#both of these were supposed to be low stress paintings

[maareyas]

the deep sea probes seem to have picked up more footage of unknown creatures! rip to the first one, it got broken apart

a spiritual sequel to this! featuring @son1c ‘s Bermuda/No Place Shadow, and @genotaurus Dismas ✨ I was in a merhog mood, what can I say?

[macabr3-barbi3]

CTRL ALT DELETE- Task Manager (Vox/Reader)

Something's up with Vox and you offer to help troubleshoot- it both does and does not go how you're expecting it to.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54688282

The least serious thing I've ever written: inspired by the time i started a timer in class one day to see how long my teacher talked about her son instead of teaching us; i ended up realizing 4 months later that i never stopped the timer and it was just running in the background and making my shit slow that entire time lmao there's a screenshot in the ao3 notes

Tags: Stress Relief, Sexual Tension, Chair Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Begging, Computers. Dirty Talk, very basic knowledge of computers

<3<3<3<3<3<3

Your new boss seemed stressed. 

Not in the usual way that he was stressed, either- the note from the assistant you had replaced was that usually when Vox was having an off day he would call for Valentino or have you pull a list of low earners for the month, banishing you from the room in either case. But he hadn’t spent any time with Val in months, basically the entire time that you’d been working with him as a personal assistant after getting promoted from a stage grunt for the news channel.

You had thought for a bit that he might make a move- that maybe that was why he promoted you, that he was charmed enough by you to end the on/off thing he had going on with Val, which made sense based on the timing. But when you tested that theory recently- made double entendres, brushed your hands against his arms or leg or back, blatantly invited him out for dinner and drinks- he didn’t seem interested. He declined your invite, allowed you to touch him without being overcome with lust, and the sex jokes just seemed to go whoosh. 

Right over his head. 

He was on edge and twitchy. He took longer to respond to things than he normally did, his processors slow, occasionally getting a ‘buffering’ message that flashed across his screen when someone asked a question. His hypnotic eye seemed to be suffering as well, the swirls having slowed down now to the point that they were no more mesmerizing than watching paint dry. It was frustrating and enraging him, and in turn frustrating you- he was fucking hot when he was angry, which didn’t help your attraction to him that he was ignoring. 

He was sitting at his desk in the control room when you entered, head in his hands as he stared at a piece of paper on his desk. The monitors were all lit behind him, showing recorded footage of the Tower throughout the day- you spotted a short recording of yourself talking to some of the marketing team a few hours ago. Like a Valentino caricature he read the paper, blinked his eyes a couple times, read it again. Picked it up and pulled it closer to his face like that would help, and his screen scrolled the words along the bottom like his internal system was trying to transcribe it so something he could understand. He finally dropped the paper with a groan, letting it flutter to the floor where it slipped under his chair and stopped just before you. 

“Are you okay, sir?” The question is out before you can stop it, and as was the normal recently it took a few minutes for him to answer. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he muttered, swiveling around to look at you. He clutched the sides of his screen, eyes narrowed and mouth delayed in its movements as he spoke. “I feel like I can’t focus on anything. I can’t process anything. My- just, fucking everything is slow and useless in my head right now! How am I supposed to be a master media manipulator when I can’t fucking concentrate for more than two minutes at a time?”

“You have seemed more… stressed than usual,” you agree. “Are none of your usual relaxing activities helping? Or have you done any troubleshooting?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“Troubleshooting,” you say again, and at his blank stare you chuckle a little. “You know, doing a couple ‘quick fix’ things to see if that’s what’s causing the problem. Do you have like, a cache or something that you have to clear? An archive dump to get rid of old files?” You let your eyes track his body from top to bottom. “I’m not super familiar with how your… anatomy works?”

God, but you wanted to be.

He blinks a couple times. “I think I used to have someone that did that for me,” he says. “Years ago. I fired them because it didn’t seem necessary, I was running perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, well, that might be what the problem is.” You offer him a soft smile. “Sometimes stuff will work in sub-optimal conditions for a while before it starts causing issues. I used to do programming customer support when I was alive- it’s been a while but I could take a look if you want?”

His mouth twists in a frown. “I guess so,” he agrees. “I’m desperate enough to try anything. I need to be able to fucking concentrate if the Vees are gonna stay on top, everyone fucking knows that Val is hopeless with the business aspect of everything.” He gets the buffering symbol on his screen for a few seconds, groaning and shaking his head as he clears. “What do you need access to?”

“Do you have a way to access your… system? Externally,” you clarify. “I’m not a surgeon- I don’t plan on cutting into you to get to anything.”

Vox gestures behind him. “I can hook up to the monitors,” he says, “but we’ll have to be pretty close, doll. I have to be sitting here to be hooked up, and since this is the only chair, looks like this will have to be your seat.” He pats a hand on his thighs, not so much an invitation as a statement.

You fucking wished. You know this isn’t him trying to initiate anything though- you’d been trying for long enough that you’re ready to give it up and just accept that your hot, overlord boss didn’t want to fuck you. Helping him out felt more important than that anyway, so you would do your best.

“You got it,” you say, and cross the remaining space to perch yourself gracefully on his lap. You push the inappropriate thoughts about how firm his muscles are underneath you- how exactly did this man’s body work? Was it really just his head that was not organic matter?- and let him rotate the chair back to face the monitors.

The sight is intimidating, as is the position- you’re surrounded by reflections of yourself from every angle, Vox’s lithe frame seated behind you. This is where he does most of his business, the background site of everything that VoxTec handles. And he’s trusting you to help him fix whatever is wrong with him so he can get back to handling all of that, free of distraction.

You watch as thick wires come up from the floor to plug into the back of his head, the sharp hiss making you wonder if it was painful or intrusive. You won’t ask though, not when you’re getting ready to try to restore him to his usual ruthless self; he might consider that to be prying.

He pulls something up on the main monitor, the one that sits directly across from you, and waves a hand to it. A little keyboard and mouse emerge from the desk as the monitor powers on, and when you glance back you can see the same thing reflected on his face. “Have at it,” you hear him say, even though you can’t see his mouth moving.

Ignoring his open programs for the time being in case he needs any of them, the first thing you do is go in and clear his archived files. He’s got entire terabytes of useless information; employee records for people that have been dead or fired for decades; funny videos that he saved; resources for old news stories that are no longer relevant. Some of it you help him upload to a cloud server- after explaining to him what a cloud server is- and create files to designate for actual important shit.

You find the internal browser that he uses to pull information on the fly and help him clear the cache and cookies.

You help him sort security footage from Vee Tower and get rid of stuff that wasn’t actually necessary, like the short bits of static and dead air that happened whenever he used the cameras to teleport around the building. Everything that he has saved about mentions of that fucking radio demon also goes into the garbage. There are some files you can’t access, things like his memories and day to day recordings of conversations and things that he personally is part of. 

You delete what you can and empty the recycling bin.

As the process has gone on, Vox has relaxed more and more behind you. “I still don’t feel completely back to normal,” he murmurs, “but this is already loads better. It’s like a massage directly on my brain. You know, if I still physically had one.”

You hit the keys to open his task manager- CTRL ALT DELETE. “Unholy fuck- Jesus, sir, if you thought that was good this is gonna feel orgasmic,” you say absently, scrolling through the opens apps and programs that he has running. Has this man ever closed anything? You hadn’t realized a person or device could even have so many things going at once. “Do you just leave everything open in the background?”

He peers around your shoulder, bracing his hands on your hips as he sits up a little straighter. The movement causes your stomach to drop, arousal threatening to make itself known, but you push the notion down as he sets his hands back on the arms of the chair. “I guess so?” He watches you scroll through the extensive list. “I guess it just never occurred to me to close them. Opening the programs to use is just like my stream of consciousness I suppose.”

“Kay, well, that’s stopping now.” You click on the first item on the list- VoxtaGram. “I recommend closing non-essential stuff out at least once a month. More, if you have the time to go through everything. For now, just in case, there is something important we’re gonna go through some of the more recently opened things, set them up to open automatically when you start up, before we reboot your system- wait, can we reboot your system entirely without killing you?”

“No worries there, dear. I can, I just haven’t done it in years because it can take a while to start back up afterwards.” He sneers at the social media page. “You can close that shit. Any of Velvette’s crap she can handle on her own. Same with any of the fucking games that Val loads up when he’s bored- can I delete those entirely? Or block them? Fucking moth and his blue-light addiction…”

You get through a lot of the list, Vox kind of dozing off and only passively participating in the process. You’ve got the gist of it; things like his news sources, contacts list and phone, and the notes app are staying open and set to automatically launch when he does reboot and start back up. Pretty much everything else is closed out, things he pulled up for two seconds weeks ago to check on something or another before abandoning it. You’re making excellent progress when the next thing on the list gives you pause.

“Vox? Why is this- oh my god.” You can’t help it- you start laughing, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder as you look at what’s now displayed on the screen.

A stopwatch had apparently been started and never stopped. The elapsed time was over three thousand hours, which came out to something like four months if your mental math was correct. He had had this running constantly in the background since you had started working for him, possibly even before. “I think I found the problem,” you chuckled, and his eyes were narrowed as he looked at the timer continuing to tick. “What is this?”

“What the actual fuck?” He buffers for a second- and you’re pleased to note that it’s already much faster than it has been lately- before you hear a dinging sound coming from him. ‘Fucking Hell, I should have known this was all Valentino’s fault.” He drags a clawed hand down his screen in an imitation of a facepalm. “I was timing him. He was fucking ranting about Angel Dust again while we were in a strategy meeting with Velvette- I had the stopwatch going to see how much of the hour session he wasted talking about that whore. I must have forgotten to turn it off.” He barks out a laugh, throwing his head back with the force of it while you look at him with amusement. “I’m gonna owe you big time for this, doll, you’re a lifesaver.”

You close the app out with a smile. “Just trying to help,” you say. “I think that was probably the worst of it- do you want to just try rebooting now?”

He lets out a groan when the app closes, and the sound shoots through your body straight to your core. “Go for it, hun,” he says, eyes closed as he leans back against the chair. “I think I’m good to go now, but it can’t hurt. You were right, sorting this shit out feeling fucking good.”

You’re suddenly very aware of the dampness of your panties as you bypass ‘kinda horny’ straight to ‘fuck me on this desk.’ You scold yourself mentally: Don’t jump your boss. He’s trusting you to help him right now- do not take advantage of that. Do not ride his leg like you very clearly want to because his voice is fucking hot. Fucking focus.

You clear your throat, closing out the task manager and hitting the button to restart him. “See you in a bit, sir.”

You stay seated on his lap just in case- he might still have something he wants you to do when he comes back online, some settings you could apply to close out things that are used for more than a week or so. It’s definitely not because you like the feeling of his strong thigh underneath you, tantalizingly close to your cunt if you, by chance, decided to tilt your hips forward and start grinding down on him. 

After just a few minutes get a message on the main monitor telling you to wait a moment- things start popping up on the other screens surrounding the central one, and it takes you a moment to recognize the pattern.

Its all videos of you- shot from Vox’s perspective, and a mortifying blush takes over your face. They’re all the moments that you had tried coming onto him. The innuendos and subtle entendres, the times that you touched him, pressed yourself against him in a tight space despite having another way to get to the copy machine, when you had invited him out for dinner. There’s also videos where he had just been watching you, apparently, taken from a distance as you spoke with Velvette or passed instructions along to a member of the team or discreetly tried to hide behind a vending machine when you noticed  Val coming into a room. 

There’s a satisfied grumble behind you, and before you can turn to look at him Vox has settled his claws onto either side of your waist and shifted you over a bit, to rest directly on the erection straining his pants. 

Which is a surprise, albeit a pleasant one.

“Thanks for the reset, doll,” he says, and his voice is a quiet growl as he lets his hands wander from your waist to your hips and back again, claw tipped fingers catching on the fabric. “I got a chance to look at some files while I was under and found quite the treat in your logs.”

This could either be very bad or very, very good. “Sir-”

“You know, I’m usually pretty good at picking up what a woman is putting down. Imagine my surprise when I realize you’ve been coming onto me for weeks and my shit was so fucked up and bogged down that I didn’t even notice. Like that?” He uses one hand to point to a screen in the far left of the central monitor, while he snaked his other hand down to rest on your thigh, his hand large enough to encompass the muscle at the edge of your skirt. On the screen, you had come to his office to drop off meeting notes for something you attended on his behalf. You had dropped the stack as you came around his side of the desk, and got down fully on your knees to pick them up, glancing up at him through your lashes. You blush watching it now- it had seemed obvious to you even then, but watching it now, the way that Vox had seen it? When he didn’t say anything about you being face level with his prick you had used a hand on his thigh to brace yourself to stand up, letting your fingers run along the inner seam of his trousers when you rose back to standing. Still no reaction, and you had left his office equal parts turned on and irritated with yourself. Him not having acted on it had been the final nail in the coffin cementing the fact that he was not interested in the slightest.

You let out a weak exhale as the Vox sitting under you gets his other hand in the same position as the first, using his grip to ever so slightly spread your legs on his lap. He lets his fingers skim your inner thighs and you shake with the effort of not begging him to just touch you. This was delicious, agonizing torture.

“Had I been in my right mind for that display, baby, I would have fucking ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧd̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓ y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡.” His voice crackles and glitches on the last words, and the sound of it forces a moan from your throat as you let your head fall back. You clutch your hands to the arms of the chair as his tongue- and who even really knew he had a tongue, what the fuck?- licks down the side of your jaw and at your exposed neck. “I would have had you choking on my cock before getting a taste of that sweet cunt and fucking you into the desk for hours.”

One hand finally slips under the edge of your skirt and you shiver when his fingers make contact with your soaked core. “Is that what you want now, babygirl? You want me to give you my cock as thanks for helping to set me straight? To make up for lost time?” He slides a finger under the thin material of your panties, groaning in your ear at how slick he finds you. “That’s what I want, doll. I want you to ride me so hard you go stupid with the feeling, and you never feel whole without some part of me in your cunt for the rest of for-fucking- ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧv̹̹̘̼̞̻͆ͩ̓ͪ͢ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟.”

