#now to actually take a break from drawing so my wrist doesn’t fall apart

[swifty-fox]

You blocked the door to the tomb

Well, I hope you let me out soon

These ropes were subtle and neat

You said it's OCD

I remember the silly cartoons

And the smell of summer afternoons

The lost cause of dying in a room

Where you were born to be

- Manic Memories by Des Rocs

Oh you thought I was done with this story?! I think not!!!

#fae tales au #fae tales #efnisien ap wledig #swiftyart #falling falling stars #not-poignant #now to actually take a break from drawing so my wrist doesn’t fall apart #need me a kadek to yell me into shape tbh #I won’t be taking a break jk

[scaramouche-bully]

THAT POST ABOUT OVERSTIM MADE ME REALIZE HOW MUCH I WANT TO DESTROY CHILDE HELP. CAN U WRITE SMTH WHERE HIS S/O USUALLY BOTTOMS BUT WANTS TO TRY TOPPING HIM AND HE JUST KEEPS TRYING TO FLUSTER HER AND TEASE HER AND SHE GETS SO ANNOYED THAT SHE JUST FUCKS HIM STUPID 💕💕

— ☆ Wrecking T*rtaglia headcanons

Includes: Childe

[ Top ] Female reader

Contains: Overstimulation, bratty sub, mind break, sub space, aphrodisiacs, anal gaping, dacryphilia, degradation, size kink, slapping, choking, cock-stepping, humiliation, rough sex, stomach bulge, multiple orgasms, masochism + sadism.

— ☆ Overstimulation headcanons - Xiao, Childe, and Scaramouche 🐏 [ GN ]  

— ☆ Bratty Sub headcanons - Kaeya, Diluc, Xiao, and Childe 🐑 [ GN ]

[ masterlist ]

Welcome to the "Bully T*rtaglia" club, we are currently taking applications (u‿ฺu✿ฺ). My original draft was sweet but then my computer crashed and I lost everything. So I'm going to channel all my anger into destroying this man (consensually, I promise the ending is soft.).

— ☆ Childe

When you bring up the idea of you topping him, he doesn't take you seriously but he's open to it. While he thinks it's cute that you want to try new things, he's so much bigger than you, and being on top is actually a lot of work compared to being a pillow princess. Are you sure you can handle it?

One of the big issues that came up during your first times was Childe's competitive nature and how fast his recovery time was. He could have came three times and then suddenly flip you on your back and fuck your brains out instead.

Even when he had the patience to be the sub, he would constantly taunt you and be an insufferable brat. Constantly disrespecting you and trying to fluster you. Always reaching down to finger fuck you even when he was stuffed full.

So the next time you brought him a drink, you decided to add something extra. Sitting patiently as he thanked you and downed the entire cup. It only took a few minutes before he began to squirm in his seat.

Childe's face was slowly growing redder and redder, soft pants breaking through the quiet office, his eyes darting to you before settling on the ground. It was amusing seeing him be so quiet rather than running his mouth off every minute. It's only when you start to walk over him in feign concern does he break out of his haze.

Stumbling over himself as he makes wild hand gestures to stop you but as soon as you round his desk, you see his cock straining against his pants, and the embarrassment flood Childe's face. Trying to laugh it off, you're just so pretty he can't help himself, but he's quickly cut off when you prop yourself up onto his desk and step on his cock.

"W-Wait-" Childe groans as his hips buck into your shoe as he grinds against it. Clutching the hand rests of his chair as he leans his head against your knee, soft keens slipping out as you run your fingers through his matted hair as he humps against you. He makes a confused noise when you suddenly tip his chin up, smile sweetly at him, before he's sprawled on the ground as you slap him.

"When did I say you could touch me?" you shot him a cruel look that sent shudders up his spine but also made his cock throb. Whatever you fed him was slowly making him lose his senses until there was just you, you, you. He whines, still on his back, when you take a seat in his chair and dig your shoe onto his dick, randomly applying pressure here and there, his pre-cum wetting his pants as he yelps at the pain. His hands flying up to lift your foot away but he catches himself as chooses to claw his fingers into the wooden flooring instead as he reaches his peak. It's so empowering seeing the man who used to fuck you stupid, whimper and cry as he cums in his pants just from you stepping on his dick.

"P-Please...ah! mm...wha?" Childe looks down confused to see that even after just orgasming, his cock is still hard. His body is so hot that if he doesn't cum again, he feels like he's going to die. He's tries to lift himself onto his elbows and unbutton his pants before you kick him in the chest and send him back down. He's disorientated from the fall when he feels you sit on his chest, cupping his face in your hands to lift him, before slamming his head down. You're almost ripping his hair out with every yank and slap you abuse him with as he yelps like a dog.

"You filthy whore. Did I say you could cum? You ungrateful brat," you spit out as Childe wails in pain, almost knocking you off when he seizes up and shakes. You don't even need to check to know he came again, "Maybe I should gag you and throw you onto the streets. Let everyone here know how much of a pig you are. Is that it what you want?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" his voice is choked up from his tears as he cries over himself. You almost feel bad but he's basically useless in this state, sniffling over himself as he apologizes over and over again. You softly coo at him as you lean over and kiss him sweetly, taking his arms and placing them on your waist as he grips onto you like a lifeline.

"There there Childe. It's alright now, we're going to teach you how to be a good boy. That's what you want right?" you whisper to him as he nods. You pull yourself up even as he grips onto your clothing to stay with him as you unclasp the buttons of his pants and free his cock. Still red and hard in your hands as if he hadn't already orgasmed twice in the span of a few minutes. He's already so wet with pre-come that you don't even need to find lube to jack him off. Ignoring his moans and screams to stop, he's still sensitive, you take him to the hilt in your mouth. Quickly pinning his hips from jerking upwards and choking you, you're the image of content as you swallow around his cock as Childe throws his head back and sobs as he cums down your throat.

“Pl-please, please, mmn- put it in me, please…” he manages to pant you, his mind melted as his eyes blink in and out of consciousness. His body is still burning hot and he can't escape the feeling of being empty. He wants to be filled with your cock, stuffed fill until he can't live without being fucked by you. You've completely ruined him.

"It seems we still have a long way to go. You really are a disappointment Childe," you sigh as you wipe away the stray cum dripping from your mouth as you reach over and feed it to him. He whines low in the throat at tasteing himself but feeling you touch him in some way is the only thing grounding him before you pull away and stand up, "Go on. Finger yourself open for me."

"W-Wha?"

"Childe. I said. Finger yourself open. I won't repeat myself again."

He quickly nods, not ready to disobey you again, as he lifts himself up to get his pants fully off. He knows what you want and it makes the fire in him burn hotter. Using his own pre-come with shaky hands, he reaches over to hold his legs up for you, and circles around his rim before dipping inside. The embarrassment of holding himself open like this and your watchful gaze almost has him cumming again but he can't. He wants to be good. He does his best to spread himself open at this awkward angle but he soon loses himself. He should feel ashamed for getting off on someone watching him but it makes him finger himself deeper and harder. He's taken out of his pleasurable moment when he feels your hand join his. Taking one hand as you spread his ass to see his loose hole. The pre-cum from his cock slowly leaking down. You're absentmindedly lacing your fingers inside him, before pulling both your hands out as you line your strap on to his rim. He didn't even notice you put it on.

"Did you know I had to fake every orgasm because you were such a sloppy fuck? Perhaps I should show you how to fuck someone properly," is the only warning he gets before you grip his hips until your fingernails draw blood, before slamming into him. He throws his head back and chokes on his screams as his cock shoots cum all over his chest.

"Who said you could come?" you spit out as you grip his cock and squeeze harshly as he screams. The overstimulation is too much, it hurts. He's desperately trying to push you away but whatever strength he built is lost. Only able to lay there and take it. He looks down to see his stomach bulge with every thrust you make, the image of you rearranging his insides sends him flying as he tries to cum again but the death grip you have on him, he just can't. He's full-on sobbing as you continue to abuse his prostate, he's going to break, you're breaking him.

"nO! P-PLEASE! STO-" he begging as you continue to pound into him. You push even further, until your cock fully inside him now, and stay there rubbing right up against his prostate. Watching amused as Childe tries to shudder to the large intrusion, the never-ending pressure on his sensitive spots makes him almost feral. You swear he has hearts in his eyes right now.

"Pleasepleaseplease-"

You pull out slowly, just until the tip is inside him, before gripping his wrists as leverage and ruthless slamming into him. Childe parts his hips in a voiceless cry as you finally break his mind and fuck him dumb. He scrambles against the floor as he tries to find anything to ground him, trying to fuck himself back on your cock as he drools all over the floor. His vision leaves him as all his senses focused on the harsh drag of your cock in him, the wet slapping noise that fills the room, and the tears that slip from his eyes down to the floor. His cock throbs with each thrust you force into his body, thighs jerking, as his tongue lolls out.

"Oh!--mh, m-more!" Childe babbles deliriously, he's being reduced to nothing but a warm hole for you to fill whenever you feel like it. Reduced from a harbinger to a whore for you to use. He feels the breath get punched out of his lungs as his abdomen stretches and burns. His hole clenching around your dick that you have to forcefully yank him down to stuff him, "Hahh, you're tearing me o-open."

"You disgusting whore. Can you feel it?" you mock as you take one hand to spread his ass apart, you see his hole is red and puffy, pre-cum from his semi-hard cock leaking down where you're both connected. He shudders that you've fucked him so bad that his hole is gaping. It's when you reach over and clasp both of your hands around his neck and squeeze that he comes crashing down. Wheezing at the lack of oxygen that makes him see white, he feels so warm and content, mind filled with bliss, as he cums. Waves upon waves of pleasure crash into him as his cock finally softens as he relaxes and drifts off into space before slowly losing consciousness.

--- You slowly blink awake to soft kisses being placed on your neck, Childe's lazy form cuddled up to you as you stroke his hair. He's always so clingy the morning after. "Are you feeling alright? I was a bit mean wasn't I?" you ask a bit embarrassed as memories of last night flood your mind. You know you both agreed on what your limits were but you couldn't help but feel a bit worried you may have pushed him too far. Childe props himself on his elbow to smile dumbly at you, you were perfect.

"It was alright I suppose," he chuckles when you lightly punch him in the chest, "I didn't think you would try and drug me like that. You know I could get you arrested for that. " "Ha! Good luck finding someone that will fulfill your perverted fantasies. Besides you're the one that wanted to experiment with them and don't phrase it like that either," you shake your head at him before leaning up to kiss him. When you pull away you take notice of all the bruises and marks you left on him. There's a small part of you that purrs at the claim you made but you quickly shoo it away. It's too early for that. If your back is hurting you have no idea how Childe is faring. "Here, let me get you some water and let me see your head," you offer, pulling yourself up before Childe's arm wraps around you and pulls you down to lay beside him. Placing his weight on top of you so you can't squirm away, even as you swat at his back he smothers you until you give up.

"Stay with me."

"Hah...alright. Just for a bit."

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #childe smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #childe x reader #genshin impact childe x reader #childe headcanons #childe imagines #genshin impact childe #genshin childe x reader

[inkandpen22]

Chaotic as The Sea (3/?)

Pairing: Jack Sparrow x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3k Warning: swearing, violence Part Summary: The Black Pearl arrives in Bimini and as any adventure with Jack Sparrow, there’s chaos

Masterlist

Two days later... 

Will

We arrive at Bimini as the sun begins to set. Y/N and Barbosa argue that we should wait until sunrise to explore the island. I argue that we can't waste another minute without trying to rescue Elizabeth. Jack, to my surprise, agrees that we shouldn't wait. Though, I think his reasoning is because he wants to see the fountain. 

Barbosa, Jack, Gibbs, Ragetti, Pintel, Y/N, and I all hop off the boat to explore the island. Gibbs, Will, and Pintel all carry long torches for us as the only sources of light. 

"Okay, so I know the general direction, but unless you feel like risking the chance of getting lost, which I don't, I suggest we use the compass," Y/N announces. 

"I thought you were certain of the fountain's location," Barbosa remarks a tad agitated. 

"Every tree and speck of white sand look exactly the same. Next trip, I'll drop your ass in a jungle in the middle of the night and tell you to find your way out!" She snaps. 

"Okay, well then let's use the compass." Ragetti takes the compass of Jack's belt and hands it to Y/N. 

The device begins to spin in her hand and Ragetti peeks over her shoulder. Jack quietly moves to stand beside her, wishing to catch a glimpse of himself. 

Abruptly, Y/N shuts the compass and frantically tries to get rid of it. "Oh uh, no it's okay, Jack can take it." She tosses it to him. 

"Me?" He looks at her wide-eyed and panicky. "No, give it to Will! He wants to find the bloody place." He tosses it to me. 

"What's wrong with you two?" Barbosa yells in frustration. 

"The compass doesn't work for them," I state. 

"Seriously!" Y/N huffs. 

"What the hell are you talking about?" Barbosa questions. 

"When Jack holds it the arrow points to Y/N," I explain pointing between them. 

"Who told you that!" Jack questions. 

Then, Jack and Y/N both glare at Gibbs. "Gibbs!" They bark in unison. 

The older man holds up his hands in surrender. 

"Well, why can't Y/N do it?" Pintel questions timidly, circling his hands together. 

"Why can't Will just bloody do it and we can move on!" The woman challenges. 

Jack nods. "I'm with her on this one." 

I sigh. "When Y/N holds it, it points toward whatever she wants so bad in New France." 

"But isn't New France North of here?" Ragetti questions. 

"Yes!" The rest of us answer in unison. 

His face scrunches together in confusion. "But uh-" 

Y/N elbows Ragetti in the ribs. "Shut it!" She's quick to change the subject. "Let's go! Will! I'll lead the way, you just act as a checker." 

_______________________________________________

30 minutes later... 

Y/N

As the seven of us continue to march through the thick jungle, Jack appears beside me. "After we're finished in New France. I say you and I pay a visit to Tortuga for old time's sake." 

I laugh. "Ha! Wish to relive our break-up?" 

"Think of it as a celebration of our reunion," he tries to sugarcoat it. 

I roll my eyes, laughing as I move ahead to join Will up front. "In your dreams!" 

Ragetti

I pick up my pace to catch up with Pintel. "I know something you don't know!" 

"What?" He eagerly asks. 

"When Y/N was holding the compass, the arrow was pointing toward her," I whisper. 

His face scrunches together. "Y/N desires herself?" 

"No!" I huff. "Jack was standing next to her!" 

He gasps, putting it all together. "So you mean-" 

"Yes!" 

He grins. "That's kinda sweet actually." 

Y/N

"Now be careful!" I announce to the men, watching my step as we get closer to the mountainside. "The natives made pit traps and other boobytraps-" 

Before I can finish my warning. Jack screams from the back of the group. When I whip my head around, Jack is nowhere to be seen. "For idiots like Jack," I sigh. 

"Does anyone see him?" Will questions, moving his torch around. 

"It's kind of dark!" Gibbs remarks. 

"Thank Jack and Will for that! They refused to wait until morning," I grumble, marching back to where I last saw Jack.  

"Jack!" We all call in a scatter as we search. 

"Captain!" Gibbs shouts. 

We all watch our steps, checking the heavily covered jungle floor and sky for any sign of him. He could be hanging from a tree in a net or in a hole somewhere. If it's deep enough and well covered, it'll be hard to hear him.

"This is ridiculous!" Gibbs huffs. 

"I say we leave him and tell the crew some natives got him," Barbosa suggests.  

"I have an idea," I announce as one pops into my head. "Give me the compass," I ask Will, holding out my head. 

"But how will that help?" He questions with a raised brow. 

I hold the compass in my palm and lift the lid. I watch as the arrow spins. Soon, each of the men are gathered around me in a circle, eager to catch a glimpse. Then, the arrow stops, pointing Southeast. The men break apart, allowing me to follow it. 

"Watch your step," I advise. 

I keep a close eye on the arrow, making sure it doesn't change direction. I'm about to take another step when Will suddenly grabs my arm. I glance ahead and realize there's a massive pit in front of me. Its edges were covered in leaves and brush. 

"Oh, thanks," I exhale deeply. 

"Captain! You down there?" Gibbs shouts down below, holding a torch above the massive pit. 

I kneel down beside the pit and await an answer. 

There's a faint, "Am I dead?" 

I giggle and shout back. "No, you're not dead you idiot!" 

"Pintel! Ragetti! Go fetch a rope from the ship!" Barbosa commands, sending the two off. 

I laugh, relieved that Jack is okay. Based on the distant swooshing sound, the pit is filled with water thankfully, not spikes. This could've been a recovery mission. I sit back on my knees and glance up to find the remaining three men staring at me with knowing grins. 

"What!" I sass, crossing my arms over my chest. 

"Nothing," they all say, breaking apart to roam in different directions. 

I roll my eyes, such nosy people, pirates. 

____________________________________________

The men work together, yanking Jack up from the bottom of the pit. I remained to kneel beside the edge, holding up a torch so we can see Jack when he pops up. 

"Ho!" Barbosa calls out as they tug the robe. "Ho!" 

Soon, Jack appears from within the darkness and I grip his belt, guiding him to safety. The men release the rope and relax, releasing panting breaths. 

"You okay? Captain!" Gibbs questions. 

"Yeah," Jack flips onto his back, catching his breath, "yeah, I should be fine. How did you-" His eyes flicker about until his eyes land on the compass on the ground beside me. 

"Ah, now that's interesting." A cheeky smirk begins to form on his face as he lifts his gaze to meet mine. 

I shove him in the shoulder, frustrated. "I told you to watch where you were going!" He has no idea how worried I was. 

"I was a tad distracted by you, Love," he chuckles. 

My eyes fall shut as I release a sigh of relief. Thank God, he's okay. 

Jack places his hand on my thigh, capturing me by surprise. His dark eyes meet might and I place my hand over his. He flips his over and they interlock in my lap. His eyes soften at the sight. 

Suddenly, there's a series of yells from across the jungle. Each of us tosses our heads to the side and sees small glimmers of light in the distance. Jack flies up beside me from his laid position. 

"Are they with us?" He questions. 

There's the ring of a gunshot and the bullet hits the tree right by Barbosa's head. 

"Don't think so!" Will declares, his voice shaky. 

"Who are they?" I shout. 

"Wait! They're Black Beard's men! I remember one of them. He's the one who took Elizabeth!" Will determines. 

“How did they find the fountain?” Barbosa yells. 

“He knew you’d come and find me!” I comprehend and look over at Jack. “He’s been following us here!” 

Pintel and Ragetti immediately make a run for it. 

“I’m with them, time to go!” Will decides and starts to run back to the ship. 

Jack takes my hand and instantly brings me to my feet. We begin to run too, hand in hand. 

“Cowards!” Barbosa shouts and stands his ground. He whips out his gun and begins to shoot at the mob. “Come and get it you slimy gits! Ha!” He laughs. 

Running utterly blind in the dark jungle, there’s hardly any light other than that that can make it through the tree tops from the moon. We make it through the jungle and see the beach a few yards ahead. Will and the two morons make a bee-line for the ship, when they’re suddenly stopped by a cluster of Blackbeard’s men running from down the beach. Jack pulls me into his side and draws his sword.

 Suddenly, I feel a hand wrap around my wrist and I’m yanked away from Jack. He immediately whips around and his eyes grow wide. My back slams into someone’s chest and I struggle to free myself. More of Blackbeard’s men appear from within the jungle and begin to fight Jack. Two men begin to drag me off and I fling around, trying to break free. 

"Jack!" I scream. “Let me go you bastards!” 

Jack searches for me and when he finally spots me, he screams. "No!" He looks at me pleading and full of guilt. 

As more of Blackbeard’s men appear, we both quickly realize there’s nothing either of us can do. These morons are taking me to their ship, more than likely to see their captain and to be held prisoner. This is yet another reunion I did not request. 

______________________________________

After sailing out to the Queen Anne's Revenge a couple hundred yards from the island, the nasty men take me aboard and immediately drag me off to the captain’s quarters. They swing open the double doors below top deck and we enter a familiar red velvet decorated office. 

A tall man stands behind the desk with his back to us. "And who do we have here?" A familiar voice purrs. When he spins around, his grin falls to confusion. "Y/N?" 

"I told you! Idiots!" I huff and yank my arms free from his buffoons."Hi, Eddie," I offer a fake smile.

"Eddie?" The pair beside me repeat in unison. 

The captain pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "How many times must I tell you?" 

"You could hand me the Templar Treasure yourself, I won't call you Blackbeard. It's stupid," I laugh, approaching him. 

"Leave us," he commands his minions. Once we’re allow, he moves to stand the other side of his desk. He props himself against it with a grin. "So, you and Jack are back together again..." 

"No way in hell," I snicker, taking a look about his office. He’s changed it in the last five years. "He promised me he knew where the Templar Treasure was, I'm simply completing my half of the deal." 

"Which is?" He inquires. 

I stop my admiring of his decor to meet his gaze. "Showing him to the fountain." 

"You would honestly betray me like that?" He acts offended my placing his hand against his chest. 

"If it guaranteed me the Holy Grail? Yes,” I stand firm. 

"Your loyalties still lie with that treasure? You truly are a pirate at heart,” he smirks. He rises from his position on the desk to pour us chalices of wine. As he approaches me, his eyes travel up and down my entirety. "Dare I say, you look amazing." 

I accept the wine, but roll my eyes at his compliment. "Oh save it.” 

He pouts dramatically. "What happened to the spirited eighteen-year-old I first met?” He reaches up and tucks strands of my hair behind my ear. “You're bitter now." 

I lift my arm and knock his hand away from me. "It's called maturing." 

"Have you matured enough to conclude that I'm the better man than Jack?" He smirks, stepping closer to me. 

I move away from him and toward the book case against the far wall behind his desk. "I think I prefer neither of you,” I answer over my shoulder. 

"One point, if I recall correctly, there was a point where you couldn't choose between us." He narrows his eyes, taking a sip of his wine as he creeps closer to me again. "Do you remember those few months in Bermuda?" 

I shift of my heels, allowing my eyes to fall to the Persian rug beneath them. "It was always going to be him, Eddie..." 

Abruptly, he rushes toward me and pins me against the bookcase. My wine falls out of my hand and stains the rug. "I could've had you if I wanted!" He growls. 

I look him dead in the eyes with a clenched jaw. "You dare threaten me!” 

He laughs mockingly. "What? Going to curse me?" 

I grin. "That used to terrify you if I recall correctly." 

"You're all bark and no bite. I happen to know for a fact, you don't practice dark magic!" He challenges. 

"Just because I don't practice it, doesn't mean I don't know how to use it.”  

There’s a commotion outside and soon the double doors swing open to reveal Jack marching in, gun drawn. While Eddie is distracted I pick up a vase off one of the shelves near me and I knock him over the head with it. The vase shatters into a hundred pieces over his head and the man falls to the ground with a thud at my feet. My chest rises and falls rapidly as I meet Jack’s gaze. His eyes flicker away from the man knocked out on the floor and up to me. 

"I hate that I'm relieved to see you," I pant. 

He runs over to me and takes my hand. "Consequence of loving me." He guides me over to one of the windows and swings it open. “Can you jump?” 

I look at him as though he as three heads. “Can you jump? What kind of dumb question is that?” I mock. Then, I ask him a similar dumb question. “I don’t know Jack, can you swim?” I roll my eyes and climb up onto the windowpane and jump out. 

“Jesus, Mary, and the bloody camel sorry for asking!” I hear him grumble under his breath as climbs out the window and jumps in after me. 

___________________________________

Jack

We’re not sure how we’ll get Elizabeth back, but we will. Though, I suspect that he was never after the fountain. No, what he truly wanted was Y/N and the fountain was just a cover-up. I brought her right to him. For now, we just need to create some distance between us so we can form a plan. 

Y/N climbs the ladder above me and Gibbs helps her on board. She offers him a thank you and brushes herself down. The crew is well into their tasks, getting us far from this island as soon as possible. 

“Glad to see you’re safe, Miss,” Gibbs greets. 

“Did everyone make it back okay?” She questions as I climb aboard. 

“Yes, even I,” Barbosa announces with a proud grin. “Not with the help of you lot,” he adds. 

“Don’t exactly have a death wish,” she giggles. 

“There’s a change of clothes for you in the Captain’s office,” Gibbs informs her. 

She offers him thanks and begins toward my quarters. Barbosa and Gibbs break apart to return to their positions. 

“You! Hold it!” I call out. 

The two men glance in my direction, wondering who I’m speaking to. They follow my gaze to Y/N. 

She whips her head around, her gorgeous, long, wavy, Y/H/C flowing in the breeze. She crosses her arms over chest. “Excuse me?” She scoffs with a grin forming on her lips. 

I narrow my gaze at her. “I have one question.” 

Barbosa and Gibbs watch the interaction, their heads tilting back and forth between us with each exchange. The crew too watches as they attempt to multitask with their duties. Her eyes remain on the deck panels and anywhere else but me. 

