#and then he came out but there was a black veil over his head and he was like fighting w this other masked guy

[zemnarihah]

i didn't get many pics or videos but i rlly need u all to know that this is what he looked like for the majority of the show

[madamechrissy]

Ive had this idea that you’re the bride the Gojo clan chose for satoru (arranged marriage) and you both don’t know who you’re marrying and won’t know until your getting married right? So on your “last night of freedom” your friends throw a bachelorette party for you and take you out for dancing and drinks. Something you didn’t know is your future husband was having his bachelor party at the same place. Long story short you both meet (not knowing who each other are and not catching the coincidence) and spend your last night of freedom with each other (body shots, dancing, a little heavy making out). Come the next day you stare at him through your veil at the end of the aisle and can’t help but smile knowing the man who showed you what you thought was the last best night of your life was your future husband all along.

Hello love, I just adore this idea, I hope you enjoy what I came up with here!

Word Count- 2.4k - Pairing- Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader- explicit- making out, playing in public, oral sex (both receiving)

ఇ An Arranged Marriage with Gojo ఇ

The club pulsed with energy, a whirlwind of lights and pulsing beats that pound through your body, you're already warm and flushed from the writhing bodies on the dance floor and your first tequila shot. Your best friends pulled you back toward the bar, ordering rounds of colorful cocktails that sparkle in your glasses. Your best friend Shoko is trying to cheer you up, pinching your backside and making the funniest 'whooo noise'. you giggle.

"Look at this ass in this! Bend over, bride to be." You bend over and Shoko and she smacks your butt, as does your other good friend Utahime and then all your friends there. You're giggling, as the bartender winks at you.

"If you weren't the bride to be I think I'd ask for your number." He says to you, and you flush, luckily no one can see in the neon lights of the dance floor.

"See, you're hot, bitch." Utahime says, putting a shot glass right in your cleavage and grinning. Utahime's pretty, silky black locks are high in a ponytail, whereas Shoko's brunette locks were shorter, just a bit over one eye as she puts a lime in your mouth.

"Your husband is a lucky man." The bartender says now, and you sigh, not wanting to reveal the truth, that he'd probably resent you, that you all have never even met. Not once. You're from an entire other village, promised to marry the head of the Gojo clan, and you know nothing about him at all.

"He's gonna love you baby." Shoko says, puffing on a cigarette and smiling. You take a shaky breath, running your hands down your slinky silver dress, as Utahime takes a shot right from your tits. You notice then as you look to your right that there are three handsome men, looking right at you.

One has long dark hair tied back half up and in a dark green Kimono, the other sandy hair, looking sharp in a killer suit, but the third stands out, they're all tall and gorgeous, but something about him. Is it the shocking white hair or the brilliant blue eyes, that trail down your body as he smirks just a bit with pouty lips.

'look at her over there, fuck she's hot. Why do I have to get married tomorrow? What if she's a bitch, what if she's a-'

'Satoru, you have no choice. You know that. Enjoy your last night of freedom, go talk to her.' Suguru Geto says, he's set to be Gojo's best man, and he knows his friend is losing it at the thought of marrying someone arranged. He doesn't blame him one bit, the girl Gojo is looking at - You - is very beautiful, that little outfit hugging your body just right, a little tiara on your head.

'looks like she's also getting married. huh.' Nanami says then, and Satoru looks at your head, seeing the tiara and tiny veil, and then your glittering outfit and heels make sense. 'I don't know, should you really talk to her?'

Satoru sighs then, downing the contents of his sweet, fruity hurricane he ordered. 'I mean I have one night left. I won't take things too far, but maybe a kiss or... maybe lick her-'

'Gojo!' Nanami chides, but Suguru chuckles, his dark eyes glinting.

'Nah, kiss both sets of lips Satoru.' Satoru chuckles then, as he things of what is between those pretty thighs, and he grins big, his white teeth glinting, shooting his friends the peace sign.

'I'm out to have my last meal guys!'

"Fuck, is he coming over here!?" You whisper then, as this tall gorgeous man with some expensive black Gucci dress shirt stands and looks right at you. You nervously down another shot, eyes wide at your friends.

"He thinks you're hot! Fuck it babe, enjoy yourself, we have no clue how this... Gojo guy is going to be." Utahime says softly, and you shake your head.

"I can't just fuck someone night before my wedding!"

"So don't fuck, just... maybe, y'know." Shoko winks, putting her cigarette out, and you feel your pulse race as he gets closer.

"Y'know what? You all know I am too sheltered to have done much."

"That's even better, gotta do something before, yeah?" Utahime says, nudging you, and you open your mouth, but suddenly he's right next to you, towering over you and everyone in the damn club, even his tall ass friends were just a hair shorter.

He smiles down at you, then to your friends, but his focus shoots right back on your face, as he toys with the tiara a bit. "bride to be, huh?"

"Um... y-yeah." Fuck could you be anymore awkward?

"How about I buy you a drink, pretty?" You flush under his casual praise, as someone with such perfect features compliments you, and he was perfect, his straight nose, his pouty pink lips, jaw structure better than a GQ model. And fuck he smells good.

"She'd love to!" Utahime answers for you, and you panic, looking up at him, noticing his gaze had dropped to your breasts, pronounced in that pretty dress. You feel your nipples perk up, and hope he doesn't notice.

"Oooh, Mei is here! We will let you two mingle, we're gonna meet her out front and then get more drinks." Shoko says, and they leave you, these bitches leave you with this... tall ass, fine ass man. You gulp nervously as he has a seat next to you, scooching you a bar stool up.

"Last night of freedom huh?" He asks softly, and you nod, sighing and sitting where he'd just patted, as he holds up two ridiculously long fingers, fingers that make you think the lewdest things, how they'd feel inside you.

Fuck.

He orders you both several shots in different colors, like a pretty rainbow and you smile then, as he's handing you the red one first. "Bottoms up, pretty."

You down the shot, surprisingly tart, coughing just a bit, and he's chuckling at you. "hey now! Don't make fun!"

"Sorry you're just cute. Here, try this one Princess."

"Princess, aha no... just a cheap tiara here." You say with a little giggle, and he adjusts it carefully, you watch his Adam's Apple bob. He is too close, you see his collarbone, his strong neck muscles, wondering at his body.

"There, much better, all Princess like."

"You're sweet." You say, and he leans close, tilting your chin up, and you taste his sweet breath, far too close to lips that are tingling.

"Bet you taste sweet." He whispers, and you're a mess, you don't know this man you're gonna marry, but you still feel awful. Should you do this!?

"I um... so, I don't know who I'm marrying." You whisper, and he frowns a bit then, tilting his head.

"Arranged shit? Archaic." You sigh, nodding.

"It's bullshit. I don't have time to... date you, or get to know you, or anything."

"You saying you just want my body!?" He gasps, holding his hand to his chest, making you giggle again.

"Just to have fun."

"Then let's have fun." You two down one more shot each, and now he has you on that dance floor, as your hips are undulating to the beat of the flashing lights, and his big hands overtake your hips. He bends down then, turning you and lifting you like it's nothing, you giggle as your feet dangle, and you cling to him around his neck.

"You're a good dancer... fuck what's your name!"

"It's... Geto. Suguru Geto." He says (he doesn't know why he lies but it feels right- he doesn't want rumors about himself to spread)

"Oh, and I'm... Ieri Shoko." You say (You don't know why you like, but it feels right- you don't want rumors about you to spread)

"Shoko huh?"

"Suguru huh?"

Before you know it, you're making out right on that dance floor, and his hand is sliding up the small of your back, as Shoko and Utahime have begun talking to Geto and Nanami, and the four of them have put it together, watching you both with a grin. You two will definitely be happy, they all muse, as they watch their clueless, horny friends all over each other.

"Mmm, Suguru... can I call you that?" You whisper, in between his kisses, your tongues wrapping around each other hungrily, your body arching eagerly for more. He chuckles then, shaking his head.

"Call me baby boy, sounds cute." You giggle then, shaking your head up at him, then whining as his hand slips down your tummy, and he finds you hot and eager between your thighs. "Fuck you're hot, those noises... wanna kiss you all over."

"I'm so not calling you baby boy." You breathe out, then gasp when he's rubbing two long fingers over already damp lacy panties. He moans softly, eyes locking with yours.

"I'll call you Princess, you call me daddy."

"I am not!"

"Wanna bet?"

"Daddy!" You cry out weakly, as Satoru Gojo is on his knees, and you're up on this fancy sink at the club, he's flicking his tongue on your clit, two long fingers pumping into your dripping wet pussy, as you cling to his snowy white hair. His blue eyes lock, smirking against your hot little cunt now, his other hand yanking down your top, revealing a perky nipple for him to pinch.

"Already, you didn't cum yet, no... I need to find where you're... aha, there it is." He presses up then, as you feel your tummy clench, as this stranger makes you feel better than anything you've done. Your head whacks the mirror with a thud as he presses in on that spongy little spot, and you hear how wet you are in the bathroom echoing, along with the faded bass music.

"Fuck, fuck... m'close, shit!" You scream out, before trying to cover your mouth, remembering where you all are. He grins, brushing his lips on your puffy lips as he presses that spot over and over, making your vision blacken as the pressure builds.

"That's it, where you're weak... go ahead, Princess, let go, I've got you." He says, and fuck you trust this random stranger, the one who's watching you, flicking the tip of his tongue on your clit as he works you, and you're shattering, screaming into your palm, thighs trembling at how good you feel.

"Oh my god... daddy!" You whisper again, earning his grin before he nips at your clit with his teeth, then he kisses your thighs, finally letting you go, putting his fingers between your lips. "Mmm!"

"You're so fucking yummy. Fuck I wish I could taste you again." He huffs, pouting now, as your hand drops and brushes his hair back gently.

"Let me return the favor?" He groans, nodding, as you sink to your knees then.

"Oh fuck, I'm dreaming... pretty Princess sucking me off with her tiara?" He whispers, as he unzips his black jeans, and pushes down his boxers, revealing the most pretty cock you've seen. You still tremble as you start to suck him, as your cheeks hollow, your tongue lapping at his tip, eliciting a moan. "Oh- f-fuck... there, good girl, good girl."

The strangers praise just stirs you, as you stroke him with your fist gently, as you're sucking him down deeper, cheeks hollowing as you do, as you take him further, his big hands cupping your face gently, as he hits the back of your throat. You're moaning around him, as his brilliant blue eyes watch you, hungry, before he lets out a little whimper, and you feel him twitch in your mouth.

"You're too good at it... m'gonna... fuck where..."

"Cum in my mouth." You say then, and he curses, fucking your throat then, still gentle but more firm, as he presses the back of your head down, tip hitting your uvula, you breathe through your nose.

"Pretty girl... gonna cum... ready?" You nod then, whining, and he's whimpering again, this six foot plus gorgeous man, as he cums, his white brows drawn together, whispering over and over how good you are, as you swallow him down, all his cum dripping down your throat. "Fuck, fuck... open up pretty."

You open your mouth wide, showing you've swallowed him all, and he picks you up then, slamming his lips on yours, as you both taste each other, you're gripping his shirt and feeling his muscles, he's gripping your ass and feeling your curves. You tear into each other, then the door swings wide open, and you all seperate, giggling as you both run out past the onlooker.

You're both kissing over and over, and he frowns then, suddenly so serious, as it hits you both, that the most amazing encounter you've had was just that- one time. That you had to marry tomorrow, and who would he be, what would your connection be like.

"Thank you, for the best night of my life." You say softly, feeling emotions choke up, and his brilliant eyes go glassy.

"Thank you for the best night of my life." He responds, as now your friends are pulling you both in different directions, and soon you're looking out the window, thinking of all of the things coming your way, and a smile on your lips as you think you'll remember this white haired man, forever.

*****

The next morning, you're wearing your veil, as you nervously walk down the aisle, in this huge and gorgeous manor, Gojo manor. You nervously turn then, and you stop in your tracks as you see him, that man... not Suguru Geto, he lied just like you had, you notice with a small smile.

He looks a little lost at first, until he sees you, sees your body, his blue eyes shooting across the aisle, and you grin through your veil, as he smiles, eyes shooting across your body, recognizing it. Suguru shakes his shoulder with a grin, as Nanami smirks. You see Shoko and Utahime grinning on the other side in their pretty dresses as you step up, and Gojo takes your tiny hand in his big one, pressing a kiss like some Disney Prince.

"Well, you're not Shoko." He whispers, eyeing your friend. "She is, little liar."

"And you're not Geto, are you now?" He grins, shaking his head, gently taking off your veil, and exhaling, eyes drinking you in. "You look beautiful." He whispers, and you blink back emotions.

"And you look so handsome, Gojo." He smirks, so charming in his white suit, as you're in your white gown.

"Call me Satoru... or..." He leans close, whispering in your ear. "You can call me Daddy later."

Hope you enjoyed, anon ty for the request I had funnn <3

[senseandaccountability]

the narrative that could have been

Having mulled over the game for a couple of days I have realised that the main problem for me is that Veilguard is good based on the premises they ultimately choose, but not based on the set up and promise of what was there before. I know this isn’t a unique take by any means and yes it’s all about the Evanuris and the Veil and Solas. 

Replaying really emphasises how incredibly little the game convinces me of its original main quest - to prevent Solas from doing his ritual. This is a problem as a long-term player because for three games we’ve had build up for a great crescendo tackling the overarching themes of the (restrictions and oppression of) magic, of tears in the Veil, of religious tyranny and oppression based on myths about the Black City and the temptations of flawed humans, we’ve seen and deconstructed the elves quite a bit, we got started on the dwarves and in DAI your Inquisitor can openly ask Solas if it wouldn’t be better if the Veil came down because then spirits wouldn’t be separated from the living and risk becoming demons. Cole, whose function is to reflect the plot, talks endlessly about the old songs wanting to be sung again, about how it hurts to be cut off from part of yourself, how the templars feel it, how the mages feel it, how the elves and the dwarves feel it. The Veil as a prerequisite for life has been deconstructed, the Fade demystified, the gods have mostly fallen. The Veil as an actual wound inflicted on this earth has been presented as a theory and not been convincingly rejected by the narrative. 

The game actually gives no explanation whatsoever as to why the Veil coming down would be worse than what Rook causes in the beginning and what the escaped gods then do to the entire Thedas. The entire south falls to the Blight because Elgar’nan and Ghilan'nain are let loose. The Wardens are more or less wiped out. There’s enormous political turmoil. The game gives us Solas saying “thousands” would die when he brought the Veil down, but that he had a host of spirits there to help. (Yes, I know, his sole function in this game is to Trick and Deceive so who is to say if he’s lying, HUH, but even so, THE ENTIRE SOUTH FALLS TO THE BLIGHT IN ROOK’S VERSION OF THINGS.)

The game puts emphasis on Solas's questionable methods and past horrors but it doesn't ever explain why his goals are despicable here and now. It doesn't convince us that tearing down the Veil with lots of safety measures in place and after considerations is a bad result, all things considered - save for Varric’s initial yelling about demons. (We even learned in DAI that the Veil itself creates demons because it restricts the passage of spirits, come on.) Because three games have suggested it's not, not ultimately. Trespasser especially nuances this, just as it nuances Solas’s view of this current world state. Right after his long nap he would have nuked it all, I’m sure, but the whole point of character arcs is that things happen in them and what happened to him is that he was shown layers and angles he had not considered and adjusted his mindset and ultimately his plan accordingly. That is where DAV should have picked it up. That's where the build up was headed. But, now he must serve the narrative solely as the God of Treachery and Lies which means that previous build up is washed away for the most part. (In no way do I think he is OOC in DAV, I just want to point that out so nobody thinks I’m a sappy fangirl or whatever. I think he is perfectly in tune with his inner Dread Wolf, but that is also all he gets to be, because of the narrative, and I’m always much more interested in when roles and personas clash.) Again. The main problem is that the narrative cannot explain why bringing down the Veil would be the worse option than the shit we see unfold on screen. Instead it gets a bit lost in the past.  And I have Issues with that, as well.  Like, the dumbing down of the war against the Evanuris. The war that started because the leaders of the rebellion - who previously had to carry out terrible orders so the Evanuris, the upper crust of the Elvhenan, could play gods - decided that the Evanuris was a threat to them all. And the game gives us what, a depiction of how the rebellion ended up crossing lines, too? No shit.

Like, I am fully on board with the individual theme of regret on Solas’s part and he ought to be wrecked with guilt but I wish the game could be less all over the place with what sort of things he ought to be wrecked with guilt over. Saying fuck you to the Evanuris is the best and brightest of his character, I suppose I just don't want it dragged down to the same level as him breaking the Titans. I suppose I would have wished for a narrative that also worked on a systemic level when depicting things like, you know, war and revolutions and subjugation. But we don't have that, because DAV is only about personal choices. The Lighthouse crew flippantly writing the hierarchical and violent power struggle off as being about love and betrayal is on my shitlist forever. 

No, Taash et al, it was not about pussy, it was about feeling compelled by superiors to commit heinous war crimes and being lied to about the actual purposes of your damn war in the first place. The elves shouting at Elgar’nan and Mythal in this painting aren’t driven by love and sex they have been lied to by their ruling class. It was never about freedom or ending the wars, it was always about Elgar’nan jerking off to ultimate godhood. The writing even suggests betrayal here is to be understood as Netflix drama betrayal, maybe some juicy porny plot but it’s ABOUT THE BETRAYAL OF THE ELVES BY THEIR OWN KIN.  ((ETA: I would have wanted my Dalish mage to be allowed to be furious, NOT WITH SOLAS, but with the fucking Evanuris for betraying her people and being so fucking vile that the only option that remained was to create a world where she's a second-class citizen. I would have wanted the game to recognize that not all causes are equal and that Elgar'nan's cause for godhood was objectively more vile than Solas's cause for freedom because as it stands now, there are some really iffy vibes of "both sides are equally bad" and other things authorities tend to say when comparing destructive regimes with uprisings.)) I’m sorry, this shit hits me on a personal and political rage level. 

I also can’t help but mourn a game where the Trickster God fulfilled his trope’s duty and shook the stagnation apart with his actions - for good or ill, the way trickster gods are wont to do - and where Rook was tricked into helping and then, a more complex game about its consequences could have unfolded. The Evanuris could still have been the bad guys, if they wanted big villains frothing at the mouth. There could still have been numerous unplanned consequences, like all of Solas's plans have. Maybe other ancients awake as well. Maybe ancient evils who aren’t elves, who knows. Point is - the Veil should have come down, at least in some form, at least in some outcome. THAT is what they've been building up to. In this game that never was, Rook could be an actual interesting character where we could mold her as either accepting of this trickster role (which fits perfectly for a blank slate with no ties) or set to overturn it and enforce status quo, with some vanilla option in the middle. Maybe the Veil doesn’t come down until the very end of the game, ancient magic takes time after all, maybe a lot has happened by then. But ultimately, Rook’s choice in the end should not have been about siding against Solas because he’s lying to you or because he did horrible things in the past or siding with him because you want him redeemed. The narrative should have provided those options either way. The narrative should have been brave enough to suggest that hey, maybe Solas isn't wrong at all - his methods maybe, but his goal, no. If they truly wanted mirrors between Rook and Solas, Rook should have tackled the issue of actively bringing down the Veil herself, not because it's a roses and sunshine-outcome but because it might very well be the lesser of two evils. Gods, that would have been interesting. It should have been a choice about what sort of world Rook and the Veilguard wants to see in the future. It should have been about the people, the world, not how angry Rook is that an ancient elf has tricked her. 

That would have been the game I wanted to play.  This story doesn't really give anything new to the world of Thedas, which a world without the Veil would have. It accomplishes closure for our favourite trickster god and bless them for that, but as for the plot and the world-building it ends on a meh because the narrative isn't about the people unless they're brought up as being endangered. This is why I can feel satisfaction regarding the thematic conclusion to certain character arcs, the trickster becomes the healer with the bloodiest hands, the wolf submits willingly to his trap and so on and so forth, and I can have fun with the characters and their arcs but also really mourn the game that was there, in subtext and build up over three previous games and in several tie-ins.

[yuvany]

CORPSE BRIDE ft PARK SUNGHOON

SYNOPSIS : Sunghoon finds himself in a sticky situation, yearning to return to where he came from; the land of the living and be married to the one he feels his heart beating for..

CONTENT WARNINGS : unrequited love + angst + weapons + none of these character pairing (wony and hoon) are relavant to shipping, but just a choice of characters + blood + skeletons + graveyards + kidnapping + slight body horror description + fights

ACTORS : ENHYPEN SUNGHOON x corpse bride!FEMALE READER — side characters ; wonyoung as Victoria, Gaeul as Scraps

WORD COUNT : 4379

SUNGHOON DIDN'T MEAN TO RUN AWAY, and nor did he mean to meet you. He was simply just too nervous for the wedding his parents had set him up for. Sunghoon messed up his vows and set someone's attire on fire, but most embarrasing of all, he left his soon-to-be-bride alone and went into the woods to collect his mind and go over what he seemed to have rehearsed once too many times, but still gotten it wrong. It wasn't that Wonyoung, the girl he'd marry, was any wrong, if anything she was all everyone would want.

