#the blacklist x you

[101crows]

Going To Red for comfort

‘This can’t be happening’

You repeated this to yourself yet again, as if saying it enough times would somehow make it true. The world had taken your birth parents from you and now it was trying to take your found parents too. Another car crash. Not just with one parent this time, no. With both of them.

‘This isn’t happening.’

They were in surgery and the drunk driver that hit them got off with a broken arm and a concussion. You had to see him walking around, talking to the people he loved while your parents laid touch-and-go on hospital beds. You were sure in a few hours you’d be angry as all hell, but after sobbing and screaming and sobbing all over again, all you felt was empty.

Distantly, you heard your phone ringing. It was muffled, like you had lost it under a mountain of pillows, and when you looked at it in your hand you felt a deep certainty that it was not your hand, not your body at all. You stared at for longer than usual, knowing that the word on it was real and familiar, and yet unable to recognize it or who it meant was calling. Only when the call disconnected then started ringing again did you finally register that someone was trying to call you. Reddington was trying to call you.

‘Right. Right, of course, he’ll know what’s happened by now.’

“Hello?”

“(Y/n), darling, I was worried you were ignoring me.” His voice had the same nonchalance it normally did, and yet it was marginally softer than usual. You knew it was on your behalf that he didn’t go immediately into questioning you. Somehow, he knew you would need this sense of normalcy from him, a constant in a world ever-changing.

“I could never ignore you, red.”

You paused for a moment, debating your next question.

“Where are you right now?”

The control you maintained on your voice a moment ago slipped and it became a small, scared thing begging for comfort.

“Already on my way, my dear. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

You felt a wave of relief flood through you. Five minutes. You just had to make it five more minutes. Red was not a miracle worker, but you knew if anyone could help you, it would be him. He would do whatever he could to ensure your parents had the best treatment possible, and you didn’t even have to ask.

“Will you take me somewhere quiet please?”

“You should be with your parents.”

“Please, Red. I can’t be in this damn hospital any longer.”

You heard him sigh, and knew you had won. He wasn’t particularly fond of hospitals, but you downright hated them.

“Two more minutes, darling, then somewhere quiet. Dembe and I will be waiting for you outside.”

You didn’t bother staying on the phone, choosing instead to grab all your things and hurry towards the exit, desperate to leave this stupid white hellhole as quickly as possible. Dembe was waiting for you when you reached the doors, ready to take your bags and put them in the back. You didn’t even have the energy to hand them to him, just stood limply while he grabbed them from you and mumbled out a thank you. You felt like a zombie again as you trudged toward the car, then flung yourself into the seat. You slumped against Reddington, face burrowed into his shoulder.

“Is this real?” He shifted beneath you and draped an arm over your waist, his thumb rubbing circles on your back.

“Unfortunately so.”

You choked back a sob and tightened your grip on his suit.

“The place we’re going… can it be dark too? I like things better in the dark.”

He let out a soft hum of affirmation and something in you realized he was already planning on it. Perhaps if both of you were different people you’d be creeped out by this, but you had long since gotten used to his surveillance. He liked to tell you one could never be too careful.

“Red? One more thing?”

He hummed again to let you know he was listening.

“The man that hit them… I want him to hurt.”

He let out a soft chuckle and draped something over your back.

“That can be arranged.”

[flightyalrighty]

YOU LITERALLY DID THE EXACT SAME EDIT I DID AND POSTED IN MY DISCORD LMAO, GREAT MINDS

[hypersexualshanks]

shanks hates being teased, which makes him an absolute hypocrite, because he loves when he's the one doing the teasing. loves to spend slow mornings or drunk nights lazily rubbing his thumb over your clit, keeping his voice soft and deep while he taunts you for getting so worked up over him barely touching you. he'll purr gentle praise while he teases you, murmuring about how cute you are when you're desperate, how adorable it is when your thighs tremble and your cunt tightens around nothing.

he's a menace when he's eating you out, teasing your clit with soft licks and running the tip of his tongue along the rim of your hole. he'll spend minutes just kissing your inner thighs and nuzzling against you before he finally decides to suck your clit or thrust his tongue inside you.

he'll finger you under the guise of finally giving you what you really want, only to teasingly rub your g-spot and softly scold you when you whine. he's only teaching you to be patient, after all. he'll intensify his touches painfully slowly until you're finally about to cum, then he'll gently slip his fingers out and stroke his own cock at the sight of your flushed face and heaving chest. he can never hold himself back for too long, though; it always ends with him fucking as many orgasms out of you as he can.

