#(on the FAINTEST technicality)

[dreamcrow]

speaking of dumb, shmoopy ship art

[nessvn]

good morning i haven't slept a wink and have decided to once again test the limits of my incredibly conservative work dress code with the mildest suggestion of eyeliner

[dappy-dappernette]

Aaaugh ngl sometimes it's hard to find artists to follow because 90% of them draw your NOTP, especially when your current fave is a half of that NOTP, and most of the people drawing him are fans of said ship.

Obviously no shame to them, ship what you want as long as children aren't involved with adults but like- Still.

[yrlocalghost]

“bangs era” is crazy to me. i have had bangs since i was a child and i will have bangs forever. if i ever do not have bangs assume something has gone horribly, horribly wrong

[medicinemane]

Square footage is one of those things where I just have no idea what any of it means, can't even begin to visualize it

You know how big my house is? I don't

That's not some kind of joke, I literally have no clue. I knew I liked the house and it was the only affordable place in the state, and I know it's big and it's crazy it was cheaper than a lot of the 3 bedroom stuff in town (though this needs more work than those do), but... I literally, and I mean literally can't tell you how big it is

I don't even know what counts as big in square feet. Is 1000 square feet big? Small? No clue

Just literally... zero idea

[pearlymel]

"The Masks We Wear"

Summary: as a journalist, you are itching to find the identity of this mysterious hero. But could it be that the hero is closer to you than you think?

Wc: 7.3k eat up

Warnings: Wriothesley x afab!reader, gn! reader, modern au, hero and villian au (one of each), reader is a journalist/cameraman, fluff, making out, crack (i laughed a lot writing this), angst (oops), one small sex scene, slightly under the influence, cursing, it's pretty unrealistic, petnames used: sunshine, love, and sweetheart.

Notes: i poured my heart and soul into this, i think it's my best piece so far ^^ give it a chance, maybe you'll love it. (Pleasepleasepleaseplease) Rbs are greatly appreciated!

Credits: banner art by the great @/danijaci

Click!

The city is absolutely beautiful today. No, no. It’s not because of the lights that makes the place brighter and a bit more magical, how it seems livelier with a group of teenagers laughing together while buying street foods together, or the old couple that seem still very much in love, the gentleman kneeling down and tying her shoes just to make sure she wouldn’t trip this time.

Humans can be cute, you think.

But of course, among those innocent ‘humans’ are those who desire destruction.

This time, you think you might have caught something in the shadows, and you stare intently at your camera, zooming it in to see the faintest color blending in with the darkness. Hair? A part of clothes? You don’t know, but you got it.

you have this obsession of finding out who the hero of this city was, or even the villian. Although, you would be technically be walking into death if you try finding out who the villian is.

Where did this hero come from? No one knows. Sure the crime rate has lowered, but it felt like the world became even more messed up.

It all started a couple of years ago when you were in your college days, one day almost dying from a falling building, and you thought you saw the scythe waiting to take your soul at that very moment but, no.

The mysterious hero of the city that you never thought you would never encounter carried the building with his super strength power, apparently.

He who has no name, took your hand and lead you into a safer area with the police.

cliché story, right. But that’s what got you into journalism and media now.

And let’s say… you’re too far into the deep black hole to back down now.

The almost blinding light made you come back to your senses, the sounds of engine roaring in the air as the bike approached you, and your shoulders were already slumped.

“How did you find me?” You raise your voice due to the loud engine running, covering parts of your vision from the light.

“Lucky guess.” Wriothesley replied gruffly, pulling his helmet off and shaking his head slightly to fix up his messy strands.

“Care to explain what on earth are you doing here in this shady alleyway? At nine thirty where the moon is out and wolves could be coming for you?” He starts scolding you, quirking an eyebrow when you give him the bored expression, and he immediately mimics it back.

“Taking pictures.”

“Of the rats?”

“Wriothesley.” You shoot him a look and he raises his hands in the air. “I understand your… obsession. But it could hurt you in the process, mentally and physically.”

You know he’s saying all this because he cares so much about you. Loves you too much that it would break his soul piece by piece if one day what you’re doing will hurt you.

“Hop in, sweetheart.” He hands you the extra helmet, and you take it with a sigh. Securing it around your head before taking your place behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist as he revved the engine.

The whole ride back was silent, yet traffic, which entirely ruined the whole mood. With the constant car horns ringing in your ear.

You tap at his thigh to grab his attention, “Why’s it traffic?” You grumble, rising yourself from the seat to look at the row of cars trying to get through.

“Not any holidays or events i can think of,” he responds back to you.

Red mixed with orange fills your vision, suddenly the car at the very front explodes. The car parts flying in the air and landing at the other vehicles which makes you frozen in shock.

Wriothesley’s clenches his hands tightly as he turns the bike around, speeding his way far away from the scene. “Hold onto me tight, and don’t look back, you hear?” He yells enough to grab your attention, and your arms tightens around him, but you have your head turned around to see the people yelling and dashing out of the vehicles. You want to capture the moment with your phone so you could submit it in for the news, but you know more than to ignore Wriothesley right now.

It’s not rare to see destruction happen in your city, it’s just… terrifying every time anybody witnesses it.

Maybe it wasn’t an accident, maybe it was planned.

“You’re not allowed to go out after seven.” Wriothesley makes it clear to you with his firm tone as you both step inside your shared apartment, locking the apartment with a click. He then tosses his keys into a bowl on a small table, before turning to look at you.

“Are you seriously setting a curfew for me? Please. what happened was not new—”

Your face is now being cradled by his rough hands, but the way he swipes a thumb under your eyebags really makes you melt. And you forget what you were going to say when his lips curl the slightest.

“I don't want anything happening to you. Ever.” He takes you in his arms, holding you like you were the most precious thing he ever held. “I didn't mean to pressure you like that. I'd hate it if you were in the position of those injured people.”

You pat his back to reassure him that hopefully nothing like that will happen. “And, if, hypothetically, something like that happened; What would y—”

“I'll kill everyone.” he doesn't even let you continue before he answers, though the chuckle against your hair followed after makes your tense shoulders relax.

“maybe not to that extent,” he lifts your head up to lean in and press a tender kiss on your forehead.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“what is it?”

“… something or someone.”

Your boss gives you a nonchalant sharp look when you eagerly showed him the bits you managed to capture last night before you were interrupted by your great boyfriend.

His eyes squints at the more of a blurred photo that sits on the display of your camera, taking the glasses that hanged from his collar.

The sigh afterwards makes you feel discouraged when he hands you back your camera.

“i see it.” He starts and you perk up immediately.

“it looks like a blurred image of a fucking bird taking a shit on the electrical cords.” You press your lips into a thin line at his description. Too detailed of a description,

what a bastard.

It.. certainly didn't look like that.

You clear your throat, pinching the bridge of your nose to compose yourself.

“You're lucky i like your determination or you would've been fired,” he utters out in a lax tone, resting his glasses on his big bald head that you want to spill with ketchup.

“Keep looking, i need the hero's face, details, anything. Just think of the money you and i could both earn.” He seems too enthusiastic about it, showing you determination with his fists pressing together and his wide ear to ear smile.

You leave work early that day, starting your daily walk of looking around for at least two hours or—one hour?

No, Wriothesley would be too worried if you came back after… nine. Your words not his.

You need to rearrange a schedule in your head.

Step one: somehow convince your boss that you need to leave early everyday.

Step two: search every nook and cranny of the city, ask every shady person if they get to talk to the hero in person or got a glimpse of his name.

Step three: go to the dark web— is that car flying infront of you right now?!

Shit. Just why does everything have to go down wherever path you go?

The people around you panics, and you equally panic with them because you're no fucking hero to tell them to get away from that flying car.

You take your camera out hurriedly from its case that slung around your shoulder, pressing record while frantically looking around. The ground shakes, it shakes so much that it feels like an earthquake almost.

“it's him! The villian!” Someone shouts from the distance, and just like that the screams that follows are in sync.

You know why the ground shook, the street has become a battlefield for the hero and villain fighting together with all their strengths, the air is filled with tension as they both clash in an epic confrontation. The ground trembles beneath your feet again as they traded blows, sending shockwaves through the battlefield. The once tranquil street has now been transformed into a chaotic arena of power and destruction. As the battle rages on. The hero and villain continue their fight, each strike more powerful than the last, their movements a blur of speed and precision.

You try capturing anything with your camera, but your hand shakes that it was impossible. When the villian lands a powerful punch on the hero’s shoulder, sending him way back, it makes you think it's time to leave.

You run with the rest without stubbornness this time. You should've listened to Wriothesley, why did you always have to be so curious about everything?

This curiousity will kill you next after the cat.

“Taxi!” You shout, waving your hand at the yellow vehicle, but every taxi seems to ignore the people's pleas, determined to save themselves instead.

Guess it's time to burn calories and run back home.

You were a panting mess once you reached back to your comfort space, eyes zeroing at the running television in the living room. Watching the newscaster talk about today's battle and how it affected the shops and buildings.

It seems like the battle lasted twenty minutes before the villian gave up and fled away.

Your head snaps to the bathroom once you hear the sink water drip, you didn't even think if he would be here this early.

“Wriothesley,” you say breathlessly when you swing the door open, arms squeezing his side as you take a deep breath in.

“woah, easy there. What happened?” He takes you in, hand rubbing at your arm.

“i was…” nevermind. Maybe you shouldn't tell him what you have witnessed, he'll know once he checks the news.

You only realise that he was chest bared at the moment, and you furrow your eyebrows once you see a bruise on his shoulder.

“What happened?” It was your turn to ask, talking a gentle finger and running it over the bruise, earning a hiss from him.

“was changing the car oil at the repair shop.” He mumbles, gaze turning to the mirror, “then accidentally hit my shoulder once i got up.” he turns his arm, swinging it slowly.

“but you don't work at a car repair shop?”

“it's a side hustle, sunshine.”

“why didn't you tell me?” You press on, and he hangs his head low, both of his hands gripping the sink bowl.

Okay, maybe you have annoyed him a little too much now. Upon sensing your incoming apology, Wriothesley smiles at you.

“don't worry your pretty little head too much. The bruise will fade.”

“i can massage you later?” You offer, and he lets out a breathy chuckle. “You're the best.” He gives you a chaste kiss on your lips on his way out, which makes you feel a little fuzzy.

The evening gave way to the night sky, and you found yourself lying on the bed, replaying the video captured on your camera. The footage was far from perfect, shaky and lacking in clarity, but it still managed to capture fragments of the intense confrontation between the hero and the villain. You couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement as you watched the brief glimpses of the clash that had taken place earlier.

How the villian managed to blow a punch on the hero’s shoulder, sending him way back. Must've hurted.

It's almost like the same spot Wriothesley got his bruise on.

…

Wait, the same spot?  You sit up on the mattress, replaying the video on repeat of their fight.

The hero was about the same height as him, the same physique, same cake—

You shake your head, focus. Wriothesley can't be the hero, no that's impossible. He was a busy man, doing… side jobs and whatnot.

Sure he was kind, always helping everyone, even walking the neighbors dog because they got sick one day.

But then again… you never saw Wriothesley and the hero at the same time,

Or was it merely a coincidence, a random alignment of physical features?

“Sunshine?” You gasp when you snap your head up to find Wriothesley leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.

“y-yes?” You set the camera aside on top of the drawer. He moves closer, seating himself on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixated on you then glancing at he camera.

“dinner's ready.”

You nod, silence fills the room after. You know he's waiting for you tell him more, on why you were so shocked.

“was looking at the hero's pictures.”

“not mine? I'm wounded.”

You roll your eyes, a slow smile creeping up your face, and he loves it. He takes it as an invitation to lean closer, suddenly pinning you down on the bed to capture your lips with his.

It's slow, and gentle. It makes you hum softly, taking his face in your hands to kiss him back, moving your lips together until you were gasping for air.

You forget you were even suspicious of him a second ago.

Your fingers lightly trace his jawline and you feel the pricks of his growing facial hair. A small smile plays on your lips as you inform him in a soft tone, "You need to shave." Wriothesley chuckles softly, the sound warm and low. He reaches up to your hand, gently taking hold of it and bringing it to his lips, pressing a kiss on your palm. "Is that why you stopped kissing me?" He says, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "No! I find you more.. attractive. Plus it.. yeah, it feels like little needles on my face.” you admit quietly.

Wriothesley presses his face into your neck, his lips tracing soft kisses along your skin. His hands begin roving your body, each touch sending a gentle shiver across your flesh. He whispers quietly next to your ear, his voice low and smooth as he responds, "I'll shave after dinner." The sensations of his lips against your neck and his hands exploring your body mix together, creating a heady combination that heightens your senses and ignites a slow fire within you.

“I'll.. help.” You whisper, bringing both of your arms to wrap them around his back. “What a sweetheart.” he uttered out, voice muffled from trying to mold into your skin.

Your mind stops working for a second when he presses his knee gently between your legs to pull them apart, “Wriothesley, what about dinner?” You frantically ask him, tugging his hair up so both of your gazes could meet. And the almost drunken expression he has on makes you let out a shaky breath.

“later,” he drawls, his fingers tracing lazily along your sides.

Hero? Pftt, what hero? This is just your wriothesley, it's quite impossible for him to be the hero.

You snap out of your daydream when your colleague hands you a cup of coffee, he raises an eyebrow at you and you smile back awkwardly.

A sip of the coffee to get a bit of energy, but only just a bit, since too much caffeine makes you nervous.

“You filmed the crazy battle yesterday?” Your colleague sneaks from behind you, watching the video replay again on your camera.

“they do movies about them now, insane huh?”

“well atleast the hero knows he's popular.” You reply bluntly, taking anothsr sip from your hot beverage.

“flash news, someone heard that his name starts with the letter ‘W’ or som—”

You spit out your coffee all over your white attire. You both exchange surprised looks, but you quickly wipe your mouth using the back of your hand.

“where exactly did you hear that?” You get straight to the point, gesturing them to sit next to you.

“from my father's friend’s cousin sister.”

His reply makes your eyes twitch, from who and who?

“Okay…” you whisper, turning around and thinking of the utter nonsense they spouted.

“you don't believe me.” he sighed, “I've been telling this to everyone in the building but no one is believing me! Just tryna’ do my job here.”

Let's say maybe you believe him. But the dots are connecting too fast that you want to refuse from believing it.

Was your target closer to you than you had expected?

“I'm clocking out, can you cover for me today?” You inform your colleague, and he crosses his arms while eyeing you up and down.

Your roll your eyes, “I'll be the cameraman for next week. So you could get three days off.” You force a smile and they smile back enthusiastically.

