#allowing you to flaunt with ease

[mithransilks]

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[bunnysbrainrot]

He Wants to Watch

Kinktober Prompt: Doggy Style

Relationship: Sam Winchester x f!Reader, Dean

Content: Explicit sexual scenes, rough sex, dirty talk, creampie, unprotected sex, (lowkey) breeding kink, degrading, voyeurism/exhibitionism, Sam is a little greedy

Summary: It's time for round two, and the younger Winchester hasn't had his fill. Dean is generous enough to let Sammy have a turn, but not without watching exactly how his brother pleases his girl.

** Guessing Game is part 1 - For full context, and more smut, go ahead and read it! I apologize that this is shorter than usual, I’m working on some bigger pieces, and transferring everything to AO3!

Thirty minutes have passed since you collapsed into Dean's mattress, totally sated and limp from pleasure. The two brothers lay on either side of your lax form, caressing your skin with peppered kisses along the way.

Sam locks eyes with his brother, a devilishly curious look glinting within them. Dean's look darkens - a silent agreement.

"How you feeling, sweetheart?" asks Dean, tucking loose hairs away from your cheeks. During the last round, you'd built up a decent sweat that stuck your hair around your temples.

You shift your legs, assessing your soreness. To your surprise, it's not as intense as you'd thought it would be - and paired with the careful massage from the brothers, your recovery time was hurried.

"I'm wonderful," you sigh. Movement comes from behind and a thick warmth presses against your ass.

Sam snakes his arms around your middle and tugs you toward him, away from Dean. There isn't a hint of jealousy on your boyfriend's features. In fact, it seems like he could actually be enjoying this. Sam grips gently at your jaw and cranes your head to face him. That same overwhelming darkness still pools in his eyes; it was a type of shadow that could melt your insides before they're ravaged again.

The blackness of Sam's eyes is not an invitation, or a flirtation. No..

It’s a warning.

Not a word is said as Sam hitches your leg up. You're splayed wide on your side, now with your messy pussy in full view for the brothers. Dean's gaze settles on your displayed cunt, and its proximity to Sam's cock, throbbing and leaking from your past round.

Minutes before, Sam demanded to have you to himself, his words less of a request than a warning. Watching his brother fuck you thoroughly, all the while flaunting what he couldn't have, sent a rush of jealousy through Sam. His cock ached for your dripping cunt - longing to bury itself inside of your walls. It was his right to do so, just as much as his brother.

Sam grips the base of his cock and guides it between your thighs, lining his shaft between your slick folds. He gives a few steady thrusts to lead the head of his cock across your clit, still sensitive from earlier. You whine, looking to Dean.

Darkened eyes greet you. Dean wears a wide, pleased smile on his face, as if watching his brother fuck his own girlfriend could be a source of pride.

"Sammy wants his turn."

A moan escapes you when Sam’s cock brushes against your clit. He slides through your slick folds with a sharp gasp - your warmth kisses the sensitive head, tensing his back from the brush of pleasure. You look to Dean with a confused expression, but your furrowed brows relax when Sam’s cock fixes at your wet hole, eager for his own opportunity.

Your hips relax at his touch and allow Sam to ease his way inside. Sam enters you with a hiss through his teeth. Warmth envelops his cock with every inch, stretching you slowly.

You cry out, whipping your head to look at Sam as he pushes himself inside. His face is contorted in ecstasy, and he lets out a low moan when you clench down onto his length. It’s Dean’s voice that helps encourage you to take more of his brother.

“There you go, baby, just relax. Let Sammy take care of you,” he murmurs, lowering his hand to his groin, taking hold of his own length, pumping himself slowly.

Sam, to his credit, is a bit more endowed than your boyfriend, and he feels absolutely glorious. He has more length to stretch you out, as opposed to Dean’s gift of girth. Regardless, by the time he’s bottomed out, you’re satisfyingly full, mewling into the sheets. He needs to move. You need to feel him.

You buck your hips onto his cock, sinking him into your fluttering walls. A low groan escapes from his chest, thrumming against your back.

“Fuuuck, she’s tight,” he moans, throwing his head against your shoulder.

Dean hums in agreement, still stroking himself next to you. His eyes rove over your form - shaking, moaning, and clenching around Sam’s dick.

After a moment, your slick coats Sam’s length enough to let him in fully, bottoming out in your pussy with a soft groan.

You steady your breathing. You can feel how nicely your pussy is stretching to his size - he’s in your stomach, your lungs, everywhere. He’s far bigger than how he felt down your throat. Apparently your mouth can accommodate him perfectly, but your tight cunt is another matter.

He moves, ever so slightly, dragging his heavy cock through your tight walls to the tip. Sam plunges in with earnest. You cry out at the deeper strike.

Sam’s hand whips around your front to your throat, placing a finger on either side of your windpipe, squeezing down. Dullness throbs through your head as you struggle for a proper breath. His hand eases it’s grip, and the blood rushes heavily back through your head, gifting you a dull ache in your temples, and a thundering rush of adrenaline.

“S-Sam, faster, please,” you whisper. He groans in response, snapping his hips into yours.

The pace becomes relentless. Sam takes no time easing you into it like his brother does - he takes your request and sprints ahead with it, delivering blow after blow to your ravaged pussy.

Dean watches his brother’s cock work itself inside of your entrance, glossy when it leaves with your slick.

“Rougher, Sam.”

Dean’s command shudders through him, and Sam reaches for your waist, shoving you onto your stomach. From this angle surely he can strike deeper. Harder.

With a grunt, Sam hauls your hips upward, slipping from your pussy and giving you a cold kiss of the air. A whimper escapes you, pleading with him to return his heat.

You squirm to brace yourself on your elbows. A warmth prods at your stretched hole - Sam’s cock teases your needy pussy with the thick head of his length. The silence in the room is not one of awkwardness; instead, it happens to add a new erotic element of being watched. Observed by Dean.

Craning your head you can see Dean’s lazy smile as he fucks his hand. His eyes are glued to your expressions, waiting anxiously for it to warp as Sam enters you again.

He does so in one swift thrust. You’re thrust into the sheets again, falling limp into the mattress with the overwhelming pleasure.

Sam’s name slurs around your tongue. Whether it was in protest or pleading, you couldn’t tell. The force of his snapping hips set your nerves on high alert, every inch of you surges as he moves. Your name tumbles past his lips, drawn out like a song. His voice has your back arching - with the deep rumble of the utterance, like a prayer and curse all in one.

His hips sharply snap against your ass. All cohesive thought vanishes as his cock pounds against your cervix, sending a full throb through your cunt. If you weren’t sore with Dean from before, surely you’d have trouble moving now.

“Letting me use you right after my brother,” Sam growls, “you’re such a dirty slut.”

The abrasive words ignite you, leaving you to moan softly into the blanket.

“And I’d bet you want my cum, too, huh?” his voice is laced with venom, as filthy as your body feels, “I saw how badly you wanted Dean’s, I could tell you wanted more. Just a dumb cumslut, aren’t you?”

You manage a nod. Sam’s fingers card through your hair and gain purchase, jerking your head back, angling you to look at him. He braces himself into a kneel and crouches over you, angling himself to thrust deeper, crashing his cock into your sweet spot.

Sam’s voice brushes over your ear amidst the wet slaps of his balls hitting your drenched cunt. Each strike lands on your swollen clit, with small spurts of pleasure following behind.

“Dean,” he begins. Sam tilts his head to his brother, now more fervently pleasuring himself. His strokes are rougher with each passing second. Darkness blows out Sam’s eyes as he asks, “Can I finish inside of her?”

Dean’s brows twitch with annoyance, but his expression shifts. He gives a simple nod.

Go ahead.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” he groans. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll give you plenty.”

You can feel Sam’s smile against your ear before me takes the lobe between his teeth. He talks lowly to drive himself closer. While his brother may take his time to please you, it’s not Sam’s job to prioritize that. This is his once chance, and he’s not patient under the pressure.

“Pretty little cum dumpster,” his words strain, “Two brothers in the same night - fucking filthy. You’re one depraved bitch.”

The words strain the tightness welling in your abdomen. You’re about the snap, but based on Sam’s faltering thrusts, he may beat you to it.

“Please-“ you choke.

“Quiet,” he orders, “you take what I give you, when I give it to you.”

Having no control in it doesn’t upset you in the slightest. After all, you were the girl turned whore when you decided to fuck your boyfriends brother.

His jutting hips lose their rhythm as his orgasm approaches. Sam hisses at the tension in his abdomen before his release spills into your abused cunt, coating your walls with white.

“Shiiit,” he exhales. Sam unsheathes from your used hole, staring pridefully at his cum leaking from your pulsing pussy. It flows downward, covering your gleaming folds and stiff clit in a white sheer. Underneath him, you whine into the bed, clenching your cunt onto nothing, keeping his seed inside.

You pry your eyes open to look for Dean. You find him with his hips slacked and cock leaking into his hand. His own cum stains his stomach in a white gloss. He flutters his eyes closed, completely sated.

Sam helps ease your hips back down onto the bed; he steps away after muttering something about ‘cleaning up’. A moment later he returns with a lukewarm washcloth, tending to your messiest areas, and then working on himself.

He lounges on the bed to your side. You pant softly to come down from the high. Sam’s cum still seeps between your slick folds, reminding you of the filthy deed you two did.

Perhaps out of respect for Dean, Sam doesn’t kiss you afterward. His comfort to you is to stroke a hand through your hair idly as Dean recovers. Your boyfriend grumbles your name before reaching for you.

You give him a once-over, seeing as he hasn’t cleaned up his own ‘aftermath’. You arch an eyebrow at him.

“Clean yourself up, and then we’ll talk.”

You hear Sam’s breathy laugh from behind. Dean rolls his eyes and reaches for the discarded washcloth, doing as you requested.

Hi y’all, I hope you enjoyed! If you did, it would be a huge support if you reblog! Happy Kinktober!

[omenics]

YAY I'm glad you want to write vamps!! I always welcome more Castlevania Dracula x reader content! feel free to choose the general scenarios, but if you're comfortable writing it I'd love to hear about how he handles being tempted by your blood 👀

𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐀.

› ..your taste is like ambrosia, the nectar of the gods. gn reader. — i got carried away with this guys vampires draw out the worst in me LMAO. if this is too intimate and eyebrow raising im sorry i love vampires and their stupid metaphorical actions for romance.

Dracula is ancient. He is old. He has walked the earth for centuries, and has learned to ease his bloodlust. Yes, he is very well-acquainted with the temptations that comes with vampirism, and he does his best to keep his fangs clean, for he is mot the man he once was.

It is enticing. The smell that emits from your pretty pulse points, the way your heartbeat echoes and reverberates off of the castle walls drive his bloodlust farther. But he holds back. He will not succumb to his primal instincts. Not yet, at least.

But the day will come. He knows it will, for when your neck flaunts itself through the collar of your clothes he feels his façade slip and his hunger grow.

So the day comes, he holds a hand gingerly and sinks his teeth into your wrist. No, it is not the neck, but he feels like this is more appropriate than biting you in such an intimate place. He would not do anything you did not wish and would take it slowly, which is why his fangs would dip into the supple skin of your wrist; to ease you into the puncturing pain that will become familiar to you.

To Vlad, the act is intimate. He savours it, taking his time to ensure comfort and relish in the taste, smell, and essence. So when the time comes and his fangs graze your neck, he feels your pulse quicken under his lips, and his hand would make its way to the side of your head and softly entangle it in your hair, craning your head to the side for better access. Agonizingly slow his fangs would pierce into your flesh, drinking like a starved dog.

If he could he would stay there for eternity, to bleed you dry because your blood tastes like ambrosia, the food of the gods. He will not succumb to such basic and primal instincts no matter how much he wants to. He will not become more of a monster than he already is. Instead he would drink in the gasps that leave you, the pained hitch in your breath when he punctures your neck. He would not try to soothe you, too drunk on the taste he neglected for so long.

