#big time rush scenarios

[inkameswetrust]

anyone else get distracted from writing by daydreaming abt what you're currently writing??

[allthistrashtalkmakemeitchin]

A Carlyn drabble to cope. They make me happy.

Tw: mention of alcoholism absuive environment

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"Die faster! You aren't dying quicker!"

Ashlynn thought it would be a good idea to move in with her aunt and uncle. She had enough with her apartment complex. It was a good idea at the time, but now she was regretting it.

The walls were impossibly thin and she could hear her aunts voice over the television. The door slammed and she jumped. She was finishing up one of her assignments and her nervous system was thrown into fight or flight.

Now, every time her aunt walked out of her bedroom she would yell at her uncle in the living room. The door would slam or she would make loud noises in the kitchen.

Ashlynn couldn't finish her assingment. She grabbed her jacket, stuffing her keys and wallet in the pockets. Opening the window she lifted one leg over the windowsil and took a steady breath.

Her aunt and uncle lived in a ranch style home, so it wasn't like she was on the second story. Pulling herself through the window, the air had a winter chill that nipped at her face. Shutting her window she snuck through the backyard.

She wouldn't be able to sleep at night if she stayed any longer. So, she went to the only place she knew. The PalmWoods. Carlos had taken her home a number of times. Although she could drive, she chose to walk.

Lucky for her, Carlos was up when a knock came. If it were Kendall, she didn't want to explain anything to him. He would offer solutions and all she wanted was a distraction. Without thinking about it, he opened the door.

"Ashlynn?"

"I'm sorry, I just can't be home right now."

"Oh." He scratched the back of his neck and looked around to see if anyone woke up. "Come— Come in."

Ashlynn stepped inside and closed the door. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. She was tired, but the adrenaline was running through her veins.

"Are you okay? What's wrong? What happened?"

"I'm fine, I guess... I just can't be there." Ashlynn sighed and rolled her shoulders. "My uncle is drunk again."

"Shit— Ash, I'm sorry."

Carlos was quick to hug her. Her uncle was an alcoholic. Thankfully, he never truly raged but he had started to rage. Finally, her aunt decided to snap and rage back.

"I'm sure Mrs. K would let you stay the night, the couch is free." Carlos's eyes sparkled. He would do anything to help. "I could even stay out here with you if you don't want to be alone."

"Thanks, Carlos."

[kurooh]

HORNY BRAINROT.

☆ includes: aged up! various characters from bnha

☆ warnings: 18+ content, reader is gn or fem depending on the scenario, drug use (weed & alcohol), somnophilia (consent given prior!!), nsfw. not proofread

thinking of izuku coming back home after a long day at the agency; he bends you over the kitchen table you were both about to eat on, and he skips dinner and goes in for dessert between your thighs.

sucking on eijirou’s cock desperately while he pushes your head down and tells you to take it. when he gets close, he yanks your head off him and you switch to jerking him off, your eyes closing as his cum sprays on your face. he groans loudly when you sweep your fingers across your wet skin and then suck on them, looking up at him innocently.

always a lover of public sex, dabi fucks you in alleyways, on rooftops, behind cars at night, and all across the city. he especially enjoys taking you from behind, your back pressed against his chest and his hand wrapped around your throat — he often fucks you like this in sight of the sky during the #2 hero’s patrols.

sometimes hitoshi can’t sleep, so he gently pulls the blankets away from your sleeping figure, admiring you in the dark. he’ll kiss your tummy, hips, and pelvis, then peel away your underwear, his tongue rushing to taste the sweetness between your folds. when you cum, you moan as though you’re in a dream, rarely waking up — occasionally he’ll make you cum so hard you wake up gasping his name.

keigo finds himself feeling overwhelmed when you ride him, his eyes rolling back and his entire body shaking each time he sees your greedy pussy swallow the whole length of his cock. as he unravels more and more, his wings represent how he feels with their wild movements. when he cums loudly, his wings rush in, wrapping around the both of you, pulling you close to him.

despite his shy demeanor, tamaki is a FREAK. he’ll have you sit in a chair, blindfolded, limbs tied to the back and the legs. then, he’ll tease you with kisses and touches, lightly slapping your thighs if you try to pull free to touch him. after a long while, he’ll spread your pussy open and spit onto your clit, then tease you further.

speaking of spitting, katsuki enjoys spitting into your pussy as well, or making you spit onto his cock to lube it up for sex or jerking him off.

i offer u: denki + hanta tag team. hanta’s on his back, your back is on his chest, his cock is stretching out your ass. while he’s thrusting up into your ass and holding you close, denki’s fucking in and out of your pussy with his overstimulated cock. his cum drips from your cunt and trickles down hanta’s cock, adding more lubrication. a threesome with these two would be insane because they would try out every position and cum once from it before stopping.

despite hating it when you edge him, shoto loves it. he’ll sigh shakily, hissing out, “ah— god, make me cum already, stop fucking with me!” but when you let him get real close, he begs you to stop and edge him. it’s confusing but ultimately he enjoys it, and always cries when he cums after edging.

drinking with katsuki always gets rowdy; he’ll show you off, get jealous more easily, and fuck you harder. after a night at the bar and way too many shots, he hops into an uber with you and heads to an expensive hotel instead of your home. katsuki books a big room, the one with the best view of the city and streets (it’s also 2-4 stories up from the lobby). when you get into the room, he practically rips your clothes off, pushing you against the big window overseeing the people and cars beneath. then, he fucks you right against the window, your tits pressed against the glass.

dry humping with eijirou in his agency office with an unlocked door, his hard cock rubbing against your pussy through layers and layers of clothing. when his precum is dripping through his underwear, and your panties are soaked with your slick, he removes whatever’s in the way, besides your underwear. when you start to get loud as his clothed cock creates more friction against you, he pulls off your wet underwear and stuffs them into your mouth, saying, “shh, baby. you have to be quiet, okay? don’t want any of the staff coming in, right?”

sharing a joint with keigo on the balcony of your shared apartment, plumes of smoke swirling around you as he spreads your legs. he always enjoys making out with your pussy before he eats you out, taking your folds and clit between his lips as he drags his tongue against you. he stares up at you with reddened eyes, desperate for your approving moans and facial expressions.

being fucked doggy style by izuku, either in your pussy or ass, as he praises you and your beautiful reflection in the mirror. “oh, you’re so gorgeous.. make me feel so damn lucky every time i look at you.” if you refuse to look, he leans over you, his pecs pressing into your upper back as he tugs your chin. he demands, “watch yourself cum” or “if you look away, i’ll stop pounding you”

shoto always cums within a few minutes of 69ing with you.. the way you desperately hump at his face and gobble down his cock always proves to be too damn much for him. he used to feel embarrassed, but now he just pushes through the overstimulation and adjusts you how he likes, slurping at your pussy loudly as you moan on his cock.

sexting with denki during his work hours, and sending him sneaky photos of your tits/ass/pussy when you know he’s busy. he’s always so quick to read your messages, and he rushes to the bathroom to hide his boner in a stall. he texts you to tell you what he’s gonna do to you, how desperate he is, or he’ll send mirror selfies, his hard cock visible through his pants.

phone sex with dabi, who easily makes you torture yourself. and god, does he sound good — he tells you what to do, rewarding you with his moans/groans or pictures. he’ll talk you through your orgasm, demanding that you keep fingering yourself or stop to ruin it. if you sob over his instructions, he’ll briefly reassure you, and then tell you to shut up and do what he says (he reminds you to be a good girl/slut or threatens to not fuck you).

god.. hitoshi loves filming you going dumb on his cock. most of the videos in his ‘us vids’ folder start off with him praising you as he moves the camera around your body, capturing every inch of you. “so pretty, god damn.” as the video progresses from gentle to rougher, his hand is wrapped around your neck, squeezing enough for you to gasp often. you’re a mess, babbling pleas as you cry his name, eyes rolling back and drool slipping from the corner of your mouth. by the time he’s cumming, you’re begging for him to fill you up, not a single other thought in your head. later, still filming, he thumbs away the saliva at the corner of your mouth; he kisses you and asks if you’re okay.

food play with tamaki, who eagerly gobbles strawberries off your tits, or the whipped cream designs all over your pelvis. even after your skin is free from all the sweetness or its residue, he licks you hungrily, then starts to bite hickeys into your skin. he blushes when you pinch one of his sensitive ears between your fingers and give it a tug — “tamaki, put your tongue to good use and eat me out.”

[homeofthelonelywriter]

When Simon kissed you goodbye and watched you excitedly rush to your friend’s car, he already knew that at some point that evening, he’d get a call from a fairly drunk you. What he didn’t expect though, was for that call to come from inside the police station.

“Simon? Simon, can you hear-,” your drunken giggles interrupted you. “me?” Little did you know that when he heard the typical “This is a call from xy police station. Do you accept the call?”, he had already put on his shoes and collected his car keys, rushing out of the house and to his truck.

“I can hear you love.” Your still joyful demeanor reassured him, but he still worried. “Are you okay? What happened?” In the background, he could hear the voices of you girlfriends, who sounded just as smashed as you. Another one of your giggles sounded through the phone, as you lowered your voice, trying to whisper, but it was pretty obvious that you were still loud enough to be heard. “I think-,” this time it was a hiccup that interrupted you. “-I think I did something bad.” Usually, Simon’s mind would immediately go to worst-case scenario, but you still sounded happy, so he managed to stay calm. Instead of panicking, he started the car and put you on speaker, pulling out of the driveway to make his way to the police station.

