#I pretty much drew him from memory

[guess-i-do-art]

We were taking notes on the Great Depression plus its causes during my ELA class and when I saw that all I could think was…

[wtfforged]

i can draw whatever i want

[illdragyoudownwithme]

ehehe 4 arm raph,,, with glasses,,,

anyway hes made projections with 4 arms,,, so now he has 4 arms

The birth of a raphsona??? perhaps???

the first time i drew raph ,,,,,, and that was using a shit ton of refs. nice to see a lil improvement :] this uses no refs except for the pose cause I'm an obsessed sdfjkasgj this is my drug,,,, think I fucked up the legs tho,, wanted to crop em out but eh. made em too big lol

someone give me drawing ideas I'm on a fukin roll

ps I literally only draw raph like u see people who either don't draw raph or draw everyone

no

I don't know how to draw anyone but raph ok and im fine with that all I need is raph

[arolesbianism]

Realized it’s been over a year since I last drew him and couldn’t stand by that

[mariasont]

Early seasons Spencer’s gf joining the team and quickly realizing just how used to Spencer she is bc the rest of the team’s reactions to him are so different from hers

Cinnamon Sticks - S.R

a/n: obsessed with the idea of baby spencie having a gf who just gets him while he's still an awkward, nerdy little genius! thanks for requesting bestie so sorry it took so long i am the worst LOL

masterlist

pairings: early!seasons!spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: established relationship, secret relationship, relationship being exposed bc these two are just so in love

wc: 1.7k

Garcia burst into the bullpen like some sort of whirlwind that was practically painted in neon, her scarf fluttering behind her almost like a cape. She juggled a precariously full cup of coffee, while her phone teetered between ear and shoulder as if testing the limits of human dexterity.

"I swear to all that is holy, if my life doesn't slow down in the next five minutes —"

The sentence derailed as she misjudged her pace, the coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the cup. She stopped abruptly, but not quick enough to stop the scalding liquid from spilling over and searing her fingers.

"Oh, fantastic! Just what I needed!" she huffed, waving her hand like it might stop the sting.

She threw herself into the closest chair with a dejected sigh, slumping back and fixing the coffee cup with a murderous glare, like this was just another tally in a long line of grievances.

Your eyes darted up from your work, only for a moment, enough to confirm what you already knew. You hadn't been working here long, but it was long enough to recognize the phenomenon that was Garcia: a blur of movement and words, mid-rant before anyone had the chance to catch up. It was like clockwork really.

You risked a glance across the desk at Spencer, who was so absorbed in his notebook it was a wonder he even remembered to breathe. If Garcia's antics registered as white noise to anyone, it was him. But then, almost like he had a radar for being watched, he looked up, catching your gaze.

His eyebrows lifted into a subtle what can you do? expression, and you couldn't help but smile back.

That was the thing about Spencer. He had this uncanny knack for knowing exactly what you were thinking, almost as if he had a cheat sheet for your brain. And maybe he did, like his brain worked three times faster than everyone else's in the room (which, let's face it, it definitely did). But instead of that being intimidating, it was oddly reassuring.

"At this rate, I'm one bad email away from alphabetizing my entire pantry for stress relief."

Spencer's notebook hit the desk, and there it was, the shift you loved to look for. His shoulders drew back, face lighting up, the kind of thing that signaled his mini-lecture was incoming.

"Organizing your pantry is actually a practical stress management technique. By categorizing items, you create a structured environment that reduces decision fatigue. Its why people feel calmer in tidy spaces, it's psychological."

Morgan held up a hand. "Psychological, huh? Sounds like you’re just trying to justify your weird love affair with labels, pretty boy.”

“Don’t forget,” you added absently, flipping a page in your report, “it also saves time when you’re cooking. I think you called it practical efficiency."

The words slipped out without much thought, but as soon as they did, the bullpen stilled. You glanced up, heart sinking as you saw every face turned in your direction.

Morgan’s grin was the first thing you notice, wide and knowing, stretching across his face. He tilted his head, eyes bouncing between you and Spencer like he was putting pieces together in real time.

“Wait a minute,” he said, sitting forward with a gleam in his eye. “Did you just quote him? Like, word for word?”

Your cheeks heated instantly. “What? No. I mean — maybe. I don’t know.”

“Pretty sure you did,” Morgan shot back, smirking. “Man, what else has he been teaching you? You got the periodic table memorized too?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “Oh, please. If you’ve been around Spencer long enough, you’re bound to pick up a few things. He’s like a walking encyclopedia.”

“Well,” Spencer said, his head tilting slightly as he spoke, “your cinnamon sticks always end up at the back of your pantry. That’s why I figured you might appreciate the idea of organizing by use frequency. Like I said, practical efficiency.”

The moment the words left his mouth, you knew he’d made a tactical error.

Garcia gasped, her eyes lighting up like she’d just been handed the juiciest piece of gossip of her life. 

“Oh. My. God. Spencer Reid, how exactly do you know what the back of her pantry looks like?”

You froze, rooted to the spot as the realization hit you like a cartoon anvil. 

This was bad.

Spencer’s expression mirrored yours for half a second, bug-eyed panic, but he quickly scrambled for an answer. 

“It’s, um… a logical assumption,” he stammered, his fingers toying with the pen in his hand, a nervous tell he couldn’t quite suppress. “Spices like cinnamon sticks always seem to migrate to the back of the pantry unless there’s an intentional system in place.”

Morgan let out a long, low whistle, rocking back in his chair with enough force to make it creak.

“Nice save. But I don’t think Garcia’s buying it.”

Garcia tapped her chin, clearly enjoying herself far too much. “Oh, no, no, no. This is too good. I mean, logical assumption  my fabulous behind! Cinnamon sticks in the back of her pantry? Really? What’s next? A detailed analysis of how she stacks her cereal boxes?”

You laughed, though it sounded more like a bark than anything natural. “You’re all reading way too much into this. Spencer just knows weirdly specific things about, well, everything. That’s kind of his thing, remember?”

“Mmhmm,” Garcia hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Alright, genius, I’ll let it slide this time. But I’m watching you.”

“Please don’t,” Spencer muttered under his breath, earning a round of laughter from the team.

Garcia spent a solid ten minutes in full interrogation mode after that, her eyes narrowing with each and every pointed question she lobbed your way. Morgan, of course, was no help. He leaned back, grinning like a kid with a front-row seat to the circus, his smirk practically screaming that he knew they were this close to striking a nerve.

Spencer and you had been so careful. You'd been dating long before you joined the BAU, but the moment Hotch had called to offer you the position, you both knew you'd have to keep things under wraps. Dating a coworker was one thing; dating Spencer Reid, a genius with an accidentally too-honest mouth, was an entirely different challenge.

You hadn't expected it to be this hard, though. Keeping the secret wasn't the worst part, it was pretending he wasn't the center of your universe every time you walked into the room. It was keeping your hands to yourself when all you wanted to do was smooth out the messy strands of hair that always fell into his eyes. It was biting your tongue when someone interrupted his long-winded tangents because the truth was, you loved hearing him talk.

The hours stretched on, and the bullpen slowly thinned out. Garcia was the first to leave, blowing a kiss to the room. Morgan left soon after, pausing to flash you one last grin before disappearing. Even Prentiss packed up for the night, muttering something about needed an extra shot of espresso tomorrow morning.

"You handled that well."

You looked up from your report to find Spencer by your desk, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other skimming lightly along the edge of the divider. His expression was surprisingly soft, almost bashful, as though he had been waiting to get you alone.

"Handled that well?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You were the one who almost blew it, Spencer. Cinnamon sticks? Really?"

He smiled, lips twitching upward as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Okay, I'll admit that wasn't my most subtle moment. But in my defense, they do end up at the back of most pantries."

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head as you leaned back in your chair. 

"We're lucky Garcia got distracted. If she'd pushed any harder..." Your voice drifted into a soft sigh. "That could've been bad."

"That was a close one."

The quiet that followed wasn't uncomfortable, but it felt a little more substantial, if that was the word, filled with that miniscule ache that always bloomed in your chest when he was near. 

Spencer stepped closer, his hand brushing against the edge of your desk. His body angled toward you, like even when you weren’t touching, he couldn’t help but gravitate toward you.

“You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “I don’t think she actually suspects anything. But we should probably be more careful.”

"Probably," you replied, drawing out the word in a teasing, sing-song tone. “Unless you’d rather keep showing off how ridiculously well you know me.”

His cheeks flushed a soft pink, but he didn’t look away. Instead, that shy, boyish smile, the one that always made you a little breathless, spread across his lips.

"That's going to be hard," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I noticed a lot about you."

You could feel the flush creeping up to your neck, and you mentally cursed him for how easily he was able to do this to you.

"You're lucky I like you."

His smile widened, and his eyes crinkled at the corners in that way they only came out at specific moments. Like when he successfully performed a card trick for the team or when he stumbled across an original copy of a book at a library sale. 

The same one you'd seen when he talked about his mom on her good days, or when you asked him on a date. 

You leaned forward. "And since I like you, any chance you'd want to kiss me right now?"

"How could I not, with you looking at me like that?"

The angle was clumsy, your chair too low, his frame leaning awkwardly over, but all of that melted away the second his hands found your face. His thumbs brushed soft circles against the place where your cheek met your jaw.

His lips were soft against yours at first, testing, before growing firmer, more sure. The kind of confidence that came with a hundred familiar kisses before. 

Time seemed to slow, or at least for you it did, the rest of the world nonexistent.

The sound of a throat clearing broke the spell, and you jerked back from Spencer, your chair wobbling slightly as you turned toward the sound. You immediately regretted it — your lips felt swollen, your face hot, and there was Prentiss, leaning against the doorframe.

"We were... uh, testing something," you blurted, avidly avoiding eye contact. "You know, like... oxygen exchange! For scientific purposes."

Spencer blinked, then mumbled, "Oxygen exchange? That's the best you got?"

"Shut it," you hissed through gritted teeth, not daring to look at him.

Prentiss arched a brow. "Relax, lovebirds. If this is your idea of scientific research, I'll make sure Garcia doesn't find out. You're welcome."

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[s0lidar1ty]

SLUTTED OUT

SYNOPSIS. Aftermath of the SAG Awards

NOTE. We’re gonna pretenddd this is Rafe instead of Drew cause writing for actors as said actor (if that makes sense) just isn’t up my alley

CW: pure SMUT, praise, sweet talking, pet names, overstimulation, choking, raw sex, breeding kink

The SAG Awards are over, but the real celebration is happening behind the locked door of RAFE CAMERON'S penthouse suite.

