#shake yo dreads

[meespressso]

how’s my nonchalant dread head doing??

yuhhhhh

[1000-year-old-virgin]

Sexyy Red - Shake Yo Dreads

[runningoneir]

We love a Dreadhead😍🤤

[mendingmusic]

DJ Lycox - SHAKE YO DREADS RMX

[freshthoughts2020]

It’s Sexyy!!

By

Jaevonn Harris

[almostthebaddie]

A WISE WOMAN ONCE SAID.

SHAKE YO DREADS SHAKE YO DREADS SHAKE YO DREAD

[getmybuzzup]

Sexyy Red Lets Her Rage Out on "Shake Yo Dreads" - Sexyy Red Keeps Her Foot on the Gas, Shares New Single, "Shake Yo Dreads" STREAM HERE Sexyy Red continues her run as one of 2023's breakout stars, sharing her new rage-ready single, "Shake Yo Dreads." The single continues a busy month for the young artist, as she earned her first-ever #1 Billboard Hit following headline-making appearances on the New York Jets' sideline during ESPN's Monday Night Football, the MTV VMAs, and most recently, at Penn State's whiteout game this weekend. https://wp.me/p1PuJR-5AQe Please Reblog!

[citrlet]

i'm sorry i'm being annoying about my trip but look at the view from my room in d.c.

[confessxcheese4tcc]

OH YES DYLAN 🥵💦👅 SHAKE YO DREADS 😝

CONFESSION #1341

[rafey-baby]

trinket

rafe thinks his maid is just the sweetest little thing...  

prince!rafe x maid!reader 

c/w: rafe being a menace, him flirting (?) w her, some royal cameron family angst ig, brief descriptions of him having sex w another woman, 18+ mdni!

wc: 2.3k

also this is by no means historically accurate which is why i’m not gonna name any specific era for this xx

moodboard & introduction

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

Every mid-December, the palace comes alive in an entirely novel way with the bustling preparations for the annual winter ball that the king and queen host to celebrate ‘another wonderful year’.

The once quiet and calm castle transforms into something colorful and vivid with the mouthwatering smell of cakes and pastries cooking in the ovens of the royal kitchen, along with maids and other servants whirling around the long hallways as they place intricate decorations and shiny ribbons all over the broad staircases and windows. 

She’s grateful she doesn’t have to partake in the hustle and bustle all that much since her primary duties include taking care of the prince and ensuring he has everything and anything he could possibly need.  

Although right now, she sort of wishes she could be stringing up polished ornaments or garnishing elegant baked goods because apparently, being the prince’s personal maid sometimes means sitting quietly in his bedchambers (as per his request to keep him company while he’s reading) with her own thoughts and the sounds outside the door her only source of entertainment.  

Therefore, she’s elated when he suddenly turns to face her in his armchair— flitting his eyes over to her from the hefty book that seems to have made him exasperated rather than enthralled.  

“Will you join me for a walk? All this noise is makin’ m’head hurt.”

There’s enthusiasm in the nod of her head; a yearning to see the fresh layer of snow covering the trees and painting the entire kingdom with its powdery whiteness— the aftermath of last night’s blizzard. She doesn’t think there’s anything more beautiful than the crystalline snowfall glittering under the touch of the afternoon sun— or maybe a certain pair of aquamarine eyes, but that’s beside the point.  

“That would be my pleasure, Your Highness,” she easily agrees. 

“How many times do I have to tell you how much I despise that name? There’s no need to use it when s’just me,” he scolds her before he’s straightening up and stretching out his arms over his head. 

“My apologies, it’s a habit,” she rises to her feet as well; trying her hardest not to let her eyes linger on the sliver of his stomach peeking out from underneath the silky fabric of his shirt. 

“I don’t want your apologies, want you to use my name,” he says before stepping closer— standing tall before her and forcing her to blink up at him in order to meet his eyes. “Go on, sweetheart, say it,” he practically orders; eager eyes fixed on her face.  

She hesitates under the sudden attention. He’s always seemed so fascinated by her and she doesn’t know why.  

“Um…Rafe.”  

He lets out a hum of approval. “That’s good. You ready to leave?” 

“Y— yes, uh, Rafe.”  

“Good job. Not so difficult, is it?” he coos at her almost mockingly— fingertips grazing the skin of her cheek when he tucks a loose tendril of hair back behind her ear. 

She merely shakes her head— a warmth dusting over the apples of her cheeks when his touch lingers on the side of her face afterwards. And for a moment, she thinks she’s going to drown in the lagoons of his eyes, but then he clears his throat and offers the palm of his hand for her to take.  

And it’s rather unusual for someone of his status to do; a prince who’s bound to wear the crown one day holding his maid’s hand isn’t exactly something that’s written in any book regarding the royal etiquette. However, he’s never been one to allow for dreadful rules and traditions to dictate his behavior, especially not towards her.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -  

“Are you looking forward to the winter ball?” she asks when they stop by the stables to check up on his horse, Jupiter.  

“You know I hate dancin’,” he mutters out as he watches its teeth grind on the carrot he brought with him.  

She smiles because she does know, before letting out a wistful sigh. “I wish I could attend.”

“You do? Why?” he’s perplexed by her enthusiasm towards something he considers as more tedious than anything— having to plaster on a smile for an entire night and socialize with people he doesn’t necessarily care for in order to humor his father never being something he’s particularly taken delight in.  

Especially when Sarah is going to be the one receiving all of their father’s attention anyway. Not that he cares (he does) but he would appreciate it, if for once in his life, his old man would show him even an ounce of the care he seems to so easily shower his sisters in.  

“Well, I’d love to wear a ball gown, but mostly for the food,” her feather-light voice brings him back to the moment.  

“I’ll make sure to bring you a plate ‘n you can eat it in my room then, yeah?” he promises as he runs his fingers through Jupiter’s black main.  

“You would do that?”  

“If you promise not to tell the other maids or they’re gonna accuse you of gettin’ special treatment,” his tone is playful. 

“They already do that,” she points out. “They think we spend too much time together.” 

“And what do you think?” he asks, genuinely curious. 

“I don’t mind. I quite enjoy your company,” she answers truthfully. After all, she has grown quite fond of Rafe throughout the years. Sometimes she just wishes he wasn’t so overwhelming, in every sense of the word. 

“Yeah?” a smirk pulls at the side of his mouth, seemingly pleased with her answer. 

She’s certain he’s well aware of the effect he has on her— the effect he has on everyone. And she thinks that he enjoys it; relishes in toying with her for his own amusement simply because he can. He can practically do anything he wants since his father is oftentimes gone for long periods of time; fulfilling his duties for the kingdom and whatnot.  

And she knows Rafe doesn’t particularly mind the fact that his father is rarely home because he’s always been hard on him, much harder than on his sisters because whether he likes it or not, he’s set off to be the new king one day. And his reputation of having female guests over more often than not whenever his father is away doesn’t necessarily help with gaining his approval.

After all, rumor travels fast around the palace.  

Rafe once admitted to her that he often felt like a disappointment, and that the pressure of everyone’s expectations sometimes made him wish he was nothing more than a stableman. After all, he does get along with horses better than he ever has with his family— it’s not exactly a secret amongst the royal court.  

“Would you wanna go for a ride with me? Think Jupiter’s gettin’ bored,” he suddenly asks.  

“Oh, I would love to but I’ve never, um, ridden a horse before,” she timidly admits. 

“No? You wanna know how it feels? You could jus’ sit behind me, don’t need to do anythin’, yeah?” he coaxes her to say yes with a seemingly sincere smile; already walking Jupiter out of its stable and leaving her no choice but to follow them outside.   

“Really?” the frosty air causes a shiver to crawl up her spine when she eyes him, hesitant.  

“Mhm. Promise nothing’s gonna happen, I’ll take care of you. ‘N I know you’ll like it, s’very freeing,” he assures her as he’s already saddling up the horse, seemingly aware that she could never refuse him of anything.  

“Okay...if you insist,” she tentatively agrees with a nod that he rewards with a beaming grin; the icy snowflakes sticking to his hair making him look like something straight out of a fairy tale.  

Then, he’s lifting her up to straddle the entirely too big of an animal that sort of still scares her— strong hands gripping onto her hips and leaving her momentarily starstruck at how effortlessly he does it; as if she weighs nothing more than the carrot Jupiter was just chewing on.  

He follows soon after, settling down in front of her with ease before looking at her over his shoulder. “Need you to hold onto me unless you wanna fall,” he instructs, seemingly reveling in the fact that he gets to be the one teaching her something new.  

