#I know it doesn’t look much like them it was just an excuse to draw the dresses

[yncoreee]

CAN WE SKIP TO THE GOOD PART. Eunchae x reader

Synopsis — she can’t help with the constant teasing and flirting… well maybe she will now that chaewon has eyes on her

Warnings .ᐟ chaewon is really overprotective they have one short kiss, this is prop not all, Requested

꩜ — ⵌWord count 986

Eunchae still doesn’t know how and why she had gotten closer to you. over the past few weeks.

There was just something about you that pulled her like a magnet, the moment she laid eyes on you in the company’s building.

She couldn’t resist the constant flirting and teasing every time she met you. You were just too cute to not be babied nor teased.

Today was like the usual, lesserafim had been practicing all day, working on routines and all.

Eunchae decided to sneakily leave the practice room with the excuse of “getting some refreshments” which was obviously a lie. She was on her way to look for you.

She thought of going back, losing hopes. She was having a feeling that you didn’t come today. Until she bumped into a smaller figure.

“So sor— mmm if it isn’t the cutest girl in this building” she said with a small smirk as she helped you up from the floor.

Playfully, you rolled your eyes dusting the dirt away from your clothes. “You really suck at trying to get me flustered” you responded but couldn’t hold back a smile that tugged the corner of your lips.

“What?? I’m just telling the truth” she shrugged innocently leaning against the wall.

“Yeah right” you said with sarcasm. “Jeez, is that why you’ve been following me around like a lost puppy?” You pointed out raising an eyebrow at the taller girl.

“Oh and what if I just like you?” She asked pushing her body away from the wall, taking small steps towards you.

“You’re crazy” you rolled your eyes, playfully pushing her away. Eunchae let out a low chuckle “Yeah right. Crazy for you”. She smirked, leaning down. Of course she wasn’t going to get away that easily.

You felt your breath hitch and your heart beating faster the closer her face seemed to get to yours. Was she…..trying to kiss you.

No idea. You had absolutely no idea what she’s up to. But something about the way she stares at your lips just draws you closer to her.

Just as the gap between your lips were a mere inches apart a loud gasp was heard from behind.

“WHAT THE HECK IS HAPPENING HERE?!” Your body felt stiff after hearing the familiar voice.

Eunchae stepped away from you, like she had been caught red handed. “I-i chaewon u-unnie?” She managed to stutter, averting her gaze everywhere but the angry leader's face. Which probably looked red and on the verge of exploding.

“What the hell were you thinking of doing to my sister” she spoke through gritted teeth, eyeing the younger girl who, even though was 5cm taller, felt so small under her threatening gaze.

You stood in between them more specifically on eunchae’s side. Ready to protect her from what your sister could possibly pull next.

Eunchae on the other hand was completely baffled. She blinked multiple times at the new found information. “W-wait sister?!”

Chaewon let out a frustrated sigh. “Yes sister. Are you that dumb? Don’t you see the resemblance?!” She yelled the last part like it was the most obvious thing on earth.

“Ack!! Unnie I swear I didn’t know. I never knew! It’s just I like her soooo much, she gives me butterflies in my tummy!! I couldn’t help myself. I promise I won’t ever mess with her again!!” Eunchae pleaded practically kneeling on the ground for chaewon.

“Shut up and stop crying!” ….. “but do you seriously like her?” Chaewon asked. Her expression slowly softened.

“Yes!! I really really like her!” Eunchae nodded her head rapidly as she pulled your hands closer but immediately let go as soon as she noticed the scowl on Chaewon’s face.

Your heart felt like it was running a marathon as you glanced over at the eunchae who was being confident and teasing some minutes ago.

Chaewon closed her eyes, processing the girls words with a skeptical look. “YOU!” She opened her eyes pointing at you. “You like her back huh?”

You came back to reality closing your mouth. “Yes, I really really like her” you answered, nodding your head.

Seeing the skepticism in Chaewon’s eyes eunchae could feel her heart pounding as the pressure only increased. “Unnie I swear I’ll treat her right! I’ll be her forever love, I’ll—“

“Shut it” chaewon held up her index finger to silence the nervous girl.

She sighed finally coming to a conclusion after what seemed like ages. “Fine, I'll give you just one chance. And if you hurt her! I’ll make you decrease in height” chaewon threatened with a stern warning.

Eunchae gulped feeling intimidated by Chaewon’s facial expressions. “I promise” she whispered quietly.

“Good!” Chaewon huffed angrily stomping her foot away but came back to give another warning. “And NO kissing okay?!” She peeped her head from the wall, using her index and middle finger to point to her eyes and back at eunchae. A gesture that meant “I’m watching you”

“Y-yes no kissing” eunchae stuttered.

Eunchae let out a sigh of relief and turned to face you after she heard distant footsteps. “Damn that was hella scary” she admitted leaning against the wall again.

You let out a soft chuckle. “Well at least be happy she even agreed. Chaewon Unnie doesn’t easily agree to thing,It would’ve taken ages” you said acting like it wasn’t that much of a big deal and it was something you were used to.

Eunchae’s eyes widened. “Ages?!! I can’t wait for ages…..” eunchae spoke in a low tone, placing her hands on your waist as she pulls you closer.

She looked around making sure the coast was clear of an angry pupu before finally closing the gap between your lips, placing a short and soft kiss. “I love you y/n” she confessed nuzzling her forehead into yours.

“I love you to—“

“HONG EUNCHAE I THOUGHT I SAID NO KISSING?!!!”

“Uh oh”

[serenpedac]

Tulsi

For the prompt "Forget" of the first day of F Hauville Appreciation Week, @happyhauvillebday ^^

Words: ~1500 Rating: Gen Relationship: Female detective/Farah Hauville Warnings: None

A scent brings back memories from Farah's life in the Echo World, memories she thought she had forgotten.

Read on Ao3 here or below.

“Thank you for your help.”

One corner of Jada’s mouth curls in a smile. “Even though I couldn’t tell you anything?”

Gabi shrugs as she gets up from the chair. “No information is also information. It means we can confirm they haven’t tried to make contact here.”

“Wise words. Good luck with tracking those fae down.” Jada accompanies Gabi and Farah to the backdoor when the bell of the antique shop rings. “If you’ll excuse me?”

“Of course, see you later, Jada,” Gabi says.

Farah only gives a subdued smile. She has been unusually quiet this entire visit. At first, Gabi thought it was because she didn’t know Jada and was giving Gabi the lead on one of her first official assignments as an agent, but as the conversation had shifted from the fae rumoured to have arrived in Wayhaven to more generic topics, Farah had remained quiet. And that is nothing like her. 

Gabi is about to ask if she’s okay when Farah halts.

Farah’s nostrils flare, her eyes growing wide. She turns to the right, where an opened door provides a glimpse into a dark room.

“Farah? Everything alright?”

Farah doesn’t seem to hear her, walking into the room as if in trance. Neatly labelled jars in various sizes are lines up against the wall, sea salt, chamomile, volcanic ash, but Farah walk past those without giving them so much as a look. Instead, she goes over to some bunches hanging from the ceiling. Herbs, Gabi realises as her eyes adjust to the gloomy room. They must be hanging there to dry. Farah reaches out a hand, nearly touching them.

“You have good taste.” At Jada’s voice, Farah snaps her hand back. A guilt-stricken look crosses her face, but Jada offers her a warm smile from her place in the doorway. “That’s tulsi, it’s one of my favourites.”

Jada’s loose clothes brush Gabi’s bare arm as she passes her to join Farah.

“Would you like—” 

“Sorry. I— I have to go.” Farah rushes out, past Gabi and through the hallway. The backdoor falls shut with a loud thud right after.

“I’m sorry. I’m not sure what is going on,” Gabi says. 

Jada gives her a thoughtful look. “There’s nothing to apologise for. Let me know if there’s anything I can do, okay?” She touches the tulsi that is swaying lightly. “I will keep some on hand just in case.”

She finds Farah down the street, browsing the magazines displayed in front of the general store.

“Did you see this?” She points at a glossy cover of a fashion magazine. “I just know that Nate has something exactly like this in his closet.”

“Ehm, Farah…”

Without looking away from the model on the cover, Farah continues, “Do you think he’ll let me borrow it? It’ll be too large, sure, but I can work with that. Oversized is also a cool look, don’t you agree?” 

Gabi places her hand on Farah’s arm. “Are you okay?”

“Sure!” Farah’s smile falters when she meets Gabi’s eyes. “I mean, maybe not really…” Her shoulders drop as she puts the magazine back in the stand. “Wanna walk for a bit?”

Clouds chase across the sky, and Gabi draws her jacket tighter against the wind. The gusts of autumn chill don’t seem to bother Farah, who stares into the middle-distance as they walk in the direction of the forest and the warehouse. Once they reach th edge of the forest and the street turns into an unpaved path, Farah’s shoulders sag and she sighs.

“She reminded me of my mother.” Farah gestures back towards where they’d come from. “Not that my mother was like— I mean, Jada is a different person of course, but the way she spoke and just… You know, the aura she has, calm and wise and, well, you know.” 

For a moment, Gabi remains quiet. Farah talking about her mother is a rare occasion, and while a part of her wants to know everything about Farah, everything about her previous life and how she came to be who she is, it’s not hard to see how these memories hurt Farah. And hurting her is the last thing she wants. So, Gabi merely hums and brushes her hand against Farah’s. When Farah doesn’t withdraw, she takes her wind-chilled hand in hers. 

It seems to be enough, because Farah moves a little closer, until their shoulders touch, and continues talking. “And then there was the— those herbs.”

“Tulsi.”

“Yes, tulsi.” Farah says the words as if she’s tasting it on her tongue. “We didn’t call it that, but it’s the same, I think. No, I know it’s the same. She used to…” She swallows, her voice growing very quiet as she continues. “She used to make tea with it.”

“Ah.” A look to the side to try to determine what Farah may be thinking shows that she is frowning. Not at Gabi, she doesn’t think so, but at herself or maybe a memory. Gently, Gabi rubs her thumb over the back of Farah’s hand.

“No. No, that’s not it.” She shakes her head. “The thing is that I forgot. She used to have that tea all the time and I forgot what it even smelled like.” Her eyes are brimming with tears. “If I could forget something like that, something she did almost every day, how much more do you think I’ll forget? How much did I already forget?”

A tear rolls down her cheek, followed by another, and something in Gabi’s chest constricts. “Ow, Farah.” 

She wraps Farah in a hug, holding her tight. Her body shaking from sobbing, Farah returns the hug, face buried against Gabi’s chest. 

Being around Farah it’s so easy to forget that she used to have another life in another world. Sure, there are glimpses here and there—small things she says or slips of tongue—but with how fully and eagerly she throws herself into living life, the fact that she never chose to be here, that she was ripped from her old life, is easily overlooked.

Running her hands up and down Farah’s back, Gabi feels tears burning in her own eyes.

What else did she have to leave behind? How many memories does she have about things and people that no one here will ever entirely understand?

Farah’s neat braids press against Gabi’s cheek. There is so much she doesn’t know and may not understand, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be here for Farah in the here and now. 

After some time, Farah’s sobbing subsides and she relaxes into Gabi with a sigh. They stay like that, Farah’s head tucked against Gabi’s neck, her breathing steadying a little more with each inhale and exhale. 

Eventually, Farah draws back. Looking at the spot where she’d been leaning against just now, she wrinkles her nose. “Sorry I ruined your jacket, babe.”

Gabi stops the soothing circles she’s been rubbing on Farah’s back to cup Farah’s tear-streaked face. “No ‘sorry’ needed for that. You can ruin my jacket whenever.” She briefly touches her lips to Farah’s forehead. “I’m here for you, Farah.”

Farah sniffles, golden eyes threaded with red and shimmering, but the hint of a smile lifts up the corners of her mouth. “Always, yeah?”

“Always.”

*~*~*~*~*

Some days later they’re sitting in Gabi’s apartment, Gabi leaning back between Farah’s legs, while outside the trees are swaying in the wind and raindrops patter against the window. Her eyes are closed, all her attention on Farah’s fingers running through her hair. With each stroke, she catches a whiff of the floral perfume Farah chose to wear. It’s bright and summery, just like her and just like the summer that is now officially over. Like a memory capsule.

