#and you can cut lead with a knife

[therightvillainouschapbooks]

"Tannakin Skinker" - a "loathly lady" folk talk and ballad (you might have seen the woodcut around here with the pig-faced lady saying "ouch")

linocut and letterpress, 2023

[heartorbit]

the star you've longed for

[luveline]

hotch's little sister x spencer perhaps?

—Hotch’s sister graduates college, and Spencer is immediately smitten. fem, 1.6k

“She’s pregnant.” Emily shakes her bag of chips around. “But it’s not his baby.” 

Spencer frowns down at his sandwich. Rye bread is hard to cut, and the plastic knife isn’t putting up a good fight. “That’s awful,” he says. “He must be heartbroken.” 

“He’s distraught. Now he can’t decide if he wants to stay and raise the new baby with their first, or leave her and have split custody.” 

“What channel did you say it was on?” 

“It’s on NightDrama. I’ll find out the number.” 

Emily folds the empty packet of chips into a rectangle, then that rectangle into a triangle, folding the edges inside of a fold to create a parcel perfect for flicking at him. Spencer waits for it, tensing, but what he sees behind Emily steals his attention. 

She whips her head to follow him. 

You are, as Spencer watches you walk in, without a doubt one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen. And it’s not like you’re a model, you don’t walk with any such confidence, but it strikes him immediately. You’re pretty. And he’s never seen you in the office before. 

They get visitors occasionally but the majority of people so deep into this office would've been checked at security and cleared to come up here. You hold a visitors badge in your hand, which you promptly clip onto your shirt when you see people looking at you. Your frown makes you prettier. Something about the way you stand seems familiar, but Spencer can’t put his finger on what it is. 

“Should we go help?” Emily asks. 

“Who do you think she’s for?” Spencer asks back. He’s thinking you’re here to speak to JJ. They have people like this occasionally who JJ knows from past cases, drifting in on a hope that there’s more detail to be found. 

Emily stands up from her chair. Spencer follows suit. When you see her facing toward you, some of your apprehension melts into relief. 

“Hi,” you say breathily, summoning a smile that, again, seems familiar. Not in looks, but practise, maybe. 

“Hi there, can we help? You look lost,” Emily says. 

She sounds more friendly than Spencer could’ve hoped to achieve. He doesn’t even wanna think about it, from how pretty you are he would’ve stumbled over even the most basic hello. 

“I’m here to see Aaron Hotchner. He told me his office is up the stairs, is that still one of these ones,” —you nod gently at the stairs that do, in fact, lead to his office— “or somewhere else?” 

“That’s the right one, the very first door.” 

“Okay,” you give a soft laugh. “Thank you. This place makes me nervous.” 

You leave to travel up the steps. Emily and Spencer watch without any casualness as you approach Hotch’s office door, and give a little knock. 

It’s more surprising to see it tugged open so quickly after. Hotch usually says, “Come in.” 

“Oh, you’re here,” Hotch says. It’s to Spencer’s shock and Emily’s clear joy when he leans in for a hug. The bearhug kind, no politeness or manners about their intimidating boss as his arms cross behind your shoulders and he pulls you in. “You’re late.” He squeezes you. 

You let it happen. “I hate your building.” 

“What the hell?” Emily whispers. 

“I’m so happy to see you. Come on, come in, I ordered lunch for us already.” 

Emily is shameless. She takes Spencer by the wrist and encourages him to the wall below Hotch’s office as he ushers you inside. The door remains ajar, perfect for snooping, and Spencer doesn’t know what it is but he lets Emily drag him forward anyhow. 

“If that’s his girlfriend, he should be ashamed,” Emily whispers. 

Spencer raises his brows. “Did you think that was romantic?” 

“I’ve never seen him show affection to anyone who wasn’t Haley, and when was the last time she was here?” 

Spencer tosses it around in his mind. Sure, it was quite affectionate by Hotch’s standards, but the hug was so… uncareful. He’d grabbed you and hugged you like he was gonna shake you around for fun, like a dad hugs his daughter. “How old is Hotch?” Spencer asks. 

“You don’t think that’s his secret kid.” 

“No,” Spencer says, though he sort of does. 

Emily gestures for him to hush as your laugh drifts down from the office. “You did?” you’re asking. “It’s so nice to be home.” 

“Of course I did. It’s like I promised, okay? You finished college like I asked you too, you’ve done so well, and now I’m gonna make sure you’re happy. Like I tried to do for Sean.” 

“Sean,” you sigh. “He didn’t even answer my grad card.” 

“I don’t know what to say about him, I really don’t.” 

A small pause. “Well, at least you answered.” 

“You know I would’ve come to watch you walk–”

“But you couldn’t. It’s fine, Aaron, I wasn’t really expecting you to make it.” 

“I’m sorry. Really. And I’m proud of you, after everything.”

“Thank you… The bag was better than you being there anyways. Coach?” You laugh breathily. “My friends keep asking me if you can be their big brother too.” 

Emily and Spencer turn to each other, mouths agape, Emily slapping his arm as they struggle to make no noise. Since when does Aaron have a sister? A young sister freshly graduated? 

Hotch laughs too. “Come and sit before your lunch gets cold.” 

Emily gets out her phone to text Morgan, she and Spencer pressed to the wall with their heads ducked. Hotch is a total enigma, because what the hell sort of secret is that?

When Morgan appears, it’s with all the answers. He rolls his eyes at their clear position of eavesdropping but leans against Emily’s desk to give them the information they’re craving anyways. “She’s adopted. Hotch was already in college at the time, but they’re close. They get along a lot better than Hotch does with Sean, that’s for sure.” 

“He sounds protective,” Emily says, side-eying the office. 

“Look, it’s not my business, but I just know it was bad when she was a teenager. Hotch is a drill sergeant for a reason.” Ah, Spencer thinks. The Hotchner father. 

Spencer picks at his hands. It explains the conversation he shouldn’t have been listening to, to a degree. He feels the guilt of knowing something he wasn’t meant to like a sodden weight, retreating swiftly to his desk and his forgotten sandwich.

It’s nice to hear Hotch laughing, but it’s your laugh that draws him in again while he tries so hard not to listen. It’s as attractive to Spencer as your frown had been when you walked in. He thinks about how you finished college, how you’re here, and he wonders if he’ll see more of you —how often will you come in for lunch? Spencer checks his hair in his sleeping monitor and feels like an idiot. 

“I’m sorry,” Hotch says a little while later, elbowing open the door with his back to the office, “we’ll have dinner soon, honey, I promise.” 

You reach up to give him another quick hug. “It’s fine. It’s just nice to be in the same city again.” 

Hotch guides you down to the bullpen with the same pride with which he introduced Jack. It’s unmissable, the love he has for you in just one touch against your shoulder. “Y/N,” he says, pausing at the bullpen, “Derek Morgan you’ve met. This is Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid.” 

“Spencer Reid?” you ask suddenly, looking up into Hotch’s face like he’s lying, your brows pulled together in indignation, before you turn back to Spencer reverently. “You’re Dr. Spencer Reid?” 

He gets caught on his own breath. “Uh, yes?” 

“The Dr. Spencer Reid who wrote Methods of Continued Fraction Expansions?” 

Spencer feels heat like a kiss to each cheek. “Yes.” 

You turn to Hotch with a suspicious pout. “When I told you about the paper I was reading by a Dr. Reid a few months ago, you didn’t stop to think it could be your Dr. Reid? Or you just don’t like me?” 

That’s a sister’s scorn if Spencer’s ever heard it. 

“I thought you said Rain.” 

“I don’t think you did.” You turn back to Spencer. “I can’t believe it, I emailed you about Jacobi elliptical functions, you were so helpful, I owe you my degree.” You put your hand out with a beaming, beautiful smile, Spencer’s stomach totally flips. “It’s amazing to meet you in person.” 

He’s a germaphobe, he is, and that doesn’t just go away when you meet someone lovely, but he shakes your hand. You surprise him too quickly to think beyond taking your hand letting it happen. You’re, like, glowing. 

Hotch gives him a funny look. Mostly impassive, but not quite. 

Spencer abruptly lets you go. “I don’t think you would’ve needed my help to get there in the end. You clearly knew what you were doing.”  

Hotch’s eyebrows silently rise. 

You turn back to Hotch again, your smile catching. “I like your friends.” 

He smiles. “Let me walk you down to the lobby, honey.” 

You let him guide you away, giving the present members of the BAU a wave with just your fingers before you go. 

Morgan and Emily look at him heavily. “Spencer,” Emily says. “What was that?” 

He doesn’t want to say what he thinks it was, so he doesn’t. “She was nice.” 

Morgan’s laughter is immediate. Spencer has to walk off to the kitchen for a cup of tea he doesn’t drink to escape him and the connotation of his laughing. Spencer hopes he’ll see you again soon, though if he’s half a good a profiler as he thinks he is, he might end up in trouble with your brother.

[criminalamnesia]

Simon x Reader whose already work with TF 141 for a pretty long time. And one day, there's a traitor around the base, leaking their information. All of the proof are leading to reader but reader always deny it! And they interrogated reader, and reader always deny it! And he's (with other 141 members, of course, but it mostly him) do their torture methods to get information out of reader. They keep doing it until someday, the real traitor finally captured!

And make the reader traumatized, pls. Like, she would have trust issues, trauma, and others. She wouldn't forgive them, tho.

ooooo the angst. had to sit on this one for a few days before I wrote something, but here goes nothing.

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

when you blink open your eyes, the room is dimly lit. it’s silent save for the sounds of your labored breathing.

you must’ve passed out. one second johnny— a man you’d known for years—was slicing into your skin with a knife. the next, you’re staring into an empty room.

your hands jerk up involuntarily. still bound. the rope holding them to the arms of the chair have rubbed them raw. the skin is bright red and bloody. it makes you grit your teeth.

you look down at your lap, taking inventory of the parts of your body you can see. large gashes break up the fabric of your tac pants. the blood surrounding the deep wounds is dry and crusty.

one of the cuts looks like it’s getting infected. you swear you can see bone.

you’d taken this kind of suffering before. been capture by enemies, held and tortured and pushed to the brink of death. this was different. this was being done by your team. men you’d bled with. cried with. laughed with.

one you’d even slept with. the same one you loved. the one you called yours.

the door to the room swung open, hitting the wall with a metal thud. your head slowly lifts, eyes squinting to see him. by his stature, you know it’s simon.

he doesn’t bother shutting the door behind him. instead, he walks towards you slowly. as he comes closer, can make out his eyes in the sea of dark paint he smears around them. the same paint you’d helped him apply a time or two.

“back for more?” you say, and it’s meant to sound sarcastic, but all it sounds like is pitiful. your voice cracks, and pain seeps into your tone.

the first rule they’d taught you about scenarios like this was to never let the enemy know it’s working. never let them know that they’re hurting you— that they’re slowly wearing down your defenses.

well, you’d just broken that rule, and you hadn’t even meant to.

you didn’t know how long you’d been tied up, subjected to torture by men you had once called your family. all because a fucking liar whispered your name into their ears. all because they fucking believed it.

apparently the years meant nothing to them. to him, least of all, considering he’d done more damage to you than the rest of them.

simon comes to a stop in front of you. his hands are empty by his sides, but that’s not reassuring. there’s a table full of weapons off to the side. he would have his pick of the litter.

“ready to talk yet?” he says, and his voice is gruff. his tone is hollow. he’s speaking to you the same way he’d spoken to countless enemies. it makes you sick.

“fuck you, simon,” you spit out.

the betrayal of john, gaz, and johnny had hurt. but simon’s betrayal? that was enough to almost put you in the ground.

you’d stopped pleading with them the second they tied you to the chair. now, you were angry. furious. rage filled your veins, and if you weren’t beaten to all hell, you’d find a way out of these fucking restraints and strangle the man in front of you to death.

the man you loved. you’d thought you meant something to him, but apparently not— because who tortures someone they love?

“if you talk,” he ignores your outburst. “it’ll be easier. quick.”

“fuck. you.” you enunciate the words, your jaw impossibly tight as you grit your teeth. “im not the fucking rat.”

“all the evidence,” he starts as he disappears from your vision. you know he’s going to pick his weapon of the hour. you force yourself not to shudder.

“points to you.”

“take that bullshit evidence and shove it up your ass, riley,” you seethe, ropes pulling taut as you lean forward in the chair.

he’s back in your line of sight now, brandishing a large knife.

“you’re only making it harder on yourself, love,” he tuts, and then he’s swinging the knife down, right onto one of your fingers.

you scream as the blade cuts right through skin and bone. your teeth dig into your lip, drawing blood as you refuse to give him more of a reaction. it fucking hurts, but you’ll be damned if you let yourself cry.

“feel like talking now?” he asks, watching as half of your left pinky finger falls to the floor.

“or should we take off another?”

you look up at him, hoping he can see the hatred in your eyes as you speak your next words. “you could take the fucking hand off and I’d still have nothing to tell you.”

“let’s see how true that is then, eh?” he replies, and raises the knife again. he’s about to swing, when someone comes running into the room.

“ghost!”

it’s johnny. he’s obviously winded as he stops beside simon, dropping his hands to his knees as he struggles for breath.

“what, mactavish? im busy.”

“they’re—” he gasps. “they’re not— the— rat.” he says between breaths.

the room goes impossibly still. so quiet you swear you could hear the men’s heartbeats (or maybe that pounding in your ears was your own).

“you sure?” simon’s voice is softer as he lowers the knife and turns to johnny. the younger man nods, his eyes trained on you. you can see the regret in them, the sorrow.

“it’s fucking shepard.”

it’s not funny, but at the news, you burst into laughter. the men stare at you in confusion, but you can’t stop.

you’re laughing so hard you’re crying, and they’re just standing there.

“are you alrigh’?” johnny’s asking as he moves towards you. he’s fully recovered his breath now, and he drops to a crouch to be eye level with you.

you don’t answer— you can’t. you keep laughing. distantly, you hear the knife simon was holding clatter to the ground. can just make out the sound of more footsteps out in the hallway, coming towards the room.

you pass out.

when you wake up again, you’re in the infirmary. your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights.

“easy, love,” a voice to your right drawls.

your eyes are fully open now. you look down at yourself, noticing the lack of bindings. noticing the iv taped to your arm, the stitched cuts, the black and blue bruises, the missing fingernails and missing finger.

the person sitting next to you clears his throat. that’s when you look up and meet the eyes of your captain.

your captain. the man who was supposed to lead you, to keep you safe. what a fucking joke. he’d started the damn witch hunt.

“how d’you feel?” he asks, his words soft, like he’s trying not to scare off a timid animal.

you stare at him for a beat. then two. then you’re moving, pulling the iv from your arm and shakily pushing yourself up in the bed. price is telling you to stop, reaching out to push you back down, but you slap at his hands.

“get the fuck off me!” you shout, and that takes him aback. he stops, frozen, as he watches you shift in the bed. you throw your legs over the side of it and prepare yourself to stand.

“you really shouldn’t—” he begins after he’s regained his senses, but you pay him no mind. you place your feet on the ground and start to stand. your legs wobble, almost give out, but you’re able to stand. barely.

“shut up,” you growl, stumbling forward and towards the exit. he’s moving to cut you off, and you slide him a gaze that’s sharper than a knife. “and leave me the fuck alone.”

he halts again. he seems almost scared of you— but that can’t be right. even on your best days, he would still beat you in hand-to-hand combat.

he’s not scared of your threats or your frail body. he’s scared of what he’s done to you.

just then, johnny and gaz come through the infirmary doors.