“Fuck, please,” you gasp out, the word devolving into a cry as Vox finally slides a finger into you, mindful of the claws as he pushes in and quickly follows the first with a second. He uses his free hand to hold your hips still as you try to grind into his digits, keeps you held firmly against his erection as you squirm in pleasure.

His sharp fingertips angle to prod gently at a spot inside of you that has you seeing stars; your eyes are clenched shut as you ride the feeling, so close to the edge you feel like you’re going to implode with the force of it when you finally tip over. “Fuck, sir, please, so c-close,” you mumble, and his tongue is back to licking at whatever parts of your skin it can reach.

“You wanna come like this, sweetheart?” The main monitor in front of you glitches out, and when it comes back into focus you see yourself on the screen- like a mirror, you’re reflected, and you can see Vox’s grinning face behind you. Your skin is flushed, sweat dripping down your face, the hint of tears along your lashline as your mouth drops open when he adds a third finger. “Look fuckin’ beautiful, baby, you were made for this- maybe we give Valentino a call, he could-”

“No!” You release the arms of the chair to grab onto his wrists where his hands meet your body. “No one- no one but you, sir. Vox, please, l- let me come. Please?” You let a little whine into your voice, and you can see the way his mouth goes lax and his eyes laser-focus on where you’re grabbing at his hands.

“I didn’t mean to join us, dollface, just to record- but you’re right, you’re right.” He pulls his fingers from your pussy, slicing the center of your panties in the process before he brings his digits to his mouth- you watch on the screen as he curls his tongue around each one, licks the flavor of you from his skin and glitches out at the taste. “How could I possibly share such a fucking vision with anyone else?

He shifts you to one side so he can get his dick out, and the sight of it in the monitor, his own arousal beading at the top and rock hard, has you whimpering before it’s even inside of you. He carried himself like a man with a big cock, but Christ.

“Hope you like what you see, hun, cause it’s all yours.” He scoots forward in the seat, tilts his hips forward for the right angle, and moves you back into your previous position with ease- this time, the tip of him is pushing inside you, and you watch in the monitor as you sink inch by glorious inch onto him.

Once you’re fully seated, Vox seems to lose capability for rational thought. “Fuck me, you’re perfect,” he moans, bracing his feet more firmly on the ground to thrust up into you, getting a firm grasp on your hips to pull you down into it. The result is a beautiful stab at that sweet spot inside of you that makes you clench and cry out, watching Vox’s hypnotic eye start spiraling at its normal speed on the screen, and you can see backwards scrolling text of his stream of thoughts- a bunch of nonsensical letters and cuss words interspersed with your name. “I want to fucking- chain you to my desk so I can have this perfect pussy whenever I want it. Fuck, I can’t believe we- we could have been doing this for weeks.” He punctuates his sentence with a hard thrust.

“A-all the more reason to regularly clear your task manager, sir,” you say, so caught up in the feeling of him railing you from below that you can hardly believe you formed a coherent thought. He feels so fucking good and you’re a hair trigger away from collapsing and wringing him for all he’s got.

With one quick movement he’s shifted, and there’s a hand on your throat arching you backwards at the same time that he gets a couple clawed fingers rubbing at your clit. The shock of the combination makes you flutter around his length, a choked noise escaping your throat before he tightens his grip- not enough to really cut off your air supply, but enough that your brain starts going soft and mushy and the vice grip your cunt has on his cock gets impossibly tighter. You can see the shine of your slick arousal coating him every time he pulls out to rut back into you, and the sights and sounds are threatening to rip you into the chasm of ecstasy that you’re flirting with. 

“Vox,” you whine, “please, I’m so fucking- please please please-“ 

“Christ, babygirl, whatever you fucking want.” His eyes are wide and frantic as they watch the place you’re joined, his mouth set in a snarl as he fucks into your pliant body. The cry you release is nothing short of agonized- it’s so fucking close you can taste it, nearly overwhelmed with the tension.

“You wanna fucking cum on my cock? Do it, angel, let me see it- come on, baby, cum for me-“

Your walls clench down hard as you reach your orgasm, Vox’s grip on your throat making your vision and mind go fuzzy with the force of it as you choke on a moan that tries to escape your tensed muscles. You’re distantly aware of Vox thrusting hard into you, more praise and curses falling from his lips as he hits his peak as well, pressing his screen to the side of your face when he relinquishes his handle on your throat to clutch at your hips and grind into your cunt as he spills inside of you. The aftershocks of your release leave you twitching, milking his cock of everything he has to offer before he collapses into the chair behind you, a boneless pile of a man now simply running his hands over any bit of skin he could reach. 

It’s truly a testament to how helpful the reset and reboot had been that Vox’s system doesn’t simply crash. “Fucking Hell, I haven’t felt this good in decades,” he mutters in your ear, and you shiver at the feeling of his tongue brushing the sensitive skin.

“Ha, you think that’s the reboot or the mind-melting orgasms?”

He hums contentedly. “Jury’s out on that, doll. Guess we’ll have to do a re-run on both and see how it stacks up to this one.”

“I’ll make sure to schedule some time out for it,” you chuckle before fixing him with a stern glare through the monitor. “I’m serious about clearing your apps and shit more frequently though. Christ, you had decades of backed up shit open-“

“Don’t berate me while my dick is still inside you, fuck.” He leans you forward far enough to pull out, and you grimace at the feeling of his cum starting to spill back out of you. He notices the expression though- “Whoops, sorry,” he says, and after a quick second during which he tucks his softening prick away he scoops you into his arms, standing from the chair and stepping away from the desk. “Let’s get you cleaned up at the penthouse, angel, what do you say?”

“If you’re carrying me then lead the way.” You gesture towards the door out of the control room. “Just don’t start any timers to see how long it takes to get there or anything and we should be good.”

The glare he fixes you with shouldn’t be hot, but it fucking is. “Hardy har,” he deadpans, and rolls his eyes while he stalks towards the elevator, control room door closing behind you; but there’s a small smile on his screen despite his ire and he’s functioning normally, and when you see the little stopwatch icon pop up in the bottom right corner of his face and start counting, you can’t help but laugh.

[anachronismstellar]

SQH x YQY 👀 I wanna see your take so bad

Hmmmm Tbh what I imagine is something like-

---

They were both working quietly, the meeting long finished, the only sounds the tec tec tec of Shang Qinghua's abacus as the peak lord moved the wooden pieces up and down, pausing from time to time to take notes.

Having just finished a report, Yue Qingyuan couldn't help but turn his eyes to his shidi, noticing his focused expression as Shang Qinghua mumbled numbers upon numbers under his breath. It never failed to impress him how fast the other was able to add ridiculously high numbers, or how Shang-shidi seemed to look at one artifact and know how much it was worth.

Another thing that Yue Qingyuan could appreciate was his efficiency. No matter how much the other peak lords brushed off his forms and failed to hand them on time, Shang Qinghua seemed to know everything that had been used or collected from their missions, as if he had eyes and ears everywhere. It made Yue Qingyuan grateful for his Shidi loyalty, otherwise they would be in a huge amount of trouble.

"Whatever it is that is making Zhangmen-Shixiong stare this much instead of asking, the answer is no, we have just finished with the annual budget, we can't change it," Shang Qinghua said without taking his eyes from the paper in front of him, making Yue Qingyuan chuckle.

"I was just admiring Shang-shidi's skill. You have very nimble fingers," he complimented as he put his own brush down. A small pause would do them good, they had been working for hours now. He was about to stand up to start the tea when Shang Qinghua snorted, a "You should see what else they could," low enough for Yue Qingyuan to realize he wasn't supposed to hear that, but loud enough for him to not have misheard.

The following pause was loud by itself, like the quiet before the thunder.

"I should go," Shang-shidi started to gather all the paper he had just written down, ruining many reports with smeared ink, color crawing up his neck until his whole face was beet red.

"Shang-"

"I just remembered I had a meeting with uh Shen- With Liu-shidi! Yes! And it wouldn't be good to leave him waiting so-"

While Shang Qinghua rushed to grab everything, Yue Qingyuan got closer, gently taking the papers from his hands, holding back his amusement. It wouldn't be kind to laugh at his shidi, even though his flustering was a bit funny.

Yue Qingyuan had a sense of humor, his job just made it hard to demonstrate it.

"Shang-shidi is fine, just got me off guard, that's all. I didn't know shidi had such... Inclinations."

"I mean, with all due respect Zhangmen-Shixiong, you're very handsome man, and you were kinda staring at me like that, then you made that comment, it's hard to not think you were, y'know, making a move, but I'll shut up now, we can pretend this never happened, and-"

Yue Qingyuan's felt his own face getting warmer. It had been a while since someone had been so honest with him, it felt refreshing.

He thought of judging eyes over a painted fan, his heart skipping a beat as he swallowed dry.

"What if I don't wanna pretend?" He heard himself say, and then it was his turn to blush as Shang Qinghua eyebrows rose all the way up to his hairline, warm brown eyes blown wide with surprise.

"Uh- I-"

"I apologize, Shang-shidi, this one didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he whispered as he went to take a step back. They're both stressed and it was getting late, maybe they should wrap it up for the day-

Bitten nails softly scrapped his cheek as the scent of ink filled his senses. He turned his face towards Shang Qinghua, surprised by warm lips against his as a strong hand pulled him closer to an embrace. For many seconds, it had been a chaste press of mouths until he dared to bite down Shang Qinghua's lower lip, chasing the taste of jasmine tea they had been drinking earlier, the heat crawling down from his face all the way to his chest. Shang Qinghua's warmth an addicting feeling as the An Ding Peak lord worked on his robes, opening them with an impressive speed.

And then, hours later, with both of them panting, sweat cooling down their skin, Yue Qingyuan laughed as he kissed Shang-shidi's hand.

"Nimble fingers indeed."

[lif3lessb0dy]

₊˚⊹ ೀ rafayel

╰┈➤ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ headcanon; rafayel falling in love with you

cw; he's a dumbass, jealous but won't admit it, cursing, kinda love confession?? idk, just some fluff for my rafayel girlies ;333

for a long time he didn't understand what's going on

or he just didn't want to admit that to himself lmao

he found himself looking at you and your face for a little longer than he was supposed to. hmm her lips have really beautiful shape... WHAT THE FUCK, NO, WHAT AM I THINKING ABOUT?

him being brave whenever you’re in danger or would come close to it, putting himself at risk to protect you and always surprising you with how much strength he actually has

„hey, do you really need me to be your bodyguard? I see that you're doing great”

„i only saw what you couldn't cuz u were doing amazing job and I just kinda helped” he smiled proudly but after a while faked injury to make you laugh

he admires how determined u are with fighting wanderers, how you squint when opponent has dodged your attack

he would bring you many gifts from the places he visited, thomas was shocked when rafayel was complaining about the weight of luggage cuz he didn't bring many things with him but returned with second suitcase

many times he would find himself staring at some thing, wanting to get it for you but not being sure if he should expose how much he care about you

well, he isn't good at hiding this anyway

he doesn't like painting people but he kinda likes sketching your face when he's alone

when you're at work he could just stare at his phone waiting for some message, that was really weird cuz often he doesn't remember about phone

jealousy... he saw how you got along with thomas. thousands of thoughts ran through his mind. should i distance myself? maybe she doesn't appreciate my presence as I do hers? maybe I should give her mission with me just to spent some time with her? nah, I don't want to force this. but I want her to smile like that when she's with me

each accidental touch sent waves of heat through his body. when lemurians are in love their senses are committed to perceive their loved ones. your scent, touch, voice... he didn't even realize how much it affects him until he could experience you triggering all of his senses

i think that was the time he realized that he actually fell for you

you offered him a visit at your apartment, after a while you both were sitting on a couch and watching some movie. when you were laughing you placed your hand on his knee then rested head on his shoulder. he could smell your perfume mixed with his own scent, feel your warm touch on his cold skin, hear your low-pitched voice next to his ear... god it was so nice to have you so close

he didn't even notice when he wrapped his arm around you

when you simply hugged him, moving your head to his chest, he knew you could probably hear his heart beating loudly. it seemed to him that it was a simple gesture, even though at that time you were so stressed and didn't know what to do because you were afraid that you would go too far and expose your feelings towards him

yup, you were two idiots in love but won't admit it cuz you're too scared of rejection and losing the other person

„is it normal that you're so cold?” you asked quietly and touched his chest then his exposed skin on collarbones „your temperature is definitely below normal”

fuck. when your hand touched his bare skin, he had the urge to hold it there. why it was so nice?

„I... I guess it's alright and you're just the one whose temperature is weird, you're really hot” he came up with some excuse

„really?” you giggled due to the word 'hot'

he quickly realized what he said, he tried to hide his blush „oh, come on! you have a sense of humor like some high school boy!”

„I need to agree” u giggled again and closed your eyes

he gently cupped your cheek

„rafayel...?”

❛love and deepspace masterlist❜

[leviathanleva]

Cujo

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Supersoldier!FemReader

Description: A monster in human skin, a weapon disguised as a person, no thoughts, no emotion, as per design. He despises you and everything you stand for. He’s tried to kick you out of his squad and failed, he’s made it his mission to break you no matter the cost.

It comes as a surprise when he asks you to lie and say you love him.

[4.4k words]

[Angst, Blood and Injury, Graphic Depiction of Gore]

Chapter 3 "Liquorish"

Heartbeat heavy in your chest, you race up the supposedly abandoned building, finding enemy after enemy.

It was supposed to be a routine inspection, an easy mission, in and out in less than a week. Now everything is turned upside down and being unable to contact or smell Ghost anywhere near has your senses flaring up with the unfamiliar feeling of stress and determination.

