dick & bruce & conner & dick/babs, 2k     “Cut it out.” “Would you stay still, please?” Dick swats Bruce’s hand away and starts pushing himself up. “Y’know, in the wild, bats eat their kids.” “That’s not even a little bit true and you know it.” ✦ idea man by vaporeon_ninja, dick & bruce & jason & damian, 8.3k     Ask him. As if it were that easy. As if Damian hasn’t only just barely begun to respect him, and would immediately burn all the ground they’ve covered if Dick so much as implied he wanted to help him get through something. Yeah, fat chance. No, Dick can’t ask him. But he can’t just keep doing nothing, either. So he decides on a third option- just start trying anything. ✦ One of His Own by DawnsEternalLight, dick & bruce & damian & alfred, 1.3k     Dick's freshly back from Spyral and apartment hunting. Little Does he know his dad has already got that covered. ✦ Now That's a Lot of Damage by Sanctioned_Chaos, dick & bruce & jason & tim & cass & cast, 5k wip     On a joint operation with the Justice League, Dick's family falls victim to a particularly malignant curse and he's the only one who can free them. Consequently, it makes him the subject of their suffering.

BATFAM FIC RECS - JASON TODD IS AN ASSHOLE CAT, I'M GONNA THROW HIM AT DICK BECAUSE IT'S FUNNY (AND MAYBE SOME OF HIS OTHER SIBLINGS TOO): ✦ All the Roofs of Uncertainty by Kieron_ODuibhir, dick & jason & bruce & leslie & cast, 70k     For all the blood on his hands, Red Hood was never just a villain. And Nightwing never gives up on family, not for good. (Or: The one where Dick bleeds a lot and Jason argues with everybody.) ✦ Red In My Ledger by WordsAblaze, dick & jason, 1.1k     day five, where jason realises a little too late that dick isn’t an intruder breaking into his safehouse... ✦ Fixed Points and Fluxes by i_am_the_imposter_syndrome, dick & jason (& bruce), 16.5k wip     When a mission involving a mysterious sorcerer goes wrong, Dick and Jason find themselves out of time and place in a Gotham that’s not quite their own. Protocol dictates they lie low and avoid unnecessary interactions as much as possible until they can get home, but their family here is fractured, and if there’s one thing that’s constant across universes, it’s that Bats have each other’s backs. ✦ Too Close to Call by Dragonbat, dick & jason & bruce, 5.8k     Summary: Things go horribly wrong when Robin thinks he can bring in Two-Face by himself. Now Nightwing’s life is on the line and one bad decision might spell disaster!

BATFAM FIC RECS - DICK AND DAMIAN WERE THE BEST BATMAN & ROBIN, I'M NOT HEARING ARGUMENTS ABOUT THAT EITHER: ✦ Won't You Stay A While? by fishfingersandjellybabies, dick & damian & tim, 2.8k     Ric did not expect to find a child sitting on the hood of his cab. Damian did expect to get his brother back. ✦ The Universe Doesn’t Get to Take This by fishfingersandjellybabies, dick & damian & bruce, 1.9k     “And they’re so important that you don’t come home to check on your recently un-amnesiac brother? And here, I thought I was your favorite.” ✦ Just a Little TLC by fishfingersandjellybabies, dick & damian, 1.7k     Dick was not sick. Really. He was fine. Fine!

BATFAM FIC RECS - BATKIDS ALL HAVE MANY SIBLINGS AND THEY'RE ALL PETTY ASSHOLES AND/OR WONDERFUL BABIES AND I LOVE THEM WITH MY WHOLE BEING: ✦ The Long Way Home by itsnatalie, jason & tim & bruce & dick & damian & cast, 111.6k     With Jason tentatively back in the Batfamily, things are going pretty well for him--except for the whole thing with Tim. But who gives a shit about Tim Drake? But when Jason and Tim are pulled into a frightening race for their lives inside a labyrinth that's out to kill them, they may have to look past their differences just to stay alive. Maybe along the way, they'll discover they aren't as different as they thought, and family comes in many different forms. ✦ IRIS Log #1548 by deadchannelradio, jason & cass & barbara & bruce & steph & tim & damian & roy & dick, 8.5k     A Disclaimer From Your Friendly Neighborhood Oracle: The following is a transcript of Patrol Communications Audio written by state of the art transcription technology, IRIS (Interpretation of Recorded Intelligence Software). IRIS was created to provide easily searchable records, automatically, and eliminate the need to transcribe each patrol audio log manually. That being said, IRIS is still experimental, and may not always be entirely accurate. ✦ Real Housewives (sort of) of Gotham by brandywine421, dick & selina & bruce & damian & jason & roy & talia & dinah & harley/ivy & helena & cast, no powers au, 5.9k     Selina is curious to a fault but she has a twinge of concern at her almost-stepson's name popping up on her personal line. They were allies and frenemies, depending on who was Brucie's favorite pet at the moment but he usually texts birthday wishes and xoxo's instead of actual voice contact. "Is everyone okay?" ✦ War! by Smitty, dick & barbara & tim & cast, 1.9k     What 'entertainment' was Nightwing talking about in Nightwing #44? Innuendo. ✦ Nowhere Safer by lurkinglurkerwholurks, dick & jason & tim & bruce, 9.6k     What's a Robin to do when the nightmares don't stop? ✦ Love like Cats by Laroyena, alfred & bruce & dick & jason & julia & cast, 20.7k     “This takes crazy cat people to a whole new level,” his old friend told him. “So this old family your dad took care of, they left their fortune to a cat.” Alfred Pennyworth, ex-special agent of the British Secret Intelligence Service, moves to America to become a butler. A cat butler. ✦ Minimum Height Requirement by Drag0nst0rm, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph, 66.4k     Somewhere in the multiverse, there's a universe where letting his children dress up in capes and follow him into vigilantism seems like a good idea. Bruce is determined that it isn't going to be this one . . . Despite his children's repeated attempts to convince him otherwise. (Or: "When you're eighteen, you can do what you want. Until then, no capes.")

✦ Family Crisis by librarylexicon, bruce & dick & jason & tim & cass & steph & leslie & cast, 85.8k     At the close of the gang war, Batman uncovers an attempted deception concerning the life of his former protégé Stephanie Brown, and suddenly nothing is as important as his family. While Dick seeks absolution, Tim struggles with grief, Cassandra searches for belonging and Steph rebuilds her sense of self, Bruce faces the return of ghosts from his own past and psyche. (War Games AU) ✦ grasp of ice by Kieron_ODuibhir, tim & damian, 6k     “Drake.” The hand in his was cold. Not because it belonged to a corpse, but because the night was cold. Cold and bright and pitiless, fresh snow glittering perfect under the waning gibbous moon like diamond sand. “Drake. Stay awake.” Drake, because he was insane, smiled before he said, “I don’t want your pity, Robin.” ✦ The Salem Protocol by Dragonbat, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & barbara & jim & cast, 47.4k     An AU version of Batman, RIP. When the GCPD makes a surprising arrest, Gordon knows he needs to call in support. Contains MASSIVE spoilers for Batman #678.

