#“you look at him like you know all the nasty things he wants to do to you

[henneseyhoe]

All In A Day’s Work

Lewis Hamilton x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS:This Headcanon Is Nasty…I Mean Disgusting. Mean!Lewis(No seriously..he’s an asshole till like… the end lmfao), Mentor/Boss!Lewis, Dark!Lewis, Protege!Reader, Insults, Almost A Yandere!Lewis Undertone(I can’t help myself), Lewis Being A Perv, Cockwarming Orally, Spit, Power Imbalance, Dumbification(Kinda?), Pet Names (Baby, Doll, Princess, Slut), Age Gap Unspecified(21+), Public Sex (Kinda), Stalking (Mild), Dirty talk, Gagging, Brief Mention Of Anal, Reader Is Kinda Naive, Probs More Idk.

SUMMARY: They say never meet your idols..

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Mentor/Boss!lewis, who quite literally hated you.

He hated your work. He hated the way you worked. He hated your ideas. He hated the way you dressed too. How could you be in the fashion industry dressing like that, and who the hell did you think you were?

You, who looked up to him. You studied his style and cadence, he was your inspiration that kept you intrigued with art and fashion. There wasn’t a piece you have made that you didn’t imagine him praising you for, clapping from an audience of fellow famous designers as you win an award for pieces you made all by yourself. You dreamed so, so big.

Once a confident art school student who recently graduated turned a quiet, delicate thing in his presence. You needed to be that way. If you made yourself smaller, maybe he wouldn’t seek to bother you like he did daily.

It wasn’t just your liking for him and his work that made it hard to be around him, he made it his mission to make everything 10x more insufferable.

You didn’t even know why he hired you, really. There were rumors that he purposely never hired fans, stating that their inspiration from him would blind them from using their own creativity, and you made it very obvious in your interview that you were nothing short of star struck. But, the job was yours on the spot, approved and stamped by Lewis himself.

Your excitement coursed through your veins, hungry for the ideas and tips he’d give you along the way.

Sadly, you were paid just about what dust was worth. As soon as you began working It seemed you were just there to be his punching bag, something he could take his anger out on when someone, or you, most likely you, pissed him off.

Boss!Lewis, who purposely overworked you, making you type up drafts for his articles just as he came up with it in real time. You wanted desperately to make him proud, so you listened to each syllable of each word, each well calculated, evil, full of venom sentence that could end someone’s career that poured into your ears. You pay attention closely as you type, because he himself remembered everything he said, and if anything was out of place or missing from his rant, then he’d be more than pissed.

“This is all you heard? Have your ears somehow popped off your head and walked out of the building?…You wasted my time, and yours. Get out”

He’d say as he shoved the papers back into your hands, still warm from the printer. Did he even give time to actually check if they were right?

Your palms turned white with how hard you clutched the papers in your hands as you walked out, heels stabbing the marble floor with every step you took. He enjoyed seeing your display of emotion whenever he corrected you. This would toughen you up. Maybe even teach you to do things right next time.

Your ears felt hot with both embarrassment and frustration nearly every time he spoke to you. You thought working for your hero would be fun and empowering, but day by day you were proved wrong. How could someone so humble and kind on screen be so cruel to such a sweet girl like you? You were only trying..

Still, you tried harder to gain his respect by working more than you ever had, sewing till your fingers bled, drawing up new designs for him to see that you were getting better, bringing him sweet treats when you could to get even the smallest of thank yous, but again, he wasn’t too fond of your work, or you.

And god forbid you propose the possibility that maybe he was the one that was wrong, he made the mistake and you just made the mistake of following his every word and direction.

Leaning over his desk, you present to him the digital catalog for this year's spring, items of different kinds of clothing littering your computer screen as you click each one individually until he tells you to move on.

“Stop” Lewis points to a picture to halt your scrolling, your heart skipping a beat as you think, ‘Fuck…now what?’

He tsks.

“This suit is from last summer. I specifically told you last year seasons go into an archive, these are not average pieces people can just buy”

You squint, your eyes glazing the screen. “But I didn’t hear- You didn’t say that at all”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

He turned to you in his office chair and closed your laptop down, his head tilted in question. You couldn’t even look straight into his eyes to answer, it was like you saw all the souls he captured day to day screaming for mercy inside of them.

Before you could even fully get a word out he was already giving you your second warning that day.

“I suggest you watch the way you speak to me”

You did so, limiting your criticism to none. You desperately needed to keep this job, the clout, and the money from it. You knew your ideas were good, you just needed Lewis to see that. You needed a little boost, and Lewis was well aware that you couldn’t afford to lose anything you gained this year, seeing as it took you an entire one to find a company like this to take you seriously, having the honor to work as close as you do with one of Europe’s top designers. One day you hoped to be one just like him.

The company had many young workers, some directly hired by Lewis himself just like you, many with the same plans as you to become some big designer or director in the city. Some are not as hardworking as you, so you wondered why Lewis wasted time bullying you instead.

You complain to your coworkers often, thinking you’ve found some kind of friend, but are quickly corrected when you find out someone’s been snitching about what you’ve been saying about your boss around the office..

Lewis towered over you as you sat in a chair facing his desk, hands fiddling in your lap with your head hanging low in shame. This wasn’t the first time you’ve been embarrassed in this very office, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last.

“If you spent half as much time actually doing what I tell you to do instead of wasting your energy bad mouthing me around the building, maybe you wouldn’t have to be a fucking assistant anymore” He chuckled as he flipped through a catalog of unreleased designs while pacing the floor in front of you. The tapping of his shoes synced with the hard thump of your heart, every ‘clack’ leading a loud ‘lub-dub’ that you swore everyone in the room could hear.

Stopping in his tracks, he sighs and shakes his head, neat braids that framed his face swaying with the movement. He often faked his pity, you learned that early on. He cared none if you were struggling for whatever reason, in his head you either pull yourself up by your bootstraps or sit and suffer.

“If you can’t take the little shit I give you, then how do you expect to get anywhere in life, princess? Pretty faces can only get you so far, especially when you piss off important people before you even become somebody“

You keep your head down, careful to not make the mistake of shrugging at his question like the first time he had ever asked you anything you didn’t know the answer to.

“Wow..And you’re fired”

You look up from your sweating hands, your heart skipping beats when you realize he was talking to the woman behind you.

“What? Me? But-” Her stuttering clearly didn’t help her case as she tried to find the right excuses to keep her position as head director, which would eventually become vacant regardless. Lewis spared her a glare, but it was more of a warning for her to suck it up. He hated seeing people cry.

“No one likes a snitch”

You exited that room that day with a thankfulness not even gospel could pull from you. You kept your job and your spot next to him. Dignity and pride was in question, but at least you weren’t jobless.

The next week, you focused more on yourself. You wore your own designs, hoping to catch some kind of compliments, and you did! Just not from Lewis. It was already known that Lewis hated your style, but you could at least say it wasn’t as bad as his last assistant, whom he told you dressed like, and I quote, he “walked into the closet every morning with his eyes closed and his hands tied behind his back with only his mouth as an option to pick up the items to wear”...

You tried your best to dress to his liking and incorporate his style into your designs while also keeping your signatures. You spent your nights reading magazines he did interviews for to pick up on what he was feeling was in this year, but it wasn’t easy when he was so picky.

“Is that rose gold?”

“Where?.. On my watch?”

Lewis stayed silent, his eyes scanning you fully before he spoke again.

“No, on the floor” He said with sarcasm plaguing his voice, making you raise a brow.

“Take the jewelry off. It looks tarnished”

He nearly swooped you up just then to get something that actually matched your skin tone, but that’d be him just stealing company time for something more..personal.

Boss!Lewis, who soon got tired of your poor attempts at outfits and began to dress you in things he thought were good looking, giving you a box of expensive new outfits at the end of the work day, each labeled for which days you’d wear them. He even invited you over to his for a few “required” trials. Y’know, just to see how good the tailoring was.

And you were ecstatic about it. You, in YOUR idols house, getting adorned in expensive clothing you only dreamed about. It made up for everything he said to you that week to make you upset.

He took you into his very own study and told you what colors look best on you in each season of the year, gave you advice on what jewelry made you glow and the places you should put them depending on the cut of your clothes, he measured your waist, arms, legs, bust, everything, and told you what would go with your body type. Though you wished he could turn the heat up as he did so, you were starting to get a little cold in just your bra and underwear..

“Look at that…it fits you so much better than what you’re usually in”

He’d turn you to a mirror as you tried to lower the mini skirt you wore, attempting to cover more than just the cup of your ass. You could nearly feel a breeze every time he passed you by to get a look from different positions.

Apparently his favorite was from the back.

“You won’t be wearing anything I didn’t put you in from now on. Think of it like a work uniform, since you dress like the world outside is blind. Now, gimme a spin, doll”

Your new look caught the attention of other designers. Some loved the bold look, seeing it as a statement, like how fashion should be these days. They applaud you for testing out the boundaries and limits of a workplace. How professional could you be with your skirt riding up? Others were confused on why your style did an entire 180, and why they could see the valley of your breasts now.

Your answer was simple. Evolution is how the world stays afloat. If you don’t change in time and willingly, the world around you will force you to before you’re ready. Lewis told you that.

Boss!Lewis, who wished he did this so much sooner. His very own life size Barbie he could dress up and down any way he wanted. It was just an extra perk to being able to say anything to you and you still coming into work the next day.

You were beautiful before, he never denied that, all his insults were technically on your intelligence. Nonetheless, he believed he outdid himself with this idea, he could truly see your potential now. Everything you put on brought out your features so much more, it was almost dramatic, and you were starting to truly live up to the nickname he gave you. Now he wanted to know if you were just as flexible as any other doll..

Boss!Lewis, who couldn't get enough of looking at you. It was never an innocent attraction, it was never about wanting to help a protege, this was all for him and him only, the fashion industry be damned. He didn’t care about introducing you to a world of anything as soon as he got half of your clothes off.

The amount of times he was imagining fucking you in front of everybody should have been illegal. He even debated fucking you in his study when he invited you over, watching you drool dumbly with a tiny dress hanging halfway off of your waist. Your very own icon using you for what you were worth. He was already imagining things before, but the daydreams were starting to prohibit him from his duties of CEO.

He had to do something. Fucking his hand in the privacy of his office wasn’t gonna suffice forever.

Boss!Lewis, who went to bed at night thinking of you. Thinking of the ways he could bend you, how many times he could make you cum in one round. When he was with you he pondered on what kind of panties you were wearing. Were they black? Pink, maybe? Did they have a cute little bow on the front like they did when he dressed you? Were they lace and see through? So see through that he could bend you over his desk and spread your ass with his hands to see the pink peeking from behind your brown lips. God, he wanted you so fucking bad from the start.

Boss!Lewis, who started to become irrational. Wondering where you went after work, if you had anyone else to see. God knows what Lewis would do to him, or get done to him. He even followed you sometimes when he couldn’t take the wondering, you were absolutely oblivious to the Ferrari behind you at every stop.

Boss!Lewis, who didn’t need to see where your house was, you worked for him, so of course he had your address, but he needed to see what routes you took. How long would it take you to get there after he snuck into your bottom floor apartment and stole a pair of your underwear after snooping through your things, carefully placing them back where they belonged before snapping a picture or two. Money took him a long way as he bribed the security with a few bills to ensure he wouldn’t speak a word of his visit. Of course the dumb fuck agreed.

You notice your underwear going missing, but you pass it off as just misplacing them in all the other clothes that were being delivered from Lewis.

You also noticed how close Lewis was becoming, but that just made you giddy. Someone you still adored as an artist finally warming up to you.. And as a boss, he had to watch you for reasons, right?

From the time you got to work and clocked in from the time you left, he was watching from his office, glass windows so clear that you could see the condensation from his breath on it as he looked down upon his workers. When you left, his curtains were immediately pulled close.

“He’s just being a boss” “He’s always like that, right?” “Don’t think too much, this is your dream, You’ll ruin your chances with him” Your friends would say when you confided in them about the constant watching, but they didn’t understand that he wasn’t watching everyone, he was watching you. You weren’t sure you understood that he was just watching you either.

Time passed and now he didn’t just watch. He visibly followed. He touched. Brushing a singular finger up your bare arm as you worked aside him, the silver ring on his finger sent shivers straight up your spine and electricity to your core. That jump started a second heartbeat that wouldn’t settle till you walked away from him.

