#any block that interacts with the fics that i have the /before you read/ link on and doesn't respect my blog rules

[lino-nyangi]

#do not underestimate the cat's wrath #any block that interacts with the fics that i have the /before you read/ link on and doesn't respect my blog rules #will be immediately blocked #it's literally there #you have no excuse now you can't tell me you didn't know #there's literally nothing more i can do as a writer #it's not even my job to do this #please take a minute of your time to be decent to writers #it's free

[romana-after-dark]

Dead Dove December

Hello everyone! This December I’m hosting an event for the Oscar Isaac and Pedro Pascal fandom that I’m calling, Dead Dove December! From 12/01/2023 - 12/31/2023 I’m encouraging others to create something that expresses their deepest and (most importantly) darkest desires. I will be reblogging all pieces of art or fanfiction, and will post a masterlist in January. 

Details below the cut…

What is Dead Dove Do Not Eat?

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, or DDDNE has its origins in one of my comfort shows!

The phrase comes from a meme referencing the 2003 Arrested Development episode "Top Banana", in which Michael Bluth opens a paper bag labeled "DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT" and, upon discovering that there is a dead dove inside the bag, says, deadpan, "I don't know what I expected." - fanlore.org

In short, what you see in the tags is what you should expect to see in the fic. This can apply for any type of fic, including the fluffy ones, but it’s usually associated with darker themes. That being said, this is your warning that this is a DARK THEMED EVENT. If you aren’t comfortable with darker topics like non-con, excessive violence, blood/gore, death, toxic relationships, 18+ age gaps, and more, then I encourage you not to participate in this event.

How to Participate

For the month of December, post your Dead Dove fanfiction or fan art on your blog. Use the tag #deaddovedecemeber2023 and tag me. You can also send a link via ask or DM if you like! I will not be posting anything for you, just reblogging and linking. At the end of December I will post a masterlist with links to everyone’s works! Side Note - Since Tumblr doesn’t really allow for NSFW art, you can post your work on Twitter or any other site that allows it and just send me that link so I can add it to the masterlist.

Rules

You MUST be 18+ to participate. I will be checking your blog/social media to be sure. Please make sure your age is easy to find. If I find that you’re a minor or if your age isn’t readily present I will be blocking you and you will be unable to participate. You can just add that you are over 18 if you don’t want your age out on the internet. As the creator and promotor of this event, I need to know I’m not interacting with minors given the nature of this event.

The work MUST be dark in some way. There’s no limit to how dark your work needs to be or can be, but it needs to contain some sort of dark theme in order to qualify. If non con isn’t your thing, dub con via stockholm syndrome or brainwash can let you write a more comfortable scene while still remaining dark. Fics and art do not necessarily need to be NSFW.

Do NOT post anything before 12/01/2023. I will not count submissions prior to that date or after 12/31/2023. Masterlsit will be posted in January.

Your work MUST contain the proper tags. I won’t police how detailed your tags should be, but, for instance, if your work contains non-con, and you didn’t tag non-con then your work will not qualify. Please be inclusive in your writing where you can.

You may submit no more than two (2) pieces. This can include a fanfic and fanart, two fanfics or two fanarts. This is to allow someone to write a piece and make a work of art to accompany it.

I’m not going to yuck someone’s yum, but there are some things I’m just personally not comfortable with and since I’ll be reading/viewing all of these, I have a few things not allowed in the event. The list of what’s NOT allowed is shorter than the list of what IS allowed so here’s a list of the things that will NOT be tolerated in this event:

No underage/aged up minor content - To clarify, this includes things popular ships like - TLOU 1 or Show Ellie x Joel or Miguel O’Hara X Gwen Stacy. No "ageing up" minors for the purpose of a fic.

No Bestiality - To clarify, monsterfucking does NOT count as bestiality (at least to me). For example, werewolves, venom, Khonshu, e.t.c. are all allowed.

No incest - To clarify, step-sibling/step-parent relationships are permitted as long as everyone is 18+. Selfcest relationships are also allowed (like Moon Knight or Miguel with his alternate self, e.t.c.).

If you’re unsure if something is allowed or not, you can send me a DM or an ask for clarification prior to posting.

You can use any prompts you want or none, you aren’t tied to any one idea but here are some to get the ideas flowing if you need them!

Also, you can absolutely use a fic to inspire your art, or art to inspire a fic! Your inspiration piece, whether yours or someone else’s does not have to be from December, but you MUST obtain permission from the original creator before I promote your work. Most creators are happy when their work inspires others, and all my fics are open to being used for inspiration, but please reach out to the creator first.

I’m very excited! I’ve never done anything like this before so things may be updated as I go so bear with me! Looking forward to seeing what you all come up with!

Dividers and header made by the amazing @melodygatesauthor

Please consider reblogging to spread the word!

#dead dove do not eat #deaddovedecember2023 #dddne #dark #dark fanfiction #oscar isaac #pedro pascal #joel miller #moon knight #tlou #dark!joel #jake lockley #triple frontier #dark content #dark!fic #non con #dub con #yandere #dark jake lockley #dark marc specter #dark steven grant #dark santiago garcia #dark francisco morales #dark pero tovar #dark smut #dark duke leto #cw rape #tw noncon

[tenpintsofsundrop]

The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary:

While undercover inside the Separatarian Sect, you and Spencer realize something important: you can't live without each other.

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Lovers. Fake Dating. Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 4, Episode 3.

Word Count: 8,200

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

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Full list of warnings and author's notes below.

Warnings: Lots of spoilers for the canon episode - so if you haven't watched Season 4 of Criminal Minds yet, steer clear of this fic for now (especially because watching the episode provides some context for this fic/makes things make more sense); the reader uses she/her pronouns and has the ability to get pregnant (she is not pregnant during the fic and there's no smut, but due to discussions in the fic, it's not unreasonable that she could get pregnant); fake dating in the form of a fake marriage - the reader and Spencer pretend to be married under the Christian religion to 'appeal' to Cyrus; because of the fake marriage, Spencer uses the term 'my wife' to refer to the reader; lots of mentions of religion (Christianity), religious extremism, mentions of pedophilia/child brides (in line with the canon episode); mentions of systemic sexism and gender roles enforced by cultures of organised religion and religious extremism; use of y/n and l/n (in this case meaning 'your last name'); the reader pretends to follow the Christian religion while undercover but I never stated if she believes in a less extreme version of these things or not (the reader's true religious beliefs are never stated); protective!Spencer, possessive!Spencer; mentions of Spencer being taller than the reader (which, again, I think he would be taller than most people) - the reader's body/body type is not described in any other way; mentions of guns and gun violence (not described in deep detail) - in line with the canon episode; the reader and Spencer fear for their lives; dangerous/live-threatening situations; the reader and Spencer are threatened with a gun; Cyrus is just generally creepy and sexist toward the reader; Spencer is pistol-whipped and the reader is threatened with sexual assault (it does not happen, Spencer protects her); mentions of pregnancy/the reader being pregnant (she is not pregnant during the course of the fic); mentions of the reader being a mother/having kids (Spencer makes up fake kids to sell their fake marriage story); the reader realizes she might actually want to be a mother because of Spencer's fake kids story; mentions of an explosion (as in the canon); love confessions; angst with a happy ending. Hopefully that is everything.

A/N: The title for this fic comes from a Fall Out Boy song of the same name. The theme/lyrics of the song don't really fit the fic, but I love the way that this title fits - how everyone in this fic is lying in some way but Spencer is someone with good intentions while lying. Making him the Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes. I love how it fits. I wrote this while suffering with heat exhaustion so idk if it's good or even makes sense. I rewatched the canon episode and it doesn't 100% align with what happened in the episode in terms of the timeline and stuff, and I am too tired to rewrite the whole fic to make it align with the episode. So uh - alternative canon? But I really love the basic concepts and I do really love how it turned out. I hope you guys like it too!

...

You thought it would be an easy day. 

Maybe that was foolish on your part. So far, you hadn’t seen a single ‘easy’ day while working with the BAU. Between chasing down scumbags and then reliving every single gory detail while doing the paperwork - none of it was ‘easy’. It was worthy, accomplished work - making the world a safer place to live in. (At least that’s what you told yourself.) But it was never easy. 

There was always someone who made the job easier. Someone who made you smile every single day - especially on days when you didn’t think you were even capable of feeling a tiny shred of joy. Someone who made you feel safe, who you always felt had your back no matter what. So you were glad that he was by your side today, along for the ride. 

“Tell us about Cyrus.” Reid prompted. 

He looked to the woman driving, your new companion for the day - Nancy Lunde, someone who worked with the state department and had set up the interviews with the children at the Separatarian Sect. 

“Benjamin Cyrus. No criminal record. In fact, there’s no record of the guy at all.” Nancy explained. 

“That’s odd.” You commented. “Usually someone being accused of something like this would have some past offenses. Especially because it would give him a reason to move into isolation to continue the criminal pattern of behavior.” 

“Well, I couldn’t find anything on him.” Nancy shrugged. 

“What about the 9-1-1 call?” You asked. 

“A fifteen year old girl called in saying that a man was ‘laying with her’ and claimed it as ‘God’s will’. I believe the ‘he’ referred to is Cyrus.” Nancy explained. “The age fits with Jessica Evanson, but I’ve managed to negotiate interviews with all the children, just to be sure. It wasn’t easy.” 

“They’re incredibly weary of outsiders.” You commented. “Our boss warned you not to identify us as FBI, right?” 

Nancy nodded. “I got you some spare credentials, just in case.” 

She took one of her hands off the wheel and reached into her pocket.

“You’re going to be using your real names. You’re going in as Child Victim Interview Experts working with Child Protective Services. No association with the FBI.” Nancy explained, handing Reid your fake credentials. 

He nodded, inspecting the IDs before handing you yours where you were sitting in the backseat. 

“Oh, before I forget.” You noted, reaching into the pocket of your cardigan. “The rings.” 

You pulled out a small plastic bag that Hotch had given to you before you left. It was a bag containing a fake diamond ring in your size and a fake golden ‘wedding’ band for Spencer. 

Reid reached over the seat to grab his ring from you, and Nancy gave the two of you an odd look. 

“Rings?” She questioned. 

“Fake wedding bands.” You explained. 

“It was our Unit Chief’s idea.” Reid added on. “He believes that presenting us as a ‘godly’ married couple to Cyrus will make him more likely to open up to us. He’s less likely to see us as hostile outsiders if he believes that we share a similar system of beliefs.” 

“It could also have a calming effect on the teenagers we have to interview or the kids there who have had more time to go through indoctrination at the Sect.” You continued to explain. “Even if their parents are hesitant to let the kids speak with us, they may be more willing to have their child speak with us or even leave them alone with us if they believe that we’re fellow Christians, rather than hostile atheists there to poison their children’s minds.” 

Reid nodded at you through the rearview mirror. 

“Make sure you put on the left hand.” He told you. “That’s the position for marriage.” 

You nodded at this. 

You placed the ring in the appropriate position, and you couldn’t help but to take a moment and stare at it. It was jarring to have a wedding ring on - especially with the thought that it represented you being married to Spencer. But you supposed, of all the people to call your husband, he would be one of the best. He was honest, intelligent, kind, and… if you were pressed, you would definitely say he was handsome. 

But you couldn’t get too caught up thinking about all of that. Because it wasn’t real. It was a false projection you were wearing for the benefit of a self inflated sociopath. 

Spencer liked the feeling of the ring. He didn’t take too long to stare at it after he had put it on, because he knew his mind would wander if he did. When Hotch had first proposed the idea of the two of you pretending to be married, Spencer had almost tripped over himself to oppose it - mostly because he didn’t think that he would be able to handle simply pretending to be your husband for the day. It was just too cruel. 