But the way it tastes on his tongue would drive him mad. It would simultaneously ease his bloodlust and drive it, making him want more. Enticing you were, so utterly cruel, but he would not lose himself in your scent. He would not allow it. You would not be a personal blood-bank for him, you are so much more than that.

You are his Achilles heel with your sweet taste. You would make him crumble to his knees just for a taste. He is weak for you, your scent and your smell. He becomes nothing more than a starved man when his fangs puncture your neck and tongue lap up the sweet, sweet nectar that oozes out and down your sweet skin.

[whereisloe]

my angel ໒꒱

“come from way above” ❀ sevika x reader 𓆝. 𓆟

Got this idea while writing a Silco fic and realized not enough people are writing for this fine ass woman OHMYGOF

I miss my wife, tails. i miss her a lot.

“This doesn’t hurt, does it?” you’d ask as you treated Sevika’s wound, carefully watching every faint expression on her face as you did so. She only grunted in response before letting her head fall into her hand. Considering the positions you both assumed, the woman had been towering over you as you sat comfortably between her legs dressing her abdominal wound. “Aaw , we’re almost done. Just keep being good for me, yeah?” You’d tease with a passive pat to her thigh as you prepped yourself to wrap her waist.

“Shut up” She’d force through a wince as you applied pressure to the deep cut, wrapping it as you did so. “You talk too much”

Once you finished the wrap your hands were quick to roam. Snaking up her chest, and latching onto her neck as you pulled your lips onto her jaw. “Keep getting hurt like this and I might just have to give Silco a little visit for all the trouble he keeps putting you through” Sevika scoffed, half-amused at your wit as she leaned back into the chair. “That man would eat you alive, sweetheart” The petname came off more condescending than endearing as Sevika undermined your words, even brushing off the genuine concern behind the joke with a bittersweet smirk.

“Oh, you promise?” Now it was your turn to laugh as you watched that smirk wipe clean off her face when her expression grew darker. You ignored her very obvious mood change and continued cleaning up your gear. “Y’know, maybe I could get you that pay raise. What do you think?” You’d stand from your crouched position and slowly spin around, flaunting your body at the woman. You even grabbed her rugged hand and bring it to your hip as you knelt into the seat of the chair that had been exposed between her legs.

“Hilarious.” She wouldn’t even half mind you as her hand quickly replaced your hip with a cigar. You rolled your eyes at her passiveness before returning to the ground to clean up your mess. At some point you even walked away allowing Sevika to smoke in peace as you cleaned your equipment.

Once you reentered the room, you’d find Sevika casually reclined on your couch with an unlit cigar still hanging out the side of her mouth. As you got closer her eyes locked on to you, roaming you up and down but once they reached your face, they softened. Just two gentle, big eyes admiring from a distance as you admired back. You were snapped out of your trance when she threw a lighter at you. You caught the metal with ease and examined it. “You forgot to light me” She said plainly, attempting to hide the sentiment she held toward the action. It was reminiscent of the first time the two of you met outside a brothel. Long story short, Sevika was quick to describe you as a huge distraction to her mission that day despite your short interaction that even you barely remembered.

“How cruel of me” You knelt down in front of the couch, now back to admiring your partner from below as her half lidded eyes met your wide ones. Her hand, rough as it was, gently held your cheek as her thumb brushed over your bottom lip. You felt yourself melt into her warm palm as the contrast between her calloused hand and your plush skin sent chills down your skin. You sparked the lighter twice before bringing it to the end of Sevika’s cigar.

She watched you. Allowing the flame to illuminate your soft expressions, and in her eyes, manipulating your features. Making you resemble yourself that night many years ago. She wasn’t any less taken by your more aged features if anything she appreciated them. Glad to see you grow older alongside her than having to admire your beauty from an ageless photo. You would notice her unwavering stare once you tossed the lighter aside and decided to make brief conversation. “You know, I don’t remember much of the first time we met” Sevika took a puff of her cigar before nodding urging you to continue. “But I remember without a doubt the second time”

“I’d be more concerned if you didn’t” She chuckled under her breath as the memories came flooding in. You took note of her already flaking cigar as she held it between her two fingers. Quickly, you placed your ceramic tray gently to her stomach just in time to catch the ash. “That guy had a lot of nerve putting his hands on you, you’re lucky I was there. Otherwise, who knows the things he would’ve did—” Sevika cursed at the thought.

“Well, you were there and I am forever grateful for you,” your voice was low as you rub senseless shapes across her wrist with the pad of your thumb. “my angel” the words were hushed as you kissed the base of her palm, then her wrist, down her arm, and back up her shoulder until you reached her nape where you took a moment. In this time, you pushed yourself onto her, feeling her shift to a more seated position to accommodate for you, you straddle her hips as you tossed your arms carelessly over her shoulders. The ceramic tray had fallen out from under you meeting the concrete with a shattering sound as the shards dispersed. “Damn it” You sighed as you began shifting away from your partner only for her to rest a heavy hand on your waist.

“I’ll clean it, later” Sevika gently guided you back into herself only to latch onto your neck. A shaky breath left your agape lips as you laid helplessly above Sevika. The heat in your cheeks only spread as she shamelessly left those sticky love bites all over your neck.

The sounds that fell from your lips only further egged her on as she found herself getting lower and her hand higher as it slid up your stomach. Eventually, you grew fed up with her slow teasing and brought your fingertips to the seams of your shirt and watched as Sevika’s gaze grew harsh with anticipation. You were ready to lift the cloth but quickly felt your blood run cold as three heavy knocked fell against your front door. You practically jumped out your skin as Sevika scowled at the source of the noise. “Fuck, I’ll get it” You held a hand over your heart as your slowly opened the door, meeting the eyes of a man who seemed to be one of Silco’s goons.

“Sevika, boss needs ya” The man completely disregarded you. You huffed under your breath and glanced up noticing how she was already behind you, prying the door further open. “Gotchu, now get the hell out of here before somebody sees you” Sevika’s voice was cold and harsh as she talked with the man, her tone almost foreign to you as you waited behind the door for Sevika to finish. Once she did, the door was shut with a frustrated grunt as she leant up against the door contemplating her next move.

“You need me to kill him?” From behind, you brought both your arms around her, pressing your face against her shoulder, you felt her laugh. “I’m sure you could.” She turned around and pressed a brief kiss to your temple. “Drinks on me next date to make up for this”

“Drinks are always on you” Your thumbs rubbed anxiously against her waist as you become increasingly aware of how much you hated when she left.

“Guess I need to stop fucking up, then” She gave your cheek on last stroke before turning to leave only to be stopped when you grabbed her mech hand. “You’re off to a bad start if you’re just gonna leave like that” You pulled yourself into her chest, standing on your toes as your lips locked with hers. Moving in tandem, Sevika fell against the door as you cupped her face in your palms and grew warm as her hand fell on the small of your back. Toward the end of your kiss you felt that warm, genuine smile of hers form against your lips as you fell back onto your heels.

“Be sure to fly back home to me, my angel”

god punishes me by making my wives fictional :( also have yall read that hexstrap fic??? sevika please just the tip 🙏😩

[cruel-hiraeth]

i can never stop thinking about standing full nelson with zoro…

the feeling of utter weightlessness is intoxicating—as is the reprieve from control. it’s a rush, allowing your body to be handled entirely by your lover, coaxed to the precipice of pleasure through his strength and adoration.

while it’s inarguably zoro’s favorite position (a precious opportunity to flaunt his physical prowess in a way that leaves you boneless and crying for more), he’s insistent on easing you into it, ever mindful of your limits.

you know when it’s coming with the telltale darkening of his lone eye, the impossible deepening of his thrusts, the restless slide of his calloused fingers across your softness, the gravely hum of his filthy words against your throat—

yet it happens so suddenly that you have no time to react. he rises to his feet and flips you to face outward before squatting down to lift you up, bulging arms trapping your legs at your chest, wrapping his broad hands around to cradle the back of your head.

when his tip nudges your entrance, you tremble; and when he finally pushes inside, it knocks the breath from your lungs. tears glitter in your eyes as you’re forced to take it all—everything he gives you, from his fat cock to his unabashed groans to his endless praise:

you’re perfect like this… you’re perfect for me… there’s no one but you… i’m yours… you’re going kinda dumb, baby, but—f-fuck—so am i…

[silkenedstars]

Blade Lineage Sinners and Love Languages

Specifically, the love languages that they prefer from their s/o.

₊✦Limbus Company | Sinners x gn!reader | Contains minor spoilers for Canto 3!!✦₊

Additional Notes: Unedited, kurokumo version should be out hopefully soon;; Also RR4 was super easy.

˚₊✦ Quality Time ✦₊˚

Yi Sang is not one for words, not anymore. His heart had gone cold from the bitterness of that day and yearned for revenge. He would keep everyone at an arm's length, so long as it meant that he would achieve his goal one day.

However, one thing that he could never deny himself was your presence.

Though he might not be one for affection – not that he minded if you were to initiate it – and certainly not one for gifts, he could never deny the way your presence would soothe his wounded heart whenever you joined him on his patrols.

Listening to your voice was calming. Listening to you rambling about any matter would, more often than not, ease him into a rest without nightmares haunting him.

If the two of you weren't fugitives, if neither of you had joined the Blade Lineage, if the Blade Lineage didn't fall apart as badly as it had, then Yi Sang would've loved to take you to his hometown for a trip. The two of you walking side by side silently and taking in the nature around you would be the ideal way for Yi Sang to show his appreciation towards you, but alas, those days would never become a reality.

The most he could offer were those patrols you joined him for, and for the time being, that was enough.

Perhaps, in the distant future, he'd get the chance to take you to his hometown.

✿❀✿

˚₊✦ Gift Giving ✦₊˚

Faust kept every single item that you gave her inside a safe.

It didn't matter to her if the item was an expensive jewel that cost you a leg and an arm to buy, it didn't matter to her if it was something you spent days making just for her, nor did it matter if it was something you saw off the side of the road and decided to bring back to her for a variety of reasons.

Every single second you spent thinking about her was a precious second. Each one filled with beauty that was dedicated to her.

This kind of affection was a treasure, for sure. Faust might not be able to reciprocate your feelings besides offering you her presence and a cup of tea, but she would gladly offer her life if it meant that you got to live, even if it was just a second longer.

If there was a kind of gift she prefered over the others you gave her, though, then it would have to be the accessories as well as the rare outfits that you got her.

It was a shame that she couldn't wear them– the accessories in fear of them getting stolen the moment of her death, and the outfits in fear of ruining them with blood and cuts. But if she could, then she wouldn't hesitate to flaunt them around; showing others how much your cared for her and how she was yours.

It was a nice thought, but one that she couldn't make reality.

So for now, they'd stay in her safe where no one could take them away.

✿❀✿

˚₊✦ Physical Touch ✦₊˚

Don adored it when your fingers trailed over her battle scars.

She loved it even more when you kissed each and every single one of them.

Someone as great as you showing her affection via the scars that were her pride and joy?

She thanked every fixer in the City for allowing this to happen to her, swearing to repay their blessings – and your affection, of course – as much as she could.

And repay, she did.

Putting on her most chivalrous act, every morning she'd greet you right outside your room; kneeling down before you and bringing your hand to her lips for a brief kiss, giddily waiting for your reaction.

She refused to leave your side, offering you help with every single little thing. It wasn't because Don thought you wouldn't be able to do these things yourself, no, but because she so desperately wanted to be your knight and help you as much as she could.

The one thing she loved offering the most was her blade.

Not just because she loved fighting for you, as a chivalrous knight would for royalty, but also because of the way you'd treat her after a battle.

She melted each time your calloused and scarred hands cupped her face in them, nearly squishing her cheeks as you praised and scolded her at the same time.

She gushed over the way you nursed her wounds for battles when she was especially careless.