Boss!Lewis, who was unashamed, barely hiding the lingering stares or brushing.

“Sir?”

You’d dare to speak as he pressed himself up against your ass. It wasn’t firm, but just enough for you to feel him. Your hands were unable to move to continue writing up a list of fabrics he needed for later that week. You became aware of everything around you. The ticking of the clock on the wall was loud, the cold wood of his desk pressing on your forearms as you wrote was noticeable.

“Keep going”

He nudged with a hand on your hip as you let out a shaky breath. It was hard to work like this, you could barely believe it was happening where it was, with whom it was.

He thought you sucked at your job before, you could be no better now with him breathing down your neck, grabbing at your curves and using the excuse of just trying to feel the fabric of your clothes.

“Silk?” He asked, his hand growing dangerously close up your thighs from the rim of your dress.

Your breathing hitched, your hand hesitantly swiping his off of your thigh before you nod, trying to distract yourself from the intense staring by grabbing the nearest needle and thread, pretending to touch up a bralette in front of you that was basically already done.

Lewis smiles.

Boss!Lewis, who hadn’t gotten any better with distractions since testing his limits with you for months now. Watching you squirm, anticipating what was next was so much more satisfying than designing these days. But you? You had no room to slack.

He’d call you in his office just to watch you work, then complain about not getting enough done.

Just under your breath, you’d make smart comments to release yourself from some of the stress of the day, unable to hear his complaining for hours without a word for yourself like you used to. You didn’t say it to his face exactly, but he’d be near, his cursing prompting you to speak. You weren’t the girl you were a few months ago, the less he criticized you, the more you expressed yourself outwardly. You knew him, and he was all talk for the most part, you felt you deserved to say at least one thing even if only you knew what was said.

“Maybe if you did your job instead of looking up my skirt all day, damn perv…”

He heard you. He heard everything, remember?

“Perv?”

Perv? No, No, No. Lewis couldn’t let that slide. He wasn’t the one that was being weird, it was you. Sure, he made you dress a certain way, but it was your fault you looked like that. He was not. a fucking. pervert..Fuck.

Boss!Lewis, who made use of your mouth that had started to get smarter and bolder towards him the longer you worked for him. He kept you on your knees, under his desk with his dick stuffed in your mouth. Your jaw ached, and every time you made it known, he’d shove you down further, more spit trailing down your chin. He didn’t care if anyone knocked, or walked in. To them, it was none of their business, too scared to even mention the red bottoms slightly sticking from underneath the desk or the abrupt choking sound they’d hear in the middle of their conversation.

It just made Lewis even harder that they knew something was up. But no one was bold enough to speak up about it, scared they’d get blackballed from the industry they so desperately wanted to be in. If Lewis said they weren’t to be worked with ever…they won’t be.

After he allowed you to stand, your makeup had already smudged off, kisses trailing down his abs and a red print of your lips stained around the base of his dick so perfectly, that he took a picture of it when he went home that night and sent it to you straight from his own business number, his unbuttoned work shirt, abs and tattoos in shot and all.

You gasp when you opened it, your phone flying from your hand to the carpeted floor. You hadn’t even recovered from the events, and here he was reminding you that it definitely did happen.

‘This would be a great new tattoo, yeah? XX.

-Sir. L’

Boss!Lewis, who finally got the excuse he needed to do whatever he wanted to you. Why didn’t he just start spanking you from the beginning? Would have been easier than yelling at you, you probably would have let him so easily. All he had to tell you was it was a crucial part of discipline, of becoming your true artistic self. You would have been putty.

Boss!Lewis, who wanted to leave your panties soaked with his cum leaking out of you almost every late work night. So he did. You wouldn’t work overtime if you didn’t want that, obviously.

With every step you felt your lips glide together, making the mess so much worse. Your coworker asks why you’re walking weird the next morning, you say you sprained your ankle in your heels, but you’re fine. If they knew it was really all because your boss was creampie-ing you at nearly 2 in the morning, you’d be shamed out of the building. Climbing the ladder by sleeping with the CEO? How whorish of you.

Unfortunately, your little sessions with your beloved mentor weren’t making your days easier. How could you work properly with your panties soaked with your own arousal? Sloppy work made you upset, but so did unresolved cravings.

Boss!Lewis, who made you ride him while writing up notes as a punishment now. There was no excuse for mistakes. You had all the time you needed to double check.

“Spread your legs. Good girl. Keep going”

You complained with a whine and spread your legs further across his while continuing to bounce on him. Your thighs were burning like you had just done three sets of squats back to back, you were sweating, and the seat below you two was no dryer. Your handwriting was fucked, you couldn’t read a word back to yourself, but if you stopped, you didn’t know what he’d do next.

He caressed your back softly as you work your hips down on him, the clap of your ass against his pelvis bringing a smile to his face.

“Oh, baby…you better hope I can understand whatever’s on that paper”

Boss!Lewis, who gave you new strict rules on not talking to any male workers. It didn’t matter if they spoke to you first, you walked right by without a word, your eyes glancing upwards and spotting a familiar dark figure watching from your boss’s office.

You now had to cover up more, afraid anyone would see the hickeys that would magically appear on your neck whenever you’d leave Lewis’s office.

If the turtlenecks wasn’t a telling sign of what was going on, the sound of your voice coming out of the room sure would have been.

He began gagging you with your own thong, shoving it into your mouth as he slipped his fingers inside of you, his rings and tattoos coated with a thin layer of your cum. He licked up your neck, flicking his tongue over the darkening bruises as his fingers slid in knuckles deep.

“Be a good little slut and cum for me, okay? Can you do that for me, baby?”

You squealed into the cotton fabric in your mouth and threw your head back, your bangs falling out of your face as his fingers simultaneously pressed against your spot until your pussy was squirting like a fountain, wetting his rolled up sleeve.

That happened twice more. Eventually, he couldn’t shut you up with just a gag, but his fingers down your throat made the perfect replacement.

“You got the new designs all wet. I suggest you restart on these as soon as you get home, okay?”

12 hours wasn’t nearly enough time for you to get those sketches done, but you did it anyway, thanks to coffee and binge worthy shows.

You did so good, this was just another excuse for him to be able to finish inside you again, a hand wrapped around your throat to keep you still in the small office chair as he sung your praises about how much you were growing under his teachings.

He’d caress your face sweetly before sliding his thumb into your mouth, watching you suck on command. He loved the way you did as you were told without question.

“My pretty baby. You take it so well”

So proud you didn’t even need prepping from his fingers this time, your pussy greedily swallowed his dick and allowed him to fuck the way he wanted to. Feverishly. Every touch from him so fucking needy that he could just bite you. Your ass would be next, the size of him deliciously stretching you out with the help of your own slick and his spit as lubricant.

Maybe this little exchange was making you better as an artist. It seemed so. The insults were coming less and less, your designs were getting accepted more and more.

Boss!Lewis, who took you out to celebrate your growth, gifting you a ring with a tiny L carved on the inside of it and red bottom shoes that would stun the office. He treated you with the utmost respect with the paparazzi watching, making sure the image was nothing more than him going out to eat with one of his protégés innocently tagging along. Then, he took you back to his place and fucked you like a slut.

Your mouth was left open so wide you were convinced it would eventually lock in place like that. He didn’t even let you make it to the bed, the floor and your arched back was all he needed to get as deep as he wanted inside of you. You could scream all you wanted there. You were sure his maids got the hint to stay away from the foyer by now.

After he finished using you how he wanted, stuffing you full with his cum until he was perfectly satisfied, he’d kiss you on your forehead as if nothing had happened and you’d thank him. For tonight, and all your opportunities.

“I think someone deserves a promotion now”

Finally, you were where you needed to be.

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💌— I really hope yall liked this cause I cannot get Boss!Lewis off of my fucking mind 😭 I need him so bad yall like I literally had to FORCE myself to stop writing more smut in this 💔💔💔💔

[melosliving]

hi! I was wondering if you could write a story about aaron and reader are arguing because reader is jealous about him having to kiss a girl in a movie he was doing and he had to prove to them that he loves them and only them. please and thank you

Let me cook !! I hope you’ll like ! (I felt free to add smut to it because why notttt)

aaron pierre x actress!reader

Warnings : +18 (MDNI), nasty smutty, established relationship, jealousy, cranky reader

It’s been a long day for both of you. The set was chaotic, the director demanding, and the long hours had made you cranky. But what truly sent your heart spiraling was the news you’d just heard.

Your man had to kiss another woman for a scene in his movie. You hadn’t meant to overhear the conversation, but as you stood in the doorway of his trailer, the words hit you like a ton of bricks. Your stomach twisted, your chest tightened. You knew it was part of his job, but that didn’t stop the jealousy that clawed at you, irrational but raw.

Now, sitting in his car, you can barely look at him. The tension between you two is palpable, and the silence is thick, uncomfortable.

Aaron looks over at you, his jaw clenched, but his eyes soft. “Baby, talk to me. I don’t like when you’re like this.”

You scoff, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, staring out the window. “Like what?”

He takes a breath, turning fully towards you now. “You’re upset. I can tell. I don’t know why, but I can feel it.” You huff, shaking your head, but you can’t hide the hurt in your voice. “I just… I don’t get why you had to kiss her. I know it’s your job, but—”

His hands fly up in frustration, but not in anger. It’s more like he’s frustrated at himself for making you feel this way. “No, listen to me, okay? That kiss meant nothing. Nothing at all.”

“I know it was just acting,” you say, voice small. “But still… You kissed her. I don’t know if my weak ass can handle that."

He reaches over and gently places his hand on your knee, his touch warm and grounding. “Baby, I’ve been kissing you for years. There’s only one person who has my heart, and that’s you. No matter what’s in the script, no matter what I have to do on set, you’re the one I’m coming home to.”

You glance at him, searching his face, looking for any sign of insincerity. But all you see is love. His eyes are soft, pleading, and filled with everything you need to hear.

“And I’m sorry I made you feel this way,” he continues, his voice low. “You mean everything to me. I’m not going anywhere, and I don’t want anyone else.”

Tears start to sting your eyes as his words hit you. Slowly, you reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “I’m sorry, too papa,” you whisper, gently playing with his fingers. “I didn’t mean to be jealous like this. I just… I love you so much. I can’t stand the thought of anyone else touching you like I do.”

Aaron leans in and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “And you never will. Because no matter what, it’s you and me. Always.”

Now, as the rest of the trip was quiet, the only audible sound being the radio, you thought things had calmed down between you. How wrong you were. You didn’t even the time to step out of your shoes that aaron took you to y’all’s bedroom.

"Aaron- what are you doing ?" You asked, following him as he entered the room, closing the door behind him.

The tension between y’all thickened, and even if the only source of light in the room was the sunset’s, you could still see aaron slightly tightening his jaw as he looked down at you.

It was like he was actually realizing just how deeply all of this was affecting you. He pulled you closer to his, brushing his lips against your ear. " I’m sorry you felt that way. I need to show you you’re the only one who can have me.”

He never actually felt like this, never been the object of one’s jealousy. But this was nice —apart from the part where it makes you upset– it made him feel even more connected to you.

That’s how he now had you wrapped in his body, almost in his skin. His dick was buried in you so deep, but his fingers were so delicate on your skin, his kisses so gentle. "Papa is so sorry for making you jealous baby, will you forgive him ?" He asks as he fucked himself into your sweet pussy. You felt so good around him, your hips grinding to try to meet his.

"haa– fuck !"

"C’mon tell me bub. You forgive me ?" He asks again, lips against your shoulder. You whine softly, trying to push back against him.

"Yeah baby, you’re forgiven- mh !" You whine. Aaron chuckles a bit before his hands grasp your hips to hold you steady. With one firm thrust, he is breaching your folds and sliding deep inside you. your head dropping to the pillow below you as you whimper through the burn. The stretch burns more then you anticipated, and you hear him groaning softly, which sends another wave of liquid heat rushing through you.

"God you feel so good baby, you take my cock so fucking well." He praises you, gently pulling out to slowly thrust back in. His eyes are locked on the place where you two connect, watching with hooded eyes as his cock disappears inside you.

"Oh my— why are you fucking me like this ?..feels so good.."

"I wish you could see this baby." He praises again through a soft moan, and you drink up every sound he makes. "I’m yours baby, take your dick."

