#you walk onto my blog and it's just me violently shaking his shoulders like

[fisheito]

@bad-theory say sike right now bro i always wished to be powerful enough to . influence someone's Affection Levels for a Character like that 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

[rafeandonlyrafe]

who did this to you?

words: 1.4k

warnings: parental abuse!, drinking, physical violence, cursing, kind of allusions to sex?? but its pretty vague imo, reader has a bruise and its briefly described

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @winterrrnight @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450

you groan hearing the engine roar behind you, being able to tell exactly whose truck it was from the sound alone. and just like normal, rafe cameron had spectacularly bad timing.

“where you going, princess?” rafe calls out the window, of course pulling to the side of the road when he sees you walking.

“piss off, cameron.” you call, not turning to look at him. “im not in the fucking mood for it today.”

“such dirty words for a princess to be using.” rafe tsks, using the ironic nickname that somehow shifted from pogue princess from when you first moved to town, to now just princess. 

“not that i ever want to see you rafe, but especially not today.” you simply keep walking, hoping that rafe would piss off or get bored and drive away, but he stays rolling slowly along next to you.

“okay, cut it out.” rafe shouts. “it’s starting to get dark, just get in so i can give you a ride home.”

“not going home.” you shrug, finally looking over to rafe.

upon making eye contact, you can see his eyebrows rise, and he immediately slams on the trucks breaks and puts it into park, not caring that he’s stopped in the middle of the road. he gets out of the truck with a harsh slam of his door, his chest heaving as he rounds the bonnet to join you on the sidewalk.

“what happened?” his hand comes to cup your jaw gently, turning your face into the streetlight to give him a better view of the purple bruise forming around your temple. “who did this to you?”

“it’s nothing rafe.” you shove his hand away. “don’t act like you fucking care about me now.”

you try to push past him, continue your walk in the general direction of popes house, hoping his parents wouldn’t mind you crashing there for the night, but rafe stops you with firm hands on both your shoulders. “i may give you shit for being a pogue, but that doesn’t mean i want to see you hurt, princess. now tell me who did this to you. was it jj?”

tears well in your eyes at the very thought of your good friend putting his hands on you, and it just further exemplifies the differences between the kooks and pogues for rafe to not even realize how absurd it is to mention jj. he sees him as violent and dangerous, nothing more.

“no, it wasn’t jj, you dick.”

“then tell me who!” rafe shouts, shaking your shoulders slightly, making you cower back when his voice raises.

“fuck.” rafe sighs out, hands instantly dropping to his sides. “i’m sorry- i’m so sorry princess, i didn’t mean to scare you.”

“stop it.” you plead, letting your tears flow freely down your cheeks, an intense build up from since you started holding them back hours ago. “stop treating me like this, just go back to being a jerk and calling me a dirty pogue.”

“y/n.” rafe states your name firmly, and it almost shocks you. you know he knows it, but he always goes for calling you princess rather than what everyone else calls you. “tell me what happened, please. i do care.”

“it was my dad.” you blurt out. “there? are you fucking happy? that my dad got drunk and threw a fucking beer bottle at me. i was lucky it didn’t break and cut my eye. is that what you wanted to know? my fucking sob story so you can use it against me next time?”

“princess…” rafe sighs, letting you collapse into his chest, no longer able to hold back the sobs racking your body, shoulders shaking at the intensity.

your knees give out, and rafe lowers to the ground with you, effortlessly scooping you onto his lap as your hands grasp at his shirt, keeping your face pressed against his chest, making a mess of snot and tears on the fabric, but you’re far too emotional to care.

“breathe, princess, please. you’re gonna pass out.” rafe strokes over your back, trying to encourage you to get some sort of control on your sobs, but the sweetness of his touch, so counter to what you’ve felt from him before, has you choking on your breath.

“hey-fuck, your lips are turning blue. calm down, please.” rafe says after pulling your head away from his chest once you stopped making noises, your body still shaking with tears pouring down your face.

“fuck.” rafe groans, not knowing what to do to make you relax enough to breath, so he does the only thing he can think of and presses his mouth against yours, moving his lips until you kiss him back, taking a deep breath through your nose as you slide your lips against his, gasping and getting more air in your lungs with he licks his tongue out against your bottom lip, asking for permission.

“rafe, what the fuck?” you ask, but your voice is soft and mumbled, still recovering.

“i needed some way to calm you down.” rafe shrugs, acting far too casual for someone who just made out with you on the side of the road, sat on the sidewalk.

“this doesn’t mean i like you now.” you state, although you are thankful for the kiss, it pulled you very quickly of whatever spiral you were going down.

“of course not.” rafe nods. “even if i was a good kisser.”

“i never said that.” you frown, looking down to realize that you’re still sitting on rafes lap. you stand on shaky legs, annoyed that rafe so effortlessly stands up next to you, like he is completely unaffected.

“come on, you can stay at my house. or i can give you a ride to popes or kiaras. just… i’m not leaving you out here.”

“you can take me to popes.” you say, noting how dark its gotten and really not wanting to walk the rest of the way.

rafe opens the passenger side door, and you climb up into his truck, resisting the word to insult the stupidity of the height, considering rafe did just save you from a panic attack and is now giving you a ride.

“where do you live? is it that blue cottage?” rafe asks once he starts the car and begins the drive, leaving you to recover for a few minutes before questioning you.

“yeah, why?” you question.

“just going to have a chat with your dad.” rafe says, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“rafe-” you turn to him. “please don’t do anything. i can take care of it on my own, i don’t need some kook coming into my business-” “fucking stop with the kooks and pogues!” rafe shouts, not caring that you flinch this time, wanting the words to hurt. “i don’t fucking care about that when it comes to you, why can’t you see that princess?”

“stop the car.” you tell rafe.

“no, i’m taking you to popes.” rafe argues back.

“no, stop the car because i want to fucking kiss you again!” you say, body pressing forward against your seatbelt when rafe quickly presses the brake to the floor. he undoes his seatbelt as you undo yours, meeting in the middle as your lips crash together, and the kiss is anything but soft, an epic meeting of teeth and tongue as you both fight for dominance.

rafe wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in closer until you have to move one leg over his lap to straddle him, letting your bodies mold together as you moan into his mouth, your hands grabbing at his hair, and then gliding down to feel the cords of muscle on his neck, the firmness of his shoulders.

“you drive me fucking wild, princess.” rafe says against your lips, taking your bottom lip into his teeth and giving it a tug.

“i take it back, rafe. take me to your house.” rafe smiles, giving you another quick peck before you separate, but this time you stay in the center seat, rafes hand firmly on your thigh as he speeds towards tanneyhill.

“don’t think this means i’m not going to talk to your dad.” rafe says as he gets closer.

“it’s fine, really.” you say. “he was just drunk, he doesn’t drink very often.”

“princess, he hurt you. you deserve to feel safe in your own home.” rafe explains as he puts the car into park, quickly shutting off the engine. “or i can just kidnap you and keep you here with me. turn you full kook.” he smirks, hands gripping your waist and bringing your lips together.

“never gonna happen, cameron.” you smile against his mouth. “pogue for life.”

[yorshie]

If you're still doing requests, would you be willing to do Raph with 18 as fluff? Something like reader coming to the lair after work and trying to brush off a fever? (Side blog is rye-smiles, recently made. I've only followed for a few weeks but I've always loved TMNT. Your writing is getting me into bayverse for the first time ☺️ I love your style and characterization (of the turtles and the reader))

Hello! Thank you for including your side blog name! Doesn't matter how long you've been in the Trash Pile, we're just happy you're here :)

And YEEESSS another convert! Glad you're getting into bayverse, I'm sorry my writing operates on the assumption you've already seen the movies lol. It is my main jammy jam, but I try not to talk bad about the other iterations, I like all the turtles.

And Alrighty~ Let's get to Big Red (sorry if this feels a bit disjointed i was going for sick reader-not much visual info)

The world wasn't quite spinning sideways when you tipped through the turnstiles and into the Lair, but you definitely counted yourself lucky that a cool grip caught your shoulder before you could spill onto the floor.

A flash of red fluttered beside your face, and you let out a little sigh, comforted that it was Raph who had caught you. His grip was gentle, fingers curling to squeeze lightly when you did nothing more than hang in his grip.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" He asked somewhere above your line of sight, and you nodded stubbornly, not realizing you continued the motion doggedly until his other hand came up to press against your forehead, the little scales on the back of his hand almost smooth against you.

"You sure about that, tiger? Cuz you feel really warm." You leaned into the cool hand pressing against your skin, barely feeling it when he moved to palm the side of your face.

"Alright, clearly out of it then. C'mon." The earth swayed violently, and you were intensely glad there was nothing left in your stomach to protest the movement. Another blink and you were airborne, cradled in a strong grip that gently swayed. Your mind tiredly supplied different parts of the familiar Lair moving slowly past as Raph carried you through the living room and up the stairs leading to personal spaces.

You thought you'd only blinked, but the next thing you were aware of was cold sheets and a blanket being tucked over you, breath painting your face as Raph crouched in front of you.

You tried to shift away into the comforting plush of his blankets, but he tapped you gently on your cheek to get your attention. "Not yet, sweetheart. You gonna puke?" When you tiredly shook your head, he spoke again. "You take any medicine?"

Another shake, and he finally smoothed a hand over your hair, inviting you to snuggle into the silent affection. "Alright, well.... stay here, don't go trying to wander off. I'm gonna go check with Don on some stuff. Be right back."

You did little more than hum to show you'd heard, and maybe understood, before footsteps walking away drifted through your sleepy mind and you snuggled into Raph's bed once more.

In what felt like no time at all, hands were curling around your arms, pulling you upright to lean against the hard edge of a plastron. You grumbled at the treatment, trying to slop back into the blankets and return to their warmth.

Raph snorted, gave his own grumble that rattled across your skin, and your eyes opened blearily just in time to see the cup of reddish pink medicine heading straight for your slack mouth.

Artificial cherries. You must have made some sort of face, because Raph shushed your apparent protest.

"Nu uh, take it all." Your hand came up to hold onto the cup, to control the flow of liquid, and Raph let you do so, only pulling the cup away when it was empty. "Alright, now, drink some water."

You did as he asked, watching him watch you oh so closely, taking in the way he kept his hands out in case you toppled off his side. When you handed the water back and laid down once more, you captured one hand, bringing it lazily up to your face as a substitute for a cold pack.

His chuckle was lost to the undignified snore you let loose, but you felt the slow pet of his thumb over your cheek right before you dropped off.

[novorehere]

Famished First-Time

Hello friends! This is an especially special post that I am very excited about, because the story you’re about to read was not written by myself. A friend who would like to remain anonymous submitted this amazing story to me and wanted me to post it to my blog for you all to enjoy. While they don’t have their own vore blog, I hope you can all enjoy and give them some praise and feedback! Words cannot describe how much I ADORE it, and I think you all will too no matter if you’re familiar with Obey Me or not <3 

Enjoy!

_____________

“Thank you!” Yuki, the lovely young cashier, smiled sweetly as Rayfa plunked down the appropriate amount of Grimm—plus a generous tip—onto the counter. “Come again!”

“You know I will!” Rayfa laughed, and the demon chick behind the counter laughed too. They had become fast friends—what with Rayfa being a proud regular and all—and Yuki knew she’d be back again within the week.

It always started with an unrelated shopping trip. An excursion to buy some nail polish and ribbons for her next sleepover with Asmo. Or perhaps an errand to pick up the newest video game Levi had pre-ordered, for he was too anxious to go out himself. Regardless of where her ventures began, they always ended back at the bakery—where she could purchase a little something for Beel. It hardly cost her anything (mostly because Yuki gave her legendary discounts) and Beel always got so adorably excited when she came home with dessert, so of course Rayfa had made it into a habit. It was such an easy way to put a smile on his face! How could she not?

“I’m already looking forward to it!” Yuki beamed. “See you next week, hun!”

“See you then!”

Rayfa carefully lifted the hefty white cake box into her hands, then began her leisurely walk back to the House of Lamentation, the soft chimes of the bakery’s doorbell twinkling faintly behind her. It was a lovely night outside, pleasantly warm but with the welcome caveat of a gentle breeze. It was the kind of evening that Rayfa liked to spend admiring the beauty of the Devildom, but something about this particular night was making her uneasy. She felt like she was being watched—nay, hunted. Instinctively, she quickened her pace, trying not to think about it. It was surely just her imagination.

Rayfa was maybe two blocks away from salvation—the HoL—when disaster finally struck. Out of nowhere, Rayfa felt burly/muscular arms wrap uncomfortably tightly around her waist. She readied herself to scream, but a freakishly large hand—with claws—clamped down over her mouth. She fought and kicked as violently as she could, but humans were no match for demons, and her attackers callously dragged her into the nearest alleyway.

Once they were far enough back not to be spotted from the sidewalk, Demon #1 forced her up against the wall and spat out an impatient order.

“I’m going to remove my hand now. Scream, and we’ll make things far messier than they need to be. You understand?”

Rayfa, shaking with fear, nodded frantically. Devildom nights were darker than black, and the streets had been relatively barren earlier, anyway. Rayfa doubted that anyone would come running even if she did scream. The clawed hand was removed, and Rayfa gasped for breath. It wasn’t that she couldn’t breathe before; She was just relieved to get that grimy hand away from her face.

“It’s not every day you see a human ’round these parts…” Demon #1 chuckled darkly.

Rayfa spied two more demons over his shoulder. So there were three of these fuckers, then.

Demon #1 stepped forward to grab her chin—to force her to look at him—which Rayfa desperately wanted to resist. Her self-preservation instincts told her to keep quiet though, and frustratedly, she obeyed.

…Until the dirtbag harassing her stepped purposefully on top of the cake box that had fallen from her grasp during the scuffle.

“That was for my friend…!” Rayfa growled angrily, surprising even herself with how upset she had gotten on Beel’s behalf—especially when her own current predicament was so much worse.

“Yeah, well-” Demon #1 scoffed and cruelly kicked the cake box aside. He stepped closer—again—and made a very deliberate show of licking his lips. “Your friend’s not the only one who needs to eat.”

Rayfa went pale. This guy was actually Oberon levels of creepy. (Levi would have been so proud of Rayfa for that SAO reference.)

“Wait! You-! You can’t eat me!” Rayfa squeaked. “I’m, like, the face of the exchange program! You could ruin relations between the three realms forever!”

“Tch. Like we care about that!” Demon #2 mocked boisterously. “We never wanted to make friends with those stuck-up celestials in the first place!”

“And humans, of course, are just snacks!” Demon #1 tacked on gleefully. “Who gives a fuck if Diavolo’s little exchange program falls through?”

Rayfa gritted her teeth. She wanted to argue more, but they had clearly already made up their minds. She was so royally screwed.

Demon #3, who had been relatively silent throughout the whole exchange, suddenly stepped closer. He was easily the largest of the three degenerate demons; Rayfa had to tilt her head almost all the way back just to meet his eyes. Intimidating. Demon #3 stared her down with the ferocity of a lion. Then he began to speak—quietly yet gruffly—the words foreign and unrecognizable. Suddenly, realization dawned on her. He was reciting a hex.

But by the time Rayfa realized, it was already too late. Her body shrank rapidly and she dizzily watched the world around her grow larger and larger and larger—until finally, she was left untouched at 2-3 inches tall. Things were not looking good for her. But! At such a small size, they couldn’t possibly clamp a hand down over her mouth again! Right?

Desperately, Rayfa began to recite the one phrase she prayed could get her out of this mess:

“Hear me, denizens of the darkness, you who are born of shadow and you who give birth to it! Hear me and do as I command!”

“Stop her!” Demon #1 roared furiously, and Demon #3 (the nearest) made a desperate grab for her. Rayfa just barely managed to scramble out of the way before he could get his grubby hands on her, silently cursing the fact that the summoning incantation was so ungodly long. Nevertheless, she was determined to see it through.

“I, Rayfa, call upon you to send forth one of your number! I summon the Avatar of- HnghGruh!”

Though he had failed to grab her, Demon #3 was still determined to shut her up. He backhanded her—hard—which was enough to garble her words and send her flying backwards across the pavement. Rayfa winced at the scrapes she received. They were gonna hurt like a bitch tomorrow, assuming she lived to see it.

Interrupted as she may have been, though, the spell—blessedly—had still gone through. There was a blinding flash of golden light, and then there, standing before her, was none other than…

Mammon, the Avatar of Greed.

Huh.

Rayfa had (admittedly) been hoping for Lucifer, but whatever panicked sound she’d made upon being swatted away had apparently sounded more like the word greed than the word pride. Honestly though, Rayfa was just relieved to see a familiar face.

…As endearingly incompetent as that familiar face could sometimes be.

Mammon stumbled around dazedly for a moment, and Rayfa felt guilty knowing that her poor casting of the spell was likely to blame. Quickly, she shook her head to clear her mind. Guilt could come later; Right now was her chance to escape!

Even though Mammon had not immediately chased off the three depraved demons, his unexpected appearance alone was more than enough of a distraction for Rayfa to work with. At the very least, she no longer felt quite as cornered as before. Demon #1, Demon #2, and Demon #3 were focused entirely on Mammon now, and that gave her the perfect opportunity to disappear. A full-sized demon was a much greater threat than a tiny human girl, after all! Rayfa instantly began scheming. Maybe she could subtly sneak away now, text Lucifer or Satan to come pick her up, and apologize to Mammon for using him as an escape later. He would fake like he was annoyed by it, she was sure, but there was no way these demons would actually be able to hurt him—not like they would hurt her—and Mammon would recognize that too. He’d just be relieved that he’d protected her, even if unknowingly at first.

Rayfa was just about to make her move, ready to dart out of the shady alleyway, but right before she took the first step, dark blue eyes swirled with gold locked onto her.

“Rayfa?!” Mammon spluttered out with confusion, as the last of the vertigo from her botched summoning spell finally wore off.

It took a good few seconds for Mammon to realize exactly what was happening, but eventually things did click for him, and the Avatar of Greed whirled on the lesser demons indignantly. Unfortunately for him, Demon #1 and his lackeys had finally recovered from the shock of their surprise visitor and were eager to make him pay.

“Oh shit!” Mammon swore, lightning-fast reflexes kicking into gear as he ducked to avoid a punch.

Demon #2 quickly lunged after him, but Mammon—surprisingly tactfully—sidestepped that, too. Levi really hadn’t been kidding when he’d said that Mammon was “Fast as fuck, boi!” Seriously! He moved so quickly that Rayfa could scarcely make out a blur! Mammon deftly avoided several more attacks, then glanced around with wild eyes, searching for an out. When he found one—as he always did—his body moved before his brain could catch up. Rayfa supposed she shouldn’t hold his recklessness against him though. It was what she was currently banking on to save her life.

When Mammon finally threw a punch of his own, the attack was surprisingly calculated. His fist connected squarely with the jaw of the head honcho—Demon #1—and Mammon capitalized on that fact. All he had needed was an opening, which he’d succeeded in creating for himself when Demon #1 had stumbled backwards from the force of the blow. He quickly darted past the now capsized enemy, taking advantage of the clever little “escape route” that was open. And then…

Mammon just fucking ran for it, gravel flying as he skidded past the remaining two lackeys and began sprinting directly towards poor terrified Rayfa. He didn’t slow down as he neared her. In fact, Rayfa swore he sped up! She squeezed her eyes shut as Mammon barreled forward at breakneck speeds, leaning down at just the right moment to scoop her up as he careened away from the alley. Rayfa let out a squeak of alarm as she felt Mammon’s fingers curl around her, but she relaxed somewhat when she realized that he had actually taken great care to hold her securely (but not so tightly that she’d be uncomfortably squeezed).

