#and then they kiss in the rain or something idk

[abandoneddinosaur]

Merlin: I love you

Arthur: you shouldn’t

Merlin: but I do

Arthur: I love you too

Merlin: you shouldn’t

Arthur: but I do

[ragnars-tooth]

Hiiii tldc fandom it’s time for more of the characters you know for sure <3 (holy balls I did not realise the extent of how many images I had until right now)

Jodie is Tam’s girlfriend who’s in like. Two scenes in the fire eternal. Possibly three. This shocks no one. Anyways this spawned out of the joke thought “ha, what if Jodie was being queer and serious when she called Zanna pretty?” And then I was normal about it all week.

Some of these are kinda b4 period/before b5 but honestly it doesn’t matter. This is gay people in the dragon books, you’re not here for canon compliance.

[taegularities]

i'm hurt 🥲

[salsflore]

been almost 3 yrs and i am still struggling with the whole mikachi first meeting thing. bye

[kitten4sannie]

THIS IS SO CUTE WTF

a funfair date

pairing: bf! yunho x gf! reader

genre: fluff, slice of life

summary: you’ve been wanting to go to the funfair to relive your childhood. now that you’re with yunho, you can make even better memories with him.

word count: 2.5k (2,515)

warnings: uhh reader is a bit (maybe a lot) shy, yunho leaves (only for a bit!) and she feels a little anxious, bf! yunho understands her needs better than her, uhh anything else and there’d be no point in reading?😭 OH pet names: baby (overused i’m sorry😓), my love, honey, my precious baby

author’s note: this was very self indulgent lol. my first ever fic 😱 i’ve had so many ideas but this is the first that i actually fully wrote cos i just wanna go to the funfair rn and would it be so bad to go with yunho :/. anyways, hope you love it and i would appreciate feedback 😋 ALSO ignore any grammatical errors lmao i went back and forth so much trying to make it all present tense but my brain hurt :/ leave me alone regarding that lol. enjoyyy!

“one sec, baby, i’ll be right back.”

your eyes widen as your boyfriend leaves your side. you turn to view his retreating figure, too embarrassed because of the people behind you in line to call out to him.

“y-yunho…?” you murmur, confused and a bit anxious as to why he suddenly left you alone.

“next!”

it was hook a duck, a game at funfairs you played often and loved as a child. you were so excited to be here with yunho, wanting to experience the loud lights in the dark hours of winter at 5pm. yet now it seemed like you were going to do the first activity by yourself. you’re given the rod and you aim for a duck to latch onto. as you’re about to hook one on, yunho’s voice hits your ears causing you to knock into the duck you were about to catch. before the stand owner could sense a failure, you quickly hook your duck, smiling to the owner for your prize but then glaring at yunho for his interruption and his prior exit. he’s oblivious to this though, eyeing the prizes as if he had a choice.

“so, what would you like?”

you turn your face to the multitude of plushies that came in all sizes, yet you knew for this game you could only have a small one.

“hmmm…”

“baby, they have the me to you tatty teddy bear! you love those.”

it was true, for some reason that bear was precious to you since you were young and as much as you wanted to refute yunho because of your slight annoyance with him, you couldn’t deny your love for that specific teddy.

“i’ll have that one, please.”

“here you go.”

“thank you!” you beam at the owner before turning around, walking towards the rides with your teddy in tow.

“where on earth did you go? you left me all alone,” you pout at yunho with furrowed brows.

“i went to get this.” only now do you realise he was hiding his hands away from your vision. he shows you the cotton candy he got and you make a face.

“yunho, you know i don’t like that.”

he pouts back at you, “oh, i know baby, that’s why i got you this.”

that’s when you see what he was hiding with his other hand: a blue and red slushie. your desperation to continue being annoyed with him wasn’t as big as your need to have something sweet on your tongue, so you take the large cup from him and relish in the taste. he grins at you, happy to see you satisfied.

“thank you, yunho.”

“no worries, baby. where to next?”

you look around at the rides, pretending to wonder about what to first ride on when you knew you already had made a plan before your trip. yunho knew this too but pretends to wonder with you.

“how about the…”

“the…”

you giggle as you look at him with hearts in your eyes, “the miami trip ride?”

“perfect, baby. lead the way.”

you wrap your arm around his and walk towards the ride, yunho putting his cotton candy stick in the bin on the way. as you approach the line, the usual nerves overtake you. you sip on some of your slushie hoping to keep calm but yunho can sense your nervousness.

“hey. baby.”

“yeah?”

“i’m excited,” he smiles at you so wide his glasses bunch up on his nose.

despite your nerves, yunho’s words help you voice your own excitement, “me too! i can’t wait.” you smile at him, grateful for his grounding presence.

finally, you’re allowed access to the seats of the ride. yunho knew you didn’t like sitting next to strangers so he sits next to you whilst you sit on the end. as soon as everyone is seated, the ride starts, slowly at first and then building momentum, going faster and faster which caused your stomach to have butterflies every time the ride came rushing down. it wasn’t too high but you could still get an overall view of the park, allowing your mind to capture the full picture of the aesthetic of the funfair. soon, the ride comes to an end and yunho helps you out. you pick up your slushie from where you had placed it on the ground and grab yunho’s hand to lead him to the next ride, adrenaline coursing through you.

luckily there was space for more people to join so you and yunho were admitted into the tagada ride without having to wait in line.

you sit in the middle where there was space and the ride begins. similar to the other ride, you were going at a soft pace until the conductor wanted to shake things up and started making it spin faster, making more bumps occur. a few times your legs lift into the air with your arms held onto the railing behind you. to stop you from momentarily levitating, yunho placed one of his long legs over your lap, securing you in place. you may not admit it but this is what you wanted the outcome of this ride to be: you held by him. you heart flutters but you try not to let your giddiness at his action show too much. he seemed content with keeping you safe and that was enough for the both of you. some other people did fall and you felt bad for finding it funny so you tried to hide your face behind yunho’s shoulder. eventually, the fun was over and you both headed to the next ride, not as disorientated as everyone else.

you once again had yunho’s hand in yours and was about to beeline to the next ride when he pulls you back. it was a bit comic, the way your leg stuck out only to fall back into his arms.

“how about we take a five minute break, yeah?” he speaks into your ear. it tickles but you couldn’t help the smirk that falls over your features.

you face him. “why? you getting scared?”

he chuckles at you. “no, baby, just thinking we don’t wanna waste all our energy now and be too tired to enjoy the rest of our time.”

he looks at you knowingly and you lower your gaze to the side. he was talking about you of course, since you tended to get overexcited when you were happy and that led to early burnout.

“okay, let’s find a bench to sit on.”

due to it being the middle of winter, the cold bit at exposed fingertips and noses with a dark azure blanket covering the park, which meant there weren’t as many people at the funfair than there would have been during the summer. you didn’t mind this at all, savouring the music from the rides travelling through the air.

“come here, baby.” yunho wraps one of his arms around you to pull you closer.

“yunho, i’m about to sit on your lap!”

“so? sit on it.”

“nooo! people will see us.”

“and? we’re just tryna keep warm.”

“i’m warm enough,” you huff at him.

“i want you to be warm more than enough.”

you look at yunho’s face and see the sincerity in it. the bright lights surrounding you two reflect from his glasses, looking like he was shooting stars from his eyes.

“being here with you is more than enough. i’m content. even tho the weather is freezing, i feel warm when i’m with you.”

because of the cold, because of your words, whichever it was, a light pink tint crept upon yunho’s face. you wanted to kiss him, just a peck, maybe even on the nose but your awareness of other people made you hold back. just as you were about to turn to get up, yunho’s face drops to yours and places a sweet kiss on your lips. he lingers but not for long, speaking just a breath away from you, “i love you.” it was your turn to blush.

before your shyness could overtake you, yunho gets up holding your hand and leads you to the next ride.

“wait, how did you know this was next?”

“mmm, just had an inkling.” he winks at you and you shake your head laughing.

it was time for one of your all time childhood favourites.

after waiting in line for less than five minutes, you and yunho sit in a cart and push the barrier over yourselves to make sure you were secure so that you wouldn’t fall out. when everyone was ready, the ride came to life, with its blinding lights and powerful music. you start moving forward, going up and down as if riding the waves of a smooth ocean. it starts to pick up pace and after a few minutes, your cart begins spinning, turning side to side. it felt like you were in a chaotic ballroom, where the moves were the same but harsher and with upbeat tunes. you fight to keep your eyes open, the intensity making you want to just snuggle against yunho. but you keep your hands on the handle and continue to enjoy the ride.

when it ends, you have to hold onto yunho for support, feeling a bit dizzy. he grasps your waist as he gets you both out of the ride and back on the ground.

“wow.”

“you okay, baby?”

“yeah, that was … a lot than i remember. but i’m okay! but… can we sit down… heh…?”

“of course we can, my love.” yunho smiles as he guides you to the bench you were sat on previously. he didn’t sit down with you, choosing to stand with his arms crossed, looking around as you gather your senses.

“hey, baby. how bout we go on the teacups?” he quirks an eyebrow.

“the teacups?” they aren’t a part of your plan, yet you don’t want to say no either. if you ride them for a bit, it would allow you more time to spend with yunho, and that was the whole point of today. “okay, help me up.”

he grabs both of your hands and then you make your way to the multicoloured teacups awaiting someone to sit in them.

it was getting late, meaning no children were scrambling to get on and you guessed maybe the remaining adults didn’t want to ride a stereotypical children’s ride, which was a bonus for you.

“go on, baby, go pick one.”

you didn’t think about it and just walked until you felt satisfied.

“i see, your favourite colour, honey.”

“oh. oh yeah.” maybe that’s why the green one felt right to you.

the teacups started moving and the whole ride was relatively slow, but that didn’t bother you as you felt calm. you and yunho spin your own teacup for a bit of fun but you mainly enjoyed each other’s presence, basking in the warm glow of the lights above.

it ends sooner than you expect. you drag your tired legs from the teacup and hold yunho’s hand as you both get off the ride. it was time for the next phase of your plan but it didn’t feel right to carry out yet. you didn’t know what to do in the meantime, eyes desperately flicking between the stands and rides that surrounded you.

yunho gasps, which scares you. “what?”

he points at a truck towards his left, a little closer to the end of the park. “churros.”

“oh,” you sigh in relief. “you want some?”

“do you?”

“hmm, yeah actually. let’s get some.” you smile up at him as you hold onto his arm, making your way there.

once you acquire the churros with the accompanying chocolate dip, you feel it’s the right moment.

“yunho, let’s have these whilst we ride the ferris wheel.”

he looks at you with a mixture of surprise and awe. “baby, that’s such a good idea. let’s go.”

finally, the last stop of the day. there were a few other couples getting on the ferris wheel as well, which annoyed you slightly, but you were grateful for the ride conductor for spacing out the people between the carts.

you get in with yunho and your churros, sitting down facing each other. at first, you sit in silence, the pair of you quietly enjoying the sweet treat, occasionally looking out down below. once you finish eating, you could only stare at yunho. shyness crept upon you for a second time that day and you try to avoid eye contact with him. you wanted this alone time together but could hardly handle being alone with him so intimately, let alone initiate anything.

yunho continues to look at your flustered figure, noticing how stiff your body was compared to you eyes flittering all around the cart. he tilts his head with a light smile, finding it cute how hot and bothered you became around him.

without a word, he pulls you onto his lap. you were about to pull away but this only made him hold you closer.

“shh, baby. we’re all alone. we’ll be fine.”

as he said that, the cart stops and you look out the window to see you were at the very top. just like you wanted.

yunho could sense you were too shy to make a move you had planned to make so he wanted to help you. he moves his face to yours so he could look straight into your eyes. you felt yourself warm up, contrary to the weather outside. holding onto his collar, you make yourself look back into his eyes, even if that had you slightly quivering.

“baby,” he speaks on your lips and your eyelids flutter. you will yourself to not shut them completely, resuming the staring contest.

he smiles against you. “ba-“ before he could finish the word, you press you face to his to close the gap, lightly kissing him. after a few (very long) seconds, you pull away, your eyes wide as if you didn’t expect yourself to make the first move. but you did, and yunho was so proud of you.

“my precious baby, kissing me first, hm?” you were ready to hide your face in his chest but he places his hands on your cheeks to keep you in place. “i loved it, should do it more often.” you whine at his words but you both knew how much that filled you with confidence.

the ride starts again, taking you down to the surface where you would have to depart. you wrap you arms around yunho’s neck and whisper in his ear, “i love you, yunho.” even though you were the only ones who would have heard it, your soft voice highlights the vulnerability you feel in the moment.

“i know, baby. i love you too.”

as you near the bottom, yunho gently places you on the seat you were sitting on opposite him and soon the doors open. you look at each other as you have everything you needed, walking out with your hands entwined and your tatty teddy bear in the other.

[youichi-kuramochi]

How do I get you into alien stage

that's that new yaoi everyone on twt is obsessed with rn right (girl whose entire knowledge of this is comprised of seeing the same flavor of fanart drawn 20 different ways multiple times a day)

[kitten4sannie]

ᴋɪꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴇʟʟ

ᴘᴇʀᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴏɴ/ᴘʀᴀɪꜱᴇ ➠ ʏᴜɴɢɪ

pairing: bf! mingi x gf! reader x roommate! yunho

genre: smut

summary: there’s something irresistible about your boyfriend’s roommate.

w.c: 3k

warnings: established poly relationship, switch! mingi + reader, dom! yunho, lots of perverted activities going on (panty sniffing for one…), voyeurism/exhibitionism, mxm, mostly pet names + praise <33, glasses kink idk i really like glasses if you couldn’t tell,, a tiny amount of false praise/name calling, kissing (including a three way kiss 🫣), manhandling, instruction giving, masturbation, oral (receiving), cum eating/swapping, cockwarming, dp in one hole, brief tit play, bulge kink, breeding kink, squirting, creampies

a/n: DON’T YOU LOOK AT ME 🫵🏼 i had to write this okayyy it was the only way to quell the brainworms uwu esp after that dance challenge yuyu posted ohmygodohmfhwwh and migiii GRRRRRRRR BARK anyways, i’ll return to my enclosure now 😔 if you enjoyed plz lemme know~~

song rec: kiss & tell by ethan low + gen neo

ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

It only took a week of dating your boyfriend to know that he had a special relationship with his roommate. The both of them could deny it all they wanted, but you weren’t blind. You didn’t even mind it, either — in fact, it intrigued you. The more the merrier, after all. Now that you had just moved in with them, you expected to see it first hand, but you would come to realize that there was a lot more to the story — and you were a major part of it. 