You needed this so bad and you actually loved the fact that you were the only one who could give him this type of relief.

Yours yours yours yours yours. he was yours.

Your forehead presses against the bed, muffled and strangled cries escaping your lips every time aaron hits deep inside you. His cock stretches you perfectly, and always hits places deep inside you. Places you didn't know existed. Soon you feel your orgasm creeping up on you, almost making you feel lightheaded.

"Please make your pussy cum papa, im so close." You beg, muffling your moans with your palm as he drives his cock into you. You feel sweat covering your entire body and aaron holds your hips with a bruising force. You feel that coil winding tighter and tighter, and you release a high pitched whine when his hand actually snakes around your body to thumb your clit.

"Papa this dick feels so good, soo good baby. Always feels so good, fuck baby I love you," You're not sure what you're saying at this point, an incoherent mess of praises for the man above you. "Nah, this is your dick baby, say it."

"My dick—It’s mine, mine, mine." You repeat mindlessly, pleasure taking over you. "shit, I love you too baby." He answers.

Aaron loved when he could reduce you to incoherent words and disconnected statements because of him. slamming his cock inside you and rolling your clit before you're squeezing around him tightly, your mouth falls open in a silent scream. You cum in hot gushes around him and he can only offer a few more sloppy thrusts before he's cumming with a loud growl, coating your walls in his hot cum.

chest heaving from the exertion, aaron feels more relaxed than he has all day. There's a small smile on your face and your eyes are closed as your legs finally give out and you collapse against the sheets.

"Are you okay bub ?" You hear, and you can't help but smile when you hear that he's panting slightly. You hum with a smile on your face. "I’m sorry i got cranky over this, I love you."

"That’s okay mama. I understand you, but I want you to know I’m yours, only yours."

@ melosliving 2025

[w2hoonki]

obsession | p.s

MDNI !

warnings : unprotected sex, dry humping

my eyes wandered around the room as they make their way to sunghoon, i couldn't help but blush at the way he looked. everything about him looked so pretty, the way his hair sat on his forehead, his lashes that fluttered as he ate, the way his wiped his mouth with a napkin. i can't deny that i was obsessed with him, but who wouldn't be?

he was just peacefully sitting with his friends, listening to them like the kind person he is. i looked away before anyone could notice my habits. my friends talked about our weekend plans we had, with all the boys they have a crush on. my friend group and another one were pairing up and going to the beach. i was the only person in the group who wasn't open about my crush, i normally shrugged it off like i didn't have one, but i only ever had my eyes on sunghoon.

as lunch finished up, i gathered my things and walked to my next class. sunghoon was in english next, not with me. i always followed behind him, but he never noticed me.

getting ready for the trip was easy, there was no one there to impress. i packed all my comfy and summer clothes and jumped onto the train. as i enter the train i make eye contact with sunghoon, he stands there doing basically nothing, and he has me on my knees with that gaze.

even though i hadn't packed any nice clothes i was going to find a way for him. all of his friends were loud but he kept his gaze on me the entire time. i couldn't help but notice every time our eyes met, leaving my neck red and hot. time traveling through memories, but something was missing, sunghoon. your heart started to race as you held eye contact. He wasn’t the type of guy to look for long but when your eyes met he couldn’t stop looking at you. It was almost like he wanted you the way you wanted him. he stared at you with lust and desire almost in need of you.

you couldn't help but adjust your skirt to cover your legs. sunghoon sat next to you and put his arm around you. "looks like we're the only non couple huh?" he told you with a grin. your face heated with embarrassment as the boy you loved had his arm around you and he was talking to you.

"yeah you're right, and maybe we could share a bed or something." you said with a grin. you tried to push it off quickly as if you hadn't said one of your nasty thoughts out to the boy you loved but he nodded.

as you entered the room you sat on the bed and sunghoon got onto it with you. he laid down and rested his head on the pillow. he was always a flirt with other girls so you had felt not what you had wanted him to think of you but you couldn't help it. you laid next to him and cuddled into your pillow.

"you could cuddle into me you know" he said with a smirk, the smirk that had you giggling like a middle school girl. you shook your head, playing hard to get, not because you wanted it but you weren't quite ready. he just chuckled at your words.

"maybe we could watch a movie" you said with a smile. he shrugged as if he didn't really care but you turned on a random movie and watched it. he wrapped his arms around his pillow and placed it on top of his lap, covering something. he watched you with a smirk and a bit to his bottom lip. his hips shifted under the pillow and a groan had lodged into his throat. his head leaned back onto the headboard and he mumbled under his breath. your core was starting to beg for him as he was starting to go crazy for you.

"you have no idea what you're doing to me" he groaned out. he put his hand out asking for permission and you gave it to him with a nod. his hands gripped your hips as he pulled you onto his lap. "i always see you, why do you think i flirt with all those girls, i thought one day you would come and stop me but you never did. you think you're the obsessed one?" he asked with groaning as he grinded up into you. you whimpered at his words wondering all the time his feelings for you had gone over your head.

"you're so attractive sunghoon" you said while gasping out as he was grinding into your soaked core. he was trying his hardest to go slow but he wanted to run one hundred ad fifty miles with you. neither of you could wait for the other as the lust filled the room and the two people in the room.

"you're just as hot sweet girl" he chuckled out while smiling his bright smile. the room filled with sounds of your lips crashed together and his deep breaths. eventually you were both bare in the bed together, clothes covered the sides of the ground as you both stripped.

"you're so gorgeous baby" he groaned out as his hands wandered up to your breasts, his hands gripped hard, a whimper escaping your lips. he pulled you onto him so you were straddling him, your thighs tightened around his waist as he held you on his lap. his hands left your chest to grip your thighs and place you onto the bed.

"can i?" he asked while pressing his tip to the opening of you core. you nodded quickly as your core soaked the sheets under you. his tip slowly entered your hole, you gasped out in pleasure, cries and moans left your lips as he fully entered you. you clenched down had on his cock as he filled your core the way you've always wanted him to. his cock brushed against your g-spot causing you to clench even harder around him. his hands gripped harder and harder as his thrusts became sloppier and sloppier into your core.

"right there" you whimpered out into the room, his pace slowed down as he made sure you felt every inch of him deep inside of you. he groaned out as you gripped tightly onto his hair, his thrusts became heavier as he was getting closer to his high. he couldn't keep it inside of himself and as soon as you pulsated around his cock cumming, he was releasing deep inside of you.

after a bit he finally pulled out of you. the stretch was still there as he held you but you didn't worry about it.

"i love you" you mumble out to sunghoon. he only smiled at you before whispering "i love you too".

[peachsukii]

I’m too lazy to properly write up a little SMAU for this at the moment lol

Thinking about Bakugo and reader working together at his agency as re-connected friends. Your previous agency was closing down, and thankfully, you knew a few people who could pull some strings to keep you employed. What you didn’t expect was to see Bakugo’s name flash on your phone screen, calling you on a random Tuesday to ask you out to lunch. The two of you never lost contact, but after UA days, it became difficult to keep up with each other. No bad blood, just two adult heroes with busy ass lives.

Well, lunch was actually an interview in his office. He didn’t have any intention of letting you walk out without a job — he’s the boss and makes the rules, no matter what the finance department tells him they can and cannot afford. If he could guarantee job security for one of his friends, especially someone in the Class A family, then it was worth his own potential pay cut to keep you afloat.

Cut to a few months later once you’ve settled into a comfortable routine, you’ve found yourself hanging around Bakugo more often than you thought. There were plenty nights spent at your desk to catch up on your hero reports, something you’re notoriously always behind on, and he’d be sitting in his office doing whatever agency owners do. You never asked, it seemed like a boring subject that he dreaded speaking about anyways. Nights like these, he’d strut over to your desk with a cup of tea, telling you to get your ass home before you passed out and drooled all over your paperwork. You always wondered how he knew which tea you liked. Maybe subconsciously you started to like it because he made it for you.

You two never discussed things like relationships, because why would you? Bakugo hated personal conversations like that. You knew better than to pry, as curious as you were. Recently though, you’d gone through a nasty breakup, one that kept you up at night questioning how the hell you got to this point in your life and why you even wasted time with this guy. No matter the damage done to your heart, you still showed up for work, dragging your ass through patrol shifts without a word. Bakugo didn’t need words to figure out something was wrong with you, though. He knew from the bags under your eyes, the fake smiles you’d sport on the job, and the way you sigh when you don’t think anyone can hear you. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out, to look past your surface level emotions and dig a little deeper — at least, that’s what he told himself, chalking it up to knowing you for so long.

It bothered the shit out of him that you wouldn't open up on your own, and it pissed him off even more that he wanted you to come to him. No way in hell was he gonna make the first move...until he overheard you crying in the bathroom between patrol calls. Something in Bakugo snapped, simultaneously wanting to hunt down the man who hurt you and scoop you up into his arms, to tell you that the bastard wasn't worth your tears.

When you head back to the office the next night to finish up your pile of reports, there’s a bouquet of fresh flowers sitting on your desk. An immediate panic floods through you, thinking your ex is trying to slither his way back into your good graces. It takes an embarrassing amount of courage to flip over the card stuck in the flowers, afraid of the words on the other side and what kind of mental gymnastics you’re gonna have to tumble through. Imagine your surprise when you find yourself snickering as you read it, a goofy grin tugging at your lips.

‘Dinner tomorrow @ 6. I’ll be sure you forget all about him.’

You don’t even need to ask who they’re from — Bakugo’s leaning against the doorframe of his office with his arms crossed over his chest, a cocky smirk on his face. He nods in your direction. “Wear somethin’ nice and don’t bring your wallet.”

He turns and shuts the door, the smile on your face telling him your answer before you could even vocalize it.

[luigifan1998]

here's an ask for you :)

luigi teaching you how to cook his favorite italian dish! it'd be super cute and romantic and he'd do that little lip pout thing he does because he's so focused

ahhhh this is so cute. love that my first ask wasnt about hardcore nasty sex LOL

he would absolutely be the one to gather everything the recipe requires. it matters to him to get ingredients that only he would know of, things that hes seen in his mother and grandmothers cupboards since childhood. things he has to go to hole-in-the-wall stores for, with shopkeepers hes familiar with. employees that greet him by name and ask how hes doing, how his family is doing. to him, this is part of the love that goes into making a nurturing meal

thinking about his little pout is killing me im going to squish his cheeks telekinetically through the concrete and steal bars wahhhhh but he wouldnt even know how often he does actually pout, soft lips falling downward at the corners, making him resemble that boy in the photos lining his parents foyer as opposed to the ones youd find on his many, many friends social media pages. you wouldnt even want to tell him about his proclivity for the childlike habit because that could interfere with how often he allows you to witness him at ease. he does it in his sleep too, though only when hes exhausted which is more often than not

he would get carried away in explaining the methods hes using to make the pasta itself, the sauce, all while talking about the women in his family with a reverence that would make you feel like hiding behind your hair. slipping into aphorisms and using lovely words in a language you cannot understand. his tanned fingers look softer as they work dough than when hes with the more unforgiving materials he is usually surrounded by. you'd call his hands beautiful while leaning too far over the counter, studying him in opposition to what hes trying to teach you. he would get so flustered, so boyish, unable to make eye contact. he'd just smile and shake his head before sliding behind you to guide you into understanding what he wants you to know. he doesnt have to try to be romantic, he simply is

also im impossibly upset over his selective shyness. one trillion heart breaking emojis

[m1rotics]

Possessive

cult leader's son!hongjoong x fem!reader (however body isn't mentioned

this is literally just hongjoong being a weird little freak but this marks the end of her ability to be friends with anyone besides him. hongjoong is a HUGE red flag.

hongjoong is staring again, you can see him over yunho's shoulder, off in the distance, next to someone's house. you can see his wide eyes trained on you. you force your gaze back to yunho with his bright smile and kind eyes. he's cute. charming. the kind of boy that oozes happiness. you're pretty sure he bleeds sunshine.

yunho's a nice boy. he's fourteen just like you. he's so sweet, it makes your teeth ache. he's got an easy laugh, and he helps your neighbors out from time to time— hell, he's even helped your mom a few times. he's everything hongjoong is not, and that— that bores you. thinking too much about it feels like pressing on a nasty bruise, so naturally, you ignore it.

despite the realization that this is beyond rude, your eyes wander back to hongjoong. he tilts his head, and grins but it doesn't reach his eyes. it's not mirthful. it's lackluster, dull like a rusty blade. it's barely visible, and you barely make out the idents of it but somehow you see it. then, his mouth starts moving, "come here."

your eyes drift back to yunho, tuning back into what he's saying. something about his brother, whose name you didn't catch, and how the heat has been killing him lately . mundane stuff. immediately, your mind jumps to other things. you don't know what hongjoong wants from you because he hasn't talked to you since that time by the river, and you're not close, like, at all. (you choose to disregard how bummed out you were when he started keeping his distance again.) you're barely even acquaintances.

you look past him again, but hongjoong isn't there anymore. you don't think he's gone far though, he wouldn't have. he wants you to come to him.

and that's what you do.

looking at yunho, you cut off his ramblings with a small, "it's been so nice talking to you but I have to go."

yunho pauses, eyebrows knitting together. he scans your face like you're a puzzle, trying to understand. after finding nothing, he says, "um, okay."

you don't give him any time to ask questions, rushing off in the direction you saw hongjoong. it doesn't matter that he's gone, you'll find him somewhere in the area. once you make it, a hand tugs you behind the building. you stumble a bit, narrowly catching yourself on the wall. you turn around to face him, hongjoong doesn't say anything, simply looks.