And then, just like that, they were gone.

Rayfa hadn’t expected anything less from him. If there was one thing Mammon was great at, it was running away. (Usually from debt collectors or angry brothers, but the logic applied here too.)

“Oh shit! Oh fuck!” Mammon panicked, footsteps pounding heavily on the sidewalk. “I really don’t wanna die!”

Despite herself, Rayfa felt a smile playing on her lips. Even when Mammon actually managed to pull off something pretty damn cool, he was still an endearingly panicky mess. But Rayfa wouldn’t have him any other way.

A few tense minutes of running later, Mammon veered off into another alleyway further down the street, panting heavily. Quick as he was, he obviously didn’t have the stamina to go on running forever. He needed a breather, but Rayfa didn’t think they could afford to take one.

The demon muttered something frustratedly under his breath. Rayfa couldn’t quite catch the words, but she could only imagine he was cursing out their pursuers. Which was totally understandable—they very much deserved it—but what Rayfa couldn’t understand was why he had stopped to do so. Tired or not, they had to get home!

“Mammon?” Rayfa questioned nervously, gently prying his fingers apart to sneak a worried peek up at the demon. He held her level with his heart, hands cupped carefully around her, blue-gold eyes gazing down upon her worriedly. Had they not been dangerously preoccupied, Rayfa would’ve melted at how concerned he looked over her.

“I’m not gonna let ‘em have ya,” Mammon growled protectively. “You’re my human, ya hear?”

Mammon had always been relatively exceedingly protective of her, but Rayfa had never really minded. She thought the whole “keep you all to myself” thing was sweet, even, albeit in a very Mammon sort of way. But something about the way he was staring at her now…

For the first time since they’d met, Rayfa felt inherently nervous under the Avatar of Greed’s gaze.

“Uhhh, are you-” Rayfa started to say, but the demon’s hands suddenly lurched beneath her, causing her to yelp with surprise rather than finish her thought. “Aaa!”

Mammon determinedly brought her to eye-level, an uncharacteristically serious expression etched across handsome features.

“What are you doing?!” Rayfa nervously demanded, the demon’s sudden solemnity eating away at her. Mammon was never sober like this. To make matters worse, Rayfa could hear the angry shouts of the demons they’d run away from. Those fuckers were finally starting to catch up.

It seemed that Mammon had heard them too, their voices being what finally spurred him on to do the unthinkable.

“S-Sorry ‘bout this!”

Mammon rarely ever apologized, which only solidified Rayfa’s right to fear whatever was coming. She had a really really really bad feeling about this.

Mammon, looking just as nervous as Rayfa felt, awkwardly guided the brave little human towards his lips. He gulped nervously, then opened wide with an automatic “ahhh”, and realization came crashing down onto the girl like a tidal wave. Rayfa screamed and tried to scramble backwards, but Mammon quickly threw his head back and fervently crammed her in.

It was almost absurd how quickly the demon’s mouth flooded with drool. Rayfa whined with disgust as warm gooey saliva oozed over her, bubbling up and seeping through her clothes. Mammon cautiously brought his teeth back together, sealing her away inside, then began eagerly slurping down her staple human flavors. Rayfa felt herself blush, angry and embarrassed that Mammon was spending such an exorbitant amount of time tasting her.

“Mammon!” Rayfa seethed, practically shaking with rage. “What the fuck!”

She was exhausted and disgruntled and grossed out, but begrudgingly, she decided to put up with whatever episode Mammon was having right now because she trusted him. For all she knew, demon spit could reverse hexes cast on humans or something! Right, yeah. Mammon probably had a plan. She just needed to play along and-

*Glk!*

Mammon gulped thickly, and Rayfa suddenly felt the clench of tight/squishy muscle around her as she was sucked down into the boy’s throat. She squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath, being worked deeper and deeper with every purposeful swallow. Mammon had been quick to stuff her into his mouth, but now that she was safely out of sight, Rayfa noticed, he was taking his sweet time getting her down. Slow, languid gulps. Pleasured hums vibrating around her. Fingers gingerly pressed against the throat, presumably to feel her fight back as he swallowed. Rayfa grimaced as she slowly squelched down his greedy gullet, squirming violently as the unyielding flesh easily suctioned her down.

“Stop enjoying this…!” Rayfa growled disgustedly. “Bastard…!”

Within the minute, Mammon finished swallowing her down, letting out a relieved and breathy sigh. Rayfa, meanwhile, gasped out as the tight, hot, unyielding throat finally gave way to a much roomier space. Fleshy and vulnerable, the squishy pink walls shifted easily around her as Rayfa scrambled to reorient herself. A noisy gurgle stretched on, echoing around the darkness. She had finally reached his stomach.

“…hububhhuhuhh…” Mammon babbled through what sounded like a very drooly mouthful.

“Mammon! Are you kidding me right now?!” Rayfa screamed, raging annoyance briefly overtaking her fear.

“…tha’ feelsh…” Mammon moaned out. “…so fuckin’ guhd…”

Rayfa shuddered at how the stomach lurched as Mammon stumbled almost-drunkenly backwards, then slumped against the grimy brick walls, slowly sliding down and lowering himself to the ground.

“Urghhh!” Rayfa groaned, utterly exasperated. “You! Are! The! Absolute! Worst!”

Every word was punctuated with an annoyed punch to the stomach walls. She only really succeeded in getting her fist all sticky/slimy with stomach ooze though; Manmon appeared entirely unaffected.

Rayfa surely would have chewed him out even more had she not been interrupted by a sickeningly familiar voice. Even though she was tucked away out of sight, she still shivered just hearing it. They had finally caught up.

“What did you do with the girl?!” Demon #1 demanded furiously.

“I, uh…” Mammon slurred. He had barely even begun to answer when his digestive system suddenly did the work for him, a deep and contented burp rolling up his throat. “Mrph. ‘Scuse me.”

It didn’t take much for Demon #1 and his lackeys to put two and two together after that.

“Bastard! She was supposed to be my lunch!” Demon #1 roared. “Get him!”

Rayfa hated that her heart leapt at the thought of Mammon getting caught up in trouble. Especially on her behalf. She was supposed to be angry at him—he had fucking eaten her—but much to her annoyance and embarrassment, she couldn’t shake the worry from her heart. She’d grown to care too much.

“Mammon, please! Get it together!” Rayfa urged, cursing herself for encouraging the man who had gulped her down like nothing more than an afternoon snack. But she couldn’t just sit idly by!

Mammon stayed seated, but Rayfa felt the stomach shift as he at least sat up straight. She felt a sudden surge of power flow through and around her, too. And when Mammon next spoke, his voice was unrecognizable.

“BaCK oFF,” Mammon snarled like a rabid dog, sounding like an actual demon for the first time since Rayfa had met him. “Or I’LL eaT yOU foR desSERT!”

Rayfa was pretty sure that Mammon only had a hankering for humans—not for other demons—but the threat worked all the same. Mammon almost never lost control, which made the few times he actually did downright terrifying. Rayfa could only imagine the looks of horror on her attackers’ faces as they trembled at the sight of the second son’s true form.

“Shit! I didn’t realize he was one of the seven Avatars-!”

“Okay, okay! You can keep the human! Just-!” An honest-to-god whimper. “Please don’t hurt us!”

“Quick! Let’s get out of here!”

Noises from the “outside world” (with the exception of voices) had proven too muffled to hear from within the confines of the demon boy’s gut, but Rayfa imagined that if she had been out there with him, she would’ve heard a stampede of receding footsteps. Her suspicions were further supported when she felt the energy needed to maintain his true form slowly fade away. Mammon let out a thoroughly contented puff of breath and relaxed back against the wall again, too. Demon form now totally dispelled. And then, in a move Rayfa never would’ve expected, Mammon began rubbing his belly appreciatively—she could feel the gentle weight on the other side of the “wall”. For a hopeful but fleeting moment, Rayfa almost believed he cared. But no! He had eaten her!

Rayfa tried desperately to work out why Mammon had done this. Had he decided that, if she was going to end up “demon food” anyway, it may as well be his belly she was filling? A memory from long ago suddenly sprung to the forefront of her mind:

“The next time your life’s in danger, I’m gonna be the one to save you, all right? Don’t you forget that.”

“…And if I can’t manage to save ya, then make sure you die, got it?!”

Rayfa felt tears prickling at her eyes. So that was it then. Mammon had decided that if he couldn’t protect her, the least he could do was take her out himself.

Rayfa shuddered as the stomach gurgled loudly. It’d been relentlessly noisy—groaning and churning around her—for the entire duration of her “stay”. She felt drowned out, unsure whether or not Mammon could even hear her, but Rayfa had never been the type to give up.

“Mammon! They- They’re gone now, right? So then let me out!”

“…fiyve mr…minuhhs…” Mammon mumbled out, words slurred and utterly unintelligible.

Rayfa groaned.

Why are you like this?

Praying that Mammon could hear her—she still wasn’t totally sure her words would reach him from down there—Rayfa did the only thing she could think left to do. She called upon the power of the pact.

“MAMMON!!!” Rayfa roared at the top of her lungs, fingers crossed that he could actually hear her so that the pact would work. “SPIT! ME! OUT!”

Rayfa guessed her words must’ve gotten through to him, because just like that, the demon’s body began to obey. The stomach lurched, and Mammon began making throaty/guttural choking noises like he was dry-heaving. Rayfa felt herself being tugged back towards the esophagus—This was her way out!—but the gagging sounds poor Mammon was making were rapidly becoming unbearable. Rayfa was genuinely beginning to worry that she’d accidentally commanded him to choke himself.

“Hrrk, rggh, hrghk-!”

“Okay, okay! Stop! Don’t hurt yourself!”

Rayfa cursed her own lack of resolve. She was going to die here now. As nothing more than “demon food”—like Mammon always teased. All because she couldn’t bring herself to hurt the lovable dumbass who’d eaten her.

Her surroundings shook turbulently for another few seconds as coughs wracked Mammon’s body. He wasn’t choking anymore, thank god, but he was very clearly gasping for breath. Rayfa felt terribly guilty for putting him through that. When Mammon had finally cleared his throat, he muttered out an unabashedly annoyed:

“Ya know, it’d be a lot easier on the botha us if ya lemme cough you up myself.”

“You-!” Rayfa brightened at finally being addressed, tears of relief blurring her vision. “You were really going to let me out?”

“Well, duh.” Mammon shrugged, and Rayfa slid as the walls shifted around her. “If I wanted ya dead, I woulda let those lesser demons have ya.”

“But-! But you-!”

“Didn’t ya hear the protection spell?” Mammon grumbled, clearing his throat again. Apparently, some lingering discomfort remained. Rayfa winced sympathetically. She really hadn’t meant to hurt him. “I cast one on ya right before I swallowed ya down.”

Ah. So that’s what he had been doing when she saw him “cursing out” the demons chasing them. Apparently, that flustered muttering had been a protection spell.

“Okay, fine! But why didn’t you answer me?!” Rayfa demanded shakily. “I was seriously freaking out, Mammon!”

“I, uh…” And the regret was practically tangible. He sounded immeasurably guilty. “’M sorry.” He finally settled on. “I didn’t mean to get buzzed like that.”

Yeah, Rayfa had figured that much out. She didn’t say so, though. Instead, she stayed patiently quiet, giving him room to elaborate.

“Humans really are a delicacy for us, ya know? And havin’ one alive and kickin’ in my belly…” Mammon mumbled embarrassedly. “…kinda fried my brain.”

Yeah, that checked out. Rayfa hummed in acknowledgement.

“Didn’t mean to give ya a heart attack though…” Mammon continued after a beat. “I really am sorry ‘bout that, Rayfa.”

He sounded so beyond apologetic that Rayfa couldn’t help but want to reach out to him. In moments like these—rare as they were—Rayfa would usually give him a hug. But obviously, that couldn’t quite be done…

Almost reflexively, Rayfa reached out with both hands, palms splayed against the squishy stomach walls. She gave a reassuring little shove—like a playful nudge to the shoulder—then slowly began rubbing soothing little circles into the flesh. Mammon shivered with delight at her touch; Rayfa could feel the stomach tremble with pleasure. Despite herself, she let out a little laugh.

“That good, huh?” Rayfa teased. The playful banter almost made her feel like they were chilling out on the couch together. Almost made her forget where she really was.

“Sh-Shaddup!”

Rayfa just knew he was blushing like crazy.

“I guess I should probably thank you for saving me,” Rayfa sighed wistfully. “Albeit through very unconventional means.”

Mammon huffed proudly. “You’re welcome! You should know by now never to doubt the Great Mammon!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Rayfa waved away the egotistical comment. “Can the ‘Great Mammon’ cough me up already? It’s super gross down here.”

“Uh.” Mammon froze, and Rayfa could feel the stomach tense up nervously around her. “Just lemme getcha back to the dorms first. You’ve got a penchant for trouble and I don’t wantcha runnin’ into any more of it.”

Excuse me?! You think I’m the one with the penchant for trouble?!

It took Rayfa a moment to realize that Mammon didn’t actually think her a trouble-magnet. He just wanted an excuse to hold onto her for a little longer. Because he was enjoying it.

Rayfa sighed heavily. She knew she was going to regret this: “Yeah, okay. But you’d better let me out the second we get home.”

“Yeah, ‘course! Sure thing.”

Rayfa laughed and shook her head. Now that Mammon had gotten a taste, Rayfa had the distinct feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time she found herself playing the role of “dinner”.

But curiously enough, Rayfa also found that maybe she didn’t totally mind. ❤️

[grapementos]

redamancy

(v.) the act of loving someone in return.

a/n: the final part of the cheating triology.

kirishima and midoriya’s part.

bakugo x gn reader

warnings: cheating, panic attack (kinda), suggestive, crying

pro-hero dynamight didn't have the best rep with the press, if his exhausted pr team was anything to go by. seldom were there headlines about him without outburst or, the media's favorite little play on words, explosive following suit.

then, suddenly, his brash behavior had stopped. it was so abrupt that no one even noticed at first.

once they did, the questions came flooding in. many of them were speculations of anger management classes or something of that nature. in the end, they were all denied until the big question came:

'are you in a relationship?'

it was confirmed, and the crowd went wild. within days there were tabloids of 'pro-hero dynamight's secret lover: who could it be?'

it was innocent at first; just plain curiosity about a public figure.

but then it got deeper. talk shows got psychologists to give professional insight as to how a relationship with someone like dynamight would be.

as expected, it wasn't positive. and soon enough, everyone on the internet was bashing dynamight for being dangerous or violent, specifically towards his lover, whom they knew nothing about.

you'd rub the tension out of his shoulders at the end of the day, reminding him that he was good, no matter what the media had to say. they didn't know him like you did.

your comfort and reassurance usually calmed him down and left him grumbling, "i didn't even care anyways."

so he took the criticism. and he took the bashing, the false speculation—and he kept moving forward.

that is, until someone thought it'd be fun to make a 'top ten pro-heroes who'd cheat' blog post that went absolutely viral. it reached every corner of the internet, even getting mentioned in the news as outraged heroes demanded the website be removed.

the number one spot, the one bakugo had yearned for, was his.

but not in the way he wanted.

being ranked most likely to cheat did a number on his behavior, both in public and private. he was more distant and less explosive, which somehow spurred the press on more.

they concluded that he cleaned up his act because the blog was right and he wanted to create a better image for himself. that wasn't true at all—he was just tired.

so tired, in fact, that he proved the rumors right.

denki was draped over your couch, watching some game show on tv when you found out. the two of you had planned to hang out for a bit and watch a movie at the cinema, but nothing good was showing, so you ultimately decided to head back to your place.

your shared place. with bakugo.

you assumed it was one of his late nights since he wasn't home, so you started cooking dinner, making small talk with denki.

"so you can go swimming, then?" you quirked a brow, poking your head into the living room.

"yeah, just as long as i don't activate my quirk, you know?" denki opened his mouth to explain further, but the front door messily slammed open, beating him to it.

and there he was. bakugo katsuki.

with someone else in his arms, his face nearly being eaten as they pushed back and forth against each other.

everything stopped the moment he made eye contact with you. the kissing stopped, your brain stopped—it even felt like the tv was muted.

even worse was that his eyes held no remorse. just a little surprise, like finding your old charger after buying a new one.

"thought you were hanging out with dunce face," his voice was gruff, low and sultry as his gazed burned into you with... impatience?

"katsuki, what're you.." you mumbled out, brain still trying to process the sight before you, "why're you.."

"didn't think you'd be back already." he shrugged, gaze shifting back to the person he was with. and only then did his brows relax, lips tugging up into a smile. "now, if you'll excuse us.."

he tried to walk past you, but you shoved his chest, "what the hell are you doing?" you nearly screamed, eyes red and burning with tears.

"haven't you heard the rumors, y/n? i'm a cheater. you don't need to be with someone like me."

you saw the flash of hurt in his eyes, but even that couldn't overpower the utter devastation pooling all the way from your chest to your toes. oh, it hurt.

"kami," you whispered desperately once they were gone—in the room that you used to sleep in—head starting to swim, "kami, help me, please."

you didn't even know what you wanted him to help you with. you just wanted everything to stop.

he rushed to your side, finally snapping out of his shocked daze. his arms were around you in an instant, chin on top of your head, "you're okay, y/n, i'm here. it's okay."

you were shaking and sobbing into his shirt, grip tight on his unzipped jacket.

"it hurts. oh god, it hurts. kami, make it stop, please." you shuddered, and everything was suddenly too loud.

he held you tightly, letting you cry for what felt like hours.

and then he got you out of there.

BONUS:

the healing process was long and still incomplete. some days you still felt so empty, only able to complete the bare necessities to get through your day, but denki was by your side when he could be.

you'd since moved out of your shared home with bakugo and into a place of your own, which was a difficult adjustment. but with denki calling you twice a day—literally—you didn't have a chance to be lonely.

most nights he spent at your house, claiming it was because he loved your cooking.

you weren't dumb; denki flirted with you all the time. he was truly unashamed every time he greeted you with a 'hey, hottie', and bid you goodbye with a 'love you, sweetcheeks'.

it made you cringe, but it was denki, so you had to love him.

after a year of being closer than ever, he’d asked you on a date numerous times, receiving a playful 'no, you know i'm not ready for that.'

but, one time was special. one time was heartfelt and so genuine that you shed real tears. denki laid his heart bare for you, every ounce of emotions spilling out of him and onto your shirt.

"i know you're not ready, y/n, but i love you so much. i'll wait for you, i swear it!"

and after all those no's, you finally said yes.

i like to think that bakugo did it for you. obviously this wasn’t the right way to go about it, but he just.. kind of got so tired of being accused of something terrible. he became the monster they swore he was. and you got caught in the crossfire. also i bolded dynamight instead of bakugo because i feel like this focuses on that part of his persona. his hero-self got too wrapped up in the media. also! kirishima was originally gonna be the new lover, but i feel like it’d be too similar to the other bakugo one i wrote.

reblogs are appreciated.

[imaginedisish]

She’s My Collar (Robert Pattinson x Reader)

A/N: I am so so sorry for the long wait guys! This was a really tough week for me! I hope you’re all doing well, and I really hope you guys enjoy this!! Someone requested some blonde Robert smut, and so here it is! Enjoy ahhh!!! (also, y/f/n is your friend’s name)

P.S, this story marks 100,000 words written for this blog...that’s all :))

Summary: You and Rob are friends with benefits, but after saving you on a horrendous night out with your friend, you find that your relationship means more than just that. 