Wriothesley is definitely home. Earlier than the usual time he'd be back.

Oh, he's asleep on the couch. Leaning back tiredly with an almost stern expression on, but his body seems relaxed.

Now is the time to do anything. Investigate? Go through his things without his permission? That sounded all awful… surely he's not hiding any—

“go search his things.” You furrow your eyebrows when the devil on your left shoulder speaks, it makes you rub your face in annoyance.

Then a sudden white little angel poofs on your right shoulder with a disappointed face, “no, don't do it. He's a little scary when he gets mad. But he'd never betray you!” you feel reassured at it's words and you nod in agreement.

“don't listen to it. He could hurt you if you keep it a secret.” The red devil whispers again and it makes you shiver a bit.

“he would never hurt you.” The angel frowns.

“yes he would, he's a man.”

“a good man.”

“yeah? You're no better than me, you just want that—”

“okay shut up both of you. Shoo.” You brush both of your shoulders off before taking a deep breath to brace yourself.

You'll just search his.. clothes.

You feel guilty once you pocket his jackets and pants in his side of the wardrobe, checking every hidden pocket thoroughly while glancing at the door once in a while to make sure he doesn't wake up.

As your fingers brush against his jacket, you notice an unusual sensation – a cool, metal feeling hidden underneath the fabric. Your eyes widen in surprise as you recognize it to be the form of a gun's handle. A mixture of curiosity and concern floods through you, freezing you in place.

It really is a gun. You study it carefully, turning it around and feeling it's heaviness in your palm.

But you feel your heart run out of your ribcage when two pairs of arms wrap tightly around you, his chin resting on your shoulder.

Shit.

“hi,” he whispers next to your ear, but you're too nervous to even look back at him.

“nice thing you got there.” He muses, and you feel like you're losing oxygen once he tightens his grip around you even more.

“… i just found it.” You mutter, mostly to yourself. Your head hanging too low to avoid his eyes.

“Could've just asked me, no?” He clicks his tongue, almost in disappointment.

“i have it on me because—”

“because you use it for the good, right? Because you're the hero?” Your voice is shaky when you ask, the gun in your hand shaking with you, and you're afraid to drop it.

“hero?” Wriothesley repeats, shaking you gently awake and you gasp harshly, taking in big breaths, your boyfriend immediately trying to soothe you.

it was a dream.

“you were mumbling something about a hero in your sleep. Are you okay?” He asks in concern, brushing a strand off your face. You were sweating too much for your liking.

“when did i get here?” You look around, taking your palms to rub the sleepiness off. “Right when you got off work. You slept on the bed without changing your clothes.”

Oh… so you never checked his clothes. Deciding to just sleep instead.

Your head turns back to the wardrobe, staring at it intently. Could the jacket be in the same arrangement as you found it in your dream? Or will the gun also be there?

“you're going to poke a hole through it if you keep staring.” He stifles a laugh, and you couldn't help but try to smile as well. “Drink up. Slow sips.” He offers you a glass of water, and you hold the glass firmly in your hand.

“so… what was your dream about? Even this hero appears in your dreams? Can't say I'm not jealous.”

“You'll have grey hairs too early from overthinking.” You tease, sitting upright in bed, “oh no, you already do, old man.” you frown, tracing the grey strands along with his black hair. He watches in amusement.

Wriothesley lets out a deep sigh, “give your old man a break. They're a badge of wisdom and experience,” he rests his head on your lap, nuzzling close as you massage his scalp.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Breaking news: the ‘’lola” flower shop sets on fire just three hours ago. Our dear hero saves the day yet again, protecting the old lady just in time before her shop explodes. The cause of the fire is still unknown…”

Destruction out of nowhere again. Accidents out of nowhere again.

The voice of the newscaster on the television fades away in this little diner you're in. You drive your attention away from it, instead focusing now on the Polaroid pictures laid out infront of you.

The hero always wore a mask to cover his identity, obviously. But even after watching the countless of interviews he had, the deep tone slightly matches Wriothesley’s voice, or maybe he's changing his tone on purpose. You can see it by zooming in on the video, how he's catching his breath everytime he speaks when he's just sitting down.

Asthma? Nah.

You tap your fingers impatiently on the table, this is not helping at all, and the slightest itch in your brain worsens as the time goes by.

You think about giving up on this, but the possibility of finding the answer on how or why did all of this happen is probably closer to you than you think.

“Bad guys never end with their schemes. Bunch of attention seekers.” The hero speaks on the television, and you hum curiously as the hero salutes the camera playfully before disappearing from the crowd.

Is it possible that there are multiple heros? Working all together in some basement and taking turns to go out and do a better job than the police?

Possibly, and you write down your new theories down on your little notepad.

You check your phone next, Wriothesley still hasn't answered you back from your most recent text to him.

It's nothing to worry about, but the thought that he's busy saving the city is gnawing at you.

Batman?

You shake your head again, gathering your things to stand up from your seat. You should be blunt asking him about it tonight.

It's cold. Colder than usual. Was the air conditioning on? No. But the windows are sure wide open. You look around the living room before closing the windows and curtains from the outside world, as you draw the curtains, the outside world becomes obscured, leaving the room in a soft semi-darkness.

“Wriothesley, honey?” You call out softly, peeking through the bathroom, not there. The bedroom? Nope.

That leaves the kitchen, you slowly peek your head in he kitchen, and sure enough, he was there.

Wriothesley was rubbing his face in exhaustion while mumbling words under his breath that you can't quite hear. Having one singular glass of some drink in his hand.

“hero this.. hero that..” you finally listen to his mumbles, which makes you furrow your eyebrows together.

"Wrio...?" You call out softly, flipping the switch to turn on the light. His sharp eyes immediately dart up to look at you, and you can't help but shiver under his intense stare. You let out a small gasp of surprise as he suddenly stands up, the glass in his hand slipping from his grip and shattering on the ground along with its contents.

Taken aback by his sudden movement, you instinctively take a step back as he approaches you. But before you can even register what's happening, he crashes his lips against yours in a hasty, rushed kiss. Caught off guard, you cling tightly to him, desperately seeking support to prevent yourself from toppling over.

“You love me,” Wriothesley's voice breaks through the heated kiss, his words coming out in a low, guttural groan. He grips the back of your thighs, hoisting you up against the wall and wrapping your legs around his waist. “right?” His voice holds a hint of vulnerability and desperation, as if seeking reassurance and affirmation of your feelings for him.

And when you don't answer him right away, he takes your lower lip between his teeth, nipping at it gently, “answer me.” He almost growls.

“love, what are you taking about? Are you drunk?” You ask breathlessly in concern, your lips feeling swollen.

His jaw clenches, “Why can't you say it?” he inhales your perfume, your scent filling him that it makes him groan, his mouth lavishing your neck and collarbone, leaving kisses and littering marks then soothing the area with his tongue that it makes your pant softly, pressing your face into his hair while your fingers weaving through his black-greyish strands.

“i love you,” you utter quietly, and it suddenly makes him start grinding his hardened length against you. “I'm sorry in advance, sweetheart.”

One minute you're confused about his words, and then the next he's pounding so hard into you like there was no tomorrow.

Strings of “don't leave me,” and “i love you’s,” are echoed in the air. Wriothesley's mouth moves against yours with a sense of urgency and haste, his tongue gliding and tangling with yours in a fervent dance. The bed creaks so loud underneath you that you think it might break anytime, the embarrassment of the headboard banging against the wall immediately gone once he hits your sweet spot rapidly.

Poor neighbors

"Wrio... Wriothesley?” you slowly flutter your eyes open, still in the hazy realm between sleep and wakefulness. The sunlight streams through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room, and you blink a few times as you take in your surroundings. A quiet sense of contentment washes over you as you remember the events of the night before, the memories of Wriothesley's body against yours and his lips on yours still fresh in your mind.

You prop yourself up using your elbows, only to look down at the sight of your sleeping lover with his head pressed up on your chest. You collapse back on the bed with a tired sigh.

You still couldn't understand the reasoning behind his.. desperate actions last night. He seemed so pent up and stressed, you'll forgive him this time.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• It's the day where you're covering for your colleague, being the cameraman for tonight's news. Yes, tonight.

Wriothesley would kill you if he knew you were working so late at night, but only because he cares about your safety. Good thing he's out of the city for a day.

Or he claims to be out of the city for some important work.

You press the button on your video camera, adjusting the lens to focus on the newscaster standing in front of the camera, holding the microphone with a serious expression. The news van is parked in front of a desolate, run-down neighborhood known for its high crime rate and dangerous reputation. The newscaster speaks into the camera, her eyes boring into the lens as she reports on the neighborhood.

“We are now standing in the heart of one of the most dangerous areas in the city. This neighborhood is notorious for its high crime rate and volatile atmosphere.”

Your senses are heightened at this rate and you really try to focus but the moment you hear the faint crunch of leaves, you lose composure just a bit.

Okay you're a bit scared, but as long as your workmates are he—

a group of armed gang members suddenly appear from the alleyways between the buildings, surrounding the news van and the camera crew. The newscaster, taken off guard, gasps and steps back.

The gang members brandish their weapons, circling the news crew menacingly. One of them shouts at the newscaster, waving his gun in the air. “Hold it right there, pretty lady. This is our turf! You ain’t gonna be broadcasting nothing about us!”

You're about to shit your pants for real this time.

“Drop your cameras and get outta here, or things are gonna get real ugly real fast,” he growls, and one of them points the gun right on your camera.

“I'm talkin’ to you too.”

Yeah, you're not going to fight anyone and act all big. You simply drop the camera on the ground to raise your hands in the air.

As the gang members close in on the news crew, the atmosphere is suddenly shattered by the sound of footsteps pounding against the pavement. Everyone turns to see a tall, muscular figure approaching from the distance.

It's the hero.

You watch in awe as the hero strides towards the group of armed gang members, his movements fluid and precise. With a swift swing of his fist, he lands a powerful punch on the leader's face, sending him stumbling backwards. The other gang members are taken aback by his sudden appearance and the display of force, their eyes widening in surprise and fear. They exchange nervous looks, realizing they're facing a much stronger opponent than they anticipated.

“Hey, let's go!” Your workmate calls for your name. Her hand waving at you so you could all retreat back to the van.

And before you could follow, the van explodes.

The sudden explosion catches you off guard, jolting you out of your stupor. Shouting in surprise, you recoil from the loud blast, ducking instinctively as debris and fragments fly through the air. Your colleague, sitting next to you in the van, lets out a terrified yell as the force of the explosion propels the driver backward. The van shudders and lurches from the impact, the windows shattering and various objects sent flying.

“in the building! Let's go!” All three of you dash to protect yourselves inside this tall company building.

“I will call the police,”

“but the hero is here!” the driver of the van speaks, almost yelling in frustration.

“the hero is also a human. Just a strong one. We can't rely on him—” but before you could continue, you all cover your ears once you hear gunshots come from outside.

Ohmygosh. It’s—it could possibly be Wriothesley who's getting hurt right now. What are even the chances?!

“Fine! Just call the fucking police!” The driver gives up, leaning back against the wall while breathing heavily.

You want to go out there. You want to see. It's your chance to see who the hero is if he got hurt. Just to get the crumbs of news in exchange for your life apparently.

When it grows quiet, you peek outside, “it's clear, I'll take a look—”

“No, you're not.” her hand is firm as she grips your wrist, “just let them go.” He, on the other hand, scowls.

“Be safe!” She shouts at you as you make a run for it, running down the alleyway while looking left and right.

Someone's in the area.

You dart behind the nearby dumpster, heart pounding in your chest as adrenaline courses through your veins. Hiding as best you can, you press yourself against the rough metal, trying to keep your breathing steady and quiet. Peeking out from behind the dumpster, you cautiously scan the surroundings, trying to catch a glimpse of someone nearby. For now, the area seems to be clear, but you can't shake the feeling that someone is in the vicinity, lurking in the shadows.

“Where ya at, lil’ birdie?” You cover your mouth when you hear someone speak, it sends a chill down your spine and you can feel your heart drumming in your ears.

Your sharp eyes turn to your side to find a metal rod, you don't hesitate to grab it before smacking the shit out of the guy.

No that did not happen, but you wish it did.

Instead, the minute you see his feet pass the dumpster, with a swift movement, you grab hold of both of his ankles, using your weight and leverage to pull them out from under him. He lets out a pained shriek as he suddenly loses his balance and topples to the ground, his body hitting the pavement with a thud.

Alright, you can be cool sometimes.

Stepping at his hands to hear him cry again, you run put of the place, making turns and finally spotting the hero sitting down against the building wall while panting, seemingly exhausted.

“…” you take slow steps once you approach him, looking down at him with your eyes already glistening.

This is it, you just have to confirm it.

Your hand pulls at his mask, “Wrio—”

Huh?

This…

Is not

Wriothesley.

“Ah, what the fuck?” He grunts, the blonde grabbing the mask from your hands and you take a step back.

“Elias?!” You yell out in confusion, it's your colleague that you're covering for supposedly today's shoot.

“You're the hero??”

“not a word. Scram, you freak.” he mutters, eyes diverting away from you and staring up at the roof. “The roof,” he whispers to himself, making the effort to stand back at his knees.

Is this bitch serious? He's the last person you expected to be the hero. With his stupidly arrogant and lax attitude.

You give him an almost death stare, studying his features again before making your way out.

You need to check the other people that were with you.

But when you arrive back at the building, they were gone.

Did the police arrive? You don't hear any sirens. Could they have possibly went up on one of the floors to hide?

You find yourself in the elevator next, watching as the doors close with your hands clasped infront of you nervously.

You take deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart and steady your nerves. Hey, at least there's nice elevator music.

As the elevator comes to a halt, the doors slide open with a soft ding, revealing the rooftop and the figure standing in the open space.

There's a figure standing at the edge of the building, you can see the person's silhouette clearly now, but you can't make out their features just yet.

Your steps are hesitant as you slowly approach the figure, the wind gently billowing around you. The city lights twinkle below, but your attention is entirely focused on the person standing at the edge of the roof. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever may come, and call out tentatively, "Hello?”

Your voice rings in the air, that the person's shoulders tense.

When they look around, you're met by the same blue eyes you've known for three years now.

“Wriothesley.” You whisper, in shock, breathlessly under your breath.

He's holding.. a gun? The same gun you remember seeing in your dream.

Something in his mind snaps when you turn around, in fear. Like it was a mistake to ever see him in the first place.

Wriothesley doesn’t even give himself time to think before his body suddenly reacts, suddenly reaching out and circling his hand around your wrist to forcibly tug you back.

