#tw ankle monitor

[writingreadinglurkingandsmirking]

Hold Me Down (Is This A New Start?) - Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: After a long, hard day of work you just want to go home and go to bed. But, when you get a persistent knock on your door from Rafe fucking Cameron. you know you’re gonna have a long night ahead. Letting him in, after two months of not seeing him, you fully anticipated a screaming match. But, you got something much different than you bargained for—much better too.

CW/TWs: brief angst, brief mentions of Rafe being on house arrest lol, feminine pronouns used, gorgeous/sweet girl/baby/darlin' as nicknames, toxic behavior, canon-adjacent Rafe, mean-ish Rafe, smut, piv sex, oral sex (male receiving), impact play, (not really) lowkey daddy kink, brat reader, dumbification, degradation kink, praise kink, overstimulation, breath play, unprotected sex (be safe I am nawt your mom gn), allusions to a pain kink for sure, mushy gushy sweet ending, not highly edited or reviewed

Words: 8.1k+

Note: 18+ MDNI, really just fucking don’t. I wrote this one in first person because writing in second person irritates my very soul. Uhhhh so this kinda came out of left field and I did nawt plan on writing this but here we are! But such is life! Anyways…back to regularly scheduled programming.

It had been a long day - too long. There was something exceedingly exhausting about living paycheck to paycheck that the average person didn’t understand. There was nothing quite as specific as the exhaustion that you encountered by overworking yourself day after day, week after week, month after month, all for nothing. Because that’s what this all amounted to. Nothing. Nothing extra at the end of the week to take home, nothing to do anything nice with. Just nothing. And nothing sucked the joy out of your day like knowing you’d have to get up the next day and do it all over again.

When I’d finally gotten home from a shift that didn’t end until almost the crack of fucking dawn - a good twelve hours after I was supposed to have gotten off shift - there was not a thing I wanted more than to sleep. Still, even as I sat on my fucking couch, my woes could not end. There was a loud, demanding knock on the door.

The first time I ignored it.

The second time I ignored it.

The third time, an annoyed voice accompanied the knock.

“Baby, open the fucking door,” came the snarl from the other side. I groaned and ran my hands down my face. I really didn’t want to deal with Rafe today. Not like that had ever deterred him before. “Baby, come on. Listen. Please. The cops are fucking trolling around outside. Baby, please open the door.”

I groaned and pulled myself to my feet, opening the apartment door. Standing there, looking at pitiful as ever was Rafe fucking Cameron. The bane of my existence. My more-or-less on-again-off-again boyfriend—though I’d sooner bash my head against the door than admit that. I glared at the ass who had done nothing but make my life harder since he’d entered it. Then, I stepped to the side and let him in. He stepped in and closed the door quickly, locking it behind him. He turned to me and pressed an absent-minded kiss to my forehead before going to sit down on the couch.

“You look like shit, darlin’,” he said. When he even had the decency to look up and notice I was there.

“Thanks,” I said dryly. I looked down at his leg. His ankle monitor looked fucked. “What the fuck did you do this time?”

“Just a little mod,” he said casually. “I needed to get out for a minute.”

“Why did you come here?” I demanded. “Did you stash more fucking coke in my house I swear to fucking God I will kill you. I am not catching a fucking charge for you, asshole.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why would I leave my coke with you knowing that you’d throw it out, baby? That’s just bad business. Besides, darlin’ the cops aren’t outside for me some loser is probably getting caught selling a few doors down again. And hey? It’s a crime to want to see you now, darlin’?” he asked, winking.

“No. But it is a crime to skip out on house arrest, Rafe,” I said blandly. “And I know damn well that you’re not here because you want to see me. I’m just convenient to you like fucking always.”

He rolled his eyes as if I were being the dramatic one. “What’s wrong now, gorgeous?” he drawled. “Always seems like there’s something these days, hmm?”

I clenched my jaw. “Fuck you, Rafe. Get the hell out,” I snapped.

Rafe frowned. Stood again and walked over to me. He placed his hands on my hips, refusing to leave. I, in turn, refused to look at him. “Look at me, darlin’,” he demanded. Reluctantly I did. “What’s wrong?” I didn’t answer. He brushed my hair back from my face and just kept looking at me. “Come on, sweet girl. Tell me…what’s wrong.” He smiled to himself when I still didn’t answer. “You know better than anyone I’m not going to leave until you tell me, baby…so come on…what’s wrong with my sweet girl?”

“Fuck you,” I repeated weakly, pulling out of his arms. I plopped down on my couch, curling into myself and closing my eyes. “Just fucking leave when you see the cops are gone. I can’t be bothered today.” The asshole had the audacity to laugh at my words. “Shut the fuck up, Rafe.”

Dramatically, Rafe sighed and knelt down on the ground in front of me. I felt him grab my knees and pull me to face him. I had no choice but to unfurl, otherwise, I would’ve fallen into him, which I had no interest in doing. So, I leaned back into the couch, trying to ignore the heat of his hand sinking into my cold legs through worn jeans. It was hard to ignore that. Hard to ignore any of him, really. And he knew that. That’s why he only waited through my stubborn silence for a few minutes.

“Come on, baby,” he hummed. “Tell me what’s wrong. I’m sorry I’m a dick, darlin’…you know I care.”

I laughed weakly, eyes still closed. “No. No, you don’t,” I said flatly.

He ignored my words and kept rubbing my legs. “It’s so fucking cold in here, baby,” he commented. “And your legs are freezing. Your heat not working?”

“No, it's working. It’s just too fucking expensive to heat this shitty goddamn apartment and I’m not forking over more money to the cunt landlord,” I said sharply, glaring at him. “Did you suddenly forget what life is like if—” I cut myself off, shaking my head.

He had the audacity to glare back if you could believe it. Then, he slapped my inner thigh. “I told you to call me if you needed help,” he hissed. He slapped my other thigh. “The fuck are you doing? What game are you playing at, baby?”

I pushed him away from me with my foot. “A game where I don’t need to rely on a man who is a fucking wannabe felon,” I snapped.

He rolled his eyes and got to his feet. “Newsflash, baby, you do need me,” he said, sounding way too smug about it.

“Fuck you, Rafe. I need a bullet to the brain more than I need you,” I sneered.

“That’s cute.” He continued on like I didn’t even speak in the first place. “I could give you that, if you want. But that doesn’t change anything about it, darlin’. You need my money, you need my cock, you need my love. You’ve said it yourself that no one gives it to you as good as I do. And I know you haven’t been looking which means you’re still as invested in this as I am. So.” He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. “When I tell you if you need my fucking money to heat your stupid apartment because your ass is too stubborn to move in with me…then you fucking call me.”

“You are not my fucking father,” I snapped, pulling out of his tough.. “Like I said. Bullet to the fucking brain before this shit anymore. I’m sick of it.”

“I don’t know. You do call me daddy a lot,” he mocked. He smiled down at me, but there was hardly any warmth to it. “But, oh? You’re so sick of it, hmm? You want to be brainless?” He laughed. “Well, I can make you brainless without having to put a hole in your pretty little head.” He wound his hand tightly in my hair, pulling my face towards his while I sharply inhaled. “And you’ll remember exactly why you’re not done with me, gorgeous.”

I glared at him. “I haven’t seen you in two months. The last time I did see you, you called me a stupid, worthless cunt and told me that you never wanted to see me again. And you think you can just show up here and get me to listen to you?” I demanded. I felt my face heating with my frustration. “Just like that? You think you’re…you think you’re worth me listening to?” I laughed. “Like I said. Fuck you, Rafe. I deserve…I deserve so much better than this. Than you.”

There was a mocking pout on his face. He reached out and grabbed my face again, squeezing my chin. “You think you’re going to find someone better than me?” he asked incredulously. He let out a laugh. “And where do you think you’ll find someone like that?” I didn’t answer. I refused to give him the satisfaction. He chuckled, but then his face went serious. “I’m sorry that I haven’t seen you in months, darlin’. I’m sorry that I said I never wanted to see you again. I was pissed, sweet girl. I didn’t mean it.”

“Oh you never mean it,” I said, the sarcasm’s impact dampened by the tearful sound of my voice.

He moved his hand from my chin to cup my face. I hated myself for it, but I did lean into the touch. “Come on, sweet girl…don’t be like that, baby,” he said. He leaned forward and dropped a kiss to the side of my neck. “You know that I love you.” Another kiss, followed by a short nip. “I’ve been busy, darlin’. That’s all. I’m sorry. I should’ve called, sweet girl. I know that. I’m not mad.”

“You were mad,” I accused, glaring at him.

“I was mad, baby,” he said, deceptively calm. “I was…frustrated that you wouldn’t let me take care of you. I just want what’s best for you. But I’m not mad anymore.”

“Well maybe I’m mad at you,” I retorted, harshness still lessened by the teary voice and the way I leaned into him.

“That’s okay,” he practically cooed. He pressed another kiss to my neck then moved so we were face to face, just a breath between us. He smirked, eyes drifting down to my lips and then back up. “You can be mad at me as long as you want, sweet girl. Just as long as you tell me that you love me.”

I sighed and closed my eyes. “No,” I said stubbornly.

“Come on, sweet girl, please,” Rafe purred, stroking my neck with his hand lazily. “I love you, darlin’.”

“I love you,” I said, voice breaking. My eyes popped open and I felt the tears in them.

Rafe’s smirk didn’t waver, but his eyes did soften. He let out a hum and wiped a tear that slipped. “There’s my sweet girl,” he cooed. He leaned forward and pressed a long, languid kiss to my lips. “Let me make it up to you, baby.” Another long kiss—lazier this time. “Let me apologize for calling you names, baby.” Another kiss. “Remind you that you’re my special, sweet girl.”

I huffed. “Oh so you wanna fuck me and suddenly I’m not a stupid, worthless cunt then?” I spat, voice dripping insecurity.

Rafe rolled his eyes so hard I was shocked that his eyes didn’t stick in the back of his head. “You’re not a stupid, worthless cunt. You’re my sweet girl and you know it,” he drawled. “I was a little fucking high when I said that. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”

I gave him a withering glare. “Oh and you’re not high now?” I asked even though I could already tell he wasn’t. He gave me a flat look and I deflated, leaning back, covering my face as I leaned against the arm of the couch. I sniffled. “Okay, I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. I didn’t mean it.”

He chuckled dryly and rubbed my leg gently. “It’d be fair if you did,” he drawled. He squeezed my leg. “And it’s fine that it’s not fair, sweet girl. I wasn’t fair. So.” He grabbed my legs and lowered them both to the floor. He gently pried my legs open leaning further into my space, hands dancing up both my thighs now. “How about I be real nice and make it up to you?”

“No,” I said stubbornly, glaring half-heartedly down at him. I felt his hand toy with the waist of my jeans, dancing just over the button. “I don’t want you to.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, unconvinced considering I’d begun to lean into his space more, opening my legs to give him more space to occupy, more space to get closer. “Oh?” he posed, tone almost mocking. “You don’t want to?”

“No,” I corrected, grabbing his hand, putting it back on my hair to silently prompt him to grab it just as he did before. “I don’t want you to be nice.” I glowered at him .”It’s been two months, Rafe. I need…”

He let out a low chuckle, eyes dark with quickly emerging lust. “Fuck, darlin’, tell me…what do you need?” he asked.

I blinked slowly, still looking right into his eyes, intoxicated by him already from such a short time together. “I need you to take care of me like you always do,” I said quietly.

Immediately, his hand wound tightly through my hair and he rose to his feet, forcing me to tilt my head up. I felt my breath hitch in my throat as I looked up at him, my eyes wide and wanting. I bit my lip, eyes trailing slowly down his body, to his belt at my eye level, and then back up. He chuckled again, grinning down at me. He wound his hand a bit tighter in my hair making me let out a squeak as he dragged me just a bit closer to his body.

“You need me to take care of you?” he posed, tone just shy of mocking. “Need me to help turn off that gorgeous fucking brain of yours, baby?” He used his free hand to trail down my cheek, fingers briefly touching my neck and stopping there. “Need me to fuck you stupid, sweet girl?”

Taking a shaky breath, I reached out, hand loosely holding his belt buckle. “Yes,” I said breathlessly.

I reveled in the sudden, sharp sting in my cheek. “Try again,” he warned, voice raspy.

“Yes…please fuck me stupid, daddy,” I said, batting my eyes up at him. “I don’t wanna think anymore.”

“Fuck,” Rafe muttered, his voice raspier still, thick with lust. He chuckled and loosened his hand in my hair before dropping it. He took his shirt off and then knotted a hand back in my hair. “Okay, baby. I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of my sweet girl.” He stroked my cheek gently with his free hand before moving it to his belt buckle and undoing it with ease. He then smirked down at me, inclining his head. “Well? Take me out, darlin’.” I glanced down at his open belt but he tutted, tilting my chin back up. “No, baby. Keep your eyes on me.” His request was one that was most easy for me to accommodate considering I felt like I’d die if I looked away from him.

My hands trembled as I reached forward, taking the belt off of him. I was ready to throw it to the side but Rafe held out a hand. Without even questioning it, I placed it in his hand. He then set it to the side and gestured with his head at me to continue. Which, I happily did. I heard him let out a quiet chuckle as I undid the button on his pants and brought down the zipper without breaking eye contact. I almost hastily pulled down the fabric until it sagged the rest of the way down. I raised my eyebrows at Rafe in a silent plea.

“What, baby?” he asked, amused, tightening his grip on my hair. I let out a weak whine and pouted. “What? You gotta tell me what you want, sweet girl. Use your words.”

“I wanna see your cock,” I responded, hooking my hand on the hem of the waistband of his boxers. I tilted my head to the side, jutting my bottom lip out further. “Please, daddy.”

He let out a dark chuckle. “Okay, baby,” he drawled. I hummed, pleased with myself, and looked down, prepared to take his boxers off. But, he tutted, turning my head up with his grip on my hair so I’d meet his eyes again. “Nuh, uh, darlin’. Keep those gorgeous eyes on me still. Don’t you dare even think about looking at my cock yet, baby. Just get it out.”

“But—” I began to complain before being silenced with another warning slap on the cheek making me whine and pull back slightly; not that Rafe let me get very far.

“No but, baby. You listen to me. Be a good girl,” Rafe warned, tone darkening. “You know I want what’s best for you, right, sweet girl?” I nodded through teary eyes, looking back up at him. He cursed under his breath at the sight, tightening and then loosening his hand in my hair once more. “Good girl, baby. Such a good fucking girl. Now, get my cock out. And don’t even look at it.”

I shivered at the order but complied. I reached and used two fingers to gently drag the fabric of the boxers down until they too gave way, falling down past his knees. Using every bit of restraint I had, I kept my eyes locked on his, refusing to look at his dick even as it hung directly in front of my face. Rafe hummed, his free hand moving from his side to wrap around himself, pumping lazily. I swallowed, biting my tongue as a reminder to keep my eyes up. A mocking laugh fell from Rafe’s mouth at the sight and I felt my stomach tighten.

“Oh there’s my good girl,” he cooed. “She can finally fucking listen, huh? So proud of you baby. Little slut that you are, I didn't think you’d be able to do it.” I let out a tiny whimper at his words, feeling a growing, heated pit of arousal low in my stomach. I shifted slightly, just barely able to keep my eyes from falling down. He chuckled again and pursed his lips. “How about you take your clothes off for me baby? Then I’ll let you look all you want at your favorite part of me.”

“All my clothes, daddy?” I checked. He nodded. I all but raced myself to do so. I whipped off the shirt I had on with ease and shimmied out of my jeans easily enough. Sitting there in my bra and panties, Rafe told me to stop and so I paused, looking up at him. “Yes, daddy?”

“Nothing, darlin’…just wanna look at you a minute,” he said, eyes dark with lust. “So fucking pretty, baby. God on fucking high, can’t imagine what I did to deserve such a blessing.”

“Stop,” I dismissed, blushing.

“Nah, baby. You’re a fucking twelve-course meal and I plan to have all of ‘em,” he dismissed, stepping closer and grabbing my chin. “And you aren’t gonna say some dumb shit like that again. We clear, baby?”

“Yes, daddy,” I murmured, feeling his thumb ghost up to trace my bottom lip. My breath hitched in my throat and he seemed to remember himself.

He pulled away and smirked down at me. “Bra and panties off. Let me see that pretty pussy, darlin’. Been missing it so much while I was gone,” he purred. I shivered at his words but peeled them off, shivering at the cold feeling of the air against my nipples and the cool fabric of the couch against my exposed core, quickly growing wet. “Fuck you’re so pretty. Look at you…all this…just for me.” He came closer again—even more this time—and his hand loosely went around my jaw, jerking my head up. “You are just for me, aren’t you baby?” I nodded immediately. He glared, his voice gruffer. “Words, darlin’. Or I might not be inclined to be too nice to you.”

“Yes, daddy,” I said breathlessly, wide-eyed. “All yours. Just for you.” I felt my heart beating rapidly in anticipation of seeing Rafe smile down at me. “Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?” he asked, hand still hooked around my jaw.

“Can I look please?” I asked sweetly, pouting up at him.

His lips quirked into a smirk and he narrowed his eyes looking at me, appraising. “I don’t know, baby. You think I should let you?” he asked.

“Please,” I said, pouting. “I just wan’ you. Want to see you. Wanna have you.”

“Awe with my sweet girl saying all that, well how could I say no?” he drawled, removing his hand from my neck to trail back and join the other in my hair. “Go ahead and look, darlin’. Take as long as you’d like.”

Ever so slowly, I broke my eye contact with Rafe, trailing my gaze down to his dick. Rafe’s confidence even as he stood bare as the day he was born was one of the things that had initially attracted me to him. But, looking at him now, lazily pumping his hand over his cock while he smirked down at me? I don’t think that I’d ever been quite so down bad for him. Which was…concerning, maybe? Pathetic, perhaps? But I didn’t care. At that moment, with his long, thick dick just hovering right in front of me, all I could think about was how badly I wanted him. Of how long I’d wanted him…of how long I’d waited.

“What? I don’t even gotta fuck you to turn that pretty brain off anymore?” he said, voice an alluring growl as he let out a dark sort of chuckle. “Got you so trained to take my dick you don’t even try to fight it, do you sweet girl?”

I shifted at his words, suddenly feeling my core flutter at his words, clenching regrettably—miserably—around nothing. His smirk increased tenfold at that and he stepped closer so that there was practically no space between us, not that there had been much before. Now, his cock stood proudly just next to my face. Again, ever so slowly I raised my eyes to meet his again. And the desperation must’ve been clear in my gaze if the smug, self-satisfied look in his were anything to go by.

“And this was supposed to be for you,” he hummed. “My dumb little baby won’t be able to think for herself and tell me what she wants when I get started, will she?” I let out a pathetic little whimper. “You just need something in that sweet little pussy and your perfect mouth, huh?” His eyes trailed down to my lips, briefly displaying the heated desire he was feeling before moving to meet mine again. “Tell me one thing, darlin’, okay? Think your cute lil’ brain can take that?”

“Yes, daddy,” I said, voice coming out breathy. I squirmed slightly, squeezing my thighs together to avoid doing something like grinding on the couch and making him stop this before it even started.

“I don’t have too much patience before I gotta get in that tight fucking cunt, gorgeous,” he drawled. “So…tell me. You want me to eat that pretty pussy? Or do you want to choke on my cock?” He grinned, sharp-edged and shark-like. “It’s up to you.” An aborted moan came out of me at his words. The answer for me, right now, at least, was obvious. I glanced down at his dick and then back up. “Nuh uh, darlin’. You tell me which one you want.”

“I want you to fuck my throat,” I whined, looking up at him wide-eyed.

Rafe chuckled, hands tightening in my hair. “I’ll give you a pass on not addressing me properly this once because you said something so sweet, darlin’. But don’t do it again,” he said, half-mocking, half-warning. I nodded eagerly. One hand released my hair. He pat my cheek and then held my jaw tightly between two fingers. “That’s my girl.” The possessiveness dripped off his tone. “Now be good for daddy and open that fucking mouth.”

My mouth fell open without much thought after that. He grinned as I left it open, tongue sticking out just the way he liked it. His thumb pressed down on my tongue, head tilting slightly to the side as he looked at me. I moaned at even that simple feeling, my body practically trembling with want for him. But, for a good few long moments, that’s all he did, slowly pressing his thumb more against my tongue. But, after a few moments, he drew it away, using his free hand to lazily pump his cock—still only half-hard—in his hand. I inhaled shakily, eyes looking at his heavy cock, knowing the weight and feel of it without even touching it.