And she swooned over the way you'd kiss her cheeks and call her your knight, so much so that she wouldn't be able to stop thinking or gushing about it for days straight.

✿❀✿

˚₊✦ Physical Touch ✦₊˚

Meursault was so, so tired.

Between the Kurokumo Clan that effortlessly cornered them and the occasional assassins sent by S Corp, Meursault had been completely exhausted. He couldn't take a small break either, not when it could mean death for every single person depending him.

So it meant that much more whenever you hugged him while he was working, or when you cuddled him during the few moments of rest that he got. The warmth of your body was soothing, and he never had it himself to not wrap an arm around you and pull you close.

Holding you in his arms was the best way for him to relax and get back to planning with a clear head and fresh perspective. And if you were to help him plan things? All the better.

The only problem was that his neutral expression seemed to scare you away from being affectionate, and him trying to smile seemed to make things worse for some reason.

Oh, Wings, how could he solve this little issue?

✿❀✿

˚₊✦ Words of Affirmation ✦₊˚

To claim that Sinclair knew what he was doing would be nothing short of a lie.

He had no clue what he was doing, especially not in the battlefield where something seemed to overtake him; leaving him confused, scared and filled with doubts whenever it left his body.

So he appreciated it so, so much when you reassured him.

You didn't compliment him like the other members did after a battle, instead easing his fears and telling him that he wasn't a senseless murderer like his irrational mind said he was.

Despite being the obvious, those words meant so much to him.

And so did your smiles and the way you said "you can do it!" or "you'll be okay!", they all meant, so, so much.

When he first joined the Blade Lineage, he used to be so meek; too blinded by his revenge for Kromer to realize what exactly he had become a part of, and too much of a scaredy cat to leave when he saw what he was capable of in his first battle.

Had it not been for you and your soothing words, he didn't know where he'd be right now. Making the same mistake he did with Kromer, probably.

But he had you now, you and your soothing words. Every time he hesitated, you were there to encourage him. Every time he doubted himself, you were there to reassure him. Every time he needed you, you were there for him.

That was all he needed.

...Well that and the way you'd squish his cheeks whenever you thought he looked cute.

✿❀✿

˚₊✦ Acts of Service ✦₊˚

Outis had been stuck doing things that others were telling her to do for so long, so it came as a surprise when she woke up one morning to find a breakfast already prepared for her.

At first, she was uncomfortable, demanding to learn who it was that decided to make her breakfast, and stammering a little when she found out it was you. While taking care of others wasn't a task that bothered her that much, she knew full well how much energy and effort it took to do exactly that. It was a thankless job more often than not, and sometimes way more difficult than it needed to be. Not to mention that someone being in the exact position as she used to be was upsetting, even if she didn't show it much.

However, the moment she realized that you were doing this as a way to show your affection as opposed to seeing this as a chore you had to do, her tune quickly changed.

What started as breakfest in bed turned into you helping her with her chores, and while she told you off at times to make sure you got rest, she appreciated every little thing you did for her and she made sure to thank you for every one of them.

If you ever needed her, she'd be right there, be it for something big or small.

You got gravely injured during your last battle and need someone to nurse you back to health? No problem, she'll gladly help you.

You need to get something from a shelf that you can't reach? No problem, she'll get it for you.

You want someone to hold your hand because you don't want to get lost in a crowded area? No problem, she'll just carry you.

She might get a little overbearing, but she's doing it to repay your love for her; to let you know that she'll be there for you if you ever need someone. She means well, even if her smile makes her look like she's scheming your downfall.

✿❀✿

[sugairsstuff]

Hii,

I have a request I love protective Rhys so can you do a Rhys x reader where someone insults her and Rhys gets all overprotective and angry, like how dare they insult my mate🤭

I hope you have a great day and thank u for writing it

Bye❤️

i’m sorry for taking so long to write this! i hope you enjoy my spin on the prompt <3

i’m flattered

rhysand x fem/reader

warnings: none

description: a noble has quite a lot to say regarding your appointment to high lady. as much as you’d like to do it yourself, your loving mate swoops in to put them in their place.

Coming to the Court of Nightmares to play pretend in these political dances veiled in the disguise of a party was never something you were excited about through all your immortal years of knowing Rhysand. So, naturally, you were feeling an extra weight of anxiety now that you would be attending as the High Lady of the Night Court—therefore a major piece in what was originally just Rhysand and the Court of Nightmare’s game of chess. You understood your mate morphed himself into an entirely different person as he believed that the one way to keep this imbalanced section of the Night Court under order was to keep them intimidated with the illusion of a cruel leader—for who would challenge someone who held no moral bounds?

While your mate had years—if not centuries—of practice in carefully carving this mask to wear at a ball that wasn’t even a masquerade, you had only been High Lady for two years. Before that, you kept your head low or simply did not attend the events held in this part of the court. It goes without saying that you were extremely prone to criticism, which was especially worrying in a place that was kept under control through the guise that they were not allowed to question their authority.

Alas, your lover insisted that it would be better for you to attend with him. Rhysand promised that you were safe there in his company (and that the food and drinks would be to your liking), while urging that it was better to show your face and prove that these Fae did not make you afraid than stay behind and let them mumble amongst themselves. Because, of course, this court was no longer run by only the High Lord, so now you needed to demand respect as well.

Standing in the mirror, you decide that at least it was somehow easing to be wearing such an elegant gown to the ball. With long sleeves and a deep plunge, your black dress hugs your curves and falls over your hips to the floor. You thought it was a nice touch that the ends of the long skirt are flecked in white that gave the illusion you had just waded through a pool of stars. Your hair is done up nicely as well to flaunt your neck and the silver jewels decorating it, the light piece of jewelry falling deep on your chest.

“I’m wondering if bringing you may be a mistake after all,” a familiar voice hums lovingly behind you. You whirl around from the mirror, brows furrowed as you watch your mate expectantly for an explanation.

Rhysand chuckles, raising his hands in a surrendering gesture as he pushes himself off of the doorframe he was leaning against, “You are one beautiful distraction, darling. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to stay focused on politics when I have the brightest star in Prythian right at my side. That’s all.”

You roll your eyes regardless of the fact you’re now sure you didn’t need to put blush on when doing your make up earlier. “Oh, yeah, cover it up, Mr. High Lord,” you huff in faux annoyance, though perhaps some real insecurity.

Rhysand was quick to notice that, and even quicker to invade your personal space by wrapping an arm around your waist and guiding you to his chest. “Don’t forget Mr. High Lord needs his Mrs. High Lady there,” he coos, grinning when his cheesy words evoke a sweet laugh from your lips.

You decide to change the topic rather than continue to brood over the inevitable reality of the ball you are about to be an unwanted spotlight in. “Is everyone else ready?” you ask, thinking of your friends who also are expected to be attending due to political reasons. Azriel, Cassian, and even Mor were always expected to at least show their faces.

Rhysand nods idly, clearly too distracted by you to shift his mind to be thinking about them. “They’re waiting, but I’m sure they won’t mind it if we’re a little late,” he says, grinning like a feline as he leans down over you to try and capture your lips with his. You evade Rhysand’s flirtatious attempts to seduce you by leaning back and resting your palm against his chest.

“Nuh-uh. No way am I being late to this thing,” though you pause and return his playful grin, “though if it goes well, maybe we can celebrate later. The zipper on this dress is pretty difficult to undo,” you hum.

“I’d be glad to lend a hand with that.” he winks, smiling like a fool as his boyish attitude earns yet another laugh from you.

Rhysand was a tempting sight to be seen, though. It appears as though he wanted to make you two look like dynastic royalty with the way you both are dressed, perhaps to look utterly untouchable to the rebellious crowd you are about to endure. His suit was pitch black, tailored perfectly to hug his V-shaped waist and embroidered with deep purple lacing at its hems. His sleek black hair is pushed back with what you assume is gel, though either by Rhysand’s doing or its own failure some of raven strands had fallen down over his forehead. You couldn’t help but make the allusion of you being the stars and him being the milky way.

“Alright, let’s go before you get too carried away,” you insist. And with that, Rhysand pulls you closer to him and winnows you to where your friends wait—some more impatiently, as Azriel stands with his arms crossed and an accusing expression at the two of you for being late.

By the time you arrive in the Court of Nightmares, you realize the party wasn’t starting without Rhysand and you. The throne room was done up extravagantly to meet the expectations of the High Fae citizens of Hewn City, the pure silver decorations a stark contrast to the deep, shiny ebony that the room was etched from.

Beautiful faces all around the room turn to watch you and your mate enter, their drinks idle in their hands and their conversations paused so that they can get a good look at the new High Lady. You swallow, keeping your chin up and moving on to the main floor alongside your mate. The back of Rhysand’s hand brushes yours, and when you turn to look up at him you see that he’s offering you his arm. You link your elbow with his, allowing him to lead you the rest of the way into the parted crowds.

When the pair of you begin to near the dais, you see only one throne sits at the centre of it. Rhysand seems to have this planned, though, as he gently guides you away and lets go of your elbow once you reach a small cluster of nobles. Of course, it all came down to symbolism and perception, because rulers who are supposed to be equals should have their own thrones to sit, and holding on to you when not walking would be seen as more controlling than chivalrous.

“High Lord, it’s been quite some time since you’ve visited,” one of the Fae spoke. Her features were sharp and dark, brought out by her even darker makeup. To your surprise, she turns to look at you, “And you’re not alone. You must be our new High Lady, I’ve never seen you at any of the parties here.” the nameless female hums, her gaze dragging down along you. You can see in her brown eyes she finds nothing to criticize as she releases a small ‘hmph’ of both disappointment and approval.

“Yes, I am. I’m glad to finally have the opportunity to visit Hewn City properly.” you respond, offering a small, neutral smile. You decided that maybe if you treat these people politely, and not allow any snide remarks to outwardly anger you, they would see you as immune to their judgment and would back down.

The female raises her brow. Rhysand later would tell you her name is Emelia, daughter of a family known for trades. But when you glance to your side, you realize your mate has been pulled aside with Mor in what looks like an unpleasant conversation with Keir, the steward of Hewn City.

Emelia decides to strike while you’re alone, having no respect for someone who, technically, wasn’t her direct authority, “Well, that makes it sounds like you weren’t allowed to visit the Court. Why, does your High Lord keep you at arm’s length?” she drawls, sipping her golden-flaked wine in a weak attempt to hide her triumphant smirk.

Your back straightens, stunned for only a moment at her implication. “Well, it’s just a little difficult finding free time to revel so often when there are duties I must see to for the Night Court as a whole. I’m not sure if you will understand, however, considering how many of these occasions you’ve mentioned you spend your time going to.” you quip, quickly realizing that being nice and courteous to people wouldn’t work, and that Rhysand was unfortunately right to maintain equilibrium in Hewn City through intimidation.

You leave Emelia fuming in your wake, not bidding her a farewell as you head to Rhysand who now converses with Keir alone. Your mate looks relieved when he sees you coming, moving like a wisp in your black dress across the ebony throne room. The male to his left, however, looks less than pleased to see you coming in contrast.

“Keir,” you greet as Rhysand bends to kiss your cheek in loving greeting.

Keir only says your name in return before looking to Rhysand. “Well, that’s all from me, enjoy your fun, Rhysand.” he says, sending a scrutinizing look your way before departing.

Your mate lets him go without the satisfaction of a response. Rhysand sighs, turning to face you and reaching a hand to adjust the positioning of your necklace. His hand brushes against your collarbone as you meet his eyes. “Was she giving you trouble?” he says, recalling that he had to leave you with Emelia, “I felt some tension on your end of the bond,” he murmurs, careful of the level of his voice due to the room being full of prying, pointy ears.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you assure him, taking your turn to do some adjusting by straightening the sculpted fabric of his overcoat. You thought you had managed yourself well with Emelia, who you assume was somewhere between a jealous young female to another rebellious citizen spewing the opinions fed to her by others, and your confidence began to return until you and Rhysand were silent enough for a conversation to reach your ears.

