#apologies if this is long but I am going to be feral for a moment

[simp-ly-writes]

Recap, Rewind, Fast-Forward

─────── · · The Comment Section (pt.3.5)

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x gn!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: A recap of everything; the people and moments in your life recently. A rewind to reminice on how many years you and spencer have known one another. And a fast-forward on what is to come in your life in becoming a movie-star.

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, jealous!Spencer, angst, social media au, attempt at comedy, slowburn, light swearing, fluff, mutual pinning, irl celebrities, friends that act like lovers, friends/lovers.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | PART TWO | PATH THREE | PART FOUR

─ · · A/N: thank you so much for this ask, anon! post number 200 for me yippee!

─────── · ·

RECAP: 🔔 (name)s_username just posted for the first time in awhile.

Liked by co_mill, spennser, sydney_sweeney, and others

(name)s_username how things have been going...

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spennser i demand a rematch.

↳ (name)s_username accept the truth and let me be better at something than you ↳ spennser you are better than me in many ways ↳ (name)s_username okay then, name some. ↳ spennser you are smarter, funnier, prettier, kinder, and are way better at uno and table tennis than me ↳ (name)s_username shut up now please 😃 ↳ noahgrossman214 so this was what had you blushing earlier... ↳ (name)s_username you too, shut up now please 😃 ↳ username44 they are perfect together, your honour. ↳ username21 (yourshipname) forever!

username01 I am so in love with you (and spencer).

username54 so excited to watch the film!

sydney_sweeney thank you for making me look cute! 🥰

↳ (name)s_username you always look cute, my lover ❤️ ↳ sydney_sweeney 😘

username33 get a life. work a real job like the rest of us.

co_mill marry me.

↳ (name)s_username yes. ↳ shaynetopp what the hell man! ↳ spennser yeah, what the hell man! comment deleted by user ↳ glen_powell they are canonically my spouse first! ↳ (name)s_username i'll always love you, first husband ❤️ (throuple?) ↳ glen_powell throuple ❤️ ↳ co_mil throuple ❤️ ↳ username54 spencer really has me out here crying over instagram comments 😭

username27 I aspire to be as cool as you 😔

username11 watched the apology video, I forgive you!

username88 please be in more videos with Damien, I love your dynamics!

username19 did anyone manage to see spencers deleted comment?

─────── · ·

REWIND: 🔔 This post is getting a lot of likes, check it out!

Liked by spennser, ianhecox, shaynetopp and others

(name)s_username crazy it is to think I met you 12 years ago, here's to another 12 and then some my best friend ❤️

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spennser wouldn't have made it this far without you 🫶

↳ (name)s_username same goes to you 🫶 ↳ spennser 😊 ↳ (name)s_username 😊 ↳ username01 i am going feral over here, gnawing at the gates.

username23 new (yourshipname) lore just dropped! they met in college?!?!?

username45 thank you (name) for supplying us with new spencer images!

username32 going to find a bridge, wish me luck 🤞

username50 sobbing, crying, throwing up. /positive

ianhecox one of my favorite duos

↳ (name)s_username could never beat you and anthony though 😄 ↳ anthonypadilla i think we are in different competition brackets... ↳ (yourshipname)updates 👀 the tea! the shade!

username90 there is NO WAY you two have been pining after each other that long. how're you both still alive and functioning??

username22 if this is the only type of anniversary we are ever going to receive from you two, i will accept it with a heavy heart.

co_mill love you two!

username74 OMG they are getting married and nobody thought to tell me!!

↳ username01 we wish 😭 they are just celebrating their friendship here, nothing romantic (yet)...

username07 he is so fucking cute, (name) is you don't want him, let me at him!!!

─────── · ·

REWIND: 🔔 You got tagged in spennser's post. click to view.

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spennser 12 years went by way too quickly with you.

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mobile_suit_alex you and me don't have a friendship anniversary 😔

↳ username99 tell me about awkward... 😬 ↳ username14 rip. ↳ spennser we can make something work 👍

(name)s_username I can't believe it either 😆

(name)s_username play lego star wars later? 🫶

↳ spennser hell yeah. 🫶

username39 please kiss already, everyone knows you want to.

username17 we might see GTA 6 before spencer and (name) get together, i don't like this timeline.

angelagiovanagiarratana you guys are so darn cute, i want to eat it 😤

filmingamanda lowkey jealous.

↳ username12 join the party! ↳ username43 we have been here

username84 NO! You both don't get to hold each other and call it "just-friends!" I am officially calling you and (name) out!

username15 someone hold me like that, please. it would fix me.

username19 anyone else raising eyebrows to that last pic?

username61 spencer be holding on for dear life fr.

smoshgames we are so happy for our parents!

↳ spennser i thought i told you guys not to use the account for things like this ↳ smoshgames sorry not sorry, boss! 🏃‍♂️💨 ↳ anthonypadilla i thought i was dad? ↳ username22 i can't with these comments 🤣

username68 can't wait to watch your boyfriend/girlfriend go kiss a bunch of hot people on the big screen! 😄

username39 SCREAMING FROM THE TOP OF MY LUNGS.

username01 i like to think that last picture is spencer being jealous over some comments and wanting to prove a point mwahahahha!!

↳ (youshipname)updates yes, please! feed the delusions!! ↳ username71 i love fan-canons, i love this community ❤️

username57 make more content. i am bored.

─────── · ·

FAST-FORWARD: 🔔 (name)s_username just posted, check it out!

Liked by sydney_sweeney, glen_powell, and others

(name)s_username sneak peak: kisses! we are almost done filming now, so excited for you all to see it 🥹

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sydney_sweeney you know, i'm not too happy with that last shot. want to try that scene again? 😉

↳ (name)s_username 😳 o-oh? ↳ glen_powell i'm left out again, i swear you two- ↳ (name)s_username you love us both, who are you kidding 😘 ↳ glen_powell well, I can't deny that 🫶 ↳ username22 HEY!! 😡 that hand-heart is spencer and (name)'s thing!

username67 is this a car accident? because i can't look away!

username88 so, nobody on smosh is saying anything?? okay then...

chickenshopdate i am formally asking you out.

↳ (name)s_username yes ma'am! 🫡

Sonypictures see the full scenes of sydney_sweeney, glen_powell, and (name)s_username this winter!

↳ username99 what happened to the holiday release? ↳ Sonypicture hi username99! filming has processed a lot faster than planned and we want this movie to have its own time to shine with little competition. ↳ username50 hey- the sooner i can watch this- the better!

romcom_interviews i think i need a cold shower after these pictures, oh shoot! wrong account!

username70 i can't stand all these promotional accounts trying to act funny, like get out of my feed.

username36 I LOVE U (NAME), PLEASE CAN WE HAVE CHILDREN?

↳ username07 well, at least they were polite about it...

username31 I am having emotional whiplash. 😣

username01 (name) really be out here living like (y/n).

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: something a bit different, what did you all think? thank you all for the support on every part so far- means a lot to me and makes me want to write more! what are you looking for to in the next part?

─ · · TAGLIST: @lisiliely

[sombrashe]

Hii! Hope u r having wonderful day!! 🩷✨

Wanted to request Namgyu x reader, but he's crazy, like really crazy, crazy like in bathroom scene and while going to unal!ve some X's..? He's so psycho, so well played! Love it 🤌

Could be smut, whatever you feel like 🩷!

ahhh thank you sm for the request this was so much fun to do omg i finally saw the scene where he goes off the deep end and it makes me feral / i hope he's crazy enough in this, i wanted to do the most without outright having him kill reader lol

crazy, crazy, crazy ∿ nam-gyu x reader

suggestive

It's loud, people yelling and lights flashing. You stay hunkered down back to back with Junhee under the bunks waiting for your moment. Through all the screaming your ears twitch and pick up the sound of glass.

Looking around your eyes land on that dude who was always with the rapper. What was his name again? Namsu? No wait, Namgyu. His voice is faint and you can't pick up the words just inflection. He's yelling at someone but you're unable to make out who. Scrambling to his feet you watch as he rushes the person behind a bunk. You lose visual and your veins run cold.

When the lights come back on you're in position, your only job to protect Junhee. Which honestly thank god, you did not want to fight unless absolutely necessary. You're given a handgun, one of the few people who actually know how to use one. Daeho gives you an encouraging smile despite the cruel fear covering his features. Setting up a spot in the corner you tell Junhee it's for her whenever she needs to rest, to always come here when needed.

She'll walk off to talk to Myunggi and leave you alone. Silence heavy in the air as you sit against the corner of the room, head against cool walls. After a few hours of nothing you'll hear movement coming from the front of your little fort. Raising the gun you wait for whoever it is to show themself. When their face comes into view you raise your gun to really take aim.

"I just came to talk."

"Then drop the fork."

"You know I can't do that."

"... Fine. Sit over there."

You shift further back and allow him access to the small area. He'll crawl across the floor and sit directly across from you. His jacket having long been abandoned.

"Remember the day we met?"

"Yeah. My first day on the job you came over and begged me for a hit of my vape."

"Yeah. Blue Raspberry."

"Why did you come over here? To reminisce?"

"No, to apologize."

Your fear is palpable. Apologize for what? You haven't interacted with him since before the games. He'll reach forward and take your hands in his. Your fingers twitching as he got close to the gun.

"I should have talked to you that first day. Not left you alone."

"I survived."

"But you haven't lived, I saw you. Always in the back being that plus one throughout the games."

One hand leaves your and he reaches up, you move your head back slightly but not enough. Gripping your hair in his fist he yanks your head back until your neck is utterly exposed. Gun in hand you have it aimed at his abdomen. Prickles of pain tickle your skin at he presses the tines of the fork to your jawline. His eyes are wild as he looks down at you. You can't bring yourself to shoot, years of being by his side makes you hesitate.

"I missed you."

"Hell of a way to show it."

"Touched myself to the thought of you."

"Am I supposed to say the same?"

"No, just thought you should know."

"Gonna kill me now?"

An expression flashes over his face and his eyes soften as they take in your expression. Lessening his grip you roll your neck to loosen your muscles. Lowering the gun you watch him closely as he sinks back onto his knees. He pets down your cheeks and squeezes the fat there before retreating. Slipping out through a bunk you're left shaking and alone with the silence once more.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

animal

chapter 5

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: swearing, drinking/alcohol, smoking cigars, violence, angst

series masterlist │my masterlist

your relationship with logan is strained, breaking apart at the seams.

ever since your conversation the dynamic has shifted. you don’t want to lose logan, and so in the light of day you kiss and cuddle and he watches you complete your chores. he makes dry comments as you cook together and you talk and laugh over dinner. he carries you into the bedroom and kisses the insides of your thighs until you’re begging for him, clutching at his hair as he eats you out.

but in the dark, when night falls, so does the facade of your relationship. he still sleeps in the guest room, but you no longer go join him when he has nightmares. if he wants to pretend like everything is fine and doesn’t want to talk to you, you won’t pressure him to do so. you’re following his lead, and it’s making you both obviously miserable.

he hardly ever actually sleeps, and you know that - sometimes you still wake up to his screams of pain and horror. he spends most of his nights drinking, sitting outside on the porch with a bottle or two. you often find him there in the mornings, watching the sunrise, face pale and eyes lined with thick, dark bags.

he asks you to buy him cigars when you go into town and you do. he smokes them on the porch while you bring him coffee, grabbing the empty bottles of liquor to throw out. he mutters a “thanks” but says nothing else, and you return to the kitchen to eat your own breakfast alone, without him.

it always takes a few hours before he can shake off the lingering tensions and horrors that follow him at night, before he can really be a version of himself again.

he’s angry too, all the time. that feral, violent edge to logan that you’d noticed through his animal behaviours seems heightened now. his claws come out more, becoming a familiar sight. he never takes it out on you, he’ll walk away before he ever gets close to doing that, but he becomes destructive in his anger.

he punches the walls, claws piercing through the drywall along with his fist. but he always fixes it after, and he seems less tense when he’s using his hands like that. to fix and patch-up rather than destroy.

he takes to fixing things around the house, changing the shower head so it has better water pressure, repairing the old hinges on the doors to the cupboards that always creak. he builds you a new bookshelf as an apology - or at least you think it is, though he never says the words outright - after getting shitfaced and yelling at you one night.

and yet you feel so distant from him. there’s a painful ache in your chest every time you see his handsome face, a longing to touch him and kiss him and crawl into his skin. the physical proximity does nothing to alleviate your loneliness. you miss him, so much.

he’s laying under the kitchen sink, shirt off and tossed on the floor beside him, and you take a moment to admire him, the thin sheen of sweat covering his chest, the dark hair that you want to bury your face into.

you shake your head, snapping yourself out of your daze and proceed outside. you have things to do, and there’s no use getting distracted by logan when you know it won’t amount to any changes, won’t make this thing between you better.

honestly, you’re counting down the days until he tells you he wants to leave, find his own place, start his own life. or restart, you suppose. you expect it to happen any day now, when he runs out of things to fix around your house and can no longer keep himself busy and distracted.

and then one night he returns home drunk. he’d gone out without telling you, skipping dinner together to go to some bar or another. you ate alone, hardly picking at your plate, appetite gone. 

you’ve never seen him like this and you wonder how much he must have drunk to get to this point, slurring his words and stumbling, a heavy weight that you struggle to hold onto, keeping him upright so he won’t collapse into nearby furniture. he has a half empty bottle in hand and you gently pry it out of his grip, placing it down on the nearest surface you can find, just to get it away from him.

he’s muttering words you can’t quite understand, talking to himself more than he’s talking to you, but it’s more words than you’ve heard him say in a while. you blink back the tears that threaten to rise on your waterline as he holds you against him, close your eyes to focus on the scent of him that surrounds you, the sharp tangy smell of alcohol lingering on him, cutting through his usual musk, cigar smoke and wood and him.

“i’m gonna put you to bed,” you say gently, because as angry as you are with him right now, as much as you’re trying to put distance between you, he’s still logan, and your heart beats for him regardless.

you lead him to the guest room, but he shakes his head and wrenches his hand out of your hold, stumbling towards the door to your room, to what was once yours and logans before he’d started fading away. breathless, you follow him, watching him collapse onto your bed, face buried in your pillow. he lets out a deep groan, wiggling around in your spot until he’s comfortable.

you’ve missed the sight of him in your room, missed falling asleep to his face and waking up in the warmth of his arms, the sound of his steady breathing surrounding you with a sense of peace, his hands tracing your face as if you were a work of art. you don’t even notice you’re crying until you feel warm tears rolling down your cheeks.

“don’t cry - hate when you cry,” logan slurs as he reaches out his arms towards you, beckoning you to come closer to him.

it makes you cry harder, and within moments he’s holding you. you’re straddling him, legs bent against the comforter at an odd angle but you don’t care. he presses his hot mouth to the top of your head, a barely-there brush of his lips that has you warming up from within.

“shh,” he tries to shush you, rocking the two of you back and forth in a horribly uncoordinated rhythm, “don’t cry. i love you.”

it’s the first time he’s said those three words to you, and you wish you could have heard them under any other circumstance. not when he’s drunk out of his mind, not when you’re barely holding yourself together, not after weeks of hardly speaking. it’s not the right time - hell, it’s probably the worst moment he could have picked.

“don’t say that,” you tell him, voice raw, “if you don’t want me to cry, please don’t say that.”

“but-” he protests, “do you love me?”

it’s bittersweet, this moment you’re sharing. you can’t remember the last time he’s been so honest with you, so forthright with his feelings, and yet you can’t be certain he’ll even remember this conversation in the morning. you can’t be certain this will change anything at all.

you sigh, and hope that logan’s mutation doesn’t involve him remembering everything that happens even when he’s shitfaced drunk. you don’t want your first admission of love to be a sad one, but he’s looking at you with the biggest puppy-dog eyes, your logan, and you can’t leave him hanging, can’t just not answer. and you can’t lie either, he’d be able to smell it in your scent, to read it in the way your heartbeat quickens.

“yes, logan, i do.” you whisper, pressing a hand against his cheek, the scruff of his beard.

“why are you mad at me?” he slurs, and you scoff.

“because you’re pretending everything’s fine and you’re pushing me away,” you reply, “you don’t talk to me anymore, and i can’t read you like i used to. you barely show any emotions, you just close everything away. i’m mad because yes, logan, i love you, and that means i want to know what’s going on with you.”

“but ‘s better now,” logan protests.

you frown. he sounds so sure of himself, and you wonder how he could possibly see the state of your current relationship and think of it as better. maybe you were right, maybe this is all ending.

