#sh fanfiction

[megamindsecretlair]

When It Feels Right

Pairing: Lamont Diggs x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, protected PIV, oral (female receiving) fingering (female receiving) teasing/mocking, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, all consensual. Use of n-word. Drug use.

Summary: Lamont invited you to his studio to help work on his new beat. You help him in more ways than one.

Word Count: 5,057k

A/N: Hello, my loves. I have been feral for this man since watching this show. This was LONG overdue. This is the winner of the Fic poll, thank you to everyone who voted! ONE SHOT. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @babybratzmaraj @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @wide-nose-and-wonderful @hereformiles @flydotty @blackerthings @notapradagurl7

Lamont released a heavy cloud of smoke in the air. You bobbed your head to the new beat he made. Lamont matched your bobbing head, a slow grin working its way across his face. You rolled your eyes and turned away from him, trying to feel the beat without him coloring your opinion.

Just because he was your best friend didn’t mean that you couldn’t lay down the truth when needed. The good Lord knew that he didn’t need an even bigger head. 

As the beat faded and came to a close, Lamont clapped his hands in the too silent studio. It was a rare night where he didn’t have Melissa, couldn’t sleep, and his boys weren’t in the background smoking up all the weed. 

“Go on and tell me that’s hot!” He yelled and clapped his hands again. He played with a few switches on the switchboard and then swung his chair to face you. You swung idly on your own chair, back and forth. 

You gave him a funny look, not willing to admit that it was good. Of course it was good. Dude really knew his fucking craft. 

“It’s aight,” you said and dismissed him with a wave.

“Bullshit!” Lamont yelled. The joint hung from his lips as his long, delicate fingers flew over switches and knobs and he ran the track back. The deep bass thumped through the speakers once more and he turned to you, brows furrowing to gauge your reaction.

“Damn, I’m playing!” You said and giggled. You pushed away from his too intense stare. He sucked his teeth and pushed you back.

“Tell me what you really think, damn,” he said. 

“Nah, that shit is fire, Lamont. Seriously, you tore this up,” you said.

“Thanks, thanks. Just need some dope lyrics on it. Tired of them mumble rapper m’fucka’s,” Lamont said. 

He shook his head, his locs tussling over his face and dropping into his eyes. Your hand itched to push it away so you could continue looking at him. You swung your chair away from him so that your face didn’t give you away. It was the weed talking, nothing more. 

You played with the sleeves of your sweater, swinging around and around in circles until his studio became a dizzy array of green and red. Like Christmas. That was a much safer line of thinking. You could think about lights, gingerbread houses, and pinecones and not about how Lamont’s lips poked out, ready to be kissed.

Lamont turned down the beat and deposited the joint in the nearby ashtray. The smell was loud, filling your senses with its aroma. You smacked his shoulder as you passed him and then smacked it again until he relented and handed it to you.

You took a lungful, holding it in and rolling it around your tongue before releasing it back out into the studio. You watched the smoke lift towards the popcorn ceiling, wishing it would take your thoughts with it. You smoked so that your brain could pause like a TV show. So that you could stop to take in the details around you and make sense of it. 

Your stomach turned and roiled so you stuck your foot out to slow your spins. Lamont was on his phone scrolling through Instagram.

“You always on that damn phone,” you said, grinning as you realized that you sounded like your mama. 

“Okay, Ms. Etta,” he said.

“Shut up! That is not my mama name!” 

Lamont peeked at you from the curtain of his locs and smirked, holding out his hand for the joint. You took one last inhale, the burning embers at the end filling your peripheral vision before you handed it back to him. He dumped the ashes and then took a puff, putting it down on the ashtray. 

Lamont returned his attention back to his phone, head slightly bouncing to the beat he made. Your eyes slowly tracked over all of the mini orange, red, and green lights blinking from the switchboard.

This was the kind of laid back music that would be in a lounge somewhere. Your mind’s eye filled in details of blue ambient lighting. Black men and women and those in between dressed in their finest business casual. Men in deep, monochromatic suits and shiny shoes. Women in dresses a hair shy of too short, showing off long, thick legs and strappy high heels. 

You pictured glasses clinking, words whispered amongst friends, and glances thrown across the room. Ballers sending trays of drinks to the group of women at the bar knowing exactly what they were doing by leaning over it. 

It was a type of sexy beat that you felt in your inner thighs first. The thrumming bass making your thighs jiggle. Warming heat working its way up your spine until you couldn’t help but nod your head, bump your shoulders, and look at your friend to see if they were feeling the beat like you were.

You turned to Lamont, ready to tell him, when his nose was buried in his phone again. You groaned and reached out to slap your hand over the phone.

“You said you wanted no distractions tonight, remember?” You asked.

“I’m done with the beat though,” he said. He moved his phone out of your way and you leaned over a little further to try and snatch it from his fingers. His arms were longer than yours and he easily held it away from you. 

“You said not to let you get distracted. Hand it here,” you said. You snapped your fingers. Lamont shook his head, his locs whipping across his face. His gold chain glinted in the low lighting and it was stark against his white T-shirt, dyed green in the studio lighting.

“You ain’t gon’ snap yo fingers like you somebody,” he said.

“I AM! SOME-BODY!” You cackled at your own joke, eyes wide and smiling so big that your cheeks ached. 

“Goofy ass. You need to stay off this shit,” he said. 

“Boo, you’re no fun,” you said. You continued to reach across the short space between you, trying to reach his phone. You were high, but not that high. Your thoughts were coherent and slow. Like you could pluck each of them out and lay them on a blanket. That you could take your time and choose between them like choosing your outfit. 

“C’mon, watch out,” he said. He nudged you back but you were undeterred. Your tongue stuck out of your mouth, so deep in your concentration. Lamont chuckled, effortlessly fighting you off. 

You huffed and you huffed but you could not blow this wolf down. You sat back in the seat and sighed. “For real, Lamont. I did not come over here, at midnight, just for you to play on your phone. I wanna see some magic,” you said.

“Girl, I just showed yo ass the Magic Kingdom,” he said.

You laughed at his corny ass line and shook your head. “One beat is all you got?” You asked.

“All I got?” Lamont scoffed, affronted that you would even suggest such a thing. 

You inwardly grinned, using your knowledge of him to your advantage. He always rose to the occasion. He was almost too easy as he sat forward in his seat. His left hand dropped the phone in between you while he focused on the board once more.

Where you only saw switches and gears, he saw instruments. This board was a modern orchestra and he knew exactly which sounds to pull from it. Which drums sounded dirty enough to warrant adding snares and strings. 

You snatched his phone from beside him. He instantly balked, trying to get it back from you. You didn’t have the length he did, so you had to resort to putting it behind your back and trying to slide your chair away from him.

He put one hand on your chair to stop your retreat and then the other went in search of his missing phone.

“C’mon, stop playing!” He laughed as he struggled to get the phone from you.

You only had so many places to stick it. You kept moving it like you were playing hot potato with it, tossing it from one hand to the other. “You come on! I know why you call me here. So I can keep yo ass focused!”

“I focus just fine without you. Ever think I just want your company?” He asked.

“Duh, you always want my company,” you teased, still moving the phone every two seconds while he lunged for it. A giddy feeling swelled in your chest like a balloon, filling up all of your hollow crevices and giving you the feeling of floating despite feeling heavy. 

“Always? You loud and wrong,” he said. He sat back with a huff, eying you. You grinned, looking for any type of eye twitch or flicker. Anything to indicate that he would make a sudden move and try to snatch it from you. 

“Oh? I guess I should just leave then,” you said. You leaned out of the chair, butt hovering over the seat that was practically molded to your ass by now. You felt a few twinges. The side effect of sitting too long. All this cushion in your ass didn’t mean shit. 

“Man, sit yo ass down and hand me my phone. Please?” Lamont asked. But the please was not sincere. You stuck out your tongue while you placed the phone down your shirt.

The warm metal laid across your skin and you grinned at Lamont’s expression. His face kind of froze. Or paused while he stared at your chest. It was nothing new for the two of you, so you couldn’t name why it made your belly flip. 

“You think that’s gon’ stop me?” He asked. Was it you or did his voice get a little deeper? A little rougher? 

You adjusted the phone against your cleavage and threw up your hands. “What you gon’ do?” You asked.

Lamont licked his lips, a small smile forming on his lips. “You know I can just turn you upside down and shake you like a toy?” 

Nope. That did not make your pussy flutter. You did not imagine shaking for entirely different reasons. 

There was always this thickness between you and Lamont. A sort of sticky, gooey middle that kept you glued to his side all these years. You had been friends for so long, you didn’t remember the exact number. Where one went, there went the other. There was always a lingering look, a hand on the hip placed too long, a bite to the lip. 

You never crossed the line. The timing was never right. Either you were with somebody or he was. He was nursing your broken heart while you were getting him turnt up for his. He had an entire baby with Mia who had him wrapped around her tiny manicured pinky. Despite his protests otherwise. 

Now. Now you were both single. Unattached. No messy drama getting in the way. 

“Whatever, Lamont. I am here to keep you on track,” you said. You shook your head and smacked your lips. “Literally and figuratively.” 

“Gimme my phone,” he said, that same rough voice dancing along the sticky gooeyness that made your toes curl. He didn’t need to see the way you looked down trying to get yourself under control. 

“What you gon’ do?” You asked, rolling your neck for emphasis.

He smiled and shook his head. He waved his fingers in a ‘come on’ gesture and you smacked his hand. 

“What you gon’ do? What you gon’ do?” You kept asking, waiting for him to reply. To say something. Anything. You were tossing out the question like a fishing line, baiting him with delicious chum. With the irresistible urge to either latch on and let you know that it wasn’t just you or toss it aside and let it drop once and for all. 

“Say it one more time and I’ll show you what I’m gon’ do,” he said. 

“What you gon’ do?” You said slowly, enunciating each word so there were no misunderstandings.

Lamont’s hand shot out and pulled your fuzzy sweater away from your chest. His other hand snuck up your shirt and went fishing around for his phone. But his hands roamed too broadly, lightly squeezing your titty every so often. 

“Lamont!” You yelled. 

He licked his lips and got closer. His breath fanned across your face, a subtle mix of candy and weed. His hand continued to roam while he slowly closed the distance between your lips. He looked at you the entire time, giving you ample opportunity to back away.

But you wanted this. You casted that fishing line out into the ether, so you closed the distance for him. You pressed your lips against his finally. Your dreams didn’t come close. It was nothing like what you thought it would be and everything you dreamt it could. 

His lips were soft against yours. Smooth tongue running over your lips and sloppily slanting against yours. You hummed, low and softly but you were sure he heard it. His hands continued to roam under your shirt, no longer seeking his phone. 

Instead, his hands found your breasts and began to knead them, fingers grappling for your nipple. As soon as his fingers found that little pebble – no bra because you hadn’t felt like throwing on one just to chill with Lamont – he squeezed and rolled it between his fingers.

“Oh shit,” you said against his lips, finally pulling back far enough to get some air. Some room. 

“Mhm,” he moaned. “You think I ain’t been paying attention these past few years?” He asked.

“Wh-what you mean?” You asked. He rolled his lips around yours, kissing you but only just so. His wide nose danced against yours. One thing about high sex that you loved was how sensitive you became. How the little hairs on your skin picked up the different changes in temperature or tingled with every brush of skin. 

“All them nasty ass stories you liked to tell. About how men never hit it how you like,” he said.

He switched his hand to your other titty, seeking your nipple a lot faster. He rolled it in between your fingers and your breath stuttered. 

Already, he was leagues better than half the guys you’d been with. Or perhaps it was your lingering, previously unclaimed chemistry, doing most of the work for you. This was inevitable. Your lips would always meet his. His hands would always press into your skin. 

“You remember that?” You asked.

“Kept hoping it would be me in one of them stories. ‘Cept, I know what I’m doin’,” he said.

You giggled and pushed away from him. “Big fuckin’ words, boy,” you said.

Lamont had a playful frown on his face, considering your words, before he slapped his hands onto the arm rests of your chair. He caged you in your chair while he leaned down for more kisses.

His lips were like little clouds of heaven. Each one sweet, soft, and lazy. He lowered himself to his knees, still too tall for his own good. He kept kissing you, even while his hands went roaming again. 

He pulled your sweater off and took in the white tank underneath. His lips found yours again as if he didn’t want to be gone too long. He mixed in nips and licks to keep you on your toes. He grabbed his phone from out of your tank and placed it on the edge of the switch board.

He returned his attention to your body, kissing and biting you through the fabric of your tank. You felt him, but you didn’t really feel him. You lifted the tank and threw it over your head.

Cool air from the studio hit your upper body and you immediately shivered. Even with the thumping beat and lingering smoke, you weren’t warm enough. Lamont helped you lower your leggings and panties, pulling them off and throwing them across the room.

You were fully naked, staring into his dark eyes while he was still dressed. He leaned back, took in your curves, dips, and valleys with a satisfied grin.

“So that’s what you look like underneath all them damn sweaters. You been keepin’ this from me?” He asked.

He rubbed the goosebumps from your arms, scooting in between your legs and making you spread them wider to accommodate him. He looked you in the eye while he lifted one leg, kissed it, ran his tongue right behind your knee before placing it on the arm rest.

You felt ready to explode. He did the same to your other leg, but trailed more kisses down the length of it before placing it on the arm rest.

“You gon’ answer me?” He asked.

“Waat?” You asked. 

He chuckled. “You were just gon’ keep hiding this from me?” He asked.

“I-I wasn’t trynna hide it,” you said. Your words were slow to form and even slower to get out. 

“You wasn’t? Then why I ain’t never get a taste yet?” He asked.

He leaned across your body. His cotton shirt was almost too rough against your skin. You hissed, moving away from him but he moved forward anyway. The shirt tickled your skin but you didn’t have enough air in your lungs to giggle. 

Anticipation flipped in your belly, like it was playing hopscotch in there. You didn’t know what he was going to do next. You were on an infinite precipice of waiting.

He didn’t make you wait long. He kissed you, moving his hands between you to brush his fingers along your wet seam. You jerked in the chair but he had you effectively pinned. You had nowhere to go. Trapped in the chair with him covering your naked body. 

You moaned, licked your lips in between kisses, and then went back to feeling those sexy lips on yours. 

His fingers pushed in, separating your pussy lips and dipping into your heated essence. He moaned into your lips, tugging on your bottom lip. “You always get this wet?” He asked.

“Uh-uh,” you said. 

“No? I just bring that out of you?” He asked.

“Uh-huh,” you said. You had no words. With every swipe of his fingers, he pulled them out of your head. Each pass of his fingers around your clit made one more word disappear like air. 

“So that means I get to taste it right?” He asked. He moved his nose against yours and you sighed, your pussy clenching around nothing. 

“Uh-huh,” you said, lips finding his again and again. His wet, suckling kisses made you see stars behind your eyelids. 

His knuckle nudged into your clit and you hissed, releasing the air in short bursts. “Oh, she a little excited,” he said.

“Oh shit,” you moaned. “Don’t tease me.” 

“Don’t tease you? I like teasing you. I finally know how to shut that attitude up,” he said.

“You too damn cocky,” you moaned. 

“Still running that mouth,” he said. He moved his fingers to dip in and out of your pussy, pushing his fingers deep to his knuckle. Your mouth dropped open, eyes turned bruising. 

He moved his lips to your jaw and kissed down to your neck. He sprinkled kisses across your chest and then licked your nipple into his mouth, suckling. “Oh my god,” you gasped, back lifting from the chair.

Your pussy greedily sucked his fingers inside. “That’s right. Grip them fingers. Show me you like what I��m doing to you. Getting wetter over here, I’m gon’ have to buy a new chair,” he whispered around your nipple.

Your hands came up to play with his locs, rolling them between your fingers and loving the feel of them. You were in sensory overload. Everything was too much and not enough. Lamont’s filthy words had you screaming towards a climax, thighs shaking and pussy gripping him tighter.

“That’s fuckin’ right. Been dyin’ to know what you look like when you cum. You gon’ look like that riding this dick? Huh? How many pretty faces can you make while I’m rearranging your guts?” He asked.

“Lamont!” You twitched. 

He continued to pump his fingers as you calmed down. It was like he was exploring your pussy with his fingers. Trying to gauge how deep you could take him. Your grip tightened around his neck and he hummed, flicking his tongue against your nipple.

When you relaxed against the chair, Lamont slowed down his fingers until stopping altogether. He licked his fingers and moaned. “Taste so fuckin’ good. You doing okay?” He asked.

You nodded, loosening your grip on his neck. You wiped up run away drool, feeling a bit embarrassed that a little finger action made you cum quicker than a man in a porn store. 

