#then i saw the bottom where you signed lol

[bunnygirl678]

So like i spend a ton of time looking at Reguri Art

Like enough time that I'm pretty familiar with the different styles and can kinda guess who the artist is on different pieces.

I saw mine this morning and I think I know who did it! But then I scrolled down and noticed they signed it lmao

So @reguriflop THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!!

I love it!!!!!!!

[pathologicalreid]

for the fear of falling apart | part three

when it seems like a return to normalcy is impossible, you decide that something has to give, but will it bend or will it break?

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue

series masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: angst content warnings: fear of drowning, therapy, mommy and daddy issues, sigmund freud, nightmares and ptsd, sleep deprivation, takes place during 15x4 "saturday" (max does not exist in this au), stalkers, yelling, police, domestic disturbance, broken dishes, severe self image issues, crying, implies that jj is sometimes not the greatest friend, marriage and marriage counseling, mentions the death of grace lynch, the chameleon arc, reader and spencer are both broken people sry. things get resolved (or do they?) word count: 5.13k a/n: i'm trying to come to terms with the fact that people will not like how this part goes, but i do think it's important to remember that this is not where it ends. it's probably easy to guess what episode I'm rewriting next. lol. let me know your thoughts and feelings because i am dying to know.

“Are you glad to be back at work?” Your therapist asked you, writing down your personal information on the form on her clipboard before she met your stare.

Chewing impatiently on the inside of your lip, you glanced over to the clock that was hung above the door, dooming you to another forty-five minutes with Dr. Harmon. “Yes, I love desk duty,” you told her, flashing a fake smile in her direction.

The older woman looked at you doubtfully, and you silently begged for her to sign your return to duty forms. “I thought we spoke about using sarcasm as a coping mechanism,” she responded in a way that made you feel chastised.

You raised your eyebrows at her, gray hair neatly combed into a tight bun, you had spent more time with your therapist for the past two months than you had any of your family – the rest of your time was spent retraining your body, usually within the limitations of your doctor’s orders. “And I thought we talked about there being worse coping mechanisms that I could be using,” you countered, leaning back in her chair.

She shrugged helplessly, “Well, I’m not sure about signing your release forms. You could be a liability in the field.”

Eyes widening, you tilted your head to the side, “No, no, no, I’ve grown a new appreciation for the desk workers in the BAU. I even stopped laughing when people refer to Agent Anderson as Grunt Anderson,” you informed her, nodding as if that would help convince her of your honesty.

Checking off a box on your form, she set the clipboard on her side table, just out of your view. Taking a deep breath, Dr. Harmon leaned forward and folded her hands over her knee, “Have you spoken to your sister since the last time I saw you?”

You leaned your head back, staring at the tiles of the ceiling as any hope of returning to the field left your body.

One of your very first dates with Spencer had been at the Academy’s shooting range, you had a lucky spot there, it was where you had aced your qualification as a cadet, and it was pure luck that it had been available when you arrived.

As your paper target was brought forward, you slipped off your headphones and set your weapon down, studying the results as you chewed on your bottom lip nervously.

“Hey,” Spencer said from behind you, casually leaning against the wall behind you.

You jumped slightly as the sound of his voice took you away from your anxiety, “Hey,” you echoed, holstering your weapon as you sent your target back for someone to change it out.

“I thought you were going to come to the BAU after therapy,” he explained, arms crossed in front of his chest in his charcoal suit, camouflaging himself with the steely gray of the shooting range.

Pursing your lips, you made sure you had your phone in your pocket before grabbing your bag, “I wanted to get some practice in before my requalification test.”

He looked surprised for a moment, “Did your therapist sign your return to duty?”

“No,” you muttered, knowing that you wouldn’t be eligible to take your firearms requalification until after you had been cleared by a psychiatrist.

Any surprise quickly left his face, “What did she say, then?”

You rolled your eyes, “She told me that it’s possible that my strained relationship with my parents is negatively affecting my performance in my sessions. Then she threw a Freud biography at my head.”

“Did you talk to her about the nightmares?” He asked, following you as you checked out of the shooting range, waving to a gaggle of cadets as they noticed the BAU agents in their general vicinity.

Faltering as you opened the door, you flung the glass door open and trudged out of it, “I have it under control,” you lied through your teeth, continuing your way to the elevator.

The tapping of Spencer’s shoes signified that he was following you, holding his hand over the sensor while you stepped in and using his knuckle to press the parking garage button, “You were up all night last night,” he retorted, “She could help you develop a coping mechanism that works for you so that you can get some rest, angel.”

You were getting tired of those words, “Well, maybe we’ll reach a breakthrough next week. You never know.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Being so unamenable,” he accused.

Shaking your head as you stepped out of the elevator, you hoisted your bag back over your shoulder, “Is unamenable genius-speak for pain in the ass?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it is,” he retorted, swiping the keys out of your hands before unlocking the car and getting in the driver’s seat. You had been cleared to drive weeks ago, but Spencer still insisted on driving you.

You groaned, “My recent brush with death has made it difficult for me to let bygones be bygones.”

Pulling out of the parking spot, he carefully placed both of his hands on the steering wheel, “And here I thought we were actually going to move on with our lives.”

“No one holds a grudge like a youngest child,” you informed him, leaning your head against the window and wishing you had driven separately.

Being at home wasn’t much better than being at Quantico. You quickly changed and settled yourself on the couch while Spencer sat across from you, legs crossed in the wingback chair as he finished filling in a crossword book that you had started that morning.

You watched the clock tick, the diffused orange light of the sunset beamed through the curtains, and you felt yourself settle. Stiff joints and aching muscles unwound on the supple leather of the couch, and as you let your eyes fall shut, you felt the breeze of someone walking by before Spencer stopped in front of you.

Gently, he draped a knit blanket over you, tucking you in before crouching and dropping a gentle kiss to your temple.

Y/N is down, she’s been hit. We need an ambulance now.

I know, I’m sorry, I know it hurts.

It’s okay. I’ve got you.

“Honey, wake up.”

You startled awake on the couch, wadding up the blanket in your fists as your eyes adjusted to the dim environment of the apartment. The sun had set, dipping below the skyline as you stared ahead.

Concerned brown eyes bore into you as you caught your breath, Spencer reached over and flicked on the table lamp next to you, “You’re alright,” he cooed, gently enough to make you want to cry. “It was just a bad dream,” he told you, cupping your cheek and studying your expression.

Nodding absently, you pulled yourself into a sitting position, the familiar knit blanket falling in a puddle around your waist. “I was in the parking garage again,” you preemptively answered his next question. You were usually in the parking garage, sometimes you were on the beach, and once you had been fully underwater.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Spencer asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

You shook your head and ignored the defeated look on Spencer’s face, instead burying your face in your hands and taking a few deep breaths.

He waited for a moment before speaking again, reaching out and adjusting the bunched-up fabric of your t-shirt, “Are you hungry? I made soup.”

“Yeah,” you breathed, crossing your arms in front of your stomach, afraid it would start growling at the mention of food.

As you watched Spencer get up and walk over to the kitchen, you let yourself feel like everything was alright for the slightest moment. You wanted your apartment to be your safe space where there were no serial killers or sisters or hospitals, but there was a classified file on the kitchen table, photos of you and your sister littered the walls, and there was an entire drawer in the home office dedicated to your hospital stay.

Melding into the couch cushions, you ignored the stiffness in your side, the scars that marred your skin were healed over, but the memory would stick with you for a lifetime. It felt like a phantom pain, irritating your skin whenever you thought too much about it, or whenever your therapist asked you about Grace Lynch.

It didn’t bring you a lot of comfort to know that she was dead, murdered by her own father after conning her ex-girlfriend into giving her money. Everett Lynch was the threat now, and you were stuck on the bench.

Pulling your knees to your chest, you rested your cheek on your knee as Spencer ladled soup into a bowl and presented it to you, complete with a few ice cubes to cool it down. He waltzed back into the kitchen to clean up when his phone rang.

You ignored his conversation while you stirred the ice cubes around in your bowl, the soft clinking of them mesmerizing your tired brain. You ate while he spoke on the phone, mentioning something about a case. Pushing any thoughts of serial killers away, you just ate your soup.

Sipping at the broth, you grew curious about what was going on over the phone, but you tried to mind your business, scooping at the last noodles in the bowl before setting it down on the coffee table.

“Who was that?” You asked, eyes following Spencer as he walked back over to the living room, slipping his phone in his pocket as he sat next to you on the couch.

He paused for a moment, and you immediately regretted asking, “Uh, it was JJ.”

You supposed it had to mean something that he elected to tell you the truth instead of lying to you, but you were no longer feeling optimistic, “Ah.”

“Don’t start,” he said immediately.

You turned to him, raising your eyebrows curiously and pushing yourself into the corner of the couch – away from him, “Start what, Spencer?”

Spencer put his hands up, “Picking a fight with me over JJ’s feelings. JJ, Tara, Luke, and Penelope are working on a stalker case, it’s nothing that we need to worry about.”

“I’m not going to pick a fight with you, I already told you that I forgive you,” you told him, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He groaned in frustration, “You can say it all you want, but you haven’t. You haven’t forgiven me.”

As he usually was, Spencer was right, you hadn’t forgiven him for lying to you about what had happened between him and JJ. You wanted to. You wanted to find it in yourself to be the bigger person and just tell him it was fine. All you wanted was to move on, but you were crashing into roadblock after roadblock. “Are you going to work that case?”

“No, it’s a classic stalking case, they’ll make it without me,” he said, turning on the couch to face you.

You swallowed thickly, “You can go if you’d rather be there,” you reassured him, wondering if he’d be happier at work than at home with you. Someone needed to make a decision, someone needed to decide whether or not the two of you were going to keep going or if you were going to call it off. You didn’t want it to be you, you were afraid of which option you might choose.

Spencer frowned, “Why are you trying to get rid of me?”

“I’m not,” you answered.

“Yes, yes you are,” he challenged, leaning forward to get a better look at you.

Shaking your head, you threw your hands up in surrender, “You don’t have to go. You can stay here. You live here. Who the fuck am I to tell you to leave?”

“And now you’re escalating the situation,” he observed, straightening up and watching you carefully.

You didn’t consider yourself an angry person. The two of you didn’t fight often, but as you considered your options, you wondered if it could help. Maybe you could replicate the feeling of a good cry. Maybe all you need is a good fight. Just talk it out – loudly. “I’m not escalating anything. I’m not starting anything. In case you haven’t noticed, this has been going on for months.”

He had noticed, he could probably give you an exact date and time to point out when everything fell apart. Was it inside the pawn shop? Was it in the courtyard outside of Rossi’s wedding? “I thought we had made some real progress at the hospital,” he challenged.

Getting up from the couch, you took a deep breath and tossed the blanket over the back, “You cannot seriously think that. You’re too smart to believe that, Spencer. The idea that we fixed everything while I was hopped up on Xanax and painkillers. It’s… it’s…” you stumbled over your words for a moment. It’s crazy. You wanted to tell him, but you couldn’t do that to him. Spencer had spent his whole life having that word thrown at his mother, and he spent adulthood fearing he’d have a schizophrenic break. “It’s outlandish,” you finally finished.

Spencer looked up at you from the couch, “Is it outlandish to think that the history we have together would help mend our relationship?”

You rolled your eyes, “I don’t know, Spencer, let’s take a look at your history with my sister,” you snapped.

“Oh, come on,” he protested.

“No,” you commanded, “Sit down and shut up. I’ve spent months waiting for you to get it, but apparently, I need to spell it out for you.”

To your surprise, he listened, watching you in silence as you took a deep breath, picked up your soup bowl, and brought it into the kitchen. Your heartbeat pounded like thunder in your ears.

Standing in front of him, you crossed your arms in front of your chest, “I want you to empathize with me.” You calculated every word you said, “We’ve known each other for nine years. We’ve been together for seven, and I- I had the rug pulled out from under me. God, you went on a date with my sister. You took her to a football game as a hater of organized sports. My beautiful, prom queen, soccer star, gem of the family older sister.”

“It wasn’t a date, Penelope went with us,” Spencer added patiently.

You peered down at him, “When you asked her to go with you, did you do it with the intention that you would be taking her on a date?”

His shoulders slackened, “Yeah,” he answered softly.

“And you know that she loves you. If you went to her right now and told her you wanted to be with her, that there’s a chance she’d consider it. She’d at least have to think about it,” you told him, confidence dissipating as your hands started to tremble and you silently begged yourself not to cry.

Spencer watched you suspiciously, “What gave you the impression that I want to be with her instead of you?”

You faltered, just for a moment, “Why wouldn’t you want to be with her?” You asked exasperatedly, letting your arms fall limply at your sides.

Pinching his eyebrows together, your boyfriend looked at you like you had grown a third eye, “She’s married? Her kids are my godchildren?”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you cursed yourself as tears stung your eyes, “Are those seriously the only reasons you can think of?” With all the brain power you knew he had, you couldn’t help but be disappointed.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Spencer groaned, “Putting aside the fact that I’d be destroying a marriage, not because it doesn’t matter, but because being with your sister isn’t even something I’d consider. This might not have occurred to you, but I have absolutely no interest in being with someone other than you!”

You huffed, “Please, she’s beautiful and athletic and older and you’ve known her for fifteen years!” You shouted over your shoulder, making your way back to the kitchen. There wasn’t anything you needed from in there, you just needed to keep moving.

“But she’s not you!” He yelled from the couch, finally getting up and following you to the kitchen.

Spinning around on your heel, you threw your arms in the air, “God, I know!” You swung your arms down, accidentally sending the bowl you had set on the counter down to the floor, breaking on impact. “Shit,” you muttered, immediately dropping to a crouch and starting to pick up the ceramic shards.

“Hey, wait, let me get it,” Spencer insisted, grabbing a kitchen towel from the drawer before laying it on the floor. He carefully picked up the larger shards, waving your hands away.

You clenched your hands and glared at him with bleary eyes, “Why? Why am I not allowed to clean up the mess that I made?”

Spencer sighed, “You’re crying. I don’t want you to get hurt because you can’t see well,” he told you, prompting you to sit back on the tile and watch him continue to pick up.

You crisscrossed your legs and watched him, “I’m sorry for yelling,” you whispered, so quietly that you weren’t even sure he had heard you.

Nodding in acknowledgment, Spencer gathered up the kitchen towel and set it on the counter, setting his hands on the counter and taking a deep breath, “I’m sorry for raising my voice,” he echoed your sentiments. He moved to the hall closet to get out the broom, interrupted by a knock on the door.

Confused, you poked your head over the counter and watched as Spencer opened the front door.

“Good evening, officer,” he greeted, casting a sidelong glance over at you.

Fuck.

You scrambled to your feet, careful not to step on any pieces of the bowl that remained on the floor and wiping beneath your eyes as you made your way to the door, peeking around the corner to find two DC Metro officers. “Agent Jareau?” One of the officers said curiously.

“Hi,” you waved timidly, looking between the two of them with your tail between your legs.

He looked surprised at the revelation of who lived here, recognizing you from a case you had consulted on months ago. “We were called here on a report of a domestic disturbance, your neighbor in said she heard ‘a lot of yelling before there was a crash and then everything went quiet’.”

The summation of events did nothing to slow your racing heart, “We had uh… we were having a disagreement, and I knocked over a bowl. It was an accident,” you reassured the officer, reaching out and taking Spencer’s hand as a sign of good faith.

“Are you sure?” He asked, looking at you expectantly.

You nodded in confirmation, “I’m really sorry about any inconvenience, but I promise there’s nothing to worry about.”

The DC Metro officers studied Spencer suspiciously, and you protectively moved in front of him. They were trained to see the worst-case scenario, but there was nothing happening here, “Well then, just uh… try to keep it down, I suppose.”

The two of you waved as they walked away, once the door was closed, you turned to face Spencer, “Are you alright?”

He looked a little pale, “I’m alright,” he nodded, gathering himself before going back to the hall closet. “That was weird,” he added.

Spencer’s interaction with police officers was limited to work with the bureau and his time in prison. He never had to explain an underage drunk person in the car or run when a party got too rowdy, but he wasn’t concerned with the confrontation, he was concerned that, for a moment, before you got there, those officers saw Spencer as a violent person. You stayed put, watching him sweep up the last of the bowl and take care of the sharp pieces with a keen eye.

“I’d never hurt you,” Spencer said softly, unnecessarily explaining to you.