“Oh, yeah, of course,” she says, gingerly setting her hands on his waist, movements uncertain.  

“Gonna need you to hold on tighter, promise I won’t bite,” he huffs out a laugh before he’s grabbing her arms and wrapping them around his middle more firmly— forcing her to fully lean against his back when the sudden clip-clopping of Jupiter’s hooves against the snow-covered cobblestone causes her to let out a surprised shriek.   

“Good?” he asks, seemingly amused at the way she’s practically clutching onto him as the cottony snow prances around them. 

She manages out a hum, wondering if he can hear her poor heart loudly thumping in her ribcage when he decides to pick up the speed some more, as if she wasn’t already terrified.  

“Rafe! Can you slow down?” she squeaks out when Jupiter seems to only accelerate further underneath them.  

“Where’s the fun in that?” he lets out a hearty chuckle in response, apparently finding amusement in her utterly frightened state while she wonders why she let herself think for even one second that he had pure intentions.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“Y/N? Will you go look for my son? I fear he’s once again escaped his responsibilities to God knows where,” the king requests with an exasperated sigh while she’s crouching down and helping a servant clean up the sharp pieces of a shattered wine glass— the sound of laughter and dancing flourishing around them. 

And she could swear she saw Rafe conversing with a guest only a few short moments ago. However, as she looks around in an attempt to locate the missing prince, he’s nowhere to be found.  

“Right away, Your Majesty,” she’s quick to answer with a polite smile.  

“Thank you,” he nods gratefully, seemingly fed up with his son already.  

She ensures that the poor girl who accidentally cut her finger on the broken shards is not going to faint before tiptoeing up the broad flight of stairs in order to reach the higher levels of the palace— the loud music and blooming celebrations echoing around the halls. 

“Your Highness? Are you in there?” she knocks softly on the mahogany door leading to his bedroom.  

However, she isn’t granted a response. 

“Rafe?” she tries once more before pressing her ear against the wood separating her from the muffled sounds she can now hear from the other side— brows furrowing when something akin to a whimper reaches her ears.

It sounds nothing like Rafe; it has a higher pitch, something more feminine than his usual drawl. And as she stands there, contemplating whether something is wrong or if she should just leave, the volume only amplifies.

And in a moment of cloudy judgement, she finds herself pushing down on the handle.

However, she curses her curiosity the moment the door cracks open and she’s faced with the view of some woman’s naked back. Her long, beautiful hair reminds her of lady Lydia (a daughter of one of the dukes invited to the ball) with none other than the prince himself underneath her sweaty form.  

The sheets that she changed this morning are crumpled and creased around them and without the barrier of the door, she can now hear Rafe’s low grunts as well— can see how his big hands guide her movements. And they’re both panting heavily, seemingly lost in some haze— maybe the same one that forces her to stay rooted to her spot in the doorway.  

With her eyes as wide as saucers and mouth parted, she’s not entirely sure how long she stands there for. Until out of the blue, she notices Rafe’s eyes flickering over to her— a smirk tugging at his mouth when he catches her staring. 

She tries to move her legs but they won’t listen; making his lazy grin only grow in tandem with his strained groans that seem to only increase in volume as he locks his eyes with her.  

And she can’t breathe; the air clogging her lungs instead of flowing through as her dazed mind tries to get her to do something, anything to get her to leave the room but his heady gaze seems to have hypnotized her— compelled her to stay right where she is.  

All at once, a gravelly noise rumbles from his chest— his head dropping against the cushion of his fluffy pillows, seemingly reaching some sort of a peak in his search for pleasure as the woman above him begins to slow down her movements. And that’s when she’s finally able to step away; shutting the door behind her before scurrying down the stairs with bated breaths and heart pounding in her ears.

When she reaches the bottom, she accidentally stumbles into someone holding a golden serving tray— causing it to topple over to the floor with a loud clatter. 

“I’m so sorry,” she apologizes before her wobbly legs are scrambling off in an attempt to locate the nearest escape route to the garden.  

And once she’s managed to make it outdoors, she feels like she can finally breathe— the crisp December wind granting her heated skin an opportunity to cool down as she sits down on one of the wooden benches with a sigh.

[jyoongim]

THE WAY U WRITE THE OLD RED DEMON MAN IS JUST SO NEKEKDKEOWB

Might I just add onto the seemingly continuous alastor requests. I'd love to see Alastor x Reader where reader is in heat and Al finds it pathetic but takes pity on them and helps anyway bc like poor thing can't even get their own instincts in control they're obviously hopeless

warnings: 18+!!!NSFW

You thought when you died you would be rid of hormones.

Periods were a pain while living, but this is was worst.

When you were alive, your periods plagued you with mood swings, random cravings, and pain.

Now that you were dead, you didn’t experience the dreadful red flood and raging mood swings; no. Now all you felt was unbelievably horny and needy.

And you hated it.

You usually carried yourself with confidence and elegance.

You usually liked to help around the hotel and were generally friendly with everyone.

You grimaced as you woke up to feel just how drenched your panties were. I really need to stock up on new underwear you thought as you tossed the ruined panties into the hamper.

You usually spent your heats alone and could hide in a hole until you felt normal again. You usually could control yourself well enough til you had enough free time to ease the tension between your legs.

Or until you found a poor sinner.

Weeeeellll that was hard when you lived in a hotel with a ton of shit to do. You really didn’t want to hear Angel’s jabs as you dragged some unfortunate soul to endear your sex rage.

You sighed, hopefully you could get through the next few days without embarrassing yourself completely.

So far so good you thought as you went about your day doing whatever activity Charlie had you do with the group.

Every touch and scent didn’t send your cunt into a tingling frenzy; yes you had to change your panties a few times but nothing crazy.

That was until you were around Alastor.

Your body practically buzzed whenever the tall red demon was in your vicinity.

You first chalked it up to that it was because you did found him attractive and simply thought it would go away.

But your cunt begged a differ.

You squirmed a bit on the couch as Alastor took a seat beside you, clenching your thighs to ease the uncomfortable throbbing.

It didn’t help that he smelled amazing.

Alastor smelled like evergreens how y’all ever smelled Christmas pine??? That shit is delicious!!!!

And you didn’t realized you had took a deep inhale of him until he turned to you

”Is everything alright my dear?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

fuck how were you going to tell him you wanted to bury your nose into his neck and just SNIFF? 

“O-oh I’m f-fine…i-its just you smelled nice?” You wanted to facepalm.

He blinked at you before letting out a laugh “OOooh why thank you my dear” that shit eating grin widened, voice dropping a slight octave“I must smell very enticing if you’re sniffing at me” his eyes narrowed slightly.

A shiver ran through your body and you swear you were leaking through onto the couch. You wanted to die of embarrassment.

“I-I just never noticed before that’s all” You said shrugging, trying to ignore the fact that his very voice was affecting you.

Charlie had ended whatever the hell you were doing and you quickly made your way to your room, causing some confusion.

You were usually a social butterfly with the gang. You never not chat away with Angel as he told the wild shit he did on set.

“Has got to be that time of the month” Angel commented as you almost sprinted out the room. Charlie and Vaggie gave confused looks ”what?” He sighed “You know…” nope not a clue.

”She was a human remember? Every so often her pussy basically shreds itself to bits”

Charlie gasped “So she’s hurt? Shouldn’t we do something?” Angel laughed,shaking his head “Nah we can’t help. But she'll be fine. Just give her a few days and she'll be normal again”

Alastor was in the background listening, the smile on his face sharpened, you weren’t hurt or bleeding, but there was definitely something that could be done.

You snarled as your vibrator died and tossed it. You groaned as your clit continued to throb. You had thought four orgasms would have did the trick but nope you still had the irritating itch.

You didn’t own a dildo because it was pointless.

it wasn’t the real thing.

You wanted to cry. This was your first heat while you’ve been at the hotel and you didn’t just want to drag a stranger here.

You had more control than that.

At least that’s what you thought.

You had locked yourself in your room as you tore your room to bits. The walls were shredded, pillows and sheets drenched in slick and your poor toy was in pieces.

Panting, you curled in a corner and tugged at your hair, squeezing your eyes tight as tears began to pool in your eyes.

You hated this.

 You hated how it felt like you didn’t even feel like yourself. 

Hated that you couldn’t even control your own damn bodily function.

Hated how your body desperately wanted to be filled.

You would give anything to make this horrid feat of yours go away.

“I would have never thought to see you in such a state my dear”

You froze at the voice and jerked your head to the source.

Alastor.

He was standing at the entrance of your bedroom, a smirk on his face as he took in the state of your room.