Having something he wanted so badly dangled right in front of him and knowing that it was all just a farce - it bothered him, but he delighted in the play nonetheless. 

When he caught the fake gold glinting in the light, Spencer had to remind himself that it was fake - that you would just be playing his wife for the day. He had to push back any internal glee that he felt at the idea that he got to be ‘taken’ by you while wearing that ring. It wasn’t real. It was just for the day. 

“Isn’t that deceptive?” Nancy asked. “Won’t Cyrus be even more angry if he finds out that it’s not true?” 

“He won’t find out.” You replied confidently. “And besides, we use deception in interrogations all the time. It’s a very basic tactic: align yourself with the suspect. Make them think you share the same beliefs, that you’re on their side.” 

Reid grinned at this. He always loved it when you spoke so confidently. 

… 

“We’re looking for Mr. Benjamin Cyrus.” Nancy announced as the three of you got out of the car. 

“Then you’ve found him.” Cyrus announced confidently. 

He was pretty much what you had expected him to be - dressed informally, slouched over, faking meekness, holding a bible near his chest as though it were a shield. He had planted himself there purposefully, wanting to be the first person to interact with the outsiders as three of you came into the Ranch. 

You hovered back near Spencer, letting Nancy make the first introduction. 

“I’m Nancy Lunde.” She said, giving a small nod toward the man. “We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation.” 

“‘Savages they call us, because our manners differ from theirs.’” Cyrus rhymed off a quote, obviously positioning himself and his group as martyrs being attacked for having ‘different ways’ that the world simply didn’t understand. 

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus.” Nancy reminded him, hoping to keep the religious zealot on track. 

“Actually, it’s Benjamin Franklin.” Reid corrected her, talking about the quote. 

That did surprise you, but you didn’t find it surprising that Reid knew this fact right off the top of his head. It was just one of the many amazing things about him - his perfect memory and his ability to use it. 

Of course, him saying this immediately drew Cyrus’ attention toward the two of you. So Spencer stepped up to introduce you. 

“Hello, I’m Spencer Reid, and this is my wife, Y/N L/N.” He said motioning toward himself and then to you as he introduced the two of you. Hearing him refer to you as his wife - you hated to say it, but it caused a jolt through your system. Almost as if you had been waiting forever to hear him say those words and hadn’t even known it yourself. “We’re Child Victim Interview Experts, here on behalf of Child Protective Services.” 

Of course, you couldn’t get too caught up in deciphering how those words made you feel, because you had to focus on the task at hand. The job that you were here to do. 

“How far from God’s word must we have strayed for there to be a need to invent a job called ‘Child Victim Interview Expert’.” Cyrus said, his tone even, quiet. 

You knew that covertly, it was his way of saying that the two of you didn’t belong there, because he ran the Ranch with God’s word, so nobody had actually been harmed (in his opinion). He believed that he had done nothing wrong. Obviously, he thought your time and resources were better spent with ‘actual’ victims who didn’t have his power wielded over their lives. 

“I can assure you, Mr. Cyrus, we try to bring God into our work.” You told him, trying to appeal to him. “The children we visit usually need prayer and God’s light the most.” 

Spencer gave you a sideways glance, clearly holding back a grin at how thick you were pouring it on - how much intense, feigned passion you said these words with. 

“Well, I can assure you that a lack of prayer and God’s light is certainly not an issue for the children here.” Cyrus said, giving you a clever little grin. He thought that you would simply interview the children, praise him for what a good job he had done, and then leave. “You can go and see the children whenever you like. They are up at the school, as I indicated in our phone call.” 

Nancy walked toward the school, and you paused before you followed. 

Before you walked off, you looked to Spencer. In a completely silent conversation that only worked so well because the two of you had been in so many tense situations before, thinking around UnSubs and planning miles around them before they could even know it, he gave you a small nod and you instantly knew what it meant. He had established a small bit of trust with Cyrus, so he would stick back and see what else he could get out of the man. 

You nodded back, and then - completely surprising yourself, you leaned in and kissed Spencer on the cheek. You were just playing the part, you told yourself. It’s not that it felt entirely instinctive to say goodbye to him with some kind of affection, like the many hugs you had given him before. It’s not that you felt so entirely scrutinized with Cryus’ piercing eyes on you, and you needed the anchor of Spencer’s touch. 

You were just playing the part. 

Spencer tried not to get caught on being kissed on the cheek like he was some blushing virgin, and instead, focused his attention back on Cyrus instead of watching you walk away. (Even though every single one of his instincts told him that he needed to keep a more careful eye on you because you both had to leave your guns in the car.) 

He took a step closer to where Cyrus was leaning on the concrete, and easily picked a topic of conversation. 

“Solar panels.” Reid said, motioning to the large devices sitting behind Cyrus on the grass. 

“Yes.” Cyrus nodded. “We’re completely self-sufficient here. Food, electricity, water. Benjamin Franklin said ‘God helps those who help themselves’.” He explained. “You look surprised.” 

“No, uh, impressed, actually.” Reid easily lied, trying to appeal to his ego. 

“Thank you.” Cyrus said. “Most men wouldn’t admit that.” 

“Well, I suppose that I’m not like most men.” Reid shrugged in return. 

“How long have you been married?” Cyrus asked, motioning toward Reid’s ‘wedding ring’. 

Reid panicked slightly, knowing that the two of you likely should have coordinated this story during the plane ride to Colorado so that your answers to these simple questions wouldn’t be different. But he just made up an answer and hoped that nobody else would ask you the same question and find out the deception. 

“Three years.” He said. “I’ve been very blessed.” 

He used the language purposefully, knowing that the simple phrase could get him on Cyrus’ good side. That, and he hoped it would draw the attention away from any possible signs of his blatant lie. 

“Your wife is very beautiful.” Cyrus commented. 

He gave a wicked smirk as he said this. It was a simple, fairly ‘innocent’ comment, but it was immediately off-putting to Spencer. It took everything in his body not to glare daggers at Cyrus or throw out some protective comment in return. He could only imagine what was going through Cyrus’ mind as he thought about you, and he hated even imagining it. 

Reid knew that it was a basic logical good, the instinct to protect you because you were his partner on this case and he was supposed to have your back. But it was also something more. Something in every fiber of his being that screamed you were his and no man should ever be thinking of you that way except for him. 

“Has it been a godly union?” 

He was lucky when Cyrus spoke again and distracted him from his mounting rage. 

“We try to be as godly as we can be.” Spencer took the simple, diplomatic answer. 

“Your wife didn’t take your last name.” Cyrus pointed out. 

Nancy had used your name on your false credentials because Hotch had only come up with the fake marriage idea the day before. There hadn’t been time to inform her about it and have ‘Reid’ put on your ID as your ‘married’ name. So he had introduced you by your name to keep everything consistent with the reuse. 

It did make Spencer wonder if you would keep your last name if the two of you ever did get married. It made him almost dizzy, thinking about you as ‘Mrs Reid’. Thinking about your kids having his name. Or your name, if that’s what you wanted. 

But naturally, he pushed past all those thoughts and formed an excuse. 

“Typically, married women aren’t very well perceived in our line of work.” He quickly excused. “She doesn’t even get to wear her ring that often. She couldn’t change her name on paperwork at our office because a working married woman… it’s heavily frowned upon.” 

“Well, I’d have to agree.” Cyrus grunted. “A woman shouldn’t be out working. A woman should be at home raising a family.” 

“I - I suppose you’re right.” Reid agreed through gritted teeth. 

He walked away toward the school before he got too angry again. 

… 

A few hours later, everything had gone to hell. 

Some authority - the police, the military, you didn’t even know - had charged into the Ranch shooting. In response, Cyrus and his followers had come into the school toting large semi-automatics asking you and Spencer if you knew about a raid. 

You didn’t. You wish you had known about a raid. You would have warned Hotch and gotten them to call it off. You certainly would not have been there while it was happening. 

When they had pointed those guns in your face and forced you into the tunnels - it wasn’t very difficult to pretend to be Spencer’s wife then. Cowering in the bunker, confused and scared, you flung your arms around his waist almost instinctively, and he buried his nose in the top of your hair as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders like a shield, promising you that everything was going to be okay. 

Whispered to you like that, coming from him - it was almost easier to believe. Even with the chaos going on around you and the fear pumping through you in response. 

Nancy had run off trying to get them to surrender and did not come back. You had a feeling that you knew what that meant. 

And now, with the kids from the school ‘evacuated’ into the church, you were being held in the cellar at gunpoint. They had forcefully separated you and Spencer, making you sit in chairs at opposite sides of the room.

Spencer was fidgeting. His eyes kept flickering from the door, to you, to the man standing beside you holding the very large gun. 

You knew that you had ugly tear tracks down your face, and oddly enough - you wanted nothing more than to be back in his arms. As you were forced to sit there, just a few feet across the room away from him - you ached for it. 

There was a very large possibility that you were going to die today. And you selfishly needed the comfort of being in the arms of someone familiar - someone safe. Someone you knew would never hurt you. Someone who had made you laugh with dumb science jokes and puns for the last five years that you had worked together with him. 

When Cyrus charged back into the room with two men flanking his sides, you and Spencer stiffened up once again. 

“God will forgive me for what I’m about to do.” Cyrus announced to the room, presenting a handgun from his belt. 

Your insides quaked, and Spencer’s eyes grew wide. 

You couldn’t contain the fearful whimper that erupted from the back of your throat when he raised that gun and placed it near the middle of Spencer’s forehead. You clasped a hand tightly over your mouth to keep yourself from crying out in protest, knowing that would only make things worse. 

“Which one of you is the FBI Agent?” Cyrus asked firmly. 

Which ‘one’? 

So he knew that you were undercover, that you had lied about your job titles - but he thought that only one of you had done so. Where the hell was he getting his information? 

“I - I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Spencer told him quietly, looking him in the eye the entire time. 

You hoped that his stutter could be passed off as nervousness from the gun being pointed in his face, and wouldn’t be pointed to as deception. 

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus pressed. 

“We are not FBI Agents.” Spencer said, more confidently this time. “We are Child Victim Interview Experts. We were only sent here to ensure the wellbeing of the children. Nothing more, nothing less.” 

Well, that last part wasn’t a lie. 

“You’re lying.” Cyrus told him, entirely confident in this. “God expells those who lie, devils in sheep’s clothing.” 

There was a tense moment, and then Cyrus cocked the gun. 

Spencer didn’t flinch. You resisted the urge to scream. 

“Proverbs 12:22 says: ‘The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in those who tell the truth.’” Cyrus said, actually citing scripture this time. 

He was giving Spencer one last chance to tell the truth. As if using the bible verse to say that his punishment would be lesser if he simply told the truth now. 

Spencer didn’t take the bait. 

“I’m not lying.” Spencer said firmly. “What? You think I wouldn’t know if - if my wife was an FBI Agent? This is the woman I wake up next to every single morning, the woman I go to sleep next to every single night, we work together every single day, we-” 

Cyrus interrupted Spencer’s ranting with a sharp hit to the face, pistol whipping him across the cheek. 

This caused Spencer to go flying off the chair, and you couldn’t help when you let out a wounded cry. It took everything in you not to jump out of your own chair and rush to Spencer where he had collapsed onto the ground, clutching his cheek. 

“Someone is going to tell me the truth.” Cyrus said gruffly. 

“It must have been Nancy!” You said, the idea finally popping into your head. 

You seemed to be more clever with the pressure of Spencer’s life being threatened. Cyrus stared you down, turning his attention fully toward you now. You caught Spencer’s eye for a moment and he gave you a small nod - as if to say ‘yes, keep going with that’. 