He yanks hard enough that you lose your balance and fall against him, his other arm coming up to wrap around your shoulders, preventing you from going anywhere.

“W-wrio—”

“think it's time we talk, sunshine.” He speak into your ear.

When you try to move the slightest from his hold, he grips you around him tighter. You figure it's best to stay still for now.

“what? Are you going to kidnap me now?” You manage to chuckle out, nervously though, your voice coming out more shaky than you intended to.

“Is that going to satisfy your little fantasy? What, I should play into it and shove you into a corner, keep you under my thumb until you’re begging me to set you free? Or no… you want to be saved by the hero.”

"You know you're not helping with your case, right? You really sound like the bad guy now.”

You’ve definitely found his breaking point because that comment makes him snap.

Wriothesley suddenly whirls you around so you’re facing him before he’s pinning you against the nearest wall, his body practically covering your own.

“Well…” He whisper, raising an eyebrow calmly in the way you look being at his mercy. “Aren’t I?”

Your jaw practically hangs at his words. Is he... Playing the bad guy now?

Or was he really… not the opposite of the hero?

He sees the shiver you try so hard to suppress and smirks at that, clearly satisfied with your reaction, “What’s wrong, sunshine? Finally realize that the man you’ve been dating isn’t the hero you've obsessing over?” He chuckles.

“i… i knew it—”

“You didn’t,” he says, his tone suddenly becoming cool and firm.

Wriothesley leans forward, pressing into you so that you’re smashed between him and the wall. His hand suddenly comes up, cupping your jaw so that he tilts your chin up to look directly into his eyes.

“If you’d known, you’d never have come within twenty feet of me. You’d never have been alone with me or spent a single night in our bed.”

He's right. And you hate it. You feel betrayed, lied to, even.

It makes you rethink your life choices.

You've gotten too comfortable with him that you didn't even think about him being the villian. You've gotten too close while you were being a complete idiot.

“you hid it.”

Wriothesley laughs, the sound almost sounding cold, “of course I hid it, sunshine. I wasn’t going to just come strutting in wearing a big, red sign saying ‘look at me, I’m a bad guy!’ was I?”

You clench your fists together, “you tricked me.”

“Tricked? No.” He shakes his head slightly. “I simply… left out key details.”

“Why?”

“ah, there it is.” He steps back, giving you space to breath, to recollect your thoughts.

“why? Because the hero isn't a hero. He started all of this destruction. Why? To get fame, recognition, power, and to be seen, to look like he's doing something when he's not.” He lets out all in one breath, and you lips part again.

“four years ago when the building almost fell on you? He did that, on purpose. then saved you to make it look like he's the one that everyone needs.”

What the hell?

“Wriothesley, we were strangers to each other four years ago. How did you know?” You don't hesitate to step closer to get more answers out of him, but he only stares at you.

You swallow thickly when he draws infront of you once again, “i did this all for you, love. I-i will do everything in my power to stop him, i will kill him so you wouldn't get hurt—”

“Okay, fucker. Out of my way,” Elias, the ’hero’, suddenly barks, and without warning, a gunshot rings out. The bullet pierces through Wriothesley's shoulder, causing him to flinch and stagger backwards.

Your eyes widen in horror as you watch the scene unfold. "Wriothesley!" you cry out, watching as he turns around despite the injury and charges towards Elias.

Despite the pain he must be in, Wriothesley doesn't relent. Ignoring the gunshot wound, he barrels towards Elias with unmatched determination, closing the distance between them.

"Bastard," Wriothesley manages to grit out as he collides with Elias, knocking him off his feet and sending them both crashing to the ground.

You don't hesitate to rush forward, with adrenaline fueling your actions, you move quickly towards them as they roll dangerously close to the edge of the roof.

"Stop!" you shout, your voice filled with desperation. "You'll fall!”

And surely enough, Your two hand clamps down on Wriothesley's, desperately grasping onto anything you can to prevent him from plunging off the edge.

Meanwhile, Elias grips Wriothesley's leg, using his strength to anchor him in place. The three of you hang there, suspended over the city, Wriothesley's body along with Elias’s dangling in the air.

“Sweetheart—”

“shut the fuck up I'm not letting go.” They're both too heavy, the feel of his fingers slipping away from yours increases everytime you try to pull them up.

Elias is purposely pulling Wriothesley's leg down to drop them both, your lips quiver, crying when two of his fingers slip now.

“hey,” his voice is soothing when he calls for you.

“at least… i protected you till the very end, right?” He tries smiling but it only makes the lump in your throat grow.

“i love you.”

“Wriothesley!”

…

“Wriothesley—!” You gasp harshly when you open your eyes so wide, finding that your hand was already reaching out for nothing.

You rest your hand on your chest before leaning back on your seat.

“are you okay?” The newscaster, the friend you made, offers you her handkerchief so you could swipe the sweat off your face.

“i think… continuesly searching about this, is making you stressed.” She points out, looking at the papers and drawings splayed out on your desk.

More theories of the disappearances of the hero and villian. Not their death. Their bodies were never found.

“it's been a year.”

The realization is like a punch to the gut as you bring a sweaty palm to rub at your temples.

“This is not over.” You whisper, more to yourself than to her. “We got no more trouble. No more heroic or bad guy news. The world is back to normal, almost like they never existed huh?”

Never existed.

She then suddenly gasps, which catches you off gaurd, “are engaged??” She eyes at the gem resting on your left ring finger.

The ring you found in one of his jacket pockets when you sorted his things out.

“yeah…” you decide to drawl out before sitting upright on your seat.

“now, if you'll excuse me, i got work to do.”

You're never going to stop searching, to find another answer of the question; 'why?'

Even if it will mean risking your life this time.

[mitskicain]

navi | m.list

. ⁺ . ✦ the doghouse — ken sato x reader

© mitskicain all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.

synopsis: the two of you head back to his place and you see why the boy has soooo many fans that are crazy about him

content warning: dry humping, slight exhibitionism, fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink, denial, p in v, overstimulation

word count: 1.6k

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001: feral

Breaking news: famed baseball player of the Yomiura Giants, Ken Sato, fucks like a god. And my god, did you have to experience it to believe it.

After the exchange at the bar, the two of you headed back to his place on his bike, barely big enough for the two of you. It’ll fit, he insisted, handing you a helmet. You took your place in front of him, in between his legs—your chest to his back, and the two of you set off. But here’s the thing about riding a fast bike, zooming through the city, with the tiniest skirt and thong that you have on—everything vibrates, hard. When you realized, it was already too late to ask him to stop. You were going 90 miles an hour, desperate to get home as quickly as possible to bang it out. All you could do was bite your lip as you fought back the urge to moan and make a mess all over the front seat of a stranger that you barely knew. Eitherway, you squirmed, unknowingly grinding against the leather, trying to focus on getting yourself off when you heard a guttural groan escape from the figure behind you. You froze, realizing the all-too-familiar feeling of something hard poking your back.

“Don’t stop,” he beckons, hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you down against the seat so you couldn’t escape. “Keep getting yourself off. It turns me on, hearing you moan like that.”

You smile smugly, enjoying the effect you had on him, and start to, almost performatively, continue where you left off, drawing out your moans and grinding against him. His grip around you tightens, and you lean backwards, almost writhing. One hand gripping the front of the seat for balance, the other reaching up around his neck, pulling him downwards, so he could see you and your perverse performance. You didn’t really care that you were out in public, technically the two of you were going so fast it must’ve seemed like a blur towards the passersbys, who would’ve just heard the faintest hint of moaning underneath all that engine revving.

Unfortunately, your teasing couldn’t last forever, as you finally arrived at his place. Grinning up at him, you expected something grand, like him grabbing you and taking you then and there, but he had gotten off his seat and headed for the door without as much as giving you a second thought. Shocked, confused, and a little bit hurt—you followed after him, walking through the garage door towards the illuminated living room, which almost seemed to glow amber. However, before you had time to admire the gorgeous exterior, you found yourself shoved against the wall, his hands by your head. Your heart pounded in your chest, unsure of whether to feel afraid or excited.

“Had fun, huh?” He says, almost growling. You could make out the taut of his jaw and how his eyes were a fierce intensity of frustration and something else—more carnal—hunger. “Making a mess, teasing me—so impatient.”

His hand darts underneath your skirt, sliding in between your folds. You bite your lip, the pads of his fingers are rough against your skin, but they’re also so big, and so warm. He pulls them out, parting his fingers to showcase the sticky mess in between your thighs. A blush creeps up to your cheeks at his display of your arousal; partially embarrassed, you look away, to which he grabs your chin roughly, redirecting you towards his uncompromising gaze.

“No, look at me.” He barks, “where was that confident little slut that was hitting on me in the bar, huh?”

God.

He moves down towards your ear, his warm breath tickling the skin of your neck.

“You wanted to know how hard I bite right?” He whispers, his voice having this abrasive, impatient edge. “You’ll find out soon enough. Come here.”

And in one swift motion, he slings you across his shoulder like you weigh nothing, heading to the bedroom. You laugh nervously, part in excitement, and part in fear for what’s to come. You had never met someone as eager as he was, practically stomping on the gas pedal. You let out a surprised squeak when you are roughly thrown onto the mattress. With barely a moment to adjust, you feel him flip you over onto your stomach.

“Hands and knees,” he commands, pulling your hips closer to him. “Now.”

You do as he says, feeling his hands part you slightly, the cool air of the night and his hot breath against your core. You press your face into the sheets of his bed in anticipation.

“God,” he sounds, “do you have any idea how hard it was to not fuck you then and there in the middle of the street?”

He runs a finger down your heat, rubbing circles around your clit. You roll your eyes back and moan into the mattress, your voice coming out muffled.

“No,” he says, his large hand wrapping around your neck and pulling you up against him. His other hand wraps around your hip, reaching down to resume his actions. “Don’t hide, come here—you wanted this right?”

He quickens the pace of his fingers, causing you to arch your back against him, pressing yourself against his throbbing erection. He groans again, almost painfully, and starts to grind himself against your ass.

“Hey, come on, answer me,” his hand lightly slaps your face, “you wanted this right? Practically asking for it, staring me down with those fuck me eyes.”

You nod absentmindedly, too lost in pleasure. His fingers find their way into your mouth, finger-fucking both your holes, eliciting the lewdest moans from you. His grinding grows more and more desperate, almost throwing you off balance had it not been his grip around you keeping you in place, unable to resist or escape.

“Use your words,” he snarks, “use your words, baby, I believe in you.”

You let out another moan.

“Y-yes,” you manage to stutter out, drool dribbling around his fingers and down your chin.

“What was that?” He says, his voice teasing, breath hot against your ear. “I didn’t catch that—can you tell me again, pretty girl?”

You were so close, practically on the edge, your hips grinding against the palm of his hand, desperately chasing release.

“Yes!” Crying out as best as you can, mouth still full, “I wanted this, I asked for it.”

“Good,” he coos in your ear, “good girl.”

The praise made your insides clench and tighten around his finger, producing a perversely wet squelch. You knew from the noise that you were already a dripping mess down there, arousal coating his hand dripping down your thighs.

Suddenly, he pulls his fingers out from inside of you, and you gasp at the sudden loss of sensation. You look back and whimper, having been so close.

“Poor baby,” he speaks softly, “feeling empty?”

You nod your head. He smiles a devilish grin. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll fill you up with something else.”

He moves to nip and suck on the sensitive skin of your neck, positioning himself in between your thighs, slowly rocking back and forth—thighfucking you. You lean back against him, relishing in the pleasure of it all; your arm reaching up craning around his neck, bringing his ear down near your mouth.

“You sound so good, baby,” he moans, “soooo good.”

His hand moves from your neck, down your chest, and roughly squeezes your breast. You gasp, grinding against him more, frustrated at the teasing. You needed him in you. Badly.

“Please,” you sound out, voice dripping with need, “please put it in.”

He’s slightly shocked at your eagerness, but quickly brushes it off and smiles.

“Yeah?” He teases, “you want me that bad?”

You nod desperately. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“I guess it can’t be helped.”

You feel the head of his cock press up against the swollen slit of your entrance, and in one swift motion, he pushes himself inside of you, your slickness once again making a lewd squelch. You throw your head back, finally getting the pressure you’ve been craving, letting your hips fuck into him roughly.

“Fuck,” he curses, “god, you feel so good baby.”

He pulls out slightly, before thrusting back into you, the entirety of his length pressing up against your g-spot, pushing you over the edge—legs shaking and squirting, doubled over.

“Holy shit,” he laughs, “you came just from that?”

Your lie almost motionless, trying to catch your breath, limp against the mattress. God, that was the best orgasm you’ve had in months. You’ll spend forever trying to chase that same high.

“Oh sweetheart,” he coos, kissing along the trail of your spine, “I’m far from done.”

He flips you over onto your back, spreading apart your thighs and pushing himself into you again. Your back arches instinctually, wrapping your legs around his waist, taking all of him.

“My gorgeous girl,” he hums, hand roughly gripping your face, forcing you to look at him. “I wanna see your pretty face when you cum on this cock.”

His thumb slides into your mouth again, making a mess of your face. His hips stutter into you, and you are helpless—overtaken by pleasure, rolling your eyes back, getting absolutely fucked stupid by him.

“Good girl,” he keeps saying, “good girl, good girl. Taking me so well.”

You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve climaxed, or how many hours this has gone on for. The seconds blurred into how many minutes in how many hours you didn’t know. All you know is that Kenji Sato fucks like a god, fucks you so good—possibly the best you’ve ever had.

“Don’t think,” he whispers in your ear, arms tightly wrapped around you, thrusting sloppily. “You don’t have to use that pretty brain of yours—don’t think—just cum. Cum for me, baby.”