Lamont shook his head, shaking the locs from his face as he pressed his face into your pussy. He took a loud, deep breathe and blew air between your pussy lips.

“Oh shit!” You screamed, hands flying back to his head. You gripped his hair while he began to eat you out in earnest, using his tongue first. 

He leaned back and hummed, slapped your pussy. “Damn,” he moaned. “So fuckin’ good.” He was a messy eater, digging in like it was his last meal. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. He brought his hands up to roll your nipples between his fingers, squeezing and squeezing until he pinched them.

“Fuck, fuck. Lamont! Damn,” you moaned, biting your lip. Fuck! It felt too good. So damn good with his lips between your thighs and his locs tickling your skin, and your hands digging into his head. Smashing his face into your pussy, giving him free rein to explore this thing between you. 

“Name sound sexy on your lips. Say it again,” he said, coming up for a bite of air. 

“Lamont,” you said with a grin. His eyes flicked to yours while he continued to make out with your pussy.

“Again,” he said, muffled against your wet core. 

Lamont!” You moaned while your orgasm was cresting the surface. Pressure built in your lower belly, getting so close with each new flick. Each new lick. Each new moan that told you he liked what was between your thighs. The thought that you could please him, even by the small act of being wet for him, turned the tide.

Your hand flew back to the back of the chair to steady you while your back arched. “Oh shit, Lamont!” Your neck rolled against the top of the chair while your body twitched and convulsed. Your body turned limp, riding the orgasm wherever it took you. However you looked while you spasmed. 

“Tasting so fuckin’ good. Fuck, I been missing out,” Lamonst said into your pussy. He continued to lap like a cat to cream. “So fuckin’ sweet. So fuckin’ good.” 

He lumbered to his feet, tossing off his white shirt. His chain bounced against his dark skin. His tattoos were darker still, spread out all over his body. You watched him through slitted eyes while he unzipped his pants. 

He freed his dick and rubbed the hardened length. Shit, he was perfect. Big and girthy. It was always the skinniest niggas that packed the biggest punch. It had a slight curve to it and your pussy clenched just seeing it.

He dug into his pocket and grabbed his wallet, flipping it open and grabbing a condom. He tore it open, found the right side, and then pinched the tip. You watched him as he rolled it onto his dick, adjusting here or there until it was fully on.

He pushed your thighs back on the chair. It protested with a loud groan, conflicting with a different beat in the background. Something laid back, lazy, and slow. Light danced over his features while he leaned forward, towering over you bent like a pretzel in his chair.

“You feelin’ aiight?” He asked.

“Yes, nigga!” You said with a smack of your teeth. He chuckled, grabbing your throat with his left hand. Your eyes rolled involuntarily, hand flying to grab his wrist. Not to push him away, but to keep him there. To push for more pressure.

He obliged you, squeezing harder until you were ready to cum just from that. “You must need some dick to get you right,” he said. 

“Umph, yesss,” you moaned. 

He used his right hand to grip his dick and run it through your damp folds, getting the condom slick with your wetness. He pushed in slowly. You hissed, pushing against his thighs. 

“Uh-uh, don’t push me away. Move them hands,” he said.

“But Lamont–”

“Move. Them. Hands,” he growled, getting close to your face and squeezing your neck.

You moved your hands with a whine. He was too damn big. He rolled his hips, sliding inside of you and working his way deeper. Your hands flew back to his thighs, pushing at him.

“Move them fuckin’ hands,” he rasped. 

“Please,” you begged. You were going to pass out. There was too much pleasure. Too much desire and lust. Too much of him. His scent, his sighs, his scorching looks. He lit fires in your veins that made you whimper and pout.

“Move them fuckin’ hands right now,” he said.

Again, your hands slid away from his sweat-slick thighs with a whine. The sound was needy and desperate. You had no way of slowing this down. Slowing it down to a pace you could quickly adjust to.

His dick didn’t hurt, he just stretched you deliciously. So much so that you had a goofy smile spread across your lips like icing on a cake. You moved your hands back to his hand on your neck.

He rolled and moved his hips, stroking into you with deep, long thrusts at a steady pace that stole your breath. You whined, choppy hums in your throat. “Why you doin’ this to meeee,” you moaned. 

“‘Cause I been waiting too long to get in this pussy. I’ma enjoy that shit,” he said. He smirked and dropped down to kiss you while he stroked deeper still.

You sank onto his dick while he rolled his hips, moaning with every glide. He lifted his head and rolled his neck, closing his eyes. You watched his face while he stroked, watched as he found some type of groove like your body was the switchboard and he was making a complicated beat.

He lined up perfectly. Your back arched. “Oh fuck, oh fuck. Right there, right there, Lamont,” you moaned.

“Right there?” He asked. He kept hitting your sweet spot, not deviating in the slightest. 

“Right there, oh my god, I’m gon’ cum,” you moaned.

“Give it to me. Let me feel that pretty pussy grippin’ this dick. She feel so fuckin’ good. Wrapped around this dick. This what you needed? Huh? This what you needed? Them other niggas ain’t have all this for you, did they?”

Each of his questions grew fainter as your orgasm came closer and closer. Your hand pushed against his chest. Your eyes were too far in the back of your head. You were worrying a groove into your bottom lip by biting too hard. 

“You still with me? This dick got yo tongue?” He asked.

“I’m-” You came with a loud moan, louder than you had ever moaned before. You twitched in the chair, the groans from it sounded violent. “Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Feel so good, Lamont!” You cried out. Yelled out. 

It was a good thing that you were in a proper studio and there was no one around to hear you. Had you been at your place, your neighbors would know his fucking name. 

Your hands scratched at his stomach while he chuckled and kept stroking. “Fuck. You squeezin’ the fuck outta me. You ain’t trynna let me go, huh? Now that you know I know how to hit it right. What got you screaming. What got you moaning. What got you cummin’ on this dick like that,” he said. 

“Oh baby,” you moaned. 

“I’m baby now? What happened to my name?” He asked.

At this point, you didn’t know your own name. You clenched around his dick and he cursed, slamming into you one more time before you felt him twitch inside. You had an errant fantasy about him cumming inside you, spilling his fat load into you and then fucking it into you. 

You tucked that particular one to the back of your mind while Lamont dropped against you, loosening his grip around your throat. Your matching pants and gasps made the moment soft but fuzzy around the edges. Like when you first woke up from a good nap and didn’t know what year it was or what you were doing beforehand.

Lamont slipped out of you, stumbling back. He took off the condom, tied the ends, and threw it in the nearest trash can. He sat in own chair. He tucked himself back in but didn’t zip up his pants. 

You slowly lowered your legs from the chair, feeling thoroughly fucked out. You looked towards Lamont who was studying you in the same way. He smiled first. Your smile matched his as the gravity of what you just did sunk in. 

Sunk down deep into your bones. There was no going back from this. There was no way to pretend this didn’t exist. That he wasn’t just deep enough in your guts to still feel the lingering effects. You felt empty without him. 

“We wasted too much fuckin’ time,” he said softly. You nodded and licked your lips.

You tapped the tips of your fingers trying to reorient yourself. Bring yourself down to reality. The reality of you with Lamont. You smiled. “Let’s not waste anymore.”

You had sex again on his red, leather couch. Nasty, intense sex where his hands were back around your throat, he was stroking deep in your guts, and staring into your eyes while he continued to shatter your world over and over again. You grinned and giggled in between his nasty words and your faint pleas for mercy. 

You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but you were excited to find out.

THE END

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[archivomeow]

scars of the past.

worldwide issues || read on ao3 || writing masterlist

a/n: please read the warnings on this one! also i’m thinking about making this couple parts, so we’ll see.

description; you’re the new addition to the BAU team, after Derek Morgan left, Reid and Penelope hate your guts, but when you and Reid get paired up to visit the coroner’s office together he learns something about you, something you wanted to keep a secret and it changes the dynamic between the two od you.

warnings; mention of scars, sh, razor blades, swearing.

— THIS WORK IS NOT PROOFREAD!!

You were new to the team, when Agent Morgan left a spot opened and you got it, the excitement you felt was indescribable, you wanted this job forever and now it was your chance to become a profiler, to help the FBI, to meet other profilers. Your first day was rough, you were late and no one really talked with you except Emily, but you just shook it off as them being focused on the case, later on Jennifer also started to talk with you, you felt more comfortable knowing the two a little bit made you feel less alone and alienated.

The days passed fast and you had to admit the job wasn’t turning out how you imagined. You obviously were profiling, that part lived up to your, for a lack of better word, expectations. However the team wasn’t. You made two connections, you couldn’t even call that friendship. Jennifer and Emily tolerated you, they respected you and treated you with kindness, but the rest of the team was not a fan of you. Spencer always had an attitude when it came to you, as far as you noticed he gave it to no one else and no one defended you, except that one time where Emily had to stop him, because he was going too far.

Penelope treated you like air, like you didn’t exist and if she had to acknowledge your existence she did it as fast as she could, just so she can go back to pretending you don’t exist. It was crushing you. Every time you had to talk with Garcia or Reid the knot in your stomach tightened, it was there present all day long at work, but it was the worse when it came to those two. You knew there was another open spot for the BAU, that still remained empty and you wondered if another person would have to deal with this shit to and your heart just broke for them.

Since you joined the team you have solved one case so far, the way back on the jet was peaceful, everyone was exhausted and you just couldn’t wait to go home. Going home was your favourite time, drinking a glass of wine, catching up with your pet, watching TV, quite literally anything that would shift your focus from the terrible anxiety you were feeling, every fucking day at work.

Next day at work it shocked you to see more people around the table, you weren’t that surprised to see David Rossi, he took a time off because he got hurt during a mission, before you joined the BAU and you haven’t had the pleasure to meet him yet, but the other woman you didn’t recognise.

“Okay, so everyone is here. This Doctor Tara Lewis, she will be joining us on this case, alongside Rossi.” As Emily spoke, you glanced at Tara and smiled lightly as she looked at you, you felt at ease when she returned the smile.

On the other hand you ignored Reid, you could feel his eyes on you again, drilling a hole in your head.

You fucking hated this job.

The jet ride is always calm, not this time. David called shots this time and unknowingly of the situation put you with Reid, he wanted to protest, but David shut it down so he just glanced annoyed at you.

“What’s up with that?” Tara whispered to you, the two of you talked more, she noticed how disconnected you were from the team and when Emily mentioned you joined recently she felt at ease, knowing she wasn’t the only “outcast”.

“Great question, wish I knew…” You shrugged, you really didn’t know why Reid disliked you, but the problem was not on your end.

You and Reid were headed to the coroner’s office, to examine the victims bodies. The ride there was quiet, you didn’t know what to say and he said nothing.

You listened to his observations about the wounds, the two of you examined the body. What stood out to you were the scars on the women’s arms, you knew those very very well, you had the same ones on your shoulder. It was warm, but as long as you could you wore long sleeves, so only you knew for now.

“Hm.. Those scars, are they fresh? Was it a knife or another weapon?” Reid looked up at the coroner, but before he could speak you answered his question.

“Razor blade.” You just stated, but the silence made you glance both at Reid and at the coroner. “Um… Those are razor blade scars… They’re deep, but still narrow, a knife could do it, but probably not with this much precision.”

Reid looked back at the coroner and the man just nodded.

“Yeah, your partner here is right. These are most likely from razor blades, those scars are about a month old, most likely not connected to the UnSub, but both women had similar scars in different stages of healing.”

You two left in silence, but the ride back was not silent. You jumped up when he spoke at first, no radio and a quiet street combined with his speaking out of nowhere scared you.

“Sorry, what did you say?” You cleared your throat, he was focused on the road, very focused, his eyebrows were frowned and his brown eyes looking ahead as he repeated what he said before.

“I asked about what you said at the coroner’s office. The razor blades.”

You frowned, that was not the hole you wanted to dig under yourself. “What about them?”

“How did you know so fast?”

He knew? Did he? He was a genius, but you weren’t sure, that didn’t stop your mind from racing with no proof. Can you lie to a profiler?

Your chest started to feel heavy, an imaginary pressure was applied to it, your lungs were heavy as if filled with sand, you could feel how your heart sped up and how the temperature of your body rose up.

“I- um… I just did…” You managed to mumble out, fucking anxiety, you were a terrible liar, even worse under pressure.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, so you prayed he let the topic go.

“You clean now?” He glanced at you and back at the road.

That question made you want to jump out of the moving car, that was in fact not his business and you truly didn’t want the team to know, what’s in the past is meant to stay there. You didn’t know what to say to that, you opted on being a bitch untill he drops the topic.

“That is so not your fucking business… And who even said I- I did that.” You scoffed looking out the window.

You’re okay… You’re okay…

You kept repeating in your head that fucking phrase, but you were in fact not okay.

“Well, you do wear long sleeves always and in this weather you must be hot… Your eyes immediately focused on the scars at the coroner’s office… You knew the blade, you can know everything in theory, but you were sure of it… You pretty much told on yourself….But if it’s not you, then it’s someone close to you.”

Fucking profilers.

“Just focus on the road.” You said firmly, you did tell on yourself, especially when you claimed it was “none of his business”. That didn’t matter now, you couldn’t say anything to go back. He was right, but you didn’t want him to know, not him, not anyone. It was definitely too late now.

#criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #angst #hurt no comfort #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #tw sh related #tw sh implied #tw sh mention #self h@rm

[moonstruckme]

I love your works! If you're willing, can you write something about tasm!Peter just like finding out about reader's sh scars? I'm not sure if you've done this already or not and I'm going through a tough time so I just really want some Peter comfort 😭. If you're not comfortable that's totally understandable! Please don't feel pressured to do this ❤️

Thank you sweetheart, I really hope your tough time is getting a bit easier or does soon <33

cw: past self-harm

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 775 words

Maybe it’s a good thing that you’re comfortable enough around Peter to forget. Even though you’ve only been dating a few months, you feel (sappily) like you’ve known him for years. You just fit together. Going over to his place is like going to your parents’ house or your best friend’s; it’s already home for you, comfy and welcoming in a way that usually only comes with history. Peter feels like he was yours before you met him. 

That sense of familiarity is probably why you don’t think to be self-conscious. It’s the first day of the year that New York is warm enough to go out without a jacket, and you’re celebrating with a short-sleeved top and a skirt. Both thin and airy, perfect for the day you’ve planned at the park. Peter’s packing your lunches when you step out of the bedroom, feeling very cute. 

Your confidence is rewarded. Peter grins, mouth dropping open coyly, and whistles when you do a little twirl for him. 

“I’m gonna have to play interference between you and other guys all day,” he says, not sounding particularly unhappy about the prospect as he passes you your water bottle. “I filled this up so we have more than just soda, that okay?” 

“Good idea.” You nod, taking it and putting it in your bag. 

You look back up, and somehow your boyfriend’s mood has changed in the space of a second. A furrow has appeared between his brows, eyes stuck on where your arm brushes against the fabric of your skirt at your side. 

“What’s…” His brows twitch and he holds a hand out. “Can I see your arm?” 

You give it to him unthinkingly, an awkward sort of foreboding taking root in your gut. Peter holds it with extreme gentleness, rotating it so the delicate skin of your forearm is exposed to the light. It’s only then that you remember he might not know. His quiet inhale confirms it. 

“Sweetheart…” His thumb brushes over the scar nearest, and you can practically see his mind flashing through memories of long sleeves, dark nights in his bed, the way you’d insisted on changing in the bathroom when you’d first started staying over. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, though you’re not sure what for. For upsetting him, maybe. Even though it was inevitable. Honestly, your closeness with Peter had almost made you forget he hadn’t already seen them. He’s got to be the last person in your small circle of family and friends who hadn’t known. You’re not secretive about that part of your past. You blame it on the timing of your relationship; you’d started dating when the weather got cold, and it had just never come up. 

“You don’t need to be sorry,” he says softly, an automatic response to your chronic over-apologizing. “Can I just…can I ask when this happened?” 

“It was a long time ago,” you reassure him. “I haven’t done it for years.” 

His brown eyes flit up from your arm to meet yours. “Have you wanted to?” 

Your breath gets caught in your lungs. You hold his gaze. “Not for a while.” 

He exhales slowly, nodding. It feels odd to have your arm handled this gently. Peter’s always so kind with you, but the way he’s touching you now…it’s like he thinks the skin will break again if he’s not careful. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

You make a quiet, demurring sound. “For what?” 

“Just that I wasn’t there. I don’t like the idea of you hurting without me.” 

“Pete.” Your voice is gentle, chiding. “We didn’t even know each other back then.” 

“Exactly.” He releases your arm, hand moving to cup your face. “I just wish I’d known you, that’s all.” 

His eyes are soft on yours, unasking. Fond in a way that makes your throat clog. “You don’t have to worry about me,” you say. 