BATFAM FIC RECS - I CUT MY TEETH ON DICK & TIM AS CLOSE BROTHERS AND NO ONE WILL NOT TAKE IT FROM ME: ✦ Hide and Seek by WordsAblaze, dick & tim, 1.1k     day twenty five, where a mission leaves dick and tim playing a not-so-fun version of hide and seek... ✦ To be a good brother by andthentheyweretwo, dick & tim (&tim/kon), 7.7k     It’s not always easy to be a good brother. Sometimes, it’s downright hard. ✦ Think Happy Thoughts by fanfictiongreenirises, dick & tim & bruce, 2.3k     Dick's vitals keep crashing if his thoughts turn downwards. Tim tries to help. ✦ Hisstamine by coyote_nebula, dick & tim, 2.7k     Dick gets bitten by a venomous snake. Tim pretends to know exactly what to do. ✦ Words That Must Be Said by Dragonbat, dick & tim, 1.4k     Tim needs Dick's advice when his long-lost uncle turns up.

BATFAM FIC RECS - DICK/BABS FOREVER AND YOU CAN SHUT IT IF YOU DISAGREE, THEY'RE ADORABLE TOGETHER: ✦ I'll crawl home (to her) by dizarys, dick & babs, ~1k     She needed to focus. She was Oracle and Oracle couldn’t falter or be distracted by personal feelings, not when multiple lives depended on her coordinating teams across the city, the country, the globe. There was no time to worry about Nightwing or his radio silence. Too much going on to pester him. He got out, said he wasn’t majorly wounded, and she needed to trust him. After all he was Nightwing. Vigilante since he was ten. Dick didn’t need her worrying in his ear while trying to stay alive. They needed to be professional because anything else could end in death. ✦ to my word now I'll be true by theragingstorm, dick/ babs, NSFW, 4.7k     A chance night becomes something more. ✦ Scar Tissue by Smitty, dick/babs, 2k     Some scars heal more easily than others. ✦ Time Enough by Smitty, dick/babs, 1k     Barbara asked him for time.

BATFAM FIC RECS - I WILL DIE ON THE HILL THAT TIM DRAKE'S TRUE LOVE INTEREST IS CONNER KENT AND NOBODY CAN STOP ME, NOT EVEN GOD: ✦ What a Hunk (Of Rock) by AelinSardothian, tim/kon & cast, 4.4k     Tim is pulling another all-nighter when an injured Kryptonian lands on his balcony, leaking blood and affection. ✦ Obligatory Nap Time by egg_thief, tim/kon, 2.6k     Tim hasn’t been sleeping lately. Kon’s determined to at least get him to take a nap ✦ GUY.exe by thebodydies, tim/kon, NSFW, 4.6k     “If you tell me what you want,” Conner said, “I’ll do the rest.”

BATFAM FIC RECS - TAKE THE ANGST DIAL, TURN IT UP TO ELEVEN, AND BREAK THE KNOB OFF, THAT'S WHAT I'M HERE FOR: ✦ threadbare by inconstant_moon, dick & jason & tim & damian & bruce & donna & cast, read the tags, 53.8k wip     That's the thing. Dick looked right at the kid, broken hand and all, and nearly let him in. He nearly let him train. Because after all these years, he didn't process anything wrong with the image before him. (Dick, Bruce, and the implications of raising a partner instead of a child.) ✦ Kindness isn't Free by minnow_doodle_doo, bruce & dick & alfred, no powers au, 6.7k     “You need to love humanity unconditionally or else the world will beat you into the ground and you won’t be able to get back up again.” He said into Dick’s hand like a prayer. “And you can’t kill what you love and survive.” ✦ Home Assignment by librarylexicon, dick & bruce & tim & babs (some dick/babs), 6.8k     Blüdhaven police officer Dick Grayson is suffering the tail end of a nasty cough when he's summoned to work a stakeout as Nightwing with Batman and Robin in Gotham. As the night wears on, his worst fears are realised when three urgent pleas for help pull him in separate directions, forcing him to choose between members of his own family in a way that feels suspiciously intentional. ✦ How Sharp The Pieces Were (You Crumbled Into) by WinterSky101, dick & tim & damian & cass & bruce & alfred & steph & duke & cast, 14.9k wip     Dick is back, but scars like his don't heal easily, even with a new healing factor. (Thirteen stories of Dick and his family in the year after his return to Gotham.) ✦ Pain o' Chocolate by Anonymous, bruce & dick, 1k     Dick is in a coma.

[gravegoer]

Hiii! English is not my first language so please forgive any mistakes. Could you do an imagine of Sevika where the reader and her have been together for a long time, and the reader almost dies in battle? (Like, she got shot in a place that bleeds a lot, which makes Sevika super worried) And she makes a little confession to the reader? Saying that she can't lose her and stuff like that. Sorry for the long request, it's my first time ordering 😭😭 Thanks anyway 🩷🤍🩷

Wont lose you ʚɞ

thank you for the request,! it was a bit rushed but I like it anyways let me know if you do :)

masterlist!!

Silco sent you on an important mission, taking down this factory all relied on you. Sevika had insisted on being by your side the entire time, but her request was denied.

Her and two other goons sat on the sidelines to make sure you could get in and out without being seen. No fight. No problem.

Why did she have to get stuck with these guys? She would have been better off down there helping you.

She sat outside the doube doors, one of the men lit a cigarillo for her. All was going according to plan so far.

You had gotten in and deactivated some machines. Now you needed to get out.

Sevika, your long time girlfriend was worried. Despite not wanting to admit it you could tell by the look on her face before you crossed the threshold to the factory.

You chuckled to yourself, thinking of how she patted your back on the way in as encouragement.

But you were confident you could carry this out without a hitch.

What you didn't know is there weren't just guards on the outside.

Your footsteps echoed throughout the seemingly empty factory. All you had to do was pour gasoline around the inside perimeter and on the machines and strike a match. It's not that hard.

You were bent over a machine, checking out the parts and gears before you feel a sharp pain of a blunt object on your back. Turning around you instinctively grab it.

A tall, lanky woman stood towering over you. Before she could pull it from your grasp, you kicked her in the stomach. She stumbled backward with a grut. When you dropped the bat, you were met with another thwack to your head.

You let out a muffled cry, biting your lip. You heard the woosh of an object and half-ducked-half-fell. An ambush. How mature. Another metal bat slammed into the ground beside your head. A broad figure stood over you, moving to hit you again. You rolled to the left but not without getting a swift kick to the stomach.