“how?” you whisper, “how are things in any way better?”

he buries his face in your neck, warm breath forming condensation on your skin. when he speaks you can feel the words more than you hear them, muffled as they are. “i was an animal before. a monster with no control. ‘s better that i act human.”

you laugh but it’s unhappy, “it’s not better at all. i want the real you, whoever that is, more human or animal, i don’t care. but i want the version of you that spends time with me instead of a bottle, the version of you where we can talk through our issues. because i get that things are different logan, i hear your nightmares and i don’t expect you to be the same now that you remember all those awful things. you’re traumatised, i understand that. but i wish you could try to open up, let me love you. don’t push me away. and i want you to love me in the ways that are natural to you, that make you the happiest, whatever that means.”

you wake up to an empty bed, the spot beside you still warm but steadily growing colder. you blink open your eyes, blearily, making out the dent in the mattress where logan had slept, the smell of cinnamon and sugar invading your senses with each new breath you took.

you find logan in the kitchen, wearing one of your little aprons, far too small for him, the strings barely long enough to meet at the back. the sight makes you giggle, silly and domestic as it is. he’s pulling fresh cinnamon buns out of the oven, and you fight the urge to look around as if someone is about to pop out at you. 

“want one?” logan asks. in your daze you hardly noticed him turning around to face you. “they’re uh- an apology. i used your recipe and i’m good at following the instructions so they should be okay.”

he refuses to meet your eyes, shifting on his feet, restless energy thrumming through him like he’s expecting to have to run away at any moment. before, you would have said that he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to run and hide when things get hard, always fight and never flight. it seems right for him, with his gruff demeanour and the violent edge to him. but you’ve lived through him avoiding you, running from his problems. you refuse to let it happen again.

he’s skittish, nervous even, and you take a moment to appreciate the sight. it’s lovely, gorgeous even, compared to the anger and depression and irritation that you’ve gotten accustomed to from him. but you don’t let him linger in silence for too long.

“an apology?” you repeat his words, placing your chin in your hands, “for what?”

“pushing you away.”

so he remembers. you wonder if he recalls every word you spoke to him under the cover of darkness, made brave by the thought that he likely wouldn’t remember, that none of this would come back to you in any way, or if it’s more of a vague image that floats around in his mind, edges blurred and sections of the night skipping through.

does he remember the way you told him you loved him, the words tinged with sadness and desperation? you weren’t expecting the sudden change of heart, the way he so easily said the very thing he’s been avoiding admitting for so long.

“you don’t have to apologise for that,” you say, though you appreciate it, “you were going through something. you still are.”

“i still need to apologise,” he argues, and you smile at the determination in his voice, “it’s- fuck- i’m not good with words. i messed up. i know that. but i’m almost two hundred years old, you know that? and i remember every single, shitty day of it. i haven’t had a good life, princess. i hurt and kill everyone that gets close to me. and i don’t wanna hurt you.”

you stride right up to him and he looks terrified when you raise your arms, but all you do is wrap them around his neck, standing on your tip-toes so you can press a kiss to his cheek, feeling his scratchy beard against your lips. his hands find a place on either side of your waist, the position so natural, so comfortable.

this is how you’re meant to be, in each other’s arms, not fighting or hiding away from one another.

“you did hurt me,” you say, watching the way his jaw tenses at the reminder, “but i’m tougher than i look. and i don’t believe that your past defines you. who you are right now, how you treat me, that’s what decides my opinion of you. although right now you’ve got some grovelling to do.”

he grunts in agreement, “i’ll make it up to you, darlin’. however you want.”

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog @insanesosciopath @eridektbh

if your name is in white it means i couldn’t tag you for some reason. i’m very sorry :(

[judyx526]

Genya Shinazugawa NSFW Alphabet

Note: I normally don’t post on Tumblr at all. But I noticed a lack of Genya fan fiction and it seems a lot of people feel this way, so I made a simple one. Genya is 4+ years older for this, so he’s around 20-21. This is 18+ kids... I know where to find you. 

A=Aftercare(what they’re like after sex)

The king of aftercare. He makes sure you’re taken care of and comfortable. Always grabs a damp towel and water after doing the deed. Need more pillows and blankets? You name it and he’ll grab it. Want to soak in the bath? Man’s booking it with you in his arms to the bathroom. Considering his father was an abusive jackass to his own mother and did more harm than good, so he’ll do anything to take care of you.

 ---

“Are.. Ahem are you alright?” Genya croaked

After catching your breath, your hands soothed their way into his thick hair. A smile graced your lips as you nodded, “Yeah… I am a little thirsty though.”

He stared at you for a moment then set his forehead on yours and responded with “Alright..”

Within minutes, Genya was running a warm, damp towel along your thighs and stomach while you drank some water. Once you were finished, you gently stopped him from overcleaning and pulled him into an embrace, a small blush evident on his cheeks as you pressed his face against your chest. The man was asleep in seconds as you massaged his scalp, and pressed kisses to his head.

B=Body Part(their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

On himself, he likes his arms. Despite not having the best confidence in himself, he knows he can depend on his strength, whether it be to protect or please you.

On you, he loves your neck and thighs. Though he’ll never admit it out loud, he loves leaving marks on both spots. Especially on your thighs. There’s just something about biting and sucking on such sensitive areas that drives him crazy and makes him want to leave more than intended.

---

Your legs were starting to cramp from how long he’d been holding them on top of his shoulders. Even so, it was undeniable that Genya was enjoying himself and taking his time leaving hickies on your plump thighs. Despite the awkward position, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him because of how good his teeth felt on your skin. With a small tug on his hair, his dark eyes met yours with a hint of concern. A hum escaped your throat as you nudged his face closer to your entrance with a blush. Red enveloped his cheeks before pulling your hips closer to his face. This man was truly gonna be the death of you.

C=Cum

Most of the time, on your stomach or back. There’s something about making a mess of you that makes him go feral. Half the time, it’s what gets him going for another round.

However, every once in a while, he’ll release inside you and watch in awe as his cum seeps out. You always giggle a bit at his fascination with the staring, but you love it either way. You love seeing him go crazy from it, even if you end up walking funny later.

---

“Enjoying the view, love?”

Genya jolted a bit at the comment before muttering an apology.

“Don’t say sorry. I like it too.”

“Ah.. good to know.”

D=Dirty Secret

There’s not much Genya will keep from you, after all he promised to always be honest. However, he has had thoughts of you taking control over him more than usual. I.E. tying down his hands and feet while you have your way with him. Watching you ride him time and time again always gets his heart racing and his imagination running wild.

One other secret is the fact he likes it up the ass. How he found out was by pure accident. He was on top of you when your hand traveled down his back to grab his ass cheek and a couple of your fingers dipped into his hole. He didn’t even think you realized what you were doing considering how tight your grip was on his plump ass. Afterward when he happened to be on a solo mission, he reached down and tried it for himself. Let’s just say his face was beet red after. Overtime, he’s been working up the courage to ask you about it, but he gets too flustered by the time you’re in front of him. One day he’ll tell you. Hopefully.

E=Experience(how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

This is Genya we’re talking about, the man blushes whenever he interacts with girls period. He was surprised with being able to pull you for himself. Once you had reached that critical point in your relationship where you two were getting a little too touchy, he was embarrassed to admit he’d never had sex before. But you didn’t blame him. Being in the Demon Slayer Corps didn’t grant either of you time to have that pleasure, even if it was for yourselves. However, the first time you two had sex was truly a once in a lifetime experience.

---

“Um, Genya?”

“Y-Yeah?”

“Can.. Can you kiss me for a minute? Please?”

His only response was to stare then place his lips on yours and rest his hips on yours. A moan hummed in your throat as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and legs around his hips. You felt one of his calloused palms cradle your face as the kiss became more passionate. Even knowing how strong he was, it made your heart swell with how gentle he was with you.

A few minutes later, you whispered his name and pulled away, cradling his face.

“Be gentle, okay?”

He simply nodded with a small smile then pecked your lips once more.

F=Favorite Position

You might as well be asking him to choose between you and his favorite meal. He can never truly pick a favorite position; however, he does have a top three:

1) Cowgirl

2) Missionary

3) Upstanding Citizen[basically fucking you against the wall]

He does have a weak spot for doggystyle, especially when he’s got a lot of energy and his confidence is higher than usual. He feels bad when you can’t feel your legs after, but you have no qualms or objection when he’s rougher. It’s a big turn on actually.

---

This was the third round, and you two were just getting started. You had been separated for almost a month due to a really important mission he was assigned. Shinobu had just released him from the hospital as most of his injuries were healed. Your grip on his hair was almost terrifying as he held your thighs open and thrusted into you, pressing you back against the wooden wall. His face was buried into your neck with your head arched back.

“O-Oh! God, Genya… Right there!”

“Fuck…! I missed you so much, baby..”

His teeth attached themselves to your throat, causing a loud moan to echo through the room.

You had a lot of catching up to do.

G=Goofy(are they serious all the time or will they make you laugh?)

Genya has always been a serious man, just like his brother. That includes when you’re having sex.

But every once in a while, he’ll end up making you giggle while trying to be all stoic. It’s unintended, of course. However, if it makes you happy, he won’t mind. Your laugh is the music to his ears.

---

“Heh.. G-Genya…” you utter out as you try not to laugh at the state of his wild hair nearly covering his eyes.

“Ah shit..” he cursed at himself as he tried to fix the mop of hair, slightly irritated he didn’t tie it up.

“It’s… It’s okay, love.. Pfft, r-really..”

“But you’re laughing!”

“Because it’s adorable!”

“I’m not supposed to be adorable, damnit!”

A laugh erupted from your chest as you held your stomach. You truly didn’t mean it, but his flustered attempts to make himself all serious for your sake was a bit comical. Genya made a move to get up with a huff but you grabbed his arm and pulled him into your embrace with a giggle.

“I promise it’s okay. I love it when you’re like this. You don’t have to be perfect for me. I love you for you.”

A small blush rushed to his cheeks before he pouted in defeat and muttered “Thanks..”

H=Hair(are they well-groomed?)

Even before he met you, he always made it a rule to keep himself well kept and clean. He’s an overall clean person despite his condition to consume demons. Genya keeps himself trimmed and well-groomed, though there are times he completely shaved off all the hair.

On you; however, he could care less if you were as smooth as a baby’s bum or as hairy as a bush, it won’t keep his oral fixation down. He’ll eat you out till you crush his head and suffocate him. ‘A hell of a way to die’ as Sanemi put it.

I=Intimacy(how are they in the moment?)

Considering how touch-starved he was when you two started seeing each other, the ‘intimacy’ was nonexistent to him. Slowly, you introduced him to it through holding his fingers and gently massaging his scalp. He practically fell asleep the first time he laid in your lap as you messed with his hair.

When it comes to sex, it came naturally to him. Simply from watching you be gentle with him of all things. Pressing his forehead to yours. Holding your hand. Checking in to make sure you’re okay. Hell, running his hands along your body to massage the aches out of your muscles. He loves doing it. He needs to be as close to you as physically possible.

J=Jack-Off(do they masturbate often?)

Genya can be a bit prideful, but not overly prideful. He understands his body has needs. But it doesn’t mean he’ll masturbate every single time. This is a man trained to be in control and calm at all times.

He won’t get himself off unless it’s truly unbearable. And even then, he tries to restrain himself until he’s with you again. He’s almost always in danger, he’d rather take his chances waiting for you. He cherishes every moment he spends with you.

K=Kink

Overall, Genya isn’t too kinky. He likes to keep things simple. The kinks he does have are truly stimulating.

1) Breeding Kink - This one is pretty obvious considering he loves watching his cum leak out of you. The thought of you being full with his kids isn’t a common thought, but a very tempting one.

2) Biting/Marking Kink - Another obvious one, afterall he leaves hickies all over your thighs, shoulders, and neck. Simply put: if someone sees them, it simply means ‘fuck off, she’s taken’ to any potential single man.

3) Choking Kink - When I mean choking kink, I mean it very mildly. Sometimes, he simply likes to hold onto your throat while he fucks you. However, he makes it a point for you to tell him if he’s squeezing you too much. Which thankfully hasn’t happened. Like I said, this guy has a lot of control over his strength.

4) Slight Manhandling Kink - In simple terms, he likes to hold your hands above your head and even toss you a bit. But only if you’re comfortable with it. This one is very slight as it only happens when he really needs to get his energy, and even frustration, out. 

L=Location(where do they like to have sex?)

Genya prefers to keep your sex lives in the bedroom. It’s the most private you guys can get and he wants to keep it that way. And again, he has a lot of self-control. You, on the other hand, have tested his patience a couple times.

There was only one time he fucked you outside the comfort of your bedroom. You two had a couple of drinks, and you thought it would be a good idea to tease him. He proceeded to fuck you behind a tree. He won’t admit it out loud, but it was a little fun.

M=Motivation(what turns them on, gets them going?)

He doesn’t need too much motivation when it comes to you. Just say the word and he’ll have you on your back in seconds. Then again, Genya always makes it a point to ask you if you were sure. Your consent is all he needs.

N=NO(something they will not do)

Genya will absolutely never inflict any pain on you. Too many people in this world suffer in pain every day. When he wants to have sex with you, he wants both of you to feel good. Period.

Despite it happening once, Genya is still firm in his belief to keep your sex lives in the bedroom. No one else needs to see you two in such a vulnerable position.

O=Oral(giving or receiving?are they good at it?)

When I tell you this man has an oral fixation, it’s almost always like he’s dying of thirst. He is a natural giver. Want you to sit on his face 24/7. Half the time you guys get intimate, it consists mostly of Genya with his face between your legs. There is a reason he has a strong jaw and sense of taste. Sometimes he gets a little ahead of himself and overstimulates you. But you love it. It just requires a small break in between rounds sometimes.

When it comes to receiving oral from you; however, Genya turns into an absolute blushing, blubbering mess. Tries not to cum too quickly, but you don’t mind. In fact, you try to get him to release a few times from your hands and mouth before actualling fucking. It’s when you use your tongue that truly drives him insane. Like he’s fisting your hair and almost throat fucking you(poor baby always worries about hurting you tho).

---

Delicate fingers tug on Genya’s hair as his tongue laps up your folds, his thumb rubbing your clit in circles. This was your third go around and the stimulation was starting to overwhelm your senses. He was always so insatiable when it came to tasting you. His grip on your hips and thighs were the only thing keeping you steady as you sat atop his face. You really wanted to treat him as well, but he refused to accept the praise until you’ve cum on his tongue at least four times. Truly vigorous this man.

“Genya….” You moaned and whimpered as your hips moved back and forth against his mouth.

“Fuck.. Fuck me, you taste amazing.” he mumbled on your folds

If this was heaven, he wanted to stay forever.

P=Pace(are they fast and rough? or slow and sensual?)

It really depends. Most of the time, he wants to take his time with you. Passionate and sensual is the definition of a perfect night for you two.

On days he’s feeling extra spicy, he won’t hesitate to fuck the shit out of you. He will hold your hips so hard there will be handprints on your skin later. I’m talking there will be accessories and decorations shattered on the floor. Clothes? Torn to shreds. Furniture? Will be broken and replaced

Side Note: He feels embarrassed afterward and worries if he hurt you, but you’re a giggling mess. So, you just hold onto him and tell him you like that side of him. He blushes and accepts the affection.

Q=Quickie

Pretty much nonexistent. Like I said, this man does not like having sex with you out in the open. The time behind the tree was a one time thing.

Aside from the obvious, he doesn’t just want to pull you into some closet like a dirty secret. He wants to caress you, hold you, and kiss you as if it’s his last night on earth.

R=Risk

Don’t need to reiterate. He will not risk anything that includes exposing or hurting either of you. You are the most important person in his life[aside from Sanemi] and that is all anyone needs to know. 

S=Stamina(how many rounds can they go?)

Remember how I mentioned he prefers to have you cum on his tongue at least four times before the main event?Yeah, that doesn’t even count. 

It’ll start out slow and sensual like usual, but he’s rubbing your clit half the time. He likes it when you two finish together. This can go for three rounds without breaks. 

He’ll clean you up with his tongue, but not to overstimulate you. He just really likes to eat you out. 

The last two to three rounds, he gets a bit excited and thrusts with more passion than before. He’ll cum before you do but he’ll keep going until you cum one more time. 

Overall, he can last about five to six rounds. Even on days he’s tired. He will not stop until you are satisfied.

T=Toys[modern headcanon]

Personally, I believe he would have a small collection of toys. A couple vibrators[for both you and himself], dildos[mainly for him ;)], and some handcuffs and rope. We all know he secretly likes it up the ass.

U=Unfair(do they tease you? do they like to be teased?)

Genya doesn’t necessarily like to tease you. He sees no point to it as he simply wants to please you, not torment you. 

As for himself, he doesn’t care for it. He won’t mind if you tease him a little bit, but he’s grateful you don’t. You will please each other till kingdom come. 

V=Volume(how loud are they during sex)

Genya isn’t too loud. He mainly grunts and groans in your ear. However, if you touch and scratch him in the right places, he’ll whimper fairly loudly. You can’t help but smirk a bit from it, but you never bring it up since it’ll embarrass him.

W=Wild Card

This is mostly circumstantial as it pertains to the type of demon he’s consumed. His demonic abilities fade away within hours; however, there were a few times the demons he ate affected his tongue.