"wha-"

"who was that?" he snaps, cutting you off.

"who? yunho?"

"you know his name" he says, terse "is he your friend?"

"kinda," you mutter, and hongjoong smiles again. it's sharp this time, threatening. he steps closer and you back up, "really? you two seemed close."

stunned, your mouth opens and closes. there's so many questions running through your head, that all your words die on your tongue. hongjoong inches closer, you back away as much as you can until your back hits the wall.

"tell me, is he your boyfriend?"

you vehemently shake your head. hongjoong laughs; short puffs of air through his nose.

"then you must be fucking him? is that why he looks at you like that? because he's been sticking his dick in you."

the words impale you, leave you stuck there, choking on air. they poison your blood, make your heart pick up. beating faster.

"why," you swallow, throat dry, "do you care?"

hongjoong's eye twitches and he sneers, borderline snarling; mouth curled like a wild dog. he looks feral. he looks mean. dead eyes staring back at you. they bounce around from your eyes, to your nose, to your mouth and back up. his hands settle on your arms, slightly below your shoulders, and squeezes. his grip aches. you can feel the bruises blooming beneath his fingertips.

"I care," he spits, his tone scathing, "because you're mine."

you blink dumbly. hummingbird heart pounding in your chest, beating against the cage of your ribs. you would've laughed at the childish decree if the situation was different, if anyone else uttered such nonsense, but it's hongjoong saying it that makes it difficult.

"do you understand?"

slowly, you nod.

hongjoong's grip eases up a bit, "good, but I want to hear you say it."

"I'm yours," you mumble. you can't tell if you're embarrassed or shy or nervous and this feels like selling yourself away. what you do know is that your stomach is flipping and eating itself from whatever it is that you're feeling and looking at hongjoong's surprisingly pleased expression, you think you might've gotten in over your head.

in a flash, hongjoong's back to normal like nothing ever happened. his face blank, eyes vacant, hands dropping to his side, "it'll be in your best interest not to forget it."

and with that said, he leaves.

[vigilante-3073]

It’s my birthday is on Saturday! Could I have please a Gregory house x reader imagine?

Birthday Girl

Gregory House x Female Reader

Summary: It is Y/N's birthday and everyone seems to have forgotten but House.

TW: Established relationship, surprise party, House being sneaky.

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY! 🥳🎂🎉 Hope you have the best day ever!

F/N: Father's name M/N: Mother's name

It was Y/N's birthday.

Y/N was a relatively simple person and didn't expect much fanfare on her birthday, but she at least wanted it to be acknowledged. It was almost lunchtime and not one person had wished her a happy birthday.

Y/N hadn't received a single call or text from friends or family either and it was starting to get to her. She sat alone at a table in the cafeteria, picking away at a dry muffin while trying not to cry.

Y/N looked up when House sat down across from her, her eyes quickly returned to the dissected baked good as she tried to keep herself together.

"You've been upset about something all day long. You've been virtually useless in differentials and I think I know why," House started.

"Why?" Y/N questioned softly.

He stuck a hand into his blazer, pulling out a pink envelope and setting it down on the table. Y/N glanced up at him before picking it up, she opened it and slid out a card.

It was blue with a cartoon goose in a party hat on the front, in swirly pink writing it read:

Happy Birthday, you silly goose!

Y/N felt tears gathering in her eyes, "Happy birthday, Y/N," House said.

"Thank you," She said softly.

"I made reservations for us at that fancy place you like, I'll pick you up at eight," House stated.

"Okay," Y/N smiled.

House stood up from the table, "Get some real food in the meantime, none of the stuff they bake here is edible," House said.

House and Y/N had been dating for almost three years. She was an important member of his team and feelings developed between them as they spent more time together. House always had a soft spot for Y/N and he tended to be more gentle with her than he was with other members of his team.

Cuddy and Wilson both talked to Y/N when their relationship was in the early stages. They wanted her to be careful and advised her that being with him was not a good decision.

Y/N and House worked together, he was her boss and he was House, which was reason enough for her to steer clear.

House was rude, manipulative, sarcastic and downright abrasive while Y/N was the complete opposite. She was kind, trusting, soft-spoken and generally sweet, everyone who met her absolutely loved her.

Wilson and Cuddy thought that House would ruin her.

House may not have always been the romantic type, but he definitely cared for Y/N. He looked out for her in ways that weren't obvious, discreetly checking in to make sure she was doing alright.

For the most part, House had done well with keeping his relationship out of the workplace. Other than a few nasty jokes here and there, he treated her the same as his other employees. Things got easier as time went on and Cuddy was actually surprised that he was able to compartmentalize.

The rest of the day was eventful, but it wasn't anything out of the ordinary when it came to being on a case with House. The patient was lied to and browbeaten into making the decision that eventually led to their diagnosis and subsequent cure.

House drove to her apartment after they had finished the case, he brought her a bouquet of flowers and a wrapped gift. He made his way up to the door and knocked, breath catching in his throat when he saw her.

Y/N had always dressed well, but seeing her fully made up always managed to take his breath away.

"You look hot," He said.

Y/N smiled, "Thank you," She replied.

"Got these for you," House said, holding out the bouquet to her.

"Aw, that's sweet. Just give me a minute to put them in some water and then we can go, okay?" Y/N asked, House nodded.

Y/N made her way into the kitchen, House stepped into her apartment and closed the door. He set the gift on the table next to the couch, moving over to the kitchen and watching Y/N as she trimmed the flowers.

Y/N placed the colorful flowers into the water before setting the vase in the center of her kitchen island.

"I know you like pink so I asked for whatever was the most pink," House stated.

"I love them. Thank you, Greg," Y/N smiled.

He nodded, "We should get going, got a reservation in twenty minutes," He said.

...

Dinner went off without a hitch, they had a few drinks and shared a dessert before House walked her back to his car. He opened the door for her, she thanked him as she slipped inside.

House nodded, closing the door behind her before moving around to the driver's side. He drove back to her apartment with the radio playing softly as they talked. House parked the car and walked her up to her apartment, standing behind her as she unlocked the door.

Y/N opened the door, the lights turned on suddenly before the large group of party guests yelled, "Surprise!"

Y/N turned to look at House, "Did you plan this?" She asked.

He nodded, "I know how crazy you are about birthdays so I told everyone to keep quiet about it until the party... Then you were moping around so much that I caved and got you the card," House said.

Y/N smiled, sliding her arms around him and giving him a hug, "Thank you," She mumbled.

He returned her embrace, "You're welcome... Now go enjoy your party," He said.

Y/N pulled away, stepping into her apartment with a happy smile. Everyone was there, including her parents that House flew to New Jersey for the occasion.

House settled himself on the couch with a drink as he watched his girlfriend interact with her friends and family. He knew that he was lucky to have her, but times like these just showed him exactly how lucky he was.

Y/N almost had too many friends to invite, everyone she had ever met fell in love with her and it baffled him.

How could a person be so magnetic to everyone around them without intending to be?

Y/N had no greater motivations, she was just genuinely happy and House wanted to be like that.

Y/N made her way over, sitting down on the couch beside House and crossing her legs, "You enjoying the party?" He asked.

"I am, but you're not," Y/N stated.

"I enjoy spending time with you, not a fan of the crowd," House said.

"Do you want to stay over tonight?" She questioned.

"You just want me to help you clean up this mess," House said, Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile.

"You're right, I only want you to stay over for your cleaning abilities. Not because I like you or anything," Y/N teased.

"I'll stay," House nodded.

"Good, I was hoping that you would," She replied.

"Since I managed to steal you away from your many adoring fans," He started, reaching over and grabbing the wrapped gift that he had left on the table.

House held it out to her, "Open it," He said.

Y/N took the gift from his hand, carefully tearing away the paper. She let out a soft gasp when she realized what it was, a pristine first edition copy of her favorite book.

"Where did you find this?" She asked softly.

"I've been looking around for a while," House said.

"House, this must've cost you a fortune," Y/N said, looking over the book and examining the details.

"You're worth every penny," He stated.

Y/N looked up at him, "You're a really sweet guy, House. Thank you," She said.

He nodded, "I should go introduce myself to your parents, learn what kind of craziness is in my future," House said.

"You go do that," Y/N said, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. House stood up from the couch, making his way over to Y/N's parents.

"Hi, I don't think we've met. I'm Gregory House," He said.

"I'm F/N and this is my wife, M/N. Thank you for inviting us," Y/N's father said.

"Yes, we really appreciate you flying us down to see her," M/N said.

"Of course, you're her parents and you should be here," House nodded.

"We've heard a lot about you, Doctor House," M/N said.

"Don't believe everything you hear... Unless they're good things, then they're completely true," House said.

M/N smiled, "Our daughter seems quite smitten with you and I can definitely see why," She said.

"I'm a lucky guy," House nodded, tapping his cane on the ground gently.

"I was actually hoping to get your blessing to ask her to marry me," House admitted.

Her mother smiled widely, looking over at her husband, "I just need to know one thing, Doctor House... Do you love her?" F/N asked.

"More than I've ever loved anything," House stated.

"Then of course, you have our blessing," F/N said, holding out his hand to House. He shook her father's hand with a small smile, knowing that he was about to make the best decision of his life.

...

Y/N woke up the next morning, eyes fluttering open to the bright sunlight filtering in through the window. Y/N turned onto her other side, realizing that the space beside her was unoccupied. House tended to have bouts of insomnia, but usually wound up in bed beside her before she woke up in the morning.

Y/N let out a soft sigh, eyes drifting over to the alarm clock on the nightstand.

"Oh, crap," She mumbled, climbing out of bed quickly and rushing into the bathroom when she realized that she was incredibly late for work.

Y/N brushed her teeth, combing her hair and pulling it up into a ponytail. Y/N made her way out of the bathroom, searching through her clothing quickly to find an outfit.

"Where's the fire?" House asked, making his way into the bedroom with a tray in his hands.

"I'm really late," Y/N mumbled shakily, trying to keep the panicked tears at bay.

"I called in for you and I already," House said.

"You did what?" Y/N asked, turning to face him.

"You and I are out sick for the day," He stated.

Y/N let out a huff, her shoulders sinking as she looked at him, "Why didn't you tell me?" She asked.

"You were asleep," He shrugged, "Get back in bed, I made breakfast," He said.

Y/N shuffled over to the bed, climbing under the blankets and settling on the mattress with her back against the headboard.

House placed the tray over her lap, "I thought I had a bit more time before you woke up in a panic," He said, moving around the bed and getting in beside her.

Y/N huffed, "You almost gave me a heart attack," She said.

"My bad... I hope that the chocolate chip pancakes and bacon I made will fix it," He said.

"It might," Y/N replied. She shared her meal with House, sipping on her coffee while he watched her.

"I have a question for you," He said, she looked over at him.

House slipped a hand into the pocket of his pyjama pants and pulled out the small velvet box. He flipped the lid open with his thumb before holding it out in front of her. Y/N's eyes widened, gaze flickering between the ring and House.

"Will you marry me?" He asked.

"I'm sorry, what?" Y/N mumbled quietly, House smiled.

House let out a soft laugh, hand dropping onto the bed, "Did you not understand the question?" He asked.