“Mmm,” Rafe said, letting out a leisurely sigh as he jerked himself off in front of me. “You want my dick, sweet girl?” I nodded eagerly, tongue still shamelessly hanging out of my mouth. “You want me to make you choke on my fucking cock, baby?” Again, I nodded and he groaned. “You’re so fucking sexy, darlin’, fuck.” I watched with rapt attention as a bead of pre-cum leaked from the tip of his dick. I heard Rafe chuckle not a moment later. “Holy shit are you drooling, baby? Fuck, you really want this dick, huh? Well, I don’t wanna leave you wanting.”

Rafe used the hand in my hair to bring my head closer and anchor it in place. His other hand still held his dick that he was bringing towards my awaiting mouth. The second I felt the tip of his dick touch my tongue I groaned in appreciation at finally having something, feeling myself growing wetter and wanting. Already, with him not even having touched me yet, I was a mess. Rafe knew it damn well too. He chuckled, slapping his dick against my tongue making me inhale sharply then let out a tiny little whimper.

“Should I stop teasing you baby?” he said, voice measured, even, and entirely unaffected—as if he were in a business meeting and not getting ready to ruin my throat. “Should I make sure you lose your voice tomorrow now?” I nodded as best I could while ensuring that his dick did not fall from my tongue which just made him let out another low groan. “Alright, then, baby. You asked for it. Time for you to put that fucking mouth to work.”

I barely had the time to inhale before I felt Rafe’s heavy member settling against my tongue. I let out a breathy moan, reflexively hollowing out my cheeks and bobbing my head to take him further into my mouth. I moved my hands to touch him and he slapped them away.

“No fucking hands,” he grunted, pulling my hair so I’d look up at him before pushing me down to the hilt of him, nose settling against his pelvis. He cursed and I felt his dick pulse in my mouth as he looked down at me, eyes dark and wanting. “So fucking pretty when I’m stretching your fucking mouth open, baby. Look at you. So fucking good.” My core fluttered again at his words, clenching and unclenching while I felt myself starting to dampen the couch slightly the wetter I got. “Gonna fuck your throat now, darlin’.”

With the minimal warning issued, he thrust heavily, pulling out of my mouth almost entirely before thrusting entirely back in. I forced myself to breathe through my nose, relaxing before something unfortunate could happen like my gag reflex being triggered. I moaned around him, using my tongue as little as I could find myself able to when he started to consistently, aggressively thrust himself to the back of my throat. I whimpered at the feeling, grinding absent-mindedly against the rough fabric of the couch, letting my tongue trace along the vein on the underside of his dick.

Rafe caught sight of my desperate rutting against the couch and he let out a dark, slightly breathless chuckle without interrupting the pace of his thrusting. “God, look at my desperate fucking baby. What, is daddy not taking care of you fast enough? Fuck,” he grunted. “You wanna grind like a desperate, needy, brainless little toy? I should make you fucking get off of my thigh without me touching you?” My choked whine of displeasure at the threat made him let out another mean sort of laugh. “Don’t worry, darlin’. That’s gonna be for later.” I let out another whine at the promise then. “Yeah, baby. Gonna make you get yourself off on my leg and then I’m gonna eat your pussy so good. Gonna make you cum for me at least five times before I stop. I’ll fucking tie you up if I gotta, gorgeous. Gonna make my sweet girl so overstimulated she’s not gonna think ‘bout anything but my fucking cock…my fucking mouth…my fucking hands.” Each word was punctuated by a pointed thrust down my throat. “As if you think about anything else, my dumb little fuckin’ baby, yeah?”

When he pulled out of my mouth entirely, releasing my hair, I reflexively gasped in a breath of air, eyes wide and watering. I looked up at him. But, Rafe was still non-plussed by how fucked out I already was. He wasn’t even pausing, barely breaking even a bead of sweat across his gorgeous, obscenely perfect body. No, instead, he knelt down in front of me, one hand making its way immediately to my pussy and finding my clit like two ends of a magnet attracting to each other. He let out a low tutting sound, shaking his head at me as I bucked my hips against his hand before I could stop myself.

“So fucking sloppy, pretty girl. Is this all for me?” he asked, his voice both teasing and harsh. “Barely even done anything to you, baby. You’re just that much of a needy little fuckin’ slut for me, huh?” I let out a high-pitched keening noise and he hummed, wrapping his hand around my throat to make me focus on him even as he slipped two thick digits inside of me. “You want me, baby?” His voice was husky, rasping and his alluring eyes were locked intently on me.

“Yes, daddy,” I whined, voice weak around the whining and moans that I couldn’t help but release as he finger fucked me into oblivion. Even with so little direct stimulation, I felt my legs starting to tremble and my stomach starting to tighten, coiling and ready to barrel quickly towards release. Rafe could tell too based on the way my pussy was practically trying to swallow his fingers whole. “Please.”

“Please what, sweet girl?” he cooed, pretending like he didn’t already know damn well what I wanted.

“Fuck me,” I begged.

“Oh but you sound so pretty when you’re whining, gorgeous,” he groaned. “And I need you to be nice and fuckin’ ready for me. So I need you to cum for me before I fuck you.” My stomach tightened further just on the edge of sweet, sweet release that I’d been missing the past two months while he was missing on fucking house arrest. “Okay, baby?”

“Okay,” I sobbed, hips trying to buck even as he used his massive hand to direct my hips to keep the rhythm he wanted, the other tightening around the outside of my throat, making my eyes roll.

“Good girl,” he huffed. He paused his speech a moment, his fingers moving even faster, making me choke out a sobbing moan, head falling back until he squeezed my throat again in warning, making me lift my head. He then issued a command. A single word. “Cum.”

And who was I to disobey?

The coil in my stomach exploded into a mirage of light behind my eyes as they rolled back. I felt a slightly shrill shriek erupt from my mouth more than I actually heard myself. And all that I could think of beyond the veil and haze of pleasure was the feeling of Rafe’s hands, his skin so close to me. He supported my body as I slumped against him, both of his hands moving to rest low on my hips.

“Good job, gorgeous. You look so fucking pretty falling apart for me,” he encouraged, his voice an appreciative, warm grumble of affection. His hands ghosted up and down my sides. “You ready for me to fuck you, pretty little thing?”

“Yes, daddy,” I said, letting out a long, shaky sigh. I reached out, hands trailing up the planes of his solid chest, leaning my head on him to listen to his steady, calm heartbeat. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Of course, baby,” he said. I could hear the smugness in his voice but I didn’t care. He leaned me back on the couch and moved to get up. I let out a whine of dissatisfaction and grabbed his hand tightly, pulling him back towards me. He looked amused as he raised a brow. “I have to go get a condom, sweet girl.”

“No,” I said stubbornly.

“No?” he asked.

“Have you been fucking bitches on house arrest?” I asked, bottom lip jutting out.

He reached out, pulling my lip down and looking at it in undisguised intrigue. “No,” he admitted.

“Well, then you haven’t worn a condom with me before. So fuck’s sake, Rafe just fuck me,” I demanded.

Rafe’s eyes had a hardened sort of glee to them. His hand moved before I registered it and my head turned as his palm made contact with my cheek. Again, my core clenched around nothing. This time, I bit back the moan that threatened to escape.

“Who?” he warned, sounding all too happy to remind me of my place.

“Fuck me, daddy,” I reiterated, still with an extreme attitude. “Fuck me, don’t pull out cum in me, I don’t care. Just fuck me, daddy.”

“Drop the attitude,” Rafe said, a final warning.

“No,” I spat, knowing exactly where it would get me. You know, right where I wanted.

Instead of slapping me again as I’d first expected, Rafe tilted my head up with just his pointer finger under my chin, his shark-like smile back again. “Do you want to be punished, baby?” he asked, sounding all too eager. I offered no answer. He used his free hand and slapped me, harder this time. I couldn’t bite back the moan this time, or the way that my hand tried to drift between my legs. He caught my wrist easily to stop me. “Answer me or I’m gonna stop. I’ll walk out the fucking door, darlin’.” My bottom lip quivered at the thought, chest heaving. “Do you want a punishment, baby?”

“Y-yes, daddy,” I admitted after another stubborn moment.

“Well why didn’t you say so, darlin’,” he cooed sarcastically.

In a flurry of movement, Rafe sat on the couch and had me over his knee. My bare, soaked cunt made contact with his hard knee and I choked on a moan at that feeling. I barely had time to register the change in position before he landed his first hit on my ass. I yelped at the feeling, reflexively trying to squirm away from the pain, even as I felt a jolt of pleasure at the feeling. Rafe held my hips in place easily with one hand, keeping me firmly on his lap, and used the other to lay a hard slap against my ass, making me yelp again.

“That feel fucking good baby?” he grunted, slapping me again. I didn’t answer, a sharp, hissing inhale coming from my mouth. Another slap. Another whimper. “You should be fucking thanking me for this, darlin’. Disciplining your unruly fucking ass. Making you my good girl.”

“Thank you, daddy. Thank you, thank you. Please,” I whimpered, reflexively trying to squirm once more when his hand made contact with my ass yet again.

“Please, what, sweet girl? Remind you that you’re fucking mine? Oh, I am gonna, darlin’. This is just part of it,” he ground out. I could feel his rock-hard cock pressed against my side and I was torn between wanting it stuffed in my mouth and my pussy. Both thoughts escaped from my mind entirely as he landed another slap against my ass.

“More,” I ground out through clenched teeth, barely able to resist the urge to grind against his thigh and knee with the desperation that I was feeling.

“Needy little slut, you are, huh?” he asked, amused. His hands stopped their cyclical pattern of slapping my ass to rub the abused flesh for a moment. I felt his hand move between my legs more, teasing my entrance with his fingers. Naturally, I opened my legs for him. He chuckled at that. “Can’t wait to be stuffed with me, can you? Already brain dead to everything but me, aren’t you, sweet girl? You’re just my little plaything right now, aren’t you?” I buried my face in the couch and let out a groan, feeling his hand circling my clit again, lazily, not creating enough friction to do anything.

“Daddy, please,” I whined.

“Don’t worry, pretty little thing. I know just what you need to cum again. I decided I need two from you before I fuck this sweet little fucking pussy,” he grunted. With sudden and almost startling accuracy, Rafe slapped me again. This time, his hand made contact not with my ass but with my pussy, the sharp slap making me gasp and jerk from the pain. I let out a half-aborted scream and rocked back into his palm, panting from surprise. He openly laughed. “You didn’t think I forgot how much you liked that, did you, darlin’? Remember that real fucking well? So I’m gonna take care of this pussy just the way I know you need it.” I let out a breathy moan mixed with a cry as he spanked my clit once more. Again and again and again he did it until I felt like I was dripping sweat on my whole body and my pussy was soaked with my juices—the couch too for that matter. “Fuck me, baby, your pussy is so pretty all puffy like this. She’s just crying for me. You want me so bad your poor fucking brain can’t handle it, can it?” I let out a pathetic little whimper, unable to muster much more. “I tell you what, darlin’. You cum from me slapping this pussy and I’ll fuck you til you pass out if that’s what you want. You wanna do that for me?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” I gasped immediately, hardly even grasping the words just knowing that I wanted the pleasure that had been slowly building to finally reach its fucking crescendo.

“Good girl,” he said before unleashing a series of slaps to my pussy in a pattern that I couldn’t have anticipated if I were in his damn brain myself.

This time, as I tumbled over the edge of pleasure, I wailed, jerking against his hand. I collapsed against Rafe’s leg as the aftershock of the second orgasm washed over me. I gasped for air like I’d been drowning and I felt Rafe’s hand tracing up and down my back lazily. As I caught my breath, he placed a final sharp slap to my pussy making me let out a weak yelp of complaint. Without being too gentle, Rafe maneuvered me off of his lap and over the arm of the couch. He let out an appreciative groan and I lifted my head to look back at him. I was startled to see him lifting the belt. My eyes widened as I felt him wrap it around my wrists, quickly binding me.

“You’re not getting away from me, gorgeous. Not when I finally get to fuck my pussy again. You’re nice and ready for me,” he said, sounding almost absent-minded as he spoke to me. He grunted as he slid into me with a single thrust. When he bottomed out we both let out moans—his low and mine high and keening—and I felt my body shake. “Fuck. When you can feel your legs I’m gonna fuck you so hard in doggy you’re gonna not walk the day after. But right now I just gotta finish the job, baby. Gotta turn your fuckin’ brain off forever.”

With that, he started to purposefully piston his hips, holding my bound wrists behind my back for better leverage. I was nearly boneless, shrieking in pleasure as his hot, throbbing cock stretched me open and brushed against each and every nerve ending just right—at least that was how it felt. How he felt. His thrusts were deep and slow and pointed. I sobbed against the feeling, wanting to rut back into him to make him speed up. But, I couldn’t muster the strength. So I just let him fuck into me at his own pace and I felt myself starting to build towards another bout of pleasure—this bound to be even stronger than before if the stars already behind my eyes were anything to go by.

“Daddy, please,” I sobbed, not knowing if I wanted more or less stimulation, more or less pleasure, from him.

Regardless of what I wanted, Rafe didn’t say anything. He grunted out a noise of acknowledgment that I’d spoken then doubled down in his efforts to make me cum again. And when he wrapped his arm around my throat again, tightening quickly and entirely, it was over. This time, as he forced me to a third orgasm, I was actually sobbing, tears running down my face from the fucked up amount of pain and pleasure entwined in being so overstimulated in such a short period of time—especially after so long away from him.

“There’s my good fucking girl,” Rafe said, voice slightly hoarse as he slowed his thrusts to a stop.

He still hadn’t cum himself, his dick fully pulsing inside of me with how hard he was. I dreaded what that meant, even though I also fully anticipated what I knew would come. He gently undid the belt from around my wrists, releasing me, and then eased himself out of me. He flipped me around on the couch and I looked at him with big watery eyes.

“Please no more,” I said, tears slipping down my cheeks. “It’s too much, please.”

“Come on, darlin’,” he cooed, pressing kisses to my cheeks. “Come on, sweet girl. You can give me one more. Been missing my pussy so much. You know I need one more from her.” Another series of kisses, the last one a long and lingering, filthy one to my lips where his tongue entwined with mine and we both pulled back needing air. “Please, baby. One more for me.”

His hand moved down, gently tracing my clit, making me jolt. Already I was so sensitive, so overstimulated. But, the impossibly sweet and imploring look on his face? The hunger he had for me? It was impossible to deny.

“Okay, daddy,” I agreed, sniffling.

He leaned his forehead against mine, grinning. “That’s my girl,” he said softly.

He hitched my leg up over his hip, settling between my legs on the couch. He used his free hand to grip his cock, looking down at us. He gently slapped the head of his dick against my clit once, twice, a third time until I whined and he chuckled, reaching over to press a short kiss to my lips to shut me up. He ran himself up and down my slit over and over until I was shivering and he saw a tiny dribble of new arousal dripping from me. He let out a low moan of his own and then sank into me in one, hitching my leg up again so he could thrust as deep as humanly possible.

“There you are, gorgeous. There’s my beautiful fucking girl,” Rafe praised, pressing a kiss to each cheek, to my lips, and to my forehead as he steadily thrust into me. “So fucking perfect for me. So fucking good for me, baby.”

“You feel so good, daddy,” I said, eyes rolling back and then curling as he pressed down on the slight bulge in my stomach only present because of him. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Anything for you, baby. Fucking anything,” he grunted. He ground slower against me instead of thrusting for a few moments. “You don’t get to keep me from my pussy anymore, baby. I gotta fucking be with you.”

“Wanna be with you, daddy,” I babbled in agreement.

“Good fucking girl,” he huffed, pressing down on the bulge again making me whimper. I felt his dick pulsate again and I tightened around him habitually making his breath hitch. “You gonna cum for me one more time, baby? I’m so fucking close.”

“Yeah, daddy, I’m gonna cum,” I whined. “Please can I cum? Please, please, please?” I begged.

“Fu-fuck yeah,” Rafe stuttered. “Cum with me baby.”

And this time, as I fell across pleasure’s razor edge once more, Rafe fell with me. I felt as he came inside me, hot and deep. My eyes rolled at the feeling, almost addicted to the mere feeling of him being so close and intensely part of me at that moment. I held him without realizing it, nails digging into the skin of his back as I held him against me, ignoring the fact that I was trembling like a leaf.

“So proud of you, my sweet girl. So good for me, gorgeous. Love you so much. So good for me.” Those were the first things I was coherent of hearing again when the whooshing in my ears had faded. They were the sweet praise that Rafe was offering. He went to move—to pull out—but I held him to me still, almost wrapping myself around him like a koala to stop it.

“No,” I denied. “Don’t move yet.”

“Okay, baby,” he agreed. “I won’t pull out. Do you want me to hold you?” I nodded. He carefully moved us. I winced as he adjusted us so that I was sitting up and in his lap because it made him deeper for a moment still but as we settled that faded and I just melted into his chest. “I’m so proud of you, baby. You did so good.” He stroked my skin and hair for a moment. “I gotta get you cleaned up, sweet girl. Get you some water.”

“Not yet,” I denied again, eyes closed as I leaned against him, as much of my skin touching him as possible. “Take care of me in a minute.”

He chuckled. “Oh? You’re gonna let me take care of you?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I answered absent-mindedly. “Fine. You can take care of me, Rafe. I’ll stop being stubborn.” I needed his help. He’d been right about that when he showed up, I was adult enough to admit that. And I knew that he loved me. That he meant it from the best place.

“Really?” he asked, disbelieving. “You’re gonna move in with me? Let me take care of you? Just like that? All I had to do was fuck you like that?”

“Yeah. That’s all you had to do,” I agreed, far too exhausted to explain the complex detail of it in truth. I let out a breathless laugh though, a thought occurring to me when I felt a cool bite of metal and plastic on my leg. “Well, as long as you don’t get arrested for busting out of house arrest.” I cracked open my eyes to give him a smile.

“Shut up, I'll be fine,” he muttered. His hands held me closely, tightly, possessively to him. “You don’t get to take it back. I get to take care of you now. To make sure you’re safe. You’re gonna live with me, sweet girl.”

“Okay, Rafe,” I agreed softly, reaching up to stroke his cheek gently. He leaned into the touch and I smiled. “I will.” I leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, laying my forehead against his.

“I love you, baby,” he murmured, so quiet I could barely hear it.

“I love you too,” I replied, just as quiet, just as simple.

He smiled at that, the sight making his eyes go warm and sweet. “Alright, then, gorgeous. Let’s get you cleaned up and get the fuck out of here,” he said. His smile morphed into a cheesy sort of grin—the kind I rarely got to see. “Let’s go home.”

For once, I couldn’t disagree. And I couldn’t help but echo the cheesy smile. “Okay, then, Romeo,” I teased. “Let’s go home.”