“All we did was jerk off together, Y/N, it was one time, maybe two…” Mingi explained to you over the sound of running water, as if that even helped his case, handing you the plastic plate he had just washed. 

“Riiight, and I only scissored my bestie once or twice, right after the group orgy,” you replied sarcastically, wiping the dish with a rag and putting it back into your shared cabinet. 

Mingi almost dropped your favorite cat mug into the sink. “Y-you didn’t tell me you were into group sex.” 

You quickly took the mug from his grasp, holding it to your chest. “I was just joking, Min, so that you could see how silly you sound.” You reached up to caress his cheek with your cold hand, making him shiver. “Who cares if you’re attracted to your roommate. You know I don’t mind.” 

Mingi’s eyebrows screwed upwards, looking down at you with wide eyes. “B-but, he’s a dude.” 

“And?” 

He bit into his plump lip. “He’s got a dick.” 

You nodded your head. “Even better.” 

Mingi turned off the sink. “He’s my best friend, Y/N…” 

“I don’t see why that’s a problem, Min. You can’t control who you like.” 

“I-i don’t like him!” your boyfriend protested weakly, his rosy cheeks betraying him. 

You sighed, accepting defeat for now. “Okay, baby, I hear you.” 

Mingi suddenly cornered you against the sink, his hands on each side of the counter. He towered over you. “Why are you so interested in Yunho, huh? Do you want him?”

Now that the tables had turned, it was your turn to blush. “Wh-what?” 

Mingi slowly pressed himself into you, his body warm against yours. He was hard. You could feel it. “You heard me.” He leaned down to whisper, “You want to fuck my roommate, don’t you, baby?” 

Just then, the front door opened, a set of heavy footsteps making their way through the corridor until the very roommate you were speaking of appeared in the kitchen. “It’s raining cats and dogs out there,” Yunho chuckled softly, pulling his heavy black coat off, along with his foggy glasses, before shaking his head like a dog, his dirty blond bangs sticking to his forehead. 

Mingi had positioned you in front of him to conceal his boner, trying his best to look casual with his arms wrapped around you, his chin resting on the top of your head. “I told you to bring an umbrella, dumbass.” 

Yunho dropped his stuff down onto the kitchen counter, tugging at the thin white turtleneck he was wearing, the soaked material rolling up his waist. It had been soaked through, leaving little to the imagination. The both of you gulped audibly from where you stood. “You’re right, like always, Min.” Humming, Yunho used the loose material of his sweatpants to wipe his glasses clean, putting them back on, his gaze softening at the sight of his two favorite people. “Silly me.” 

“You’re going to catch a cold like that,” you whined, trying not to focus on the way his top clung to the ridges of his abs, or how his heavy sweatpants began to fall slightly from his hips. “You should take a shower, Yunho.”  

You weren’t the only one sizing him up, though Mingi wasn’t quite as capable of being subtle, instead biting straight into his lip, his deep-set eyes scanning lower until he could see the prominent outline of the very cock he was just talking about a few minutes ago. “Yeah, Yun. You’re soaked…” 

Yunho’s eyes formed half moons. His roommate and girlfriend were just too cute. He wanted nothing more than to fuck the living daylights out of the both of you, preferably in front of the other. Yunho couldn’t even keep track of the amount of times he’s jerked off to the thought of what you’d both act like when he was turning one of you out. He wondered which one of you would cry from being fucked full of cum, who could throat his cock the best, whose hole was the tightest, the list went on. These days, he’s even gone as far as to steal your panties, or Mingi’s boxers out of the laundry basket, just to wrap them around his dick and jerk himself off inside your shared room when the both of you were at work. And, as soon as he brought the soiled undergarments to his nose and inhaled your pretty scent, he blew his load all over your bed, like clockwork. Then, he almost always slipped in the hallway on the way to throw your blankets into the wash. It was getting bad.

He observed the splotches of water that had soaked into your own top and Mingi’s shirt alike, his lips curling up into a small smirk. “Looks like the both of you are wet too. Maybe we could all use a shower.” 

“M-maybe,” you choked out, worried your cover was blown by how flustered you looked. 

“You can go first though, bro,” Mingi finished for you, just about finishing in his pants from the thought of showering alongside Yunho, with you in between them. 

Yunho simply ran his long fingers through his wet hair, letting out a small sigh. “Your loss.” And with that, he made his way down the dark hallway to the bathroom. 

You didn’t even have to say anything for Mingi to know where your head was at, not when his other one poked into your abdomen when you turned around to face him. “Min…” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Bed, yeah,” Mingi breathed out, lifting you up from the floor and carrying you down the same hallway to your bedroom, the one that just so happened to share a wall with the bathroom. 

-

Beads of water slipped past the edge of Yunho’s tensing jaw, dripping past his contracting abdomen, and collecting inside the palm of his hand, aiding him in the pursuit of getting off, jerking himself off to the sound of Mingi piping you down. He could always tell when his best friend was about to cum; Mingi’s breath would get caught inside his dry throat and his words would start to come out jumbled. You were similar in that aspect, growing breathless, except you would always voice your desperation, that is, until all you could do was whine just before your insides were painted white. Knowing you were coming undone together in such proximity to Yunho made him so dizzy, he had to squeeze around the base of his cock to keep himself from cumming too soon. However, it was far too late, already letting out a sudden groan, leaving a few hefty splatters of cum on himself and the shower wall. Seeing white dots around his vision when he blinked, Yunho fought to catch his breath, pressing his cheek to the cool shower wall.

“Haven’t had enough, baby? Bet you need Yunho inside you next. Isn’t that right?” he heard Mingi ask you, finding it hard to swallow. Was he hearing right? 

“Yeah, I need him, Min, please–” you whined from underneath him, your thighs starting to tremble from being so close. 

“Ask him, princess,” Mingi cooed inside your ear, too drunk on lust to truly consider how his actions could backfire, bringing one sweat-covered arm to knock his fist into the wall, his hips smacking relentlessly into yours. “He’s right there.” 

Yunho jumped at the sensation of Mingi knocking through the wall, reaching over his body to turn the shower water off, his heart thumping loudly inside his chest. Finally, it was his time.

“Y-Yun, please, come here..!” Yunho heard your muffled plea, and that was all it took for him to burst through your door, a small, useless towel clinging desperately to his hips, gazing at his roommates past the foggy lenses of his glasses. 

“Y-you actually came.” Mingi swallowed hard, his thrusts growing sloppy, about to climb off of you, but staying while when Yunho slowly shook his head in disapproval. 

“I did. Now, you’re going to cum for me,” Yunho told him in a low voice, slowly climbing onto the bed, reaching down to run his fingers along his arm, leaving light, feathered touches over your collarbone next, sending a shiver through the both of you. He licked at his lips. “You’ll let me see, won’t you?” 

Neither you nor your boyfriend needed to have a discussion about the budding development of your relationship with Yunho. It just felt right. You immediately hooked your thighs around his waist, Mingi responding by pounding eagerly into your cunt until the both of you began to cry out. 

Yunho hovered behind Mingi, his wandering fingers closing around his friend’s waist, controlling the rate of Mingi’s strokes until he began to shudder, Yunho’s leaking cock rubbing along the other’s heated skin. He chuckled softly at the sound of Mingi’s whimpers, holding him still. “You’re cumming, aren’t you, Min? Inside your pretty girlfriend?” 

A bit of drool leaking from his lips, Mingi nodded weakly, as though his head was too heavy to lift, letting Yunho push his hips further and locking him in place, coating your pulsing walls with his seed. “F-fuck, I’m filling her up, Yun, it won’t stop…”

Humming in approval, Yunho gently coaxed Mingi to the side to access your body next, grabbing ahold of your nearest thigh and lifting it up and out of the way. “What do we have here? Mmm, no protection, huh?” He observed closely as his roommate’s load began to leak out past your fluttering hole. “I didn’t know your girlfriend liked it raw, Min.” He smiled perversely at Mingi, suddenly lifting your hips up in the air until you were folded in half like a paper doll, blowing a bit of air onto your cunt just to see you squirm. “Do you like having your little used pussy eaten too, baby?” 

“Y-yes, Yuyu,” you gasped, not used to having your ankles near your head like this, your filled hole on full display. It was so embarrassing, being looked at by your boyfriend and his roommate like they were going to eat you alive, but you couldn’t help but want more of their attention. You reached up, spreading yourself open, feeling Yunho’s heavy breaths against your skin. “Hurry, before it all spills out…” 

Groaning, Yunho dipped his tongue in between your slick lips, licking a long stripe up to your swollen clit with his tongue laid flat, languidly gathering up your combined arousal, repeating this action over and over, earning moan after wanton moan from you. Yunho opened his eyes to see how Mingi had positioned himself behind you, sitting on the opposite side of him, Mingi’s ringed fingers groping at your tits. They eventually shared heated eye contact, both growing harder at the mere sight of one another. 

“How does she taste?” Mingi’s voice is gravelly, low, and dripping with lust. “Tell me, Yun.” 

“Like heaven,” Yunho sighs out onto your hot skin, tonguing at your wet hole and pushing the tip inside. It slips out when you tighten up around it, but Yunho doesn’t give up, forcing it back in, much to your approval, flicking it in and out, in and out, until his chin is soaked with your arousal. He couldn’t help but chuckle with delight, licking his lips clean. “Your princess is making a mess.” 

Mingi couldn’t help but run the pad of his thumb over his twitching cock head, spreading the abundant pre-cum along the rest of his length. “Keep going, and she’ll make an even bigger one…���  

Taking that as a challenge, Yunho dove back in, with even more enthusiastic drags of his tongue this time around, aggressively guiding your hips to his favor. 

You tossed your head back, broken moans and expletives falling from your lips. You instinctively reached out, wanting to hold onto something: Yunho’s shaggy hair, your boyfriend, the warm sheets, or something, anything, when Mingi took hold of your wrists and held you still, his fingers slowly moving down to interlace with yours. “Oh my god–fuck, please…!” 

“Yes, that’s it, baby,” Mingi encouraged softly, giving your hands a gentle squeeze or two. “That’s my girl, being so good for us…”

Yunho’s hum vibrated through your lower half, his nose only bumping into your clit one more time, before a spray of arousal hit his moving tongue. It wasn’t until he could hear your juices splatter down onto his bare skin and the bed that his eyes rolled underneath his fluttering eyelids. “Oh my god…” He was so dizzy with lust, he was going to bust at any second, if he wasn’t careful. Just then, he noticed Mingi pulling you up into his arms, your back to his chest. He watched Mingi tilt your head until your lips met, throbbing at the sight of his tongue disappearing into your mouth. 

With Mingi’s arm snaking around your middle, his hand  cupping your sensitive cunt and his tongue down your throat, you opened your eyes to gaze at Yunho’s lips. Wanting to taste yourself, you lazily broke the kiss with Mingi, pulling Yunho closer to you, so close that you could still see drops of your arousal stuck to his glasses. “I taste like heaven, huh?” 

“Mm-hm…” Yunho pressed in closer, sandwiching you in between him and your boyfriend, his hands moving downwards to explore the closest expanse of skin, whether it was yours or Mingi’s. “I’ll show you.” 

Yunho’s tongue slid into your mouth before you had a chance to properly taste his lips, letting you taste your warm arousal instead. Just then, Mingi lifted your hips up and back down onto his stiff cock, not even moving, just wanting to feel the way you stretched open to accommodate him. It felt so good, he couldn’t help but throb, eyes shutting tight from the pleasure, immediately kissing back when your lips were back on his. You turned your head slightly to kiss each of them, your boyfriend and roommate taking turns swallowing each and every moan you let out, that is, until your lips and tongues met in the middle. 

Soon, you pulled away to take a much needed breath, unable to catch it, especially now that you realized the two men didn’t seem to stop like you did, instead tilting their heads in opposite directions to deepen the kiss, drool dripping along their chins. They both gripped your hips from either side, mutually guiding them up and down, just as Mingi began to thrust up into you, Yunho’s cock rubbing along your clit at the same time. Once your cunt squeezed around Mingi’s cock, he knocked his head back, forcing the string of saliva that connected their lips to break apart. “Fuck, baby– princess, you’re squeezing so tight…feels so good…” 

“Is she? I bet she’ll squeeze even harder with me inside,” Yunho panted near your ear, his head spinning, swearing all the blood in his body had traveled to his heavy cock. 

“What are you waiting for? Give it to me..!” you gasped out, unable to control the volume of your voice, not when Mingi was slamming into you like a short-circuiting sex machine.

“Give it to her, Yun,” Mingi encouraged raspily, lifting your body up and lowering you back down, feeling your cunt slowly stretch open to fit the both of them inside and swallow them up completely. Once Yunho bucked his hips up, Mingi joined suit, their slick cocks rubbing along one another so quick, they would occasionally slip out, though they simply pushed back in and fucked you harder than before. “Oh, that’s it…oh, god…”

“I’m gonna–nnnngh,” Yunho cut his announcement off with a moan, gritting his teeth tight, pumping what seemed to be an endless load into your already used pussy. “Fuck, it really won’t stop…I’m gonna knock up your girlfriend, Min…” 

Just when you thought you would pass out, Mingi wrapped his arms tight around your middle, his hands laid flat against your stomach, swearing he could feel his roommate’s cock underneath the pads of his fingers. “What’s mine is yours,” Mingi sighed out, pulling out for a moment, just to force himself back in, shooting thick ropes of cum deep into your womb. Panting heavily, your boyfriend’s hands slid down along your abdomen, only having to pinch and rub at your clit for a moment, before you completely unraveled in between their heaving bodies. 

