#I feel like I should make this my pinned post it says everything you need to know about me

[spencerreidenjoyer]

we've already done it in my head | spencer reid x reader

You have fantasies about Spencer, and you feel bad about it when you have to see him at work. Thing is, he has fantasies about you too.

wc: 4.8k, rating: explicit

tags/warnings: professor!spencer, post prison!spencer, bau!reader, fem!reader, sexual fantasies, masturbation, daddy kink, getting together, hookups, friends with benefits (?), mentions of public sex/exhibitionism (they don't actually do it), fucking with feelings but neither of them really realise it yet lol...

a/n: i am insane and that's all i'll say about this fic. jk i started this at the top of the month and i'm glad i've finally finished it. this was such a crazy one to work on, aside from being swamped with school work. thank you to my lovely friend from twitter vic who kept encouraging me to work on this hehe. inspired heavily by taylor swift's guilty as sin? (obviously) and chappell roan's picture you just for those horny yearning vibes yknow? please enjoy this insanity!!! (crossposted to ao3)

Spencer rushes in from the university when Emily calls. It’s a serious case, one that Emily decides Spencer needs to be pulled away from his teaching for. She doesn’t feel good doing it – the whole team knows how important teaching is to Spencer, but he understands all the same when he comes into the round table room. Spencer sits down at the last empty seat next to you, his hair a mess as he sets down his things and flips open the case file. He turns to smile at you, before Penelope starts the case brief.

It’s a long, tiring day of work after landing in California, the BAU having been called in to investigate the murders of young moms in the area, and you need a glass of wine and a nice hot bath to even fathom everything you’ve seen today.

You should just turn in for the night, the Bureau being particularly kind with their budget as you all get individual rooms. Your drowsiness should put you fast to sleep, but your mind is racing with thoughts of Spencer.

Spencer’s been in his nice suit all day, filling out his shirt nicely. You’ve noticed his stubble growing in, and his hair is messy and gorgeous. You can’t help yourself for feeling this way, as guilty as you feel about it. You’ve been harbouring your crush on Spencer for way too long, in the couple of years since you joined the BAU. Spencer is a sight for sore eyes for sure, but his kind gentleness despite the horrors of what you all do for work is a welcome reprieve. 

While his sweet nature was what had you falling for him in the first place, Spencer could be extremely sexy, even if he didn’t know it. 

Today was especially tough for you. You and Spencer were sent in to interrogate a particularly uncooperative suspect, playing into the good cop-bad cop dynamic. Your coaxing wasn’t doing anything, and Spencer had ended up raising his voice in an attempt to intimidate them. He’d slammed his hand on the table, a loud clang against the metal, and his large figure only served to crowd the suspect in to scare them further.

You only got to know Spencer after the mess that was him getting wrongly sent to prison, but Spencer supposedly wasn’t like this before prison. Still, you found Spencer’s quiet intimidation incredibly attractive, and you had to keep your composure in the interrogation room earlier.

And your mind drifts to Spencer from earlier, his rough callousness with the suspect, his glare wild and intimidatingly sexy, you end up thinking about him.

About Spencer, who is so kind and sweet with you and the rest of the team, seeming like he couldn’t hurt a fly. 

About Spencer who could also be domineering and intimidating. He seems like he’d only pull it out if you asked, but the duality has you hot under the collar. 

Your eyes slip shut, mind swirling with thoughts of Spencer, about having him all to yourself, about him wanting you. 

About his large hands on you, making you feel so small under his firm grasp. 

About him pinning you down on the hard, cool metal of the table in the interrogation room. 

About him caging you in with his arms, the look in his eyes almost crazed and full of lust for you. 

“Spencer,” you gasp, before Spencer kisses you fervently. His stubble is rough against your skin, but you don’t care. Spencer kisses you like he’s a starved man and you’re his next meal, with such desperation that you feel weak in the knees.

“You’re gorgeous,” Spencer says. He kisses your jaw, down your neck, and his large hands are all over your body. You feel so secure in his grasp, he feels you up and drinks his fill of you. He gropes your tits, your thighs, your ass, manhandling you into spreading your legs, so he can press the hardness of his cock to your cunt. “Look what you do to me.”

You whimper, fully indulging in this wet dream as you slide a hand into your underwear. “Spencer,” you gasp.

“You’re so hot, you make me feel crazy,” Spencer hums, rolling his hips against you. You’re separated between layers of fabric, but Spencer humping you like this turns you on to no end. 

You rub at your clit in tight little circles, your wetness aiding the slide as you get yourself off to the thought of Spencer.

“Spence,” you moan, frustrated. While Spencer’s hardness grinding against you is literally a dream, you want to imagine his cock buried inside of you. You’re perfectly capable of moving this along, so you do. 

Magically, Spencer’s clothes are off and so are yours, the perks of a fantasy being that you don’t have to awkwardly stumble through taking your clothes off. You have a hazy picture of what he’d look like naked in front of you. You imagine toned muscle, a slight pudge to his tummy from his time in prison, his pecs filled out nicely. You imagine his cock would be pretty, as pretty as he is, veiny and thick and all sorts of perfect. 

“You’re too fucking good to me, baby,” Spencer groans, the blunt head of his cock pressed up against you now. He rubs off against you, sliding over your clit, your folds, over the wetness leaking from your whole. “Gonna fuck you so good, just like you deserve.”

Without hesitation, Spencer’s cock slips into you, the perfect thickness to make you feel full as he slides in inch by inch. 

You slip your fingers into yourself, aided by how impossibly wet you are just at the thought of Spencer, and your groan weakly. Two fingers aren’t enough, not when you bet Spencer could fill you up, like he’d split you in half on his cock. 

He pushes into you until he’s pressed flush against you, buried inside of you to the hilt. He starts to pound into you, like he’s uncaring of what you need, but the way he treats you turns you on impossibly.

Your fingers aren’t enough to satiate you, but you thrust them in and out of you in an effort to mimic how Spencer fucking you might feel. You moan, a little louder than you’d like.

“Spence–” you gasp, in your fantasy. It should be scandalous, Spencer taking you over the table in the interrogation room. You don’t know if the thought of people being behind the one-way mirror turns you on or not – being watched, letting Spencer take you in front of everybody. You like the thought of Spencer being so obsessed with you, so desperate, needing to fuck you right where you work.

The metal table is cool and harsh against your hips, but you don’t care if it hurts as Spencer fucks you relentlessly, quickly taking on a brutal pace. It’s exactly what you need, what you want Spencer to do with you, being rough and frantic enough to make you scream his name.

You whimper his name under your breath, bashful even while in your fantasy. 

Spencer has you pinned down, but it’s not like you intend to get away. You want to savour this even if it’s only in your mind, shameful as you’re getting off to the thought of your coworker. You just need this out of your system, need Spencer out of your system, and then tomorrow you can face him like a normal, well-adjusted person. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, palm grinding against your clit, fingers pressed inside of yourself. You’re shaking, with the thought of Spencer fucking you until you can’t take it anymore, the ideal of him in your mind too perfect, until you’re moaning into your hand as you orgasm. You sob, clenching tight around your fingers, feeling your slick gush out as you ride your high.

You don’t mean to fall asleep, but after both a long day and a crazy good orgasm, you end up passing out with a tissue clenched in your hand, with your panties and sleep shorts kicked off to the foot of the bed.

---

Spencer can’t stop thinking about you.

He shouldn’t, not when you’re his coworker and also one of the people he’s friendliest with in the unit. 

Spencer would say he couldn’t bring himself to trust many, especially after coming out of prison, but you were the one he warmed up to the easiest. A new face in the BAU wasn’t uncommon, but Spencer had found himself drawn to you. You were kind and warm to him fresh out of prison, your tenderness a welcome reprieve as he’d gotten accustomed to being back at the BAU. With your intellect and quick wit, matched with your beauty, Spencer could not help but be attracted to you – but that’s besides the point. 

Spencer knows how much your friendship with him means to you, and he’s certain that that’s all you see him as: a friend. 

Yet, he can’t stop himself from thinking about you in those pants. Those pants that hug your curves just right. Those pants that make your ass look great – not that he was looking – especially when you’re leaning over an interrogation table, trying to play the good cop with the suspect from earlier.

Spencer had hung back, trying to get a read on the suspect while you spoke to him. Him getting to ogle your figure and stare at how good you looked in those pants was unintentional, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. 

Spencer only felt a bit bad wrapping his hand around himself in the shower, mind flooded with thoughts of you. Water, almost scorching, running down his body, his hand moves fast and reckless, exhaling harshly as he gets himself off. 

He can’t get you out of his mind, your gorgeous figure, your pretty face, your wide eyes and thick thighs and soft lips – he shouldn’t be thinking of you like this. You were a coworker, a friend, for God’s sake, and yet he can’t stop imagining you under him. 

He can’t stop imagining pressing you against the table in the interrogation room – your lithe frame underneath him, making you look so small, making him feel so big. 

He presses his growing problem to your perfect ass, watching you writhe underneath him. You keep looking back up at him, with your wide, wet eyes and your flushed cheeks, looking like you need him to give you exactly what you need.

“Please, daddy,” you whine, and Spencer is groaning and undoing his belt before your pants get pushed down too. Stroking his cock quickly, Spencer easily finds his way to your entrance, wet and dripping with your slick. He pushes into you, pressing kisses to your neck as you groan with the intrusion. 

“Daddy,” you whimper, “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Spencer coos at you. Spencer feels you press yourself back up against him, pushing his cock deeper, and he loses all sense of control as he starts to fuck you hard. He feels like a madman, unable to hold himself back as he takes and takes and takes, fucking into your tight wetness, his head spinning with how good you feel around him. 

You’re whining and moaning under him, your noises music to Spencer’s ears as they echo off the walls. Your cunt is wet and sloppy as Spencer fucks you, wanting to give you everything you need and more.

“Fuck, baby,” Spencer groans, his hand tightly fisted around his cock. The way the tip of his cock leaks is easing the slide, as he pictures in crystal-clear detail how your cunt would draw him in, slick and messy be fucks into your perfect, tight cunt. “You’re too good to me.”

“Daddy,” you sob, your hands clawing down Spencer’s back. Spencer gropes you greedily through your clothes, grabs your tits and feels his fill of your waist, your perfect ass, your thighs as he rocks himself back and forth between them. 

“Gonna cum inside of you, love,” Spencer grunts, his pace unrelenting. His hands are on your thighs, gripping you tight, both fucking into you and dragging you onto his cock over and over. “You’re gorgeous. Gonna make a mess of you.”

You’re whining underneath him, making him feel too good, as you clench around him tight and moan even louder. Spencer can’t help himself, thrusting into you hard and fast and eager until he’s cumming.

He spills into his hand, the thick white ropes of his cum washed down the drain with the spray of the shower from above him. Visions of you flash through his mind, your gorgeous frame, your pretty face, your mouth on his. 

He’s barely towelled off before he’s knocked out in his bed, too tired to even process feeling guilty about jerking off to you. 

---

Sure, perhaps it’s childish to try and avoid Spencer all day, especially when you have an active case all of you need to be working on. You must be a fool to think that getting yourself off to Spencer would help, because all you can think about is your fantasies of him last night, how you imagined him bending you over and taking you– Not helping, you remind yourself.

Emily must secretly be on your side or be able to read your mind or something, because Spencer is relegated to work on geographic profiles and speed-read through case files back at the police precinct, while you get sent out onto the field to chase down your killer. 

But you can’t avoid Spencer forever, and you aren’t any good at it either. You feel like Spencer’s eyes are on you the whole day when you and him are in the same room, but you never look up at him to find out. While you could chalk up your nerves to a serial killer still being out on the streets, you don’t have any more excuses at the end of the day when you’ve finally caught him, and the team decides to get dinner to celebrate.

You purposely wedge yourself between JJ and Emily when you sit down at the table, trying to avoid Spencer, and you think you’re successful with getting away with seeming a little out-of-it when you end up slipping away early, claiming you had a rough sleep last night.

You’ve barely settled down in your hotel room for the night, finally feeling like you can relax, when there’s a knock at your door. You have no clue who it could be, but you open the door, and–

There Spencer is. 

“Hi,” you say curtly, feeling embarrassment wash over you all of a sudden, because all you can think about is getting off to the thought of him last night. You feel your cheeks warm, but you hope it’s not obvious that you’re blushing. Then, in an attempt to seem somewhat normal and well-adjusted, you add, “What’s up?”

“I should be asking you that,” Spencer says, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “What’s up with you today?”

You press your lips together in a thin line before you say, “Nothing’s up. I’m fine.”

“Come on,” Spencer prods, his head cocking to the side as he deadpans. “You know I can read you like an open book. Something’s up.”

You frown, Spencer stoking the flames of brattiness in you. “Yeah? Tell me what’s the matter, if you can read me so well.”

Spencer’s eyes widen slightly. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“I- I thought we said no inter-group profiling,” Spencer says, his voice a little weak, and for the first time, you see Spencer look a little helpless. It’s kind of hot. 

Do you make him… nervous?

“Yeah, but if you insist on thinking something’s up with me…” You shrug, smiling. Spencer just blinks at you.

No. You couldn’t possibly entertain the thought. 

Spencer clears his throat. You watch him fidget with his hands just slightly, before he puts them by his sides to seem confident. “Well, you’ve been avoiding me, on purpose or not – both attest to your desire to avoid me somewhat. You could barely look me in the eye all day, which means you might be embarrassed or guilty of something, likely having to do with me.” Spencer says, his voice even, but he isn’t looking at you. 

You raise your eyebrows. His explanation is both specific and vague, and you feel slightly called out and safe from his scrutiny at the same time. But, you can’t shake off the feeling that there’s something more to Spencer’s words, the way he’s looking at you like he hopes you can’t pick his brain apart. 

So, you turn it back onto him, “Then, what do you think is the problem? You aren’t looking at me either, and you were fidgeting with your hands. Is something up with you, then? It almost sounds like you’re projecting, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer freezes, like he’s a deer caught in headlights. You can practically see his brain running a mile a minute, overthinking every possible outcome, overly self-aware of himself, his actions, his thoughts.

You try to stop yourself from smiling, because Spencer is kind of cute like this. “You wanna tell me what it is then, Reid?” 

“When did this become about me?” Spencer squeaks, his usually cool facade quickly disappearing. There’s a look in Spencer’s eyes, as he nervously looks you up and down, and oh– “I just– Well, I– You–”

“I’m thinking we might be on the same page, here,” you say, smirking. “Wanna tell me what it is?”

Spencer furrows his brows, his mouth agape as he looks up at you, but you’re putting your hand on his chest and trailing it down slowly. “Oh–”

“Tell me, Dr. Reid,” you cock your head, eyeing him up and down lazily. When you look at Spencer’s face, he’s shocked, enamoured and turned-on all in one. 

“You’re… attracted to me,” Spencer says, somewhat uncertain. “The same way I’m attracted to you.”

“And what makes you say that?” You hum. 

“I thought I heard you last night. Through the walls,” He says timidly, nothing you’ve seen from him before. “Thought I should’ve gone over to help, but I realised you were, um– You were pleasuring yourself. To- To me.”

“The walls are thin, huh?” You laugh, a little sheepish, but you note how Spencer’s becoming shy at the thought. “Did you…?”

His eyes grow wide. “Did I do what?”

You smirk. “That tells me everything I need to know, Reid,” you say, laughing.

“Well, you shouldn’t presume–”

“Shut up and kiss me, Reid,” you huff. You pull Spencer closer to you by his tie and you press your lips to his. 

It’s too perfect, when Spencer’s mouth is finally on yours. His hands cupping your face, Spencer kisses you hard and eager, like he can’t believe that he finally gets to have you. He kisses you like he’s starving, desperate for you as his next meal. You moan as his hands reach for your hips, pulling you in closer to him, greedy as he feels you up.

“Did you fantasise about this too? About me, like this?”

“This is better than I could’ve ever imagined,” Spencer says breathily. “You… You’re so attractive.”

“Could say the same about you,” you laugh, reaching to unbutton his shirt. His tie is already loose, hanging around his neck, but you want to see more. You undo the top few buttons, revealing more of his chest. You trail your finger over the exposed skin, letting your nail graze it slightly. You hear Spencer inhale sharply, and grin to yourself, proud of the effect you have on him. “So, do you want to just stand around and talk, or do you want to fuck me?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, and you chuckle. As if he hadn’t expected this was how it was going to go. Spencer purses his lips. “I mean, absolutely. I want to fuck you. But, um– We should definitely talk about this though.”

“Later,” you say, waving him off, before you lean in to kiss him again. Spencer grabs your waist again, like he needs to have you close. He lifts you slightly, making you squeak, but the both of you stumble over to the bed, unable to keep your hands off of each other, unable to keep your mouths off each other. You sit down on the bed, Spencer crowding you in with one of his knees on the mattress.

You loosen his tie and take it off, while Spencer moves to unbutton your shirt. HIs hands move deftly, eager to undress you, and he pulls away to marvel at the curve of your breasts in your bra when he pushes the satin shirt off of you. “Wow.”

“Wow yourself,” you say. You appreciate the view: a dishevelled, eager Spencer Reid in your bed, his hands all over you, his shirt half-undone, revealing tanned skin and a gorgeous body. “Need you to fuck me right now.”

Spencer laughs, perhaps a little incredulously, and he instead moves to take his shirt off instead. “I’ll- I’ll do that.”

“Good,” you say, distracted as you admire Spencer’s frame, the lines of his body, the softness of his stomach. He’s so hot you might die. “Very good.”

“I’m glad you like the view,” Spencer says, a little timid, like he’s shy to show off in front of you. He meets your gaze when you look up at him, caught in the middle of ogling him with no shame. 

You smile up at him sheepishly. “Please fuck me, Spencer.”

“Okay,” Spencer smiles, warm and gentle. He helps you slide your pants and underwear off your legs before you spread them. Spencer’s jaw drops, his eyes focused on the slick mess of your cunt. “Oh, my God.”

“Yeah?” you laugh, thoroughly amused with his reaction. “Show me how much you want me, too.”

Spencer’s hands are quick to push down his bottoms, dress slacks and boxer-briefs on your floor in an instant, wrapping a fist around himself as he works himself up for you. You can’t tear your eyes off of him – “Spencer, you’re… big.”

“Am I?” Spencer asks, and you’d lose your mind if you weren’t expecting Spencer to fuck your brains out. 

“You are,” you say calmly, because if you let yourself sound any more excited he might think you were insane. “But I can take you.”

Spencer grins. “Good.”

His fingers press against your cunt after you tell him to do so. His slender digits pick up all the slick that’s leaking from your hole, spreading it around messily as he toys with your clit. You shudder with the sensation, throwing your head back against the pillows. Then, one of his fingers slips into you, and he coaxes you open with a care you haven’t felt from most partners before. “How’s that?”

“So nice,” you groan, getting used to the feeling. He fucks you on his fingers, slow and careful, intent on stretching you out until you’re comfortable. You whimper and whine, feeling embarrassed at how vocal you’re being, but Spencer is kissing your breasts without a care in the world, and then you’re thinking about letting him know that you do feel good. Your next gasp is less ashamed, as Spencer coaxes a second finger in.

You’re panting as Spencer fucks you on his fingers, the repeated motion only working you up even more. The squelch from his fingers fucking you is obscene, and his eyes are wide as he looks at you. “You’re perfect,” he whispers. 

“Fuck me, Spence,” you say. 

Spencer bites his lip as he sits up and settles between your legs. He’s tugging at his cock as he lines himself up with your entrance. He slides his length along your folds, wet with your slick, and you groan at the friction. You grunt, wanting more, “Come on, Spence.” 

His hand on your leg, Spencer leans forward so he can press into you, and Spencer is practically folding you in half so he can fuck you. You moan at his thickness deep inside of you, filling you up, and the stretch is so undeniably amazing. Spencer’s length drags against your walls, such a delicious sensation deep in your bones, and you sob a little.

“Does that feel good?” Spencer asks softly, his voice tender. 

“So good, Spence,” you gasp. Spencer kisses your cheek, down your neck, and waits patiently for you to give him the go-ahead.

You feel his cock twitching inside of your heat, both your fantasies unable to live up to the real thing. Confident, cocky Spencer in your dreams is just that – a dream. The Spencer right in front of you is perfect, more perfect than what you’ve dreamed: shy but so attentive and sweet. He takes such good care of you. It makes you lose your mind a little bit.

“Fuck me,” you insist, and Spencer puts his hands on your hips as he starts to move. He fucks you deep, just the way you need him, and you cry out as he digs into your soft flesh, holding you tight so he can fuck you hard. The way Spencer pounds into you has your whole body trembling, pleasure coursing through you like electricity, till your mouth has fallen open and your toes are curling. 

“You’re so much better than I imagined,” Spencer groans, eyes squeezed shut as he puts all his energy into railing you. “Can’t believe this is real.”

You clench around him just to hear him moan, and you’re proud of yourself when his hips stutter and a groan rips through his throat in his pleasure. He glares at you. You grin, as Spencer keeps fucking you.

“What- Oh, fuck– What did you imagine? With me?” You gasp, as Spencer rolls his hips in a particularly deep thrust.

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, before looking down at you, like he’s really contemplating if he should say this. “I– I pictured bending you over the interrogation table. Fucking you, making you scream my name, taking you right there, I–”

You moan as Spencer hits that perfect spot inside of you, your legs trembling as you gasp, “I– Why did we have the same fucking fantasy? Fuck–”

“What? You thought of me that way too?” Spencer sounds incredulous, like he can’t imagine you thinking of him that way– As if he isn’t drilling you into the hotel bed right now.

“Fuck, Spencer– Oh, my God– Yeah, I– You had me pinned down on the table, and you were fucking me in the interrogation room, in front of all of them–”

“God, you’re perfect,” Spencer grunts, burying his head in your shoulder as he uses the leverage to fuck you deeper, harder, faster. You can’t stop moaning Spencer’s name, simply too overwhelmed with the pleasure he’s giving you, the way he’s fucking you into the mattress. This is all you’ve ever wanted. Spencer fucking you like a madman, giving you all the pleasure you need but still being greedy enough to take and take and take. 

“Please! Spencer, you– I’m gonna cum, I can’t–” You cry, sobs wracking their way from your throat, so loud but you can’t be bothered to keep yourself quiet. Spencer groans your name, a sweet, sultry sound, and you feel like you’re going to lose your mind. 

“Cum for me,” Spencer hums. “You’re so perfect, and you’re laid out like this all for me. You’re so fucking hot. Show me how good I make you feel.”

You’re sobbing as your orgasm hits you, overwhelmed by Spencer’s filthy words and his filthier actions, so intense as he fucks you into next week. It’s too good, and you lose yourself much sooner than you expect. Your pussy clenches tight around Spencer with your orgasm, sending him over the edge as he fills you up, cock twitching as he cums inside of you.

He collapses on top of you, his weight comfortable as you both catch your breath. Your mouth feels dry, but you don’t care when Spencer is leaning over to kiss you again. It feels so right, this wild feeling you only thought existed in your dreams.