Long story short, the demon had a forked tongue. Normally, that sort of thing wouldn’t affect him, but for some reason, this time it did. The morning Genya came back from his mission, he woke you up with a bit of a surprise. You were louder than usual as he tongued you. Having a forked tongue inside was a whole different experience. Apparently, Genya forgot all about it and was just going along with it out of habit.

X=X-Ray

Genya is a big guy. Bigger than his older brother[who denies it]. It’s safe to say he’s on the bigger spectrum overall.

He’s five and a half inches soft and almost seven inches when hard. He’s mostly long and a bit veiny. One vein runs along the underside of his dick, which is sensitive when you glide your tongue along it.

Y=Yearning(how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive was nonexistent before he met you. After though? He wishes he could have you 24/7. But he doesn’t show it, he’s a gentleman after all. He must show he has self-control around you.

Z=Zzz(how fast do they fall asleep afterward?)

After making sure both of you have been taken care of, Genya almost always falls asleep right away. The sex plus all the fighting and training that comes with being a Demon Slayer takes a toll on his mind and body. So, the fact he can sleep in the arms of the person he loves is all he can ask for at the end of the day.

---

The soft snores from your lover’s lips were music to your ears as you ran your fingers along his back up to his scalp. A smile spread across your face before closing your eyes and humming.

“I love you, Genya… More than you’ll ever know.”

_____

Hope you guys enjoyed!

[sameschmidtdiffname]

Princess

Mike Schmidt x Female! Reader

Summary: You detest having a roommate. You enjoy cheap rent. One of these things is going to have to change at some point, and with the week you're having? There's only so long before people reach a breaking point.

Tags: Smut. Filthy smut. (This is the first smut I've published too, so enjoy that.) Enemies to lovers, mocking, Mike is so OoC at some parts you could really shove anyone into this role, I'm going to be so extremely for real. (I'm honestly just feral for the actor. Sorry.) Hate fucking, dirty talk, cursing, cucking(??), listening in, masturbating, dumbification, slight dacrophillia(??), Abby's out of the equation for this scenario. Imagine like, early 20s Mike, he's not caretaker yet. Praising, pet names (good girl, princess, whore, pretty girl), no use of Y/N. Dom! Mike, teasing Reader, Brat (??) Reader, phone sex, walking in on masturbation, walking in on sex, possessive! Mike, hickies/bite marks, finger sucking, hair pulling, slut shaming, probably missing some things imma be honest. Just assume this is depraved.

Notes: I'd like to apologize to God and Josh Hutcherson. This is filth and I recognize my eternal soul is indeed damned. Anyways, bone apple teet.

▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

I didn't mind Mike when I met him, you know.

He's quiet. Shy. Keeps to himself. Those traits should make for a good roommate. If he'd kept his mess confined to his room, maybe the music that he blares just a little too loudly wouldn't be so headache inducing.

My fingers rap on the thin door, demanding his attention which is never given to me unless I make a production out of it. We both know that.

"Michael," I say.

Silence.

"Mike."

Nothing.

I open the door and there he is, peacefully asleep on his bed as the bass shakes the water in his glass. I sigh and click off the stereo, then turn to leave. It's incredible how quickly I hear him shift on the bed, scrambling to stand.

"The fuck?" He croaks, wiping sleep from his eyes.

"Your music was blaring. I already heard it from Mrs. Jones upstairs about you waking her kid up, I'm not dealing with that again," I say raising my hands up in the air defensively.

"I don't sleep well," he says.

"Neither does the baby," I say.

Mike rolls his eyes, turning the music back on and turning his back to me.

"Michael-"

"Don't call me that," he interrupts.

It's my turn to roll my eyes. "Schmidt, can you at least turn it down? I'm asking nicely," I say. He stands there for a moment and though I can't see his face, I know he's thinking.

Finally, with a sigh he says "Fine, princess."

"Don't call me that," I say. I hear a small huff of laughter from him and he turns to look at me.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hit a nerve?" He asks with false sympathy.

"It's a simple request," I say. My eyes narrow at him in irritation.

"Which one?"

"Both."

We stand there for a moment, both of us sizing the other up, taking each other in.

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Fine."

With the agreement having been made, I turn to leave, shutting the door behind me.

Year long lease. Joy.

-Tuesday-

"Hurry up!" Yells Mike, pounding on the bathroom door.

"I'm fucken hurrying!" I yell back, my hands working as fast as they can to wash off my body. Late alarm, fever dreams causing me to wake in a pool of stinking sweat, and one bathroom make for a horrendous cocktail of repeated 'fuck you's through the cheap door.

"I'm gonna be late!" Mike yells.

"So am I, I'm sorry!"

There's a moment of long silence and I think maybe Mike has finally found a spot of pity, realizing that maybe we aren't enemies but simply humans who unfortunately have to coexist in this world together. Then the water turns freezing, and I realize I hate him.

"Michael!" I practically scream. Traces of soap still reside on my body, but the cold and my alarm both force me out. Angered and not thinking clearly, I wrap the towel around my dripping waist and swing the door open.

"Are you fucking happy?" I sneer, face inches from his.

His expression is initially satisfied, but as his eyes flicker downwards he and I both realize my mistake. His eyes widen, lingering for a moment on my bare chest as he processed what he was seeing, then returning to meet my glare.

"What?" I ask sharply. "You've never seen a pair before?"

He stammers. "I-I have."

"Don't act like it," I say. "Take a fucken photo, be the only pair you'll probably ever see in your life, dicksmack."

As though he remembers himself, his eyes narrow. "Move, princess."

I slam past him, walking quickly towards my room and slamming the door behind me.

"Don't wake the baby!" Mike mocks down the hall.

Oh, motherfucker. It is on.

-Wednesday-

It's hard to break a lease. It's harder when nothing as cheap exists in the area. This is a problem for both Mike and I. I know it's true for him because apparently even his bills are too troublesome to keep on the floor of his room. But despite his mess, it's him that comes barreling down the hall, bursting into my room with no warning.

"Jesus, Michael!" I start, spinning around in my chair. "Have you ever heard of knocking?"

"Have you ever heard of washing a dish?" He sneers. "It's not hard. My baby sister could do it."

"Oh, is she available? I'd love to see how she'd handle your laundry situation," I retort.

"Why is it impossible for you to actually wash something? You'll put water in it, let it soak. I respect that, but then you never come back to it. Do you enjoy flies? I think you enjoy flies," he says with hate dripping off of his words. I roll my eyes, but he's not entirely wrong either.

"Fine," I mutter. "I'll do the dishes. Sorry."

"See? Look at how hard that was, princess." He begins to turn away.

"Will you quit fucking calling me that?" I snap.

"I'm following our bargin. You're the one who slips first, princess," he says while laughing, raising his hands in defense.

A long moment passes, neither of us willing to back down.

"Do the dishes yourself," I say finally, turning back to the computer.

"Not my mess," he says.

"Too bad. I'm too delicate," I say with a faux breathiness to my voice. The door slams behind him, which has me instantly rising from my chair to race after him.

"Don't slam my door!" I say.

"You did it the other day!" He says, spinning around to face me and almost slipping on one of his shirts littering the hall. I can't help but smile at that.

"Problems?" I ask.

"Yeah, they exist in whatever demon spawned you," he hisses. His eyes catch on something though, narrowing as he leans slightly closer. "The fuck is on your neck?" He asks.

"The fuck you mean 'the fuck is on my neck?'" I ask.

"I mean you've got something on your neck," he says.

"No I don't," I say. "Move." I shove past him to enter the bathroom beside us, flicking on the light and feeling my irritation rise as he reaches to do the same thing simultaneously.

"See?" He says, pointing at a small, dark mark on my neck.

Fuck.

"I don't fucken know what that is," I lie, covering it with my hand.

"You liar, that's a hickey!" He says still pointing at it.

"Is not!"

"Is too. What, are you fucking some high-schooler?" He scoffs.

"Adults leave hickies too, Mike. It can be enjoyable. You'd know this if someone ever wanted to fuck you," I spit back.

"Who on earth would enjoy having sex with you?" He asks. "The only loads you leave attract flies I don't want to have to deal with come summer."

My jaw drops in shock.

"And the only loads you leave smell like menthols and depression!" I retort.

Staring. Always staring with this guy. Jaws clentched, eyes narrowed.

"Just don't bring this guy around here," he finally says. His voice is quieter but the edge is still there.

I blink. "What?"

"You heard me," he says. "I don't need to hear your shrill voice like that."

Am I imagining things or is he blushing? No, I'm definitely imagining things. It's the florescents.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I taunt. The fuck kind of response was that?

His eyes widen slightly. "No," he says a little too quickly.

"What, you get one look at my tits and now you're thinking about that degenerate shit?" I press, stepping closer.

"I don't- this-" He's blundering. I've got him now, I've found his weak spot.

Without a word, I slip out of the bathroom and return to my room, shutting the door and beginning a plan that will guarantee I won't have to worry about being the roommate that breaks lease and looks for a new apartment.

-Thursday-

"Are you close, baby?" The sweet voice on the phone asks me. The battery on my toy is flashing, showing one of us needs to finish soon. And while I like Nick, there was just something lacking in him that kept me on this irritating edge, hiding my release from me.

"I'm close," I confirm, switching hands to try and hit a new angle. The video on the computer is doing nothing to help with this at all, and I'm so bored I'm tempted to just fake it and seal the deal.

The plan was simple. Establish dominance over my roommate via fucking a guy I'd met at some party the week before. Nick was an easy target, too busy thinking with his dick to question why I was suddenly insistent on him coming over. And to guarantee his presence at the apartment, I would have to put in work. Not that I wasn't fully uninterested. He was alright, I was single. Beneficial for everyone involved.

The vibrator finally found that sweet spot, the one that made me cry out softly into the receiver as my wrist pumped with newfound vigor.

"Close," I told Nick. "Isn't as good as you though."

Nick chuckles softly. "You're sweet," he says. Then he's prattling sweet praises, whimpering into the phone breathily along with me as I finally begin to tip over the edge, moaning loudly and clearly. It's my luck that Mike should be at work at this moment.

Should be.

Wasn't.

The door opens as Mike walks in, his mind obviously focused on something else but immediately taken aback at the sight of me sprawled upon the bed, legs open, toy in hand, Nick on phone, porn on computer. Shit.

"Jesus!" Mike shouts. "It's the middle of the day!"

"Get the fuck out!" I shout back, my voice less vicious than I'd like given that I was mid-ruined orgasm. Mike covers his eyes, trying to stumble out of the door without looking, muttering a dozen apologies a second before finally reaching and slamming the door shut behind him.

Nick and I are both silent for a long while, neither of us sure what to say.

"So... I'll see you tomorrow?" I ask finally.

"...yeah." He says. And with the click of my phone, the plan is solidified.

-

I don't see Mike that evening until about three hours later when he finally emerges from his room with pink cheeks and clothed in a large hoodie he seems to wish would swallow him whole.

"Hey," I say to him. I chew on my cheap food slowly, flipping through my novel at the cluttered table.

"Hi," he says quietly, not really making eye contact with me. He crosses to the cabinets, taking out a glass and filling it with water. We listen to the tap for a moment before I finally say "I didn't mean for you to see that."

His eyebrows scrunch in confusion. "I got that."

More silence. The tap shuts off and he leans against the sink, taking a long sip.

"So... hickey guy?" He finally asks. And I can't help the snort that escapes me.

"Nick," I say.

"And he's...?" Mike is testing the waters, that much is obvious.

"Canadian," I say.

Mike nods. Sip. Silence.

"Nick, from Canada," he says slowly.

"Yep," I say, popping the 'p.'

Mike looks at his drink in thought.

"So you're into Canadians," he finally says. I think for a moment.

"No," I say. I mark my book and close it. "Just bored."

"Just bored?" Mike asks.

"Just bored," I confirm.

Sip. Silence. Thinking.

"You... do that regularly?" He asks.

"I mean... I like sex," I say.

His cheeks redden at that, and he takes another sip as though to hide that.

"He's coming over tomorrow," I say casually. Mike's eyes dart to mine, dark and wide.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Another sip. He finishes his glass.

"Should I find plans for tomorrow?" He asks finally.

"No," I say a bit too quickly. Both of our cheeks redden at that. "I mean, we won't... shouldn't...." I don't know what I mean.

Mike stares at me thoughtfully for a moment then looks back to the glass in his hand.

"You're pretty loud, princess," he finally says quietly.

There's a new tension in the air. One that isn't brought on by hate or dirty dishes. One that I don't mind strangely.

"You could join us, if you'd like," I offer. Mike's grip on the glass tightens so suddenly I'm almost surprised it doesn't burst.

"I- I'm pretty sure I'd get in the way," he stammers. Then his eyes darken, a strange look in them. "Besides, I don't like being a whore."

This comment stings. Deeply.

"I'm not a whore," I say defensively.

"Oh?" Mike asks.

"He's the only guy I've fucked in months, so yeah," I say.

"Oh, is that why I hear you moaning late at night all the fucking time?" Mike says. "Seriously, you're fucking loud."

"And you're a fucking virgin," I snap.

"Says who?" He asks.

"Forget it," I say. I gather my things and rise from my chair. "Don't fucking talk to me."

"Fine," he scoffs. "I'll wash this dish too, princess," he calls after me.

I spin around. "You would be so much more fuckable if you were easy to swallow," I snapped, stomping my foot like a child.

Both of us stare at each other in a bit of shock at what I just said.

"Most girls swallow just fine, thank you," he retorts.

"Who's the whore now?" I say. I don't wait for him to respond, slamming the door shut behind me.

Fine. Let him hate me. That's the whole point of this anyways. Then it'll be me and someone else in this terrible fucking apartment. Maybe it'll be Nick. Anyone would be better, I tell myself.

...

...how easy is Mike to swallow?

-Friday-

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't struggling to remember the correct name right now.

Nick is underneath me, pumping his cock in and out like no tomorrow as I grind against him. My jaw is slack, my hands buried in the blankets fabric underneath of us. I'm staring at the thin door though, the thin door that I know leaks every little noise whether there's a towel under the enormous crack or not. And the shadows of footsteps that I see make it all the easier for Nick to continue his shallow rhythm, edging me closer and closer.

"Mi-Nick," I moan loudly. It sounds endearing, thankfully. But my heart races at how close I've come to fucking things up in a few different ways. "Fuck, you're thick," I moan. It's not particularly true, but his size is fine, so what's an ego boost to help him along the way?

Nick is sweet underneath of me, moaning that I'm his, that we're each others. That's great and all, but God. There is this missing edge. And it isn't until I hear pounding on the bedroom door that I finally feel real excitement begin to flow through me.

"We need to talk," Mike's voice says firmly.

Nick looks guilty, his eyes wide and asking for silent guidance. I don't respond, simply continuing to slide up and down Nick's cock and moaning while doing so.

"Hey, princess," Mike says firmer, pounding on the door again. "Think you can stop Oh-ing Canada and come talk to me like a fucking adult?"

I don't stop, grinding harder against Nick's base. My hands find my clit, rubbing it as I respond.

"I told you you were welcome to join us," I moan. Nick looks at me like I've gone utterly insane, and maybe I have. Maybe I'm completely delusional about all of this, but I couldn't care less as I feel my dripping cunt tighten to the point even Nick doesn't care what happens so long as he comes inside of me.

"Mi-Nick," I moan. "Mi-ne, mi-ne." Come on, Schmidt. Catch the fucking hint.

All night I had been plauged with dreams about Michael fucking Schmidt. I'd noticed when we met he was attractive to me. I liked his hands, his stubble. God, his shoulders made me think things that will probably send me straight to Hell. But hate usually kept these thoughts at bay. Last night however, the dreams wouldn't stop coming. Over and over, a new fantasy of him emerged in my head. Him underneath of me as a writing mess, him begging for more, my tits in his mouth as he finished inside me. It was depraved. I wanted it.

The door bursts open just as Nick is finishing inside of me. It's the look in Mike's eyes that causes me to finish, all while keeping eye contact with him as well.

Nick is quick to flip me on my back, covering my body haphazardly with a blanket prattling excuse after excuse. Apparently we're sorry. Apparently we had gotten too wrapped up in the moment because apparently, you know how it is, right man?

But it doesn't matter. Mike isn't looking at Nick, who's pulling on his shirt above me. Mike's looking at me, watching my fingers that trail gently along my areolas, flicking lightly at my hardened nipples and clearly longing for more.

"Mike wouldn't know the first thing about pleasing a woman," I say with little thought.

"Oh?" Both of them ask me.

"I think you should leave, Nick. Mike and I are going to have a little talk, and I don't want you to see how ugly this may get," I say without breaking eye contact with Mike.

The sudden shift in the air is not subtle, so maybe that's why Nick doesn't really hesitate to listen to me.

"I'll call you later," he says as he stumbles past Mike.

"Don't bother," Mike calls after him. Mike slams the bedroom door shut, locking it before turning to me and raising an eyebrow.

"Is there something you'd like to say to me?" Mike asks, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms as his stands tall.

My hand dips to between my thighs where Nick and I's cum pools out, coating me in the thick stuff.