[maxellminidisc]

Idk call me a fucking bitch or something but sometimes I get really sick of having watched something with a lot of depth, creativity, or some real sense of artistic exploration, and then wanting to share something about it on here, going to the tags to maybe find some gif sets or something and having to wade through the most reductive fanfic brained shit about it. Like maybe I dont want to see au's, self inserts, or god awful mischaracterizations somebody pulled out their ass about tragic figures or raconteurs in fiction or media. Maybe I would just like to appreciate and bask in what the story is giving me, maybe I'd like to entertain or a have a mature in depth discussion on what themes it may have for me and what other avenues of discussion it might prompt, what it may have spoken to me in terms of my experiences as someone with intersecting identities if it did and if it applied, all without reducing the goddamn story to shipping and shit.

[the-simple-creature]

🚨SPOILERS BELOW🚨

They… they adopted him… my boy… he’s so happy…

[osiiiris]

✨WHAT A WONDERFUL TIME TO POST SOME COPIIIA CONTENT!✨

You Will Never Walk Alone is a beautiful, immersive fanfiction by the always adorable @lilspacewolfie. This illustration is one of two that I’ve been working on for this wonderful story, inspired by the vibes I get when I read it 🌹

Why two versions:

I was fairly quick with this one, completing the full drawing in a day. However, as usual, my process involves stepping back for a few days before revisiting the drawing to see how I feel about it with fresh eyes. And that’s usually where the problems start.

In this particular case, I couldn’t wrap my mind around the finished version. Something felt incomplete, so I began adding elements and details, but nothing seemed to satisfy me… until I tried removing things. Colors, details, shadows… I kept simplifying until I reverted back to the original sketch. And that was it: peace of mind. Just a simple, rough black sketch was what I needed. Funny.

Since the colored version is finished anyway, you’ll get that one too.

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

"Love them Well"

Part Two to Kiss Them Well

Masterlist

Warnings: fluff, mentions of trauma, scars (let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 482 words

Imagine he has his own share of scars. Be it a long one across his chest, several tiny ones across his arms, or a large round one on his leg that required months of physical therapy.

And they piss you off.

How dare someone even think to try to ruin or hurt someone so beautiful? You wanted to hunt down everyone who had and show them exactly what you were made of.

"Comes with the job, love," he said quietly to you one night. You had been looking at his scars for what felt like hours, learning the stories behind them, kissing them as he did yours. And growing more angry at the people who gave them to him.

"Yeah, well, it sucks," you grumbled.

He laughed then. A sound that you wanted to hear for the rest of your life even though you didn't believe you deserved it. You were sure you didn't deserve him at all.

He loves your scars because they show that you had survived hell. You hate his scars because of what he had to go through to get them.

But of course, that would never make you love him any less. Not by a long shot.

One night, you had stayed out later than you meant to, time had gotten away from you, and you couldn't help it. You stumble back into your home, exhausted, and find him lying down on the couch, shirtless(which was never a sight you minded), a random movie playing on the TV that he wasn't paying attention to.

It made you smile. It's the exact thing you did every time he was out late or away. You rarely slept in bed when he wasn't there.

It takes a while before he finally spots you, but he does.

"Hey you," he says, sitting up.

You walk up to him and stand in between his legs. His hands go up to your waist, and he sighs as he presses his face against your stomach. You put your arms around his shoulders, kissing the top of his head.

"What are you doing up?"

He looked at you and frowned. "Waiting for you."

"Why?"

You saw the scars tracing his body and felt that familiar rush of anger. But even that was overpowered by warmth spreading through you. He looked so tired but still stayed up nonetheless. It was a small thing maybe, but it felt as if you fell in love with him all over again. And yes, that included his scars.

"Why not?"

And you fell again.

"It's late."

"You wait for me," he argued.

"I would wait forever for you."

He looked surprised at that statement. You can't imagine why.

"Forever's a long time."

And again.

You trace his face with your fingers. You could spend an eternity tracing every line on his body. You would do so if the universe would let you.

"You're worth forever."

[oloner2307]

2019: "I wasn't sure if uh... you needed two blankets or just one?"

2024:

[toxintouch]

Kinktober speedrun time! Used the Mirror prompt on this list. Thank you for the inspo! Further details below the cut so that the above the cut stays safe for anyone who is just scrolling through!

18+ Content MDNI || Dom!Reader x Leander

PROMPT/KINK(S): Dom!Reader, Mirror Use. Edging/Orgasm Denial + Light Degradation & Name calling (Leander being referred to as a dog but he’s really into it, promise) + Power Exchange & Sub/Dom Dynamics

OTHER INFO: Leander has a dick, anatomy of Reader/POV Character remains unspecified; "they" pronouns used.