The next morning when the team is gathered in the hotel lobby to head to the hangar to fly back to Quantico, Emily gives you a pointed look, and Rossi is clapping Spencer on the back with a knowing grin. You apologise sheepishly, while Spencer grows red, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the team. He only meets your eyes, and the two of you share a smile. You can tell neither of you want this to end here. Maybe you’ll talk about it when you get back home. 

[iamthemaestro]

my gender is dead on a battlefield in 1778

[shmpxx]

HE’S NOT MY BOYFRIEND — y.o

⛤ yuuta okkostu x fem! reader

How else would yuuta react if you denied your relationship in front of everyone? You obviously weren’t gonna be let off easy.

cw. smut. (kinda) exes to lovers-ish. thigh riding. semi-public sex. library sex. dry humping. oral (f. receiving). groping. marking. pet names (princess). face grabbing. slight manhandling. +18!

wc: 1.1k

a/n: yall i got a full time job and I’m doing school and i really want to post my fics more bc i love sharing my writing and hopefully this doesn’t sound rushed lol.

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

You practically had to shout it out loud for it to be known. How many times did you have to say it to get through Maki’s skull as she was constantly teasing you about how you and Yuuta used to act like two middle schoolers in love, laughing about it in front of everyone.

You wanted to craddle yourself into a ball hearing it all made you remember the soft moments you had together and then made you cringe about it in every being of your body.

You held hands and tried to catch the perfect moment to kiss but was too anxious to, spent everyday together before he left, he promised to send a call, text or at least email and now he’s back, decides to act all cool, his attitude changes only slightly like he’s all that now, he had fixed his hair to side and his demeanor turns cold. Everything about him and his current presence ticked you off. He didn’t have to stay. You wished he’d go back.

Did you really wish that? Or did you need him to trap you in the darkest aisle of a library where he caught you. Whispering in your ear to take all those awful words you said back while he’s pinning you against the tall shelf, his pelvis is rocking against yours, his lips ambushing your neck. He’s just kissing you and touching you all over, making sure you don’t escape him either. He’s squeezing your tits a bit too hard, leaving too many hickeys.

“Can we just take a moment—“

“Why should we?” his hot breath hitting the shell of your ear, traveling down your jawline. His hand squishing the sides of your cheeks to turn your head to the side to gain access to your neck. You could feel his wet muscle and his warm lips glide over your skin, his hand on the back of your ass, squeezing it and also pulling you more into him.

The slight change in yuuta was quite scary, he wasn’t as soft as he used to be. He’s leaving marks and his hips are moving recklessly. He knows it will be so much better if he could take your clothes off and be bare already to fuck you like he is your boyfriend, you’re all his.

He guides his leg between your legs under your skirt, his thigh grazing your covered cunt and his hands situated on your hips to rock you against his thigh.

“Didn’t you think it hurt my feelings when you said that in front of everyone?”

You couldn’t look him in the eyes knowing his eyes bore into you, he was looking for an apologetic look from you but you were too distracted by looking down watching as he was driving your hips to desperately drag on his thigh. He was pressing his leg harder into you making you finally let out out moan. The shame you felt when you realized you were in a public place making such noise.

“I was just telling the truth..hah…” your tone with half of regret and moans by yuuta forcing your hips to grind on him, your clit throbbing from the harsh friction and you’re already leaving a damp on his leg.

The way your words were set in annoyance and anger like you truly disregard the fact that you and yuuta never had a thing going on and this frustrates yuuta when he replays how you yelled that he wasn’t your boyfriend.

“I am your boyfriend, i just wanna make sure you don’t forget that princess” He pulls down your bottoms and he’s on his knees with his hands on the sides of your thighs like he’s kneeling to an angel which you were to him and you never thought so with all the built of negativity you had towards him.

“Alright i get it—“

He doesn’t think you do, he wants you to understand that you were his and he was yours. Why would he stop here? He’s already pulling down your underwear and your anxiety strikes at you when he gives your pussy a gentle kiss and you gave out a yelp, you kept your eye down the aisle to see if people would pass by. Your hand is slightly hovering over your mouth, so you’re still emitting small moans.

“C-come on yuuta—quit it already..ah!” You would rather move somewhere with more privacy though yuuta doesn’t care a place, he was too busy making out with your cunt now, his tongue flicked and sucked on your clit.

And it was not enough for him he had to prop your legs on his shoulders that your back pressed against the shelf of books more and you gasp by the sudden feeling of being weightless with your feet off the ground and yuuta buries his lips, his tongue to eat you out.

You cursed under your breath not knowing where to put your hands, you wanted to support yourself to not fall though yuuta would never let that happen and yet also drown in bliss with your hands gripping his black locks. the anxiousness and the pleasure clouding your mind at the same time.

Your trying your best to keep it down and your constant repeated pleas. Yuuta was lapping his tongue from the outside of your walls to your clit and something ignited deep in the pits of your stomach that just made you push your hips further into his face. It doesn’t seem like he was gonna stop anytime, he was so focused his eyes were shut thinking about how good you taste and how he had never got the chance before. he can tell that your twitching to cum soon and your sobs getting a little louder.

“Gonna cum! Gonna cum! Gonna cum!” You squealed, your legs wrapped around the back of his neck and your heels digged into his back, your spine arching off of the shelf and your eyelids flutter.

“Cum on my mouth princess, I’m all yours…” the way his voice melted your heart all over again, causing butterflies to fly in your tummy, made your orgasm come faster but also made you feel shamed and entirely hate it for feeling this way.

The moan of his name being let out so indecently that people might hear or probably did. Feeling the waves of you cumming flow through your body and his mouth hasn’t yet disconnected from you.

Yuuta looks up at you like this was just the beginning. You’re forced to wrap your arms around his neck when his hands comes under behind your knees, you still had no chance of keeping your feet on the floor. He’s already planning to fuck you with the zip of his pants and his cock freeing out, make you cry out a million times repeatedly that your his and he’s yours.

Now you’re gonna have to take everything you said back.

[darnell-la]

how about dark-stepdad!logan and human!female-reader? Like logan just marry her mom so that he can easily get all nasty and pervy with her daughter👀

note: our most active author's birthday was yesterday, so we’ve been pretty busy. we apologize for the gap in our posting but trust me, we have a lot of posts coming. stay tuned!

———

“It’s my big day today, sweet pee,” Logan walked into y/n’s room without knocking. “Hmm?” Y/n asked as she covered herself up and placed her phone to the side.

“I said, it’s my big day today,” Logan repeated himself as he closed and locked her room door. “Room’s coming along. You like it here, princess?” He asked as he made his way over to the young lady.

“Yeah, but I’ll be moving out soon into my dorm. Did you know that mom-“ y/n went to say before Logan cut her off. “About that, sweetheart. Been meaning to talk to you,”

Logan sat down on y/n’s bed, facing her as she covered herself. She was in her laced gown since she had just woken up. She wraps her robe around her whenever she needs to leave the room.

“I can’t lie, but I’ve been a little sad lately,” Logan said, hand rubbing her cover as she grew confused. “Why?” She asked, hoping the wedding he and her mom had just had yesterday, wasn’t a mistake.

“I feel like it’s shitty of your old man, but I’ve just been thinking about me and your mom. Not just since last night, but even before,” the man said, making y/n look down. She liked Mister Howlett and didn’t want him to leave like the rest.

“I’ve just been distracted. Been distracted for years with your mother, but I’ve yet to act on it,” he said. “What’s been distracting you? Maybe my mom or I could help you,” Logan chuckled low as she softly shook his head.

“Oh, you can help me, bub,” Logan’s hand slowly traveled up her thigh, through her covers. “Just had to secure everything before I made a move,” the man said as he tugged on her covers.

“I-I’m not dressed appropriately,” y/n said. “Hey, we’re all family here, right? I don’t think it’ll be a big deal if your stepdad sees his girl,” y/n’s hands loosened, thinking to herself that it should be fine.

“There ya go. Been thinkin’ about you all night, you know? As soon as that ring was placed on my finger, I knew I had you,”

Y/n was confused about what her stepfather was saying as his hand rubbed her bare thigh. “You’ve grown up, bub. Dressed all pretty and rich. You like daddy's money?” He asked her, catching her off guard because she’d never called him dad.

“Y-Yes,” she stuttered as his hand came up to her face, allowing a finger to rub down her lip. “Yes, what, princess?” He asked. “Y-Yes, daddy,” she said, knowing that was what he wanted to hear.

“Good girl,” Logan sat up and climbed under the covers, pulling her body to lay fully so how could hover over his stepdaughter.

“M-Mister Howlett, what are you doing?” Y/n asked, hands on her chest since she had no idea where to put them. She was confused and shocked by his words and touches.

“Ssh, ssh, now. Don’t wanna wake your mom,” Logan said as his finger hooked around her panties. “Mister Howlett! I-I can’t do that,” y/n took one hand to grab his wrist, but he stopped her by pinning it next to her head.

“Nah uh! You lay still,” the man demanded as he continued pulling her panties down her legs until they were off. “Pretty little panties. Always wanted to go underwater shopping with you,” the man said as he took them to his nose.

Logan sniffed hard, taking in every last drop she had let soak into the laces overnight.

“Sweet,” Logan spoke before placing them in his sweatpants pocket. “Mister Howlett, please. I-I can’t do this to my mother,” y/n said, eyes already glossy from the size over her. He was intimidating.

“It’s okay, princess. She won’t know. I promise she won’t,” Logan said as he reached into his sweats to pull out his cock. When he did, y/n felt her heart skin.

She’s had sex before. Multiple times, but Logan was huge, and her mother’s husband. He was her stepdad.

“It’s okay, don’t run,” Logan gripped y/n’s waist to pull her back into him. “Just relax, and it’ll go smoothly. Needa trains you for future days,” Logan said. He wanted to do this more often.

“N-No, Mister Howlett! I-I can’t do this,” y/n went to roll off of the bed, but the man wrapped a hand around her neck, choking slightly so she wouldn’t be able to get out of his hold.

“You’re gonna lay right here and take it. You’re too grown to be worried about your mommy,” Logan pouted at the end as he moved in between her legs. “Logan stop!” Y/n yelled at the man, which surprised him.

The man disconnected his hand from her neck and slapped it over her mouth, preventing any other stupid action from coming from her.

“Gonna have you punish you for that,” Logan harshly pushed at y/n’s entrance, fighting his way through her until her walls fully covered him.

The young lady cried in his hand, feeling an instant pressure grow in her stomach. His size was forcing an orgasm to rip from her system.

“Squeezing me so fucking tight, bub,” Logan said with a rough tone, snapping him instantly to feel her cunt coat his cock. She was a leaking mess.

“L-Logan!” Y/n tried clawing at the man’s chest, but that didn’t phase him. “Fuck, baby- You keep doin’ that, and ima get angry,”

Y/n continued as the pleasure built throughout her body. She couldn’t help the moans that escaped.

For a second, she thought about stopping and letting him take over her body. She felt too good to keep her act up, but she didn’t want to be too easy. She was embarrassed by how good her stepfather made her feel.

So y/n fought harder. Scratching the man aggressively and surprisingly pulling blood. “Fuuuuck!” The man groaned loudly as he gripped y/n’s mouth.

Y/n wanted to keep scratching and make the man stop, but she froze once she saw something she’d never seen before. The man’s wounds healed right in front of her face. It’s like she never scratched him.

“Didn’t want you to find out his way, baby,” Logan spoke after a long pause of silence. The man leaned down, getting closer to her face as he thrusted in her slowly.

“I’m one of those mutants from back then, but that shouldn’t be a problem. All that means is that I can take care of you. I’m the only one that can, sweetheart,”

Logan buried his face into the young girl's neck as she tilted her head back, allowing him to suck. “Gonna treat my little girl so good,” Logan mumbled as y/n slightly wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him close to her body.

Y/n couldn’t think about her mother anymore. Not while Logan was all inches deep in her, twitching and ready to cum. She stayed his good girl for the morning and whenever else he needed her to be.

[anadiasmount]

hello again? - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: weddings and dates. feelings tested to their breaking point when one of you appears with a date. the night is young, is there still a chance to make things right even when it feels wrong?

wc: 4k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa 🗣️: HAD SOO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS!!! this wa smeant to be posted yesterday so I'm sorry for the small delay!! i love the drama and angst but fluffy ending as promised!!🤞🏻 like always hope you enjoy! 🤍

“i going to need five painkillers by the end of the night,” the bride, well, your best friend says. you laugh as you finish tucking in the last few bobby pins in her updo, making sure no flyaway or small bumps are seen, everything sleek and perfect. “i am too. or maybe many many many tequila shots, whichever is first available,” you joke. 

“you should be all set!” you say cheerfully with a full smile on your face, hands resting on her shoulders as she admires your work. “it looks absolutely perfect, thank you! you’re truly a life savor i was ready to cancel the whole wedding,” your friend's eyes glimmer in relief, having a huge weight lifted off her shoulders as you did her hair. the hairstylist had to cancel the day of due to having a family emergency, but refunding her money was the least she could do. 

all the bridesmaids surrounded you, complimenting the hair and most importantly the bride who could just be overall thankful and full of emotions. the photographer came in, taking individual and group pictures of everyone, and opening a bottle of champagne to start the day. 

there were still a couple of hours left so you did some touch-ups on hair and makeup, assuring to add some powder to set and spray a setting mist to ensure it would last all day, also being generous with the hair spray. you changed into the olive green-toned dress and the black pumps for the evening, the dress hitting the correct angle and not interfering with you walk. a simple gold bracelet and matching earrings completed the look, walking out and earning praises from your girlfriends. 

your heart began to race faster approaching the reception, suppressing any feelings away because you felt it wasn't the time. the wedding nerves were killing you but also seeing jude again was making you stress more than it shouldn't have. how he was. what he'd wear. if he was even going to be there?

with jude's schedule, it was hard to even make time for each other, being one of the main reasons for your messy breakup. your promotion to the law firm, move to spain, his recovery, media, games, and the always questioning each other's every move. it took a toll especially on you, crossing yourself every night knowing you couldn't do anything about it except long for him.

he was your every thought since then. if he missed you? how his life was going? if he also desired to get back together? as hard as it was you still felt more than love for him. the feeling in your tummy spreading as you remember the first times with him. the kiss, the date, the sex, the love, all of it.

"i've ordered your favorite, now tell me where i can help you," jude says kissing just below your ear returning from outside where he placed a call. you hand him your flashcards pulling out your notebook to read the different scenarios that match with the words.

"just so you know, before we start, i'll have you know i want something in return," jude whispers with a cheeky grin. "of course you do, what is it," you ask teasingly your arm wrapping around his shoulders waiting for his response.

"a date. i want you to go out on a date with me y/n..." jude says earning a silence from you. your nails rake against the back of his neck, "i'd love too. just so you know, depending how much you help me with determine the commitment to our first date..."

"i promise to be on my best behavior then."

"y/n! are you ready?" your friend waved her hand in the air with a confused look, you immediately snapped back into reality as you stepped out to the reception. "does everyone have their flowers? remember they go in your right hand!" the party organizer reminded you as you quickly got into line with the groomsmen.

it all happened quickly, you smiled at alex who quickly got into place arm wrapped with yours as you walked down the aisle as rehersed. the reception was absolutely beautiful. the tears, the vows, the laughter, the ceremony couldn't have been more perfect. you hated to admit but your eyes did search around for jude, and once you saw him, a sensation in you went numb.

there jude sat with a girl to his side who clearly hadn't read the dress code. placing kisses all over his hand and cheek, the love dazed in her eyes as she stared at jude. jude did reach over a few times and she giggled, making your weak heart wrench further.

jude on the other hand started to get impatient, especially with carla who wouldn't stop annoying him and trying to get his attention every few seconds. since breaking up with you he couldn't stand the PDA towards him or seeing it. jude quickly found it difficult since most of his teammates were married or in committed relationships.

it seemed like everywhere he went, there were reminders of you lingering around. the library you studied and where he took you on a desk in a quiet corner, the cafe where you'd get your morning coffee with him, even his training center, and the beranabeu where he hoped and waited you'd be there. he was miserable and driven to his breaking point.

jude began to regret bringing carla, as she got the wrong message and was all over him. the wedding you planned to go to together, where you were supposed to be his date, not her. but his stupid jealousy and talks from others were the fault he was here today. he was anticipating meeting your boyfriend or date, make the message clear he was going to be in the picture.

he hated to think of someone else when it wasn't him. it ticked him off and he knew he couldn't do anything about it because you weren't there anymore. but no one said he couldn't feel the way he felt. to hate the man who would forever make you laugh, or earn your love at the end of the day.

all those promises, the kisses, the hugs, the forever after you guys created was long gone. it hurt jude to the point where he had nightmares, not being able to sleep. it didn't help when they teased or made comments to him. or the fact a rumor went around you moved on and had someone else.

"carla, do you mind getting some drinks while i say hello to some friends?" jude kindly asks removing her hands from his chest. "anything for us jude! i'll wait for you by our table," she winks at him making jude internally cringe as she walks off.

he dabs up his friends, congratulating the groom and making small talk. "oye jude! que pasa chaval!? i didn't think you'd come," his shorter teammate brahim greeted him. "well i'm here aren't i? how are you? como estais?" jude mocked earning a chuckle from him.

all of his teammates suddenly surrounded him, laughing and discussing the plays for the game before, and the tactics for the upcoming one. jude looked around trying to look for you and carla. he fixed his suit every now and then, entranced with his friends. "who did you come with?" asked brahim, looking around for what presumably could be you.

"an old friend, her name is carla," jude winces at his friend's look. “i thought you were coming with y/n?” asks brahim earning a deep scowl from jude. “no we uh- we broke up a while ago,” jude squints his eyes, eyes finding you where you laughed loudly with your friends.

“but she’s here?”

“yeah but probably not alone,” jude retorted still convinced you were seeing someone and they were here. “what?” brahim laughs at him earning an eye roll from jude, “you can’t be serious! i’m pretty sure she’s single,” brahim says. “what are you playing at here jude?”

“nothing. i’m here for the wedding,” jude scoffs. “yeah sure you are,” brahim squints his eyes then looks around starting to walk off. “when you come to your senses, i’ll wait for you over there. remember not everything seems to be exactly as you seem jude…” he smacks his shoulders and walks off.

you’d probably been on your third glass of champagne by now, enjoying the presence with your girls as you spoke about the wedding and old throwbacks together. the speeches were made and the newly weds had their first dance already. anyone at the event center was dancing, talking, or drinking.

“i’ll be right back, i'm pissing myself,” you excuse yourself laughing at joke as you step away to do your business. you brought along your bag, washing your hands and touching your your makeup that had smudged a bit after the maid of honor speech. applying a fresh coat of lipstick and gloss you dabbed the excess off and headed outside.

you motion to your friends you we're head to the bar, them mouthing to bring shots of tequila and some peanuts to eat. “i don’t think we’ve met before,” a strange voice says behind you, you turn slowly, feeling your chest sink deeper as you place a small smile. “i'm carla,” the girl introduced herself, watching as you hesitated taking her hand.

“i feel like i’ve seen you around somewhere, i just can’t put a finger to it. you know huge town but small circle of friends, i was invited last minute to the wedding so,” carla spoke falsely making you want to walk out the conversation. you nodded along not really caring and wanting to go back. part of you hated the way you were treating her, but it was all the jealousy talking. she had done nothing to you besides show up here with him.

“i’m sorry but my friends are waiting for me,” you apologize letting the bar tender know where you were seated. you grabbed a fresh glass of champagne and standing up, grabbing your bag and walked away. “leaving so soon? i was hoping we could talk,” she approaches you again making you turn again but this time a bit agitated since you were catching on to what she was doing.

“like i said, my friends are waiting for me,” you shrug nonchalantly seeing her cock her head to the said and look you up and down. “well i didn’t catch your name,” she sarcastically says, the anger building in you slowly as she spoke and wanted to rub onto your face who she was here with.

“i’m y/n, but i feel like you know that already.”

“oh you’re the ex-girlfriend!” the girl enhanced the oh, with a fake smile. rage burned in your veins, needing to have resistance before you put her in her place. she had been on it the whole night, and she began to test your limits now. 

“you must be the new girlfriend!” you returned the fake smile and took a huge sip of the champagne. “almost couldn’t tell…” you shrugged looking for an escape route but landing eyes with the man you avoided the whole night. his mouth agape and wide eyes. 

he wore a black suit and white button up, leaving three buttons undone, hair styled and a fancy watch adorning his wrist. you felt tugged into the eye contact, needing and wanting to be the one next to him tonight. but instead here you were, giving your attention to the person you hated most. 

your jaw clenched, turning your attention to your glass where you swirled the drink. “it’s a shame you guys didn’t work, but don’t worry! i’ll take better care of him,” she snarled. “jude spoke so much of you, honestly don’t see anything fascinating about you. have a goodnight.” 

you downed the drink in one go, feeling the burn in your throat as you placed the glass onto the empty table. jude frowned at your state, still overly confused and waiting for your date to appear. then it all clicked in his head, you didn’t bring anyone, you didn’t bring a date. the jealousy and anger disappearing in him slowly as he watched you sit down and sigh covering your head in your hands. 

“what did you say to her?” he questioned his date, seeing a smirk appear on her lips. jude turned back to you where you looked around in a trance, knowing immediately you felt the anxiety in you. 

“what had to be said. it’s all done.” 

“what’s done? what are you doing?” jude spit out dragging her to an empty hall where she just chuckled. “i told her what needed to be said. closed a chapter and now we’re starting a new one,” carla spoke crossing her arms. “i brought you here as a companion, not as my girlfriend or anything more. i think you’re getting the wrong message here,” jude said shaking his head.

“what do you mean jude?”

“i never asked you to do that, carla. you had no right to do that. i brought you here as a companion, not my girlfriend or anything else,” jude makes it clear to her seeing confusion flash into her eyes, now beaming with embarrassment. “i don't get it jude?”

“that i don’t intend to start a relationship with you. i’m sorry if i have given that impression but i can’t. what did you say to her?" jude demands his tone going softly as he walks towards her. "i thought i had said what needed to be said so we could finally be together!"

"y/n is too busy with herself. she got herself a promotion and is focused on her studies! she can't give you what you want and ask for jude! she's nothing compared to me," carla points to herself as she speaks all mumbled.

"and you can? what you did just now, what impression does that give to me carla? the way you're speaking about someone who you don't know, and never will?" jude defends you, deeming the need to even if you weren't there. she opens her mouth to speak but closes it immediately, knowing nothing could fix the situation. "i'm sorry-"

"save it. we both know you don't mean it," jude scoffs and walks off, back into the reception where you're nowhere to be found. he wandered off for a few minutes looking for you, even asking some people around him and they all gave him the same response that they hadn't seen you.

you had walked off back to your friends after a mini breakdown and questioning your life. beginning to blame yourself for everything when it shouldn't. it was both your faults but yet it hurt to hear her say nothing was fascinating about you. you shouldn't have let her words get to heart but what if they were true?

what if you were stuck in your own world and couldn't bother to make time for him? what if you didn't give enough attention especially when he most needed it? to be worried only in the moment and not live your life to its fullest? a couple shots and dancing later you found yourself seated at your table alone, watching you friends dance without their heels drunkly laughing off.