"Sorry," I say in a spoiled tone, smiling.

Mike's eyes scan my entire body. From the hickies coating my neck, to my breasts and even my thighs, I can see a new wave of anger washes over him. At least, it looks like anger. There's something else mixed with it too, something I desperately want to play with.

"You're not sorry for shit," he says. He's correct.

"I told you last night, I like fucking people," I say as my fingers circle my clit.

Mike's jaw tightens. "You like fucking people," he repeats.

I can see him grind his teeth. He's silent for another moment. "And do you like... him?"

I giggle. "You tell me," I say with a soft and low voice.

His eyebrows twitch. "You're still... going?" He asks with an unsure edge to his voice.

"Yes, Michael. This is what a woman looks like when she's turned on," I say in a mocking tone, batting my lashes as my fingers dip into my entrance. "Would you like to try?"

He steps closer, bending down ever so slightly to stand over me.

"Don't call me that," he says in a low growl.

"Make me," I taunt.

He blinks.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

A startled yelp escapes me as Mike grabs my hips, dragging me roughly to the edge of the bed. He spreads my legs, stepping between them and slips his rough thumb inside of me with no hesitation.

"Fuck. You do like him," he groans, his other hand fiddling with his belt. I can see how hard he is underneath his jeans, his fingers clumsy but working quickly at the items covering him.

"He's oka-ay," I say quickly, my voice trailing off into a soft moan. His thumb explores the inside of my cunt, probing the wet muscle and massaging inside of me spots a man had never taken time to look for before. "Your finger's thick," I moan.

Mike chuckles, freeing himself and pumping into his hand slowly as he presses his thumb deeper inside of me.

"You told Nick he was thick too," he says. "That just your line with guys?"

It is, but this time I actually mean it. So I shake my head. "No," I say quietly.

"I don't believe you," Mike says. He slips his thumb out of me, making me clench around nothing. I open my mouth to protest only for Mike to quickly shove his thumb into my mouth, touching the back of my throat while he sinks his cock into me.

"Go on, pretty girl," he moans. "Take it like the proud whore you are."

I gag around his thumb, both from the sudden intrusion and from the taste. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't like this, if I said that his actions didn't make me even more wet and that I didn't suck his thumb greedily, wrapping my tongue around it and sucking it clean until I can only taste his rough flesh. I swear it makes his dick twitch.

His cock slides in and out of me with ease, taking his time to feel how I wrap around him.

"Fuck," he drawls. "It's been awhile."

I moan around his thumb, running my tongue along the underside and trying to rock my hips against him to tell him to speed up. Instead, he presses a hand down on my lower stomach, pinning me down as he sinks in fully. At first glance his size is average, but inside of me it's overstimulating how he fills me just a little too much.

His thumb presses further into my throat, making me gag as he tilts his head back in pleasure.

"You are just demanding. Do you know that?" He asks. I try to respond, but he simply presses his thumb against a spot that makes me gag once more.

"Nothing's good enough for you. Not even Nick. You didn't even cum until I came in here," he laughed cruelly, looking down at where we connect. His other thumb trails down to rub my clit slowly, making me writhe underneath him and clench around his still cock.

"Never shutting up. Till now. I like it when you're quiet, princess. Makes you easier to swallow." He presses deeper inside of me, making me whine in overstimulation.

"You're mine now," he says, slowly pulling out. "You can call Nick all you want. Call him, fuck him. But we both know he's not gonna make you cum like I will." Just his tip remains in me, barely staying in before he slams back into me so hard I scream.

"So what's the point?" Mike asks, slowly slipping out once more. "Do you like pitting men against each other like that?" He slams back into me. My eyes water, but I don't protest.

This time when he pulls back, he stays there. I wait for him, trying to he patient. But then he removes his thumb and wraps his hand around his length instead.

"What?" I ask, my voice raw.

"Say it," Mike says as he jerks himself off slowly.

"Say what?" I ask.

"I'm not gonna fuck you like you want unless you say you're mine," he says casually. His tip is bright red and leaking precum, his length coated in Nick and I's milky cum.

"Fuck you," I say. Mike just laughs.

"You're the one laying here crying over some dick," he taunts. "I just want to make sure we're on the same page here, princess."

I try to hold strong, I really do. It'd be more fun if I did. But fuck. The way he stands over me, his shoulders broad. I could never deny I liked the sight of his hands either, and seeing them tug as his pulsing cock while he stared down at me with that stupid fucking smile?

It's not fair.

"I'm yours," I say quietly.

"Hmm?" Mike asks, pumping his dick quicker now. I can see how hard his veins are, and the sounds of him fucking his own hand make me want him more.

"Yours," I repeat slightly louder.

"Use proper English," he says. His face has this stupid blissful look on it, his mouth slightly open as he pants, fucking himself and watching me as he does.

"I am yours," I hiss through gritted teeth. It doesn't even take a full second before he's buried in me once more, his hands pinning my knees to my shoulders and fucking me with enough speed I'm genuinely scared he'll hurt me. And I love it.

"I'm going to make you mine," he grins, his voice suddenly turning feral.

"I'm going to make you mine so much that you won't even be able to remember what Nick's name is, let alone what he looks like. Or what he feels like."

"Uh huh," I whine. My voice is so unusually high and ragged, my mouth slack and eyes rolling back in pleasure. I rock against his hips, trying to find my second edge. I'm babbling, whether I'm asking for mercy or more is anyone's guess.

He laughs at me, and it's a harsh and cruel laugh - not at all like the usual sarcasm and mockery he displays. Instead, his laugh comes from a place that is raw and angry and vicious, the kind of laugh a wolf makes when he's about to go for the kill.

"What's the matter?" he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mocking. "Not quite the big, bad man that he's made you think he was, is he? How disappointing," he continues, his hips thrusting into me repeatedly.

I cry loudly with each new thrust. His movements are cruel, borderline abusive. Christ, I love it.

"Bigger," I whine. "Bigger."

He teeth nip at my throat, sinking in hard enough I'll be wearing sweaters and scarves for weeks. Makeup won't touch the color.

"Bigger?" He asks in a mocking voice. "What's bigger?"

"You're bigger," I moan. My voice is broken, and there's no way the neighbors don't hear the degeneracy occurring around them. Sorry, Mrs. Jones.

"What are you going for?" he snaps, his eyes narrowing and his voice growing more and more vicious. "Big bad Mike?" he giggles, his grip tightening on my ankles as he continues plunging into me.

A loud scream escapes me as Mike finds my g spot. He doesn't relent, focusing on the spot and abusing it while I sob and try to wiggle away, completely overstimulated from pleasure and unable to handle it.

His hands pin me against him, trapping me where I am and forcing me to take him however he wants me to.

"You want more?" he asks, taking one hand away from my ankles, grabbing and pulling my hair harshly, forcing me to stare into his eyes. His pupils are so blown out I can't even see his pretty hazel irises. They're dark and predatory, his breath hot and heavy with rage.

"Is that what you want?" he asks, pulling back and plunging into my aching cunt again.

"Yes!" It's a violent scream that escapes me, feeling myself begin to tip over the edge. His eyes sparkle, his lips in a smile that shows he knows he's won.

"And what would Nick say if he could see you like this? All mine, all mine..." he taunts.

"Huh?" I'm completely stupid, my body coming undone so suddenly around his dick with cries, screams, whimpers and everything inbetween. Nick was foreplay and I've no mental energy to remember any detail that isn't Mike's.

"Don't even know his name?" Mike laughs. "You can't even remember his name, can you?" he grins, his eyes narrow again as he tugs my hair and shoves himself in further.

"Uh uh," I pant in a high voice. My body shakes terribly, his pounding length already edging me once more as he continues abusing my spot. How on earth am I supposed to walk after this?

"Then let me help you remember his name," he says. "Say his name."

"Mike," I moan pathetically. I'm right back on that edge, crying and feeling as though I'll burst from overstimulation.

"Louder," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mocking. "Say it louder. Say his name loud enough for him to hear you."

"Mike!" I scream it religiously as I come undone a second time, gripping him to the point I can feel how close he is too. I hear him laugh above me, his other hand now wrapping around my throat and choking me slightly.

"That's my name," he says with mocking gentleness. "Say his name or I won't finish."

"I don't remember," I sob. Jesus Christ, do I have problems? "Just want you!"

His face glows, his lips split into a wide grin of satisfaction.

"So you want me, do you, princess?"

I nod pathetically. He's throbbing, slamming into me hard enough it may draw a third climax in a row.

His laugh is cruel above me, his lips landing on top of mine in a wet, possessive kiss. His tongue fills my mouth, forcing me to take him as the sounds of him fucking me like a depraved animal makes me whine in desperation.

He pulls away, a long string of spit between us connecting our lips.

"Then I'll give you what you want, princess," he says. "But there's a price."

"Uh huh," I agree. My eyes roll back as my body twitches, barely able to focus as he thrusts into me.

"Look at me," he says patiently, tugging my hair once more. When I manage to remember how, he let's out a long 'aw,' smiling down at me with false sweetness as I stare dumbly into his eyes. I suppose I'm staring into his eyes. God, I'm stupid.

His thumb grazes my jaw, tutting as he examines my face closely.

"Your eyes are pretty...*" he says, his voice sweet and tender, almost like I've made him soft and vulnerable, but his cock pounding into me causes the beginning of a headache that won't let me forget how much we hate each other. "Your eyes are pretty, your mouth is pretty..."

I lick my lips and nod lightly.

"You are just such a pretty girl, aren't you?" He asks. I nod, my body twitching uselessly as my third climax washes over me.

"Good girl," he praises. "All fucked out over me. That's good."

Suddenly and without warning, he pulls out quickly and shoves my face down close to his cock, coming all over my face. It's thick and everywhere. In my hair, my mouth. I can't even open my eyes.

"Stay like that," Mike commands as he lays me on my back. His softening cock reenters me and pumps lazily, his purpose to make sure he's fully emptied.

"Any new thoughts?" He asks me in a strange tone, light and amused. I simply moan, relishing the moment. He chuckles and spreads my legs so he can better see what is happening between us. It isn't until I hear the chime of his camera confirming a recording that I realize what he's done.

"Mike?" I ask, barely able to think straight.

A low laugh escapes him, cruel but warm.

"I want to show your new boyfriend the real you," he says. "Make sure we're all on the same page here, right?

...Fuck me, I have problems.

¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

Thanks for reading, pookies. See y'all in hell.

Masterlist

[bitchin-beskar]

not sure if you're still down for writing for them but can i ask for more sub!soap? that pussy drunk one has me slightly feral, just a lil foam out the mouth, ya know?

I am always down for writing for any of the cod bois. just because my brain decided to be mean and not allow me any motivation to write for like three years doesn't mean it didn't let all the thots marinate in there like delicious jar of pickles ready to be opened at a moments notice.

ANYWAYS

here's more sub!John 'Soap' MacTavish (with a heaping dose of praise kink and pussy worship on the side)

When your phone lights up, it’s late, far later than any of your friends usually text you. That’s the only reason you even check it, so unused to the sound of a text at this time of night.

But as soon as you see the name on the screen, you’re leaping to your feet. It’s from Soap, a little smiley face and soap emoji next to his name that you’d originally put down as a joke, but that quickly changed when you saw him blush bright red the first time he saw the contact you’d made for him.

The text is short, simple. He just landed, but in the mess of going on leave, forgot his keys back on base, and if it wasn’t too much trouble, could he stay at yours?

Almost as soon as you finish reading, another text pops up, and your heart sinks. It’s another message, Soap backpedaling as he apologizes for how late it is, that he didn’t realize with the time difference, and that he’s just getting a hotel, he’s sorry to have bothered you, and he hopes you have a good night.

You’re immediately calling him, already putting on your shoes and grabbing your keys.

“Bonnie, I’m so so-”

“John MacTavish, don’t you dare apologize.” You cut him off, striding out the front door of your flat and locking the door behind you, “Are you at your flat now?”

There’s a long silence on the other end, and you actually check the phone to make sure you didn’t disconnect on accident.

“You don’t have to-”

Once more, you cut him off. “I want to. Are you at your flat?”

A sigh.

“Yeah, ‘m at my flat.”

You nod decisively, even though he can’t see you. “Okay. I’m on my way. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He’s quiet, too quiet, and you feel a knot start to form in your stomach. “M’kay, bonnie.” He sighs softly, the tone of his voice almost… defeated. “Thank you.”