"No... I-I don't know," Y/N said softly.

"I'm gonna ask again, alright?" House questioned, she nodded.

"Will you marry me?" He asked.

"Did you ask my dad?" Y/N questioned.

"I don't want to marry your dad, I want to marry you," House stated, smile widening.

"No, did you ask him for his blessing?" Y/N asked.

"Of course I did and he said yes. Now, I'm gonna ask you for the third time and I need you to focus because asking four times would be humiliating, alright?" House said.

"I'm sorry, I just- I wasn't ready," Y/N said, her cheeks flushing.

"Will you marry me?" House asked.

"Yes," Y/N replied, a wide smile breaking out across her face.

"Finally! My god, I was starting to think that I'd never get an answer," House said.

Y/N cupped his cheeks, pressing her lips to his in a gentle kiss. She pulled away and House took her left hand into his, plucking the ring from the box and sliding it onto her finger.

Y/N smiled as she looked down at it, "It's beautiful, House," She said.

"Wilson helped me pick it out. He's got a lot of experience with ring shopping," House said.

"Well, I love it, it's perfect," Y/N assured.

"I'm glad you like it... Happy birthday, Y/N," He said.

[daddysboydean]

heaven is a place

“Open up,” Sam says. They’re standing outside a warehouse in downtown LA, letting loose between jobs. Dean hates California, but Sammy kept going on about the god damn ‘healing powers’ of California sunshine and salty ocean air. It’ll make us feel good, he promised. If Dean’s being honest, more heat is the last thing he wants — give him temps so cold they make his bones ache, hunting the abominable snowman in Alaska or evil elves in the North fucking Pole, whatever. But it’s Sam. It’s Sam.

So here they are, ten to midnight with some shit they scored off one of Sam’s old classmates. Dean’s never done this one before but Sam has, something about college parties and getting lit. Sam sticks his tongue out, berry pink like the underside of something sweet and alive you’re not supposed to see, and it makes Dean think of pussy lips. Wet and slick. A pale purple circle with a smiley face stamped on it sits in the middle of all that pretty pink. Dean tilts his head up, just a little because he’s tall but his brother is taller, and licks the pill off Sam’s tongue.

The warehouse is a club called Heaven. Heaven is loud, hot, thick with sweaty bodies packed shoulder to shoulder and dancing to the DJ’s techno drone. Concrete pillars rise up to a ceiling lined with metal pipes that look liquid, T-1000’s mimetic polyalloy shapeshifting in the strobe light glow. Dean says as much, the words spilling out of him in a blur so he’s not even sure what he’s saying as he says it.

“You're such a nerd,” is what he gets in response. A little part of his brain wants to argue back that that’s his line, but Sam’s cool breath against his ear makes Dean shiver and forget.

The way the room is all lit up in reds and smokey shadows reminds Dean of the pit, of being on the rack with his insides exposed and boiling in the heat. Dean’s in his mechanic’s coveralls, navy blue and covered in grease stains, the ones with ‘Singer Salvage’ embroidered above the breast pocket in white cursive. He’s got the sleeves rolled, pant legs tucked into his boots, unbuttoned at the top to expose his collar bones. A look Sam called slutty with a psycho-hungry shine in his eyes, but the pain memory of being downstairs makes Dean’s skin crawl like he’s naked under the knife again. He grinds his teeth and whimpers into the ecstasy rush, and the sound is lost to grimy industrial beats blasting through the speakers. He grips Sam harder against him (for comfort, for release, does it matter?) and rolls his body up along his brother’s, like how you dip your finger in the last specks of sugar on a plate so you don’t miss any of the sweetness. Edge to edge, gotta get every last bit.

And that’s how they fade into the crowd, just two more bodies trying and failing to eat each other whole. They can do that here, in front of God and everybody. Dean can run his hands under the white wife beater wrapped tight around Sam’s chest, drag his nails over skin and feel Sam's stomach muscles clench and sigh underneath. He can pull Sammy close by his belt loops, hips against hips, and let his eyes roll back at the friction. No one cares here because no one knows.

Dean has spent years chasing the brutal thrill of dive bar whores and good girls looking for a nasty time. Cheap perfume and the sharp sting of a woman’s hair against his face, bending himself into a shape that never fit. Every room the wrong size without his gigantic brother in it. He looks at Sam’s face, shining blood red in the lights and just as hot, and he knows. He knows it like an exorcism incantation, like stripping a gun. Without thinking. Next to Sam is the only place he’s ever belonged.

All Dean’s atrophied little pieces are touch-starved and Hell-stained, and all he needs is for Sam to kiss them better.

It’s a filthy bright weight in Dean’s veins, like he’s made of ribbon, like the music is curling through him and around him and he’s curling around Sam. Everything’s in shades of faded cherry red but he’s candy-colored when he sticks his tongue into Sam’s mouth, neon love filling him up so good.

Dean thought if he could pile on enough good, maybe it’d cancel out the darkness he brought back from the pit, where all his nastiest parts were thrown on the rack and peeled back for examination. John toeing lines with Dean, Dean obliterating those lines with Sam, hooking at truck stops for cash and scraps. Watching people die because he couldn’t save them until he held the knife himself and watched people die because of him. The guilt, the guilt, the guilt.

But really, Dean’s not even trying that hard for redemption. How can he be when this is what he wants? No matter how many lives he saves, no matter how many times they stop the world from ending, no amount of good will ever be enough to absolve him of this incessant need to fuck his brother up the ass. It’s a poison under his skin that itches and itches but won’t let up.

And this thing’s always been rotten to the core, sour-soft and collapsing in the middle. Like hell can Dean say no, though. They’d have to do more than draw and quarter him to keep him away from Sammy.

Sammy, his baby, grinding against him in time to the dirty bass beat.

Sammy, his baby, unzipping Dean’s coveralls so they’re half undone and Sam can slip them off Dean’s shoulders, tying the sleeves around his waist and leaving his arms and chest bare. Sammy always needed to be close, to be touching, even as a kid. Skin to skin, all tangled up in each other in Baby’s backseat and crummy motel beds. Dean is covered in a slick sheen of sweat and Sam runs his hands through it, spreading the wetness around and squeezing Dean’s skin tight, reminding him that he’s here and he’s safe and he’s wanted under his brother’s calloused palms. Dean is vaguely aware of the burn mark on his shoulder, hand print shining shell pink against the rest of him, still so new Dean’s shocked each time he sees it. Sam slides his fingers over it, tracing the outline so gentle it makes Dean’s toes curl inside his boots.

He’s overheating from the X and the memories, rolling so fucking hard and it’s too much pain and pleasure mixed together, the wires all crossed and it’s making Dean short circuit. Sam reads Dean’s signs like they’re a book he knows by heart and leads him through the crowd, out the heavy doors and into the night, giving him what he needs when Dean can’t ask for it himself. Dean doesn’t think he’s ever felt anything so good as the dry Santa Ana winds blowing over his fever-hot skin, free from the stink of dancing bodies and too much synth.

Outside, Dean’s light like Kansas cottonwood fluff floating along the breeze with his eyes closed shut. He senses his balance is off, but in a secondhand way, like it’s not really his body that’s falling.

“Whoa there, cowboy,” Sam laughs, and Dean slow blinks past the chemical bliss when he feels Sam’s hands on his shoulders, propping him up against a fence like a tire that’s about to tip over. The wire on his back makes him shiver in the heat.

“Why aren’t you as fucked up as me?” Dean slurs, cottonwood fluff in his mouth this time. He rolls his head back, and the fence rattles around him.

“I am. I’m just better at taking drugs than you,” Sam says, as if being a druggie is something to brag about. Dean’s about to say it but then Sam’s trailing his finger down the curve of his neck, throat pulled taut with his head thrown back like it is, and Dean’s brain blanks.

“Jerk,” is all he can choke out.

Sam pulls out a beat-up pack of cigarettes from his jeans, must’ve nicked them from somebody inside with his sticky witchy fingers, and sticks one in his mouth. “No, you’re the jerk, I’m the bitch,” Sam says around the cigarette. He pats his pockets and comes up empty, then gropes around Dean’s coveralls for his Zippo. Dean loves the familiarity of Sam touching him like this, casual, no thought, no barrier to entry where his brother is concerned. They’re all one piece, and Dean counts himself lucky. Everybody craves closeness like this, but few get it.

The flint click-pops a metallic burst in Dean’s ears, and Sam blows out a cloud of minty smoke. Dean takes a deep breath in, coming back to himself a little bit.

“Kools? Really?” Dean says when Sam pockets the green soft pack. Sam assures him that ‘it's a thing.’

“Menthols are good on ecstasy,” He says. Probably another druggie trick he learned at Stanford. Vick’s VapoRub was mentioned, but Dean said fuck no to putting that shit under his nose.

Sam hands the cigarette to Dean, but it takes him a few tries to grab it. His hand-eye coordination is shot. Sam leans on the fence facing Dean and holds it, filter-side first, to Dean’s mouth. Dean opens his lips to take a drag and lets his tongue lick the salty pad of Sam’s fingertip. The smoke and skin light Dean up from the inside and make his jaw ache from the pleasure of it all. Sam says he’s peaking. Once Dean has a firm grip on the cigarette, Sam flops over so his back rests on the fence. More rattling, and Dean spaces out on the sound for a minute before remembering he’s got smoke in his mouth. He puffs it out minty-cool and looks over at Sam, sharp-jawed with glitter on his cheeks that flickers sliver under the moonlight. His hair is getting long, fuckin’ hippie, it’s sticking up in a hundred directions with sweat and grease. Dean loves him more than he’s ever loved anything. He loves Sam so hard and so deep, it drips down to his mutilated core, and it’s almost enough to make him whole again.

He wants Sam to feel how he feels, a cunt hair away from perfection, so he reaches up with the hand that’s not holding the Kool and scratches Sam’s scalp, and he swears, it’s almost like he’s doing it to himself, the way his eyes roll back in his head at the soft feel of Sam’s mop tickling the insides of his fingers, where the skin is so rarely touched.

“I can feel that in my cock,” Sam moans, low like it pains him, but Dean keeps going ‘cause there’s good pain and there’s bad pain, and he knows this is the good kind.

Two years from now, it’ll be Sam’s turn to go to Hell. Dean will grieve and again he'll stuff himself into a mold that doesn’t match his shape, hoping that maybe this time, maybe this time he’ll shrink to match. And when Sam comes back with his own special brand of fucked in the head, Dean will do his best to protect him the way he always has, mind, body, and soul, only it won’t matter. Won’t even touch all the ways Lucifer messes Sam up during his extended stay in the pit.

But here, half-past four against a chain link fence with the California heat sticking warm to their skin, they share a cigarette. Sam rests his head on top of Dean’s and Dean curls his fingers through Sam’s. They’ll walk twenty minutes to Venice Beach and watch the sun rise over the Pacific, all baby blues and bright golden yellows coming over the horizon, edge of the world and no red in sight.

ao3

[anthophi-lia]

We’re not even dating…

(Part 2)

A kindly requested sequel to this smau… We’re not even dating

Bakugou Katsuki x reader

1201 words

Enjoy!

The panic comes the moment your eyes flutter open. Here you are laying in your bed, with a still slumbering Katsuki Bakugou with his head pressed against your chest and his hand grasping at the side of your t-shirt.

You weren’t panicking at the fact that he was there. Waking up beside or snuggled against him was far from unusual for the two of you. No, the panic stemmed from the events of the previous night when Katsuki let the alcohol do all the talking before vomiting in your toilet and letting you lull him to sleep in your bed.

“Fuck…This is disgusting. Can you please just get out?” He had slurred between gags as he hunched over the toilet bowl. This brought a small laugh out of you as you shook your head at the mess he currently was.

“Get out of my bathroom? That I’m letting you destroy right now?” You brushed his hair out of his face with one hand as you continued to rub his back soothingly with the other. “If it’s me being scared off by your nasty puking that you’re worried about, then no need Kats. I still think you’re pretty cute,” you teased as he let out a frustrated growl.

“The puking isn’t the main issue…” He mumbled as he wiped at his bottom lip and sat up to lean himself against the bathroom wall. You knew he was referring to the series of drunken text messages he had sent you that had prompted you to come fetch him in the first place. You pursed your lips, unsure of what to say to him or how to ease his nerves.