“cap, y’alright? we heard yellin’—” johnny begins, but his mouth snaps shut at the sight of you out of bed.

you’re heaving from your spot next to the bed. your legs are shaking violently, threatening to give out any second. you feel nauseous and numb.

“let’s get you back into bed,” gaz says, and he starts towards you, but you stop him as your gaze snaps to his.

“don’t come any fucking closer. any of you.”

“bonnie,” johnny murmurs. he sounds miserable, but you don’t care. don’t give a fuck about how any of them feel.

“don’t. im leaving,” you grunt out, moving a foot forward slowly. you’d be damned if you fell in front of them.

“you can’t, love. you’re in no shape to be walking.” john says, and you snarl.

“and whose fault is that?”

the men stay silent as they watch you slowly shuffle towards the foot of the bed. you’re bracing yourself to walk on your own when simon walks in.

“get back in bed,” his tone is blunt. you ignore him.

you remove your hand from the bed, move to take a step forward without support, and you begin to crumple to the floor.

simon moves forward, quick as a cat, and catches you. he lifts you into his arms bridal style, and you’re screaming hysterically. your limbs are flailing the best they can in such a battered state. you’re in fight-or-flight mode, your body betraying your desire to put up a steely front.

your palms slap against simon’s upper body and his masked face. he gives no reaction. he doesn’t say anything. the others are watching the exchange silently. the room is buzzing with tension.

“get off me!” you screech, landing a slap to simon’s cheek. “let me— let me go! let me go!” you’re gasping for breath, tears streaming down your cheeks. you’re panicking. your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest.

“put me down! get— get— off me! stop—” you sob.

the doctor rushes into the room then, yelling at the men for allowing you out of bed. you can’t make out what she’s saying over the rush of blood in your ears. you feel light-headed. you can’t breathe.

“put them down, now!” the doctor yells at simon. “they’re having a panic attack— I thought I told you four to stay away from them? they’re too vulnerable right now—” the doctor is chastising them as simon places you back in the bed.

spots are dancing in your vision. you don’t even feel it when the doctor sticks another needle into your arm. the words being exchanged above your head are muffled. it’s like you’re underwater.

john’s face comes into view, then johnny’s, then gaz’s. as your eyes start to close, you notice the only face you don’t see again is simon’s.

when you wake up again, it’s been two weeks.

the doctor had put you into a medically induced coma to allow your more serious wounds time to heal, without risking another episode. unbeknownst to you, the members of your team had stayed by your bedside almost the entire time— minus simon. he hadn’t come within ten feet of the infirmary since the day of your panic attack.

there’s fresh flowers on the bedside table. a steady beeping of the heart monitor. a fuzzy feeling in your head.

it feels like a dream, all of it does. none of it feels real as you settle into your body again. but then the hurt starts, and you remember the truth.

your family betrayed you. your lover betrayed you. they locked you up and tortured you. they didn’t believe you.

when the doctor came to your side to check your iv, she smiled.

“how’re you feeling?”

you look up at her, and it takes a moment for you to speak.

“don’t,” you begin. your mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. “don’t let them…in here. don’t…wanna see them.”

the doctor nods in understanding, and she doesn’t say anything else to you. she turns and walks out of the room.

the door clicks shut behind her. she lets out a sigh before turning around to face the three men.

“they don’t want to see you.” she tells them, and their expressions drop. they don’t protest, and like wounded puppies, they walk off.

no one else comes to check on you for a few hours.

you’re in and out of consciousness— can’t tell what’s real and what’s a dream. flashes of your torture come back to you. flashes of a smile. of a scarred face. of hands on your hips and—

you crack your eyes open, and the room is dark. the only light is the blinking of some of the machines. it illuminates the room enough to allow you to see a large, dark figure slip from the room. the door clicks shut so quietly it’s almost imperceptible.

that’s when you notice fresh flowers on the bedside table.

your eyes start to droop once more, and you chalk up whatever you just saw to a dream, while simon exhales heavily on the other side of the infirmary door.

————————————————

authors note:

I hope this alright! it’s one in the morning (and I’m half asleep writing this) so I apologize for the errors that are most likely present, and the sense this most likely lacks. I feel like I could write a whole book about this idea, but im cutting myself off to sleep lol.

thank you for the ask, I hope I did your idea justice. 🫶

[shotmrmiller]

your superior finding out about the secret praise kink you didn't know had a name because you'd always been called an over achiever, a goody two shoes. never gave anyone any trouble, nose burrowed in a book since you had knobby knees and a library card.

you'd thought it normal that the apples of your cheeks burned when praised after giving your teacher the drawing you'd made for them the night before. that heat spread from the center of your chest up when your first boyfriend/girlfriend whistled at the sight of you outside of uniform. that warmth settles in your belly when you get a pat on the back from your platoon leader firm enough to force the air out of your lungs because you'd disassembled and cleaned a glock with the ease of a professional.

apparently it wasn't.

after weeks of training with the fabled task force, weeks of sharing elbow room with the team, weeks of soaking up the dizzying praise from the captain ("did real good out there, eh? can always count on you." you didn't question the throb betwixt your thighs, taking care of it with a cute little bullet like you've always done since joining the military)

you're confronted by the worst of the lot. ghost catches you in a break room, your back to him, hands clutching a cup of coffee that's more sludge than liquid, its warmth barely seeping through the styrofoam.

his figure fills the doorway, shoulders nearly brushing the frame. your first thought is that his brows aren't twisted together and he lacks that cold, blank look in his eyes so your death isn't in the nearest of futures. the second is that when he's not fully covering his face, the outline of his jaw is quite visible, looking sharp enough to cut.

then he crosses his sculpted arms over his chest, seams straining against the expanse of his muscles, head tipped to the side.

he moves with the keen curiosity of a predator sniffing around a newborn fawn, gaze intense yet inquisitive, assessing your every detail with a menacing interest.

"you ever gonna tell me you've a praise kink, bird?" the question sends a chill through your veins before turning into a fiery rush as it races at twice the normal speed.

praise kink? no. surely not. doesn't everyone like to receive compliments?

"sure. i don't mind gettin' told i've an impressive cock but that's bed talk. you look ready to bend over 'nd show us how slick tha' pretty cunt can get over a rufflin' of hair and a couple of empty words."

that has you positively reeling, fingertips cracking the cup in your hands, pulse on your neck fluttering. you feel a cornered, skittish animal, ready to flee lest your life come to an end in his maws.

but as usual, the cruel man more creature than person, twists the knife he's dug into you with a certain ruthlessness only he can muster.

"so be good for me, eh? love your praise? earn it."

you've always been an over achiever, proven once again by the way you take him to the root in one long, broad stroke with any complaints at the sheer size of him resting firmly behind your clenched teeth.

"tight little thing, spread open over me like you were meant for it. for me." he runs a gloved thumb over your swollen bottom lip. "there's tha' look. drivin' me bloody insane when you gave kyle tha' molten gaze. none o' tha' now, yeah?"

he creeps his ungloved hand down to circle your pearl with the spit-slick pads of his fingers, drawing in a sharp breath when your walls flutter and constrict around his cock at the feel of something other than your toy giving you the relief you need after a hard day's work.

"bloody fuckin' 'ell."

ghost claims a fistful of hair, pulling you closer to him, his breath warming the stinging, throbbing mark he bit onto the delicate skin of your neck. the shuffling of feet right outside the door snap you out of your daze, fingernails sinking into the bulging muscle of his chest but he has none of it.

he uses your hair to direct your focus back onto him and even though he'd only given you a leading tug you felt some strands of your hair come off with a pop.

"easy. can't see your pretty face when i'm fuckin' ya if your lookin' away."

your expression twists into what you hope is bliss when he bucks his hips, your whimper drowning out his groan when he hits on something new.

something you want him to keep hitting.

"exactly like i'd thought."

everything else blurs together after that, and only when you're back in your room using a warm cloth to clean yourself up do you remember the other things he'd rumbled.

(inside o' ya, make you mine-)

(-get 'bout bein' with anyone else-)

(-ll to myself-)

you touch your tender pussy with gentle fingers at what he'd said in the end.

(leave tha' f'me, he swipes your hand away, i'll get ya there, pet.)

if price's compliments take a nose dive off a cliff you don't notice because you're getting your daily fill of them and ghost after dinner every night. kyle keeps them to one word and soap likes to tempt fate as always.

[thestuffedalligator]

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin. They both looked down at the crumpled shape of the Overlord, His Unholy Majesty, in his obsidian armor.

His final spasms had been mesmerizingly acrobatic. The fall down the steps leading up to his iron throne had pretzelled his body quite impressively, both arms folded behind his back and one leg bent at a jaunty angle.

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin.

"Shit," said the goblin.

"Shit," said the orc.

"We're likely to get blamed for this," the goblin said. She walked over to the head of the glittering mangled heap and started pulling the helmet off.

"It's not our fault," the orc said. "It's hard to help someone choking when they wear two-hundred pounds of spiked armor at all times."

"Yeah, well," the goblin grunted. The helmet came free, and the bald head of the Overlord bounced on the stone with a hollow, coconut noise. "You know how it is in this bloody country - thieves get their heads cut off so they can't think about thieving, and all that." She fished in the Overlord's mouth with a finger and pulled out the obstructing olive on the end of her claw.

She popped it into her mouth and chewed. "What do you reckon they do for a regicide?" she said.

"We should run," the orc said. She had started bouncing her leg. "I hear that there's some places in the Alliance where they just kill you and let you stay dead. That's got to be nicer than what'll happen if we stay here."

The goblin started to nod - and then her gaze fell on the helmet.

It looked like a pineapple designed by a deranged blacksmith. It was all thorns and spikes and hard edges, as though the maker had been very determined to not let pigeons roost on it. The only bits that weren't solid iron were eyeholes. Nobody had ever seen the Overlord's face.

She held up the helmet and squinted from it to the orc. One of the thorns had been bent badly in the fall.

Nobody had ever seen the Overlord's face...

"Right," she muttered. "Right. Could work - or."

The orc had a sudden vision of the immediate future. "No," she said.

"I mean you're about his height-"

"No."

"It would just be for a-"

"Absolutely not."

"Just hear me out," the goblin said. "Outside of this room are two-thousand men and orcs and goblins who are absolutely gonzo about this man, and there's a whole country of them outside of the castle, and at any moment someone's going to walk in that door and see one dead tit in black armor and two unbelievably dead idiots next to him.

"Or." She tossed the helmet up like a basketball to the orc, who fumbled and tried to find somewhere to hold it that wasn't a knife's edge. "We chuck him out the window now, walk out the door in the armor, and ditch the armor as soon as nobody sees us."

The orc had started bouncing her leg again. "They'll know something's up the second I walk out of the room."

"No worries," said the goblin. "Leave that to me."

---

It had been a very strange year for the Empire.

Change had rolled across the land as slow and inevitable as a glacier. Roads and bridges carved the gray, blasted wildlands, and a number of social reforms had made the country a place where you could be miserable, yes, but miserable in comfort and safety, and that was an improvement.

Barely anyone got boiled alive in molten metal, and even if the disgusted sun never rose to light the Empire, at least you had a roof over your head to protect yourself from the acid rain.

"Your empire flourishes, Your Unholy Majesty," the magician said over her wine glass. She looked down from the tower's balcony over the gleaming stone battlements. Some work had been done to line the castle and surrounding city with sizzling, crackling alchemical lights at night. The whole thing glowed like something dangerously radioactive.

The suit of armor waved a languid, glittering gauntlet over to the goblin, who bowed.

"His Abominable Gloriousness Thanks You," the goblin recited. "The Prosperity Of His Empire Can Only Be Achieved Through The Prosperity Of His People."

"If I may be so bold, I am quite pleased that you had chosen to take my counsel under consideration," said the magician. "We have accomplished many things together."

Another wave. Another bow. "The Overlord, May His Presence Swallow The Sun And Stars, Thanks You As Well."

"It was quite gratifying to see you change your mind, after so many centuries of denial." The wine was swirled. "Tell me, what was it that finally gave you cause to listen to me?"

There was the slightest hesitation. The goblin's eyes flicked to the armor, then to the magician. She puffed out her chest. "Do you question the wisdom of His Austere Lugubriousness?" she asked.

The magician looked at the goblin. She looked at the armor. She tipped her head back and drank the wine too quickly.

She looked back at the armor. "I know you're the orc, you moron," she said.

The room went deathly still. An alchemical light fizzled.

The orc pulled off the helmet, sending long, untied hair down tangling, and said: "How could you possibly-"

"Because you're both idiots!" the magician said. The goblin jumped. The orc jumped with a noise like a dropped stove. "What kind of a plan was this?! If it wasn't for me, you would have been turned into fertilizer months ago."

She closed her eyes. She took a long, dramatic breath. She set the wine glass down on the balcony rail.

"How did the Overlord die?" she asked when she seemed like she had gotten a hold over herself.

"Choked on an olive," said the goblin.

"Threw his body out the window," said the orc.

"You don't have to mention the window," said the goblin.

"Right," said the orc. "Sorry."

The magician looked out over the city, hand curled thoughtfully under her nose. "Who knows about this?"

"Just us. And, uh. You. Apparently."

"And why did you accept my counsel?"

The orc blinked. "Sorry?"

"Why did you accept my counsel?" the magician repeated.

"Well," the orc said. "Well - you seemed like you had good ideas-"

"Great ideas!" the goblin said with an edge of desperation. "Don't know why the old bastard didn't listen to you!"

"Right - right," said the orc. "And when we figured we were stuck doing this - well, it just made sense, really."

The magician seemed to absorb this. She nodded. "All right," she said, striding between the two and grabbing the crystal decanter.

"Um," said the orc. "Sorry. What happens now?"

"What happens is that you two will continue to serve as Overlord," said the magician. "You will continue to take my counsel. We will continue to reform this bloody country, and gods willing, we will turn it into the crown jewel of the world by next Midwinter."

The orc looked at the goblin. The goblin looked at the orc.

"Really?" the goblin asked.

"Oh yes," said the magician. "I've worked hard to be counsel to the Overlord, and I have no reason to stop now. And besides-"

She looked the orc up and down with a deliberate slowness, poring over every microscopic detail, eyes tracing over every jagged line, and grinned like a panther.

"You look much better in the armor than he ever did," she said. Dark robes swirled like a becleavaged thundercloud, and she strode out through the high iron doors, decanter in hand.

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin.

"Shit," said the goblin.

"Shit," said the orc.

[poguehearted77]

OBX Season 5: Payback for Maybank - masterlist

Actor! Au Pairing: Actress! Reader x Drew Starkey Your Character: Piper Monroe, a jack of all trades whose hustle was making a living as an arms dealer in Morocco. Until a group of foreigners find her with an appetite for revenge, and she decides to tag along.

These can be read in any order, the season summary is just to give you some background on the character and role you played in the final season. In this mini series you'll get to see what really goes on behind the scenes.

Lmk if you want to be added to the tag list <3

Season Summary: This season, the Pogues are back, and their hunt for Chandler Groff leads them through the scorching sands of Morocco—and straight into your path, a mischievous arms dealer with secrets as deep as your scars. Due to your betrayal, the Pogues are ambushed and barely survive, saved only by your last-minute change of heart. Even after your redemption and display of loyalty, Rafe still doesn’t trust you, and in your uneasy alliance, he keeps you close, sometimes too close. Tension crackles between you, with moments where his knife is at your throat, yet something unspoken simmers beneath the surface. In the final episode, as danger closes in, confessions boil over when you and Rafe find yourselves held hostage by the leader of the mercenaries, Finch. During your time in bondage, you connect on feelings of solitude and regrets, but you see a spark in him when he mentions a girl back home, a reason to keep fighting. It's a race against time before Finch comes back to kill you. To both your frustration, critical thinking and strategic camaraderie are necessary for your escape. When you find yourselves stuck in a sticky situation amidst your escape, you make the ultimate sacrifice for Rafe, reminding him, “You have someone to live for,” before initiating a human diversion in a suicide mission, giving Rafe the chance to make it back to the Pogues, giving him a second chance.