“Don’t gotta thank me for this, Johnny,” you murmur as you start up your car, pulling out of the parking garage and starting the familiar drive to his flat. “I’m on my way.”

~~~

When he gets into your car, Soap is subdued. He’s still in the rough canvas pants and scratchy shirts that are typical of base attire, and there’s scruff on his jaw, showing that it’d been some time since he’d shaved. But the most striking thing is how tired he looks. Soap has always been so energetic, even after the most grueling of missions. He’s usually a seemingly endless well of positivity, but now it appears that the well has run dry.

He greets you with a quiet voice. “Thanks, bonnie.” You can’t help the way you keep sneaking glances at him on the drive back to your flat, but he’s staring out the window at the passing streetlights, lost in thought. His hands are still on his thighs, and that makes you more concerned than anything else. Soap’s hands are never still.

The drive back seems like it takes twice as long, but eventually, you’re back inside, locking your front door as Johnny stands in your small entryway, looking somewhat lost, duffle dangling from his fingertips.

You carefully step around him, grabbing the straps of his duffle and tugging it from his weak grasp. Again, it speaks volumes about his mental state that he doesn’t protest. You press your fingers gently against his chest, urging him to look at you.

“Go shower, yeah? I’ll leave some fresh clothes out. You’ll feel better once you’re clean.”

A weak smile crosses his lips, and before you can pull your hand away, he’s leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Wha’ would I do without ye, love?”

You smile softly back up at him. “Luckily, you’ll never have to find out. Now, go shower, Sergeant.”

“Yes ma’am,” he says softly, turning and making his way towards your bathroom. You watch him walk away before heading towards your bedroom, setting his duffle inside the closet to be unpacked later. You grab his favorite t-shirt and sweatpants from your drawers, and set them on the toilet inside the bathroom once you hear the shower running.

It doesn’t take him long, it never does. When he emerges from the bathroom, cheeks flushed pink from the heat, clean shaven, and dressed in his comfy clothes, he looks the most like himself since you picked him up at his flat.

As soon as he sees you, he’s striding across the carpet, gathering you in his arms and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. You respond eagerly, albeit slowly, not wanting him to feel like he has to rush this. You’ve missed him in the months he’s been away, and you’re not afraid to admit it.

You slide your hands through his soft, damp hair, the scent of your shampoo filling the air and sending a thrill down your spine at the thought of Soap smelling like you. You tug gently at his hair, and a low groan escapes his throat, his arms tightening around your waist.

“Love, please,” he whispers against your lips, hands slowly growing more frantic as he pushes up your shirt to feel your bare skin beneath his palms, like he needs more proof that you’re here and in his arms. “I can’t-”

“Shh,” you whisper back, going up on tip toes and pressing your body more fully against his, using your grip on his hair to tilt his head just so, kissing him deeper. “Take me to bed, John.”

A soft whine is pressed against your lips before he’s gripping your thighs and picking you up, holding your body tight against his as he quickly moves towards your bedroom. He moves with purpose, a soldier’s stride, quickly and efficiently navigating your flat without taking his lips off of yours.

It makes something warm curl in your belly, that he knows your home so well, that he’s so comfortable here.

He gently lays you out on the bed, eagerly crawling on top of you, resting in the cradle of your thighs as he trails kisses down your neck. You keep running your fingers through his hair, tugging gently and making him let out all manner of delicious noises.

“That’s it, baby,” you coo at him, slowly rolling your hips against his as you feel him harden through the sweatpants. “Go on, take what you need.”

He whimpers again, his own hips rutting desperately against yours as he tries to relieve the tension that must’ve been building for weeks. It’s abundantly clear that he’s reacting on instinct alone, and you use your grip on his hair to drag him up to you, kissing him deeply. He’s sloppy, messy, dazed, and you feel a swell of affection at how quickly you’re able to get him to start relaxing.

“Good boy, Johnny,” you sigh into his mouth, hooking a leg over the back of his thigh, encouraging his frantic grinding. “Come for me, yeah? I know you need it, so bad. Do as I say, baby. Let go.”

The high pitched whine that escapes his throat sounds like it hurts, but he obeys orders and comes in his pants, twitching violently as he clutches at the sheets on either side of your body, trying to keep his head above the tidal wave of sensation wracking his body. You don’t even care that you’re barely close, all you care about is getting Soap off as soon as you can. He needs this, you can tell, and you wanna give him everything.

Immediately, you’re whispering praise, stroking fingers through his hair and down his back as you try to calm his shaky breathing as he comes down from the abrupt high. He buries his face in your neck, and you can feel as tears drip from his eyes onto your skin, tension bleeding out of his muscles as he lets the cradle of your body support him as he can finally fully relax.

For a long moment, the two of you lay there, Soap crying silently against your skin as you run your fingers over every inch of him you can reach, as though your touch can wipe away all the pain and suffering he’s been dealt over the months he’s been away from you.

Eventually, his tears dry up, a few shaky inhales and exhales before he pushes himself up and away from your body, propping himself up with his hands. His eyes are bloodshot, but his face is less tense, the lines of stress that had been present on his brow cleared away.

“Bonnie, I-”

You press a gentle finger to his lips. “Don’t you dare. There is absolutely nothing to apologize for. You did exactly as I said.”

Even with the reassuring words, he still looks troubled. “You didn’t come,” he murmurs against your finger, silent apology clear in his tone.

You sigh, only slightly exasperated. “John, you know I don’t care.”

But he’s not to be dissuaded, not this time.

“But I do,” he says, pressing reverent kisses down your chest as he slowly makes his way down your body. “Wan’ ye ta come, love.”

“Johnny-”

But he won’t be dissuaded, and you honestly just don’t have the heart to turn him away, not as he finally seems to be coming back to himself.

It’s simple, lifting your hips so he can slide your shorts down your legs, a routine the two of you have done hundreds of times before. He still gets that same dazed look he gets every time, eyes flicking up to yours for permission.

You cradle his face with your hand, thumb brushing over a faded bruise on his cheekbone.

“Go on, baby,” you murmur, a small, sad smile playing at your lips. “Whatever you need, love.”

A broken groan escapes him, and he wastes no more time. You’re spread out so beautifully, just for him, and fuck, he needs this so bad he can’t even breathe.

His tongue slides through your folds, a deep rumble escaping him as he finally gets to taste you again. It’s been far too long since the last time, he fucking missed this.

You let your head tip back, whimpering quietly at the pleasure that surges through you as Soap seals his lips around your clit and sucks. He knows exactly how to drive you straight towards the edge of insanity, and it’s knowledge he shamelessly abuses.

He feasts on your cunt like he’s on the cusp of starvation. He hooks his strong arms under your thighs and then up over your hips, hands flat on your belly as he buries his face between your thighs. You couldn’t squirm away if you tried, as though you’d want to.

His mouth is warm and wet as he fucks you with his tongue, the sound of his feasting absolutely lewd in the quietness of your bedroom, but the only thing it does is turn you on even more. He’s entirely focused on you, and the intensity of his attention is almost stifling.

“Fuck, baby, I missed you,” you whine, fingers curling into his hair, tugging gently as you grind your hips against his face. “Missed your mouth too- oh!, yes, Johnny, just like that, please!”

As soon as you start talking, he doubles down, focusing his attention on your clit, sucking rhythmically on that senstive bundle of nerves until you’re damn near suffocating him with how tight you’re pressing his face into your needy cunt.

It’s clear he’s in heaven, though. Every time you try to loosen your grip, or pull him back, he whines, this pathetic little noise that vibrates through the very core of you, making you gasp and squirm.

“J-Johnny, fuck baby, you’re gonna make me come. Fuckin’ missed you, baby, missed how good you are to me, fu-uck!”

His pleased little hum makes a different kind of warmth spread through you, as you realize he’s finally coming out of that dark headspace he’s been in since god only knows how long. He takes your words to heart, stops teasing you and instead focuses on trying to get you to tip over that edge. He releases one of your hips, only to gently press a thick finger inside you, clearly delighting in the way you gasp and clench around the intrusion.

It doesn’t take long for him to be able to add a second finger, your slick absolutely drenching his hand, making the slide of his fingers far easier than it has any right to be considering how long it’s been. He’s quick to find that spot inside you, crooking his fingers in that come hither motion and stroking in time with your sobs.

“S-So close, baby, please!”

He lets out a moan, the vibration adding just the right amount of stimulation to make you come with a sharp cry, your legs tensing and your fingers twisting in his hair. Your back arches off the bed, but Johnny’s arm across your waist keeps you anchored to the mattress as you ride out your release against his face.

There’s a soft buzzing in your ears, and it slowly disappates as you come down from your high, and you can hear yourself babbling frantic words of praise and adoration at John.

“Good boy, fuck, good boy Johnny, thank you baby, oh shit you make me feel so good.”

He lets out a muffled sob, and begins to tentatively suck and lick at you again, careful not to cause you pain, but physically incapable of stopping yet.

Even as sparks fly up your spine, even as your body aches in protest, desperate for a break after such an explosive release, you stroke your fingers through his hair, and spread your legs even wider around his broad shoulders.

“That’s it, baby boy,” you whimper, eyes slipping closed. “Just take what you need. ‘m gonna give you everything.”

[jenchan-writingmultis]

Sylus SFW/NSFW Headcanons

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A/n: I wanna emphasize further headcanons for Sylus cause he got me in a chokehold, NSFW isn’t a lot cause I couldn’t think of much. I hope you like this one! Also, when I was writing this, Rafayel was on my screen saying “Babe don’t move, I wanna see if I can see myself in the reflection of your eyes” I am so sorry baby boy. Also, I apologize for the separated posts, I, once again, reached the Tumblr limit. <( •̀ᴖ•́)>

Pairing: Sylus x AFAB Reader

Not beta read!

Warning: Toxic! Relationship, Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapping, Forced Drug Usage, Exhibitionism, BDSM, Sadistic! Sylus, Cussing, Blood, SYLUS! (He gets his own warning) If there are warnings that I didn’t notice, please let me know, thank you!

Masterlist Sylus SFW/NSFW Headcanons (Part One)

Sylus NSFW Headcanons

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SFW:

✄ He wouldn’t forget about the men you keep in your life; they’re so obsessed with you that they all got impacted by your disappearance, especially Rafayel, who was the one that got you into the situation, he knows that the guy was the reason why you almost died, twice? Was it thrice? Anyways that’s too much for someone who says that they loved you for 800 years, (He’s a full-time stalker, do you think his raven wouldn’t hear your conversation when that man got hospitalized?)

✄ For his amusement... he usually tends to give them little trinkets of your possessions where they live or lets you send a message to them once in a while. Just to mess with them, after all, they're the ones who got to have plenty of time with you, and yet here you are, in his home. He considers himself the winner right now.

✄ Out of all the male leads, the one he considers to be a big threat was Lumiere, the number of times he almost got caught with you, that man is crazy. (as if he isn’t) so whenever he lets you out, he makes sure you’re not identifiable, it’s simple really, he uses a device that changes your appearance to look vastly different from your looks.

✄ In terms of Physical affection, he would do it when you still despise him, he’d force you to kiss him, planting his lips on yours while you squirm from your chains, try to bite his lips, he’ll slap your thighs with a baton, specifically your inner thighs mind you, since it hurts so much more there. Yeah, keep trying to hurt him, he’ll make sure to give it back tenfold.

✄ Does he hug you? He does, though the type of hugs he gives aren’t comfortable, it’s where you can’t move, can’t leave or squirm your way out of his hold, he’s strong enough to hold you down.

✄ Cry for him! He likes seeing your tears, angry tears, or pained tears, he doesn’t care, he just wants to see you sob. While he loves that you’re bratty, he also prefers obedient mutts as stated in the first headcanons. If he needs to punish you for that he’s very much willing.

✄ He does drug you often. He likes watching you turn into a mush, a pliant pet for him, he doesn’t take advantage of you in this state though, he just gets tired of your constant squirming when he wants your cuddle after a long day of work, he’d come back to his home, his bodyguards and servants greeting him enthusiastically (they’re forced to) while you on the other hand, just spat insult after insult to him. He would appreciate the feisty personality you have if he has the energy for it.

✄ He’d grab your cheeks in a bruising grip before he grabs a pill box, finding the right drug to put you in a state where you reciprocate his love for you, he forces your jaw open before pouring 3 pills into your mouth.

✄ “Drink” he’d ordered, you gasped, trying to push the pills out of your throat, “spit it out, you’ll regret it” his voice harsh, while he forces cold water down your throat, making sure that you drank it, the moment he lets your cheeks go, you’d be coughing and gasping for air, he drenched your shirt too cause of what he did, but he doesn’t care, you’re acting like a feral dog, be ready to be treated like one.

✄ The moment the drugs start to circulate in your system, making you tired and obedient, he’ll carry you to the bed, where you were supposed to be, but didn’t like being on since that bed reminded you that you were trapped.

✄ In times like this, he turns vulnerable, asking you to tell him how much you love him, he likes hearing it, you never told him those words, and he could only hear it when you’re drugged out.

✄ You cuddle him, breathing ragged while he traces his fingers on your back, causing you to shiver, it was cold and hot at the same time, and the only comfort you feel is when you’re pressed against his body, he is the only solace you feel when you’re in this state, and you hated it.

✄ When he tells you he loves you, you respond so eagerly, like a proper mutt.

✄ He'd plant kisses on your face, his hand gently holding your back to adjust your position on his lap. Your skin, warm from the effects of the drugs, pressed against his. Seizing the moment, he continued kissing you, his lips trailing down to your neck, where he left bites, he’d savor your whimpers.

✄ Oh, but if you mention any of the male lead’s name except for him while you’re in a dreamlike state,  he’d be fuming with jealousy, but it’s not obvious, his subtle hints would be on his body language, the way his kisses became rougher, he bites your bottom lip, breaking skin and making you bleed, if you wince in pain, he’d have a sneer on his face.  His grip on your back would go to your waist, chubby or not, he’d have you under his mercy, his hands tugging your cuffs and placing your wrists on top of your head.

“Even if your brain’s a mush you never fail to hit a nerve pretty”

✄ After you fall asleep under his “care”, he’ll take care of you, changing your outfit before he tucks you to bed, you’ll often wake up alone, but with a letter that says that he’ll be expecting proper etiquette from you next time.

✄ Does he say “I love you” to you? If you’re still mad at him, he would out of spite, He would infuse it with such sweetness that it’s guaranteed to make you angrier. Honestly, he loves seeing you try to piss him off. Keep going, love; you're at least one step closer.

✄ On the other hand, once you develop Stockholm syndrome, he won’t say it much, you didn’t become boring, he just likes seeing you desperate to please him, to get his love so he stops his affections just for you to beg for it.

✄ Is it hard to withhold loving you? Nope, it’s easy for him, he lived without your constant affection, even during the months he kept you in his home, you didn’t give him the privilege of your love, so he doesn’t mind not touching you at all, not giving you the attention you want, or the verbal affirmation if he still loved you.

✄ Once you start crying and begging, that’s where he’d hush you, petting your head before he kisses your forehead.

“I’m sorry pretty, I’m here now, don’t cry” He’d coo before you hug him as if your life depended on it.

[charliemwrites]

Simon’s so calm with Feral it's actually scary. Like I'm reading each little interaction and I get scared waiting for him to finally snap but HE NEVER DOES.

what if he comes home stressed from a mission, and he is just absolutely not in the mood for Feral’s gremlin-ness and he says/does something he might regret the next morning?

Hi, I glad that that tension is there and that their dynamic doesn’t get too repetitive. This probably isn’t as dramatic as your were hoping for….? But I hope you enjoy it regardless!!

Simon has been gone for a week. Not the longest by far - you didn’t even need a babysitter this time - but long enough that you’ve missed him. He gets home late, very late. You’ve been staying up waiting, excited to greet him.

When he shuffles in the door, you don’t even wait for him to set his bag down. You nearly knock him into the front door climbing up him, chattering about what you’ve been up to while he’s away, and he’s home late how could he, and there’s so many things that need doing!

He’s favoring one leg but supports your weight, gently tries to shush you while you nip and babble at him. He’s missed you, really he has. But the mission was long and frustrating, the debrief even more so, and he’s already beyond aggravated that he’s late coming home to you. It doesn’t help that you’re fussing at him for keeping you awake when he’s told you repeatedly to go to bed before 23:00.

“Enough,” he snaps finally. “Give me a minute to breathe, would you? I’m barely in the door.”

You stop, a scowl already twisting your face.

“If you’re just going to be a brat, go to bed. I’ll deal with it in the morning.”

And ooooh that is not the thing to say. You drop off him instantly, face going cold.

“Fine. Welcome home, Simon.”

And your turn and stomp away to bed. He sighs, though the regret doesn’t set in immediately. He’s still annoyed about everything and feels justified in losing his patience just a little with you, just this once.

He showers off, cools his temper, and realizes that he shouldn’t have let his annoyance slip with you. It’s not your fault that he’s tired and other people are stupid. You greeted him the way you always do; couldn’t have known what state he’s in.

He approaches your room with every intention of apologizing but hesitates when he sees the light off. Maybe you’re asleep? It is pretty late for you.

And then he hears you sniffle. Fuck.

He feels instantly like shit, like his father.

“Pretty?” He calls gently. “Still awake?”

The little mountain of blanket shifts. “Shouldn’t you be… resting or whatever?” you reply, voice thick.

“Couldn’t go to bed without saying goodnight.”

“Good night.” You’re putting on a brave voice but he can hear the tremor in it. He hesitates a moment.

“Would you be willing to come down?” he ventures.

“What for?” You huff. “Aren’t I too much right now?”

His chest hurts. “You’re never too much for me, little one. I shouldn’t have made it seem like you were. I don’t think I can sleep without you, actually. I’m not enough in my own.”

You peek out from beneath the covers, eyes puffy and red-rimmed. “Promise?”

“Yeah, love, I promise. Would you sleep with me tonight.”

You climb down and burrow against his chest, let him wipe away the last of the tears and even accepts the sharp bite he gets to his hand.

“Am I a brat?” you ask, voice small.

He chuckles and smooths a hand through your hair. “Maybe, but you’re perfect that way.”

[thefangirlbrainrotheadquarters]

Attitude Adjustment

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Satoru Gojo x fem!reader smut

TW: pet names, overstimulation, Gojo is absolutely pussy drunk and reader is too fucked out to care, all characters are of age of consent, brat taming, reader is in a mating press, slight degradation, unprotected sex, creampie,established relationship. If I left anything out please let me know.