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron one shot #obx x reader #obx smut #obx x you #obx fic #obx fanfiction #obx angst #outer banks x reader #outer banks x you #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fic #rafe imagine #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron obx #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #my writing #obx

[sumeruin]

tag, you’re it!!

pairing: yandere! dottore x afab test subject! reader

tw: written by a minor!!!, dddne, heavy noncon, wound fucking, gore, biting, mentions of vomiting but it doesn’t actually happen, biting, lots of blood, blood drinking, kidnapping, drugging, use of weapons, stalking, pet names, dehumanization, i think that’s it, but if i missed anything please let me know!!

a/n: i honestly can’t defend myself on this one um. enjoy <3

minor writing smut, dni if uncomfortable!!

you don’t think your heart has ever beat so fast. you can feel it racing beneath your skin as you run barefoot through the forest, blood rushing through your veins as you hold a hand over your mouth to muffle your desperate, horrified sobs. behind you, you can hear the man that’s been chasing you for the better part of an hour. his heavy footsteps, his terrifying laugh, his sickeningly mocking remarks as he spots the footprints you leave in the mud, unable to cover them up with him right behind you. the wind cools the tears on your face, and it feels like the archons are mocking you. you internally curse them for not granting you a vision, a way to get out of this horrible situation.

your legs burn, and your pace involuntarily gets slower as you sob helplessly, his voice filling your ears, condescending and horrible. “what’s the matter, little rabbit? i can hear you crying.” your legs give out, and you collapse on the muddy floor, your sobs increasing in their urgency as his footsteps get closer and closer. you squeeze your eyes shut, curling your body against the tree you fell against as he finally reaches you. you haven’t gotten a good look at him yet, and you hope you never do. you don’t want to put a face to the voice that’s been tormenting you all night.

you flinch when he reaches a hand out and strokes your cheek, shockingly gentle compared to what you had expected, and he lets out a condescending chuckle and yanks your jaw up to meet his eyes, growling out his words as he speaks. it seems he’s dropped the faux kindness from earlier. “look at me. look at me.” when you obediently open your eyes, sniffling and letting out pained sobs every few seconds, he grins, baring his unnaturally sharp teeth from below his mask and nodding as he appraises you. you feel like a piece of meat, and you’re sure that’s his intent. to dehumanize you, make you feel less than.

he nods to himself, then speaks again. “good. you’ll make a fine specimen, i’m sure.”

you stare up at him in fear, doe eyes widened as you try to flinch away from his iron grip. he doesn’t let you, you didn’t expect him to, though your struggling does seem to please him. you find yourself only more terrified at that fact. your voice is quiet, weak, and he only grins more at the sound. “what… what do you want from me?”

he doesn’t respond, only gives you another horribly wrong looking smile before, almost inhumanly fast, pulling out a syringe and sticking it in your neck. the last thing you remember before everything goes black is how painless it was. like he’s had practice.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ୨୧ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

when you wake up, the first thing you notice is the apparent lack of foliage around you, instead replaced with sinister looking metal structures and cages that are stained with something that looks horrifyingly like blood. the second thing you notice is how securely restrained you are. there’s tight, thick straps around your wrists, elbows, knees, ankles, neck, and waist, all of which have locks on them, presumably so you can’t escape.

your mind wanders back to the man in the forest, and what he injected you with. how quickly it worked and left a gap in your memory. as you think more about it, you consequently get more scared. you’re suddenly pulled out of your thoughts by a loud, horrible beeping noise, which you come to realize is the heart rate monitor you’ve been hooked up to. you try to take deep breaths to lower it before the man comes in and realizes you’re awake, but you fail. of course you fail.

his footsteps fill the room, and the beeping gets faster as your heart rate increases more with the terror he inspires in you. he smiles at you again, and his voice rings out, terrible and anxiety inducing. “i see you’re awake. tell me, what’s gotten you so worked up, hm? is my laboratory scary? do you not enjoy your accommodations?”

he leans in closer to you, and you feel tears starts to pool in your eyes as your body fills with dread. the man seems amused by this, cooing softly at you and pinching your cheek in a way that’s somehow more dehumanizing than anything else he’s done so far. “please… please let me go,” you’re painfully aware of how pathetic you sound as you speak, but you hope he’ll take pity on you instead. realize you aren’t meant for whatever he has planned and release you, though you know deep down that you aren’t that lucky.

he laughs, then shakes his head no before speaking again. he talks too much, you think. “i’m afraid i can’t do that, little rabbit. though, i suppose some introductions are in order. i am il dottore, the second of the featuring harbingers, and your new master. i’ve had my eye on you for some time, dear. you… intrigue me. i have never seen someone quite as pretty as you are. so, you see, i just had to have you. you understand, i’m sure,” his voice gets on your nerves, though you know it’s best to be compliant when dealing with lunatics, so you simply nod your head as best you can with your restraints as he continues.

“good. you must be wondering what i plan to do with you, correct?�� you nod again. “i have many ideas, i can’t say i’ve ever felt this way before, especially about someone as insignificant as you, so there’s quite a few things i’d like to try. of course, i will bathe you, then examine you more thoroughly than i managed in the forest. after i’ve collected your baseline vital statistics, and you have been thoroughly examined and cleaned, i will take you. for my research, of course. i believe it would be beneficial to encourage in coitus with you, as it might help me to better understand the origin of these feelings.”

you’re sure he can see the alarm on your face at how casually he mentions violating you in such a personal way, for he gives you a pat on the head that you think is meant to be comforting. it has the opposite effect, it only makes you more concerned. you shake your head no and give him a desperate, pleading look, your eyes filling with tears at the thought. “please, no! anything but that, i swear i won’t ever try to leave, just… please, don’t!”

his eyes light up, and you finally realize he’s removed his mask. you had been too caught up in your panicked fear to really pay attention to him, but as you examine him, his heavily scarred face, his blood red eyes, his aquiline nose. he’s… undeniably attractive, your brain supplies. you immediately try to push those thoughts away, he just said he was planning on raping you, for archon’s sake, you cannot find him attractive. he clearly picks up on your inner struggle, judging from the amused smile he wears and the way he leans in closer to you, softly caressing your cheek with the back of his knuckles.

“i suppose if you’re that against me taking you vaginally, i could find another way to have you. though i can’t promise it will be as pleasant. it is quite hard to give the recipient pleasure in other orifices,” his cologne fills your nostrils as he leans in so close to you, your lips just barely touching. he smells like roses and leather, with just a hint of blood and bleach along with other chemical smells you can’t quite place. you hate yourself for thinking it, but it’s not an entirely unpleasant scent. in fact, you think you’d quite enjoy it on anyone else.

he hums, nosing against your throat and leaving a bite where your neck meets your shoulder. it’s painful, and you have to bite your tongue to resist crying out as the tears that had been building finally start to fall. you can’t hold back the choked sob that escapes when you feel the copious amount of blood that falls from the wound, sure to leave a scar. an inescapable, undeniable, permanent reminder of what he’s done to you and what he plans to do to you.

he ignores your distress, only whispering half hearted coos as he licks up all the blood from your fresh bite mark and groans softly at the taste. the realization that he’s getting pleasure from this makes bile start to rise up your throat. “shh, shh… you taste divine. perhaps that’s why i’m so enchanted with you. you’ve put a spell on me.”

dottore softly laps up the blood that pours from your wound, and you hate yourself a little more for thinking the feeling is somewhat pleasant. his tongue is soothing on your wound, his saliva is unnaturally cold, and surprisingly doesn’t make the cuts sting. you don’t know if it’s the blood loss or the paralyzing fear you’re feeling, but you can’t bring yourself to push him away.

he pulls his mouth away from your wound and wipes the last few beads of blood away from it with his thumb. he examines the way the ruby red liquid reflects the light and contrasts the back leather of his glove as it sits on his finger, and then he brings his thumb to your lips, his tone leaving no room for argument as he commands you. “open.”

you reluctantly obey, looking at him tiredly as the blood loss starts to hit you more and more, your vision slowly starting to become fuzzy at the edges, painting everything in a sort of giddy haze as the pain mixes with the pleasant feelings his sweet words and scent invoke in you. he gives you a smile, patting your head once again as he slides his thumb, still carrying your blood, into your open mouth. “good… good pet,” his hand strokes your forehead comfortingly, and the lights suddenly seem all too bright, your eyebrows furrowing weakly as you try to turn your head away from them.

“shh… just sleep, little rabbit. i’ll take good care of you. when you wake, i’ll be ready for the last part of my plans.”

you don’t have time to really think about what he means by that before the fuzzy edges of your vision fade completely to black, your consciousness quickly ebbing away.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ୨୧ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

you’re passing out far too often for your liking, you decide as you come to. this time, you’ve been restrained on a soft bed in what looks like the private chambers of some very wealthy individual. it takes a moment for everything to come back to you, but the dull, throbbing pain in your shoulder quickly helps you remember.

you examine your surroundings once more, taking note of the black and dark blue color scheme of the room, along with the silver accents and luxurious feel of, what you assume is, dottore’s sheets. as you try to move to assess how secure your bindings are this time, you come to a horrifying realization. you aren’t wearing your knee length, cotton chemise anymore, and there isn’t a trace of any mud on your skin. someone has bathed and changed your clothes, into a much more revealing, practically see through babydoll dress.

you realize something even more horrific as you examine your body more closely. someone has also shaved you completely bare.

your attention is snapped to the door as dottore enters, holding a briefcase that gives you a horrible feeling. “good, you’re awake. i was almost worried i had injured you fatally.” he sets the briefcase down on the bed, not giving you a moment to speak, and pulls out a terrifyingly sharp dagger, turning to you with a small smile.

“now, since you seemed so distraught over me having vaginal intercourse with you, i’ve decided on an alternative,” he doesn’t elaborate further, only approaching you and inspecting your body as he marks out various places, mostly on your upper thigh or abdomen. you feel horribly exposed, wearing nothing but a sheer, short babydoll, but there’s nothing you can do about it. you have no idea what he plans to do, but you’re sure it will be torturous.

he finally settles on a spot, a fatty area just above your belly button on the left side, and he walks over to that side of the bed with the blade. he marks out a relatively large circle with a pen, and you realize what he means to do.

your struggles are reignited, and you start to sob as he places the pen back in his breast pocket and gently shushes you. “calm down. it will only be worse for you if you struggle, dear.”

your sobs grow louder as he makes the first incision, you start thrashing around in your bindings and trying desperately to get away from his blade. you give him a pleading look as he continues to carve a horrifyingly deep hole into your skin, and your voice is weak, breaking with every word from the excruciating pain of getting carved into without any sort of numbing solution. “p-please, can- can’t, ‘s- ‘s hurting me, st-stop-!”

he completely ignores you, grabbing a bottle of antiseptic from his bag and spraying it on the large wound. your pain is only increased, and you realize why you’re retrained so tightly. he finally looks back at your tear covered face, and gives you a smile as he pets your hair. “there, the hard part is over. now it’s time to continue the experiment.”

you sob, shaking your head no as you cry out from the pain, watching in horror as he undoes his pants just enough to pull his cock out. he positions it at the hole he’s created for himself, and, without any sort of warning, thrusts himself deep inside. you cry out, choking on your sobs and gagging from the all encompassing pain as bile starts to rise up in your throat once again.

he gives a deep moan as he starts to move, completely uncaring of your protests and the agony you’re in as he chases his own pleasure inside of you. his fingers curl around the other side of your torso, and he pulls you into each of his thrusts, only increasing your pain. “you truly are fantastic…”

you think you’re going to be sick.

how dare he enjoy this? how dare he violate you in such a way and have the gall to moan about it? if you had the strength, you think you might kill him.

you dissociate for most of the experience, something your eternally grateful for. you don’t want to remember any of it. the feeling of his thrusts into your limp body starting to falter and his cock twitching inside your, now more of a gash, really, remind you of the very real threat that he’ll cum inside of your large wound.

before you get a chance to plead with him not to, though, you feel the burning, hot liquid fill the space nothing should ever touch. it hurts, almost more than the actual fucking did, and you think you pass out from the feeling.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ୨୧ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

when you come to for the third time, you’ve been bandaged and stitched up and dottore holds you in his arms, tucked snugly against his side while he writes notes, presumably about the torture he’s just put you through. he smiles down at you, petting your hair once again before he stands up, leaving you tied to the bed. “i wished to make sure you would wake up. now i must get back to my work.” he pauses in the doorway as he leaves. “you were wonderful, and my hypothesis was incorrect. having intercourse with you did not cure me. in fact, it only made me more taken with you. …i have decided to keep you, in light of this revelation.”

with that, he swiftly walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. you cry softly to yourself, and then feel a sudden weight on your lap. as you look down, you feel bitterness fill you at the sight.

there, sitting perfectly on your lap, taunting you, is a shiny, anemo vision.

#⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ angel’s creations ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ #tw: noncon #tw: wounds #tw: kidnapping #tw: drugging #tw: gore #dddne #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #yandere genshin smut #yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin dottore #yandere dottore smut #yandere dottore #yandere dottore x reader #dottore x reader #dottore smut #dottore #genshin noncon #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader smut #genshin x you

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Strawberry Lemonade

♡ featuring: toji x f!reader

♡ synopsis: you plan to make strawberry lemonade for the summer, but life has other plans. wc: 1.7k+

♡ cw/tw: just some fluff, toji kisses :3

notes: idk why i kept thinking about soft cottagecore toji my brain fhioshafiohiaf this was so self indulgent srry for any mistakes ive been sick for a few weeks lol <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

After heavy rain showers, sun rolled in and devoured everything beneath it.

Toji doesn’t like summer. He wasn’t exactly fond of the heat rays rippling across the pavement, his black slides bonding like tar if he stood in one place for too long. His bangs would mat to his forehead, and it was overall a hassle to tolerate. He’d much rather laze under air conditioning for the entire season.

Until you came along.

He’d never met someone so delighted over sweat and mosquitos before you. Maybe that’s why he slowly became accustomed to such weather. You weren’t shy about your strange habits. After all, on your third date it poured like no other, and instead of taking cover, you skipped through the rain. It was strange, yet he cracked a smirk at your wide grin.

You’re happy and that’s good enough for him.

You were elated at the promises summer bore, specifically for your plants. Fruitful flowers meandering on branches, the first sign of hibiscus blooming. Every year around that time, you carried your plants outside to bask in her warmth. It was all an invaluable gift from Mother Nature, and you did your best to honor her.

Of course, Toji had to purchase a house with the most sunlight, and a backyard to match—not with you in mind, at least that’s what he’d day as he avoided your gaze. He knew your housewarming gifts would consist of planting tools, but the sheer amount of it was staggering.

It was no surprise you planted your seeds the next day and watched them like a hawk. Toji was sure to mention how much of a “weirdo” you were for spending so much time caring for your perceived babies. A weirdo he loved, because he left marks of his affection in every nook and cranny. Sure, he feigned annoyance over it, but you knew better when he did things you didn’t ask for. Toji isn’t a verbally expressive husband, but his actions make up for the rest.

Like when he built a wooden potting bench to store the inventory accumulating in the corner by your plants. You came home as he was applying the finishing touches and embraced him for what felt like hours. He rolled his eyes, pretending to be unfazed by your gratitude, though you could still see the growing ghost of a smirk; “Don’t thank me, that thing was an eyesore.”

It benefited him, too, to gaze through the screen door in the afternoon and see the gorgeous sun-kissed glow on the apples of your cheeks. He adored your soft eyes that diligently monitored the seeds starting to sprout with a tender smile.

You filed chunky soil into terracotta pots you painted with various designs. The one that resembles a tiny cactus with a face grew a bundle of basil. The other one similar to a tiered strawberry cake grew a fitting crown of strawberries. You weren’t looking to bake an outstanding cake or be the best gardener. For the fruits of your labor, the only thing you wanted was—

A single pitcher of strawberry lemonade.

Toji trudges down the stairs half-asleep and enters the kitchen to pour the usual cup of coffee you make as you wake before him. However, there’s no jug awaiting him. He opens the screen door and finds you kneeling over the pots, sporting a bow knot straw hat and an overall romper in the sweltering heat. Your brows are furrowed, and you pick at the foliage.

He leans against it and scratches his ankle with the tip of his slides. The screen clicks the side, and you turn to him.

“Oh, hey.” There are somber notes in your voice, and something in his body wants to reach out and protect you from whatever’s pulling your face into a frown.

“Hey.” He walks over to you. Your lips are tucked behind your teeth, poking at the strawberry in your palm. He kneels on one knee and you glance at him, flashing a meek smile. He wishes he didn’t have a closer view as your eyes threaten to brim with tears. Oh…his heart, tight and struggling to beat.

Toji was used to loud, ugly love. But you—your love was as gentle as the petals of an orchid, and you’d changed him without even trying. That’s why he adorned your ring finger with precious diamonds. He became a better man and husband in your arms, and in turn he’d give you the world if you desired it. So why were you about to cry?

“What’s up?”

“Nothing…” His eyes follow yours, to the flourishing bunch of basil. And then to the lackluster strawberries.

The ones still hanging from their stems aren’t award-winning. They’re deformed, with multiple nubby ends protruding from every side. They look more like hopeful raspberries than anything else. There’s a considerable pale color washed over half of them. You mold one in your palm.

“Can’t be nothin’.” He picks the strawberry from your hands and observes it with two fingers. It lacks seeds and a deep, rich red. “I just don’t know what went wrong.”

"Who said somethin' went wrong?" You lock eyes, and he pops it in his mouth.

Yours widen, and you cup his face to try and force it out his mouth. “Don’t!”

Toji bites, and in an instant utter sourness prickles his tongue. There’s a strawberry flavor, but not enough to combat. The sting is strong, and when it coats his throat, his tongue contorts to fight the sheer bitterness.

Somehow, he remains stone-faced—a battle with his gut reaction. He can’t bear to break your spirit, not like this, not when you’ve spent months strategizing and waiting for your efforts to ripen. Toji tells the harsh truth, but when it comes to you, he’s willing to be selfish.

He continues to chew while you nervously fiddle with your fingers. You gaze at him, doe-eyed and anticipating his response. The lining of his cheeks excretes copious amounts of saliva, and he finally swallows.

“S’good.”

“R-really?” You’re shocked that they’re edible in this state. He nods and it relieves some of your worry, though you’re unsure about his honesty.

He thumbs the wetness on your lashes away. “Said I like it, so make some of that lemonade ya talked about so much.”

You place a handful of strawberries on the kitchen counter and get to work. You haven’t tried them out for yourself yet, but you don’t want to waste any considering how small they are. Toji stretches out on the chair, black tank riding up as he watches you slice the tips off the strawberries. Your delicate fingers handle them with such care, just so you don’t disappoint with an unpalatable drink. Cute.

When you’re done, the rose-colored liquid fills half the pitcher. You top it with basil and stir it around. You pass a glass to Toji, heart-shaped ice cubes floating on the surface, and sit across from him.

“Let’s try on the count of three.”

“Mhm.”

“Okay! One, two-“ Toji doesn’t stop for the counter and begins to gulp the drink. You take a sip of yours. The tooth-rotting sugar did some to quell the taste, but it was still insanely sour. Your lips purse and you shut your eyes, emitting a tiny squeal. It’s your first attempt and you know you shouldn’t be so critical of yourself, but you can’t help but feel like a failure.

When you open your eyes again, you’re dumbfounded at the empty cup in front of Toji. He licks his lips, “It’s good, baby. Why you look like that?”

“No way.” He tilts his head like he didn’t just consume a liquid jawbreaker. “Hm?”

“It’s…it’s really bad, Toji. You don’t have to lie to me.” You avert your eyes and stare at the condensation running down the glass of your unsuccessful project. He wraps around the table and leans against it while you’re sitting. He cranes your neck with a calloused hand underneath your chin.

“Look at me. I’m here”

“I really wanted it to work. I spent so much time on it.”

“I know, don’t take it so hard. I like it.”

“You just don’t wanna hurt my feelings.” You weren’t entirely wrong.

“It tastes good 'cause you made it.” When you don’t respond, a malicious smirk spreads on his mouth. “Wanna try?”

Toji bends down. He squeezes your face to puckering and plants a deep kiss on your lips. Rough and meaningful, and you melt into it. He releases his grip and follows it with warm plush kisses chasing your contact. His lips are soft but slightly chapped, fleeting hints of cane sugar and just enough basil to notice. Bitter like the descent of a bleeding sunset, the chill of autumn’s return. Silent assurance, that everything was okay, and will be okay.

He parts when you tap his sturdy bicep for fresh air. “Ya done bein’ a baby?” You giggle. Perhaps you overwhelmed yourself obsessing about it for months. He brings you back to Earth, and after the overthinking subsides, you think the outcome isn’t too horrible. A long deserved break is overdue.

“Yea” you sniffle, and he lifts you from the chair into his arms. You lock your legs around his back and bury your face in the crook of his neck.

“Now c’mon, I wanna lay down.” Lay down is his go-to phrase, but he actually means cuddle. He’d never say it, even when lying down quickly became Toji turning on his stomach and shuffling his massive weight onto your chest. It’s what you need right now, and the way his palm rubs up and down your back reduces your mind to mush.

“I’m being a bother” you mutter. He pecks your jaw.

“Nah. Love takin’ care of my little crybaby.”

Laying down becomes cuddling as you predicted, and you massage his scalp until he dozes off in slow breaths. Your favorite weighted blanket traps you between his muscles, and you happily accept.

You’re reminded of his vulnerability, his eagerness to trust without words. He took your problems and made them his. You both surrendered your fears and insecurities to love each other. You traded walls for strawberry kisses, and there’s nothing more you could ask for.