“I like worrying about you.” His mouth tilts upward, cupid’s bow stretching. “But if you don’t want me to worry about this, I won’t. Just…you’d tell me if anything changed, right?” 

“I would,” you say, relieved. His thumb strokes your cheek, and you lean forward, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Thanks, Pete.” 

“For what?” He echoes your question from earlier, grin widening as he ducks down to press his lips to yours again. “I love you,” he mumbles, pecking playfully at your top lip, “so much.” He plants another where your cheek dimples. “You know that?” 

“Yeah.” You push up on your toes, backing him into the counter as your hand cups the back of his neck. The hair at his nape tickles your fingertips. “Yeah, I know.”

#tasm!peter parker #tasm!spiderman #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x fem!reader #tasm!peter parker x y/n #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker x self insert #tasm!peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter parker fanfic #tasm!peter parker fic #tasm!peter parker fluff #tasm!peter parker angst #tasm!peter parker hurt/comfort #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker blurb #tasm!peter parker drabble #tasm!peter parker scenario #tasm!peter parker one shot #tasm!peter parker oneshot #the amazing spiderman fanfiction #the amazing spiderman #the amazing spiderman fandom #tw sh related #tw self h4rm

[ratcash-wasgud]

Hihi! Hope you are having a great day, but I had an idea/request for a modern mizu headcanons or fic? or a mix of both? I've been having a rough week, and dealing with some sh. i know this can be triggering for some, so don't write it if it's too much, but I'd really appreciate maybe a modern mizu x struggling or sh reader? and mizu does what she can to help reader feel better and keep reader safe from harming themselves? i hope this is okay! xoxo

hey lovely! no, no, this is actually so valid. i love this idea.

TW tho, as obvious, self harm and mention of suicide.

I hope you enjoy this one.

"...Hey, you...you okay?" Mizu steps into the bathroom, her face draining of color. She noticed how different you were acting these past weeks;

Randomly going silent during conversations, refusing to make eye contact with anyone, or biting you lips and picking at your skin violently...

But she'd never thought she'd see this. You, the love of her life, the one she'd die if she lost, the only one keeping her sane, standing or...hunching over in front of the bathroom sink, blood trickling and dripping everywhere, and your eyes looking back at her.

She's frozen. She doesn't know what to do. She doesn't know what would be right to do in this situation. Should she comfort you? Do you even want her comfort right now?

But all those questions flee her mind the moment your lips start trembling, your eyes narrow and fill up with tears, your nose scrunching up in a sniffle. "I...I'm sorry."

Mizu doesn't hesitate to basically jump away from the door and rush to hug you, not caring about the blood getting on her clothes. "It's okay...it's okay." She whispers it like a mantra in your ear. "Everything's fine...I'm here, you're here. We're here...i promise everything's fine."

After that, she sat on the bathroom floor with you until you calmed down, stroking your back while whispering the same, calming things in your ear.

When you calmed down, Mizu bandaged up your arms in silence after cleaning them up. She made sure to be gentle, not wanting to touch any cuts directly, but putting enough pressure on them to stop the bleeding. She didn't dare to look into your eyes while she did it, but when she was done, she leaned down to gently kiss the bandages.

She didn't ask anything, as she didn't know what to ask, or if she can even ask anything. She was just...worried. Worried more than anything.

She then silently led you to the bed, cuddled up behind you, and waited for the similar sound of your breathing slowing down as you fell asleep.

She couldn't sleep for a couple hours more tho. She stayed up, eyes closed, face burried into the warmth of your neck from behind.

You're warm. You're still here.

The next morning, she woke up before you, preparing coffee like she always does for you. When you came out to the kitchen, your eyes sleepy and the bandages still tight on your arms, Mizu gathered up all her strength.

"...can you tell me why?" She asks, her voice low and quiet. You looked at her for a couple moments, before sitting down at the kitchen table.

You started talking about your family backround, how school and work combined stress you out, how you don't like looking at yourself in the mirror. Mizu knew she was the one asking, but she hated hearing it, because she felt powerless.

But even if she felt that way, she was determined. She'll somehow make it better for you.

She spent the next day, thinking about ways to help you get more comfortable with yourself.

She started drawing small cats and bugs on your bandages when she changed them, to make you not want to throw up when you see them.

She stole your lipstick to make a kissmark on the mirror, to exactly where your forehead is in height, so everytime you look in the mirror, you get "kissed".

And she came up with this genius idea to bug a huge pack of stickers, and give you one for every day you stay clean.

She knew it wasn't much.

But to you it meant the world.

#blue eye samurai #bes mizu #blue eye samurai mizu #mizu x reader #blue eye samurai x reader #bes x reader #mizu fanfic #fanfiction #sh comfort

[finntheehumaneater]

⭐️Radio Star⭐️ (part 2)

(Part one) (part three)

(TW: brief mentions of blood and Self-Harm)

Vickie was late. Very late. And Steve wasn’t one to jump to conclusions (okay, maybe he was) but he was pretty sure she wasn’t coming. Robin was slouched over in the chair, her head in her hands, the cat—which Eddie had come over to tell her it’s name (Ozzy) earlier—was curled up in her lap. Steve knew she was crying by the way her shoulders shook slightly and her fingers were all curled up, but he didn’t say anything because there were more people in the shop now and he didn’t want to embarrass her.

“This is just great,” She muttered, her voice strangled. “This is just fucking great.”

“Language.” Steve said back, and she looked all fuzzy now, making him have to squint hard to see her. He was getting worse, but he wasn’t going to admit that. Her head moved up and he opened his eyes again, looking away. 

“Steve —“

“I’ll be fine in a few minutes, just—give me a second.” He whispered, standing up and grabbing onto the chair. He needed another drink. 

There was a line this time, and he bumped into a few people on the way there, which made his insides twist into knots, because fuck, maybe Robin was right? Maybe he did need glasses, and he’d just have to suck it up and deal with it.

When he finally got to the front, everything was all just shapes and colors, and his ears were ringing, and fuck he felt dizzy, his head spinning. Everything was quiet and fuzzy, and there was someone in front of him talking, but it was quiet and distorted.

He placed his hands on the counter and felt himself slump over slightly, his breaths feeling heavy in his chest, quick and hard. There was a hand on his shoulder and he felt himself flinch away, but it was like he was floating outside of his body, looking down at himself, and all he could see were hazy blurry shapes. It was like he wasn’t ever there.

Then the hand was back and he leaned into it, despite himself, and the thing stuttered slightly, before he felt another one at his elbow, and he was being shuffled forward. “Robin?” He muttered, trying to lift his head up fully, but he felt like falling to the floor and just fucking melting. Why was there always something wrong with him? 

The person said something back, but their hands were rough and their fingers were long and thin, and some parts felt cold and hard against him, so it probably wasn’t Robin. He felt the back of his knees bump into a chair and he sat down blindly, his eyes squeezed shut so that he would stop nearly throwing up from the spinning colors and lights. He nearly fell over sideways, but the hands hauled him back up and into the chair properly, and then there was another set of hands on him, softer and more gripping then the first pair. That was probably Robin. He felt bad for the other person—the poor stranger who had to help him stumble over to his table while he put all of his weight on them and barely moved his feet.

After a few moments of peace, Robin’s hands wrapped around him and his face pressed against her shoulder, her hair in his face. It smelled like the conditioner he used. That’s what he got for leaving it in the shower instead of putting it back in the cabinet.

“You used my shampoo,” He mumbled, trying to push himself away from her, because she really shouldn’t have to be dealing with this on top of feeling shitty about Vickie not showing, but she held him firmly against her chest and scoffed out a laugh, her voice more clear and recognizable since she was practically speaking into his ear. 

“That’s what you’re worried about right now, Dingus?” She muttered, her fingers twisting and tugging anxiously at the hair on the back of his neck, and it was probably ruining the look—since he had spent an hour doing it, even though it wasn’t his date—but it was fine. As long as it stopped her from pinching bruises into her arms, he could deal with having slightly messed up hair—even if that thought made his skin crawl.

It took a while, but eventually the world stopped spinning, and maybe it was Robin’s constant panicked rambling that was helping ground him, as she went on and on about how this wasn’t really that bad compared to the time that a friend from when she was younger passed out at a basketball court and lost her vision and hearing for two weeks, and she still needs glasses and hearing aids even now, and—

“Robin,” He said, pushing himself up and rubbing his eyes, the room finally holding still long enough for him to focus on her face for a moment or two before he closed his eyes again. “I’m okay now. And I’m sorry that happened to Kayla, but I'm okay. It won’t happen to me.”

He hated hearing her talk like that, because that’s how she rambled when she was scared, and it reminded him of those hours sitting alone in the dark and bleeding, asking her to just talk to me to try and stop her from sobbing, because she was going to get dehydrated soon and he didn’t know the next time they were going to get water. Or food. And she did talk—about everything and anything. She told him that her favorite color was yellow, and that she really liked sharks, and that maybe if they ever got out and he still wanted to be friends he could drive her to her favorite aquarium in Indy—because she also confessed that she had never gotten her license—so that she could show him her favorite tank with the stingrays in it.

They hadn’t gone yet, but they had tried a few times. It always ended with one of them freaking out—because they were still kids, and not even grown-ass people are good at dealing with traumatic memories. Okay, they were both 20, but still. That was young. To young to have gone through the shit that they had fucking been through. They both had scars, and neither of them liked to talk about it. Even after two years of being told that they would “heal” over time, the marks were still there, white-hot and dark and dripping blood down their arms and their chests and their legs. 

Sometimes Steve would re-open them, but he didn’t do that very much anymore—not after Robin had found out why he still bled, knew all along but just didn’t know how to ask, and had told him to let her know when he got that bad again.

“—eve? Steven?” Robin was tapping his cheek gently with her fingers. “Did you OD over there?” She was trying to make a joke, but there was concern in her voice.

“I’m…no, no. Just thinking,” He said, laughing lightly, but there was no humor behind it. “I’m alright.”

“You keep saying that, but you’re not. Don’t lie to me,” She whispered, taking his hand in hers and squeezing gently, the lone ring on her middle finger cold against him. Was that what he had felt? But then why did the hands feel so rough? Calloused? Maybe it was all in his head. Everything seemed to be, these days.

“I am. I’m okay, Bobby,” He lies again, looking around once he can finally see everything normally again. His eyes meet Eddie’s over the counter, who looks concerned, but drops the face once he notices Steve looking at him—just giving him a shrug and a blank expression before turning to smile at the young woman at the front of the counter who’s ordering.

Steve doesn’t know why that stings in his chest, but it does—something sharp and aching as he watched Eddie flirt with the girl. So he does that with all of his customers. It wasn’t a special thing. Not that he wanted it to be, of course, he totally doesn’t care about this.

He and Robin just sit there for a while, her fingers tracing lines over his palm as she talks quietly about something that he’s not really comprehending fully. She had told him he should rest for a bit so that he won’t crash the car when they drive home. She still hasn’t gotten her license yet.

After a half-an-hour, Robin was still talking, and Steve wanted nothing more than to just go home and sleep, even though it wasn’t really that late in the day yet, but then someone off to his side cleared his throat. Robin shut up and he looked over at—oh. Eddie.

“Hey.” Steve said, his voice breaking slightly from being quiet for so long, but he didn’t really feel embarrassed about it. He had a lot to be embarrassed about right now, really. His hair was a mess, and his eyes were tired and his skin was too pale with the scars on his arms poking out from underneath the sleeves of his shirt.

“Hey,” Eddie whispered back, looking down. “I just…how are you feeling?” He looked hesitant, and his cheeks were flushed.

“Fine,” Steve muttered, words short and clipped—like he was angry, but he wasn’t. “I’m fine. Sorry you had to see that. I’m just—tired.”

“Thanks,” Eddie mutters, almost absentmindedly, and Steve felt himself flinch slightly, because fuck, that was meant to be polite and not an actually fucking apology. Did Eddie really mind that much? Maybe Steve really was just a fucking inconvenience.

Eddie’s head snapped up and his cheeks went even more red. “Shit, I—sorry, sorry. It’s fine. It’s okay, I—you’re pretty light, so it really wasn’t any trouble,” He was rambling now, and as upset as Steve was in the moment, it was kind of adorable (fuck, he really needed to stop thinking shit like that). “Again, I—I tend to not think before I speak, so. Yeah.” His voice got quiet at the end, and he did really look apologetic about it, so Steve straightened up and shrugged, giving him a short, small smile.

“It’s fine, man. Don’t worry about it. I get it.” He glanced over at Robin, confused about the comment on him being light. Robin paused for a moment, and then gave him a confused look back, which he took to mean, why are you looking at me?

Steve sighed and looked back at Eddie. “We should go,” and then shot a pointed look at Robin, who shot him a mocking one back, looking slightly disappointed—for what, he wasn’t sure—and then helped him up. He could walk fine on his own, now, but she still hovered near him as he grabbed her green knit sweater with the little yellow star in the front that she must have taken off earlier.

Robin snatched it back from him and cradled it to her chest. “Don’t touch my stuff.”

Steve only rolled his eyes and said a quick goodbye to Eddie before walking out of the building as fast as he could without tripping or bumping into something. He was fumbling with the car keys when he heard Eddie tell Robin that they were welcome back any time, to which she replied, “Oh, yes, I will be coming back for Ozzy.” Before patting Eddie’s shoulder and following after Steve.

Once they were both in the car, he started it and sighed.

Robin was glaring out the window for the entire ride home, and Steve had no idea why. He turned the music on, and she slapped his hand away, turning it off again.

“Why didn’t you get his number?” She snapped, now glaring at him instead of off into space.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Robs. Just let me focus on driving.” He gripped the steering wheel tighter, his hands shaking slightly as he kept his eyes on the road. “I know you’re upset about Vickie, but you don’t have to take it out on me. We can watch that shark documentary you like when we get home and I’ll make you some tea, okay?”

“Fine,” she mumbled, ducking her head down slightly as she tried to pull her sweater over herself around the seatbelt. He ended up stopping on the side of the road so that she could unbuckle and do it before they kept driving home.

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(If you want updates on this, and don’t want to be tagged, you can follow the tag “Radio Star by Finn” or just follow my blog ⭐️)

Hallo! Thanks for being patient with this bit!! I honestly don’t know how long I made you guys wait, because I have a horrible concept of time, but to me it feels like forever—and for you guys it might have only been a day or two. But regardless! IF YOU SAW ANY MISTAKES, NO YOU DIDN’T. I DON’T HAVE A BETA FOR THIS I JUST WRITE AND POST.

if you would like to be tagged, let me know in the comments! Also, feel free to also comment you thoughts, or send me an ask, because I really like answering things!

I hope you guys enjoyed this ⭐️

Taglist:

@strangersteddierthings @an-atlas-or-other @aol19 @randombibitch @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @stillfullofshit @steventhusiast @estrellami-1 @jaytriesstuff

if I missed anyone, please let me know and I’ll add you to the google doc with the taglist!!!!

also, people who I think might be interested (let me know if you don’t want me to tag you):

@absolutegremlin (I think you reglogged part one of this? Either way I meant to tag you in the first part lmao, sorry about that…)

@itsthestrangestthings (I think you followed me on your sideblog…? Maybe? But I didn’t want to tag that and have it not actually be you, so. Yeah.)

#Radio Star by Finn #THIS WAS FUN TO WRITE #I was listening to Leith Ross by Ethel Cain the whole time and asdfghjkl #I had a great time #TW mentions of blood #TW mentions of SH #Robin Buckley #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #Steve Harrington fan fiction #Robin Buckley fanfiction #Steve Harrington fan fic #Robin buckely facfic #Eddie Munson fanfic #steve harrrington fic #Eddie Munson fic #Robin Buckley fic #platonic stobin #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #my writing #my fic

[romanarose]

Used

Marc Spector x GN!reader

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Moon Knight masterlist

Summary: Marc and you enjoy rough sex, but when Marc asks you to try something new, it quickly goes downhill.

Warnings and Content: reverences to BDSM, Dom/sub, whipping with a belt, Marc's abusive childhood, references to self-harm in the past, mention of self-harm scars, just.... a lot of talk about self-harm. Misuse of BDSM. Breach of trust in a D/s dynamic, miscommunication. This isn't meant to be a perfect or even good D/s relationship or relationship in general. this is a relationship that is struggling right now. Don't look to fanfiction for sex and relationship advice. Marc is self-destructing, reader isn't the best at handling it but the are trying. Lots of crying lmfao. If I miss anything LMK but really this is a proceed at your own caution situation as I've at least laid out the basic themes.

Immersability: Marc can pick up reader. I think that's it? I usually write Fem!reader but there really wasn't a reason to make this fem so I put GN!reader this time. If I accidentally fem coded something lmk.

