#Raised wooden cat beds

[businesspilled]

i’m back in seattle oh my god thank god

[yueebby]

onsen incident  — gojo satoru

synopsis. gojo satoru gets everything he wants and right now he really wants to go to an onsen with you.

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo, he's just a cute loser, highschool!gojo (first year), he needs to be locked up asap

notes. this is part ii to indulge me? and a piece in the series, but can be read alone.

you’re not sure how you ended up here. one moment you were exorcizing a grade one curse that rampaged a small town with gojo and now you find yourself back at the ryokan you had stayed at the prior night. except this time around you have an overly excited gojo, still at a high from the successful mission.

“suguru mentioned how nice the onsens here were,” he brings up innocently, his lips curving into a sly grin. you spare him a side glance. 

“we should be heading back to the airport to return to tokyo,” you asserted, eyes trained on the entrance of the onsen— a wooden paneled door leading to the private hot spring that came with the room you and gojo had unknowingly reserved. 

gojo stretched leisurely, his body arched like a cat as he yawns, “i don’t know about you but i’m beat! that curse wore out all my energy and a quick dip in an onsen is just what this body needs.” he opens one eye, gauging your reaction.

you don’t buy his act. “you exorcised the curse instantaneously, gojo.”

but gojo doesn’t back down easily, “yeah, well that took up a lot of cursed energy and now i’m drained,” he reasons. the white haired male solidifies his argument by collapsing on you just to show how fatigued he was. his dramatic show nearly sends you tumbling.

annoyance simmered in you, arms folding over your chest. the flight back to tokyo was in a couple of hours, and you had hoped to be able to go sightseeing. 

but gojo’s sky-blue eyes plead silently as they look up at you, unblinking. his pink lips start to quiver. it was hard to deny him when he was basically begging. as comical as his dramatics were, you could almost argue how hard it was to resist his unwavering gaze. plus, he was the one that completed the mission singlehandedly.  

“fine.” you yielded. “thirty minutes and then we leave.”

he perks up happily.

“great! let’s go!” without wasting a moment, he seizes your hand and practically skips to the entrance. 

you recoiled, nearly shrieking, “you pervert! i’m not going in there with you! i’m going to go sightseeing.” 

gojo looks at you like you’ve sprouted two heads.

“... then what’s the point of the onsen?” he looked at you incredulously. it deeply troubled you that someone so conniving could look so innocent.

your response is caught in your throat, leaving you flustered and unable to make eye contact. arms remained crossed, you mutter, “you’re insane if you think i’m stepping foot in an onsen with you.”

gojo’s tongue prodded at his cheek, lost in thought, “they do say you have to be insane to be a jujutsu sorcerer." he looks at you all enthused, "don’t be shy now, we’ve already slept together after all.” there’s a teasing lilt in his voice.

“we slept in the same bed– not together! don’t you go spreading that around now,” you jump to cup a hand over his mouth. you feel him grin underneath the palm of your hand.

“same thwing,” gojo’s voice is muffled, but he doesn’t bother taking your soft hand off his face. 

“it is not,” you furrow your eyebrows. 

“it can be.” he wiggles his eyebrows, a boyish smile growing.

you remove your hand from his face, “have you no shame?” 

“not a shred,” he declares cheerfully. “come on, we’re wasting precious time standing here. i can feel the steaming water calling our names.” 

“i’ve told you already, gojo. i’m not going to a hot spring naked with you.” 

he waves his hand dismissively, “you don’t have to be naked, it’s not unheard of for people to go in with a towel.”

you sigh exasperatedly at his stubborn disposition, “it would still be highly inappropriate.”

“as inappropriate as cuddling with your classmate while he’s naked and unconscious?” he raises an eyebrow suggestively. gojo was once again referring to the previous night’s moment of vulnerability.

you stiffen. 

“it was not like that and you know it. for all i know, you were the one cuddling me,” you retorted, crossing your arms with a huff.

 gojo raises his hands in defense, “how about we call it even and hop in the hot spring together as a compromise?”

“that doesn’t make any sense.”

“it makes perfect sense. just two classmates relieving the weight of the world off their shoulders.” 

you hate that he’s starting to convince you. 

the knowing smile creeping on gojo’s face signals that he’s sensed your weakening resolve. he decides to deal the finishing blow.

“this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. with busy lives like ours, who knows the next time we will be able to visit one of the world’s best hot springs?” he gestures dramatically. reluctantly, you start to give into his words.

“fine. but if i see you indecent, i will kill you.” you point a finger threateningly at gojo. 

he simply chuckles, “kinky.”

operation satoru x [name]!!!!

gojosatowu attachment: 1 image

shoko.ieiri what the actual hell gojo.  i did not need to see a picture of you with nothing but a towel on. ts is disgusting.

getosugu where is [name]? i thought you guys were returning from your mission today.

gojosatowu heh the two of us are going to take a little dip in kyushu’s world famous onsens haha :3

shoko.ieiri WHAT

getosugu  you?? [name]?? onsen?? together?? gojo satoru explain hello?

shoko.ieiri where is [name] you dirty pervert  i swear i’ll murder you if you pull any dirty tricks answer now

gojosatowu gotta go! ive been dreaming of this day ><

shoko.ieiri  don’t you go ignoring us!!

you’re already settled in the hot spring by the time gojo arrives. with a snug towel secured tightly around your body, you are submerged underwater from the chest down. the steam curls lazily into the air, casting a dreamlike haze around you.

“for someone that was excited about the onsen, you came awfully late,” you quipped at the snow-haired boy. his signature glasses are absent, allowing you complete access to his azure eyes. on the other hand, gojo is granted the opportunity of seeing you in all of your natural beauty.

gojo enters the steaming water just a couple of feet away from you, “had to calm myself before seeing you.” he sighs contentedly when the water envelopes him. it was true. his nerves were a lot calmer when he was fighting the grade one curse than the short walk from the changing room to the hot spring.

you can't help but roll your eyes at his obvious flirtation attempt, but you decide to let it slide.

the conversation lapses into silence, an awkward veil settling between you. you were starting to regret ever entertaining gojo’s invitation to the onsen. to escape the discomfort, you divert your gaze to the steam rising from the water's surface and the surrounding rocks. the trees around you start to look interesting as you focus on not letting you eyes stray on gojo’s solid buil—

breaking the silence, gojo interjects, "did ya think i looked cool taking down that curse?"

your eyes shift from the rocks to gojo’s face, “it was quite impressive how you were able to crush the curse with your infinity.” you have heard of stories of gojo’s strength, but seeing it with your very own eyes was truly incredible.

he preens under your praise, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

"perhaps i deserve a reward," he suggests, his voice taking on a playful tone.

you entertain the idea, your curiosity piqued. "i suppose you do."

a deeper flush tinges gojo's cheeks, and he averts his gaze. without warning, he points at his cheek, anticipating something. you tilt your head, puzzled by his unspoken request. he keeps pointing to his cheek, poking it multiple times.

“…”

“give me a kiss!”

the water ripples with how fast you lean back, “huh? no way.”

undeterred, gojo shakes his head. "fine then. i guess i'll have to kiss you.”

your eyes widen as he leans closer, and you instinctively scoot away, surprised by his boldness. "what? no!"

“eh?! why not? i went total snowagumon on that curse!”

“that’s your job gojo,” you respond matter-of-factly. you’re a bit taken aback by his digimon reference. how dorky.

gojo clicks his tongue, feigning indignation as he looks away. “hmph. can’t even get appreciation for keeping the world in balance.” 

you let out a resigned sigh, realizing he's being dramatic again. it almost feels like dealing with a child. but you suppose you’ll play right into his hands this time– and this time only. he has worked hard on this mission, taking on all the work while you watch idly from the sidelines.

hesitantly, you inch closer towards his frame. the distance closes as you lean towards his face. it was only a split second, but your lips placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. 

you watch what once was a pink blush blossomed into something deeper. gojo sits up a little straighter and you notice how the corner of his lips are slightly upward.

“gojo, are you oka–” 

“satoru. call me satoru,” he interjected, sounding breathless, his eyes locking on yours. 

you look at him, uncertain. “isn’t that a bit too informal? we’ve only known each other for a couple of months.”

“if it was up to me, we’d be married by now,” satoru closes his eyes nonchalantly, sinking deeply into the water until half of his face is under. he blows a series of bubbles. he really was a child.

your laughter rings out melodiously as you throw your head back, finding his remark utterly amusing.  “you’re actually ridiculous.” 

satoru watches you with a soft smile, his heart feeling lighter. it was criminal how cute you were. if this was his reward for exorcizing a measly grade one curse, he was willing to wipe out all special grades on the earth just to receive your praise again. maybe next time you'll even kiss him on the lips (he'll die a happy man if that happens).

"i am, aren't i?" he muses, basking in the joy of the moment.

extra notes. i lowk hate this but due to popular demand i had to write it. ps i dont even know anything abt digimon i js know gojo likes it gn (forgive me if my digimon reference was totally wrong)

[pucksandpower]

Under the Mistletoe

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando really wants you to kiss him under the mistletoe. Sounds normal enough, right? Wrong! So wrong

Warnings: 18+ content and description of an allergic reaction

The apartment is finally quiet. The muffled thrum of conversation and laughter that had filled every corner just hours ago has faded, leaving only the faint crackle of the fireplace in the living room. It smells like pine needles, spiced cider, and the faint citrus tang of your new body wash. You pad softly down the hallway in your slippers, the wooden floor cool beneath your feet.

“Lando?” You call, peeking into the dimly lit bedroom.

He’s there, of course, but the sight that greets you isn’t what you expect.

Lando is lying on his back, smack in the middle of the bed, arms folded behind his head like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s wearing nothing. Absolutely nothing … except for a single, strategic adornment. Tied with what looks like a strip of red ribbon, a sprig of mistletoe dangles provocatively from his dick.

“Seriously?” You stop in the doorway, blinking. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Happy Christmas,” he says, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s an invitation.” He tilts his head slightly, his curls a messy halo against the pillow. “You’ve got to kiss me.”

“Oh, I’ve got to, have I?” You fold your arms, biting back a smile.

“Under the mistletoe,” he clarifies, as if that makes it any less ridiculous. “It’s the rules. I don’t make them.”

“You absolutely made this up.”

Lando shrugs, utterly unrepentant. “Does it matter?”

You stand there for a moment, torn between amusement and disbelief. “You know, normal people just leave cookies for Santa. Not …” You gesture vaguely at him, at the ribbon, at everything.

“Not everything has to be normal,” he says, his grin softening slightly. There’s something teasing in his tone, but there’s sincerity, too. “Come on, it’s Christmas. Don’t leave me hanging.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And you love me for it.”

There’s no point denying it. You do love him — ridiculous, over-the-top antics and all. With a sigh that’s more for show than anything else, you take a few steps closer to the bed.

“Alright,” you say, pretending to consider. “Where exactly am I supposed to kiss you? The mistletoe’s not even …” You trail off, waving a hand vaguely in the air.

Lando smirks, his eyes dancing. “Where do you think?”

“You’re unbelievable,” you say again, but you’re already climbing onto the bed. The mattress dips under your weight, and Lando watches, clearly pleased with himself.

“You’re not protesting much,” he points out.

“Shut up.”

“You could have just stayed in the doorway, you know. Told me off or something. But no, here you are-”

“Lando,” you cut in, leaning over him.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Your lips are on his before he can say anything else, cutting off whatever smug reply he had planned. His hands slide instinctively to your waist, pulling you closer as you kiss him.

It’s not rushed. The night has been long, full of people and noise and obligations, and this moment feels like a welcome reprieve. Lando’s mouth is warm, insistent but unhurried, and you let yourself get lost in it for a while, your fingers tangling in his hair.

When you finally pull back, he looks up at you, flushed and grinning.

“Good start,” he says, his voice a little breathless.

“Don’t push your luck.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look. “Really?”

“Okay, maybe a little,” he admits, his grin widening.

Shaking your head, you shift your attention downward. The ribbon, the mistletoe — it’s so absurd you have to laugh.

“Did you seriously tie this yourself?” You ask, running a finger lightly along the edge of the ribbon.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Fine, yes. Took me a solid twenty minutes, too. Those stupid YouTube tutorials make it look way easier than it is.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” he says, his voice dropping slightly, “you’re still here.”

You meet his gaze, your laughter fading. The teasing, playful look in his eyes hasn’t disappeared, but there’s something else there now — something softer, more vulnerable. It’s the look he gets when he’s reminding you, without words, just how much you mean to him.

“Well,” you say quietly, “it is Christmas.”

“And you’ve got to follow the rules,” he murmurs.

“Right.”

The bed creaks slightly as you shift again, positioning yourself more comfortably. You lean down, pressing another kiss to his lips — gentler this time, more lingering. Then you trail kisses along his jaw, his collarbone, the faint dusting of freckles across his chest.

Lando lets out a soft, contented sigh, his hands finding your hips again. “You’re taking this very seriously,” he says, his voice tinged with amusement.

“I’m nothing if not thorough.”

“Lucky me.”

You glance up at him briefly, smirking. “You’ve no idea.”

When you finally reach the ribbon, you pause, your lips hovering just above it. Lando’s breathing hitches slightly, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Merry Christmas, Lando,” you murmur.

“Best Christmas ever,” he replies, his voice low and fervent.

And then, with deliberate slowness, you kiss him under the mistletoe.

You pause for a beat, the mistletoe brushing lightly against your cheek. Lando’s breathing is heavier now, his chest rising and falling beneath you. He’s trying to stay still, but his fingers dig into your skin, betraying how much control he’s losing.

“You alright up there?” You ask, teasing, your voice low.

“You know I’m not,” he mutters, his words strained.

“Good.”

And with that, you continue. Deliberate. Unhurried. Every movement of your mouth is purposeful, every touch designed to unravel him. Lando groans, low and broken, the sound rumbling through the quiet room like a storm on the horizon.

“Fuck, you’re …” He cuts himself off, his head tipping back into the pillow. His hands flex against your hips, as if holding you steady is the only thing grounding him.

“Say it,” you murmur, barely pulling away for a second.

He glances down at you, his hazel eyes dark and glassy. “You’re killing me,” he manages, his voice hoarse.

You smile, the corners of your mouth curving just slightly before you return to your task. Lando’s hands slip from your shoulders, clutching the sheets instead. He’s completely undone now — his breathing ragged, his head thrown back, his body trembling beneath you.