Bloodlust hazes your vision, everything has a ruddy tint to it, be it from splattered entrails or rage, it’s beyond your understanding. The memories still linger, the last sentence you heard over the coms before everything went to static:

“Hound! Do not engage! The roof is – ”

You were supposed to be his shield, it’s your job to be ambushed and take damage, you can regenerate, he can’t. But Ghost let either his man pride or his protective instinct overwhelm him, the anxiety still lingered in his gut no matter how many times you came back to him half dead and you were good as new minutes later. He wasn’t thinking clearly when he pushed you behind him and ordered you to watch his back as you advanced through the abandoned building suspected of drug trafficking activity.

He moved ahead without you, for once he wanted to be your protector. Now you can’t sense hair or trail from him and you’re becoming increasingly frustrated.

Easy mission your ass. This was a charade for something bigger.

The mask around your mouth whirls in overdrive, siphoning as much oxygen as possible while you vigorously work your way to the dreaded roof. Straining both muscle and limb in unison, you climb floor after floor, pushing your limitations as vapor froths off your skin and trails behind you like a haunting mirage. Your body is boiling on the inside, having exerted too much energy in too short a time and your muzzle can only do so much to keep you going before you collapse from overheating.

To hell with pushing your bounds when the Lieutenant might be in danger.

Another enemy, seemingly waiting for you, they all have been, a crumb trail of beating hearts the closer you get to your destination. You dive for him as bullets dig into your shoulder, he’s sliding towards the grimy floor and clutching his shredded throat a moment later. You don’t have time for a measly nobody, he chose the wrong side, he suffers the consequences.

The concrete debris crinkles under your boots, crushed to fine dust under the pressure you’ve put on your feet. Clutching and shouldering corners, you bounce yourself off them to retain speed in the claustrophobic corridors. Jump over handfuls of stairs where more hostiles await, you hear them before you see them, distinguishing their heavy breathing over your muffled pants.

Blood painting the walls like an abstract piece of art, death is left in your wake as you rush up another floor. The screams have alerted more people, and so have the gunshots and you bristle at the amount of footsteps echoing in the shells of your ears.

What is going on? Why are there so many of them? Where the hell is the Lieutenant? How did they jam your coms?

The questions are pushed aside as you appear in the shadows of a bare apartment, blending into the darkness and only your irises visible. A menacing sight to anyone, a monster, it’s what you’ve become as you slowly drown in your brutish ways the longer you’re detached from your beloved master.

A hoarse growl escapes you, you’re nearly moving on all fours, prowling low to the floor as you tackle the first enemy target. Flashlights are thrown astray, nearly blinding you as the chaos ensues. You crush bone like it’s toothpicks, rip at flesh like paper, the whirring in your mask overwhelms the gurgling cries for help and call for reinforcements. Bloodlust can be dangerous in the hands of one who is inexperienced such as yourself and you keep walking deeper down that path as no sign of your teammate shines to stifle you back to normalcy.

Strands of hair stick to your face like glue, matted down and drenched in sweat, your gear feels heavy and damp, it’s a sauna beneath your loose, coarse blouse. Your socks are slippery against the inside of your boots and you have half a mind to kick them off and continue barefoot. Juggernaut as you are, your breaking point is nearly reached and you feel the stinging pain creeping up your spine. The idea of rest is forced away, you can’t afford it when you’re so close, you’ve come too far to shut down now to cool off, not when Ghost is unresponsive.

The amount of cocking weapons should be concerning as you near the door to the roof, bloodshot eyes opened wide and pupils dilated as the scent of familiarity finally reaches your nostrils, too intoxicating for your mind to register the plethora of other bodily odors.

You nearly break through the door in your neglectful hurry, gaze harsh and piercing, slicing through the multitude of hostile soldiers only with your oppressive presence. Hunched over, with tense shoulders and pulsing hands that are itching to rip into the men before you, you skim over the roof with vigor, letting your nose guide your vision to a familiar figure standing at the edge of the roof.

“Lieutenant!” Your first instinct is to rasp out, crystalline orbs trained on his battered form strung up by a crane like a piece of meat. A guttural snarl reverberates deep in your throat as you turn to the crowd of armed enemies with malice, ready to shred them to a pulp and eat a bucket of bullets in the process if only to get to your precious squad mate.

Ghost sways above a crater, his secured feet dangling above a deadly drop. You can smell the blood slowly oozing down his knuckles, staining his gloves, and hear his steady heart as he swims in unconsciousness. You nearly whine at the sight, reeling your head towards him with the need to call out again and maybe have him wake up.

No such simple luxury is provided for you, instead you’re faced off with a handful of brutes who believe their chances of survival are higher than zero.

You take a step forward. The weapons train on you.

You’ll rip them apart –

“ – Tut, tut!”

You falter at the voice and watch the nearly unhinged door behind you close to reveal none other than your target – suited and unbothered by your feral breathing and unceremonial entrance. The man you’ve been hunting for an age too long now to admit, a slippery bastard that felt someone breathing down his neck only when you were sent after his trail. Philip Graves stands to your right, the traitor, the absolute menace of a man that has the audacity to flick a smile at you as if you’d just joined his most prestigious party.

“Well, it’s nice to finally see Shepherd’s little experiment in the flesh.” He croons and looks you over in marvel. A bitter frown adorns your features as you abandon your prowling stance and straighten your back, adopting a more human-like pose. “Quite the achievement.” He notices your attention turn completely to him and scoffs before unfurling his fingers to show off a remote of sorts. “Don’t give me that look.”

“And that is…?” You question, words slurred by the confines of your muzzle as your eyes dart from his face to the remote, then you realize and your glare sharpens.

“The remote to the crane of course. I wouldn’t risk being in your proximity if I didn’t have a guarantee of your obedience. I’m confident, not a fool.” You’d snort at his cocky words in a different setting. He gestures at you with his free hand, flicking his fingers casually as if ushering a child. “Now if you really cherish your Lieutenant – remove your mask.”

For a brief moment, you’re left confused, blink at him twice before tilting your chin to one side and crossing your arms, eyes straying from him as you plunge into thought. The audacity was not what bewildered you, but his utter belief in having wrangled you pliant. To think he was willing to so absolutely rely on the dry, shallow information he’d dug up was preposterous. It was also wrong, your instructions were clear and no blackmail or threat was going to weaken your resolve.

You were trained to hunt, complete your assignment at any cost, be put in lethal danger, and come out victorious. Your squad mates were weak to no fault of their own, but their lifeline was something you would risk for the greater good.

This was your duty.

“No.” You answer simply and take a step forward. Whatever justice-fueled speech was circling in your head is silenced by an unfamiliar trepidation in your chest as you see Graves’ thumb glide over the release button on the remote. You swallow something thick in your throat and huff out a breath before straightening your shoulders. “Return the Lieutenant to me and I will leave you to run. I will not pursue you. You have my word.”

What was this…? What the hell were you saying?

He laughs at your words, apparently the contradiction of them to your monotone voice is entertaining. Your jaw clenches at his nonchalant demeanor used to disguise the nervous sheet of sweat forming thickly on the back of his neck. You can smell it even with the abundance of testosterone burning your nostrils.

“You see, I would…but then again, I don’t trust you.”

“I do not lie.” You state with a deadpan look.

“You don’t disobey orders either.” Graves retorts and gives you a challenging expression, pursing his lips to one side and deeming you too untrustworthy for a dealing of a peace delegation. “Mask off. Now.” He snaps when you don’t budge and twirls the remote in his hand before pointing it daringly at Ghost. A moment of nothing passes and instead of the tension you’d hoped to rise within him, he grins and rests a hand on his hip, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Oh? Is this right? You truly don’t care for your teammate?”

“No.” Comes your immediate answer, smooth and soft and lacking an ounce of care for the potential danger it might send your Lieutenant in. You glance at his limp, hanging body with disinterest and blame your palpitating heart to the long and strenuous journey to the roof rather than something else. It couldn’t be anything else, you felt nothing but the aftermath of physical exertion. “Whether he lives or dies, it’s all the same to me.” You’re being truthful yet every single word wrestles with you fervently before being forced past your teeth. Strange and bothersome, but you pay it no mind. “If I return with your head my task is complete. Your death is my mission, casualties are inevitable.”

He doesn’t buy it.

“Let’s test that theory, shall we?” Graves sneers something vile and again points the remote at the crane, toying with you and relishing in it.

Your mask hisses loudly and is tossed on the concrete floor of the roof before you can realize what you’re doing. The lower part of your face – wet from the vapor of your breaths, soiled with a snarl. You don’t dare let the bastard out of sight now that the power dynamic has shifted in his favor.

“There you go. Good girl.” He coos at the sight of your unreluctant obedience and his smug features soften in near adoration. “Seems you still have a heart after all.”

Not fond of his degrading babying, you try to steer the conversation to another, much more vital topic that has been gnawing at your gut since the revealing of his presence.

“Why are you here? What business do you have with me?”

Graves, much to your surprise, obliges your question.

“A little birdie told me I’m being hunted by a whole new predator. A…special one this time.” He begins and motions for his men to make their way to his side, steering them to a safe distance from your vicious paws in case you snap despite the low odds. He reciprocates the eye contact, almost unblinking, not wanting to miss a beat from your uncanny demeanor. “That birdie also told me you have a habit of following orders only from your Lieutenant and I thought maybe…if I manage to string up the worm, I’ll get the fish.” His arms spread wide, his chest expands and you’re almost tempted to lunge forward. “And voila.”

“That’s not an answer to my question.” You cock your head at him and let your arms unfold and fall to your sides.

The corners of his mouth twitch at your disinterest.

“I wanted to see you in the flesh, Hound.” He answers then, changing from his grandiose façade to a genuine and less irritable one. Gesturing towards you, he continues. “Check if the rumors are true. And judging by the fact you even got to the roof – they certainly are.” His hands clasped together over his pelvis, the remote shining still between his fingers, yellow and menacing in contrast to his black cotton gloves. “Quite disgusting what they did to you. Wouldn’t you say?” The nearly heartfelt sympathy in his tone does little to sway your intentions and it shows clearly on your unmoving features. Yet he keeps going, keeps feeding you with conflicting thoughts that fail to take root in your mind. “Countless months of agony just to become a pawn.”

Despite the unpleasant memories flooding your head at his take, you hum and brush them aside without much effort.

“I consented to my augmentations.”

“That you did.” He nods and juts his jaw before flicking the blonde locks away from his eyes and slicking them back. “ For the chance of serving a greater purpose, not being someone’s lapdog and wasting your potential on lowly criminals.” Scorn drips heavily from his tongue, a hidden distaste for his own misfortunes showing, misfortunes much similar to yours. “But I won’t sway you yet. I can’t when your attention is so torn between me and your Lieutenant.”

Maybe his sympathy is sincere, you think. Maybe there’s an ounce of truth in his law-breaking, scummy ways and he sees you as much of a victim as he sees himself. It would make sense why he orchestrated this whole situation instead of simply trying to kill you and rid himself of you.

A part of you believes him, you can tell that bits and pieces of what he says come from a wronged man trying to take revenge for his pain. But you’re no simple soldier, you were built to withstand manipulation, torture, worse. You admit to his twisted honesty but have no intent in following after him and abandoning everything you’ve worked to build no matter how unimportant or unimpressive it was.

“You’re misinterpreting.”

The distinct beat of helicopter wings catches your attention far before the vehicle itself appears in the distance. Graves and his men’s ride, you presume, a quick escape after he got bored of your lack of subordination and bid you farewell.

“Am I?” He doesn’t dare to glance back, instead lets his ears assure him that his escape route is secured and is hastily approaching his location. “So far you’ve completed your tasks well.” A gloved thumb rubs over his freshly shaven jaw, before nudging his bottom lip up in contemplation as he sizes you up and down with a calculative look. “I have one last objective for you, though, just to test your limits. Figure out what I’m up against, you know?”

“I don’t take orders from you.” You hiss, expressing something more than monotony for the first time during your conversation.

His words had struck a nerve somewhere, surprisingly so, yet he took the opportunity regardless.

“This one you’ll have to.” He all but sighs, bored with your resistance and crackling unbothered demeanor. There’s too much peaking beneath it and he wants to sink his teeth into it, yet you continue to deny him. Whether from a lack of understanding over your emotions or a very bad attempt at hiding them, they were visibly showing through and he couldn’t get enough of it. “Tell me, do you think if you jump from this building you can survive?”

“Without my mask, it’s highly unlikely.”

A gust of wind sweeps by you and suddenly you’re painfully aware how it sways the rope Ghost hangs from, still and silent. Sweat forms on your brow, your hands curl into fists, blunt nails digging into the flesh of your palms and nearly drawing blood.

“Interesting.” He hums at your answer, nodding at the new information bestowed upon him – a weakness, a flaw in your design that your makers hadn’t been able to work out. This gave him a useful advantage against you. “So without a steady supply of oxygen, you’re rendered useless.”

“I can still rip you in half.” You declare and lean forward, arms dangling and ready to clutch at the floor and propel you forward. Your patience runs thin and Graves tastes it on his tongue, not much longer before you snap and dash either for him or the Lieutenant.

“Oh, I don’t doubt.” He laughs in your face like your threat means nothing and gestures for his men to board the helicopter before hopping on himself. He grips onto the side of the door and smiles bitterly at you. “Well, it’s been a pleasure making your acquaintance finally after such a long game of cat and mouse. I’m afraid we must be going now though.”

“Do you like hearing yourself talk?” A bark reverberates somewhere deep in your throat, akin to a growl as you lunge towards the helicopter.

No more talking, you’ve given him enough grace. Should have ended everything minutes before, forced yourself to move out of the stupor your Lieutenant’s state had pinned you in.

He doesn’t matter, nothing matters but Graves’ head, and like a scared mutt, you’d let him grow confident in his false influence over you.

“You know, you’re right. I’ve talked enough.” Venom oozes from his smirk as he spits one last taunt your way. “Fetch!”