Below the cut you’ll find my masterlist of life behind the scenes of season 5. Including premiere appearances, bloopers, red carpets, interviews and your budding romance with Drew.

Lights, Camera, Action! -> It's your first day on set and your nerves are through the roof but the cast makes you feel at home. You practice your lines, but the sparks between you and Drew are unscripted.

Between the Lines -> It's the little things that go on behind the scenes between you and Drew that makes your chemistry electric.

Co-Star Confessions-> The cast takes you along for a trip to take a lie detector test. The jokes are rolling and the tea starts to spill.

Portugal Nights-> The day was tense. Rehearsals were much more heated than the lines intended and the thin rubber band of restraint holding you both apart was bound to snap, and it finally does.

The Wrap Party-> Filming is over and that's a wrap for Outer Banks. Things get emotional but Drew knows how to cheer you up.-coming soon (January 2025!)

Limelight -> Due to your smaller role in the season compared to the main cast, you only had a few solo interviews but not without a few surprises. -coming soon

Wardrobe Malfunction-> You and Drew were scheduled to make it to the red carpet by 8 sharp, but not everything goes as planned.-coming soon

Ship Wars-> The fans are back at it again, and the shipping continues. Debating that Piper and Rafe should've had a romantic arc. You and Drew are given a special interview to address them.-coming soon

The Power Couple-> Drew finally made things official, so you began to have your fun with the fans and let them put the pieces together.-coming soon

The After Party-> The champagne is bubbly in your systems when you and Drew are stumbling into your hotel room after the party.-coming soon

I do not own or take credit for the characters or cast of outer banks. These are all pure fiction and do not accurately reflect the cast.

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Aromatic

Sex Pollen!Eddie Brock|Venom x Spider-Girl!Reader

Summary: After a failed fight with a local villain, Venom and the Reader find themselves overwhelmed by some gas that was sprayed on them.

