#bloodhounds x gn!reader

[lala-lolly]

Omg im the person who recommended the blood hound writing for fun woo so sorry I didn’t read your response properly!!! :((( hmm preferably gn reader and best friends??? If that’s okay thank youuuu 😭😭😭

Lol it's fine! I'm done working on it. Let me know if you like it or want me to try something different. Hope you enjoy!

Argument with Geonwoo as his best friend

Keep dreaming~~💚💙

~ Lala-Lolly 🌆☁️🍭

[parkersgarage]

here always

kim gunwoo x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned) 437 words

warnings: gunwoo breaks down in front of you

When Gunwoo walked into your apartment, you felt the pressure he carried with him. You’d noticed it immediately, his sunken eyes, the drop of his shoulders, yet the moment he saw you, a smile came to his face.

“I missed you.” He whispers under his breath, finding solitude in the warmth of your hold. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

His shoulders are still tense, and you try to help him relax by rubbing them. “Where would I go?” He mumbles a quiet ‘I don’t know.’ Sighing at the feeling of your fingers brushing through his hair.

Gunwoo pleads quietly when you pull away slightly, begging you not to let go even though you’d still held him. “Don’t, don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Gunwoo.” You said, panicking when he’d tightened his grip on you. “What happened to you, honey?” You asked, heart breaking the moment tears fell from his eyes. He shakes his head, dismissing it gently. “Don’t carry all this with you, Gunwoo. People… we aren’t meant to handle these things alone.” His shoulders shake as he sobs, fear instilled by his behavior. “I’m here, okay? I’m always here, so please let me help you.”

“I was so worried they’d find out about you,” he says between sobs, hands clutching your shirt tightly, the fabric wadded between his fists. “I was so worried they’d hurt you. Mom already got hurt, I couldn’t imagine if you did too.”

Your mouth falls open. You’d had so many words prepared in your mind to comfort him. You didn’t even think telling him things would be alright would suffice.

“You protected mom, you did all of this for her. And you won, gunwoo. Against all odds, you beat them.” Your hands soothe him down, rubbing his back tenderly. “You’d protect me, too. I know you would.

I’m okay, and I’m always okay if you’re with me.”

He nods. His throat had run dry with his tears, now dryly sobbing as he clung to you. It’s hard seeing him like this. When he’d just been smiling with you a few months ago, it always surprised you how fast someone could change.

“I love you, Kim Gunwoo.” You whisper, pressing chaste kisses to his cheek. “I’ll always love you, Kim Gunwoo.” He nods hastily, whispering it back to you repeatedly. “You’ve been protecting me all this time, so let me protect you now.”

He can’t respond, no matter how hard he tries to force the words out. Nothing more than broken sobs left his mouth. Gunwoo only nods, but it’s enough for you. Anything he does will always be enough for you.

[sacha-bug]

Beast of the Hunt

Bloodhound × GN! Reader | 18+ Primal/Prey NSFW Themes | 1k | Part 1/(?) *Reposted from an old blog of mine!

You had always admired Blódhundr's predatory, raw manner of hunting down their prey. Your lover was an admirable, and slightly fear-inducing, beast. So when they proposed a game, who were you to deny?

"Alright, my little kanína, are you ready?"

"Yes,"

"I'll be cutting my connection, then. You know what do to if--"

"Blódhundr?"

"... Yes?"

"I love you."

Before they could utter a word back, you pierced the wiring keeping your little headset functional-- and abandoned it exactly where you stood. It fell into a meagre pile of dead leaves, half-covered up. That wouldn't keep your hound from finding it, and you knew that. You were leaving it on purpose, as a little clue-in for when they got here.

They'd given you half an hour. Half an hour, to skitter off into the dense woodland, before they'd release... Well, themself. You were confident you'd done enough zigging and zagging to at least confuse them a little, and were now just seeking a good place to hunker down for the time being. It wasn't as though you weren't comfortable on your own, watching calmly as the deepest shades of orange in the west slowly drained out, replaced by overwhelming blue and violet shadow.

With so much time to yourself, it was easy to let your mind sweep back to Bloodhound. You were struggling to measure exactly what this game meant, to them. When they'd suggested it, they spoke so confidently-- but their hands had wrung in their lap, fingers twisting and pulling as if there was something they simply weren't disclosing. You didn't distrust them to any measure-- but some awry anxiety pulsed little shocks underneath your fingertips, and laced the thumping behind your ribs.

You weren't afraid. That wasn't what you were feeling, at all. Though you were starting to realize that maybe you held more than just admiration for your partner's hunting prowess, given the way that same awestruck feeling had you wired even now. All that plagued your mind was the way they watched. The way they stalked. Had they already found a trace of you? Your boots, printed into the moist soil. Or maybe your scent, tied loosely to one of the trees you'd climbed over on the way out here.

Or maybe they already knew. Maybe they were already closing in on you, and it was only a matter of time before they caught you. And what would they do then?

Catch you...

Grab you...

Pin you to the dirt...

Would they eat you?

Like a wild beast?

Had you truly become prey?

... Were you really just an animal, after all?

A wild flurry of beating wings rushed out from the trees behind you, ears overwhelmed by furious, strong wing flaps. You'd hardly spun around, rushed steps tangling your legs until you fell into the dirt behind you. Your eyes darted to the sky, as a large raven rose from the trees-- chest heaving.

"...Fuck."

Your imagination was getting the better of you already. It had hardly been half an hour since your last exchange with Bloodhound, and all you could think about was your inevitable loss. But that was a miserable way to think, wasn't it?

That thought ignited a warm sort of passion, deep in your core. Or had that feeling always been there? Either way, you got back to your feet-- determined to keep on. You brushed the dirt from your clothes, and continued into the dark.

Now steeled with ambition, you had to plan what you'd do when they did catch you. It may have been near impossible to escape them, but what were you going to do when they did?

You'd have to fight back, now, wouldn't you? To push them back, and get on top! Turn the hunted into the hunter! That would show them, now, wouldn't it?

Your eager planning had made your ears dull. Slow, timed steps followed closely behind yours, creeping ever closer as you wove your way around trees and bushes. When you finally heard it, your heart stopped. You'd almost stopped dead, though your better nature reminded you to keep going. If they didn't know that you knew... Maybe you could gain an upper hand.

And so you kept on, wandering as though aimless-- though every turn and every pause was an invitation to attack. If all you could do was wait for it to happen, you'd just have to prepare for when it did.

But they kept following, just far enough away. You could hear every single step of theirs behind yours, waiting in anticipation for the attack. Your fingers twitched, terribly tempted to peek back over your shoulder. The jig was up, right? Why were they taking go long?

You turned again, hooking around a thick tree that would surely obscure your visage for a few seconds.

Within moments, you could hear scratching, as though they'd clawed against the very same tree to get around it and back to you. And was that...

Growling?

Was that really your Blódhundr? Or maybe... It wasn't. Maybe, some other predator had found you, first. The only weapon you handled was a hunting knife-- a gift from Bloodhound, with a carved bone handle they'd made perfectly, to fit right into your hands.

Before you could comprehend even having to use it, you heard the beast from behind leap. Before its body could overpower yours, you turned back, getting a firm grip on broad, capable shoulders.

You'd not had time to be relieved, though, turning the two of you over so that you landed on top. Hands clamped onto your waist and hips, growling furiously when you tried to pin them down.

Soon, the two of you were flipped over once more, your fight back knocking loose the goggles and mask they wore. When they'd worked their way to the top, two large hands overwhelmed yours, stinging grip straining your hands above your head. Crazed, animal eyes stared back into yours, teeth gritting and shiny with hunger.

Their breathing came in gravelly huffs, as though they'd run a million miles at once, just to catch you. Was this still your sweet hound? The one that had always treated you with gentle hands, and steeled patience? You almost didn't recognize them now-- crazed, depraved, and hungry. When you struggled, their grip on you grew ever harsher.

"You aren't getting away from me, kanína..."

A shiver wracked up your spine, even as it lie against the cold dirt of the earth.

"I found you. You're mine."

[egglain]

Letters to Santa

Rating: E (18+) - mdni Pairing: Nanami x GN! reader Content: dickcember day 4 - sexting, at work, desire

if there’s a prompt + character you want to see next, requests are open! send an ask :)

Nanami Kento was a hard worker.

He always clocked in on time, took his lunch at the same time, left his desk right as the clock hit 5.

Which is why this could not happen.

Mouth full of rice– part of the pretty bento you had packed him that morning– he had opened his phone for the first time this shift. 3 unopened message badges lit up his screen. This was always his favourite time of day; the moment he gets to hear your thoughts, to wish you a good lunch.

On his screen, at full brightness, he opened his text app.

hi <3

[1 image attached]

hope u like :) see u soon!

Nanami Kento was a hard worker.

As in– his cock had never been harder at work.

Fuck.

Thick, strong fingers typed a speedy response as white teeth worried the inside of his cheek.

Darling.

Fuck.

***

Taking a bite of your sandwich, you couldn’t help but grin at Nanami’s curt response.

Your handsome husband was perfect in every way– attentive, thoughtful, competent. The only downside? He was uptight. As fuck.

So to swear?

And at work, nonetheless?

You wish you could see him now– even if it was just as a fly on the wall.

yes, kento? <3

You finished your sandwich, calm as ever. You could witness him squirm all day without batting an eyelash– he was so easy to tease.

Five minutes passed; you put away your lunch, settling back in your rolling chair as you scrolled mindlessly on your phone.

Your lock screen lit up with a notification from Hubby <3.

[1 image attached]

Nanami Kento– your gorgeous, composed, responsible husband– was a nasty little freak.

The photo was taken from above, angled downwards in an industrial grey bathroom stall. A spotted tie was trapped between pearly teeth, chiselled jaw working the fabric. A brown leather belt hung open, khaki pressed chinos unzipped and pushed down blonde-dusted thighs.

Look what you did.

Nanami’s veiny left hand wrapped around the shaft of a pretty cock. Blonde dusted his abdomen, trimmed neatly to frame his pale, girthy base. 

Fix this.

Now.

Those eyes bore into yours through the screen. He wouldn’t take no for an answer; not when he was like this.

As much as you wanted relief yourself, you knew better than to scurry off to a bathroom stall. Nanami Kento was like a bloodhound; he always knew when you had satisfied yourself (in his words). He did not take kindly to the idea, much preferring to have you unravel on his fingers, tongue, or cock.

This was a test, of sorts– if you could stay strong, get through the day being good, your reward would be so much sweeter than any half-assed release you got from your left hand now.

so needy <3

As much as he played the role of a put-together, dominant husband, Nanami Kento flustered so beautifully under your subtle teasing.

[0:14]

A voice note popped up on your screen. Fumbling for your earbuds and triple checking they connected, you hit play.

Through heavy breaths, soft grunts punctuated the rustling of what you presumed to be his arm– if the soft plaps were anything to go by.

aww,,, touching yourself, bby? 

at work? 

u just wanna get found

Somewhere across the city, a very red Nanami Kento fucked his fist harder.

[0:32]

This time, it was a video.

The breaths were louder. It was taken low, clearly filmed using his thighs to steady the camera. The dull, blushed head of his dick was slicked beautifully; clear precum welled up at his tip as that big hand fisted his cock. Long fingers spanned his length, stroking his many inches from base to tip. As he reached the head, strong digits squeezed, wringing out his precum and running the pad of a thumb through the mess. 