“Look at her. Dressed like a queen and yet she does nothing for the Night Court,” a male voice scoffed. You hear female and male voices laughing almost forcefully in adoration. The male continues, his voice only slightly muffled from the crowd and the distant music, “All I’m saying is, I don’t even work in politics and I could probably do a better job than her.”

After some more irritating cackling, a female voice pipes in, “The dress is tacky, anyway.”

With your heart in your stomach, you don’t even have the chance to look around and locate the owners of these voices as you notice your mate has already walked the few feet over to the small group near the edge of the throne room.

You worry that following after your mate and standing there as he, you assume, chides the yapping male, you make your way to the nearby refreshment table. Azriel thankfully stands there, who seems to be avidly trying to blend into the wall in order to avoid conversing with the unpleasant guests.

“Pretend we’re having a conversation. I’m eavesdropping.” you tell him once you arrive, and Azriel responds with a joking ‘yes, ma’am’ as you become another one of the pointy-eared eavesdroppers.

“Cielo,” you hear Rhysand drawl, a wicked grin on his face as he inserts himself into their conversation. Satisfaction begins to lift your heart back into place as the group’s laughter comes to an abrupt halt.

“Are you implying you think you’d be a better High Lady for me?” Rhysand hums, brow raising at Cielo, who now looks stiff with embarrassment. “Really, I had no idea you harboured such feelings for me, I’m truly flattered.” Rhysand continues just enough so that Cielo’s friends have turned their amusement to their rather humiliated looking pal.

Rhysand takes a step forward, a few inches taller than the glaring male. “I’d hate to break your heart, but if you ever speak about your High Lady and my mate in such a disgusting manner again, I will make an example out of you as to exactly what the punishment is for disrespecting your authority.” and just as his friends began to snicker, Rhysand’s sharp violet gaze turns to them. “And that goes for all of you,” he snaps. Rhysand stalks away, leaving the small crowd of Fae in silence as he finds you next to Azriel.

“You know,” you say cheekily, “I could’ve handled that, too.”

Rhysand sighs as he takes a glass of wine from the table, likely wanting some alcohol to stroke away the flames of his temper. “I know, darling. Sorry for beating you to it, I just couldn’t stand by and listen to them spit bullshit like that.” he scoffs. You can’t be bothered to be mad—too busy gleaming in triumph and pride over your love’s protectiveness.

“Well, I think they learned their lesson,” you giggle, glancing to the group who now watch you and Rhysand in weariness rather than entitlement.

“Good. If they can’t appreciate what you do for them, they could at least keep their mouths shut.” he hisses. You rest your hand on Rhysand’s elbow to bring his attention back to you.

“Why don’t we dance? That way, no one can judge us for not speaking to anyone.” you suggest.

Rhysand takes your hand and kisses the back of it, “I like the sound of that.” he agrees.

After a night full of dancing and more inevitable political conversations, you and Rhysand winnow back to the House of Wind as you call it a night. You find yourself standing in front of your long mirror, trying to reach back to undo the finicky zipper of your dress. You see Rhysand take a step closer to you in the mirror and feel as his hands snake into place on each side of your waist.

“So, how about that celebrating?” he grins to your reflection.

[elysiaheaven]

KC cast with a streamer reader!- who's a serial killer like them!

Reader is

V

V finds your dark humor and unapologetic nature intriguing and hates it (Because it doesn't remind him of Ronin, trust). Tho Your shared interest in justice through violence (allows for deep conversations that often blur the line between morality and chaos.

He feels a strong urge to protect you, treating you like a delicate flower amid a storm. He appreciates your fierceness when talking abt your victims or discussing ethics in a humorous, detached manner.

V’s flirting is awkward yet sincere (When he starts to like you he tries). He struggles to express his feelings, often delivering compliments in the same cold manner he uses to discuss your latest "projects."

V loves animals, so he might show off a new pet or plant during your streams, inviting you to do the same. You both share a passion for nurturing life while secretly discussing death.

He grapples with the morality of your actions, often reflecting on whether your “mission” serves a greater good or merely satisfies your own darker desires. His love for you adds complexity to his views.

Misaki

Misaki loves your streams, your chaotic escapades, often turning your dark activities into comedic gold. Your goofy nature matches perfectly, creating entertaining and unpredictable streams.

Your playful, snarky interactions draw in viewers, with you teasing Misaki about their darker tendencies while they counter with silly remarks about “killing the competition.”

Misaki is deeply supportive, always cheering you on during streams. They value your ability to relate to their chaotic lifestyle, making your bond feel genuine and lively.

You might host cooking streams where you whip up meals with an edge—using “blood” as a cooking ingredient (like red food dye) while laughing about your “killing skills.”

Despite her silly demeanor, Misaki is aware of the emotional turmoil that comes with your lifestyle. She is there for you during low moments, offering light-hearted jokes to ease the heaviness.

Angel

Angel appreciates your sweet and dark side, blending her optimistic pessimism with your chaotic nature. Your streams could explore dark themes while maintaining an upbeat vibe that attracts viewers.

In moments of doubt, Angel is there to uplift you, reminding you of the beauty in your chaos and the importance of embracing who you are, even as a killer.

You might host streams that glamorize your lifestyle, wearing stunning outfits while discussing your “projects.” Angel encourages you to flaunt your darkness and embrace your identity.

Given her own struggles with manic episodes, Angel is sensitive to your needs. You both have open discussions about mental health, ensuring you both feel supported.

Together, you might create art or music inspired by your experiences, sharing your twisted love with the world through unique and creative expressions.

You challenge each other’s perspectives, often leading to deep discussions about morality, making your relationship both fun and thought-provoking.

Ronin

Ronin revels in your darkness, viewing your relationship as a canvas for corruption. He encourages you to embrace your murderous tendencies and even pushes you further into chaos.

Your streams are filled with dark humor and playful banter, where Ronin might take on a dominant role, teasing you and challenging you to outdo him in “kills.”

Beneath his playful exterior, Ronin is conflicted. He finds himself falling for you, struggling with his feelings as he admires your darkness but also fears losing himself in your chaotic bond.

You brainstorm ideas for streams that feature elaborate setups for your “projects,” each one more twisted than the last, often resulting in a grotesque yet artistic performance.

Ronin’s romantic gestures are laced with darkness. He might present you with a bouquet of “bloody” flowers or a heart-shaped trinket that’s a little too realistic.

You share secrets about your “work” during quiet moments, forging a deeper connection. Ronin is captivated by your innocence amidst your gruesome lifestyle, often leaving him longing for a deeper understanding.

[tinydefector]

Hi i don't know if you are taking requests for bayverse but if you do can i get bayverse Ironhide x female reader, fluff and smut. Good luck of you do❤️

Minx

Warning: Smut, Oral fem receiving.

Word count: 2k

(Bayverse) Ironhide x Fem Human reader

Before I start, I'm not very good with writing Bayverse bots, so I hope this came out alright.

Also, I hope I did the reader well, I dont really write fem reader.

Request and ask open, read pinned post

Masterlist

Ironhide Masterlist

---------

She's using his revision mirror again to touch up her lipstick. It wouldn't bother Ironhide as much if it wasn't for the fact she was flaunting herself at him while they were driving. 

Ironhide let out an exasperated vent. On the surface he tried to remain stoic, but inside circuits were frayed from the incessant primping and preening whenever she had the chance to ride in his cab. 

"Must you always fuss so much?" he grumbled, unable to keep the irritation from his voice. "I am driving, in case you've forgotten. And I suspect your antics are meant more for distracting me than seeing to your own looks."

She had been batting her lashes and smiling his way ever since they departed their last stop, and his patience for such frivolities was running low. so for now he strove to ignore the human's attempts at getting a rise out of him, less he ran them off the road.

His engine rumbled in a weary sigh. "Focus on the task at hand, little one. We'll be back at base soon enough."

She shoots him a smile in his mirror again. "And here I thought you enjoyed my company, getting sick of me already Hide?" She teases him.

Ironhide's engine responded with a grumble that was half irritation, half amusement. As trying as his Minx could be at times, he had to admit her bold spirit was refreshing and she did keep him on his toes.

"In small doses only, little witch," he retorted, though without any real bite to his words. "Your antics might be tolerable in brief stretches, keep your optics on the road, less we get ambushed by Decepticons" 

Still, there was a certain grudging fondness in the way his voice. For all her mischief, the human's fearless nature was what had drawn him to her, she wasn't military but a chance encounter had him on the run with her from Decepticon fire.

 In her own tiny way, she helped ease some of the weariness that had built up over countless vorns of endless conflict. Her voice he could listen to for aeons. 

Part of Ironhide didn't truly mind the company...so long as she minded her manners while in his cab, and kept her hands to herself while they drove.

"Fine guess I'll have to show off for someone else back on base" she states. He knows she's trying to get under his plating, and she knows how to get him. 

His engine rumbled warningly at that comment. While he knew she was just prodding him to get a reaction, the suggestion of flirting with another stirred a possessiveness in his circuits. 

"Watch it, fleshie," he growled, though without any real heat to the words. 

"Keep carrying on so and I may be inclined to park your backside right here until we're done," he blustered. But his warming cab and rumbling engine betrayed that any real ire was short-lived where she was concerned. Still, it wouldn't do to let her think she'd won so easily. 

Soft laughter falls from her lips, " jealous bot" she shoots back at him as the two finally arrive back at base. 

She gets chatty with security At the entrance to N.E.S.T 

Ironhide's engine uttered another warning grumble as she chatted away with the other humans, seemingly having forgotten her promise to mind her manners. His patience was wearing thin after the long drive, and he'd had just about enough of her frivolous games.

Pulling up as close to the hangar doors as his alt mode would allow, he popped open the driver side door with a pointed snap. "Out. Now," he rumbled, unwilling to play chauffeur any longer while she was in her mood to cause chaos.  

When she turned back with that coquettish smirk, Ironhide growled deep in his intakes. "Don't test me, fleshie. You've had your fun, now get inside like I said. Unless you'd rather I carry you in?" 

He knew full well manhandling the human would be crossing a line. But she had a way of pushing all his buttons without fail. 

She slowly moves to get out of his front seat. Her hands linger on the dashboard for a moment before she steps out onto the concrete. She's quick to walk inside after giving his tailgate a slap, a small laugh leaves her as she runs. 

With a grumble and hiss of hydraulics, Ironhide transformed once she had cleared his cab, looming over the hangar entrance. Ironhide let out an annoyed huff of exhaust as the girl once more tested his patience, That sharp little slap to his tailgate was the final straw.

Revving his engine menacingly, Ironhide rumbled forward until his massive bulk filled the hangar entrance, blocking any hope of escape back out the entrance. "Minx," he accused, optics narrowing at the smiling human within. "Do you enjoy pushing me this far every time?"

Despite his gruff tone, there was no true anger. After all this time, she knew full well how to get under his plating without ever crossing a line. And loathe as he was to admit, some small part of Ironhide even admired her spirit. 

Still, there were consequences to be had for such teasing. Leaning in until he is eye level with her "Consider this your official timeout, fleshling. Until I deem you've learned your lesson, you'll remain right where I put you."

With that, he sealed the hangar shut with a steely grinding of gears.  "Iron!" She squeals out only to gasp more as Ironhide grabs her before continuing further into his hanger, his human in hand. Her legs dangle between his digits as she holds onto him. "Oh my God you're an ass! Give me a warning next time" She shoots back at him

Ironhide huffed a gruff chuckle at the human's outburst. "And miss that precious little squeal? Not a chance, fleshie." 

"You know full well your games grate on my circuits, princess," he rumbled lightly. "A little fear is good for the spark. Keeps you on your toes and out of trouble." Not that he would ever hurt her. 