CW: choking, oral f!receiving, p in v, creampie, breeding kink,

a/n: so sorry this took so long, I’ve been stressed out here lately! I’m leaving the villain ambiguous so you can decide who it is as you read :)

~~~

Cold Autumn air cut through your suite like a knife. Swinging around the city as the sun went down, checking for any sign of mischief. Catching a glimpse of one of your partners in an alleyway. Deciding to check-in on him and see what was going on.

You crawled slowly down the wall behind him. Sneaking up to see if maybe there was something he was hiding.

"I know you're there," his deep voice rumbled in your ears.

Venom. An alien symbiote. Vigilante by night. Not entirely sure who his human vestige was underneath. Always curious, but never willing to ask.

You hopped off the wall with a sigh. Landing directly behind him, "Your senses are getting better."

"I can always smell you coming," he chuckled with a grin on his face. Your cheeks flushed under your mask. There always was a hint of flirtation between the two of you. You jokingly sniffed your armpit, “Do I really smell that bad?”

Venom scoffed, “Of course not.” A small sting of embarrassment on his tone. Like something deep inside him did not want to offend you.

You felt your senses go into overdrive. Whipping your head around in the direction you were being called to. Leading your gaze into the small view of the streets you had from the alleyway. Hearing the familiar laugh of the villain you had been tracking for weeks now.

“Come on,” you instructed him as you thwipped a web up, pulling yourself higher. Landing on top of the building surrounding you. Staring at the new machine they created. A giant vessel holding some colorful liquid on its back. Giant legs hoisting it up as it rampaged down the streets. Clamping down on cars and throwing them into buildings.

You and Venom diving down head first into the battle. Venom stopping the newly thrown car mid air before it struck a mother and her child. Your webs wrapping themselves around the arms of the machine, pulling and pinning them backwards. The villain shooting a dreadful look at you.

“So this is what you’ve been up to? Thought you were just scared to see me,” you mocked as you shot webs against the arms, pinning it to the ground.

“Pesky bug!” They shouted at you, fingers rapidly pressing buttons on the board of the machine. Watching as a canon extended from the back of it. Feeling your senses tingle every end of your nerves.

“VENOM! WATCH OUT!” You called out as you swung over to your partner. Attempting to shield him from whatever attack was coming from the villain. Your body moving without thinking to his defense.

Gas poured from the cone-shaped end. Surprising you that a missile of some kind didn’t fire out. Thick smog filled the entire street you were in. Fogging up your vision and burning your nose.

You both coughed as the dust coated the insides of your noses and throats.

"What the hell was that?!" Venom growled, noticing the villain had disappeared in front of you.

"I have no idea," you coughed out, "I don't feel any different. Not noticing any physical changes."

"Maybe it was just a distraction," Venom groaned frustrated that you had let them get away. Slamming his giant fist into the nearby concrete. Quiet cursed grumbled under his breath as he jumped back to the ground. You followed closely behind, shooting a web and sliding down it. Feeling a ting in your heart for him.

Walking over and flattening your hand against his back, “We’ll get them next time.”

The monster sighed.

Your chest jumped. The growl on his voice vibrating through your entire body. You swallowed heavy as you awkwardly removed your hand from him. His white eyes looking over his shoulder at you. Widening when they met yours.

“I’ve got to go,” Venom forced his head forward. Rushing off from you. Somewhere you were unsure of. An abrupt end to your nightly routine.

You headed home. Swinging along the large glass buildings in your city. Jumping down a hidden part of the alley next to your apartment. Grabbing your bag you had hid and changing clothes.

Your body went through the familiar motions as you walked up to your apartment. A haze around your vision, your mind somewhere else entirely. Unsure why you felt what you were, but focusing on the one thing that cleared up your fog.

Venom.

Your large alien partner in crime. Well— stopping crime. Ever since you had parted ways after your failed face off today, he was the only thing you could focus on. How gentle he always was with you, his deep voice, how effortlessly flirty he was with you during your endeavors, his tongue—

Oh God.

You felt every last vein in your body run hot. Tingling spreading from between your thighs throughout your body. Fumbling as you tried to get your key in the lock, hunching over at the deep sensation taking over your body. Your breath hitched in your throat.

- click -

Fuck, finally.

You stormed into your apartment. Arms wrapped around your chest. Your clothes feeling extra tight. Sweat bubbled along your body. You fanned yourself with your hands. Rushing into your kitchen to open the freezer. Cool air persisting your sudden sweats. Nothing was cooling you off.

You stumbled down your hallway as your core throbbed, an unspeakable feeling seizing your figure. Grabbing the box fan from the closet. Hurrying into the living room and plugging it in. Slumping against your couch directly in front of the fan. Growing agitated at the feeling swirling deep inside you. Unsure how to calm it.

A loud knock at your door made you sit completely up.

Why didn't your spider-sense warn you?

Walking over to look through the peephole. A man with a beard wearing a black leather jacket stood before your door. Not someone you had recognized before. Something inside you begged for you to open the door.

"Hello?"

The man awkwardly smiled at you. A hint of sweat on his forehead. "Uh- Yeah, hi," his eyes darted around the stairwell.

"Can I help you?"

"I think you can actually," he sighed, seeming like there was something he wanted to say. You could see his tongue moving around in his mouth as if he was feeling out the words before saying them.

Suddenly, black ooze began morphing around his arm. Quickly taking the shape of Venom's head in front of you. "We need to come in now," Venom insisted. Your body instinctively moved out of the way allowing them inside.

"How did you find where I live?"

"Do you feel it too?"

You blushed. Completely overtaken by the smell of him. The musky cologne mixed with the sweat on his skin. How his plump lips begged you to plant yours against them. The way his dark eyes stared into yours.

When you suddenly realized. He was feeling the same way you had been all afternoon. The deep burning inside you. The way your body ached and craved another. One that you could not put a finger on until now. It was him.

"Yes," you breathlessly said. Following close behind him.

"I told you so," Venom hissed in the man's face. He held up a hand, pushing him away from his face. "I'm Eddie by the way," he smiled at you, "We've kinda knew each other through some costumes before now." You returned his smile. Feeling a connection to him beyond understanding. Almost like you had known him forever.

“So— uh… guess we need to talk about this? It had to be whatever that psycho sprayed us with earlier. I’m not exactly sure what the side effects are, but I’ve been feeling—“

“Aroused?” Venom blatantly asked, embarrassing his human half. Eddie reached out attempting to cover Venom’s mouth. Pink decorating his cheeks at the aliens lack of social skills. Both of you sharing in your color filled facing.

“Sorry about him—“

“No— No I think he’s right,” you walked over to Eddie and Venom. Locking eyes with Eddie. Both of your bodies instinctively meeting each other. His hands splaying around your lower back, your arms wrapping around his neck. A warmth rising between you. Spreading throughout your body from where his hands met your skin.

“Have you been feeling it too, Eddie?”

His tongue came out to wet his lip. Dark eyes examining your face, pupils blown in lust. A sigh of a “yes” falling from him as he leaned in to plant his lips on yours. Tenderly you kissed back and forth. Tongues exploring each other’s mouths. Soft groans sharing between kisses. Taste of your shared saliva filling your senses.

Eddie’s kisses turned hungry. One hand roaming up your body to tangle in your hair, deepening your connected mouths. He led you backwards, the back of your legs hitting the couch. Bending as you sat back, Eddie’s arms pinned on either side of your head. Your lips parting as you stared at each other. Black pupils stared into yours. Feeling yourself grow lost in his presence. Needing him all over you.

“You smell delicious,” Venom’s deep voice huffed into your ear from behind. Turning your head to meet his gaze. Not even noticing he had crept up behind you while his host hovered over you. A tentacle of ooze wrapping around your neck and pinning you back against the couch. Ripping the air out of your lungs with his strength. Eddie’s lips kissed along your jawline, “Tell us if you want to stop.” You nodded in acknowledgment.

Your eyes squinted shut as their touches stimulated you. Eddie trailed down your body, knees hitting your floor. Fingers traced the waist of your shorts, playing with the elastic. Deep blue eyes stared up at your arched neck. Pressure left your neck as Venom retreated. Taking a deep breath that had been escaping you. Leaning your gaze forward to meet his eyes.

"May I?" Eddie hooked his finger around your waistband.

"Please-"

Eddie pulled your shorts down your legs. The sensation of his hands barely touching your skin sending shivers through you. He admired the darkened fabric of your panties as your core leaked for him. A goofy grin coming across his face. His hot breath fanned at your clothed entry. He leaned forward planting an open mouth kiss against you. Your hips lunged forward at the sudden contact. His hands gripped your thighs firmly holding you in place. "I'll make you feel good," he promised breathlessly. Eyes fixated on the faint image of your pussy in front of him. The smell of your arousal sending him over the edge. Animal like urges taking over. A strong hand ripped your panties off in one swipe. Eddie's brows raised in shock. Looking up at you with an awkward smile, a faint "sorry" escaping him.

Dipping in, his tongue swiping up your entrance. Your breath growing shaky, head falling onto the back of the couch. Trying your best to let him take control. Dying to grind into his face and ride his tongue. One of your hands tangled in his hair, lacing your fingers through it. A grunt vibrated through you when you pulled his hair a little harder than intended. One of his fingers circled your entrance, coating it in your juices before sliding it inside. Curving it with each slow and long thrust. Eddie's name a loud moan from you.

It rang in their ears. Venom inside Eddie's mind telling him to keep going until he had you a squirming mess. Fueling the fire that burned inside Eddie. His hard-on throbbing and begging to be inside you. Whatever had taken over the two of you stinging his skin. Your taste on his tongue turning him on even more.

Your orgasm was approaching at a rapid pace. Your legs were shaking with the magic Eddie worked on you. You were panting, eyes squinted shut in pure ecstasy. You felt Eddie rocking back and forth differently than before. Looking down to see him humping into your couch while still going down on you. Hot breath hitting your core as he continued sucking on your sensitive nub. Your eyes met, holding together. Eddie's brows contorted slightly, wanting nothing more than to be inside you. You could feel the coil inside you about to unwind. One more curve of Eddie's finger had it washing over you. A loud moan escaping you as you gripped his head for support. Forcing yourself further onto his face.

"That's it," Eddie cooed.

You sighed, your body relaxing into the sofa. Your hole still gripping around his finger post orgasm. Slowly, he removed his finger from you. Huffing as he rested his head against your quivering thigh, a wide grin on his face. Admiring how your chest rose and fell with every harsh breath you took. He held his finger up in front of his face staring at how your orgasm coated his finger. Pushing it between his lips and cleaning it off. Lingering in the taste of you.

"Eddie..."

"Yes?"

"Please, I need you to fuck me," you begged. He sighed heavily. Rising to his feet in front of you. Dropping his jacket from his shoulders, then pulling his shirt off. Undoing his belt and dropping it into the floor. Scooping you up into his arms effortlessly. Strength clearly from his symbiotic partner. "I thought you'd never ask," Eddie smiled at you, kissing your lips. Taking you down the hall where he assumed your bedroom was. Pretending the monster in his mind was not leading him to the area strongest of your scent. That's how Venom had taken him here to begin with. When they both were overcome with a desire they could not relieve themselves. The symbiote begged Eddie to allow him to go to you. You were what they desired.

Eddie sat you onto your feet, hands grazing up your sides as his forehead rested against yours. Lips locking with yours. Tongue exploring your mouth. Hands groped your chest. Pinching at your sensitive nipples through the fabric. Hands finding their way under your shirt, dancing up your back to the clasp of your bra. Fingers effortlessly undoing it. Pulling your shirt and bra off in one clean motion. Lips attaching to the soft skin of your chest. Sucking purple marks into them as his fingers rolled your nipples.

"Your skin is so soft," he moaned into you.

You moaned, grinding your knee into his erection. Hands circling his waist, dipping into the band of his jeans. Playing with his boxer-briefs underneath. Undoing the button and zipper. Hand delving down and wrapping around his thinly clothed cock. Eddie's hips rutted at your touch. Smiling into your skin.

Suddenly you felt yourself get thrown back onto your bed. Nude body on complete display for them. Eddie's wide eyes stared at you. Venom had grown impatient. Deciding he could no longer wait to be inside you.

"I want her now, Eddie," Venom growled in his face.

Eddie dropped his jeans and boxers. Hard cock springing free. You felt your mouth watering at the sight. Spreading your legs, inviting them in. That burn inside you igniting again. He stepped in front of you on the edge of the bed. Hand gripping his erection, pumping it. His brows furrowed, "Not what I need." His head tilted to the side as he eyed your body.

His toned body leaned on top of yours. Muscles flexing as he held himself up, other hand guiding himself at your entrance. Circling your folds with the tip. "Fuck, Eddie," you moaned. Forcing yourself down on him just enough to take his head in. Eddie groaned at the feeling, "Ah- Y/N, goddammit."

Eddie planted a strong kiss against yours lips as he sheathed himself inside you. Rolling his hips, allowing you to adjust to him. An instant relief overtaking you both. Exactly what you needed.

You felt ooze touching every inch of your body. Venom wrapped himself around you, wanting to feel as close to you as Eddie was. Stimulating your sensitive body, pinching at your hardened nipples, wrapping around your wrists and interlocking with your fingers. Far more intimate than you thought he was capable of. "Pretty thing," his voice boomed inside your ears.

Eddie continued his thrusts inside you. Face contorted at the relief he felt. Your insides cooling the burn he had been feeling. Walls coaxing him further inside you, practically sucking him in. Needing him all over you. Loving the attention Venom was giving you. The symbiote finding his way down to your clit. Circling it.

Your back arched. Moaning loudly at the feeling. Overstimulation taking over your senses. Losing yourself as Eddie's cock hit the spongey spot inside you that had you seeing stars. Breath hitching in your throat as your eyes rolled back into your head. Your cunt contorted around his member as they got you closer to your edge.

"I could fuck you forever," Eddie groaned as he leaned down closer to you. Lips tangling together as your wrapped your arms and legs around him. Pulling your bodies flush together. Venom spreading across both your bodies. Connecting you more than you had ever been with anyone else. You began meeting Eddie's thrusts with your own. Needing him to fill you up.

"Want us to breed you?" Venom licked his lips, "Dirty girl..."

You and Eddie's eyes locked. Lust blown pupils staring into each other. Both your mouths hung open, sharing the same air. He cocked an eyebrow at you, asking the same question that Venom had.

"Cum inside me, Eddie," you moaned, breath escaping you as he thrusted harder into you.

Hips snapped into you. Harsh and sloppy thrusts. Venom continued circling your sensitivity in an attempt to get you both to finish at the same time.

"Come on, Eddie," Venom snarled, "Fill her cunt up."

Eddie's face rested in the crook of your neck as he searched for both your highs. Grunting with each snap of his hips. "Yo-You have the per-perfect pussy," Eddie praised you as he felt your walls begin to tighten around him.

You came undone around him. Walls spasming around his cock. Pushing him over his own edge. Eddie shot hot up inside you, coating your walls with his seed. Pushing himself as deep inside you as he could get. His body twitched with each rope he shot into you. Lips kissing your skin.

Eddie slumped his body onto yours unable to remove himself from your warmth. Savoring the feeling of you wrapped around him. Your hands rubbed his back, nails scratching at his skin. Hesitantly, Eddie rolled off of you. Pulling himself out. The mixture of juices inside you spilling out. Venom forcing it all back inside you.

You rested against his chest. The fire inside you finally subsiding. Both of your chests heaved with deep breaths. Bodies having been worked.

"You can stay here," you sighed.

"We would love that," Eddie kissed your head.

~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! It feels so nice to return to the character who originally got me writing so much on this blog. I've missed these two so much. My inbox is always open for requests. If you want to be tagged in the future let me know! //

{tags}

@heif ~ @its-in-the-woods ~ @denisedixon ~ @crazymuffin1 ~ @gruffle1 ~ @atthediscowithoutpanic ~ @glader13 ~ @frenchkimbo ~ @wuuuuman ~ @vexties ~ @f4ngedgirl ~ @megangovier ~ @globinsmerchant ~

[cosmicpuzzle]

8th House- What is your danger ⚠️🚫⚡?

Aries on 8th: You are prone to physical danger from sharp subjects such as knifes, kitchen equipments such as microwave oven, cutting utensils, weapons, guns, heat and the Sun. You also are prone to accidents. Your head area must be guarded always.

Taurus on 8th: You are not prone to much physical danger but there are financial dangers such as loans, debts etc. You are also prone to excesses of all kinds, sexual, physical, food etc. Your throat area must be paid attention.

Gemini on 8th: You are prone to danger from social media and your random contacts. You also have problems through your communication. You are prone to danger throuh air element. Thus you may suffer lungs and breathing problems due to pollution, poor air quality etc. You must also avoid smoking.

Cancer on 8th: You are prone to danger from water bodies if you visit beaches, rivers and lakes. You must be careful during swimming, bathtubs etc.

Leo on 8th: You are prone to danger from fire and wildlife animals. You must also avoid overexposure to the Sun. You are at risk of blood pressure and heart ailments.

Virgo on 8th: You are prone to nervous disorders and anxieties and worries. You may also receive wrong medical diagnosis. You may face danger from small pets and infections. You may also have a relative backstabbing you.

Libra on 8th: Your dangers are from wrong relationships and addictive behaviors. You may become too lazy and thus your weight gain may lead to health problems especially related to kidneys

Scorpio on 8th: The danger in your life is related to violence or crimes and underhanded deals. You are exposed to jealosuy, fights or arguments. Anxiety or worries make you prone to accidents, bruises or burns. You are also prone to black magic. Sagittarius on 8th: You must be careful with fire, guns, competitive sports, adventures where you are exposed to accidents. You may also face danger in foreign lands or from foreigners and any mentors.

Capricorn on 8th: You face danger in old age or from old people. Accidents breaking the bones are also possible. Your joints are weak. You may be prone to Government fines.

Aquarius on 8th: You face danger from electricity and electronic items damaged plugs, wires or appliances. You may face danger from friends, social network. Your cardiac rhythm may be very irregular. Your circulatory system can be poor.

Pisces on 8th: You face danger from water bodies like cancer on 8th. Additionally, you face danger from drug overuse, medicines, tablets and any addictive substances such as alcohol, tobacco etc.

Note: Don't freak out as 1 in 12 people will have a sign on their 8th house. Just take precautions.

For Readings DM. For Reports at discount DM

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Can you do a Clark Kent, with a mate? Maybe she gets jealous of Lois but doesn’t know why; an to get over him she tries to go out with another guy but Clark is like no. Your mine.

.⋆｡Office Crushes｡⋆.

Alpha!Clark Kent x omega!plus size reader

Little bit of Bruce Wayne x plus size reader

Your best friend has an office crush that seems to be becoming something more, maybe you should get your own office romance but not because you’re jealous- obviously

Warnings: a/b/o, jealousy, mutual pining, idiots in love, little bit of angst, protective!clark, fluff

WC: 3.1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