Warnings: So, this is serious, but there is some sexual harassment/assault in here. It’s brief and not graphic or anything like that, but I wanted to write the scene in to demonstrate how fucked up it is, regardless of the setting and regardless of what someone is wearing, as well as how important awareness is. No means no, thank you!

Other warnings: Smut!!!!! Smut smut smut!! Cursing, stuff like that, brief violence/mention of blood.

Word Count: 4,203

“Oh come on, what do you mean you aren’t going to come?” Your friend shouts from the other side of the room, waving her mascara wand around violently. She points the wand towards you. “You told me you were going to come, no matter what.” Her voice is accusatory and she gives you a look. 

A look you knew far too well. 

She disappears into the bathroom to continue getting ready. You let yourself fall back onto the olive green leather couch behind you. Your head gently hits the wall and you glance up to the ceiling in an attempt to evade your friend’s question. She already knows why you aren’t joining her on her clubbing escapades this evening, but you don’t want to admit it. 

A deep breath escapes your lips and you shake your head. “No reason in particular,” You utter quietly, hoping she can’t hear you over the music playing in the background. You look down at your phone, waiting for a ding or a text from the man you were waiting to hear from. 

If I could take her down and run, then I'd call her

'Cause she's standing drama, she know I'll call her

She's getting on the sun and then she ordered

Imagine me, imagine me now (she's my collar)

“No reason, huh?” She yells over the music. “Perfect, then you can keep your promise.”

You roll your eyes and look up from the screen. “No reason that you need to know,” You yell back, pushing yourself up off the couch. “And I don’t recall promising you anything,” You say sardonically as you walk towards the bed on the other side of the room. You grab the short, blue dress you had brought with you just in case you were going to join her off of the covers. 

Your friend pops out of the bathroom just as you start heading towards the bedroom door. “Oh come on! This just isn’t fair.” She’s very clearly annoyed, and she should be. 

You were planning on ditching her the second Rob texted you that he wanted to hang out.

About a year ago, you had met Rob after your set at Glastonbury. You and your band got off stage and he was there, waiting for you. 

“That was amazing!” He shouts over the crowd still roaring behind you. He places a hand on your shoulder. Your heart flutters in your chest. “Really, you’re incredible.” He lets go, but the warmth of his touch lingers on your exposed skin.

You blush a bit. “Thank you so much,” You say, smiling widely. You had obviously met other celebrities before. After all, you had won a grammy, played hundreds of concerts, and yet, something about this felt different. 

Rob smiles back, chuckling lightly.“I can’t help but feel a little star struck right now, with (Y/N) (Y/L/N) standing in front of me,” He jokes, nudging your right arm with his elbow ever so slightly. 

“The feeling is mutual,” You say shyly. You genuinely were a bit star struck, despite having just played the closing set at Glastonbury. 

He shouts something again, but you can barely make out what he’s saying. You grab his arm and pull him into the small dressing room directly next to you. The sound of the crowd dissipates a bit, and Rob begins to speak again. 

“So how long are you in England for?” Rob asks. You look down and realize you hadn’t let go of his arm yet. You quickly pull away as heat rises to your cheeks.

“We’ll be here for the next week,” You start. “Tomorrow night we’re leaving for London to play the O2.” 

Rob nods, his smile not leaving his face. “Well then, if you’re staying in the Somerset area tonight, maybe we could go grab drinks or something?” Your heart beats rapidly out of your chest. 

“Th-that sounds great,” You stutter, embarrassed that you could barely get a sentence out. 

Ever since then, you and Rob had been seeing each other casually. There wasn’t a label or anything like that, but that wasn’t a problem for you. He was exciting, if not intoxicating, to be around. You were addicted to him. Even the semblance of a “Maybe we could see each other tonight,” was enough to drive you mad. You would cancel plans at the drop of a hat for him because you simply couldn’t get enough, and that was the exact predicament you had found yourself in tonight. 

You had been staring at your phone the entire time you were at your friend’s apartment, and intended on bailing on her the second Rob texted you to come over to his place. 

But he hadn’t yet, and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Your mind often wandered in times like these. You couldn’t help but think that maybe he was with someone else. What if you weren’t the only one he was running with?

“Earth to (Y/N)!” Your friend yelled, dragging you out of your thoughts and into the real world. The annoyed look on her face sent you walking into the bathroom. You changed into the dress you had brought and pushed your hair behind your ears. The spaghetti strap, black lace lined, blue dress was short and fell to the middle of your thighs. You found yourself wondering about what Rob would do if he saw you in the dress, but you quickly shake off the idea and walk back out into the bedroom. 

You roll your eyes as your friend claps at your entrance. “Are you happy now?” You ask, frustrated that this was your current situation. 

“I’m beyond happy,” Your friend remarks cockily. “Are you ready to get wasted, or what?” Her voice is excited, but you could’t feel the same. 

“I guess,” You respond, letting her lead the way to the door and out of the apartment. After several flights of stairs, you find yourself out on the streets of London. A black taxi cab is ready and stopped directly in front of you. 

Your friend opens the door and heads inside the cab as you follow closely behind her, closing the door as you finally sit down. 

“So where are we going?” You ask, hoping it’ll be somewhere low-key. You were happy the paparazzi hadn’t caught a glimpse of you leaving the apartment, and so far, you were free and clear of any fans. It was a nice change of pace, especially given that you were off doing something you weren’t the biggest fan of. You didn’t love clubbing

Your friend lets out a slightly evil chuckle. “Ministry of Sound,” She says simply, waiting for your outrage. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You say angrily. “Fucking Ministry of Sound? Do you want me to die?” Anxiety grew heavy in your stomach. You despised large crowds, especially without a security detail. You would have to work hard to go unnoticed, and it would probably be impossible to do so.

Your friend looks over to you with a certain lack of empathy in her stare. “Hey, this is completely fair,” Your friend says, rolling her eyes nonchalantly. “It’s payback for trying to blow me off to go see Rob,” She says, her eyes leaving yours as they look out the window casually, as if what she had done was not a big deal to you.

“No, it’s not fair,” You state aggressively, but she doesn’t respond.

You look down at your phone and notice a new notification.

Rob

1 New Message

You immediately unlock your phone. 

“Are you busy tonight?” The message reads. Your heart flutters in your chest, the same way that it did when you had first met Rob.

Shit, You think to yourself. You look over to your friend and back down to your phone. You swallow the massive lump in your throat as your thumbs rapidly press against the bottom of the screen. 

“Sort of…” You type and hit send. 

Rob starts to type right away. He was usually quite good at responding quickly. 

“Does that mean it’s something I can tag along to?” Rob asks. You were surprised, but pleasantly surprised at that. You and Rob were trying to keep things under wraps. Neither of you were sure how the public would react to you two essentially being friends with benefits, so this was quite the shock. 

Regardless, you can’t help but smirk. “Why, would you go to Ministry of Sound just to save me from the evil clutches of (Y/F/N)?”

Within a few seconds, Rob sends another message. “Clubbing?” A few more seconds pass before he sends his next message, as if he’s trying to asses how ‘risky’ the text is. 

“Are you trying to replace me?”

You knew he was joking, but you couldn’t help but wonder if there was some real jealousy there. So you type, “Come and maybe I won’t,” and press send. 

“On my way.” 

Your feel your cheeks flush with heat as you drop your phone into your lap. 

After a few more minutes, you finally pull up to the club. Your friend hands the driver the cash for the trip, and you hop out on opposite sides of the cab. 

A long line of young, skimpily dressed, bright eyed Londoners wraps around the entire building and down the street. You and your friend walk closer to the door of the club and much to your dismay, you’re instantly recognized. 

Cameras begin to flash violently in your face as voices scream your name. You bypass the line as the bouncer lets you and your friend in without a single question, without any proof of ID. 

The second you enter, the bass of the song that’s playing rattles your bones. The strobe lights pulse against your skin and you can feel the warmth of the crowded room fill your body. But it wasn’t a comfortable warmth, it was a sweaty, anxious kind. The kind that made you want to turn around and run for the door. Your friend immediately grabs your wrist and runs out to the dance floor, roughly pushing through the crowd to get closer to the front. 

As your friend finally arrives at the spot she was hoping for, the song fades out. 

“Shit, I love that song,” She curses.

The next song starts. An ever so familiar marimba chimes through the club and a small smile makes its way to your lips. 

There’s an army on the dance floor, 

It’s a fashion with a gun my love,

In a room without a door

A kiss is not enough. 

“Love my way!” You sing out, shaking your hips side to side with your friend. “It’s a new road!” You feel your anxieties melt away as you sing the chorus, jumping up and down excitedly. 

“See, it just takes the right song to get you in the mood,” You friend retorts. You roll your eyes, refusing to tell her she’s right. 

She locks eyes with a woman a few feet away, and the two gravitate towards each other. Before you know it, your friend disappears, dancing off with the woman and into the crowd. This happened every time you went out with her, and you hated it. You were happy your friend was having a good time, but you hated being left alone. You take a deep breath and continue to dance, hoping that you can hold your own. The second verse of the song plays loudly, the words bouncing off the walls of the club. 

A tall, brown haired-man approaches you, dancing and brushing up against you lightly. 

“N-no thanks, I’m waiting for someone,” You say, stepping back a bit. He steps behind you, and seemingly disappears.

Just when you think he’s gone, you feel something brush up behind you. You turn your head and see that it’s the same man from before. 

“I said no,” You say louder and more powerfully this time. The man grabs your waist and pulls you closer. You try to pull away, but he doesn’t let go. “Fuck off dude, let go of me!” You shout. The music is too loud for anyone to hear you. 

“Love, when you wear something like that, you’re asking for it,” He says condescendingly, as if you’re some child who doesn’t understand the world just yet. You try to elbow him in the stomach, but the way he’s holding you doesn’t allow you to move very much. 

“Fucking let go of me!” You shout louder this time. But he doesn’t move. 

Suddenly, you hear a yelp, and the man crashes to the floor. The crowd parts, leaving an opening for the man. Gaped mouths and frozen dancers line the sides of the club. 

“She said to fucking let go mate, so maybe you should’ve fucking let go!” A familiar voice shouts commandingly. 

It was Rob. His fist was bloody, but the man on the floor’s face was bloodier. iPhone cameras begin flickering sporadically. Rob instinctively grabs your wrist and leads you to the door of the club. You rush out to the street, and Rob hails a cab. You hop in as Rob rattles off his address to the driver, and suddenly you’re on your way.  

Everything had moved so quickly that the two of you had forgotten to say a single word to each other. 

“Are you alright?” Rob asks, his hand was still wrapped around your wrist. He moves his fingers down to intertwine with your own.

You nod your head. “Y-yeah, I just hate clubs…” You trail off, looking out the window to see the city streets. You had coincidentally moved to London around the same time you had met Rob. You still had an apartment in New York to be able to go back to the states whenever you wanted, but there was something more interesting and beautiful about London to you.  

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Rob asks again, his thumb brushing lightly against the back of your hand. 

“I’m good now,” You say more confidently this time. “Thank you for showing up,” You smile, giggling a little. 

Rob smiles back. “Anything for you, darling,” He says softly, his hand squeezing yours lightly. He seemed to be more shaken up about the whole situation than you were. Unfortunately, this wasn’t new for you. Men were fucking scumbags at clubs, and you always mentally prepared yourself for the worst case scenario. 

The cab slowly rolls to a stop, and Rob opens up his door. He hands some cash to the driver while being sure to keep his hand in yours, and leads the way out of the cab. You two walk side by side up the steps to the door of Rob’s townhouse. He unlocks the door and you two head inside. 

Rob sets the keys down on the side table and steps closer towards you. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into his chest. 

“I’m always here for you, you know that right?” Rob whispers. He had been this sentimental before; it wasn’t like your relationship was solely based on sex, but it still felt special to hear him say those words. 

You let your head rest against him. You mumble a yes into his chest and shut your eyes. You feel safe, protected. You want to say more. You want to say much, much more. But you know you can’t. You don’t want to overwhelm your relationship with Rob with the “L” word, so you decide to keep quiet. 

You take your head off of Rob’s chest and bring your lips up to his, pressing a light kiss against them. Rob kisses back hungrily. The kiss grows more intense, more passionate. He brings one hand off of your waist and up to the nape of your neck. He combs his fingers through your hair, and you hum against his lips in response. Your clit accidentally rubs against Rob’s thigh at the perfect angle, and you feel yourself starting to want more. You brush up against him, searching for some more friction. 

Rob breaks the kiss and stares at you with a concerned look in his eyes. “Wait,” He says breathlessly. “Are you sure you’re okay to do this right now?” He asks. 

You smile at his concern. “I’m fine, I promise. I wouldn’t have started this if I didn’t want it,” You say back. 

Rob nods and presses a languid kiss against your lips. He brings his hands back to where they were before, one tangled in your hair and the other resting on the small of your back. You bring your hands up to his hair too, pulling on the blondish strands as moans find their way out of his mouth.

He slips his hand out of your hair and down your body, gliding down your sides and down to the bottom of your dress. He grabs onto the inside of your thigh, causing you to spread your legs a part for him

“Good girl,” He whispers in your ear, “Spreading your legs without me even asking you to.” He lifts your tight dress up, revealing your black panties. He begins to rub you up and down through the thin fabric, stopping finally at your clit. He lightly draws circles around your heat as a moan escapes your lips. 

“R-rob,” You stutter, unable to say anything else. He adds more pressure, and begins to circle at a quicker pace. 

His lips find their way to your neck, and he sucks at your exposed skin. He moves your panties to the side and his fingers immediately go back to work. 

“F-fuck,” You mutter as Rob quickens his pace yet again.  

Rob takes his fingers away from your clit, and his lips disconnect from your neck. You whimper at the loss of contact, and Rob grins in response. 

“You didn’t think you’d get what you want that easily, did you?” Rob asserts, grabbing your wrist and leading you up the stairs to the second floor of his flat. 

He bursts through his bedroom door and shuts it behind you, pushing you against it the second it closes. His lips immediately attach to your neck again, leaving rough kisses against your skin. His fingers toy at the bottom of your dress, slowly but surely lifting the fabric up. He moves his focus to the sides of your panties, pulling down slightly on them, teasing you. 

“P-please R-rob,” You whisper, barely able to get a word out between your heavy breaths. 

“Please what?” Rob questions. “Tell me what you want, darling,” He commands. 

“T-touch me, please,” You manage to get out. 

Rob chuckles, and gets down on his knees. “Good girl, telling me what you want,” He says, looking up at you as he hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties and pulls them down, throwing them to across the room once they’re off of you. 

His fingers find their way back to your core as he stands back up, and he begins to tease you. 

“You’re so wet for me,” Rob says. His voice is smooth yet commanding. He pushes your back against the door again as his fingers dance around your entrance. “Is this what you want?” He asks. 

You take a deep breath. “Yes,” You say back. 

Rob takes his fingers away and before you could complain, grabs your wrist yet again, bringing you over to the bed. He gently nudges you and you let yourself fall back onto the covers as he crawls on top of you. 

“Yes what?”

“Y-yes please.”

Rob presses a kiss to your lips and inserts his two middle digits into you, causing you to cry out in response. You feel your walls flutter around his fingers as his thumb circles your clit. His fingers pump in and out of you quickly, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. 

Your back arches up off of the mattress as Rob’s pace quickens. He adds more pressure against your clit, swirling around faster and faster. You shut your eyes, not realizing that Rob had begun moving down your body. 

His fingers leave your clit, and are suddenly replaced by his lips. 

“Holy shit,” You cry out as his tongue flicks against your clit. His fingers continue to pump in and out of you. 

He sucks at your core, taking you into his mouth. “You taste so good,” Rob mumbles against you, the vibrations of his words pulsing against your heat.

Your walls tighten around his fingers as you feel yourself growing closer to finishing. 

“Rob I’m s-so close,” You say, his fingers hitting your G-spot and moving faster than they were before. “Sh-shit.” Rob doesn’t stop, despite how close he knows you are. 

“Hold on for me, darling. I’m not done with you yet,” He says, taking his lips away from your clit, and removing his fingers from you. You shut your eyes groan at the emptiness. When you open your eyes again, you see Rob undoing his belt and pulling down his black trousers. He discards them to the side and begins to unbutton his white shirt. 

Within a few seconds, he’s shirtless, with only his boxers left on, standing in front of you. He finally slips the boxers off, revealing his hardened member. He crawls back on top of you and pins your hands against your head. He lets go and grabs the bottom of your dress, pulling it over your head and throwing it across the room. 

Rob’s tongue darts out and licks his lips, taking you in. “Arch your back for me darling,” Rob demands, and you do as he says. He unclasps your strapless bra with one hand, tossing it to the side, and brings his other down to your clit. 

“More, please,” You beg. 

Rob smirks, and without warning fills you up completely. He pumps in and out of you quickly, rubbing your clit at the same time. 

“Sh-shit,” Rob stutters, “You feel amazing.” His breathing his heavy. “You’re so tight.” His words alone could send you over the edge. 

You can feel yourself getting closer. The build up from before had almost made you come, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could last. 

Rob lets out a list of profanities before his lips come crashing down onto yours. He bites your lower lip lightly as his rhythm picks up. 

“I-I’m so close,” You cry out. 

“You’re taking me so well, (Y/N), just hold on a bit longer for me, darling,” Robert whispers through labored breaths. “I-I’m close too.” 

Rob’s pressure on your clit becomes heavier, and he speeds up. He pushes far into you, filling you up entirely, hitting you G-spot. You can feel yourself starting to unravel around him. His pace somehow speeds up even more, and you know he’s almost there. 

He takes a deep breath and parts his lips. “Fuck,” He curses. “Come with me darling,” He manages to get out. 

You suddenly feel a great release, seeing stars, as your walls tighten around him. You finally let yourself come undone. “Holy shit,” You cry out, and Rob comes with you. 

His pace slows as your walls flutter around him a few more times. He pulls out and crashes down next to you on your right side. His arm wraps around you, pulling you onto your side and into his chest.

You laid there for a few minutes in silence, Rob peppering your exposed skin with light kisses. It’s calm and quiet. The world meant nothing. The club, your friend, the incident, life, it was all nothing when you were with Rob. It was just you and him. 

“R-Rob,” You say, finally breaking the silence. 

Rob smiles and kisses your forehead before responding. “Yes darling?”

“Are you,” You pause, suddenly hating yourself for starting to ask this question, but you knew you had to follow through, “Seeing anyone else? It’s fine if you are. I mean, I’m not and I haven’t been, but if you are it’s really okay I’m just-,”

You’re cut off as Rob’s lips crash against yours hungrily. He pulls apart from you and smiles. 

“No, it’s just you, and it’s just been you since we started, well, this,” Rob confesses rather matter-of-factly. 

You smile back at him, but his face changes. His smile disappears, and he seems more nervous. 

“You’re the only one I think about,” Rob says. “I really like you, (Y/N),” But he shakes his head, as if those weren’t the right words. "It’s more than that, to be honest,” He says finally. 

“It’s more than that for me too,” You say back, and the smile reappears on his face. 

Rob swallows harshly. “So then, we’re more than just, friends,” Rob starts, his fore finger drawing circles on your shoulder “We’re dating. Is that alright with you?”

You smile widens. “That’s more than alright with me.” 

She's the one I'm running with

She's the one I'm running with

She's the one I'm running with

She's my collar

Oh, she's my collar

Tags: @mellifluous-cosmos​

[santigarcia]

bring you in cold

a din djarin x reader fic~

word count: 1.3k

rating: T

summary: You fall in the ice and Din has to keep you warm with his body heat ;) 

a/n: I WROTE THIS BEFORE EP 10 and when i watched it i was like O.o . this is just some softness, i might do a smutty part two 

bring you in cold

Black. It’s black, swirling nothingness. You’ve fallen deep in the ice. The only light you can see is through the crack where you fell, but it shrinks as you sink. The shock of the frigid temperatures goes straight to your lungs, you swallow too much water. Your limbs too cold to help you swim.