“I’ll be there in five, pretty. Can you wait for me?” You sighed happily, and he could almost picture you leaning against the wall and twirling your hair. “Oh Si, I’d wait forever for you.” He chuckled, and signed off with a quick ‘I love you’, before hanging up. Three minutes later, he walked into the brightly lit building and up to the front desk, seeing a familiar cop. As soon as Matt saw Simon, he just chuckled.

“Assumed she was yours. Kept talking about her big, scary boyfriend.” Simon chuckled as he shook his mate's hand. “How bad is it?” Matt shrugged and grabbed some keys leading Simon to the cells. “Just some public disturbance.” Simon nodded. “Charges?” “Nah. Mainly picked them up to keep them from getting into real trouble.”

The moment you saw Simon walking toward you, you squealed and thrust your arms through the bars. “Siiiiiiimooooon!” The blonde could only roll his eyes with a smile as he watched you, impatiently waiting for Matt to open the door, before you rushed into your boyfriend’s arms. He pulled you in tightly, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. After a moment, you glanced up at him, a pout on your lips.

“What’s got you pouting, pretty?” You turned and glared at Matt. “He took my tequila.” Matt raised his hands with a grin, shrugging before waving you two to follow him. “Well, we got more tequila at home.” Again you squealed, overjoyed that your drunken evening wasn’t over just yet, but when Matt turned to look at Simon with a raised eyebrow, the blonde just mouthed back ‘water’. The cop nodded with a grin, handing you a form, which you quickly signed before he handed over your personal items and bid you a good night.

As soon as you left the building, you rushed out ahead, leading to Simon quickly catching up and wrapping an arm tightly around your waist. He stirred you to his truck and quickly buckled you in, before jumping in the driver’s seat and pulling away.

“So…what did you do?” He swatted at your hand as you tried to turn up the volume of the radio. You pouted again, before sitting up straight, raising your hand and grinning at him. “I plead the fifth!” Simon chuckled, glancing at you, before focusing back on the road. “You’re in Britain, love. There ain’t no fifth.” Immediately, you slouched back down, glaring at the road. “Well, that’s bullshit.”

Before you knew it, Simon pulled into the driveway and helped you out of the car before gently leading you inside. You immediately tried to rush to the alcohol cabinet, but before you could, Simon pushed you to the bedroom. “But my tequilaaaa.” He pushed you until you sat down on the bed. “You change into your pjs and I’ll get you some tequila, okay?” You grinned and nodded, and Simon left the room, quickly filling a glass with water. On his way back, he picked up a bucket and some pain meds, planning to leave them on your nightstand.

But when he entered the bedroom again, he found you, half changed, and asleep. Still smiling, he sighed before putting everything down on your side of the bed. As gently as he could, he quickly changed you and wiped off your makeup, making sure you were as comfortable as possible, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Sleep tight, love.”

A/N: Definitely did not write this while listening to "Plead the fifth" by Cooper Alan. I love that song.

[ronearoundblindly]

Big Pharma

Steve Rogers x doctor!Reader

Written for @stargazingfangirl18's Birthday Bonenanza--HAPPY BDAY, SIRI!--using the scenario prompt ~quick, frantic, secret sex in an almost public place + babe's hand over your mouth to keep you quiet~ and the dialogue prompt "goddamnit, will you just f***ing let me do this for you?" with free use kink for good measure. Why not?

Summary: The extreme drug cocktail you devise to save Steve Rogers has one major side effect.

Warnings for smut 🥴, sorta dub-con because it's like sex pollen, F E E L S, Steve being the most chivalrous gentleman while railing you (do it for your country, babes 🫡), completely unintentional dirty talk from Steve but 😮‍�� we'll allow it, Tony being Tony, and--as always-- terrible puns. (There are no mentions of any medical instruments, except an IV, which is not used.) MINORS DNI. This is a mature gift work; see my Light Masterlist for all-age fanfic that is fine for minors. WC 2k

The constant photoflash burns into your retinas obnoxiously, and you’re not even the subject of the paparazzi.

Captain America is alive—all thanks to you—though he could easily have been six-feet under by now. The mysterious infection was so bad and spread so far, the drug regimen you administered constitutes one of the Avengers’ biggest Hail Marys to date, but it’s working. That’s all that matters…to the world. Behind the scenes is a different story.

As Captain Rogers turns to the next hand he must shake, his sharp blue eyes find you, twinged with a familiar fear.

This stupid event scheduled by Stark to boost morale, to show Cap is just fine and back in fighting form, has gone on too long. It’s happening again.

You worried Rogers might not make it when suddenly Stark showed up hours earlier than the initial, planned press conference—because, of course, there’s meet-and-greets, quick interviews, and these damn handshakes. He’s only gone so long between treatments for the last week.

You nod at Cap and make your way in the small crowd back to Stark. You tell him you’ll need a room, somewhere private to put in the IV, and at least thirty minutes to administer the huge dose. Rogers’s super-metabolism makes it necessary to use approximately forty times the prescription average for antibiotics and steroids. In theory, the side effects are well worth his speedy recovery.

Well, the only side effect.

Stark looks horrendously annoyed. “Can’t you just shoot him up with it and be done?” He doesn’t need your lecture repeated though. “Fine, there’s a greenroom thing over there, but you’ve got fifteen minutes at most, you hear me?”

“Twenty-five, Mr. Stark. He’s not a water balloon.”

“Twenty or he can wheel the damn thing around with him.”

You gulp in nervousness, but the problem isn’t Stark’s attitude. Rogers isn’t going to like rushing this. He feels shame enough already.

“I’ll make it work,” you assure the stubborn playboy. If he only knew…

“Good. A team player. We value that here.”

You have no fucking idea how ironic that is, you scream internally, but you follow him to a door off a back hallway, a room that shares a wall with the space all those people are gathered, and thank Stark.

“Oh good, he’s heard the dog-whistle of treat time,” Tony quips, and you swivel to see Cap trailing behind you.

He’s already made his excuses to step away, too. It must be bad.

You’re sure to pull out your props of a saline drip and tubing from your bag while Tony can still see, but you drop the act the instant the door clicks shut.

Cap take one step forward to flip the lock, immediately unzipping the fly of his iconic leather suit.

See, the only side effect of the drugs is Rogers gets hard, often, and can’t find relief from his efforts alone. Through trial-and-error, the clear solution has been help—discretely—from the only medical professional allowed around him until his condition improved.

Of course, he fought it. Of course, you wanted to preserve his dignity. Of course, you tried to keep it as perfunctory, methodical, and uninspired as possible, but the thing is, that didn’t last.

The more distant and cold the experience, the faster he became desperate and wanting again, and now you have just twenty minutes to make sure Captain America can hold out for hours.

Steve, you remind yourself. He prefers you not use respectful address when engaging is what he deems entirely disrespectful behavior. 

You need to get him off in essentially no time at all, so you’ve decided: go big or go home.

Bag tossed to the floor, you unbutton your pants and shimmy out of everything from shoes to panties, letting the longer tail of your dress shirt barely cover your modesty.

Steve looks dumbfounded. It’s bad enough he has to run to you for a handy every few hours, but this?

“Doc, no,” he breaths.

“I understand the procedure,” you say calmly, echoing his harrowing consent from that first night he needed you.

Steve’s brow furrows in strain. “We shouldn’t…”

‘We’ are way past ‘shouldn’t,’ buddy.

“Can’t ask you to…“ but he also knows time’s a wasting.

He’s already fisting himself, struggling to be the gentleman he never stopped being, which at the moment is a huge problem because both of you need to get through the day—you without losing your job and him without popping a boner on national television.

It’s your job to break him and break him right now.

“Goddamnit, will you just fucking let me do this for you?”

There’s a flat smack on the door.

“Do whatever the lady wants and then get back out here,” Tony yells from the other side. “Put us all out of our misery,” he ends with a grumble.

That is by far the most helpful thing Stark has said in the last week, so you mouth “see” and begin undoing your blouse from the bottom, giving Steve his first peek of you. His hand speeds along his length, adam’s apple bobbing in concentration.

“Here, I’ll make it easy for you,” you whisper. You walk to the far corner of the room, put your hands up, shirt rising over your bare ass, and face the wall. Your voice is soothing, pleading even. “Just take what you need.”

In some ways, you feel responsible for his predicament. You are the prescribing doctor, he isn’t in a relationship where a partner could assist, and he insists no one else know. He doesn’t deserve to be poked and prodded more than necessary, and you can’t give him any other meds in combination. None of it is his fault same as none of it is yours. You only intended to heal him.

Truthfully though, none of this is just about his release anymore, much as you’d like to dismiss your feelings.

You can’t deny, however, that each time the air gets a little thicker with tension, the body language a little more intimate. Steve has kept his eyes open, clutched your free hand to his chest, rolled his hips open, and thrust up into your fist. The greater the satisfaction of his climax, the longer he retains control.

“When this is over…I swear,” he grits out, getting closer word by word until his deep voice is right by your ear.

He tugs your shirt up to dip his fingers between your legs. “Been smelling you for two days. Can’t do anything until—” Steve growls, feeling how slick you’ve become in anticipation “—you’re ready for me.” 

His concern washes away when two fingers easily breech you to the knuckle and are immediately replaced by the blunt head of his cock dragging between your folds.

You didn’t expect him to give in so fast. You didn’t expect him to have known this aroused you. The idea he might want to continue, to go further, races down your spine, following the opposite path of Steve leaning into you. His forehead presses your occipital as yours presses the wall. The heat of him makes you arch in luxurious proximity.

Steve fucking forward to enter you in one smooth motion makes you forget to be quiet, but before the whole shout of ecstasy escapes, his hand covers your mouth.