“F-fuck … close,” he stammers, his words tumbling out like he’s barely holding them together.

You hum softly in acknowledgment, the vibration of it drawing a sharp, involuntary gasp from him. It’s all he can take.

He breaks.

A strangled sound escapes his throat as his body tenses, and you taste the telltale musky warmth on your tongue. You stay where you are for a moment, letting him ride out the high, his grip on the sheets going slack.

When it’s over, you pull back slowly, swallowing before wiping at the corner of your mouth. One drop clings stubbornly to your lip, and you swipe it away with your thumb, catching Lando’s hazy, satisfied gaze as you do.

“You alright there?” You ask softly, your tone light but full of affection.

“Barely,” he mutters, his voice thick. He exhales sharply, his chest still heaving as he lets his head fall to the side, watching you with a dazed grin. “You’re-”

“What?” You tilt your head innocently, wiping your hand on a tissue before tossing it onto the nightstand.

“Perfect,” he finishes, his voice soft and full of something deeper than just the moment.

You laugh quietly, crawling up the bed to lie beside him. He pulls you close immediately, one arm draped over your waist, the other brushing back a strand of hair from your face.

“Was this your master plan all along?” You tease, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Maybe,” he admits, still catching his breath.

“And?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” He grins, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

You roll your eyes but smile against his skin. “Merry Christmas, Lando.”

“Happy Christmas,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with exhaustion and contentment.

For a moment, neither of you says anything more. The only sound is the quiet crackle of the fire in the distance, and the world beyond the bedroom feels miles away.

Eventually, Lando breaks the silence. “So … same thing next year?”

You shove him playfully, laughing as his grin widens. “Go to sleep.”

And with him wrapped around you, the warmth of his love settling over you like a blanket, you do.

***

The morning light creeps through the curtains, warm and soft, a stark contrast to the frantic energy in the room. You stir awake first, stretching lazily until you feel Lando shift beside you, letting out a low, uncomfortable groan.

“Ugh,” he mutters, his voice muffled by the pillow. “Something’s wrong.”

“What do you mean, wrong?” You mumble sleepily, rolling over to look at him.

He doesn’t respond immediately, just shifts again, his body stiff and tense. Then he sits up abruptly, wincing as if every movement hurts.

“Lando?” You ask, more alert now.

“It … hurts,” he says, glancing down at himself. “Like, bad.”

You follow his gaze, and that’s when you see it. The redness. The swelling.

“Oh my God,” you say, your voice shooting up an octave. You sit up fully, the sleepiness disappearing in an instant. “What happened?”

“I don’t know!” He exclaims, his face a mixture of panic and embarrassment. “It was fine last night!”

“Well, it’s not fine now!” You scoot closer, carefully inspecting the irritated skin. It’s blotchy, bright red, and looks alarmingly angry.

“It’s swollen,” he groans.

“No kidding.”

“What do we do?” He asks, his voice bordering on frantic.

“First, calm down,” you say, though your own voice isn’t exactly steady. “Second … oh my God, Lando, do you think it’s the mistletoe?”

His eyes widen as the realization hits. “You think I’m allergic?”

“Do you have any idea where that stuff’s been stored? It’s probably coated in dust or pollen or something. Or-” Your voice catches. “Do you think you’ve always been allergic?”

“I’ve never, uh … put it on my cock before, so how would I know?”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, panic simmering between you.

“We need help,” Lando says finally.

“Like … a doctor?”

“No!” He yelps. “We’re not going to a doctor for this!”

“Then what-”

“Call Jon,” he blurts out, cutting you off.

“What?” You ask, incredulous. “Your performance coach?”

“Yeah! He knows, like, medical stuff. And he won’t make it weird.”

You raise a skeptical eyebrow but grab your phone anyway, scrolling to Jon’s number. “Oh, this isn’t going to be awkward at all,” you mutter as it rings.

“Hello?” Jon answers, sounding far too chipper for the situation.

“Uh, hi, Jon,” you begin, exchanging a look with Lando. “It’s Y/N. Lando and I have … a bit of a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” Jon asks, his voice immediately shifting to professional concern.

“Well …” You trail off, glancing at Lando, who gestures frantically for you to continue. “It’s kind of … personal.”

“Y/N,” Jon says patiently, “you’re going to have to be a little more specific.”

You let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Okay, fine. Lando’s … area is swollen and covered in a rash.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“… Come again?” Jon finally says, and you can practically hear him trying not to laugh.

“It’s not funny!” Lando shouts from the bed. “It’s serious!”

“Oh, it’s serious?” Jon repeats, his voice full of barely concealed amusement. “Alright. How did this happen?”

You hesitate, then mumble, “He … tied mistletoe to it last night.”

Jon doesn’t reply immediately, but the faint sound of him choking back laughter comes through the line.

“Can you help or not?” Lando snaps, his cheeks flushing red — whether from anger or embarrassment, you’re not sure.

“Okay, okay,” Jon says, his tone softening. “It’s probably an allergic reaction. Clean the area thoroughly, apply a topical antihistamine if you have one, and keep it elevated to reduce swelling.”

“Elevated?” You echo, frowning. “How are we supposed to-”

“Just do your best,” Jon says, clearly suppressing a laugh again. “And if it doesn’t improve in a few hours, you might need to, uh … consult a professional.”

“Thanks, Jon,” you say quickly, hanging up before Lando can yell again.

Lando groans, flopping back onto the bed. “This is the worst Christmas ever.”

“You’ll survive,” you say, grabbing the first-aid kit from the bathroom. “Now, let me see.”

“This is humiliating,” he mutters, but he doesn’t resist as you sit beside him, carefully applying the ointment Jon suggested.

“Hold still,” you say gently, your touch careful.

He winces but doesn’t complain further, watching you with a mix of gratitude and lingering embarrassment. After a few minutes, the redness looks slightly less angry, though the swelling is still noticeable.

Once you’re done, you sit back with a sigh, your hands on your knees. “Well, that was a bonding experience.”

Lando lets out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, not exactly what I had planned.”

You glance at him, your lips twitching upward despite everything. “So … was it worth it?”

He grins, some of his usual confidence returning. “Next year, I’ll make sure to have an epipen ready.”

You laugh, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Next year, maybe let’s stick to normal traditions. Like cookies. Or matching pajamas.”

“We’ll see,” he says, smirking as he leans back against the pillows. “I’ve still got a whole year to think of something even better.”

“God help us all,” you mutter, but there’s affection in your voice.

And despite the chaos, as you settle back into bed beside him, you can’t help but think it’s still a Christmas to remember.

[pseudowho]

It wasn't the first time Kento had bought you flowers.

Your week had started badly, and as weeks which start badly often do, had the audacity to get worse. And worse. And worse. Kento watched it with the mute horror of a husband who could do little to intervene in the particular nature of ills the universe had decided to throw at you.

Sat on the sofa on Friday evening, your week finally dragged (kicking and screaming) to a close. You slumped against the cushions, having drowned your misery in most of a bottle of wine, and you sniffled, hiccupping.

Kento approached you with gentle caution; not because he couldn't manage your anxious, ill-tempered sniping at him. But rather, because he did not want to provoke a snipeshot, just to see you add a gut-chewing guilt to your list of misery, too.

"I just--" You sniffed, rubbing your eyes with the sleeve of one of Kento's old cardigans, "--I just wanna...get back to normal. Have an easy weekend. Bake...bake some bread, or...or something..."

Kento chuckled, sitting opposite you, and pulling your foot onto his lap to stroke it. His voice rumbled, good-humoured.

"Bake some bread?"

You giggled, which bubbled into a sob, lubricated by your wine. You pressed your head into the back of the sofa, slowly falling asleep to the feeling of his fingertips rolling sweet massages up your legs.

You felt Kento shift, climbing closer to bracket over you. You felt his nose, his breath, nudging the side of your head as if a cat. Your face crumpled into a frown, grumbling.

"...Kento...stop..."

"Time for bed, beautiful." Kento whispered against your hairline. "Come on."

You resisted, a paltry effort. You felt Kento's arms slip behind your knees, around your back, lifting you with a grunt, to cradle against him. Walking you to the bedroom, he kicked the door open with one bare foot, and slipped you into bed.

You dipped in and out of sleep, to clattering noises coming from the bathroom.

"Open up." You obeyed, and giggled to feel a toothbrush begin to swish around your mouth. Floppy and useless because Kento allowed you to be, you finally fell into a fractious sleep, disturbed by the traumas of the week you had left burning in your wake.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You woke, reluctantly, to the muffled slam of the front door. You predicted the next sounds in your sleep-addled state, and heard them in perfect order: keys hung up. Shoes kicked off, placed into the shoe rack. Kento clearing his throat. A coat hanging, and footsteps past your bedroom.

You rolled, sloppy, shuffling out of bed with a yawn.

Approaching the kitchen, you noticed a wooden palette on the kitchen counter, and frowned. Inside, in neat rows, lay bag after bag of carefully colour coded...something. You blinked, bleary, and Kento smiled at you as if you were a painted beauty.

He approached you, trailing fingers through your scruffled hair with a hum. His hand dipped down to your fingers, grasping them and bringing their knuckles to his lips for a kiss.

"Good morning, lover."

"Kento, what's..." You gestured to the palette.

Kento was tying an apron behind his waist, flicking through a recipe book with carefully colour-coded notation stickers. He looked up to you, and to the palette, his eyebrows raising for a moment.

"I bought you flours."

"...flowers?"

"No. I bought you flours."

You blinked once, confused. You rolled a bag, turgid and heavy in your hand, and felt the softground shift of the contents within, and it clicked.

"...flours." You sniffled, welling up. "You bought me...flours. Flours, for..."

Kento's smile softened, turning the honey in his eyes to melted gold as he cupped your face, stroking one stray tear away with a swiping thumb. He whispered.

"Flours. For bread."

Kento reached behind himself, his eyes still on you, and a giggle chirped through you again as he lowered an apron loop over your head, reaching around in an embrace to tie it behind your back.

Hours later, sampling different hot breads, oozing with melted butter, a white sheet had draped over the week you left behind you. You left whitedust handprints on Kento's bottom. He sliced wheatsheafs into dough.

It wasn't the last time Kento bought you flours.

(bonus points to anyone who can guess the movie reference)

[ilys00ga]

𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝘂𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲.

➞ pair: yoongi x female reader.

➞ word count: 1k

➞ synopsis: "yoongi and reader making a meal together for yoongi's parents" with a little bit of a domestic twist.

➞ genre: established relationship, husband!yoongi, dad!yoongi, just fluffy fluff fluff, they cook together, dad!yoongi, nothing goes wrong, dad!yoongi, just pure happiness, they also call it tooth-rotting fluff lol, did I mention: DAD!YOONGI ???, they have a babygirl uwu <33

➞ A/N: first off, thank u anon for sending me this super cute prompt, I loved it and had sm fun writing it!! second, EID MUBARAK TO MY FELLOW MUSLIMS OUT THEREEE <3 this is my lil gift for yall on this eid. it wasn't supposed to be this long tbh, and I haven't written anything for over a month, so, sorry if this is kind of messy and all over the place??? im trying to get my sht together again. but I really liked the prompt and!!! had to write it!!!! kkk enjoy bbys <3

ps. any form of feedback is reallyyyy appreciated. I live for compliments :) !

★ MASTERLIST.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

It was one warm spring morning.

Yoongi was back from a long series of concerts just a couple of days ago. Grateful to be finally home with the two people that mean the absolute world to him. Your cat was purring on his chest as the two of you laid on the bed, enjoying the quiet of Saturday that had just begun, when his mother called to announce that, later that evening, she and his father would be coming over.

One thing led to another, and there you stood with your husband in the kitchen. One was chopping ingredients up by the stove, the other handling a mixer. Your two years old baby girl, Nara, was sitting in her high chair somewhere away from the oven and any other harmful thing. What used to be your favorite playlists playing ever so softly in the background as you fixed yourselves your favorite meals, together, was replaced with the mindless blabbering of your sweet baby girl instead, playing with the wooden spoon you had given her to play with some minutes before.

“Is this good?” Yoongi dipped the tip of his finger into the mixture he’s been working on, and carefully brought it up to your lips. You hummed in satisfaction as soon as the flavors hit your taste buds, a little bit taken aback at how he nailed your mother’s secret recipe only in the first try, “Great. You’re getting so good at this, Yoonie. I think you should take over kitchen duties very soon.”

He snorted, “If that means I’ll never have to do the laundry ever again, then sure.”

Feigning annoyance, you hissed at him, “You’re so lazy.”

“No one likes doing laundry, honey. Not even you.”

"You're so annoying."

Your daily bickering banters were disturbed by the sound of his phone ringing from the other room. He left to take the call, leaving you with your noisy little baby. The chef hat she had on her head–Yoongi's idea, by the way, along with the tiny apron she wore as well–was almost too big on her. It made her look a thousand times more adorable that you immediately started grinning and cooing when she looked up at you.

"And what about you chef? Are you having fun?"

She balled her fists up and raised them in the air, wiggling in her seat to let you know that she wanted to be picked up. Being the ever so whipped mom that you were, you scooped her up in your arms right away, and peppered kisses all over her chubby face. Her giggles seeped through your skin and locked into your bones, aching with a sickeningly utmost adoration.

“Mom said they’re almost here.” Said Yoongi upon entering the kitchen, putting his phone atop the table and smiling as soon as his eyes fell on the two of you—his girls.

“Are you being a good chef assistant, baby?” He cooed, kissing her cheek, then leaning in to leave a peck on your lips.

“She’s been blabbering her life off the whole time you were gone." you hummed.

“Mom is going to have a good time conversing with her this evening.”

“We’re almost done cooking now.” You reminded him, “Honey, check on the oven please.”

“Right.”

A wave of heat hit his face as soon as he opened the oven, but he smiled once he checked on the muffins, “they are done.”

When he took the tray out and swiftly put it on the counter, Nara erupted in a fit of loud blabber, flailing the arm that clutched on the wooden spoon in the air and almost smacking your face in the process.

It had your husband giggling, of course. He couldn’t help but join in and engage with her blather, how could he not when he got such an adorable chatterbox for a child? “Huh, Nini? The muffins are done! Yeah!”

He took her into his arms, allowing you to go check on the stewpot that was still boiling on the stove, before bringing her to have a look at the tray of the mouth watering muffins, and cheered, “look!”