Daylight peaked at its highest point, and as you drift to sleep you wish summer wouldn’t end.

#toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro #jujutsu toji #toji x reader #jjk x reader #jjk

[prismaticfaery]

Little Bunny

John Price x Fem!Reader

Summary: Never in a million years would Captain Price think that he'd have a chance at a family, but with how dangerous his profession was and his chances of becoming a father becoming a reality, you and him have to learn the hard way that moving on is the best you both can do.

**TW: Pregnancy, vomiting, swearing, mentions of sex, alcohol, labor, childbirth, anxiety, panic, angst, unrequited love. (Forgive me if I miss any!)

Rating: Mature

This is not short, it's 10K words! Also, don't expect too much of a happy ending!

Part Two

A/N: I was debating posting this for so long out of fear it was trash, please be gentle with me! To add, termination is always going to be your choice and it’s okay to consider that option!

Fluorescent lights hung overhead, your eyes poorly adjusting to the harsh lights as you fumbled with a pen nervously between your fingers. You had filled out a small packet of papers on a clipboard, the receptionist telling you that your doctor would see you soon and to make sure every bit of information was filled in. When you had initially told the receptionist that it would only be you when she asked if you were accompanied by a partner for a confirmation of pregnancy ultrasound, she gave you a look, and you knew she was silently judging you for your situation. 

“Y/N?” You hear a nurse call out while propping a door open, breaking you out of your trance.

It was two weeks ago when you had realized your period was late, your work schedule and general hecticness in your life made you suspect that it was stress at first but when your period never showed even a week later, and with having a pretty normal cycle, you darted to the commissary on base and bought two boxes of pregnancy tests– two different brands to make sure. Yeah, you had been more tired lately, and you had lost your appetite more than a few times, but you knew that those could also be normal premenstrual symptoms. 

With your uniform pants and panties down to your ankles, you held two different pregnancy test in your hands, the trembling in your arms and hands from fear only became worse when the test slowly turned positive. With a harsh breath in, you hold it for a moment, fresh tears stinging your eyes when you finally release your breath. Your body felt frozen in place, unsure of what to do next. Do you tell him now? Do you wait? You were on birth control and never missed a dose, but of course, it’s not always foolproof. You weren’t even with the baby’s father on an exclusivity level, only really depending on each other for comfort and pleasure when you both needed it– not to mention he was your Captain, your superior. 

A hiccup leaves your throat, the metaphorical golf ball stuck in your throat nearly choking you as you place your head in your hands, those fresh tears gathering in the corners falling into your hands. You were active duty in the SAS and newly recruited into Task Force 141, though just a Sergeant, and you were living in the barracks, which was not the place to bring a baby up in, nor was it even allowed. You weren’t prepared for a baby to come along, and you knew that your Captain had no intention of having children while he always had a target on himself. You knew he wouldn’t take this news well. 

“It looks like you’re reaching nine weeks, strong heartbeat at 168 bpm– see it here?” the doctor pointed to the tiny fluttering heart on the ultrasound monitor. 

“I do,” you smile lightly, your eyes never leaving the small floating jelly bean that jerked and wiggled inside of your body. 

“Do you have support at home?” The doctor asked, her eyes meeting yours with a certain softness, knowing that you checked your marital status as “single”.

“Well I have my mother, but as for the other half of the child, he won’t be very happy,” you say, sitting up and adjusting the paper blanket draped across your nude bottom half. 

“Reach out to your mother, okay? Best of luck with everything,” the doctor takes her leave, giving you the privacy to clean up and put your uniform back on. 

You sat for a moment, the silence deafening save for the nurses speaking at their station outside the exam room door. You peek over at the ultrasound monitor, which had been paused on a picture of your tiny baby. Your heart ached, and you found yourself struggling to turn your head away, until a knock at the door sounded. 

“Here are your papers, there’s also a script for prenatal vitamins and some brochures,” the nurse smiles, handing you the small stack, “take care of yourself.”

The door closes behind the nurse and you decide that it’s time to finally get dressed. You wipe the ultrasound gel from your abdomen and lower region, and silently slip your clothing back on, your eyes never leaving the monitor until you notice a small black and white photo had been printed and attached to your after appointment papers. Your heart skipped, quickly tearing the photo from off of the stack to hold in your hands, your little baby’s side profile had been captured and you could see the tiny arms and legs scrunched up to its body. 

Checking the time on your watch, you pick up speed, remembering that you had a debriefing on a Task Force affair with your Captain soon and you were definitely going to be late arriving at it. You knew he wouldn’t be happy with your lack of punctuality, but you had proof that you were tied up in a last minute affair. 

Once arriving back at base, you could see the familiar form of Soap who was also a late arrival to the debriefing, but you knew it was because of his poor time management skills, or he was just waking up from one of his naps. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he spins around in a wild fashion. 

“Good grief, ya scared the shite out of me,” Soap held a hand to his chest. 

“Sorry, I was just curious if we could walk together to the debrief,” you question, your eyes pleading for him to agree as to save yourself from being individually called out by your Captain. 

Soap nods, his longer legs falling into step with yours, “you’re not usually late to these things, something must have had you tied up,” Soap scratches his head, yawning into his unoccupied hand.

“Oh you know, women’s issues,” you shrugged, Soap wincing at your words. 

“Ah, I don’t think you need to explain,” he chuckles, knowing damn well that he was treading into territory he was very familiar with, having to be around female soldiers– especially with being around you so much– taught him more than enough. 

Opening the door to the small debriefing room, you could see Ghost leaning back in his chair, one leg over the other while his arms crossed against his chest, his usual black balaclava covering his face. Gaz was in the seat adjacent to Ghost, his face blank– an almost bored expression showing. 

Price’s body language was showing very clear annoyance as he watched you and Soap enter, the awkwardness in the room causing you to fumble into your seat, the loud scraping of the chair leg against the tile floor made Price audibly sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“You two are late, don’t let this happen again or I’ll have you assigned cleaning duty for a week,” Price points his finger first at Soap, then at you, your eyes casting downwards in embarrassment. 

As the debriefing went on, you could feel the familiar crystalline blue eyes of your Captain steal glances of you. You make yourself small and scarce in the meeting, your arms folding across your upper body and your body slinking into your chair. You felt strange about having such a huge secret being hidden away from your Captain who was more than deserving to know about it, but you needed time to formulate a plan on how you were going to carry out telling him. It would be better to tell him sooner than later though because you could be deployed at any time and that would be a dangerous situation for you and the life that was growing inside of you. 

“Ghost, you and Gaz will be going to Russia for some recon, I need intel– any intel on where they’re moving next,” Price nods his head in Ghost’s direction, handing Gaz a debriefing packet on his and Ghost’s deployment that they’ll go over together at a later time. 

You feel your body tense as a very heavy wave of nausea washes over you, Soap noticing your eyes fluttering and your skin becoming ashen and shiny from sweat. Pushing his seat out with the back of his legs, Soap rushes over to the trash bin, knowing all too well you wouldn’t make it yourself. He shoves the bin into your lap where you attempt to shield yourself with your arms as you empty the contents of your stomach. Gaz winces, and Ghost is pretty much unbothered but keeping a watchful eye on you. 

“You alright?” Price askes as he makes his way over to your hunched over form. 

“No, I really need to go,” you heave a sigh, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Leave that, I’ll have someone clean it,” Price nods, motioning for you to leave. 

Long having discarded your uniform, you sat on your bed, staring at the white wall across the room. So many thoughts flooded your brain, and you felt like you were losing control of everything in your life all in the span of a few hours. You were young, and still inexperienced in life, halfway to reaching your thirties. The dried yet still sticky feeling of tears coated your cheeks and you felt like your heart would leap out of your chest every time you even thought of mentioning this pregnancy to Price. How the hell was he going to take it?

You knew that it would go two ways most likely– one: he’d walk away and break all contact, or two: he would tell you that he would support you and the baby, but would not be present.

A knock on your door broke you out of your thoughts, your voice cracking as you told the visitor to come inside. Price’s tall body stands in the doorway for a second before stepping inside and closing the door behind him softly. He knew it was risky coming into your room so early in the evening but he was willing to take that chance. 

“Everything alright? Soap said you were dealing with something– didn’t know the pain got so bad for you during that time of the month,” Price sits beside you on your bed, his taller form making yours tiny in comparison. 

“I’m alright, I just need to rest,” your voice is small with a tinge of exhaustion, playing into Soap’s assumptions of you being on your period. 

“You been crying, love?” Price’s large hand caresses your neck, his thumb dancing across your cheek soothingly.

“A little, yeah,” you smile softly, leaning into his touch. 

“You want to tell me about it?”

“Not really, if that’s okay?” Your breath catches in your throat, you knew damn well you should tell him, but fear froze you in place. 

“I understand, hormones and all that lot can be difficult,” Price sighs, the hand that rested on your neck falling back into his lap. 

You suck in a breath as his words repeat in your head. Did he already know? Or did he have an inkling of an idea? No, that wasn’t possible. 

You feel the familiar burn of bile rising into your throat, your legs making a mad dash for the bathroom across your small barracks room. Heaving what little was left in your stomach, you could feel your Captain’s cool hands gather your loose hair from your sweat covered neck and forehead. As you breath in and out heavily, a soft cry escaping your lips from the horrifying nausea pounding through your body, you feel Price’s free hand rub soothing circles along your back. 

“You’re alright, sweet girl, let it out,” the deep gravel in his voice was soothing. 

You gag and heave one last time before you begin to feel like the nausea is subsiding, Price’s arm reaching over to flush the toilet and then bring your body back to lay against him as he leaned back against the tub. Your shorter legs are pulled up to your chest as his thick arms engulf you. 

“I’m pregnant,” a sob escapes your throat, a trembling hand brought up to your now teary eyes, wiping away any stray tears that escape. 

Everything goes silent around the two of you, and you could tell John was formulating his response and keeping himself from reacting in a way he would regret. His arms go slack around you and you begin sobbing even harder at his action. 

“Did you not take your pills?” Was all he could muster asking. 

“I did, I did-!” you cry, turning your body to face him now. 

“Y/N, you know what this could do to us– to me, right?” Price’s voice was dangerously low now, a look of pure anger painted on his face. 

You knew all too well what this situation could do to you both. Demotion, dishonorable discharge, enemies who had a target on both of you– but more specifically him, would know that there is something precious and innocent that could be easily taken away. 

Price goes quiet, his eyes downcast as he thinks to himself for a moment, “I think you should consider your options.”

“So that’s it? You’re putting all of this on me?” your heart begins to sink into your stomach, knowing damn well that this was his way of telling you that he wanted to cut all contact and act like this situation never happened. 

“What will you have me do, Y/N, hm?” He points a finger at himself, the tip poking into his hardened chest. 

“At least consider options with me– it takes two-!”

“No, Y/N. No,” Price rises to his feet, leaving you in a puddle of anxiousness on the bathroom floor, your eyes frantically watching his hand swing the bathroom door open. 

“Please don’t–,” you reach an arm out to him, but he’s gone so quickly from your sight. 

You find out the next day that you were pardoned from work, formation, and PT for a full month, knowing that Price did this to allow you time to think about what to do with the pregnancy. You hardly left your room, and when you did, it was usually just to eat and do laundry. Soap tried to stop you a few times to catch up and ask how you were doing, but you instead offered a smile and a quick, “I’ve gotta go,”. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried out of his mind for you, sad eyes watching you disappear down the hallways. He was often your partner in missions and would offer a helping hand if and when you needed it. Maybe he just needed to wait for you to come to him? He would always wait for you. 

You stared at your discharge papers for days, the blanks filled out neatly, and the pen you used sat atop the thin packet. You were sure that this is what you wanted, and this would save John from the possibility of having everything he worked so hard for to be snatched away. No one would know he was the father of the baby, and you weren’t going to make him be something he didn’t want to be. You wouldn’t inform him of the gender, due date, name– anything, if he didn’t want to know, in which you knew he wouldn’t. 

You wanted to make this as easy as possible– slowly cutting off your military life, and going back home to make a new life for yourself and for your baby. Your mother was in agreement, telling you to come home and to get yourself back on your feet, that she’d be happy to watch over the baby while you worked. You would have your childhood room back and your mother’s cooking, and that was enough to put a smile on your face even for just a moment through the rough patch. She knew that having support was the most important thing for you. 

You gather the papers in your hands, tapping them on the counter to even them out. Taking a moment to think one last time if this was truly what you wanted, you let out a shaky breath, leaving your room and making your way to John’s office, your fingers grasping the papers tight enough to wrinkle them. 

You knock three times on Price’s door, waiting for him to call out an answer for you to enter, “come in,” you finally hear him say. 

He straightens in his desk chair, the air in the room becoming thick and tense. He looks to be stressed out, his hand soon covering his forehead as he attempts to relax. You sit in one of the two chairs across from his desk, sliding your filled out discharge paperwork over to him. Price’s vascular arm reaches over to grab the papers, keeping his eyes on you the whole time. At first, he thinks that these are adoption papers for the baby, in which he would sign the parts that said “father’s information”, but he soon realizes that’s not what he was given. 

“You’re leaving the military?” his eyes darted up to look at you. 

“I won’t make this difficult. You don’t need to know a thing if you don’t want to, you won’t need to be present, just sign those papers and we’re gone.” 

“The Task Force needs you,” Price’s voice falters, his usual soft tone you were so used to is back. 

“I want to raise this baby, John– our baby,” you feel yourself spiraling, your hormones making it difficult to keep your composure. 

You could see his eyes flutter closed, his body shaking as he releases a large huff from his lungs, “you’ll be discharged immediately. I don’t want to see a trace of you left in that room.”

“Yes, sir.”

You had very little to pack up in your room, your mother having come from London to help you carry anything heavy. Soap had stopped by your room after hearing the news that you were being discharged. His thoughts soared wildly as he watched your mother pack away your things as you carried out items to her car, thinking of how sick you must have been to have to leave the military immediately. You must have been in need of serious medical treatment to just drop everything and leave. His form standing outside your door caught your mother’s attention, making his entire body tense. Turning on his heel, he prayed to whatever or whomever that your mother hadn’t seen the stray tear fall down his cheek. 

Your civilian clothing felt a little tight around your lower abdominal area, your belly poking out slightly, bloating from the pregnancy hormones and constipation since the baby was still very tiny to make an appearance quite yet. You were half tempted to keep your jeans unbuttoned but with it being so hot out, your shirt was cropped right above your belly button. You had to keep cool somehow and you weren’t sacrificing your style for your growing belly. You and your belly bump can be stylish together. 

“Is this the last of it, darling?” Your mother questions, placing the last box in the trunk of her sedan. 

“Yes,” you answer, looking around one last time before opening the passenger door of the car and slipping inside. 

Your eyes caught a glance of Price, who was outside on the training field with a group of soldiers. He was looking right at you, and it sent a flood of different emotions to wash over you. Tears stung your eyes, your throat swelling as you tried your best to keep yourself from falling apart. You were prepared to do this whole parenthood thing alone, but you were hoping that you would at least have him present for the sake of the child– not even for the sake of you because you weren’t what mattered in this situation. 

You had fallen madly for him but your job had made it very apparent that feelings for your superior could be a whirlwind of repercussions to pay. You had to play it safe in the shadows. John would have been a liar if he said he hadn’t also felt the same feelings as you, but kept it no more than a hook-up every once in a while. This was the most difficult decision you could ever make– deciding to walk away. 

It had taken you weeks to acclimate to civilian life after being in the military for so long. You were freshly 18 and had just graduated secondary school when you joined the Royal Army, just entering your mid 20’s when you passed selection for the SAS, Price was the first to congratulate you, shaking your hand and offering you a warm smile, the creases in the corners of his eyes sending you into a tizzy– goodness he was so handsome. His face was shaved then however. You loved his chops when he started growing them out, your eyes catching his own as he carefully combed through the thick auburn beard hairs with a sandalwood comb in the middle of his debriefings. 

You sat at the dining room table of your childhood home, scanning over the words on your laptop screen. You had gotten a new job and you were going to start working remotely from the house, which was perfect because of the baby coming around February. You had since gotten into a new doctor’s office, your mother accompanying you for support. Her face lit up when she saw the baby floating around on the screen, their little arms covering the front of their face. You had cried more than you liked and your nausea had increased dramatically once leaving the base. You thought it may have been from the stress of leaving your old life behind intermingling with the pregnancy hormones. 

Your mother was a huge support, telling you that you could take time to yourself before you found a civilian job. You waved her off however, saying that she had no business having to pick up the slack for her adult child. She had already taken to knitting small items for the baby, and your favorite was the small floppy bunny beanie that was a light cream color, the inside of the ears a dusty pink. 

“Have any of your military friends contacted you since leaving?” Your mother asks, peeking up from the cream colored blanket she had started days previous. 

“Soap has, but he ended up being deployed before I could answer. He probably thinks I’m dying with having left so suddenly when I was experiencing morning sickness during debrief,” the sigh that left your lips was a sad one, as Soap was someone you had grown quite close to over the years of being in the same barracks and then being on the Task Force together for a short period of time. 

“Well hopefully you can remain friends,” the nimble fingers of your mother placed a stitch marker into the blanket. 

“One can hope,” you lie. 

You were entering your 20th week of pregnancy– halfway to the finish line is what your mother said to you that morning. Her excitement was easy to spot as today was the day you would find the gender of the baby out. Your belly had grown some, but not enough for it to be immediately recognized as a baby bump. Maybe you just ate an entire pizza? 

Drinking the last bit of orange juice, to which your mother swore would make the baby more lively in your belly during the ultrasound, you look over the texts in your phone, Soap’s name popping up suddenly. It catches you off guard when you open the text, seeing a picture of Ghost and Price out on the firing range, Price’s hat sitting on top of Ghost’s head as he lay prone on the ground with a sniper rifle. Price had his arms crossed and was seeming to refuse being in the photo, his hand covering his face. Soap hadn’t sent so much as a “hi” in weeks, and you had hoped that he just moved on from the thought of you staying in touch with your old roots. Closing out of the text app, you place your phone face down on the kitchen counter, your heart dropping. You just won’t reply, just like you had been doing before. 

Patiently waiting in the exam room at the midwife’s office, you placed a hand on your belly, hoping that soon you would finally be able to feel movement. Your midwife said it’s normal to not have movements until now or even a little later but you were so impatient. Once entering the room, the midwife went over her routine questions, and took your blood pressure. 

“Your blood pressure is a bit elevated, are you getting enough water and rest?” The midwife asks, placing herself on the stool next to the ultrasound machine. 

“Mum wouldn’t let me live it down if I weren’t,” you answer. 

“I believe it,” the midwife chuckles, looking over at your mother who had taken a seat next to you on the exam table, “I would like for you to continue what you’re doing, and if you’re feeling any strange symptoms like dizziness, faintness, seeing stars in your vision, or pains in your chest or ribs, go to the hospital immediately.”

You nod your head, and the midwife starts setting your ultrasound up, helping you lie back on the bed as soon as she’s done. Unbuttoning your jeans, she places a flannel over the top of your jeans to keep the gel from staining them. The lights are then turned off and you begin to relax and clear your mind, ready to see your baby after weeks of waiting. Squeezing a large amount of gel onto your abdomen, the midwife places the transducer of the ultrasound machine onto the mound of gel, rubbing it around to find where the baby is positioned. 

“Look at those little puckered lips,” the midwife smiles down at you.

“Oh darling, look at that sweet baby,” your mom was in tears, her emotions always outmatched yours. 

As the midwife continues looking at the baby through the monitor, she takes her time going through all of the anatomy of the baby, noting it on the keys of the machine. Your hand was being squeezed so hard by your mother, you thought that your circulation might be cut off after so long. The tiny fingers of the baby were by their mouth, their legs stretching out and scrunching back up. 

“What were your bets on the gender, mum?” the midwife asks your mother, the two smiling at each other. 

“That’s a little girl in there.”

“Mum is correct,” the midwife points her finger to the wiggling baby, a clear picture of the baby’s gender boldly displayed. 

You’re going to have a little girl, Captain. 

Squealing with delight with fresh tears coating her cheeks, your mother squeezed your arm and kissed your cheek, “I’m so proud of you. I’m a grandma to a baby girl.”