Yunho pulled his glasses off, tossing them onto the bed. “You really mean that, Min?” he asked, leaning in closer. Not only did he have free rein with his roommate’s pretty little girlfriend, but Mingi seemed to be up for grabs as well. If this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up. “Does that include you?” 

Mingi scoffed, his cheeks hot to the touch, hoping Yunho couldn’t feel how hard he just got. “Now, let’s not get carried away.” 

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

fff taglist: @yutasbutterfly02 @wisejudgedragonhairdo @dawn-iscozy @bbdeongi @multistanbaby @cr4zyf0rm @kittenfrostt @magicshop1913 @enbysforhongjoong @londonbridges01 @mingisdimple @motherseonghwa23 @wwooyology @everyonewooeverywhere @leo-seonghwa @yourfatherlucifer @hwallazia @vampzity

[bbystark]

♡ soap's little plan ♡

abo!141 x omega!reader

♡ masterlist ♡ request more! ♡

summary: despite having a pack of his own, soap finds himself wanting more. he's grown tired of being the only Omega with 2 unruly Alphas. good thing you showed up, now he can flush those pesky little suppressants and make you theirs.

⚠︎ suggestive themes, soap being a little obsessed, invasions of privacy

a/n: series??? idk where this came from but enjoy

Soap wasn’t an unhappy man. He was talented, knew just how dangerous he was in the field, how many brushes with death he’d skillfully skirted with a big “fuck you” and a bloody smile. He had the respect of his peers and fear of the new recruits. Most importantly, he had a pack he loved. Never went to bed wanting or alone. His inner Omega should be satisfied, all things considering, and yet, he still yearns. 

He feels guilty sometimes. When he’s laid out on one of his mate’s beds, sweaty and thrumming with release. He rolls over, pressing wet kisses to damp skin and trying to focus on fingers that ghost over his head. Tries to push out the gnawing subconscious thought of more. He wants to scoff at himself. 3 mates and somehow he still couldn’t help but be greedy. 

It’s like Price says in the field (and in the bedroom, funnily enough): “You're a goddamn restless dog ain’t ‘ya? Restless and a dog, indeed. 

His words run through Soap’s mind as he stares at you. His dirty little one-sided secret. He’s watched you for months. Smelled you immediately when his eyes first landed on you, an unforgettable mix of vanilla licorice, fruit, and a tang of something earthy, like grass or rain. So unbelievably feminine and soft, he was intoxicated. Couldn’t help but watch as you walked down the hall. You had glanced at him, eyebrows furrowing slightly; he remembered the chill that ran through him when you locked eyes. 

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

He had immediately sweet talked the Beta receptionist into handing over your file. He had tucked it under his arm and taken it to his room, locking the door and glancing around like he was a teen with a raunchy magazine. Read it front to back. You were smart, specialized in cybersecurity before you joined the military. Now you drifted from team to team, going where you were needed. Helping run covert hops here, a little hacking there. He felt a grin take over his face when he saw that in your last assignment, you acted as a demolition expert. An impressive resume, he faintly wondered why you hadn’t been pinned down by a team yet. Clearly, you were an asset. 

He got to your current contract papers, seeing you were brought on to be a floater. You’d help with missions in the unit how they saw fit. He could only pray that he’d be working with you eventually. He closes the file, thumbing the small file photo of you. You were beautiful no doubt, not smiling but still holding a hint of softness. 

He pauses when he realizes he didn’t see a presentation in your file. He flips through the pages again, skimming through your medical report. The boxes next to ‘Omega’, ‘Alpha’, and ‘Beta’ are all unmarked. It clicks then, your sweet smell and the lack of presentation in your files. You were an Omega. 

Soap wasn’t really supposed to be where he was as an Omega. While there were no rules against it, there were hardly any Omegas here for a reason. It was hard, both physically and mentally. Soap had taken twice the recommended amount of suppressants and nearly went broke buying scent blockers. Put his body through hell and back to prove he was worthy. It was only when he became Lieutenant and had the protection of a pack that he felt comfortable enough to stop hiding his presentation . By then, no one could really say anything about it. 

His heart raced. You were an Omega. He had no proof other than being one himself, but he was almost sure of it. It did nothing to curb his growing curiosity. 

He should have pushed you out of his mind, but he’s Soap. He’s insistent and can be downright stubborn when it comes down to it. It was just his nature. He formulated a whole plan, get close to you, slowly ease you into meeting his pack, then make you theirs. Plain and simple. 

It was not plain and simple. 

First of all, the guilt started eating at him. He had everything he’d ever hoped for, a family, a successful career, and here he was. The worst part is that Soap couldn’t help it, he loved his mates, their masculine presence and smell that filled a room. But he secretly can’t help but wish there was another Omega around, someone who could help him ground his Alphas. Gaz did a great job, but he was a beta, and Soap often received the brunt end of Ghost and Prices’ more baser instincts. Not just an Omega, but a woman. Someone with that femininity and power that balances and soothes an entire pack into submission. 

Second of all, you didn’t want to give him the time of day. 

The first time he approaches you is in the dining hall, your face stoic and focused as you grab an apple and place it on your tray. He takes a few breaths, your muted and yet somehow still overwhelming scent filling his senses. 

“New around here bonnie?” He finally gets the courage up to speak.  “Names Johnny, but people call me Soap.” He reaches a hand out. 

You take it hesitantly, and he revels in the softness. He tries not to get distracted by the way his hand almost completely covers your own. 

“Y/n.” you respond curtly, releasing his hand and grabbing your tray.  “Transferred a week ago.” You don’t wait for his response, making your way over to one of the many tables littered with people chatting. Soap hastily grabs a banana and his tray, taking long strides to catch up with you. 

“So uh, how you likin’ it so far?” He flinches at his own stutter. God, he’s out of practice. 

You give him a pointed look. 

“S’fine.” You sit, hastily picking up your spoon and taking a bite of oatmeal. It doesn’t deter Soap. 

He spends the next 30 minutes talking your ear off, receiving the occasional nod or “mhm” from you. You give up very little about yourself, answering shortly and precisely. It drives him mad. 

You cut off his rant on the latest recruits, standing abruptly. “It was nice talking with you Lieutenant MacTavish, but I have to get going.” 

He watches as you leave, stunned and frankly a little turned on at how easily you brushed him off. Soap was a sucker for a chase. 

He faintly realizes that you knew his rank and last name, and has a feeling that you’re a careful and intelligent woman. It only fuels his growing suspicion of your presentation. 

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

Soap keeps trying after that, despite the gnawing feeling of guilt and greediness. The less you give him, the more enraptured he becomes. With every eye roll and silent stretch you give him, he falls deeper and deeper into the need to make you his. 

It only takes a couple months for it all to come to a head. Soap finds you in a hallway late at night, most people tucked away in their quarters. Your scent is slightly off, soured and citrusy. He loves it. 

“Where are you stormin’ off to?” 

You don’t answer, which is not unusual, but the way you push past him without so much of a glance, is. “Aye, c’mon love, what’s got you so worked up?” 

You turn on your heel, almost crashing into Soap. You didn’t hate him, sometimes you even welcomed the company, even though his jokes were shit. Not that you’d let him know you even remotely liked his presence. You stare him down for a second, teeth gritted. 

You had just overheard some particularly nasty and sexist comments about you, not the first time- hell not even the fiftieth time. But it never stung less, that people refused to see your experience and rank simply because you had the misfortune of being born a woman. You regret the words almost as soon as you say them. 

“Leave me the fuck alone, MacTavish. I’m not interested in your company, and I sure as shit didn’t ask for it. Go bother your pack, and leave me alone.” You spit the word at him, and you’re not sure why. Maybe it’s a reflection of your own loneliness deep down. You can’t stand the shock on his face, so you turn around and sulk to the kitchen to find a sweet treat to placate you. 

Soap watches as you leave, and he’s hurt. How can you not see how perfect you’d be for the pack? Granted, he’s the only one that knows, he still has no idea how to broach the topic with his pack. Would they hate him? Call him selfish, wonder why they weren’t enough for him? His fists clench at his sides as your scent completely fades. 

Then it clicks. He doesn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. He smiles to himself, no longer upset at your blatant rejection. He almost skips back to his room. 

He has it all figured out. 

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

The next morning he flirts with some nurses, brings them donuts from the place off base. While they’re all distracted and giggling amongst each other, he quietly slips into the record room and grabs your files. His heart beats out of his chest at the little checkmark next to “Omega”. 

He knew it. He flips through the files quickly, finding a detailed page tracking your heat cycles. You haven’t had a heat in years, seeing a note that says you denied a doctor's request to go into heat at least once every 3 years. He knew that pain, he couldn’t imagine you putting yourself through that. You shouldn't be putting yourself through that. He’ll make sure that you don’t have to anymore. 

He flips a few more pages, going back to when you did have your heats. He finds an entry that notes that you had unusually long and painful heats, along with a prescription of sedatives. The next line states that you usually have them every 3 months, February, May, August and sometimes December. He hears his heartbeat in his ears when he realizes his luck of it being the beginning of December. It was meant to be. 

He closes the file quietly, closing his eyes in relief. You’d be his, and his pack’s, soon. 

That night, while you’re showering in the gym, Soap is breaking into your room. It doesn’t take much effort, he’s in within minutes, stepping into your sacred space. There’s a half assed nest in the corner of your room, your instincts must be strong if you’re still nesting while taking suppressants. He wants to go over and fluff it for you, add his scent covered shirt to the pitiful pile. He shakes his head. He needs to focus on why he’s here. 

He rifles through your cabinets, desperately searching. He knows you like long showers, but he’s still on edge. If he gets caught, it’s all over. He tries to be quick without disturbing the placement of your items, but he begins to panic when he can’t find those familiar little pills. He rushes to your bed, looking underneath. He’s about to lose hope when he moves from underneath your bed, cursing when he knocks his head on the frame. 

He almost doesn’t hear it. The soft thud of something falling. He looks back under the bed, eyes falling on a tiny box meant for jewelry. He grabs it, slowly opening it and removing the piece of foam on top. 

Bingo. 

He stares at the tiny pills, the familiar pale blue a contrast against the black of the box. He spills a few in his hand. There were enough for months. You were like he was, handing your health over in exchange for surviving here. His fist closes over pills as he makes his way out of your room. He locks your door behind him, trying not to run to his room. When he makes it there, he’s buzzing with excitement. He goes to his bathroom, opening the toilet lid and fishing the box from his pocket. He doesn’t hesitate in throwing them all into the bowl, and watching as the water swirls when he flushes. The water settles, and your pills are gone. 

Omega’s are the most sensitive of the three presentations. Senses more in tune than even the best Alpha. It was in their very biology to be strong in ways Alpha’s were not, to hold a pack together. Your biology would work quickly, work through the artificial hormones you’d been poisoning yourself with in haste. It happened to him, after so long of suppressing his Omega, it came back with a vengeance. You would be no different. 

And with Price’s rut- and Ghost’s, coming up soon, they won’t stand a chance against the strong smell of an Omega in heat. He’ll make sure that they find you, that they take care of you. 

It was all part of his plan, after all.

[hiraethwrote]

contents : f!reader, containts spoilers, character death, mom!reader (has a son), dealing with loss, angst/slight comfort?, bittersweet, no use of y/n wc 1k an : idk what this is, but i just really love satoru and feel sentimental about him... i am not very happy with it but it's something

“mama, i don’t remember this!”

when you turn to look up, you’re staring directly at a photo you have not seen in a long time. once it sinks in just what picture it is you’re looking at, a soft smile grows on your face before meeting your son’s gaze.

no wonder he was confused, because the slightly crinkled picture he had managed to find wasn’t of him, despite the kid being nearly identical to himself. had it not been for the fact that you knew it wasn’t your son who was staring back at you on the piece of paper, it would have fooled you too.

“‘s because it’s not you, sweetheart,” you smile. “come here,” he doesn’t hesitate to scatter over with tiny steps, before you gently lift him into your lap, resting your head on his shoulder as you look at the picture together.

you had nearly forgotten the picture even existed, hid away with other tokens of your late love.

it was a rather simple picture, one from when satoru was just a child, long before you had the privilege of loving him. standing straight and proud, a young satoru was smiling at you, a toothless grin stretching so far across his face that his eyes were squeezed shut.

“it’s your daddy,” you sigh as your son leans back against you. “i think he’s a little older here than you are know.”

“he looks just like me!” excitement carrying his words.

and he did. same tufts of white hair that were always sticking in every direction. same warm smile that greeted everyone he encountered. same kind eyes that never lied.

“do you miss him?”

you turn to look at him, meeting familiar blue eyes you used to get lost in for hours on end. “every day,” you say simply, a sad smile painting your lips.

never letting your eyes leave your son’s face, you notice how his eyebrows narrow slightly and he turns his attention back to the photo. “i wish i met him.”

“me too, baby.” it came out quiet as a whisper, leaning forward to press a soft peck at his temple. “but he’s not gone gone.”

“what do you mean not gone gone?”

“well,” taking a deep breath, sensing how your eyes slowly started to turn glossy with tears. “he lives on in me, in my memory,” you say softly. “and in you,” grabbing his soft cheeks and rubbing your nose against his, causing a delightful little giggle to fill the space. “and all around.”

“all around?” he asks, the confused line between his brows deepening.

“i like to think so. for example, on sunny days i am sure he’s in the sunlight that kisses your skin, keeping you warm and safe. and you know when the wind is blowing so loud we hear it in the walls?”

“mhm,” he nods enthusiastically.

“i’m sure that’s your dad talking,” you laugh a little to yourself. “my god, how he used to talk. all the time.”

you keep looking for at the picture, reminding you of a time where you were able to enjoy the privilege of his strong arms around you, protecting you from any potential harm. it always amazed you, that despite everything he was put through, he was still soft and kind — truly one of his many brilliant qualities that he hadn’t let the world that was so cruel to him, tarnish him completely.