"Urgh." The wind was knocked out of your lungs. But you had no time to hesitate, jumping to your feet and blocking the next strike of the bat with your forearm.

You grabbed it and pulled it forward, bringing the weilder with it. Letting go with one hand, you slam your fist into their throat. The woman from before came back around, picking up her bat again. You met her metal bat with the one in your hands.

It's okay. You could win. The mission was still going according to plan. Two people with bats you could easily take on. You heard a familiar cocking behind your head.

"Drop it"

Fuck.

You didn't.

Instead, you turned to deliver a high kick to their head. But they managed to pull the trigger faster than you could land it.

Bang

You let out a shrill cry and clutched your side. Blood seeped through your fingers and stained your shirt.

"I told you to drop it," Their deep voice hissed.

You could hear three people rushing into the factory, footsteps echoing throughout the establishment. The person that shot you turned their attention to your team. The trigger happy idiot immediately started firing.

Bullets ricochet against the metal. Sometime amidst the chaos, you started to lose consciousness. Black spots littered your vision, and you finally dropped to your knees. A figure bent over you, yelling incoherent things. She jad a hand on your back, gripping your shirt between clammy fingers.

Looking up, you saw Sevikas distressed expression. Sweat dripped down her forehead, and there was a worried crease between her brows. She was shouting things you couldn't quite make out. Maybe something like "We need to leave" or "We are lighting it up." Maybe both.

She grabbed your legs, hand still on your back and hoisted you into her arms. You could feel her warm arm on your upper back and the hardness of her prosthetic against the back of your legs.

In your groggy state you looked up to Sevika, her teeth gritted as she ran throughout the factory with heavy steps. You could hear an explosion come from far behind you.

A ringing in your ears.

She looked down at you.

Then you passed out.

What seemed to be a few hours later, you groggly awoke. Light seeped into your vision and you attempted to get up. "Fuck," A sharp pain shot through your side.

Oh, right. You got shot.

You looked down to where you now held your side, but instead of blood like how you expected, there are sterile bandages. They wrapped around your now mostly bare torso.

Looking around the room, it seemed familiar to you. Right before you could put your finger on it your girlfriend came walking into the room, holding a glass of water.

Her eyes shot wide open, and she started walking a little faster towards your bedside. "Sweetheart, are you okay?"

You laughed at her suprise, "Yeah. Now that you're here"

Your voice was raspy and dry. You reached out for the water in her hand. She instead pushed your hand down and brought the cup up to your lips herself.

"I thought I'd lost you," She sighs in releif.

You took big gulps of water. She had just finished smoking. You could smell it on her hands. You pulled your lips away from the cup and she brought a thumb to your mouth to wipe away stray water droplets.

It was your turn to ask, "Are you okay?"

She let out a dry laugh, "You're the one sitting in bandages in my bed, and you're asking if Im okay?"

She brings her larger hand to your arm, rubbing circles into your skin. Her rough calloused hands brought some comfort to you.

"Im sorry I let that happen. I shouldn't have let you go in there alone. Silco was wrong," She grumbled, clutching her temples.

"Hey, I can do things by myself. It was an unfair attack." You chimed in.

"I don't care. I dont know what i would do if i lost you in there," She spoke firmly.

Her lips were pursed into a straight line. Trying to calm that tension you reached up to grab her face, bringing her lips to yours.

Her lips chased yours when you pulled away. Hissing as you grabbed your side again. "Shit, do i need to change your bandages?" She got up, already heading for the cabinets.

You were usually the one to dress her wounds, not the other way around. "Aww, you bandaged me up?" You cooed.

"Shut up"

[unknownogre]

“What?!”

The hero looked to Nuvian with a very puzzled expression, the half-elf bard just smirked a bit and gave him a wink. Up until now he was the model of virtue, always helping the hero make the right choice so the people would love him. Telling the best stories so his path stayed true…so the works coming out of his mouth right now were jarring at best.

“Yes, let me toy with him for a while. I think I can get three or four weeks. Two months if I use this new healing spell I’ve been trying to learn on the side. Oh I think his screams will be wonderful…a symphony for the soul if you will.”

Nuvian smile as he moved the villain over to make sure his heart was still bleeding and offering some stabilization without waking him up. The hero was just dumbfounded at the moment.

“I…I was just going to kill him.”

Nuvian didn’t even look back as he made sure to search the Villain’s pockets and remove everything but enough clothes to leave his modesty intact. He moved like he was an expert at this, like it had been done a hundred times and this was simply business as usual. Even his tone was as light and warm as it ever has been.

“Oh, I know, but that was never the plan my dear friend. This was the plan. This has always been the plan.”

The rest of the party was recovering. They had all been just hurt enough to have to stay behind for the final battle leaving only the hero and his trusty bard to face the boss alone. None of them grievously injured…but just enough so they wouldn’t be at full so they weren’t strong enough to walk through the barrier.

“The Plan? You need to talk to me Nuvian. I want you to explain everything right now!”

The Hero panicked, had he just been manipulated this entire time? Were his motivation his own? Panic…worry…dread. He said he’d never be a puppet again. Not since escaping slavery.

“Oh it was simple. Keep you good, get you strong and get to the villain. Kill him, won’t help you feel better. You know it needs to be done though. If you did this, you’d lose part of yourself. Which is fine. You’ve only killed monsters up to this point, mindless hunks of meat that deal out constant aggression. They have no emotions, no anything. They are easy to kill. Sentient beings on the other hand, well that isn’t you cup of tea. Don’t worry, your quest was yours alone, I didn’t need to make you do anything. I was just along to get to this point.”

At this point the Hero didn’t even notice Nuvian hoist the Villain up on their horse and secure them to the saddle. The bard then turned to his friend and walked over to put a hand on his shoulder. The Hero’s eyes locked with his friend and oddly enough he found comfort in them. This was the man who had saved his life, who sang by the fire at night to quell the restless spirits that banded together to remove the Villain from power. He was there, it couldn’t have all been a lie could it?

“Listen, you aren’t the only one this bastard has hurt. On top of that he knows things, things no one but me knows he knows. So I want some answers. I get to have fun while I rip them from his flesh. I’m a nice person my dear Hero but I’m not a good one. Do you remember the corrupt mayor that we punished last year?”

The Hero nodded and then froze.

“What did you do to him? We left him in a jail cell and moved on. The city was supposed to do what they needed…but then you had business. I…I watched you get on a boat and leave. We met up a month later.”

Nuvian just smile and squeezed his friend’s shoulder. He then motioned for him to sit down in the batter throne they found the villain on while Nuvian sat in the stewards spot.