His tux jacket is long forgotten, discarded somewhere between the entrance and the bedroom, his bowtie hanging loose around his neck. The crisp baby blue button-down he wore hours ago is unbuttoned halfway, sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing tanned forearms flexing as he holds himself over you. The scent of his cologne—deep, expensive, unmistakably him—lingers in the air, mixing with the champagne fizzing in two half-empty glasses on the nightstand. But neither of you care about the drinks anymore.

Rafe is a man intoxicated by something else entirely.

His body is a furnace against yours, his hands everywhere—possessive, teasing, gripping your hips like he’s grounding himself, like he can’t get enough. Because he can’t. There’s something different about him tonight, something deeper, more desperate. The high of the night still lingers in his bones, but underneath it is something raw.

"You looked so good with me tonight," he murmurs against your skin, lips dragging over the curve of your shoulder. "Had every guy in that room watching you like they had a chance."

His voice is rough, heavy with pride and something dangerously close to worship. He punctuates his words with slow, burning kisses, his body pressing you deeper into the mattress, making sure you feel every inch of him.

His movements are deliberate—pushing you to the edge only to pull you back, a smug smirk playing at his lips when you whimper his name. Rafe loves control, loves watching you come undone under his touch, loves knowing he’s the only one who gets to see you like this. And tonight? He has no plans of stopping. No plans on slowing down. Not until you see stars behind those pretty eyes of yours.

The city lights glow through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting his skin in shades of gold and shadow. His jaw is tight, brows furrowed in concentration as he watches your reactions, committing them to memory as he grinds his hips into yours, hitting that one spot that makes your breath hitch and your fingers dig into his back.

You let out a strangled moan, your manicured nails—paid for by yours truly—leaving red lines along his shoulder blades. You go to muffle your whines into the crook of his neck, but Rafe knows you; moves quicker than you. He leans back, his hand wrapping gently around your throat, forcing you to look at him. Keeping eye contact until your eyes roll back and your thighs start shaking as your orgasm crashes over you.

"Not done with you yet," he rasps, lips brushing against yours, but never quite giving you what you want. His fingers tighten just slightly around your throat, his other hand gripping your hip like he’s keeping you in place. He chuckles lowly when you arch into him. "Just like that, pretty. Oh, you're doing so good, baby."

"I—oh my… God, Ray," you gasp, your hand gripping his around your neck, nails pressing into his skin.

"Yeah?" His grin is wicked, eyes dark with amusement. "Tell me how you feel. Use your words."

"Fuuuuck," you whimper.

That’s all he needs to hear. He knows exactly what to say to push you further, to keep you teetering on the edge. He’s smug about it too, his smirk only growing when he sees how wrecked you are beneath him.

Your head starts to spin—from the lack of oxygen, from the sheer, overwhelming pleasure flooding your veins. Each deep, measured stroke sends a sharp, delicious pressure up your spine, making your fingers clench at the sheets, your breath hitch in your throat.

Rafe notices. Rafe always notices.

"Too much?" he taunts, but there’s no real concern in his voice. Just that cocky tilt of his head, that barely-there smirk as he watches you unravel. "Or just enough?"

Your legs tighten around his waist in response, pulling him in deeper, and that’s answer enough. His jaw clenches, a quiet groan slipping past his lips as his head dips to your shoulder.

"That's my girl," he murmurs, his lips brushing hot against your skin. "Taking me so good. Always so perfect for me, huh?"

You can’t even form words anymore, not when every nerve in your body is alight, not when he’s moving like that—like he knows exactly how to break you, exactly how to put you back together again.

Then, his voice drops, low and wrecked, a whisper meant just for you. "You’d look so good carrying my baby, you know that?" His thrusts slow, deeper now, like he’s savoring every reaction, like the thought alone is enough to make him lose it. "Bet you’d love that too, huh, princess? Letting me fill you up, watching that pretty belly of yours get all 'round just for me."

Your head is spinning, and he knows it—knows you’re too far gone to fight the way his words sink into your overheated brain, making you nod before you even realize it.

"Yeah?" His grin is wicked, pleased. His hand slides down, pressing against the soft plane of your stomach. "Can feel me right here, baby. That’s where I’d be. Right inside you, right where I belong."

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Soft yan clan leader has me soo🫠 imagine the horror if he were to argue with his beloved wife or try to deny her something and she looks like she's about to cry or the grovel if he pissed her off and she ignored him ahhh i neeeed himmm

Oh my... the ideas in my head... 😶‍🌫️

Soft Yandere! Clan Leader x Wife! Reader

warnings(?): slight angst, very cheesy/romantic, emotions

note: it's written from his perspective:)

"I refuse." his tone was strict, reminiscent of a dull dagger that someone forgot to sharpen. That's what you did to him; you took his bite away.

Sighing he massaged his temples.

"I don't want my wife roaming around the streets ever again without my explicit knowledge." his fingers curled until his knuckles whitened.

"Do you have any idea of the sheer number of ill-intending people out on streets at nighttime? My love what if danger befell you while I wasn't there to shield you? What if some sick bastard—."

"Husband. Did I hurt you so?" your bottom lip trembled, shame glistened in the corners of your eyes; those beautiful eyes that he wanted to bind with silk so that no one else could admire them.

"My love I just worry—"

"I didn't want to cause you to worry." now you started sniffling and he could audibly hear his heart shatter. "I just missed my hometown so much and— I forgot myself. I am sorry." you muttered. He could detect the insecurity creep into your wavering tone; he was losing you again to the demons in your pretty head.

"I won't ever cause you trouble again, husband."

"My love that isn't what I—"

"Goodnight." you spun on your heel, adamant on slipping through his fingers like sand before he could even raise his voice in protest, demanding you to stay. If you just knew that he didn't blame you for getting carried away by the memories of your childhood, longing for a time much more innocent nor that he found you troublesome—he only wanted you safe and snug under his wing, why couldn't you understand?

But he wouldn't have that. No more. He would never tire of chasing you—but he couldn't bear the sight of your backside any longer.

"Love," his breath tickled the shell of your ear, on hand splayed across your waist, the other wrapped around your jaw, "don't run away. At least not today. I apologise, so much, for your husband's inability to make you understand just how much he loves you."

He sighed again, pressing a kiss to your earlobe, over the dangling diamond that had once belonged to his mother.

"Please don't think you're troubling me. I only worry because wherever you go you take my soul with you. And a man can't survive without that, now can he?" he drew you further in, engulfed you in his embrace, letting the darkness of the night be the only observer of the intimacy between the two of you.

"My love." he breathed.

"My love," he repeated,"I love you, please stop believing otherwise. I beg you of you. Please love me too." there was clear frustration in his tone, silent suffering that would only rarely slip through the cracks of his usual mask yet with you; he discarded that very facade alltogether.

The room was cloaked in darkness like so many other nights, yet this night felt colder, icy even. He was desperate to reach through to you. Slowly, the words he would always spit out felt repetitive; too artificial for his liking and he feared you would perhaps never believe in them.

"My love please—"

You kissed him.

He had searched for heaven before he met you, but now he found it between your lips. In the way you hugged him not with your arms but with your mouth, glossy gaze a split open, gazing at him as if you had finally, finally, accepted the truth.

It was mind-numbingly sweet; it didn't last very long, your tongue only shyly prodded at his bottom lip before you tried fleeting back like a startled deer, eyes everywhere but on him. Still, he held you in his arms refusing to let you escape—because now that he finally had a taste of heaven, he would never let you out of his embrace.

"I love you." he uttered. And now, even as you didn't reply, only looking away bashfully in the way he found so cute he could pinch your cheeks, he knew that he had finally succeeded.

He had captured your heart—the soul of his heaven, his sacramentum, his moon.

You were his.

[crushpunky]

drew and costar!reader take the glamour friendship test

masterlist

based on this ask :)

Y/n and Drew walked out onto the bright, white set, their outfits coordinating shades of purple as they prepared for another interview ahead of the release of their film, “Be My Mistake”.

Exercise 1: First Impressions

“Scary… very scary.” Y/n said, looking over at Drew to gauge his reaction. He furrowed his brow, looking between her and the camera before they both descended into giggles. Y/n leaned into Drew as she laughed, Drew catching her and pushing her back up.

“We were told we needed to take this seriously and this is the [bleep] you pull.” Drew chuckled, shaking his head, a grin on his face.

“Ok, ok, seriously,” y/n said, “I was a bit intimidated, but that was mainly because he was so business-y and… I mean Drew’s a pretty big and tall guy so there’s that. But once we got to talking, and he really got out of his shell, I was amazed by how intelligent and funny he was.”

“‘Intelligent and funny’. Wow.” Drew teased, elbowing y/n lightly. “Well, I knew of you before we met and was impressed with your talent and beauty on screen. However, once we met, I was thrilled to find a wonderful personality that accompanied all that.”

“We quickly found out that we’re just about the same person, so that was a pleasant surprise.” Y/n nodded, wrapping an arm around Drew and squeezing his arm lightly.

Exercise 2: Give Your Friend a Compliment

“I feel like we already did that,” Drew laughed, “but I can definitely find a couple more things to say.”

“I mean I guess I already said this, but Drew is really such an intelligent person,” Y/n gazed at Drew, “like not just book smart, but relationship, emotional smart. He’s very much in touch with all of that and is a very good gauge-r for people’s feelings.”

“Y/n is actually the funniest person I know and that’s not me being dramatic.” Drew grinned. “I don’t think I’ve ever laughed as much with anyone else… definitely not to the point of nearly getting kicked out of a restaurant.”

Y/n laughed at the memory. The two of them had gone out for a nice dinner following wrapping on “Be My Mistake”, dressing up and sharing a couple drinks. However, their usual banter resulted in them laughing quite loudly for the duration of the meal. Shortly after their main courses had arrived, a waiter had come over telling them about how some guests were complaining about the two of them being disruptive, which only made them laugh louder. By some grace of god, however, they didn’t get asked to leave.

“It’s not my fault I’m hilarious.” Y/n said with a simple shrug, causing Drew to laugh.

Exercise 3: Fishbowl of Memories

“Oooh.” Drew said as y/n took the large fishbowl from one of the PAs. Inside, various scraps of paper filled the bowl, each with a question.

“I’ll let you have the honor of going first.” Y/n smiled, offering the bowl out to Drew. He dug inside, grabbing a slip of paper as y/n sat the bowl down on the table in front of them.