“The woman we came in with! Nancy!” You reasoned, continuing to point the finger at the woman you had to assume was dead. “We - we just met her today. Our boss introduced us to her, but we had never met before that. If she was FBI, we had no clue. We swear.” 

Cyrus turned to you then, and tightly pressed the barrel of his gun into your forehead. You could feel the imprint of it so tight in your skin that it hurt, and you could only lean away so far before threatening to knock the chair backwards. 

“It’s very convenient to pin this crime on someone who isn’t here.” He grunted at you. 

“It’s the truth.” You sniffled out quietly. 

“Hmm.” Cyrus hummed thoughtfully, and then, much to your surprise, he removed the gun barrel from your forehead. 

You barely had a moment to breathe in relief before he began skimming the gun down your neck, touching the metal whisper-gentle across your bare skin - clearly taunting you. It was something that made your whole body stiff with alarm, and caused Spencer’s eyes to go wide once again.

“Perhaps I should strip you naked to ensure that you’re not wearing a wire.” Cyrus said, teasing the gun along the buttons at the front of your cardigan. 

You held back a sob at the thought of it - at the idea that he could make you do almost anything for the fear of you being shot. Truthfully, you were more afraid of what he might do to Spencer if you didn’t comply, but it was all the same in your mind now. His life was just as valuable as yours, and you would do whatever it took to protect him.

Before Cyrus could take these threats any further, a heroic voice intervened. 

“That’s enough!” Spencer yelled. 

He gathered himself off the floor and oddly enough, none of the men moved to stop him as he came to stand beside Cyrus. Perhaps they didn’t see him as a threat. Perhaps it was because Cyrus didn’t bark any orders at them to stop him. He was entirely unflinching, keeping his focus on you and keeping his gun held between your breasts as Spencer crowded into his personal space, trying to press himself between you and the awful man. 

“We’ve told you everything that we know.” Spencer told him lowly, his voice heaving with well controlled anger. It was something that you had rarely ever heard from him. 

Cyrus kept his eyes locked on you, so Spencer continued. 

“We don’t know anything about the FBI - we have a simple job advocating for children who have been abused. That is it. We came here to investigate a most likely false claim against someone in your community and we truly didn’t mean to get caught up in all of this.” He said firmly, clearly trying to appeal to Cyrus. “So I suggest you get that gun away from my wife before you and I truly have a problem.” 

Spencer’s voice was dark, so thick with rage. More pent up rage than you had ever heard from him when he was talking to any suspect, people who had done the worst of the worst. Something about Cyrus threatening you had truly boiled his insides. 

The way he said the words ‘my wife’ - growling it out like he was a feral animal and this threat to you had activated every single one of his protective instincts. Hearing it made something inside of you yearn for him on such a deep level that you didn’t know was possible. You wanted to feel that kind of protection cast over you every single day. It made you feel invincible, having Spencer watch over you like that. 

Cyrus lowered the gun then, and Spencer grabbed your arm as you dissolved into hysterical tears. Instinctively, he lifted you up into his arms. You thought that you heard Cyrus mumble out ‘my apologies’ as he left the room - but he was barely on your radar. Your entire world became narrowed down to nothing but Spencer, your safety net as he built a wall of protection around you. 

He used his height to block you from seeing anything but him, letting you push your face into his chest as you cried. He wrapped you in his arms once again, letting you feel truly safe for a few moments as you sobbed into the fabric of his sweater. Your arms clutched desperately at his waist, needing to keep a hold on him - needing to ensure that he didn’t leave you. 

“Hey, shh. Shh. It’s okay.” He said, leaving gentle kisses on the top of your forehead and your hair, rubbing across your back with one hand, comforting you in the only way he could in those moments. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

Of course, he wanted to break down too. But he had to be strong for you. 

“Spencer,” You called his name in an utterly wounded voice, pulling away from his chest to look up at him. 

When you saw his injury up close - a sharp, purple-red bruise that was blooming across his cheek, it looked so utterly painful. Your insides ached at the thought that he had taken a blow for you. You hated to imagine what more they could have done to him if they had not believed your lies. 

You instinctively reached a hand up to touch it and he caught your fingers halfway, instead, gently grasping your hand and laying it on his chest. The intimacy felt so oddly rehearsed - so worn in, so ‘normal’. It felt like you had been married to Spencer for years. Like it wasn’t a play at all. 

Your two souls had been calling out to each other for years, just waiting for the dam to break. But you couldn’t quite put it into words - not like that. 

“It’s okay.” He said quietly, knowing you were horrified by the injury. 

He was so gentle, so comforting, so calm. Everything the men pointing guns at you were not. Unlike Cyrus - Spencer Reid was a true blessing from God. 

You couldn’t hold yourself back then. 

You surged up and kissed him, fully embracing his mouth with yours in a kiss. Though it was so sudden, it was something he easily returned. The kiss so full of urgency, so needy, so passionate. Like he was trying to tell you that it was okay, that he would protect you no matter what. 

He would protect you because you belonged to him. 

In those moments, the two of you were basically alone. One of Cryus’ men was guarding the door, watching on boredly. But Cyrus was off in the church, funneling people in to prepare for his ‘loyalty’ test. It didn’t matter if he saw you kissing or not - it wouldn’t have sold the reuse of you being married any better. 

This was just for the two of you. This was comfort. 

When you pulled back from the kiss, Spencer looked stunned, almost as if he couldn’t believe what had happened. You didn’t give him time to question it. 

“Thank you.” You said quietly. 

It was twofold:

Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for giving me comfort. 

Spencer didn’t have too much time to marinate in the meaning of the kiss before Cyrus’ men came back and fetched the two of you, wanting you to observe the loyalty test. 

… 

After the mock poisoning (which Spencer figured out rather quickly, making you admire his cleverness once again), Cyrus kept you and Spencer in the church with a few of his closest, most loyal followers while all of the low level followers dispersed back to their homes. 

You and Spencer were lingering in the back quietly while Cyrus was on the other end of the room, talking to his men about how to proceed. The plans for their ‘final stand’. 

“We need to get some kind of signal to the others.” Spencer whispered quietly. “Maybe they’ll take pity on you and let you go if-” He swallowed sharply, cutting himself off abruptly. Oddly enough, he didn’t want to voice whatever was on his mind. 

“If what?” You probed. You wondered what the hell you could possibly be thinking. 

“If we tell them that you’re pregnant.” He said, whispering so lowly that you almost didn’t catch the words. 

You rolled your eyes sharply at this. 

You had gotten married and had kids all in one day. What a miracle. 

(In those moments, clouded by fear, you couldn’t see it for what it truly was - Spencer blatantly revealing his unconscious desires to have a baby with you.) 

“We could convince them to release you. As a show of good faith. A pregnancy would be good leverage in that. You know how religious people are about fetuses-” Spencer reasoned. 

“Yeah, and what if they give me a test?” You probed, punching a large hole in his logic. “We don’t know what kind of infirmary they have here. They obviously believe in modern technology. What if they want to give me an ultrasound to check on the fetus after the stress of the day? To prove that they did no harm to the precious unborn child,” 

Spencer was easily caught on this point. If they examined you and found that you weren’t pregnant, all the lies would fall apart. 

“Well… what if we tell them that you have a baby at home that you need to get back to?” Spencer reasoned, jumping to the next logical conclusion in his mind. “It’ll likely garner the same level of pity.” 

“Your imaginary sperm is powerful, isn’t it?” You whispered back sharply. Spencer rolled his eyes this time. But he didn’t redact the plan as unreasonable, so you continued on. “Okay, what do I even do when I get out there? I’m not gonna be of any use to the tactical team. We don’t know what Cyrus’ final play is yet.” 

Truthfully, you couldn’t bear to be separated from Spencer. Knowing that he was inside, potentially being beaten up more, potentially being shot and bleeding out from a wound without you knowing - it would kill you with stress. You need to be by his side. You needed to know that he was okay. 

“Has God blessed your union with any children?” Cyrus appeared behind you suddenly. 

You wondered if he had heard you say the word ‘pregnancy’ or if this was just a random topic that had come up in his mind. 

His sudden appearance behind you caused you to whip around and crowd into the comfort of Spencer’s arms again because you were frightened. Naturally, Spencer wrapped his sheltering touch around your shoulders. Your back was gently pressed into Spencer’s front, his arm shielding you protectively as it was wrapped around your chest, holding you with his hand on one of your shoulders, unconsciously stroking his thumb across the fabric of your cardigan. The position had you both facing Cyrus, watching the fan in an offensive way. 

And of course, Spencer didn’t miss a beat. 

“Yes.” Spencer answered easily. “We have two kids at home. A boy and a girl. Iris and Hugo. Iris is almost three years old and Hugo is eleven months. His first birthday is coming up in June.” 

You knew that Spencer could be very good at talking off a suspect’s ear under pressure, but when you heard him rattle off these ‘facts’ so easily, it hit you. 

This wasn’t simply statistics or physiological knowledge - this was a very elaborate backstory for your supposedly real marriage. Perhaps he had thought about all of it on the car ride up (which was odd not to share it with you, in case Cyrus asked you a similar question and your answer didn’t match up with Spencer’s). 

But if you weren’t mistaken, this wasn’t simply a backstory for your fake marriage during the undercover mission. This was a fantasy of his. Those were names he had lovingly chosen for your imaginary children - kids he had dreamed up in his head and wanted to be real. 

Your heart ached at the thought of it. You found yourself missing a set of children that weren’t even real. (And distantly, wanting to jump his bones to make it a reality.)

“Tell me, Mr. Reid, would you find it so shameful for your daughter to marry young?” Cyrus asked. 

You found it odd to hear Cyrus call Spencer ‘Mr. Reid’, but you realized that he hadn’t introduced himself as ‘Doctor’ in this setting. You held your tongue when you felt the need to correct him as you had so many other people, wanting Spencer to receive his proper title. 

Your mind almost couldn’t focus on the question that Cyrus had asked. Of course, he was trying to get Spencer to stroke his ego once again. Basically admitting that the whole reason the two of you had come here was true - he was being vastly inappropriate with a young member of the church, and getting away with it. And he saw nothing wrong with it. 

And he was trying to get an outsider to admit that he saw nothing wrong with it too. 

When there was a moment of silence - Reid obviously torn on how to answer the question, Cyrus continued. 

“Is there really something so wrong with a blooming young woman marrying a man who will protect her under God’s laws?” He probed, his voice so entirely confident. Clearly confident that he was right. 

“Well, I’m not sure if I would let my daughter get married so young.” Reid said, finally speaking up. “I just know that I would want her to marry a man that would protect her, and be the best possible fit for her. Someone who would cherish her and be good to her no matter what.” 

His answer made you swoon. You reached up and gently gripped his forearm in response, giving a light squeeze to show your approval. He leaned in and kissed the back of your head - dizzyingly, you were imagining him walking your imaginary daughter down the aisle before you had even gotten married yourself. 

Maybe it was being so close to death, being threatened in such dangerous territory that was causing your life to accelerate at light speed in your mind. If you were going to lose everything, you might as well enjoy the escapism of a fake life with a beautiful man in your mind instead of being stuck on the heart pounding terror of being held hostage, right? 

Surprisingly, his words drew a smile from Cyrus. 

“You’re a protective father, aren’t you?” Cyrus asked. 

“Of course.” Reid confirmed. 

“I can always admire that in a man.” Cyrus nodded. “A man should always pride himself on protecting his family.” 

There was another moment of pause, and you were hoping that the topic had been dropped completely. 