Leander has the straight backed posture of a man who was given etiquette lessons.  His mannerisms speak of wealth and class, yet they can’t help but observe that he looks completely comfortable while down on his knees.

His back muscles flex as he works himself, sweat slipping down his spine, pooling in the dimples just above his ass.  He’s strung tight, the veins in his arms straining as he strokes a quick, even rhythm.  His dick is flushed a painful red, copious amounts of pre-cum dripping down his wrist and splattering onto his thick thighs, some of it even dirtying the floor below when his strokes become too enthusiastic.

(They wonder how best to make him clean it later–he does so love to be ordered to lick up his own mess–but this floor is probably just as filthy as anywhere else in the Wick, despite appearances–and they don’t think they can find it in themself to make use of his mouth again after watching that.)

The full length mirror hanging in front of Leander is a new addition to the room. Something they’d wheedled out of him with nothing but an easy promise, whispered into his ear down at the bar.  It was theirs not a full day later: a polished brass antique with a priceless clear finish.

His back is to them, but they can see everything they need to by gazing at his reflection.

His strokes stutter, faltering, and they watch as his abdominals jump rapidly. His hand makes a few more shaky attempts before he stops himself with a shudder, breathing hard and squeezing his cock at the base to cut off his own orgasm. They give a little hum of approval, waiting.

“Count.”  They prompt, when he fails to remember on his own.  

They watch his throat bob with effort as he swallows, his jaw trembling around his answer.  “Five.”

“Good boy,” they say, their voice flat and unrewarding.  Dismissive. "Guess that Hightown education really paid off for you, huh?" He whines at that, his palms slicking along his thighs, awaiting their instruction.  He glances at them in the mirror, eyes hopeful. “Again,” they prompt, “and keep your eyes on yourself until I tell you.  During, too. You were closing them a lot. It's just you and the mirror until you've earned otherwise.”

Bites his lip, beginning to stroke himself again.

The next edge comes more quickly.

His eyebrows draw up, mouth falling open, back arching.  His cock jumps and this time he falls back onto his hands to keep from giving into temptation.  His eyes travel the length of the mirror, his neck taught with tension as he pants.  They notice his gaze darting along their form for a moment, greedily stealing along their silhouette in the looking glass. A quick glance of the place where their legs are splayed open as they lounge on the bed behind him, toying with themself idly.

He’s back to form so seamlessly, he probably thinks they didn’t even notice. The next number falls out of his mouth without prompting, as if to cover for his earlier sleight.

"..."

“Baby,” he whines, fidgeting without further instruction. His fingers return to his dick when they don't reply, ghosting over his wet, swollen cockhead.  He knows they hate the way that epithet sounds in his voice, the condescending lilt he manages to wrap around the syllables. “Sweetheart. Please, may I–”

“Bad dog,” they admonish.  They don't elaborate–let him figure out for himself which breach of protocol they're scolding him for.

“Again. And if you can’t behave, I’ll have to put you outside.”

18+ Master List | SFW Master List ✦Kinktober Speedrun on Ao3

Consider: this type of power play with yandere!Leander...you watching him when he's usually the one watching you...

[temsiik]

The only problem with the Edward/Winry ship is that "Edwin" is also just a name, so the tag here brings up a lot of other content as well.

[diathadevil]

Aftermath.

[bubblegumflavor]

-And then I knew. Johnny was the only thing Dally ever loved.-

(and they lived happily ever after <3)

[creepy-old-memes]

oh my god you don’t like babes??!?!?😟😳🙀 no waaaay!!!!!🙅‍♀️😵❌ what a unique and interesting opinion!!!!🤔🤨 👏 ive never heard that before!!!! !! 🤌😸😯 so glad you told me so i can stop 🛑 ✋ 🚔 i was definitely only shipping it for internet approval 🫶🤝👊 now that i know it’s unpopular i can repent and change my ways 🙏🤞👼

[profeyandere]

𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐃 𝐑. ─── ☾ 𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄

ʟɪɴᴋꜱ ↪ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋʟɪꜱᴛ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ

ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏꜱ ↪ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.2ᴋ ↪ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴅᴏɴᴀʟᴅ ʀᴇꜱꜱʟᴇʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ↪ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴀʙᴜꜱᴇ, ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘꜱʏᴄʜᴏʟᴏɢɪᴄᴀʟ ᴀʙᴜꜱᴇ, ᴀɴɢᴜɪꜱʜ, ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀ, ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