He looked utterly edible.

just like that, bby

keep goin for me

You grinned, taking a peek around your cubicle to ensure you were alone. Most of your coworkers were long gone for lunch, so there wasn’t much danger, though it was a very public space.

Still, you couldn’t help unbuttoning the top of your shirt, snapping a sneaky picture of your chest.

[sent: 1 image]

need u bby <3

waiting so good 4 u rn

You had no idea just how much you affected your composed husband.

Fuck

Dotn say that shit

A typo AND two swear words? Oh, he was fucked up.

Seconds later, it loaded.

[1 image attached]

A shaky photo, taken from above just like the first. His pretty cock stood angry against his abdomen, red from tip to base. Veins strained against his thin skin, dick so beautifully swollen. A sinful bead of his thick seed drooped heavy, mid-roll down his shaft. The ropes of his release sullied his hands, connecting those thick fingers with pearlescent strings.

You wanted to put your mouth on it.

need u so bad kento.

A beat.

Yeah? Wet at work, darling?

Naughty as fuck, sending me lewd pictures like that. What if Higuruma had seen?

I’m sure you’d like that, wouldn’t you, slut?

No touching yourself.

You’ll cum enough tonight.

banners by @strangergraphics!

[mannequinreligi0n]

Mating Season

get bred, loser

pairing: dante x reader (female anatomy, gn pronouns)

wc: 2.2k

warnings: NSFW - breeding kink, monster-fucking, blood/blood play

author’s note: i’ve been meaning to write this for so long but unfortunately i am a depressed adult with a full time job, and finding time/energy to write is difficult :’) sorry if this isn’t up to standards or there’re mistakes. enjoy, smooches.

links: ao3

Twelve missed calls, six voicemails, and twenty-three texts from Dante is what you’re greeted with upon waking up - and it’s barely noon. Scrolling through the texts, you’re met with the ramblings of a madman, pleading for you to come over, to see him, to cancel your plans for the day. With a quick shower and change of clothes, you oblige in his wanton demands and head over to the loft.

You only manage a single knock before the door swings open and Dante is dragging you inside by the sleeve of your sweater.

“Dante! The hell has gotten into-“

”No time. Don’t ask.”

He pulls you straight into his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. Throwing you over his shoulder, he launches you onto the bed with a ‘thump’, your smaller form springing on the mattress. Dante reels over you, snatching your coat off and ducking his head into the curve of your neck with a deep inhale, nose sniffing your skin like a damn bloodhound.

”You showered,” he mopes, teeth pulling at the fragile skin of your throat. You squirm under the weight of him, hands pushing at his chest to levitate some of the burden.

”Yeah, so what?’

“You weren’t supposed to - I said not to. Did you even read my texts?”

”Dante, you’re being ridiculous. Do you even hear yourself?” You lift your head up to look at him, pushing him off of you. Dante makes a sad whine, a demeaning sound coming from the devil hunter. His messy locks flop down in front of his face and he lets out a long sigh, hands pawing at the fabric of your pants.

”I’m sorry, babe. God, you don’t have any idea how hard this has been without you,” he mumbles sheepishly, eyes fixated on the faint red mark he left on your neck. His hands trembled against your legs, clearly trying to hold himself back in order to have a coherent conversation with you. “I thought I could handle this alone, but I keep thinking about last week…how warm you felt, like that pretty little hole was made just for me,” he interrupts himself with a groan, hunching over as if in pain. You reach a hand up and push back the already sweaty strands to see his face, feeling his fevered skin brush your fingertips.

”Why didn’t you call me over sooner? You know I would’ve came,” you murmur, observing his needy state with a bit of concern.

”Didn’t wanna be a bother. I thought I could handle it on my own, y’know? I always have, but with you in the picture now-“ He lurches toward your hand on him, nuzzling into it with a choked breath. “Please…please, just-….just let me-“

You pet his cheek as you think over the proposition, mouth pursed. You finally agree with a small nod, pulling your hand away.

“Is it safe?”

”I won’t hurt you. I would never,” Dante reaches for your wrists, thumbs rubbing at the pulse points. He stares at you with his best ‘puppy-dog’ look, a pout on his lips. “I’ll be good, I promise. God, please, just let me fuck you - you got a man begging here.”

You chuckle and shake your head, pulling him back to you with a mumbled ‘c’mere’. Dante wastes no time latching himself back onto you, pulling your shirt off and biting down on your shoulder with a chesty groan. His hands work at your pants as he marks up your skin, the bites hard but nothing compared to the ones you’ll receive soon enough from his fangs. Clothes gone, you writhe under him and he sits up and sheds his own clothes, sparks of red already flitting off of his skin. Blue eyes morph red and he squeezes your thigh reassuringly, throwing you a shaky smile.

”You remember the safe-word, sweetheart?”

”Ciabatta.”

“Right.”

With a quick peck to your forehead, Dante rolls out his shoulders, cracking a few joints in his spine and neck. Warm, amber light coats his bedroom and Dante’s body morphs into his devil trigger, his nine-foot form casting a daunting shadow over your bare skin. Your breathing quickens at the sight - you’ve seen his DT before, but never like this, never between your legs and teeth glistening in your direction. Sensing your fear, Dante runs a knuckle over your cheek, mindful of his claws. A low, rustling rumble echoes from his vocal chords, bending down to meet his ghastly face to yours.

”It’s still me…” he breathes out, voice altered but still holding his signature lilt. Wings cocoon your body, cradling your form as he lifts you up to dangle in front of his chest. The heat of the flames rippling over his scales threaten to scorch your delicate flesh, the heat making your sweat glands break open and perspire. Dante’s mouth opens and an orange tongue lined with bumps and grooves laps a line across your own chest, taking in the decadent taste of you. Despite your trepidations, you can’t hold in the moan that drops from your mouth, eyes fluttering closed. Transparent, tangerine saliva drips down your abdomen as his tongue roams around, stimulating nerves from your throat to your navel, bumps dragging across smooth skin.

“My mate…Mine, mine,” Dante growls out, clawed fingers pinching at your thighs as he pushes your knees to your chest, wings supporting your weight from behind and below.

”Dante, c-careful, Jesus,” you whimper out, laser-focused on his claws dangerously close to shredding your skin open. All you get in response is another resonant growl, steam pillowing off his breath. Before you can warn him again, the sandpaper tongue swipes at your hole, making you shudder and go limp against his wings, forgetting your train of thought. One thing about Dante was that on the surface, he came off as reckless, impulsive - but it couldn’t be further from the truth. He had backup plans for his backup plans, and thought out every little thing. As much as your body was sounding off alarms to scramble away from the devil, he was taking the time necessary to warm you up before indulging himself - a preliminary ‘thank you’ for being a willing victim. You look up at Dante’s face, or what used to be his face, and lock eyes with the fiery orbs glaring down at you. It was hard to tell, but you could swear that little shit was smiling down at you, knowing you’ve put two and two together. A bass of laughter shakes his form, leaning forward to bump his forehead to yours as carefully as possible.

”Told you. No harm.”

You let out a shaky breath at his smartass remark, but it’s futile to steady your breathing. Dante’s tongue pushes into your hole, pointed and flexed as it slides between your inner walls. The feeling is indescribable, and for lack of a better word: devilish. Your juices coat the length of his tongue as it assaults you repeatedly, twisting in and out while talons keep you folded upright against your squirming. Heat floods your core as your release builds upon itself, gasps and symphonic moans invading the quiet room.

Dante can’t hold his instincts back when the taste and smell of your essence is practically reducing every cell in his body into a lust-driven beast. Ejecting his tongue, his wings cradle you down to the bed, knees kissing your ears in a mating press. Your thighs quake against his scaled palms, missing the fullness of his tongue. You open your mouth to ask what he’s doing, but the words jumble into a whine of pain as his head propels to take a bite at your shoulder. Fangs puncture skin and the devil seems to purr as the crimson nectar dribbles from the bite and into his mouth. The receptors in his brain are screaming at him to bite down again and again and again til you’re a battered, bloody mess - every centimeter of flesh peeled back and consumed in the most carnal way.

Thankfully, the human conscious in him refrains and with another nibble to your neck, he withdraws and centers himself with the pulsating warmth beckoning him in. He doesn’t need to check how wet you are - he can smell it, the pheromones rippling off your sex in waves that rivaled a tsunami. A bulbed shaft stretches into your slick and your head shoots up with a scratchy yelp, pain radiating to your hips. A huff of steam leaves the devil’s nostrils, halting to save you more pain despite his needs. Dante watches your fingers go white against the bedsheets, hanging on for dear life, and you can see his wings wilt at the realization he’s letting his devil instincts get the best of him. A clawed hand grips both of small ankles to hold you in place, the other letting go to scoop up one of your hands. Scales run over the skin gingerly, your fingers curling around his thumb for security.

“Deep breaths, baby. Big, deep breaths for me,” he hums out, the mechanic whirring of his vocal chords carrying his voice past your panicked thoughts. You obey, chest rising and falling as your blurred eyes trace the flame spitting from the top of his head. Dante can feel your walls unclench around him and he takes it as a sign to keep going. It’s a slow and painful process, but inch after inch, he manages to squeeze about half of himself in before hitting your cervix.

‘Damn human anatomy,’ Dante curses internally, but makes peace with the complication, thankful enough that you're taking it like a champ. After a moment of stillness, ensuring you’re okay, he starts to move. Armored hips lurch in and out of your tight hole, hushed growls filling your ears. All you can do is lay there, pliant and accepting. Your hold on his finger tightens as your body rocks around with the thrust of his unnatural cock, his name the only coherent word you can manage while he jabs at your g-spot continuously. Dante’s teeth find their way back to your flesh, leaving bloody constellations along your legs. So consumed by the fullness of his girth, you don’t notice the ruby fluid dripping down your limbs from the bites, barely registering his tongue greedily licking you clean. Bursts of white spot your vision, core muscles tightening as your orgasm tears through you and a scream of pleasure brings tears to your eyes.

“Mine…Mine to fuck, mine to…to take…gonna look so good when you’re full of my cum…” Dante snarls against your skin, pounding his cock into the wall of your cervix with ferocity. He can’t take it anymore - he needs to come, he needs to watch it drip out of you precious cunt. Securing his hand around your ankle, Dante runts himself into your hole, gusts of wind sending goosebumps down your frame as his wings flap behind him with excitement. With a bellowing roar from him, you can feel the powerful deluge of seed swarm your body, gushing out and down your center. You feel like you’ve been hit by a semi-truck, limbs trembling and aching as you lay lifeless under him, gasping for air.

A glare of red light makes you wince, eyes straining against the light to see Dante devolve to his human form, dripping so much sweat it’s like he jumped in a pool. Dropping your ankles, he pushes himself between your legs and plants a sloppy, loving kiss on your mouth, hands threading in your hair. You kiss back weakly, shaky hands holding onto his arms. Pulling his head back, he examines you for any serious injuries, eyes conveying a battle of concern and satisfaction.

“You okay? Hurt? Was it too much? God, sorry- sorry, I-“

“Dante, I’m fine,” you let out a wavering chuckle, sitting up slightly. “That was…incredible. You were incredible.”