”I must say, it. Is rather entertaining to see your lack of control” he said as he approached your curled form.

He crouched down, feigning a concerned look before a clawed hand seized your hair and wrenched your face til your noses were bumping against each other.

”did you think I couldn’t smell you?” He growled “You smell just like a bitch in heat”

You whimpered as his lips ghosted over yours “I-I’m sorry”

His scent was surrounding you. It was a drug. Assaulting your every nerve with each breath you took.

He smelled so good 

please

”Please” you whispered as your cunt buzzed, tingling from his clos proximity and in hopes he would have mercy on you.

Alastor sucked his teeth at you. What a pitiful thing you were…

With a deep breathe, he stood and walked over to your ruined bed and sat. You watched as he sat his mic down and removed his coat. Yanking at his tie, he unbuttoned his shirt and looked over at you with narrowed eyes “Well? Do you want to continue to ruin your furnishings or do you wish to satisfy that brazen desire of yours?”

He widened his legs and your eyes honed in on how he unbuckled his pants.

Your throat tightened and you found yourself crawling over to him, no regard that you were naked.

Kneeling between his legs, your hands soothed up his thighs as your rubbed your head against his crotch.

Alastor lifted your chin for your eyes to meet his. Your eyes were blown out and you winced as his grip tightened.

”I pity you my dear, reduced to wanton whore, but don’t fret…Ill help you through your heat” a thumb ran over your pouty lip.

Your cunt clenched around nothing at his words.

You damn near drooled as he adjusted himself to pull his cock free from its restraints.

It was big, in both length and girth. It slapped against your face, causing you to hum at the weight of it.

You nuzzled it, nose gliding along his length before softly pressing kissed along it. When you came to his mushroom tip, you didn’t hesitate to suck at it. Alastor sighed as you gave the head of his cock kitten licks.

Head clouded with desire, you slowly bobbed your head along his length, taking him whole as you gagged once you reached the hilt.

You eased him out your throat and with a sickening pop, you admired as his spit-covered cock shined. You opted to jerk him off slowly as you buried your nose in his ball, inhaling his scent.

Alastor’s hand found your hair and guided you away from his cock, bringing you to climb up his body, until your smoldering heat was rubbing against his cock as he pressed kisses to your shoulder and neck. A gasp tore from your throat as he nipped at your jaw.

”On fours my dear”

Clumsily, you scrambled to follow his instruction. You must not have been to his liking because he pressed your head til your cheek was flat to the bed, back in a deep low arch, thighs pressed to your stomach and spreaded wide with your ass and cunt exposed to the air. 

You would have blushed in embarrassment if you weren’t so turned on.

A hand glided down your back, causing you to shiver and then jolt as a harsh slap was planted on your ass, before it soothed over the burning cheek.

Alastor kneaded your ass before sliding his fingers down to your cunt.

Your slit was swollen and your clit, puffy with need. 

You were dripping.

He dipped a finger inside you, testing how wet you were.

Soppy. 

He added a second, your cunt greedily welcomed his fingers with ease, giving into resistance.

He chuckled “What a greedy cunt, sucking in my fingers like a cock”

You whined when he took his fingers out, already missing the feel of something inside you.

Alastor took his cock and rubbed it against your cunt, coating himself in your slick.

”I am going to fuck you to your little sinful heart desires and you are going to be grateful of everything I give you. You are going to take every bit of my cum until it spills from this cunt and then again and again until I have bred you so thoroughly. Do you understand slut?”

You were breathing heavily, trembling in excitement.

With a single, sharp thrust he filled your cunt, earning a soft cry from you.

”Do you understand?”he hissed through clenched teeth.

”Y-Yes A-Alastor”. you whimpered, eyes clenched shut in pleasure.

”Good girl”

He drew back and thrusted into you again

And again

And again

He had set a slow, but rough pace. Thrusting his cock deep into the soft warmth of your cunt with each drag.

Soft moans filled the air as he buried his cock inside you.

It felt so good. 

He reached depths your finger couldn’t quite reach.

And it was amazing.

”A-Ala-stor Aah! Aaah! Hah!” You pushed your hips against his, mewling loudly as he grinned his cock into you.

”Youre pathetic ” He laughed, eyes watching his cock disappeared inside you, giving you a hard thrust at his words.

”Nothing but pathetic slut who can’t control their own body”

His grip on your hips pulled you flushed against him, making you take him til his balls was nestled against your slit.

”You probably would have spreaded your legs for any poor sinner, just wanting to be fucked dumb” Your body rippled as his thrusts got harder.

Your cunt only got wetter.

He noticed as he seemed to sink even deeper into you, as if your cunt loosened to welcome him

”oh? I bet you would have liked that wouldn’t you? So out of sorts with need that you would have just anyone bred this cunt”

He growled at the squelching noises from your cunt, you shook your head in denial.

No. No you wouldn’t haven’t done something like that.

”N-no I-I wouldn’t-” You cried out as his finger ghosted over your swollen clit.

”You would have been happy to bend over and offer your cunt to anyone, as long as you had a cock fill you” Alastor continued before a cruel, deep laugh erupted from him

”But instead you sought me out. I had no intention in satisfying you, but what a gentleman would i had been if I ignored a lady in need?” You felt him lean over, hips never missing a beat as he sunk his teeth into your shoulder.

”Oooh how fortunate you are my dear”

You were suddenly flipped onto your back. Hair sprawled around you like a halo, your chest heaving as he pushed your knees to your chin. 

Your lidded eyes watching as he slide his cock between your pussy lips, bumping your clit. He grabbed your wrists, using them as leverage as he thrusted back into you, the new angle making your throw your head back with a broken cry

”FuuuuuUccckk Ah Ah AH!” His hips dug into the underside of your ass as he pounded your cunt.

Alastor hadn’t lost composure the entire time he fucked you.

He watched as you fell apart, your hips wiggling to accommodate to his harsh administrations.

Your cunt took him so good. A white, creamy ring formed at his base as he scraped against that sponges nerve inside you.

You welcomed him gratefully. Letting him wrench pleasurable sounds from your pretty lips.

Pushing your raised legs apart, he lowered his weight on you as he slammed his lips on yours, swallowing your moans. Your tongues danced as he rocked into your body.

The sounds of him ruining your cunt pushed him to fulfill your primal desire.

You felt that familiar blaze of heat take over your body as Alastor fucked short rapid thrusts into you.

Every brush of his abdomen against your clit had your cunt going haywire.

You were going to cum.

Alastor was going to make you cum.

You moaned at the thought

You were gonna cum on his cock

And he was gonna breed you

Breed your soppy cunt

and you were going to let him

”please….” You whined into his mouth

Fuck the very thought had your body buzzing.

”please what?” he purred

Your head was reeling, foggy with the need to be filled.

A hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing

“What are you begging me for slut? Hmm?” His strokes were hitting harder and deeper.

”You want me to breed your cunt? You want to me to fill you up so good that all you’ll ever think is how my cum belongs inside you? What do the little slut want?”

Yes you wanted all of it.

You wanted him to fuck you so good, you wouldn’t even think of wanting another cock from his.

You wanted him to fill your cunt to the brim and then fuck it back inside.

You wanted him to breed you like the little slut you were.

To breed you til he had his fill.

Your instincts had practically took over, fuck sanity.

”Mhmm! I want it. I want you to Ah! I want you to fill me with your cum! Please please breed me Alastor” You whined, feeling your belly clench as your orgasm hung over you, promising sweet relief.

The hand around your throat, tightened causing you to gasp as he spoke into your ear, voice deep and purring

”Youre gonna make yourself cum on my cock slut”

your hand flew to your clit to flick fast circles on the bud.

Alastor’s thrusts quickened, growls pouring from his lips

”Who’s a filthy little slut?”

”M-Me”

”Whos a pathetic slut that’s gonna take my cum?”

”Me!”

”Fucking slut gonna let be breed her dumb”

A sob tore from you as your orgasm washed over you, he fucked you as you milked him, hips angled to thrusts so deep you’re sure your cunt had molded into the shape of his cock

”hah hah aaah fuuucckk fuck fuck Al-Alastor!”

You saw white as your mouth opened in a silent scream only for him to swallow the whine in your throat.

”That’s it you pathetic slut take it. Take my cum. That’s a good girl. Let me breed this sweet cunt cher” your hips raised as he sunk into you and with a deep groan, he cummed into your spasming cunt, making sure to thrust deep enough he hit your cervix as he painted your walls white.