“Let’s get you cleaned up so we can get some rest yeah?” Is all you could manage, offering him your hand to help stand himself up. He gave you a small nod, his gaze on the floor, as he took your hand and wobbled his way to the sink.

Now, nine hours later, he remained passed out on top of you, blissfully unaware of the awkward conversation you were soon to have. You know that chances were slim that he had meant any of the things he had said to you the night before. So now your goal was to agree to just forget about it so you could hopefully you could continue your relationship in the same manner as before. Late night texts to come over, occasional casual hang outs, and absolutely no exclusivity.

Deciding it’s best to just get it over with, you gently put your hands in his hair and softly say his name, “Kats…Wake up Kats..” He lets out a low grumble, nuzzling himself deeper into you, clearly only partially conscious. You roll your eyes and give his cheek a pinch, just sharp enough to wake him up.

“Christ, what the fuck,” he hisses out, smacking your hand away. He goes to rub the sleep from his eyes like a child would and for just a moment you’re reminded by how genuinely pure he can be sometimes. Until he’s cursing you out again. “You’re a bitch you know that right? I’m exhausted. Let me fucking sleep.”

Now that he’s awake, you push him off you slightly so you can sit yourself up. He looks at you with fire in his eyes, but you simply give him back a soft smile, doing your best to keep things comfortable until it becomes the opposite.

“You had quite the night last night…” You try to start the conversation, but he flops onto his back with a groan, and throws his arm over his face. “Kats…Babe..” You bring your knees towards your chest and reach to give him a little shake.

“Oh god just stop please. Don’t ‘babe’ me. Let’s just fucking forget it, yeah?” He peeks past his arm at you and you’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t sink a little bit.

“Oh. Yeah alright. I just thought you’d want to talk about it.” You avert your gaze, praying he can’t see the way your heart is in your throat, and you’re about to throw it up.

“There’s nothing to talk about. Clearly you don’t feel the same way so just forget about the whole damn thing.”

Oh?

Your jaw falls open for a moment and you shoot your eyes back towards him. You grab his shoulder to pull him upright, pure disbelief on your face. He chews on the inside of his mouth, frustration ever present on his face.

“Are you saying you meant what you said?”

Grumbling.

You can’t stop the stupid grin on your face as you reach to grab his hand, holding it tightly. With your other hand you grab his jaw, tilting his face towards you.

“Katsuki Bakugou. You’re in love with me?” Pure and utter humiliation falls on his face and though you feel just a tad cruel for reacting like this, you can’t help but internally squeal at the situation.

“What the fuck did I say? Forget- ” Before the sentence fully falls out of his mouth, you press your lips to his. You feel him gasp, but lean into the kiss, reaching to the back of your neck and pulling you deeper into him.

You swing your leg over his hips, so you’re now straddling him. You adoringly run your hands up and down his entire body, pressing kiss after kiss onto him. Finally pulling away, you put your hands on either side of his awestruck face and smile like an idiot.

“What was that?” He gasps out, catching his breath. He lets his hand fall to your hips and lets his eyes trail all the way down your body and back up again.

“Katsuki Bakugou. You’re a goddamn idiot.” You shake your head and squish his face between your hands, which brings a deep frown out of him.

“Hey now it’s not my faul-”

“Stop. Let me finish,” you whine as you put your finger up to his lips. “You’re a goddamn idiot. And I want you to be mine.”

“The fuck? You mean tha-”

This time you put your hand flat against his mouth. “Shut up! For one second! I’m in love with you Kats. I want to go on actual dates. I want to have you as the lock screen on my phone so when people ask I can tell them about my wonderful boyfriend. I want to wake up and know you’re still there from the night before so we can go on walls to go get coffee together. I want you.” Finally dropping your hand so he can reply, Katsuki is speechless. His jaw has fallen open a little and his eyes have softened immensely. For the first time since you’ve know him, he doesn’t know what to say.

“Yes. Fuck…yes. I’ll be yours- Jesus fuck just- You be mine? Okay? You’re mine?” You’ve never see him stumble over his words like this and it unleashed butterflies deep inside you. You just nod at him, to which he gives you the kind of smile you’ve never seen from him before. It’s a smile of actual joy, admiration, and love.

You lean forward to press your lips against each corner of his mouth. After that you put yourself close to his ear and softly whisper to him, “I’m yours Kats. I’m all yours.”

• • •

@babycheech

[valentine-cafe]

hi!! how have yall been!?

villain hubbies trying to make it up to reader after they had a nasty fight and accidentally said some nasty things

˖⁺. ﹙ multi monster villains  x gn reader. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . forgive me baby !! 🍒 :  villains ˖ monster character

your villanous husband attempts to apologise after an arguement in which he said some awful things. . . how does he go about it?

𖹭. ps : we've been great ! hope this is to your liking <3

﹙ Haoyu 9948v. ﹚. . . bloodshed of those you resent !! 🍓 : He was well aware of how mad he had made you.

A part of his twisted mind found great pleasure in it, however, at the same time he knew he could not return to the manor without making it up to you somehow. You were far too upset now. . . and he did value your affection, afterall.

So an idea popped into his head!

What better idea than to haunt those who have hurt you throughout your life. Each head making a loud thud against the floor, blood painting the walls and floorboards so beautifully. Oh you’d scream at the sight but to him the colour of crimson reminds him of his love for you.

Greedy hands snatch any and all belongings that would look stunning in your presence. Jewellery, your favourite kinds of cups, cutlery, clothes— anything.

His face met yours in the doorway to his abode. Smile bright and full of bliss as he trots inside with the mixed belongings in his hand.

“I know you’re still mad at me. . . but, I got you such precious items and surprises. Could we speak it out whilst you unpack my presents for you, baobei?”

꒰ phantom ˖ yandere character ꒱

 

﹙ Herrera husbands 209. ﹚. . . a tango of the ages !! 🍒 : arguments with you usually leave them quiet after. The both of them leaving you to your own devices for a while. They want to give you time and when they can see you want to talk it out, they approach.

Rishen is the first to murmur out a quiet apology after your own. Her thumbs settling on your cheeks to stroke across them gently.

“You know we never meant any of what we said, too, cariño.” She sighs, leaning her forehead against yours, while Jìngyí sways you both from side to side gently. Settling behind you.

“It was taken too far this time.” You whisper quietly in response to the apologies. To which they both agree.

“We know. . .” The doctor muffles into your shoulder, pressing a kiss to it before swinging you into dance together with his wife.

“But let us make it up to you, baobei. Would you have this dance with us for a while?”

“Only if you take me out for dinner after.” You chuckle, earning mutual sounds of amusement from the other two.

“Then that is a deal.”

꒰ snake monster ˖ mad doctor character ˖ mad scientist ˖ spider-mantis-moth character ˖ yandere characters ꒱

 

﹙ Hàoyu 1311. ﹚. . . manipulative charm !! 🍓 : darling would you listen to me?” your husband croons into your ear. Yet you push him off of your shoulder and huff. Getting away from the dinner table.

“Leave me be.” The grunt makes him tilt his head in dissappointment.

With a small sigh, he rolls his eyes and smiles softly. Following after you. Usually he values your privacy and your need to be alone. But he could clearly see you did not want to be left alone.

“We both know you don’t want me to leave you be, don’t lie.” He calls out, following you into your bedroom and leaning against the doorframe. Dioxazine gaze softened as it scans each and every little move you make.

“I want to be alone.” You insist, and look back at him. That beautiful tearstained face of yours. . . His sadistic urges make it incredibly difficult to not find the sight of you being hurt and upset a little bit adorable and endearing.

“Then let that be it.” He hums and shrugs, as if your emotions were nothing to him. You’ll come crawling back to him in no time.

And you do, gripping onto his arms as you let out quiet sobs for him not to go.

What perfect oppertunity to turn around and wrap his arms around you in tight apology.

“Let’s talk, baobei. . .” His words sneak into your ear with such ease. It doesn’t matter how many times you try to run from it. This man will always make you fold.

꒰ demon ˖ casino owner character ꒱

 

﹙ Alessio 1311. ﹚. . . sweet songs !! 🍒 : Your ears caught sound of the familiar strumming of guitar strings the second you stepped back into your shared apartment with your husbands.

Jìngyí had been the one to take you out with him after the argument you had with Alessio. The serpent man had only just arrived at the end of it, his milky white eyes catching sight of your tears spilling out your eyes were enough to whip you away and glare at the other man.

“Oh how precioussss.” Jìngyí sighs in slight sarcasm and makes his way towards the kitchen to put down the groceries you two got on your way home.

Almost instinctively, you walk into the bedroom to meet Alessio, his magenta eyes focused on the guitar strings. Long fingers work away at them to make melodies that could please the heavens.

“Alessio?” You mutter out. The call of your husband’s name immediately taking his eyes’ attention away from the instrument held delicately in his hands.

His lips are pulled into a slight frown. Gaze full of apology and regret that weighed heavy upon him, despite the hours that have gone by while you were out.

“Ah. . . Amor—” The bed creaks out in protest as he gets off of it and using it as a lean to support his guitar.

“I’m so sorry about earlier. . . Did fangyi and you have a good time?”

You look at him and then at the instrument, then back up.

“Were you making a song?” The sigh of amusement immediately made his attention direct back to the bed, his magenta eyes averting any contact yours attempted to make with them.

“You loooove meeeeeeee,” you start, only to be silenced when his hand claps over your mouth and he smiles.

“You wanna hear it?”

꒰ rockstar ˖ arsonist ˖ mecenary character ꒱

 

﹙ Jìngyí verseless. ﹚. . . little forget-me-nots !! 🍒 : And yet, the demon alchemist of the abhorration knew how to twist it into a potion of forgetting. With words of the argument whispered into the mix, so that the rest of your memories would be stored.

The argument never happened in the first place. His guilt was gnawing away at his demonic bones already that he had even argued with you in the first place.

So he mixed the small vial of liquid into your favourite drink and gave it to you.

Despite the huff of irritation you made as he handed you the cup. It all came down your throat. Sip by sip, you slowly began to forget why you had even felt angry. Until you didn’t even remember you’d been angry.

All you remembered was his loving gaze at you as you both shared a cup of tea. His smile and those devilish hands stroking at your knuckles.

“Tell me more about that costumer from earlier, an angel, you said?” He strikes up a new conversation.

“Right! That’s what I forgot to tell you. So this angel—”

꒰ demon ˖ necromancer ˖ alchemist ꒱

[lukeynewtssimp]

When Nic is out and about with her bf all I see from Lukolas is pure hate and disdain for them both. It’s only now that the man brought out his gf that suddenly everyone is okay with it. Does that seem like equal treatment to you? Where was your defense before this?

You’re happy and proud of him for finally claiming her but where is the happiness for Nic? I’m still talking about Lukolas in general.

Do you not see the people saying he’s finally with someone well matched with him? And when people said the same hateful things after premiere night because of that stunt where was the support for Nic? You think his choices didn’t affect her, whether it was intentional or not?

This side of the fandom is extremely male-centered and you just don’t want to admit it. I am still very much hoping to be proved wrong in the future.

Wow okay there is a lot to unpack here.

Let me start by saying that my blog is very new. I only started posting like a month or so ago so excuse me for my lack of defence back when Nic apparently “needed” it.

Neither of them “need” anybody to defend them lol. We don’t get brownie points for proving we are their number one fan. They literally have no fucking clue who I am and don’t care to find out either. I just use my platform to express my love for the people I am a fan of and the things I am passionate about and to express my frustration at things and behaviours that annoy me. That’s the point of having a personal blog.

idk how to make it any clearer. Like it’s literally in my username, yea I am a fan of Nicola too but I’m a bigger fan of Luke. We all have our faves so I don’t get why you’re so angry that Luke is mine.

Yes I see the very small number of people making comments like that about Antonia looking good next to Luke or whatever. I choose to ignore it because I have seen a very small number of these comments and me talking about it would only amplify these pathetic people’s voices. I obviously do not agree with this take. It is rooted in fatphobia and those people can say whatever they want but they do not speak for Luke or Nic.