While there was downtime, Price often grabbed drinks with the Task Force, his usual military uniform shed and his dog tags resting on his bedside table. The black jumper he wore had gotten a little loose, his appetite scarcely there since you told him about your pregnancy. His anxiety made his mind wander more than he liked. How were you doing? Was your belly finally popping out? Did you start purchasing baby items? He would always ground himself after some time, his internal voice telling him that this was for the safety of himself, and the safety of you and the baby. His baby. But not his baby at the same time, he made that clear with you all those weeks ago. 

Clutching a rocks glass in his hands at the bar, Price took a quick swig of the amber liquid as Soap sat to his right, scrolling through his social media timeline. Ghost was at the pool table across the bar, talking with Gaz, who had just taken a shot at a cue ball. It had been raining for days straight, the cool air flowing into the bar with each time the door opened. Were you also experiencing this weather? Or had you gone countries away to escape staying in the same country as your former friend with benefits with whom you now had forever ties with? 

“You know, Y/N’s social media was deactivated and she never answers my texts. I wonder if she’s okay?” Soap mumbled, unable to put his mind at ease as to where you went or what happened to you. 

“She was honorably discharged from the special forces, she’s probably cutting ties with her old life as much as possible,” Price’s voice was grim, however Soap didn’t quite catch on. 

“That’s not like her though– she used to post everyday–!” Soap gestured his hand to his phone, his social media app still open. 

“I think it’s best to allow her to move on,” Price slammed the rest of his whiskey, placing the glass back down on the bar with a loud clunk, “she’s been shot, wounded, seen death, caused death, stayed in hospital for weeks altogether in her career– she deserves peace.”

“She was ill, Captain,” those baby blue eyes of Soap’s were now filled with worry. 

“You said it yourself: she was experiencing her time of the month.”

“You’ve turned cold recently Captain–.”

“Move on, Soap. That’s the best you can do, for her sake and yours.”

Soap’s emotions were crushed, his heart sinking to the very bottom of his belly. Price knew Soap always cared too much, and that’s what set him apart from many people who had grown a bit cold and cynical while in the SAS– like Ghost for example. It was time for everyone to move on, it had been many weeks since your departure, and the only one who seemed to hold on the most was Soap… at times. Price struggled too but he was a Captain, he needed to be a leader and offer guidance to his soldiers, even if it wasn’t what they wanted to hear, but needed to hear. 

Holding his glass up to signal the barkeep for another pour, Price sighs, watching Soap scroll some more on his social media timeline, hitting the search bar and typing in anything and everything he could think of just to find you. He then sees him type in your mother’s name, his body language picking up in relief when a profile popped up, he just hoped your mother’s timeline wasn’t completely private. 

“Shite,” Soap mutters, disbelief flooding his tone, “she’s fuckin’ pregnant?” 

The Captain’s heart might as well have stopped beating right then and there when he heard Soap. Looking over at Soap’s phone, Soap adjusted the phone to show Price the screen, a post from two weeks ago exclaiming that you had just found out about the gender, a picture of you attached with a pink cupcake in your hand. 

“It’s a girl,” Price stared at the photo of you for way too long, his eyes softening when he saw that pregnancy glow, your cheeks becoming more filled out, and the swell in your lower belly being caressed by your hand. 

“Lucky lad, the father is,” Soap locked his phone, placing it face down on the bar, soon cradling his head in his hands. Soap is now trembling, a relieved yet saddened sigh leaving his mouth. 

Yeah, a lucky lad he would have been in a different world. 

Lying in the bath, the bubbles that had been added to the water thick and covering most of your body, your hands rested on your belly, rubbing the soft and stretched skin gently. Twenty two weeks along and you still hadn’t felt movements, and it was starting to worry you. Most people felt movement already. Sinking lower into the warm bath water, you feel the tension in your shoulders release after having worked all day. Come to think of it, your desk was still in a disarray with papers and pens and you had no energy to clean it up at the moment. 

Stilling yourself in the water and staring ahead at the faucet, you notice your stomach twitch, thinking that at first it was just a reflex, until it happened a few more times. You place the tips of your fingers where the twitches were happening, flinching when you could feel little taps. 

“Is that you in there, trying for your mummy’s attention?” You whisper, and another tap could be felt. 

Tears escape your eyes, quickly rolling down your cheeks when you think about how John is missing out on these moments. He would never be able to feel his little girl’s first movements. You wanted to imagine him being right there after you called out his name, his large hand reaching down into the tub, brushing softly against your swollen belly. He would wait patiently, at first discouraged that he missed those little kicks. Until finally, those little taps started up again, his baby blue eyes lighting up as he felt the tiniest movements against his palm. 

Wiping your tears away with the butts of your palms, you let out a shaky breath, attempting to ground yourself as much as you can in this moment, knowing that tears and sadness were not going to help get yourself through this. But it did feel good to cleanse your soul with a few tears after they built up for so long. 

When John had gotten to his room back at the barracks after downing three glasses of whiskey, he could feel his body give out from under him as soon as he shut the door behind him. His back slides down the door, his bottom meeting the cold tile, hands cradling his face as he chewed his bottom lip raw, the dull sting of the open wound radiating on his mouth. Hot torrents of anxiety begin to course through his body, tears stinging his eyes as he feels like he might crawl out of his skin. Clawing at his jumper collar, he feels like he’s suffocating, his breaths uneven and raspy. 

He missed you– missed those nights where he crawled into bed with you, your limbs entwining in a warm and comforting embrace after a hard day of work. His hands would search for the feeling of your soft skin in the darkness, only to feel an empty coldness on the sheets where your body should have been. You weren’t even his and vice versa but his attachment to you was obviously present from the beginning. His eyes always sought you out in the room, always scanning the battlefields to make sure you were safe. He should have pulled out all those times, knowing damn well that no birth control was 100% effective, other than abstinence or sterilization. He had gotten too comfortable with you, too lost in the warmth, the comfort you brought him. The smiles and the joking, the playful smacks you would give him, the wrestling and tickling matches that very often turned into that hot and heavy sex that left you both breathless and in a heavy daze. 

John knew he needed to move on, and to allow you the opportunity to live a happy and safe life with the baby, away from the military, the SAS, and the Task Force, but he was stuck on the idea that things could have been so different. If his duties weren’t so important– ridding the world of everything ugly and scary, meaning that his daughter wouldn’t have to one day live in fear, he would do it a million times over. No matter how much it hurt– no, how much it killed him, or how difficult it was to go day after day not knowing who or what she might be when she finally came into the world. How he’d never be able to see you become the mother you talked about being one day, holding a brand new baby while coming down off of the adrenaline, sweat still clinging to your forehead and cheeks. How he wanted so badly to witness that ecstatic yet exhausted “I did it,” come from your mouth, your tired eyes peering up at him. Being your support system while you struggled to nurse, changing the baby’s first nappy, letting you rest while he gently rocked and soothed the fragile bundle, whispering how much he loved her already. 

“Fuck–!” Price shouted, throwing his car keys across the room. 

At 32 weeks, your baby shower took place, friends that had kept in contact with you over the years came, as well as family members that you hadn’t seen in some time. You were in a comfortable maxi dress as your belly had gotten too big and it felt like the skin on your belly was always itchy so the soft fabric of the dress played a part in keeping that feeling away. There was a mountain of gifts that sat around the recliner in the den and you were overwhelmed with how much people cared to spoil the baby this much. 

As you sit in the recliner unwrapping the gifts, you smile for the pictures your mom begged to take so she could show you off, holding up each and every item you received. Blankets, nappies, outfits, baby gear, necessities, and even postpartum kits sat in a corner neatly. You were crying, feeling so undeserving of the kindness, but as your family and friends saw you, they all offered their comfort in the form of words of affirmation and bone crushing hugs. That you were loved and supported in this particularly difficult and confusing time. Your friends and family would have loved John. 

Your mother brings in another gift out of nowhere, her arms barely able to wrap around it, let alone carrying it over to you. Confused, you make her drop it, your body lifting from the recliner to help her set it down, her hand waving you off to not help her with something so heavy in your condition. She gives you a look and shrugs, saying there was no name on the gift. Tearing the wrapping paper off, you see a beautiful bassinet pictured on the large box. No one had fessed up to getting the gift for you, so you sat confused for longer than you would have liked as everyone else mingled. 

It had taken days for Price to figure out what he wanted to do for your upcoming baby shower. Your mother had posted an event, not realizing it was a public post, and fortunately for John, he knew your address from your paperwork and files. He found the sweetest bassinet, a cream color with a lacey pink border. It had a little storage area at the bottom so that you could keep any baby items at arm’s reach. Once he had put his payment and your address in, he hit the confirm button. He just hoped it would arrive on time. 

Sitting back in his desk chair, he listened to the busy hallways in which soldiers congregated and conversed while on their down time. His mind wandered to the most recent pictures your mother had posted, and your belly had grown bigger and you smiled so large. He imagined lying in bed, shirt removed, sweatpants on, your warm body next to his in a night dress that had become too short on you with your bump, his hand caressing the bottom of your abdomen, whispering sweet words. You were pressing your lips to his own, lingering for a moment and breathing in each other’s breath. 

“God, I hope you’re doing alright,” Price’s voice came out in a near whisper. 

Work has become a distraction of sorts, the meeting on your screen with several of your coworkers becoming something like a white noise as your mind wanders, your pen hanging loosely between your fingers as you stare into the void. A plate of biscuits and a cup of tea had been placed on your desk almost an hour ago by your mother, but they hadn’t been so much as even touched. You had a pretty significant headache that had gnawed away at the back of your head for the past few days that not even a paracetamol here and there helped. Thinking that the hormones had everything to do with it, you brushed it off without a second thought. 

“Y/N, what do you think about this?” Your coworker asks, pulling you from your thoughts. 

“I think it’s a great idea,” you answer, nodding and smiling into your webcam. 

Catching the fully set up bassinet that had been put in the other corner of the room in your video feed, you smile, placing your hands on your now nearly full term belly– 36 weeks to be exact. Your coworkers dismissed the meeting after agreeing to start the new project that had been outlined for a few weeks now, the small details and start date finally figured out. 

You stand from your desk chair, a hand placed on the underside of your belly to keep your center of gravity balanced and to keep your pelvis from hurting from the weight of your belly. The dress you wore swayed as you waddled over to the corner of the room where all of the baby’s things had been set up. Grunting as your knees bend to the floor, you drag the hospital bag you had been slowly putting together over the past few days. There were folded onesies, and knitted cardigans that you still had yet to pack away, as well as a small bag of toiletries. John would have chewed you out for being so carefree on such important things such as the hospital bags. He would have had his bag packed for weeks and sitting at the front door. 

Wincing from a twinge of pain in your chest, you stop what you’re doing for a moment to wait for it to subside. It could have been a trapped gas bubble– pregnancy and all of its little quirks. When the pain doesn't subside, you attempt to get onto your feet, but cry out when the pain worsens. 

“Mum–!” You cry out, bracing your hand on the bassinet and clutching your chest. 

Hearing your mother stomp up the stairs quickly, she barges into the room, rushing to your side and helping you up, “what happened, sweetheart?” she questions, eyes wide. 

“I’m having really bad pains in my chest,” you begin to cry, hot tears pooling in your eyes, scared out of your mind for the baby. 

After little to no convincing, your mother packed you and the bags into the car. It felt like the longest drive to the hospital ever, the diaper bag sitting in your lap and your own hospital bag at your feet, the baby kicking the wind out of your lungs, so you thought that she was hopefully doing just fine with all of her movements. There was a fresh sheet of snow on the ground and icicles formed on the trees, the freezing January air nipping at your skin. 

A nurse brought your mother and yourself over to triage, hooking you up to a non-stress test, the nodes placed cozily around your stomach, and wrapping a blood pressure cuff around your upper arm that was inflating and squeezing the life out of you. You knew that 140/90 was not where a pregnant person’s blood pressure should be, and you were certain the nurse was going to have you pee in a cup to check for proteins. 

Sure enough, you had to pee in a cup, handing it over to the nurse when you were finished and it was a hard enough feat to reach under your belly. Thankfully though, the non-stress test wasn’t alarming, the baby’s heart rate staying in a normal range even with the issues you were facing. 

“I think it’s safe to induce you right now, I’m not liking the looks of your blood pressure and labs,” the midwife sits in a stool across from your bed. 

Everything started off manageable– the pains, you were able to breathe through. Your mother stood by your side the whole time, clutching your hand when you needed it. You sat cross-legged in a hospital gown, the bed placed at the highest position, and an IV placed in the crease of your elbow. It was five hours later when the pitocin had started causing the most excruciating pains you had ever felt, and you had been shot many times in the SAS. 

Crying out and grasping the handles of the bed, your breathing became ragged and your mouth dried out and you were so happy when your mother applied lip balm to your mouth to keep them from cracking. Each time your progress was checked, the pain worsened, the labor pains feeling like a searing hot knife was dragging across your lower abdomen. You wanted so badly for John to be here, sitting across from you on the bed, letting your arms wrap around his shoulders while you groaned through your pains, but it was your mother who stood in his place, her tender touches breaking you out of your swimming mind. 

Hours later, your water had broken on its own, and now you were in the home stretch and the anxiousness began to flow throughout your body, knowing that your little girl was to make an appearance by the beginning of the next day. 

John’s body was wired, sleep not taking him this evening, his hand resting on his bare stomach as he splayed out on his bed, the blanket barely covering his waist. He scrolled mindlessly for hours on his phone when he finally decided to browse your mother’s social media, hoping that she had updated with anything that had to do with you. He shot up from his pillow when he saw a photo of you sitting up in a hospital bed, and IV and wires hooked up all over your body. 

“Posted three hours ago,” he mutters to himself, tapping your photo and zooming in on your face– you looked so angelic. 

His baby would be here so soon and it made his heart skip beats, anxiety flowing through his veins. He could be there right now in place of your mother, whispering sweet words of encouragement in your ear, rocking with you and helping you breathe through the pain. Even when on the battlefield while injured, he knew you were terrible at controlling your breathing, often passing out and waking back up with him chewing your head off. 

“Make sure to breathe, sweet girl, you’ve got this,” he spoke almost silently– a whisper off his lips. 

Lying back down, he knew immediately that he was not going to sleep until he knew you had delivered safely and that the baby was okay. Knowing how much your mother posted updates about you, it was surefire that she’d post a picture of that sweet baby as soon as she arrived. What were you going to name her? Would you give her your surname? Of course you would, he doesn’t have that badge of honor– of his kid taking his name, when he wasn’t present. What would his daughter look like? Hopefully like you because you were the most beautiful creature on God’s green Earth. 

The smallest hand was wrapped around your finger, swaddled in the cream colored blanket your mother knitted just for her. The baby came out kicking and screaming after almost two hours of pushing. You cried out for John, wanting him by your side more than anything. To hold your hand, to kiss you so deeply when the baby came and was placed on your chest. Your mother knew how much you missed John, your forlorn looks never fooling her, and so she felt great sympathy hearing you scream out for your past lover. 

“Look at you, Bunny,” you whisper, stroking the soft cheek of your little girl ever-so-softly. 

“Oh, you did such a good job, my love,” a kiss was placed on your cheek by your mother, her hand resting on the back of the baby’s bunny hat covered head. 

You would go through the pain of carrying her and bringing her forth a million times over, your heart swelling so much it might have exploded when your eyes caught the looks of her face. She was so perfect, so tiny. The moment she was placed on your chest, her eyes peered right into yours– those same crystal blue eyes she shared with her father. 

It was late morning the next day. John hadn’t slept a wink, his eyes heavy and Soap was late to debriefing– like that was a new thing though. He decided to sit at the table instead of the podium at the front of the room where the projector screen hung behind it, too exhausted to stand for more than needed. Gaz was away on deployment, leaving Ghost and Soap to sit in the seats to the right and left of him. Ghost’s eyes peered at his newest deployment papers, flipping through the pages pretty quickly as he was a fast reader. Soap had his head down, phone hidden under the table while there was a moment of silence– a break of sorts, in John’s meeting. 

“She had the baby, bonnie lass she is,” Soap says out loud, Ghost looking up from his papers with a quiet hum.

John frantically dug his phone out of his pocket, searching your mother’s name on social media. There you were, holding the tiniest bundle in your arms, swaddled inside a knitted blanket with her hands tucked under her chin. He had to leave, he needed a moment. The chair screeches when he stands, Soap’s attention snapping to his Captain, who started rushing out the door. 

Sharing a confused look with Ghost, Soap stood from his seat and left the room. Why did he leave in such a hurry? Why did he react like that in general? Soap was searching his brain for the possible answer. Come to think of it, Soap never noticed a gentleman by your side during your pregnancy and your mother had mentioned in posts how you were so strong and she was lucky to be by your side during this new adventure. Was John that baby’s father? Why was he not there with you? But then it all began to make sense the longer Soap thought– the SAS and Task Force were always keeping themselves hot on the tails of dangerous people, and those dangerous people would stop at nothing to take everything away from them. Maybe this was a mutual decision– and exactly why you left the military. 

John’s breathing was heavy as he shut the door to his room behind him. He felt unstable on his feet, nearly tripping on his way to sit on his bed. Your photo was zoomed in on his phone, your hair was disheveled, your hospital gown hanging from your shoulders– he was guessing you’d already attempted to feed the baby with how lazily it had been tied back up. John’s eyes focus on the baby, his heart skipping a beat when he looks at her sweet button nose and wispy little hairs poking out from her knitted bunny hat. Oh how beautiful his girls looked after all of their hard work. Pride swells in his chest, he knew this must have been so difficult, but you did it and looked even more beautiful than before as a new mother. 

The nights were long, the days melted together, and you found yourself lost. Though your mother lent a hand when she was available, you had taken on so much so quickly and had no adjustment time, as having a baby would do. Between nursing the baby and running on less sleep than you had gotten on some of your deployments, you were ingesting more caffeine than you liked, and you often found yourself nodding off at random times. But that little girl had been the easiest to please so far. As long as she got milk, had a clean nappy, warm clothes, and cuddles, she was content. 

John would have been the one to wake up at the first signs of movement in the bassinet– he was an incredibly light sleeper and would often rise earlier than most of his team. He’d say how much of a waste it was to sleep the morning away when you could be productive and get more important things done before the day actually needed to start. You weren’t much of a morning person and would often tell John to let you sleep in until the last possible minute if you stayed in his room for the night, but you always managed to slip out of his room before anyone came into the halls. 

Your mind wandered more during your maternity leave, often you questioned what John was doing, if he knew his daughter had arrived safely and if he knew how beautiful she was. Did he have any deployments in the time you were discharged to now? You were sure he was busy, as he always had been. 

A few weeks passed and John was on leave for three weeks, visiting home and executing plans he made with Soap for the day, who was taking a leave around the same time as John for a wedding. While walking the streets of London, hands stuffed in his pockets, and Soap to his side, the two talked about quick bite options nearby. John had a cafe in mind, mentioning that they had great coffee and sandwiches.

The late winter air nipped John’s nose, the tip dusted a light pink. He had a black beanie placed atop his head and a black peacoat over his jumper. Soap’s outfit resembled the outfit John wore, save the beanie, but add a scarf. Soap had attempted to reach out to you on multiple occasions since having the baby, but of course, you didn’t answer. Soap knew that he shouldn’t keep trying to pry and answer out of you, but he also knew that you needed the support of a friend, even though he wanted to be more than a friend. 

Price felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket, telling Soap to go on ahead and order for them both– Price wasn’t picky. Opening the door to the cafe, Soap felt an immediate warmth wash over him and the heavy smell of coffee filling his nose. Taking a spot in the short line, he stared at the menu above, until he became distracted by the woman in front of him, kissing a very small baby on the head, cooing and rocking her body as her hands caressed the sling that held the baby to her chest. He knew your voice anywhere. 

“Y/N?” He places his large hand on your shoulder, spinning you to face him. 

Your eyes were wide, a scared look on your face until you noticed Soap’s familiar face. Barely able to string words together, Soap took you by the arm and dragged you to the side, his arms engulfing you in an embrace, careful as to not smoosh the baby’s head between your two chests. 

“Why didn’t you answer my messages?” Soap’s low voice vibrates the side of your face as your arms wrap around him. 

“I didn’t want my old life to follow me because of her,” your voice trembles.

“But you didn’t have to face this alone.”

“I do though,” you pull away, looking at Soap with watery eyes. 