You fail to realize why he’s so self-assured when you’re still capable of reaching him before the helicopter has lifted off. The slimy smirk doesn’t leave his face as he presses the button and turns away from you with a distinct “Ta!”. It’s sickening. Ghost matters not, your orders are clear and you’re sure the Lieutenant would understand the sacrifice you had to make were he in your stead. It’s a worthy sacrifice, he’d be honored after his demise, renowned for leading you to the den of the enemy for you to demolish and rid the world of their stain of an existence.

“You’re a fool if you think – ”

Your voice hitches as your body involuntarily turns away from Graves.

WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING –

You dash across the rooftop and leap over the edge without a drop of hesitancy. A coil nestles in your stomach, not from the sight before you – a height so devastating, the street below so far that the cars look like mere pebbles, but at the thought of abandoning your prospect, disobeying a command, revolting against your upper command.

Too late to turn back now. And even if you could, would you?

No…

You adjust your limbs against the merciless wind, propel your arms forward like a diver about to hit the water's surface, your entire being flattened to endure as much resistance as possible and cut through the air. The cold whips against your eyes, blurs your vision with tears which you rapidly blink away to not lose sight of Ghost’s descending body.

Was it only the cold? Why were the tears so salty then?

Why was your face stuck in a desperate grimace of horror and hope?

Halfway across the building, you manage to snatch the rope around your Lieutenant’s waist. Your victory is shortlived as the earth beneath approaches steadfast and you bite into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and keep your head as cool as possible.

What now?

Even if he’s safely in your arms, you’re still heading for an inevitable death and thinking time is limited. You wrack your brain into turbo mode to come up with something, anything to save him, prevent his fall. The solution comes to you and it’s not all too pleasant, but without an alternative, you relent.

You thrust your arm through the glassy wall of the building, letting the shards shred through your skin, unable to exert your full potential without your mask. You try to regardless and your throat feels like it’s closing in on itself, you can’t breathe in enough air, the oxygen is not nearly the amount you need and you’re left suffocating slowly. Your hand mauls through cement floors and polished windows that shatter under the pressure as you desperately grapple for something, trying to slow your momentum.

Heart hammering in your throat, eyes wide with plea for something to work, for a miracle to happen, but it doesn’t. No fairytales allowed for the sinful and decrepit, for those who’ve abandoned their humanity for the betterment of civilization.

Pain doesn’t register on your features as your arm continues to endure in vain, shredded, sliced, battered to a pulp. But the horror registers when it shatters, the bone and flesh unable to withstand such detrimental amounts of damage, it’s rendered useless. It’s not the physical agony that terrifies you, but the only means of you saving the Lieutenant – now completely obliterated.

What now?

You think while your gaze darts from the bloodied, mangled mess that is your now worthless limb to the hastily approaching pavement below.

DO SOMETHING! ANYTHING! –

“Bloody f – ”

The once-lidded chocolate orbs you’ve grown to cherish look up at you – spastic, disoriented, glued to you as if you could explain your current predicament. You drown in them for a moment, pained, mournful that you’ve failed to fulfill both your duties.

Not a good hound. Fucking useless.

The prey got away, your keeper is soon to be a splatter of intestines on the ground below.

Good for nothing you are. Failed at everything. Can’t even save your own Lieutenant.

“Hound! Fucking hell, we – ”

Your jaw tightens, and your skin crawls once you’re close enough to discern the peculiar cracks in the sidewalk, you’re that close now. Doom, there’s nothing left but to die.

No. You refuse. If not for yourself, then for Ghost. You can’t lose him. You’ll sacrifice everything for him.

In a last attempt at being a hero, you struggle in the air, against the howling wind that screams bloody murder in your ears. You fiddle spasmodically, manage to clumsily maneuver both of you, deaf to the breathless curses slipping past his mask. You thrust him sideways, fling him into a window hard enough to make it give in under his weight. He breaks through back first, you hear him choke as he hits and skids on the carpeted floor with a deft thud.

You nearly smile, a contrast at his horrified expression as he realizes the situation – your maskless face, your bloodied limb, it’s only for a split second before you’re back to hurtling down without him. You hear a scream of your name, the intimate one, the real one.

Your eyes water anew, maybe from the air, maybe from him calling out to you in what sounds like spastic worry.

One good hand was all you needed.

You’re free now. You fulfilled your duty.

Everything hurts, you feel your entire being imprinted into the roof of a car, having squished it in the impact. Blood coats your tongue, your throat feels crushed. You’re choking for air quietly, your body desperately trying to repair all damages but failing because your mouth and nose can’t gulp enough oxygen no matter how greedily you’re breathing.

Sprawled out, the sky swirls high above your head, gazed at through blurry vision. Stars twinkle like smudged jewels, the moon is nowhere to be seen and for a moment you feel alone and at peace. It doesn’t matter that you’re molded into a random car with shattered bones and punctured lungs.

Maybe there are witnesses, maybe the streets are empty, you’re unsure, the screaming in your ears is punching at your eardrums and you can’t make out anything.

A peaceful death after years of war is what you wish for.

The cold creeps over your skin, through your gear, its caress soothing against your steaming flesh.

A splotch of creamy whine enters your vision, poking from one of the shattered windows. A skull mask, you recognize it even with both eyes and mind hazy and drunk on scalding pain. You’d reach out if you could, your first instinct demands you to do so, reach out to Ghost, reunite as leal hound and loving master once more. But you can’t, your body refuses to budge, a twitch of your fingers is all you can muster.

A cough rips through you, excruciating, and more stomach-churning iron rushes over your sticky tongue.

Will he remember you? Will he mourn you if you pass? Will he miss you? Will your absence leave yet another scar for him to nurture? Will he ever forgive you for sacrificing yourself for him?

Does it matter?

Not really…

But it does.

Somewhere deep within the crooks and crevices of your heart, it does matter to you, if only a little.

Your eyelids are heavy and you’ve not the strength to keep them open anymore. The chill air is so welcoming, lulls you and tugs you towards the comforts of slumber.

You hear a rasp, his voice echoing, deep and baritone as he disappears somewhere in the darkness.

You can’t stay conscious anymore no matter how desperately he begs you. You’re tired, just want to sleep, you’re aching, you want out of the pain, out of responsibilities and bloodshed.

This feels nice. Oblivion is welcoming.

The cold dissipates, and everything goes dark. You take one last meager breath and succumb to blackened dreams and fleeting pictures, sprawled vastly on the surface of your mind as your body gives out completely.

<<< Chapter 2

Chapter 4 >>>

Masterlist

[arcturusqww]

King’s orders.

Pairing: Arthur pendragon x reader

Warning: Smut, orgasm denial, powerplay(?), hair pulling, pet names(whore, love etc), rough sex, spanking, slapping, Arthur being a little mean.

Info: Arthur has both arms in this.

“A-ah! A-arthur!” Your whimper was muffled against the pillow. Arthur’s right hand on your hair pushed your face further into the soft, white surface. His grip was gently firm. “Too loud, baby. You don’t want the whole castle to hear your dirty sounds, do you?” He said the last part with a particular sloppy and hard thrust making you bite down on the pillow to quiet yourself. His hard cock deep in your cunny, resting for the time being.

“Sorry..” You mumbled while lightly grinding your butt against his crotch, wanting to continue. Not without his permission though. Arthur landed a small smack on your left cheek. Not too harsh, not too light. It was enough to make you stop immediately.“Patience, love. Patience.” He let out a small chuckle when he saw you looking back at him over your shoulder, your teeth nibbling down on your lower lip with cheeks red from being flushed against the pillow. You looked cute, but the king had authority.

He moved his fingers tighter around your hair, pulling it back and making you face forward. “You just had to be a bad girl. Aren’t you supposed to follow your king’s orders, love? Aren’t i so nice to you? Why don’t you return the favor by being a good girl?” He sighed, “I guess you need a lesson. Don’t you agree?” he asked, giving your hair a gentle tug while his other had smacked your left cheek again, this time on your butt and slightly harder than the last time. “..yes Arthur..” He took note of your submissive tone, proudly letting go of your hair and grabbing your hips tightly with his both hands. He moved his own hips away, his cock moving halfway out before he quickly slammed back, not going as slow as before. After a few deep thrusts, he picks up the pace, violently slamming into your poor, wet cunny.

The sound of skin slapping against each other and wet slicks of your cunt echoed, accompanying Arthur’s low grunts and your muffled noises. Your face was completely pressed against the pillow, arms hugging around it. Your nails were scratching and gripping the pillow.

Your walls were clenching more around his cock and milking it. Arthur let out a small moan. You could feel his cock twitching and bulging, making it know that he was close. His left hand clasped your hips tighter while his other hand went to your clit, sneaking around your belly to down. He played messily, rubbing and bumping his middle finger against it. He knew you were close as well. It was a struggle to keep your noises down even with a small part of the pillow in your mouth, but you had to unless you’d like to take the risk to anger the already stressed king.

“Gonna fill you up, love, hm? Gonna paint your insides white, you like that? ‘f course you do, whore.” With that his violet eyes roll back and a loud groan is heard, thick strings of cum filling your pussy to brim. A knot is formed in your stomach and your legs start to shake. Your walls clench tighter and milking every last drop of his sticky cum. The fingers at your cilt edging and encouraging you before all the movements suddenly stopped.

Arthur pulls his cock out of your pussy, thin strings of cum connecting your pussy and his pink tip. His hand also follows his body. You were left unsatisfied as you look over your shoulder, lifting your head up from the pillow. You knew better than to try to get off on your own.

“That’s what you get when you don’t just follow orders. Happy with yourself?” He was openly mocking you, before just giggling gently and tapping your butt. “I have a meeting, love. We’ll continue after.” He just smiles at the disappointment in your face and bends over.

“Be a good girl ‘till i’m back.” With that, he presses a small kiss to your pouty lips before just standing back up and walking out. Using his chaos powers to make his usual clothes appear around his body. Leaving you in the bed, now sat up. Watching behind him with a unsatisfied expression and needy for more. But, if you really want more, you’ll behave, king’s orders.

[cherry-velvet-skies]

Within You, Without You (18+)

George Harrison × GN!Reader

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, all the things

Warnings: A very short sex scene, power play if you squint, slight nipple play, convos about insecurities and low self confidence and stuff like that

Words: 3.2k

Summary: 1967 era; You need to find a way to relax, and George offers to be your guide through tantral meditation

T/N: Domine- Latin for master; used from a place of utmost respect

===================================

==============================

You had tried everything. Anything that would help to decrease your stress levels. These past few weeks had been tough on you, and all you wanted was for your brain to quiet down for a bit. But nothing seemed to work, no matter how hard you tried. So, you thought of the only thing that even had a shot at clearing your head: meditation. And lucky for you, you had just the person to teach you.

For someone with his level of experience, George was very well versed in the art of meditation. He had been given the tools to get to a place where he was comfortable practicing on his own, and that was really all there was to it. And he was more than happy to pass on any amount of his knowledge to you.

"Most people start out in the position you see most often, which is sitting on the floor with your legs crossed." George instructed as he sat down next to you, demonstrating the position. You couldn't help but stare at the wide variety of decor placed throughout the room. George had a specific room that he would go only to meditate. Apparently, having a designated space is supposed to enhance your chances of successful meditation.

You had half expected the room to be devoid of color, but it was quite the opposite. It looked as though all the wonderful colors of the rainbow had performed an interpretive dance across the walls, twirling and swinging about in perfect harmony. This was not the environment you had in mind.

"I always thought meditation was supposed to be about clearing your mind." You stated. "That's why most yoga studios are painted white." George gave you a confused stare.

"Meditation is about clearing your mind of negative energy. Not blanking it out completely." He replied, smoothing out the carpet fibers beneath his feet. "Meditating in a completely white room is not going to help you at all. You should be surrounded by things that are going to positively stimulate your brain." He looked around for a moment, admiring his own decor before turning back to you. "Although positive stimulation looks different for everyone, an assortment of colors is the most natural form of it."

“So is meditation always done this way?” You questioned, honestly having no clue where to start. George always had so much knowledge to share, and it wasn’t that you had no interest in meditation. You often felt that it wouldn’t work for you, but realized that you would never know if you never tried.

“This practice is the best entry to meditation. But once it comes more naturally to you, you can do it from anywhere at any time,” George explained, “To reach an optimal mental state for meditation, it does take much more than to sit cross-legged and close your eyes. It’s about reaching an internal piece, which would then translate to the physical body. However, the key is to start small.” He motioned towards several fluffy pillows on the floor beside him. “If the floor is too hard, you can use one of these.”

“And by doing this, I'll just…feel better?” You asked, getting comfy on one of the pillows. There were several colors, the one you chose being a soft orange.

“Well, not exactly.” George chuckled, He was always so patient. “You have to incorporate your mind as well. Like I said, clearing your mind means clearing negative energy. The best way to do that is to think of a place that brings you comfort and imagine that you’re there. To get in touch with both your mind and your body.”

You sighed. That was always your problem. You felt like you were too much in your own head and needed an escape. How were you supposed to be one with your mind if you didn’t even want to be in there in the first place?

“I just know what’s going to happen,” You whined, “I’m gonna get frustrated and it’ll have the opposite effect on me.”

George blinked at you, pursing his lips. “Can you at least try, love?” He offered, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here if you need me.”

You couldn’t help but smile. George’s genuine desire to help you truly did make things easier, but it was your stubborn brain that wouldn’t put in the effort. It technically wasn’t entirely your fault, but it was hell to live with. But George was right. Not trying meant shutting out the possibility of finding a solution. He didn’t want you to do it just to please him. He wanted you to want to do it. To do it for yourself.

“Alright.’ You said, exhaling sharply. “I’ll try.”

George smiled warmly, adorable fangs on full display. He didn’t have to do much to help you get ready as you were already in position. He stood off to the side, waiting to begin his part of the process as you settled into a comfortable zone. You did everything he said. Crossing your legs, closing your eyes, and relaxing into a decompressing posture. You drew in a deep breath, exhaling and trying your hardest to release any tension along with it.