“Did you know the compass would lead you to me?” I ask. 

There’s a pause and I can tell she’s reluctant to answer despite the amused expression she wears. Then, her eyes rise to meet mine with a sigh. “Yes... maybe...” 

I smirk, approaching her slowly. “Oh see now that’s interesting, don’t you think?” 

“What? Just going to gloat about the ship now?” She rolls her eyes, directing her focus in the distance away from me. 

I bring my hands up to her cup her face and make her meet my gaze. To my surprise and pleasure, she doesn’t move from her spot or shove me away. Instead, brings her fingers to hook through the loops of belt. 

“You stay with me from now on. No more hiding out.” I smirk. “That’s an order,” I tease quietly between us. 

“Whatever you say...” Her eyes fall to my lips and then flicker back to my eyes. She grins. “Captain.” 

One my hands slips behind her head to her neck and I bring my lips to meet hers in a needy kiss. Her arms fling over my shoulders, deepening the kiss. 

“Now they’re going to be insufferable!” I hear Barbosa grumble to Gibbs as he stomps off. 

Five years of searching for her, waiting for, wondering if I’ll ever see her again. What happened between us all those years ago is one of my greatest regrets if not the biggest. Our relationship has never been easy, in fact it’s exceedingly complicated and one giant headache. We haven’t stopped arguing since the moment we met and rarely agree on anything. Yet, we love as we do argue with each other, passionately and with everything we have. Now that I have Y/N back and I know she loves me in return, I’m never letting her go. God help me if I let Blackbeard anywhere near her. 

_______________________________

Masterlist

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#pirates of the caribbean #pirates of the carribean imagine #jack sparrow imagine #jack sparrow #jack sparrow fanfic #jack sparrow x reader #PotC #will turner #elizabeth swann

[silversatoru]

Ok ok- don’t judge me but get this- College AU, Where Ereh and his friends all go to a nearby maid cafe and turns out his s/o works there, and his s/o is wearing a EXTREMELY short maid outfit and she starts to flirt with Eren’s friends, and basically Eren had enough and dragged his s/o to a bathroom stall, and fucked them calling y/n their little slut, etc. and fucked them so hard they couldn’t work the rest of the day- BYE- 🏃🏻‍♀️ 💨 🚪

maid cafe

a/n: i would never judge you for this???? your mind is incredible and this idea has corrupted my brain for days,, please send more of your wonderful ideas to my inbox. and please let me know what u think bc i truly hope i did u proud

eren yeager x female maid cafe!reader

synopsis: eren and his friends go to a maid cafe and his new girlfriend is their waitress — so he drags her to the bathroom and makes sure she knows who she belongs to

tags/warnings: smut, dom/sub, degrading, mild humiliation, mirror sex, public sex, mentions of drug use

word count: 3.4k

“hey, we should check out that maid cafe downtown. i heard the waitresses are fine,” jean smirked as he proposed the idea, passing a blunt he’d just finished rolling over to eren.

eren graciously accepted the weed, but clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes at jean’s new idea for their friday night. a maid cafe wasn’t particularly up his alley -- he’d just started dating you a few weeks ago and didn’t have any interest in drooling over other women all night. but he was bored and if everyone else wanted to go, he supposed he’d tag along too.

“hell yeah, pretty girls in short skirts sounds good to me,” connie jived, a giddy smile on his face as he blew out some smoke from his own blunt.

“don’t you think that kind of place is a little disrespectful, guys? we shouldn’t view women as-”

“you’re too uptight armin, maybe we can find a nice girl to suck you off and loosen you up a little bit” jean laughed and cut him off as the blonde boy continued to give his immature friends a disapproving look.

“whatever i’m in, just let me finish this first,” eren held up his blunt and took another long drag, “i wont be able to stand you assholes all night if im not high”.

the four of them hung around their shared four-bedroom college apartment a little longer, finishing up their smoke sesh and flinging half-assed insults at one another. the sky was already getting dusky by the time they actually left and were walking through the small, bustling town surrounding their campus. the cafe wasn’t too far, maybe a thirty minute walk, but it was a beautiful spring night and shit, gas is expensive.

armin’s face was horribly flushed when they finally arrived and entered the front door, the poor boy completely unable to even make eye contact with the hostess standing in front of them. his shyness earned him a swift elbow from eren — his way of telling the blonde boy to relax a little bit.

the young hostess spoke to them in a sing-song tone, her hair perfectly curled to frame her face and her cheeks pink with blush. connie and jean completely ate up everything she was doing, gawking at her like a bunch of losers who hadn’t gotten laid in way too long — which is exactly what they were. eren was almost relieved when she finally sat them at a table and walked away, because he couldn’t stand to listen to jeans' horrendous attempt at flirting any longer.

everything on the menu had cute names that matched the theme of the cafe, and while eren and armin browsed the options, connie and jean continued to whisper about the different waitresses and which one they hoped they got.

as for you, it had been a pretty uneventful night, normal customers and nothing too crazy — that was until you walked up to the newest table you were assigned and saw your boyfriend and his friends sitting around the booth. eren and you hadn’t been dating all that long, a few weeks at most, and you hadn’t even met any of these friends yet. anxiety began to pool in your chest, but you tried your best to put on your best voice and greet them like they were any other table — after all, eren was staring so intently at the menu that he hadn't even noticed you yet.

“welcome home, masters! can i get any drinks for you?” you push your voice up to a high octave and make sure to draw out the word masters — it was the opening line that every waitress was required to use by the cafe.

two of the four boys are ogling at you so intensely that they might as well have drool hanging off their desperate lips. a third boy is keeping his eyes fixated on the table as if he doesn’t want to look at you — which is something you’re not quite used to. and eren is staring at you with his mouth gaping open, which he quickly shuts before any of his friends can notice.

he decided to sit back and watch, an amused look on his face as you continue to flaunt your extra-girly facade. he decides that now isn’t a great time for introductions to his bonehead friends — plus he knows you’re nothing like this in real life, so it’s entertaining to watch you act so out of character.

not to mention you look hot as fuck in your skimpy maid outfit — the tight corset-like top hugged your breasts perfectly and your skirt was so short he could practically see the base of your ass cheeks. he could definitely get used to seeing you like this.

but his amusement quickly started to fade as connie and jean shamelessly showered you in compliments and flirted with you like their lives depended on it. and what makes it worse is you’re playing along — he gets that it’s your job but still, can’t you just tell them to shut the fuck up?

he shoots the two idiots across from him a dirty look as soon as you walk away, “hey dumbasses, cut the girl a break”.

“hey man, i didn't hear you call dibs or anything,” connie raised an eyebrow at him.

“yeah dude, we’re just fucking around, chill,” jean added, a light laugh hanging off his last word.

eren couldn’t do anything but roll his eyes in response. he didn’t want to outright expose your relationship yet but he wouldn’t be able sit here and watch this all night either.

his blood was practically boiling when you returned with a tray full of their drinks. connie and jean turned their charms right back on for you, and fuck, if he had to hear you call them “master” one more time he was gonna lose his mind.

“armin get the fuck out of the booth,” he glared at the blonde boy, practically pushing him out of the booth so he could get to you.

armin yet out a small yelp, clambering out of his seat and letting eren climb out after him. the dark haired boy gave you the sweetest smile, but his eyes were lit up like flames.

“hey, mind showing me where the bathrooms are?”

you find yourself frozen in place for just a second, but quickly recover and give him a quick “of course master, follow me!”

the two of you walk to the bathroom in silence, but you can practically feel the heat radiating off of eren.

when you reached the restrooms you opened the door for him and bowed your head, but he grabbed your wrist and yanked you inside behind him, earning a small yelp from you. you noticed him snap the lock down behind him, and before you could even question his motives you were backed into a wall with his lips working roughly against yours.

“so this is what you do all day? walk around with your ass hanging out while calling people master?” he growled in your ear while moving down towards your neck and placing violent kisses along the sensitive skin.

“i- ah- if it bothers you-“ you breath out between gasps, your hands pressed defensively to his chest, “god, you reek of pot, eren”.

“no, it doesn't bother me, i love watching you flirt with other men. but let me remind you who you actually belong to now,” he murmured, voice dripping with sarcasm as he nibbled up to your ear and his hands fondled with the zipper at the back of your uniform.

“eren!” a strangled yelp leapt from your throat as he unzipped you and let your costume fall around your ankles.

for a second you thought about trying to stop him, but his hot lips against your cool skin was starting to win you over. your neck was undoubtedly covered in bruised love marks now, your skin aching in the most beautiful way.

“take it all off,” he mumbled into your ear as he snapped the strap of your bra against your skin.

“we’re in a bathroom eren, i don’t-“ you tried to reason with him, but any inkling of a rational thought was long gone from his mind.

“what’s with all the protests? you had no problem following orders when my friends were the ones giving them,” he cocked an eyebrow at you and lifted his loose shirt over his head in one swift motion.

you could have retorted or made a jab back at him, but your attention was caught up in the perfect lines of eren’s physique. between the sculpted curves of each of his muscles, his dark hair tied in a loose knot at the base of his neck, and the evil smirk across his lips, you were rendered indefensible. everything about eren was so intoxicating, and the idea of letting him have his way with you right now, in this bathroom, was starting to sound less and less like a bad idea. you weren’t sure how long you’d been staring and admiring when his lusty voice filled your ears again.

“did you forget how to use that pretty mouth of yours? i’m sure i can give you a little refresher,” he faked a frown and pointed to the floor with his index finger.

without a shred of reluctance you sunk to his feet. he had you in a state of utter compliance now, and all he had to do was mutter a few arrogant words and take off his shirt — you were almost ashamed, almost.

after a few smooth movements of his fingers against the drawstrings of his sweats, the tip of his member was hanging mere centimeters from your face. you glanced up at him with giant eyes as he stared down at you with his clouded ones. between his raging hunger for your body and the high that was still clouding his mind, there wasn't a single coherent thought in eren’s head other than the way your lips would feel wrapped around his cock.

“open up, princess. if you wanna act like a slut, i’ll treat you like one,” he grabbed the back of your head and forced it forward.

your lips parted without even thinking, and he thrusted his full length down your throat without any warning. you were left coughing and sputtering, the walls of your throat constricting against his cock and sending a few curses from his lips.

he slowed down slightly after that, but kept a steady pace as he mouth-fucked you until tears were leaking down your cheeks. you were gagging and coughing and your face was stained with salty saline but you loved every second of it. his head rolled back as raspy grunts fell from between his teeth, his fist tightening at your scalp.

after he thought you’d finally had enough he pulled back and released your hair from his steel grip. his cock was aching now, coated in a thick layer of your sticky saliva and yearning for more.

“get on the counter,” he ordered, and you scrambled to your feet in a way that was embarrassingly desperate.

you boosted yourself up onto the cool countertop, positioned perfectly between two sinks and leaning back against the mirror. eren placed a firm grip on each of your legs, shoving them open and snickering at the slick patch of fabric between your thighs.

“you like being treated like a whore, don’t you?” he clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth and reached down at your panties before yanking them off in one fell swoop.

he squatted down so his face was level with your cunt, sticking out his tongue and dragging it up to your clit with antagonizing slowness. he moved the warm muscle up and down, sliding it between your folds and in circles around your clit — but his tongue was just barely making contact. and every time you bucked your hips towards him, begging and yearning for just a little more he’d pull his head back and click his tongue at you.

you were aching, leaking, and so incredibly needy for him and he knew it. he’d transformed you into the crumpled mess laying before him in a matter of minutes, and he was very proud of it.

“i’d start begging if i were you, or i’ll leave you here like this — a stupid broken slut with no one to fuck her,” he stood up and cocked his head to the side before beginning to tease your entrance with a single finger.

“ah- eren, please! i’ll do whatever you want,” you whimpered at him, a pitiful look on your face.

“eren? you know you’re not supposed to call customers by their name here,” he shook his head, “you’ll have to do better than that”.

“please- master, use me however you want. just please fuck me already”.

that seemed to suffice for eren, because after that it didn’t take long for him to shealth himself inside you and have your sweaty back slamming into the glass mirror behind you. strangled moans and pitiful whimpers slipped from between your lips, your eyes rolling back into your head in complete bliss. he’d teased and tormented you for so long that the sudden intense stimulation was almost too much.

he fucked himself into you so hard you thought you might break — your legs ached and your back hurt from awkwardly leaning into the mirror. but those feelings were quickly pushed to the back of your head because the overwhelming pleasure was so forceful that you could barely focus on anything else. eren’s length was grinding deep into your aching caverns so good that it was completely clouding your brain.

you let out a stifled gasp when he abruptly pulled out, leaving you feeling empty and aching for more.

“why-,” your voice was so destitute and so, so desperate.

“shut up and stand in front of me,” he commanded, pulling you off the counter and twisting you so you were facing the bathroom mirror.

“look at yourself in the mirror and watch me fuck you,” he practically snarled, placing a palm on your back and pushing your chest down against the counter, “look at how much of a slut you are for me”.

the only response that came out of your mouth was a tiny whine of acceptance — it was pathetic.

a breathy moan fell from your lips as he slid back in, and your cheeks blushed a dark shade of red as you watched yourself get fucked from behind. it was embarrassing, humiliating even, having to see yourself like this, but what made it even worse was that you fucking liked it.

“look at yourself,” he nodded towards the mirror, picking up his pace and tightening his grip on your hips, “just a dumb whore who’s good for nothing but taking orders from other people”.

“only- you!” you let out a strangled yelp.

“what was that? i don’t think i heard you,” he thrusted hard, reaching deeper than he had the entire time and then leaning over your back so his head was positioned right next to yours.

“say it again,” he murmured, burning holes through your eyes with how intensely he was staring at you in the mirror.

“i’m a dumb whore, but only for- you,” you repeated, squirming and whining at the painful pleasure he was forcing into you.

“that’s right,” he flashed you a satisfied grin, standing back up and resuming his original pace.

the sudden shift had you clawing at the smooth countertops — desperately wishing you had a pillow or sheet to grasp onto for some kind of support. you flinched when you felt a couple of his cool fingertips find your clit, immediately rubbing hasty circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“i want you to come for me,” he locked eyes with you in the mirror again, “and i want you to think about how i’m the only one who will ever make you feel this good the entire time”.

his words were harsh but they sounded like honey when they flowed through your pathetically devoted ears. between his consistent thrusts and the pads of his fingers working their magic, you were a pitiful mess of whimpers and moans in a matter of minutes. your body twitching and legs shaking as you mumbled his name over and over — it was the only word your brain could comprehend right now.

seeing you like that nearly pushed eren over the edge himself, but he forced himself to last a little longer, wanting to milk your orgasm for everything that it was. he was genuine when he said no one else would ever make you feel the way he could — your head was spinning and your body was on a high that felt like it would never end.

only once your body finally fell limp and tired, signifying that your climax had ended, did he pull out and spray his seed all over your exposed back. you were a sticky, sweaty mess and your legs didn’t have the strength to stand even after eren was done coming down from his own high.

your face was buried in your arms when you felt a wet paper towel cleaning up the mess of semen off your back. eren tossed the towel into the garbage and wrapped his arms under your torso so he could help your pitiful self stand up. you let out a few pained whimpers, stumbling into his arms and wrapping your hands around his neck.

“that bad, huh? how are you gonna go back out there and work for all your masters? i’m sure they’re waiting,” he smirked at you, and there was no sympathy in his voice.

“i- i don’t think i can,” you whined, clinging to him as your legs continued to shake underneath you.

eren shook his head and clicked his tongue, helping you over to your clothes and assisting you with getting back into your uniform. even after getting dressed your legs refused to work — you were a shaky, stumbling mess. you sat in a pitiful heap against the tiled wall while you watched eren get his own clothes back on.

“i think you might need a new job,” he snickered, squatting down and lifting you onto his back once he was dressed.

you graciously climbed onto his back, arms wrapping around his neck and burying your face into his neck, “yeah, yeah i’ll get a new job”.

“good idea, because everyone’s about to see how pathetic you are as we walk through the cafe,” he wrapped his arms back under your backside to support your weight.

“there’s a back exit right down the hall, please take that one,” you begged, “please”.

“well. since you asked so nicely and did so well i guess you deserve that,” he complied, exiting the bathroom and following your directions to the back door.

but because you have the worst luck in the world, one of the cafe managers came walking right around the corner just as the two of you were about to leave. you buried your head deeper into eren’s neck, unbearable amounts of embarrassment and shame flooding your veins.

“hey man, she quits, sorry!” eren yelled and handled it for you, dashing out the back door before the manager could even comprehend what he’d just seen.

“thank you,” you mumbled into his shirt, and you were truly thankful that you didn’t have to speak for yourself in there.

“no problem, princess,” he adjusted one of his hands so he could squeeze your ass, making you jump against his back, “let’s head back to my house for round two, yeah?”

“r-round two?” you stuttered.

you could barely handle round one, and he was ready to go again? how!?

“i’m joking, relax. let’s go watch a movie or something,” he chuckled, hoisting you higher on his back and beginning your long walk back to his apartment.

you sighed and sunk into his back, that sounded nice. there was a huge difference in how eren acted earlier and how he was acting now, but you were a sucker for both personalities. you expected college to consist of classes and work and maybe a few new friends but meeting eren yeager was sure to make it a lot more interesting.

#attack on titan smut #aot smut #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyoujin smut #eren yeager #eren #eren yeager smut #eren smut #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x reader #eren x reader #eren x reader smut #smut #eren jeager smut #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager x you #attack on titan x reader

[zodiakuroo]

Cupid’s Bullet

Dabi comes home with a very special Valentine’s Day surprise for you.

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Contains: dubcon/noncon, mentions of death, unhealthy relationship, gun play, fear play, forced orgasms, squirting, mindbreak, angst (if you squint?), quirk usage, one slap but it’s a hard one :3, overstimulation, creampie

Word count: 5.3k

Notes: pls this title is so cringe but it's like bullet instead of arrow cause... ya know but anyways happy valentine’s day from scumbag boyfie!dabi

Dating a villain meant that your relationship was unconventional to say the least. For one, public dates were out of the question, unless you wanted it to end in destruction of public property and some scorched heroes. You also always had to have some kind of flimsy excuse for your family and friends when they asked to meet your elusive boyfriend. In addition, you had to accept the fact that he would have to disappear sometimes for weeks on end to do his boss’ bidding.

There was also the small matter of arson, murder and theft and a multitude of other crimes that you’d prefer not to know about. And while you weren’t necessarily okay with a lot of what Dabi did, you loved him. You loved him so much that turning a blind eye was so easy it made you question your own morality. He didn’t scare you either. Not in the slightest, because you knew in his own special way, he loved you too.

In fact it ran much deeper than that. On his worst days, Dabi could set the world ablaze until nothing was left because in the end he didn’t care about anyone or anything, not even himself. Until he met you, he says. He tells you that in you, he’s found something to tether him to this existence.

Ok so maybe he didn’t use those words exactly, but he doesn’t have to. You know that’s what he means when he spoils you with expensive, stolen clothes and jewellery, when he offers to burn alive any person who makes you even the tiniest bit upset and when he comes home to you bloodied and beaten, trusting you to take care of him.

In summary, your relationship forced you to give up on having any “normal couple” experiences.  That included, celebrating anniversaries and silly holidays like Valentine’s Day so you never bothered to keep track of them. It could hardly be considered a sacrifice when you compared those things to what you actually got from your relationship.

Dabi had been gone for close to a month now and you didn’t expect him back anytime soon, not knowing where he was or what he was doing. In fact the very last thing you expected was for him to creep into your bedroom in the middle of night and rouse you from your peaceful sleep with a soft kiss on your temple.

You don’t jump out of bed in a panic, like any sane person would. Instead you let out a satisfied hum, surrounded by the scent of burnt flesh, ash and menthol, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. It should be unpleasant but its Dabi’s scent and you’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. You pick your phone up from your night stand, squinting your eyes at the bright light that makes them sting.

Sunday 14 February, 2:43am

“Welcome home.” You mumble groggily, trying your best to fight off your tired body urging you to go back to sleep.

Instead of replying, he greets you by pressing his mouth to yours. You let out a quiet gasp, startled by the sudden display of affection. His lips are chapped but that doesn’t matter, your tongue darts out to moisten them before your lips lock into a gentle kiss.

You reach up, weaving your hands through his dark hair in an attempt to draw him closer but he retreats, opting instead to turn on the bedside lamp but keeping his other hand behind his back. “Sit up doll. Got a surprise for ya.”

Any thoughts of sleep were long forgotten as soon as his lips met yours but now he’s really piqued your interest. You push yourself up against the headboard and sit cross-legged. You look up at Dabi expectantly. Your boyfriend is smiling wide, skin pulled so taut you think one of his staples might give out. He reveals to you what he has hidden behind his back. A square black box, wrapped in a cobalt satin ribbon.

It’s so cliché you can’t help but let out a small snort. “What is it?”

“It’s a gift. You know… for Valentine’s Day?” He says as though it should be obvious to you.

Your heart swells at the gesture. It really was a surprise. Not in a bad way, you just knew he wasn’t your average boyfriend and that was okay. You didn’t want him to be.

“Well now I feel awful. I didn’t get you anything.” You pout as he props the box onto your lap.

“’S like a toy… so it’s technically for you but kinda for both of us.” It’s unusual to see Dabi this excited. The way he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes filled with mirth makes you all the more curious.

“Like a sex toy?” A giggle escapes you as you undo the bow.

“Are we playing fuckin’ 20 questions? Just open it.” He presses you.

You huff at his impatience but you don’t comment, not wanting to wait any longer either. You remove the lid of the box only to find something wildly unexpected.

A revolver?

You look up at your boyfriend with confusion etched on your face but his gleeful grin doesn’t falter. You’ve never seen a sex toy like this so you pick up the article to test its weight. It’s definitely the real deal.

“Dabi, this isn’t a toy.” You state matter-of-factly.

He merely rolls his eyes and says “Doll, when you can incinerate someone with a flick of your wrist, that little thing is definitely considered a toy?”

“O-okay? What do you want to do with it?” You ask, placing offending object onto your nightstand, not really wanting to hold on to it anymore, the metallic smell making you feel queasy.

“Ever heard of Russian Roulette?” Dabi, picks up the abandoned item, looking down at it with pride.

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows as nervousness starts to creep into your system and you instinctively move to back away from him but Dabi is quick to pull you back.

“It’s real easy doll. No need to look so scared.” He crawls on top of you, caging you in with his limbs. “6 chambers. 1 bullet. All you have to do is be a good girl for me. If not, I pull the trigger and we see what happens.”

The look on his face is positively demented. Azure eyes wide and bright, patchwork face contorted into a a sinister smile, white teeth and silver staples gleaming in the dim light.

“Baby,” you hope the pet name will placate him. It usually does. “I don’t know about thi-“

CLICK

You let out a shriek as your body jolts in fear but you’re unable to move with his weight pressing on top of you.

“You see now doll?” He clicks his tongue behind his teeth. “You’ve gone and wasted a shot.”

Dabi climbs off of you and you’re left lying there with your heart hammering violently in your chest, body trembling, still reeling from the shock of what just happened. Reeling from the shock of what is happening

“You gonna listen now? Gonna be good?” Dabi prompts, rolling the gun around in his hand.

All you can do is nod as your eyes being to water. The uneasy feeling in your stomach only grows worse as your mind races with the possible things Dabi has in store for you.

“Good. Now strip.” He command and like a good girl, you obey.

Your arms feel like they’re made of lead, moving rigidly to take off your shirt (one of Dabi’s old ones). You can’t stop the tears from falling as you pull down your panties, fat droplets roll down your cheeks, desperately trying to swallow the sounds of your sobbing.

This can’t be happening. It’s Dabi. He wouldn’t hurt you. He promised you that.

“Oh cut the fuckin’ waterworks.” He snaps. “As long as you listen, you’ll be fine.”

You try to calm yourself with deep breaths, not wanting to irritate him any further.

When you turn to face him, he’s leaning back on his haunches, one hand resting on his thigh, the other lazily gripping the revolver. “Fair warning, I’m more of a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ kinda guy. But you know that already.” He thumbs the cylinder, making it spin. “Now, touch yourself for me.”

Breathing is difficult. No matter how much you try, it’s like you can’t get enough air into your lungs. Thinking only of gun in your boyfriend’s hand, you still you bring your own hand between your legs, but you can’t concentrate, what with the dread taking over your body making it tough to have any control of your body. Your movements are stiff and apparently not up to Dabi’s standards.

He only scoffs before-

CLICK

You scream again, body nearly flying off the bed before you curl yourself up into a ball. The fright is enough to stop your heart. For a second you believe it has.

“Doll,” Dabi’s gruff voice brings you back to earth, reminding you that you’re very much alive and whether or not you stay that way is entirely up to him. “You’re ruining my surprise. Got it ‘specially for you and now you’re being a brat.” He quirks an eyebrow at you, almost like a challenge.