“Shhh, Doc,” he breathes at the base of your neck. “Be good for me.”

That only gets you moaning into the seam of his gloves.

His hips start a staccato rhythm, a second of loud friction for each second of silent, fulfilling pressure.

Steve slips his still wet fingers under your shirt and beneath the cup of your bra to swirl a smooth pattern over your nipple. Instead of voicing your approval, you shove yourself back into him faster.

You notice the muffled chatting of Tony and someone else outside while your eyes roll. The slap of your skin against the Cap suit becomes the loudest thing in the room, but that’s not what Steve minds.

He pulls out and spins you around, pausing to see the cream you’ve created at the base of him drip to the carpet below.

Deep sea eyes meet yours through golden lashes.

“If I can’t hear you…” Steve hoists you up to his waist, threading one arm through the bend in your knee, spreading you wide and diving in swiftly.

Your body curls forward automatically to grasp at him and smother yourself in the leather of his shoulder pad. This pace is much faster, purposeful, utterly unravelling you. The position delivers more range of motion, all of the buildup and less of the noise, with the added benefit of his tool belt nudging your clit repeatedly.

Tony pounds on the door. “‘Bout done in there, guys? Let’s go.” How apt, the unknowing jester.

Steve pants, open-mouthed, against your temple.

You smile but can’t stop your own ruin.

A groan gets buried in your disheveled hair. “Are you…close?” His hips snap brutally. “Are you—“ he sounds wrecked “—you gonna…come on my—uungh.”

You tip over the edge, clutching him tight and fluttering for him in every way. The detonation of your orgasm burns red behind your eyelids like camera flashes, a dirty snapshot for you alone.

“Mercy,” Steve begs, gripping your ass to rut into you, desperate to join. His neck tenses as he spills inside you, pulse throbbing in time with his cock. 

He leans against you and the wall, his steady weight stilling your shaky legs. Slowly, your feet are guided to the floor and Steve steps away to wipe away any evidence of his ‘therapeutic treatment.’ His breathing settles much faster than yours, and by the time he’s tucked back in with his suit righted, you’re simply sliding down the wall to catch up.

He hurries over to the small vanity and mini fridge—usually ‘guests’ for speaking (or interrogating) wait here—to bring you supplies.

A box of tissues is set by your side.

“So…” he hands you a bottle of water “…maybe…dinner tonight?” 

You set the water down in favor of cleaning yourself, glancing up to offer a reassuring dismissal. “This morning was your last dose,” you remind him. “It should be over soon.”

Steve may not need this anymore, may never need you again, but he doesn’t miss a single beat.

“I’d like—I want to take you some place nice, but…” He chugs his whole water then quickly unclasps the glove on his left hand, rolling up his sleeve, veins jumping over a thick forearm.

“I don’t know what food you enjoy.”

Arguably, he knows a few other things that you enjoy.

There’s another impatient bang at the door.

“I—“ Your heart soars with the soft sincerity of his face, no trace of fear left behind, no hesitation. “I’m gonna need a minute.”

Steve stands, smoothing a hand over his hair. “I’ll lock it behind me…and, um, thank you, Doc.”

It’s the first time he hasn’t apologized this whole week.

“You’re welcome, sir.”

Steve flashes you a dopey smile and shakes his head. “See you out there,” he chuckles.

You can’t be seen when the door opens just enough for Steve to step out, but he makes a show of rolling the suit’s sleeve back down like he really did have an IV infusion, selling the lie like a pro. He keeps Tony talking while shutting you back into your debauched bubble.

Through the wall, you still hear “could you have gone any slower?” followed by a curt, “yes,” and have to stifle a laugh.

“What’d you do, blow a vein?”

You’re picturing an incredibly ironic look on Captain Rogers’ face.

“Just be grateful she puts up with us, Tony…” and their voices disappear down the hall.

His treatment may be finished, but Steve wants you to stick around. He wants you.

Would having dinner with that man really be so terrible? No. Not at all. Even the ‘worst’ of this situation has been a great fucking experience. You don’t want to give that up yet.

It seems you’re both addicted now.

[Main Masterlist; Steve Rogers One-Shots; Ko-Fi]

[syrenqin]

Love and Deepspace, Ft. Assorted Kinks➶-͙˚ ༘✶

>>>>>>>>>>>>> smut, mdni! >>> f!MC

➸ caleb

praise kink: okay so he gets off of being praised, like tell him he's the only one in the world who can satisfy you. Tell him he's the only one you need, and he'll show you just how well he can pound you.

lingerie kink: something about sneaking into the lingerie stores of the girl he's loved since childhood, the shedding of innocence and seeing you as an adult for the first time.

dacryphilia: I believe he has a savior complex. Seeing you cry and call out his name to save you would turn him on 100%.

powerplay: he's the colonel ffs he def gets off having authority and would love to display it in bed, having you at his mercy. The two of you get mutually turned on by this.

golden shower: The dawg in him will pee on you to mark his territory, especially after he sees literally any MALE interact with you, he'd feel the need to drown you in his piss and show you who you belong to.

➸ sylus

cockwarming: sylus is someone who needs external stimuli while working, since he tends to work all day. What is a better stimulus than your warm walls hugging his lonely cock as he types away on his laptop, or attends calls with his dealers, or cleans his guns...

body worship: will 10/10 be bowing down to every inch of your body. No matter how insecure you are, HE can't BELIEVE that all of you belongs to him AND he's allowed to touch it. Expect a lusty compliment every 10 minutes, sex or no sex.

sensory deprivation: canoncially believes that switching off one sense heightens the other so.... expect a lot of blindfolds and other innovations he might come up with to please you to the fullest

motorcycle sex: some days he wants to ride his motorcycle, some days he wants you to ride him, atop the motorcycle sfhsfk. he'd take you out on a ride to see the nightlights and you'd find a spot dark enough to climb on top of him and ride out the adrenaline rush.

size kink: big fat dragon cock, you'll definitely need to be trained to take in. It will take a few sessions but Sylus is more than patient.

➸ xavier

roleplay: I think specifically like... he wants to roleplay as hunters who bang bang after killing off a particularly difficult bunch of wanderers after a perfect display of teamwork? I can see it as something he'd want to do in real life but can't so he makes up this scenario in bed.

consensual somnophilia: he sleeps so much, he gives you the permission to play with him even when he's asleep. He'd often, to his delight, wake up to you sucking him off as he giggles drowsily

groping: possessive kitty, will grope you in public if anyone even looks at you. He'd grope your ass anyway frequently but he'd bolden up and grope your boobs too.

anal: ... he loves your other cavities but the shitter is his favorite place to nest.. something about the deviation from the norm and the chance to plug in 3 fingers into your pussy while he fucks your ass really gets him off.

also, golden shower: would def pee on you too. Wants you to swallow it mostly. Does it more than caleb, and not to mark his territory - he just likes peeing on you. Love when the sound of the trickle bounces off your tits.

➸ rafayel

waxplay: well melt some candles with his evol and pour it over you. It really resembles his cum. Spreads it around your body to guage your reaction.

neon paint play: Loves having sex in the dark but also wants to see the shape of you properly. Paints your curves with neon paint as he watches you illuminated breasts marked with glowing Xs bounce around in the dark as he thrusts into you.

underwater sex: again, he loves watching the flabs of your body, especially your breasts and ass bounce in the water when he pounds into you. He also feels this is his natural habitat and the most natural way for him to make love to you.

also roleplay: he'd love to play the hostage with you as the capturer, sorry not sorry.

foot fetish: hear me out, him licking your toes and rubbing up wet strips up your sole and kissing your heels. He wishes your feet were a tail but they aren't so he shows his admiration for you by lathering up your legs.

➸ zayne

bondage: he likes it when you take away his ability to move. He's the one the likes to be bound up so he can frown and snarl at you while you have his way with him. Closeted sub boy.

nipple play: loves loves lovessss suckling on your nipples like a baby. Wants to have you boobs constantly in his mouth, rent free. Will especially need a nip session post a tiring work day.

car sex: He has an AUDI for a reason and it's not mileage or performance. It's to make it reek with the smell of sex after you and him go multiple rounds atop the expensive leather of the back seats. He makes sure your head never hits the car interior

face sitting: Sit on him, sit, put all your weight on the wicked curve of his nose. Don't just hover over his face, plant yourself DOWN. He will give you the best head of your life while his angry cock slaps itself on his abdomen, waiting for its turn.

breeding kink: Dr. Zayne wants to knock you up so bad but you aren't ready yet. So whenever you decide to be on birth control, he will absolutely fill you up with his seed and watch it pool inside you, guaging your fucked out expression and dreaming of the pretty babies you will make in the future.

[excusemyobsessions]

Come on, breathe with me.

Sylus x MC/You

Scenario; Sylus helps you calm down a panic attack, fluff, comfort Word count: 740 words

Warning: description of panic attack, use of pet names (sweetie, kitten)

You couldn't breathe.

Panic gripped at your chest so tight, it squeezed out the air inside your lungs.

In your mind, you kept telling yourself it was okay over and over again, like a mantra.

You kept trying to remind yourself of your own grounding techniques, the ones that would work every time you were alone.

But you weren't by yourself this time. You craved Sylus' touch, craved his voice like you had never craved it before. All you wanted was to see him, have him tell you it was okay.

You were shaking heavily as your legs carried you towards his office where you found the door slightly open, the gentle melody of a vinyl record drifting out of the room.

Usually, you'd rap your knuckles against the door before you entered but there was just this tightness in your chest, an inexplicable urgency.

When you burst into the room, Sylus' eyes lifted from the stack of documents he was holding to meet yours.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" he questioned, instantly standing up.