The dark woods where he found himself walking into was filled with tree branches sticking and poking out abnormally, and moss seeming to cover each and every stone he walked by. Slowly, he began to mutter the vows, "With this hand, I will...I will..." He gives it a second go. "With this hand I empty your cup. No that's not it." Sunghoon gets it wrong again and the crows that previously hid seemed to come alive now, causing commotion in the tree crowns while he continues to try to get his vows right, the bright moon now shining through the rustling leaves of the forest. "With this hand, I lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty, I will be your wine." The sound of crows cawing becomes more insisting and demanding, encouraging Sunghoon to continue due to the new-found audience. "With this candle, I will light your way in darkness...with this ring..." He pulls out the ring from his pocket and looks at it for a second before kneeling down on one knee and propping the ring on a crooked root that extended from the ground. "...I ask you to be mine!"

The life from the forest had seemed to die in an instant, Sunghoon looks up at the quiet crows before attempting to pull the ring off the ring that had previously moved, but it manages to grab him around the wrist first. Just like that, he pulled himself free, pulling other roots along with him. While he is sprawled on the ground, he sees that the root has become a skeletal hand clamping around his wrist once more. Sunghoon exclaims in horror and shoves it away, and sees the ground in front of him split open, revealing a figure with a tattered and old wedding dress wearing his ring. "You may kiss the bride!" You cheer, but Sunghoon scrambles backwards, pushing and hitting leaves and roots while he tries to frantically escape. He makes his way through a graveyard and through the forest until he finds ease by the bridge, finally stoping to catch his breath, but when he turns around and sees you approaching him, and he is frozen in terror, letting you and the crows come close and encircle him.

The crows finally seemed to fly away and as Sunghoon looks around, all he sees are the misshapen buildings and totally different atmosphare from the last. "You were wonderful! So passionate. It was everything I dreamed of!" You exclaim giddily while a Black Widow climbs down your veil and shoots a web at Sunghoon when he takes a step back. "Now, dear, where do you think you're going?" Then an old maggot pops out of your eye, and you pop it right back in after it says, "I don't like him, he's creepy." The irony makes the situation all too hillarious, but scaring to Sunghoon who's still dizzy in the head from how sudden everything has changed.

"Oh Sunghoon! I can't wait for you to meet everyone!" You cheer excitedly. "How...how do you know my name?" He asks, hesitant, his knees quivering as he stands behind you. "You think I'd marry a stranger? Come one!" You grab him by the hand, pulling his sloppy body behind yours. You take him to the town squere while Sunghoon does his best to try to get help and get back to where he came from. He calls out, "Help! You have to help me, I've been kidnapped by . . . " before he finishes his sentence, the passer-by turns around to reveal that he is also a corspe. "...the dead." He mutters the last part unenthustiastically and recoils in horror. "He's a fresh one." Someone comments. "He's still soft." Another ones inquires, poking at Sunghoon with a stick. Everyone gathers around to observe the human.

"He's my husband. He gave me this ring!" You show it off to everyone proudly, your arm extended out and the crowd cheered and awes at the sight. Sunghoon gets overwhelmed by this, someone eagerly shakes his hand and makes a comment on how it stayed, then someone else figured put that he was breathing, fortunately, and getting close enough to hear his panting. "Oh please, leave him alone. He's only just arrived." You interrupt and turn to Sunghoon, your left eye popping out in the process and reveals the maggot from before. "We saw the whole wedding. It was romantic!" The green coloured being recalls, and from behind, the Black Widow appears again. "He reminds me of my third, seventh, twenty-fourth, and sixtythird husbands." "Before you ate them?" The maggot asks. "There was one thing missing though. He forgot to kiss the bride." Upon hearing what the maggot said, the crowd errupted in chants like highschool boys before a match in the locker rooms, and you giggle at this, hearing them chanting, "Kiss her! Kiss her!" This all still seems so surrel to Sunghoon, and he feels his eyelids shut and his knees buckle before it turns black.

Sunghoon wakes up and finds himself in some sort of pub with green flames lighting up the place, and in his field of vision, he sees skeletons leaning over him. "Have a drink dear boy." The waiter says, his head peeking through the fire and only his head is visible. He slides Sunghoon a glass before greeting you. While you mingle and spark conversations, Sunghoon waits there with wide eyes and horror as he inspects the area. He sees a band of corpses playing on some exotic instruments made of bones and scraps, and he also sees someone playing chess with a sword through his chest, and someone's jaw snaps and falls into someone else's bowl. Sunghoon feels like he's about to snap again, his knees feel restless like they want to run away and his palms are coated with glistering sweat. When no one's looking, Sunghoon finds the perfect opportunity to stand up and grabs the sword that had pierced one of the skeletons before, his sudden confidence and action caused everyone to stop what they were doing, and now they were looking at him in shock.

"Keep away! I have a ... Dwarf, and I'm not afraid to use him!! I want some questions! Now!" Sunghoon's hands are shaking and the nervousity is evident in his stance and voice. "Answers. I think you mean answers." Someone else corrects him. "Thank you, yes, answers. I need answers! Where am I? Why am I here? And who is she?!" Sunghoon calls out.

The lights suddenly dims and a spot light shines on the stage. "Since you're askin' . . . Hit it boys!" Someone on stage snapped his fingers and they began singing and dancing. After the show took a pause, Sunghoon uttered, "Pardon me, fellows, i''m going to be sick." Then they returned to singing again, and the cook hit the singer with her ladle.

The pud seemed so alive even though everyone here, excluding Sunghoon was dead. You plant a big kiss on his cheek after the song ends, leaving Sunghoon totally stunned.

You and Sunghoon were led to a table that was romantically lit by a single candle that created a comfortable atmosphare. "Dead! Demise...expired..." Sunghoon sprouted out of frustration. Then the head chef, named Paul, comes forward and speaks with a thick and clear accent. He asks if Sunghoon has any allgeriges, and he says, "Not that it matters anymore. Being that I kicked the bucket. Shuffled off this mortal coil." He says disheartened. In front of him, both you and Paul exchange awkward glances. "Young man, you are confused. You're not dead. You're just married!" Paul says, trying to cheer him up, but Sunghoon looks like he's had enough. "Very funny." "No, really. It's true." You say, and holds his hand above the candle on the table which makes him yelp out in pain. "Feel better?" You ask sincerily. Sunghoon rubs his hand and answers, "That hurt. But wait...that must mean...I'm still alive. I'm alive!" For the first time ever since he spoke his vows he seemed happy. The chef is annoyed by this, but you smile along with Sunghoon, happy that he is finally happy.

"But how can a living person marry a dead person?" He asks. "By making a vow! Which you did!" You say, smiling through it all. "But I'm already supposed to marry Wonyoung." "I'm sure she'll get over it. There's a lot of living people." You can sense how Sunghoon isn't trusting you yet.

"This Wonyoung. Did you love her?" You ask. "i never got the chance to find out. Truth is, we hardly know each other." Sunghoon sulks. "The thing is, Sunghoon, I know a lot about you. i've watched you wandering around the forest...sketching." Sunghoon perks an eyebrow at this and asks, "What? when?" "Haven't you ever felt like you weren't alone, even when you were? Or saw something out of the corner of your eye and turned and it wasn't there?" you ask and he nods. "It was me" You see how he finally relaxes and is deeply moved by this for some reason.

"We live in two different worlds, but they overlap sometimes. I think we're meant to find each other." You say. "i don't even know your name." he argues, his eyebrows are visibly knitted together as his eyes wander all over the place. "I can't believe I forgot to tell you my name...in all this excitement. My name is y/n." "I also have a little wedding gift for you." You whispered through your bony fingers and out comes a skeleton dog that rushes over to the table with its tail wagging happily. "Gaeul! My dog!" Sunghoon cheers after reading the name tag, happy to see her after a long time of being separated. Gaeul jumps up on his lap and licks him on the face. "I knew you'd be happy to see her." As you say that, the dog jumps up on the table and causes a ruckus that mkaes even the cook from earlier to interupt. "Who let that horried beast in here?" the cook exclaims in horror, her laddle waving at the dog. "He came in with the dog." Paul, the waiter, from before remarks, his eyes finding Sunghoon's. "I'm afraid he is mine. I mean was. Gaeul was my dog when I was a little boy." "Keep him out of my kitchen! Who knows where he's been." The cook cuts him off while he reminisce. The small canine friend jumps onto his lap happily while she barks.

"What a cutie." You say. "You should've seen her with fur." Sunghoon replied, while petting Gaeul. "Mother never approved of her jumping up like this. But yet again, she never approved of anything." Sunghoon sulks at the memory. "Do you think she'd approve of me?" You ask curiously. Sunghoon mocks a light of happiness and tells you, "Well, actually...now that you mentioned it, I think she would. Yes!I do believe she would. In fact, since we're m...married...you should meet her! And my father too. You should meet both my parents!" he awaits your reaction nervously. "What a fantastic idea! Let's go find them. Where are they buried?" You ask enthustiastically. "Oh, there's one slight problem..." Sunghoon whispers. "What is it?" "They're not from around here." You ask him where they are, and Sunghoon points his finger up indicating that they are still alive and breathing.

You take him to an elderly who helped creating a potion that took him and you back to the living world. You both pop up in a cementray in the night while it all had become gray again. You take a moment to yourself, missing the moonlight, so you dance under the trees, catching his full attention as your dress resembled smoke. You took a deep breath in and asked him which house was his. Sunghoon takes a moment and points to one on the right, which isn't his own home, but Wonyoung's. "Why don't I go first to prepare things?" He lies, and you trust him. After Sunghoon had ran away in the dark, the maggot and black widow appears again. Complementing her by how immensly trusting she is, but with a backhanded meaning to their words.

You now think about the situation. Sunghoon is here, in the living world, where he had mentioned a girl he was suppose to marry. With determination, you followed the path Sunghoon had previously taken. You climb up the balcony, hearing voices. "Sunghoon, what's wrong?" You hear a young female voice ask. "I seem to have found myself married. And you should know it is unexpected." He replies hesitantly. You push yousefl up at last, accidentally detaching your leg in the process. "Oh dear, and I did so want to make a good impression! I couldn't wait, darling. I wanted to meet …" Your tone sounded cherry at the start but gradually lost its light after looking up post fixing your leg. You see Wonyoung standing in front of you. Upon seeing this, you wrap one of your arms around Sunghoon's.

"Darling. Who is this?" You sneer at her. "Sunghoon! Who...What is this?" Wonyoung says horrified when she sees the ring on your finger. Sunghoon's head turns to you then Wonyoung once too many times. "Wonyoung, wait you don't understand! I can assure you it is not what you think- She's dead! Look!" He takes your boney arm and flaps it back and forth causing Wonyoung to scream. "Who is she?" You ask. "Yang Wonyoung. The girl I'm supposed to marry." Sunghoon admits. Suddenly the sound of loud banging is heard from through the door and muffled voices are heard yelling.

"You tricked me!" You say aggravated and grab his tightly, saying the word that the elder had told you to say if you wanted to return back to where you came from. Sunghoon panicks and yells for Wonyoung to save him.

"YOU LIED TO ME! Just to get back to that other woman!" You shout, your eyebrows knitted with anger. "Don't you understand. You are the other woman." Sunghoon says saddened, causing your heart to shatter. "No! You're married to me! She's the other woman!" Your hectic movements came to a halt as you wrapped your face with your bont hands and began to cry, Sunghoon is unsure of what to do and stands there awkwardly. The force of yoru tears makes your eye escape the socket, and with no other choice, Sunghoon picks it up and hands it to you again. "Look, I'm sorry....this just can't work." Sunghoon points out the elephant in the room that wasn't that obvious to you. "Why not? It's my eye isn't it?" You ask while putting it back in. "No...your eye is fine." "Really?" Your mood elevated and now you were looking at him lovetsruck again.

"Yes. Listen under different circumstances, well, who knows. But, we are just too different. I mean you're dead." He accentuates. "You should've thought about that before you asked me to marry you." You pout. "Why can't you understand? I'd never marry you!" The words struck you through the chest as if leavening a stinging sensation blooming in your chest. The words were sharp and they hurt you in ways you didn't expect Sunghoon to do. Instead of lashing out at him, you just hang your head down and turn around to walk out the elder's study, leaving Sunghoon feeling like sore thumb.

As you walk away with your head hung low, you pick up your old and dried wedding bouquet and name a couple of flowers, your sadness represented in your tone. Sunghoon can do nothing but watch as you walk away. Your two companions, the Black Window and Maggot are perched on your shoulders like birds as they tell you that Sunghoon isn't someone worth your precious mind and tears, in hopes to cheer you up.

Sunghoon walks up to you in the restaurant with the bouqet in hand, his steps are cautious in the still envirounment. "I think you dropped this..." He whispers, approaching closer and closer to you who is playing with the piano. You don't need to spare him or the flowers a glance before snatching them. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I lied to you about wanting to meet my parents. Truth is, I'm happier not to see them." he apologises, but you don't turn around nor acknowledge his attendance. The green maggot pops out once more. "Oh! Save it for the living girls, Hoon. I think you've said quite enough already." He comments.

"I never meant to-" Sunghoon gets cut off by the Black Widow appearing once again. "I've had dozens of husbands, none as awful as you. You should be ashamed!" She snarls, her legs waving hysrerically, pointing to him. "But I..." The Maggot is not early to cut him off again and says, "You're married now and there's nothing anyone can do about it. You might as well get used to it." It sounds harsh, but deep down, Sunghoon knows and understands where it's coming from.

"Don't bother, you can't force him to like me." You sulk, your back hunched. "But I do like you. Truly. It's just this evening hasn't exactly been going accoding to...plan." Sunghoon says awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. It is quiet for a while, so quiet that you'd hear a pin drop.

Sunghoon takes a seat on the chair beside you and begings playing on the piano with you. You paus and sneer at him before continuing. It continues like that, Sunghoon improvising and turning this to a duet. The melody is bitterweet yet loving, a tune for only the two of you. Gradually, you open up more, taking the spotlight for a riff, your hand popping off from your wrist and slides across the keys. You pick it up with a giggle. "Pardon my enthusiasm." "I like your enthusiasm."

IN THE VILLAGE SQUERE, spirits and skeletons are gathered with newfound energy to party. Sunghoon looks at the tear of his jacket, and before he can stare at it any longer, Black Widow appears and sews it up again, making it seem like a new jack. All the commotion is interupted by a 'newcomer'. Everyone is eager to see who it is, and Sunghoon almost immedietly calls out for the familiar figure. After chit-chatting with him, Sunghoon learns that Wonyoung is to be married with none other than Heeseung, one of the closest people to his family. Not too far away, you observe his reaction with your eyebrows knitted.

The decorations are set and everyone is cheering and celebrating. You happened to find an elder and speaks with him for a while about marriages. He tells you how it was back in his days when vows where simple and got done with rather quickly after you mentioned how quick yours and Victors were. "Lucky for me, I didn't have to! I was rather silent!" You joke, and when you look at him again, he is dead silent, not moving at all. "Excuse me?" He asks. "I was rather silent?" You repeat, now a lot more hesitant and unsure. "You didn't say your vows?" You shake your head. "My child, you muct both say the vows for the marriage to be binding." The air is still as you stare at each other. You had accidenatlly tricked Sunghoon this whole time, and now you were afraid he'd know about this and run away.

"Surely there's some way to fix this?" You're desperate to get an answer now. "You'll have to complete the cermony by saying your vows." "I'll say them right now!" Your breath is caught in your air way as you choke this out only for the elder to shake his head. He tells you that since the original cermony occured in the land of the living, your vows will need to be in the land of the living as well. Your bones are shaking and you can't bear to hear someone else tell you to be 'reasonable'. If you want to go to the living world, then so be it, but you don't want him to tell you that maybe the two of you weren't meant to be. You wanted to cry out of anger, it was as if nothing you ever desired would land in your arms easily. You have had enough of this.

"Listen up people! Listen up! There's a change of venue! Grab what you can and follow me! We're moving this party." Everyone cheers in excitement, but the elder has a look of concern on his face. While on the way, people rocket quesntions your way, and you ramble out an answer in an instant, not wanting to seem suspicious to Sunghoon in any way.

IN THE WORLD OF THE LIVING You and Sunghoon are close like a set. It is all well and the elder flips through a book as you and Sunghoon joing him for the ceremony. "Let's get straight to the vows. Living first." He bows to Sunghoon. You slip the ring off your finger and place it in his palm, he smiles at you, and you smile back, but there's a piece of guilt in your heart. After he finishes his vows, putting the ring back on your finger, the elder motions for you to say your vows. You take a deep breath in and began to speak, but half-way through you spot a familiar face hiding in the courner of the place, horror written on her face, it was Wonyoung.

"I can't" You pause. "What's wrong?" Sunghoon asks confused. "This is wrong." You let a tear roll down your cold cheek. Once again, you pull the ring off your finger. As you look at him you recall the desperate moments you shared with Sunghoon, it was embarrasing to think that this could be; the living and the dead. It all added up likes puzzle pieces and you were finally ready to accept the truth that stung so badly, leaving a permanent scar deep, deep within the old ones that are yet to heal.

"I LOVE YOU, Sunghoon, but you're not mine. My dreams were stolen from me, and now I've taken them from someone else." You look over at where you had seen the young lady, Wonyoung, before, and Sunghoon does so too. "Wonyoung!" he whispers to himself at the sight. Upon being the new centre of attention, you ask Wonyoung to come forward, and she does. You take her hand in yours, and asks Sunghoon for his as well. You gently place his on top of her hers, happy for them to finally be reunited. "Oh, how touching. I always cry at weddings." Another familiar voice calls out, and everyone looks over at the gate to reveal Heeseung causing the trio to gasp. "Our young lovers together at least. Surely now they can live happily ever after." He walks upp to the altar and grabs Wonyoung by the wirst, succesfully snatching her away from you two.

"you." you whisper, your pupils shrinking at the horrid sight. "y/n?" He echoes, equally as shocked. "You!" you repeat angered. "but-but, I left you" He stutters, and you finish his sentence, "for dead." This statement causes everyone in the crowd to gasp. Heeseung does his best to escape, even pulling a sword from someone's body only to first aim it at Wonyoung's throat and then at Sunghoon who challenge him to a duel. It is an intense chase of cat and mouse before Sunghoon gets knocked down on the floor, the sword aimed at his face. Heeseung doesn't hesitate to strike his sword at him, and you don't hesitate either to come in between, grebbing the sword that had stuck in between your ribs. You pulled it out and aimed it at him.

"get out." you ordered him. "Oh, I'm leaving." he says, walking up to the altar and grabbing a cup from the table all whilst you're still on guard. "But first, a toast to y/n!" he says raising his cup with red liquid. "Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. Tell me, my dear, can a heart still break once it stopped beating? hmm?" His words are harsh, leaving yet another scar. You silenly watch as he takes a gulp of the cup which he thinks is wine, but is actually poision, and he dies just before he manages to get out of the building.

While the rest of the corpses takes care of the now dead Heeseung, Sunghoon and Wonyoung are snuggled together. "I never thought I'd see you again." You walk away, not wanting to disturb their moment until you hear the male voice call out for you to wait. "I made a promise." He says, chasing behind you. "you kept your promise. you set me free. Now, I can do the same for you." You say one last time, pulling the ring off your finger and encaving it in his palm by clasping yours around his before turning around. The tears are eager to escape, but you wont let them, not now at least. With one last glace behind, your throw the bouquet in your grasp to the newly made couple with a smile before you stepped out in the bright moonlight. The second it hits your veil, it began to crumble and turn into small butterlies and just like that, you disappeared with no regrets.

TAGLIST : @dollyhoon @itjengirl @saeivra @orimuraa @pshwrldd

[allfearstofallto]

Day of the Wedding

Yandere! Genshin Men x Fem! Reader

Ft: Diluc, Childe, Scaramouche

Forced Marriage AU

TW: Yandere Themes, Forced(?) Alcohol Consumption

AN: I checked today and I have 900 followers??? That's actually insane!!! This is what I've got to offer I guess!!

Diluc

Who wouldn't cry tears of joy when marrying the most desired bachelor of Mondstadt? That's what people thought when they saw you dressed from head to toe in pure white, the only thing throwing your princess attire off being your smeared makeup. Your eyes, so red and puffy, had mascara running down your cheeks. Black tears staining your face.

Despite the way you looked, you still forced a smile. It was a small wedding, containing only those close to the both of you, but your family couldn't help, but wonder why you chose to stay close under your newly wed husband, almost seeming afraid to talk to them.

When the vows were spoken, you could barely get the words out. Your voice shaking through sobs as your tears fell upon the page of written notes, eventually making the ink leak and becoming ineligible. You still spoke your I Do’s, followed by him lifting your veil and kissing you right upon your lips. His hand snaked around your waist and the other held your head in place. But you, you stood there stiffly, like kissing him had made you turn into stone.