“So-sorry.-“ your voice breaks. “I’ll be good.”

You’re still struggling to comprehend how any of this is real. You thought you knew him. You thought he loved you. And here he is, treating your life like it’s a game. You can’t help but think that this is your own fault. You thought you were above everyone else, the exception to your boyfriend’s villain behaviour.

“Yeah?” His voice drops to a whisper. “Then show me.” He challenges you. Dabi slips off his t-shirt and moves between your legs to get a better view, pressing on your knees to split them apart.

Self-preservation kicks in. There is one way out of this alive and that’s doing what he says. You spread yourself even wider, showing him all of you. Your hands, glide over your smooth thighs, kneading the pudgy flesh as you get closer and closer your sex, teasing yourself the way he would.  Your fingers find your clit and just a little pressure makes your eyes melt shut. Probably for best anyway. It makes it easier to imagine anything but this. You drag those fingers through your delicate folds, letting out breathy sighs as heat begins to bloom between your thighs.

You pretend, its Dabi’s touch. In your mind’s eye you see the two of you, limbs tangled with Dabi on top, resting his forehead against yours. It’s one of those nights where he wants to go slow. So slow that the sensation of his cock dragging in and out of is you bordering on torturous. It’s one of those nights where he wants to lay his head on your chest, mouthing at your breasts, laving your nipples with his wet tongue while you tell him, in that sensual voice  that you love him, that he’s perfect, that he’s yours.  Because it’s one of those nights, where everything feels like too much for him and the only person that he really has on his side is you.

It’s not long before you’re leaking. Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, there’s a voice chastising you for being so easy for him… even now. There’s almost no resistance as two of your fingers, press into your entrance. Your fingers are no match for Dabi’s, they never hit all those deep, hidden spots  that make you see stars but still, you start to move them slowly, brushing your thumb over your clit every so often.

“Look at me.” You feel his breath waft over your pussy.

Eyelids fluttering open and you meet his gaze. It stuns you a little and your hands come to a standstill. He is handsome, breathtakingly so, even though he thinks you’re lying whenever you when you tell him that. The way he stares at you, with love and adoration in his eyes, it’s almost like the fantasy you were just imagining. Almost like the fantasy you’ve been living in this whole time. It’s enough to make you forget the situation you’re in. Then the muzzle of the gun is pressed to your clit, snapping you back to reality fast enough to give you whiplash.

“Fucking slut.” He growls and smacks your hand away from your pussy.

You jerk as he starts to move it the gun circles over your sensitive nub and then dipping down to your tight slit to gather up your juices.

“All those fuckin’ tears but look how wet you are.” He says more to himself than you as he admires the way your slick leaves a sheen on the barrel. With his eyes trained directly on yours, his perfectly pink tongue pokes out to lick it clean, groaning at the taste.

The next thing you know his arms are wrapped around your legs, guiding them over his broad shoulders. He kisses you on your mons before his tongue begins greedily lapping at your hole. “Tastes so good doll.” He mutters with his nose pressed against your clit. He slips the wet muscle inside of you making you whine.  You reflexively grab onto his black hair, tugging on the stands and he lets out a groan of approval. He moves up to your clit, circling it with his tongue before suckling on it. While he brushes just the tip of a finger over your cunt, making it clench around nothing while you desperately buck your hips, in an attempt to have it inside you.

The way he’s eating you out is almost romantic?

Or it would be, if it weren’t for the metal digging into your flesh.

“Doll,” He places a sloppy kiss on your clit, lighting dragging his teeth over the hood. “Want you to squirt for me.”

A lump forms in your throat. You can count on one hand the amount of times that has happened. You’re not sure of the odds that you’d be able to right now and it’s not a gamble you’re willing to take. “Dabi, I don’t think I can….”

CLICK

You thrash, screaming so loud it makes your throat burn.

Dabi still holds you open, keeping you in place. “I wasn’t asking.” He makes sure to maintain eye contact as he drops a fat glob of spit right on to your clit before diving face first into your cunt once again.

He pushes 2 of his long, lithe fingers into your tight entrance. It’s unexpected and you wince. He drags his right hand (the one holding the gun) up your torso, resting the muzzle underneath your breast, right over your racing heart. A reminder of what’s at stake. He envelopes your sensitive clit with his lips, moving his fingers in tandem with the suction. You’re consumed by desire as Dabi brings you so close to the edge.

“Dee-Deeper please.” Your pant out.

He smiles against your mound before complying with your request. “Right here?” His fingers press against that squishy patch deep inside you and your eyes roll back.

“Nnnggg yeah.” You’re barely able to mewl out. You dig your heels into his back and grind against his face, chasing your high. Dabi keeps hitting that spot with astonishing precision but you hold off for as long as you can, letting the pleasurable sensation build until the pressure in your core becomes unbearable. When it finally snaps because you can’t hold it anymore, your eyes squeeze shut, hands flying to his biceps and you dig your nails into the sinewy muscle. You gush around his fingers and all over his face. Dabi doesn’t move though, flicking your clit with his tongue repeatedly until you’re trembling and whimpering, pushing him away from your pussy. He finally relents, a pop echoing around the room as he lets go of you.

He gives you a predatory look, scared face and chest wet with the remnants of your orgasm. “You made such a mess baby but I’m glad you’re finally having fun.” He’s just as out of breath as you are but far more composed.

Your head is still fuzzy and limbs are still twitching but your boyfriend doesn’t let you recover. “C’mon, doll. My turn.” He begins to undo his belt, silver buckle clinking as he rushes to drag it through the loops of his jeans

You pull yourself on to all fours, now eye level with his crotch. He pulls down his pants and boxers in one go, his erection almost hitting you in the face.

“You’ve been lucky so far.” He taps the bulbous head of his cock on your lips, smearing your lips with the pre that dribbles out of it. “But I wouldn’t test it if I were you. Open.”

Your mouth is already watering at the sight of him. So long, thick and veiny. It’s disgusting actually, this Pavlovian response. He fucks you deeper, stretches you wider and makes you feel better than anyone ever had. You wonder briefly, if anyone ever could fuck you as good as Dabi.

You stick out your tongue and he slides himself between your lips, groaning as he pushes into your mouth, slowly, inch by inch. He fills your mouth completely and you shut your eyes, savouring the salty taste of him but you feel the muzzle press against your temple and making them shoot open. “Atta girl. Lemme see those pretty eyes.” He grunts as he plunges into your throat. You bob your head up and down his shaft, the hand at the back of your head setting a brutal pace. The room is filled with the sounds of you gagging and his hefty sac smacking against your chin.

“So good to me baby.” He tilts his head back, losing himself in the pleasure. The wet heat of your mouth surrounding him while your saliva leaks out, dripping down his balls. Dabi is big and heavy, stretching you so wide and making you jaw ache from the weight of him. You’re already lightheaded from the lack of air, no matter how much you try breathing through your nose. You don’t dare to complain though.

He pulls out of your mouth slowly, stretching a string of saliva from the head of his dick to your tongue that’s hanging out of your mouth. You pant like a bitch attempting to catch your breath. He doesn’t give you much time before he’s in your throat again, back to fucking your face.

“I love you so much. You love me?” He sounds so sweet, totally blissed out.

He stops thrusting and tilts your head up to look at him, blinking tear-clumped lashes. You try utter a ‘Yes, I love you.’ but with his shaft gagging you, it comes out all garbled. The muscles in your throat convulse around the deep intrusion. “You’d do anything for me right?” He asks, jabbing the muzzle even harder into your temple, finger resting lightly on the trigger. You nod, watching Dabi lose his composure bit by bit. “Yeah. That’s why you’re my girl.” He pushes himself even deeper inside you, making you finally take all of him, until your nose meets his pubic hair and holding you there. “Fuck.”

CLICK

“Hmmhhhhngggh” You squeal around him but you can’t pull off because of the grip he has on your scalp. When he lets you go you’re choking and coughing up a lewd mixture of spit and pre-cum.

“Wh- Why” You blubber, voice hoarse. You don’t understand. You were doing exactly what he asked. You were being good.

“Sorry baby. Felt so good, my finger slipped.” He doesn’t even try to hide his mischievous smirk. The fucker is definitely not sorry.

You want to beg him to stop this ridiculous game because you see now there’s no way you can win because Dabi doesn’t play fair.

He doesn’t give you the chance though, already shuffling off his bottoms all the way and propping himself up against the headboard. “C’mon pretty baby.” He tugs on your ankle.  Wanna see you bounce on my dick.”

You clumsily position yourself atop his lap quickly, before you can even think about it. You know he doesn’t need a reason to pull that trigger but still, you don’t want to give him one.

He grinds his tip along your heat, piercings dragging across your clit over and over again. It’s something he does whenever you have sex, to rile you up. And just like all those other times, it’s working. Circumstances be damned. “Needa feel this hot little pussy. Give it to me doll.” He murmurs against the shell of your ear.

You nod as you lift yourself off of him to hover your dripping wet hole over his hard dick. You slowly squat down on onto him, the fat head stretching you out, burning with every inch you take. You mewl, making futile attempts to blink away tears. You get halfway before you have to stop, resting your hands on his shoulders trying to gain leverage. You’re outright crying now, wet droplets landing on Dabi’s chest.

“’S matter doll.”

I’m terrified. You yell in your head but stay silent, choosing to focus on relaxing your ever-tightening hole in order to take more of him.

“Oh, I know.” He coos, voice dripping with condescension. “’S too big for your tiny cunny.” He leans forward to kiss away the salty tears. “But you can take it. I know you can.” He cups your jaw, stroking your cheek with a calloused thumb. “You can do it for me”

You start to move slowly up and down, using gravity to force more of his monstrous cock inside you with shallow movements. You really are trying your best but that’s apparently not good enough for Dabi and he lets you know that by pressing the barrel of the gun into your stomach. You freeze, horrified, more tears start falling from your eyes. You open your mouth to beg him to just give you a little time. You’re trying.

“Quit being a baby and just take it.” He says before you even get the chance.

“I’m trying Dabi, please just-“

CLICK

He cuts off your plea.  He’s not interested in your excuses.

The rotation of the cylinder sends vibrations through your abdomen. Amidst the shock, you release your grip on his shoulders and impale yourself on his shaft by mistake. The combination of the searing stretch and the blunt head of his cock kissing your cervix is so overwhelming that you collapse forward, head falling on to your boyfriend’s chest. You feel the rumbles of his chuckles while he’s quite literally splitting you open.

“See? Knew you could. Just needed a little scare. Isn’t that right.” He rubs your back as if to comfort you. He lets out a low whistle. “But looks like you’re all out of chances doll. Now bounce.” He gives you a spank with an inhumanly warm hand, making you squeal and leaving your cheek tender.  

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders again. Dabi’s sapphire eyes are practically glowing, daring you to be stupid enough to defy him one more time.

You pull off almost entirely, keeping just his tip inside of you, before spearing his shaft into you again.

“Good girl.” When he praises you with that raspy voice makes you keen and desperate for more of it.

His hand snakes its way up your torso to cup one of your breasts. Your back arches, pushing into his scorching hot touch, forgetting momentarily about his other hand and what he’s holding in it.  He gropes your chest, tweaks and twists at your nipples, leaving red, inflamed hand prints in his wake. You’re practically delirious with pleasure, babbling out incoherent streams of his name along with “yes” and “more”.  All the while, he murmurs praises about how good you are and how much he loves you. It’s confusing and you can’t process any of it.

“Who owns this perfect pussy?”

“Dabi. Fuck. Dabi.” Your tongue lolls out of your mouth in the most obscene way, drooling down your chin. Your plush walls pulse around him as he hits that sensitive spot every time you sink down on him.

“That’s right it’s all fuckin mine. My pretty baby.” Dabi’s eyes are focus on where your two bodies are connected watching the translucent ring of your cream appear and disappear as you ride him.

“Preeeettyyy.” You slur and he laughs at how fucked out you are, brain completely jumbled between the fear, the pain and the bliss all combined into ecstasy.

“Doll.” He groans. “I feel ya squeezin’ me. You gonna cum?”

He’s right. You nod as you feel that coil tightening again, threatening to snap at any second. The man finally starts putting in work, pounding into you every time you pull off of him. Dabi abandons the gun in favour of playing with your clit, rubbing quick sloppy circles. “Yeah? Gonna cream and gush around me? Want you to baby.” He buries his head in the crook of your neck, sucking, biting and licking while he assaults your sopping wet pussy. “C’mon doll, please.”

With that you orgasm. He grabs your hips pulling you flush against his thighs, fucking you through your orgasm, rolling his hips up into you until your high finally subsides.

He doesn’t let you catch your breath before he’s got the revolver pressed hard underneath your chin. “Now make me cum.” You almost collapse but the harsh grip he has on your hair suspends you upright.

Your mind is so foggy and Dabi gives you a small smile, appreciating the perplexed look in your droopy eyes. But he’s not done with you yet.

“Hey.” You’re ripped from your daze, when he slaps you across the face, sending your head swinging to the side. “Don’t pass out on me now.”  

“So-sorry! ‘M sorry!” You grovel as you slam your tired body down on his dick once again, trying to ignore the throbbing on your cheek, the ringing in your ears, and the ache in your battered cunt.  You’re so sensitive from your last orgasm but you don’t have a choice and you don’t dare deny him anything. Your thighs are quaking and burning with every movement but your boyfriend is unimpressed.

“You can do better than that doll.” He lets out a bitter laugh, enjoying every second of tormenting you. “It’s like you want your brains splattered on the ceiling.”

You start crying again, shaking your head frantically. In the time that you’ve been with Dabi, you’ve learned certain tricks, you know he likes it, but in this panic/lust induced frenzy, you can’t remember any of them. Instead, you bounce, mindlessly on him while your gummy walls clench tighter around him every time he nudges at your a-spot. Your legs are going numb from all the effort and you plop down, limp onto his lap, taking him to the hilt.

Dabi tsks at you, reminding you that you can’t rest just yet. You swivel your hips, grinding your pelvis against his while he’s buried deep in your wet heat. You pray to whatever deity is listening that he’s getting close, you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“If I don’t bust in the next 5 seconds.” His hand finds your clit again, you grind across his fingers has you rock against him. “Bang!” He emphasises the word by bringing a heated palm down on your ass.

A choked sob bubbles at the back of your throat, making him snicker

Hands pressed to his chest, you ride him like a woman possessed, the last bits of adrenaline kicking in. Your sloppy cunt squelches every time you drive yourself down on his cock just motivating you to fuck him harder.

“Five.” He grits out.

“Dabi, please!” But you’re met with icy, apathetic eyes staring back at you, feeling the terror that the rest of the city does when they so much as hear his name.

“Four.” He rubs your already raw clit, faster and you can feel another orgasm building, much quicker than your last two.

Your body feels so heavy but you can’t stop moving, not unless you want him to- “Please cum!” You beg. “Need your cum.”

“Three.”

He starts to fuck up into you again with unforgiving force.

“Wh-Why?!” is all you can manage as your mind starts to fog up again, the need to come becoming all the more urgent.

“Two.” He ignores your question, transfixed on your tits bounce in his face. You’re getting close to your third orgasm of the night and it seems Dabi is determined to get you there.

You still can’t believe this is real. You never thought that Dabi would treat you like this. You were supposed to be special.

Or at least that’s what he told you.

Moreover, you can’t believe how your own body is betraying you. You can’t believe you’re actually going to cum. Again.

“One.”

You cry out his name one last time, unsure if it’s out of fear or pleasure. You dig your nails into his arms again, in a feeble attempt to ground yourself as you cum around him. The orgasm that rips through you makes it difficult for you to be sure of anything.

What you are sure of is the fact that there was no bang or bullet.

Just one last CLICK (practically drowned out by your screaming) and the sensation of Dabi’s hot cum flooding your womb. He has a bruising grip on your hips, gun now discarded, and he ruts up into to making sure to stuff your cunt absolutely full of him. He begins to laugh as he softens inside you.

Your head is still spinning but once you’re able to push yourself off of him, you can finally make sense of what just happened.

He was fucking with you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You yell, using weak and quivering arms to throw pillows at him while you cry so hard it makes you dry heave.

Your asshole of a boyfriend starts cackling, clutching his abdomen as if he just pulled the world’s funniest prank while your heart is beating so hard and fast you think it might break through your ribcage.

“You should have seen your face. You were so fuckin’ scared.”

You become nauseous, feeling bile rising in your throat as you come to a sickening realisation.

This is not your Dabi. This is the Dabi that the rest of the world gets to see.

Evil, sadistic, merciless. This is the real Dabi.

You attempt to scramble off of the bed to get away from him, feeling overwhelmed by the humiliation. But Dabi grabs your wrist and yanks you into his chest, wrapping you up in his arms. A gesture you used to treasure but now it just made your skin crawl. “C’mon Doll you didn’t think I was being serious did you?”

You writhe in his hold, hitting against his hard, toned chest with pathetic fists. “Don’t be such a crybaby. It was just a joke.” He strokes your hair oh so tenderly. But you won’t fall for that again. Dabi is a villain through and through. You know that now.  

It’s no use fighting him off though, all the fight in you is used up. You don’t know what else to do. So you do the easy thing: nuzzle your head into his chest, tremors rocking your body as you hiccup, while he holds you. That way you can pretend that you feel safe with him, just like you used to.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, doll. I love you.”

#dabi is just the worst huh #sorry about the angst i honestly don’t know how that happened #dark content #dark fic #mha smut #tw dubcon #bnha imagines #bnha smut #dabi imagine #dabi smut #dabi x reader #mha x reader #tw slapping #tw noncon #tw unhealthy relationship #tw gunplay #tw death mention

[deluluass]

hi

could yoy do please some yandere kuroo and kageyama headcanons? 💕

nsfw is welcomed 😊

My first headcanons 🤞🏽

Yandere! Kuroo Tetsuro

Content warnings: markers of a toxic/emotionally abusive relationship; dumbification; daddy kink; sex toy(s); mild public play/exhibitionism

😇SFW😇

This boy has a fascination for messy people.

And by "messy", I mean that Kuroo has a soft spot for those who put up some sort of front. A performative mask to hide their crumbling psyche.

Oh.

Those are his favorites. (Especially when they're not even aware that they’re hiding something.)

Maybe it's because they're so easy to manipulate? (Or perhaps it's a mild case of schadenfreude?)

It's the instigator in him.

He knows which buttons to push and at what time to exactly do it.

Kuroo lives for being that guy who causes a full blown fight by simply dropping a backhanded comment or two.

For being the final straw that eventually breaks the proverbial camel's back.

And then slipping back into the shadows to watch the Drama unfold.

So it's not unlikely for him to form an obsession for someone who's so emotionally vulnerable.

Someone who has the weight of the world on their shoulders; who has everything locked up inside to the point of bursting.

Because then it won't take much to have them falling apart and unraveling before him.

But he's also a caretaker, you know.

He's opportunistic and covertly callous and mischievous, yes.

But you've seen how much he tends to those close to him.

So when you do fall apart, you will do it in his arms.

He will take care of you.

He'll say everything you've always wanted to hear.

You're beautiful and wanted and loved and you don't have to be brave anymore.

Kuroo's here and he understands you.

From the barest changes in your inflection to your most subtle facial expression.

Other people won't catch it.

To Kuroo, though? Tell-tale signs that you're hiding your feelings again.

He understands you in a way that no else had; that no else cared to try.

And eventually that’ll be the very thing that you’ll hold onto.

Never mind that his every word has become an indisputable fact (when it shouldn’t be).

Never mind that the line between Kuroo just being a mindful boyfriend AND Kuroo disregarding your boundaries has become too blurry that it’s impossible to tell which is which.

Never mind that your entire world has narrowed down to just him and you.

Because all your friends have, one by one, made their way for the exit.

They tell you that they're so tired.

They've warned you- begged you, actually- to end this insidiously suffocating relationship.

"I know he's only been nice to you and to us, but there's just...something wrong about that guy," they say.

But until they pinpoint, exactly, what that "something wrong" is; and until you see it for yourself, you're sticking by his side.

Damn whatever people say.

So.

Kuroo's not the yandere who'd chain you up in his basement or something.

Not that he's above it, but because he doesn't really need to.

Not when he has you bound right where it really matters.

😈NSFW😈

Kuroo has perfected being a dom down to a Science.

He knows exactly when to be mean and hurtful and sweet and kind and giving to you.

Kuroo's very generous, methinks! But only if he believes you deserved it.

So you better prove that you earned it!!

He'll having you cumming and gushing into his hand if you pleaded just enough!!

Looked into his eyes all pouty and teary and pliant to all his wishes.

Very into treating you and talking to you like you're not capable of comprehending words.

Oh, darling. I know I'm hurting you. I know I am. But you like it, don't you? That's right. Fuck yeah, you do, you fucking slut.

That's because you're just a dumb little baby, aren't you? You'd be happy as long as daddy makes you cum?

And you'd nod and say yes so obediently as he pounds your little hole even though you can't hear him over the sound of your own moans.

ALSO!!!

HE IS A TEASE!!!!

A FUCKINGN!!!!!!!!! TEASE!!!!

Every seggsy time is edging time!!

Has a thing for slapping your ass until your cheeks are bruised and tender under his palms.

And for sticking a vibrator inside you while you're out in public.

Just to teach you a lesson whenever he feels like you're not learning enough.

"Do you want me to come back until you're ready?" the waiter droned, obviously suppressing the urge to roll his eyes when all you did was grip the napkin in front of you.

You couldn't even look at poor kid; couldn't even make out a sound. You're too busy stifling the tingling within your walls, prompting you to cross your legs beneath the table and squeeze your thighs together.

And Kuroo's just...scanning the menu. Sitting idly before you. He's resting his chin against his open palm, long fingers brushing under his nose, while you're practically grinding down the chair.

You feel yourself leak into the crotch of your underwear, sticky liquid squelching against the crack of your ass as the toy continued to vibrate, burning you up and melting your insides, the buzzing a white noise only you could hear.

His indifference was unflappable. Kuroo even managed to call out, "Excuse me. Sorry about that earlier. We're ready now," so smoothly despite your desperate attempts to catch his attention. Then, he recited a bunch of dishes that you didn’t have the appetite for. Like you’re not outright writhing and earning a few disconcerted looks from the table next to you.

All you wanted was for him to put an end to this. You've learned your lesson. You're not gonna disappoint him again.

Instead, you watched in agonizing fear as he reached for his pocket. And immediately, without a warning, you felt the toy shake violently inside you.

"Ah!" you cried, sharply folding your arms and legs, making the plates and utensils clink against each other as your wrists chafed against your hard nipples.

Your boyfriend halted, leaned closer, and looked at you in a convincing display of concern.

"Are you alright, babe?" he muttered, caressing your knee, his nails pressing down just a tad. Not too hard. Just enough for you to hiss in a heady mixture of pleasure and pain.

You managed a small, quivering "uh-huh" as you begged him with your eyes. Conveying as much message as you could.

"Daddy, I'll be good for you. I swear. I won't lie anymore. I won't make you angry. I won't do anything that you wouldn't be happy about. Everything I do from this moment on will be just for you, daddy. I promise, daddy-"

But Kuroo only huffed out, a small, faint grin tracing his lips as he turned back to the waiter and said, "One cream pie, please."

Yandere! Kageyama Tobio

Content warning(s): rape/noncon

😇SFW😇

Fourth wall break, if you will: thank you, anon, for putting these characters together because I Believe that they’re each other’s foils in terms of yandere-isms. And this is gonna be an interesting contrast to see (at least, I hope it would be).

So Kuroo’s all subdued mind games, right? Like, you have to do a whole routine of mental gymnastics if you want to dig deep and analyze how he had your head spinning. 

But Kageyama? 

Kageyama says fuck that.

Kageyama, genius though he is, is about as subtle as a metal bat to the head when it comes to his darling.

He has no qualms about tying you to his bed once the opportunity presents itself to him.

But it didn’t start out like that.

At first, perhaps Kageyama was just an aloof classmate whose entire life revolved around volleyball.

The one who couldn’t even take a time out of his day to hang out with the rest of the class on a weekend.

Though Kageyama has a knack for attracting hostility from other people, there comes a time (rare it may be) that it is offset by people who are sympathetic to his idiosyncrasies.

His darling falls under the latter.

That's what draws Kageyama to you.

Hearing stuff like "D'you know what they used to call him before? King!" and "King because he's an arrogant dickhead who thinks he's better than everyone" are not new to him.

But hearing these are: "Stop that. It's rude to talk behind a person's back."

"Kageyama's passionate about volleyball. More than anyone we've ever met. Ok so it's alienating for us! Whatever! But isn't it admirable that he's doing his best at a thing that he loves?"

Kageyama did not get it.

You're not his teammate.

You're not his..anything.

You had no cause to try and be nice to him and defend him and..understand him, really.

So the rest was history.

The beginning might have been awkward.

Every time he tried to talk to you, Kageyama, for some reason, always blurted out the wrong things.