You nodded, “I know. You’re not like that, baby. You’re not a violent person.” In fact, you had only seen Spencer aggressively violent one time in your life, and that was when his mother’s life was on the line. Stepping over to him, you lifted yourself so that you were sitting on the kitchen counter, meeting his eyes.

“She is not you,” he murmured, reaching out and taking both of your hands in his.

Chewing on the inside of your lip, your shoulders slumped ever so slightly, “I am well aware,” you offered.

He took a deep breath, “JJ would never ask me to recite Henry James to her or offer to go to the planetarium with me even after we spent all day on a case or sit through one of my lectures just to hear me talk about something I’m passionate about,” he began. "I can’t remember the last time I had a conversation about something I’m passionate about with your sister. Not one where she didn’t interrupt me or pawn me off on somebody else,” he told you, disconnecting one of your hands to wipe new tears from your cheeks.

“I- I’m not…” you breathed, overwhelmed as he sang your praises.

“I know you compare yourself to her,” he cut you off, “it’s normal for you to compare yourself to your older sister. I just didn’t know how lowly you thought of yourself until all of this was dug up.”

Frowning, you cocked your head to the side, “I do not compare myself to her,” you remarked.

He hummed in response, “It wasn’t up for debate. I’m not interested in your sister. I’m not interested in pursuing a relationship with anyone except for you. I am sorry that I never told you about the football game, but by the time you joined the team, six years had passed, and I didn’t think it was pertinent to tell you that your sister had rejected me. That is entirely on me, and I can’t change it. I can, however, spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”

Your breathing hitched, and the ghost of a potential proposal once again floated through the air, it made your heart ache. “One of these days you’re going to have to actually ask me to marry you,” you whispered, not sure how much longer you’d be able to sit and wait while he neglected to act upon his words.

“What do you want right now?” Spencer asked, studying your facial expression.

You have spent three months being mad at him, and you had to believe it all came down to tonight. Neither of you could keep going with things the way they were. “I’m not sure,” you answered.

Patiently, Spencer inquired, “Do you want to break up?”

If you told him you hadn’t thought about it, you’d be lying. It broke your heart to think about ending things with him, to think that six years together didn’t mean something to the both of you. Spencer had never given any inclination that he was interested in anyone else, so maybe he should’ve told you about the football game, but you shouldn't have let your insecurities block any attempt at reconciliation. “No,” you responded truthfully.

He had tried, too. The one-sided conversations he had with floral bouquets, taking time off of work to help you while you recovered, and he had even limited his contact with your sister. “Do you want to go to couple’s therapy?”

You had heard through the grapevine that your sister was trying marriage counseling with Will, something about working on their communication skills. With that in mind, you nodded, “We can try it out.”

“Do you know what you want?” He asked, settling a hand on your thigh.

Through the sheer curtains, you looked outside, “I want to go,” you informed him, hopping off of the kitchen counter and to your shared bedroom, pulling on a pair of socks.

Confused, Spencer followed you around the apartment, “Wait. Where are we going?”

“I’m going,” you said simply.

He looked surprised at this, “It’s the middle of the night in the twenty-second largest city in the country, you’re not going out alone.”

You paused for a moment at his concern, watching the defeated look on his face morph into one of relief when you responded, “Then put your shoes on,” you encouraged.

As you waited by the door, mindful to not walk through the apartment with your shoes on, he stopped in your bedroom for a moment before coming back out and slipping his sneakers on. “Where are we going?”

Grabbing your keys off of the hook, you opened the door and held it for Spencer as he followed your lead. “You know at the start of Moby Dick when Ishmael says when he finds himself growing grim about the mouth and wanting to knock people’s hats off, he takes to the sea?”

He nods, taking the keys from your hand and locking the door behind him, glancing briefly at your neighbor’s door before handing your keys back to you, “I’m familiar,” he confirmed.

“Well, I’m feeling rather grim about the mouth,” you told him assuredly, slipping your keys into your pockets and slowly making your way down the hold staircase of your apartment building, listening for Spencer’s footsteps right behind you.

Even with your back turned, you knew his expression would be one of confusion, “So, you want to take to the sea?”

You quickly shook your head, the very last place you wanted to be was near a body of water in the middle of the night, “Not particularly, but maybe the park and some fresh air would do me some good.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” he confirmed, stepping around you to hold the front door open so that you could walk outside, the cool night air stinging your face as you did.

Taking a deep breath, you looked at the night sky, the stars hidden through the city’s light pollution.

Upon reaching the park, which was just a small green space down the street from your apartment, Spencer led you to a cement bench, the two of you sitting down and sitting in silence. You welcomed the cold air filling your lungs, watching the fountain from a distance and admiring the way the headlights of a few passing cars reflected off of the water.

He kept a hand on your back, gently moving his hand up and down your spine as the two of you reveled in the startling nighttime peace. “I haven’t been fair to you,” you murmured nervously, looking over at him.

“None of this has been fair to anyone,” he reminded you.

You sighed, “JJ confessed her feelings, not the other way around, and I- I shouldn’t have held that against you for so long.” The admission came to you easily, holding your breath as you waited for him to agree.

Spencer’s silence worried you, but then he finally responded, “I probably would have done the same thing, but I don’t think it’s right for me to speculate how I would or wouldn’t have acted in your shoes.”

“I just… she’s always been perfect. The perfect daughter, the perfect wife, the perfect agent, and I’m… I’m just me,” you said helplessly, staring ahead at the fountain.

He took a deep breath, “You’re perfect to me.”

“Stop,” you chastised halfheartedly.

Chuckling, he placed his hand over yours, “I mean it. Sometimes perfection is about the final concoction and not about getting all of the steps right. You don’t need the perfect journey, and, to me, nothing proves that more than you.”

You hummed, “You’re sweet.”

 “For what it’s worth, I think, given the opportunity, you could be a perfect wife,” he said, nudging your leg with his knee, getting your head to snap to the side.

Jumping up from the bench, you smacked your hand over your mouth at the small black box that he had set on the stone surface. “What are you… what?” You asked breathlessly, looking behind you in the way people usually did when they were surprised, waiting to see if you were being pranked.

“It doesn’t have to be an engagement ring,” he reached down and snapped the box open, showing you the glimmering ring inside. “It can just be a promise because I am promising you right now, this is it for me. You are the only person I can see myself with, and I’m ready to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

Gaping at him, you looked between him and the ring before closing your mouth, “That sounds an awful lot like an engagement ring,” you told him, out of breath.

He nodded, “That’s because I want it to be.”

“Okay,” you answered.

“What?”

You giggled, he evidently hadn’t expected that answer, “Yes, Spencer.”

He stood up, tackling you in an embrace, “Thank goodness.” He said, relaxing into you as you returned his hug.

Over the past few months, you had been almost afraid of him asking you, worried that it would feel like an excuse. A band-aid over a bullet hole. But as you held each other tightly, all you felt was an overwhelming sense of right. This was where you were always meant to be. “Will you put it on me?”

He nodded slowly, sniffling as he pulled away from you, the warmth of his body leaving you as he nimbly took your left hand, slipping the ring on your fourth finger. The metal felt foreign on your skin, but you welcomed it nonetheless. “That has been sitting in my sock drawer for a year,” he admitted, placing both of his hands on your waist and meeting your eyes.

You beamed up at him, at both the revelation that he bought you a ring well before any of the trials and tribulations of the last few months and that he hid the ring in the one place you never touched – the seemingly bottomless abyss of unmated socks that Spencer called his sock drawer. “Thank you,” you breathed.

Spencer leaned his head down, hovering his lips just above your own, “For what, love?”

Blinking small tears out of your eyes, you answered, “For not giving up on us.”

He smiled, “Never,” he whispered before dropping his lips to yours, the intimacy of something as small as a kiss enough to bring butterflies to your stomach. “Do you want to go home? Or are you still feeling grim about the mouth?”

“Let’s go home, Spence,” you told him, pressing one last kiss to his lips before the two of you began the trek home, hand in hand.

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[worldly-fluster]

The LADS boys...when you go 'missing'???

(angst with some comedy cause it's fun)

So the plot is: you get tired of being near people, get overwhelmed and overstimulated so you need a bit to yourself...well you forgot to tell a certain someone you went MIA. He...panics? I don't think that's the right word for what he does.

Sylus(featuring the twins), Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel

ALSO-None of you are dating yet in any of these I write. Unless I specifically say so anyway. Lil note at bottom too lol

Sylus-

•So. He is definitely not panicking.

•He sooo knows where you are.

•He tells himself anyway.

•Only to realize that you weren't where he thought you were.

•You were supposed to be at one of his bunkers- your favorite bunker that he has in his possession. He even saw you go in there!

•But you aren't there?!

•The only way you could have left his/Mephisto's sight was if you literally disappeared. Like, poof Lola's gone.

•He looked everywhere in that place for you but he couldn't find a clue so he branched out.

•Poor Mephisto...his poor little wings, having to fly around like a, well, Chicken with its head cut off.

•It was actually a whole TWO days until he remembered that the twins existed and he could get their help.

•They were gone too??

•So, time skip until almost a week- 5 days, 8 hours and 37 seconds on the dot- he wasn't counting- go by and he gets a call from the twins.

•Apparently, they walked in on you having a breakdown and when you asked them for help to get you away from everything for a bit, they couldn't say 'no'.

•And all three of you completely forgot to tell the big boss man. Actually legitimately did forget.

•The twins were panicking about your well-being that they forgot about Sylus until you said you were okay enough to go back.

•lets just say, he was not pleased.

•All three of you- more like the twins only, he couldn't stay mad at you- were 'grounded' until he said so.

Xavier-

•He didn't really think much of you being gone at first, he just figured Jenna sent you on another mission by yourself again. The third time that week.

•Yeah he was worried, but he only got really worried when he asked Tara about it and she said you went on leave.

•He almost immediately signed for his own leave.

•He tried calling, texting, everything. But you didn't answer so he thought the worst.

•Where was his little teddy bear?

•he tried your apartment- he teleported into it and no it wasn't trespassing, he was checking on a friend. What do you take him for? A criminal??

•he tried all your favorite shops, cafe's and even asked Zayne, your doctor, whom had no idea about this but we'll get to his reaction later.

•it was barely two days until he found you.

•at a cat Cafe/bed and breakfast that you told him about in passing a few weeks before.

•He remembered it only because he remembered you were wearing that cute little blue blouse he got you for your birthday a month ago while telling him and he saw someone wearing something similar to it while he was pani-sorry, calmly looking for you.

•Oh he pouted.

•he whined.

•he almost cried.

•so a few head pats and apologies later he was docile and telling you not to do that again, without him anyway.

•he didn't think to ask Jenna about your whereabouts, she knew where you were going the whole time.

Zayne-

•He only realized something was wrong when Xavier popped in asking where you were. Saying he couldn't find you.

•Zayne thinking rationally, first tried to contact you.

•because who would ever ignore their doctor?

•...wait no, you have done that.

•Panic.

•has his own mental breakdown for a few minutes then immediately goes home because life is too much and he needs a bit.

•...why did he find you cuddled in his bed with all the plushies you have given him.

•you're gonna be the death of him, he swears.

Rafayel-

•He noticed immediately.

•boy texts you every other minute because he's bored. Wether it's a meme of a fish or about how sharks eat for free. In this economy?? He thinks not.

•so when you don't text back the normal 'k' within 2 minutes, he calls Thomas to inform him that the assassin sea urchins finally got you and are now after him.

•on a serious note, he is ✨ panicking ✨

•you are officially 'missing' for about a day and a half when he finally gets a message back from you.

•he ignores all messages and calls from you until he sees you in person.

•acts like he doesn't know you but then his act quickly falls apart as he starts whining about it being more than 800 years and something about the assassin urchins being back, crabs wanting vengeance and how barnacles are the new currency of the new age.

•Just text him next time you want a long vacation from everything. He knows the best spots.

##So I might actually write out these things at some point when my brain starts working correctly, who knows when that will happen lol##

[nana-au]

could you write an inumaki smut where reader asks him to use his cursed speech on her>.< BTW I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH ITS SO GOOOOD

haii anon, ur wish is my command! i hope you like the direction i took with this! it starts out dramatic, but i thought it would be fun to have a backstory. sorry if it made it too long tho ;( thank you so much for the request and the compliment! all luv ♡♡♡

𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔'��𝐄 𝐓𝐎��𝐃

Toge Inumaki ♡

₊˚ପ⊹ summary: you survive an attack by a curse all thanks to your boyfriend, toge, but for some reason you can’t stop thinking about what else his cursed technique might be able to do. 

₊˚ପ⊹ warnings: graphic violence, minor character death, angst/hurt/comfort, wet dream, f!receiving oral, f!masturbation, unprotected sex, semi-rough sex, stomach bulging, hitting your cervix, creampie

₊˚ପ⊹ a/n: toge is aged up to a young adult (around 20-24) with an established relationship to reader. toge communicates with reader via sign language. i’m a little hesitant to tag this as dom! toge but he gets pretty rough in this. also i gave him a long dick... lol. 

₊˚ପ⊹ wc: 5.9k+

MDNI

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

Somehow, someway, you had gone your entire relationship with Toge having never experienced the other part of his life. The part he so desperately shielded you from, only ever vaguely explaining his line of work. The day that all changed, you couldn’t fathom the way things used to be. How you used to leave your house without a second thought and how you weren’t sick with concern when Toge was called away with work.

You remember it like it was yesterday. 

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

“You want?” he signed to you, eyes crinkling in a smile. Your cheeks flushed realizing you had stopped in the middle of the street to stare inside an arcade. You couldn’t help it when you saw a claw machine from where you two were walking. Your favorite Sanrio character sat pretty inside the glass and Toge, being your doting boyfriend, made it his mission to win it for you. 

You two worked together to edge it closer and closer to the shallow drop built into the machine, but it sure wasn’t turning out to be an easy task. You patted him on the back, telling him it was okay if he couldn’t get it – that you loved him regardless for trying so hard. But you should have known better than to say that. He wasn’t going to stop until he had that stuffed animal in your arms, no matter how thin his wallet was starting to feel. Under his thick scarf his tongue stuck out in concentration, studying all sides of the machine before letting the arm down again. It latched, and you two stood still holding your breaths. The claw made its way over to the slot, weakly holding onto the tag of the plushie, swinging it side to side. The both of you leaned impossibly close, not believing what was in front of your eyes. The stuffed animal inched over the plastic edge, putting up resistance and shaking the claw. You gasped, eyes wide as you willed the claw to maintain its strength. Just as it made it over the edge, the claw released and the soft body of your new friend hit the bottom of the slot. You didn’t even have a moment to celebrate when the ground shook violently, screams piercing the air. Your head whipped towards the street, watching as people ran down the street frantically shoving each other while trying to get away from something you couldn’t see. It was mere seconds that you went from standing in front of the claw machine to feeling Inumaki’s strong hands pulling you into him. You met his wild eyes and if you weren’t terrified before, seeing the flash of fear in his face was enough to make your entire body shake. Being a regular human you were completely blind and deaf to the curse just a few yards up the street, screeching and gurgling as it tore through the crowd but from the look on his face you knew. You were terrified, and so was he. 

He didn’t find it pertinent to explain in the moment but he had dealt with curses his entire life; he couldn’t feel fear in the face of even the strongest curse at this point, but the knowledge that you were so close to danger had bile burning the walls of his throat. He wasted almost no time dragging you to the back of the arcade and into the ‘employee’s only’ supply closet. If he wasn’t deeply opposed to using his cursed technique on the people he loved he would have commanded you to sit and stay until he came back for you. Instead he signed it, pleading with his eyes for you to listen. You nodded and he squeezed your hand before kissing your forehead. His silent promise he would be back soon. 

When soon came and went you began to get antsy. A couple of patrons and employees hid along with you, all of you huddled together in fear as chaos tore through the commercial district. You didn’t dare consider coming out of hiding without Toge’s say-so, and you didn’t for quite some time. But time kept passing with no sign of him or the curse. Not that you could hear it anyways. You held your breath in anticipation, ears focused for any sign of danger. That was when you heard a voice. First it was a couple of faint whimpers that soon turned into desperate screams. The people hidden with you kept still, not daring to find the source of the sound. At first you ignored it, wanting to obey your boyfriend’s simple command meant to keep you safe – but it became too much for you. From her voice alone you could hear how much pain she was in and that being the only noise you heard in a while, it lulled you into a sense of security. Against your better judgment and against what Toge wanted, you got up, softly opening the door of the stuffy closet you were hidden in before crouching cautiously through the arcade. As you got closer to the street you began to shake again. The streets were almost unrecognizable. The decorations you saw not even an hour ago were strewn across the pavement, along with merchandise from various stores and trampled food from the vendors that lined the strip. You even noted how some buildings' entire structures were missing, leaving jagged craters where the pieces of stone once resided.  You let out a huff, remembering why you came out in the first place, finally stepping out of the doorless entryway. You peered your head, trying to find the woman you were looking for, struggling to see anyone amongst the ruined street. 