Once she was steady on her pedes again standing on their shared berth, more so crudely made slab with piles of her blankets and pillows on it "Consider that payback for your mischief, little pest. Next time, mind your hands and that smart mouth, lest I find a use for them." His field pulsed warm with amusement. 

 Soft little noises leave her as Ironhide's digits wrap around her pressing gently into her side, back and against her chest. 

Ironhide vented softly as his powerful digits carefully cradled the human's tiny frame. For all their teasing and bickering, in quiet moments like this he was reminded of just how fragile organics were. 

His field pulsed warm and gentle, laced with protectiveness as he gradually increased the pressure, testing her limits but taking care not to crush even an ounce of strength. "Comfortable, little one?" he rumbled softly. 

When she offered no protest, Ironhide began slowly massaging her back struts, mimicking the way she sometimes soothed his aching finger joints. Though his plating was rough-hewn metal and her skin oh so delicate.

A rumble rose from his frame, vibrating through her in a sensation she called a "purr." His optics were lidded in contentment, focusing only on her within his grasp. 

She slowly leans back into his touch. And as his digits travel further down she arches into his touch a small whine falls from her lips. She slowly grinds against Ironhide teasing digit. trying to make him get the picture of what she wanted and why she had been teasing him all day. 

Ironhide's engine revved sharply in surprise at the reaction his gentle touch elicited. His optics shuttered briefly.  "Minx," he scolded gently. "All this torment was for my attention, then?"

Lowering his face close, he nuzzled her tiny form with care before capturing her lips in a chaste kiss, its slow and soft, flesh against metal. Another whine leaves her lips as she looks up at him. "You've been too busy recently, I missed you" she states as he lays her down against the piles of blankets. Slowly hiking her dress up only to be met with nothing underneath. Ironhide stilled, intake caught in surprise at her display. His optics roved hungrily over the tempting view before him, unable to deny the allure of her plan so cunningly executed.

A low rumble rose from his chassis. "Devious creature," he purred, engine revving at the wanton invitation in her gaze. How could he refuse when she had so clearly orchestrated this?

His name softly falls from her lips. Her eyes flicker to where he kneels in front of the berth. Leaning down, he nuzzled her frame with utmost care "All this just for me?" His field pulsed hot and heady as he traced the seam of her folds with a single digit. 

Rising temptation warred with duty and honour. But her needful whine as she canted her hips persuaded him. Slowly Ironhide runs his glossa across sweet skin. She whines loudly when he leans down and runs his glossa between her folds sucking softly on her clit before he delivers back into teasing. Her hands grip his helm quickly. "Ironhide please" she calls out.

His glossa is enveloped in tight velvet warmth. His intake caught on a groan at sensations. He could never get enough of how sweet she tasted, she is sweeter than pre war energon candies. Ironhide rumbled deeply at her pleas, the sound vibrating through her very core as he worshipped her flesh. Making her gasp and cry out brought him no small amount of satisfaction to reduce his teasing femme to putty in his grasp with nothing but tongue. 

"Easy, little one," he crooned against her wetness. With maddening slowness he circled her clit, cataloguing every hitch of her breath, every whimper and sigh. Ever so carefully Ironhide delved his glossa inside.

 Ironhide rumbled deep in approval as she rode his glossa without restraint, soft hips bucking against his mouth. making her pleasure his sole focus in that moment. Her cries and moans only spurred him on, lapping eagerly at her slick flesh.

One hand braced against her hip to hold her steady, But Ironhide was far from passive, pressing his glossa as deep as he was able between each thrust. The vibrations of his rumbling engine only enhanced every sensation. 

When her hips began to canter erratically, Ironhide redoubled his efforts. Cried out moans leave her lips as her orgasm hits, hips bucking in irregular patterns as she sobs out Ironhide's name. With one final curl of his glossa, he felt her walls flutter madly around him. Greedily Ironhide lapped up every drop of her release, savouring this sweet taste. 

Yet still he craved more of her intoxicating and addictive taste, seeking to prolong her bliss for as long as was within his power. 

Carefully he manoeuvred her limp frame until she straddled his glossa once more, keening softly as the hypersensitive flesh of her clit met his eager mouth. Slowly Ironhide tongued her folds, memorising every detail as her flavour grew sweeter still in her fluttering aftershocks. "Ironhide!" She moans out loudly. 

One of his hands trailed maddeningly along her back, tracings her spine, caressing and stroking anew. Ironhide growled around his mouthful, greedily drinking in every drop he could  as shudders wracked her frame.

Retreating only when she sagged fully sated against him, Ironhide cradled her close to his chassis, content merely to hold her. Her breathing calmed as he nuzzled her adoringly, spark swelling with quiet joy. 

She lays content against him, soft pants leaving her lips as Ironhide brings her pile of blankets up for her. She slowly snuggles into him through the blankets. Ironhide himself is content to put off mission reports for his little minx.

Ironhide's engine rumbled softly in wordless affection as the human curled contentedly against his chassis, safely wrapped in makeshift padding. Her soft respiration and fluttering pulse cycled down into sated recharge, safe in his guarded embrace.

Adjusting until he was lounging comfortably, Ironhide idly stroked her naked back, tracing glyphs into soft flesh

Until then, Ironhide was content simply to monitor her recharge and bask in the aftermath. The closeness of her tiny frame to his mighty systems never ceased to stir something deep within.

Her presence soothed the savage rages of battle, tempering even his trigger-happy impulses into something nobler. "Minx" he mumbles softly before settling in to recharge himself. 

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Spicy Shion Madarame Headcannons

Pairings: Shion x reader, Shion x Sanzu x reader

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, switch/vers!Shion, switch/vers!Sanzu, sadomasochism, rough sex, degradation, petplay

First thing's first, I HC Shion as gay (hence why this is x male reader specifically)

He truly thought that he was bisexual when he was a young teen, but eventually figured out that that was not the case

He's absolutely a bottom (and a brat) and he WILL flaunt that fact 😅

Shion's dick is definitely on the small side; only 4 inches erect

He enjoys all manner of degradation, just don't make fun of him for that ⬆️ please. You can call his cock cute or say “pretty little cock” but that's as far as he will let it go

When he ejaculates it's always in small spurts. He doesn't really cum a lot at a time

Speaking of cumming, Shion cannot get off by humping things...no matter how hard the pretty boy tries, it only leads to hours of working himself up until he eventually gives up in frustration — still hard 'n horny, but unable to cum

In other words, use that as a punishment when he misbehaves ⬆️

This guy. He's such a sadomasochist–

Likes it rough for sure. Likes it when you slap him while he's jerking off, step on him, bite him!!, just give it to him rough and he'll be very happy~

As mentioned, Shion is a sadist too. He very much enjoys sinking his teeth into your flesh and leaving painful scratch marks all over you

Shion wants to wake up covered in bruises from how hard you were gripping him last night; with your own set of bruises from his grip to match

Refers to his hole as a pussy/boi pussy more often than not (and hopes that you'll indulge him and do the same 👉👈)

Tell the cutie how much you love his lil pussy if you want to see him instantly harden

Shion has a pretty bad daddy kink too...so I hope you enjoy your partner calling you 'daddy' constantly

Including in public!! Shion calls you daddy anywhere, in front of anyone

Don't tell anyone, but he has a bit of a crush on Sanzu... 🤫

Sometimes fantasizes of getting DP'ed by you and Sanzu. Both of you roughing Shion up while your cocks stretch his hole–

In his daydream, Shion is sandwiched in between the strong bodies of Sanzu and his lovely boyfriend. Moaning shamelessly as his ass gets the pounding of a lifetime

“Yeah, fuck– such a tight cunt. Y'sure you want us to use you, Shion?” Pathetic whimpers spill out while the blond nods frantically, gripping onto Sanzu's shoulders for support. Standing behind Shion is you, easing your dick inside of your boyfriend's hole. His legs are held up so that he's completely off the ground, allowing your dick to enter him at a better angle

Across from him is the aforementioned Sanzu, with eyes glazed over in lust from the sight before him. Who knew Shion was such a slut? A filthy whore who begs for multiple cocks to stretch his ‘pussy’, as the guy calls it. Shion's twitching and whimpering cause Sanzu's own dick to twitch inside of his boxers, he stares at the cock defiling the blond's ass currently and has to stop himself from groaning

Sanzu leans forward to capture Shion's lips in a kiss, pawing at his friend's body out of some desire to be closer. Their erections rub against each other all the while — Sanzu's still clothed dick presses against Shion's smaller length as it leaks, dribbling precum down his shaft and smearing the substance over Sanzu's underwear

With his face now close to yours, you sneak a kiss to Sanzu's temple, watching the guys sloppily make out right up against your shoulder. Sanzu gropes Shion greedily, getting louder and more desperate as the seconds go by. You finally speak up and urge Sanzu to, “Put it i-in...he can take it.”

With zero hesitation, Sanzu flings his boxers off and pumps his dick a few times, spreading his own precum along his shaft before pressing the tip against Shion's stretched hole–

A montage of nasty, rough sex plays in Shion's mind; His lil pussy gets wrecked over and over, stretched to its limit by your fat cocks. His lil hole gets creampied again and again, only for one of you to slap his cheek and stuff him again. His lil cunt is left gaping and red from the repeated abuse, displayed in the air for his daddies to admire

Just before he wakes back up, back to reality, Shion will imagine the tender ministrations along his skin. The caress of hands on every bruise blooming on his body. Gentle kisses everywhere, from both of his boyfriends at once, apologizing for the pain of it all earlier. Praises burned into his brain, coming at him from all directions while the two of you paint Shion's skin with even more kisses and hickeys

—

Shion is big into petplay too! Please buy him a custom collar! He'll love you forever and then some if you present him with such a thoughtful gift 🥺💛

He's so chihuahua-coded. Feisty, loud, but so super adorable...you can't be mad at such a cute face for very long

Daydreams of having a puppy playdate with Sanzu!!!

Force Shion to eat out Sanzu's ass while you fuck his mouth. Make the pink-haired pretty boy slobber all over your bone(r) and degrade him. Order Shion to pound Sanzu's hole with his cute cock, shallowly penetrating his ass. The blond will desperately hump Sanzu's ass, pressing against his back and probably playing with his chest at the same time

He may be a bottom, but sometimes he gets off on the thought of you ordering him to fuck someone else with his little dick. Shion doesn't have experience topping, his only instinct is to hump and rut into a hole once he's inside, chasing his own pleasure. Panting like some bitch in heat (he's so fucking adorable– I CANNOT AAAHH 😤)

[justanoasisimagines]

First Impressions.

Summary; Bruce is distracted when he meets you at a Gala Pairing; Bruce Wayne x Female Reader WordCount; 552 Credit to cafekitsune for the banner and the divider!

Bruce navigated the room with practiced ease. He slipped into the room with precision. Bruce knew exactly what to say, and who to say it to. Bruce knew the attendees who he needed to work harder to obtain what he wanted.

Events like this Bruce often remained focused during a Gala such as these. Albeit, he often found himself bored. It was all about keeping up appearances.

However, Bruce was distracted tonight. A long flowing black gown glided across the floor. Eyes met momentarily as Bruce allowed a subtle smile to grace his lips. A mirror image as you brought a champagne flute to your crimson-painted lips.

Bruce didn't care for any other guests tonight. Except you. He wanted to make your acquaintance. Suddenly, Bruce was no longer engaged in the current conversation. He nodded his head, providing short answers. Desperate to end the conversation to make his introductions.

Bruce allowed the conversation five more minutes before he made his excuses. He took two champagne flutes from the waiter passing by.

You were alone, taking a breather from the constant barrage of questions and fake pleasantries. Unlike many you were attending because you cared about helping under privileged children. Unlike those who were heard to spread and hear gossip.

"You look like you could use this" Your eyes glanced up to be met with the hose for the evening. Blue eyes met yours. "Thank you, this place looks beautiful." You examined the room taking in the sight. His team had done an amazing job. Except Bruce couldn't admire he view because he couldn't take his eyes off of you. You were breathtaking.