“What was the funniest blooper in this film?” Drew read before glancing over at y/n, a smirk on his face. Y/n gave him the same look back, the two of them thinking of the same moment.

“There was an… unfortunate incident in which I accidentally pantsed Drew.” Y/n said, trying her best to stifle her laughter. Drew nodded his head, a warm pink spreading across his cheeks.

“You might be thinking, how do you accidentally pants someone?” Drew teased, y/n folding her hands on the table in front of her dramatically.

“We were filming a scene where our characters were arguing and Drew turned to walk away, and I went to follow after him,” y/n explained. “However, I tripped over a rug and fell. I tried to catch myself on Drew, I was sort of grabbing at him, but only ended up getting his pants before I fell… the pants coming with unfortunately.”

“I really hope that that’s not on the blooper real.” Drew shook his head, rubbing a hand along his jaw.

“Oh, I’m sure the ladies would love to see Starkey in his tighty-whities. A real treat.” Y/n teased. Drew cringed, shoving at y/n’s shoulder before gesturing for her to pick a piece of paper from the bowl.

“What is your favorite memory with each other?” Y/n read, looking over at Drew as the two of them thought. They stared at each other in silence, both of their brows furrowing as they shuffled through an abundance of memories.

“I think I have mine.” Drew said, snapping his fingers before turning towards the camera.

“Ok, ok. Me too. Let’s see if we agree.” Y/n nodded, still facing Drew as she waited for him to speak.

“Mine is when we went to get tattoos and y/n passed out and I had to carry her out to the car because she was being so dramatic.” Drew laughed, his laughter growing even louder as y/n’s jaw dropped. She hit his arm lightly, groaning at the memory. 

“I wasn’t being dramatic I— ok, maybe I was but I was probably still hungover from the night before.” Y/n chuckled.

“Your turn.” Drew said, leaning to rest his elbows on the table and his chin in his palms in faux overinterest.

“My favorite memory is when we sang Wicked at some karaoke bar and it was so bad that people started booing us.” Y/n laughed. They had gone out with the rest of the cast to a karaoke bar down the street from where they had been shooting. Later in the night, after a couple of drinks, Drew and y/n decided it would be a good idea to sing “Defying Gravity”. Neither of them being singers, nor anywhere talented enough for the numerous high notes, the regular patrons of the bar began booing and cringing at their attempt at the notoriously difficult to sing song.

“‘Please for the love of god stop’.” Drew recited one of the patrons’ comments, causing y/n to throw her head back laughing.

“Wow, jeez. That was a deep cut.” Y/n straightened herself back up, smoothing out the  front of her dress. Drew threw an arm over her shoulders, bringing her to his side.

“I think we passed. I think we’re friends, right?” Drew shook y/n playfully, who just let out a sarcastic groan.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Y/n gave in, wrapping her arm around Drew’s torso and hugging him lightly.

“Thank you for watching!” Drew said with a wave, y/n joining in and waving excitedly. The two of them jumped up and down, their waves growing more intense, until they both fell into each other and collapsed into laughter that continued even after the cameras cut.

[rafesproperty]

Rafe Cameron x Reader smut

Family dinner with the Camerons sucks… he needs to take his frustration out somehow. Luckily his pretty girl is right there.

Warnings: Ward Cameron ewww, fingering, dirty talk

Very ashamed to admit I thought of this when I was in a car with my family 😔

» masterlist

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You were actually pretty excited for this. Not particularly excited to see Ward or Rose. But Sarah was okay and Wheezie was amazing. Plus a dinner with the Camerons meant dressing up nicely, taking time to do your makeup, making sure your hair looked perfect, wearing a silver necklace with Rafes initial that he got for you. You felt good about yourself.

It also meant your boyfriend was gonna dress up. Wear a nice black shirt, wear his expensive rings, he’d smell so damn good. God you couldn’t wait for him to pick you up.

Rafe was almost at your house. He always tip-toed around the idea whether to invite you to their family dinners or not. Because… what if you wouldn’t like it? What if dragging you into their family business hurt you in some kind of way? What if it revealed to you what kind of a person he really is? That one scared him the most. But the image of you beside him kinda drew every worry away.

All of the remaining worries disappeared once you opened your door for him and flashed him a smile, hugging him tightly without even giving him a chance to take a proper look at you. “Hey there beautiful, hey let me get a look at you,” he mumbled and pulled away, his eyes scanning your figure head to toe.

You looked so fucking hot to him. In that figure hugging black dress with your hair up, revealing your pretty neck and the necklace that sat there, letting everyone know that you were his.

He gave it to you a while ago when he was just about to pick you up to take you to dinner. Rafe pulled up and saw you through your window, pacing around in excitement, checking if you have everything and debating over something with yourself. He just sat there for a minute, just eyes on you you, admiring you in peace (he didn’t feel at peace often… but always with you). Your own eyes looked out the window and you smiled at him.

He was at your door immediately, “Hi,” you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him close to you.

“Hey,” he murmured and burried his nose into your hair and neck as you leaned into him. “You smell so good,” he whispered, squeezing you tightly. “‘That what you were debatin’ about in the window? My, my…”

You chuckled and he got enamoured by that sound instantly, he allowed you to drag him inside, his lips softly kissing your neck the second he closed the door of your room, and while he was at it, he searched for a little fancy bag in his pocket. He gave you a little bite to let you know he really missed you.

You pulled on his hair and he let out a groan, biting right under your ear before he stopped completely. “Close your eyes for me baby.”

You did, all giggly and it made him chuckle as well.

He opened the silk bag and pulled out the thing. It was a bit fancier but honestly he didn’t need an occasion… he just wanted to get it for you. So he did. It was a necklace made from silver and really dark red ruby detailing with the initial “R”.

You opened your eyes and took a look at it, “Oh.” You smiled, showing your teeth, leaning in to kiss him. “Thank you, baby, I love it.”

“I love you,” He returned the quick kiss. It looked so damn good on you. He sighed once he finished putting it on you, admiring you, his fingers roaming your body.

“I love you,” you gasped for air as you felt him squeeze your hips.

“Okay,” he kissed your lips properly this time, “we still have some time,” Rafe mumbled between kisses and gave your lower lip a bite, “God…”

You had to redo your whole makeup that day…

He chuckled when he thought of that memory. Unfortunately he couldn’t afford the luxury of dragging you inside and showing you who you belong to, show you how much he loves you or cover your entire body in markings today. His dad was waiting for him. And Rafe couldn’t let him down.

The drive there was nice, you kept on rambling about your day and Rafe listened and kept playing with the hem of your dress with his free hand. When he tried to go higher you lightly smacked his fingers and he rolled his eyes and just kept massaging your thigh.

“I can’t wait to see Wheezie,” you’d say, and he knew what you were doing, mentioning his little sister on purpose to throw his mind off dirty thoughts about you. It definitely worked. For about a minute.

Ward was waiting for you. He said hi to Rafe and welcomed you with the fakest smile you’ve ever seen. You fake smiled right back at him. Rose never really treated you like someone important enough to even look at, she just considered you Rafes hook up of the month (even tho you’d been together for a while), and said a quick hi and ignored your presence for the rest of the evening. And you were glad she did.

Sarah was nice, smiled at you here and there as you two helped out with decorating the table — Ward insisted that neither of you had to do any work but you both genuinely enjoyed it. She was making small talk, and you knew she didn’t really trust you enough to open up. But she was being polite and she chuckled at your jokes so you appreciated her presence.

Sarah didn’t mind you at all. You were nice to her, funny, and she felt like she often clicked with you right away and like you might even become friends. But you were dating Rafe. So there must’ve been something sketchy about you and she’d rather not know. The idea of anyone finding him appealing genuinely confused the hell out of her.

And then there was Wheezie, running to you the second she saw you (ignoring Wards comments about being polite and not running around the garden), she immediately welcomed you, gave you a colorful bracelet she made and shared her thoughts about the events of a tv show you were both watching.

“And Jimmy cheated on her?! Come on!”

“Oh my God, I know right?! I really felt like he would never…”

Rafe watched you two with softened eyes, the image of you wearing his necklace made his pants feel tight but you laughing with Wheezie while wearing a bracelet she made you made his heart melt. He didn’t even notice Ward tried to call him over. Until he did. He straightened and made his way over to dad, feeling the sudden cold surround him.

“Yeah, dad?” He asked, not missing how irritated Ward was already. Ward explained another guest will be joining today — an important man, potentially a new business partner. He’d join with his two kids as well. Rafe wasn’t happy about it. If he knew it was just going to be a business meeting he wouldn’t have dragged you along.

“Be at your best behavior, son.” Ward said with a cold face and went over to Rose.

Rafe wasn’t very talkative for the rest of the evening. You could tell he wanted to impress his dad. He sat straight, he laughed politely at jokes that were not fucking funny at all, and you could not be more irritated by the kid that sat next to you.

Ward forgot to mention that these two kids were absolute fucking spoiled brats. And they both got a seat next to you. The kid closer to you would constantly hit his spoon, making the food spray everywhere, he’d occasionally kick you under the table, he spilled his drink and a little bit of it got on your dress. The kid sitting next to his brother was not any better, constantly making loud noises. God you were fuming.

Rafe noticed all of it but he was surprisingly better at hiding his anger than you were. He really was so different around his dad. When the kid kicked you again you were ready to throw hands, but Rafe touched your leg under the table and squeezed your thigh firmly, trying to tell you to stay calm. He looked at you with soft, sad eyes and you hated his father so much in that moment.

You locked eyes with him, your anger only getting worse as you raised your eyebrows, clearly irritated and ready to stand up for yourself, but he just kept pleading for you to stay calm with his own eyes so you rolled yours and grabbed his hand with your own, forcing him to squeeze your thigh a lot more. You moved his hand up, and squeezed again, signaling for him to keep it there.

He stopped eating for a second, his body freezing as he did exactly as you asked, grip so firm it’s definitely gonna leave a mark, his cold rings sending shivers through your legs and his fingers dangerously close to your pussy, spreding warmth through your belly. He kept squeezing and massaging, trying to ease your tension.

“… Well, what does your son think about that?” The man suddenly asked and Rafe’s gaze shot up, feeling panic tug at his nerves.

“Um… sorry, could you repeat it?” He asked, Ward was killing him with his eyes, anger and frustration so evident. And Rafe was cursing himself as well. He was listening the whole time, only allowed himself to get distracted for a few seconds. But Ward didn’t know that. Now it looked like Rafe didn’t know how to be professional at all and like he wasn’t paying attention the whole time. It looked bad for business. He embarassed his father and—

You felt his hand loosing it’s grip on your skin, his fingers running cold and begin to shake. You grabbed his big hand into your own, connecting your fingers with his and running soothing circles over his fingers with your thumb.