Nic is not some self conscious young girl waiting for a man to notice how beautiful she is. The fact that you think Luke’s decisions about who he’s dating affected her, then you’re the problem. You’re the one painting Nicola as this desperate girl crying for attention. Nic is a confident and very sexy woman and she fucking owns it and knows it. She literally ruled 2024 and has gained so much popularity last year as she deserves. And you know what? Luke knows it too and that man, unlike what you and other people think, is not and was never ashamed to show that he’s attracted to her and finds her beautiful and sexy and smart and talented. He’s not the most talkative when it comes to that stuff, that man literally blushes at everything. But his actions speak louder than his words. Just because he is dating a woman who doesn’t look like Nic does not mean he does not find Nic attractive and it also does not mean he rejected Nic by doing so.

As @jenhack beautifully put in the comments: Nic is not bothered! She is busy talking to other SAG nominees and being lauded by her peers. She does not need to, or have to be defined by any man she is connected with.

Crazy Lukolas do not only hate on Jake and Nic but they also hate on Luke and Antonia. Have you seen all the nasty stuff they have called this poor girl?

Sorry this has been very long but I just need everybody to stop projecting their hurt feelings and traumas on Nicola and Luke PLEASE!

PS: the “you” is not just aimed at you specifically anon, but everybody who agrees with that discourse of Luke hurting Nic by dating another woman and taking her to the premieres that I am tired of hearing about. And let’s not forget Nic took Jake to that premiere too…

[howlionj]

kinda want to imagine alternative reality where rorke and elias start dating. just a little treat for myself i guess.

their first break together at walker's home at summer with both david and logan. rorke stays at guest room on a first floor of the house – far from master's bedroom and boys' rooms on the second. quite an uncomfortable change considering they mostly stayed together in one room, but it's not like he has any saying in this decision.

he is introduced as a 'good friend' by elias, but gabriel can sense that at least david not buying it. nevertheless, he introduces himself and logan, heavily implying that they both goes only by their full names. rorke nods at him, silently promising to remember that. elias is visibly unanxious during whole introduction and carefully studies all three of them.

'it went better than i expected,' walker says after the brothers went wandering in nearby woods.

'what you'd expect?'

'hostility, i think'

well, gabriel expected it too. him being literally no one to david and logan and suddenly appearing right at the start of their summer break? tragedy for any teenager. also, elias mentioned before that after tragic death of his wife there haven't been a lot of guests in walker's house for a while, so current situation might be stressful for the boys. he must be cautious and careful with them.

well, it goes that boys are more capable to handle rorke than he thought.

david is only fifteen, but he catches on things pretty easily and fast. gabriel to his dissatisfaction find out it late and not at fluttering time. he was smoking outside in the woods – elias told him that it's okay for his partner to smell like a tobacco company, but not for his furniture. so to the woods he went.

david approached him right after he put his cigar out on the sole of his boot with a determined expression on his face.

'i know you're dad's boyfriend,' he said loudly to assert himself.

'well, i'm quite old for that term, but you're right. what gave us away?'

'dad looks at you all mushy and soft, it was simple'

'yeah, sounds like elias'

'we are not against it. me and logan'

gabriel chuckled as david explained how progressive they both are.

'good to know'

'and we don't think you're replacement for mom'

it was a delicate moment for david, rorke knew it by the way boy went silent for a second.

'i hope you don't. it is not my intention to be one'

'good to know'

he when leaved back to the house, not saying anything.

and logan is two years younger, but as observant as his brother. not if more. gabriel was mowing grass in the backyard when youngest walker went straight to him with a notepad and sharpie. on the paper there were simple question, written messily:

"why do you wear bandana?"

rorke barked loudly surprised by a sudden question.

'i'm old, bald and ugly, that's why'

logan noded and wrote another sentence.

"you're all this thing with bandana on too"

he laughed at the comment - it seems that elias' witty mind popped up in logan.

'fair point, logan. actually, i wear it to hide a scar'

boy noded and fastly wrote another words:

"a battle scar? like ones dad has?"

'yeah, something like this'

"can i see?"

'well, i used to scare a lot of greens with it, your dad too. are you sure?'

logan noded intensely, signing something with his hands. elias mentioned before that logan after his mother death lost his voice and heavily relies on asl. improvidently for gabriel to not learn basics.

'sorry, kid, i don't speak asl'

logan simply pointed at his head.

'okay, i get. but be ready - it is a really nasty scar'

he untied the bandana and went on his knees to better display of his head. youngest walker stood on his toes and then excitedly sighed.

and like his brother he just left away, saying or writing nothing.

maybe, it was not a bad idea to visit elias family.

[tactical-jellyfish]

The Mistakes That Have Been Made

Part 2.5 (bonus for the people. I think you guys need some good soup, from moi <3)

Warnings!: Angst, angst, and more angst. Reader will be MAD sad for most of this. Poorly-practiced, unhealthy polyamory. Reader will experience a LOT of gender and body dysphoria over the course of this (though I will do my best to keep it gender-neutral throughout, bear with me), but there WILL be comfort over that.

The team dynamics of the 141 have always been messy, ugly things, but this is ugly. You wouldn't wish it on anyone, really.

When you'd walked back to your own room, you'd heard Soap railing the daylights out of Gaz, cussing your name beneath his breath as the other sergeant groaned, high and throaty.

As awful as this feels, at least he's not doing that to you.

Johnny's always been a bit of a... rough bed partner, you know that, he's so eager to get into the heat of it that he never gives himself the time to warm up or cool down. Tends to be so enthusiastic that he doesn't offer much aftercare before he falls asleep, either.

Still, walking past Gaz's room brings back memories of that nasty, sick feeling that follows every intimate experience you've ever had.

It's the feeling that your body is somehow wrong, too tight in some parts and too loose in others, like the very existence of your form is a contradiction that just can't stand a second longer.

The way you hold your laptop shifts, pressing the metal into your chest to somehow remedy this ill. How? You're not sure. It doesn't work very well.

You try to shake it off as you open your door and sit on your bed, but the moans still breach your walls.

God, since when did Gaz sound like that? It feels like it's choking the air out of the room.

You put your best effort toward minding your own business, but you felt like you were losing your mind a half-hour into that endeavor, and instead thumped your fist on the wall, loud enough to send the message. Learning how to sign and trying to ignore... that was simply not a feasible task.

The moaning and creaking stops shortly after, and the sigh you heave is like no others, though you know damn well those two will definitely be pissy with you tomorrow.

Finally.

Plastic buzzing against the "wood" of your nightstand (shitty plywood painted white, as is standard issue) draws your focus away from that, if only for a second.

Heyhey! Do u wanna train together tmrw?? I think you'd do good if you took it easy w/me 😊 <33

The rubber and plastic of your case isn't all that comfortable in your hands, but you hold the magical little glass box in your hands anyway, peering down at the screen before chuckling to yourself.

Why should I?

Is your reply. It doesn't strike you that it might have been a bit on the nose, or that Gary might have read it differently, until the text bubble appears and disappears several times in a row, and you re-read it.

Oh no, you sound like an absolute asshole.

Sorry. I do want to, I just wanted to tease.

He's typing for another few seconds, before the bubble disappears one more time, and it starts to make you panic. More than you want to be panicking over him.

Don't be mad please, I'm sorry. I want to train with you.

How the mighty have fallen.

Look at you, desperately prostrating yourself before a rookie because you're absolutely moronic, praying that he'll offer you a reply. Whatever happened to four times the love?

Fuck. Don't think about that.

im not mad, ur fine just thought you might be a little grouchy from the meds or smth, wasnt sure if i should ask

You breathe a real sigh of relief at the returned messages, already more than tired by the day, but slightly soothed as you look down at the blue light of the screen, and send your last message of the day.

I'll see you at 0630. Goodnight.

A little red heart appears over your message, in the top left corner of the rounded bubble.

You plug in your phone and try to ignore how something in your chest squeezes at being deemed worthy of making plans more than two hours in advance.

It's a shockingly new thing, but goodness does it feel good, even if it brings on a sting of a more somber feeling.

Gaz and Soap sure as fuck didn't do this. Ghost either. You never expected Price to do that for you in the first place. Did they just... not think you were enough to make plans for? Was this pity?

You try to shake off the feeling as you bunch your blankets around your body, allowing your tired form to sink into the mattress and rest. The morning will clear your thoughts.

First | Previous | Next

[undercvrfan444]

Shy!reader who wears a different uniform skirt in order to get Bully!Satoru’s attention and it works a little too well. He starts flipping up the back of her skirt when he walks past her to ruffle her feathers a bit. (he might have snuck a picture of two of what you looked like under that fabric.)

Bully!Satoru who continues to write you small notes and slip them in your bag but they’ve become nastier than before. Having things written on them like

“What a shame it would be for those pretty panties to be torn open with my cock stuffing your pussy to the brim.”

or

“Don’t you know prancing around in short skirts is just an invitation for me to do whatever I want to you?”

Bully!Satoru who continues tripping you when walking in the halls. This time though, it’s because he wants to press his hard erection into the plush feeling of your ass. He’ll lean down innocently so people don’t suspect him, “been thinkin’ of that gooey cunt all day bunny.”

Bully!Satoru who comes over occasionally to “help with homework” and always starts the session off with bruising the back of your throat so you can barely speak the next day.

This way he can purr nasty nothings into your ear and all you’re able to do is listen and take it.

Bully!Satoru who steals your lunch forcing you to come crying to him. “Beg me real nicely bunny, and i’ll give your lunch back.” But when you embarrass yourself by begging him kindly he gives you the box back to find it’s been eaten leaving you hungry and disappointed.

Bully!Satoru who is called out all the time for somehow finding a way to talk about you to his friends. Suguru teases you about it too when he can!

“So you’re the pretty little thing Satoru is hung up on?”

Two dark eyes rake over the little uniform that adorned your body. “He wasn’t lying about you.” And with that Suguru walked off, simply leaving you with a dumbfounded look.

Shy!Reader who stops Satoru in the hallway the next time you see him with an aggravated expression on your face. Your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you pushed a hard finger into the man’s chest. “What did you say about me to Suguru?”

Satoru’s shocked face pulls into a coy smile, eyes narrowing so he can lean into your space. “Why? I didn’t tell him anything that wasn’t true.”

“What did you say Satoru!”

Hearing his name on your lips sends shivers down his spine, loving how upset you were. His voice dropped lower, seeing how many people were turning heads to see where the commotion sourced from.

His lips graze the thin skin of your ear. “I told him how good your pussy feels around my dick. Told him about the way your face would scrunch up when you were about to c-“

A sharp *Slap!* echoed between you. Tears pour from your eyes at the embarrassment, angry at the misogynistic things Satoru said about you. It was hard to think of all the things you’ve done with Satoru knowing he must’ve told Suguru at some point. It felt invasive.

Bully!Satoru who felt like shit after you left. He couldn’t peel his eyes away from your back as you hurried out of school, away from the staring eyes. He knew he fucked up bad when you refused to answer his texts over the next few days, leaving him either on read or delivered.

He couldn’t stand the distance any longer. Saturday finally rolled around after you missed two days of school. The two days that you were gone felt like hell to him, whispers about what might’ve happened to make you slap him caused a certain edge to stick around. Satoru made his way to your house, knocking softly on the front door hoping you would listen to what he had to say. He could hear your feet pad up to the door watching the knob turn softly.

“Satoru?”

“Hi bunny,” his words are sugary sweet. You’ve never seen such an apologetic expression on Satoru’s face and honestly it was shocking to see him so flustered.

Shy!Reader who lets the Satoru into your house, reluctant yet willing to hear what he has to say. Truthfully you miss the handsome boy more than you’d like to admit despite him embarrassing you.

Bully!Satoru who follows you up to your room, pulling you against his chest with an “ompf!” the second he heard your door close. He’d never tell anyone this, but seeing you so angry with him ate him alive. At first he thought it was cute! The little attitude you wore was adorable until it morphed into stomach-churning disappointment aimed towards Satoru.

“I’m so sorry bunny, I had no idea it would bother you so much that I said those things to Suguru about us. The last thing I want is for you to think all I want you for is some stupid shit, let me make it up to you.” Softly his fingers curl into the smooth fabric of your shirt attempting to squish you further into him.

Silence fills the room like a thick blanket. Your heart beat rapidly against Satoru’s own; thoughts running wild while his expensive cologne wafted in your senses.

“It’s okay ‘toru.” slivers off of your lips before you can think.

Bully!Satoru who spends the rest of his day with you. First going to watch whatever movie you want to, buying every snack he could possibly think of even if you didn’t eat it just because he can.

You wanted to walk in the park? done.