Your heart, yet again, swooned, almost oozing out of your ribs with how tight your chest grew to be at the sound of your baby’s joyful squeals. She was all excited as her daddy showed her around the process of cooking the dinner for her grandparents.

Nara was having the time of her life. For some reason, she's always loved being in the kitchen. Yoongi once made a comment about her becoming a successful chef, which then turned into a long, heartwarming talk about your daughter and her future. The gentle smile Yoongi had on his face throughout that was one to die for, especially when he sulked about not wanting your babygirl to grow up. His pout was so intense, you ended up engulfing him in a bone crushing hug for almost half an hour.

It was moments like this one that you wished were pictures so you could cut them up and hide them. Somewhere deep inside your heart. Forever. That's how you often found yourself observing and admiring every single interaction your husband made with your baby, and that’s how you ended up listening attentively as he continued to talk so passionately and earnestly with her, while simultaneously attempting to work with his free arm to the best of his abilities.

She, at one point, got so ecstatic that she accidentally thrusted her arm forward and hit him in the face with that spoon. But he only turned to look at you with an affectionate smile.

Struggling through a fit of giggles, you slipped the wooden object from her grasp and gave her a big kiss; making sure to squish her doughy cheeks—a trait that she definitely got from her father, “No more hitting mama and papa for you!”

The little girl’s squeaks only got louder as she reached out with her arms towards you, addressing you with more words of her very own and special language.

“Family hug?” you asked, glancing at a grinning Yoongi.

“Family hug!” He wrapped his free arm around you, bringing your body closer so that Nara could get a hold of you as well, then added, “but let’s make it a short one or else my parents are going to come to a burnt dinner.”

[m4rv3l-girl]

“You Made a List?” - (Knife Play)

Bucky x Y/N

Y/N made an interesting to-do list, Bucky wants to tick them all off..

Requests Open!

Warnings: Smut. Knife play. Blood.

Bucky sat on the edge of his bed in the quiet apartment he shared with Y/N. The room was a stark contrast to his tumultuous past; white walls, a simple wooden bedframe, and a single framed picture of them together on a shelf. He stared at the floor, his mind racing with the day's events. He had been out on patrol, a routine mission that had ended with him saving a cat from a tree. A small victory in the grand scheme of things, but it brought him back to the comfort of their shared space.

Y/N walked in, her hair still damp from a recent shower, a towel wrapped around her body. She noticed the tension in Bucky's shoulders and the furrow in his brow. "Rough day?" she asked, her voice a gentle caress in the stillness.

Bucky looked up and offered a forced smile. "It's nothing," he said, not meeting her eyes. He didn't want to burden her with his past, not when they had worked so hard to build their life together. But she knew him too well.

She saw right through the facade and moved closer, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Her touch was electric, grounding him in the present. He took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of her hand seep into his skin. "I found something," he began, his voice low and tentative. He reached under the bed and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

Her eyes widened as she recognized her own handwriting. "Oh, that," she said, her cheeks flushing pink. "It's just a little list I made, you know, for fun." The words 'Things to try in the bedroom' were scribbled across the top in a playful scrawl.

“You made a list?” He mused. Scanning the items, his eyebrow raising at each suggestion. "Knife play," he read out loud, unable to keep the amusement from his voice. "That's the first one?"

Y/N looked at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, it's not like we're going to try all of them in one go," she said with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. "I was just….curious"

Bucky's eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of doubt or fear. When he found none, only excitement and trust, he felt his own anxieties dissipate. He had faced worse than knives in his life; this was a game they could play together, safely. "Alright," he said, setting the list on the bed. "But I'm stopping if I think you don’t like it.."

Y/N leaned in, her damp hair leaving a trail of coolness against his cheek as she whispered, "You’ll do it?”

The air grew thick with anticipation as they prepared for their evening adventure. Bucky's heart raced in a way it hadn't in a long time, not from fear or battle, but from the thrill of exploring something new with the woman he loved. As they moved closer, the world outside faded away, leaving only the warmth of their shared space and the promise of an exciting night ahead.

Bucky pulled out a velvet-covered box from his nightstand, Y/N’s cheeks still flushed. Inside was an impressive assortment of knives, each one meticulously chosen for their varying sizes and shapes. They were not the weapons of war he was accustomed to, but tools of passion - items he had collected for enjoyment not for use in combat.

He picked one out, the metal cool and smooth in his hand. The blade glinted under the soft glow of the bedside lamp, and he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of excitement.

He turned to Y/N, who had dried off and donned a silk robe that clung to her curves. Her eyes searched his, looking for any sign of hesitation. He gave her a reassuring nod, and she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she felt the tension in the room shift. He approached her, the knife held delicately between his thumb and forefinger.

Tracing the line of the knife along the edge of her jaw, he watched as her eyes fluttered closed, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

His touch was feather-light, a stark contrast to the cold steel. He moved down her neck, the blade barely grazing her skin, sending shivers down her spine. Each stroke was precise, calculated, as if he were mapping out the landscape of her body with the sharp tip.

Her heart thumped in her chest, the rhythm echoing in her ears. She felt the warmth of his breath against her neck as he whispered, "You're sure?" Y/N nodded, the anticipation building like a crescendo. Bucky continued, the knife moving in a gentle pattern down her collarbone and over the swell of her breasts, her body responding to his every move with a symphony of goosebumps.

With the utmost care, he slipped the knife between her robe and her skin, the cold metal pressing against her hardening nipple, drawing out a soft whimper. He watched her closely, reading her reactions like a book.

When she didn’t flinch, he began to feel more at ease.

He knew he could trust her, and she knew she could trust him. They had been through so much together, and this was just another chapter in their story – one of exploration and growth.

He continued to trace her body with the knife, the sensation both thrilling and terrifying. But with each pass, the fear melted away, leaving only desire in its wake. The tension in the room was palpable, a living thing that coiled around them, tightening with every shallow breath she took.

Y/N’s eyes remained closed, lost in the sensation of Bucky’s gentle touch. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced, a dance of control and vulnerability that brought them closer together. The coolness of the metal was a stark contrast to the heat building between them, and she felt every inch of her skin come alive.

As the tip of the knife circled her navel, she gasped, the sensation shooting straight to her core.

Bucky paused, looking for her consent. She opened her eyes and met his gaze, nodding again. He continued, the knife gliding over her hips, her stomach, each movement a silent promise of what was to come.

When the tip of the metal finally slipped past her pubic bone, it grazed the sensitive peak of her clit, she inhaled sharply.

The feeling was indescribable, a mix of excitement and trepidation that had her body trembling. He watched her, his eyes dark with desire, as he began to carefully stroke her with the cold blade. The pressure was just right, not too much, but enough to send waves of pleasure rushing through her.

Her knees grew weak, and she reached out to grip the edge of the bed for support. Bucky noticed her reaction, his own arousal spiking at the sight of her vulnerability. He stroked her clit in a slow, deliberate motion, the knife serving as an extension of his touch. The metal was cold against her hot, wet skin, sending shivers through her body that only heightened her sensitivity.

"Sit still," he murmured, his voice gruff with need. "I don't want to hurt you."

Y/N whined softly, her body straining against the delicious torment he was inflicting. The combination of fear and pleasure was intoxicating, a heady cocktail that had her teetering on the edge. She knew Bucky would never harm her, but the thrill of the knife’s serrated edge up against her delicate flesh was undeniable.

Bucky watched her closely, his own need growing with each gasp she made. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, could see the way her nipples pebbled against the silk of her robe. He knew she was close, so he decided to give her what she wanted – a little more. He teased her clit with the blade, moving it in a slow, up and down motion that had her hips bucking and her breath coming in ragged pants.

Her eyes snapped open, and she met his gaze, pleading for more.

He could see the desire in her eyes, the impatience warring with the fear. With a smirk, he flipped the knife in his hand, the handle now pointing upward. He held it out to her, the metal slick with her arousal. "Suck it," he ordered, his voice low and firm.

Y/N took the handle into her mouth, her eyes never leaving his and she moaned around it as she took it deep. Her hands came up to wrap around his wrist, guiding him as she sucked and licked, her tongue swirling around the handle. Bucky's grip tightened, his own excitement growing as he felt her mouth enveloping the knife.

When he was satisfied with her preparation, he slowly removed the handle from her mouth and brought it back down to her clit, now slick with her juices and her own saliva. He teased her again, the wetness from her mouth adding to the sensitivity. She was panting now, her body begging for release.

"Bucky, please," she whimpered, her grip on the bed tightening.

With a wicked smile, he positioned the handle at her entrance, the metal cool and hard against her heat.

Y/N took a sharp breath as Bucky pushed the handle of the knife slowly inside her. It filled her in a way that was both strange and incredibly erotic. She felt stretched, the sensation of cold steel penetrating her, and she knew that he could feel her tightness around it.

Bucky's eyes never left hers as he began to move the handle in and out, his movements deliberate and controlled. The coldness of the metal was a stark contrast to the heat of their shared desire, and she could feel her body begin to adapt to the intrusion. It was a delicate dance of pain and pleasure, each thrust bringing her closer to the precipice she desperately sought.

Her breath grew ragged, her moans muffled by the fabric of her robe as she bit down on the material. She could feel the knot in her stomach loosening, the tension building as he fucked her with the handle. His hand was steady, his gaze intense, as if he was watching for any sign that she needed him to stop.

But she didn't.

Instead, she pushed back against him, her body begging for more.

The sound of the knife handle sliding in and out of her filled the room, a rhythmic counterpoint to their harsh breaths. Each thrust was a silent declaration of their love and trust, a testament to the bond they shared. Y/N could feel herself losing control, her hips moving in time with his hand, her body straining for release.

Bucky's eyes never left hers, his pupils dilated with desire. He watched her face contort in pleasure, the way her mouth opened in silent screams, and he knew she was close. He increased his pace, the slickness of her arousal making the handle glide in and out with ease.

She was so wet, so ready for him, and the thought sent a bolt of lust straight to his groin.

With a final, desperate thrust, she shattered around the handle, her orgasm ripping through her body like a supernova. Her nails dug into the bed, her back arched, and she cried out, her voice hoarse and raw. "Such a pretty slut, doll," Bucky murmured, his voice thick with approval. He watched her ride the wave, her body quivering with the aftershocks of pleasure.

Y/N's eyes flew open, meeting his gaze as she came down from her peak.

She felt a flush of pride at his words, her heart racing with a mix of love and lust. He had called her that before, but tonight, it felt different. It was as if he were praising her in the most erotic way for trusting him, for letting go of her inhibitions. She knew he meant it as a term of endearment, a declaration of his admiration for her openness.

Y/N nodded, feeling a thrill of excitement. "Yes, I want-…" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "What do you want me to do?"

The words came out before she could even think them through. "Carve your initials into me," she said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. "I want to carry a piece of you with me."

Bucky's eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of doubt.

When he found none, he took the knife in his hand, his movements deliberate and precise. He leaned over and kissed her softly, his breath mingling with hers. "Where?" he asked roughly, his voice thick with anticipation.

"My thigh," she murmured, pointing to the spot she had chosen. It was a place she could easily hide if needed, but also somewhere she could see every day, a constant reminder of this night.

With a deep breath and a moment of contemplation, Bucky took the knife and pressed the tip to her skin. “Tell me to stop, Doll.” He pleaded feeling a depraved arousal at this.

���Don’t you dare.” She stated.

She felt the pinprick of pain as the metal broke through the surface, a sharp contrast to the gentle kisses he peppered along her neck. He began to trace the first letter, the 'J', his hand steady despite the tremor that had taken hold of his body.

The cut of the knife peircing through her skin was faint but distinct, a testament to his skill and control.

The pain grew more intense as he moved on to the 'B', the sensation of the blade carving through her flesh sending another shockwave of pleasure through her.

She bit her lip, her eyes watering as she watched him, his focus unwavering. When he reached the 'B', she felt the sting of the blade a bit deeper, and she couldn't help but gasp.

Immediately, Bucky's mouth was on the wound, his tongue darting out to lick away the bead of blood that had formed. The sensation was indescribable, a mix of pain and pleasure that sent her spiraling into another orgasm. In an unexpected throb of agony and ecstasy, her thigh muscle clenched repeatedly under his ministrations.

He kissed the spot tenderly, his eyes never leaving hers.

As the initials 'J.B.B' began to take shape on her skin, she felt a sense of belonging, a mark of ownership that she craved. She knew that she had just given him a piece of herself, and that he had accepted it, claimed it even, was intoxicating.

When he was done, he pulled away, his eyes searching hers for any signs of regret. But all he saw was a look of pure, unadulterated bliss. He couldn’t believe the trust she had in him, the willingness she had to submit to his desires.

It was a heady feeling, one that made him feel alive in a way he hadn't felt in a very long time.

They sat there for a moment, their bodies entwined, the room silent except for the sound of their ragged breaths. Then, Bucky leaned in and kissed her again, his tongue sliding into her mouth, tasting her, claiming her. This was their secret, their shared moment of power and passion, and it bound them together in a way that nothing else could.

The night was still young, and they a few long hours ahead of them. But for now, they basked in the afterglow of their first successful experiment, their hearts racing in sync, their bodies craving more. They were a team, united in their love and their desire to explore the boundaries of their relationship.

And as Bucky held her, feeling the pulse of her blood beneath his fingertips, he knew that no matter where the night took them, they would face it together, unshackled by fear or doubt. They had each other, and that was all that mattered.

——————————————————————————————————

Part 2 - (Temperature Play)

——————————————————————————————————So, what did you guys think? Your comments really help me to cater my writing to what you enjoy! 🫶

[awkward-walking-potato]

Claws and Whiskers

Sequel - Claws paws and whiskers

What happens when you bring a cat home to logan.

wolverine x reader

My inbox is open to requests for any X-men

The day you brought the cat home, you weren't entirely sure how Logan would react. The little furball had shown up at your door one rainy afternoon, a scrappy-looking tabby with a fierce attitude and a pair of bright, defiant eyes. It reminded you of someone you knew all too well.

Logan was out when you arrived with the cat tucked into your jacket. As you dried the little creature off and set up a makeshift bed in the corner of the living room, you could already picture the scowl on his face. Logan wasn’t exactly known for being a cat person—or much of an animal person, for that matter.

When Logan finally walked through the door, his boots thudding heavily against the wooden floor, the cat immediately bolted under the couch, hissing as it went.