Dante meets your eyes again with a surprised laugh, in disbelief you’re praising him in a state like this. His fingers trail down to the bites along the outside of your thighs, vaguely recalling how your skin felt between his fangs in his primal craze. He remains plugged inside you, the intimate mixture of releases leaking between your bodies.

“Look at you…” Dante traces along a more gnarly mark in admiration, blood trickling over his finger. “How’d I get so damn lucky, huh?”

He brings his fingers to his lips and sucks off the blood, that all-too-familiar teasing gleam in his eyes as they lock on yours. A throaty moan leaves him as he swallows, fingers falling away with a string of spit. The scene goes straight down to your heat, walls closing around on him with need. Sitting all the way up, you grab his hand and playfully nip at his wrist, dilated eyes devoted to memorizing him in this moment.

“Can we go again?”

“Again?” Dante laughs, raising both eyebrows at you. “Honey, I don’t think th-“

“Please,” you pout at him, kissing along his hand til you can slip two of his fingers between your lips. Dante’s jaw goes slack, a heady breath fanning over your face as his cock twitches inside you from your plea. With a hard swallow, he nods, free hand cupping your face.

“Fiiiiine,” he sighs out, putting on a show of dramatics before a smile tugs at his lips. “Flip over for me, princess.”

[dinogoofymutated]

Hello, I love your writing!! And the Kurt taking care of an overworked lover really melted my heart 🫠💕 could I ask for a similar prompt with Logan? He's my #1 X Men man. If this ptompt is too specific no worries, feel free to make it work within your own parameters- but I live with chronic pain/illness, so maybe it could be someone with a condition that flairing up and they refuse to rest/ask for help, making things worse, and Logan finally steps in, maybe scoops them up in his big arms and lovingly forces them to take a break? Logan has such a big protective heart under all his gruffness, and I think we need to see more of it in the Fandom.

💖 Love and Bless You 💖

Wolverine/GN!Reader UGH I love this request!! I hope it's okay that i didn't write about a specific illness, but describe a general chronic pain/mobility difficulty due to it. I need to write soft logan like this more often UGH- also, I was picturing the flirty Logan from Wolverine and the X-men here. He's infected my brain and I need more versions of him like that lol. TWS: Chronic pain/illness. flareups.

If there's one thing anyone knows about Logan, it's that's he's crazy observant, especially with that sniffer of his.

Sure me might not be able to smell when you're in pain, but I 100% thing that he just -knows- when something is off. It's like a sixth sense. Like you move in a particular way or eat your "fuck I hurt" food and he's on you like a goddamn bloodhound.

It doesn't matter how much you protest, or how much you fight him on it, he's not willing to budge when it comes to letting you rest- and if he can sneak in a few extra cuddles, or more time in bed with you, it's just a perk.

    Today has been a rough day since you woke up, and you knew it would most likely get worse. 

    You were having a bit of a flare-up. Well, you say a bit, in all actuality, it was an uphill battle from here. There was just something off the moment you woke up. Your joints were stiff and painful, everyday actions became a chore, and you were hurting much more than normal. But, if there was one thing about you everyone knew, it was that you were certainly stubborn. 

    You’re in the kitchen currently, resting at the table after popping a batch of cookies in the oven. Jubilee had been begging you to make her some sweet treats, and with her coming home from a rather long mission tomorrow, you decided to surprise her. Your body’s timing was… unfortunate, but there was no stopping you now. You were exhausted after making the dough, and rolling it into balls. After you had popped them in the oven you had painstakingly walked to the fridge to put the rest of the dough inside, muscles protesting each and every step. You had collapsed into the nearest chair, leaning your head back with a sigh, which is where you are now. You let your eyes drift closed as you wait for the timer to go off, relaxing into the seat.

    “Hey~” You jump at the sound of the voice, opening your eyes to see a smirking Logan, his arms draped across the back of your chair. You let out a huff, smiling at him. 

    “Hi Logan.” You say sweetly. One of his hands reaches down to run through your hair, and you feel like a cat as you eagerly lean into the touch.

    “How are you feeling?” He asks. You hum, grimacing at the question.

    “Fine?” You respond, an unsure tilt in your voice. Logan raises an eyebrow at you.

    “Don't bullshit me, sweetheart. I know somethings off.” Logan rumbles. You make a face, sitting up from the chair as normally as you can as the timer for the cookies goes off.

    “It's just a minor flare-up. It's fine, I'm fine. I have to finish baking these cookies for tomorrow anyway, so I don't really have a choice.” You say. If he sees the way you stumble a little, he doesn’t comment on it. Logan watches as you take a moment before you open the oven, resting against the counter. You realize that you may have gotten up from the chair just a little too fast as stars spot your eyes. After a minute of rest, hyper-aware of Logan’s eyes on you, you go for it. You barely crack the oven door open before Logan grabs you by the waist.

    “Alright, that's enough.” He says. You yelp as Logan drags you away from the oven. He takes the cookies out quickly before he turns around and immediately throws you over his shoulder. Your yelp is more of a screech this time.

    “Logan! Let me go- what are you doing?!” 

    “I'm not gonna stand back and watch you do this to yourself. I'm taking you to bed.” Logan huffs. He’s already walking you out of the kitchen and into the other parts of the mansion as you hit your palms against his back, trying to convince him to put you down.

    “But- I- the cookies!” You cry out. Logan has already gotten to your door opening it as he carries you inside.

    “I got it. Now just- relax.” He says, plopping you down on the bed. The action has you a little dizzy, and Logan leans in to kiss you on the forehead before he tucks you under the covers. 

    “I'm going to go get you some water and vitamins. Stay. Here.” You don’t have time to protest before he’s gone, having shut the door behind him. You want to get up and chase after him, tell him that you don’t need any special treatment and that you were fine on your own, but you’re not sure you can really run right now- and the comfort and warmth of your bed and covers are calling you like a goddamn siren song. 

    You drift in and out of consciousness in bed until Logan is back, with a glass of water and vitamins as promised. He hands you a flintstone gummy as he sits on the bed, and you can’t help but snicker. Logan rolls his eyes, still having delivered vitamins as promised.

    “What did you do about the cookies?” You ask as Logan peels back the covers to lie in the bed with you. He pulls you close as he settles in, rubbing his hands soothingly across the parts of you he knows tend to ache the most. 

    “I put a new batch in the oven. I’ll smell them when they’re ready.” He says. You roll your eyes at him, resting your head against his chest. 

    “Thank you, you know. Not just for the cookies, but… for caring.” You whisper. He huffs a laugh, leaning down to kiss you on the lips this time.

    “You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart. Just rest.”

[maplleaf]

《 Spark 》

[Boothill (HSR) x GN! Reader]

Boothill is a leaked char, but no story spoilers. Just his general vibes from the leaked pics I saw.

Very short too lol, I'm trying to get my motivation back for the dr ratio fic

"Ouch, can't ya' be a bit gentle, Spark?"

Your brows furrowed at the remark and nickname. The sound of mechanical parts malfunctioning is heard clearly, all due to the work of your hands.

"For the last time, I'm not a fucking mechanic. You just keep on insisting I fix you up," you scoffed, but still trying your best to somehow fix his arm. "And what does Spark even mean?! I told you I don't know any of your slang."

Boothill laughed, "why don't you ask your family fellas?"

The half cyborg could see the shudder that went down your spine as you attempted to fix his robotic arm. "They'd kill me. Even touching you would make me lose my upcoming projects."

"Ya' wound me, Spark..." Boothill remarked, feigning a wound on his heart, despite him placing his hand on his right chest.

The sentiment made your roll your eyes, going back to the task at hand.

Both of you remained in a blissful silence after, your whole focus on Boothill's arm, not even realizing the pair of grey eyes staring at you under the shadow of his hat.

A small chuckle escaped his lips, 'a sight better than any dreams,' he thought. Shamelessly staring at you, leaning back against the chair and enjoying his view.

Your focused face brought him glee. The way your lips pout as another error came up in your attempt to fix his arm, the brief moment where he could see stars in your eyes, only to be shrouded in dissapointment once more as another failure struck.

He relished in your... everything. The way you agreed to help him despite knowing barely anything about his robotic parts made his heart melt, knowing that you just want to help him.

Just looking at you made him giddy inside, the thought that you're touching his arm can motivate him to fight the entire Bloodhound Family on his own.

He didn't care if he got roughed up in the fight, any losses he might've gotten in any fight is a win if it means he'll be seeing this.

Before he knew it, you noticed his gaze fixed on you. "Your sharp-ass teeth isn't making the staring comforting..."

Hearing that made the latter laugh again, taking off his hat and using it to cover his mouth, but his vision still locked onto you. "This' better, Darlin'?"

The sudden nickname made you stop in your track, Boothill's frustrating smirk hidden behind the hat. With a scoff, you grabbed his hat, throwing it right at his face before standing up from the chair.

"Fix this arm by yourself. I'm heading back to the Golden Hour," you spat out, dropping the tools on the table, walking over to the glowing blue 'pond' that became the entrance to the dreamscape.

"What? A nickname ruffled ya' up?" Boothill teased, seeing you lay down and close your eyes. His words were met with a middle finger coming from you, right before you drifted off to the dreamscape. The furrowed and irritated face turned into a peaceful slumber.

Seeing you asleep, Boothill sighed, wearing the hat back on his head. Mechanical sounds could be heard from his arm, and a few moments later; he stretched the robotic arm, as if nothing was wrong in the first place.

He walked over to you, making sure you were truly sleep.

The cold mettalic hand went to your face, moving away the strands of hair on your face.

He smiled, his sharp teeth showing faintly beneath the smile. "Good dreams, Spark," he murmured softly.

"... one day I'll tell you what it means."

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

Spark – A lover, a beau.

[hyperfixatedbastard]

do you write hypnosis stuff?? it's not specifically against the rules but idk it's kind of an iffy era for a lot of writers-

if it's okay with you, could you write some Vox x Singer!Reader who he uses his mind control on to sell their soul to him so they remain under the VoxTek label? (im sure remaining with him is an ulterior motive of his as well lol)

thanks :]

I can absolutely do that! I’m a little iffy about NSFW hypnosis, but I can do a SFW oneshot :)

siren songs

Obsessed!Vox x Singer!GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

WARNINGS: Yandere-ish behavior, hypnosis, manipulation, toxic behavior, all that good stuff

A/N: I told y'all I'd be back with some toxic Vox!! I wasn't entirely sure how to end this one, but I've spent enough time rewriting it to stop caring. This one is only romantic in theory - nothing actually romantic happens between Vox and Reader, it's more mutual pining than anything else This is also my first time writing obsessive behavior, so I hope I did it well!

Dividers

You’ve been working with the Vees for years now. You were originally recruited by Velvette, who’s like a bloodhound for new talent. She saw some popular videos of your singing online, and she made you famous.

But you don’t work with her that much, oddly enough. Over time, you gradually started to see her less and less. Vox was the one to take her place. By the time you noticed, there wasn’t much you could do about it—you’re certainly not an equal to the Vees, so there wasn’t much you could do. Sure, you could’ve quit then and there, as you’d never signed a soul-binding contract, but you really liked your job. You were getting to do what you loved for a living! Who wouldn’t want that?