Diluc pulled away with a smile, his mouth stained with a slight tint of your lipstick. He walked you back down the aisle, with the crowd throwing rice and cheering. On the happiest day of your life where you were supposed to be looking forward ahead of you, you just kept looking back, hoping that your family could see the distress in your eyes, though they never did.

Childe

So many of Childe's siblings and cousins and aunts and uncles came to the wedding, but not a single one of your family members joined you.

“She's not close to her family,” he'd say, holding on to your waist with a threatening hand. That was a lie. You loved your family. You saw them often, at least, you did before the day you abruptly decided to move to Snezhnaya without a word to them. You hadn't seen them since and they didn't know where to send letters, you were essentially a ghost of their past. Your memory haunted them daily as they missed you dearly and you missed them too.

The wedding lasted days and days. A surprise to even you, but apparently that's tradition. Games and singing. There was dancing happening for what felt like hours. And drinking. So so so much drinking. With a feast that spanned almost an entire table, there was an abundance of alcohol to match.

You could hardly keep up with the festivities. In an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people being wed to a man you thought you knew. Childe wouldn't let you show your discomfort on your face, meeting your lips with a glass of whatever he was drinking, you'd gulp down even more and fall into that drunken dizziness. When the wedding ended, you don't exactly remember. It all became a blur near the end. But you remember waking up to Childe laying you down in bed, placing a kiss on your forehead and whispering words of praise to you that would've been comforting, had it not been for who he was.

Scaramouche

He always adored the way you looked in kimono. Today was no different. The pure white silk draped over your body was by far the nicest one he'd gifted you. Dolled up in traditional make-up, you felt so stiff with your now decadent appearance.

You'd feel less scared if he wasn't still wearing that same glare. That same look of anger and disappointment. Even though it was just the two of you in the room, you him and the officiant who would wed the two of you, he still glared at the man like one mistake would kill him. And it probably would.

Your hand shook as you picked up what looked to be the tea pot, something he made you practice time and time again to prepare just for today. Getting it wrong today would mean facing his wrath later, yet you still shook while pouring it into the small bowl. You watched with a pounding heart as you managed to spill some, dripping onto the floor and sinking between the wood.

Meeting his gaze and preparing for a scolding, you instead saw him lightly chuckle. Seldom did he smile and even more rare than that, did he actually laugh. The sight was even scarier than his usual glares, somehow his joy made him seem even more menacing.

“I expected this much from you,” he whispered into the silence. His nimble fingers gripped the rim of the bowl and he brought it to your lips, making you take a sip of the warm alcohol. It was bitter and disgusting, just as you'd remembered. When you swallowed your sip, he took one right after you, finishing off what was left in the dish, then sitting it to the side again.

Your names were signed onto a piece of parchment, a wedding document written in traditional Inazuma script. You couldn't read a word of it, but there was no worse contract than the one that said you'd be his lawfully wedded wife.

Scaramouche held your hand as the two of you walked out of the shrine, his fingers cold and his grip tight. It was such a beautiful day out. That was all you could think about as you were walked back to his carriage which would take you to his home. Your last day as a truly free woman, you were glad it was beautiful.

[pottersmiracle]

Drunk words are sober thoughts

Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves x Fem! Reader

warnings: tiny bit of angst here and there-fluff-drunk ben-clingy/affectionate ben-klaus teasing you both-use of y/n-small bit of pet names (by ben)-drunk ben talks about being married to you 👀

summary: your boyfriend tries his best to act like the umbrella academy being there doesnt affect him, he also tries to act like he doesnt care that they don’t like him. But he’s horrible at hiding it from you.

a/n: rewatching tua - if this man doesnt get a smidge of happiness in season 4 im rioting - someone give sparrow ben a hug and a kiss - not proofread don’t murder me - pls send requests for umbrella academy characters 🙏

Masterlist

Ben was drunk. Really drunk. You were sitting next to him at the table and Klaus came over and started talking to you both, mainly you because you were actually interested in talking to him, “eleven people.” Ben mumbled. “Huh?” Klaus asked, you looked at Ben confused. “There are only eleven people left.” He says looking at both of you.

“Okay.. drunk ben clearly likes numbers and.. shrimp.” Klaus says looking at Ben’s plate. You laugh softly as Ben looks at Klaus, “and you couldn’t even invite me to your stupid bachelor party.” You sigh and lean back in your chair. You were right

“Oh.” Klaus said taken aback, “have we finally flicked off bad benny’s hard candy shell?” “Why don’t you like me?” Ben asked, his words slurring a bit. “Because you’re a big puckering asshole!” Klaus admitted. Actually its not like you could disagree with him, Ben was an asshole to klaus and the others.

You let them talk and walked around talking to everybody, congratulating Luther and Sloane, even having an actual nice talk with Reginald, Ben was staring him down the whole time though.

You walked past Fives table and nodded at him, you could tell he was severyly drunk and it was honesty humorous. He raised his glass to you and nodded as you laughed and walked back over to your boyfriend who was watching you as you sat down.

“You left me.” Ben pouted. You laughed and scooted your chair closer to him, “you were having a conversation. I gave you two some privacy.” Klaus gave you a smile and took a sip of his drink.

Ben groaned in response and took a bite of his shrimp as you all watched Reginald stand up to make a speech. You rubbed Ben’s back softly as Reginald talked, as he talked you notice Viktor and Allison. They were in a heated argument it was obvious but Allison ended up leaving the wedding.

“The sun rises over a lily’s field. A mother veiled, her lips concealed. The mourners come in droves of black to bury what their hearts unpack. With shallow breath and time eclipsed, i pray you miss death’s gentle kiss.” Reginald finished his speech and looked at everyone.

You clapped lightly and klaus cheered, “Beautiful! bravo dad! Bravo!” Ben stared at his father, “makes no sense.” He mumbled, you smiled at him and held his hand.

Chet turned on some more upbeat music after Reginalds dark speech. Everyone got up to dance except for you, Ben, and Viktor. “Can i tell you something?” Ben asked sitting up to look at you, his words were slurring but not enough to not understand him. “Of course.” You said.

“I would’ve loved getting married to you.” He admitted. “Just.. not at the end of the world.” He said slowly. You looked at him, you were shocked that he said that. He was always affectionate but not like this. He got up and kissed the top of your hand before standing up, “come on, let’s dance.” He had a wide grin on his face, he was officially in his chaotic stage of drunk. You tried to push off what he said as, he’s just drunk, its nothing to think about.

Although drunk words are sober thoughts..

After the fun dancing, everyone sat on the roof and hung out. You sat next to Sloane with Ben and Klaus trailing behind you, Ben sat next to you and wrapped an arm around you and Klaus sat next to Ben.

Ben rested his head on yours and Five got up, he wobbled around and everyone started yelling and laughing, “i feel like im gonna throw up.. actually, i’m hungry.” He said his goodbyes to everyone before going inside followed by Diego and Lila.

Ben and Klaus got up to leave as well. “Oh god.” You muttered standing up, “i should follow them. Goodnight guys, congratulations.” You smile at Luther and Sloane who smile back, “goodnight!” Viktor said goodnight to them as well and went inside with you.

[chososdiscordkitten]

Prettier In Pink.

artist: @g00miato

Synopsis: Discovering the wonders of lingerie with Choso.

Pairing: Sub!Choso x GN!reader Content: some plot, mostly smut, no penetrative sex, he wears panties hehe, mentions of different sexual acts (him fucking r!, r! fucking him, oral ect), handjob, edging, nipple play, use of good boy, PRAISE, the mark on his nose leaks •⩊•, ik anon made it sound like teasing- but he's just soooo pretty I never wanna write edging him, he deserves to cum :> no aftercare (sue me.)

(a.n) you know how choso hyperventilated nd groaned when he found out Yuuji is his brother? yeah. that's what I listened to while writing this.

MDNI

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Choso asked as his knees dug into the bed. Blush evident on his cheeks, the prominent black stripe on the bridge of his nose threatening to waver its lines from how embarrassed he was.

One of his hands pulled on the veil like fabric to cover his leaking tip. Precum seeping onto the thin lace panties that trapped his cock. 

This all started when the topic of lingerie was brought up. At first Choso didn't really understand the point- “Isn't it just gonna be taken off right after?” he asked as you showed him photos of potential pieces of lace you could buy. 

“Well I mean, yeah-” you scoffed with a grin, turning off your phone and looking at his expression- lost as to how it would be different from any other piece of clothing. “It's like when you choose fun wrapping paper for a present.” you grinned about the metaphor you were using, “It would be fine if you gave it to someone without it- but the wrapping makes it so much more fun.” you smiled sweetly, seeing his eyebrows furrow and thinking of receiving an unwrapped present.

“Isn't it the best part of receiving a gift?” you asked, seeing a lightbulb flicker behind his eyes, “Unwrapping it to reveal the best part?” you grinned, watching as he nodded his head agreeingly. Though the look in his eyes wasn't quite convinced. 

That was until you surprised him with a black lace set leaving very little to his imagination. Complete with a pair of sheer stockings held up by black garters.

After that Choso saw the light and the excitement in unwrapping you before sex. Only after, when you leaned over to his ear as you tried to catch your breath, whispering “Your turn.” 

Choso didn't know they made lingerie for men, he was completely unaware how they could make such delicate lace pieces for people with his build. 

That was until you came home from shopping, handing him a little pink bag with white tissue paper on the top. And as he plucked the tissue from the pink bag- revealing light pink lace at the bottom- just by looking at it he knew there was little to no fabric. 

Choso got excited thinking that you were gonna wear it- looking back up at you with sparkling eyes. Only for you to greet him with a smile he knew all too well, he looked back down into the bag. Coming to the realization that you meant what you said when you whispered that it was his turn.

And as he tried to put on the thin lace, he came to the revelation that this wasn't meant for a man's body. Little to no space in the panties for his cock to fit in, the thin thong of the panties felt like he was wearing nothing on his bottom. But he was thankful you at least chose a set that had a skirt. 

Even if it was skimpy and was held onto his waist from a single satin pink ribbon that could easily come undone- Choso was grateful that his growing bulge would be covered by the thin fabric. All too aware of the possibility that if he moved in any way, his ass would be showcased in full. Be it the slit on the back or how short it was. 

And god- the top was the worst part. Choso tried buckling the small clasp that was supposed to hold the bralette onto his chest, his hands trying to reach up to connect the endings. Trying to remember how it was supposed to clasp together. But his fingers only ever undid the clasps, never did he hook them back on.

“I'm waitinngg!” you shouted from your shared bed, impatiently waiting for him to come out of the master bathroom in the pink wrapping you carefully chose, purposefully a few sizes too small for him. And as you said that, Choso finally got the clasp to stay in place, seeing his chest fill in the padless cups of the light pink bra. 

Choso furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at himself in the mirror- a sliver of embarrassment forming in his chest as he looked at the pink bows beneath the breast cups.

He inhaled deeply- feeling the dainty lace stretch against his chest as he did. Quickly deflating his lungs in fear he might tear the fabric. The hem of the thin skirt ending right below his bulge. Thinking how it was only fair that if you wore something like this for him- he had to do it for you too.

Choso opened the door of the restroom, shuffling out and into your line of sight as you watched his hand tug at the little skirt to cover his veiled bulge. You gasped in adoration as you watched him take little steps- afraid he’d tear the over expensive lace with any movement. 

He raised his knee onto the bed slowly, glancing at your amazed expression as he settled onto the bed, his hand held onto the hem of the skirt. Hoping the see through veil would cover his cock in the little panties. 

You were sitting laxly on the bed, your back on the pillows as your hand reached out for him, guiding him to straddle you, placing one thick thigh on each side of you.

As though it was instinct, your hands pressed onto his bare thighs, thumbs rubbing small circles on his pale muscles as you gazed at his red face.

Choso’s mouth dared to pull up on one side as he watched your gaze darken, knowing that little smile on your lips meant you were enjoying yourself.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he murmured, the blush on his cheeks had to be alarming at this point. Your lips were curled in a desirous smile, having him in the frilly pink lingerie almost made your eye twitch from how cute he looked right now. 

His thick thighs caged you onto the bed, hovering right above your own as he looked down at you. 

You parted your lips as your hand trailed up and down his thighs adoringly- his hand still holding down the front of the pink veil that was closer to a belt than a skirt. 

Your gaze was dark- more greedy than anything. “I don’t think ive ever wanted anything more, Cho.” you whispered as one of your hands landed on his elbow gently, coaxing his hand to pull away from the hem. 

“It's embarrassing..” he murmured, watching as your fingers wrapped around his wrist gently, “What's embarrassing about this?” you cooed, pulling his hand away from the hem with a quiet gasp from his lips, “Hmm?” you looked at the lace straining against his cock, Choso’s tip was threatening to poke from the band of the panties as your hand rubbed on his thigh gently. 

His lips were shut tight as the air brisked against the fabric, your hands guided his hips to ease down onto your thighs, feeling his bottom rest on your legs. Finding it that much hotter that you were fully clothed, and here he was- practically naked in front of you. 

You rolled up the sleeves of your shirt to avoid a mess before trailing a hand up his side as he eased his weight onto your legs, his shoulders shivering from the gentle touch the pads of your fingers left on his exposed skin. “You look as pretty as I pictured.” you murmured as you traced your finger onto the ridges of his abs, curling your thumb beneath the pink bows on the bralette, your fingers easing onto his ribs as your other hand caressed at his exposed hip. 

He furrowed his eyebrows and lowered his eyes, not being able to handle the scalding gaze you were burning through him. Choso started shifting on your legs slowly- uneasy from the dynamic that was arranged for him. Your thumb roamed up the lace on his chest- strained from his hardened nipple beneath it. A small gasp left his throat as your thumb gently grazed over the little mound. 

Still avoiding your gaze- his hands grasped onto your shoulders in attempts to brace for whatever you had for him. And in tandem, his back arched in the slightest way, pushing his chest closer to your face. 

You looked at his expression that was littered with a mix of excitement and humiliation. Smiling before pressing a kiss onto his exposed sternum, humming as the hand on his hip lowered down to his thigh again, denting the tips of your fingers into the plentiful skin. 

Choso breathed shakily at the wet kiss you placed on where his heart would be, your lips separated by skin and bones. Trailing more sloppy pecks onto the swell of his chest, the lace grazing your chin as your thumb gently brushed back and forth on the hardened pebble beneath delicate lace, earning small whimpers from his dry throat. His cheeks were an alarming shade of red, the black stripe on his nose bridge was wavering in shape from the simple touches.

He inhaled as you licked a stripe on the edge of the lace, “Did it feel this-” he started quietly, watching your tongue wet the light lace adorning his chest. “This revealing, when you wore-” his words were cut off with a shuddering gasp by your tongue running past his laced nipple, pulling back and looking at him, trailing your hand towards his inner thigh. 

You huff in amusement at how sensitive he was. Your breath wisps against the wet fabric causing his chest to rise with a heavy inhale. “It's supposed to feel revealing.” you grinned as your fingertips danced on the pale skin between his thighs, purposefully ignoring the obvious tent beneath the veiled skirt. 

Choso was about to reply- but your lips latched onto his nipple, the tip of your tongue waltzing against the ridges of the lace. His lips parting at the sudden warmth, eyes batting closed as the tip of your tongue traced around the ring of color, deliberately ignoring the pebble beneath the delicate fabric. His hand wandered down your shoulder as he tried to suppress the throaty grunts that dared leave his lungs.

Choso was huffing harshly, only earning for his chest to press against your face. The hand dancing on his thigh traced up his side, landing on his ribs as he let out a stifled grunt from the frustration. Both of your hands holding onto his back in an attempt to keep him still, fingers splayed against his pale back. 

Choso’s hold on your shoulders threatened to grip harder as your fingers pressed onto his back bringing his chest closer to your face. You pulled your lips from the soaked fabric, pursing your lips and blowing gently as goosebumps formed beneath your fingers, your lips so close to his nipple he could feel every breath you exhaled wisp against the damp lace.

You smiled before baring your teeth, your lips pressed against them as you licked one light stripe onto the little peak beneath the lace before lightly sinking down your front teeth onto the bud. Choso gasped harshly at the faint bite, causing his chest to cave and his shoulders to shiver from the feeling. Your eyes glimmered as you looked up at him, “You're so cute Cho~” you huffed in astonishment. 

You pulled away from him just enough to take in the full sight of him, your hungry eyes scouring every single inch of skin you could see. On his chest, small circles of saliva left behind from your messy kisses. The roaming blush down his neck accentuating the evidence of your endearing pecks, causing the ache between your own thighs to pulse. 

Choso fanned his eyelashes closed, embarrassed from how long you were staring, and your gaze fell onto his abs that were starting to glimmer from the light sweat that seeped from his skin. 

Your tongue darted past your bottom teeth in reflex, mouth watering as Choso looked down to your actions. Pressing your warm tongue onto his lightly salted skin, right above the first set of the ridges of his abs. His jaw fell softly, feeling your tongue trail up to his sternum with a low hum that vibrated against his suede flesh. The taste of his skin soaking onto the palate of your tongue causing a hum in the shape of a moan to buzz against his chest.

The hand on your shoulder trailing onto your neck, keeping a gentle hold as he watched you level yourself in his sight again.

Looking at him with a seemingly innocent smile on your lips before extending your neck up, Choso met you halfway- pressing his lips onto yours as you greedily sucked his tongue into the cavern of your mouth. His hand held the side of your neck to make sure you wouldn't pull away, his eyes were shut tight, eyebrows knitted as your hands slid down to his waist. You watched him with a half lidded gaze as your tongue swirled against his. 

Choso moaned into the kiss as your hands roamed to the swell of his bottom, your soft fingers giving his ass a light squeeze. The thin skirt creased in your grip before trailing your light fingers onto his hips in unison. 

He gasped into your mouth, breaking the kiss as he felt the tip of his harrowing cock pop from the band of the little panties that only held his balls now, you snapped your gaze down- his tip holding up the skirt in the shape of a tent as his precum started pooling onto the sheer fabric, causing it to become translucent.

Choso only let out an embarrassed huff at your staring. You pouted a feigned ‘awee’ before looking back up at him, trailing your hand from the side of his thigh to the inside of it.

“Have I been neglecting your pretty cock?” You cooed, Choso sighed at the words you spoke in a condescending tone. Even if it was a sort of praise it still sounded somewhat demeaning. He turned his head to the side with a soft exhale, his chest gleaming a blush against the lace as you giggled, raising your hand slightly and looking down to the translucent chiffon on his leaking tip. 

Though he was on top, and had a bigger frame- you had the control here. 

You lightly pressed the end of your pointer finger to his reddening tip that stood proud beneath the fabric. Choso’s chest heaved at the light pressure, his lungs threatening to let out whiny moans, only for you to pull your finger away from him with a mean smile. 

You sighed a dreamy breath, taking a second to look at him with your hand rubbing the top of his thigh soothingly. “Look at you-” you gasped in disbelief, his cock twitching from the compliment, coaxing a fresh pump of pre from his tip.

You slid your hands to his waist, slowly snaking them back to the silk ribbon that held the skirt on his hips, your face was unbelievably close to his as you pulled one of the pink bows’ tails, the top of the skirt loosening by the action. Choso looked at your face, bashful eyes staring into yours as you gently pulled the thin skirt from his waist, leaning back with a gasp and looking at the pretty pink panties that truly hid nothing- 

Choso’s chest let out a hic from looking at your expression as you tossed the soiled skirt to the side. Sighing as you looked at his state, the urge to keep teasing him was strong- but the look on his face made you feel like you were being a little too mean. With a sniffle from his almost pained expression, you caved. 

You grazed the tip of your finger from the band of the panties to the underside of his cock, gathering his precum on the pad- watching his face contort in attempts to not whimper at the feeling. Your other hand rubbing back and forth atop his thigh to soothe your teasing touch. Choso’s grasp on your shoulders was threatening to firmen- needing something to grip onto if you to keep on this way. 

“What sweet boy?” you hummed almost teasingly, “How do you want me?” you whispered in a coo, your touch against his cock was light- barely applying any pressure. But it was present enough for his lips to press shut tightly in attempts to hide his moans, knowing they’d come out in strained whimpers if he allowed them to leave his lips.

He looked at you with bewildered eyes- not being able to process the question. “You wannt-” you started, pressing the pad of your finger onto his crying slit before sliding it down to the side of his cock head, “My mouth?” you smiled with a perked brow, inhaling the sight of his face at your words. 

You leaned over- your lips brushing against his ear as your finger traced down his shaft, “You wanna fuck me?” you whispered- a shiver running down his spine at your enticing offers. One of the hands on your shoulders snaking to hold the back of your head to keep you close to him.

Choso inhaled with a light whine at the breath filling his lungs- quickly releasing the air before repeating the heavy breaths littered with whimpers- all but hyperventilating as you licked a stripe against the warm cartilage. With a seducing tone, “You wan’me to fuck you?” you huffed with a smirk, carefully wrapping your fingers around his shaft in a ghost-like grasp.  

His chest was practically heaving at your overwhelming words, unable to process what you were asking. The lines of the black marking across his nose bridge becoming wobbly, showing you he was getting off on your teasing maundering just as much as you were. 

