#filed : holy ground.

[sweetestspence]

" and then there were two "

summary: the bau recruits a new agent whose credentials arguably match their very own boy wonder’s pairing: s1!spencer reid x f!reader genre: fluff wc : 2.5k

part of the holy ground series.

“Did you hear? About the new agent?” Elle enters the bullpen with Derek, slinging an arm around his shoulders in an attempt to pull him closer. She keeps her voice just loud enough for him to hear, but it catches the attention of the agents that walk past them. Whispers of a new BAU team member had been lingering around the office for the past few days, especially one of this particular agent’s caliber.

“You heard too- What do you have over there Reid?” Derek’s train of thought had been cut of thought had been cut off the second the pair reached Spencer’s desk, the young man’s attention transfixed on a smooth stone between his fingers.

Spencer looks up, but keeps the pebble in his palm. “I picked it up from the beach a couple of days ago, I thought it looked nice so-”

“That pebble has been within a few feet of a dead body and you still picked it up?” Elle teases, cutting him off and taking the stone for him palm, bringing it up to her eye-level to ‘examine’. “It’s a strange shape though, I’ll give you that.”

Elle returns the rock back to Spencer which he places atop his desk. “You two were talking about the new agent… What- what do you think they’re like?”

Derek shrugs his shoulders. “I didn’t hear anything from Hotch or JJ, other than she’s coming in today.”

“Thank god another woman around, I was worried that we’d always be outnumbered by you four.” Elle breathes an exaggerated sigh of relief before continuing, “All I heard was the agent graduated early and worked in law for a bit.”

“You two definitely heard a lot more than I did.” Spencer’s brows furrow, his mind filled with questions of the new addition to their team. He didn’t even know they were looking for recruits, his eyes scan around the bullpen, drifting from Elle and Derek as he searched for an unfamiliar face. 

And he finds one. Standing by the doorway. You looked nervous. You’re biting the inside of cheek, your eyes scanning around the bullpen in search of a familiar figure. Possibly Hotch. You keep to yourself, as if you’re afraid of taking too much space. But it feels like a front, you’re just in an unfamiliar environment. It isn’t until Derek snaps his fingers in front of his face that he drops his train of thought. If you were the newest addition to the team, he probably shouldn’t be profiling you. 

“Did pretty boy find himself a pretty girl?” Derek laughs, following Spencer’s gaze. 

“She just looks new that’s all.” Spencer quickly averts his eyes to the rock on his desk, but it’s too late. Elle had caught on and managed to see you waiting by the door as well. 

She crosses her arms and quickly looks at you before looking back at Spencer. “Looks like you found our new agent.”

You take a couple of deep breaths before fully committing to entering the bullpen. Three people had just looked at you before returning to their conversation. You know you should probably find your unit chief first, and he’d be the one to make introductions for you. But it wouldn’t hurt to introduce yourself… right? You couldn’t ponder on the question for too long as your feet seemed to have a mind of their own, moving in the direction of Spencer’s desk where he, Derek, and Elle are.

“Hi!” You smiled, reaching a hand out for them to shake. “I’m Y/n, I’m supposed to be starting in the BAU today.”

Spencer raises a brow. You didn’t introduce yourself as an agent, only your first name. He shares a look with Elle who only shakes her head at him, as if telling him not to read into it too much. 

Derek shakes your hand. “Derek Morgan.”

“Elle Greenaway. Really nice to meet you, Y/n. I apologize we were not being subtle at all.” Elle laughs.

“Don’t worry-” You wave off her apology with a small smile, but before you could continue speaking, Derek cuts you off.

“Used to being stared at from across a room? You don’t seem like the type who buys her own drinks at the bar.” He smirks, exaggeratedly checking you out to prove his point. 

Elle rolls her eyes and gently shoves his side. “Cool it, Morgan. She’s new.” 

“It’s fine.” You nod your head towards the person directly in front of you, turning your attention turns towards the only one who hasn’t introduced himself. 

Instead of offering his hand to shake, Spencer simply offers you a sheepish smile. “Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“Doctor. Cool.” 

Your brows shoot up in surprise and Spencer searches for any sign of derision or contempt in your tone and expression. He’s used to getting such anytime he’s introduced himself to anyone older, even more so around people his age; which you seemed to be.

But you seemed to be genuinely impressed. Instead of asking a follow up question on how someone as young as him could possibly have the title of doctor attached to his name, you nod towards the small rock on his desk. 

“Most people decorate their desks with pictures, or maybe even little figurines. May I?”

Spencer gestures that you go ahead and you take the rock from his desk, examining it in a similar way that Elle had a few minutes prior.

“Anyone who would willingly want to work at the BAU isn’t going to be like most people.” Derek quips. “If it’s colorful things you’re after I’m more than willing to take you on a little field trip to our technical analyst’s office.”

“I think it’s neat though.” You move to return the pebble back, but Spencer holds a hand up, effectively stopping you in your tracks.

“You can have it if you want. You can, um,” he pauses before pushing your hand back towards you, his skin not actually touching yours, “consider it a welcome gift. Besides I think I picked up a couple more.”

“You know, male penguins offer rocks as a gift to woo female penguins… So if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.” You attempt to sound nonchalant, but there’s a hint of a teasing tone that laced your words. “On my very first day too.”

Spencer’s lips part, at a loss for words. He scratches the back of his head, trying to look at everything but you. “I, um- no, I wasn’t- I just thought-”

You chuckle at his cheeks turning the slightest shade of pink, but decide to quell his embarrassment. “Relax, Dr. Reid. I was kidding.”

“So male penguins don’t do that?” Elle asks, turning to you.

“Well they do, actually.” Spencer answers the question for you, chiming in without a second thought. “The female penguins often use the rocks to build a kind of nest.”

Derek’s gaze quickly travels between you and Spencer. “How do either of you even know about that?”

“I read about it.” Spencer shrugs.

“Yeah, that checks out.” Derek mumbles, but his words are clear enough that it makes Elle chuckle and shake her head. He turns to you, “And Y/n?”

“I couldn’t sleep one night and a nature documentary was the only thing remotely interesting on.” 

Elle leans closer towards Derek and turns away from you and Spencer, speaking in a low enough voice that only he could hear. “Oh god, looks like we have two of them now.”

Before you could even ask about it, Hotchner has already managed to walk towards your little group. “Briefing room. You can continue your introductions there. JJ’s got a case for us.”

All four of you know better than to do anything that isn’t following Hotch to the briefing room. JJ had already set up an extra chair for you, and you wait for everyone to take their seats before you take the available space between Morgan and Elle. 

“Agent L/n.” Hotch bring’s everyone’s attention towards you as soon as he’s noticed you settle in your seat. “I believe you’ve met agents Morgan, Greenaway and doctor Reid. This is SSA Jason Gideon. JJ, our liaison. And Penelope Garcia, our technical analyst.”

“I’m excited to work with everyone. Thank you for having me.” You greet, sitting-up a little straighter, a tight-lipped smile spreading across your face. 

“Oh don’t be so nervous, sweetheart. Your work’s impressive-”

“Garcia, you already looked her up?” Derek asks, but there isn’t a single ounce of shock in his voice or expression.

“Honey, whispers of a new agent? Of course, I looked her up.” Penelope responds, twirling her sparkly pen around. “Not only did cutie over here graduate early every single time, she did a double degree for her undergrad. Also got a near perfect score on the LSAT, passed the bar in the top ten, and currently trying to get a doctorate in sociology.”

You blink back at her, you weren’t even planning to go into detail about your background to the team. Before you could even ask her how she was able to find out, Gideon speaks up from across the table.

“A lawyer? Prosecutor?”

You nod. “Didn’t even last a full year. I always felt like I could be doing more, you know? Applied to join the FBI, worked in the field for a bit, and now here I am.”

Nobody misses the flash of recognition in Hotch’s eyes. After all, it’s a familiar story. But no one presses further. 

“Garcia, when you said near-perfect score…” JJ trails off, her eyes trained on Penelope. 

“Very near.” Penelope turns to you with a smile, seemingly proud despite just having met you. “179.” 

“It’s not really something I go around telling people.” You avoid eye contact with the rest of the team and look down at your lap, fiddling with your thumbs from underneath the table. Despite this, you could still feel everyone’s gaze on you. 

“You should. Hell, I would.” Derek jokes before looking between you and Spencer. “Trying to get a doctorate too. We’ve got a matching set of boy wonder and girl wonder over here.” 

“We’ll be introducing you as Dr. L/n pretty soon, huh?” Elle leans closer towards you, gently hitting your shoulder and causing you to look up at her. 

You smile sheepishly at the rest of the team. “I wouldn’t know about soon. I’ve actually been struggling to finish my dissertation.”

Spencer’s lips part. He feels the need to say something, perhaps some words of encouragement. Maybe he could even offer to help you with your work. Especially considering he had also gone through the process of getting a doctorate. Thrice, in fact. But before he could get a single word out, Hotch’s voice is already filling the briefing room.

“I’m sure we’ll get to know more about agent L/n in the coming days. For now, we have a case to get to.”

___

“This one is yours.” JJ leads you to your desk in the bullpen. Despite it being apparently unoccupied, there's a few piles of folders and loose pieces of paper strewn around. “If you need anything, just let me or Hotch- or the rest of the team really- know. I’ll let you settle in, but remember wheels up in thirty.”

“Got it. Thanks JJ.”

“No problem.” 

You take out a couple of things you know you’d want on your desk from your bag; a couple of cute pen holders, some post-its, a couple of pictures. You feel around your bag and take out a book you were reading. You were wondering why you felt like your bag was unusually heavy. Then again, you were zooming around your apartment earlier in the day as you had slept through your alarm. As a result, you pretty much grabbed the first bag you saw and haphazardly stuffed your things inside.

“Neil Gaiman?”

You hear someone ask from beside you.

“Huh?”

Spencer is standing by your desk, eyes trained on the book in your hand. He tilts his head over across the small aisle that separated yours and his desks and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his pants. “Mine is just over there. It’s hard to miss, people don’t usually bring non case related things to read.”

“Oh, right I actually forgot this was here… I was going to join this book club and I was really excited about it too. But I just found out their meetings coincide with work hours, so now I’ve read this nearly 500 page fantasy novel and no one to talk to about it.”

A beat passes. Then another. A small surge of nervousness goes through your veins. It almost feels like you were oversharing. You were just introduced to the team, they probably didn’t need to know much about what you do outside of work. 

“You can discuss it with me, if you’d like.” He briefly looks down at his feet, almost as if he’s carefully picking his next words. And he was. You were new, but you seemed nice enough. And he didn't mind the idea of taking a breather from discussing cases to discussing books, without said books having to do with a case. He didn't exactly want to come off too strong. “I like to read too. Have you finished?”

“Almost.” You click your tongue, considering his offer. Spencer shifts his weight from side to side, anticipating a response. The corners of your mouth twitches upwards at his earnestness. “That would be nice actually… how much time do you need to finish it? A couple of days or…?”

Spencer takes the book from your desk, flipping through the pages, considering the font size, the writing style. He even raises a brow when he notices the highlights and notes you’ve made across the margins. He hands it back to you with a small smile. “Give or take fifteen minutes.”

“You’re kidding.” You don’t even bother to hide the shock that’s plastered on your face. He’s a profiler, he would have noticed anyway. You flip through the pages yourself, trying to figure out if he was referring to a different book. 

“I’m not.” Spencer shrugs his shoulders. “I mean I would have to buy a copy of my own first, which would have to wait until after the case.”

“Wow.” You let out a low whistle, more impressed than you had been earlier. “I guess it’s settled then. Let me know when you’ve eventually used up those fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, I will.”

“I look forward to it, Dr. Reid.”

“I do too, Agent L/n.”

Penelope Garcia and Derek Morgan watch the interaction from across the bullpen. Derek’s gaze follows Reid as he makes the short walk back to his desk. Spencer scratches the back of his head before quickly looking back across the aisle to where you were sitting. But of course, you were too busy getting your things in order to notice. 

Derek keeps his voice low as he leans closer towards Penelope, crossing his arms across his chest. “Fifty bucks says pretty boy and girl wonder are going to get it on. He confesses first.”

Penelope notices you taking what looks to be a pebble from your pocket and place it by your pen holder, a soft smile spreading across your face as you looked towards Spencer. “Alright. I’ll take that action.”

taglist. @vader-is-hot @akimoons @taygrls <3

a/n. s1 spencer holds a soft spot in my heart goshh anyways- hii! i hope you enjoyed reading this- you know, despite it being mostly introductions >_< thank you for checking it out, and i hope u all have a good day :)

#filed : holy ground. #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid series #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds series

[coollyinterferes]

"Back by unpopular demand:"

"Us!"

#[*trips and falls to the ground like that one pepe frog meme but dramatically explodes into a million pieces instead* hi hi] #[i'll start by apologizing and thanking y'all for your patience bc wheew its been almost 2 months since my last post holy shittt] #[mental health along with intrusive thoughts and stuff have been absolute ass and still are right now] #[not gonna go into much detail bc i'm dealing with tons of bad stuff and negativity but yeah] #[at this point i aint even going to say 'im back!' bc everytime i do some even more terrible shit happens irl so naw] #[i also can't promise thread replies today bc i already know i'll likely not be able to finish any] #[but i will try to at least start working on some of them ;v;] #[other than that please feel free to send in stuff if you wish!] #[i haven't been around in so long that i feel completely rusty and out of the loop rn] #[but i think i'll start with the few asks i was unable to get to last time] #[if you guys who sent them see this: i'm sorry for the super looooong wait and thank you so much for your patience!!! <3] #[hope everyone's having a lovely day/night!!! <3] #;ic #(? #;ooc #(?? #[the world will never truly know *x files music plays*]

[0and0its0doctor0]

Drunk on you

Aaron Hotchner x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, making out

Summary: Aaron has a tough time clearing his head from the horrors he sees at work. Watching you dance around the kitchen in one of his college shirts seems to help.

Word count: 370

Author note: So sorry it has taken me so long to post something. I feel bad it's so short. Please feel free to send any Criminal Minds requests my way!

Aaron let out a heavy sigh as he dropped his head to the steering wheel. His mind was full of morbid photos and case files that were stacking up on his desk. He was trying to clear his head and decompress before he walked into the house. He liked to try to leave all the trauma he had to deal with at the office but sometimes it was hard. He took a deep breath, loosened his tie, and stepped out of the car.

The minute he unlocked the door and stepped inside he set his bag down and couldn’t help but smile when he heard the music coming from the kitchen. He quietly stood in the doorway, leaning against the wall as he watched you dance around the kitchen. His mind cleared and his smile grew when he noticed you were wearing one of his old college shirts and a pair of shorts that didn’t leave much to the imagination. Your hair was in a messy bun, and he just thought you were the most beautiful girl he honestly had ever seen.

You were dancing to the music and didn’t even notice Aaron standing there till you turned and jumped a foot in the air when you saw him. “Holy fuck you are too quiet!” You said with a grin as you practically tackled him to the ground with a hug. You could always tell how hard his day had been by how hard he would hug you back and tonight he was almost breaking your ribs. “I love you. So, fucking much.” He refused to let you go as he walked the two of you to the couch. When he sat, he pulled you into his lap and started to kiss every available inch of skin he could find.

You tilted your head to the side to give him better access. Aaron barely pulled away from you, just enough to slip out of his suit coat. “Babe dinner is going to burn.” You said breathlessly between kisses. “So, we’ll order out.” He said as he started to tug the shirt off your body. “I love you too.” You whispered in his ear as you started to unbutton his shirt. 

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds gen fic #criminal minds fluff #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #fluffy #hotch x reader #fluff #criminal minds fic #criminalminds #criminal minds oc #aaron hotchner imagine

[imaginesheaven]

Medic!reader x TF 141 - friendship headcanons

Warnings: none really; mention of injuries

Captain Price requests especially you for the team since he got a glimpse at your file and got impressed instantly by your skills.

That’s is actually not really  surprising because you are quite the legend under the medics and soldiers. No one knows how you keep so many of your team members alive but you do with a quite high rate. This skill of yours turns you into the most wanted medic probably in the whole British Army.

The team isn’t quite sure how to deal with a medic in their lines. They never had one long enough to get used to them. So, at the beginning everything is a bit awkward for all of you.

Within the first mission you show them that you aren’t only a medic but also a fighter who will give everything to see another day. You even saved Soap’s ass in a quite sassy demeanor.

“Ha, Sarge. You owe me one.” – You wink at him grinning away while the men just share a quite confused but impressed glance.

With that you earned your spot at the Task Force 141 and the respect of their members for the rest of your life.

You love taking care of the boys, but you would never tell them directly. Your preferred love language for them is sassiness in every single situation you can think of.

“How is Soap?”, Price asks as you patch the soldier up, “He will survive … unfortunately. Which is quite the surprise with so much stupidity in him.” – “Hey! I can hear you, Doc.” – “Great, at least you are not deaf so I don’t have to repeat myself…”

Gaz and Ghost keep snickering in the back before you turn around and throw them death glares, “You two are not better than him.”

Captain Price loves that you have to deal with this shit too now in your own way.

Since you are patching them up quite frequently, they are treating you like the Holy Grail itself. You are probably the best protected member of the British Army the world has ever seen.

One of them is always by your side at the battlefield, “We got your back, Doc. Don’t worry~”

You are never worried about your own safety and health. These men would literally jump in front of a bullet for you to keep you alive.

“STOP PUTTING YOURSELF IN DANGER FOR ME! THIS IS EVEN MORE WORK FOR ME!”

Of course, you love them in a platonic way to pieces that they want to keep you safe no matter the cost.

Once on a mission you get knocked out by one of the rookies by accident, “We need a medic!” The poor boy had no idea what he gotten himself into. The team looks at you unconscious on the ground, “THAT IS OUR MEDIC! YOU BRAINLESS PIECE OF …”

Ghost and Price have to hold back Soap and Gaz before the punch the living hell out of the rookie. The poor boy is scarred and traumatized for his life.

Back on the home base they come to you with the tiniest injuries because you are their favorite medic ever.

“What is it, Gaz?” – “Got a paper cut. It hurts.” – “You got … a papercut. Do you want your band-aid with ponies or spider-man?” … “Ponies…”

You already have your first-aid kit ready when Gaz, Soap and sometimes Ghost do stupid shit together.

“Hey, Doc. What’cha doing?”, Price takes the seat next to you. Without a word you hold up the kit and point at the boys, “Working.” Not a second later you already hear the pained cries from one of them. “I have no idea how long you all could survive that long without me…”

Getting the call sign “Doc” from the team even if you had a different one before. Not very creative, but it is short and everyone got used to it way too fast. So, Doc it is.

They would never admit it out loud, but the thought men are scared to lose you as much as you are to lose one of them.

During another mission the enemy got you good with a bullet to your shoulder. There was no way you could take care of it yourself. Since the evac would be in the morning you had a whole night to bleed to death. There was no other way around to save your life.

You gave them a good description and a to-do list how they open the wound to get out the bullet and to patch up afterwards. The hard men watched you with pure fear in their eyes as you get everything ready for them to be the doctors this time.

“You can do this, boys”, you encourage them smiling, but all of you know exactly that your time is running out. They would lose you.

Ghost takes things into his own hands and will be the one getting the bullet out. The Captain stays by his side to assist as best as he could. Gaz and Soap are way too nervous to do anything except for holding onto each other.

“How about you two take care of the watch?”, Price gives them an order to get their nervous energy out of his reach. Of course, they would watch from afar instead of keeping their eyes on the windows.

The pain of opening the wound to get the bullet out of your shoulder gets the best of you. Nothing comes over your lips as you slump forward unconscious. Nothing has panicked these men ever before like your blacked out form not able to guide them through every little step.