"I can't take the credit. I have an excellent team. They're the ones who made it possible." "Well then you have a great team, Mr. Wayne, you should be proud." "Thank you and please call me Bruce." Bruce angled himself towards you, interested in taking in every minuscule detail about you. That was only the beginning for Bruce, he wanted to know you inside and out. Bruce's nerves were on edge. He'd never been so compelled before. Never by another person. "So what brings you here tonight?" "I work alongside the charity. You're doing excellent work you have no idea how much of an impact the donations will have getting kids off the streets, giving them a chance at life." Bruce admired the way you spoke, The passion in your voice, the way your animated hands reiterated that. "I'm always willing to help any way I can. Gotham's youth are going to bring change. It's something I'm passionate about Bruce observed your smile widen. "I wish others here tonight held your sentiment. Most are here for the publicity and the idle gossip. Tonight's more about flaunting their wealth. They will not give a second thought to the children tonight." "Perhaps we could arrange dinner? Talk about the ways I could help. I'd love to get more involved. "Thank you, I don't know what to say." "Say yes. Let me take you out. Somewhere more intimate and less pretentious. We can talk about everything and make a plan. Bruce gave you a moment, hoping this could provide the opportunity to get to know you and create a different change rather than fighting Gotham's underbelly. "Sure I'll go to dinner with you."

[thee-horny-thicky]

Consequences

So a while back, I wrote what was supposed to be the beginning of another fic, about Suguru losing his girl to Satoru. However, I never picked it back up. With Savior concluded, I'll probably start working on it soon. Until then, enjoy this snippet :)

Every little choice you make has the potential to affect the very course of your future. Asking someone how they’re doing may prevent them from ending their own life. Deciding to ask a stranger for directions can lead to meeting your soulmate. Waking up too late can save you from being a victim of a brutal attack. Accepting a drink from a stranger can lead to you being kidnapped and sold. Driving your car just a little too fast can result in you dying a fiery death.

Making little choices that alter your life and that of those around you is the very basis of the butterfly effect. Your actions always have consequences, after all.

Suguru Geto was now learning this the hard way. Not answering a few texts, rejecting some invitations to hang out, and missing a few days of school seemed like minor choices. He hadn’t been in the right headspace for the past few weeks. Riko’s death had impacted him, and every day, he regretted not allowing Satoru to slaughter those fucking twisted cultists.

Their applause continued to echo through his head, the memory of the way they rejoiced at the death of an innocent girl never failing to sicken him.

He’d thought nothing of taking time to himself to cope and intended to make it up to every single one of his friends. You, most especially. He’d begun to long for the feeling of you in his arms and planned to treat you to a date night to apologize for his absence.

But actions have consequences, and the consequence for his was seeing Satoru flaunt you around the school. Unlike him, the heir of the Gojo clan had no reservations about showing you off to the world.

And why wouldn’t he? You were so quick-witted, a living challenge to the idea that pretty girls couldn’t be intelligent or capable. Your cursed energy could turn explosive, and he delighted in seeing the sadistic smile on your gorgeous face as you blew up 1st-grade curses with ease. You weren’t from a major clan, but you were from an upper-middle-class family of sorcerers that’d traveled the world, making you miles more experienced than most of your peers.

Your knowledge was something he loved about you, and your technique was something he admired about you. He adored seeing you high off adrenaline and caught up in a battle, how light your laugh sounded, the way your pretty eyes gleamed. The nature of your technique made you destructive, and you embraced that wholeheartedly.

You’d been the yin to his yang, and he allowed you to slip through his fingers.

Suguru hadn’t wanted to broadcast your relationship, not ready to fully commit to you. He was a part of the strongest duo, and that came with a lot of responsibility, which allowed little room for love.

Or, so it had seemed, as Satoru seemed to be juggling the two just fine. Because unlike him, Satoru had taken Riko’s death as a testament to how short life was and didn’t hesitate to take his chance with you.

He regretted not adhering to your pleas to publicly claim you, and anger would flare inside of him every time he wondered how long you held feelings for Satoru. Surely, his time away from you wasn’t enough for your feeling to fade away.

But either you were a damned good actress, or you’d truly fallen out of love with him, and transferred your feeling to his white-haired friend. The two of you were caught up in your own little world, giggling as Shoko looked at you and Satoru in disgust. Watching the two of you was sickeningly sweet, and whereas the brunette seemed repulsed by your bountiful PDA, it only made Suguru bitter.

It should be him holding you, not Satoru. The man already had everything, being blessed in every way imaginable. He had looks, money, power, and a stupidly large personality. Surely, it wouldn’t be too much to let Suguru have you? If anything, you should be his reward for all he’s gone through, not another thing he’s lost.

Satoru brushed his lips over yours, and though the kiss was chaste, it was too much for Suguru to bear. Were you trying to make him jealous, allowing your ex’s friend to be so handsy with you?

As Shoko faked a gag, Suguru shot from his seat. His friends look at him in confusion, while you merely rolled your eyes. When you look at him, there was no bitterness or satisfaction in your gaze. No, it was worse with that, as your eyes held no discernable feelings for him. It was a far cry from the way you looked at Satoru, so full of affection, the same you way used to look at him.

“You good, bro?” Satoru questioned; his arm wrapped around your shoulders.

No, he wasn’t, and his best friend was part of the reason why. He never gave much thought to the flirty comments Satoru aimed your way, because that’s just who Satoru is, a flirt. He thought it was just playful banter, not that he was expressing his true feelings for you.

How wrong he’d been.

“I’m fine,” he gritted out, gathering his things.

He could tell none of you believed him, but he didn’t care. He needed to get away from you and Satoru before he did something he’d regret.

“Where are you going?” Shoko asked, twirling the stick she kept in her mouth.

To find a curse to brutally kill. He needed a way to release his jealous rage.

“I have something to do.”

“Oh, wait, before you go, we’re going out tonight,” Satoru revealed, gently stroking your back as you leaned against him. “Wanna come?”

And see you all dolled up, wrapped around Satoru, and pretending he didn’t exist? He’d have to pass.

“I’ll see.”

“Oh, c’mon,” you whined, finally acknowledging him. “We haven’t hung out in so long!”

He had to hold back a scoff at your faux concern. If you really did care, you would’ve waited for him until he was ready to come back to you.

“…I’ll think about it.”

“I’ll text you the deets,” you said, ignoring his hesitance as you pulled your phone from your pocket.

Nodding, he began to walk away, stopping when his phone buzzed. His eyes widened at your message.

You: Stop being a little bitch and text Satoru back. He misses you.

You: I know you’ve seen them.

He quickly put his phone away, worried he’d throw the device if he stared at your texts much longer. Of course, you didn’t miss him. No, you were only concerned about Satoru.

Turning back, he shot you a glare, but your focus was again on Satoru. Not even Shoko noticed him, too concerned about making fun of you two.

Not bothering to hide his soured expression, he stomped away. Maybe he would go out tonight, just to put a damper on yours. Perhaps, he’d find a pretty thing to cuddle up with as you had with his best friend, though he doubted he’d elicit a reaction from you. Regardless, he needed some way to get the bitterness out of his system, and fucking it out might just be the best release possible.

So, as he stomped away, he fired off a text to Satoru to let him know he’d be in attendance.

[queenshelby]

An Illicit Affair

Part 12: The Greenhouse

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

Dressed in a black dress, you arrived at the university event early, ensuring that everything was running smoothly. 

The hall was decorated beautifully, with fairy lights strung along the walls and fresh flowers adorning each tall table. The sound of soft music filled the air, creating a romantic atmosphere while waiters walked around, offering drinks and canapes. 

As guests trickled in, you scanned the crowd, searching for the people you knew. You spotted James and Lucy standing near the entrance, laughing and chatting with others. Just like Cillian and the chair of the UNESCO board in London, James was a guest speaker at the event and since you, amongst some other students, were organizing the fund raiser, you had to act professional and polite towards everyone attending.

Your gaze then wandered across the room again and, eventually, you spotted Cillian who was accompanied by his wife Danielle and Max. 

The sight of them sent a rush of conflicting emotions through you. You wanted to see Cillian yet dreaded the encounter. 

After ignoring his text message a couple of weeks ago, following your date with James, you knew that your encounter with him might be awkward and Danielle's presence didn't ease the situation either.

She looked stunning herself and, ever since she married Cillian, she never missed an opportunity to showcase her wealth and influence as, clearly, she enjoyed his celebrity status more than he did. 

Danielle dressed up like she owned the fashion industry, wearing a white dress. Her blonde hair was styled to perfection, cascading effortlessly down her shoulders, and she flaunted her 4,000-pound designer bag with pride.

Max too was dressed to impressed, wearing a black suit and a slim tie. 

He couldn't deny that he looked good, but there was a slight awkwardness to his demeanor, a shadow of pain lurking behind his confident façade. His gaze shifted discreetly to you, a small frown creasing his forehead before he turned his attention to the person beside him.

Cillian, on the other hand, gave you a knowing smile and you knew that, at the very least, you had to greet him and his wife.

So, mustering up your courage, you approached them, smiling awkwardly.

"Y/N," Danielle greeted you, extending her slender arm, offering her manicured hand. "It is so good to see you again," she said, her voice dripping with artificial warmth just like when you had visited Max's family home in Dublin some time ago. There was always something odd about her but you knew to remain polite nonetheless. 

"It's good to see you too, Mrs Murphy," you muttered, shaking her hand briefly before also greeting Cillian and Max with a friendly nod.

"Hey," Max greeted you casually, his gaze lingering on you longer than necessary.

"You look incredible!" he added bluntly, a playful grin spreading across his lips. That remark took you aback but you smiled anyway, hoping that no one noticed Max's comment.

"Thanks," you responded shyly, your cheeks burning red in embarrassment as you quickly moved away from him.

"And, how have you been Mr Murphy?" you asked Cillian politely without making direct eye contact, simply to avoid having to further engage in a conversation with Max. 

"Good, thank you," Cillian replied, his tone low and gravelly. "You?" he asked, his gaze flickering downwards, a ghost of a smile touching his lips.

"I'm doing alright," you assured him, allowing the silence to stretch between you just before Danielle whisked her husband away, seeking an introduction to Professor Smith from the UNESCO board.

"It has been good to see you Y/N. I am glad you are doing okay," Cillian remarked coldly while casting a sideways glance at you. 

"You too," you nodded and watched him disappear into the throng of attendees as a strange mix of frustration and hope coursed through you, stirring up old memories and fantasies you had tried to suppress. 

Despite your apprehension towards engaging with Cillian again however, the event progressed rather smoothly, with various speakers sharing their experiences and insights on the importance of education and literacy. 

Cillian in particular delivered a moving speech about education and empathy, weaving together personal anecdotes, and compelling statistics that brought the audience to think of the importance of being kind to one another.

"Oh god, this is getting so old," Max murmured, standing next to you while listening to his father speak. "Didn't he say this stuff a million times before?" he asked rhetorically, rolling his eyes.

"Well, for what it is worth, I think your dad's speech is quite good and articulate," you defended Cillian, unable to help yourself despite Max's cynicism.

"Yeah, but I have heard it a hundred times before," Max countered, crossing his arms defensively.

"Fair enough," you shrugged your shoulders. "But, nevertheless, it is still relevant, isn't it?" you reasoned, raising your eyebrows. "Empathy in an education setting is important, especially nowadays, in the age of social media," you argued, catching Max's attention.

"When did you become a fucking expert on social issues like this?" Max retorted, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"I mean, I'm not an expert, but I know a thing or two about it," you responded coolly, turning to look at the stage where Cillian was wrapping up his speech. "I see many patients in hospital who inflicted harm upon themselves because of bullying. It is a big issue," you told Max as Cillian ended his presentation with a powerful call to action, urging everyone present to make a difference in the lives of others.

