#she was found in a cage on the side of the road

[chekovsphaser]

After the lifting debacle of a few months ago, Nina has refused to go into her carrier. Finally worked her back up to chilling in there whenever she wants a small dark spot. Going to let her really relax into it then start working on closing the carrier.

[mountainsandmayhem]

Shhh...Just A Little Bit More

Part Three (Soft Version)

DBF!Joel x Female!Reader - 18+

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 (Spicy Version)

Summary: Joel Miller caught you working where you shouldn't be after you promised to quit. Now he's taking matters into his own hands. Word Count 4.7k

CW: DBF!, Dom!, SoftDom!, use of nicknames (baby, sweet pea, baby girl etc.), Sub/Dom, DD/LG, use of a collar, use of toys. no use of y/n. no description of reader except for piercings. Praise, degradation. After care.

AN: THANK YOU for all your love on parts 1 and 2. I was in my feels when I wrote this, so this is the sweeter version of the two. I'd love to hear which version you preferred!

“Hey, buddy. It’s Joel.”

“Joel?” You can hear your dad’s muffled and panicked voice through the receiver. “Where’s my daughter? Why do you have her phone? It’s 5 am!” 

“Remember that time Sarah ran away to your house and you told me that one day I might be doing the same for you?” 

Your dad is silent for a while, a distorted higher pitched voice filters through before you hear your dad again, “It’s alright honey. She’s with Joel.” He lets out a deep sigh before adding, “I thought we skipped the rebellious phase with her.”

“She’s a good girl. I think she just needs some time to cool off.” Joel says, his voice is friendly and light.

You squeeze your thighs together and nuzzle deeper into Joel’s throat. You know what you need, and it isn’t to cool off. He and your dad have been friends since the day he moved in down the street. You were seven and Sarah was eleven, you thought she was the coolest person on the planet. Wonder what she’d think of you now, cuddled up against her dad after he just edged the fuck out of you after spanking you in an alleyway. You’re lost in your thoughts as Joel talks with your parents for a while.

A sane person would stop being so turned on right now. Fuck, I need Joel. So badly. Maybe I should rile him up some more. 

“I’ll come by this afternoon,” Joel hugs you tighter, bringing you back to the conversation. “Ya, if she wants to, I’ll bring her. She’s ok, just never seen her more - frustrated.” 

You squeeze his side, knowing he’s smirking about how frustrated and needy you truly are right now. He hangs up the phone and brings his lips to yours, kissing you harder this time. You moan into his mouth, hands roaming up his body to tangle in his hair. 

Holy shit, Joel Miller is kissing me. 

As you run your nails along his scalp he lets out a pleasurable sounding gasp. Oh, he likes that, he likes that very much. 

Got ya, you think to yourself. 

He pulls away to see you smiling at him. “This is why I usually tie naughty girls down,” his voice is completely different from how it was just moments ago. Deeper, more commanding, and it reverberates through you, right to your pussy. “Because they think they’ve found spots that will get them what they want. Let’s go home now, darlin’.” 

Joel’s front door has barely closed before he’s pushing you up against the wall, caged in by his arms and strong chest. 

Every bump on the drive home had you twitching, you tried your hardest not to gasp and moan but the combination of the gravel road, your insane state of heightened arousal, and the lack of underwear in your stiff denim shorts were all working against you. 

“Did you come on the drive home?” He says coldly, lips pressing against your neck, hitting that sweet soft spot just below your ear. 

“No, Joel,” you whine. 

His teeth graze your throat and you cry out, “It’s Mr Miller, don’t make me remind you again.” 

Your hands scramble for purchase as your knees start to give out, wrapping around the open flannel shirt he’s wearing over a fitted black t-shirt. 

“I’m sorry, Mr Miller. I don’t…” you trail off, you aren’t sure if you should say you’ve never been a sub before, at least not to someone this experienced. You don’t want him to stop, you love what happened tonight and you want him to show you and teach you what this all means. But even more so, you trust him to teach you. 

Joel stops kissing you, hands coming to your waist and lifting you so your eye level. When you wrap your legs around his trim waist you gasp out in a mix of pleasure and pain. Your poor cunt is begging for relief but you can’t barely stand your clit to be touched. His eyes look at you with concern. 

I deserve to go to hell if she tells me she’s a virgin. Fuck, you were so stupid when it comes to her. 

“I need you to finish that sentence, babygirl. You don’t what?” 

Your cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink, so shy compared to that bratty girl who told him to kiss his ass. Joel has the gut sinking feeling that you might have him wrapped around your little finger already.

Dangerous.

Very very dangerous.

Not to mention stupid. 

“I’ve just..” you start, he brings his hands to cup your face, moving a few strands of stray hairs that are stuck to your lips. “I haven’t had a Dom before. I don’t know what to do or what to call you.” 

Cute, Joel thinks to himself, she’s so fucking cute right now. 

“Well babygirl, when we are playing like this you do what I tell you, and if you don’t like what I tell you, you use the safe word. Do you remember it?”

You nod, biting your lip as you whisper, “Cowboy.” 

His face lights up with pride and in that moment you realize you’ll do anything to have him look at you like that again. And when he throws in a gravelly, ‘good girl’, any inhibitions you had go out the window. You are a good girl, you want to be his good girl…forever. 

He continues, “And when we are playing you call me Mr Miller. Otherwise, you can call me whatever you’d like.” He places a light kiss on the tip of your nose and you melt a little more into him and the wall behind you. “Do you have any other questions, baby?” 

Do you know what it does to me when you call me baby? 

Or kiss my nose or forehead like you have? 

Can you spank me again? 

Can you make me come? 

Can I suck your dick? 

How do you feel about anal? 

“Umm,” you press your lips together, eyes taking in every little bit of his face, trying to memorize this moment. “How will I know when we are playing and when we aren’t?” 

Fuck, if this girl lets me put a collar on her I’m going to come in my pants and then propose. 

“There’s my smart girl,” he praises, his coffee and caramel coloured eyes washing over you. “We can have a symbol, something I give you when we play. And when you’re wearing it you’re mine.” His voice sounds full of passion all of a sudden, each work almost sears itself onto your heart. 

Your heart is pounding at what he’s implied and you’re almost sure he can hear it. “What kind of symbol?” 

He puts you down and then gets on one knee to untie your shoes and help you slip them off. His warm fingertips trail up your legs as he stands before taking your hand in his. With his large palm encasing yours, suddenly you feel safe and loved, your pussy flutters at the promise of him taking care of you in a way that only he can. You know you’re going to be ruined for all other men. 

He leads you to his bedroom and it’s nothing like you remember when you’d play hide and seek while Sarah babysat you. Gone is the old wooden furniture and mismatched bedding. Replaced with a black metal bed frame, along with matching bedside tables and dresser, and the fluffiest white sheets you’ve ever seen. You so badly want to just sink in and get naked with Joel. It looks like it would be like getting fucked on a cloud or cotton candy and those thoughts are only solidified when he tells you to sit before he heads to the closet doors. 

He slides the barn door of his large walk-in closet open. The room seems to wrap you up in Joel’s scent, warm and spicy with a hint of vanilla. As he walks into the closet he toes off his boots and then slides his flannel off, placing it on a hanger. It might be your very neglected pussy talking, but you swear you can see every muscle in his body underneath that shirt and you unconsciously spread your legs a little bit. He reaches up above the clothing and pulls out a black box with a lock on it and then looks at you mischievously as he pads back over to you. 

“Sometimes,” he says gently, “A dom will give their sub a collar. When it’s on, we’re playing. You belongs to me. When it’s off, we can just act how we normally would.” 

A collar, definitely not sure how you feel about that. You don’t want to be like a dog with a black leather collar around your neck. He slides the numbers to enter the combination and then flicks the clasp open. 

To your surprise, he pulls out a dainty golden chain. It almost looks like a bunch of yellow paper clips strung together, and there’s a tiny lock pendant on the end. He runs the thin links through his fingers before looking over at you. 

“You don’t have to do this, I can just take you home and we can go back to how things were. Ultimately, you always have the choice.” If a stranger could see the way he was looking at you right now, they’d never be able to tell he was capable of the spanking he gave you earlier. 

“You’ll stop if I say ‘cowboy’?” You say, voice cracking, nervous and excited energy fighting for first place. 

“Always, babygirl. I’m here to dominate you, but I’m also here to take care of you. A good dom will always take of their sub.” 

“Then I want to. Please, Mr Miller. Make me yours.” 

He almost growls as he pulls you to your feet. You squeal as he hoists you over his shoulder, his hands strong on the back of your thighs as he carries you to the floor-length mirror at the end of his closet. He stands behind you as he works the clasp, placing the thin gold collar around your neck and then doing it up. He’s so close that you can feel his cock harden at the sight of you as he officially makes you as his for the first time. Joel's thick fingers trace along the rings, he thumbs the little lock pendant before he grips your throat just below your jawline. He applies pressure to your pulse point as his now black eyes come to meet yours in the reflection and brings his lips to your ear. 

With a growling, rough whisper he says, “You have five seconds to get naked and lay in my bed with your legs spread as wide as you can.” 

The instant his hand releases, you sprint to his bed, stripping your clothes as you go. He counts to five with authority and after what happened his truck, and now this, you’re sure you’re never going to be able to count without getting turned on ever again. 

“Such an eager little thing, aren’t you?” 

Desperate to hear him praise you, you lay on your back, planting your feet on the bed before letting your knees fall open. 

“Straighten your legs and put your hands above your head.” You position your body how he says, even though you’re completely exposed to him his eyes stay locked on yours. “This is how I want you when we start playing. Exactly how you are now.” 

He grabs another box from his closet and places it on the foot of the bed, eyes travelling up your toned legs, “I’m going to show you what you’ll be going to work with inside of you tomorrow if you decide to stay there. I haven’t forgotten that you were a brat tonight.” 

He opens the box and pulls out a black U-shaped piece of silicone and lays it on your belly. “Do you know what this….” 

He stops mid-sentence, eyes lighting up as they rake over your tits. They dance from each nipple, taking in the tiny barbell and the thin hearts that encompass each one. “You are a naughty little thing, aren’t you?” 

“I like pain,” you whisper, throat going dry at the admission. 

“My little masochist,” he hums. “As I was saying, do you know that is?” He nods his head towards the little toy. 

You shake your head, “No, Mr Miller.” 

“That goes inside your gorgeous pussy. One part pushes on your g spot, the other on your clit. I have the remote.” He holds up a small plastic remote with a few shiny buttons.

“Oh,” you moan, your lips forming in the shape of the word, nipples getting harder at the thought.

“I will keep it turned on low enough that you will not come. In fact, it might be more like torture than pleasure.” His eyes are sparkling at the thought of you squirming for hours.

“But I don’t want to quit,” you whine. You’re a glutton for punishment and you know Joel will dish it out. 

“How long is your shift?” He says, picking up the toy, the graze of his fingers along your belly sends an electric current through your body. 

“Four hours,” your voice is husky with need. 

“I’m going to get some lube and then put this toy inside of you now, babygirl. We’ll see how long you can last. Is that okay?” 

“Of course, Mr Miller.” You try to sound confident but in the bright lights of his room, you can see how dark and serious he looks. 

He lubes up the toy and then swipes some lube through your folds. Your back arches off the bed and you let out a loud high pitched moan when he hits your clit. 

Fuck. I’m gonna come with the tiniest vibration and it’s probably going to hurt. 

“So wet. So swollen. My poor girl,” he says mockingly, he’s loving that you’ve been suffering and on edge since the minute you saw him in that alleyway. 

The toy slides in and the pressure just from the silicone alone sends the air whooshing out of your lungs. You’re gasping for breath, your clit feels like it’s being zapped with electricity and you immediately slam your thighs together and start to whimper. 

A small, almost evil sounding chuckle comes from Joel as he holds up the remote. “Ready?” 

“No,” you gasp, rolling onto your belly. “I can’t. Please don’t.” 

“Are you going to quit?” 

You cry out in frustration into one of his fluffy pillows and then whisper a sad, “no.” 

The vibrator comes to life and the most intense mix of pain and pleasure floods your body. He’s right, the sensation isn’t enough to make you come, just enough so that you know it’s there. You bury your face deeper in the pillows, curling yourself into the fetal position, back towards Joel, as you try to breathe normally. 

Joel strips down to his boxers before shutting off the lights. He slips into the sheets, covering you up along the way. “Good night, baby girl.” 

“What?” You gasp. “Mr Miller. I….oh god…I c-can’t. It’s on.” 

“You may as well get used to it. You’re going to work with it in tomorrow. No more talking. Go to sleep.” 

Joel lays on his back, one arm behind his head, the other palm spread out on his chest. You flip around to face him, the early morning sun lighting his profile. There’s no way you’re going to be able to sleep, you shift your legs around. 

Maybe if they’re spread I won’t feel the vibration as much. 

That doesn’t seem to work so instead you squeeze them together. More pressure might make you come and then you can finally get some rest. Joel looks over at you as you jerk around silently. 

“Come here,” he says, patting his chest. You cuddle into him, one leg draping over his warm body. The arm behind his head wraps around your naked body. He feels so soft but hard against you. You can’t help but hump against his hip bone. You’re right on the edge. So close to tipping over it and coming. So very close. 

“Baby, it hasn’t even been four minutes, how are you going to last four hours?” He’s taunting you, trying to get you to beg. “You’re pathetic.” 

You can feel sweat breaking out across your body. This is torture, was right. You hate that he was right, but you hate even more how much he’s loving it. 

“Please,” you whisper. 

He pulls back to be able to look into your eyes. “What are you going to do for me if I make you come?” 

“Anything. Just. Please, Mr Miller.” You grind yourself into him harder, you’re so close that it’s almost unbearable. 

“Quit your job, baby girl.” He demands again. “I’ll tell your parents you’re going to work for me.” 

You start to pant as the pressure in your lower belly increases, you can feel wetness pooling inside of you, begging to be released. “I can’t take your money. Oh god - please - I ca-can’t. Hnnnnng. P-please.” 

A tear runs down your cheek and you’re not even sure why you’re crying, probably out of frustration.  

“You can. I’ll pay you to help around the house,” he holds up a hand, almost like he knows exactly what you’re doing today. “Not for the sex you’re guaranteed to get if you quit and come here.” He wipes the tear away and hikes his leg up to increase the pressure that’s already on the verge of making you pass out. 

Stars start to blur your vision as you whisper, “ok. I’ll quit.” 

Joel has you flipped onto your back, trapped under his weight before you can even register what’s happening. He’s kissing you deeply, tongue taking what it wants as your legs kick and shake under him. 

“Please!” You cry between kisses. 

His thick fingers slide between your puffy folds and the toy, you scream out as he pulls the toy from you. 

“Shhh…just a little bit more. I’m going to make it better,” he says gently, kissing down your neck, swirling his tongue around each nipple piercing. 

“Please. Please. Please, Mr Miller. Please. It hurts. I need, please.” You’re a mumbling mess and the words leaving your lips are practically incomprehensible. 

“I know. Relax baby. Breathe.” He says between kisses down your sternum, his tongue tracing your curves. When he finally settles in between your thighs he swallows hard, he wants to dive right in, make you drench his face as you come. “Look at me, darlin’.” 

His warm breath hits your pussy and you fight your hips from bucking up to his face as prop yourself up on an elbow and try to focus your eyesight on him. You didn’t know it was possible to be so turned on that you practically had tequila vision. 

His voice is serious yet calm as he says, “I’m going to make you come using my fingers and my tongue. Is that ok?” 

You nod your head and a faint ‘yes’, leaves your lips. 

“Can I lick and touch both the outside and inside of this beautiful, weeping, pussy?” 

His words from earlier echo through you. Ultimately, you always have the choice. 

Joel Miller would never do something you didn’t want and that sets your soul on fire. He cares. About you. Only you. Wants to do things for you. You are not a burden here. You are not a burden to him. 

“Yes, Mr Miller. Please. Touch me.” The room suddenly feels twenty degrees hotter, you can feel sweat beading on your skin. 

“What’s your safe word?” 

“Cowboy,” you hum, never taking your eyes away from his blown out obsidian gaze. 

“That’s my girl,” he says, sliding his ring and middle finger around your desperate entrance. You cry out, dropping your body to the bed. Pleasure. Overwhelming pleasure. “No no baby girl, eyes on me.” 

You somehow muster the strength to raise yourself onto shaky arms. His two strong fingers slide deep into your heat with minimal resistance and you immediately start gasping. Pleasure. Life altering, heart stopping pleasure. 

“Fuuuuck. Baby. So tight. Have you ever squirted before?” His cheeks are flushed with need. He might be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. 

Your breasts rise and fall with your ragged breaths. You shake your head and moan out a ‘no’. 

He smiles down at your dripping cunt, “I can feel it. Gotta relax for me. Just breathe and let it happen.” 

Nerves flutter in your stomach and then he curls his fingers forward, putting so much pressure on a soft spongy spot that you didn’t know existed. On instinct, your knees try to close but his wide frame keeps you open. You yell his name to the ceiling, he knows he should punish you for not calling him Mr Miller but you look so goddamn beautiful as you start to fall apart. 

“Breathe baby,” he says as he curls his fingers once, twice, three more times. You can hear how wet you are and the pressure becomes unbearable. Stars blur your vision again, the walls of your pussy squeeze tightly around his fingers and then it’s just a blur. A blur of all consuming pleasure. 

“That’s it. That’s my girl. Come for me. Soak me. Good girl,” Joel’s free hand pressed down on your mound as a wet heat leaks all over you. “Good fuckin’ girl. Let go for me.” 

You’re not sure if you’re screaming or not, all you hear and feel is Joel. Everything is Joel. Strong hands, deep gravel voice, warm vanilla smell. He’s everywhere and you never want it to stop. 

“Keep going. That’s it. You look so beautiful,” he says, licking a long stripe up your fluttering pussy, drinking up your juices. “Oooh yeah - gooood giiirrll”

Almost immediately after your orgasm crests it becomes too much. You’re so overstimulated that it hurts and your moans of pleasure become cries of pain. You forget your name, where you are, you even forget your safe word. But Joel knows, he always knows. 