“What’s it, babe?” Farah asks before Gabi even realises she has an idea.

Chewing her lip, she sits up straighter. “There’s this thing we could do, you could do.” She falls quiet. Is this really the right thing to say? What if her idea only makes things worse? Not to mention she’s unsure of how to execute her idea. But Farah gives a questioning hum, fingers carding through Gabi’s hair, waiting for her to continue. “Memories and smells are tied together very closely. A scent can trigger a certain memory, like you experienced. I was thinking you could make a collection of smells that remind you of the Echo world. That way, you can come back to them whenever you want. If you want, that is.”

For a moment, Farah stays silent and stops playing with Gabi’s hair. 

Gabi twists around so she can face her, an apology ready on her lips. She should not have been the one to bring this up. It would have been better to wait until Farah was ready and had broached it herself. But something in Farah’s expression makes her stop. Her usually bright eyes are more serious than Gabi has ever seen them, watching her with a wisdom belonging to the years she has lived, rather than the age she looks.

“I think you’re right.” She pushes aside a strand of hair from Gabi’s forehead. “Will you help me?”

Gabi exhales with relief. “Yes, I would love that.”

[myokk]

Ok I only have two reasons for this🧍‍♀️

1) it’s raining all day

2) I’m bingeing Bridgerton & I wanted to draw big fluffy dresses😭

I hope it’s ok that I borrowed Clora and Lyla for this😇🙏😙 tbh I drew the sketches underneath super fast & I wish I had spent more time on them but I was too excited to do the dresses jajajajajaja

@choccy-milky @keri-mcberry

[cuteniaarts]

Here *throws random and actually much more important than I realised at first OC redesign at you after two and a half years since the OG*

Meifeng, Ming-Hua’s cousin! I just randomly remembered that she exists while putting together my OC family tree and since the only art I have of her is… nearly 3 years old and mediocre at best, and Kat and I have recently spent so much time focusing on Red Lotus siblings, I thought “Hey, why not redraw her? Just because she’s a cousin and not a sister doesn’t make her any less special than Lien-Hua, Summiya, Aiza or Haya!” (On that note… Nia give someone a brother challenge. The only one that counts is Aiza and she’s only a brother half the time)

Some headcanons about her, both new and old (the old copy-pasted over and slightly edited to save everyone the second hand embarrassment of going to look at my old art), which will go under the cut because this has gotten LONG:

Old:

Older than Ming-Hua by around 10 years

Her dad is the older half-brother of Ming-Hua's mom who’s… not the most fond of their side of the family

Has never left her home in the Foggy Swamp Water Tribe

Master healer, specialises in children. Can't have any of her own because of the high pollution levels in the swamp which is why she puts all those motherly instincts into teaching and caring for kids

Got a scar on her leg while saving Ming-Hua from some wild swamp creature when the latter was a child who was absolutely convinced she could handle everything herself and never listened to anyone. Ming-Hua still insists she had everything under control that day

She tried to understand Ming-Hua's perspective on things, she really did, but ultimately tribe mentality and fear for her cousin’s safety, believing her not to be nearly as capable as she claims to be, won over

Attempted to stop Ming-Hua from running away but was, obviously, unsuccessful

Was the one consoling Nuying after Ming-Hua left

Helped Suiren learn waterbending and held genuine affection for the girl, although she ultimately refused when Suiren begged for the chance for her and Midori to escape from Haya and live with the tribe. She thought that while Suiren would most likely adjust well, Midori was simply too Gaoling to survive in a place as dark, damp and isolated as the Swamp. She regrets that decision every day since she found out Suiren became an assassin

Mourned Ming-Hua more than anyone else in the tribe when informed of her death

New:

Was the one who babysat Ming-Hua a lot when Nuying was going through one of her depressive episodes after Cadeo left, and Ming-Hua actually enjoyed spending time with her because she was a lot less overbearing and protective than her mother. Was the first person to start calling her Ming. Sometimes Ming-Ming, but Ming-Hua had a tendency to deliver a very hard kick to the shins every time she tried that

Never left Nuying’s side when she got sick in the years following Ming-Hua’s disappearance, no matter how much everyone, including her own father, told her to stay away, there’s nothing she can do to help her. In her final moments, Nuying was delirious with fever and called out for Ming-Hua. Meifeng didn’t have the heart to remind her that her daughter left so instead let her hair down, covered her own hand in water and told Nuying that she was “right here, mom. I’m right here” and stayed like that until Nuying passed

When Ming-Hua returned, Meifeng was the one to break the news to her. Later, when Ming-Hua asked how and when it happened, she couldn’t quite stop herself from snapping at her because she should have been there, Meifeng shouldn’t have had to pretend to be her so her mother could die without worrying about where her daughter was. Their relationship never really fully recovered after that fight

Still, she had met Suiren when she was little on the rare occasions when the Red Lotus passed through the Swamp and Ming-Hua chose to take her daughter to visit the tribe. She never met Midori, but she did see Ming-Hua pregnant with her once

Didn’t know about Ming-Hua’s imprisonment until an 11-year-old Suiren told her because world news don’t reach into the heart of the Swamp. She just thought they had decided to stop visiting. The news crushed her but… a part of her couldn’t help but go “you should have fucking listened to me when I told you to stay, then this wouldn’t have happened”

Her teaching Suiren waterbending involved mostly the basics of combat (she herself doesn’t know much of it since she’s a healer), plantbending and healing. Suiren reached her level of mastery and proficiency as well as figured out icebending on her own through sheer determination and spite (she’s so much like her mama 🥹🥹🥹)

Is the only one from the tribe Suiren had ever confessed to about being an assassin. That knowledge broke her heart and she spent all those years absolutely terrified that Suiren would meet Ming-Hua’s fate. When Suiren stopped visiting at one point (when she left for her mission to kill Kuvira, got injured, recovered at ATI, reunited with her parents, broke Kuvira out and started living with her, etc etc) she had assumed that it really did happen, until Suiren randomly showed up one day with Kuvira in tow (Meifeng did not approve bc of the whole spirit vine thing 😅)

Absolutely reunited with Ming-Hua at some point and it was an extremely emotional moment

Ripped Cadeo a new one when he suddenly appeared looking for his daughter after 45+ years after it became common knowledge that the RL are all alive and no longer wanted by the law

All in all… quite an interesting character that I really should do something with at some point, bc how come Ming-Hua’s family is the only one to get 0 attention in our discussions?? #justiceformeifeng2024

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, omegaverse/hybrid au, size difference, pet-play, predator x prey, collaring, drugging

fem reader

Thinking about a human collector who decides he wants a new pet to add to his collection...

The air of the animal shelter is polluted by whimpers, howls, and growling as he parades past all sorts of rareties locked up in their cages – all for him to pick and choose from. 

The warden is telling him about the new swan hybrid they wrangled a week ago, wings like an angel with the grace of royalty, a true prize jewel of any collection. 

He thinks it sounds promising before strolling past you.

Placed in one of the smaller cages on the floor, seemingly tucked away so as not to catch anyone’s attention. 

You’re a sorry sight to behold – all starved and shaking – the collar around your throat too heavy for you to lift your head, having to look up at him through your lashes as he crouches down in front of you.

Your eyes are wide like two moons as he sticks a finger in through the bars.

It’s thick like a carrot, and for a moment, you seem like you’re about to scurry away into the very back of your cage – but instead, you inch closer, sniffing at the digit before suddenly snapping at him.

He backs away with a hiss, drawing the warden's attention – who rushes back and knocks his cain against the cage with a growl in his throat, “Stupid critter.” 

You’ve narrowed your eyes, nose wrinkled in anger – something akin to a snarl forming your lips. It’s a funny expression to see on such a normally docile breed.

“I’m really sorry, sir. Bunnies aren't usually aggressive, but we’ve had issues disciplining this one for weeks.” The warden rushes out the apologetic excuse, expecting to be sued.

But the collector only chuckles – a deep sound that makes your soft fur stiffen. “That’s fine.” 

He pulls a handkerchief from his back pocket, all movements calm and collected as he wipes the spill of blood trickling from the small bite mark you’d left on his finger.

“It’s only a nibble, after all.” 

You spit the bitter taste left in your tongue out on his shoes with another sneer.

If it angers him, it still doesn’t show through the lofty smile he wears. His leer is just as poised and heavy as he looks down at you.

“Does she talk?”

The warden had turned to lead him towards the more desirable and tamed section but halted at the question.

He had a puzzled look on his face before he answered, almost in a question himself, “We don’t know.”

The collector scoffed out another small laugh, then pulled out his phone. “How much?”

The warden seemed appalled then. “Sir, we have exotic pets more up to your standard in the back. Are you sure-”

“I want this one.”

The warden looked snuffed at his firm tone. But straightened himself out after a moment. All business as usual. “We can’t guarantee she’ll behave. It could be dangerous-”

But he’s cut off yet again, this time with another rumbling chuckle.

“That won’t be an issue.”

And those dark eyes with that deeply dominating look within them were the last thing you remember seeing before becoming a sleepy heap on the floor of your cage – drooling with a blank stare as you’re carried to the trunk and driven off with.

The tranquilizer makes you fall asleep, waking to heat swallowing you as you’re lowered into a bathtub.

“Let’s get you groomed first.” The same man murmurs in a coo. Petting your head with a heavy hand when seeing your weary eyes try blinking off the sleep – but still left too drowsy to thrash.

Instead, you can just moan as he washes you with a tender smile on his face – his big hands coarse against your creamy skin, rubbing your plush limbs with soap and oil.

“My pets have been an awful handful lately…”

He’s talking about something, but you only catch bits and pieces of the words being said. Something about ruts and scratched furniture – someone’s been pissing in the sofa, and all the pillows are ruined.

He messages the lops of your ears, then rinses them gently.

“But it’s my fault. I’ve been neglectful.”

He cups your tits next, lathering them with the warm milky water, circling your nipples with the gritty pads of his thumbs until they perk.  

Then he delves under the water to find your puffy cunt, letting the hot water rush the sensitivity, making it swell with heat as he splits the lips and pets your clit. 

You buck your hips, and he awes with a light chuckle, crooning down at you. “It's okay, little bunny.”

His carrot-sized finger teases your hole before sinking inside you, filling you in slow and tentative pumps. Sitting next to the tub, just as composed as before, while your cunt squeezes his knuckles.

He hums, watching your body fight the tranquilizer as you seize up and ripple with release.

He retracts his hand, patting them both on the fluffy towel placed next to him. A content smile on his face. “You’re gonna do perfect.”

After he’s finished drying you, he fixes a collar around your throat and carries you out to the others.

“Gather ‘round, pets.” He announces, placing you down on the soft carpeted floors beneath.

Your limbs are still heavy, too weak to stand just yet. But that all changes with the adrenaline kick.

“Come say hi to your new rut-puppet.”

The stench in the air coats your skin with sweat.

“She’s a fragile thing, though, so make sure to play nice.”

Your big eyes skitter around. 

On your left, there’s a wolf, fox, and hyena who all lick their teeth at the sight of you.

Next to them lies a bear that wakens from his slumber. He licks his snout with a huff.

Drool drips from the hang in their lips as they start panting. 

And they aren't the only ones.

On your right, there’s a panther and leopard whose eyes all blackout into nothing but a deep pool of darkness.

Their tails slowly meander behind them as they arise from their beds to stalk you.

You whimper, backing up until your back hits the legs of your new owner.

You lift your head to look up at him, only to see him smiling down at you.

“Don’t be shy now. The smell of fear only makes them wilder.”

part 2

[the-thing-inside-your-closet]

Danny and Ellie are forced to flee Amity Park. And find themselves in Coast City.

I started writing this with the intention of only writing a short prompt, but then I just kept going until I felt like I’d written enough.

Danny gets caught up in yet another fight with Skulker, only this time it wasn’t because Skulker had come for Danny. No. He’d come for Ellie. And she was already weak from fleeing the GIW who had shot at her the moment she arrived in Amity Park.

Whether Skulker is after Ellie for Vlad, or because he wants her pelt can be up to you.