It was quite common for any office to have its workers develop a sort of infatuation with each other. A confined space where you spend upwards of 40 hours a week with the same people, feelings are destined to arise, especially when it’s such a large mixture of alphas, betas and omegas. Hormones tend to go wild.

You were proud that you had never developed an office crush, knowing how disastrous it could be if the relationship ended, but you doubted your best friend could say the same. Clark had a big heart that he always wore on his sleeve and tended to attract a lot of romantic interest from practically everyone in the office. And apparently, Lois Lane was the lucky one who finally caught his eye.

A strange churning in your stomach began as you looked over the wall of your cubicle and spotted Clark leaning on the small kitchen counter, head thrown back in laughter as Lois chuckled over her now full cup of coffee. You know you should have seen it from a mile away- they were constantly paired up for articles, their chemistry was unmatched and they were by far the most attractive people in the office. You had even teased Clark on occasion for how often he met up with her after hours for some new lead, calling them dates.

Evidently, you were right. And for some reason, it was really bothering you. You felt physical disgust as Clark bent down to whisper something into the smaller omega’s ear and down right nausea as she placed a hand onto his broad chest to steady herself.

You swallowed down the bitter emotions and forced yourself to return to editing your article though a sour taste remained on your tongue. Maybe it was finally time to get your own office crush and the perfect opportunity had just landed in your inbox.

‘Bruce Wayne Interview- I trust you’ll get this done professionally’. You bit your lip at the offer, not only would an interview with Gotham’s golden boy boost your career, but whenever you had encountered the alpha before, he had always asked you out and you had always brushed him off. It was a win-win for you, and maybe it would stop the inexplicable rage you felt when you looked up and saw the goofy grin on Clark’s face as he sat back down at his desk.

Your nose wrinkled as you caught Lois’s scent clinging to him. Your fingers flew across the keyboard as you quickly sent a response back to your boss, accepting the offer. 

You just needed a distraction and then everything would go back to normal.

——————

The tension in the conference room at the top of Wayne Enterprise was so thick you swore you could cut it with a butter knife. You cleared your throat and tugged down your pencil skirt, over-aware of just how high it sat on your plump thighs as you reclined in one of the many expensive seats in the room. 

Bruce’s eyes flicked down to where your hands were curled into the material of the skirt and then back to your eyes but not before stopping very briefly at your lips. “Mr Wayne-“ You began again, glancing at your notepad. The small talk had gone well as did the customary chit chat about any new scandal he happened to have instigated and the photos of the both of you for the article.

“Bruce please, I think we’re far beyond that now.” He winked and you swore that his tone held a bit of a teasing purr. Your stomach flipped at the blatant attention from the alpha but it quickly dropped as yet another wave of thick, bitter scent filled the room making you cringe away from the other man standing to the side.

Through a series of several unfortunate events, your usual photographer had fallen ill and his stand-in got hired from right under the company and left so the only person that even had the slightest bit of talent with a camera in the office was forced to come with you today for shots of the billionaire. And in the worst stroke of luck, that person happened to be the very man that ‘inspired’ you to take the job in the first place.

Clark shifted on his feet and you barely repressed an eye roll. He had been very vocal in his disapproval of the whole thing given how often the mogul had put the moves on you but none of his arguments had done anything to deter you, instead they only fuelled the fire.

Bruce’s jaw clenched and you watched in fascination as the muscles beneath his skin moved, although they were not nearly as impressive as Clark’s (you would never admit that out loud). “Well Bruce,” He beamed at you, “Wayne Enterprises has just introduced a new product line that promises to ease the severe heats often experienced by omegas, my question for you is, what about this product is so different from all others on the market that promise the same things yet all others have failed?”

The alpha leaned back in his seat, his muscular thighs spreading slightly, instantly drawing your gaze to the thick bulge that was perfectly hugged by the material of his pants. Your eyes immediately flicked back up to him but given the smirk on his lips, Bruce knew exactly what he was doing. 

“I’m actually quite proud of my team for this, they’ve worked tirelessly on development for years and I believe that it really shows. While other products are usually prescribed by doctors in the forms of ointments and perfumes that mimic the scent of an alpha, which almost never work by the way, we have gone in a totally new direction. Instead, omegas can buy these pouches at any pharmacy and when heated, they give off the scent of a pup.” Bruce gestured to the small bags that were barely the size of your palm that sat on the table next to him. They gave the appearance of a miniature version of a microwavable heat pack but he was right, if you concentrated hard enough, you could smell the mixture of milk and flowers that all babies had.

“It is common knowledge that the presence of pups actually help to lessen the effects of a heat whereas the scent of an alpha is far more complex to manufacture and can actually make an omega’s heat worse if they don’t have any other-“ he paused then, his smirk growing as the room seemed to grow smaller, “-tools to help them through it.” You barely suppressed a squeak and quickly ducked your head as if you were checking your notes once more.

You gathered yourself for a moment then spoke again, missing the way that Clark was glaring at the other alpha over your shoulder. “And how affordable are these products?”

“Wayne Enterprises are donating 2 million to women’s shelters throughout Gotham and we plan to sell them for less than $10.” As if anticipating your next question, Bruce licked his lips and continued. “While it is not feasible to gain a profit from such a low price, I would rather give them away to the people that need it but I do have a board that I have to listen to… sometimes.” He winked at you.

Heat crawled up your neck and settled onto your full cheeks. You squeezed your thighs together though you weren’t quite sure if it was because you were attempting to feign arousal or keep him from looking up your skirt. You laid a hand onto your notebook, shutting off your recorder, as you leaned forwards and offered him your other one. “Thank you for being so open to this interview, you have been a hard man to pin down.”

You could feel the way Clark’s body seized as Bruce’s smirk grew and his eyes twinkled deviously. “If it’s by you miss Y/L/N, I would gladly be pinned down any time.” He shook your hand with a firm grip, letting the tips of his fingers brush against your wrist. “For an interview that is.”

He rose to his feet and politely helped you to yours, steadying you with a hand on your waist as you wobbled on your heels. Once he was sure that you were steady, he ducked down and grabbed one of the unopened boxes of Heat Helpers (quite the cheesy name in your opinion) and gave it to you, along with a small piece of cardstock. “Why don’t you take this, a thank you for a great conversation.”

You flipped over the piece of paper to reveal a phone number scrawled on in pen. You gave him a questioning look to which he chuckled. “My number, if you ever want to have a one-on-one with me, with or without the tape recorder.” 

You swallowed thickly and stuttered out some kind of polite response before Clark ushered you out of the room, muttering under his breath about being in a time crunch. You were barely able to catch one last, “Anytime miss Y/L/N” before the heavy door slammed shut and you were quite literally pushed into the awaiting elevator by your friend.

As soon as the doors were shut, you were on him. “What was that all about?” You crossed your arms over your chest and gave him a scrutinising look. Clark refused to make eye contact with you, instead he stared at the elevator doors like he was willing them to open.

“He was flirting with you.” You rolled your eyes and looked away from the tall alpha. “And you let him.”

“So what? He’s attractive and available, as am I. It was only natural.” Clark’s shoulders tensed, his grip on his camera tightening until his knuckles turned white. The confined space was now filled with a bitter scent that made your stomach drop and your omega howl in displeasure.

“Why are you so concerned about this, Clark?”

The elevator doors opened with a ping and he quickly walked out. “It’s nothing.” He said and you knew you weren’t going to get anything else out of him until he decided he was done throwing a tantrum.

——————

“So have you called him?” Lois was leaning against the bar next to you, her drink half empty but the flush on her cheeks told you that it wasn’t the first one of the night. 

“Called who?” She rolled her eyes like it was obvious.

“Bruce Wayne! He obviously wants you too, I saw the photos Clark took. He’s fucking—what’s the word— enamoured!” You scoff behind your tumbler of whiskey which you had been nursing since Perry gave it to you an hour ago. The whole office had gathered at the bar down the road for an end-of-workweek drink and against your better judgement, you had decided to join.

Clark had been convinced into joining a game of pool, leaving you without anyone to talk to but it’s not like he would anyway. For some stupid reason, the alpha had been giving you the silent treatment for days and it was really starting to piss you off. You regarded Lois with a look but she was far too tipsy to get it.

“He was just flirting, he does it with everybody.” You dismissed it but she scoffed.

“Then why did he ask Perry for your personal number?” Your head snapped up, your eyes wide. “Clark didn’t tell you?” Evidently, your wide open mouth and lack of a verbal response told her everything she needed to know. Suddenly, Lois was very sober, a serious expression on her face.

“We were in a meeting with Perry the day after the interview and Wayne just strolled in like he fucking owned the place. He said how great you were and that he was hoping to get your number for a follow-up interview sometime soon. Clark said he would handle it, I assumed that he would have talked to you.” Her gaze travelled over to said man. “Shit I guess he didn’t.”

You slammed back the rest of your drink and without any sort of conscious thought, stormed over to the group of men huddled around the pool table. “Where the fuck do you get off Kent?” You snarled. Immediately all of the men seemed to find their phones incredibly interesting.

“I’m sorry?” He asked in that way too polite way he did that really meant ‘what the fuck is the matter with you’ but you were having none of it.

“Why didn’t you tell me Bruce asked for my number?” 

“There’s a lot of Bruces in the world, you’ll have to be more specific.” He dismissed.

Anger flared in your gut. “You know exactly what I’m fucking talking about.” You snarled, making Clark stand up straight and meet your eyes. In the dim light of the bar, his expression was far darker than you had ever seen before as aggravation rolled off of his powerful body in waves. “You had no right to keep something like that from me!”

“I had every right! He was just going to use you and then never talk to you again! I was protecting you!” 

“I didn’t ask you to!” The bar went completely silent as Clark visibly flinched but you were far too upset to care. “You know what, I’m done.” You raised your hands in surrender as you turned and pushed through the stunned crowd, your anger slowly trickling away into sadness.

The night air was like a punch in the gut but it also eased the tenseness in your shoulders. Taking a deep breath, you willed yourself not to cry. It wasn’t like you were in love with Bruce, but even if you were, Clark’s blatant disapproval of him and his distrust in your decisions made you feel incredibly small. And it was breaking your heart.

He was your best friend, he was supposed to be supportive if not a little teasing about your choice in men. He was supposed to console you when things went wrong, not say ‘I told you so’. Why did he get to control your love life while you could only sit back and watch him fall in love with someone else?

Your feet carried you further and further from the bar as the urge to sob was quickly becoming overwhelming. “Y/N!” You turned in time to see Clark throw open the door, the light from inside spilling out onto the street as he endeavoured to chase you.

“Leave me alone!” You cried or at least tried to, but then suddenly, the air was knocked from your lungs and you were looking up at the stars.

The shrill screech of a speeding car came from somewhere on your left as bright headlights illuminated the mass of a man above you before the sound was in the distance and darkness folded over you both. His weight kept you pinned to the slightly damp grass and you had the vague thought that you must be in a park of some kind, even though just a second ago you were standing on a sidewalk- or was it the street?

“Are you okay?” That was Clark’s voice but he had been so far away from you. “Omega?” He sounded distressed and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why.

“Say something!” His huge hands were planted by your head and it was only when one of them cupped your cheek did you find your voice again.

“Clark?” His whole body sagged with relief and he let his forehead rest against yours.

“Thank god. I thought I didn’t get to you in time. The car came out of nowhere and you were so close.” You turned your head away from him, your eyes focusing on the bar… that was across the street… a block away. The glint of something in the grass catches your attention, Clark’s glasses. 

He looked so different without them and all your confused mind could think was just how blue his eyes were when they were unobscured by the glass. 

His button up shirt which was normally so perfectly done up was unbuttoned, exposing the tight material of something navy beneath. “What?” But you couldn’t get out anymore, not when he shifted his weight, exposing even more of what was covered by his shirt and you were stunned into silence.

The red ’S’ practically glowed as realisation dawned into you. His brows scrunched in confusion, following your gaze. “I- I can explain.” Your head spun as he yanked you to your feet, though his hands never left your skin like he needed the reassurance that you were still there.

“I was going to tell you but then I realised how much danger it would put you in and if you were hurt in any way because of me, I couldn’t even stand the thought. And then we had known each other for months and Lois said you would feel betrayed so I kept it a secret-“ You placed an open palm onto his chest, stopping him in his tracks. His mouth snapped shut with a click.

“Is this why you were acting so weird about Bruce? You thought he would hurt me because of you?” Your voice wobbled with emotions as your nails dug into his warm peck. 

Clark’s growl was shocking in its intensity. The vibrations shot up your arm as the ground shook beneath your feet with its power. “No, he would never even dare to fucking touch you. He knows who you belong to.” Your heart skipped a beat, this possessiveness was nothing you had ever seen from the soft-spoken reporter before. You knew that you should find it disgusting considering how he had been treating you but instead your veins filled with warmth.

“And who is it that I belong to? There’s no claiming mark on my neck.” His grip on your hips tightened which should have been a warning but the anger was quickly returning now that the foggy haze of danger had passed. “If I can remember correctly, you’ve been courting Lois, not me.”

“I’ve been asking her for advice on how to ask you out!” He said, exasperated. “I just couldn't find the perfect time to do it.”

“You’re an idiot.” You retorted before grabbing his black curls in a tight grip and yanking his mouth to yours. His body tensed but then quickly melted into you, groaning against your lips. 

Maybe you did have an office crush but it’s not like you’d actually admit it.

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[d0rothydraws]

Luke and Kieran bet you to call Sylus a good boy. Without thinking, you accepted. Content: Light choking, Deep throating, Body worship, praise kink and general highly sexual themes

w/c: 3.8k

ao3: Here

part 2: Here

a/n: This is my first actual Sylus fic I hope I did him justice. The idea of calling him a good boy popped into my head and I ran with it. loosely based off of the oasis card. i could do a part 2 to this if people want it. low key nervous about posting this i havent posted smut in 2 years

Luke and Kieran bet you to call Sylus a good boy. Without thinking, you accepted.

And now, you were at an auction, insisting you came along. Teasing you for being clingy, Sylus accepted your company and now the two of you were sitting at a large dinner table surrounded by very powerful and Important men. They were talking in a language you didn't understand but you didn't really care. Your mind wasn't on the auction or the weapons they were bartering. Your mind was on Sylus. The man beside you so close you could feel the brush of his thigh against yours under your dress.

You tried to be calm. Confident. And for the most part besides your heart that was beating out of your chest, were doing a good job. Even as you moved a hand under the table onto his thigh.

The reaction was minimal, yet the fact you got a reaction in the first place was a good sign. His hand that was holding a steak knife, cutting into his meal tightened. Pausing for a moment before continuing.

You trailed your hand over the inseam of his thigh, a gentle feather light touch. You felt him stiffen under your hand. You knew how sensitive he was. He leaned his lips to your ear, his voice a low rumble.

"Bored with the auction, sweetie? You're the one that asked to come along." His breath was hot against your ear and yet you didn't falter. Your hand resting on the muscle of his upper thigh.

"I can't understand what they're saying. Of course I'm bored." You muttered back quietly only for him to chuckle, sitting back straight in his chair.

You moved slow, your fingers trailing higher up on his thigh until you trailed a finger against the zipper. A hand moved to hold your wrist, firm as his fingers wrapped around your hand.

"Sweetie." He said, his voice having an edge to it. You could feel how your touches have effected him. The warmth under your hand half hard. You bit back a smirk. But before you could continue or respond, the men at the table stood. Large double doors opened as the men entered.

You tried to pull your hand away, getting ready to stand to follow. It was time for the auction to begin. And yet, his grip tightened. Finally you looked up at him as he stood, still holding your hand. Following his lead he walked you into the room. His silence was loud.

The room was filled with rows of chairs and at the front, a stage with cases and boxes. As you went to sit down, Sylus pulled you closer, landing on his lap instead. You gasped softly, looking up at him but his eyes were trained on the stage.

"Just sit still and behave, sweetie." He said into your ear his arms wrapping around your waist ignoring any looks.

You took in a deep breath, feeling him still half hard under you. The auction begun, bids flowed in as they showed off firearms more expensive than you could even comprehend. You bit you lip, getting an idea as your heart spiked.

It was a handgun. Nothing like you haven't seen a million times you were sure Sylus probably even had that exact one. Yet, you hummed, faking interest.

"That one. I want that one" You whispered, leaning your head back against his shoulder as your ass pushed more against his hips. You felt him take in a sharp breath.

"Really out of all of the ones that's the one that catches your eye?" He said with an amused tone, not knowing what game you were playing but he knew that there was one. "I have about 50 of that exact model you can pick from." He said, leaning his lips against your ear, his hands moving to your hips, holding you firmly.

"But I want it." You pouted, looking up at him. "One of my own." His lips twitched into a smirk, an eyebrow lifting.

"One million" he said, his voice cutting through the crowd. Silence settled for a moment before another man with a thick accent countered.

"Two million"

Sylus' eye twitched. All of this trouble for a small hand gun. It wasn't worth more than one, he would know. But he knew the man was just bidding against him to spite him.

"Ten million." Sylus said. A few murmurs erupted. The man who was countering gave a loud scoff. The bid was completed.

You leaned your lips up, brushing against his ear.

"Good boy."

A hand moved to cradle your neck, not choking but still form. You could feel his body stiffen under you. His cock twitching under you. Your body heated up, breath growing hotter at his reaction.

"You're playing a dangerous game, kitten." He purred in your ear, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You should stop. You finished the bet. But the adrenaline was addicting.

"I'm just telling the truth." You replied back, his hand still firm on your neck, the other around your waist. "I'm not satisfied yet, though." You purred, your hand moving to curl at the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. He made a low sound. "Buy me another one. Be a good boy, and buy me another gun." You breathed into his ear, your voice was hot, needy. Greedy.