You pressed a kiss to his feverish ear, trailing sloppy pecks down his neck- gently sucking on the prominent vein on his jugular, formed from how desperately he was holding back his moans. Lightly lapping your saliva on his neck, the glisten almost looked like glass from how thick it laid on his skin.  

“You wan’your mouth filled?” You rumbled against his collarbones as you gently pressed your thumb onto his weeping cockhead.

A throaty grunt left his throat from the act, the hand on his thigh trailing up his ribs with a feather light touch. Pressing supple kisses to the swell of his chest, rubbing your thumb lightly back and forth earning a few more semi-clear tears to leak from his exposed tip. 

In a way, your offers were spoken to fluster him- knowing he wouldn't last long from the expression decorating his face, along with the unfiltered whines between his heavy breaths. 

Choso’s eyes tried to stay open- watching your tender lips press adoring kisses onto his skin, but your gentle hold on his cock made his vision fuzzy from how obscene his view was. 

Your hand reached his back- goosebumps trailing in wake of your touch. 

You hesitantly tightened your grip on his cock, feeling your pinkie graze the band of his panties that held his balls exquisitely- adding just enough pressure to keep him from cumming prematurely.

Choso could barely focus on breathing- let alone make the choice you were leaving in his hands. 

Your thumb was lazily circling on his tip- his fingers gripping onto the fabric of your shirt as your fingers reached the hook of the lacey bra that Choso spent too much time trying to clasp. 

Your lips latched on his nipple once more- this time placing all the attention on the little bud that strained against the pink lace, a guttural moan left his throat as your thumb moved back and forth in tandem with your tongue, the hand on his back undid the hook on the thin wings of the bralette, causing the fabric to become shapeless in your mouth. 

You unlatched your lips from his nipple, slipping the lifeless lace from his chest. Wasting no time before you connected your lips onto it once more, leaving nothing to separate your tongue from his puffy nipple. 

With a circle from the tip of your tongue, you pulled away from his nipple with a quiet ‘pop’ before trailing wet sloppy kisses in between his tits. Latching onto his neglected nipple, sucking harshly as his hips bucked up into your hand- enticing you to stroke him quicker. 

Choso’s whines told you what his lips couldn’t- he was close. So, so fucking close. 

His breathing was ragged, on the verge of hyperventilating as you slowed your thumbs motions- gaining a frustrated grunt from his chest. Lightly dragging it down to the little v that formed beneath his cockhead.

Your tongue lapped at his puffy nipple as he started muttering incomprehensible pleads through breathy whimpers- the pad of your thumb gently pressing onto the sensitive skin, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull with a drawn out moan.

Even if Choso decided on how he wanted you- it was too easy to let him cum from a few lingering touches. So as his shoulders started shuddering- mouth slack jawed as his hips twitched- you pulled your hand away alongside your lips from his pink nipple. Leaving him right on the edge with an exasperated whine- his head bowed down as he caught his breath. 

A saccharine smile on your lips was what greeted Choso when he managed to raise his head, a sweet expression as though you had done nothing wrong. 

Both your hands landed on the loose bra straps that dangled on his biceps, loose from not being clasped together anymore. ”Let's get this off of you-” you muttered as he eased his grip on your shoulders- allowing you to pull off the damp pink lace and toss it mindlessly.

Choso’s cock stood tall between you, the little pink panties accentuating his reddening tip that was coated in a copious amount of precum that worked better than any lube.

His eyes were low, almost asking you why you’d derive him from the orgasm he was riding up. And as though you could read his mind- “You didn't tell me how you wanted me.” you smiled sweetly, almost apathetic as you watched his glistening chest settle into a breathing pattern. Choso looked down to his cock- your hand close to it- so close he could feel your warmth seep onto his shaft. 

Choso looked at the silken precum that messied your palm, “Well?” you hummed sweetly, earning for him to meet eyes with you. His lips parted as your clean hand came up to swipe away damp strands of hair from his forehead.

He was finally able to collect his thoughts as your hand gently caressed his blushed cheek, Choso knew he wouldn't be able to act on any of your proposals for longer than a few minutes. Just thinking of your mouth, of fucking you; made his tip twitch. And he knew if you fucked him, the prep alone would take too long for his tastes. His mouth watered from thinking of you stuffing his mouth while he came-

“Your hand-” he murmured with furrowed eyebrows as you raised your own. “C-can I fuck your hand?” he whispered with an exhilarated tone. You were surprised, sure. Thinking he would have asked for something else- anything else, but he chose your hand for his own reasons. So you gave him a sweet smile before pulling your hands from his searing body. 

Reaching for the hem of your shirt and tossing it to the other discarded articles of clothing on the floor. You tapped the top of his thigh lightly- urging him to raise himself a little. 

And as he did, you sank down into the bed further, his thighs on the sides of your hips leaving you directly in the splash zone. Choso looked down at you- already feeling apologetic before he even did anything. 

You parted your lips as the angle infiltrated your pupils- the sight was similar to missionary. But only this time, your legs were caged by his thighs, and his cock was hovering over your tummy. 

Choso was going to object to this position- not wanting to dirty you with his seed. But as your hand came into view, hovering right above your belly as your fingers formed an ‘o’ shape, awaiting his cock to push past the small opening. 

Choso gulped before placing his shaky hand to his pale base, guiding the red tip of his cock to press against your fists opening. His eyebrows knitting as he slowly rolled his hips into the tight ring, your clean hand landing on his thigh again as he slowly pushed his tip past the taut opening. Trying not to cum from the over-surrounding feeling of your hand around his cock.

Coating your hand in even more of his pre as his chest struggled to keep the breathing pace he just steadied. “It's okay Cho-” you muttered with an excited smile- “You can go as fast as you'd like.” you assured, watching his eyebrows knit as he dragged his cock from your fist slowly. 

He quickly thrusted his cock back in with a drawn out whimper. Taking your words to heart as he started sloppily thrusting in and out of your hand- the angle looked like he was fucking you- but his twitching thighs beside your hips made it seem like he was riding you. 

“There you go~” you smiled, feeling the harsh jolts of his thrusts shake the bed, Choso’s lungs unwillingly let out heaves littered with whines- his hips rolling into your hand as you watched him with prying eyes. Squeezing your fist when his cockhead would breach the rim of your fingers. 

He tried keeping his spine straight, he tried to not let his posture falter. But his knees couldn't keep holding him up- causing his hands to fall on either side of you. Face to face, chest to chest and keeping his sloppy thrusts in and out of your hand as you watched the faltering stripe on his nose start to drip slowly down his rosy cheeks.

Choso’s blushed chest was searing against yours, his sensitive nipples dragging up and down against your bare chest from his rigorous thrusts.

“You're so pretty-” you whispered against Choso’s lips, brushing against each other as he huffed in every breath you exhaled. His thrusts were borderline rabid- almost like he was trying to finish before you could pull your hand away again. 

Trailing your hand up the side of his hip, parting your lips as you watched the dark red tears fall from his stripe. Your hand held onto the side of his ass, gripping lightly as he fluttered his eyes closed and pressed his parted lips to yours.

The kiss he instigated was messy- mostly teeth and imprecise movements from his tongue as his moans vibrated against your lips. Your hand was caged between your tummy and his clenching abs that signaled he was close. 

He trailed a hand from the sheets up to the side of your face, pulling his lips from you as his striped nose bumped against yours. 

Your lips were brushing against his with every jolt from his thrusts, his half lidded eyes staring into yours. “S-so fucking good for me.” you stuttered through clenched teeth- words spoken into the warm air that hung between your lips and his.

Almost as though he was trying to suck your soul directly from your lungs- he gasped deeply, his hips stuttering their thrusts into your fist as he tried warning, ‘M’cumm-cumming- im cummi-’ into the air between your lips, forcing his half lidded eyes to stay open as his balls clenched in the lacy panties- 

With one guttural moan, his cock oozed out warm hard earned white streamers onto your torso. Fucking your clenched fist sloppily, Choso’s spasming hips struggled to bring himself down from the well won orgasm. 

You pressed a kiss onto his parted lips, slowly working your fist up and down his shaft in attrition as he muttered a curse. Your hand on the swell of his bottom wandering up to the little dimples of his back rubbing softly to soothe him as your palm threatened to overstimulate him. But the little hic’s from his blushed lips made that mean urge melt along with the violent trembles from his back.

His forehead pressed against yours as you assisted him in the comedown, breathing in the same air as his hips twitched in your grasp. His eyes threatened to blink shut from how your hand felt as you stroked him tenderly.

Slowly, Choso’s cock softened in your hand, pressing a sloppy opened mouth kiss to the corner of your lips. Raising himself ever so slightly onto his forearms, easing his head onto your chest as his mess spread on his own stomach, just fucked out enough to not even bother in getting a wet towel.

Basking in the afterglow as his eyes threatened to stay closed. Still breathing heavily as you placed your clean hand onto the back of his head, tangling in his black hair and scratching your nails lightly on his scalp as his eyelashes bat against your chest, small spasms rattling in his shoulders. 

Choso sighed softly, “They don't make lingerie for men, do they?” he asked with a breathy tone, your laugh rumbled against the side of his cheek from the question. You pressed a small kiss to the top of his head, “I'm sure they do- but you look prettier in pink.” you hummed as he gave a small grunt against your skin from the compliment. 

Knowing you were biased since that was the only kind of lingerie you've seen on him. But certainly not the last.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

this is what my dreams are made of. truly. strong men in pink frilly lingerie. nobody asked for it but alr plotting a prequel of reader showing him lingerie (them in it) where Choso ISNT a sub??? what?? me writing non sub Choso???? the world has flipped upside down

[ki-yomii]

beg | myg

➥ pairing | min yoongi x f!reader

➥ word count | 1.2k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, mild degradation, mild praise kink, established relationship, rough oral (m receiving), throatfucking, teasing, pet names, throat bulge, studio sex, wet & messy, reader wears a necklace with yoongi's initial

➥ summary | requested from this - "Oh no, not until you beg." & "Relax your throat." With Min Yoongi :3

➥ notes | for anon~ hope you enjoy 🧡 un-edited, I’ll come back to fix things when it’s not 2 AM lol

masterlist | ask box | AO3

The low hum of the A/C unit overhead and the whir of the computer fan kicking on is almost enough to drown out the wet gags and gargled breathing but only just.

Not that it really matters - the hours had long since crept past midnight, and Yoongi was meticulous when it came to the design of his studio.

Key pad, double doored, soundproofed to hell and back; the whole shebang.

Millions of won poured into the construction of the four walls that made up his altar, his church. Furthermore, not only did others give a wide berth when he's on-site at HYBE, but even fewer have the special privilege of being granted access to his private sanctum.

You're one of the lucky ones.

Mind, it took several (long) months of veiled suggestions and cajoling to get you to where you are now, but it was worth it in the end.

Watching a man so thoroughly married to his work set aside his convictions to give attention to your relationship doesn't sit right with you. Plus, it wasn’t sustainable in the long run - even though you appreciate the effort.

No, this arrangement is much better - the best of both worlds.

Not only do you get to spend time with him, he gets to share what he loves. A win-win for everyone involved, but especially for you when Yoongi is horny and agitated.

“Mm, come on, baby,” Yoongi husks, wicking away the mascara clinging to the swell of your cheek with a rough thumb, “I know you can take me all the way. Now, stop playing, and relax your throat.”

Burning eyes fluttering open, you take in the blurry upside-down view that greets you through clumpy lashes; a sea of dark wood, the pale stretch of his legs, the pool of black basketball shorts puddled around his ankles.

Propped up as you are, head dangling over the thin leather armrest of the couch, you can't get a good angle without giving yourself a crick. Little spasms are already shooting through your neck, and down in between your shoulders because of the lack of proper support.

Something you'll definitely be paying for later.

But you're not about to stop Yoongi.

Not when he has you laid out on your back with his cock in your mouth, both of you working towards stuffing it down your throat. Even if your lips are fucked raw and swollen, your chin slick with spit and pre-cum.

Your tongue stretches out to flick over the fat head of his cock when he slides free with a sticky pop. “Fuck yeah, just like that.”

You hum low in the back of your throat, threads of arousal shivering down your spine as your belly swoops at the low rumble of his voice, the delicate trace of his fingers along the sides of your neck.

He grunts when you dig the tip of your tongue into his weeping slit, lapping and swirling around the spongy crown.

“Heh, you’re such a filthy bitch for me, aren’t you,” Yoongi says, his voice breathless and cracking around the edges. “Now, are you ready to be a good girl and swallow my dick?”

Inhaling deep, you let your breath shudder from you on a shaky moan that teases the insides of his thighs, the base of his cock, “Yes, please. Want it, Yoongs.”

Yoongi hums, satisfied.

“Watch those teeth,” is the only warning you get.

Then he's cradling your jaw with his thumbs and nudging his hips forward to grind against your lips. Eyes sliding shut, you drop your mouth open into a relaxed circle for Yoongi to fuck into.

The initial slide is smooth, aided by the strings of spit and pre-cum clinging to the lower half of your face. Though trouble begins the deeper Yoongi presses towards the back of your throat.

Your muscles tense as your mouth spreads wider and wider to accommodate his girth. An ache settles deep in your temples, little shocks of discomfort shooting down through the hinges of your jaw.

Tears leak past your clenched eyes, the renewed burn of mascara stinging your ducts as your sinuses clog. You whine - a raspy, muffled sound as your tongue wriggles along the underside of his shaft.

He hushes you, and anchors a hand on your shoulder as the other reaches down to twine with your fingers digging into his thigh. “Doing so good for me,” Yoongi said, “fucking perfect, baby.”

Your pussy clenches, your legs tensing against the leather. Sweat gathers behind your knees, your hips shivering with the need to twist, shift, and find a modicum of friction that’ll relieve the ache building behind your navel.

“Yeah, come on, that’s it. Just a little - shit - hah, that - oh fuck!”

His hips jerk forward as you hollow your cheeks to the best of your ability, hissing as teeth scrape along the sides of his shaft as he bullies his way deeper.

And then, with a pop richoetting down your spine, the head of his cock passes the back of your throat.

“Oh, baby,” Yoongi curses, his frame wracked with tremors.

His thighs shudder against your ears, his hips tense with anticipation as he holds himself still. Your throat rebels, rippling like a vice around his shaft, milking him for all he’s worth.

“Feel’s so - feels so good. You take me so well, knew you could. You always do.”

Gagging, your head goes light and floaty at the sudden lack of oxygen, tiny cavities peppering your vision.

Then you focus on breathing through your nose.

In - one, two, three. Out - one, two, three.

Over and over again until the mounting animal panic subsides, and you're left with tingling limbs and a throbbing cunt.

Yoongi groans, “Fuck, that’s so hot.”

Thumbs bracketing the sides of your neck stroke over the visible bulge of his shaft straining against the chain of your necklace, the delicate ‘Y’ charm branding your skin.

It'll leave a welt everyone can see. A little mark to stake his claim. To remember him by when you're separated.

The thought gets you hotter than you care to admit.

“Can see myself in your throat, baby.”

At the praise, liquid fire pulses through your veins, and warmth blooms in your belly. Settling between your hips until your clit twitches.

Slick soaks through the seat of your panties, and you feel all at once so full, and so, so empty.

The scent of his skin - clean and clear. The musk of his cologne - earthy and masculine. The salt of him heavy on your tongue, his cock throbbing in time with his thundering heartbeat as you swallow around him reflexively.

It's enough to send you reeling with the desperation, the desire to feel him cum down your throat, to taste his pleasure.

Half feral, you try bobbing your head, fingers hooking around Yoongi’s hips to drag him into the cradle of your face deeper, faster, harder.

Only to be met with resistance as he refuses to move, to give in to the frantic movements.

Standing stock still, he lets you tug and whine and writhe until your efforts fizzle to nothing.

And only then does he respond, bending over your body to slide a hand between your thighs.

You jerk, hiccup at the feeling of his fingers inching past the soaked hem of your panties. Brushing over the silken folds of your cunt, teasing, testing the slick arousal with his knuckles.

“Oh no, baby,” Yoongi says, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through his chest into yours, “You gotta beg me first.”

[henneseyhoe]

Devotion.

Lewis Hamilton x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: DARK THEMES, cult behavior, cult leader!Lewis, Idolizing, blasphemy(kinda?? idk girl), mentions of religion(no specifics), SMUT, unprotected (wrap it before ya smack it), mind broken reader, stockholm syndrome (not written in but kinda implied), breeding k*nk, short.

SUMMARY: Lewis chooses you.

✮✮✮✮

Was he really as sadistic as the papers said? How could he be when he was so sweet to me?

He nursed me back to health when iIl, when I was at my lowest, he lifted me in spirit. He gave me hope when I had none. He gave me something to believe in. He would never hurt me, he wouldn’t violently touch a hair on my head. He was consistently perfect. He was what all men should have been.

Dressed in black gowns, all of my sisters stood around with roses propped in their hands, veils on their heads and envy in their eyes. I’ve been there before. Envious of any woman that was next to him. Now I no longer remember what that felt like.

“You may kiss the bride”

I heard from beside me. My heart instantly swoll ten times it’s size. He took me by the hand and brought me closer to him before lifting the white veil over my head. His hand grazed my cheek and his lips hovered over mine. I could physically feel his breath over me. It confirmed that he was indeed real. He wasn’t just a vessel or embodiment of the purest form of a prophet, he was now also my partner. I was one step closer to heaven.

Hours later after dragged out sessions of meditation and eating food served on fine china, I found myself finally feeling solace.

I use to deeply craved to be with him at all times, not just to be in the same room to read or pray. Now he was touching me. Breathing the same air as me, taking my breath away with each stroke of his fingers. He told me he was getting me ready, his lips hovering above mine. He breathed in every sigh I made and the thought of my oxygen entering his lungs made me grateful.

He told me he would break me before making me whole again. He reminded me the entire time that this was just the beginning before I truly became the woman I was always supposed to be. His.

Yes, I was one of the many women, but I was the one. He told me.

“My beautiful, beautiful girl”

I kneeled before him, him only on one knee like when he proposed. A puddle of my own release was beneath me with his fingers still deep inside, pressing against the spongy part of my walls until I came again, my body slumping against his. My mouth had been wide open, unable to close for longer than a few seconds before another moan was exiting. Drool dripped from the sides of my mouth and he easily wiped it clean with his tongue like nothing, tasting the wine he offered earlier on me.

I was like that for what felt like hours until he allowed me to taste him. My mouth had never been on him like this before, before I couldn’t remember if he had ever touched me at all.

My jaw ached and my throat was sore, but he kept pushing and I took it just for the approval. I hear quiet sighs, moans that were almost whimpers above me, him looking down at the sight. His eyes were darker than before, pink lips parted to whisper out my name every time i’d take him completely, not coming up until I physically gagged and was forced to pull back.

When I disconnected from him there were strings of my spit still attached to him and he took the liberty to tap the tip of himself against my swollen lips, watching me flinch with the first few pops.

We transitioned for the third time that night and I began to wonder if the other women got the same treatment. He couldn’t be this great for all of them, I had to be special.

“You’re doing so good”

He breathed into my neck, arms wrapped around the front of my body as he rutted his hips into me. It felt as if I was on my knees all night, and I was tired, but he told me if I prayed with him on my knees, then everything else sacred needed to be done that way too.

His hand squeezed at the front of my throat and his other caressed up and down the side of my ribcage, tracing the tattoo of his name written into my skin with his fingers. I had his name symbols of him on multiple parts of my body, each place he had kissed tonight.

“You listen so much better than any of the other ones. That’s why I picked you. That’s why you’re my favorite”

He confessed into my ear, sharp teeth grazing the shell of it before they pressed onto the skin of my neck, his thrusts becoming more erratic.

I could feel the knocking of his tip inside of my stomach somehow, the spasms of my walls supplying him with just the amount of grip he needed to finish, the grip he claimed to have been thinking of since laying eyes on me.

My breathing hitched, then sped up and synched to each pound, pathetic whines leaving my mouth on impact. Every sensation felt so much more real now, I could feel everything. The wet skin of his chest pressed firmly against my back, the slapping of his hips against my ass which I was sure was slightly bruised by now, the scratching of his low cut nails against my curves.

Even if he broke skin, I knew not to fret. He’d lick me up again if I asked.

He lets me go and allows my weak body to fall flat on his bed, his hips still never stuttering as he follows after me, dipping his hips low while simultaneously lifting mine to meet him pound for pound.

My time was now. Now was the moment for me to prove that I was truly his, that I was ready to be saved for the rest of my mortal life, that I was in fact the best partner and the most devoted. That’s what he needed, what he deserved. Devotion.

With each question he managed to ask while somehow keeping his pace, I nod with no hesitation whatsoever as his hand slips down under and in between my wet thighs to rub at my sensitive bud, my body jerking so intensely that he slipped out of me mid stroke and his free hand wasted no time to help put himself back in and build up his momentum again.

“Would you give me a child, darling? Would you like to play a part in what greatness is to come?”

He already had babies. 10 of them and counting. But he asked me to carry the one he chose, and I was no one to tell him no and starve his desire.