He stops pumping his fingers and says your name, “look at me sweet pea.”

You blink slowly, you’re wrecked, barely able to keep your eyelids open, almost convinced they’ve been replaced with steel. You’re sucking in air, did you not breathe that entire time? 

“Breathe baby, you’re ok.” He says, stilling his fingers until you’re ready. 

“I’m sorry, Mr Miller. I know I called you Joel. I won’t do it again.” 

There she goes again, being so fucking cute. “It’s ok, darlin’ girl. I want you to let loose when you come.” He places a few light kisses along your thighs. The sheets and his t-shirt a soaked, he’ll need to change things before you both get some sleep. “I’m gonna pull my fingers out.” 

You fall back to the bed and fist the sheets to ground yourself as he slides his fingers out. “You did such a good job. Made a huge mess. I’m so proud of you, babygirl.”

Every bone and muscle in your body seems to have dissolved and all you can muster is a weak smile and a little whimper of thanks. “I need to get you cleaned up. Stay here.” 

Stay here? I have no bones. Where else will go? 

The sound of running water coaxes your eyes to close. The mattress shifts under Joel’s weight as he sits beside you, lightly trailing his finger down the bridge of your nose. “I’m going to carry you to the shower. Ok?” 

You let out an agreeable hum as he scoops you into his arms. His warm naked chest pressed against you. He walks into the shower with you, the steam warming your skin. He places you on your feet and guides you under the water with him. Water is hitting you from all angles. You open your eyes to see 3 showerheads in his large, modern glass shower. A large rainfall one above the two of you, then two down the wall. The bundle of fresh eucalyptus hanging from one head fills the shower with a fresh scent. 

His fingers fumble with the clasp of your collar behind you, “how are you feeling after what happened tonight?” 

You smile at the white and black tiled wall as the collar slides off your neck and into Joel’s hands. “Mmm - like I’m not gonna quit my job so we can do it again.” 

“Don’t think I won’t put this on again right now and make you regret that.” 

You giggle and press your body back into Joel’s. He’s completely naked behind you and you have the sudden urge to taste him. As you spin around and get to your knees he stops you, “don’t interrupt my aftercare, please.” 

“Your what?” 

He grabs the soap and a fresh wash cloth and starts to work it to lather. “I told you, it’s my job to take care of you.” It’s too early to admit it to you, but aftercare is Joel’s favourite part. He’s grumpy and rough on the outside, but he loves the tender moments after playing with his subs. Especially you, and that’s something he won’t even admit to himself yet. 

He runs the soft cloth over your arms and chest, using extra caution not to catch on your nipple piercings. I like these,” he says, eyes memorizing every inch of the skin he’s washing. 

“Thanks, you’re actually the first person to see them.” 

“That right?” He moves the cloth down your stomach before kneeling in front of you and washing your legs. “You know what I think you should pierce next?” 

“I have an appointment next week for something,” you tease. It’s not a lie, you have an appointment to get a second hole in each earlobe, but may as well play with him a little. 

“Oh? Don’t tease an old man like that, baby girl. What new surprise am I gonna find?” He brings the cloth up and down your other leg. 

“What do you want to find?” 

His hands grip your hips and he spins you around. You have a small bruise forming on your one ass cheek and his cock jumps at the sight. “Belly button,” he says. 

“Oh?” You say with surprise as he stands behind you and scrubs your back. You turn to look at him over your shoulder and add, “I was thinking of doing my clit.” 

Joel’s hands come to his heart as he moans. “Fuck me, baby girl. I’d have to leave the god damn continent until it healed.” 

You laugh as he brings his lips to yours. You’re suddenly very aware of the fact that you aren’t wearing a collar. But he’s kissing you and washing your body. Does this mean that Joel Miller, your dad’s best friend, might have the same sort of feelings that you have? Or is this just what he does with his subs after dehydrating them with his fingers and tongue. 

“Stay in the warm water while I change the sheets. I’ll be back,” you look over your shoulder to finally take in his naked body. His back is lined with corded muscle, water droplets filling the dips and grooves of his sculpted body. It looks like you could bounce your whole fucking bank account off his round ass. 

Am I salivating. I feel like I’m salivating. 

He wraps a white bath sheet around his waist before you get to see his front - as much as you loved being taken care of earlier you should have looked down. You run some shampoo and conditioner through your hair, rinsing it out just as Joel comes back, now in a pair of fitted boxer briefs. He holds up a towel for you, and after turning off the water you pad over to him for him to wrap you up and gently dry you off. 

“Thank you, Mr Miller,” you say instinctively. 

He smiles softly at you as he dries every inch of your skin. “Go lay down, babygirl. I’ll get some lotion and then you need to get some sleep.” 

When you walk out to his bed there’s a t-shirt and a bottle of water on the pillow for you. 

Fuck. I’m in love. 

Taglist:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot @lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @baar-ur @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog @pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde  @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya @javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @akah565 @pinkiec6-rubi @pedroshotwifey @iluvurfather@ashleyfilm @mermaidgirl30

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - BEGIN AGAIN

A/N: And here I am, once again. With another one-shot. Well... not a one-shot. This is chapter one of a series with Logan. More on that later.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: none

Summary: After a failed mission, Logan unexpectedly brings home an injured mutant.

Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story includes mentions of abuse.

Words: 5300+

Important note: Again, Logan is a tall MF, because they fucked up in the movies. Also, Hugh Jackman!Wolverine.

A TOUCH OF HOPE MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - BEGIN AGAIN

Logan’s mission was a failure, a trap. He was glad he got away before he could end up in a cage, locked forever. It was supposed to be easy. An in-and-out mission with a mutant child. Fuck no. He was met with a bunch of soldiers, ready to kill him. And, there was no child. He quickly learned that it was a set-up. The child that Charles had found got moved away from that facility. 

On his way back to the school, he found a place to get a drink. The moon was up in the sky, illuminating the night world. The air got colder. He still had a long road home. One little detour to a bar wouldn’t hurt anybody, right? A drink would lift his spirits.

He parked a stolen motorbike in front of a dive bar. Drink or two to get his mindset straight, and then he would head back to the school. 

The place smelled like a hellhole - urine, spilt alcohol and cigars. It was a perfect place to hide a corpse. By the smell, he wondered if there wasn’t a rotten body under the floor. He sat at the bar, ordered a beer and minded his business. He could hear everything with his enhanced hearing - even a pin drop. 

Whistles came from behind his back when he was on his second beer. That could only mean one thing - a woman entered this hellhole. Probably a hooker, he thought. 

“Hey baby, are you lost?” he heard someone’s sleazy voice. 

“Now that’s what I call entertainment for tonight!” another man shouted. Some even made howling sounds. 

Logan gently turned his head to the side, ready to see an old hag or a trashy whore. What he found was a young woman approaching the bar. She had torn old clothes on her, covered in dirt and dust. He wouldn’t stare at her if it weren’t for the bruises and scratches on her face and hands. He frowned. What the fuck happened to her? 

She took a seat two seats to his left side. The corner of his eyes captured three scumbags approaching her as if she was their prey. Logan gripped his beer bottle tighter, his knuckles becoming white. 

“Baby, let’s have some fun,” one guy touched the woman’s shoulder, making her face them. 

“Leave me alone,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. 

“Come on, sugar, don’t be a prude,” another man touched her cheeks, mapping the wounds on her face. “Somebody had their turn. Now, we want to have some fun. Huh?” 

It was Logan’s cue to step in. He was fast enough to take the man’s hand off the woman. He gripped it tightly with his, twisting it. “Leave her alone, dipshit. I’m not gonna say it twice.” 

“Get your paw off me, dude,” the man growled. He couldn’t get away from Logan’s hold. His friends got his back, ready to beat Logan’s ass. “And leave before the we will teach you a lesson.”

The woman’s breathing sped up, distressed from everything that was happening. “Stop, please,” she said to all of them. But she was cornered at the bar by one of the guys. There was nowhere to escape.

Logan smiled at the bastards. “I’d like to see you try.” 

His adamantium claws slid out and penetrated the man’s skin on his arm, almost cutting off the limb. He screamed from the pain, blood spurting everywhere. Then was kicked in the gut. 

One of the men grabbed the woman’s shoulder, pushing her to him. A knife appeared under her throat. He wanted to get away with her. “No, please,” she gasped as she felt the man’s other hand wrapped around her torso, holding her against her will. She was tired, beaten and ready to give up. 

“Shh, darlin’, it’ll be over soon. We’ll have some fun. Be a good girl and come with me.” 

Logan’s eyes found the woman visibly disgusted and afraid. As he was about to finish the second guy, the woman pushed the bastard off her. 

“No,” she screamed. And with that painful sound, some force escaped her body, knocking down everyone around her, even Logan. He flew through the bar and smashed into a wall like the rest of the people. Glasses and bottles shattered around the place. 

Logan grunted, surprised by what happened. Slowly, he got on his feet. His eyes found the woman again, standing at the same spot, alone. Her body was shaking. It seemed she was on the verge of crying. 

Grunting, he stood up and walked to her. She pressed herself against the bar. “No, please.”

“Don’t worry,” his voice was softer than before. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya, kid.” 

She took a step back, shaking her head. She didn’t believe a word he said. No wonder. 

Fuck this night! Then and there, he knew he had to take her with him. At least he wouldn’t come empty-handed. 

“We are the same,” he tried again, slowly reaching for her. “I can take you to a safe place. There are people like us who can help you.” 

His eyes scanned the woman’s face. He knew only two options could have happened: A) She got beaten up by her significant other. B) She escaped some sick fuckers who experimented on her. 

People around were getting on their feet, shaking off the dizziness. They were processing what happened. Some of them were able to put two and two together - mutants.

“Come before they try to kill us both,” Logan tried her again. “Take my hand. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

“Fucking mutants!” someone shouted. “Kill them! Kill them both!”

This time, the woman didn’t hesitate and grabbed Logan’s hand. What choice did she have? He led her out of the bar before the first gunshots started. He got to his bike and sat on it. “Quick, hop behind me.” 

At least seven men ran out of the bar with shotguns and pistols, shooting at them. One of the bullets hit Logan’s shoulder. He snarled from the pain. He started the bike before more shots could get to him or the woman. 

When he felt her body against his back, he started the engine. “Hold me tight,” he shouted at her. 

The woman grabbed him by the waist, gripping him tightly. The gunshots weren’t stopping. A few of them swished near their heads. Her heart beat fast. She gave her life to some stranger. The last time that happened, they tortured her. 

One of her hands let go of the man’s and turned her weak body to the side. One more time, the power escaped her hand, and she protected them from the bullets that kept flying around. Again, a veil of some energy surrounded them. Under the moonlight, it seemed silvery and light blue.  Bullets got absorbed into the shield. 

It lasted only a few seconds, and then the energy disappeared. The shooting stopped. Logan got them far away from that hellhole. Now, it was just the two of them on the bike driving away. 

“You okay?” he asked, shouting through the wind. 

He then felt her other arm sneak around his waist to hold onto him. The rest of her body leaned against his back. He heard a deep exhale and a soft “yeah”. 

He couldn’t believe anything that happened today - first, a failed mission that almost got him captured. Now, a woman on his bike, whom he saved from pervs. Plot twist - she was a mutant with an ability he had never seen before. 

And he didn’t know her name. 

Logan registered that her body got heavier, and the grip on his waist loosened. “Shit,” he cursed and slowed down, bringing the vehicle to a stop. He moved fast, doing his best to capture her body before she could fall. 

“Hey,” he shook her a little as he took her into his arms. “Come on, kid, I need you to come back and look at me.”

Unknowingly, he brushed her cheek with his thick fingers. Damn, she was pretty. That’s when she opened her eyes slowly, staring into his. “I’m sorry,” was all she said. 

“That’s okay, kid. Can you hold on a little longer? We are two and a half hours away from a safe place.” 

She took a deep breath. “Please, just kill me and don’t make me suffer.” 

Logan frowned. He got an answer he wondered. Option B was the correct one. “What? No, not happening, bub. I won’t harm ya. I promise you that.”

“I’ve heard that before.” 

“I get it, kid. I get you have no reason to believe me. Just this once, trust me.” 

He helped her to her feet, holding her tight in case she’d lost balance. Her eyes found his. Tears were sparkling inside of them. “Okay,” she whispered. 

“Good girl,” he praised her gently and helped her get on the bike behind him. “If you need anything, tell me and I’ll stop. Keep your eyes open.”

I should have stolen a car, he thought. But at least they were on their way to Charles Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters. 

They entered the school’s estate. From afar, they could see the lights coming from the building. The woman exhaled, and her hands again lost their grip. This time, she fell from the bike onto the hard ground. It was so quick that he didn’t have time to notice she was slipping off him. “Shit!” Logan cursed and brought the bike to a halt, jumping off it. 

He ran to the woman, kneeling next to her. First, he checked her up, just to be sure she wasn’t dead. “Hey, hey,” he tapped her face, trying to wake her. Nothing happened. His fingers managed to find a pulse. Fortunately, it was there. “Storm! Charles!” he shouted from the top of his lungs. “Anyone!” 

Logan grabbed her body, holding her under the knees and back. He started to walk to the school. One of her arms was hanging in the air. 

The main entrance door opened. Several people ran outside. Storm was the first one out, followed by Beast and Bobby. They were all dressed in sleep outfits. Their sleep was interrupted by the unexpected turn of events. It was two in the morning. 

“Holy shit,” Bobby commented when he noticed the woman in Logan’s arms. 

“Oh my god! What happened?” Storm questioned. 

Together, they walked inside the mansion and headed to the lower grounds where they had their infirmary. It was hard to be silent. When they walked inside, Logan put the woman on an examination table. 

“Damn,” Scott commented. 

Jean was already there, prepping the tools. When she approached the woman, she gasped. “What the hell happened to her?” Storm helped as much as she could. Hank approached the table as well.

Logan was visibly pissed. His chest was heaving, and he wanted to punch a wall. “Where the fuck is Charles?” he asked loudly. “Fucking mission, fucking night!” 

“Who did this to her?” Storm asked, her hands gently brushing the woman’s bruised face. It played with colours, spreading from one side to the other. Her fingers brushed against the scratches. “What’s her name?” 

Logan huffed. “Don’t know. There wasn’t a lot of opportunity to chit-chat when scumbags were shooting at us,” he explained to them. “All I know is she’s a mutant. She protected our asses. That’s why I brought her here.” 

“Vitals are stable. There is no internal bleeding.” Jean informed them once she checked the first data that she got. “Hm,” a sound escaped her throat. “We need to scan her body to see if she has anything broken.”

“Logan had to get a child, and he comes back with a woman,” Scott commented not so silently. 

“Scott,” Ororo glared at him. “He saved her life.” 

“You’re such a dick, Summers,” Logan frowned at him. 

“It’s good you brought her here, Logan,” Hank joined the conversation. 

“She was about to become a toy for some fuckers who can’t keep their dick in their pants,” Logan said. “And then she showed me what’s in her. I’ve seen a lot of shit throughout my life. Honestly, I’ve never seen this kind of mutation.”

“What did she do?” Hank asked. Everyone wanted to know more. 

The Wolverine grunted and shook his head. “Dunno how to describe it. Some force got out of her that threw us all away from her. It was powerful, it stung like a bitch. It looked like a veil of energy. When she used it again, it absorbed all the bullets fired at us.” 

“Flyrokinesis?” Jean questioned. 

“It’s a possibility,” Hank nodded. “But I’d need to see it. Or it could be Flyrogenesis.” 

“Or both,” Jean added.

“Defensive mutations are rare,” Storm chimed in. “It’s been decades since we got any information about a mutant like this.”

“Until we know more, we can only speculate,” Hank ended the discussion. 

“Let’s give her some rest,” Jean turned to the screens. “She’ll be out for a while, and we all need to rest. We’ll know more tomorrow.” 

They left the infirmary one by one and headed back to their rooms. The last two people who remained were Storm and Logan. Both of them stayed by the unconscious woman. “I cannot believe someone did this to her,” she said. 

“I think she escaped some lab,” said Logan. “When she was conscious, she didn’t believe I wanted to take her to a safe place. She wanted me to kill her.”

“It’s a good thing you brought her here, Logan,” Storm patted his shoulder. 

Logan’s eyes kept travelling around the woman’s face, taking in her hair and their colour. “For now, we can only guess what happened. But, fuck, she looked like she escaped hell.” 

. . .

White light, so bright it hurt her eyes. It was painful to open her eyes. She slowly got used to it by rapid blinking. The white turned into silver, then steel-blue, until the first outlines appeared. Her ears registered a steady beeping sound. Where the hell was she? What happened? What was this palace? Panic started to rise inside her chest. Her body started to shiver.

There was a man who promised to take her to a safe place. How could she trust a stranger?

Fuck, it was hard to breathe. The beeping sound fastened. She ended up locked somewhere. Again. It was another lab - she was sure of it. 

A woman’s face appeared above her. She had short white hair and a smile on her face. Weird. “It’s okay, you are safe,” were the first words she heard. “Calm your breathing. You are in distress.”

“W-what-”

“You are safe now. No one is going to hurt you here,” the woman had a soothing voice. 

“W-where am I?” she whispered with fear. Her whole body was shaking. Tears threatened to escape her eyes.

“You are in a school for mutants,” she explained. 

“School?” 

“Yes, school. It is not a lab or some kind of crazy facility. We have children here who are like us, special.” 

A school for mutants, she repeated inside her head. New emotion came to her face - confusion. “I don’t understand. W-who are you?” 

“My name is Ororo Munroe,” she introduced herself. “But they also call me Storm.” 

She tilted her head to the side. “Storm?” 

“I have weather-manipulating abilities,” she said with a smile. “What’s your name?” 

 She took a deep breath. “My name is Y/N Y/L/N,” she introduced herself, eyes never leaving Ororo’s dark ones. Y/N sat up carefully. 