"where are you even going?" jude asks you, seeing how you packed every item away into suitcases. "clearly far way from you. i can't stand it anymore, you're never here jude!" you yell throwing your hand sin the air.

"you're never here and i'm tired of it jude. it's always some bullshit excuse and if you truly cared you'd see that but you don't. i'm not wanted here so the faster i leave, the better for us," you say zipping up the final case.

"you're being ridiculous," jude laughs in disbelief, approaching you but you warn him to not get near you. "this is what i mean! i can hardly recognize you nowadays! i'm done jude. done," you say loud and clear.

"leave. i never needed you anyway." you turn around facing him, a flash of regret filling in his eyes as you look at him in pure disbelief. "you did, or you wouldn't be standing here if it wasn't for me."

you share your head at the memory, heading to the empty bar to return the empty glasses, feeling the need to clean up the mess and grab a small snack and final glass of champagne walking out to the outdoor balcony for a breath of air. "y/n?" you look up, not feeling sleepy or drunk anymore, standing up straight as jude approaches you.

was it possible to feel your heart shatter into millions of pieces over and over again? to feel the pit of your stomach turn at the sight of your ex-boyfriend? to feel utter pain when it was supposed to be a happy day? "jude..." you croak, looking away and biting the inside of your cheek.

he rests his forearm on the bar railing looking at you, trying to read you as you looked forward. silence fell upon you, but there was no denying that your hearts began to sprint faster at the closeness of the two of you. "did you need something?" you softly ask, taking a sip of the drink. "i wanted to talk," jude states firmly.

"are you sure? i don't think your girlfriend would like that," you attempt to joke but it earns you a frown from jude who just shakes his head. "i'm not sure she would, i'll just leave this here and go-" you try to walk away but he stops you, softly gripping your wrist refusing to let you go.

"she's not my girlfriend, she also left a while ago..." jude says, seeing you finally lock eyes with his. a deep laugh rumbles from his throat a painful smile stretching along his adorned face, "my first reaction would've been that too, if you had shown up here with someone else."

"i don't get it, why are you here then?" you feel the need to ask, get some sort of answer to relieve the pang in your chest. "why bother being here when you still brought her."

"because i was jealous, there i said it. i was so convinced you'd show up with someone who wasn't me. that i'd have to face reality and finally accept we're not longer together. that i can't call you mine anymore..." jude confesses, making your eyes glisten with new tears again.

"do you not know how it feels? to still be stuck in the past and longing for hope that one day you'll come back to me? having to face everyday with you on my mind anywhere i go? to have vivid dreams of you?" jude frowns, his once rough voice turning delicate as he brought a hand wiped your tears. "i can't stand it anymore."

"i thought this whole time before coming here, you were with someone else. everyone told me you had moved on and looked in a better place and all i could feel was bitterness. it wasn't fair, but i was so wrong y/n. so wrong to the point where i brought someone who could never love me like you did..." jude wiped his own tears away at the state of you.

you felt like you couldn't move, stuck in the same place as you heard his voice. the voice that one day soothed you to sleep, to calm you down, to look forward to at the end of the day. was it possible to feel this emotionless? to have no more tears left to cry? a sob emerged you, covering your face and attempting to control your breaths.

"who said i stopped? i may have an idea of what you feel like, let's be real. i don't know quite frankly who told you i moved on, but that's all lies. i can't do that knowing i still feel the same i did when i first met you," you sniffle taking a gulp and feeling the knot in your throat. "i thought i was fine and could handle seeing you, but my oh my was i incorrect... to see her with you, for her to come up to me and speak the way she did? for a second i thought 'where is my jude'?"

"i'm right here..."jude grabbed your hand and placed it on his heart, bringing it up to his jaw and resting his face on your palm. "don't you see it though? we're back where we ended off. do you possibly think we're good for each other when it seems like we're only hurting?" you question him.

"i've lived everyday thinking i wasn't enough or that i couldn't give you what you wanted jude," you shook your head in disappointment, "i want to fix things i do, but i'm scared that if we do this again, we're going to end up back here confessing our wrongs and tears. the way i felt the day we broke up doesn't compare to now..." you say, jude going quiet and looking down in defeat.

"i miss you so much jude," you choked on your own words, a fresh wave of tears overpowered the dry ones, holding onto jude upper arms as he leaned down and engulfed you into a deep hug. jude repeatedly kissed your head, choking on his own sobs as he repeated how much he missed you.

"i hope you know i'm still so madly in love with you y/n. i've never felt this way for anyone and it seems like its meant for you and you only,"j jude says making you giggle. "i'm serious pretty girl. i'm serious about you and us. i always was and i made the mistake of letting you go once, but i'm not here to do that again. i'm here to grant all of the promises we made," jude holds your face, seeing your red eyes and slightly smudged makeup, still more beautiful than ever.

"all of them?"

"every single one of them."

"i feel like we should talk more about it," you insist, seeing jude nod and agreeing with you. he tightens his grips on you waist leaning further down closer to you. "yes we do and we will, but right now i want to kiss you..." he asks and you grant. he sucks in a breath lips devouring yours after months, holding and kissing you how you liked and deserved.

you held onto his suit, tiptoeing up and deepening the kiss further, being able to taste his minty whisky scent. "come with me. we won't talk about everything tonight but i really just want to be here with you," jude says, sitting down on a small couch laid outside. you immediately follow and cuddle into him like you used to. you place a final peck onto his lips. "wait my drink-" jude holds your waist giving you a look with a playful smile.

"i think that's enough for tonight."

[fandomxo00]

You being Peter and Wanda's mom - Erik Lehnsherr - X-men Days Of Future Past

PLEASE GO READ MY PINNED POST!

*originally posted on my old account that I've deleted*

warnings: unedited, mature context, time passing, angsty, using google translation for Czech-

word count: 2.9k

Erik used to admire you. You remember when you first met him, he practically adored you. He wanted everything to with you, would pull aside, grabbing your attention and making you feel what he was feeling. As an empath, that wasn't hard to read his emotions and with you he always wore his heart on his sleeve. But the difference between you and Erik were the fact that you were different types of mutants. He was an active one, all powerful. And you had inactive traits that wouldn't be conducive in battle. That didn't mean Erik didn't drag you on missions, to not only read feelings of others but to control them so Erik could get what he wants. That's what drew the two of you apart, his evil his plans, they scared you, especially when you discovered you were pregnant. You refused to tell him, especially since you knew the infatuation he had with you was only for a short while. He wouldn't love you and he never could, especially if he found out the truth.  

You wouldn't know how he felt now, it had been 25 years since the first time you had seen him, and you've had two kids since then. Peter had began harnessing his powers, it started out from a young age of having a diagnosis of ADHD, though you knew it was something different, that it was his powers were the reason why he couldn't control his behavior and he to always be moving or talking. You don't know how you didn't break apart in front of him the next time you saw him. You had finally taken a night off for yourself when you saw him again at a bar. You felt the immediate rush of affection and lust that radiated off of Erik, because of course you felt him before you could actually see him. You had been stupid enough to turn towards him a seductive smile on your face as you met his blue eyes.

"Long time no see." You greeted.

"How awful it has been, liebling." He countered, you rolled your eyes at the pet name and moved your eyes towards him as you spoke in Sokovian.

"Nemůžu říct, že bych byl naštvaný tvou nepřítomností." (I can't say I'm upset by your absence) Erik chuckled at your retort, he wasn't fluent in Sokovian but he had gotten used to the language and picked up the language easily.

"Nelži." (Don't lie).

"You've always been so full of yourself." You added, throwing back your drink. Banter was dangerous for you and Erik, it always led to fights and fights usually led to sex, which in that night, had happened. Peter had stayed with your mother as Erik brought you to meet Charles and the rest of the mutants. Charles had never meant an empath, so he wanted to know more, that's when he found out the truth, digging into your mind with your permission. You did your best not to think of your son, but that wasn't how Charles powers worked and he had asked Erik to leave the room as he brought your son in conversation.

"I think you should go. Your son needs you." "Will you take care of him?"

"Erik doesn't need my protection." Charles retorted. You stared over at him, not using your powers but wearing your heart on your sleeve.

"He would make a good father, it's not right for you to keep this from him."

The guilt has sunk into you, clung onto you like a cancer. Erik had crawled into your bed that night and the two of you made love before you left. You wonder if you were the reason why Erik had done what he had done to Charles, but you knew that deep down that was a part of him no matter what you could've done. You've never tried to stop. him.

A couple months later you discovered you were pregnant again and as you saw Erik fall apart in front of everyone, killing the president and being taken away and captive. For once you finally felt like you had nothing to hide but as Peter grew his powers became more evident as he sped around the house when he was too excited. Your daughter, Wanda, had different powers. When she was young, you gave her a ruby necklace after you first came in contact with the younger girl's power. She was strong, maybe even stronger than her father. You eventually learned that her she had been born with the ablitiy to control chaos magic.

Though she had a dark power like her father, she was a sweet and caring girl, where her old brother focused on the go-go, Wanda was able to stop for a moment taken in her surroundings and adapt, she paid attention and she cared so deeply about those around her. But now it had been another 11 years, you were older and Peter and Wanda had grown up. Peter was now 22 years old, and you couldn't believe the reminders of his father in him. He had made the basement his own, and you wondered where he was during the day but one day when you went down to talk to your son you noticed the plentra of snacks, tvs and different things that Peter had 'collected' with his powers.

So you weren't suprised when yet again someone came looking for your reckless son. You opened the door to greet the strangers, one tall man with a beard and sunglasses, another man with glasses who was slightly taller than the bearded man, and a who was shorter than both with long hair-it was, "Charles?" You greeted.

"Y/n Maximoff." Charles chuckled, he looked much more dishelved since the last time you had seen him. He hadn't shaved, he was wearing sunglasses over his eyes and the shirt he was wearing was stained and uncleaned, this wasn't the Charles Xavier you had met over a decade ago. He pushed up his classes with his middle finger and looked over to the taller boy, regonizing him as Hank.

"We uh, need to talk to your son."

"What did he do this time?" You questioned.

"Nothing, we just-."

"We have to break Erik out of the pentagon, and we need his-your son's help." You glared over at Charles before turning to the taller man and the man with sunglasses sighing. You felt something odd radiating off of the man with sunglasses, his face expressed maybe annoyance or that he didn't care but his aura and emotions, he was desperate.

"Come on in." You moved back, letting the three of them in. Wanda came wondering over, her hair was red like her fathers and it made the man with the sunglasses pause in his place as he cleared his throat.

"Wanda, why don't you go to your room."

"Why?" She asked.

"Because we have to have an adult conversation and I don't trust that you won't listen in." You replied, putting your hands on your hips.

"Fine." You grumbled, as she walked into her room, red magic flowed through the air and closed the door gently.

"She's a mutant, aswell?" Charles questioned.

"Yes, she has the natural ability to control chaos magic." You answered before opening the door to Peter's room.

"Pete, we have company." You yelled down the stairs and moments later there was a quick woosh, barely noticeable but you knew your son. You trudged down the stairs and you were met your son playing Ping Pong, as if he hadn't run out to check out their car. "Peter, this is Charles, Hank and..."

"Logan." He replied, taking off his sunglasses, as Peter wooshed around the air, still listening to your words but he still loved to move.

"You know them? Because I didn't do anything." Peter defeneded, as he continued to play ping pong, before moving over to the couch with a popsicle in his hand. "I've been here all day, right ma?"

"Just relax, Peter. We're not cops." Logan replied as Peter glared at him, his arms up around his head to defend nonchalance but you couldn't feel his defenses coming up.

"Of course you're not cops. If you were cops, you wouldn't be driving a rental car." Peter explained.

"How'd you know we've got a rental car?" Xavier asked.

"His ability is speed." You began to explain as Peter groaned. "I'm assuming he went out to go check your registration."

"You can't just tell people that mom." Peter argued as you rolled your eyes.

"I know Charles, he-we go back..."

"Did you know my dad?" Peter questioned. "Are you FBI?" He zoomed across the room, stealing Charles' wallet. "Nope, you're not cops. Hey what's with this gifted youngsters place?"

"That's an...old card." Charles trailed, as he grabbed his things from where Peter threw them down.

"Why, he's fascinating." Hank commented.

"He's a pain in the arse." Grumbled Charles.

"And when I knew him, he wasn't so...young. Neither were you." He nodded towards you.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh our dear friend Logan here is from the future and we need your son to break someone out of jail so he can help us destroy a massive threat to our future." Charles explained.

"What are you talking about?" Peter laughed.

"So you're not afraid to show your powers?" Hank questioned.

"We usually don't hide our powers around the hou-" You started.

"Powers? What powers? What are you talking about?" Peter interrupted. "Do you see something strange here? Nothing anybody would believe if you told them."

"Peter." You grunted, as he his big brown eyes looked over at you with innocence. "Did you hear a word I said?"

"Yes, why should I help them? A prison break is illegal, you know." "Because that's the first illegal thing you've done." You retorted.

"You, you kleptomanic..." Charles began rubbing at his eyes. "Get to break into the Pentagon."

"And he happens to be your father, Peter, and Wanda's."

"I knew it." Hank breathed.

"So you can trust them, Peter."

"Are you coming with, Ma?" Peter replied as you started to chuckle shaking your head.

"You don't need me, I'm not like them or your sister. I'll just be in the way."

"Don't you wanna see him?" Charles asked, as you looked over at him, a serious look overcoming your face as you looked down before shaking your head.

"I've hidden two children from him, like he'd want to see me." You joked.

"I know he would, when you left." Charles began as you looked over at the dishelved man. "He knew."

"About?"

"Wanda." You stared at Charles before speaking.

"Well since you're breaking him out, if he wants to come see us, he can, he could've before too." You cleared your throat before glancing over at Peter and giving him a nod before walking up the stairs. You tried not to drown in your memories as Peter went out to help his father. You knew that this would do some healing for him, so you encouraged him to go. It was your fault that they didn't know their father, but you wouldn't blame it completely on yourself especially since he knew about Wanda. You and Erik tried to keep the relationship surface level, but in all truth, you had fallen in love with Erik. It had started with friendship, the two of joining arms and when it came to the mission in Cuba, you had left with him, leaving Charles behind. You weren't going to stay for some false sense of being good, as you've watch mutants flee back into the shadows you knew that Charles plans were just a pipe dream.

You remember the day on the beach like it was yesterday, you had been crouching over a broken Charles, tears streaming down his face, his legs now paralyzed. As a friend, you wanted to stay, but as Erik caught your attention, "Come with us, Liebling." His voice soft as he looked over at you, you felt his rush of emotions, the only thing you could've described it as was love as you left your friend for Erik. At this point, he had to know that you were pregnant, a big reason why he kept you out of the line of fire, telling you to stay where it was safe.

Looking back now you had thought it was because of your powers but it could've been protecting you for more than one reason. But it was impending conversation where he told you that he couldn't have you, that he wouldn't ever feel the way you wanted him to, that you were too good for him. You had argued, telling him that it didn't matter who was better, you didn't have expectations for this relationship you just wanted to be with him. But the reality had sat in, when you thought of your son at home. You thought of the comparisons, the stubbornness, the knowledge that the two had, the good that you found in both of them. But thinking of Erik as a father, it was role now that he clearly hadn't wanted.

"Mom, who were those men here?" Wanda broke you out of your thoughts, making you look over at daughter. You could read the curiousness coming off your daughter. "Where's Peter?"

"You remember when I would tell you stories about your pa?" You murmured, as she came over to you as you reached your arm out for her. She sat in your arm and looked up at you.

"I do."

"Well, your brother is going to go save him." You said, smiling over at her. You moved your hand down to move your red hair behind her ear with a fond smile on your face. The two of you continue to talk about her father, telling stories about mischievous adventures that brought smiles to your girl's face.

Eventually she fell asleep in your arms. You laid her down on couch draping a blanket over her before grabbing a book and settling on the armchair, waiting for Peter. You'd usually go to bed if he was out, he was an adult now, but this was a mission that could send Peter to jail. Not that you didn't believe him that's why you supported him so much in this, you knew he had the ability and strategy that would get out just about any mess.

You had fallen asleep reading your book when you heard the lock in the door. You sat up in your chair and blinked back the tiredness from your eyes before getting up from the chair. Peter walked through the door and you immediately ran up to him and squeezed him tightly. "You're okay."

"Of course I'm fine ma, it's me." Peter joked as he wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you tightly.

"Liebling."

You froze in your son's arms, before moving back and connecting your eyes with Erik Lehnsherr's blue ones. "Erik." You breathed, moving around him before looking back at Peter. "Did you-."

"He uh figured it out."

"Charles told me." Erik corrected, his accent thick and making a shiver run down your spine.

"So that's what your doing here?" You questioned as Erik looked over at Peter before stepping forward into the house. His eyes trailing around the room before landing back on to you. "Your here for the kids."

"Yeah, I'm here to meet my daughter."

"Good, but you'll have to come back, she's asleep."

"Ma-."

"No, it's the middle of night, thanks for escorting Peter home." "You don't get to push me out again, Y/n." Erik agrued, his voice raising as you glared over at him. "I have a right to meet her."

"Peter take your sister to her room, please." You murmured over to your son, glancing over at him with stern gaze before looking back over at Erik. "You've known about her for 11 years, Erik."

"I didn't know about Peter, it's been over two decades and we managed to make another child and you couldn't tell me about him." "You wanted nothing to do with me!" You agrued. "You got bored and you left."

"I was never enough for you, Y/n. For an empath, you clearly have no idea how I feel about you."

"I don't like reading your emotions anymore, last time it hurt-." You started, looking down at the ground. "I could feel that you were rejecting me and I don't want to feel that ever again."

"You know that they were better off without me."

"But I wasn't!" You cried. "I was alone in raising two children and I tried to take pride in it. When I heard you killed the president of the United States, I-I couldn't believe what you done, and I knew that I made the right decision." Erik's eyes flashed in hurt, and he stared you, begging you to read him, but you refused. "Don't you have the world to save?"

"Well, if you care about your children's future, you'll leave." You propositioned. Erik stared at you, not sure what to say before stepping closer to you and leaning down to cup your cheeks in his hands. You stared at him in awe, unable to move away as you looked up into his eyes.

"I'll leave now, Liebling, but I'm coming back and I'm giving you life you deserve, do you understand?"

"Erik-."

"No. Do you understand?"

You nodded.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 12

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: I'm tryna rotate as much as possible.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Her name is Margot. She’s talkative but kind. She guides you through everything with patience. Tells you when to close your eyes and look up, how to hold your head, when to pucker your lips. She even explains exactly what she’s doing and why she’s doing it. Despite her demeanour, you still feel utterly stupid. Rather, you feel inadequate. 

Another woman shows up shortly after, as a brush traces the line of your cheek. She introduces herself as Darla, she has a whole rack of dresses lined up for you. Another inward cringe threatens to compress your lungs. 

As Darla presents you with options, you find it hard to breathe. It’s all so overwhelming, especially as a third woman, Erica, appears to do your hair, and a fourth, Nia, to tend to your nails. You could faint as you’re pushed, pulled, and prodded from all sides. 

“I like the red,” Margot suggests as you hem and haw.  

The dresses are all nice but you don’t even know what you’re picking it for. Honestly, none of them suit you. Too much skin for your liking. Not that that stays much; your comfort is jeans and baggy tees.  

Erika hums, “what about the teal, lovey? I do think you’d look marvelous with those cutouts.” 

“Yes, it is a pretty colour. You have the complexion for it,” Darla remarks. 

They’re all so nice but there’s something pitying in their voices. You feel like a child. You don’t belong here. You especially don’t belong with Bucky, apparently, he knows that too. Why else would he have these women plucking and picking at you? 

Margot finishes and brings you a mirror. As you see yourself, you blanch. It’s not bad. In fact, she’s done better than you could ever manage but you don’t look like yourself. You don’t feel like yourself. If he wants you to be someone else, you don’t think you can do that. 

You feel yourself shrinking. Your shoulders slump and you wilt, stuttering but unable to say a word. Margot touches your shoulder. 

“What is it? Hon, have I done something wrong?” 

“No, no,” you croak and bring your hands to your throat, “it’s nice. Really nice but... I need some air.” 

“Of course, Darl, Nia,” she shoos away the stylist pinning your hair, “let her up.” 

The women back off and the fourth watches you from the rack, still holding a sparkly black get-up. You search the room and swiftly head for the door. You let yourself into the hall, fanning yourself with your half-done acrylics. You’re happy at least they aren’t long. 

You pace back and forth, watching your feet pass over the pattern of the hotel carpet. You can run. You could just leave right now. The thought only makes your stomach hurt. No, you can’t. Not after he’s gone to all this trouble. You’d hate to seem ungrateful. 

You continue your incessant laps back and forth outside the door. You hear footfalls from around the corner and pause. You should go back in before someone sees you. You grab the handle. Shoot, it’s locked. You wiggle it as a shadow appears at the end of the hall. You gulp and peer down. 

It’s him. You lean on the door and face Bucky. He wears a dark blue jacket over a black shirt and black pants. There’s patterning sewn into his jacket, subtle spirals all around. His dark hair his combed back to the ends flip out behind his ears and his dark beard glints with silver strands, a patch more obvious on his chin. He’s strikingly handsome. So much so, you can’t understand why you’re there. 

His brows form a vee as he nears and he tilts his head, a tick in his cheek, “what’s going on, doll?” 

“Um, just... locked out,” you turn the handle again to emphasize your point. 

“No, what’s....” he looks at you and gestures up and down with his hand, “no, this won’t do.” 

You blink and pout. After all that and you’re not good enough. He raps on the door with his knuckles and there’s some scuffing from inside before Margot opens it. She steps back to let you in and greets Bucky by name. 

“This isn’t what I wanted,” he urges you ahead of him, his hand firmly around your arm, “it’s too much. She doesn’t need all this. I told you, just a little enhancement. I don’t want her looking like a Barbie.” 

“Sorry, sir, it’s... standard.” 

“Doll,” he stops you with him as he plants himself near the racks of dresses. The women watch him anxiously. “What do you think? The make up; you like it?” 

You peer around and stare at Margot. She worked so hard and it isn’t that it’s bad work. She made you look gorgeous but you just don’t like all the layers. You slant your mouth one way then the other. 

“Be honest,” he insists. 

“I... It’s pretty but a bit... heavy?” You eke out. 

“I agree,” he lets you go, “I appreciate the hard work, Marg, but I want to see her natural beauty shining. And these dresses...” he turns, “these aren’t right. I said light. I said... Mm, no. Doll, what’s your favourite colour?” 

He faces you as you stand in shock. You feel horrible that he’s reproaching them like this. They’ve done all this for you and he’s just going down a list of everything wrong. 

“Erm, purple, I guess but--” 

“Darla, get her something purple. Lavender? Lilac?” He looks at you for confirmation and you just nod. You won’t correct him. “Erica, finish her hair, something a bit less... stuffy. Margot, clean her face up. Nia, the nails are looking good.” He turns to you and takes you by the shoulders, “and you, all you gotta do is be your cute little self, alright?” 