It took you a moment, but the sounds of her struggle got louder and louder until you noticed a hand peeking out from some rubble. You got on your knees immediately, clearing the debris around you until her face came into view. 

“Oh thank god!” she cried out, relieved to see another human being. “Help me please! I’m stuck,” at her words you began to realize her figure was pinned beneath a large chunk of stone, just barely propped up by another equally large slab, keeping her torso from being completely flattened.

“It looks really heavy,” you responded, barely above a whisper, your nerves still on high alert. “I’ll try my best,” you promised her, not wanting to show how doomed the situation looked from your perspective. You weighed out the option of sitting with her while you waited for help. You don’t think you could live with yourself if you ended up seriously injuring her, but you didn’t want to just give up without trying. You got to work, bracing yourself before using all of your strength against the slab that currently kept her pinned to the ground. You struggled to get the chunk to even budge, a drop of sweat falling from your hairline. The woman began wailing from the realization that your attempt was futile, panic overwhelming her again.

“You can’t get it? Oh god… I’m gonna die here!” her words tore through the air and you leaned in close, trying to shush her.

“I’m trying my best!” you pleaded with her, “please ma’am,” you begged, still scared to speak too loudly. She couldn’t hear you under the loud noises of her own terror, her screeches echoing in the street. Your throat grew dry, desperately trying to plead with the woman to keep her voice down. “Please we have to be quiet,” you begged, tempted to cover her mouth with your palm to keep her voice down. Fat tears dropped on the pavement, her shrill cries only getting louder. “Pleas-” your final plea was interrupted by a wave of hot fluid covering your face. You barely closed your eyes in time before you were covered in the blood of the woman in front of you. Upon realizing the horror of what happened, you saw the creature in front of you; its muscular form shook from the force of its laugh, admiring what it had done. And what it did was jump on the stone, bringing it down onto her body and forcefully crushing her, causing a spray of her blood and guts to cover you and the surrounding area. Staring up at the ugly, bulging figure in front of you, you realized this is what a curse is. Its skin was an unnatural blue. Its eyes – no, single eye, was swollen; covering half of its face. Could you even consider that a face? 

It was a creature that had to have been dredged up from the pits of hell and you shuddered at the realization your boyfriend saw this and worse on a daily basis. Tears welled up in your eyes. You were proud and grateful and terrified and about twelve other emotions as you considered the fact your boyfriend did everything he could to keep people like you from ever having to see a face that ugly. 

Your vision became unfocused, your entire body frozen in fear as the hideous thing in front of you giggled to itself, blathering complete gibberish while its long arm reached out to you. You would have never assumed yourself to be one to freeze in a near death situation, but you did.

(Looking back you wonder if your body had accepted its fate before your brain did). 

You began to understand that you weren’t going to be one of those innocent people Toge saved. The thought of it tore you from the inside, but it wasn’t enough to get your body to cooperate with your racing mind. You were going to die. Brutally and forcefully – and Toge was going to hate himself forever for it.   

The curse’s hand covered your throat, its meaty hand squeezing your delicate neck before its movement was cut off abruptly by a booming, “EXPLODE!”

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

That night Toge cried as he cleaned the blood and goo from your figure. His sobs were almost devoid of sound and you weren’t in any state to register the tears that fell from his eyes; but he was as he scrubbed the gore from you. You were in complete shock after the events, hardly registering the warm bath water or the rough washcloth he held in his hand, swiping over the skin of your forehead for the hundredth time. Like he was desperately trying to remove the memory of what occurred from your mind.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

A month passed by and arguing became your new norm with Inumaki. Every time his phone rang indicating a new curse needed to be exercised, (and that happened often), you two went to war; with you begging him to get a new job, and him, insisting that was not an option for him. Your conclusion from the event was that you didn’t ever want him in a position as deadly as facing a curse again. While his conclusion from that day was there were so many yous out there that needed his protection. People were unknowingly counting on him to bring their loved ones home safe. He didn’t want anyone to experience what he almost had. It was pertinent that he save as many people as he could from the grief of losing someone so important.

You just didn’t understand why it had to be your boyfriend doing the saving. It was a selfish thought, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to feel guilty for thinking it.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

More months went by and the hurricane that was once your relationship had calmed again, and things were as normal as both of you could manage after that day. You two shared snacks while you played Mario Party, laughing together as you both tried your hardest to screw the other one over. Usually to the detriment of each other. After the third game you both managed to lose to the NPCs, silence washed over your living room. Neither of you wanted to acknowledge the fact that silences were no longer comfortable in your relationship.

“You ok?” he signed to you, his brows furrowing, indicating he wanted more than a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’. 

You take a shaky breath, “I just can’t get it out of my mind..” you begin to trail off and he roughly shakes his head, like he was trying to rid the thought from his own brain. He hated talking about what happened, that being part of the reason silences just didn’t feel the same anymore because you just couldn’t not talk about it. He didn’t expect you to be okay already, but he also wasn’t okay. You two were on opposite sides of the spectrum. You needed the emotional release words brought but he started to suffocate the second those words were out in the air.

You ignore his nonverbal cues to stop, bulldozing through them. “No, Toge, I need to talk about it,” he is still begging you with his eyes to stop but you don’t acknowledge it. “Toge, I’m scared to leave the house!” you don’t realize how loud you are until his usual silence contrasts with your voice. You embrace your negative emotions, only getting louder, “I’m more scared watching you leave!” 

“No. Don’t. I’m fine,” his eyes plead with you. You already know you have no reason to fear his safety, especially when compared to yours but your irrational anxiety doesn’t care.

“I’m scared you will leave one day and never come back,” and after you say that your bottom lip begins to quiver and your tears pool at the bottom of your eyes and he’s quick to pull you into his lap; stroking your hair and planting kisses on your temple. He desperately wants to tell you not to worry about him, but it’s hypocritical because he hasn’t let you so much as walk down the block without him. He can’t find the words to comfort you and he’s stuck with nothing else to do but hold you in his arms and wipe your tears as they fall. He pulls back from your embrace to look into your eyes. His eyebrows are drawn up in concern for you, his eyes locking onto yours. Even as you drown in your sadness you can’t help but smile meekly at your boyfriend. You love how expressive his face is and the fact you don’t even need sign language to know what he is thinking and feeling. His sharp jaw is clenched, mouth twitching as he focuses on trying to read your own features. You think what you love even more about his face being an open book is how handsome it is – and how you never want to go a day without seeing it. You lean in slowly, touching your lips to his softly and he responds by pulling you even closer, his palm flat on your upper back. He deepens it, eyes fluttering shut from the feeling of your plush lips on his. And he’s not the only one thinking about how he never wants to go a day without your beautiful face.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

To say your sex life suffered after that incident would be an understatement. You couldn’t find it in you to even consider something as trivial as sex while you stewed in your emotional turmoil; but as more time passed and the more you recovered the more even the most simple of touches from your boyfriend drove you crazy. His bare knee bumping against yours on the couch as you two played video games together or his hand grazing yours while you two worked together to cook dinner in your kitchen – it all made you mad. You felt like a virgin all over again – it was becoming impossible to ignore the innocent things he did that drove you mad. The mere sight of him stretching, arms raised and mouth in a yawn, revealing the happy trail that sat between his defined v-line – it made you feel like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankle for the first time. Even watching the way he ran his fingers through his hair, causing the light blonde tufts to stick up and frame his dreamy face in the morning was enough to spike a high grade fever in you.

It really should have been no surprise to you when you fell asleep one night, only to dream of his blonde tufts sticking out from between your thighs. His tongue languidly lapping at your folds, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“F-fuck Toge,” you whimper, his flat muscle pressing deliciously against your clit. Your body shudders from pleasure, thighs threatening to squeeze his head but his strong arms hold them against the bed. His hips rut into the mattress, trying to relieve his aching cock as he sucked your pleasurable little nub, reeling at the cute noises you were making. “God it feels so good,” you sigh, unable to keep your hips still as he continued his attack. You can’t help but grab your tits, squeezing them roughly in your small hands as you run your thumbs over your hardened nipples – tweaking and pulling at them to enhance your pleasure. You forgot Toge was watching you, too caught up in your own little world – so when your hands go back down to grab your sheets you’re shocked to hear his rough voice.

“Keep teasing your nipples,” he begs. Your head lifts from the bed to see the spit and arousal that drips from his chin, his eyes drinking you in. You only have a moment to feel the shock of hearing his voice – realizing you had only ever heard it that day and through your dream state you recognize you don’t have an option not to obey him, hands reaching for your chest again. He goes back to what he was doing, using his flat tongue to lick a stripe from your entrance all the way to your clit before flicking the tip of it lightly against your clit. You’re squeezing your nipples, shaking with amplified lust realizing he’s the reason why you’re hands glued to your chest, working yourself up along with his mouth.  “Answer me, does my tongue feel good?” and not a second passes before you tell him yes, your chest heaving and entrance clenching, never realizing how much you needed his voice while he’s making you feel this good. You’re still tweaking your nipples, body unconsciously waiting for him to tell you to stop and you’re not sure how much longer you’re going to be able to last when he asks you, “Does my good girl want me to tell her to come on my tongue?” your body alights with intoxicating arousal as you’re telling him yes. It comes out needy and more like a beg and his tongue between your folds becomes sloppy listening to you lose yourself to him. His lips form a seal around your nub, sucking harshly before going back to licking it, speeding up his movements. The entire time his eyes have not left yours but you were so lost in pleasure yours had begun to shut… and Inumaki thought that just won’t do. “Eyes on mine,” you barely have time to process his gruff voice before you obey him, opening your eyes to meet his, half lidded with lust. You bite your lower lip and he grunts into your sopping pussy, the vibration enough to make you want to roll your eyes back but they’re glued to his no matter what. 

“I want to grab your hair,” you beg him, hands still working your sensitive nipples, causing you to wince as each pinch reaches deeper and deeper into your core. He pulls away from your lips, taking a moment to kiss the inside of your thigh before giving you permission. 

“Go ahead, grab my hair,” your hand flies down to his head, fisting his blond locks and shoving his face into your pussy. He’s back to moaning into your plush lips at your needy actions, trying desperately to ease the pain from his hard on by massaging his hips against your soft mattress. Before long you’re shaking under his tongue and you were gonna come even without his command but dream Toge knew it was exactly what you needed. His lips detached from your sopping cunt, eyes droopy and chest heaving before he whispered, “Cum for me baby,” and your pleasure reached its peak. Fuck that. It reaches the peakest of peaks. You have never felt an orgasm as strong as you do right now. Your hips shake violently at his command, pleasure tearing its way through you, not leaving a single nerve untouched as you come hard. You’re practically crying, your dreamself not sure about the logistics of his technique, but it settles on you not being able to stop cumming unless he tells you to. 

You wake up in your own sticky mess, your core still alight from the intensity of your dream while you desperately try to catch your breath. 

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

Thankfully you had woken up in bed alone, giving you ample time to clean up and throw the sheets in the wash. You spent your entire day off in a daze, doing your tasks on autopilot while being unable to stop thinking about the dream you had. You weren’t sure how you were going to be able to look Inumaki in the eyes once he got back from whatever mission he was called to while you slept – and you weren’t sure you would even be capable of ignoring the constant pulsing need once you finally saw his face. You would surely picture the one from your dream, eyes clouded with desire and mouth coated with your slick. You used your hand to fan yourself, your thoughts making you hot all over. 

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

It didn’t take long before you found yourself back in the bed the two of you share. The sheets now fresh and warm as they embraced your naked figure. You found it impossible to ignore the promising call of relief once you finished making the bed – giving in and stripping off your clothes, crawling into his spot. You started slowly, teasing the soft skin of your stomach. Trailing your fingers lightly up and down your taut belly, your muscles stiff with excitement. Your nipples hardened from the cool air and you brought one hand up to rub the peak, remembering the contents of your dream – causing you to sigh listlessly. While your one hand focused on your pebbled nipple your other drifted lower and lower until it reached your soft folds, already damp with your arousal. Your middle digit dipped into your entrance, spreading your slick around and teasing the velvety skin. 

You took your time teasing your pussy, working yourself up and disappearing into your own world. 

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

Inumaki wasn’t sure where you had gone when he came back home later that day, slick with perspiration and muscles aching from a hard day of work. He began stripping off his dirt-caked clothes before making it to the bathroom, taking off the remainder of his clothes and stepping into the shower, letting the hot water run down his body. He scrubbed the dirt and sweat from his skin quickly, eager to get out and find out where you went. It was unusual for you not to be in the living room waiting for him and ever since that incident it made him anxious to not know where you were at all times — but he trusted if you left the house you would have told him. You must be somewhere inside. 

It didn't take long for him to finish rinsing off the residual bubbles from his body before he grabbed his towel, quickly drying off and stepping out of the tub. He massaged the towel through his locks, shaking off the remaining water droplets hanging from his light blond strands before tying the towel around his waist. Without much thought, he decided to check your shared bedroom first. 

He walked down the hall to the door of your shared bedroom, pushing open the cracked door before stopping dead in his tracks – mouth agape at the sight in front of him: Your naked body was splayed out on the plush covers of your bed, eyes closed, and eyebrows drawn up in concentration – fingers knuckle deep in your cunt. His mouth grew dry while he watched you touch yourself – still unaware of his presence. “Toge,” you whimpered out, “Want you to tell me to, mmm-!” your finger curled, grazing against the spongy spot of your pussy, “-tell me to play with my tits again,” you cry out. He almost chokes on air listening to your words, dick tenting in the towel around his waist. His mind races, trying to fathom what you had just said – struggling to focus through the sounds of your wet pussy filling the room.

“Do you really want me to say that?” he said aloud, his throat constricting from the unfamiliar feeling of using his voice around you. He had only ever communicated with you through sign language – far too scared to accidentally hurt you with his cursed technique. But here you were, squirming on the bed while you touched yourself to the thought of him telling you what to do – and it had been so long since he last got to feel your plush walls squeeze around his cock…

Your body jumped in surprise but you didn’t have the chance to do anything other than respond honestly to him, an urgent ‘yes’ quickly leaving your lips. “Toge, I didn’t realize you were home-” you start to explain yourself, embarrassed he caught you as you were wrapped up in your fantasy. You sit up, leaning against your elbows but he stops you by climbing onto the bed  – pinning your body between his two arms. 

He tries to consider everything he should say to you. If he was in any better of a state he would have stopped what was happening to talk about why it was so important for him to keep his mouth shut. It was pertinent he protected you from himself. As a regular human you had no clue what kind of responsibility he held with his cursed technique. He made a promise to himself that he would never talk outside of his missions. He was too scared to ever hurt someone – or to tell them to do something they couldn’t help but obey by the power of his words alone. It was important for you to realize this; it was also important for him to stop the filthy thoughts swirling around his own mind that made his dick twitch from under the towel. Guilt swirled in his stomach as he pictured exactly what he wanted to say to you – to make you do. If he was in any better of a state the guilt wouldn’t have been clouded by the intoxicating feeling of his need, telling him to do whatever it took to have you. 