It all happened so fast.

The Mandalorian was chasing a bounty. You’d stepped outside the Razor Crest for one moment to get some air. It was too cold for your taste, the snow crunching under your feet. The Child was asleep, you deemed it safe to leave the ship for a moment to breathe despite the cold.

That’s when the sprinting bounty brushes past you and shoves you onto the ice. Your tumble cracks the thin ice and that’s when you’re plunged into the icy depths.

Mando has two options; leave the bounty or rescue you. But he’s quick on the draw. He shoots the bounty and dives for you. His metal armor is too heavy to swim, and you’re not far from the shoreline. He lays on the snowy shore and reaches into the hole. When you feel his hand, you do your best to grab on. Your frigid fingers are weak. He squeezes a little too tight for comfort, but he saves your life and pulls you out of the icy waters.

He smacks your back until you cough up the water. The oxygen filling your lungs is sweet, but it burns.

The wind is biting and unforgiving against your soaking wet skin and clothes. You’re shaking violently. When he sees you struggle to take a step, a gentle but firm arm wraps around you. He walks with you slowly. Normally you’d have swooned to be so close to him, to have your secret crush touching you. You feel the hard Beskar digging into your skin where he holds you too tight. You don’t even feel the chill from it, you’re too cold.

You suppose the only good thing is he won’t notice whether your tremble is from the cold or his embrace.

“We have to get you warm,” he says, his modulated voice is so close to your ear.

When you’re inside the Crest, he turns to leave for one moment to get his bounty. Already the warmer temperatures in the ship have you feeling less cold, but it’s not enough.

You stand in the Crest shivering, waiting for him to get back. You see the snow swirling outside the open door.

When he walks up with bounty dragging behind him, the hatch doors closing is a relief. The warmth grows.

He gets the bounty squared away, then he comes to you.

“M-m-mando,” you shiver, your teeth clattering. “W-what do-o we-e d-do?”

“We need to get your wet clothes off,” he states. He says it so simply, but you feel a tight pang in your chest. Is that just more aches from the cold? Or are you panicking about being seen naked by him?

He’s very still, he knows this isn’t the ideal scenario.

Your fingers are too cold to unfasten your clothes. You both know he has to do it.

He kneels first and begins to unlace your boots. He’s gentle when he grasps your calves to help you out of the soaked boots. He tilts his head up at your asking for permission while his hands hover at your waist. Seeing him like this sends a thrill down your spine, you shudder visibly and nod.

You swear you see a tremor in his hands when he starts to push your pants down your hips. Maybe his hands are cold too, after all they got wet when he stuck his arm in to pull you out. That’s it, it has to be. Right?

He looks down at your feet when he pulls your underwear down with your pants. Your shirt and jacket are long, touching your thighs. You’re not fully exposed yet but you feel it.

He sighs when he stands, you can feel the tension in the air. He doesn’t like doing this to you.

Your jacket comes next, he pushes it off your shoulders. You try to help him untie the fastenings on your shirt, but your fingers shake.

“Let me,” he almost whispers. You’re mortified, he knows it. He remains gentle. You see that shake again in his hands when he unties your shirt. He has to peel it off you, the material stuck to your skin.

You can’t watch him remove the last piece that’ll have you fully naked in front of him. So, you look at the Beskar helmet in front of your eyes. You feel every brush of his fingers on your skin. You don’t miss how he’s trying not to look at you, while also trying to remove you of your clothes.

When you’re completely naked, his head is tilted up at your face. He’s remained calm, doing what needs to be done to get you warm. You tremble still.

“Blankets,” he says suddenly.  He turns sharply on his heel too quickly and he hits the edge of a doorway with his helmet. It echoes in the small space with a loud clang. You stifle a giggle, and when he looks at you this time you think there must be a smile under the helmet. There’s less tension in the air.

“We can’t warm you too quickly, you’ll go into shock,” he tells you when he comes back with the blankets. He hands you one to wrap around yourself, while he moves around you to dry you off as best, he can.

“Thank you,” you tell him. “You saved my life.”

His helmet tilts up towards your face for a beat. A pause. Then he moves back to drying you off.

“I’ll use my body heat to help warm you.”

There’s no jest in his tone, this wasn’t some scheme to get you naked and in his arms. You know he wouldn’t do that.

So, you nod. Then he nods in the direction of his cot. When you lie down, the lights shut off. It’s completely dark. You can’t even see your hand in front of your face.

“Mando?”

“Din,” he says, his voice is nearby – and clearer. He’s removed his helmet and he’s removing his armor. You can hear him shift around in the dark, the metal clanks against the floor as he sets down each piece.

You hear him step closer to the cot and your heart jumps when you feel the weight shift. He lies down beside you, and you jolt. He’s wearing pants, but not a shirt. His skin is so warm it burns, and you snuggle closer to him. His strong arms wrap tightly around you, and you can feel his breath against your forehead. His chin brushes against your face, the bristles of his facial hair tickle.

“Din?” your voice is timid. There’s only a slight tremor now, but you’re still cold. “My fingers hurt.”

He reaches for your hands, and it dawns on you then that you’re feeling his bare hands for the first time. He holds your hands between his, and he blows between his hands. The hot air brushing over your icy fingers.

He rubs his hands over yours until some warmth returns. His hands move all over your body, rubbing to get the warmth back. His hands shake now, and you know why. You can feel his heart thunder under your ear.

You tell yourself he’s just anxious to get you warm, but that’s not it. You know deep inside it’s because the way you feel in his arms is something he’s wanted. You’re naked and he’s flustered.

“This isn’t how I hoped this would happen,” you giggle out, you figure the ice has been broken enough you can say it.

Another pause.

“Me either,” he whispers.

For the second time today, you feel a shock to your body while surrounded by darkness. And for the second time today, Din Djarin pulls you out.

xxxxx

tagging: @agentpike, @arabellathorne, @autumnleaves1991-blog, @avanoelle07, @bisexual-space-slut, @blancatobarxoxo, @bucky-j-barnes, @coaaster, @cosmicmando, @velvetmel0n, @dindisneydjarin, @djarinsbxbyy, @eternallyvenus, @feelmyroarrrr, @ghosttofcalum, @giselatropicana, @goldhoran, @himbopoes, @huliabitch, @ironman-iam, @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa, @javihoney​, @jubileetion​, @kenedyybrooklin​, @knittingqueen13​, @limenlimon​, @literatureandqueen​, @maciiiofficial​, @magicsuperheroes​, @mandofucks​, @mandoplease​, @marvel-dameron​, @melanietrancy​, @millllenniawrites​, @mitchi-c​, @mylifeliterally​, @ntlmundy​, @okay-hotshot​, @paintballkid711​, @pajamasecrets​, @pascalplease​, @pascalz​, @perropascal​, @phoenixhalliwell​, @poeticandors​, @punkpascal​, @rewritingstarrs​, @saved-fanfiction​, @sgtbookybarnes​, @shadow-assassin-blix​, @stanningtoomanypeopleatonce​, @stardust-galaxies​, @stormluv16​, @the-bird-suit​, @thehippiequilter​, @thepjofanqueen​, @this-cat-is-dea​, @tintinwrites​, @trashbin2​, @triggerhappyflygirl​, @waatermelon-sugaar​, @wakalas​, @xremember-me-notx​, @chicken-ona-stick​, @thesoftdumbass​, @writefightandflightclub​

[petite-ely]

Afraid // JJ Maybank

Seven- Mommy Issues

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem routledge! reader

Warnings: mommy issues, mother abandonment, anger, maybe some mistakes, tell me if I missed anything

Description: y/n has always wanted answers about her mother, but the truth seems more harsh than what she had in mind.

A/n : hello, hello friends. Sorry for not updating sooner. I had absolutely no inspiration, lol. Anyways, hope you enjoyyyy! :) (also I know the gif is terrible quality but I really wanted to put this clip and I couldn’t find any cleaner option to make a gif)

Previously

Afraid Masterlist

Song recommendation

Gif made by me!

As a child, y/n never realized how her family was different than the others. A lot of kids on the cut had single parents, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Her mom had left when she was only three, to go pursue her dream job in Colorado. It wasn’t a bad thing in the girl’s eyes. It didn’t feel like she was missing out on anything.

As she blossomed into adolescence, y/n finally understood how unconventional her family was. She heard the other girls at her school talk about their mothers. About the cakes they made or the precious moments they spent together. Mother-daughter bonding moments. She had to admit it she felt jealous. Or maybe was it envious?

She had lived all her life without a mother to kiss her scraped knees or braid her hair before going to sleep. And she would have given anything to experience it, even for one single night.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love her brother or her father, far from it, she adored them. They were both so precious to her. Still, she felt as if something was missing from her. Or more like someone.

She didn’t remember her mother, she was so young at the time, but she cherished the stories her father had told her. She fed her imagination on these stories. Making up fake memories where her mother was still there. In her heart it was all real. Reality was bitter compared to the sweet comfort of her imagination.

By the time she was 12, she’d heard the famous story enough to know it by heart, each word of the letter engraved into her head. She begged her father again and again. She wanted more stories, even the smallest anecdotes, she wanted to hear them all. Anything to improve the sketch, constantly redrawn, of the woman she didn’t remember. The woman she couldn’t really call a mother.

She knew the story by heart and yet it felt incomplete. She’d heard enough fairytales and read enough books to know when a story was complete. This one wasn’t.

And she was right.

A week after the twins’s 13th birthday, their dad gathered them around the kitchen table. He wanted to talk. It was very important. Y/n had to admit, this was quite strange, as her father was never the one to bring up important issues. In front of him was placed an envelope, yellowed with the years.

The girl knew this envelope all too well. Every scratch, every little bump, she could almost feel them on the tip of her fingers. It was her mother’s letter. This time, when he pulled out the folded pages, a third paper came out. The missing part.

Big John didn’t say anything, only slid the pearl white sheet to the twins. And though no words came out of his mouth, a million could be seen in his gaze. He wore an unfamiliar expression on his face. It was mix of sadness, fear and regrets. It was the expression of a man who only wanted to protect his children from being hurt.

The missing paper read as so:

“This is my dream, John.

And I know you might think there’s a way for us to fix this, but there isn’t. This time you can’t fix it.

When I got pregnant with the kids, I was so scared. And when I told you, I saw this glimmer in your eyes. This flame suddenly being lit inside of you. You were so excited to have your first child and it was twins! You seemed so happy. It was beautiful.

Then I thought that maybe we could do this, maybe I could be a mother. I had you, so everything would be fine. My friends kept talking about this amazing connection that felt with their babies when they were carrying them. But I never felt it with the twins.

And I thought that maybe once I held them in my arms I would finally feel it. That motherly connection. It never came. And I tried, John. I tried so hard. But I just can’t.

I do love them, I love them so much, but not the way you do. Not the way a parent loves their child It can’t do it, I’m sorry. I wasn’t meant to be a mother. Life is cruel that way sometimes.

If there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that you were meant for this. I can see it in the way you look at them. You can do this, John. I know.

Be the parent I will never be able to be.”

Y/n’s curious eyes scanned the paper excitedly. Her face showed a variety of emotions in the span of a few minutes. First, excitement and joy, then, confusion and finally, anger. The tip of her ears burned red, her hand shaking beneath the table.

John B. placed the paper on the table, a loud sigh escaping his lips. Though, compared to his sister, he seemed relatively calm.

Y/n couldn’t contain it anymore. She stormed out of the house, her feet shoeless and her shoulders bare. She had no idea where she was going, but she ran.

It didn’t matter. As long as she was going somewhere. As long as she was moving and running, then she wouldn’t have to think. And if she was thinking, then her mind would take her to a bad place. She didn’t want to go there. So she ran.

The Routledges were never reputed to be angry people, much less violent. They were generally very calm, maybe a bit arrogant, but always composed. Of course, when a Routledge was after something, they would do anything in order to obtain it.

But y/n was one of the exception. She was the first Routledge woman in nearly 150 years. For generations, every Routledge man had sons, who had sons, who had sons until her father. He had a son and a daughter.

She wasn’t an angry person or mean in any way. On the contrary, she was kind and gentle. But compared to her brother and her dad, she felt emotions deeply.

And maybe it was her mother’s side and not the Routledge in her. It was so intense, sometimes. Almost blinding, at some moments. It was like the emotions took over her. It didn’t happen very often but it felt like she didn’t control her body anymore.

When she finally came back to her senses, y/n was standing on an empty beach. She hadn’t realized how far she’d gotten until she felt the warm sand under her feet. A cold breeze wrapped itself around her shoulders. She was so far from home. And so alone.

She walked to the ocean, letting her toes dip gently into the water. The water was cold but calming. Her anger slowly disappeared with each breath she took, until finally she could see everything clearly again.

Y/n turned away. She thought of going back home, when a wave of emotions hit her. She fell to the ground. It was like the air had been sucked out of her lungs.

Her chest burned, she felt like she had swallowed fire. Her shoulders shook and loud sobs escaped her lips. She dug her hands into the sand, trying to ground herself. It didn’t stop her tears from crashing onto her shirt.

A shadow appeared in front of her and she recognized its shape in a matter of seconds. It could only be one person.

“Are you hear to laugh at me?” She said through tears.

“No, not this time,” said John B. He sat down beside her, his eyes looking into hers. “Oh, y/n.” He wiped the tears off of her face

“I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “It’s just that, that,” he placed his arm around her shoulder, she took a deep breath. “Part of me always thought that she would come back.”

“That she’d come stay with us and finally be our mom. But she’s never coming back, ever,” her tone was almost accusing. “I lost so much time making up scenarios for her and she doesn’t even love us.”

“You know that’s not true,” reasoned John.

“Yeah, but it feels like it.”

“We don’t need her anyway,” stated the boy. “We’ve got dad, surfing, plenty of fish and well, each other. It’s not that bad is it?”

“No, you’re right.” She looked at him. “I just feel like I’m missing out on something. Like I’m,” she paused, looking for the right word, “incomplete.”

“I get it. If the roles were reversed and dad wasn’t there, I guess I would feel that way too,” confided her brother. “But don’t give her this much power. She doesn’t get to make you feel this way. You’re whole on your own, y/n/n.”

“Thank you, bird.” She slid her arm around his shoulder, letting her head rest on top of it. “You know, you can be an amazing brother sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“Hey, bird?” “Yeah?”

“How did you find me, anyway?”

“You always come here when you wanna be dramatic.”

“I do not!”

“You so do!”

And slowly, the imaginary memories fell apart and disappeared. Y/n didn’t need them anymore. She’d be better in the real world.

Taglist

@kaelyn-lobrutto24 @poguestyle17 @im-a-stranger-thing @lasnaro @thoughtsofthestars @briandaflores19 @lunaposey @allycat449-blog @ifilwtmfc @kitty084 @coloradogirl07 @ponyboys-sunsets @chaoticbisous @p0gue420 @sloaneemily @babygal-babygal @itsagurl @mendesmaybank

If you wanna be added or removed or if I forgot you, tell me and it’ll be modified!

[undisputed-bucky]

Dean Drabble!

NFSW MINORS DNI

Summary: Dean almost loses you on a mission and lets you know exactly how that makes him feel.

WARNINGS: SMUT SMUT SMUT, oral(m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex(wrap it before you tap it my lovelies), GUN KINK(reader has a gun pointed to her head most of this fic) . IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH GUNS OR ANY TYPE OF GUN PLAY DO NOT PROCEED.

Word Count: 1.6k ish

A/N: I have to thank @bucky-daddy for the ideas and inspiration for this! It was supposed to be just a little Drabble but it turned into a full one shot!! Again thank you @bucky-daddy for letting me scream about ideas while I wrote this! I hope you guys like it! I always appreciate likes, re blogs and comments! My requests are open as well!! Send me an ask or message and I’ll be happy to discuss ideas! Also I wrote this on my phone so I can’t add a page break so PLEASE BE AWARE OF THE WARNING I'VE PUT IN THE DESCRIPTION OF THIS PIECE. ILL SAY IT AGAIN⚠️VIOLENT AND EXTREME THEMES ALONG WITH SMUT⚠️

The hunt wasn’t supposed to go wrong. You weren’t supposed to get captured. Almost every part of the plan you and Dean had gone over went wrong. So so wrong. The nest wasn’t supposed to know you were coming for them. You weren’t supposed to leave Dean’s side.

And now because of that you were tied to a chair, with a teenage werewolf desperately trying to finish the knot on your right leg. Shit shit shit, you thought. The last time you had seen Dean he was fighting off one werewolf. As you looked around the room you noticed at least five just in this room. You prayed he was safe. You knew Dean could hold his own but the amount of werewolves that could be here? That sets you on edge.

Just as the thought presents itself in your mind, you hear a crash and multiple gunshots. The werewolves all looked towards the door, the familiar growl of the Winchester brother echoing through the walls. You smirked.

“Come at me motherfuckers!” He yells as he kicks through the door. Dean raises his gun and takes out two within five seconds. You growl as you kick out with your right leg, the knot having never been finished.

“Dean!” You shout as you nod your head towards the wolf that had tied you up. He shoots with extreme precision and the silver bullet meets its target, the werewolves brain.

Dean promptly takes care of the two other werewolves in the room.

You breathe a sigh of relief as you watch Dean pant, his shoulders heaving with every breath. “Man, I really got scared there! Thanks for the help Dean, you’re a great hunter” You say, wiggling against the ropes in the chair. “Why don’t you uhh help me with these ropes, Deano?”

“What did I tell you, Y/N?” You hear Dean growl as he turns around. As you look up into his eyes, the darkness there makes your skin prickle. And not exactly in a bad way.

“You told me not to leave your side, I know Dean but I thought I had it! I didn’t kn-“

“SHUT UP” You're cut off by Dean’s yelling. You suddenly look up to see him storming towards you. His hulking figure soon looms over yours, the rage practically radiating off of him.

“You left my side after I specifically told you not too. You directly disobeyed my orders!” He starts, voice so low it was almost a growl. “You put yourself in Danger!” He yells, his hand raises and he presses the barrel of his gun into your temple. “I ALMOST LOST YOU, Y/N! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

You splutter as you look into his eyes, the emotions there a mystery to you. What wasn't a mystery was the pool of moisture collecting in your panties. You'd always been quite attracted to Dean but this ragey, scary Dean? He made you weak!

Dean's gun drifts down slightly as his expression softens slightly, “What would I do without you, Y/N?” He says, anger still virulent in his eyes.

You decide to come back to that question later, suddenly wanting to press the rage inside him more. You smirk and stick your tongue out, swirling your tongue around the silver barrel. You watch Deans pupils dilate as you draw the barrel into your mouth, sucking gently.

“You think this is a game, Y/N?” Dean growls, his mouth twisting into a sneer. He chuckles, a dark dry sound as his hand moves to his belt buckle. He dexterously undoes the buckle and moves on his jeans. “Guess what? You lost” He suddenly removes the gun from your mouth, placing it back on your temple. “You disobeyed me and for that you’re gonna be punished” He speaks as he pulls his briefs down, revealing his hard cock.

Your mouth falls open, eyes widening as you imagine wrapping your mouth around it. The wet patch in your panties grows as you look at the massive member. You always suspected he was big but this? Unprecedented.

“Brat sees something she likes huh?” He chuckles as he moves closer, his cock right in front of your face. He presses the gun harder against your temple, his other hand slapping his cock against your face. You gasp and he takes the opportunity to thrust roughly into your mouth.