You gulp and nod. You don’t know what to say. He saves you from a response as he brings his hand up under your chin. He leans in to kiss you and your cheeks flame at the awareness of your audience. He pulls back and caresses your cheek before parts completely. 

He checks his watch, “don’t got all night.” 

He marches off, leaving you dumbfounded. He’s like a hurricane, coming in and blowing everything out of sorts. You look around guiltily. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Margot assures with a smile, “come, let’s get you fixed up, dahling.” 

She beckons you over and sits you back down. You give your hand back to Nia to finish the manicure as Erica once more goes to work on your hair. You stare at the wall and let out a nervous sigh. 

“That’s cute,” Margot says, “the way he looks at you.” 

“Hm, yeah,” Erica agrees, “he definitely has the eyes for ya.” 

You close your eyes as Margot gently wipes away the make up with a cool cloth from a package. You shrug, trying not to move too much, “he’s nice. He... did all this. Just for me. I... I didn’t ask for it. I’m sorry he didn’t like it.” 

“No, baby,” Nia says, “this isn’t about us. It’s about you. What do you like?” 

You open your eyes again and frown. That’s a good question. You lower your gaze to your lap and exhale heavily. 

“I’m figuring it out,” you murmur, “I don’t... I don’t get out much.” 

“Oh, this must be so exciting for you,” Erica trills, “oh, how fun.” 

“I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time,” Nia adds, “don’t be nervous. Just enjoy yourself.” 

“Can’t be that hard,” Margot clucks, “on a handsome man’s arm, pretty as a bow,” she cleans her brushes as she talks, “it’ll be a great night. I’m thinking...” she peruses her chest of makeup, “natural tones. A dewy look. Natural, subtle.” 

“Okay, uh, yeah,” you agree, “that sounds nice.” 

“Hmmph,” Erica hums, “she’s a sweetie, isn’t she, ladies?” 

“Nicer than the last one,” Nia cackles. 

You stiffen and shift in the chair. You look at the nail tech then Margot as she compares a tube to your face and shakes her head. You push your lip against your teeth and let it flick out. 

“Last one?” You whisper. 

The women share a look and smile, “well, Mr. Barnes is notorious. Surely, you know.” 

“Oh,” you think of the headlines you scrolled through online, “well, yes, I know. I guess... I didn’t catch what you meant.” 

“Enjoy it. I’m sure you’ll get a few pretty baubles out of it,” Nia says, “and some memories to long for when you’re old like us.” 

“Old,” Margot scoffs, “speak for yourself.” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I know. I’m just... another girl.” 

“Oh, dahling,” Margot intones, “but he seems really fond of you, doesn’t he? Maybe he’ll keep ya around a bit longer, eh?” 

You just sit there. You knew better than to believe it was anything but the obvious but it’s still a hard pill to swallow. You stare blindly ahead as Margot remoisturizes your skin. 

“Didn’t mean to upset you,” Margot says. 

“I’m not, I just...” you swallow, “I’m nervous.” 

“Mm, nervous? Well, I think that’s what the bar is for. Erica, fetch some of that rose. She needs a glass, Stat.” 

Your mouth opens to protest but you think better of it. You’ve already caused them enough trouble. You thank them instead and try not to let your shame burn through. They know why you’re there and they’ve left no doubt in you of the same. 

“Make sure to pour me some too,” Margot chirps. 

🃏

You stop after one glass. It makes your inside bubbly and eases the tension just enough that you’re not jittering. You feel better but still not certain. 

The women confirm your fears. This isn’t going to last. It’s not like you didn’t expect as much but hearing it is all the more real. You’re going to have to come up with yet another lie to tell. This one will hurt the most because it will be at least halfway true; you’re still a loser. 

You’ll try to take their advice. You’ll enjoy this night; this once in a lifetime experience. You don’t think you’ll ever be in a casino again in your life. They’re not for you. All of this is just above you. It’s better suited to someone like your sister. You can’t help but wonder why it isn’t Roxie here. 

The clock ticks. Well, not truly. The digital numbers count down the minutes as you linger in the suite alone. The gaggle of women left only a few minutes ago but not without a promise that you’re happy. You are, at least with all they did for you. 

You approach the mirror, almost shying away from your own reflection. You look nice. You might even call yourself pretty. Your eyes look more brilliant with the subtle lining and the precisely coated lashes; not too heavy. And your lips, shiny but natural, your cheeks dewy with a hint of colour to them.  

And the dress. Lavender satin with crystals embedded in the fabric, lines of smaller ones interconnecting the larger stones. You turn and check your figure. You look grown up. It’s ridiculous to think but you do. The heels help, not too high but enough to define your legs. 

You turn and tear your gaze away from the mirror. You don’t want to be vain. Besides, you probably don’t look that good. You just look better than usual. The comparison is enough to skew your perception. 

As you teeter on the heels, waiting, for what, you don’t exactly know. You can surmise what it will all lead to. What he intends. You can’t deny it any longer. A man doesn’t do all this for altruistic mean and even you aren’t that pitiful. Well, you hope not. 

A knock at the door trips you up. Your heart lurches. You’re not ready. But it’s getting late and you know it’s inevitable. You can’t move or speak. You just stare towards the door. 

You hear it open. You blink a Bucky’s shadow appears on the carpet and he strides into your sight. Your eyes meet his and his blue irises sparkle as he sees you. He stops and put his hand to his chest. His forehead lines and he bites his lip. 

“Wow, doll,” he rasps breathily and slowly steps forward, “you look...” 

You press your hands to your sides and give a toothy expression, not quite a smile, not quite a grimace. Sweat speckles along your neck as his gaze bores into you. You’re even more self-conscious as he closes in. 

“I don’t know,” you murmur. 

“What don’t you know?” He asks as he reaches for you and takes your hand. He draws you near, “huh? Look at you, doll.” He purrs, “you look spectacular.” His other hand grazes down your side and he squeezes your hip as he holds you at arm’s length and ogles you, “mm, damn. You wanna know what I know?” 

You peer up at him from beneath your lashes, “what?” 

“That you are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. I’m a lucky man to have you walking the floor with me tonight,” he drops your hand and frames your other hip, drawing you to him, “I have half a mind to keep you up in this room.” 

You choke. Your lower lip trembles and you shake your head, “that’s nice but...” you look away. 

“But? You don’t believe me, doll? You think I’d lie?” He challenges. 

“N-no, I didn’t say—but--- before---” you sputter and put your hands on his forearms, “there were others and they were prettier.” 

“Doll, don’t worry about before. This is now. You aren’t them and I’m telling you, you are beautiful,” he trails his hand up and nudges your chin. You look at him again, your cheeks shaking as you try to smile. “Here.” 

He takes your hand, his eyes clinging to yours as he watches you. You can’t look away. Not this time. He leads your hand up his jacket and slips it beneath. He presses it to his chest. You feel the taut muscle beneath and something else. 

“You got my heart racing, doll,” he growls. “That ain’t a lie.” 

[blessedbucky]

based off my own thot because i saw a lack of tentacles in the satosugu/reader tag and took that personally! (i wanted this posted because the brainrot is real right now so apologies if there are any mistakes!)

pairing: satoru/suguru/reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: TENTACLES BABY, so...shibari-ish by proxy?, vaginal, oral, anal, this throuple do be a little fucked up but that's just jjk territory, satoru and reader seeing orders to kill suguru on sight and straight up saying "that sign can't stop me because i can't read!", some jealousy, a mention of exhibition, suguru lowkey being a daddy, i think that's everything

my thanks to @firefly-graphics for the header! i'm tickled pink by it!

I hate you!

There’s a hum, but you’re still not looked at. “Why, my dearest, are you looking at me like that? I don’t think it was me that put you in this situation.” Suguru flips to the next page in his book. His face hasn’t shifted once since this all started. He still wears that same blasé expression, as if he couldn’t be bothered with any of this. “If anything, I’m helping my sweet girl by teaching her a lesson.” Your adrenaline spikes when you watch him raise a hand. “You need to have a stronger backbone, dear…”

Just as you feared, Suguru flicks his fingers. The cursed spirit shifts as it’s commanded to, and the inky black tentacles move deeper. You didn’t even think that was possible! You breathe harshly through your nose as the heavy weight of the tentacle pushes further down your throat. You still gag. Tears blur your vision but it’s not enough for you not to see that Suguru is finally watching you.

Then, Suguru smirks. It’s that shitty, smug one. It’s bait, of course. It always is. That smirk is always followed by something said that’s so egregious that it makes you act up. And, sure enough, “You can’t keep letting our darling Satoru have his way.”

You’re letting him have his way right now, Suguru!

“Ooh, I know that look.” Suguru reaches out. You think that this is it! He’s finally going to touch you! Instead, he lovingly pets at his new favorite cursed spirit. “Let me guess—you think it’s only him that I’m indulging, is that it?” He chuckles at the widening of your eyes. “Aw, that’s cute. You really thought I wouldn’t find out about what you two little perverts are watching and getting off to together.”

Stalker, you think at him as if he can read your mind. Though, with how deep in your guts his curses are, you’d think that he’d be able to do that. Creep. Pervert. It’s not like these things bother you. You’re as half-mad as Satoru. Suguru makes you both so fucking stupid, so you two get home to your apartment, feeling Suguru’s residuals, and think it’s romantic. Right now, you’re just on the verge of breaking down because Suguru won’t touch you.

“I don’t like this attitude,” Suguru remarks. “Satoru is usually the bratty one. Look at how good he’s being right now.”

Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit! This is bullshit! The only reason he’s being so good right now is because you fucked him stupid, and you know it!

Satoru started this whole thing and he’s getting the praise now?!

In the middle of keeping your face pinned down against the mattress by the back of your neck and snapping his hips against your ass, that bastard had leaned over your back and started whispering in your ear. Let’s drop in on Suguru, hmm? It had been over three months since either of you had seen him. There was always this…unspoken rule that you and Satoru do not interfere in Suguru’s world. But then Satoru said, I hear he hired some bitch to be his assistant. We should totally fuck somewhere that she’ll find us. C’mon, baby, let’s make him pay attention to us.

Alright, yeah, maybe you do need to grow a backbone.

Though…it was really worth it to see that bitch’s face when she walked into Suguru’s office to find your head hanging over the edge of his desk while Satoru ruthlessly pounded into you. It was made all the better when Suguru slammed open the door about thirty minutes later and snapped at her to leave him alone. No matter how close his little cult followers or family get, he’ll only ever be fake smiles with them. And you’re as much a greedy little hedonist as Satoru is, so it’s nearly orgasmic to know that only you and Satoru can see every side of Geto Suguru.

You don’t quite remember what Satoru said when he mouthed off to Suguru. All you remember is that beatific smile of Suguru’s and his sugary sweet voice when he said, I see. I’ve been neglecting my darlings. Let’s go to my room, shall we? If you wanted to see me so badly, I’ll let you see me as much as you want.

Unlike Satoru, you had some sense left for you to nervously think, I’m in danger! Common sense flew out the window when Suguru slid one of those obscenely big hands of his under his yukata to tug it loose, though. You and Satoru followed after him like bitches in heat.

Let you two see him, Suguru definitely has done. You see each other, too. Satoru is the picture definition of lewd right now. You don’t want to imagine what shape you’re in yourself. You’re mirror images. On your knees, kept in the perfect pose by the one tentacle that’s wrapped around your ankles and wrists. It forces your backs to arch, putting your breasts on full display. A tentacle didn’t waste time before it was wrapping around your tits, too. Satoru got tentacles locking around his chest, squeezing so hard as to bring attention to Satoru’s pecs. Sensitive little Satoru started having the suckers of tentacles pluck at his nipples and the strongest sorcerer of the modern age turned into a whimpering mess.

The strongest sorceress of the modern age lost every thought in her head when all her holes got filled. A tentacle down your throat, one of the bigger ones thrusting inside your pussy, and another carefully pushing inside your ass. No prep. Even with the tentacles lubricated with something almost sweet, it burned. That just makes it better. Rough is the default setting when you three have sex. Gentleness only comes when you’ve all burned out that pent-up aggressive energy.

You and Satoru were okay with it, at first. That tentacle monster bursting onto the scene behind Suguru was like a wet dream come true. Hell, you didn’t even complain when Suguru propped himself up against the headboard with a book. None of you are a stranger to some edging.

Then, you and Satoru were two orgasms in, and the tentacles hadn’t budged. Suguru was making no move to do so, either. It’s become clear that Suguru’s affection is a double-edged sword. Suguru will spoil you and Satoru…and will turn right around and mercilessly abuse that gift to punish you both. Because Suguru knows how tactile you and Satoru are. You two crave touch, especially Suguru’s. To be denied it for so long…

Satoru’s lashes are clumped together from his tears. He’s overstimulated, exhausted, and silently begging Suguru with those shining blue eyes to end his suffering. You get pissy, though. The defiance and anger are meant to goad him because even a rough touch is still a touch.

“Ngh!”

Suguru isn’t falling for any of it. He snaps his fingers and the tentacles that he’d forced to stop moving about ten minutes ago start thrusting inside you. Satoru’s shout is muffled by the tentacle he’s been deepthroating. The tentacles go from zero to a hundred, pumping inside you at a pace that you both relish and aren’t ready for. Your eyes roll in the back of your head. Just before you come so hard that you’re convulsing and liquid gushes from your pussy, you feel the splatter of Satoru’s hot come across your thighs.

“Alright. No more playing.” Suguru gets on his knees, shuffling forward. He shoves his pants down in one fluid movement, his thick, massive cock slapping against his abdomen. He grips the base of it, holding it out in Satoru and your direct lines of sight. “Suck me off.” The tentacles in both your mouths slips away, leaving you and Satoru drooling and panting. “If you two can work together and make this real good for me, I’ll come in all your holes. How’s that sound, my loves?”

[berry-potchy]

Indulge Me

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x f!reader Rating: Explicit (18+ only please) Word Count: 7,072 Summary: You're a Spiderwoman who has ended up pinned underneath Miguel O'Hara in his lab one too many times. You're not sure what you are to him or what to call your relationship. And that would've been fine until your neediness kicked in and made you catch feelings. Surely, Miguel taking you to his room for the first time means something right? In which your lack of understanding of Spanish and denial of the hints Miguel drops are keeping you from realizing you already have what you want. Tags/warnings: pwp, p in v sex, rough sex, praise + light degradation, multiple orgasms and overstimulation, face sitting/riding, breeding kink, soft dom!Miguel, needy reader, recording, mirror sex adjacent, implied chubby reader, undefined relationship but soft feelings sprinkled in there as a treat, no use of y/n so lots of Spanish nicknames to make up for it, reader does not understand Spanish, brief sexy use of spider webs A/N: this is quite literally just a self-indulgent fic with most of my favorite Miguel x reader flavors. Not beta read but I hope you still enjoy it! (Translations are the end!)

Also on AO3

Edit: turns out some parts got messed up while I was posting here on Tumblr D: it's fine on AO3 though which is weird because I copied from this post instead of my doc because this has the correct spacing. Everything should be fixed now.

•🕷️────✧˖°˖🕸️˖°˖✧────🕷️•

Miguel has you standing in front of him between his parted legs as he sits on the edge of his bed. Even in this position, you were barely any much taller than him, only needing to tilt your head a bit to meet his red eyes. He looks at you from your face, down to the swell of your breast where his eyes are joined by a taloned finger on its journey downwards. You can’t help but let out a soft sigh as the sharp talon cuts through your spandex suit, fully exposing your soft chest to the cold air of his quarters. He would argue that the stretchy translucent mesh with a spiderweb lace design on your chest area didn’t do shit to cover the fullness of your tits anyway so he didn't understand why you even bothered with it. It was for style obviously but riling up Miguel O’Hara was a great bonus. You let out a shaky breath as he continued further down until he stopped right below your navel.

“Que linda,” he says in that low sexy voice of his, very different from the usual grumpy tone he uses to chastise you. He snakes his arms around your hips, bringing you closer to him and his hands find your plush bottom, giving them a rough squeeze. You are getting so worked up by how much attention you are getting from your usually sulky boss. Your heaving chest is right in front of Miguel’s face and his lustful gaze almost feels like it is burning you. The heat spreads from your chest downwards until it pools in the pit of your stomach and between your legs.

“You ruined my suit,” you pout, not really that upset about it. You think it was hot honestly but you just want to tease him “Am I supposed to go on missions with my whole chest out now? Walk around the HQ flashing everyone?”

“Of course not,” he says, rolling his eyes. He continues to take in your figure, hands gently kneading soft flesh on your sides “I’m making you a new suit. Should be done very soon. It'll be the same design but it will offer far more protection than this flimsy thing.”

“Making me a suit just like yours? What so you can control it hm? Deactivate it whenever you want to fuck me?” You laugh, wiping the imaginary tear in your eye until you realize Miguel is silent and looks like he’s been caught red-handed. You lightly slap him on his arm, flustered. “You’re a pervert, you know that?”

Instead of answering you, he brings his head forward to close his lips on a clothed nipple, his tongue flicking the sensitive erect bud. Your mouth opens as you let out a soft gasp at the sensation and you can feel the corner of Miguel’s lips twitch into a slight smirk. He teases your nipple alternating between flicking it with the tip of his tongue and giving it an audible suck. He pulls away for a split second only to give the same attention to your other nipple. You weave your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to your tits. Your other hand is holding onto his shoulder for support as you urge him to keep going with your whimpers. His hands haven’t stopped exploring your body. His wide hands warm against your hips, ass, thighs, everywhere he can touch, squeezing your softness, committing every curve to memory.

“Migueeeel,” you whine, rubbing your thighs together to try to relieve the ache between your legs. You appreciate the attention to your nipples but your cunt was throbbing with need. You are so close to ripping the rest of your suit and panties off because the way the fabric is sticking to your wet pussy is becoming too uncomfortable.

“Miguel what, muñeca?” He pulls away, licking his lips. Those red eyes are now looking straight into yours and you feel yourself shiver. You try to look away but Miguel grabs your chin to keep you facing him. “Eyes on me. What do you want? Use your words.”

“Please,” your cheeks burn in embarrassment but Miguel just raised an eyebrow at you, unamused. “Stop teasing please.”

“Ah I see okay,” he says, taking his hands off you before standing up and walking to his closet.

“W-wait what are you doing?” you almost trip on your feet, knees feeling weak, as you chase after him. You grab his arm, tugging at it to get his attention as you pathetically look up at him.

“You said stop teasing so I’m getting you a shirt so you can go back to your world and get some rest,” he says as he looks through the neatly folded shirts in his closet. He’s stalling, pretending he was trying to choose one but he’s messing with you. There is no way he would let you go home tonight without getting at least a couple of orgasms wrung out of you. You aren’t leaving until he made sure you were stuffed full and dripping with his cum. You aren’t leaving tonight. Period. He knew you were too far gone with lust to figure that out yourself.

“Miggy, that’s not what I meant please,” you sob, pressing your body against him. Just the thought of being left unsatisfied was painful. “Please, Miggy, I need your mouth. And your cock please”

He finally looks at you and pulls you closer to him by your waist. You run your hands along his still clothed chest, feeling his heart beating with yours. You look up at him with glassy eyes, begging him to finish what he started. He coos at how desperate you were for release.

“You want my mouth and my cock?” he hums, still teasing. He easily lifts you up with one arm supporting your ass to carry you back to his bed. He’s carried you multiple times before but it never ceases to amaze you how he does it so effortlessly. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, hips bucking trying to get some friction against your still unfortunately clothed cunt. “Where do you want them, muñeca? You have to be more specific. Which one do you want first?”

“On my pussy, please. I need your mouth on my pussy. Miggy, I wanna cum on your face” you sobbed against his neck “And then- and then I want you to fuck me. I want you to fill me up with your cock. Only you can fill me up so good, Miggy. I need it.”

“Good girl,” he whispers right next to your ear, making you shudder “Now, was that so hard to do? Was it hard to tell me what you wanted?”

“Yes!” you bite his shoulder and you feel satisfaction when you hear him break character and snort. He shakes his head, smiling fondly while he sets you down on the bed.

"Qué voy a hacer contigo?" he brings his lips to your temple to whisper more softly "Qué haría sin ti?"

Your heart skips a beat at the gentleness of his tone. You’re not sure what he said but the genuine affection is evident. Intimate moments like this with Miguel are slowly becoming more and more frequent and you decide that you don’t mind it. You even crave it now. A satisfied sigh leaves your lips as you lean further toward him.

He pulls away but the fond look on his face doesn’t waver. He slaps your thigh, making the soft fat jiggle just how he likes it, as he moves to get settled in his bed.

“Put those lovely hips and thighs to use and ride my face, conejita.” He lies down, anticipating, patting his chest to encourage you to sit down.

You didn't need to be told twice. You rip off the rest of your suit, your heated skin meeting the cold air of his room making your nipples pebble painfully. You quickly take off your panties and toss them aside with your ruined suit. You squeal as you scramble to get on top of him. You position yourself on top of his waiting mouth, straddling his face but just hovering over his face, hands on the headboard to keep yourself steady. The smell of your arousal is almost too much for Miguel to bear at this proximity. The urge to lock you in his room for the next few days and not let you out until you’re thoroughly fucked and bred is getting hard to ignore. His fangs extend as his animalistic urges surface, yearning to bite you and mark you as his.

“Are you trying to tease me now? How can you ride my face if you don’t sit?” Miguel’s tone is deeper than it was just a second ago. There’s a certain roughness to it, a growl in his voice that makes your hole clench around nothing. He grips your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh, waiting for you to sit down or he’ll make you. He’s trying to be patient, turning his head a little to mouth at the fat of your inner thigh. He licks a stray trail of your slick up your thigh, stopping just a breath away from where you both want his mouth to be. You feel him sigh, savoring your taste like he just drank the finest nectar, a promise of what’s to come.

“But Miguel–” you yelp when he suddenly pulls you down by your thighs and you immediately feel his tongue lapping at your aching cunt, his nose bumping deliciously against your swollen clit. He wasn’t going to hear your excuses. The only things he wants to hear coming out of your pretty lips are your moans and whines for more. The way Miguel is sucking and devouring your wetness so eagerly makes your head spin and your grip on the headboard tighten to steady yourself for a moment. He teases your hole, licking around the small opening before plunging in as far as he can, feeling you clench around his tongue. He grows impatient at your lack of movement and starts rocking you back and forth on his face by himself. He flattens his tongue for you to grind your pretty folds onto.

“Miggy, feels so good,” you whine, bending over to look at him from under you. He’s so pretty like this, forehead scrunched up from how focused he is eating you out, and when you get a peak of his nose and his cheeks, they’re shiny from being soaked by a combination of your wetness and his own spit. You take one of your shaking hands off the headboard to brush the hair away from Miguel’s forehead only for him to guide your hand into a fist, grabbing his hair, urging you to use it as leverage to ride his face harder. And who are you to say no to that?