Logan raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and the couch. “What the hell is that?”

“His name is Scratch,” you said, trying not to laugh at the irony of the situation. “I found him outside. He’s staying with us for a while.”

Logan crossed his arms, his expression dubious. “You sure that’s a good idea? Looks like he’s ready to tear my face off.”

“He’s just scared. Give him some time,” you said, moving closer to place a hand on Logan’s arm. “Besides, I think you two have more in common than you realize.”

Logan snorted, but didn’t argue. “Right. I’ll be in the garage if you need me. And try to keep that thing from scratching up my bike.”

The first few days were tense. Scratch seemed to go out of his way to avoid Logan, glaring at him from across the room or darting out of sight whenever Logan entered. Logan, for his part, gave the cat plenty of space, though you caught him grumbling under his breath more than once when Scratch knocked something over or decided to use the corner of the couch as a scratching post.

But despite their rocky start, you noticed small changes over time. Logan would leave the room with a plate of food, only to return later with the plate empty and Scratch sitting suspiciously close by. He started talking to the cat in his gruff, no-nonsense way, like he was trying to make a point about something important. And Scratch, ever the stubborn little creature, would sit there with his tail flicking, pretending not to care.

One evening, you came home late from work, exhausted and ready to collapse into bed. As you walked into the living room, you froze, the sight in front of you almost too good to be true.

There, on the sofa, Logan was stretched out with one arm draped over his eyes, fast asleep. And curled up on his chest, purring softly, was Scratch. The cat’s tiny body rose and fell with Logan’s steady breathing, his claws kneading gently against Logan’s shirt as if he had finally found a safe place to rest.

You couldn't help but smile as you quietly set your things down and moved closer. The sight of the two of them together—both tough and rough around the edges, but undeniably soft when it mattered—warmed your heart. You leaned down to brush a kiss against Logan’s forehead, careful not to disturb him.

Logan stirred slightly, his arm slipping from his eyes as he blinked up at you. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep. “What time is it?”

“Late,” you whispered back, your fingers running through his hair. “I see you two have made peace.”

Logan glanced down at the cat, a small, almost sheepish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, well… turns out he’s not so bad.”

You chuckled softly. “I knew you’d come around. You’re more alike than you think.”

Logan rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, his hand coming up to gently scratch behind Scratch’s ears. The cat responded with a deep, contented purr, snuggling closer into Logan’s chest.

You watched them for a moment longer before straightening up. “Come on, let’s get you both to bed.”

“Nah,” Logan murmured, settling back into the couch. “We’re good here. You go ahead.”

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded, leaning down to kiss him again, this time on the lips. “Goodnight, Logan. Goodnight, Scratch.”

As you walked down the hall to your bedroom, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace wash over you. Logan might have been tough as nails, with a lifetime of scars to prove it, but there was no denying the softness he kept hidden beneath all that gruff exterior. And Scratch—well, he was just a cat. But in some strange, wonderful way, he had managed to find a place in both your hearts.

And as you drifted off to sleep, you knew that the three of you—claws, fangs, and all—were exactly where you were meant to be.

[holybibly]

Today's unholy hours, bunnies

"This is exactly what you wanted, doll. Isn't it? Just what you need. Am I right?" Yeosang whispered in your ear, his deep, husky voice sending a shiver down the length of your spine.

The sound of your soft, half-choked moaning rang out in the evening silence of the practically empty library. The corner behind the tall bookshelves provided enough privacy for the two of you at this late hour, hiding you from the staff and other students who might accidentally wander into the most remote section of the Ancient Korean Literature section.

Yeosang's sneering laugh is accompanied by a particularly hard thrust of his hips while his cold, hard hands press you more firmly against the wooden table.

"And what? I'm not going to get a single sarcastic comment from you to answer that, bunny? The cat's got your tongue."

Any attempt at a reply or contradiction is cut short by the powerful, deep thrusts of Yeosang's hips as he drives his thick, wiry cock deeper into your screaming, needy cunt. He was fucking you so hard and so fast that it practically knocked all the air out of your lungs.

You hated him. You hated him so fucking much, but the feeling was stronger than you. Yeosang was making you crazy, and trying to deny feeling attracted to him was just stupid.

You wanted to turn away from the wicked, sneering grin on the handsome blond sempai's face, but he wouldn't let you. Yoe kept your fierce, defiant gaze on his angelic face, digging his fingers into your soft cheek and covering your mouth with his palm, so that you could barely breathe, choking on your own moans as Yeosang continued to fuck you mercilessly.

"Such obedience; I like you much more like this, doll~"

Your hands clutched at his shirt, crumpling the once perfectly ironed fabric, your nails scratching across his collarbones and the bulging muscles of his chest, leaving bright red scratches on his skin, when you rolled your eyes at the feeling of the orgasm that was about to come. Fuck, it was too good to be true, and you knew full well that you'd be kicking yourself for it afterwards, but fuck, Yeosang was fucking divine.

Who would have thought that your angelic sempai, Kang Yeosang, could be a real freak in bed?

You couldn't even make a sound of protest—just a whimper as he slowed his movements, denying you pleasure for the third time today. Fucking bastard. Your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as you squirmed in your seat, letting out a muffled, frustrated moan that was too loud, even though Yeosang was still covering your mouth with his hand. The sharp sensation of your orgasm slowly began to fade into a small, pulsating stream of pleasure.

You were so wet you were probably sitting in a puddle of your own slime, judging by the nasty squelching sound you heard when Yeosang's cock was halfway out of your cunt. The amusement that danced in his foxy hazel eyes was so obvious and only grew as you raised your tearful puppy eyes up to him, and your coarseness and defiance dissolved into a silent plea for him to finally let you cum.

"Oh, wilful little slut wants to cum? Not such a cheeky little thing anymore, Y/N, eh? I told you to be quiet, doll. If you want to finally come on my cock, be quiet; otherwise, I'll be the one who cum tonight." That's how deep and sultry his voice was; it was just illegal. How could you resist him?

You nod desperately at what he says, and Yeosang responds by smiling smugly. The sweet expression on his face hides his sinister intentions as he begins to move again, this time with an even harder and more brutal thrust. His taut balls slap against your pussy with each rhythmic movement, and you bite his hand, causing the handsome sempai to hiss slightly in pain.

"You little bitch..." Yeosang hissed, changing the angle of his movements so that the head of his thick cock was now hitting your sweet spot with every thrust, and this time he had no intention of stopping.

You tensed, feeling the almost painful throbbing of your approaching orgasm, your eyes rolling back as wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure washed over you, shaking you to the core. For all your hatred of Yeosang, it was worth it. His cock was made of fucking gold.

His moans were barely audible as you clenched around his cock, his warm, thick seed staining the walls of your womb, and your pussy seemed to pull him even deeper in and hold him there, clinging tightly to the velvety length of his cock. All your senses were overloaded with pleasure, and every heavy sigh and every growling wheeze that Yeosang emitted seemed to prolong your orgasm, driving you deeper and deeper into a state of euphoria until you felt no connection to your body and black dots began to dance before your eyes.

When you finally managed to regain consciousness, you were lying on his lap, and your clothes had been returned to the tidy state they had been in before. You looked lazily around, still feeling heavy and unable to move. You rolled your eyes in annoyance as your still slightly unfocused gaze fell on the book in his hand.

"Are you serious, Yeosang? Classical poetry? You've just fucked my brains out, and you're still behave yourself like a good boy? Of course, the exemplary sempai, Kang Yeosang."

"Ah, now that cheeky mouth of yours is back again. I guess you haven't learned your lesson, doll; you have to be quiet in the library."

[untoldstar]

yandere! emperor x fem concubine! reader x fem yandere! concubine

You’ve been chosen to be one of the emperors concubines. You still have no idea why on earth they would choose you. Apparently the emperor has taken notice of you and demanded to have you added to his harem of concubines. With the emperor himself insisting on it being you, you had little room for refusal.

And that’s how you found yourself here, being escorted into a large lounge like room, the floors covered in silk throws and pillows with women sprawled on top. Some naked, some half dressed, and others covered in silk robes. They eyed you as you walk in their gazes half filled with curiosity and half filled with disdain.

In the back you see a woman lounging with pillows all around her arranged in a way where she’s propped up comfortably, her slender pale body covered in flawless flowing red silk. Her gaze meets yours and and her lips stretch into an almost feline-like smile. She ushers you closer and you comply. Forcing your legs to keep going when they stiffen under everyone’s stare, their eyes following your across the room as if they’re the lions and you just walked into their den.

“You’re the girl the emperor requested.” you dumbly nodded not opting to say anything yet. Her eyes scan you, amusement and curiosity spreading through her face “How interesting..” She mutters before patting the space beside her. You think that gesture must have meant something significant because just at that moment the intensity in the room melts away and you feel all the watchful gazes that were trained on your back drift away making your shoulders visibly relax.

You sit beside her, your body much more stiff and closed in on itself in comparison to her leisurely sprawled body that reminds you of a lazy cat “He caused quite a fuss to have you here, which means you are important. So, I will be the one to teach you.” Your brows pinch and you start fidgeting with your finger “Teach..me?” She raises a brow “Yes, teach you. I’m in his favor. And since it seems you have certain significance to him you will be taught under the very best.” A smug smile pulls at her lips and it only adds to the uneasiness in your chest “And you’ll be teaching me..what exactly?” A small frown creases between her brows at your words. She leans closer lowering her voice, her flowery perfume enveloping you “You are aware of what it is to be a concubine, yes? Of what you must do?” A deep blush creeps up your face much to her amusement and you hesitantly nod “Yes! yes I..I’m aware of what I must do.” She nods curtly “That is what i’ll be teaching you. Along with other things so you can satisfy him. I cannot send you to his chamber as the stuttering red faced mess you are right now. No- I shall transform you.” Mischief glints in her eyes and you worry over what will become of you the longer you stay her. She suddenly stands up, her shoulders square with conviction “No better time to start than the present.” She nods her head at you and turns around, the silk flowing around her and causing that flowery perfume to waft over to you once again.

Still a little dazed and weary you get up and follow her into your new life.

“This is my sleeping chamber.” She pushes the double doors open gesturing around her to the wide tidy space. Your eyes scan the room in awe. The bed covered in heavy soft sheets. Thick expensive rugs under your feet. All the fabrics painted in beautiful pink and lavenders colors with golden threads intertwined creating beautiful designs. Your eyes land on the wooden vanity covered with expensive looking perfumes, jewelry and different containers felt with powders. She gestures towards the soft cushioned chair in front of it “Take a seat so we can begin our work. He’ll want to see you today.” You jerk “Today?! Isn’t it soon..Shouldn’t I be more prepared?” She doesn’t look the least bit concerned or amused instead she gestures towards the chair again and you comply “He can be a bit impatient at times” A small smiles pulls at the corner of her lips. She pulls a small glass box and a brush without even looking, seemingly have done this a dozen times before. She gets to work on your face and the both of you fall into silence the only sounds are those of different brushes gliding across your face. As she focuses on her work you can’t help but admire her appearance. Soft fair skin, red as blood lips, long black silky hair. Her beauty reminded you that of a siren. Glorious but deadly. You are brought out of your daze when she tips your chin up with two slender fingers smiling proudly at her work “He’s always had an eye for beautiful things..” Your cheeks heat up and you feel the urge to return the compliment because she’s enough proof of her words but you think she already knows that “Now. How about we get you some different clothes hm?”

After you were given silk robes similar to the ones the other women you saw earlier wore she lead you back into the same room “Now you can rest here and do what you like until he calls for you. The girls spend most of their time here.” You nod and from your peripherals you see a girl make here way to you both, her gaze fixed on you in interest “My my~ You did well Ruby. I hardly recognized her.” She says in a sultry feminine voice and reaches a hand to tip your chin up when Ruby swats it away “Of course. That shouldn’t be surprising not the least bit to you.” You catch a hint of annoyance in her voice and the other girl doesn’t seem fazed instead she smiles at Ruby as though the both shared a secret before turning to you again, stepping closer, far too close for your own comfort “Why don’t you come sit with me? I’ll introduce you to the other girls and we can have some tea to calm your nerves.” Ruby lifts a hand and grips your shoulder a little too tight and the girls gaze slides to your shoulder “She’s quite fine with me.” She must have seen something in Ruby that made her relent. Simply crossing her arms and stepping back with a sly smile on her face “Fine. Maybe we’ll have our fun later~” She purrs and side steps both of you making Ruby scoff.

Ruby’s grip on you hadn’t loosened after that until you were sitting snug right beside her. Where she could keep an eye on you and make sure no one else was preying on you.

You felt odd between them. Unfamiliar. They looked like strange creatures to you. Would you truly become the same one day? You couldn’t even imagine having the same confident and seductive energy they do. You wonder if they were like you when they were first brought here.

And the expensive silk on your skin feels foreign. Soft and cool against you. It felt quite nice. Now that was something you could definitely get used to.

You tried to relax and calm your nerves. Sitting more comfortably, enjoying tea and pawing at the different selections of fruits. Ruby didn’t talk to you much so you mostly observed how she interacted with the other girls. They truly liked her. Swarming her, throwing compliments at her left and right, gushing over her beauty. Although she was sitting on the same cushioned floors they were you could almost see her sitting on a high throne instead with the way she was revered. The emperor must really favor her “You have a terrible habit of staring don’t you?” You jerk “Oh! I’m sorry I didn’t mean-“ She swats a hand in disinterest “I don’t care for apologies.” Your jaw snaps with an audible click and Ruby shift so she’s facing you “I take it you’re more comfortable now yes?” You nod and give her a small smile “Yes much more. I’ll admit I felt like I was going to faint from the nerves when I first stepped a foot in here. I’m sure everyone could see it on my face.” You huff a laugh and look down at the cup of tea between your palms in embarrassment “That’s not enough.” You lift your head up and are met with a hard stare “..What is?” She lets out an exasperated sigh “That’s not enough for me. I need you to be better than this…Come closer.” You set down the cup and shift closer to her “Don’t be shy now. A little closer.” You can’t help but comply her order. She still doesn’t look satisfied as she leans her face close to yours “Hmm no I can’t have you embarrass me. After all everything you do is a direct reflection of me from now on..” She brushes a thumb against your bottom lip before closing her eyes and capturing your lips, humming in satisfaction “I haven’t tasted something so sweet in a long time~” Her hand drifts down to your hip squeezing gently. She trails a soft kiss down to your chin “Tilt your head back..That’s it good~” She kisses down your neck making you let out delicious little gasps. Your eyelids flutter open and you see a few pairs of eyes on you “Everyone is-“ She hums and leaves sloppy kisses on your shoulder making the robe fall to side and painting the perfect lewd picture “That’s alright~ They won’t bother us.” One of her hands tug the ribbon of your robe, the fabric slowly loosens around your body and you feel heat igniting in you. Your breath growing shallow with a strange excitement that’s abruptly interrupted when her movements halt. You look down to see her head turned to the side. An irritated look on her face. She reached to cover you and arrange your robe elegantly again “Oh~It seem he just called for you..”