“Do you really want me to?” he says aloud again, giving you one more chance to think about it before he could no longer hold himself back. Your ‘yes’ was only louder this time, eyes pleading as you shook with anticipation. “Take my towel off,” he says, throat bobbing as he watched you immediately do as you were told. He shuddered at the cool air as it hit his wet tip, precum dripping down the long shaft. He contemplated his next words, debating if he should have you take his cock in your mouth or if he should skip to his favorite part. “Open your mouth,” he commanded, and you had no choice but to obey. It was disgusting how much he was starting to enjoy this, your eyes lidded with want as you did what you were told. You would have done anything he asked even without his cursed technique – he knew this. That’s why while he felt guilty it wasn’t going to stop him from sticking two fingers into your mouth, massaging your tongue. “Suck my fingers, baby,” your mouth closed on his digits, sucking sweetly on his fingers while he continued to wiggle them around. His fingers began reaching deeper into your mouth – almost touching your throat causing you to gag a little. Regardless, you were still sucking on them with all you had and his hips bucked at the thought of his cock replacing his fingers. But with how sensitive he currently was he knew he wasn’t going to last very long – and your mouth wasn’t the place he wanted to cum in. His eyes wandered down to your cunt, lips slick with your arousal from when you had finger fucked yourself earlier – the skin a little red from your needy actions. Without much thought, he began to stroke his long cock with the hand that wasn’t currently in your mouth, his want growing watching you squirm. He took his fingers from your mouth, moving them down to your left nipple and massaging the bud between his two wet digits. “Are you ready for me?” he asked, not sure how much longer he could stand stroking himself to the sight of your naked body without slipping into your wet folds. 

“God yes,” you cried, trying desperately to relieve yourself by grinding against nothing. His hand came down to your hip, using his other to line his cock up to your entrance. He dragged the tip against your folds, spreading your juices around the head of his cock before plunging in. You were incredibly tight even from your warm up, having not taken his length in months. He tried his best to stay still, letting you adjust to the burning stretch but you were so wet and so so so warm, it was hard for him to not bully his way in – he shook from the sheer idea of forcing you to take him as he wanted you to. His eyes were glued to his cock as half of him was buried in your folds, swallowing thickly as he pushed in more and more of himself. You hiccupped, slapping his forearm as a warning that it hurt and he stopped. His eyes met yours and they were just like your dream. Lidded in desire and mouth wet – now from his own spit from constantly licking his lips as he imagined himself tasting you. He hated having to rush things – wanting to do so much more with you but the thought of your pussy twitching on his tongue alone was enough to make him want to bust right then and there. He was swallowing roughly again, concentrating on the task at hand, pushing even deeper inside you. You just about took all of him, but you stopped him yet again and he snapped. Your pussy was sucking him in! Your pretty cunt wanted all of him and who was he to not give her what she wanted? “Take my cock,” he spoke, voice gruff and commanding. He slid the rest of the way in and you didn’t so much as blink, allowing him to fill you up. 

“Too big Toge-” you whined, his tip pushing up against the base of your stomach causing you to squirm. His hand came down to feel himself inside you, pushing gently against the bulge.

“D’you feel how deep I am?”

“Yes-” you gasped, “You’re deep! Soo deep,” and he was impossibly deep. He didn’t acknowledge your words, head thrown back and mouth hung open as he started to move – dragging his length slowly out before bullying it back inside. Your ribbed walls squeezed his dick, encouraging him to continue his slow assault. 

“Rub your clit f’me,” he choked out, wanting you to get yourself to open up more. To let him in just a little deeper. He knew you could. 

You had no choice but to reach for your clit, feeling just below it how his cock was stretching your entrance wide open. You rubbed slow circles on it, gasping at the overwhelming feeling causing your walls to constrict against him. His arms came down to hold your thighs against the bed, wanting to get a good angle of his cock as it disappeared over and over again inside of you. He was in his own world at this point, savoring the way your cunt gripped his cock as you cried out from the stretch. He knew he could manage to go even deeper – if only he had you on your stomach. He pulled out suddenly, flipping you around and pushing your head into the pillows. His strong hands angled your hips upwards towards his own. His right arm slithered up your back before reaching the center, “Arch your back, baby…” you obey him and he’s squeezing your waist, “Good girl. So pretty when you do what you’re told,” he praises you. He’s lining his cock up again, pushing himself in deep without giving you a second to process it. Your soft cries were muffled by the pillows as he had his way with you; pussy being pounded from behind, his balls slapping against your clit as his nails dug into you. “Fuck,” he cursed, dragging out the syllables as the wet sounds of your pussy echoed off the bedroom walls. His thumb began to massage your sides where he held you, forgetting he could use his voice – becoming so pussy drunk he went back to his old way of letting you know he was about to cum. You started to squirm again, prepared to take his hot load while not far off from your own release. You could tell he was getting closer and closer. He began to whimper and his cock couldn’t help its occasional twitch as it pounded over and over again into your cervix. “C-cum with me, please,” he begged, unknowingly forcing you over the edge. He was far too lost to realize what he had done but it didn’t matter at that point as you two reached your peaks together. His cum coated your walls – rope after rope shooting into you, his cock pushing it deeper and deeper as he fucked you through your peak. You had a similarly blinding orgasm from your dream, squirming and bucking your hips, tears streaming down your cheeks as you cried out into the pillow. Your pussy clamped down hard on him, squeezing and releasing as you had no choice but to experience the best climax of your life. He leaned over your figure, brushing your hair off your back as he kissed your neck, your slick and his cum slipping out as his cock began to soften inside of you. You were still whining, unable to stop the intensity at which you were cumming. His hands ran soothing patterns on your back as you completely collapsed into the bed – twitching against the sheets until you finally felt it subsiding. Slowly but surely you came down, your chest heaving as Toge peppered you with kisses. 

“That was okay. Right?” He asked you in sign language – going back to his preferred method of communication with you. You nodded, a smile working itself onto your face as you began to giggle. 

“That was … incredible,” his eyes scrunched up, chuckling along with you, pulling you into his naked chest and holding you tight to him. 

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

It had been a long road before things had gone back to normal with Inumaki. Even so – not everything was the way it used to be, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. You two learned a lot from the aftermath of that day; including just how powerful his words could be. 

[pleasantangelpaper]

Knight In Shining Glasses (Ford Pines x Reader)

Chapter 1: Raspberries, Royalty, and Rock Bottom

Okay so. I love Stanford Pines, but there's not a lot of fanfiction for him, and I think there should be! Anyways, probably won't write smut for this because I want to maintain the gender neutral reader, but I may do oneshots with this vision of Ford.

Also this is probably bad. I'm not an amazing writer. lol. I also had no clue how to start this. Anyways silly little twist ending, but this fic is still for Ford, just wait.

As I came to my senses, I felt the cold hard earth pulling me to the ground, and a strange sensation on my face, almost like something wet was caressing my face... is that a pig "EUGH," I jumped up in fear as the seemingly harmless creature stared into my soul with its beady eyes. "Oh Waddles, there you are, you've almost missed your tea party with- Oh! Hey y/n!" A small girl with a very colorful sweater spoke quickly and excitedly. I immediately recognized her as Mabel Pines, grand niece of Stanford... or well Stanley Pines of the Mystery Shack. I still haven't met the real Stanford I suppose. "Mabelllll are you almost ready for this tea party thing, I want to go play D&D& more D with Grunkle Fo- oh hey y/n" The other mystery twin ran out of the shack, clearly annoyed with the tea party ordeal. "Uh, kids, could you ask an adult in your house if I can come in and use your phone?" I asked, still not remembering how I got to the mystery shack. Maybe if I called a taxi, I could go home and retrace my thoughts. "Oh, the shack's open right now, you can go ask Soos," Dipper stated as he pointed at the sign that said 'Mystery Hack'. I thanked him and Mabel and ran to the door of the shack. How could I have ended up at the mystery shack? Before I could finish my train of thought, I ran into a strong force. "Heh.. gotta look where you're goin kid," the older gentleman said. I recognized him as Stanfo... Stanley Pines. "Sorry Mr. Pines, it's just, can I use your phone?" I begged and hoped the man wouldn't ask for money in return. "Depends... do you want to buy anything..." The man squinted his eyes at me. I reached in my pockets and pulled out all of the cash that I had, 5.76$....oh.... This can't get me a phone call, let alone a cab. I looked at the man in despair as I turned around. As I began walking to town, I started thinking of how I got here. It all started when I left Greasy's diner. I was holding some leftover raspberry pie that my friend Lazy Susan had given me. Walking towards my house, I remember feeling watched. The feeling grew more and more intense, until I turned around and realized I was being followed.... by GNOMES??? "Hello ma'am, I'm Jeff, and on behalf of all gnomekind, I'm gonna have to ask you to hand over that pie," the little man stared so intensely, I didn't feel like fighting, so I handed him the box of pie. He opened the box, inspecting it. "This is heavenly, how would you feel about becoming gnome royalty... is that look of fear on your face a yes... I feel like I'm getting a yes," With the shock on my face apparent, I screamed and ran the opposite direction. "Get them!! Soon we will have our spouse!" "SCHMEBULOCK!" "WHAT HE SAID" The gnomes all yelled out different things as I ran for the hills. I prayed that gnomes wouldn't be able to hurt me, but I also knew there were powers in numbers, so I continued to run until I got to a clearing in the woods. Exhausted, I sat down on a stump to catch my breath, but when I looked up, I knew I should have kept running. A giant mass of gnomes towered over me with Jeff as their leader. I took what I thought would be my last breath as I prepared to succumb to the darkness, "Stay back gnomes! What have I told you about harassing random people to be your monarch," A masculine voice sounded through the woods. I was in such a state of shock I passed out, but before I did, I saw a glimpse of the man that saved me, gray hair, glasses, and a familiar face... Stan?

[melodic-haze]

hear me out brat!chiori x service top!reader where she teases you all the time both in public and private until you just cant take it anymore and finally snap and fuck her until shes sobbing from overstimulation and cant think or speak at all and only begging for you to breed her over and over again

☆ — DEMO TRACK: power bottom!Chiori x service top!gp!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: fem reader with a dick, overstim and.....tbf it's all up in the asks actually

☆ — NOTES: I really shouldn't have been given the ability to read and write idk but anyway I love mean lesbians 🫶 even though ik I'd be scared of them irl (I AM a mean lesbian idk what I'm on about)

Oh my god she's be an INSUFFERABLE brat though???? Not cuz she's cheeky and sly as hell, not like for example Miko, but bc she KNOWS she can easily tease and making you want what you Cannot Have

She'd drop her scissors on accident and bending down in a way that showcases her own specially made lingerie (mostly made with you in mind, though she reserves said special designs for your eyes only—she'd never admit it but designs for YOU and her customers are two completely different things 🤷‍♀️) or make you help her with something and then 'accidentally' grazing skin one way or another (nothing too disastrous, she can't jeopardise her work for ANYONE)

Chiori wouldn't outright say stuff plainly though cuz that's crass and she's much more classier than that, who do you think she is??? She WOULD outright make innuendos and double entendres with a glint in her eye and a mocking tone, however 💀 just to piss you off a bit

"Hold these steady for me, would you? You're capable of that much."

As you scrambled to pin down two bits of fabric on the mannequin, she pulls away with a light smirk. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly at the remark, "I'd like to think I'm a lot more capable than what you've been insinuating the entire day."

"Are you?" She turns away to head to her worktop, "I suppose that with my direction, you can.. well, satisfy basic needs."

"You say that like I'm not capable of directing myself."

"You would lack the necessary finesse to please me."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, "Thanks for the faith. But we both know you're downplaying what I can do."

"But do we?" The designer turns back to you, sewing equipment in hand and a nonchalant look in her gaze, "Perhaps I've been unimpressed with your performance thus far."

"Then you'd be complaining about me in every waking moment."

"Don't I already?"

"True. Someone really needs to shut you up every once in a while."

"Oh?" She approaches you.. and the mannequin, you supposed, "Mind supplying an example?"

"Uh, me? I think I'm in the best position to do so."

And your lover scoffs mockingly, "You're rather confident in thinking that you could force me down."

"I'm confident that I can put you in whatever position I want."

Perhaps there was something she saw in your eyes, a brief flash of something dark that flickered through for a second, but you see a light flush coat her cheeks as she lets out a shaky exhale.

"..Do tell yourself whatever helps you sleep at night," she airily responded as her hands pressed back onto the fabric, to which you took the action as a sign of a dismissal, "Archons know I'm not going to sing you praises or tuck you in at night."

"Hmm."

Ofc it's not limited to your outside interaction, cuz you're hashtag lucky to see it inside too!!!! Yippee!!!!!!!! Get your dose of irritation 🫶🫶 if you're a patient bitch as well then that's even worse cuz she may actually up the ante just for the sake of it in bed. In public she actually appreciates you being understanding with her bluntnese but in private? Lol have fun

It's not that she does it just cuz either, I think she'd do it for the sake of seeing just how much you can take until you snap. She seems like a believer of the whole "raw emotions = raw capability" thing, and she'd definitely test you more than once just to see how much you can take before you flip out

She doesn't say anything about how there's that hidden desire to see you turn things against her and actually put her in her place after she's being such a brat the entire day though

"Ngh..! I said to go-- sssslowER--"

"I.. don't think.. I'll listen to you right now," you managed to force out as you pinned her on the mattress, hammering the brat underneath you with your length as if desperate to paint her insides white.

At some point, your patience had eventually run out. She had this constantly challenging look in her eyes that followed her all the way to the bedroom, and her words had reflected on that too.

You wanted to please her, to satisfy her the way you knew you could, you swore.. but it always wasn't enough for her, or maybe you got it all wrong, or her demands were so unbearably contrasting despite the fact that you could have sworn that her reactions indicated that you were on the right track. Really, you just had no choice but to take matters in your own hands the same way you took this insatiable designer's hair, now loose from its usual style; hard and forceful.

Chiori's hands practically clawed the sheets, her small build helpless as you moved her like some sort of ragdoll—whyever would she fight it, though?

And as if used to obeying your commands, she does. She looks at the vanity mirror just a short distance away from the bed, looks at her ruined makeup smudged on her face, looks at the apex of her thighs that drip and glisten with a mix of her transparent essence and the backwash of your cum.

"This was what you've been aiming for, isn't it? I'm doing what-- fffuuck.. what you demanded of.. of me." You lifted her up without hesitation, with your other hand on her lower abdomen as you continued your relentless pace, "May as well.. mmf.. watch."

Perhaps there was something to the sight that snapped the last of her fighting composure in half—maybe it was the way you forced her to look at your live methods of discipline, maybe it was the way your dick hit a certain spot inside her due to the change in angle, or maybe it was the way you had looked at her in the mirror with a dark, heady mixture of lust and frustration.

Either way, it had her hips practically stuttering as she opened her mouth to scream.. only for nothing to come out save for a broken, cut-off start of such a sound. Her body for a brief moment before going limp and leaning back into you.

You also see—and feel—a deluge of hot liquid squirt out a certain distance and onto your still-moving cock.

Really, nothing about the situation or the reactions you're recieving is deterring you from overwhelming her more than enough to render her quiet and satisfied.

Even as her hands struggled to grip onto your own that's pushing into where her womb is located, where you're hitting her at your deepest, you didn't stop. Even as she sobbed and actually threw her sharp pride aside to plead for you to spare her from further overstimulation, you didn't stop.

Again, why would you? You're going to make sure she comes out of this sated.. even if that did mean fucking a few braincells out of your lover.

(Though with the way she was smiling whorishly, you have more than a feeling that she wanted you to do so.)

(..Not like you'd ever use such language aimed at her outside private walls, lest you want to experience her ire rather than her desire.)

Get it?? Cuz. Cuz like. Desire??? Des-ire?????? Haahahhahahahahah oh my god I think I'm gonna go ballistic one day

She loves being treated like a classy lady, she loves being treated like a queen, but she ALSO loves being roughhoused and railed to the moon and back—she's not a delicate bitch she can handle it 🤷‍♀️ just like how she Knows you can handle a bit of a bratty personality (though really such a thing should probably be guaranteed anyway to be with her without getting all ratty)

She'd call you a fuckign brute, she'd call you names, but at the end of the day all she'd want is for you to fill her and fuck her until nooooo coherent thought is left 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

It's satisfying at the end when you're done when Chiori's simply laying there, eyes completely glazed over as she struggles to get back to reality as you've painted her insides (and outsides tbh) white. Maybe this is your own artform, with Chiori's being clothing design AHAHAHA anyway 🫶

"So how'd I.. ugh," you unceremoniously flopped onto the bed, grimacing at the very wet sheets and the inevitable cleanup you're dreading of doing later, "how'd I do?"

"..."

"Chiori? Babe?"

"..Give me a minute, would you?" She groaned out hoarsely, her usual grace to her movements and edge to her voice gone and replaced with a much more.. relaxed, casual tone, you supposed, "Asking a girl to rate your performance after using her like a feral beast is in poor taste."

"Okay, but you more than asked for it, really."

"I don't recall doing such a thing."

"You're only especially difficult when you want that sort of treatment."

"I'm never difficult for no good reason."

You raised an eyebrow and said nothing.