“he’s also in the rain,” you say, your voice falling back to a whisper when he turns to look at you again. you capture his eyes, trying to force a smile as his big eyes stare back at you with such curiosity. “you know how you’ve sometimes seen mommy just stand outside when it’s raining?” he nods. “i miss your dad more than anything, and it makes me sad sometimes. so when it rains, i like to go outside and feel the little droplets hit my face. i thinks it’s how he shows me he is still here, comforting me. sharing my pain so i don’t feel it on my own.”

you don’t even notice the shy tear that has rolled down your cheek until he reaches his small hand to gently wipe it away. “i don’t want you to be sad,” his voice is so full of compassion, wondering how such a small person could have such a big heart — he got that from satoru too.

“it’s okay to be sad sometimes,” you assure him. “it just proves that all i felt for your dad was real.”

he doesn’t seem to understand it fully, but you can’t blame him. he’s still just a kid after all. but as time pass, he'll grow up, it will all eventually make sense to him.

“mama?”

“yes, baby?”

“you’ve said before you talk to him.”

“yeah, all the time.”

“you think i can talk to him too?” your lips instantly start to tremble in an unsteady smile.

you nod slowly before pulling him closer, pressing your cheek against his. “of course! i think he would be happy to hear you talking to him.”

“where do you think he is now?” the loaded question comes out so innocently, unable to stop how you huff a breath, trying to find the right words that would give an answer a child could comprehend.

“i don’t know,” you said honestly, “but wherever he is, i hope he’s resting. that’s the least he deserves.”

with his eyes on the picture again, he gently wiggles out of your arms. his kindness steers his hand to dry more of your tears, again causing your lips to curve into a small smile.

“if it’s okay, i think i’m going to go talk to dad.”

“say hi to him from me, okay?” he nods, flashing you a grin similar to the one satoru bore in the picture in your hands. and he runs off into the garden, standing in the exact spot you so often find yourself in.

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[yeyinde]

touch starved reader with an oral fixation x kidnapper!Simon who’s all punishment and no physical affection? Please Simon just a little kiss? with tongues? :( (i just wanna make out with this man while my heart aches for him)

by Allah, you people are dogs. i will write the filth as usual.

DEAD DOVE, 18+ | dubcon. kidnapping. mean!Simon. dom!Simon. masking corporal punishment as affection. kissing. size kink, size difference. some thigh riding. degradation + humiliation (verbal). non-con pet play. marking (heavyyyyyy mentions of Simon biting you like a chew toy). choking. daddy kink (but in the awful, demeaning way). manipulation. forced affection. coersion. forced/manufactured dependency. brief mention of Simon stepping on your back to hold you down so he can whip you w a cat o nine tails. yanno. the usual Friday night.

idk. there's something so hot about you, completely naked, riding Simon's clothed thigh as he holds you up by your neck. tongue out, desperate for a kiss while he just mocks you the whole time.

It's survival. 

At first.  

A means of masking the innate horror of being stripped of your agency, your autonomy, by a man you barely even know. One you met once before (fate sealed), and now—outside of your apartment complex where he was idling by the foothold, smoking a cigarette as he leaned against the brick wall, head turned. Gaze narrowed as you approached. 

Waiting for someone, you assumed, thinking nothing else about the matter. 

Nothing else, except—

He looked familiar. You think you saw him before. He was staring at you. Hadn't stopped. Hasn't said a word, either. The silence was oppressive. Heavy. Your hands fumbled with the keys. Shaking. Trembling. 

He's pretty, you thought, suddenly. In the way car wrecks can sometimes be. Jarring and awful and hideous, but—

Mesmerising. 

Macabre. And that's what he is. Everything from the mask on his face (skulls, go figure), to the absurdity in his size, his width. The way space itself seemed to move around him, bending and distorting just to let him pass. His own gravitational pull. Magnetic. You feel it tugging on you as he pulls another lungful of smoke. Another. Another.  

(like an hourglass, a timebomb, almost. you wonder what will happen when it runs out—)

He gives you the creeps. Suddenly. Unexpectedly. A visceral sense of unease curdling in the pit of your belly as he keeps staring, staring. Eyes—crystalline under the broken headlamp, washout into crushed topaz—drilling into your back, sharp enough to flay skin. Everything inside of you says to run, but your key won't fit inside the lock. Won't—

Ever. 

And hindsight has always been a bitter thing, hasn't it? Cruel in her mockery. Had you known, then, that he wasn't a workman loitering by the complex, waiting for a friend; or a low-level drug dealer casting webs into the plum hewn aether, it might have saved you. Might have. 

Maybe. Because he was there, waiting for you, all along. 

Life has a funny way of paying back good deeds. All it took for your life to crumble down around you, rubble falling off of a shaking mountain, was kindness. Was seeing a large man in the pouring rain, already drenched. Black clothing sticking to the granite contours of his body, and offering sanctum in the shape of a rusting umbrella you found at a thrift store for three dollars. 

(“here,” you said, chipper. All smiles. “i live just down the street, and you look like you need it more than i do. do you want it?”

and he—

he simply stared. stared. his eyes liquid, molten, as they carelessly dropped, roaming down the length of your body at his own leisure. leering. assessing. it was odd. weird, but—

he huffed, then. seemingly satisfied by whatever you measured up to in his head. his neck lulled back, and he gazed at you from down the crooked length of his nose, tucked neatly away under the thick band of a facial mask. skulls. how could you be so stupid? 

slowly, like he was trying not to startle a mare, his gloved hand reached out, curling thick fingers around the hilt of it. he tugged once. in your stupor, you forgot to let go. embarrassment flooded in. he huffed again, quietly amused, as you untangled your numbed fingers from the umbrella. 

in your distraction, he moved closer. smelled of ash, of mildew. sweat and stale cigarettes. there was something predatory in the way he slipped through space. a preternatural quiet. an eerie stillness. 

you hadn't realised he was there, looming, until he rasped out, “more ‘n you could ever realise, pet.”

and you're sure why you do it. did it. but your hand slips into your shopping bag, eyes widen. heart thundering in your chest. 

“are you hungry? i, uh, i just bought some apples, um—”

his eyes are lavascapes. shackles. chains. “i could eat.”)

And now—

Forced to play this strange cat and mouse of his where he treats you like soot on the bottom of his shoe, and you pretend that it's affection. Love. How godless.  

Protection, he calls it. 

("mine," he whispers, orison soft, into your ear. "ain't go' nowhere else to go, do you, pet? world's big. would eat a small thing like you up. safer here. wit' me. only me.") 

You wonder what he'd do if you told him the biggest danger here was the madness nestled inside your head, the one that sometimes made you look at him like he was your salvation instead of the warden holding the end of your leash in a firm hand. Unyielding—like everything he does. Is. 

Withholding, too. Everything must be earned. Nothing given. Nothing handed out. And you know that this is a ploy, a tactic. Subterfuge meant to chisel into your sense of self, dehumanise you. Turn you into a simpering, obedient little doll for him to play with as he wishes. You know this, and yet—

It's survival, you promise yourself as he tugs on the hook latched to your collar, testing it for weakness. Survival, when his hands—bare, bare; warmed skin against skin, you could just weep—brush over your throat, nails skimming goosebumped flesh as he wedges one, then two inside, hirsute knuckles tickling your pulse. It tightens the collar to near choking. Intentional, you know. He likes it when you beg—for air, for food, water, him. 

Vile man. Awful. 

(You want to roll on your belly at his feet.)

This cold, cruel touch lights a fire under your skin. It's been months since he's last done so. Always wearing gloves when he has to. Using paddles, belts, when you misbehave. Never his bare hand. Not anymore. 

(“m’hand is for good girls,” he slurred, words merging, meshing together, painted with exertion. He wedged his boot against the small of your back, holding you down, and cracked the end of a cat over your bare ass, thighs. Unbothered by your howls, your screams, as the whip bit into your skin. You've never so much as been hit as a child for misbehaving, and now, as an adult, you have a madman standing over you, introducing you to something called a cat o’nine tails—a favourite in the army, lovie. “bad girls,” his boot pressed down harder, heel digging into your spine. “Bad girls get the whip—”)

Bad. Bad. Because you tried to run, to leave him. He dressed you up, called you Mrs Riley, and you—

Ducked out the back door when he turned away for a second. 

Stupid. It was poor timing. A test. He set you up, measuring your loyalty to him, your commitment, and you failed. Failed. 

(“this is what ‘appens when spoiled little cunts get their way too much. they act out, don't they? bitin’ the ‘and that feeds. you'll learn soon enough, though—”)

Ghost—sir, sir (master, maker, god; you'll call him anything he wants if he touches you again)—pulls his fingers away, depriving you of his touch once more. And it's all so stupid. So fundamentally wrong, deplorable, but you follow. Needy. Whining for it in the back of your throat. 

It's been months. Months without touch. Without sensation outside of leather lashing across your thighs, your ass; harsh, gloved fingers digging into your jaw, braced against the back of your head, as you swallow down his cock in an effort to prove to him you've been good. So good. Can be good. His good girl. 

You need to touch him. Need his touch. Ache for it, for something outside of this nook he placed you inside of, denied the privilege of living upstairs with him after you tried to escape. 

You want to. Badly. Your fingers twitch. Ghost sees it. Hums. 

“Need somethin', pet?” 

Your mouth is dry. You swallow. It burns. It hurts. “Yes—”

“Yes, what?”

“Sir—”

Behind the mask he's yet to take off for you fully, only ever hitching it under his chin to devour your cunt whenever you've been good, his jaw tightens, the fabric bunching up. 

You reel back from the look of sheer displeasure etching harsh lines into the hollow gaps of his eyes. Heart thundering. Stomach churning. 

“Mas—” he cuts you off with a soft sigh. Marked with his irritation. “D—dad—”

Dad. A new one. Daddy. He didn't seem like the sort to be into this type of play, not with his sardonic, deadpan eyes. His mockery. His dessicated humour, awful and biting. You'd have sooner expected him to laugh at you—in that slow, deep hum he gives; a little chuff, full of condescension and jeer—than to get off on it. On you, kneeling between his legs with your chin braced against his palm, mouth open, tongue out, as he fucks into the tight clench of his fist, groaning as you beg daddy to give you a taste. 

It's gross. Disgusting. 

It's not done for anything else other than to humiliate you. To crush you under the heel of his boot—little bug—so that you will always know where your place is in this scenario. His little wife. Mother, mum—

He pulls on the leash, jerking you forward. Purrs, “good girl,” and then steps back, moving away from you. Cruel. Dismissive. You hate him, hate him—

(Need him so deeply. With every fibre of your being—)

You watch him as he goes, mourning the loss of his presence already, as he paces around your space, your cage. Broad shoulders barely fitting inside. Head ducking to avoid hitting his crown on the popcorn ceiling. It's strange seeing him here like this. Prowling. He usually comes when he wants you, when he needs to enact more merciless punishment on you for whatever perceived evils you committed (not greeting him with a kiss when he walked in, not letting him suffocate himself in your cunt when he had you sit on his face, not making him cum all over your face quick enough when you knew he had other engagements to get to—), or when he ruts, heavily, between your thighs, cold and detached. Seeking pleasure from your icy flesh, and giving nothing in return but white hot agony. 

Him here, idling in your presence, is revolutionary. 

“S–sir—?”

He hums, quiet. Sits in the chair as you gather the fragments of yourself littered on the ground. His mood is malleable, it seems. 

You push, fingertips sinking into the putty of his agreeable temperament. “Can I—”

You waver when his sharp eyes raze over your bare body—clothes are for good girls, after all—pupils sloshing over the edges, bleeding into midnight blue. 

Your body is a battlefield. Every inch of skin branded with his mark—pretty, thrawn rings of teeth tattooed in silver, haloed in black and red, desecrate your flesh: neck, collarbones, breasts, belly, thighs (a particular favourite of his), ass, mons; all bitten through, chewed up. It weeps when you move, has blood trickling down your skin. The cracking scabs make him coo, poor thing, all bloody fer me? and he licks at them, sucks, until only a pinkish wound in the mimesis of canines remains. 

Uprooted, turned into something new—

His chest expands when he settles his gaze on the sliver of space between your spread thighs. Concealed in tenebrous, hidden from his leering, lecherous view. He cocks his head, considers something unknown to you. His thoughts, his mind, worlds away. Untouchable. 

(only to bad girls, he’d snarled out when you asked why—)

“Testin’ my patience still?” He doesn't rip his gaze away from your cunt, speaks to it sometimes more than he speaks to you. “Thought this alone time might’a cleared your ‘ead.”

You flush. Embarrassment roiling through you. His displeasure is a palpable thing. Heavy. You hate the weight of it. 

“I need—I need you.”

Another toneless hum. “‘Course you do. Ain't got anyone else.”

He's awful. Hideous. You want to rip his tongue out of his mouth. “I—I want you. Please.”

Ghost doesn't answer. You stopped expecting him to a long time ago, his moods odd measures of ebbs and flows; passive and mild, cracking terrible, awful jokes as he strokes your back, hands riveted to your skin, and then biting and caustic the next. Pushing and pushing until you lash out, snap, so he has a reason to push you down, punished and smothered under his bulk, as he ruts into you like a beast, a man starved. Tells you it's for your own good. That you need him. Would be lost without him. 

Bludgeoning a hole into you wide enough for him to crawl inside of. Poisoning you from the inside out with the same nocuous rot that flows in his veins. 

Maybe that's been his agenda all along. Maybe. To make you want him as badly as he wanted you. Desperate, obsessive. Going so far as to follow you home, lost little mutt waiting in the shadows outside of your door until you threw him another bone. And when that didn't work, when the food stopped being enough—

He took you. Held you captive in his house deep in the wilderness. A place so endlessly green that you sometimes stare out at it—unfathomable sea of phalthos and jasper—and feel dizzy. You'll get lost out there—

just like he says. 