Either way, he manages to beat Skulker and captures him in the thermos. Just as he lets out a long sigh of relief he hears the sound of an ecto-gun being fired and then his side is burning and he’s falling. He’s falling too fast and it hurts and he can’t stop-

Danny guys the ground hard. His head is spinning, his skin feels like it’s burning, and he can hear the stomping of feet as someone runs towards him.

He needs to get up. He needs to get away. Find Ellie and make sure she’s safe. He’s needs to MOVE- but he can’t. Black spots for his vision as he manages to stand up and his eyes meet the end of his mother’s gun.

Before anyone can speak, he’s falling again, handing face first in the dirt. And the familiar feeling of de-transforming washes over him.

The last thing he hears before loosing consciousness is the grief stricken sound of his parent’s voice as three voices shout in unison.

“OH MY GOD DANNY!”

“DANNY ARE YOU OKAY?!”

“NO, GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

When Danny wakes up again, he’s in his room, the curtains are drawn but he can see the sliver of sunlight pouring in through the gap underneath. He notes that his body aches, but not as much as usual after a fight like that. And there’s a warmth enveloping his hand. It’s soothing, and he almost considers going back to sleep when he notices that there’s a ghost in the room. And all too fast he’s sitting up and staring into the exhausted, red, puffy eyes of his mother looking back at him from where she’s sitting holding his hand in hers.

Just behind her he sees Ellie floating just above the ground talking quietly with his dad.

“Danny,” his mother’s voice draws his attention along with Jack and Ellie’s. “How are you feeling, sweetheart? Are you in any pain?”

He didn’t notice when she’d helped him to lay back down again. “Do you need anything? Ellie here was just telling us about how regular pain medication doesn’t work as well for the two of you. But I’m sure we could find something for you that might-”

“Mom,” Danny rasps. Man his throat was dry.

As if reading him mind Ellie appears by his mother’s side holding out a glass of water with a straw in it. Maddie helps Danny to sit up a little more so he can drink.

“Mom,” he tries again, sounding better this time, “I’m okay. I promise. It’s not that bad!” He starts to lie as the panic sets in. He de-transformed in front of them. He knows he did. And the fear shows on his face, it must, because before he can even begin trying to think up an excuse his mother is crying.

“Oh Danny, it’s okay. We know. And we’re not angry at you. We love you. So much.”

And Danny’s heart swells at hearing it. “You don’t hate me for being Phantom?” He asks quietly.

“No! We could never hate you Dann-o!” His dad’s cheery tone doesn’t disguise the sadness and guilt etched into his face. “We’re just…so sorry that we never noticed before. And that we…” he can’t finish his sentence but he doesn’t need to. Danny already knows what he’s apologise for.

“I’m okay. I promise. I heal fast!” Danny tied to reassure them.

It seems to help a little, though his parents still have a grim look in their eyes. As they make connections in just how Danny would know that about himself.

And Ellie, with perfect timing to cut the tension, announces happily, “Danny! Good news! Your parents said I could stay with you!”

Ellie had told his parents while Danny was unconscious about being his clone. She saw how they fretted over Danny, cleaning and dressing his injuries with the love and care she only imagined from a parent that truly loves you. And they had accepted her almost right away. Jack even crying as he proudly declared himself a father of three.

Jack soon excused himself, saying he’ll go see if Jazz needs any help with cooking lunch. Danny and his mother share a look, and with a final kiss to his head says she’ll go make sure nothing gets brought back to life. And she asks Ellie to please make sure Danny stays in bed and rests.

Danny and Ellie are left alone in his room, and it gives Danny the chance to really revel in everything. His parents accept him. They love him, both sides of him. And they accepted Ellie too! And said she can stay! She doesn’t have to be alone anymore.

Now, a lot can happen in the span of a few seconds, let alone minutes. In the time it took for Maddie to reach the kitchen, their front door was kicked down and a group of GIW agents had stormed in demanding they hand over the ectoplasmic scum they were harbouring.

Jack and Maddie drew their weapons and planted themselves directly in front of the GIW agents. The agents state that a ghost shield was put up around the house to prevent any ghosts from escaping, and by law any ghosts within the premises were ti be handed over for destruction immediately. Jazz runs upstairs to Danny’s room to warn them that the GIW were inside the house and that they needed to run. They need to get to the portal NOW.

With all the authority of an older sister Jazz tells Ellie to grab the go bag Danny had insisted on having prepared, and picks Danny up despite his protests that he could walk. Or well, fly. Ellie turns them all invisible and intangible and takes them down to the lab.

They can hear the sound of shouting, and something breaking and a gun being fired all coming from upstairs as Jazz opens the portal for Danny and Ellie.

Another shot rings out. And then another, and more shouting.

“Quickly you two need to go!”

Another shot.

“Aren’t you coming with us?” Danny, now Phantom, asks suddenly as he and Ellie are preparing to enter the Ghost Zone.

Two more shots.

“Someone needs to be here to deactivate the portal in case the guys in white make it down here. I’ll be fine. Mom and dad will be okay, they’re not here for us so you two need to go. Now!” There’s banging on the lab’s door and Jazz shoves both Danny and Ellie into the portal. The last thing Danny hears before the portal closes behind them is another shot being fired.

Danny is scared and angry as he and Ellie are forced to fly through the zone with no currently known way to get back to his family. He needs to make sure they’re okay. He needs to protect them.

But right now Danny is still hurt, and he needs to get himself and Ellie somewhere safe. They begin to slowly make their way through the zone, looking for somewhere to rest and avoiding any ghosts that might want to pick a fight.

Ellie isn’t sure how long she and Danny have been moving for. It feels like it could have been days, or hours, or even minutes. But Danny can’t fly as quickly right now. He’s trying to keep a brave face for Ellie’s sake but she can see the exhaustion beginning to take hold of him.

So Ellie makes the executive decision to touch down somewhere to rest. She tells Danny she’s tired. Danny knows she isn’t and it’s only because she’s worried and wants him to rest. So he goes along with it and they make their way to the next floating island they come across and thank the ancients it’s empty. The two halfas touch down and Danny slumps over as he sits against a nearby rock. Ellie pulls out some energy bars that were tucked away in the go bag and hands one over to Danny.

They do this a few times, stopping to rest, as they gradually make their way to the Far Frozen. Ellie had insisted on going there, Frostbite would know what to do, and he would be able to help Danny with his injuries that had started bleeding again in all the commotion of escaping, and then flying and hiding from ghosts known to attack Danny regularly.

But unfortunately luck is not on their side yet again as a natural portal rips open directly in front of them, and closes behind them after spitting them out in a city they didn’t recognise.

That’s how Danny and Ellie find themselves in Coast City, hiding out in an old warehouse by the docs while Danny heals and they figure out how they’re going to get back home.

That is, until now.

Danny stares up at his little sister and sighs with the resigned tone of an exasperated older sibling.

“Ellie,” he takes a breath, “what did you do?”

“I’m my defence,” Ellie glares up at Green Lantern, who has Ellie scruffed by the back of her hoodie, before looking back at Danny, “I simply do not vibe with the law.”

[boyfhee]

박성훈 、SECRET NEVER KEPT

sunghoon likes getting detentions.

featuring ⋆ rich boy! sunghoon x fem reader, highschool au

contents ⋆ kissing, suggestive i mean you can say this went out of hand a little...sunghoon is crazy guys don't try this at school ( 0.78k )

notes ⋆ another rich boy hoon bc it's always on my mind. they should cast him in a drama and make him third gen chaebol heir idk. btw this one is for @atrirose

sunghoon’s lips curl into a subtle smile when he heard footsteps coming towards the classroom. he knows it’s you, he knows your pace, way too familiar with you to not even recognise the faint humming echoing in the hallways.

he chuckles, his smile growing wider as he pushes one of the desks aside. he shakes his head at how easily you make him smile, and you aren’t even in the room. the melody you’re humming gets a bit clearer, and he turns towards the door as you slide it open.

“detention again?” you tease, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. it’s unfathomable how giddy he looks after getting detention. “it’s pleasing to watch the mayor’s son sweeping the tiles,”

“just a little charity work for school,” he hums jokingly with a shrug, and then he looks up at you, his eyes are soft and just a tad bit crinkled at the edges and his smile is sweet as if an invitation to come and kiss him. 

not a whiff of what happens at school reaches his parents because he knows his dad will have anyone who dares point fingers at him lose their job. while his mother is more inclined towards him trying to lay low and mixing into the general public, sunghoon can’t help but stand out. 

he likes attention.

he likes it when people talk about him when he walks down the hallways, or when you wink at him from across the room. he liked it when you visited him when he had gotten detention for the very first time, and it’s a routine now. you stay after school for extra lessons and he hates not being able to sneak in a few kisses with you in the storage after school ends. fortunately, detention gives him the perfect excuse to stay.

“charity is nice but this—” you say, pointing at the mop and bucket, walking towards him as he carefully holds your hand so that you don’t slip over the wet tiles. “— doesn’t suit your pretty face.”

and sunghoon laughs, sitting on one of the chairs around, pulling you on his lap. your arms wrap around his shoulders out of habit, and he can’t help but swoon at the way your gaze rests on his lips for a fraction of a second before going back to his eyes. “well you win some and you lose some,” 

and he doesn’t really care, honestly. with hands that are made to caress your cheeks and hold you close, he doesn’t really mind if they’re occupied with mopping the floors. just the same way he doesn’t care if his father hears about you and him. with elections ‘round the corner, he will be furious to see his dear son dating the daughter of the opposition. 

but when has sunghoon ever cared about what others have to say about you?

“you know, anyone could walk in right now,” you warn quietly, although your actions are contradicting your words as you tilt your head a little, giving him an easier access as he presses his lips against your neck, leaving a trail of slow kisses down and then to your jaw.

he pulls away slightly, taking in the fragrance of your perfume— it’s the one he had gifted you on your birthday, and he likes how irresistible it makes you, as if you aren’t already. “the whole building’s empty,”

“the guards take rounds after school,”

“well, no one will come. and if they do,” he gently tucks your hair behind your ear, fingers drawing random patterns on your thighs, and you can feel your cheeks heat up as he slides his hand a bit further up. “we can put on a little show for them,”

“hoon—” he doesn’t let you say much, simply cutting you off with a kiss. most of the time, it doesn’t fall upon him to be the responsible one in the relationship, but you’re not any better with the way you pull him closer, fingers lost in his locks. you huff and his arms move up to your waist, and you pull him closer, kissing him deeper— a clear confirmation that you’re into this just as much as him.

and it does end up this way, most of the time. you on his lap, his arms around your waist and yours around his neck, lips together, in the empty classrooms or storage, under the staircase— sunghoon doesn’t care if someone sees. it’s least of his concerns when you’re with him. sunghoon falls first, he falls hard. everyone knows it, it has never been a secret. 

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

“You did what?” HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN questions in amused disbelief, picking himself up off the bed a centimeter when his abdomen flexed from his powerful scoff.

Nestled into his side, a thick arm wound around you, you’re playfully incredulous when you animate inquiring gestures at him, frowning over his obvious skepticism. “Why would I lie about that?”

“No, baby, it’s not that you would lie, I just-“ He squeezes you tighter, and jostles you gently. Once he glances at your pout, he softens his delivery, “I’m saying, it’s hard to wrap my head around. I never thought that a fan could… you know,” he trails off, gesticulating vaguely to finish his sentence by drawing attention to your naked and tangled bodies underneath the covers.

You squeak a noise of offense, sitting up and out of his embrace clutching the sheets to your bare chest. He doesn’t deserve to see them right now. “Oh, my god.” you exclaim, and when you swing your legs out to land your feet on the cold floor, you draw the sheet with you.

“Now wait, c’mon, I didn’t mean that. Come back, you’re taking the warm with you.” he scrambles to find an excuse to keep you close, but you’re already walking away as he’s reaching for you.

“I’m going to find the picture. I know I have it somewhere.” you insist, more to yourself than him as he settles back into bed. The way your hips sway catch the thin material between your ass, and he rolls his tongue between his lips as he watches. You bend down over a box next to your bedroom desk, sifting through its contents hastily until you move onto the next one. Hayden adjusts in his seat, picking at his halfie that’s perking up at the memory of what you look like under that sheet, underneath him. “Ugh, it was right here!”