But you didn't mind. You just liked being his friend.

And Kageyama liked having you by his side.

Kageyama liked it, especially, when you're in the sidelines and cheering him on. (This caused quite a ruckus in Karasuno.)

It should have been weird. Kageyama had not known anything else besides volleyball.

Your presence should’ve been that of a stranger encroaching on someone else’s property.

Somehow, though, you fitted in so perfectly.

Like you’re made to be there.

So he tells you: “You’re free, aren’t you? You should be watching me play by now” and “You should be waiting for me after class” and “Stop making excuses. You’re not tired. You can still drop by practice” 

You’ve tried to reason with him. (Even contemplated about ending your friendship.)

But it’s not like you’re ever gonna shake him off.

Besides, you know that he wouldn’t accept anything less than perfect.

😈NSFW😈

His darling was his first sexual experience. 

And like any beginner, Kageyama was pretty...uh..bad at it ngl.

Add that to the fact that he’s on the bigger side and your first with him wasn’t consensual.

At that time, all Kageyama knew was that he really, really wanted to touch you and kiss you and fuck you senseless until you acknowledge that there’s no running from him. 

Trust, though, that Kageyama will not settle for being bad or, heaven forbid, mediocre at it.

Nope.

Not. a. chance.

Doesn’t matter that you’ve spent the entire day fucking.

Kageyama will not rest- not let you rest, until he drags out a moan from you; until you’ve ruined the sheets with how much he’s made you cum; until he has you begging for more. 

Will experiment a lot.

Will test out how fast and hard he has to fuck you to get what kind of reaction he wants from you.

Very attentive even to your quietest gasp.

If you so much as show a sign that you’re finding whatever it is he’s doing to your body pleasurable- curl your toe or arch your back- Kageyama will amp it up to the point where you’re screaming.

He’ll have this haughty, shit-eating grin while doing it too.

“Yes, you can,” Kageyama growled. “Spread those legs and show me how you do it.”

You shook your head, your body protesting at the slight movement. You’re already on the verge of blacking out. And you don’t have to check the ticking wall clock to know that, by now, Kageyama, too, should be knocked out and dozing off beside you.

But he only grabbed your wrists, making you howl in pain as soon as he touched the cuts and bruises across the skin. Remnants of the nylon rope that bound them together not too long ago.

“Touch yourself,” he repeated.

Kageyama’s voice is a rasping noise to your ears, his hot breath causing goosebumps all over you as he pressed his lips against the shell.

“No-no more, Kag-Kageyama,” you forced yourself to say, though your throat was dry and aching from all your screeching. 

He clicked his tongue. 

You flinched.

And you didn’t think it possible for Kageyama to be more frightening than he already is. Until you’d done as he’d told and, like a wolf patiently waiting to pounce, Kageyama zeroed in on how you moved your hands, his own reaching for his cock.

He didn’t take his eyes off of you, groaning as you trembled and mewled under your featherlight touch. Kageyama stroked himself, grinding into his fist until pre-cum dripped from the head.

“That how you like it, huh,” he croaked.

Before you could even reach an orgasm, Kageyama had already pushed you on your back, mimicking the way you pleasured yourself. Only this time it was rougher, more unforgiving, and indifferent to your cries of “Stop! Stop it, I can’t- Enough, Kageyama!”

#tw non con haikyuu #yandere headcanons #dark content haikyuu #yandere kuroo #yandere kageyama #yandere haikyuu #tw noncon #y/n's gender is not specified

[seijorhi]

Cry-Baby

A commissioned continuation of this soulmate AU by the lovely @pokemonfreak666 - thanks for your patience, bby!!

Bakugou Katsuki x Female Reader, Kirishima Eijiro x Female Reader

TW non-con, nsfw, double penetration, rough fucking, minor mentions of blood, kidnapping

The water’s not hot enough. 

It should be; it should burn. The knob’s twisted all the way up, steam rising in billowing clouds, fogging up the bathroom mirror, but it’s not hot enough. You can still feel them on you. Everything else – the blood, saliva, their cum, you’d watched it swirl down the drain, sitting on the shower floor, arms curled tightly around yourself as if that was the only thing keeping you from falling apart and shattering entirely.

But the water’s scalding, and you can still feel your soulmates’ hands crawling over you…  their mouths… their cocks tearing you apart from the inside out. Why won’t it wash away? You’ve scrubbed and scrubbed, your skin’s red and raw but the filthy feeling won’t go.

And they’re just outside. Sitting in your bedroom, or maybe wandering around your living room, sprawled across your couch flipping through channels on the TV. Maybe they’re out there looking at the pictures that line your walls, you and your family, your friends. Fuck, maybe they’re in your kitchen, rifling through your fridge for a late night snack after fucking their soulmate six ways from Sunday.

You can’t go back out there. You don’t want to see them.

Is it awful to hope for some kind of horrifying villain attack or massive accident to force them to go and leave you in peace?

… Would they? 

You can’t imagine Pro Heroes not running off to do their duty, but before a few hours ago, you couldn’t imagine them holding somebody down and raping them either, and clearly they had no qualms about doing that, so maybe your Heroes aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. 

Then again, what difference would leaving make? They know where you live, probably where you work. There’s no anonymity anymore, it’s not like you can just slip away and hide from them. 

You’ve been in the bathroom too long already, you know that – you can almost feel their anxious energy seeping through the crack in the door. Too much longer and they’ll surely come bursting in. 

Patience clearly wasn’t their strong point, and it’s nothing short of a miracle they let you come in and shower alone. Kirishima at least had been more than eager to come join you, grinning widely and tugging you by the arm towards the bathroom– it’d been Bakugou, watching you pale and flinch through red, unreadable eyes who’d reined him back in. 

Maybe he saw how scared you were, how fragile the thread that was holding you together was. Maybe he thought that gifting you these precious minutes alone after what they did would in any way come close to starting to mend the damage they’d just wrought. 

Maybe he just hadn’t cared enough beyond getting his dick wet. 

You’d grown up thinking your soulmates would make you happy, love you in a way that nobody else ever could. The possibility of ever deliberately hurting them seemed like such a foreign and uncomfortable concept to you. But obviously they didn’t care enough about your feelings or your lack of consent to stop them from forcing themselves onto you, maybe you were nothing but an object to them. Something to take and fuck, because naturally you were made for them.

What did it matter if you didn’t want it? 

Your eyes drift down to the timers on your wrists, run down to zero. A quaking sob rips from your throat and you bite down harshly on your bottom lip to stifle it. 

“Why am I even here? In less than an hour you’re gonna meet them, and what am I supposed to do then, hmm?” your friend had asked with a laugh. “Be the world’s most awkward fourth wheel?”

You’d laughed with her, knocking your shoulders against hers with a fond little smile, “Well if they’re gonna be in my life for the long haul, don't you think it’s important that they meet the person who matters to me the most right off the bat?”

You’re terrified of going back out there and facing them, but what other option do you have? The only window in the bathroom is too high and too small to squeeze through, and even if you could, getting an apartment on the seventh floor had seemed like a great idea at the time, but it doesn’t exactly lend itself to an easy getaway. 

The flimsy lock on the bathroom door is all that’s keeping them out – with their strength it’s hardly much of a barrier at all, but it’s all you have.

Here in your bathroom, under the scalding water, you’re safe. They can’t hurt you.

You’d like to think that now they’ve gotten what they wanted, now that they know that you can’t run and their reputations can’t be tarnished, they’ll go. And there’s a little voice inside your head that tells you it’s a stupid, foolish hope. You know that the moment you set foot outside that door, things’ll never be the same again.

A few years back, you read an article on some tabloid website about an up and coming Hero who’d disappeared out of the blue after joining Hawks’ agency as an intern. Supposedly, they were soulmates, and once the Pro realised it, he’d swooped her up and taken her to some secret safe house to hide her away from the rest of the world, supposedly ‘for her own protection’. It was all rumours, of course. No way for them to actually prove the theory – and no one actually cared about some missing, low level Hero at the end of the day. It was news for a week and then everybody moved on.

Are they gonna do the same thing to you?

Spirit you away to some hideout where they can keep you all to themselves – so they can fuck you whenever they want without having to worry about you running off? You’ll never see your family again, or your friends… they’ll be your entire world, and just like that intern, everybody else will forget you ever existed.

Or maybe they’ll be satisfied enough just forcing themselves into your life, letting you go back to your job, your boring, mundane nine to five, never knowing when they’re going to pop up and take what they want. They’ll come over and play house, acting as if this is a normal relationship, waiting for you to come around and accept them. 

Love them. 

The thoughts makes bile rise in your throat. Your entire body aches from inside out. There’s bitemarks and bruises littering your skin, marks that won’t fade for days… you can’t let them do this to you again.

As if they can hear your panicked thoughts, a knock sounds on the bathroom door, and your heart clenches.

“Hey, babe?” Kirishima calls out, “You okay? You’ve kinda been in there a while…” 

That same voice, chanting breathlessly above you, “I love you, I love you– f-fuck– I love you!”

Panic, cloying and sharp tears at you. You try to answer, tell him to leave you alone, that you need more time, but the words catch in your throat and all that comes out is a pitiful squeak and he knocks again, louder, more insistent and it’s too much.

They're gonna break down the door and hurt you again. Hot tears well up and spill down your cheeks with an audible sob, and you clutch at yourself tighter, willing them away–

“Babe? Talk to us, sweetheart, you’re making us worried.”

The door handle jiggles insistently, and you bury your face between your knees breathing rapidly, they’re gonna break it down, they’re gonna break it down, they’re gonna–

“Move, Kiri,” Bakugou snaps.

You don’t register the snap of the lock breaking or the frantic footsteps that approach, the harsh sound of your heaving gasps drowning out all else. Then suddenly there’s strong, muscular arms pulling you out from the water with a muffled curse.

It’s Kirishima who’s holding you, you realise as a flash of blond darts back behind you to turn the shower off. And it’s suffocating, the way he clutches at you, big hands running along your back, pulling you closer, holding you tighter, words of comfort you can’t hear over the pounding of your own heart spilling from his lips. 

And then Bakugou’s face is filling your vision, the scowl on his face growing more pronounced as he studies you – shaking, teary, eyes wide and swimming with fear– 

Something inside of you just gives and you don’t fight it when the darkness swallows you whole.

—

When you come to, you’re lying on something soft – a bed, you realise, but not your own. There’s an arm slung over your waist; corded with muscles, tan, covered in fine, golden hair and faint white scars; Bakugou’s.

Which means that the warm breath gently tickling at your neck must belong to him as well. 

You’re not naked at least; a quick glance down at your body revealing they’d dressed you in one of your old tees and a pair of panties. You’re not sure whether that observation is supposed to calm or unnerve you; you’d rather be clothed than not, but the thought of your soulmates rifling through your things, dressing you while you were unconscious… is not a pleasant one. 

“You’re awake.” It’s an observation, not a question.  His voice is gruff, an edge of sleepiness clinging to the words, but it lacks the heat you’ve come to expect from the explosive Hero. He sounds comfortable almost – at least that’s the sense you get as his face presses up against the nape of your neck, his arm drawing you closer with a low groan.

Still, you haven’t uttered a sound. 

It feels surreal, lying there in your captor’s arms – and he is your captor, soulmate or no, there’s no denying that fact anymore. There’s a part of you that realises that you should be panicking, kicking scratching and clawing because you don’t know where you are, but it’s certainly not your apartment and you definitely don’t want him touching you after what he’s already put you through. 

But rather than the sheer, unrelenting panic that had gripped you before, it’s just… nothing. Dormant, lying simmering just below the surface, and you’re almost scared to draw breath, to shatter the sweet, tender facade between the two of you.

There’s no point in asking where you are, no point in demanding he let you go. They’ve shown you that what you want doesn’t matter here, so instead you ask the obvious question.

“Where’s Kirishima?”

Bakugou grunts, burrowing himself closer. It’s not cold in the room, but his bare skin burns like a furnace, just on the wrong side of comfortable. “Makin’ breakfast.”

Breakfast. 

You swallow tightly, but Bakugou isn’t done. 

“Scared the shit out of us, fainting like that,” he scoffs. “Should’a fuckin’ known you’d need us to come take care of you.”

His fingers, resting over your stomach, dip lower, sliding roughly beneath the hem of your panties as he grinds his hips along your ass. He’s hard already, you can feel every inch of it, long and thick pressing insistently up against you. 

Shame and indignation flare up like a match struck, but before you can even open your mouth to snap a retort, Bakugou yanks his hand out of your underwear to stuff his fingers inside your mouth.

Your first instinct is to bite down, but the blond at your back just growls, “Suck,” and you’re not stupid enough to think that hurting him (or trying to at least) is going to stop what’s about to happen.

Or maybe you’re just scared to test exactly how far you can push them before they really hurt you. 

Obediently, your tongue swirls around his thick digits, hollowing out your cheeks and earning a grunt of appreciation from your soulmate. 

“Always thought that my soulmate was gonna be someone strong,” he mutters, his hips still rocking up against yours. “Somebody who could keep up with Kiri ‘n me, hold their own in a fight. Never thought you’d be some weak as shit, quirkless little cry-baby.”

It stings more than it has any right to. 

Slowly, his fingers slide from your lips, a long, thin glistening strand of saliva connecting the two. It’s hard to fight the whine that escapes you as they return to your pussy, angrily shoving aside your panties before thinking better of it and ripping them off of you completely. The warm puff of breath that ghosts across your skin sends shivers down your spine, and though you can’t see his face when he speaks next you can tell that he’s grinning.

“But fuck, sweetheart, you’re goddamn perfect – everythin’ we didn’t know we needed.”

He kisses you as his index and middle fingers plunge eagerly into your cunt, not the rough, biting kisses he’d gifted you with the night before, no. These are almost tender, sweet – or at least as sweet as a monster like Bakugou is capable of – entirely at odds with way his calloused fingers curl inside of you, fucking you, stretching you out while he cruelly thumbs at your clit.

Katsuki wants you strung out and whining for him. For Kirishima.

He wants you helpless.

“We’re gonna keep you nice ‘n safe, baby. Won’t have to worry about a goddamn fucking thing ‘cept keepin’ your soulmates happy.”

It sounds more like the passing of a sentence than a reassurance, but you can’t tell him that you don’t want this. He knows – he has to by now. He just doesn't care.

You don’t hear it when Kiri comes back, not when Bakugou’s sucking at your neck, your pussy throbbing with need as his fingers drive relentlessly into you, hitting your g-spot with every flick of his wrist.

You might not have noticed the redhead lingering in the doorway, his cock tenting in his pants, eyes dark and glazed over as he watches the show unfolding before him, but Bakugou certainly does.

“Oi, shitty hair. You just gonna stand there and watch or are you actually gonna fucking do something?” His voice is rough and a little breathless, closer to a growl than speech – it makes your gut clench, a shiver run down along your spine.

When your eyes finally do meet Kirishima’s, your heart squeezes, your stomach flipping. Kirishima’s staring at you like a wolf readying itself to pounce, like he wants to devour every inch of you and savour the taste.

He grins widely, pink tongue darting out to lick his lips.

Bakugou’s the one with the bad reputation – as explosive as his quirk, brash at the best of times and overly aggressive even with his friends – you have every reason to be terrified of him, even before he broke into your home to take you. 

Kirishima might be kinder, gentler with his touches (at least, he tries to be), but you’re a fool if you think you’re any safer with the redhead. 

“Thought you said you were gonna wait,” he says, advancing towards the two of you as he kicks out of his shorts, but the grin on his face doesn’t waver for a second. He’s not nearly as put out as he pretends. “I could hear the pretty little thing moaning all the way in the kitchen.”

Shame would be enough to flood your cheeks with heat, but it’s the sight of Kiri’s cock, flushed an angry red, veiny and thick, hanging heavy between his muscular thighs that does the job. The spit in your mouth dries, your heart thumping unevenly even as pleasure pools in your gut courtesy of Bakugou’s attention. You let out a sharp shriek as he quickens his pace, one hand reaching to grab at his wrist, the other clutching desperately for purchase at the bedsheets, but it’s not enough. 

Heat burns at your core, and unwittingly, you find your hips bucking up against him, fervently searching for more.

At your back, the blond chuckles, you feel the deep vibrations echoing through your chest, “Yeah, well you were taking too long.” 

There might be more that he says, but at that moment he slides a third finger into your dripping cunt, calloused fingertips slamming against your tight, gummy walls and you’re robbed of the ability to think. 

Your first orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, the building pleasure snapping like an elastic band stretched too far. A strangled moan slips out of your lips, and you don’t even notice the teeth sinking into your shoulder, Bakugou once more staking his claim as you cum for him. You quiver and quake in his grip, your cunt tightening around his digits and sucking them in further with a lewd squelching sound that you might be more embarrassed about if you could focus on anything but the pleasurable aftershocks of your peak.

All the while, Kirishima drinks you in, salivating at the sight of your drooling, fucked out expression, the syrupy slick that’s all but dripping out around Bakugou’s thick fingers, still stuffed deep inside of your pussy.

And maybe if he were a better man, he might allow you a moment to breathe and hurtle back down to earth, but patience has never been a virtue of his. He lunges forward faster than a man of his size has any right to, jumping onto the bed and all but tearing you out of Bakugou’s hold. You’re still reeling, panting and sore and dizzy with pleasure as Kirishima’s lips crash against yours, stealing what little breath you have left in a burning kiss.

Your attention’s caught on the way his tongue’s sliding against yours, trying to coax you into kissing back, the sharp, minty taste of him – you miss the way he grasps at his flushed, leaking cock, dragging it along your puffy slit. You miss the sound of Bakugou shedding his own pants.

You’re still weakly trying to push at his chest when Kiri slides his cock into your warm, welcoming cunt, his low, guttural moan lost to your lips. And despite Bakugou’s attempts at preparing you, it still burns, the sheer girth of his fat cock filling you up and stretching you uncomfortably. Tears sting at your eyes, a whimper catching in your throat as he hums in pleasure, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer, impaling you further onto his length.

Yet you’re not given a moment to accommodate the massive cock inside of you – not as you feel another blunt, flushed cockhead pressing up against your already stuffed pussy. Realisation hits a moment too late, your face blanching, your heart skipping a beat as panic – sheer panic – chokes at you.

You try to push back from Kiri’s embrace, only to feel Bakugou once again pressing up against your back, trapping you between them. You squirm in vain, trying to kick and push, fighting even as the blond’s cock, not as girthy as Kirishima’s but still far too big for you to take with Kiri still inside of you, starts to force its way into your plush, velvety walls.

“F-fuck, she’s tight,” he grunts as you arch up against Kiri, your tits, still covered by your thin, cotton tee, squishing up against his bare chest in an attempt to writhe away from the overwhelming feeling of fullness, the burning, stinging, throbbing pain between your legs.

But your soulmates are far from considerate, not even as you start to wail, your nails raking down the redhead’s broad shoulders. 

“Your pussy’s a fuckin’ dream,” he continues, swearing with a hiss as he finally bottoms out.

It’s too much, you feel like you’re being split in two. Every twitch and throb of their dicks, every vein, every inch of them is pressed too tightly against you, your walls struggling to take them both. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, oh god it hurts so fucking bad, but neither one of them care as you start to sob–

No, Kiri just kisses away your tears, taking your face in his large hands and cooing sweetly when you beg them through gasping, heaving sobs to stop.

“You’re doing so good for us, baby. Look how well you’re taking our cocks – it’s like you were made for us,” he laughs at his own stupid joke, and all you can focus on is the pain as he starts to draw his hips back, your oversensitive walls screaming in protest. “We’re gonna make you feel so fucking amazing, just wait.”

And it’s not his wide, beaming grin that shatters you, or even the hunger blazing in those crimson depths. It’s not Bakugou panting at your back, his hands coming up to shove your top up so he can palm greedily at your tits, or even the lewd almost feral sounds the explosion Hero’s making as he and Kirishima settle into a maddening rhythm, not allowing you a moment to catch your breath and steady yourself as they fuck you.

No, it’s the sheer, feverish love you can see written across his face clear as day, the softness with which he holds you, even as he chases his own pleasure.

This is their version of love, and you – quirkless, weak as shit and entirely at their mercy – have no hope in hell of escaping it. 

#yandere bnha #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere kirishima eijiro #yandere bakugou katuski x reader #yandere kirishima eijiro x reader #yandere bakugou x reader #yandere kirishima x reader #tw non con #tw kidnapping #tw blood #it's like one mention but still #me posting this when my dash is dead instead of at 2am #more likely than you think

[honeypiehotchner]

Hey, Reid! I actually have an idea for a headcannon or one-shot. So, I love how realistic your writing is because you tackle a lot of topics (PTSD, sexual assault, etc.) Can you do one on how Hotch were to react if he gets into an argument with y/n and sees her flinch when he tries to raise his hand to rub his face because she thought she was gonna get hit? Like, I think he would be so concerned for her and tries to reassure her that he won't hurt her like her ex did. I saw this based on a tik tok on how each bau member would react if they see y/n flinch during an argument. If this is a too touchy subject to do, I will understand, and if you wanna do it with a gender neutral partner instead, that works too ^^

Thank you so much for this request bby!! I loved writing this dose of fluff xx.

Also I think this is pretty gender neutral, but he does call reader “Honey”!

Small disclaimer that everyone’s PTSD looks different and this is not the sole decider of how PTSD has to affect you to be “valid.” This is just a depiction and I did draw from my own personal symptoms (especially the “being okay right after a freak out” because lord knows I suppress shit and let it get me days later)

HOTCH MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

Down to Earth

You’ve been with Aaron for what feels like forever, but really has only been a little over a year. In this year, you’ve felt more at peace with him than you’ve felt in any other relationship.

But like every relationship, nothing is always perfect.

The two of you haven’t had a single argument -- until now.

You’re a fairly understanding person. When he has to leave suddenly for a case, you don’t mind. When he gets caught up in work and suddenly it’s almost nine at night and he’s still at the BAU, you just laugh. When he wants to go everywhere possible with you because he’s having a hard day with his anxiety (even if he won’t admit it), you let him follow you around like your personal bodyguard.

You knew what you signed up for when you took things further than a few dinner dates. You understand.

Which is why tonight’s argument is so stupid.

“I just need a straight answer. That’s all.”

“I don’t know what else you want me to say,” you shrug. “I literally don’t care, Aaron.”

“I don’t want to make all the decisions,” he replies. “I want you to have some say.”

“But I don’t mind it if you make the decisions.”

“It feels one-sided, and I don’t want that.”

“It’s fine, I swear.”

“I can see on your face that it’s not.”

“Don’t profile me, we talked about this.”

“I’m not profiling you, I’m just trying to get you to tell me the truth for once.”

“Well, I--”

Your sentence stops abruptly when you gasp, flinching, raising both of your arms in an X in front of your face.

And just like that, the argument is dropped.

All Aaron had done was raise his hand to run his fingers through his hair. But in the midst of an argument -- and on one of your worse days with your PTSD -- you legitimately thought he was pulling his hand back to hit you.

“Y/N…” He slowly lowers his hand, gaze softening when he hears you sniffling. “Honey…”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, your arms still raised. You know he would never, ever hurt you, but you can’t move them. You’re trying, but it’s like all your muscles have tensed, refusing to let you move. “I won’t do it again, I’m sorry,” you say, rushing your words now. “Just please, don’t…”

It’s not until Aaron hears these words leave your lips that he realizes you’re not here right now -- at least not in your mind.

He doesn’t know anything about your past relationship. He put a few pieces together and knew it wasn’t necessarily a happy relationship, but he had no idea it was that bad.

“Y/N, it’s Aaron,” he pauses, mind reeling, trying to figure out how to get you back. “Can you hear me?”

“I won’t-- I’m sorry, please--”

“Y/N, you’re at my apartment with me. Can you open your eyes?”

You hear his voice this time and you open your eyes, a gasp falling from your lips as you yank your arms down to your sides. “I’m so sorry--”

“What are you apologizing for?” He asks softly. “You have no reason to apologize, Y/N.”

“Okay…” You say, flexing your fingers to ease some tension. “Well, still, about--”

“No, no we don’t need to talk about that anymore,” he shakes his head. “It’s not a big deal and I think this is more important.” He pauses. “But if you don’t want to talk about it, I...I completely understand. No pressure.”

You exhale, balling your hands into fists. “We can talk.”

“Okay. Wanna sit down?” He gestures to the couch.

You nod.

“Can I sit next to you?” He asks, and you’re grateful for his ever kind heart.

“Of course,” you smile. “Please.” And when he still sits a little too far away, you tug him closer. “You’re not going to break me.”

“I know that,” he says, smiling when you take his hand. “Are you okay?”

You have no idea how, but you are. “I am. I’m sorry I freaked out.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” he says again, sandwiching your hand between both of his. “You can’t control your reactions.”

He’s right, even though you have suppressed them for a very long time. “I try to. I don’t want to scare you.”