“And I was just starting to have fun.”

[v1x3n]

S T E R E O T Y P I C A L

simon 'ghost' riley x reader ⸝⸝ navigation

୨୧ 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 : a serial killer haunts your town, but unfortunately for you there had to be one classic dumb, hot girl!

୨୧ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 : angst (?) - serial killer, stupid moves that would piss you off, subtle pantie stealing, knocked out.

you saw the news, all the stories online, you saw how everyone in the uk were panicked at the unknown serial killer going around. missing people rocked up dead, all around where you lived. your town was scared shitless.

you were scared, everyone had their doors and windows constantly locked. no one was out on the streets due to fear, the wind whistled and the town was near silent. weapons were handed out, you gripped hard onto a knife as you hear a loud bang outside. peaking through the window just to see your neighbours cat rummaging through a fallen bin. you groan and quickly look along to street, you knew it was a stupid move but you unlocked the front door.

stupid pretty girl move in a horror movie, right?

you tip toe outside, knife still held tight in your hand and you run over to grab the kitty. she meows and licks your fingers, you kiss the top of her head, "what you doing out here" grumbling to the cat, stomping back over to the house. stepping back inside and slamming the door back into place. plopping the kittycat onto the wooden floors so you could lock the door, "cmon baby" you coo and bend down to pet the cat. "ill get you some food, hm?" lightly walking into your kitchen.

opening up your fridge and pulling out some chicken from last night, you pull out a few pieces, placing them onto a plate and putting said plate onto the floor. clinking the side of the dish so the fluffy cat came running.

the cute little kitty was your neighbours cat, oreo, black and white little thing. her fur was fluffy and soft, slightly damp currently due to it rummaging through all the bins in the street and other shenanigans she would get up too. she was very cuddly and loved you, she constantly showed up at your door or in your garden, at your window.

you look over at the cat and smile at her chomping away, grabbing a small bowl and filling it up with cold water. placing it beside her.

sighing whilst looking through your kitchen window, glancing at the cat and you let out a second sigh. looking down at the the phone you pulled from your pocket. it was midnight, time for bed i guess.

soon you make sure the kitty is okay before heading upstairs. an eyebrow raises as you have a bad feeling deep in your stomach as you step through your bedroom door. peaking in and letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

walking back to your bed and grabbing the clothes you had scrupled up on your bed to take downstairs after your shower. the cute jeans, the small tank top, your scratty bra you needed to replace andd... your panties. which were misplaced. odd.

you look around your room, maybe you had dropped them? but after you check, nothing. you sigh, okay, that's fine. you're clumsy and had better things on your mind right now, you probably put them somewhere else whilst thinking of that psycho. yeah, thats sounds like you.

trotting back downstairs with your dirty washing in hand, oreo screeches. "hey hey, what's wrong " you mutter and bend over to pick up the kitty. cuddling her in your arms, walking through the kitchen to put away the clothes. you plop them in the washing machine and pepper the top of the cats head with kisses. "big scaredy cat, ain't ya?" cooing at the kitty , turning your eyes over to the living room before you started walking back in. "cmon kitty kitty" you softly say, your eyes look up at the front door. wait. you could've sworn you locked the door. the wooden door peaked up, a gust of air slipping through the slip in the door. you drop the cat, quickly looking down to see if the cat was okay - she was, so your eyes so back to the door. you quickly slam it shut, locking it up once more.

"hello?" you call out, stupid move. a creaking sounded from your stairs while you carefully step up them. water fills your eyes and you grab your phone, it dropping instantly to the floor as you jump, the sound of a deep booming voice pops out from behind you, "hello sweeth'art" you turn around and you sniffle, going to step back but the man steps forward you, "don't be scared" he mockenly coos.

you take a good look at the man, a scary mask plastered on his face and his whole body covered in black. fuck, he was big though. muscles making the dirty clothes almost rip, the only piece of skin showing was his eyes, gorgeous light brown eyes that stared into your soul. his pupils dialated at the sight of the poor girl, crying in front of him. so so scared. you peer down at his hand as it raises towards you, making you flinch back and run up the stairs. quickly sprinting to your room and slamming the door shut. looking down at your hand to see that, fuck, you dropped your phone. slight banging could be heard from outside, it was probably just him walking, he was fucking humongous. "hide and seek? fun" he chuckles, grabbing a lamp he found from a table in the hallway. he knocks your door and you scramble to the corner of the room, tears flow uncontrollably from your tear ducts.

after moments of silence, he jolts the door and it creaks open, you knew you should've gotten more locks. you sob in the corner as his shoes step forward.you meet eyes with him - sight trailing down to the lamp in his hand. he instantly sees you cuddled up in the corner, crying your eyes out. "love, divnt cry, to pretty f' tha'" he steps forward once more until eventually he was in front of you, he kneels down. you push your face away from him, "look at me, hun"

you sniffle once more and your fingers clench onto the ground below you. the masked man grabs your chin and forced you to look up at him, "gorgoeus thing" he hums.

"you know what?"

"w-what" you whisper.

"yer a doll, might keep you." was all you could hear before an object, the lamp, hits the side of your head. effectively knocking you out - your body slumps to the side.

[lordprettyflackotara]

Hitchhiker || Chapter Seventeen || The Proxies

tw: SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. breeding kink

<— previous chapter

Tim blinked slowly, taking a deep breath as he gained consciousness. His vision was blurry, his breath jagged and shallow as he attempted to inhale. A sharp pain rose in his chest as he did so, a grunt falling off of his lips. As his vision settled he went to sit up, ignoring the overly blinding lights. “Slow down,” Jacks voice ordered, the demons large hands grabbing his shoulders firmly. He guided Tim to lay back down, his chest aching as he did so. “Y-you look like shit,” Toby’s voice commented. Tim blinked a few times, his hazy vision settling as he looked over at the youngest proxy.

“What’s the verdict doc?” Tim huffed, ignoring Toby’s comment. Jack swung his examination lamp away from Tim, allowing the brunette to see better. “Cat Hunter’s claws dug into a good layer of your muscle. Luckily for you he didn’t make it past your ribcage,” Jack explained. Tim gritted his teeth as he propped himself up on his elbows. “Meaning what?” He asked. Jack tilted his head to the side curiously. “Meaning none of your organs were affected. They’re still as edible as can be,” Jack quipped, sarcasm lacing his words. Tim looked down at his chest, thick bandages wrapped around his torso. “Toby pack your shit. We have to find Y/n and Hoodie,” He grunted, attempting to get up again. Jack and Toby exchanged looks, before returning their sights back to Tim.

“Tim relax, everything is fine.”

“Relax? That Cat fuck is still out there and so is my girl you dipshit. Toby get moving-”

Jacks harsh voice cut him off before he could ramble orders any further, “Cat Hunter is dead. She killed him.”

Tim felt his blood run cold. “S-she what?” He stuttered. He looked at Toby for confirmation, as if Jack was playing some sick joke. Toby gave him a confirming nod. Many thoughts swirled around Tim’s head. “B-beheaded h-h-him,” Toby elaborated, his neck twitching profusely to the left side. Tim’s eyes widened, his brain racking itself. He didn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe it. “Where is she?” Tim asked, throwing the lousy sheet that covered his lower half off of him. He was silently grateful he was still in jeans. “Upstairs with Nova. Brian’s watching them,” Jack said, attempting to comfort him with his words. He watched as Tim hissed in pain, forcing himself to sit up and get off of the cot.

“Tim I cannot advise you to be moving around like this. You need to lay down,” Jack told him. Tim clenched his jaw, his head pounding as he stood on his feet. “Like hell I will. She needs me,” He grunted. Toby attempted to block the stairway, his arms spread wide. “T-Tim you n-need to s-s-sit down,” He protested. Tim shoved his arm away, trudging past him. “And you need to get the hell out of my way kid,” He argued, forcing himself up the stairs. He gripped the hand rail for support, grunting in pain as he hoisted himself up. The brunette forced himself onto the main floor, his eyes scanning the room for you. “Brian? Where the hell is she?” Tim called out, his voice echoing off of the wooden walls. Brian rushed down the stairs, grabbing Tim’s arm and throwing it around his shoulders. “Tim? What the hell are you doing up?” He questioned.

Tim guided him to the staircase, the pair walking up the stairs to the bedrooms. “I need to see her. How is she?” He asked. Brian bit the inside of his cheek. “Truthfully? She’s torn up. Hasn’t left the bed she’s in. Won’t say much. Won’t eat,” He explained. They made it to the top of the stairs, Tim shoving Brian’s arm off. “Is anyone with her?” Tim questioned. They stood outside of the guest bedroom door, Tim leaning against the wall for support. “Nova is,” Brian answered. The brunette clenched his jaw. “Tell her she needs to step out,” He said. Brian raised his eyebrows. “Step out? And do what? She almost lost function in her goddamn fingers,” He protested. Tim narrowed his eyes, shooting him a dirty look. “She can go ride Jacks dick for all I care. I need a moment alone with Y/n,” Tim huffed. Brian frowned, pushing past him and opening the door.

You were facing the window, Nova facing the opposite direction. You both were lying in the bed, the room completely silent even upon the boys entry. Nova’s eyes were empty, blankly staring at the wooden wall in front of her. Heavy bags hung under her eyes, her fingers completely bandaged. They appeared to be blood soaked, Tim now trying to conceal his distaste for the sight. “Cmon Nova you need to get your bandages changed, EJ’s in the lab downstairs,” Brian said, cocking his head towards the door. What was failed to be mentioned to Tim, was the guilt Brian and Hoodie felt. Brian was a walking bag of guilt, constantly monitoring you out of fear he wasn’t taking care of you enough. He never wanted that for you, no matter how much Hoodie thought it was better for Cat Hunter to be dead. For an innocent like you to be on the other end of the hatchet made him sick to his stomach. His goal was always to protect you, not to turn you into a killer.

However Brian wasn’t good with his words, unsure of what to say to you. Especially after everything was all said and done. Instead he watched over you silently, trying to get you to eat and bathe like a normal human being. Nova emotionlessly slid out of bed, her lips cracked and bleeding from the harsh weather and being stuck together for so long. She mindlessly wondered past Tim and Brian, heading down the stairs obediently. Tim gave his partner a nod, slipping into the room. Once he heard the click of the door shutting, it took everything in him to not throw himself at you. “Princess? It’s me,” Tim said. He approached your side of the bed, your expression almost mirroring Nova’s. That is, if it weren’t for your puffy eyes and red face. The dry splatters of Cat Hunter’s blood still stained your cheeks, the crimson paint now a dried brown.

Your eyes met his, your orbs glassy and filled with sorrow. You threw the blanket off of you, throwing your arms around his neck. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” You mumbled into his shoulder, nuzzling yourself into his neck. Tim’s face scrunched up in pain, the brunette using all of the strength he had left to conceal painful noises that threatened to claw their way out of his throat. “Me? I’m glad you’re okay,” Tim replied, emphasizing his worry about you and you alone. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. Your hair was unbrushed and unkept. You knew you looked like shit, but Tim seemed to see right through it. He slowly pulled back, cupping your face in his hands. “When I was lying in the snow, watching you run off, do you know what I thought to myself?” He asked you softly. You blinked as you looked up at him, your emotions running so high you didn’t notice your waterline flooding with tears.

“I thought I was dying and all I could think about was how I never got to tell you that I love you. And I do. I really fuckin do,” Tim said. The salty tears escaped your waterline, traveling down your cheeks. Tim wiped them away with his thumbs. “Tim-” You started, at a loss for words. He placed his thumb over your lips, stopping you. “Dont. Don’t say anything. You don’t have to say it back. I just have to let you know. I love you,” He whispered. He stroked your cheeks with his thumbs lovingly, admiring you as he looked down at you. Unsurely you brought yourself closer to him, your eyes fluttering shut as you planted your lips on his. Tim never thought of himself to be a greedy man. He never thought he’d allow himself to have you. But Tim realized he would gladly earn the title of the greediest man alive if he allowed himself to have you. All of you.

He kissed you back passionately, his hands lowering themselves to your hips. He pulled you closer, ignoring the pain that throbbed in his chest as he pulled you into his lap. You straddled him, combing your fingers through his hair as you kissed him deeper. You rolled your hips against his, the brunette groaning in your mouth. “I usually take the lead during things like this princess,” Tim said, his lips refusing to stray from his. You swallowed his words eagerly, grinding down against him. “I don’t think you’re in any condition to,” You countered. You softly pushed him back on the bed, his back hitting the mattress as you shoved your shirt over your head. Tim’s pupils became blown with lust at the sight of your bare breast, your nipples growing perky from the cold air.

“Fuck me,” He mumbled, forcing himself to sit up. He brought his mouth to your left breast, sucking on your nipple. You rolled your hips against his, letting out a desperate moan as he swirled his tongue around the sensitive bud. He brought his hand to your right breast, prodding its nipple with his index and middle finger. “Fuck, Tim,” You moaned, a wet patch forming in your panties. Tim looked up at you, admiring your face as you moaned his name. He released your nipple with a pop, flipping the two of you around. He bit back a painful grunt, determined to ignore the pain in his chest. He lowered himself onto his knees, grabbing the hem of your oversized sweatpants. “You have no idea how long i’ve waited to hear you moan my name,” He confessed, pulling your pants and panties down in one swift motion. He lazily tossed them aside, spread your thighs apart with his large hands.