“Do you have a picture of your children with you?” Cyrus asked. 

You wondered if - in a different version of reality, where you and Spencer really were married, where Hugo and Iris really did exist - if you had a picture of them in your pocket, would Cyrus only be asking this so he could use the picture to taunt the two of you? What other purpose would he have for knowing what your children looked like? 

“Unfortunately, no.” You answered. “I keep my family pictures on my desk. In my office. We - we’ve just been praying to get back to them safely.” 

Cyrus seemed perturbed at you mentioning that you had an office. Something dark flickered over his features for a moment and then disappeared. 

“Well… if it is right, God will grant you that safe passage.” Cyrus said. 

Just when you truly thought the conversation was done, he said something to you that entirely grinded under your skin. 

“I find it entirely odd that a mother of two young children spends her days working a job where she takes care of other people’s children, rather than staying at home with her own youngins where she belongs.” 

He said, using that same entirely confident, righteous tone that he always did. Even though you were not really a working mother, you had a hard time not boiling with anger at the sexism ripe in his statement. 

“How much must you be missing of your sweet angels lives to instead partake in the horrors of devils you shouldn’t have to witness.” 

Of course. 

You had a hard time not rolling your eyes at this or saying something harsh that would set him off. Instead, you reached up to Spencer’s arm around your shoulder, squeezing his fingers, trying to keep your patience.

“I’ll have you know that Y/N is an amazing mother.” Spencer piped up, knowing that Cyrus respected him enough as a man that he wouldn’t beat him simply for speaking up. “Her nurturing and caring makes her infinitely better at her job.” 

Again, you knew that there was so much personal truth in Spencer’s words. He thought that you would make an amazing mother to his children - at least theoretically. He was entirely firm in that conviction. And he thought that your natural caring made you amazing at the job you did as a Profiler. He knew this from the quality of work he witnessed you doing every single day. 

You didn’t know it - but it was just one of the many things that had caused him to fall in love with you. 

Oddly enough, Cyrus’ words prodded at something deep inside of you. It made you imagine a life for yourself where you weren’t spending your days witnessing horrors from unspeakable devils - but instead, at home, looking out for Spencer’s imaginary children. 

You would have said it was the fear of the day, clouding your mind. But maybe it was the clarity of being so close to death that made you realize what - and who - you truly wanted out of life. 

… 

Hours later, after some of the hostages had been released (the ‘non-believers’ who had failed the loyalty test), Cyrus had requested that some food be sent up. Spencer gave you a sharp look when he saw the message written on one of the takeout lids. 

The team would be storming in to end the hold-out at 3am. You had to somehow ensure the safety of the hostages by then. 

Obviously, the fake pregnancy idea was still warping through Spencer’s mind, but you had come up with some much better. 

“Cyrus,” You called out his name gently, getting his attention. “You said that you have a nursery here?” 

It had come up, during his long winded bragging about how perfect the Ranch was. Something about how mothers didn’t have to raise their children alone. The children were raised as more of a ‘group effort’ and women took ‘shifts’ in the nursery, allowing the women to rest or get chores done in the interim. 

“Yes, we do.” He nodded. 

Spencer stared at you with his jaw set, wondering what you were doing but not daring to speak. 

“I - I’ve been missing my children dearly. I was wondering if I could go to your nursery and see if they need any help? It would do my soul good to be around young ones right now. After all the commotion of these days.” You spoke meekly, trying to play the part of the shaken up, dainty woman well. 

Which was too difficult, seeing as you were playing up the fear you had already experienced. 

He grinned. It was a rather menacing smile, and you tried your hardest not to show any further fear, or disgust. 

“That sounds like a splendid idea.” He nodded. “Christopher, why don’t you escort her down to the nursery and then come back? We need you here for our final preparations.” 

You were finally falling to those gender roles that he had been pushing on you since you had arrived. He didn’t suspect a thing. He simply thought that you were a God fearing woman falling to your natural womanly instincts, needing to care for children lest your womb shrivel up and you die. 

Spencer rose from his seat and Cyrus stopped him. 

“Just your wife.” He said, putting a hand in front of Spencer’s chest to stop him. “There are still some things you and I need to discuss. Man to man.” 

You went over to Spencer and didn’t hesitate to plant a kiss firmly on his mouth, which he returned with vigor. This one lasted only a moment - it was something precious for the two of you. You didn’t need to put on some pointed show for the men in the room. 

“It’s okay.” You told Spencer quietly, brushing your fingers gently over his uninjured cheek. 

You could tell that he was dying to ask you what your plan was. But he kept the words trapped in his throat, unable to speak in front of the many temperamental villains lurking about. 

“Come on.” Christopher grunted. 

Spencer gave you a longing look as you left. He didn’t want to think it, but as he watched your figure retreat out the door, he feared that it would be the last time he ever saw you. 

… 

Your plan worked flawlessly. 

Getting to the nursery meant that you had unsupervised access to the women and children, especially away from Cyrus’ prying ears. Because you were a ‘delicate’ woman, nobody suspected you of having ulterior motives. You easily found a crack in Kathy, Jessica’s mother. You spotted her as the one who had made the original 9-1-1 call, wanting to get her daughter away from Cyrus. You convinced her to help you get everyone out, and you felt intense relief when you were met with a familiar face in the cellar as everyone escaped through the tunnels. 

“Where’s Reid?” Morgan easily asked you, glancing behind your shoulder as if waiting for him to appear. 

“He’s still up at the church.” You told him. “I had to separate off to help get the women and children out-” 

“Go on, we have to get you out!” Morgan urged, trying to gently usher you along. 

“We have to go get Reid!” You argued, trying to turn around. 

“Go, go on, I’ll go get Reid!” He told you. 

You were about to argue back, but you were cut off by a scuffle behind you. 

Jessica was yelling about Cyrus - how her mother had betrayed her, tricked her. 

Morgan pushed Kathy toward you and ran off screaming for Jessica. You took Kathy’s arm, gently convincing her that everything was going to be okay as you guided her the rest of the way out. You had to focus on this, convincing yourself that everything was going to be okay. You had to tell yourself that Derek was going to get Spencer out - that they were both going to be okay. 

When you got outside, you were hyper focused on marching away, taking a path away from the church as directed by the officers in charge. You froze in your tracks when you heard it - an earth shattering boom. The ground beneath your feet shook. You felt a puff of hot air swell to touch your back. 

You let go of Kathy’s arm and whipped around, and you couldn’t even pay attention to where she went. You almost thought you heard her weeping, but your mind couldn’t process it as your eyes were glossed in bright orange flame. 

It was the church. 

“Spencer?” You gasped quietly. “Spencer!” 

You couldn’t help it, but you began to run toward it. Your feet carried you faster than you could think, and before you got more than a few feet across the ground, you felt a sharp grip on your upper arm. 

“L/N!” 

Hotch’s voice, sounding far too distant for the position he held right behind you, viciously gripping onto you as you fought against him, trying to get toward the fire - trying to get to Spencer. 

“Hey! Hey! Stop it!” Hotch tried to order you around, tried to get you to stand down. 

He got a hand around your waist, and you continued to kick like a wild horse, fighting against his grip as hot tears poured down your face. 

“He’s in there!” You sobbed. “Spencer is still in there.” 

“Calm. Down.” Hotch ordered sharply. 

You collapsed back into him sobbing, all of the fight leaving your muscles at once. You couldn’t fake the reality in front of you. 

“You running in there and getting hurt isn’t going to change anything.” Hotch told you quietly, a somehow distant murmur into your ear. 

Through the blur of your tears and the sharp orange glow, you saw the shape of two bodies. You heard coughing as someone emerged from the blast, hobbling down the stairs at the front of the church. You forced your eyes open wider, trying to see who it was, and then: 

“Y/N!” Spencer called out your name gruffly through the smoke he had inhaled, and you easily shucked off Hotch’s grip to race up the stairs to get to him. 

He was leaning on Morgan for support and you were worried that he was hurt. But the moment you were close enough, he tore himself away from Morgan and the two of you met in the middle. In a pattern that was easily developing, you fell into the safety of his arms, holding him tight enough to bruise him - never wanting to let go. 

“You’re so stupid, you’re so stupid! Why would you do that to me?” 

You sobbed out, gripping both sides of his face, staring into his eyes, needing the recognition that he was right there, right in front of you. 

He stared back with glassiness - intense fear, adrenaline, and something small that told you he was thankful for you, and needed you now more than ever. 

Of course, your words were simple anger at the situation, not at Spencer himself. The terror of thinking that he was dead still pumping through your veins, causing you to shake. 

“I know.” He said quietly. “I love you.” 

His voice wrapped around the words so tenderly - it was the most sincere declaration you had ever heard from him. As if to say ‘I know how much that scared you. I know what this ordeal has done to us and I only meant it more because of how scared I am’. 

“I love you too.” The words flew from your lips so naturally it hurt. You took a moment to recover, entirely shocked by your own lips. And then, you only found the need to say it growing more inside of you. “Spencer, I love you.” 

You pulled him toward you with the grip you had on his face, and he easily met you in one of the most earth shattering kisses you had ever experienced. 

It was no longer a show, it was no longer about displaying the fake marriage for someone else’s benefit - if it had ever been about that in the first place. It was about the two of you. It was about feeling that comfort, that safety. It was about the fact that your two souls were drawn together since the day you had met. The fact that you had always felt safe with each other. You had always been the other person’s shelter from the storm. 

And you poured every ounce of those feelings into that kiss. 

You combed your fingers through Spencer’s hair, taking a harsh grip on the back of it, holding him there so he couldn’t pull away from your lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, fisting the back of your sweater. Both of you entirely refused to come up for oxygen, not even caring who saw the epically passionate, public display of your love for each other. 

Unbeknownst to you, Morgan and Hotch exchanged a look with raised brows as it happened. You and Spencer didn’t care. You were barely perceiving the world around you as the two of you kissed. 

“You know if you’re not careful, people are actually gonna think you two are married.” Morgan said, being his usual sarcastic self. 

Rather than pulling away from Spencer’s lips to sass him back - you simply flipped Derek off over Spencer’s shoulder. 

On the ride home, JJ handed Derek five dollars. He had the over/under that the two of you would get together before the end of the year. JJ said that it wouldn’t happen for another five years, at least. Derek handed the fiver to Emily when she reminded him that the ‘fake marriage’ bit had actually been her idea. 

When Emily and JJ relayed the story to Penelope, she squealed so loudly into the phone that JJ dropped it. 

Hotch pulled you aside later and warned you that the fake rings were just cheap costume jewelry that Garcia had gotten and they would tarnish soon if you kept wearing them. He also recommended that you and Spencer put in the paperwork with HR if you were ‘serious’ about the relationship. You knew that it was him wishing the two of you his best. 

A few days later when you came into work and found the HR request for an update of relationship status sitting on your desk, already signed by Spencer, you couldn’t help but to smile.

...

A/N: okay, I do have to admit, the ending kind of sucks imo (like the last few paragraphs) because I highly resisted the urge to end this with 'baby making' smut where y/n is like if 'you want kids for real, then we can have kids', and then Spencer just goes nuts. because I did like the more cheesy/romantic love confession ending, and I was getting way too tired to write smut for this. idk if I should do that 'x amount of reblogs for part 2' thing or if I'm just happy with this being a standalone oneshot?? idk. if people ask for a part 2, then I will set a reblog goal for it. and I will work on a part 2 for it after Lesson Two is posted.

#sundrop writes #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n

[gvtted-ratz]

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Soft To The Core

König x M!Reader

Last Edited: 03/01/23

TW: death mentioned

AO3 LINK -> HERE

anon: 4 with König and he/him male reader. That is all <- frothing at the mouth but being SO COOL about it (4. accidental touching!!!!)