And cum you did. Over and over again.

prev | next

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author’s note: GODDDD ME WHEN ME WHEN ME WHEN 💥💳💥💳💥💳 (I say this like I’m not in voluntary celibacy) hehe I hope you guys liked this 🤭🤭🤭 I’ll be honest smut is still something that’s kind of tricky for me to write but overall I’m kind of proud of this ‼️‼️🔥🔥🔥 I think I kinda cooked 🗣️🗣️💥💥 all in all, I will say that I took a lot of inspiration from Lady K and the Sick Man (iykyk) 👀👀🫦🫦🫦 and uh- yeah, expect more freaky scenes like these in the story because that’s like, the initial basis of their relationship HEHE until the next update 🫵🫵💥💥💥‼️‼️‼️

taglist: @luneariaa @moonjellyfishie @sweetcheeksbby @shittingonyourgrave @shauu @witcwitchy @fcklxnaa @despacito-uwu16 @mqshido @miffysoo @ybbayk @hore4ken @mochminnie @femmefqtqle @miratastic

[spatialwave]

“𝓼𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓪 𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓼𝓮, 𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓪 𝓬𝓸𝔀𝓫𝓸𝔂”

pairing: pre-war cooper howard x fem!reader word count: 938 summary: you’re cooper’s favourite cowgirl. warnings: mdni! smut, porn w plot, affair/cheating, riding, cooper loves the view ;) notes: two posts within 12 hours?? i am addicted 🫣

you’d met cooper on a film set working as a seamstress, your skilled hands sewing and tailoring the clothing he wore on the big screen. the two of you grew close as the weeks and months passed by, especially when his career took a turn for the worst when he started filming advertisements for vault-tec. it was unfortunate to watch him as his energy depleted, each day looking worse for wear as his passion vanished.

gossip spread like wildfire, and you’d learned from a few girls in the makeup pertinent about his life at home and how he and his wife were going through a tough spot—a divorce. you couldn’t imagine the heartbreak.

you were careful to bring up barb in conversation, the pain in his eyes taking forefront anytime her name was mentioned, but acting like it was no issue.

you were there for him as much as you could be, taking him for a hot cup of coffee once in a while in an attempt to bring some cheer into his life. to be a friend of cooper howard was a title you held near and dear to your heart, you hadn’t expected for it to get any farther than it did.

it all started one night when you two met for drinks—gin, whiskey, martinis and everything in between. it only took three drinks for cooper to spill his guts about barb. how she wasn’t who he thought she was, and that it was destroying their family.

he didn’t go into the gritty details, but you believed him and you were there for him. what was only a polite, reassuring touch on his shoulder had ignited a flame in both of you, eyes connecting when you shared the same thought.

an hour later you found yourself on your bed, with cooper’s tongue pressed against your wet arousal and your fingers tugging on his dark, greying hair. it became a regular occurrence, but you kept telling yourself that this was okay. it was okay because he was going through a divorce.

even if they were technically still married… even if he was still living at home with barb and his daughter, still wearing his wedding ring. this was okay.

right?

“oh my god—“ you cried out, your legs spread open as your lover fucked you with his face buried into your neck. he peppered you with hundreds of kisses, biting and leaving the faintest of marks along your soft skin, “don’t stop, coop, fuck me,” you whined into his ear, your eyes closed while your fingernails scratched down his back.

he moaned against your skin as his cock stretched you with each forward snap of his hips. he was tired, sweat beading on his forehead—he didn’t have the endurance like he used to, but he had an easy fix.

cooper pushed himself back until he was settled on his knees, pulling out of you as his thick cock sprung up and gave you quite the view. you let out a whiny, pitiful sound at the emptiness as you clenched around nothing like a needy young thing. the older man could stay like this forever, happily watching his lover begging and pleading to be fucked by him until you were filled up with his cum—a sight for sore eyes.

just before you could protest his actions and ask him to keep fucking you dumb, he wrapped an arm under your waist and moved to rest on his back with you straddling him. your knees dug into the plush comforter, palms flattening onto cooper’s bare chest.

your voice cracked as you shuddered out a moan, the overbearing fullness of his cock pushing deep inside your slick cunt. his calloused hands were tight on your hips as he guided your movements, wanting to see you fuck yourself on him.

“look at me,” cooper drawled, that disgustingly beautiful smirk on his lips, “what a pretty cowgirl. you look so good ridin’ me like that,” he murmured, thumb now circling over your clit as you started grinding your hips against his to get the friction you craved.

obediently, you forced your eyes open to look into cooper’s hazel orbs and lifted your hands away from his chest to settle on weight on his hips. you gave him the perfect view, able to watch as you rolled your hips forward and seeing how your perky tits bounced. his eyes glazed over as his mouth opened, a heady moan falling from his lips as you rode him with the practiced movements you’d learned from the handfuls of nights shared together.

“am i your favourite cowgirl?” you asked, pouting your lips and moaning while his thumb rubbed slow, calculated movements along your clit. you both had slowed your movements, taking in the raw intimacy and pleasure you shared. savouring every last bit of it because neither of you ever wanted it to end.

“don’t be coy with me, baby,” he answered quietly, reaching his free hand to touch your breast, giving a firm squeeze, then rolling your nipple between his fingers, “you know the answer.”

mewling, you closed your eyes tight when he pinched your puffy, hard nipple and a sharp pain shot through your nerves before settling into a sick, twisted feeling of pleasure.

“keep, ridin’,” he whispered, voice raspy, “c’mon, doll, i know you want to cum on my cock.”

you nodded pitifully, trying your best to will your thighs to keep bouncing on him, even as you ached.

cooper watched you with a lazy grin, keeping his thumb right where you needed it until you came with a loud cry—loving every goddamn second.

[smuttysabina]

A Month with Aespa (Ch 3): Salty and Sweet

(Giselle, Winter x Male Reader, 4k Words) Tags: Anal Sex, Some Frustration, Painal, Taking Your Frustrations Out On Idol Asshole, Awkward Dinner Conversations, Perhaps Regarding Anal Sex, Are You Seeing A Pattern Here?, Also You Technically Get Cucked, Some Writing Delays, Dramaaaaaa

Read Ch 1 Here! Read Ch 2 Here!

Rain whispers against the windows of the drafty corridor, silver droplets streaming down their clear surfaces until continuing on to puddle on the stones beneath. In eerie sympathy, another puddle spreads in the drafty hallway of your manor, steadily leaking from the crotch of the maid collapsed against the interior wall. Her plump breasts are utterly exposed, her nipples still raw and rigid from arousal; the tips oozing a faint trail of milk. The maids face is slack from exhaustion, but you can still make out the swelling of her mouth and cheeks from overuse; and smell the faintest hint of something heady... Mystery aside, it is obvious that she was to be the one who was supposed to have brought you breakfast, and soothed your morning's stiffness. With a resigned sigh, you briefly consider slaking your lusts upon her unconscious form, before deciding against it; it would be beneath you to use someone else's leavings (Not that you minded sharing, merely that you were looking for a more, attentive consort). Filled with a twined hunger, you stalk down to the warmth of the kitchens, where you will be able to find relief for both of your mortal needs. It seems that somebody has been enjoying your maids a bit too much...

Your dearly departed grandfather had designed his estate with intimacy in mind. The long, windowed hallways around the perimeter encouraged the mansion's inhabitants to roam and frolic in the heat; whilst when things grew colder, they would force the people into the interior rooms to seek warmth. And what more intimate circumstances could there be, than cuddling together for warmth before a roaring fire? The locus of this heat was of course, the kitchen; centrally located, it provided an easy excuse for the members of the estate to congregate. So that was where you decided to head; to banish the cold, to slake your hunger, and perhaps (most definitely) find some company. Your measured pace leaves you vulnerable to the chill, you are still dressed only in a night robe, but you could hardly demean yourself by giving in to such petty discomforts. You languidly wave a concerned looking maid towards the site of her fellow employee's mess, calmly ordering her to clean things up. You start with surprise however when a bedraggled looking Ningning lurches around the corner to the stairwell, her eyes bloodshot and face pale. She responds to your somewhat hurried greetings with a disgruntled grunt, obviously suffering from some inner torment. Ningning slouches off with the barest hint of the grace she had shown before, perhaps she was simply not a morning person?

The sight of the haughty diva did remind you of your current dissatisfying position; it had been several days since you met Karina in the showers, and since then the rest of them had been... distant. Winter had only grown colder along with the weather, while if anything Giselle's tongue had grown even crueler than before. Karina kept herself entombed within her room, opening her door only to accept her meals, while Ningning had grown strangely airy and annoyed. While you were indulgent of Aespa's eccentricities, their conduct was starting to become a touch, ungrateful. Perhaps one of them had been behind the "assault" upon the poor maid outside your room. You truly did not mind your maids being interrupted and enjoyed, they often did it to one another (you can hardly be expected to satisfy them all can you?); what stuck in your craw was that your breakfast had been so rudely stolen. Well there was only one way to find out, and it would provide the perfect excuse to strike a conversation with each of the girls on your own terms. But first, breakfast.

The delectable scent of the kitchen has your mouth watering even before you enter its controlled chaos. Maids scurry to and fro, preparing meals for the entire house, chopping and sautéing and boiling and steaming and baking all manner of delicacies. The room was almost uncomfortably stuffy, and maids therefore had more than enough bare skin on display to titillate even a celibate. At one point, the old man had even decreed the ladies cooked garbed only in an apron; but that scheme had been shelved due safety concerns (there had also been delays to his penchant for bending the head cook over and making furious love to her while she attempted to make complicated meals. They had an odd relationship, but she did manage to make sure that Grandfather never ejaculated in the porridge). Amidst all the hubbub, you are intrigued to find your frosty little paramour, Winter; dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt, seated at a table, steadily devouring a stack of waffles. Bemused, you join her on the stool across from her; motioning to the staff that you would also enjoy what she is currently having, before turning your full attention to the idol. Winter gives you a chilly glance, before forking another glistening bite into her mouth, chewing blandly as she studiously avoids your eyes. It would be quite the turn if she was the culprit behind the mystery, but you had seen innocent sorts before engaging in... degenerate behavior (you never could figure out how that maid managed to get her entire arm inside that man...).

It would be untoward to simply interrogate Winter however, what manner of host would that make you? A disgraceful one, Grandmother would say. So you start things off by making the most delicate of small talk, gently inquiring after her health, and her stay at your residence. Winter mostly responds with awkward chewing, but she does manage to slip some affirmatives and hesitant nods into her response. Soon enough, your own waffles arrive, slathered with syrup, which you dig into with gusto. All the while you continue to kindly press at the idol, but judging by her hesitant answers you can only assume that she was not the one who dealt with your maid; she is far too delicate and distant. Syrup slicks across Winter's petite lips from an over-ambitious bite of waffles, making them glisten in a most tantalizing fashion... Oh my. Winter coyly notices your sudden change in attention, slowly cleaning her mess up with her dainty little tongue. Meekly, she leans forward, arching her back to thrust out her posterior, as she gives you a permissive glance behind her. Your eyes widen in surprise at such a direct proposition from the demure idol, wondering if you had misjudged her icy demeanor after all... But no, though her face was an archetype of warmth and invitation, Winter's eyes remained as cool as her name.

Ignoring the lust suffusing your lower body, you inquire in a bemused fashion (that was quite admittedly strain at your manners) the source of such an, unexpected, invitation. Forking yet another bite into her mouth, you are forced to wait patiently until Winter is finished chewing (which was laudable on her part), before she gives you an answer. Realizing her simple deception had failed, she shrugs and gives you an honest response. Put simply, she had noticed your rising desire, and had sought to direct them in a way favorable to her; pointedly, she didn't want you to ejaculate in her mouth, or upon her waffles. You blink, giving her a dubious look, surely she could not think that you would do something so depraved... (well perhaps, it was a vaguely enticing idea) Maybe Winter took the first night's light play too harshly, but one would think that an idol such as herself would be used to such activities! Judging by her mannerisms however, you sense that the girl would more likely than not put the bare minimum of effort into any joining. Which would severely hamper your enjoyment, as you craved the heat of intimacy this cold and dreary morning; and Winter was evidently going to be as icy and distant as possible. What a cunning idol, to deflect you so.

With a soft sigh you refuse her kindly offer gracefully, thanking her profusely for such a generous suggestion; perhaps another time? Winter's expressive mouth quirks up at her victory, and she triumphantly devours another bite of her breakfast; this round to her then. Upon finishing your own meal, you bid her farewell, and still in a foul mood, decide to interrogate (politely inquire of) the other three idols abroad in your domicile. Back into the chill of the hallways you stride, robe held tight about you, gleaning from the passing maids where exactly your quarries were hiding. The dear ladies always seemed to have an innate sense of the comings (in some cases, literally) and goings in our residence, seamlessly gossiping information as they chance upon one another. So after a somewhat brief discussion (and a vigorous fingering) with the lusty maid stationed outside of Ningning's room, you politely knock on the idol's door. Pained curses can be heard as someone loudly stumbles towards the entryway, the brittle sound of abused glassware accompanying them. The door is wrenched open several inches, and the rather unhappy and haggard face of Ningning is shoved into the gap.

The idol blinks up at you, eyes bloodshot, looking as if she had recently risen from the grave rather than an extremely comfortable bed (you would certainly know). You are taken aback by her deathly appearance, but upon realizing who you are, Ningning opens the door more fully, revealing that she is wearing naught but a sheer and dainty shift. Her hand hurriedly attempts to straighten out her unkempt hair, as she politely asks for the reason for your untimely visit. After listening for a few moments though, her mood quickly sours once more, answering your questions with a terse negative before slamming the door in your face. Somewhat glum at this abrupt rejection, you cast an inquiring eye at the nearby maid; exactly how much has she drank? She politely informs you that every night a bottle of whiskey has been consumed since Ningning had taken up residence in her room. You scowl, an entire bottle? No wonder the girl had been so sickly, you would have been too after dealing with a hangover brought about by such drinking (especially since Grandfather's plonk was notoriously over-refined, he was certainly running low on taste-buds near the end). Ruling Ningning out as the culprit, since she was unlikely to have been conscious until very recently, you move on to dear Karina's room. The luminous debutante had been much subdued of late, so perhaps this could serve as an opportunity to make amends...

Karina seems extremely flustered upon answering the door, the lack of her ordinary poise is quite intriguing, and certainly the most suspicious so far. She awkwardly refuses your offer for brunch, flushing as she inches the door closed; apologizing profusely the entire time. How very odd. But her maid cheerfully informs you that her mistress had not left her room since returning from dinner, so you count Karina out, leaving only... Giselle, who is not in her room, but is instead for some bizarre reason prancing about in the theatre (Of course you have a theatre, what sort of cultured man of your station would not?). So you march courageously across the cold and drafty length of the mansion to reach the place where the noblest of arts is performed; as well as more gauche activities as well. Grandfather was an avid supporter of the more salacious plays, often done entirely in the nude. What was the point of romances if one could not watch the starring roles engaging in passionate lovemaking? Grandmother had not entirely approved of such voyeurism, being somewhat of a traditionalist, she had much preferred to be onstage herself!