“If you don’t have it, sweetheart, don’t worry, I believe you. Come back to bed,” he coaxes, eyes hooded as he keeps them glued to you. You reach behind you, wagging a shaming finger at him to which he chuckles at.

“No, no. I’ll find it.” you scold him for his attempts to derail you from your quest, striding to the other side to check a drawer. “Ah-ha!” you interject victoriously, smug in your success as you flick the photo out of its place.

“Is that it?” he asks, craning his neck to see past you, but he sounds nonchalant, as if he’s still skeptical of your claim.

“You are gonna eat those fuckin’ words, baby,” you muse as you march right back to him, the paper flipping in air from your rush. “Take a look at this.”

You shove the photo into his view, and gingerly he takes it, his thumb at the very edge of the white line so as to not soil the quality with his fingerprints. Quietly, he observes it through the bottoms of his eyes, tipping his head back, demonstrating his aging sight as he takes a gander at it much like an old man might. Uneasily, you glance between them. “Oh.” he finally says with knowing. “You changed your hair.” he notes, tilting his head at the picture of you and him. Years ago, you’d gone to a con with the sole purpose of meeting Hayden to take a photo with him. The day you bought that photo op ticket was one of your happiest, replaced as soon as you first laid eyes on him in that booth.

“See? You believe me now.” you tell him cockily, popping your hip out.

“I remember you.” he muses in a tune, scratching at the scruff off his cheek with a pensive parted smile. “You had the cutest little ass—“

Promptly, you go to pluck the picture from his grasp. “Okay, that’s enough.” but he’s much too quick for you, jerking it away to continue ogling it.

Keeping it from you, his voice raises in volume and glee as you continue to fail to retrieve it from him. “No, no, it’s coming back to me. You tripped on the way in. Sweet little thing. Couldn’t even say anything to me, you were so nervous. Held eye contact like a champ though,”

You reach fully over him, stretching out over his lap as you struggle to grab it from him. “Hayden! Give it back!”

“Your little hand was shaking when you offered it to me. Asking for that pose. Still the same naughty girl.”

[manheimsmuse]

bejewelled ; spencer reid

what’s a girl gonna do? a diamonds gotta shine!

a/n: very mildly self indulgent, i imagine this set around season one or two-ish just ‘cause the vibe of early criminal minds season will never be matched.

warnings: spencer reid x afab!bau!reader, established, secret romantic relationship, body piercings ( bellybutton ), teasing ( derek and spencer being, well, derek and spencer )

recently these late nights in the office had become more and more frequent. the team all sat in the bullpen in comfortable silence, only broken periodically when someone offered coffee from the kitchenettes unreliable coffee machine.

you rose to your feet slowly, body aching from being sat at your desk for so long. you tilt your head side to side, humming softly at the relief in your neck and shoulders before clasping your hands together and stretching them above your head.

a grave mistake.

“what is this!” elle squealed, all but launching herself across her desk then the hem of your shirt rises to expose the sparkling jewel dangling from your navel “a piercing? how edgy.”

elle’s tone is teasing as one hand shifts the hem of your shirt up just enough for her to examine the star shaped diamond with the other.

you’re too tired to swat her away, and in all honesty you welcome the distraction from the heavy workload, even if it’s drawing unwanted attention from the rest of your team.

a low wolf whistle is sent in your direction from the one derek morgan as he peers over elle’s shoulder to get a look at the jewellery, as does jj, and, naturally, penelope.

“hey, pretty boy, you know about this?” derek taunts, glancing over his shoulder at spencer, still knee deep in paperwork and ignoring the commotion surrounding your navel.

the entire team, especially derek, loved to poke fun at spencer for his little crush on you. teasing him relentlessly for not asking you on a date, for how he occasionally stumbled over his words when you sat next to him on the jet.

a bellybutton piercing, by their assumption, should’ve sent the poor kid genius into orbit.

but spencer knew already.

the two of you had been a bit of an item for a little over six months, keeping the new relationship hidden from your team for no other reason than pettiness. it was nice having something that just belonged to you two.

“yeah, i know.”

spencers mumbled response catches even you off guard, and it doesn’t even seem to register with him what came out of his mouth as he cards his hand through his hair.

“i — excuse me, what!?” penelope squeaks, heels clicking as she shuffles her way over to spencers desk and snaps his file closed “nuh uh, open your ears mister!” she scolds, tapping his forehead with the fluffy pompom on the end of her pen.

spencers laugh, your favourite sound, reaches your ears as he finally lets you catch his gaze. his eyes quickly flick up and down your body, a speedy skill he’d been perfecting since you first got together to catch a glimpse at you without anyone else noticing.

“i knew.” spencer reinforces with a nod “she caught it in her sweater last week and took it out on me”

a half truth, it was his sweater, in his apartment, but his answer seems to be enough to satisfy elle who releases her grip on your shirt.

you watch as spencer gets to his feet and, much like you, began stretching. only, to your horror, when he craned his head to the side the collar of his button up no longer shielded the dark purple bruise on his neck.

your drunken handiwork.

“now wait a damn minute..” derek began, eyes drifting from reids neck to you “now i know y’all nasty kids aren’t doing what i’m thinking.”

“no idea what you mean,” you mumble hurriedly, burying your face back in your paperwork and ignoring the giggles and prodding coming from jj and elle at either side of you.

[uhohdad]

(18+) ♡König♡ Voiceline Inspired Drabbles

“Who else is with you?”

Jealous!König Shows Ghost Who Reader Belongs To

WARNING: ABUSIVE & NON-CONSENSUAL THEMES

“I can hear them with you, don’t even think about lying.”

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

Your response was meant to sound nonchalant, but it comes out wavered and squeaky. Shaking fingers fidget with the hem of your shirt.

“Who is it?” König demands, but you both know he already knows the answer.

“It’s- it’s just the guys,” You mumble into your phone, shoulders braced and lips pulled back in unease.

“Of course it is. Is Simon there?”

“Who ya talking to, bonnie?” Soap asks, and you give him a panicked push on his chest in an effort to shut him up.

“Come home, right now.”

König’s tone leaves no room for argument. Grit and threatening, it sends a chill down your spine and raises the hairs on your neck.

Your lips part to speak, stammering through your sentence.

“I- I’m not driving, I cant-”

“You have twenty minutes.”

The line cuts off, the phone shaking in your rattling hands as you pull it in front of your face, staring at it with wide eyes.

“Simon,” You utter, “You have to take me home, now, please.”

The car goes silent, the light atmosphere sucked from the car the moment your frantic words cuts through.

“What’s wrong?”

“I- nothing,” You say, eyes darting to the side, “Just-”

You cut yourself off, debating whether or not you should tell the truth, scrambling for an excuse, but your mind draws a blank.

“You have to take me home.”

“Lover boy?” Simon asks.

Your silence confirms his suspicion. You wince, knowing this is being filed in his ever-growing ‘Reasons to Hate König’ folder.

“Simon, please,” Your plead is made of only breath, fingers fidgeting beyond control.

Simon says nothing, the car suffocatingly silent. He continues driving, not so much as activating his turn-signal.

Your voice picks up vigor, the desperation palpable, “Simon- Simon, please. Take me home.”

“No.”

The car sucks in a collective breath, only the hum of the engine filling the taut, awkward air choking you all.

“Simon,” You whine, your eyes pinch shut and your hand rests on your collarbones, “Please.”

Soap raises a brow, lost, “What’s wrong?”

“Lover boy doesn’t like it when our dove has a good time,” Simon answers gruffly.

You unclip your seatbelt, sticking your head in between the two front seats.

“Simon, you have to take me home, now, please.”

He says nothing, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Simon!”

Without thinking, your trembling hand darts out to grab the steering wheel.

“Sit back!” Simon demands, the car swerving in its lane as he bats your hand away.

The sudden harshness in his voice makes you flinch, eyes wide and your hand retracting to your chest. It is not a request between friendly co-workers after hours, it is an order from your Lieutenant.

“Now,” He says, glaring you down in the rearview mirror.

At once you shrink in on yourself, shoulders slouching and eyes fixated on your shoes as you sit back in your seat.

The burn of Soap’s stare is searing, he’s looking for an explanation, but you can’t meet his eyes, too busy swallowing the shame of Ghost’s scolding and the fear of your boyfriend’s fury. Your stomach is twisted in knots, breaths shallow and knee bouncing to expel the nervous energy.

When Simon pulls into the pub’s parking lot, you whip your phone from your pocket as you scramble to order a ride, but Simon snatches your phone from your hands and ignores your objections.

“Simon, please! You don’t know what you’re doing!”

“I’ll handle it,” Simon grits without looking over his shoulder.

He gives you a look piercing enough to make your knees knock together. You swallow, unable to find the strength to argue.

After a few drinks, the energy of the group has relaxed, but you’re still fidgeting, darting your eyes around and trying to keep the beer in your stomach instead of throwing it up from pure nerves.

You freeze when you see him yank open the pub’s door, hard enough he nearly rips it off the hinges. Your heart stops, your mouth parts, wide eyes locked onto him. He scans the pub for a moment before he finds you, wearing those scary, half-lidded, dangerous eyes that bore into you. From across the pub, his stare makes your stomach twist, and you have to stifle the urge to claw your way free from the booth and flee from predator eyes.

König crosses his arms over his chest, and tilts his head at you. An impatient finger taps his opposing bicep. Even from the other side of the noisy room, his message is clear.

‘I’m waiting.’

You swallow and look to the sticky tabletop, both your knees and your voice trembling when you speak.

“I gotta, I gotta run to the bathroom,” you mumble to no one in particular, shimmying awkwardly from the booth.

“König,” You start once in range, “I can explain, please, just let me-”

You cut yourself off with a gasp when he snatches you by the wrist with a crushing grip, forcing you to stumble over your own feet as you’re dragged out of the bar and along the sidewalk.

“König, please- I tried, I swear I tried, Simon just-”

König’s other hand grabs you by the waist with enough strength that bruises are surely to bloom at his fingertips. He ignores your writhing and winces of pain when he pushes you up against the pub’s dingy alleyway, blocking you in with his massive frame. His voice is hissed, his eyes devoid of any emotion other than rage.

“I don’t ever want to hear his name again. You understand me, little one?”

You choke, sputtering and stammering out syllables that will never get flushed out into sentences as his eyes narrow at you. Your body curls in on itself as he towers menacingly over you, his size alone more than enough of a threat to keep you compliant.

You nod, shaky but quick.

“Say it,” He growls.

“I understand,” You answer, just a squeak with words warbled in.

“Good,” He says, but you can tell by his tone he’s still not appeased.

A hardened hand snatches your wrists, pinning them to brick. Another yanks at the waistband of your jeans, ignoring your objections and your squirming legs.

“König, no! Here?” You whisper frantically, head whipping around to search for watchful eyes.

“You had the opportunity to come home. And you chose not to.”

He leaves no room for argument, a boot coming up to step on the pants bunched at your mid thigh, forcing them entirely to the ground when he plants his sole back on the concrete. You obey when he nudges you to suggest you free your ankle, and he wastes no time taking his cock from his pants.

You whimper when he presses himself to your panties, nestling between your lips with a grind.

He laughs, low and sinful in your ear.

“Already fucking wet, schlampe?”

A raspy grunt leaves him as he ruts his swollen cock against your panties.

“Just a little hure, whoring herself out for every man who pays you attention.”

You shiver at the vibration of his words against your chest, the tickle of his breath on your ear.

“Guess I’ll just have to remind you who you belong to.”

With your wrists pinned to the brick above your head, his other hand snatches your jaw with a tight grip. He forces your head to the side, sinking his teeth into the sensitive, exposed flesh of your neck. You can’t help the strangled cry that leaves you, and the hand on your jaw quickly covers your mouth, muffling your wails with his calloused palms as he leaves imprints of his bites on your skin.

He laughs into your slobbered skin, kissing over the tender indents in your flesh.

“Don’t worry little one,” He coos in a sickly sweet voice, “It’ll be over soon.”

Your whimper is stifled by his hand, but he gives your voice back when he reaches down to yank your soaked panties to the side.

“But you still need to learn your lesson, ja?”

He lets out a groan when the tip of his enraged cock swipes along your slick cunt.