Word Count: 767

Notes: hey again bestie… i see u. i have our dms about the man n u frothing btw. Also. ik absolutely nothing about guns n stuff so uh. oop ig… also. i made the reader like. kinda techy n speak some russian? i was listening 2 gore by graveyardguy as i wrote this just so u know. Didn’t influence much of the thing but the title is definitely from the song.

You hum as you clean your sniper rifle; the disassembled piece of metal all over your lap. Usually, you would be around a table or even in your own assigned room. However, today they had a mandatory room check. While you didn’t mind it, having all the tables and sitting areas taken out in the cafeteria as well as the shooting range didn’t help. This leads to you sitting underneath a small pine. It’s fairly young, being only large enough to cast enough of a shadow to give you cover from the sun.

While you don’t mind cleaning your gun, making sure your laptop was in better shape or needed to be put back together was more interesting. While you’ve done it a hundred times before, for you, it never got old. You enjoyed taking apart the electronic gadgets and putting them back together. Seeing how they work and even improving them intrigued you more than going out on the field and sending bullets people’s way to splatter their blood everywhere. The missions they assign you in KorTac have been nothing but boring or a pain. You’ve never actually trained for this part or even with the rifle at all. You are more of someone who hacks cameras, reads coding to try and find anything that could give enemies away, and even disarm some bombs via the tech you have on hand during said times.

Now, while it’s not something you prefer doing, you can’t help but enjoy at least one of your members. König, or King as many call him, is your favourite man. Despite his awkward social interactions, he’s never been particularly rude to you. Nor has the giant Austrian ever tried to get on your nerves. He keeps to himself mostly, leading to you having to seek him out if you want company. Sometimes he’s out and about, though he’s either alone or towering over the other soldiers.

Of course, that doesn't mean he’s not deadly. You’ve seen him out on the field. He’s truly a rampaging beast. He picks up enemy soldiers and cracks their backs over his knee. He’ll gun them down or snipe them, giving a laugh or giggle. He’ll yell out in a happy tone “I have some cash!” whenever he gets his hands on even a single coin. He’s wilder and more brutal. And you couldn’t help but notice. However, despite noticing it, you didn’t treat the man any differently.

A large pair of military-issued boots appear in front of your crisscrossed legs. Looking up, you see the man you’ve been thinking of as you cleaned the barrel of your gun. “Ah. König,” You say, giving him a small smile. “Привет! How has my favourite man been?” König’s hands are loosely holding each other, nearly touching his stomach with his chosen position.

“Ah… Ich meine, es lief gut…” He says, looking uncomfortable standing there. You gesture to the ground next to you, letting him know that he can sit beside you. With confirmation now obtained, König lets himself fall into a seated position right next to you. He ends up knocking his knee into your thigh; you wince at the sharp pain but laugh it off.

“I’m so sorry..! I did not mean to hit you. Bitte vergib mir!” The large man starts to apologize immediately, already beating himself up over the accidental touch. You wave him off, trying to make your smile softer to try and reassure the Austrian.

“ нет, нет! Все хорошо, ты в порядке!” Your words seem to calm him down a bit, despite him not exactly understanding your words. “Besides, König, I say you’re sharp as a knife but Soft To The Core.” You’re not sure why, but the words felt right to say.

“Ja? Well… They do say beauty is on the inside, Freund,” He tells you; a nearly inaudible chuckle escapes him. You feel another smile pull at your lips at his words.

“They sure do, мой возлюбленный. They sure do.” You mumble. With some silence between the two of you, it’s easy to hear the shout of one of your captains letting you all know that the mandatory room clearance has been finished. You playfully smack König’s shoulder, clasping it as you stand. “Let’s go back, да?” When he gives you a nod, you shove your gun parts into the duffle bag you brought just for it. “Let’s go then! Maybe we can grab some food once these bozos clear out.” With those last words, you take the lead, König following behind you quietly and with genuine happiness shining in his eyes.

#x male reader #x reader #my fics #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #cod x reader #cod mw 2 x reader #cod x male reader #cod mw2 x male reader #konig x reader #könig x reader #könig x male reader #konig x male reader

[sundrop-writes]

Hey everyone! I'm Sundrop, but you can call me Sunny. I am a fanfic writer, and this is my fanfiction blog where I post all of my newest fics. Right now, my main fandom is The Walking Dead. If you want to know about the fandoms I'm interested in generally, check out my Main Masterlist. Requests are currently open. Please read my rules page before sending in a request. If you have a question about my fics or about my blog in general, it might be answered by my FAQ.

About me: I'm a 90s baby (I remember Blockbuster lmao), my pronouns are she/her (but I don't mind being called dude or other masc nicknames), I am autistic, bisexual, and polyamarous (and those things often heavily inspire my writing). I am chronically ill; I have POTS, EDS, and some of my fics may go behind schedule or may be cancelled due to flare-ups of my illness, just so you guys are aware.

All of my fics are subject to The Autism Clause. This means that I could randomly lose interest in a fandom, an idea, a WIP, or a series that I’m writing at any time. If something is victim to this Clause, it means that I will stop working on it before it’s finished, and I will likely never mention it again unless asked about it.

If you are curious about what happened to a fic that was planned or you want to know why I haven't updated in a while, definitely go over to @tenpintsof-sundrop to see updates about my personal life and my creative process and how that affects my fanfiction posts. This is not my main blog. This is just a blog I use for posting fics, so if you wanna know more about my interests and the progress of my fics, then definitely head over to my main.

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I would highly recommend downloading the Interactive Fics Extension for Google Chrome - it turns every use of Y/N into a fanfic into your actual name, and it works very well with my fics to turn the reading into an immersive, personalized experience.

If you are looking for more of my older fics, then definitely check out my AO3 - which is the largest living catalogue of my fics in existence with over a million words on it. If you enjoy anything that I have posted here, you can go there to check out more of my work. However, please keep in mind that all of my work over there is archive locked to keep it out of the hands of AI scrapers and bots, so you will need an account to view it. And you need to make sure that you're logged into your account on all browsers before you click the link.

Most Recent Work: Careful - Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader (Series)

Currently Working On: The Jaws of Life (sequel to Emergency Contact)

Coming Soon:

Heaven’s Gate (for The Walking Dead) - Daryl Dixon x GN!Reader. Strangers to Lovers/Soulmates/Lovers Reunited. Angst, Fluff, Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 1 to Season 5. 17k in counting. You can find a preview here. In this fic, you and Daryl get separated when the Governor attacks the prison, and though you both believe the other person is dead (or long gone) you find each other at the most unlikely time, in the most unlikely place.

The Jaws of Life (for DC Titans) - Jason Todd x GN!Reader. Sequel to Emergency Contact. Lovers Reunited. Extreme Angst, Smut, Hurt and (some) Comfort. Set during Season 3. 21k in counting. In this fic, you and Jason struggle with the new meaning of your relationship after what happened with Deathstroke - only for this tentative change to be harshly disrupted by the Joker. And you’re still heavily mourning when a red hooded stranger breaks into your apartment one night, seeking medical care because apparently - you owe him one.

Nasty (for Stranger Things) - Sub!Eddie Munson x Dom!Fem!Reader. Established Relationship. Smut/PWP. 3k in counting. In this fic, you and Eddie have been dating for a while, but you don’t like that all of his attempts to have sex with you have him taking on a (seemingly fake) dom persona. When you finally tell him that you prefer to be more dominant in bed, he isn’t disgusted like you thought he might be - he loves it.

#sundrop speaks #pinned post #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader

[moons-dunes]

Welcome to Moons-Dunes!

Quick notes before you get started:

All of my fics are crossposted on my Archive. I’ll also be using this Ao3 account for longer fics if anyone is interested in reading those.

I have had my work stolen in the past and rather not let it happen again. This blog and on the Ao3 account linked above are the only places I am posting my stories, so please let me know if you see them anywhere else.

Interaction is always welcome and appreciated! However, any hatred and/or harassment of any sort towards myself or anyone else will be deleted and blocked.

Navigation below the cut!

Requests welcome!

Masterlists:

One Shots

Kinktober 2023

More to come!

#masterlist #moon knight fanfic #moon knight smut #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight x reader #marc spector smut #steven grant smut #jake lockley smut #fanfic

[yelenasdiary]

Masterlist

Welcome to yelenasdiary! I hope my work brings some love and comfort if you ever need any. Here you'll find everything you need to know about myself & my blog below the cut.

Just want to make this clear, this blog is for those 18 years and older! Minors & Men, please do NOT interact! You will be blocked!

Side blogs: @yelenasdiarylibrary & @thescarletshold

~ Discord Server > If you want to join a discord server, please send me a dm. I can only send you an invitation link privately to assure you're 18+.

~ Sending a Request > Please read this carefully before sending any form of request. If you are unsure about anything, please don't hesitate to send an ask or dm! > You can find who I write for & more there. > Please also remember that, sending a request doesn’t guarantee it will be written.

~ Character Variants > This is just a list of variants for characters that I write for! if you have something in mind that you'd like to share, please do and I'll add it the list.

~ Taglist for My Work > Please only comment on the linked post, I don't remember to check comments on fics if people ask to be add.

~Become an Anon > Check here to see already taken emojis.

~About Me > Just a little information about me if you're interested!

~Buy Me an Iced Coffee >I don't expect anybody to do so x it's there if you'd like too.

You can also find me on Ao3 & Wattpad!

Characters -

Marvel -

~Yelena Belova

~Wanda Maximoff

~Natasha Romanoff

~Kate Bishop

~WandaNat

Celebrities

~Florence Pugh 🥰

~Scarlett Johansson 🌹

~Hailee Steinfeld 🌊

~Elizabeth Olsen 💐

~Others Masterlist 🙈

Current Series-

~The Third Widow ⧗ - ON HOLD

~The Widows AU ⧗

Coming Soon

...

Specials

~Flufftober Masterlist 2022 Ѽ

~October Special 2023 Ѽ

~Advent Calendar Masterlist 2022 🎄

~Holiday Special Masterlist 2023 🎄

~Valentines Special 2024 💜

#masterlist #fanfic writer #marvel #florence pugh #yelena belova #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #kate bishop #fanfiction #scarlett johansson #hailee steinfeld

[caycanteven]

My blog will not have any explicit content, but possibly suggestive and mature themes. Please DO NOT interact with my content if you are not 18+. I will block anyone I find out is not of age.

Hey hey~ Nice to meet ya, I go by Cay! If you're reading this, you stumbled upon my stash of sexy husbones and other hyper fixations! Below is a master post of all my creative endeavors, commissions, and an FAQ. Please check that out first before hitting up my inbox!

My blog is a self indulgent, self-insert focused art/writing blog. Everything here is either for fun or for myself. I'm here to smooch skeletons right now, and I'm sure you are too, if you came this far.

I dont give permission to make an AI of any of my characters nor use my artwork for them. I do not give permission to trace or repost my work.

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️ LGBTIQA+ SAFE! 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈

Useful Links~!

Socials: Twitter, Tumblr, BlueSky

Blog Rules!

My Reblog Space

FAQ

HOW YOU CAN HELP PALESTINE! CEASE FIRE IN GAZA!

Wanna Support Me?

My Kofi ☕

Commissions - Currently Closed! 🫶

----------------✨My Art✨-----------------

Commissioned Work!

My Indulgent Drawings!

Fanart!

Sketches and Doodles!