You move your hips to try to match the pace he set for you, your thighs burn but you pay it no mind. Not when you feel that familiar delicious knot forming in your core. Your head lolls to the side and your eyes screwed shut as you immerse in the pleasure, grinding your cunt harder on Miguel’s tongue, nose, chin, anywhere you can get some friction, getting desperate to reach your orgasm.

“‘M gonna cum, Miggy. Gonn’ cum on your face” you whimper. You take your hand off the headboard and bring it to your tits, squeezing them, pinching at rubbing circles on your pebbled nipples. Miguel doesn’t stop lapping hungrily at your pussy, shaking his head from side to side as much as your grip on his hair allows. He groans as he watches in awe as you chase your own pleasure.

So close.

You’re so close you swear you can almost taste it.

Miguel could tell from how your hips stuttered and your pace growing frantic, rougher. He gives your clit another suck and that finally pushes you over the edge.

You feel the sweet release consume you like wildfire, your body tensing, back arching, toes curling. You can’t even hear yourself scream Miguel’s name, curling into yourself as he continues to suck on your oversensitive, pulsating clit. His hands held your shaking thighs steady, not letting you close them. It’s all too much.

“Miggyyy,” you sob pathetically, pawing at his head and his grip on you. You finally manage to pry an eye open only to see him watching you intently “Too much. I can’t-”

He doesn’t stop. He continues to lick stripes at your puffy folds and flick the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue albeit slower this time. He takes one of his hands away from your thigh and plunges two of his thick fingers knuckle deep inside your needy hole. He manages to find your sweet cushiony spot and puts enough pressure on it to make you see stars. That burning hot coil is back just mere seconds after your climax and if you could think at that moment, you’d think it’s unfair how he seems to know your body too well, knows just where to touch to make you unravel.

He adds another finger into your cunt, stretching you out for his cock, curling them inside you, and hitting your sweet spot over and over again. You know that it’s not enough, that it’s nothing compared to what’s coming for you. No matter how much prep you do it's going to be a tight fit and you can’t wait to be stretched to your limits once more. You stop fighting him, needing to chase after your orgasm, grinding your clit again on his tongue as he pumps his fingers in and out of your slutty hole.

Soon enough, you feel your second orgasm wash over you. You spill over his face, making a mess on his pillows and bedsheets. Your limbs go numb and this time you can’t even form words, just sobbing, babbling nonsense as your body shakes on top of Miguel. You would’ve fallen over if it wasn't for Miguel supporting your back with his free hand. You frantically tap his hand as you hiccup a pathetic “no more.”

Miguel relents and lets you catch your breath for a second. He kisses your puffy cunt one more time before moving you to lie on your back on the bed. He lifts your head to turn over the soiled pillow and fluff it up before getting you settled comfortably. You watch as he catches the dripping wetness from his chin with his equally soaked fingers and sticks them into his mouth, eyes rolling back and moaning at your sweet taste. You feel your cunt throb at the lewd action and you can’t help but let out a needy whimper from the back of your throat. It’s so unfair how much he affects you.

“Ay, pobrecita,” he coos at your flushed face with fat tears running down your cheeks as he nudges your legs apart with his knee and settles between your parted legs. “too much for mi conejita to handle? I know you can take more. Your pussy is so slutty, isn’t she? So needy. I doubt two orgasms is enough.”

He cups your face with one hand, thumb wiping away a tear on your cheek, his other hand brushing your hair away from your face, knowing how much you hate the feeling of it sticking to your skin. Your lower lip is jutting out in an adorable pout that he can’t help but kiss, catching your lip between his teeth. You scrunch up your nose and push his face away as you try to steady your breath.

You can see his naked chest rise and fall faster than usual, his mouth open to catch his own breath. You didn’t even notice when he disabled his suit but your eyes are thankful as you drink in the sight of his warm brown skin, stretching across the expanse of his unfairly defined body. He looks like he was sculpted by the gods themselves, taking extra care to give him the most perfect proportions. How lucky are you to see this masterpiece up close? It would be a sin to not enjoy the view.

Your eyes trail down from his strong broad shoulders to his massive tits, and even further down to see his cock standing up proudly against his navel, the head dripping beads of precum and smearing it against his abs. Pride blooms in your chest as you realize that he’s just as affected as you are.

Your throat suddenly feels so empty. You lick your lips as you tear your eyes off his cock to look up at his face only to find his hungry gaze meeting yours. His eyes glint with danger as he takes in the sight of you in your post-orgasm haze, seemingly plotting his next move.

You didn’t have to wait long because, of course, he can’t keep his hands away from you.

He moves closer, making you spread your legs further. His hands grab at the back of your thighs to push them towards your torso, your knees almost touching your chest. Your dripping cunt twitches as it’s exposed to the cold air. Your hole clenching on nothing, begging to be filled.

“Que rico. Podría acostumbrarme a esto,” he says, his voice deep and rough with lust as his hands rub up and down your thighs, squeezing, feeling you. He drinks up the sight of you, so bare and exposed, all for him to take. “I could watch you like this all day. Maybe take a video of you right now so I can watch your pretty cunt pulsing, crying for me, anytime I want. Or…”

He takes his cock in one hand, running his thumb on the swollen tip to spread the beads of precum around, pumping his shaft with a few languid strokes. You yelp when he slaps his thick, heavy cock against your puffy folds.

“I could tie you up like this and keep you here for my own pleasure.” He starts moving his hips at a torturously slow pace, sliding his length along your wet folds, getting it lubricated by your own slick. He brings his hands back to your thighs and pushes them even further until you’re practically folded in half. “Keep you here to breed. Fill you up with so much cum and you’ll stay like this so it will surely take, yeah?”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Miggy” you hiss as the tip of his cock keeps bumping into your throbbing clit “What’s stopping you from doing so huh? You have your web and your little surveillance bots. Put them to good use.”

“Of course, you’d love that, my pretty little slut,” he chuckles, shaking his head as he lines up the tip of his cock with your hole. Your eyelids flutter as you hold your breath in anticipation, waiting for that delicious stretch of being filled by his massive cock.

“Eyes on me, cariño,” he commands and you obey, looking up at him from under your lashes “That’s it, good girl.”

He starts to slowly press his cock into your greedy hole. Inch by inch, he sinks in, knocking the air out of your lungs. Midway, maybe, you can’t tell, there’s just so much of him, you start to feel a little faint, your shoulders tense and your mouth stuck hanging open. You feel so full of him, almost like he’s going to split you apart.

“Breathe for me,” he coos as he slowly presses more of him into you, filling you up more than what should be possible. He drapes your legs over his shoulders, his chest pressing against the back of your thighs as he uses his now free hands to cradle your face. You suck in a breath as he instructed and try to even out your breathing. “There you go. Keep breathing. Relax for me. Thaaat’s it. My sweet girl. So good for me.”

You preen at his words, warmth flooding your chest and going straight down to your pussy. His hands stay on your cheeks, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your skin as he pushes the last few inches in. You put your hands on top of his as you lean into his touch. He starts to grind his hips slowly, gently, getting you used to his size. The coarse dark curls at the base of his cock tickle your sensitive clit and the head of his cock softly probing at your cervix makes you roll your eyes back and whimper from the fullness.

“Eres tan hermosa. No sabes lo que me haces, cariño,” he leans in to capture your lips into a deep kiss. Soft and gentle until both of you wanted more. One of his hands finds the back of your neck to tilt your head as he pleases as he tries to devour you. His tongue licks into your mouth and his fangs graze your lips with every movement. You hum against his lips as you feel him start to pull his hips back, letting his dick slide halfway out before snapping his hips forward to plunge himself back inside, his balls lewdly smacking against your ass. And he keeps doing it over, and over again making you moan oh so wantonly.

“Estás tan rica. Estás hecha para mí, mi amor,” he whispers against your lips. The breathlessness and the hint of desperation for release in his voice make you shiver. His pace picks up, thrusts growing rougher with it. The wet sounds of him sliding in and out of you and skin slapping against skin echo around his room. The only other sounds you can hear are your combined sounds of pleasure, calling out each other’s names.

You pull on the hand that Miguel has on your cheek to lace your fingers together, his large hand easily dwarfing yours, his talons folded back to not hurt you. Your other hand slips between your bodies, travelling downwards to feel where you two are connected. There’s a deep rumble coming from Miguel’s chest and he presses your sweaty foreheads together, looking at you through half-lidded eyes. Your tight heat is milking his cock so perfectly and at this rate, he’s not going to last long.

“Miggy,” you whine, keeping your eyes on his. His irises seem a little more brown as he looks at you so tenderly, making you feel like you are going to melt into a puddle of goo. He brings your joined hands to his lips to kiss your knuckles and you think you really just might turn into goo.

His thrusts get messier and more frantic You feel the familiar coil building up in your stomach. You lift your hand from between your legs to press firmly against the area below your navel and the sensation is electrifying. You can feel his cock pistoning in and out of you from where you are touching. You can feel him rearranging your insides, molding your pussy to accommodate him and only him, ruining you for anyone else.

“Mi niña hermosa, mi niña linda. Mía. Toda mía.” he moans into your ear, almost whiney and you know he’s near the edge. He starts peppering kisses on your neck, licking, sucking, grazing the sensitive skin with his fangs but not sinking them in yet. He takes the hand you aren’t holding to rest on your hand on your lower stomach. His thumb reaches further down to stroke your clit earning him a shaky whine from you.

“Cum for me again, hermosa,” he lifts his head to look at your flushed face. You’re sure you look like a mess but to him, you’re more beautiful than the brightest twinkling stars on a clear night sky. “Let me see your pretty face when you cum.”

And with that, you’re gone, pushed over the edge, screaming his name, squirting clear liquid up to his chest. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your hold on his hand tightens, and your legs on his shoulders shake and flail from another intense orgasm. There’s ringing in your ears but you faintly hear him cooing at you, whispering sweet words you can’t quite understand.

Miguel is still fucking into you with messy, frantic thrusts and ragged breaths but it doesn’t take long for him to follow, not when your velvety walls are pulsing, contracting on his dick. He puts a large hand on the space beside your head for support, his claws tearing through the pillowcase, as he drives his hips into yours a few more times before spilling inside you with a deep growl. He paints your insides with his cum as he rides his high with a few more shallow thrusts. You clench around him trying to squeeze as much cum out of him with your tight hole and he whimpers your name.

Both of you pant in unison, trying to catch your breath after that life-altering orgasm together. You turn your head to the side to kiss the inside of Miguel's wrist next to your head. Miguel doesn’t want to move. Everything is too perfect at that moment. You’re perfect.

But he has more plans for you tonight.

He takes your legs off his shoulders to wrap around his waist as he adjusts the both of you so he can lay down comfortably on top of you, putting most of his weight on his elbows on the bed. His dick still plugged in your hole, keeping his seed inside and refusing to part with your tight heat.

“Miggy,” you softly call him, looking at his relaxed face resting on your shoulder, eyes closed.

“Hm?”

“... pull out.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Fine, but only because I want to,” he grumbles, clearly not wanting to pull out. He gets on his knees again so he can at least watch your sloppy hole fluttering as he slowly pulls out. A thick milky ring of your combined fluid sits at the base of his cock. His eyes darken as he sees your cunt trying to clench at air and his cum starts to drip out of you. He can’t have that. He collects the trail of cum with his fingers so he can stuff them back inside of you.

“Miggy, come back here,” you pull at his hand and when he doesn’t budge, you add “You can just cum inside me more later. I need cuddles.”

That gets him to leave your fucked out hole alone. For now. Miguel kisses your stomach up to the valley between your breasts to your neck and lingers on your lips. He goes back to his earlier position on top of you. You drape your arms around his neck as you hum in contentment against the kiss. He smiles and moves to mouth at your sensitive neck, planting soft kisses, licking and sucking as he moans and pants in your ear.

“Miggy, I’m sleepy now,” you turn to look at him. You know what he’s doing. You know that he’s trying to turn you on again. And it’s working.

“You can do one more, mami. One more for me,” he says. He’s almost pouting, almost begging “You said I can cum in you again.”

“I didn’t mean right away. I just came three times already” you whined wrapping your arms around his broad chest. you want to feel him close.

“Mmm, you can cum four times. Maybe more because you’re such a needy little whore,” he murmurs into your neck, not stopping his ministrations. “My cum slut who loves being bred. We’re not going to end the night without your tummy full of cum I promise you that, cariño.”

You roll your eyes at him but you don't push him away and instead start playing with the short curly hairs at the back of his neck, ignoring the way your pussy shivered at his perverted words. You find comfort in his warmth and weight on top of you. You inhale his familiar deep masculine scent and it almost lulls you to sleep until you feel something wet and hard poking at your thigh.

“How are you hard again?” you say in disbelief as you look down and sure enough, Miguel’s dick is erect and ready to go for another round.

“It’s been a while since we had sex and my hand could only do so much to make up for your absence, cariño,” he huffs as gets up on his knees to turn you over and slap your ass. The sound of his palm meeting the sticky wet skin of your ass is undeniably lewd. “And what about needing to get you pregnant does not make sense to you? Get on your hands and knees for me. That baby is not gonna make itself.”

You plant your knees on the mattress and present your ass to him but you don't bother to lift your upper body from the bed. You keep your face down against the softness of his pillows. You didn't want him to see the giddy smile on your face from hearing that he hasn't slept with anyone else. His cum starts dripping out of your hole, coating your clit with creamy white and Miguel almost cums again on the spot.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” His large hands grab at your ass, kneading them. His thumbs spread your puffy lips apart so he can watch your cunt try to keep his cum inside. You groan as you force your arms to lift you up. “There’s my good girl.”

He smacks your ass which earned him a yelp from you. His lips curl up as he watches the flesh of your ass jiggle from the impact.

“Get on with it,” you whine, wiggling your ass to entice him to move faster. For someone who wanted to stop at the third round, you sure are impatient to be filled again.

“You are going to be the death of me,” he chuckles as he guides his cock back inside your wet heat. “There you go, mami. Back where it belongs.”

You moan loudly as you feel him grinding his hips, driving his dick as deep as he can reach inside you. Your eyes flutter close, as you savor the stretch of your hole around his fat cock once more. You couldn’t agree more with his words.

You hear Miguel from behind you input a command on a device. It beeps obnoxiously like it’s mocking you. It’s the last thing you want to hear while he is balls deep inside you, his girthy cock stretching you deliciously and filling you up so good. You think to yourself what was so important that Miguel can't put his gizmo down and enjoy the feeling of your warm, tight pussy on his dick? Right after insisting you can go for one more round?

You are about to snap at him for being ungrateful until a hologram appears in front of you. It shows a live video feed of his very own bed and a clear view of your fully naked self on your hands and knees getting ur insides rearranged by your boss. Your hair is a mess and your makeup is all smudged from how he made you cry from all the begging and overstimulation earlier. And he looks so big compared to you, having to bend low to align his hips with yours. You didn't even notice the recording devices planted around the room until now from how your brain was so fogged by lust. There seem to be at least three around the room from different angles. Well, it turns out he wasn’t just bluffing when he said he could record you earlier.

You wonder if he always had those set up. You haven’t really been to his room before. The few “encounters” you had with Miguel happened in his laboratory on his silly little platform, both of you too consumed by lust to think about moving to a more private area. It’s rather unlikely that they’re for actual safety reasons when they all just record the same area. You entertain the idea that him taking you to his room tonight is not just a spur-of-the-moment thing, that he might have all of this set up for tonight for when he has you writhing in pleasure on his bed. How thoughtful, you think. It makes you clench around his dick.

"You really are a pervert," you quip to annoy him. Clearly, the urge to mess with him hasn’t been thoroughly fucked out of you yet. You didn't even get to laugh at your own childish remark when Miguel abruptly starts thrusting his hips without warning, harder this time, dragging out a surprised whimper from you. His tip is bullying your cervix, testing the line between pleasure and pain but you love it. Your eyes meet Miguel's intense red glare on the screen.

"You're still talking," he tuts, his head shaking like he's some kind of pet owner trying to reprimand a disobedient pet "Let me fix that, cariño.”

He brings his large calloused hands back on you – where they belong, you think to yourself, echoing Miguel’s words. His left hand is firm on the flesh of your waist, you are sure they are going to bruise once he’s done with you. His other hand fondles your breasts, the sharp talons on his fingertips lightly grazing your soft skin. You know that when you look at yourself in the mirror tomorrow morning you’d look like you barely got away from being mauled by a feral beast, evidence of how Miguel O'Hara had his way with you and how you enjoyed every single second of it.

You cry out his name, chanting it like a prayer. He’s so deep inside you that you can almost feel him in your chest, his thrusts fucking the air out of your lungs.

“Miggy, Mi…. Mig– ah, ah Mi– haaaa –guel ahhh”

Your eyes roll back at the continuous assault on your sweet spot and your cervix with every deep thrust. High-pitched whines come out of your throat as your arms give out from under you, making you fall face-first on the soft mattress. It all feels so good but overwhelming. You think you’re going to pass out.

“Que rico, mami,” he pulls your hair so you can face the screens. “Look at yourself. Beautiful. Taking my cock so well. Don’t worry. I have this all recorded if you’re too cock drunk to watch yourself now, cariño.”

You can't say anything back. You try really hard to come up with something but the only word that comes out of your mouth is “please” over and over again becoming progressively needier each time. He wraps his arm around your waist to pull you closer to him, his chest flushed against your back, allowing him to rock you back against his forceful thrusts.

“Gonn’ make sure I put a baby in you tonight, cariño,” he growls in your ear. “I can’t wait to see your tummy swell in a few months. You’ll look divine, I won't be able to take my hands off you even more.”

His eyes are back to a glowing red as they meet yours that are glazed over by tears and lust. His hand tightens his hold on your hair making you tilt your head further, exposing more of your neck for him to suck bruises on. Your tits are bouncing freely at his aggressive pace. Coupled with the high-pitched moans coming out of your mouth, it’s all so pornographic. It makes you feel like liquid fire is running through your veins and pooling into your stomach.

“You’re gonna cum for me? Let go. Come on. cum for me, mami,”Miguel grunts in your ear, his hand on your hair letting go so he can greedily grab at your tits. “I wanna feel your cunt pulsing on my cock. Can you do that for me? Of course, you can. Going to milk me dry.”

And just like that, you throw your head back on his shoulder, eyes screwing shut as another wave of orgasm crashes down on you. Miguel follows closely, filling you up with more cum that drips down your thighs and on the bedsheets. Your body slumps back against his, too tired to keep yourself upright. You don’t even have the energy to open your eyes, content with feeling Miguel’s warm body against yours.

“I got you,” he says, wrapping his arms around you and moving you to lie down on the bed. You hum in contentment, letting him care for your tired body. He bends down to plant a kiss on your forehead before he pulls away. You miss his touch already.

A beeping sound lets you know that he turned off the monitors. You feel him taking the soiled bedsheets, getting up from the bed to get fresh ones. You have half the mind to reach out to him and tell him he can clean up later so you can cuddle now. Your mouth, however, doesn’t want to move so instead you groan as you blindly reach your hands out.

Miguel chuckles at your antics, walking back with fresh sheets and a damp towel to wipe off the sticky mess from your body. He sits next to you on the bed and brings the towel to your tear-stained cheeks, gently dabbing the area around your eyes to get rid of the messed up traces of mascara and eyeliner. You take your hand to rest on your chest trying to calm your wildly beating heart.

The comfortable silence, unfortunately, doesn’t last long. You hear the unmistakable voice of Lyla cut through the air.

“Heeeey, bossman! Heeeey, girlie!” she drawls and your eyes snap open as you snatch the sheet from Miguel’s hands to cover yourself.

“Ay, coño! I thought I said no alerts tonight,” Miguel looks pissed, rubbing his face in frustration before moving to turn off his watch. “It can wait until tomorrow.”

“Wait, wait! Sorry to interrupt the big night, Miguel, but it’s an emergency. Trust me you’ll want to fix this now,” Lyla raises her hands in surrender before Miguel presses a button. She turns to you, looking apologetic and asking for help “Then you can go back to babymaking, right, dollface?”

“I–” you flush, choking on your own words. You begrudgingly turn to Miguel, your lower lip caught in between your teeth. You lower your eyes as an ugly feeling crawls up your chest.

“It sounds important. You should go,” you whisper, not trusting your voice to speak up any louder. “I’d say I can be back up but I can hardly move so you’re on your own, big guy.”

Miguel sighs and gets up, telling Lyla to send him the information and that it better be worth his time.

You are already sexually satisfied and tired – that’s what four orgasms could do to you – but you are a little upset and sulky that Miguel has to be called in for work right now. Stupid anomaly or whatever it is. It’s probably important and a universe out there might be in grave danger. But you can't help feeling like shit about it though.

You like how soft Miguel gets when he cleans you up after sex. You like it when he picks up your tired form and whispers soft words to you in Spanish. Plus, you were looking forward to cuddles. What’s the use of having sex in his room on his bed if not to cuddle afterward and wake up next to each other the next day? And then, suddenly, in the early morning light, realize that you’ve been madly in love with each other all along. Okay, you are more than just a little upset.

Miguel notices you pouting and your eyes getting glassy with tears as you try to roll off the bed. He shoots his glowing red web at you, trapping you where you are before going back to readjusting his watch.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, walking back to the bed as he makes sure his suit is all good and ready for the mission. He kneels on the bed to drag you to lie on your back.

“What are you doing? I'm going to take a shower,” you sniffle trying to avoid his eyes “I’ll take care of myself. you should go”

He hums as he takes both your wrists in one hand and forces them above your head to secure them together with his webs.

“Miggy?” you look at him and there’s a spark of mischief in his eyes. He darts his tongue across his lower lip and you feel a shiver run up your spine.

He doesn’t respond. He only keeps looking at you like he’s going to devour you once more. He brings your legs up to the position he had in before, knees to your chest, cunt fully exposed to him. You blush and your heart starts pounding in your chest. He shoots out more of his web, making sure you’re comfortable and your legs are securely tied in that position.

“Good?” he whispers and you nod in response “Words, cariño.”

“Perfect,” you moan, your chest heaving with need. He smiles at you fondly, caressing your cheek with a curled finger, and plants chaste kisses on your temple, your nose, and the corner of your mouth until he reaches your lips. He hums in contentment as he savors the feel of your lips against his. Then, he pulls away reluctantly and puts on his mask. He sets his watch to the right coordinates opening up a portal to wherever the universe needs saving.

“I’ll be back as fast as I can. I’ll make sure that anomaly regrets ever being made for interrupting my plans for our night,” he grumbles and gives you one last kiss through his mask for good luck. “And then it’s going to be all about you for the rest of the night, hm? I promise.”

He walks into the portal backwards so he can look at you until it closes and takes him away. Your heart flutters in your chest, anticipating what’s to come as you feel the webs digging deliciously into your soft flesh.

•🕷️────✧˖°˖🕸️˖°˖✧────🕷️•

Translations:

Que linda - how pretty

muñeca - doll

cariño - dear/darling

Qué voy a hacer contigo? - What am I going to do with you?