The stack of documents he was analysing was instantly discarded onto his desk and in a few quick strides he was standing right in front of you, catching your hand which reached out for him within his gentle fingers.

As you told him what had triggered you to the best of your abilities, tears started flowing down your cheeks heavily, blurring your vision and making it hard for you to focus on the crimson eyes which gazed back at you attentively.

He listened to you closely, low encouraging hums rumbling from his chest, a big hand cradling your chin, the pad of his thumb wiping away the heavy tears as they kept falling from your eye.

"Oh, kitten," he cooed and even through the tears you could see his eyes soften.

Their usual cold crimson was warm, a vermillion ocean, so deep and tender.

You squeezed his hand and he let you, without a flinch, his thumb tracing over your knuckles back and forth at a slow, mindful pace.

"It's okay. You're okay," he reassured you in a low tone.

You sobbed and choked all at the same time, the emotions flooding you far too great.

"I c-can't breathe," you told him miserably, gripping onto him like a lifeline.

"Yes, you can. Come on, kitten, breathe with me."

The steadiness in his deep voice was soothing and you felt it in your racing heart.

"Come on, breathe in," and he did it with you, taking in a deep breath at the same time you attempted to.

When you shook your head, assaulted by another wave of sobs, he kept catching your tears, squeezing your hand in his.

"Shhh, it's okay. You're safe," he told you, gentle and firm. "There's no rush, take your time."

You wanted to close your eyes and focus on the slow stroking of his thumb over your knuckles but you were terrified he'd slip through your fingers if you did.

"I'm not going anywhere," he assured you, as if he could read your thoughts.

Sometimes you were thankful for his ability to predict just what was going through your head, through your heart.

"Come on, breathe with me."

Sylus wasn't demanding but his tone was firm, always steady, like an anchor.

"Deep breath in, can you do that with me?"

And you did, shakily so, along with him.

"That’s it, good. Now out, slowly."

And you let out the air trapped inside your lungs, feeling his warm breath against your wet cheeks as he breathed out along with you.

"Come on, you can do it again. Deep breath in."

And he kept coaxing mindful breaths out of you, his hands never leaving you, eyes locked onto yours the whole time.

When you were finally able to breathe on your own, he reached back for the box tissues on his desk, plucking a few out. Always keeping a point of contact, with his hand still within yours.

"My sweet little kitten," he cooed, turning towards you again.

With a gentle touch, he helped you clean the remains of tears and snot off your face.

"How about we go get you some snacks and huddle up on the couch? We can watch that movie you mentioned?" he offered, thin lips curved by a small, gentle smile.

"What about your work?" you questioned, already being led out of his office.

"It can wait." He shrugged.

[criminalamnesia]

idk just thinking about starting a thing with Jack after the two of you have been dancing around it for a while— stolen glances, lingering touches, slipping snacks into pockets and working so seamlessly together.

it’s not something you two have labeled yet, but everyone in the ED knows because god you two are so obvious and insufferably in love with one another.

but you want to take things slow, and Jack obliges because you’re more vulnerable in this position than he is (you’re his resident and he’s an attending) (and it’s actually killing him to take things slow but he does it for you).

you’re off on the day of pitt fest and so is jack but you know he just had a hellish night shift so you tell him to rest up and that you’ll see him tomorrow night when you both work again.

your friend surprises you with a plus-one ticket to pitt fest— and you hesitate but ultimately end up going, knowing that the exhaustion you’ll feel tomorrow will be worth it, even if you’re gonna need an extra energy drink or three to get through your shift.

you don’t tell jack. why would you? it’s last minute and you’re giddy and he’s off— probably sleeping, you assume— and you don’t want to bother him because this is new and you’re not his girlfriend.

then the worst happens. someone opens fire. you lose your friend in the ensuing chaos and you’re terrified, but you snap into resident mode and start trying to help. holding pressure on a wound here, checking a pulse on a body there, dodging and weaving through the masses as you try to save anyone you can.

everyone gets called into the ED. so when jack strides into the department, mind already racing in preparation of the madness to come, his eyebrows lift when he doesn’t spot you among the team briefing.

he asks dana if she’s heard from you, and the charge nurse shakes her head. “I’ll keep tryin’,” she tells him. he accepts that and moves forward.

he doesn’t have any reason to worry. you said you would see him tomorrow. he figured you were probably in bed already and your phone was on silent. no big deal. as much as he would love your expertise (and general calming, reassuring presence) in this scenario, he can push through. he did before you.

dana stays true to her word and calls you ten times in the span of two minutes, but it goes unbeknownst to you, as your phone is currently face down in a puddle of someone else’s blood. you were too busy worrying about others to even notice it had fallen out of your pocket.

when the variety of vehicles start rolling up to the ED, everyone is too busy saving lives to worry about who didn’t show up to help. no one cares about your absence.

and then ellis opens up a truck’s tailgate, and she pulls out a body— and when she gets it on the gurney, she looks at the face to quickly assess for head injuries and her heart nearly stops in her chest.

it’s you.

blood smattered on your face, a large gash running from your forehead to your cheek. your eyelids flutter, your breathing is shallow and coming in quick pants.

“shen!” ellis screams, and the attending rushes over, eyebrows furrowed before his gaze lands on you.

“shit,” he breathes, looking to ellis before back down at you.

along with an obviously broken leg and numerous cuts and already-blooming bruises, you’ve been shot. blood flows from a wound in your gut, and your hands twitch as they move towards it, trying to keep pressure on it.

“red, she’s a red—” ellis is saying, slapping a bracelet on you and commandeering your gurney. she rushes towards the doors, eyes wild as she enters the ER and looks for someone— anyone— that can help.

“robby!” she yells across the madness when she spots the attending. he’s finishing up with a patient and getting ready to move to another, but his head jerks up at the sound of his name.

“need you over here!” ellis calls, and robby’s brows furrow as he looks over his shoulder to say something to jack— fuck, jack— before he’s weaving towards her.

“what is it?” robby asks, eyes instantly going to the card tied around your wrist.

“it’s fucking y/n.”

and robby’s eyes dart up so fast he almost gets whiplash. he instantly recognizes you and he curses under his breath, anxiety clawing up from his gut and encircling his heart. beginning to squeeze as your eyes crack open and your chest heaves.

“don’t…” you gasp out, one of your hands blindly reaching for the attending. “let…him see.” each word comes painful and slow, and you don’t even notice that other faces have gathered around you as you speak.

your friends— your family— all gasp and cry and furiously begin to come to your aid but you don’t even realize it. because your eyes are locked on robby’s.

“you….need….him.”

and you don’t even have to say who you’re talking about, because everyone in the fucking PTMC knows that you and jack abbot are a thing. and robby exhales shakily, tears filling his eyes, but he has a job to do. and so he gets to work.

and he knows for a fact that he will lose someone tonight, regardless of you living or dying.

either way, he doesn’t know if jack will forgive him for this. for purposefully hiding your arrival and trying to save your life without him.

as much as it pains him at the thought, he knows that he has to do what’s best for the department. for the other hundred people that are coming through the doors tonight.

so he nods to himself. tells himself he’s doing the right thing.

and then he loses your pulse.

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference] with a s/o with a mental issues pt.2 (the big sad)

Requests with sensitive themes are reposted with names that hint at the topic but aren’t explicit, to avoid censorship. On another note, I’m taking advantage of this post to promote myself and let you know I’m working on a mini-series of Arcane posters. Right below the "read more" line, you’ll find the link to two drawings and my other socials if you’d like to follow me elsewhere! Enjoy!

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky |

poster: | Jayce poster | | Silco poster | | Steb poster |

Jayce:

- The panic man, but not in this scenario.  

- He usually notices a crisis brewing before it’s too late, and when he picks up on the signs, he intervenes immediately.  

- He’ll take you out for a walk to get some fresh air, clean the house thoroughly, and make sure to open the windows to keep everything well-ventilated.  

- Breakfast? In bed. Lunch? Strategically either at your favorite spots or something he cooks himself—things he knows you can’t resist.  

- If the crisis worsens, he’ll help you with dressing, making the bed, and even brushing your teeth if necessary, without making you feel bad about it.  

- He refuses to let you languish and is convinced that fresh air, a refreshed you, and clean, fragrant clothes will help you feel better much faster.  

- Get ready for some storytelling from any fairytale book he can get his hands on.  

Viktor:  

- He completely understands what you’re going through and notices it fairly quickly.  

- Viktor will be the first to personally help you while also suggesting someone who could support you—not because you’re a burden but because he genuinely wants you to feel better.  

- There’s no shame in asking for a little help.  

- Whether you’re up for it or not, he won’t push you, but he’ll try to stay as close as possible.  

- He insists on boundaries, though. Not hungry? At least two full meals a day.  

- Struggling with hygiene? He’ll buy you wipes, and if needed, he’ll assist you with washing.  

- He doesn’t want you to neglect your tasks, self-care, or well-being for fear that it might worsen the crisis or weaken you over time.  

- If you don’t want to go out, it means you’ll watch a series together—or maybe two. He’ll work on his projects at night, but you’ll never know about it.  

Ekko:  

- Ekko notices it less quickly than the others, not because he’s emotionally clueless but because in Zaun, feeling unwell is both common and a part of daily life.  

- He’ll pick up on it when you become less communicative, when he doesn’t see you around, and when he finds you lying in bed all the time.  

- He’s the least likely to push you. Don’t feel like eating? He’ll bring a plate along with some treats he’s managed to scavenge and leave them in your room so that if you change your mind, you won’t have to get up.  

- Really hungry? He’ll cook for you personally before you even ask, as soon as your stomach growls.  