“I don’t want to ever scare you,” he says, squeezing your hand. “I’m sorry that I did.”

“It wasn’t you.” He gives you a look with a hint of disbelief. “Okay, it was the sudden movement, I think. With your hand.”

“Okay,” he nods. He had already pieced that together, but now isn’t the time for him to talk about how he silently profiles you. “I’ll be more conscious of that.”

“Honestly,” you chuckle, “I’m not sure how you haven’t pieced it all together before now.” You pause, looking up from his hands. “Have you? Be honest.”

“Some things,” he admits. “Little things. Your problem with eye contact and agreement to everything -- and I should not have approached the topic that way. We’re both tired and that wasn’t the correct way to talk about it.”

“It’s…” He raises his eyebrows and you stop before you can say okay. “Right. I see now.”

“I gathered that the relationship, whatever it was, wasn’t healthy, but I never wanted to bring it up until you were ready. And I know it goes without saying, but I want to say it anyway. I will never lay a hand on you. I promise.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, lifting your free hand to stroke his cheek. “You have been so kind to me and I never know what to do with myself.” You shake your head slowly, smiling. “It’s like every time I start floating away, you’re right here, pulling me back down to earth.”

He lets go of your hand to wrap his fingers around your wrist, keeping your hand on his cheek so that when he turns his head, he kisses your open palm. “I’ll always be here to pull you back down.”

You let some silence pass before you say what you’ve been hiding all this time.

“He used to hit me,” you whisper. “It’s why it had been five years since I went on a date. Honestly, if Dave didn’t speak so highly of you, I don’t know that I would’ve even said yes that night. But I’m glad I did.”

“I’m glad you did, too.”

You smile softly. “Everything about you is so different from what he was. You’re such a gentle giant, you know that?”

He chuckles at the new description. “I guess I do now.”

“I just want you to know your gentleness never goes unnoticed or unappreciated. I love it. It makes me feel safe and loved and cared for. And I’m not used to it at all yet, but...I hope I’ll get there.” You pause. “I was having a rough day today with flashbacks and things. Today was our anniversary, but none of them were ever good, so I’ve been on edge.”

“Honey…”

“Even though I know nothing will happen because he’s gone and nothing bad has happened on this day for six years, it still… I still can’t shake it.”

“Well, let’s do everything we can to make the rest of this day the best day,” he says. “Let’s order your favorite for dinner. You pick the movie, and we can sit on the couch until we want to go to bed.”

“And then?”

“And then…?” He waits for your answer.

“And then...you make sweet love to me all night and go into work late tomorrow?” You add a shy grin, hoping to convince him.

But he needs no convincing. “Gladly,” he says, leaning forward to kiss you sweetly, softly, pulling you back to earth, weighed down with all his love.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner one shot #tw ptsd #ptsd tw #tw mentions of past abuse

[raekahwritings]

BNHA Gods AU - Thanatos - Shindou Yo

GODS AU! - What kind of shitty god are you?

Pairing: Shindou You x Reader

Rating: Explicit, NSFW, Minors, DO NOT ENTER.

Warning: NSFW, Mentions of non-consent, slight blood/gore/murder,slight yandere.

Word Count: 2016

Authors Note: This was written in one night, I really wanted to make it in time for this collaboration despite everything going on right now. I hope you all can forgive me since this wasn’t proof read but hopefully you all can enjoy the Gods!AU Shindou!

GODS!AU Collaboration: Please check out the collab here from @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten​

The age of gods was long over. They no longer walked this earth. No one worshipped them; they became the words of fiction and stories.

Let the gods guide you.

Live your life well and the gods may reward you.

Do not turn away from the path of good, lest the gods punish you.

Where were the gods when you needed them? When your mother had dressed you up as a pretty doll, when you smiled and jumped in the excitement of a new dress, and when she had shown you to a portly older gentleman. He took you, none-too-gently, and placed a bag of coins into your mother’s palm. She had left brusquely, curtly, and took care not to look you in the eyes.

How long had it been since then? Your childhood had gone by in the mess of yelling, screams, and scullery work. When you were old enough? You now lay on the floor with your clothing strewn apart, dried tears on your face and a voice hoarse from screaming.

This was a life where no gods deigned to visit—this was a place of vileness, sordidness, and loathsome men. You were nothing more than a commodity to them—they had no qualms about leaving you on this dirty floor.

God, you had prayed so many times. Save me.

You’d been delivered to them, lent like broken toy until they called the brothel master to fetch you.

You had been defiled too many times to believe that any God would help you now.

Where were you? What had they consecrated this time? They had laughed and they had jeered while you had cringed at the blasphemy they spewed. They had taken their belts to mark you, left you bleeding, and then poured acridly old liquid, “—better hope this fucking holy water works.”

“They would laugh at this.” You blinked away the tears, blinked to see the dormant idolatry of Thanatos nearby. You scrabbled at the ground, trying to find a perch to lay your hands on so you could get up. You winced at seeing the dried blood and spilt fluids. If there was a moment for Thanatos to judge you, this would be now.  

But would he?

Gods had come and gone, with nary a care. You tried to stand, tried to ignore the mess they had made, and you glared at the idolatry. “You didn’t stop this.” You pointed to the empty room – “You’re supposed to be some merciless, hateful god of death.” You scoffed, knowing it was pathetic. Here you were, reaching a level of desperation to talk to some useless piece of stone and an empty room like it would answer you. But all the resentment, anger, and bitterness spewed out – here and now— you hissing, “You’re a fucking piece of shit god.”

And yet.

“If my life was enough of a price, would you come here and now? Or am I too dirty for someone like you? You want a precious little girl, an innocent naïve little sheep?” You furiously took the idol, glaring before slamming it as hard as you could to the floor. Take that, you fucker.

You watched the idol shatter into pieces, the useless stone rolling away. You should fear your own blasphemy and yet… satisfaction had you feeling smug.

“My, my, that doesn’t seem very nice.”

Holy fuck. You whipped around—the room was empty. When had someone come in? You nearly screamed at the mysterious voice, your arms reaching out to blindly shove at the culprit while you stumbled backwards.

A masculine hand caught your arm, tsking at you and he emerged from the shadows with a disappointed look. You nearly fell backwards but his iron clasp had you standing upright.

“Who are you?” Shock and fear colored your tone, the smugness was fleeting as you look to the door, a door that hadn’t budged since the scraggle of men had left earlier. How did he get in? You looked at him, swallowing nervously, your gaze flitting up and down to make out this stranger in the darkness.

“You called me and yet, you still ask me?” He stepped further into the firelight… You looked up at this dizzyingly tall man, you could make out the messy, dark locks framing his chiseled face. But more so, you found yourself staring into eyes the color of pure jade. He was far too handsome, his features bold and brooding, the stubble on his face giving him a heathenish look. He was broad and lean, the muscles of his arms and chest visible through his disheveled shirt.

Someone who made you stop breathing.

“No.” You breathed— “You’re lying.” You called no one, he was here to take you back to the brothel, you tried to wrench your hand pathetically away. He couldn’t fool you, no matter how handsome he was.

“Calm down.” He pulled you into his chest, you were the one falling forward as he stopped your mewling struggles. You heard those words countless times; it had always preceded the acrid smell of chloroform…

“I don’t want to go back.” You choked out, letting your wrists fall slack. “I don’t want this.”

His voice lilted up, questioning. “Go back where?” You could almost believe the sincerity in his voice, the confusion, the perplexity of the situation. But people loved playing with you, toying with you in these games— men liked playing with women as if it were a game of cat and mouse. You curled your fingers into your palms, once again trying to suppress any kindle of hope—because you inevitably always were sold back.

Meanwhile, Thanatos, the god you had summoned with your blood, piety, and holy water—looked heavenwards in frustration. “Girl, speak your name.” He commanded—you answered obediently.

How? You didn’t mean to answer him.

“I am Thanatos. Now speak plainly. I’ve heard your desperate cry for help, for vengeance.” He leaned back against the stone table, tugging you into his lap. “Now can we dispense with the formalities? I’d much rather you call me Shindou instead.” You found yourself caged in—your chest against his bare one as he gestured for you to look up. “You summoned  me. And while I normally ignore mortals…” He let his hand fall loosely to your back—you stiffened, squirming—as his calloused fingers brushed against the filth on your skin, the torn scraps of fabric that hid nothing from his gaze.

“I was personally interested in this offering of yours.” You stilled. There had been no one in the room with you to hear your vitriol words—but this was the temple of Thanatos. Could it be?  “Oh. You don’t believe me?” You looked doubtful. Well he couldn’t blame you. His lips curved, expecting this reaction. He waved a hand in the air, letting the firelights flicker to black and purple flames, letting it dance across the room hauntingly for you. You watched transfixed. “But parlor tricks? A dime a dozen.” He said dismissively. He tapped the table, a prompt for the shadows around you to contort menacingly and snaking up your legs.

You jumped more into his arms, away from the strangely prying and invasive shadows as it crawled disturbingly high up your body.

“Girl, they’re simply an extension of me.” You could hear the humor in his tone, see the shadows snake away as he chuckled at your close contact with him. “But I suppose I can be nice for a bit.” He let the darkness recede and the orange firelight to flicker back.

“Now that’s settled, may I discuss your price?” You… took a moment to blink, to really focus on him. Something about him, the closer you were, was making your senses hazy. He seemed to realize, crooning gently to you. “Oh baby, I know gods are supposed to be tempting to mortals and all that but where’s the little spitfire that threw a little tantrum at me? I quite enjoyed it.”

The haze dissipated a bit. You… had thrown down the idolatry, you had committed blasphemy in the actual face of a god. You wanted to die, the shame overwhelming you. Thanatos—no, Shindou simply laughed though—“Baby, don’t think of me as one of the pious assholes. I don’t need you to prostrate yourself to me and those hopeless,” he waved at the ostentatious ornaments adorning the room, “piece of shit, ugly crap of me. I’m a lot more handsome in person, don’t you think?” You couldn’t disagree.

This kind of man—God, you corrected yourself—exuded charisma, aura, sexuality that vibrated with your own being. Like you were made for him, your body melted against his light touch.

“Demon got your tongue? I can fix that.” Shindou cradled the side of your face, leaning in to press a kiss. You gasped, giving him an opportunity for his tongue invade your mouth—ravishing and giving you no air to breathe. He reached down to anchor your hips against his, drawing you more into his lap and letting his hardness press into your dampened, slickened ache between your thighs.

But you were dirty and filthy. You pushed him, and he let you, you knew his strength far outstripped yours. “I can’t.” You shook your head. “You must’ve seen what happened…” It wasn’t just one disgusting man, it was many who had left you sticky and ruined with their fluids on your unwilling body.

Even now.

“Seriously? Shindou sighed. He tutted at you like a child—which as a mortal, you must’ve been. “I came all this way out for your offering, for this delectable and luscious body and you dare to impugn me with your sense of shame?” He cocked his head. “Like I didn’t know? All those men…” He parted your legs, let the sticky fluid drip. “All those men, and they didn’t break your spirit. You come to me, fiery and burning with revenge, and I answered your call. What could be more attractive than this?” Albeit… Shindou did frown. “I don’t care for those worms to mark what’s mine. I guess they all have to die, wont they?”

Your eyes widened… your words caught. You wanted to protest—the mocking feeling of horror should’ve come at the thought of such senseless murder and death…. But you could only feel the sense of relish, of pure desire to see the blood of your captors. You bit your lips, futilely trying to hide your anticipation and eagerness.

“Ah, that’s my girl. I knew you and I would get along.” Shindou pulled down the rags of your dress,  watched your nubile body pull close to his and you shivered—his hardness grinded against you—a god like this wanted you. You could hardly believe it. You whimpered as he bit down your throat, bit at the junction of your shoulders while you bled. He licked the bloody trail down your ample breasts, swirling his hot tongue around the hardened peaks and making you arch in muted pleasure.

“Oh no, you can’t stay quiet.” He let the shadowy tendrils return, let it wrap around your throat and craning your neck backwards. His hands traced over your slickened breasts, pinching, pulling, vibrating as you screamed in pleasure and pain. “Sounds quite nice.” He mused, condescendingly. His hands eventually travelled to your taut thighs, teasing the inside of them, and drawing them further apart.  His fingers brushed against the dirty cum—he didn’t care for it but he supposed he’d just have to fuck you enough so you’d be dripping with his own cum—all the more reason to cleanse this lustful, vengeful darling of a human.

He had waited for someone like you. Other gods deigned to have their innocent little virgins on their sacrificial alter.

He wanted a tainted, corrupted human whose lust rivalled their desire for revenge—a human he could turn into his little fuck toy of a god, one who would stand by his side as he ruled over mayhem, murder, and death. Preferably, begging for his cock and drunk on cum – not a bad start, he mused. Not a bad start.

#shindou you #shindo yo #bnha x reader #bnha smut #gods!au #boku no hero academia #boku no hero #fanfiction #boku no hero fanfic #shindou yo x reader #shindo yo x reader #raekah #bnha fanfiction #fanfic

[devotion]

crazy about you → p.p

summary: after what feels like decades, peter has the guts to tells you he loves you.

requested: @cocoamoonmalfoy prompt in bold. <3

notes: listen, my arse somehow... procrastinated on revision and...... pls help. i love this tho but i need help.

word count: 843 ♡ | p.p masterlist

❀───❀───❀

you and peter are inseparable at heart. on the face of it, everyone knows that too─no matter if they're your neighbours, friends or family, they notice how much the two of you mean to each other.

but nothing - absolutely nothing would change the way he becomes flustered whenever he scores a chance to tell you how he really feels. he supposes that it's because being your best friend makes it worse, given that he doesn't want to ruin anything between you both.

and then he has ned - his other best friend who keeps poking him to make a move, knowing full well that peter has a soft spot for you. 

it was all clowning about at first when ned found out - the same time he and peter were talking about how he's moving in together with betty. peter still hadn't found the courage to tell you his feelings even in the first year of college where he started finally going out with you. except you knew full well that he really really liked you.

luckily enough however, with the start of the summer break being spent together now as a couple, peter hasn't been putting up with the pressure of avoiding his feelings for the past few months. rather, he truly notices them flooding back. and with that, he takes advantage of that opportunity to fully fall in love with you all over again.

it's one of those unusual nights that there's a dramatic swing in temperature compared to the day where it's unbelievably hot in new york. which means it's tremendously cold. and that only alludes to one thing: cuddling.

even though you and peter love to send each other super-unflattering snapchats, even without warning sometimes, you also love to cuddle. probably a lot.

usually, it's you who's spooning peter, in effect making him the smaller spoon. it's more than endearing seeing him snuggled up in your arms, snoring away when he falls asleep too quickly, and definitely more sweeter when you have your head tucked in his shoulder.

there'd be those times where you're both on the verge of falling asleep, moreso mumbling rather than talking. then, you'd have the need to peer at him, observe the freckles that are dotted around his nose, count them until you fall asleep. but that's when you'd catch him already staring at you too, naturally making the two of you break into a fit of giggles.

despite that, peter has gathered up the nerve to be the big spoon tonight, noticing the way you're shivering, still with his sweater, and teasing you about how he could warm you up with his "human heater" that he's blessed with.

it's like everything falls into place without intending to. he senses the nervousness that bubbles up in his system when he finds that it's the right time to confess his love for you. but he pushes the feeling aside, pressing a kiss to your neck that's oh-so-pleasant and gentle.

the words are at the tip of his tongue, relaxed and soft, "i love you, y/n."

the smile you previously wore because of the neck kiss drops slowly, body becoming stiff without meaning to. you feel peter's arms slowly unwinding because of it, but you breathe out just in time to lay hold of his wrists to let them stay where they are.

you're suddenly more awake than ever, becoming aware that you're actually giddy inside at his revelation. shocked but… for sure, delighted.

so when you shuffle to turn your body towards him, you're met with a tense and shy-looking peter as if he's said something that he shouldn't have. but the blush on his cheeks is highly unmistakable, making him all the more adorable than he already is.

"peter," you casually say, leg coming over his hip to bring you closer to him. you place your right hand on his cheek, which is red and very warm under your touch, becoming entranced by the second to give his nose a peck. so you do, making peter flush crimson even harder.

you whisper when you draw near to his lips, smile widening at the very sight of him, "i love you too," pronouncing every word with much heartfelt emotion like he seemingly did.

peter's heart skips a beat, but still continues to look at you bashfully. before you get to say anything else, he shakes his head, groaning, "i wanted to say i love you for the first time without blushing."

"but that failed, didn't it?"

he pouts, in which you finally meet your lips with his to stop yourself from laughing. although surprised, he complies, head tilting and hand reaching your back under your sweater. the heat he radiates has you feeling more warmer than the temperature in the whole apartment.

it lasts only a few seconds, given that you were meant to be sleeping a while ago, but it does as much as you hoped it would have -- leaving your heart in a sweet mess that he originally created years ago. 

perhaps... even sweeter.

❀───❀───❀

#peter parker fluff #peter parker imagines #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker tom holland #peter parker x y/n #peter parker #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #spider man imagine #spider man #spiderman #spiderman fluff #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland #peter parker imagine #peter parker preference #peter parker one shot #peter parker oneshot #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #spiderman x reader #marvel #mcu #tom holland imagines #peter parker x fem reader #peter parker and y/n

[haechanniesunflowers]

Ateez reaction to you being hurt

notes: I'm feeling angsty today

Seonghwa

He had a hard day, practicing for hours on end for Ateez's 10th year anniversary concert. He wanted to get home and pour his heart out in front of you and just spend time with you. But he came home and you weren't there much to his dismay, but he waited for you. It was raining heavily. He called you again and again but you weren't answering making him anxious and adding to his frustration. Three hours later, the rain still hadn't stopped and he was scared and furious. The bell rang and Seonghwa opened the door. You stood there, completely drenched in the rain. He stepped aside to let you in. You walked inside and got to the living room when he pulled you by your arm to make you face him.

"where the hell were you? And why weren't you answering your damn phone?" he tone was harsh.

"Seonghwa please, not now I-"

"no we need to talk about this now! answer me! Do you know how worried I was? And I was already frustrated to begin with!"

You lowered your head and let the tears spill but it seemed like the rain water was dripping down your face.

He shook you arm to pull you, making you lift your face and roughly pull out of his grasp. That's when he saw the tears.

"I had a bad day too! Okay? My awful coworkers took credit for my project that I worked so hard on! And on top of that I locked the car with the keys, my wallet and phone inside! And I had to walk home because I didn't have any money for a bus or a cab! There! Got your answer!"

Seonghwa's eyes softened at your words and he tried hugging you but you pulled back.

"no I'm not in the mood and I'm drenched"

You went to your room and locked yourself in the bathroom to cry in the shower.

Hongjoong

The track he was working on was almost ready and he wanted you to be the first person to hear it so he called you to invite you over to his studio.

"hey babe what are you doing?"

"nothing much Joong. What's up"

"can you come over in the evening? I want you to listen to my song"

There was a pause from your end.

"hello? Baby can you hear me?"

"ye-ah Joongie. I'm busy these days, I'm so sorry. I'll try to come after the next week."

"no that's okay, you don't need to put your work aside. I'm free today since I finished the song, I'll come over. How does that sound?"

"I'll tell you in a few hours, okay?"

Hongjoong felt something was off so he quickly got done with his files and saved the track and packed up. He drove straight to your apartment and knocked on the door. You didn't expect to see Hongjoong at the door so you hid behind the door after opening it. He eyed you suspiciously.

"are you okay?" he asked, pushing the door slightly to get inside.

"yeah why do you ask?" you spoke nonchalantly, standing in the akimbo pose.

"you're acting... unusual"

"nonsense"

He slid it aside and took you towards your bedroom. He found it unusual how you were walking slowly and stopped.

"you're hurt." he stated and his suspicion was confirmed when you didn't answer.

"I slipped and sprained my ankle. I didn't want you to worry so I didn't tell you and I didn't agree to meet you"

He picked you up and laid you on the couch, snuggling next to you.

"I'm here to take care of you" he whispered and turned the TV on.

Yunho

Yunho is always in a good mood when he gets to see you. He wants to make the best use of the time he gets to spend with you. So during his break, you guys went to his home town to meet his parents but you stayed in a hotel even though he insisted that you stayed at his house. But you were a woman of principles and didn't think it was appropriate to stay at your boyfriend's house before marriage. He came to pick you up in his car and took you to an amusement park. You guys took roller-coaster rides and other scary looking rides too. He asked if you wanted to eat something and proposed the idea of going to a restaurant but you you told him that hotdogs from the vendors in the park would be nice and that you wanted to stay there longer and get on more rides. After eating you two took that discovery ride. While getting off you felt a little dizzy and tripped on something and fell. Yunho quickly helped you up and asked if you were okay and you told him yes, even though your ankle hurt a lot. After the fun time, he drove you back to your hotel. As you got off, you winced in pain and knelt to the ground, clutching your ankle. He worriedly got out the car and came to your side.

"your ankle is swollen" he spoke, concerned.

"it's fine, I can manage"

"are you kidding me? Why didn't you tell me you're hurt?"

"because I didn't want to ruin tee date"

"you can't stay here y/n, you're coming out with me"

"I said it's okay Yunho, I'll take painkillers and an ice pack, I'll be fine"

"I'm sorry you got hurt"

"you don't need to be sorry babe" you said and kissed him.

Yeosang

Yeosang wanted to go skateboarding with you but you didn't know how to ride a skate so he took it upon himself to teach you even though you gave the idea of him skating and you cycling next to him but he said no. He took you to a nearby park and helped you learn for over a month. When he deemed you ready, he encouraged you to ride it on your own with him holding your hands or your waist. You took a deep breath.

"you can do this" he smiled.

"I hope so" you replied and steadied yourself.

"I can already see us skateboarding down the road. I can't wait"

"okay here goes nothing"

You gained momentum with your foot pushing the board forward and continued with a steady pace.

"I'm doing it! Yeosang I'm doing it!" you cheered but made the mistake of looking back towards him which made you lose your balance since you were relatively new to this. You fell on your back but broke your fall with your arm.

Yeosang rushed towards you and helped you up. You yelped in paid when he grabbed your arm.

"it hurts so much" you shook.

He took you to a hospital where the doctor told you your wrist was dislocated.

He felt awful and blamed it on himself. He stayed by your side before and after your surgery and even helped you with your daily life stuff until you got better. You were happy to spend a lot of time with him and told him it wasn't his fault.

"you are never riding a skateboard again. Like ever."

San

You were visiting Namhae to meet San's family. He always talked about them and told you how important they were to him so you paid them a visit, knowing it would make San the happiest.

You were sat on the couch, chatting with his sister while the TV was on. It was a random drama which none of you were interested in, rather wanting to talk about girl stuff.

"Sannie is a sensitive one, though he doesn't show it" his sister let you know.

"I know, I have never seen him cry. I used to think he doesn't care but then I found out that he's just very good at controlling his emotions."

You two were indulged in the conversation and didn't see San entering the room with Byeol in his arms.

"Y/N I want you to meet our family's master"

You and his sister giggled.

"Byeol, this is Y/N. I hope you come to terms with the fact that your position as the girl I'd die for has been taken by her."

You were a blushing mess and had butterflies in your stomach. San was always kind and loving towards you. And as if Byeol had understood what San had said, she started acting up.

"can I pet her?" you asked, earning encouraging nods from the Choi siblings. You stretched your hand you gently pet her head but Byeol acted first and violently scratched your hand, drawing blood.

"Byeol no!" San whined as the cat hissed at you and ran to the other room.

You clutched your hand tightly, trying to soothe the pain but it came in waves and burned. San worriedly came closer to you and him and his sister examined your hand. There was definitely blood coming out of the claw marks. They had to take you to the hospital to get you tetanus shots.

"I'm so sorry Y/N, your hand is ruined and you're in pain because of me"

"not because of you Sannie, it was Byeol but you can't really blame her, she an animal after all"

Mingi

Mingi took you to the dance studio to show you the new dance he choreographed. He was happy with it and spent a lot of time perfecting it and wanted you to see it. You were supportive of his ambitions as a rapper and a dancer, aside from Ateez. He was grateful for you for being by his side and understanding the time and effort it required. You never complained when he was unable to make time for you sometimes, knowing that he was working hard. The bond you shared was strong and you two were inseparable.

"okay I'm gonna start, queue the music"

And with that he started dancing. You were in awe of the way his body moved and how effortlessly he executed the difficult moves. You clapped when he finished.

"wow Mingi... this is... wow... I'm so proud" you were at a loss of words.

"come on I'll teach you the floor move, it's the easiest"

It was the easiest, for a trained dancer that is. You both didn't realize how difficult it actually was. You, because you weren't a dancer and Mingi made it look like a piece of cake. Mingi, because it came naturally to him and he had insane body control so he thought it was actually easy.

He taught you how to slide using your core strength. You didn't have a strong core to begin with, so you landed on your knee and pain shot up in your leg. You clutched it and let out a whine. Mingi took a look at it saw it reddening.