*****************

“Are you ready to talk about it?”

Marc looked up from his food he had barely eaten. You’d made him his favorite: chicken strips and fries. Marc was a picky eater due to his sensory issues so you were happy to have simple little meals when Marc was fronting for dinner. He’d been absent for a few days, only fronting when Steven and Jake insisted. You’d been worried, after all. The last night you and Marc had together hadn’t ended well, and you wanted to talk to him.

*

“That’s it, I’m calling it.” You said, climbing off the back of Marc’s legs that you had been stradling and quickly pulled on your robe.

“I- what?” The panic in Marc’s voice was evident. You and Marc… liked things rough, but unlike you and Jake, it was you who was the dominant in this dynamic. You and Marc had been doing things like this for a while, clearly defined boundaries and safewords and communication had made a smooth going of things. Marc had been having a bit of a tough time lately so you had stuck to regular love-making, but tonight he had come to you with a request to try something new. He wanted you to use a belt on him.

“Something’s wrong, Marc.”

His face was still in the mattress, face down, but lift enough to speak without looking at you. “I didn’t use the safeword?” It was more a question than a statement.

“Well, I am. Red, on your behalf.” You weren’t super into the idea of using a belt on him, but you weren’t uncomfortable, and since it was something he wanted, you decided to give it a try. Pretty quickly, you didn’t think it was going to happen again but you intended on seeing it through. Marc usually whimpered and yelped during sex, but you could tell his pleasure even still… something told you this was different. This was wrong. He didn’t use his safe word, but he didn’t need to. You knew him.

“I’m fine-”

“Turn over” You instruct, and when he doesn’t you nudge him over gently. Your heart hurts at the tears in his eyes, but his boxer briefs tell you what you suspected. His erection was gone. “Marc…”

Immediately, his lip quivers, breath shaky and he sputters out apologies and you remember your job. It’s not to chastise him, not to question him. Not right now. Right now you need to take care of him.

First was reassurance. “Hey, hey baby,” You cup his face. “It’s okay, you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Second was always his weighted blanket. He didn’t usually sleep with it, so you kept it under the bed for any time he needed the pressure.

Third depended. If he needed anything medical or was hurt, that was next, but you didn’t think what you had done was too bad (your hesitant actions didn’t lead to anything harsh and you had been researching and reaching out to others on how to do this correctly.). Right now, Marc needed to calm down. With tears wetting his cheeks and his anxiety over thinking he ruined the scene, he needed reassurance next. 

“Can I lay with you?” You ask as you tuck the blanket over him the way he likes. When he nodded, you lie down beside him. “The usual?” He nodded again, and you place yourself how you usually did. You lay on his chest, arms holding him, right leg bent over his, adding to the weight of the blanket.

“You didn’t do a thing wrong, Marc. You were perfect, this is me, okay? My choice to end it.”

You stay like that for a while before asking to check his back when his breathing was normal. He nodded again and you knew he wasn’t going to be talking the rest of the night. That was okay, you knew how to communicate without words. Marc rolls over, and you see you were correct; not much as far as wounds. You ice him and gently rub aloe vera ointment over the small welts. Once that was done, you help him in dressing in his most comfortable pj’s and resume your previous position until he fell asleep.

You woke up to Steven that morning.

*

“Talk about what?” Marc tried to deflect, but you cocked your head to the side and raised your eyebrows.

“The other night, Marc. We need to talk about it.”

He avoided your eyes again and mumbled. “I wasn’t the one who safworded.”

You couldn’t help but sigh. “Marc, honey, please? I wanna talk about it so I know what I did wrong-”

His eyes flicked up, his tone harsher than you were used to. “Only thing you did wrong was safeword.”

Taken aback, you feel your chest tightening with anxiety at the argument bubbling. You want to dial it back, but the implication of his words hurt. “Marc… I’m allow to use the safe word too”

Immediately he looked regretful. “No- that’s not what I meant, fuck, sorry…” You gave him a second to regain his thoughts. “I just meant you shouldn’t have done it for me.”

You soften, understanding what he meant. “Baby, you were clearly uncomfortable, and that makes me uncomfortable.” 

“I was fine!” He snapped, yelling at you and you see it right away when Jake takes over. “Lo siento, amor.”

“It’s okay, Jake.” But it was clear that his shouting hurt your feelings.

“He shouldn’t yell at you like that.” Jake began eating the chicken. One thing about Jake is he’s going to take care of Marc, and that includes eating when Marc won’t.

“We’ve been… going through a little bit of a rough patch…” You conceded, admitting it to yourself for the first time. The last month with Marc had been hard. He was drifting, and you couldn’t figure out how to stop it. 

“It’s not you. He loves you very much.”

“I know he does, I love him.”

“I know.” Jake stuffed his mouth full of chicken. “I told him it wasn’t a good idea to reenact his moms abuse, but he never listens to me.”

That caught your attention. “Wait, what?” You weren’t stupid. You knew his enjoyment of rough sex probably had something to do with his childhood, but Marc didn’t divulge much other than his mom physically abused him.

“Oh great, Marc’s yelling at me now, I guess he never told you his mom whipped-” Marc took the body back. “SHUT UP!” He screamed with eyes pinched shut. You sat in silence until they opened again. When he saw you looking at him with wide eyes, he spoke quietly. “Sorry, I didn’t think… I didn’t realize I was in control again…”

“It’s okay…” You whisper. “Marc… what was Jake gonna say.”

Marc sighed, closing his eyes I think you know.

You did, but you wanted him to say it.

“Marc?” Your voice was shaking and seemed so distant from you as you slowly realized what happened, what he had done. What he had made you do.

“She whipped me with a belt.” Marc’s face was deadset, the look he gave when he was trying so hard not to show emotion, but the heavy rise and fall of his chest always gave it away.

You stand up suddenly. “Marc…” stepping backwards as Marc stands with you, you try to get distance  from him, disgust with yourself permeating your bones.

“Marc…”

“Baby, it’s not what you think-” He held out his hand to calm you but your body began to curl in on itself, horrified as you wrap your arms around your waist.

“Were you using me to self harm?”

Horror washed over his face. “No! No that’s not it!”

“But you were! You were using me to hurt yourself, to punish yourself! That’s sick, Marc! Sick!” You couldn’t believe he’d made you an accomplice in his battle against himself.

“It’s not like that, I swear!”

“Making me into your mother, Marc? How could you use me like that?” The tears were welling in your eyes, hurt and self-loathing swelling your thoughts. 

“Baby…” Marc looked like he was about to cry himself. “It’s not- it’s not that big a deal…” Marc always tried to down play, to refuse help, to refuse to admit when something he’d done hurt you. Not because he didn’t think he was wrong. Marc always thought he was in the wrong. No, it was because he didn’t think he was worth crying over.

“YES IT IS!” In a fit of frustration, you reach for the kitchen knife. Marc didn’t jump, didn’t startle. He knew whatever you were doing, you wouldn’t hurt him. You give him the handle and hold out your wrist. “Cut me.”

He looked as confused as he was horrified. “Wha-”

“Cut me!” A litany of scars riddles your wrist, he knew what asking him to add to it meant.

“No!” Marc set the knife down far away from you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into him in concern. “Baby, why would I do that?” He kissed the scars., speaking softly now as you cried freely. “C’mon, your scaring me… are you having urges to hurt yourself again?”

Classic Marc, always more worried about you. “N-o,” You stammer, crying hard as Marc pulls you into a hug. “That’s the point! You’-d-d-d never help me hurt myself, why would you ask me to hurt you like that?” You are crying, legs shaking and you don’t feel you can keep standing.

Marc sinks to the floor with you, holding you close and crying with you. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.” He held you in his arms for a while until you started to calm down. When you were no longer shaking, Marc lifted you up, carrying you to your bedroom.

First, he reassured you. “You didn’t do anything wrong, baby girl. It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.”

Next was the weighted blanket. It was a gift from you to the boys, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t sleep under it sometimes.

“Can I lay with you?” He asked, and when you nodded, too tired to speak, he crawled under the blanket with you. “The usual?” You consented, and Marc wrapped you up tight in his arms, leg draped over yours in extra comfort.

Lastly, he whispered more assurances in your ear.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“I shouldn’t have done that to you.”

“Rest, we’ll talk about it later.”

“Everything is going to be alright.”

And you knew it would be. It always would be between you four. Marc just needed help, and he needed to let you help.

Rough sex was out for now. If you couldn’t trust him to use the safe word, you wouldn’t be putting him or yourself in that position. Slowly, Marc opened up and let you, Steven and Jake in, and slowly things got better. It took time, to be sure, and a lot of work on both your parts to repair the trust that was broken, but you loved Marc and Marc loved you.

In the end, Marc was right. Everything was okay.

***************

angsty marc overwhelmingly won my poll. yall like to see a pretty boy cry, huh?

@moonknightly this is the fic i was brainstorming months ago that hurt you so bad lol

@whatthefishh @missdictatorme @ahookedheroespureheart @eyelessfaces @campingwiththecharmings @runa-falls @fandxmslxt69 @k-ra @ivystoryweaver @steven-grants-world @littlenosoul @mikaelak @stevenandmarcslove @pikapuff-316 @del-ightfulling @faretheeoscar @boysddontcry

#marc spector #marc spector x reader #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #moon knight #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight angst #marc spector angst #marc spector hurt comfort #hurt comfort #angst #smut #marc spector x you #marc spector moon knight #jake lockley #moon knight x reader #tw self harm #tw sh #self destructive

[wrotethisat12]

Old habits

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader

request:

Hiya! Is it possible for you to do a y/n x Natasha where y/n sometimes gets teased by her teammates as a joke . The result for that is that she ends up throwing up what they eat this started at a young age aswell so its like a relapse ❣️

can you include Natasha also seeing sh scars and she gets worried but y/n has been clean for a while so they tell her that.

Thank you!

Length: medium?

Tw: pûrg!ng, mentions of past s3lf harm, eat1ng d1sorders, mention of fire (metaphorically), ummm a comment about somebody’s ass at the beginning too.

this can be interpreted as either platonic or romantic, I didn’t specify the relationship. Not proofread.

please if you ever feel like this I have open dms and open arms I’m here for you, please find some help.

“Ooh, you’ve got some ass to grab, L/n!”

You tried to hide your flinch. They don’t know. They didn’t mean it. Calm down. You kept running, ignoring the comment of your teammate, who was sitting on the edge of the field with sweaty hair and a Nalgene water bottle. I am beautiful. I am healthy. I am loved. You repeated the affirmations that your therapist, Miriam, had taught you.

By the time you had finished your laps, most of the burning wildfire in your head from the comment was gone. You sat down next to your teammates and laughed with them, drinking your water.

“Hey.” Natasha, a fiery redhead, had finished her laps and sat down next to you. The two of you had never been close, having just met each other this year, but she seemed pretty nice. You turned towards her.

“Guess I beat you this time,” you said.

“this time.”

when the rest of the team finished running, one of you ordered pizza, and you all ate it next to the field.

nononono don’t- you took a bite of it, eyes nervously glancing around to see if anybody had noticed your struggle.

No one. Good.

after dinner, you took your time in the locker room, making sure that you were the last to leave. Before you left, you went into one of the bathroom stall and, as quietly as you could, rid your body of its dinner.

———

Nat’s pov:

through the rest of the week, Natasha noticed a change in you. You could never finish your laps before her, often ending last, you avoided everybody, and you always left last. She was beyond worried.

one night, she decided to stay late to see what was happening. She stood on the toilet seat of the far right stall, where no one ever went because of an unsavory amount of spiders, and peeked through the crack. She saw you step out of a shower and walk into a stall. Then, after a minute or two, she heard gagging noises.

Oh no. She realized what you were doing and the blood drained from her face. She rushed into your stall, which you had not bothered to close. Powerless to stop you, she kneeled behind you and hers your hair back, a hand on your shaking back.

Your pov:

this had become a routine. Soccer, dinner, food, purge. This Friday, as usual, you had done the regular pattern, and now you were here, bent over the toilet again.

a hand pulled your hair away from your face and then a matching one settled on your back. Who the fu- when you were done, you pulled your head away from the toilet shakily.

a pair of green eyes looked at you, forehead tight-knit with worry. Natasha grabbed a piece of toilet paper and wiped off your mouth. After that, you leaned against the side of the stall. Natasha did the same, wrapping her arm around your body, which was still shaking.

“so… you wanna tell me what’s going on?” Natasha asked.

“I… I did this a lot, back in middle school and high school. But my parents found out when I was fifteen, and they made me go to therapy. I got better. But now…”

“so… what happened?”

“Carol and Maria… you know how they kind of hit on everyone on the team?”

Natasha nodded.

“so…” your cheeks heated up from embarrassment and shame. “They made a comment about… me having more butt than I used to…” tears started to slip from your eyes, and you expected Natasha to walk away.

surprisingly, she did no such thing. She pulled you into her chest, where you sobbed unapologetically.

When you were done, you sat up straight again.

“I’m taking you out to dinner,” Natasha told you, “and you’re gonna stay with me the whole time after, okay?”

you nodded and stood up to wash your hands and rinse out your mouth. When you reached the sink, you rolled up your sleeves.

you heard a gasp from Natasha. She ran over to you and made you sit down on a bench by the lockers.

“are these new?!” She asked, gently holding your forearms in her soft hands. “Please, are you cutting yourself?” Her hands were shaking, as well as her voice.

“Don’t worry, Nat. I’m not cutting, I’ve been clean for two years now.” You hugged her.

“Okay… thank god… and I’m proud of you. For two years. My sister had a struggle with self harm, and… it was really bad, to see her like that.”

“I understand… I promise, Nat, I’ll try to get better.”

you washed your hands, picked a restaurant, and drove off in Natty’s car.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x female #Natasha Romanoff x fem reader #marvel fanfiction #tw sh in tags #tw ed in tags #self h@rm #tw s3lf harm #marvel sh fic #natasha romanoff sh #natasha romanoff sh comfort fic #natasha romanoff sh fic #natasha Romanoff x reader sh #Natasha Romanoff x reader ed #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff ed fic #Natasha Romanoff ed #sh fic #sh comfort fic #tw mia #Ed fic #ana and mia

[temmtamm]

'Best Friend.'

(Yan! Secret History Tails x Reader)

Note: Been obsessing over this little fucker so decided to write this down for fun. If you enjoy this, feel free to blow up my ask box as I would gladly write more for this stinkalink.

Word count: 4,593

Tw: Death, violence, worship, threats, attempted murder, and yandere behavior

(Y/N) never wanted to get wrapped up into all this, all they really wanted to do was just help an acquaintance in need, they never planned or even thought that the action could have any consequences, much less ones to this severity. Even now, with slick scarlet staining at their hands, they still are in shock, thinking it all must've been some crazy type of dream, but they knew better.

The night this all started was just like any other for (Y/N).

The morbian had just gotten off of their shift, with sore feet and a strained brain from hours and hours of work, their only thought was about returning to the comfort of their home for some much needed dinner and rest.

Their body was practically in autopilot, following the familiar trails of the sunset forest zone. Even with a lack of thoughts or cares, they still took the time to take the slightly shorter way through, cutting through the trees and actual forest part of the zone to avoid the obstacles that the land had, making it hard for anyone to really get anywhere without it being like a parkour course.

Of course people like Sonic, Knuckles and any other of his friends might've had no problems with doing a course like that in under 5 minutes and continuing with their day, but (Y/N) wasn't like any of them, they were painfully boring and on the weaker side of things unlike the colorful cast of heroes that they had grown to be acquinted with. So, for people like (Y/N), they took the shortcut.

(Y/N) trudged through the forest, gently swatting away any leave or tree branches in their way as they did so. The setting sun's golden rays warmed their body to the touch, making a relaxing, lulling feeling overtake the morbian, allowing for them to wash away the stresses and worries of the day.

They felt completely and utterly safe right there on the path, not worrying about anything, not having to worry if another villain appeared along their way, and not having to worry about the creepy customers at their work who made it their goal to make them as uncomfortable as possible and then leave a shitty tip.

It was nice to have no cares, being able to just enjoy yourself in a comfortable silence. Though, that didn't last long--Well, at least not the silence part of things. Just before reaching a clearing of sorts, (Y/N) heard some subtly shoveling noises coming from ahead, followed by muffled cursing. They couldn’t understand most of it, but they were able to make out the whisperings for "Imposter." and "Dirty cretin's."

Taking notice to the hostility in the raspy tone that they head, (Y/N) immediately halted all movements and stayed deathly quiet, trying to make out where the sound came from so they could avoid that area or find a way around it without running into any possible dangers.