You moan around his impressive length and he groans. “Such a fucking brat, not so mouthy with your trap stuffed full of cock huh?” He growls, his hips pistoning against your lips. You choke and gag as his tip smacks the back of your throat forcefully with each thrust of his hips. You Do your best to breathe through your nose as you take every inch of his cock.

“Fuck, Y/N. Sucking me so good. Knew that mouth was good for something other than being a smart ass” He growls, hips stuttering slightly. Drool and spittle falls down your chin as tears spring to your eyes. Every thrust to your throat had you walls clenching around nothing, cunt desperate for the cock currently in your mouth.

Dean's groans become more desperate and he stops, roughly pulling from your mouth with a wet plop. “No no no. M’saving my cum for your cunt. Wanted this for too long not to fill you” He says.

“Please Dean! Untie me so I can show you how much I’ve wanted it to!” You beg, wiggling against the restraints.

He chuckles as he bends down to untie your leg, smirking. You look back at your hands, expecting him to move to them next. When he doesn’t you look at him, “Dean, m-my hands babe” you say, laughing nervously. He suddenly moves behind you, roughly kicking the Chair out from beneath you. It plants you on the floor with your hands laid out above you. “D-Dean please!”

Dean just laughs as he starts to pull your pants down, groaning appreciatively. Your legs spread for him, exposing your drenched cunt. He raises his gun, dragging the tip of the barrel through your drenched folds. You gasp and arch against the touch. He pulls the gun away and chuckles, slowly lifting it to your mouth in a silent order to suck. You open your mouth to taste your own juices around the gun. You moan at the taste as Dean suddenly presses himself against your entrance.

“What a dirty little whore you are! Just begging to be fucked at gunpoint aren’t you? So wet for me and my gun huh?” He asks, dragging the tip of his cock through your folds as he places the gun back to your temple.

“Yes Sir! Please! Fuck me at gunpoint and take what you want!” You shout, hips bucking to gain more friction. You watch as his lips turn up in a smirk. He uses his other hand to roughly hold your hips down, keeping you still as he slowly sheathes himself inside you.

“Fuck!” You cry out at his length filling you. He’s so huge you can swear you feel him in your belly, stretching you out. Your voice refuses to work when he slowly drags himself out, only to slam back against that spongy spot inside of you.

As his pace increases, he growls out, “Fuck Y/N so tight! Made to take my cock weren’t you?”

“Yes! Oh god yes!” You cry, the coil inside you beginning to wind and wind with every thrust to that spot he found so quickly.

Dean presses the gun into your skin, a bruising pressure as he growls, “Yes what?”

“Yes sir!” You scream, your walls beginning to flutter and squeeze around his cock. “Oh fuck!”

He groans as his pace falters, moving a hand to your clit. He rubs fast, tight circles as he leans down to your ear, “Gonna cum on my cock? Gonna soak me with my gun pointed to your head?” He whispers.

“Yes sir! Please let me cum!” You beg, legs beginning to shake. The coil was ready to burst but you wouldn’t dare cum without his permission.

“Cum! Cum for me like the desperate slut you are” He growls as he cock swells. Your vision goes white as the coil snaps, walls clamping down around Dean. Your mouth falls open in a wordless scream as he finishes, the feeling of his spend bursting against your cervix extending your orgasm farther. Your hips buck and shake as he thrusts out both of your highs.

Dean pants as he slowly pulls his softening cock from your leaking hole. He grunts as he watches your mixed juices leak onto the floor, walls still spasming from the earth shattering climax you just experienced. He throws his gun to the side and tenderly unties your hands, bringing them to his mouth to kiss the tender flesh there. He wraps your arms around his neck as he pulls you against him.

“I really don’t know what I would do without you, Y/N. You’re so important to me. Not only me but Sammy.” He leans down and leaves a tender kiss against your lips. You can visibly see the love and adoration in his eyes as he speaks, “I-I love you, Y/N. I’ve known for so long but couldn’t admit it till now. I-just the thought of losing you- I couldn’t bear it. Was I too rough? Did I hurt you?” His eyes full with concern as he start to look over the rest of your body.

“No y-you didnt. That was- that was amazing” You breath, tears welling in your eyes at his admission. “I love you too Dean. I think I have for a while now” You smile and kiss him again.

Dean's eyes suddenly darken again as he take your face in his hands, making sure your looking directly at him. “If you ever disobey me like that again I swear Y/N, you won’t walk for a week. And you won’t go on a hunt for a month”

He growls before crashing his lips to yours in a bruising kiss.

“Yes sir” You gasp out, enjoying the grin that comes to his face.

Tags: @writtingrose

[isthisthingeven0n]

you’re still here : s.r

spencer watched you die in his arms, believing you were gone forever. but when he learns the truth that you’re alive in london, he can’t help but wonder why you’ve hidden away for so long. (2.4k)

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(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING

Salem, Oregon

“No, no, no Y/n, please,” Spencer pleads as he holds you close, his arms wrapped around you as your body becomes weaker by the passing second. “please don’t go,” His cries intensify as his arms shake, watching as your eyes begin to close. “no, please.”

“I’m sorry,” You manage to whisper as tears fall from Spencer’s eyes, the last sight you ever saw as your eyes closed, and your head fell back.

“No,” Spencer mutters, shaking you lightly. “no, you can’t be, no!” His cries turn to yells as Morgan approaches him slowly, resting his hand on Spencer’s shoulder as it shakes violently.

“Reid,” Morgan sighs, afraid to look down and see you lifeless in Spencer’s arms. “it’s over, I, I’m sorry.”

Looking over his shoulder, the rest of the team with solemn faces walk over and shield around Spencer whilst the police take care of Jason Lodgings; your murderer.

“Come on, Spence,” JJ speaks softly as she kneels beside Spencer as tears fill her eyes.

“I’m not leaving her.” Spencer states firmly, still not letting you go from his embrace.

“Reid,” Hotch calls out, his voice firm as he stands tall, watching as Lodgings walks away in handcuffs, glancing down with sorrow at the blood oozing from your cream jumper, dripping onto the wooden floorboards. “we have to go.” Hotch tells the team as they slowly rise to their feet, not wanting to start an argument with their superior.

Closing his eyes, Spencer releases a shaky breath as he gently lowers you to the ground. He pushes your hair out from your face and brushes his fingers across your cheek for the last time.

“Goodbye, Y/n.” Spencer whispers to you as he stands up and turns around, ignoring JJ’s open arms and walks out.

*

London, England - Two years later

It was always going to catch up with you, this life was a mere facade for your sake to have a sense of normality, but normality was never something you wanted.

Nearly two years had passed by since they last saw you. You hadn’t seen Garcia flirting with Morgan, heard JJ talk about Henry with such joy or avoided the stern looks Hotch shot over when you joked with Rossi and Emily for two years. But the one thing you’ve missed more than anything was seeing Spencer smile. You missed everything about Spencer, but seeing his smile brought a sense of indescribable joy.

This was never going to last forever, and you knew that coming into the situation. Hotch and Emily helped you figure out what to do, where to go in order to keep you safe. But keeping you safe meant everyone believing you were dead in the eyes of Jason Lodgings and his team, otherwise, they’d kill your team, your family off one by one just to get to you.

Having experienced the trauma from Emily’s ‘death’ you knew this wasn’t going to be easy on the team. You were lying in Spencer’s arms, close to death as you heard him cry for you. Every part of your body screamed to react, to tell him you’d see him again soon. If only you could have, just to provide him with some sense of relief in the long term. Yet if you did, it would’ve ruined the entire plan.

Wandering through Hyde Park, you knew he was close by. Maybe he had seen you already and was too afraid to believe it. The last time you spoke to anyone you knew was a year ago in Paris with Emily.

* Paris, France - One year Ago *

“How are they all?” You question as she sits down opposite you, files in hand as she places them on the table.

“They’re healing,” She answers, sliding the files across as you grab your bag, putting them inside without any hesitation. “it’ll get easier, but they’ll always miss you.” Emily sighs knowingly. “That contains everything you’ll need to get to London and set up a life there. But please, don’t trust anyone easily, Y/n.” She warns you as you nod.

Rising to your feet, you shrug your bag back onto your shoulder as you look down to one of your oldest friends for the last time. “Thank you, Emily.” You smile to her, wishing you could say more.

“Stay safe, okay?” She tells you, unable to form more words as thousands hover behind her lips. “I’ll be in touch soon.”

With a nod, you turn on your heels and walk down the street, not daring to look back as you’ve got to carry on.

*

Exhaling deeply, you bury your hands further into your coat pockets. Autumn was approaching as the Summer nights came to an end. You can’t help but kick through the piles of leaves that line the pathways as children giggle with their parents behind you.

“Did you know after June 21st, the Summer Solstice the sun’s direct rays will begin to shift southward from the Tropic of Cancer toward Earth’s equator?” You can’t help but tense as you hear his voice, filled with pain behind you. “As a result, the summer days become shorter, but that isn’t noticeable for a few weeks until late August when we near Fall.”

With a heavy heart, you begin to turn around and face the one person you owe the most to.

Your eyes remain locked on his feet, an old pair of sneakers lined with dried mud. Slowly, you raise your gaze past his trousers and toward the knitted sweatshirt vest, one you remember vividly even after all this time. As your eyes reach his shoulders, you can see his hair is long again and you can’t help but want to reach out and run your fingers through it like you once did.

“Hi,” You breathe out, unable to meet his scared gaze. “hi, Spencer.” You mutter, tearing apart the tissue in your left pocket as your nerves spread through your system, igniting undiscovered anxieties about this situation.

Spencer remains silent, taking in the sight before him. He never thought he’d see you again, the last time he saw you he held your lifeless body in his arms as he cried for you to stay with him. Yet you’re here, in London, alive.

“Do you wanna sit down?” You motion to the nearest vacant bench, and Spencer walks alongside you without saying a word.

Sitting down beside him, the gap between you feels too big. You’re used to the times of sitting together on the jet, resting your head on his shoulder and drifting off peacefully.

“Been up to much whilst here?” You ask, unsure what else to say. You can see out of the corner of your eye he’s looking straight ahead at the squirrels scaling the trees like buildings in the city.

“Why?” Spencer breaks his silence, his voice firm with you which takes you back by surprise.

“I,” You pause, lowering your head in defeat as you stare at the faint scar on your hand from the initial knife wound that Jason struck you with. “I had no choice.” You admit, hearing the gunfire as you blink away the memory.

“Everyone has a choice, Y/n, always.” He reminds you and just hearing him say your name causes your heart to drop. “You could’ve told us, we would’ve kept you safe, you know I,” Spencer pauses as he exhales his frustration. “we could’ve protected you.”

“I know, Spence,” You mutter, now turning to look up at him for the first time. “but I couldn’t do it, Hotch and Emily assured everyone would be safer this way.” You try to explain as you see the pain that lines his eyes, the heartache held in his gaze as he focuses on you.

He looks older, still sleep-deprived, but there’s a hint of happiness in the lines that surround his lips. A reassurance that he does have good days, the one thing you wished he'd have since you left.

“So you just left knowing we thought you died in my arms? Do you have any idea how I felt?” He’s angry, and rightfully so. “I, I thought I meant more to you than that, Y/n.” His anger subsides as his voice softens, his defences down.

You can’t help but reach out as you look at your hand on top of his, not daring to move it as you study his reaction.

“You’re the most important person to me, Spencer.” You reason, feeling his hand take a hold of yours, resting it in his palm as he curls his fingers over your hand, refusing to let go. “That’s why I had to let you believe I was gone, as Lodgings’ team would know, they’d always know and you would be in danger because of me.”

Spencer shakes his head. “We would’ve found a way, we, we,” He stumbles over his words as you squeeze his hand.

“You think me faking my death was plan A, Spence?” You chuckle, noticing a faint smile crossing his lips. “That was plan Z, actually version 3 plan Z if we’re being specific.”

“Did you ever plan on coming back?” Spencer quietly questions as his words linger around you for a moment as you slip your hand out from his.

“What did Emily tell you, Spence?” You ask, looking up at him as you hide your hands in your coat pockets, picking at the tissue once more.

“Besides the fact you’re alive and in London?” He nervously chortles, catching you rolling your eyes playfully. “She said you were doing okay, and that you were safe here.”

“I am, with Lodgings’ team having been sentenced, I’m no longer a target to them. My life is my own again, I can finally carry on living it.” Looking up, you watch as pigeons fly overhead, swarming down on the chunks of bread left for the swans. “But I made an agreement with Hotch, I’d stay away for at least three years. Three years to ensure my safety and for Lodgings’ team to be dismantled and dealt with.”

“Three years.” Spencer repeats, and you nod along. “You’re not planning on coming home, are you?” Your silence answers his question without you needing to respond. “I understand, Y/n. Three years is a long time to be gone from us all, and people change.” He reasons to himself more than to you. “I, we all thought you were gone, and finding out you’re alive I,” His voice trails off as he clenches his jaw, fighting his emotions that have been pent up for so long.

“Spence,” You mumble his name as tears fall from his eyes. “I want to come home, I do. I just don’t know if it’s home anymore.”

“Home is where the heart is.” Spencer comments.

“Elvis Presley.” You chuckle, lifting your hand up as you wipe away his tears, feeling him tense momentarily from your touch.

“Please don’t go, Y/n.” Spencer whispers as he lifts his hand up, resting it on top of yours as you cup his cheek. “I want to be selfish, I don’t want to lose you again if I don’t have to.”

Tears glaze your eyes as Spencer scans your face for any uncertainty. “Six months, Spence.” The words are barely audible for anyone passing by, but you know he heard you.

“One hundred and eighty-two point five days.” He nods as you lower your hand from his cheek, but he still keeps his on top of yours. “Then you’ll come home?”

“I can’t promise, Spence.” You know lying would be useless with him, you were never the most confident liar around him. “But before I go, I just want to tell you something.”

“Anything.” Spencer responds in a heartbeat, his entire body facing you now as you lower your gaze and take a steady breath.

“When you held me in your arms as I was,” Even after all this time, you still struggle saying the word. “well, fading, there was one thing I couldn’t help but think as you pleaded for me to stay.”

Spencer edges closer, your thighs touching as the previous gap between you both on the bench is gone. “What was it?”

“I wanted to tell you how much I care for you, how much I love you. And I wanted to thank you for being there for me through everything.” Your eyes remain locked on his as you pour your heart out to him, knowing if you don’t say it now, you never will. “But I didn’t have enough life in me to say all that then.” You nervously laugh. “So I thought I’d say it now, as it’s still true. You are a wonderful person Spencer Reid.”

A comfortable silence falls between you both as echoes of children's laughter surrounds you. And for the first time in years, you feel perfectly content.

“You know, Rossi once told me something,” Spencer speaks up, looking down at your hand as he brushes his thumb over the scar Jason caused. “scars show us where we have been, they do not dictate where we are going.”

“Wise words from a wise man.” You comment quietly as Spencer pauses.

“I know you have scars, Y/n. Externally and internally. But I’ll always be here, wherever you chose to be.” A small sweet smile lines Spencer’s lips as you focus on him, wishing there was so much more you could say. “And I’ll always love you, I’ll always miss you. But if I know you’re healing, then that is all that matters.” He lifts your hand up to his lips, kissing it softly before lowering it back to your lap, unaware of your heart-shattering in your chest.

“I’ll see you soon, Spence.” You tell him as he stands up, hands resting in his jacket pockets as he sways back and forth on his heels.

“One hundred and eighty-two point five days, Y/n.” He reminds you, and you can’t help but laugh and Spencer joins in too for a moment and everything feels okay again, just for a second. “I’ll be holding you to it.” He smiles to you one last time as he sees the glint in your eyes falter. “Bye Y/n.”

“Bye Spencer.” You wave to him as you turn around, walking down separate paths once more, unsure when you’ll next reunite.

[thero0ks]

Carnations and Constellations <Deimos! Alexios> NSFW

Request:  hiii!! i found ur blog could u perhaps write about deimos! alexios and or connor catching feelings for a soft girl and they gets obsessed with how her body is so soft compared to theirs? fluff or smut(?) either way is fine!! id just like it to be super cute ;_;

This is my first attempt at smut. Let me know what you guys think! :) Also, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Please don’t read if you’re under 18.

***

A gift for the Deimos. It was an honor, and the gods would smile upon her. The truth was she was expendable, and they were terrified of the monster they created. 

Humans were cruel creatures, and the cult of Kosmos were full of twisted individuals. He became what he had to to survive. 

"You are to do his bidding." Those were the last words her father spoke to her. 

Their control over his rage was slipping. The cultists hoped he would channel his rage onto her, in whatever way he deemed fit. 

She was instructed to kneel by a low chair. By the weapon racks surrounding it, she assumed this is where he stripped his armor. "You will not look at him until he deems it." A cultist ordered.

"Deimos, the cult of Kosmos have blessed you with a gift." 

He studied the woman, taking in her figure, her soft features looked out of place in the dark room. 

Cold steel pressed under her chin. The blade tilted her chin up and she met honey eyes. Eyes that wanted to hold warmth, but churned violently instead. Dark circles ringed his eyes, but he had a face that was more beautiful than Adonis himself. 

"If she isn't to your liking we can find a more suitable offering."

In a flash his blade was pressed against the cultist's neck as he seethed, "what are you still doing here?" 

The man managed to sputter out a cry as Deimos shoved him towards the door. He thudded against the marble floor, and scrambled out of the room. "What do they call you?" 

"Y/N." 

He studied her a moment, "I expected you to say I could call you whatever I liked."

"That is what they told me to say." She confessed. "I haven't any reason to appease them." Her jaw was set, and shoulder's square. 

She had some spirit about her, which he found amusing. "And you are mine to do as I please," he mused sitting in the low chair next to her. Calloused fingers gripped her jaw inspecting her face once more, "Aphrodite has blessed you, and they have given you to me unspoiled?" He questioned, studying her gaze. 

She gave a simple nod, which seemed to appease him. He'd grown up around serpents, and had no patience for liars.  

"Well?" He gestured to his armor as he sat. With nimble fingers she was quick to strip him of his armor.

"Would you like me to polish it too?" She inquired, placing the armor on it's stand. 

She was startled to find calloused fingers lightly gripping her neck. His low voice was the harbinger of death. "Do you think I'm so easily fooled?" 

"Please, just do it." She said laying her hands over his. "If it's not you, it'll be someone else." 

Her words startled him, and his grip loosened. "They'll try to exploit you if you ever came to care for me." His fingers ran down the soft slope of her shoulders as he took her words in. She was a pawn too, but to the cult she was expendable. 

He knew for both of their sake he should end it now. It would be quick, her bones would be easy to break, and her neck would snap like a twig. However, she was so small, so vulnerable that he couldn't entertain the thought of striking her down. 

"Perhaps you are a gift from the gods." He muttered. His fingers catching a bit of silk fabric that hung about her waist. 

The touch was fleeting as he dropped the fabric. Y/N could feel his demeanor shift behind her. "Polish my armor." His voice came out gruff as he stalked out of the room.

She set to work polishing the armor and blade until they both gleamed.

He returned late in the night to find her sound asleep against one of the weapons racks. A sound of surprise escaped his throat when he saw the polished armor.

Her calming presence had confused him, and he'd removed himself from the room to ponder it. However, coming back to her sleeping form had stirred a gentleness within him that left him more confused.

He had concluded that he would use this gift the gods gave him. He had never had the time to explore a woman's touch, perhaps she could melt his cold heart. 