Your girlfriend stares you down with a tired glare.. before relenting shortly after with an affectionate eyeroll, "I told no lie, I needed the break from..."

"Thinking?"

"Yes. Perhaps."

"Bad week?"

"Annoying clients."

"I can ward them away for you," you suggest as you opened your arms to her.

"No need—I can do so myself." You half expected her to keep you hanging until you decide to drop your arms.. but then she moves closer to you, eventually letting herself be enclosed in a hug, "..But thank you for the offer."

Any form of initial surprise from the acceptance in affection easily melts into that warm buzz that never fails to make you happy every time Chiori indulges in something remotely affectionate, "You're welcome."

..Perhaps clean-up can wait later.

The surprising thing would never be how bratty she is or how depraved she becomes with enough of a push tbh, but rather her showing blatant affection for you at any given time. Post-coital afterglow doesn't necessarily give her much of an extra urge to cuddle—if anything she's usually averse considering how sweaty and gross it'd feel to her after........but surprise affections are a very VERY welcome surprise :3

Tbh even then idk if sex is a common thing that happens between you, even when you're in a relationship 🤔 but it'd still be juicy either way. Something about how absence makes the heart grow fonder, except it just makes your cock go harder idfk LMAO

It's like 2 am rn guys this is my only explanation for all this

[itsmeatballworld]

| it ends in heartbreak |

pairing | daryl dixon x f!reader

summary | you both knew he would break your heart. he couldn't help himself.

wc | 1400

warnings | cursing, sadness/heartbreak [aka the title]

a/n | I've had this in my drafts forever lol I forgot about this one! Also this is the first time I've ever written pure angst so go easy on me <3

continue... [ part 2 ] - [ part 3 ]

You always knew this day would come.

There were signs pointing to the downfall of your relationship, signs you chose to ignore to enjoy the moments of happiness.

But the signs couldn’t be any clearer–it would never last. It couldn't.

It was the end of the world, for starters. Life was always in shambles. The group never stayed in one spot long enough. Even the prison wasn’t safe. With everything unstable, it should’ve been obvious this would happen, but you were naive to think you’d would be any different.

Because the reality was: this was always how it was supposed to end.

He was built on a fractured foundation. He set up walls and built his life around a broken base, worn down by his past that he couldn't escape. First, parents had cracked and hardened his outlook on life. Then his brother taught him he meant little to others by leaving him behind. Not once did he ever learn how to fix the ache in his heart.

Yet when he met you, things changed.

It was gradual. Pieces of him started to align and heal. The tough outer shell wasn't as indestructible as he first imagined. After some time he opened up and let you in.

But you both knew he would break your heart.

He couldn't help himself. It was in his nature to push back, to fight and wrangle away from anything that became too real. Too good.

But for the time being, you enjoyed the blissful moments of his affection.

When he kissed you goodnight it was over.

He lingered, almost as if he was allowing his lips to memorize the feeling of your skin on his. His fingers fell against your curves as you pressed into the cellblock’s cool cement wall. It was in these seconds of quiet where you both had a chance to breathe.

Pulling back, Daryl rested one arm above your head. He leaned in close, gazing sweetly down at you. His other hand slowly traveled to your face and Daryl’s thumb brushed against your bottom lip.

Without hesitating you whispered the words he never imagined hearing from you.

Love you.

There. Right there. You saw the spark in his bright blue eyes dim. The crystalline color washed away into a deep ocean blue. Rocky and turbulent. Daryl’s eyes were no longer filled with love, but rather, fear.

You lost him, right there, pressed against the concrete wall of Cellblock D.

This was destined to fail.

“Please don’t do this.”

“Have to.”

“No…no you don’t have to, Daryl.” Your chest tightened. It was like the air was on fire. No matter how deeply you breathed in and out, pain still resided in your chest. He was crippling you.

“Daryl–”

“Ain’t up for debate.” He stepped back, snatching his crossbow from the watchtower’s metal flooring.

Your hands fumbled to find your shirt, hating how he sprung this on you in the middle of the night. He didn't have patience to wait, apparently. Just break your heart and go, like it was nothing.

“I’m not trying to…I just…” you groaned. “What happened? Was it me? Did I do something?”

His eyes went wide. That scared, fearful expression washed over him once again.

Fuck, you squeezed your eyes shut. That was it. That look. It was just like the other night. When those stupid words stumbled out of your mouth, falling to the ground at Daryl’s feet. Just before he crushed them with his silence.

“Was it something I said?”

He didn't answer and his silence (unlike most nights) wasn't good enough. You needed answers.

“So that’s it then. You say ‘I’m done’ and leave before sunrise?”

The broody man fought to glance in your direction. Instead, he focused out towards the tree-line. He grabbed onto the windowsill and squeezed so tightly that the white of his knuckles appeared. But his tactics to avoid the conversation at hand weren’t getting past you tonight.

You shot up from the floor. “Daryl.”

“I ain’t got time for this.”

“You fuck me, say we’re done, and leave? Like this was all nothing? Like we mean nothing to each other?”

Daryl paused. He turned to you with lips curled into a tight frown. Even in the darkness of the watchtower, through the bright white moonlight, his frustration was clear.

“I said ‘I love you’, Daryl.” There was a desperation behind your words. Your voice was so deeply distressing it made your chest ache. It was heavy and exhausting to display your feelings out to him in the middle of the night. But you wanted more–deserved more–than a shitty ending to whatever you had with him.

“You think this is love?”

You gawked, “yes!”

He paced the small room like a caged animal ready to pounce.

You love this man.

“This ain’t love.”

You love this man. This jerk.

“Then what the fuck is this, Daryl? Tell me.” You paused, tears welling in your eyes but you refused to let them fall. “Fucking tell me!”

The shirt in your hands balled up tight around your closed fist. You were hurt. Everything about him was trouble and you let him in.

“I said ‘I love you’. I said it and now you’re pulling away.”

As he watched you, just for a moment, his eyes didn’t fill with fear or confusion. There was something there. Between the declarations, he looked apologetic. His blue eyes softened, letting the emotions he desperately tried to conceal slip past those walls he built back up.

“Well, shit! I’m sorry I said it. I fucked this up, didn’t I?” The gravel in your voice scratched your throat. Everything burned.

The apologetic stare turned pitiful. A deep scowl crossed his face and your heart sank. “Can’t mess it up when there was nothin’ here, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. It was so condescending as his drawl pulls at the syllables. That tightness in your chest balled into a pit of rage. Fire that burned you before ignited an anger inside.

You moved closer towards him. “You sleep with me every night. You kiss me before leaving on runs. When you think nobody’s looking, you hold my hand. We talk about our past. Our future. This is real, Daryl.”

“Nah.” He grabbed his belt, twisting it through the loops. “This ain’t real.”

Your fingers tightened on the fabric as you tugged the shirt on. “That’s not true—“

He huffed, staring out into the cloudy night sky. “You’re better off without me anyway.”

“Don’t. Don't say that. I’m not better off without you. I’d be worse.”

Daryl paused.

But the hurt and anger fueling your body didn’t stop. “So don’t make me feel crazy for falling in love with you. Like it was a choice? If I was fucking smart, I would’ve ran far away from you the second we met. But I didn’t. Because I saw you for more than the asshole you pretend to be. So excuse me for feeling blindsided by your decision to leave me.”

“Leave you?” He spat. “Get it through your head, girl. You ain’t mine! You’re just some bitch I screwed.”

The frogs croaking down by the creeks ceased to exist. Trees stopped rustling in the breeze. Crickets no longer sang under the stars. The world froze as his words were thrown at you with such haste. Like he didn’t think twice.

Your arms wrapped around your waist, tugging at the fabric clinging to your body.

He didn’t look back at you. His eyes seemed to drift anywhere but you like he couldn't face the fact that he said it out loud.

No, no. He doesn’t really think that…

Your voice cracked as the tears from earlier were not going to wait much longer. “Daryl–”

He turned on his heels and was out the door. Down the ladder, each step was louder than the last. You paused, bawling your fists as the tears finally spilled across your cheeks. Loud and heaving gasps, muddled together with hot tears.

He broke you down within seconds. The tears and sobs continued on for what felt like forever until you finally had a moment of rest. The tightness in your chest subsided, thankfully, but this was the easier part. Tomorrow will be harder when you’ll have to put on a fake smile, wipe away tears in the dark prison hallways, and avoid him.

Forget him. Forget him…right like it would be easy. It’ll be fucking impossible to forget him.

You wished you could hate him. But you don’t.

So for tonight, you let yourself feel the heartbreak and planned to stand taller tomorrow. Because in the end you knew it would never last.

But it didn't matter.

You loved that man.

Yet after everything, he might have been right. You weren't truly with him.

And maybe he never really cared for you at all.

-xx-

-xx-

a/n 2.0 | daryl PLEASEE {as if I didn't write him to act this way}

[writerblue275]

Heartsteel Ranking: “Scary boyfriend privilege”

(AKA how intimidating they are to people who don’t know them.)

Inspiration: I’ll be honest this is a bit of a random ranking but I thought it would be fun to do and it was!

Champions: Heartsteel

Genre: Ranking

Type: Fluff? This is meant in a funny way.

Tw: Small mention of alcohol (drink responsibly y’all), and swearing (because I do, in fact, have the mouth of a damn sailor.)

List goes least intimidating to most intimidating.

LEAST

Ezreal (One of these days I will do a ranking that doesn’t put him at the bottom! I swear it’s not intentional! 😂)

Let’s be honest no one is shocked he’s here, right? Where else was Ez going to go on this list?? This isn’t a bad thing though! He just gives off such golden retriever energy and it’s amazing and I love him. I want to be at least best friends with HS Ezreal.

Despite the usual happy golden retriever energy, he’s definitely not afraid to tell people off/protect you though. (I feel like he secretly has quite a temper. He’s a Sagittarius after all [love my fellow 🔥 signs WOOT WOOT]. Usually he’s very good about keeping it under control…but if someone [besides you, he absolutely adores you] pushes him too far [ex: by making you uncomfortable]…just see what happens.)

Aphelios

You absolutely have scary boyfriend privilege with Aphelios, but I just can’t rank him higher than any of the other members below. He definitely has that “brooding silent type” down pat, and when he’s wearing his mask, that’s doubled. That air of mystery, baby, he’s got that in SPADES.

We also know he’s tall. Like not Sett, K’Sante, or Yone tall, but he’s got some height on him (unconfirmed 6’). Physically, he’s definitely more intimidating than Ez. Like imagine Phel silently staring daggers at someone. Lmao I’d hate to be whoever pissed him off.

K’Sante

Most of this comes from his height (unconfirmed 6’4”) and the fact he’s one of the gym bros. Like general vibe/personality-wise, I think Phel could be more-intimidating than K’Sante (or even Sett), but have you seen how just MASSIVE K’Sante is? HE CAN CANONICALLY BENCH SETT. Like 😮😮😮

Not to mention I feel like he’d always stick close to you in public, so no one would even dream of trying to do anything to you. (Unless they’re a whole dumbass.) K’Sante genuinely gives me very kind vibes, but he definitely protects those he loves very fiercely.

Sett

Sett is (unconfirmed) 6’7” (at least confirmed the tallest in the group), and JACKED AS HELL. Not to mention “allergic” to sleeves so those arms are out most of the time lmao. Only a fucking moron (or someone who is incredibly drunk) would look at Settrigh and go “oh yeah I am absolutely going to mess with this guy.” RIP that idiot.

He also doesn’t fuck around about the safety of the people he loves. Sett genuinely seems like the sweetest guy (I love this giant, ripped, sewing himbo so fucking much oh my fucking god) but he can/will be intentionally intimidating if it’s necessary to keep you or Ma safe (the two most important figures in his life 🥺). Will walk you home/keep you close to him in crowded situations. He always wants you to feel safe when you’re with him (you absolutely do like how could you not?).

Kayn

So this is based on both appearance and reputation. Obviously Kayn has quite the reputation from his last band (as well as being kicked out of it.) Appearance-wise, he’s not super tall, but he’s tall enough. Not to mention the piercings, tattoos, the fact he’s also in excellent shape (I mean we all saw those abs 😏), has vibrant dyed hair, a very bright red eye, and he is a total metal head. He can also, um, travel through WALLS. (Small detail lol.)

DO I EVEN HAVE TO MENTION RHAAST (even as his stage alter ego)???? Kayn can be pretty impulsive and sometimes acts first, thinks later. (He’s currently working on that with Yone, it’s fine.) Someone would be a damn fool to fuck with him or you. He just gives me very loyal guard dog vibes. (I mean he did wear the damn leash in the mv so….😝)

Yone

There is no one (let me repeat: NO ONE) I’d want to fuck with less than Yone. This man has quintessential resting bitch face (RBF), is like 6’ 2-3” (unconfirmed), in very good shaped (based on the lovely titty window of his outfit. Thank you, Riot designers) and is able to (mostly) wrangle the rest of the group. Also (hella obvious but) HE’S AN INTROVERT (INFJ specifically). People are NOT his thing (fucking MOOD).

Yone is the one who gives the most similar vibes to the TikToks I’ve seen that show cosplayers at Cons with their scarier-dressed friends/partners following behind them keeping them safe. (For Yone, it’s the RBF/air of mystery that really sets the tone.) He gives me such mature gentleman vibes as well. He’s always going to walk you home especially at night, or he’ll stay by your side in a crowd and you are just going to feel really safe with him. Top-tier scary boyfriend privilege right there.

Most

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Ok so the least and most intimidating were extremely obvious to me. It was everyone else in between that made things difficult. This was really fun to write though, even if the concept is a bit silly! 😂

[tom-foolery-incorporated]

hi I saw you do requests but you don't have a faq I can find so please feel free to ignore if this isn't ur vibe but!!! I absolutely Love the past two shockwave x reader petplay fics you've written and i was wondering if you could write something for shockwave trusting his human to get him off in a more submissive bottoming way? like him on the receiving end and maybe submitting to them (in a sort of role-playing situation. we obv know he's like. yknow lol)

if that isn't ur vibe could you write him maybe rewarding + praising his human after working a long, grueling shift ? 😭🥺 thank you!!!

I’m glad you like them!!!! It makes me so happy that people like my writing 😭

I have another Shockwave petplay fic in my drafts but it’s gonna be a lot longer than other two :3c

I just had a long grueling shift a couple days ago soooooooooo

Shockwave x reader, gender neutral, racially ambiguous, SFW (for once), reader’s job is vague, reader goes nonverbal, stressed out reader, Shockwave pampers reader with a bath

Shockwave already knew you were home when he was alerted that the door to the modified bunker you both lived in had been opened.

He turned his attention from his current tinkering to the security camera he had installed at the entrance. He expected to see you making a silly face at him or flipping him off playfully or even just going about your business. Instead he saw you slumped over tossing your bag onto the floor and kicking off your shoes with enough force he could hear the small thunk of them against the floor.

While very few, including Shockwave himself, would say he was in tune to the emotions of others right now your emotions were very obvious. He let out an exvent before pushing himself up out of his chair and making his way towards you.

You heard his metal pedes clanking against the cement floor. His yellow optic shone in the dark hallway as he turned around the corner to greet you.

Your eyes were bloodshot and puffy a telltale sign that you had been crying. The little sniffles you made only confirmed his hypothesis.

“(Y/N),” Shockwave’s voice was cold and even as if he was simply regarding your presence as fact but you knew better.

You looked up at your robotic lover while rubbing your eye with the heel of your palm. Shockwave reached his servo down to rub at your cheek. The soft skin there cold and clammy from your tears. He gently cupped your face in his servo as he knelt down with his canon resting over his knee.

“Are you injured?” His servo basically encompassed half your body as he stroked at your face with his thumb. You shook your head to Shockwave’s question. “I would like to confirm,” Shockwave said leaning down closer to you. “It’s not that I don’t trust you to tell me when you’re injured but I need to make sure you are not damaged.”

Shockwave felt up your body gently looking for any discomfort while he scanned you over with his optic. When he was finished he let he servo rest against your back cradling you where you stood.

“You are fully operational,” Shockwave said mostly to himself. “Has something happened?”

You groaned curling against his servo. That was all the confirmation he needed. “We have implemented a safety plan for when you are in distress,” Shockwave pushed against your back so you’d shuffle closer to him. “I believe it would be most logical to follow our agreed upon methods to help you.”

