#but I don't think I have the time patience or wrist strength for that

[annadiplosis]

I've made index cards highlighting the most important contents of each one of my notebooks. Still haven't decided if I want to keep them all in the same place as a general archive or tuck them into their corresponding books for easy browsing, but I'm in love with them.

(Huge thanks/shoutout to @petite-gloom for talking about these particular index cards on her blog awhile ago! I discovered them thanks to her, and I couldn't be happier ♡)

[newobsessionweekly]

No way out

part 1

Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: When you finally find the courage to take action against your abusive boyfriend, Tim is there to save you. And something happens inside the two of you.

Angst

Warnings: Domestic abuse, emotional distress, violence, protective behavior, slow-burn romance, language.

A/N: As I promised, I will be more active around here. I got a request and decided to turn it into a mini series, I hope you'll like it. Feedback is always appreciated!! Take care of yourselves, bubs! Lots of love! 🫶🏻✨

Words: -

You were gasping for air before you even hit the floor.

The impact of your body slamming into the hardwood rattled your bones, but it was nothing compared to the suffocating terror gripping your chest. The room was spinning, but you forced yourself to look up—his shadow loomed over you, sharp and menacing under the dim light.

"You're always making me do this," he seethed, his voice thick with anger. "Why do you have to push me?"

You curled into yourself, the familiar sting of his words cutting just as deep as the bruises that would form later. Your body ached, but it was the emotional toll that shattered you the most. Because you knew him. You knew the boy he used to be—the high school sweetheart who held your hand in the hallways, who kissed you under the bleachers, who swore he’d never hurt you.

But that version of him was long gone.

A sob choked in your throat as you turned your head, eyeing your phone on the couch just a few feet away. He was pacing now, running a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath about how sorry he was, how it wasn’t his fault.

It was now or never.

With all the strength left in you, you lunged for the phone, snatching it into your trembling hands as you scrambled backward. He spun around, rage twisting his face.

"Don't you dare—"

You pressed 911.

"911, what’s your emergency?"

Your voice cracked. "Please, I—I need help. My boyfriend—he—"

A hand yanked your wrist so hard you thought it might break. The phone clattered to the floor, but the call was still connected.

"You think they can help you?" he sneered, gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him. "You're nothing without me."

But he was wrong. For the first time in years, you felt something shift inside you. A quiet, burning defiance.

And then, in the distance—sirens.

Tim Bradford had answered countless domestic calls. Some ended peacefully, some turned violent, but every single one had the same thread of despair woven through them.

Tonight felt different.

Lucy kept checking the address, her expression tight. “Tim,” she said suddenly. “I know her.”

He flicked a glance at her, hands steady on the wheel. “Who?”

“The victim. Y/N. She’s my friend.”

His jaw flexed. He didn’t like that. “You knew she was in trouble?”

Lucy hesitated. “I—suspected. I asked her before, but she never admitted it.”

Tim exhaled sharply through his nose.

They pulled up to the house—lights off, curtains drawn. The kind of place where bad things happened in silence.

He stepped out first, scanning the surroundings. He didn’t like this either. The neighborhood was quiet, too quiet. He unholstered his weapon, nodding at Lucy to follow.

They approached the door. Tim knocked, hard. “LAPD! Open up!”

Nothing.

He could hear muffled yelling inside, a crash, then a choked cry.

Tim's patience snapped. He stepped back and kicked the door open in one powerful motion, the wood splintering under his boot.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

You were on the floor, bruised, tears streaking down your face. And your boyfriend—your attacker—stood over you, his face twisted in fury.

"Get your hands where I can see them!" Tim barked, stepping between you and the man without a second thought.

"She’s my girlfriend!" the guy snapped. "This is none of your business!"

Tim had him pinned against the wall in two steps. He twisted the guy’s arm behind his back, forcing him to his knees. “You like hurting people?” Tim growled. “Try me.”

Your boyfriend grunted in pain, but Tim didn’t care. He snapped the cuffs on, yanking him upright.