It had to be a lab. There were monitors and displays with data. Her eyes lowered to her hands, and she saw an IV on top of her hand. Y/N realised her hands were not tied up. Was Storm telling the truth? 

“How are you feeling, Y/N? Do you need anything?” 

“Uh,” she tried to find the right words. “I’m tired, my whole body hurts, and I am confused.” 

“Give it a moment. It will all click together. I can promise you that,” said Storm. 

The door to the infirmary opened. An older man wheeled in on a modified wheelchair. Y/N’s eyes followed his every move. He was bald but dressed in a fancy suit. He had a gentle smile on his lips. 

“Y/N,” he said her name. 

She frowned, not expecting anyone to know her. It was alarming. “How do you know my name?” 

“Y/N, this is Professor Charles Xavier. He’s like us, a mutant. He has an all-powerful brain thanks to his telepathic powers,” Storm introduced the man to her. “He’s the headmaster of the school.” 

He approached the woman, gently touching her hand. “I am so sorry for your suffering, but please know you are safe here.” 

“Don’t…” she raised her hand. “Please, don’t read my mind.” 

“I’m sorry, my dear, I didn’t want to pry. It’s just that your thoughts were screaming so loud, it was impossible not to hear them,” Charles explained to her. “I will not talk about it. It is up to you to share your story.” 

Her shoulders dropped, and she relaxed. “Thank you.” 

“Now, let me tell you about this place,” he wheeled a bit farther away from her, observing the room as if he were there for the first time. “In this school, we not only teach children and help them learn their mutations, but we also accept fugitives and help them learn.” 

She tilted her head, wincing in pain. “Are you offering me a place to stay?” her voice was softer than before. 

“That is if you want to,” Charles nodded. 

It came as a shock. Tears appeared in her eyes. “I don’t have to run anymore?” she asked timidly.

“No, Y/N,” he smiled. “You are safe here, with us.” Charles wheeled back to the door, obviously pleased. “Welcome to the X-Mansion. If you need anything, come see me in my office.” And then he was gone. 

Y/N turned her head to Ororo, wiping off the tears that gathered in her eyes. It was all surreal. “I was expecting many things to happen, but not this.” And then, “Wait, but I have nothing. No money, no clothes. I can’t afford to stay here. I can’t give you anything.” 

Ororo stopped her. “Don’t worry about it. First, you need to get better. You still have bruises and wounds around your body that need to heal.”

Y/N’s hands shot up to her face, fingers grazing over scratches. Then, under her fingertips, she felt a bruise under her eye that hurt a little. Her eyes were looking for a mirror or a reflection. She needed to see the damage. Her mind wandered into her memories, looking back at what happened. For now, it was all a mush. Everything that had happened overlapped. She pressed fingers to her temple, massaging them. 

“You okay?” Ororo’s hand appeared on her shoulder. 

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, just a mild headache.” 

Half an hour later, she met more people - Dr. Jean Grey, who ran more tests on her. She X-rayed Y/N’s entire body just to be sure there was nothing broken. Later, she did a scan to see if there was any indication that would capture Y/N’s mutant power. 

When Y/N met Hank, she got scared. She never saw a mutant who looked like that - a blue ball of fur and monster claws. No, he was not a monster. He looked like a beast. “I’m sorry,” she quickly apologised. 

Hank was with Jean, looking at scans they made together. “Do you see that?” he asked, his thick blue finger pointing at the blue hue floating inside her body. “Have you seen anything like that before?” 

“No,” she said. “But it’s nothing, to be honest. It barely showed in the scan. It might not even mean anything.” 

“Or it can be everything,” Hank looked at Jean. “But I agree, so far we have nothing. She’ll be healthy in no time. But, we need to know what she can do.” 

After the tests, Ororo brought her a bathrobe and took her upstairs. It was a perfect time to walk around the mansion. All the kids were in their classes or outside, and no one was around. 

Y/N’s eyes wandered around the place. She couldn’t take in how massive the institute was. It carried the history and memories of so many people. Overall, in one word, this place was magnificent. “This is amazing,” she whispered. 

Ororo’s hands held her shoulder as they walked to the highest floor in the mansion. She opened one of the many doors. They belonged to a bedroom. “Is this yours?” Y/N asked. 

“No,” Storm closed the door. “This will be your room, Y/N. You have a bathroom here,” she pointed at the door beside the bed. “And a closet.”

“I thought that this was your room. It’s too nice.” 

Storm laughed. “I have my room on a different level. Here’s how it works: The students share bedrooms. The youngest are in groups of three to four. The older two to three. Adults like privacy, so they have a room for themselves.” 

Y/N nodded, understanding what she was saying. “Thank you.” 

After Storm gave Y/N instructions, she was left alone in the bedroom. She had to sit down on a bed to take it all in. They gave her a bed, hot water, and so much more. It seemed surreal. What if this was all a dream? She sat in silence, waiting for someone to wake her up with torture.

Five minutes passed, then ten and fifteen. Nothing happened. Maybe it was real. Y/N pinched herself, and it hurt. It is real. She went into the bathroom and took a shower. Everything was there - towels, soaps, shampoos. 

Surreal. 

Clothes were resting on her bed when she came out of the bathroom, wrapped in fluffy towels. There were jeans, socks, underwear, bras, t-shirts, sweaters, hell even shoes. There were only a few pieces from each item. Y/N pressed her fingers to her temples. She wanted to cry. How is it possible that her life turned upside down in less than a day? 

Once fully dressed, she opened the door and peeked into the hallway. No one was present. She walked outside, clean and fresh, ready to explore the place more. Her walk was careful and slow. Her fingertips touched everything she could reach - the wooden walls, the statues and the paintings. Her eyes were travelling around the place, taking it all in. 

What was fascinating was the portraits of Oscar Wilde, Jane Austen and other novelists. It brought her memories of when she would read books in her bedroom.

“You alright, kid?” 

That voice was familiar. It made Y/N turn her eyes to see a well-built man with unusual facial hair. She couldn’t deny he was handsome. She had to blink a few times. This man was the guy who got her here. As she observed him, the white tank top with a black flannel shirt over it, she tilted her head to the side. Damn.

“Yeah,” she said. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” he took a few steps closer to her. 

“You are the guy who brought me here,” she pointed a finger at him but quickly retracted it. “I’m sorry,” she shook her head. “I remember so little from that day.” 

“Well, tough night.”

There was a flash of memory from that night. His face, looking down at her, lips moving and saying something that she couldn’t quite comprehend. “Sorry for ruining your evening.” 

He chuckled. “You just happened to be in the right place at the right time.” 

She opened her mouth but then closed it. She didn’t know what to say. The man talked instead. “What’s your name, kid?” 

“Y/N,” she introduced herself.

“Logan.”

“Logan,” she whispered his name. “Nice to meet you. And thank you for saving my ass.”

He only nodded. “I should get goin’. I have a class to teach,” he said. 

She crossed her arms akimbo. “You teach? Here? In this school?” 

“What, is it that hard to believe?” he chuckled. 

“Actually, yeah. You don’t look like the guy who wants to teach kids,” she commented. “What do you teach?” 

“History and combat training.” 

Y/N opened her mouth but then made a face, perplexed. “Combat training?” Why would they teach combat training in a school? And then it hit her, to defend themselves if necessary. 

Logan walked past her, heading to the stairs. “I guess I’ll see you around.” 

She gave him a simple nod, and then he was gone. Y/N’s eyes had trouble pulling away from the spot she saw him. This Logan guy was a handsome man with a rough exterior. 

She continued walking through the long hallway until she found another set of stairs that she took to a lower level. She must have been walking like this for another thirty minutes until she came down to the entrance hallway. This place was indeed huge. 

She kept turning, trying to figure out which way to go next. A school bell started to ring. Another lesson was over. The doors opened, and kids of all ages walked out. There were so many of them. And they were all happy. They weren’t lying. This building was filled with them - from the youngest kids to teenagers. 

A paper plane flew before her eyes, steadily floating in the air. A boy used his ability to make them fly. Magical. 

Her eyes captured Storm walking with another man, chatting. It was probably another teacher. Y/N decided to wait for Storm and ask about the place some more until someone shouted: “Watch out!” 

Y/N spun on her heel. Her breath got lost when she found a fireball heading straight to her. Her hands immediately went up in the air. To protect herself, a veil of blue hue covered her whole being. It was a forcefield, and it absorbed the fireball. Y/N could feel the energy in her palms.

Why would anyone throw a fireball? That scared the shit out of her. The veil disappeared once the danger was gone, and her hands fell to her body. She took a few deep breaths. Her eyes caught a boy staring at her with big eyes. Was it him who did it? Impressive. 

“Did you see that?” 

“Who is she?” 

“What kind of power is that?” 

The students saw it all. They whispered about it while staring right at her. There were many of them looking and talking. The voices rang in her head. Just calm down, Y/N, she told herself. They are just kids. 

Storm’s eyes were wide and sparkling with excitement. She was fast enough to run to her. “Forcefield,” she exclaimed. 

Y/N twisted and turned on the spot, looking at everyone. All eyes were on her. It made her feel vulnerable. Her eyes caught Logan standing at the stairs, observing. She couldn’t read his face. 

“Everyone back to your classes,” Logan ordered the students. 

“Amazing,” Storm commented. “We were wondering what your power was.” 

Y/N’s eyes widen. She’d never heard someone say that to her. Creep! A woman’s voice screamed inside her head. Murderer! Psychotic bitch! She wrapped her hands around herself, taking a step back. It all came back again. 

“Hey, hey,” Storm put her hands on her shoulders. “You don’t have to hide here. We are all the same. The students were surprised by your ability.” 

Come to my office, Y/N, she heard in her head. She spun on her heel to look around, trying to find the source of the voice. 

“I think I heard the… the Professor,” she said.

“He’s in his office. That way,” Storm turned Y/N to the right side. There was a hallway leading to a big wooden door. 

Y/N managed to catch Logan’s eyes looking at her before he left. He was something else - that’s how she could describe it. 

Hesitantly, she walked over to the door, ready to knock, when she heard the Professor telling her to come in. As said, she opened the door and walked inside. She was met with the older bald man, still wearing fancy clothes. 

“Take a seat.” 

Y/N sat on a brown leather armchair. The place smelled like wood and books. There were lots of them. The armchair was comfortable. Her back was straight, and her body was stiff, always ready to run if necessary. 

“I would like to know more about your mutation,” he wheeled closer to her. 

“What do you want to know?” 

He smiled. “Anything you’d like to share with me. I know I can look, but I don’t want to pry.” When he saw the distrustful look, he chose different words. “The more we know about your power, the better we can train you. We can give you more information about your mutation.”

“How can I know you won’t use it against me?” 

Charles nodded. “You don’t. We will need to build the trust together.” 

“Before I answer you,” she took a deep breath. There were some questions, and she needed answers. “What exactly do you do here?” 

The man sighed. “What you see is true - this is a school. There was an idea it would become a mixed school for mutants and humans. That never came to life. Now, it is a safe place for mutant kids, disapproved by the regular society. I find children around the States, and we bring them here - if they want to. Occasionally, we give adults a place to stay, like we did for you.” 

It was sincere. Charles wasn’t lying. She could feel it. “This ability showed when I was around 15. I know that it can protect me when I am in danger. I can sense the energy in my hands when I let it out. I can’t protect another person if you are wondering.”

“But…” he goaded. 

“I killed with this burst of energy. I hurt people with it. I believe you saw it, didn’t you?” 

Charles nodded. “Yes, I did. You can create a protective force field that keeps you out of danger. For example, what happened minutes ago, the fireball one of the students accidentally threw at you.”

She frowned at him, not liking what he was saying. “Then why did I kill with it?”

“There is an explanation to it. From what I saw-” 

“When I asked you not to look,” she cut his speech. 

“I apologise, Y/N. It is not my intention to hurt you or be nosy. As I already told you, your thoughts and memories were screaming, mixing inside your head. The door was open, and I only peeked in.” 

She closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths to calm down. “You saw it all?” 

“No,” he shook his head. “But enough to have a picture. As I said, it is your story to tell, Y/N.” 

“What you saw?” 

“The day you used your power for the first time.”

It was a moment, a three-second glimpse into her past, but she was back in her child's room, messing with her then-boyfriend. And then, they were arguing when it happened. The force that escaped her body killed the boy and destroyed half the house she once lived in. 

“If we want to know more, we must see what you can do. Flyrokinesis is the ability to create and manipulate force fields. It is mostly defensive. However, there can be some offensive moves done with it. This mutation is exceptional.” 

She cocked a brow, not sold on it. 

“We can help you learn and work with your ability. That is if you want.” 

No one is forcing you to stay, Y/N. The choice is up to you. His voice was in her head again. 

No more running, no more experiments or killing. Y/N could choose her life. Out of everything that had happened in her life, this, so far, seemed like the best thing that could have happened to her. Fucking trust issues. 

“We have everything you need and more,” Charles wasn’t using his telekinesis. “You don’t have to worry about anything.” There was a smile playing on his lips. “No more running.”

“No more running,” she repeated. 

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#388

“Hey Larry, so this is the faggot I texted you about.  He was lost a couple nights ago and came knocking on my door…. 

“Get this!  I’m watching my porn—you know the five-on-one gangbang of that Russian bitch.  She’s about 5 feet, and each of the guys are like fucking linebackers, and each with gigantic cocks.  They are smacking her around and shoving their cocks into her holes whether or not there’s already a dick in there.  At one time she had two cockheads in her mouth, one in her cunt, and one in her shitter.  The fifth guy was fucking her tits.  I love her.

“I’m going to town on my cock.  The bottle of lotion almost empty.  It’s an all night pud pounding session for sure.  Then there’s a knock at the door.  It’s eleven-thirty at night!  I pull up my shorts, that’s the only I have on. 

“I open the door and this faggot is standing there soaking wet; it had stopped raining then.  And he tells me he ran out of gas with his dead phone, and he was walking to get help.  He came across the Miller Road bridge; it was washed out.  He thought the Reed River was shallow.  Fucker got swept away.  He was walking around for hours before he found my road and me. 

“All the while he’s telling me this, he keeps staring at my hard-on tenting in my shorts.  You know that once I get a hard-on going, that it takes a long time for it to go down.  Well it was rock hard, and I didn’t care.

“So when the fag asked if I would help him, I grabbed my cock through my shorts and demanded, ‘Strip!’  I walked back to my chair and shouted, ‘Leave your wet faggy clothes on the steps and get in here and give me some head.’  The bitch did just that.  You know how hard it is for me to find a good woman who knows how to blow my fat hog.  This faggot throated me without any struggling.  He was taking me the way that Russian bitch was taking those five men in the video. 

“Just like she was getting slapped, I decided to give that a try.  Oh my god, here watch this.

“I just snap my fingers and point down, and there, just like that, the faggot comes over and kneels in front of me.

“This cocksucker can take one slap after another.  And I’m not holding back.  I���m giving him way worse than I used to hit Paula.  For her it was one slap.  I’ve already given him a dozen swats here.  But listen to what he says when I stop….

“Did you hear that?  The faggot said, ‘Thank you Sir.’  Can you believe that?  It’s grateful for me treating it like shit.  No matter what I do to him, he’s game.

“In the video after the guys nutted on her face and tits, they pissed on her.  I thought, well why not.  I pushed him off my cock.  I grabbed him by his hair and dragged him out of the trailer.  I pushed him out and he fell to the ground.  I went up to him and started pissing on his face.  And the faggot tried to catch it in his mouth!  He wanted to drink my piss.

“Watch this.  All I have to do is take out my cock and aim it at his mouth and he opens up his toilet mouth.  Oh man this is nice.  When I get done with his mouth, give him a try. 

“So, the other night, when I first pissed on him, it was a long piss, and I was pissing through a hard on.  After I was done, I kicked him.  He recoiled, but in doing so he had his ass up in the air.  It reminded me of the Russian porn star.  I had a hard on, and I just did it.  I shoved my fat cock and fucked the faggot hard.  I could tell he wasn’t ready.  It’s a good thing that the closest neighbors are half a mile away.  He was screaming like a bitch. 

“After I unloaded my balls into his shitter, threw him into Angel’s old kennel, gave him a blanket, and locked the cage.  There was no way I was going to have a stray fag in my trailer while I’m asleep. 

“You want to use his toilet mouth?  You have been telling me that I should get a good woman and have a faggot on the side to fuck.  You have that now, right?  You ever encounter a piss drinker or one you can slap around?...

“Let him suck on you afterwards.

“So yesterday morning, I took his car keys from his stuff I locked away and went looking for his car.  Found it fairly easy.  Yeah, he was telling the truth; he was out of gas.  I went through his bags.  It looks like he was driving to Chicago for that leather convention.  I brought back his suitcases, mostly full of toys.  I don’t know what the hell half of them do.  A number of dildoes.  The one that’s in his shitter right now is one with a dog tail on the other end.

“He told me he’s into something called ‘puppy play’.  I told him that he’s not fucking my dogs.  He told me he likes being treated as a dog and that being thrown into the kennel was a dream come true.  He put on this hood in the shape of a dog, and I couldn’t stop laughing.  I told him I would treat him like a dog, just without the mask.  I told him that he’ll be kept naked except for the dog tail.  I told him that I just wish that I didn’t have to look at his pecker. 

“And you know what he did?  He took out this tiny contraption.  It’s on his pecker right now.  It keeps his junk locked up so he can’t play with it or even get hard.  Look at it! There’s a padlock on it.  The faggot gave me the key!.  Never even thought of anything like this was even done. 

“Back on my dick.

“He was going to go to Chicago for the week, but he said that he would rather stay here with me and be treated like a dog.  I’m like fine.  I keep him naked, he eats his meals from a bowl on the floor, he sleeps in the kennel out back or on the dog mat beside my bed, and he’s not allowed to talk other than the thank you’s.  I put a shock collar on him like I do all my dogs, and he got so horned up.  He is one sick puppy. 