Context: You and Satoru were spending the day on a date and you were being a brat the entire time. So obviously once the two of you get home you are going to have to learn your lesson.

This is absolutely Gojo brainrot so a whole lot of thought did not go into it.

Thinking about possibly doing a series like this were all the husbandos give their lover an attitude adjustment because who doesn’t love those? :)

“if you’re gonna act like a brat then I am just going to have to treat you like one, Bunny.”

Overstimulation is one of his favorite moves. Foreplay is his specialty. He starts with his fingers deep inside you pressing right on that spot that makes you forget your name. You’ve lost count of how many times you gushed all over his fingers but your legs are about to give out and you keep trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “Where is all that nerve now?” He would taunt.

When he finally takes his fingers away you are laying in a puddle of your own juices. Not that he cares. “There is no way you thought that this was over, Angel. I haven’t even punished you yet.” He said after licking his fingers savoring the taste on each digit. He completely ignores your pathetic little whimpers trying to say that you were sorry as if that was going to spare you from the long night ahead of you.

When you have really pissed him off you find yourself in a mating press completely at Satoru’s mercy. He is pounding into you like he hates you, his blue eyes locked with yours. “Don’t you dare look away, Princess I wanna see those eyes while I fuck you stupid.” He had completely bottomed out, big fat balls smacking into your ass, still ignoring your pleas for him to slow down. He would be whispering filth in your ear as he continued to fuck you into the mattress.

“That’s it, Princess take this dick like a good girl.”

“Aw is my baby cryin’? Come on baby I know you can cum for me again. Make another mess for me.” When your next orgasm absolutely wrecks your body you have no idea how many times you have fallen apart under him it was almost as if he got even harder. Your tears turn Satoru absolutely feral. He knows he isn’t going to last much longer but how will you learn not to be such a brat if he doesn’t fuck you so good you forget your own name?

“That’s my girl.” He would say between grunts. His eyes would flutter shut, his thrusts were still so deliciously intense but they do become shorter, so you know he is reaching his limit, not that he cares. Even though you are the one being punished Satoru is very much pussy drunk and there really isn’t any use in trying to reason with him about pulling out. Not that you would because you are too fucked out to say a coherent thought at this moment all you can do is cum. Don’t bother trying to apologize either. Being cute is not going to get you out of this one.

You have no idea how long it’s been and you are laying in a puddle of your own juices at this point and your beloved Satoru is at his limit. Between thrusts he would say something like “Fuck this pussy is so tight, you’re gonna milk me for everything I’ve got aren’t you, Angel?”

“I should empty my balls in you shouldn’t I? Turn you into a stupid little cum dump for me huh, Pretty?” All you can give is a lewd “Yes, Daddy please give me all your cum please!” As you wrap your plush legs around him just a little tighter. That sends him over the edge, when Satoru is pussy drunk he breaths the prettiest moans when he finally lets himself cum. He’s a complete mess, moaning on and on about how you are such a good girl for him and how proud he is of you for being a good girl and taking your punishment.

In bed he is a menace but Satoru is a firm believer in aftercare and after he carries you to a warm bath and changes the sheets he treats you to your favorite take out place and you fall asleep safely in his arms.

[rebornologist]

I know he is the king of softness but how about some 🚨 nasty where abe is dom, like we were teasing him so bad holding his hand all over a meeting and having nasty thoughts of him taking control that after the meeting he show us how rough and dom he can be, that he leaves us not being able to walk. I AM BLUSHING HARD RIGHT NOW THINKING OF IT

dom abe ♡ sends u to the ER?!⁎⁺˳✧༚

I love this prompt because I actually recently got into reading the BPRD comics, and our dearest agent sapien is not as much of an awkward nerdy softie mess in that depiction :’) That man is so FOINE y’all I’m obsessed..

warnings: biting, fingering, ambiguous reader parts lol, pinning reader down, it's pretty feral with a subtle prey/predator undertone, could be read as cnc, lil suggestion of facefucking, and ofc.. I love talking about his cum ♡

༚✧⁺˳₊˚‿︵‿︵‿୨୧ · ˳ · ♡ · ˳ · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿˚₊˳⁺✧༚

So your hand brushes his during the debrief, and he innocently lifts it up to cover yours, lightly going back and forth over your knuckles and the back of your hand. His cold fingers juxtapose your warm skin, but you smile at the subtle gesture of affection. Then, your mind wanders.. to other times when his body temperature juxtaposed yours.

You notice his breathing pause for a moment, out of the corner of your eye, and you actively realize where your mind has wandered to. When he nervously exhales and draws his hand away, you double down and move your hand to his under the table, discreetly. You also lean over to rest your head on his shoulder, casually. It’s not a startling display of affection, especially because it was only HB, Liz, and Johann present at this particular meeting, but it also meant that Abe was unable to move away without drawing more attention to the two of you.

With Johann droning on and on, you let your mind wander, telepathically insisting that Abe not be shy about getting a little rougher with you. You’re an agent of the BPRD, you can handle a bit more forcefulness… To this, his eyes get a little shifty, side-eyeing you the best he can (he is literally fish-eyed) and clearing his throat, before trying to keep up with the topic at hand. He diverts the attention to you, in a vain attempt to put a pause on your dirty thoughts.

“Oh, yeah.. Kraus is onto something with that theory, I think the pieces do fit together into some kind of key,” you pip up, moving your hand off of Abe’s to brush against his bare thigh. He mentally curses himself for not wearing full length pants that day. As you casually draw little circles over the top of his leg, moving ever closer to the inside of his thigh, you continue, “and the key has to fit a lock..” you raise your eyebrow, as you picture a completely different kind of key and lock in your mind.

Abe snorts, sitting upright and putting his hand over yours to stop that incessant caressing, and clears his throat gently before adding his input to the conversation.

With that, your mind goes wild; It’s full of thoughts of him being more stern with you, suggesting that he should leave some marks for you to cover up, maybe putting you in your place so you don’t dare distract him during the next meeting, maybe making it so you are the one that has to hold in your moans this time around, the list goes on and on..

And finally, finally, when the meeting is adjourned, you happily stand and bid the team good evening, walking off down the halls back to your living space, not knowing that you’re in for a long night ahead..

You unwind a little bit, not thinking too much about how badly you teased him. The thought of apologizing for your misbehaviour crosses your mind, and you decide to pay your partner a visit in the library before you turn in for the night. He did furiously avoid your gaze as he left the meeting room, and only nodded politely and agreeably when  you said you’d see him later.

As usual, you knock lightly on the door before entering, and you’re surprised to not see him anywhere. “Abe..?” You call out, walking in slowly, ducking your head between the aisles and shelves to look for him. He’s clearly not in his tank, but you don’t see him anywhere else.

Suddenly, the record player starts up, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Oh, I was looking for you—OH!” Your brief moment of calm is interrupted by a cold, firm grip around your wrist, as you’re pressed up against the book shelf by none other than your sweet and loving partner.

“What had gotten into you during the debrief? Were you possessed or something?” He starts, incredulously. A jumbled reply falls from your lips, but you’re still in a bit of shock to defend yourself at this point. You manage to stutter a meek, “I’m sorry?” but that’s followed by a sharp gasp as you feel his hands running down your back and groping at your ass, with the other gripping your chin and turning your head to face him.

“I’m afraid that’s not adequate reasoning for such unprofessional behaviour, my dear,” he blinks at you, clicking his tongue in disapproval as he brushes against your sensitive spots harshly. That’s when you realize he’s definitely going to make you regret asking him to be rough with you (he couldn’t if he tried, but anyway…)

"If you're going to act like such a.. brat," he bites down hard at the junction of your neck, and pulls away as you squeal. “Oh?” He would have an eyebrow raised if he had eyebrows, but the tone of his voice says it all. “Going to make a fuss now that I’m testing your bold claims, love?” He frowns, almost mockingly. You feel the heat building in your face, and you fumble your words as you try to explain that you were just messing with him. This doesn’t stop him from shaking his head and pressing you back up against the wall, littering your neck and shoulders with bites and sucking harshly at the surface wounds, licking and lapping at your hot flesh while you squirm and slap a hand over your lips to quiet your sounds.

He will catch on and replace your hand with his, and every delicious little mewl he draws from you reverberates right into his palm, and it nearly sends him into a frenzy. He uses his lanky frame to his advantage as he turns you around and presses himself up against you. “You know well enough what you do to me,” he mumbles, rubbing you through your shorts as one hand brushes up under your shirt to grope at your chest and pinch at your nipples, “and to abuse that power.. oh, your heart is racing,” he notes, almost with a hint of amusement in his tone, as he roughly pulls your shorts down just enough to swipe a finger across your warmth. “and.. so wet, huh?”

He grips your shoulder and forces you to bend over for him as he wets and slips a digit or two inside of you, curling it to brush against your sweet spot. “I guess the feeling is mutual, hm?” He teases as he fingerfucks you while you grip the edge of the bookshelf, biting down on your lip as you struggle to contain your noises.

“Ah ah ah, keep it down.. in the library,” he leans over just to whisper that in your ear, mock scolding you and lifting your shirt up to slip the hem of it between your teeth, punctuating his comment with a soft bite to your earlobe and chuckling when you whine and try to pull away. You’re just showing him how fun you are to play with, and it unlocks a new fascination within him.

You get to decide just how many orgasms he chooses to wring out of you until he deems it appropriate to push your shoulders down and listen to your sweet garbled and muffled begging while he rails you from behind, a few fallen magazines being pushed aside as you shake under him like a thoroughly fucked out mess. It was mind-blowing, simply put.

How do you feel about tasting the mix of you two together? If you’re open to it, and he’s feeling extra offended by what you thought of during the meeting, I hope you enjoy getting held down and facefucked by your darling fishman while he coos and shushes you and praises you for taking it so well. He runs out of degrading words really quickly, actually, and can only continue to praise you because he knows that you’re enjoying the rough treatment, and he thinks it’s incredibly sexy to use you like this. You end up literally covered in his cum, with it leaking out of you and painting your face and chest and lower stomach and back, because he was.. pent up, so to speak, and he feels so guilty after he’s done with you.

“Oh dear.. oh my goodness, are you okay?” He finally asks, full of worry and chest heaving from exertion as he fusses over your limp form. You nod weakly with a content smile, stifling a giggle, your nose scrunching happily as you bask in your afterglow. He's so gentle with you afterwards, apologizing for fear of taking it too far, but you reassure him that you had a great time, despite your protests.

It isn’t until a few hours later (post bath and diligent aftercare, ofc) that you realize you’re sore in places you’ve never been sore before, and he may have bitten harder than he thought in some spots. Needless to say, you refused to pull anything at the next meeting because you were too busy feeling sorry for your poor bruised and bandaged self. It was totally worth it, though.

[reallychaoticwoo]

⛓️ Im so sorry it's taken so long but here it is! I really hope you enjoy it and I was able to do what you imagined 🖤 ⛓️

✨️ 7 Sees 1 Team ✨️

❤️Pairing: Yeosang x reader

⚠️Warnings: MDNI 18+ ONLY!! cussing, oral f receiving, fingering, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (wrap it up buttercup), soft dom Yeo, subby fan reader, squirting, voyeurism, slightly possesive Yeo🖤

‼️This is purely for entertainment purposes and does not represent the idols in any way‼️

🖤I just want to apologize again for how long this took ive had a fic that ive been stuck on that kind of shut me down mentally for a while but my writers block is over and i should be posting more frequently here soon! Also, of course theres going to be a happy fluffy ending because i am a simp for a love story even though im also a feral whore 🤣 As always i hope you enjoy and thank you so much for your support!🖤

The concert had been a whirlwind of emotions. You had screamed your heart out, laughed, cried, sang, danced, and obviously completely drooled at the unbelievably god like men preforming on stage. Sadly, the concert had come to an end but at least you still had send off to look forward to. Truly that was the only thing keeping you together in this moment. Making your way to the long hallway to find yourself a spot, you'd spotted the group out of the corner of your eye heading to their dressing room to cool down before they said their final goodbyes. You'd made eye contact with Yeosang during this brief moment and shot him a kind smile and a small wave. He returned the smile and wave before disappearing with the rest of the group.

The wait for Ateez to come back out wasn't actually that long but it felt like forever. Your anxiety had gotten the best of you thinking about how close they'd be, how they would actually be right in front of you, in person, you could genuinely reach out and shake their hand. You were shaking in anticipation. One by one the members passed down the line, each one of them making small talk with you and other fans, signing photocards or other things people had brought, and taking pictures or videos. You weren't prepared for Yeosang to reach you, not after the small hut very meaningful to you (and him, but you didnt know that), exchange of smiles the two of you had only 10 minutes prior.

A few of the girls around you were complementing the statue like man, calling him cute, adorable, sweet, ect. You just smile waiting patiently for him to get to you mumbling under your breathe almost in unison with his words "He's not cute. He's grown, he's handsome, stunning even, but not cute." Your words, which you thought no one could hear above the crowd of excited fans, caught his attention, his ears perking up at the fact you agreed with him, and not only that, you said he wasn't cute right as he had said it to the fans. To him, it felt like you understood him in that moment. He could do cute things, but he, himself, was not cute.

Finally putting himself directly in front of you to chat for a moment, he asked if you'd like a picture to which you obviously said yes. After a couple pictures, he chatted with you asking how you enjoyed the concert, who your bias was, and almost too quietly for you to hear, if you had any plans after send off. You answered every question, a little hesitant on the last one not sure how to answer as you didn't think telling him that your only plans were to go home and daydream about this night for the next week would be a good answer. Instead you said you didn't really have plans to which he smiled excitedly. Feeling a bit more confident around you and finding you were so easy to be around he asked you if you'd like to join him after send off to hang out. He wasn't obvious about it as there were many people around but his mood greatly improved after he moved away from you and continued down the line. Little did you know you had just made his night as special as he had made yours.

Finding you after send off wasn't too hard for him as you hadn't moved a single inch since he asked you to join him for the night. You felt like your heart was beating out of your chest and you'd been in a state of shock since that moment. When he caught your eyes you immediately perked up and shot him another smile and small wave, to which he returned as his made his way to you. "Hello, Tiny! Thank you for staying after, hopefully the wait wasn't too long!" Gosh, his voice was serene, melting you with every word. "No, not at all. Honestly I could've waited hours if needed it's not every day your bias asks to get to know you. I feel like this is a dream." You chuckled, a bit embarrassed at how eager you were coming off.

Noticing your nerves which he very much felt as well in this moment, he grabbed your hand and started walking with you. "Its not every day I ask to get to know a fan. If I'm being completely honest you're actually the first person I've asked to stay and wanted to get to know." The blush on his face said it all. You knew Yeosang wasn't much as much of an outgoing man as his fellow members. You admired that about him, how he seemed to be content in his own company, how he could be reserved and still scream confidence and mesmerize an entire fan base. "Well I'm honored to be the first." Your voice was barely audible, but he heard you loud and clear. "If I'm going to be truly honest, I do also feel the need to let you know you're the first one that's caught my attention in other ways as well. However I'm fully okay with getting to know you as a friend if you're uninterested in anything more than that." You froze on the spot, almost making the muscular man stumble back as his hand that was holding yours tugged against him. "I'm sorry, that was very forward. Please disregard that. I would very much like to just get to know you." Still standing in place you looked around yourself noticing you were now in a different hallway with many doors on each side of you.

Noticing some of them seemed to be dressing rooms for the background dancers and the one that seemed to be for Ateez. You slowly took a step forward letting Yeosang continue to lead you only a few more steps before you were outside the groups dressing room. Looking at the plaque on the door and then back to him you finally spoke, " I- I'm sorry for my reaction, I just.. I wasn't expecting that. But since you've been so honest with me I feel I should return the favor and let you know that I have definitely thought about more intimate scenarios involving you and myself as well. So I'm by no means going to turn you down if that's what you're insinuating." You were certain your cheeks were bright red as you looked up to the man with hopefull eyes. "Wonderful, then let's hurry with the fun half before the guys get back, we have all night to talk and get to know each other afterwards."

You hadn't even made it three steps in the door before Yeosang had you pinned against it, his lips pressed against your own, kissing you passionately, his one hand resting against your jaw, his other moving down your body to find it's place on your hip. You didn't expect this from him, but that didn't mean you were pleasantly surprised. Small soft moans escaping your lips only to be swallowed by the very hungry man in front of you. Without breaking the kiss for even a moment, he moved his hands down to your thighs giving them a gentle squeeze before lifting you up and placing you on the large vanity nearby.

Sloppy kisses and hands exploring each other already had you reeling in anticipation, your whines getting needier by the second. "Can I touch you sweetheart? I need to feel you wrapped around my fingers." The most drunken sounding yes escaped your mouth as his hands began to make their way down your thighs to your knees before traveling back up to your hips, squeezing and massaging them. His thumbs slipped under the top of your jeans, a light tug asking your permission, before taking them off of you fully. He reveled at the sight of your lower half exposed to him, licking his lips at the glistening cunt that sat before him just waiting to be devoured. Taking his shirt off, he stepped closer to you placing suckling kisses from your jaw to your shoulder and back again, all while slipping one of his fingers into your tight hole. You gasped at the intrusion, your eyes shutting at the feeling, already so close to your release. "Fuck baby, when's the last time anyone fucked this pretty little cunt of yours? You're so fucking tight for me."