Shipping Tags:

#nightmare x lex, #lex x red, #lex x axe, #don balsam x lex, #balsam x lex, #god!axe x goddess!lex

----------------🖊️~Writing~🖊️--------------

My AO3 (18+, Rated E)

Origin Point/She Calls it the Lexverse (Sparatic Updates) Note: Eventual Smut, Self Insert Story. Personal Project following Lex in the Underverse.

These Diamond Waters (Slow to Update) Note: Eventual Smut, Siren!Sans/Red/Skull x Reader inspired from Tilikum by @/llamagoddessofficial

Of Skin and Bone (Slow to Update) Note: Eventual Smut, Mafiafell Sans x Reader inspired by concept from staringback. Dark themes.

Check out my updates and other fun, au scrambled drabbles here:

#caycanwrite for all my fic updates!

#caysdrabbles for other writing I post on a whim.

#please respect #no minors allowed #pinned post #info for you all

[darkkitty1208]

I see comments like these from bots have been going around lately, and have as shown received them myself, so I decided to just set my works to have it so that only registered users can comment. This means guests can *still* read, but can't comment on my works. Which is a shame considering I barely get comments to begin with. (Most of the comments I've received this week alone were from bots, and only the occasional real, actual user.)

If you're looking to making an ao3 account, you can request an invitation here. Though you may need to wait some time before it gets into your email.

Having an ao3 account means: being able to bookmark fics you like, being able to make collections of fics you like, being able to read and comment on all (including user-only) fics (with the exception of if the author disables comments), also post your own stuff, having a convenient place (inbox) where you can sort through replies and comments you've received, be able to get gifted works (there is a setting for if you wish not to, and a button you can use to refuse gifts), customise your icon and URL, mute/block users you wish not to interact with, subscribe your favourite authors/works/series and get email updates when they post (authors cannot see their subscribers' usernames and only the amount), etc.

I know people who feel anxious about getting an account for a variety of reasons, like being recognised by your URL or just the idea of making a new account (anxiety has no logic, you cannot control it, so these feelings are valid), but I swear making an account is worth it. Especially if you want to continue to support us authors in a more direct way. If otherwise then you do you.

And, despite the fact I could just as easily post my writing on this blog instead, keep in mind that it's official that tumblr is using user posts and feeding it to AI. I do not wish for this to happen to any of my works. I am unsure if posting any of my stuff here is safe at all, even with disabling third-party sharing, so for now I'll probably refrain from sharing anything but links to my works on ao3.

Ok that's all. Now back to blorbo writing.

#oh and fuck ai #that shit can burn in hell

[miraclewoozi]

hi everyone ! <3

i very recently hit the milestone of 500 followers on this blog! first and foremost, i want to say a super huge massive great big THANK YOU to everyone who has followed me here, and also to anyone who has ever interacted with one of my fics! i want you to know that genuinely, every like, every reblog, every ask and every single piece of feedback warms my heart so much. couldn't do this shit without you guys. second and... secondmost? (don't look at me like that) i wanted to try to give back some of that love and play around a little (especially with writing for members i've never written before) by doing a little event. SO... until my birthday on the 14th MARCH, i'm going to be be taking prompt requests! (t's + c's under the cut, please read them! i will delete any asks that don't follow these simple guidelines.)

EVENT RUNTIME —

exactly four weeks, from today! any asks sent with requests after THURSDAY 14th MARCH will be deleted!

HOW TO —

to send a request, just send me an ask containing both the member you're requesting for and a prompt from one of the following lists! fluff | smut | angst

PLEASE NOTE —

regardless of whether your request is for smut, fluff or angst, MY BLOG IS STRICTLY FOR PEOPLE 18+ ONLY. please respect this. minors, do not interact with me: you will get blocked.

if you can, try not to be too specific with your requests: ideally, member + prompt only. however, if you picked a fluff prompt but wanted it to be a smut piece, that's okay! just let me know. otherwise, keep it minimal.

i'm going to try to keep these relatively short (ie. no more than about 2.5k words each). don't hold me to that though. if something tickles my fancy it'll no doubt be more.

please be patient with me. i'm new to this. i may not (probably definitely won't) write these in order of receiving them. i might take some time to get to yours. i am not ignoring your ask! i'll likely even end up writing some of these after the event has ended. please don't come into my inbox asking where yours is because i might cry. thanks. <3

everything for this event will be tagged mw500party! do with that what you will.

i am not taking regular requests at this time! hard hours are always welcome (please come and drop your most unhinged thoughts in my inbox, i'll love u forever) but if you send a request that is not linked to a prompt as per this event, it will just get deleted.

if (strong on the 'if', i am 90% expecting this to flop and therefore for this post to self destruct in like 3 working days) i get overwhelmed with the number of these that get sent in, i may choose to close this up early. that's at my discretion. i'll try not to! and i'll let you know if that seems likely to happen.

and... that's it? i think! again, i really can't overstate how much it means to have you guys all here and supporting me. thank you, from the bottom of my silly little heart. i hope you'll stick around for wherever my brainworms take me from here on out. peace.<3

#j talks. #psa. #mw500party! #i'm not kidding if this flops none of u saw this post and we won't mention it ever again. KISSES <3 #i will pull a rita ora on you all. don't think i won't. #(no i have been debating over doing this for several weeks now but if i don't post it tonight perhaps! i never will! so here we are!) #(and am i procrastinating writing high fidel despite the fact it is 218 in like three days? maybe. WE AREN'T GONNA TALK ABOUT IT) #(me to me: i can finish this fic by his birthday and also write a dk fic too. easy.) (turns out me? is a fucking liar) (who knew) #(PLS SEND SOMETHING OR I WILL COMBUST MWAH MWAH LOVE U BYE) #i beg that u ignore the banner. my fucken brain juice equals zero. #OK ACTUALLY BYE NOW. bye

[tenpintsofsundrop]

Black Suit

Dom!Emily Prentiss x Sub!Fem!Reader (Smut Blurb)

Concept: After a particularly hard case, Emily takes you home and helps you unwind by showing you exactly where you belong.

Word Count: 2,900

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

If you want to be notified whenever I post a new fic, make sure to follow my library blog @sundropslibrary and turn on notifications there.

Please read my pinned post before interacting. (Basically, I will block you if you look like a bot.)

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: the reader is part of the BAU; very minimal mentions of typical CM themes (murder/crime scenes/etc.) - the primary focus of this fic is smut; the reader character has a vagina and uses she/her pronouns; the reader and Emily are in an ongoing dom/sub relationship - this includes the background element of safewords (that are not used) and pre-discussed kink negotiation that doesn't happen during this fic; Emily is dominant and the reader is submissive; the reader kneels for Emily; mentions of subspace (but it's not directly called that in the fic); the reader wears a collar (no petplay, just as a symbol of her submission to Emily); Emily's strap-on is referred to as 'her cock' or 'her dick'; a very light hit to the face that could barely be considered a slap (not in the name of pain kink, in the name of dominance); hair pulling (reader receiving); strap-on blowjob (the reader sucks it); Emily is fully clothed and the reader is naked; slight cockwarming; strap-on sex - the reader rides Emily's strap; Emily calls the reader 'babydoll', 'doll', 'greedy slut', 'good girl', 'pathetic slut', 'stupid slut'; Mommy kink - Emily refers to herself as Mommy and the reader calls her that; finger sucking (the reader sucks on Emily's fingers); Emily is generally condescending toward the reader in this, maybe it strays into degradation kink or humiliation kink; verbal degradation; mentions of pulling on the collar - but not quite choking? and I believe that is it.

A/N: This cover is not my favourite - I love the pictures of Emily but I'm not a fan of how dark the background is on the right. This whole fic was inspired by the picture on the left - her sitting in the most beautifully gay way, so I absolutely had to include it in the fic cover. In general, I also just go nuts whenever she wears a pantsuit on screen. It makes me feral. So this was partially inspired by that.

...

“Come on. Come to Mommy.” 

Emily had a unique talent for knowing exactly what you needed at any given time. Whether it was a cup of coffee perfectly timed with your three am yawn on an all-nighter case, or her packing a throw-blanket in her go-bag so that you could have a nap on the jet - she was so in tuned with you that she seemed to know exactly what you needed, even before you did. 

Today - after a particularly hard, long haul case - what you needed was to be mindless. The stress of the victims, the haunting glow of their eyes in the crime scene photos, it was weighing on you. You needed to be her perfect, sweet toy. And she knew that the minute that the two of you got in the door. 

She had mumbled in your ear, telling you to strip as she carried both of your bags toward the bedroom. It was a quiet, but firm order that had you shivering with anticipation seconds. Already, you felt your mind melting out of your ears as you watched the wave of her black hair disappear down the hallway. 

Feeling calmed by the acts, you did as you were told. 

You stripped completely naked, and then you knelt down on the corner of the living room rug, your hands lightly placed on your thighs, your eyes completely on the floor with your head slightly bowed. It was a submissive position that Emily loved to see you in, patiently waiting like an obedient pet for her. 

Just the thought that doing this would please her already had you melting into that soft, comfortable headspace. 

It was a simple routine that already had your stressed insides melting into calmness as you did nothing but sit there holding the position, waiting for her. You listened to the sound of her heeled shoes quietly clacking across the floor, and took great interest in the fact that she hadn’t yet taken them off. 

While you held the position, not looking up, you listened carefully as she came into the room. Then, quite expectedly, she reached down and wrapped the cool leather of your collar around your neck. Being as obedient as possible, you stayed entirely still while she did it, feeling tingles of satisfaction flow through you as the collar settled onto your neck. 

This simple act finished the process of melting your brain completely, and now, you could think of nothing but Emily - nothing but Mommy, how badly you needed her. You couldn’t even bring yourself to feel shameful at the fact that there was a sticky wetness between your legs and she hadn’t even touched you yet. She had trained you well enough that just these simple acts, just the feeling of your collar around your neck made you so desperate for her touch. 

Emily then walked over to the large armchair that she had in the corner of the room. It was something she had there for reading books or enjoying TV (during the little time off between cases that the two of you had). 

Mostly, she had the elegant leather chair for moments like this. 

“Come on. Come to Mommy.” 

It was only when she spoke the words that you had your implicit permission to finally look up at her. 

She sat in the chair with her legs spread, a mighty presence in the room with her suit still on. The only difference you noticed from how she had looked for most of the day was a distinct bulge around the zipper of her pants. The idea that perhaps she had taken off her pants, put on her cock, and redressed just to appear this put together for you… it was thrilling. 

She had been paying attention when you said you liked the way she looked in the suit. It was meant to be a perfectly innocent comment when you saw the way she was dressed for the day. A simple ‘you look nice today, Em’. But she saw right through you - the lustful spark in your eye, the way you bit your lip. She knew all of your tells too well, and she knew exactly what to do with the information. Something she had been saving until now. 

You couldn’t help but to savor the pure air of dominance coming off her with the black blazer and black dress pants draped over her, her black heeled boots still on. Her black button up blouse was still on, but she had a few more of the buttons undone than before. 

This showcased the golden key necklace that sat between her breasts. It was something that you had a matching lock necklace of, but you had taken it off and tucked it away with your clothing knowing that it was going to be exchanged for your collar because you were now in the privacy of your home. 

The necklace was something you had lovingly gifted her, showing that you truly belonged to her in every way and absolutely loved it. 

“Fucking. Crawl.” 

Emily ground out the words harshly when you didn’t move fast enough for her liking. 

You had become so distracted by her gorgeous appearance, but you rushed to meet the demand when her words hit your ears. 

The sound of her voice caused goosebumps all over your skin as you were distinctly reminded of who was in charge. Reminded of why you needed her - because you went so braindead when you became lustful. You needed her to guide you in order to get what you truly wanted. 