“He gives a great blowjob doesn’t he?  You were right, a faggot on the side is what men need to have to deal with bitch wives.  If I had this faggot, Paula would probably still be with me.

“Too bad, on Tuesday he’ll head on back home.  I doubt I will get to find out what all those toys were.  You know what was weird?  In his trunk, he had a toilet seat on legs.  That’s it over there.  I’m going to keep it.  You know for when we go fishing at the lake.  If we have to take a dump, instead of walking half a mile to use the one at the bait and tackle shop, or to squat in shrubs.  Now we can just sit and let go.

“Faggot, why are you grinning at me like that?  You are chuckling  Don’t you ever laugh at me.  I ought to take my belt to you.  You need to learn some manners.  You…

“…What are you trying to say?  No. No.  I told you that dogs don’t speak….  Where are you going pup?

“The toilet seat with legs?  OK.  So what?

“What the fuck?  What the hell are you doing?  Why are you crawling under…?

“…No!  Oh my fucking god.  Oh. My. God.  You want me to sit on that toilet seat with your face underneath? 

“Larry, have you ever done this?...

“…Wait, you have had a fag stick his tongue in your shitter?  I’ve seen bitches flick their tongue across a man’s ass in the pornos, but this faggot seems to want his tongue to go inside.

“Look at him.  He’s giddy.

“Larry, would you ever sit on the faggot’s face?...  You would? Ok.  I’m going to trust you on this. 

“OK faggot, you are going to be sorry….  Last chance to back out before you get smothered in my nasty crack.  I have no idea as to how clean it is, but fuck, you don’t seem to care.

“Good lord this seat is low.  How the hell…

“…Oh.  Oh.  Oh my god.  Jeeze!  Ahhhhh.  Wow.  Why the fuck did I have to wait this long to discover this?  Holy shit.  This is amazing.

“Larry.  No woman would do this…. I just can’t believe…  Damn, my dick is rock hard.  Hey, go into the trailer, or wherever, I want to take some time, enjoying this.  We’ll talk later.

“Pup, keep up doing what you are doing….  Mmmmm.  You know what?  Does this seat work the same if I turn it around.  I would prefer not to look at your body in front of me.

“Ugh!  Getting up from one of these things is a bitch.  Let’s move it to the edge of the concrete step.  There.  Now that’s at a better height.  Now I have my phone to watch some porn.  Here comes my shithole.

“Oh man.  This is the best.  You sure know how to make a man feel good.  You let me do what I want.  I said you are to go home on Tuesday.  Now, I want you to stay longer.  I want this tongue in my shithole pretty much all the time.

“That fart just slipped out….  Did you just moan? 

“Oh pup!  Let’s fucking do this….”

[fictionalslvr]

SYNOPSIS: Leon hated you, but even more, hated himself. The pure anger growing because of his selfish mind. He was just jealous, jealous you were younger and prettier. But his chest couldn't help himself. Not on this case.

PAIRING: Vendetta¡Leon x Younger agent¡Reader

WORD COUNT: 1.148k.

WARNINGS: Age gap, but reader is +18! (Not really Enemies) to lovers, not use of y/n, based on the lyrics of "Cigarette Daydreams - Cage the Elephant"

Vorfreude:(n.) The joyful, intense anticipation that comes from imagining future pleasures.

NOTES: I'm trying really hard to get out of this writer block, so I'm writing slowly. This is just the start of what can turn into a series, so tell me if you guys like to motivate me to continue writing!

“You can drive all night…”

Leon really could. On nights like this, when the stars aren't visible in the obscure sky, his hands would grip on the steering wheel and drive towards nothing. He's definitely wrong for doing that. Driving while being drunk. Barely recognizing anything on the road, the semaphore lights look like a beam that irritates his eyes. Those same eyes who used to shine brighter than that. Those damn eyes who used to look bigger. Those same eyes who are now tired, exhausted, spent, worn out, every single synonym you could search up for to describe those parts he couldn't recognize anymore on himself. He's now nearly forty, and he never imagined this. The younger and pure him would always thought that forty was the age of success, where he would be resting all day, without work to do, without people in his mind, without worries, nothing to worry about. Silly him for thinking that.

“Lookin' for the answers in the pourin' rain…"

He never had his answers, never even had one. He would always question himself, like why he's alive and most of his friends dead. This wasn't a bit fair, and not a single fair for that big rounded younger Leon. When he looks to the past, he hopes he gets blind to not see those things again. Forget everything that happened, the days he spent in pure automatic, the bad things he said, the disgusting things he saw and had to participate in. Leon used to think that things would get better, when it didn't.

“You wanna find peace of mind

Lookin' for the answer

If we can find a reason, a reason to change

Lookin' for the answers

If you can find a reason, a reason to stay

Standin' in the pourin' rain…”

That poor old dog had his reasons to stay. Some reasons even seem foolish, like taking care of his dog. He always thought what his dear four-legged friend would do without him, he would probably die, and he can't let this happen. The big Irish Setter called Luis was a gift from Ashley after some years, she said it was to help them to deal with what happened in Spain. The blond was septic at first, and refused to call a damn dog as Luis. But they were very similar. Those eyes followed him everywhere, the way his fur looked like his hair, and soon…he found himself calling him that way he promised not to. It was stupid. But that stupid act helped. Leon felt like Luis was with him all the time, that his friend were there on his side. And he caught himself chatting with the animal, telling him how the day was tiring, and he seemed to understand everything, practically paying attention to his words. He would sniff Leon, place his snout below his hands to earn some caresses and help him forget the subject quickly. He sure is a clever dog, and he rapidly got attached to the pet, or better saying, his friend. Now, the man would enter his house and found the old dog running to him, jumping on his legs to earn his attention. And that futile act would take out a sincere chuckle out of him, only he could do that.

Old as he is now, he asked the D.S.O to work less. And as he worked so much for them, they granted it. Letting him do little jobs, more like a detective. And that only earned him more headaches. Specifically saying, one headache of a woman, his partner that he despises so much. That voice of yours would get into his brain and annoy him.

—”You drank last night again, right? I can see you're not looking well.”

That got him rolling his eyes up every time, groaning in bitterness. Why would you care about him that much? You never did, and he knows it. You were so much younger, so much brighter, so much like him in the past, and he hated this. You were always such a tease, that damn smile plastered on your face like he wasn't worthy of that happiness. Leon hates you. With the depths of his heart, his repugnance about you is real, and he knows himself enough for that. He just doesn't understand. But he thinks he does, and silly him for thinking that.

His true impliccance to you is your happiness. You can't be happy if he isn't, that's obvious. He started to dig why you're happy and he's not. In the serious cases you were alongside with him, you never took it one hundred percent seriously, you would make jokes all the time and he would just ignore. But deep inside, he was holding himself not to laugh.

—”Damn, where's everyone going?” — Leon looked behind, watching you circle on your place, searching for human sights.

—”Bingo.”

And his answer came out of nowhere. So suddenly you didn't expect it. That took a single giggle of you, your eyes squinting as you shook your head to it.

—”Yeah, okay old man.”

He found himself proud, proud that his same old joke made some effect. Even if it was on someone he hated it. Leon sighed softly, turning back to his place and wondering if you would find his other jokes funny. You were always laughing, so it would be easy to make you laugh. But that wasn't the time for it, and neither was important. Leon quickly got back to his serious face and focused on the mission. But you, you were surprised to see such a side of him, even a fraction of it. He never was the one talking to you, and you just thought he was the serious old man you heard of. And honestly, you heard a bit of his story, of his mades and how impressionnant he is. But you would never admit it, because that would be invasive, and you're not prepared to understand his pain.

But Leon is a bad liar, a really bad one. And he couldn't lie to himself, couldn't lie when his hurt hung to each other, not when his pupils dilated without his consent every time, not when his hands started to sweat or the words slipped out of his tongue incontrollably. He knew this was love, in the most bad time to come in, and the most bad person to fell in love, but there's no denial. The problem is, Leon Kennedy is also not going to accept it easy, so that's a big problem from now on. Even bigger if the problem is you, the so annoying rookie that's he's slowly wishing you two are on the same mission, the same rookie that laughs of his stupid jokes, that rookie that brings some desserts some times and he pretends not to like. That damn rookie.

[derehono]

24.02.2022.

The day that changed my life forever.

24th of February 2022 should have been my usual day. No, not usual. A wonderful day. I should have been checked with a doctor, gave notice to teachers in high school of my absence, and then fly away on vacation, my parents wanted it so much.

On 23rd of February 2022 I felt happy. I had a secure, happy life, preparing to finals, hanging out with my friends, already having an offer from university.

Until 5AM 24.02.2022.

I had not a single class in my school since then.

I haven’t seen my friend group in 2 years.

I didn’t have my finals.

We did not have that vacation.

“Daughter, wake up. This old psychotic man attacked us. We are leaving.”

That was my first photo of the day, trying sarcastically keep myself normal. I remember that actual emptiness, reading my classmates texts about how their windows were shaking because of explosions, the sky was orange. They sent that video.

He called it “a special military operation”.

I collected random clothes, some hobby stuff just to keep my sanity, grabbed my pet, emptied my safety locker. I was scared that russians would intrude into our home and steal all my savings, so I throw away key to that lock. This key became my symbol of war, I have never found it even after return.

When I with my parents and pet got out of flat to car we heard for the very first time air raid siren. We would hear so many more of them, we would learn to differentiate them, but then we were confused.

It was my second photo. People were going away. Foot, cars, bicycles. I remember such a surreal picture. Some moms were carrying their toddlers, one woman was carrying a bucket of water with turtles, other people were carrying cages with parrots, with dogs, with cats, with exotic pets despite air raid siren, temperature, rain. Everyone was so confused and scared.

Few days later the road we were riding was occupied. Bridges destroyed. Factories burnt. Supermarkets demolished. Houses in ruins. Road in holes. On the side of the road burnt cars with “DO NOT TOUCH, POSSIBLY EXPLOSIVE”. That gut wrenching feeling seeing photos of dead bodies and recognising the place.

But back then it was still lively, not a road of death. I remember reading news then. First victims, first shelling. Invasion from East. Invasion from Kharkiv region. Invasion from Crimea. Invasion from Chernihiv. Invasion from Zhytomyr. And we were in Zhytomyr region at that moment. Explosions in Kyiv. The border was destroyed.

I felt nothing. Just emptiness.

This precious girl was keeping my head cool all the road. She was also scared and irritated, but she was so strong, such an amazing girl. I am so proud of her.

We were heading to my grandparents who lived closer to West Ukraine, so we would be safer. The road that takes usually just 4 hours but that time it took 13 hours. 13 hours of driving exhausted and nerved. We saw soldiers, trucks, jets, how barricades were built, signs were removed.

But we made it. We were lucky. Lucky to be alive, to have family alive and mostly close to West, further from russia. Even though, part of my extended family still was under occupation in Chernihiv region, suffering from such close border with belarus.

When we arrived, we were just silent. Then collected mattresses for shelter, asked grandpa to grab some patrol (we knew that they would definitely destroy reservoirs and literally next day the started doing that), and just fell asleep in something that we arrived in, being so scared.

That day I also cut ties with russian friend who I am shamed to admit having. He was proving me that this is just a military operation, no one would be harmed.

Then, arrived spring that I will never forget but at the same time never remember. I remember 10 people in one floor house. I remember the whistle of rocket that woke us up. I remember sirens. I remember news. I remember losing hope. I remember first photos after deoccupation of Kyiv region. I remember how forgotten friend of my dad suddenly called him saying that his city is fully destroyed, his neighbour right on his eyes was exploded attempting to get into the car and evacuate.

I remember my first mental breakdown. How I was crying in the darkness, but quietly so no one would notice.

We were able to return home three months later. But we are just lucky. Someone would never return. Someone is not even alive to see their home again. Someone’s home is forever destroyed.

I was lucky that I have secured my place at foreign university before war, but my whole family is still in Ukraine.

War is not over at all. 20% of Ukraine is occupied. So many displaced civilians, so many deaths. No one could even count, we do not have any access to bodies. Only way to identify is to deoccupy and find mass graves. No other means. Children are suffering from PTSD even in such a young age. Almost in every city, big or small, you would find graveyards covered in Ukrainian flag, grave of the soldier.

Maybe media does not talk that much of us, but it doesn’t mean that everything is alright. Avdiivka is destroyed, right now operation searching for people under debris of the civilian house after attack is undergoing.

And this is happening all the time.

Who was punished for Olenivka? Who was punished for destruction of Kakhovka Dam? Who was punished for all fully destroyed cities? Who was responsible for all that absolutely atrocious videos torturing Ukrainian soldiers?

Please, remember, Ukraine is still on fire. People are still dying. Soldiers cannot even counterattack because they do not have enough ammo, just for protection. Information war is also waging, sharing all that misinformation, Nazi narratives, russian propaganda.

Remember.

Help.

Share.

russia is a terrorist state.

Glory to Ukraine.

Glory to the Heroes.

[monayen]

"Ku-Ku." | Randal Ivory

➷ Paring - Randal Ivory x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - Noncon, Master/Pet play, cunnilingus, fingering, slight bloodplay, unsafe sex, pain

a/n - randal brainrot, i adore this lil freak :3 first fic on this blog btw !! requests open (check my pinned) also ignore any mistakes

Luther Von Ivory scans his options presented to him, there are many animals, but he's looking for something specific. A human. He actually didn't know what his brother preferred in humans, but he's sure Randal wouldn't question Luther’s wonderful taste.

The employee gets to you, “She just came in.” He sees you kick around in the cage you were in, “Let me out! I’m not an animal!” Luther sticks a long finger through the bars of your enclosure. He winces when he feels you chomp down on it, quickly drawing it back.

“Are you sure this isn't a dog? I much prefer cats if that's the case.”

“She's a full blooded human! Trust me, found her hitchhiking on the side of the road myself.”

“Hm, okay then. I’ll take her.” Luther’s lucky he kept a sedative in his car. You’ll get trained later.

Randal basically squeals when he sees you, immediately pulling you out of the box and into his arms. For however drugged up you were, you could make out what they were saying perfectly.

He shook you, “Brother, you really didn't!”

“I did. Isn't she pretty?”

“Yeah! I like the way her eyes droop, the drool is a great touch too.”

“That's not permanent, Randal.”

“Oh.” He pauses, “Well, her name is (Y/N).” You can barely mumble as you make out blurry beady eyes staring at you through thick rimmed glasses, “I want…to go… h…home.”

A bizarre giggle escaped his lips, ku ku? “Don't be silly, you are home now.”

You decided to just sleep.

Soon, you had to wake up. And when you do, you see you’ve been put in a frilly, black dress. It’s short sleeved with a white bow on the v-neckline, lace detailing follow the curve of your waist. You notice matching thigh-high black socks on you as well, though you didn't have on any shoes.

You are sober enough to note the room. Posters hang on the wall, all odd anime things, along with creepy dolls littering around that stare. It then hits you that you are sitting in a cushioned coffin.

Holy shit. This is some freak shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Before you can fully get up, the door slams open. “You’re awake!” It's the boy, Randal. You scream and jump back, falling back onto carpeted floor. Suddenly, he’s on top of you.

“Nyon reeeaaaallllyyyy got you in some cute clothes! You look like a doll! Very lifelike.” He seems to hum out the words as he straddles your hands to the side of your head.

“I want to go home! Let me go home!” You thrash beneath him, but he's freakishly strong for someone so lanky. His grip tightens on your wrists. “Nuh-uh. We bought you. Legally, you are mine.”

He keeps that toothy smile on his face, “Anyways, you were on the side of the road. You really didn't have a family, did you?” Randal laughs his weird laugh again while you stare at him with wide eyes, “Exactly what I thought!”

He doesn't loosen his grip as he brings his mouth down to lick your ear. You clamp up, “Don't… don't do that.” It comes out meekly, and though Randal isn't that intimidating in size, you feel dwarfed.

“Ah, I can train you however I want. I’m your master, remember?” Randal’s breath feels hot on the side of you before he licks you again, this time on your neck. “How about you say it? Say that I’m your master.”

You choke on a sob you didn't realize you were holding in as he murmurs into your ear, “Hey, listen to me.” Randal’s noticeably becoming more aggravated, his gloved nails are digging into your wrists now. He still keeps that terrible smile on his face.

With burning skin, you whisper, “You're… you’re my master…” Randal twists your wrists, “Louder for me.”

You cave in, “You're my master!” Finally, the pressure on your wrists is gone. He laughs again, moving one hand down to your waist while the other rests on your thigh. “Ku-ku, I like that!”

He fiddles with the side of your dress, slowly hiking it up to where your thighs and panties are fully exposed for him, the red on his face deepens. “You really are so so pretty! Soft, like a human pillow, so soft. I just wanna eat you.” He breathes heavily, “I just might.”

There's something prodding at the fabric on your thigh, he pulls them apart without much hesitation. “Please, don't.” Again, it’s quiet. He coos at your small plea, “Pets have to listen. Now, lift your ass.”

Finally, you're exposed to him. The dress is discarded next to you, along with your underwear. You want to curl up, hide, cover, anything. You can't. His grasp is too firm, and truthfully, you are scared. He doesn’t care to hurt you. He sees you as a pet, his human. That is your biggest flaw

Gloved fingers find your cunt, prodding at your entrance. Randal fiddles with the fly of his pants, pulling himself out. He strokes himself lazily, eyes glued to the sight of his fingers sinking into your pretty pussy. A small moan forces it way out of you, he has long fingers– like his brother. Soon, he’s knuckle deep, face inches from your slick heat.

“Hah, you're dripping!” You can't bare to look at him, head tilted in the air as you huff at the good

feeling. You aren't prepared when he suddenly sticks his tongue between your thighs. Oh. That gets a long moan out of you, “Nooo–”

Randal smirks, savoring your taste as he sloppily laps his tongue around his fingers and against your cunt. He can't help himself but jerk off his aching cock, getting off to your noises. He’s tasting you, but he wants more.