And it is upon such a well-trodden (and stained) stage you find Giselle, idly twirling and writhing as her breath steams in the cold air. She gives you a teasing look as you take a seat in the front row, her eyes gleaming maliciously as she notes your gloomy mood. Giselle pouts at you, what sort of host would bring such a negative air to her performance? You scowl slightly, no doubt confirming her suspicions, and forego the usual niceties by inquiring if she stopped by your room earlier this morning. Giselle beams as she cheerfully informs you that she had, and that both your breakfast as well as your maid had been quite delicious. She covers her mouth in an entirely unconvincing act of shock; oh dear, had her little mistake enraged you so? Giselle had assumed that she was allowed to enjoy whatever she liked in this mansion, including your morning meal. After all, it was only fair after you had enjoyed the rest of Aespa to such a degree... You grimace, your already foul demeanor growing worse by the minute, Giselle was doing an excellent job of needling you, perhaps she required some... training. The minx's eyebrows raise, judging by your attitude, you had evidently not exerted yourself much this morning. Was Winter not your liking, did you not bend her over the table in the kitchens and ravish that adorably innocent girl? She is ever so complacent, did you use that to your advantage when you took her, forcing her to engage in all sorts of depraved acts?

You are certainly feeling a dangerous urge to force Giselle to engage in all sorts of depraved acts; a little forcefulness would be forgivable in some cases... So you bluntly order the idol to strip for you, now. Giselle blinks, before demurely complying, languidly stripping out of her clothes until her body is bared fully to the cool air of the theatre. Tan nipples harden upon her modest yet shapely breasts, as goosebumps ripple down her taut belly; her hands stray shyly over her exposed crotch, hiding her sex from view. Giselle's discomfort raises your spirits somewhat, and you generously indicate for her to continue dancing. While her earlier performance had been a touch erotic, now her movements were downright lascivious; flexing and spinning to show off every angle of her delectable body. She pauses, posterior upraised, holes on full display as she glances back at you knowingly. Giselle can tell that you're unable to control your lusts, that you're going to take her like some perverted beast. You're going to ravish and despoil her nubile body until she is left broken and sobbing! Your member bulges at the thought of inflicting such debased acts upon Giselle, she certainly did deserve it after all; the mincing little bitch. She had ruined your morning, and was unabashedly mocking you while impinging upon your hospitality; a little payback was surely warranted. And if you were a touch rough with her, then well, she did deserve it, afterwards you would make it up to her... Wait.

That devious idol was goading you on, spurring you to go too far, so that when she was left wailing with crocodile tears you would face an unendurable guilt. In such an enfeebled state of mind, no doubt Giselle's honeyed tongue would convince you to do nearly anything in an attempt to redeem yourself for your sins. Her guile was truly impressive, so similar to Karina's sacrificial attitude, yet far more sleazy in its nature. Cunning, so very cunning. Ah well, sometimes the best way to deal with deceit was with direct action; and to be completely fair, she was quite literally asking for it at this point. With Giselle's poisonous entreaties slithering through your ears, you promptly remove your pants, and approach her gently swaying butt. Her permissive vitriol only increases in vulgarity when you grasp her hips, as she freely insults you for being such an ignoble brute; all while daintily spreading a cheek in welcome. So you blithely decide to derail her nefarious seduction by simply shoving your manhood into her anus, lubricated only with sweat. Giselle throws her head back and screams, even for an experienced idol, having something suddenly forced up your asshole is quite the surprise. Now her curses are quite devoid of salacious intent, as she spits and yowls in pain.

Giselle's anus feels absolutely delicious, devouring every inch of your manhood with ease, while still gripping you so tight it's almost agonizing. Though to say your thrusting was accomplished without difficulty would be a disservice to the lady in question, for her there was undoubtedly a great deal of discomfort as her entrance dragged along your length. She lets out a pained whine as she claws at the floor, unable to escape from her deserved punishment; her petite cheeks suffused with a rosy glow from the force of your coupling. Giselle was not the only one making noise however, your own groans of pleasure nearly matched her shrieks in volume. Her ass was amongst the tightest you had ever felt, far tighter than even Karina's pussy had been, and it's coils massaged your member in a most licentious manner. If you had not been so pent up, perhaps you would have lasted longer, but having gone for such a time without release, and subjected to such an intoxicating sensation, could you be blamed for finishing so soon? With a mighty growl you haul the teasing idol against your crotch, your balls emptying themselves into Giselle's guts as she writhes at the sudden warmth filling her belly. Every mighty spurt of your seed causes her to gasp anew, simpering and sobbing as her hips buck and shake. She moans pitifully in despair, no doubt still believing that you were under her devious spell; working overtime to shower you with guilt in your most vulnerable moment of triumph.

You slide your manhood out of the warm confines of Giselle's hole, as she continues to prattle on in a most woeful manner; your seed already starting to bubble out of her used ass. She looks back at you, expecting to see you wracked with despair at what you had wrought; only to find you staring back at her with bemusement. Giselle blinks, before rolling her eyes and letting out an annoyed sigh, "Well it was worth a try, and would you mind warning me before fucking my asshole? I would hate to make a mess all over the floor..." She lets out an awkward cough as she clambers to her feet, pointedly glancing at the door to the theatre; expecting a prompt dismissal now that her plan had failed so dismally. But one bad turn deserves another, and having Giselle endure a little painal was nowhere near enough to satisfy your bruised ego. So you politely ask her to clean you off, but the look of absolute disgust she gives you warns that she would not be gentle should she be forced to follow your instructions. Ah well, you would have to experience the heavenly bliss of Giselle's pussy some other time then; back into her rear you go.

The idol scowls as you motion her to get back onto the cold floor, laying flat on her stomach and kicking her feet in irritation. This time your entrance into her ass is much smoother, her hole well lubricated with cloying remains of your last visit. But unlike last time, Giselle isn't bothering to pretend that she is in distress, instead treating you with sassy indifference. Where once her pained squeals of pleasure serenaded you ears (accompanied by some truly titillating, if abusive, wordplay), now she simply acts as if your cock is not buried to the hilt in her guts. Giselle shoots you smug glances, yawning exaggeratingly and proclaiming how bored she is; and of course, insulting your love-making skills. The meaty slap of your sex grows louder as you put more force into your thrusts, her taught butt jiggling as you put your weight into it; driving your cock deeper inside of her. Your previous load froths out around your shaft, splattering onto your balls and coating her thighs with sticky droplets. Your still sensitive cock throbs with sensation as it explores the deeper reaches of Giselle's ass; it is difficult to simply not give in to your lusts and breed it endlessly. The increased violence of your coupling seems to have quieted Giselle's bitchy abuse however, who now seems more focused upon gasping for air as you push your entire weight onto her to steady your wildly pumping hips.

Giselle's pained breathing grows more shrill as you approach the crescendo, mechanically pounding away at her asshole as if it were a cheap toy. You howl as you climax, each thrust slamming deep into her guts as you spew ropes of semen inside of her. Giselle squirms beneath you, letting out a surprised squeak at the sudden heat pouring into her belly. Hot liquid paints your sack as they smack against her unused pussy, your balls pulsating as they empty themselves mindlessly into the infertile warmth of Giselle's ass. You collapse onto the idol, the both of you panting for air from the fierceness of your sex; the chill of the room now long banished by your exertions. After several minutes, you have composed yourself enough to unmount Giselle, allowing the distinctly squished-looking member of Aespa to stagger upright. She scowls at you as she rubs at her tender backside, "Ugh your seed feels absolutely revolting inside of me, couldn't you have just spent yourself in one of your maids instead? Asshole." Sniffing disdainfully, Giselle stalks (gingerly) out of the room, not bothering to collect her discarded clothes; and pointedly ignoring the fact that her asshole was burping semen down her thighs with every step.

With a tired groan you haul yourself into one of the chairs in the front-row, now thoroughly exhausted and drained, yet quite satisfied with yourself. You eye the puddle spreading across the stage balefully, the heady stink of it remarkably familiar to you... You wearily call for your maids to come in and help clean up the mess; resting your head back and closing your eyes as you hear them puttering around... One of them lets out a discrete cough as she approaches, causing you to blink awake; you had not even realized you had dozed off for a time. The maid courtesies, before politely inquiring if you required any cleaning. You wave in acquiesce, untroubled by the fact that the maid seems to be intent on using her sopping cunt to wash your cock off. She would no doubt suck you clean after she had doused it with her own juices; an indulgence which a good master could hardly complain about. And to be honest, having someone else put the work in was rather appreciated; and who doesn't enjoy having quivering breasts shoved into one's face? (Well I imagine that some degenerates would not, but their inferior opinions are hardly worth your attention)

That night around the dinner table, Aespa are far more animated than they had been before. Karina seemed almost her old self, Ningning had softened a bit, even Winter's attitude had perked up a bit, and Giselle was as gregarious as always. Though she spent much of the evening squirming in her chair, much to the curious glances of her groupmates. In a sociable mood, you playfully ask after her health, fully expecting an innuendo-laced retort from her. Instead, Giselle blandly replies, "But of course I am a bit uncomfortable, after you spent all morning violating my asshole." There is a moment of awkward silence before utter chaos descends upon the table; with Karina looking absolutely outraged, Ningning glaring furiously at Giselle, and Winter appearing quite relieved.

Giselle sends you a devious smirk, before mouthing, "Asshole"

Perhaps she was still a touch salty?

A/N Jesus this one took forever to write, it took me forever to properly write that anal scene, it just wasted away in my drafts. RIP. Well hopefully it was worth the wait lol!

[cordeliawhohung]

simon riley x reader | drabble | fluff | artists

written as a non-canon addition to in limbo but can be read by itself

If it wasn’t for the porch light, the thick umbra of the new moon would have swallowed you whole. 

The crisp night air bites at the back of your neck with icy teeth. It was a welcomed feeling when you had first exited the sweltering oven that Sapori grew into during service. Something that licked away the thin beads of sweat that clings at the base of your skull. Now, it’s incessant. Its jaw clenches until it digs its canines deep enough to break skin, and your fingers tremble too much for you to properly sort through the keys on your chain to escape it. 

Snowy fur brushes against your knuckles as your arctic fox keychain dances with your stiff movements. The sensation coaxes a smile to your lips as glittery blue eyes catch the soft illumination of the bulb above you. Soft like a kiss. Gentle like a lover. 

Eventually, you find the correct key. It flashes beneath the light as you gently slide it into the lock. Freshly oiled, the door hardly makes a sound as you swing it open and embrace the warmth swirling around you to welcome you home. Well, almost home. Your name isn’t on the mortgage, but your clothes linger on the floor, and you know just how far to turn the knobs in the shower to get the water temperature just how you like it. 

You shut and lock the door behind you as your shoes slip off your feet with an unceremonious thud. Amber light seeps into the entryway, and the quiet murmur of the late time news beckons you closer. You follow its call with a heavy body. Every tendon is tightly wound within your body. Shrinking until you curl inward on yourself like a decaying leaf wasting away in the bored sunlight. 

Simon is sleeping on the couch. Swathed in warm light, his hair illuminates as if it’s captured the essence of the sun. He’s faced away from you, head propped up on the arm rest closest while his feet rest on the other. You tread lightly on the pads of your toes, curiosity piqued as you close in on him like a skittish cat sniffing out a good meal. A scavenger ready to feast on just the faintest scent of carrion. 

His arms are crossed over his chest, flattening and widening his biceps to fill out the width of his sleeves. You gawk, eyes glued to the ink that paints his skin as his chest quietly rises and falls with his breaths. Dreams — or perhaps it’s your presence? — forces his eyelids to flutter, and you’re drawn to his face. Thick scars. Some thin. Silvery and light, or rough and red. You’ve never seen his face like this; upside down. You soak in the view. The texture of his skin. The bump of his nose and the… 

… curve? 

You’ve never noticed it before, but there’s a slight sway to his nose where the tip isn’t exactly in line with the bridge. It deviates from its intended path, going right instead of straight (or… technically it’s his left). Curious fingers extend, tips gently grazing against his forehead before traveling along his nose. Butterflies flutter in your stomach as you paint him with your touch. You feel and savor every bump; every angle. 

“You were supposed to call.” 

His lips part and dance without warning, and it has your hand retracting from him as if he tried to nip at you. Squeaking, your fingers lock over your mouth as if you can keep the temporary fear bottled up inside of you, but it still rips through your throat. Smirking, his eyes flutter open to soak in your surprise for himself. His lashes are thick enough that they nearly obscure his irises, but you’d recognize the color of home anywhere. The butterflies that were swirling in your stomach a moment before now lay in the unforgiving acid with shredded wings. 

“I didn’t realize you were awake,” you divert. 

“Am now,” he hums. 

Grunting, Simon sits up properly. Thick fingers dig into the back of his neck as he reaches for his phone. The screen flickers to life, proudly displaying 2:03 AM and a lack of messages from you. He turns to you, shaking his phone like he’s shaming a cat for scratching furniture. 

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asks. “Better not’ve walked ‘ere. Don’t want you doin’ that this late.” 

“You know I’m too chicken for that,” you giggle. “Bee gave me a ride. 

Once again he hums. The grasp of sleep still clings to him in the form of heavy eyes and lethargic movements, but his limbs act as if they’re full of helium. Airy and floating, he places his phone on the coffee table before pushing himself to his feet. For a man half awake, he moves fast. Arms snaking around your head, he pulls you close, nearly smothering you in his embrace. He’s warm enough to melt the frost still clinging to your clothes; you can feel the way it thaws and drips on the floor at your feet. 

“Still shoulda called me,” he reiterates. His words rattle your skull as his lips press against your forehead. Whatever ice still left on your body sublimates within a second. 

“Worried about me?” you tease. 

“Always.” 

Arms still wrapped around you, he begins to walk. Your legs stumble backwards as you giggle and chastise him, demanding he unhand you so you can walk properly. He refuses to relent. Just pushes you along with him like he’s herding you; corralling you in until you’re right where he wants you. 

Right where you belong. 

Simon falls back asleep the moment his head hits the pillow. Greedy man, you think to yourself. Sapping all your drowsiness and using it for himself. He’s snoring. Light and quiet enough that it wouldn’t keep you awake if you were tired. Something that fills the air with white noise. Mellow shadows softly veil over his body, but you can still make out the features that adorn his face. 

Wandering fingers eventually make their way back home, and you are once again tracing his nose. Every bump, curve, angle; it’s all memorized. Ingrained in your being just like the road back home. You anticipate the change. The turns. Simon is your childhood house. You know every crack in the ceiling and the coziest spots to perch. His snoring stops abruptly with a snort. Each inhale and exhale is nothing but a gentle wind against the palm of your hand. 

He nuzzles into your touch like a dog begging for more and it isn’t long before he’s cradling your head into the side of his chest. You’ve been tracing his features — painting him until every inch of him is loved — and now he returns the favor with music. It’s all thick drum and bass against the shell of your ear while the quiet melody of his lungs weaves between the beats. The ringing in your ears cease — drowned out by devotion and life — and your achy mind quells. 