Qué haría sin ti? - What am I going to do without you?

conejita - little rabbit

pobrecita - poor thing

que rico - “[you] look good” (literal: tastes good)

Podría acostumbrarme a esto - I could get used to this

Eres tan hermosa. No sabes lo que me haces - You're so beautiful. You don't know what you do to me

Estás tan rica. Estás hecha para mí, mi amor - You feel so good. You were made for me, my love

Mi niña hermosa, mi niña linda. Mía. Toda mía. - My beautiful girl, my sweet girl. Mine. All mine.

mami - mommy (as an endearment for a partner)

coño - pussy

A/N: so many thanks to my friend who helped me with translating and giving me tips on some better Spanish terms to use 🙏

[crispyjenkins]

mandalore the young cont.

original post/discussion here! it was just getting really long and i for one hate scrolling so far, so. here's this. have also added this au to my masterlist in my pinned post!

@malcontent-crow

#i had a whole wall of tags and it didnt save! lets try this again#i am loving this. the potential for world building and the consequences of knowing more than you should (literally)

#i had forgotten that DW wasnt in peoples thoughts as a threat during the Clan Wars#and the idea that Pre was so far underground with the movement is a very good thing to remember as well! #on one hand you have this driven and spirited young verd that is inspiring Clans to start reassessing who they are fighting and why#on the other you have this clanless outsider that knows waaaaay too much about all the potential major players and is saying#that this major threat isnt really as gone as everybody thought and hoped. sith parallels out the wahoo for ppor obi#and hes standing there watching them all argue over his head about this threat that he KNOWS needs to be dealt with#he is seeing himself as pretty on par or above with the Old Guard in terms of mental age or prowess or large scale battles#so he sees them doubt him maybe even to his face and knows he'll need to get things started on his own

#and becauae everything in the galaxay has at least one person watching it from the outside... how quickly does the news of a jedi padawan#going off the rails on this mission get out? whos keeping track and who points fingers at the jedi for attempting to control the outcome#of the war of their historical enemies in their favor? the senate (read sith) want mandalore defanged before their war but what does it look#like the jedi want? how does the council answer for his actions? do they condemn or condone him? do they try to stay out of it?

#the world building potential of the Manda and the Ka'ra is delicious.#what does it mean to be a mando or darmanda? can you walk around and have people look at you and know you have failed in your oaths?

#and ouch! Obi-Wan considering the fact that he has never been allowed to be his own person.#from padawan to knight/master and then a general and councilor and sheesh. hes really never had the chance to see who he is as a person#outside of his responsibilities to everybody around him and right now hes a war worn adult in a war worn teens body#hes always had somebody else there. as a battle companion a teacher a student as somebody to protect and guard and guide#and now he has this entire culture looking at him and waiting for his next move. and im guess it still feels like less than a burden than#the care and raising of an entire child on his own. sure he had the temple resources and other jedi to lean on but anakin always looked to#him first to solve any problem or teach him something new or cuddle him after nightmares as hes trying to hide his own dreams#and grief and flounding to find his footing as an independent adult

#so right now hes looking around at the entire mando population and realizing thats he might need to reshape himself again for somebody else#to make himself what others need and knowing he can and will do it if it means saving somebody else

#and when exactly did he come back from the war? did he have satine die in his arms and see the ruin that is madalore after a pacifist reign?#does he see the potential for that ruin to happen right now if he doesnt succeed? where does he see himself in regards to the jedi?#has he considered the consequences of stepping up to be the Mand'alor to this culture he has never seen as his own?#has he let himself think about the choices he needs to make and how some things you cant always come out the other side the same as before?

(following the trend of each of these getting longer, this has hit just under 5,000 words, so just a heads up lol? so much world building is happening in this one)

sorry you had to rewrite so much! that last exchange was cursed, it seems lmao

it's so easy to write Obi-Wan as prescient, or the route I'm going with in Dha Kar'ta, so i think it's a fun change-up to have him knowledgeable for completely different reasons! I'm actually going to avoid visions almost at all for this Obi, but everyone else certainly won't know the difference, and he doesn't tell them otherwise (though he won't encourage it either. I do actually have a Naruto time travel where Nart pretends to be psychic à la Shawn Spencer, so that isn't the route I wanna go for this Obi). the consequences of knowing too much, indeed

hmmm many of these questions depend on how deep into Jedi and galactic politics I wanna go, and I'm not sure it's very deep at all. or at least, not very dragged out. i'll explain in a mo

SO first: yes, this Obi is from after Satine dies, in 19 BBY, maybe a month or so after, but before the bombing of the Temple so before Ahsoka left the Order. He was back on the front, no time to properly mourn, though he was doing his best, and was meditating on the whole war, but especially the Sith and their hand in everything that happened on Mandalore. It went deeper than Maul, he knew, had been going on longer than Maul and even Dooku, and it occurred to Obi-Wan that the Sith either wanted a Mandalore that will side with them but not be too much a threat, or they wanted them not a threat at all. He realised his hand in that, in helping put the New Mandalorians on the throne that led to the demilitarisation of the entire sector. Obi-Wan had practically teed Mandalore up for Dooku and then Maul's interference, and if the Republic won the war, he could all too easily see them doing another excision. won't get too much into it to save it for the fic, but he is mediating with something beskar, and he gets a lil too deep into the Force, and of course this is post-Mortis so...... 👀

so this Obi-Wan, back in time, is helping Mandalore to prevent any more Sith machinations in the future, to change the future for the whole galaxy, but even before he's Chosen, he realises he's also doing all of this for Mandalore. for his own hand in its destruction, for the Jedi's hand in the Excision, for his personal connection to Satine drawing Maul to it. it's for atonement, for reparation, and also because Mandalore deserves to be saved, and Obi-Wan is in a place he can help do that. it isn't just about the health of the galaxy, anymore.

I usually shy away from having Obi-Wan leave the Order, no matter what AU I'm throwing him in because I believe in the fundamental goodness of the Order and the people in it, and Obi-Wan is fundamentally a Jedi, one of the best, one of the best. however, in this case, I don't think he can have his cake and eat it too. if Dooku had to leave the Order to accept his countship, then Obi-Wan would have to leave to become Mand'alor. Jedi are (supposed to be) politically neutral, and Obi-Wan is all too aware he'd nullified his own neutrality the moment he decided to go for Keldabe to find Jango.

one of my favorite... tropes? in time travel fic is Obi using his future fellow councilmembers' access codes to get into things he shouldn't, and he certainly knows how to work the Order's internal systems in his favor, so he

wait so i was gonna have him go in and tender his resignation from the Order directly into the systems, and backdate it for before the Mandalore mission, so that anything he's done on Mandalore so far cannot be blamed on the Jedi BUT WHAT IF he just. deletes himself. like completely. from admin to the Archives to the crèche's own internal systems to the Shadow's private servers, Obi-Wan Kenobi was never a Jedi, was never a Temple bastard, was never Qui-Gon Jinn's padawan. his mission records are all in Qui-Gon's name now, his medical file simply doesn't exist, his crècheling clan is listed as simply having been a person short compared to other clans that year. he goes so far as to delete comm histories with him or mentioning him, it's like Obi-Wan Kenobi just doesn't exist anymore.

he does this first thing after leaving Jango, he spends the entire week back to Mandalore ensuring he's been completely erased from absolutely anything relating to the Jedi, and then uses his future councilmember knowledge (and lessons from Quinlan) to erase himself from Republic systems, too. any planet he'd helped as a padawan will suddenly have no records of him as having been there with his master, so the senate or Order can't subpoena them for the info, though Obi-Wan knows he can't have gotten everything (such as any planet not in the Republic, or who don't have holonet access to their files, or both, like Melida/Daan), but he figures he's done enough to absolve the Order if anyone comes knocking about what he's doing.

he buries his lightsaber in the deserts of Mandalore, not knowing that in his old future, he'd have done the same on Tatooine.

so as far as the Jedi are aware: Obi-Wan went on a mission with Qui-Gon that (predictably) went to hell, got separated from his master for weeks to months, then suddenly changed, at the same time their Jedi with the highest prescience collapsed due to his visions, which have also changed. Obi-Wan left Qui-Gon behind to hightail it through the Mandalore sector, and Qui-Gon couldn't catch up or find him, and then Obi-Wan disappeared from anyone's radars for two weeks. then Qui-Gon senses him reenter the Mandalore system, right before breaking his training bond with him, and the Order wakes up to Obi-Wan completely erased from their systems like he never existed in the first place. everything is going so so wrong, and yet. and yet.

and yet the Force is telling them all that this is right, that this is the least Dark course of action, that whatever Obi-Wan is doing is indeed the Will of the Force

so the Order mourns one of their own, and tells Qui-Gon to let him go. and then the Order ups their cyber security because what.

i think he leaves an unsigned letter/comm message for a few people. Bant, Quinlan, Mace, Feemor, his old crèchemaster, Yoda, maybe Jocasta Nu. it's short, basically thanking them for their hand in his upbringing (Feemor hasn't even met him before so is very confused by this), apologising for leaving abruptly, but to follow the Will of the Force, he had to leave; the first part of the message is all the same, but ends with little individual notes. he apologises to Madam Nu for fucking with her archives and hopes she can one day forgive him; he asks her to keep her friends close and to mend the tension between her and Dooku, that Obi-Wan should not know about. He tells Yoda that the future is always in motion but they must move with it; he asks Yoda to meditate on his dwindling lineages and learn to accept all that he cannot control. He reminds Quinlan to wear his gloves and asks him to thank Tholme for looking out for him when Qui-Gon wouldn't or didn't; he thanks him for their years together, and asks him to check in on Feemor every now and then. He apologises to Mace for all the shatter-points he likely caused and will continue to cause, and suggests he put a permanent reminder in his comm to remember to refill his migraine prescription that sixteen year-old Obi should not know about. He asks Bant to look out for a young Togruta initiate that will join in seven years, and suggests Bant might like the healer track rather than the knight corps; he thanks her for being his longest and most dearly-held friend. He thanks his crèchemaster for realising his visions were more than dreams (which will inadvertently lend credence to that theory for why Obi-Wan changed so suddenly), for supporting him when Bruck was at his nastiest, and for always being someone he could turn to even after he became a padawan. For Feemor, Obi-Wan apologises that they hadn't had the chance to meet before then, and for the relationship they won't have anymore; Feemor has no idea who this message is from, until he starts hearing the gossip that Obi-Wan Kenobi has left the Order again. He too mourns never getting to know his padawan brother.

and Obi-Wan sends Qui-Gon a message, of course, thanking him for his teachings, apologising for "leading him on" as an apprentice, leaving and coming back so many times only to permanently leave this time. he reminds Qui to reach out to his friends and his support system, asks him to at least consider talking to a mind or soul healer about Xanatos (knowing that once it gets out that Obi-Wan is a planetary leader, it will likely badly trigger Qui-Gon), and asks him to at least try and mend his relationship with Dooku, though understands if that's not something Qui-Gon is willing to do. asks him to keep Satine safe, but to deeply think about why the Republic is so intent on helping her faction, and why Qui-Gon had questioned so little of the New Mandalorian ethos.

so by the time Obi-Wan finds the Old Guard, he's broken from the Order completely, has buried his saber, has broken his training bond, has cut his braid. I think he shaves his head entirely to let it grow out at the same rate, because the padawan cut is *Eliot Spencer voice* Very Distinctive. he paints his armour white for, yes, his men, his vod'e, but also for cin vhetin. he can't be the man he was before, nor the teen he was before, neither are who Mandalore needs, and as long as he can stay true to his morals and upbringing, he will be what Mandalore needs him to be.

okay now onto the Manda vs. the Ka'ra vs. the Force. the Force is a scientific concept of an energy connecting absolutely everything in the universe, and the Jedi have a religious view on the scientific concept. for both purposes, the Force just is. I really like the idea of other non-Jedi ideas just being different aspects of the Force, different religions and cultures based on the same scientific concepts. for Mandalorians, their "aspect" of the Force is the Manda, the collective souls of every Mando'ade that's ever marched on. just what it means to be Mando'ade has varied greatly through history, and is varied between different groups even now, but none of that changes what the Manda is, which is an aspect of the Force only Mando'ade can touch. sort of like their beliefs of it being separate from the Force have made it so?

now I haven't really talked about this before, but from the beginning of me writing Mandalorian related things, i've separated Ka'ra from ka'ra, which was a little bit me misremembering there was another term for "stars", and then it became it's own thing. kar, meaning "star", with it's plural kar'e or kare, to me, means physical stars, the way we'd call our sun a star. ka'ra, uncapitalised, is the more poetic and/or spiritual "stars", the way we might say something is "written in the stars", which actually aligns with how jate'kara is spelled; for my writing, i've used this form for Mandalorian Force-sensitives being Star-touched ka'ra-touched. Ka'ra, capitalised, is that "ruling council of fallen kings", the Mandalorian myth and it, the way I've always interpreted it, is a separate part of the Manda made up of specifically the souls of every Mand'alor already marched on. So, Tor Vizsla could have joined the Manda after death, but not the Ka'ra; make sense? all that ka'ra vs Ka'ra worldbuilding was done very early in my writing for star wars, and has since expanded to include the idea of the Manda as something separate, and I would now actually consider Manda-touched over Star-touched to describe Force sensitive Mando'ade, because that's really what I think Mandalorians would consider causes their supernatural powers: ancestors rather than the stars.

so what does that mean for this fic? the Manda is directly influenced by all those that consider themselves Mandalorian, Force-sensitive or not. it is, however, not affected by New Mandalorians, unless they worship the Manda in some facsimile, and I think many, many, many do not, not the way they were raised to. this worship looks different for every clan and every individual, and I've always interpreted it as more of a broad spiritual practice across the whole culture rather than a religion, per se, the way a real-world broader culture might pray at shrines at New Years even if individuals themselves or their family aren't religious. this is what I'm referencing when I say the Will of the People: the alive Mando'ade and their choices and emotions affecting and influencing the Manda, the collective amalgamation of every passed-on Mando'ade, and it's when these two are in tandem that they "pick" a Mand'alor. HOWEVER, such a pick is also up to the Ka'ra, the Mand'alor'e that have all marched on; to one day enter the Ka'ra themselves, a Mand'alor must be "picked" by both the People/the Manda, and the Ka'ra. Tor would be "picked" by a significant part of the People and the Manda, and so would Jaster have been, but (according to me, myself, and i, obviously), only Jaster had been chosen by the Ka'ra. Pre is "Mand'alor" only in name, only in a tenuous loyalty existing in House Vizsla and Death Watch, not even by the Manda; just simple human (et al) loyalty. Jango had a weaker "pick" from the Manda than Jaster did, but was picked by the Ka'ra, meaning if he did not declare himself dar'manda (even just internally; I don't think he's ever said it out loud), he would have joined the Ka'ra after death; if he ever reconnects with himself as a Mandalorian, I like to think he'd have that chance again. Canon Jango, though, who went on to make the clones? Absolutely not.

what does this all mean for Obi-Wan? he'd spent weeks inadvertently drumming up support in the people and therefore the Manda, and maybe most haven't really looked at him and thought "sure I'd follow him as Mand'alor", but they have looked at him and thought "that one has mandokar, that one wants what's best for Mandalore, that one is touched by destiny". I dunno, man, like. Obi-Wan is their hope before he is their leader. That will make all the difference when he does end up uniting them. His searching out Jango had made Jango finally confront that he feels dar'manda, until then he hadn't really lost the Ka'ra's support, but that severs that connection. and now the Ka'ra are without a Mand'alor, but look at that, there's a mandokar'la little idiot right there, already strong in the Manda, already rallying hope and purpose, already so invested in the nurturing and the future of Mandalore, how could the Ka'ra not choose him?

I posed the question previously whether or not Mando'ade can tell who has been chosen to be Mand'alor, and I think I've ironed out what that'll mean for this fic. non-Force sensitive Mando'ade will have this sense when near their Mand'alor, a subconscious and inherent trust in them, and indeed, some will be disturbed by this and fight it. that's alright, that's their right. Some never clock this extra sense, some are aware of it always, some just chalk it up to "gut feelings" and the like. The more spiritual or religious Mandos maybe put a little more stock in this feelings, I think especially goran'e and other spiritual leaders, but the fact that the Manda can technically pick more than one person at a time (like Tor and Jaster, and then Jango), this extra sense isn't a perfect indicator of a properly chosen Manda'lor.

now. what about Force sensitive Mando'ade? Well, the Manda is an aspect of the Force, and is in fact how said Force sensitive Mando'ade connect to the Force, by going through the Manda, first. their relationship with sensitivity is inherently different from others in the galaxy, at least those that connect to it directly. they are the ones that can sense or see if someone is chosen by the Ka'ra, depending on their sensitivity. Some see the ghostly line of previous Mand'alor'e stretched out behind them (like the Avatar cycle lmao), some see a wavering crown of stars around their head, some just sense there is a duplicity (/neutral) to their Force presence that doesn't exist in anyone else. how common is Force sensitivity in Mandalorian space? not fuckin very. Jaster had three in his entire faction of aprox. 2 million (fanon number), at least that were aware they were sensitive. Jango only had a few more, and only because he had gained a couple hundred thousand more followers before Galidraan. so i'll make the nearly-arbitrary number that Force sensitive Mandos are 1 in 1,000,000, across the entire sector. by some calculations, in the whole galaxy at around the time of the Clone Wars the number of Force sensitives is 1 in 5,000,000 but these calculations do not generally include societies and species with a near or 100% chance of Force sensitivity, because we simply don't have the data for it. does this all make Mandos slightly more likely to be Force sensitive than others, by my own numbers? sorta. which i'm making an issue of underreporting, based on Mandalore not being a part of the Republic, and also contention with the Jedi and Sith; they don't consider those Manda-touched to be Force sensitive, and with the way I've built this, they aren't exactly wrong.

for the purposes of this story, there are maybe eight Manda-touched Mando'ade in the Mandalore system at this time, and all but one are goran'e. that single non-armorer is part of the Old Guard. I have the roster for the Old Guard decided, so I'm debating whether the Manda-touched one is Cort Davin (a journeyman protector), or one of the women. Instinct wants Vhonte Tervho, but I have plans for her to be related to the goran Obi-Wan got his armour done by, who I wanted to be one of the seven Force sensitive armorers, soooo. lmao how fucked would it be if Isabet Reau is the Force sensitive one? I like the angst of that, since I definitely do not plan on redeeming her, but I kind of want the only Old Guard that can sense Obi-Wan is Chosen by the Ka'ra to be really quiet and accepting of it, while everyone else is arguing. hmmm I have an unnamed Wren as part of the Guard, that I haven't fleshed anything out for yet; perhaps them?

okay I think I've solidified what it makes a Mandalorian, at least for the function of this fic. it is tied to the Resol'nare, and following it, which does allow those who had Chosen Tor Vizsla as their Mand'alor to technically still be following the Resol'nare, and are therefore not dar'manda. at least not for that. but part of the reason the Resol'nare is even able to determine who has a Mandalorian soul, is because they believe it does. Those alive and those dead influence the functionality and reality of the Manda, which also allows for those pre-Resol'nare to still exist in the Manda. What causes someone to become dar'manda, if they are technically following the Resol'nare?

maybe it's reductive, or over-simplified, or maybe even too broad, but it makes sense to me and allows for many many different types of people to still fail, and this is obviously not the only way to become dar'manda, but one thing that will always strip someone of their Mando soul? treatment of children. caring for children. not harming children. this allows many of Death Watch to still maintain their Mando souls, but still be fucked up awful people in other ways. It allows even True Mandalorians to have lost their souls and not realised it because they otherwise adhered to the Resol'nare, because they'd chosen to interpret "defending oneself and family" and "raising your children as Mandalorians" to not include other peoeple's children. Or maybe they were abusive in the belief they were caring for their children. This would also make every single one of the Cuy'val Dar dar'manda, which I think is a fascinating concept.

to answer your question directly, no, one cannot look at someone and know they're dar'manda, even the Force/Manda sensitive ones. one will only know in death, whether or not they have a place in the Manda.

NOW what does this mean for New Mandalorians?? well, by technicality and the way I've set the Manda up, one can interpret the Resol'nare in ways that could align with New Mandos. Perhaps they interpret "armour" as more than specifically "beskar'gam", maybe they wear armourweave or other protective fabrics. Maybe they interpret "defending one's family" as putting down arms instead of raising them, in order to create a peaceful future for their children. I think there are plenty of New Mandos that technically tick off all the boxes, and believe in themselves and their fellows so much that the Manda is like "yeah sure why not, we'll make that count". I think some tenants are more easily... bent, like swearing to the duchy in place of the Mand'alor, but I think an easy one New Mandos miss, is "speak Mando'a." I think many New Mandos were all too quick to switch to Basic for everything except religious and spiritual ceremonies, and I think those already in the Manda would find that very hard to forgive. I actually get into this a little in Dha Kar'ta very soon, but for this fic, i'll have Satine not outright outlawing Mando'a, but it is socially heavily discouraged. you're not allowed to speak it in the palace unless in aforementioned ceremonies, you cannot fill out paperwork in anything but Basic, you're not allowed to use Mando'a titles (including Mand'alor), you're not allowed to teach it to your children. no outright like. punishments for speaking it in public, but if your kids are caught, there are repercussions, including investigation into how else you're raising your kids, and if you're found to be doing anything else, they can take your kids from you. not every New Mando agrees with this, of course, and go about adhering to the Resol'nare as best they can in secret, but so many do give up the language by convincing themselves it's not as important as the other tenants and, well, the duchy hasn't steered them all wrong yet, has it?

okay so on the subject of what the outside galaxy is seeing. I like the headcanon/trope/idea of like. the one thing all factions of Mandalorians agreeing on is fuck everyone else. oh, the New Mandos will emulate the Core and the Republic, but they aren't the Republic nor want to be, and this animosity extends to keeping as many internal Mandlorian issues just that: internal. no faction can keep news from leaving the system or the sector, obviously, but there also isn't a lot of interest in Mandalorian news? "oh look all the Mandos are fighting again", except that's been the standard for like. actual thousands of years. I like when fic have people outside the sector not evening knowing there are different factions, so I'll be doing that here, too, and I like the idea of non-Republic sectors having their own holonets, separate from the Republic one. so like, if Obi-Wan happens to go a little viral during his mad dash to Keldabe, that would be on the Mandalorian holonet, not the Republic one, so even if Obi-Wan was visibly still a Jedi (and he wasn't), actual news of him wouldn't reach the Mid and Inner Rims until like. possible years after it happens.

could this maybe be expedited by Sith machinations? absolutely, though I'm not sure I want to go that route, since I don't think the Sith are overmuch interested in Mandalore at this point, at least not in any hands-on capacity. I'm unclear on whether them funding Death Watch is fanon or not, but it is a headcanon I subscribe to, and I think they'd have stopped funding DW after Galidraan, to cause worse infighting and prevent DW from gaining enough power to actually restart their imperial conquering days. Palpatine has been senator for about ten years by this point, but has very little political power overall, and Demask would be looking basically anywhere but Mandalore at this point in time, both of them having written it off until they actively need something from the sector. if anyone had clocked Obi-Wan as a Jedi, this all would have gone very differently, news would have spread much further and quicker and I think undoubtedly would have reached Palpatine, but since I have Obi-Wan just... cutting ties to anything Jedi, news of him remains in-sector. is this perhaps unrealistic? maybe, but I kind of want to focus on Mandalore and not worry about galactic-wide politics for once, lmao, actually very much like Obi-Wan is doing. however, he will clock a lack of Sith interference and thinks That's Very Weird.

haven't decided how he finds Palpatine out yet, but I think it'll have to do with his Manda senses being different than his Force ones, maybe the Ka'ra even gives him a few tips or gifts to sense Sith since they've allied and fought with them so much in the past. regardless, that'll be after he's become Mand'alor and united the clans.

now to actual plot progression! Obi-Wan meets up with the Old Guard, they don't know what to make of him other than "he's kriffing weird. and young. and creepy. and probably Manda-touched." whatever other verd is Manda-touched will see him blessed by the Ka'ra, which causes them to look inwards more closely and realise they trust Obi-Wan inexplicably, which means they're blessed by the Manda and the Will of the People, too. they wonder if Obi-Wan has noticed, if any of the other Old Guard have noticed. they are one of a few that notice Obi-Wan sneaking back out while everyone is arguing.