- Can’t bring yourself to wash? You’ll do it when you feel better—there’s no rush, no pressure. No matter how messy your room gets or how much you stay confined to that tiny space, he won’t make you feel bad about it. He’ll ask if you want to take a walk, visit the kids, or suggest plans to stimulate you.  

Vander:  

- The man who managed the entire Undercity, four criminal kids, the mines of Zaun, and the enforcers doesn’t back down from this challenge either.  

- His approach is to never leave you alone.  

- In the morning, he’ll dress you, comb your hair, and carry you to the bar. If he has to visit Benzo or go elsewhere, he won’t leave you alone for even five minutes.  

- His reasoning isn’t fear that you’ll get worse but rather the belief that having stimulation without exhausting yourself will help distract you a bit.  

- If possible, he’ll take you to the bridge, maybe for a picnic.  

- You’ll always have a smoothie to drink so that, even if you don’t feel like eating, you can still get nutrients. At the same time, there will always be a plate of food on the table.  

- Breakfast? Wherever you want. The other meals? In the living room or at the Last Drop, so the air in your room can be refreshed.  

Silco:

- Before you even realize you’re having a crisis, he’ll leave some pills on your bedside table with a note explaining how to take them.  

- His goons—at least the younger ones—are almost like his children, so he’s used to this kind of situation and already has everything prepared.  

- If you lock yourself in your room, he’ll respect that; you need your space. But if it goes on for too long, he’ll feel compelled to intervene, if only to make sure you’re not wasting away.  

- He’ll ask Sevika to take care of you when he can’t—though she won’t be thrilled about it. Still, the kingpin doesn’t want you to feel neglected or entrust you to someone unreliable or incompetent.  

- He’ll adjust his work schedule to spend more time with you, though his requests will often feel more like polite orders.  

- In Zaun, there aren’t good doctors to turn to, so if the choice is between letting you get a rash, an infection, or washing you himself, he won’t think twice about doing it.  

- On the other side, he becomes much more affectionate. He’ll have you sit on his lap while he’s in his office and keep physical contact constant when you’re together, so you always know he’s there for you.  

Jinx:  

- “You’ve got the Big Sad,” as she calls it, speaking as someone with plenty of problems and few diagnoses.  

- Her approach is also a way of exorcising the illness, making it less scary.  

- Her main method of helping is cleaning and decorating her lair to make it brighter and more colorful, with cheerful music playing in the background and colorful lights stolen from Piltover.  

- If you feel up to going out, she’ll take you to Piltover, where the air is cleaner, there’s more sunlight, and you can soak up some oxygen and vitamin D. If not, she’ll steal anything she can—fruit, toys—so you have something to engage with.  

- When it comes to meals, she’s not great at managing herself. She often forgets to eat, and it’s her father who forces her to have complete meals. As a result, most of the edible things she’ll bring you are cookies, chips, pizza—tasty but not necessarily nutritious.  

- The important thing is that you eat.  

- She’ll try to negotiate with her father to skip missions for a while to stay close to you or go on them at night so you won’t notice her absence.  

Vi:  

- She doesn’t catch on too early but notices just before things worsen. She becomes very protective and more careful and kind in her actions, simply to avoid upsetting you.  

- Out of personal guilt, she won’t let you know if she gets hurt, to prevent you from worrying or feeling bad about receiving help.  

- If you drop something, she’ll immediately stop whatever she’s doing and come to you. First, she’ll reassure you that it’s okay—it happens to everyone—then she’ll help you clean up the mess.  

- She doesn’t care if you don’t wash or dress yourself; coming from prison, she’s used to such things. If you want to but can’t, she’ll help. But if you don’t want to because it’s your favorite hoodie, she won’t push.  

- When it comes to eating, though, she’s more insistent. She eats a lot, and Vander raised her with the idea that eating well is necessary to feel well. She’ll negotiate to get you to eat something—at least three times a day.  

- It doesn’t matter if it’s a small amount, not very nutritious, or not a complete meal. You need energy.  

- If you crave something specific, she’ll buy it—or steal it, depending on the cost—but she’ll make sure you get it.  

Caitlyn:  

- She’ll set up the guest room for you so you can stay at her place while still having complete independence.  

- With her job keeping her busy, she can’t take full days off to be with you, so she instructs the house staff to have your meals ready at specific times, change your sheets, and clean your room to ensure you’re as comfortable as possible.  

- To make up for her absence, she brings you pastries, slices of cake, or anything else she thinks you might enjoy.  

- If she notices you’re not eating, she’ll simply sit with you and talk about how you need to eat at least a little, asking about your preferences so she can make sure you get the meals you want.  

- In the evening, she’ll take a bath with you, washing your hair and massaging your back—both to make you feel better and to ensure you go to bed completely comfortable.  

Mel:  

- She struggles to notice something’s wrong until it’s too late or you tell her outright.  

- Her work consumes so much of her time and energy that when she’s with you, she doesn’t immediately pick up on any issues.  

- Her priority is keeping you in the light, which is why she moves you into her room with large windows to let the sunlight work its magic.  

- In the mornings, she’ll prepare a coffee, a pastry from the best bakery, and a glass of water with an effervescent vitamin C tablet for you.  

- Being a woman of science, she believes in medication, but if you’re not ready to seek professional help, she’ll at least ensure you take vitamins so your body doesn’t suffer as much as your mind.  

- The deal is that you can do what you want during the day, but someone will bring you meals (and you’ll need to eat at least half), and all hygiene routines are moved to the evening so you can do them together with her help.  

- Bath, shower, teeth, skincare, hair—you do everything together while chatting (as staff change the sheets and tidy the bed so you don’t feel burdened).  

- She’ll try to skip the least important meetings to have meals or at least coffee with you, making sure you’re not left alone too much.  

- At least three times a week, she gives you small errands to run, knowing that getting outside, walking, and fresh air will do you good.  

Sevika:  

- It might not seem like it, but despite her gruff exterior, she has a very soft heart. Surrounded by people with problems, she quickly notices when something’s wrong.  

- She won’t bring it up first; instead, she’ll ask how you’re feeling, and if you hint that something’s off, her response is, “Do you want to talk about it?”  

- If you break down while talking, she’ll hold you close, not interrupting or offering opinions. She just listens, lets you vent, and gives you something to wipe your tears. It’s not coldness—she simply wants you to process the pain at your own pace.  

- She’ll mention it to Silco, at least to arrange more regular or reduced hours, ensuring you’re not left alone for too long.  

- When she returns from a mission, she always tries to bring you something nice or that reminds her of you—a vulnerable gesture she wouldn’t usually make so lightly but does willingly when you need it.  

- She’s unbothered by smells; if you don’t wash, she won’t push you. She just wants you to feel okay. At least once a week, if you can’t manage it, she’ll wash you herself to lighten your load, turning the moment into an act of care.  

- If she has to leave at night, she’ll tuck you in, whisper that she’s heading out, and leave a glass of clean, fresh water and a sweet treat on your nightstand to reassure you that she didn’t want to leave but had no choice.  

[anantaru]

⚝ DAY 6 — BLOW JOB/DEEPTHROATING

kinktober 2024. — masterlist | ao3

— including. — cyno, tighnari, sethos, kaveh

— warnings. — fem! reader, oral (male! receiving) sloppy n messy, whiny boys

⚝ — CYNO

there was nothing nicer for cyno other than having you between his spread thighs, his muscles flexing as you look up at him all cutely— parted lips shimmering of his cum and your spit, eyes glassed out.

the man suddenly laughs, oh? a breathless, rough sound so hot that you had to moan around his shaft, tipsy of feeling him press against your tongue.

repeatedly, his tip snugs between the tightness of your throat, hard enough for him to feel every swallow you took— it's almost surreal, no one could explain the emotions he was going through as he lolls his head back, jaw parted, musing your name as you glide your fingernails along his thighs, playing with him, stroking his length and suckling tight.

certainly, you cannot lie but there was a boost in your ego whenever you interrupted your even rhythm with faint traces of your tongue lapping at his shaft, just barely skimming over his swollen cock— and suddenly cyno acts as if you've never gone down on him, that pout on his lips was cute too, especially when you do it. it drives you absolutely insane.

⚝ — TIGHNARI

you know exactly what you’re doing to tighnari, and as you bob your head up and down, his voice held steady as to conceal his delirious grunts that you were so eager to hear— the lust continued as though he was gliding out of control, his fingers digging into the mattress when you decide to tighten your throat.

all the air left his lungs in a dizzy rush when you guzzle around his cock filthily, doing it on purpose of course, you see— tighnari adored hearing you slurping and smacking at the taste of him, it has his cock twitching, burning of wanting to cum between your precious lips and have the blaze in your throat taken care of.

you're sucking him off violently now, twisting your tongue over the twitching veins as his lips bend between the edge of tingling and a numb sensation— feeling him slightly shift in his seat before you take him deeper in your mouth.

you smirk, his whole body seemingly running on autopilot each time you teased him, coaxed out dreamy sounds from past his lips as you showed him that in this scenario it was you being in charge.

⚝ — SETHOS

sethos held his breath, suppressing a squirm, "you're so good— at this," he grunts, a little whine making itself hearable, "fuck, but you know that, hah, right?" and he was breathing hard and fast through his nose as your eyes meet.

you're noticing how his adams apple bobs, how longingly he glazes at your lips— the wetness of your chin and cheeks swiveling his gaze into a dark glance as sethos gave in completely, all his senses feeling blurred.

not to mention, he was big, thick and warm on your tongue, repeatedly jutting from your wet, filthy mouth as you're showing him no mercy.

you feel your own body becoming too hot, his dripping dick simply too searing for your skin, your tongue and throat. still, you smirk at him, feeling him tremble when you notice his fingers skim through your hair, encouraging you to go faster, urging you to please please suck him off so desperately hard until his mouth was fully agape and panting.

the licks of your muscle were coursing so precisely like an acrylic drawing inside a prestige exhibition— but instead of succumbing to it fully, sethos already pictures you in his mind, later of course, when it's his turn to go down on you, please your little cunt just as he pictured it in his head.