“Well, I did have business, but I just had the ship drop me down the river and I looped around back. I then hunted down every noble that supported the Mayor, I tortured them to make sure there were no hidden secrets, and then I tortured the mayor till his body gave out. I did some of my best work. A demon actually came up from hell to have me autograph a square of his flesh after his body gave out and his soul hit its final destination. It was really an honor. Shows I’m on the right path. Most polite pit fiend I’ve ever met. Didn’t use my real name of course, not that stupid. We had a laugh over it, all in all a great time.”

The Hero was still stunned but honestly he didn’t feel bad about it. He didn’t give the go ahead for this, but he knew if anyone deserved those fates it was that pedophile mayor and his lackies. Reason was starting to return, and the more Nuvian talked the more the Hero realized that it wasn’t that he didn’t know his friend, he just didn’t know ALL of his friend and that was okay because he was finding out now.

“Alright, if that is what you want to do I’m not going to argue or stop you. Come find me when you are done though okay, I want to take you out to the tavern for a drink.”

Nuvian just chuckled and brought his friend in for a hug. He knew the Hero wasn’t naive and thus why he was chosen as a traveling partner and one to help him get to his goal. Find, capture, break and then murder the Villain. The process took three years, but three years of well spent effort.

“Deal.”

The bard said as they parted ways and he turned to head out of the place before the rest of the party could try and press their morals upon them. Nuvian could only chuckle as he head the Villain groan in pain. Oh it was going to be SO much worse in just a day’s time…he couldn’t wait.

'You can't kill him!' 'Ugh I am so sick of this idea that killing this monster would make me just as bad as he is!' 'What? No I'm saying I can keep him alive for DAYS while I torture him' '…'

[drowning-in-paragraphs]

PLAYING DANGEROUS

jude bellingham x gf!reader

warnings: tension, tension, tension... Maybe (a bit) toxic.

summary: After weeks of fighting over a campaign Jude worked on that sparked jealousy in you, your frustration grows as he dismisses your feelings. Fed up with being ignored, you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine. As expected, your boyfriend sees red—his control slipping as the night unfolds, and the tension between you two reaches its boiling point. But, of course, you are having so much fun.

The car ride was thick with an uncomfortable silence. Jude gripped the wheel, his jaw set, eyes fixed ahead. You could feel his frustration radiating off him, each sigh and subtle shift a quiet reminder of the tension simmering between you two. After all the back-and-forth arguments you’d had this week, you were both tired of hashing it out—but the hurt and resentment lingered.

You looked out the window, trying to lose yourself in the nightscape rushing by. The bright lights of the city blurred, but your mind was fixed on one image: that campaign photo. The one that had sparked this entire mess. Jude and a stunning model in a luxury campaign, his arm casually slung over her waist, their smiles too bright, too intimate. When you’d seen the ad, it had stung, but what has stung more was the behind the cameras videos. They had chemistry, and she was just as extroverted as him.

It hadn’t helped that when you’d brought it up to Jude, he brushed it off, rolling his eyes and calling you “dramatic” for making a big deal out of nothing. He’d practically laughed it off, leaving you feeling unheard and dismissed. That was the worst part: not just the jealousy, but the way he’d treated it as if it was meaningless.

“Can you not just sit there like I don’t exist?” Jude’s voice broke the silence, low but tight with irritation. “We’re going to this dinner. Can we just act like adults?”

You turned to him, biting your tongue to stop yourself from saying the first sharp thing that came to mind. You’d been here before, and you were too tired of the fighting to start again.

“Jude, you know why we are in this situation,” you said quietly. “I just wanted you to take me seriously and acknowledge my feelings.”

“Acknowledge?” he said, a hint of disbelief in his voice. “All I’ve done this whole week is listen to you accuse me of something I didn’t do. It’s a campaign. That’s it. Nothing more.” He resisted the urge to say, "End of discussion," and focused on the road ahead instead.

“But you didn’t make me feel like it was nothing, Jude. You made me feel like… like I’m stupid for even bringing it up. You think I don’t know that it’s part of your job?” Your voice quivered, and you hated that you sounded so emotional.

Jude’s face softened for a moment, but then he hardened his expression again, as if not wanting to give in. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I thought you knew me better than that, honestly.”

There it was—another subtle jab. The conversation felt like a seesaw, tipping between blame and defense, never quite reaching a point of understanding. You crossed your arms, pressing yourself against the passenger door, feeling miles away from him, though he was just a few feet to your left.

“I just wanted to feel like you cared that I was upset. That’s all. Not for you to laugh it off like it was something stupid.”

He clenched his jaw, as if forcing himself not to retort. His hands tightened on the wheel again. “Look, I get it now. You don’t trust me, and that’s fine. I’ll do my job, you can stay mad at me, and we’ll just keep doing this every week.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, and it hurt. “This is getting ridiculous...”

You two were tired of fighting, but something in you, something sharp and bruised, couldn’t let go of the last few days’ arguments. It wasn’t enough for him to be hurt. You wanted him to understand.

“Fine,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady but feeling anger prickle under your skin. “If it’s so ridiculous, then maybe I’ll make sure you get a taste of what that feels like. You’ll feel as ‘ridiculous’ as you’ve made me feel this week. We’ll see if it’s still a joke then.”

Jude’s head whipped toward you, a mix of shock and anger flashing across his face. “What? Are you serious right now?” His voice was tense, a low warning.

You felt a pang of guilt, but you held his gaze. “I just don’t think you’d understand it any other way.”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, shaking his head. He stared back at the road, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. The quiet between you was no longer uncomfortable but electric, charged with a bitterness that hadn’t been there before.

The car finally pulled up to the restaurant where you were supposed to meet your friends. The weight of what you’d just said hanging heavily between you. Jude cut the engine and just sat there, staring straight ahead, as if he didn’t trust himself to speak. You didn´t move either, not knowing what was he going to do. After a beat, he climbed out, moving around to your door without a word. When he opened it, he didn’t look at you, just held the door and waited for you to step out.

You could see the tension in his posture, his usual warmth and confidence replaced by a coldness that made your heart ache. But you were both too proud, too angry, to say anything.

As you neared the entrance, Jude’s hand shot out, gripping your waist with a firm possessiveness. The touch wasn’t gentle or affectionate as usual; it was more of a declaration. Despite the anger simmering between you, he wasn’t about to let you carry out your threat to make him jealous. You tensed at his touch, your own anger rising as you felt him draw you in as if he could control you with a single motion.

Without thinking, you shrugged him off, shoving him away just enough to make your point. Jude halted, cursing under his breath, as he fought to keep his temper in check. The sharp click of the car lock sounded behind you as he pocketed the key, jaw clenched, but his eyes held yours for a moment. You both understood each other’s challenge, an unspoken line drawn that neither of you wanted to cross but couldn’t seem to avoid.