He was so glad he had you.

Rafe actually gave a thought-out answer, trying to focus on details and benefits of the deal but the man didn’t pay him much mind anymore.

“Hm,” was all he said.

Ward chuckled. “Don’t bother asking him any more questions.”

Rafe was like a statue in these moments. Unreadable, still, and so cold. But you knew him. You saw the way his eyelids became heavy and his eyes empty.

Fuck Ward Cameron.

Fuck that man. And his stupid brats.

The dinner dragged on, you ate some of the food and Rafe did too, but you could tell he didn’t want to eat at all. You kept holding his hand in your lap under the table. His fingers sometimes brushed against the inner side of your thigh again, but his mind was elsewhere.

Everything escalated so quickly when the kid grabbed a piece of meat off his plate and slapped your arm with it. Rafe fucking snapped.

“Hey, dipshit, quit it!” He yelled at the boy, his protectivness over you blinding him.

“Rafe.” Ward warned but that was the fucking line right there.

“Do some stupid shit one more fucking time to her and I—“

“Rafe!”

“— and I swear I’ll—“

“RAFE!” Ward yellet and slammed the table, standing up. “Leave.”

Rafe looked at him, anger seething from him, he was breathing heavily and standing up too. “Seriously?” He spat and you swore you’ve never heard him talk to Ward this way. So angry, so careless what his father’s gonna think. And it was over you. To protect you. Even now he was standing in front of you, shielding you, protecting you from all this bullshit.

“Leave, Rafe, now!”

“Alright!” He grabbed your wrist, dragging you with him, his grip too rough and sharp. You followed, not even getting the chance to thank them for the food but you honestly didn’t know if you’d even manage to say thank you to Ward ever again for anything.

“Rafe—“

“What?!” He snapped at you as well as he led you out of the gate towards his suv. He realised that he was hurting you immediately after and let go of your wrist. “Fuck, sorry.” He said, much softer.

“‘s okay.” You rubbed your hands together.

“I can’t fucking believe this shit,” Rafe mumbled, still seething, his steps so fast you almost couldn’t keep up now that he let go of you.

You knew better than to try to comfort him in this state. It was so easy for you to offer comfort whenever he was sad, you knew your way around his sadness so well by now. But not his anger. He needed space. He needed to groan angrily and hit his steering wheel a few times and then once he stopped breathing so heavily you reached your hand to his, running your fingers over his knuckles.

“Thank you.”

“What?” He mumbled, mind still a bit hazy.

“For standing up for me like that.” He kept quiet and you weren’t sure if it was okay to joke around already but you added that it was really hot anyway.

He chuckled and you grinned as well, getting through to him.

“Whatever, kid.” He mumbled and started the car.

He was tense the whole ride, and you missed when he joked around with you earlier and kept rubbing the hem of your dress between his fingers. You missed his touch as well.

“Rafey.”

“Hm?”

“Hand?” You tried simply, reaching for his hand, leaving it up to him to decide if he wants to give it to you or not right now. He listened immediately, offering it to you, using his other hand to drive.

You smiled and brought his knuckles to your lips, kissing them gently. “What would I do without you?” You mumbled, and kept kissing his hand softly, you felt him tense up and smirked.

“You always protect me so well. Make me feel safe.” You keep going and you know it’s pulling at his heart. That’s all he ever wanted to do, keep his close ones safe. You keep kissing his index finger until you reach it’s tip, gently sucking on it, and biting down.

“Fuck,” Rafe groans and immediately reacts, inserting his middle finger into your mouth as well, pushing down on your tongue, going deeper and then out, and back in. You keep twirling your tongue around his fingers and biting down gently.

He stops at a red light and takes his fingers out of your mouth, you don’t even really have a chance to say anything, he leans over to you and grabs your necklace and pulls you in as if it were a collar. With so much force you’re surprised it doesn’t snap.

“Think you can fucking do that, huh?” He says in a low voice, kissing you rough, his teeth clashing with yours and his tongue exploring your mouth. He tugs at the necklace, pulling you closer, earning a whimper from you.

He keeps kissing you and biting your lower lip until a green light illuminates your face. He pushes you back with force and starts driving again. His hand finds your thigh and he shamelessly squeezes it, making yet another sound escape your lips.

He smirked and ran his middle finger over your already coated panties, rubbing you over the fabric, only making it more and more soaked. “Desperate much?” He mumbled.

You gave a quick nod and rocked your hips against his fingers, wanting more, needing more. “Shit, alright baby, here,” he pulled your panties to the side and brought his fingers to your mouth again.

“Get ‘em nice and wet for me, would you?”

You immediately obliged, taking his fingers in, moaning when he moved them in and out a few times again. Rafe collected your saliva and brought them to your aching pussy, revealed to the night air.

“Words, princess,” he mumbled and kept teasing you with light touches.

“Fuck, Rafe please,” you arched your back, trying to reach his hand with your hips again.

“Words.”

“Fuck me with your fingers, please.”

“Atta girl,” he almost moaned himself, inserting his middle finger in, stretching you out good for him, feeling the slick around him, he pumped in and out of you a few times before adding another finger, making you moan and grip his wrist, making sure his hand would stay there and using it to support yourself as you moved your hips against his hand a few times, desperate.

He ran into another red light and the second the car stopped his lips were swallowing your again, his now free hand gripping your hair, pulling your head back with force, revealing your pretty, pretty neck to him. His long fingers pumped in and out of you quickly, his rings sending cold shivers through your entire body and his teeth now marking your neck, leaving purple bruises.

“Fucking love you, y’know that?” He mumbled and you whimpered a quick mhm, leaving a wet pool on his seats. Rafe groaned when a car honked at him and he had to drive again. He stopped moving his fingers and you desperately moved your hips but he almost pulled them out.

“Nuh-uh, baby. Only on red lights, alright? Be good.”

“No, Rafe, please,” you whined and he pulled his fingers out of you, suddenly leaving you feeling empty.

“What was that?”

“Nothin’,” you mumbled. He smiled and inserted them back into you, but didn’t move. “Good baby. Such a good baby for me, hm?”

“Y-yeah,” you whined, the urge to move against him too strong. He knew that. He felt bad for you so he rubbed his thumb over your clit. Real slow, making you even more desperate.

You saw a red light and your eyes sparkled with excitement but it flashed green right before he stopped the car.

“Fuck,” you whispered and Rafe laughed and fucked you with his fingers for a bit, feeling bad for you. But then he stopped again.

“Rafey I can’t—“

“Shhhh,” he cooed, rubbing your clit with his thumb gently, “you can.”

You kept whining and begging but he didn’t give in until a red light. Finally. You were the one to pull him in this time, biting his lip and kissing him roughly, mixing your salivas and rocking your hips so desperately against his hand. He groaned against your lips, having you so worked up sending shivers through his own body.

“Fuck, like that?” He asked between the messy kisses, hitting a spot he knew all too well, and you closed your eyes and breathed weakly, nodding.

“Words or I’ll stop, princess.”

“Yeah, right there. Shit, fuck— right there Rafey,”

He sped up his movements, fingering you so fast and so deep and so good. A green light illuminated your fucked out face but he didn’t care. There were no other cars on the road and so he just didn’t go.

“Rafey—“ you arched your back, covering his fingers in slick, his rubbing on your clit sending vibrations of pleasure through you.

“Mhm? Gon’ cum for me, princess?” His voice was hoarse, rough, he was breathing just as heavily as you, kissing and biting your neck.

Finally a wave of pleasure ran through you as you reached your climax, shaking from how good it felt. A green light illuminated you again and he wished he could just stay there and stare at you, admire you. But this time he had to go, so he used his free hand to drive again, fingers still inside you until you stopped shaking and throbbing around him.

“There you go,” he chuckled, collecting some of the slick you left on his seat, “made such a mess,” he mumbled and brought his fingers to your lips again. You obediently opened up, licking and sucking and tasting yourself off him so lazily all of a sudden.

“Can’t even clean after yourself, baby,” he scolded you but in reality he didn’t mind at all, collecting the rest and sucking it off his fingers himself, getting drunk from the taste of you.

He kept his hand on your knee for the rest of the ride, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb, knowing you felt sore. You were falling asleep, eyelids heavy and mind foggy. You didn’t even notice it when the car stopped. Rafe got out of the car and walked over to your side.

“C’me here,” he mumbled and picked you up, carrying you, “let’s get you to bed, alright?” He whispered and you mumbled a quiet mhm, clinging to him.

At this point he forgot about the disaster at the dinner, his mind focusing on you only.

[sunooisms]

captain's quarters, monkey d. luffy x reader 𐙚 likes, comments, and reposts are so appreciated !! requests are encouraged !! i’m looking for friends and regulars !! this is my first time writing in a few months, please consider this a warm up

𐙚 summary : Luffy's filter, or lack thereof, often times got him into trouble, even for simple things, like his obvious favoritism. (Spoiler alert: you're his favorite.) However, this time, it was quite beneficial.

𐙚 warnings: SMUT !! goofy first time, cutely awkward, no piv YET, masturbation, silly luffy rambles, possible bad/messy writing it’s been forever, kind of too long?? idk

def not proofread it’s like wayyy to late for that

Luffy wasn’t “sexy” by any means. He was very attractive and had a bright personality, but he was such an idiot. He was always goofing off or sneaking a snack when the crew wasn’t under attack, so you never thought you’d have any thought of having sex with your captain. You doubted he was even aware of sex. It wasn’t something that crossed your mind, at least until last week.

It was an unspoken rule of respect to not enter Luffy’s room. The captain’s quarters were typically private places to wind down and exist outside of being a pirate. However, being the thoughtful person you were, you decided to do Luffy’s laundry for him. In reality, you were hoping to catch a little glimpse into his mind. Curiosity had taken over, and you just wanted a tiny peek, just an idea of what his room looked like. Was it clean or messy? Was it decorated? Simple questions that had plagued your mind.

Luffy seemed to plague your mind quite a bit these days. A simple memory of him made you smile and you found yourself wondering how his day was going if you stayed in the girl’s dorms for a longer period of time than usual. There was no doubt that you were the captain’s favorite, and you wondered if that is what originally swayed you. After thinking on it over night, you decided it was just his big heart and his pretty smile that drew you in.