Oh, he was going to ruin you for anyone else after this. Make you fit him perfectly molding your cunt to him and only him. You were perfect, you just didn't know it yet. "I, ah fuck - i.." He slipped in a second finger as you were trying to answer him to the best of your ability. "Fuuuckkk Yeo, shit, I've only ever done this twice, wrong person. Fuck please don't stop." That was it. He was determined to be the right person, the only person from here on out. "Fuck, sweet girl just waiting for me to claim you weren't you?" He slipped in a third finger, pumping it fast and hard hitting the perfect spot to make you unravel for him. Adding his thumb to the mix, tracing slow circles around your clit as his fingers pumped into you mercilessly, drove you over the edge. "Fuuck yes, yes, God yes, Yeo, make me yours." Your legs clamping together as you surrendered to your pleasure, your chest rising and falling rapidly. He slowed his pave as you rode out your high, removing his fingers to bring them to his mouth, sucking your sweet juices off them. "Shit you taste fucking delicious baby. Think you can come for me one more time before I fuck you sweetheart? You're already being such a good girl for me." You were already a mess, your mind wondering around itself in pure bliss, your previous times being nothing compared to the pleasure Yeosang just gave you using only his fingers. "Yes please, want you to taste me, all for you." You mumbled out, eyes barley open. "Such a pretty doll, so polite even being all fucked out already."

Pulling up a chair, he sat himself right infront of your soaked pussy, grabbing your thighs to hold you in place as he licked painfully slow up your folds. Your legs already trying to clamp together, still barely recovered from your previous orgasm. "Stay still precious. I want to enjoy my meal." You tried you best to follow his directions, but when his tongue made it's way deep inside you, your back arched, hips bucking up into him as your head fell back into the mirror. "I said be still princess, wouldn't want you hurting yourself, or getting hurt because you aren't listening." He emphasized his words with a hard press of his thumb to your clit. You didn't dare move but the cry you let out was all in vain as he was now rubbing harsh circles against your overly sensitive nub to hear you cry for him over and over again. You were so close to exploding under him your hands gripping the edge of the vanity for dear life. A few more harsh rubs as his tongue worked your walls strategically and you were done for. Your vision went white, stars floating around your eyes as you felt warmth flood your thighs dripping down your ass. Yeosang relentlessly lapping up every drop he could, circling your clit faster to prolong your release as long as possible.

What neither of you expected was at that very moment, was the door opening, revealing the rest of the members of Ateez standing there, mouths agape. "Shit. Uh." You struggled to straighten yourself up so you weren't on full display to the entire group but Yeosang wouldn't let you move. "Isn't she beautiful? So good for me too. I'm more soaked now than I was on stage." He looked towards the men who still hadn't moved an inch. San was the first to break the silence. "She's fucking gorgeous Yeo." The rest if the men nodded in agreement. "Oh don't I know it. Now before you all go getting any ideas, I'm going to stop that shit right now." He shot them all warning glares. Then he turned to look at you, "Princess will you please turn around for me?" His voice was even lower now, and you were in a trance. Obeying the blonde haired man you moved yourself off of the vanity trying to steady your shaking legs as you turned to face the mirror. "Good girl, now keep your eyes on yourself baby okay? I want you to see how beautiful you look when I fuck you." You shivered at his words, goosebumps spreading down your spine.

Yeosang deadpanned the group of men who were all breathing heavily at the sight before them. "Now I won't make you leave this time because I want you to listen very carefully got it?" The men all nodded, a few of them already palming their length through their pants. You heard Yeosangs belt coming undone, shortly after he was behind you one hand on your hip and the other rubbing his member up and down your sopping cunt collecting your slick before slowly pushing his thick long member inside you inch by inch. "Fuck Yeo, feel ssoo good" You're eyes rolled back as he fully sheathed himself inside. "So fucking tight for me baby, fit me perfectly." He pulled out until his tip was all that was left before thrusting into you with a quick snap. Keeping your eyes fixed on the mirror like you were told you let out a cry gasping at the painful pleasure of each harsh thrust. "FUCK AAHHH all for you, it's just for you!" Tears starting to form in the corners of your eyes as he continued to ram into you brutally, hitting all the right spots. He turned his attention to the men who most of which were now jerking themselves in their pants unable to control their need in the moment.

"I hope you all heard that. She's mine. There will be no fucking sharing so I hope you all get your fix this time, cause it will not happen again." He landed a rather hard smack to your ass as emphasis before pulling you upright by your hair. "Look at this baby, their all so needy for you. So beautiful infront of them. Too bad you're all for me. Isn't that right darling?" You were sobbing at this point your brain was no longer in control you'd fully surrendered to pleasure. To the pleasure Yeosang provided. "R-ri-right Yeo. Only - only yours, please, f-fuck- please Yeo..." You weren't fully sure why you were begging you just knew you were fucking close to snapping, your body ready to come undone for the third time tonight. Yeosang was kind enough to give you what you needed, pulling your back flush against his chest, his hand wrapped around your throat as he leaned in to suck on the dip of your neck, his other hand snaking it's way down to your pretty little clit. Speeding up his pace becoming more sloppy with each thrust he pulled away from your neck with a pop, the purple mark prominent only making him more eager. "I need you to tell me where you want me darling, I'm close." You barely registered his words, on the edge of your own high. "Inside, please Yeosang I need you inside of me, make me yours, please please" Coming undone as you begged him to do the same, your vision going white yet again, your body loosing its hold on itself. If it weren't for Yeosang holding you against him you definitely would've fallen. At the sound of your pleas, and the feeling of your walls spasming around him, the warm spray of your release coating his thighs and everything near by, his hips studdered deep into you his hot ropes of cum spurting all over your walls. Coming down from his own high he gave a few more shallow thrusts before pulling out of you completely.

Addressing the others in the room Yeosang said, "Now that you've all had your fun I suggest you go clean up and change. Before you do just know that we will not be speaking a word of this moving forward. And if she so chooses, she will be coming back with me." Moving quickly to kick the men out of the dressing room and lock the door, Yeosang made his way back to you to help you to the couch on the other side of the room. He gently helped you lay down making sure you were as comfortable as possible. "You did so good for me baby. Let me help you clean up and once your feeling good enough we can go to my hotel room and talk for as long as you'd like. Does that sound good?" You nodded a blissful smile painting your face.

As Yeosang went to find a towel to clean the two of you up, you recalled what he'd said to the group before kicking them out. "Yeo?" You called out to him. "Yes, darling?" He replied as his made his way back to you with a fresh towel and some water. "Did you mean what you said to them about bringing me home with you?" You asked him shyly. He'd seen you naked, hell, you just squinted on him twice, but the thought that he might want something more than that made your stomach flutter. He gently wiped away what he could before helping you with your clothing. "Of course I did. I don't say things. I don't mean beautiful. But it's your decision on if you want to come with me or not." It was almost instantly that replied, "I'd love to."

[4sturns]

i am FERAL for sub!matt. like some nasty shit.

he whines over the smallest of praise and gets so worked up when you deny him ur touch. he might even cum without you having to touch him at all. his face when he indulge him, eyes rolling back and shutting, breath uneven and labored, his hips squirming under ur contact because he’s already so fucking sensitive.

“f-fuck, oh my god…please, please, I can’t…”

his dick is still hard even after cumming 3 times. his body betrays him, he still wants more, even though it hurts so fucking good.

all self-respect has left his mind, and all that can penetrate his line of thinking is you and how good you make him feel.

he lets out the most pathetic whine when you finally start to ride him after making him cum with just ur hands. and it’s better than anything he’s felt before.

matt can tell he won’t last long, no shot. immediately his stomach is flexing and his jaw hangs slack. you grab his chin, lining it up, and spit in his mouth roughly. matt lays his hand on his throat as he swallows, groaning at the taste.

from that alone he’s already cumming, so fast and so hard, he’s begun to start babbling. “sorry, sorry, i’m cummi—oh my god, sorry. so good, you’re so good, ma. shit, fuck, i can’t…” tears form in his eyes at the aftershock of the orgasm. even after you expect him to be done, he’s still careening and shooting cum into you, accidentally biting his tongue from the excursion.

even after his orgasm his eyes stay closed as he catches his breath, making your hands rise and fall from their place on his chest.

his eyes flutter open slowly and he licks his lips and swallows. glazed over and watery, he looks up at you, still trying to catch his breath.

but you don’t give him time and you lean down to connect your lips roughly, immediately inserting ur tongue into his mouth. ur kissing him so hard he’s leaning his head back and moaning into your mouth like a fucking slut.

you get off of him and his dick slides out sloppily. matt winces at the friction, so so sensitive from how many times you made him cum.

“i can’t do another, ma. it hurts too much.” he breathes, rubbing up and down your waist, fingers gliding over your hip bones.

“ok, that’s ok,” you tell him, using your hands to slick back his hair from his face that is clinging to the sheen of sweat that formed. “wanna go take a shower?”

he nods and smiles one of his smiles, and your heart fills with admiration and warmth. you kiss his forehead one last time, and both make your way to the bathroom.

OHHHHH MYYYYYY GODDDDD MY TOES ARE CLENCHED READING THIS MY JAW IS ON THE FLOOR .. you're my new best friend

SMUT BELOW!

anon you're so right god, sub!matt would be so pathetic. all he wants to do is please you and even if he claims he's spent and can't give you another orgasm, you know he has it in him, and so does his body. he'd try so, so hard to hold on and wait for your permission to cum but god it feels so good. he'd bust a load right into you while sobbing out apologies, tears streaming down his flushed face.

he'd whimper and whine so loudly the only thing you can do is hold his jaw level to your mouth before roughly spitting in it. at that he'd let out the prettiest moan, quieting down into incoherent mumbles and curses.

why not make him take another round while you're at it. but with his hands cuffed to the headboard. blindfolded too, just to see him squirm with anticipation. his cock twitches at even the slightest of touches, whimpering so pathetically it makes you dizzy.

hell, he'd be so worked up that he'd come the moment he finally feels your lips on his skin, whether or not you're kissing close to his throbbing cock or not doesn't matter to him. after all he's just a pitiful little toy, a good one. wanting nothing more than to please you, and only you.

while he's handcuffed, why not take the blindfold off and give him a little show. why not tie a vibrator to his angry cock and leave him to fend for himself while you prop yourself up on the end of the bed. you touch yourself slowly, whining and moaning for matt while he's lost in his own ecstasy as the vibrator buzzes away right by his sweet spot. he tries so hard to keep his eyes on you, but with how worked up he is and how many orgasms you've already pulled from him, he knows he can't keep up anymore. his eyes roll back as his thighs flex, cock twitching before he cums all over his stomach.

he's out of breath as are you. you turn the vibrator off while cooing at him, telling him how he's your good boy, how he did oh so well for you.

he'd give you the sweetest fucked out eyes before mumbling, "all for you mamas, only for my mamas."

[sydsaint]

My Boy!!!!!! He's back and he's ADORABLE AND SEXY <3

Summary: Wheeler makes his triumphant return to AEW and the BCC. The first person to greet him upon his return? His boyfriend and fellow BCC member of course!!

You stand in the BCC locker room practically vibrating with excitement. Jon notices the eager smile on your face and chuckles.

"Calm down, kid, he'll be here soon." Jon ruffles your hair playfully.

"Right." You cough. "Sorry, Mox." You apologize and stop pacing the room like a feral animal.

Bryan laughs from across the room and shakes his head. "It's alright, kid. You miss your boyfriend, so what? Can't blame you for that."

You feel a bit better about your excited state after Bryan's reassurance that your feelings are valid. You decide to save your energy for the match you've all got later and sit down on a bench. Your leg bounces up and down rapidly while you wait.

A while later, the locker room door swings open, and you hop to your feet. Claudio steps through the door, and you frown, disappointed that it's not Wheeler.

"Wow, YN." Claudio muses when he sees your frown. "You could as least try and act like you're excited to see me." He jokes.

"Sorry, Claudio." You rub the back of your neck.

Claudio laughs again and steps out of the way of the door. He smiles and watches your frown warp into a smile when someone else steps through the door.

"Wheeler!" You practically jump for joy when Yuta comes through the door.

"Hey, YN. You miss me?" Wheeler muses and opens his arms up for a hug.

You hug your boyfriend tightly, not caring one bit about Jon, Byan, and Claudio all watching you.

It's been weeks since you've been properly able to see Wheeler. Your busy schedule working on AEW and New Japan for the last few months means you haven't been home in a while. And to say that you've missed Wheeler would be the understatement of the century.

"Gosh, I am so glad that you're back." You snuggle up to Yuta happily.

"Me too." Wheeler chuckles. "I can't wait for us to tag together tonight!" He gushes. "It's been way to long since I've been able to get into the ring."

After you've reaquainted yourself with your boyfriend, you let him mingle with Mox, Bryan, and Claudio for a while.

Everyone gets ready for the tag match and file out of the locker room. Mox leads everyone through the back halls of the arena so the team can head out to the ring from the side entrance as usual.

You all come to a stop at the darkened entrance and Mox waits for his music to play.

"You ready, Wheeler?" You ask Yuta, standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

"Hell yeah!" Wheeler nods, his hand brushing yours.

The two of you lock your hands together and wait for your cue. Mox's music hits and everyone files out toward the ring. You and Wheeler head out last and strut down the stairs shoulder to shoulder. The crowd is electric as everyone heads down to the ring. You admire the eager smile on Yuta's face as the two of you head down toward the ring.

God, you've missed this.

Being in the ring is always fun, yes. But nothing beats being able to wrestle in the ring with the man that you love.

"Alright! Let's do this!" You hop up onto the apron with Wheeler and the starting bell rings.

Claudio starts out the match so you eagerly await a tag in. Claudio eventually grows tired of being in the ring and heads over to the corner to tag someone in. You're the closest one to Claudio so he tags you in.

You hop into the ring and hit a few offensive moves on your opponet. The crowd eagerly cheers for you and you soak up the attention like it's a drug. You start to really get into the moment until you remember that Wheeler is eagerly waiting for a tag on the apron.

"Go get 'em, babe!" You roll over to your teams corner and tag Wheeler into the match.

"Yes!" Yuta cheers for himself and happily hops over the top rope and into the ring.

You laugh and step through the ring ropes back out onto the ring apron. When you turn back around Wheeler is going at it with his opponnet and you can tell that he's having the time of his life. It makes your heart flutter seeing how happy he looks being back in the ring after so long.

"Yeah! Get him, Yuta!" You cheer for Wheeler while he's in the ring.

The tag match comes to an end when Wheeler manages to pin his opponnet to the mat for the win. The bell rings and the rest of the team drives off your opponets from the ring.

You jump through the ring ropes and haul Wheeler to his feet. He leans on you, breathing heavily as you raise his hand in victory.

"Yeah! Nice job, babe!" You praise Wheeler and lean over to kiss his cheek.

Wheeler hugs your side and the rest of the team all file back into the ring. They surround you and Wheeler and everyone celebrates both the victory and Yuta finally being back in action.

Your boyfriend is back in action and better than ever. And the BCC is on their way to being back on top of AEW.

All is right in the world again.

[readychilledwine]

Bliss

Summary - You and Tamlin were in desperate need of a break with Amarantha looming in your lives.

Warnings - Amarantha, foreshadowing/alluding to a character's death, water

A/n - I have so many headcannons/ideas for Tamlin with a mate pre-Amarantha, and none of them end well for OC/Reader. This was originally written to be a Vanserra oc, but I liked it more from a reader mindset. I am hoping I caught everything name wise and pronoun wise, but if I didn't, my apologies 💜

"Tamlin, no!" You screamed as the High Lord picked you up. He was walking towards the ocean boarding Spring, a wide grin on his face as Lucien and Andras pointed and laughed. "Tam! Please! You just bought me this dress!"

He laughed lightly,  blonde hair swaying lightly in the wind with every step, "But y/n, you said you wished to go swimming!" 

He repositioned you so he was carrying you in his arms, smiling broadly down at your facs as you glared up  into his green eyes. "Plus you said and I quote, "I detest this dress, Tamlin." So what is the harm in taking a little swim in it?"

You couldn't help the soft giggle from leaving your throat, wrapping your arm around his neck and using the other to steady yourself on his chest. He had you there. The dress you were in was a pink monstrosity of tulle and layers. He had hoped it would finally win you over and convince you to switch out the deep jewel tones of Autumn for the light pastels of the court you would soon be Lady of.

You only wore it to see him smile the way he was right now. Smiling like Amarantha was not some looming darkness you all had been dealing with. Smiling like she had not just threatened to murder you when she learned of the bond. Smiling like this single moment of bliss was all he needed, as if it was bringing him back to life, to himself. 

You sighed contently in his arms and snuggled into his bare chest. Feeling that first splash of cool water licking your ankles. "Stop looking at me like that." His face was flushed, a soft pink glow tinting his cheekbones and nose

You smiled softly, "Like what?"

He was into his thighs, water beginning to lap at the pink tulle netting and kissing your lower legs. "Like you think I've planted every flower for you. Like you love more than anything this realm could offer."

And Gods did you. You loved Tamlin long before the bond snapped, and you would love him to your grave if it came down to it. You  gasped as cold water hit your lower back and butt, making you squirm lightly.  "Tam, I didn't bring extra clothing!" 

"I specifically said, Y/n, bring extra clothing. We're going to the beach for a family day," you not bringing extra clothing is on you, sunflower."

You hardly had time to scream out, "Tamlin, no," as he tossed you out of his arms and into the surf. Cold water kissed your skin as you allowed yourself to sink a little further into the salty depths of the Spring Court Coastline. You felt a hand find yours, lacing your fingers together before pulling you up.

You broke the surf gasping. Instantly throwing your arms around Tamlin's next and soaking his bare chest. You could feel it vibrating with each joyful laugh leaving his body. You couldn't stop yourself, acting impulsively on a childish need and splashing him in the side of the face with water. 

Tamlin's jaw dropped as he spit out the salty liquid, his smile became feral, a playful glint appearing in his eyes. "Well, sunflower,  you've done it now." Tamlin picked you back up, attempting to toss you again, but you clung to him. Ripping him into the water with you, arms around his neck and he secured his around your waist. He pulled you two back up, laughing loudly again. His arms stayed around you, lifting you slightly above him as one of your hands came to touch his cheek. "You love me," He teased quietly. 

"Mhm," you nodded back. "I love you more than anything the realm could offer." He shook his head, moving the wet hair from your face.

"Will my bride honor me with a kiss?" You surrendered to his need immediately, lips finding his and sighing. The taste of the sea lingered on both of you as he kissed you back with equal passion. He pulled away and leaned your foreheads together. "Let's get you back to shore, my flower. I brought extra clothing for you." He used his hands to lift your dress enough to hold your legs around his waist. "Maybe we should move up the wedding," his voice was soft in your ear. "Have it before the High Lord's ball she's throwing?"