“Tim, please, please make me feel good. I need you,” You whined, bucking your hips upwards. Tim smirked at your pleas. “Whatever my princess wants, my princess gets,” He purred in response. He kissed your inner thighs, watching you paw at his head to come closer. Your fingers found their way in his hair, tugging him towards you. He licked a stripe up your slick, causing you to moan. Tim wrapped his arms around your hips, holding you against the bed as he attached his lips to your clit. “Fuck!” You groaned, grinding your hips against his face as best as you could under his strong grasp. His tongue was merciless, teasing your hole and flicking at your clit with ease. Your juices coated his chin, decorating the stubble that rubbed against your folds.

“Tim! So good. Feels so good. Holy fuck,” You moaned. Teasingly he grazed his teeth over your clit, causing your legs to shake under his hold. You felt a familiar knot form in your stomach, your thighs shaking against his head. He continued to lap at your cunt like a starved man, your orgasm threatening to crash down over you. “Tim i’m gonna fuckin cum, gonna cum,” You babbled. Tim held you down into the bed, forcing you to stay still as you rode out your orgasm. You moaned his name as you came against his tongue, your heart pounding as you propped yourself up on your elbows. “You look so beautiful when you cum for me,” Tim praised, emerging from between your thighs. He struggled to stand, grabbing at his bandages as he joined you on the bed.

“I don’t think you’re in any condition to do this,” You say, trying to catch your breath as he laid down beside you. Tim grabbed you by your waist, hoisting you over him. “You have no idea how long i’ve waited to get this view. I can handle it,” Tim debated. You rolled your hips against his aching cock, the tough jean fabric brushing your swollen clit. “Then lay back and relax,” You say, fiddling with his belt. You both pulled down his pants and boxers as quickly as possible, before you aligned yourself with his cock. You slowly lowered your body on his cock, whimpering as you felt yourself stretch out to accommodate his size. “So fucking tight, fuck princess,” Tim groaned, his large hands settling on your waist. He guided you to go down lower, watching as you bit your lower lip.

“Taking me so well,” Tim praised, watching your cunt eagerly swallow his cock. Once you were full sunken on his cock you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his. You whimpered in his mouth as he guided your hips to move, his cock brushing right against your g spot. Ever so slowly you began to ride him faster, leaning back to gain more momentum. To Tim you were a goddess, your tits bouncing and head tilted back. It didn’t matter that you were on top. Tim and his large hands guiding your hips had the real power. He began to fuck up into you, his fingers digging into your skin. “Such a tight pussy, fucking hell,” Tim grunted, watching you cling to his cock with every thrust. You tried to keep up with his thrust, the cord inside of your stomach tightening again. “Feel so good Tim. So so good,” You whined. You brought your hand to your clit, drawing fast circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“That’s right princess play with your clit. You’re gonna cum on my cock like a good girl,” Tim huffed. Any pain he felt in his chest was overridden by the pleasure your gummy walls provided. He watched mesmerized as your cunt clung to his cock, milking him for every drop of his cum. His thrust were merciless, abusing your cunt as he pleased. “I’m gonna cum, Tim, i’m gonna fucking cum,” You whimpered, your body so close to the edge. He gripped your skin harder, desperate to bring you to your orgasm. “Go on. Cum on my cock. Need you empty so I can fill you up,” Tim huffed. He felt your walls flutter around him at his words, his eyes widening. “You like that? You wanna have my kids? You filthy girl,” He chuckled darkly. You met his lustful gaze, whimpering. “Yes Tim, wanna have your kids,” You whined.

Tim pounded into you ruthlessly, finally bringing you to your orgasm. “So then cum princess,” He barked. His command made your body shake, your thighs trembling as you creamed around his cock. Euphoria washed over you, your heart pounding in your chest. With a few more thrust Tim was right after you, cumming deep inside of you. His warm seed flooded your cunt, filling you to the brim. You collapsed on top of him, both of you breathing heavily as you came down from your highs. He placed a kiss on your forehead, your curious eyes meeting his.

“Wanna go for round two?”

—> next chapter

[strawberrystepmom]

nsfw - minors/ageless dni i will block you. yami sukehiro x f!noble reader. oral sex (m&f implied), inexperienced but ambitious reader, slight age gap (yami is early 30’s, reader is mid 20’s) implied.

“Knew I’d find you here, kid.”

Your primly crossed ankles dangle off of the edge of the bed, hands resting atop your knees, and you turn to Yami with the prettiest snarl he has ever seen etched into your face.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? You aren’t that much older than me.”

Closing the wooden door behind him, he chuckles and slowly unbuckles his belt with one hand, letting the leather and pouch attached to it fall to the ground with an unceremonious clang. His katana rests in his other hand, given the reverence of being placed on the small desk in the corner of the otherwise unimpressive space.

It’s certainly nothing compared to your quarters at home. You imagine Yami sandwiched between your crisp, perfect linen sheets in all of his oversized glory, wiping your release off of his lips using the gauzy fabric of your canopy. A chill zips down your spine, you play it off by shifting your hips and raising a brow.

The quiet while he goes through the motions unnerves you slightly. Silence indicates comfort and that has never been part of the deal for either of you. This is fun for him, something you graciously allow him to have at your expense. For you, it’s simply a tutorial on how to be a good wife.

At least that’s what you keep telling yourself every time you hear the utterance of his name and decide to press your luck by showing up at this same old inn in the same old room the two of you have now darkened more times than you can count.

“You’re not a kid, no.” He confirms, brow raised to mirror yours, shuffling with his thighs slightly spread while unlacing the ties keeping his pants closed. This mountain of a man looms and you glance up at him over the curve of his impressively defined chest, equally curious and afraid of what he’ll say next. “But compared to me? You’re nothing but green.”

The lack of elegance elicits an eye roll from you though your eyes still and quickly to fall at where his hands are working, thick fingers teasing you with every movement. You haven’t yet reached this intimacy with him yet, instead being treated to lessons in how a man should make you feel with his mouth and fingers and by allowing you to grind against the corded muscle of his thigh. Yami has seen you completely nude, spread and wet and ready for him.

Now it’s your turn.

Blood pounds in your ears, cheeks warming at the sight of the coarse hair growing just below the waistband of his pants. You swallow, hands pressed to your knees, glancing up at him with those eyes that remind him you are both cat and mouse in your own game.

Mouse for obvious reasons, even beyond the sweet way you squeak when enough pressure builds between your thighs and in your stomach that you drench his knuckles. Cat because you keep tempting him just the same, a predator beckoning toward him sweetness that could eventually be his undoing. It’s not his problem either way, he chides himself internally.

Besides, you are positively mousy right now, eyes wide as the moon outside the one window in this room while glancing at his now visible cock. The man can’t be sure what you were expecting but he has a feeling it may have been slightly less than what he’s working with, his half hardened girth bouncing against his palm as it fills with blood.

“Now tell me, little girl,” he smirks down at you, erection still bouncing against his palm, tilting his hips near your face. “When’s the last time you played with a toy like this?”

A dark chuckle sends another shiver down your spine, the head of his cock waving antagonistically near your mouth and cheek. Your body is practically screaming at you to act, to touch him or run your tongue along that slit that looks so enticing, but your pride prevents it. You remain sitting primly, glancing at Yami for some kind of hint about how to proceed next.

Your cheeks burn with arousal and embarrassment, ashamed of your own immaturity when faced with this situation. This is why you’re here, you remind yourself. To learn and figure out how to avoid this ever happening.

“Judging by that quiet mouth I have to guess, hm, never.” Laughing at his own joke, he wraps his fist around the shaft of his cock and points it toward your mouth, brushing the head against the seam of your lips. “Don’t be shy, sweetheart. I’m not judging you. Just teachin’ you, right?”

Cheeks still burning, you scoff yet tilt yourself forward enough that his cock touches your mouth. A moan escapes before you can swallow it and you let your eyes flutter shut, keeping unshed tears from escaping and running down your face. He’d find that too rich and you won’t give him the satisfaction.

You are childish and immature and stupid and…the voice in your head clears, another filling your ears and telling you what to do.

“Stick just the tip of your tongue out for me.” It’s Yami, clearly bent at the waist and hovering just above your ear, gravelly voice replacing your own mocking internal monologue. “Just a little. You could keep your eyes shut but they’re too pretty for that and I wanna see ‘em.”

The corner of your mouth lifts in a smile. Your lashes flutter open and hazel eyes gaze into your own, pupils dilated.

“There we go. Tongue out for me, run it along the tip.” He instructs and you follow, eyes glued to him the entire time. A groan in his throat causes one in you, a breathy whine not even a partially opened mouth can obscure.

He reaches to cup your cheek, rough thumb running over the roundest part of it, entire hand sliding downward until it clutches your jaw. The touch is gentle and you relax beneath his fingers, jaw unclenching. A smirk is your reward, his other hand tapping the head of his cock against the tip of your tongue.

“I hope you’re ready to learn a thing or two tonight because I plan on keeping you busy.”

You nod, now kitten licking him of your own volition. You’ve always been praised for your ability to pick up on most anything quickly and tonight will be no exception if you have anything to do with it.

[rooksspite]

Marks of Love

Davrin x f!Rook (unnamed)

summary: after a night of too many drinks, Davrin finds Assan covered in kisses.

yes this is based off of that one meme of that girl who came home drunk and was really excited to see her cat

Davrin wakes one day with a headache and little recollection as to how he ended up in bed.

He remembers Lucanis inviting him and Rook to talk about old jobs again over a shared bottle. or 3. Honestly it could’ve been more he just couldn’t remember. After that it’s all a blur. He’s surprised he made it to bed in the first place.

With a groan he stands from his bed, wincing as he faces the open brightness of the fade. Moving sluggishly to throw on a shirt and pants before yawning and making his way to open the door of his room.

“Assan,” he calls out to the griffin sitting his usual spot. The wooden stairs creaking under his steps.

When Assan turns his head to look at him, it makes Davrin pause midstep, “what in the…”

There were specks of red dotted across Assan’s face, two on his beak, a couple on the sides of his face, even more across his forehead and the top of his head.

Davrin steps closer to get a closer look at the griffin’s face, “what happened to you buddy?” he asks softly, still struggling to fight off the last remnants of sleep. He had a number of ideas of what the marks could be, maybe the griffin snuck into the pantry to snack on berries again, or maybe he got into Emmrich’s inks.

Assan squawks as Davrin squats down to take his face in his hands, his eyes widening in realization. The spots were a very similar shade of berry red, in the shape of lips he’s grown to know all too well.

Davrin huffs out a laugh and hangs his head, “someone got some love last night.” Davrin muses, Assan only replies with a happy noise and a flap of his wings.

“Davrin,” he hears a familiar voice call. He looks up and sure enough there she is, just leaving the light house and making her way towards him. wearing the exact same shade on her lips that decorated Assan’s feathers.

“Rook,” Davrin greets, letting go of Assan’s face and standing “seems you got a bit excited to see Assan last night.”

To be fair, Rook always got excited seeing Assan, always showering him in hugs and pets whenever she walked by him. Though it seemed that alcohol released her from whatever she was holding back when it came to giving Assan affection.

“What do you- oh…” Rook pauses when she takes in the sight of Assan littered in kisses, her eyes move up to look at Davrin and he raises an eyebrow when he sees an obvious flustered look take over her features.

“Something wrong?” Davrin asks

Rook goes to speak but is cut off when the both of them hear the familiar clank of Neve’s prosthetic hitting the stone ground, “well good morning you three, have fun gossiping over your alcohol?”

Before either of them can answer, Neve takes in the scene before her and an amused smile crosses her face, “my my, just what were you two up to last night?”

Rook looks away flustered and Davrin’s confusion only grows, “what are you talking about?”

Neve smiles innocently, “nothing, I just think it’s adorable how similar you and Assan can look sometimes.”

Neve begins walking away towards the kitchen and Davrin can only furrow his eyebrows at her comment, “similar?” he turns to look down at assan again, “what are you even…” he trails off, his eyes landing on the splotches of lipstick sticking to Assan’s feathers as a look of realization crosses his face.

Suddenly he remembers drunken giggles as him and Rook leave the dining room, a cooed, “Assan!” followed by a shocked squawk and exaggerated kissing sounds.

He remembers leading Rook to her room, her turning towards him and reaching for his face, the sight of her lips moving towards him.

Slowly, Davrin reaches a hand up to his cheek, swiping at it before moving his hand back into view.

Sure enough, his fingertips were smudged with the very same berry red that covered both Assan and Rook’s lips.

“Looks like someone was also excited to see me last night.” Davrin hums with a hint of amusement.

Rook lets out a flustered laugh, her gaze still on the ground, “is it bad that I don’t even remember?”

Davrin chuckles and shakes his head, taking a step closer to room before placing a finger under her chin to make her meet his gaze. Rook lets out a surprised noise as Davrin leans down to press a kiss to her lips.

Just as quickly he pulls away, a new coat of her red lipstick smudged against his lips, “I think you ought to help us clean us you mess hmm?”

Assan squawks loudly from beside the two and Rook laughs, leaning her head against Davrin’s shoulder, “I suppose it’s only fair.”

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

So much planning

Self-Aware! BSD x SAGAU Imposter crossover

Self-Aware! Dazai Osamu x GN! Reader x Self-Aware! Fyodor Dostoevsky

Description: Dazai and Fyodor still don't get along. But they have few things in common. Both are genius. Both have twisted morals. And both will turn to dust anyone, who dared to hurt you.

Warning: OOC. Mewing Dazai. Fyodor sings lullaby to reader. Nightmares. Slight religious fanaticism. People threw rocks at Reader, Neuvillette do some damage on Reader. English is my second language.

"SINNER!"

A rock was thrown at you. You tried to dodge, but braces on your legs and rope around your neck, that was tied to a wooden post. The rock hit your shoulder. You can't even scream or beg. A metal construction in your mouth won't let you close your mouth, or make any sort of sound.

"MONSTER!"

Another rock was thrown at you. This one hit your chest.

You were cold. You were freezing. The rugs they forced you to wear couldn't stand against Shezhnaya's wind and snow.

"PAY WITH YOUR BLOOD!"

More and more rocks were thrown at your direction. And you can't do anything to stop them.

Yet, you knew, that they won't let you die now.

Not for the next week.

Each day, you will be transported to a different city. And, starting from dusk to dawn, you were chained in the main square. And people were taking their anger out on you.

You were in Snezhnaya today.

Six more cities left.

Six more days before your execution.

Your life will end before Creator's eyes.

________

You woke up, sobbing. You blinked your tears away and look around. You were home. In your room. Not in Teyvat.

You took a quick glance at the clock.

11:00 pm.