That’s how your curiosities came about. That’s why you were stood outside of Luffy’s door all those days ago, shocked to hear that he had beat you there. You were expecting the room to be temporarily abandoned, especially since Luffy never stayed in one place. He was in there, though, and it was obvious. While muffled, you could clearly hear his grunts and whines, and you nearly froze in place. You weren’t stupid; you knew what he was doing. You were simply shocked. You weren’t sure if you were more caught off guard or more surprised that Luffy even knew how to jack off. He always seemed so oblivious about everything.

Time passed, and the sounds he made creeped into your mind more and more. You hadn’t spoken to him much since. You left the laundry basket outside his door and had simply retreated. You weren’t purposefully avoiding him. You just felt so flustered every time you saw him, now. He had definitely noticed this and began to make an effort to figure out what was bothering you.

“Are you mad at me,” he would ask, following you around the Sunny as you kept yourself busy. You would simply smile and shake your head. “No, of course not.” He gave up on that after a while, instead trying to think back on every small detail from the past few days. He wasn’t much of a thinker, though. It got frustrating quickly.

He finally made the connection when he remembered finding the laundry basket outside of his room after he came all over his stomach. It was an aha moment for him, and he quickly rushed to find you, despite the clock reading 2:54 am. “Y/n,” he whispered, standing at the entrance of the girl’s dorm. He moved closer to you, gently tapping you on the shoulder in attempt to wake you.

When you finally open your eyes, eyes fluttering in confusion and eyebrows drawn together, he tugs on your arm. “I know why you’ve been avoiding me,” he whispers, pulling you out of bed. You felt your stomach churn, and, suddenly, you were very awake. You let him pull you up onto the deck, using your free hand to rub your eyes. “You do,” you question in a hushed expression of surprise. How did he figure it out?

“Yeah! You’re upset that I don’t let you in my room,” he answers, pulling you towards his room. What…? “I saw the laundry you left outside of my door, and I realized that you never go inside. So I’m taking you to my room, so you can see inside,” he goes on, looking back at you with a sleepy grin.

“Luffy, no, that’s not it. It’s okay,” you tell, but he was already pushing his door open, urging you to step inside. Taking the opportunity to look around, you purse your lips. It was very… Luffy. Clean, but not organized. There wasn’t anything on his floors, but his bed was unmade and miscellaneous trinkets were scattered across his desk. “Then what is it?” He questions, dropping down onto his bed, the springs rattling.

“I don’t think it’s something… we should talk about.” He tilts his head before flopping backwards, peeling off his socks. “You can talk to me about anything. I like to know what you’re thinking,” Luffy assured you, stretching out on the big mattress. You let out a little huff, playing with a little ceramic shrimp that was sitting on the edge of his bedside table. “It was something I wasn’t supposed to know, anyways. Hear, not know,” you explain, looking down at him.

You sensed his dusty cogs spinning, spiderwebs snapping as he analyzed your words. “It was during the day, right? You probably heard me jerking off,” he says simply, sitting up now. “Is that what’s bothering you? Are you jealous? I wasn’t thinking about other girls or anything. I was thinking about you.”

You had no idea how he could say that with such a straight face. It was difficult for you to even process his words. How did this idiot’s brain even work? “Okay, yes… that is what had been on my mind, but I really didn’t mean to avoid you over it. And, no, I wasn’t jealous, I was just… it was difficult for me to not think about you in that kind of way after hearing that,” you ramble on, nerves getting to you now.

“I thought that we liked each other, so, thought you’d be jealous,” he explains, scratching his head while slowly kicking his feet. It was too early in the morning for… whatever this was. “Do we? Do you like me?” You ask, trying to form a cohesive thought. Luffy was making it difficult. “I really like you. I thought you knew that,” he giggles, laying back again. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

Did he not feel awkward at all? Maybe it was just you . You were putting too much thought into it. “Then I guess we do like each other,” you finally sigh. It felt better for it to be out in the open than kept tucked away, anyways. “Do you wanna know what I was thinking about?” Luffy asks softly, filling the silence. You lie down next to him, raising a brow. “When I was getting off,” he clarifies.

Would it be weird to say yes? “Sure,” you mumble, eyes locked on the grey-ish ceiling that was clearly worn down. “I was thinking about you doing it for me. ‘Cus I think I’d rather you do it, than me,” he tells. You got that feeling in your stomach again, a burning fire that demanded attention. “Do you want to?” He follows up, clearly not satisfied with your silence. “Right now,” you ask, completely surprised.

“Yeah. Unless you don’t wanna go so fast. Then you don’t have to,” he tells, propping his head up so he could look at you better. Your heart was way too quick and your thighs were reacting before your brain could. The subtle press of them didn’t fly over Luffy’s head. Sanji had told him way too much about women. “If you want to,” you nod, throat feeling dry. Luffy looks straight into your eyes. You never knew what he was thinking. “I want you to want to. Don’t do it just for me,” he says firmly.

“I want to,” you tell him. “I do.” He stares a little longer, finally scooting closer. Putting a hand on the side of your face, he pressed a small kiss to your nose. After a moment of hesitation, he moved on to your lips. It was clear that he was inexperienced; the kiss was all over the place, and lasted a little bit too long for what it was, but you didn’t mind. Your head was spinning, anyways. For whatever reason, Luffy begins to giggle again. “What?” You pull back, unable to keep yourself from joining in on his laughter.

“I’m just happy,” he tells you, kissing your cheek. “I like kissing you.” It isn’t long before you feel him beginning to gently rub himself against your leg. After a few more kisses, he reaches down, unbuttoning his shorts. You don’t know why you were surprised to see him drop his pants so casually. “I don’t know if I can wait any longer.” He always was impatient. It didn’t bother you, though. You were more caught up in the moment. Nervous, aroused, and caught up in anticipation.

“Look. You do it like this,” he instructs, taking your hand and rubbing it against his hardened cock. “I know. I just… I’m nervous,” you explain. You had been trying not to look. You wanted to look, you just couldn’t. “Then you don’t have to. We can stop,” he hums, pulling his hand away from yours. “I want to keep going.” You finally muster up the confidence to look down, gently moving your hand up and down his shaft, that was beginning to leak just because you were so pretty.

Luffy lets out a little breath, putting his hand back on yours. “Squeeze it.” He looks up, remembering his manners. “Please.” A word as simple as please fed the flames in your stomach, and you were quick to really go for it this time. You gently rub a small circle around his tip with your index finger, spreading the precum that was dripping down his balls now. Luffy grabs your wrist, letting out a breathy moan. You continue on, lightly running your fingers over the spot right under the head, his cock immediately twitching. “Feels good,” Luffy mumbles, putting a hand on your knee.

“You like this,” you ask, rubbing the tip again, and he nods, but moves your hand to his shaft. “Like it, but ‘s too much. Right here, rub here.” His face had grown pink, and he couldn’t seem to hold back a smile. “You’re doing really good. So good,” Luffy assures, pulling the sleeves to your sweater up to your elbows. He thought of the little things like that, even if he wasn’t one for thinking.

Dragging your hand up and down his throbbing dick, you realized how intimate the moment felt. There was no longer this odd pressure in your chest or a dark fog surround your brain. Your nerves subsided and you felt heat rising in your own body. You were snapped back into reality when you found the perfect amount of pressure and the right speed. Luffy began to grunt with each agonizing pump. “I’m ‘bout to cum. I can do it if you want. It’s messy,” he tells, looking up at the ceiling.

“‘S okay. I don’t mind a mess,” you mumble, twisting your hand at the tip and using your free hand to carefully squeeze his balls, seeing what worked and what didn’t. Finally, you could see his stomach tense, Luffy letting out a heavy groan as the built up tension finally released in an explosion. “Thank you, pretty, shit, shit, shit,” he mumbles. “Keep going a little,” he requests, putting his hand over yours so you could help him ride out his high.

After it’s all over, he cleans up, meeting you back at his door. He wraps you up in his arms, swaying side to side. “It feels better when it’s you. Tomorrow I’ll do something for you, ‘kay?” He whispers, stepping outside with you. “‘Kay,” you grin, pulling away from his hug.

What the fuck just happened?

.

this was lowkey butt

ITS OKAY THOUGH ILL DO WAYYYY BETTER WHEN IM NOT SO TIRED AND HAVE A GOOD IDEA

[angstyhikka]

A little late but i made itt! Happy passed Holidays!^^

I think its pretty much first time I drew all of them together. These are happy times when illusion of a happy family wasn’t yet broke for Hunter.

Really feel a lot of stuff for this artwork, I made it for a Christmas special @lasymit wrote in “Where the axe is buried”. Its a big sweet 19 word page chapter with a lot of preparing to a royala bal and Caleb running away from his duties to meet a holiday with common people of the Bonesborrow! Hunter found him in a local bar, tried to convince him to get bak to work but Caleb somehow incomprehensibly lured Hunter to the holiday too. And so Philip was one who had to bring both of them back to CastleXD

And what I drew was in the end, almost in the morning after the bal. They decided to go to a far river on a Knee mountain together. It was one of Hunters happiest memories uwu

You can read it here tho its in russian and we won’t be able to translate it soon :,,

[brattyspence]

hellllllllooooo! i've had this idea for awhile and nobody else has done it when i've requested it ? pretty much spencer is super old fashioned (as everyone has seen in the show) but he kinda takes it to the next level by making a sex tape with reader on a video camera because he doesn't wanna use his phone!! and it could start off with spencer taking pictures of reader on a polaroid camera because she's wearing pretty lingerie and he wants to capture the moment :)) have a great day !!

take a picture, it'll last longer | s.reid

summary: spencer is welcomed home from a case by reader's new lingerie set, and he decides to take a picture to capture the memory.. tags: suggestive fluff, reader wears lingerie, uhhhhhh. taking nudes. not beta read a/n: hi anon sorry this took 12 years to publish and also sorry that it sucks and only hits part of your request. i'm not ready to write actual smut again idt but were getting there. love u and thank u for requesting! word count: 700+ masterlist

You were only half listening to his ramblings as you stepped backwards into the doorway of the bedroom. 

“You wouldn't-” kiss “believe how-” kiss “rare this-” kiss “kind of case is,” he rambled. His fingertips pressed against your hips, guiding you backwards. With a final step, you felt the back of your knees brush the bed, and with practiced ease, you found yourself suddenly hoisted up, falling back against the comforter. 