You looked up at Shockwave with big wet eyes. You reached your hands up at him with your fingers spread wide. He let out an amused exvent as he picked you up and with the same motion stood up to his full height.

He placed you upon his protruding chasis with your upper body resting against his cyclopian helm and his servo cupping your lap to keep you balanced. Your arms flung around his optic in a tight hug as your body started to shake once again stricken with tears. Shockwave’s finials flattened backwards upset with your current state. His digits stroked lovingly over your lap to comfort you as your tears wetted the side of his optic helm.

“Would you like to bathe before changing into your sleep coverings?” Shockwave asked tenderly.

He could feel you nod against his helm. His grip on your lap tightened protectively as he started to make his way towards the human washroom he had put together for you. It coincided with the wash rack he had built for his own sanitary purposes making your bathroom look like a carwash with a vanity. It was oddly cute how Shockwave would combine your necessary spaces. While he always claimed it was “-only logical due to our limited habitable space,” you knew he simply just wanted you around him at all times.

While Shockwave secretly wished you’d quit your job for this very reason he understood that the current economic system you lived under didn’t allow that just yet. Shockwave fantasizes about having you as his perfect house spouse preparing him his energon and helping with him relax after a long day working in his lab. In fact, how cute would you be as his little lab assistant? The idea made the scientist giddy and his spark skip a pulse at the idea. However, Shockwave would keep his self indulgent fantasies to himself for now. He still needed to care for his beautiful partner as they shiver so sadly in his servo.

The doors to your shared bathroom slid open with a whirring noise. You peaked out from your hiding place against Shockwave’s helm to watch him make his way to the human part of the washroom.

“Do you believe speaking about your day will help you cope with your current stress?” Shockwave asked as he knelt down next to the tub. Using the end of his canon arm, he tilted the spout handle into the on position letting the bathroom be filled with the sound of rushing water. He messed with the handle adjusting it until he saw that the temperature was fit enough for you. You only shook your head to his question.

“Very well, sweetspark,” Shockwave turned his helm to look at your poor body slumped against his shoulder. “I need you to test the water to make sure it is to your liking.” You nod letting Shockwave gently lift you off his shoulder and onto the tile floor. You reach your hand under the water then nod before twisting the plug to the bath closed.

Shockwave stroked your back gently. “I will fetch your scented items while you undress.” You looked over your shoulder at Shockwave and gave him a grateful smile. You could hear the whirring of his metal joints as he lifted himself up and moved towards your vanity. He poked through the cabinets looking for your special bath supplies as you stripped yourself of your work clothes.

“Will this suffice?” Shockwave asked holding up the bag of epsom salts in your direction. You nodded now fully nude and stepping into the warm water. Shockwave kneeled back down gently tipping a good amount of the salt into your water before resealing the bag and setting it down next to the tub.

“You have worked so hard today,” Shockwave said while stroking your hair with one of his digits. “I believe you deserve to rest.”

You felt your bones turn to mush as you pushed your head up against Shockwave’s finger. You could hear a soft amused hum from the mech before he grabbed your wash cloth and favorite soap. It was honestly impressive how gentle and accurate Shockwave was when handling your things seeing as he was at least five times your size.

When he deemed the wash cloth properly lathered in soap he nudged your arm with his canon so you’d lift it out of the water for him. “You do not need to prove your worth through your work ethic,” Shockwave said softly as he rubbed the soapy cloth up your arm. It was a bit awkward for him to maneuver the wash cloth due to his size but you didn’t even care to notice. “I already know your worth, my love.”

You could feel the tears welling in your eyes as Shockwave rubbed the wash cloth along your back making sure to massage you with his fingers. “Now you will rest while I take care of my sparkmate.”

[niteshade925]

April 11-14, Xi'an, China:

Some pictures of the cultural landmarks of Xi'an and some miscellaneous pics to wrap up the posts about my Xi'an trip:

First is the Bell Tower/钟楼 and Drum Tower/鼓楼 of Xi'an. The Bell Tower and the Drum Tower of Xi'an were built in 1384 and 1380 respectively, during the reign of Emperor Taizu of Ming (personal name Zhu Yuanzhang, aka that one emperor who was a beggar). Both towers were rebuilt during Qing dynasty, then repaired extensively in the latter half of 20th century.

This square-ish tower is the Bell Tower:

The hotel we stayed at was fairly close to the Bell Tower so I was able to get a couple more pictures of it, but we didn't go inside either towers though. I kind of regret that, but I regret not being able to go to the Shaanxi History Museum more.

Side note: the Tang-era Jingyun Bell/景云钟 used to be inside this tower (hence the name), where it would sound in the mornings to signal the beginning of the day. However, the Jingyun Bell was moved to Beilin Museum in 1953 for conservation purposes, which was also where I saw the real thing (see my earlier post about Beilin Museum), but a tour guide told me it would be moved again soon to another (indoor) museum, where it would stay for the foreseeable future. The bell that is inside the Bell Tower right now is a modern working replica of the Jingyun Bell.

And now the rectangular Drum Tower. The drums in the tower used to sound in the evenings, signaling the end of the day. This is summed up in the term 晨钟暮鼓, or "morning bell tolls and evening drum beats".

The bian'e/匾额 sign on the south side of the Drum Tower reads 文武盛地 (traditionally Chinese reads from right to left when written horizontally), which translates to "the place where literary and martial arts flourish". The bian'e itself is 8m (~26.2 ft) long and weighs 2-3 metric tons (about as heavy as a SUV). The bian'e on the north side of the Drum Tower reads 声闻于天, which translates to "a sound heard even in the heavens", referring to the sound of the drums. The phrase itself came from the poem "A Crane Cries" (鹤鸣; translation may vary depending on the translator) from the Classic of Poetry/《诗经》.

On to notable souvenirs from random shops:

Tang-era style Thicc Beefcake Horses 👌

Left: figurines of (mostly) Tang-era girls. Right: a type of candy from Sichuan called "dogshit candy"/狗屎糖 (yes that's really the name lol) made from soy beans, peanuts, and barley malt syrup (called maiyatang/麦芽糖). The smaller text on the bottom of the bag reads "eat dogshit candy and you will have dogshit luck", which actually means good luck btw, because the chances of stepping on dog doo-doo is actually kinda low if you think about it

And last but not least, the ancient city walls of Xi'an. The city walls that we see here were built at the beginning of Ming dynasty (latter half of 14th century), but analysis of the cross section revealed that it also contained sections of the Tang-era (618 - 907), Song-era (960 - 1279), and Yuan-era (1206 - 1368) city walls within it in layers. These walls are 12m (39.4ft) tall and the top of the wall is 12-14m (39.4-46ft) wide, enough to pass multiple horse-drawn carts at once, which was important for the defense of the city. Below is the Anyuan Gate/安远门 (the north gate), and this used to be where the Tang-era Taiji Palace/太极宫 (not to be confused with Taiji Hall of the Forbidden City) wall connected with the Eastern Palace/东宫, where the crown prince resided:

Coming around the side gate of Anyuan Gate. There's also a moat (护城河 in Chinese, lit. "protect city river"), but I didn't take pictures of it.

Outside the Shangwu Gate/尚武门. 尚武 roughly translates to "respect of the martial". There used to be draw bridges outside these gates as well, but for ease of modern transportation, most of them have been rebuilt as fixed bridges with roads on top for vehicles and pedestrians. The only draw bridge that has been rebuilt (that I know of) was the one outside the Yongning Gate/永宁门 aka the southern gate.

Leaving Xi'an city. These are the corner towers of the city wall:

Two cute sculptures inside the Xi'an Xianyang International Airport/西安咸阳国际机场, the left one represents Shaanxi's Qinqiang/秦腔 folk opera, and the right one is, of course, the famous terra cotta soldier:

Goodbye Xi'an! Hopefully I can come back in the future and go to Shaanxi History Museum..........

[violetisderp]

OMG

YOU SEE THIS???

RIGHT HERE????

MY RANDOM HEAD CANNON, MERHEHEHEHE.

I like to think he dosnt speak, and uses sign language. It dosnt say he dose in this but STILL. AND I KNOW ITS MOST LIKELY REFERING TO THE CARTOON BUT IDC.

I am just happy about random things lol.

Also i have abit of a theory for Bobby Bearhug (Big body)

Cause it's said she has spasuims or idk how to spell it. But like, she's also not responsive and stuff and they had to fix stuff.

The words are kinda hard to read so, I'll write them here;

Subject

Bobby Bearhug: Smiling Bigger Bodies Initiative

Observations

Three hours following awakening-observations:

Her body continues to spasm Eyelids flutter. Paws twitch.

Subject doesn't seem to show any awareness of where she is. Could sensory functions be distorted, or altogether absent? We speak to her, try to get her attention by makeing sounds, but she dose not register our attempts.

The auditory nerve in the ears directly communicates sound to the auditory cortex in the brain. It appears we may have failed at wiring the connective cords and might be forced to go back under the knife to fix this. A lack of response seems to indicate the necessity of this task.

It's clear that our procedures still haven't corrected issues with vocals, ethier. Her mouth moves, as if to speak, but nothing is said. We'll need to correct these procedures with subsequent subjects if we're to potentially have these toys interact with our children.

-End-

SO. For a unknown period of time, she couldn't speak or hear, but as far as I'm aware it says nothing about physical contact. So, I'm assuming she can still FEEL, but hearing and speaking she couldn't do. (Obviously)

There abit easier to read but I'll write them out just incase;

Several hours after awakening. She tried to stand and walk to the other side of the cell but couldn't keep her balance. She looks to be searching for help. Continuing to spasm.

She's trying to scream, but she has no voice. She's silent. I'm not sure if she knows she's not making any sound.

Conclusions:

Work will need to be done to perfect the Bigger Body formula we began with Boxy. Each iteration improves on the former. However, if we're to meet Dr. Sawyer, and produce Bigger Bodies subjects that we can integrate into a factory setting, then more work will need to be done.

As it stands, Bobby will require further experimentation. If we're to create Subject 1188 according to schematics, then each of these "Smiling Critters" will prove a good testing ground for ironing out these issues.

-end-

SO. It seems they did some more tests and put her "under the knife" some more. It dosnt seem like it helps much for her movements but it's better then motionless. Now I'm not sure if they manage to fix her speaking and hearing,

Also, the little Doodle at the bottom, you can slightly see her ribs, but with CatNap you can fully see his ribcage and he is oddly skinny. But with dogday he ISNT skinny (which also funny cause he was left to hang, now i have other theorys for that but on were on about bobby.)

Ik it's a sketch BUT STILL.

Sooooooooo, from what we know from what dogday said:

"Im.. the last.. of the smiling critters" (R.I.P sad boi-)

So we know Bobby has to have died, but we don't know how, so she has to have died from SoMtHiNg. So she could have straved to death, from what poppy told us in chapter 3 (deep sleep)

Somthing about how they hid the bodies and "feasted on them."

And from what we know about Mrs. Delight, how she killed who she saw AS HER OWN SISTERS to stay alive. And so they very much can starve.

But Bobby could have also died from one of the surgerys she went under, while trying to fix her hearing or her speaking.

She had to have gone under quite abit "to fix her" and the problems she was having.

SPEAKING OF EATING A DRINKING, how do they eat and drink, they speak and there mouth stays open cause there in a plush so uhm-? And mommy long legs mouth moves but not the smiling critters, it stays open so like... how..?

Sorry about the ramble I was just having a moment

[pathologicalreid]

I'm a terrible writer but always get good ideas lmao

Idk if you've ever seen friends or not but there is this one scene where Rachel and Ross go to a sonogram appt and she has a whole breakdown cause all she saw on the sonogram was a blob and not a baby. (I'm pretty sure it was like their first appt or something idk)

I'm a sucker for dad!spence and you're one of my favorite writers for him.

Feel free to totally ignore this if this is trash lol💓

amorphous | S.R.

your first appointment goes exactly how you expected it to, but not at all how you wanted it to

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff w/ comfort content warnings: pregnancy, ultrasounds, doctors, pregnancy symptoms, emetophobia warning word count: 795 a/n: i have never seen friends but i hope that this fic does your request justice. ilysm.

You put on a brave face as you accepted your appointment card from the secretary, thanking her for her time before sliding the card into your pocket, trusting that Spencer would remember the date and time of your next appointment.

Everyone had tried to prepare you for this appointment. At eight weeks, all you were going to do was confirm that you were actually pregnant and make sure that you were measuring accurately. The internet told you that was going to happen. Spencer told you that was going to happen. Your OB told you that was going to happen.

None of that prevented the sheer disappointment you felt while leaving the obstetrician’s office. You lagged behind Spencer, taking the steps to the parking lot considerably slower than he was.

It didn’t take him long to notice, keenly aware of your every move as if he had developed a paternal superpower, your husband waited for you at the bottom of the steps. “What’s wrong?”

You opened your mouth to respond, gesturing over to the building before shrugging, “I thought it would help,” you confessed, sticking out your bottom lip in disappointment.

Spencer’s gaze softened as he ushered you off to the side and out of other people’s way. He knew you had been struggling with the lack of visibility that early pregnancy had. You hadn’t told friends and family yet, the only people who knew – aside from medical professionals – were the two of you.

“I just wanted to see it,” you mumbled, looking sheepishly to the ground. “I thought it would make it feel real.”

He nodded in understanding, using the pads of his thumbs to deftly wipe away any stray tears on your cheeks, “You saw the screen though, right?”

You thought you had been looking at the screen, but maybe you had been so distracted by the transducer that your brain hadn’t processed what you had seen. The baby hadn’t been in a good enough position for you to hear the heartbeat.

“Here,” Spencer said, setting his hands on your upper arms before guiding you over to an empty bench. Once you were sat, he dug through your purse and produced the sonogram images that you had been given.

Suspiciously, you eyed the black and white pictures that Spencer had gently set in your lap, “It just… it’s just a little white blob.”

Maintaining your attention, Spencer pointed at the picture, “Do you see this part here? That’s the head,” he dragged his finger over slightly, “There’s the body,” he showed you. Guiding you through the sonogram, showing you every part in hope that it would console you.

“I just…” you faltered, looking at the photos as you tried to see it as a baby instead of a blob, “I don’t have a bump, we couldn’t hear the heartbeat, I guess… I guess I wanted some sign that they’re okay in there.”

Crouched down in front of you, Spencer cocked his head to the side, “Honey, what’s the first thing you did this morning?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “I showered?”

Spencer shook his head, “Even before that, the very first thing you did this morning,” he encouraged you.

Your face warmed as your eyes flittered up to his, “I threw up.”

“And do you know what made you so sick?” He asked pointedly. Smiling timidly, you looked down at the photos with a newfound fondness, “The baby.”

He nodded, “Every morning that you wake up nauseous and every time you’re tired in the middle of the day are all little signs that they’re doing just fine.”

You sniffled slightly, wiping tears from your face with the sleeve of your sweater, “I’m sorry,” you murmured, “You probably think I’m being so dramatic.”

“I think you’re scared, and it’s okay to feel that way,” he reassured you. “We’re gonna see them again, okay? Next time we go they’ll be more than three times bigger. Our little blob will have tiny arms and legs.”

You frowned down at the pictures, still frustrated that this was all you had, “Twelve weeks feel so far away.” You had scheduled your nuchal scan for the end of next month, which felt like eons into the future.

Spencer smiled at up at you, “It’ll be here before you know it,” he told you softly, “No more tears, okay? I still have an hour before I have to go to work, did you want to get something to eat?”

Nodding softly, you put the photos back in your purse before standing up, “Yeah, maybe something with raspberries? That’s how big my phone says the baby is – the size of a raspberry.”

Tilting his head back slightly, Spencer chuckled at your proposition, “Absolutely, we’ll find the best raspberry dish in the district.”

[lokischocolatefountain]

Sunglasses

Married!Javi series Masterlist

Follow me on @javierpenaisapunk for my fic recs

Fandom: Narcos

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Rating: G (wooo, that’s a first for me) Just fluffy fluff, you guys.

Word count: 1.6k words

Summary: Of all the things Javi has seen through his sunglasses, the sunglasses’ favorite sight is his relationship with his wife.

A/N: Apparently I’m writing fics from the POV of objects now. Hopefully it’s not really weird lol. Hit the follow button to read my next fic golf from the perspective of the sex Afghan on Javi’s leather couch (jk). Leave your girl a comment and reblog to fuel my obsession with writing this guy.

The Aviators were a staple of his look.