⚝ — KAVEH

kaveh rolls his eyes in pleasure, his muscles tensing in a flaring race as your hand twitches, rubbing him slowly, the briefest brush of your fingertips tensing him up as he groans, bracing himself for your warm mouth.

and when you finally open it— strings of saliva popped into two pieces before you slowly slid it inside, promptly lunging forward to taste him.

slippery and urgent— you move your head up and down as he twitches in your palm with every compress of your hold.

only then, he begins to grind his hips up, desperately fucking your hand before brushing his doused bangs off his forehead— truly, kaveh was thinking about it earlier, but now, he cannot help himself but utterly unravel in front of your eyes, laying back as he helplessly fucks his hips up to meet your strokes.

"feels s-so good, mh, you look so pretty, like this," his words are like honey to your ears as he feels your tongue crush against his length before you speed up your rhythm, pulling an almost shrill cry from his lips and archons— how much you craved seeing your boyfriend like this.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[gloomwitchwrites]

They overhear you telling the team how much you like them and want to have their babies.

ANON! The way I screamed when I first read this prompt. I love shit like this because o-m-g. I had so much fun writing our boys in this scenario. Thank you so much for sending it in!

While there are some sweeter moments, these all lean toward the steamy side but don't cross over fully into spice. But, each is left open enough that you can make up your own mind about what happens! (hehe).

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): mild language, suggestive themes, pregnancy, fluff, feelings

Word Count: 1,754k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish

John is grinning like a bloody idiot. Has been for the last few days.

He’s caught your attention, and he’s downright smug about it. Every lingering glance and gentle upturn of your mouth has his skin singing with an intensity that can only be described as a tree burning from the inside out. He’s been after you for months, doing his best to gauge your interest in him.

He thinks he has an in because just yesterday, you touched him. Not a passing touch either but a firm grasp of his upper arm. A squeeze that shot heat straight to his toes and sent blood rushing quickly to an already throbbing need.

You looked him in the eye, brow all soft, mouth puckered slightly in the most gorgeous pout. John wanted to kiss you right then.

He turns the corner, heading into the training room, only to stop dead when he hears your voice. Pausing, he backtracks, pressing himself against the wall but leaning around the corner to listen in.

“Johnny’s been sweet on you,” comes Ghost’s voice. It’s slightly teasing, and John frowns slightly. Ghost would never overstep and steal you out from under him, but he would give him or even you a hard time.

“Has he?” you reply, and it’s breathy.

At this rate, his cheeks are gonna hurt for a week from how stupidly big his grin is.

“Don’t tell us you haven’t noticed,” laughs Gaz. “Soap’s been drooling all over the floor and himself.”

You remain silent, and John would give anything to know what you look like right now or what you’re thinking.

“Do you like him?” asks Ghost.

“What?” you exclaim.

“We won’t tell. Unless you want us to,” continues Gaz. “We can tell him to back off if—”

“No. I—” There is a stretch of silence. “I like him.”

When neither Gaz nor Ghost say anything, you keep talking. “I like him. I’m interested.”

“How interested?” asks Ghost, slowly.

“I’d have his babies if he asked,” you blurt so suddenly that it even takes John by surprise.

His grin momentarily slips away, and then it comes back, raging larger than before. He is going to bottle up those words and savor them. John runs his fingers through his hair, tugging on the tips slightly as he comes to a decision.

Pushing off from the wall, he barrels around the corner, making enough noise to not startle anyone. You and Gaz both jump but Ghost remains utterly still, a passive brick of a man. But his dark eyes swivel from you to John, and he sees Ghost’s amusement behind the balaclava.

John approaches you, and it takes every ounce of willpower to keep his grin from seeming too eager. “Price is looking for you.”

“Oh,” is all you say, moving in the direction John just emerged from. He waits until you pass him to start following, but before he can, he catches Gaz’s grin and Ghost’s gentle shake of his head.

When the two of you disappear around the corner, John reaches out, grabbing your arm. He tugs you against him, then shoves open a nearby door, hauling you inside.

“Johnny,” you protest as he shuts the two of you inside.

Leaning against the door, John crosses his arms over his chest. “Heard what you said.”

“Did you?” you counter, placing your hands on your hips.

“Aye.”

“And what did I say?”

“That you wanted to have my babies.” Your face heats and John has to bite back a groan. He surges forward, trapping you against the wall. “Is that the truth? Do you want me?”

You soften in his arms, and he cannot help himself. His arms snake around your middle only to lift you onto a nearby table.

“I want you,” you whisper.

John dips his head and you greet him with your mouth. “Then let’s get to it, love.”

John Price

Price reclines in his office chair.

His mind is a mess. All thoughts of work are utterly gone. Finished. The only thing in his head is you and what you said this morning. The thing is, you don’t know that Price heard every word, that he listened as you confessed your feelings for him to the rest of the team.

Price is your superior, which means anything between the two of you cannot happen. At least, not while you’re under his command. The rest of the team said as much, and you reluctantly agreed, knowing that nothing could be done unless you or he moved out of the unit.

And Price won’t leave. Not because he wouldn’t do it for you, but because Laswell would have his head if he tried.

But the two of you can still talk. The two of you can still figure something out.

Yet it wasn’t just your interest in him that has Price’s head in knots. It’s what you said, almost absently, like you were speaking to the air and not the rest of the team.

I’d have his babies.

Fuck, he was gone when he heard that. Price walked away immediately and went to his office. Which is where he’s been the entire fucking day. When his phone rings, he refuses to answer. Everyone who has come knocking leaves when Price ignores them. He just needs to get his head on straight but he can only do that once he talks to you first.

Sighing, Price leans forward in his chair, resting his forearms on the table. A knock comes, and everything in him tenses.

He swallows. Turns his nerves to steel. "Come in."

When you enter, Price loses all thought. It isn't until the silence becomes awkward that Price clears his throat and stands. "Shut the door."

You do and then take a few more steps inside. Price isn't one for stepping around a conversation. He just needs to get this shit off his chest.

"Heard what you said this morning."

"You did?"

"I did."

You take a shaky breath. "And?"

"Did you mean it?"

'Every word," you say automatically.

Fuck. He's done for.

Price slowly sinks into his chair. He leans back casually, legs spread. Resting both hands on his thighs, Price runs them up and then back down. He taps the inside of one thigh in open invitation.

Your legs obediently move, and Price's chest tightens. As you straddle him, Price's hands come to rest on your waist.

"Show me."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle heard you wrong. He must have.

The words that just came out of your mouth simply aren’t true.

I want to have his babies.

He shakes his head, the middle of his brow furrowing slightly as he continues to listen. He hears Soap guffaw at your reply and then swear up a storm when you smack the back of his head.

“It’s not funny,” you snap.

“Oh, aye. But it is.”

“Cut her some slack, Johnny,” says Ghost teasingly. “Sergeant Garrick is a handsome man.”

You sigh in frustration. “You’re both terrible. I can’t tell you anything.”

“You just did.”

“Oh shove it, Soap,” you reply.

Kyle covers his mouth with his hand, smothering a laugh. You’ve always been feisty, and you don’t take shit from anyone, especially not from them. But this admission completely catches him off-guard.

He’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t interested. What first began as mutual respect grew into genuine friendship. Now it’s…this. Whatever this is.

But Kyle is a private person, and he’s not going to shove himself into this conversation. He’ll wait until you’re alone and the two of you can talk this out without an audience. From there, he will have the truth directly from your mouth.

And if he's being honest with himself, Kyle is fucking ace to the idea of you giving him a kid or two. Or three.

His mind swirls outward with images of what he’d do to put a baby inside you. Everything in him ramps up, burns hot until he’s aching.

“Sergeant.”

Kyle’s eyes snap open, and he momentarily sways as he rights himself.

“Captain,” he replies, clearing his throat.

Captain Price smirks and then squeezes his shoulder. “Must have been a hell of a daydream.” Price releases Kyle’s shoulder and continues on.

Privacy. Privacy with you.

That’s what Kyle needs.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Ghost is a patient man.

But right now, there is a fire beneath his skin.

It itches, radiating outward, even making his bones ache. This is not a wound. Not an injury. He didn’t take a hit. There is nothing physically wrong with him. Ghost is healthy. A solid brick wall of muscle and scars.

This impatient insistence comes from a carnal place. All the blood is rushing to a singular point, and Ghost is going fucking insane with how badly he needs to relieve it. The worst part about it is that you don’t even know. You have no idea what you’ve done, or what he heard.

I’d have his babies.

Ghost is entirely aware that the conversation you had with Soap and Gaz was private. He wasn’t meant to hear it. But he did. He did, and now he can’t stop thinking about all the things you said to them.

Which is why he’s lurking in the shadows, watching your every step, assessing when he should slide on up to you. Ghost needs you alone. He needs to talk but he also needs you in his lap.

So, when you turn the corner, Ghost slips into his namesake, grabbing you by the waist to haul you through the nearest door. Instinct kicks in, and you lash out, but Ghost is so much bigger than you, easily restraining all resistance.

"Stop moving."

"Simon."