Well, you. You don’t want that anymore. You’re getting burnt out. You feel like you’re out of creativity for writing songs, and singing no longer has the same appeal it used to. It feels like a chore. Getting on stage doesn’t get you excited—it just fills you with dread.

Then you saw the videos of the annual clown pageant down in the Greed Ring. How Fizzarolli, Mammon’s favorite little jester, just…quit. Just like that. 

Can you do that?

You don’t have backup like Fizzarolli did. There’s no Prince of Hell to protect you if the Vees lash out in response to your resignation. But the Vees aren’t Mammon. They’re powerful Overlords, sure, but they wouldn’t kill off an easy cash grab like you. And they don’t have any leverage to use against you—you’re a fucking superstar, you learned to stop keeping secrets a long time ago.

Yeah, you can totally do this!

You spend the next week making a plan. You currently live in V Tower, so finding another living arrangement is a priority. Luckily, your standards are just as low as before you got famous, so snatching up an apartment doesn’t take long. You’ve been building up savings for some time now, just little bits here and there that wouldn’t look suspicious among your bank withdrawls, so you have enough money to last you a while. You’ve made a go-bag, but you’re not too worried about bringing anything with you, as you have enough cash to just buy new shit. By the time the end of the week comes around, you’ve got your escape plan ready to go. All that’s left is to actually quit.

You decide that directly speaking to Vox is your best option. Velvette and you don’t have the same rapport that you used to, and Valentino is just… no. During your time working with Vox, you like to think there’s some sort of friendship there. The two of you chat amicably, and he always makes sure you’re okay when it comes to creepy fans and the like. You feel like there could be something more than just friendship, but you don’t plan on staying long enough to find out. As much as you like Vox, you’re not willing to spend the rest of your afterlife hating every second of your job just for him.

You stand outside Vox’s lair, mentally preparing yourself for this conversation. You take a deep breath, and right before you can knock on the door, it opens.

Okay, here goes.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

You aren’t as sneaky as you seem to think you are.

A normal boss wouldn’t have noticed the small transactions in your bank account, or the little trips you’ve been taking to go look at apartments. But Vox isn’t a ‘normal boss’ by any means. And he noticed.

From the moment Vox set eyes on you, he knew he wanted you. You’re beautiful, and fuck, your voice—he just can’t get you out of his damn head, no matter how hard he tries. And he really fucking tried. But he couldn’t avoid you, thanks to VoxTek being such an integral part of your performances. And you’re like a damn siren with that voice of yours, even though he’s supposed to be the hypnotizing one here. Eventually, he just gave in and accepted that he was more than a little obsessed with you. That’s why he started drawing you closer to him, pushing away Velvette and taking control of your brand. He doesn’t like sharing.

Obsession isn’t a particularly new feeling for Vox. He certainly has… tendencies. But this isn’t like whatever the fuck he’s got going on with that deer-headed, old-timey bastard Alastor. It’s not a lust thing, either. You’re certainly attractive, and Vox most definitely would sleep with you, but that’s not the main factor at play here. This is a deeper obsession than any of that bullshit.

Vox knows that he doesn’t own your soul. He’s well aware that he can’t truly stop you from quitting. Even if he managed to trap you inside V Tower, he can’t force you to keep up the performances. If he had you under a proper soul-binding contract, though…

He would own you.

Now, he’s not Valentino. He doesn’t plan to take that kind of advantage over you. He doesn’t want to change a damn thing. He just wants you to stay.

And he will make you stay.

He knows when you approach his office, and he opens the doors with the touch of a button on his desk. He plasters that casually perfect smile on his screen and turns to face you as you enter. The doors shut behind you.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you today, my dear,” he lies easily, the charismatic mask fitting into place like it was never absent in the first place. “How can I help you?”

You hesitate, your anxiety starting to get to you. But you’re determined to do this. You clear your throat and step forward. “I’m resigning.”

Vox’s smile doesn’t falter, nor does his screen glitch. His demeanor is…unnerving, to say the least. You’ve known him to be temperamental, emotional. You expected some kind of reaction. But he’s just smirking at you like he always does.

“I don’t suppose there’s anything I can do to change your mind,” he replies smoothly, tilting his head to the side just slightly.

“No,” you confirm, trying to sound confident in your answer. You’re not sure if you succeed. “I’ve already made my decision.”

Vox sighs, though he doesn’t sound very defeated. His smirk hasn’t gone away, either. “Well, then. It’s been a pleasure working with you, darling.”

He holds his hand out for you to shake. The gesture immediately worries you, as it’s the well-known sign of a deal. But you reassure yourself that there’s no deal being made here. Hell may be chaotic, but there’s rules when it comes to these kinds of things. Neither of you have offered anything, therefore there’s no harm in shaking his hand. It’s just a respectful gesture of a boss wishing their employee farewell. It all feels too easy, but you’re too relieved to think too hard about it.

You go to take his hand, but as you lift your head up to meet his gaze, everything goes fuzzy.

Vox grabs you by your wrist before you can shake his hand. He’s not rough with you. He’s careful of his claws, ensuring they don’t put too much pressure on your skin. Not that you’d notice, either way—your mind is far gone at this point, thanks to those spirals in his eye.

“In exchange for your soul, you’ll remain under the VoxTek label and continue working for me. Your work will remain the same as before. You’ll forget about leaving. You will want to stay here. You will want to stay here with me.”

A golden scroll appears out of thin air, and it floats in front of you as it unfurls. “Sign it.”

Your body moves on its own. You sign your name on the line at the bottom of the page.

Vox releases your wrist, and takes your hand in his own as his eye reverts back to its normal state. When you come to just moments later, he’s shaking your hand with calm professionality.

“I’m glad we got that sorted out,” Vox remarks smoothly, his smirk looking almost proud now. “I look forward to your next performance, my dear.”

You blink a few times as you become more lucid and aware. “Uh, yeah. Can’t wait!”

You smile, and Vox releases your hand, seemingly satisfied with your answer. You don’t remember what exactly you came in here for, but you’re happy with the outcome.  “Perfect.”

[make-me-imagine]

Confession + Relationship Headcanons {K.GW & H.WJ}

Confession + General Relationship Headcanons with Kim Geon-Woo and Hong Woo-Jin (Bloodhounds)

Pairing: Kim Geon-Woo x Gn!Reader; Hong Woo-Jin x Gn!Reader + Geon-Woo x Reader x Woo-Jin headcanons because why not lol.

Requested By: Anonymous

Warnings: Some headcanons revolving around physical affection and kissing. Poly-Headcanons; listed separately and labelled so avoid if you're not into that.

Words: Geon-Woo: 0.5k ; Woojin: 0.4k; Poly: 0.7k Total Word Count: ~1.6k

A/n: Me coming back from hiatus with content for a show no one follows me for? It's more likely than you think!

Kim Geon-Woo

Geon-Woo is fairly reserved until he gets to know someone, so even if he was attracted to you he would keep it to himself until he got to know you better.

He is a big believer in needing to be friends with someone first before starting a relationship.

Even though he waits until you form a bond of friendship, he is head over heels for you, and it is obvious, even to you eventually.

Caught staring at you too often not to notice.

Always offers to help you, or does random things for you.

You make him blush pretty easily, and smile all the time.

Like, giggling and kicking his feet kind of guy if you do something he finds cute.

You would worry you assumed wrong though since he never said anything, but then finally he does confess.

He does it in a reserved and shy way after he walked you home from having dinner with him and Woojin.

He will struggle to keep eye contact at first, but then he will finally get a hold of himself and tell you how he feels.

He will list the things he loves about you, how long he a felt this way, and how much he wants to be with you.

Geon-Woo is ecstatic when you confess you feel the same.

He asks to hold your hand, and is all cute and smiley when you say yes.

Geon-woo loves holding your hand, especially when you are walking around together.

If your hands are a lot smaller than his?? LOVES to engulf your hands in his, especially if you are cold.

Totally the type to give you his jacket when you are cold, even if he is too.

Surprises you with flowers and food to make you smile.

His giving love languages are Acts of Service, Quality Time, and Gift Giving.

His main receiving Love Language is Quality Time, but he enjoys physical touch as well.

He loves hugging you, often from behind so he can rest his head on yours or on your shoulder (depending on the height difference)

He also loves kissing, especially slow kisses when cuddling, you but all of that stays in private.

When you say goodbye to each other he often gives you a kiss to your hand, or forehead though.

And if you kiss him (mainly in public or in front of others) he gets all shy and cute.

Since he loves spending time with or around you, you two go on a lot of cute dates.

Going to the movies, arcades, walks, hiking, short road trips, picnics, museum dates, anything that involves just the two of you is amazing to him.

He is very caring and gentle, and is quite protective without being controlling.

He will always give you space when you need it, and will always be here when you want comfort or company.

Ride or Die, simp, giant green flag, he is all of the above. When he loves he loves with his whole heart and nothing less.

Hong Woo-Jin

Woojin is more bold than Geonwoo so he wouldn't really hide his feelings, or beat around the bush.

Once he meets you and realizes he is very much into you, he is ready to test the waters.

Flirts immedietely.

If you reciprocate and flirt back, he is surprised yet ecstatic.

If you are shy and bashful about it, he finds it adorable and it only makes him want to flirt more just to see you blush.

It took you some time though to realize he was being serious.

He saw someone else showing interest and panicked because he feared he would lose his chance to actually be with you.

When he confessed, his boldness seemed to vanish and he grew shyer than you had ever seen.

He showed up with flowers, a jittery demeanor and a lot of rambling.

But it was honestly adorable.

You were admittedly, a bit surprised to learn he had not just been flirting but had truly been trying to pursue you.

So when he asked you on a date, you were more than happy to say yes.

He is very fun to be in a relationship with. He is down to do pretty much anything and nothing, as long as it is with you.

His love languages, both giving and receiving are Quality Time, Words of Affirmation and Physical Affection.

He is perfectly open to PDA so it depends on how you feel about it.

If you are fine with it, he will be all over you whenever he wants (which is often), if you do not like it, he will stick to an arm around your waist or his hand in yours until you are alone together.

If you initiate PDA he gets giddy he loves it.

Loooves kissing, doesn't care if there are others around to see it (again this depends on you - he wont do things you are uncomfortable with.)

When it is just the two of you he loves being close to you.

Dates with Woojin are often fun and involve some form of activity, and usually food.

Arcades, bowling, mini golf, theme parks, etc..

The dates often last for hours or even a whole day because you enjoy being with each other so much.

He is clingy so even if you want some time alone it is often that he is nearby. He will give you your space, but the second you are fine with him being there he appears like a puppy that had been waiting for you to get home from work.

Will cook for you and take you out to eat all kinds of food.

If you cook for him, he will help you or clean up afterwards.

Will go to the ends of the Earth to protect you and make you happy. Definitely a ride or die kind of boyfriend.

Geon-Woo + Woo-Jin (Poly Relationship)

Being in a relationship with both Geon-Woo an Woo-jin would happen slowly.

Geon-Woo an Woo-jin do not have romantic feelings for one another, but they are so close that being with the same partner poses no issues for them.

In a way they prefer it, they spend so much time together and are so close that having the same partner makes sense in a way.