At least you couldn’t hear the wave of curse words washing over you. Of course, they still manage to patch you up quite nicely and take care of you. You are wrapped up in jackets to make you comfortable as they watch you through the night.

“Shit, I have never done something scarier than this…”, Ghost couldn’t believe you are doing this so often never getting tired of it. You already earned all of their respect beforehand, but once again they are reminded how amazing you are.

“Doc didn’t even scream just passed out silently”, Gaz can’t imagine how painful that must have been. Secretly he wished to be tough like you one day.

“… Why are you all staring at me? You are so creepy”, it isn’t the best way to wake up with four men staring at you intensely like they did. Still you are very grateful that they saved your ass.  

Back home you pay for the first round of drinks since you are alive and get to see another day with your team.

#mw x reader #cod x reader #price x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #mw headcanons #john price #kyle garrick #kyle garrick x reader #john mactavish #john mactavish x reader #simon riley #task force 141 #cod headcanons #mw2 #mw2 x reader #friendship headcanons

[baestruly]

i'll be there

( ⋫ 𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖔𝖘𝖘𝖎 )  spencer reid x reader

⤷ IN WHICH, you're stressed with work, but spencer is there to help you

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 - hurt x comfort, fluff

The caress of sweet, warm sunlight might have been a balm on your skin, had it not been for the relentless pressure trapped within your head ━━ a tumultuous symphony of pounding echoes and silent screams.

The evening sun lashed out like a fiery whip, scorching your vision as you massaged wearied eyes, only to stir the relentless ache burrowing deeper within your head.

It wasn’t just the sunlight causing you to be in distress, it was the amount of paperwork you still had to get done. Even though you’ve been trying to multitask all week, you had to do it on the plane while also managing to find leads or behaviours on the criminals while also having to run home to your apartment because you received a text from your dog sitter ━━ who you pay probably too much, to look after your new dog saying he had ripped the whole place apart. Your needs, blankets, almost all of your pillows and of course, the couch!

Your therapist had recommended you get a job because of the stress you have been under for your new job. Yeah, new. Maybe that’s why you seemed like the odd one out because everyone was so much more experienced than you were. Of course, they had to start somewhere, but you felt like a rookie beside them, especially the smartest one, Spencer Reid, only having been on the force for around a month. 

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, the voices were getting to be too much. 

You’re a failure, you’ll never be as good as them! Get your head straight, you’re not thinking like a profiler, there's so much going on! It goes on and on and on━━

“Y/N?” 

Someone's voice snaps you from your thoughts, all of them shattering like glass as they scrape your skull. It bled, just like the blood on the floor of that poor girl━━

“Y/N? Hey━━hey, hey, hey, what’s the matter?” His voice was tinged with a palpable mixture of concern and fear, the words tumbling from him like a cascade of worry. He was closer now, having his shaky but reassuring hand on your arm. You weren’t able to feel the warmth because of the thick knitted sweater you wore for the colder months of November.

His eyes spiralled, reading every inch of expression on your face. By now, he could’ve figured it out and profiled you on his own━━hell, it wouldn’t even take a profiler to tell how stressed out you were, goddammit. But, he waited patiently, letting you know he was here despite his efforts to stay calm to keep you calm.

It wasn’t working.

 Spencer has always been the hesitant and shy type. Not when it came to his interests━━which were mostly about anything, really━━or profiling, but when it came to feelings, emotion or conversations, the poor guy was clueless.

Deep down you knew he had a good heart. You don’t think you’ve admired someone this much before, especially a friend.

You tried to stare into his eyes, but the voices in your head started again. This time, it wasn’t about the dog or your cold case, or even the bloody walls of the family home you’d visited on Wednesday.

You suddenly realized how terrified you were of dumping this on Spencer. The stress of this moment was too much, he was waiting for an answer and you couldn’t just stand there! Like that statue━━no, you couldn’t do that, not now.

“I━━I’m fine, Spencer.” You sprung from your seat, quickly pacing and turning your back to him as you picked up a few files from where you had been frantically working at your desk, giving yourself something to focus on other than the voices in your head and walls that were starting to crumble behind your eyes.

Like the crumpling statue on the ground.

You clenched your teeth. You needed to focus to get your shit done and get home in time to be able to sleep and eat! You haven't eaten anything all day?! Holy shit━━

Spencer stood in confusion and worry. His mind started scrambling thinking of ways to go about the situation. You’d think when it came to profiling he’d know exactly what to do or say that may help you or set you off, but when it came to you, the closest friend he’s ever made in less than a month, he was clueless, he didn’t want to make things worse.

Profiling was different, he didn’t know those people. 

He knew you.

And he guesses that his greatest fear at that moment was seeing you in distress, and not knowing what to do that would make it better. 

The girl's body lay limp in the bedroom. The throat detached like the grey, morbid statue, symbolizing nothing like the bloody corpse of who was once a bright happy girl, the soul ripped away from her.

You continued to pace around the room, grabbing your hair and clearing your throat. 

“Is there━━um, anything you want me to do? I’ll do it, Y/N just are—are you okay? Talk to me.”

You stopped, finally facing him, and that’s when Spencer could finally see your face.

But your eyes were red, like you had been crying before and bags were deeply engraved under your eyes as your hair became messier each time you ran your shaky hand through it. 

His heart broke a little. 

“I j━━just,��okay━━I have a dog, the sitters have been calling me all week!” You shouted in frustration. Spencer blinked, startled, but he listened, brows furrowing. “Now she’s not there━━and I can’t even use my bed let alone the━━the couch and━━this case has gone cold, now we have another one and there’s just so many dead ends━━“ You stopped.

Silence.

“I just need everything to stop.” That’s it, the walls be damned because you couldn’t fucking hold it anymore no matter how hard you fought. And you think it’s safe to say you’ve fought hard enough this week. “I need to just shut my mind off.”

Your voice cracked as your breaths heaved in and out of your chest, somewhat relieved to get it all out. Now that your thoughts become your words, it only makes them more real.

You couldn’t breathe at all, every inhale you took as you doubled over in panic and distress didn’t fill your lungs, which only made your eyes widen with fear as your heart thundered in your ears. 

“Crap━━(Y/N), breathe with me alright? Okay, just one breath in━━" Spencer ran to your side, leading you to the sofa as he kneeled in front of you so his face was in your view. “Breathe out, nice and slow, you got it.” 

Your breath shook viscously with each inhale you took, but Spencer didn’t mind, nor did he seem to care about how crazy you thought you looked right now. Instead, he nodded at you with encouraging eyes when you opened yours, trying to find balance in his presence while he slowly and gently rubbed his thumb on the side of your cold hands.

“I’m good, I’m good.” You choke out with one last exhale now that your breathing seems to go back to normal. You were still out of breath as the lump in your throat remained.

“Hey, I know, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” He says softly but reassuringly, eyes glistening with concern and admiration for your efforts. Your bold personality always interested him, that’s why he’d been so shocked to see you in a state like this. Although you were bold, you seemed to close yourself off when it came to emotions. “Now, you’re fine with this today, alright?”

“No, I n━━“

He shushed you gently. “I know, Emily’s got it for you for the rest of the night. You need rest.”

You weren’t sure what was happening, but you followed Spencer to his car before feeling a sense of relief to be away from the office for a moment as the cold air from outside turned warmer with every second you sat in the seat with him. It was oddly comforting, and you breathed deeply, finding it easier to control it now. 

But of course, it all hit you.

“God━━Spence, I am so so sorry, shit━━"

“No! No, it’s okay, believe me when I say this, you have nothing to be sorry for.” He blinked a few times before scrunching his nose. “90 percent of people struggling do not speak up because, well, they’re scared of judgement, the other half of it being embarrassment when really, we have nothing to be embarrassed of. Everyone feels, you know. It’s basically impossible for all of us bring in our positions in this job to not be affected by the tragedies we see.”

“Wow, Spencer Reid, as a genius profiler I would’ve expected you to know not everyone feels.” She let out a breathy laugh, the skin under your eyes feeling dry from your tears. 

Spencer felt better that you were trying to lighten the mood. He smiled softly looking down at his hands as he nodded. “You know what I mean!” 

“Yes, Reid, I do.” You smiled back. “So, where are we going?”

“When you’re stressed out it’s better to do things that keep your mind away from it.” He starts. You knew that too. “Doing something peaceful is another effective way.”

“Sounds perfect.” You sighed a sigh of relief, leaning your head back slightly so it touched the seat. You felt reassured knowing Reid was here with you and was willing to help. Maybe all you needed was an extra hand, instead of putting more problems on yourself.

“Reid?” You say, hesitantly turning to look at him. You could feel the admiration luring out of them. “Thank you.”

He smiled, eyes thoughtful. “Of course. I want to help you.”

Although you remained seated, you encircled him in an awkward yet secure embrace, needing to convey just how grateful you were for his presence in that moment and in your life.

“Your heart━━it’s beating really fast.” You say softly once you pull away from his warm embrace. “You sufre you’re not stressed about anything right now?” 

“Well━━there, uh, maybe one thing.” He stuttered, as his nervous but warm hands cupped your face, his thumb glinting across your skin much like the time back at the BAU when he held your hand during your panic attack. 

“Wouldn’t take a profiler to figure it out.” You whispered, your lips softly pressing against his, delicate and soft. He kissed you as if you were fragile and his hand was the only thing keeping you together as his lips moved against yours. His hand moved into your hair, caressing your head hoping his kisses could make all your pain go away.

You could sense his smile against yours, lips stretching into a thin line of joy, as your laughter tangled messily with his. Admiration was pumping through your veins, but nothing compared to the love pumping in your rapidly beating heart, all your stress being replaced with warmth and admiration.

If Spencer became the air that filled your lungs, the very breath of your existence, you'd no longer need to learn how to breathe.

a/n: that was my first time writing for spencer so pls be nice!!

i haven't wrote in a while but i'm happy to be back! please request anything for spencer in my request box

spencer reid masterlist           masterlist

also request anything! 

#spencer reid one shot #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #reid #oneshot #imagine #fanfic #spencer reid fluff #fics

[stereotypicalsanriofemme]

Staggered moans draw from your butch’s chest as you watch her heave, drunk on the air that was your scent. It was that god forsaken time of year— mating season. The time of year where you got wet from the slightest motion from your alpha, and the time of year where it was impossible to not have her hands all over you. It always culminates at one point or another; a pot boiling over, a tea kettle finally screaming. A rut or a heat: whichever was drawn out first of the other.

“Hey, darling,” you said, taking a gentle step forward. Her teeth bare a little more at the small advance and she takes one step back, as if it was a practiced dance. “Are…you okay?”

“Baby,” she whined between slightly-elongated canines. “I…fuck, I didn’t expect it to hit so soon…”

“It’s okay,” you encouraged, giving her a soft smile, hand reaching out. “Is it your rut?”

What a diminutive question. Of course it was— the fucking smell of her arousal, strong like musk with cedarwood and citrus, permeated the whole damn room. No shit that she was in rut.

She gave a pained nod. “You…should probably go,” she said, pausing irregularly as if it hurt to just be in your presence. “I don’t…want to hurt you.”

She was always like this. Too kind, too caring, too perfect. She was the dream alpha for any yearning omega and you somehow lucked out with her, having her in your hands for six months now and going. You knew heats were inevitable, no different than the seasons changing. You just wanted to give her back the love and care she’s given you.

“Baby,” you said, voice quiet. “I want to help you out, please—“

“Absolutely not.” She snarled, and okay, that made some slick leak out of your sensitive cunt. Filing that away in a box for a later moment, you listen to her: “I could hurt you— fuck, I could bite you and force you to me for years, baby. I could make you bleed, I could force you through pain and I’d be too far gone to realize what I’ve done. You’re so perfect, I just don’t want to hurt you—“

“Why do you think as if I’m made of glass?!” You interject. “Please, I just want to help you this cycle. I don’t want to see you suffer, baby, please…”

Her expression is pained. “I… are you sure?” She asked, wavering. “I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt you, Angel…”

“Alpha,” you cried, and holy shit; the wood doorframe your butch used to hold herself up fucking splintered and cracked under her grasp.

“Bedroom,” she growled, and in a trance from those words alone, you scurry to the bedroom with her close behind you.

The door slammed in time with her crashing her mouth against yours, grasping and squeezing your jaw open. The pressure on your face forced a high-pitched whine out of your throat as her tongue forced into your mouth, licking over every ounce of your being. She’s pressed so fucking close to you, and oh, fuck, is that her cock pressed against your leg because that feels way bigger than usual—

“God, I love you so much,” she moaned while kissing you, biting down your neck while you fumbled with the buttons on your shirt. Your hands were quickly shoved out of the way the second she tore open your blouse, buttons popping to the ground.

“Hey!” You exclaimed, looking tragically at the buttons on the floor. “I really liked that shirt—“

“I’ll buy you a new one for every time you make me come with that pretty little cunt of yours,” she gritted out, and a whimper escaped your throat as she grabbed you from the thighs and hoisted you up against the wall. Another kiss is ripped from you with her hand against your throat, making you go just a bit limp from how damn good it feels, and all of a sudden you’re being tossed onto the bed like a doll. You look up after the impact of the fall with eager eyes, and see the normal rut glow in her eyes dissipate for just a second.

“Fuck, are you okay?!” She exclaimed, rushing over to you.

“Yes, more than okay,” you encouraged, rubbing her arm. “It’s all okay, baby, don’t force yourself out of a rut for me. I can take it.”

She’s shaking from anxiety, you realize. “Are you sure?” She murmured. “I‘ll…probably be really rough…”

“And that’s a problem how?” You teased. Spreading your legs to show off the panties between your legs wet with slick, you grinned. “C’mon, pretty boy. Show me what a big bad alpha can do, yeah?”

She puffed out air as she moved towards the dresser instead of you, yanking out a clanking, metal contraption.

“Handcuffs? Ooh, kinky,” you teased.

“They’re for me,” she said, and your eyebrows rose a little. “I just…can’t risk hurting you, so please. Handcuff me to the bed. Please,” she begged.

Wordlessly, you nodded, and she moved slowly to the bed and laid down, hands above her head. You affixed the handcuffs above her head, watching her clench them into fists over and over.

“You…want me to ride you?” You murmured, and she nodded desperately.

“Please,” she groaned, grinding into the air, eyes getting that typical alpha glow in them again. “I need some fucking relief from it all, so please baby…”

Thank god for the fact you self lubricated, because the moment you took her pants off you noticed her cock was at least an inch longer than usual and much thicker. You slid the head of her cock between your folds and you moaned together, her at the slick warmth of your cunt and you at the thickness prodding at your entrance. With a deep breaths you pressed the thickness into the entrance and whined upon feeling yourself get stretched open, the utter girth of her cock pressing against every sensitive spot in your pussy. The friction of her cock inside and rubbing your walls was quickly interrupted once you bottomed out, entrance pressing against the extra bulge at the bottom of her cock. Oh fuck, that was her knot.

It was your turn to be breathing heavy, eyes watering from the length inside of you and the way you could feel her pulse and throb inside your tight cunt. “Alpha,” you whined, twitching from the feeling inside. “You’re so big…”

“Jesus fucking Christ, baby, your pussy feels so damn good,” she heaved, hips bucking up ever so slightly into the warm hole. You made a pathetic little chirp at every upward thrust into your cunt, biting onto your lip like a lifeline. The cock was still so overwhelming but you hesitantly lifted up yourself on your legs, trembling with all of your strength before dropping down again with a wet smack.

The noise ripped out of your alpha’s chest was feral, a moan combined with a half-roar, grinding into the perfect, needy hole wrapping around it. You could smell it in the air with how her scent got more intense by the second— she was losing her mind to her rut. Her hands were struggling more against the handcuffs as her hips rut up and up again in your hole. You knew damn well that just rutting wouldn’t be enough for the relief she needed…

And you know what, maybe the idea that popped into your mind wasn’t your best one yet, but my god, did it sound so good. You had only heard the filthy line in your brain spewed in pornos, moaned by needy omegas getting their cunts pumped till they cried. Yet…

“Alpha,” you sobbed out, “breed me, please!”

Her eyes shot open wide with a loud crack in the background. The sound of metal breaking into two clean pieces. You were instantly flipped on your back, legs shoved next to your ears, and shit, talk about something from porn because you were in a fucking mating press. In a mating press, like the good little omega bitch you were, with an alpha’s cock pressed into your cunt, the head kissing your cervix.

The pace she started immediately was relentless, depraved. She fucked you with the hunger of a man starved, your lower back no longer on the bed as she drilled into your pussy over and over.

“Slutty fucking omega,” she growled, letting her knot slap against your rim and balls smack against you over and over again. “You probably wanted this the whole time, didn’t you?”

“Yes!! Fuck, yes, yes, yes, alpha! Please—!” You exclaimed in ecstasy, nails dragging down her back, leaving reddened trails as a trophy for the next morning. “Wan’ your cock, alpha, pleaaaase!”

“‘Course you did, you fucking slut,” she groaned into your ears, thrusting into you with your sweet slick coating her cock, leaning everywhere. “You want my cum? Yeah?”

“Yes!” You shrieked, clinging closer. “Please, alpha, give me your cum!”

“Yeah? Wanna be a good little breeding bitch for me?” She moaned, thrusting into your pussy with a newfound aggression. “Carry my fucking litter? Huh? Wanna take my litter and give alpha some pups?”

You can only moan brokenly in response as her cock continued to batter your cervix, your legs still pressed next to your ears. Maybe this was your place. Maybe you were meant to be a good, warm hole for a big, strong alpha; a dripping bitch in heat to be taken care of and always pumped full of cum.

“C’mon, omega, take my fucking knot,” she growled, and only then do you feel the bulging in her cock grow larger and larger, smacking against your entrance and bullying its way into your pussy. An unfamiliar sensation creeped up into your body— a tightness in your cunt, a burning sensation.

“Alpha, wait, wait, wait, alpha,” you cry brokenly, clutching against her back and holding right as the knot grew bigger and bigger, entering your cunt with every thrust, “Somethin’s coming out, alpha—!”

She was so out of it, teeth bared and staring at you like you were prey. And all of a sudden, that burning feeling snapped, and you squirted. The fluid splattered as your ears rang the moment hee knot popped inside, your cunt finally stretched open and plugged with her fat knot locking her cum inside of your pussy. Everything was hazy; your orgasm milking more and more cum out of her cock that shot inside of you. It was a pleasant warmth inside of you. You felt satisfied, as if you had a purpose. You felt full.

Your panting breaths slow down over time with hers, clutching each other post-orgasm. She nuzzled your neck with the comedown, knot shoved inside of you, keeping the cum where it’s supposed to be. Just the thought made you a little more horny— the knot was there to make sure you got knocked up with your alpha’s litter. It didn’t sound like a bad idea at this point, spending some much time with your alpha, forever…the idea makes another wet gush of slick come out around her cock. However, this time it felt like a lot more, like your body was preparing itself for—

Your alpha suddenly goes still from scenting you.

“Omega…did you just start your heat?”

…it was going to be a long week.