Each one on one end of the sofa, that's how it had been for the last few months and since you had started this 'extraordinary' relationship where physical contact barely existed between the two of you; just a sad hug in which you showed no feelings, just a sweet goodbye kiss in the morning and occasionally you held hands when you went out to dinner together outside the house. It wasn't his fault either, you couldn't point out and much less accuse him of all the traumas that a previous relationship had caused you; The mere fact of looking at him, at that end of the soft furniture, caused an uncomfortable churn in your stomach, as if your intestines were intertwining and knotting to make you feel worse than you already did. It wasn't your fault either, at least not entirely. Your previous boyfriend had not been an example to follow in terms of how to lead a relationship, not with the constant hitting, yelling and insults that made you feel physically and mentally null by his side, as if you were a simple rag that he could lash out when he felt helpless due to the stressful work he did and the constant tension on his shoulders; You couldn't escape from that prison that you had put yourself in many years ago, at least that's what the people who knew you and had given up on you told you. You couldn't blame those people who left in the end, friends and family who had seen you at your worst, with those bruises on your arms and legs, the cuts that were hidden under your shirts and the traumas that managed to cover your hair.

A sigh escaped your lips as you remembered that last night you were with that man. He wasn't the tallest, nor the strongest, but he could definitely lift you off the ground without problems and throw you down the stairs like he already did on one occasion; You were thankful that the emergency doctors didn't find out about the situation, or at least that's what you thought at first.

"What are you thinking?" The man with you in the living room suddenly asked, causing you to jump slightly in place as you returned to reality, turning your head to see the blonde, gently removing the nail of your thumb from between your teeth, a bad habit that you had taken to relieve stress. ·You know you don't have to tell me, but I would appreciate it if you did."

You grimaced slightly before returning your gaze to the front. You didn't want to ignore him, you wanted to tell him what was going on in your mind, but in the half year in which you had maintained the relationship, it was as if there was still something that was hammering in your head, as if you still thought that at some point that man who hurt you so much would destroy the door and take you back to the hole you never thought you could get out of. Donald, on the other hand, being aware of your evasiveness, decided to remain silent and not force you to give details of your thoughts, sighing softly as he calmed his breathing a little; Maybe he had come home and talked a little louder, maybe he had accidentally pushed you and hadn't realized it, perhaps he had accidentally kicked your foot under the table while you were eating dinner. There were many possibilities, but he didn't know what he had done to make you silent and barely look at him.

"It's no big deal."

Ressler couldn't help but sigh briefly at your response, having been the same as always. He didn't want to force you, he would never do it and you knew it better than anyone, he would give you the space you needed and be patient with you but, as your psychologist told you, he wouldn't wait forever and it would be a matter of time that maybe you could lose him; your therapist didn't tell you in those exact words, but you understood that and you couldn't blame him if one day he just walked out of your life and didn't come back. You had to start communicating more with him, explain your concerns, maybe talk about what the psychologist was telling you, and do some of the trust exercises that suggested you do with him so that your fears would begin to disappear.

"I had thought about taking a couple of vacation days, I still have some accumulated from last year and I don't think Cooper would mind if I took them," he commented suddenly, once again making your attention on him. Through the light of the television, you could see his small smile, barely noticeable, but calm and pleasant, a smile that you loved. "Aram told me about a retreat in the mountains, a secluded place where we could go skiing or skating."

The mention of a retreat in the mountains caught your attention even more and, with attention, you watched as he handed you a brochure that you took. You didn't pay attention to the name of the place, it was what interested you the least, so you quickly opened it and scrolled down to see the cabin offers, and their different outdoor activities, individually or as a couple and in groups; You had never gone so far from the city centre, you didn't allow yourself to go alone either and it's not like you had the opportunity to do it with someone else.

"I like it," you said, looking back at him, being able to see how his smile grew bigger as you expressed your liking for his proposal, but it quickly disappeared when he saw how you didn't seem to show as much enthusiasm as him; He didn't expect you to jump off the couch or run around like a little girl, but at least he hoped he could see you smile. "What's wrong?"

"I know that there is something that bothers you, that has you in a state of anxiety and I still don't know what it is," he responded, being able to see how you made that face again that in a way he liked because he thought you were charming, but it also bothered him, because he knew that there was something that kept you going. "I just want to help you, I want you to trust me, to talk things over,” he indicated, desperate, settling down on the sofa to turn his body towards you, to show that he was willing to talk about it, to listen to you. "Was it because of something I've done?"

That question left you completely speechless. You opened your eyes in surprise. You didn't expect that your lack of communication would make him understand that he could be the problem, that he was the one to blame for you being silent, not saying a single word and staying in your own thoughts instead of paying attention to the program that was playing you liked it so much and what was on television.

“No, no,” you quickly denied, turning your body a little more abruptly to begin that intervention with him. "It's not your fault, Don. Far from it, how can you think that? I mean… Damn it."