In the morning it is not the warmth of the sun that wakes you. It is the placid caress of weathered fingertips against your knuckles. Roused from your sleep, you do not stir. Instead, you stay still; the perfect canvas to be adorned with art. Each other’s muses, each other’s masterpieces, you’ll wear his love until the paint he brushes you with dries and cracks.

[dead-boys-club]

†  jingle jingle : sunday.

❥ scenario: just testing the attention of birds ❥ no triggers; not rated. ❥ technically, half beta'd ❥ not requested; not even a serious post.

❥ i will gladly catch all the hands in my inbox.

the room was quiet, the only sound being the faint ticking of a clock off in the distance. sunday sat across from you, his presence still and just as silent. the two of you had spent countless hours together like this, comfortable in each other's presence without the need for constant conversation and interaction.

your etes drifted over to him, taking in the way his hair framed his face and his gaze seemed to be lost in thought. there was something about sunday that always made you curious, mysteries that you felt you'd never get the answers to.

'sunday,' you began, almost hesitant to break the silence. he turned his head slightly, acknowledging you with just a faint hum.

'you're familiar with ravens,' you said, a tiny smile showing. 'you know, they have a strange love for jingly, shiny things..'

he blinked, a little surprised by the sudden topic, the faintest hint of curiosity flickering in his usually impassive eyes. 'i've heard of it, yes,' he replied, voice calm. 'ravens are intelligent creatures, drawn to things that catch their eye. they collect them, sometimes even trading them with other ravens and, rarely, people.'

you nodded. 'exactly. it's like they can't resist things that are sparkly or make noise. it's kind of cute.'

sunday watched you, as if trying to discern the intent behind your sudden inquiry. when you quieted down and seemed to drop it, he went back to what he was doing; it didn't last long, however. you reached into your pocket, fingers closing around something smooth and metallic.

without a word, you held up the shiny trinket - a silver bell that caught the light in just the right way - and gave it a gentle shake. the soft jingle echoed in the quiet room, and you watched closely, eyes twinkling with mischief and curiosity.

lifting his head, swayed by the sound, his expression showed a mic of amusement and perplexity. 'and.. what exactly are you doing?' he asked, though no real annoyance to his words.

'just testing out a theory,' you replied, shaking the bell again, filling the space between you. 'wondering if it was true or not.'

his lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but it was gone in a blink. 'so, you think of me like a raven, then?'

you shrugged, smile turning into a grin. 'i mean, it did get your attention. you're mysterious and intelligent.. you seem to have an interest in the unusual. i wanted to see if you shared their love for shiny things, as well.'

for a minute, sunday just stared at you, eyes unreadable. without warning, he leaned forward, hand reaching out to gently collect the bell from your grasp. he held it up, examining it with a contemplative look before giving it a shake of his own, kind of liking the soft ringing.

'interesting,' he whispered, gaze flickering back to you. 'but, it seems you're the one who enjoys these little games more than i do.'

you laughed, the sound warm and light in the still room. 'maybe so,' you admitted, following his movements as he placed the bell back in your hand, his touch lingering momentarily.

'but,' he added, voice softening the tiniest bit, 'i appreciate the distraction. it's not.. unwelcome.'

the two of you fell back into the silence, though this time, it seemed like there was a new warmth and understanding between you, the shared moment of light-heartedness softening the stillness. you gave the bell one last shake, the sound now feeling like a private joke of sorts.

in the quiet, you couldn't help but wonder.. perhaps, you'd managed to catch the attention of this particular raven after all.

[lady-phasma]

Caught - Daemon x fem reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, praise k!nk, kinda rough sex, graphic language, cockwarming, unprotected p in v sex, Daddy!Daemon

Summary: PWP literally just 3.1k of smut. Daddy!Daemon caught you up to no good and has to remind you of the rules. a/n: this is technically modern au Daemon. Short hair, modern setting, and modern language, the language gave me a bit more freedom than usual.

You froze as Daemon entered the room. His eyes flew from your surprised face to your hands between your thighs. You started to giggle with embarrassment until you saw his brow furrow. The smile fell from your lips. You weren’t sure if you should pull your fingers out of your dripping cunt or not so you lay still as he walked to the bed.

He watched you closely as he walked across the room. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. Already his cock had begun to ache seeing you naked on the bed, pleasuring yourself. However, there was an underlying emotion that amplified that ache. He needed to correct you. Your inability to keep your hands off yourself was sexy, but it made him almost seethe with envy. He had told you before and you had agreed, you would always wait for him.

“What are you doing?” he asked as he sat down on the side of the bed, one eyebrow cocked. You didn’t move your hands but squeezed your thighs closed. Daemon slowly reached one hand to press against your knee, opening your legs. You let him. When he slid his hand down the inside of your thigh you whimpered. Gently, he pulled first one of your hands, then the other away from your cunt. The sound your fingers made sliding out of you was almost embarrassing.

“Gods you are so wet, little one.” Daemon frowned. “Were you close?” His eyes flicked up to yours.

You nodded silently.

“Hmmm,” he mused. Then he gently clasped your wrist and raised your hand to his face. He breathed in deeply before sucking your fingers clean. You moaned and bit your bottom lip to quiet yourself.

“We talked about this,” he began. He laid your hand on the bed and stroked your thigh. “We talked about what would happen if you did this without Daddy?”

“Yes, but,” you started to explain.

“No,” he stated flatly. You tried not to grin. You loved it when he got this look in his eye. He looked possessive, jealous even, but not angry. His eyes narrowed.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good. So how do I teach you this lesson so you will remember, hmm?” You knew it was a rhetorical question. Daemon stood up, slid his tie out of his collar, and walked to his desk. You watched, motionless, as he shuffled papers and books, silenced his phone, tossed his tie over the back of the chair, and finally sat down.

You subconsciously licked your lips as Daemon’s hands went to his zipper. He unfastened his pants and freed his cock. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but every part of your body tingled when you saw it. It was thick and gorgeous and you thought you could see the faintest pearl of precum leaking from the tip. He stroked slowly, watching himself, ignoring you. It felt as if minutes turned into hours before he looked up at you. He almost grinned at the lascivious expression on your face. He paused and you couldn’t help but stare at his twitching cock.

“Come here,” Daemon said. You rose form the bed, legs shaking, and you felt heat rush to your core. Walking toward him naked was exhilarating. Daemon patted his thighs as you approached. It was patronizing, but it made you smile nonetheless. You eyed his lap briefly and tried to guess the position he wanted you in. You began to move forward, but he saw the perplexed look on your face and caught your hips in his hands. He positioned you where he wanted you. His strong hands gently guided you through the awkward motion of sitting on his lap with your back to his chest. His hold on your hips made you feel a bit more stable during the wobbly affair. Then, very quietly, he whispered in your ear.

“You’re going to keep my cock warm, little one. You’re going to be as still as a statue and as quiet as a mouse. Understood?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you answered and swallowed dryly.

“Now, lift that lovely ass,” he said with a smile in his voice. Pressing down on the arms of the chair, your feet pressed on top of his shoes for leverage, you raised up as far as you could. His hand slipped under your ass and through your wetness. You gasped and your thighs shook. His fingers were gone almost immediately. You heard him stroke his cock and then you felt him at your entrance. Slowly you began to lower yourself, with his hands guiding you again. Your body felt like it had been struck by lightening and your head spun with excitement. This was a punishment? You exhaled as you settled into Daemon’s lap, his cock fully buried inside you.

“Comfortable?” he asked. You nodded trying to move only your head. Your arms and legs felt stiff. Frankly, you were still concerned with falling off. You giggled before you realized you were going to. Your hand flew to your mouth and you did wobble. Daemon held you steady and laughed under his breath.

Finally, he pulled you toward him, your back pressed against his chest and you felt yourself begin to relax. Your hands fell from the arms of the chair to rest on your thighs. You let your feet slide off his shoes, allowing him to support you completely. This also made his cock go the slightest bit deeper. You whimpered and tried to adjust your hips. His fingers dug into them, stopping you. You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, leaning back against Daemon’s chest. Every breath, every movement was bliss. As he settled, his cock moved inside you. As he breathed, you moved up and down with his chest. Each small movement echoed in your cunt. You thought if being this connected to him were punishment you could get into “trouble” more often.

“Hand those to me.” Daemon startled you when he spoke. You blinked and failed to understand for a moment. Then you leaned forward for the papers and gasped. Gingerly you handed them to Daemon. You shifted to the side slightly and tried to rest against him again. But the movement caused you to clench and Daemon hissed air through his teeth. You grimaced a little as you began to understand… a bit like trying to balance on one foot and not fall, you weren’t sure how long you could do this. To your amazement, however, Daemon began to read as if you weren’t there. You clenched around his cock involuntarily. He was distracting himself and you were what? Not supposed to think about how good it felt to be so deeply connected to him? Every time you thought of it you twitched or tensed up. You crossed your arms across your breasts and huffed. You couldn’t lay your head on his shoulder, you couldn’t wiggle, you could only sit.

“Yes?” Daemon asked.

“Well,” you thought for a moment. “What am I supposed to do?” You heard the whine in your voice and cringed. You tightened your arms across your chest.

“Think about your actions,” Daemon chuckled as he spoke and resumed reading. His laugh was infuriating. You could have screamed, but more than that you wanted to rock your hips. You needed to hear him moan and say your name. Instead you pouted. Trying not to think about your wetness dripping down around his cock, soaking his pants, you exhaled. When you turned your head to look at Daemon he was actually reading! You smirked as you wiggled your ass slightly and he didn’t even glance up. You turned your attention to the room, looking for anything to distract you. But the harder you tried to not think about his cock the larger it seemed to grow in your thoughts. You shifted a few times, tried to alleviate the constant, aching need but nothing worked. The next ten minutes were agonizing. It could have been 30 minutes for all you knew. This frustrating pleasure made it impossible for you to judge.

When Daemon finally lowered his papers, your head felt foggy with arousal. You blinked trying to clear the cobwebs from your mind. He slowly began to lean forward and you steadied yourself by gripping his thighs. He snaked one hand around your side to your belly to hold you still and tossed the the documents onto the desk. They slid and nearly scattered, but Daemon didn’t seem to care. He ran his hand along the top of your thigh. His fingertips came precariously close to your lips and you jumped. He chuckled that low, infuriating laugh again.

“How do you feel, baby girl? Do you think you can remember our rules now?” His hand continued traveling up your body until he was cupping your breast. He languidly passed his thumb over your nipple. The new sensation felt so good that it was almost painful. It jolted you out of your haze.

“Yes, Sir,” you mumbled. “I will remember. But please, Daemon.” You didn’t expect to beg. “Please.” Your cunt tightened around him as you spoke.

“Soon,” he whispered. “Soon.” There was a slight tone of pride in his voice. You weren’t sure how you knew that from one word but you couldn't think about it for long. His hand on your belly began to slide down. Two of his fingers brushed the top of your cleft and you bucked your hips. You tried, at least. His hand held you quite still. But your movement had elicited a small hmm from him. That sound produced a fresh wave of wetness to flood your aching cunt.

“You did so well,” he spoke near your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “You kept my cock perfectly warm. Do you want your reward?”

“Yes, please,” you whined again. You fisted your hands into the fabric of his pants. Simultaneously impatient and anxious, you had rarely been this overstimulated.

“Are you going to be a good girl from now on?” Daemon smirked. He was dragging it out, still enjoying your blissful distress.

“Oh yes, god yes!” You tried to move your hips again and this time he let you. Only he followed the movement with his hand and slid two fingers over your clit. You let out a groan that sounded as if it came from someone else. You clamped your teeth down on the sound as Daemon circled your clit with his fingertips.

“Damn,” he mumbled under his breath. “That’s it, baby girl.” You were moving your hips slightly, clutching and unclutching his pants with the same rhythm. It was slow and almost imperceptible. Daemon kissed your shoulder, squeezed your breast, then rested his forehead in the curve of your neck, never stopping the motion of his fingers. You felt the familiar coiling in your core, the signal of the beginning of your orgasm, and reached your hand behind you to slide your fingers into Daemon’s hair. You riffled through his short hair and pressed him harder against you. He groaned and nuzzled deeper into your neck. His cock seemed to throb inside you. The sensations were overwhelming. You raked your nails across his scalp and breathed out his name. Without warning, he stopped and pulled his fingers away. You arched your back trying to chase them. He straightened and shook your hand from his head.

He moved both hands to your hips and dug his fingers into your flesh. He began to guide you to lift your hips but you shook your head “no.” He ignored this protest and start to move you himself. You felt dizzy, off balance, and you wanted nothing more than for his cock to stay exactly where it was. But you realized this would be easier and faster if you worked with him. Begrudgingly and gingerly, you placed your hands on the arms of the chair once more. The feeling of separation was immediate and intense. You squeezed your eyes shut. Daemon, thankfully, still held your hips as you tried to stand on legs that should not have been so shaky.

As Daemon began to lean forward you swayed and reached out to steady yourself on the desk. You felt him shift behind you and his legs pressed yours wider. He still held you by your hips but he leaned forward and kissed your lower back. He trailed kisses down to the top of your ass. You let out a small moan as he kissed the dimples at the base of your spine and then he sighed. His breath on your ass made you squirm. Every sensation was like a shock to your brain.

In one swift movement, Daemon stood behind you. He pressed you forward slightly but didn’t let go of you until your hands were firmly planted on the desk. You were almost bent over completely, arms laying on the desktop. Daemon smoothed a hand up your back, signaling you to lean further forward. You did so, forehead nearly resting on the surface. You heard him unbuckling his belt and sliding fabric against skin. Your cunt clenched on nothing purely from anticipation. He nudged your feet further apart with the toe of his shoe. You gasped as he slid his fingers through your slick, messy cunt. He drug them slowly back over your clit, all the way back to your ass and then pulled his hand away. You pressed your hips back toward him, begging without words.

“You want my cock back in that needy little hole?” He growled the question as he stroked his cock once, twice, then positioned himself between your thighs. “Well?”

“Yes,” you tried to answer but it came out in a croak. You mouth was a desert. You cleared your throat. “Yes, Daddy.”

He hummed a short approval as he rested his hands on your ass. His cock began to slide inside you so slowly that you could barely breathe. You resisted the urge to push back toward him with every ounce of your will power. Daemon moved forward slightly but also used his thumbs to hold your ass cheeks apart. The thought of him watching his cock slide into you, imagining the way his bottom lip would be caught between his teeth, forced you to finally collapse onto the desk.