Whether conscious or by instinct, you gave him a ditzy smile, eyes glazed over as you slowly rubbed your clit, whimpering. Holding eye contact with him, a soft pout graced your lips

“Again”

You truly were a pathetic, needy little thing.

But don’t worry pretty Doe, Alastor’s going to make sure you

satisfied and stuffed to your heart’s content

 It was going to be very interesting for the next 36 hours…

@markster666 @alastorsfawn @senseichaos @alastoralltruist @dasimp777 @imgonnadielaughing-blog @thewinchestah @strawberrypimp666 @tpks @stygianoir @polytheatrix @prosciuttosblog @angelltheninth @peachedtv @yourdoorisunlocked @kiralaufeyson84

[roorreer]

Something something. Making Solas a liar in Veilguard actively brings back a problem they fixed working on Inquisition.

On December 20 2019 VGS posted an interview with Trick Weekes about their work on Solas. This whole sentence is a link so its large enough for mobile but also disclaimer this is before they changed their name so deadname warning.

Here's a transcription I found here which is where i took the screenshots above. Since I know not everyone has 40 minutes to listen to an online radio interview.

I however highlighted the main point since most of you are not reading the screenshots anyway but skimming through. Rant under Read-more. Also bc i try to not be too negative on people's dashs but also i wanna ramble some more.

"But he lied a lot more. And it really weakened his character."

You can tell this happened during the game. Solas lies only once within Inquisition. He says something he can't be vague about and you push him so he lies, badly. He usually tells the truth vaguely. Typically Solas lies no more than Blackwall.

I fully believe that if in Inquisition your inquisitor figured out that Solas was Fen’harel and asked him bluntly to his face he'd confess. He might even be impressed. But why would you ever start to think that. No one assumes that their coworker is actually Poseidon regardless of how much they love the beach and ocean.

He hides in your expectations.

You can't ask him about being an ancient elf or being Fen'harel of myth because those aren't very probable. They're astronomically low to be truth within that universe. And outside, no one finished DA2 and went i wonder if one of our next companions is the Dread Wolf. Sera said, impossible things can't be surprises. He doesn't have to lie so when the truth comes out it's becomes obvious on a second playthrough.

They then actively bring back a problem they fixed in Inquisitions development. That they were open about fixing. That having a character that outright lies to you makes you have no intention of even hearing out the character. It retroactively undercuts Inquisition bc i see people trying to find Solas' lies in it when they aren't going to find any beyond the court intrigue.

It undercuts any lore we do get from Solas bc people dismiss it outright as being a lie from Mr "I abhor blood magic". I feel like shaking people's shoulders like no, dont do it.

They retconned him guys i have proof from 2019.

And its like if you hate Solas is this even satisfying? Like that's not Solas. His motivations are gone (that's a whole other post) and so is his core personality trait. It's like they went here's the Dreadwolf but during the ten years they replaced the smug asshole who was insufferably right with a 20 yo senior chihuahua that doesnt have any teeth.

My favorite villains are those that tell the truth. Because nothing hurts more than the truth. Can you imagine if he told you the truth. If he told you horrible things that you dismissed as lies to only be true. Wouldn't Varric’s death have more weight if he told you Varric was dead only for you - for everyone - to see him in the Lighthouse. If it was a spirit who took his shape to help you or even because it saw something worth reflecting in your memories.

So you dismiss him until it's revealed near the end oh he was telling the truth and you have an oh shit maybe he was right about other things but its too late to try and stop any of the truths he told you which could be from allies/companions betraying to stuff about Ghilan'nain and Elgarnan.

Like the only way to redeem Solas was to listen to him and by going out of your way to address problems he sees and you can find the alternative to tearing down the Veil by a series a little puzzle pieces throughout the game.

Have it be he will only listen to you if you listen to him. That he'll reject your other solution bc why the hell would he trust you if you couldnt extend the same.

Like Solas couldve been a great villian and he should've been great for both the haters and those that liked him. Not only the romance but for those who became his friend. Like i keep coming back to if i hated Solas would i be satisfied with Veilguard.

And the answer is no because that isnt Solas.

Tricking him has no weight bc he's an idiot in Veilguard like not even in the ending bc doesn't notice you switch the dagger around like right in front of him but none of his actions make sense. Ppl have mentioned the regret prison makes no sense for Elgarnan and Ghilan'nain bc they don't have regrets.

Attacking Solas has no weight because he literally needs the shit kicked out of him by a dragon for it to even begin to work. They literally need him to be at deaths door before its realistic that Rook could take him in a fight.

Redeem has no weight bc of the massive retcons to his motivations. They had to retcon the post credits scene bc even if Flemythal went hey i don't want you to do this Dai Solas wouldve went okay but that doesnt solve my other problems with the veil including the corruption of spirits and the fact its in literal shambles so i guess is still coming down.

I'm just disappointed. By the end of Trespasser they had a great villian and they just tossed it to the side and reverted him and people are arguing about a character who's sole defining trait in Veilguard is a problem they solved before Inquisition launched.

Basically we can sum it up with a screenshot.

[norrisleclercf1]

How about some mafia max heartbreak

One of the uncles gets hurt in their house and the babies see🥺 maybe Cassie finding uncle Charles or fabby finding lando unconscious and freaking out

A/N: Oh these poor babies, I hate to put them through heart break but...alright I couldn't put baby Fabby through that so light angst.

He knew he was supposed to be asleep; Momma had put him to bed hours ago but instead of sleeping he's been up reading the books that Uncle Lala got him. Fabby knew it wasn't smart, Daddy or Momma could catch him, but he really loved his new books.

Fabby jumps, hearing a crash and people cursing but then it grows silent, he gently clicks off his flashlight, hoping that Momma or Daddy don't come in the room. But just like his father, his curiosity gets the better of him as he tiptoes out of his room, making sure not to wake up Cassie.

Holding his little dino stuffie he carefully walks down the stairs, knowing that at 4 he should be careful, and careful he is, like the good boy Daddy always calls him. He stops when he hears the familiar voice of his father, and he hugs his dino stuffie tight.

Looking around the corner Fabby freezes seeing Uncle Lala laying on the floor with people rushing around him. "Lala!" Max whips around fast, horror and dread dropping in his stomach seeing his little baby boy there in his pjs and holding his stuffie.

"Fabby," He whispers and moves quickly picking up Fabian and holding him close. "Lala," He cries starting to get panicky wanting his Uncle Lando to wake up. "Daddy, Lala, why not he....wake up," Fabby starts to sniff and Max moves them into the kitchen making sure he couldn't hear or see anything.

"Lala has to take a nap right now, he's really tired so he has to nap, like you should be doing," Max explains softly, not wanting to freak out his son. "Daddy, take nappy with Lala?" He moves to get down but Max holds him still, so he doesn't jump off and go to Lando. "No, baby, come on you can sleep with me," Fabby shakes his head no, his eyes getting wide and glossy.

"Wan Lala," Fabby whimpers and Max sighs, dropping his head as he knew Fabian wouldn't give up easy. "Max?" The kitchen light flicks on as you freeze seeing Fabby up and Max's blood spattered shirt. "Max, go change, now." You say softly, but also quiet sternly that has him looking down and going pale.

"Oh, oh god, Y/n, baby, I didn't know," He whispers, and moves quickly going up the stairs as you walk and cage Fabian in. "Fabby, little kitten, what are you doing up?" You ask softly, pushing back his little blonde hair. "Lala," He points with his little hand and you look behind you.

"Stay here," You say and move into the living room and notices the doctors are done with Lando. "Is he...awake?" You whisper kneeling as you press his hair back sighing. You knew how much Fabby loved Lando, it was the same with Cassian and Charles, thick as thieves. "Yeah, little groggy," Doc nods and Lando chuckles softly, "4 bullets, ironic," And you smile, knowing 4 was Lando's lucky number.

"Oscar and Carlos are going to be pissed," Lando groans and rolls his eyes. "Whatever," "Well, Mr. Lucky, you've got mini you worried," Lando tries to sit up but Doc gently shoves him down. "Uhu," He shakes his head but Lando fights him.

"I'll go get him," You reassure and Lando nods as Max comes jogging down the stairs, "Hey man," And moves quickly to his side. "Took some bullets for you, and all you say is "hey man"" Lando grumbles but stops as Fabby comes running in holding his dino. "Lala," Lando smiles and moves using his good arm to lift him up. "Hey dino man," Fabby giggles and lays down. "Read?" He asks and Max chuckles.