When they first realized that they both had strong feelings for you thy both backed off, not wanting to steal the others desired partner.

But then, they figured out you had feelings for both of them as well.

Woo-Jin was the first to bring up a possible poly situation to Geon-Woo.

Geon-Woo admittedly was thrown off about this at first, not sure if it would really work out.

But there feelings for you were so strong, and they were so close he couldn't really find any issues with it.

And the idea of one of them being with you and the other not didn't sit well with them, so it was a both or neither situation.

But they were both worried you would hate the idea, and they didn't want to lose you completely so they were cautious about it.

First they both made their feelings for you known, and in a way courted you equally.

You noticed it immedietely and withdrew a bit, because the idea of choosing one and the other being hurt was something you could not do.

Noticing you were running they decided to admit they both had feelings for you and both wanted to be with you.

You were thrown off, confused, and worried it was something they actually didn't want but said it solely to appease each other.

They took the time to explain to you their feelings and how much they both cared about you, and each other.

Every question you had, they had an answer or solution for, and eventually you couldn't really find any issues with it.

You decided to try it out slowly at first, but it quickly felt so right and normal that it became a real relationship pretty quickly.

Everyone who knew you knows the three of you are super close, so none of them really suspect you are in a relationship.

They could see them hugging you and playfully flirting with you and not bat an eyelash.

There is rarely a day the three of you aren't together or around each other.

If you work out, you work out with them - two free personal trainers, and they're hot? If you don't work out you still get to watch them work out. Its a win win situation.

Some days you go on individual dates with them, doing something one prefers over the other.

Then the three of you often go on a group date. Either to the movies, out to eat, a picnic, bowling or activity dates etc. Often having small competitions between the three of you to see who pays.

You are always between them. When sitting, standing, sleeping, cuddling. It's like having two constant teddy bears.

Once your relationship got more serious, Woojin convinced everyone to get giant beds so it didn't matter whose house you were at, if you wanted to sleep over, there was room for all three of you.

Group chat called "Sunshine Protection Squad" because they are basically your body guards. (You are sunshine if that wasn't obvious)

Anyone bothering you? Creepy guys hitting on you? Dangerous situation? They are there ready to protect.

They teach you self-defense and how to fight for times they are not there.

Woojin calls you sunshine and/or sunflower, while Geo-Woo calls you babe/baby or flower. (And also Princes if that matches your pronouns). You are passenger princess no matter what btw.

They like taking care of you, even if it can be overwhelming or stifling. Though they do give you space and alone time when you need it.

They get very good at being able to tell what you want or need even before you say anything.

You are always fed, hydrated and taken care of because they will never let anything bad touch you if they can help it.

xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @rexit-mo, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

-Taglist Form- *Bloodhounds has been added to form

[teratosfavouritesnack]

Werewolf boyfriend x gn!reader - roleplay kink, predator/prey dynamic, penetration, knotting, fluff

You try to keep quiet, your hands covering your mouth as you peek through the gaps in the shutter of your closet. It looks like he hasn't found you, yet... but he will, soon enough. There's only so many places in your house where you can fit in and hide after all, and you've played this game enough times already to be forced to use the same spots twice.

He's very quiet, like a true predator, taking his time and giving false hope to his prey, making you think that perhaps you'll be able to escape him today but oh no, it's just a good old trick. A trick to get your blood pumping, to get both of you riled up and ready for the moment he will catch you.

He's getting closer, you're sure. You can hear him sniffling, seeking your scent. He won't recognize it. You've covered your human smell with his own, stroking yourself against his fur just earlier, like you do every time you play. He knows he won’t be able to sniff you out but he plays his act anyway like the good bloodhound he is.

He's so close now, even your human nose can pick up his earthy scent. He sniffles and sniffles, until his snout bumps in the shutters of your closet. You stay still, as still as you can, your hands almost turning white from how hard you're squeezing them against your mouth... Maybe this time he won't find you. Maybe this time you'll win, you'll escape... But there’s no escaping against such a monster. 

With a heavy and loud crash the shutter breaks down and you come face to face with your behemoth of a lover. He grins and snarls, showing his sharp canines and you cower at the sight just like you both like it. 

"Looks like the big bad wolf got you! Again." he teases, his eyes lighting up in both amusement and feral hunger right before he wraps his clawed paws around you and drags you out of your hiding spot. You're screaming, asking for help, pleading with the monster to let you go while your thighs anchor his hips and your arms latch around his furry neck. But the big bad wolf has gotten you in his grasp now and he's not letting you go before he's claimed you as his. Again. 

One of his clawed hands leaves your hips to grope your ass and rip the fabric of your shorts. A growl of appreciation rumbles through his chest upon noticing how wet you are already, even wetter than the last time. You keep on wiggling in his grasp, acting your role, until you feel his throbbing cock tease your entrance and slide inside your hole with one firm thrust, turning your dramatic screams into more sincere cries. Both his huge hands settle around your thighs as he pounds his hips upwards against yours, sinking his cock so deep inside you you see stars at each hit. Your arms tighten around his neck, your flushed face buried in the thick and soft fur of his chest, leaving the side of your neck open for his tongue to lick over your pulse point and for his canines to nibble your soft skin. 

He has you whimpering and blubbering, declaring that you're his, that he owns you, that you love how his big monstrous cock feels inside you just as the tension in your belly reaches its peak and you come undone, spasming and cumming on him.

His breaths fans the hair on your neck, his huffs getting shorter and more frantic until he's the one stuttering out how much he loves your tight hole, that you're his pretty kinky prey and that he owns you now and forever, all the while he's knotting you. 

He squeezes your trembling body against his, keeping you in his tight clench, his claws almost tearing the flesh of your thighs, until the very last drop of his semen fills your hole and his spent cock slides out of you. You both pant and relax against each other while you watch his cum drip in a puddle on the floor. Cheeky grins bloom on both your faces once your eyes meet again and you move over to the bed to lie down and cuddle.

"Your screams were really good this time, baby. You're getting better at it." 

"Mhm-Mhm. And you left me waiting inside that closet, on my knees, for 15 fucking minutes! You're such a bastard-" 

"Aww, poor baby! Your little knees hurt? You want me to kiss them better?" 

"Shut your face or I'll put a muzzle on it!"

🪷. You can leave me a tip on ko-fi if you want to support me

[freyito]

ᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍʀ ᴡᴏʟꜰ

✭ pairing(s): gallagher x gn reader

✩ inspo: me and mr wolf by the real tuesday weld

★ summary: The Family is hosting a ball as more promotion for the Charmony Festival. At this ball, a certain Bloodhound Family member takes interest in you...

✧ a/n: pspsps did you know requests are open <3? (also totally not setting up a part 2 not at allll (guy who set up the most obvious intro to part 2))

✦ like my work? feel free to send a request !

🗒 cw: gn reader, anxious reader, mild penacony spoilers, just fluff-ish, he's a little eerie, proofread

✎ wc: 2.5k

The scene before you is incredibly lavish, light, and dreamy. It speaks of The Family’s power and bank, how quickly they are able to set up such a beautiful sight within the Dreamscape. It’s like a fantasy, something you’d only see in, well, dreams. Patrons from all sorts of colorful backgrounds flood the floor, some of them you believe you recognize. The chatter around you drowns out what would be ethereal music, guests piling in from two wide double doors. You look to your right, and you see Sunday, the head of the Oak Family all the way at the end of the venue, hands behind his back and observing the revelry. On the other side of the venue, you see Oti Alfalfa– which is very questionable in its own right. Perhaps the Alfalfa family paid for the venue, or… something. You couldn’t really make sense of it. With how crowded it was, you didn’t want to make sense of it.

With your head down, you make your way through the crowd, doing your best to make sure you don’t bump into anyone. After all, this was the first time you’ve seen anyone dressed up so fancy. And, some passing glances at you tell you that, for once, these people care about what they’re wearing in the Dreamscape. You avoid their gazes, making a beeline to the drinks. Or so you hope– this is a formal ball, after all. Would they really have a drink table like it’s some highschool prom? You get your answer when you reach the end of the hall, and there’s no table in sight. A pity, really. However, you do spot waiters walking around with platters of SoulGlad. It isn’t the best choice, but it’ll wet your throat.

Grabbing one of the delicate glasses after flagging a waiter down, you hunker down in a less populated corner. You watch as the tempo takes hold, dancers falling into line. You grow increasingly conscious that you are here alone, no partner to dance with. Not like you wanted to, right? Throwing yourself into a ball with no partner, not even a friend, it feels… embarrassing. And suddenly, you’re aware of why people's eyes have been on you. You lower your head once more, staring down into the glass of SoulGlad, furrowing your brows. You swirl the glass, watching as it fizzes and dies down, as the music around you dies down. What a shame, really… You had no idea what you were doing here, perhaps you just wanted to join in on the revelry? Enjoying yourself seems like a distant reality, despite that being the essence of the Dreamscape.

Reluctantly, you take a swig of the drink, letting it cool your throat. With a huff, you look back into the near empty glass, practically forgetting to even taste the drink. Whether you’re spurred on by self-hatred or a genuine interest, you make your way to the floor. Catching another waiter as you do so, you hand them to empty glass. It feels weird, being in such a posh environment. Yet, before you can reach the floor, a hand grabs your wrist. It sends a shiver down your spine, and suddenly your new-found confidence is shot. You turn around to reprimand whoever grabbed you, but you’re met with a Bloodhound Guard.

He looks at you with a stoic face, raising his eyebrow slightly when you shoot him a judgmental look. Just because he’s part of the Bloodhound Family doesn’t mean it’s okay for him to grab you so suddenly. And it seems he’s caught onto that, because he lets go of your arm.

“Ahem, sorry about that,” He starts, his tone cool and even, his voice slightly gravelly and deep. Yet, it doesn’t sound like he’s actually sorry, there is no apology in his tone. “You’re, uh, you’re kinda makin’ a warpath, here.”

You raise your eyebrow, and you have no idea how to respond. The words get stuck in your throat, and all you can do is look around. You’re on the edge of the floor, and the dancing hasn’t ceased. Everyone’s eyes are on each other, thank the Aeons.

At your baffled look, he relaxes and chuckles softly. “Sorry, just had to make sure you weren’t… going to cause trouble.”

A light blush dusts your cheeks, and you find yourself feeling embarrassed again. Only then do you take in the man’s disheveled appearance. Some stubble, hair left undone for such a fancy event, and a suit that was put together all too quickly, wrinkled and perhaps a little stained. His hazel eyes bore into yours, as if searching you for something, though he’s already established that you are no threat. Something about him, however, feels familiar. You swear, his name is on the tip of your tongue, you’ve seen this man… somewhere before.

“Apologies, didn’t mean to ruin your night…” He trails off, eyes tearing away to look you up and down. When his eyes meet yours once more, he extends a calloused hand towards you. His gaze softens and he smiles with a huff. “Care for a dance?”

“Ah…” Is the only thing you manage to choke out. You’re taken aback by the sudden invitation, slightly unnerved. It’s not that he himself is nerve wracking, but it’s the way he’s gone from gruff to gentlemanly. “Sure.”