Go browse a book store? he bought everything you touched.

Tired of being social? Satoru walked you home as he listened to you talk passionately about the description of your new books.

Bully!Satoru who begs for forgiveness through pulling your panties to the side and pressing sloppy kisses to your pretty cunt. Respectful pecks turn into haughty thrusts of his tongue, pushing your sticky walls apart. His moans tickle your thighs fervently while you squeeze his shoulders attempting to ease the building pressure in your lower belly. Satoru was a man after all, and he knew the cherry on top to his apology would be eating your pussy until slick dripped down his face.

Shy!Reader whose head was so fuzzy from the multiple orgasms, you let Satoru guide you into bed as the sun set. Once he’d finally cleaned up there was no stopping the rain of smooth kisses on your face. “I love you, bunny.”

“I love you to ‘toru.”

[avaredava]

⯌ Sweet spot ⯌

୨୧・・・・୨୧

MDNI

Master list

⯌ Sum

Toge Inumaki uses his cursed speech during doing the nasty (✿^‿^)

⯌ Wc

1.5k

⯌Warnings

NSFW, explicit sexual content, strong language, dominance/submission, praise & degradation kink, possessiveness, mild voyeurism, power imbalance, explicit commands, rough sex, edging/teasing, orgasm control.

୨୧・・・・୨୧

You and Toge have been dating since you were first years and now both of you are 3rd years. Many get confused why the hell both of you were dating. The social butterfly and the boy that can barely talk. It really didn''t make any fucking sense.

But somehow, it worked.

You, the loud and energetic one, always buzzing with excitement, and Toge, the quiet yet deadly sorcerer who spoke in cryptic onigiri ingredients. People looked at the two of you like you were a mismatched puzzle—one piece bright and chaotic, the other cool and subdued.

"It doesn’t make any fucking sense," was a phrase you heard more times than you could count.

But to you? It made perfect sense.

Because Toge didn’t need to say much.

His actions spoke louder than words ever could.

The way he always made sure you ate first before touching his own food, even if you weren’t hungry. The way his hand would instinctively reach for yours when you walked side by side, fingers tracing idle patterns against your palm. The way he’d pull you into his arms after missions, inhaling your scent like it was the only thing grounding him to reality.

And when he did use his voice?

"Careful." His way of telling you to watch your back.

"Rest." When he knew you were pushing yourself too hard.

"Mine." Low and husky against your ear, when he felt possessive, when he needed you to know exactly who you belonged to.

It worked because when the world was too loud, Toge found comfort in your presence. And when you needed peace, he was your silent sanctuary.

So, let them be confused. Let them wonder why the hell you were together.

Because neither of you ever had to question it.

_

No one ever understood how you and Toge worked.

You, the vibrant, expressive one—always filling the room with light and laughter. Him, the quiet, reserved sorcerer whose very presence demanded attention even without saying a word. People never understood how you could be together.

But if they saw you now—if they saw the way he controlled the room with just his eyes, the way you responded with nothing more than his whispers, the way you broke for him in the most intimate, all-consuming way—

They’d get it.

Because Toge didn’t need to speak much.

Just one word from him, and you’d be undone.

"Kneel."

You didn’t hesitate, didn’t question him. You moved swiftly, crawling onto the bed, feeling the sheets shift beneath you as you positioned yourself—just like he wanted. The anticipation was suffocating, thick, and palpable, the air thick with tension as you waited for him, hands resting on your thighs, back straight, eyes lowered.

Toge stood in front of you, watching you, not moving, just taking you in. His presence was overwhelming, his silence both commanding and intimate. The way he observed you, like he was memorizing every inch, every subtle shift of your body, was enough to have your pulse racing.

Finally, he stepped forward, his hands trailing over your shoulders, down your arms, tracing the delicate curves of your body with deliberate slowness. His fingertips brushed the side of your neck, sending a shiver through you as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

"You look so beautiful."

The praise hit you harder than you expected. It sent a wave of heat straight to your core, leaving you breathless as he guided you back to the center of the bed, gently pushing you to lie down. He followed, his body moving with a predator’s grace, settling between your legs with a predatory calm.

"Open for me."

You didn’t hesitate, legs parting as your breath caught in your throat. The moment you were exposed, vulnerable, he hovered—not touching, not yet—just watching you, his hands resting by your sides, keeping you in place. Your body trembled beneath him, the anticipation of what was to come almost too much to bear.

Then, slowly, he moved.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your throat, slow and lingering, like he was savoring the moment. His lips traveled down your chest, brushing over your collarbone, each touch agonizingly slow, intentional, teasing. His tongue traced your skin, exploring every inch with the precision of someone who knew exactly how to drive you to the edge.

You gasped as his lips hovered over your breasts, teasing, just barely skimming against the fabric of your bra. He didn’t touch you fully yet—just the softest brushes, leaving you begging for more. Your hands gripped the sheets, nails digging into the fabric as your body arched, pushing toward him.

"Patience."

His voice was low, gravelly—firm. The command sent another pulse of heat through you, the need to feel his touch so intense it made your head spin. But he held you there, suspended, testing your restraint, your obedience.

His lips moved lower, kissing your stomach, his breath warm and slow against your skin. Every inch of you felt heightened under his touch, every brush of his lips making your whole body tremble with anticipation. When he finally reached the waistband of your pants, you whined, desperate for him, your hips involuntarily shifting.

"Hold still."

You froze, biting your lip to keep from moaning. His hands, now shaking with the same restraint, slowly undid the button of your jeans, the sound of it snapping open filling the room with an unbearable tension.

But he didn’t rush.

His hands worked carefully, deliberately, pulling your pants off with excruciating slowness. He placed each piece of clothing aside like it was the most precious thing, each motion calculated to prolong the inevitable.

When you were fully exposed before him, he didn’t touch you immediately.

He just watched.

His gaze was heavy, intense, almost possessive, as though he were memorizing the way your body reacted to his every move. His eyes trailed over your body, pausing at every little tremor, every breathless sound that left your lips.

"You’re perfect."

The words fell from his lips like a promise, soft, yet heavy with meaning.

Then, finally—finally—his hands reached for you, tracing the line of your inner thighs, teasing, never quite giving you what you wanted. His fingers brushed against the softest part of you, and you gasped, flinching at the light touch, the delicate build-up.

His fingers grazed over your folds, slow, deliberate, intense, as though he were savoring every second. The pleasure was deliciously slow, each touch pulling you deeper into a pool of heat, a delirious need that you couldn’t escape.

"So wet for me. Slut."

The praise went straight to your head, clouding your thoughts, making your breath ragged as his fingers slipped deeper, pressing, curling in a way that had you gasping, your hips moving of their own accord. His thumb found your clit, circling, teasing, pulling moans from your lips as his rhythm matched the desperate need inside you.

"Beg for me."

The command was soft, but there was an undeniable power behind it—demanding. Your whole body shivered in response, and before you could stop yourself, the words spilled from your lips.

“Please, Toge, I need you.”

His eyes met yours, dark and satisfied, as he slowed, his fingers pulling away, leaving you panting, desperate.

"Tell me how bad you want it."

Your chest heaved with each breath, your hands gripping the sheets as you tried to catch your breath. You nodded, barely able to speak through the rush of heat coursing through your veins.

“I need you so bad. Please, Toge, I can’t… I can’t wait any longer.”

His lips curled into a slow, satisfied smirk.

"Good girl."

And with that, he finally pushed into you.

The stretch was exquisite, every inch of him filling you, pressing you to the brink of pleasure and pain. You cried out, your nails digging into his back, but he didn’t stop. He kept you still, immobile beneath him as he drove into you slowly at first, each thrust deliberate, controlled, pulling you apart with each movement.

"You feel so good."

His voice was a low growl as his rhythm increased, his hips moving harder, deeper, as your body melted under him, surrendering completely. The heat built, coiling tighter and tighter with each stroke, the pressure growing unbearable. You could barely breathe, could barely think with the way he moved inside you, pulling every gasp, every sound, from your throat.

And when you were finally teetering on the edge, when you were lost, unable to hold on any longer, he drove into you harder, faster—relentless—as he spoke, his voice firm, leaving no room for doubt.

"Come for me."

The moment the words left his lips, your body exploded, pleasure shattering through you, leaving you gasping, whimpering, your body writhing beneath him. He followed right behind you, his own release wracking through him as he buried his face in your neck, his voice low, like a secret only the two of you shared.

For a long time, neither of you moved. The air was thick with the aftermath, your breathing heavy, your limbs tangled as he gently held you against him, his fingers tracing soft circles over your skin.

"I love you."

The words came without hesitation, without any power behind them. Just a truth, a simple, undeniable truth that hung between you.

And in that moment, you knew. Nothing else mattered.

୨୧・・・・୨୧

This sucks 😭

[theoneandonlysemla]

Sujamma Sundas!

Thank you for the tag @skyrim-forever 💞

Tagging: @dirty-bosmer @friend-of-giants @firefly-factory @illumiera @hircines-hunter @lillxart @ladytanithia @pocket-vvardvark @rakaiawriter @sheirukitriesfandom @sanza-17

Topic: This week, Sujamma wants to know about YOUR OC's special someone. What makes their relationship special? How did they meet? Were they enemies to lovers? Lovers to enemies? Lovers AND Enemies? Are they romantic or platonic? What's their favorite way to cuddle? Favorite date night? Anything and everything you can think of 💕

Ohhh, do I need to decide who I'll be talking about here? Can I talk about all my main couples? :P

Let's start with Nevri and Morotar. What makes them special is him being a detestable cunt and her being the one to hit him on the head for it. They actually got to know each other because he saved her and Canmal's life when they were attacked by Boethiah's cultist. Back then he was "a mercenary" and travelled with them back to Winterhold, where they decided to hire him for getting Goldbrand. And while travelling, Nevri did fall for his looks and cunty character and the rare times he can be nice :P (She's vulnerable, okay??) One thing comes to another and after they got closer, everything falls apart. With DwD 2 their story goes on, Morotar has a severe loss of memories but as their paths cross again, he does one thing: he knows her. A lot of pushing away from her follows until they do get closer again (she has good reason for that) while he will utterly fall for her 😩❤️ I don't know how their story will end and what will come of them, but I love to picture them together in a calm future. Anyway, I guess they go like: strangers -> reluctant friends -> lovers -> enemies -> strangers -> whatever the fuck that mess is they are in in part 2 Thinking about it, they'd love to cuddle in a bed and have their peace together and I often picture how Nevri washes his hair and he does enjoy that so much because someone cares for him. Their idea of a date night might be sparring or something :P

Going on with my favourite toxic couple: Ancano and Faralda! These two idiots started out as... let's call it colleagues and the entire thing became a secret work place romance at the College of Winterhold. Until Ancano's toxic ass fucked up big time after gaslighting the shit out of Faralda and cheated on her with Nirya. Nirya does thing she has won, but ... the price is foul🤢 Anyway, they do have a toxic rebound after Ancano got stabbed by a certain Dunmer woman mentioned in the text before. For Faralda is really is the last time this has happened, until she sees him being a yearning mess for her and decides to play with him. Currently, we're at the phase where her sadism really spirals out of control (good for her). As they do not have a traditional relationship, I'd say their idea of a date is a little strange. Ancano would like to have her only for him and longs for her attention. He'd cuddle with her after sex, to keep the appearance that it means more to him but he's not really a cuddler. After he cheated in her, Faralda does want to cuddle with anyone but him :P Her perfect idea of a date is her throwing rocks at him ❤️

And here we are with my most fucked up couple, that is poor Ria and Mannimarco. Hell, she chose the worst man. But my bf likes to argue that Ancano is worse because he's racist and Mannimarco is too egocentric to be really racist 😆 Well, let's see. She is absolute delulu and unhappy in the place she is now, serving a group of men (ew) in a dilapitating fort. And there comes her worm knight in shining armour... or red cloak... to her rescue. He infiltrates her brain until she falls for him and she is absolutely and utterly in love with him. Too bad that he sees her as his little experiment. But that does not hold him back from fucking the lab rat. He's nasty like that ❤️ You could say, it is a very romantic gothic horror lovestory that I'm crafting there and so their ideal date would be basically what I've written in chapter two, just having sex in a fairy ring under the moonlight. And for Manni it may include feeding her corpses and counting how many maggots he can pull out of her orifices. Well... yeah. That's that!