Feeling his heart sink, knowing that what you said was true, he didn’t want it to be. He wanted to be the one to hold you– support you, and keep you safe. Even though what Price was doing was carrying out the same purpose. 

“She’s a beauty,” Soap nods to the sleeping baby covered almost entirely inside your sling, her little face settled against your chest, lips puckering as she stirs to get more comfortable. 

“Thank you Johnny,” you smile, stroking her cheek softly, then adjusting the knitted bunny hat to sit closer to her eyebrows. 

Johnny– he hadn’t heard you say his real name in so long, it was like a treat hearing it leave your soft lips. 

“Reach out to me from time to time, just so I know you’re doing okay?” Soap pleads, his hands resting on your shoulders, squeezing them lightly to get his words through to you. 

Nodding with a soft smile, you could hear your name being called by the barista. Grabbing your coffee, you turn to exit the cafe, offering Soap a soft “bye,” as you pass him. You wrap your thick shawl around the baby tight, holding onto her with one hand while you balance your coffee in the other. You were only minutes from your mother’s house, and the fresh air was something you needed after being cooped up in the house for so long. 

Then you see him– John. He was ending a call on his phone, placing it back in his coat pocket before setting off on his walk to the cafe to meet back up with Soap. Your heart was pounding, and almost as if the baby senses your unease, she begins to stir and whimper. You walk closer and closer to where John’s position is by a lamp post. His eyes spot you and his body freezes in place. You keep walking, shushing the baby softly, your hand placed on her back to let her know her mother was right here. 

“You’re alright, Little Bunny,” you say into her hat, softly kissing the crown of her head as you pass John. 

His daughter was right there, cozily pressed against your body in the chilly climate. The baby wore a cream knitted bunny ear hat, one ear flopping over the side of the sling. She looked so much like the both of you, it almost scared him. He wanted to hold her— hold you. It ate away at his insides, turning his guts to liquid as he watched your eyelashes flutter down to the ground, watching your feet. 

Tears were falling like mad down your face as you passed him without a word, John watching you in disbelief– he didn’t think he would be able to rest his eyes upon you again, not after going this long without contact. But it was for the best, you both knew this. 

His eyes followed you until you were no longer in sight, making sure you were absolutely safe with the baby. Life could be different, he could run after you and grovel on his knees for forgiveness. To beg you to forget he was ever cold to you and to start fresh. But he couldn’t, especially not after how things ended and with knowing he’d jeopardize yours and the baby’s safety.

It was days later that you had run into Soap and John while out in London. You hadn’t slept right in days and it was a mixture of having a newborn who needed your attention and the anxiousness of seeing your old lover and not being able to think about a thing other than him. 

Your mother’s footsteps can be heard ascending the stairs and she soon appears in the doorway with a small parcel. Handing it to you and planting herself on your bed next to you, she waits for you to open it. As you tear into the parcel, peeling the tape and opening the box, you look inside and see a knitted bunny, the yarn pink and soft. Pulling the bunny out, you notice a note attached to it, neatly folded and taped shut. As you carefully open the note, your eyes scan over the words written on it. You knew that handwriting— John’s handwriting. 

“For Little Bunny.”

#cod mwii #cod fanfic #cod imagine #call of duty mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty mwii #call of duty imagine #call of duty #captain john price #john price #john price x reader #john price x you

[jermer10]

i really liked your yandere sniper! could you do a oneshot? fluff or smut is fine and you don't have to do it :) -

TF2 yandere sniper smut oneshot

18+ only, afab reader | thank you so much for the ask anon!!!! i am NOT the best at yandere, but i put my heart n soul into this for u <3

tw: sexual content, somnophilia, stalking, yandere, noncon that turns consensual, hunt/prey dynamic, kidnapping

drabbles under the cut :P

He could stare at you for hours. Hours, and hours, and hours. You were pristine, soft, clean. You keep yourself looking good for him, he knows it. He sees the way you strip to nothing in your room, tits bouncing as you squeeze into your cute little pyjamas. You lived with your curtains wide open, something he had a love-hate relationship with. How many other men sat in the apartment across the street, staring at your figure through the scope of a gun? Probably not many, but the thought still enraged him. Mundy wanted you all to himself, he wanted to earn you, to indulge in the hunt. He didn't want you to gift yourself to him, not like you had to the other people in your life. He amount of people he killed for you, for less than cheap sex, for less than treating you shitty. For less than a dirty look.

Tonight was the night he was going to win you. He had begun to make himself known, lingering too long in your peripheral vision, becoming sloppy when exploring your apartment, leaving your window open, using your shower. He reveled in the way you begun to take precautions, and the way he had managed to avoid getting caught. You setup cameras, looked over your shoulder more often, made sure to check your locks multiple times. Tonight, it would all become worth something. He knew you were asleep, 2 years of monitoring you and he was certain of your sleeping patterns. The window slid with ease, you had likely forgotten to lock it, but to him this was a sign of surrender.

Mundy entered your room swiftly and quietly, making sure he had left the window opened slightly. If you did awake, he would need a quick exit strategy. He couldn't bring it to himself to kill you, so getting caught and running away whilst you were still in a groggy state was preferable. The smell of perfume hit him first. Then the feeling of the carpet beneath this shoes. Then the sight of you. Your face was scrunched in a sort of desperate, needy way. Eyes shut tight, hips grinding into the pillow between your legs. His cock stood at full attention, uncomfortably rubbing against the fabric of his pants. He wondered if you were dreaming about him? He wondered if the excitement of having a stalker ever turned you on? He crept behind you, sliding his pants down to his ankles, pulling his throbbing dick out from his boxer shorts.

He spat in his hand, and began to stroke the length. It was all too exciting for him, his breath came out short and hot, light sighs and moans extruded from his throat. This wasn't the first time he had masturbated over your sleeping form, but it was the first where he had the intention of fucking you. Precum dribbled from his dick into his hand, which he used as lube. He didn't typically enjoy edging himself, but the thought of finally being able to feel you wrap around him almost pushed him over. He had to regain his composure, cock twitching in dissatisfaction. "Lucky fuckin' pillow..." He mumbled annoyed, listening intently to your quiet moans. He was sure you were close, he had to act fast.

The creaking of the bed under his added weight should have been enough alone to wake you. He cringed at the sound, but your moans did not cease. Mundy almost ripped your shorts off of you in anticipation, the sight of your bare pussy up close could have made him cum then and there if not for his unwavering determination to fuck you. You were already slick with wetness, and Mundy was sick of waiting. He slid his length in, one hand on his cock and the other on your hip, slowly and deliberately. You stirred, mewling as he stretched you open. You felt so gummy, so tight around him. Mundy couldn't take it, this was his one chance and he wasn't going to waste it. He thrust into you sharply, you cried out. It was a wonder how you were still sleeping during this, he considered it a miracle.

Well, he knew you weren't going to be asleep for long. He thrust into you a second time, cock spasming at the sound of your throaty moans. Then again, and again, and again. He couldn't hold back, hands ravaging your body. He laid behind you, on his side, and as uncomfortable the position was, he didn't care. Mundy was pussy drunk, unrelenting and cruel. You shortly awoke, feeling his hands gripping onto your tits and the feeling of his dick rearranging your guts. You wanted to scream, to cry, to fight off the man behind you. You knew it was him, your stalker. But a part of you found the whole ordeal....exciting. More exciting than any mentally sound person should.

Mundy didn't notice you, and if he did, he didn't seem to care. He drove into you, the feeling was unbearably harsh, you were unbearably warm, you were in pain, and yet it all felt so good. Moans drawn from your already sore throat, your hands gripped the side of the bed and your eyes squeezed shut as you began to hit your orgasm. A low, reverberating moan from the stranger behind you and you were undone, walls spasming around his cock, a high pitched squeal emitting from you. Your breathing was heavy, exhausted. Mundy came shortly after, pulling out and spilling onto your back and bedsheets.

You were an even better fuck than he could have imagined, how could he bear to let anyone else experience you this way? To let anyone else have you? And so, a calculated decision was made. You awoke in a room you had never seen before, arms and legs bound to a beam in the middle of the cold, plain room. A stranger walked in, no, not a stranger, it was him.

#tf2 #ask #team fortress 2 #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 imagines #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #tf2 sniper #tf2 yandere #tf2 sniper yandere #yandere tf2 sniper x reader #tf2 sniper x reader #jermer10

[ceruleancattail]

Ah hi Ceru it has been ages!! So I saw that you want people to feed into your horror/yandere brainrot and luckily for only you, I am very fucked up in the head. So be prepared for whatever fucked up shit I’m about to write^^

C.W: stalking, kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome

Let’s go with the person you like best in twst, Cater Diamond. Now people don’t know a lot about Cater so we can do honestly a shit ton of things with him. So let’s talk about him in my horror au. Cater is honestly such a cool character and I love him oh so very much, so making him fucked up is so fucking easy. As we know Cater is chronically online, so imagine a celebrity Yuu. They don’t go to nrc but they went to the island once and Cater instantly fell head over heels.

Now, Cater in my AU is this obsessive guy, he stalks people, he knows everything about everyone, he gets what he wants and isn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty. So he starts digging into Yuu’s past, at first it’s small things that the public knows, but then he goes deeper and deeper and soon he knows everything about them. Their shoe size, what’s their sleep schedule, favorite food, where they live, the kind of soap and shampoo they use, their order at their favorite coffee shop.

But after he learns everything online he starts getting desperate. Tons of messages and dms, he finds their number and text and calls them. He find their friends numbers and texts and calls them. At first just simple “hi” “good morning!!” “How was your day?” “I loved the new post you posted<3” but soon it turns into him talking about things they did in their private life and even threatening their close friends and family so he can family talk to them. Of course Yuu tries everything they can to get a restraining order against him, but they can’t find anything to do with this guys.

One day Yuu is out alone doing a quick errand, when they run into Cater. They, of course, don’t know who he is but he mentions that they met before, like ages ago, and they talk a bit and Cater gets a picture, before Yuu leaves. Cater, being Cater, follows them home secretly, breaks in when they’re asleep, and kidnaps them:)

Yuu wakes up in an actually nice room, but it’s not their room, the door is locked, the window has bar metals and their an ankle monitor on them. After a while Cater walks in and starts acting like this sweet guy and after some freaking out on Yuu’s part he confesses that he’s the one who’s been stalking them, calling and texting them for months now but he only did that cause he loves them and wouldn’t want anything to happen to them ever, so he’s just looking out for them.

After that Yuu stays in that room for months, with only Cater as company. Every time they do anything that Cater disapproves of he gets upset and leaves them in that room for days, one time he left for a whole month. And to Yuu’s shock and horror, they actually missed Cater. You know what happens after that. Cater gaslights and manipulates Yuu, Yuu believes him and becomes dependent on him. Cater thinks they’re in love, but he’s just obsessed with the idea of them. Yuu thinks they love him, but they’ve been locked up for so long away from other people that they’re lying to themselves.

I wanted to fit cannibalism in here somewhere but I think that’s crossing the line so I didn’t 😭. Anyways I hope you likes me and my fucked up thoughts goodnight<3

Oh no, it’s fine! Cannibalism isn’t for everyone and I get it. I’ve written some in the past, so I’m alright with brainrot involving it, but thank you for drawing the line anyways!

Also you’re so real, Cater has the potential to be so super creepy, it’s a shame I don’t write him as yandere as often as I’ll like-

Also it has been so long- Hi!!! How are you???🫶

————————————————————————

Tw: yandere

It’s just so suffocating being with Cater, you know? He’s just so concerned about his image, how he presents himself to you. Every word as artificial as the last, dripping with honeyed words and sugared lies.

The sweetness was cute at first, but now?

It’s just down right nauseating.

Cater strives so damn hard just to please. Lurking in Internet forums, scanning threads you’ve liked (in the account you thought you made private) and combing interviews you don’t even remember doing. Just for little tidbits of information you’ve dropped about you.

Your favourite food. Your favourite book. Your favourite place to hang out. Favourite this, favourite that.

You’ve seen the list on his phone, a great winding chunk of text stretching from pages on the end. You’ve seen essays with less material. Normally, you would have pegged it down was just another… oddly invested fan, if nothing came out of it.

You got the desire to get to know your idols more. It was just a natural human curiosity, wasn’t it? Even though Cater’s level was… remarkably obsessive.

It’s one thing to worship your idols.

It’s another to kidnap them and force a confession down their throat. Hell, it’s been a month, and you’re still not used to the shackles around your wrists. You still wince at the way your constraints drag across the ground, metal scratching against tiled floors.

Yet the greatest restraint was the man himself. Whenever he saw fit to drop by, Cater can’t just seem to let you go. Crushing you in bone-crushing embraces, cooing about his day, how his lunch tasted… and just how much he missed you!

You used to accompany him during lunch hours through your live streams, and the little clips that circulate through his social media! Not going to lie, he hardly listens to those anymore.

Why would he?

When he has the real thing all tied up prettily just for him at home?

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #yandere #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst x reader #cater diamond #cater diamond x reader #cater x reader #cater #yandere cater diamond #yandere cater diamond x reader #yandere cater x reader #yandere cater #thank you for the Brainrot!!! it was delicious #you popped off so hard I swear #eating your work wjansjjww #Yan cater Yan cater #I HATE HIM SOOOOO UGHHH

[oleander-nin]

A/N, not important: I hope y'all like this because I sure don't! Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

Tw: stress

Words: 1156

Prompt(s) requested: 11(Calming down) & 20("I'm glad you're the one I fell in love with. I'd be lost without you.")

Summary: Donnie's stressed so you try to help him out

Bad thing after bad thing happened today. I grumble curses under my breath as we head home, scratching at the new wounds I gained during the fight. Stupid Hypno and his stupid magic rings. I hold my staff closer to my chest, my hands wringing the wood as I walk. Leo was loud as always, his words ringing through the air and piercing my ears. I glare at him when he tries to put his hand on my shoulder, pulling back. I just wanted to go home. I had so many projects I needed to finish. SHELLDON needed his next upgrade, my jetpack battle shell was busted from a previous fight, and Raph had broken yet another phone. My face pulls into a grimace. I had so many things to do.

I slide down the ladder into the sewers, walking the familiar path back to the lair. I keep my eyes forward, ignoring my brothers and their loud antics. My shoulders hunch, my hands still clenched tightly to my staff. The world felt too small, every little sound shooting into my head like little bullets. I grit my teeth and speed up a bit, trying to get to my lab. I needed to be in my lab.

I ignore my brother's cries for me to wait up, speed walking into the lair and to my lab. I  crash into my chair, letting myself sit for a moment. Stupid battle interrupting everything. I exhale slowly as I turn to my computer. I let the monitor start up, my body jittering. My leg bounces at a constant rhythm, a metronome to the song of my silence. I grip the mouse tightly, moving the small icon back and forth across my screen as everything starts up. 

It was too slow, everything was too slow. I needed to be done already, I had so much to do. I open up my code files, scanning through them. The usually soothing process of coding was putting me more on edge, my skin crawling as I type.

I slam my fist down on the desk as another error code pops up, my teeth grinding together. I slump back in my chair, rubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes. I couldn’t tell why nothing was working. By all accounts, it should be. The lines were precise and each segment was correct. But the code still refused to run.

I sat there for a while, staring up at the ceiling. I grit my teeth, my hands gripping the arm of my chair tightly. Nothing was working today. Was it my fault?

My eyes glide to the door as it hisses open. I watch (Y/n) walk in, their face pulled tight in concern. Of course it was. Mikey probably sent them.

I turn back to my computer, hunching over the keyboard as I grumble under my breath. I didn’t need anyone to ‘check up’ on me. I was fine. The world was just too loud right now. I continue to watch them out of the corner of my eye. They walk past me and into my room, messing with something on my bed. I turn my head, watching them openly now. What were they doing? They didn’t even say anything. My eyes continue to be trained on them as they come back out, one of my weighted blankets hanging over their shoulder. Oh. 

They cross the room and hold the comfort item out to me, my eyes flicking between them and the blanket. I sigh, my shoulders falling. I take the blanket and swing it over my shoulders, sinking into the comforting weight of the fabric. (Y/n) hooks the chair they usually use with their ankle, dragging it over before falling into it. They lean back, spinning slightly as their toes push the chair back and forth. Their eyes shift to meet mine and I hold their gaze for a moment. The air in the lab was still, neither of us speaking. My body is still tense and I curl up in my chair. I spin my chair around so I'm no longer facing the code I was working on. If I saw another error code, I was certain I’d break something.

“You’re upset.” They remark, unhelpfully. I look at them, unimpressed.

“Impeccable deduction skills, Sherlock.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

They hum softly, their arms stretching above their head as they pop their back. I watch them for a moment, shifting in my chair. We both continue to sit in silence, my frustration growing. It wasn’t fair. 

“I just don’t understand!” My voice surprises both of us. I don’t meet their eyes, gesturing wildly at the computer. “Nothing I do is working! It’s not fair! I’m a genius, so why can’t I figure this out!”

“Probably because you’re tired.” Their voice is soft, encasing my buzzing head in a blanket of words. It was a much nicer sound than the rumbling air vents throughout the lair. I shake my head. No, no. I wasn’t tired, I couldn’t be tired. There was so much to do. I needed to get it all done.

“I’ll sleep later, I just… Can you go make me some more coffee? I need to get this done.” My voice was more pleading than I wanted it to be. I scowl at myself, I wasn't supposed to let things like this show. Everything was falling around me and I couldn’t stop it.

“Coffee isn’t going to help, Don.” I shrug, turning back to my computer. I dismiss the error codes, looking back over the lines of code. I would be fine if I could just figure this out. I send a command to SHELLDON for my coffee instead.

I vaguely notice their head looking at my code, my body shifting slightly so they can see it better. The tightness in my chest was still there, but their presence was helping slightly. I start scrolling through my code again, looking for what caused the error.

“Are you using Python?” I glance at them before nodding. This specific project needed this language to achieve what was required the easiest. “Line one oh eight has ‘def’ capitalized.”

I blank for a moment, my mouse moving to the line. They were right. I fix the mistake before continuing to scroll through the code, slower this time. We both look through the code for more bugs together. (Y/n) points out some more flaws and I fix them. We reach the bottom of the code and my body tenses. I run the command, watching the screen load for a moment. I hold my breath. No errors pop up. It worked.

A huge sigh of relief leaves me as I push myself away from my desk, my head hanging down. I look at (Y/n), smiling. "I'm glad you're the one I fell in love with. I'd be lost without you."

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt donnie #donatello #donatello hamato #tmnt donatello #rise donnie #donnie rottmnt #donnie #donnie x reader #tmnt x reader #rottmnt x reader #donnie tmnt #rottmnt donnie x reader #donatello x reader

[immortaladrien]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write about a villain visiting a comatose hero? It could be hurt/comfort or just pure angst if you want

i dig this concept! i hope you like the direction i went with it, massive thanks to @soggiestofsocks for inspo.

TW: graphic descriptions of injury, combat, medical terminology, HEAVY angst

It was never supposed to go this far. Villain repeated the mantra in frantic whispers over and over, replaying the night in their head.

I should’ve noticed the missed beat in Hero’s attacks. The stagger in their steps. Some sign, any sign to stop attacking before something like this happened.

It’d been eight hours, twenty-seven minutes and forty seconds since the collapse. The hospital waiting room was distinctly unpleasant, the lights far too bright; Villain had only really noticed that on hour seven or so. A child coughed next to them. They withdrew further into themselves, tapping their foot impatiently.

And another thing; someone should’ve noticed by now. All I needed was a cheap pair of sunglasses and a gruff ‘we’re family’ to bypass security. How many times have the two of us made live television, face in full view? How has no one said a word?

A doctor approached down the hallway with a strained expression. Immediately, Villain was up from their seat.

“Are you-”

“Are they alive?”

The doctor startled, clearing his throat and regaining composure. “At the moment. We’ve done everything we can, but they’re not over the hill yet.”

Villain’s chest tightened, guilt pooling in their stomach. “It was… that bad?”

A heavy sigh, weighted with sympathy. “There was massive internal bleeding. To be frank, it’s a wonder their organs functioned long as they did; with the injures they sustained, it should’ve led to collapse hours before the second fight.”

There was a moments pause as the Villain seemed to buffer, processing.

“Second fight?” They managed to withdraw their eyes from the floor, and the Doctor simply nodded, flipping through the files on their clipboard.