"Fabby, Lala will read to you later, get some sleep," He whispers and leans down kissing Fabby head who giggles. "Do I get a kiss too?" Lando giggles and Max smacks him lightly on the head. "Yes," You lean down and kiss his cheek. "Thank you for bringing my husband home," You whisper, Max wrapping his arm around your waist.

"Thank you," Max whispers turning off the light as Lando makes up a story to Fabby, the sounds of little giggles leave you and Max as you walk upstairs.

[gf2bellamy]

enough ( part two ) — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: it's been a week since your conversation with spencer content warnings: mention of insecurites , very emotional , a/n: a lot of people asked for a pt2 so here it is :) hope you guys enjoy this <33

part 1

A week had passed. Seven long days. It could have been a peaceful week—a rare break from the chaos of working in the BAU.

No cases, no unsubs, just quiet.

But instead of enjoying it, you found yourself curled up on your couch, staring blankly into the void of your living room. 

The words Spencer had spoken haunted you. “I’m in love with you.” They played on an endless loop in your mind, each repetition like a dagger twisting deeper into your chest.

How many times had you cried in the past few days? You’d lost count somewhere around five, but it hardly mattered.

The tears came in waves—sometimes in the middle of the night, sometimes while staring at a book you weren’t reading, and sometimes when you least expected them, triggered by the smallest of things. 

You hated yourself for how you’d handled it. For how you’d shut him down, pushed him away. For the look on his face when he left your room that night. 

And then there was the dread. The gnawing, suffocating dread of what came next. Because at some point, your phone would buzz.

At some point, someone from the team would call or text, and you’d have to go back to work.

You’d have to see Spencer again. 

The thought of being in the same room as him made you feel like you were unraveling. Would he act like nothing had happened? Would he be distant? Could you even bear to meet his eyes? 

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your palms to your temples as if you could physically push the thoughts away.

It didn’t work.

The memory of his voice, his expression, the sheer vulnerability in his confession—it all came rushing back, sharp and vivid. 

And then there was your own voice, trembling as you’d told him you weren’t enough. That you’d ruin him. That he deserved better.

That was the worst part. You wanted to believe him.

But the fear was still there, gnawing at the edges of your resolve. You couldn’t stop questioning yourself, your worth, your ability to give him what he deserved. 

You let out a shaky breath, your hands dropping to your lap as you stared blankly at the coffee table. A half-empty mug of tea sat there, long since cold. Your phone lay beside it, the screen dark and mercifully silent. 

For now.  

Two days later, the thing you’d been dreading finally happened. 

Your phone rang, the shrill sound cutting through the quiet of your room. You groaned, rolling onto your side and blindly reaching for the device on your nightstand. Your fingers fumbled for a moment before you grabbed it and pressed it to your ear. 

“Hey, we’ve got a case,” Derek’s voice came through. 

Your stomach dropped. 

“I’ll be right there,” you mumbled, your voice groggy. 

As soon as the call ended, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a moment, gripping the phone tightly.

Your heart was racing, the feeling of panic building in your chest. 

You stood, your legs feeling heavier than usual as you made your way to the closet. Pulling on your clothes, you tried to focus on the motions—zipping up your jacket, tying your shoes—but your mind kept drifting. To Spencer.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you brushed your hair back and grabbed your bag. 

Get it together, you told yourself, but the words felt hollow. 

The drive to the office was a blur. You barely registered the streets you passed, the familiar route offering no comfort as your thoughts swirled endlessly.

By the time you pulled into the parking lot, your hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that your knuckles had turned white. 

Once parked, you killed the engine and sat there, the silence pressing in around you. Your fingers started tapping on the wheel—a nervous habit you couldn’t seem to shake. 

Focus. You’ve done this a hundred times before. Just... put your personal stuff aside. You have a job to do. 

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment as you tried to calm the racing of your heart.

The memory of his voice, his confession, his heartbreak—it all came rushing back, and your stomach twisted painfully. 

Stop it. You shook your head sharply, trying to push it all away. There was no room for this now. 

You grabbed your bag, stepping out of the car and shutting the door with more force than necessary. The crisp morning air bit at your skin, grounding you slightly as you made your way toward the building. 

Each step felt heavier than the last, but by the time you reached the elevator, you forced yourself to stand a little straighter. The doors opened, and you stepped inside, pressing the button for the floor where your team worked. 

As the elevator doors slid open, you took a deep, steadying breath.You stepped into the bullpen, your shoes clicking softly against the tiled floor as you made your way to your desk. 

Setting your bag down, you instinctively glanced at Spencer’s desk just across from yours. His bag was already there, a clear sign he’d arrived earlier than you—no surprise there. But seeing it sent a fresh wave of panic rolling through your chest. 

You headed straight for the conference room. The case briefing would be starting soon and you did not want to get in trouble with Hotch for being late. 

You pushed the door open slowly, almost hesitantly, and peeked inside. A relieved breath escaped you when you saw only Penelope sitting there, her bright, cheerful presence immediately calming you. 

“Morning, Pen,” you greeted, stepping inside and letting the door close behind you. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” she chirped, looking up from her laptop with a warm smile. Her outfit, as always, was a kaleidoscope of color and patterns, and just seeing her made the room feel a little less heavy. “How are you this fine morning?” 

You hesitated, forcing a smile onto your face as you slid into a seat across from her. “I’m... here.” 

Penelope raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying your vague answer. “Uh-huh. And how’s the rest of you?” 

You blinked, caught off guard by how quickly she’d zeroed in on your mood. “I’m fine, really. Just tired,” you lied, avoiding her gaze. 

Penelope didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press—at least, not yet. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, watching you with a knowing expression that made you squirm. 

“Alright,” she said finally, her tone light but her eyes sharp. “I’ll let you off the hook for now. But you and I both know that when you say ‘fine,’ you mean the opposite. And as your friendly neighborhood tech queen, it is my duty to investigate further.” 

Despite yourself, you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Noted.” 

The door opened again, and you tensed instinctively, glancing over to the door. But it wasn’t Spencer—it was Hotch, followed closely by Derek and Emily. 

You relaxed slightly, turning your attention to the case file Penelope slid across the table. But even as you flipped it open and started scanning the details, a small part of you couldn’t stop bracing for the inevitable moment Spencer would walk through that door. 

Two minutes later, the door opened again. 

Spencer stepped inside, clutching his bag and muttering a quick, “Sorry I’m late.” His voice was soft, almost hoarse, and he moved quickly to take a seat at the table without making eye contact with anyone. 

Penelope paused for just a beat, her eyes flicking toward him in concern, but she quickly resumed her explanation, her usual enthusiasm a little more subdued. 

You kept your gaze glued to the file in front of you, but it was no use. Your heart was pounding so loudly in your chest that you were sure everyone could hear it. 

Don’t look at him, you told yourself. But the pull was too strong. Slowly, cautiously, you let your eyes drift up, stealing a glance at him across the table. 

And that’s when you saw it. 

Miserable. That was the only word for it. 

He didn’t look like himself. His usually bright, curious eyes were dulled with exhaustion, framed by dark circles that told you he hadn’t been sleeping well—if at all. His hair was a little messier than usual, strands falling into his face as he bent over his files

Your chest tightened painfully. 

This was your fault. 

You tore your gaze away, looking back down at your file even though the words blurred together. Guilt churned in your stomach.

You’d been so wrapped up in your own fears and insecurities that you hadn’t stopped to think about what all of this was doing to him. 

Penelope’s voice carried on in the background, but it sounded distant, like you were underwater.

You heard snippets—details about the unsub, the profile they were building—but none of it stuck. Your mind was too busy spiraling. 

You glanced at him again, unable to help yourself. You watched him go through each page of the file. For a moment, his hand stilled, and he glanced up—just for a second. 

Your eyes met, and your breath caught in your throat. 

It was quick, barely more than a flicker of a moment, but it was enough. You saw the hurt there, before he quickly looked away.

Your fingers tightened around the edges of your file, the paper crinkling slightly under your grip. 

You knew deep down that if you’d just told Spencer you didn’t feel the same way, he wouldn’t be acting like this. He’d be hurt, yes, but he’d move on. He was kind, understanding—he’d respect your boundaries. 

But that wasn’t the truth. 

The truth was you did feel the same way. And because of your own fears, because of the deep-rooted insecurities that whispered you’re not good enough for him, you were both caught in this endless cycle of hurt.

You barely registered Hotch’s words as everyone started shuffling out of the room. Spencer didn’t waste a second—he was the first to leave, his long strides taking him out the door without so much as a glance in your direction. 

You sat there for a moment, staring down at your files, as the sound of footsteps and conversations faded into the background. The knot in your stomach tightened. 