[made 4 lesbians, lesbians interact :3 straight people this fantasy was not made for you please DNI]

#I cannot believe I fucjing wrote omegaverse bye #lesbian nsft #sapphic nsft #wlw nsft #nsft #lesbian #butch bait #sapphic #butch lesbian #femme bait #femme princess #high femme #femme4butch #butch4femme #stone butch #if this flops I will never emotionally recover

[serverusslaype]

Shameless, pt. 15

Severus Snape x professor!reader fic

Shameless Masterpost

hey guys.................. dont kill me. i'm so sorry for the incredibly lengthy hiatus.... i had no motivation, each time i opened the file to type i'd type a couple words, maybe a paragraph and close it. i finally found the motivation to finish this chapter recently, i'm hoping it stays. it's been a rough couple months, so hoping this can help me feel a bit better!!

i felt really guilty for sort of abandoning the fic where it was, but i couldn't force myself to write anything, there was no creative juice, i think i sort of burnt myself out. and for the previous posts saying i was back, i thought i was, but i'd have the smallest spark of inspiration and try to write, but then nothing happened, and i felt bad so i didn't want to say something like, sorry, i lied. :(

hopefully this chapter is okay, i know most of you won't like it, but i'm so glad i finally finished it, it was one of the hardest to write because i had so many ideas on how it'd end and effect the whole story itself, so i had to make sure it made sense.

i can't believe you guys are still here after so long, it made me emotional to see all of your asks and comments and likes, i was just floored to be honest, so thank you so much for your unwavering support. i love you all so so much. honestly. holy shit. this has been a journey. <3 i hope you guys are all doing brilliantly.

warnings: lack of snape, swearing, mentions of adultery, slight domestic violence, verbal abuse at the end

You didn't know where to go. You felt... lost. You couldn't exactly go back to your quarters, not with Ben there, you didn't need more questions about why you were crying your eyes out at this time of night. It's not like you could tell him the truth.

So, you did what anyone would: go for a midnight walk. Well, at least that's what you thought anyone would do when they had nowhere to go. You'd hoped that the fresh, cold air would soothe your burning lungs, and the gentle breeze would dry your teary eyes. In an even deeper, darker part of your mind, you also hoped that Black would find you. Perhaps that would make everything... easier.

With tears still streaming freely from your eyes and heavy feet, you padded towards the large, magnificent doors that led to the outside with your arms wrapped around your body tightly; trying your best not to breakdown until you were alone. Your hands were still shaking as you pushed them against the doors, opening it a tad as the cool wind blew through the crack and into your face. You gasped a little at the sharp breeze, but nonetheless you slipped out, and made your way into the courtyard. The temperature was a little more biting than you had anticipated, and so you squeezed your arms around yourself a little tighter, walking towards the infamous wooden, crooked bridge.

As you sauntered through the courtyard, the only noises you heard were the owls hooting in the distance, the gentle breeze brushing through the burnt-amber leaved trees and the faint clack of your heels against the cobblestoned ground. In all honesty, it did feel a little eerie to the say the least, but at this very moment that was the least of your worries. All you wanted was a little time alone to cry, or grieve what could have been with ...Severus.

Gods, it hurt to even think his name, let alone speak it.

You reached the wooden bridge, and you stopped in the middle of it; leaning against the intricately carved columns to gaze out at the highlands. The moonlight casted a gorgeous glaze-like reflection upon the Black Lake, and it twinkled beautifully, almost hypnotising you like an illusion. Your eyes flicked up to the moon and glanced around it, staring at the glittering stars surrounding it like a perfect painting. Only times like this did you miss teaching Astronomy. As your mind reeled back to your first year teaching at Hogwarts, you relished in the time where you did not know the man named Severus Snape, and suddenly your heart sank in your chest like an anchor dropped at sea. You were so naive back then, unknowing of what was to come.

As the memories of you and Severus flooded your mind like a dam breaking, you let yourself cry. You could still feel his lips on yours, his fingertips gently tracing the curves and grooves of your skin, the words he'd whispered into your ear - it was all there, stained on your skin, like a tattoo - or perhaps a branding. And now you had to live with it. You weren't sure if you'd survive this time, especially not with how deeply you felt for him. You were torn between pretending he didn't exist and trying to talk to him, perhaps even telling him how you felt, but truth be told you were petrified of how he'd react. Would he even look at you again with those glittering black eyes you'd come to adore so hopelessly? Would he dare speak to you again, knowing that he'd charmed you? Maybe he'd relish in the fact that he'd done so, take pride in bewitching you, and make you hurt for it. You knew Snape could be rather cruel, your school days here with him as your teacher was enough for you to know that.

All these unanswered questions swam through your head and you felt yourself becoming suffocated from them, and it suddenly felt as if your lungs had filled with water, drowning you. You sobbed helplessly as you slid down the wooden wall behind you with your hands against your face, the rough edges scratching your back through your clothes rather uncomfortably.

"Y/N?" A voice came from beside you, and you froze. You turned your head away from them and quickly used your sleeve to wipe your eyes, drying the tears that had fallen from them. Only one person has a voice as soft as the one you had just heard.

You gave yourself a moment to gather yourself before even attempting to use your voice.

"Hello, Remus." You croaked quietly, sniffling.

"What on Earth are you doing out here so late?" He questioned gently, and you heard him take a step towards you. "Are you alright?"

"Quite dandy," you sarcastically quipped, sighing deeply, "I'm brilliant..." You turned your head to face him, and immediately, his face softened at the sight of your own. You were sat up against the side of the bridge, knees up against your chest and your arms wrapped around them; nose and eyes red, wet with tears. Remus quickly dropped down to his knees beside you, placing a soothing hand upon your forearm.

"What happened?" Remus asked, careful to keep his voice quiet and soft. With empty eyes, you stared into his worried ones, and instantly you felt terrible. The last thing you wanted was people worrying over you.

You looked away, down at the ground. "I..." you mumbled, sighing, "it's a... long... story." You spoke slowly. From the corner of your eye, you saw a small smile quirk up on Remus's lips.

"I've got time, my dear." He replied as his thumb brushed your forearm, silently encouraging you to talk. You felt at ease in Remus's presence, it was almost like he had a calm aura around him, and naturally your body relaxed beside his. You took a deep breath.

"Erm," you choked, sniffling again, "it's Se... Snape." You couldn't bring yourself to say his first name without crumbling into a million pieces.

Remus let out a gentle breath. "Snape, of course," He tutted, glancing between you and the ground. "What's he done?" The fact that Remus reacted like he had expected Snape to have hurt you, further broke your heart. Were you the only one to have seen through his icy exterior?

"Broken my heart," You laughed dryly, and you had to fight back another bout of tears. Remus's brows furrowed in confusion at you. "We... I... Look, I'm not sure how to explain this to you. But... I fell..." You trailed off, unable to finish your sentence. Your heart hurt too much. You only hoped that Remus knew what you were about to say.

Remus blinked and stared at you, shocked. Clearly, the two of you had hidden your 'relationship' well - so well that everyone was oblivious to it. "You fell...?" He frowned.

"In love... with him..." You almost whispered, avoiding Remus's eyes. You weren't sure if you'd be able to handle the look in them.

"You're in love with... Severus?" Remus repeated, and you squeezed your eyes shut at his words. They were like daggers, stabbing your bleeding heart. It was almost like you could feel it trembling inside of your chest, begging you to free it from this cycle of torment. "But... Aren't you with... Ben? And... Severus... he's..."

"I know," you sighed, noticing his confusion, "I had feelings for Severus before I met Ben. And it sort of just, like, spiralled out of control, and now, erm, here I am- Gods, I should have just listened to Minerva, I wouldn't be here right now, hurting like this." You ranted, another strangled sob leaving your throat. Remus watched you, and his eyes softened. He felt terrible for you. "She warned me, Remus, why didn't I just listen to her?!" You cried, letting your head fall into your hands.

"Y/N," Remus whispered, reaching out a cautious hand to pry your face from your hands. With a soft gasp, you looked up with teary eyes, and he wiped a stray tear from your cheek. "We don't get to choose who we do and don't fall in love with. We follow our hearts blindly, most of the time, unknowingly." He said, and moved his hand from your wet cheek to your shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. "It's beyond our control who we love."

There was a moment of silence.

"...What do I do, Remus?" You sobbed softly, sniffling, looking at your knees.

"Have you told him?"

"No."

"I think you should."

"But what about Ben? Shouldn't I... deal with... that first?" You sniffled again. "And what if Severus doesn't feel the same way about me? Then what?"

Remus paused for a moment, thinking. You looked up at him. "What if he does?" He said, a small, comforting smile tickling his lips as he stared at you.

"Well- from the way he treated me earlier... I truly doubt it, Remus." You scoffed, glancing away from his pitying brown eyes.

Remus sighed, and you clenched your jaw. "Regret is a terrible thing, Y/N," he said, "it's such a short word, yet it stretches on forever." Your eyes were glued on the ground and your body was still, but your mind was running a million miles an hour.

You sat there in silence for a short moment, thinking deeply. Remus was right. You'd regret it for the rest of your life if you didn't tell Severus how you felt. That chance of him reciprocating your feelings was small, but it was still there. If he didn't feel the same, fine, you'd move on. Eventually. And if he did?...

"...Alright," You nodded sheepishly. "I'll tell him. I just... need to, erm, work out when and more specifically, how. Like, do I just straight up blurt it out? Work my way up to it? H-how do you know it's the right time?" You rambled with tears still falling from your eyes, glancing through them at Remus who sat beside you with a soft expression upon his features.

"You'll know." Was all he said before slowly standing and holding out a hand for you to take. Graciously, you took it, and Remus pulled you to your feet. "Feel better?" He hummed, casting a glance out at the moon, then a worried look suddenly struck his eyes. You noticed and frowned slightly at his behaviour.

The moon?

"A little." You forced a smile upon your lips, and lifted up a hand to wipe the remaining stray tears upon your red cheeks. Remus looked back at you, and returned your smile. "How come you were out so late?" You asked curiously, brushing off his odd reaction to seeing a moon.

"A walk in the night does me good," Remus shrugged, and began to walk back towards the castle with you beside him. "Clears my head."

"Ah, well, I suppose I'm glad you found me, then." You chuckled awkwardly, folding your arms against your chest.

Remus smiled at you and placed an arm around your shoulders, giving you a squeeze. "Let's get you back to your quarters, Y/N, you look like an ice block." He hummed and lead you back to the castle, but not before throwing another glance over his shoulder to the almost-full-moon.

Faint, footsteps trailed down an empty corridor, and a billowing black cape followed with it. As Severus marched, his chest felt horribly heavy, almost like there was a boulder chained to it, weighing him down. He couldn't figure out why he felt like this, and it was starting to make him a little irate. He knew it was something to do with you since it had started after you'd stormed out of his office.

As Severus was about to round a corner, the sound of familiar, sweet laughter rattled through his bones, and immediately he froze. Without a doubt, he knew it was you. Only you could have laughter that sounded like the sweet songs that birds chirped in the summer mornings. The breath in his lungs suddenly vanished and he quickly swooped himself behind a bookcase, poking his head out from the side of it to see who you were with.

The moment you appeared, that boulder chained to his chest became heavier, and he felt himself lean against the bookcase he hid behind. Severus's eyes widened as they glued themselves to the man beside you - Remus Lupin. His blood boiled at the sight.

What could have Lupin have said to make you laugh like that? He'd only heard you laugh like that when you were with him, not Lupin.

From a distance, he couldn't make out what the two of you were talking about, but it was obviously hilarious. Severus's jaw clenched as he watched Lupin place a hand upon the small of your back, guiding you.

Guiding you... inside your quarters?

Snape hissed silently to himself as he stared, his sharp and hardened eyes welded to the back of Lupin's head like molten metal. As your door shut, Snape could only huff in disgust with bared teeth. What were the two of you doing in there? It was past midnight and you and Lupin seemed happy as Larry to go into your quarters. Snape couldn't bear the idea of you and Lupin alone together - let alone the fact that Lupin had had his damned, grubby paws on you. Severus clenched his jaw in a violent fashion, very clearly upset at how you'd moved on so quickly, especially with another professor at Hogwarts. Was this your thing? Bewitch every lonely professor that you laid your wretched eyes upon and then move onto the next? Did it make you feel better about yourself in some fucked up way?

An uneasy, bitter feeling twisted inside of his chest as he pictured the two of you alone and he whipped around out of spite; the swoosh of his long, black cloak filling the silent hallway. How could you move on so quickly, so... easily? 

"Never did I think I'd see the day that someone told me they fell in love with a man like Severus Snape." Remus laughed softly as he waddled to your sofa, glancing at you as if to ask if it was alright to sit. You nodded at him.

"And yet here we are." You hummed with a flat mouth, clearly not as amused as your friend was. "Sometimes I wish I was as emotionally guarded as he was, but then I remember how bloody miserable that would be." You mumbled, earning an abrupt laugh from Lupin who'd settled on the couch with a soft sigh.

Ben was nowhere to be seen, so you assumed he was asleep in the bedroom.

"Severus is an interesting character, most definitely," Lupin nodded and you turned around, walking towards him to join him on the sofa. "And I applaud you for being able to tame him. If it's any consolation, only one other woman had been able to, though I think it was... unintentional, if you will."

"Unintentional?" You questioned, your tone curious. Though almost instantly, that curiosity was killed as the thought of Severus with another woman stabbed at your fragile heart. "Actually, I'm not sure if I want to hear this right now." A dry laugh slipped from your lips and you exhaled sharply as another wave of tears prickled at your waterline.

"Alright." Lupin said softly, taking notice of your quivering voice. He stood up with a breathy groan and shuffled towards you, slinking an arm around your shoulders to pull you into his chest. It was calming, and the way he hugged you reminded you of all the times your parents would comfort you as a child. As Lupin gave you a supportive squeeze, it was as if he'd accidently pushed the button for the waterworks - hot tears began to stream down your cheeks once again, and you sobbed quietly into his wrinkled shirt.

"Hey," Lupin sighed as he watched your shoulders shake with sorrow. His hand sat on the top of your arm, squeezing it gently: a dire attempt at consoling you. "Don't cry, Y/N, it'll pass."

"Idon'twantitto-" You mumbled into his shirt, sniffling loudly. Lupin's brows furrowed together in confusion as he paused for a brief moment, silently trying to decipher what you'd just said.

"What?" He asked gently, leaning his head down so he could hear you a little better. You lifted your head from him, sighing, another heartbreaking sniffle sneaking out of your reddened nose.

"I don't want it to." You repeated yourself, lifting a hand up to wipe your wet eyes lazily.

"I know. But it will." Lupin sighed too. "Severus is... a very... damaged man," He cringed slightly at his choice of words, but he continued, "I'm not even sure that you could help him- or fix him."

At this point, you were staring soullessly at the floor, and the only thing you could feel was Lupin's chest against your shoulders. Were you and Severus really a lost case? You felt like you'd made so much progress, he'd opened up to you, he'd... he also ran away again. Perhaps your friend Remus is right.

"I think I want to be alone." You suddenly blurted out, slowly glancing up at the professor with glossy, red eyes. Lupin blinked at you, confused for a moment, though he quickly came to. He didn't blame you for saying such a thing - you'd just had your heart ripped out, to put it simply.

Remus didn't say anything, he only nodded, offering you a kind, yet pitiful smile - and that hurt you slightly. You didn't want his pity, in fact, you didn't want anyone's pity. "If you need anything, you know where to find me." He muttered, brushing a hand through your hair softly. You shut your eyes for a moment and sighed, a small gush of guilt filling your body. Here Lupin was, trying to console you, and you're kicking him out. You hoped he didn't take it personally.

"I'm sorry, I... I just need to be alone." You quickly offered. Remus shook his head and frowned at you.

"No, I understand. See you in the morning, Y/N. Feel better soon." The professor smiled at you and this time it wasn't rich with pity, but kindness. He tipped his head at you and began to shuffle his way towards the door, opening it with a quiet creak from the oak. Before he disappeared out of your chambers, Remus turned around and smiled at you once more, slipping away.

Seconds after the door shut, a drowsy-looking Ben opened your bedroom door, popping his head out. He squinted at the bright light, clearly having just woken up. That settled your nerves slightly, since you'd just spoken about Severus with Remus, only a few metres away from Ben.

"Are you crying?" Ben yawned, his bushy brows furrowed in either confusion or annoyance - at this point you couldn't tell.

"No," You coughed and turned around to pretend to do something else as you wiped at your eyes. "I'm fine, go back to bed, Ben." A curt sigh fell from your lips, and almost immediately you heard footsteps padding closer to you. "I'm fine." You repeated, listening as his feet stopped behind you.

"What happened?" Ben asked, the tiniest hint of sympathy in his voice made you shiver slightly.

"Nothing, it was just a rough day at work, honestly. I'd rather not talk about it." Your brows shot together as you tried to keep the tears at bay, but you couldn't help but think about Severus as Ben placed a hand on your waist in an attempt to pry you away from the countertop and towards him. You didn't want anyone else's hands on you but his.

"Hey," Ben said softly, though it felt heavy in your chest. "It's work. It won't matter in a day or two." You were silent. "Y/N?"

"I need a drink." You muttered and forced yourself to look at Ben, cringing slightly as you walked past him and towards a glossy wooden cabinet in the corner of your chambers. You rarely drank, and if you did, it was to either celebrate something, or forget something.

Another uncomfortable silence fell on top of the pair of you.

"Want one?" You asked with no emotion in your voice.

Ben hesitated for a moment, his groggy eyes staring at the back of your figure, silently trying to deduce you. "...Sure."

You were going to regret this.

You'd changed into comfier clothes, more specifically a pair of forest green silk shorts and a matching camisole top. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you faced Ben as he was sat on the windowsill opposite you, nursing his glass of wine. After a few strong sips, the pair of you were chatting and reminiscing like old pals. "Remember that time when I turned Peter Kipling into a weasel in McGonagall's class?" Ben giggled drunkenly, elbowing you gently as you nodded with tears in your eyes, an amused grin spread across your face.

"Oh my- I forgot about that!" You wheezed, smacking your lips together. "Didn't you get... like... at least- like a month's detention for that?" You laughed, slurring, taking another sip of your glass of Elven wine. You winced slightly at the strong aftertaste as it burned your throat. That was to be your last drink, you couldn't take much more.

"Ohh, yeah, I d-id," Ben hiccuped, his laughter dying out as he sighed; his tired eyes falling onto you. Shuffling under his gaze, you felt slightly uncomfortable. A brief yet thick silence suddenly engulfed the two of you like a slow-burning fire. Ben stood from where he'd been sat, stumbling over to where you were, stopping just in front of your knees.

"I miss talkin' to you, Y/N." He sighed, taking his hand and placing it upon your cheek; carressing the apple of it with his rough thumb. The strong scent of alcohol on his breath made you gag a tad - you were drunk as well, but the smell of it wasn't pleasant, especially from his mouth.

Your breath hitched slightly at the sudden contact.

"..Yeah." You answered quietly albeit awkwardly as you stared up at Ben. Though, all the wine you'd consumed was making him look like someone... else - the darkness wasn't helping either, in fact it was fueling your hallucinations. The dark cast of a shadow from the lit candles behind him made his nose appear larger, and his cheekbones a little more pronounced.

Slowly, he crouched down until you two were eye-level, his hands slipping to your ankles. Your body stiffened slightly at the feeling. "Ben.." You warned, sighing as the drunk buzz and pleasurable tingle from the pads of his fingers was starting to cloud your mind.

"Whaat?" He whispered, heavy-lidded eyes still glued to yours as his fingers began to trail up your calves. Ben began to stand up slightly, pushing his face dangerously close to yours, and so you leant backwards to avoid him, your back gradually making contact with the bed. He shuffled forwards slightly, pressing a knee against the edge of the bed to balance himself.

You shouldn't be doing this, you knew that, but Gods, the alcohol was truly fucking with your morals and mind.

Would it hurt?

Just a little... taste...?

You shut your eyes as you became lost in the feeling; his fingers reaching the backs of your soft thighs, a breathy sigh falling from your lips. Slowly, you opened your eyes again as Ben's smalelr nose pressed into your neck, followed by his wet lips. You gasped as his hands found your torso, his fingers pressing a little too harshly into your flesh. 