The room erupted in applause, and Cillian graciously acknowledged the support.

As the crowd dispersed, you caught him glancing at you from the speaker's podium. The intensity behind his eyes held a peculiar mixture of warmth and longing, which caused a tremble of anticipation to ripple through your entire body. With every beat of your pulse, you became increasingly drawn to this man again and, feeling increasingly overwhelmed by your emotions, you decided to step outside for some fresh air, hoping to find a moment of peace amidst the chaos.

You leaned against the wall, closing your eyes, letting the gentle breeze brush against your face for just a moment as, suddenly, you heard some footsteps.

When you opened your eyes, you saw Cillian approaching you with a questioning expression on his face.

"Need some fresh air?" he asked with a gentle smile, causing you to nod.

"Sometimes, the noise indoors gets overwhelming, doesn't it?" he continued, gesturing towards the open door. "Makes you want to retreat somewhere quiet," he added, a knowing spark lighting up his ice-blue eyes.

"Yes, exactly," you echoed, grateful for the understanding in his words.

You glanced back inside the room to check if anyone else had joined you outside. When you realized that nobody was paying attention to you and Cillian, you let out a sigh of relief.

The moment felt heavy with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silver glow on the grounds. As the wind rustled through the trees, sending whispers of leaves dancing, you could feel Cillian's gaze on you. His proximity stirred a flutter in your chest, and you found yourself lost in his ice-blue eyes.

"You really enjoyed that, didn't you?" you said, finally breaking the silence.

"Enjoyed what?" he asked, puzzled by what you meant.

"Giving that speech," you clarified, biting your lip nervously. "It's empowering to see someone so passionate about something they believe in," you confessed, feeling a wave of admiration wash over you.

"Ah," Cillian nodded, his gaze flickering downward, thoughtful. "Yeah, it is something I don't mind talking about, I suppose," he said humbly, and, in that moment, his piercing blue eyes held a certain depth and maturity, making you feel drawn to him, his charisma undeniable.

"You suppose?" you giggled, unable to contain your amusement. "I thought you loved speaking in public," you teased him playfully, shaking your head in disbelief, knowing that, usually, he hated the attention.

"Well, sometimes I do," Cillian admitted, his gaze drifting away as it danced with the memory of the moments he spent addressing the audience. "But, honestly, I prefer smaller crowds," he added, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

You laughed at his honesty, sensing that he felt comfortable around you. This realization made you blush, a sudden surge of warmth enveloping your entire body.

"You should consider doing more speeches like that," you encouraged him, placing your hands on his arms gently. "People listen to you because of you who are. So they're impactful," you added, locking eyes with him.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment before he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Perhaps," he conceded, his voice barely louder than a whisper as, through the door and windows, you heard the next speaker, James, being introduced to the crowd.

"You should probably go inside and listen to your boyfriend speak," Cillian suggested, arching an eyebrow mischievously. "Or he might get jealous," he added, his lighthearted humor making you laugh.

"What makes you think that I am dating James?" you asked Cillian, a flush of heat coloring your cheeks.

"I just assumed," Cillian shrugged, his eyes flickering nervously. "You seemed close," he explained, his voice trailing off.

"He's not my type," you replied, shrugging your shoulders dismissively. "Anyway, we're just friends," you added, your voice cracking slightly.

"Well, that's good," Cillian responded, a hint of relief washing over his face. "Because I think he seems a little too arrogant for you," he then teased, causing you to furrow your brow.

"Is that so, huh?" you replied coyly, glancing at Cillian with a sheepish grin. "Well, you might be right there," you admitted, feeling a tingle of excitement course through your veins. "He is a little arrogant and I still feel somewhat drawn towards a certain kind of actor, so...," you said, your voice dropping to a hushed whisper. 

Cillian's breath hitched and the air between you crackled with electricity, and you could hear the faint thrumming of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. The tension between you was palpable, and you knew that you were playing with fire.

"A certain kind of actor?" Cillian repeated, his gaze fixated on you.

"Yeah, but unfortunately he is unavailable," you added, your voice trailing off as Cillian's ice-blue eyes bore into you, a storm of emotions brewing in the depths of his pupils.

"I really miss you, you know?" Cillian whispered quietly, his voice trembling slightly. "I just cannot get you out of my fucking head," he admitted, reaching out to touch your hand, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin lightly.

"I know," you murmured softly, leaning closer to his ear, your breath hot against his neck. "And, I wish I could say that I hate you for ending things the way you did, but I get it. I get why you did it," you confessed, your voice thick with emotion as Cillian closed his eyes, savoring the sweet sound of your voice as it resonated in his eardrums.

"Let's take a walk," you then suggested, pulling him toward the campus gardens. "I need some space to clear my head," you confessed, eager to escape the crowd and the looming threat of discovery.

"Okay," Cillian agreed hesitantly, following you through the grand entrance of another campus building, located on the other side of the greens and the parking lot. 

"Where are we going though?" Cillian asked you cautiously, his eyes darting left and right, scanning the area warily.

"Just somewhere more private," you whispered back, the scent of your perfume wafting tantalizingly under his nose. He could feel an insistent throb beginning to stir deep within his loins, straining against the confines of his trousers.

"Alright," Cillian agreed, reluctantly releasing your hand. "But remember, we can't be seen together," he reminded you sternly, his tone laced with suppressed urgency.

"Don't worry, I got this," you reassured him confidently, slipping your hand into his and intertwining your fingers with his before pulling him into the garden nursery, a small but secluded greenhouse not far from the function hall. 

"Here," you said, stepping inside, the dimmer light of the greenhouse engulfing you both in a warm cocoon of shadows.

The greenhouse was illuminated by soft glowing lamps hanging overhead, casting eerie silhouettes on the glass panes in front of you. The smell of damp earth and decaying vegetation permeated the air, a sharp contrast to the elegant surroundings you had just left behind.

"Can you imagine what would happen if someone saw us here?" Cillian muttered nervously, his voice quivering slightly.

"No one comes in here at this hour," you responded, taking a step closer to him, pressing your body up against his. "Trust me," you added seductively, tilting your head slightly to lock eyes with him.

"Are you sure?" Cillian whispered in your ear, his warm breath fanning out against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

"Yeah," you murmured, leaning in closer, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. "Let's just enjoy this moment," you breathed onto his shoulder, gripping his hand tightly.

"For tonight, yeah," Cillian agreed, pulling you closer, his fingers tracing lines along your bare arm before, finally, he pressed his lips on to yours. 

This time, the kiss was different - deeper, wilder, more desperate. It was almost primal as you both fell back against the nearest bench, your bodies colliding with the hard wood surface with a dull thud. Cillian pulled away from you for a second, panting heavily before gazing at you through half-lidded eyes.

"Fuck, I missed this," he gasped, his voice hoarse and strained as he traced your jawline with his fingertips delicately.

You couldn't resist the temptation any longer and kissed him back, passionately, your tongue exploring his mouth eagerly.

"Y/N," Cillian moaned, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly, pulling you even closer until you could feel his erect cock against your thigh.

You reached down, cupping his erection through his pants, and groaning in response.

"I missed this too," you panted, stroking him roughly through his trousers while he quickly unbuckled his belt. 

"Let's get these off," he whispered hoarsely, his breathing labored as he tugged your dress up past your hips, exposing your underwear.

"Hmm, but we better be quick," you told him before reaching beneath your dress and sliding off your panties and letting them fall on to the dirt covered floor.

"Agreed," Cillian grunted as you then lowered his zipper completely and slid his jeans down to his knees.

His cock sprang free, and you immediately climbed on top of where he was sitting. You then reached down in between you to stroke the tip of his cock and guide it right to your wet pussy. He grabbed your hips and helped you lower yourself onto him while he stayed seated. Your inner muscles instantly clamped down on his hardness, and he groaned loudly as his cock disappeared inside you.

"Fuck, Y/N," he gasped, watching you carefully. "You're so tight," he complimented you, squeezing your asscheeks gently.

"Oh god," you whimpered, grinding your hips against him, enjoying the sensation of being fully impaled on his cock.

"This feels fucking amazing," you admitted, looking directly into his eyes, feeling incredibly vulnerable and exposed.

"So fucking good," you repeated, rocking your hips against him harder.

"Shh, not so loud," Cillian hissed, glancing around nervously to double-check that no one had entered the greenhouse.

"I can't help it," you pleaded, burying your face in his sweat-soaked neck while trying to muffle your cries.

Cillian groaned loudly, his grip tightening around your waist as he thrust upwards into you.

"Fuck," he hissed, his fingers digging into your flesh painfully.

The rhythmic slap of your bodies smashing together sounded harsh in the otherwise silent greenhouse.

"Tell me how good my pussy feels, Cillian!" you whimpered, grinding your hips against him while his cock twitched inside you.

"Fucking perfect," he growled, his hands now resting on your ass, squeezing it tightly. His cock slid in and out of you with practiced precision, his strokes steady and deliberate. Each thrust sent a shockwave of pleasure through your entire body, and you couldn't help but cry out in ecstasy.

"Oh god, yes," you moaned, clutching handfuls of his shirt as, suddenly, you couldn't hold it any longer. 

Your orgasm came crashing down on you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing uncontrollably against his own.

"Fuck, fuck," you screamed, clawing at his skin desperately as you bucked your hips wildly, cumming all over his cock.

"That's it," Cillian growled, his voice strained and raspy.

"You're so fucking tight," he groaned, slamming his cock into you mercilessly, his balls slapping against your ass repeatedly.

"Jesus, I love it," he added, his grip tightening around your waist.

"I love it too," you moaned, running your fingers through his hair lovingly. The intensity of your lust and desire for each other seemed impossible to contain, yet you both reveled in the forbidden nature of your encounter.

"I've missed you so much," you whispered, your voice hoarse and ragged.

"I've missed you too," he responded, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of his emotions.

"I want you to cum inside me Cillian. Please," you begged as you rocked your hips back and forth, meeting every thrust with equal force. "Please fill me up with your cum," you whined, arching your back and throwing your head back, your hair falling down like a curtain of silk.

In response, Cillian buried his face in your neck, sucking and kissing the tender spot behind your ear. It drove you crazy, and you began to grind against him harder, feeling his length throbbing inside you as, eventually, he reached his climax too. 

You could feel his cock pulsing, spurting jet after jet of hot sticky cum into you, filling you up completely.

"Fuck, that was amazing," you whispered breathlessly, collapsing onto top of him, your sweat-slicked skin sticking to his.

"Definitely," Cillian agreed, holding you close, your faces mere inches apart. You could sense the beating of his heart under your cheek, the warmth of his breath on your temple. In that moment, everything felt right. You felt whole until, eventually, you had to break it up and head back to the function, which is where Danielle was already looking for her husband.

"Where have you been?" she asked him as you both returned separately, through different entrances. 

"I just needed some air after the speech," Cillian told her casually as he reached for a drink while Danielle gracefully pulled a leaf from his hair.

"Some air?" Danielle arched an eyebrow skeptically as she fixed Cillian with a scrutinizing gaze. "Okay," she added, brushing the stray strands of hair off his forehead, which is when she noticed a stain on the collar of his otherwise pristine white shirt. 

She squinted suspiciously, her lips curling into a thin line as she spotted what appeared to be some make up. Red lipstick mixed with a stain of foundation. 

To be continued...

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[yandere-writer-momo]

Heart Shaped Wound:

Hanayama’s Ending

Heart Shaped Wound

Author’s note: took me awhile to write this! I’m working on the separate smut ending so stay tuned!

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       (Your name) placed her hands over her eyes and sighed in frustration. She couldn’t do this… she couldn’t possibly choose. It was impossible. She had dug herself into an inescapable hole.

     (Your name) sat up and glanced at the dress that laid across her dining room table. She told Hanayama she’d see him tomorrow… she promised him. 