“König, please,” You whine on a shaky exhale.

“Sh, sh, sh.”

König grinds between your lips, coating himself in your arousal before lining himself up. He is by no means patient, bullying half of his cock inside of you on his first thrust. Your head lulls forward, sniveling in his hold as your cunt stretches around his greedy cock.

He grunts through clenched teeth, pulling himself from you only to thrust mercilessly back in.

“Take this cock like a good girl,” He grits.

He finds a steady pace, hardly letting you adjust to his size before he’s fucking more of himself into you, your arousal soaking his throbbing cock.

“You want to act like a hure, hm?”

He leans in, letting go of your wrists to pick you up by your thighs, and gives you a stint of particularly brutal thrusts, your tits bouncing degradingly against your ribcage as he fucks you further into the bricks.

He snarls at you.

“Then I’ll treat you like a fucking hure.”

With your hands free, you’re clawing at him, trying to expel the overwhelming sensation of him robbing you of your tight, sensitive cunt. White knuckling his shirt and digging into his chest with your finger nails, pathetic whimpers leaving your lips.

“See? You can barely handle me, hure. You don’t need anyone else.”

You suck in a sharp breath when you hear bootsteps echoing at the end of the alleyway.

Sprung eyes lock with Simon, standing still in his spot, watching you get pounded against the wall.

König laughs, low and truly gut-wrenching. He doesn’t even have to look to know Simon’s there. As soon as he’s aware of his presence König doubles the pace of his thrusts, forcing his entire cock into you and filling you to the brim with each bottom out. His brute cock, his mound slapping against your clit, it turns your moans choppy and unrestrained as you succumb to the pleasure, the pain, the humiliation of knowing your Leuitenant has a front row seat to your punishment, watching König demean you and have his way with you.

You’ve gone entirely limp in his hold, intoxicated and cockdrunk, only able to focus on his ruthless cock ravaging your dripping cunt, the feeling of being stretched and filled, the burning eyes of Simon at the end of the alley.

“Alles meins,” He growls strictly, “Got it? All mine.”

You nod, stuttered moans pouring from your lips without thought. His grip on the back of your thighs tighten painfully in threat.

“Say it.”

“A-All yours!” You cry, lulling your head against the brick in defeat.

The pleasure is building in your lower abdomen, an electric and exponential euphoria taking control of your body, every muscle tensed and shaking.

“Tell your Lieutenant who you belong to.”

You twitch in his hold as he pushes you over the edge, not letting up in the slightest, cruelly abusing your g-spot as he works out every last wave of your overwhelming finish.

“König!”

♡ Jealous!König Makes A Bet With Reader ♡

♡ König Drabble Masterlist ♡

Dividers by the lovely @strangergraphics

[luxaofhesperides]

Accidental Bride Sacrifice ; requested by @starlightcat04!

Danny has long since gotten used to the feel of summonings. They don’t happen often, but sometimes the right components are put together to force him into answering, and he’d have to go as the new Ghost King.

Which no one told him was a thing! He hadn’t protested too much about the whole Ghost King deal when they finally told him about it after he graduated high school. It gave him a good excuse to ditch life in the living realm and not worry about college or a career, and let him really embrace his ghost side. 

The summonings are a problem, though. They always feel staticky and bad, like a dumpster that just got struck by lightning. The taste of iron on his tongue, a clear sign of blood being spilled, lets him know that it would be one of end the world for us summonings, because some people can’t put in the effort to do it themselves, apparently. 

But this time, the summoning feels different.

Danny pauses, eyes going unfocused in the middle of his conversation with Jazz. He had been looking forward to spending the week with her, now that she’s on winter break, but his luck is as bad as always.

“I’m being summoned,” he tells her, cutting off her rant about a transphobic professor she had. 

“Oh, no. Do you need me to do anything? Should I go with you to beat up whoever it is that’s summoning you?”

Danny tilts his head to the side, considering. The taste of blood is noticeably absent. In fact, this summoning pull doesn’t make him feel sick at all. It makes him feel warm, as if he’s just been wrapped in a hug.

“No,” he says. “I think I’m good. This one feels different.”

“A good different?” Jazz asks, worry clear in her voice.

“Yeah. A good different. I’ll come back soon, okay?”

“Alright. Be careful, Danny.” Jazz pulls him into a quick hug, then steps back to watch as Danny stops fighting the pull of the summoning and disappears into a swirling white rings that flashes into existence behind him, blinding her for a moment, and is gone when she manages to blink the spots out of her vision. 

For a minute, Danny drifts in a void of stillness, traveling through the realms as the summoning draws him closer to the correct realm. And then he’s rising out of the ground in a dark building made of concrete, candles of green flame scattered all over the place.

“Great One!” someone in a hooded cloak cries, raising his arms in jubilation. “Our calls have been answered!”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” a mechanical voice yells from farther back. When Danny looks past the cultists’ heads, he spots a man in a red hood and leather jacket chained to a pole, along with a bunch of other people in strange costumes tied up, desperately trying to free themselves. 

“Silence!” The leader of the cult, or who Danny assumes is the leader, snaps at the hooded man and gestures to the people off to his left. They force another costumed person forward, this one in yellow armor. He can see the blood running down their face from beneath their helmet and from their nose, dark lines of blood cutting through their brown skin. 

The cultists throw the armored person forward, forcing them to kneel. Then they bow to Danny and step back.

“Great One,” the leader says, voice unpleasantly reverent and grating, “Welcome to the mortal realms. We offer you this sacrifice to feed your strength. He will make a fine general for your undead army in your crusade to rid this world of its filth.”

The people in the back begin shouting all together, panicked voices overlapping, and Danny is left staring down at the cultists in shock.

The summoning had felt so nice. What the hell was this? He did not sign up for another ‘end of days’ insane cult. He just wanted to be hugged. 

His silence makes the cultists nervous. They begin to shift uneasily, whispering to each other, and the leader clears his throat, then pulls a large crystal dagger out of his cloak. “We shall prove our devotion to you through an offering of a hero’s blood!”

And then he moves towards the sacrifice and Danny snaps out of his shock to yell, “Wait!”

The entire room freezes. Even the costumed people in the back go still. 

Danny winces, then tries to smother his power, make himself more palatable to the humans of this dimension. “Wait,” he says again, and he sounds closer to human now. If he could, he would drop his ghost form entirely, but he knows better than to endanger himself like that. “What, exactly, did you summon me here for?”

The cult leader stares at him for a moment. “To… To rid the world of filth and allow your loyal followers to spread word of your power. You will be worshiped again, Great One, and serve as a reminder to man that Death shall always prevail.”

“Okay, I get that, but I was talking more along the lines of the summoning. What ritual did you use? What specifically were the summoning requirements?”

Normally, he’d be able to figure it out himself, but these cultists didn’t use a summoning circle. So they did something else, something less visible and therefore harder to figure out, in order to bring him here.

A woman standing off to the side speaks up, stepping forward hesitantly. “I had pieced together a few summoning spells from this book to bring you here. You had to accept our chosen sacrifice to your side in order for the summoning to work.”

“Hold up that book for me, please?”

She does, and Danny flies down to grab it from her hands. “Point out which lines you used,” he says, already reading a few of the words written down. It’s definitely ghostspeak written down, which should be near impossible for living humans to translate without being skilled in magic.

“Ah, these ones.” She points to each line, reading them out for him, and Danny starts understand what, exactly, went wrong.

“Is there a problem, Great One?”

Danny returns the book then floats over to the sacrifice and picks him up. The costumed people make alarmed noises, but quietly quiet down again when all Danny does is move him away from the cultists.

“Okay,” he says, “So. The lines you used to summon me were not translated properly. What you interpreted as ‘accepted to stay by the king’s side in loyalty and strength’ is not meant to be, like, him being part of my undead army or whatever. It’s a royal marriage vow.”

“They married us?” the sacrifice shouts, disbelieving. The cult leader buries his face in his hands and sighs.

“My deepest apologies, Great One. We meant no offense. We simply wanted to aid in your destruction of this depraved world.”

Danny scrunches his nose and shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s not gonna fly with me. I do not do the biding of random people, especially those who are ready to murder innocent people for no reason. Frighty, if you would.” He snaps his fingers, calling up Fright Knight who always enjoys getting to torment the people who summon Danny for murderous reasons.

Fright Knight appears in a swirl of darkness and screams. Shadows swallow the room, and when they recede, no cultists remain.

“Thanks, Frighty. Have fun with them. I need to figure out all… this.”

Fright Knight bows to him, then disappears. Danny lets out a breath, then floats down lower to be eye level with the sacrifice. “Hey,” he says gently, with a smile, “I’m so sorry they did this to you. I’m Danny. What’s your name?”

“Du— Uh, Signal,” the sacrifice says, sounding rather dazed. 

“Signal,” Danny repeats. “Like… a traffic signal?”

“No. I mean, maybe? But it is Signal. That’s my hero name, not my real name.”

“Oh, you’re a hero!” His getup makes more sense now. Danny checks him over for any signs of injuries. So far, only his head and nose seem to be injured, but his wrists are tightly bound behind his back. Carefully, Danny calls upon his ice and shapes it into a sharp knife, then cuts through the zipties.

He helps Signal up to his feet, floating by his shoulder. “All good?”

“Yeah, man, all good. Let me just get the others free.”

“Oh, I can do it!” Danny flies over to the other costumed people, who must also be heroes. All it takes is one link in the chain being frozen and broken for the entire thing to go lax, allowing them to free themselves. Hooded guy spares Danny a single glance, then hurries over to Signal to check on him. The other three, a man with a blue bird across his chest, a blond girl with a yellow bat outline on her chest, and a guy with bandoliers and a golden bird emblem, all watch him warily as he floats back towards the center of the room.

“So,” the blue bird man says, “If they summoned you with a marriage vow, and you accepted, does that mean you’re planning to steal Signal away from us?” He’s smiling, but it’s not a nice smile.

“No! I had no idea they did this! I am so sorry you all got caught up in this. You most of all, Signal.”

Signal shrugs, nudging hood guy away from him. “Nah, man, it’s all good. This is definitely the better outcome.”

“I don’t know, being married off isn’t really a good thing.”

“Hey, at least they married me off to a decent guy.”

“You don’t know that,” Danny says, “What if I’m secretly evil?”

“If you were secretly evil, you’d be destroying the world right now. I think you’re fine.”

The blond girl waves at him, demanding his attention. “Quick question! They were calling you ‘Great One’. Are you a god or something?”

“Not really? I’m the Ghost King. So I’m a ghost who rules over other ghosts and also a majority of the Infinite Realms.”

She nods as if this is all totally normal for her, then shoots Signal a grin. “Congrats on bagging a king! Not the worst way to spend a night, right?”

“Can you break the marriage?” blue bird man asks, the lines of his shoulders tense.

Danny awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, not looking any of them in the eye. “I honestly don’t know. I can look for a way! But I genuinely have no clue. This was unexpected.”

“But you accepted.”

“I didn’t know what I expected! It just felt like a hug, and I wanted a hug! I thought I was being summoned for something nice for once!” Danny curls up, bringing his knees up to his chest, and hides his pout behind his hands. He knows he’s being childish, but he can’t help but be upset that he couldn’t have this one good experience from being Ghost King. 

It’s always responsibilities and death cult summonings and fighting ghosts who don’t think he should be king. Sure there have been some good things, but they’re comparatively few when looking at all the other stress and pain that comes with the crown. Sue him for wanting to have a nice night for once. Hell, at this point, he’d take being summoned to help with some kid’s homework, because at least then he could have a quiet night helping someone.

“Hey, man, can you come down here?” Signal asks. 

He wants to stay out of reach, hiding himself away for a bit longer, but Signal is his new, surprise, accidental husband, so Danny lowers himself to the ground and peeks through his fingers to look at him.

He tenses when Signal hugs him, soft and warm and comforting. It takes a moment for him to realize what’s going on, and then he’s melting into Signal’s embrace, dropping his hands to wrap them around Signal’s back.

Distantly, he can hear the other heroes talking quietly amongst themselves. He blocks out the sound as much as he can, determined to enjoy this hug while it lasts.