As he turns your obsecration over in his head, you wait, supplicant to this man as you rest on your knees. Pretty pet with a golden collar adorned in gems. 

Fitting, you find. With his head cradled against his thick knuckles, you can't help but shiver at the way he looks shrouded in the gloaming embers of a fading twilight. Leonine. A king perfectly at ease in this thick, caliginous atmosphere.

His eyes burn, magmatic, in the low light. Vats of endless ink. Black holes that will swallow you whole if you get too close. But he's poised. Contemplative. Assessing. 

And then grips the end of the leash tight in his other hand. Tugs.  

You obey the wordless command, crawling on your hands and knees to where he's spread out on the recliner. Laxed, dripping with a careless indifference as you wander to him, resting your chin on the spread of his knee. 

Looking up, up, at him, waiting. Wanting. 

There's so much of him—a fact that has been the catalyst to your downfall the moment you saw him standing under the awning; this massive creature. Thighs wider than the width of your body. Burly forearms. Broad shoulders. He's big. Indomitable. Thick, endlessly so. But there's a give to his body. Valleys of softness hiding corded muscle. Firm, but—

Your fingers sink into the soft give of his belly when you reach out, bracing against stomach. Pulling yourself further into the bracket of his spread thighs, inching closer to him. 

He meets your reverent stare, eyes liquid along his lower lash line.

“Thought you were gonna keep me waitin’ all night,” he muses, giving another pull on the leash. It destabilises you. Your nose bumps into his sternum, and you moan at the sting. 

There's a dissonance in the back of your head. A hairline fracture in the line that keeps a degree of separation between pleasure and pain. They meet against the crack in the divide, merging into a abysmal polyphony conducted by his hand. 

He watches, amused, as you whimper, sniffing harshly against the burn. It's not bleeding, and not broken—small mercies, you suppose—and you let it simmer into a dull ache as you slowly clamber into his lap.

Ghost leans back as you settle, greedily taking in the sight of your thighs stretched wide over his leg, cunt pressed, tight, against the rough scrape of his jeans. The touch burns. He hasn't touched your pussy in weeks—

“C’mon,” he urges, hand spanning the width of your lower back. Coaxing. “Show me ‘ow good you can be.”

It's all the permission you need. Slowly, slowly, your hips start to gyrate, dragging your slit over the coarse material. The friction is agony. You need more—

He draws his other hand up, curls it around your neck, forcing your head back, back. You gasp, staring at him, dizzy, from down the slope of your nose. The clasp of the collar digs into your skin. It hurts. It's too much. 

you don't want him to stop. 

His hand is huge. It spans the entire length of your neck, thumb to your pulse, pinky grazing the hollow of your throat. It forces you to lift your chin higher just to let him fit.

He likes it, too, you know. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of his bare hand, scarred and thick; dusted with a cropping of fine hairs along his scabbed knuckles, sitting against the whole of your throat. Swallowing you up. Can feel how much he enjoys the sheer depth between your sizes when his cock twitches, stiffening more

The look on his face is appraising, anatomising. There's a cold measure of distance in his gaze. A barren polynya. You want to cross it. Chart these untamed lands until they're deeply ingrained within your being. Cimmerian effigy burning to keep you warm. 

It's survival, you think, and arch into the palm of his hand. 

He holds you like a doll. One hand on your lower back, pressing your cunt to thigh. The other tightening around your throat. Bare skin against bare skin, and oh, you could just cry—

But this is not what you need. What you want. And he knows. He always does. Knows the inside of you like it's written down—inked on paper. Thumbs through the makeup of you, chapter by chapter, until no mystery remains. 

“Tell me what you need, pet. Beg for it.” 

“Let me—” his hands tighten, choking the air from your throat. Crushing your collar against your neck. “Lemme—kiss you, please, please—”

Tighter. Tighter. The world around you swims under a thin ocean. Phosphenes swim, untethered, in your periphery, ghosting along the curve of his shoulders. He might kill you yet. Keeping going, going, until those brittle, bird-like bones in your neck snap—

You'd let him, you think, muscles falling lax. Submissive. Just the way he says he likes even though you know he fucks you harder, touches you more, more, when you act out. Misbehave. 

“Kiss me?” He taunts, words abrasive. Strident. Scrubbing hard against your skin. “Ain't that jus’ the sweetest thing I ever ‘eard.” 

You burn, blister. “Please—”

“Reckon I ought to. Kissed your pretty cunt ‘fore I even kissed your lips, huh, pet?” 

Your chest folds over itself. Stomach knotting. Balling tight. Unease is a razor blade scraping your nerves. 

“Simon—”

“Ah, ah—” his hand tightens. Vicious. Chiding. “You ‘aven’t earned the privilege of sayin’ my name, ‘ave you? Cheeky thing. Might ‘ave to take a cane to you next.” 

“No, no, no—! I'm—”

“Sorry?” He mocks, cocking his head. Condescension drips from the corners of his eyes. 

“Please, sir—”

“Dad is gettin’ tired of this attitude of yours, pet—” his fingers dig into your skin, hard. Biting. A warning, you know. The blunt press of a blade to your jugular. But it thrums along the suture line to your desire, a wellspool of murk coiling low in your guts. You throb, cunt clenching down around nothing. Achingly empty. “Thought we got rid of it this time ‘round. Learned our lesson.”

The words are frank, prosaic. Had you any sense of self still malingering in the back of your head, you might have struck him for the blatant disrespect. But as you struggle to reach for it, pawing around in the vacuous abyss for any fragment of who you were before this, before him, you know—without any doubt—that none exists. Nothing. He’s too ingrained in your marrow, hewn into your skin. Copper sutures holding his filament within you. Cradled between your thighs, nestled in the rotting vacancy of your heart. 

He knows you. Every part—

“We did—we did, da—daddy, please—” 

It’s shallow. Muffled, like he’s trying to swallow it down, but you feel it rumble through his broad chest. A guttural sound. A groan. Drenched in pleasure, in want. So thick, you could almost taste it. 

He hides his need under a layer of derision. 

“Such a needy thing, ain't you? Desperate little slag like you wouldn't last out there, would you?” 

His hand digs into your hip, pushing you off of his thigh. Eyes skewering into the wet stain on his trousers. A huff spills out—the sound a near perfect mimicry of crushing charcoal in your hand. 

“No. You'd be eaten alive. Torn to pieces. World's too big for somethin' like you.”

Mindless, dazed, you nod. Arching into him. The leather leash snaps against your chest. “Yes, yes—”

His cock presses into your thigh, hard, fat. Your mouth waters. Drool dribbles down your chin. 

He smells of tinder when he leans in close, blood drenched words biting into your skin. “messy today, aren't you? Be lost without me. Tha’s why you wear a collar, isn't it?”

Pitifully, you nod. Eyes full of tears. Each word is a bludgeon into your resolve. Into your sense of self. 

But it earns you his affection, and his thumb presses into the corner of your mouth, unhinging your jaw until it falls open, lax. He holds you like that, mouth lax with his hand still around your neck. The other lifts away from your lips, goes to the thick band around the bridge of his nose, slips inside. 

There's no buildup to it. No lingering sense of anticipation. Practical, detached, he merely tugs it down, and lets it snap under his chin. 

Your breath is punched out of your lungs at the sight of him. Barefaced. Scarred. His nose is crooked; a jagged hook with scar tissue delineating the spots where it's been broken too many times. His lips are—

Full. 

Mangled. 

Scars run in thick slashes over them, denting the flesh in places. Burn marks line his pale flesh. Charcoal rubs into his eyes, highlighting the whites of his lashes against smeared soot. 

He's—

Pretty. 

Like a car crash. Calamity. The broken remains of a town after a hurricane, a tornado, ripped it apart. Ugly, brutal. His face looks like it's been mauled by a bear, a tiger. Scarred and hideous, and—

You shiver. His eyes drop, landing on your own lips. The soot on his brow flutters down, lands on his eyelashes when he lifts his brow up mockingly. Derision curdling an awful smirk on the corner of his mouth. Crooked. Like him. Like his teeth. His nose. His boxy jaw. His lips—

You kiss him. 

Can't help yourself, really. There's a pull. Gravitational. Magnetic. You need, need, to taste him. To quench this ache in your jaw that makes you want to wrap your tongue around something, play with it between your teeth. Soft and sweet—

Ghost's lips are plump beneath yours. The thick scar tissue is almost velveteen when it glides over your bottom lip. You moan into it, into the feeling; victory—however pyrrhic—swims like mercury in your veins. Finally. 

And he doesn't kiss you back. Doesn't make any effort to reciprocate at all, but he's not tense beneath you. Not stunned. Or reluctant. He’s pliant. Malleable. Agreeable, willing to let you devour his mouth, his taste, as much as you want. Doting. Letting you spoil yourself on him. With him.

Because you need him, don't you? 

Like the air you breathe. The food he gives you—apples, always, on rainy days; salmon and rice in a pretty bowl with your name etched into the porcelain—and the attention, the affection—

(suck my cock, pretty girl. don't make me put a gag on you—deeper, you can take it, can't you? take my fat cock all the way up inside your sweet little cunt—my pretty girl—)

—it’s all so divine. 

His hands on your body, your throat, spasm. Once. Just once. Against your leg, his cock twitches. Leaks prespend into the demin. You rut against his thigh, aching for it. Whimpering—

And then he's groaning into the kiss, snarling out your name until it wedges between your lungs, syphoned in from his scorching breath. Another brand in the shape of him. 

Ghost kisses the same way he eats—messy, sloppy; all teeth and tongue, and full pretty lips. Clumsy, like no one taught him how to properly hold his silverware and he's trying to mock what he saw on television. Brumish. A broken, contemptuous pastiche of sumptuosity. A starving dog, snarling around its plundered morsel. Protective. Possessive. 

It coils around you. Thick, smothering. 

He sucks your tongue into his mouth, catching it between his teeth. The sting brings tears to the corner of your eyes, and when you pry them open, you find him already staring at you (always, always, always—), lidded. Heavy pools of desire shaded in the brume of a winter dawn. A bonfire flickering in the distance of a whiteout. Sanctuary from the cold—

He seems to catch himself. Expression flickering. Warbling around the edges. It closes off in a blink. He pulls back. Locks into the ashlar veneer of this indifference he wears like a suit of armour. 

But you saw it. It was there. Within reach—

“Need me, don't you?” He drawls, timber a needlepoint between cruelty and desire. Sultry, low. Husky. He knows what it does to you. How he can unravel you at the seams with just his voice alone. “Need me so fuckin’ much, pet. Would be lost without me—”

“Please, Simon,” you whisper, feather-soft. Cunt throbbing, pulsing. Needy. “Please—”

The strident reprimand for using his name doesn't come. His hand tightens around your throat, unconscious. A paroxysm that has pleasure carving itself down your spine, electric. 

“Come get it, then,” he rasps, voice wrecked. Raw. Curling at the edges, thickening his accent until the words elide. 

Hand to your throat, he drags you close. Closer still. Keeps you sat pretty on his lap as he pulls you in for a bruising, hungry kiss. Tongue shoving between your teeth when you gasp.

His kisses are always hungry, but this is different. Greedy. He devours you whole. Eats you alive. His hand falls to your lower back, holding you tight to his chest.

You moan into it, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. Squeezing until your knuckles blanche, joints twinging in discomfort. 

After months of nothing, this alone is bliss. His taste soaking onto your tongue, drenching it in the bitter tang of sage, wheatgrass, and stale cigarettes. Intoxicating. It leaks into you, nocuous. Infects from the inside out. 

His plan coming to fruition, you think. What he sought out to do all along, ever since you wandered close to this untameable Tartarean guard, and offered yourself up to the jowls of a starving beast. 

He pulls away with a heavy breath, eyes charing around the edges; brittle briquette. 

“Gonna be a good girl from now on? Come upstairs, be a good mum for dad? Or am I gonna ‘ave to cane this—” his hand drops, grabbing a fistful of your ass in his hand, fingers digging into the skin between your cheeks. Possessive. It cracks like a whip down your nerves. “—tight lit’le arse?”

You shake your head instantly. Quickly. “I'll be good,” you whisper into his chin, tongue flicking out to lick across his scars. The dried sweat on his skin tastes briny. Reminds you of the ocean on a brumous November evening. The incipient yawn of a ravenous hurricane gathering its lot on the shore. 

Sirens blare in the distance. Fear curdles in your guts, sits heavy like a stone. An anchor. 

“So sweet f’me,” he mutters, words deepening as his head falls back, letting you pepper kisses across the underside of his jaw. Mouthing along the constellation of scars. His voice is rumble. It shivers across your lips, tongue. Shakes the marrow in your bones. “Better stay this way, pet.”

Into his pulse, you murmur, “I think you like it better when I’m bad.” 

You can feel the snarl brimming in the back of his throat. Your ass stings with the phantom burn of when he lashed out with the whip. It drags a whimper out from deep within your chest. 

His hand tightens around your neck. A warning. “Got some guests over f’dinner tonight. Would love to finally introduce them to my sweet little wife—” deft fingers slip across the dewy skin of your folds, knuckles grazing over your drenched hole. The touch makes you squirm. “But if you’re gonna be bad, then I’ll leave you locked up down ‘ere.”

“I’ll be good,” you swear, words a hushed breath over his jugular. His finger flattens, drawls soft, slow circles around your clit. “Ah, I’ll—I’ll be so, so good, Simon—”

“Good girls deserve rewards, don’t they?” His palm flexes possessively around your throat when you nip at old scar tissue. “Maybe I’ll let you sleep in our bed tonight instead of in your dog house. We can ‘ouse together. I’ll fuck you proper—” he roughly shoves two fingers into your hole, leering when you gasp, back arching in a bow. “Know this pretty pussy has been achin’ for me, ‘asn’t it? Gonna breed it full—”

There’s static in your head, ringing in your ear. The noise distorted, pulled underwater. You think you say something, plead—no, no, no, anything but that—but his hand tightens around your throat, fingers pushing up, up into you, notching against that spot inside that makes your head swim, your vision flicker. The abyssal chasm inside of you aches, rages; its waters swell, currents frothing, slamming against the ceiling of its iron prison, and—

Simon pulls away. Fingers stilling inside of you. No friction, no relief. Hypoxia renders the world silent. Muted. Held in stasis, stagnating at the edge of a gaping precipice he holds you over, secured by the fragile curve of your neck, fine bone china. 