His real name on your tongue is perfect. Pressing his face into your neck, he inhales, and you melt into him.

"What are you doing?" you ask softly.

"I heard the conversation you had with Johnny and Gaz today."

"Did you?"

"Is it true?"

Your face shifts slightly in his direction and Ghost draws back a bit. "Yes."

"Mean it?"

"Yes."

Slowly, Ghost removes his arms from around your waist. He gently guides you forward and then spins you around so that you're fully facing him. There is silence and then Ghost reaches for the front of his belt buckle. Your gaze immediately drops and then pops back up as undoes and then removes the belt with one hand.

"Willing to show me?" he asks.

Your lips part, and then you're touching him.

The fire beneath his skin becomes an inferno.

[michellesneptune]

Future spouse PAC🕊️

hi guys! as of lately, i’ve been obsessed with the idea of marriage🫠🫠. (a subtle wink wink at my boyfriend) (not the 7 house also being the house of open enemies👀, maybe that’s why it’s occupied my thoughts iykyk). devoting yourself to one person, gathering all the sureness and love one can have in order to create something much stronger than you’d ever be able to be on your own.

i’ve never done this kind of content before so make sure to tell me how you feel about it!🐚

and now. take a deep breath and relax. be mindful about it — consciously give yourself permission and time to connect with your heart. you don’t have to rush, you don’t have to be on top of your shit for a peaceful moment. pick a card that speaks to you, that you feel has something important to tell you, relax, and listen.

card number 1

i feel like you guys could be a lot like me when it comes to the idea of marriage. somewhat traditional — looking for the one and only forever love, the fairytale. i feel like you could have libra+scorpio placements and truly value your relationships, put them on a pedestal even.

i also get the feeling that you could be struggling with your self worth right now, being self conscious. let me tell you right here: YOU ARE SO HOT!! your energy lures people in, you are soft, understanding and composed. they sense that there is A LOT to you, you have so so much to offer. anyone would be LUCKY to go out with you!!

you could’ve been mistreated in the past, betrayed by a lover and that made you cautious and guarded. it’s not surprising, your heart is a precious one so there’s a lot to defend. but the right spouse will treat you like a QUEEEEN.

i feel like they will make you think “maybe all the shit i went through was worth it”. every day you will wonder how did i get so lucky, you could be a bit suspicious even. but you will open up and learn to trust, gradually. they will be genuinely interested in your thoughts, plans and opinions, i even get the feeling that making your dreams come true will be a priority to them!!

my advice to you: pour into yourself, fill your cup up. ask yourself a question: “what would make me happy with myself?” then go do that. it can be small, just do it this week. it’s your homework! my personal suggestions: go out for your favourite food, meet up with your friends, draw or paint something, go to a bookstore, read. anything that will make you more reassured in yourself and your identity. explore yourself, there’s so much to you!!

card number 2

i’m getting that you are quite a practical person, you like to get shit done. CEO girlboss stuff. you take no crap, you’re responsible and dependable, some earth placements??

but here’s your little secret: you are a big softie inside and even though YOU WILL NEVER ADMIT IT, you dream about romance. you create fake scenarios every night before you go to sleeppp. but you’re scared to pursue it, scared of being vulnerable and someone seeing your weaknesses. you put on a brave face and do what you’re expected to do.

i can sense that you’re tired. that you just want to curl up and cry in a corner, not be the strong one anymore. you dream about someone taking you into their arms, taking the responsibilities away. you are worthy even when you don’t provide everything!!!!

you are strong and fiery and i admire people like you so much. your future spouse will also be strong but they will not dare to fight with your fire. they will be in awe of what you’re capable of and even a tiny bit scared. they’ll remind you to take care of yourself and relax once in a while. i feel like they will want to have kids with you and are very family-oriented, making your home cozy, safe and beautiful. possibly healing the wounds from your childhood, giving you what has been lacking.

and if you don’t want children, i see a bunch of puppies/cats/any other pets running around!!

my advice to you: take a leap of faith!! if you’ve been invited to a date or an event, or a trip but thought about bailing because of work, deadlines blah blah blah— GO! you won’t regret it!!

card number 3

i sense aquarius energy!! independent and unique, your approach to love and relationships is equally remarkable and untraditional.

that energy is sooo attractive to potential suitors🥵. we want most what we can’t have. they all chase you but you’re unbothered, not because you’re commitment-phobic, but because you’re waiting for someone to join you on your perpetual adventure instead of try and change you to fit their mold.

you know you thrive in freedom and you know you’re one of a kind. every day with you is exciting, when they let you be yourself.

here’s the thing though: you’ve mastered your own individuality but it’s not a crime to depend on others. i know you’re smart and i know you’re talented, but there are people who will love you even on those boring days, where you just sit in silence because there’s nothing new and nothing exciting. and i think that you’ll grow to appreciate the routine!!

i feel that you and your partner will give each other lots of space to develop as individuals and indulge in your own hobbies. then you’ll talk about them and fight over who gets to tell their story first😂.

they will be loyal and an exceptional person, just like you are. but i feel like you will fall in love with something more, something deeper in them. you will recognise it in each other and never stop noticing that special thing even in your biggest chaos and storms. they will love you by keeping up with your beautiful mess.

my advice to you: don’t worry, if life has seemed boring lately. take this time to get to know yourself, maybe slow down a little. have you noticed the flowers blooming everywhere? when did you last drink your morning coffee without scrolling? when did you last clean your refrigerator? indulge in some routine

ฅ^>⩊<^ ฅ

that’s all for today my loves!! this has been really intuitive and fun for me ;)) i hope you can find something in here for yourself and i hope it can bring you some joy💕💕⭐️

till next time

Michelle~~

[allthistrashtalkmakemeitchin]

Tour

tw: cheating, vague nsfw, cigarettes

"Yea, love?"

When his phone rang, Nathaniel was balls deep in one of his fans on the tour bus. Donna called, there was this feeling in her stomach.

"Yeah, no, I'm busy darling." He rolled his eyes. In truth, he didn't know why they were dating. "I'll call you when I can."

It was safe to say the call got him out of the mood. He groaned and pulled out.

"Fuckin' hell."

"I thought you said you didn't have a girlfriend?" The girl batted her lashes, and pouted her glossy lips.

"I don't." Nathaniel scowled.

His bandmates were outside smoking when the fan took the walk of shame from their tour bus. Cassidy, the only woman, frowned and tapped the ash off her cigarette.

"Hold on, I need to take a piss."

"Don't take too long," one of them grumbled out.

While the guys piled into the tour bus Cassidy held the cigarette between her lips and pulled out her phone.

"Donna? Donna Pritchett?" She crushed her cigarette under her boot. "Yeah, I have something to tell you about Nate..."

[amaranthinespirit]

Hello! I have some thoughts for Simon x murderer wife cause I absolutely love them!!!!

Simon coming in while wife has the men in their home. It could either be a situation where he comes and both wife and soon to be dead guy panic because 1. Simon is interrupting her olan for murder and 2. The guy thinks he’s getting caught in an affair

Another option is maybe wife’s plan falls through somehow and the guy figured out she’s planning to kill humans starts fighting her off. Just then Simon comes in and ends up being the one to kill him for laying his hands in wife (I personally like this scenario better)

Ty for these snippets, we need more morally questionable/downright Immoral readers hehe

husband!simon riley interrupting your kill prev next

simon couldn't wait to come home to you. it had been a particularly long day, and he had a small inkling of suspicion that you'd have a new victim today. it gave him almost the same adrenaline rush to simply clean them that it gave you to actually kill them.

so imagine his surprise when he arrives home, a crinkle at the edge of his eyes as he approaches the front door, stepping inside to see a very much alive, and tall—not as tall as simon—guy standing in your living room.

simon instantly realizes his mistake, but so does the guy. he assumes you were taking him back to your house for a fun time, only to be interrupted by your very loving, very big husband.

the man only raises his hands in defense, thinking you got caught cheating with him. meanwhile all his attention focuses on simon, he leaves his back turned towards you.

very big mistake because you plunge the knife deep into his flesh, and the man staggers to the floor. bleeding out way to close to another rug for simon's comfort.

simon groans, kicking the man to the side as he scolds you, "what have I told ya about killin' near your rug?" he shakes his head, burly hands squeezing the flesh of your hips. "gonna have you punish ya to get it through yer head." he taps a finger against your forehead before throwing you over his shoulder. the knife slips from your hand, and leaves the man to die a very slow and painful death.

something tells me simon would probably get turned on by this at some point, and maybe fuck you over a dead body. maybe.

[juliettejwnewinesa]

Could you please do a scenario where the reader and seongje would have a child

Title: “Small Hands, Big Heart”

He never planned on having a family. Never thought he deserved one. But then you smiled at him, and a year later, your daughter held his pinky in her tiny fist and made him believe in softness.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everyone had an opinion.

“You’re really gonna raise a kid with him?” “Y/N, he gets into fights for fun.” “People don’t change just because they knock someone up.”

But what they didn’t know—what they’d never understand—is that Seong-je had changed long before the pregnancy test turned positive. He changed the moment you smiled at him like he wasn’t broken. Like his fists weren’t the only part of him that had ever mattered.

You—soft-spoken, gentle, all sunshine and warm hands—were the one person who never flinched when he came near.

And he fell. Hard.

So by the time you said, “I’m pregnant,” hands trembling, eyes wide, scared out of your mind— He didn’t run.

He knelt.

Right in front of you, hands on your hips, forehead pressed to your belly.

“You’re serious?” he asked, voice cracked.

You nodded. “I’m scared, Seong-je.”

“I’m not,” he said. “Not if it’s with you.”