Your response is dry, but you put your hand in his. Wordlessly, he leads you into the center of the floor, falling in step with all the dance partners around you. Despite his messy appearance, he dances elegantly. He matches the flow of the room easily, swaying, each step smooth. Now that you’re up close and personal, you take in the faint smell of tobacco and some generic cologne, and an undertone of something metallic. You do your best to forget about it, allowing yourself to get whisked away by the melody surrounding you two.

“Gallagher, by the way.” The man starts once more, answering the question, or lack thereof, you had asked yourself.

“What brings a Bloodhound to a, uh, ball?” You ask, attempting to strike up conversation. It only hits you now that you are dancing with a stranger, so closely and almost… intimately. Another feeling of unease crawls down your spine, and you can’t understand why.

Gallagher chuckles at your question, as if it’s preposterous to think that the Bloodhound Family do more than just act tough. “We’re allowed a little fun every once in a while,” He shrugs, pulling you ever so slightly closer. “It’s not a crime, right?”

The proximity makes you blush, acutely aware of just how rough and calloused his hands feel, your palms start to get sweaty. You do your best to ignore it, after all, this is a man you just met. “No, no, not at all…” You try to act and sound confident, ignoring the pit in your stomach. “Just… I didn’t expect it, that's all.”

Silence stretches between you two as you spin around the floor, like cogs in a machine. It only strikes you now how… mundane this event truly is. Sure, it is grand and lights up the night, but is there really a purpose? The unease and anxiety settles in your bones, and your pace falters, suddenly no longer able to follow Gallagher’s steps. He notices this, and slows down. But when you meet his eyes, his gaze isn’t concerned. He can see you piecing things together, and a smirk tugs at his lips.

“Got something on your mind?” His voice lowers, barely above the music that surrounds you two. It carries the tone of a challenge, but you don’t want to respond. Your throat is dry once more, and you keep your gaze away from him. He squeezes your hands and traps you within the waltz, every step caging you in.

“Just… nervous, sorry,” You deflect, trying to ignore the creeping unease that seeps into your veins. Perhaps this is all in your head, and you’re just letting the embarrassment, the anxiety, and the nerves get to your head. It’s not a far-off assumption, since you’ve stepped foot in the hall you’ve wanted nothing more than to run out. To wake up from the dream. “My bad.”

Gallagher lets up, loosening his grip on your hand and puts a little space between you two as you fall back into pace with the other dancers. His expression eases into something softer, something that doesn’t necessarily fit a man of his stature.

“You’re more than welcome to take a break,” He doesn’t apologize, brushing off the scene from the moment before. Yet, despite this invitation, he continues to dance, his own pace does not waver. “I won’t mind.”

You feel nauseous, yes, but when was the last time you’ve danced? When was the last time you’ve felt this elegant? You swallow your anxiety and shake your head, allowing yourself to really enjoy this waltz. “It’s okay.”

Gallagher responds with a ‘hm’ and a nod, no words spoken. Finally, you watch your steps. He’s already set himself as the lead, and you had no qualms being the follow. You step backward. Pause. Then you step to the side. Pause. Then you bring your feet together. You continue this pattern, finally hearing the music above the tapping around you. It’s almost comforting in a way, being able to follow something that feels… luxurious. And Gallagher seems to be enjoying himself, as well. He isn’t pulling you closer, his hands hold you loosely, as if he’s suddenly afraid of scaring you. As if he hadn’t.

Slowly, you relax. The beat lulls you into a sense of calm, spinning around the floor as if it came naturally. You are no longer hyper aware of everyone else, feeling as if it’s just you and Gallagher. His heady scent feels the air between you two, the metallic tang you smelled earlier becoming a lot more potent. You do your best to ignore it, the music picking up intensity. He drops your right arm, raising his left hand up, and spinning you. It’s a light and airy feeling, something akin to a warm spring day. All worries wash away so easily under such a simple act.

A man you’ve barely known, that you’re sure you’ve seen a handful of times in Golden Hour and Blue Hour, treating you so delicately despite his gruff exterior. Perhaps it’s the exhaustion that follows such a nerve wracking experience, you can’t tell. For now, it doesn’t matter. You are enjoying yourself, dancing with a Bloodhound or not.

Just as the waltz feels like it’s reaching an end, Gallagher dips you down, his hand placed firmly against the small of your back. His eyes meet yours once more, a sly grin spreading across his face, giving you a proper view of his sharp canine teeth. It isn’t as strange as before, something you feel like you’ve grown used to in just a mere four minutes. But, in that moment, you realize the rough skin of his knuckles isn’t just from his hard line of work, but rather bruised skin. You run your thumb over his knuckles, and he only furrows his eyebrows.

At this, he brings you back up, and you two resume the steady waltz. Now, you want to ask him about it. You steal another glance at his hand, trying to see if you were right, but the dim lights within the ballroom black you from doing so. You can’t get hurt in the Dreamscape, you’re sure of it. So, it must’ve been somewhere in reality…

“Some hooligan was stirring up trouble, wouldn’t leave their room. Had to drag them out.” As if he read your mind, he responds quickly. It’s quite impressive with how in-tune he is with you and your mind.

“Ah,” You nod, trying to sound understanding. It checks out, that must’ve been why his suit was a little… sloppy. “Sounds like it sucked.”

“The Charmony Festival brings out all sorts of undesirables…” Gallagher affirms.

The conversation is dry, but you still feel a weird pull towards him. You simply cannot figure out what else to talk about, what to ask. Anything you fish out in your mind sounds like you’re on a date with him. Sure, the current situation feels like it isn’t far off from that conclusion, but he asked you for a dance, not a date.

And, unfortunately, the ball was coming to an end. It’s a shame, really. Time had slipped away from your mind, and you had enjoyed yourself. Even with such an unsure start, with such an enigmatic fellow, it was fun. The music slowly comes to a stop, as does the other dancers. You and Gallagher are left together in a sea of chatter, flats and shoes clacking as patrons walk off the floor, an awkward air falling over you two like a blanket.

You look at Gallagher, and he has a somber look on his face, watching everyone filter off the dance floor. He himself had a great time, too. Something you assumed may be rare for Bloodhounds. But, he snaps out of it quickly, returning your gaze with a near sheepish smile.

“Such a shame, isn’t it?” He chuckles, “Don’t remember the last time I’ve danced like that.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever danced.” You shake your head, sighing softly.

“Well, you were a perfect dance partner, if that counts for somethin’.” Gallagher starts to walk, following the stream of people.

You follow suit, blushing a little at the compliment. You try to find an organic flow for the conversation, but all you can stutter out is a ‘thanks’ and a small nod as if to affirm your own confidence. You want so badly to follow up with a question about him, to see if you can get a crack from his cool demeanor, but ultimately, you fall short when you two finally step out of the venue. With a brisk exhale, you feel lighter. You hadn’t realized how stuffy it felt within the ballroom until now.

“Well, it was fun,” Gallagher sighs, shrugging off his blazer casually. “I’d invite you for another dance, but, that’s not necessarily my thing.”

With your one chance at getting to know more, you trip over your own words and decide, why not? Why not shoot your shot, ask him out?

“I mean… uh, we could, get dinner, or something?” You sound so unsure, so flustered, blushing a little at your own question.

“Why not?” Gallagher shrugs, an easy smile plastered to his face. “Don’t think I ever got your name, either.”

You hastily tell him your name, bowing your head like you’re grateful to him for this opportunity. You’re more grateful to yourself, being able to ask a question like that. You two quickly exchange phone numbers, and suddenly it feels like there's a weight lifted off your shoulders.

He gives you a thoughtful look, scratching at his stubble. “How about a drink?”

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[lala-lolly]

Hiii!!! I’m the one who wrote the request for the gun woo argument thingy 😭😭😭 I’d say preferably gn reader??? If that’s okay with you thank youuuu ❤️❤️❤️

Here you go!

Keep dreaming~~💚💙

~ Lala-Lolly 🌆☁️🍭

[parkersgarage]

payphones

a/n: loml. went a lil overboard (not really) for the anon that wanted woojin, this is very much only the first of many 🫶

warnings: very dialogue oriented, lots of cut scenes. lots of longing, mentions woojin’s injuries and scars near the end.

Hong Woojin x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned) 1289 wc.

“How much longer until you come home?” You ask quietly, clutching the fabric of his hoodie you’d started wearing when he left. “I miss you.”

Woojin sighs over the phone, tapping a coin against the metal payphone. “Don’t talk like that, please.” He whispered, looking to the side when he saw movement.

Hyunju taps on her wrist, signaling for him to wrap it up. He waves his hand, slipping in another coin for more time. Hyunju rolls her eyes, stomping away to the car.

“I’ll be home soon. Could you wait for me? And don’t ever open the door for anyone. I don’t know if these guys know about you, and I can’t risk you getting hurt.” He says, looking down as he speaks. “Be safe. I love you.”

You hum, picking at the fabric of his blanket. “I love you more. Come home soon.” He hums in agreement, nodding his head despite the fact you couldn’t see him. “I'll treat you to ribeye, and gunwoo too. I’d say everyone, but I don’t think I can afford it.”

He laughs quietly, opening his mouth to retort but is cut off by the dial tone from the phone. He lowers his head, sniffing lightly as he puts the phone back. “See you later.” He whispered, pinching his fist against the phone.

You sigh at the tone, falling back onto the bed with a huff, tears swimming in your eyes. “See you later.”

It’s not until two weeks later that you get another call from Woojin, and you swear you can hear the bustling sounds of a train station.

“Hey, sweetheart.” At the sound of his voice, your heart stops, tears brimming in your eyes when he clears his throat, trying to rid the rasp in his voice. “I’m sorry, but I won’t be home for a while.”

“How long?” You ask, blinking tears away. “If you know, I mean, I just– I’ll wait forever for you, woojin, but I miss you.”

He lowers his head, feeling tears creep up from his throat. “I know. I miss you too. I’m going crazy without you.” You chuckle, smiling against the phone. “I promise it’ll be over soon. Just give me time.”

“Okay,” you whispered, “Okay, I’ll see you when I see you.”

He hums in agreement, “I’ll keep calling, so answer when I do, okay?” You hum. “Wear my clothes, spray my cologne everywhere, put up pictures of my handsome face in every room.”

When you laugh, Woojin feels accomplished, smiling at the sound. “You’re ridiculous.” The speakers in the train station announce an arrival, Woojin sighing in response. “Call me when you get to wherever.” He laughs. “I love you.”

“I love you most.”

The phone dial rings in your ear, a sound you’ve grown accustomed to since he’d left. It brought more pain than comfort, knowing your time with Woojin was always stuck on a timer.

Four-hundred calls later, and six months have passed, Woojin finally calls you from a payphone for the last time.

“I’m coming home.” Was his greeting, laughing lightly when you’d stumbled over your words. “I’ll be home today.” You let out a sigh of relief, grinning widely when he laughs. “I’ll see you soon. I have to go. Go see Gunwoo’s mom at the orphanage.” You hum in agreement, rushing to get ready.

His heart races as he waits to see you, growing antsy each minute that passes. Gunwoo assures him you’ll be here soon, making a passing joke about him waiting for you instead of vice versa. He responds by rolling his eyes.

“Hong Woojin!” He breaks out into a smile at your voice, turning around, beaming when he sees you in his sweater. He runs towards you, gunwoo watching with his mother from across the field.