Phosphenes swim by. The chossy wobbles.

This distance is agony. You need to be closer, closer, to crawl inside of him, to live in the brackets of his ribs, safe and protected from the world he warns you about. Stone cold. You mewl, whine—

“Gonna be my good little wife?”

Gasping with broken lungs, you nod. Nod, nod until you’re nauseous. Dizzy. Sick—

His spit cools on your lip. Your hackles raise, body shuddering in revulsion—some primal part rears, hisses it’s infectious. Wrong. Get rid of it—

“Not gonna run?”

Slowly, you lick your lips, catching his sickness on your tongue. Swallowing it down until it sinks like a stone to the bottom of your belly. Heavy, for such a small, damning thing. 

How absurd, you think. How absolutely mad. 

Then you whisper, paperthin, “kiss me again, please, Simon—”

And he moves. Liquid in the gloam. Made more for shadows, midnight, than for golden apricity, where the light is harsh on his face, unveiling ruins and ravines; monoliths meant to be paid tribute to in the dark. Your hands lift to his jaw when he moves in, catching your lips in a bruising, biting kiss. 

His touch is searing. Owning. He isn't laying claim: no, you're already his. 

It's possessive and angry. No finesse. All slate teeth and tender tongue. They slide together in a strange game; little fawn stupidly nipping at the tiger's heel. He lets you, groaning into your mouth when you arch back, hips pushing into his fingers, taking him deeper. A pale pantomime of what's to come when he lays you on his soft bed, sweet and divine, and buries himself deep. 

It should scare you. Ought to. And maybe it does. Survival, you think, but you still pull him closer. Deeper. Because it’s bliss, you find. The world around you falling dead. Silent. Pulled into a vacuum. Teetering on the edge of a black hole, event horizon. He drags you in. 

Simon hums, pulling you closer. Touching you—soft, sweet. Palms a gyve. Shackles, chains. His fingers lift from your neck, trailing down the slope of your throat until he reaches the golden loop of your collar's hook. His gaze glides, magmatic, down to where your leash dangles between your heaving breasts.

It's almost tender when he grabs it into his fist. When he pulls, pulls—

Your back arching. His fingers slipping deeper inside your cunt. Obedient little doll.

When he lifts his eyes, the look you find is hot enough to char bone. You taste blood in the back of your throat—

Into the seam of your mouth, he purrs, “good girl.”

—and you swallow it down with a moan. 

(after all, you know better than to run from starving dogs—)

[ssahotchnerr]

okay so, I really don't like angst so I'll go with jealous!Hotch 🤭

Something like when Reader is at Jack's soccer game and Idk, a dad flirts with her? But when Jack sees that she's talking with someone who isn't Hotch, he calls her "mom" in front of the dad who's flirting with her, (bc he's jealous too 🤭) but Hotch hears him and he's kind of moved, but someone is flirting with his girl so he gets all jealous and starts like kissing her or something in front of the man? And the night they end up at his home, with Hotch showing her that she belongs to him 🤭

(feel free to change anything, don't worry, also, sorry for my bad english, it's not my first language 😭)

keeping score

🤭 minors dni cw; fem!reader, jack calls reader mom, unwanted advances, suggestiveness, allusions to sex, small praise, dominant!jealous!possessive aaron 🦋 wc; 1.5k

early saturday mornings - grass still slightly wet from the dew, the sun slowly rising higher into the sky (threatening a hot day), sat alongside a soccer field - you couldn't imagine another place you'd rather be.

as aaron was the coach, you spent majority of jack's game sitting alone. it was a small price to pay; you were more than happy to cheer on jack from the sidelines, and to check aaron out as much as you wanted.

but most importantly, attending his games made you feel like you were a part of the family. the hotchners were closed off and let very few people in, and so your attendance here only solidified your role in both their lives. that aaron planned on keeping you around, and that jack trusted you. your role in his life wasn't to someday replace his mom, but rather you were just another person who simply loved him. you loved him like he was your own, and he knew it.

"mornin'," a voice pulled you from your thoughts; a familiar face amongst the other parents on the team, but you didn't know him by name.

you offered a quick, friendly smile, "good morning."

he set up camp near you, setting his foldable chair down and getting settled a few feet away. you paid him no mind, resuming your attention to something more worthy of your focus, such as how attractive aaron looked in the jeans he was wearing. and the game, obviously.

however, you could feel him peering at you from time to time, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

ten minutes or so passed before he spoke again, "so, big soccer fan?"

your eyes followed jack, who was dribbling the soccer ball down the field. your heart swelled with pride as he successfully kicked it to a teammate, "not until recently."

"me too." he offered you a look that he probably thought was slick, while you kept your gaze straight forward. "i'm always looking to score, if you know what i mean."

his words instantly caused your cheeks to burn, along with your whole body. it was clear he was objectifying you, with no good intentions in mind.

you didn't bother replying. hopefully, that would be a clear indicator for him to leave, or to leave you alone.

but he still chose to linger. and while he wasn't speaking, in your peripheral you kept noticing his head turn, gazing in your direction. his eyes were nearly burning a hole into you.

"shit." he swore as he suddenly stood up, picking up and moving his chair even closer to yours, "the grass is eating away at my chair. must've been that damn rain last night."

it hadn't rained last night.

the unsettling feeling he was causing you only grew, but again you didn't dare to say anything. the uncomfortableness only eased when the whistle finally blew, signaling halftime. this meant a water break and a small snack for the kids, and it meant aaron and jack would soon be joining you for a moment.

as expected, jack hurried towards you as soon as one of the other moms distributed him his snack, but paused abruptly as he reached you, his eyes scanning between you and the man. a confused expression filled his face, his bottom lip sticking out into a pout. it was the same one he produced whenever aaron gave him the fifteen minute warning for bedtime.

"mom," jack inserted himself in between the two of you, a small package of fruit snacks in hand, "can you open these for me?"

you froze for a spilt second, touched and surprised. you've been a constant in both aaron and jack's lives for almost a year now. but that title, was a first.

"of course sweet pea," you coughed a bit to clear your throat, and to stop the tears from surfacing, opening it for him.

"you did good out there kiddo," the dad spoke again, flashing a smile.

your fists clenched at that one - you knew he was trying to impress you, and you hated how he had decided to use interacting with jack to his advantage.

just wait until you find how he's the coach's son.

while you were furious, jack ever so slightly rolled his eyes, such an annoyed expression almost humorous for a child his age, choosing to focus on his snack and leaning comfortably against your shoulder.

and a minute or two later, aaron joined.

as aaron approached, his face nearly pulled into the same expression as his son's as he analyzed the visual in front of him. only his was accompanied with a more hardened, possessive aggressiveness.

"hi sweetheart," aaron greeted you, leaning in to kiss you once you were on your feet. it wasn't a chaste peck either, but rather more showy. his fingers grasped onto the waistline of your pants, pulling you flush to him. "enjoying the game?"

you nodded, still recovering from the unexpected heated kiss, looking down at jack who also was glued to your side, offering protection of his very own. you gave him a smile, ruffling his hair gently, "i think we've got a soccer star on our hands."

"speaking of," aaron started, straightening his torso and squaring his shoulders, making him appear taller. "jack, why don't you join the others. they're taking turns aiming at the goal before the game resumes."

with a nod, and after handing you the empty wrapper, jack ran off to his teammates. aaron was still holding his menacing glare, but dropped the entire expression suddenly.

"how are you feeling?"

"feeling...?" your eyebrows quirked in confusion.

"you're not too sore today, aren't you?" his eyes darted behind you, a rather confident, fiery glint within them. "i wasn't holding back last night, was i?"

oh.

"and now that i'm thinking about it, i don't think you've ever been that loud either."

aaron had always been a stickler for pda; any displays were kept to quick kisses, hand holding, and any suggestive comments were kept to a murmur, meant for you and you only. even when you tagged along with him to bau outings, such as a bar on a saturday night, he held back. anything more was private, and aaron preferred it that way - him being the only one to witness you in such a vulnerable state, was something he took gratification in, and only added to his overall pleasure.

so this, was something else. he wasn't speaking loud enough for all to hear, just enough for the man in question. your back was towards him, so you had no idea how he was reacting to aaron's words.

"i'm fine." you managed, your body also reacting immediately.

aaron's lips found home behind your ear, again conscience of his volume - just loud enough. "good, because i'm not done with you yet."

aaron's hand slid up to the small of your back, but not without stopping on the curve of your ass first - again he wasn't subtle about it, making sure it was noticeable.

and it had to be working, for the man hadn't uttered a single word.

"and actually, sweetheart." another glare pointed behind you. "would you mind helping me at the bench for the rest of the game? i could use an extra set of hands."

"of course." you blurted out, complying without a second thought.

"good girl," he was heavy on the emphasis, patting your hip affectionately. "c'mon."

you were visually flustered as you leaned down to gather your belongings, especially when aaron's hand rested on the small of your back as you did so. your eyes lifted to the man, who was avoiding all eye contact, staring off into the field with a flushed face.

once you straightened up aaron took your hand, leading you away.

"thank you." you mumbled as your hand slid up his arm, giving his bicep a squeeze.

aaron's jaw clenched. "i fucking hated the way he was looking at you."

"you wouldn't like what he was saying either." you mumbled, causing aaron's nostrils to flare in anger. but to calm him, you changed the subject, heat filling your cheeks again, "and you."

a pleased, closed lip smile graced his face. "what about me?"

"what was all that?" you teased, stomach fluttering. you already knew the answer, but it was something you wanted to hear from him again. "i've never heard you, so..."

he chuckled softly, an almost embarrassing undertone to his words. "vocal?"

"yeah." you blurted out, blinking. "it was hot."

aaron shrugged, satisfied but still agitated. "he was devouring you, practically undressing you with his eyes."

"well, i don't think he'll be trying anything again."

"i know he won't," aaron's eyes darkened as his overly confident demeanor resurfaced, his lips pulling into a smirk as one of his fingers tapped your neck, "especially when he sees you next week. because you won't be covering up those marks."

[sailorsoons]

Petrichor (k.sy)

PAIRING: Soonyoung x afab reader

SUMMARY: Waking up to the sound of rain is good - waking up to the sound of rain and Soonyoung pressed up against you is better. 

WC: 1,796

AU: Established Relationship, Slice of Life

GENRE: Smut, Hint of Fluff

WARNINGS: Explicit language, explicit sexual content including vaginal fingering, nipple play, groping (idk she’s rubbing his dick alright), sleepy/lazy sex, not somnophilia but both reader and Soonyoung are consenting adults, albeit kind of sleeping, multiple orgasms, unprotected vaginal sex 

A/N: It’s raining here and @highvern wouldn’t stop sending me pictures of Hoshi and now look at what happened. Sigh. 

A/N 2: This reader is listed as AFAB, as they are not explicitly described as using specific pronouns. No beta we die like men. 

MASTERLIST | PERMANENT TAG LIST | ASK

The smell of petrichor drags you from your sleep, eyelashes fluttering, muscles uncoiling. Rain taps against the windows, a soft buzz to accompany the cool, misty air that comes into the room. It’s still dark outside, that weird black-grey sky that precedes dawn. The windows are open, letting in the breeze and sound of rain. 

You shiver, sinking further into the bed, thoughts still a little slow and sleepy. Warmth presses up against you as Soonyoung shifts, sensing your alertness. His hand skims up your leg on instinct, reaching for you in his sleep until he settles his grip on your waist, fingers twitching slightly. 

This time when you shiver, it’s because of the warmth of his hand, the way he’s pressed himself against your back, and because you can smell the barest hint of his minty scent. 

Lightning splits the sky, quickly followed by a hum of thunder. That draws Soonyoung from his sleep, a brief moment of tenseness rippling through him before he relaxes back into drowsy awareness, arm resting across your hip possessively. 

Barely turning your head, you glance backward at him. He’s a dark silhouette against the bed, his face squished against the pillow and hair mused. His eyes are closed but he senses your tired gaze, cracking one eye open. Even in the darkest room, Soonyoung has the prettiest eyes. 

“Mmm.” His hum is low. Graveling. You shift a little, realizing just how tight he has you pulled to him. His grunt is neither a question nor a statement, it just… is. 

Soonyoung shifts behind you, bringing his mouth to your shoulder. You drop your head to the pillow, sighing as another wave of cool wind kisses your skin just as he brushes his mouth against you. 

A sound gets stuck in the back of your throat. You’re caught between the rain-kissed wind coming in from the windows and the blazing heat of Soonyoung’s mouth lazily making its way across the back of your shoulder toward your neck. 

On instinct, you tilt to make room for him, giving him access that he didn’t ask for. He chuckles and it’s deep and throaty, making your toes curl. Of course he realizes how pliant you’ve turned, of course he’s amused that this wasn’t going anywhere to start, and suddenly, it is. 

Soonyoung’s grip on your waist tightens for a split second before his hand is on the move, dragging warm, greedy fingers under the hem of your shirt and up your ribs. Your breath quickens, hands twisting in the sheets. 

You’re still somewhere stuck between awareness and sleep, a hazy place where Soonyoung’s teeth scraping against your throat before his tongue brushes over it drives you to insanity. It feels good, this slowburn fire spreading in you as Soonyoung drags his nails under the curve of your breast while his mouth an earlobe between his teeth. 

“Hnnn,” you grumble, not really words, not really a sound, but something in between. 

“Hmm?”

Soonyoung’s thumb brushes over your nipple, the warmest flick of friction and your whispered fuck is lost in a roll of thunder. Soonyoung hears it, though. Gets spurred on by it. He seems content with lazily flicking his thumb back and forth over your nipple, the action far more stimulating than normal  in this sleep-haze you’re both in. 