You were soft through the whole pregnancy—sleepy, gentle, humming while folding tiny onesies and resting your head on his chest every night.

Seong-je was not.

He was terrifying.

He growled at anyone who got too close to your belly. Physically shoved men out of your way on crowded sidewalks. Glared down nurses and even the poor, sweet OBGYN who tried to tell you, “You might experience some pain during labor.”

“She’s not in pain,” he snapped.

“She’s going to give birth,” the doctor blinked.

“I’ll take the pain instead,” Seong-je said darkly. “She doesn’t deserve it.”

You laughed softly, rubbing his shoulder. “Baby, that’s not how biology works.”

He didn’t care.

He wanted to protect you—even from nature.

The day your daughter was born, Seong-je was quieter than you’d ever seen him.

Not angry. Not panicked.

Just quiet.

His jaw tight. Hands shaking. Sitting beside your hospital bed in a daze while you screamed through contractions. Not knowing how to help. Not knowing how to breathe.

He didn’t move until the doctor finally said, “It’s a girl.”

And then he stood. Slowly. Like in a dream.

And when they placed her in your arms, tiny and red and squirming—

You saw the moment he fell in love all over again.

She was so small.

Nothing like him. Nothing like the boy who used to throw punches harder than grown men. She was fragile and pink and soft like you. Her hair was dark. Her nose was small. Her fingers curled when he leaned over you and touched her.

And then she grabbed his pinky.

Seong-je made a sound you’d never heard from him before.

Like a breath. Like a sob.

“Can I hold her?” he asked, voice low and rough.

You nodded and gently passed her into his arms.

He looked terrified. Hands braced like she might crumble in his grip. But she didn’t.

She fit.

Like she’d always belonged there.

“Hi,” he whispered. “I’m your appa.”

She hiccuped.

And he smiled.

Smiled—big, full, crinkly-eyed and raw like his heart had finally stopped fighting.

“Y/N,” he said, looking at you. “She’s... perfect.”

“She looks like you,” you said.

“No. She looks like you. That’s why she’s beautiful.”

You cried. Just a little.

So did he.

A YEAR LATER

“Appaaaaaaa!”

The little voice echoed down the hallway, fast and giggly and growing louder by the second.

Seong-je barely looked up from where he was washing strawberries. “You’re gonna slip again.”

“No, I’m not!” came the squeal.

A second later— Thud.

You peeked around the corner.

“Baby?” you called, setting down your book. “Did she fall?”

“She’s fine,” Seong-je said, sighing like he hadn’t just dropped the bowl of strawberries and rushed into the hallway with panic in his eyes.

Your one-year-old was sitting on the floor with a dramatic pout and watery eyes.

Seong-je knelt. “Where’d it hurt?”

She pointed at her elbow.

He kissed it. “All better?”

“Better,” she sniffled, latching onto him like a koala.

You watched from the doorway, heart full, hiding your grin.

You knew this version of him was only yours.

To the rest of the world, he was still intimidating. Quiet. Brooding. Still kept a baseball bat in the trunk of his car just in case. Still glared at men who looked too long at you when you were out shopping with a baby on your hip.

But at home?

He knelt for his daughter when she fell.

He cut strawberries into heart shapes because she liked them “cuuute like mama.”

He laid with her every night until she fell asleep—one big hand cradling her tiny back.

She’d started calling him her “giant.”

And you believed her.

Because he held her like she was the whole world.

Some nights, when she was asleep and you were curled in his lap on the couch, he’d run his fingers down your spine and say:

“I was so scared I’d fuck it all up.”

“You haven’t,” you’d whisper.

“I think I love her more than I knew I could love anything.”

You’d kiss his jaw. “You’re a good father.”

And he’d whisper it back, every time:

“I wouldn’t be, if it weren’t for you.”

A FEW YEARS LATER

Your daughter stood in the middle of the park, hands on her hips, furious at a little boy who had pushed her.

“Don’t touch me!” she yelled, her voice echoing.

The boy looked stunned.

You watched from the bench, raising a brow as Seong-je sipped his iced coffee beside you.

“Your DNA’s showing,” you said dryly.

“She did good,” he replied, deadpan.

“She gets that temper from you.”

“She gets her forgiveness from you.”

The little boy apologized. Your daughter nodded and shook his hand.

Seong-je’s mouth twitched.

“She’s perfect,” he murmured.

You looked at him. “Yeah?”

He kissed your temple.

“Just like her mother.”

[stick2vamp]

.. sebatsian meets an old friend again (reader) after he was put in prison and taken by urbanshade… reader was sent to the blacksite by urbanshade but they don’t recognize sebastian (i’m in need of angst)

𝜗 ˖ ❝ why can't we laugh now, like we did then? ᵕ ♡

— in which time has flown by: you look the same, yet he looks so different. ✧

↷　 sfw 𓈒 decided to lump these two asks together cause they're similar 𓈒 angst 𓈒 sebastian backstory spoilers 𓈒 lowkey (highkey) rushed

12 years.

It's been 12 years since they took him away for good.

12 years since he died.

You knew he couldn't have done it: sure, SEBASTIAN has a bit of a smart tongue, but he would never actually harm another person. Let alone kill 9 others. Yet, the charged him for it. Yet, they sentenced him to death row. Yet, they electrocuted him to death.

And only 2 years after they killed him, did they finally realize he wasn't the murderer. 2 years after they took him from you, did they finally realize they made a mistake.

How old would he have been now? 32? No, 31: his birthday hasn't passed yet. Speaking of his birthday, you should probably celebrate for him soon.

But it's hard to celebrate when you ended up in prison yourself.

Same as your late friend, you had been falsely accused. Same as your late friend, you had been sentenced to death row. Same as your late friend, you were going to die.

You wondered: would they put you on the same chair he once sat on?

You would never find out.

A company—Urbanshade, as they called themselves—showed up within your final days. They offered a way out, a chance to live, a chance to redeem. Of course, given the awards, it was nothing short of sketchy. It would be a big risk.

You signed up, along with many others.

It didn't matter anyway. Worst case scenario, you would die either way. You had to try and live for Sebastian. To make it to his birthday, and celebrate it for him.

Suited up in diving gear, a collar-like mechanism attached to your neck, you were ready to go.

You passed door 31.

While you were expecting the dangers that came with a mission like this, you weren't expecting them to be.. well, this.

Entities whose entire body was simply a face rushed up and down the halls, mangling everything in their path. Their razor, jagged teeth could easily tear your human flesh to shreds. Shrouded squid-like entities that scream as you shine your light at them or stand too close. A deformed bull shark with its thousands of eyes pulling you, ushering you to look at it. All entities that didn't make sense, yet still existed before your very eyes—and ears.

Door after door, you awaited a threat to show up. Would the lights flicker? Would they already be off? Would a giant window be looking into the whole room?

None of those.

Instead, a vent flew open,

—and for once, you heard a humanoid voice.

The thing—person, you reminded yourself—in the vent was not human, though. His voice did not belong to... his appearance.

His skin was a grey-blue color, matching the color of a fish more than a human. He had hair, though, and front-facing eyes. Predators eyes always faced forward, didn't they?

The.. being looked up from his tail, glowing cyan eyes scanning over your figure. He suddenly fell silent, loosing whatever words were on his tongue—well, if he had a tongue.

A look of recognition flashed in his eyes as if he had found something familiar within you. Admittedly, you found his voice fairly familiar yourself.

His tail lowered, no longer flaunting the items on display.

Eventually, he spoke up.

"[Reader]?" His name escaped his mouth (which, you now realized he did in fact have a tongue) as an almost hushed whisper. He hesitated, his mouth staying open for a few seconds more as if about to say something else before it slowly closed. He continues to stare, stare and fall silent once more.

The way he said your name was a tone that screamed yearning.

And it pulled at your heartstrings.

The way he said your name as if he had known you for his whole life, made you pause for a second.

He knew you—or, at least thought he did—but you didn't know him.

"I'm sorry," you started, speaking before you could realize just how wrong you were, "But, do we know each other?"

He blinked.

You learned his name was Sebastian—and you figured that was probably why he seemed a bit familiar to you. He reminded you of your friend, of course. Same name, similar voice, snappy tongue.. It's as if you were looking at a reflection of your late friend.

Sebastian let you stay for a bit and buy from him, occasionally making small talk. You were amazed by how low the prices were. Only 30 for one battery? You were sure it'd be something like 75 instead!

As you picked up yet another battery, he spoke to you. "Wise choice to stock up on those. There aren't very many of them down here."

"Really? I've found quite a few," You mumbled as you stuffed it into your pocket, simultaneously taking out some research and placing it on the table.

"Of course you did," Sebastian mused, grumbling slightly. He fiddled with his claws, glancing away from you.

You paused, "What's that supposed to mean?" You casted a narrowed glance over to him.

"Nothing, nothing."

Of course he couldn't expect you to recognize him. Not when they had turned him into a monster. Mutated him until nothing but his voice was slightly recognizable. Even then, years of smoking and being stuck here made his voice more gravelly than it used to be.

Sebastian knew this, but it still stung when you looked away from him without any indication you knew who he was.

Nothing was left between the two of you anymore.

But his heart, bruised and bleeding, still wished for you.

Maybe that's why he gave discounts to you. Maybe that's why he contained his snappy tongue for once. Maybe that's why he casted you an almost desperate look when you told me you were going.

And maybe that's why he wished he reached out for you—but he didn't. He let you crawl back through that went. Sebastian let you leave him just as he left you.

So when you met him again, in the dimly dark room where he slid you a file,

—maybe that's why he vowed to make sure you make it to celebrate his birthday with him.