They could be anywhere. Dangling off the third or fourth button of his shirt at the bottom of the deep V that began at the collar. Perched on his nose, amber glass masking the intense gaze of intoxicating brown eyes.

They knew more intimately than most, his deepest fears. They had front row seats as he stared down the barrel of guns pointed at him. They knew the fear of seeing a teenage boy at the end of his gun, his hands shaking as the foundations of his morals stained under the pressure of his job.

If you asked them, they’d tell you of everything Javier saw at work, even the memories that he repressed to be able to wear his gun and badge another day. If you asked them, they’d tell you the first time he saw her. It was momentary. Fleeting. Nothing special. The aviators would let you know that his eyes did not linger, contrary to what his pretty pink lips whispered into her ears at night when he buried himself inside her. “Couldn’t take my eyes off of you the first time I saw you, Hermosa…” She’d moan and pull him close and kiss the lips that waxed poetic in between the dirty, dirty words that made her clench around him and pull his hair and arch her neck to let his lips taste her.

The aviators would tell you that they served as cover when he wanted to keep his emotions to himself. Police work did not take away how emotive those brown eyes were. So they sometimes served as blinds on the window to his soul.

She was the sunglasses’ favorite sight. Not because she was extraordinarily beautiful. Their owner would disagree- he would argue that she was extraordinary in every way, including beauty. He would add a couple more adjectives. But the aviators were more objective than the man they belonged to. However, both man and sunglasses could agree that she was their favorite view.

For Javier, it was her beauty- the spark in her eyes, the upward turn of her lips when she spotted him, the sign of desire when she looked him up and down, the way her shirts clung to her breasts, the fabric of her skirts that hugged her ass— you get the gist. For the sunglasses, the joy was in the way his eyes responded to the view.

First it was just curiosity. Pretty woman, sat by herself at the same restaurant where he sometimes had breakfast. Hard not to notice that she was a regular, one who sat at the exact same table and ate the same breakfast everyday.

Then it was desire. Nothing out of the normal for the man, the aviators would tell you. They’d seen desire on his side plenty when he saw women through them. The glasses were an accomplice to the way his eyes would gallivant over beautiful bodies. They sat close as his mind evaluated just how much he would love to have other parts of his body enjoy what his eyes had spotted.

As the relationship progressed, the aviators found themself in the mix a lot. Their owner found himself visiting her more often than other women. The pair was sometimes pressed against the chests of the couple as they drank from each other’s lips. Her hand sometimes took them off its place tucked in his shirt and set them on her bedside table.

The sunglasses would be the first to tell you when everything changed between Javier and the woman. At least on Javier’s part. Eyes that roamed the surroundings frantically to look for danger in every room acted uncharacteristically around her. They’d stop on her, take her in. Just when the glasses thought that their owner’s eyes had had enough, they’d find him continuing to stare. They were glad the man had her to look at. Something nice. Someone that made him happy.

She got closer to him than anyone else. And he let her.

The aviators weren’t a perfect barrier. If one stepped closer, stood heart to heart with the man, emotive brown eyes would reveal the depths of the soul.

She saw it through the sunglasses’ amber barrier. He allowed her the spot in front of his chest from where she could see it. She seemed to like what she saw, staying in the spot he gave her though he was afraid, though his mind told him to step back before she saw too much— before he liked what he saw more than he should. The aviators could tell you that he was long past that point.

There was no stopping now.

It was because of her that the aviators knew there was a world beyond sicarios, sex workers, and bosses cross at Javier for his transgressions.

There were dates in grassy parks, picking her up from university, and accompanying her to markets where she bought vegetables that Javier loaded in his jeep. The aviators were unaware of the existence of vegetables before that. They would be quite annoyed if you mocked them for this lapse in knowledge. To be fair to the object, Javier’s diet was strictly limited to whiskey and cigarettes.

The aviators were loyal. Javier only.

But they didn’t mind when she playfully snatched them off Javier’s face and placed them on her own. She played at his seriousness, looked through them in a mockery of his stern police-like gaze and let some expletives slip off her tongue in an imitation of him. It pleased the sunglasses that this woman who was so close to him believed them to be such an essential part of him that she used them to mimic him.

They got a glimpse into her soul then, could see that she had no malicious intent in snatching them off the rightful owner. It was not theft.

The twinkle in his eyes when she did that told the glasses that he enjoyed it. Other belongings found themselves on his women quite a lot. Especially his colorful shirts. They told stories of the beautiful women who’d wear them for a period after they’d been discarded on the floor in favor of access to the chest they covered up. The aviators didn’t have any such stories.

Until her.

The aviators would tell the shirts that they’d met her eyes, seen into her soul, seen that she liked him just as much as he liked her. The shirts in turn shared that he liked seeing her wear them after they found pleasure in each other’s bodies. It was different with her, the shirts would say. He liked her wearing them— the shirts — not just because he liked evidence of beautiful bodies in his belongings. No, he liked his woman wearing his shirts.

He lent them to her sometimes. When she squirted under the bright sun, he’d pluck them off his own face and offer them for her to wear. She’d smile and accept them, taking it as a gesture that he cared.

The sunglasses knew before the man himself that he’d fallen in love. Closest to the windows to his soul and all. His shirts would argue that they knew even before the sunglasses— they felt his heart beat faster when she came into contact with him. The sunglasses would argue that they knew better than the shirts— shirts changed everyday, but sunglasses didn’t.

They had the full picture if you will.

Ironically, the full picture was forgotten when it came to her. He had eyes only for her when she was around, the background blending together and fading away. Nothing else was important. They stared before only because of her physicality, but now they stared to learn and memorize every inch of her. They delighted in every micro expression, every smile and every frown, every which way she responded to him.

If you asked the aviators, they’d tell you proudly of being there when Javier’s eyes found a sparkling diamond ring in a jewelry store display. He took them off to admire it, to see its natural twinkle without the amber barrier. He didn’t buy it.

It was after all the biggest, shiniest rock that made it to the display of the store.

Not something one could afford on a government salary. Nothing you’d find on a humble professor’s finger. But, it put the thought in his head. Marriage. It frightened him, but not because of the commitment. No, it was fear that no sparkly bit of carbon would make her agree to a lifetime with his ass. He didn’t feel it with the last woman, Lorraine.

They blended in with her things soon. Next to her hair clip, her novel, both their wristwatches, and her earrings that he removed and set aside carefully when they made love. Just as his pants and shirts acquainted themselves with her dresses— on their bedroom floor, their laundry hamper, their dresser drawers.

Amber glasses would acquire scratches over the years. Javier would leave it forgotten in a drawer somewhere in his new home with his wife. Another pair of aviators, shiny and unscratched, would sit on the bridge of his beautiful nose. But if you asked them, they’d tell you of their clear vision though the scratches and from the dark depths of the drawer. They’d tell you that he still looked at her with the same adoration despite the years.

They’d find themselves roughhoused in small hands that like to play pretend. They'd sit on a nose, smaller yet similar to Javier’s as little lips that definitely belonged to her tried to talk like Papa. She’d laugh and tell him that their little one sounded exactly like him. He’d roll his eyes but enjoy the peaceful bubble he’d managed to forge with her.

The new aviators stayed shiny for not having seen the horrors, for having only the sight of his happy wife and growing family. But the OG, they’d proudly tell you that they shined despite the horrors of his old DEA job because they were there when it all began.

[slut4thebroken]

Punishment

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Nightwing x criminal!reader

Summary | When all of Nightwing’s usual methods for stopping criminal!reader are unsuccessful, he tries a more… unconventional approach.

Warnings | Smut, sexual content, 18+, knife play, blood (barely), masturbation, sex, unprotected sex, breeding

Words | 4.5k

Notes | There’s already a part 2 in the works but I’m working on other fics rn so don’t expect it soon lol

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Groggily opening your eyes, you looked around the dark room to try and figure out where you were. When you moved to get up is when you finally noticed your wrists were tied to the arms of a chair. This guy was thorough because he also restrained your ankles and the tops of your shins to each leg of the chair. You groaned at the sting on your skin as you pulled harder against the restraints. 

“You’re just going to hurt yourself if you keep doing that.” Your head snapped up when you heard the voice from behind you. Of course it’s him. 

“I’ve broken free before. I’ll take my chances.” You replied, continuing to pull on the rope. 

“Not from these.” He chuckled and you eyed the intricate knots holding your wrists down. 

“What are you a fucking Boy Scout?” You muttered, giving up on your wrists and trying to move your ankles. 

“Not quite.” He was closer now. The hairs on the back of your neck rose as you anxiously waited for your captor to show himself. You couldn’t even hear his footsteps. Finally you saw black and blue out of the corner of your eye. 

“I didn’t know vigilanties started taking captives.” You said, voice dripping in contempt.  

“Just the pretty ones.” He stood in front of you now and you looked up at his face, then quickly rolled your eyes at the smirk on his lips. 

“I’m flattered.” You deadpanned. “Why am I here? Has Blüdhaven’s hero finally gone off the rails and resorted to kidnapping? What’s next, are you gonna kill me too?” 

“I would never kill you.” He grabbed his bird shaped shuriken and leaned down so his face was just inches from yours. “Maybe some light maiming…” He purred, dragging the tip of the weapon down your cheek. “A little torture- though I reckon you’d enjoy that.” He smirked, using it to pull your bottom lip down. Before he fully released it, he used the edge to lightly split the skin, making you hiss in pain but mostly surprise. 

“But that’s not why you’re here.” He said, suddenly standing up. He moved behind you again, then grabbed the back of the chair and started dragging you to the side of the room until your back was to a wall. 

“Fuck you, bird boy. Let me go.” You spat indignantly as you pulled on the restraints again. 

“Don’t rush things, sweetheart. That’s for later.” He jeered, taking a few steps back, and you scoffed. “But for now… I think I could use a little target practice.” You stared at him with wide eyes, trying to mask fear with anger. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You spat, squirming in the restraints again. He took the shuriken in his hand and tossed it up into the air a little, letting it spin before finally catching it. You froze and clenched your jaw, trying not to show any sign of fear, but he practically had a sixth sense for it. 

“Don’t try to act tough. It’s hotter when you’re scared.” He smirked, then quickly threw the weapon at you, making you flinch and let out an embarrassing yelp. You only opened your eyes when you heard it hit the wall behind you. 

“What the fuck?!” You screamed, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. He grabbed another one and ran a gloved finger over the edge as he watched you. 

“If I were you, I’d stop moving. I’m a little out of practice.” The glint in his eyes made you both nervous and horny. He always makes you feel like that though. Your breath hitched as the second one flew by your face, landing on the wall a little left of your head. 

“Good girl, keep that up. Although you could scream a little more for me.” He critiqued you casually, as if he wasn’t currently throwing weapons at your face. And despite your pounding heart and sweaty hands, you could feel warmth pooling in your stomach. You wanted to blame it solely on him calling you a good girl, but you know for a fact that’s not true. 

Your chest heaved as you stared at him, watching him reach for another. Sick of the humiliation you felt from being so scared, you tried to get some semblance of power back. 

“You must be pretty sick in the head if you’re getting off on this.” Your faux confidence shattered the second the corners of his lips turned up. 

“If I’m sick then what does that make you?” He raised his brows as you floundered for a response. 

“I- I’m not…” 

“Sorry, what was that?” He held the shuriken up behind his ear, pretending to use it to hear you better. 

“I am not getting off on this, you sick fuck.” You spat, glaring at him. 

“No?” 

“N-“ The third shuriken hit the wall before you could even finish, making you gasp. You bit your lip to contain the sounds crawling up your throat. 

“So if I checked right now, you wouldn’t have soaked through your underwear already?” He smirked and you gritted your teeth. 

“No.” You decreed. 

“Well now you’re just lying.” The bastard looked so fucking amused- but doesn’t he always? Anytime you fight, he enjoys riling you up, letting you get a few hits in before easily beating you, always making sure to rub it in during and after. 

“Is this the only reason I’m here? So you can get off on trying to scare me.”

“Trying?” He scoffed a laugh, making you huff in frustration. 

“Why am I here?” You pressed and he paused, eyes roaming your body as he considered you. 

“That’s not the only reason, no.” He said simply, making you even angrier. 

“Why?” Your voice was firm as you stared at him, waiting for a response. 

“Clearly the cops aren’t equipped to handle you since I’ve handed you over to them six times now, and every time you’ve escaped.” You tried to ignore the way your core ached at how that almost sounded like a compliment. “And since I can’t hold you forever and I’m not going to kill you, I figured a punishment might do the trick.” You scoffed a laugh at that. 

“Really?” You deadpanned, raising your brows. He just continued as if you hadn’t even spoken.  

“But I knew it had to be a special punishment. One that would really resonate with you.” 

“And this was the best you came up with?” You replied in disbelief, poorly containing your laughter. 

“I haven’t started the punishment yet. I’m just having some fun fucking with you while also getting you ready for said punishment. Multitasking.” He explained with a shrug. 

“So what is the punishment then?” You forced yourself to ask even though you probably didn’t want to know the answer.   

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. Not unless you ask nicely.” 

What the fuck does that mean??

He grabbed another shuriken and you let out a heavy breath. He’s not going to hurt you, you tried to remind yourself. 

“I wonder…” His gaze moved between you and the weapon, before he finally held his free hand up to cover his eyes. 

“Wait-“ You cut off with a sound that was partly a gasp and partly a whimper when the edge grazed your ear. You stared at him in shock as he removed his hand from his face. “You fucking cut me!” You yelled, feeling the hot sting on your ear. 

“Calm down, I barely grazed you.” He scoffed and you clenched your jaw, trying not to explode from anger… and arousal. He walked toward you and leaned down. Taking your jaw in his hand, he turned your head to examine your ear. “So dramatic…” He muttered under his breath. 

When he released your jaw, you took the opportunity before he moved away to slam your head into his. It hurt really fucking bad, but the satisfaction you felt from watching a trail of blood fall from his nose made you forget all about it. He brought his hand up to feel, smearing the blood with his finger. You couldn’t help the smirk growing on your face. When he looked away from his finger to your face, his jaw clenched as he let out a heavy breath through his nose. 

“Fine. I won’t be nice anymore.” He stood back up and you could hear him grabbing the shurikens from the wall. 

“That was you being nice?” 

He rounded you again and crouched down between your open legs. He lightly dragged his hands from your ankles to your knees, making your breath hitch. 

“W-what are you doing?” You gasped, staring at him with wide eyes. His hands continued up your thighs, painfully slow. “What the fuck are you doing?” You snapped, voice raising in volume. When his hands kept going up, you started pulling on the restraints again.

“I’m seeing if you were lying.” He all but shrugged, glancing at your face before looking back down to your legs. His hands reached the top of your thighs and you took in a sharp breath when he squeezed them. You knew if it was skin on skin, he would’ve been digging his nails into them. 

“Kidnapping and now rape? Didn’t know you had it in you.” You said breathlessly, making him release a low chuckle. 

“Always so dramatic.” His finger brushed your heat and you choked on a gasp. Finally he removed his hands and you let out a heavy breath. He quickly untied the knots on your legs and then moved to your wrists. When you were sitting there, now fully free, he rose to his feet and took a step back. 

“Go ahead. Leave.” You stared at him in confusion as his words repeated in your head. 

“What?” 

“If you really don’t want to be here, then leave.” He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. You tentatively got to your feet as you rubbed your sore wrists. You took a small step away from him, never letting your gaze leave him. 

“What are you playing at?” You narrowed your eyes at him and he chuckled under his breath. 

“Nothing. If you’re not even a little bit curious about what’s going to happen, then go. I won’t stop you.” You took another step away but froze once his words fully registered. Fuck… you are curious. And the bastard knows it. 

You know you should run, not give him a chance to turn you in again. But he said himself that he’s going to try something different. You just don’t know what that something is and it’s killing you. As is the growing knot of arousal in your stomach. 

“Tell me.” You snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“No.” 

You huffed and looked away from him, then started walking. You only made it a few feet before stopping. Letting out a heavy sigh, you cursed under your breath. This is a monumentally bad idea. Probably one of the worst you’ve had. You turned back to him and watched as he tried to hide the satisfied smirk on his stupid, pretty face. Taking a few steps toward him, you huffed and looked at the ground with a scowl. This is basically like waving a white flag and you fucking hate it. 

“Tell me and I’ll stay.” You said quietly. 

“But that would ruin the surprise.” He chuckled and you looked up at him. 