His hand on your neck tightened, his hips twitching against your ass as you felt the hardness under you build. Your eyes closed as you let out a heavy breath, blushing as your body began to tingle. You expected him to tell you to shut up. To mock you for calling him that. Not to be into it. Though he didn't outright say it, you could feel how he was slowly losing his handle on the situation.

Instead, he chucked. Soft lips pushed against your ear. "You're pushing it, sweetie." He growled softly, his nails biting the sides of your neck as his words sent a shiver down your spine. You knew you were playing with fire. But with his hand around your neck, people around you glancing to look at the man who just spent 10 million dollars on a simple handgun, you felt over confident.

"Oh sweetie," You retorted, refusing to give in so easily. You knew he liked a fight. "I'm not the one with a hardon right now from being called a good boy."

Your body was standing suddenly, your legs moving to the door before your mind caught up. Sylus' hand in yours as he practically dragged you out of the building. The ride back was quiet, yet the air was thick. You knew he was probably cursing his decision of bringing his bike and not a car, your chest pressed against his back, thighs against him as he drove as fast as the motor would let him.

You didn't have a chance to move off of the bike before his hands were pulling the helmet off of your head. His eyes dark as they looked into yours. His touch was exceptionally gently considering how you figured he'd be treating you right now. His fingers traced your jaw, guiding you off of the bike with his other hand. His hand wrapped around your hip, pulling you flush to his. Sylus' other hand taking your chin between his fingers. "You've been nothing but trouble tonight, kitten." He said, his tone unreadable as his thumb traced the bottom of your lip. You flicked out your tongue, bringing it into your mouth. His lips twitched into a smirk. "What's got you so riled up tonight?" He said with a chuckle, pressing the pad of his rough thumb against your tongue before pulling it back, smearing your saliva over your lip. "I had a bet. And I won." You said, a playful glimmer in your eye as you finally admitted what had been on your mind. "I had a bet with the boys that I wouldn't survive if I called you a good boy." You moved your hand to his cheek, trailing down the muscle of his neck. "And from what I've seen," Your voice dropped to a whisper. "You liked it."

"What a silly bet." He muttered as his hand on your hip pulled you closer. "What makes you think that I liked it?" He said raising and eyebrow. "Why tell you when I can show you." You whispered before moving to take his hand on your hip, thankful that he was following your lead for a change. Though it was always hard for him to deny you.

As you closed the door behind you, you looked up at Sylus, taking a slow breath. You could cut the tension with a knife. Yet, he didnt make a move. He knew this game, and he was willing to play it. At least, until he wasn't. As you stepped closer to him, a hand moved down the buttons on his shirt. "You know, you really are beautiful." You whispered, your words genuine.

"What, are you just going to praise me all night?" He said, a half laugh half scoff as he slid his fingers over your shoulder and under the sleeve of your dress. Your hand on his chest became more firm as you popped a couple of the buttons free. "Yes, actually." You said simply as his shirt opened to expose his chest. You seen his stomach contract as he took in a breath. "Now, lay down on the bed."

It seems you struck a nerve because he listened without protest. Shrugging off his shirt as it fell onto the ground, he laid on the bed. His eyes glued to you as you followed him, straddling his hips as your thighs rested on each side of his body.

You started with his neck. Your lips grazed the skin as you kissed him gently, trailing and peppering kisses down his jaw. "You're listening so well." You breathed against his cheek, his body tense as you rested your hands on his chest. "You really are a good boy." You giggled. He frowned, his eyebrows knotting. "Don't mock me." He grumbled, his breath hitching as your hand gently trailed over his chest. Your lips grazed his as you spoke. "I wouldn't dream of it." Your lips pressed against his in a slow, tender kiss. Your fingers circled his nipples. His breath hitched against the kiss as you added more pressure. You moved slowly. Your movements unrushed, tender. As if you were worshiping him. And in a way, you were. You wanted to overwhelm him with praise. With soft touches and kisses. He shivered softly as you pinched his nipples between your fingers. You broke the kiss, lips caressing the corner of his lips. "I could kiss you all night." You breathed before moving lower on his body. Your hips moved making him grunt as you adjusted. As your tongue trailed the canyon of his chest your hands moved against his sides. You felt his muscles, how they twitched under your hands. How his breath was heavy, his hips starting to become more active as he slowly became more needy. His hand moved to curl into your hair. His head leaning back as his eyes closed. A low sigh leaving his lips as he felt how your soft hands caressed his strong and admittedly tired body. As he felt your tongue flick against his nipple though, his hand tightened in your hair. A low groan that went straight between your thighs filled the room. Letting out a shaky breath in anticipation, you flicked your tongue a few more times. As the bud hardened, you wrapped your soft lips around it, your eyes looking up at Sylus through thick eyelashes only to find him looking back at you. His face was flushed, his eyes slightly glassed over. You had never seen him like this before.

You pinched his other nipple, twisting it between your fingers softly as you sucked the other one and then after a few moments you switched. His hips arched against your body, feeling his thick need tight against his pants from nothing more than a few kisses and touches. "I didn't know you were so needy." You whispered as you began to move lower. Your lips trailed down his stomach, feeling his abs flex under you as you reached his belt. "I like it." You purred, licking the wet patch through his pants earning a low groan from him. "Kitten if you keep teasing me I won't be able to stay still." He warned, his voice strained. The sound of his voice made you shiver, a soft hum of arousal leaving your lips as you looked up at him. Your tongue sticking out to lick the spot again, slowly.

"You can handle it." You said, smirking as you used the words he used against you so long again against him. You slowly sat back up on your heels as you looked at him. "Now, be good and undo your pants for me baby."

His large hands moved to his belt, his hips raising as the sound of metal echoed as he undid the belt, sliding it off and letting it fall off the bed. His hands trailed over the button of his pants. You watched with heat in your eyes as he circled it sensually before popping the button open. His thumbs hooked under his underwear and pants, pulling them down with one movement.

You licked your lips as you looked down at him. Pants around his thighs, his cock hard and dripping onto his stomach as his hands finished adjusting his pants. As he moved his hand to curl in your hair again you pulled back, smirking.

"You didn't ask to touch me first." You said in a playful tone as your finger trailed the thick vein on his thigh up to his cock. He twitched, taking a sharp breath.

"Can.. I touch you?" He asked, oh so obediently. It made your heart flutter.

"No." You said with a low purr as you moved back down between his thighs. Lips trailed up the thick muscle, licking that same vein that your hands trailed seconds before. As he was about to argue, a grunt filled the room as you licked up the bottom of his cock before taking the tip past your lips.

His hands clenched, nails digging into his hands as he struggled to obey your command. You looked up at him, slowly lowering your mouth lower, lower and lower. Your tongue pushed flat against the sensitive tip as you took him entirely into your throat. He groaned louder, his mouth opening slightly as he twitched, his hips shaking as he felt your throat tighten around him as you swallowed his cock.

"Fuck kitten." He moaned, his eyes never leaving you as his breath became labored. You moaned around him, feeling yourself struggle to breathe around him. He was so thick, so large that he reached the base of your throat. Your eyes rolled as you began to bob your head.

He couldn't stop himself from thrusting into your tight little throat. You said no touching, but never not to move. And now, you couldn't talk with your mouth occupied. So, he took full advantage of the situation.

You gasped around him as he met your lips, a wet sound filling the room as his hips thrusted against you. He reached deeper in your throat, swallowing around him he moaned, his head falling back. Giving in, his hand finally curled in your hair. Fingers wrapping tightly around you as he held you still. "I'm sorry, kitten. You're too good." He growled as he rutted into your mouth. A low moan fell out of your bruised mouth as you were silently grateful for the turn of events. As his thrusts became more uneven and his cock swelled more against your painfully tight throat you groaned as hot cum flowed against you. A few more thrusts before he slowly pulled out, a sheen of sweat on his body. His cock, still half hard laid against his stomach. You panted for breath, air painfully filling your lungs again. Gently he brought you up to his lips, kissing you slowly as his hands rested on your waist.

You pulled back giving him a pout. Your voice strained and raw. "That's not how it was supposed to go." You grumbled but blushing as his hands trailed down your waist and to cup your thighs.

"Mm but you would have done the same thing if you were in my position, sweetie." "No, I have more self restraint than you."

"I don't believe you." He whispered, a low chuckle. "Let's test it, shall we?"

[its3nvy]

"Wear the hat, ride the cowboy" Billy the Kid

Summary: After drawing the wrong kind of attention at the saloon, Billy comes to your rescue. Having to pretend to be his for the night, which leads to a ‘wear the hat, ride the cowboy’ situation ;) 

Tags/warnings: mdni (18+), porn with no plot, angst, size kink, riding cock, overstimulation, fingering, breeding kink, creampie, unprotected sex, rough sex, dirty talk, slight knife kink

Note : This is my first time ever writing smut and I haven't edited it a lot so this should be fun. (Tell me if it's good or not pls)

tags: f!reader, smut

word count: 3.7k

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Curiosity led you to the local saloon one evening, where Billy often engaged in poker games. The air inside was thick with the smoky residue of cigars, and the occasional clinking of glasses underscored the distant melody of a forlorn piano. As you pushed through the creaking doors, your presence hung in the air, drawing the gaze of rough patrons whose eyes bore into you with a kind of familiarity you had never known. Unaccustomed to the bold gazes and suggestive comments that swirled around you like a threatening storm, you sought refuge at the bar. A man behind it was taking someone’s order.

You looked around, your eyes finally found Billy's familiar frame, surrounded by a haze of cigarette smoke, engaged in a high-stakes poker game.

“Hello, darlin’,” a drunken man stumbled toward you.

“Hello, sir,” you gave him a small smile, trying to avoid his intense stare.

He leaned against the bar to keep his balance. “Come on, darling, don’t be such a prude. Talk to me.” His hand reached up, attempting to caress your face.

From afar, you saw Billy, his eyes—usually mischievous and full of life—met yours with a fleeting recognition. Without uttering a word, he rose from his chair, his cowboy boots echoing a heavy cadence on the worn wooden floor.

The drunken man's intrusive advances persisted, his slurred words creating an uncomfortable tension. "Don’t play hard to get, honey. I can show you a good time," he insisted, his hand becoming more insistent. Ignoring the drunkard, you turned back to the bar, hoping for intervention. The man persisted, his persistence turning aggressive. As his hand encroached upon your personal space, a shadow fell over you. 

Billy's presence loomed, his gaze colder than the steel of his revolver. Without a word, he grabbed the man's hand, his grip firm and unyielding. “Leave her alone," Billy's voice cut through the clamor of the saloon, his words echoing with a subtle menace.

The tension escalated, a palpable undercurrent surging through the room. The patrons, sensing the imminent storm, shifted uneasily. Billy's eyes held yours, a silent reassurance amid the brewing chaos. The drunk man, now confronted by the notorious gunslinger, stumbled backward, a mixture of recognition and fear contorting his expression. With a final warning glare from Billy, he slinked away into the crowd.

Billy turned towards you, his eyes softening as if to assure you that the storm had passed. 

"What in the hell are ya doin’ here?", he murmured, his tone both gruff and concerned as he reached you, seizing your hand and guiding you to the quiet side of the room. "I needed to go out, Billy," you replied, your voice carrying a note of defiance and desperation.

He hissed, a trace of irritation etching lines across his rugged features. "You can’t. You gotta go home. These people here are dangerous," he warned.

"And you don’t think me leaving alone would be dangerous?" you shot back, your gaze a defiant challenge to the protective facade he wore like impenetrable armor.

"Shit," he conceded, his irritation mingling with a begrudging acceptance of your undeniable truth. "Alright, I’m finishing up my round, and then we can go," Billy relented, his tone an admission of defeat. "But you play along with me, ok? If they don’t think you're claimed, they'll see you as fair game," he said, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that cut through the smoky haze, demanding an unspoken oath.

“Ok,” you huffed out.

He pulled you towards his table with a rough yet oddly comforting grip, a silent acknowledgment that, for a fleeting moment, you were to be sheltered from the men surrounding you as long as you stayed with him. "Wait," he murmured, his hand lingering on yours. With a swift motion, he removed his hat, worn and weathered from a life on the precipice.

You extended your hand to stop him. "Billy, you can’t," you insisted, your voice barely more than a whisper, laden with the implications of his gesture. “You know what this means.”

"That’s the point," he declared, his crooked grin returning like a bittersweet promise of protection. As he placed his hat on your head, it became a proclamation, an unspoken claim made before the watchful eyes of everyone present, and a promise of a heated night that lingered in the air like an unspoken secret.

"Now, c’mere," he commanded, pulling you towards him as he settled into his chair, drawing you onto his lap. You bit on your lips, a mixture of anticipation and fear, the heat rising to your cheeks as the proximity between you tightened like a coiled spring. This was the first time Billy had been so close, and the magnetic pull of his presence ignited an unfamiliar fire within you.

He looked up at you as you bit your lips, his gaze a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken tension that hung thick in the air.

As he resumed his poker game, you felt his breath against your neck. "Pass me the whiskey, doll," he asked.

You leaned against the table, inadvertently pulling your hips tighter into his pelvis, sensing his hardness between you. His hands reached out against your hips, gripping you and keeping you still. "Careful," he warned against the shell of your ear, his breath raising goosebumps along your neck, a sensation that heightened the electrifying energy between you.

As you handed him the glass, he took a swig, and then, with a deliberate slowness, leaned down against the side of your neck, planting a lingering kiss. "Thank you, doll," his gravelly voice murmured, the aroma of whiskey lingering in the air.

Billy's fingers grazed lightly along your waist, sending a cascade of sensations through your body. His gaze met yours once more, a silent invitation lingering in his eyes. It was then that you became acutely aware of the speculative glances from the patrons, their curiosity fueled by the undeniable connection unfolding before them.

The weight of Billy's hat on your head felt like both a shield and a beacon, marking you as his amidst the prying eyes of the saloon.

The night passed on and as the final hand of poker concluded, Billy rose from his seat, still holding you close. "Wrapping it up for the night, boys. See ya tomorrow," he declared, his voice a mix of weariness and determination.

He grabbed your hand, guiding you out with a certain urgency. The saloon doors swung open, thrusting you back into the harsh glow of moonlight. As you stopped in front of his horse, he turned around and said, "What the hell were you thinking, coming here alone? You know how they treat women here."

His words cut through the night air, a mixture of concern and frustration etched on his rugged features. The distant sounds of revelry from the saloon formed a dissonant backdrop to the charged atmosphere between you.

You met his gaze, a swirl of emotions reflecting in his eyes. "I just wanted to have one free night, Billy. Just one," you replied, your voice carrying a note of desperation. Billy's jaw clenched, a silent acknowledgment of the dangers lurking in the shadows. "This ain't the place for that, especially not for someone like you," he muttered, his grip on your hand tightening as if to emphasize the point.

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The moonlight cast shadows across his face, revealing the hardened resolve etched into his expression. "I can't have you wandering into places like this, doll," he continued, a trace of vulnerability underlying his gruff tone. "It's too damn dangerous."

Billy sighed, a heavy exhale that seemed to release the tension in the air. "Let's get you home," he said, his voice softened. With a final glance back at the saloon, you moved towards his horse. As you approached, he placed his hands on your hips, lifting you onto the horse with a gentle yet firm touch. You instinctively grabbed his forearm for support, your eyes locking in a shared moment of intimacy. 

The ride home was a silent journey through the cool night air, the rhythmic hooves of the horse creating a steady cadence. You sat in front of Billy, the warmth of his body enveloping you, his strong arms encircling your waist as you traversed the dimly lit trails. 

As the horse navigated the uneven terrain, Billy's embrace tightened slightly, offering both stability and reassurance. His chin rested on your shoulder, his warm breath tickling your neck, and in that intimate proximity, the weight of your unspoken desires lingered like an invisible thread weaving through the darkness.

Arriving at your doorstep, Billy helped you dismount, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. Your eyes met, a complex tapestry of emotions woven between you. He spoke, his words a whisper carried away by the night breeze, "Be more careful, doll. This world ain't kind, especially to those with a heart as tender as yours." He placed his hand against your cheek, caressing it lovingly.

"Billy," you responded, the ache in your voice carrying a mixture of gratitude and longing. He placed a loving kiss on your forehead, his touch a hushed plea for silence. "Go to sleep, doll. I'll come by tomorrow morning," he whispered, giving you a kiss on the forehead, turning away.

"Billy, wait," an urgency surged within you, desperate to find a reason for him to stay. You took off your hat, intending to return it to him, a feeble attempt to anchor him in the moment. “Keep it. I prefer it on you,” he remarked, a bittersweet acknowledgment that stirred emotions too complex to unravel.

Locked in a gaze that spoke volumes, you inched toward him, a silent plea lingering in the air. As your fingers tightened around the hat, a palpable tension filled the space between you. His intense blue eyes held yours, revealing a tumult of unspoken struggles and desires. Your gaze shifted to his lips—slightly chapped yet irresistibly inviting. 

Closing the distance, you reached him, and, without hesitation, pressed your lips against his. The kiss was a desperate plea, an attempt to convey the emotions that words couldn't capture.

Billy's initial surprise melted into a shared passion, and for a moment, the world around you faded. His arms encircled you, pulling you close as if trying to etch the moment into his memory. As the intensity deepened, you let go of the hat, your hands finding their way to his jaw, pulling him even closer. He tasted your soft lips and felt your warm skin. He pulled away slightly, breath mingling with yours, lips lingering, an anguished pause in the silent night.

"Fuck, doll," he groaned, your foreheads leaning against one another, his hands gripping the fabric on your waist. You looked up into his eyes, witnessing the inner battle reflected in his gaze as he grappled with the decision to restrain himself or not.

You approached your lips to his cheek, giving him a slight peck, when you heard him whisper, "Fuck it." His lips crashed to yours, hungry, hot, and demanding, stealing your breath in a heated rush. His hand came up, cupping your jaw, angling your head to deepen the kiss as he slicked his tongue inside your mouth.