✮✮✮✮

💌~ did yall like it? yes, no? 🥴 also i know yall TIRED of the short fics 😭 sorryyy lmfao

[hyukakisses]

- emo pervy loser beomgyu as your bestfriend to boyfriend!

parings: beomgyu x fem reader

plot: loser beomgyu, bestfriends to lovers troupe, sweet crybaby reader but still a loser unfortunately, beomgyu and reader like eachother but beomgyu likes reader more than reader likes beomgyu (as it should be for any relationship between a man and a woman), insecure reader who has low self esteem if you squint (very old & re edited post i had up on my old account)

warnings: beomgyu corrupts reader a bit, use of pet names, smut !! (reader n beomgyu receiving and giving), faint ddlg themes, comforting n reassuring beomgyu who loves reader, dom gyu & sub reader

beomgyu was ecstatic; he had recently gotten himself a purple skateboard and just couldn’t wait to show you. he desperately needed one ever since he broke his bicycle in two pieces which you still didn’t know why or how that happened but you really didn’t wanna ask much less know

beomgyu was headed to your house, ready to show you his newly prized possession but he needed to do something first. grabbing a box cutter; the obvious manic emo boy craved your initials onto the back of his skateboard leaving a ‘y/n<3’ on the lower left side it wasn’t that noticeable to where you would notice it but he knew exactly where to find that mark if he went to look

with a satisfied cheeky grin beomgyu marched to your house riding his skateboard before putting on his black over the ear headphones of course. blasting bulls in the bronx by pierce the veil, his favorite artists in his ears. making sure not to fall on his back again, imagining how much you’d cry when he’d come over with cuts on his fingers and face again

“beomgyu!” you let out a faint squeal, your face gleaming in excitement seeing your bestfriend, your only friend climb through your window for the nth time.

“hey baby” beomgyu mutters grinning back at you showing off his dimple. this action made you flush, you were thankful you weren’t pale otherwise beomgyu would never let you blushing at his words down.

another thing that you were hiding was your oh so little crush on your bestfriend beomgyu, completely oblivious to him reciprocating the same feelings. you being a total ditz though, you didn’t really catch onto beomgyu’s liking towards to you. you always just thought he was really sweet.

plus you also had really low self esteem so it was hard to accept that anyone could possibly like you especially someone as special and attractive as beomgyu.

you still couldn’t believe that beomgyu was considered a loser, he seemed way too cool and attractive to be one but after being his bestfriend for years you’d slowly realized why he was one

you’ve noticed beomgyu never really spoke to anyone unless it was to angrily mansplain about the lore behind a hyperfixation he had, or when it came to defending you since you often struggled with anxiety.

beomgyu also always carried an angry look on his face only letting his gaze soften for you of course; beomgyu really lacked common social skills and had anger issues. often smashing things around him but also managing to calm down and comfort you once he noticed he was scaring you

but still you refused to believe beomgyu actually liked you.. i mean it just didn’t make any sense to you he probably just liked being your bestfriend, maybe he thought of you as a little sister to protect.

even after that one sleepover where he went down on you for the first time you still didn’t think he could possibly ever like you

“b-beomgyu?” you’d squeak in fear as you sensed your baby pink pajama short shorts being taken off of you as you tried to watch blue spring ride with the aforementioned male but automatically failed due to sleep taking over your body

“shhh it’s just me baby relax just let me taste my sweet girl you trust me right?” you hear beomgyu coo at you, this action calming you down and you nod your head. his bandaged covered fingertips from his skate boarding trick fails move from holding your face for your comfort to teasing the soft skin of your inner thighs but you couldn’t lie you enjoyed every minute of whatever was going on

your breath hitches, letting out high pitched whimpers clinging onto your teddy bear beomgyu gifted you for your birthday last year. as you helplessly watched the older male through glassy desperate lap at your pussy as if your were his last meal. the only thing that could be heard were your cries of over stimulation due to your climax and faint slurping sounds coming from beomgyu’s mouth

“b-beomgyu..” you’d only whine sensing the same burning sensation growing at the pit of your stomach while beomgyu continued to lap his tongue in and out of your gummy walls more aggressively when the emo boy felt you close up on his tongue

you felt beomgyu snicker against your clit as he looks up at you a faint smirk on his lips; “what is it babydoll? you wanna cum already? gonna cum on my tongue again?”

you two never really spoke much of about that night, seeing how every time beomgyu tried bringing it up you’d start to cry out of embarrassment not really liking beomgyu’s teasing since you were very sensitive and just a big crybaby if we’re being quite frank

however as time went on by since that sleepover let’s just say you and beomgyu were getting closer and a bit more comfortable with eachother

“like this?” you’d tilt your head staring up at your bestfriend through your pretty lashes gently latching your plump lips around the cock in your mouth, attempting to suck beomgyu off not really knowing how to since you never really exactly given head to anyone before

“yes- fuck c’mere” beomgyu lets out a husky grunt, wanting to take control not feeling patient enough to guide you through sucking him off he gently started to move your head back and forth on his length

“gonna be a good little girl and let me fuck your mouth right?” beomgyu hissed at your soft gurgles as you nod rapidly drinking in the sight of the boy towering over you occasionally letting out soft whimpers and praises

“beomgyu?” you’d call out to your bestfriend watching as beomgyu paints his nails jet black; “yes princess? what is it?” he’s not looking at you instead he’s blowing air on his nails but you knew he was paying attention to you

you felt tears forming in your eyes, your hands trembling as you felt your heart race against your chest. “d-do.. do you like me? and i don’t mean like just as bestfriends i mean like do you like me enough to be my boyfriend?” you were on the verge of a panic attack at the mere thought of beomgyu’s rejection

beomgyu can hear the panic in your voice, shooting his head up in worry already knowing what to do to calm you down. “c’mere” the oreo haired boy cradles you onto his lap laying your head on his chest as he rubbed circles on your lower back shushing your cries. whispering in your ears ‘shh it’s okay don’t cry im right here’

“i don’t like you i love you you hear me? i love everything about you, your crybaby tendencies and your pretty face. it would be a dream come true to be your boyfriend if you let me” beomgyu reassured you making you sniffle with a smile followed by a ‘i love you too beomgyu! and i really want you to be my boyfriend!’

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Three. Four. Five. || Toxic!Husband!Price

For @glitterypirateduck's “O, Captain!” writing challenge! I used prompts:

30. "I hate you but if anything happened to you I'd burn the world" vibe.;

42. The story spans over a period of 10 or more years;

78. Give us a "That's my Wife!" moment.

Rating: E Words: 3.3K cw: toxic couple, VERY toxic, insults, death wishes, smut fade to black, pregnancy. Tags: f!reader, you/your pronouns but no Y/N, miilitary/court martial inaccuracies, very bad family dynamics?, dark humour??. Summary: John and Reader are in the worst fucking marriage ever. A collection of moments, dialogues and scenes from their terrible relationship. a/n: They are SO fucking toxic and dumb, I cannot- This is also very different from the stuff I usually write. This is ALSO not particularly angsty, more so dark humour.

There was a time when you loved John Price.

With all your heart, all your soul (and all your pussy).

That time was when you were young.

Ages 14 to 21, you loved him. He was your first kiss, your first time. High school sweethearts, you supported him through the academy, he supported you when you went to university. 

You stayed together through his first and second deployments. It was like an old-timey WW2 romance. 

So many letters exchanged back and forth. All lovey-dovey, with faint pen ink and smudged blotches on the pages as you made plans for the future.

Phone calls with spotty service and loads of static, only five minutes per soldier, 5 minutes which he’d spend only ever spend talking to you, asking you to relay any other messages to his mum, dad, siblings so he wouldn’t have to hang up with you. 

Polaroids clipped on the inside of envelopes which he would then slip into the breast pocket of his shirt, keeping you over his heart… one he’d often pull out and look at during transpo, thumbs tracing your eternal smile.

Polaroids of yours, a bit more risqué, which he would keep tucked into a journal under his pillow, for his eyes only.

John would walk around overseas with a smile on his lips after getting a letter or a call from you, brag to his teammates about his “bird back home”, never going out to bars to find one night stands like they did…

But sometime after his second deployment and joining the SAS, the puppy love that had lasted for years started to dwindle. 

Slowly but surely, you found that you were both growing distant.

You assumed you were both growing a bit ‘comfortable’, perhaps complacent… like all relationships tend to get after a while. 

By that time, John and you had already moved in together and you were no longer consistently alone for months at a time waiting for him to return from deployment. You blamed it on that. Plus, you’d been together for years by then!

But it felt different. There was distance, emotional and physical. Whenever he cuddled up to you, you felt cold and so did he. The kisses to your forehead were meaningless, the dinners at home eerily silent.

And between the distance and the inability to make proper plans, proper dates, celebrate milestones together, forgotten anniversaries, overlooked birthdays… It turned into arguments. 

And one argument turned to three, to five, to seven… hundred.

You found yourself growing bitter, angry, hateful.

It wasn’t a sudden shift or anything.

Not like you woke up one day and the one thought in your head was “I hate him”...

But you remember hating him longer than you ever loved him.

You tried breaking up. And failed. 

Some… bastardised feeling of guilt came to the forefront of both your minds at the idea of throwing away 5 6 7 8 9 10 years together, and giving up on your first love… and maybe even fear of having to start anew with someone else.

So, you simply continued going through the motions. You got engaged, big shiny rock on your finger, all big smile, but no tears came when he proposed. Your families were ecstatic, not quite able to see through the thinly veiled deceit.

For the wedding, you pulled out all the stops, stressed yourself out preparing the ceremony and reception with the women in your family (and his! His mother and sister were so happy that John was getting married!), going wedding dress shopping…

You had a beautiful ceremony, John wearing his full dress suit, army green, with the beige SAS beret. You were both 27, and together for 13 years.

Then, came the honeymoon, which was cut short. Not that it was a true honeymoon. Just three days in a coastal town in Northern France, having to be within a day's drive of Hereford lest he get called out for a sudden mission, which he was.

Not that you expected any different from him. So the distance continued growing, as did the arguments.

You hated him. He hated you.

Then came the predictable “So, when can we expect some grandkids?”. You put it off for a couple more years, blaming it on your high-priority careers, the law and the military, so similar and so different; his lack of time at home and how regrettable it’d be for you to be alone through the pregnancy; the want to be ‘more present’ for the future kids, needing to wait for things to settle down a bit more…

You’d been together for so long at that point, 15 years under your belt, starkly aware that neither of you is going anywhere. The world keeps spinning and your relationship hasn't ended. Fuck it, might as well go for it.

And now here you are.

It’s been eighteen years since you met. Aged 32, you no longer have arguments, you have throwdowns. You pull out every weapon in your arsenal. Neither of you plays nice.

Insults are traded often. Death wishes even more so. And, more often than not, they’re delivered with such a deadpan nonchalance that you’re sure people would think you both psychopaths.

“Going on a mission. ‘ll be back in a few days.”

“‘Kay, hope you die.”

“So do I.”

-

“Just had a fender bender with a stupid bloke. The car’s at the shop. Taking an uber to the base to get your car.”

“Okay. Shame you didn’t die a fiery death.”

“Don’t remind me, already cried about it.”

-

"I'm getting discharged."

"Why?"

"Shot."

"And it couldn't have killed you?"

-

“Can you get out of the damn toilet? I’m bleeding.”

“Period, accident, or just part of your satanic rituals?”

“Period.”

“Tough luck. Hope you bleed out.”

It never gets physical, never violent. John would rather die than lay a hand on you and you’d never DARE lay one on him. It’s just a lot of yelling, a lot of insulting, a lot of throwing things around, and, especially, a lot of revenge plans being executed to drive each other crazy.

Like recently. You found out John had gotten a grey-haired wig about the same length and texture as your hair, and has been snipping off a few hairs at a time, planting them around the house to blame you for leaving your hair everywhere, while simultaneously making you feel like you’re going grey. So, you put grey hair box dye in his shampoo and beard oil, to make him think he’s going grey.

Or three months ago, when you replaced all your lightbulbs with dimmer ones and lowered the brightness on all electronics, to make him think his eyesight was starting to go bad. You drove him so mad that he had voluntarily signed up for sniper assessments because he was worried he’d become a liability for the team.

Or eight months ago, when John had to return home in the middle of the day wearing a ruined uniform and just about ready to blow smoke out of his ears, having ripped holes in the uniform midway through a meeting all because 2 or so weeks prior you had painstakingly undone part of the stitching on it after an argument, and that had resulted in him baring his hairy thighs and armpits to a boardroom full of officers.

It’s bad. Very bad. You’ve had your windows and doors insulated to make sure the neighbors don’t hear your screaming matches and call the cops on the “domestic violence” happening next door. 

You probably shouldn’t have kids with this man. And yet-

He drives you insane.

And you’ve TRIED to fix it! You did. Marriage counseling, rage rooms, axe-throwing, paintball matches, yoga, meditation.… Nothing worked! In fact, it only infuriated you more because:

“You’ve got a tactical advantage, you need to play with a handicap!”

“Tough luck, sweetheart. Get good or get shot!”.

-

“You can throw harder than that.”

“Oh, I’ll show ya throwing hard, you gobshite!”

“Okay, when are you planning to start?”

-

“My back hurts-”

“Because you’re getting old.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m just telling you the truth. Face it, John, if the downward dog hurts your back, then you’re old.”

-

“Can you breathe any louder?”

“Yes, I can. Wanna see?”

“Just shut up. I can’t hear myself think.”

“Not much to hear either way, pretty hollow in there.”

“I hate you.”

“Feeling’s mutual, sweetness.”

There are only three occasions when you’re not actively at each other’s throats. Other, then, of course, when John’s working, especially when he’s overseas. You can’t fight if he’s both a) not home and b) unreachable via calls or texts or e-mails.

When you need a favor from the other, something you can’t quite do, or that falls in the other’s ‘jurisdiction’ in house chores.

“The washing machine’s leaking.”

“Turn off the water main, I’ll go check in a sec.”

“Mkay.”

-

“Here. Popped a button.”

“I don’t have any more army green thread.”

“Then use brown or black or whatever.”

-

“Where are your car keys?”

“What for?”

“Going to get it washed and detailed.”

“My purse.”

-

“You’re not gonna wear that, are you?”

“Why?”

“Besides the fact that it’s wrinkly? That’s a ‘house’ shirt, not a ‘going out’ shirt. Wear this one instead.”

2. When you’re both complaining or dealing with an outside force, a 3rd party, together.

"Excuse me, hi, I'm sending this back it's not cooked the way I asked."

"Ma'am that's exactly what you-"

"Are you calling my wife a liar?"

-

“Oh, fuck no. Why the fuck is he winning the Great British Bake Off?"

"Hm? Oh- oh! Yeah, why the fuck is he winning?"

“Bloody hell, he rolled his pastry too thin and had watery pie filling-”

“Wankers. This is not fair.”

-

“John. John!”

“What?”

“Look-”

“Blood hell, he’s back early-”

“Yeah and her boytoy’s car still there. They’re definitely still going at it.”

“Oh, this is going to be fun.”

-

“Excuse me! Hey, excuse me! Pick up after your bloody dog! NO, don’t you start with me, you keep leaving your dog’s shite right by our garden, don’t you see the sign my husband’s posted up?! Pick it up or I’ll do it and then drop it in your garden.”

3. During sex.

Marching into the bedroom after breakfast, you find John combing through his hair in the bathroom mirror. The room is steamy from the hot shower he just took. 

“Take your trousers off. I’m ovulating.” You warn him as you wave your phone in the air, showing off the period tracking app.

“I literally just showered.” John replies as you’re already shrugging off your robe and pajamas.

“Well, believe or not, I don’t control my ovaries, John.” You reply. “Now take your trousers off.”

“Already on it.” He replies as he already starts taking off his shirt and sweatpants, leaving them on a pile on the floor, before his boxer briefs follow suit.

His hand palms his cock as you’re getting comfortable on the bed, tugging on it lightly as he watches your fingers do the same between your legs. 

“Can we try to enjoy it this time?” He asks you in earnest.

“Sure.” You reply simply. “Been a while since we’ve had proper sex and not…”

“Not a breeding session?” He quips as he kneels on the bed between your parted thighs. His hand replaces yours and he starts rubbing your clit for you.

“Shut it…” You quip, while your own hand wraps around his cock, stroking it slowly. John lowers himself onto you and his lips slowly brush against yours before he kisses you.

No, as it turns out… There are actually four occasions when you’re not actively at each other’s throats:

4. The Kid

In a day like any other, you’re lying in bed, reading a book. It’s a lazy Sunday morning, your big, round belly feeling particularly heavy. You’ve stolen every other pillow in the house to try and find some comfort, which you fail remarkably at.

“I think I’m going grey.” John states to no one in particular.

He’s in the en-suite bathroom, applying beard oil across his mutton chops like he tends to do, about three times a week.

“You are.” You remark in a bored, dismissive tone as you read a book in bed.

“That’s not funny. I’m not that old.”

“You’re getting up there.”

“Look who’s talking, we’re the same age.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Jonathan?”

“It means you’re there yourself, darling.”

Raising your eyes from the book in your hands, the bottom of which rests atop your pregnant belly, you cock a brow at your ‘beloved’ husband.

“And this is coming from Santa Claus?” You retort swiftly.

John peeks his head out of the bathroom door to look at you. “You think you’ve got a leg to stand on, you crone?”

Grunting under your breath, you glare at him, and he glares at you, complete silence in the bedroom. 

There’s something in that face of his, the look in his eyes, those STUPID fucking mutton chops that you’ve told him to shave and he refuses…

Grabbing your book and rolling it into a cylinder, you hurl it at him, putting as much force behind your arm as you possibly can. It misses the mark, but only because he had the presence of mind to duck. 

“You’re such a fuckin’ knobhead!” You insult him, tongue dripping with bitterness.

“Wel, not like I can be anything else, really, when I’m married to such a raging cunt.” He retorts.

“OH FUCK YOU!” You retort.

“ALREADY AM MORE THAN FUCKED, SPENDING THE REST OF MY LIFE WITH YOU.”

“OH, PLEASE, YOU’RE MORE MARRIED TO YOUR BLOODY GUN THAN YOU ARE TO ME!”

“YEAH CAUSE AT LEAST MY GUN DOESN’T DRIVE ME FUCKING MENTAL!”

“OH PISS OFF!” You shout, your face twisting with a scowl.

“You know, you really shouldn’t be stressing yourself out like this. It’s not good for your blood pressure. Or for John Junior.”

“First of all, it’s not gonna be a boy. Secondly, even if it is a boy, we’re not naming him after you. And thirdly, how about you die, then I won’t get stressed.”

“And why would I do that, when I can stay right here, perfectly alive and healthy, and watch you give birth to John Junior, and have the pleasure of rubbing a ‘I told you so’ right in your face?”

“Oh fuck you. It’s not going to happen.” You sulk and cross your arms over your chest, leaning back against your mountain of pillows.

“Someone doesn’t like the idea of having a son that takes after me, hm??” John teases as he comes up to the bed, a brow cocked.

You trail him with your eyes as he sits next to you on the bed. “Absolutely not. I wanna have a child I actually am able to love, and not one that I have to lie to.”

“A mother’s love knows no bounds, huh? What a load of crap.” John quips.

“Oh, that’s 100% true. I love this baby to bits already, but if it takes after you… I’ll probably die.”

“Good.” John remarks, causing you to roll your eyss. “Much better than if our child takes after you. Spawn of Satan, he would be.” John’s hand slides up your leg and slowly cups your swollen stomach.

“I should probably address the fact you just called our child ‘Satan’s spawn’, but I’m more concerned over the fact you keep calling the baby a ‘son’.” You murmur as you uncross your arms and watch him caress your skin.

“I feel like it’s a boy, I don’t know what to tell you.” He replies as his calloused fingers drag over the stretch marks and linea nigra on your stomach.

“What if it’s a girl?”

“What about it?”

“I’ve seen enough men online getting pissy over havin’ a daughter.” You quip and cock a brow up, looking him in the eyes.

John’s eyes lock onto yours. “Not me.” Then they return to the belly as he continues rubbing you. “Would love a little girl too.”

“Hm.” You remark and slowly, your hand rubs over the belly on the opposite side, where John’s hand isn’t. “We’ve gotta promise not to yell or argue in front of the baby.”

“Kind of hard to do that when I’m married to the Devil.” John quips, causing you to look up at him, eyes narrowed.

“You’ve gotta promise. We’ve gotta promise.” You murmur as you look at him.

For a moment, his usually grumpy face softens and he nods. “I promise.”

Nodding as well, you echo the sentiment. “I promise.”

No, wait, five:

5. When you have his back.

“General, that is not what I asked you. I would ask that you stop beating around the bush, feeding me, the jury, and the people watching at home, fabricated information and embellished words in a sorry attempt to save your credibility. Stick to the questions being asked and stop wasting our times.” You warned the man as you paced the space in front of the stand.

“Me and everyone else in this room are looking for nothing but the truth, or must I remind you that you are under oath and also live on television?” You ask outloud as you turn to look at him.