“Incident reports from civilians indicate only a single hit happened in this battle, and it was to the face. The black eye corroborates that. It doesn’t explain the shattered ankle or multiple broken ribs, much less the gaping wound on their back. The bleeding has also progressed far too quickly to have occurred just before medics arrived.”

Villain staggered a bit on their feet as emotions hit them like a train. Relief, coupled by grief and an overwhelming, all-consuming rage.

Who. Fucking. Dared.

Fuming, they clenched their fists to hold back the fury that threatened to unleash itself on innocent people. Before they could storm out of the hospital to crush every would-be-threat in the damn city themselves, the doctor once again snapped them from their thoughts.

“They’re comatose right now, but if you’d like to see them, now might be a good time to…” The words trailed off, but the meaning remained. This might be goodbye.

“Take me to them.”

—

Hero looked like hell.

Villain stood at their bedside for a solid minute assessing the damage. Bandages wrapped around their stomach were stained crimson, their breathing labored at best.

“Hey, hero.”

They took a chair conveniently placed just to the side of their unconscious adversary. Words felt hollow. The room almost echoed, despite its size.

“I’m sorry.”

They didn’t shift. Villain fidgeted with their hands.

“I should’ve recognized… sooner. I saw you limping, and I didn’t… I’m sorry.” A shaky exhale.“Whoever fucking did this to you, I’m going to kill them.” Their voice lowered, as if testing. “You hear me? I’ll kill them. You hate it when I kill people, so you better wake up and tell me not to.” Nothing. “Wake up, Hero.” A pleading, whispered request. “Please.”

The beeping of the heartrate monitor steadily reverberated through the air as no other noise remained.

Villain stood, closing the distance between themselves and their counterpart. With a shaking hand, they reached forward and trailed their fingers over the Hero’s face in a featherlight motion, as if dedicating it to memory.

An uncomfortable lump formed in the Villains’ throat.

“I don’t know how to live without you.”

The whispered confession hangs in the air before it’s gone.

The heart-rate monitor almost drowns out silent sobs from Hero’s bedside. Almost.

part two up now!

#if i did a part 2 it would have a happy ending #villian x hero #hurt/comfort #hero x villain #angst #heroxvillian #writing requests #i had so much fun with this #enemies to lovers #enemies AND lovers

[rreskk]

please please please write ab face sitting with trevor i feel like you’d write it so well

Check, all done and dusted! I hope you enjoy. If you're waiting for an answer to any requests, I'm getting through them! Sorry for the wait, I'm working from old to new : )

Summary: What is a personal seat warmer called? Trevor Philips.

TW: -Smut

Word count: 827

Pairings: Fem!reader/Trevor Philips

“O-Oh fuck, Trevor,” You whimpered when you crouched down further, fully squatting over his competitive lips. Them foul hands riddled with tattoos and wounds tugged on your ankles as he began kissing the outer warmth of your sex, ensuring every inch was visibly marked and monitored by him.

Your legs grew unsteady at his informal and improper proposal of his tongue, holding onto the wall behind you and threatening to collapse onto his face. You didn’t want to suffocate him with your cunt but the way he was licking you and caressing your ankles was asking for it.

“Trevor, shit – Mhm, right there…”

For a second, you felt his departure. He inhaled sharply, access and sourcing air, before driving back into your pussy with the determination to leave after you’ve came all over him. His tongue slithered inside and began teasing; while all the time licking you, his smirk wide and kissing your forbidden lips. The passionate gurgle from his throat as he deepened his tongue made you shudder and tug on his thin hair, possibly balding him even more.

Trevor was muffled, thanks to your inner thighs that clenched around his head, but you could still hear him loud and clear.

“Urgh, oh yeah,” He’d whisper in response to your physical restraint, “That’s right, try and stop me. You won’t. I’ll fuckin’ – Yeah… I’ll suck you dry and hard.” Then he cackled, his eery breath penetrating you like a wave of warm butterflies dominating your lower stomach and pussy.

You whined. He had you sat on his face, your pussy being assaulted and punched by his serpent like tongue. He left a trail of saliva around your sex before making love to your succulent cunt that throbbed under his invasion and control. Your sex was being stroked relentlessly that you couldn’t rely on the wall behind you anymore. Trevor was sucked in deeper as you were lowering your knees. His nose was bitterly stuffed in the crook of your cunt, the pubes leaving behind stubble burns around his mouth and cheeks. You felt him breathe in and out effectively and harshly. He was basically breathing in your pussy.

“Shit, shit. Baby, fuck… Mhm, right there.”

He growled at your praises and increased his pace. As you continued tugging his hair, you caught glimpse of how profound his jaw was. The mobility of his tongue and lips had made his veins pop within his forehead and neck; such a sexy sight to behold. Trevor’s hands grabbed your ankles and carves tighter for support as he was beginning to sloppily suck you in. The low and ruffled grumbles would turn into whiney moans and whimpers. He had fully self-invested himself in your cunt, and he was licking up every piece of you for himself.

“OH! – “ Panting, you clenched the thin locks and pushed him deeper between your legs. You didn’t care if he was being strangled or held hostage without air supplies, you were on the urge of a big climax that you barely stood. Trevor was being personally used as your seat; finally being relied on for your stability.

The submissive bubble of joy in him grew and he unironically enjoyed being your chair. It made him feel like a slave to your cunt that pulsed for his slimy tongue.

“Shit, shit, shit… I’m gonna cum.”

Your irregular breathing caught disturbed and you threw your head back against the wall, mouth open and crying out his name while he tongue-fucked you into squirting all over his thirsty and vile lips.

“TREVOR, FUCK!”

He giggled and began licking the storm of your orgasm. His nose was scrunched and nuzzled in your hair as he’d kiss, suck, bite. Your nails had left a long, red trail on his scalp due to the ecstatic motion of your cum caking him. Though your moaning was replaced by gasps and tainted sniffles, Trevor was obnoxiously slurping and gurgling up your discharge and fluid. The slapping echoes of his tongue against your wet pussy; it was definitely messy down there.

“Oh my God… Baby…” You’d whisper and fall forward, collapsing right beside his legs and feet. His tongue detached from your clit and he wiped up the aftermath around his mouth before seeing your back arched and ass grinded against his shirt. The view was impeccable and he quickly slapped your left cheek, making you grunt and turn over so you were both face to face.

“I liked that position,” Trevor smirked, “I was gonna suck your ass dry next.”

“God, fuck… You’ve got an evil tongue.”

“Tut, tut… Don’t be dramatic, sugar. My tongue is God, and you know it.”

Defeated, you just nuzzled into his white shirt – “Maybe.”

“Nuh uh, not maybe… Yes, yes; My tongue is God, say it.” His tone becoming demanding and his criminal fingers tickling your hips.

“Your tongue is my God,” You murmured with a shallow grin.

“Ain’t that the truth, baby. Now get back onto your elbows, I’m going to suck your ass rough.”

#trevor philips #grand theft auto 5 #gta v #grand theft 5 #grand theft auto #gta 5 #trevor gta #trevor philips x reader #trevor philips/reader #trevor philips headcanons #trevor philips fanfiction #trevor philips/you #trevorphilips #grand theft auto v #grandtheftauto #my fanfiction #my fanfic writing #requests #asks #fanfiction #gta v fanfiction #gta v trevor

[alisbackalleybbq]

Puppy Love Chapter 6

TW:   Mentions of hospitals, injuries, 

A/N:  If you want to be added to my tag list, please just let me know.

@northern-neighbor​

Charlotte struggled to surface from the nightmare she was in.  Her head felt heavy and her side hurt horribly.

“T-m,” she whispered, trying to call out to the last face she remembered seeing; the same face that made her feel safe.  She needed him.

“I’m here,” a voice replied but it wasn’t the voice she wanted to hear.

“T-m,” she tried again.

“It’s okay, Charlie.  You’re in the hospital.”  The voice said again.  Her eyes fluttered open, feeling heavier than she could ever remember them feeling.  She struggled to focus.  “There you are,” Tommy smiled at her.

“Tim,” She croaked a little louder, her throat extremely dry.  “I need…” 

“You need to rest,” Tommy replied.  “Nathan is getting you some water.”

“No,” Charlotte struggled to sit up, pain shooting through her side.  “Tim!”  She tried to yell.

“Hey, you are in the hospital.”  Tommy tried laying her back against her pillows.  “You need to rest.”

Charlotte fought against him.  “I need Tim.”  She didn’t have much energy left but she needed to talk to Tim.

“What’s going on?”  Nathan asked as he came back into the room.

“She’s fine,” Tommy replied.

“Tim,” Charlotte said again, her eyes locking on her brother.  She tried sitting up again but didn’t make it very far.

“Okay, Short Stuff, just settle down.  I’ll go get him.”  Nathan put the cup of water with a straw down on the table in front of his sister.

Charlotte dozed off but quickly opened her eyes when she heard her brother and Tim’s hushed voices as they came into her room.  “Tim,”  she reached out her hand.

“I’m here.  Your brother told me you’re being a little feisty.  You need to settle down for me, okay?” Tim took her hand and smoothed some hair off her forehead.

“What…” Charlotte looked around and squeezed his hand.

“You were stabbed.”  Tim said softly.  “You got lucky.  You lost a lot of blood but the knife missed your lung.  Do you remember anything?”

“The fire.”  Charlotte struggled to remember.  “Jonah got mad.”

“What else?”  Tim prodded gently.  “Take your time.”

“A voice,” her eyes started pooling with tears.  

“Do you know whose voice?”  Nathan asked before Tim could.

Charlotte nodded then scowled.  “He said ‘Bradford’s next.’”

“Was it Jeff?”  Tim had to temper his voice to hide the anger that was brewing inside him.

Charlotte shook her head.  “I know the voice.  I’ve heard it before.  But it wasn’t Jeff.”

“Okay,”  Tim kissed the back of her hand.  “Just rest, okay?  You have to stay for observation but you’ll get to go home in a day or two.”

“Home,” Charlotte snorted and rolled her eyes.  “Where is that?”

“With me,” Nathan answered.

“What about you?” Charlotte asked Tim.  “Whoever this was is gunning for you now.”

Tim smiled at her.  “I can take care of myself.  I’m not worried and you shouldn’t be either.  Now, please get some rest.”

“Stay with me?”  She asked him.

“I’m not going anywhere.”  He sat in the chair next to her bed, her hand still wrapped in his.

“Did she give you anything?”  Nyla asked when Tim emerged from Charlotte’s room an hour later.

Tim shook his head.  “All she could tell me was she heard a voice that she knew.”

“What did it say?”  Lucy asked.

“Bradford’s next,” Tim ran a hand through his hair.

“Great,” Angela huffed, “now you’re on this psycho’s radar.”

“I don’t know why,” Tim replied, “it’s not like I’m dating her.”

“But you want to be,” Angela quipped.  Tim glared at her.  “What?  I’m a detective.  I’m detecting.”  She smirked.

“Detect who hurt her,” Tim snarled.

“Calm down, Grumpy Bear,” Angela laughed.  “What else did she say?”

“Just that it was a male voice that she’s heard before.  I know this was Jeff.”  Tim answered.

“Jeff was at home at the time of the attack,” Nyla sighed.  “He’s on pretrial ankle monitoring.  The probation officer said he was home all night.”

“He could have slipped it,” Tim put his hands on his hips.

“It was also confirmed by the security cameras throughout his mom’s house.”  Nyla shook her head, “he was home all night.”

“Then he hired somebody.” Tim glowered.

“Hopefully Charlotte will remember more soon,” Lucy put her hand on Tim’s arm.  “If we find out it was Jeff, it’s just one more charge we can add.”

“When.”  Tim huffed.  “When we find out it was him.”  

Lucy just nodded in response

“He what?” Tim demanded.  It was three days later, he was with Charlotte at the meeting with Jake Eddison to discuss the case against Jeff.

“He’s refusing to sign a waiver of speedy trial,” Jake repeated.

“What does this mean?”  Charlotte asked.

“It means he won’t allow us to ask for the trial to be moved out further to allow you to recover.  Trial is set to start  in three weeks.  We will have to be ready to go.”  Jake looked at Charlotte sympathetically.  “My hands are tied.”

“There’s no way she’ll be ready to go in three weeks!” Tim practically shouted.

“Yes, I will,” Charlotte nodded her head.  “I’ll be ready.”

“Charlotte, you’re still recovering from a major injury,” Jake pointed out.  “From what Tim said, the doctor doesn’t think you’ll be able to sit comfortably for that long.  You can’t be on pain meds when you testify.”

“I’ll take Ibuprofen and I’ll sit there to face him no matter how painful it gets.”  Charlotte responded.  “He’s not going to break me.  He did this so that I wouldn’t be able to testify.  He did this so he could get away with it.”

“It might be time to talk about an offer,” Jake said quietly.

“What kind of offer?”  Tim was skeptical.  He didn’t want Jeff getting a sweetheart deal.

“I’ve discussed options with other attorneys in the office.  He’d plead guilty to attempted strangulation.  I’d drop the domestic battery and criminal threats charges.  Sentencing would be in the judge’s discretion.”

“What punishment would he be facing?”  Charlotte asked, worrying her thumbnail between her teeth.

“The maximum sentence is fifteen years but with his criminal history, he would never get that much time.  I’ll argue for five years fixed, 3 years indeterminate.  That means he would do five years in prison before he’d be eligible for parole.  I assume his attorney will argue for probation…if they even agree to the deal.”  Jake explained.

“No way,” Tim immediately spat.  “He can’t get probation.”

“That’s only if we make an offer and he accepts it.”  Jake replied.   “I won’t do anything Charlotte’s not comfortable with.”

“Thank you, Mr. Eddison,” Charlotte said.  “I trust you.  If you want to offer a deal, I’m okay with it.”

“I’ll let you know,” Jake said.  “I have some things to look at and think about before I do anything.  Tim, I need to talk to you privately.”

Charlotte simply nodded before leaving the prosecutor’s office.

“What’s up?”  Tim asked Jake.

“I see the way you look at her.”  Jake replied.

“At Charlotte?”

“Don’t play dumb, Tim.  It doesn’t suit you.”  Jake responded.

“There’s nothing there.”  Tim lied.

“Good,” Jake nodded, “keep it that way.  If it gets out that she’s sleeping with one of the lead officers in her case, the defense will use that against her.  They’ll use it to show that she’s emotionally unstable, that she jumps from guy to guy.  They’ll say she was just after Jeff’s money and now that they’re no longer together, she’s doing this to get back at him.”

“What about the pictures of her injuries?  They can’t tell her who she can date.” 

“The pictures do help but we don’t know how they are going to try to spin those either.  Tim, if you really care for her, wait until after trial.  Don’t give them anything to use against her.”

Tim stopped in front of his car and grabbed both of Charlotte’s hands.  “Are you really sure you want him to get a deal?  If he’s convicted of these charges, there’s guaranteed prison time.”

Charlotte bit her bottom lip.  “I don’t know.  I just want him to stay away from me.  I want to get back to my life.”

“I know,” Tim cupped the side of her face.  “I will do everything I can to keep you safe.  I won’t let him get to you.”

“I appreciate that,” Charlotte smiled, “but you can’t be everywhere, Tim.”  She looked at him sadly.

“I know I can’t.  But my friends can.”  Tim smiled at her.  “And I’ve got a lot of friends.”

“That you do,” Charlotte giggled.  

Tim stared into Charlotte’s eyes.  Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to kiss her.  It took every ounce of willpower in him to drop her hands and step back.  “It’ll be okay, Charlotte.  I promise.”  When she didn’t respond Tim put his hand on her arm against his better judgment.  “What will it take for you to believe me?”

“I want to believe you, Tim,” she said earnestly.  “But he’s not going to let this go.”

“One way or another, he will.”  Tim said as he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly.  “You should get back to Nathan’s.  He’s going to start blowing up my phone if you aren’t back there soon.”

Charlotte nodded and gave him a small wave goodbye.

“Did you get that?”  Jeff asked the man sitting next to him.

“Sure did.”  The guy smirked.  “Poor copper is so smitten he’s making promises he can’t keep.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me if they’re fucking already.”  Jeff ground out.

“Prosecutor didn’t seem to think they were,” the guy shrugged.

“The prosecutor is an idiot.”  Jeff spat.  

“We’d know if they were,” the guy replied calmly.  “We haven’t heard anything that says they are and their texts are flirty but nothing sexual there.”

“Yet,” Jeff responded.  “I’m just glad that stupid bitch left her phone unattended in the hospital so we could get that monitoring app on her phone.  Her phone calls, pictures, texts, emails; none of it is safe.  We can access it all.”

#tim bradford #tim bradford imagine

[lilveeblog]

Promise

TW: torture, beatings, kidnapping

jj is taken during a mission

<2K words

“JJ,” Reid mumbled from behind the trees. From her spot under the window, she looked over at him and saw him motioning for her to go further down. She shook her head, she didn’t want to go further. “This is our only chance, we don’t have time to wait for the rest of the team!” Reid scolded and JJ rolled her eyes. She knew he was right - they needed to catch this unsub today. Now, even. JJ began creeping up the wall, heading closer to the garage door.

Then it all happened so fast. To Reid, one second JJ was there then she wasn’t. There was no noise, no footsteps, not even a flash of light - she completely disappeared. Like a ghost.

Then the SUVs started to arrive and the other FBI agents poured out of the cars, guns at the ready and torches flashing along the scene. Derek saw Reid’s confused face, surveying the area JJ was just in and called him over.

“What’s wrong Reid?” he asked. “Where’s the unsub?”

“JJ-” he muttered, looking around for her.

“JJ? What about JJ?” Derek asked then Emily came over.

“Where is she?” She asked, panic clear in her voice. “Reid!”

“I- I don’t know. She just disappeared,” he mumbled, growing more and more confused.

“Disappeared?” Morgan questioned.

“She was here and then she wasn’t -”

“She’s gone?” Emily asked. REid only nodded and Emily’s heart dropped. JJ couldn't be gone. Not her JJ - her girl.

“JJ!” Morgan screamed, heading off into the woods, with his torch. The rest of the team heard the commotion and Emily informed them that their sweet girl was gone.

The team searched and searched the grounds. They found the unsubs lair, his computers, his tools - but not him nor JJ. Emily was stressed, Derek still hadn’t calmed down and Reid was silent - blaming himself. Rossi was trying to keep everyone else calm. Tara was still hunting for her.

—

“Guys…” Garcia cried - heading into the round table room. The team were all there after the five long hours with stressful situations they were still worried sick about JJ, unable to go home and rest knowing their sweet girl was there being hurt, possibly dead.

“Guys,” Garcia repeated and dropped her laptop screen to the monitor - projecting a picture no one in there wanted to see. Tara gasped, her hand coming to her mouth. Derek pushed his chair out and stood up, anger rising for the unsub. Rossi lowered his head, unable to watch and Emily stood there - watching her little girl be hit over and over and over.

JJ cried out on the video. She screeched and whimpered in pain each time the stick hit her. Then she cried out the one word Emily prayed to not hear- not now, not in this situation. She cried for her mama.

Emily sat in a chair, unable to hold herself up with shock and pain.

“Garcia, where is this coming from?”

“I can’t trace it,” Garcia spoke. “I’m trying but-” she tapped away on her computer, making sure she couldn’t see the screen where her best friend and best little mate was being hurt. “He is streaming from an anonymous source on a highly blocked website on the dark web. I was sent the link anonymously from a random email which is also untraceable. I cant-”

“Mama! Please, Mama!” JJ’s scream came through the monitor and the entire team turned to look at the screen. Everyone was in shock.

JJ was sitting in a dark room, strapped to a chair. Her ankles and wrists were tied and she sobbed as the unsub circled her. She was confused, small and very, very scared.

“Plea,” she whimpered.

“Speak properly you stupid baby!” He screamed, hitting her again with the stick and JJ cried out in pain. So far it was only the stick hitting her but the team knew it would get worse - knowing what they found in his garage earlier that day.

“I no done bad,” JJ cried again, trying to reason with the unsub. But she couldn’t. Poor little JJ had no idea what was happening. She regressed as soon as she fell into the hole. When she woke up from the hit on her head, she was strapped to the chair and even smaller. She didn’t know what was happening and she didn’t know why her mama wasn’t helping her. She didn’t know where her mama was but her mama promised she’d always, always be safe. She didn’t feel safe.