Which is… fairly long. Signal makes no moves to end the hug, so Danny closes his eyes to really savor the moment. 

“So,” Signal murmurs into his ear, “As newlyweds, how about we get to know each other a bit better before we start working on fixing all this?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Let’s ditch these guys and take some time to ourselves.”

“I promise I’ll get this fixed,” he says, just to make sure Signal knows. “Genuinely, I am so sorry to have married you through an old Realms vow when you had no say in it.”

“Hey, if it lands me a very nice, very attractive king, then I don’t mind at all. I could have done without the murderous cultists, though.”

Danny huffs out a small laugh. “Oh, for sure. Thanks for being so cool about this. Want me to fly us out of here?”

“Yes please,” Signal says. Danny smiles and tightens his grip on Signal, then lifts them both up. “I’ll see y’all later! Have fun with the rest of your patrols!” he calls out to the other heroes, who start shouting at him.

Danny flies them right out the roof before the other heroes figure out a way to kick his ass. The city they’re in is smoggy and dark, tall buildings rising up into the cloudy sky, and police sirens ring through the air. There’s no where that looks like a particularly nice spot to land for a conversation, so he asks Signal where he’d like to go and follows his directions from there.

They end up phasing through a building, then into the floor, which leaves them in what Signal calls The Hatch. 

Danny takes a quick moment to freak out over being in a hero’s secret hide out, the composes himself and finally pulls away from Signal.

“So,” he starts, looking around The Hatch and taking in the giant computer, the workstation, the motorcycle farther down the way, “What did you—Woah!” Danny spins around, slamming a hand over his eyes the instant he realizes that Signal is taking off his helmet, leaving his face bare.

It’s not like he’d know who Signal is anyways, being from a different dimension, but it’s the principle of the matter.

Signal laughs when he sees Danny’s attempt to keep from looking at him. A warm hand wraps around his wrist and gently pulls it away. “It’s okay, Danny, you can look,” he says. “It would be pretty weird if my own husband didn’t know my face.”

Slowly, giving Signal to change his mind, Danny opens his eyes. He moves his gaze up, going from Signal’s armor to his face, his very cute face and his warm brown eyes, and Danny stares for a moment. 

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” Signal says, fondness coloring his voice. “My name’s Duke. Are all Ghost Kings as cute as you?”

“Duke,” Danny repeats. “Hi. Um, no. The last one really sucked, actually, which is why I fought him. He was so bad the Infinite Realms didn’t want him anymore, so though I technically didn’t beat him in single combat, it was enough for the Infinite Realms to kick him out and get me on the throne.”

“Man, I can not wait to hear more of your stories. Think we got time for that while we search for a way to undo that marriage vow?”

Taking his chance, Danny says, “Sure! It’s a date.”

He’s awarded by Duke’s bright smile and idly wonders how long he can keep them married. Hopefully long enough for them to get into a real relationship where he can propose properly. And then he can get Jazz’s blessing too—

“Oh shit,” Danny realizes. 

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I need to tell my sister or she’s going to actually kill me.”

Duke winces. “And I should probably tell the others before Spoiler makes a mess of things… B is not going to be happy with me.”

They share a despairing look, already dreading the amount of scoldings they’re both going to get. He’s not looking forward to it.

“...Put it off until tomorrow?”

Duke nods. “Yeah. That’s a tomorrow problem. For now, how about a late dinner?”

“Sounds perfect.”

. . .

[send me a ghostlights prompt!]

[plussizefantasia]

Don't Cry Over Spilled Lemonade

Anthony Bridgerton x f!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: None that I can think of, this is kinda angsty tho

A/N: Surprise post IG I wrote this in my notes app because I couldn't sleep so if there are spelling or grammar issues I'm sorry. let me know if you want a part two because I wouldn't mind continuing this.

Anthony adored how close you were to his siblings. You had become a close family friend ever since you defended Daphne against some creep at her first-ever ball out in society, it was your second season and you had taken it upon yourself to keep an eye on the diamond, looking out for her quietly in the background.

You weren’t going to intervene at all, just offer her some advice woman to woman if the need arose but when you saw Baron Taylor grab the redhead by the wrist you couldn’t hold back.

Anthony himself was only seconds away from coming to his sister's aid when you ‘accidently’ tripped into the man spilling your glass of lemonade down the front of his vest. 

“Perhaps my Lord if we kept our hands to ourselves certain… interventions might’ve not had to happen. Don’t you think?” When Anthony had seen your raised eyebrow and defensive posture all aimed at the scumbag who dared lay a hand on his baby sister he couldn’t help but fall a little bit in love right then and there. Not that he’d ever admit it to himself or anyone else for that matter.

A day later Daphne had invited you to tea at their family house in order to thank you for the rescue and potentially make a new friend and ally within the marriage mart.

Ever since that day, you’d been a regular in his home, but you were never there for him as much as he’d have liked you to be. No, you were always there for one of his siblings. You were there to talk with Daphne, first about her counting of the duke and then slowly transitioning into how she felt about being a married woman and then a mother. He could also find you sketching in silence next to Benedict, the two of you after attending to draw the same scene and then critiquing each other's work when you were done. You would trade books and ideas with Eloise, listen to Fran play the piano while working on your embroidery, and the scenes which would warm his heart the most, you’d come around to chase after Greg and Hyancith playing with them in the gardens and keeping a watchful eye to make sure they stayed safe. 

Anthony adored how close you were to his siblings, and he loathed how much of a distance there seemed to be between the two of you. 

You were cold to the Viscount, you had been since the evening you came to Daphne’s rescue, he had attempted to give you his thanks and you had simply excused yourself, “My apologies my Lord but I seem to be down a glass of lemonade presently and I find myself to be quite parched, excuse me.” Your tone was cold and Anthony spent the rest of that night and the next two years trying to figure out what he possibly couldn’t done to make you so icy towards him.

“I do not understand it Ben, she is so kind and lovely to the rest of you but is like a stone wall when it comes to me, what could I be missing?”

“Perhaps she just doesn’t like you brother have you ever thought of that?” Benedict was too preoccupied with this still life to deal with his older brothers pining at the moment. 

“That is not possible, I’ve done nothing but be the perfect gentleman to her.” 

“Anthony I have no idea why dear Y/N does not like you but what exactly will you whining in my studio do about that?” 

“I resent that. I am not whining I am simply asking my dearest brother for his advice on a matter I care very much about. I thought that was what brothers were for.”

“You want my advice, Anthony? Think. Think long and hard about what you want and how you’ll get it because Y/N has no patience for wishy-washy men.”

“That is horrible advice, Ben.”

“When then perhaps you can find better advice from your other brothers. Which will it be Anthony, the one who has been blindly in love with his best friend for years, or the ten-year-old?” 

“I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know. Now leave, that storm cloud above your head is casting shadows on my fruit.” Ben pointed his paintbrush at the bowl of fruit balanced atop a stool. Anthony huffed and knowing that it would bother his brother, he grabbed the apple off the top of the pile and took a bite of it as he strode out of the room

Ben had told him to think, but Anthony didn’t know what to think about. He knew that he craved your attention. He knew that he enjoyed seeing you around his house, interacting with the people whom he loves. He enjoyed hearing your witty comebacks and the way that even if you were not doing anything in particular you still fill the space you’re in.

He wanted her in his life, and if he was being completely honest with himself he wanted more than that. 

It’s during his musing that he runs into her in the hallway, you have a book clutched within your hand, and your head is held high. You don’t stop your stride even though he knows that you saw him. He bites his lip and tampers down a smirk. Add another thing to that list of things he likes about you, you have fire, he just wished that it wasn’t always aimed at him.

“Lady, L/N which one of my dear siblings are you spending your day with today?” He attempts to match his pace with yours catching up to you so that the two of you walk shoulder and shoulder.

“Actually, Lord Bridgerton, I was having tea with your mother this afternoon she invited me over so we could discuss what to do about Frannie’s debut next season.”

This was not something that normal family friends do, you know that and he knows that. His sibling’s entrances into society are a matter which the viscountess must handle, something his mother has had to continue to do because of his lack of a wife. 

“That was very kind of you to help her with.”

“Well, she doesn’t have anyone else to help her.” Your words cut him down, not for the first time. 

“Lady L/N may I be frank?”

“It is your home, you may do as you please.” You turn to face him, your face a mask of indifference. 

“What have I done to cross you, for the longest time I have known you you have been cold to me and I do not understand why?” 

“I had figured that you did not remember, either that or you had purposely forgone trying to speak with me about it.”

“About what?” 

“Our first meeting My Lord.” 

“I remember our first meeting very clearly, it is one of my fondest memories seeing you stand up for Daphne and ruin Lord Taylor’s vest.” He tilts his head to the side and smiles at the memory.

“That was not the first time we met My Lord, the first time we met you snubbed me in front of the entire ton and sparked rumors that did not leave me until two seasons later.” She was harsh in her words and the tightness in her shoulder’s belayed her desire to flee.

Anthony was speechless, surely he had not? He would’ve remembered her, would’ve remembered turning down one of the most beautiful women he had ever met, intentionally or otherwise. 

“I- I beg your deepest forgiveness Y/N I do not remember and if I had I would’ve tried to make it up to you tenfold by now.”

Your eyes began to gloss over and you looked at the wall beside his head, “It was my first season out, Lady Danbury’s ball, and I had seen you standing there surrounded by other gentleman. I had thought you a very fine figure and despite the rumor mill telling me you were nothing but a rake I had tried to begin a conversation. All you did was turn to me and laugh. I wasn’t asked to dance for the entire rest of that season and it was only until my Mother forced the son of one of her garden party friends to dance with me was that streak broken. You were the first and only man I had ever attempted to pursue and you laughed in my face. Were it not for my deep need to help those I see in need I would never have talked to you or any member of the Bridgerton family for the rest of my life.”

“You must know that I regret that, I regret everything I have ever done to hurt you and I will spend the rest of my days working for your forgiveness.” If Anthony was a weaker man he would’ve fallen to his knees and begged for your forgiveness until his last breath, right there in the hallways of his family’s home.

“I appreciate your words Anthony, but that’s all they are… words. I am unmarried, one year from becoming a spinster in the eyes of the entire ton, and you, you are the only one I can blame.” You don’t wait for his reply, just stalking off and wiping the tears from your eyes.

Anthony resolved himself in that moment. He would do whatever it took to make it up to you, to bring a smile to your face, and to cast away the hurt he had caused.

Part 2

[doki-doki-imagines]

tw: smut and fluff, use of safe word, breakdown (Michael), afab!reader.

author note: inspired by his current situation in the manga. And the fact that I miss him. "I miss my wife, Tails. I miss her a lot."

This wasn’t the first time Michael acted like this. Mouth biting into your neck, and hands furiously groping into your fat. Not even a hello before barging into your house, not a single care about what you were doing a second prior; he wants and takes.

You don’t mind that much, a rough fuck is a nice change and it’s not like he ever wants to hurt you, he just needs to release healthily some pent-up anger, and helping him out brings a lot of pleasure to you too. You don’t lose any time in the living room, your legs steady around his hips while he brings you to the bedroom, while his teeth mark the soft flesh of your neck.

The bed creaks under Michael’s thrusts, his strong fingers leaving indents on your skin, moans reverberating in the room. The blonde blue eyes never search for yours, his red eyeliner smudged in the corners. Michael bites his lips until he draws blood to not let any sound escape, something unusual since you tease him for how loud he usually is.

“Michael, red.” But more than that particular is different this time, something hurts and you need to take a break.

But he doesn’t stop, mind lost somewhere else, not with you. Thankfully you are in a position where you can easily move. You sit up, hand gripping his chin to finally be able to see him straight into his eyes. Michael doesn’t stop, if anything his trust only gets deeper, making you wince in pain.

“Stop Michael, you are hurting me.” There is no real anxiety in your voice, you trust him, but there is a hint of anger mixed with pain for obvious reasons.

It’s not the first time you used the safe word, but this time Michael cracks, hips finally stopping. His mouth falls into a deep frown, irises twitching and you can see a sea of anxiety into them, so deep and hurtful that soon fat tears roll down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry-“ He gasps out, hand covering his face, head down in shame. “I can’t make anything-I’m a fucking mess.”  Shivers run down his spine, muscles all over his body twitching and not of pleasure.