Vhonte Tervho is another. She's at this lil summit to represent clan Tervho, tho isn't the clan head, because her ba'vodu, a Manda-touched goran, had sensed she needed to be at the summit. said ba'vodu is of course the armorer who reforged Obi-Wan's armour (need to find a name for them hmm), who had told their clan they were to cease fighting until their new Mand'alor called on them. Vhonte sees Obi-Wan, realises at the same time as everyone that he's the Kih'Manda, the Mand'ika that the entire system had been gossiping about for weeks, and she thinks of what her ba'vodu said. she looks inwards, like they had taught her to, and finds, yes, she trusts Obi-Wan, just like she used to trust Jango. And, well, her Mand'alor is obviously leaving to go do something, and she isn't going to let him go it alone.

the Manda-touched verd doesn't go with them, wanting to see what comes of this, but they already know Obi-wan is Ka'ra Chosen. they will come when he calls.

[luvv4lurd]

I hate your guts. (Let me rearrange them.)

✰ genre smut. (again.)

✰ tws: hate sex, light public sex, degrading, small praise, enemies to lovers?, breeding, mentions of pregnancy, spanking, slight gore at the start, black coded read cause writer is black, choking, fingering, Bi-Han is a kinky, nasty man.

✰ notes: ty y’all so much for the love on my first post. srry if it sucks, im tired.

Bi-Han grumbled underneath his breath in frustration as you patched up his wounds after a bloody spat with Kung Lao . “Had you not been so fucking stupid, we wouldn’t be in this situation.” You had spoke to him. “It was only a spar.” Bi-Han spoke, annoyed at you. “And it shows how weak you are.” You whispered.

Bi-Han’s brown eyes snapped up at you, standing from the chair. “Excuse me?” He said, towering over you. Your heart almost leaped out of your chest by the change of tone in his voice. “Nothin’.” You mumbled. “What was that? I could not hear you due to your constant mumbling.” He teased, a cocky smirk under his mask.

A sigh left your lips, debating on what you should say. ‘Do I wanna piss him off, or just drop it…’ you thought to yourself.

“I said, “it shows how weak you are”. Losing a fight to a monk is embarrassing.” You spoke. His cold hand went to your neck, putting slight pressure and pushing you against the desk that held bottles of pills, medicines, and other medical equipment. His other hand went up to his mask, pulling it off and setting it onto the table you were pinned against.

“I hate how annoying your voice is,” he started, the grip on your neck became harder with every word he spoke. Bi-Han leaned down towards your ear, his cold breath tickling your earlobe as he whispered, “maybe I should find a way to keep you quiet.”

You snickered at him comment. “Oh yeah? How you gonna do that, huh?” You asked in a cocky tone.

Now you regret ever saying those words.

Your pants and shoes laid on the ground, one leg around Bi-Hans waist and his fingers worked on your wet, dripping cunt. Bi-Hans pants were down as well, only far enough for his cock to hang out, throbbing a dripping with pre, Your soft, yet desperate moans and whines echoed throughout the room, as Bi-Han inserted a third finger, your moans got louder and louder, but his soft, yet cold lips met your warm ones.

His fingers pulled out of your cunt, your slick sticking to his fingers. The lost of contact made you whimper against his lips, causing him to pull back. “You look so pathetic underneath me, moaning and whimpering. Just for me.” He spoke, gripping your chin. He forced your head up harshly, making you keep eye contact with him.

His hand let go of your chin, moving his hand down towards his hard, throbbing cock. He gave himself a few pumps, before lining himself up with your hole and shoving himself inside of you, earning a loud, yet surprised whimper from you.

“Fuck—! Give me a warning before you shove yourself in me!” You whined at him. He pushed the medical supplies onto the ground, the harshly pushing you against the table. “You do not get warnings.” He said, moving his hips against yours. The noises in the room started off soft, but the sounds of skin on skin and your moans only got louder.

The cold hand on your neck blocked your airways a prevented you from even getting a sound out. He leaned down towards your ear, whispering degrading words that could make someone cry, but in your case, it only turned you on more. “Look at how greedily you’re taking me. How does it feel, hmm?” He asked into your ear. Bi-Han leaned up, throwing his head back in pleasure.

The strangled moans and cries told him everything he needed to know. “I am going to claim you, breed you, mark you as my own. Would you like that, my dear?” He asked. He took some of the pressure of your neck only to hear you answer. “Yes—! Please, keep going!” You whimpered pathetically.

“Good girl..” he grunted out, placing the same pressure back onto your neck. A cold hand came down to your thigh, the stinging sensation never leaving. “D-did you just— fucking hit me?!” You managed to speak, but it only sounded like a broken record. “Shut up and take it.” He hissed at you, throwing a leg over his shoulder.

The new position made your eyes roll to the back of your head, and your back arching off the desk slightly. With every thrust, your breast bounced, as well as the table hitting the wall. “I’m going to give you a son, whether you like it or not.” His voice rasped.

“Close! So close!” You gasped out. Bi-Hans hand left your throat, and went to your lips, covering your mouth to prevent you from crying out. “You’re so noisy. You are going to wake everyone up. Do you want that? Do you want someone to walk in and see how deep I am inside of your?” His raspy voice asked.

The thought of getting caught flew into your mind, causing your cunt to throb and your walls tightening around him. With a loud, yet muffled moan, you came. Hard. Your vision went blurry, your back arching off the table and toes curling. Bi-Han came behind you with a loud groan, but muffling it as he leaned down to the crook of your neck. His cock stayed inside of you, refusing to let any of his cum slip out.

Your heavy breaths were the only thing that was heard through the room, before you broke the silence. “I hate you. With all of my guts.” Bi-Han snapped back, sitting up and looking you in the eyes. “Were you saying that when I was buried inside of you?”

✰ banner: https://www.tumblr.com/yizaicons

[bethelighthalazia]

Ruined everything!

Summary:  Jealousy takes the better of your boyfriend and the stress of the last days just makes him say things he regrets.

Genre: angst (?), fluff (?)

Pairing: bf!Hongjoong X fem!reader

Word Count:  604

Warnings: none

[note: It's just a little drabble, but i saw this gif and it just gave me this tiny bit idea which i just had to write down ^^’]

© by bethelighthalazia. Do not repost, copy or translate. Unless stated otherwise, those works are mine and born from my own ideas. I don't have any claim on the mentioned real existing Idols whatsoever.

Laughing, you stood aside with Seonghwa, who was taking his break from shooting. You had brought coffee for everyone and waited with him for all the others to take their break too, although when Hongjoong comes up to you, he already looks a bit moody. It doesn't stop you from holding his coffee towards him with a smile.

“Hey Joong, here's your coffee. Seonghwa said you didn't have one y-” Before you could finish your sentence though, one of the members accidentally bumps against you while talking to the others and causes you to drop Hongjoong's coffee. Unfortunately, it spills onto his outfit. You tried to catch the cup and when you look up into his face, you actually wince, his expression more than angry.

“Great, y/n! Now I have to get changed and the staff has even more work!” Hongjoong huffs out, grabbing the tissues from your hand harshly before you hurry to get more tissues. “Hongjoong, it's fine, the stain is not as big, we can fix it.” Seonghwa tries to calm the captain, but for some reason, this seems to anger him just even more. “Yeah, of course you stand up for her, huh? How about you take her then? Don't need a stupid girlfriend who ruins everything all the time!”

These words feel like a slap in your face and the moment Hongjoong turns and sees you standing there, he feels horrible for saying it. Of course he loves you, but the day had stressed him so much, he lost his patience and let it out on you. “Y/n, I-” He started, but cut himself off, noticing the tears that had appeared in your eyes. 

You didn't want to hear it, your week already had been shit and now your boyfriend says this? Before anyone could react, you throw the tissues at him and turn around, leaving the set, running. It just had to happen someday, Hongjoong is an idol and you are just a normal girl, so why should one like him love you?

It didn't take long for your phone to blow up, the boys asking you to come back and that your boyfriend didn't mean it. When Hongjoong called, you declined the call and turned off your phone for now. If he truly wanted to find you,he knew where you would go. The only place, you always felt safe and comfortable, even though without him, it felt cold.

Hours went by, you had curled up on the chair in his studio, and when Hongjoong entered it, you had fallen asleep from crying. When he saw you there, his heart stopped for a moment, thankful that you didn't leave completely. Carefully, he laid a blanket over you before sending the boys a text, letting them know that he found you. 

“Y/n…I'm so sorry for what I said. I never meant it…” He whispered, his fingers gently caressing your temple, then he carefully lifted you out of the chair to settle down on the little sofa with you in his arms. “D- don't leave me, joongie…” Your voice was quiet and sleepy as you shuffled in his arms without waking up, bringing a sad smile to Hongjoong's lips. 

“I would never leave you, y/nnie…I love you too much for that. You are my best friend, my muse, my treasure. And I'm so sorry for hurting you with my words. I swear, this will never happen again.” He whispered, followed by endless quiet apologies until the captain also fell asleep, his arms wrapped around you in fear of losing you because of his stupid words.

taglist: @mingis-mizu, @tinyelfperson

(if you want to be added to a taglist, follow the taglist-link in my pinned post)

[yunhoszn]

(this is user sourkimchi pls don’t perceive me on main lmao)

i saw another user post this abt this hongjoong fit and it’s been living in my head rent free…

as a fellow asian rave bisexual.. i need a fic for this concept 🫣

(not so) alcohol-free

PAIRING kim hongjoong x f!reader

WORD COUNT 3.46k

GENRES fluff?﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, clubbing scene, reader feels self conscious, mentions of alcohol, strangers to lovers?, ummmmm hardly any plot tbh half of the wc is porn, couch sex, little bit of foreplay (vaginal fingering), some marking here and there i think, cowgirl position, missionary, protected sex, allusions to multiple rounds of unprotected sex, not beta’d or proofread bc we rawdog this shit like men

SUMMARY notorious for canceling plans at the last minute, you finally let your friends drag you out for a night at the club. however, a chance encounter with the prettiest man you’ve ever seen has the night turning to something unexpected.

MORE AAAAAAND i finally finished my first request LOLLLLL here u go yves!! i kinda strayed away from the main idea bc i wanted to make it my own, but i hope this meets ur expectations <3

@atzhouse

You had a natural affinity for canceling plans at the last minute. You’re not sure why, especially because you always get an awful case of FOMO every time you do. It’s your own fault that you feel left out when your friends get together without you.

No matter how far in advance you plan for the event, you somehow still find a way to lose your motivation to go. You haven’t properly hung out with your friend group in months, so when they start talking about clubbing tonight, you immediately say yes. 

At first, you think you’ll change your mind an hour later, since it’s only an afternoon’s notice. But when you realize your friends will be here to pick you up in thirty minutes and you’re finishing your makeup, you nearly jump for joy. You successfully stuck it out for once. 

Even as you’re sandwiched between Wooyoung and Mingi in the backseat, San in the drivers’ seat and his girlfriend in the passenger, you’re still shocked that this is your reality. You’re actually dolled up and you’re actually on your way to a club right now. 

“Y/N, do you remember the signal if someone hits on me?”

“Wooyoung, no one’s hitting on you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Mingi. It could happen.”

You snort, pulling your skirt down a little. “Woo, we should come up with a signal for if I get hit on.”

“Yeah, Y/N’s more likely to get laid than you are even though she’s bitchless, too.” Mingi nods, adjusting his sunglasses. (You have no idea why he’s wearing sunglasses at 10 PM.)

“Kill your—”

“We’re here!” San announces, effectively putting a pin in any argument that was about to begin. As long as your friendship with the males spanned, he’s always been the mediator. You’ve known the three of them dating all the way back to high school, lumped in the same homeroom your freshman year. The four of you sat in the same general vicinity and got grouped together for a project once and you’ve been inseparable ever since. 

You know you look hot, Wooyoung wolf-whistling at you the moment you started walking towards the car, but you still feel a bit insecure. It probably has everything to do with the fact that you don’t go out much and you’re self-conscious as is. Stepping into the crowded club, a scene that could only be compared to a sardine can, has you shrinking in on yourself. 

Instinctively, you tug on the hem of your skirt to attempt to cover your ass a little more. Then you wrap your arms around your midriff, though your cleavage leaves pretty much nothing to the imagination. You swallow thickly as your trail behind your friends, like a lost puppy with its tail between its legs. 

This is why you always back out of plans. You feel so out of place, like you don’t fit in even when people try to include you. It feels like everyone’s staring at you, waiting for one wrong move so they can point and laugh like you were the butt of some sort of weird joke. You’re ready to go home. 

“Are you okay?” Mingi asks once you’ve settled at an empty high table just a few feet from the dance floor. Through his stupid sunglasses, you can make out the concern on his features. 

“Yeah, I think so,” your lips purse, arms hugging yourself tighter. “I just haven’t been out in so long. I feel… like I shouldn’t be here or something. I’ll be fine. I hope.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, but doesn’t ask any more questions, instead turning to San and his girlfriend who were about to make a trip to the bar. Your poison for the night is simple, a plain margarita that’ll ease your nerves more than anything else. You weren’t much of a beer person, often opting for fruitier, sweeter drinks in comparison to your male counterparts. (When you do go out with them, that is.)

Wooyoung and Mingi fall into a heated discussion about who knows what, leaving you to become a third wheel while you wait for the couple to come back with your drinks. You people-watch to pass the time, chewing on the inside of your lip, your eyes flitting around the club like some kind of guilty criminal. Almost immediately, they land on a guy in the middle of the dance floor. 

He’s hypnotizing, body fluidly moving to the song the DJ’s playing and matching the energy of his friend standing next to him, two girls in front of and facing them. His dark hair falls into his eyes slightly, though parted and styled damn near perfectly. He’s dressed in a black tweed jacket, a white button up left open enough to reveal a couple necklaces resting on his sternum, some ripped jeans, and black boots. But none of that is what caught your attention. 

You’re entranced by his smile, its brightness and how fucking pretty he looks wearing it. You caught the tail-end of something his friend said that made him laugh, and you feel yourself being pulled in deeper and deeper without a single conversation with him. Too bad he seems unavailable. 

“Woah, N/N, might wanna wipe your chin,” Wooyoung teases, a stupid smirk on his face that you want to punch away. “I think you’re drooling a little.”

Mingi howls with laughter, falling onto the table to support himself. He clutches at his stomach as it cramps up from how hard he’s laughing. It wasn’t even that funny. You roll your eyes. 

“Shut up, Wooyo.” 

“Who are you even staring at?” He inquires, resting his elbows on the high top surface, his chin placed on his hands. He blinks at you expectantly, like he’s not letting you off the hook. You avoid his gaze, simultaneously ensuring that you don’t look in the attractive stranger’s general direction either. This all felt so elementary. 

“None of your business.” You murmur, ducking your head. Thankfully, San and his girlfriend return to the table with your drinks perfectly timed, and the topic is dropped completely. 

The first sip of your margarita is damn near heavenly, the alcohol flowing through your system smoothly and calming that storm waging in your mind. It’s not too strong, just enough that another couple drinks would inebriate you entirely. It aids with the anxiety of being in such a packed space, but that feeling of not belonging still sits inside your chest. 

You can’t help but look for the stranger again, who’s no longer on the dance floor. Now he’s on the other side of the club at another high table. His friend is still with him, but the girls from before are nowhere to be found. You focus on his hands and the chunky rings on his fingers, the way he holds his beer bottle, the way his free hand runs through his hair. Your tongue twirls around the straw in your glass out of habit, enthralled by this man who has yet to give you the time of day. 

Except when you glance up to admire his face, you discover that he’s already looking back at you. He’s nodding along to his friend’s words, but his eyes are zeroed in on you, a different kind of smile playing on his lips. Your features fall slightly from being caught red handed, cheeks warming up significantly. You aren’t sure what’s more embarrassing, caught gawking at a stranger by your own friend or by the stranger himself. Truly, the universe was out to get you. 

You down the rest of your margarita and excuse yourself to go to the restroom, needing a second to gather your bearings. Your skin is flushed and you have to hold your cheeks between your palms as you psych yourself up in the mirror. Why should you feel ashamed of thinking someone’s hot? You were only human. Besides, you looked good, too. 

When you exit the restroom, you’re shocked to see the stranger walking out of the men’s restroom at the same time. Your eyes are wide and your body freezes. He gives you that smile from before, ruffling his hair as if this interaction wasn’t difficult enough. 

“I was hoping I’d bump into you,” he says, unabashedly drinking in your figure. “It’s not everyday someone as gorgeous as you crosses my path.”

So he’s a flirt. Noted. 

“I could say the same,” you manage to get out, though your palms are already clamming up. “If fleeting glances across a dance floor count as crossing paths.”

He laughs and you swear it’s the best sound you’ve ever heard. A couple girls come into the hallway, and you maneuver so they can go into the women’s restroom. His hand comes to rest on your lower back when your balance wavers slightly. 

“I’m Hongjoong, by the way,” he introduces himself since he’s in such close proximity to you now. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Yeah, sure,” you nod, too distracted by how much prettier he is only inches away from you. “I’d like that.”

Hongjoong leads you to the bar, a gentle hand wrapped around your wrist so he doesn’t lose you in the crowd. He orders himself a beer and turns to you to ask what you’re having. While waiting for the bartender to whip up your drinks, he strikes up a conversation. 

“Are you gonna tell me your name?” 

You scratch the back of your neck sheepishly. “Oh yeah, sorry… It’s Y/N.”

He repeats it, like he’s testing out the taste in his mouth. The smile that graces his features afterwards says all you need to know. It has butterflies flapping around rampantly in the pit of your stomach, nearly knocking the wind out of you. He thanks the bartender seconds later when he slides your margarita and his beer bottle across the bar. 

“So, Y/N, what brings you out tonight?” He takes a swig from his bottle, one arm leaning onto the surface of the bar. God, the things you would do to him if given the chance…

“Catching up with my friends,” you answer honestly, baby-sipping your margarita through the straw. “I don’t really go out much, because I’m really bad when it comes to canceling plans at the last minute.”

“Should I consider myself lucky then?” Hongjoong quirks a brow, licking his lower lip. If men had anything, it was the audacity. And this man had the audacity to do everything in his power to lure you in with his good looks and charisma. 

“I’ll have you know that this is a one of a kind, once in a lifetime opportunity,” you play along, stirring the slowly-melting ice cubes around your glass. “You’re a very fortunate man.”

“Yeah?” He laughs again and you think you might faint right here and now. He looks off to the other side of the club and then back at you. “I think Prince Charming over there is looking for you.”

He points at the table where your friends are, and you find that Wooyoung is glancing around in search of something, or someone. Namely you. It’s most likely because you went to the restroom and then never returned. He’ll live. 

“Wooyoung? Nah, he’s just being a good friend. I raised him right,” you turn back to him, sipping at your drink leisurely. “Now where were we? Something about you being lucky?”

“Hwa, I’ll— shit— I’ll have to call you back,” Hongjoong forces out, promptly hanging up so he can focus on putting you in your place. You’re like a damn leech, lips attached to his neck, marking the supple skin like it was your job. Your hands paw at the button of his jeans, your lower half grinding down on his lap. “So fucking impatient. Can’t even wait until I’m off the phone?”

“Want you too bad, Joong,” you pout, slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt, his jacket lost somewhere near the front door. He groans when the nickname falls from your mouth. You had no idea how sexy you were.

The two of you were so insatiable, you couldn’t even make it to the bedroom, collapsing on his couch. You hardly had the mind to message your friends to let them know your whereabouts. His hands hold your ass firmly, halting you from any further teasing. You whine, pushing his shirt off of his shoulders. Your nails drag down his toned abdomen, enjoying the way it tenses beneath your touch. After all he’s put you through tonight, you think you at least deserve a bit of payback. Just a bit. 

“Are you too antsy to make it through foreplay?” He coos and presses a quick kiss to your lips, trailing a few along your jawline. Your eyes flutter shut with a hum and a nod. It was true. If he didn’t fuck you soon, you feared you might go insane. 

“I need you inside me already,” you whine, trying to spread your legs and create more friction downstairs. He chuckles at how desperate you are, how touch starved you must be considering you don’t get out much. It fuels his pride knowing he’s the only one to see you like this, to have you like this, for the first time in who knows how long. If he’s successful, maybe he’ll be the only one ever. 

Hongjoong bunches your skirt around your waist, sneaking a hand between your bodies to rub tight, gentle circles into your clothed clit. A blissful sigh escapes you, your forehead dropping to his shoulder. The cocky smile you’ve grown to adore over the course of the night decorates his lips at how quickly he has you falling apart at his fingertips. 

His middle and ring digits push your underwear to the side, sliding down your slit to prod at your entrance. He nips at the base of your throat, working his way up to the spot behind your ear. Your sighs grow into whimpers, squirming around on his lap when he applies pressure to your cunt with the pad of his middle finger. 

“You’re so wet, sweetheart,” he mutters into your skin, shivers running down your spine from the low register he uses. He circles his digit around your hole, not quite giving you what you need. “You weren’t kidding about how bad you wanted me.”

You’re about to quip back, but then he’s inserting a finger and rubbing your clit with his thumb. You gasp, biting down on his collarbone to ground yourself. As much as you would love to sit here and let him finger you until sunrise, you have bigger priorities. “Mmm, Joong, please… Fuck me, please…”

He kisses his teeth, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. He supposes he can satiate your hunger, though he really wanted to take his time with you. “Do you think you can be still while I put the condom on?”

You pull back and nod enthusiastically, sitting on your haunches slightly, fingers locked behind his neck. “I’ll be so good, I promise. I just need you, like, now.”

All he can do is laugh, and you melt into a puddle in his arms. You’ve concluded that smile of his would quite honestly be the death of you. He removes his fingers from your pussy, instead squeezing your hip before helping you onto the couch cushion beside him. You rest on your knees as he unbuttons his jeans and kicks them off, swiftly grabbing his wallet out of his pocket and plucking a condom from it. In the same breath, he’s taking off his underwear and tugging you back on top of him. 