Severus.

Memories of him suddenly flooded your mind like a reservoir breaking a dam, flushing out anything that didn't embody him. All the times Severus had attacked your supple flesh beautifully; pulling gorgeous moans from those pink lips of yours. Your brows furrowed together as your body silently yearned for his touch. It hurt.

You were stuck between stopping this and just shamelessly indulging in the dark, twisted fantasy of pretending that Ben was Severus. You were being so selfish. And yet, you didn't care, all of the emotional turmoil that you'd been through tonight was pushing you to the edge - all you wanted was the man who didn't love you, who only saw you as a quick fuck, maybe some midnight company. 

You shut your eyes again and tried your best to imagine him. With a sigh, you ran your hand up Ben's neck and into his hair, though it wasn't the same. You missed the way you'd tangle your fingers in his raven-black locks, gripping on it as he'd ravish your neck and breasts like some mad professional. Sighing frustratedly, you moved your hands down to his shoulders, expecting the rough, black fabric of Severus's robes, and yet you were met with the flimsy, thin fabric of Ben's white cotton t-shirt.

You felt so fucking pathetic.

Knock, knock.

You froze, eyes snapping open as quick as lightning. Was there someone at the door?

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Ben groaned drunkenly as he continued to kiss your neck. Unfortunately for him, the feeling had worn off the second you heard those knocks.

"The knocks at the door."

"You're.. imag-ining things, baby." Ben sighed and hiccuped once more, his uncomfortably hot breath on your neck made you shiver. At this point, Ben was much more drunk than you, and so with your remaining energy, you rolled him off of you. "Whoa- heey-!" He groaned as you slipped from underneath him, padding to the door. You didn't bother to check if he was alright, the only thing on your mind was who was at your door at this time of night.

Was it him? Did you want it to be him?

Reluctantly, you reached out your hand to open the door.

Nobody was there.

You frowned and leaned forwards, poking your head out to glance around. The corridor was empty, completely empty. That was incredibly weird, did you imagine those knocks? You sighed softly - perhaps you were a little disapppointed. Turning around, you shut the door, only to be faced with Ben sat sloppily in a chair with a face like thunder.

"Waitin' for someone?" He asked with a flat tone, his head lazily cocked to one side, still clearly drunk.

"What?"

"You know what I'm talkin' abou', Y/N." Ben said with the same tone, standing up, albeit unsteadily. You swallowed as he inched closer towards you, dragging his feet, your toes burying themselves against the hard wooden floor beneath your feet. "I know about the notes you kept. From him." He spat, pointing his finger at your face. Your heart instantly began to gallop; the pounding of its beats echoed in your ears like a harrowing scream in the night.

The notes...

"Excuse me?" You choked out, brows furrowing together in complete shock.

This was not how you wanted this to go down.

"I went through yer little drawers. In yer greenhouse," Ben scowled, his nose turning upwards in what you could only describe as disgust. "All of his little notes were perfectly preserved, and mine? Well-" Your mind was running so quickly that you could barely even listen to what he was saying - the fact that he went behind your back and invaded your privacy was the only thing sticking out to you as of right now. Your skin felt like it was on fire as the anger began to flood your veins.

"You went through my drawers, Ben?!" You yelled, shoving a finger in his face.

"That's the only thing you care abou'?! Not the fact that you secretly- obviously, have some sort of fucked up... thing for a man who treats people like they're the tiniest bit of shit on 'is shoe?!" Ben screamed back drunkenly as he bared his teeth, stomping towards you and smacking your finger away. "The fuck is wrong withya?"

You knew this could get ugly quite quickly, especially as Ben was drunk - a lot drunker than you. But at this moment, your anger was far too hot to even think about cooling things down.

You scoffed at him, your lips twitching upwards into a disgusted sneer. "What the fuck is wrong with you?! Going through my stuff?!" You shouted at him, taking a step backwards as he began to get a little too close for comfort. "That's not okay, Ben!"

"How long has it been going on?" Ben asked, his tone suddenly calm. That put you on edge.

You paused for a moment, pondering on his question. It was probably best that you didn't answer that. "We're done here, Ben." You clenched your jaw, silently readying yourself for some sort of explosion.

"How long, Y/N?!" Ben yelled. The way the whites of his eyes were basically screaming at you made you feel terrified. In this current moment, there was only one pair of arms that you wish you were being held in. The man in front of you backed you up to the door, and you could only stare at him, for your wand was foolishly placed inside the pockets of your robes hung in your bedroom. Tears burned in your eyes as the guilt you'd tucked away was finally waking up and holding your body hostage with it's incredibly heavy weight. "Did you fuck 'im? Is that why ya never slept wit'me for months? Because you were too ...busy being his fucktoy?" Ben slurred, his face red and lips wet with saliva from how he'd been shouting.

"Shut up!" You cried at Ben as the tears began to break free from you and run down your cheeks like melting diamonds. This was so not the way you wanted this to go. "Please, just stop!" You were sobbing at this point as his words pierced your heart, quickly reminding you of what Severus truly thought of you.

"Oh, fuck sake, stop with the cryin'," Ben growled, drunkenly shoving a hand into your shoulder, sending you barreling backwards and into the door. You winced slightly as the bone of your shoulder blade made contact with the metal bar on your door. "Whiny bitch, yer the one in the wrong, not me!" He grumbled with a heavy sigh, turning away from you.

"Shit, Ben-" You gasped as you leaned forwards and pushed yourself off of the door, however, a sharp and excruciating pain shot across your shoulder as you tried to move it. "What the hell were you thinking?!" You whined, stumbling to the countertops of your kitchenette to lean on it. Your shoulder was fucking killing you.

"Me? What was I fuckin' thinkin'?!" A sarcastic, manic laugh fell from his lips and immediately you regretted your choice of words. The man spun on his heel, and suddenly he donned a wand in his hand. Now, you were scared for your life. "You're one to talk... you know what... I'm going to have you fired... yeah... blacklisted. From every job in this fuckin' area! That'll teach you to be a whore!" Ben screamed the last word so loudly that you were sure every sleeping student and teacher heard it. Your jaw ticked, and you had to look away, your face painted an embarrassed shade of scarlet.

Your heart dropped at his words. No way was this happening.

"You can't do that." You whispered, tears still streaming from your eyes as you stared at the ground.

"I work at the Ministry, darlin', anything is possible."

"Fuck you."

"What did you just say t'me?"

"Fuck you!" You cried out hoarsely with one hand on your shoulder and the other gripping the countertop. An animalistic like growl fell from your ex-boyfriend as he stormed towards you, fury burning bright in his eyes. He raised his wand, and you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for some sort of spell to hit you.

"Stupefy!" A familiar voice commanded, the swish of a spell following it suit. Then, a loud thud.

Reluctantly, you opened your eyes to see Ben laying on the floor, unconscious in a pool of his own saliva. Your chest heaved with fear, and you were incredibly scared to look up to see who had come to your rescue. Frozen, you stood still in your place, though you could feel your knees beginning to buckle. Within seconds you were on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, your lungs on fire from how harshly you were breathing. Merlin, you could've just died.

uh oh.. who saved her?

i'm sorry if you weren't tagged, i went through the majority of my notes and tried to find you all!! pls forgive me :( there was a lot due to my absence <3

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[redflagshipwriter]

Young Lovers shot by Cupid ch 3

(Damian/Danny dpxdc fic, Damian and Stephanie buddy cop fic)

Masterpost

Brown was a somewhat agreeable partner to travel with when she was not aiming to irritate him. She made no side trips, unexpected stops, and she certainly did not feel the need to show off world-class acrobatics when they were aiming for speed.

Begrudgingly, Damian admitted to himself that she was not entirely terrible. The revelation that she felt some competitive spirit in regards to Drake was good information. That could improve their working relationship considerably. Perhaps he would allow her more grace.

They arrived at the mall in short order.

They looked up the blueprint from outside and quietly conferred on a plan. The large building was closed, dark, and quiet. There was a single security office, and it seemed that the mall did not employ anyone overnight. Damian pried open a vent on the roof and slipped inside silently. Brown was at his heels a moment later. She hit the ground with a soft tap of her boots.

Imperfect, but excusable, Damian generously allowed.

The office itself was a damp little nest of filing cabinets with a lingering and unpleasant aroma of popcorn butter and coffee. Damian wrinkled his nose through the task of sorting their security tapes.

The food court tapes from yesterday had already been removed, labeled, and put away.

Unfortunately, they were literal tapes. Damian huffed in disbelief at the bulky VHS units.

“Holy moly,” Brown muttered. “I thought the old man was the only person who still used these.”

Indeed.

Damian suppressed a sigh. “I think it unwise to linger here and watch all the footage,” he said, but he hesitated to take them. It would have been much better if they could simply make a copy. But these? Impossible. Wasn’t it?

…Batman would know. Damian crossed his arms unhappily. The oldest members of the family would hold this knowledge. “You are too young to know these devices?” he confirmed.

Brown huffed a little laugh. “Yeah, but how hard can it be?” She tapped at the likeliest tape with a gloved finger. “There has to be a way to make copies. We can look it up. But we could just watch here. You know what time the incident was, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Damian admitted begrudgingly. “But it would be optimal to watch the entire day’s footage to ensure that nothing else happened.”

Brown blew out air between her lips. “Alrighty then.” She dug out her nightphone and apparently started searching for tutorials.

Between the two of them, they managed it. They slipped away with two recorded tapes. They made a detour to deposit them in Spoiler’s bike storage before returning to their patrol. In between normal activities, they quietly debate their next challenge: watching the tapes. Obviously, Batman was the only person in the world paranoid enough to retain such ancient technology. They needed to use his equipment. But how to do it without being seen? It was kept in the entertainment room closest to Father’s bedroom, so that he could watch his childhood favorites if the nostalgic urge struck. He occasionally did so as background noise for filling out paperwork.

“The easiest time would be when he’s at work,” Brown recapped thoughtfully. “But there isn’t much of a window between when we get free from school and when he could come home from work. It would take weeks to watch it all that way even once, and by then Valentine’s Day would have passed.”

Damian made a tsk of disgust. It was true. Unfortunately, the fastest way to draw attention to their operation would be to forgo school. That would invite scrutiny from Pennyworth.

“Oh look, a carjacking.” Brown threw herself off the building and screeched like a bat as she fell. The sound rang out and echoed across the cold, dark streets.

It was a bloodcurdling sound. The guilty man looked up with amusingly wide eyes and a pale face. Damian suppressed an amused snort and came down in silence at a different angle.

After they had apprehended the fool and left him with a stern warning to follow the law or else face the pain of losing a hand, the two returned to the skies.

“That was pretty metal,” Brown said, in a tone of ardent admiration.

Damian cast a look back at the building they had been passing. He hadn't noticed anything in particular. To what was she referring? The window grates? Something inside the windows? He chose not to respond other than with a grunt.

Brown laughed again.

He ignored her harder and channeled his tenseness into an unnecessary flip before landing. He stood and put his hands on his hips as he surveyed the city. “Your Mother is frequently at work while you are imprisoned in school.”

“...Yes.” Brown cocked her head to the side.

He nodded briskly. “You will give me a disease,” Damian instructed. “Of course you may not malaise without supervision. You must come to the manor.”

“Oh, fake a sick day or two,” Brown breathed. She clasped her hands together. “You're becoming such a real boy, d’you know that?”

“Tt.” Damian turned away with disgust so that he did not have to see Spoiler bouncing on her heels.

“Alright, symptoms. Can't argue with diarrhea!”

He cringed hard.

“There's a good reason for no one else to see it,” Spoiler justified. “We can't fake a fever. We could maybe manage clamminess, red eyes, etc.” She paused. “But honestly, the two of us being sick at the same time would go a long way to convince, since we have a history of antagonism.” He could see her make a face under her mask. “Tonight could work against us for that.”

Damian nodded. “We will have to invent a conflict,” he said. He immediately started picking through their patrol for a premise.

She blew a raspberry. “Nah, adding details gives them something to unpick,” she said.

He was struck by the unwelcome realization that she was not wholly unintelligent. His mouth felt glued shut.

“I'll just go back in a bad mood, make a couple faces and sigh loudly once,” Spoiler said airily. “You put on your little thundercloud face and storm away, give crisp answers to anyone who asks if there's something wrong.”

“...And in the morning, I will sleep in,” Damian said. “Past my alarm. Pennyworth will note it as a matter of concern. I will get ready for school.”

“I'll call and ask if I can malaise at the Manor, since my mom is at work and she's worried,” Brown continued easily. “Alfred will put two and two together and tell you to stay home.”

Damian hesitated. “I think that if you had given me some low-class disease,” he started.

She cut him off with a lifted hand. “You get that illness isn't a class related thing, right?” She huffed. “Maybe you got me sick with your elementary school germs. Little kids are disgusting.”

…His peers were upsettingly unhygienic. He gritted his jaw.

Still, he had his self respect to maintain.

“I would never pass a contagious disease,” Damian vowed. He had too much self discipline for that. “The origin must be you.”

She hummed.

“Robin and Spoiler, you two are closest to Red Hood. Care to lend a hand?”

The two straightened into professional posture that Damian didn't remember leaving. “What's the situation?” Brown asked.

“He shook a bush and a lot of creepy crawlies flew out,” Oracle drawled. “Danger is minimal, but containment is impossible with one. Dropping coordinates.”

The next hour was spent dragging dregs of a gang from Bloodhaven out of dumpsters and other such crannies in order to escort them to city limits. They were aurally assaulted by Todd’s idea of a motivational speech and his puerile territorialism. “Stay out or I'll cut your hands off and sew them onto your ankles, blah blah.”

Damian tuned it out. Mother had truly wasted her time on him. He was so dramatic.

The rest of the night went as planned. He and Brown returned to the cave in a pointed silence, wrote professional reports, and stalked to their respective showers without exchanging a word.

He went to his room and picked up his alarm clock. Perhaps he ought to adjust the time?

‘No. If Pennyworth is passing and does not hear it at the usual time, he will note the irregularity.’

Damian willed himself to sleep. When the alarm did go off, it took his finely honed discipline to turn the machine off and then lie back down in bed. It was… uncomfortable. he laid there stiffly, looking at the ceiling.

He forced his eyes to shut. He matched his breathing to a pattern for sleep. And he waited to see how long it would take for someone to notice that he had slept in.

His punishment for childhood began at 8 am and released the prisoners at 3 pm. Therefore, he habitually awoke at 6:30 am. After an agonizing wait Damian peeled open an eye to see that the time was 7:12.

…It was past the time that he would normally have arrived at the breakfast table. He weighed if he wished to hurry downstairs or let Pennyworth come to check on him.

Something felt like a rock in his stomach. Damian sat up and put a hand to it, frowning at the sensation. What was this? When he had thought about his actions causing Pennyworth to abandon his post and trek up a flight of stairs the odd feeling had emerged.

There was a knock on his door. Damian's head shot up as it opened. Pennyworth peered in and his eyebrows went up slightly at the sight of Damian still abed. “Good morning, Master Damian,” he greeted.

“I apologize.” Damian took the hand off of his stomach and all but leapt to his feet. “I have- overslept. I will be but a moment.” He paused, genuinely flustered. “Good morning, Pennyworth.”

“Your breakfast is ready,” Pennyworth said mildly. “Excuse me.” He closed the door.

Damian raced through the bare minimum of his routine and pulled on a school uniform. He made it to the kitchen at 7:20. He faintly heard a phone ring in the other room. His heart gave just one undisciplined leap. Was it Brown, telling their story?

Drake was slouched halfway over the table, cradling a hard-boiled egg in his hands. An otherwise empty plate had been pushed into the center of the table. He had kicked his chair out quite far and was leaning directly forward, his entire upper body on the wood. He contemplated the depths of the egg with a wrinkled brow and eyes halfway hidden under bangs.

Damian edged around Drake to his seat, careful to avoid physical contact.

“You're late,” Drake said to the egg.

Perhaps it was his egg, Damian thought snidely. He was an oversized duck, was he not? Perhaps he had laid that egg and that was why it was so fascinating to him.

“Oy,” Drake drawled. He sniffled as he turned to look at Damian. “What's wrong with you? Forget a project?”

“Do not be foolish,” Damian forbade. He picked up his silverware and set it on his breakfast.

Drake regarded him for a long time. “Are you sick?”

…Why did he think so?

“No, I am not,” Damian snapped back, before he could think better of it. Perhaps he ought to have let Drake establish his alibi.

“I don't know, you look kinda off,” Drake said. He let the hand cradling his egg hit the table and he squinted.

“Master Timothy,” Pennyworth said.

Damian did not jump.

“Ms. Brown has just called to say that she's quite under the weather. I will be retrieving her shortly. How is your condition?”

Drake sat up. “I'm fine, Alfred,” he said formally. Then he blinked. “I think Damian is sick.”

He bristled. “You will bite your tongue,” Damian snapped back. “I am- I am no such thing.”

He could see the moment they both decided that he was, in fact, too ill for school. That was the goal: but he could not accept it calmly. They would assume he was on death’s welcome mat. Therefore he hissed and protested and derided Brown’s name with only a distant smidgeon of guilt.

But eventually, Damian was ushered to a quiet and dark room to wait while Pennyworth informed the day prison that Damian would be absent from Geology, Geometry, and all manner of vile variations on how one might ensure misery for a lone intellectual in a flood of brainless oafs.

Success.

Brown was delivered and managed to appear in the same room that Damian had been consigned to. She had managed to contrive an unusually poor condition of her normally lustrous hair. That, combined with shapeless clothes and smudged eye makeup, served to make her appear quite terrible indeed.

“You look terrible,” Damian told her, because she had done a good job.

A muscle twitched visibly under her eye.

“Is Bruce gone yet?” She asked.

Damian shook his head. “He will leave at 9:30.”

Brown sucked on her lower lip for a moment and wiggled into the crack of the sofa cushions. “I think we should go to his VHS room before he leaves, so when he notices someone was in there he doesn't see a reason to investigate.”

Damian shook his head minutely. “No. He will take the opportunity to spend the day with his ailing children and watch his favorite childhood show. We will have no opportunity to watch the security footage.”

“Not his kid,” Brown muttered. “But you're right. The chance is too high.” She let her head hit the back of the sofa. “That would be a good way to spend a real sick day, I think.”

Was she wistful?

Damian eyed her in bewilderment. Was she aching for bonding time with Father?

“I shall inform him that you want to watch his detective show at a later date,” he decided generously.

#red young lovers #dp x dc #dc x dp #dead serious #damian wayne #stephanie brown

[gingerjolover]

Detangle - Julien Baker x fem!crew!reader

Synopsis: Julien's gf helps her get unready after BG's Halloween show at the Hollywood Bowl :') (jesus!julien x crew!reader)

G's notes: gf is lowkey a costume designer? she's crew, but I'm putting her on the same part of the team as makeup artist! also thank you guys for being patient, if only you could see my WIP in google docs rn....

wc: somewhere around 875?

warnings: RPF, jesus!julien, slightly smutty, some light kissin n touchin, no fundamental physical descriptors?

There are very few things that could tear your eyes away from watching your girlfriend headbang onstage while dressed as Jesus. In fact, the entire thing feels like a fever dream. From sourcing the angel costumes for the band, hand-bedazzling Lucy's jacket, sewing Phoebe's veil, and then soundcheck, the lead-up to the Halloween show has felt like a whirlwind.

You're entirely unfocused, eyes parading down Julien's body, only half listening to the cues for an outfit change. "Here," your assistant says softly, eyes sparkling while watching the stage in admiration. She's handing you the boys' original jackets in order of who comes off stage first. You smile at her, grateful she's paying attention while you ogle the somewhat sacrilegious display onstage.