“No, counselor.” The General, a heavy-set, older, mustachioed man replies, through gritted teeth, his face showing a polite expression while the man himself was seething on the inside.

“Very well, then, I’ll repeat the question. Were you or were you not aware of the aforementioned, unsactioned operations being conducted in the Al-Mazarah and Urzikstan border, involving CIA and MI6 operatives?” You asked, eyes glaring into the man’s eyes as you leaned into the stand near him.

“Well, as with most operations...”

“A yes or no is enough, General.” You told him sternly.

“Yes.” The man grits out.

“And did you, or did you not, give permission for these CIA and MI6 operatives, working under the guise of NATO, and I quote, from the transcript: “Authority to use any means necessary” on the enemy forces?” You confronted him.

“Well-”

“Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“And did you do that while being aware that the teams involved would interpret such command as permission to execute an operation in which they’d use ‘extreme physical persuasion’ or, in other words, torture to achieve their goals?”

“I-”

“Did you or did you not, General?”

“Yes, but-”

“And did you, or did you not, not only demand the censoring of the clear and transparent reports received in the aftermath of that operation but also sign off on them yourself, to circumvent the proper channels of evaluation, which would force an internal audit to be conducted?”

“Yes-”

“So, in short, you just confirmed that you authorized your troops to, essentially, wipe their asses with the Geneva convention and comit war crimes on the POWs under their care?”

“Counselor-” One of the judges called out.

“Withdrawn. No further questions, Mr. Chairman.” You told the Chairman and the jury panel that sat above you, as you swiftly turned around and marched up to your table, high heels clacking on the polished floors of the court room.

Your eyes locked onto John’s as he sat in the back of the room, wearing his full regalia, his eyes locked onto yours with a strange shine to them… Almost like he’s proud of you.

As soon as you sit on the chair and the Chairman once again takes over, addressing the room, the General, calling other witnesses, your phone’s screen lights up on the chair next to you.

Picking it up quietly, you spot a message of John’s:

John: that’s my girl. knew you could do it. you: you owe me big time. John: i do. saved my arse there. you: of course. it’s what I’m here for.  John: almost making it sound like you love me. you: no but I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. you: no way in hell you’re leaving me alone with 3 children. John: i see. selfish woman. you: shut up.  you: and try not torturing POWs next time. John: yes, ma’am.

Five occasions seem to be enough to keep a 23-year marriage afloat.

a/n: Big thanks to my beloved @crashtestbunny for helping draft/plot all these interactiions and just the general toxicity! And also @mothymunson your beloved Toxic!Price is here!

[ O, Captain! Masterlist ] || [ My Masterlist ]

[zxvmp]

Cracked (Stoner!Dabi x Nerd!Fem Reader)

tags: Smut, highschool AU!, there’s no quirks, dabi doesn’t have burn marks, dabi has an eyebrow piercing, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, marking, rough sex, degradation, smoking, peer pressure(?)

summary: you get assigned to tutor the senior stoner. going to his house for a study session escalated to something more.

You weren’t stoked for tutoring Dabi. Sure, you loved to help people study, but when it came to people like him, you found it difficult. He was failing practically every class and the only senior in Physical Science A. You were amazed he was still even allowed to attend the school.

When you were told you had to tutor him, you almost ended it all in that exact moment. You, a straight A student, top of all your classes, tutoring him, a failure.

“No disrespect, sir, but why me?” You asked your principal, attitude in your tone.

Dabi scoffed and slouched into his chair next to you. The principal eyed you both before letting out a sigh.

“Miss (Y/N), I know this task may seem…” He paused and stared at Dabi who grinned and gave a small wave, “Difficult…. but he could really use the help.”

You side eyed Dabi before pouting, “Fine.”

~

After your meeting in the principals office, you and Dabi exchanged numbers. You set up a study date at his house directly after school, and he surprisingly agreed without complaints. He even offered to drive you after school since you normally took the bus. You were a bit hesitant a first, but you took him up on his offer.

Once the final school bell rang, you waited at the doors to the student parking lot. Multiple students left and the cars in the parking lot dwindled down. You began to wonder if Dabi lied and ditched you.

Just as you were about to press his contact to call him, he turned the corner of the hallway.

“Took you long enough!” You cross your arms and leaned your weight onto your right leg.

He smirked, “My apologies, your highness.”

You rolled your eyes and followed him out of the school. His car was parked at the end of the lot. It was an all-black hellcat. You almost forgot he came from a rich family. His brother was a very smart student, almost on your level. However, he had three more years ahead of him to reach yours.

The moment you opened the passenger door, the scent of weed entered your nostrils, causing your nose to scrunch up. Dabi noticed your facial expression and chuckled as he hopped into the drivers seat.

“Seriously?” You peaked your head into the car and raised an eyebrow at him.

His right hand was already on the steering wheel, ready to drive. “Um, yeah? Get in.”

A groan escaped your mouth as you tossed your backpack onto the floor of the car before plopping down onto the leather seat. Before he backed out of his parking space, he pulled out a vape and took a long hit. You stared at the device and read: “Blue Rasperry, Breeze Pro.”

His eyes met yours and noticed what you were looking at, “Wanna hit it?”

“Are you crazy? No.”

Dabi snickered as he placed his hand on the back of your headrest, twisting his body to look in the back window, “Figured.”

You peaked over at him as he backed out of the parking space. His black T-shirt slightly lifted, causing his lower abdomen to show. Your eyes immediately darted to his prominent V-line.

Dabi caught you looking as he returned to his sitting position and smirked. You rasied eyebrows and averted your eyes away from him to act like you weren’t caught.

The drive to his place was quiet. Neither of you spoke a word to each other. Only occasional glances. His music taste was much different from yours. Though, you did know some of the artists he played: Lucki, Pierce the Veil, and Chase Atlantic.

When you arrived at his place, you picked up on the fact that he had his own apartment. It made you wonder why he moved out so early. It’s not like you were in college yet, and it was only the second trimester. However, you kept your questions to yourself.

His place smelled like weed and air fresheners. At least he tried to mask the scent.

You slid off your uggs at the doorsteps and followed him towards the kitchen. Not knowing where to go, you nervously held your backpack and waited for him to say something.

Dabi noticed you looked lost and pointed towards the large couch in the living room, “You can set up, or whatever, in there.”

You nodded and did as he said. You placed your laptop on the coffee table and set out pens and pencils along with some notebooks.

Dabi was busy searching the refrigerator for food while you patiently waited.

His apartment was neat for the most part. There was a large TV that gang over a fire place with blue flames. You found the blue flames fun to look at.

“You want pizza?”

You perked up at his voice and turned to look at him. He was leaned against his counter, facing you with his phone in hand and a lit joint in the other.

“Um, sure.”

He nodded and brought the joint to his lips. You turned away and began to scroll through your phone as you waited for him to finish ordering. Once he was done, he took a spot next to you on the couch with two water bottles and an ash tray.

You eyed his joint, “Do you really have to smoke right now?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “Helps me focus.”

His words made you curious. Did weed really do that? You thought it made you freak out.

Dabi could read the curiosity on your face. He held out the joint for you to take it, nodding his head slightly for you to hit it.

You shook your head, “I don’t smoke.”

He frowned and left his hand out, “Oh c’mon, one hit won’t hurt.”

You hummed and stared down at his hand. Would one hit really hurt? You were honestly considering it.

“Here,” Dabi took a long hit and scooted closer to you. You could smell his cologne and the weed much more. He raised his free hand and pointed at your mouth. You blushed, nervous at what he was indicating. However, you complied. You opened your mouth and watched as he exhaled the smoke into your mouth. “Take a deep breath.”

You followed his instruction. As soon as you did, you felt a slight sting in the back of your throat, but you didn’t cough.

Dabi hummed, “That’s funny. You took it a lot better than I expected.”

In your mind, you were stressing out. Why were you going along with what he said? Why did he look at you the way he did? And most importantly, why was he looking better than usual?

Dabi had attractive features, you knew that. You just didn’t care. You didn’t like his personality. He was a jerk, a loser, and he smoked. But, you couldn’t help but feel something towards him. You always have. That’s why you hated the fact you had to tutor him. You knew your feelings would increase.

“Um- So, what class do you wanna focus on today?”

He took a drag of the joint and squinted his eyes as he thought. Smoke trailed out of his nose as he softly exhaled. “Ask me later, I wanna finish this joint first.”

“Dabi-” You were cut off by him placing the joint in between your lips. Your eyes widened, but he calmed you down by giving you a reassuring lazy smile.

“Inhale.”

Once again, you followed his instruction. This time, there wasn’t a burning sensation. You took it a lot more smoother. It made you wonder yourself how you took it so well. As you pulled back, you maintained eye contact with him and exhaled softly. His half-lidded blue eyes peered into yours. It made you nervous.

Your study session somehow turned into a smoking session. Never in a million years would you think you’d be seated on Dabi’s couch smoking with him. Each time you tried to bring up the topic of studying, he’d blow you off and say ‘one more hit, then we can.’ Except that was 10 hits ago and the pizza he had ordered earlier was opened on the coffee table with two slices gone.

Dabi handed you a water bottle because he could tell from the look on your face you needed it. You’d never been high before. Everything was hitting you at once. Your vision was slowed and your body was much more sensitive than usual.

“How you feelin’, pretty?”

The joint was smooshed into the ash tray, finished by the two of you. You finished your water bottle and placed it on the coffee table.

“I… don’t know.” You giggle. “You sure this helps you focus?”

He nodded, “Always. Now, can you help me with this.” Dabi pulled out an old test he took in science. “My teacher told me he’d let me retake it Friday.”

You stared at his score, 10/45.

“Damn, that’s terrible.” You blurt out.

He choked back his laughter and looked at you. Your eyes were red and lowered. Your always neat hair was disheveled and you had a blush coating your cheeks. You were absolutely fried. He smirked at your broken form. He managed to crack the nerd.

You took notice that he had been staring at you and tried to recollect your thoughts, “Um, right, science.” You picked up his paper and stared at each question he got wrong. However, your mind couldn’t focus with his eyes scanning your body. You felt nervous under his gaze. “So, what don’t you understand?”

Dabi leaned in closer next to you and scanned the questions you had just looked at. You swallowed a thick lump in your throat from how close he was. Your thighs were touching and his arm was mere inches away from brushing up against yours. You admired his side profile as he looked at the paper you were holding up. His jawline was sharp, like his nose.

Dabi side eyed you, “Are you gonna help me, or keep staring?”

If you were sober, you’d know exactly how to answer his question. The fact was, you weren’t. You were high and somehow horny. Being near him wasn’t helping either. Anything he did made your body slightly twitch.

Your lips parted, but you couldn’t form a sentence.

The next thing that happened shocked the both of you. You dropped the paper and began to straddle him. His hands rested on the waist band of your leggings, while yours rested on his chest. Your heart was beating fast, and your chest was rising and falling rapidly.

He smirked at the state you were in, “What’s up with the sudden change of heart? Thought you wanted to study.”

“No, what I want now is…” You paused, unable to say the next word out of shame and embarrassment.

Dabis hand began to creep his hands underneath your crewneck that loosely rested on your shoulders. “…Is?”

You turned your head to the side and balled your hands up on his shirt.

He lowly chuckled as his hands stopped at the clip of your bra. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

Your bra was unclasped and shortly after, disregarded on the floor. Next was your crewneck. Inch by inch, Dabi lifted it up your body. Just as your breast began to appear, he stopped and looked at you. He had a smug smirk plaster on his lips, almost like he knew you’d end up like this.

“Well?”

You let go of any restraint telling you not to and leaned in to kiss him. It was a quick kiss. You pulled away ever so slightly to look at him in his eyes. All you could see was lust. In an instant, he crashed his lips onto yours roughly and fondled with your breast underneath your crewneck. You began to grind on his crotch in the process.

Finally, he got your crewneck off of you and tossed it on the floor. His mouth latched to your neck, littering it with his markings. While his mouth was busy on your neck, his hands were busy groping your boobs.

Soft mewls escaped your lips as you continued to grind against him. You could feel the bulge in his pants grow the louder your sounds were.

“You’re a freak, you know that?” Dabi muttered in between kisses.

You disregarded his words and reached down to take his shirt off. However, he stopped you and pulled away from your neck.

“Lay down.”

His tone was darker, more dominant. You followed orders and laid on your back with your head against the arm rest.

“So quick to follow orders,” Dabi chuckled, “just how desperate are you?”

You sigh, “Dabi-”

He hushed you. You formed a line with your lips and stayed silent. His eyes traveled down to your leggings, making your thighs press against each other. He smirked watching you squirm.

Your leggings and panties were ripped from you, tossed to the side. Now, you were completely bare underneath him. Dabi looked at each curve of your body, thinking of all the ways he could crack you even more. Just the thought of you going dumb on his cock made his dick twitch in his boxers.

The tension was thick. Dabis boner poked at his grey sweats, making your stomach do somersaults.

“Sorry, (Y/N), but I can’t wait any longer.” He began to rid himself of his pants and boxers, letting his cock spring free. “I’m sure you can take it though, right? I mean, you handled the weed well.”

You stared at his dick. It was big, thick too. A vein ran up from the base towards his tip. He kept his dick clean, which you liked. It wasn’t perfectly shaved, but it wasn’t extremely hairy either.

“C’mon, let me hear you say you can.”

You swallowed, “I- I can.”

He smirked and took off his shirt, tossing it to the side to join the rest of your clothes. “That’s my girl. Now, just lay there and look pretty for me, ‘mkay?”

You nodded.

His tip parted through your wet folds, gathering your slick to make it easy to slide in. Once his tip pressed into your tight hole, the two of you hissed. But that didn’t stop Dabi, he couldn’t stop. His hips bucked forward, shoving his length into you fully. You cried out, tears forming in your eyes from both pain and pleasure. He stretched you out, but at the same time made you feel so full.

“So fuckin’ tight..” He breathed out. “Relax, baby.”

Your tensed muscles calmed down, making it easier for him to move. Once he was able to complete a thrust, any sign of concern left Dabis body. You scratched at his back and moaned as his pace quickened. He gripped your hips so tight they were sure to leave bruises.

With each thrust he thrusted, the more it felt good.

“Fuck—Ah!” You gripped his forearms and tilted your head back.

Dabi was in love with the way your stomach bulged when his dick would move. With one hand, he pressed down on your stomach to feel himself moving in you. Your eyes widened and a broken cry came out of you mouth.

“You like that?” He laughed, “Man, you really are a slut. Underneath that nerdy persona, you’re just a freak aren’t you?”

Your eyes rolled back as his hips snapped upwards, making his dick hit deeper into you.

“Answer.”

“Yes! Fuck—yes.”

He hummed and continued to thrust into you at a brutal pace. You were on cloud nine, lost in pleasure. The weed in your system made the sex so much better. In addition, Dabi was constantly hitting your g-spot, which really made you go dumb.

Dabi shook your hands off him and hooked his arms underneath your thighs, putting you into a mating press. In this angle, he could reach even deeper.

You couldn’t form words anymore. Only, his name and moans came out your mouth.

“That’s right, keep on moaning my name pretty girl. Let me hear you scream.” His thumb began to rub harsh circles against your puffy clit, making you clench around his dick. You felt your stomach began to tighten.

The combination of his dick thrusting into you and the stimulation on your clit was beginning to become too much for you.

“Please, slow down. ‘S too much.” Your voice was high-pitched and whiney.

Dabi didn’t slow down, in fact, he picked up his pace. You were completely over the edge. Your orgasm took over your body without warning. Ringing began to form in your eyes and your vision blurred as you came on his cock.

You threw your head back and let out a final moan, clamping down on his member. Dabis thrusts began to stutter from how tight you became.

“Ah—fuck, don’t go giving out on me now. I know you have another one in you.” Dabi leaned down to your ear and continued to thrust into you, “Give me another, yeah?”

Even though his breath was warm, his words made your body shiver. You reluctantly nodded. You don’t even think you could stop him if you tried.

Your body was still recovering from your last orgasm, but Dabi paid no mind to that. He wanted to completely ruin you.

When he saw tears fall from your eyes, he knew he achieved his goal. You were hanging on by a mere string, clinging onto his forearms once more to help steady yourself.

Dabi was coming close to his high, and he so desperately didn’t want to leave your warm walls. His thrusts became erratic, his rhythm lost.

“Want it in me.” You mutter between moans. “Please.”

Your words broke something in him he didn’t think he had. It boosted him. With a final snap of his hips, he emptied his load into you. Filling you to the brim.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ perfect.”

Dabi collapsed beside you, his head cradled into your neck as he caught his breath. You closed your eyes and blacked out from being so tired.

The next time you opened your eyes, you were in his black T-Shirt and had a blanket draped over your body. Searching the room, you saw him in the kitchen in nothing but grey sweats. His dark hair was messy and you could see his muscles flex as he lifted a frying pan. When you saw a pancake flip, you shot upwards. Was it already the next day?

The noises of you shuffling on the couch caused him to look over. A smile formed on his face.

“Mornin’ princess.”

[ladykailitha]

The Hellfire Exotic Club Part 3

Just a head's up, I'll be moving this story's posting date to Fridays to give time to breathe instead of languishing under the wave of WIP Wednesday asks like it was last week

This week we get a taste of most of the other Sins and a tease at why Steve and Robin needed jobs ASAP. It's going to be sooo juicy guys. I can't wait for you guys to see that for real!

Part 1 Part 2

~

Moloch didn’t bring the numbers as much as the rest of Eddie and his friends did, but his Sloth liked it that way. He like the smaller crowds, the slow music, the hour long tantalizing reveal of one of the dancers who did strip all the way down.

But it was the gradual sensual removal of clothes as he got “lazier” in his dance. By the end, Moloch would draped dramatically over a settee, bumping and grinding first with his hand and then by the end of the last song, weakly thrusting against the air.

It was one of the hottest things Steve had ever seen. It really played up to the sloth aspect of it and he definitely had to rearrange himself more than once.

He knew that he would get over it eventually, seeing it every Monday for weeks, but that first time? Steve was pissed more people didn’t come out.

Even though Steve didn’t work the next day, Eddie suggested he come and watch Mammon, too. So he could see the different styles of strip that they had, to allay his fears a bit about how far the Sins were willing to go when it came to undressing for strangers.

So he showed up about an hour before show time to try out of some of the drinks and get a feel of the vibe.

Steve would say that of the dances he’d seen so far, Lust, Pride, and Sloth, Greed’s more fit the club’s original roots as a 1920s speakeasy. The place was decked out in old timey opulence. And gold. So much fucking gold.

Then the lights went out and he could hear the dancers scurrying to get into position. A single spot light lit up a singular dancer. He was broad shouldered and deep-chested, his curly hair slicked to his head. Which he raised when the music started. He was dressed smartly in a period accurate three-piece black suit with a red button down shirt.

Mammon’s movements were far more graceful than anything Steve had ever seen in any symphony or dance hall. He used his bulk to make his movements work with his body and not against it.

Then all through the night he didn’t get undressed so much as he pulled clothes off others. But without Steve realizing it, his clothes were coming off, but they were being...not replaced exactly, but the clothes he was taking off the other dancers were covering him a la the Dance of the Seven Veils.

Then in the last song, he throws the clothes in the air, leaving him in just his pants and suspenders. As the clothes flutter to the floor you realize that all the other dancers were naked, all around him, laying on the floor. The red pieces of silk landing on them like blood.

Fuck. Social commentary wrapped in the sexiest dance Steve had ever seen. He could see why the club was packed every Tuesday night. Mammon wasn’t a demon, he was a fucking god.

Eddie slid up next to him at the bar. “So what did you think?”

“I think that anytime someone tells me that big people can’t dance,” Steve said breathlessly, “that I will send them here on a Tuesday night.”

“Isn’t he amazing?” Eddie asked giddily. “Him, Jeff, and Gareth are all my mates from high school. We even had a band together before I started dancing for my Uncle Wayne. I brought them on when we first changed over to Hellfire.”

“I know you play guitar,” Steve said with a smile, “I didn’t realize the other guys did, too.”

Eddie licked his upper lip slowly. “Would you be surprised to know that so does Rosier?” he asked, leaning into Steve’s space like he was sharing a secret.

Steve thought about it for a moment and then shook his head. “Not really. He seems the type if I’m honest.”

“What about Moloch playing the drums?” Eddie asked, leaning even closer.

“Now that is surprising,” Steve said, “and at the same time makes sense now that you say it.”

Eddie threw his head back and laughed. “Yeah, I do too, now that I say it out loud like that.” He rubbed his chin. “Any guesses on what Mammon plays. Especially now that everyone else has been named and shamed.”

Steve laughed too. “What band would be complete without a kickass bassist.” Eddie blinked at him for a moment. “Unless he’s something weird like a keyboard, or violin or some shit like that.”

“Nope!” Eddie said, popping the ‘P’, “you had it right, I was just a little surprised as all. But, yes Mammon was our kickass bassist.”