You went to bed 30 minutes ago.

You put your head back on the pillow, trying to fall asleep again. And then you heard it.

"Meow"

You sat up on your bed.

"Meow"

You looked down.

You saw Dazai.

He sat on the floor, before your bed. He put elbows on your bed, resting his chin on his hands.

Dazai looked... soft. He had a small smile on his face. His eyes sparkled.

And you saw, that he was worried.

Dazai meowed again.

"Meow."

You can't help, but smile. Back then, before you... were transported in... Teyvat, you jokingly called Dazai a cat. Because every time he had a smile or a grin on his face, he looked like he would start meowing.

Dazai remembered that.

That's why, after every time you had a nightmare about Teyvat, Dazai, among other things, would meow, to make you feel better.

Meanwhile, Dazai put his face closer to yours and rub his nose against yours.

"Mrrrrp."

You laughed quietly, raising your arm. You scratch Dazai behind the ear. He started purring.

"You knew, that you shouldn't do the cat act, right?" ask you. Dazai hummed.

"I want to do that. It makes you happy." Dazai pet you on a head. "Want some company?"

You shifted a little, making some space for Dazai. You were sleepy. You lay your head back on your pillow and close your eyes.

Through sleep, you felt, how someone lay down next to you. A familiar scent of almond, rum and cherry filled your nose. Dazai firmly pressed you against his chest. You felt safer. Safe enough, to try to go back to sleep again.

______

Dazai was listening to your breathing. You didn't have a new nightmare. For now. Dazai hopped, that it will stay this way. Still, he won't bet too much on it.

The door to your room was opened again. Dazai didn't turn his head. He knew who it was.

Without saying a word, Dazai pressed you harder against his chest and carefully moved, changing your position with his.

Now, his chest was touching your back. Now, there was an empty spot near you on your bed.

Fyodor carefully lay down next to you, running his fingers through your hair.

They didn't talk.

For now, they were making sure, that you are okay.

"General nightmare. Didn't remember someone in particular." Dazai squeezed your hand. Fyodor slowly played with your hair.

"Panic attack?"

Dazai shook his head.

"No. Just startled."

Fyodor nodded.

"Good. At least, it is something."

Fyodor and Dazai became quiet again.

Dazai broke silence again.

"Others?"

Fyodor hugged you, scooting closer to you.

"Want revenge."

Dazai looked at you with pity.

"Nikolai?" whispered Dazai, listening to you breathing.

Fyodor closed his eyes.

"Still blames himself."

Fyodor and Dazai became silent again.

Despite working together to get to the real world, they still weren't friends. They do play chess together, or have overcomplicated games in their own minds, but, they won't call each other friends.

But, there was one exception.

You.

For you, they were ready to go beyond any possible goals.

All you need to do is ask. And Fyodor and Dazai will make a plan.

But, even their combined intelligence weren't enough to find you, during the month you were missing.

And their emotions went awry, when they saw you on the barn's floor.

Beaten. Tortured. Bloody.

Dazai's eyes shrank, looking somewhere in the distance. The scenes, of what he will do with people, who dared to hurt you, flash before his eyes.

"So. What should we do next?"

Fyodor's gaze was heavy. Similar thought of future massacre flooded his thoughts.

"Let's discuss some ideas. There is so much planning to do."

_________

You can't breathe.

Your heart was beating heavily, your lungs were burning, your legs refused to move.

But you can't stop. You must run.

Or he will get you.

The storm was at its peak.

Rain water greedily licked your skin. Each drop felt like lava.

The river was close. Its waters looked like they were boiling. You jumped on the first wet stone. On the second. On the third.

And your leg slipped.

Immediately, hydro energy curled around your feet, dragging you underwater.

You managed to hold your breath right before waves closed above your head.

*****

It was a torture.

Hydro dragon was playing with you.

Letting you go, letting you breathe in some treasured air. Before dragging you back underwater.

You lost the number of times you almost drowned. You only tried to grab something, that let you stay above water.

Finally, Neuvillette got tired of this game. He dragged you on the riverbank. Right to his feet.

A pair of hands... No... Draconic hands grabbed your shoulders. Sharp claws sank into them, drawing blood. You screamed, when Neuvillette moved his arms to make you stand.

Your vision was blurry. Yet, you manage to make out a pair of draconic eyes and abnormally sharp teeth.

Neuvillette put his face closer to yours.

"Got you, dirty sinner."

Sharp teeth chomped on your left ear.

Your screams and draconic satisfied rumble mixed together.

You were in pain.

Neuvillette spit something on the ground.

You tried not to look at what remains of your ear.

Neuvillette put his face closer to your second ear.

You closed your eyes. You didn't want to look.

You didn't notice a familiar girl, who was running towards you two. She was accompanied by melusines.

Before Neuvillette can tear your second ear off, Furina plunge her sword in his side.

Draconic roar made you stumble back. Falling into the river.

The last thing you saw were Furina and melusines fighting with Neuvillette.

________

You were sobbing.

Your blood was boiling.

You wanted to scream. To run. To hide.

You tried to touch your shoulders and left ear, to call for Furina and melusines. To do anything.

The hand was placed on the top of your head.

And familiar voice start singing.

Fyodor was singing.

"Котя, котенька-коток,

Котя — серенький хвосток!

Приди, котик, ночевать...

И [Т/И] качать,"

You blinked your tears away. You felt, how Dazai embrace became tighter. He started running his fingers up and down your arm.

Fyodor rubbed your tears away.

"Уж я котеньке-коту,

За работу заплачу:

Дам кусочек пирога

И кувшинчик молока."

You didn't want to protest. You didn't care, that you are too old for lullabies. You wanted some comfort. Some stability. Feel safe.

Fyodor put his chin on the top of your head.

"Платок беленький свяжу

И на шейку повяжу;

Шубку новую куплю

И сапожки закажу.¹"

You hide your face in the crook of Fyodor's neck. Dazai's forehead pressed against the back of your neck. You were warm. You yawn.

When Fyodor finished with this lullaby, he started a new one. Then another. And another.

Until you fall asleep.

*****

You were sleeping soundly for two hours now. Fyodor and Dazai weren't sleeping. They choose to look over you tonight.

And, in the dark of the night, they were planning.

Planning a revenge on people of Teyvat.

And on someone, named Neuvillette, whose name you screamed in your last nightmare.

Dazai looked Fyodor in the eyes.

Brown eyes met purple eyes.

"Vampire outbreak."

"Economy crisis."

"Arahabaki and Demonic Beast Guivre"

"Cannibalism"

"Lovecraft"

"Spare someone?"

"Only if Iris Flower want it."

"No letting Myshonok near portal or Teyvat."

"Not even the smallest glances."

Word after word.

Slowly, the plan of Teyvat's destruction will be finished.

For now, they will simply exchange some ideas. And make sure, that you are safe.

______

1. Russian lullaby.

Kitty, kitty-cat,

Kitty - gray tail!

Come, cat, spend the night,

Rock [Y/N]

Kitty, kitty-cat,

I will pay for your work:

I'll give you a piece of the pie

And a jug of milk.

I will knit you white scarf

And I’ll tie it around your neck;

I'll buy you a new fur coat

And I'll order you boots."

******

Tag list: @withered-blossoms , @myluckymoon @cocodrilofeliz @c4xcocoa @vvyeislazzy @whisperingwinters

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

50 Shades of Red || Chapter 9

pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

summary: Natasha shows Wanda around her playroom, and they have a discussion.

content warnings: BDSM toys/playroom

word count: 2.4k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

The first thing Wanda notices is the smell; leather, wood, and a faint hint of cinnamon. It feels almost inviting, the soft, subtle warmth of the lighting creating a pleasant atmosphere. She can’t locate a source, but it seems to glow from the corners of the room, the soft shadows creating a relaxing ambiance. 

The walls and ceiling are the same dark burgundy color, giving the room a spacious, warm feeling. The floor is dark brown wood, varnished and smooth. Looking across the room, Wanda’s eyebrows raise slightly as her eyes land on the large cross-shaped like an X. It’s fastened to the wall across from the door, the straps on each of the corners telling her exactly what it is. 

Valiantly fighting a blush, and acutely aware of the woman standing right beside her, Wanda continues to look around the room. Above the cross is a large iron grid, suspended from the ceiling. On it, many ropes, chains, and shackles hang. Near the door are an assortment of paddles, whips, riding crops, and thin sticks with feathers sprouting from the ends. 

Near the door is a large chest of drawers, the dark mahogany fitting the theme of the room perfectly. Each drawer is slim, as if they were meant to hold old items in a museum. Wanda sonders what the drawers actually do contain, before a sliver of fear works its way into her brain. 

Does she actually want to know?

Clearing her throat, Wanda continues to look around, unaware of the way her body leans subconsciously towards Natasha. In the far corner of the room, a leather-padded bench innocently sits. The legs look bolted to the floor, and Wanda fights her rising heart rate as she looks at the wall near it. There is a large wooden rack, similar to one used to hold pool sticks, but actually holds multiple canes of different lengths and widths. 

The main event, the thing that dominates the entire space, is the bed. It’s somehow larger than a king-sized bed, with detailed wooden posts carved as they stretch towards the ceiling, a sturdy-looking metal grate as the canopy. It’s intricately designed, with gleaming chains and cuffs attached. There is no bedding, just a mattress with a dark red leather cover and a pile of red satin pillows at the head of the bed. 

Looking around the room, Wanda finds herself surprised that the wood, dark walls and soft warm lighting make the room almost… romantic in a way. She supposes that this might be the way Natasha shows true affection, and the sudden urge to unravel the woman’s layers and secrets hits her. 

Biting her lip, Wanda turns towards the woman beside her. Dark green eyes stare intently at her, just as Wanda somehow knew they would be. Natasha’s expression is unreadable. Walking further into the room, Wanda smiles slightly as the older woman follows closely. There’s an object that has her intrigued. Hesitantly, Wanda reaches out a hand and touches it lightly. 

The suede leather is cool to the touch. It looks like a small cat-of-nine-tails, but slightly bigger. There are small, dark red, plastic beads on the end. 

“It’s called a flogger,” Natasha says, her voice soft. 

Wanda just nods, her mind slightly numb. There aren’t any words coming to mind, all she can do is look around and absorb the dark furniture and various toys neatly arranged around the room. What is the appropriate response? Wanda would have appreciated a slight warning or hint before she walked into a BDSM wet dream.

It’s not that she was… upset. It was just more of a shock. Somehow, the thought of Natasha Romanoff being a domme wasn’t too hard to understand. Wanda had read quite a bit about different kinky aspects of sex, but she’d never had the opportunity to actually try much of anything herself. 

The farthest she’d ever gone was light groping behind the school bleachers with her ex-girlfriend. And not many other opportunities had come her way since. 

Wanda shakes her head slightly, wiping the thoughts of her past away as she forces herself to walk farther into the room. She can feel herself becoming almost… excited.

“I’m assuming that you’re a Dominant?” Wanda finally manages to say, her words feeling muffled and quiet in the space. She flushes at the pleased look that spreads across Natasha’s face, the woman’s lips turning upwards as she responds. 

“That is correct,” Natasha steps closer, watching Wanda as she runs her fingers over one of the delicately carved bedposts. “You don’t seem shocked.”

“I read a lot.”

“Ah, Ms. Maximoff,” Natasha’s voice is teasing, “What kind of books are you reading?”

Wanda lets out a small chuckle, a mere exhale of laughter really. “I’ll bring them over for you sometime, I’m sure they’ll be really enlightening.”

Letting out a thoughtful hum, Natasha smiles at the response, letting her eyes linger on the younger woman’s for a moment. She feels satisfaction building at the way Wanda flushes, her eyes blinking rapidly before she distracts herself by once again looking around the room. Then, Natasha’s eyes narrowed.

There’s that goddamn lip bite again.

Before she can even process the movement, Wanda feels firm fingers gripping her jaw as her eyes meet Natasha’s. The woman is looking down, her pupils dilated as she gently runs her thumb over Wanda’s bottom lip. 

“What have I said about biting your lip,” Natasha asks, her eyes dark. 

Wanda feels her back pressing against the same bedpost that she’d been admiring just seconds earlier. It’s rigid between her shoulder blades, the back of her head resting against it as Natasha holds her jaw captive. The feeling of the older woman’s body pressing ever so slightly against hers is sending her brain into overdrive. 

“Um,” Wanda says, feeling her eyelashes fluttering. She can practically feel her heartbeat as it pulses strongly through her veins, her whole body feeling weightless with need. “Something about you biting it for me.”

Because Wanda is looking at the older woman’s lips, she sees the way they curl into a pleased smile. She finds herself desperately wishing that Natasha would kiss her, and feels her heart rate spike as the woman leans in closer. 

Her lips graze Wanda’s as she speaks, the scent of cinnamon wrapping Wanda’s brain in a pleasant haze. “You understand that as a Dominant, I have rules, yes? If you comply, you’ll be rewarded. If you disobey, you’ll be punished.”

Wanda’s eyes dart over to the rack of long canes as Natasha speaks. Somehow, she isn’t frightened at the thought. Rather, she feels herself growing excited at the prospect. Sure, she’d read all about the BDSM community, even visited different blogs and websites where Dominants and Submissives shared their experiences, but actually being in a dynamic?

God, it was the most thrilling and exciting thing she’d ever considered. 

Taking a deep breath, Wanda forces herself to concentrate. She wants to give in, to let Natasha take control and make her feel good, but she resists. “Can we talk first? I just… want to make sure we both understand what we want.”

Leaning in fully, Natasha leaves a gentle kiss on Wanda’s lips before fully pulling away. Her eyes are gentle, a pleased smile on her face. “Of course, I’m glad you asked. Would you like to talk over dinner?”

Nodding, Wanda lets her tongue wet her lips, wishing she could taste more of Natasha’s lips against her own. She never thought she’d have the opportunity to explore the more… kinky, hidden desires she had. 

But now, looking at Natasha Romanoff in front of her with her perfect red hair and dark green eyes, surrounded by all of the tools a Dominant could need at her disposal… Wanda felt nothing but excitement. She also felt a strange fuzzy feeling threatening to take over, but she adamantly pushed it to the back of her mind. She needed a clear head for this discussion over dinner. 

— 

Watching Natasha cook had been a surreal experience. For some reason, Wanda had assumed that she would have a cook to do everything for her. After all, that’s what rich people do, right? Natasha had chuckled when Wanda voiced that thought, telling her that she did have a cook, but it was rather late at night. 