He made his way over to her, in a gentleness that surprised him, and he placed her on the soft bed. He shrugged on an azure linen chiton before sitting on the edge of the bed. She’d curled into herself, and she looked tiny. Like the carnation petals that littered Zeus’ temple floor. The jewel studded hair pins glittered in the moonlight, and Deimos plucked them from her hair. Ten pins littered the small table when he was finished. 

He finally settled in behind her. She looked peaceful as she softly stirred beside him. Her eyes fluttered open. He watched her process reality. His hand shot out to grip her bicep before she could sit up. Again he was reminded of her size in his calloused palms. “Stay.” His deep voice melted in her ears. She settled back down into the warmth of his body.

The bed was cold when she awoke the next morning. His armor gone, and a platter of fruit, cheese and bread were laid out on the table next to her. She ran her fingers through her hair as her gaze rested on the pile of hair pins. He’d taken the time to remove each one, and he even shared his bed. 

The man wasn’t a monster, so why did everyone fear him? Her mind replayed the moment he’d thrown the Cultist across the room. Could that classify him as a monster? If she had the power to show the Cult of Kosmos that kind of wrath she wouldn’t hold back either.

The gilded doors creaked open, and several cultists walked in. Y/N’s shoulder tensed at the sight. The cultists appeared to be surprised she was unharmed. The leader of the group spoke, “you will accompany Deimos to the feast tonight.” The cultists took a step closer, Y/N could feel the cultists’ breath fanning her neck. “If he acts out, you will be the first to feel our wrath.” 

She recognized that voice. It was amusing seeing her father shocked she was still breathing, and here he was threatening her with violence. He snapped his fingers and a maid quickly rushed forward. A pile of white fabric laid across her arms. “They will get you ready.”  

The cult turned to leave, as Deimos entered the room. The cultists scurried fast out of the room to avoid his fury. He crossed the room in a few strides and grabbed her chin. His grip was firm, but slightly tender as his eyes flickered over her body checking for any harm that could have befallen her. “What did they want?” His voice was deep, and demanding. 

The maids cowered at his presence, “they wanted me to ensure you would not act out tonight.” 

“Or what?” His words came out as a feral growl as he took a step closer. His breastplate felt warm against her skin. 

“They will punish me.” Her voice was soft, but her words hung heavily in the air. Anger radiated off his body. He turned to the weapons rack, and in the blink of an eye he sent a bronze shield through the rack. Steel clattered on the marble floor, and the maids whimpers echoed off the walls. Y/N spared them a glance, and could see the women shaking. Tentatively she reached out. His back went ridged when her hand met his arm. “Don’t worry about me.” She said gently, “they fear you too much to take me away.” 

“If they lay a hand on you.” He paused, inhaling deeply.

“I know.” She said softly, as he brushed his fingers against her cheek. Her gentleness was something that had been lacking in his life. The thought of anyone laying a hand on such a kind heart had him seeing red.

She pressed a soft kiss to his palm before turning to the maids. The three women scurried to their feet, head down so as not to catch Deimos’ eye.

The ladies unclasped the brooches letting the silk fabric pool at her feet. Deimos had taken a seat to sharpen his blade. His eyes flickered up at the rustling of fabric. Soft curves hypnotized him. They were a stark contrast from the hard worked muscles of his body. It would be easy to dismiss the maids, he longed to feel the softness of her breast, and the roundness of her ass. Before his mind could go much further white silk was fastened into place. 

The dress left little to the imagination. It was another way for the Cult to show their control. What was supposed to be his, wasn’t really his, and they made sure it was known to him. He watched them pin her hair up in an elaborate style, applying perfume.

The ladies left as quickly as they came, and Deimos took her in. She looked like a flower to him, and she seemed out of place in the dark room. The only light in his dark and twisted life. She took a seat on the bed and she gripped the blankets tightly. Something tugged at his heart, it was a new feeling for the warrior. She looked terrified, she’d managed to hide it well so far. He did not think the fear was directed at him. Most quaked in his wake, but she hasn’t shown him an ounce of fear. 

“I will not let any harm befall you.” 

His voice surprised her, and she let go of the linen blankets. “I’m sorry.” The words came out as a whisper, and she’d never felt so small. 

Deimos took a seat next to her. He’d never learned how to comfort himself let alone another person. He longed to take her in his arms, but was unsure of his own touch. 

Teary eyes took him in: his muscles tense, and jaw clenched. The warrior was trying to console her, even if that meant sitting next to her awkwardly. “You’re very kind.” 

A look of surprise crossed his features. He looked down into her earnest (e/c) eyes. “No one has ever used that word to describe me.” 

She brought her hand up to brush against his beard. A very tender gesture, and Deimos felt like putty in her hands. He brushed his nose against her’s before pressing his lips to her’s. She melted into his touch. His lips were rough, but his touch was gentle. Fleeting kisses peppered her jaw and neck, as calloused fingers traced her curves. He fumbled with the brooch when the doors slammed open. 

Deimos was already at the man’s throat before Y/N could blink. “The cult is ready for you.” The man gasped. Deimos released the man, “come.” 

Y/N scurried along behind him. Her legs working overtime to keep up with his powerful strides. A group of horses were waiting outside of the fortress entrance. A sleek black stallion looked decorated for war. Y/N could only assume the stallion was for Deimos. The cultists ushered her to the back of the line. They seated her on a bay horse. A mercenary was ponying her horse. Apparently the cult didn’t trust her to not try and escape. 

The banquet was being held at a nobleman’s house. When she dismounted, she could see the gleam of Deimos helmet disappear behind the house. The mercenary that was ponying her to the party guided her through the doors with a push of his hand. She found the mercenary was always in eyesight wherever she wandered. The wine table took too long for her to find. Her eyes flickered across the various faces in the room. She was startled to find her mother amongst some of the ladies. When she caught her eyes, her mother sneered, and turned her back. The group of women laughed, all throwing her judgemental looks. 

She wrapped her arm around herself, hoping the floor would swallow her up. She took a deep pull from her goblet. Damaged goods, that’s what she was to her family. They tossed her to the wolves, and had the audacity to mock her. Most people avoided her, but she didn’t miss the hushed whispers that passed around the room. Words like whore and slut were directed at her.

When she finally found a secluded hallway, she pressed herself against the wall. The cold marble felt good against her hot skin. The past couple days had been a whirlwind. The only constant in her life was Deimos. Everyone called him the monster, but he was the only one who had shown her a sliver of kindness. 

A crashing noise sent her back into the banquet hall. The marble railing gave her a perfect view of the scene below. One of the large cypress tables was tipped on its side. Wine and oil mixed on the mosaic floor. A middle aged man cowered at the sight of Deimos. His golden blade glinted. Deimos looked like a god in the way his armor glowed in the candlelight. He cut an imposing figure as he strolled around the room. People cowered and stared in awe at the sight of the mighty Deimos. All wondered what depths of Hades had spit him out, his voice held a hint of boredom. The way a cat lazily plays with a mouse before it devours it. “Did you think you would escape me?” Deimos drawled on, his eyes circulating the room. 

The man pleaded some incoherent words. He even resorted to pleading on hands and knees. “I grow tired of this game.” Deimos stated, before plunging the blade through the man's throat. Y/N gaped at the sight. Never had she seen such violence. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt hands on her arms. She glanced up to see the mercenary ushering her forward. 

The wine and oil splashed across her dress as she made her way to Deimos. He stretched his hand out for her to take. Hands were stained red, and Y/N was unsure if it was the wine or the man’s blood. Her eyes flickered down to the swirling of crimson and berry. Steeling herself she took his hand, showing weakness would give the cult satisfaction. Deimos led her through the crowd. The whispers about her had stopped, she had no doubt they were terrified of Deimos hearing their poisoned words.

The black stallion was waiting at the entrance. Deimos lifted her onto the steed, before mounting. She wrapped her arms around him as nudged the horse forward. 

The sun fading painted the sky in brilliant colors of pinks and purples. It was the first time they’d been truly alone. No procession in tow, no walls full of vipers, just the music of the cicadas and the salty breeze that blew in from the sea. The stallion slowed its pace to a walk, as Demios navigated the horse down a steep slope. Deimos dismounted, before assisting her down. 

 Never had she been somewhere so beautiful. A small waterfall cascaded down the cliff side into a small pool. Deimos studied her expressions, he was glad she seemed to find beauty in this place. He never intended for her to see the monster he’d become. With the Cult of Kosmos it was unavoidable. Her dress was stained with the other man’s blood. He stripped his armor until he was in only his chiton. He turned to her to see her watching him. He laid out a soft blanket, and pulled out a clean dress. He took great care in unpinning her hair, to let it fall down her back. Calloused fingers unclasped the brooches, letting the soiled dress fall to the ground. 

She was starkly aware of her own nakedness, as Deimos brushed her hair to the side to kiss her neck. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled into her neck. She furrowed her brow at his guilt, but he’d already swept her into his arms before she could respond. He sat her on a rock, and began to wash the blood from her skin. Honey eyes focused on his task, and Y/N assumed this was his way of atoning for what he had done. Deimos’s hands felt good against her skin. The way his large hands massaged her calves as he scrubbed back and forth until the water ran clear. She wanted to know how his hands would feel everywhere. 

When he finished his administrations, he sat her on the soft blanket. Taking great care to keep her warm. With a jolt of courage she softly stroked his beard. His eyes flickered up, confusion evident on his face. Perhaps he expected her to fear him like everyone else. Instead she pressed her lips firmly against his. He was quick to return the kiss. His kisses were rough, but she could feel the longing in them. How long had he gone without connecting with another soul? If Y/N had to guess, she was the first one to willingly touch him. 

Soon she found him on top of her. One palm cradling her neck as he peppered kisses along her jaw, while the other balanced him above her. His whiskers brought a pleasant burn against her skin, that his lips soothed as they passed over her skin. The gentle moans that escaped her lips only encouraged him further. 

The sight of her breasts caused a sharp inhale in the warrior. The soft shape was a stark contrast to his battle hardened body. He peppered kisses along her breasts before thumbing each nipple. The weight of her breasts felt full in his hands. He captured one in his mouth as he rolled the other with his thumb. Small hands tugged at his hair, as soft whimpers escaped her lips. Deimos couldn’t decide if he liked the feel of her breasts more, or if it was the sinful noises his touch solicited from her lips. 

His hand cupped her sex as he captured her lips with his once more. He kissed down her body before settling in between her thighs. Y/N sat up on her elbows in anticipation feeling his breath against her sex. Dark eyes flickered up at her lighting a fire in her core. His arms tightened around her thighs as he lapped at her clit. Fingers gripped his hair, and her back arched on its own accord. 

Lustful eyes glanced up at her to see her enraptured in ecstasy. Deimos added his fingers, slowly stretching her to accommodate him. The added pleasure soon had her seeing stars, and that coil soon became so tight it finally released as her orgasm washed through her.

He climbed up her body giving her a deep kiss. She could taste herself on his tongue, it was cool and fresh. Like drinking from a cold mountain spring.

“I want to make you feel good too.” Her voice was soft as she gazed up at him with blissful eyes. This pulled a small smile from his lips. Her sweetness was contagious, and she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

“Climb on top.” He said softly, ridding himself of his remaining clothes. Soon she was straddling him. “You can go as slow, or as fast as you need.” 

The velvety skin was soft in her hand. She gave him a few strokes, which solicited a low groan from him. He gripped her thighs at the sensation. She slowly sank down on him. The pain she was feeling slowly turning into a sweet burn. When she was fully seated she gave herself a moment to adjust. Deimos gripped her hips, he knew she’d probably bruise there, but he wasn’t expecting her to feel this fucking tight. When she started moving again Deimos found himself in pure bliss. He rub her clit encouragingly, which solicited soft moans from her. When he couldn’t take it anymore he flipped the two over. Y/N looked surprised at his strength, he hadn’t even bothered to pull out. “Touch yourself.” He commanded as he set a brutal pace. She went to work on her clit, and soon she was so close. She would cum if he kept hitting that spot. “Cum for me.” Deimos demanded, and she found herself falling over the edge. Deimos wasn’t far behind, he ceased when he became too sensitive. He waited to catch his breath before finally pulling out. She curled into his side, and he brushed back her hair. She looked stunning in the moonlight, her soft curves made her look like Aphrodite. 

After cleaning them both up he set to work making a fire. He’d brought extra blankets. He hadn't planned on returning to the fortress until morning. 

They gazed up at the stars, and she pointed out several constellations to him. Her knowledge of the stars surprised him. “Why study the stars?” He inquired.

Her brow furrowed, and a peaceful silence settled in the air. “They’ve always seemed so free.” Her voice grew quiet, “people find beauty in what they are. They don’t have to be anything that they aren’t.” She sighed, “I suppose I envy that kind of love.” 

Deimos studied her hard, “who taught you to be so small?” 

A blush bloomed on her cheeks, “my family I suppose. Though I don’t think I can call them that now.” She added. 

“I heard what they said tonight.” Deimos said quietly. “I’m sorry. They only say it because of me.”

Y/N glanced over at him, his eyes looked sad. He’d been called a monster for so long, he actually believed it. “It doesn’t matter what they say.” She reached out to stroke his beard. “You’re a star, and they are nothing.”

_______

Tag List:

@marshmallow--3 

[natashxromanovf]

The Golden Years

Peter Parker × gn!reader

WORD COUNT: 537

WARNINGS: I don’t think there are any

REQUESTED: {x} by @dreamcxtcherr, fluff

SUMMARY: The usual walk home turns into a fun adventure.

A/N: Thank you for the request, Lena! I think I lost the ability to write proper fics because I wrote so many of those dialogues so sorry if this sucks. The requested prompt is in bold.

*gif not mine, credits to whoever made it*

Walking home from school with Peter is already like a tradition by now. It’s always the same; wait for each other and go home together. It’s a lovely habit and now that your friendship developed into something more, it’s even better to talk about everything and more on the way to the apartment.

Today is no different - walking down the streets, hand in hand with your boyfriend, talking about today’s drama that by no surprise, Flash caused. The atmosphere is quite chilly, making you shiver a little. Peter doesn’t notice your body slightly shaking, deep in his thoughts while he talks and talks without breathing in between. You love that about him, mostly because him rambling is better than walking in awkward silence.

“... and then they started making fun out of Ned so I had to do something. That’s why I got detention.” he finishes, a disgusting look evident on your face.

“They made fun of Ned?! I’m gonna have to have a serious talk with Flash tomorrow.” you threaten, your eyes looking straight ahead as a murderous look replaces the previously disgusted one.

“Easy there Y/N,” Peter jokes, speaking a line he often uses looking at a fact that you seem to threaten people a lot. It’s not that you get angry a lot but if someone makes fun of your friends? They better be sure they’re gonna pay for it.

“Yeah, sorry. I just hate when people bully my friends,”

“Me too,” he smiles, pressing a sweet kiss against your temple. Right at that moment, you shiver again, more violently this time as a breeze passes by you. “Baby are you cold? Here, take my jacket,”

“Thank you,”

“Of course,” Peter replies, dropping the jacket onto your shoulders, pulling you in his arms for even more warmness. This is one of the many things you love about him - he doesn’t care if he’s cold or if he’s in danger, all that matters is that you’re safe. This trait of his can be a pain in the arse sometimes but it’s still heartwarming to see someone care about you so much; it makes your heart fill with love and happiness, the kind that every human being should have the privilege of experiencing.

A couple of minutes later you’re almost home, about to turn the corner when something cold and wet falls onto your nose. You blink a couple of times before another drop makes contact with your skin. Registering what’s about to happen you try to find some sort of roof but there’s rain already pouring down your body, every single piece of clothing as soaked as it can get. Accepting the feeling, you realize it’s actually pretty fun standing outside in the rain, bringing out the inner child in you. You spin around, arms as far away from your torso as possible, bringing Peter in with you. He just laughs, giving in to your convincing, picking you up bride style, spinning around with you in his arms. It’s the most fun both of you had in months, the exams and life, in general, taking their toll on you, often forgetting that you’re still teenagers. Because teenage years are the golden years, right?

General taglist: @maybanksslut @sprucewoodlover @potterheadphanatic-blog @artxemqs

Marvel taglist: @voidmalfoy @crazy-beautiful @cunningambitousdetermined @pad-foots @scintillatea @sexysirius @rorybutnotgilmore @kimoralov3 @msfandomfreak @johnmurphyisqueer @dreamcxtcherr @griffxnnage @xxromanoffxx

Peter Parker: @romqnticizer @mollysolo @peggycarter-steverogers @youreso-golden

Feedback is very much appreciated <3

If you wanna be added to my taglist, here's the link :)

[spencers-renaissance]

The Colour of Waiting is Purple

Summary: Spencer's just trying to get home as quickly as possible when a bad decision to take a shortcut down a back alley leaves him broken and bleeding into the night. // Hotch thinks it's a new case when his phone rings at 3 in the morning. It isn't.

Tags: whump, hurt/comfort, physical assault, major character injury, hospitals, dad hotch, hurt spencer, angst with a happy ending, eventual fluff

TW: graphic descriptions of violence // physical assault (no rape/non-con)

Pairing: Gen, Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid

Word Count: 3.7k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

Disclaimer: I'm sure there are some medical inaccuracies here, everything I know comes from google, whump tumblr blogs, and my embarrassing obsession with medical dramas. I also have no knowledge of the US medical system aside from what I know from the aforementioned sources so excuse any issues there.

Spencer doesn’t think anything of it when he leaves work at his usual time, the clock pushing midnight and the offices deserted. He packs his few personal belongings up and turns off his lamp before nodding to the janitor, the only other person to be seen, and taking the elevator down to the ground floor where there’s a little more sign of human life at least. 

As soon as he steps out into the crisp winter air, he feels the exhaustion of working close to 18 hours straight on far too little sleep hit him. They haven’t even been working a case, he just gets so caught up in his reports and consults that he doesn’t notice the hours whizzing by until he looks up and the bullpen is deserted, dark except for his desk lamp. 

Inevitably when spending the day at the office dealing with banalities, he finds something that captures his interest. It tends to send him on a trawl through the internet — or, occasionally, to another part of the building — looking it up in every journal he buys a subscription to until that itch is scratched.

The others always gently touch his shoulder or call out to him as they leave, which he tends to hear about 50% of the time, and Hotch especially tries to make him leave at a more sensible time, but he can’t help the way his brain works. Once it latches onto something it’s not letting go until it’s satisfied.

His feet carry him to the Metro station while his brain absently thinks over his most recent fixation, and soon enough he’s at his stop and back in DC. The streets are slightly more lively in the city, and the noise and light snap him back to reality enough to remind him of his bone-deep fatigue. He usually walks down the main streets to get to his apartment building, occasionally catching a bus if he’s earlier than usual or a cab if he’s later, but tonight he’s just longing for a quick microwave meal, a shower, and his bed. So, he dips down an alleyway and takes the shortcut home. 

It’s stupid. 

He knows pretty much every statistic there is to know about his city, and at the forefront of his brain are those concerning crime. DC has one of the highest crime rates in America, and a person’s chances of being a victim is 1 in 18, and although it’s slightly lower in Adams Morgan which is one of the safest, violent crimes are still 36% higher than the national average. This is decidedly increased when you take stupid risks like walking through the backstreets in the dead of night when you’re on your own.

Sadly, this does not occur to Spencer before he’s deep in the back streets of the city, being slammed ruthlessly against a wall by two men he didn’t see coming. 

He’s winded immediately, and before his brain can catch up with what’s happening, a knife is being held dangerously close to his neck. All his self-defence training, all the moves Derek had spent hours teaching him when he’d first joined the BAU fly out the window and he can only breathe heavily with what he knows must be a terrified expression on his face.