He places the foil packet between his teeth so he can quickly aid you in the discarding of your panties. Now that your cunt is bare, you can feel the heat of his cock and it’s so hypnotic. Your eyes can barely stay open as you watch him tear open the condom packet and roll it on. He’s the perfect thickness and the perfect length, and you feel so special straddling his lap right now. 

Hongjoong kisses you softly, gripping your waist so he can guide you to sit on his cock. The first breach of your entrance has a shaky exhale leaving your lips against his own. You stay like that for a second so you can adjust to the feel of him inside of you, the fullness in your lower half, and overall just how fucking good it feels. He grins when you slowly start bouncing up and down, his dick thrusting in and out under you. 

“How are you doing, sweetheart?” He pecks your cheek, moving downward and reaching behind your back to untie your halter top. It slips off of you with ease, revealing your tits to him. 

“So good, Joong… Feels so good,” you arch into him, whining and moaning every time he brushes that crook in your cunt that has you seeing stars. He peppers kisses all over your chest and sternum, scraping his teeth along the skin of your breast. You whimper, nails sinking into his back and your toes curling. You’re completely aware of what’s going on, but those two margaritas have to be contributing to the pleasure swirling in your abdomen. 

“Yeah? You’re taking me so fucking well,” His eyebrows knit together when you switch your pace, sitting on him fully and letting his cock fill you for a couple seconds. In reality, your knees were starting to ache and get tired, something he recognizes instantly because he was so attentive. 

His hand holds the small of your back and he flips you so you’re in missionary on the couch now without skipping a beat. The change in position allows for a change in angle, his dick dragging against your velvety walls deliciously. Your sounds grow in volume, scratching his back when he pushes one of your knees to your chest. 

You weren’t anticipating to end up here at the end of the night, but you don’t think you could dare complain. While a majority of this night felt like a fever dream, you feel a high that’s never taken over you before. 

Hongjoong’s hair falls into his eyes as he glances down at where your bodies meet, his cock disappearing inside of you and then sliding out with ease. You intertwine your fingers behind his head, pulling him down so you can connect your lips in a fervent, passionate kiss. That familiar summit is within view now, your hand nudging his own to your clit so you can inch closer towards it. 

His thumb swipes side to side on the sensitive bundle of nerves, never once breaking your kiss. There’s so much stimulation going on for you, you’re starting to feel dizzy. In a good way. He’s gentle in a way that’s still rough enough to knock the daylights out of you and the juxtaposition makes the moment all the more enjoyable. 

“‘M so close, Joong,” you arch off the sofa in an attempt to be closer to him, to sandwich yourself between him and the couch. 

His thrusts become faster and more calculated, but he doesn’t break the focus on your clit. His efforts come to fruition and he mumbles words of encouragement for you as you finally reach that boiling point. A strangled moan falls from your mouth and you spread your legs to suck him in further. 

The uncontrollable fluttering of your walls following your climax is almost too much for him and he has to pull out. Your eyes are half lidded, nimble fingers rolling off the condom. He fucks his fist until he’s painting the area between your tits with his cum.

The two of you don’t move right away, regaining your composure. He leans down to kiss you sweetly, and then repeats the action all over your face until you’re a giggly mess. This is probably the best sex you’ve ever had in your life, and part of you doesn’t want to go home— whether that be later or tomorrow morning. 

“Do you have the energy to go again, or should I go grab a warm washcloth to clean you up?” He raises an eyebrow at you, indicating that he’s just joking but he’s totally down if you are. You laugh, running your fingers through his hair. 

“If you give me a minute, I’m all set to do that again,” you start, resting your eyes for a second. “You don’t have to worry about a condom this time. I kinda wanna feel you raw.”

Hongjoong laughs in disbelief, glancing away from you and then letting his forehead fall onto your shoulder. “What have I gotten myself into…”

© yunhoszn. do not steal, claim, or repost. 

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝕊𝕋ℝ𝔸ℕ𝔾𝔼ℝ𝕊 (Crumb)

You were once his colorful spark of adventurous dreams while he was stuck in a monotone nightmare of what had been chosen for him. And now, years after he'd escaped and quietly disappeared, he's back- and you're nothing but strangers.

Tags/Warnings: non-idol AU, Angst, Friends to strangers to lovers, smut, I know you've all been waiting for what mom might make out of the groceries aka topless calvin Klein kook, mentions of death, mentions of questionable past time activities (smoking, drinking, drugs but no consumption of such, sex, gambling), more TBA

Length: ???

-> this is going to be a One-shot. Additional content can be added if requested.

🌟 This work has Patreon perks! Please check my navigation post (pinned) for more info!

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"Where's puffball?" Jungkook asks, carefully walking into your apartment, visibly tense as he follows you slowly, rather taking a look around.

"Where he always sleeps." You simply say, and Jungkook needs to think for a second, before his face turns towards the corner near your entrance door, where a small coffee table stands instead of the tiny red dog bed he was expecting-

A picture of the tiny off-white poodle mix on top of it, his baby blue collar in front with a candle unlit.

"Oh.." jungkook can't find the words, his throat suddenly clogging up. Everyone always said how ugly that dog was, and yeah, objectively he was- with the overbite and tongue hanging out, he truly wouldn't have ever won a beauty contest. But you loved the little guy- and Jungkook loved him too, despite his constant yapping.

"Died of kidney failure last year December." You shrug as you search through a bookshelf, opening a folder with documents. "Wasn't surprising."

"I'm.." he starts, before he bites his lip, scratches the back of his neck. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" You chuckle, trying to just brush it off. Truth be told it still hurts to talk about it- but you don't want him to know that. "You didn't kill the guy." You joke, taking out some paperwork as you sit down on the couch.

"No, It's not that-" he says, eyes focused on the grey-ish pull out couch in front of him.

The same you both made love on, years ago, the same he held you on through the entire night before you went for a round two in the morning, the same he decided that he needs change on.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there. To.. comfort you." He offers.

Again, only a shrug of your shoulders. You don't acknowledge him at all, it feels like.

And he can't even blame you.

"Here- that should be all the papers for the car." You instead change the topic, holding out the documents- which he takes, though he sits down next to you as well, with a respectful distance. It feels off, awkward, like punishment for his cowardly behavior years prior.

It's like you switched sides- your tattoos covered up by simple black leggings, blank white top covering your upper half. The only hint of color is in the split ends of your hair- though even that's faded to the point of almost being unrecognizable.

And now he's the rebel of the two of you, going against the norms with his tattoos and piercings and hair and everything- something he'd always admired you for, back then.

But the world had finally broken you down it looks like- society having forced you into submission after all, despite your back then huge ambitions.

"Are you sure I can just.. have it?" He asks again, just to make sure you really don't want the car any longer- and you nod.

"I had a seizure three months back, so I'm not allowed to drive anyway." You say nonchalantly, leaning back against the couch, arms and legs crossed to almost fend him off it seems like. "Not that I'd want to ever again." You confess.

"..down the old EDM club." He suddenly says, looking at you. "Near the main road. That was you?" He asks, and you nod, though your furrowed brows and challenging eyes show clearly that you're asking for why he knows about it. "I.. kept up with the news and.." he sighs, running his fingers through his hair, the other hand careful not to clutch the papers too hard. "I wanted to know you're alright."

"Cool." You simply say, nothing else.

He looks at you, waiting for something more you might day- but you don't. You just look at him with a strange mixture of emotions he can't really distinguish. It's all washed together into one muddy mess- and he knows it's his fault that you're so on guard.

He's a stranger to you now, after all.

"Car was never fixed up, by the way." You say, moving to get up. "So you've got some work to do or money to spend." You say, and Jungkook gets up as well, walking after you towards the door that you open for him.

He slips back into his Chelsea boots, before he looks back at you, mouth opening before you can even deny him. "I know you're pissed at me." He says. "And you got every right to."

"Great we talked about that- now leave." You say, pointing out the door.

"I'm not gonna say this to get my dick wet." He tells you with a serious face, as you stare him down, daring him foe his next words. "But I need you to know that you.. what happened between us, that was fucking special." He says. "So much so that I knew I had to change in order to.. become someone." He says.

"Someone what?" You ask, crossing your arms defensively- because his words are getting to you.

"Just someone." He explains. "I wasn't anyone at all back then. Just.. a puppet who did what I for told. I had no personality. No ambitions, nothing- I only had you." He words out, and your gaze softens. "And I couldn't stay with you because.. I would've probably hurt you at some point."

"You still did." You say, and he nods, tongue playing with his piercing.

"I did." He agrees. "But not as bad as I would've if I'd stayed." He tries to justify. "I- listen, can't we.. start over?" He wonders, looking at you with hopeful eyes. "We're basically strangers by now anyway, aren't we?"

You are.

The jungkook in front of you is nothing like the blank canvas he used to be. He's vibrant despite the lack of color he's actually wearing, full of emotions, opinions and views. This jungkook is filled to the brim with things-

While you've become empty instead now, taking his place.

"I don't think I'm the person you remember." You deny. "We don't fit- in fact, we never did." You shake your head.

"Five years might change a lot-" he says, round black orbs watching you intently. "-but the won't change what's in here." He says, offers, hopes, inked finger gently pointing to where your heart sits underneath the shirt and your skin and bones.

And much to your demise, he seems to be right.

Because you're sure he can probably feel it beating faster from this faint touch alone.

[arcanumofthestars]

ALASTOR X FEM READER HEAD CANONS?!

This is my first ever attempt of writing, well anything except for essays for schools, and all that in Greek, so be nice everyone, I know it's not that good and I can't add those pretty wavy lines or pictures for the life of me so if you have tips it would be very appreciated.

Alastor x Fem!Reader Headcanons.

- If one thing can be said for Alastor, he's a gentleman. He treats you in the way a proper lady should be treated.

- When he first meets you, he is interested of course, and does not forget to let you know.

- He won't tell you, but it's pretty obvious, from the small things he does for you, like holding the door, offering you his arm when you walk side by side, or kissing your hand when he hasn't seen you for a long time.

- He argues with himself every day, debating whether he should try to make a deal for your soul, to keep you his forever.

- He rejects the idea in the end, as he recognises that his feelings have grown deeper than just possessiveness.

- And he wonders why.

- It's not your appearance, although you're very beautiful, it's just not it. It's not the fact you believe in redemption either. Cute, adorable maybe, but still not it. And finally, he realises. It's the small touches you put in everything, little signs that say “**Reader** was here”.

- Like how you put a bit more spice in the food you make. How you might rearrange the chairs around the table because you got bored. How you can have a deep conversation with Angel or Husk and lift their spirits immediately. How you encourage Charlie when she needs it.

- And how you can see right through him. When you made jambalaya because you “accidentally” overheard that it's his favourite. When you mirror his manners because you know he gets angry and frustrated with rudeness and slang. When you keep Niffty and the Egg Boys away when he's not in the mood to deal with them. When you asked for permission to go up to his radio tower to clean up a bit, claiming that it must be… well… filthy after all those years. When you know he wants to go out to kill so you leave some towels and black coffee in his room for when he returns. (He doesn't know how the coffee is always warm even if he returns the next day, and it's driving him crazy.)

- He told Husk about it. It's not like the bartender would tell anyone, after all Alastor owns his soul.

- It takes months of deep talking and cheerful conversations for him too actually ask you out, as he is concerned that you might reject him because of his blood lust. But he does. And you say yes.

- The first date is something really classy, a fancy restaurant maybe, with romantic candles, and music, delicious food, and you two even dance a bit.

- A whole lot dates follow, and when things finally become official, everyone in the hotel is dumbfounded, but happy anyway. Maybe you'll manage to put some sense in the Radio Demon after all.

- The whole time Alastor calls you pet names like “dear” or “darling”, though when he wants to fluster you he might say a soft “baby” in his sentence, because, let's not forget that this kind of pet name was considered top in the 1930’s.

- And, oh well, sinners can't have kids, but you have a lot of work in the hotel anyway.

- Alastor even lets you say some stuff in his radio broadcast sometimes. And, definitely, he does NOT talk about you for twenty minutes after that every time.

- And the smile on the Radio Demon's face does not look so forced any more.

That's all for now! I'll be back for more! My requests are open! I'm waiting for suggestions!Check the fandoms I write for in my pinned post.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 20

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: Have a good day.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The crackling of the fire grows clearer as the tides of sleep swirl and still. Your eyelids part to the flicker of the hearth, a figured limned in the rustic haze, looming over you, lifting you, moving you with ease. You stir and fidget, pressing a hand to the firm wall against your arm. The woolly tunic scratches against your palm as you feel the pulsing of a heartbeat beneath.  

You look up at the square jaw of your accoster. King Geralt lays you on the mattress, your disposed clothes cleared away from the corner. He's gentle as he sets your head on the pillow, caressing your cheek and your hip as he draws away. He stands, looking down on you as his fingers curl and extend, a hot breath rushing from his nostrils. 

You watch him as the the world sharpens around you and a flow rolls over you like cold water. You push yourself up on your elbows as the king's eyes rove your figure beneath the thin shift. He sways and brushes his hand over his chest, letting out a deep rumble. 

You want to say something. Anything. Just a word to break the fragile tension between you. You can't get a single noise out. He stares down at you with his gold eyes, like coins shining, forged in flame. 

He sits on the edge of the bed, snug to you as he rests his hand on the other side of you, tenting his arm over you. His other crawls along your shoulder and down to your wrist, walking back up again. His fingertips spread goose prickles along your flesh as you lay frozen in his fiery exploration. 

The haze of the fireplace, the gleam of his eyes, and the dregs of your drowsiness make you doubt the realness of it all. Are you dreaming still? Everything is so much more than it should be. His heat, his touch, the way you can feel his need radiating from him. 

You fall flat, staring at him, entranced by him. He brings his calloused palm to cradle your face. You gasp and latch onto his wrist.He lets his fingers flutter away and turns his arm, looking down at your grasp on him, cautious but firm. You see how his cheek strains and he sits up, grazing his other hand over yours.  

He covers your hand with both of his and draws it up. He unveils it like some precious treasure and kisses each knuckle. You shake as each brush of his lips tingles through you. He pulls back and keeps hold of you, lowering your hand between you. 

"You fear me," he says, "you fear what I want from you." His voice is low and sonorous, "I want nothing from you. I only want you, my summer maid." He inhales deeply and lets it out with a quaver as you feel the tremor in him, "my treasure." 

Your eyes sting and tears soften the lines in your vision. You shake your head, a knot in your throat, a pinch in your chest. He brings your hand flat to one of yours and twines his thick fingers between yours. The difference is drastic, a reflection of your status. He is all-powerful and you are a speck in the wind. 

"I have worn a heavy crown, I have raised an army, I have bled in battle, and not of it can compare to this, my treasure. You are my greatest achievement. By fates, I found you. I thought that I was destined to sit the throne, to unite these peoples, to hold it all in my hand," he squeezes, "but this is all I need have in my grasp. This is what called me to your southern plains. All of it for you. I have won it and so quickly as you bid me, I would give it up." 

Your lashes flick as your heart swells. He cannot mean it. Not any of it. You are only a maid. 

"You have your fear, little maid, and I have mine. They are one and the same," he gazes down at you, eyes wrought in layers of pain, sadness, and longing, like the sediment of the earth, worn and weathered through the years. "I fear myself all the same as you. I have withheld myself for as long as I can and yet I feel myself dwindling. I feel the rope fraying." 

You sniff and shake your head, "your highness..." you croak and your voice seems to crackle in the air, "Queen Jazlene--" 

"Do not speak her name. I beg of you. Treasure, I beg. I will beg you anon." 

He keeps hold of you and shifts off the bed. He brings himself to his knees at the side of the bed, clinging to you as he once more kisses your hand. As you lay helpless to him. 

"Do not fear me. How can you when I only mean to worship you," he rasps. "As any treasure, I only mean to prize you, to hold you dear, to keep you from those who would steal you away. To keep you for my own. Treasure, you are mine, all mine. By rights, I, King Geralt of Rivia and the Hinterlands, claim you. No other shall have you. Upon my life, I could not bear it." 

You close your eyes, ice trickling into your veins at his declaration. He is king, he is the almighty, and you are his. You are sworn to serve and by rights of marriage, you are bound to him. Even if it wrong, even it transcends the vow he spoke to another, a king may bend the laws as serve his purposes. A maid may only obey. 

"You have forsaken me," you whisper. 

He kneels in silence, lowering his head to rest on your hand. You lay in tableau, strangled and solemn, as he prostrates himself at your side. As a mourner might do for some tragic corpse. Is that not what this is? Grief for the treachery of it all. 

"I belong to you," he speaks at last, rising as he releases you. Your eyes roll open and pinpoint on him.  

He turns away and pulls at his tunic, stripping it from his broad shoulders, revealing a back ridged with muscles. He drops it on the seat of a chair and sits in another. He is patient as he unbinds the straps of his boots and removes each in turn, placing them neatly aside. He undresses piece by piece, rapt in the task of his dissembling. 

He remains only in his braies, the short garment ending at the top of his thick thighs. His stomach is as thick as the rest of his, muscles wrapping around his arms and chest, fur like the very wolf he's sewn into his cloak. He approaches the bed and you steel yourself for him. 

He lifts himself over you, hovering just above, his hands above your shoulders as he holds himself on his knees, straddling as he once did in the moonlight of your unconscious. He peers down and breathes a scalding plume upon you. You shiver and meet his eyes, unable to repress the wash of terror that comes over you. 

He pushes himself to the other side of you, folding his arm to fall upon his side. His other stretches over your stomach as he nestles against your side. He lays on his shoulder, facing you, and his nose brushes your temple. You clutch a fold of the blankets in your hand as his traces the shape of your side, playing with the seam of your shift. 

His touch creeps over your stomach and his lips dance on your cheek. He exhales your name into your ear and his hand cups one side of your chest. A whimper escapes your throat as your nipple hardens, poking him as he fondles you. He is gentle but diligent, eager as he explores your body, as if you are another map to be conquered. 

He trails up to your neck and his thumb draws a line along your throat. You feel his gaze but cannot face it. It burns hotter than the heart. He touches jaw and chin, as if he's never seen anything like you; cheekbones, nose, forehead, as if he is an artist moulding a statue.  

He presses his straight nose to your cheek and drapes his arm around you once more. He embraces you from the side. He tucks his fingers under you and you bring your hand to his thick forearm, feeling the soft hair along it. You claps onto him and shudder at the ceiling. 

"You will not always fear me," he whispers, "when you see the world for what it is, when you see me truly, you will feel as I do." He snarls as he leans his weight into you. "You cannot fight fate, my treasure. Even a king cannot bid what is written by destiny." 

You let every ounce of strength drain from you. You sink into the mattress, surrendering to his will. Whatever he might do, whatever he might demand of you, you will give in. That is your duty. 

He purrs as his own body relaxes, "I only wish to feel you, little maid. My soul needs yours close." He closes his eyes and bows his head to rest against yours. You shut your eyes once more but know you will not rest.  

You are afraid. You are terrified. All your life you've served but this is more than you've ever been asked. The peril is all yours. A king would never face the same atonement as a maid. 

⚔️

The king enshrines you in his warmth. You examine the white strands of his hair as you lay in his arms. Your gaze wanders further to his rounded muscle, the unmatched strength woven in his body. His statue matches the intangible authority attached to his very being. He is power incarnate. 

You feel smaller as you lay beside him. The night passes, as it will not matter water. Time marches on like the very army that invaded your homeland at the behest of the man now clinging to you. Just a maid. Just a deceiver. 

You turn your eyes past the king's sleeping form. His rumbling snores underline the soft crackle of embers breaking down. You cannot remove the danger buried deep in your chest. Memories only drive it deeper and deeper. 

Your remember when Jazlene was only a girl. You've known her through every year of her life. You've seen her grow from cradle to crown. She might be flawed, she might be selfish and rotten and mean, but she is still that life you watch round the duchess' stomach when you were but yourself a child. She is still a living being. 

There was a time when she did not obsess over jewels and silks and bottle. When you both were just young and naive. When she counted and you hid, then switched places. When you revealed yourself form behind your hands and she giggled in amazement. That time is gone and you only see doom ahead of you. 

You can't lay there any longer. 

You move the king's arm off of you and sit up. You put your back to him and bend over your lap. How you could melt to a puddle like the icy outside those castle walls. How you might wilt away like a flower without shade. 

You do not dare leave the bed. Your emotions cannot overrule the man behind you. You flinch as he quiets and his snoring turns to a long groan. A tickle crawls up your back as he touches you. He pinches the fabric, tugging it as if to get your attention. 

"Are you well, treasure?" He asks with grit in his throat. 

"It is morning," you say, though the shutters block out the day, "shall I fetch you something to break your fast?" 

He sighs and his hand fists the back of your shift. He pulls until you twist to look at him. He props himself on one elbow, holding his head as he looks at you. His expression is not as stony as it usually is. He is not the statuesque king, he is just a man, entirely vulnerable in nothing more than a piece of cloth. 

"I don't want you to be maid this day," he touches your hip, his eyes dipping to watch his hand. "I want to... show you something. I want you to know this land. Once you do, you will know me." 

"As you wish, your highness." 

His brows lower and he pushes himself up, sitting against the pillows, "it doesn't need be. What do you wish, treasure? Tell me and I will grant it?" 

You push up one shoulder, "I wish for nothing. A maid does not..." 

"Not a maid," he insists again, "you, what do you wish?" 

You lower your head and turn back to the chamber, "I would see your land. Show me then what I have not already seen." 

His forceful breath uneases you. He is disappointed, though you say exactly what you should. What he should want. You will heed his desire, he only need declare it. 

"Very well," he jostles the bed as he moves to sit beside you, "you will need to dress warmly. I will have gloves and a hat. Some boots," his arm is snug to yours, " 

"Thank you, your highness," you utter. 

"No, Geralt. My name is Geralt." 

Your chest racks and your shoulders feel as if there are pins stuck in the joint. Your lips part then clamp together. You try to muster your voice but it catches like phlegm. You nearly choke. 

"Will you say it?" He asks gently. 

You turn to glance at him. It feels next to blasphemy. You blink and he reaches to frame your face with his large hand. 

"To hear my name on your lips would me like a sacred melody. Please, treasure, just for me, you can say it," he pleads. 

You take a breath through your nose and let it out in a wisp, "Geralt." 

He smiles and his thumb runs along your chin to your lower lip, "again." 

"Geralt," you say louder and he toys with your lip, his golden eyes narrowing on it, hungering for it as if a starving man looking upon a fine citrus. 

"Again," he commands once more. 

"Ger--" 

You cannot finish is name as he covers your mouth with his. He smothers you in his need, pulling you against him, snaring you in his arms. He brings you over him as he falls onto his back, moaning as he delights in the taste of you, nibbling at your bottom lip. He hums and draws away as you breathless stare down at him. 

"I have never known paradise, not in the hinter or the summer, but I find it here," he growls, "upon my very chest, in my very arms. If only it could be forever."