It feels like hours, but it's probably only been a few minutes that he’s been eating you out. It's creditably sloppy, drool drips down between you and you know he isn't great at it– but the eagerness makes a knot build in your abdomen. A loud moan mixes with your pleas when that knot snaps. You let go a pitched breath when he finally separates his tongue and fingers from you, moving to hover atop of you.

“I was right, you taste amazing.” He’s catching his breath, grabbing his cock as he aligns it between you, “You’ll feel amazing.” You want to beg but you know he wouldn't listen, why would you? You're just a pet. A pet he can do whatever to.

He rubs against you, teasing his tip at your entrance. “You want it? You want me to fuck you?” The shade on his face is heavy, his glasses are foggy but you can still see the glint of lust behind them, staring right at you. He grabs your face to look at him, “Say it. Tell your master you want it.” Again, he digs his nails into your puffy cheeks.

“Please– please master…” He roughly ruts against you, the side of his length rubs against your clit as he groans, “Fuck yeah!” Randal pitches, loud moans pull out of him, grabbing your clothed legs and angling them to rest on his shoulders, finally sinking his whole length into you.

You swear you see blood drip from his nose when he forces himself in, but you can't focus on it, he’s already moving in and out.

God, he's loud. Louder than you even, he can't keep himself together, clearly in bliss with his mouth hanging open slightly. “Ooooh– perfect, perfect pet!” Randal folds you, positioning roughly. He's trying to reach the deepest parts of you, he isn't concerned how your legs sting at the stretch. He's too focused on the way your tits bounce up and down, hypnotizing him to go deeper, faster.

You really are perfect, tight and wet around him. He wants to keep staring into your big, teary, eyes. It all aches him to get closer to you. He wants to fully consume you. For him to become a part of you. No, scratch that. You become a part of him.

“Hah, hah, you make your master feel soooo good.” He licks your tears, making you attempt to pull slightly from him, but he doesn't allow that to happen. Instead, he makes sure to fold you more, knees pressed against your chest in a way that makes you even tighter around him.

He’s speeding up, babbling about how good you feel. You feel like you can't even get a breath in now, it's hard to expand your lungs with your legs and Randal’s weight so close to your chest. Red blood drips onto your face and you look to see the pure lust Randal has spread across his face. You want to reach and wipe the blood so badly, feeling how it drips so closely to your mouth. Randal beats you to it first, gripping your face again and wiping his blood around with his thumb.

He laughs, smearing it across your face. Then, he tightens his grip again, his blood covered thumb rests on your quivering bottom lip, “Open up, doll.” You grit your teeth, trying to turn but his grasp locks you in place. “Ah, you should listen to your master.” You relent. “Good girl, ku-ku. I know you bite– don’t even try.” Then, he sticks his whole thumb in your mouth, rubbing it on the back of your tongue to make sure you taste the iron. You want to gag and bite, but you know you can't.

Randal finally draws his gloved thumb from your mouth, his blood replaced with your saliva. “Fuck– you feel so good, you me to come outside or inside? You– ah, tell me.” He’s twitching inside you, and quickly you shake your head, “No–”

“Kidding, I'm coming inside!”

Your stomach turns, and you hate the knot in your abdomen that makes you tighten around him, helping him come undone inside of you. He’s pumping white before you can even refuse, snapping his hips against you so hard you're sure you might bruise.

It's hard to tell how long it's been when Randal finally pulls out of you. You feel him drip down your sore legs, dampening your thigh-high socks. He eventually gets off on top of you as you both catch your breath. You lay on the carpet, a sticky and full sensation swallows you whole.

Randal has the nerve to snuggle next to you, wrapping his arms around your bare waist and burying his face into your neck. The smallest sob gets stuck in your throat, there isn't any way to get out of this, is there?

“Sh, just go to sleep. You have more training later.” Ku-ku.

[orions-choker]

Animals (Werewolf! James Hetfield x Reader Fluff)

Werewolf! James Hetfield, Fluff, Domestic moments.

Word Count: 3,770

Reader works at a vet clinic, just when she's sure she has seen it all come through those doors she's met with the oddest looking wolf she's ever seen. (Cross posted to AO3)

This is a very quick and probably not fantastic Werewolf James fluff. I just had this silly idea in my head and wanted to write it down quickly so apologies this isn't the best thing I've ever written <3

Being a veterinarian in a rural town meant one saw a lot of odd things. Coming through those doors were sometimes wild deer, cows, hawks, owls, you name it. However Y/N had never treated a wolf before, let alone a wolf quite so big.

“How did you say you found this guy?” She asked, concern in her voice as she pet across the animals side gently, simultaneously soothing the creature and searching for any egregious wounds hidden in the thick fur. It was breathing shallowly, hardly conscious as it lay across her cold examining table.

The old farmer standing in the room with her shrugged, the smell of his chewing tobacco fragrant in the air as his teeth clacked together. “Laying in the ditch just down the road ere’” His twang was a little thicker than her own, though she understood him easily enough. “Seemed pretty beat up. unno’ I figured I should bring him in.”

She nodded slowly, leaning over to pry the beast's eyes open gently, she watched as the pupils slowly followed her movements, a good sign. Aside from that she noticed its eyes were strikingly blue, captivating in an odd way. “Thank’s Kenny, we’ll take care of him from here, get home it's getting late.” She dismissed him kindly. Y/N stood up, turning her back to the table to grab IV supplies.

Kenny, the farmer, grunted in acknowledgment, shutting the door to the examination room behind him. The heavy thud of his boots grew distant until she could no longer hear them. She turned around, holding the small needle attached to the drip bag in her hands. “C’mon boy, let's get you feeling better.” She smiled sweetly.

It was some hours later that Y/N had found the cause, luckily no serious wounds but a fractured leg and some slight malnutrition. Poor guy looked like he had been abandoned by his pack. With the bandage wrapped around the offending leg she pulled the wheeling bed outside. It took three members of staff to gently move the sedated wolf into one of their outside kennels for wild animals.

Y/N grunted as she clicked the gate close, pulling on the lock. “We’ll keep an eye on him for a bit, maybe get in touch with a rehabilitation center.” She huffed out to one of her techs. Dusting her hands off on her scrubs. “Odd looking wolf though don't you think?” She asked, looking over the hulking mass of dusty blonde fur.

“Yeah, maybe it's part albino?” Her vet tech supplied with a shrug, following after her into the building once more.

By the time she had finished cleaning up and completing the necessary paperwork it was near midnight. Y/N had long since sent the rest of the staff home, assuring them she could close up here by herself. She decided to do one last set of rounds, checking on all the current patients she had, her final stop being the wolf. To her surprise he was awake.

“Hey buddy, how are you feeling?” She asked sweetly, crouching down in front of the cage he was sitting in. The wolf eyed her curiously, unmoving from the spot it lay in, on top of a soft but old and worn blanket. “Still a little dazed huh? I’ll be back tomorrow okay?” She smiled with a tilt of her head. Its blue eyes followed her movements as she got back up to her feet, slowly turning and walking away.

Y/N couldn’t help but think of the creature all night, a mixture of curiosity and concern for its well being. Truly nothing could have prepared her for a wolf that big, despite the clear signs of undereating, she shuddered to think what it looked like when properly taken care of. She likened it to something like a fictional dire wolf.

In her dreams were those blue eyes watching her, and a boy, her age with wild blonde hair. Prophetic dreams weren’t her strong suit so by the time the sun crested the hills and woke her with its gently warm rays, she had forgotten about it.

The wolf was her first stop that day, a hunk of raw meat in her hands as she approached the enclosure. She noticed the way its large ears perked up, its nose high in the sky as it sniffed out the blood in the air. A good sign, it was still interested in eating.

“Hey boy.” She sang, stepping towards the metal bars. “How are you doing this morning, hungry?” She asked, holding the meat out between the bars with a pair of tongs. “Think you can try walking over here?” She hoped to gauge how bad the injured leg was.

It seemed annoyed? Giving her an almost comical side eye and pathetic snarl before slowly raising itself up. The steps it took towards her were slow, but unwavering, no wobbles or winces of pain. “That's a good boy.” She praised him gently. It prodded at the meat gently with its nose before opening its large jaws and snapping at the food.

The entire chunk was gone in a matter of seconds, the wolf devouring it like it hadn’t eaten in months. Y/N frowned. “You poor thing, there's more where that came from kay?” She watched with curious eyes as it licked at its lips, seemingly satisfied. Slowly it pressed its face to the bars, eyes wide and pitiful as it looked up at her.

Y/N was almost convinced, just for a moment, that this predator was nothing more than a big puppy. “Aww buddy, I can’t give you pets, you'll bite my hand off.” She shook her head at him. It whined at her slowly, as if it could understand the words she was saying. She frowned, looking down to the ground, spotting a stick laying by her feet.

Quickly she picked it up, reaching forward with it to scratch gently between the wolf's large ears. “That's the best I can do dude.” She chuckled, watching the way its tail thumped against the ground happily. “I’ll be back to check on you in a bit, keep yourself entertained.” She tossed the stick into the enclosure, the wolf's jaws snapping around it in an impressive catch. She stared in bewilderment before shaking her head and walking away.

“Do you think there's any chance in hell that this thing is some kind of wolf dog?” Y/N asked her team as she entered the building. “I might be going crazy but it seems domesticated.” She frowned, sitting down at her desk chair.

One of the fellow vets stared at her like she had grown a second head. “I've seen wolf dogs before, they’re smaller than a normal wolf, not bigger than them.” He said, placing a cup of coffee down in front of Y/N. “That thing is not domesticated I can promise you that, please dont get any funny ideas and try to cuddle the fucking thing.”

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle at that, taking a sip of the warm drink as she leaned forward. “I have a couple more brain cells than that, but seriously it seemed like it wanted pets and to play fetch?” She frowned, placing her elbows on the desk before her. “I wonder if some crazy person tried domesticating a pup and left it in the wild when they realized it wasn’t going to work.”

“Hmm possible I guess, but I think you’re just reading too much into it.”

He was probably right. Y/N sighed and shook her head. The rest of her day was terribly uneventful, which she supposed was good, less hurt animals was always a good thing. Still she couldn't shake the feeling of boredom. She had no excuse for staying late tonight but she did anyway.

Bidding farewell to the last receptionist she closed the door, turning the deadbolt before making her way to the back door that led out to the yard. The other enclosures were empty save for the final one at the end. Flashlight in hand she approached once more with an offering to the beast.

“You awake boy?” She called out as she rounded the corner. As she laid eyes upon the contents of the cage her flashlight and tongs clattered to the ground. The beam of the light still illuminated the inside and like a spotlight drew the attention to the boy that sat there. Naked, a loose bandage falling from his leg. Messy blonde locks and piercing blue eyes. “What the fuck.” She mumbled.

There was a sheepish smile on his face as he sat there, staring up at Y/N. His legs were crossed, hands placed to hide his more intimate parts. “Sorry, I can explain.” His voice was raspy, gruff but a little boyish. The next startling thing aside from this man suddenly sitting before her, was the fact this man also had a large set of protruding wolf's ears atop his head, and a huge tail that thumped against the ground just as the beast here before had.

Y/N was truly at a loss for words, standing frozen before the scene unfolding. “What. The. Fuck.” She finally managed to force out, taking a hesitant step backwards. Her eyes scanned over the enclosure for any signs of the animal she had come out here to see in the first place. “Who are you? How did you get in there?” She sputtered out. “I’m James.” He helpfully informed her, his ears laid flat against his head as he heard the panic in his voice. “You put me in here.” He scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Ahh man, how do you explain lycanthropy to someone.”

She blinked hard, was that supposed to be a joke? She scoffed “I know perfectly well about fucking werewolves.” her eyebrows furrowing. As much as she wanted to assume this was some horrible practical joke her staff was playing on her, she couldn’t deny the literal dog-like features he held. “Are you seriously telling me I was treating a werewolf and now I have a whole man locked up in the back of my vets office?”

The boy, James, that was his name. James' awkward smile returned. ‘Yeah I guess that's the gist of it.” A shiver ran over his bare body. “Hey you wouldn’t happen to have some clothes or something? It's kind of cold out here.”

Which is how she ended up with a half naked boy, wrapped up in a thick blanket in the passenger seat of her beat up 1980 Chevette. The hum of the radio being the only sound filling the tense car. “I think I have my dads old clothes in storage.” Y/N mumbled, eyes trained on the road ahead, hands stiff on the steering wheel.

James hummed awkwardly in acknowledgment. “Thank you again.” He drummed his fingers against the fabric of the blanket covering his thighs. She could see him staring at her from the corner of her eyes. His big blue puppy dog eyes seemingly admiring her like she was a hero.

Pulling into her garage Y/N shut the car off quickly. Waiting until the door shut behind them before opening the car door. She didn’t need any of her neighbors seeing her bring a strange naked dog boy back home. “You can come inside.” She mumbled awkwardly, pushing open the door that led into the main section of her home.

She didn’t need to tell him that, James had already been following her closely. Right on her heels. His blanket dragged behind him as he shuffled into the house.She frowned at him. “You know I think you could stand to have a shower too.” She could see the blanket moving wildly as his tail began wagging once more. “Over here,” She sighed.

Y/N gestured to the door leading to her bathroom. She shoved James inside gently, grabbing a towel from her linen closet. “Come out when you're done I should hopefully have some clothes for you.” She pushed the towel into his hands, ignoring the blush that rose to her cheeks as he smiled widely at her.

Quickly she backed out of the room as he began to drop the blanket covering him, pulling the door shut with a loud slam. Her chest heaved as she attempted to calm down her erratic breathing. While he had seemed like a well domesticated dog he certainly wasn’t a house trained human. Or maybe he was just like that.

The sound of the water heater humming to life and water pattering against the tile was her cue to find James some real clothes. She rummaged around in the back of her closet until she found something that looked approximately the right size. James was tall, big but lean just like the wolf had been, so she opted for some shorts over jeans and a plain loose fitting t-shirt. This would have to do for now.

Collecting the clothes in her arms she shuffled back into her living room, tossing them unceremoniously onto her couch. The sound of running water still echoed distantly down the hall so she took the moment to sit and contemplate.

She had treated a wolf, put the wolf outside, came back a day later to find a man there instead, and then brought the man home with her. The more she replayed the events in her mind the more it seemed completely unfathomable. She sat there, head hung low, hands tugging at her hair as she tried to rationalize it.

The house fell silent as the shower shut off. Her eyes drifted upwards at the sound of wet footsteps padded down the hall towards her. James rounded the corner, towel hung low around his waist, droplets of water running from his soaked hair down his lean chest and abdomen. Fuck, he was hot too wasn’t he. Y/N audibly groaned, tossing her head back against the couch.

“You okay?” He asked cautiously, walking forward to grab the pile of clothes from beside her. Y/N squeezed her eyes shut as James dropped the towel from his waist without a second thought. She waited until she no longer heard the ruffling of clothes before opening them again. The shorts were a little too short on him but otherwise everything fit just fine. “Y/N?”

“How do you know my name?” She asked curiously, she was positive she had not given him the courtesy of her name when they had their first introductions. She watched him as he moved to sit next to her on the couch, he grabbed the towel, using it to roughly dry his hair. Noticeably his ears and tail seemed to be gone now. “What's with the whole; wolf, half wolf half man, full man, thing you have going on?”

James smiled at her, yeah, yeah he was really cute. “It was on your nametag the other day.” He explained. He leaned back, body relaxing into the soft cushions on the couch. “Also that much is a little hard to explain, It’s just what my body does, you wouldn't try to explain the process of blood pumping in your veins to someone.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “That's hardly a good analogy.” She complained. She liked hard concrete answers, not wishy-washy bullshit. “It doesn't matter they don't train you for this thing in vet school.” She pulled her legs up onto the couch, resting her head atop her knees as she looked towards him. “Explain what led you here, why were you injured on the side of the road, why haven't you been eating?”

There was a hesitation in his eyes, silence following for a long moment. Gulping hard the blond finally spoke. “I got kicked out by my dad a couple years ago while I was still a teenager, I was couch surfing for awhile but I figured I needed to start fresh.” He seemed tense as he spoke. “Easier to cross the country on four legs rather than two, accidentally encroached on some guy's territory and got my shit kicked in, it had been a few weeks since I ate properly after that.”

“Are you hungry then?” Y/N asked sympathetically, feeling it wasn't her place to pry into the details of that story. She stood up from the couch, moving to the kitchen. James followed her closely, she didn’t comment on it. “Want some cold leftover pizza?” She hummed, throwing the door to her fridge open and rummaging around.

James peaked down at her from over the open door, excitement in his eyes as he nodded enthusiastically. “Thank you.” He eagerly took the pizza box from her hands, ripping it open to shovel the remaining slices into his mouth. “God Y/N, you’re the best.”

She couldn’t help the blush that stained her skin. She wasn’t sure what came over her next as she spoke. “Need a place to crash for a couple days?” The offer was out before she could take it back. Though at the way his eyes brightened, looking towards her, she was glad she offered.

“Are you really cool with that?” He asked around a mouthful of pizza.

Y/N sighed, defeated. “What can I say, I like helping out injured animals.” She joked lightly. Her heart fluttered at the way James cracked a smile at her. “I hope you don’t shed.”

–

A few days turned into a few weeks, weeks to a month. Truthfully she wasn’t keeping track anymore. She hated to admit it but she was lonely. Coming home each day to someone so eager to see her was definitely improving her overall quality of life.

James waited around eagerly for her every day, lounging across her sofa, usually half clothed. His presence in her home came in the form of old skate shoes by the front door, a guitar hanging above her bed, his dirty jeans and shirts piled in the corner of the bathroom each day. It felt more lived in.

“James!” She called out. She could hear the distant chattering of the t.v in the living room, a clattering of dishes alerting her to his location. She shuffled into the kitchen, body slumped over in exhaustion.

He eyed her worriedly as she came into view, quickly placing his plate down against the counter and coming to place a hand on her shoulder. “Long day?” He asked gruffly. A frown situated itself on his face.