One of your arms reaches behind you, cool fingers pressing against his stomach. He hisses at the temperature, hot breath hitting your ear. He twitches behind you, his thumb momentarily stopping as you dip your hand lower, passing over the waistband of his sweatpants to press firmly against his hardening cock. 

It’s his turn to whine, spasming at the new pressure as you keep your hand there, unmoving. When he moves, you move. His fingers go back to tracing the peak of your nipple, your breath coming out in quiet puffs. You drag your fingers up and down his shaft, the barest hint of friction through his sweats. 

Turning your head, you let Soonyoung kiss up the edge of your jaw before he finds your mouth. The kiss is idle and soft, a mess of slow-moving tongues and gentle teeth scraping against your lips. You moan into his mouth when his hand moves to your other breast, this time pinching you sharply. 

Your hips twitch forward as lightning splashes across the room, bathing you in a momentary flash of light. You can’t see Soonyoung but you know his cheeks are flushed by now, skin over-warm as he gets a little more desperate, hips twitching against you and breath getting a little quicker. 

Still, he knows how to pace himself. Instead of peeling down his sweats and prying you open like he wants to, his fingers leave your chest to dance down the soft curve of your stomach, snapping the band of your underwear playfully before he goes for what he’s really after. 

Soonyoung’s fingers find the damp warmth between your legs. He lets out a loud groan, breaking your uncoordinated kiss to bury his face in your neck. His fingers are devilish and inquisitive, pressing against your panties briefly before pulling them aside to expose you to his seeking hand. 

“Soonyoung,” you mumble, though it comes out more as a hiss. His fingers drift up and down your cunt, gathering the arousal there before swirling his fingers around your clit. “Hmmm.”

He peppers kisses over your shoulder and neck as he plays with you. There’s no rhythm or pattern to his ministrations, almost like he’s lost in the wet sensation of you on his fingers, hypnotized by the warmth he finds when he presses a finger into your entrance, intrigued. 

You clench around him and mutter his name again, your hand squeezing his cock at the feeling. He grins against your shoulder - you can feel the curve of his smile - as he starts to finger you properly, the heel of his hand pressed against the swell of your clit, his finger sinking deep into your pussy, stroking. 

You go quiet. All you can do is pant, closing your eyes as Soonyoung pumps his finger, hooking it ever so slightly against your front wall until he feels that soft patch giveaway and your squirming against him. 

“Mhmm,” he hums, shifting behind you so that your hand falls away but he’s got a better grip on you. He pushes a knee between your legs from the back, prying you open a little to fight your clenching thighs. “Let me.” 

You do. You let him do whatever he wants, boneless in his grasp as he slides in a second finger. Soonyoung is fully awake now, fucking you on his fingers properly, the wet sounds rivalled by the pattering rain outside. 

Both of your hands tangle the sheet in front of you, twisting in them as your eyes squeeze shut, flashes of color spilling across your closed lids. Soonyoung kisses your neck messily, his hands making an equal mess of your cunt as he works you toward an orgasm, burning low and slow in the pit of your stomach. 

Your breath starts to hitch and he can feel it coming, presses a chaste kiss under your ear as he chases it, fingers fucking into that spot over and over and over and - 

When you come, another roll of thunder drowns out your cry. You’re left shaking against the pillow, face hidden and lungs heaving. Soonyoung keeps his fingers steady through your high, only slowing as you come down until you relax entirely, bodily uncoiling. 

There’s a wet schlick when he pulls his fingers from your entrance. You don’t care and there’s not much time to think about it as he shoves his sweats down to his thighs, patting your leg with hands sticky from your orgasm to ask you to open up.

Wordlessly, you do. You hike up your leg to let Soonyoung press the thick head of his cock into your entrance, the pressure firm but good. He lingers only for a second, letting your pussy flutter around the intrusion before he’s sinking in, both of you moaning and falling apart at the feeling. 

You hook your leg over his, too lazy to hold it up. It’s not the most comfortable but it works as Soonyoung presses his cock all the way in until he’s hips-to-ass with you, deep enough that it steals the breath from your lungs. 

For a few moments, he stays there like that, fully seated in your heat as you twitch around him. He brings up his hand to your face, sticky and heady with your scent as he tilts you to face him. He steals your lips in spit-slicked kisses, his tongue eager against yours. 

When you groan, sucking his tongue into your mouth, he begins to move. The pace is slow but deliberate, each punch of Soonyoung’s hips enough to make you gasp into his mouth. You break the kiss, unable to concentrate on both, brows furrowing and mouth parted as you breathe hard. 

He doesn’t mind, letting your head loll back onto the pillow as he busies his mouth elsewhere, tracing the curve of your shoulder and the delicate slope of your neck. It is heaven. You’re barely aware of the way the rain has picked up outside, or the way the apartment shakes when it thunders. All you can focus on is the slide of his cock, the heat of his mouth and the pressure in your stomach. 

Soonyoung knows you’re already close. You’ve always been easier to please when you’re tired like this, so easy to peel apart and pull pleasure from. His fingers slip between your legs again, keeping you trembling as he finds your clit and circles it lazily, pressing his fingers hard for the added pressure you need. 

It fucks you up. He’s hardly fucking you into next week like he often likes to do, but this lazy snap of his hips, the rough press of his fingers, the messy heat of his mouth - it’s enough to send you melting into another orgasm, coming around him harder than the first time. 

Lucky for you, your cunt squeezes Soonyoung so hard he comes undone without warning, hissing as his fingers go still, hips twitching. A string of raspy expletives drip from his mouth until he’s panting, spent and just as dazed as you are. 

Thunder rolls through the room again, but you barely hear it over the thudding over your own heart and the way sleep whispers to come close, to give in. 

“Sleep,” Soonyoung mutters, sighing against you. He doesn’t pull out, doesn’t make any move to separate your bodies. “Clean in the morning.”

“Kay.” You sigh, drifting. “Love you.”

“Love you.” 

You fall asleep to the sound of rain and the smell of petrichor. 

PERMANENT TAG LIST

@ddaddunugu @ourkivee @tie-nn @thesunsfullmoon @stray-bi-kids @ldysmfrst @thepoopdokyeomtouched @eoieopda @onlywon4u @hopeless-foolery @iamawkwardandshy @gyuguys @codeinebelle @ateez-atiny380 @bultaereume @yoongznme @kaitieskidmore97 @coffee-addict-kitten @gyubakeries @archivistworld @asyre @kaepjjangiya @fancypeacepersona @beckyloveshannie @imujings @do-you-remember-summer-127 @jbluen @mingumis @kimsaerom @imlonelydontsendhelp @eunyi @smiileflower

[undercvrfan444]

Description! Pt.2 to Bully!Satoru

Warnings! 18+, AFAB, mentions of female genitalia, kind of creepy gojo (oops), smut, fingering, probably more but Idk

Authors Note! I hope you guys like this, I have other ideas too so stay tuned because i’ll prob post those within the next few days! 💙

Bully!Satoru who would knock whatever book you were reading out of your hands. The pages would mesh together and you’d lose your spot causing you to frown. “You’re such a jerk!” You’d say to him and all you’d get was a wink in response.

Bully!Satoru who enjoyed writing disgusting and downright horrible things about you on post it notes just to slip them in your bag so you’d find them at home. He knew you read the comments because when you’d come to school the next day it was always hard for you to keep eye contact with him like normal. Your agitated responses would be mere whispers instead of your usual brave demands.

Bully!Satoru who watched as rain started to pour viscously outside and spotted the pretty pink umbrella tucked neatly in the side of your backpack. He couldn’t help himself. He needed his sweet bunny to do without so he could swoop in and save the day! Taking the umbrella, he was forcing you to soak your clothes in order for him to offer his own umbrella. You should already know he would peak down to see the way your uniform clung to your body and how the bra you wore did a poor job at hiding how cold you were.

Bully!Satoru who was surrounded by girls at lunch and noticed one day how you seemed to be bothered by it. Later on when he pulled your beautifully crafted braid out of your head you simply…ignored him.

Bully!Satoru who internally was intrigued by your reaction. Seeing his sweet bunny get so bothered by him receiving attention from other females managed to turn him on more than he expected.

Bully!Satoru who notices when you’re out of school for a few days after your little fit and asks your friends why you’ve been gone. They inform him that you’re sick and would most likely be missing the worksheets you’d need. Satoru knew how dedicated you are to your studies and took it upon himself to bring those papers by your house. How he got your address? Don’t worry about it.

Bully!Satoru who showed up after school that day and knocked on your door. You answer in a simple hoodie and shorts that has Satoru salivating like a dog; his eyes raking up your legs with no shame. “Aren’t you gonna let me in? I have all your work which i’m sure you’ll need some help with.”

Shy!Reader who lets Satoru into their house and tells her mom she and a friend are going upstairs to study. Yet the moment your bedroom door closes Satoru pulls you against his chest and gropes you through the fabric. He coos in your ear and shushes you when you try to protest “Oh cmon sweet girl. Be nice and let me have my reward for doing a good deed yeah?”

His slender fingers cup your breasts over your shirt and he moves one large hand down to run a hand smooth over your ass. His lips brushed against your ear as he left featherlight kisses. “Is this what you think of when you’re all alone? My hands feeling your body up while I whisper nasty things in your ear? Hmm?”

Bully!Satoru who teased you unwavering for what seems forever about being jealous of some stupid girls. “They’re just jealous of you baby. You get all my attention while I leave those girls high and dry don’t you know?” He loves hearing you whimper while and slips his cold hands under your clothes and inspects you further.

Bully!Satoru who scanned your room quickly until something caught his eye. A small pile of neatly folded colorful post it notes tucked into a container on your desk. His tongue clicking down at you and chuckling lowly in your ear. “Oh come now. Y/n! I never would have taken you for such a dirty girl…but that’s what you want people to think right? That you’re a goody two shoes that would never dream of having sex before marriage. Yet here you are with a pile of my horny little notes that you’ve been collecting while you writhe and moan from my hands touching you.”

Bully!Satoru who wants to eat you alive. His teeth sink down into your neck leaving a blooming purple patch on a rather exposed piece of skin. “S-Satoru! That hurt!” Is all you can seem to cry out while he slips his hand lower into your shorts, rubbing his fingers over your panties.

He sits on your bed gently and pulls you into his lap, knocking your legs apart so each leg stretches over his. He already slipped your shorts off and has you tightly against his chest where you swear you can feel his heart racing. “Be a good girl for me and stay quiet. We can’t have your parents knowing how wet their daughter gets by having her bully knuckle deep in her little pussy.”

Shy!Reader that swears she’s going crazy as her head spins. Small pants and groans escape from your lips while he fucks his fingers in and out of you harshly. Obscene squelching noises fill your ears as you listen to him bury his fingers in your sopping pussy. “Please! Toru’ m-more.” The words shock both you and the boy behind you when they come out. Satoru stops his movements inside you and forces your head up so you look him in the eyes.

“That feel good baby?” You nod the best you can with his hand holding your jaw. “Tsk tsk, I didn’t expect this from you sweet girl. You’ve already made such a mess on my lap i’m not sure I can continue without your parents asking question when I go downstairs.” His words cause you to whine out loudly and he pulls his fingers out of you completely.

Your eyes widen at the sudden loss of his touch. “N-no please! Satoru I want…I want you to touch me!” Frantically you whisper up to him while frustrated tears fall from your eyes at being neglected.

Satoru smiles at you for a second before licking his fingers clean of your slick. The sight making you squirm and try to close your legs.

“Mm, such a needy thing. I hate to leave you like this but it’s getting so late.” He snickers behind you and you know he’s doing this to prove a point and nothing more. He pulls your legs closer together and lifts you so you’re lying against your pillows. He presses a small kiss against your lips before standing again.

Bully!Satoru who bends down and pockets the panties he ripped off of you previously. “Call me if you have any questions about the work yeah? I’m sure we could set up a study session soon.”

With that he left your room and you heard him say bye to your parents downstairs before the front door closes.

The next day with Bully!Satoru at school who barely looks at you throughout the day and keeps the teasing to a minimum causing you to get frustrated and feel the heat in your panties grow. The purple hickey Satoru had gifted you was covered with makeup the best you could do and occasionally you’d swipe your fingers over the spot.

Bully!Satoru who pulled you aside during lunch and wrangled you into an empty broom closet so he could attack your lips. “Look so pretty today baby. You really should stop staring at me so much or else someone might get the wrong idea. Someone might think you actually enjoy my teasing.”

[xiaoriae]

TERMS OF ENDEARMENT.

pairing. neuvillette & wriothesley x gn!reader (separate) ★ genre. established relationship au & fluff. ★ wc. 1.2k

synopsis. calling out the fontaine men by their pet names!

contents. pet names (reader's: dear, darling, etc.), lovestruck neuvillette :( , may contain an inaccurate description of the melusine's tail bcs i'm dumb, a really minimal spoiler from the 4.0 archon quest (regarding hydro dragon and rain) in neuvillette's, mention of sedene (the melusine outside neuvie's office), neuvillette just wants his kith >:( , wriothesley might be ooc bcs we all love him despite not knowing him yet, mentions of sigewinne in wrio's, made-up [1] fontaine law and background setting, and an assumption of sigewinne is the one who often treats wrio's injuries(?).

a/n. first, idk who to pull for; either neuvi or wrio bcs i alr have hydro and cryo dps :cries: but srsly, the v4.1 trailer has me on my knees for these two men (in a respectful manner of course).

support banner and animated line dividers by @/cafekitsune on tumblr.

ִ ࣪𖤐 𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄

neuvillete would never admit it out loud.

how you left him in awe every time he heard you calling out for his attention—monsieur neuvillette in a formal setting, but instead referring him as neuvie when in private.

something about it had always made neuvillette's chest just a little bit tightened at the way the name rolled off your tongue oh-so-eloquently, and he often found himself staring at your lips a second longer than what everyone would consider as appropriate.

oh, how he would love to peck your lips, feeling them against his, even for a brief moment.

it was an embarrassing thought sitting at the little corner of his mind. he was ashamed at how easily you had him on your mercy.