“Michael-“ You sit up on your knees after pulling him out. “Look at me.” You softly ask.  Michael refuses, face covered by his hand and soft strands of blonde and blue hair.  “Michael, don’t worry.” You coo, kissing the top of his head while hugging him, drawing small circles on his naked back. He keeps gasping in your arms, face still hidden, but this time in the nook of your neck.

“C’mon look at me, baby” Your voice is saccharine, trying to make him feel as at ease as possible. He doesn’t listen to you, blabbering excuses on your skin, tears now rolling down your back for how copious they are. “Shhh Michael.” You lift his face, your hands cupping his cheek to make sure he has to look at you. His eyes are red, and the pout hits you harder than a stab at your heart.

“It’s not about the safe word, right?” Michael shakes his head in your hand, eyes squeezed close, long blonde lashes sticking together due to the tears. You kiss his eyelid, as fast and as delicate as a butterfly, before asking your boyfriend to open his eyes.

“I think I may know a way to make you feel better? Wanna try?” Michael nods, one hand intertwining with yours before kissing between your palm and wrist.

You take it slow, your lips drifting from his cheek to his jaw, following an invisible path that will lead to his tranquility. Your hands push to his chest “Lay down baby, relax I’m here.” You whisper and it’s enough to convince him, relinquishing the control he so likes to have.

Your lips meet his, and you can taste the salt of his tears on them. It’s a slow dance, no hurry behind your movements, not in your kisses nor in the sweet caresses of your hands. You stroke his dick, grown soft due to the breakdown, making Michael mewl into your mouth, arching his back cutely under your movements.

You lower your core on his dick, making a soft whimper escapes both your throats. It feels so deep, filling you so perfectly you almost think you were crafted for each other. Your hips slowly grind into him, your hands finding purchase on his muscular thighs, immediately flexing under your soft fingers.

“Michael, you feel wonderful-“ You gasp, mouth shaped in a cute ‘o’. The blonde under you bites his lower lip, before looking away, not being able to hold your love-filled gaze.

“No, no baby.” Your hips stop moving while you crouch down a little, hands again on his face, turning it to you “Look at me, look at how happy you make me.”  Your lips are again on his, sucking on his tongue with no finesse, the calm of before brushed away from the passion blossoming into your heart. Your hands wander to his, still gripping into the white cotton covers, afraid to touch you.  

You pull his lower lips with your teeth before breaking the kiss “I wanna feel your hands on me.” It’s an order and Michael doesn’t have the strength to refuse, your softer hands on his rough ones, guiding them towards your waist.

“Only you-“ A gasp breaks your voice “Can make me feel like this” You start to raise your hips up and down his length, thighs already burning, not used to doing the hard work, your partner too used to be in control in any position.

Michael looks like a work of art under you, blue eyes a shade deeper thanks to bliss and lips a delicious shade of red. His abs twitch at your every moan and you can’t resist the temptation to caress them, feeling them under your hands before going to his chest and squeezing his pecs, and playing with his erect nipples that were just screaming for your attention.

You can’t go on for much more, your thighs burn and your apex is approaching, and not just yours.

“Michael, I-I love you.” It’s nothing earth-shattering, words that you both told to each other on various occasions, but a gear clicks in the blonde mind, his fingers gripping tightly onto your skin, for sure leaving signs that will be evident the next day.

He sits up, manhandling your legs around his hips, his forehead knocking against yours.

“Say it again.” He orders, voice hoarse. His hands gripping your middle again, his words sending a shiver down your back.

“I love you, Michael.” You whine, but the sound is broken by his lips on yours. His hands now forcefully pushing you up and down his length, giving you the possibility to fully enjoy him, for your mind to just be filled in pleasure. 

“You are so good-“ Your foreheads brushing against each other, sweat mixing and eyes tearing in pleasure, making it hard to open them up. He pushes you even more towards his body, making you feel every curve and twitch of his body against your softer one.

“I-I’m near-“ You blabber out, but you don’t need to add anything, his tattoed hand moving towards your clit, massaging it with a calm that doesn’t suit the actual situation.

“I love you too.” Michael mewls into your ear, licking the shell.

It's the straw that breaks the camel's back, you slump in his arms, the moans that leave your mouth a telltale sign that you reached your apex.

“Baby, hold on a little longer-“ Your boyfriend gasps, finally looking at you, with no trace of the previous shame.

You feel him twitch inside you, but you don’t feel as overstimulated as you should, your walls still gripping his thick length. Your eyes roll at each of his thrusts, now arhythmic and harsh, desperate for pleasure.

“Look at me.” You have no strength left in you, so Michael takes the matter into his own hands, holding your cheek, almost squeezing your face, not being able to perfectly control his strength.

“You are beautiful-“ He is able to whine one last time, before cumming, tension leaving his body, head turned back showing you his Adam’s apple bobbing.

He lays on his back, eyes closed, pushing you on top of him. His breath is frantic, still recovering from the orgasm.

“Wait-How are you?” His eyes snap open, looking at you remembering how he overstimulated you.

“No, Micha, don’t worry.” You caress his face, brushing away some blonde hair glued on his face due to the sweat. You pull yourself off from him, making you both groan a bit.

“I’m taking a bath, you wanna come?” You ask, smooching Michael on the cheek, your hand caressing his biceps, a gesture he seems to enjoy since he relaxes under your touch.

“Yeah, I’m coming.” Michael brushes his eyes, red from the tears and the eyeliner being irremediably smudged.

“You want to talk about what happened before?”

“I don’t want to bother you with my shit.” Michael snaps back.

“It’s not shit, and I want to help you. When you are sad it’s like I get stabbed in the chest, you know?”  You reply your chin on his chest, pulling the best puppy eyes you can muster.

He looks down on you, thinking for a minute about it while brushing your hair, making you purr under his touch.

“Okay then, let’s talk about it while we bathe.” Michael accepts, kissing the top of your head.

You kiss him, a big smooch full of cheer. It’s always so hard to make him open up, but you hope the soft atmosphere will make him melt and finally open up to you.

[freyito]

ɢɪʀʟᴅᴀᴅ ʙᴏᴏᴛʜɪʟʟ

✩ inspo: RECENT BOOTHILL LEAKS

★ summary: booty as a girldad...

✧ a/n: THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS TO BOOTHILL'S STORY!!!!! THESE ARE BASED OFF OF BOOTHILL LEAKS!!!!!!!!!!! HEAVY HEAVY SPOILERS!!!!! HEAVY SPOILERS!!!!

also i dont normally write stuff like this but oh my fucking god HE HAD A DAUGHTER. here's the fluff i promised after blue veins i guess. dont get too comfortable with it ;)

✦ like my work? feel free to send a request !

🗒 cw: gn reader, written before boothill release/2.2, BOOTHILL LEAKS, he's a good father. sorta, not proofread

✎ wc: 932

Boothill’s censorship comes in handy with the new addition to the family. Granted, he’s really good with watching himself around kids, regardless. He’s really good with kids, he becomes a softer person around them, even softer than he is with you. He’ll let them hang off his arms and draw things on his body, pick them up, and do that thing where he’ll throw them up in the air, spin them around, anything he can to play with the kids.

He starts to come back from missions faster, and spends more time with you and your daughter. He goes from ‘Trouble waits for no one!’ to ‘Trouble can wait a couple more days…’. He makes any little excuse to see her, and by Aeons, if you need a break, he’s more than happy to step in.

He is a total fashionista, too. He loooooooves dressing his daughter up in cute little dresses and overalls, braiding her hair and tying it up in bows. He’ll also let her play with his hair, no matter how frazzled he comes out. He’s content being her model, allowing her to put makeup on him as well. Sure, he’ll look silly, the brightest light blue eyeshadow caked on his eyelids, baby pink cheeks and deep red lipstick, but he feels pretty.

Of course, Boothill still can’t stay around as much as he’d like, he doesn’t want to risk the IPC finding him. He doesn’t want to risk the IPC finding her, specifically. He is too afraid of reliving the same scene, he often dreams of it, and there are times where he cannot tell the difference between his little girl and what was.

That means he’s protective. Even a little scrape and he’s worried, but he tries his best not to suffocate her. He’s worried, yes, but he gives himself space, for his sake and hers. He knows nothing good can come from an overbearing parent.

When she first started to walk he damn near cried, it was the first time you’ve seen him so soft and sappy. Yes, it was an ugly cry. He told everyone he knew that she WALKED! She walked to him! And he almost cries every time.

He’s also managed to keep the guitar he had made for his daughter, and he gifts it to your guys’ daughter. Not because he hopes that she will grow up to be what was, but because he believes it’s a nice memento. Somewhere out there, she’s watching you two build a family together, and she’s watching your little girl dance and play and giggle and even strum that guitar. And she’s happy.

Speaking of, he loves teaching his daughter guitar. Having her sit in his lap while he just strums, or showing her where to put her tiny fingers for certain notes. She’s not quite able to get it, but she laughs all the same, and that couldn’t make him happier.

Keeps every little drawing she makes up on the fridge. You’re starting to run out of space for magnets. Even if he’s not there, he wants her to know she’s an ARTIST. In every sense of the word. From preschool finger painting to elementary school drawings and so forth. Also keeps some folded up drawings in his wallet. His favorite is a stereotypical children’s drawing of you, him, and the house. Except he’s riding a pretty damn cool metal horse, (she named it ‘verminantor’, because she said it was cool. not ‘terminator’, no. ‘verminator’. make sure you get it right. Yes, Boothill named one of his bikes that) shooting his guns towards the sky. A pretty accurate depiction, you have to say.

He’s also really competitive for her. If she’s in any sports, he’s the dad screaming at the top of his lungs to ‘GO GET EM!!!!’ or ‘WIIIIIN!!!!!!’. He’ll get into verbal scuffles with other parents when they ask him to be quieter, because his baby deserves the best, and if the best is the loudest, then that’s what he’ll be.

Boothill is also an amazing storyteller, he can prattle on and on about whichever star system he’s been in for hours, it’s really handy when sending your daughter to sleep. Other kids really like his stories as well, he does his best to keep away from the violent parts (about 70% of his stories), and focus on how beautiful the planet was, or something like that. Most of the time he’ll pepper in stuff about a prince or a dragon or knights (which turned out to be true) to keep it entertaining, but pg for the kids.

He also spoils his daughter ROTTEN. He’ll come back from his little ‘sidequest’ with a bunch of gifts for both of you. He’s got all sorts of stuffed animals for his daughter, shirts, rocks, literally anything he could find that reminded him of her. Anything he could find that he knew she’d like.

He raises a rough n rowdy kid, essentially. The kind of father to let her roll around in the mud ‘cause she’s just havin’ fun’, who brings bugs home just for fun and names them all sorts of cowboy-esc names, (her favorite being Buck Bucksley– ‘it sounds like pa’s favorite word!’ she says, and you shoot him an angry glare. He looks away and shrugs it off, with a ‘I didn’t do nothin’.’) who’s favorite activity is looking for worms in the dirt, a kid who gets up quickly and dusts herself off when she scrapes her knees. And Boothill’s damn proud of her, absolutely gleaming with joy at any little accomplishment.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[grimm-writings]

I really like how you write. Can I have some Tall-man Chilchuck crumbs?🙏

don’t see, don’t think

…ft! chilchuck x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, reader is having a crisis, reader’s race and race change is left ambiguous (but implied to NOT be a half foot)

…wc! 571

…notes! JUST IN TIME BEFORE THE EPISODE ITSELF GRAGGGGHH!!!! apologies for the wait anon!!! enjoy your crumbs

Don’t see it, don’t think it, don’t see it, don’t think it, don’t see it—

“Why are you staring at the wall?”

The deeper voice is so unfamiliar that it leaves you nearly leaping into the air like a cat.  You know it to be Chilchuck, and yet you can’t bring yourself to turn away from said wall you were fixating your eyes on.

“...Just coming to terms with this new form is all,” you awkwardly excuse yourself.  More like you’re trying to come to terms with Chilchuck’s new form.

You were close with the lockpick, more than you were with anyone else in the party.  Never in your life did you really come to think of Chilchuck as attractive.  Maybe it’s the difference in race?