With your heads held high and expressions perfectly composed, you stepped into the restaurant, slipping on your masks of calm as you approached your friends. Your forced smiles and quiet greetings betrayed none of the tension between you, and you fell into the comfortable rhythm of small talk.

Back at the table, the spark of defiance inside you had turned into a full flame. Watching Jude as he laughed and charmed his way through conversations, acting as if your argument had never occurred, only fueled that fire. He didn´t get to act as if nothing happened. His face was relaxed, his posture easy—but you knew him well enough to sense the barely hidden tension in his movements, the occasional dart of his eyes toward you, checking, warning.

Fine, you thought. If he wanted to pretend everything was fine, you'd go along with it. In fact, you’d be the most composed person at the table. But where was the fun in that?

You turned your attention to the friend sitting beside you, leaning closer with an easy smile as you laughed at his stories. Your hand brushed against his as you reached for your drink, letting it linger just a second longer than usual. The warmth of his arm pressed lightly against yours as you angled your body toward him, giving him your full attention. Jude was watching, and you knew he was watching. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his mouth tighten, his easygoing demeanor slipping just a bit. His brows furrowed, and whatever his friend beside him was saying no longer seemed that interesting.

Good.

As the evening wore on, you let your laughter come a little too easily, smiling at your friend’s jokes, resting your hand briefly on his shoulder as you leaned in, your face just inches from his. Jude’s gaze was practically drilling into you, a dark intensity that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, thrilling and defiant all at once.

You were loving it.

His hand came to rest on the table, fingers drumming an agitated beat, his knuckles white. At one point, he leaned forward to reach for his drink, and the subtle brush of his shoulder against yours sent a shiver down your spine. You caught his eyes, holding his gaze in challenge.

“You okay, baby?” you asked with a smile—the prettiest smile you could offer, eyes shining with a hint of mischief.

In response, his hand drifted under the table, finding your thigh and gripping it firmly. The heat of his palm burned through the silky fabric of your black dress, his fingers possessive, unapologetic. You swallowed, trying to focus on the conversation in front of you, but the pressure of his hand sent your pulse racing, a blend of anger and something far more dangerous surging through you.

Ignoring his grip, you shifted slightly and crossed your leg, pulling away just enough to let his hand slip, but not before his fingers tightened in a quick, heated squeeze. He didn’t let go; instead, he moved his hand further up, his fingers now grazing your upper thigh, daring you to push him away. You bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of reacting. Instead, you leaned even closer to your friend, laughing softly as you let your hair fall forward, just brushing Jude’s arm in the process.

You could feel the heat of Jude’s glare on your skin, the simmering anger in every tense line of his body. You risked a quick glance his way, only to find him staring back at you with a look so intense, so darkly possessive, it was almost predatory. You'd seen this look before, but only when you had pushed him too far, ignited something in him he couldn’t control. It was a fire you both knew too well, one you had stirred with every challenge, every teasing word. And now, that fire was about to consume everything.

“Come on, keep pushing me, love.” He muttered sarcastically, each word perfectly pronounced, making sure you heard him loud and clear.

He lifted his glass, fingers curling possessively around the stem, and took a slow, deliberate sip, never once breaking his intense eye contact. As he set it down, his gaze trailed down to your lips, full and inviting, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Then, his eyes moved lower, lingering on the soft curve of your breasts, which you had purposefully exposed just enough to rile him up when he wasn’t looking. His stare lingered there, hungry, possessive, making your stomach tighten with a mix of anticipation and anger.

No. No. He didn't get to be in control. This time, you were the one leading. Why did he manage to make you so nervous with just a few touches and his confident smirk? It wasn't fair.

His hand drifted higher on your thigh, and you fought to keep your breath steady. The weight of his touch sent a rush of heat through you, but you refused to look his way, keeping your attention on the friend beside you. Due to all the bickering and pointless arguments, it had been far too long since you’d been close to each other. Now, his touch sent a butterflies to your stomach, its effect magnified—three times more intense than before. Jude’s fingers tensed, his grip growing firmer, sending a clear message, a silent warning. But you leaned in again, touching your friend as you laughed, your fingers trailing along his, knowing exactly how it looked.

Jude’s jaw clenched, his leg brushing firmly against yours under the table, his knee pressing against you with an undeniable possessiveness. His hand squeezed your thigh, almost painfully, and you knew he was at his limit.

So, you laughed again, but this time harder at your friend’s joke.

“Something funny?” Jude muttered in a low voice, his words quiet enough that only you could hear, laced with irritation and a hint of warning.

You turned to him, your expression innocent, even sweet. “He’s just hilarious,” you said with a slight, shy and cute smile, raising your glass and meeting his eyes in a silent challenge.

His gaze darkened further, his fingers moving in a slow, heated drag along the inside of your thigh, and for a brief second, you fought to keep your composure, refusing to let him see how much he was getting to you. His touch was a slow burn, each inch of contact sending a shiver through you that you tried to ignore.

Jude’s hand dropped back to the table, and for a moment, you thought he might finally let it go. But when you laughed again and casually complimented your friend with a teasing remark—something along the lines of, “You always look so good, I do not understand why are you still single,”— Jude’s expression darkened, his breath hitching slightly. He choked on his drink, fingers gripping the glass so tightly you half-expected it to shatter. You could practically feel the heat radiating from him, his control slipping just a little more with every word.

You pressed your lips together, trying to stifle a laugh. He set his glass down hard, his voice a rough whisper. “May I remind you that you are not the one who’s single?” he asked, his eyes flashing with a dangerous glint.

You raised a brow, unfazed, and turned back to your friend. “Am I pushing it?” you murmured, more to yourself than to him, a sly smile playing on your lips. But just as you were about to rest your hand on your friend’s arm for the fifteenth time that night, you felt Jude’s hand slip over yours—this time grasping your wrist, his fingers rough and insistent, stopping you before you could touch another man.

“Do not, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice like steel, laced with something electric that sent a thrill up your spine.

Without a word, you twisted your hand free and crossed your legs again, your knee brushing his leg as you did. His fingers found your wrist again, pulling you closer this time, his lips near your ear as he muttered, “You think this is a game?”

The heat of his breath against your skin made your heart race, and you felt your pulse quicken as he held your gaze, daring you to keep this up. His fingers lingered on your wrist, and for a second, you wondered if he might actually kiss you right there, just to make his point, in front of everyone, as if he didn’t care who was watching.

God you wanted that. Like, a lot.

At last, as the evening wound down and you both stood to say goodbye, Jude didn’t let you slip away. His hand slid possessively around your waist, holding you close as you say goodbye to the group, his grip firm, almost punishing. Once outside, he pulled you aside, finally away from the prying eyes of your friends.