Y/N nodded, leaning her head against his chest. “That's an understatement.” She groaned. “I think I might be in need of some doggy cuddles.” She looked up at him with pleading eyes. This had become a routine for them now, she had not only gained a roommate, but also a big fluffy pet to ease her sorrows on the worst of days.

Beneath her she could feel James’s body stiffen lightly, the hand he had placed on her shoulder gripping tighter. Curiously she peered up at him, their eyes meeting and she could feel the anxiety pouring from him. “Can I just…give you regular cuddles today?” He asked slowly, like the question would burn him if he spit it out too fast.

That was a boundary that hadn’t been crossed before. Not to say she hadn’t thought of it, truly she didn’t really know what the difference would be. She was lying next to him no matter what. Still she could feel the amount of courage it took for him to ask. Her eyes twinkled and she nodded softly. “Yeah that works too.” She grabbed his large hand within her own, and pulled him behind her to the bedroom.

James had taken up residence on her couch but that didn’t mean he hadn’t become well acquainted with her room. It was one of his favorite places to nap, completely overwhelmed by her scent and enveloped in the warmth of her trinkets and decorations. Of course he was always invited onto the bed when he chose to present as his wolf.

Y/N rolled onto the bed, letting out a comforted sigh. James enthusiastically crawled beside her. Their bodies gravitated towards each other like magnets, Y/N settling into the comforting embrace of his strong arms. He was big enough to fully envelop her with his body. She felt safe and hidden from the world like this.

“Thank you.” She rolled over, her back to his chest as she nestled her head against his arm using it as a pillow. “We lost some patients today.” Her voice wavered as she recounted the events of the day to James. “I just wanted to come home and cry.”

Her body was pulled back, bringing her tighter against James’s strong chest. His nose pressed to the top of her head. “M’sorry.” He soothed her gently rubbing her arms. “You can cry if you want to.” He assured her.

Y/N shook her head gently, taking in a deep shaky breath before speaking. “No, I think I’m okay now.” She tilted her head back to catch a glimpse of his face. Her hand reaching up, fingers gently tracing over the scarring across his cheeks. She thought it was cute, but she knew he didn’t feel the same. “Funny just being around you seems to make me feel better.”

Leaning into her touch, He smiled down at her. “Aren't you glad you saved me.” He joked lightly. Though it was true, he wasn’t sure he would have had the will to go on much longer had he not been brought into Y/N’s clinic.

“Every day.” She returned the smile. Her words filled with a sincerity that James wasn’t used to. His hair stood on end as an unfamiliar feeling swirled in the pit of his stomach. Suddenly Y/N yawned, her body straightening out as she stretched her limbs. “I think it's nap time.” She mumbled. Dropping her head back down she closed her eyes. “I’ll make dinner later.”

James nodded, reaching down with a free hand to pull the blankets over them. “A nap seems good.” He grunted out, trying to still the excitement building inside him. It threatened to boil over at how pleasantly domestic it felt to lay next to her. His mind whirled with hundreds of things he desperately wanted to blurt out.

Her body went slack in his hold. The rhythmic movement of her chest as she breathed falling in sync with his own. He decided his eager professions of love could wait until after she woke up.

[the-dixon-effect]

centre of the universe ✧.*

a/n: 4 months later i'm back, so sorry guys. i got a little caught up. been missing daryl most of all too. i'm feeling a little rusty and tired but here's a cute little thing ig!

requested by: @pandarooooo-blog find the request here :)

summary: having married Negan in order to rescue Daryl from the Sanctuary, you found yourself, 9 months later, raising a kid of your own. the baby being Negan's, you hadn't been particularly enthusiastic to embrace the situation.

words: 1.2k

era: season 8-9, post-saviours

Sitting around Rick and Michonne's dining table embraced by the warm glow of the sky late into summer - what felt like a fever dream at it's best. The past year had left you bruised, emotionally and physically, Hell, you hadn't caught break since the world went to shit. But today, the air was pregnant with sweetness and laughter as you bathed in the company of your family. You stood up from the table once the feast was presumed finished. Your daughter giggled softly, cradled in your arms - her innocence a trait that you only mirrored while everybody fought for her attention.

Rosita imitated her best baby-voice, babbling some nonsensical rhetoric about her being "the cutest" and the "sweetest", while Rick reminisced about the days back on the road with Judith years ago. Noticing this, you thanked him sincerely, "You built this Rick, for Judith, for her," you gestured down to the precious being in your arms. "For all of us." The atmosphere was silent despite the extent of nods and smiles in agreement - the only sound was the sweet laughter of your darling girl.

Daryl, who had been standing by your side, broke the silence "She looks jus' like her mama," he spoke proudly, as though there were a part of him somewhere that wished he was the father; a notion that only remained at the forefront of Daryl's mind when he saw your sweet figure.

"Right?" you agreed, pursuing Daryl's gaze aside from the rest of group. Daryl, as loyal as ever, had stuck by your side during the pregnancy and made sure you were never hungry, uncomfortable, God forbid you were ever unsafe inside the walls. For that you were grateful. He remained your 'best friend', though, and a part of you needed him to know that you wanted him in other ways.

Tears came streaming down your face faster than you could register the situation. Two weeks ago, you kneeled before Negan and the Saviours in the depths of the night. A week later, you were married to Negan, letting him use you to his will only to set Daryl free from the cage they had him locked in. And sure, if that wasn't traumatic enough, this morning you discovered you were pregnant. With Negan's kid.

You were scared, hurt, resentful, but most of all in shock. The overwhelming emotions contained you thoroughly inside your house, and you had not been seen by anyone all day. When a knock arose at your bedroom door, you sprang to your feet and swiftly wiped away the tears that painted your face an unforgiving shade of pink.

"Who is it?" you sobbed, trying to hide your quavering, pitiful tone beneath the question.

"'S jus' me," It was Daryl. You could tell from the husky, gravelly voice behind the door. He sounded concerned. Composing yourself, you took one last look around the messy room before slowly clutching the cold doorknob and twisting it open. His figure towered over you, not threatening - the kind you had been used to - but barricading you from any dangers that stood between him and the rest of the world.

Daryl stood before you, not knowing what to say or do, searching for some trace of an answer in the absent, glassy expanse of your eyes. Absent, there were indeed, for each moment your body stood inside the walls of Alexandria, your mind was back there, in that 'Sanctuary'.

Another wave of tears came down your face before your clouded mind could form a coherent expression.

"Hey, hey, I got ya'," he soothed, drawing your frame into a tight hug, sheltered from anyone's presence, even in your own mind Negan's shadow seemed to dissipate into the encompassing swell of his chest. At least Daryl's stature provided you some respite; it was healing, momentarily. That was until he pulled way, wishing to understand, perhaps, why you were so upset. "Come on, let's siddown'-"

"I'm pregnant, Daryl, I don't know- I don't know what to.." you sobbed, returning to the embrace in an attempt to suppress the rhythmic pound that lay waste to your mind. Daryl, in his own state of shock, could do nothing but hold you. In truth, you did not wish for him to do anything else. Slowly, he walked you to your bedside, his touch not once faltering. With strong arms now safely caging you into his figure, you lay your head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Daryl..." you sighed, closing your eyes in search for some calm.

"Hey, no. You don't ever gotta say sorry, not to me," he gravelled, in that sweet, low voice of his. As he spoke into the crown of your head, you felt his words reverberate somewhere deep inside, moreso than you heard them. He was so tender with you.

"I'm scared," you began. You were embarassed to appear in this manner in front of Daryl. You didn't want to speak. Though you thought you owed him some expression of how you were feeling. "I hate him so much, y'know. I know you know. I hate him, for what he did to you. And me. I just thought," you weeped uncontrollably into Daryl's shoulder, at the notion that Negan - that evil man - would never escape your world. Daryl tried to console you, lifting your head up inches away from his own, though, he too, was flooded with memories and resentment indistinguishable from your own.

"What if my baby turns out like him?" you asked, in rhetoric. Lord knows, what kind of answer you expected.

"Shh.. Dun' think like that," he drawled, laying a gentle kiss on your forehead. The two of you had never been this close before.

"Yer' kid is gonna be strong, and kind, and beautiful.." he trailed off, cursing him damn mouth for running away from his brain. "Just like their momma."

"Daryl?" you spoke, softly, painting a number of maternal images at the forefront of his mind.

"Yeah?" he replied. Not once did he avert his gaze from your tear-stricken face.

"Will you stay.. with me? I'm scared... I don't wanna do this alone,"

"Of course, darlin'." From that moment on, Daryl never left your side.

The warm Virginian sun dipped below the walls of your home in the distance, evening winds stirred, gently, hardly noticeable. You cradled your beautiful baby girl in your arms, your mind empty of all negative thoughts. Just for a little while, everything was perfect. It seemed almost strange, that you were now happier than ever in this post-apocalyptic world.

Daryl strolled up to the gazebo where you perched with your daughter. The setting sun lit up your face like you were the centre of the universe. The centre of his universe, perhaps. It was hypnotic, seeing you in this way, so loving and maternal, more beautiful than ever.

"Hey," you smiled, watching the archer approach cautiously. He was always like this - acting as though his mere presence was a disturbance. You thought quite the opposite. "You can sit down Daryl, you won't wake her," you said sweetly. He simply stood there, an arm leaning on the gazebo fence, smiling down at you. So you stared right back up at him, wondering if he would take you up on your offer.

"I love ya', Y/N,"

"I know. C'mere,"

[imagining-in-the-margins]

CM Damsel/Dude in Distress Fics

Hey everyone! I want to start by saying thank you so much to everyone who participated - it was so much fun to write alongside you all, and I can’t wait to share everyone’s hard work. You are so appreciated, and the diversity only makes these events better.

Without further ado, here are all of the entries + recs for the Damsel/Dude in Distress Challenge!

S.R. SFW Fics (Fem!Reader)

Kryptonite by @foxy-eva: Spencer asks you to rescue him from a very scary spider in the bathroom

Safekeeping by @/foxy-eva: Spencer is there to protect you when a situation gets out of hand. 

Funny Thing Fate by me: Reader is tipsy and lost in D.C. when she spots a man she thinks might be able to help.

Rib Cage by me: Spencer realizes Reader is the one, but it might be too late. He has to find her.

I Choose You by @ofwilliamandwalter: What happens when the lowly stable boy, Spencer, and the royalist of princesses, Reader, fall in love?

So, a Wedding? by @ssahopelessly: Reader had the invitation for nearly three months, but she didn't take the time to find a proper date.

The Found Part of Lost by @ssahopelessly: When on the way back to the station, you and Spencer find a friend on the side of the road.

Explosion by @c-m-stuff: Reader and Spencer are married. When Reader risks her life, Spencer is relieved she's still breathing.

Rose Coloured Lens by @alleyholls: Reader cuts her finger while cooking and Spencer bandages her up.

But it's Better if You Do by @fortheloveofwonderland: The absolute last thing Spencer needs is to fall for you, the magnetic exotic dancer who Morgan and Luke pay to give him a birthday dance.

More fics below!

Assorted SFW Fics

Never Let Me Go by @/foxy-eva: [Tara/Reader] Who knew how easy it would be for Reader to find comfort in Tara’s arms.

The Friendship We Have is a Rare Find by @/cherubcurls (Ao3): [Spencer & Penelope] Penelope and Spencer agree to meet up to have a study session before finals, but they end up not studying at all.

Peas and Love by @/masterwords (Ao3): [Hotchgan] Hotch hurts his back and Hank takes very good care of him.

I'll Do It by @tobias-hankel (Ao3): [Hotchreid] Hotch saves Spencer from an interrogation gone wrong.

He'll Say He's Just Not the Same by @spencer-reids-adventures (Ao3): [Hotch & Spencer] Spencer suffers a depressive episode, and Hotch comes to check on him.

Who's Afraid of the Bogeyman? by PandorasDreaming (Ao3): [Spencer & BAU] When Spencer is kidnapped by Mr. Scratch, they must race against time to save him before his mind breaks.

Saved from the Rain by @leahseclipse: [Spencer & 10th Doctor] Spencer has an encounter with a strange man who saves him from the rain.

I Get By by @/GarlicBreadforJuliusCaesar (Ao3): [Gen Fic] The one where Spencer has a fight with a vending machine, and the BAU chip in to help.

Co-Creator Bonus List!

SFW Gender Neutral Reader

Kitten Love: Spencer’s vet begrudgingly agrees to an emergency house call.

Diamonds: Spencer comforts Reader when they have a bad pain day.

Rotten: Reader struggles to feel at home in their body following a trauma.

Melancholia: Reader has been acting weird lately, so Spencer makes a much needed wellness check.

Storm: Reader has a panic attack.

Bruises: The team is concerned when Reader shows up with bruises on their neck.

SFW Female Reader

Astraphobia: SSA Reader and Spencer share their most embarrassing fears.

Different Dialects: Autistic!Reader. Spencer is trying to tell Reader he likes her, but it feels like they speak entirely different languages.

Porcelain: Autistic!Reader has a meltdown in the cafe. Luckily, there is a Dr. Reid nearby.

Baggage Claim: Autistic!Reader is having a hard time at the airport.

Stranger Danger: Reader is a single mother having a very bad day.

From the Tree: The kidnapping case becomes personal when Spencer and Reader get a call from their nanny.

NSFW Female Reader

It’s Too Cliché ❤️: Reader and Spencer are the worst at friends with benefits. After an exchange of gifts & nasty words, the two reunite on a very eventful NYE.

Cupid & Psyche ❤️: Reader and Spencer get kidnapped by a rather romantic matchmaking unsub who demands they perform for him.

Big Bad Wolf (Part 1, Part 2): Spencer is overwhelmed by the apparent innocence of an elementary school teacher he meets on a case.

Thank you for writing and reading with me.

Let me know if you'd like me to add your story to this list!

[saddled-on-stars]

I have asked 2 other people to do this and I never got anything back so I'll ask you!! Reader who somehow has a pet sandworm and bjs reaction!! I imagine reader has the 'runt' so it's super tiny, small enough to fit in the cage they bought for it and in little sweaters like it's a snake or something lol

any BJ and whatever gender you want ty 🫶

Love you star 💚🪦

THIS IS SO CUTEEEE!! How dare those two people not answer this request!! >:( (Sorry that mine took so long! I hit a bump in the road this week, and it set me back, 😔, thank you for being so patient with me!!) And the sandworm being the runt?! THAT'S EVEN CUTERRRR!! The sweaters are lowkey the best part. Beej would learn how to knit/crochet JUST to be able to make sweaters. I hope you really enjoy this, Abel, I LOVE YA TOOOO!!

Happy Reading! - Star ★

-★-★-★-★-★-★-★-  Trigger Warnings: Fluff -★-★-★-★-★-★-★-  Key:       ★ (Y/N) = Your Name       ★ (L/N) = Last Name      ★ (Y/NN) = Your Nickname  -★-★-★-★-★-★-★-  Requested by: @habitabel -★-★-★-★-★-★-★-  Tag List: (The only person so far that is listed on the taglist is Abel, and I WILL be starting a list! If you want to join it, leave a reply on this post, future posts, or shoot me a message :D) -★-★-★-★-★-★-★- 

- ★ - Sandworms & Sweaters - ★ -

The rain gently taps the window, as the thunder rumbles in the far distance. It’s a gentle thunderstorm as of right now, but you don’t mind, it’s quite nice actually. 

However, the rain isn’t the only thing that you hear. A gentle shuffle of leaves comes from the little tank on the small table in your room. Inside, moves a little sandworm, who is your favorite pet. Little Sandy.

You walk over to look in the tank, as she inches up onto her little rock, her little red eyes, and her other yellow ones too, are gazing at you with happiness, as her tail twitches slightly in amusement.

“Hey there, girl. Hungry, huh?”, you say softly, as you grab the little jar of crickets you have set aside.

As you obviously know, sandworms eat ghosts, but for the sake of your kindness to other ghosts, she eventually grew to enjoy crickets too, sometimes even mice!

A lot smaller than your average sandworm, really being the size of about a pet snake, Little Sandy was the runt of her group when you found her.

Though, you can’t really say ‘group’, as you brought her home one day after finding her on the side of the road. How she got there? You have no idea. Immediately, you took care of her as if she were your own, until eventually, she did become your own.

You drop a cricket near her head, and she happily shuffles over and munches it up with a crunch. Smiling, you giggle at the fact of how happy she can be, such an energetic little thing.

“Babes! Where are ya?”, you hear a raspy voice call out. Your boyfriend Beej is most likely barreling up the stairs just to come up and annoy you. It’s probably not annoyance though, as you find his clinginess and toddler-like-attitude rather cute.

“Up here, Beej..”, you mutter. It’s been a long day with your activities, and you’re exhausted to say the least. Rubbing your temples due to your minor headache, you fall onto the wheeled office stool next to Little Sandy’s tank, letting it slide over for a few moments.

Your green-haired demon comes bouncing into the room with his usual sense of excitement, causing you to smile. He’s such a child sometimes, and that’s one of the reasons you love him.

His bounciness ceases as he looks at you with a sad, yet curious look. A few strands of his hair fade to purple, signaling his sadness, and causing you to frown.

Oh yeah, yet another thing you love about him.

He holds out his arms towards you, inviting you to cling to his torso, or just lean against him. Beej gives the nicest hugs in your opinion, and so, you saunter into his arms, leaning against his chest as he pulls you close.

His hand runs up and down your back softly, as both of your gazes drift to Little Sandy’s tank, before you feel Beej bounce up, startling you.

“BABES!”, he says shouting slightly with a smile on his face, that causes you to smile. He looks so childish and adorable.

“I didn’t know you had a sandworm!”, he exclaims. He clasps his hands together and rushes over to the tank to crouch down and get eye-level with Little Sandy.

Little Sandy tilts her head curiously as she shuffles to the corner of her tank to meet Beej’s gaze. Her little snake-like body moves hastily, causing Beej to giggle with excitement. 