You crawled to her, making your way to her on your hands and knees. In a very rehearsed part of the ritual, you placed your head on her thigh, looking up the length of her torso at her. You heavily enjoyed how much she towered over you while you knelt at her feet. She gently combed her fingers through your hair while she admired how sweet and submissive you looked. 

“What do you need, babydoll?” Emily asked, continuing with that firm but quiet tone that you loved so much. Something that showed her power with an epic subtlety. 

You eased your head forward until you were nuzzling at the bulge that was threatening to burst her zipper. You felt nothing but firm silicone under your nose, which caused excitement to pulse through you. 

“You.” You told her, your voice slightly breathless already. “Just need you, Mommy.” 

You looked up at her with your best pleading doe eyes, knowing that she would give you exactly what you needed without you even having to voice it. She knew you too well. And she always knew what you needed before you even did. 

Emily skimmed her knuckles along your cheek, gently prodding her thumb between your lips. In the most natural fashion, you began sucking on the digit, enjoying the feeling as she forcefully pressed it onto your tongue. 

Once again, she easily knew what you needed. 

“Such a pretty doll for me.” She hummed, clearly enjoying the sight of you on your knees for her. 

You hummed happily around her finger at the comment, and she smirked. 

“Get my cock out for me, doll.” She ordered, her beautifully calm voice making the words sound like a song. 

She gently pulled back her thumb, causing a wet smack as it suctioned from your lips and she ran the tip of it along your bottom lip. Knowing that you were likely foggy, already mushy between the ears, she gave you a light tap on the cheek with her open palm to prompt you into following her instructions. 

You grinned at this, letting out a moan as a pleasant warmth spread through you. 

You loved it when she took control over you. 

You reached up and popped the button on her pants, and the zipper practically burst open with the force of her stiff silicone cock behind it. You helped get it out nicely, almost drooling at the sight before you - her black pants stretched over her thighs where they were spread wide to accommodate you, her bright red, veined strap-on sticked out from the fly of those pants with just a bit of her dark pubic hair visible above the strap’s harness. It was so fucking beautiful that you could have cried. 

In fact, you felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes as Emily reached down and forcefully grabbed the back of your hair, guiding your head toward her dick. 

You hadn’t even realized that your mouth was open wide with your tongue lulled out, needy and panting like a dog - not until she slid her cock so perfectly into the opening. She easily stuffed one of your needy holes and made the other throb almost painfully, making you wish there were two of her so that you could be filled from both ends at the same time. 

“Such a greedy slut.” Emily chuckled. “There ya go, suck Mommy’s cock.” 

You moaned gratefully around her cock as the thickness of it stretched your jaw open and forced your tongue flat to the bottom of your mouth. Your hands naturally fell to sit on her thighs, a lovely heat on her flesh through the material of her suit. She couldn’t help but to sit back and admire you, effortlessly guiding your head up and down on her dick. You were so pliant at this point, almost ragdoll-like, your muscles like clay that needed to be shaped by her touch. 

“You gonna warm up Mommy’s cock?” Emily posed, her sweet, soothing voice causing your cunt to clench around nothing. You felt wetness smearing against your inner thighs and you definitely weren’t surprised. 

You moaned in affirmation of this, loving the feeling of your lips becoming slightly swollen and sore as she fucked your face on her dick. 

“There ya go. Good girl.” She cooed. “Need it nice and wet so you can sit on it, babydoll.” 

You moaned even louder at this, and Emily couldn’t resist any longer. 

She pulled you up, loving the way your mouth hung slack, showing the messy trail of spit from your lips to where it glistened all over her cock. 

She didn’t waste any time then. 

She quickly got you up into her lap, having you straddle her with your knees over her thighs. 

You were impressed by the fact that her suit was somehow almost perfectly pristine - her pants were barely wrinkled and her upper half didn’t look touched at all. It was something that turned you on to no end, the visual of her in that powerful suit jacket as you sat astride her. 

(This would definitely be something you thought about every single time you saw her in a suit on the job from now on.) 

She began teasing the stiff cockhead along your dripping folds - apparently all it took was a few moments of her teasing, having your mouth filled and the switch of her dominant persona electrifying the air to flood your pussy. She then used a bruising grip on your hips to pull you down onto the hard length of her cock, perfectly impaling you with it. 

You let out a harsh whimper at the feeling of being filled up by her, and Emily smirked at you in a perfectly devilish way. She felt so whole, having you as a perfect naked prize in her lap. She didn’t know how anyone else in the world could be satisfied if they couldn’t have you. (But she also knew that if anyone else tried to touch you, she would have to break their fingers at the very least.) 

You sat there for a moment, waiting for her to fuck her hips up into you - waiting for her to fuck you senseless in that perfect way that she always did. After sitting there for a moment and simply having that hardness filling you up, your pussy leaking freely around the girth of her cock (surely smearing your wetness all over the seam of her pants where her cock was poking out through) - you pouted loudly and gently bucked into her. 

Emily’s smirk only widened, and she looked ever more like the Cheshire cat. Greedy and satisfied as she leaned back in her chair, relaxing into a comfortable stance with her elbows casually resting on the large arms of the chair. She poised the nail of her first finger up to her lips, holding it tentatively between her teeth as she continued to look at you expectantly. 

“Oh, did you want my help?” She asked, pretending to be completely oblivious of your needs. 

“Yes.” You moaned out. 

Your whole body unconsciously flinched toward her, causing you to move only slightly on her cock, a deeply unfulfilling feeling. It was a harshly nagging fullness with no pay off that begged for more. 

“Yes, please, Mommy!” You added on desperately, tears clutching at the corners of your eyes. 

“Do it yourself.” She told you, her tone entirely domineering but not lifting a single decibel higher than it had to. 

She commanded the attention of your entire body and soul with such simple movements, such a calm voice. It was something that had you clenching around her fake cock and moaning deep inside your chest. 

Emily grinned at you and continued on. 

“Come on, babydoll.” She told you sweetly. “If you need it so badly, you’ll fuck yourself on my cock like a good girl.” 

Of course, you couldn’t resist such gentle dominance. You couldn’t go against her orders. 

You reached your hands out and with a subtle nod from her, you knew it was okay to grip onto the lapels of her suit jacket for support. Then, with your knees planted on either side of her thighs in the chair, you began to fuck yourself on her cock. 

After the exhaustion of the day, your body wasn’t prepared for the effort. Your hips soon started shaking and Emily watched in utter amusement as you started whining bitterly after only fucking yourself on her cock half a dozen times. She held back a delighted giggle, not wanting to mock you quite yet. She wanted to see how far you could get. 

You couldn’t keep the pace - if you were honest with yourself, you had barely even started to reach your desired pace from a lazy crawl. The more you felt jolts of pain shooting through your muscles, pure burning tiredness, the more your sounds turned into petulant whines and the tighter you gripped onto Emily’s suit jacket (wrinkling it quite a bit now). 

When you were finally reduced down to mildly humping yourself against her, grinding your hips against hers in slow, lazy strokes, Emily let out a quiet chuckle - a mocking sound that cut right through you (causing your gut to twist with pleasure). 

“You having some trouble there, doll?” Emily asked, once again putting on a tone that was playfully ignorant toward your obvious problems. 

“I - I can’t do it.” You whined out, feeling tears of frustration bubbling up in your throat. “Mommy, help me.” 

“Oh, you can’t do it?” She cooed, clearly teasing you now. “You need Mommy’s help?” 

You nodded furiously at this. 

She leaned forward and hooked a finger into your collar, yanking on it suddenly in a way that made you moan as your torso was forced to collide with hers and the thickness of her cock jostled inside of you. 

“Mommy-!” You gasped, panting against her chin now as she held you there, trapped you in tight proximity to her. 

She didn’t let you get any more words out. 

“You’re such a pathetic slut.” She scolded you harshly. 

You moaned out loudly as she held you close, keeping that one hand with a finger tucked into your collar, holding you tight to her in a way that caused an even, grounding pressure across your neck. She used the other to dig her nails into the meat of your hip, partially fucking you up and down on her cock as she words her hips into you from below. 

With her feet planted firmly on the ground, she had the perfect angle to fuck your needy pussy. 

In a moment, she had built up a harsh, but slow pace that had you aching and moaning for more. She forced you to stare her in the eyes the whole time, keeping her burning charcoal gaze on yours as she held you there, the tightness of the leather around your neck and the stiffness of her length pushing up inside of you reminding you exactly where you belonged. 

“You can’t even fuck yourself on Mommy’s cock, huh?” 

She teased, her voice becomingly slightly breathless from her efforts. It was just another thing that made you wetter - hearing her sex-worn voice, still somehow composed. 

“You need me to do everything for you, don’t you, babydoll? Need me to make all your decisions for you. Need me to do all the thinking so that your dumb little brain doesn’t even have to try.” 

Her words had your pussy fluttering around her cock, trying to milk an orgasm out of the plastic because your body needed her so badly. But that was one of the best parts - because she couldn’t feel her cock, she could fuck you for hours without the curse of overstimulation that you felt. Just another reason that she could be so composed while you fell apart. 

“Yes!” You moaned out. “Yes, Mommy!” 

“Stupid slut.” She spat the words against your lips, causing you to moan out in an utterly whorish way as she fucked into you harder. “But you love it, don’t you? You love being Mommy’s dumb slut. You love Mommy filling up your needy holes, don’t you?” 

Truthfully, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#sundrop writes #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x y/n #dom!emily prentiss #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n

[gvtted-ratz]

read all our tags/ratings. they are important and give you all u need to decide if you wanna actually read or not. do not like the tags/rating? do not read.

FEM ALIGNING/IDENTIFYING PPL (unless mutuals/friends) DNI WITH OUR MLM WORKS. fem ppl can still request tho. respect our wishes or get blocked. yes we do read/check everything. we tag appropriately/use tags that go with our posts.

want 2 request? find the rules: here!

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Come On, Now

Brahms Heelshire x Masc!Reader

Last Edited: 27/03/2024

TW: none

Anon: Brahms with (male or masc) reader making him leave the house? Can be either fic or Drabble idc

Word Count: 589

AO3 LINK -> HERE

Notes from @gvtted-ratz (writer/creator): We can do that, yes. We decided on a drabble (few hundred words) since we do believe, no matter what, Brahms probably would never leave his home (as is shown in the movie since he does not chase after Greta when she escapes before coming back). Hence, not it being a fic. Hope you enjoy. Another title is “Brahms touches grass for the first time in 20 years.”

Notes from @rppik (editor/co-writer): in which we make the lad touch grass.

Convincing the man to leave his own home is more trouble than you’d like to admit. It’s like a game of tug of war with a large mutt. Upon first suggesting he get some air, he'd reply with a pitiful, “Tomorrow?” in his practised child voice. Any attempt at insisting upon it gets shut down with him responding curtly, in his regular voice, “Not now.” And, well, arguing with him when he switches into his natural, gruff tone of voice is like trying to move a particularly fussy mountain. Until today, that is– not even Brahms is immune to persistent, well-meaning urges from his dear “nanny.”

“Are you sure I have to do this?” It’s a whining voice, one a child usually resorts to using when they can’t get their way. The man's uncanny ability to mimic a child's voice surely adds to that effect, also.

“Yes, Mr. Heelshire. It's for the best you step outside after so long. Not only have you never helped me with the rat traps, but you’ve never even been in the garden,” you finish with a sigh, already tired from this entire interaction. You’ve read that being cooped up in a place for too long can impact one’s health. That's why you’re trying to get Brahms to at least step outside his home for only a few minutes.

“Well, I don’t want to.” His bratty tone doesn’t match his large, tense frame.