Without a word, Jude pushed you gently against the side of the car, his eyes blazing with frustration, anger, and something else you couldn’t quite name. He stepped in close, his hands framing your waist, pressing you against the cool metal. His breath brushed against your neck, his voice a low, dangerous murmur.

“You think this was funny?” he asked, his fingers pressing into your hips, his gaze intense, unyielding.

You lifted your chin, holding his stare. “No,” you whispered, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “I thought it was fair.”

Jude’s eyes darkened, and his grip tightened, his hands possessive, nearly desperate, as he pulled you even closer. The air between you was charged, tense, and thick with unspoken words. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart against you, the warmth of his hands sending shivers through you.

“You’re being…,” you started, trying to keep a teasing smile in check, though your amusement slipped through. His anger was palpable; he glared at you with narrowed eyes, locking onto you with an intensity that was thrilling, even a little dangerous.

“Mmm, what was it?” you asked, pretending to struggle to remember the exact word that had lit the fuse in this absurd, yet undeniably thrilling standoff. You paused for effect, watching the way his jaw tightened. “Oh, right—dramatic.”

You knew that would push him right over the edge, and sure enough, he leaned in, his expression hardening as his gaze burned right into yours. You could almost feel the warmth of his breath, the faint scent of his cologne enveloping you, as if he were drawing you into his orbit. He hadn’t even said a word yet, but somehow, he had you on edge, just as he always did, effortlessly.

“But you know,” you added with a smirk, leaning up on tiptoe to press a playful kiss on his heated cheek, “I think it suits you.”

Then, with all the nonchalance you could muster, you turned on your heel, heading for the passenger seat as though nothing had happened. For a moment, he didn’t move; you could practically feel his stare following you. But then, before you could even open the door, he grabbed your arm, pulling you back to him, right back into that same charged position, his grip firm but unmistakably possessive. And despite yourself, you couldn’t help but let a thrill run down your spine.

“You have no idea what you just started,” he murmured, his voice thick with a dangerous promise, his lips hovering just inches from yours.

And as you looked up at him, feeling the heat, the thrill, and the tension swirl between you, you realized you didn’t regret a single thing.

Jude’s smirk deepened as he held you there, his grip possessive and firm, his gaze dark with intent. You could feel every inch of space crackling with tension, every breath laced with challenge and defiance. He wasn't letting you go, not after what you'd just put him through. And part of you didn't want him to.

“You think this is a joke,” he muttered smirking, his voice low and edged with a dangerous sort of amusement. His fingers traced along your arm, each touch purposeful, as if to prove just how much control he still held. You raised your chin, meeting his gaze with equal defiance, a small smile on your lips.

“I think it is a taste of your own medicine,” you replied, your voice soft but unyielding. He leaned in, his lips so close they brushed against yours as he spoke, sending a shiver straight through you. He couldn’t resist the urge to kiss you.

“You’re going to regret this,” he murmured, his words a promise as his thumb skimmed along your jaw, tipping your face up to meet his.

[bam-stroker]

I got possessed by the opportunity for silly in @keferon's Texaid mech au and ended up with a slice of serious as well. Oh well, Bone Apple Teeth! - - - - -

Every muscle and joint in First Aid’s body aches. Flopped over the official break room lunch table, his face has been buried in his arms for at least twenty minutes. He’d taken one tired bite from a sad little sandwich at the start of his break, and now it’s just wilting beside him before he officially decides to just trash it. To be honest, he can’t find the energy to actually care. After months of cleaning up the messes left behind by that thing, lunch has become a “me time” escape for him as opposed to an actual meal. 

Well, to an extent. It can only be so much of a solo time with the cross over of employee lunch breaks. 

“You know, it’s not good to skip a meal when you work as hard as you do.” 

The sentiment is entirely sincere. Even face down, he can see the exact sad little face across from him. Those familiar blue eyes always twinkling with feeling. First Aid only grunts in acknowledgement. Why does Tailgate always have to be so… caring? He thinks to himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the memory of harsh laughter echoes at his thought. But it’s mechanical. As if that… machine is now a part of him. Haunting him. Or maybe it’s like a disease? But he can’t think of any illness where something like that can listen and watch to see the world through his eyes. Haunting it is then.

Whatever. He’ll take more time to care about that when he’s able to lift his head back up. Below his breath First Aid mutters, “I bet you like that, huh? Wearing me out. Must be so funny.” 

The voice in his head has nothing to say. 

First Aid huffs. Jerk.

Tailgate on the other hand, continues to pry. “So… Were you talking to him just then?”

Great. He’s saying shit out loud. Stellar! Amazing! This is going to do great things for his crumbling people skills. First Aid musters up that one sandwich bite’s worth of energy left in him to sit up. The popping of his joints should be concerning, but on the priorities list—stepping into a death trap daily as a new career—it’s hardly the top of it. 

“Look, Tailgate, I’m sorry. Yeah… I was talking to—” he starts to reply, and then cocks his head in confusion. “Wait, did you just say ‘him’?”

And there goes the old Tailgate big wet eyes shine. He nods his round little pale face, the short crop of his bleached white hair bouncing with the movement. “Well, yeah! Vortex is the one haunting it, right?” 

First Aid can’t help but sigh, slumping back into the uncomfortable break room chair. “Come on,” he replies. “Don’t tell me you’re another ghost believer?” 

He tries to keep the shake out of his voice. He tries to keep up the act, because if he admits it… if he admits it then it all becomes real.

Tailgate nods, giving a thoughtful hum as he eyes the sandwich waiting patiently to be eaten. “There’s a lot of stuff I don’t understand. But, it feels easier to talk about it like that,” he says. Looking back up to lock eyes with First Aid, there’s a weight behind his gaze. “You’re not the only one cleaning up the messes around here. So let me be a little superstitious to help me get through the job.”

With a heavy sigh, First Aid breaks the eye contact. It’s too much. 

He crosses his arms, staving off a shiver from the memory of the first time he ever cleaned up the mech. Of the look on Tailgate’s face, so scared, when he’d handed him the remnants. 

The janitor and the wannabe medic. What a sad sorry pair.

All First Aid can offer is a nod of his head in acknowledgement, before he changes the subject. “So yeah, I’ve been talking to…him. It’s about all I can do, since he’s the one, ugh, actually driving.” 

Tailgate gasps loudly, as he leans forward. “It’s like reverse Ratatouille!”

“What??” 

“He’s the rat, and you’re the chef.” Tailgate continues, an entirely too excited smile on his face. 

“No!”

“Yes!!” 

First Aid groans, rubbing his palms against his eyes. “Tailgate. Please. How is this anything like ratatouille?” He pleads.

Between the cracks of his fingers, he watches Tailgate gleefully lay out his vision. “Everybody thinks it’s you—but it’s really him driving. So you’re like the chef, but instead of being on the outside, you’re on the inside—that’s why it’s reverse—because the rat is in the hat driving the guy like some kind of chef mech suit in the movie. But the ghost mech is driving you. So you’re reverse ratatouille!”