Beej then turns to you quickly, pulling you over to the tank with him, practically jumping up and down like a kid. Again, adorable.

“Can I pet it, Babes?”, he begins, clasping his hands together as your hands are within his grasp. He then follows with a “Pleeease?”, showing his puppy eyes that always get to you.

“Sure,”, you say with a soft smile, running your fingers through his hair. He laughs as he plants a kiss on your cheek, moving his arm to in the tank to run his finger ever so softly across the creature’s back. 

Little Sandy is of course loving all of the attention she’s receiving. She lets out a little ‘squeeeak’ of delight, looking up at Beej’s face through the glass wall.

Beej eventually moves the covering of the tank, gently and softly reaching in with both hands, scooping the little sandworm up, as she squeaks once more with happiness, snuggling her head against Beej’s thumb, causing him to giggle once more.

You smile at him, planting one more kiss on his cheek, your head resting on his shoulder softly. “Beej, meet Little Sandy. Little Sandy, Beej.”, you say proudly, scratching the sandworm’s chin.

The little striped creature squeaks once more, looking up at Beej, as Beej smiles down at Little Sandy, causing a grin to spread across your own face. 

“You guys are gonna get along great, I can tell.”, you say with a chuckle, laying a little more on Beej’s shoulder.

Beej plants a kiss on top of your head, replying with a chuckle, “Too late Babes, I already made her some sweaters.”

He says this as he holds up a tiny little knitted green sweater, causing Little Sandy to squeal and nuzzle the sweater, as if to say she wants it on.

She of course doesn’t have arms, so the sweater is a little tube essentially, but it’s perfect nonetheless.

Beej slips it over her head, and onto her little body, as he sets her back down in her tank. Immediately, she begins shuffling all over the place, letting out her little squeaks and squeals, causing you and Beej to smile.

Who knew that the saying was true? 

Big things really can come in small packages.

 

- ★ - Written by Saddled-On-Stars - ★ -

[satcnus]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ       𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐘

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. ex-military widower ✖ runaway stray

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒. older protective male x vulnerable teen fem. widower x runaway. paternal elements within romance. male saviorism. size differences. opposites attract. ride or die. hurt, comfort, healing. v-rginity loss. dead dove do not eat.

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆! The following original fiction contains potentially triggering content, including: extreme age gap, homicide, child and spousal death, kidnapping, s-xual as-sault (background only), r-pe recovery, child abuse (background only), post-traumatic stress disorder and disabling mental illness, and mild ddlg themes (clothing, nicknames). Read at your own discretion.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐎𝟑 - EARLY RELEASE. 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑.

It was almost another hour before the road parted into the unpaved path that he’d committed to memory so well he navigated it like the back of his hand. 

The drive to his cabin was a rather eerie one. It cut through a clearing of trees, and then the trees occluded again, just enough to make the unfamiliar driver think they’d reached the end of the dirt road, but Reuven knew the way through to come upon the enclave that housed his residence. Tucked deep in the woods, far enough out where no one and nothing could find him without explicitly being made aware, his two-story cabin stood tall against the night. 

It was silent, just as it had been before he’d left. He suddenly remembered his dinner, sitting cold on the table. The thought to offer it to her flashed into his mind. If only she would wake up.

The drive home had been full of doubts. Whether he was doing the right thing. Whether there was another option he should have taken. 

Where else could he have taken her? There was nothing. Not out here, deep in the central west Washington mountains. Nothing but trees and the occasional reprieve of a paved road. His closest friends of late had been those deer he had stocked up in the deep freezer, chopped into steaks and burgers and ground meat. 

At least here she would be warm, he reasoned with himself, as he stepped outside the car.

And goddamn it, he tried. He walked back and forth from the front door to the truck, every fifteen minutes until four in the morning, to see if she was awake yet, but she still never woke. He tried to do the good thing. The right thing. The thing that wouldn’t terrify her half to Jesus when she awoke again.

But it was cold out, and he was worried, even with her clothes now dried, about how she would fare sleeping in the cold all night. The truck only offered so much reprieve from it. The wind, mostly blocked, still found a way to creep in through the cracks and chill everything in the enclosed space.

He’d even sat in the car again, hoping that the slamming door and the weight of his presence would startle her back into consciousness again. To no avail.

It was 4:34am when he carefully peeled open the passenger’s side door, hooked his arms beneath her tiny form, and lifted her into a cradle against his chest, with much, much too ease. So much ease that it concerned him. She was so light, so skinny, he had this terrible feeling in his gut. Like he should wake her if only to feed her.

As he'd done so, she'd made some fitful whimper, and Reuven quickly adjusted his hold on her. Cradling her with his hand gripped at the doughy flesh of her almost non-existent lovehandle, rather than around her rib cage. It wasn't long before her momentary stirring came to a stop, and the girl's head lolled into the nook of his broad shoulder. Her lips, pinked from the cold and her slumber, pressed unconsciously into the soft cotton of his shirt; her buttoned nose nuzzling into him without her awareness all the same.

Reuven’s footsteps were heavy on the hardwood staircase. The stranger was in his arms, one beneath her knees and one behind the expanse of her shoulders. He could feel the dampness of those layers of clothing beneath the outermost of the bunch, and briefly, at the top of the steps, debated peeling them from her skin, so she could dry off properly, but decided against it. How would it feel, to her, to awake and realize she’d been undressed? Violating at best, he was sure. 

He lay her down in the one, and only, guest room he had. It had had no other visitor beforehand. Barren, pieced together with a bed frame and a measly bookshelf, and a dry, devoid fireplace at its feet, adjacent to the door.

He’d built the place with his bare hands. At times, the project had become so complete that his mind-numbing tasks had started to dwindle, and that was how he’d conjured up this guest room . He never had guests. Not in the fifteen years he’d hidden away here. An acquaintance from the town, maybe, sometimes, but that was only a few times a year, if that.  No one had ever slept in the mattress he laid the strange girl down into. Nobody had ever been warmed by the fire he stoked at the bed of her feet, prodding charring pieces of freshly cut firewood into raging and consuming heat. 

The flick of a switch ripped the light from the room, save for the flames. And Reuven, mind wired as ever, lay down, staring at the ceiling, in his own bed just a hallway away.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Devil's Night: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Summary: Halloween makes its way around again, and you and Spencer are preparing for the best holiday (according to Spencer). He keeps you busy with decorating while he makes arrangements of his own, arrangements that will completely change both of your lives for the better.

Season Six Masterlist

Author's Note: I know Devil's Night is usually the night before Halloween, but for the sake of this rewrite, Devil's Night is the weekend before.

x

You, Derek, and Emily head over to his house but there is no sign of Kaman. House is a loose word. It's more like a garage of some sort filled with gas cans, shelving units, and a small bed in the very corner. The only source of light comes from the very few lights strung about. You turn them on but they don't provide a lot of light here.

"It's like a cave," Emily comments.

"This guy hides out all year long. With burns like his, he's probably sensitive to light."

"And his own skin," Derek says. "Look around, there's not a mirror in sight. This guy doesn't want any reminder of what he looks like."

"There's nothing personal in here. For a planner like Kaman, tonight's abduction was irrational. He went on private property and took Chris with a witness present."

"Maybe he's finally starting to feel the pressure and he's reactive," Derek shrugs.

"It's more than that. He's meticulous. He'd have a plan if he got cornered. He'd have an endgame."

"He already killed the man he blames for his accident. The other victims are slights compared to that, and now he needs to hurt the person who hurt him the most. The one who drives all of this. The one who broke his heart."

"Who the hell is that?" you ask.

Al and Hotch were too late. Chris had already been set on fire. He ran into the middle of the road while on fire and died right there where everyone could see him. Al didn't have time to take Chris to a secondary location, so he abandoned the van that he used and fled the scene. He's on foot now.

Kaman targeted Chris because he was fired seven months ago. He killed Chris where he did because roadblocks prevented him from going into his comfort zone. The only things inside the van are welding equipment, cans of gasoline, and a cage. Without his car, Kaman is going to lie in wait until he can't anymore.

Then, he's gonna lash out again.

There has to be something in Kaman's garage that will tell you where he's going next. You lift his mattress but nothing is there. You lift his pillow and see a single notebook there. You open it and see multiple pictures of the same woman in there.

"Guys, I think I found something." Derek and Emily walk to your side. "A woman. I think this is a diary. He keeps mentioning the same woman over and over again."

"Jeez. We gotta find out who she is. If this guy's feeling cornered, all bets are off. Tonight's his last chance to get revenge on anyone who's ever wronged him. She's most likely his next target."

You take pictures of the woman, send them to Penelope, and then call her.

"Pen, I just sent you some photographs."

"What do you want to do with them?"

"Blow up the background and see if you can find anything that tells us who this girl is."

"I'll hit you back." You try to figure it out on your own but you don't have Penelope's skills. She calls back five minutes later with Hotch on the other line. "Friends, we're on a three-way."

"What's going on?" Hotch asks.

"Hotch, we found some pictures of Kaman's girlfriend at his place," you say.

"I blew up those pictures. In one of them, she appears to be in a restaurant, so I zoomed in on the sign that says 'O' apostrophe 'S'. I cross-checked that with restaurants in the area, and there are five diners. Three are in the suburbs, two are in Highland Park, and one is in Rivertown."

"What's the name?"

"Jay-mo's. This appears to be Kaman's and that girl's favorite place because all the pictures were taken there."

"Have you heard of Jay-mo's?" Hotch asks someone near him,

"It's a few blocks from here," Al answers.

"Good work, Garcia. We're on the way."

You, Derek, and Emily begin the drive to Jay-mo's knowing Al and Hotch will get there before you. Reports of a fire alert just went out from Jay-mo's which means Kaman is already there. Hotch and Al arrive first and immediately go inside to rescue the man who Kaman was trying to kill. Thankfully, they do, and you arrive just as Hotch pulls the man's body out of the burning diner.

"Hotch, you ran into a burning building?" Derek gasps.

"I didn't have a choice. Her name's Tracy. Kaman's trying to find her."

"That man put his life on the line to protect her. She means something to him."

"She means everything," Hotch adds.

You're already calling Penelope to give her the new information on the case. She looks more into the diner and the people who own it.

"Jay-Mo's real name is James Morris. He was married to Loretta Butler. They have one daughter, Tracy Anderson. She was born in 1987."

"Why does she have a different last name?" you ask.

"When James' wife died, his sister Susan Anderson adopted Tracy."

"Where is she now?"

"Ohio."

"No, he says she's nearby," Hotch says. "Where do the Andersons live?"

"Uh, Indian Village."

"That's three miles away."

"Let's go."

"Thanks, Pen."

While you're driving over to the house, you try to get Tracy on the phone. However, she isn't answering. The line is busy. Kaman is already there. There isn't a fire reported yet, but Al calls in medics and fire suppression just in case. Penelope looks deeper into Tracy and Kaman's relationship only to find out that Tracy got pregnant right before Kaman went into a coma. He doesn't even know he has a child.

"We're here," Al says once everyone arrives. The SWAT team is also in position, waiting for instruction. "Hold your position. We need a single rifle. I say again, all units, hold your position."

"Copy that." Derek pulls off to the side once he has Tracy's house in view. "This is the street." You look at Tracy's house and notice Hotch going inside the house... alone. "Hotch is going inside, and he's on his own."

"We should go after him, no?" you ask, worried for your boss.

"Hotch won't do anything to spin him," Rossi says.

"It's not Kaman I'm worried about."

"This isn't his first time at the dance. We gotta trust him on this."

You have no choice but to trust him, and he did what he was supposed to do. He got Kaman out without him hurting anyone else. All Tracy had to do was show him his son and that is what convinced Kaman to go to jail instead of burning the house down like he planned to do. Now that you got that out of the way, you plan for Spencer's birthday by first, setting up a nice candle-lit dinner inside your apartment the night that you get back from Detroit.

Spencer was told to stay in the bedroom while you got everything set up. Mozart is lightly playing through the old-timey record player Spencer got a few years ago, the dining table is set with a white cloth, flowers you bought before you left for Detroit, fake candles everywhere to create a romantic glow, and three presents you got last month wrapped so prettily.

"Okay, Spencer, you can come on out now," you call out. The bedroom door opens and Spencer walks into the main room. "Happy birthday."

"Wow, this looks amazing."

"I made you your favorite. I got the recipe online so I hope I made it right."

"I'm sure it's delicious," he grins.

Spencer loves Indian food so you made sure to find an authentic recipe that involves everything he likes. You and Spencer sit across from each other and immediately dig in, and he moans at how delicious the food is.

"Seriously, you did a great job."

"Thanks, baby," you grin. "So, I was thinking about something. Maybe we should plan a trip to see your mom. I know she misses you a lot and I think it would do her some good if she saw us. I mean, I don't know about staying an entire week but I don't see an issue with staying a weekend."

"Look, I gotta tell you something and it can't wait," Spencer cuts you off.

"Okay."

Spencer remembers Derek's words loud and clear. Just speak from the heart. Okay, here goes nothing.

"You have no idea how happy you have made me. When I first saw you walk onto that plane for the very first time, do you remember what you said?" You shake your head with a smile. "You said, 'Sorry, but I've read everything you have ever written especially Identifying Non-obvious Relationship Factors Using Cluster Weighted Modeling and Geographic Regression. You have a very intelligent mind.'"

"I wasn't lying," you smile.

"I thought... Wow. How can someone so beautiful and smart ever want to talk to me? I often find myself thanking Gideon for giving me those tickets for the drive-in theater we went to. I don't think I would have found the courage to ask you out if it wasn't for him. We have been through so much and I know we're going to go through so much more... I want you there through it all right by my side."

Spencer reaches into his breast pocket inside his jacket and pulls out a small black ring box. The fork you're holding drops to the table, making a loud clanging noise as it hits the ceramic plate. Spencer gets up from his chair only to kneel on one knee right in front of you. Tears immediately spring to your eyes but you try not to let them fall.

"Spencer..."

"You're my best friend, the love of my life, and I want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you make me. Will you marry me?"

"This is supposed to be your birthday," you cry.

"Marrying you is the best present I could ever get. So, will you marry me?"

"Yes," you giggle and hold your hand out.

As soon as Spencer slides the ring onto your finger, you pull him in for a kiss. Both of you stand and embrace each other. The high you're feeling right now is like none other because you can now start to plan the rest of your life with Spencer by your side. You slide your tongue into his mouth only to pull away seconds later.

"Is this why you and Derek have been acting weird?"

"I needed his help," Spencer shrugs shyly.

"I'm gonna be Mrs. Reid," you giggle happily and kiss him once more.

Frank wants nothing more than to go over to your apartment and beat the ever-living shit out of Spencer. No one touches what's his. Clarissa has always said he had a bad temper when things don't go his way and she's been trying to get him to work on thinking before acting out. Frank leans back in his seat and clenches his hands by his side.

Think, Frank, think. Frank could storm into your apartment and steal you away from Spencer, but that would only put the FBI on his ass and ruin everything he's worked so hard for. No, he can't do that. The only other option is to wait and come up with a plan. Frank wants you. It's as simple as the day he first saw you. Big beautiful eyes, such soft and supple skin. You're in every one of his fantasies and he's not going to let someone like Spencer take that away from him.

No, if he's going to separate the two of you, he has to get creative... even if it means punishing himself to do it. Frank grabs his phone and dials the one person who he knows will get him out of this alive.

"Frank, I was wondering when you'd call."

"You knew this day was coming."

"I've been counting down since you gave me one of your kids. Two of them, in fact. Such pretty little girls."

"Yes, I bet they're gorgeous." Frank rolls his eyes. "Listen, I need to cash in my favor."

"What do you need?"

"Let's just say I might be visiting you a lot sooner than I wanted. You know Y/N?"

"Who doesn't? All you do is brag about her."

"Yeah, well, she's engaged now and that just won't do. I think it's about time she finally knows who I am."

"Are you sure about that? You're going to go to prison for a very long time."

"That's where you come in. Are you still as good as they say you are or should I go with someone else?"

"You know I'm the best," the man smirks. "Don't worry. You sort your shit out and I'll make sure your cell will be ready for you when you get here."

Frank smirks and hangs up soon after before watching you and Spencer celebrate on camera. You have no idea what's coming for you...

"Love feels no burden, thinks nothing of its trouble, attempts what is above its strength, pleads no excuse for impossibility, for it thinks all things are lawful for itself and all things are possible." - Thomas A. Kempis

x

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[cheerysmores]

You will come back

Pairing: Lavellen (Brinni) x Cullen Rutherford

Rating: E

Word count: 2.3K

AO3 link

A birthday gift for my lovely moot @weaveandwood featuring her inquisitor Brinni! (Thanks for lending me a screenshot)

***

“Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker’s light and nothing He has wrought shall be lost.”

The prayer comes to Cullen as easily as breathing. He repeats it, watching another candle in front of Andraste’s statue burn down to nothing. It scarcely matters. So many now crowd her that the air in this small room shudders with the heat. A few weeks back, some well meaning soul had decided to light one here for each person lost to their cause. He tries not to think about how many more they’ll need when he gives their next order, if any amount of gold and wax could make up for what Corpypheus’ forces might do to their own.

Or if there was anything under the Maker’s sky that could make up for what Corypheus might do to the one person that can stop him.

Cullen adjusts his knees, trying to focus on the words. Once they were a taught ritual, something to soften the losses that so often came with Templar life. They’d spilled from his lips without thinking as he watched Haven burn, then disappear completely in a roar of snow and lyrium-red magic. After that, he didn’t think he’d have anything left to lose. It’s both wonderful and cruel how wrong he turned out to be.

“A prayer for you?” Brinni’s voice calls softly behind him.

He smiles as he turns. She’s leaning in the doorway, skin flushed from the cold and her boots still damp from wherever she’s been hiking. He can picture her wandering the perimeter of the castle, green eyes bright as she meticulously scours the snow for animal tracks. Even with so many of their guests remarking how the Inquisitor need not do such a thing, he knows she needs the time. Walls of any size can still feel like a cage.