Sure, they could've ran in trying to find out whatever this hostile person was and see what they were up to and if it were actually dangerous but (Y/N) did not want to stick their nose into any strangers business. Especially when that stranger is in the woods alone with them. That sounds like the start to a bad horror movie they did NOT want to be a part of.

The sounds seemed to be coming from straight in front of (Y/N), causing some difficulties for any escape plans. If they just moved far to one of the sides, the person or morbian behind the sounds would easily be able to see them, thanks to the fewer amount of trees near the clearing.

So, (Y/N) quickly crouched down and crept toward the direction the noise came from, carefully listening in on the voice as well as trying to peek at who or what was there to be able to plan out an escape route. However, they could hear only faint whispers and hushed curses. As they approached closer, the earth decided to give them a cruel reminder of their surroundings.

'SNAP'

They took a step further than they should've, and suddenly the noise of a twig snapping under their foot hit not only their ears but mostly likely the figure they we're spying on as well. The murmurings and shoveling noises came to an abrupt stop, confirming (Y/N)'s fears that the person had heard it.

Fuck.

In one swift movement, (Y/N) pushed themselves up from their crouched position, darting to the left to at least try to hide in the few of trees they did have while evading the thing that had made all those noises. They weren't sticking around for even a second longer to figure out what the hell would happen to the. They had a better chance of surviving by running instead dog staying put like a deer in headlights.

The sound of something heavy hitting the floor was not lost on them, and neither was the pitter patter of feet chasing after them. The calming feeling they previously held in their chest when strolling quickly turned to adrenaline and fear.

This person had to be bad news, they wouldn't have been chasing (Y/N) unless they had something (Y/N) wasn't supposed to see.

The exhaustion that previously consumed (Y/N) and alertness took it's place. (Y/N) pushed against the wind, running as fast as they could, to the point where the fear of their leg muscles tearing was an actual thought that crossed their mind. Their breathing became erratic, both due to the energy they were using up as well as from fear. Despite their attempts to avoid any other branches or other parts of the natural environment that could slow them down, mid-steo their ankle had snagged onto one of the trunk roots belonging to one of the few trees around, sending (Y/N) toppling to the ground.

With the force and momentum, their fall knocked the air out of the lungs. (Y/N) yelled out, cursing out as a sharp pain was spent through their knee, making their cab quickly cramp up. They tried twisting their body to force themselves back up but before they even could, a hand grabbed at their shoulder, making the morbian flinch and their blood run cold.

But the touch was...oddly gentle??

"Ohmigosh!! Are you okay? What are you doing out here?" A familiar voice fell on (Y/N)'s ears, a stark contrast from the shrill yet raspy voice that they heard from the harsh whispering earlier. (Y/N) whipped their head around, turning to come face to face with a familiar two tailed acquaintance.

"Tails?! What are 𝘺𝘰𝘶 doing out here??" Despite (Y/N)'s confusion, the morbian couldn't help but feel relieved at the familiar face. At least there was a hero here now, no one would dare try to chase after them if Tails was by their side. There was a high chance people wouldn't question their disappearance--But tails?? Tails was a part of Sonic's crew, people would definitely be worried if he left.

"I was just..Making sure Robotnik hadn't set off any traps here for Sonic. What are you doing here..??" He questioned with a tilt of his head, a curious look taking over his features. He moved his hand away, allowing (Y/N) to sit up which gave the Morbian a chance to inspect their own leg. (Y/N) took notice to how his lips parted at the end of his sentence, as if he was about to use their name but had forgotten or hadn't known it. They were hurt, but they couldn't really blame the two tailed fox.

The two had never really hung out alone before so there's no surprise he wouldn't remember them that well. "I was just going home from work when I heard something. Before I know it, I'm being chased off and now this." (Y/N) explained, gesturing to their leg as they did so. Tails' eyes followed where (Y/N) was gesturing, taking notice to the leg.

"Oh, geez. Can you move it??" Tails asked, a hand reaching out to inspect the leg and stretch it out to see if that could help. He placed his paw on the leg, his eyes held no emotion, despite how his face made an effort to contort in concern. He did some simple stretches on the leg, but it only took a few minutes for a noise of pain to escape (Y/N)'s lips, alerting the fox friend to the fact that it was most likely too painful to walk on.

"I'm no doctor, but I think you might have a sprain. I don't think you can walk with it."

He looked at (Y/N). "Do you need me to carry you?" Tails asked, offering them a soft smile. "I may not remember where your house is, but if you tell me I'm sure I can take you there."

(Y/N) considered it for a few moments, their brows knitting together as they did so. They didn't want to cause him any trouble by asking him to do such a thing but with the throbbing pain in their leg, they doubted they could limp all the way back to their home. So with a nod of their head they agreed on Tails's offer. "If..if you can, please." They answered quietly, a tired and exhausted expression taking its place on their face.

The two tailed friend grinned at this before adjusting where he was so he could easily scoop (Y/N) up. Once in position, the fox picked up the morbian with little to no struggle. The morbian fox quickly draped (Y/N)'s body around his shoulder, carrying them firefighter style similar to how someone would carry a dead body or unconscious one.

"Jeez...I uh...I don't remember you being this strong, Tails." A nervous laugh escaped (Y/N)s throat, their hands latching onto any of Tails to make sure that the furry fox wouldn't drop them.

"Well, Sonic isn't the only one whos been pummeling Badniks." Tails chirped out, to which (Y/N) made a noise of understanding, eyes still cautiously watching the ground to make sure that they wouldn't slip and land face first into it.

With (Y/N) now draped over his shoulder, Tails took off into the direction towards (Y/N)'s home--Of course, after the Morbian had told him the coordinates.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

"Thanks again, Tails. You really came at the perfect time." (Y/N) grunted, their bed bending when the two-tailed fox placed them down on it. Tails gave a small nod, his tail slowly swishing behind him as his hands hovered over (Y/N)'s figure for minutes longer, ready to grab at them in case they would fall back or the like. "It's no sweat off my back--After all, What are friends for??" Tails smiled widely, flashing the other with a cheeky grin.

(Y/N) laughed lightly at that, their mouth twitch upwards. "Friends?? Didn't know you considered me one. I'm honored, Tails." Tails rubbed the back of his neck nervously, though it didn't feel entirely organic, more so that he planned for the action, deciding what would look the best.

"Whoops, must've just slipped out, huh?"

(Y/N) hummed in response, their expression taking on a slightly troubled one after the warmth of the interaction rubbed off.

"Hey...Tails?" (Y/N) questioned, unsure in their words of they should say it.

Tails raised his head once more, his ears perking up and twitching at the sound of his name. "Hm? What's wrong??"

(Y/N) paused for a moment, before opening their mouth to speak.

"Do you mind if you stick around for a few minutes?? You don't have to stay the rest of the day or anything, I'm just a bit worried that...something had followed me from the woods."

Tails furrowed his eyebrows at this, his eye even seeming as though it we're twitching from annoyance, but the expression only lasted a split second and was barely registered by (Y/N) before it returned to the kind smile the fox always had. "You're right, of course. It won't bother me at all!! I'll stick by the front door to make sure no one comes by and so I can see if anything goes on."

(Y/N) flashed the short fox a grateful grin, words being incapable of expressing their gratitude towards his act of kindness. "Thank you so so much, I really appreciate it, tails."

Tails waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry, it's no biggie!! Just worry about getting some rest for your leg, okay?? Once your safe and asleep, I'll just slip on out." Tails didn't wait much for a response, quickly taking his leave with a flick of his tails, leaving the morbian alone in their room, confused but still grateful nonetheless.

Once away from the morbian, Tails released a sigh, one of annoyance as he quickly dropped the kindhearted smile he kept plastered on his lips the entire time he was around that..that...𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨!!

Who were they anyways?? His universe never had anyone like that, and neither did any of the other universes with the other fake 'Sonic's. It was always him and Sonic, occasionally Amy, and Knuckles as well but there was never someone of (Y/N)'s caliber--Much less one that seemed to be acquainted with Sonic and the imposter of himself.

It was disgusting. Why was this universe any different?? How could it be? It was never different. It always always the same, it was supposed to be the same. He doesn't like change, but he especially didn't favor this change.

The two tailed fox strolled down the halls, his eyes flickering from wall to wall with disgust evident in his gaze. What was so special about this person that Sonic would be wasting his time on them?? The only person he should be wasting his time on was him--His best friend.

Tails paused, his eyes falling towards a table just barely in his line of sight from the gap that lead from the halls to the living room then the kitchen. Curious, he made his way over to it, though most of his intentions was just to get to the kitchen, to grab a knife and finish the job to leave no witnesses.

On top of the table were some documents, just the usual rent and bills and things of the nature. He grabbed for the documents, bringing it closer to his face and squinting to try and read the finer details and possibly attach a name to his victim.

"(Y/N)...(L/N)..??" His voice muttered, dropping the whole impression of this universe's Tails to instead speak in his usual shrill and raspy tone.

It wasn't a...bad name. Not bad at all actually. Kinda had a nice ring to it.

He shook his head, clearing it of its thoughts before he tore his eyes away from the work, letting it fall on the walls instead--Or more specifically, the pictures on the walls. There were many photos of (Y/N) and family members but they weren't the ones that caught his attention.

The one that did was one of (Y/N) who appeared to be just a few years younger, their hair dawning on a slightly different style and they were grinning like an idiot with Sonic right next to them, taking the picture. It must've been the first time the two had met, (Y/N) looked as though they had just met a celebrity or something so it was a possibility.

Sonic looked so right in that image, almost reminding Tails of the Sonic he thought was the real one, the one from his universe.

Maybe this universe actually 𝘥𝘪𝘥 have the real Sonic, His Sonic. He might actually find him this time.

...

...

Maybe (Y/N) was the reason for that?? They WERE the difference that separated this universe from the many, many others with many, many imposters of Sonic that tried to deceive him.

That's how it all started.

After that, Tails had successfully replaced his 'imposter' and nobody were none the wiser. Sonic and Amy noticed that he seemed off at first and was able to get them off his trail. Amy even started to grow vulnerable enough to open up about her crush on Sonic and how to win him over.

Perfect.

That wouldn't be the last time he saw (Y/N), however. The day after, (Y/N) had showed up at his lab with a noticeable limp, having made him some food as a thanks for him helping their leg out. Tails--Although a bit begrudgingly, ended up helping the morbian out, making sure that they were able to walk around by making them a cane for temporary use until their leg healed up.

The plan originally was to get (Y/N) out of the picture, either by executing them in a similar style to how he did with Shadow and Knuckles sor through other means.

But when he finally had the opportunity to do such a thing by them complaining about how their phone was bugging out, he...didn't. He offered to help and had a chance to turn it into an explosive as he had done with Knuckles but he couldn't. All he did was fixed up the bugs as well as add some much needed upgrades before giving it back to the morbian.

He swore he never saw Amy or Sonic's eyes light up like how theirs did whenever he did similar favors for them.

He found himself spending hours and hours reasoning his behavior with himself.

Of course he couldn't kill them, they were the reason he was with his Sonic!! If he killed them, the universe would be just as interchangeable with all the others, than that wouldn't make his Sonic special.

The two grew a bond rather quickly. (Y/N) usually came over to check out any little projects or gadgets Tails was working on and Tails would let them rant about their day.

Tails hadn't wanted to admit it, and actively pushed it away but this feeling kept returning to him, one too familiar for him to deny much longer.

He liked (Y/N), didn't he?? The feeling was definitely similar to the ones he felt for Sonic, yet they weren't as well. They could both rival his deadly obsession with the blue blue yet also surpass it.

Before anyone knew it, Green Hill had two people that Tails was always hovering over.

Tails started making more and more trips out of his lab, skipping out on projects or time he usually spent twisting and toying with Any's emotions for Sonic in favor of just always being around (Y/N).

He 𝘩𝘢𝘥 to know what (Y/N) was doing 24/7. That's why he always kept tabs on them. If they went anywhere, if they left their house, if they were eating at lunch, if they did anything else, anything to indicate that they weren't alone in their home at all times, Tails would immediately know.

So, when one day you had gotten more dressed up than usual and made your way to Angel Island to meet up with a certain red echidna, he was the first to know and He. Was. 𝘗𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥.

For the first time ever since he got there, he refused to hang out with Sonic. He stopped hovering around the blue blur, instead almost immediately making a B-line for Angel Island. He offered little to no explanation for the hedgehog, though Sonic was grateful nonetheless for finally being able to be left alone.

Once catching the familiar glimpse of (H/C) and Red, the fox was quick to duck behind some of the islands nature, using that as a way to obscure his figure as he took in the scene in front of him.

(Y/N) was sat comfortably on the ground, legs crossed and leaning against the stand where both Knuckles and the master emerald were perched upon.

The two were talking about nothing and everything, (Y/N) chatted away meanwhile Knuckles watched the morbian, paying attention to every single word as if they were speaking of the world's secrets.

Knuckles and (Y/N)'s conversation was audible to the fox, though all the two titled fiend could really hear was white noise. Disgust and bile built in the back of his throat at the sight. His disgust soon bubbled into pure unadulterated rage when he saw the red echidna reach over to the morbian and grab for their hand, holding it as if it were the most casual thing in the world. Who did he think he was to even touch (Y/N) so casually?? He was a nobody. You could replace this Knuckles with any other from any other universe and no one would be able to tell the difference.

He was nothing compared to Sonic--Compared to (Y/N).

Before the canine even really registered it, he had sprung out from his hiding spot, almost leaping onto the echidna in an attempt to wrestle the morbian away from (Y/N). It was a foolish thing to act off of his emotions, cause even with the adrenaline coursing through his veins he was still lanky and held absolutely nothing against Knuckles in combat.

In an instant, he had been pinned down, the red echidna holding down both wrists above his head.

"What the fuck are you doing?! What the hell, Tails?!" The echidna exclaimed, his rage possibling rivaling Tails'.

(Y/N) jumped back, their face contorting at the sight before them. They stayed deathly still, unsure if they should do anything in the moment as Knuckles seemed to have it under control.

"Get off of me, you filthy vermin!!" Tails hands futily reached up, clawing at the air near Knuckles face, but never managing to get close enough. "I'll claw your eyes out, imposter!!"

"Tails!!" The fox cringed at the sound of (Y/N)'s voices he almost forgot they were there in his rage. "What the hell has gotten into you??"

"This imbecile thinks it's alright to touch YOU like that! To be with YOU like THAT!?!" Tails yelled, not caring about how loud he sounded. Knuckles seemed to get angry at this, his grip on Tails tightening as his teeth grinded together. "He's an imposter, A fake!! He's not even good enough to matter!! He's no one in a million!! He's no Sonic!! He's not your best friend!" Tails writhed and swatted at Knuckles, attempting to somehow get the echidna off of him.

He was lucky enough to get a good kick to the groin, making Knuckles stumble back with a pained hiss. He looked ready to fight Tails, but a the yellow furred fox was quicker to action, grabbing for the closest thing near him which just so happened to be a rock.

Tails pounced back onto Knuckles, lifting the rock high before striking it down against his skull.

"Imposter!!"

Again.

"Cretin!!"

And again.

"Friend thief!!"

Hands wrapped around his neck, using it to yank him away from Knuckles before he could strike again, though the effects were already done.

Gurgling noises escaped what remained of Knuckles skull before his body went limp, the remaining fight that it contained draining away along with his life.

"Tails...What the fuck did you do?! Do you know what you had just done??" (Y/N)'s voice cracked, so much emotion being continued behind their words. They had just watched their friends life drained before their eyes. Not only that, but it was by the person they trusted, the one they thought were their hero, their friend.

"He was replaceable!! They all are! I can get you a new one in the snap of an eye--One that knows to keep its FILTHY hands away!!" This wasn't the voice they recognized. This wasn't the one that belonged to their Tails. The love and care that was once held in his tone was now filled with hate and lunacy.

"You....You're a fucking freak!!" (Y/N) cried out, their hands that were once grabbing onto the Fox's neck and shoulders now pushing him back, letting him collide on the harsh concrete of the Master Emeralds stand.

(Y/N) didn't know what was goingon in their brain, they almost blacked out from the rage but they do recall their body moving on their own. They kicked and stomped at the two tailed fox, making sure he'd stay down.

Tails didn't fight back. Unlike with Knuckles, he actually seemed to revel in this pain. A sickening, deafening cackle left his body, almost involuntarily. Every kick and stomp only seemed to fuel this giggle fit of his. He was clearly enjoying himself, watching with a wide smile as his eyes stayed locked into (Y/N)'s.

(Y/N) wanted to stomp his head in, to massacre his body like he did Knuckles, but they couldn't. They weren't as heartless as this Tails and they certainly weren't as vicious.