“Fuck!” Emily screamed, hitting the desk and walking out of the room. She couldn’t stand seeing her little girl like that - she didn’t want to see it. But she had to, she had to try and figure out where she was. She felt sick. She wanted nothing more than to wrap JJ in her arms, hold her, kiss her, and love her. She shook with anger and fear as she stood in the corridor. She couldn’t lose her girl. JJ was her entire world. No matter what headspace she was in, Emily loved that girl with every single cell in her body. No matter how much JJ wound Emily up the wall, no matter how much she pushed her away - Emily couldn’t live without her.

—

“I nee toilet,” JJ whimpered as the unsub came back into the room.

“So?” He laughed, throwing a bucket of soapy water on JJ. JJ cried out from the cold and shivered as her body went numb, causing an accident.

“Peas wet me go,” she begged, pleading with him as water ran down her face, into her eyes and mouth.

“No.” He told her. “You’re pathetic,” he laughed and pulled at her. He yanked the chains from around her wrists and she wiggled her hands. “Arms up,” he told her and she listened - raising her hands. He removed her t-shirt, leaving her in her bra before standing her up.

She whispered as she was dragged around the dark room, feeling so vulnerable.

“I wan mama,” she told him softly.

“I want you to shut the fuck up!” he screamed in her face and she cried out. He dropped her on the cold floor and then tied her feet to some chains on the floor. She cried and tried to wiggle away, fighting as she knew how but he only hit her across the face - quickly stopping her. When tied up, he forced her to her feet and bent her over the desk before going and getting his whip.

“Turn it off,” Tara said just before the unsub threw down the first hit. Garcia didn’t need to be told twice.

“Ive started the trace but it will take a few hours,” Garcia sighed, rubbing her eyes. She couldn’t stand this - none of them could.

“A couple of hours? We don’t have that long Garcia!” Emily groaned, standing up. Garcia flinched, looking at her boss.

“It’s better than nothing,” Rossi interjected. “We’ve got the ball rolling and we can try different things whilst we wait.”

“You want me to sit here and do nothing?” Emily cried, throwing up her arms.

“We all care about her Prentiss,” Morgan said. “Don’t act like we don’t. We all want her out of there safe.”

“I know you do,” Emily whispered, dropping back into her chair and lowering her head. “I just can’t imagine what she's feeling right now.”

The unsub had tied JJ up, hanging her from the ceiling by her arms. She was cold, freezing cold from the water and the lack of a T-shirt. Her back was in so much pain, blistered, bleeding and bruising - so was her bottom. She wanted her mama more than anything. She didn’t mean to be naughty, she didn’t know what she did but she didn’t mean to be bad. She sobbed in the dark. Rain hammered on the ceiling and JJ didn’t like storms as it is, never mind now. She could hear the horses in the fields outside. She could hear the pigs too and giggled as they made their oinking noises. She copied them - remembering the time her mama took her to the farm to see all the pigs and cows. She oinked in reply to the pigs then and now, giggling as they seemed to converse with her.

“The pigs! Can you hear them?” Reid gasped, standing up. “Garcia turn it up.” Garica instantly turned the sound up and the whole team heard the rain and the pigs and horses outside.

“Maps, right now,” Emily demanded. “Look for any farmlands in the area who own cows and pigs-” she said. Then Reid jumped up, to his map on the wall.

“He has to be within a five miles radius because between the time JJ was taken and the live stream started he couldn’t have got that far…” he studied his map and then drew a circle.

“There are three farmlands in that area that own horses and pigs,” Garcia said.

“Add the weather report, it's raining really hard. Can you hear the thunder too?” Morgan asked, turning the volume up more. At the sudden burst of thunder and flash of lightning, JJ jumped. She cried out for Emily and began to cry even harder.

Twenty minutes later and the team were pulling up to the farm. Everyone jumped out of their cars and headed into the barn, knowing JJ was there. However, the unsub had her in his arms.

JJ gasped, seeing Emily and tried to scramble from his arms but his grip only tightened and he pressed the barrel of the gun closer to her temple.

“MAMA!” JJ screamed, with every single effort in her body.

“It’s okay!” Emily gasped, speaking to JJ. “Mama’s here but you have to stay still,” she said softly.

“Mama,” JJ cried, trying hard to escape.

“Shut the fuck up!” the unsub screamed in her ear and JJ stopped in his arms. She cried softly to herself.

“Let her go,” Derek told the unsub.

“What’s in it for me?” he laughed.

“You won’t get a life sentence for killing an FBI agent,” he said.

The unsub laughed loudly, “She’s hardly an adult never mind an FBI agent.”

“If you don’t let her go, we’ll kill you,” Reid told him.

“You’d kill me if I killed her as well,” he whispered, cocking the gun.

“JJ,” Emily said suddenly. “Look at me.” JJ opened her eyes and landed them on Emily. Emily tried the one thing she hoped she’d never have to do but she didn’t have any other options. “Do you remember when mama told you about the cakes and the biscuits?” she asked. JJ cried and nodded softly.

“I need you to dunk the biscuit,” Emily said softly but JJ shook her head.

“I hurtin mama,” she cried.

“I know, I know.” Emily whispered and took a step forward but the unsub pointed the gun at Emily - stopping her in his tracks.

As soon as the gun was no longer on her, JJ ducked and knocked the unsub over. She hit his arm backwards, forcing the gun from his hand. A shot was fired and JJ scrambled away as the unsub reached for her and his gun. Derek and Reid advanced on the unsub as JJ ran to Emily.

“You left me!” the blonde instantly screamed as she hit Emily, causing her to go tumbling back.

“Baby, I-”

“No! No! No No!” JJ screamed, backing away from her mama as she opened her arms. “You left me! You pomise Mama!” She shouted. Tears flooded her face from the fear of everything.

“I’m so sorry Jay,” Emily cried. “You’re safe now,” she told the young girl.

“You fault,” JJ whimpered. She ran from Emily as sirens started outside. She crawled into the corner of the room where she sobbed heavily into her crossed arms. It was all too much for her small brain to comprehend. Fighting back for her mama, she did what she was told - she dunked the biscuit but she didn’t feel safe. She needed her mama but her mama left her there.

“Mama,” she sobbed into her arms, so confused about what she wanted.

Emily walked up to the small girl in the corner, her blanket and paci in her hand. She didn’t say anything, just sat beside her. JJ didn’t look up, knowing it was Emily. She handed JJ the paci and the girl snatched it off her, putting it in her mouth - her ultimate comfort. Emily then threw JJ’s blanket over her shoulder before picking up the blonde. Jay wrapped her arms and legs around Emily and buried her head in her neck.

“Mama’s got you.”

#little!jj #cg!emily #criminal minds #criminal minds agere #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #jj x emily #jj #jj criminal minds #little space

[jedi-bird]

Tw: pet death

My stinky demon passed on last night in her sleep. She was a fuzzy little brat and a pain in the butt and I loved her so much. We had thirteen and a half years together, which was a year more than I truly expected. She got really sick last year and all this time it's felt borrowed. I tried not to take it for granted.

Her real name was Charlotte. She's gone by a lot of nicknames over the years; she and her sister were collectively known an demons one and two for years. Stinky demon came about when she started having trouble keeping cleaning and I said "you're stinky", which for some reason made her purr super loud and headbutt me. She would knead my arms as I'd wipe her down to clean her up.

Charlotte was part of what I jokingly called the pirate litter. Her mother was feral and chose to have her second litter in my yard. Momma let me hold her babies at only a few days old despite not letting me touch her until months later (pirate litter would be her last litter because I managed to get her spayed; she got to live her life in my yard as happy as she could be until she died). Her brothers were Jack, Barbossa, and Blackbeard, while her sister is Calico Ann (Cali). None of her brothers made it past six months, though I tried so hard. That litter for hit by so many misfortunes and health issues. Only Charlotte and Cali made it, and now only Cali is left.

At eight weeks, Charlotte broke her leg. I'm pretty sure my neighbor shot her with a pellet gun, because they loved to target my house but I could never prove it. I spent months and thousands of dollars trying to help it and sometimes wish I had just had the vet amputate her leg; neither of us knew she would decide to do a backflip on her last day in the cast and completely flip her ankle bone around. She has arthritis starting at six months old and had to be on medication for the rest of her life. I told her that since she was my most expensive cat ever, she wasn't allowed to leave me.

Knowing this was coming doesn't make it easier, but for this moment, my tears are mostly dry. I've been prepared. We've kept her comfortable and monitored and we got some final snuggles in. I miss my stinky demon. Life just got a lot quieter (literally, because she used to yell at me daily).

Born just days before a thunderstorm that flooded my yard. Companion through the death of two family members. Opinionated. Stubborn. Snuggly and prickly. Thanks for loving me back.

#tw pet death

[themotherofblood]

Tum Mile

Stucky x Reader

Sukoon Mila AU

A/N: finally managed to write a chapter for this!!

Tw: major post trauma descriptions. Mentions of torture, rape/ sexual assault.

Post Civil War 2016-17

Silence, a gentle click of machines and pure silence. The room smelled clean and of earthy incense, a warm yellow glow coated the room, the bed underneath you was soft, the sheets felt cool and there was pillow underneath your head. They gave you a pillow? You tried to move but then noticed the black padded restrains on your ankles and wrists, defeated you plopped your head back onto pillow. You felt stronger, more awake and your bones didn’t hurt and neither did the cuts, was this another test? The heart monitor next to you indicated the pick up in your heartbeat and on cue the door to the room opened, you shut your eyes fighting a sob back

Please, no more.

Please, kill me.

The second people poured into the room, you fought against your restraints, as they touched you screamed and fought against them. Drowning out their reassurances as your eyes blurred in tears

“You are alright.”

“You are safe.”

“Please just breathe.”

All their voices surrounded you, it’s a trick. They’ll torture you more you thought and kept fighting. The people around had no choic but to inject a sedative into you so they could change your bandages without you hurting yourself.

“She is disoriented for sure, our first attempts to make contact was heavily traumatic for her… but we hope to try again in a weeks time.” Shuri’s voice recollected on a projected screen with Tony behind it, the billionaire never felt so helpless in his life than watching you recover from behind a screen. He had no idea where you were geographically but he could see your body gain it’s life back, the bruises that should have taken much longer to heal, fading due to Wakandan medicine.

Bucky watched you everyday, he was there when the woke you up. He felt unworthy of the healing he was effectively going through when you laid broken on a bed, afraid out of your mind. He couldn’t hold you, he couldn’t tell you that everything was alright. They messed up big time and now their political situation left them estranged as you were right under their noses. He had received a call from Steve, they couldn’t speak for long but Bucky sobbed all way through. Walking into your room, where you laid unconscious with a small frown on your face. You breathing but you were battered, he held the phone against your ear as Steve’s voice comforted you through the phone, voice breaking as he sang an old 50s tune. Bucky held you hand trying to coax it into your subconscious that you were perfectly safe now.

Subconsciously you heard them, but it was a dream to you. Their muffled voices, their touches all of it was false in your head. You would never leave this wretched place, they would hurt you forever.

The second time they lowered your sedation was same as the last, the Wakandan nurses approached carefully, even trying to use the names of your known friends to let you know that they weren’t a trick. However you were the same, with less fight and more fear. Begging them to stop, to let you go, that this was a trick and they had come to torture you some more. Bucky watched it all from behind the one way glass, his eyes nearly brimming in tears and body shaking in rage for what they did to you.

The third time they tried something different, they had printed out pictures of your family and your time with avengers and put them around the room you were in, this time Shuri was the only one in the room. Pacing and awaiting for you to gain consciousness, when you stirred she maintained her distance. Just as the time before, you took in your surrounding and pulled at your binds until your eyes fell towards Shuri, whose face held a sympathetic smile as she kept her hands in front of her to indicate that she was friend. When you didn’t scream this time, she dragged a stool to sit next to your bed, making you shuffle away from her.

“You’re new.” Your voice trembled, you knew every doctor that worked for Dr Whitehall, everyone of them had seen you bare and while Whitehall’s questionable protocols kept you safe from being assaulted. You were often stripped on a table as they injected god knows what into your system. The notion of rape was beyond the German scientist.

“Y/N do you know what happened to you?” Shuri’s voice sounded soft and reassuring, while you were unaware of who she was, you wanted her to stop talking to you.

The newer assistants or interns that webbed themselves into Hydra, often couldn’t stomach the detachment from their victims. A few were cool enough to slip more water or food to the test subjects, and you weren’t a test subject, you were bait and anyone who held an inkling of remorse to you ended up hurt. They would make you watch, as the paid for disobeying their orders. This girl looked young, you didn’t want them to hurt her.

“Y/N you were rescued…” A broken whimper left your mouth as you nodded no to what the girl said. She was lying, this was ploy to make you give up information, or some weird psychological test.

He would hurt you if you believed her, you were to stay here with Whitehall, they days you had stopped fighting or gone through a procedure compliantly, he would reward you with more food or a warm blanket as you sat whimpering in his lab. Watching him work on his test subjects, his voice explaining his experiments over the muffled screams of whoever was on the table. Some deranged part of you wanted to keep him pleased, so would ask him questions about what he was doing, or who the test subject was. Sometimes the repertoire or his trials where forming a pattern in your brain; often handing him the right instrument without being asked. The day you handed him his scalpel, he knew they had truly broken you.

“There is someone who you like to see you, is that alright?” Shuri’s voice pulled you out of your panicked state, you nodded hesitantly; eyes still coated in fear. She nodded at the wall, and a few moments later the door to your room opened

In walked Okoye and Ayo first, both easing their stern looking to a more soft inviting ones and behind them walked in T’Challa. The second you saw him, your mouth parted in shock.

“Do you remember who that is?” You eyes never left his and you nodded

“K- King T’Challa…” Your voice broke by the end of it as tears welled in your eyes, you darted you head to the young black girl sat next to you.

“This is isn’t Hydra?” You whimpered as your face scrunched in conflicted tears of fear and relief.

“You are in Wakanda, my friend.” The king spoke up.

“This is isn’t Hydra.” You cried out, completely breaking down as you realized you were indeed rescued. Pained cries tore through you as Shuri and Ayo reached to undo your padded cuffs. You hid you face in your palms, curling in a fetal position as pure agony radiated through you. Her hand rubbed up and down your back as your furious sobs only got worse, practically drenching the pillow your head laid one. She tried to get you to focus, and as you did she handed you a device, looked very similar to a phone but looked far advanced. From it came a muffled voice, as your chest heaved profusely; you pressed to your ear.

“Hey rockstar! You are going to be just fine.” Tony’s voice only made you cry harder.

“T-Tony?” You sobbed out loud.

Behind the one way glass, were Wakandan doctors, Ayo who was watching over the people that had come in hours before.

Steve held Bucky as both of the silently cried at your state. Natasha rubbed her hand up and down Steve’s back and Sam looked absolutely torn. Bucky wanted nothing more than to walk in there and hold you, let you scream and cry as much as you needed to until you felt safe again, or whole again. Steve was internally beating himself up for not finding you sooner, for putting you in such a dangerous situation in the first place. Everyone around you felt incredibly helpless, Wanda felt everything you did, and partly she wanted to use her powers to calm you. It would have anonymous and you’d never know but Steve protested against it. You needed to feel this, you needed it to get stronger.

Once you had calmed down enough, still sniffling Shuri opened the blinds to what you through was a wall, they were floor to ceiling windows. Giving you a full veiw of the city below. Any other time you would gush over it but right now your head hurt.

“Do you know what year this is?” Shuri began to ask some needed questions to help you be more aware

“2015?” You weren’t sure how long you were at Hydra

“It’s 2017.” She smiled at you sympathetically.

“H-How um, how…” You began to grow frustrated at not being able to say what you were feeling, Shuri sensed it immediately and completing your sentence for you.

“You have been here for five months.” She patted her hand in your shoulder.

“Home?” You blurted the first word you thought off, you wanted to go home and be around people that knew you.

“Soon, my friend.” She answered.

—————————————————————————

“Most her internal injuries and fractures have healed to the point where western medicine will be of help to her. As far as cognitives go… the is work to be done on that scope.” Shuri reports her usual updates to Tony. “I recommend sending her back to you guys, would do her good being around people she knows.”

“Right then…” Tony was more than elated to prep your arrival.

Within the next day, a jet from the Wakandan fleet was prepped to take you home, Okoye herself would escort you to New York. That morning you thanked Shuri as best you could before the escorted you to the tarmac; this was the first time you had looked around the city, their air smelled so much sweeter and the culture and people around. However your time here was pure hell, and you regretted how hostile you were against the people who were just trying to help you.

Bucky watched from the palace window as they wheeled you out, still torn over not being able to go with you. Steve had left a week before to deal with more Hydra outposts and find Whitehall himself. He had come to visit you when you were asleep, the medication keeping you in a much deeper sleep than usual; he didn’t touch you but sat in the room in silence just staring at you for hours until he had to leave.

The flight in itself took six hours, you zoned out through most of it, just staring the abyss of the sky. You didn’t speak a word, you didn’t speak much at all these days. You felt almost numb, almost not wanting to believe that you were going home.

When the jet landed at the Compound, five people stood outside waiting. Tony, Rodhey, Vision and Pepper. The second the tail lowered and Tony saw you get up from your wheelchair; he ran as fast as his legs would take him, stopping right in front you. He wanted nothing more than to engulf you in a hug but he wasn’t sure how receptive you would be of anyone touching you, however when you threw your arms around him, he held you like the world would fall apart if he let you. You cried as you held him as he walked you down the ramp.

“You’re home, you’re safe.”

#stucky x reader #stucky #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #steve rogers #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky imagine #tony stark #shuri #wakanda forever #Sukoon Mila au

[granulesofsand]

TW for mentions of consentual sex and psychosomatics! Please be careful!

Hiya! I was wondering if you could talk about the symptoms associated with beta programming or tbmc/dbmc once engaging in safe and consentual sex.

We recently had a pretty terrifying experience during consentual sex in which we felt as though we were bound by the ankles and wrists with heavy vibrating weights for hours post-activity. At one point (during the act) our hands and legs even locked up, accompanied by pins and needles-esc pain in them coming from the invisible bindings.

We have no clue what could possibly cause such a vivid experience for hours aside from possible intense trauma. Are psychosomatics like these common in RAMCOA survivors?

I hope this makes sense! Thank you in advance!

🗝️🏷️ RAMCOA, programming, sex and sexual abuse

Hello! Psychosomatic flashbacks, or body memories, are common for RAMCOA survivors. It’s a similar story across CDDs in general, but abusers do use physical sensation in programs.

I’m not sure how much you know about RAMCOA or your history with it, the rest is just whatever came to mind.

There is the possibility that it isn’t a flashback, but most people don’t have the capacity to feel physically what they have not felt before. If you or another alter can do this, it’s still very possible that abusers weaponized this ability.

During consensual activity, you could be experiencing programs activating as intended (if you have programs) or an alter having flashbacks in general. RAMCOA systems can have trauma responses that weren’t intentionally cultivated or that can be triggered without an implanted cue.

Deprogramming is better done with a trusted companion, but attempting contact might be allowed. If there’s pain, asking for an explanation is a next step. Don’t push too hard, especially if you are working alone.

I hope this helped, I’m sorry that you’re suffering. Please take care of yourselves and monitor developments well.

#ramcoa #tw ramcoa #did osdd #dissociative identity disorder #traumagenic system #osddid #did system #polyfragmented system

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TW: blood clots, life-threatening illness

In January I had what was described as a 'very large' blood clot in my lungs that caused a pulmonary embolism. Originally, they couldn't figure out the cause.

At the beginning of this week, my resting heart rate was around 15/20 BPM lower than usual, sitting around 52. Noticed swelling/slight pain in my ankle. Ended up going to urgent care.

I had an ultrasound yesterday on my right leg - turns out this is the source of my issues. I have clots running down most of the main artery, with only behind the knee being completely clear. complete DVT. I'm now being referred to a vascular surgeon.

I also have a high chance of suffering from more clots, and another pulmonary embolism.

My anxiety is through the roof. I'm constantly thinking I'm going to have a heart attack. I can't stop monitoring my HR and panicking over it.

If anyone has any previous experience with either DVT, Pulmonary embolisms, or blood clots in general and has any advice, please get in touch. I need help through this.

#pulmonary embolism #deep vein thrombosis #dvt #PE #Blood clots #health advice #anxiety