After you closed your eyes, you felt George continue to stand around you, assessing your method of choice. You decided to go with the traditional method, despite your earlier qualms about its lack of stimulation. You figured that maybe less was more, and that by trying to calm your body down to an optimal level, you would achieve your desired outcome. But of course, without fail, once you tried to focus on finding a sense of tranquility, your thoughts took over and you were back where you started.

“I can’t…” You said shakily. “I can’t do it.’ You still hadn’t opened your eyes, because you knew if you did, there would be no stopping the flow of tears.

“Perhaps you need something else to focus on.” George replied, standing behind you now. He placed his hands on your shoulders and waited there for a moment. You didn’t tense up or try to move away, so he proceeded. He slid his fingers up and down your neck, gently squeezing your muscles as he went. You still kept your eyes closed, but furrowed your brows in confusion. To you, this seemed like the most inopportune time for a shoulder massage, but refused to object. You trusted that George knew what he was doing to some degree.

“Think of yourself as if you were facing them directly.” He announced, implementing a new kind of tactic, “Give them advice on how to achieve your goal right now.”

“George, what are you doing?” You interrupted, “How is this supposed to make me relax for meditation? The last thing I want to be thinking about is how I view myself.” George removed his right hand from your shoulder and placed his index finger at the base of your head, slowly tracing down your spine. You shivered, feeling like electricity was flowing through your body. “How did you do that?” You whispered, a slightly shudder moving through your voice as you spoke. “Why did I feel that?”

“We often find it hard to look within ourselves for answers, especially if we feel we aren’t qualified to give them. The vision of speaking to someone else helps to translate that motivation into an exterior perspective.” Classic George. You ask him a simple question and he gives you the secrets of life.

“Okay…” You breathed, “But when I look at myself, all I do is criticize them, whether it’s a mirror or a clone.” You were close to giving up, and it was clear George was running out of options. He remained stationary, his hands never leaving your shoulders. He sighed, thinking for a moment before making any sudden movements.

Mere seconds later, George resumed his shoulder massage, but instead of maintaining his posture, he bent down, mouth level with your ear. His voice was not above a whisper, his tone dripping with a new and improved delightful idea.

“Tell me how to help you, my Domine…”

You froze. This was the only thing that actually got you to sit up straight. You opened your eyes and turned to look at George only for him to shush you and turn your head back to stare at the wall in front of you. He kept his left hand cupped around your jaw, making sure you didn’t move it again, but there was no discipline. His grip was quite loose. You ideally could’ve gotten up and walked out if you truly wanted to. He wasn’t keeping you there.

“You know latin?” You mumbled, still perplexed at his new name for you.

George chuckled. “I know many things. All are useful at some time or another.” He pressed into your shoulders, his smile growing as you released some tension in the form of a strained whimper. He leaned to your ear again.

“If you can’t tell yourself what to do…tell me instead.”

You froze, but your following response was done with no hesitation. It was methodic. Robotic, almost. You adjusted your posture, locking into your newfound confidence.

“Make me feel good.” You whispered, knowing no additional details were needed. George went straight to work, placing his fingers at the back of your neck, towards the base of your skull. “Make me feel that sensation again.” You added, not knowing how to describe it but already feeling addicted. You wished it could flow through your body on command, giving you a boost at any time of day. You pretended as if you were alone, eyes closed and rhythmic breathing as his hands explored your body. A small sigh left George’s lips, exhaling a small puff of air onto your lower back while his fingers wisped across your spine. Every touch felt like a feather, as if he was there but he wasn’t. He truly gave you the illusion of peaceful solitude, merely being an assisting spirit to guide you in your journey of inward and outward reflection.

“Move to the front.” You announced, and George stopped in his tracks. Your initial reaction was to withdraw, fearing you sounded too demanding. Too commanding. Too strong. But you remained stationary, awaiting your lover’s next move. You heard him shuffle, and the new shadow in front of you, changing the amount of natural light billowing onto your body gave you the confirmation that your orders had been followed. George inhaled another long breath, ostensibly entering his own corresponding headspace.

“All I wish is to please you, my dear.”

Your body gave into the scene, falling back onto your palms while still keeping your legs crossed. You arched your back, pushing your chest towards him, giving him a compensatory level of control in this otherwise hierarchical situation. After a while, George began to drift off as well, taking in the sensation across your torso as he massaged your chest and pressed small kisses across your shoulders. You didn’t expect him to take to this so easily, but it seemed like second nature to the two of you. Perhaps it was always meant to be this way.

What mostly came to your surprise was when George’s fingers brushed over your nipples through your shirt, causing your hips to jolt involuntarily. You still weren’t sure if that was intentional or not, but there was certainly an additional advantage. He was testing you, waiting to see if it was what you wanted. Technically, you had complete control over what he would do next, yet he knew that if he took matters into his own hands, you wouldn’t stop him. You wanted it more than ever. You wanted to tell him to just have his way with you. And you knew you absolutely could. He knew you could. He would do whatever you wanted him to. But it wasn’t about what he wanted. It was all about how long you could fight the urge to tip the balance. To realize that the one who submits all power is truly the one in control. He was giving you the chance to be demanding. To be commanding. To be strong. The power play was absolutely diabolical.

“Do that again.” You choked out, trying your best not to sound desperate. George knew exactly what you wanted. So he did it again, but softer. More enjoyable. More deliberate. And by telling him what you wanted, he knew you had acquired a new goal. And you wanted to see how far he would go to please you.

“Make me feel confident.” You sighed. “Make me feel powerful.”

“I can’t do that, dear.” George replied without missing a beat, thumbs still slowly dragging back and forth across your nipples. “That has to come from within.”

You whined. The closer you got to what you wanted, the harder it was to keep up the confidence. You thought choosing the route of pleasure would be easier for you, but it was the same old story. Entering with a confident facade was simple. But the deeper you went, the more you wanted to back out.

“It doesn’t feel like me.” You breathed. George moved his hands to your waist, opting for a soft massage to ease the level of stimulation.

“Don’t lose it,” He whispered, “You were doing great.” You didn’t respond, slowly being dragged back inside your own head. If this had any shot of working, George knew he had to keep you grounded. “We both know this is something the real you wants.”

You paused for a moment, gathering your thoughts into a neatly folded pile. Based on your personal skills, it looked more like a lumpy pile of laundry, but at least it was all together. You tried to imagine that you were alone again. That your only company was yourself. And for the first time, the person staring back at you was a true reflection. Still in your own world, you whispered so that only you could hear.

“Give me what I need. Give me what I want.” But George heard you loud and clear, assuming his role and getting you to the end. He resumed his deliberate touching across your chest, and you immersed yourself in it as if it were your own. You don’t know how long it went on for, but all you knew was that you never wanted it to end. George moved as if he was giving a deep tissue massage to your soul. Everything you said, he did. Everywhere you wanted to be touched, he did. He didn’t need to understand your rhyme or reason. Whatever your body was calling out for needed to be answered. The real you needed to be heard.

Eventually you felt a bout of pressure begin to build inside you. The longer it went on, the stronger it felt. Lately, the concept of pleasure had been one form of stress relief you couldn’t rely on. Try as you must, you couldn’t bring yourself to the edge. But this time was different. In his newfound role, George had bestowed upon you the virtual reality of physical pleasure. It wasn’t sex. You didn’t want sex. Throughout this entire session, you had never once asked him to touch you in your most intimate place. This was about stimulation. But if it ended in an orgasm, you were more than satisfied with that.

And you felt it. It slowly rose, like a high tide during a full moon. The soft light bouncing off the rippling water like your body started to shake, the glorious light of your soul trying to break out of your skin. Though he sensed you nearing the edge, George didn’t speed up. He didn’t slow down. He didn’t change anything. He stared at you as your head tipped back, small moans leaving your lips. You couldn’t say anything else to direct him, but there was nothing left to say anyway. The pleasure had peaked, the wave reaching a new height. It came crashing down onto the shore, your orgasm flowing through you. You released with a gasping shout, your exclamation nothing short of the highest praise for George and his intricate touches. Your arms could no longer hold you up, and your elbows buckled, sending you falling backwards onto the floor. George caught your head before you made contact, lowering you down the rest of the way. He rubbed small circles on the soft skin of your stomach just above your waistband. You sighed, your breathing slowly returning to normal as your lover began to leave small kisses on your right shoulder. You giggled, celebrating the fact that your new goal had been accomplished: it was the first time you had ever come untouched.

George laid on the floor next to you, head tucked in your neck and one hand flat over your stomach, patting it in a slow, rhythmic fashion. “You need anything?” He whispered, poking your ear with his nose. You shook your head no, not wanting to move from this position, which included having him next to you. You rolled on your side to face him, brushing a few strands of hair away from his face. “I do have one question, though,” you mumbled, still in your post-coital haze, “does meditation usually lead to sex?”

George chuckled, slinging his arm over your hip to brush his hand over your back. “That is called tantra, love. It uses multiple forms of stimulation simultaneously, and yes, sometimes it does result in pleasurable situations like these.”

You smiled, pondering the topic. “So it’s meditation in the form of pleasure? But how does that relate to me feeling more confident?”

“It’s all about unlocking your true potential.” George replied, pausing briefly to perfect his explanation. “You felt confident. That’s mental stimulation. And paired with the physical stimulation, it provided enough emotional stimulation for you to have a powerful release.” He stared into your eyes with a mixture of love and gratitude. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to own up to it yet, but having you tell him what to do was also an example of mental and emotional stimulation. One that he had not been able to find on his own. The concept of joint meditation was something mutually beneficial.

“So when can we do it again?” You mused, earning a light chuckle from the man beside you.

“Whenever you want, my Domine.” George teased, seeing how you shivered at the recurring mention of your new title. He took the pillow that you had been using as a cushion and urged you to lift your head, placing it on the floor underneath you, watching as you sunk into the plush fabric. You smiled warmly, watching him take another pillow from the pile beside you, both of you get comfortable on the floor. The carpet was soft enough, but the addition of the pillows made for a fine place to have a nap. Eyes softly closing as the warm sun cascaded through the window and blanketed your nearly sleeping forms, your voice came as a barely audible whisper.

“Did you enjoy having me be in charge for once?” George smiled, not bothering to open his eyes to respond, but hearing your statement loud and clear. He thought for a moment before answering, but there was technically no need. He was no stranger to an apparently not so new experience.

“You’ve always been in charge to me, my dear.”

==============================

Happy new year y'all! 🥰🥰🥰 To kick off 2024, I figured I would finally finish up the last fic that was featured in that poll I made however many months ago that was lol also I will say that this is my first smut fic so pls go easy on me 😅 I'm sure I'll get there eventually BUT other than that I hope you enjoy! 😁

[kxmisato]

♡ DATE FIRST, CAFFEINE LATER — DAN HENG

↳ characters : dan hang x fem!reader

↳ genre : fluff

↳ synopsis : after pining over you for so long, dan heng has finally worked up the nerve to ask you out. and he’s nervous, extremely nervous because, it’s his first date with anyone.

↳ note : for lovers who hesitate by JANNABI (i am so in love with him, i'm very normal)

dan heng has never before been more nervous about something than he is now. is that a bit of a stretch? yes, but he is still extremely nervous. he knows you’ve already said yes to going out with him but he wasn’t expecting it?

he had already set his expectations low, so when he eventually worked up the courage to ask you out he wouldn’t get his hopes crushed.

but, when you said yes and asked him to text you the details, he was surprised and relieved at first -- then his nerves got the best of him.

now, he has everything set up. where he planned to take you as well as the time he was supposed to pick you up, different conversation topics, he even picked out his outfit beforehand for crying out loud.

needless to say, dan heng is excited but nervous, very nervous.

and when dan heng approached you and asked you out with his typical nonchalant face, you were surprised as well. 

you had always thought of dan heng as someone who was not interested in romantic relationships but instead as someone who kept to themselves more, surrounding himself in books to keep him company, not a companion.

well, that is what he is, he does keep to himself and you do often see him studying in the library or walking around campus with his headphones in. 

so you hope he didn’t take notice of the stunned look on your face when he asked you out.

when the day finally came, the both of you are excited and nervous. 

typical first date jitters. 

you staring in your mirror, nitpicking your outfit and jewelry while dan heng is trying his hardest to tame his hair and find where he left his cologne. 

you’re tying the laces of your tennis shoes just when you get a text from him.

dan heng ​​◡̈ : i should be there in about 5 minutes.

y/n : okok ! super excited to see you !

dan heng ◡̈ : same :)

dan heng is in the elevator of your apartment complex and just your quick response to his message eased his nerves for a split moment, before the doors open with a ding! and he realizes he’s on your floor.

he takes a deep breathe then walks out down the ivory painted hallways, looking at the numbers on the doors before he finally reaches the one he was searching for.

you’re grabbing your bag and wallet while dan heng is standing in front of your chestnut stained door, straightening his sweater and wiping his clammy hands on his black jeans out of nervousness. 

the period of anxious waiting and final touches are done for both of you. 

and it’s finalized when you hear the wood of the front door of your apartment being knocked on and done when he hears your footsteps approaching it.

as your hands go to reach the knob of the door, you take a deep breathe then finally grip the brass. 

“hi…” you greet him shyly. “did you want to come in for a second? i just need to go make sure shushu’s water dish is full.”

“shushu?” dan heng asks as he comes in, with you closing the door behind him.

“she’s my pet cat, did you want to meet her? i can bring her out to see you.”

“ah…” dan heng coughs. “are you sure that’s okay? i know that cats sometimes get stressed out when meeting new people.”

“it should be fine, she didn’t have any issues meeting march or stelle. but it’s okay if you don’t want to see her, of course.”

“maybe i can meet her when i drop you off later? the café closes early on sundays.” he suggests.

it’s not like he doesn’t want to meet your cat, dan heng loves cats and cats love him, he thinks… but right now he really wants to go on the date with you, even if he doesn’t know how to say that outright to you.