Wanda had glanced at the clock, her eyebrows shooting up at the numbers that read 9:37 above the stove. She hadn’t realized so much time had passed, but she quickly forgot about the late hour as she watched Natasha prepare what looked to be a warm grain bowl. 

“There’s a bottle of white wine with a green label in the rack,” Natasha said, gesturing in the direction of her wine rack. Wanda looked, catching sight of it as she stood from her spot at the table. “Would you mind grabbing it for me? There are glasses in the cabinet above the rack.”

“Of course,” Wanda murmured, watching as Natasha turned the stove off, sweeping the baby tomatoes she’d cut into a bowl. Carefully, Wanda grabbed the wine bottle and opened the cabinet. A limited selection of glasses told her that Natasha didn’t host many large dinner parties, but the glass was cold and heavy against her fingers. Selecting two wine glasses, Wanda made her way back to the marbled kitchen table, slowly setting the glasses down with the bottle in between them. 

“Where is your corkscrew?” 

Natasha looks over her shoulder at Wanda’s question, her features soft in the kitchen lighting. Wanda feels her heart melt slightly, the relaxed line of the older woman’s shoulders setting her at ease immediately. She can almost envision Natasha like this many years from now, completely comfortable in her own space as they make dinner together. Shaking that thought from her head, Wanda grabs the corkscrew as Natasha speaks, her fingers gesturing towards a drawer while she carefully pours the steaming quinoa from its pot on the stove into a large bowl. 

They don’t speak, a comfortable silence lingering as Natasha sets the table, Wanda’s fingers only slightly shaking as she uncorks the wine, refusing to think about how expensive the bottle is. 

It’s not until she’s almost halfway done with her bowl that Wanda finally speaks, the wine she’s been sipping on giving her courage. “I have a few questions.”

Natasha pauses, setting her fork down and gently wiping at the corners of her mouth with a napkin. Her eyes are intent and focused, locked on Wanda as she tilts her head slightly while her hands rest casually on the table. It’s an open stance, and it makes Wanda trust her even more. 

“Ask whatever you like, Wanda. I don’t intend on keeping secrets from you.”

Wanda feels the urge to leap across the table and crash her lips against Natasha’s when she says that, but luckily keeps her cool and casually sets her fork down as well. Well, she tries to at least, the metal clangs slightly against her bowl, and she curses her shaking fingers. 

She’s not… scared, exactly. Mostly just nervous and slightly intimidated by the powerful, knowledgeable woman in front of her. Not to mention, she was a Dominant, and Wanda had never exactly interacted with someone from the BDSM community before. She really didn’t want to say the wrong thing. 

“Do you want a romantic relationship or just a Dominant and Submissive relationship?” Wanda asks, trying not to cringe at her bluntness. 

Nodding thoughtfully, Natasha takes a deep breath before responding, the only sign of her emotions is the slight tightening of her fingers around her fork. “I want both.” She says, her words firm but her eyes searching Wanda’s with an almost nervous energy. 

It’s strange, to see someone so confident looking at her like this. Wanda doesn’t know how to feel, but she knows that she’s grateful for the vulnerability that Natasha is showing. After all, expressing your true desires and emotions is a scary thing, Wanda understands that. 

“So do I,” Wanda says, smiling at the relieved expression that washes over Natasha’s features. “Although, I will admit that I’ve never really been in a relationship with a Dominant before.”

Smiling, Natasha takes a sip of her wine. “That’s perfectly alright, Wanda. I don’t mind at all. In fact, I think it’s rather exciting to be the one to introduce you to this dynamic. If you’d like that, of course.”

“I would.” The words are out of Wanda’s mouth before she can think about them. She means it, every word. This was something she didn’t know she needed, but ever since Natasha had shown her this side of her, especially her playroom, all Wanda could feel was an intense, deep craving. 

She wanted this. Wanda wanted to explore everything she could with Natasha. She wanted to build a lasting relationship with her, one built on trust and love and a deep understanding of each other. Sure, it wasn’t like the conventional relationships she was surrounded by, but Wanda didn’t quite care. She wanted to be happy, and right now, Natasha Romanoff was the only person she could see herself truly being happy with. 

“Perfect,” Natasha says, taking another sip of her wine, her green eyes intent and hot as she watches Wanda. 

Wanda can’t quite focus after that. She compliments Natasha on the food, of course, as it was one of the best meals she’s ever had, but her mind is elsewhere. The only thing she could think about was the way Natasha’s lips had felt against hers and the intensity of her eyes as she watched her look around at the various toys and tools in her playroom.

The wine is making her head slightly fuzzier than usual, her nerves dissipating as they talk about random things. She learns all about the art Natasha has hung up in her office, and even enquires about the all-blonde staff. 

Natasha laughs at that, telling her that she hadn’t exactly planned it out that way, but most of the qualified candidates for each various position just happened to be blonde. She doesn’t even mind when Wanda tells her about how out of place she’d felt during their first meeting, or about how awkward it was to walk into her building for the first time. 

After a while of mindless chatter, Natasha asks a question, one that turns Wanda’s blood to ice. 

“Are you a virgin?”

Her cheeks burn, embarrassment and insecurity flooding her. What if Natasha didn’t think she was experienced enough? What if she wasn’t good enough, or worse, if she made a mistake and ruined everything? Doubt consumes her, but Wanda forces herself to breathe, to calm the raging emotions inside her. She can’t let fear control her now, not when she’d gotten so far already.

“Yes.”

Next Chapter

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[autumnheartsprice]

john price who knows a thing or two about taming brats like you.

(brat taming, crying, praise yet degradation, submission, you get the hint)

MDNI

getting called to price's office felt like hell on earth, one simple text during a training with gaz left you practically shaking in your boots for the rest of the day.

"my office. 10pm."

you tried to push it into the back of your mind and continue with gaz, but after continuous mess ups and unwise moves, gaz ended the session for the day. you couldn't decide if that was for the worst or best. it was only 2pm, 8 more hours to go until meeting him. why so anxious? you did nothing wrong..

well, besides the fact that a harsh comment towards soap left ghost seeking answers with price. it was a bad timing really, the whole morning went to shit and right after getting told "you look like an easy fuck" by some annoying recruit, soap decided to be all touchy and annoying like his usual self. you never did truly mind it, but it was just such the wrong timing.

"can you get the fuck off of me already? nobody needs you touching them 24/7 while yapping their ear off." you snap at him, the words leaving your mouth before you get the chance to even think about it. by the time you can even open your mouth to mutter an apology, soap has already walked away like a dog with its tail in-between its legs after being scolded. you watch as soap found his way to ghost, who is already staring at you from across the room. fucking hell.

you arrive at price's office at 9:58, too scared of being late but too scared to walk in early. you pace back and forth by his door, trying to calm your nerves. the hallways were empty now, everyone already in bed and most lights dimmed by now. by the time you check your watch again, it's ten seconds past 10:00. you quietly press your knuckles against his wooden door a few times before entering, alerting him of your presence.

price is sat behind his desk, smoking one of his cigars while looking through a folder. he doesn't look at you while you enter, you close the door behind you and stand there, not knowing what to do next. your eyes watch as he pulls his cigar away from his lips and soon blows out a puff of smoke. "lock the door and come here." he finally says, his voice a bit raspy and tired. you follow his directions and lock the door behind you, slowly taking your time to recollect yourself before padding over to his desk. you stand at the edge of his desk, watching as he continues looking over the folder and taking another drag of his cigar. he moves to close the folder and place it in one of his drawers, then closing it and pushing his chair back a bit to turn and look at you.

"snapping people's heads off now? telling the sergeant that he 'doesn't need to be touching people and yapping their ear off', as i do recall? snapping at the sergeant who's helped you god knows how many times and helped you rise up, just for you to say shit like that? want to explain that to me?" price sternly says, his eyes focused on your tense form as he starts to take another drag. you can't help but swallow the nervous forming lump in your throat and begin to fumble with your hands in front of you. your mouth opens to speak, but words fail to come out, leaving you speechless in front of him. "cat got your tongue all of a sudden? you had plenty to say earlier, 'cause that little incident of yours wasn't the first i heard about today." price grumbles out, very clearly not too happy about it now. you didn't have a reasonable explanation behind it, what were you supposed to say besides the fact you just had a bad morning?

"i'm sorry.. i didn't purposely mean to do it.." you quietly mumbled, barely audible enough for him to hear. he looks up at you, raising one of his brows as to silently question if that's all you got. as he continues staring at you, he sees that he's not going to get anything else out of you. "c'mere. and don't make me repeat myself." he grumbles, pushing his chair back a little bit more and pointing towards the edge of his desk. you take the few steps forward to reach to him before standing in front of him, your ass pressing against the edge of his desk before he places a hand on your hip and forces you to turn around. you hear the creek of his chair as he stands up, the hair on your arms start to stand up. you feel a large, warm hand find it's place on your lower back, before slowly pushing it forward, bending you over his desk. you feel his hips press against your ass as he leans forward over you, his lips pressed against your ear.

"you know what i do to bratty girls, don't you?"

you slowly nod your head, being a victim of one too many of his punishments already, although that never soothes your nerves of what's to come. he puts his cigar down and puts it out in his ashtray before slowly running his hands down the small of your back, pressing tenderly onto your spine at some points. his hands come running back down to your hips, rubbing the waistline of your pants before dipping a few fingers under the fabric to feel your soft skin. you whimper under the feeling of his hands slowly caressing your skin, he grabs the skin on the back of your neck and scruffs you as a result. "quiet." he spits out, pushing your face into the wood of his desk. you wiggle your hips, trying to get comfortable as the edge of the desk digs into your skin. "you know what happens every time and you still decide to act up. fucking filthy brat shouldn't even deserve my touch." he huffs under his breath, your cheeks start to heat up and turn a slight tint of pink out of embarrassment. he gives your ass a light and quick swat, causing you to suddenly jolt forward. he grabs a handful of your ass in a warning, causing you to settle.

he wraps his fingers around your waistband and reaches to the front to unbutton your pants before roughly yanking them down, your skin suddenly exposed to the cold air of the room. a shiver runs through your spine and he can't help but tsk at your reaction. you hear him rustle behind you before a large palm strikes at your ass, causing you to whine at the sudden pain. "you'll take what i give you until i decide when to stop, no counting. you'll use your safe word if you need it. do you understand me, girl?" he rasps out, grabbing a handful of hair and turning your head to press your cheek against the desk now. you quickly nod in response, causing another firm slap on your ass. "use your words, sergeant." he adds. he kneads the soft flesh of your ass as a warning. "i understand, sir.." you mumble out, trying not to whimper at his touch of my reddening ass.

he hums in approval, before striking your ass again. his spanks start off slow and methodical, then fast and hard. whimpers turned into moans, then weak and pained mewls. you clawed at his desk, only leaving for him to pull your hands behind your back and hold them there with one hand. "captain.. i'm sorry.. please, i didn't mean to upset anybody.. i'll apologize to soap, i swear.." you rasp out, voice becoming tired after constant use. his spanks become more harsh, silently telling you that your begging wasn't good enough to make up for your attitude.

you can't help the tears that start to brim your eyes, the pain becoming too much to bear and overstimulating. the amount was coming up near 25 at this point and it started to burn like hell. small tears started to roll down your cheeks, before turning into big fat ones that led to a sob escaping your lips.

this made price stop and begin to massage your skin for a little bit as you continued to cry. "shh baby.. it's okay, just a few more.. you're doing so good for me, hm? such a good girl, taking your punishment so well. what's your color, sweet girl?" he soothes you. his voice was much softer before, and he runs a soft hand along your back while continuing to massage your skin. "g-green.." you manage to mutter out. price hums in acknowledgement, letting you both recollect yourselves for a few moments as he continues to run a gentle hand along your back.

a sharp hiss escapes your lips at the sudden slap, only eagering him to continue. your fallen tears start to create a puddle underneath your face and onto the desk, yet it couldn't stop the growing arousal in your exposed panties. he continues to grope your ass before letting his palm fall against your skin. his touch was more soothing this time, but his spanks were much harder. the continuous enslaughter to your already stinging ass made you whine even more. you can feel his bulge up against your hip as he presses into your side, feeling the thickness of his hard-on even while he's fully dressed.

it felt like forever until his spanking stopped; one last slap on your right cheek ended it all, leaving you a breathless and crying mess on his desk. his palm removes itself from your ass, moving his hand to massage your hips. "shh.. shh, girl.. you're alright.." he whispers. your small cries fill the room as he attempts to soothe you, hoping his light touch will at least make up for it.

he reaches down and opens one of the drawers of his desk, fumbling through his very organized section and finding a soothing lotion. he gives the lotion a quick shake, having not used it since your last punishment, and opens the cap. he squirts a small amount of lotion into his palm and rubs his hands together to spread it before lathering it onto your ass. your body jolted at the sudden cold touch, a whimper leaving your lips. "hey, hey.. it's okay, my love.. 's just lotion to make it feel all better, okay?" he apologies, trying to apply it more carefully to not set you off. he takes a good few moments massaging and prepping your skin with love and care, even bending down to leave a light kiss on your left cheek.

he comforts you as you lie on his desk, ass red and exposed in front of him. he slowly picks you up, an arm behind your knees and back as he sits down in his chair and puts you on his lap. he hears a small whine leave your lips, and a small frown forms in his lips. "i'm sorry lovie.. c'mere.." he whispers, pulling a strand of hair behind your ears before pulling you closer.

you feel your body almost melt into his, the warmth and calming scent soothing your senses. the room is filled with a comfortable silence, only occasional sniffles being heard. "i'll apologize to Soap and Ghost, i promise.. i'm sorry for being bad.." you mumble into his neck, soft breath falling onto his skin.

it doesn't take long for a finger to hook under your chin and bring it up, forcing you to look up at him. "my love, you are not 'bad'.. thank you for saying you'll apologize to them but don't think for a second that you're bad or anything. you're still my good girl no matter what, okay?" he firmly says, leaving no room for doubt. a soft finger wipes away your remaining tears.

you slowly nod, mumbling a small "okay" in acknowledgement. price didn't think you listened to his words enough, not believing you truly took it to heart.

he pulls your face closer before pressing a soft, yet passionate and meaningful kiss on your lips. "my good girl." he says, breath against your lips.