Standing up, you gathered your things, forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand.

You stood up slowly, clutching the file to your chest like a shield. You had just taken a step toward the door when Derek’s voice stopped you in your tracks. 

“Hey, hold up,” he said, leaning casually against the edge of the table.

You turned to face him, doing your best to keep your expression neutral. “What’s up?” 

Derek tilted his head slightly, studying you with those sharp profiler eyes that missed nothing. “You tell me. Something’s been off with you lately.” 

You blinked, caught off guard. “Off? I’m fine, Derek.” 

“Uh-huh.” He crossed his arms, giving you a pointed look. “Fine doesn’t look like you zoning out every five minutes. Or avoiding certain people.” 

You froze, your grip tightening on the file in your hands. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Come on.” Derek said, his voice softening slightly. “We’re all profilers here. You think we haven’t noticed what’s going on between you and Reid?” 

Your heart dropped. 

“There’s nothing going on,” you said quickly, too quickly. “We’re just—” 

“Don’t even try that,” Derek interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. And I’ve definitely seen the way you're avoiding each other.” 

You opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out. Because he was right. 

Derek sighed, stepping closer and lowering his voice. “Look, I’m not trying to get in your business. But whatever’s going on, it’s messing with both of you. And that’s not good—for the team or for you two.” 

You looked away, your chest tightening. 

“I don’t want to hurt him.” You said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “

“And what do you think you’re doing now?” Derek shot back, his tone gentle but firm. “You think this is easier on him? On you?” 

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. 

Derek sighed again, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Just... think about it, alright? Talk to him. You two are better than this.” 

With that, he gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before walking away, leaving you standing there with your thoughts swirling. 

You stared down at the file in your hands, Derek’s words echoing in your mind. 

What do you think you’re doing now? 

Half an hour later, you were sitting in your seat on the jet, staring blankly out the window as the rest of the team filed in. You had deliberately chosen a seat as far away from Spencer as possible, and you weren’t surprised to see he’d done the same.

The jet lifted off, the familiar hum of the engines filling the cabin as everyone settled into their roles. You opened the case file on your lap, pretending to read, though none of the words seemed to stick in your mind. 

“Alright,” Hotch’s voice broke through the silence, snapping you back to reality. “Here’s the plan. Rossi and Emily, I want you to head to the crime scene and coordinate with the local police. Derek, you’re with me—we’ll talk to the victim’s family and follow up on their statements. And you two—” he glanced between you and Spencer—“work on the geographical profile. I want a better idea of where the unsub might be operating.” 

Your breath hitched. You felt Spencer stiffen from across the cabin, but neither of you said a word. 

“Understood,” you managed to say, your voice steady despite the anxiety bubbling inside you. 

Spencer gave a small nod, his expression unreadable. 

Once you landed, the others dispersed to their respective tasks, leaving just you and Spencer in the small conference room.

You both moved around the table quietly, spreading out the maps and working in parallel, careful not to cross paths. The markers in your hands squeaked softly as you outlined possible areas of interest. 

“Do you think this area here could be significant?” you finally asked, breaking the silence and pointing to a spot on your map. 

Spencer looked up briefly, his gaze flicking to where you were pointing. “It’s possible,” he said curtly. “It’s close to the highway, so it would make for an easy escape route.” 

“Right,” you said, nodding. You added a note to the side of the map, trying not to focus on how detached he sounded. 

The silence stretched on again, but it wasn’t the comfortable kind you used to share with Spencer.

This was heavy, awkward, and filled with all the words you weren’t saying. 

By the time the rest of the team returned, you were so mentally drained that hearing Hotch announce you’d pick things up in the morning was a relief. 

You didn’t waste any time. The moment you were dismissed, you grabbed your things and headed straight to the hotel.

Your body felt heavy, not just from the day’s work but from the emotional weight of the tension with Spencer. 

When you finally made it to your room, you let the door close behind you with a soft click and dropped your bag onto the floor.

You collapsed onto the bed, letting the plush mattress engulf you as you closed your eyes. For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to exhale, to let the day melt away, but it didn’t take long for the familiar ache in your chest to return. 

You could still see his face in your mind—the way he’d looked at you, the hurt in his eyes. You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, willing the image away, but it was no use. 

Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn’t you just let yourself be happy, let yourself take the leap? 

You groaned softly, burying your face in the pillow. It was no use. No matter how much you tried to push him out of your mind, Spencer was always there. 

Shaking your head, you sat up and swung your legs over the edge of the bed, trying to force yourself to snap out of it. You reached for your bag and rummaged through it, pulling out a big hoodie and a pair of oversized sweatpants.

They were your comfort clothes, and right now, you needed all the comfort you could get. 

Once changed, you padded into the bathroom to brush your teeth. The fluorescent light buzzed softly above you, and as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, you froze. 

It had been a long time since you’d really looked at yourself, and the sight before you was startling. Dark circles framed your tired eyes, and your face looked drawn, as though the life had been slowly drained out of you. 

You looked miserable. 

As miserable as Spencer did. 

You gripped the edge of the sink, your toothbrush dangling limply from your other hand. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut.

The hurt you saw in his eyes earlier today wasn’t just his—it was yours too.

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away quickly.

You set the toothbrush down and splashed cold water on your face.

You leaned against the sink, water dripping from your chin, and stared into your own eyes.

How had it come to this? You’d faced down killers, survived unimaginable danger, and yet here you were, completely unraveled by the thought of loving—and being loved by—Spencer Reid. 

You thought back to the conversation you’d had with Derek, his words echoing in your mind. He wasn’t wrong.

You were hurting Spencer. And in doing so, you were hurting yourself. 

But what could you do now? How could you undo the damage you’d caused when you weren’t sure you could even face him again? 

While you sat in your hotel room, wrestling with your thoughts, Spencer sat in his, just a few doors down. 

He couldn’t shake the image of you today—how your eyes had darted to his when you thought no one was looking, how you’d quickly looked away the moment he caught you.

It wasn’t just the silence between you that hurt; it was the loss of the friendship. 

His heart ached. He missed you so much it felt like a physical pain, a hollow ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away. 

Spencer leaned back against the headboard, his hands resting limply on his lap as he stared at the ceiling. He’d replayed the argument between you two a hundred times in his mind.

At this point, he wasn’t even sure if confronting you about his feelings had been the right decision.

Part of him wished he could go back to the time when he wasn’t certain if you liked him back.

At least then, he could cling to hope, to possibility. 

But now? Now he knew the truth—that you loved him too—and yet it felt worse. Because while his confession had brought a fleeting moment of joy, it had been snatched away by the words that followed. 

Spencer squeezed his eyes shut at the memory, his chest tightening. It hurt him that you thought of yourself that way. That you couldn’t see what he saw in you. 

To him, you were everything. Kind, intelligent, brave—more than enough. And it pained him to know that you didn’t believe that.

That you thought you weren’t good enough for him, as if he were some perfect, untouchable figure who couldn’t see his own flaws. 

He sighed, rubbing his temples as he tried to clear his mind. But no matter how hard he tried, your face kept appearing, your words replaying in his head like a broken record. 

A knock on his door startled him, and he quickly sat up, hoping it was news about the case. But when he opened the door, what he saw left him momentarily frozen. 

You. 

You stood there in your oversized hoodie and baggy pants, your hair slightly disheveled and your eyes red from what was likely hours of crying.

The sight of you, so vulnerable, made his heart twist painfully in his chest. 

Without a word, Spencer stepped aside, opening the door wider to let you in. You hesitated for a moment before walking past him, your steps slow and uncertain as you stopped near the edge of his bed. 

He closed the door softly, turning to face you.

“Hi,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“Hi,” he replied, tilting his head slightly as he studied your face. His tone was gentle, but there was a hint of confusion in his eyes. 

You fidgeted with the hem of your hoodie, your gaze darting around the room before finally settling on him. “I’m sorry for... just showing up like this. I didn’t know what else to do.” 

Spencer shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize.” 

Another beat of silence passed. He could see you struggling to find the words, your brows furrowing as you looked down at your hands. 

You stammered, your words tripping over each other as you struggled to meet his eyes. “I... uhm,” you began, your voice shaky, barely above a whisper.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the intensity of his gaze made it nearly impossible. 

His heart ached as he took in the sight of you—disheveled, vulnerable, and clearly torn apart.

“Spence,” you finally said, your voice trembling as you clutched the hem of your hoodie to ground yourself. Hearing his nickname from your lips again made his heart skip, though it was bittersweet.

He missed it, missed you. 