“oh, yeah! that’s smart.” you smile at him. “i’ll be right back then.”

as dan heng stands in your apartment’s front corridor, he looks around. it’s your place, but it’s so you. the plants, the decorations, and the knick knacks that are littered throughout the place.

the empty beige walls are filled with so much life, your life. 

pictures of you, of stelle, of march, and shushu, of course. it’s warm. you made this place your home, a part of your life and dan heng hopes that he can be too.

“okay!” he hears your voice, breaking him out of his trance. “should be ready to go now, sorry about that.”

“it’s okay, i didn’t mind.” he affirms then opens the front door for you. 

“oh, thank you.” you thank him as he steps out behind you. you then pulled your key out from your bag and locked the door.

“let’s go. is… is it bad to say that i’m excited to be going out with you?” you turn and ask him as you two begin to walk down your hallway, footsteps tandem.

dan heng laughs awkwardly but turns and smiles at you. “no, uh, not at all because i think i’m just as excited as you are.” he admits.

“i’m happy to hear that,” you say, trying to hide your growing shyness. “i’ve been wanting to spend more time with you.”

“me too.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

“i seriously don’t think you understand how nervous i actually was for our first date.”

“really? you seemed pretty like… relaxed? to me.”

the two of you were currently bundled up to combat the dropping temperatures of fall turning into winter, sharing a throw blanket in your living room and reminiscing on your first date together.

“i thought i was going to screw everything up!” dan heng admits with a laugh. “and shushu not liking me right away also shook me up, i’m not going to lie.”

you giggle at the brunette, cuddling closer under the blanket. “shushu is very cautious. besides, you didn’t mess anything up. i thought it was a perfect first date. you were very gentlemanly.” 

“gentlemanly?” he ponders.

“yeah! you held the doors open for me, paid for our order, and you listened to what i was saying. not only that, you added onto the conversation, i really liked that. you left a very good impression on me, dan heng.”

“i’m glad i left a good impression on you, but shushu didn’t seem to think so.” dan heng mumbles defeatedly.

“i’m still so sorry that she scratched you, i’ve never seen her like that. but at least she likes you now!” you joke.

“yeah, now she does. it only took like 3 months of me coming over for her to like me.” he says then turns to look at shushu as she’s resting beside him on your beige couch.

“she’s obsessed with you now, everytime you leave she cries and looks for you.” you tell him.

“yeah?” dan heng asks, still looking at the resting feline.

“yes, i swear.” you say, reaching forward to grab the tv remote from the coffee table, pausing the movie that the two of you were watching. “so, are you still staying over?”

dan heng hums, faking thinking over your question.

“hey! answer me!” you whine, playfully hitting his chest. “i want to go to the cafe with you tomorrow morning, so you have to stay over, okay? i need your help with studying for my exam.”

“ah… i don’t know, should i stay over?” dan heng jokingly questions. “what do you think shushu?” he turns to ask the cat.

“dan heng, you do realize that i’m your girlfriend and not shushu, right? you’re in my apartment not hers…”

“i’m joking!” he laughs at your pouting face. “yeah, of course i’m staying over.” he says, leaning over, pecking your temple.

“you’re paying for the coffee.” you say.

“i wouldn’t let you pay to begin with.”

you hum happily, snuggling closer to dan heng then unpausing the movie.

“i love you.” you whisper to him.

“i love you too, shushu”

“wow. really?”

“kidding, i love you too.” he admits, wrapping his arms around your torso, pulling you impossibly closer.

[ilobehwanghyunjin]

My Atlantis

:: You and hyunjin haven't been communicating well. (Mostly hyunjin's fault.)

Warnings:: ANGSTTT,

Hyunjin x fem!reader

"hyunjin... you should eat." You said on the other side of the door. Hyunjin has been painting every minute of the day and you were sick of it. You were sick of Constantly telling him to sleep, eat, drink, and other things that a human is supposed to do to live. You were sick of the constant arguments. You were sick of him not acting like the Hyunjin you met. He was paying you no attention to mind as if you were a ghost.

"I'll eat later." He said annoyed. "Okay"... you said defeated. There was no point of trying to get him to do the right things.

As you plopped on the couch you started overthinking. You decided to go on a walk to clear your mind.

Slipping on your shoes and grabbing your jacket, you walked out.

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

Sighing after painting for hours, he plopped down on the couch to look at his phone.

10:00 the clock read.

Thinking you were already asleep he took a shower and walked over to the bed side. You weren't there.

"y/n." He yelled throughout the house as he started to get worried.

He called your phone once only to find it on the living room table.

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

It's getting late. You thought to yourself finally deciding to go home to deal with a grumpy hyunjin.

As you walked through the door, it was awfully qhuiet and the place was very destroyed and dirty.

The lights were off too, you thought he already went to sleep.

Quietly tiptoeing your way to the couch, where you have been sleeping for the past week. Only to find hyunjin.

"hyunjin.?" You said kind of confused.

Bombarding you with questions like "OMG WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN."

"Hyunjin, just go to bed."

"Unt unt, you come to bed."

"What do you mean I haven't slept there since last week." Chuckling to light up the mood.

"That's not funny c'mon."

"hyunjin."

"fine sleep there I dont even care." He said stomping into your shared bedroom.

You shrugged and took your shoes off as you laid down to go to sleep as you felt something tug on your arm.

"Y/n.." hyunjin whined

"I'm sorry come to bed please."

"why are you doing this all of a sudden, I haven't slept there for a while n-."

"I know... I know. I can't believe I did that. I can't even believe I slept without you. This week has been very stressful and painting was the only way I could cope with it please come to bed." He says with a pout on his face.

"fine.." you say with a low voice.

"YAY" with the widest smile on his face.

You squeal as he picks you up. (Not bridal style)

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

As both of you clicked into the bed hyunjin was very close to you as you sighed in relief. Until you felt something wet on your shoulder.

"Love..?" You said in a low voice.

"I'm so sorry I treated you like that I didn't mean to I swear"

"Hyunjin it's okay I promise, can we go to sleep now?".

"Goodnight, I love you" planting a soft kiss to your cheek

"I love you too"

He was sure he'll make it up to you tmmr you

[mizusnose]

Heaven is not fit to house a love like you and I: pt.2

singular warning is that: the title was chosen for a reason

978 words (i’m sorry, i just didnt wanna do a pt.3)

The first time that Akemi told you about Mizu, you’d both been drunk, pushed against the plush of a booth against the dance floor. The music was loud, a thrum that you could feel in your bones, and Akemi’s lips kept brushing your neck and jaw as she screamed out: She fucks me so good it’s actually insane, and her, her fucking hands! god

It was fine, you thought, to talk so openly about sex and girlfriends and hook-ups. That is, until Akemi introduced Mizu to you months ago.

“A letter. For me?”

A sharp tug at your gut sobers you up for approximately two seconds before it sinks back into you and you fall against your bed. Your sheets are pulled up against you—Mizu must’ve tucked you in when she laid you down, your heart hummed at the thought.

“That’s..”

Your curtains were open, if only slightly. The lights off—the only source of light from the low lamplight in the kitchen right above the stove. Mizu was painted in moonlight, her edges a shadow in your mind.

The letter in her hands glinted in the dark—it was a wide yawning secret: a simple loose-leaf page folded and torn from old college notebooks, no envelope because you’d never thought of sending it or addressing it.

And yet—

Mizu’s eyes darted across the page, reading words you’d picked and written out. Her lips parted, her golden chain glimmering.

You felt like a buzzing thing, a livewire with no insulation, dipped in water and coated in no safety precautions. Laid out bare in messy scrawl and ink from a broken pen.

“Mizu..”

It’s the alcohol, Mizu’s hanging silence, the swirl of anxiety that stretches when Mizu’s breathing slows—nearly stops.

“You…your, but—“ Mizu looked up, her eyes unfocused, shoulders tight, and her jaw taut. Her hair pushed into her cheek, her flushed neck, “No. No, no..”

“Mizu, please. We—I didn’t know that—“

“Know what?” And then she was striding over, walking like a miracle, bathed in starlight. Her gaze burned holes into you, left you singed when she met you at the lip of your bed, “You..you wrote this?” Her face an instant away, a little closer and—

Ah, there you are, you think, just as beautiful as the first time.

“I didn’t know that you would..that—that you..”

“You love me?”

A hollowed-out panic bloomed in your belly. A heavy mandarin sitting in your stomach, swaying with every flick of Mizu’s stare into your eyes, then your lips, back to your eyes again.

“Mizu, we’ve got to have it out. I, I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve known you, and I—I tried to ignore it and Akemi—and this is not, wasn’t supposed to—“

“You love me.” A statement.

Then she was gone again. Standing up fully, a tall smear against your bedroom. She sighed and looked wrung-out and exhausted. The foldings of your heart in an ache.

“No. This isn’t right. You’re..I’m—“ She folded her head into her hands then, the most stressed you’d seen her, the most beautiful all the same, “You will find someone better. Someone who is not me, I-I am awkward and too tall and I—“

“No, no Mizu, I love you.” You say, pushing your legs out of the bed, very suddenly needing Mizu to know. The sheets tangle in your knees and you stumble.

She catches you before you fall, a star falling into the earth: warm and beating in her hands.

“I am not enough for you.” Mizu says into your embrace. She looks unearthed, an anger that melts into panic, a peeled-back vulnerability.

“Mizu I love you.”

“You’ll realize and you’ll leave and I won’t—I don’t deserve it.”

“I love you, Mizu” Your hands cupping her chin, her eyes hot and glittering in the moonlight.

“And I don’t think I’ll ever have anyone. Akemi, she is nice. She is—she’ll find out too and I’ll be alone and—“

“That’s not true. You will love someone.”

Mizu’s eyes fall onto your face, a wave ready to crush the seashore, the tide pulling in. She regards you, and she whispers No, I will not. I can’t.

“You will. You’ll love them so much because that is your way, and… and I’ll watch.”

A train passes in the distance, the refrigerator hums to life once more. You gather the pieces of yourself you’ve slathered onto Mizu, her ears pink and poking out from her bun, and you say:

“and I’ll watch.”

Mizu doesn’t say anything.

Tell me I’m wrong, you think, tell me it’s okay. tell me tell me tell me.

The ocean that stretches between you both is static, a cold that only winter could bring.

She says a singular and awful thing: “I’m sorry.”

She sets you back down onto the bed, your body heavy with the wine and your mouth can still taste it: your confession, Mizu’s rejection—not obvious but clear all the same.

You feel a cloying heavy beating in your chest when Mizu’s palms pull the blankets above you again. A presence that takes your breath.

“Go to sleep.” Mizu says. She bends down, and kisses your eyelids. They flutter open as soon as she pulls away and you know it’s a dismissal.

“Don’t tell Akemi.” You stutter out. A fear that comes with these sort of things.

Mizu nods: once and slowly. Then, she’s leaving, pulling her puffer from somewhere off your bed.

The door clicks when she leaves and the moon is a dim sinking light. No longer fluorescent against Mizu’s skin.

And you lay in your bed, with your smeared makeup, and your wine-drunk headache, and wonder if you’d be allowed to tell her, to say: I’d love the mangled up bits of you, you know. If only you’d have let me.

———

:’D

[patheticbabie]

Hi, Candice,

Igotanidea (pun intended) for you:

Jay (obviously) with a s/o reader who's afraid of physical affection. Maybe she was abused in the past or maybe sth else (your choice). So everytime he tries to get her "in the mood" (iykwim) she flinches and escapes and ices him, even if she wants him so bad. I leave it to your imagination whether he can walk past her inhibitions or not (but hopefully so, cause damn you, for posting those Jay pics :D)

TY :)

We’ll get through it - Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: body dysmorphia, past eating disorders, comfort, implied smut, angst with fluff at the end. 

Word count: 1,935

A/N: this took me a while to write, because I wanted to be careful with this theme. Also, requests are still open, but it'll take some time to get through, as I've suddenly become sick with the flu. Also thanks @igotanidea 💗

A stressful week called for date night. His idea. They’ve both hardly seen each other due to her working mornings and him late until the night, sometimes until dawn breaks. It was a nice change of pace, to be all dressed for her boyfriend.

She stood in front of the mirror checking over her makeup and painting on a deep red shade of lipstick. Standing back from the mirror, she eyed her outfit, a figure hugging red mini dress with black heels. She looked stunning, but she couldn’t help but grimace at the sight of the fat of her hips peeking through the sides of the dress. She pinched her right side and sighed and thought maybe she could go to the gym or cut back on snacks.

Making his way into their shared bedroom, Jason stopped and leaned against the doorframe, with a smile and let out a low whistle, she was a sight for sore eyes, even more so in his favourite colour. Pulling her out of her negative thoughts, she gave him a soft smile as he made his way towards her to wrap his arms around her waist.

“You look absolutely beautiful, especially in red princess.” He said softly before leaving a kiss on her neck and shoulder. 

Eyeing their reflections she couldn’t help but disagree with him, “I don’t know…love, but I think it’s a bit tight?” 

His hands made their way up to the exposed part of the dress, as he gently caressed her, “Not at all baby, to me you look perfect. Now come on, we don’t wanna miss our dinner reservations” pulling away from her, he watched as she grabbed her clutch and he held his hand out to her with a smile. 

***

Dinner going smoothly, with the two catching up on what has happened during the week, Jason talking about how Dick got his ass handed to him by a Gotham rogue for his stupid puns, she couldn’t help but laugh as he told her how it happened.

The mood lighting of the restaurant enhanced her features, even more so as she laughed. He stared softly at her with a dreamy smile. He softly grabbed her hand and intertwined their fingers “Have I ever told you how much I love your laugh, and how beautiful you look when you laugh too?”

Pink dusted her cheeks and a small laugh escaped her lips “A few times, you corny man”

“Hey, it was me being corny that won you over” he joked

In their private area in the restaurant, she got up from her seat and made her way to him, as she sat down on his thigh, delicate fingers running through his hair, catching onto the white streak. He gazed up at her and kissed her softly “I love you princess.”