“Have you guys thought about playing again?” Steve asked, leaning in. “Like here at the club. I know every night is themed, but Chrissy is already working on fairy tale themed night. So why not have a night where you guys play. Maybe even just as the music for whoever’s dancing that night or even just night of you guys rocking out.” He stopped for breath, wide-eyed at what he just said.

“That was certainly something else,” Eddie said a little stunned. He hadn’t really thought about it. Sure, he played the guitar as part of his tease, playing up into the pride aspect of it. Proud he could play and sing, proud of this club, proud of his ability to dance. But to play with his band again? A part of his dream he put back on the shelf when he was made owner? “What would we even play?”

Steve shrugged. He hadn’t thought that far. But he saw how wistful Eddie got when he talked about them being in a band. “What did you guys play before?”

“Mostly metal,” Eddie said, returning Steve’s shrug. “Some hard rock. A little grunge thrown in there for variety.”

“So perfect for the club then,” Steve replied with a smile.

Eddie blushed and shoved his hair in front of his face. “I’ll think about it.”

Steve bumped their shoulders together. They kept talking even after the club closed and the money was counted and divvied out by Rosier. Having decided to let Eddie and Steve continue talking. It wasn’t until the cleaners came in that they even realized that the club was close.

Eddie would harass his friend later about letting have the night off, but in that moment he was grateful for the respite.

He walked Steve to his car and waited for him to pull out of the parking lot before cursing up a blue streak. The guy hadn’t even been hired for a full week yet and already he was making cow eyes at him. Fuck, he was in so much trouble.

~

Steve’s impression of Lilith’s gluttony dance was that it was messy and outrageous, but somehow Chrissy made it work.

She wasn’t so much as dressed as she was covered in whip cream, with two cherries strategically placed over her nipples. She would lick and suck on her fingers covered in the stuff. Then she was dowsed in chocolate syrup as she writhed and slithered across the stage.

It was a sticky, gooey nightmare as far as Steve was concerned, but the way she stroked and touched herself as she was fed by the backup dancers. Then just as there wasn’t any way that she could possibly be fed anymore, a large bucket of water dumped it’s entire contents on Lilith as she moaned as if she had just orgasmed.

He was grateful that other Sins didn’t have to perform with her during her hour, because he didn’t think he could stand the thought of that stuff anywhere near his hair.

She did a great job, Steve wasn’t going to deny that. He could see the appeal, but the thought of getting sticky after all that? He shrugged off a shiver of disgust that ran down his back.

Once Robin and he had picked up their tips from the night, they walked out to the car.

“I take it back,” Robin huffed, yanking open the passenger side door, “We can’t work here, Steve. I thought I was going to combust when I saw the two of dancing like angels, but this was pure torture. I wanted to lick her.”

Steve cackled, sliding into the driver’s side and closing it tightly behind him. “Better you than me.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Robin said rolling her eyes as she slid into the car. When she was in and the door was close she said, “Gay!”

Steve snorted, “Lesbian.”

“Bitch.”

“Tease.”

“Slut.”

Steve put his hand over his heart and gasped. “How dare you imply I am anything but virtuous! I am the paragon of respectability! I am a tart!”

Robin cackled as Steve pulled into traffic.

“I’ve noticed you’ve looking disrespectfully, don’t think I haven’t.”

Steve shrugged but didn’t say anything.

“Oh come on there’s got to be someone revving those engines of yours,” Robin pressed. “So are we talking Lust, maybe a little Sloth...ooohhhh! I know, it’s Mammon that gets you going. You were there an awfully long time last night.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Look they’re all professionals who are very good at their jobs, and I while I might lust after all or none of them, I’m not going to fuck any of them because we need this job and I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize that.”

Robin sighed. “I know. You know I was joking about not being able to work there, right?”

Steve nodded, lips pursed together.

“You’re my hero,” she said softly. “I hope you know that.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped. “Of course I do. Let’s go home. I think we both need ice cream tonight.”

“You’ve got it babe.”

~

Steve hadn’t gotten to see Wrath even though he had been hired last Thursday because they had to do all the boring employment shit first and so his first show had been Lust. So he wasn’t sure what to expect. Wrath made sense as woman. After all the saying “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” was famous for a reason.

But for some reason, Steve had still pictured a man.

But Lamia was vengeance personified. Dressed in red silks with black painted scales to look like she was part snake. Her dark piercing eyes and long black braided hair with her dusky skin made for an exotic marvel. She was curvy but still athletic, soft but clearly defined strength. Steve had learned from Choronzon that she was a mix of Indian and Egyptian and it gave her an unearthly aura to her.

She danced with a pair of curved swords and she felt dangerous. Her swords whirled and sliced through the air as the female dancers ripped and tore at her clothes until she was completely naked. But unlike Gluttony, who kept her g-string on, nothing remained but her jewelry.

Then her swords were taken and she was bathed in red ‘blood’. She continued her dance bathed in the blood of her enemies, not stopping until the last song end and she dropped to the ground.

The lights went out and the crowd roared. That was the part Steve found unsettling. The way they seemed to cheer her ‘demise’.

He asked Eddie about it afterward.

“It’s something she started actually,” Eddie explained. “She wanted Wrath to be defeated in the end.”

“Even though none of the other Sins are?”

“Yep!” Eddie said. “I think because of all the Sins Wrath’s effects are most widely seen. War. Abuse. Murder.”

Steve nodded. Greed probably killed more people, but it was in a hidden insidious way.

He wanted to see Lust again, but since it was his day off, he had things he needed to do. Especially with Robin working. So with much regret he was forced to miss it. Not like it mattered, when Robin got home that night, it was all she could talk about.

“Holy shit,” she said flopping on the sofa. “I thought your opening night was busy, but fuck, Steve. There were more people packed into that room then all the previous nights combined.”

Steve nodded. Robin was still in training and her trainer, Joe didn’t want to throw her to the wolves after just two days on the job, so her first day was on Sunday and Joe spent the whole week apologizing to her because he thought it would be slow for her. But it turned out to be the best thing as she learned faster in the hectic fury of Steve’s first night.

“He’s good,” he said, getting food out of their fridge to reheat for her.

“Look I can’t say I see the appeal,” she agreed, “but yeah. The way he makes it all about him and still make you feel like his attention is all on you.”

“Yeah,” Steve said. He brought her a bowl of mac and cheese and a fork.

Robin dived into it with gusto. “So...with the money I made tonight will get us caught up on the rest of our bills.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief. “That’s good news. I thought we’d be eating mac and cheese for the rest of our lives.”

“Well thanks to you getting a job as a lead dancer,” she said around a bite of food, “we were able to catch up in a week.”

“So when can we get our phones turned back on?” he asked, picking at the skin around his nails.

Robin swatted his hands. “Stop that! It’s bad for your nails.” He sat on his hands and stuck his tongue at her. “Anyway, it should be tomorrow. So we can swing by the shop and get them turned back on.”

“That’s good,” Steve replied. “I can finally get rid of this burner phone we got in the mean time.”

“I’m sorry,” she muttered poking at her food. “It’s all my fault.”

He dug into her bowl and tossed a bit of mac and cheese at her.

“Hey!” Robin protested, picking noodles out of her hair and tossing it back at him.

“If I can’t pick at my nails,” Steve huffed, “you can’t say that shit.”

She ducked her head and nodded. “I’m still sorry it happened.”

“That’s acceptable,” Steve said after eyeing her suspiciously for a moment. “But you didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

He kissed her cheek and turned on the TV. He put on her favorite baking show and settled in for a quiet night in.

~

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Tag List: ONE SLOT REMAINING

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4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @dreamercec @sadisticaltarts @too-much-tma-stuff

[dead-dolphins]

Illicit Affairs: 1st Drabble

It’s been a long time coming, but here it is at last—the very first drabble of the cheating AU! Omg omg omg!!! XD Just a heads-up: I wrote this purely for fun, without a solid plot, just capturing the vibes of the AU. Don’t worry, there’s more to come! I hope to catch your attention and, well, enjoy! TW: Eren's fantasies and mentions of potential cheating.

Eren was always the first to arrive at the stables before dawn. As the morning light, indifferent to the season, began to spread over the meadows where the Jaeger and Arlert manors stood, his presence in that shared space came well before anyone else stirred.

It had been this way since he was a child, barely able to hold onto the saddle. He sought these quiet, uninterrupted moments to tend to his horse alone. The stable, the ride—they were his, his sanctuary, his refuge. In the early morning mist, he would steal away, feeling the power beneath him as his mount surged forward, the wind sharp against his face. And afterward, he’d return home, slipping into the warmth of a shower, letting the water wash away the grit and sweat before he made his way to the studio, where his hands sought a different kind of mastery—the mastery of art.

It wasn’t simply a matter of morning exercise—it was a ritual, a quiet preparation for the day ahead. In those moments, alone with his horse, he could feel the tension drain from him, a stillness settling in his bones before the storm of the day. Then the studio waited, with its demanding clients, always expecting more than he could give. And beyond that, the strained silence of home, where his wife’s rage simmered just beneath the surface, flaring up when the cold indifference could no longer be ignored—an indifference that perhaps, just perhaps had always been there. 

Thus, following his routine, Eren arose from the emptiness of his double bed, its crisp linens untouched by another’s warmth.  Dressed in his riding gear and holding his whip, he approached the stable, eager for the thrill of the ride with Pearl, his black shire mare of ten years. The anticipation of the open air, the thrill of the ride, coursed through him as he approached the stall, ready to embrace the untamed spirit of the wind.

However, on that morning, as ostentatious as it was, Eren realised he was not the only one in his sacred place.

Upon crossing the threshold, he noticed an open stall. Though this might have unsettled him, because these things like these never, ever happened in such a methodic place a distant hum drew his attention. It was a soft melody, in a vague, haunting tone, which made him walk toward the source of, as if it were casting a spell over him. Schubert, it was. 

“Hello?” he called out, but the only answer was silence. 

Undeterred, he walked through the stables until he reached the last stall. When he finally entered, he felt as though the gods had smiled upon him.

There, atop a red cashmere blanket spread across the hay bales, a vision of serene grace was curled up with her tiny little nose buried in a book. Oh, he knew her, of course he did. The spell had been cast upon him weeks ago at that opulent, decadent gathering, but now, with her so near and so vulnerably exposed, he was even more entranced. This was Mikasa, the daughter of his closest friend, an enchantress bound by ties of loyalty and propriety that made her sight all the more tormenting.

She seemed blissfully unaware of his presence, and seizing those fleeting moments, he allowed his gaze to linger upon her with a fervent intensity. Her midnight-black hair cascading like a veil, and her skin, pale and flawless, gleamed with an almost otherworldly purity. Eren’s eyes were ensnared by her, unable to avert their gaze.  She was exquisitely beautiful, a beauty that cut to the bone, and also… agonisingly forbidden. 

“Hey,” Eren rasped, his voice rough as he knocked the gate with his fist. He forced himself to keep his gaze from lingering too long on the way her white jeans clung to her curves, especially in her butt.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Mikasa replied, her voice breaking from its melodic flow as she looked up from the book she had been engrossed in. From his vantage point, Eren first noticed her lips—her  natural, rosy lips. “I didn’t realise someone had arrived.”

Eren let out a groan, blinking. He thought the noise he had made should have been sufficient to alert her. It felt almost as if she had purposefully overlooked him, drawing him closer with the pretence of ignorance. But it sounded quite stupid to think, wasn’t it? “I was just concerned about the open box,” he said.  “We usually don’t leave them open for safety reasons.”

“I see.” She closed the book and rose from her makeshift seat. For a fleeting moment, Eren feared he had angered her, a thought that unsettled him deeply. The only person he didn’t mind provoking was his wife, but the idea of doing the same to Mikasa was far less agreeable. It seemed she harboured no such desire to be antagonised, and that realisation troubled him.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” he continued, trying to maintain his composure despite the turbulent feelings roiling within him. “It’s unusual to find the stables like this.”

She shook her head slightly, her dark hair falling around her shoulders like a silken curtain. “It’s no trouble. I came here to find a quiet place to read. I didn’t realise I was encroaching on someone’s routine.” She smiled, as if trying to ease him somehow. “It won’t happen again, Mr. Jaeger.”

The formal address sent a shiver through him. Her tone, innocently sensual, seemed to blur the line between reality and fantasy, leaving him momentarily uncertain if his senses had deceived him. But the small, wicked smile curling at her lips soon dispelled any doubt. It was clear now—she had spoken with intent, deliberately weaving her words to provoke.

Eren swallowed hard, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to shake off the effect of her presence. “I appreciate your understanding,” he said, though the words felt hollow against the backdrop of his confusion.

Mikasa nodded, a glint of amusement dancing in her face. “Of course. I’ll be sure to choose a more appropriate place next time.”

As the girl moved to gather her things, Eren’s gaze, despite his efforts to maintain propriety, inevitably fell on the fabric of her jeans, stretching against her round butt. For a brief moment, an intrusive thought crossed his mind—an unsettling curiosity about whether her ass cheeks would be as pale as her face skin, and whether it would redden easily if… if spanked them with his hand. The thought was both inappropriate and unwelcome, stirring a flush of guilt and shame within him.

He forced himself to look away, shaking his head as if to clear his mind of the unwelcome intrusion.  But he could not rid himself of the thought. It was as if it embedded itself into his consciousness with an unshakeable persistence. 

He had always harboured thoughts of restraint and discipline, of the primal urge to dominate. And something in her was calling to let those fantasies fulfil. Yet… she was still forbidden. She was his best friend’s adopted daughter, ten years younger and entirely beyond his reach. The boundary was clear, unbreakable, or so it should have been. He couldn’t betray Armin like that, nor could he do it to her, innocent as she was. Yet, the more he tried to suppress the thought, the more the desire took root.

When Mikasa finally rose, her book tumbled from her grasp, and he seized the chance to divert his gaze. As he picked it up, a surge of surprise swept over him. The so-called “innocent girl” was engrossed in something far from innocent. 

“Lady Chatterley’s Lover,” he read. “An interesting choice of book.”

Instead of reaching for the book as he had anticipated, she merely laughed. “Don’t tell anyone;  I borrowed it from the trunk of forbidden books.”

Eren looked at her once more, and it was then that he reconfirmed what his instincts had whispered all along. She was, in some way, playing a game to allure him, and if this was her strategy, then he was more than willing to engage.

“So,” he began. “The trunk of forbidden books, you say? I never imagined you to be one for such… provocative literature.”

Mikasa tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eye. “One must explore the forbidden to understand the world fully. Don’t you agree, Mr. Jaeger?”

The question hung in the air. Eren felt a flush of heat rise to his cheeks, both from her insinuation and the brazen challenge in her tone. He forced a casual smile, attempting to mask the growing tension. “Indeed,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “But I think we’re both aware of the boundaries that come with such… explorations.”

Her gaze softened, but the mischief remained. “Boundaries are meant to be tested, aren’t they?.”

“Have you ever explored your boundaries, Mikasa?” he asked, his voice taking on a rough, husky edge as he spoke her name.

“I suppose that depends on what you mean by boundaries. There are many kinds—emotional, physical, societal.” She brushed past him, and stopped just beyond his reach.  “And sexual.”

Her voice, low and sultry, made the word hang heavy in the air between them. Eren could feel the tension crackling, a charged silence punctuated only by the soft rustling of hay and the distant sound of a horse’s whinny.

“And which boundaries are you most interested in exploring, Mikasa?” he asked, his voice rough.

Mikasa turned slightly, her profile illuminated by the soft morning light filtering through the stable’s open door. “At my age, I want to explore everything—absolutely everything. There’s still so much to learn, but…” She lowered her voice, ensuring only he could hear. “Lately, the idea of discovering my sexual boundaries has been calling to me, Mr. Jaeger. Quite strongly, I might say.”

Eren’s breath caught in his throat. Her bold response shattered any remnants of propriety he had clung to. 

“That’s why I’ve been pilfering these books,” Mikasa continued, her voice a blend of candour and intrigue. “Though, ah, they haven’t quite lived up to my expectations. They’re exquisitely written, and the portrayal of female pleasure is beautiful, but... I find myself craving something a bit more... intense.”

Her admission stirred a maelstrom of thoughts within him. His mind was consumed by a torrent of sinful fantasies, each more decadent than the last. All he could think about was how he could push the boundaries of her desires and explore the depths of their mutual transgressions.

He took a step closer, the distance between them now minimal. “I also have a chest of forbidden books,” he murmured, his tone dropping to a hushed, secretive note. “In my library at home. Perhaps someday, if you’re interested, I could lend you one. I have a collection of favourites that you might like.”

Her  gaze met his, a flicker of excitement mingling with the challenge in her eyes. “I would like that.” she said softly, “but there’s no need to bring it to me. I can fetch it by myself; one day when your wife isn’t around.” The hint of a smile played on her lips. “Hitch doesn’t seem to like me.”

The way Mikasa spoke Hitch’s name, devoid of any honorifics or any semblance of respect, nearly made Eren laugh. It was undeniable; Hitch, his beloved wife, was widely disliked, and he was no exception to that sentiment—he was among the first to voice it.

“Hitch has never been one to win hearts. Her absence is often a blessing in more ways than one, and, trust me, she blesses me most of the time.”

Mikasa smirked, stepping out of reach. “Then I’ll probably be visiting you very soon, Mr. Jaeger,” she said. “But you know, you shouldn’t mention this to anyone. It could get complicated.”

Eren’s eyes  lingered on her butt as she walked away, his mind filled with vivid, provocative images. He couldn’t help but imagine him not only spanking her with his hand but also with the whip he held so commandingly while her wrists were tied to one of his bedposts. Oh, what a beautiful scenario that was and he wanted to make it a reality.

“No, of course, no,” he said. “Your secret is safe with me.” It was unmistakably clear that Mikasa, that little wretched beast wanted him, and god fuck it, he wanted her just as fiercely. 

Later, as he rode his horse across the vast grasslands and encountered his best friend, who was already heading off to work, a sense of impending chaos settled uneasily in his stomach. Yet, the feeling quickly evaporated as he recalled Mikasa’s lips and her butt—her beautiful round butt.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

HAL, HEAR ME OUT !!! ghost coming home to wis wife on Easter, he thought he wouldnt manage to come back home in time, but Price dismisses him earlier, so he decides to surprise her by making a egg hunt for her, something she always said she liked to do when she was little, I KNOW THIS IS A SPECIFIC REQUEST, FEEL FREE TO DENY DEARIE, i just really love easter loool (and simon too)

love ur works, hal ❤

A Good Man

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Synopsis: If such a thing as a good man existed, Simon Riley knew he was not it.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Self-deprecating thoughts, allusions to Simon's past & trauma, delving into his psyche, angst, but a lot of fluff, Simon's POV

A/N: I knew I had to get this out before Easter actually came around so here it is early, Anon! This was an adorable request. Enjoy and have a happy holiday! <3

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

If such a thing as a good man existed, Simon Riley knew he was not it. 

Skin shredded; showing every tear and rip with a thinly veiled sense of pride along with a detailed description of every bullet wound and burn. Rope tears along the forearms and red stab marks over the visible spine of his back. Tattoos that depict skeletons and war. He couldn’t tell you every life he had ended, but he could name names until his tongue went black and fell off; though he spared you the details. 

Simon Riley was a devil incarnate. Dead-eyed and robust of body. Muscles wound with promised death and the trigger finger to prove it. His life was measured in an hourglass, the sand cascading down like the blood from his knife after a kill; it would stop flowing, one day – abrupt and final. Simon Riley was a demon, a monster. Simon Riley was a Ghost. 

A ghost with an impeccable memory and a deep love for the woman currently on the living room couch. 

The man blinks, slate eyes taking in the steady rise and fall of your chest with a slow melting of his shoulders. He had a doubt that you had planned to fall asleep with the Tv on – or the floor lamp, for that matter. 

Its golden light slipped over your form, and he traced the flow of it as the voice of the news anchor went in one ear and out the other. Gradually, a hand slipped to the balaclava over his head as your lips let loose a grumble, nose nuzzling the feather pillow. 

Simon often found himself watching you sleep when he was home; how your face would lose all tension in those brief intermissions between oblivion and awakeness. When his own nights were restless, it helped to know that at least someone was at ease, especially if it was you. The fabric slips from his tired visage, the mess of blonde locks atop his head sticking this way and that; layered with the gleam of grease. As the black face-paint stains his sockets and spreads with a swipe of a stiff palm, the ever-constant cloud over his head peels back but for a brief moment of peace. 

His bag was still in the foyer, holding three months of dirty clothes and gear hostage in its zipped space; stained, and bloodied. The man himself wasn’t much better. 

It had been a long few months. 

Hooking the balaclava onto the belt of his cargo pants, Simon bends down on an achy knee, a grunt in his throat sounding off like a boar. Scarred fingers go to brush your cheek, though no words exit his mouth, no whispers of adoration. Just a glimmer in his eyes, a release of that furrowed line in the center of his forehead that seemed permanent these days. 

Staring, the faint twitch of his lips is the only tell at all that he was content at all, feeling your skin as a feather would slide over water. He takes down a breath.