It's within minutes everyone is rushing off to side stage, clothes flying everywhere. Lucy is undoubtedly the easiest to change, so you work with her quickly, carefully adjusting her halo on her head before switching out her white suit jacket for Julien's original jacket. "Thank you," she whispers, kissing your cheek lightly before dashing off, Julien appearing in front of you.

"Hi pretty girl," she says out of breath, leaning in to kiss your lips quickly, already stripping off her robes.

"Jay, leave them on...no don't do that, your hair!" you excalim, Julien obviously was not listening to you earlier when you were standing between her legs bobby-pinning the crown to her hair. "Sorry, sorry-I" Julien stammers as you help her readjust the robes on her shoulders, sliding Phoebe's original jacket over her, "It's okay, you having fun?" you ask with a big smile, kissing her gently.

"The best time ever, I love you," Julien mumbles agaisnt your lips, kissign you once more on your cheek before winking and heading back out.

Your assistant is rushing Phoebe back onto the stage when you both stand beside each other, taking a deep breath before watching the rest of the show. It goes by in a blink. Before you know it, everyone is filing off stage, much slower this time. Julien, Lucy, and Phoebe walk off holding hands, doing a quick but tender group hug right off-stage before they separate, and Julien comes bounding over to you, immediately scooping you up and spinning you around. "How was it?" she asks, mouth already attached to your neck. You can't help but giggle, holding her head as she finally puts you back on the ground. "It was amazing, as always," you say.

"Oh god," you say, looking at her hair, your fingers assessing how tangled the crown is in her hair. "Not God, just me...actually, I'm the son of God," Julien says, eyes wide in a cocky smirk, holding out her arms.

"You're so..." you start, moving Julien further backstage and into the room where y'all got ready. "Sexy? Intelligent? Holy?" Julien rattles off, wiggling her eyebrows as she walks backward, trusting you to walk her in the right direction. "I was going to say ridiculous, but the first two definitely," you smile, eyes twinkling. "Not so much the third one," you giggle. "Oh, why's that?" Julien smirks, sitting in the hair chair in the empty "glam" room. "I don't think it's holy to dress up as Jesus," you start to say, Julien looking up at you with wide, almost glassy eyes, a look common post-show. "And your underwear," you snort. "What about my underwear? It says for God's eyes only," Julien goads, leaning back in the chair, watching you grab a comb and some detangler. "God wasn't the only one looking," you smirk, standing between her legs. "No, he was not," Julien groans, holding onto your hips, "You did a lot more than look," Julien mumbles, smile widening.

"Don't get all worked up," you murmur, smirking, starting to detangle her hair, pulling one piece that was particularly tangled when she all but squeals. "Ow, babe," she exclaims, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed as she leans back a pace, staring at you offended.

"What?"

"That shit hurts!"

"Well, maybe if you didn't headbang so hard, your hair wouldn't be intertwined with your crown right now," you scold softly.

She grumbles, letting you get about 75% of the crown out of her hair before she's whining again. "You're tugging too hard, princess, my neck hurts."

"Me tugging isn't making your neck hurt, seriously Jules, you headbang so hard on stage, and I'm scared you're gonna get whiplash."

"Can't help that I'm a rockstar," she mumbles, finding your eyes before rolling them teasingly before hissing when you pull a chunk of hair.

"Stay still," you giggle, kissing her nose softly. Within 5 minutes, the rest of the crown is out, and you're handing it to Julien so she can keep it. "C'mon, we can pack up and get you unready at the house. Sounds like backstage is filling up," you comment. You can hear the voices of the various friends and peers who came to see the show down the hallway.

"Thanks, angel," Julien whispers, smirking softly as she uses the pet name, hopping off the chair and pulling you into her arms, dipping you ever so slightly to press a passionate kiss to your lips. "Vacation time starts now," she whispers teasingly, her hands in the back pockets of your pants, squeezing gently.

#anon cutie requested #julien baker x reader #julien baker x fem!reader #julien baker x crew!reader #julien baker mini fic #boygenius x reader #boygenius mini fic #jesus!julien x crew!reader #gingy's halloweekend

[sweetestspence]

holy ground : a spencer reid fanfic

synopsis : vignettes of an ever evolving friendship between bau agents spencer reid and yn ln. pairing : spencer reid x f!reader genre/s : fluff, maybe some angst?, slow burn, pining

a series set to... gracie abrams' in between [ she toes the line between them, he says he's new at this, there's holy ground beneath them ] + beabadobee and clairo's glue song [ you've been hiding in plain sight, then appeared ] + the 1975's me & you together song [ i've been in love with her for ages, and i can't seem to get it right, i fell in love with her in stages ] + hozier's would that i [ with each love i could lose, i was never the same, watch it still live in roofs, be consumed by the flame ]

watch it all unfold...

" and then there were two "

the bau recruits a new agent whose credentials arguably match their very own boy wonder’s

" late night talking "

one accidentally sent text leads to a night of mayhem, which both yn and spencer struggle to piece together

" nicknames "

spencer wonders why yn seems to have a nickname for everyone except for him

... and more coming soon !

note. i'm on my nth rewatch of cm and my comfort character has not had a single day of comfort so here i am. i like the idea of giving spencer the slowest burn of a love interest who has been there for him since s1. as the synopsis suggests, the updates will consist of moments that lead to the buildup of their relationship and not a proper overarching plot. this is really just me writing mutual pining fluff and some slow burn angst. things may not be chronological, so one update might be s1!sr and the next be s7 then back to s2 soooo yeah >_< when i've gotten into the swing of things, i'd probably be willing to take /suggestions/ on certain plots from the show featuring spencer and this yn. for now, i'll just open a taglist. just send me an ask or reply to this post. thank you !

#filed : holy ground. #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid series #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #spencer reid scenario #criminal minds x y/n

[ladykailitha]

Can Anybody See Me? Part 2

Holy shit, guys. I have never had such a response to a story before. Thank you guys so much.

Tag list of 50 has now been filled. Any other requests for tagging will be denied. I’m sorry.

Edit: Also if you saw the title as something else? No, no you didn’t. And any reblogs you see with anyone instead of anybody are a figment of your imagination. (*thuds head on laptop* I have the title right on here...in my file *wails*)

Part 1

*

The next morning Eddie got up for school excited for the first time. He had a mystery to solve and his name was Steven Harrington. Probably the third or whatever shit rich people got to with naming their kids. He rummaged through his closet looking for his favorite band tee. But he stopped when he found an old shoe box down at the bottom.

Eddie frowned and pulled it out. It was a bunch of pictures of Eddie when he first came to live with his uncle, Wayne. He looked at the shaved head and bruised face.

His dad had taken one look at Eddie that morning and decided his hair was too long. He had grabbed Eddie by the hair and dragged him into the bathroom and shaved his head. The bruises to the face were from Eddie trying to escape.

Eddie had suffered a concussion and it was then the state had taken notice. They had packed up his stuff while he was in the hospital in a big black garbage bag and told him he would be going home to his Uncle Wayne. In Indiana. So far from the life he knew. But it meant being safe from his dad and that was a plus in Eddie’s book.

It’s how he knew what Steve was going through. Maybe not exactly the same. But he knew concussions and knew they were a bad business.

He put the pictures back in the box and tucked it under his bed. Maybe he didn’t need to know why Steve was hurting. Maybe it was enough to understand. He pulled on his second favorite band tee and his jacket. He grabbed his bag and hurried out the door.

*

Eddie bit his lip. He didn’t have any classes with Steve today and wasn’t able to check up on him. He was tempted to break into the office and pull Steve’s schedule. But that would get him detention and he was still trying to keep his promise to his uncle.

How was he going to do this?

And then the answer literally dropped in his lap. A book was thrown at him by someone. He picked it up and looked at the cover. It was some old homework journal was about to throw it away when a piece of paper fluttered to the ground.

Frowning he picked it up. By some miracle it was Steve’s schedule. He looked up to see if he could see who threw it at him. But it could have been anyone. A lot of people were avoiding his eye, but that could be for any number of reasons. They bought from him and now they can’t look him in the eye because he knows. They want to buy weed and don’t know how to broach it. They think he’s a freak. They have a crush on him. You know, the possibilities were endless.

But at least he knew things he didn’t before. Like holy hell, the kid did a lot of sports. He looked at baseball and swimming and basketball with his mind whirling around in his head. How did he keep all the rules straight?

Math third period Eddie knew. History was Steve’s first period. Which was probably how his messed up brain managed to spew that information at Eddie yesterday. Baseball was seventh. Basketball his eighth. Swimming was second. English fourth. Art was sixth. Art, huh? That was intriguing. Probably thought it was an easy elective. And chemistry was fifth. So it looked something like this.

Odd 1-History 3- Math 5- Chemistry lunch 7- Baseball

Even 2-Swimming 4-English 6-Art lunch 8-Basketball

Huh. Eddie never noticed, but Steve was always in his lunch period. That was certainly interesting. He wondered what Mrs Hall, the guidance counselor would do about all his sports now that he couldn’t play anymore. He supposed swimming was still fine, nothing to hit you in that. But baseball and basketball were definitely out.

Eddie chewed on his lip. The sports weren’t going to get Eddie closer to finding out what happened to Steve. They would close ranks so fast. At least Steve and him had lunch together so that would at least make it easier befriend the guy.

Art, though. He tapped his lip thoughtfully. He had art in his fifth period. He could doing some snooping there. After all art is where true expression lies. And if there was anything going on it would show in his art.

The start of a plan was forming in the back of his mind. Yeah. This could work.

*

At lunch, Eddie slid in next to Steve as soon as he sat down.

“What’s on the menu today, Harrington?” he asked grinning.

Steve looked up at him in shock again. “Um...applesauce and plain toast, with a can of ginger ale.”

Eddie winced. “Still feeling the nausea?”

Steve nodded. “I’m starting to wonder if it’s ever going away.”

“It’ll stick around for about a week,” Eddie said softly.

Steve frowned. “How would you know that?”

“How don’t you know that?” Eddie fired back. “This is your second concussion.”

“Didn’t go to the doctor either time,” Steve mumbled.

“You want to run that past me again, Harrington?” Eddie asked.

“Doctors mean having to call my parents,” Steve explained, “calling my parents means that they’ll have to come back from their trip, coming back from their trip means I get into trouble, getting into trouble is not good for a concussion, so I don’t.”

“Why would you get into trouble for having a concussion?” Eddie asked, furrowing his brow.

Steve started counting it out on his fingers. “Getting into a fight. Hanging out with black people and by extension, siding with said black person. Having to drop out of sports. Watching my grades plummet. Not speaking to Tommy and Carol. I can keep going if you’d like...”

Eddie shook his head. “Holy shit, dude. I didn’t think I’d see a shittier dad then my own, but yours and your mom take the cake.”

Steve looked down at his applesauce mournfully. “It’s not that bad. At least my dad doesn’t hit me like Tommy’s dad does.”

Eddie’s eyebrows went up. “Are all rich dads douchebags?”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Look, I’ve got to eat my own lunch,” Eddie said slapping the table and standing up, “but if you need anything come find me.”

Steve nodded, but Eddie didn’t think he would take him up on it.

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17 Part 18  Part 19  Part 20 Part 21

Tag List: @shrimply-a-menace @strangersteddierthings @throwbackthrowaway @novelnovella @cursedfoxteeth @babyblender @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @swimmingbirdrunningrock @steve-the-hairrington @winterbuckwild @spectrum-spectre @matchingbatbites

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #canon divergence #the boy with the bat #ladykailtiha writes

[eoieopda]

blindsided (myg)

After years of dating, you thought you had Min Yoongi all figured out - you didn't. And when he flipped the script on you, you never saw it coming.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Fem!Reader | Darksided AU Type: Sequel to darksided. Word Count: 6K Content: SMUT (18+ - Minors DNI,) established relationship au, POV switch, softbf!yoongi turned dom!yoongi, sub!reader, sex tape, oral sex (f receiving,) v fingering, p in v penetration, unprotected sex, squirting, multiple orgams, over-stimulation, spanking, biting, blindfold, praise kink, pussy slapping, general depravity, aftercare, fried chicken. A/N: Seriously, go read darksided (linked above) if you haven't yet. This takes place approx. two weeks later, and while the context isn't necessary, things will make more sense! Check out the playlist while you’re here. Tags: @exhibitachol @sstarryoong @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @miraculous-disaster @wakeupinahaze

For the first time in his life, Yoongi was avoiding his studio.

He had a mountain of work left to do on his mixtape – and, importantly, the drive to finish it – but that was precisely why he’d stayed away. Anytime he stepped foot inside over the past two weeks, his mind wandered far, far away from the task at hand. His previously unyielding discipline fell by the wayside the second he crossed the threshold.

Instead of focusing on the tracks he had yet to write, or perfecting the ones he'd already recorded, his eyes would roam over the surface of his desk on the other side of the room. It'd since been returned to its usual state, covered in various notebooks, and recording equipment. But it looked so much better with your bare, sweat-slicked body writhing on top of it.

And when he'd finally muster the willpower to look back at his computer, his gaze would pass over - and then jerk back to - the wall he’d pinned you against as his fingers fucked a river out of you. His blood pressure would spike as he pictured you there, relying on him to hold you upright, and any hope of accomplishing anything would drop dead on the floor.

The very same floor you’d fastidiously scrubbed to erase the mess he’d made of you, no less.

And then he’d think to himself: This isn’t a workspace anymore - it’s holy ground. 

Yoongi was running out of time, though, and he had to do his best to keep his mind on his work, off of you. Catching himself once again rewinding through recent memories, he let out a groan and forced his wandering eyes back to the screen in front of him.

He realized as he scrolled through his editing software that he’d done a piss-poor job of labeling his masters lately. This, of course, made it impossible for him to remember which track was which. On a whim, he chose the file in the middle of the folder and brought it up.

If he’d paid attention to the size of the file, he could’ve prepared himself for the consequences of pressing ‘play' - but he didn’t and he wasn't. 

“I really couldn’t love you more if I tried.” "Should I shut it off now until you're ready to start?" "I can cut it down. I do need you to cue the track, though - when I signal you."

Biting down hard on his bottom lip, he secured his headphones over his ears. He’d never been less interested in hearing his own music; so, without a second thought, he skipped over the next three minutes. As he did, his hand dropped down to palm his hardening dick through his jeans.

“Is it me, baby? Have I got you dizzy?”

Your little whimpers were barely audible in the recording, but they still managed to ignite a fire in the pit of his stomach. The blaze spread throughout his body when he pictured the way you looked below him then - so soft and shy, but with such carnal desire sparking in the dark of your eyes.

“I can’t give you what you want if you can’t tell me what that is.”

Anticipating your next line, his hand tensed around his cock. It was a pale imitation of that vice grip he found between your thighs, but it was something; and he would've taken anything.

“I don’t want you to be gentle with me. I - I know that you -”

Even caged between the walls of unimaginable heat, the irony of it all wasn't lost on him. The best recording he'd ever produced was created purely by accident -

“Stupid girl. You know nothing.”

- and it wasn't music at all.

“Get up.”

With Yoongi working hard on his creative pursuits, you begrudgingly committed to addressing your own. Like him, you had a to-do list long enough to circle the globe; but unlike him, you weren't buried in projects because you wanted to be. 

When Yoongi crossed off a task, he scribbled five more in its place. His mind never idled because he found inspiration everywhere. A half-remembered vignette from childhood that shook itself loose to become something beautiful. A word he encountered in passing that he’d transform into some modern-day epic. He generated this much work solely because his passion - like his potential - was limitless. 

To the contrary, you generated this much work because you were easily distracted. You’d start one project, and before you could finish it, your attention would flutter off on the wind like dandelion seeds. All those half-starts would stockpile until you eventually boxed yourself into a corner - and then, somehow, you'd keep stacking. 

Today's task was simple: you needed to transfer your recent photos from your camera's memory card to your laptop. Easy. Drag files from one folder to another, and then your contribution to this month's magazine spread would be finished. It should've only taken an hour - at most - for the upload to complete. 

Instead of doing what you intended, you ended up where you always did: happily lost in the weeds. This particular distraction was a folder from four years ago, when Yoongi took you on an anniversary trip to Paris. If you really had to defend this tangent, your scattered brain's game of word association wasn't far off - the photos you were supposed to tend to were from Paris Fashion Week. 

That counts for something, right? 

You snorted as you toggled through your archive. Had you taken a single photo of the stunning architecture, or countless historical sites you’d visited? Of course not. But you had snapped approximately one-hundred shots of an unaware Min Yoongi - buying you macarons; befriending a stray cat by an ATM; grimacing as he sipped wine you both hated but spent too many Euros on to waste. 

Wait, what were you supposed to be doing? 

Whatever it was, you’d swear up and down that you really did intend to finish it, but then you heard familiar, muffled footsteps. And then you felt the mattress dip slightly under the tops of your thighs and the elbows you’d propped yourself up on.  

And then the same Min Yoongi whose face beamed on your screen - slightly older, and even more adored - slid over the backs of your outstretched legs until his knees came to rest at either side of your ass. His body was warm as it loomed over you, but you shivered, nonetheless. 

Leaning in, he pushed your hair over your right shoulder and pressed a warm kiss into your left. Though he'd targeted an area several centimeters away from your spine, the aftershocks of this chaste contact rippled down its length. From there, the current divested and shot through each of your limbs, paralyzing you. 

You hummed and let your eyelids flutter shut. He ascended the arc of your shoulder, then your neck, leaving a smattering of kisses in his wake until the trail went cold. His quiet exhale tickled the skin below your ear, but he hovered in place - too far away. 

Reflexively, you whined and tilted your head to look at him. Effectively pinned, all you could do was survey his profile in your peripheral vision. “Baby?” You nudged. 

The hand he wasn’t using to hold his weight snuck under the hem of your tank-top and caressed the bare curve of your waist. His hypnotic ministrations on your side might’ve lulled you to sleep if you weren’t so intrigued by his so-far wordless affection. 

Thoroughly spellbound, your lids closed again while your lips remained parted. There was a moan building slowly in your chest, taking its time, but it was a gasp that tore out of you when his teeth nicked your lobe. His tongue was quick to soothe the pinch, and even quicker to solicit a mewl. 

You had no idea where this was coming from. Moreover, you didn't know what additional surprises this man was capable of. Though Yoongi had always been affectionate with you, he'd only recently unearthed some rare, raw sensuality that you never expected. In the time since this discovery, his touches became more frequent. You felt more of him underscoring each one, no matter how brief. 

The fingers skimming over your waist disappeared and left you cold, but before you could process the loss, they reappeared - lower now, pushing up the bottom of your underwear, and gripping the doughy cheek of your ass. Hard. Instantaneously, your hazy eyes re-opened. 

Min Yoongi truly contained multitudes. 

"Have I told you that you're my muse?" He purred into the shell of your ear as his hand massaged the skin he'd likely bruised.  

Enchanted once again, your sole response was a breathy moan. Only after his hand raised and smacked back against your ass did you realize he'd lulled you into a false sense of security. 

"When I ask you a question, I want an answer. Do you understand, baby?" 

Your shuttered breaths and accompanying nod weren't sufficient replies. His palm collided with your delicate cheek a second time, and it stayed there. The sting was muted by his fingers digging in and pinching; but it wasn't the pain that stole your attention. 

Instead, it was the wetness gushing between your clenched thighs when he whispered, "Use your words, angel." 

"I do," You muttered urgently, "I understand." 

The grip on your ass dissolved. You knew better now than to trust the warm hand kneading your cheek, but you couldn't resist moaning. Fuck - his touch was perfect. 