She sighed softly and cupped his face “I love you too.” before pressing a soft kiss to his lips

***

The elevator ride up to their floor felt like it went forever. Teasing touches and stolen kisses were given as his girlfriend tried to push him away with a laugh. Finally reaching their floor, she grabbed his hand and led them down towards their home.

Trying to fish the keys out of her clutch, Jason had his arms wrapped around her waist and kept leaving kisses and lightly biting at her neck, grinning as she fumbled to put the keys into the lock.

“Babe…how am I supposed to get us through the door if you won’t behave?”

“Hm.. you tell me baby” he held her tighter and licked over a spot he bit a bit too hard.

Sighing with relief she finally managed to open the door to their home, before he spun her around, and picked her up effortlessly, as he shut the door with his foot and pinned her to the door. 

“Still want me to behave?” he gave her a smirk, watching how flustered she was

Shaking her head, her fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck. He chuckled at how she was at a loss for words, as he led them towards the couch, the bedroom just seemed so far away, and he didn’t know if he had that much patience to not rip the red dress that drove him crazy all night.

Sitting on the couch, he leaned back with her on his lap, as he reached for her chin to pull her closer to kiss. The red shade, also driving mad, wanting to know where else it would happen to stain. Wasting no time, she kissed him back passionately, tongues intertwined with each other, as both of their hands eager to feel one another.

When oxygen became a need, she was panting deeply, and her fingers carded their way through his hair, sighing when he left kisses down her neck traveling to her collarbones. Hips grinding against his ever growing hard on, she let out a soft moan of his name, as he bit down on her collarbone to leave a hickey. “Feels so good Jay”

Her hips moved even faster on top of his, she couldn’t help but moan loudly feeling his cock through his pants. “Fuck….please I want…I want..” she couldn’t finish her sentence, not knowing what exactly she wanted, his fingers? Lips? Cock? 

With a hum of agreement, his hands made their way to the back of her dress, easily finding the knot, before slowly undoing the bow. Stilling her movements on top of him, her eyes popped open, suddenly feeling self conscious about her body. She flinched slightly as she felt his fingers lightly tracing her hips.

Not hearing her whines or moans, he opened his eyes, and pulled back slightly to look at her, “princess what’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asked his voice laced with concern 

“I- uh…suddenly feel tired..I know I'm a mood killer. I-I’m sorry” she whispered, and if he wasn’t so close to her he wouldn’t have heard her. Getting off his lap, she stood up, gaze avoiding his as she tried to smooth down the invisible wrinkles in her dress.

Sensing something was wrong, he just nodded and gently grabbed one hand and lifted it to his lips to kiss “it’s okay honey. Don’t be sorry. How about we get changed into comfy pj’s and watch a movie and cuddle, is that okay?”

“um…I-I have an early start tomorrow. Next time yeah?” she gave him a fake smile, she hated lying to him

With a nod, he didn’t wanna push her if she didn’t want to make love or watch movies and cuddle with him. 

***

Days later, every time he tried to get her into the mood, she always had excuses. First it was that she had some work to do, second she suddenly remembered she had to go to the gym, or even lying about being tired. He thought he had done something wrong, and she felt bad, because all those times she wanted him just as much. But negative thoughts plagued her mind about how she suddenly didn’t like her body or that she looked fat in all her clothes. Which led to her going to the gym at least 3 times a week, early mornings when he was still asleep, and her skipping out on meals, just to attain a perfect physique.

It was a week later when he decided to ask her what was happening. He had noticed that she flinched away from his touches, and only resigned to pecking his lips, not sitting on his lap, and of course, the lack of meals.

He came home to find her in their bedroom, looking at her figure, and heard her mumble “there’s still fat…god why do I have to look this way?”

His brows furrowed as he heard her talk bad about herself. With a sad sigh, she let out a quiet sniffle as she slid down the front of their bed and wiped away a stray tear, “Jay didn’t fall in love with me, just to let my figure go.” she whispered to herself.

Head on her knees, her tears fell down her cheeks, unaware of him making his way into the room to sit beside her. He gently nudged her knee with his, and waited for her to acknowledge him. She looked up and her eyes were red, tears streaking down her cheeks. He looked at her sadly, and tried but failed to wipe away the tears.

She buried her head onto his chest as he held her softly and kissed her head. His heart broke hearing her sobs and choked breaths. It took a few minutes for her to calm down a little, before she heard him ask what was wrong.

“I’m sorry Jason, I feel like I let myself go. And you don’t deserve to love someone like me, completely flawed, who barely likes her own body, who can’t even keep her boyfriend satisfied.”

“Hey hey, have you met me? I’m flawed too, baby. And who cares about sex? I just want you to be happy, feel loved and safe. Tell me what’s wrong?”

Unable to meet his eyes, she wiped away the stray tears that had gathered again “It’s…I think I’ve relapsed, I’m not too sure. But since date night, I’ve been noticing things I hate about my body, which is why I’ve been avoiding you, skipping meals and going harder at the gym more than lately.”

He was patient as he listened to her, heart breaking as he heard her talk about herself in that manner. He knew about her past eating disorder, all of which stemmed from her ex best friend in school, her older sister and an ex boyfriend. He didn’t know how anyone could say such cruel things to you. Wordlessly, he gathered her into his arms, and tilted her chin up to look at him. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? You know I care about you princess, I love you so much that I wanna be the one who can take away your pain, or carry it for you when things get too tough. I’m not going away, I’m here, even when you can’t fathom why someone loves you, I’ll be here to remind you, how much I love you, and that you’re always going to be beautiful to me, no matter what shape or size you are.”

“But Jay, please don’t lie about that. I just wanna be perfect for you.”

“Who said I’m lying? And you’re always perfect to me baby.” he said softly and gently cupped her face and left a kiss on her forehead and both her cheeks. 

“I know you’re going through a rough patch right now, I understand, it’ll take time, but I’m here, I’ll always be by your side, to hold your hand, and be your personal hype man. I promise you that.”

“You really are madly in love with me, even when I look like this.” her eyes soft, with unshed tears. For once in her life, feeling as though someone might actually care enough to help her take on her problems.

“How could I not be? You’re the love of my life, and I wanna make you feel safe and loved. All your battles? We’ll get through it together, cause no way in hell am I giving you up.” he gave her a soft kiss and then held her close to his heart.

[ottiliere]

just started reading the grief complex and i will probably ramble about it later when im actually done w it (sorry) but i am SO curious about what influenced your colour choices esp for lynn. idk, your work is always extremely beautiful and dynamic but lynn always seems to stand out to me- or maybe thats confirmation bias. the colours and palletes you use for your art in this work particularly have me so so intrigued. i need to tattoo this stuff on the back of my eyelids.

When we were conceptualizing the design for lynn, both he and cam were still going to be flesh toned. at this point I was still extremely displeased with my attempts at cam (who was conceived first) so for a change of pace I shifted to try and draw Lynn for the first time. because I wanted this to be a very low-stakes and low-stress image I utilized my one secret trick I will share with you, which is that I took a very old illustration from my favorite onceler artist and adjusted the hues and crap on it to color pick and paint with for fun. And in this "for fun" drawing, he ended up being purple with orange hair. When Dane saw this I said something like yeah I'll give him human skin at a later date I just wanted to mess around blah blah. but he demanded i keep him purple so we did because I mean he looked really good purple I couldn't very well argue with that.

I then naturally decided that purple would look good with the green shade we picked for cam... purple and black are often paired up alongside green and orange for halloween. in an initial discussion we talked about how they should look a bit out of place because of this. griefcon takes place in early / mid November, so we thought they ought to look a little like halloween decorations left out past the appropriate season.

While their colors were a bit coincidental, the color of pretty much everything else is chosen deliberately. Some of these choices are symbolic and others are quite literal...the orange sky happens to be both!

Here is the aforementioned "initial" drawing of Lynn. Unlike cam who I continued to struggle with visibly until partway through the first chapter, Lynn kind of came out exactly as he was supposed to be on the first try.

[trans-luis-serra-navarro]

ok, so!! there's also another little thing about luis and the merchant that i haven't seen anyone discuss. in luis' house in the village, you can see a few packages of food (like in the first picture in your post, near the doll; it looks like a tomato soup or something??). and in the merchant's spot near the lake you can see a box of similar packages (not the same though, as far as i remember, but still they're similar, in a sense that it's still some modern food and it looks out of place in this village. it's something we only see in luis's house) sorry i don't have any pictures tho :((

so what im trying to say is that i just love that through these tiny little details we actually get a glimpse of luis's everyday life in valdelobos. i mean, just imagine him taking a boat to go on a little grocery trip to the merchant 😭😭 and it also kind of implies that luis actually knew the merchant and interacted with him somewhat regularly. like, it's not even that big of a detail, but i just love thinking about it 😭

(also don't stress yourself over answering these asks quickly!! there's no rush. i hope you're doing well!!)

Quick TW for discussions of food, starvation and animal death under cut!

@silverhexrt Thank you SO much for being so patient with me for this!!!!!!!! BUT YES YES YES OH MY GOD YOU ARE SO ABSOLUTELY RIGHT I’ve seen people talk about the canisters of food lying around his old childhood home but not NEARLY enough about the fact that those same packets of food are found elsewhere in the game too!!!!! Unfortunately I don’t have a photo on-hand of the exact model you’re talking about near the Merchant, but I do have a photo of one of the packets of tomato soup you were talking about;

Alongside the tomato soup there’s also various spices and I THIIIIIIINK what’s supposed to be a packet of noodles????

Needless to say Luis most likely did NOT have a very good diet during the last of his time spent in Valdelobos HFNUEENEUNDIDMD

And again I don’t have photos of the exact model you’re talking about but!!! YEAH!!!!!!!! You’re absolutely right!!!!!!!!!!!! Luis might’ve hung around the Merchant or even waited by his little corner stand for him to come back with decent food or cigarettes!!!! I doubt Luis would’ve been able to go along with him wherever he went cuz A) I think he would’ve escaped Valdelobos MUCH sooner if that were the case HCNWHENEUSN and B) The Merchant is kind of an enigma. Where’s he getting his stock from?????? Who knows!!!!!!!!!! He’s a mystery man we’ll never get answers for!!!!!!!!

It also makes me wonder WHY he gravitated towards those foods instead of just killing the livestock that hung around the village or eating the fish you can find hanging up on the side of the house. Did he feel bad??? Did he just not know how to effectively kill livestock????? Was he trying to preserve it???????? Or did he have a childhood preference?????? Did his Grandfather or whoever looked after him make him those foods??????? Did HE as a child wander into nearby towns to get those foods??????????????? How did his supply of food get so low????? Was Los Illuminados feeding him and the other scientists he worked with or were they starving them to death and Luis was the only one with a source of food???????????

I also wanna mention a theory a friend of mine @hamartia-grander put together- I’ll link the original post if I can find it but the tl;dr of their idea was ‘Hey! Y’know those yellow bits of paint that are splattered on crates n stuff that indicate there’s items inside in both the main game and Seperate Ways?? What if that was Luis who made them and put the items in to help himself escape later down the line?????’ And I think that paired with your theory that Luis hung around the Merchant for a while makes for a REALLY interesting narrative!!!!!!!

And also I am FAR from the first person to point this out but again. Luis clearly does NOT have a good diet while in Valdelobos. It makes me wonder if that added to the urgency of him trying to get out (I mean obviously but still HD EHENEISN HOW hungry was this guy) and if he DID survive, how would he react to returning to an environment where food is easily accessible???? How would that trauma and instinct to hoard come into play??????? Would he gain any weight as a sign of healing???????? It’s a VERY interesting subject to delve into but obviously one you’ve gotta handle with care

TL;DR is that I think people gloss over WAY too much the just. Straight-up HORROR of Luis’ situation. Like take all the supernatural elements away- this is a man trying his best to not starve to death and succumb to the same infection everyone around him has. He’s got no other scientists (they’re all dead) no other family (MEGA dead) and to me it makes the fact that his first and most important goal is helping the others instead of helping HIMSELF first all the more just. Devastating BDNEJEMSJXJ

Anyways this went SO OFF THE POINT YOU WERE MAKIMG DHENEYENDIDK but OUGH the idea of Luis and the Merchant just hanging out together trying to survive The Horrors best they can is!! SUCH a heart wrenching idea!!!!!! Thank you SO SO SO much for this ask I went INSANE over it clearly HDBEHENEJXNS

[okay-j-hannah]

You Give Them Neck Kisses

Preference

Characters: Loki, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black

Warnings:

Request: “What do you think about Loki, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black reacting to neck kisses and a good massage (when they're stressed and tired)? I love my boys 💜💜💜💜 But It's okay if you don't want to write it cause that request is overused 😅” Anon

~~~

Loki

The sky of Asgard was painted with rich colors – swirling masses of black and blue. Stars dotted the surface as if a paintbrush flecked the canvas with a white spray. A galaxy could be seen in the distance, clouds of rose gold whirling in an imaginative pattern.

(Y/N) stood against the marble balcony, draped in emerald silks, and waiting for a meteor shower. Or her prince.

The bedroom door creaked open, and a dramatic groan of exhaustion came forth.

Loki walked in already removing his royal garments. Shoulder pads, arm braces, capes, and armor, until he was down to his pants and a light tunic. “The courtroom is abominable.”

(Y/N) slowly turned from the art gallery sky to watch him crash on the bed. He bounced on the mattress as he covered his face with his hands. He groaned again.

“Was it?” She was amused by his dramatics.

He held out one of his hands to call her over, moaning, “I need you.”

She took careful steps, “With all your moaning and groaning, I’m tempted not to help you.”

“I’m doing no such thing.”

“You’re being fussy.”

“When have I ever been known to fuss?”

She laughed under her breath, beginning to crawl over the bed, “You are the fussiest prince I know.” She straddled his torso, brushing back his hair, “My poor baby.”

He looked on the brink of scolding her for the teasing, but he stopped, instead taking her hand and kissing the palm of it. She shut her mouth – clearly he was more exhausted than she thought.

After a moment of silence she put both hands into his hair, raking her fingers through the dark strands to his scalp. She massaged there, a spark of warmth seeping into her stomach to see him close his eyes at the feeling.

He let out a low groan, less whiney now and more out of relief. “Delightful, my love.”

She went further, bending down to kiss his temple, slow and full. He sighed heavy and it made her smile.

“My tired baby,” she whispered, lightly kissing down his face and to his jaw all the while massaging his scalp. “Just need a little love.”

She kissed beneath his jaw harder than his cheek, open mouthed and nipping. She sucked until another groan was drawn from him.

“What was that?” she said with a wicked grin.

He lifted a finger to her lips, shushing her, “Don’t stop.” He opened his eyes to take in her beautiful face, almost pleading when he added, “Please.”

Remus

The common room was toasty with the fire smoldering low. The only two still awake and occupying the space was (Y/N) and Remus. Him sitting on the red velvet couch and her sitting on the ground beside his legs.

His fingers were down by her head, playing with a strand of her hair.

“What am I to do with James and Sirius?” he asked, thinking aloud.

(Y/N) closed the chapter of Herbology she was supposed to be reading for homework. “You mean about their ploy to steal the House Cup out of Slughorn’s office?”

“They’re going to get into some real trouble.”

“You can’t control everything they do,” she mused, turning to rest her chin on his knee. He looked stressed and tired, as if a full moon was approaching. But she knew they were at the start of a new moon cycle and out of danger.

“I was made a Prefect for a reason,” he said quietly, “They think me the reasonable one.”

(Y/N) stood and rounded the couch, “You need to work on your worrying.” She leaned over to wrap her arms around his neck, “We’re supposed to be enjoying the evening together.”

“You’re right,” he said, lifting a hand to grab her arm. He closed his eyes and leaned back into her, “You’re always right.”

“Precisely,” she said, snuggling her head against his, eyeing a sweet spot below his ear. “And I know just the right way to stop you worrying.”

“Hm?” he hummed. He was already mesmerized with her movements, feeling his skin tingle where her lips spoke against his ear.

She ran the tip of her nose down his ear and latched her lips to just below it. Remus opened his mouth with an audible intake of breath. It made her smile as she pressed tender, lingering kisses to his skin.

“Bet you can’t think of anything now,” she murmured, nudging his head to the side. Remus gave in instantly, exposing the rest of his neck with an eager moan.

She trailed a line of wet kisses down his neck and to his shoulder. He was making wonderful, delectable sounds as she settled just above his collarbone.

“What were we talking about earlier?” she questioned, sucking on his skin and then running her tongue over it to soften the hurt.

He sounded breathless when he said, “I don’t know.”

“Good,” she whispered, “Only think of me. Only think about how this feels.” And she took his chin, pulling his face to hers. He was flushed by the time she kissed him on the lips.

Sirius

“Thomas Thornton asked me to go with him on the next Hogsmeade trip.”

Sirius, already exhausted from a day filled with two detentions and Snape managing to trip him during a duel, wasn’t in the mood to listen to his long-standing crush discuss possible dates with other boys.

He had a dark shadow over his face, his eyes almost black. There was a visible tension taking over him that (Y/N) didn’t see when he first entered the room.

His fists were clenched, and his jaw set when he replied, “What did you say?”

She looked at him tersely, “That I’d think about it.”

Sirius nodded, staring her down. It was rather unsettling to see him so stressed.

“Are you all right, Sirius?” she asked, “You don’t look well.”

He swallowed, “Just had a long day.” And he ran a hand down his face and around his neck, rubbing the ache there.

She looked concerned, “Why don’t you sit down,” she gestured to the nearby armchair. “Relax.”

Sirius took a deep breath and did as he was told, slouching in the chair. He put two fingers to the bridge of his nose but was suddenly jolted by the feeling of (Y/N)’s hands on his shoulders, massaging the tense knots.

“What happened today?” she asked sincerely.

He blinked a few times, “Nothing I want to talk about.” He finally closed his eyes at the relief by her hands, lulling his head down and groaning, “That feels good.”

The rasp of his voice sent a flurry of heat through her body, prompting her to keep going – do something more.

She licked her lips, leaning down to be near his ear, “I don’t want to go to Hogsmeade with Thomas Thornton.”

He mumbled his confusion, too focused on her fingers, “Then why didn’t you tell him that?”

“Because,” her lips were practically against his cheek, “I was waiting for someone else to ask me first.”

He opened his eyes in slight surprise, though didn’t want to move and ruin the moment. He felt her lips against his skin, tentative and sweet, and it was doing things to him. He moved his cheek towards her mouth, giving her the hint.

And she took it, placing a chaste, hot kiss there.

He tried to control his voice, leaning to the side to give her more access to his neck, “Oh? And who might that be, I wonder.”

She was still being shy, pressing another small kiss lower on his neck, speaking low and tickling his skin, “You can’t be that dense.”

Sirius laughed low and deep in his chest, loving the heat of her lips on him. And when she plucked the courage to plant a heavy, suffocating kiss along his pulse, Sirius let out a growl, reaching for her arms and pulling her into the chair.

She sat on his lap, flushed as she found the lust in his eyes. He grabbed her chin, “I won’t ask you until you kiss me properly.”

And of course she did.

~~~

Tag List:

@caswinchester2000 @aria253264 @bippity-boppity-boopa @kaqua @cameleonfrenzy @shyposttree  @chiefqueef22 @potters-heart @wife-of-mikoto-suoh @nicole-survivor @dilflover10 @mrskatpotter  @katlovesall  @unknownfacelessstuff  @andreasworlsboring101 @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @appreciating-chase-brody @multifandomfix @murder-swan​ @mxacegrey  @girl-lost-not-found​

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[chrizzysturns]

car video - dom!chris x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, fingering, use of y/n, use of 'baby', unprotected sex (wrap before you tap xx)

word count: 1105

a/n: this is my first post! hope you enjoy <33

-----------

I've been good friends with the Sturniolos for a while now. I've been in a few videos as well as photo dumps so the fans know me pretty well. However, while on stream the fans spammed the shit out of chat requesting a car video with me. And here I am!

Before we begun, Matt suggested to get some snacks, so he parked the car, taking Nick with him, leaving Chris and I.

This wasn't awkward at all. Like I said, we were really good friends. I had been left alone with him before. But the tension in the car felt different than usual.

I broke the silence and asked Chris what the car video was about.

"Well I dont fucking know ask someone else" Chris replied.

"Jeez relax dude sorry" I said, sounding offended while picking up my phone to distract myself. I had been in petty arguments before with Chris so I was used to this.

We sat in silence for another minute or two before Chris spoke up.

"Look y/n im sorry. Ive just been really stressed out all day I didnt mean to take it out on you." He genuinely sounded sorry (which was unusual) but I had already blown past it and ignored it.

I thanked him and said it was okay.

He put his phone down, opening the mirror above his head and angling it so we can make eye contact while im still in the backseat.

I looked up at Chris, his teasing eyes staring into my soul. We already had a pretty flirty friendship but the intentions this time seem much different.

"So how are you? How was your day?" I said, ignorant of the moment we just had.

"Well I already told you it was pretty shit. Matt and Nick have been fucking annoying me all day and the Pepsi ran out and we were supposed to put together some new merch designs but they didnt fucking get back to me." Chris said with irritation through his voice.

I couldn't help but get turned on whenever he was mad. The way his brows furrowed, his eyes turning to a darker blue and his veins popped out made me feel wet already.

"I'm sure youll figure it out Chris. It was probably just a bad day, dont let it affect you too much" I said, taking off my jumper, revealing my low cut top.

Chris turned back at the sound of my zipper, curious to see what I was doing. As he saw my top, I noticed him lower the mirror down.

"Chris!" I yelled and he immediately apologised.

"Sorry sorry sorry I just... I don't know i'm so sorry y/n" He said mumbling.

"Its fine just-" My sentence was cut short as my eyes immediately drew attention to the very obvious tent in his pants, that he had no shame of.

My jaw hung low, picking up the attention of Chris.

Unsure of what to do next he looked down, noticing what I was obviously staring at, frozen in fear.

I crawled up into the driver's seat, turning around over the middle so my shorts pulled up, giving him a good angle of my ass.

Now sat in the driver seat I looked at him with needy eyes, palming his erection, while he moved his seat back, biting his lip and providing me space to sit between his legs.

Both of us speechless, I then crawled over and around his waist, straddling him.

I began bouncing up and down over his jean-covered erection, his dick rubbing against my heat.

"Fuck y/n" He moaned, snaking his hands around my waist, resting his head between my boobs.

After a minute or so, I stop. He looks disappointed for a moment, thinking that was the end. I move backwards towards his knees, peeling his jeans zipper open as his erection springs out.

It's massive. Wayyyy bigger than I thought.

Chris saw the pure look of terror painted on my face and he smirked to himself, impressed.

I wasn't going to let him have that ego boost.

I quickly took my top and shorts off, exposing my black laced matching bra and panties.

He ripped off my bra and sucked my sensitive nipples, before quickly moving my panties to the side, and sticking 2 fingers inside.

"Fuck Chris" I moaned uncontrollably. His long fingers curling inside me, hitting all right spots.

He reached depths and hit points no man has ever done before. Bouncing on him myself just to get there quicker was my final option as this man lovedddd to tease.

"Chris im gonna cu-"

"The fuck you're not. Our first time on my fingers? pfttttt."

I was left speechless and he shoved his dick inside of me without a second thought.

Grinding into me, my head hitting the ceiling of the car each time.

I was in pain due to his size but it hurt sooo good.

He stuck 2 fingers into my mouth to stop me from moaning so loud. I couldnt help myself. Swirling them around my tongue only got him more worked up.

His piercing blue eyes stared directly through to my soul as I told him again I was going to cum.

"Chris chris chris baby please"

"You got this baby. Let it out"

I creamed all over his throbbing, twitching dick. Moans exiting my mouth as the tight knot in my stomach was freed.

Chris busted inside me seconds later. I felt strings of his cream all inside of me and the moans that left him were enough to encourage me for round two.

Just as I was about to suggest it, I see Nick and Matt walking out the store.

With about 30 seconds to clean up, act like nothing happened and put our clothes back on, we got to it straight away.

Chris kissed each of my boobs and each ass cheek multiple times before I covered them up, getting one good last taste of them.

He got tissues from the glovebox infront of him to clean up his mess while I opened my phone, pretending not to notice Matt in the rear view mirror, 5 meters away from me.

"What the fuck is that smell?" Matt asked, Nick agreeing.

"Chris farted" I said, anxious theyd notice. Chris looked at me with sexy but disspointed eyes while laughing.

"What the fuck did you eat?" Nick said, and we all laughed.

The entire car video consisted of laughing, asking me questions, Chris looking at me through his mirror, me teasing him with my lowcut top again, and more laughing.

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a/n: heyy queens!! hope u enjoyeddd, this was my first ever fanfic so please if u have any suggestions for improvement lmkk!!! im thinking of making a part 2 so if u want to be on a taglist message me or comment and also send suggestions!! <3

[exileseverafter]

GT July 2024: Overbearing

Characters are from The Exiles Ever After on AO3.

Marjorie: Human, handmaiden and bodyguard to Princess Philomene. Also a jester, but they're very far from court at the moment. Philomene: Princess Philomene Marl Thumbelina, a Flowerling (about 3 inches tall) who had to flee Thumbelina Kingdom due to a disastrous curse.

Marjorie moved through the village with a perfectly painted smile, her acting skills presenting her to all the (human) world as merely a young, wealthy woman visiting the countryside for her ailing health. She knew exactly what to say to charm a few extra apples out of a merchant and how to slip into even a small crowd in order to detract attention from herself. She could not let even a little bit of insecurity or fear slip through, in case anyone decided she might have something to hide.

Which she very much did.

“Marjorie,” a tiny voice called up from the inconspicuous pouch she wore in her dress, “do you see anything suspicious? Any unusual plants? I suppose that would be too obvious, wouldn’t it. Still, even so much as a rose that’s a little off-color?”

The young woman covered her face with her fan so no one would notice her quailing as she ducked into a small alleyway, peering down at the pouch.

“Pardon, Your Highness,” she whispered, “but please, I don’t think anyone should see us conversing! I don’t want to draw attention to you!”

“I know, I know. But this is my investigation too!” Technically, the Flowerling princess Philomene was heading it. “If you’re to be my eyes and ears I need to offer input, don’t I?” She was peering out from the entrance now, up at her human handmaiden and bodyguard.

“Yes, but…” 

Philomene was usually very cautious and aware of how perilous the human world was for Flowerlings, who could sit comfortably in a human hand, but being separated from her kingdom had understandably put her on edge. She was clearly in a hurry to get back to her research, though there was little to be done about that until they found a decent place for them both to hide.

“You could get pickpocketed. They might think I have some kind of fancy toy with me someone could sell. Worse, they might realize you’re not just a Flowerling traveling outside of a Colony-City, you’re obviously someone of importance.” 

“Ah, you’re…worried I might be kidnapped and held for ransom, Marjorie?”

“I know it sounds dramatic, but, you are a princess.” Even Marjorie knew that things just tended to happen to princesses in stories, and those were usually human-sized ones. Philomene could be kidnapped by a crow if Marjorie wasn’t careful.

The tiny princess sighed and shuffled around to a sitting position in her pouch, the layers of her flower petal-like gown falling around her. “You’re right, I am being foolhardy. I will keep a low profile. But in return, once we find a place to stay, please do remember that you don’t need to hover over me all the time. You’ll make yourself ill with the stress, and I am older,” she added with a hint of humor to her voice.

Marjorie gazed down at her royal charge, then let her shoulders sag. “I suppose if I make myself ill that’ll just be more trouble for you. Alright, do keep a low profile and I’ll find you some privacy. In fact,” she said as she spotted a fancy dollhouse in a shop window, “I think I have just the thing!”