There were few instances that Simon fully remembers from his childhood – most displaced in the back of his mind with a barbed wire fence and a door with no keyhole – though there is one he refuses to lock away. His mother. He can’t help it, and before he can stop himself the words are spilling directly from his heart to his mouth. 

Hell, he really must be tired. 

“She’d of loved you, Sweetheart.” It’s like he’s startled by his own voice, head pulling back and walls going back up, but that delicate glimpse was enough. 

A gravel voice and manchester accent bleed together to form some piece of the puzzle that was his pure adoration for you; small cardboard cuts and divots that had been given over to create a picture. Simon Riley was a ghost, yes, the Ghost, but he was never that when he was home. 

He was just Simon to you.

Blue eyes study the small smile that blesses your face when the man runs his fingers into your hair and attentively separates knots; your body unconsciously molding to his touch. With a kiss on your forehead, Simon chooses to not wake you. It’s late, the man reasons, and he knows how hard it is for you to sleep when he’s gone. Almost as hard as it is for him when he can’t feel your weight on the opposite side of the thin mattress he’s cursed with in the barracks. 

Against his better judgment, he’d learned to love your contact; your presence next to him and the way you fit into his arms.

As gently as he’s able, the black ink of his tattooed arm slips under your shoulders, pushing between the cushion and your limp body to lie still. The other hooks around your knees, and with a pause to make sure you weren't going to wake up, Simon lifts you as easily as a piece of paper. Your weight lays comfortingly against his chest, shallow breath hitting his neck and he thinks for a moment just how it was possible to love something more than you can love anyone else that came before. 

“Simon…” Your voice brings goosebumps to his forearms, his fingers tightening over the shirt he now recognizes as his own clothing you. A smirk runs over his face. 

Lips caress his pulse, a nose taking in his scent of canvas and sweat; a tinge of barely restrained corruption, a soul more damaged than a window shattered into a million pieces.

How can you stand it? How could your body instinctively lay into him and give redemption willingly? 

Simon grips you ever closer, using his own body heat to lull you back to oblivion. He didn’t have an answer – probably never would – but that didn’t mean he wasn’t forever grateful. 

But he was a stiff man; a stoic one. 

He slips through the bedroom door, navigating in the dark as if his eyes had built-in night vision, and hums out, “it’s me. Go on – back to sleep now, Love.” 

Air communes with a soft grunt, and Simon watches from the side of his vision as your lids flicker open and closed. As desperate as the fight is, it’s over fairly quickly when he lowers you to the sheets, cupping your head and setting in on the pillow. 

Soft fingers wrap his lower arm, and with trapped breath, Simon watches your lips connect to the pale skin of his wrist before your form once more goes slack; ever the stubborn one to greet him even half-gone. Weak mumbles stuck forming ‘welcome home’ and ‘love you’ on a lead tongue garble to nothingness like a gargoyle’s stone speech. 

“Hmm.” The Lieutenant smirks as the area tingles, preening like a bird. There are many things to say to you, but he settles with a mumbled, “Don’t hog the sheets. Gotta go take care of the mess first, copy?” 

You don’t answer, of course. With a delicate pet on your head, Simon exits the room silently to take a shower and organize his gear; closing the door behind him only halfway so he can still keep an eye on you as he passes. Ever the neat partner, he wouldn’t go to sleep until all were in their proper places – clothes in the washer, knives and various licensed weapons in the nightstand, and paperwork in the office. 

There was a sanctity in this. A way to get rid of the lingering adrenaline of being on Base or in the field – deterioration of the mind but in such a way it would be described as a boil to a simmer. 

All of it is uneventful. 

He enters the kitchen with only a white towel around his waist sometime later, flicking on the lights and running his fingers through his damp hair before bee-lining to the fridge. If there needed to be a list made of the things he loved the most, it would be fairly short – only three. 

One, you, two, the adrenaline rush of a good deployment, and, finally, your food.  

Simon would listen to Johnny’s rambling for days if it ended with an excellent heaping plate of whatever you cooked for supper.

Opening the fridge, the man’s eyes widen, shimmering with azure glass.

“Fuckin’ hell, Sunshine,” he breathes to himself, hand reaching inside the box with fervor, “you’ve been busy, then, eh…? Bloody feast in ‘ere.” 

The Lieutenant drags out a heaping plate of steak and potatoes – a side of greens covered in plastic and a sticky note on top. 

‘Save for Simon.’ 

The food didn’t look older than a day or two…did you save him some of your meals every once and a while just in case he would show up?

He grunts, re-reading your chicken scratch with a swelling of his chest and a foreign heat on his cheeks. Simon moves to the oven, preheating it and placing a cooling rack on a metal pan over parchment paper. Damned if the man would mess up your masterpiece; he’d reheat it properly. 

With minimal noise, he waits for the meat to be done and settles on placing the potatoes in the microwave with the greens for time's sake. Standing in the kitchen, his eyes gradually fall closed, their weight heavy. But his ears perk at the faint pitter-patter of bare feet. 

The sneaking arms around his waist don’t startle him, and with a sigh on his lips, Simon feels you melt into the curve of his open skin. A head connecting with his spine. 

“Thought I brought you back to bed?” He whispers, flesh melding to you like hot iron, a scarred hand resting over the one that’s on his abdomen. 

Your nose nestles into the burns over his back, and even if you couldn’t see it – the sudden sweep of vulnerability is nearly heard. You lay a kiss and think no more of it, but Simon shivers with beautiful agony; eyes gazing off.

“...Erm,” you groan, fingers tracing the build of his ribs, “needed to hold you.” Your breath stills – half-asleep. “You’re…here?”  

Simon chuckles, hearing it echo off the walls.

“I’m ‘ere, Love. Few more bloody cuts,” he breathes, “but I’m here.” 

“Good. Missed you.” A second of kisses and distant blue eyes. Muffled yawns into his flesh. “Didn’t think you’d be back in time for Easter.” 

Simon twists, aware of the delicate fold of his towel, and lifts your fatigued form onto the counter, settling you down so you don’t fall sideways. He blinks down at you, cupping your cheek when your neck gets too heavy to hold up. Your lids rapidly move, your nose scrunched at the overhead light and the man knows you’re only awake because he’s home. 

He utters out to you, faces close, “The Old Man let me off early,” and lays a peck to your forehead, holding his lips there for a long second. Mutters into your skin, “prickly bastard’s been antsy – hasn’t had a good drink in weeks. Was about ready to strangle someone.”

She’s warm.

His body slots itself between your legs, one arm around your back and the other placed on the counter. Simon’s forehead falls to your shoulder, and with a groan of satisfaction, he feels your fingers go through his locks; itching at his scalp dreamily. 

“...Dunno whether to thank him or send ‘em to a therapist.” You whisper, kissing his neck, unable to keep your hands off each other for a mere second. 

“Better to place money on the both.” His grumbled words are barely heard. “I’ve got two weeks ‘fore they need me back.” 

A soft hum is all he gets before the timer goes off and he takes down a breath, forcing himself to peel back from you and grab his supper. 

By the time the both of you are in bed, he’d nearly forgotten about your comment, and as he stroked your hair and felt you bring him closer under the covers, he remembers. He’d asked Price to give him two weeks on account of the holiday you’d loved so much – Easter – and had used the Captain's deteriorating attitude as a pry. It had been easy enough, the two had known each other for a long time. They knew their breaking points. 

Sometimes living around a handful of other men formed unbreakable bonds of brotherhood, and while that was true for 141, it was also a pain in the ass. People long for home at the end of it – a soft touch and sweet kisses. There’s only so long you can go with yelling orders into the same faces and playing Poker in a shitty safehouse.

Simon never thought he’d be worthy of it, a home, but here he is regardless and here he would stay. And he knew Easter was your favorite time of the year, and he also knew that Easter was…tomorrow. His dead eyes widened. 

The plan formed quickly, his strategic mind helping as it always does, and as he snuck out of bed and laid his lips to yours in a tiny kiss, a shirt was tossed on along with boxers. You never heard the door to the garage door opening, just snuggled back up to the pillow and an old t-shirt he’d placed in his spot instead; inhaling his calming scent.

—

When the sun had risen an hour ago and Simon had finished with heavy fingers. Groaning, the back of a hand meets a forehead, trying to swipe away sleepiness as one would a fly. But he says nothing, feet hitting the floor as he enters the kitchen, an object held in his palm that was quickly stashed in the breadbox.

This was childish, he knew, not at all like the deadly Lieutenant of TF-141. Like Ghost. The boys would tease him relentlessly if they found out.

“Simon…?” Your voice draws him back, and with a look over his shoulders, he finds you wrapped in the comforter like a mouse. “What are you doing out here?” 

The lie comes easily.

“Fixin’ breakfast.” Your eyes flicker to the open breadbox, eyebrows furrowing. A smirk grows and you walk over with a laugh living in your expression. 

“I don’t even trust you to toast bread, Love, go sit down. You’ve been stuck on rations for too long.” Simon only steps back, gazing over your head and seeing your hand pause. “I’ll make us some…” 

He watches as he loves to do, memorizing the parting of your lips and the recognition lighting like a shy fire. The man smiles then, and it is a delicate thing; an expression not tainted with sarcasm or deception. 

Your hand delves into the box and pulls out a plastic egg softly as if it would snap in two. 

It’s cheap, made of thin plastic and fading in colors of the shade of pastel pink. Chipping. There’s nothing inside of it, just a bare piece of holiday joy that never meant too much to anyone beyond children. But with how you’re staring up at him, Simon thinks all the searching in the bins from the garage was worth it. 

“What’s this?” Your voice wraps him close, and your hand holds the object close. Simon shrugs, digging deep into your vision. 

“I’ve the faintest idea, Sunshine.” The giggle flies to his cold heart and he pulls you to his chest to still the raging of it. “My guess,” he raises a stiff brow, “intruder broke in, yeah?” 

“Did this intruder have ears and a pink nose?” You ask, noses brushing. “A hop in his step, maybe?” 

“Hell if I know,” Simon grunts, eyes flickering away before he can break before you. “Best get my gun just in case – you’ll ‘ave to find the rest ‘o the bastard things, though.”

You kiss him then, and he captures the back of your head, holding you to him as if you’d disappear if he let go. He doesn't know what you did to possess him so, to make his thoughts be only of you even when he’s halfway around the world. Were you an angel? A shred of light made physical? Perhaps an embodiment of all the good in the universe? 

Simon had no answer, as he usually did when it came to you, and you sighed into him, whispering redemption to his soul. 

You said you loved him, and he said it back with every ounce of him that was untouched by death. And then you pulled from him with a laugh that could throw away darkness and disappeared with promises of finding the remaining eggs. Like a loyal hound of hell, Simon followed, pulling on the comforter to slow you down so you don’t trip. He would always follow.

The vision of a good life starts with a view of the present. Who you choose to care about; how you make meaning of nothing but a shared morning and a memory of youth. Simon does not remember much of his childhood. Most of the memories are displaced in the back of his mind with a barbed wire fence and a door with no keyhole. Cast away. 

Coated in fear and lies.

Some days he asks how he can still call himself Simon Riley – it’s the name of a dead man, after all…and then he looks at your beaming face, and his question is answered as fast as it was thought up. 

You deserve Simon Riley, not Ghost. Not a devil incarnate or Dead-eyed. A demon, or a monster. If there was even a shred of purity left in him, that was what he knew beyond doubt. 

Simon Riley was selfish, he admitted, and he was loathed to leave you…so here he would stay. Hiding easter eggs and giving veiled hints when you were close to one near the planted flowers in the backyard. There was a simplicity that the man bathed in – the blatant enjoyment of a plain life. 

With a chuckle in the back of his throat, Simon pushes off the back porch and makes a comment about how you were closer to the dead bird you had buried in the garden bed than an egg. A flick of your middle finger leaves him smirking, and he splays a hand over your back, angling your body farther north. The kiss left on his stubbled cheek makes him warmer than he wants to admit; cold eyes soften.

If such a thing as a good man existed, Simon Riley knew he was not it…but he was trying to be damn near close. Until then, the ring he had bought would stay in his office.

TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @shoe1412, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9, @anna-banana27, @jade-jax, @cl0wncxre, @john-pricee, @330bpm-whiplash, @lora21, @wolfyland07, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @levietc, @kk19pls, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @cringe-kats, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @johnpricesprincess, @haleypearce

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Black Out Days

Gale x F! Tav

18+ chronic pain, drug use (weed), unintentional aphrodisiac (slutweed), groping, dry humping, breast worship (f!), fingering (f!), body caging, roughness, sub/dom, tenderness

Tav's pain rising to an unbearable level, she indulges in some found herbs to find relief. But her sanctuary is laced with some heated side effects...

Masterlist

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"Please, please I've had enough." She moaned, head resting against cool river stones.

The pain had been spiking over the base of her skull all day in excruciating arcs. It was all she could do to keep her eyes open, force her face to be impassive.

Between every horrible thing that had been happening to them, her chronic pain was her own burden to bear. She hadn't told anyone besides Halsin, the sweet man helped her as much as he could with what was available.

Nothing made her feel worse than being a burden, so she trudged on in silence. Still the leader they needed. Gods only know how she ended up in that position in the first place.

Crouching at the riverside, she gripped at slick stones, whimpering. Finally letting go of her lovingly crafted mask of health. Wanting to slam her insolent head into the earth, but knew that would offer no relief.

Scrambling hands reached into her pack. At the goblin camp, she had pocketed a jar of promising looking herbs.

She brought the unsealed jar to her nose.

Musky, sweet, near sulphuric.

Yes, praise the Gods. Halfling weed.

Packing Halsins borrowed pipe, she leaned back on haunches, the new movement making her stomach spin threateningly. If she could stretch this supply out it could sustain her, at least until she could slip into to an apothecary.

Flicking her fingers, she brought a small flame to the bowl. Breathing in slowly.

As soon as the smoke met her lungs, a spreading warmth caressed up the back of her spine. Gentle fingers splaying up, cradling the base of her skull. The agony dulling into a veiled hissing. Still crouched in the grass, but far from where she sat.

Tears of relief fell down her face. Gods, she could breath again. Body pulled down deliciously yet so much lighter.

She sighed, leaning her head back. Taking a moment to get lost in the crisp night air, the sounds of moving water, insects calling for one another in the dark. Finally able to perceive more than her anguish.

Standing, she headed back towards the orange point of their campfire. Body awash in calm.

As she re-entered their little world a new sensation sidled up to her spreaded peace.

A soothing heat slipped down her front, pressing an insistent touch inside of her pelvis.

Oh.

Kneeling near the campfire, she examined the jar more thoroughly. Lifting the bottom, she found a small scuffed label written in scratchy hand.

Halfing Weed; Succubus Spittle 5%

Hissing a breath between her teeth, she closed her eyes in defeat. Fucking goblins.

Slick already pooling between her legs, she groaned in frustration. Of course her savior came with a demand.

Already, she knew this was not nearly enough to deter her from the alternative. But it didn't make it any less vexing.

Hips already rocking against nothing, she was infinitely thankful that the camp had turned in for the night. Even Astarion off hunting for a few hours, at least.

Especially him, she knew he had the skills she needed in this moment. But she didn't want to do that to him. From one veiled mask to another, she could tell he didn't want her that way.

Dizzy with heat, she rose to head to her tent. More than willing to deal with this desire alone. She had a sure hand and a vivid imagination, it would be an easy burden to bear.

Her infatuation with the wizard could be tonight's theater of the mind. Wide shoulders, soft brown eyes, hair that brushed against his clavicle. The veins in his forearms when he pushed up his sleeves, large hands twisting and pulling with blue magic.

She moaned, and clapped her hand over her mouth.

Reign yourself in, Tav. Gods.

As if summoning him from her salacious imagination, he emerged from his tent.

Drowsily greeting her, he wandered towards the water pump, kneeling next to it. Pulling the lever, he opened his mouth and started swallowing what of the divulge of water he could catch.

She stood stock still, watching this innocuous moment like a wolf watches a rabbit. The desire pooled in her pelvis boiling over.

Wiping his mouth, he rose back to feet. Seeming to fully see her then.

"Tav, you alright? You seem a little flushed, in a haunted type of way."

Gods forgive her for what she was about to do.

Taking his hand, she wordlessly pulled him into his tent.

"What-" Her body cut him off, pressing hard into his.

Running her hands up his taut back, she buried her face into his neck. The curve of his waist bending up into shoulders making her moan softly.

He was so warm, so solid against her pushing. Smelling of old books and leather. Her hand rising to tangle into his hair, tugging gently.

His body seemed to go weak then, gripping onto her for support.

"Tav, Gods..." He shivered.

His voice bringing her back to herself for a moment, she made to pull away. But his hands held her anchor to him.

"Please, don't stop." He pleaded.

Like a flint sparking, she dove back in. Hips fluid and insistent against his. Gathering his sleep shirt in her demanding hands. Pulling his head back to release his neck to her. Pulsing, biting, suckling into the soft flesh.

The herb removing all inhibition, she was a growling animal against him. Hands pinning and pulling, mouth hungry and salivating.

He fell to knees, and she followed him down. Straddling over his lap, licking an obscene line up his panting throat.

His length already a pillar pushing against her. Hands catching her writhing hips, pulling them flush to him.

Her head fell back then, the friction Gods sent. The slick already pooled in her underclothes welcoming him.

Something seemed to snap in him.

His hands wrenched her sleep shirt over her shoulders. Caging over her body, pushing her down on his bedroll.

"Yes," She moaned, falling open for him.

His mouth pushed into hers, gripping the back of her head.

The heat coming off of him was making her head spin. Intoxicating her body into liquid, crashing against him in waves. All smothered soft calls and silent demanding mouths.

Tangling into him like it was all she knew. All her body could know was getting as close as she could without being inside.

He hitched her leg up over his hip and ground down hard. Groaning in the back of his throat. Chest lit up purple, eyes glowing.

Concern arced through her stifling heat.

She cupped the sides of his face, bringing his eyes to hers.

The question in her eyes reached him. Hips still pistoning, he nodded.

"Please, I want to."

"Then take what you want." She gasped out, leading his head down.

He dove on her breast, licking her hard tip into his warm mouth.

"Fuck," She hissed, back arching.

She tried to reach for his sleep pants but his hand caught her wrist, forcing it above her head.

Pushing her underclothes down her hips, he rubbed hard against her clit. Blurring his hand.

Choking out a moan, she writhed helplessly. His body keeping her pinned and open. Splayed fully against him.

His mouth switched sides, taking up her soft untouched breast. The slurping suckle his tongue pulled against her peak making her mewl.

"Please, Gale. Inside." She pleaded, bucking her hips as much as his hold would allow.

He pushed two fingers inside her, moan muffled against her flesh.

"You're so wet," He groaned.

"You. All you." She moaned, sentences and their structures utterly lost.

But those words must have been more than enough. His fingers began slamming inside her, hooking towards her navel.

Her head fell back, gripping his head to her breast. The force of his fingers rocking her back and forth.

He was the tide and she a ship, unanchored and tossing through the waves.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She whined as the pressure in her pelvis tilted up, threatening collapse.

He pulled her engorged peak between his teeth and she was thrown overboard.

Her legs arched up, clamping around his hips. Back bending, the force of the pleasure striking through her was near agony. Completely stealing her voice away, only gasping out choking silent cries. The herbs making her reach new heights, unwinding like a tapestry pulled. Clenching hard enough around his fingers to make him groan.

She collapsed under him, head lolling. Eyes glazed and rolling.

He pulled his fingers from her, licking them clean. Leaning down to nuzzle into her neck, his beard tickling her.

"You didn't-" She started weakly.

"With the state of the orb, I think it's in all of our best interests if I obstained."

"Besides," He hummed, kissing under her jaw. "Your pleasure has more than sustained me."

"Though I am curious, what brought on this most welcome intrusion?"

She hesitated. Not wanting another person, especially him, who has so much to hurdle over already, to worry about her.

"It's this... pain I have. I found some soothing herbs and they helped. A lot actually. But with other effects."

She pulled the small jar from her strewn trousers, handing it to him.

Immediately he flipped it over to examine the bottom, and she groaned in embarrassment.

"See, that's exactly what I didn't do."

Grabbing for her shirt she instead landed on his, pulling it over her head.

He smiled at her, eyes lit up with appreciative glint.

"Ah, of course it looks better on you."

"Cozy." She sighed, the velvet material warming her through. Sleeves swallowing her hands.

He reached inside her pocket and retrieved the pipe, sparking up his fingers and bringing it to his lips.

Seeing her shock, he smiled.

"You're not the only one fighting pain." He knocked his knuckles on the burned circle in his chest.

"Besides, you seemed to be in a peaceful state. I'd like to meet you there, if you'd allow me."

"Deal." She smiled, sliding on knees to sidle up close to him again. "But only if you let me stay the night."

"Oh, you drive a hard bargain." He smiled at her, scrunching up his nose in that playful way that made her heart gallop.

As soon as he breathed in, she held his chin in her fingers. Pulling his mouth to hers, breathing in the smoke as it left him.

Starting to relax, he pulled her down with him. Sighing contently as she snuggled into him.

"Oh, careful. I could get very used to this."

~