       (Your name) rose up and went over to the table to touch the fabric of the dress once more. She knew Hanayama had feelings for her… she would have to be blind not to see that but… she wasn’t sure he’d take rejection well…

       She sighed. This would be tomorrow’s problem, for now she’s sleep on it. It was too much stress to think anymore about it.

     If only she hadn’t been so naive…

.

.

.

         (Your name) carefully set the last bit of her hair in place before her scheduled time with Hanayama. Her unexplainable nerves made her stomach hurt. She didn’t have a clue on why she felt so nervous. She’s went out with him many times before… and yet this time it felt different.

       (Your name) rose up from her vanity and admired her reflection. This dress was much classier than the others and it hugged her figure nicely… Hanayama had exquisite tastes as always.

      Knock. Knock. (Your name) heard some strong knocks at the door. That must be Hanayama… he was a little early.

       (Your name) made her way over to the door and opened it to reveal Hanayama in a black suit with a red silk dress shirt under. He looked even more handsome in red.

     Hanayama caught her admirable gaze and smirked.

      “Do you like what you see?” He softly asked, he scooped her hand in his to give it a soft kiss. “I try to coordinate our outfits.”

        “You look handsome.” (Your name) gave him a smile, her cheeks a little red from his action. Hanayama was never anything short of a gentleman to her. He was suave. 

       “And you’re beautiful as always.” Hanayama pressed one last kiss to the back of her hand, the feeling he left behind lingered on her skin. His dark eyes stared deeply into her soul with an all consuming storm of lust. She was his… tonight and forever she’d finally be his. “Shall we?”

       (Your name) allowed Hanayama to scoop her up bridal style in his arms so she didn’t get sand on her feet. He always loved to carry her like a princess, so she’d understand how much she meant to him.

       Hanayama basked in the stares of his men while he made his way to the limousine. He enjoyed their looks of jealousy and admiration. That’s right. This beautiful woman in his arms was his future wife and today… today it would be perfect.

      Just like it should have been the first time.

.

.

.

      Hanayama’s chefs had prepared a five course meal with ingredients she had never heard of and with a unique plating that told her how much Hanayama most likely spent on this date (he again). Hanayama had no problem flaunting his wealth to her.

      Each meal was more delicious than the last. The flavors melted on her tongue with each bite. Hanayama was thoughtful to consider her taste.

    Once their meals were over and done with, Hanayama gave her a smile.

      “I’ve never introduced anyone to one of the most important women in my life…” Hanayama softly whispered, his obsidian eyes never left her smaller form. “This means a lot to me.”

       Hanayama rose up from the table and held out his hand for her to take. (Your name) hesitantly accepted his hand and Hanayama hoisted her up. She could tell he was nervous.

      (Your name) smiled at Hanayama to try to ease his nerves. Her thumb glided over the back of his hand in a soothing manner.

       “I’m happy you’re introducing me to her then. She must mean a lot to you.” (Your name) failed to notice the look in Hanayama’s eyes when she softly spoke. He was happy to introduce her… he always wanted to introduce his future wife to the person who raised him with love.

       Hanayama lead her through the compound and out into his giant rose garden. (Your name) was amazed at all the beautiful variety of red rose bushes. She knew Hanayama preferred to gift her the flower to romance but she had no idea he had a giant garden of the flower themselves. He must really enjoy them…

       It was when he stood before a tombstone that made her realize he was going to introduce her to his mother… oh no.

       “(Your name), this is my mother.” Hanayama smiled softly at her, his hand guided her to stand before the well kept grave. “Mom, this is (your name).”

      Hanayama’s grip tightened around her hand, his breath a bit ragged. “I talk about you a lot with my mom… I’ve always wanted to introduce you.”

       Hanayama turned his head to look at (your name). He took his free hand to remove his glasses so she could see his eyes that were full of love and possessiveness… she felt like a deer caught in the headlights. Oh no…

        “…really?” (Your name) softly muttered out. It was all she could muster under his predatory gaze. 

      “My mother deserves to know about my future wife.” Hanayama smiled softly at her, he tucked his glasses into his suit pocket. 

    “I never thought I’d find someone strong enough to stand by my side… someone to share my life with… and then I met you.” Hanayama muttered softly, his voice trembled a bit with emotion. “We met in a tournament of all places and you defeated me in a fight… I knew I had to have you then. I wanted to give the perfect night to the perfect woman… the woman I love.”

      Hanayama then got onto one knee which made (your name)’s blood run cold. Hanayama pulled out a small black box and opened it to reveal a beautiful marquis cut ring. It was a beautiful ring… a beautiful cage.

       “Be my wife, (your name).” It was not a question, it was a statement that she didn’t dare want to refuse.

        The garden was filled with his men, she knew she wouldn’t be able to fight her way out of this one or flee. She’d be stupid to try… she should have never came here. Hanayama had set the perfect trap for her.

       Tears fell down her face, her hands covered her mouth to stop a sob. She had no idea that to Hanayama and his men, it looked like she was crying tears of joy. It made Hanayama’s heart set ablaze. Hanayama put the ring into one of his fists before he stood up at his full height.

        Hanayama wrapped his arms around her and moved her hands off to the side to press a powerful kiss to her lips. His heart hammered in his chest and his grip tightened around her. He knew she’d be happy… he had wanted to propose for so long.

        (Your name)’s eyes widened in shock from the sudden kiss while his men applauded the ‘happy’ couple. They were happy that their boss was finally going to get his beloved wife.

         Hanayama took advantage of her shock and slid the ring onto her finger. A slight blush on his cheeks.

         “You’re finally all mine…” (your name)’s throat felt dry, everything had happened so fast-

          Hanayama barbarically swung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The man gave her bottom a firm spank as a grin engulfed his face.

        “Now it’s time for a treat of my own, wouldn’t you say? We can have the wedding in a few days once you’ve recovered.”

         “R-recovered?” (Your name) quickly repeated. He couldn’t possible mean?

      Hanayama gave her hip a squeeze, a satisfied hum escaped his lips. “Mhmm. I’m going to make you my woman.”

        (Your name) tried to pull away but Hanayama had a death grip on her as he carried her back into the compound. His eyes black with lust.

         Today he was going to make (your name) his woman… inside and out.

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Author’s Note: thanks for reading! I’m trying my best to finish every ending! 🥰

[kneelingshadowsalome]

i'm sorry if this is rather redundant but what does task for 141 think of the engel herself? we know soap told her to stay away from könig before almost getting shanked by him but what do they all think of this abolutely batshit insane girl? also that lil tidbit of ghost clearing his throat after seeing engel wear her pretty dresses??? 👀

Ok so the thing is other operators fear König and have come to the conclusion that this man is insane. Some even think König shouldn’t be allowed to work in a field like this – actually, he shouldn’t be walking freely at all! They fear his impulsiveness and bloodlust and dread the day this guy fucks up a mission in his battle frenzy.

So if they fear König and consider him a lunatic… they would surely view a girl who wants to be with him mentally unstable as well 🫠

Their first reaction might be pity and concern: how did this guy pull such a sweet and kind girl in the first place? Is she alright, should someone do something? Should someone... save her...? (No one would have the courage I'm afraid)

But when they see how König is around her (flaunting his knives and acting like a proud gorilla full of testosterone) and see how the "sweet kind girl" is around König (smiling, at ease and flirty), they are slightly horrified. When they see she’s not a victim but actively pursues König’s company and admires him, they're kinda like, "Oookay then..." It appears this damsel doesn’t need saving because clearly, she isn’t in distress!

Also. König is so possessive and territorial he wants to leave no doubts as to who this woman belongs to. He holds her hand all the time when they’re together, going on those walks for example, and if somebody sees them he will automatically tighten his grip and pull her closer. Anytime she visits him König makes sure everyone hears them. People try to avoid paying attention to it but cannot help but hear how reader gets loved very profoundly in this gunman’s room. “You look tired,” and “Yeah I couldn't get any sleep last night I wonder how come” would become a dry joke around the barracks soon.

And yeah, reader walking around in those pretty dresses certainly attracts attention! She's practically glowing. It only adds to everyone's bitterness, however. Especially the male operators are getting more and more annoyed. Every man walks around blue-balled and tired except König, and it makes them despise him even more. What a mad, lucky fucker... And what's even more fucked up is that even though he’s getting some nearly every day, this dude shows little to no signs of calming down.

[cilil]

Gentle June

AN: I'm almost done with June, @tolkienpinupcalendar x) this one's a little gift for @sauron-kraut. Enjoy!🖤

❀ Prompt: Lingerie & body worship | Mairon x Khamûl ❀ Synopsis: Khamûl loves serving his Maiarin master. ❀ Warnings: Sensual, smutty, master/pet, pet play ❀ Short oneshot (~600 words)

"Have you made yourself pretty for me, my pet?" 

A long-fingered hand idly reaches out, golden rings gleaming in the evening sun. 

Khamûl nods, a little too fast, a little too eager. He's already slipping out of his silken robe to show the Maia just how pretty he can be, how he wants to be pretty for him. 

Mairon's cat-like eyes follow his every move, curious, appreciative, greedy. The perfect porcelain his face appears to be made of shifts; the hunger is visible by the time silk drops to the floor and reveals soft skin and living flesh underneath. His smile reveals fang-like canines. Khamûl isn't sure if he's seen them before. 

Nevertheless, he shows himself, happily puts himself on display. Perhaps it's hubris to think he could be appealing to a Maia. Perhaps it's hubris to think he could survive it for long if he did in fact succeed. But he has Mairon's attention and flaunts his body. 

Only lace adorns him now: A frilly strip of fabric around his waist — reminiscent of a tiny skirt, yet so short that it barely conceals anything — and another small piece covering his private parts, held in place by twin strings that wrap around his thighs and backside. Khamûl has forgone even his jewellery, believing it to be an affront to his lord's masterful craftsmanship. 

Mairon lifts his hand and motions for him to join him on the bed. 

Without hesitation, Khamûl follows. He climbs onto it and then crawls, as is befitting for his role as a divine being's mortal pet. Enraptured, he watches those long, deadly fingers reach out and grasp his chin. 

"Undress me, then serve me." 

"Yes, master." 

Mairon lets go and Khamûl demurely lowers his head. It's an honour to be allowed to serve him. He shan't disappoint. 

Hands trembling with the sheer joy of his task, he loosens the sash around the Maia's waist, parts heavy robes, uncovers gleaming, gold-tinted skin, fair and ethereal like his divine kin, beautiful and terrible like the scorching sun. He bows his head to kiss his master, worshipping every inch of skin he can reach. Khamûl feels Mairon's fingers snaking through his locks, sharp nails scraping against his scalp, and moans in delight. 

The surge of pride that overcomes him when he's met with an already hardening cock is dizzying, but he allows himself no time to dawdle. Eager and obedient, Khamûl takes it into his mouth, requiring no guidance from the hand still resting on his head, and begins sucking the Maia off. 

Mairon lets him enjoy himself for a while, then asks, "I trust you prepared yourself in advance?" 

Khamûl nods vigorously, his head bobbing up and down in the process. He's become increasingly good at this, but now a different service will be required of him. 

With the ease of picking up a doll, Mairon pulls him upward by his neck, smiles and lazily pats his thigh. "Sit." 

The command is clear, and Khamûl doesn't hesitate. He moves to straddle the Maia's hips, pulls the strings between his legs aside and guides his hot, hard length inside him, slowly sitting down; he has been generous with his preparation, stretching and oiling himself diligently, and yet the process is never quite painless. 

Khamûl wouldn't have it any other way, though. Glory comes at a price, as Mairon has always told him. 

His back arches when he finally takes his master all the way, his breath quickens, his nails dig into impervious immortal skin. 

"Very good, pet," Mairon coos and caresses his thighs. "Now move." 

And this, too, Khamûl does. He trembles and gasps and moans, yet swears to himself that he won't stop until he either has served the Maia to completion or until his mortal body gives out. 

Thanks for reading! ♡

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