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, the words tumbling from you as if they’d been trapped for days. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you like this, and I—” Your voice cracked as you rambled, your breathing uneven. “That’s exactly what I was trying to avoid—” You broke off, tears slipping down your cheeks as you looked anywhere but at him, avoiding the weight of his gaze. 

Spencer’s chest tightened at your words, the pain and guilt evident in your voice cutting through him.

He stepped closer, his movements slow, cautious, as if afraid you might bolt. “Stop,” he said softly, his voice calm but firm. 

You shook your head, the tears falling faster now. “I was trying to protect you,” you whispered, your voice breaking again. “From me. From all of this. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I’ve done exactly that. I have ruined everything” 

His brows furrowed deeply, and he took another step closer, the distance between you shrinking. “You haven’t ruined anything,” he said, his voice gentle but resolute. 

You finally met his eyes, your own filled with guilt and anguish. “How can you say that?” you asked, your voice barely audible. “Look at us. Look at what I’ve done. I’ve hurt you, Spencer, and that’s the last thing I ever wanted to do.” 

Tears continued to spill down your cheeks no matter how much you tried to wipe them away. Your hands trembled as you fumbled to control your emotions, but it was useless. 

“Stop,” Spencer said gently, his voice soothing yet firm. He stepped closer, the hesitancy in his movements showing how carefully he was treading around your fragile state. He stopped just inches away, searching your face for permission before he reached out. 

His fingers brushed against your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was soft, careful.

Then, with both hands, he cupped your face and used his thumbs to wipe away the tears streaming down your cheeks. His touch was warm, making it impossible to focus on anything but him. 

Your breath hitched as you opened your eyes, meeting his. His gaze was soft, filled with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

You could see the concern there, the care, the love he had for you. It made the guilt in you swell. 

“I’m really sorry,” you whispered again, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. 

His hands stayed on your face, steady and unmoving, as though he were anchoring you. “You don’t have to keep apologizing,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Yes, I do,” you insisted, your voice trembling. “I hurt you, Spencer. I pushed you away. I—” 

“Stop blaming yourself,” he interrupted, his voice breaking slightly, though his tone remained gentle. “Please, stop. I know you’re scared. I know you think you’re not good enough, but... do you realize how incredible you are? How much I—” He paused, closing his eyes for a moment as he steadied himself. “How much I love you?” 

Your lip quivered, fresh tears threatening to spill as his words washed over you. You wanted to believe him.

You wanted to let yourself believe.But your doubts lingered, the years of insecurities weighing you down like an anchor. 

“I don’t want to ruin you,” you whispered, your voice so quiet it was almost drowned out by the sound of your shaky breaths. “You deserve someone who can give you everything, someone who—” 

“Stop,” he said once again, his voice more insistent now. His thumbs brushed your cheeks again, wiping away another round of tears. “You don’t get to decide that for me. You don’t get to tell me who I should love or what I deserve.” 

You blinked at him, staring into his hazel eyes. 

“I don’t want someone else,” he continued, his tone softening but his resolve unwavering. “I don’t care about perfect, and I don’t care about whatever you think you’re lacking. I want you. With all your flaws, all your fears, all your messiness. I want you. And the only thing that’s ruining me right now is the idea that you don’t believe me.” 

You swallowed hard, his words hitting you like a wave. He looked at you with such sincerity, such unshakable devotion, that it left you speechless. 

What could you possibly say to that? To the sweetest, most genuine man alive, standing in front of you, telling you he loved you and no one else? You felt the words lodged in your throat, tangled with fear and disbelief.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts, trying to make sense of the storm of emotions swirling inside you. 

“Spencer,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I... I don’t know how to do this.” 

He didn’t move, didn’t take his hands from your face and you felt the way his thumbs gently brushed against your skin. 

“You don’t have to know,” he said softly. “We don’t have to have it all figured out. I just need you to let me in. To trust me.” 

His words were a plea, gentle but so full of emotion that it made your chest ache. You opened your eyes and looked at him, his face inches from yours, his expression filled with a vulnerability that matched your own. 

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “I’m scared I’ll mess this up, Spencer. Scared I’ll hurt you again..” 

“You won’t,” he said firmly, his voice steady despite the crack of emotion in it. “You can’t. Do you have any idea how much you mean to me? I’m standing here telling you that I love you, that I want you, and nothing you say or do is going to change that. Not your fears, not your doubts, nothing.” 

You shook your head slightly, tears brimming in your eyes again. “But you deserve so much better—someone who isn’t this... this mess. Someone who can—” 

“Stop,” he interrupted, his voice gentle but firm. “Stop deciding what I deserve. Stop convincing yourself that you’re not enough. Because you are. You always have been.” 

His words broke something inside you, the walls you’d built around your heart crumbling under the weight of his love. A sob escaped your lips, and you brought your hands up to cover your face, trying to hold yourself together, but Spencer wouldn’t let you retreat. 

He gently took your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face as he stepped even closer. “Look at me,” he whispered. 

You did, reluctantly, your tear-streaked face meeting his unwavering gaze. 

“I love you,” he said again, his voice softer now, but no less certain. “and I love all of you.” 

You stared at him, your heart pounding, his words sinking in deeper than you thought possible. 

For a moment, the air between you was heavy with emotion, neither of you speaking as you stood there, so close yet so unsure of what would happen next.

Then, slowly, hesitantly, you stepped forward, your arms wrapping around him as you buried your face in his chest. 

His arms came around you immediately, holding you tight, as though he was afraid you’d slip away.

You could feel his heart beating against yours, steady and sure, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this could work.

[misswynters]

Alone in the rumble, as you died in his arms

short drabble

pure angst / hurt no comfort

requested. by anon

Flames danced in the ruins of Piltover, their light painting the chaos in flickering shades of orange and red. The once pristine city was now a battlefield, torn apart by Ambessa’s Noxian forces. Smoke billowed from the destruction, and the air was thick with ash and the metallic tang of blood. Ekko sprinted through the wreckage, his heart pounding with a fear he hadn’t felt since he lost his family in Zaun.

Every explosion made him flinch, every shadow looked like you. He had sworn to protect you, to keep you safe despite the horrors of this war. You weren’t supposed to be here, not in the thick of the fight, not in the crumbling heart of Piltover. But you had insisted, standing firm in that quiet, determined way of yours.

“Zaun fights against corruption. I won’t stand idly by and do nothing,” you had said, your hand brushing against his.

But now, as he tore through the smoldering streets, his heart filled with dread. Jinx’s globe, her insane, chaotic weapon of destruction, had careened into one of the towering structures nearby. The crash had sent debris flying like deadly shrapnel, and he had lost sight of you in the chaos.

He shouted your name, his voice hoarse from the smoke and desperation. His feet stumbled over rubble, and his eyes scanned every twisted beam and broken wall for a glimpse of you. Your name that once brought warmth now felt like a prayer. The world around him was collapsing, literally. Another blast shook the ground, and a wall buckled under its weight. But all he could think about was finding you.

And then he saw it. A hand peeking out from beneath a pile of rubble, fingers limp and covered in soot. His breath hitched as he ran toward you, adrenaline driving his every step. When he reached the debris, he fell to his knees, his hands trembling as he began pulling away the heavy stones and broken wood. “No, no, no,” he murmured under his breath, the words spilling out like a mantra.

Finally, he uncovered you. Your body was twisted and broken, your beautiful gown torn and stained with blood. Soot clung to your skin, and a deep gash ran along your temple. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

“Firefly…” His voice cracked as he leaned down, cupping your face with shaking hands.

Your eyes fluttered open, unfocused and dim. The spark that always lit them, the one that had drawn him to you in the first place, was barely there. “Ekko…” you whispered, your voice so faint it was almost lost amidst the chaos.

“I’m here,” he said, his tears falling freely now. “I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay, you hear me? Just hold on for abit.”

You tried to smile, but it was weak and fleeting. “I… I don’t think I can,” you murmured, your words slurred from the pain.

“Don’t you dare say that,” he said, his voice breaking as he pressed his cheek to yours. “You’re strong. Stronger than anyone I know. You’re gonna make it. We’re gonna go home. You just have to stay with me.”

But your body was trembling, and your breathing was shallow. He could feel the life slipping away from you, and he was powerless to stop it.

“Mmhm,” you hummed softly, your voice trembling as tears spilled from your eyes. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” he whispered, his heart shattering. “I know, Firefly. I’m here with you, okay?”

Your hand lifted weakly, brushing against his cheek. “I wanted to stay and see it… the future you talked about,” you said, your voice barely audible. “I wanted to be there with you.”