He contradicted the gentle caress below with a nip at your neck; and the kiss placed at that same spot preceded the true kill-shot. He hummed against your skin and your soul threatened to leave your body: 

"Good girl." 

The noise that escaped your mouth was stranded between a gasp and a cry. Oh, this man would be the death of you. 

"You inspired my next project today," He murmured between kisses to your neck. The tip of his nose was cold as it brushed across your skin and that disparity in temperature left you in shambles. "Not something I've done before -" He paused to suckle at your neck, no doubt leaving a mark when he released you, "And I need your help, baby." 

Another whimper escaped when his index finger snapped the elastic waistband of your boy-shorts; and you felt his mouth curve into a smirk. "I'll do anything -" You meant it. "Just - please, Yoongi, I need to feel you." 

"You will," His mirth left him in a breathy chuckle. It vibrated through your body and formed goosebumps as it went. "But not yet, angel. I want to savor this." 

Confused, you pouted - another exhaled laugh against your neck - and then, in a tiny voice, you asked, "What do you mean?" 

His hand slid up the back of your neck. With the base of your skull held gently captive between his thumb and middle finger, he guided you to turn your head to the left, then down. 

It didn't click right away. Silently, you blinked down at your camera. Is this what he wanted you to see? Why did - "Oh, no," you groaned as your head drooped forward. 

"Oh no?" He repeated, and though he tried, he couldn't hide the surprise in his tone. You quickly realized that he mistook your reaction for disinterest. He couldn't have been more wrong.  

Your sudden, complete deflation was simply your body buckling under the weight of unspeakable arousal. It anticipated the world-endingly perfect way he was about to fuck you; and it couldn't process the fact that it would all be memorialized. He really would be the end of you. 

Your head tilted until it rested against the side of his. "The memory card inside it is full, but there's a new one in my bag." 

Although you couldn't see it, you knew the corner of his mouth would twitch excitedly upwards at your words. At his, your mouth dropped open: 

"Any clothes you're still wearing when I come back to this bed will be ripped off. Got it?" 

It was difficult to tell which part of this exchange made your legs quiver the most: the stern warning itself; the contradictory soft, husky tone in which he said it; or the kiss the top of your head received when you responded - out loud - in the affirmative. He was gone before you could figure it out, making his way to the camera bag in the corner of your bedroom. 

He'd barely taken two steps when you frantically pulled your oversized tank-top over your head. It landed somewhere out of sight, and it was swiftly joined by your underwear - grey fabric soaked black. Your laptop was more carefully dismissed, tucked gently under the nightstand to avoid being ruined the way you were sure to be. 

When your head hit the pillow, your heart was already racing. Suddenly, you felt shy as you lay naked in your own bed, like you hadn't been in this position so many times before. There was a long-forgotten anticipation turning flips in your stomach. It bent your knees and brought your arms up to rest over your bare chest - you hadn't felt it since the very first time Yoongi saw you like this. 

As if he'd been summoned by your thoughts, Yoongi walked towards you with his focus trained on the camera in his hands. The tip of his tongue poked out through pursed lips as he carefully slotted the new memory card into the bottom, but it disappeared when the compartment clicked shut again.

He froze when he looked up at you, and your hammering heart threatened to make a break for it. 

"Baby," He was frowning. You raced to figure out which of his directions you failed to follow; but he interrupted the frenzy in your brain with that maddeningly soft, stern voice, "Why are you hiding?" 

Mouth open and poised to respond - with what, you weren't sure - you were cut off by the extended finger he raised to silence you. You clamped your jaw shut; his mouth curved ever-so-slightly at your quick compliance. 

See? You wanted to say, I'm learning! 

He removed the lens cap before his eyes flitted back up to you. "Hands above your head -" You did as he asked, though you didn't know where this was going. "- Close your eyes -" Again, you obeyed. "Don't move." 

And you didn't.  

You laid there with your eyes closed and listened for any sign of what was coming next. You could hear the muffled tread of his bare feet on the rug; and you expected further instructions - none came. Then you waited for any familiar noise from your camera - there was silence. But you smelled his cologne as he came closer, and the warmth you suddenly felt at your side told you that he’d reached you. 

“Lift your head up – but keep your eyes closed.” 

The eyebrow you raised in question was covered with some cool, silky fabric before Yoongi could have registered it. You received your answer in his actions. Gentle fingers adjusted the way the blindfold fell over your eyes, and then – even more gently – they tied a knot at the back of your head. Not too tight, but firm enough to keep it from slipping. It was no surprise to you that he’d handled this without disturbing a single hair on your head. 

His hands, once behind your head, now cupped your face. “You listen so well, angel,” He murmured before plush lips brushed against your forehead. “Lay back down the way you were.” 

Your head returned to the pillow and your elbows bent to allow your hands to meet above it. And you waited like that, trying to sense what his next move would be.

His footsteps padded off, and you figured he was seeking the best place to set up the camera. He paused, though, after only taking a few steps. The camera whirred – the auto-focus, you recognized immediately – and then it clicked. 

“So beautiful – you know that, don’t you? How stunning you are?”  

Click. 

“Perfect -” 

Click. 

“Mine” 

You couldn't help wondering how his photos would turn out. If your cheeks weren’t red under the blanket of his praise, it’d only be because you’d turned into a puddle. Your arousal had strayed far enough to slick the insides of your thighs, and if he didn’t touch you soon, you might liquify entirely and seep through the mattress to the floor. 

In the distance, plastic settled on wood. The strap affixed to your camera slithered over whatever surface he’d chosen; you could hear it slip over an edge, then it was silent. The bookshelf, you decided, third row from the top. Maybe second, if he liked the angle better? 

Without speaking first, he crawled up onto the foot of the bed. He paused there, likely kneeling in front of you. His hands slipped under your bent knees, and the only warning you got was him purring, “Come here,” mere seconds before you were pulled forward. You imagined that your gasp was still hanging in the air when you slipped out from under it. 

As soon as he was satisfied with your proximity, his hands found the insides of your knees and encouraged your legs to spread. “Now, baby -” He started, the heat of his breath indicating just how close his mouth was to your weeping cunt. “You’ll make sure the camera can hear you, won’t you?” 

The word was caught in your throat, suddenly bashful, but it eventually slipped out, “Yes.” 

You knew you’d failed as soon as you heard it, and you didn’t need to wait long to face the consequences. You jolted when his flattened fingers collided with your cunt - the sensation was a surprise, but the sound was what shocked you. Fuck! You could hear how wet he had you already.

Sodden, pooling, dripping. 

“Don’t be selfish, angel,” He tutted after withdrawing his touch from you, “Those sounds might come out of your mouth, but they don't belong to you, do they?” 

“No -” Your desperation was palpable when you responded with your whole chest. “They don’t. I – I won’t be selfish, I promise -” 

You cried out when he slapped your cunt a second time, an obscene chord formed by surprise, torment, and unbearable need.

“Whose are they?”

“Yours!” You choked, “They’re yours. I’m yours.” 

His arms hooked under your thighs and your pulse skyrocketed. “See? You are learning.” 

And then he lurched forward, flat tongue dragging upwards over your core with a pressure so perfect, your entire body tensed. He squeezed your legs harder when your back arched, and it prevented you from inadvertently slipping away from him.  

That devilish tongue swirled over your clit, and all you could manage was a whisper of a moan. He corrected you wordlessly, digging his fingers into the flesh of your thighs. The groan he pulled from you ricocheted off each one of your ribs on the way out. Satisfied, he hummed in approval against your cunt before he proceeded to flick dizzying circles over your increasingly sensitive bud; alternating paces in the way he knew would drive you mad.  

Both of your arms reached out, and your hands carded through his hair. You pulled him ever closer, which prompted him to shake his head furiously with the flat of his tongue pressed against your heat.  

“Oh, fuck!” you wailed. As much as you wanted to watch him, you knew that – even without the blindfold - the way his mouth moved so expertly against you would have made it too difficult to keep your eyes open. They were already covered, but you squeezed them tight enough to see stars as he suckled your clit. “Shit, baby – ah – feels so good.”  

The thread holding you together frayed further and further with every brush of his tongue against your most sensitive spot. The sound of his breathing, ragged and muffled with your thighs pressed harshly against the sides of his head, would have done unspeakable things to you - if your mindless gasping didn't threaten to drown him out completely.  

He shifted without removing his mouth from you, and he unhooked his right arm from under your leg. The heel of his hand glided up over your pelvis, your navel, and your breasts before stopping at the underside of your jaw. Two fingers tapped at your chin; you took the hint and took them into your mouth.

His tongue never let up on your clit as you slicked his fingers, suckling on them the way he did you. Once he was satisfied with the work you’d done, he pulled his hand back down to your cunt.   

Tongue still relentless at your clit, his middle finger swung the focus to your entrance, which was drenched by his saliva and your own slick. Meticulous and slow, he slid his finger inside of you. He moaned at the way you constricted around him; you melted. 

He never struggled to find that secret spot hidden behind your pubic bone. He'd proven time and time again that he was more in tune with your body than you were. Every curve, dip, and line had been committed to muscle memory.  

He could anticipate your reaction to every touch, even when those reactions varied based upon your mood or your energy level - and it was automatic. Unthinking but knowing. He teased this spot without mercy, and as he likely expected, you began to shake under his touch.  

The growing feeling in the pit of your stomach was one you knew he strived for. His favorite trick, once he knew the secret. And whenever you tried to resist – still uncomfortable with the way your body reacted to him – he gave you no choice. 

No poet could adequately describe how completely your orgasm consumed you. With the way you jolted against his mouth, he could’ve electrocuted you. You wriggled and writhed in his arms as you came, but he didn’t stop, even as your walls clenched around his fingers and your thighs pressed even more tightly against the sides of his head.

Your familiar moans devolved into some desperate sounds you’d never made before, curse words spilling out over your lips as you just kept cumming – but he still held tight to you as you bucked wildly in his arms.  

There was unbelievable pressure until there wasn’t.  

“Fuck, I love it when you do that,” He growled with his face nestled into your quivering, dripping inner thigh. His teeth nicked the skin but were swiftly replaced with a kiss from his ravenous, open mouth. “That’s my good girl.” 

He let you collapse back onto the bed, but he denied you any time to recover.  

“I think you can do it again, baby. What do you think?” He teased, alternating words and quick kisses along the interior of your thigh. “Should we see how much more you can take?”  

You babbled something in response, but neither of you could’ve interpreted what you meant. Your limp neck rolled to the side while you tried to catch your breath; there wasn’t time. You felt him coat his fingers in the remnants of your orgasm moments before he slid them inside of you and curled them upward.  

The combination of relentless pressure and a feverish pace dotted stars across the insides of your eyelids. Breathless, dangling at the edge of a precipice, you stammered, “Yoo-Yoongi -” 

Despite the obscene squelch of his ministrations, his voice rang through, clear as a bell. “What, angel? Do you want to come again?” Stupidly, you nodded, but he didn’t scold you. Given your fucked-out state, he seemed to forgive your mistake. “Then come.” 

The blindfold covering your eyes was black, but your vision went white. As you spasmed and gushed uncontrollably around his fingers, there was a moment where you could’ve sworn your soul ejected itself from your body. If it was floating above you now, it would’ve seen how thoroughly you’d drenched your boyfriend; and how perfect he still looked with your juices dripping off his chin. 

His weight was shifting at your feet when you returned to your body. It took everything you had, but you lifted one, limp arm out in his general direction. No words, just an outstretched hand begging to find him. When it did, he slotted his fingers perpendicularly under yours, rubbed the pad of his thumb over your knuckles, and kissed the top of your hand. 

“What color?” he murmured against your skin. 

You sighed softly, exhausted but not yet entirely spent, “Green.” You paused and chewed on your bottom lip. After a moment of quiet, you asked, “Yoongi?” 

“Yes, baby?” 

It was pitiful how your request barely rolled off of your tongue, but the answer would surely be no if you didn’t ask. “Can I see you?” 

He was silent for a moment – so, the answer would be no even though you did ask – but then you heard his soft chuckle. Even after he pulled the blindfold off, your eyes were useless. Somewhere in the bright white haze was Yoongi, though you couldn’t confirm that the shadow in front of you was truly him. Maybe you truly had died. 

Blinking furiously, you refused to stop until your eyes remembered how to focus. Slowly, slowly, slowly, the dark figure before you took a familiar shape. Shirtless, with damp, black waves clinging to his cheekbones – there he was. Concern was etched into his features, but his narrowed eyes relaxed when you shot him a smile. 

“Color?” You inquired with a squeeze of your hand. 

When he dropped your hand, your heart fell with it. But he sat up on his knees, placed that hand on your cheek, and captured your lips in a kiss. It was perfect, but it was torturously brief.  

“Green,” He replied. He backed away from you until he was standing at the foot of the bed. One hand dropped to his belt buckle while the index finger on his other hand beckoned you. 

You crawled towards him until his palm silently instructed you to stop. 

“Elbows on the mattress, ass up,” He ordered as he made short work of his belt. It slid easily through the loops of his ripped jeans and clattered as it hit the floor.

You leaned forward as he instructed, knees and elbows digging into the comforter you’d absolutely need to wash later – especially considering the way your mouth watered when his jeans and boxers were discarded and kicked aside. Were you drooling? 

Your body buzzed with anticipation as he crossed to the side of the bed. You wished he took his time sidling over to you, so your eyes could continue to devour his lean, snow-white frame; but if the stiff cock encircled by his hand was any indication, Yoongi wasn’t interested in wasting time. Instead, he pushed himself up onto the bed, out of sight, and the next thing you felt was his hand collecting your hair, pulling, and forcing your face up to the camera. 

His free hand squeezed your ass cheek when he said, “Eye contact, baby. Show the camera how I make you feel. Can you do that?” 

With his tip teasing at your entrance, you weren’t confident that you could – but you’d sure as hell try. “I can,” Your determination was clear, even if the voice conveying it wavered. “I will.” 

“Good girl,” He hummed. He released your hair and placed a kiss on the same shoulder blade he had earlier - when he last had you in this position. “Now, take a deep breath for me.” 

It wasn’t graceful, the way you sucked in air as he penetrated you; it was an unholy, strangled sound, and it crashed through the quiet like a wrecking ball. Every instinct begged your head to droop forward, and your back to curve up upwards, but you fought them off. Praise for your efforts tumbled out over your spine between Yoongi’s shuttered moans. His noises had you clenching around his cock, and the tightened grip of your cunt transformed them into something guttural. 

He paused when he bottomed out. Like you, he seemed to be at a loss for words. The hand gripping your hip was holding on for dear life; and the one curved over your shoulder kept you in place, allowing him to bury himself as deeply as possible.

He didn’t speak until he slowly started withdrawing himself from you, “I love the way you take me, how that tight pussy fights me whenever I leave.” 

As his cock dragged over your g-spot, your entire body shivered. He felt it and chuckled; you hiccupped, “Still so s-sensitive.” 

“Green?” 

“More -” You begged, “Please, baby.” 

You asked for it, but you weren’t ready for it. His hips snapped forward and drove him back into you before you could process what was happening. And when he kept up that ravenous pace, rutting over and over and over your detonator, it took everything you had not to explode.

All your willpower was spent trying to withstand his thrusts, though – nothing could keep you from collapsing forward onto the bed as your white-knuckled fingers gripped the comforter below. 

Before your body could fully settle over the mattress, his hand on your shoulder evolved into an arm hooking over you. He pulled you upright as his arm crossed over your heaving chest; he didn’t stop until he had you pinned to his. 

Fucking upwards into you with shallow, staccato strokes, he scolded you. “What did I tell you?” His hand dropped from your hip and dipped between your quivering thighs. His rapid thrusts didn’t falter as his middle finger began to assault your clit. “Hmm? What did I just say?” 

“Eye conta -”

The end of that word mutated into a scream. He snapped his hips forward so suddenly, you never anticipated being shoved off the edge of the world. Your orgasm ripped through you, shutting off your brain and forcing your entire body to convulse around him. 

You went limp when you fell from your high; Yoongi’s hold on you tightened to keep you from collapsing. Unrelenting, he just – kept – rutting. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

You wailed when that fourth wave crashed down over you. Caught in its riptide, you spoke in tongues; writhing and shrieking and imploding. Could a person die from coming this hard? 

Yoongi’s panting pulled you out of the abyss he’d thrown you in. “Shit,” He hissed, “I’m so close - fuck, you feel so good -” You felt it all over when he growled into your ear, “Tell me where you want it, baby.” 

You answered, but it was impossible for your hazy brain to know for sure if you’d replied verbally or telepathically. Either way, he understood – he always understood – and his break-neck speed was replaced by deep, deliberate thrusts. He groaned out your name as his cock twitched inside you, painting your walls white. 

The kiss Yoongi left in the crook of your neck didn’t wash away with the water cascading down over the two of you. You could still feel the uniqueness of its warmth, even in a cloud of steam - under the hot, heavy droplets hitting your skin.  

Your eyes were closed to avoid the conditioner he was massaging into your scalp, but your exhaustion was likely to keep them that way. The only reason you hadn’t slipped down the drain yourself was your unspoken refusal to be separated from him. Though, with that invisible string tying the two of you together, you’d never be able to stray very far, even if you wanted to.

“Can you tilt your head back, love?” 

This one was a request, not a command, and he made no effort to move it for you. The weight of your sleepiness caused your neck to roll more clumsily than you intended; it gave up, and your head bumped against his clavicle when it dropped backwards.

“Sorry,” you murmured, but he was already chuckling. “My motor skills seem to have clocked out early.” 

His laugh ricocheted off the tile. “You won’t need them,” He mused as his hands gently worked the remaining conditioner from your hair. “We can use mine.” Then he kissed the crown of your head, not once but twice. You could feel his smile spread against your scalp when you giggled. “All done, baby.” 

He’d taken his time with you; and he’d taken great care to clean – then kiss – every sore muscle he encountered. And when he was done, he used a large, plush towel to wick the lingering droplets from your skin. His hands on your waist steadied you as you stepped into a pair of sweatpants, and he smoothed the damp waves that you disrupted in unceremoniously tugging an oversized sweatshirt over your head. 

Once the two of you were fully dressed, he cupped your face in his hands, kissed you deep, and asked, “Do you need a lift back to bed?” His eyes sparkled at his joke – of course, he meant lift literally – and his eyebrow arched when you meekly shook your head. “I’m not sold. Is that your final answer?” 

You, once again, shook your head. He exhaled amusement through his nose at your indecision. Then, he placed his hands on your waist. Perfectly coordinated – as always – he lifted as you hopped, pulling you into his chest while your limbs wrapped around him. He carried you easily back into the bedroom and set you down gently on the bare mattress. 

All of your bedding was spinning in the washing machine on the first floor of your home, but he had a fluffy, full-sized throw waiting there for you. You held up one side of it, silently inviting him to join you. When he settled at your side, your head ducked down and came to rest under his chin. As soon as his arm curled over your back, your heavy lids finally closed. 

You were both quiet, one foot in a dream, when the growl of his stomach startled you both awake. Erupting into laughter, you each craned your neck to see the other beaming back. 

He wiped the mirth pooling in the corner of his eye and sighed as his laughter petered out, “Delivery from that fried chicken place?” 

“Oooh, yes, please.”

A/N: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! The response to the first post was so incredibly overwhelming, I simply had to write a follow-up. I might continue to add one-offs to this darksided cinematic universe (lol) simply because I love their relationship dynamic. And the sexual journey they seem to be on, hahahah. Please leave feedback so I know what you liked and what you didn't! Also, lmk if there’s something you’d want to see in any possible future installments 👀

#re: darksided #myg #bts #bts suga #bts yoongi #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts smut #yoongi smut #suga smut #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts x you #yoongi x you #suga x you #bts x y/n #yoongi x y/n #suga x y/n #min yoongi #bts min yoongi #bts min suga #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bts army #1k #jade writes

[astroyongie]

Yongie you should do the kink thing with our placements 🙈

I'm so curious if my actual preferences would match with my astrological placements 🤔

Let me change this and actually make a small post about Kinks for everyone to check !