"I'm sorry for making you do this" he shook his head.

"nah I shouldn't have said yes" you smiled, not wanting him to be upset.

"let's get you home"

Wooyoung

He kept his artist of the month news a secret from you. He wanted to surprise you with it. So when you saw it on twitter you called him and congratulated him.

"this is huge Woo, I'm so proud of you!"

"I know you're rooting for me. I want you to come at the practice session we're having, just so we can perform on stage too"

You agreed to come and dressed up for him. When he saw you enter the studio in your black jeans that hugged your curves and the loose green cardigan which you styled and tucked in from the front. You had your hair down and mere sight of you took Wooyoung's breath away. His dancer friend from bb trippin' knew about your relationship but some of the staff was different that day and didn't know who you were.

Your eyes gleaned, watching Wooyoung dance. He was in his element and looked ethereal. The practice session ended and before you could run to him and hug him, you saw another woman, a staff member get close to him, handing him a water bottle and wiping his sweat off with a cloth. You were stunned but didn't think muhh about it, since his job required him to be around other women too. You watched from a distance how she talked to him for some time and subtly placed a hand on his thigh, giggling and telling him he did well. You were hurt to say the least. He didn't spare you a glance and then talked to her as if you weren't in the room. You didn't ruin the mood for him at the moment but were screaming internally watching her flirt with your man in broad daylight and him going along with him.

After the session ended, his choreographer called him to discuss important matters with him and the staff started leaving. You noticed how the same woman was hanging around, until another senior staff member told her to pack up and leave. After the discussion, Wooyoung came running to you.

"did you like it?" he asked excitedly.

"the performance? yes. The little show with that staff woman? absolutely not"

His face fell at your words.

"baby listen, I had to let it slide. It's not like I could've swat her hands away and tell her to go away. Having good chemistry with the staff results in good performances. Please try to understand"

"I don't know Wooyoung. And this is just what I saw. I can't stop imagining what else goes on since I'm not around all the time"

"I want you to trust me. I'm all yours. No one can take me away from you. No one. You don't know the hold you have around my heart. You don't know what you do to me. It's you and only you. Never forget that."

Jongho

If there's one thing in this world that Jongho liked doing the most, it was comparing how strong he was compared to you. No, you didn't even compare. You didn't even come close. He loved lifting you like it was nothing, tightening jars on purpose so you would ask him to open them for you and lifting the furniture with one hand while you both cleaned. He also loved arm wrestling with you with just two of his fingers of his non dominant hand, while you struggled to win with your dominant hand.

You both sat in the middle of the living room. Jongho challenged you to arm wrestling and the loser would have to clean the dishes. He wasn't even trying while you were shaking by using the entire strength in your arm. He got a little cocky when his hand got tired and decided to end it with a bang. He used intense force and your hand landed on the table with a thud. You pulled it back and rubbed it. He didn't fully realize how hard he hurt you until he saw just how red the back of your hand was. He immediately apologized but you got up to give yourself first aid, not responding to him. He followed you to the kitchen and tried helping but you shoved him aside.

"leave me alone"

"I'm sorry I hurt you. Let me help"

"Jongho please just leave me alone right now"

He felt awful to have hurt you and after you went to your bedroom, he did the dishes. You had invited him to stay the night at your apartment so he was glad he could be around to make it up to you.

He came to you some time later and apologized again and took responsibility of his actions.

"you scared me Jongho"

"I'm so sorry, I'll be more careful I promise"

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez imagines #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong x y/n #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa x y/n #ateez yunho #yunho x you #ateez yeosang #yeosang x reader #ateez san #san x y/n #ateez mingi #mingi x reader #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung x y/n #ateez jongho #jongho x reader #ateez fluff #ateez angst

[homoose]

Atlas

Summary: Three times that Spencer needed support, and one time he gave it. Lightly insp by the song Atlas by The Dip.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: heavy on the fluff, a lil bit of angst

Warnings/Includes: brief mentions of general anxiety/trauma/mild depression

Word count: 4.4k

———

Spencer pressed his fingers so far into the sockets of his eyes that Y/N thought he might actually jam one of his eyeballs into his brain. He was hunched over his desk, reading through the file of the case he was consulting on. Even on his mandatory 30-day leave, Spencer couldn’t fully tear himself away from hunting monsters.

Y/N moved from where she had been leaning against the doorframe, walking further into Spencer’s office. “Another headache?” She sighed, wrapping her arms around Spencer’s shoulders and pressing her warm cheek to his temple.

Spencer hummed. “Just need another cup of coffee.”

“Honey, you’ve been awake for almost three days,” Y/N sighed. “What you need is a gallon of water and 12 hours sleep.”

He leaned back further into the circle of Y/N’s arms and covered her hands with his own. “I can’t—the team needs this consult before they leave on Monday.”

“And just how long have you been reading this page?” Y/N questioned. When Spencer didn’t respond, she continued, “Mmhm, that’s what I thought. When it takes Dr. Reid two minutes to finish a page, something’s up.” She patted his chest. “Even the biggest brain needs a break.”

“Actually, there’s very little evidence that brain size has any correlation with measured levels of intell—” Spencer started.

“So you’ve mentioned,” Y/N chuckled. “My point still stands. I’m gonna make you a cup of tea and a snack, and then we’re gonna take a nap.” She kissed the top of his head before releasing her hold on him and moving to the kitchen.

Y/N filled the kettle and placed it on the stove before scrolling to find the playlist she had curated for days like this. The melancholic sounds of the Moonlight Sonata came through the bluetooth speaker as she pulled a wooden cutting board from the cupboard. Y/N dug through the bag from her earlier grocery run. She began placing the crackers, dried fruit, nuts, and cheeses on the board, taking time to arrange each piece just so. When she was satisfied with her work, Y/N turned to reach up on her tiptoes into the cupboard for her secret weapon. With a small smile, she placed it in the very center of the board. The kettle had barely begun its whistle when Y/N snatched it from the stove, cringing with a glance toward the door of Spencer’s office. She pulled his best-loved mug from the dish rack and dropped a fresh tea bag into it, covering it with the steaming water.

As the tea steeped, Y/N moved to the living room, crossing her arms as she contemplated the space. Although it was much darker than Y/N’s own living space, it was still far too bright to be comfortable for Spencer’s light sensitivity. Y/N made a mental note to find a suitable set of blackout curtains before retrieving a blanket from inside the trunk-style coffee table. She carried one of the kitchen chairs over to the window, quietly setting it underneath the curtain rod. Stepping up on the seat of the chair, she tossed the blanket up, trying to layer it up over the curtain. It took a few tries, but Y/N got it up and over the rod, adjusting it to block as much of the light as possible. She hopped off the chair, landing on the floor with a quiet thud.

“You didn’t have to do all this.” Spencer stood outside his office, hands in his pockets and honey colored eyes settled on Y/N’s face as she turned to him.

“I know.” Y/N padded across the hardwood. She grabbed Spencer’s hand and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. She shrugged, pulling him into the kitchen. “I don’t mind. I like taking care of you.” When they reached the table, she popped an almond into her mouth with a grin.

Spencer’s eyes moved over the cutting board, lips turning up in a small smile—the first one Y/N had seen in days—when they landed on the Jell-O cup. He picked it up and peeled back the lid. Y/N held up her mug of tea. Spencer let out a laugh and tapped it with his Jell-O. “Cheers.”

When the board held only crumbs and the mugs were empty, Y/N stood from the table and pulled Spencer to his feet. “Come on, nap time.”

“Y/N, I appreciate the thought, but I really have to finish—”

“Nope, sorry, that’s not part of the deal.” She gently pushed him toward the couch. At Spencer’s resistance, Y/N huffed out a breath. “Spence, you need a break. I’m not even asking you to go to bed. Just lay on the couch.” She lifted a hand to cradle Spencer’s face. “Unlike the brain size thing, there is actual research that says your brain doesn't function properly when you’re tired. And you, my love, are t-i-r-e-d.”

Spencer allowed himself to be lowered onto the brown leather couch, rubbing at his eyes. “Just twenty minutes.”

“Mhmm.” Y/N reclined next to him on the couch, grabbing the throw blanket draped over the back. “I’ll set the alarm.” She held out her arms. “C’mere.”

Despite himself, Spencer didn’t hesitate, winding his arms around Y/N’s middle and laying his head on her shoulder. She tucked the blanket around the both of them and wound their legs together.

“The alarm’s set?” Spencer mumbled, already falling under the spell of sleep.

Y/N pushed her fingers through his hair and scratched lightly at his scalp, smiling when he hummed happily and burrowed his face into her chest. “Setting it now,” she assured. Maybe she set it a little longer than 20 minutes, but Spencer didn’t need to know that.

⧭⧭⧭

Y/N rolled over toward the nightstand and reached out, clumsily running her hand across the smooth table to grab the ringing phone. When her fingers wrapped around the device, she pulled it towards her only to have it jerk abruptly out of her hand when the charging cord reached its limit. “Shit,” Y/N muttered as it clattered to the floor. She emerged from under the duvet, leaning off the side of the bed and dragging her hand blindly across the floor. Finally, clutching the phone in one hand and pushing herself back into bed with the other, Y/N swiped to answer the call. “H‘lo?”

“Hey.”

At the sound of Spencer’s voice, Y/N was suddenly wide-awake. “Spence? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, I just—um. I know it’s late, sorry. Are you—? I just—God, you have to work in the morning, I’m sorry. I can—it can wait.”

Y/N paused a moment to make sure he was finished before asking, “Do you need me to come to you, or are you coming here?”

Spencer let out a sigh of relief. “I can—I’ll come to you.”

After thirty minutes of groggy pacing, Y/N opened the door to Spencer, hair frizzy and clothes rumpled from a long flight. She stepped back, allowing him into the apartment and then closing the door behind him. Spencer dropped his go-bag on the floor and ran a hand over his face as Y/N turned the deadbolt and secured the chain. She had barely turned around before he was latching onto her, completely enervated. He burrowed his face into the crook of her neck, and Y/N wrapped her arms tightly around him.

Y/N shifted her weight slowly back and forth, moving the two of them in a gentle swaying motion. She rubbed a hand up and down Spencer’s back, soothing and rhythmic. Spencer let out a shaky breath, and Y/N felt the collar of her shirt becoming damp. She brought a hand up to Spencer’s head, stroking his hair and repeating a familiar mantra: “You’re safe. I’m here. You’re safe. I’m right here.”

Y/N lost track of how long they stood there, swaying and soothing and shattering. Maybe minutes or maybe hours later, Spencer pulled back, head lowered and swiping his arm underneath his nose. Y/N reached out to grasp his face in both her hands, lifting it and sweeping her thumbs under his eyes. When Spencer finally looked at her, Y/N saw the golden irises were shining and ringed with red. “I love you.”

“I love you. So much.” Spencer circled Y/N’s wrists in his hands. “So much.”

She pressed one, two, three chaste kisses to his chapped lips. She dropped one kiss onto the tip of his nose, drawing out a hesitant smile. “Wanna talk about it?”

He shook his head. “No.” Y/N pursed their lips, and Spencer sighed. “I—I will talk to someone, I promise. But I just—I don’t want it in here. In our space.” Y/N wound her fingers through Spencer’s, pulled his arms down, and tugged him closer. “Honestly, I just want to sleep with you,” Spencer admitted. Y/N wiggled her eyebrows and Spencer laughed. “You know what I mean.”

Y/N tried to pull a pout but just ended up smiling. “Fine. Come on, spoilsport. Let’s go to bed.”

⧭⧭⧭

“It was just… not a good day for her.” Spencer leaned back on the couch and scrubbed his hands over his face.

Y/N sat next to him on the couch. She couldn’t find the right words. “I’m so sorry, Spence.”

“Pragmatically, I know that there’s nothing more I could be doing. She made it clear what she wants, and I can’t force her to take medications or try new treatments.” He looked down at his hands, fingers tracing the lines of his palms. “But some days I—I just can’t… reconcile that this is what her life is now. Just… remembering less and less every day. Being confused and agitated all the time. I mean, all the time.” He paused and drew his lips into a thin line. “Not knowing who I am. That happens much more frequently than it used to.”

Y/N reclined back next to him on the couch, putting her feet up on the coffee table and pressing her shoulder to Spencer’s. “Even if she doesn’t always remember, you do. And if there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you are irritatingly persistent,” she joked. “You won’t ever stop trying to remind her. And that’s the best thing you can do for her.”

Spencer nodded, dropping his head onto Y/N’s shoulder. She tilted her head, an idea flitting across the front of her mind. “Hey, here’s a thought. You know that scrapbook your mom made? Every page is a story from her life. But she stopped around the time you were like, ten, right?”

“Yeah. There’s… not much in there after that.”

“Ok so, what if you picked up where she left off? You have so many great stories and memories with her. You could put some of your journals and articles in there, too. Pictures of you and the team. That one of you and Ethan in New Orleans. Ones with Henry and Michael. Maybe one of you in the lecture hall.” Y/N sat up. “Writing her letters is great, you should keep doing that for sure. But did you know that visual aids—like, particularly photographs—can help stimulate memory recall in Alzheimer’s patients at any stage?”

Spencer smiled. “I actually did know that.”

“Ugh of course you did. Couldn’t just let me have this one thing.” Y/N rolled her eyes, though Spencer caught the hint of a grin underneath the feigned annoyance. “Seriously, I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner. I have a ton of scrapbooking stuff,” Y/N said, scrambling up from the couch and into her bedroom.  

“You do?” Spencer furrowed his brow. “I’ve never seen you scrapbook.”

“Eh, yeah, it was a phase,” she called from the bedroom. “Scrapbooking paper’s expensive as fuck, so it was a short-lived hobby.”

Spencer chuckled, listening to the sounds of Y/N rummaging through the bedroom closet. There was a muffled thud. “Everything okay in there?”

There were a couple more bumps and bangs, and then, “Ah yeah, here we go.” Emerging from the bedroom, Y/N wheeled a huge black roller bag over to the couch. She unzipped the top pocket and Spencer peered inside. “Oh so you meant, quite literally, a ton of scrapbooking stuff.”

“Look, my ADHD goes all out when it comes to starting new projects.” Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “It’s the, you know, finishing projects that we struggle with.”

The pair went about die cutting, arranging, gluing, and giggling. Y/N scoured the depths of the internet (namely Penelope’s Facebook page) for photographs of Spencer—in costume at the BAU Halloween party, in his tuxedo at JJ and Will’s wedding, a selfie with Penelope at a Dr. Who convention, a candid of him doing magic for Jack and Henry, and even one of him singing karaoke.

Spencer worked on laying out the pages, gluing down frames and choosing decals that reminded him of his mother. He wrote a short synopsis on each page, summarizing his degrees, his work, and his friends. By the end of the afternoon, they had more than a dozen pages for the new book.

“I need one more picture,” Spencer said.

“I thought I got one of everyone? Or is there another karaoke picture that I don’t know about?” Y/N gawked over the top of the laptop from her spot on the couch. She was never going to let him live that down.

Spencer laughed. “No, I’m pretty sure that’s the only photographic evidence of that night.” He turned and smiled up at Y/N from where he sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by scraps of paper and the remnants of sticker packs. “I need that one of us at the Cherry Blossom festival.”

“Oh. Well, um.” A blush crept up Y/N’s cheeks. “Coming right up.” She sent the photo to the printer, standing to retrieve it from her desk.

It was quiet in the room apart from the sounds of the printer, rhythmically whirring and inking the memory into life. Y/N absentmindedly chewed the inside of her lip, waiting for the final strokes of the photo to be laid. She turned back, photo in hand, to see Spencer smiling at her, soft and warm.

Over the course of the afternoon, he had swapped his shoes for a pair of fuzzy socks, and his contacts for his glasses. Y/N’s heart actually ached at the length of his sweater sleeves, covering all but the tips of his fingers. The picture of domesticity, Spencer patted the floor next to him. When Y/N sat, he took the photo from her hand, meticulously adding glue dots to each corner before pressing it down onto the page. He lifted his arm, tucking Y/N underneath and pulling her close. “Thank you. For all of this.”

“You’re very welcome.” Y/N snuggled a little deeper into his embrace. “All right so let’s see this masterpiece.”

When they arrived at the last page, Y/N was still incredulous over the details of the karaoke story. “Okay, but there has to be a video somewhere.”

“Oh, I’m sure there is. And you will never, ever see it.”

“Penelope Garcia is a tech wizard, and she is not above a bribe,” Y/N warned.

“What a coincidence, because I am also not above a bribe. Especially if it keeps that video from ever seeing the light of day.” Spencer laughed and squeezed Y/N’s shoulder. “I think this page is my favorite.”

Y/N and I at the Cherry Blossom festival. Y/N is kind, thoughtful, and passionate. She never fails to make me laugh. She’s always up for cloud watching with me, although she prefers altocumulus formations to the cumuliform heaps. We read together almost every night. You both love King Arthur and the Legends of the Round Table, particularly Tristan and Iseult. I could write a million more words about her and it wouldn’t be enough. When I was little, you told me that love is a world of its own that lives in the heart, not in the head. I know exactly what you mean.

⧭⧭⧭

Y/N tossed under the duvet, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to find a comfortable position. She had been sleeping for so long that her lower back was aching, the type of pain that twinges like the ticking of a clock, steady and incessant. She rolled over onto her stomach, stretching her whole body and reaching to turn the alarm clock toward her—3:27pm. She huffed, burying her head in the pillow with a loud groan. She had called out of work to have a productive day at home, and instead she slept the day away.

Y/N threw the duvet off and sat up. She tried not to let the guilt of calling out creep in. Instead, she shuffled into the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. She resolved that small victories might be all she was capable of today.

She pulled her favorite sweater from the hook on her bedroom door, wrapping it tightly around her as she stepped over the threshold into the living and dining space. This is why she had stayed in bed so long. Y/N had been spending so much time at Spencer’s that she had been able to ignore the declining Depression Room™ facing her now.

Three days’ worth of dishes were piled in the sink. There was a stack of unopened mail about a mile high on the kitchen island. The trash and recycling needed emptying about a week ago. Jackets and shoes were strewn about the place—over chairs, the back of the couch, all over the floor. The coffee table was littered with granola bar wrappers, an old McDonald’s bag, empty gatorade bottles, and the dirty containers from last night’s takeout. Her desk was overrun with unfinished lesson plans, professional development books that needed reading, and spelling tests that needed grading.

Y/N knew she would feel better once she started, but she also knew it would take her all day to get the apartment looking even halfway decent. Since she had spent so long in bed, she had even less time to get it done. She was failing to fend off the guilt of calling out, particularly since she hadn’t actually gotten any work done. Compounding her guilt was the fact that Spencer’s apartment was always so clean and cozy. His job was a thousand times more demanding than hers. His life had more trauma and daily stressors than she could even imagine. And still, Y/N was struggling with basic adult tasks. She couldn’t understand it.

Just hang the jackets up. Throw away the junk mail. Wash the pots and pans first, then the plates and silverware. It will take four minutes to take the trash out. Spelling tests need to be in the grade book before the end of the marking period.

The door buzzer sounded and Y/N nearly jumped out of her skin. Running a hand through her hair and cringing at the greasiness, she crossed to the intercom and pushed the button to talk.

“Yes?”

“Hey!” Spencer’s chipper voice crackled through the speaker. “I tried calling you but couldn’t get through.”

Y/N was immediately torn between relief and panic. She was desperately in need of a hug and his company, but she was also mortified imagining what Spencer would think about the state of her apartment, the state of her life. “Y/N?” His voice broke through her musing.

“Yeah, sorry!” She tried to school her voice into something resembling normalcy. “Sorry, I—my phone died and I just— well, yeah.”

There was a pause, and then a tentative, “Can you buzz me in?”

“Oh, um.” Y/N turned and surveyed the apartment. There was nothing to be done. If she said no, Spencer would know for sure that something was wrong. “Sure, yeah yeah, hang on. Just—just a minute.”

Y/N moved quickly around the space and gathered the jackets and shoes into her arms. She fumbled with the door handle of the coat closet, tossing them in haphazardly and closing the door. There was no time to do much of anything else. She jogged back to the intercom, pressing the door button and then roping her hair up into a bun, hoping she could mask how dirty it was. She could hear Spencer coming up the squeaky stairs and felt her eyes start to water. She tilted her head back to keep the tears at bay.

Even Spencer’s knocking sounded happy. And of course that only made Y/N feel worse. She plastered on her best smile and opened the door. “Hi.”

“Hey!” Spencer stepped past Y/N, kissing her cheek and dropping his bag as he entered the apartment. “We had a paperwork day, and I write reports about as fast as I read, so I’m always done early. How was your day?”

“Um, you know, it was ok.”

Spencer’s eyes tracked over her face. “Did something happen?”  

“No, no, I just wasn’t feeling great this morning. I called in, just hung around here.”

“You could have called me.” Spencer stepped closer. “How are you feeling now? What were your symptoms?”

“I’m fine. I was just, um—just really exhausted.”

Spencer studied her face a moment. “What’s going on?”

“Hmm? Nothing. Nothing, I’m fine.” Y/N cursed her wavering voice for betraying her emotions.

“Y/N, you have never once, in all the time I’ve known you, failed to answer your phone. I almost thought you were going to tell me to go away before you buzzed me up.” He put his hands in his pockets. “Did I— Did I do something to make you upset?”

Y/N closed her eyes, feeling more awful by the minute. Of course Spencer would worry it was his fault. “No, no, Spence, not at all. I just—um.” The genuine concern on Spencer’s face was enough to have it all spilling out. “I get like this sometimes. I can’t focus on anything or don’t feel motivated or whatever, so I put things off, and then they build up until there’s so much to do that I don’t know where to start, so then I don’t start anything, and then I feel bad about being lazy and not getting things done, and I get so overwhelmed that all I can do is sleep for like, fourteen hours like I did today, and then the whole day is gone and I still haven’t accomplished anything I was supposed to—”

“Whoa, whoa, c’mere.” Y/N hadn’t even realized she was crying until Spencer pulled her into him. He locked his arms around her back so tight it almost hurt. She was vaguely aware of the volume of her sobs, but she couldn’t even bring herself to be embarrassed. It was a completely visceral moment of release, one that she might never have permitted herself without Spencer’s prompting. Now that the floodgates were open, there was no stopping the rush of everything she had allowed to build up. She spent so much of her life being the one who helped, always listening, supporting, and comforting the people around her. She was good at it, and she liked being someone that others could count on whenever they needed her. She just didn’t know how to listen to, support, and comfort herself.

Eventually, her mind and body began to slow down, plunging from the emotional high. When Spencer felt her breathing return to that consistent rhythm, he loosened his grip around her. He left one arm firmly around her waist and used his other hand to rub circles on her back.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N mumbled into his chest. “This is so stupid. Compared to the stuff you see every day—”

“No— no.” Spencer pulled back to force her eyes up. “Don’t do that. Just because horrible things happen to other people doesn’t mean that what you’re going through isn’t hard. Y/N, do you hear me? Don’t diminish your own pain because you think someone else has it worse.” He cupped her chin gently in his hand. “What can I do to help you right now?”

“You already have helped,” Y/N sniffed. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”  

“Y/N... you’re not fine. And there’s nothing wrong with that. It—it’s okay to not be fine. But seeing you in pain hurts me, too. And I need to be able to do something about it.” He cradled her face in both hands. “You help me all the time. Please, let me do this for you. Let me be here for you.” After a moment, Y/N nodded and that was approval enough for Spencer. “What did you eat today?  

“I um, I didn’t yet.” She sniffed. “I slept pretty late.”  

“Okay, well it’s after 4:00pm. We’ve got to eat something.” Spencer ran his hands down Y/N’s arms. “I’d cook for you, but we already know how that story usually ends. How about takeout from the Indian place? They’re usually pretty quick.”

Y/N nodded again. “I need to take a shower, too.”

Spencer kissed her forehead. “You hop in the shower, and I’ll call in the order. It’ll be here by the time you’re done.”

When Y/N emerged from the bathroom, hair damp and skin smelling like lavender, the familiar aroma of curry and tandoori was drifting through the apartment. The coffee table was cleared and the kitchen table set with the takeout boxes and mugs of tea. The trash and recycling were freshly emptied. Spencer stood over the sink finishing up the last few dishes, the pots and pans already laid out to dry.  He was quietly singing along to a familiar song—one of their favorites. His voice was sweet and soft and slightly off-key, and her heart panged in the best way as he sang:

Don't put the world on your shoulders 'cause you know it ain't your load to bear alone.

Y/N waited until the final notes of the song faded out, padding quietly across the kitchen floor. “You didn’t have to do all this,” Y/N said, wrapping her arms around his middle.

Spencer dried his hands before turning in her embrace. “I don’t mind. I like taking care of you. And I learned from the best.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and spoke against her skin. “You can even have the last Jell-o.”