“Come, let’s go inside, yeah?” He asked. You nodded at him, as he gave you a quick kiss, ushering you inside, “good girl.” And in an instant, he’s moving toward you, wrapping his arms around your body and pressing you to his chest. You press your lips to his and moan at the taste of Whiskey. His tongue slides over yours in slow strokes that make your cheeks warm, but it’s when his teeth nip at your bottom lip that a whine escapes. 

His rough, calloused hands drop to the cusp of your neck, gripping your hair just tight enough to make you hiss. You arch into his touch as he starts to explore your body, mapping out every dip and curve. 

“Billy- Please… do something.” He moans a response into your neck as his lips slip down to leave love bites along the column of your throat. 

Eager to feel you, Billy tried to pull at the strings of your corset, but to no avail. It was too complicated to remove in the dark, and with the emotions aptly blinding him, Billy had no patience to try.

In the dark, you heard a flick of a knife, and you felt a cold tip of the blade against your skin before Billy’s voice comforted you, “Be a good girl and don’t move, ok?”

A rip ran through the air as Billy sliced your corset in half from the back. You stayed perfectly still, trusting him completely to cut the clothing off of you without harming you at all. The moment Billy had cut your corset, he dropped it to the floor and pulled your top off with it.

He immediately lets his hands drop to your breasts, nipples already pebbling from the cool air. He pinches and pulls at them for only a moment before he’s trailing kisses down your stomach.

Bilily stops just above your hip bones, “May I?” he asks, blue eyes peering up at you. “Yes. Billy, please.” You beg him, voice thick with desperation. He chuckles and then rubs his hand over your throbbing clit. He slides one, then two thick fingers into your dripping pussy. A whimper bubbles from your swollen lips as he pulls back to spit on your heat. His fingers curl, digits stretching and scissoring inside you. Your head feels like it’s spinning, arousal leaking from your cunt and down Billy’s fingers. 

Your hips are unable to escape his assault on your g-spot when he pins you down, and you let out a moan you hardly recognize as your own. “Shit, you’re so wet.” His teeth catch his bottom lip as he smiles down at your fucked-out form. 

Billy’s hand never slows, even as he grinds his palm into your poor clit. You cum not long after, waves of pleasure crashing over and drowning you in euphoria. Your body is trembling as you come back to Earth and Billy is there, watching you from between your thighs. He places a kiss on your sensitive clit before he stands back up, towering over you. 

“Please. Fuck me, Billy.” You say through heavy breaths. He feels his head spin at the sound of your voice. 

“Whatever you want, doll.” 

Billy lays you across the couch and crawls over you, leaning back to release his aching cock from the confines of his pants. Saliva pools in your mouth at the sight of him, pre-cum drips from his flushed, red tip.

He fists his cock at the sight of you below him, lips parted and breasts heaving. Billy leans his body over yours, trapping you between him and the cushions below you. You can feel the muscle covering his torso press against your tummy. He ruts his cock through your pussy, the head catching on your clit deliciously. You both moan at the feeling and link your fingers together. 

“Fuck, you’re so perfect. I’m gonna make you all mine”, Billy coos down at you, searching your face for any hesitance. You nod at him, earning you a keen smile and a quick kiss. “It’s gonna hurt, doll, I’m sorry.” Squeezing his hand, you hold your breath when he lines himself up with your entrance.

You gasp when his tip slips into you, already feeling like he’s split you in two. Salty tears start to well in your lash line at the burn of Billy’s cock stretching you out for the first time. He’s much bigger than you anticipated and you dig your nails into his skin. 

“I know, I know. Just breathe.” He tries his best to comfort you, gritting his teeth at the feeling of your cunt around him. His heart stings at the sight of you crying for reasons other than pleasure, but he can’t help it when his hips buck, pushing himself another inch deeper.

Billy knows he should feel guilty for liking the way you screw your eyes shut, the way your cunt flutters around him even though he’d worked you open already. He’s not even halfway inside you and your legs are trembling around his waist while he holds himself back from pushing in balls-deep. He can’t help but feel a sense of pride swell in his chest at the effect he has on your body. 

Billy’s hand leaves yours and drops to your clit, rubbing tight circles with his thumb. Your mouth opens into an “O” shape and your sloppy cunt grants him another inch.  He can feel the velvet of your walls drawing him deeper, euphoria building in your veins. With every circle drawn, Billy pushes in further and further until he’s finally buried to the hilt. He stills for a moment, letting your cock-drunk mind play catchup with your body. “I’m gonna move, is that ok, doll?”

He pulls out, making you whine at the empty sensation, then, he’s driving his hips forward again. You loop your arms around his neck as he attacks your insides. Any words you have die on your tongue as Billy sets a rough, passionate pace. His tan skin, covered in old and new scars, feels slick against yours as his cock splits your mind in half. You can feel Billy everywhere, you can taste him, touch him, smell him, see him. He’s completely overwhelmed your senses and given you nothing to think about other than him.

The air around you is humid and thick, the scent of sex swimming through it. Billy slips in and out of you with ease, the clear strings of your slick and his pre-cum coat your pussy lips like a gloss. You let your gaze fall on him, watching how his brows furrow with concentration while he molds your insides into the shape of him.

Billy lifts your hips in the air to get an angle that allows him to hit even deeper, pumping his cock into you so hard that the air is forced from your lungs. There’s no one else you could want, no one else who could ever make you feel like this. 

“Shit Billy. I’m so close.” You moan, a familiar warmth starting to coil in your tummy. He nods and slots his lips against yours for one final kiss. His tongue explores your mouth as his dick strikes your g-spot, sending you headfirst into bliss. You cum hard as every nerve in your body is set aflame. His hot, sticky cum floods your walls and leaks from around his cock. 

Silence lies thick in the air aside from your heavy breathing and the soft kisses you share. Billy leans back to peer down at where you’re connected and shakes his head at you. 

He picks you up and places you over his hips, leaning you back. “Can’t waste this, doll.” He tuts at you, gathering the cum leaking from your abused pussy on his tip and pushing it back in. Throwing an arm behind his head, a fucked-out grin crosses his features as you sink down on his cock, letting him rub against your most sensitive spots. A strangled moan sounds in the back of your throat as he slowly pushes back into the deepest parts of your cunt.

His tongue darts out to lick the sweat off of his cupid’s bow, large hands moving to slide down your hips to grab at the fat of your ass. He guides you up and down on him as you babble and cry.

“I’ve got you, doll.” His words send a shiver down your spine and you brace yourself on his broad shoulders. Your cunt flutters around him, “Fuck Billy’-” you cry out.

Billy groans at the sight of a white ring around his shaft, made from a mixture of his and your cum. “So tight… taking me so fuckin’ well.” He bucks his hips, tip grazing your g-spot just right, just enough to make your eyes roll up into your head. “C’mon, doll.”

He leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead, then captures your lips with his. He swallows every moan and hiccup as he pounds into you, only slowing when you clench impossibly tighter around him. Stars are dancing in your vision and pleasure is burning in your veins. You hear him swear again, he lets his head fall back onto the cushions and plants his boots flat on the floor. You nearly scream as he fucks back up into you. He’s growling something in your ear, but his words sound so far away. 

“Cum on my cock, doll. C’mon, do it. Do it for me.” Billy babbles in your ear as he loses his rhythm, now just slamming his hips into yours with all the force he could muster. Your arms are clinging to his neck and he has you trapped against him. White, hot pleasure hits you like a ton of bricks as you squirm on Billy’s lap. His teeth sink into your shoulder as he pumps his hot, sticky cum into your womb. 

He lays back on the couch, letting you rest against his chest.  With a tender touch, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your hair. His lips lingered for a moment. As he pulled back, his fingers began to stroke your hair slowly, each caress a testament to the unspoken passion that simmered between you.

“From now on, that hat stays on you, doll. Let everyone in town see you belong to me."

send me billy thoughts or requests pleaseee :)

[prettyboykatsuki]

chewtoy | s. gojo

✮ tags ; dead dove: do not eat, noncon, humiliation, abuse of power / power imbalance, master / servant relationship, titles like master satoru, he's being Really Fucking Weird (sniffs u a bunch...rip), oral(f!receiving) 18+

✮ wc ; 2k (????)

✮ a/n ; horrible horrible man. can he leave me alone. extension of this

"The young Master is calling for you."

You try not to flinch. Aiko gives you a warm, summery smile and a soft nudge to your side. You can only assume this means you've succeeded and she doesn't sense your disgust.

"He's so fond of you," She ends her sentence with a wispy sigh. "Must be nice to have a rich, powerful man fawn over you a bit, right?"

You remain indifferent. She smiles again. You think she is infinitely more beautiful than you. Soft, bouncy hair and smooth skin. Her naive nature makes her shine brighter than one thousand suns. It'd be nice if the young Master showed interest in someone like her.

You put the dream to rest quickly.

"You shouldn't keep him waiting," She hums. It's so innocent. "Go on, don't let me keep you."

You don't tell her you wish she would keep you. She is also right that you should not keep him waiting. If he's summoned you to his chambers deliberately, that means he is already feeling impatient. Master Satoru never seeks you out unless he is in some kind of mood.

He's had this habit since childhood. You've never made him aware of it, and you don't plan too. One of the few things you help you know what to expect from him.

You nod her along, tell her to finish up work in the living quarters to which she agrees merrily. Her spirits are lifted by the prospect of the young Master showing you fondness. Some part of you wishes you could share in her joy.

A pit of dread makes your steps heavy, but your footfall is light and beautiful. You are poised and cool as you walk along the dark, dreary hallways that lead to the Master's office.

A door swallowed in shadow, a single light shining on the golden plaque with the young Master's full name. You knock twice, announcing yourself.

"You're here," He says. You try not to flinch. You're certain you do not succeed. You are thankful he cannot see you - or you hope he can't. "Come in,"

You open the door and step inside to his office - shutting the door behind you. Muscle memory guides you to your curtsy. You bow politely.

"Yes, Master?"

"So stuffy," His voice makes your chest feel tight with discomfort. Frustration ebbs underneath it, cuts like a jagged edged knife. "At least call me, Satoru. Our relationship is much better than that, I thought."

"I could never be so informal to the young Master," You say, and then concede. "But I will call you Master Satoru, if you wish."

"How obstinate," He drawls. You do not life your head to see the face he makes. You already know what it looks like. It's burned into your mind. "But I suppose I'll make do. Lift your head."

You lift your head, but do not look at his face.

"Come closer,"

You step towards him, your lungs pushing air out of you manually. Remembering to breathe evenly is a herculean task. He beckons you closer until you're within distance of his touch.

He glances at you. "Look at me."

You try not to hesitate and force your eyes forward. His eyes undress you. Pointed gaze falls along your features, outlines your every inch, and analyzes your face. You remain even. He hums.

His frivolity is missing. This is suddenly more frightening. His mood is worse than you thought.

"Lift your skirt,"

Your muscles tense as you try not to shake. You succeed. He lets out a soft breath before he drops down onto his knees. You do not let yourself make any sort of expression, averting your gaze. He stares long and hard at your clothed pussy.

You tremble. He assess you silently, eyes flitting up.

"Sit in my chair with your skirt over your waist. So I can see you properly and all."

You listen to his instructions mindlessly. The velvet of his chair and warmth of his remaining body heat touch your bare ass and thighs. Satoru turns to you, still on knees. His hand wraps around your ankles and slips your shoes off of you.

You close your eyes. Sudden intimacy makes you slink back.

"Look at me."

It is is a command. You let your gaze fall on him again and watch on in excruciating nausea. Your stomach twists violently at the fragility of it all. Slender fingers hook into your knee socks and pull them down along your calve until they're off. His gaze catches yours. He does not smile at you. His hand comes around your ankle again and lifts your leg closer to his face. His nose presses against the bend of your foot.

He inhales. You try not to react but you can feel your eyes go wide. Feel your muscles clench, your heart sinking. Iron fills your mouth.

He lets his nose nudge up against the top of your calf.

"Young Master,"

He stares at you. Irritation flits through his gaze. There's no getting out of this, no mercy. You slink back again. He does smile that time.

Your body prickles with unwanted heat at the sensation. He licks along your legs, biting the supple skin - huffing the scent of your sweat every time he goes along. His teeth sink perversely into your flesh, sucking until there's throbbing, marks against your calves. The color of an orchid, purple and red. Fear strikes in you like a match. His grip on your ankles moves to the back of your calves and squeezes tight. He repeats the process on both calves intently.

There's claim to this. You know this part of him. He is claiming you with vicious confidence. Something with deeper magnitude then lust. For you, he is desire and ownership and want incarnat. A testament of his own beliefs. You willfully do no make noise aside from a gasp or breath.

You don't know how long it takes until he's satisfied with the state both legs.

He moves up. Bites the soft flesh of your thigh. You nearly spit out another useless plea. Shamelessness makes up his every move. His tongue slides over every single inch of your bare skin until his noses brushes along your cunt.

He doesn't lick you there. Not right away. Again he sniffs, breathes you in deep and uncomfortable. It's violating in all senses of the word, his grip tightening on your thighs as he huffs your scent. You haven't bathed. You've practically been running around since morning, but he doesn't let up and breathes you in anyway.

You squirm at that point. Your face contorts so slightly and he's watching you for it. His face finally cracks a smile and abject dread makes your spine lock up.

"Mm," He emphasizes the sound. It's so loud in such a quiet room. "That's it."

You don't have the strength to say anything.

It's frighteningly abrupt and rough, the feeling of his mouth along your pussy. He sucks at your clit from outside the fabric and you gasp - suddenly helpless. It's not the first time, of course not. But it's never this... random. Never this rough.

Your back arches at the sudden motion, face breaking - and Satoru grips you tighter and forces you back into the chair. Forces his tongue against your clit and sucks hard through the cotton material. Your body betrays you in its reaction - nipples pebbling underneath your clothes. Nearly screaming from the sensitivity. Your lower body is all ache - hickeys and bruises and bite marks making you throb perpetually. Too much, too much, too much.

Shame floods your system as the first spike of arousal forces itself from you - your cunt floods, gushing with a sudden spike of want from rough treatment. The sound of him sucking you so hard and drenching it with his saliva echoes across the room. You're sure it's traveling into the hall.

"Master Satoru," Your voice is even but it cracks on his name. Tears form at the corners of your eyes - fear and shame mixing into desperation. "Satoru,"

He hums into your pussy and you shake. "What is it? What wish would you like your master to fulfill for you.

"Please," Your voice is hoarse. Bone-deep exhaustion is out done by adrenaline. "Not through the fabric, please. It's dirty."

He sucks again and you keen - nails digging into your palms as you throw your head back.

"Your Masters spit soaking your panties is dirty? How rude." He teases. The whimper leaves your mouth without permission. You wish this would end soon but even amidst your fog you know that is not more than a pipe dream.

He takes them off. Rolls them down your thighs all wet and drops them. You let out a sigh of relief before his nose bridges touches your clit again. Swallowing the sound, you look away.

"It's soaked," He says conversationally, "Your needy little cunt is making a mess of your Master's chair. Tsk, tsk - so shameful."

"I'm sorry," You croak, unsure of what else to say. "I'll clean it."

He laughs, seemingly alleviated from his prior upset at the state of your humiliation.

"I'm sure you'll do an excellent job," He rests his hand over the mound of your sex - using pointer and thumb to spread your lips apart and get view of your swollen little clit. He breathes on it. "But you're still begging me for my attention down here. Filthy pussy for such a meticulous maid. Do you know how wet you are? Did you miss me so much?"

You don't answer him. He goes on.

"I thought of you all week," His voice is soft. Tinged with affection, or something like it. "Ahh, dealing with higher ups is such a pain."

You stare at him. He looks back at you with a smile. You flinch. You flinch certainly. "But I can always take it out on you, can't I? This perfect, filthy, needy cunt. It'll only every belong to me and I get to use it to my hearts content. I thought of that suddenly then called you."

It's not just your cunt he's interested in. That'd be relieving if that were the case. If he only ever used you to vent his sexual frustrations, treat you like a personal cocksleeve. You think it might be better that way.

He's too fond of you for that.

The young Master treats you like a chew toy instead. He bites, licks, slobbers, and misuses you. He might hump you to chase his high from time to time, might throw you around for rough sex should the mood suit him. But he's not a clueless oaf, some classless barbarian who only feels pleasure from his cock.

His violation is something else. It's deeper in scent, richer in taste. It is born from his greatness.

He's smart enough to know exploitation and that's what gets him off most. He exploits you. Exploits your reactive body, exploits your stoicism, exploits your dedication to your duty. You're his chew toy because you are designed to be unbreakable. You are indestructible.

But you have the perfect amount of give. You flinch, sigh, and whimper enough to make your Master thrilled. You squeak and moan like you're heat addled when he plays with you enough.

To Satoru, you're the most perfect thing to ever grace his life. His favorite toy that he's bitten at since he was just a boy and grew so fond of.

No matter how much you end up in tatters, Satoru can't help but love you with all of his heart.

You get exhausted being thrown around. But you can't go anywhere, either. He's so watchful of you. He might go crazy and bite if you were to disappear.

"Cum for me," He says, sucking on your clit much more softly. He's gentle but exact. Knows the ins and outs of your body enough to send you racing towards the edge with an unimaginable speed. You gasp and shudder, holding onto his chair for your life as an orgasm shoots through like lightning through a telephone wire.

You cum. You cum hard, bruised and mind-broken and nauseous and you cum so hard something spurts out of you and makes the chair wet. The young Master is nonplussed of course, and laps it up like a dog drinking water.

"Ahh, much better." He's pleased as he stands up and then bends down to your height. His hand cradles the back of your neck with a pleasant sigh as he forces a cum-soaked kiss onto your mouth. "Just as I thought, you were just what I needed."

Utterly defeated, you pull away with a gasp. "...I'm happy to serve you, Master Satoru."

"Such a nice sentence from your mouth, true or not." He gives you one more kiss, to the crown of your head. Too tender, too raw. "Prepare yourself to service me a bit more, then."

[reidmania]

Hey😁 you said request were open and i was wondering you could write a spencer reid fic where him and the reader get into a petty argument or something and he says something a little mean and has to grovel to the reader because she’s upset? I love your work by the way and you can add or take away whatever you want👍😊

not so funny | spencer reid

summary; after a rough day, Spencer accidentally takes his frustration out on you leading to a lot of guilt and grovelling.

warnings; spencer is mean, fem reader, he calls reader a bitch but he makes up for it, arguments, hurt x comfort, crying, it ends up being pretty cute.

an; ITS MY BIRTHDAY GUYS!!!!

“Come on spencer” You almost groaned as your voice itched with irritation, your hands flew up before dropping by your side. You were stood in the kitchen, trying to make dinner but the pasta on the stove and vegetables half cut on the counter were long forgotten.