Kinks Through Astrology

note: For this, I would advice you to look at your mars sign, 8Th house placement and potentially Eros placement to complement. Also this is just a resume

Aries: Their kinks are very passionate, harsh and rough. So usually kinks involving uniforms, dress up, sweating, inside locker rooms or any sport room; also showers, pools, baths. Kinks around roughness, hateness, grudges, angry, jackhammering; orgies and threesomes can be a huge turn on too, domination play, pain play, hair pulling. Also deep throating, face slapping, face spitting

Taurus: it's roughly vanilla. it involves breath play, hands around throats, chocking; also soft BDSM, food play, touches and foreplay is important, prolonged sex, instead of several rounds, huge ones, hands over mouth to keep silent, stuffing their mouth, oral, slow sex, against hard surfaces like tables, walls, grounds

Gemini: Hands play, fingering, handjobs, finger sucking, hands wrapped around their back, hands restraining or bonded, they are huge dirty talkers and/or get turn on by dirty talking, some praising other degradation, oral giving and receiving, licking and sucking body parts in general, phone sex, sexting, videotaping it, and using all type of toys.

Cancer: They are very daddy like, so daddy play and everything that it includes, older or younger people depending on the person, creampies, pregnancy fantasies and fetishes, pegging, "alpha omega knotting", chest play, boobs play, nipple play, physical pampering, praising, kissing, touching, comforting sex after an argument, sadness or being upset, unprotective sex, no use of contraception, some have family incest fantasies

Leo: Praisign and or degradation depending on other placements, chest play as well, with nipple play and nipple sucking; fight and argument sex, violent sex from it as well, exhibitionism, cock worshiping, body worshiping, role plays of being different people or dressing up, hair pulling, screaming of pain or pleasure, noise in general, pictures, body degradation

Virgo: A lot of submissive play, with not only sex slave play, but full under domination, letting the person do whatever they want, fuck doll kink, holy spaces or semi-public spaces, like sacred places or working places, heavy bondage and restriction, shibari, noise sex, loud moans and grunts due to voice fetish, slutting, oral, blowjobs and going down on their partner, rimming, and playing hard to get or innocent play

Libra: anything involving anal play, so pegging, anal, rimming, plugs, butt slapping, smacking, beating and punishment play, lingerie sets, latex play, wax play, nightlife kink with doing the deed in clubs, bathrooms, hallways, public spaces, striptease, seducing and flirting during the deed, worshiping play, hard to get, saying no when wanting yes, kinks are vast.

Scorpio: too many kinks, they have no limits so they want to try everything that there is. Biting, making, sucking, hickeys, kissing, heavy and soft bondage and restriction linked to BDSM play, pain play, sadistic play, domination play and roughness; oral, blowjobs, penetration with fingering or with toys or sex, hypersensitivity, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, showers, beaches, baths, pools, semi-public.

Saggitarius: huge attraction for foreigners people out of their culture, novelty, no limits in kinks either they want to do everything, several parties, one night stands, want only experience, gets turn on by people confessing to them and filing their ego, public sex, semi-public, semi consensual, trying new things, legs bitting, leg restraining,

Capricorn: Blindness, restriction and bondage play either soft or hard, doing in on the shadows, during the night with no light, perfume and scent sensitive, wax play, tickling, feathers, spanking, butt slapping, punishment, voyeurism, picture taking, video tapping, doing sexual videos and posting them, watching people or videos, orgasms denials, torture playing, edging

Aquarius: big kinky as well, this could go to one night stands, anonymous partner, glory holes, yellow houses where the ladies are, threesome, foursome or even orgies and sex parties, golden showers, degradation with body fluids, incest fantasies and other taboo fantasies, daddy kink with all included on the theme like daddy baby girl play and creamies, breath play, weird fetish, toys and also attraction towards foreigners

Pisces: Masochists play all the way, they are versatile and their kinks go everywhere depending on the person? Foot plays and fetish, emotional damage with redoing their traumas, wanting love and violence at the same time, a mix of gentleness and roughness, being degraded yet praised. So it's basically a paradoxical kinks, blood play and fantasies, knife play, taboo kinks as well.

#astrology #astrology facts #astrology kinks

[lunarbuck]

Fever Pitch

pairing: steve rogersxf!reader (any race)

wc: 4.6k

summary: After an accident at a hydra base, you and Steve have to come to terms with your dire situation or face the consequences.

warnings: sex pollen, smut, oral (f receiving), swearing, stressful situation, friends to lovers

a/n: Hello! This is my (late) entry for week 3 of @the-slumberparty :) And the one I got from the generator was sex pollen!! I have never written something like this before so I hope you guys like it lol

my masterlist

The bunker is quiet as you examine the lab set-up. All the vials, chemicals, and files are labeled in Russian, so you snap some photos and send them to Bucky for translation. Somewhere in the distance, you hear gunfire, but you know Steve can handle his own. If he needs you, he’ll signal. The bunker is underground below the Hydra base you and Cap have been searching. You left the hatch open just in case you needed to get out quick. You don’t like being stuck.

“You there?” Bucky’s voice crackles through the comm in your ear. 

“Yup. What am I lookin’ at, Barnes?” You flip through a few pages of a file, looking for literally anything in English.

“So this lab appears to be where they were developing different chemical weapons,” he explains, translating the labels and descriptions you’d sent him. As Bucky speaks, you find your attention being pulled to the far end of the lab desk. Beneath a pile of newspapers is a little glass vial filled with gray powder. 

As you run the tube between your fingers, the powder seems to follow the heat of your skin, shimmering and practically moving. 

Bucky’s voice continues to drone on and on in your ear, but you’re not listening. The sound of gunfire in the hallway above the lab sounds muted and far off. You can’t take your eyes off the glass vial in your fingers.

Something loud crashes behind you, and a second later, you’re on the ground. The vial slips from your fingers, but you don’t have time to wonder what the gray powder inside is. You don’t have time to think about the consequences of dropping it. 

“Holy shit,” you grunt, trying to maneuver your hand to your gun holstered at your side. The thing that pushed you to the ground turns out to be Steve. His large body presses you into the concrete as an explosion sounds overhead. He covers you from any debris that falls through the entrance of the bunker.

Your heart pounds, but you smile at the way Steve looks down at you, blue eyes focused and intense.

“Language,” he replies, quirking an eyebrow at you. Steve’s teasing side is one that doesn’t come out often, but you love when it does. He’s always such a golden boy, perfect in every way, but when he’s giving other people a hard time, he feels so much more… real. It’s the real Steve coming out, not the version of him SHIELD wants. 

“Sorry, Cap,” you say as you laugh. Once he deems it safe, Steve shifts off of you, then helps you to stand. Bucky asks for confirmation that the two of you are okay, and once you get the all-clear, you show Steve the little lab table. With the information Bucky gave you, you have a better understanding of what Hydra was working on when this base was active. As you’re showing him the chemicals, you find yourself looking for the little glass vial again.

Frowning, you check the floor around you, only to find debris and dust everywhere. There’s glass shattered beneath your boots, and when you crouch down, you find the little cork stopper. Your footprints tracked the shimmering powder across the concrete. 

You stand, strangely upset about the loss of the vial. “There was this powder,” you explain, looking for more in the lab. “It was gray, and when it got close to the heat of my fingers, it was… attracted to it. It moved in the vial.” Steve crouches down and tries to examine the powder, running his fingers through it to investigate.

When you turn your attention back to the Captain, you find him on his knees, gazing up at you. Looking down at Steve is something you haven’t experienced before. The way his bright eyes shine in the dull light, the way his lips part, have your head spinning. Down on his knees in front of you, Steve looks softer. All those hard angles and sharp features look so much sweeter.

“Do you know what it was?” He asks, tilting his head. 

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. Something flashes in Steve’s eyes, but it’s gone a moment later. He stands, returning to his normal towering height, and you tilt your head to keep eye contact.

Steve sucks in a breath, his large chest expanding in his tactical gear. “We should get going.”

Even though you know you need to leave, you can’t help but feel conflicted. Steve must sense your apprehension because he steps behind you and guides you to the ladder. His hands hold your waist while you climb up the rungs, and the heat of his skin on yours sends fire licking through your veins. 

As Steve guides you through the base, you feel your body temperature rising. He isn’t touching you anymore, but he’s just inches away. You’re itching for the contact, for his hands to be back on you.

“Got an update?” Bucky asks, probably antsy to hear about what you’ve found. The only reason you and Steve made the trek to the base was to learn more about the Winter Soldier program. 

When Steve notices that you’re not going to respond, he updates Bucky for you. “We’re good, heading out of the base now. We’ll be back at the safehouse in about an hour. I’ll give you another update then.” 

Even though you’re keeping up with Steve, even though you’re doing your best to act normal, he’s still giving you sideways glances. It’s like he can tell you feel feverish, that something has changed. You can’t stop staring at him. His muscles, the way he clenches his jaw. 

Your thoughts swim with images of Steve during training, Steve pulling his tactical gear on before a mission, Steve toweling off after a run.

It’s not like you’ve never thought about Steve that way… you’d be lying if you said it’s never crossed your mind. After working with Steve for the past few years, it’s practically been inevitable that you’d develop feelings for Mr. America. 

But it’s never been this intense, this… desperate. It’s like your feelings have been amped up to 1,000. Every breath smells of him; everywhere you look, you see his face.

You finally make it outside and practically sprint to the car hidden in the woods near the base. Steve runs after you, catching up in an instant due to his super-soldier speed, but he doesn’t ask you what’s wrong. 

By the time you’re back at the safehouse, you feel like you’re dying. Your blood is hot, coursing through your veins and pulsating between your thighs. The entire ride, you tried your best not to rub your legs together to alleviate the feeling, but you’re not sure you did a very good job.

Steve does a sweep of the safehouse, leaving you in the car. The second he shuts the door, you let out a long, low moan. The air in the car smells overwhelmingly of Steve’s cologne, woodsy but sweet. It invades your nostrils, fills your lungs, and nearly sends you over the edge.

Your fingers fly to the zipper on the back of your suit, tugging it down and pulling your arms from the sleeves. It’s not quite spring, there’s still snow on the ground, but you welcome the chill of the air on your heated skin.

By the time you have your suit around your waist, Steve gives you the signal that the safehouse is clear. You clamber out of the car and into the house, not bothering to shut the door behind you. 

“Are you okay?” Steve asks as you shove your suit down your legs and kick it away from you. In your shorts and athletic t-shirt, you feel only a shred of relief from the heat. The material of your clothes is thin, made to help you regulate your temperature, but it’s not helping. Not nearly enough.

“I think I have a fever or something,” you groan, finding your way into the kitchen. The safehouse is a simple one-story home in a farming town near the base, and it’s stocked with everything you and Steve could need if you were stuck here for a prolonged period of time. 

You dig through the cabinets looking for fever medication and pop a few of them, chugging a glass of water. You lean against the counter, dropping your head as you take deep breaths. Your heart feels like it’s about to burst through your chest with how fast it’s beating.

Steve’s feet appear in your vision, and you drag your eyes up his figure. He’s still in his tactical suit. It’s fitted perfectly to him, sculpted to his muscular mountain of a body. When you finally reach his eyes, concern is written all across his face. He steps closer and places a hand on your forehead.

“You’re burning up,” he whispers, letting his hand cup your jaw. You lean into his palm, loving the way his calloused skin feels against your cheek. Just having him this close, having him touch you, brings you so much relief. But it’s not enough. It’s nowhere near enough. 

You bite back a moan as his fingers brush down your jaw to your neck, feeling your pulse. “How have you not passed out yet?” he asks, furrowing his brow. “I need to call this in.” You whine at the loss of his touch when he pulls away. He comes back a moment later and holds his phone out, pressing the speaker button.

“Did you touch anything in that lab?” Bucky asks, voice tense. It’s a struggle to formulate the words. With Steve so close but not touching you, your brain feels like it’s scrambled.

“No, don’t think so,” you reply, clenching your hands into fists. Your fingernails dig crescent moons into your palms.

“Well, think harder. I need to know.” Steve watches you carefully, but you can tell he’s running through his memories in search of an answer.

“I don’t know, Bucky,” you whimper, a new wave of heat rushing to your belly. Steve steps closer again and places a hand on your arm. Goosebumps jump up on your skin. “Fuck,” you whisper.

You can tell it takes effort for Steve not to chide you about your language, but in the end, his concern for you wins out. “What about that vial?” he asks, thumb brushing up and down your arm.

“What vial is he talking about?” Bucky practically shouts. 

“It was this tiny glass vial with gray powder in it,” you explain, voice tight. “I didn’t open it, but I dropped it, and it broke open.” You hear Bucky typing and a moment later, cursing under his breath. 

“I’m gonna send you a picture. Tell me if this is what you saw.” Steve’s phone pings, and he shows you the photo. The gray powder looks identical to what you saw in the vial.

“Yeah, this looks the same.”

“Did it react to your touch? To heat?” Steve’s fingers curl around your arm, giving it a comforting squeeze, but all it does is make you throb all over. You want his fingers somewhere else, squeezing something else.

“Yes.” 

“Shit. Sorry, I know, language, but shit.” Steve squeezes your arm harder.

“What’s wrong, Buck?” He asks, starting to pull the phone away from you. 

“This stuff is bad, Steve,” Bucky says, worry seeping into his words. “If you two were in there together, you’re going to start feeling it soon too. It’s probably only delayed because the serum is fighting it off as best it can.”

“Feeling what?” Steve asks, eyes flicking between you and the phone.

Bucky pauses, probably finding a delicate way to break the news to Steve. If you didn’t feel like your heart was about to explode from your chest, you’d probably find it funny. “Aroused,” Bucky ends up saying. “So aroused that you feel like the only way you’ll survive is to… get it out of your system.”

Steve nearly drops the phone. He stares at you and releases your arm, taking a step back. You ache to feel his skin on yours again. Without it, you can barely stay standing. You sink to the floor, crouching low. The seam of your shorts digs into your panties, providing only a sliver of relief.

“Get it out of my system,” Steve states in disbelief. His voice is low and gruff, and it sends a pang of need through you. You fist the fabric of your shorts. Images of Steve’s hands gliding into the waistband, pressing down just where you need him, flood your mind. 

You can practically feel his calloused fingers dipping into your panties, rubbing circles into your clit while he kisses your neck, covering you in marks. It takes everything in you not to reach down and just do it yourself.

“And what if we don’t,” Steve asks, running his hand through his hair. “Get it out of our systems, I mean.”

Bucky takes a long moment before responding. “You’ll be in too much pain,” he says. “Steve, you might survive, but I’m not so sure about–” Steve abruptly cuts off Bucky, but you already heard.

“Fuck or die,” you whisper to yourself. You laugh at the thought, scaring Steve. He watches you with wide eyes as you giggle to yourself.

Your heart is tight in your chest, constricting so much that you’re surprised it’s still beating. The feeling that’s settled in your belly, the one that makes every brush of your panties against your clit feel torturous, can only be described as need. But it’s so much more than that… how does Steve not feel it? 

Steve keeps talking to Bucky, but you don’t hear any of it. Your blood is rushing in your ears, and the only thing you can think about is the way Steve’s gear is beginning to strain around his dick. Your mouth waters, more like floods, and you know that if you don’t get away from him this second, you’ll pounce.

Even though it feels like you’re going to die as you do it, you push yourself up and bolt out of the room. You stumble into a bedroom blindly, throwing the door closed behind you before you toss yourself onto the bed. The sheets are cool against your burning skin, and you waste no time tugging your shorts off and pulling your shirt up over your head.

Your clothes stick to you, but you manage to rid yourself of every scrap, leaving you naked and heaving on the bed. In an instant, your fingers are between your thighs. You’ve never been this wet before, never wanted to come so badly before. It’s pornographic, the way you’re touching yourself, but you can’t hold back.

For a second, you worry you’re being too loud, but the thought is washed away by your impending orgasm. It’s so close you can practically taste it, but as you begin to crest over the edge, it fades. Instead of satisfying you, all the orgasm accomplished was making you feel somehow worse. 

You don’t even startle when you hear a knock on the door. “Are you okay?” Steve asks. You know he’s blushing; you don’t need to see him. He’s always so shy about this stuff. You don’t even know if he’s dated before. He’s a closed book.

“No,” you whimper, circling your clit with your middle finger. Normally, you’d be too sensitive after coming, but it’s like it never happened. You could easily go again, and again, and again…

“Are– are– are you decent?” You groan out a laugh. It’s adorable. 

“No.” Your orgasm builds again, and this time you use your other hand to press two fingers inside of yourself. You can’t reach the spot you need to hit, but the fullness is nice. It’s still not enough. The second you fall over the edge, the pleasure is gone. No relief, just endless, relentless want.

“I’m gonna come in,” Steve tells you. For a moment you consider pulling the sheets over yourself, but the thought of being trapped under the stifling sheets makes you cry out. 

The door opens, the light of the hallway flooding in, and you take in the sight of Steve. His suit is unzipped down to his waist, revealing his white shirt that is plastered to his chest. It shows off every muscle, the dip of his waist. He looks disheveled. His face is flushed, but it’s different than when he comes back from a tough workout. He looks like a predator.

The way his eyes roam over you is full of heat and danger.

“Steve,” you whimper. He’s beside the bed a second later, chest heaving as he takes you in. “Please, Steve, it’s not working,” you babble, clutching the sheets beside you. “Nothing’s helping!”

“Bucky says you could die,” he whispers, clenching his fists. He battles with something internally, though you’re not sure what. “This isn’t the way I wanted it to happen.” You don’t have time to think about it because he’s kissing you. He holds your face in his hands and kisses you lifeless, breathless. The feeling of his lips on yours is like a salve, soothing some of your achings.

He pulls away only to push his suit down the rest of the way, revealing his tented shorts. He’s back on you in a second, and your fingers find the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over him. You know Steve always runs a little warm due to the serum, but he’s burning up just like you. The feeling of his skin pressed against yours is heaven, but you still need more.

“Oh my god, Steve,” you murmur as he kisses your neck. He’s being gentle, too fucking gentle considering the circumstances. “I need more, please. I need more.” Steve nods into your neck and moves his hands to your breasts.

His large hands cup you perfectly, palming you. His fingers find your nipples, and he toys with them, playing you like a fiddle as you writhe beneath him. Your hips grind against his dick, and he groans into you. It’s a sound you’ve never heard from him but one you’ve craved long before tonight.

“You’re killing me,” he moans, driving his hips against yours. You run your fingers down his back, scratching into those beautiful muscles, and pull him closer. 

“I need you, Steve.” Your voice comes out a whine, but Steve knows you’re in pain. He knows how much this is hurting both of you. He kisses you again before ridding himself of his shorts and briefs. 

Steve Rogers is built like a god. Like a mountain. In all his naked glory before you, he is a thing of beauty. For a moment, the noise in your head fades, and the severity of this moment comes into focus.

How long have you pined after Steve? How long have you wanted to tell him what you feel about him? 

This isn’t how I wanted it to happen.

It’s not how you want it to happen either, but maybe after all of this is over, you can fix things.

“I don’t feel like I can control myself right now,” Steve tells you, bringing you back to the situation at hand. His fist is wrapped around his cock, and he pumps it slowly, though you can tell it takes effort. 