"neuvie," your voice came out a tad bit softer after seeing him spacing out—in which was totally not a norm to see him staring far ahead and at you, though not until recently.

"are you alright, love?"

he swore he felt his heart dropped. it was a double kill to him, who recently figured out that he loved you more than he initially thought he would. how endearing of you to call him with such names, it was cute. a perfect adjective to describe you.

"nothing, dear," his voice resonated through the room, and you realised how he looked at the perfect weather illuminating his office through the window.

you looked at him back, skeptical as to why the corner of his mouth seemed to form a fine curve, but you shrugged the feeling as soon as it came. maybe he was happy, considering the sunny and chilly weather outside.

and his feeling mattered to you the most.

"monsieur neuvillette," you called him out again.

this time, neuvillette could barely hide the frown that was about to form on his face. why did you call him that? why the sudden change of attitude? he was confused. especially when he felt the soft touches on his hair.

you were patting his head, occasionally fixing his hair as neuvillette slightly leaned in to feel the warmth only you could exude.

"it is about time for today's trial, chief justice. lady furina must have been waiting for you at the opera house," you gently reminded him, feeling the way his shoulders tensed.

oh—how stupid of him, he thought. he finally understood why you called him by his title, there was sedene all along at the door.

the melusine looked at both of you in amusement, he could tell by the way her tail was wagging.

"another minute, dear?" his voice was low enough, seemingly to avoid the melusine's attention as he sighed.

you beamed a small smile at him, making neuvillette felt ten times heavier to let go of you and go to the court. "no, neuvie," you rubbed soft circles at the back of his hand, and neuvillette fought the urge to intertwine his finger with yours.

he fought the urge to kiss you on your lips—his name sounded so precious coming out from you. it actually pained his heart at how irreplaceable you were in his life. 

"after the court session is over, we can cuddle all we want, yeah?" you pecked his cheek, and neuvillette thought he could die happily if this was the treatment he would get—a reward worth billions of mora if this was what you gave him from cherishing and loving you.

and he would love to hear and love you forever.

ִ ࣪𖤐 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

inside the fortress of meropide, the only person that could make wriothesley's burdens felt lighter was you, and only you. to see that you enjoyed your time being here—although the fortress was everything except fun and colours—and sometimes helped sigewinne with her infirmary stuff, he felt a part of him was proud at how kind and brave you were. 

wriothesley loved looking at you teasing and babying sigewinne. it was another trait that made him clicked with you so well—despite his profession and the countless dangers he might have brought along.

he remembered the first time you insisted to tag along with him to the infamous underwater prison. no one could enter and exit the fortress whenever they wanted, and you managed to prove him wrong. now that your reputation was well-known within the area, it seemed that the law on permitting outsiders to get into the fortress with thorough screening process didn't really seem to be applicable to you.

every garde recognised you. every staff and people and melusine alike—all had acknowledged you in their work space.

so when you introduced yourself as wriothesley's other half, it was understandable that your name made it in the headlines and became the monthly issue from the steambird.

'after all, the duke doesn't really seem to be the lover type, isn't he?'

"hi, handsome," you waved at wriothesley, who seemed to just finish with an interrogation session with one of the criminals. a stack of papers was in his grip.

his eyes widened at the way you called him with that word which often failed to not make his heart thumped against his chest.

"good evening, darling," he scoffed when he felt the way his voice almost cracked. the random terms of endearment you threw at him had always made his actions cut short and his words to be stuck in his throat. "what are you doing here? did i not say to go back home at 5? it is late."

"mhm," you hummed.

pointing at the clipboard in your right hand which wriothesley had realised was there all along, you explained yourself. "was running an errand for sigewinne. the poor nurse had some troubles so i lent a hand or two," you said while tapping wriothesley's shoulder thrice, feeling proud of yourself for contributing a cent around the fortress.

you then involuntarily fixed his tie, still giving him the proud smile you often wore.

wriothesley sent you a soft smile at that, contradicting the multitude of scars littered across his body.

of course his favourite person was the one who was kind enough to help sigewinne—it was as if you silently repaid sigewinne's past deeds of treating his injuries. how could anyone would not love you for that, he thought.

your heart swelled at the sight. your partner was quite soft at heart when he smiled, despite the roughness he portrayed.

you were staring at his face with those sparkles he never knew could exist in one's eyes. it was too much, but wriothesley thought he would just mentally appreciate the pure loving look you gave him.

"this will do. now my man looks dashing as always."

it took him exactly three seconds to understand what you meant. you were fixing his appearance, and he felt his face became a little bit warmer. my man, he unconsciously repeated the words in his mind.

if sigewinne saw the two of you being so lovey dovey in public—well, maybe both of you were done for.

"the gesture is very much appreciated, darling," he chuckled.

"you are very welcome, sir," you replied, mimicking the small chuckles he sent towards you.

"since both of us have already worked overtime, let us grab a bite?" you swung your arm around his, interlocking with the arm that often held you with such gentleness.

"alright," wriothesley gave in to your suggestion, long forgotten where he should be heading before crossing his path with you. "let us go on a date."

all rights reserved © xiaoriae 2023 strictly on tumblr only. any form of wrongdoings under the copyright law is strictly prohibited.

[triptuckers]

I've got you - percy jackson

Request: yeah! "percy x fem!reader are on an unofficial quest together just before the big titan war (so set just before last olympian). idk what the quest is but basically reader gets injured during a fight w a bunch of monsters and percy goes a little crazy and does everything he can to protect her and once all the monsters are dead he’s super gentle and sweet w her??" Pairing:  Percy Jackson x reader Summary:  you're busy battling a handful of monsters when for a second it looks as if it might be your last fight. luckily, percy is there Warnings:  fighting, mentions of blood, injuries, swearing, angst Word count:  1K A/N: the show creators need to add grover's song from ep3 to spotify because it's been stuck in my head since wednesday. thanks for your request, enjoy!

gods forbid you're ever on a quiet quest.

you can't wait to get this over with so you can go back to camp and actually get a decent amount of undisturbed sleep.

the other kids at camp are probably spending their afternoon relaxing, or polishing their weapons, or sitting by the lake, or literally anything that's peaceful. not you and percy.

you're busy getting rid of at least half a dozen monsters.

percy's is in the distance, fighting his way through a couple of monsters. he's a blur of movement and you occasionally hear him curse or make a sound.

you know percy can handle himself. but it doesn't stop you from looking over your shoulder every once in a while, to check on him.

the second time you try to catch a glimpse of percy, it's a mistake.

you feel something sharp sink into your side.

with one swing of your sword you decapitate the monster, but not before his fang breaks off, still stuck in your leg.

'oh fuck.' you mutter as you see blood start to gush out of the wound around the fang.

but there's no time to rest. another monster lashes out at you, raking his claws through your shoulder.

you yell out in pain, getting percy's attention.

you drive your sword through the monster just as percy starts running toward you.

'fuck.' you mutter, looking at your leg.

well, that doesn't look good. you know demigods don't live long. but you would have liked some more time with percy. preferably when you don't have to fight monsters.

'y/n!' yells percy, who has nearly reached you.

'percy...' you say as he catches you before you fall to the ground.

'shit, hold on.' says percy. he carefully lowers you to the ground in his arms. there's a panicked look in his eyes as he looks at your leg.

he quickly reaches down and tears off a piece of his shirt.

'percy!' you yell, looking at a monster that's running towards the two of you at full speed.

with one swift motion, percy slices through the monster with his sword, then he drops it and turns back to you.

he pulls you towards him and wraps the piece of his shirt around your thigh, above your wound.

'how many behind me?' he says.

you look over his shoulder, quickly counting the monsters that are making their way to you. it doesn't look good. 'seven.'

'sorry.'

'wait, for what-'

you're cut off as percy pulls the knot tight, sending a sharp pain through your leg.

'fuck! percy!' you curse.

'I said sorry. stay here do not pull that out.' says percy, pointing at the fang that's still stuck in your leg. he presses a quick kiss to your forehead before turning around and charging the monsters.

you knew percy could fight but holy shit.

it's like he moves with unnatural speed as he works his way through the monsters, making sure none of them slip past him to you.

even more so, he makes it look easy. almost god-like.

when you overheard someone from your cabin say that he's the most powerful demigod of your generation, you thought "sure he's a poseidon kid, it makes sense". you hadn't really thought much of it.

to you percy had always been, well, percy.

he always makes you laugh with bad jokes and saves you a spot at the campfire. he'll walk with you to your cabin if it's raining so you wouldn't get soaked. he prefers to sleep with you next to him, claiming it's so he won't get nightmares, but you know it's because he just wants to use you as his pillow.

but as you see him fighting off the monsters, lashing out and stabbing them like it's nothing, you realise what others see when they look at him.

suddenly percy is in front of you again, brushing monster dust off of his shoulder like it's no big deal.

'you okay?' he says, kneeling in front of you. he reaches out to gently cup your face.

you're silent as you look at him.

'y/n?' he says, looking you in your eyes, brows furrowed.

'did I mention I'm like, really really in love with you?' you say.

percy smiles briefly. 'yeah you've mentioned it.' he says. 'how are you feeling?'

'lucky to have you on my side.'

'I meant your leg, y/n.' he says, moving so he can inspect your leg.

'still hurts.'

'that shoulder also looks bad.' says percy. 'listen, I'll pull the fang out and give you nectar but it will still hurt, okay? then we'll look at your shoulder.'

'alright, make it quick.'

percy nods, then hands you some nectar.

'want me to count down?' he asks.

you nod, reaching out to take one of his hands in yours.

percy wraps his free hand around the fang.

you take a deep breath and nod at percy.

percy looks you in the eye and gives you an encouraging smile. 'sorry in advance. 3... 2... 1!'

with one swift motion he pulls the fang out. blood gushes out of the wound and the pain is unbearable. you close your eyes and feel how percy gently pushes the nectar to you and you take a sip.

it tastes like the drink sally made for you when you visited percy's home for the first time.

you keep your eyes closed as you wait for the pain to go away. you can feel percy rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, comforting you.

'it's already helping.' says percy softly.

you reach out and wrap your arms around percy.

'it's okay. I've got you.' says percy, holding you close. 'we can sit here for a while, but then we have to keep moving, okay?'

'okay.' you say, feeling percy press a kiss to your forehead.

you're really glad percy's here with you. if it weren't for him, you're not sure you would have made it back to camp in one piece, or at all.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit/Max

[wandanatskitten]

I feel like this is a good trailer to a story idk. But like Dom/CEO!WandaNat who is obsessed with you and only wants you to need them. And I love a good corruption kink. I think that would fit. But anyway, I hope you enjoy this little story :))

Also thank you to the new followers and likes. I know I disappeared for a few months, but I see you guys 🫶

18+ nothing too crazy just pet names and mentions of sex

Trailer pt.2

Imagine Wanda and Natasha noticing you for the first time. Seeing you innocently wait for the bus that takes you to your college campus. A light rain pouring down as you bundle yourself in a hefty sweater. Tapping your toes in a puddle with classic yellow rain boots on. Their view comes to a short halt as the bus arrives but resumes when you sit near the back window. Before you could part, their curiosity gets the best of them as they instruct their driver.

Wanda: Follow that bus.

Natasha: You read my mind.

They keep their distance for two weeks. Gathering intel, becoming knowledgeable of your daily activities. Your biggest pattern is a local cafe only a few blocks from your campus. You go there everyday around 2:15pm and leave back to campus by 3:00pm. So when they finally enter the cafe, Wanda and Natasha already have planned exactly how to approach you. Natasha, sitting in the cafe, watches as Wanda bumps into you and spills your drink. It coats her designer more than your thrifted clothes and the guilt in your voice makes the rest too easy. Natasha jumps in to help clean the mess and ease the tension, while Wanda talks away your embarrassment. Two beautiful women put out the bait and you unknowingly bit the line.

Natasha: Here Wands, I got some napkins.

Wanda: Thank you.

Y/n: I am so sorry, I’m such a clutz.

Natasha: Don’t worry so is she. How bout I get you another drink, this time on me.

Y/n: Oh no I couldn’t-

Natasha: I insist.

Everything felt fated when you were with them since that moment. Little did you know the two women were calculated with every move they made. Paying for your coffee but purposely spilling it. That was only the starting line. Causing problems that only they could fix. Every time something went wrong, they would be there to make it right. Giving you a sense fear and loneliness when they weren’t there but balancing it with feelings of hope and dependency when they were with you. Imprinting their own twisted form of Stockholm into your brain.

Natasha: See kitten, this is why you don’t go out without us. Who else is going to protect you?

Wanda: You’re just a helpless little thing huh? You need us to keep you safe, right bunny?

*You nod and lean into their embrace*

Wanda and Natasha felt warm and safe. Soft hands paired with a firm touch made you feel loved and desired. And there was nothing you craved more than the feeling of being wanted by the redhead and brunette. The feeling of Wanda’s hands holding you firmly to the mattress as you squirmed from the intensity you felt with Natasha’s lips kissing every inch of your body. They knew you were impatient and smirked regardless because your impatience stemmed from your desperation. The desperation you felt between your thighs when Natasha instructs you with a low rasp in her voice. The neediness that pained you when Wanda would stop the curl of her fingers just before you could reach your climax. She loved the sounds of your whimpers as you grew closer and closer to the edge. And the absolute submission you reveled in when both women would watch and comment as if you couldn’t hear. You touch yourself, knowing you’d receive no real relief unless one of them was trapped between your thighs. But you loved their power hungry eyes as they shifted into a faux pity. Because since the beginning you would become helpless without them.

Natasha: Keep those pretty eyes open, kitten. Or else I stop.

Wanda: Keep crying for me, bunny. I promise I’ll let you cum this time.

Wanda: Look at how wet our little pet is.

Natasha: Mhm, and watch how her eyes beg us to touch her. The poor thing can’t cum without one of us buried in her cunt.