“Please,” you started. “Fuck, Daemon, please, I can’t.” Your pleading sped him up, but only slightly. The only thing that stopped you from doing it yourself, pressing your hips back into his, was the delicious sound he was making. It was a throaty hum mixed with a sucking of air through his teeth. When he was finally balls deep inside you again, he moved his hands forward, onto your hips again.

“You feel so good,” he said under his breath. The words made you squirm against him and clench around him. He began long, slow strokes that drove you crazy, gradually picking up speed. Each thrust pushed you forward until your breasts were pressed against the papers on the desk. You barely held yourself upright, your legs felt as if they would give up at any moment. You were unsure if there were words in the incoherent moaning coming from your mouth as Daemon seemed to drag out each stroke.

“That’s my girl,” he said with a hard thrust. Then he started to move faster, his strokes growing shorter. You felt one of his hands slide forward and tensed around him in anticipation. He let out a breathy fuck as he pushed through the tightening of your muscles. When his fingers grazed your clit you bucked away from his hand. His fingers found you regardless.

“You can take it. You have to if you want to come,” he said icily. You whimpered as he stroked your clit in time with the thrusts of his cock. “I want you to cum on my cock like the good slut I know you are.”

His voice, his words, flipped a switch inside you. The coiled, aching tightness in your core released. Waves of pleasure emanated from your cunt. Your limbs felt cold and heavy but you barely noticed.

“Fuck.” You panted and moaned, pressing the side of your face onto the desk. “Yes, Daddy. Oh fuck yes.” You words trailed off into mumbled pleading and sounds of agreement. His fingers continued their movement and your hips jerked with each pass. You were too cock drunk to beg him to stop. Your orgasm didn’t crest and break but stayed in this tight, hot moment until you thought you might pass out.

“You can have your reward now, baby girl,” Daemon punctuated each word with a thrust as he began to pound into you. You no longer moaned, no longer made any sound. Your breathing was shallow and harsh. You reached your hands out to find purchase, to brace yourself and only succeeded in knocking things off the desk. Daemon increased the pressure on your clit and you came undone. You closed your eyes and cried out his name. Begging, pleading, but not for him to stop. You begged for his cum and he gave you what you needed. He moved his hand from between your legs. He grabbed the back of your neck and pressed into you one final time. His cum was a warm rush between you. He ground his hips against your ass. He groaned and relaxed his grip on your neck.

Daemon leaned forward, out of breath, and kissed your shoulder. He stroked your shoulder blade, your side, and slid his hand under your stomach. You were barely able to follow his lead. The pressure of his hand guided you to prop yourself up on the desk. You huffed out a small chuckle at your predicament. Before you were entirely prepared, he pulled back slowly. Your eyelids fluttered when his cock left you. The feeling of what he left behind was divine. You tried to catch your breath.

You felt his hand on you, resting on your side. You straightened up as he began to turn you toward him. He caught your mouth with his before you could face him. He petted and stroked, one hand on your side, pressing you into him, one hand on your stomach and hips. He pulled back and looked into your eyes. The corner of his mouth turned up and the pride you saw in his face made your chest feel as if it would burst. He barely took his hands off of you as he sat down, keeping you on your feet. Then he helped you onto his lap once more. Sitting across his lap, you curled into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. You inhaled the smell of his shirt and became dimly aware that he had somehow not taken it off. You smiled and closed your eyes as he kissed the top of your head.

Masterlist Daemon masterlist

[magiccath]

Hold Me Tight (Or Don't)

The Doctor x Reader (written with 10 in mind, but works for any Doctor if you squint)

Summary: In which you just need a little physical affection from your favorite Time Lord

A/N: yeah the title is a Fall Out Boy song, what about it?

By most standards, the Doctor was a fairly touchy individual. It wasn’t something he did consciously, or even a habit he was generally aware of. He wasn’t ever overwhelming about it; touches from the Doctor usually came in the most casual of manners. His hand tangling in yours, dragging you along as he sprinted away from (or more often, towards) danger. Or he’d gather you up in his arms, lifting your feet off the ground with pure enthusiasm as he murmured how incredibly brilliant you had been. 

As time went on, the touches became more frequent - his hand found its way into yours and his arms found their way around your middle more often. You’d never thought of yourself as particularly ‘touched starved’ before the Doctor, but you found that quickly changing. 

You started to crave his gentle touches in a way you never had before. It was like a bug bite - a tantalizing feeling deep inside of you that you longed to itch. Technically, you could, you were completely able to, but the outcome tended not to be advisable. While you knew you had an affliction for the alien’s touch, you didn’t have the faintest clue where he stood on the matter. If he knew just how much his minor affections meant to you, he might stop them altogether. You found that sometimes, it was better to have a little bit of something than not to have it at all. 

Subconsciously, you started to seek out his touch in the smallest of ways; a brush of your pinky against the back of his hand, a gentle tug on his coat sleeve, an adjustment of his constantly wayward tie. Sometimes, your hand almost clung to his, only reluctantly pulling away when his fingers untangled themselves from yours. You clung to his frame tighter, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in the crook of his neck when he hugged you, clinging to him like a lifeline. 

If he noticed, the Doctor chose not to comment on your affliction for his physical touch. Honestly, it made sense that the Doctor didn’t notice. He didn't notice a lot of things, especially for someone who claimed to notice all things. Sure, he knew the important stuff, but he wasn’t always the best with subtle emotions or social cues. Sometimes his obliviousness was borderline painful (and at the worst of times, dangerous), but other times it saved you from embarrassment. 

Regardless of the reasoning, you were glad that the Doctor remained oblivious to your longing touches. You didn’t know how he would react to it all. Even more, you didn’t know how to approach the subject at all. “Will you let me just hold onto you for 3-5 business days? For some reason, I feel the need to be constantly touching you. Please and thank you.” 

So, you stayed silent. You found yourself laying awake in bed at night, longing for the secure feeling of his hand in yours. You watched him work on the TARDIS console, constantly fighting the urge to walk over and hug his slender middle as tightly as you could manage. He handed you things and the momentary brush of his fingers made you want to cry with complete and utter need. 

The thought of him wormed its way inside of your brain, nestling deep inside until it was borderline impossible to ignore. Your heart ached for him - for the gentle and loving way that he held your hand, for the caring brushes of his fingers against your cheeks, for the feel of his arms snaking around you, pulling you closer and closer to his body. You ached for him. 

Some days were worse than others - when you had a bad day the aching need burned inside of you, threatening to boil over. On those days, you sought comfort in any way you could, oftentimes hiding away in your bed, clinging to your pillow like a small child. In contrast, the good days were easy. Those days that you spent running around the cosmos with the Doctor, your hands firmly intertwined. At the end of those days, you fell asleep with a smile on your face, the phantom feeling of his hand in yours etched into your memory. 

-

The Doctor knew that you considered him oblivious. Most times, he wouldn’t even bother to argue with you. It wasn’t that he was oblivious per se, but rather that he was selective in his attention. He cared very little for pears or people who talked tantalizingly slow, but he was rapt when it came to puzzles and you. 

You were his favorite companion, of course he paid attention to you. He knew that you bounced your leg when you were anxious, he knew exactly how you took your tea, your favorite kind of biscuit, and the name of your first pet. Most notably, he was starting to notice a shift in your behavior when it came to him. 

Whenever he touched you, you seemed to tense against him before relaxing and practically melting into his touch. Your fingers would twitch when he held your hand, or your arms shook when he hugged you. The first few times it happened he attributed it to other things - nerves, too much caffeine, hunger, etc. As it continued to happen, the Doctor started to worry. 

Maybe you were touch adverse and he was just now realizing. He mentally kicked himself for being so stupid and oblivious. He wasn’t oblivious when it came to you, he wasn’t supposed to be. You were one of the few things in the universe that could hold his attention for ridiculously extended periods of time. 

As he worked on the TARDIS machinery he felt your eyes on him, the weight of your gaze boring down on him. A sudden dread filled him, the fear of you being cross with him enough to send him crawling into a deep, dark cave. With a frustrated groan, he tossed the tool he had been using to the side. He brushed his hands against his trousers and stood up, crawling out of the hole in the grating he had been down in. 

“Are you mad at me?” he asked curtly, deciding it was best to not beat around the bush. 

Your eyes widened quickly in response, shocked by the sudden question as well as the content of the question. “No?”

“You’d tell me if you were, right? We’re best mates you’re supposed to tell me when you’re cross.” 

“I’m not cross,” you retort, your brow furrowed. You wondered where the Doctor got such an idea. He was known to misread social cues, but he had gotten pretty good at reading yours. “You’d know if I was cross,” you added.

“If you don’t like physical touch you could have just told me,” he grumbled quietly, his tone reminiscent of a sulking toddler. He was hurt and almost offended that you hadn’t just told him. You could tell him anything, surely you knew that?

“Who told you that?” Your frown deepened. The Doctor was very good at being wrong, a lot better than he would ever admit to. Still, this was a new kind of off-base, even for him. 

The Doctor tilted his head to the side slightly, “You’ve been acting weird about it lately.” 

“No, I haven’t,” you say, almost too quickly. 

“You-” he struggled to find the exact word, his big Time Lord brain whirling away. “You twitch when I touch you,” he tried, but it still didn’t seem to express his thought process. “It’s more than that, it’s like you tense for a split second when I touch you.”

“Do I?” 

The Doctor nodded, “It’s like my touch burns you, but you’re too nice to tell me.” 

“I’m not too nice to not tell you anything. I will proudly tell you that your hair makes you look like a cockatoo on drugs.”

The Doctor practically pouted, his hand subconsciously flying into his unruly hair, “It does not- That- that’s not the point,” he frowns. 

“I’m not mad about the touch, Doctor. I’d have no problem telling you if I was.” At least that was true. The whole situation would be a great deal easier if you were severely averse to his touch. He wouldn’t think twice if you told him you didn’t like to be touched, so why did it feel like such a big deal the other way around? 

“But you’re mad?” 

“I’m not mad,” you sigh. Now it was your turn to grapple for words. Why did it have to be so hard to explain emotions? 

“It’s not that I don’t like your touch. Really quite the opposite,” you started rambling, looking more at the floor than the Doctor himself. “It’s not that I want you to touch me less, it’s that I want you to touch me more.” 

He raised an eyebrow, slightly stunned by the confession. 

“Not like that!” you say quickly, realizing how it sounded. It wasn’t like that, not at all. 

“I wasn’t even thinking about it like that,” he frowned, finding your comment defensive. 

“I just mean-” you groan, hiding your face in your hands, “I find myself wanting more hugs, more hand-holding, stuff like that.” 

“Why didn’t you just ask?” 

“It seemed weird,” you murmur, still not looking up from your hiding spot. 

“It’s perfectly normal to crave affection,” the Doctor shrugged, clinical as ever. No matter what you said, he always found a way to make it sound ‘perfectly normal’. Somewhere, someplace, sometime, it most likely was.

“It’s not something that I experienced before,” you admit, finally looking up from your hands. You still don’t meet his eyes, your gaze finding it more comfortable to look at your trainers. “I didn’t need it like I do now, it didn’t eat at me.” 

“You should have told me sooner,” he sighed, his voice closer to you now. Your eyes flitted upwards, meeting his. “I don’t like seeing you in pain, you know?” he said, resting his hands on your arms. His thumbs rubbed soft circles against your skin, the gesture so painfully caring it made you want to cry. 

“I didn’t know how,” you admit, finally looking into his eyes. They were always so soft like his default setting was puppy dog. It was hard not to get lost in those endless pools of chocolate brown. 

The Doctor pulled you into his arms, holding you close to his chest. You could hear the steady sound of his hearts beating, the twin organs just barely out of sync with each other. The four-beat rhythm reverberated through your head, the sound oddly calming and familiar to you. 

You gave up on acting strong, pretending that this wasn’t exactly what you needed. Instead, you just melted into his touch, wrapping your arms around his waist in return. Your fingers tangled in the fabric of his suit jacket, clutching onto the garment like your life depended on it. 

The familiar smell of the Doctor flooded your senses. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what the smell was, but it was trademark Doctor to you. Not quite a sandalwood musk, maybe an alien version of it? A strange mix of cinnamon, cloves, and vanilla - a combination that strangely did not coincide to create the smell of a Snickerdoodle. Sometimes he smelled like fresh linen after he did his laundry or switched out his suit. It didn’t matter what the exact scent notes were, you could recognize his smell anywhere. 

You held on a little tighter to his suit, pressing your face further into his chest. The Doctor grunted slightly in surprise as you squeezed him, making you ease up a little bit on your grip. His hands run up and down your spine, rubbing soft and gentle circles. 

It was a bit of an awkward position, the two of you in a tangled embrace on the floor. Your back was starting to hurt, but you didn’t dare move. What if this was your only chance to hold onto him like this?

“Do you wanna get off the floor?” the Doctor murmured, his hand still rubbing up and down your back in a comforting rhythm. 

“Yeah,” you whisper back but remain entirely stationary on the floor. You felt glued to him, unable to move even if you wanted to. 

“You’re gonna have to let go of me for that,” he chuckled, also making no moves to let go of you. When you also showed no signs of moving, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He started to let go of you, moving to get up from the floor. In protest, your arms tightened around him. 

“If you want to move off of the hard metal floor, you’re going to have to let go of me,” he whispered, stroking the back of your head reassuringly. “I promise we can go back to this, I’d just prefer somewhere more comfortable.” 

Reluctantly, you complied, untangling your arms from around his middle. The Doctor got up first, extending a hand down to help you up from the floor as well. Even after he pulled you upright, he didn’t let go of your hand, a small gesture that you were immensely grateful for. 

Silently, he led you down the hall and into the library. The room was a vast rotunda with seemingly endless shelves of books spanning multiple floors upwards. Gentle light came from vintage lamps and cream-colored candles that never seemed to burn out. Several worn-out pieces of furniture were littered around the room, many of which you had fallen asleep in at one time or another. 

The Doctor selected the largest seat in the room, a plush L-shaped couch with a garish but faded floral pattern. Unceremoniously he flopped into the corner, opening your arms in invitation for you to join him. 

Without hesitation, you practically fell into his arms. You curled up against him, resting your head back against his chest. In turn, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you against his frame. 

“This better?” he asked, brushing your hair away from your face, his fingers tickling your cheek. You nodded in response, nuzzling yourself further into him. Your face found its way into the crook of his neck, your nose slotting perfectly against the curvature of his shoulder. The Doctor sighed in contentment and rested his cheek on top of your head. 