“I feel the same way,” you say, attempting to comfort him. His brows are knit together with focus, but he nods. 

“Do you know if there are condoms anywhere?” he asks, somehow blushing harder. You shake your head, so Steve digs through the bedside table, then the cabinet in the bathroom, but comes up with nothing.

“I get the shot, and I’m clean,” you tell him, voice tight. Pain radiates through your body, making your toes curl.

“I’m clean.” As the words pass his lips, he climbs onto the bed. He settles between your legs, sitting back on his heels as he drinks in the sight of you. Your eyes devour him right back, eating up his muscular body, following the trail of his abs to his dick. He’s big, bigger than anything you’ve ever taken before, and you shudder at the thought of how he’ll stretch you. 

Your fingers grip the bed sheets, and you twitch just thinking about his dick. It sets something off in Steve; it’s like a switch flipped. He ducks his head down and takes your nipple into his mouth, one of his hands drifting down your body. His calloused skin scrapes against you, and you writhe beneath him. His fingers reach your clit, and he toys with it, tight quick circles that work you up, while his teeth graze your nipple. He nips at the skin around your breast, soothing each mark with his tongue, and the want that’s coiled in your belly seems to wind tighter.

He sinks lower, tongue tasting your skin as he descends until your legs rest on his shoulders and his lips are hovering over you. His breath is hot on your sensitive skin, and you do your best not to buck your hips.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he practically whispers before dipping down and dragging his tongue through your arousal. You burn at his words, grinding against his face. You’re past the point of being shy or embarrassed. He knows what you want. What you need.

“Steve,” you moan. The sound of his name on your lips sounds downright pornographic, and it spurs him on. He brings you right to the edge and grazes his teeth over your clit, sending you right over. This time, when you come, it feels so much better than when you’d been doing it to yourself. It only provides you a second of relief before the need returns.

Steve holds your legs apart, and his tongue darts out, licking his lower lip. You pant as you watch him sit up. He strokes his cock a few times before running the tip along your pussy. He collects your arousal, knocking your clit with his dick.

You can tell he feels conflicted. You don’t want him to regret this, to feel bad. “Stevie,” you whisper, pushing yourself up. Your body screams at you not to waste time, but this is more important. “Can I tell you something?” 

He nods, searching your eyes.

“I know it might sound stupid, but I’ve had a crush on you for forever,” you admit, trying not to drop his gaze. His lips part as he sucks in a breath. “I didn’t know how to tell you, and I didn’t want to live with you rejecting me.”

He shakes his head, “I wouldn’t have rejected you,” he whispers. “I’ve had feelings for you for a long time.” You grin at his words and lean forward, pressing a kiss to his abdomen.

“This isn’t how I wanted any of this to happen,” you say, echoing his earlier statement. “But I know you’ll take care of me. You’ll keep me safe. I wouldn’t want anyone else here with me.” Steve’s expression softens, and he leans down to kiss the top of your head.

“That’s right,” he says, guiding you to lie back down. “I’m gonna take real good care of you.” His words take on a possessive growl as he lines himself up with your pussy. He raises his eyebrows at you, silently asking if you’re ready.

“Please, Steve, please,” you beg. He pushes into you in one brutal thrust, stretching you around his length. You let out a guttural moan, and he starts moving. 

“Shit,” he grunts through gritted teeth. “You’re so tight, baby.” 

“Language,” you moan, earning you a slap to your inner thigh. Steve’s pace is punishing, his thrusts deep, and you feel him everywhere. His hands grip your hips, your breasts, your legs, anywhere he can get his hands on.

His focus is entirely on you, on bringing you right up to your peak. You’re so sensitive that it doesn’t take much to send you over the edge. Steve moans when you come and repositions you so your face is in the mattress and your ass is in the air.

When he pushes into you again, you feel him even deeper this time. The slam of his hips against your ass, his fingers digging into your hips, it’s almost too much. You crest again, chanting Steve’s name into the sheets. 

It feels like it lasts forever, but you can’t get enough. Steve whispers words of encouragement to you, but they’re laced with a filth you hadn’t expected from him.

Doing so good for me, baby. Squeezing me so tight. You look so perfect taking my dick.

It’s only after you’ve come down from your 6th orgasm, does your fever start to break. Steve has only come twice (only! You have no idea how he’s been able to keep going… must be the serum), but you can tell he’s getting worn out.

At some point, he’d pulled you to the edge of the bed so he could stand between your legs. Your ankles are hooked around his neck now, and you’re a puddle in his hands.

His fingers come up to touch your face, and he smiles. “Your fever is gone,” he tells you, slowly thrusting inside of you. “How do you feel?” You’re not sure you’ll even be able to speak, but you try anyways.

“So good,” you whisper. “So good, Stevie.” He leans down, bending you in half, and kisses you softly. He tugs your lower lip between his teeth before pulling back a bit. 

“Perfect.” He stays where he is with you bent in half and picks up his pace. Still, you can tell he’s already close to finishing again. He comes on a low groan that resonates through your whole body. You tilt your head up to kiss him again, and finally, that panicky need fades.

Steve pulls out of you gently, and you drop your head onto the mattress. Your body tingles all over, and you feel like you’re about to float away until you feel his tongue teasing your clit. 

“Stevie,” you whimper while you try and fail to wiggle away. 

“Please,” he whispers against your pussy. “You can give me another one, can’t you, baby? For me, please?” He licks your sensitive flesh with each word, begging you for just one more. And even though you’re sensitive, you don’t want to say no. 

Your fingers release the sheets and trail down to Steve’s head, where you tangle them in his hair. He understands what you’re asking. His tongue dips lower, licking up where his cum is leaking out of you and he pushes it back inside. He tastes every inch of you, soothing the soreness that is slowly starting to creep in. Your fingers tug his hair, guiding him to where you need him most, and he lets you.

The noises Steve makes as he eats you out are what put you over the edge one final time, and he laps it up eagerly. He presses kisses to the insides of your thighs before standing. You’re barely conscious as he carries you into the other bedroom and cleans you up.

As you’re beginning to fall asleep and he’s tucking you in, you hear his whispered words. “I’ll always be here to keep you safe. I’ll always take care of you.” Steve climbs into the bed and pulls you to his chest. He kisses your forehead, and you succumb to the warmth of sleep.

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[multiwreckedmess]

Kinktober Day 1

Prompt: Costume Pairing: San x fem!reader WC: 1,900 Summary: When you and your boyfriend have a minor disagreement on what to do for your halloween costumes, you hatch a plan to have him see your side.

This is a work of fiction, it does not represent San or any Ateez member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this. 

TW/CW under the cut

TW/CW: Sort of petplay, reader called “kitty”, “kitten” as well as “babe” and “sweetie”, oral (m. receiving), unprotected intercourse, finishing inside, tail plug mentioned. I think that’s about it.

Staring into the monochrome abyss of San’s closet you huff. “Babe? What are we wearing for Hongjoong’s Halloween party?”  He doesn’t turn from his game, frantic clicks of the mouse filing the space where his reply should be.  “Babe?” You ask again, foolishly hopeful.  More clicking, punctuated by a flood of curses under his breath.  You purse your lips and turn to him, the silhouette of his chair blocking him. “San?”  His fist slams into the table, “SHIT! Sorry. Dead. I got 1 minute. What? Sorry.”  “Costume. Halloween party?”  “I was thinking we’d buy a couples-”  “BUY?” Your eyes bug incredulously. The thought opens wide a can of childhood trauma. Years of your parents insisting that you create your costumes with clothes either from the second hand store or existing closet pieces with minimal single use articles. While others got to dress as Jesse from Toy Story or Cinderella, you had to figure out your best approximation of what a witch would look like in modern dress.  San’s brows furrow in confusion. “What? Yes? How else do you get a costume?”  “Where is your spirit of creation?! I might as well dress up like a cat if you’re just going to buy some shitty costume.”  San rolls his eyes, exasperated. “You can’t make a cat into a couples costume.”  “You go ahead and buy the costumes. I’ll put together mine and show you how much better it is.”

 It’s manipulative, you know it is, as you examine yourself in the mirror. You’d probably never wear this ensemble out, but it was about the message. Fuzzy ears clipped to the top of your head matched beautifully with the tail plug tickling the back of your thighs from under your skirt. It was almost unfair, almost.

 Leaning against the doorframe you watch him click away, unaware of the treat sitting mere meters away from him. You knock and wait patiently with a small smirk tugging at your lips.  “He-holy shit,” San turns and stops in his tracks, eyes racking over your body. Whatever he was doing or going to do long forgotten he launches himself from the computer chair. He whole body throbs for a second as his arms tighten around you and lift, moving you with ease. For a second he considers tossing you fully onto the mattress but decides better, it would be a waste instead placing you in the center of the bedroom. “Such a pretty kitty,” San purrs, pushing your hair behind your ear. Nails scratching lightly at your scalp, his eyes shine as as shiver runs down your body.  “So you like it?” You tug slightly at the half gloves covering your wrist, smoothing them taut to you. Small rubber paw prints adorn the palms, soft and squishy and pink. Your stockings have them too, just at the ball of the foot, with matching pretty pink bows at the tops of the thighs. You twirl, tripping lightly as the rubber paws grip the ground more than you’re prepared for. San’s arms wrap around you again and secure you as his chest blocking your tumble.  “Maybe a little dangerous to wear out,” he muses, hand trailing your spine.  “We’ll have to take care of that, won’t we kitty?” His mind feels hazy as the blood flow redirects southwards. He shouldn’t be as attracted to this outfit as he is. You just look so cute, so so SO cute it makes his head swim.

 It’s impossible to hide the pulse of interest in his sweatpants, comfy and breathable grey cotton leaving nothing to the imagination. “Take care of what?” You bat your eyelashes dumbly, prolonging the game. Your hands skim down to the waistband of his pants, feeling the flex of his lower abs as his breath catches. His own hand pushes up the back of your skirt, tugging lightly at the tail, stirring the plug within you just enough to make you whine.  “Don’t worry kitty, just follow me,” he smiles, palm cupping your ass. “get on your knees for me, won’t you?”  You’ve never dropped to your knees faster, looking up at his toned body with wide eyes. He barely moves his head to look down at you, only his eyes following. Your mouth waters, staring at the tented outline pressing insistently to the fabric.  “Be a good kitty and open your mouth for me,” his thumb strokes your cheek, your jaw softening and falling open in his hand. One handed, he pushes the top of his pants down, thick cock springing from the confines. Heavy and musky he taps the head on your outstretched  tongue, sucking in air through his teeth. It the eager twinkle in your eye as you patiently wait for his next instruction that stokes the fire in his gut. “That’s it, now just the tip sweetie, just a little lick for me,” he coaxes.

 Tongue flicking gently against the underside you listen for his breathy moan, mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. You barrage him with sweet kitten licks all over the head of his dick. As much as he can control his body he couldn’t control his expression, fighting to keep his eyes open his eyelids flutter. “Li’e tha’?” You ask, words slurred with your tongue lolling out.  “Just like that,” he sighs, “just keep your mouth open babe, let me do the work.” Letting the weight of his member rest heavily on your tongue you hold your head still, eyes fixed upwards, gazing at his face. Gathering your hair into a loose fist at the base of your scalp, his hips press forward into your inviting heat. It’s barely halfway down before he feels the resistant tight ring of your throat against him. Hazily he shallowly thrusts against it, the sound of your soft gags awakening something primal in him. Tears welling in your eyes you work hard to breath through your nose as he loses himself briefly to the rhythm. “Doin’ so well-,” he gasps, “a lil’ more. Such a good obedient kitty. A lil’ more for me.”

 Your core throbs impatiently, gut twisting and tightening. His choked back moans and lack of oxygen have you lightheaded, your own hand wandering between your thighs to provide some relief to your unattended sex. Subtle twitches of his thighs and cock tell you he’s close, an unrepressed moan burbling up from your lungs has him retreating quickly, strands of spit and salty precum bridging the gap in your bodies.  “Don’ wan’ cum?” You gulp and gasp, wiping your lips on the back of the arm warmers.  San shakes his head, eyes unfocused and breathing heavily.  You don’t have time to question why before he is pulling you up by your forearms and tossing you face down into the unmade sheets of the bed like you were little more than a misplaced pillow. He’s on you nearly as fast, hand running up the back of your thighs to your slit.  “Practically dripping,” he growls and giggles all at once, giddy. You push back on his hand with a moan.  “All for you,” your voice is horse and ragged.  “Good kitty.”

 The blunt pressure of his cock breaching your entrance forces a harsh exhale from you. Your skirt is bunched and balled into his fists at your waist, little more than makeshift handles for him to use as he pushes his way into your tight heat. The slickness of your arousal eases the push as his hips roll against you, deeper and deeper with each stroke until he’s fully seated in your cunt. Elated, you wiggle back at him, shaking the tail still snuggly held in by the plug.  San marvels at how your walls stretch and hug to accommodate his thickness. The audio visual experience of your small moans and tight hole eagerly sucking him back dulls his wits. For a moment he drops the skirt to palm your ass, spreading you so he can better watch himself disappear as he shallowly fucks into you, absentmindedly stroking the fur of the tail draped down your back. It’s just enough to jostle the plug, tight ring of muscle flexing to hold it in.  Your chest tightens and vision blurs, elbows faltering and falling cheek first into the mattress. “It feels good,” you try to say, only bubbles of spit and moans managing to make their way out of your mouth.  “You’re so fucked,” San laughs as his hips snap into you faster. “You’re so hot.”  “Fuuuuck,” you groan in agreement. “I’m fuuuuucked.” The words bounce with the shaking of your body, uncontrolled and automatic. San fists your strip of a skirt, using it as leverage to fuck into you harder and faster. You can hardly breathe as your orgasm rolls over you, one after another, walls clenching and spasming around his cock. Fingers claw at the bed, twitching as you pant and groan and swear underneath him.  He drops his hold on your skirt, unceremoniously allowing you to crumple to the bed as he pulls from you.  “Nooo,” you whine pitifully at the loss of sensation. Exhaustion plagues your muscles but your gut needs more, craves more. You ragdoll as he pushes you to your back, clambering between your thighs again. It’s rougher than he’s every been with you. You stomach flutters and flips and he practically folds you in half, pressing your knees up to your armpits and sliding back into you.  “Don’t worry kitty, you’ll get your treat,” he murmurs in your ear, breath tickling your jaw.  This angle is a different kind of intense, his body weight heavy on your lungs, restricting your airflow just enough to have you buzzing. His biceps flex as he holds himself and your legs up as best he can, your stockinged feet waving loosely in the air with each thrust. You hold onto him, clinging to his back with all your might. Your ears ring and rush as you lose yourself in his motions.  “Cum, please, cum,” you chant into his shoulder. “Fuck your cum into your cute kitten.” Spit and sweat commingling on your lips. You curl up, forehead pressed to the junction as you climax, vision darkening and eyelids fluttering.  You’d scream but your lungs are empty and diaphragm clenched. Everything burns from the inside out. Gasping, you bite down on his trapezius, his strangled groan of pleasure and surprise breaking through your haze as his hips stutter and slam as deep as he can go into you. The warmth of his release coats your walls as they work him.

 San whimpers and then giggles quietly.  “Sorrysorrysorrysorry,” you spew in a whispered prayer.  “Don’t apologize to me,” he kisses your cheek. “Intense right?”  You don’t answer, eyes closed in bliss. All is quiet except for your breaths and the occasional light smack of lips to skin as you pepper eachother with pecks. You let him lower your legs to the bed, release slightly seeping out around his cock as he moves you. “You like the costume?” You trade an obvious question with a second obvious question.  “Skirts ruined, sorry,” he giggles again. “Pussy ruined.””

 You glare at him. He shifts slightly, balancing himself on one arm as he grabs an errant ear from between the pillows. “See? Pussy ruined. Besides, not a couples costume so-” it was such a San answer, letting you win the battle but not the war.

I’m really not promising much if anything but I wanna write more frequently sooo here you go. As usual, please let me know if I am missing tags or if you’d like me to add any TW/CW that are sensitive for you to any upcoming fics!

Also i noticed the formatting is a little fucked on mobile i’m so sorry i think it’s that i copy paste in from another doc but like...it’s hard to tell. It’s the first paragraph. Sorry!!

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #ateez smut #san smut #choi san smut #atz smut #ateez kinktober

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

Today, once more we had Palestinian terrorists shooting at the houses of kibbutz Meirav in the Gilboa mountains. No injuries have been reported. The more grave news are that, for the second day in a row, Hezbollah managed to hit a city in Israel, this time Tzfat (in English: Safed), one of the 4 holy cities in Judaism. Hezbollah's rocket barrage caused the death of a young Israeli woman, and wounded 8, one of which is in a critical state.

Meanwhile, we got some good news, too. The mother and teenage son who were seriously hurt by Hezbollah's fire yesterday (see link above) have regained consciousness. Also, Luis Har and Fernando Merman, who had been rescued by the IDF from Hamas captivity in the Gazan city of Rafah, are being released from the hospital today. They obviously have a rehabilitation process to go through still, but this is a good sign.

The IDF has released footage it found of the leader of Hamas in Gaza, Yahya Sinwar, walking down a terror tunnel. The footage is from early in the war, CCTV from Oct 7, as he was evacuating from the northern part of Gaza, exploiting the humanitarian warning given to civilians to move to the south. He's seen with a woman and kids in that tunnel, presumably his wife and his own children. While the footage is older, the IDF got it recently, which shows that the Israeli presence in Gaza allows for the gathering of more and more intel on Hamas.

Speaking of Sinwar, the IDF also got to the bedroom that he, his wife and kids used underground, and among other things, they found there an insne amount of cash, as well as some luxury items like perfumes, which he prepared there, while he forced the people of Gaza to be evacuated into tents:

While South Africa is asking the International Court of Justice to tighten its provisional measures against Israel in light of a future ground operation in Rafah (I've mentioned that only those who are interested in saving Hamas and keeping the Israeli hostages as its assets, have a real reason to try and stop Israel from entering Rafah and destroying Hamas' last 4 regiments), the families of Israeli hostages have landed in Hague today, asking to file a complaint against Hamas and its crimes against humanity.

The Israeli health ministry is preparing for 20,000 people with disabilities due to injuries caused in the line of serving in the IDF by the end of 2024. I don't know how to put into words what this number, out of all able bodied young people fighting in this war, means in terms of our challenges as a soceity for years to come, but if you know something of the social crisis at the end of WWI, when so many young men returned from the war with injuries, amputations and the psychological harm that comes with them and the battles, and that there was a whole artistic movement (expressionism) changed and conveying this distress, then you have an idea of what this means. I'm even more grateful for programs such as the one I wrote about yesterday.

This is 25 years old Ionatan Dean Chaim.

He was born in the US to a Christian family, but fell in love with Judaism, and converted to it. He then chose to make aliyah to Israel all alone, while his family remains across the ocean. Immigration is always a difficult step, even more so if the person is alone, but he chose to do that. And even though he didn't have to, he decided to enter the Israeli army, to serve the state and the people which he chose to join. He was 3 weeks away from his discharge date, and his friends say he was already planning his post-army life, which he was killed by explosives that Hamas placed in a mosque in Gaza. His service is a testament to how much he loved and respected his chosen religion. The way he was killed is a testament to how much Hamas doesn't respect the religion in whose name they kill. Ionatan's friends said he was incredibly kind, and it was a privilege to know him. Even the city he lived in during his too short stay in Israel, Ramat Gan, published an official statement mourning his death. He chose to be one of us, and to pay a heavy price for it, and we choose to embrace him right back, even after he's gone. Ionatan is and always will be a part of us, flesh of our flesh.

May his memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #israelunderattack #Youtube