Spencer spluttered, “You aren’t listening to me!” He groaned, bringing his hands up to his face dragging them down over his eyes as he turned his body away from you to the side. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes — this entire argument was pointless.

It started all because Spencer had come home after a bad day and was slightly snappy with you, just briefly and when you made a joke about it — he didn’t seem to take it as a joke.

“It was a joke — God” You sigh, turning back to the vegetables you were dicing before he walked in the door after work, but honestly with the annoyance bubbling in your chest you doubted you should be responsible for a knife right now.

His eyes widened, “But it’s not funny! You were just being a bitch” He mutters out, shaking his head before the realisation of his words fell on him the same time they fell on you.

Your entire face fell. Never had Spencer called you anything like that — he had commented repeatedly how much it pissed him off when peoples partners called them names like that. He had never been anything other than gentle with you.

He said your name as his eyes fell on your face. Before he could even open his mouth to apologise you were pushing past him to walk away. His hands reached out to grab ahold of your wrist as he repeated your name but you only flung his arm away from yours and you continued walking to the bedroom.

Spencer stood with his head in his hands as he knew better than to follow you right now. All the anger he had felt from the day that had built up slipped away when he saw the look on your face. — Hurt. He hurt you all because he had a crappy day.

He heard the bedroom door slam shut causing his shoulders to flinch slightly. He wanted nothing more than to follow you and spend the rest of the night apologising to you, he didn’t think there was anything he could do to express how sorry he was.

But he knew better than that. He knew it would just annoy you more if he walked in there right now and that was the last thing he wanted.

Instead he spent the next hour in the kitchen finishing the dinner you had started making — He knew wouldn’t taste nearly half as good as it would if you made it, his cooking skills no where near as good but he found himself doing it anyways.

He relished in the slight distraction but it only did so much as his mind continued travelling to you and the words that had left his mouth. He didn’t mean them. You weren’t a bitch. You were nothing of the sorts and the fact that he had even let that slip sent guilt coursing through his veins.

The day had been nothing but shit. To say the least. Everything was going wrong and Spencer couldn’t shake the annoyance. It didn’t help that right before leaving he had gotten into an argument with Morgan about something on a past case.

He didn’t mean to take his bad day out on you, he never did.

He finished the dinner, but the appetite he once had disappeared as it replaced the spot in his stomach with nothing but guilt. His feet trailed towards the door of your shared bedroom.

Every step was filled with dread as his mind traveled to every possibility. His heart shattered into a thousand little pieces as he heard your soft hiccup through the door.

“Honey?” He brought his hand up to knock on the door gently with his knuckles. His tone was the softest he had used his day — completely the opposite to what it had been the last time he spoke to you.

You didn’t reply but you went quiet. Probably trying to hide the fact you were crying. That made him feel worse — he deserved to feel worse. He knew that.

“Dinner is ready.. Are you hungry” He asked, not pushing his way through the door he was talking to you through. There was a pause on the other side of the door.

You, were curled up on the middle of your bed. Spencer’s hoodie was tugged up over your knees as they pulled to your chest. Your face was blotchy and scarred by the soft tears that stained your cheeks.

You hadn’t been able to shake Spencer’s words no matter how much you tried. You knew he was angry and had a bad day but you couldn’t help but be beyond mad — unfortunately when you are mad it ended in tears.

You wiped the tears from your face as if that would have any effect on the sound of your voice. “No.” You replied, trying to put on the most secure voice you could muster up but it wavered none the less and stayed quiet.

Your heart pounded as you closed in on yourself. “Can I come in?” He asked.

You wanted to say no, push him away and tell him to go fuck yourself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to, a small part of you aching for his comfort no matter how mad you were, you wanted to hear him apologise, even if you failed to believe it.

“Okay.” Your voice was small.

The door was being pushed open gently a moment after and you avoided meeting Spencer’s gaze, keeping your gaze fixated on the plush of the crisp white sheets that covered the bed.

If you did look at him, you would’ve seen his heart break all in his features at the sight of your tear stained face. His feet pattered towards you as he sat down on the edge of the bed, a respectable distance away from you, not wanting to push any boundaries.

“Im sorry” He said quietly, it sounded genuine and it burnt a way into your chest. You never brought your eyes to meet his as your mind failed to comprehend a response. You didn’t have a whole lot to say.

So instead, you just nod.

He frowns. “I am really - Im so sorry.” He said, shifting uncomfortably on the bed, eyes trailing over your face, uncomfortable silence washing over the room as he tried to figure out what to say next. “I had a shit day — which isn’t an excuse. I should’ve never called you that. I shouldn’t have taken my bad day out on you” He muttered.

You nodded curtly. “Okay.” Was all you said in response. There wasn’t a lot you could muster up as despite his apology his words burnt into the back of your mind, leaving a engravememt on your brain.

He frowned deepened. He knew he didn’t deserve your forgiveness and he didn’t expect it. He hurt you and he apologised hated that.

“I love you.” He said softly. Even if you didn’t believe his apology he wanted you to at least believe that he loved you.

You just nodded feeling a lump in your throat as your chest grew impossibly tight. You kept your arms wrapped tightly around your knees, holding them close to your chest almost as if to try and numb the burning sensation that made its way through to your ribcage.

You didn’t answer.

“I’ll leave you a plate in the microwave okay?” He muttered after a moment of silence. The silence dawned heavy and cold. You didn’t bother replying as he stood up.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment before a soft sigh left his lips. “Im really sorry” He apologised again.

You didn’t see him again that night, you assumed he slept on the couch which made you feel slightly bad but you were so.. hurt.

The argument was stupid. He knew that, he knew it was a joke and any other time it wouldn’t have bothered him in the slightest, he hated how the one time it did he took it out on you.

The next day you didn’t see Spencer when you woke up, you assumed he went to work which made a puddle of relief fill your stomach as you realised you were able to self indulge in your feelings while he was away.

You missed him.

The door opened at 7:34, a lot later than when Spencer usually arrived home and for a while you were genuinely considering maybe he wasn’t going to come home.

You turned to face him as he stepped into the kitchen where you were, the same positioning the two of you had been in when the argument first arose.

��Hi.” He said softly, placing his car keys on the counter. You looked over him and guilt fell as you he looked a mess.

He pulled his arm from behind his back, handing you a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. He chewed at his lip nervously as you didn’t say anything but took the flowers from his hand, looking over them.

Your favourites.

“I know flowers aren’t an apology, thats not why I got them” He said quietly, you remembered a conversation you had with him about hating how guys got their girlfriends flowers as an apology — and he agreed, going on to say that guys should be getting flowers constantly.

You perked up slightly as you furrowed your brows in confusion — if not an apology why now.

“The last ones I got you are browning.” He said, reading your look of confusion. Your lips pursed as you looked over at the vase you always kept the flowers Spencer got you in. They were in fact browning.

He dragged his hand through his hair as he placed a grocery bag on the table, before looking back at you. “You aren’t a bitch, you weren’t acting like a bitch, if anything I was.” He said, taking a few things out of the bag.

Your favourite snacks, your favourite drinks and a small velvet box.

Your heart tightened slightly.

He took a step towards you and you stayed in place, pulling your eyes away from the items on the table. “Im really sorry I ever said that. It was stupid and disgusting of me” He hesitantly brought his hand up to your face.

You tensed slightly but didn’t flinch away, allowing him to push strands of hair behind your ear. “You are gorgeous, inside and out. There isn’t a bitchy bone in your body and Im sorry.” He said gently.

“I am so mad at you” You said, the first proper thing you have said to him in days. He knows it shouldn’t but just hearing you talk made his pulse relax slightly — and then speed up all over again.

“Good.” He said gently, “Thats- Its a good thing. You should be mad.” He said softly, “Id never want it to be a situation where you allowed that.. where it happened often enough for you not to be mad. Be mad, mad is good. Don’t be silent” He said as his thumb brushed gently over your cheek.

You hummed. You knew deep down silent treatment was the worst for Spencer, but honestly last night you had nothing to say. “You can yell at me, scream — hit me if you want” His tone was so gentle. You just scoffed, “Im not going to hit you” You said.

He smiled, “I know.”

“You have a lot of making up to do you know.” You pushed out, trying to ignore the way your face instinctively leant into the warmth of his hand, relishing in the soft roughness of his hands.

He nodded, “I’ll do anything, sweet heart.” He said and his tone held nothing but genuine emotion.

“Okay.” You nodded.

“Okay?” He asked.

“Okay.. Spence I just said that” You huffed out. A smile lit his lips, he leant down to place a gentle kiss to the top of your head, you tried to hide the smile on your face.

“Okay.” He repeated making you groan but you were smiling nonetheless.

Spencer spent every second apologising for the next two weeks, buying you everything he saw that he thought you would like and going above and beyond until you physically and verbally said that you forgave him.

[iluvangel]

⌌┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

┊ .˚ 🍥 ༘┊͙ Naruto guys kinks ; ‘🥛 „ ↴

⌎┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ Canon/non ? NSFW

A-Z order

୨⎯ 🍥 ⎯୧

ASUMA

Strip go ! : like strip poker but go, because that’s the game he’s always playing, every time one of you lose, the loser has to strip

Burning : he would enjoy marking you with the tip of his hot cigarette and pouring hot wax on ur soft exposed skin

Blowing the smoke from his mouth into his partners

DEIDARA

Creampie : “it’s like an explosion into your body!” He wouldn’t enjoy hurting you so his normal explosions wouldn’t be a bedroom thing; so this would be the next best thing in his eyes

Loud sex : he himself is a very loud person so whether it’s you loudly moaning and screaming or him it would get him off everytime

GAARA

Graphiocrotica : you drawing on him would be the biggest turn on for him every time whether it’s you just running ur fingers on his skin making random shapes, or using a pen, marker, or even paint. Full on leaving each shape and word on his body

Praising : not extreme praising like complimenting him on how his body moves in you that would embarrass him but calling him a good boy or even your good boy would be a need for him

HIDAN

Blood play : blood is literally his thing it’s obvious it would be a kind of his

Knife play : another thing to draw blood from you, or even the fear in his eyes and wonder if he will cut you or if he’s just dragging the blade along your exposed skin

ITACHI

Praising : as the respectful person he is praising you and letting you know your doing a good job would be his favorite thing to do “don’t stop your making me feel so good” “your doing amazing” “good girl”

Being blindfolded : the thrill of feeling you touch his body not knowing where he’s going to feel you next

KAKASHI

Exhibitonism : having sex or playing with you in public places, not public to the point where he’s fucking you in the middle of the road but public like in alleys or in the forest during/after missions. Places that people could walk in on the two of you

Marking : he would love leaving hickeys and bite marks all over your body, small ones on your neck for people to see when their talking to you, and bigger ones where only the two of you can see “these are our little secrets”

KIBA

Acarophilia : scratching, him scratching you is his biggest turn on, but when it’s you scratching him it makes his soul leave his body

Marking : unlike Kakashi Kiba would be more open about where he leaves hickeys and bites on you, your neck would always have two big hickeys on each side of your neck accompanied by little ones that lead down to your collar bone, and bite marks everywhere and anywhere, he thinks would look pretty

NARUTO

Praising : he would love any and every praise you give him weather it’s telling how good he’s doing, complimenting how he moves or even simply telling him how amazing he is

Sleeping with it inside you : need I say more?

NEJI

Sexual arousal from intellectual conversations : you debating with him whether you win or lose the fact your smart enough to hold your own would turn him on or even just you talking about something you know a lot about

Bondage : having control over whether your body can move or not

OBITO

Being tied up : if he’s in his playful tobi mood it would bring him such thrill being tied and bound, whether it’s his arms and ankles or just cuffs on his wrists it would turn him on

Discipline : if he’s in his more serious mode he would get off on punishing you, spanking you or simply degrading you would be his favorite thing

SASORI

Toys : he loves to make things that’s just his thing, but seeing the way you move and wiggle when they’re inside you would be his favorite sight

Double penetration : him in one hole and his puppets or toys in the other with you sandwiched in the middle

SHIKAMARU

You telling him what to do and bossing him around

Degrading : he would love to tell you how pathetic you are and what a little slut you are for him (knowing damn well you have full control over him and his body)

YAHIKO (PAIN)

Edging/orgasm control : he wants to tell you when you can and can’t cum, he wants to hear your cry’s and whimpers as you beg him to not stop

Degrading : just like Shikimaru he would love to tell you what a pathetic little slut you are, and how you’re such a whore for him

୨⎯ 🍥 ⎯୧

[redr0sewrites]

not possible - Viktor x reader

🥀A/n: this was originally a request but it strayed wayyy too far off course... the writing had a mind of its own and im not sorry. but i AM sorry for not posting in a while.... ive been super hyperfixated on DC sorry

🥀Cw: fluff, non-sexual nudity, bathing, exhaustion/overworking

🥀Word Count: 1.2k words

🥀Synopsis: Viktor is overworking yet again, yet upon your insistence, finally takes a break.

Viktor was well aware that the candle at his side had long since burnt out, yet he was unwilling to find a replacement. the moon was bright tonight, and, combined with the soft blue glow emitting from the hextech he was working on, Viktor could make out the tools in front of him without any assistance.

he knew that working in the dim light was not a good idea, considering how straining ones' eyes could lead to faulty vision, but he couldn't bring himself to care. the ache in his bones ran deep, and his fingers shook with each breath. of course Viktor knew he should turn in for the night, but he found himself stuck in his chair, mindlessly fiddling with his most recent hextech project.

he was so engrossed in his work, he barely noticed your approach until you were practically on top of him. familiar hands find purchase on his shoulders and he jumps, only to melt back into your touch.

"ah, it's you," Viktor murmurs, turning around to face you. "may i ask, what are you doing up so late?"

"collecting you," you murmur, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. "it's already two in the morning. you've been here long enough."

Viktor sighs, and allows you to press a few more kisses to his face. the bags beneath his eyes were heavy, he was stiff and sore, and above all, he was exhausted.

joining you back home was certainly enticing, and hextech could always wait until tomorrow. and yet, the troublesome, burning itch beneath his skin wouldn't dissipate. he needed to complete just one more ruin combination, just finish this one little task, and then he'd let himself rest. at least, that's what he'd been telling himself for the past three hours.

"i can tell your overworking yourself again," you whisper, and Viktor huffs indignantly.

"overworking is, eh, a strong word. i am perfectly capable-" you cut him off by cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

"Viktor, i am in no way denying your capabilities. however, you still need sleep. so, come back with me, and you can continue working tomorrow after a full nights rest. does that work?"

Viktor heaves another weary sigh, but agrees. you silently watch as he stands and steadies himself with his cane, not wanting to appear too overbearing but still concerned about his exhaustion. you wish you could alleviate some of the stress and burden that he carries, even though he relentlessly assured you that loving him was enough.

meanwhile, Viktor wordlessly packs up for the night. he knew you were trying to mask it for his own dignity, but the concern on your face was evident in the slightest furrow of your brow and pinch of your lips. he found it hopelessly endearing how you worried over him, and only wished that you would stop for your own sake.

after all, he was doing this for you. for the chance to live happily with you someday, after saving the lives of so many others. hextech consumed so much of his time, yet Viktor intended to make it up to you tenfold when you two would grow old together.

"you ready to head home?" your voice slices through his thoughts like a knife through warm butter, and he finds himself unable to do anything but nod. you did not hesitate to take his hand as you two walk back towards your shared abode, nor did you complain when he had to pause and catch his breath after some particularly bad pain in his leg. by the time you both arrived at your home, Viktor felt even more exhausted.

"i know it's late, but do you want to take a bath before going to bed?" your question lingers in the air for a few seconds before Viktor nods, and you begin setting up. you both know the warm water would only soothe his aching joints, and provide momentary relief from the pain he suffers from.

🥀

its not long before you and Viktor are curled against eachother in your large bathtub after washing off. he presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder as he absentmindedly washed your back, and you let out a relaxed sigh. you were both night-owls, but Viktor was much more accustomed to fighting off exhaustion.

you bite down on your bottom lip as more worries begin to seep into your mind. you feel almost selfish for missing him when he works so hard, and yet you want nothing more than to take all of his stress away. Viktor is quick to notice as you slip deeper in thought, between your tense muscles and quickened breathing, he can read you like a book.

"what are you thinking about, darling?"

another weary sigh escapes you.

"its just... you've been so stressed lately, i just wish i could alleviate some of the burdens you carry.. i know what you do is important, but i still wish i could be around you more often and help you.. y'know?" you let out another sigh. "i just.. miss you sometimes. and i worry. you know i worry.." Viktor chuckles at your words before turning you around to face him, the warm water around you both sloshing gently against the edge of the bath.

"you do more than enough already. believe me, everything i do, i do for you. for us. i love you," he murmurs, and presses a kiss to your forehead, "and nothing will change that. i can't guarantee that i'll always be around... but i will try to stop staying in the lab so late." Viktor's lips crinkle into a soft smile, and you can't help but kiss him in response.

Viktor always feels as though he's floating when you kiss. your soft lips against his, the contrast of his nimble, calloused hands against your smooth skin, your scent, your taste, it was all gloriously intoxicating. you hum against his lips before slowly pulling away, lashes fluttering against his cheek from your proximity.

Viktor leans in to whisper in your ear, his lips just ghosting your temple.

"i think it's high time we went to bed, dear. the waters getting cold, and i wouldn't want my beautiful darling to be exhausted tomorrow, hm?" you sigh at his flattery, yet agree regardless. as Viktor leans against the tub to stand up, you suddenly remember something and grab his hand to get his attention.

"hm?"

"by the way, about what you said earlier.... i love you more."

"that is not possible, my dearest."

GRRR SO HAPPY THIS IS DONE LMAO- sorry i havent been super active ive been on a huge DC kick (specifically the batfam/dick grayson) and suffering from writers block BUT HERE I AM AGAIN!!!!!!!!! ANYWAYS HOPE U ENJOYEDDDD PLS FEEL FREE TO SEND IN REQUESTS (esp dc... HEHE)