The sentence leaving your lips next would doom you, you knew deep down it would, but you wanted this. You needed this. You wanted this blissful moment knowing you would die at her hands no matter what you decided. "Maybe it should be tomorrow."

Tamlin's eyes lit up, "Tomorrow," he agreed. 

[valentineshearts]

Feral

A/N: per my last post I have edited and am now posting a fic I wrote circa March 2022. My colonial man kink really popped off with this one. I’ll probably be doing this for a while, slowly working through and editing my old stuff and posting it, so a part two of Fallin For Ya should eventually be posted, and some multichapter fic ideas I had that have google docs of their own will probably be written. Always on mobile, so if things are formatted weird that is in fact why.

CW: Fem! Reader, Belos being Belos

Summary: Philip Wittebane, local feral human and probably murderer of Bonesborough scrambles into the newly built library while trying to avoid Blue Fangs brothers, and finds out why he was always warned about the temptation witches can be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Philip scrambled in through the doors of the newly built Bonesborough Library. Slamming the doors behind him, he fell against them, chest heaving as he gulped in the air. Those two brothers really were becoming a damnable thorn in his side, especially now that his freshly broken nose gave them more ammunition for their taunts and jeers. He didn’t much care for their opinion — they were witches after all, and as contemptible as the rest of their kind — but that didn’t make it any less infuriating for these creatures to look down on him as if HE were the lesser being.

“Um…..are you alright sir?”

He opened his mouth to retort before he had even glanced at the witch addressing him, but as soon as he caught a glimpse, his mouth snapped shut. Suddenly, he understood every warning he’d ever been given about the temptation witches could be.

“Sir? Sir are you alright?!”

She sounded very far away, as if through a great body of water, and yet he was shocked to find that she had moved closer to him. Her hand moved towards his face and he snatched it up, unthinking, his base instincts that he had developed over the years setting off their warning alarms. She flinched and let out an unladylike little squeal of surprise (which was quite frankly adorable), and the bubble he was in, this strange, slowed moment of time popped; and suddenly he was himself again. Confident, assured, charming, and ready to fully sweep the most exciting thing he had yet encountered in this Hell off of her feet.

“Oh, pardon me miss. I was running away from some thugs; I think I’m still a bit jumpy. My deepest apologies.”

He gave her a sad, long suffering look and her face softened, much to his delight.

“Oh you poor dear! Are you hurt?”

He sighed, casting his gaze down and fighting a rather giddy smile over her sudden fawning over him.

“I don’t think so, but could I bother you for a spot to sit down in? If it isn’t any trouble.”

“Oh of course! No trouble at all dear, right this way.”

It was at this moment that he realized that he had never let go of her hand, as she had twisted hers in his grasp to lead him to a small back room with a table and kitchen. This time, he allowed a small smile to spread on his face.

“You are a truly kind woman Miss….?”

She flushed, a smile of her own forming, and he became rather glad that he was sitting down because God if his knees didn’t go weak.

“(Y/N). Miss (Y/N) (L/N).”

He let his smile grow wider, still keeping an edge of softness to it. He tightened his hold on her hand and pressed his lips to it firmly. For a moment, he worried he’d gone a bit too far, but soon relished in the gasp she made, and the way her fading blush returned, more prominent than ever.

“Well then Miss (Y/N), it is a true pleasure to meet you.”

His smile widened, pressed against her hand, as she spluttered a little. Oh he was going to have fun with her. It had been a very long time since he’d had a true companion. And never one like her. Oh she was already so giving and trusting; too trusting. He’d have to keep her close, for her own protection. And if he happened to find any satisfaction from her presence? Well then, that was just an added delight.

“Would you like some tea?”

Wittebane snapped out of his reverie to look up at her still flushed face, a thrill shooting through him at the sight of it. Yes, he could get used to this very easily.

“Tea would be lovely my dear; thank you.”

She flushed a little deeper, and then gently, (Reluctantly? Perhaps he was projecting), detached her hand from his, before turning around and making her way to a stove behind her, adding fresh kindling to the fire within. He watched her go and easily descended back into his previous line of thought. Yes, he would take good care of her. He would offer her everything he could possibly get his hands on; the whole of the isles would be hers, not even if she asked, but if he deemed that she should have it. A familiar voice passed through his head, wind through empty autumn trees, asking him if he wasn’t maybe being a bit too hasty in his devotion; if perhaps the loneliness had made him overeager to fill the void with the first pretty girl he’d seen, the passion he’d always repressed overflowing. He told that voice to shut up, with its sage advice, and its familiarity, and go right back to where he had left it, dirty and bleeding on the accursed ground.

Begrudgingly, he acknowledged to himself that there was an infuriatingly sound point to be had though. He was being a bit too quick, tripping over himself a little. Oh but it was so easy when she was so beautiful, and so kind. When this possessiveness was flooding through his veins, fogging up his senses, making everything go soft, was raging in equal measure as the curse that thrummed through him like a second heartbeat; he hadn’t felt this human in a very long time. And well, if he’d given himself over to sin already, fallen victim to lying and theft and murder — what was a little covetousness. Just another broken stone slab. Another commandment littered on the ground behind him, with all the bodies and the toil and the blood and tears. After all that, he deserved a little softness. He deserved something to keep, to treasure —

His gaze came into focus on her figure as she poured him a cup of tea, and he schooled his expression into something pleasantly neutral and gentlemanly, suddenly aware of the near feral look of desperation and want that had spread across his face as he had descended into his thoughts.

“By the way…if I may ask, what is your name?”

He faltered for a moment. He knew his name, obviously, of course he did, but it didn’t feel…appropriate anymore. He was far from the same man who had come to the Boiling Isles, and no one had called him by anything other than “human” in so long; with those two brothers, and so many others after him, maybe it was time for a fresh slate…

“Belos. My name is Belos.”

[oohnotvery]

Edges of the Night (Chapter 16)

**tw/cw implied suicidal thoughts**

Thank you so much for keeping up with this story   I loved writing that last chapter but truthfully, I haven’t had the stomach to read the comments yet because I’m scared!

In other news, one of my favorite characters to write is angry, outraged, incensed, deranged Scully. I think those were Gillian’s best moments on the show, and I can just picture her seething and frothing with fury here. I hope you enjoy my iteration of Angry Scully.

She didn’t mean to do it.

She didn’t mean to fall asleep.

She knew better than to let her guard down, not while Mulder was spouting off crazy things like your life will be better without me. But he had settled them so comfortably in the bed, forehead to forehead, and his arms had felt so good around her shoulders, and his breathing was so slow and steady in her ear, and her body was so exhausted from fighting for so long . . .

The moment she opens her eyes, Scully knows what he’s done.

She sits up so fast her vision blurs. She whips around to the other side of the bed, finding his place empty, gone cold many hours ago.

Panic, then fear, then anguish hit her like tidal waves, and then she’s sprinting through the upstairs rooms. He’s not anywhere to be found, so she flies downstairs, tripping over the last step. Alan appears out of nowhere and reaches out to steady her but she shakes him off.

She zeroes in on Frohike, who looks awfully suspicious leaning against the front door.

Indignation swells in her chest and she storms over to him, reaching out to yank him away. Her fingertips are just brushing the edge of his jacket when Byers throws an arm in between them, blocking her. Without thinking, her hand flies out and she smacks him across the cheek. Byers stumbles backward in shock and she gapes at him, surprised by her own actions.

A long moment passes where the entire room falls still with anticipation. Scully’s gaze locks onto Byers’ bewildered look, and as a red mark slowly starts to bloom across his cheek, she blinks.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathes.

He shakes his head slowly and raises a palm to his face, as if to check whether she really did slap him. His eyes turn somber. “No, we’re the ones who should be apologizing, Agent Scully.”

She glances around at Frohike and Langly, who are studying her with awkward, guilt-ridden looks. Sensing Alan and Skinner nearby, she twists around, seeing them standing shoulder-to-shoulder like a pair of soldiers. A low, boiling sensation curls hot in her belly.

Each and every one of these men betrayed her.

Each and every one of these men helped Mulder leave her.

“You have to tell me where he went,” she warns them all darkly, her voice trembling with rage. If Alan is put off by her intensity, he doesn’t show it.

Byers shakes his head remorsefully. “We don’t know.”

She turns on Frohike, stabbing a finger at his chest. “You have to know. If he were going to tell anyone where he was going, it would be you.” Her chest heaves and she sees a flutter of acknowledgement in Frohike’s eyes. She seizes on it. “You do know where he went, don’t you?” Her eyes turn feral, accusatory. She steps forward, pushing Byers aside. “Are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to shake it out of you?”

The little man looks momentarily alarmed, but then his face assumes a mask of composure. “I—I don’t know where he is,” he says weakly, “and I would do almost anything to take this pain from you,” he adds with sincerity. His brow creases in agony. “But I—I don’t know . . . .”

“You’re lying.”  

He shifts uncomfortably and she wonders if she really has it in her to hurt him, if she’s really willing to do that to get to Mulder.

“I won’t—I can’t—I don’t know where he is,” he repeats defeatedly, but he is unwilling to meet her gaze.

“Then you are dead to me,” she spits. Frohike’s eyebrows shoot up and she steps in closer, lowering her voice. “You think you know what’s best for Mulder? Or for me? Do you think Mulder gets to decide what’s best for my life? When am I going to get to make my own goddamn choices?” She whips around to face the rest of the room. “When are any of you going to realize that my life isn’t yours to manipulate?”

“Dana,” comes Alan’s soothing voice, and she draws in a lungful of air, willing herself to breathe. But there’s no air in this room. No air, no life, no hope. She turns over her shoulder to glance back at Frohike, whose face has turned pale with shame.

“I don’t know, Dana,” he finally whispers, and a flicker of doubt slides down her spine.

If Frohike isn’t lying—if he really doesn’t know where Mulder is—then there is no hope of ever seeing Mulder again.

Despair slips into her bones, begins to paralyze her muscles. Her vision spins and she takes a staggering step forward, pushing past Frohike to open the front door. Wintry air blasts her face as she stumbles down the porch steps and into the shelter of a grove of pine trees. She glances up at the darkening sky through tired eyes and prays for night to consume her. And then she turns her back on the house and throws up.

**

The plan is simple.

Skinner delivers the details to her a few hours after she storms out of the house, but only after trying and failing to get her to eat. He doesn’t bother apologizing or even acknowledging her anger. Instead, he is all FBI boss, briefing her on the facts and only the facts.

In the morning, he will drive her and Alan to the nearest regional airport, where they will board a plane for San Diego and, as Skinner shares through gritted teeth, “return to your normal lives.” To appease friends, family, work, the media, and the shadowy cohort of villains that has done this to her, Scully will sit for one short press briefing about her recent experience. She will tell the world that Fox Mulder kidnapped her and that once he was apprehended, he took his own life. If asked about her own gunshot wound, she will say Mulder inflicted it upon her.

She closes her eyes at this detail. It is beyond excruciating to think about publicly blaming Mulder for her suffering.

Skinner, she learns, is expected to return to the FBI as if nothing happened. He doesn’t offer up the details of his own experience and she doesn’t press.

She doesn’t really care, not about him, and certainly not about the Gunmen. When they try to bid her goodbye the next morning, she refuses to acknowledge them beyond a curt nod. She knows she should thank them for saving her life, for helping them get to safety, for providing a safe house in Montana, for coming to her rescue in the hospital . . . but she can barely look at them, much less speak. She’s afraid if she does open her mouth, it’ll be just to blast them all with another angry tirade.  

But she’s operating on pure tunnel-vision. All she can see is Mulder, alone in this great vast world, alone in his suffering, never to see her ever again.

**

It’s Scully’s fifth time going down to the beach this week. She’s exhausted and her body needs rest, but she every time she closes her eyes, she sees Mulder. It’s been a week since she left the house out in West Virginia, a week since she and Alan flew back to San Diego.

Her life has been intolerable since returning: an unbearable press conference followed by a visit from her mother, an awkward phone call with her boss about taking leave. Oh, and then whatever happened last night.

Alan has visited her apartment every day since they returned to the west coast. He’s been good to her in a way that she hadn’t anticipated, especially since her behavior has been objectively unpleasant. First, the poor man was an unknown onlooker during her heartfelt reunion with Mulder; then he witnessed her enraged outburst at the house; and now that they’re back home, he’s got a front-row seat to her complete physical and emotional withdrawal.

But it hasn’t stopped him from bringing food over every night, or from running to the store for pain meds when her shoulder injury brings her to tears, or from filling her prescription antibiotics, or from driving her to the press briefing, or from changing the channel anytime the news mentions Mulder.

He hasn’t pressed her for anything, not for reciprocity, not for physicality, not for intimacy, not even for conversation. She assumes he’s anxious to return to the way things were between them, but her body feels more closed off than ever. Every night after he leaves, she cranks up the shower and slips inside to cry. Alan hasn’t so much as touched her hand since they left the home in West Virginia.

But tonight as he was preparing to leave, he took a step into her and gave her a quick, friendly parting hug. Their bodies didn’t even touch; just a brief touch of his arms around her shoulders. But it startled her so badly that she jerked away, and then watched with a sense of uncertainty as he apologized, then left.

Simply put, she isn’t ready for another man to touch her body. She’s relieved he hasn’t tried to kiss her. Even though she knows it’s absurd to want this for the rest of her life, she wants Mulder’s lips to be the last hers ever touch.

After Alan leaves, she debates slipping into the shower and giving into the desire to purge her emotions with a long cry. But tonight, the hug seems to have left her bereft, and a shower sounds emotionally exhausting. Instead, she tries to sleep, but like every night, rest doesn’t come easy. She’s considering taking a dose of the sleeping pills she used to rely on so heavily, but something about the prospect of drugging herself has been off-putting since she returned. So instead, after an hour of tossing and turning, she slips into sandals, loose pants, and a sweater, and heads down to the beach, just like she has every night for the past few days.

Her emotions confuse her as much as they overwhelm her. She knows, logically, that her brain is trying to process trauma. She recognizes the symptoms, knows that this vacillation between numbness and hyperarousal is normal. She recognizes that the ping-ponging between disconsolate grief and gut-wrenching anger is also normal. She also recognizes that her anger feels better than her grief, and so she nurses the anger whenever it comes up.

As she stomps down the sand towards the ocean, she feels overcome with fury. Fury towards Mulder, who once again decided he knew best. Fury towards Skinner and Frohike for the same reason. Fury towards Alan for touching her tonight. And most agonizingly, fury towards herself for falling asleep the day Mulder left.

Here on the beach, her muscles tense as that fury washes over her, as it burns through her system. It leaves her gasping aloud and clenching her fists so tightly that her skin breaks under her sharp nails.

The fury sings through her so fast and so feverishly that she keels over, clutching at her aching stomach. She knows she can’t go on like this. The rage inside her is exhausting.

She’s staring down at the waves lapping at her feet when it hits her—for the hundredth time this week—that she may never see Mulder again. That, even if she spent the rest of her life searching for him, she may never find him. As this thought overwhelms her, her anger slowly starts to morph into agony. She pushes at that feeling—no, go away—because while the anger is exhausting,the heartache is literally unbearable. She knows she cannot let herself give into her anguish. But before she can tame the thoughts and feelings whirling in her mind, her body catches up to her grief, and sweat breaks out along the back of her neck. She collapses to her knees. Waves crash around her legs and waist and saltwater stings at the small cuts on her palms. Her eyes burn.  

How is she supposed to go on? What does life even look like without Mulder?

A strangled laugh escapes her. Hell, just a few weeks ago, there was a perfectly clear, perfectly pleasant answer to that question. Life without Mulder looked like Alan, and beach life, and a stable job, and California. Life without Mulder looked like sleeping pills at night, a mental blockade in her mind, and a heart that was partially stonewalled.

And then Mulder re-entered her conscious mind, and now here she is, as bereft as a grieving widow, lonely, heartbroken, angry, disconsolate. A large part of her wishes that he had never tried to save her life in the first place.

What is my life without him in it?

Scully stares out at the sea and her thoughts drift to another lifetime, to all the times she watched her mother valiantly hold back tears as her father sailed away. Her father dictated her mother’s life and emotions for so long. He called the shots with his comings and goings. And Maggie Scully was always expected to accept his choices.

A wave laps at her wrists and Scully’s mind starts to shift, to turn. Why is she, too, letting these men control so much of her life? What if she told them—all of them, Skinner, Mulder, the Gunmen, the super-villains who wanted Mulder dead—that her life is her own? That her choices are hers to make? That she’s in control of her own narrative?

Fuck you, living out the “normal life” that Mulder so desperately thinks she needs.  

Fuck you, California and Alan and a prosperous career as a doctor.

Fuck you, a life built on choices other people made for her.

She stares out at the deep, dark, ocean, and begins to imagine the weight of the waves gliding over her body, begins to fantasize about the calm, peaceful pull of the sea as she slips down, down, down.

She could do it, right here, right now. She could wade out into the ocean and make her own fate. This time, the choice could be hers. Slowly, she rises to her feet and takes a step deeper into the sea. The waves pull at her knees, like they’ve heard her thoughts and relish the idea of this sailor’s daughter joining them in the saltwater depths.

How else can she take back control? she thinks erratically. Is this really the only way?

She stands in the breakers for a long time, so long that the moon rises above her head and tiny fish start to nip at her ankles. Everything and nothing pass through her mind. The hopelessness of her future, the grief that will follow her wherever she goes.

Will her life be bearable?

Grief is a noose around her neck, dragging her deeper into the water. And then, out of nowhere, she feels it. The tiniest, most insignificant trickle of hope.

Because Mulder isn’t dead, nor are they estranged. He’s out there in the world, alive and in love with her, and that means she can find him. As long as she’s alive, she can spend the rest of her life looking for him. And for a few critical moments, this faint sliver of hope is enough.

With one last look at the sea, she drags her feet out of the heavy, wet sand and slowly, resolutely walks back to the beach.