“I hate surprises.” You deadpanned. 

“Not this one.” 

He took a step forward and you instinctively moved back. He continued until your back hit the wall. Placing both hands on the wall on either side of your head, he leaned down a little until he was in your space. You bit your lip to hold in the sounds you wanted to make from him being so close. 

“Good girl. You made the right choice by staying.” He rasped and your breath hitched at the praise. “Now. I'm not done playing our game yet.” He smirked as he snaked his hand up your torso to the zipper of your cat suit. You let out a shaky breath as he pulled it down at a tortuously slow pace. You could feel your head getting floaty already and he’s barely done anything. 

“What game?” You whispered. He gave you a low chuckle and instead of responding, pulled the top half of your suit down your body. Your chest heaved as you watched his gaze trail all over your body. You stood there in only a bra, with your suit hanging around your hips, and even without the clothing, your body was practically on fire.

He pulled you back over to the chair and had your stand in front of it as he kneeled at your feet. You swallowed thickly as his hands burned a trail up your thighs to your hips. Grabbing the suit and your underwear, he slowly dragged them down your legs until they fell to the floor around your ankles. He didn’t even bother removing your shoes to fully undress you. 

He maneuvered you to sit on the chair, then angled your hips up so your heat was completely visible to him. You blushed and closed your thighs but he just forced them back open as far as they could go in the chair. 

“I don’t want to have to tie you up again, but I will.” He warned and you bit your lip and gave him a small nod. Before standing up, he dragged a finger through your slit, careful not to apply too much pressure. Pulling his hand away, he smirked at your arousal that was now very obviously coating the gloved fingertip, making you flush in embarrassment. He stood up and took a couple steps back as he looked you up and down. You could feel how sweaty your hands were as you gripped the arms of the chair. 

“Touch yourself.” 

“W-what?” You gasped out, eyes widening in shock. But despite that, your stomach still twisted at his words. 

“Do it. Show me how you make yourself come.” He crossed his arms over his chest as he widened his stance. 

“I usually have a vibrator for that.” You raised your brows and he gave you an amused smile. 

“I’m going to want to see that next time.” He smirked and your stomach fluttered at the thought of a next time. 

Tentatively bringing a hand down to your heat, you looked at him for confirmation. You didn’t get any, but his lack of response was confirmation enough. 

You let out a quiet gasp when your fingers met your clit. Wasting no time, you started rubbing circles over it, biting your lip to contain your sounds. 

“Ready to continue?” He asked and your brows furrowed in confusion but the expression quickly dropped when he pulled out his shurikens. Your hand slowed down as you prepared to object. 

“Don’t slow down. I said I wouldn’t hurt you but that is subject to change.” You hesitantly obeyed, maintaining constant, fast circles over your clit as he took a shuriken in his right hand, preparing to throw. You let out a low whine at the image of him handling the weapon and he chuckled. 

“Feel free to beg me to stop.” He gave you a small smirk then quickly threw it at you. You let out a loud gasp as you flinched and moved your hand faster. Before you could even say a word, he was already throwing the second one at you. 

“Fuck-“ You released a choked moan and quickly bit your lip to stifle it, but the damage was already done. 

“What was that about you not getting off on this?” He snickered. 

“Shut up.” You grumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up. He tossed the third one into the air, then effortlessly caught it. 

“Look at how soaked your cunt is, I can see it dripping from here. Bring your fingers down, get them nice and wet.” You let out a loud whine at his words. Tentatively moving your fingers down, you barely had to move away from your clit until you felt your arousal. Your cheeks burned under his gaze, but it only encouraged you. 

You brushed your fingers through your slit, just barely dipping inside your entrance before pulling away and bringing it up to your mouth. You sucked your arousal off your fingers and practically beamed at the low groan he released. 

“Look at you,” He cooed condescendingly, “I didn’t even have to tell you to act like a whore. It just comes naturally to you, doesn’t it?” Letting out a whimper, you brought your hand back down to your core, this time slipping your fingers inside your entrance with a low moan. You immediately clenched down on the intrusion as your hips bucked into the stimulation. 

“Fuck…” You said breathlessly, watching his hungry eyes roam over your entire body. 

“Something’s missing…” He pondered, tapping the corner of the weapon to his lips. “Take your tits out.” He gave you a small smirk and despite this being one of the more tame things he’s said tonight, you couldn’t hold down the moan crawling up your throat from his words. You made quick work of pulling the cups of your bra down until they rested below your breasts. The cool air on your now bare nipples made you shiver. 

“Good girl.” He purred. Growing needier, you reached a hand up to play with your nipples and pressed the heel of your hand into your clit. Your back arched off the chair as your head tilted back, mouth open in a silent moan. When the shuriken passed over your face, only missing you by a couple inches, you snapped your head back up to look at him with wide eyes. 

“Look at me.” His tone left no room for discussion. So you did your best to keep your eyes open and on him. “One more?” He raised his eyebrows and you let out a quiet whimper. Instead of waiting for your answer, he took another shuriken in his hand and eyed you, deciding where to throw. 

“How about one more time without looking?” He smirked and you stiffened. 

“You fucking cut me last time. No way.” You spat, odium poorly concealing arousal. 

“Barely.” 

“You still cut me!” He was silent for a moment and you squirmed under his gaze. 

“Remember that one night? Gotham Museum of Antiquities?” You stiffened as you immediately recalled what he was talking about. 

“That was an accident.” You pleaded, even though you knew he wouldn’t believe you. 

“You still stabbed me.” He scoffed. 

“On accident!”

“How do you stab someone on accident?” He exclaimed and you huffed in annoyance at the arguing. 

“Fine! Go ahead and stab me so we can be even and you can stop bitching about it.” You weren’t serious. You knew he knew you weren’t serious. And yet…

“Fine.” Before you could protest, the weapon was already flying past you, grazing your bicep before hitting the wall. 

“Fuck! You fucking dick head- that hurt.” You yelled, removing your hand from your breast to grab your arm. He snickered and walked toward you, grabbing the shurikens from the wall, then returning to his spot in front of you on his knees. He moved your hand to look at the cut. 

“I’d hardly say we’re even. But if you apologize, then I’ll let it go.” He did a shit job at hiding his smirk and you rolled your eyes. 

“In your dreams, bird boy.” You scoffed. His eyes roamed your face for a moment, then he grabbed your neck and lifted you from the chair. You let out a whine at the loss of your fingers as he pushed you into the wall, holding a shuriken at your side. Right at the exact place where you had stabbed him all those months ago. 

“Should I make it even then?” He mused, trailing the cool blade up and down your waist, making you shiver. You reached out to move his hand away, but he quickly grabbed both of your wrists and held them in one hand above your head against the wall. His leg slotted between yours as he pressed his body weight into you, preventing you from moving. 

“Hm?” He raised his brows in question but the only sound you could release was a shaky breath. When you felt the sting on your side, you looked down to find a drop of blood trailing toward your hip. He pressed a little harder and that was all it took for you to concede. 

“Fine! I’m sorry, okay?” The pressured lightened, but he didn’t remove it from your skin yet. 

“Sorry for what?” He smirked, making you huff and clench your jaw. 

“I’m sorry for stabbing you.” You muttered, looking away from him. 

“I don’t know… I’m not entirely convinced you mean it.” He patronized, pushing the blade into once more. 

“Okay! Okay- I’m sorry! I’m sorry for stabbing you- honestly I am.” You cried, trying to move away from the stinging pain on your stomach. He removed the blade entirely and you let out a heavy breath. 

“Good girl. I forgive you.” You forced yourself not to scoff or roll your eyes. He brought the weapon up to your face, then trailed the tip of it down your cheek with a condescending smirk. 

“Now. Is your cunt nice and ready for me?” You nodded eagerly, feeling yourself clench around nothing at the thought of him being inside you soon. He quickly turned you around and pushed your chest into the wall, making you grunt from the sudden impact. You heard rustling for a few seconds, then felt the blunt head of his cock rub up and down your folds. He used one hand to hold your hips still, as the other lined himself up to your entrance. Not making you wait at all, he slowly pushed inside. You choked on a gasp at the burning stretch, then let out a whine as he just kept going deeper and deeper until his hips were finally flush with your ass. His now free hand also grabbed your hip and he held you against him. 

“Fuck- How are you so fucking big?” You whimpered, feeling his grip tighten. 

“How are you so fucking tight? I thought you said you were ready for me.” He groaned. 

“I thought I was.” You snapped, trying to focus on relaxing around his length. He slowly dragged his cock out until only the tip was inside, then forced himself back in. He repeated that slowly a few times before gradually increasing his speed. With each thrust, you could feel it getting easier to take him until finally all you could focus on was the blinding pleasure. 

His hips pistoned into you, each time making you let out short gasps from the impact. You clawed at the wall, scrambling for purchase as his thrusts started to speed up. His grip on your hips turned bruising and you let out a small whimper as it added to the growing arousal in your stomach. 

“Please.” You gasped out. No longer able to hold yourself up, your chest collapsed into the wall. You could just barely see him behind you with your cheek pressed to the cold concrete. 

“What are you begging for?” He wasn’t even slightly out of breath. 

“I- I want to come. Please.” You whined, knees starting to shake from his relentless pounding. 

“Not yet.” 

“Please!” He let out a dark chuckle that made you shiver. 

“You still haven’t figured it out yet?” He asked, amused. When you didn’t respond, he continued, “You’re not coming.” 

“W-what? Why not?” You whimpered, tears starting to well up in your eyes from desperation. 

“Bad girls don’t get to come.” You should have expected that. After all, he did say this was a punishment. 

“I won’t be bad anymore.” You cried, trying to turn your head more to see him better. “Please- I promise.” 

“I don’t believe you.” He said simply, making you let out a choked sob. His pace grew more frantic and it seemed like he was getting close- the knowledge made your cunt ache even more. 

“Please! I can’t hold it,” You were cut off by a hand wrapping around your throat, pulling you up and against his body, his thrusts never ceasing. 

“If you come, I’ll ruin it.” He growled, making you moan.  

“Unless you want me to come right fucking now, you need to take your hand off my neck.” The usual attitude in your voice was replaced by an embarrassing breathiness. 

“And make it easy for you?” You didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking. After a beat, he spoke again. “How about this? You go one week without commiting a single crime and I’ll make you come.” 

“Why- fuck,” You gasped, squeezing your eyes shut because of a particularly deep thrust. “Why should I believe you?” You said through a breath, making him chuckle. 

“Because I’m not a liar, baby.” To be honest, you didn’t have a reason to not believe him. But you still wanted to come right now, which you made sure he knew. 

“But I don’t wanna come in a week, I wanna come now.” You whined and he didn’t respond. After a moment, you mewled quietly, making him chuckle. 

“Good choice. Oh also, if I have to ruin it right now, you’re not coming next time either.” You mentally begged him to finally come because you were embarrassingly close, even with the lack of stimulation on your clit. 

His thrusts grew more erratic until he let out a low moan and pushed you forward into the wall, keeping you trapped in place as his come filled your hole. You took deep breaths, trying to ignore the way his breath on your neck, the warm come coating your walls, and the twitching of his cock inside you were all adding to your burning need for release. When he pulled out, your knees trembled, but he caught you before you could fall. 

“Good girl.” He whispered against your ear, making you shiver. “Keep being good and you can come with me next time.” You nodded even though it wasn’t a question. “Think you can stand?” He asked softly. Putting your full weight on your shaky legs, you held onto the wall as he hesitantly let you go. 

He dropped to the ground, keeling in front of you, then parted your legs and put his mouth on you before you even realized what was happening. He lapped up his come that was starting to drip onto your thighs, then worked his tongue inside you. Your hands landed on his head and you pulled his hair, making him groan against you. He made his way to your clit, sucking the it into his mouth for only a moment before pulling away. Your hips bucked forward, chasing the pleasure, and he let out a low chuckle.  

“Just a little preview of next time, if you behave.” He smirked. Before you could even think about glaring at him, he was pulling your suit up your body as he stood. He helped your arms into the sleeves, then slowly dragged the zipper up to the base of your neck. 

“Be good. I’ll see you soon.”

[koolades-world]

hello sorry if your requests are closed pls feel free to ignore this if they are :(

i just got this nice idea and wanted to share it and maybe you could do hc idkkkk anywayy !!

so imagine a mc but they're a poc (black, asian, whatever) and they always felt kinda like an outcast in the human world bc they lived in a white neighbourhood and now they're in the devildom and... wow Mammon, Simeon, Mephisto ?! (and maybe Dia and Raphael too cuz they can be mixed or something)

Like I am japanese and I live in europe and in my whole life I've interacted with like 3 or so poc ?? That's sooo little! I would be overjoyed to meet people (demons) that aint white- there is some common experience shared with all poc and i just need that 'bound' with someone lool

Anyway sorry this kinda sounded like a rant by the end but yea! even if you don't do it its ok! Have a nice day and ily !/p ♡

hello!! of course :)

i only moved once when i was younger but both neighborhoods were predominantly white, and i don’t think I’ve ever had a close poc friend that wasn’t an online friend. in middle and elementary i was one of like three or four pocs. high school was better but since I was a magnet kid, i always saw the same people and they were majority white. I’m almost certain I was the only mixed one in that program

bottom line, i can relate haha

enjoy <3

Poc Mc and the poc boys

poc solidarity!

of course the first demon you see is Diavolo, and while you don’t trust him right off the bat because you’ve just been basically abducted for this program, it’s nice to see a poc in charge

since mammon is assigned your caretaker, of course you’re quick to form a friendship

when he learns about your childhood since that comes up at some point, he goes oddly silent and listens carefully when you tell your stories

eventually he himself opens up a little about what it was like in heaven and his experience

gonna break format for a minute, simeon and I would be such good friends, besties even. a writer, very kind, a great baker and cook, a great fashion sense, and he looks like me? omg sign me up we’re twins. there is such a thing as two pretty best friends lol

simeon is so naturally effortless but sweet, so it wasn't hard to become his friend

he's more than happy to help you where ever needed

after you get over the whole kidnapping thing, you become fast friends with dia because he's just so wonderful to be around

and he's more than happy to be your friend because the poor guy doesn't have enough. he'll take you to do all sorts of fun stuff and even if your pictures together end up everywhere online, he doesn't care

you also are a little reluctant to warm up to mephisto because of what lucifer had said about him, but diavolo spoke highly of him, so you spent a couple afternoons with him

and you found yourself very interested in him and the rad newspaper, left wondering why lucifer hated him so much

if you want, you're more than welcome to help out and of course receive credit where credit is due

it was also kind of intimidating to get close to raphael too since he seemed so tough and unapproachable, but he was actually great to have a late night talk with and helped you out with any kind of fashion dilemma

maybe the devildom isn't so bad after all...

[captainmartin20]

If it's true that Napheesa wanted Kate from the start, I don't even know why people are debating her spot in the league. She was chosen by the owner and one of the best players in the WNBA saw something in her. Kate earned her spot on a back-to-back championship team because she's good at basketball, but people are acting like she’s nothing. She played a huge role in IOWA's success, and I’d even say she was as important as Caitlin to that team. Take Kate out of the UConn game, and they don’t advance at all; take her off that team, and they don’t make it to back-to-back NCAA finals. She’s not just Caitlin’s buddy. In the first and only game between the Aces and the Fever where both got playing time, Kate even outscored Caitlin.

let me kiss ur brain, anon. you explained it perfectly.

so let me jut add:

i saw the tweet and i don't think that journalist/analyst would lie about something like that. i think phee knew early on that kate would be a great asset in their new league. the "top 30 players" selling point should've been thrown out the window a few couple announcements ago lol. not sure why people are acting surprised now

aside from being a good player already (thee aces drafted her and she kept her spot on the roster), kate was probably eager to get more minutes anywhere and improve her skills in the offseason. so once the opportunity presented itself (thank you phee), she probably didn't think twice. other players might've already signed to other leagues/might not have wanted to play 3x3 basketball in the offseason...

and lastly, kate has a fanbase that not only exists online (her announcement post literally garnered one of the highest engagement across all platforms. the likes on her post on insta exceeded 24/26 of other announcements), but she also has fans that are willing to travel to watch her play, and buy her jersey (one of the top selling jerseys in her rookie season. no i will not let yall forget about this). these days they could slap kate martin's face or name in something and there will be people out there who will buy it (me).

bottom line is: even if kate isn't in YOUR top 30, she's in phee's and stewie's top 30 :)