A whimper involuntarily escaped their lips as tears started to prick in the eyes. They felt betrayed, they were used. Their leg froze mid air, just hovering over Tails though they couldn't slam it back down on his form even if they wanted to. They wanted to go back to a couple minutes ago, where they were just having fun with a friend, when Tails wasn't even there.

Cracking noises came from the joint sofa Tails as he contorted his body, forcing his sore limbs to lift himself up.

With the pop of his joints he seemed to be...longer, lankier. More and more, he strayed from what (Y/N) knew tails to be until he was practically unrecognizable. He wasn't Tails, he was his own creature far far from the loveable tech-whiz (Y/N) knew.

"Oh, my dear. Don't tell me you're actually crying over a vermin of their caliber??"

Crazed eyes looked up at (Y/N) with an adoration of some kind, one that the morbian recognized as the lions he'd give his blue friend. "You have me, and I'm certainly better." His hand reached up and grabbed for (Y/N)'s leg, setting it down before his arms wrapped around it, hugging it close to him as if he were worshipping (Y/N)'s physical form. Hypocritical. This was far worse than holding hands and yet where was his punishment?? "I've always been there, since the beginning. I'm Tails, Sonic's best friend, the player two. You're hero."

(Y/N) shook their head violently, trying to free their legs from Tails' grasp only to be met with his two tails wrapping against it, keeping it in place. "Stop. Stop trying to leave. I'm the best for you, I'm your friend."

"I love you."

Thanks for reading ♥︎

#fanfic #sonic headcanons #sonic x reader #tails the fox #sh tails #secret history #secret history tails #theres something about amy #yandere x reader #yandere sonic the hedgehog #yandere #fanfiction #temmer

[batcavescolony]

Have I mentioned how much i love ao3? So I'm currently watching a show and I like to look up fanfics but obviously I don't want to get spoiled so I just go to filters scroll down to 'date updated', look up the date the episode aired on, go 6 days ahead to the day before the next episode, and it filters out all the fics about episodes I haven't watched yet! It's great.

#archive of our own #ao3 #fanfic #fan fiction #ao3 hacks #ao3 tips #fanfiction #fandom #to anyone whos gonna be like 'ao3 is bad it promotes blah blah blah' you're on tumblr #the site that bullied john green off of it by editing his posts to make it seem like he was a bad person #were known for sh and ed posts. superwholock and wincest. welcome to the internet you must be new #didnt we have someone actually selling human remains?

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 5461

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

8. Banana-Dulce Cheesecake

Bucky

It occurs to him to tell Steve about the kiss later that night, when Steve is three fingers deep in him and Bucky wants some leverage to make him get in him already. He’s told him four damn times already to move things along.

“Sweetheart,” he coos, making an effort to control his voice so that Steve doesn’t know just how well he’s getting at his prostate like this. “If you don’t listen to me and get your dick in me in the next fifteen seconds, I’m tying you up and riding the dildo while you watch.”

Steve’s rhythm falters and his eyes widen, because he knows his husband and he knows it’s no idle threat. Sexual denial is one of Bucky’s favorite cruelties. “Fuck,” he whispers. “Okay, okay.” His fingers leave a sad absence inside of Bucky, but he gets right to work in reaching for the lube bottle to slick himself up.

“Aht, forgetting something?” Bucky raises his eyebrow and watches Steve huff in exasperation as he stretches across the bed to reach for their beside drawer. Bucky takes the opportunity to smack his ass, enjoying the slight jiggle and the clenching muscle. “Good boy,” he purrs, as Steve comes back with a condom in hand. 

Even when he’s fucking Bucky, Steve isn’t allowed to come inside of him. Only Bucky gets the privilege of leaving a load up inside his husband's ass, a possessive reminder left behind to slide out, slow and filthy. He watches Steve roll the latex down his dick and then give himself a few indulgent pulls with the lube. He's red and throbbing, and Bucky can tell by the way he keeps sucking his bottom lip back into his mouth that he’s feeling very sensitive. “That feel good, Honey?”

“Nngh.”

“That’s enough. C’mere.” He hooks his heels in behind Steve’s ass to urge him forward. Steve drops his dick and climbs over him, settling into the spread of his legs and reaching down to line himself up. Bucky feels the wet drag of his cockhead over his hole.

Obedient boy, he thinks with a smirk. But it slips off his face when Steve starts to push in. He inhales sharply through his nose and closes his eyes as he focuses on letting Steve in. “Ungh,” he grunts quietly, brow furrowed at the stretch.

“You okay?” Steve’s hovering, not pushing any further. Waiting for permission.

Bucky swallows and nods, because he is okay, but goddamn. Sometimes he forgets just how big his Stevie really is. (No better reminder than to have it shoved up his ass.) “Yeah,” he pants, sliding his hands up the backs of Steve’s arms and feeling up the tension in his triceps—he’s straining so beautifully, trying so very hard to hold still for him. It makes Bucky melt when he opens his eyes again and gets a look at the beautifully pinched expression on Steve’s face.

Oh, his golden boy.

“C’mere, you,” he husks, pulling him down by the jaw for a kiss. It forces Steve’s cock a little bit further into him, and he groans at the stretch. “Ff-uck, uhn, Ssteve.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

He shoves his tongue into Steve’s mouth like it’s payback for the way he’s invading his body right now, the lewd, wet swipe of his tongue a counterpoint to Steve’s dick. Bucky just wants to get inside his man, any way he can. Steve makes a filthy, tortured noise when their tongues roll together, and Bucky relishes it. He growls and drives their mouths together again and again, making it sloppy, taking Steve’s breath away, tongue-fucking his mouth before he gets any real chance to start fucking him.

“Buck,” Steve breathes, the word wet on his lips as he holds himself still. He’s looking so pleadingly at Bucky, near-pained self restraint and begging eyes that make Bucky want to destroy him. “Please. I gotta. Gotta move.”

Bucky feels that ever-familiar dark thrill zip through him. “Yeah?” he asks, mock sympathy lacing his tone. He strokes Steve’s hair. “Is that what you want, big guy? You wanna bury that fat cock up in me? Wanna go to town?” Steve nods, of course he does, and Bucky forces one more harsh, unyielding kiss onto him before he pulls back and relents. “Okay Baby, push it in a little. Go slow. Make yourself feel good.”

Steve sags with relief, instantly sinking deeper into Bucky’s body. He goes slow like he’s been told, easing in each of the seven plus girthy inches he has to give, and since Bucky’s just put up with God knows how much time and lube and fingers softening him up for this, it doesn’t hurt.

It’s just so fucking much.

Steve waits once he’s settled all the way inside, because he knows he needs permission to start thrusting. Bucky strokes a tender thumb just under his eye, taking the time to soak up his expression, his pretty features when he’s feeling good like this. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, y’know that?”

Steve grins shakily and knocks their foreheads together. “That why you married me?”

“Mmm. Had to do somethin’. Couldn’t let somebody else get at you.” Bucky grinds up, feeling Steve’s hot length rub inside him, so big. “Oh, Honey.”

“Fuck,” Steve says tersely. “Fuck, Bucky please. Say I can. C’mon Baby.”

Bucky nods, and that’s all the permission Steve needs. He starts moving, thrusting into Bucky with short, deep rolls of his hips. Steve’s a goddamn savant when it comes to getting at Bucky’s sweet spot with his dick, and now’s no exception. Bucky hisses as sparks fly up his spine, his balls pressed deliciously by Steve’s pubic bone every time he rocks in deep. It’s so damn good. “S-sumthin happened today,” he says, stuttering over his words in a way he almost never does.

“Mm.” Steve starts necking at him, humming in acknowledgement. “What?”

“With Mary,” Bucky grunts. “I—nnh—I kissed her.”

Against his neck, Steve makes this tiny, appreciative sound that just about makes Bucky's blood boil. His hips jolt down in an uncontrolled thrust. “Yeah? She liked it?”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes, a dirty thrill shooting through him at this: at talking about someone else while Steve fucks him. Talking about her. “Yeah she did. She felt so good, Stevie. Felt so nice in my arms.” 

Steve groans again. "Tell me."

“Wanted more, God, I wanted to squeeze her, y’know? Trap her. Right up between me and you.”

“Fuck, Bucky. Uhn.”

“Yeah.” They’re grinding filthily now, all firm and deep, skin slapping quietly, Bucky’s legs wrapped up around Steve’s waist to draw him in hard again and again. “I wanna do something about it,” he pants. “Want to have her.”

Steve moans and nods, his face pinking from the effort, from the thought of the three of them together. This, the idea of the two of them in a three-way relationship with a woman, used to be one of their biggest fantasies that they’d talk about. “Can we?” he asks, looking to Bucky for permission. Always to Bucky. It gets him hotter than anything, so in love with his man.

“Yeah,” he says, reaching down to grab handfuls of Steve’s flexing ass, urging him on. “Yeah we can. We’ll take her apart. Fuck her so good.”

“Oh, God. How?” Steve’s back to kissing on his neck while he grinds into him, dirty pants against sucked-wet skin going straight to Bucky’s dick. “Tell me.”

“Mm, I dunno. Maybe you can hold her, huh? Hold her open while I go down on her. Or maybe we’ll—ugh, shit—maybe we’ll both have her at the same time, yeah? You behind her and me in front, taking turns dipping our cocks in her ‘til she screams.” 

Steve groans, his hips slowing and his head sinking over Bucky’s shoulder—He’s close and doesn’t want to come.

Bucky bites sharply at his neck. “Did I say you could stop? Keep fucking me.”

Steve, trooper that he is, whimpers and gets back to it. Bucky grits his teeth, angling his hips into the thrusts just right so that his prostate is getting it good. “Aw, fuckyeah. Like that, Honey, juust like that. Shit. You’re gonna make Daddy cum, y’know that?”

Steve whines, his hips stuttering at the words. Bucky rarely calls himself “Daddy” when they’re together, it’s usually something he only utters when he’s domming a sub. But with Steve topping like this, Bucky needs the extra dominance. The growled words get to Steve too though, and he starts to come, shoving harder and uncoordinated. “Ohn ... shit,” he whimpers, the high pitched, desperate sound of it making Bucky’s cock pulse dangerously.

He growls and smashes their mouths together, shoves his flesh hand down between their bellies and grabs himself, starts stroking off hard and fast as he feels Steve’s jerky final thrusts. They finish seconds apart, with Steve still grinding his orgasm out as Bucky’s cock starts shooting up his belly and over his knuckles. “Uh, ughn, godyeah …”

They slump against each other with exhaustion once it’s done, panting against skin and reveling in the aftershocks. Steve eventually takes the initiative to pull out, getting rid of the condom and snuggling back up against Bucky’s side. Bucky hums and wraps his arm around him, pressing a kiss to the edge of his temple. “S’good,” he mumbles, letting Steve pull the blanket up to cover their legs, even though they haven’t even wiped off yet. It feels too good to move right now.

“So,” Steve says a few minutes later, his voice softened and lax from the afterglow. He’s got his head pillowed on Bucky’s chest, and Bucky begins to play idly with his hair. “The Mary thing.”

Bucky inhales deeply, his chest rising and falling underneath Steve’s cheek. “Yeah. The Mary thing.”

“What’s the plan?”

He doesn’t answer for a long time, picturing various scenarios in his sated brain. “Hell if I know.”

Bucky

Steve’s already back from his ass-o’clock morning jog and putzing around the kitchen by the time Bucky has finished dressing for work and emerges from the bedroom. He hears (and smells) the coffee pot percolating, and sighs gratefully as he walks into the kitchen to join him. “Mornin’ babe. Thanks. for getting that started.”

Steve gives him a cheerful peck on the lips as he passes to open one of the upper cabinets. “There’s a piece of cheesecake in the fridge for you,” he says. 

“Cheesecake?” Bucky’s slightly distracted by the shape of Steve’s muscular back through his tight Under Armour top as he stretches to reach his preferred to-go mug. “For breakfast?”

“I may have mentioned that it’s your favorite dessert of all time.” Steve shoots him a knowing smile when he turns back around. "Enjoy the view?"

"You know it," Bucky says, shameless. "I'll have to have a talk with her about making cheesecake. The first step is admitting you have a problem, and I have a problem."

Steve snickers and goes to grab the coffee pot and fill the mug. “At least take it to work with you for lunch. She’ll be bummed if you don’t.”

“Sure.” In the fridge, Bucky discovers a clear plastic clamshell box with a single slice of cheesecake inside. Previously unaware of any hunger, his stomach suddenly turns over in a growling vote of confidence for the cheesecake. “Damn,” he mutters, reaching in and pulling the clamshell out. “So that’s what the banana threats were for.”

“Yep.” Steve chuckles. “I already had a piece. And Buck:” He turns around and looks at him with theatrically wide eyes. “It’s really good.”

“Oh, I have no doubt.” Bucky checks the time on his phone, decides that he has enough time to sit down and eat it there before he leaves for work. He goes to grab a fork from the silverware drawer. Seated on the stool at the breakfast bar, his eyes slide shut as the first bite of dense, creamy goodness slides over his tongue. “Oh, sweet baby Jesus,” he moans. “Caramel.”

“I know, right?”

He opens his eyes again and gives Steve a withering look. “We’ve gotta set some boundaries for ourselves. Or she’ll have us rocking dad bods in no time.”

Mary’s laugh sounds from the hallway just before she appears, dressed in sneakers and workout clothes. “With the way you two work out? Yeah right.” She shoots a cheerful finger gun in Bucky’s direction. “And it’s dulce, not caramel.”

“Oh. Well I stand corrected, then.”

“Basically the same thing as American-style caramel.” She makes a face. “Which hardy counts at all. Just wait until I make you a real caramel. Where the sugar’s actually cooked dark enough to taste.” She nods with an adorable amount of conviction. “Your mouth’ll know the difference.”

“I’m sure it will,” Bucky drawls, looking her over with the same sort of appreciation that he’d just done with Steve. Mary wears leggings on a regular basis, which is always very enticing, but her gym leggings are even tighter, and it’s a total cocktease. Bucky waits until she has her back turned before he lets his gaze drop to her hips and ass. Jesus, help him. “You going to the gym?” he asks, knowing that it’s her day off.

“Yeah,” she huffs, going over to grab her jacket from the catchall. “I’ve gained so much weight since Halloween, it’s not even funny. Got about fifteen pounds to work off now. Blegch.”

Bucky actually puts his fork down, he’s so disturbed by the casual way that she throws it out.  “What?” he says, and Steve echoes him with a stifled noise in his throat that basically means the same thing. “Fifteen pounds?” He lets his eyes drag over her body, mouth agape. “Mary, wait.”

“What?” She’s shrugging her jacket on with a humorless laugh. “It’s true.”

“No it is fucking not,” Bucky snaps, and at hearing his tone, she stops laughing. “Mary,” he says sternly. “You do not need to lose any weight. And certainly not fifteen pounds. Jesus. That’s ludicrous.”

She turns around with an incredulous expression. “Seriously? I literally just heard you complaining about dad bods. Have you seen yourself? And you’re gonna talk to me about what’s ludicrous?”

Bucky frowns at how defensive she’s gotten and how fast. “Mare,” he says, trying to soften his tone. “You look great. Now I’m fine with you going to the gym if you want, but let’s not get out of hand, here.” Something about the tense determination in her features sets off alarm bells in his head. “You should wait to go to the gym with Steve when he goes in the afternoon,” he decides, making it an order. “You don’t need to be going by yourself.”

Her entire face screws up. “Excuse you,” she scowls. “I’m not a child. I can go to the freakin’ gym by myself.”

“No,” he says firmly. “I want you to wait.”

For a split second, he sees her expression smooth over at how calmly and firmly he’s said it—her own natural submissive reaction to a direct order from him. But that quickly bleeds back to astonished anger. “Sorry, Daddy, but I’m ready to go now. I already took my pre-sup and I’ll just waste it if I—”

“Pre-sup?” he hisses (forcing himself to ignore the ‘Daddy’ thing—holy shit). “What supplements are you taking?”

“None of your business!” She laughs meanly, and Bucky sees Steve shift out of the corner of his eye at how quickly this is devolving. “Jesus. I’m a grown woman, Bucky.”

“I know that, Mary,” he grits. “Now take your coat off and wait for Steve.”

“No.”

“Have you even had any breakfast?” he growls.

“I don’t like to eat before a workout,” she says, grabbing up her purse from the catchall. 

“Mary,” Steve pleads, looking worriedly at Bucky. “You should have something for fuel. C’mon, let me make you a piece of toast at least.”

She huffs, shouldering her purse and heading for the door. “You guys’ bread has like a hundred and thirty calories a slice. No thanks. I’m fine.” She unlocks the deadbolt and reaches for the doorknob.

Bucky lets loose his full Dom-voice when he warns, “Mary, don’t you open that door.”