“Come On, Now. Surely I’m not that bad of company,” you retort, not allowing him to try and back out.

“You are when you’re trying to be awful,” is his answer, tone cracking halfway through his sentence.

“Awful or not, your parents entrusted me in your care. This is part of the job. Now you’ll listen, or you won’t get a goodnight kiss. I’ll take it off the list for the day.” This seems to work, as Brahms has no more fighting words to give you. You grab ahold of his hand and start to tug him along to the back door. He follows with no protest, the warmth of his hand making yours sweat slightly.

Opening the door, you lead Brahms onwards, the sound of his heaving breathing and your footfalls echoing about as you both descend the steps. You don’t take him to the garden, instead leading him to one of the rat traps, sticking close to the house. You know he would freak out if you took him too far from his safe space and prison.

“See, Mr. Heelshire? This isn’t terrible now, is it?” He doesn’t respond, instead looking up at one of the many windows of the home. The one that has caught his eye has black smudges around it, evidence of a past fire from many years ago; it was before your time here at the house.

“No. It’s not bad. Thank you, Mr. [Redacted],” is his answer. At the prefix, you huff in amusement.

“Being polite won’t get you flattery, Mr. Heelshire. After all, you never use ‘Mr.’ when referring to me. Ever since the beginning of our time together.” After inhaling and holding it for a moment, you release the breath before turning towards the man. “We can go now. I only wanted you to experience outside without being trapped in that dusty house all the time. I’ve heard it helps with your health.”

With those words, you and Brahms head back inside. You can only hope he’ll allow you to make this a daily thing. You just want what’s best for him.

#my fics #x male reader #x reader #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #brahms heelshire #brahms x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #brahms heelshire x male reader #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction #slasher x male reader #requested #slasher drabble

[voxofthevoid]

I don't know if you've answered this before, but do you have any other characters you ship Yuuji and Gojo with or are they exclusive for you? What do you think of ItaFushi or SatuSugu for example, their other popular ships?

It's come up in general a few times, I think. I've had a couple of anons ask whether I ship sukugo or tojogo (solid no for both) and another about my thoughts on Yuuji ships.

(In shocking news, Tumblr search continues to be useless.)

The short version is that goyuu is the only ship I'm well and truly obsessed with; they haunt my waking and sleeping hours, etc etc. They're not exclusive for me though—more like, half of them isn't. I ship Yuuji with a lot of characters (in theory at least; I don't read much in JJK). But goyuu is the only Gojou ship I like. I avoid everything else. This tends to be a pattern for me across fandoms, actually.

My thoughts on itafushi are covered in that Yuuji ships post I linked above. But expanding on that some more, I really love its tragic elements. The way it's consistently love for each other that leads them into some of their worst experiences. Yuuji eats the finger and later dies to save Megumi even before developing any deep bond with him, and Yuuji's impact on Megumi is pronounced throughout the aftermath, especially during the Goodwill event (his dialogue with Kamo, for instance). And post-Shibuya, Yuuji's self-imposed isolation is born from concern for Megumi to a large degree, and Megumi ignoring that concern and deciding to stick with Yuuji is what ultimately leads to Sukuna's incarnation (the Tsumiki-Yorozu mess determines the timing, yes, but the situation was their making too). Depending on the current state of Megumi's soul, I'd like to see some final interaction between them. Feed us some tragedy, Gege.

No one's asked me about satosugu before, so here we go: People who like Getou Suguru and/or satosugu, stop reading here.

I loathe it. It's the only JJK ship that makes me hiss on sight. Like I said, I avoid all non-goyuu Gojou ships, but I don't care if my eyeballs accidentally land on, say, nanago or sukugo. Satosugu, however, turns me into this:

The reasons are twofold. One, satosugu is so ubiquitous that you literally cannot avoid it no matter how many filters you use. It's the first time I'm understanding how it must have been to be a non-stucky shipper in post-2014 MCU fandom, but man, I didn't want to understand. I did start out with just garden-variety distaste for satosugu, but that only lasted till the 100th or so evasion of my block filters. Two, I can't stand Getou. Pre-villainhood, he's fine—well written and interestingly flawed. Post-villainhood? He pisses me off (that's its own essay that I won't get into here). The only characters I dislike more than Getou in JJK are Mahito and Naoya.

Gojou, in contrast, is my second-favorite character after Yuuji. The combination of Character I Adore/Character I Loathe means I run the hell away from the ship.

(For those of you who like Gojou and/or satosugu and read my fics: None of this will show in my writing, don't worry. These days, I'm fairly good at treating characters I dislike fairly, as my MCU fics show).

#i love my anons #anon #itafushi #not tagging this with the other one because like hell do i want this in the ship tags

[ghxst-heart]

ꜱᴀɴᴄᴛᴜᴀʀʏ ─ ʀʜᴇᴛᴛ ᴀʙʙᴏᴛᴛ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Rhett wasn’t a religious man; he hadn’t been for a long time.  Still, he went to church with his family every Sunday and kept his eyes trained on the pulpit.  His mother thought that he was finally taking in what Pastor Simon said to heart, but only one thing could have the youngest Abbott so entranced; the preacher’s daughter that dutifully sat in the front row, every Sunday. ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: 18+, MINORS DNI, mentions of alcohol and hangovers, small descriptions of sexual acts, more to come in full fic. ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪɴғᴏ: Pronouns used are She/Her/Hers, AFAB!Reader, beginnings of a FWB relationship between Rhett and Reader. This is an excerpt from a full-length fic, linked here! ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs: Fem!Reader, Romantic!Reader X Rhett Abbott ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1.1k ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀᴅ: MINORS DNI!! My blog is strictly 18+!! Any minors or ageless/blank blogs interacting with my fics or my blog will be blocked (and, yes, I do check). I can't stop you from reading my fics, but I can stop you from accessing my fics if my boundaries aren't respected. Your media consumption is your own responsibility, just as it is mine regarding what I post. Please tread thoughtfully and carefully, and keep yourselves happy, healthy, and safe.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎The air in the sanctuary was thick as Pastor Simon droned through his sermon, pacing the length of the pulpit with his bible clutched tightly in his old hands.  His voice boomed through the small space, echoing off the wood-paneled walls and resounding in Rhett’s ears as he tried to ignore the pounding in his head.  His Stetson hung low over his forehead, trying to shield his sensitive blue eyes from the blinding morning light seeping through the windows.  His hangovers were never this intense; either he had drunk too much the previous night, or Pastor Simon’s voice was so boring that it was causing him physical pain.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett felt a harsh pinch on his thigh, and he flinched, ready to snap at whoever bothered him, but he quickly realized that it was his mother silently reminding him to stay awake.  His mouth fell into a sarcastic sneer before he recovered and offered his mother a firm nod of his head and a tight-lipped smile to appease her.  Cecilia frowned, and he fought against a whiney comment, instead opting for a quiet grumble as he sat up straight in his chair.  He gave her a pointed look and removed his Stetson from his head, and she hummed in approval, pleased that he had taken her silent direction.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett hadn’t thought that his silent squabble had earned anyone’s attention, but he knew he had been caught when his eyes met the pastor’s daughter’s gaze across the room.  (Y/N) had turned her head over her shoulder, a small, amused smile on her face as she watched Cecilia scold Rhett as if he were five years old again.  Rhett readjusted in his seat, his arms crossing over his broad chest as he felt the tips of his ears begin to burn with embarrassment under her stare.  (Y/N)’s head tilted slightly as if she were asking him a question, but before he could think of an answer to a question he didn’t know, she returned her attention to the pulpit, nodding along with her father’s sermon.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎The young Abbott’s man kept his eyes on (Y/N) as she gathered her hair in her hands and let the strands settle over one shoulder, exposing her neck to his eyes.  Her fingertips grazed her skin, nails lightly scratching the base of her throat before she dropped her hand to her lap again.  Her chin tilted up, extending her neck and stretching her muscles before she relaxed, dropping her chin so she could read the bible resting over her knees.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏���‎ ‎The way that Rhett and (Y/N) were seated gave them direct views of one another, and Rhett could see most of her body.  Her legs were crossed at the ankles, relaxed against the seat of her chair.  Her skirt had ridden up, revealing the smooth skin of her thighs.  She mindlessly toyed with the hem, pulling it higher and higher up her leg.  Rhett thickly swallowed, letting his mind swim with sinful thoughts of marking up her legs, littering them with pretty purple bruises and lovebites.  He thought of kneading the soft flesh with his calloused hands, relishing in the goosebumps he would leave behind, and how the plush fat would feel wrapped around his head, muffling his hearing so he’d only just barely hear the beautiful noises he would draw out of her.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett was thrown from his thoughts when (Y/N) suddenly readjusted in her seat, crossing one leg over the other and swiveling her body, so she was sitting sideways on the chair.  He panicked, body flushing with embarrassment as his eyes flashed up to her face, finding that she was already staring at him.  He had been caught staring at her legs, his mind running rampant with fantasies.  (Y/N) grinned, her teeth chewing on her lip as she let her eyes wander over Rhett’s body before she looked at the pulpit once more, pretending as if she hadn’t exposed Rhett’s shamelessness in checking her out.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) had always been an interesting woman.  She was the epitome of a pastor’s daughter.  She attended church every Sunday, helped out in the daycare on weekdays, was active in the Women’s Group, and helped plan fundraising events for families in the congregation that needed extra funds.  She never did anything wrong, anything sinful, and always said the nicest things with a bright smile on her face.  She wore conservative clothes, nothing too tight or revealing, and her face was always cleared of heavy makeup, giving her such an innocent look with lightly coated lashes, soft rosy cheeks, and glossy lips.  But Rhett had always thought there was something more just underneath the surface.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎They had grown up together, going through elementary to high school in the same classes.  While Rhett grew rebellious and ambitious to achieve fame as a bull rider, (Y/N) remained the sweet, innocent girl that was content to live her life in Wabang as the pastor’s daughter.  By graduation, they were nothing more than strangers to one another, their reputations landing them on different ends of Wabang High’s social stratosphere.  But that didn’t stop Rhett from watching her as she led the congregation in song or served food at the church’s monthly luncheon, blushing when she’d catch his eye or muttering an excuse to leave before his stomach would lurch with a delicious, yet sometimes overwhelming, fluttery feeling.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett was too young and stupid to realize what his longing looks and flustered words around her meant.  He was too naive to understand that his nerves and the funny feeling in his stomach meant more than just a childhood crush.  For years, the youngest Abbott oftentimes tried to convince himself that he was just imagining the lingering stares or the suggestive brushing of her fingertips against him when she passed him.  He tried to brush it off as his darkest fantasies trying to turn polite glances and innocent touches into something more, his mind playing cruel tricks on him in place of his lonesome nights.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎But that was before they grew up.  Now, after being in the world and experiencing real attraction, real lust, he was convinced that it was something more.  He was convinced that (Y/N) knew what she was doing and that she was purposeful in how she looked at him or placed her hand over his when handing him his food at the luncheons.  He was certain now that he wasn’t imagining things when she smirked and turned away, continuing to innocently play with her skirt and show Rhett more and more of her skin after she’d caught him.

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇs: So this is a little excerpt from a Rhett Abbott fic that I'm working on. This will be a smut fic, and with that being said, it will be an 18+ fic only. I'm a little nervous posting this as this is my first time writing for Rhett, but I would love to hear your thoughts! Love you all so, so much!

If you'd like to be added to any of my taglists, click here!

#ghxst-heart #ghxst-heart writes #ghxst-heart fic #ghxst-heart drabble #outer range imagine #outer range fic #outer range #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #lewis pullman #lewis pullman imagine #lewis pullman fic

[nieceeee]

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