“Well, well, well,” the man holding the knife leers, his arid breath hitting Spencer’s face, “look what we have here.”

The other man doesn’t speak. He’s stood slightly further back, arms crossed as he stares Spencer down. Although he’s physically the lesser threat right now, something about him has ice pooling in Spencer’s stomach.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, you fucking pansy,” he continues, pushing Spencer further into the wall, pain blossoming across his body, “you’re gonna let us look through your gay ass purse, and we’re gonna take whatever we want from it. And then, you’re gonna let Paulie here do whatever he wants to you. He’s had a real bad day, and a pathetic little queer like you is just the punching bag he needs, you hear me?”

It’s all Spencer can do to nod his head frantically. He wants to open his mouth, to negotiate, to talk them down, but this is nothing like when he’s faced with the FBI’s most wanted. He’s in control there, he’s on his turf, his playing field, it’s  his game and he knows every rule, every bylaw, every exception. 

Right now, he’s completely at these men’s mercy.

“Paulie, take his bag.” The man doesn’t take his eyes off Spencer’s face, scanning his expression and body language for any sign he’s about to bolt, for any reason to put his knife to work. 

He tries to calm himself down a little, enough to catch his breath at least. He’s taken countless beatings throughout his life, he knows how to survive, just… please, don’t let it be anything more. It’s all Spencer dares to hope for.

The other man steps forward and snatches his messenger bag, unceremoniously dumping the contents of his bag on the pavement. Spencer’s just grateful that he doesn’t have anything in there that hints towards his career. He knows this type: they’re intimidating but they’re easily scared. Right now, he’s a weak twenty-something on his way home, he’s not a threat to them, but who knows what they’d do to him if they realised he’s a fed?

They take his wallet and his phone before they rummage through his pockets to find some spare cash. His badge is tucked in an inner pocket in his blazer and his Quantico ID is still hanging around his neck, hidden under his scarf, blazer, and thin overcoat; he’s so glad he never took it off. 

An icy tear drips down his face as he stands there, pressed against the wall, awaiting his fate. All he wants right now is to be back at home. No, that’s not right. All he wants right now is  Hotch. As soon as the thought of his father-figure crosses his mind, the tears start flowing faster, desperate to feel safe again, knowing Hotch is the only person to really let him feel that way.

The man holding the knife has turned to watch Paulie sift through his bag and rummage through his pockets, but as soon as his steely grey eyes return to Spencer’s face, his face splits into a shit-eating grin. “Aw, are you crying?” he mocks, starting to laugh. “Are the big bad men making you feel scared? You gonna run home to Mommy?”

He knows that it’s exactly what the man wants, but he can’t stop the tears from devolving into full-blown sobs at his words. The whole terrifying experience, the implications, the realisations of what might be coming for him in the next few minutes start to catch up to him and he’s violently shaking as he cries uncontrollably. 

“You’re pathetic,” the man spits, releasing his grip on him slightly, letting Spencer’s shaky legs collapse under him and send him crashing towards the ground. “He’s all yours, Paulie. I’m gonna enjoy this.”

His position is quickly taken over by Paulie as the other man leans against a dumpster close by to watch the show, and Spencer looks up at the intimidating man with fear blazing in his eyes as he hangs in purgatory, knowing the hell that’s about to rain down on him. 

Paulie doesn’t take long to get started and he doesn’t hold back, his sturdy, black boots kicking him relentlessly in the stomach and his thighs before moving up to his chest, slamming the toe of his boots into each individual rib. Spencer can hear the other man laughing maniacally over the sound of his own bones breaking, over his own choked pleas for mercy, but it’s like Paulie doesn’t hear either of them. His face is blank as he gives Spencer the beating of his life, and it only makes him more terrifying. 

He quickly gets bored of kicking Spencer and bends down to yank him up by his scarf, only to land a hard, brutal punch on his jaw, then his cheek, then his nose before dropping him down again, this time so his back is vulnerable, at the mercy of Paulie’s cruel feet.

The torture continues for a few more minutes, and Spencer doesn’t know how no-one hears his desperate cries, but they’re left alone in the alley as he coughs up blood and feels his bones break under the tread of Paulie’s boots. He’s deprived of air as his chest is stood on, as his windpipe is crushed, but finally,  finally it’s over.

“I’m bored,” Paulie grunts, giving Spencer one last brutal kick to the base of his back before walking over to the other man. They both saunter off down the alleyway, not casting a single look back at Spencer lying curled up on the ground, surrounded by his own blood. 

Soon, the men have left, and he’s alone with only his ragged, painful breaths for company. He can hear the hoots of a bachelor party just a street over, but no-one’s coming to save him. No-one else is stupid enough to venture down the backstreets of DC. Not with crime rates like those of their city. Not in the small hours of the morning. Not alone.

He doesn’t even have his phone to call for help. 

⭐️

Hotch expects it to be work when he picks up the phone at 3am. By the time he’s sat up in bed and sliding the bar on his phone to answer it, he’s already half in work-mode, ready to call Jessica and drive Jack over before racing into work to beat the others on the team. He can already taste his first coffee of the day. 

“Hello, is this Aaron Hotchner?” 

It isn’t work.

“Uh, yes,” he says hesitantly, shifting upright a little further, sleep-addled mind trying to guess who the caller could possibly be, “speaking.”

“Hi, my name is Mary Kutner, I’m calling from George Washington University Hospital. I have you down as Spencer Reid’s emergency contact, is that correct?”

Hotch’s heart plummets, and he leaps out of bed immediately, ready to get dressed as the shock wakes him up. “That’s correct. What’s happened?”

“I’m afraid I can’t divulge much information over the phone, sir, but we’ll need you to come to the hospital urgently.” 

He isn’t usually an emotional person, but he can feel tears springing to his eyes already. Spencer is a surrogate son to him, and knowing he’s hurt without knowing what he can actually do about it is an atrocious feeling.  Please don’t let me watch another member of my family die, is all he can think as he tries to gain enough composure to reply to the nurse on the other end of the line.

“Can you tell me his condition?” he asks, somehow managing to get the words past the lump in his throat. 

“He’s currently in theatre, sir,” Mary replies as gently as one can in such a professional tone. “If you come down to the hospital and report to the ER a doctor will be able to tell you more. I’ll need you to bring identification with you, please.”

“Okay,” he breathes, trying to keep as calm as possible, “okay. Thank you for letting me know. I’ll be right there.”

He throws the phone on the bed as he finishes throwing his clothes on. He packs two bags: one for him (mostly filled with things Spencer might need) and one for Jack, pulls on his coat and shoes before creeping into his son’s room and lifting him out of bed gently, carrying him down to the car. 

Jack is a heavy sleeper — he frequently wakes up the next morning tucked in his room at Jessica’s, sometimes in the car on the way — and he’s endlessly thankful for that now. Explaining why he’s dashing out of the flat with a panicked look on his face to a seven-year-old is a conversation he’s glad to avoid.

He rings Jessica on the way who, used to his early morning calls waking her up, has no problem with looking after Jack.

Somehow, he manages to make it to the hospital only forty-five minutes later, and he didn’t even have to park illegally. Thank God the hospital is at least a little quieter in the dead of night.

“Hi, I’m Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid’s emergency contact,” he explains shakily to the woman at the front desk, laying down his FBI identification bag down as ID. He could use his driving licence, sure, but… if knowing they’re FBI agents will make any difference to Spencer’s care then he doesn’t give a damn if this could be construed in some way as abuse of his position. He’d rather lose his job than lose his son.

“Oh, hi Agent Hotchner,” the woman says with a tone of recognition, glancing at his ID before typing something into her computer, “I’m Mary Kutner, I spoke to you on the phone. Dr Reid is still in surgery but I’ll go and find a doctor who can explain the situation to you.”

He nods absently, face stern and pinched as furious anxiety toils inside him. He feels like the last forty-five minutes have been a daze, and now the bright lights and noisy machines and bustling action of the Emergency Department at a major trauma centre are slowly snapping him out of it, the implications of ‘urgent’ and ‘surgery’ and it being the middle of the damn night finally catching up to him. 

Some number of minutes pass by — he’s too anxious and caught in his head to keep track of the linear passage of time right now — before he’s approached by a young doctor, wearing a mask carefully constructed of confident professionalism and reassuring compassion. 

“Agent Hotchner?” She’s clarifying uselessly, she knows it’s him. He knows she probably has to confirm for some stupid HIPAA rule, but he just wants to know what happened goddamnit. 

“Yes,” he replies shortly, “what’s happened to Spencer?”

He doesn’t miss her almost perfectly concealed wince, and he feels his stomach sink further. “He was involved in an assault on his way home from work. A passer-by found him in a back road not far from the hospital and called for an ambulance. Luckily we got him into surgery quickly. Upon admission’s initial assessment, he had a ruptured spleen, a collapsed lung, a double kidney contusion, and he suffered a pelvic fracture along with multiple broken ribs, a fractured jaw and cheekbone, and several severe breaks in his left forearm, wrist, and hand.”

Hotch stares at the doctor in disbelief as she lists Spencer’s injuries: he feels like he’s going into shock. How could anyone want to hurt the sweetest person he’s ever met? How could anyone be so brutal? He’s worked with serial killers for nearly two decades and still, nothing could prepare him for this. He sits down in the seat behind him as the world spins, his brain trying to piece everything together. 

“Are you alright, sir?” the doctor asks, sitting down in the seat next to him. “Do you want a glass of water?”

“What?” He turns to look at her before her words sink in and he realises what she asked. “Oh. No, I’m fine… I— is he going to be okay?” As soon as the first tear spills down his cheek, he can’t stop them from falling one after another, dripping down his face in his most public display of emotion since Haley died.

“He’s going to need a lot of care,” she reasons, “he’ll need to stay in hospital for at least a week depending on the outcome of the surgery, but we have every reason to believe he’ll make a full recovery.”

“What’s— what’s the surgery for?” He feels like he’s having an out of body experience.

“They’ll address the internal bleeding first by either fixing or removing the spleen and making sure we didn’t miss anything else on the scans. The surgeon will also assess the damage to Spencer’s kidneys and make sure they aren’t contributing to the internal bleeding. They’ll address the pelvic fractures and the collapsed lung as well. You need to understand that Spencer may need further surgery and he’ll definitely need very close monitoring over the coming weeks and months.”

“What about his broken bones?” Hotch asks. “How bad is it?”

She sighs. “They’re bad,” she admits. “The pelvic fractures are likely going to have a big impact on his mobility, and he won’t have the use of his left arm for a long time. We’re looking at a long recovery, Agent Hotchner. But we have every reason to believe that he  will eventually recover.”

She pats him comfortingly on the hand before getting up. “Someone will fetch you as soon as he’s out of surgery.” 

It’s not until she’s halfway across the waiting room that he realises she never even told him her name. 

 It’s close to 8am by the time a surgeon walks over to him, still dressed in scrubs. There’s a smudge of blood on his shirt and Hotch winces at the knowledge that it’s Spencer’s. 

“How is he?” he asks, leaping up. He doesn't want any screwing around. He just wants to know if Spencer’s going to be okay. 

“He’s stable. The surgery went well. Unfortunately, we had to conduct a full splenectomy to stop his internal bleed which does put him at risk for serious infections, but otherwise, it’s good news. His kidneys will need support but should heal in a timely manner, and we were able to set the rib that punctured his lung and reinflate it, although we’re going to keep him on oxygen to be safe. His pelvis was severely fractured but we managed to reposition the displaced bone fragments and inserted a screw and metal plate to hold them together.”

“Oh, thank God,” Hotch sighs with relief. The worst, immediate threats have been dealt with, and it settles a small part of the anxiety he’s feeling. 

“He’s in room 338 if you’d like to go and see him. He should be waking up shortly.”

⭐️

Wasting no time, he races up to Spencer’s floor where a nurse lets him onto the ward and leads him down to 338. He pushes the door open apprehensively, swallowing his emotion at the sight of the man he considers a son lying in a hospital bed. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s been rushed to the hospital, but it’s never been like this. It’s always after a case: Spencer knows the risks of the job, they all do, and he puts himself deliberately in harm's way for the sake of others.

This time, though… this time he was just walking home from work. This time he had no say in the matter.

His left arm is in a cast and his face is bruised and swollen, chestnut hair matted and tangled. Opening the bag he packed, he pulls out a comb and gently teases out the tangles until he can comb through the curls completely unobstructed. There are undoubtedly more knots at the back of his head, but those can wait until he’s woken up at least. It just makes him feel like he’s doing something. 

It’s only when he sits down in the chair by his bed that he realises it’s Thursday morning now; he’s supposed to be at work today, they both are. No-one except Jessica knows what’s happened. 

The first thing, he supposes, is to ring Strauss. 

Once that’s out of the way and she knows that neither he nor Spencer will be in today and he’ll inform her of the latest updates as soon as possible, he messages Rossi. He’s the only one who will be able to remain objective enough to inform everyone, and he’s enough of a dad to the team to help manage everyone’s emotional responses. 

Just as he hits send on the message, his head snaps up at Spencer’s quiet whimpering as he comes around.

“Hey, hey, Spencer,” he says as soothingly as possible, “it’s okay, I’m here. You’re in the hospital. Are you in pain?”

Spencer blinks his eyes open blearily, wearing such a pained and vulnerable expression that it goes right to Hotch’s gut. He nods in response to his question, his good hand reaching to hold Hotch’s. 

“Okay, there’s a PCA pump right here, I’ll turn it up a little. Is that better?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, tears springing to his eyes. Now he’s not in as much physical pain, Hotch knows this is pure emotion, and he thinks that’s somehow worse. Spencer’s been through a horrifying physical ordeal, but the emotional recovery is going to be just as gruelling and last years. If there’s one word he’d use to describe Spencer, though, it’s resilient. 

He shushes him gently, bringing a hand to his hair and caressing it lightly. “I’m here,” he repeats. “You’re safe. I won’t leave you, okay?”

Spencer nods and relaxes into his touch, eyes fluttering closed as he calms down a little. 

“You rest now,” he murmurs. “I’ll be here when you wake up. Everything’s going to be okay.”

They’ll deal with the fall-out later. They’ll deal with the team coming to visit, with the paperwork for his sick leave and the frustration of government bureaucracy. They’ll manage their way through processing the trauma of what happened to him, the physical, mental, and occupational implications of the assault. They’ll stay glued at the hip while Spencer’s interviewed by the police, while doctors explain to him just how serious his injuries are. 

Right now, though, Spencer will sleep and Hotch will sit by his bedside watching the rise and fall of his chest, listening to every steady beep on the heart rate monitor, searing the living breathing proof that Spencer is alive into his mind. Spencer will sleep and Hotch will cry silently over the cruelty of the world, he’ll grieve for the man he said good-bye to 12 hours earlier, knowing he’ll never quite be the same again. 

Spencer will sleep and Hotch will be there, holding his hand, waiting for him to wake up again.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @strippersenseii @suburban--gothic @takeyourleap-of-faith

[starryseung]

lee felix + smut

☾

word count; 1.6k words

warnings; stimulation using a knife, fingering, royalty! au

prince! felix bites back a smile as he walks up the stairs. he looks up at you, only to see your mother, the queen, staring down at him with a graceful, elegant smile, welcoming the king and queen of their neighbouring kingdom who had arrived at their palace for her daughter’s hand in marriage.

celebrations, festivities were organized all around the kingdom, as the news of the princess getting married wasn’t to be taken lightly; especially if the royal lee family’s son was the one she was going to be married to. women and girls of all ages were dying to see a glimpse of the charming prince’s smile, his sweet gaze overturning their hearts. but you, you were the lucky one who was going to have him to yourself the rest of your lives.

“psst,” felix whispers, grabbing your attention. the servant standing between you smiles, and you simply wave her off. “hey,” you smile back, fingers messing with your gown as you look back down to avoid the attention of anyone else.

felix feels like he’s about to burst into tears, the fact that he was going to marry the love of his life constantly bugging him, making his heart bloom. you two had met each other in the woods towards the outskirts of your town, when you were practicing horse riding, and he was out hunting. since then, it’s been a frequent meet, and felix couldn’t express in words how much he was head over heels for you.

“you look beautiful today,” the prince flaunts, still keeping his voice low. you’re a blushing mess by now, it was obvious. you couldn’t control your feelings in front of the man, and it had been so long since you’d met him. “thanks, you too.”

“a—are you calling me beautiful?” felix grins, and you giggle softly, covering your mouth as you shake your head. “no no, i meant—”

“now that we have agreed with the wedding,” felix’s father’s voice echoes throughout the marble and concrete castle; “it’s time that the prince and with your permission, your highness, the princess, shall spend some time alone.”

your mother nods in understanding, smiling at the two of you as she gestures you and felix to head upstairs. you send felix a look, standing up to leave before bowing to the others. he follows your actions, smiling sheepishly as he trails behind you.

you open the door to your room, standing aside so felix could walk in through the door into the room he had sneaked into multiple times through the window in the past.

“ah, after you, princess,” felix bows, feigning respect while you giggle at his antics, rolling your eyes before walking and pulling him inside. you hum before plopping yourself onto your bed in the far centre of the room, draped with a white and pale blue canopy. felix laughs before walking in further, sitting himself down onto the mattress as he eyes your room, smiling at the small drawings you had made on the walls as a child.

you sit back up, nudging closer to him and resting your head on his shoulders.

“it’s finally happening,” you smile, thinking about how you were finally going to marry the love of your life about whom, surprisingly, your parents did not know about.

“yeah, it’s gonna be weird walking into your room from that door instead of jumping in from the window,” felix laughs and you chuckle beside him, holding his arm as you play with his fingers. he tangles his fingers with yours, smiling softly at the soft feeling of your hands against his calloused ones.

“felix?”

“hmm?”

“i love you,”

the prince sighs, smiling so hard his jaw hurts. he turns around to face you, pecking your lips as if replying to your sudden confession— the one out of thousand times you’d already exclaimed your love for him.

“you do?” he asks, smiling before kissing you once again, this time deeper, biting your bottom lips ever so lightly.

“yeah, a lot,” you breathe out, focused on the intoxicating feeling of his lips on yours. he pulls open a knot on the back of your dress, letting the corset untie itself as it falls loose. felix pushes you slightly backwards, so you’re back to lying on the bed. easily swinging a leg over you, he rests a hand beside your head so he’s upright, pushing his tongue in you when you gasp at his quick actions. he fishes out something from his pocket, something you can’t recognize, but it comes in your view when he moves lower to your jaw, nipping at the skin. for some reason, he had his pocket knife out in his hand, and for some reason, even after spending so much time with him, you hadn’t ever seen it. 

he moves lower, pulling your gown off of you in nearly two swift attempts, the lack of the heavy garment on you making your skin feel relieved, the warm air of the room engulfing you. he snaps open the knife and you can only see a glint of the small letter engraved on it, y/n, and when he subconsciously flips it, you see his name, felix. he kisses lower and lower against your skin, stopping when he reaches your bra.

“is it pretty?” 

you bite your lip to hold back a smile, realizing he had created the blade, just for you.

“yeah, it is,” and it’s only a split second since the words have left your mouth, before the tip of the knife gently comes in contact with your temples, the cold tip grazing against your warm skin as he brought it lower, eyes glinting in fascination as you whine at the cold feeling, a wave of sensitivity taking over you.

“you like that, princess?”

you nod, biting your lips to hold back any more noises to create suspicion outside your room. felix smirks, gliding the metal down to your bra, unbuckling and tossing the clothing away before bringing the tip back to your exposed breast, placing the cold surface flat against your perked nipples. you whimper softly, mouth hanging open at the sensation against your buds, your panties uncomfortably sticking to yourself.