Her shoulders visibly tense, as if she’s fighting off the full-body urge to obey him. “I’ll be back in a couple hours,” she says, then pulls open the door and leaves.

Bucky stares, furious. “A couple of hours?!” The barstool’s legs scrape against the floor as he hastily pushes out from the counter, intending to go after her.

“Babe, wait. No.” Steve stops him with both hands on his shoulders. “That’s not a good idea.”

“She just willfully disobeyed me!” Bucky snarls. “I can’t let that go!”

Steve’s fingers curl over his shoulders in a squeeze and he ducks his head to fix him with a meaningful look. “Buck, hey, take a deep breath. You’re not handling this well.” 

The message is clear. This is the way Steve talks to him when he’s trying to calm him down from domspace—and not the good kind of domspace, either. Bucky jerks away from his hold, but Steve arches an eyebrow, and so Bucky takes a few deep inhales and exhales, glaring at his husband the whole time he’s doing it. “She can’t get away with behavior like that,” he reiterates once he’s done. He forces his tone to be more calm so that Steve can’t hold it against him. “That was out of line. She needs to be corrected.”

“I know,” Steve says, still looking at him cautiously. “But we don’t have a discipline plan in place, so what’re you gonna do? Go grab her in public and drag her back here kicking and screaming?” 

Bucky's jaw works in frustration. “No," he grits. "No, that won't work."

“Good. I'm glad you can see that.” Some of the tension releases from Steve’s shoulders, and Bucky instantly feels bad. Poor Steve. He’s already married to one erstwhile/sometimes mental case, and now he’s got another one on the extreme opposite end of the spectrum to deal with.

“Sorry,” Bucky says tightly, turning away in embarrassment. He can still feel the ticking of his pulse in his veins, and the desire to control pulled tight throughout all his muscles. “Sorry,” he says again, going back to sit at the breakfast bar.

“It’s okay, Babe.”

He scoots back in to the counter and grabs his fork, moodily spearing another bite of the cheesecake. His thoughts still linger on the showdown with Mary as he chews, and after he swallows he mutters, “The hell’s gotten into her?” Normally she’ll go soft as a stick of butter the second he starts talking sternly at her, but this time she’d seemed to actually harden against him the more he tried it. 

Steve comes over with the to-go mug, emptying a Splenda packet into it. “You think it has anything to do with you kissing her?” 

Bucky frowns, not having considered that. He shakes his head grumpily. “No. She’s been coming down every night. It doesn’t make any sense for her to be acting like this."

“Okay, but Babe … maybe we should try to get her in to see Linda this week. See if there’s something she needs that we’re not—”

“What she needs is a quick trip over my lap,” he growls, left hand flexing. “She’s bratting.”

“She does like to go to the gym,” Steve hedges, but he shuts up when Bucky shoots him a withering glare. “Yeah, okay, maybe you’re right.”

“Damn right I’m right. Call the Center today. Try and get us in. The sooner the better.”

Steve nods. “And what do you suggest I do about her when she comes back?”

Bucky grunts and eats the last bite of cheesecake n his plate, vaguely aware that he would’ve savored it a lot more if he wasn’t so riled up over Mary’s behavior. “Just leave her alone. You’re right: we don’t have a discipline plan in place.” (Though he plans to correct that very soon.) “We’ll sort it out at this next visit. Linda already said she has strong indications for impact play.”

Steve winces. “Why do they need to put the word ‘play’ after everything?” Bucky shrugs, and Steve looks rueful. “You know she’s gonna throw a fit when you bring it up.”

“I know.” And he really doesn’t care. A dark thrill of dominance zips through Bucky at just the idea of putting Mary over his knee, of trapping her wrists at her lower back and holding her down, giving her a good spanking until she’s crying and grinding and sorry. “She’ll learn real quick that it’s what’s good for her. That girl needs consequences like a fish needs water."

“Uh huh.” Steve seems almost amused, but he holds up his hands again when he gets another glare from Bucky. “I’ll call and make an appointment, I will,” he promises. “But what about you, Babe?”

“What about me?”

Steve gives him a look. “You could stand to go in yourself.”

“I’m fine.”

His eyes slip down to Bucky’s left hand. “Babe ...”

Bucky looks down—Somewhere in the past few minutes, he’s bent the fork in his fist a little bit. Huffing, he sets it down.

“Take the morning off and go get a session in with one of the Pros,” Steve coaxes. “Spare your poor coworkers.”

Bucky scoffs and takes his plate to the sink to rinse it. “No. I’m fine.”

“Uh huh.”

“I am,” he insists, giving Steve a warning look when it seems like he’ll argue further. “Steve,”

“Okay, okay.” Steve holds up his hands in surrender. “Just trying to help.”

Bucky softens, feeling bad. “C’mere, you. Hey, I’m sorry.” He gives Steve a big hug, and then a kiss that’s equal parts possessive and apologetic. They part, and he smiles a little, nudging Steve’s nose with his. “You still having fun in the nuthouse?” he murmurs.

Steve ‘tsks’ at him for the joke and give him a chiding squeeze. “Yes,” he insists. “Now get going, nutso, before you're late. And don’t forget your coffee.”

Bucky gives him one last peck on the lips and then grabs his things. He puts his coat on and drapes his suit jacket over his arm at the door. “Try to keep her here once she’s back,” he says, frowning once again as he thinks about the “hours” remark Mary had made. “Ridiculous,” he mutters. 

“I’ll head over to the gym in a bit. Make sure she isn’t overdoing it,” Steve promises. “Now go on, try to have a good day. Try not to make your secretary cry.”

Bucky huffs, though he is smiling a little as he heads out the door. He’s only ever made his secretary cry once, and Steve will never, ever let him live it down. “Bye Babe. I Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Steve

That evening, they bite the bullet and show Mary the letter that came in the mail: addressed to Bucky, from the circuit court of New York. It lists the court date for review of Mary’s case of custodianship.

Steve’s expecting a meltdown, but what they get instead is a morose sort of silence. He’s not sure he wouldn’t prefer the meltdown. Mary just sniffs and doesn’t talk much, picking her portion of dinner to smithereens before deigning to eat any of it. After their nightly tv time and Bucky's low key domming, she goes off to bed without bidding them goodnight like she usually does.

Steve wakes in the early hours of the morning, having to take a piss. He’s just flushed and is considering being naughty and slipping out to the kitchen to grab himself a slice of cheesecake, when he sees that Mary’s bedroom door is open. He sticks his head in to check on her, but she’s not in her bed. “Mary?” he whispers.

That’s when he hears soft noises coming from the kitchen.

It’s Mary. Steve stalls in place when he sees her, leaning back against the cabinets and face splotchy from crying. She’s dressed in her workout clothes again, hair messy like she’s already been out and back from another workout. Steve frowns worriedly when he spots her house keys and empty water bottle on the counter next to her phone. “Hey Mare,” he says quietly, so that he doesn’t spook her. 

She sniffles as she sees him and hurriedly scrubs her face. “Oh. Hi Steve.”

“What are you doing up?” He takes a few cautious steps closer. “It’s late."

“Just wanted to get a snack,” she says, voice sounding tearful and pitiful. It’s such an obvious lie, Steve doesn’t even bother remarking on it.

“Were you at the gym again, Honey?” he asks. He’d had to intervene at the gym yesterday, when she’d been approaching hour number three with no signs of stopping. Now, he walks over and leans against the countertop’s edge right next to her. The room is dark, but he can just make out the silvery tracks left behind on her cheeks, the puffiness around her eyes. He smiles sadly at her. “You want to talk about it?”

Her expression pinches and she looks away. “No.”

“Okay.”

“... I went to the gym,” she eventually murmurs. 

“Yeah, I cry at the gym, too. All the time.” Steve nudges his bare foot against her sneakered one. “Come on,” he coaxes. “I’m a good listener.”

“You’re a good tattletale,” she grumbles.

“Hey.”

“Well you are. You tell Bucky everything I say and do. And he’s always on me about everything and I just …” she huffs. “I just don’t want to deal with it sometimes.”

“Well …” Steve hedges, knowing that he shouldn’t say what he’s about to say. “You could still tell me,” he offers. He lets his hand inch over on the counter’s edge and hooks his pinkie over hers. She looks down at it, then up to him. Steve’s mouth quirks. “Bucky can be a lot. I know. But he’s just trying to do what’s right. And you’ve gotta remember that he isn’t perfect. He has to live with this thing just like you do. Some days he handles it better than others.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Steve sighs. “Look, if there’s something you want to talk to me about, but you don’t want him to know, it can stay between us.” Mary looks over in surprise and Steve cringes. “Just ... promise me that you’ll talk it out with Linda, too?”

She hums noncommittally. “Walk me back to bed?”

“Course, Hon.”

She shuts herself into her bathroom and returns after a few minutes, dressed in pajamas and her hair towel dried. She seems surprised that Steve has stuck around when she sees him standing there, toeing the line of the doorway. "Oh."

“I didn’t know if you meant …” he shrugs. “Tuck you in?” 

She smiles a little, though it’s sad. Steve thinks she might’ve been crying again in the shower. “Sure,” she says, tucking her head down. She gets into bed and Steve covers her with the blankets, then sits on the edge of the mattress for a moment. “So do you want to talk?” he asks softly.

She chews her lip for a long moment, and just when Steve thinks she’s about to turn him down, she whispers, “... I don’t think it’s working the same anymore.”

“What isn’t working?” 

“The stuff with Bucky. The drops.”

Steve’s lips part in understanding. “Oh. I see.”

She nods and won't meet his eyes. “It doesn’t feel the same as it did before. Like it’s not as strong, or something. And it’s wearing off faster.” Her face pinches and for a second she really looks like she might cry. 

“Honey?” Steve reaches to tuck her damp hair back from her face, and that seems to be what does it. She starts crying and turns into the pillow, hiding there as her breath hitches in tiny sobs. Surprised, Steve lets his hand fall to her shoulder, where he gives her a comforting squeeze. “Hey,” he soothes. “Shhh, it’s okay. It's okay.”

She shakes her head with a little whimper. “No it’s not. I th-thought they’d stop now. They did stop, for a while.”

“What stopped?” Steve asks, confused. 

She sniffles, face crumpled up in distress. “I have bad dreams sometimes. That’s why I was up. Went to the gym to try and run it off.”

“Bad dreams?" Steve says, concerned. "You mean nightmares?" Sometimes Bucky has them too, so he's under no illusions about how debilitating they can be. "Mare?" he prods gently. "What are the nightmares about?”

She burrows further into the pillow, turning onto her side and curling up in a little ball. “Just stuff,” she mumbles. “From when I was a kid.”

Steve gets a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he has to really consider his words carefully before he speaks. He finally settles on a quiet, “Your dad?”

“... Yeah.”

Ouch. Steve swallows. “Honey … you really need to talk to somebody about this.”

She sniffles and shakes her head, and when Steve puts his hand on her shoulder again, she doesn’t try to shrug him off. “You promised not to tell Bucky,” she says.

Steve winces. “Yeah, I know.” Bucky and he already had a pretty good idea about this, but he doesn’t feel the need to point that out right now. “And you promised you’d talk with Linda,” he reminds. “It’s not safe for you to be sneaking out of here at night.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. "It’s just that ... the only thing that ever really made ‘em stop was getting drunk. And then with Bucky …” Her body shudders in a quiet sob. “But now it’s not working the same anymore! So what am I supposed to do?”

“Oh, Mare.” Steve rubs her shoulder. “Shh sh sh, Honey, it’s alright. It’s a process. We just gotta figure out what works for you." He gives her a comforting squeeze. “We’ve got an appointment for tomorrow, okay? We’re gonna talk to Linda and figure this all out. It’ll get better, I promise.” He bends to kiss the top of her head, and soothes her with a gentle litany of murmured words as she cries. “It’s okay, Mare. We’ll figure this out. It’s all gonna be okay.”

She calms down after a while of that, and Steve gives her one last hug before he stands to leave. “Goodnight, Sweetheart. Tomorrow’ll be a better day, you’ll see.”

“Steve?” He turns back around to see her peeking at him from over the top edge of the covers. “On the dresser. On the top, there's a ... You can take it.”

He’s confused, until he goes over and sees the only thing that’s sitting on top of the room’s highboy dresser. His heart all but stops. Carefully, he slides it into the palm of his hand, dread filling his chest like cold water. “Mary,” he says, fearful. “Did you—”

“No,” she says. “But I was thinking about it.” 

With a sinking sense of horror, he realizes what a massive mistake it was to tell Mary he’d keep secrets for her. “Mary,” he says warningly, “You know I can’t keep this from—”

“I’ll talk to Linda,” she says, looking at him with tearful, angry eyes that dig into Steve’s heart. “I gave it to you, didn’t I?”

Steve’s lips thin and he frowns, pained. “Where did you get it?” 

“From work.”

“Why would they have these at your work?”

Mary squirms, looking embarrassed. “It’s for a lamé. For scoring the bread before it goes in the oven.”

Steve sighs and drops his hand, letting his fingers curl loosely over the razorblade. “There’s a limit to this, you know,” he warns. “I want you to feel like you can talk to me without worrying that I’m gonna tell him every little thing, but he’s still my husband. And that means that my responsibility is to him, first.”

Her eyes lower in defeat. “Yeah,” she mumbles. “I know.”

“Hey.” He holds up the blade and gives her a pointed look. “And you can’t be doing this. Because at the end of the day, he’s still the one who’s legally responsible for you. He has to do what he thinks is in your best interest. We both do.”

She frowns and won’t meet his eyes, but after a moment she nods, and Steve believes that she means it when she mumbles a tiny little, “Kay.”

“Kay. You gonna try to get some sleep now?”

She nods, still tearful, but calmer. Steve gently bids her goodnight and heads for the door. When he’s almost got it closed, Mary calls out softly one more time. “Steve?”

“Yeah Honey?”

“Thank you,” she says, so quiet that Steve almost doesn’t hear. “I feel like … I just needed that. To talk to you.”

Steve’s shoulders relax and he smiles grimly, relieved to hear that he’s made her feel a little better, and that he’s able to be someone she can confide in. He even feels a little bit proud that she trusts him enough to tell him these things. It’s almost enough to take away his guilt over promising to keep secrets from his husband.

… Almost. 

“G’night, Mary,” he says. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night, Steve.”

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

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#m/m/f #m/f/m #trigger warning ed #trigger warning sa #trigger warning abuse #trigger warning sh #stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #marvel #mcu #fanfiction #steve rogers x bucky barnes #fanfic #dom/sub #dom/sub au #dom/sub undertones #dom/sub dynamics #d/s au #d/s #d/s dynamic #d/s relationship #enemies to lovers #hate to love #hurt/comfort #stucky x ofc #stucky x reader #stucky x you #stucky x y/n #stucky smut

[thelostmagicians]

In theaters now…

The Little Mermaid AU

Steve Harrington x mermaid!reader

Summary: The title says it all, it’s the little mermaid, but with Steve

Part I: Fathoms Below

Part II: Under The Sea

Part III: Kiss The Girl

Part IV: Part Of Your World

#steve harrington #stranger things #st4 spoilers #stranger things spoilers #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x afab!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington fic recs #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington series #sh #stranger things fic #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x woc!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x you #simon-writes #simon-writes-steve

[megamindsecretlair]

The Secret Lamont Files

Do not copy or repost my work. Reblogs are encouraged. Do not use my work to train AI. 18+ only. Minors do not interact. Warning: contains multiple uses of n-word.

Lamont x Black!reader Fics

When It Feels Right - use of n-word

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Lamont Files #Lamont x Black!reader #Lamont x Black reader #x Black reader #Lamont x Fem!reader #Lamont x Fem reader #x Fem reader #Lamont x plus size reader #Lamont x reader #Lamont x you #Lamont fanfic #Lamont fan fic #Lamont fanfiction #Lamont fan fiction #Rap Sh!t #Rap Sh t #Rap Sh!t fanfic #Rap Sh!t fan fic #Rap Sh!t fanfiction #Rap Sh!t fan fiction

[bleedingichorhearts]

I need to be rutted into submission by an unbonded wild astartes out back of a Denny's

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Denny’s? Okay, guess both of ya’ll got horny I mean, hungry. Yes.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets.

𝕬𝖈𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖊𝖉𝖌𝖊: If you are under the age of 18. Shoo! Go away! Skedaddle! Why you reading this in the first place? Be 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 for/of yourself.

TW // SMUT/NSFW, Filth, Language, Dubcon?

He watches as this female human eats at the food placed in front of her through the window. Her hands picking up the metal utensil to the side of her to eat her nightly meal.

A meal that he could have provided. A meal that he could have hunted down and cooked himself instead of that younger, inferior male.