Woojin clasps his hands around yours when they reach his face, whispering out assurance that he was okay and that they would heal. “Did you miss me?” He asks cheekily, lips turning downward when he sees tears in your eyes.

“Of course I did,” you whispered. He could feel your hands trembling and held onto them tightly. “I couldn’t sleep without you.”

Woojin takes in your appearance, tracing over the new bags under your eyes to the discoloration beneath them. He holds you tightly to his body, rubbing your back lightly. “I’m not leaving you again.”

“You better not,” you laugh, “I can’t live without you.” He sighs at your words, pressing you closer to him. “But woojin,” he hums, pouting when you pull away. “You really smell.”

He gapes at your words, pulling his shirt to his nose. “Gunwoo, I told you we should’ve taken showers first!” The latter holds his hands up in surrender, looking at his mother with wide eyes when she slaps his chest. “It wasn’t really on my mind when I got back,” he says. “I just wanted to see you first.”

“When we get home, we’ll take one together.” He nods quickly, smiling like a dork. “Not like that, woo,” you add. His smile falters for a second but he nods again. “I just wanna be with you.”

He’d forgotten what state he left his place in, but it certainly wasn’t as pristine as you’d left it. His clothes were stacked neatly in his drawers for one, they’d usually be hanging halfway out and thrown on the floor.

Woojin looks behind himself when you wrap your arms around his waist, kissing his shoulder lightly. “Are you okay?” He nods, letting you lead him to the bathroom.

He stops your hands when they move to lift his shirt, sitting on the toilet lid. “There’s–” he cuts himself off when you look at him, his eyes casting downward as he gestures to his stomach. “There’s something new I couldn’t tell you about, and there’s no way around it.” His tongue feels heavy in his mouth as he talks, fear building in his gut at the thought of you being weirded out.

When you nod and sit in front of him patiently, he reaches for the hem of his shirt, hands shaking as he lifts the fabric over his head. Your mouth falls open at the scars on his stomach, fingers trembling as you reach to touch them.

Woojin hisses at your touch, not because of pain but because your fingertips send chills down his spine from the cold. “Did I hurt you?”

He shakes his head, “No, never. Your hands are just cold.” You laugh lightly, finger tracing along the longer scar down his abdomen. “I'm sorry I kept this from you.”

“Don’t be sorry.” You tell him, kissing his cheek. “If I knew, I probably would’ve killed the bastard myself.” He lowers his head as he laughs, holding your hands as he looks up at you. “He’s gone now, right?” He nods. “Good.”

You hold his hand as you step in, smiling softly when he immediately holds you.“You must be tired. After this, we can go to bed.” He nods, leaning against your body as you wash his back.

“I was promised a ribeye meal.” He murmurs softly, smiling when your hands stop massaging his back.

You hum, hands trailing to his waist. “You want to eat now?” He shakes his head, pressing messy kisses to your skin. “No?” He hums, resting his weight against you. “What do you wanna do?”

He snorts lightly, coughing slightly at the water that goes up his nose. “You.” He says, laughing when you pinch his waist. “Hm, maybe some other time.” You hum. “Just wanna be next to you.”

“Okay.” You whisper, smiling when he looks at you. “I love you.” He beams, resting his head against yours, softly whispering it back. “Welcome home.”

[pelibirdie]

"A brand new year to remember"

Relationship: Kuras x (GN) reader

A/N: squint and you will see some yearning and pining between the two. Burn so slow the meat is still raw.

That being said happy late birthday to my fucked up biblically accurate guilt ridden husband

Summary: it's Kuras's birthday. Though he is not a man of celebrations, you decide to still do a small gesture for him and keep him company for his birthday.

You lounged on the sides of the clinic. The harsh smell of ointment hung in the air as Kuras treated a burn mark left from a…rather explosive celebration from the night before. By no means was it a pretty sight, but you expected such a focused face from the doctor that stitched your arms back on. His pristine white coat laid on the chair he sat on when there was too many paperwork. His hair was tied back. You could hear nothing but the sharp breaths of the patient and the light chime of his earrings. 

Kuras was a strange man. Something about him stood out like the last star on a night sky. The cruel world you knew so far seemed to not have rubbed off on the man before you. To give out free treatments and walk the streets like nothing could ever harm him… was far too strange. But it brought you comfort and made you feel safer so you decided to spend your days in Eridia helping out in his clinic. Whatever small thing you could do to take your mind off of your curse. 

“Run the water please.” 

You nodded at Kuras and made your way to the small sink of the clinic, cleaning out the bowl of ointment and the scissors. Soon enough, Kuras also came by you to wash his hands off. 

“Something on your mind?’’ 

“Well,” 

“Goodbye, doctor! Happy birthday!” The bloodhound shouted as he left. 

“It’s your birthday?!” You stared at Kuras, eyes wide with interest. He seemed to avoid your gaze, golden eyes fixating on anything but you. “Yes. I’m afraid Leander is once again making a deal out of it.” He sighed as he sat down, letting his locks fall down his tall frame. “I do not have anything against my birthday, but I’m sure you are aware of my distaste towards all the cheap drinking and the Wet Wick. You need not make a big deal out of it. Please. Big celebrations get messy often.” 

You approached him slowly, standing before where he sat. “Alright, I’m not going to ‘make a big deal out of it’. However,’’ You placed a hand on his shoulder, gently swiping away one of the strands of hair off his collarbone. “I am still your friend. And I do think it’ll be nice to step out of the clinic for one night.”  A ghost of a smile crept up its way to the renowned doctors' lips. Kuras slowly took your hand, not removing it from his shoulder. Simply holding it as he stared into your eyes. 

You must look somewhat sheepish and nervous. Because the doctors’ face went cat-ish to your reaction. Eyes turning sharp with amusement. He always had eyes that stood out, bright, golden, unnatural but captivating nonetheless. “I’d be up for that. But only for the evening.” He leaned forward onto his desk resting his right elbow on the hard wood, still holding your hand without breaking eye contact. “You can leave if you please, I doubt the amount of people who made bad decisions when drunk last night is going to lessen in the coming hour or two.” You took a step towards the desk, slowly sitting on it to remain at a higher eye level than him. “Or the third, or the fourth,” you joked.

“So much for the yearly celebrations. I suppose Eridians know how to have fun every once in a while, no?”  

Kuras shook his head “Let them have it, people barely have a good time nowadays.” His eyes fell down again. A small silence followed his words. Only then you notice small changes in his frame, his messier hair, hands dyed in some herbs he used for the ointment, and eyes more tired than usual. “And I will be there to aid them whenever they do make bad desicions.” 

You slowly moved your hand to his arm, giving small caresses to his shoulder with your thumb. Your hands were covered with the bandages, but you also had the gloves you wore around the clinic on. You were used to giving fleeting touches, but these gloves were making you bolder. You cursed in your head, paranoia slowly creeping back into your head. You took your hand off of Kuras, getting up to grab your coat for the cold winter day waiting for you outside the clinics' doors. You smiled as you opened the door, feeling the wind on your skin.

“I’ll see you tonight, doctor.”

“Stay safe, (Y/N).”

The day went by concerningly fast as you went through the market, looking through herbs, scarves, trinkets…anything to get the doctor for his birthday. At least whatever you could afford for now. You looked at the pouch you got while walking back. Staring at the gift to ensure it is safe. You quickly made your way to the Wet Wick, asking Leander for a pen and paper. Soon, you are up in your room writing away. It doesn't occur to you that the sun has set until the Wet Wick starts getting unbearably loud. You run down with your jacket and your gift, dodging the crowd around the bar. “Hey (Y/N)! Have you seen Kuras?’ Leander called from the other side of the Wick, “No sorry!” was all you could shout before making it out of the Wet Wick. 

You sped through the streets. Though it was not safe to wander at night, you had hoped at least your pace and the lit-up streets would make getting to the clinic easier for you. But all thought came to a halt as you heard a wet, crunching noise. A noise of bones being broken and flesh being torn. A noise too familiar. Suddenly you were sprinting, checking behind you every once in a while until you ran face-first to someone. “I didn’t expect you to be this excited.” You breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing his tall frame. Sensing you are shaken up, Kuras held you by your shoulders. “Be not afraid, I am here. Let’s walk towards more light.” 

“Ah, sorry about the scare Kuras. I heard something then-” 

“It is alright, (Y/N). What matters is you are safe.”

Conversation takes over the two of you as you walk and wander through Eridia. Seeing the Amaryllis District's colorful decorations from the celebrations before, sensing the strong smell of fried dough and hearing the shouts of vendors from the stalls, tasting some swirly eridian desert with cinnamon in it (though Kuras seemed to lose the pastry the moment he hold it, leaving you confused as you did not even see him take a bite) the night came to a calm point. 

So far you had discussed about Eridia, how you had somewhat adapted to the city, the celebration yesterday, and certain interesting things you noticed in Kuras’s practice. The conversation gave itself away to peaceful silence as you stood on the bridge between Hightown and Lowtown. Somewhere far in Hightown, you could hear the faint sound of a lute being played. The nights were much less chaotic here. 

“So, how old are you now?”

“Old.” 

“Oh come on, I know that already-”

“Oh are you saying I look old?”

“Kuras!” 

He chuckles to himself as he leans on one of the statues. The night is clear, the stars are bright, and the wind is gentler than it was that afternoon. You take out the pouch and the letter, holding them out to Kuras.

“Happy birthday, Kuras. I hope this year is better than the previous ones.” 

Kuras’s gaze meets your own, his golden eyes and jewelry contrasting the bright moonlight, his hair ticking his face and neck. Kuras looks almost glowing as he takes the items from your hands. “You didn’t need to.” “It was about wanting to. And I did. But please read that letter when I’m not around.” you scratched your neck and looked back at the sky. Kuras blinked, once looking at his full hands and then at you. Suddenly choosing to move much closer to you, until his white coat is touching the warm wool of the cloak he got you when you first came to Eridia. 

“Thank you. (Y/N). I have lost track of my many birthdays, but your presence makes this celebration one to remember.” 

…It felt quite warm all of a sudden. 

[finchly-tintinnabulation]

- Scout's Honor - Part 4

Original Ultramarine (Aristaeus) x GN!Reader

<<Prev = Next>>

Tags: SMUT, fluff, cuddling, intercrural sex, reader being affected by bond nonsense, Aristaeus is a big virgin be nice to him

Thank you to @candyswirls for the cuddling headcanons, @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond for reminding me why Aristaeus has big brown eyes like a baby cow, and @daily-shenanigans784 for the beta read WE FUCK 4 MACRAGGE

The Chorus: @thisuserislilsilly

- - -

Your hand flew to the side of your neck, the low ache of the mark stinging anew as your face grew hot. Were there details you had missed, or more likely were omitted for the sake of a professional documentation?

“Come on, you absolutely reek of him.” Diomedes teased, but there was a gentleness in his tone, especially with how alarmed you looked. It was clear enough that you and the Astartes had been given different levels of information about their unusual bodily processes. “I’m sure he’s absolutely dying for you to return the favor. At the very least I’ve heard it can help with a… temporary lack of proximity.”