There are no words. There’s absolutely nothing he can say in response to the nightmare of his new life being summed up as accurately as “reverse ratatouille”. 

With a weary sigh, First Aid leans forward on the table, staring down as if some other answer to what his life has become will appear like a magic eight ball in the scratched up countertop. 

No such luck. It’s the same table he’s looked at day after day. 

“Reverse Ratatouille…” First Aid murmurs. A haunted look in his eyes.

“Reverse Ratatouille.” Tailgate chimes back chipperly.

Far off in the haunted abyss of his mind, First Aid hears the crystal clear laughter of the mech at the revelation. 

Reverse Ratatouille.

[ye4gerz]

‧˚⭒ pairing: obsessive!mark x afab!reader 18+ MDNI ‧˚⭒ genre: smut! angst! ‧˚⭒ word count: 1k (sorry this one is longer than pt1😭) ‧˚⭒ cw: stalker / obsessive tendencies, m!masterbation, exhibitionist mark(once again lol), swearing, mark wants u sooo bad but you’re dating his best friend haechan, filming w/o the other party knowing.

» read part one here.

roommate mark who can’t help his secret crush on you. were you his best friend’s partner? yes. did that stop his feelings? absolutely not. he shared his space with donghyuck, aka your boyfriend, which only made things more complicated. there were certain times where mark caught himself staring at you a little too long, or perhaps his laugh lingered a bit too much after one of your jokes. he noticed—oh, he definitely noticed—the strange looks donghyuck would give him here and there. mark was fully aware of how it all looked, but he always tried his best to suppress it, burying his feelings deep where they couldn’t cause trouble.

what he didn’t expect, though, was to hear you in the room next to his, moaning his name.

interested and in pure shock, he froze. he hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on you and hyuck’s intimate moment, but it had been so long since he’d last heard you like this, so needy and desperate. curiosity got the better of him, and he just wanted a better sense of what was happening—a clearer view, a clearer sound. he just wasn’t expecting to hear his name fall from your lips— not like this.

“mark…” he heard you moan, along with the silence that came after.

you said his name-not donghyuck's, but his. mark freezes, questioning if he heard you correctly, but the growing hardness between his legs confirms it. his breath hitches, his pulse quickening as his mind races. the silence from donghyuck's end only fuels his excitement, leaving mark to wonder what hyuck might do next-or if he'll do anything at all.

mark's thoughts spiral, dark and dangerous. he debates for a fleeting, reckless moment whether he should enter the room himself, finish what you started. the idea sends a shiver down his spine. he presses himself against the door, his head tipping forward as his hands brace against the frame. part of him just wants to hear you better, to catch every gasp and whisper, but the pressure offers him relief too.

his name. your voice. it echoes in his mind, over and over, unraveling him with every second, unaware of the true context behind it.

mark had his days where he would sneak off into hyuck’s room when no one was around. he’d find something of yours—a scarf, a stray hair tie, or even just a forgotten notebook—and hold it in awe, his fingers brushing over it like it was something sacred. sometimes, he’d take it back to his room, keeping it tucked away for later, when his thoughts would spiral, and his imagination would get the better of him. it was wrong, and he knew it, but he couldn’t help himself. you were intoxicating, even when you weren’t there.

like that pair of panties you thought you lost during laundry? they weren’t lost—they were left in hyuck’s room, right there on his floor. the same floor mark found himself staring at, biting his lip, questioning his next move. at the time, no one was home. no one.

so he grabbed your underwear from the floor and locked himself in his room. he spent the entire night with it wrapped around his cock as he got off to your scent.

only you could drive him this mad, and only he knew the dirty things he’d dreamt of doing to you. thoughts he had no right to entertain, yet they crept in during the quiet moments—when the apartment was still, and your laughter echoed faintly in his memory. you were off-limits, unattainable, but that didn’t stop his mind from wandering, didn’t stop the way his heart raced whenever you so much as glanced his way.

now he can’t help himself as he hears donghyuck scolding you while his pace fastens. marks cock already sprung out and his bare hand jerking himself off to the same pace as your boyfriend’s thrusts.

“is this what you want? you want mark to hear how good i fuck you? who makes you feel this good, baby? hm?” haechan mutters, the sound of wet skin echoing through the door.

“y-yes… fuck- hyuckie….” you forget about mark’s presence for a second as your boyfriend is about to help you reach your orgasm. you couldn’t care less if mark heard you right now.

“wait for me baby, please,” mark groans, his wrists readjusting as he starts thrusting himself into his hand deeper.

i wish this was your pretty pussy taking my cock instead, baby, he thought to himself.

“i’m close hyuckie!” you warn.

mark fastens his pace once more, deliberately giving attention to his tip. he had it all figured out in his imagination. he was the reason for all your moans. you couldn’t help yourself but ride him stupid. your hands roaming all over his body, his chest, tugging at his hair. these thoughts were all too much for him to bare.

and just like that, after hearing all of your incoherent noises, you finally release, mark soon following after. sweat dripping off from his forehead, he cums into his hand, hard. he uses his other hand to ride out his high, still in his own world of you and him.

“y/n…” he lets out a weakened sigh, his head falling back nearly hitting the door against him.

he thought he would end it here. he’d rush to pull his pants back around his waist and disappear into his room, pretending none of this ever happened—until he heard donghyuck go at you again.

“you’re going to fucking take it like a good girl, okay? cmon baby, give me one more,” he hears your boyfriend guiding you, trying to keep you for another.

mark's knees almost gave out from the realization. your whimpers and pleas spilled through the thin walls, sounding like forbidden music to his ears. he's too sensitive to touch himself again, every nerve in his body overstimulated, yet he's terrified he'll miss out on this fleeting, intoxicating moment. so, he does the only thing he can think of-he presses himself closer to the wall, his breath hitching as he tries to catch every sound, every whisper of you that slips through.

mark confirmed everything tonight—he really is infatuated with you. there’s no denying it, not after hearing his name fall from your lips, not after the way his heart nearly stopped at the sound. every carefully buried feeling, every glance he tried to hide, every suppressed thought—all of it surged to the surface in a rush he couldn’t control.

that night continues with mark's phone pressed against your boyfriend's door, recording every sound that escapes. after what feels like hours, he loses count of how many times hyuck pulls those broken cries and moans from you. mark smiles softly to himself, his mind spinning with the idea of being one step closer to finally joining you two. the thought shouldn't comfort him-it shouldn't excite him-but it does, and he doesn't even try to stop it anymore.