He observes how the younger male comes back to give her a little piece of paper. Her tongue swiping across her teeth before she licked her lips. A charming smile forming on her face as the younger male manages to make her laugh. His gauntlet twitching at such a bold display in front of him.

It wasn’t even a second in before the male sat himself in her booth. The two of them conversing to one another. The male occasionally stealing food for her plate.

Doesn’t that boy know that she needed that food to store up and replenish her energy after mating? That he gave her that food and not the other way around?

Oh, this male was a fool. He was in no shape or form to take care of this little female if he needed to take her food. Any male should know not to take a females food without asking or never at all. Even he knows this basic ritual. He’s been tracking her down after all.

She was in her prime week. Her fertile scent catching his senses, driving his mind crazy each time he tried to resist it. It was like something he needed to have. That he needed to breed.

His hearts race when the two suddenly get up from the booth together and make their way to the back of the restaurant. The male getting a little touchy with the little female. His hand sliding between the pieces of her clothing as they went out the back exit door.

Suddenly he grew aggravated at this little female for accepting such an untalented, useless human. He didn’t even let her finish all of her food! Pathetic! She didn’t accept him, it was a lie! A fling!

Quickly pushing forward towards the back of the restaurant. He could hear the sloppy kissing this male gave the little female. Their hands eager to rid of their clothing and he can’t have that.

This little female was his to mark. This little female was his to f*ck. What makes this useless male think he could commit such acts against his little female?

Entering the back alleyway, his form casted a shadow into it. The moonlight shining against the back of his armor. The sounds of a sloppy make-out and light groans greeting his ears. His gauntlet twitching.

Getting closer. He suddenly snarled, scaring the feeble male off his little female. A scream coming out of him as his heart beated rapidly in his chest. His hands quickly fumbling to make himself more presentable.

“I-Is he yours?” The pathetic male asked, looking between him and his little female. Yes, and she is mine.

“No, he is not.” His female responded, glaring up at him. His c*ck twitching beneath his cod-piece. Is that a challenge?

“Then—”

Oh, how he wished to slam this guy against the wall until he was a pile of mush stained on the brick. He was lucky he couldn’t kill him…yet.

He growled lowly at the male as he attempted to reach for his little female, irritating him greatly.

“Yep, yep, I’m leaving.” The male said, putting up his hands in surrender. Backing up and making his way out of the alleyway.

“Really?!“ His little female scoffed up at him, wiping that weak male saliva off her neck. “I don’t know you!”

“And I don’t want to know you!” She rejected, a low growl leaving his throat. His c*ck pressing against his armor. His hearts clenching in his chest.

She can’t reject him! She was his as he was hers! Can’t she feel how he feels? Can’t she feel that? Sense that? Her c*nt called to him for a reason, she needed to be bred!

He turns to look down at his little female who walked away a few paces in front of him. Perhaps, he needed to show her? Show her that’s what she called out to him for?

He shoots forward and grabs his little female by the throat. A choked yelp leaving her as he places her down flat on the hood of the black SUV that was parked just behind the dumpsters. His leg pushing apart her thighs as her fruitful scent came to him much stronger.

He watches as his little female struggles beneath his gauntlet. Clawing up at his armor, glaring up at him with hatred in her eyes. His own saliva pooling in his mouth.

She curses and spits at him as it lands on his cheek and he couldn’t help but laugh lowly at her. His tongue coated in his saliva coming out to lick at it. Watching how her eyes widened in surprise.

He comes forward as soon as she was about the scream. His tongue shoving down her sweet throat, silencing her. His hips coming forth and grinding between her legs.

He can feel her falter for just a moment. A near victory for him, but her hands pressed up against his armored torso. Complaining groans vibrating through her throat as he didn’t leave her wet cavern untouched.

Ripping off her pants, she gasped underneath him. Giving him more room to shove his tongue down her throat, make her choke on it before he reeled back. His gauntlet fumbling for his cod-piece.

“Y-You son of a b*tch.” She coughed, her chest heaving as she made haste for his gauntlet on her throat again. Still un-submissive to him.

Freeing his c*ck, he pulled this string out of her hole and threw the thing to the side, her scent coming to him more strongly than before, a groan leaving his lips. Perhaps he should have done this the moment he saw her?

Taking a hold of his c*ck, he teased her bloody folds with the tip of his d*ck, his pre-c*m mixing with her blood, coating the lips.

His little female, to focused on being angry at him and cursing him out to notice. He slid himself right in, feeling how she immediately tensed up tightly around him.

“You— F*ck!” She cried out.

He purred, nearly blacking out of her tight c*nt sucking him in. His hips moving in a slow circular motion. Touching all the right spots inside of his little female as he could feel her visibly weakening beneath his gauntlet.

Thrusting upwards once. The whole car moves backwards before coming forward, settling her c*nt back onto his d*ck. A groan coming from both parties.

Thrusting again, he put himself at a slow rhythmic pace with the car. Watching with half lidded eyes as his little female became undone underneath him. Mewls spewing from her lips as she finally let go of his gauntlet. Submitting to him.

Pleased, he loosened his hold on her throat a little more while he leaned down to lick at her shoulder. His tongue slithering across her collarbone. Replacing that weaker males mark on her.

“More!” His little female demanded, crying out when he hit a weak spot inside of her.

He rumbled, releasing his hold on her throat and dragged it down her body and to her thighs. Then hooked both his gauntlet underneath her knees and folded her in half on the car and pushed deeper, faster. In hopes that damn male could listen to her cry out as he f*cked her.

Leaning his head back down. He opened his mouth to put his mark onto her neck. His eyes briefly looking at the forming bruise he made on her neck when he held her by the throat.

A couple more thrusts and he was burying himself to the hilt. Throwing his head back as he groaned out. Feeling how her walls milked him for all that he worth. His d*ck twitching, releasing his thick load.

Huffing, he felt his little female shake underneath him, then slowly go limp. Her tiny body too tired to stay up with his physique.

Oh, but he has so much more to give! He didn’t follow her around for nothing!

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #mating press march #tw: smut #tw: dubcon #I forgot what a Dennys looked like #it been so long #it’s a cursed restaurant #sorry he just…turned yandere? #tampon? get that sh*t outta here! #rip suv #oneshot #adeptus astartes #astartes x reader #space marine #space marine x reader #ask

[frvnkcastles]

WRETCHED & JOYFUL ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: Frank sees your scars for the first time.

Warnings: DESCRIPTIONS OF S*LF-H*RM SCARS. Please proceed with caution. Some making out, doesn’t go all the way to smut.

Word count: 1.3k

Author’s note: I broke my 3 month streak recently and wrote this to process. Much love to anyone who might relate <3

The weight of his body on top of yours felt secure and all-encompassing, the warmth and firmness of his bare chest stealing away the little breath you had left between seared kisses. His arms were over your head, closing you against the mattress, and you couldn’t help but shut your eyes and let the moment consume you.

It felt like a dream, one that you had repeated an endless amount of times, but this time, the feeling of his lips and the scent of his cologne were all real and not a mere figment of your imagination.

Right here, right now, this moment was perfect.

It wasn’t the first time Frank kissed you, and right now you doubted it would be the last, but you had never been like this — enveloped between his firm body and your soft mattress, the buttons of his shirt drawn open and his chest for your hands to wander across, and your breath hitched in your throat as he moved to kiss down your neck and his stubble grazed your skin.

It was entirely too overwhelming, in the best possible way, but enough to numb your mind from any mundane thoughts, any daily worries that haunted you whenever he wasn’t there. That was why you didn’t hesitate when his large hand dipped to the hem of your sweater — why it slipped your mind that undressing you came with the burden of what hid beneath.

Frank’s eyes roamed all over you, hungry and curious as he sat back just enough to take in the sight of you, his hands balling up your sweater and tossing it onto the floor without a second thought. With your eyes heavy with intoxication of him, you watched his chest rise and fall as he watched you beneath him, the denim of his jeans abrasive against your bare thighs.

Then, his gaze found your arm, and the half-hearted smirk on his lips fell. You recognized the look instantly, and you were punched in the gut with the realization that in your need for him, you had forgotten to worry about revealing all of you to him — and tonight, you weren’t concerned about dips of soft flesh or stretches of imperfect skin as much as you were about them. The scars.

A lump rose in your throat, and panic delved into your heart as you silently watched Frank process.

”Sweetheart…”, he finally spoke up, his voice husky and heavy with a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite decipher. But it wasn’t all pity — it was, on some level, understanding, and that somehow broke your heart even harder.

”Hey, we can pretend like I ain’t see a thing”, he continued, suddenly more of his assured self when he saw the fear in your wide eyes. Fear of what, exactly, he couldn’t pinpoint. Of rejection? Judgment? Well, he had hoped you’d expect better of him, but he understood. He did. He didn’t want to push or pressure, not when you looked like a single touch would shatter you right there and then — so he waited patiently, leaving it to you to tell him what you wanted.

”It’s okay”, you finally managed, your lip trembling slightly as you sat up on the pillows, brushing your hand across your scarred arm and not missing the way Frank tensed when you did. Still, there was something safe in the way he softly looked you over, convincing you to speak up. ”I—I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But it’s… not my favorite thing to constantly hide from you”, you hesitated, and swallowing, Frank sat down opposite from you and gave you a slow nod.

”You don’t owe me nothin’, sweetheart. But I promise, you ain’t gotta hide with me. Shit, you deal with my messes every goddamn day, yeah? I’mma stick by you all the same”, he promised, making sure to keep his eyes on yours, not staring at the faded scars littered across your arm. He remained patient and respectful with you, and you certainly noticed.

”Promise I’m not gonna scare you away?” you asked with a quiet chuckle and repeating the sound, Frank ducked his head briefly before glancing up at you.

”Promise.” He spoke so sternly, you couldn’t help but believe him. When he reached for your hand, you extended your arm over to him and let him encompass your smaller fingers against his palm. ”Y’know I love you, right?” he asked quietly, then, almost shy, and you melted into a smile.

”I know, Frankie. I love you, too”, you whispered before leaning over to him to press a kiss against his beaten nose. ”And don’t ever think you’ve caused any of this”, you pleaded, and with a hesitant nod, he made a silent promise. You knew him well enough to know he wanted to blame himself, which was why you were glad when he asked for clarification.

”You don’t gotta answer this. Aight? I make you uncomfortable, you tell me to shut the fuck up”, he insisted, and you couldn’t help but stifle a giggle. ”What, uh… What’s… How come, y’know?” he asked, stumbling, just a hint awkward but you appreciated his attempt to remain respectful.

You swallowed. It was a loaded question, but one you wanted to help him understand. ”Sometimes it just hurts too much. Too many loud thoughts in my head at once, too many overwhelming feelings… I guess, in some weird way, I just want to be heard. To be taken seriously. I’m hurting but when it’s on the inside…”, you struggled to find the right words. But the look in Frank’s eyes suggested that maybe he understood.

”Yeah, hey… I hear you, sweetheart. I ain’t sayin’ it’s the same, but that, uh… that makes sense to me, I s’pose”, he licked his lips, still holding your hand with soft caresses against your skin. ”And you’ve seen me. I got plenty of my scars, too. You’ve never once judged me, huh?” he reminded, and with a soft smile, you nodded.

A silence fell in the room, and you wondered if, after all, it had been a bit too much.

”Kinda ruined the mood, huh?” you chuckled nervously, and rushing to interject you with a pfft, Frank gripped your hand a bit tighter.

”Nah, don’t say that. I ain’t goin’ anywhere”, he gave you a grave look before gesturing at his lap. ”C’mere”, he whispered, and unsure what he was planning, you slowly crawled to straddle his hips, your hands landing on his chest while his came to rest on your waist.

”What are you thinking?” you asked with bated breath, watching his eyes as they eyed your arm with your permission, allowing him to take in the sight fully.

Slowly, Frank reached for your wrist and held your arm up so he could place a kiss along the scars, followed by another one, and another, and another…

”I think you’re beautiful”, he murmured, looking up into your eyes in a way that sent your heart reeling and stomach flipping. ”Fuckin’ beautiful and goddamn brave. You amaze me, sweetheart. So strong”, he showered you with praise, leaning in to kiss your jaw — not so heated this time, promising you that he had no ulterior motive, only the hope of showing you even a sliver of the affection and love you deserved.

”That’s bold coming from you”, you argued with a content sigh, and with a protesting grumble rising up his chest, Frank leaned into you more.

”This ain’t ’bout me. I fuckin’ adore you, ’s what I think”, he stated matter-of-factly, and when you broke into a faint smile, he couldn’t help but do the same. ”Means a lot you’d share with me. And hey, any time you need me to hold your hand through the urge, you lemme know. I’m all in”, Frank continued, his low voice sending a shiver down your spine.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and softly shushing you, Frank wrapped his arms around you and let you drop your head to his shoulder. He hugged you, his firm hands holding you tight as you cried, so grateful and so safe in his arms.

And while it wasn’t a fix or a solution, his promise to stand by your side was hope.

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader #tw: sh

[sodosshame]

Nights Like These

Daryl Dixon x Reader/OC

TW: Self-Harm, feelings of not being good enough, generally just depressing lol, swearing.

Based in Alexandria era, after Negan’s capture but before the Whisperers.

A/N: PLEASE please don’t read this if you think you’ll be triggered by self harm, it’s vaguely based off my own experiences but the last thing I want to do is trigger anyone. I wish you all well <3

Written in first person.

-

As I walk out the front door and sit down on the porch steps, I pull out my pack of cigarettes. Sighing deeply, I look around; how was everyone acting like everything is fine now that Negan and the saviours had been taken care of? Why did no-one seem to care that my childhood best friend was missing?

Why were they all acting like this is normal?

Taking a drag from my cigarette, I look up at the night sky, staring at the stars.

It’s not fucking fair.

I take the cigarette from my mouth, hovering it over my arm for a second. I glance at the various marks all over my arms; some from various experiences; some self-inflicted.

Rick would have yelled at me for even thinking about doing this again.

I think for a few seconds longer.

Fuck it.

Pressing it into my arm, I wince at the pain but stick to it, holding the cigarette there until I can’t feel the heat anymore. Taking a deep breath in, I wipe the ash from my arm and study the mark that’s already forming.

“Y/N? Wha-”

The voice stops and I feel a presence sit down next to me and look over to see Daryl; his eyebrows slanted up slightly, his mouth open a little.

Shit.

“I- Uh-”

He shakes his head, interrupting me.

“Ya don’t gotta explain yerself to me. I just- I’m sorry ya feel like you hav’ got to do this to yerself.” He says, his voice unusually soft- like he’s scared he’s going to hurt me if he says the wrong thing.

“Why does no-one care that Rick is gone? Michonne stopped looking. You’re always gone now and I- I don’t know…”

I pause, my voice breaking slightly. Taking a deep breath, I attempt to talk again.

“Nothing is okay. But everyone is acting like it is and I- I can’t deal with it anymore. I don’t think I even feel anything anymore, I don’t know what to do. I know I’m not myself, but I can’t get myself back.”

I look over at him, regretting the words as soon as they come out of my mouth. I watch as he chews on the inside of lips, clearly deeply thinking about something.

“I never stopped lookin’ for him, that’s why I’m not here anymore yknow. That and I can’t deal with this- the way everyone is actin’ in this place. I understand it, trust me.”

Daryl sighs and looks at me, studying my face.

“‘ave ya been sleepin’?”

“Not properly… I don’t think I’ve had a decent sleep in months.” I mumble in response, opening up my cigarette packet and holding it out for him to take one.

He nods, taking one. I take one myself and get out my lighter, lighting mine and then his. Inhaling deeply, I lean back slightly, blowing the smoke back out.

“Y’know, ya can come with me when I head out in the mornin’, if ya want.” He offers, looking over at me again.

“‘least then I can keep an eye on ya.” He mutters, glancing down to my arm.

“Thanks, Daryl.” I respond and gently lean my head on his shoulder. I feel him tense up at this gesture, but it doesn’t take him long to settle, gently putting his hand on my knee, rubbing circles on my leg with his thumb.

#daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon fluff #twd daryl #daryl dixon #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #twd #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon sh #daryl dixon angst #twd angst

[iseliljathedreamer]

Decided to whip out some colour pencils again and draw a scene from the fic I'm working on. My box of pencils (the ones that I like) has got almost exclusively bold colours, so this turned out a little more acid-y than I first intended. Dulling it in post turned out bad, so eh - maybe I'll go over it again when I get around to purchasing some of the singles I need.

#my art #tomarry #tomarrymort #harry potter #fanart of fanfiction #hp fandom #hp fanart #harrymort #older Tom Riddle #tom riddle #self harm #sh #depression #self h@rm