You smelled stressed. Something clicked into place remembering Aristaeus’s concern. The Astartes had incredibly enhanced sensory capability, being able to track a scent like a bloodhound across a burning battlefield, and read emotions by the subtle cues of baseline hormones. Oddly enough it made sense that the intensely instinctual nature of a bond would be so tied to those primal senses.

“Chin up, Brother! We can show your little human how to make a proper nest, they’re going to be part of the squadron anyway.” Reaching across the table to where Aristaeus sat with his face in his hands, Pallas patted him on the shoulder. Hilariously his ears were flushed as pink as your face felt, and you bit your tongue before accidentally embarrassing him further.

-

Staying alert was a vicious fight that you were rapidly losing, the contentment of being enveloped by warm bodies irresistibly washing over you. The life of a serf was hard labor and strictly rationed rest, so you had little hope of resisting the lure of an afternoon nap. Once finishing lunch, Diomedes had wasted no time dragging Aristaeus off to your now shared room while Pallas went to fetch materials; an armful of well worn blankets and threadbare cushions all in the same Ultramarine blue. It wasn’t hard to imagine generations of neophytes being comforted by these simple amenities

Pulling out your little mattress, the two scouts cheerfully began constructing the nest, something they had been taught to comfort each other. Even without a bond, rut made the Astartes clingy, so they had been instructed to keep their squadmates close. Speaking of clingy, while Aristaeus had resigned himself to Pallas and Diomedes and their help, he sat on his cot and watched them work, keeping you cradled defensively in his lap.

That was where you stayed, even once all three Astartes had settled themself in their pile of soft things, with your head tucked under Aristaeus’s chin and his squadmates snuggled up against either side of him. There was absolutely no hope of escaping with an assortment of enormous arms and legs wrapped around you, but what was the point when it was so very comfortable. All three scouts let out low rumbling vocalizations, something you now recognized as analogous to purring, turning your nerves and thoughts to white noise.

Eyelids heavy, a drowsy sense of curiosity had you shifting slightly, burying your face in the sinewy crook of Aristaeus’s neck. You had nowhere near the senses of an Astartes, but the hind-brained thought of your mate’s scent had you breathing him in. The chemical smell of his enhanced physiology hit your nose like ozone, but it was only for a moment before being superseded by something more warm and sweet, spices and musk and smoke. Somehow you didn’t mind the odd metallic aftertaste of it, knowing it was him.

Is this what he had marked you with? Besides the physical bites, of course. Some signal that you were his, and… you wanted others to know Aristaeus was yours, as well. You hummed, nuzzling against where you could feel the thrum of his hearts pulsing through his carotid artery, his purr trilling as you pressed your lips to it.

Marking him. Without a second thought you sank your teeth into his skin, sucking at his flesh to taste the honeyed tang of his pheromones. Warm and blissful, your mouth tingling as a whine slipped from Aristaeus’s throat, faintly feeling something pressed against your backside. 

“Get out. Both of you, out.” Aristaeus muttered hoarsely, his voice a pleasant buzz to your ears. It took a moment once the enveloping warmth subsided that you seemed to properly rouse, realizing that Pallas and Diomedes were standing and Aristaeus’s purr had become a growl. Had you fallen asleep? It certainly felt like you were awakening from a nap.

“We were getting comfortable, what’s—”

“I said out.” Oh dear.

There was no more arguing as the two scouts hurriedly took their leave, shutting the door behind them, and you finally registered the feeling of embarrassment. You’d seriously just bitten him. Were you about to be punished?

“Sorry…” Aristaeus whined in your ear, and suddenly his bid for privacy took on a much different meaning. What had been pressing against your rear was now rubbing, the marine’s hips twitching as if trying and failing to keep still.

“Uh. What for?” You replied dumbly as the hands that had been wrapped around your torso slid down to grip your hips. You may have had an inkling of what he was apologizing for, and you turned to try and get a better view of his face.

“...I need—” His words were bitten off by a whine as he forcibly tried to loosen his hold on you, face flushed and eyes squeezed shut. “You are so small, I was warned of… harming you. I can’t do it, I’m bigger than you, I don’t know how to—” Never in your life did you think you’d hear a space marine sound scared, but Aristaeus was downright afraid, his deep voice so unsure.

“Oh, Ari.” What sort of sex ed did they give the Adeptus Astartes? Whatever crash course Aristaeus had been absorbed clearly hadn’t prepared him for the act of intercourse, and that was even more disastrous when the poor scout was so immediately needy. Internal damage was also not on your schedule for today, so you tried to think quickly. “...You know you don’t have to go inside, right?”

“I don’t?” Right, so that’s a no. Gently you brushed his hands off your hips, to which he hesitantly obliged, hooking your thumbs into the waistband of your trousers and shimmying them down, trying to ignore the choking whimper Aristaeus let out at the sight.

“Between my thighs should provide enough friction. Since you seem to… like them?” You chuckled shyly recalling your first meeting, kicking off your pants and undergarments in one go and shifting off his lap. “Let’s… lay on your side, please.”

“Emperor forgive me.” Aristaeus’s voice was small and harsh, but again he did as he was told, shifting down in the nest and waiting as patiently as he physically could for your next move. Carefully you lay in front of him, not quite slotting yourself against him yet but feeling his body heat radiating against your bare backside.

“...Pull your pants down.” Your voice cracked, feeling him move before you finished your sentence and subsequently punctuating it with something hot and hard slapping against the small of your back. Hands shaking, you tugged the hem of your tunic up and out of the way, lifting your knee by way of invitation for him to… arrange himself.

Hot and heavy, Aristaeus slid himself between your thighs, hovering there for an unbearable moment before pressing you to his body. He was already leaking, dripping thick clear precum onto your skin, the tip flushed so red it seemed to glow with heat. His cock pulsed and he shuddered, as if overwhelmed by the mere touch of your skin, moaning as he pressed his face into your hair.

“Nnh… oh, by the Light…”

Neither of you needed any more encouragement as you squeezed your legs around his shaft, shifting your hips to grind against it, your own arousal growing rapidly. Aristaeus mirrored your movements, small and slow and a bit nervous, following your lead. Back and forth, gauging a rhythm as his leaking tip began to make the space between your thighs slick, gliding like silk. He thrusted forward as you pushed back, your breaths growing heavy in tandem.

That wetness combined with a briefly found tempo finally bore fruit, as the lewd smack of skin on skin met your ears, and Aristaeus was pushed past his anxiety to pure unadulterated need. Gasping, his arms tightened around you like a vice as his hips slammed forward, relentlessly pistoning as a torrent of cries and broken prayers spilled from his throat.

His lips found the junction of your neck again, but instead of his teeth the touch was his soft heated mouth, sloppy ministrations hardly silencing his pleas. The slapping of his hips to yours was growing almost deafening, thrusting so hard it practically knocked the breath from your lungs, struggling to get enough air between that and the fierce hold he had around your chest. The force and friction made your head spin, relentlessly humping up against your groin.

Drooling against your nape, Aristaeus’s words dissolved into a cacophony of pants and groans, his pace lost in favor of desperation. Breathless and dizzy, you barely had time to recognize how close he was, subsequently realizing the mess you were both about to make. You clumsily grabbed a blanket, attempting to cover your crotch just as Aristaeus tipped over the edge with shuddering wail.

Flushed and with your hands covered in spend, you felt struck dumb as stillness suddenly fell over you, the only sound being the shared ragged breathing of you and your mate. Warm, listening to the faint buzz of the machinery tucked into the fortress-monastery’s walls, just breathing.

A large hand gently gripped your shoulder, turning you gently to see Aristaeus looking at you with those big concerned brown eyes. Then, cupping your face, he kissed you. Soft and thankful.

[hanluex]

♡ I LOVE YOU — KIM GUNWOO

bf!gunwoo x gn!reader | wc : 0.6k words | content : possible grammar and spelling mistakes, lowercase intended, fluff, established relationship | loki's lines — here is my bloodhounds debut, hope y’all enjoy! follow @geonwooz for more!

“jagiya, look here. i'll take your picture!”

gunwoo smiled, always excited to snap your pictures whenever you two went out on your little dates.

it was a hobby of his; to take as many pictures of you as he could every time you two went out.

you shook your head, moving out of the camera frame, before looking at your boyfriend with a disgruntled expression.

“jagiya, what’s wrong?”

“i don’t have any pictures of you.”

a confused pout appeared on gunwoo’s face, and it took your all to not just squish his cheeks and kiss him then and there.

“but what does that have to do with me taking your picture?” he asked softly, his phone now in his pocket, as he moved closer to you.

you couldn’t help but smile at his words, finding him absolutely endearing. “you always take pictures of me, but i never get to take any of yours,” you explained.

gunwoo shrugged, still pouting. “you know i don’t like cameras, jagi,” he stated, a fact you already knew before he even shared it.

“yeah, but i don’t have any pictures of you to look at when i miss you.”

“oh.”

“you have tons of pictures of me,” you continued, unaware of how your words reddened your boyfriend’s cheeks. “but i only have that one picture of you in front of your mother’s new café.”

gunwoo chuckled, knowing there was no way out of an argument with you. “okay, okay. you can take a picture of me then,” he mumbled, standing awkwardly.

a gleeful laugh left your lips as you clapped, excited to finally take a proper picture of your boyfriend — aka snap your soon-to-be lock screen.

kim gunwoo smiled to himself as he watched you place your hand on his shoulders, pushing him into his position as you checked for a pleasant background.

technically, he moved as you pushed him because there was no way you would’ve been able to nudge him out of place by yourself.

with a wide grin, you took a couple of steps back, absolutely pleased with how everything looked on camera. well, almost everything. the only thing that seemed out of place was the frown on your boyfriend’s face.

“gunwoo-ya. are you standing next to kim myeonggil?” you asked, brows furrowed at the way he was looking at the camera.

the brunet looked around, confused as to why you asked him that. “no?” he carefully answered, wondering why you were sulking.

“then why do you look like it’s the worst day of your life? smile a little, please!”

gunwoo took a deep breath, following your commands as he cracked a smile, and posed for the camera; however, even that didn’t seem to satisfy you.

he was smiling so naturally all this time when we were together; why does he get awkward when the camera is on him?

“i look awkward, don’t i, jagiya?” gunwoo asked, realizing his awkwardness was definitely showing with the way he posed.

he wasn’t used to posing for photos like this, and it definitely showed, but of course, being his girlfriend, you weren’t about to give up on him like that.

“nope, not at all. you look great.”

“ah, okay, then.”

“gunwoo-ya,” you called gently, getting your boyfriend’s attention. “i love you.”

as cheeky as your method was, the result absolutely warmed your heart.

as soon as he heard those words, kim gunwoo broke into the soft smile you were always used to seeing, his eyes shaped like little crescents with the way he smiled too hard.

you quickly snapped the picture, quickly running to your boyfriend to show him the result.

gunwoo never knew anyone could be so excited to take his photo, and he only found himself falling for you harder when he saw you immediately make his picture your lock screen.

you looked at your boyfriend, smiling widely as you showed him your phone, unaware of the thoughts that were running through his mind.

before you could even process it, gunwoo placed his lips upon yours, capturing them in a chaste kiss, replying to the words you told him earlier.

“and i love you.”

TAGLIST: TO BE ADDED, PLEASE DM OR COMMENT OR SEND AN ASK :)