[fairlyang]

thinking about reader leaving lipstick marks on needy!miguel. inspo

after the sloppiest make out session miguel has had in his life, it was to no surprise he was hard as a rock and his boxers were leaking with his precum. you stripped him of all his clothes and you were only left in your undergarments. you had applied red lipstick and didn’t hesitate to leave kisses on every crevice you wanted.

you had just kissed a circle around his pelvic area, leaving behind bright red lip stains while his cock twitched in anticipation. he didn’t even know if you were going to do something just watched as you teased him with no remorse.

your eyes locked deeply into his as you kissed down his thigh and went to the other one. he bit his lip, fighting back the urge to beg for you to do something. he had to change to a new leaf. maybe to prove to himself that your effect on him isn’t that strong.

you took notice of it and couldn’t have that. you needed to hear his sweet pleads, you had grown fond of them. always music to your ears.

you grabbed the red lipstick and applied yet another layer, quickly closing it then putting it aside. still somewhat looking at him you went lower, leaving a small kiss above his balls. he twitched yet again, biting his lip a little harder.

you slowly kissed up along his length, gentle kisses so the lipstick would stay on longer. you got right to the middle and moved your head to the right and kissed down the side as his thighs began to shake. you did the same to the left side then went back to the middle and kissing up. his cheeks were growing warmer by the second and sweat was forming on his forehead.

you looked so good down there. treating him oh so nicely but also being a tease. only because you knew him so well.

so much so that when you made it closer to the tip you knew he was close to breaking. with a quick movement you grab his shaft, leaving a big kiss right on his tip and just like magic, he let out a loud moan.

you smiled up at him and licked off his precum, before slapping the tip onto your tongue. he gasped and felt goosebumps surge through his body. you pulled away and got your face closer to his cock, pressing it against your cheek then pulling away to look at your masterpiece.

“look so pretty like this baby.” you murmur, admiring how the bright red looks on his tanned skin. like a true piece of art.

he let out a small moan and you looked up at him, “don’t ya think so?”

he quickly nods and you slowly start to stroke him, eyes on him to see his reaction. his lips parted, letting out deep breaths while you worked your hand on him, careful to not smudge the lip stains too much.

you went a little faster and he let out more moans, his hips thrusting forward making you chuckle, “mmm you like this huh baby?”

he gulped and nodded once again, letting out a sigh as you jerked him off. you increased the pace to hear him moan again, once he did, you slowed down again, “i want to hear you.”

he whined and was going to be stubborn but knew you’d be capable of completely stopping so he spoke up, “y-yes- yes i like it-“

“thatta boy..” you mumble and go even faster than before without any warning.

he groaned and watched you with fluttering eyes, barely able to let out a coherent sentence, “f-fuck- feels- god… feels s-so good-“

“i know baby, i know. gonna cum for me? give me another load?” you murmur and he eagerly nods, letting out strings of pretty moans.

an idea popped into your head, quite a cruel one but you knew he’d be able to handle it. you continued stroking him fast, whispering dirty things that had him twitching in your hand and had him getting closer to his release.

“oh fuck! baby i’m gonna-“ he moans out and you watch how his body contorts and shakes above you.

you let go of him at the very last millisecond and open your mouth wide as he whimpers and his cum spurts out. some landed on your mouth making you grin while he pouted as the last of his load landed on your chest.

“c’mon baby, don’t be mad. you did so good for me.” you cooed and stood up, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek making him look at you.

he looked at you, mad at himself for not standing his ground and folding like a chair so easily. but that look in your eyes made him smile, maybe it’s not so bad after all.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 4 part 2

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3])

THE LITTLE FLOWER POPPIN. THE M'LADY

seems like agatha is having An Emotion

but look! look! rio is once again being super special extra on purpose!! because if she just strolled in agatha would be overwhelmed and run away again. so what does rio do??? she corners her with a grand zombie entrance!!! the more over the top she acts, the more agatha is in her element and comfortable interacting. and in this case, angry is a better start than sad. all part of rio's Brilliant 66-Steps-Plan To Win Her Wife Back™ (or was it 666?)

her face omg

oooh are you mad??? are you big mad at little ol' me???????

agatha is like nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope

imagine being aubrey plaza and being born so effortlessly cool. she's cool even when she's awkward dear lord

jen and alice: kinda stunned by both her hotness and her weirdness

lilia: VADE RETRO SATAN (lilia's spider senses are already tingling)

will I ever be over the fact that Death is just one particularly powerful green witch?? that she's a gentle if odd girl who grows plants and flowers and mushrooms and is called the River of Life??? that she is the embodiment of life in all her forms? that decay and regrowth are all part of the same natural cycle? that the hardest and most inexplicable thing a living being can go through is also the most reassuringly organic and normal???

have I already said "i love you patti lupone" today?

we're off to see the wizarrrrd. her cute peter pan outfit!

what do we think, billy? does she want to talk about it, or does she have the emotional maturity of a baby ostrich?

same girls, same

whoa there ladies, calm down. I'm already taken

lilia is also having an Emotion. it must be pretty weird to realize that your mortal foe is this hot

alice going NOPE when she sees her mom's house. the leaves are red alice, honey. it's your turn.

(does the back of rio's jacket look like a ribcage?)

it's going to be fine baby. your friends are all here. you can do this. deep breaths.

fire moon! fire moon! fire moon! oh this is my favorite trial

*grabs the mike* WOULD

from right to left: would, would, would, would, would, oh hi joe

rio: BITCH I AM?!?!?!?!?!?!? (everyone say thank you costume department)

the Road isn't subtle, BILLY.

sure, there wasn't enough sexual tension already, let's add side boobs, shall we? and rio being like hey agatha, hey agatha, hey. guess what. I'm here again agatha. you're not gonna get rid of me this time agatha.

I keep thinking that every reflection agatha comes across is a "te veo". and even when rio isn't there she is watching from mirrors and from puddles.

OH MY GAWD AGATHA how can you expect me to cope when you look around to make sure nobody is watching and then you lean in so so so sclose and then you say no with such a deep soulful voice and so much intimacy and such quiet anger and not one lil hint of clownery. I AM ABOUT TO GO FERAL

agatha around rio is like, mind screaming in anguish and body screaming in horny. lethal combination

lilia who's been trying and failing for centuries and centuries to come to terms with the violence human beings inflict on whoever is different

if there is one thing a broadway pro is trained to do is making people cry while wearing increasingly stupid wigs

JEN SEEING MASKS BECAUSE SHE DOESN'T KNOW WHO HIDES BEHIND THE MONSTER THAT BOUND HER

fletwood mac?!?!!?!?!?!?!? in this economy?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? I cannot handle much more of this, my emotions are raw and fragile and tender as it is already!!!!!!!!

oh, alice.

well this episode is making me feel like agatha: sad and horny. weird vibe but okay.

go to episode 4 part 3