Ressler now grimaced seeing you like that, trying to find the right words to express yourself. Your eyes were scanning him quickly and your hands were expressing your frustration, your inner rage at not having been able to tell him everything that you should have told him before.

"Take your time, you don't have to give me the answers right now," he intervened, extending his hand towards you, which you didn't take at first. Before your intense gaze on him, on that part of him, he removed it and positioned it on the sofa, to make you see that you could be calm while you were in his presence, that there was no reason to get upset. "I just want to know how to help you. This situation will not be good for both of us in the future. I want to give you time, I swear, but if there are things I do that bother you, I need to know so I don't make that mistake twice."

Given his sincere words, and his willingness to help you, you couldn't help but feel that churn in your stomach again; You felt selfish for not letting him understand you, for not allowing him to see beyond what you allowed him.

“It's not your fault, you haven't done anything wrong,” you said suddenly, swallowing hard as you tried to collect all the points before speaking. You didn't want to mislead him, much less when you saw the worried expression in the way he looked at you, but you knew that something would always escape and you didn't want Donald to live in the shadow of what your mind made you think. "It is the memory."

"The memory?" He repeated, in the form of a question, making you nod slightly. "What remember?"

“The memory of what I once experienced,” you finally mentioned, lowering your head so he couldn't see you, or maybe it was a way for you to protect yourself from how he might react to your words. "I know I'm fine, here with you, I'm aware and many people tell me so, but something inside me tells me that's not the case. That he will return, maybe not today, but that one day you may not be there, he will knock down the door and take me to that hole from which this time I would not come out alive."

Ressler remained silent, static. He didn't think you could feel that way but, looking at it in perspective, that could be the justification for your absence when he spoke to you or the way you sometimes looked at the doors of some rooms or the apartment itself.

·He left and he's not coming back, now he's a ghost from the past that torments you, but he's not going to come back," the blonde murmured, noticing how your hair managed to cover your face in the right way so that he couldn't see you. "He's in jail, he's never coming back. Do you remember that emergency doctor? Thanks to him he is not here and you are here."

Donald didn't hear you say a single word and, at that moment, he remembered the day they managed to rescue you from the hands of your abuser. It was his eleventh case with Reddington, that criminal he hated so much, but whose help allowed him to catch a murderer who was responsible for harming those men and women who at some point had repeatedly and continuously inflicted harm on a relative of them; whether they were children, husbands, partners or any other type of blood relative or not. The last victim of his actions was your partner at the time, a man who was in a big mess due to his problems at work and a certain diversion of capital, who paid for the frustration and stress of being found with you, hitting you, burning you or just insulting you. On one occasion, your injuries were so serious that you had to go to the emergency room because of the trauma he caused you when he hit you with some blunt object, you don't even remember what he hit you with, he just did it and the next thing you remember is that you were in the hospital.

"No, thanks to you and Lizz, he is no longer here," you said after remembering the outcome of that fateful case. "You managed to save him, but he went to jail for that diversion of capital and for… Well, you know."

"Your handsome agent with a shiny badge came to rescue you, don't forget that part of the story," he pointed out proudly, smiling again and getting a little closer to you, making you laugh softly at his silly idea. "You were radiant the day I met you."

"I was wearing my winter pyjamas and I had a bruise on my eye, I don't know what's so radiant about that," you indicated, rolling your eyes at his attempted play, feeling his hand on yours, which caught your attention. "You're not sweet, don't be sweet."

Without you being able to help it, and with a soft laugh, Donald grabbed your hand and gently pulled you closer to him. You could have pushed him away, you could have pushed him, you could have asked him to leave you alone, or you could have just pushed his hand away from yours, but you couldn't do it, not Donald. That man, the same one you were snuggling with now, was the one who had taken you out of the darkness and shown you that life was much more beautiful than anyone could think. He was the person who had been there, the person who hadn't given up and he was the person you finally felt safe with.

[mrsjellymunson]

Hello, Stranger

Miniseries Masterlist

Eddie Munson x gn!reader

CW: 18+ MDNI. Caution for mature and dark themes and allusions to crime and violence. Hopefully there’s some comedy too 🤭 The dark, weird, black comedy Stranger Things/The Blacklist AU that, arguably, should never have existed 😆

Hello, Stranger

Hey, Boss (A Prequel)

Hi, Friends

My masterlist

I have a general taglist that you’d be very welcome to join 🖤

[vamprisms]

i know i shouldn't be surprised that the incest family show attracts a fair amount of fans with bad taste but i don't go in the tag to see poorly written x sister oc princess y/n targaryen fanfiction i just want to see aemond in his cunty little eye patch