“Mhm,” you mumbled. He swiftly kicked off his shoes, and then removed with watch with a single motion, tossing it somewhere on the nightstand. You felt the bed dip underneath you as he climbed over you, his nose brushing yours to encourage you to tilt your head back.

“And it was truly-” kiss “a complete improbability that-” kiss “we caught him when we did.”

You were growing impatient with his ramblings. Spencer had been away for four days, somewhere in rural Ohio, and you'd had ample time to clean the apartment, wash the bedsheets, shop for a new matching set, and then finish the day with the longest shower you'd had in recent memory. You were scrubbed and lotioned and done up just for him, and he was taking his time.

“Yeah?” You replied, linking your arms over his shoulders. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, this time trailing his kisses down your jaw and along the side of your neck. “Because statistically-”

“Spence,” you whined. “Come on.”

“I'm getting there,” he chuckled. He let his fingertips trail up and down your thighs for a moment. 

“Taking too long,” you huffed. 

“And when-” kiss “have I ever not made that worth your while?”

“But there's a surprise,” you huffed. You looked up at him, a hint of a pout on your lips, which was only met with another soft chuckle. 

His fingertips trailed further up your side this time, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake, stopping when they met the lace edge of your bra. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly in acknowledgment. The palms of his hands warmed your skin.

“This surprise?”

You nodded emphatically, pulling your lower lip between your teeth as he thumbed over the fabric for another moment, his eyes still locked on you in thought.

In an instant, he drew your shirt over your head, letting the fabric fall to the floor somewhere. His hands settled back into their spot against your hips, his touch still warm and possessive. 

“You don't want to see the bottoms?” You asked.

After a moment, his fingers looped around your waistband, gently tugging away the fabric of your shorts and again discarding them somewhere to the abyss that was the bedroom floor. He watched you carefully, studying eyes working to remember every detail as he always did. 

“I don’t want you to take them off,” he said, lazily looping his fingers into yours.

“That’s no fun,” you smiled. “The whole point was that you would take them off. 

“Yeah, but… you look so pretty like this,” he replied. He looked away for a split second, and you saw a hint of mischief in his gaze. It was a rare sight for him. 

“What’re you thinking?” You asked, tugging his hand. 

He leaned over you one more time, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before stepping away. 

“I had an idea.”

You watched him make his way across the bedroom, where he quickly sifted through a drawer. He returned a moment later, instant camera in one hand, quickly configuring the device as he stood at the foot of the bed.

It was a gift, one he’d accepted reluctantly. You’d insisted that he needed something to capture moments with, especially if he would continue to refuse a smartphone. He had always insisted it was useless to him; an eidetic memory could work just the same. 

“That was not why I bought you that,” you giggled, propping yourself up on your elbows. 

“So?” he replied. “Lie back down.”

You huffed, falling back into the comforter. You tossed an arm over your face as he raised the device, angling it towards you, quickly snapping the picture. 

“You're ridiculous.” You giggled. “I thought you didn’t need a camera.”

You listened as the camera dispensed the picture, which he quickly put away for safe keeping.

“No one needs anything. I’m not allowed to take pictures of my beautiful girlfriend?”

“You can do whatever you want,” you smiled, watching him climb up onto the bed. You took his face in your hands as he hovered over you. “I just want you to admit that I was right.”

“You were right,” he sighed. “But you know what they say. Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

[hotchnersangel]

SPORTS CAR

Aaron Hotchner.

a/n: obsesseddddd w this song and Hotch recently soooo… first upload pls don’t judge me ok ily

warnings: allusions to sex, age-gap, richhhh hotch (yummy), idrk what else just enjoy.

Seeing the bau in casual clothing felt foreign, it was such an odd feeling to see the professionals you spend majority of your hours in the day with less professional and more… humane. More so with Aaron Hotchner, the teams unit chief. Goddamn was he a vision in his suits, but my god, you never knew how much you needed to see him in jeans.

The bau had planned a day out together, to create some time and memories not involving horrific crimes. They arranged to meet at Rossi’s mansion and so thats where you were, gathered outside chatting to Em and Rossi when a sleek all black sports car rolls into his driveway, you eye it skeptically, expecting Morgan to appear but when it stops and you see who gets out, you freeze.

Aaron Hotchner, in jeans, like you were, strolling up to the group of you. Rossi and Emily whistling as he neared, pressing the lock button without even looking. The breath was knocked out of your chest, damn that was hot. His sunglasses perched perfectly on his face.

“Damn Hotch, sweet ride.” Emily praises, gawking at the car.

“Thank you,” he says courteously, nodding at her.

“I think i need some of this pay check you’re getting,” you joke, smirking at him. He looks so very rich right now.

“We don’t have a large difference, darling.” He shoots nonchalantly, crossing his arms as he stands opposite you.

“Honey,” you shoot back giving him a look, “I certainly don’t have the disposable income for this baby.” You admire the car.

“I can give you a ride later if you’d like,” he shrugs casually, “I’ll drop you home.”

You agree, no way are you declining a ride involving Hotch.

After a lovely evening spent with the team, you were content and happy with the outcome of your day. Though you couldn’t stop thinking about Hotch, every time he spoke, everytime he laughed, when he smiled you had to squeeze your thighs together subtly. The evening drew to a close and Aaron continued his offer to give you a lift home.

You walk out of Rossi’s mansion and follow Hotch to his car. He opens the door for you. “After you, ma’am.”

You bite your lip as you get in, looking around at the luxurious interior which somehow even felt humble despite this car being worth more than your apartment probably. “I feel extra luxurious today. A mansion, a sports car, i could get used to this.”

He smirks as he gets in, turning the engine on. “The FBI has clearly been doing well this year.” He jokes and you huff a laughter.

“I never thought you were the type for a sports car,” you say, looking over at him. He looks back.

“How come?” He implies, his hand on the gears, making you salivate a bit more than usual. “Hm?”

“You just- you’re so rich and you never show it.” You shrug, looking how dangerously close his hand is to your thigh.

He laughs, genuinely laughs. “It was my dream car as a kid, I thought if i could buy at least one thing for selfish reasons- it can be this.”

“Damn right, it’s hot.” You say boldly.

“The car? Or me?” He smirks and catches your eye again as he pulls into a drive through. “See, I’m keeping humble.”

“You.” You breathe out and look as he enters the drive through.

“What do you want, pretty lady?” He asks you with a smirk.

You order your meals and sit in the parking lot, an isolated lot but he still parks in the shadows. You sit and eat your meals, occasionally looking over at Hotch who keeps stealing dips from your sauce. One time however, he spills it on the seat of your chair.

“Fuck, Hotch.” You panic, getting ready to apologise.

“No worries, I’ll get it cleaned.” He says calmly, counteracting your panic.

“But-“

“It’s literally my mess, sweetheart.” He gives you a pointed look and smirks.

“Well, now i have to sit in the sauce.” You shoot sassily and he smirks.

“There’s hardly anything on it.”

“Yeah there is,” you point at it and shift in your seat. “Guess we will have to share one seat.” You smirk at him, his eyes darkening.

“We can share one seat, honey.” He moves his food out of the way, patting his lap. You smirk as you climb over the centre console and straddle his waist, resting all your weight on your knees. His hands grip your waist and slowly make their way to your face, sensually dragging over your sides. Your knees go weak, losing all composure which makes you drop onto his lap. Your core touching his. At this, you both let out a sigh.

“Fuck.” You sigh, moving your hands to his chest. “Cute jeans by the way.” You smirk at him.

“Thank you.” He nods curtly, pulling you closer.

You arch your back until you’re close to his ear. “Take mine off me.”

You pull back, biting your lip. His eyes widen with surprise at your boldness, but soon fade into a large smirk as his hands move into your hair. “You want this?”

You nod desperately, not meaning to come across so needy. “For a while.”

“Me too, baby.” He says pulling you closer to him and brushing his lips against yours. The kiss started soft and emotionally connected but soon turned passionate. His hands move over your spine and then back into your hair, pulling it into a ponytail then tugging at it. This action made you gasp into the kiss where he then let his tongue slip into your mouth.

You both pull away for some air and he looks up at you, “you wanna do this here?”

You bite your lip and nod. “I don’t care, in the alley, in the back- in the center of a room, with all of these windows rolled down.”

He looks up at you, pecking your lips. “And which would you prefer, darling?”

“Boy, don’t make me choose.” You retort, giving him a look and he pulls you closer by your top.

“I’m far from a boy darling,” he looks into your eyes.

“Show me then.” You retort.

He pulls you back into a kiss, his hands falling down your back, groping at the skin until they fall on the lower side and push you forwards, his hands resting on your behind, occasionally groping at the skin. You let out a small moan into the kiss and he stops.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” He mumbles but doesn’t move.

“Have you got a girlfriend or something?” You shoot back, concerned to his answer at the positioning of you over his hardened crotch and the tight grip he has on your ass.

“No.”

“So you ain’t got no Mrs? What is holding you back then?” You ask, whispering in his ear again and placing a kiss on his neck. He sighs at the feeling.

“I’m your boss.” He says and you kiss his neck again.

“Mhm,” you hum into his skin and you gently suck at the skin.

“I’m almost double your age.” He states, and you don’t pull back but more desperately lapse your tongue on the skin.

“Carry on…”

“It’s inappropriate.”

“I sure hope it is.” You giggle against his side earning a stifled laugh.

“I’m serious. I think you just think you want this, but you won’t actually.” He says seriously.

“Yet your hand is still groping my arse.” You say looking at him. “I think you wanna…” you trail off and roll your hips over his, grinding against his clothed erection.

You both let out a strangled moan, realising how much you are in need of this.

“Unless… you wanna do it on your own while you’re looking at me.” You look up at him innocently and flutter your eyelashes.

You’re cut off by Aaron’s hands desperately pulling you closer and certainly there was a few rounds in this ride for you both.

————————

[iydiamartinx]

SOMETHING BENEATH THE DARK II

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader

divider by: @cafekitsune & @iydiamartinx word count: 2.5k synopsis: After a brutal fight leaves Nightwing broken and sinking beneath Gotham’s black waters, something finds him as he drowns. warning: graphic depictions of violence

It had been weeks since the storm. Since the harbour. Since he was rescued by a creature in the water.

Dick had healed—at least physically. The bruises faded. The ribs stopped aching. The limp from the thigh wound vanished somewhere between rehab and stubbornness. But the memory of your face never did.

You had been real. He could still feel the chill of your hand on his face. Still see the way your sea-glass eyes drank him in with utter awe and curiosity. The same way he had felt when he gazed upon you. 