“It is,” he answers, rising to his feet. “One for those we have lost. And those I am afraid to lose.”

“Do you really think talking to the Maker will help?”

Cullen closes the space between them, turning away from Andraste’s looming gaze. “I may have questioned it at times, but I have found comfort in faith when life offered little.” It’s a truth growing thinner by the day. Sometimes, he wants to believe as he did when he was a younger man, one still blinded by duty and ignorance. At least then his prayers felt like something real rather than leaves thrown to the wind.

He brushes the side of her face, stopping at the gentle point of her ear. “Corypheus will retaliate, it’s only a matter of time. And then you will be thrown into his path again.” His fingers tense. “Andraste preserve me, I must send you to him.”

“Send me or not, I’m going either way. Besides, I have luck on my side, remember?” His gifted coin suddenly appears between her fingers. She throws it in the air, catching it without looking.

He chuckles at her smirk. “That’s… less comforting than I’d hoped.”

“Hey, I’m trying here.”

He pulls her into his arms, inhaling the smell of snow and earth from her soft white hair. It’s a familiar scent now, the same one that clings to his pillow on the nights she can steal away to his bed. He winds a lock around his finger and draws it closer. It’s not enough. He wants to know what it smells like damp from summer rain, warm from an inn’s hearth, somewhere far away from titles and monsters and those damn rips in the sky.

“Whatever happens you will come back,” he whispers.

“Cullen, you don’t have to–”

He brushes her bottom lip. “Please, allow me this. To believe anything else would… I can’t.”

She nods against his shoulder but says nothing more. He watches her in his arms, making a memory of the way the candles flicker in her eyes. It’s not his favourite view of her, that belongs to the moments she’s resting above him, pink and smiling and lit like the divine by the sunlight spilling through the hole above his bed.

No candle could represent that. No candle will ever need to.

She leans up to murmur against his ear. “Will you come to my chambers tonight?”

He chuckles again, twisting to kiss her forehead. “The day I say no to that question is the day I’ve been kicked in the head by one of the Inquisition’s horses.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

His mouth follows the pale branches of her vallaslin until it rests against her lips. There’s one prayer still warm on his tongue as she kisses back, one he’ll repeat every moment he can until his devotion might will it into existence.

Maker, please. Don’t take her before me.

***

Tonight, he wants to be slow. There are precious few moments left before she has to depart and he’d very much like to spend them savouring every sweet curve and breath and kiss that he can. That all goes out the window the moment he reaches Brinni’s room.

He’s barely away from the stairs before she’s leaping from her bed and pressing her lips to his. She swallows his surprised gasp, hooking her hands into his cloak and manoeuvring them both across the floor.

“Vhenan.”

The word is poetry even as she mumbles it against his mouth. He grasps her waist, trying to gentle the bite of her passion but she doesn’t slow. Her hands are already everywhere, scrabbling at his breastplate, his gloves, the fur of his mantle. Nothing comes loose. She punctuates her frustration between kisses. “Why. Come. In. All. This.”

“Appearances,” he breathes as she finally moves her head, eyes hunter-focussed on the ties of his armour. His answer tastes of a lie, but the truth is something he’ll keep to himself a while longer. He likes watching her take it off.

The first time she’d been gentle, reverent even. He’d let himself get lost in the meadow of her eyes as she removed the pieces, softly touching each stretch of new skin until he was burning for her. The times after depended on how much of her patience had been worn down by the day’s work. After one particularly painful dinner with a gaggle of Orlesian nobles she’d come to his room, cut all the ties with a dagger and laid down on his desk before he’d even had time to ask. The armourer had been tactful enough not to comment the next morning but his eyes kept flicking to and from Cullen’s neck like he was scared to look at it. He didn’t realise why until he went to shave and saw a rosy bruise in the shape of Brinni’s mouth blooming well above his collar.

He presses her face into the same spot now, silently begging her to give him another. He doesn’t care if people whisper, he wants it to stay there, dark and throbbing, until she’s fought, won and returned.

Piece by piece the steel of the Commander clatters around them. A satisfied hum rumbles through her and into him when he’s finally stripped down to his undershirt. He pushes them both onto her bed, her hair fanning out like a tangle of moonlight as she lands. He takes a moment, just one, to trace the plump curve of her mouth. He feels her breath against his thumb, a warm reminder that she’s alive, safe.

Her face softens slightly and she touches the scar on his lip. “I’m right here,” she whispers, guiding his hand to the tie of her robe. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

He tugs it open, swallowing when he finds her completely naked underneath. She frees herself from the rest of the fabric, the flush of her cheeks spilling over her breasts as she lays back down. A dozen times he’s stripped her bare and a dozen times the sight has made him feel like some fumbling maid. He kisses her ear, lightly brushing his knuckle over the white curls of hair between her legs until she sighs and shivers under him.

She arches her back when his lips find her nipple. He licks the rosy peak, his arm soft around her back to pull her closer. Her nails rake through his hair as he moves to the other. He kisses, sucks, rubs with the roughness of his unshaven shadow until her chest heaves, red and wanting.

Some mixture of elven and his name spills from her lips like a song. He only catches a few of the words. His grasp of her language may falter between her legs but the sound of her want is something he couldn’t forget even if he tried.

He brushes her throat, feels the bob of her moan as his knee presses against her heat. Maker she’s already so wet. His fingers slip across the sheets, scrambling for purchase. He pauses when they brush something sharp under her pillow.

“Brinni, is that a knife?” He pulls it free and stares at the blade now clasped between his hands. It’s little, but he’d seen her take down bigger men than him with much smaller blades.

She laughs as she takes it from him. “Ah I forgot to move it this time. Call me paranoid but you can never be too careful.”

“You must know I’d never let anyone get anywhere close enough.”

She kisses his forehead. “I know. It just… it makes me feel better. I did it back home, back with my clan. I never wanted to be caught short.”

Her eyes are soft, the same way they always are when she speaks of her Clan. He knows she dreams of returning. She’d whispered it between his shoulder blades more than once in the long shadows before dawn. She’d said nothing when he’d asked if she’d want to stay with them, if that’s where she saw her home after all this. After she’d left, he’d thought about what home might look like for him when the war finally ends. A ceiling without holes, a bed she doesn’t have to sneak out of at the rooster's first crow, perhaps a lake– his imagination always falters after that.

He puts his hand over hers. “I think you will be fine for one night.”

She nods and throws it with practised grace into a wooden board on the other side of her room. She smiles at his impressed hum and crawls into his lap.

“Now, where were we,” she murmurs, sliding her hands into his trousers.

It’s a while before coherent words are heard between the walls of the Inquisitor's chambers again.

Their lovemaking is a slick, desperate blur. She arches under him with each messy thrust, her fingernails digging crescents into his back. He runs through the chant of light over and over in his head, desperate not to tip over, to make this last as long as his body will let him.

He slips his hand between them, seeking the swollen pearl of her clit. She cries out louder as he rubs her, the sounds running off the walls like rain. Her window is open behind them. Anyone wandering close enough on the ramparts could hear. The thought stirs something hotter in him, possessive, almost ugly. Perhaps the modesty of Templar life had made him greedy, owning nothing beyond what the Circle gave him, not even his body– that was used then broken trying to defend something he isn’t even sure he believes in now. In these sweet moments, he’s free, loved, anyone he wants to be.

And he wants to be hers.

She finishes with another gasp of his name. Her thighs clamp around his waist as he follows, holding him there like she never wants him to let go. He runs his hand down the firm muscle of her leg.

He won’t. Not ever. Not if she asks him to.

They’re quiet after. It’s an easy silence, a moment to take comfort amongst the smells of sweat and sex. She lies on her front, eyes closed while he slowly brushes her arm. He stops at the blackened tip of her finger, wondering if she’d stained it while writing. She’s always voracious in her mission reports, but it’s the ones she writes just for him that has him jumping out of his seat each time he sees a raven. Words of love, of lust, elven pet names written in her flowing script so he can almost feel her next to him when he reads them.

He strokes the back of her hand.

The thought of losing her, having nothing left but parchment and ink in his desk—

He shakes his head.

No. Not now. Not tonight.

She opens her eyes as he pushes a few messy white strands from her face. “What is it, vhenan?”

He picks up her hand and softly kisses each finger. “You’re going to come back.”

He’s seen what she can do on the training ground and the battlefield. She’s fast with her blades, almost invisible on the wind. It’s enough. It has to be.

She shuffles forward, lightly running her hand through his curls. “Is that an order, Commander?”

“No, but as one of your advisors I strongly suggest it.”

She laughs, sweet as a lovebird's trill. “If you say so. And it’s probably a good thing we are not departing for a few days. After that I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk straight.”

He winds his arms around her. “I love you.” He wants to say it a thousand times more, whisper away any doubt, any fear she has. If he cannot be with her there, then he’ll be her strength here. And then when they finally leave this all behind they can shed the weight of these blasted titles. No more Inquisitor and Commander. Just Brinni and Cullen.

His heart swells. That’s what home sounds like.

She buries her face into the breadth of his chest, kissing directly over the thrum of his heart. “And I love you too. Always.”

[gay-wh0re-slut]

Rhea x reader with the reader f**king Rhea's thigh pls

oh helllll yeah, thank you for being my first request!! i’m hoping it’s a fem reader because of what you want? so i’m writing this as if it was, if not, let me know please. but i hope you enjoy!!

CW: dom rhea, slight praise, slight degradation

Go On, Do it Then

You sit on the couch awaiting your girlfriend with the dogs curled up next to you. Swishing your 4th glass of wine, you smile as you check Rhea’s location watching her turn down your road and into the driveway.

The doorknob clicks leading to Barry and Luna barking and racing each other to the door. A muscular silhouette barges in with her duffle bag of gear, makeup and who knows what else.

“Hey guys!” a toothy grin appears on the tired face, “mommy’s home…yes I know!…hello!!” as she pets them vigorously after throwing her bag down near the shoe rack, (mainly filled with her nike’s).

You make no fuss about her saying hi to the dogs first because if she didn’t they would whine all night as if they’ve never been loved in their life. So you wait patiently in line behind the barking furballs, wine tipsy, holding your hands behind your back hoping it would keep you balanced enough to where she wouldn’t notice how close to wine drunk you were.

Rhea finally stands to make eye contact with you and that always made the butterflies in your stomach come to life.

“Hey baby,” she smirks as she pushed her way through the pooches, “I’ve missed you.” She grabs your waist and pulls you in for a long kiss as your hands find their way to her cheeks, grasping and hoping to never let go. Unfortunately, she lets go, but in one fell swoop, she picks you up wrapping your legs around her hips and your arms around her neck, desperately trying to hold on. She carries you to the couch and sits down with you in her lap.

“How wassyour trip?” you try to speak as normal as possible.

She cocks an eyebrow at your slurred speech, then peeks behind you to see the almost empty bottle of rosé and half full wine glass, “not too bad, love, but you seem to have taken a trip for yourself, I see.”

You make a fake shocked face, “Whaat? Noo,” you giggle. “I was only trying to pass the time until you showed up, but now here you are!” You raise your arms like you were on a rollercoaster, then placed them on her shoulders.

“Here I am!” she chuckled back. A few seconds go by as she lets her eyes wonder over your body. You’re not wearing anything too revealing, not revealing at all actually, but you did put on her favorite comfy shirt she likes you to wear and some biker shorts, knowing she would definitely notice. Soft hands find their way from your thighs, to your ass, to under your shirt, to your back, to lightly scraping her nails up and around to your rib cage. You shiver under her touch, and the butterflies became more alive.

“Did you miss me?”

“Of course I did!”

“Yeah? How much?”

“Soooo much!”

“That’s a lot,” she smirked. Her hands have now found their way to the collar of your shirt and gently tugging it down. “Wanna show me?” she began to softly kiss up your neck.

Your breath hitches at the sudden change in energy, “show you?” you asked, but you knew exactly what she meant.

“Yes,” her accent hissed in your ear, “prove to your mami that you missed her ‘soooo much’,” as she kissed down your jaw finishing just before your lips. She knew how much you wanted to kiss her but she denied the movement by grabbing your face, holding you just close enough.

A small whine left your throat before, “yes ma’am,” finally escaped. Your pants were immediately soaked from your core. Muscular arms gracefully removed your shirt exposing your chest fully. You shiver at the burst of cold air on your skin. Before she even threw the shirt to the side, she began kissing your chest. Leaving a trail of soft kisses behind, her mouth found your hard nipple and lightly ran her tongue over it, kissed her was to the other one and repeated the motion. She finished off by kissing her way back up your neck and finally kissing you on the lips.

“How’re you feeling, my baby?” she coos.

You hum in content, “like I need to be fucked…like right now…please,” the wine spoke.

“Such a desperate slut,” said the tattooed woman, “is that really what you want?”

“Mhmm,” you whine nodding your head and moving your hips to get any traction possible, “please mami!”

“Well, get to it then. You wanna cum so bad then do it.” she drops her hands from your body with a plop onto the cushions.

“But I want you to do it,” you whine again.

Icy blue eyes lock onto yours and leans in extremely close to your face. You know better than to try to steal a kiss.

Her australian voice came out smooth but in a threatening whisper, “Don’t make me tell you again.”

Your eyes widen as your mind goes a million miles a second to try to figure out how to do it and quickly. Thankfully, you thought of something.

You readjust yourself on her lap so one leg is in between hers, checking every second that she’s okay with every movement. You carefully place your hands on her shoulders, once again checking her face for any change in emotion but she watches blankly as you maneuver and gently place yourself back down, but this time only one leg.

“Good girl,” the toothy grin says. She leans back placing her arms on the top of the back cushions of the couch, “now show me how much you missed me like the good slut you are.”

You hesitate but you nod your head, “y-yes ma’am.” So, you begin to ride her thigh, ever so slowly though not wanting to seem as desperate as you actually are. After a minute or so, gripping onto her shoulders for balance, you quicken your pace to a nice steady rocking.

She watches you, grinning her evil smile, “that’s it, princess.” She finally places her hands back on your ass guiding you through the motion. Sometimes she pushes you down harder onto her leg to get a rise out of you and it certainly does.

Soft moans and whines escape your throat as time passes. You can feel the pressure building inside of you, “holy fuck,” you choke out. You didn’t realize it until a sweat bead slowly dropped from your forehead to your nose that she was making you go twice the speed you were before. Grinding harder and harder, losing grip on her shoulders so you move closer to her neck and one hand tangled in her hair. Your forehead almost resting on hers you were so close. Little did you know that the small movement of your knee between her legs was getting her off too.

“God, you’re such a fucking slut, baby,” a small moan escaped her mouth, which is when you realized where you knew was so you adjust between the repetitions and push your knee farther into her. “Shit,” spilled from her mouth because of the new sensation making you that much closer knowing she was getting off too.

“Please…let me..cum mmami…please,” you whine.

“Do it, princess…fuck, cum for me,” she allows panting her way through her own building pressure.

1..2..3..4..5..6..7 thrusts after her command, the pressure finally releases as you moan so loud it might as well have been a scream, “uunhhh fUck,” you yell. You let your head fall to her shoulder as you continue to ride out the waves.

“Oh GOD!” She follows as her own pressure releases. Moaning and whining into your ear.

You both ride it out, panting and sweating being silent for a minute before you both come back to earth.

“Fuck, you’re so hot, my baby,” the raven hair moves past you forcing you to sit back up.

You kiss her weakly as you slump back down to her shoulder.

[procyonloser]

Lucifer walked a long cobbled road, the heels of his shoes clicking on the stone as he went. The sky was turning to night, and the lanterns had been lit. The hedgerows on the other side of the street seemed to curve inwards towards him, like a bow, or better yet a cage. He wasn't meant to be here, not with the hunts still going.

A raven croaked above him, circling a time or two, before landing on a light post and watching him with intrigue. It had golden eyes, tilting it's head, before croaking once more. In a single blink, it hopped down, and became a man, dressed in black robes. He was a good deal taller than Lucifer was, and seemed to care little about their surroundings.

"Not smart coming here," Adam commented, but Lucifer only kept his gaze forward. "The Hopkins is looking anything off, any reason to send someone to the gallows."

Adam laughed, using his height to stride in front of Lucifer, walking backwards with his hands behind his back, a cheeky look on his face. "You're more off than on, Lucifer - I mean even your name. They'd have you strung before you could spell it."

"I can take care of myself against some second rate Witchfinder general." Lucifer told him flippantly. Hopkins scared him little, there were worse things out there looking for him. "Did you find anything?"

Adam rolled his eyes, waving a hand. "Not a trace of her, but I caught another scent. Lilith."

Lucifer stopped in his tracks. Had she returned to take their daughter? Why? She'd entrusted Charlie's care to him.

"A demoness and a witch in Suffolk... I wonder what the stories will tell in a century or two." Adam mused to himself, ever over dramatic. "If you need to kill her, you know I won't mind."

"But then your contract to her would end, and you'd have to leave me as my familiar. Why would you think I'd let you be free of me?" Lucifer said, and Adam shrugged a shoulder.

"It was worth a try."

Lucifer stretched out his hand, fingertips blackened from years of magic and herbs. "Come now, Adam."

In a flash, he turned back into a raven, flying out to land on Lucifer's hand, before hopping up onto his shoulder. He nipped lightly at Lucifer's cheek, before ruffling his feathers and relaxing. Neither of them knew how long this road would last, but Lucifer wouldn't stop until he found his daughter, and he wouldn't free Adam until that moment. In truth, Adam was the only bit of comfort Lucifer had these days.

He passed by a gate, and looked out onto a hill. Witches by the tens were strung up in the distance, dangling shapes on the gallows built from a cut down Rowan that used to grow there. None of them were actually witches, of course.

But Lucifer was.

"Can we get something to eat soon, I'd fancy a pie." Adam asked, beak clicking. Lucifer reached up to rub the side of his face.

"Soon," Lucifer agreed, not wanting to admit he enjoyed his company.