Y/N smiled, quick and genuine. There were moments when life crashed over her, relentless waves breaking her down into grains of sand. And in those moments, this man forever grounded her to the truth—that she was treasured and deserving and whole— all of her, just as she was.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminals minds self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #homoose writes

[katnissmellarkkk]

Hiiii! Here’s part two of my Katniss and Peeta Taking Of Each Other bookcomb! It’s pretty long so … sorry 😬. There was a lot I didn’t include and a lot I wasn’t sure about including, because so much of Catching Fire and Mockingjay is about them wanting to protect the other but I tried to narrow it down to actual acts that were caring, or times they at least tried to care for the other.

-

Then, as if I can’t stand it another second, I start running. He catches me and spins me around and then he slips — he still isn’t entirely in command of his artificial leg — and we fall into the snow, me on top of him, and that’s where we have our first kiss in months. It’s full of fur and snowflakes and lipstick, but underneath all that, I can feel the steadiness that Peeta brings to everything. And I know I’m not alone. As badly as I have hurt him, he won’t expose me in front of the cameras. Won’t condemn me with a halfhearted kiss. He’s still looking out for me. Just as he did in the arena. Somehow the thought makes me want to cry. Instead I pull him to his feet, tuck my glove through the crook of his arm, and merrily pull him on our way.

-

“We’re going!” says Peeta, shoving the Peacekeeper who’s pressing on me. “We get it, all right? Come on, Katniss.” His arm encircles me and guides me back into the Justice Building. The Peacekeepers follow a pace or two behind us.

-

Effie starts giving me pills to sleep, but they don’t work. Not well enough. I drift off only to be roused by nightmares that have increased in number and intensity. Peeta, who spends much of the night roaming the train, hears me screaming as I struggle to break out of the haze of drugs that merely prolong the horrible dreams. He manages to wake me and calm me down. Then he climbs into bed to hold me until I fall back to sleep. After that, I refuse the pills. But every night I let him into my bed. We manage the darkness as we did in the arena, wrapped in each other’s arms, guarding against dangers that can descend at any moment.

-

“He was poaching. What business is it of hers, anyway?” says the man.

“He’s her cousin.” Peeta’s got my other arm now, but gently. “And she’s my fiancée. So if you want to get to him, expect to go through both of us.”

-

When my mother has locked the door behind them, I slump against the table.

“What is it?” says Peeta, holding me steadily.

“Oh, I banged up my left foot. The heel. And my tailbone’s had a bad day, too.” He helps me over to one of the rockers and I lower myself onto the padded cushion.

My mother eases off my boots. “What happened?”

“I slipped and fell,” I say. Four pairs of eyes look at me with disbelief. “On some ice.” But we all know the house must be bugged and it’s not safe to talk openly. Not here, not now.

-

My mother gives me a cup of chamomile tea with a dose of sleep syrup, and my eyelids begin to droop immediately. She wraps my bad foot, and Peeta volunteers to get me to bed. I start out by leaning on his shoulder, but I’m so wobbly he just scoops me up and carries me upstairs. He tucks me in and says good night but I catch his hand and hold him there.

-

Peeta sits on the side of the bed, warming my hand in both of his. “Almost thought you’d changed your mind today. When you were late for dinner.”

I’m foggy but I can guess what he means. With the fence going on and me showing up late and the Peacekeepers waiting, he thought I’d made a run for it, maybe with Gale.

“No, I’d have told you,” I say. I pull his hand up and lean my cheek against the back of it, taking in the faint scent of cinnamon and dill from the breads he must have baked today.

-

Each afternoon he carries me downstairs for a change of scenery and I unnerve everyone by turning on the television.

-

Effie, shining in a wig of metallic gold, lacks her usual verve. She has to claw around the girls’ reaping ball for quite a while to snag the one piece of paper that everyone already knows has my name on it. Then she catches Haymitch’s name. He barely has time to shoot me an unhappy look before Peeta has volunteered to take his place.

-

“Why would he paint a picture of me, Effie?” I ask, somehow annoyed.

“To show he’s going to do everything he can to defend you. That’s what everyone in the Capitol’s expecting, anyway. Didn’t he volunteer to go in with you?” Effie says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

-

I lock my fingers tightly into his and say, “Watch my feet. Just try to step where I step.” It helps. We seem to move a little faster, but never enough to afford a rest, and the mist continues to lap at our heels.

-

Peeta and Finnick and I position ourselves in a triangle, a few yards apart, our backs to one another. My heart sinks as my fingers draw back my last arrow. Then I remember Peeta has a sheath, too. And he’s not shooting, he’s hacking away with that knife. My own knife is out now, but the monkeys are quicker, can spring in and out so fast you can barely react.

“Peeta!” I shout. “Your arrows!”

Peeta turns to see my predicament and is sliding off his sheath when it happens. A monkey lunges out of a tree for his chest. I have no arrow, no way to shoot. I can hear the thud of Finnick’s trident finding another mark and know his weapon is occupied. Peeta’s knife arm is disabled as he tries to remove the sheath. I throw my knife at the oncoming mutt but the creature somersaults, evading the blade, and stays on its trajectory.

Weaponless, defenseless, I do the only thing I can think of. I run for Peeta, to knock him to the ground, to protect his body with mine, even though I know I won’t make it in time.

-

While I help Peeta coat his skin with the ointment, Finnick deftly cleans the meat from the shellfish.

-

I stretch out, pressing my hot cheek on the grass mat, staring at the thing in aggravation. Peeta rubs a tense spot between my shoulders and I let myself relax a little.

-

I know it’s stopped when I feel Peeta’s hands on me, feel myself lifted from the ground and out of the jungle. But I stay eyes squeezed shut, hands over my ears, muscles too rigid to release. Peeta holds me on his lap, speaking soothing words, rocking me gently. It takes a long time before I begin to relax the iron grip on my body. And when I do, the trembling begins.

“It’s all right, Katniss,” he whispers.

-

“Katniss!” I hear his voice though he’s a far distance away. But what is he doing? Peeta must have figured out that everyone is hunting us by now. “Katniss!”

I can’t protect him. I can’t move fast or far and my shooting abilities are questionable at best. I do the one thing I can to draw the attackers away from him and over to me. “Peeta!” I scream out. “Peeta! I’m here! Peeta!” Yes, I will draw them in, any in my vicinity, away from Peeta and over to me and the lightning tree that will soon be a weapon in and of itself. “I’m here! I’m here!” He won’t make it. Not with that leg in the night. He will never make it in time. “Peeta!”

-

I’m rattled by the turn in the conversation. The implications that I could so readily dispose of Peeta, that I’m in love with Gale, that the whole thing has been an act. My cheeks begin to burn. The very notion that I’m devoting any thought to who I want presented as my lover, given our current circumstances, is demeaning. I let my anger propel me into my greatest demand. “When the war is over, if we’ve won, Peeta will be pardoned.”

-

At the mention of my name, Peeta’s face contorts in effort. “Katniss . . . how do you think this will end? What will be left? No one is safe. Not in the Capitol. Not in the districts. And you . . . in Thirteen . . .” He inhales sharply, as if fighting for air; his eyes look insane. “Dead by morning!”

Off camera, Snow orders, “End it!” Beetee throws the whole thing into chaos by flashing a still shot of me standing in front of the hospital at three-second intervals. But between the images, we are privy to the real-life action being played out on the set. Peeta’s attempt to continue speaking. The camera knocked down to record the white tiled floor. The scuffle of boots. The impact of the blow that’s inseparable from Peeta’s cry of pain.

And his blood as it splatters the tiles.

-

I poke around in the pile, about to settle on some cod chowder, when Peeta holds out a can to me. “Here.” I take it, not knowing what to expect. The label reads LAMB STEW.

I press my lips together at the memories of rain dripping through stones, my inept attempts at flirting, and the aroma of my favorite Capitol dish in the chilly air. So some part of it must still be in his head, too. How happy, how hungry, how close we were when that picnic basket arrived outside our cave.

-

In the fluorescent light, the circles under his eyes look like bruises. “There’s still time. You should sleep.” Unresisting, he lies back down, but just stares at the needle on one of the dials as it twitches from side to side. Slowly, as I would with a wounded animal, my hand stretches out and brushes a wave of hair from his forehead. He freezes at my touch, but doesn’t recoil. So I continue to gently smooth back his hair. It’s the first time I have voluntarily touched him since the last arena.

“You’re still trying to protect me. Real or not real,” he whispers.

“Real,” I answer. It seems to require more explanation. “Because that’s what you and I do. Protect each other.” After a minute or so, he drifts off to sleep.

-

“Katniss!” He whips his head toward me but doesn’t seem to notice my bow, the waiting arrow. “Katniss! Get out of here!”

I hesitate. His voice is alarmed, but not insane. “Why? What’s making that sound?”

“I don’t know. Only that it has to kill you,” says Peeta. “Run! Get out! Go!”

-

It’s a long shot, it’s suicide maybe, but I do the only thing I can think of. I lean in and kiss Peeta full on the mouth. His whole body starts shuddering, but I keep my lips pressed to his until I have to come up for air. My hands slide up his wrists to clasp his. “Don’t let him take you from me.”

Peeta’s panting hard as he fights the nightmares raging in his head. “No. I don’t want to . . .”

I clench his hands to the point of pain. “Stay with me.”

His pupils contract to pinpoints, dilate again rapidly, and then return to something resembling normalcy. “Always,” he murmurs.

I help Peeta up and address Pollux.

-

While Cressida and Pollux make fur nests for each of us, I attend to Peeta’s wrists. Gently rinsing away the blood, putting on an antiseptic, and bandaging them beneath the cuffs.

-

By the time I make it back to the fence, I’m so sick and dizzy, Thom has to give me a ride home in the dead people’s cart. Help me to the sofa in the living room, where I watch the dust motes spin in the thin shafts of afternoon light.

My head snaps around at the hiss, but it takes awhile to believe he’s real. How could he have gotten here? I take in the claw marks from some wild animal, the back paw he holds slightly above the ground, the prominent bones in his face. He’s come on foot, then, all the way from 13. Maybe they kicked him out or maybe he just couldn’t stand it there without her, so he came looking.

[…]

Out of nowhere, the tears begin to pour down my cheeks. “She’s dead.” I clutch my middle to dull the pain. Sink down on my heels, rocking the pillow, crying. “She’s dead, you stupid cat. She’s dead.” A new sound, part crying, part singing, comes out of my body, giving voice to my despair. Buttercup begins to wail as well. No matter what I do, he won’t go. He circles me, just out of reach, as wave after wave of sobs racks my body, until eventually I fall unconscious. But he must understand. He must know that the unthinkable has happened and to survive will require previously unthinkable acts. Because hours later, when I come to in my bed, he’s there in the moonlight. Crouched beside me, yellow eyes alert, guarding me from the night.

-

Peeta, bearing a warm loaf of bread, shows up with Greasy Sae. She makes us breakfast and I feed all my bacon to Buttercup.

-

I wake screaming from nightmares of mutts and lost children. But his arms are there to comfort me. And eventually his lips. On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway.

-

Peeta says it will be okay. We have each other. And the book. We can make them understand in a way that will make them braver.

-

#everlark #thg #thgagain #bookcomb ♥️🔎 #hunger games #katniss everdeen #Peeta mellark #catching fire #mockingjay #long post

[cyarefives]

Only You

Possessive Fives (Fives x fem!reader)

Rating: 18+ explicit

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: smut, oral sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex

Summary: You’ve just gotten off a long shift in a Coruscant medbay and you’re tired and kind of just want to sleep... but you get a wristcomm ping from Fives saying he and the boys are heading to 79′s, and do you want to meet them there? You say yes, of course, because it’s always a fun time drinking with them - and secretly you really want to see Fives, because you’ve been getting ~vibes~ from him lately and you’re down bad.

(Disclaimer: partially inspired by @delusionsxfgrandeur​‘s posts, particularly this one anon ask about Boba Fett making you watch him fuck you in the mirror that had me hnngng. hhh n)

Setting the scene:

You get to 79’s, and the Torrent Company boys, dressed in just their blacks and lower body armor, greet you merrily (most of them are already a couple drinks in). Fives approaches with a soft, “Hey, you,” one-arm hugging you and rubbing your back, kissing you on the temple, and handing you a mug of your favorite kind of beer - because he knows you’re tired and he wants to treat you extra nice :)

Fast-forward a bit, you’re dancing on the floor with some vode, and a dirty song comes on. You start grinding on Kix, just for fun, but Fives lowkey gets jealous and cuts in. The guys are egging you on at this point and you’ve had just enough alcohol to go a bit wild without being embarrassed, so you hop up into Fives’ arms and he holds you up by the backs of your thighs while you grind against him.

You’re both having a blast, hamming it up, laughing, and then the song ends, and you slide down off him, but he doesn’t let you go, he just keeps you hugged to his chest and then he growls in your ear, “I don’t want you dancing like that with anyone else.”

You get really turned on at that, and decide to tease him, saying, “Oh, yeah? You just wanna keep me all to yourself, huh?”

And then he just squeezes you against him and says, “Damn right I do,” and you’re like. HOLDDDDD UP

So you get bold, and say, “You want to go back to my place and show me why I should listen to you?”

And you swear you actually hear Fives groan at that, and he’s just like, “Lead the way,” and on the way back to your apartment he keeps his hand around your waist, pulling you snug against his side, his thumb tracing soft circles on your ribcage and making your skin feel like it’s on fire. Infuriatingly, he doesn’t even kiss you on the taxi ride home, but he’s constantly touching you - hand on your waist, on your thigh, nose against your temple, hand in your hair, and it’s such a turn-on.

You and Fives talk easily as you enter your apartment complex and make your way up to your rooms, but you can feel an undercurrent of tension rolling off him, and between that and his constant touches, you’re ready to jump his bones by the time you open your front door. 

Suddenly Fives is pulling you in for a bruising kiss, backing you against the wall before the door has even finished closing. Your lips open pliantly against his, and a thrill goes through you as your back hits the wall, Fives’ hard chest pressing against you and pinning you there. His hands come up and cup your jaw as he kisses you passionately, thumbing small circles on your cheekbones, and you groan, wanting him closer. You wrap your fingers in his dark curls and tug his face down, making a desperate sound in the back of your throat at the feel of his soft lips, his goatee and stubble scraping deliciously at your face. He slots one of his legs between yours, his thigh armor pressing into you at just the right spot, and you gasp at the contact.

Fives breaks away from you at the sound and chuckles low in his chest. “God, I’ve been thinking about you for weeks,” he growls as he kisses and sucks at your neck. “Can’t get you out of my head.” You groan and rut against his thigh involuntarily, the combination of the pressure and his touch making your pussy throb. 

“You’re - ah - not the only one,” you gasp out.

“That feel good to you, huh?” he murmurs against your skin, lifting you up on his thigh so your feet barely touch the floor.

“Fives,” you moan, clutching at his blacks, rolling your hips more frantically against his armor. There are entirely too many layers of clothing between you, and you need them off.

He holds you against the wall, silencing you with a deep kiss. After a long moment he lowers his leg and you slide down off his thigh, your feet meeting the floor again. Your knees felt a bit weak, and you lean into his muscled chest for balance. 

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, cyar’ika, you’ll forget the names of everyone else you’ve ever been with,” Fives breathes against your lips, kissing you softly before setting you upright. 

You shiver at his words and take his hand, leading him into your bedroom. As soon as the door shuts behind you, you’re on him, tugging at the hem of his blacks top. He chuckles and pulls it over his head, discarding it on the floor. “Someone’s a little impatient,” he laughs, drawing you into his arms and kissing your neck. 

“Only because I’m waiting for you to make good on your word,” you sass. Fives’ eyes widen at that and then he’s reaching for your clothes, shucking your jacket off your shoulders and helping you pull your shirt over your head. Underneath, you’re just wearing a black lounge bralette, since you’d gone straight from work to 79’s, but Fives’ eyes light up like you’re wearing the sexiest lingerie he’s ever seen. His hands stroke agonizingly slowly up your sides, making you shiver with desire, and he stills, his fingers under the edge of your bralette. 

“This okay?” he confirms, looking down at you with heated eyes.

“Yes,” you breathe, nodding eagerly, and he helps you slide the bralette up and over your head, tossing it aside. His gaze is reverent as he drinks you in; he cups your breasts in his hands and thumbs slow circles over your sensitive nipples. You gasp, feeling them harden at his touch, and lean into his hands. 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he groans, massaging and teasing your breasts. A little moan slips out of your mouth and you press against him, feeling the bare skin of his stomach hot against yours. You grind your hips against his codpiece and hear him hiss. “Alright, time to get out of this armor,” he mutters. Reluctantly, he takes his hands off you and sheds his lower body armor, till he’s standing in just his lower blacks. You reach for his waistband but he catches your wrists and makes a tssk noise, guiding you backwards until you fall onto your bed. “Not yet,” he says, shaking his head. “Wanna taste you first.”

Fire licks low in your stomach at his words, and you fumble with your belt, undoing it and sliding off your pants and underwear with his help. Once you’re fully bared before him, Fives shoulders your legs apart and settles himself between them, kissing a slow trail up one of your inner thighs, making you pant. “Fives, please,” you whine, twitching as you feel the hair on the top of his head brush against your already-slick cunt.

He raises his head and meets your eyes, smirking, tracing circles on your thighs with his thumbs. “Please, what?”

You grit your teeth. “I need you to - ah!” You cry out as he slides a finger into you without warning, parting your slick folds.

“Fuck, cyar’ika, you’re soaked, aren’t you?” He murmurs sympathetically, drawing his finger out of you so slowly it makes you tremble. “What do you need? You need my tongue?” He kisses and sucks at your inner thigh, swirling his tongue against your skin, and you whimper.

“Yes, please, Fives, god -” you babble, aware that you’re begging and that he’s enjoying every moment of it.

Fives hums against your skin. “Well, since you asked so nicely, princess,” he murmurs, and then his mouth is on your cunt and you cry out, clenching the bedsheets in your fists as he dips his tongue into your wet pussy. 

He’s good at this, is your only coherent thought, as his tongue swirls inside you, his hands gripping your thighs and forcing them apart. As he eats you out, you can feel your pleasure building and you writhe against his face, his stubble providing just the right amount of friction as he alternately flicks his tongue into you and plays with your clit. “Fives, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come -” you cry, and he just hums against your cunt, sliding two fingers inside you and spreading you open as he continues to swirl his tongue inside your slick walls. And then he sucks on your clit and you come, crying out, seeing stars and arching your back off the bed. He holds you against his face with one hand on your thigh, the other still buried inside you, keeping his mouth on your cunt as you ride his face through the waves of your climax. 

Only when you’ve calmed down and collapsed into the mattress, breathing shakily, does Fives raise his head from your pussy and slide up your body to prop himself over you, his muscular brown arms bracketing your head. You can see your arousal glistening on his lips and facial hair, and he makes no effort to wipe it away before he kisses you deeply. You taste yourself on his lips; he’s wearing your climax like a badge of honor, like he would have happily stayed down there forever if you’d let him, and it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. 

“You feel better now, baby girl?” Fives rumbles, pulling back a bit and stroking your hair with one hand.

You gaze up at him, still feeling weak-kneed, but wanting more. “Want you inside me,” you mumble, turning your face into his shoulder and kissing the scar you find there. You drag your nails down his abs and feel his stomach muscles jump. Fives exhales unsteadily, his grip tightening on your hair. 

“Hoped you’d say that,” he murmurs, and rolls off you, getting to his feet and practically ripping off the pants of his blacks. His cock is erect, the tip glistening with precum, and your pussy throbs at the mere thought of him inside you. Fives crawls back on top of you, kneeling in front of you and grabbing your legs, tugging you towards him and forcing your thighs further apart. He slides his cock into you, just the tip, and you groan in protest as he slides it out again and repeats the motion, teasing you with just the head of his cock. 

“Fives,” you plead, bucking your hips, trying to take him further into you, aching with desire for him. “Please, just - I need you,” you whimper.

“Shit, cyar’ika, okay,” he laughs, a little breathlessly. And he lifts your hips fully off the bed, sliding his cock deep inside you at last, easing into you slow and steady. You cry out and arch your back as he fills you, feeling your slick walls stretch around him. He gives you a moment to adjust to the feel of him, and then he starts to move, holding your legs up and folding you almost in half as he pounds into you with his hard cock. It feels so good you find yourself moaning with every roll of his hips, and that seems to spur him on, the pace of his thrusts increasing. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he praises, as you cry out long and loud after he thrusts into you particularly hard. “Let me hear you.” 

You moan again, rolling your hips and meeting him halfway as he fucks you into the mattress, arching your back to deepen the angle of his cock inside you. “Fives, fuck, yes, please don’t stop,” you beg. He swears and releases one of your legs, bending over you and resting on his elbow, kissing you long and deep as he continues to thrust into you. 

As he pulls back and breaks the kiss, he tugs on your hair and forces your head to the side so you’re staring into the big, framed mirror on your bedroom wall. “Don’t look away,” Fives whispers in your ear, panting slightly from the force of his thrusts. “Keep your eyes on that mirror. Watch what I do to you, cyar’ika, watch how I make you feel.”

You moan and whimper, whispering incoherently as he holds you there, unable to do anything except watch in the mirror as he fucks you senseless, skin slapping on skin, your pussy quivering around his hard cock. You watch as his other hand leaves your thigh to reach between you both, his thumb rubbing expertly on your clit. “Yes, oh, god, fuck,” you pant, nearly crying at how good it feels to have him touch you there while his cock is moving inside you. But after a moment or two he takes his hand away, and you whine, bucking against him, desperate for him to touch you again. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart, I’ll take care of you,” Fives soothes, kissing your neck, his facial hair scratching delightfully at the tender skin. “First, though,” he pants, “Tell me how I’m making you feel. Has any man fucked you this good before?” 

As if to illustrate his point, he rolls his hips hard, looking over at the mirror so you can watch together as your mouth falls open and you let out a long moan. “Have they?” he demands, thrusting into you slow and deep.

“No,” you sob, in tears from how good it feels and how good he looks in the mirror, his muscles rippling above you as he fucks you. 

“You want anyone else to fuck you, cyar’ika?” He presses, his free hand cupping your breast, thumbing your hard nipple.

“No, Fives,” you cry out, arching your back to take his cock into you further. “Only - you -”

“That’s right,” he growls, sliding his big hand from your breast back down to your clit. “Just me.” He releases your hair and you turn your head and look up at him just as he says, so gentle, “Okay, sweetheart, you can cum now.” He presses his thumb on your clit just right, and suddenly you’re coming harder than you ever have in your life, screaming and arching up into his hand, your slick walls twitching and pulsing around his hard cock as he continues to thrust into you. 

“Fuck, yeah, that’s it, cyar’ika, let me hear you,” Fives pants, his eyes dark pools of desire as he gazes down at you, kissing your face and neck and breasts as you shudder and writhe beneath him. “God, you’re so pretty like this, falling apart on my cock.” 

You feel warm all over at his praise, boneless and relaxed from your orgasm, and you cup his face with both hands, pulling him down for a kiss as he continues to rock into you. “You feel so good inside me, Fives,” you whisper when you break the kiss. His eyes flutter at your words, long lashes brushing his cheek, and he turns his head to kiss your palm. You clutch at his strong arms and hook your knees around the back of his thighs as he ruts into you faster. His thrusts grow more erratic and forceful and you can tell he’s about to cum - and then he’s swearing and bucking his hips into yours, burying his cock deep inside your pussy. He kisses your cheek to muffle his cries as he comes inside you, and you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and hold him as he tenses and shudders, riding out his release. 

After a long moment you feel him relax, and he pulls back just enough to gaze down into your eyes, breathing heavily. You smile at him and bring a hand up to stroke his face, fingers brushing over the tattoo at his temple. “You definitely convinced me,” you say fondly.

Fives tips his head to one side, looking dazed from his orgasm. “I did?”

“Yeah,” you giggle. “I won’t be dancing with anyone but you from now on.” You give him a meaningful look.

He lets out a breathless laugh and leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Good girl.”

#arc trooper fives x reader #arc trooper fives #18+ #fives x reader #fives x you #clone x reader #clone trooper x reader #star wars self insert #star wars smut #ct-5555 #star wars fanfic #clone wars fic #clone wars imagine #my fic

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: Pepsi Raspberry

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Ship: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x Reader/you

Warnings: There's a fight and Reader's ex left her with some issues, but nothing super traumatic. Frankie is super cute (and a little needy). I just threw this together on a slow day at work, apologies in advance for errors.

Summary: You fight with Frankie. That's it that's the plot.

A/N: This was honestly supposed to be a piece about feminism and female independence in a relationship but I can't be trusted around Frankie, he totally bippity-boppity-booped me into forgivance. Dickhead. Also I struggled for two and a half hours with the title and that's why it's shit. I hate titles.