But no one believed him.

Tim had tried to humour him at first, pulling up satellite footage from that night, checking thermal scans, even dragging a drone out to the harbour with sonar. Nothing. No strange shapes in the water. No heat signature. Not even a scale.

“Gotham’s harbour is basically radioactive sludge,” Tim had said with a dry snort. “If there was a mermaid, she’d have at least three eyes and probably looked more like a swamp monster than a pretty woman like you’re describing.”

Bruce hadn’t said much—but the downward tilt of his lips told Dick, his adoptive father was also having a hard time believing his story and was on the same page as the others who were chalking it up to blood loss. Oxygen deprivation. A hallucination brought on by drowning and the concussion he sustained.

Dick could hear them whispering behind closed doors. Worrying that perhaps the injuries he sustained were more severe than they thought. Wondering if maybe he still wasn’t as recovered as he looked.

But he knew what he saw.

And he wasn’t letting it go.

So that night, when the clock struck one and the manor fell quiet, he left under the guise of patrol. He followed memory more than instinct, back to the place it all happened.

The harbour was quiet, the only sounds being the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. His gaze dropped to the rocky edge, to the faint speckles of rusted red staining the stone—almost gone now, fading with time and tide. That was where his brothers had found him. Broken. Barely breathing. Alone.

But he hadn’t been alone.

He stood at the edge for a long time. Eyes fixed on the water. Hoping to catch a glimpse of silver beneath the surface, a shimmer in the dark. But there was nothing. Only the endless stretch of darkness. 

“I know you’re out there,” he said softly.

Silence.

He crouched, letting his fingers drag through the water. “You saved me. I wasn’t hallucinating. I saw you. I felt you. Everyone thinks I made it up, but I didn’t. I remember your eyes.”

Nothing.

Minutes passed. Then more.

The wind picked up. A gull cried overhead. The chill sank deeper into his bones.

He finally let out a sigh. Maybe they were right. Maybe it had just been a dream.

He straightened up, brushing off his hands, only to suddenly freeze when a small, barely there ripple disturbed the gentle water.

Then another. Larger. It looked to be getting closer

Just past the rocks, where the water dipped darker, something moved. A shape. A shadow. A head—barely above the surface. Hair like oil. Eyes glinting in the dark.

His breath caught.

She was there.

His siren.

Exactly as he remembered her—silent, watching, half-submerged in the same waters that nearly stole his life.

His body moved before his mind caught up. He stepped into the surf, boots sinking into wet sand as waves lapped higher—up to his knees, then thighs.

“It’s you,” he whispered, chest tight with relief, wonder, something dangerously close to hope. “I knew you were real.”

He hadn’t even realized how deep he waded into the water until the cold water was up to his chest. His breath hitched as he watched her move closer too.

Slowly, fluidly, she drew closer—her form rising from the depths with effortless grace, propelled by the slow, deliberate sweep of her tail. The silver glint of scales caught the moonlight as she surfaced higher, until they were nearly chest to chest, with only the waves between them.

She was just as he remembered.

Not fully human—if at all but no less hauntingly beautiful.

Her dark hair floated around her shoulders where part of her was still submerged, weightless and wild, and her eyes—those eyes—still glowed with that spectral, sea-glass green. Watching him not with suspicion or fear, but with wonder. Like he was the strange one.

Her head tilted, just slightly, the gesture feline in its curiosity.

Then—slowly, as though testing both his courage and her own—her hand rose, webbed and tipped with sharpened claws.

She pressed her palm lightly to his chest, just over his heart. The tips of her claws didn’t dig in, but they rested close enough to remind him of what she was. What she could do if she decided.

His gaze dropped, drawn to the place where her hand met his chest—small and reverent, webbed fingers splayed over the damp fabric of his suit. Unbeknownst to him, she was listening. Measuring. Reading the rhythm of his pulse like it was language. The thrum of life beneath his skin was steadier now than when she’d found him broken. He’d recovered well—for such a fragile thing.

His eyes continued to drift lower. Scales, shimmering and iridescent, traced the gentle curve of her chest, wrapping along her hips and trailing downwards into the darkness. He could barely make out the powerful tail beneath the water—coiled and tense, a gleaming shadow beneath the surface. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he whispered, voice hoarse and low in his throat.

Her eyes met his once more, sea-glass cool and unblinking. What a strange creature he was—to seek her out. If it had been any other of her kind to have found him, he’d already be sinking to the bottom of the harbour, lungs full of salt, flesh being ripped from his bones.

Her hand moved again—curious, unhurried. It drifted up from the strange armour clinging to his chest and continued upward, finally brushing against skin. He was warm. So warm. Her own blood ran cold as the depths she called home, but this… this was something else. His heat soaked into her fingers, into her bones. Touching him reminded her of the heat of the sun, not something she had much of a luxury to indulge.

Dick hadn’t even realized he was leaning in until his breath mingled with hers, their lips a whisper apart. Her gaze didn’t drop, didn’t shy away. She just watched him, those eyes a mirror of still water and something deeper stirring below.

And then—everything changed.

A ripple.

Barely there.

Her pupils contracted, eyes narrowing in a sharp snap of instinct. She whipped around before Dick could even blink, her body cutting through the water with a flash of tension. A low, feral hiss escaped her throat—more beast than human—as she moved protectively in front of him, the tips of her claws flexing just beneath the surface.

For a moment, Dick thought it was him. That he’d misread everything. That maybe he’d gone too far—that the almost-kiss had been a mistake or that he’d somehow offended her. But then he saw it.

Another ripple.

Something else was moving through the water—closer now, moving just beneath the surface and drawing near like something was swimming closer. Until a head emerged.

At first glance, this new comer looked like you. The same sleek tail. The same hair, dark and slick, trailing like kelp in the current. But the resemblance faded quickly the longer he looked.

This one was wrong.

Her features were sharper, more inhuman. Eyes too wide, eyes pitched black. A nose too small that was almost like slits. Her teeth, when she smiled, it wasn’t just her canines that were sharp, long and needle-thin—made for tearing. Her skin bore that same silvery sheen—but mottled, tinged with green like algae clinging to bone.

“You found food,” the creature hissed, voice low and serpentine. “Humans are such a delicacy these days.”

A chill sliced through Dick’s spine.

You let out another warning hiss. “He’s mine.” You snarl, barring those sharp canines in warning. 

Your hand slid back, just enough to brush against his abdomen, nudging him subtly toward the shore.

Go.

His human body wasn’t made for the water—not like yours was. The siren before him—this twisted reflection of you—could reach him in seconds. Could drag him under, tear him to pieces before he ever broke the surface.

He wouldn’t stand a chance.

With another more insistent nudge to his abdomen, you told him again.

Go.

Yet, for some reason Dick couldn’t get his body to move. He almost felt as if he was entranced.

Your voice was silvery and melodic—eerie, yes, but strangely beautiful. It stood in stark contrast to the creature before him, whose every word dripped like venom. Her voice was all hiss, almost like nails scraping against a chalkboard. Whereas yours was fluid, almost gentle in comparison... more human.

The second siren tilted her head, eyes narrowing like a shark circling wounded prey. Her grin was wide and cold, but it never touched her eyes.

“Oh?” she cooed, oily and amused, mockery curling at the edges. “Since when do we claim them? I didn’t realize you were keeping pets.”

Her gaze flicked to Dick, then back to you.

“You’re not even feeding on him, are you?” she purred, drifting closer with near-perfect stillness. “Strange little thing. You’re protecting him.”

Then she inhaled, slow and deep. The faint outline of her pupils expanded.

“He smells fresh… and familiar,” she murmured. “His blood has tainted these waters before. The clan will be disappointed to know you’ve stolen their meal.”

Dick felt your hand tense against his stomach.

Not from fear.

From control. From restraint.

Because you were on the verge of attacking.

Realization hit him, you had saved him that night. Not just from Killer Croc but from her.

From them.

And now, you were doing it again.

“Weak little halfling,” the other siren spat, voice dipping into a low growl. “We should’ve killed you long ago.”

She bared her jagged teeth in a wicked smile, dark eyes glittering with hate.

“You always were too soft,” she sneered.

And then she lunged.

Water exploded as she propelled forward with terrifying speed. Claws out. Jaws wide.

You met her halfway.

The collision was violent—two bodies crashing together with a snarl and a wave that rocked the sea. The impact sent a shockwave through the surf, and Dick stumbled back, the force knocking him off his feet. Cold water surged over his head as he went under, his breath ripped from him in a single gasp.

When he surfaced, sputtering, the world was chaos.

The water churned around him—frothing and wild, streaked red in places. The air was filled with shrieks and the sharp, wet sound of claws tearing flesh.

He couldn’t see much.

Only flashes.

Scales slicing through moonlight. Limbs twisting. A tail whipping across the surface. Guttural hisses and the unmistakable, stomach-turning rip of something sharp meeting flesh.

You were locked in a brutal tangle—moving too fast, too deep, disappearing and resurfacing in bursts of violence. At one point, you had her head locked in your arm, your fangs poised at her throat. You made the mistake to look to him, where he was still in the water. 

“Go!” you hissed over your shoulder. Dick finally snapped into action, turning and slogging through the water toward the safety of land.

But that glance—that single lapse of attention—was all she needed.

Her claws raked deep across your abdomen—four brutal lines that tore through scale and skin alike. Flesh parted beneath the strike, blood spilling out in thick, black-red waves into cold sea. A pained shriek tore past your lips, the sound not at all human, pain burned through every nerve.

But Dick was almost to shore.

And she saw it.

The attacker released you, slipping from your grip and darting past in a blur of motion—toward his back. Toward the exposed softness that was human skin and slow, breakable limbs.

“No—!” you hissed, breath a ragged snarl of fury and fear.

You moved before the thought finished forming.

Even wounded, you were faster.

You slammed into her from behind just as her hand reached for his ankle. She shrieked, thrashing, but you didn’t let go. Your claws tore into her side. She bit down on your shoulder, but you didn’t stop. Couldn’t. You drove her back into the rocks, again and again, until her grip weakened.

Until you could end it.

Your teeth found her throat and with a brutal jerk of your head, your tore flesh from sinew, cartilage from bone. Her shriek turned into a wet gurgle, her body convulsing once—twice—then falling still.

She sank slowly, the light fading from her eyes.

The water around you bloomed red—both from her blood and yours. It was everywhere. Turning the already dark tide darker with blood.