You felt like nothing more than a puddle in his arms, finally able to melt against him like you had wanted for so many months. Now that you were snuggled against him, you weren’t sure you would ever be able to let go. 

As if reading your thoughts, he broke the silence, “We can stay here for as long as you need.” 

“Thank you,” you exhaled quietly, your heart fluttering at his compassion. 

The two of you stayed like that for the rest of the day, snuggled up in the TARDIS library together. The Doctor made a conscious effort to make this a regular thing, especially on days when you weren’t feeling your best. All you had to do was say the word and he would drop everything to comfort you. After all, you were his favorite companion. 

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Date Night 2: Chaggie

Vaggie: *flicking the top button on her blouse open and closed as she waits for Charlie in the lobby of the hotel*

I know she said she'd be a minute, but we're going to be late if we don't leave soon. It's been so long since we've last been on a date....

Charlie: *rushing down the stairs in a pair of heels, strapless, crimson red dress with sheer black overlay and glittering sequence, and immaculate make up with her hair curled enough to give it a gentle wave as it ties off over her left shoulder*

Hi! Sorry, I took so long. My hooves were a pain to get into these heels.

Vaggie: * wide-eyed and blushing. Completely gobsmacked at how beautiful Charlie is* .......it's fine..... We still have time.....

Charlie: *flashes a fang as she smiles sweetly and kisses Vaggie on the cheek* Don't you look gorgeous. I almost don't want to go out~ *giggles as she passes Vaggie and sashays to the door* Let's go! Razzle's waiting in the car!

Vaggie: *eyes follow the sway of Charlie's hips and she chokes on air at the sight of her completely backless dress dipped low on her hips. The faintest dimple of her ass peeking out over the fabric*

Ay, dulce seductora~ Soy lo suficientemente fuerte.

Charlie: *turns around at the door* Hm? Did you say something, Vaggie? *notices the predatory, warrior glint in Vaggie's eye as she walks closer* Vaggie... no. We've been planning this date for MONTHS.

Vaggie: And all I can think about right now is getting you home~

Charlie: *giggles nervously with a blush as she fumbles with the doorknob* I mean. Technically. We're still home. You can't get me somewhere we already are.

Vaggie: *steps forward with a "challenge accepted" smirk*

Charlie: Vaggie, no! NO!!! We have to get to the restaurant- SHIT!!! *throws open the door and sprints out to the car*

Vaggie: *chasing after Charlie and dives intot he backseat of the limo* ¿A dónde vas, princesa? No me importa un pequeño aperitivo antes de cenar~

[heartfullofleeches]

C.C Christmas headcanons? -🧶

[Yan Incubus + G.N Reader Christmas HCs]

"Santa? Never heard of her. Only lap that was should be sitting in is mine."

"Presents? Why do you need those when I'm the best gift you'll ever receive?"

•Despite the origins of the holiday and his, C.C is a rather festive devil - mostly cause he loves buying junk to spoil his loved ones with and he looks amazing in red. Adores all the pretty decorations around town and having the opportunity to string some up around his apartment with you. Buys the biggest tree that'll fit through his door and decorates his side of it mostly in handmade ornaments of you two together (Don't ask why most of them are of you asleep)

• Wants to bake cookies/make hot chocolate with you all the time, but don't be surprised if you find him spitting in the batter to add a lil extra excitement holiday cheer to the mix (I always forget his saliva is technically an aphrodisiac, but I didn't here)

• Wakes you up bright and early in his holiday best (one of those Santa dresses that rides his ass). Tries to be all cute by bringing you breakfast in bed he made all by himself.... and by that I mean the chef he hired. He knows what you like to eat if that any consolation.

• High chance you won't get through all the presents he gets for you before new years. If you show even the faintest interest in something at a store/online or express your grievances with something not working properly in your home, best believe this incubus has you covered. Throws some lingerie and other fun items into the pile because he's got to treat himself too sometimes, and there's no better way for him to do that than doll up his favorite toy. Hopefully you'll be nice enough to put on one of your new outfits for him as it's all he truly wants for Christmas...well that and your undying love and devotion.

• Wear the matching lingerie sweaters he ordered for you or he will cry and you'll never hear the end of it.

•Mistletoe strung up everywhere. Door frames, above the bed, taped to his horns if they're visible. You are giving this man his smoothes or there will be hell on earth. I doubt he'd allow guests unless it was family, but if anyone is caught underneath it with you that isn't him is getting booted out the nearest window.

• Might be best to keep an eye on the placement of the gift boxes when he's giving them to you - especially if they're in his lap and he invites you to stick your hand in blind. He does say he's the best present you'll receive.

• After the first round of opening presents, C.C would love nothing more than to cuddle up with you and watch some seasonal movies by the fire place. He may go on and on about all the things he can't wait to do to you with certain presents he ordered, but he'd honestly be out like a fucking light all snuggled up with his human surrounded by your love and the heat from the flame. There's always tomorrow anyway.

[hard-core-super-star]

for your love, i'll do whatever you want... [K.Bishop]

pairing: alpha!kate bishop x omega!reader

summary: omega heats are incredibly unbearable, thankfully kate knows just what to do to make you feel better.

warnings: shameless smut -> minors, you're not allowed [omegaverse au {written by someone who has very minimal understanding of the logistics and makes everything up on the spot}; omega in heat = needy alpha kate; fingering {R receiving}; so much praise; technically pet play but only if you squint {kate does call R puppy more than few times}; finger-sucking {i couldn't resist}]

wordcount: 1.9k

a/n: i have no explanation for this, i just...think she's neat. i read literally one omegaverse au fic and now i have brainrot. clearly, the only solution was to pass it on to all of you. i've never written anything like this before so uh...be warned, i guess. once again, this is about the closest i'll get to doing kinktober but this variant of kate [along with vampire!kate] might be sticking around, we'll see. also, believe it or not i did some world-building but tried not to include too much and just focused on the filth. you're welcome, i guess?

* * * * * * *

The sound of the bedroom door opening makes your tired eyes snap open. You blink the drowsiness away long enough to recognize Kate’s frame as she slips into the room. Her steps are slow, almost bordering on hesitant, but the mere sound of her boots on the floor makes your heart race.

The archer had been gone for what felt like months. In reality, she was only gone for four days. Not even a full week had passed without her and yet you’ve been desperate for her return since the moment she walked out the door. 

You assumed it was only due to the strong bond, and slight dependence, that had started to form since the brunette brought you to her apartment a few months ago. She’d rescued you from a cruel living situation and shown you kindness you never even thought was possible.

Especially from such a dominant alpha. 

But Kate’s nothing like all the alpha’s you’re used to. She’s all soft chuckles, understanding looks, and feather-light touches. The literal definition of care lies in the depths of her pale blue eyes. 

It’s truly no surprise, then, that you fell for her instantly. 

And it’s even less of a surprise that being without her triggered an avalanche of feelings that resulted in your heat. A heat you were forced to endure on your own with no gentle touches or whispered praise.

Until now.

“y/n.” She makes an effort to keep her voice quiet despite her obvious concern. “How’re you holding up?”

The answer to that is crystal clear considering you’ve made no attempt at getting up and rushing toward her like you usually do. You want nothing more than that but your entire body aches in ways you’re not used to feeling, at least not on this scale. Your skin burns with pure warmth yet your body shakes as if you’ve spent the past few hours out in the cold.

You’re barely able to lift your head, the faintest of whimpers slipping out. Your lack of a response is all she needs to approach you and the comfortable nest you’ve made in the corner of her bedroom.

Your nose picks up on her scent immediately and the lower part of your body wastes even less time in reacting. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate to feel her touch on every part of your overheated skin.

“Uh oh, I know what that look means,” she jokes as she sits in front of you. 

Your grumble of discontent is wiped away the second she reaches for you. She easily picks you up, letting out a slightly playful grunt, before maneuvering you onto her lap.

“Kate,” you mumble.

“I know, sweetheart, I’m right here.” 

Her hand gently grasps the back of your head, guiding you forward until you’re able to seek refuge from the overwhelming sensations rushing through your entire being. Her scent drives your body wild but it’s also the only thing capable of calming you down so you bury your face into her neck without hesitation.

“Baby…” Her tone makes you shiver and you subconsciously shift closer to her. “I’d like to hear your voice.”

You know what her request actually is, you’ve heard it countless times since she started the hard work of putting your broken pieces back together. Your hands grasp the front of her shirt and you fidget with the fabric until you find the words you’re searching for. 

“I missed you.”

You don’t see the smile that graces her lips but you hear the slow exhale of relief she lets out. The fact that you’re speaking to her is a good sign, one that reassures her enough to finally start touching you.

“I missed you too,” she admits as her hands begin to wander. “I thought about you every day I was gone.”

She keeps one arm wrapped securely around your waist but lets her free hand caress you in all the right ways designed to soothe you while simultaneously driving you insane with need. Just because she’s the kindest alpha you’ve ever met doesn’t mean she’s not a massive tease when she wants to be.

“Katie,” you practically whine. 

Your reaction brings a chuckle out of the brunette that only serves to intensify the ache between your legs. You’re both acutely aware of the amount of slick that’s dripping down your thighs by now but while you’re on the edge of desperation, Kate’s having the time of her life. 

She always loves knowing how much you need her, how much you crave her, and today is no exception. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” The pads of her fingers ghost along your chest, barely grazing against the side of your breasts. “Do you need something, pup?”

Hearing that one word out of her lips shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. Although, that could easily be said about any and every single thing Kate does. 

All you can do for a few seconds is whimper and press yourself closer to her, your hips shifting every which way in search of some friction. Friction she easily denies by shifting her lower half away from you which means you’re forced to pull yourself together and ask for what you want.

“Mhm, need you.”

Kate rewards your obedience by finally letting her fingers play with your hardened nipples. Her touch is soft even while she tugs on them just enough to draw out another needy little sound from you. “You have no idea how adorable you sound right now. You’re just a pretty omega in need of her alpha, aren’t you, baby?”

You open your mouth to answer her but instead of words, a sharp moan leaves your lips as her mouth meets your shoulder. She trails a line of kisses along your warm skin, allowing you to bask in the comfort that underlies such an intense moment.

She’s had her fun and now her full attention goes toward making you feel better the only way she can right now.

Her hand starts its descent once she’s satisfied with the amount of skin her kisses have covered. She moves slowly despite the obvious wetness that’s started to drip onto her jeans. She’s not trying to tease you anymore, though. Her touch is reassuring, a silent promise she won’t hurt you like all the ones who came before her. 

The noise you let out once her hand cups your aching cunt borders on pathetic but there’s no time to feel embarrassed. There’s no time for anything except grinding down against her fingers while they stroke your swollen clit.

“Good girl,” she murmurs in between soft kisses. You can tell she’s barely holding back the urge to pierce your shoulder with her teeth. “Fuck, you’re so wet, baby. Is this all for me?”

Her question is meant to be rhetorical but you don’t dare risk it, already too far gone to be able to deal with more teasing. “Yes…just for you.”

Kate’s fingers stutter in their movements. She wasn’t expecting a response, much less one that makes her possessive, and borderline primal, instincts flare up. The change in her scent throws you off, especially when the words that escape her are almost as needy as your own.

“You’re so good for me…so fucking pretty like this. God, you’re driving me crazy, puppy.”  

The emphasis on the word is enough to make you cry out in pleasure but then she sinks two fingers into your tight pussy and you swear the world stops moving for a few ecstasy-filled seconds. 

Kate doesn’t mind that you stop rocking against her, she’s much too eager to show you she’s the only one capable of making you feel this heavenly while doing such sinful things to your body.  

She’s also already obsessed with the way you’re clenching around her fingers and it shows in the non-stop groans coming out of her.

Groans that push you closer to the edge.

“You’re taking my fingers so well.” She’s panting into your shoulder but you can’t blame her for it since you’re in a much more desperate state, panting and groaning against her neck. “So tight but so needy for more, isn’t that right, pup?”   

“Yes-” Kate slips another finger inside you before you can get too far. “Fuck! Please!”

You don’t know if it’s your words or the sound of the tears that are gathering in the corners of her eyes but she instantly turns back to that gentle alpha you know so well. The one who puts your needs above her own without missing a single beat.

“I know, I know. Just relax, let me take care of you.” 

Her fingers thrust inside of you at a rapid pace but she’s careful not to get too rough with you. She shifts a little, kissing her way across the top of your shoulder and to the side of your neck.

You’ve never felt closer to her than you do right now and the feeling is somehow more overwhelming than your pleasure. 

Kate’s thumb starts drawing circles on your throbbing clit and you almost fall apart instantly. She knows. Of course she knows because she’s spent hours getting to know every part of what makes you who you are. Including your painful past. 

She lets you bask in the feeling of holding back until your cries of pleasure border on discomfort. “It’s okay, puppy,” she mumbles while nuzzling your neck. “You don’t have to wait, you can cum for me. Show me you’re mine.”

There’s no way for you to last any longer once she says that. 

Your mouth drops open into a long moan as Kate coaxes your orgasm out of you. You’re sensitive and desperate and yet the thing that causes you to truly give in to your release is the care she puts into everything she’s doing. 

She’s giving you everything you want because she knows it’s the only thing that’ll make you feel better. The only thing that'll take away the discomfort of your heat and the anxiety that still thrums through your veins from being with her.

Your entire body shakes and shudders from the strength of your orgasm, Kate’s fingers slowly fucking you through it until you fully collapse against her. 

“Good girl.” She plants a kiss on your neck before pulling her fingers out of you. 

You whine the second she leaves your cunt empty but you’re too worn out by everything that’s happened to beg for another orgasm. Instead, you accept the fingers she presses against your lips, opening your mouth without a second thought and moaning at the taste of the wetness that covers the digits.

“There you go, just like that, pup.”

You’re far too exhausted to reply so you settle on sucking her fingers while she whispers soft praise into the space between you.

After days of yearning for the alpha’s touch, your body finally feels soothed. Relaxed to the point of comfortable sleepiness, not the awful stress-filled exhaustion you were forced to deal with on your own.

You’re finally safe in the arms of someone who genuinely loves you for who and what you are.

“Does my sweet omega want a nap?” 

Her soft tone makes you smile around her fingers. You let out a muffled sound of contentment and Kate merely chuckles in response at how eager your sucking is despite your obvious fatigue.

“Okay, sweetheart. Just close your eyes, I’ll be right here to take care of you when you wake up, alright?”

There’s not a single doubt in your mind that she’ll be true to her word.

So, you close your eyes and take a few deep breaths that fill your entire being with the smell of her. You belong completely to Kate and you wouldn't have it any other way.