Words: 2,416

A loud noise wakes you up, your heart missing a beat. For a moment, you're completely still in bed, scared out of your mind. That was definitely the sound of the front door opening and closing, and someone crashing into a chair. You're as stiff as a board, your first thought being that this is it, this is how you'll die, by the hand of a home invader who's probably going to assault you first and then kill you, or maybe kidnap you and do god knows what to you…

You hear cursing and as you recognize the voice you also realize that if someone wanted to break in, they'd probably at least try to be stealthy about it.

"Frankie?" You mean for it to be a call but it's just a breathless whimper. You wet your lips, finding your mouth too dry.

Heavy, staggering footsteps bring the unknown visitor to the bedroom door and you reach out to turn on your bedside lamp. Blinking blearily towards the soft light is indeed Frankie, a sheepish smile on his face.

"The hell are you doing?" Your fright-induced stiffness leaving your body, you sit up in bed and glare at your boyfriend who was supposed to sleep at his own place tonight after his night out with the boys. His eyes are unfocused and his face shiny, and it's clearly been a good night. You glance at the nightstand, where the red light diodes of the clock tell you that the time is barely three am.

“Sorry, baby. Did I wake ya? There was… there was a chair in the entry. Did you move a chair? There never was a chair there before. Stubbed my toe.”

He limps over to the bed, trying to look as sober as possible while unbuttoning his shirt – “trying” being the operative word, as he’s clearly lost control of his fine motoric skills. He ends up pulling the flannel over his head, but it gets stuck, and he topples over his side of the bed. You draw back a little, wrinkling your nose. He smells of stale beer and cigarettes and moreover: he was supposed to go home. You had both agreed that you'd spend Saturday night apart for once, him catching up with his friends, you with yours, and he'd go home where he could spend Sunday nursing his hangover while you got some cleaning done in your apartment.

“What you are doing here?” you demand again, anger replacing fear. “Can I send you to the shower or will you drown?”

“I’m not a good swimmer,” Frankie acknowledges ruefully as he clumsily rolls over in bed and attempts the next step of getting undressed: undoing his fly and getting his tight jeans off. “Here, baby, gimme a hand, you’re so good at this…” “You deal with it yourself,” you say sternly, in no mood to help. The whole idea of spending one night apart was to get a good night’s sleep – something you rarely get in the same bed as Frankie as both of you are usually too voracious for each other to think about sleep – and for you not to have to worry about a hung-over boyfriend the following morning. On top of that, you’re furious with him for scaring the shit out of you by stumbling in at three in the morning. You almost regret giving him a key but then again: if he didn’t have one it could have been even worse, he could have gone full on Stanley Kowalski outside your window.

“Ah, baby, c’mon… Don’t be like that. Help an old man out.”

Frankie tilts his head up and looks at you with imploring eyes, upside down from you. Half of him is hanging outside the bed and the rest is slipping off, and he looks like he might fall asleep any second. You might as well help him before he goes limp and ends up on the floor.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter and crawl over to his side of the bed before climbing out. As you bend over to pick up his legs and lift them onto the mattress, Frankie manages to slap your ass.

“Baby. Hey, baby. Let’s have sex.”

“Not gonna happen.”

You unzip his jeans and yank them down carelessly, pulling Frankie down the bed in the process.

“Whoa, wild thing,” he murmurs thickly, his eyes falling shut. “Careful of the joystick, you don’ wanna damage that or you won’ be able to fly anymore…”

You don’t bother with an answer, he’s not going to remember it anyway. You help him off with the t-shirt as well and when you’re about to tuck him in, he grabs you by your wrist with a move much quicker than you had thought him capable of in his state. He pulls you down over him, the other hand squeezing your ass.

“Sex,” he mumbles. “Love you, baby, and I wanna be in you fo’eva.”

You try to avoid the smelly, wet kisses that he keeps pressing to your neck and shoulder. While you can appreciate him being horny for you in any situation, you’re still mad about him being here at all.

“You need sleep and I want it,” you tell him as you squirm out of his hold. Returning to your side of bed, you ignore the puppy eyes look he gives you as you turn off the lights.

“Not sleepy,” Frankie protests weakly before he’s out cold. He starts to snore loudly and you sigh in exasperation.

You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.

You barely sleep for the remainder of the night and when you finally give up and get out of bed, you're in a pissy mood. Not even two cups of coffee and the fancy bread rolls you bought at the bakery yesterday to treat yourself this Sunday morning make you feel better. You down a painkiller to combat the beginnings of the headache you feel creeping up on you before starting on your chore list. The clearing of the closets in the hall is the first task and you get to it, trying to find some satisfaction in the fact that you're getting your things in order.

As the hours pass by, you do your best to work around the tasks on your list that would generate noise, such as vacuuming. You may be pissed at Frankie but you're decent enough to let him sleep for a little while longer. However, you finally face the fact that if you're to get everything done in time for you to actually enjoy the rest of your day off and open that novel you've been dying to read, you're going to have to start the vacuum cleaer. If Frankie wanted to sleep until three pm he should have gone home.

When you turn off the vacuum cleaner, you hear Frankie groan in the bedroom.

“Babe?”

You're not really in the mood to talk to him but you go check on him, just in case he needs help to get to the bathroom. Nursing his hangover is the last thing you want to do today but you also don't want to clean up vomit.

He looks like a wreck with his hair standing out in every direction where it's not plastered to his skull, puffy eyes, and pale face.

“Morning.” Your tone is short but he doesn't seem to notice. He grunts and rubs his forehead with one hand, the other reaching out of bed towards you.

“C'mere. I wanna cuddle.”

“You smell,” you shake your head. “Get up already, I want to change the sheets.”

He groans again and retracts his arm, draping it over his forehead.

“One more minute. Or hour. It's so early and my head is killing me.”

“Not my problem, Frankie.”

Frowning, he looks at you, clearly bothered by the sunlight washing the room in light. You don't offer any explanations.

“Is there coffee?” he asks eventually.

“No.”

“Can you make some?”

“Make it yourself.”

He blinks at you, surprised.

“What's wrong, baby?”

You go to the other side of the bed, grab the pillow and start to take off the pillowcase.

“Just get out of bed. I have shit to do.”

Frankie sits up slowly, his head clearly bothering him when he moves from a horizontal recline to a vertical seat. He takes a moment, eyes closed and hand on his bare, soft stomach, before looking up at you.

“What's up with you?”

There's a hint of accusation in his voice and that does it for you. You slam down the pillow onto the bed and cross your arms in front of your chest as you glare at him.

“You scared the shit out of me last night, Frankie! I thought I was being burglared!”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,” he mumbles, his apology meaning nothing to you because you can clearly see that he doesn't understand the terror you felt last night.

“We agreed that we'd spend the night apart, what the hell did you come here for and ruin my sleep and my morning?” you demand, raising your voice a little despite yourself. Frankie hates yelling. “Did you think I'd take care of you, tip-toe around you all day, serve you coffee in bed and junk food on the couch while you get to feel sorry for drinking too much?”

“What, no, what are you – “ Frankie seems utterly confused, the state of him most likely partly to blame. “Can you please keep your voice down?”

You pull at the duvet, stuck partly underneath him. “Move.”

“Jesus...” he mutters as he slowly gets out of bed. He stands still for a moment as if to recalibrate as he adjusts his boxers, before sluggishly dragging himself to the bathroom. You strip the bed and as soon as Frankie's out of the bathroom and heading into the kitchen, you take the sheets to the washing-machine and start it. And just because you're feeling like a bitch, you throw Frankie's clothes out of the bedroom, letting them land on the floor, before vacuuming.

When you're stowing away the vacuum cleaner into the cleaning closet, Frankie confronts you. He's now dressed but that doesn't help his half-dead appearance.

“Why are you being like this?” He's still struggling to understand you. It's typical Frankie: he always tries to talk about things, bring clarity into every issue.

“Like what? What am I like?"” You're being a brat, you know, but you have no desire to be an adult right now. Frankie really doesn't seem to understand: the frown seems permanently etched into his face and he looks so different from his usual soft, easy-going self.

“Mean. You're being mean!” The last word comes out harshly and you can tell Frankie's losing his customary cool.

“So when I have plans to spend a day apart from you and be my own person, I'm being mean?” you spit. He looks at you like you're suddenly speaking in a foreign language.

“What are you even talking about?” The exasperation is plain to see, and it somehow makes you even angrier.

“This isn't your mama's bed and breakfast that you can just check into whenever you feel like it, Frankie!”

“Fuck,” he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can't deal with this right now.” He pulls out his phone. “I'm getting an Uber.”

“Good!” you quip. “Fuck off home, like you should've done at three in the fucking morning!”

Without waiting for a reply, you stomp into the bedroom and slam the door. A few seconds later, you hear the front door slam as well.

[+++]

Sorry I showed up unannounced in the middle of the night. I just missed you. Didn’t want to go home and sleep without you. Call me, okay? I Love you.

You stare at the text message and feel bad, no, not bad: really fucking awful. It took you a few hours to calm down; hours that you spent playing angry music while finishing your list of chores. Afterwards, you didn’t feel that satisfying sense of accomplishment you usually experience after a good cleaning. Your head still hurt, so you went to your newly made bed which smelled fresh and nice even with the spread on top. You slept until late afternoon and woke up by the beep signaling the text.

You’re conflicted. The fact that he missed you is so sweet but there’s something about the statement that annoys you. He’s a grown-ass man, for chrissakes, and he should be able to be without his girlfriend for one single fucking night. And then guilting you into calling him with I-love-you’s and his fragile feelings? Fuck that noise.

And still. You know what Frankie’s like: physical, devoted, kind. He’s not like anyone you’ve ever been with. Not like your last boyfriend, who would pull shit like this all the time: show up at your place at all hours of the day (or night) whenever he wanted something from you. Sex. Comfort. Sympathy. Who would text and call you all the time when you were out with friends because he couldn’t find his way to the fridge without your help.

Reluctantly, you hit the speed dial button to Frankie, and he picks up almost immediately, saying your name with barely contained urgency.

“Hi,” you say quietly.

“Hi. You okay?” Such a Frankie thing to do, make sure you’re okay after a fight where, technically, he’s the injured party.

“Not really. You?”

“I’ve had worse.”

“You mean the hangover or this morning?”

You hear the smile in his voice. “Both, but I meant the hangover.”

You exhale in an amused little sniff.

“I’m sorry, Frankie. Do you… wanna come over?”

“I’d love to. Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“Neither have I. I’ll pick something up. Burgers from that place you like?”

Your stomach rumbles at the mention of burgers but you’re more concerned with the sudden tears that rise in your eyes. Oh, Frankie.

“That would be great,” you manage, wiping at your eyes. Get a fucking grip!

“Parmesan fries?” he queries, but all he gets from you is a sob. “Baby?”

“I love you,” you sniffle. “You’re the best.”

“Aww, babe. I love you, too.”

You draw a deep breath to calm down, a little embarrassed at your emotional outburst. It’s not like you, but it’s been a weird day.

“You still there?” he asks.

“Sure.”

“Pepsi Raspberry for you?”

You start crying.

#my fic #francisco catfish morales #francisco frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader

[youngbeezer]

hi!! can I please request something?

going to a lake house, maybe friends to lovers with bowen byram?

thank you! 💗.

A/N: HI IM SO SORRY THIS LITERALLY TOOK 4 EVER!!! i was having such bad writer's block with also zero motivation, but i eventually put a little something together and i hope whoever requested this first off actually sees this bc seriously its been a good month of this sitting in my inbox but also i hope you like it :)

Word Count: 2940

Warning(s): kinda angsty in beginning, curse words, ends fluffy !!!

masterlist || join my taglist

These next few days is either going to turn out to be the best week of the summer, or the most awkward week of the summer...

I’m currently stuck in a car surrounded by couples on our way to a lake house in Colorado. Somehow I ended up being lumped into this chaotic group of professional hockey players and their drop-dead gorgeous significant others.

About a year ago at my local salon, I just so happened to be seated right next to a woman named Grace, who I immediately hit it off with. We became fast friends and are now basically inseparable at this point. Her boyfriend just so happens to play hockey for the Colorado Avalanche, Cale Makar. Now I have also grown quite close with Cale as well, since I am always at their shared apartment for Grace. At this point Cale is basically third wheeling us, instead of it being the other way around. Therefore I was also always invited to team parties and get-togethers, which prompted more friendships with most of the guys on the team and their respective partners.

Someone I have surprisingly grown super close with is Bowen Byram. As soon as Cale introduced us two, his blue eyes and raspy voice immediately drew me in. Straight away we bonded over common interests and that night we talked for almost three hours. After that, we were thick as thieves. So thick that recently I have come to the realization that I have caught major feelings for him along the way.

It has only been a few weeks since I have come to this realization and it has already started to affect our relationship. I definitely started to ignore Bowen a little bit when I first figured out my feelings because I was scared he would somehow find out or I would just end up blurting it out at some point. And the last thing I want is for my silly feelings to ruin such a great friendship.

Thus why this week can either turn out to be the best or the worst.

I’ve decided that at some point during this trip I need to confess my feelings for Bowen. He’s also seemed to notice the shift in my attitude towards him. I have become more closed off and not as touchy as we used to be. Bowen and I are both very touchy/feely types of people. So what seemed like just some harmless cuddling and play wrestling with each other, to me did very little to quell down my feelings.

For example, this morning when we were packing up the cars for the trip a group of us are taking to Tyson Jost’s lakehouse, Bowen went to wrap his arms around my middle from the back and I subconsciously flinched away at his touch. I know he definitely noticed my mood shift from the defiant pout that was resting on his face. After that I did what I do best, and ran away to the other car that was driving up and basically begged Nate to switch seats with me.

Which now leads to my current thoughts. The entire car ride up I have been contemplating on ways I could tell him, but each scenario just ended up with him telling me that he doesn’t feel the same, and our friendship essentially being over. Obviously I was just overthinking just a little, but I’ve never been stuck in a situation like this before-- and now we are going to be stuck in a lake house together for an entire week, so I am going to be forced to face this situation whether I want to or not.

“Yo. Earth to y/n?” Tyson draws, trying to gain my attention. I snap out of my thoughts as soon as I hear my name, and bring my gaze to the rearview mirror to meet Tyson’s questioning look. “We’re here.” He announces.

Susanna, Mikko’s girlfriend, adds on, “You alright? You seemed kind of out of it the entire car ride.”

I shake my head to try and clear my thoughts and notice that we are indeed here at the lake house we will be staying at for the next week. I clear my dried up throat before croaking out a weak, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just don’t like long car rides.”

Both of them nod, content with my answer and exit the car to join Mikko in unloading all of the luggage from the trunk. I take a few more moments to fully get my head together after dealing with all my jumbled thoughts throughout the entire three hour car ride.

Jumping out of the car, the first thing I see is Bowen letting out a yawn and stretching out. As his arms raise over his head, some of his shirt rises up with it and immediately my eyes are drawn to the small portion of skin and v-line that is in front of me. Bowen then notices my presence and makes eye contact with me, giving me one of his adorable little smiles. I advert my gaze as quickly as I can so my obvious ogling isn’t as obvious and go to finally retrieve my luggage.

Yeah this was gonna be a long week.

…

After everyone got pretty much all settled into their rooms, we all ended up coming back together to sit around the firepit to chat and enjoy some drinks. For this trip that Tyson orchestrated there are in total ten people staying in the house. Me, Tyson, obviously since it’s his house; Bowen, Cale, Grace, Alex Newhook, Mikko and his girlfriend Susanna, and lastly Nate and his supposed new girl who will be joining us later on in the week.

Apparently a group of the guys and their partners have been taking trips together at the end of the hockey season for a while now, and since growing closer with the team this year, I graciously got an invite.

Since it was getting later and a little bit more chilly, I grabbed a random sweatshirt that I saw already laying around in the living room before making my way outside to join everyone by the firepit. Getting closer I noticed that the only seat available just so happened to be next to Bowen.

Cale and Grace give each other a not so inconspicuous knowing look when they see me approaching. As soon as I sit down, a question is being thrown at me.

“Whose sweatshirt is that y/n?” Cale brings everyone's attention to me with a growing smirk on his face.

“I don’t know, I just found it in the living room.” I give Cale a questioning glare, trying to figure what his endgame is right now.

“It’s mine.” I hear that same raspy voice that I love and know so well. I feel my face start heating up at the idea of wearing Bowen’s sweatshirt. Am I wearing his name on my back right now, and I just didn’t even think to check earlier?

“Oh, uh. Sorry, I can give it back to you, if you want it.” I stumble out, now feeling awkward and a little embarrassed about how flustered I am getting over a simple sweatshirt.

Bowen gives me a little smile before replying back, “Nah, it’s fine. It looks better on you anyway.”

I clear my throat and stumble out an awkward ‘thanks’ at Bowen and then turn my attention to Grace right next to me so I don’t embarrass myself even more. What I don’t see though is the way Bowen's face immediately falls when I turn my back on him.

…

Around midnight is when everyone started to make their way back inside the house to start getting ready for bed. I was mindlessly scrolling through my social media, so I didn’t notice that mostly everyone had already gone inside.

“Y/n.” I look up at the mention of my name to notice that Bowen and I are the only ones left outside.

Also noticing the intense gaze I am receiving from Bowen, I quickly gather my things and stumble out, “Oh my gosh I didn’t notice everyone left already. I should head inside as well.”

Bowen is quicker though because he grabs ahold of my wrist, halting me in place before I make my very obvious escape.

“Hold on, please. Can you please talk to me?” Bowen pleads out.

“What do you mean? We’ve been talking all night.” I countered, trying one last time to get out of this conversation.

“We’ve been talking as a group all night yeah, but you couldn’t even make eye contact with me. You know what I mean. What’s been going on? Did I do something?” Bowen frowned.

At that moment I felt so guilty. I’ve been so focused on trying to ignore my feelings that I have developed that I ended up pushing my best friend away and hurting him in the process. I close my eyes and let out a deep breath. I knew I would eventually have to have this talk with Bowen during this week, but I just didn’t expect it to be on the very first night.

“Okay. Yeah, let’s talk.”

I lead the way down to the dock overlooking the lake and sit down to dangle my feet into the water. I know for a fact that Grace and Cale realized that we both haven’t come in behind them, so they are most likely snooping by the backdoor wondering what we are doing.

Bowen joins me, after slipping his shoes off and dangling his feet in as well.

“What’s been going on y/n?” Bowen asks again.

“I-I think I’m in love with you.” I blurt out. I can feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears as I await any type of response from Bowen. Taking a peek over at him, I see the pure shock on his face. Probably wasn’t the best idea to start off the conversation with that.

Taking his silence as a bad sign, I start spewing out whatever I can to try and calm the anxiety coursing through my veins. “I-I think I have known for a while and I just tried to ignore it, I guess. But then I realized that I was just pushing you away, an-and I never wanted to do that. Our friendship means that absolute world to me, and I would hate myself if anything I did, or-or my stupid feelings jeaporized that.” At some point during my little rant, a few tears escaped. I turn my head away as I try to hold back on a full on sob breaking loose.

“You think?” He eventually breaks the silence.

Confusedly, I turned my head back around and let out a strangled, “Huh?” I see the corners of Bowen’s mouth start curving up into a tiny smile, confusing me even more.

“You said, you think you’re in love with me.” He pointed out.

My eyebrows raise in question and I give him a little shrug, prompting him to elaborate more.

“Well… I’m pretty damn sure I’m in love with you.” Bowen softly declared.

My breath catches in my throat and my mouth turns as dry as the Sahara Desert. Those were definitely not the words I was expecting to come out of his mouth. He chuckles at my surprised face and scooches a little closer to my body to wipe a stray tear on my cheek.

“Are you serious?” I whisper out.

“Of course.” He whispered just as softly back to me as his head inched closer to mine.

My heart pounds in my chest as Bowen’s hand comes up to cradle my cheek. All of our pent up feelings and emotions that we both have been too afraid to admit all come crashing together as our lips finally meet. He kissed me gently, almost carefully, but after all this time gentleness was not what I wanted right now. Bowen let out a low groan as I pulled him flush against my body, my fists bunching up the collar of his shirt.

Before this could go any further, we both pull away breathlessly, basking in what truly just happened-- just now realizing how much our relationship is about to change.

“Fuck.” Bowen breathed out, running his hands over his face. “If I knew that was what it was like to kiss you I would’ve blurted out my feelings the day I met you.”

My ears perk up at his last few words and it seems like he also realizes what he just admitted, as his cheeks immediately turn a rosy color.

“You’ve liked me for that long?” I bashfully question.

Bowen runs his fingers through his hair and blows out a breath of air before answering, “Yeah, I-I mean… yeah I have.” He stumbles out, awkwardly letting out a laugh.

I lean my head on his shoulder and connect our hands, feeling super content and never wanting this moment to end. We take a moment to just sit on the dock-- with our feet hanging in the water, hands intertwined; and bask in the feeling of finally letting our feelings out into the open.

“You know everyone in that house is going to have a field day when they find out.” Bowen mumbles against my shoulder, before leaving a lingering kiss on the exposed skin.

“Oh I wouldn’t be surprised if they all had a bet going or something.” I chimed. I raise my head that had previously been resting on Bowen’s shoulder back up to look at him, and see that he is already smiling at me. “What?” I drawled, feeling my cheeks heating up under his gaze.

“You wanna sleep in my bed tonight?” He asked hesitantly.

My cheeks now feel on fire as I ponder on how I want to go about this. I raise my eyebrows up at him in question as I ponder out, “Do you want me in your bed tonight?”

Bowen gives me an almost incredulous look as he voiced, “Of course I want you in my bed.”

I just give him a simple nod and push my body up in a standing position, reaching out my hand to prompt Bowen to join me. “Okay, let’s go.”

Bowen immediately shoots up from his sitting position, clinging onto my hand as we make our way back up the yard to the sliding glass doors of the lake house. Just as I predicted earlier, Cale and Grace were totally snooping. Actually, the entire house was snooping. Everyone was gathered in the kitchen trying to act casual as we walked in, but as soon as they noticed our conjoined hands, all hell broke loose.

“I fucking knew it!”

“Aw you guys look so cute.”

“Bout time.”

“Ha! Nate, you owe me fifty bucks.”

I looked over at Bowen with an unimpressed look, “Told you they probably had a bet going on.” Meanwhile Bowen has an incredulous look coating his face watching his friends freak out over his newfound relationship. Instead of questioning our oddball friends, Bowen just simply shakes his head, letting out a little chuckle.

“Alright I’m heading up, I can’t deal with these idiots right now.” Bowen gives me a quick peck on the lips before announcing his departure for the night. Most of the others also start making their way up to their respective rooms for bed, the guys putting on a show of making kissy noises and making a few chirps as they follow Bowen up the stairs.

Grace joins me by the counter, making a show of wiggling her eyebrows at me. I’m smiling like an idiot as Cale also joins us, chuckling at my lovesick expression.

“You’re welcome.” Cale smirked.

I scrunch my face up in confusion as I question him back, “For what?”

“For introducing you two, duh.” Cale teased. Grace smacks him on the arm with a tut, making a show of rolling her eyes at her boyfriend. “Alright, seriously I am happy for you guys though.” He eventually relents.

My cheeks heat up from the attention but also from the thought of Bowen and I’s new relationship. Grace grabs me by the shoulders and starts pushing me in the direction of the staircase.

“Obviously I’m happy for you too. All I’ve wanted is the best for you and I think Bowen is just that. And with that being said, go get your mans!” She sends me off with a quick smack on my ass. I giggle the whole way up the stairs on the way into Bowen’s [now our] room feeling extremely giddy and content.

When I enter the room, all the lights except for the bathroom are already off, and it looks like Bowen is already settled into bed. So, I quickly do my night time routine and change into my pajamas before making my way over to the bed I will now be sharing for the week.

Bowen is awaiting me with his arms wide open, which I happily cuddle into the second I am under the covers. He buries his head into my neck, leaving featherlight kisses here and there.

“I love you.” Bowen mumbles into my neck. I card my fingers through his hair and kiss the top of his head as I mumble back those same words, in complete awe over how fast my life has changed in one night. We both knew that we would eventually be together, it just took a little time and a trip to Tyson Jost’s lakehouse for us to figure it out. This week will definitely be one for the books.

Taglist: @barzysandmarnersbitch @handwrittenheroes @hockeyplayerstories @barzy-xoxo @gnemgn @joelsfarabees

Tagging some mutuals as well so this doesnt flop,,,

@2manytabsopen @bb-nhlqueen7 @frederikanderson @simon-edvinsson @coltonndach @carepriceisgoodathockey @lovereadinghockeyy @pettypeteys @kentjohnsons @joekellys @mattybenierss

#bowen byram #nhl imagine #colorado avalanche #hockey imagine #nhl fic #friends to lovers #hockey fic #nhl fanfiction #bowen byram imagine #bowen byram x reader #nhl angst #nhl fluff #hockey fanfiction #avs #requested #cale makar #tyson jost #nathan mackinnon #alex newhook #mikko rantanen #my writing #hope you liked it :)