You hovered there, suspended in the sea, your breath harsh and shallow. Every pulse of your heart bled more into the waters. The pain blurred your vision. The rocks, the surface, even Dick’s silhouette—it all spun.

Dick who had finally reached the shore turned, chest rising and falling, horror written across his face as he saw the state you were in. You could see the desire in him to wade back out into the waters but with all this blood it wasn’t safe for him. You raised a single webbed hand. 

“Stay there,” you rasped.

Somehow, you pulled yourself forward. Clawed your way from the surf, dragging your shredded body onto the shore where he worriedly waited.

Your arms gave out just a few feet away from him, the water gently lapping a your weak form

Blood smeared the rocks beneath you. The gash across your stomach pulsed with every shallow breath, painting the shoreline in vivid red. Dick dropped to his knees beside you, hands immediately pressing to the wound, desperate to stop the bleeding.

“No, no, no—stay with me,” he breathed, voice cracking. “You’re okay. You hear me? You’re okay.”

You blinked up at him, eyes unfocused, lips parting as if to speak but only faint, ragged wheeze was heard. 

His eyes darted to the gills fluttering along your throat.

“Oh shit…”

You couldn’t breathe. Not like this. You needed water—but if he put you back in, you’d bleed out before help ever arrived.

Panic surged in his chest as he fumbled for his comm.

“Nightwing to base—someone get to the harbour now! I need evac, med supplies—something!” he snapped. “She’s—she’s dying.”

You were trembling now, violently. Your tail twitched, curled tight, and then—

It started to change.

Right before his eyes.

The iridescent scales along your hips began to vanish, receding like the tide. Your gills fluttered a final time before sealing shut. The long, powerful tail that had coiled through dark water began to shift—shortening, splitting. Legs emerged, slender and trembling, curling instinctively towards your shivering body. 

Your gasping stopped. But your body kept shaking, blood still leaking between his fingers.

You were human now— or something close enough but you were still dying in his arms.

He didn’t hesitate.

Sliding one arm beneath your knees and another around your back, he lifted you carefully against his chest. Your head lolled weakly against his shoulder, skin cold and clammy.

Determination surged through him. He would save you like you saved him.

← Previous Chapter

[dreamertf]

College Changes You

/includes: jock tf, getting handsomer, getting taller, gay to straight

Danny looked at Chris in shock. They hadn't seen each other in months, but they both had come back to their hometown for Thanksgiving. Since they were both in town, they decided to catch up over dinner.

Only the man in front of Chris wasn't the same 5'5" twiggy computer science major. The man in front of him was at least 6'3" nearly a foot taller than the old danny, and incredibly buff. Danny was never horrible looking to Chris but it was like a hollywood casting agent had replaced him. He was recognizable if you squinted enough, but the sharp jawline and giant brown eyes just drew you in.

"So what have you been up to man?" Danny was the first to break the silence.

"Uh not much, just school yaknow...."

Chris couldn't stop staring at his huge pecs. Not fully being able to make conversation

"How about you?"

"Oh not much! Recently I invented a new device that lets me change the fabric of reality."

Dan said with a smile, casually. His sensual voice singled out in the loud restraunt, it was like it was the only thing that Chris could focus on.

Chris didn't know how to respond, he watched danny pull out a small device that looked much like a normal smartphone. He tapped a few things and put it back in his pocket.

Suddenly he grew a few more inches to 6'10". His aura becoming much more enchanting, like he was the only thing in the universe thay existed.

As the waitress came over, she couldn't help but only look at the muscular adonis and not Chris.

"What can i get started for you guys?" She said, only looking at Danny.

"Actually, i think we changed our mind, we're gonna go somewhere else. Thank you so much for your help, heres a tip."

Danny said as he got up, gesturing for Chris to do the same. Chris hadn't seen him at his full height yet, it was stange to see his once best friend be a full foot taller than his own 5'10"

The waitress couldnt stop blushing as she just nodded and walked away, as chris stood up he realized he was fully erect.

"Haha already gunnin for it huh?" Danny said as he smirked, flexing his pecs.

---

They walked around a nearby park, chris dumbfounded unable to speak by the giant hunk next to him.

"So, i actually came to meet you for a reason."

Danny wanted him? He couldn't believe it. Chris looked up at him, surprised and blushing.

They both stopped walking as danny held chris' hands.

"I want you to serve me, Chris."

Suddenly, the ground dropped from underneath him as he buckled into himself, pure bliss and euphoria came over him as he came right there.

His limbs elongated and his shoulder broadened as they filled out with muscle. He moaned as his voice dropped a few octaves.

"I want you to take on the persona of a dumb straight frat bro."

Chris clutched his head as he felt his hands grow bigger, his mind losing memories of being any sort of intellectual. He had gotten by with his looks and athletic ability alone, and thats all he needed.

He stood up as his package slithered down his newly formed sweatpants.

"Now look at me pretty boy."

Danny grabbed him by the jaw as his face reformed into a much more appealing form. His jawline sharpened as his eyes lightened. Cheekbones rising as his face became perfectly symmetrical. Danny whispered in his hear one more time

"We're gonna be a couple, but you will be in denial. Girls dont do it like i do."

Danny gave him a long sloppy kiss as he trailed down his new muscular body, making sure to trace each nipple as he licked his way down his taut muscular defined torso.

Chris moaned as he felt danny start bobbing on his 10 inch member. He had never felt anyone's tongue be so skilled. This was far better than any girl he's ever had sex with.

Danny was pleasuring himself as sucked chris off, his huge 18 inch python calling for Chris' hole.

As chris came over and over again he looked down at his bro. Covered in cum.

"Now its your turn to serve me, turn around."

Chris fell into the grass. Pulling down his sweats, his muscular ass straight up in the air, pulsating as it felt it's master so close to it.

Danny felt his slick in his hands as he continued to massage it. He flopped it around a little as he held it by the thick veiny base.

"No homo though though, right?"

"No homo bro"

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[12:22 pm]

Husband!Taeyong’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He sighed, deciding this would be a good time for a break from boxing up everything you both decided you were going to donate. His brows furrows seeing your name on his screen. Weren’t you in the house with him? Why wouldn’t you just come tell him instead of texting him? ‘You’re not going to believe what I just found!’ He read with a smile.

He heard your hurried steps on the hardwood floor of the hall and soon enough you were standing in the doorway of your shared bedroom with a bright smile and a colorful book in your hands. As you walked closer, Taeyong reached for you grabbing your hips to guide you to stand between his spread thighs. “What did you find, honey?” Taeyong asks, pressing a kiss to your arm.

“My diary! It’s got some entries from our first 2 years together!” You beam.

“Oooh, juicy stuff?” Taeyong asks with a quirked brow.

You clear your throat and crack the journal open, “this is from 5 years ago, ready?” Taeyong nods, but his mind is reeling, you guys didn’t know each other five years ago, what could you have written about him? Your voice interrupts his train of thought, “Today, I went to the cafe with Minho. While Minho and I were waiting for our drinks, the most handsome guy I’ve ever laid eyes on came up and started talking to Minho. I guess they took a class together a while ago. This guy didn’t look at me the whole time, but I think I’m in love. Who would ever believe that I saw a man this handsome in real life and not a magazine? Even though he didn’t look at me, I’m pretty sure I’m going to think about him for the rest of my life. Minho said his name is Taeyong. I’m writing this so I have some happy memory of a handsome guy to return to when I’m sad.”

You look down at your husband, “I guess I was a little dramatic, huh?”

“I don’t even remember that! What else do you have?” Taeyong asks eagerly. He wishes he could go back in time to introduce himself properly, he could have had a whole extra year with you. Ugh!

“This is from four years ago, from that dinner that Minho held. I wrote, oh my literal god! You are never going to believe this! The handsome guy from the cafe was at Minho’s party and he spoke to me! There’s like a whole row of exclamation points here,” both you and Taeyong snort out a laugh before continuing, “his voice was so gentle and his hand was sooooo soft when we shook hands. We made conversation about school and our interests. He told me he likes to make music and make art and I told him I’d love to see his work, talk about thirsty. He had a really cute smile on his face and I swear I saw him blush! He told me he’d like to show me and before the night ended we exchanged numbers. I think there’s a higher possibility of us falling in love now. I hope he’s not actually a creep.”

Taeyong pulls you into his lap as he laughs loudly, “I remember that meeting, thank goodness. I remember that you were really cute and shy. And that Minho can’t cook to save his life. I was really excited to text you after that, but I wanted to be chill.”

“I think I ended up writing that after a week of nothing from you I gave up hope a little. I thought maybe you were like a figment of my imagination or maybe I read into it too much,” you sigh as if you’re reliving the memories while turning through the now warped pages.

For a while, the two of you sit there in comfortable silence reading through your entries. He reads and laughs good-naturedly ay the entry that describes the anxiety before your first date in detail and in drawing. Half the page is a messy scribble of words he can barely read, and the other half is scribbles that he can very well imagine you screaming while you drew. There’s a whole page of scribbles and ‘ahhhhhh’ filling up the whole page after the first date/first kiss which makes him smile softly while pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

He finds himself holding you closer, his arms around your waist tightening as his eyes pore over the words of a three-page long entry that came after your first big fight. You’d tried to skip past this, but he pulled the book out of your hold. ‘Tonight, Taeyong and I got in our first fight and I don’t think my heart has ever hurt this badly. I just don’t understand why he left! All I told him was that I needed some space to think and he took that as me wanting him gone. He just turned on his heel and left! I just wanted like 5 minutes to gather myself! Why would he just leave?’ Taeyong’s thumb sadly runs over the obvious mark of a tear drop.

He remembered this fight, he could remember the reason, but he remembers the aftermath. He remembers all the work that came after so that you two could communicate effectively. He remembers promising to never walk away in the middle of the fight and to never go three days thought talking to you again.

He closes the journal as sets it beside him while pulling you into an embrace, “we’ve made it far haven’t we?”

“Yeah, now I don’t freak out like scared chicken before our dates,” you laugh into his chest.

Taeyong laughs deeply, “I meant our communication, but sure.”

“Taeyong, we’ve been together for like four years, of course we’ve learned to communicate. We’ve learned a lot of things about each other. Each and every thing I learn just makes me love you more.”

He furrows his brows, “you didn’t like it when I bleached my eyebrows.”

“Oh my god, yeah! That wasn’t a good look. I hated that!” You exclaim, standing from his lap to assess the work he’s gotten done. “You’ve done a good job so far,” you nod.

“We’ve done a good job so far,” Taeyong stresses.

“That was cute, but I meant the clothes, honey.”