Those damn changelings, if it weren’t for this new perspective on the man you would have been fine.  You wouldn’t find yourself thinking about how he has a stubble, slightly darker than his reddish-brown hair.  You wouldn’t notice the fact he’s definitely taller than Laios was as a tall man.  You wouldn’t be melting at how his voice altered, and you absolutely wouldn’t be trying your best not to be a complete mess around him.

Chilchuck doesn’t seem to notice, though.  At least with this sudden change, his senses dulled.  So seems to be the case with how observant he is.  “Figures,” he sighs, folding his arms.  “It’s definitely a lot to get used to.”

As his sentence draws close to a murmur, Chilchuck’s voice lowers a bit more in pitch.  You had to stop yourself from facing the wall and banging your head against it.

Good God, why did this have to happen to you?!

“Mhm!” You agree with a hum.  If you don’t open your mouth, there isn’t a way for you to say something you’ll regret.

That doesn’t stop Chilchuck from going, “hey,” and you find that he’s adjusting your bodies around in a way that you can be eye level, face to face with one another.

Don’t see it, don’t think it, don’t see it, don’t think it, don’t see it— 

His eyes are still that familiar colour, a dark brown with a slight shine to them.  The lines underneath them crease as he sends you a fond smile.

“Don’t let this freak you out too much, yeah?”  Chilchuck reassures you, but you’re hardly listening as you note now at the short distance he has a dimple on his chin.  How cute.  “We’ll find some way to get rid of the, uh, ailment, ok?”

He laughs a little at his own choice of words, and you try to do so too.  It comes out awkward and forced, but Chilchuck just gives your shoulder a squeeze to show that it’s alright.

He walks ahead, leaving you at your wit’s end.  This truly is the death of you.

Izutsumi doggedly (quite literally) reaches your side, if only to give you a judgemental sidelong glance.

“Didn’t think you’d have a thing for rugged guys you’d usually find in a back alley.”

You turn around and wrap your hands around Izutsumi’s snout, keeping her mouth shut as she flails in anger.  This definitely needed to be fixed soon, and quickly too, lest you lose your senses entirely.

Trying not to look at Chilchuck definitely isn’t doing you any favours anymore either; his face is etched into your mind permanently (and will be for days after.)

[empress-simps]

Line That Leads To You

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem! Reader AU: Soulmate AU CW: Language, Genre: Angst with a happy ending (don't worry guys) Summary: You make Sirius realize that having a soulmate isn’t all that bad— that he too, will have his happily ever after.

Note: One of my favorite tropes to write, soulmate AUs! Sirius just needs love and affirmation. I love writing for this! Enjoy! Picture is from pinterest, credits to the owner!

You know, Sirius never really believed in those pesky soulmates stuff. It irks him to no end, and makes his head hurt.

The topic makes him snappy, bitter, and it leaves him feeling angry. To whom? The world— the one who’s responsible for everything that has to do with soulmates. He thinks it is a bunch of bollocks. It’s a pathetic little concept that everyone seems to be too invested in.

Sirius would be very much happy to tell you it doesn’t really end with a happily-ever-after.

“I’m telling you, Prongs. It’s just a bunch of crap.” Sirius tells James one time at the drawing room in the Potter Manor. James shakes his head, disagreeing with his best mate.

“It isn’t always like Walburga and Orion, Pads.” James gently tells him, eyes swimming with empathy for Sirius. “Just look at me, Lily and I are together, finally.” Sirius can’t help but scoff, shaking his head in a disagreeing manner.

“That’s because you were already pathetically in love with her before you even knew she was the one, Prongs. Same thing for Lily, but she was quite stubborn trying to deny what she felt about you. You guys are actually made for each other.” James lets out a laugh, the memories resurfacing making a love-struck smile appear on his face (Sirius gave him a disgusted look)

“That’s what soulmates are, Pads. You’re supposed to complete each other, balance the other person out” He pursed his lips and sighed, there’s no way Prongs could understand his opinion on the matter.

Complete each other, huh?

Then can someone give him a reasonable excuse on why his parents broke each other? One descended into madness; the other doesn’t really seem to care as long as the noble house of Black lineage will continue.

Sirius bites his bottom lip, deep in thought as he stares at his pinky, willing the connection to be seen; a red string that was tied into a bow that leads to Merlin-knows-where. It serves as a connection; the string that he and only his soulmate can see whenever they want. He tugs on it curiously, awaiting any reaction with bated breath. He almost scrambled away when he felt the other end also tug it. Sirius was utterly terrified, a shiver crawled up to his system, it’s foreign feeling for the Black’s eldest son. It made everything feel too real. A fact that he desperately tries to deny.

That night, before they returned to Hogwarts as sixth year students was the last time he ever willed to see the annoying little string in his pinky, not caring if his supposed other half was finding him or already found him.

Maybe it had to do with his twisted upbringing. He saw how his father cut the string tying him to their mother, the purple string that bound them together turning gray and withering away.

He saw how Regulus flinched, no one should’ve seen a scene like that, but they did. Someone severing their connection to someone who should’ve been with them through better or for worse, the one that fate intended for them. Their life got worse just after that, forcing him to flee and leave his younger brother behind at the deranged hands of Walburga Black.

“You should eat more, Reggie.” You turned towards the quiet and reserved Slytherin, pushing his plate closer to him, which made him wince. “I am quite full.” You raised a brow “None sense, all you did was sip pumpkin juice so you better do as I say or I’ll tell Evan and Junior.”

“Do you know that you boss people around quite well?” He grumbles, shoving a few spoonsful of dinner in his mouth as you hummed in approval, cracking a small smile. “I was told.” Your eyes flickered to the Gryffindor table, it seemed to gravitate you, pulling you in.

Looking down at your pinky, you willed the string to be visible to you. Seeing the red string attached to Sirius Black made your stomach churn; was it butterflies? Unease? You don’t particularly know, having mixed reactions to the string that leads to your other half.

You’ve known for over a year now, keeping it to yourself as you quickly figured out that he wants nothing to do with his soulmate.

“Reggie! Reggie!”

You exclaimed, slapping the poor boy’s arm as he was currently staying in the L/n Manor. He looked in your direction, quite annoyed, he was interrupted reading his book. “I’m reading, Y/n. You know, you should too. It’ll do you some good.” He sassed, trying to find which part he stopped reading. “My soulmate! They tugged the string!” You gushed, “They must be looking for me too, right?” You asked no one in particular, you can still feel the tingles you felt, how your heartbeat picked up, and how you felt like you were in could nine.

Quite the opposite from what Sirius felt, huh?

You never told him, never planned to. It was quite clear what his views are on the concept of soulmates when you saw him snogging different girls every week. It wrecked you; you swore you felt your heart stop beating every time you see him loving a girl other than you even just for a week. It sounds stupid and all, but you would give up everything just to know what it feels like; how he will look at you with love and adoration in his eyes, how his touch and kisses would linger on your body, and how his voice would sound like as his breath fans in your ear, whispering promises of love.

You looked at him from the Slytherin table; so close yet so far.

Regulus noticed, the all too familiar broken look in your face. His heart hurts for you, even if you do not tell him, he already knows. Seeing his brother’s indifference, Regulus’s gaze hardened. How could he have the guts to do this to his soulmate?

The memory of their mother's despair, the way she withered away after their father severed the bond, was etched into his mind. Regulus does not wish for anyone to feel that way, he does not wish upon it even in his worst enemies.

It was a pain no one should endure, a lesson that should have been learned.

Yet there sat his brother, laughing with his friends and willfully ignoring the pulls of his heart. The person who held the other end of this unseen tether, was beside Regulus. Your soul ached as you watched your soulmate. It was a betrayal of the heart's deepest connection, and it stirred a tempest of fury within Regulus that he struggled to contain.

“My brother is foolish. Eat.” He states, pushing your food and placing the cornbread on his plate to yours. She cracks a smile, chuckling. “Alright, Reggie. You’re lucky I love you.” You pat his curls, proceeding to eat the bread, smiling a little. Reggie never really shares his food with anyone, except for you. You’re the only exception.

“Padfoot.” Remus starts, looking out of the window as Sirius lays down lazily in his bed, looking at nothing.

“What, Moons?”

“If I say that I have an inkling on who your soulmate is, would you… look for them?” Remus asked cautiously. Peter and James perked up, eyes wide with shock. How could Remus possibly guess who his soulmate is? Unless… They’re also in Hogwarts?

“Don’t start with that crap, Moony.” Sirius sat up; a scowl displayed in his features as his grey eyes turned stormy.

“Don’t you even feel the slightest amount of guilt in your system as you snog other girls?” Remus frowned.

Sirius’s scowl deepened, his hands clenching into fists. “Guilt? For what, Moony? For not wanting to be chained down by some ancient magic?” His voice was a low growl, barely containing the emotions that surged within him. “I won’t be dictated by fate. I make my own choices, and I refuse to be bound by a bond I never asked for.”

Remus’s expression softened, the lines of concern etching deeper into his face. “It’s not about being chained, Pads. It’s about finding someone who complements you, who understands you in ways no one else can.” He paused, his gaze steady and piercing. “You’ve seen what happens when that bond is severed. You’ve seen the pain it causes. Is that what you want for yourself? For your soulmate who’s probably hurting somewhere?”

Sirius looks down, biting his lip and playing with the rings on his fingers. “I don’t plan on severing our bond, Moons- “

“Then what the fuck are you doing?” Remus spat, Sirius flinched, looking at anything but them. He knew deep down that Remus was right. He can’t deny he also wants to look for his soulmate. The only thing that was holding him back is that he’s scared. What if your story would end similarly like how Walburga and Orion’s did? Dread fills his system as he reflects on how he slowly realized he’s becoming like his father. Peter and James exchanged a glance, the weight of the conversation settling heavily upon them.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of finding her… Scared of repeating the same mistakes.” He paused, his gaze lifting to meet Remus’s. “But you’re right. I can’t keep running from this. It’s not fair to them, and it’s not fair to me.”

James offered a supportive smile, feeling happy for his friend. Sirius stood up, his posture straightening as if shedding the weight of his fears. “I’ll do it. I’ll find her,” he declared, his voice steady. “I owe it to both of us to at least try.”

“That’s our Padfoot.” Remus breathes a sigh of relief as Peter nods encouragingly at Sirius.

The next daylight soon came. Sirius gulps, looking around the great hall, feeling quite overwhelmed at the number of students entering for breakfast, eating, or chatting amongst themselves. For the first time in a long time, he willed the red string of fate to reappear within his vision.

Ah, there it was. The red string connected to someone from the Slytherin table. Sirius felt his heart drop, seeing the end of the string connected to your pinky. “Y/n?” The name left his lips in a hushed awe, his heart skipping a beat as he saw the string connected to your pinky. You, who laughed with such ease beside Regulus, were the missing piece.

Whether it was some brotherly instinct, Regulus looked at him, shooting him a warning stare as if to say: ‘If you hurt her, you’ll never see the light of day ever again.’

Remus raised his eyebrows in surprise, knowing eyes set on his friend. “Found her, Pads?”

“Yeah. Found her, Moony.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” James chimed in, a grin spreading across his face as Peter silently cheers him on. “Go on, before you lose your nerve.”

Sirius took a deep breath, trying to shake off the weight of Regulus’s protective stare. It was a silent challenge, a vow to keep your heart safe from his brother. With a nod of acknowledgment, Sirius stepped forward, crossing the small distance between the Gryffindor table and Slytherin.

“Y/n,” he said, standing before you, the red string pulsing with a life of its own.

You stilled, slowly looking in his direction. Eyes wide with surprise, searched his for a moment before softening. “I was wondering when you’d come around,” you teared up, making Sirius’ heart ache.

Sirius extended his hand, the red string wrapping around both your destinies. “Let’s talk, yeah?”

And in that moment, as your fingers intertwined, Sirius knew that whatever the future held, he had made the right choice. For in finding you, he had found a new path that began to unravel, one filled with hope and courage. The buzz of Great Hall continued, but both of them felt time still, feeling the bond weave into their souls deeper.

Sirius’s and Y/n’s story had its flaws, but it was theirs, uniquely woven by the red strings of fate.