“tell me if it feels bad,”

you nod again, too focused on the blissful feeling as he moves lower, dragging the knife carefully along with him. he reaches your white underwear, smirking as he cuts the fabric in a second before pulling it away from you, chuckling at the wetness slowly dripping out of you due to his previous teasing.

“is this because of me, princess? i did this?”

“y—yeah, felix, you did,”

he smiles, bringing the wide part of the knife carefully against your heat, and you bring your hand up to your mouth, shielding back the loud moan. it felt heavenly, the cold metal pressed against where you needed it the most, the mere sensation sending your brain in a frenzy.

felix knows the effect it has on you, bringing the knife away before cleaning it against the sheets; bringing it back to your cunt. this time, knowing how you feel about it, he presses it straight against your clit, and the effect it has on you has him grinning from ear to ear. your back arches away from the bed, thighs trembling as he rubs the metal against your folds, mindful of the sharp edge. your small whimper and moans make him fall further into the want of making you feel pleasure, and he pulls away the wide knife before bringing it back onto your clit, rubbing it in circles. 

“mmh felix, please,” you groan softly, clawing at your sheets, half sorry for the maid who will have to come and clean up your room. but that thought stays just for a mere second, felix’s fingers replacing the knife as he pushes it back into the pocket, tossing it on the bed. he rubs two fingers against your hole, spreading open your folds as he prods his digits.

he’s pushing them in ever so slightly and you clench around him at the foreign feeling, toes curling in pleasure when he pushes them deeper. he groans at the tight feeling you provide around his digits, breathing erratic from the way his fingers curl in you, scissoring you as you feel your high closer, like a thousand pins pricking at you. he thrusts his fingers quicker, gyrating his palm against your clit in a way you’re seeing stars.

“i— ah, felix,” your thighs shake violently under him, his fingers continuing their movements in you as he rides out your thigh. you drop your head back on the sheets as you finish off around his fingers, trying to even out your breaths as felix cleans you up with a rag he found on the chairs, cleaning up his knife as well before stuffing it back in his pocket.

he helps you get into your dress, tying your corset as he looks at you through the mirror, and you break out a small giggle at his focused expression behind you as he tightens the knots once again, double-checking you out in the mirror.

he kisses the side of your head and then your cheek, smiling before holding your hand to escort you out of your room.

he leans in to whisper into your ears, a quick ‘i love you’ before leaving you blushing, walking ahead to reunite with the rest of the royal heads to continue with the discussions of your wedlock.

—

a/n; welcome to ep. 1930127495124 of my fics aren’t showing up in the tags :D i was gonna post something else today but lets keep it for next time hehe ;) and i honestly thought about keeping changbin in this, but i realized there was like 1 felix fic on this blog, so that’s changed now >:D thanks for reading!!!!

taglist; @joengni @cherryeol04 @lomlminho @bruh-changbin @yooniversalstudios @ann0325441904 @yourdaddychan @nightshade-minho @yangomangos (message me if you want to be added!)

@stayverse

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

Through the Eyes of Another - Benny Miller POV of the Helicopter Crash (TC2 Universe)

A/N: I have been toying with the idea of how Benny reacted and felt when Doc fell out of that helicopter in chapter 2 of Switch to Channel 2 and I finally wrote it. Thank you for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking.

Pairing: Benny Miller x F! Reader (Doc) 

Warnings: Language, canon typical violence, longing 

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Benny looked down at Doc resting on his shoulder, her hand intertwined with his, a small dribble of drool dripping down her chin, and he thought no one had looked more beautiful. Fifteen years of friendship, watching her go out with every type of man, and even falling for Pope, she was worth the wait. The craft shook once as they climbed in altitude, and Pope nodded to him from her other side, raising her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles softly before getting up to go to the cockpit. Benny changed the frequency back on his and hers headset and, as gently as possible, moved her to lay back, but those eyelashes fluttered like the wings of a butterfly. Frankie’s voice cackling across the headset. 

Her eyes opened slowly, and she blinked up at him, giving him a small smile, her not knowing the effect she had on him. He stood up and stretched, following behind Santiago to the cockpit. “What’s going on up here, boys?” he shouts and squints as the sun peaks over the mountains. Frankie focused on lifting them higher, and the red light began to blink and beep rapidly. 

“We need to lose some weight, or we’re not going to make it over the mountains,” Frankie turned to Pope and Benny. 

“You want to leave money in the middle of the jungle?” Tom huffs and crosses his arms like a petulant child. 

“Do you want to get to the ocean?” Frankie snaps, and Benny puts an arm on his shoulder to calm him down. 

“We’ll take care of it, come on Benny,” Pope claps his shoulder, and he follows him to the back. The craft gives another harsh shake, and Will reaches out to steady Doc, but Benny gets their first, wrapping his hands on her waist and pulling her back against his chest. The light floral perfume that clung to her skin wafted up to his nose, and he inhaled deeply, feeling a sense of calm wash over him. “We need to get rid of some of the money, or we’ll never make it over the Andes!” Pope shouts, pointing towards the back. 

Doc nods and goes to follow, stopping once to put a hand on Will’s shoulder when he goes to follow, narrowing her eyes at his stern look. He sighs and lays back down, and Benny smiles, following behind her. Ben reaches for the handle, and the back opens almost blowing them back as the cold air swarms around them. Doc looks between him and Pope, and they nod, tossing bags out the back and watching as they explode like confetti as the money hits the mountainside. 

 “That’s enough; let me go check!” Santi shouts and makes his way back to the front. Benny closes the hatch on the back and watches her shiver, reaching a handout and pulling her to his chest. She leans to lay on him, and he leans down, pressing his lips to her forehead, feeling her shiver from the gentle touch. 

Doc walks back over to Will and puts on her headset tuning in to the conversation upfront. “Come on, baby, come on, baby,” Fish chants, and she grabs onto the seat as the helo shakes violently beneath her, the beeping from the control panel. “She feels better,” Benny watches her smile a little before she is flung backward, and the helicopter surges backward. 

Benny fights his way to her side, pulling her to his chest, keeping one arm around her waist and the other to the wall. “What the fuck are you doing, Catfish?!” Will shouts, and Doc holds tight to Benny’s arm around her waist. As if he would ever let anything happen to her. 

“One of the gearboxes is blown; I don’t want to put her into a spin,” Frankie’s voice is calm, and Benny is reminded why Fish is one of the best pilots out there. It feels like hours but could not be more than a few minutes as they spin in the helo. “Lose the money, and maybe we don’t die,” Frankie’s voice comes out quiet before he is screaming, “LOSE THE MONEY OR WE ALL DIE!” 

Santi points to the level behind Benny, “Ben! Pull the lever!” Ben reaches with his free hand, not braced around Doc, and pulls the lever, but nothing happens. Shit. Doc rips herself out of his grasp, and he makes a mad dash to grab her, but she’s too quick. Benny watches with horror as she shimmies through the hatch and hangs out of the craft. 

“FUCK, DOC!” Benny drops to his knees and reaches for her hands, holding on with everything he has. He just found this relationship with her, fuck if he is going to lose her now. His hands hold on to her wrist, and she kicks at the red handle, and the bag releases, shooting the craft a few feet up in the air. “Hang on, sweetheart,” Ben bites his lip and feels the tear soak his cheek. 

She looks down and then back up at him grimacing for a moment, “Benny! You have to let me go!” She must be out of her fucking mind. 

“FUCK THAT,” I love you, “We can pull you up!” Please, sweetheart, please don’t do this. He pleads with his eyes, but she just gives him a smile and lets go of the edge. Ben holds on, but it’s not enough, and she screams, dropping to the ground with a thud. “NO! FUCK, DOC! NO!” 

“BENNY!” Will shouts, and Ben turns, wiping his nose, “Hang on, brother! We will find her, but you need to live through this first!” Ben nods and moves as quickly as he can to the seat, and his hands shake, pulling the belt on the seat. They hit the ground hard and turn on their side, rotating in a circle, the blades slicing the ground like a blender. Ben unlatches the belt and falls to the ground as soon as they stop, helping to get Will to his feet. 

“BENNY!” he hears her shout, and he lets out a broken sob, barely holding it together. Hands shaking and breathing coming out in gasps, he helps Santi and then Will out of the craft and watches Will slide down the side, Pope reaching a hand out for him. Benny climbs up and out and slides down the opposite side trying to compose himself but failing miserably. 

She didn’t even fucking think about what losing her would do to him. The relief turns to anger as he stalks around the craft and sees her checking over Will. When she finishes, he wastes no time and flings her over his shoulder and to the other side. She screams, but he honestly couldn’t give a fuck and lands her unceremoniously to the ground and watches as she opens her mouth to argue but freezes. He knows he looks like hell. Wouldn’t you be if the one you loved just did something foolish and suicidal?

“What the fuck were you thinking?” She tries to speak, but he cuts you off, putting his hands on her shoulders and shaking. “What the FUCK were you are thinking?!” he shouts, and she cringes. “You could have broken your goddamn neck! Or back! Did you not even fucking think about us when you did that shit?!” The possibilities run through his head, and he feels his throat tighten at the idea of losing her; she is everything; how could she not know that?

He can see she is on the verge of tears, and she bites her lips and swallows hard, “I did what needed to be done.” He scoffs, running a hand through his hair. 

“You didn’t need to go down that hatch! You didn’t need to disconnect us from the bag; I could have done that!” Stupid, beautiful, infuriating woman, he thinks to himself, I love you, fuck.

“Benny! Doc! Come on, let’s go; they’re getting into the net!” Tom’s voice shouts from the other side, and she goes to move, but he blocks her way, stepping closer until he feels her breath against his face. 

Her eyes harden; he can see the exact moment her defenses raise. “So it’s okay for you to risk your life but not me?! Don’t give me that toxic masculinity bullshit! I expect this shit from Tom but not you.” The words are biting, and he takes a step away, hurt flashing across his face. 

“You think I didn’t want you to do that because you’re a woman?” she nods, and he scoffs, “Fine, fucking believe that if you will, but the reason I didn’t want you to die is that you’re my woman! I care about you,” his voice cracks, “so much.” You are my best friend, my reason for breathing, the love of my fucking life. The words he wants to say dying on his tongue as Pope comes around the corner. 

“Sweetheart. I need you, the villagers they’re getting into the money, and we think it may be less intimidating with a woman present.” She nods, never looking away from him till the last moment, putting her hand on Benny’s arm and ducking under, walking over to Santi, who reaches a hand out for her. “You okay?” he whispers, and she nods, wiping her face. He never meant to make her cry, but he was so worried. 

Benny follows behind silently, and she goes over to stand beside Will while Redfly goes over the plan. “Alright, that’s cocaine they’re growing, so they probably already have guns on us from those towers. Doc, Pope, and I will go over and try to talk some negotiations with them. Cat, you take that ridge over there,” he points to the left, “And Benny, you take the right.” 

He doesn’t like the idea of her going close to any more danger, but he trusts her to do the right thing. Even if every fiber of his being tells him to hold her close and never let her out of his sight again, she goes to take a step toward them, and he can’t let her go without telling her. Reaching an arm out and wrapping it around her wrist. I love you, “Be careful.” 

She moves her hand down to hold his own and squeezing his fingers and following behind the others. Pope turns and looks at him over the field of cocaine plants and nods, an unspoken agreement between the two men. Protect her. At all costs. 

Taglist: @chicken-ona-stick @agirllovespancakes @jedi-mando @ghostwiththemostbitch @the-purity-pen @paintballkid711 @wasicskosgirl @fantasticcopeaglepasta @sarahjkl82-blog @boxdyeblonde @rosiefridayrogersunday @yeah-seems-legit  @mimimi-stuff @lunarthoughts @jedi-mando @idreamofboobear @aerolanya @rebelliouscat @veracruz-djarin @marvelprincess1994 @thirstworldproblemss @spacelatinoss  @martellthemandalor @kesskirata @waatermelon-sugaar @jitterbugs927 @helga1031  @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @phoenixhalliwell @gunslinger2000 @omlwhatamidoinghere @linkpk88 @tlcwrites @mariesackler @demoncrypt1066 @goalkeepernerd @meshlamando @xjustmenobodyelse @seasonschange-butpeopledont @josepedropascal @revolution-starter @blufanfictionthings @nicotinebirds @dreamer-101 @hyperfixatingmenever @whatisawwhileoutandabout @queenbbarnes @sacklerscumrag @veuliee2 @evyiione @spider-starry @thewayofthemandalorian @santiagogarcia @ladyblogger-margie​ @itspdameronthings​

Tagging some people who might be interested: @peterhollandkait @clydesducktape​ @witchyavenger​ @hidden-bookshelf​  @thirsty-flygirl

[mlm-writer]

Feel Good (Vernon x M!Reader)

Pairing: Choi Hansol/Vernon x Male Reader (NOT trans-friendly) Rating: Explicit Words: 1509 Summary: It’s the first time you have sex and Hansol is more than willing to show you the ropes.  Note: This is a repost. It was originally posted on @lgbt-kpopimagines​, but that blog died. Reposting to get everything properly in my masterlist. Tags: first time, fluff, communication, anal sex, topping from the bottom, riding, oral sex and protected sex (I’m a big fan of safe sex).

When I entered the bedroom, my heart was hammering in my chest. My hair still dripped onto my face, but I didn’t have the patience to properly dry it. Hansol and I have been talking a lot about our first time together and while I really wanted to have sex, the thought also terrified me. I saw my love playing on his phone when I came in, still half-clothed. I, too, had put on some boxers and a shirt, before coming in. Just prancing in naked seemed a little bit too much.

“All clean?” He asked with a gentle smile. His hair was still damp as he walked up to me with a towel. He threw it onto my head and started drying my hair casually. It was comforting, as if tonight was like any other night. I hummed and waited for him to be done. When the towel was off my head, I wanted to say something, but I found it hard to find words. “Hey, we can just postpone and cuddle tonight. I really don’t mind.”

I shook my head. “No! I am just…” Now was the best time to be honest and upfront. “I don’t want to disappoint you.” He smiled and took a gentle hold of my head, bringing our lips closer, but giving me enough time to pull away, if I wanted to. His soft lips moved eagerly against mine, tongue inviting me in. He was gentle with me, but also made it clear that I was in control of the situation. We kissed all the way back to the bed. He pulled me on top of him, let me take his shirt off and then took off mine.

I kissed him with eagerness, feeling the tension leave me each time our tongues brushed together. I didn’t notice we were grinding on each other, until his hips bucked up a little more violently and his bulge met mine. We moaned into each other’s mouths and I pushed myself up. “Can I take your underwear off?” I whispered, feeling breathless at the sight below me. Hansol nodded and lifted his hips as soon as I got off him. I slid his last garment off his legs and watched as his hard cock was revealed.

Hansol took my hand and wrapped it around his length. “I am all yours.” He guided my hand over his cock, letting go after a while and allowing me to decide for myself what I wanted to do. I bent down, nuzzling the hot flesh and sticking my tongue out to gingerly lick just below the head. “Need some guidance?” Hansol breathed out after a short while of me shyly getting small tastes of him. I looked up at him with a boyish smile and nodded. I felt like I knew what I wanted to do, but I was not sure what my boyfriend was okay with.

“Okay, just… please take me into your mouth. Not much, just… whatever you’re comfortable with.” I followed his instruction, wrapping my lips around him. It felt much bigger in my mouth than what it looked like. I didn’t know how much I was taking, but Hansol seemed to be enjoying it regardless. His hand rested on my shoulder. He squeezed from time to time, making sounds of pleasure in between his instructions. He told me when to suck, when to lick where to do it, until he could not take it anymore.

“Come on baby, I want to make you feel good too”, my boyfriend whined as he pushed at my shoulder. I lifted my head out of his lap and looked at him with saliva dripping out of the corner of my mouth. I watched as he sat up and patted the bed to make me lie down there.

“It would surprise you, how good it feels to have you in my mouth and hear you enjoy it too,” I mused, stealing a kiss before lying on my back. He rested his hands on my hips, waiting for a signal that he could go on. I lifted my ass off the bed and let him take my underwear off. I didn’t know I could get hard from just sucking someone off, but then again, that someone was the possibly cutest boy on earth. Said boy was now rolling a condom on me, eyes trained on my member like he was being presented a meal from the heavens, garnished by God himself.

When Hansol straddled my lap, my hands automatically ended up on his sides, caressing the soft skin as he rubbed his dry hole over my cock. “Don’t worry about prepping me; I did it while you were showering. Thought that would make you less anxious.” The soft look in his eyes brought tears to mine. I reached up to pull his face down to mine. I pushed myself up with my other arm, meeting him halfway. There were no words to express how thankful I was for his consideration, but the soft moans leaving his lips indicated that the kiss was portraying it perfectly.

We kissed like that, feverishly with mouths open, tasting one another. I had not noticed him reaching for the bedside table and pouring lube onto his hand. I assumed he did, when I felt his warm hand wrapping around my length and wetness covering the thin material around my cock. I moaned around his tongue in my mouth and bucked into his hand. I could no longer keep myself up when I felt him rubbing the head of my cock over his hole. I fell back, chest heaving. Hansol stared down at me with the most innocent upturn of the lips. “Are you ready baby?” I nodded, breathless, speechless. “I will make you feel really good,” he keened with a deep pink colour dusting over his nose and cheeks.

And he did. He pushed until the tip was inside and then lifted his hips up again. He kept teasing me like that until I could cry. “Feeling good?” He inquired with a playful tone, but I could hear the awe in his voice, the hint of admiration he always showed me. It made everything even better and I nodded. His lips connected with mine and I felt him sinking down on me completely. I gasped and grabbed his hips.

“Oh good Lord,” I whispered under my breath. Hansol paused, when he was basically sitting on my cock. I was glad he did. Never before had I been inside someone and the sensations were overwhelming. I looked up to see my boyfriend with his head thrown back and his mouth slightly open. At least I was not the only one having a good time. “Come on, babe, show me a good time,” I whines as I rubbed his sides, hoping it would encourage him to move. As good as it felt, I needed more to reach my climax.

Hansol started out slow, but gradually picked up pace. I just lied there moaning, until two hands grabbed mine and put them on slender hips. I opened my eyes, met with the sight of a sweaty boy, looking down at me in the most sensual and intense way. Hansol lifted his hips without losing me and rested his elbows next to my head. “Please fuck me,” he whimpered with hooded eyes.

I took a firm grip on his hips and bucked mine up. It took a little while, before I got the hang of it, but my boyfriend encouraged me with every moan and whimper leaving his lips. Soon enough I was fucking up into him with the same pace as he had been riding me. Our moans mixed, filled the room and echoed off the walls. I didn’t realise how close I was, until I found my whole body convulsing, orgasm shaking through every muscle. I reflexively pulled Hansol down on my spasming cock, groaning through every drip leaving my length. When I started coming down from my high, I felt wetness on my stomach.

I opened my eyes, seeing my boyfriend’s hand furiously flying over his own hard cock and spilling semen over my body. Hansol looked so perfectly ruined, his innocent face displaying pure pleasure, hair sticking up in some places. When he was down as well, he fell forwards onto my own damp body. The semen on my abdomen felt disgusting, but there was no room to focus on that with my lover leaving lazy kisses in my neck. “Thank you,” I sighed, head tilting to give him more room, but instead he just planted his face there, nuzzling my hot skin. He looked so cute, so happy. I could not help but say it. “I love you.”

I felt his breath hitting my skin, as he chuckled. “I love you too,” he murmured, hands finding a comfortable place. I wanted to tell him we needed to maybe clean up first, but I could already feel his breath slowing down. Guess we could get a nap first.