“You will be,” he said, even as the truth clawed at his throat.

But your eyes were beginning to close, the light in them fading like a dying star. “Promise me…” you whispered.

“I promise,” he choked out, his tears falling onto your face as he held you on his lap. And then, with a shuddering breath, you went still. Your body went limp completely against his, no more strength to hold onto.

“No.” The word left him in a broken whisper. “No, no, no!” He pulled you into his arms, rocking back and forth as the weight of your loss crushed him. The city burned around him, but he didn’t care. The world could end, and it wouldn’t matter. You were gone. The one who had brought light into his life, who had stood by him even when the odds were stacked against them, was gone. And it was his fault. He had promised to protect you, and he had failed.

His tears fell freely now, mingling with the blood and soot that covered your face. He pressed his forehead to yours, his voice a broken whisper. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I love you. I’ll always love you.”

Around him, the war raged on. But in that moment, Ekko was frozen, trapped in a world where the only thing that mattered was the girl he had lost. The flames reflected in his tear-filled eyes, their light a cruel mockery of the fire you had once carried within you. He held you close, his heart breaking with every passing second. And as the sounds of battle echoed around him, one thought consumed him: he would never let your memory fade. He vowed to himself that he would add you onto a mural, the one were the rest of the people he cared about were. The future you had dreamed of, the one you had believed in, it was his now. And he would fight for it, no matter the cost.

a/n. first time doing angst for him…idk if i can even do this to him bro 😞 (literally wrote this while at work so sorry if it doesn’t make sense)!

banner. @anitalenia

[literaryavenger]

Obsessed

Summary: Your crush on Bucky may be getting out of control.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Warnings: Dramatic Reader. Language. Angst. Fluff. My poor attempts at being Funny.

Word Count: 1.4K I'm physically incapable of making anything short.

A/N: I wrote this in like 2 hours and I don't even know what this is, just... Yeah.

Masterlist

This is terrible.

This is the worst thing that's ever happened to you.

This is the worst thing that's ever happened to anyone. It's just the most horrible, dreadful, awful thing that could’ve ever happen to yo-

“Would you stop staring at him for fuck's sakes!” Natasha's hissed words make your eyes snap to her and finally away from the metal armed Supersoldier lifting weights. Shirtless.

You don't know when Bucky stopped feeling self-conscious enough to allow him to workout in nothing but a pair of gym shorts, but it has become literal torture for you.

Needless to say, Bucky's current level of undress is making it impossible for you to concentrate on the stretching you're supposed to be doing before your sparring match with Natasha.

But your very thoughtful and not at all exasperated friend makes sure to keep your attention on her during the entirety of our match by thoroughly kicking your ass.

What a lovely best friend you have.

Anyways.

Your entire mood shifts with one not intentionally overheard conversation. Steve enters the gym and goes straight to Bucky, who was putting his weight set down.

“She’s here!” Is all the blonde says to his friend and your heart stops at the way Bucky’s face lights up with a smile, not needing any more information before following Steve out of the gym.

She’s here? Who the fuck is she? Does Bucky have a girlfriend? And most importantly, she’s here? In the Compound?

Natasha can almost see the gears turning in your brain as you make no attempts to move from the mat after she knocked you on your ass for the hundredth time today. You didn’t even seem to notice her hand offering you help to get up, your eyes still looking where Bucky was just a moment ago, staring at nothing in particular while your brain drowns in your overthinking.

Natasha sighs and decides to end the match here, kneeling down in front of you and placing her hands on your shoulders, shaking you gently to snap you out of it.

“Don’t overthink this.” She tells you when she’s sure she has your attention. “It’s probably just a friend visiting.” She tries to comfort you, but you both know that’s highly unlikely. 

Bucky has no other friends outside the team. He doesn’t know how to talk to civilians anymore after everything he’s been through, and gave up trying to after the hundredth time he saw fear in a person’s eyes just by recognizing him. So his friend circle now includes the team and the agents of SHIELD that are not intimidated by him. Point is, every friend he has already lives in the Compound.

So who the fuck is here just to see him? 

Natasha can see that this is a lost battle, your eyes barely concentrating on her as you start drowning in your mind again. All she can do when you’re like this is try to distract you and keep you out of your head. So she takes your hand and helps you up, leading the way to the common room to watch one of your beloved romcoms together, because that’s how much she loves you.

Big mistake.

“Y/N! Y/N!” The excited high-pitched voice came just seconds after you set foot in the common room. And that’s about the only warning you got before the excited 5-year-old jumped on you, your reflexes thankfully quick enough to catch her.

“Hi, Maguna!” You say while chuckling as the little girl hugs you. “You seem excited today. Did you get into the sugar cabinet again?”

Morgan giggles at your joke and shakes her hand before taking your face in her little hands and dramatically saying, “No! A princess came to visit uncle Bucky! A real princess.”

You frown, confused at what she’s talking about, before you look around the room and finally notice everyone else in it. Pepper and Tony are on the couch, looking at you lovingly as you interact with their daughter.

You love Morgan, she’s like a little sister. You never miss an opportunity to babysit her and you spend as much time with her as you can. She also loves you, out of all the Avengers you’re her favorite, much to everyone’s dismay. She calls them all ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’, but you’re just Y/N. You’re her big sister, you don’t need a title. Which is why you're the only one other than Tony allowed to call her 'Maguna'.

Then you notice the other people in the room: Steve, Bucky and… Shuri. The fucking Princess of Wakanda, standing in the common room of the Avengers Compound and just smiling at you as you carry Morgan.

You’ve never met Shuri, but you know she played an important part in deprogramming the Winter Soldier out of Bucky, and you’re grateful to her for it. She’s important to Bucky, and you can’t believe you forgot Bucky has Wakandan friends.

You put Morgan down on the ground again and the little girl takes your hand and aggressively steers you towards where Steve, Bucky and Shuri are standing, clearly thrilled to be in the presence of a real life princess.

“Hi, I’m Shuri.” She offers you her hand when you get close enough and you shake it with your free hand while introducing yourself.

There’s a bit of an awkward pause and you’re about to say the first thing that pops into your head when Morgan thankfully saves you by pulling on your hand, making you look at her. She tells you to come close and, chuckling, you kneel beside her so she can whisper conspiratorially in your ear.

“She’s a princess and she’s really pretty, but I still like you better.” She whispers and you can’t help but laugh.

God, you love this little girl.

You smile brightly at her and launch a tickle attack, her adorable giggles filling the room as everyone looks at you two with warm smiles.

Your attention is solely on Morgan, until you unintentionally hear the whispered conversation between Shuri and Bucky.

“So, this is the girl, huh? She’s pretty.” Shuri says and your heart skips a beat. 

You glance at them as discreetly as you can while still tickling Morgan, only to find Bucky looking at someone behind you. You turn around less carefully and see Sharon just entered the room, and she's also looking at Bucky with a smirk. You quickly return your attention to Morgan, but your mind is going a thousand miles a minute.

Of course he’d like someone more like Sharon. She’s pretty, she’s talented, she’s a total badass and she’s not afraid to go after what she wants.

She’s not a mass of anxiety in the shape of a woman that overthinks everything and becomes a flustered mess every time she’s even near Bucky.

It’s time to admit it to yourself: Bucky just doesn’t see you like that and you need to move on. 

Natasha is right, your obsession with Bucky needs to end.

What you don’t see is Bucky almost glaring at Sharon because he knows damn well why she’s smirking. She came in just before Shuri whispered to Bucky, when he was very intent on looking at you with heart eyes as you played with Morgan.

Just before you looked at him, Bucky noticed Sharon and he had to hold in a groan at her because he knows that she’s never gonna let him live this down.

Both Sharon and Steve have tried really hard to convince Bucky that you like him back and he should make a move on you. But Bucky, being as stubborn as they come, never believes them.

He obviously makes you uncomfortable, you’re always stuttering when he’s around and you avoid eye contact whenever possible. He’s just glad that you can stand his presence enough for the two of you to work together when necessary and to hang out with the rest of the team without problems.

So he just enjoys looking at you from a distance. He loves watching you play with Morgan and his thoughts always run wild with images of you playing like that with kids that are yours and his.

But he knows that’s never going to happen. Why would you like a damaged, PTSD ridden soldier that can’t even make it through the night without waking up from a nightmare? No, that’s definitely not your type.

Bucky accepts the truth: He doesn’t deserve you and you don’t see him like that anyways. 

It doesn’t matter that Sam thinks he’s obsessed, that won’t stop him from looking at you whenever he’s lucky enough to get a glimpse of his little ray of sunshine.

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