Lucy immediately rushed to you. “Hey, hey, are you okay?”

Your eyes were still locked on Tim. He wasn’t sure what you were looking at—the gun, the badge, or something else entirely.

“Y/N.” Lucy touched your arm, voice soft. “You’re safe.”

Your breath came out in a shudder, and your knees nearly buckled. Tim watched as Lucy steadied you, gently guiding you toward the couch.

For the first time since they arrived, you exhaled.

The paramedics checked you over, but Tim never left your side. He told himself he was just being thorough, but deep down, he knew better.

Lucy knelt beside you, guilt written all over her face. "I’m so sorry. I should have seen the signs. I should have helped—"

You shook your head. "You couldn’t have known."

Tim watched the way your hand trembled against the blanket draped over your shoulders. Without thinking, he reached out, gripping your fingers lightly.

Your breath hitched. His touch was warm, grounding, and for the first time in years, you felt safe.

It was wrong. You had just gotten out of hell, and here you were, noticing the strength in his hands, the way his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

But when he squeezed your hand back—just a little—you knew he felt it too. Something dangerous simmers in his gaze, something fierce and protective and angry—not at you, but for you.

The night ends in a blur. Statements. Paperwork. More questions than you have answers for. But through it all, Tim is there.

He stands close—not too close, but enough that you feel his presence like a shield. Whenever someone else talks to you, his eyes never leave you.

It's overwhelming. And yet... comforting. You don't even realize how exhausted you are until it’s over.

"You have somewhere to stay?" Tim asks.

Lucy speaks before you can. "She’s staying with me."

Tim nods, but something about his expression stays tight, unreadable. His eyes flick to yours once more, and for a split second, you swear you see something there—something you shouldn’t.

And then he turns away.

When Tim gets back in the shop, he doesn’t start the engine.

Instead, he turns to Lucy. And snaps.

"What the hell, Lucy?" His voice is sharp, cutting. "You’re a cop. How did you not see what was happening to your own friend?"

Lucy’s eyes widen. "Tim, I—"

"You should have known," he growls, slamming his hands against the wheel. "You should have done something."

"I didn’t know!"

"That’s the problem!"

The car falls silent.

Lucy swallows hard, guilt written all over her face. "Why do you care so much?"

Tim opens his mouth—then closes it. He doesn’t know.

But something about the way you looked at him—something about the way he felt when he saw you on that floor—unsettles him.

And for the first time in a long time, Tim Bradford doesn’t know what to do with himself.

[sweetlikecandysstuff]

Luca changretta x reader

Choices.

This follows a plot I found in c.ai, authored by "@SLUT4REID", I loved that bot, so I decided to try and write something following that storyline except this focuses more on Luca’s feelings and emotions, guys I love men who yearn , so I hope whoever reads this enjoys it. And I'm just starting to write so please feel free to give advice or any opinion :)

No warnings

Part 2

(I've had the GIF for a long time and I really don't know who posted it on pinterest originally.)

Luca Changretta had waited for this moment longer than he cared to admit.

Sitting on your couch, glass of whiskey in hand, he watched the door, his patience as unshakable as ever. The Black Hand had been delivered to the Shelbys—every single one of them. Except you. Not because you weren’t one of them, not because you were forgotten, but because Luca had no desire to see you suffer.

No, his intentions for you were entirely different.

When the door finally creaked open and you stepped inside, his dark eyes drank in the sight of you, the familiar fire in your gaze, the cautious way you held yourself. You were confused, caught off guard, and yet—Luca saw the flicker of recognition, the silent acknowledgment that a part of you had always known he’d find his way to you eventually.

“I was waiting for you, amore.”

His voice was smooth, warm, but beneath it lay an undercurrent of something deeper—something unspoken.

You hesitated, eyes darting to him, to the drink in his hand, to the way he seemed so at home in your space. “I don’t remember inviting you in.”

Luca smiled, but it wasn’t just amusement—it was possession, longing wrapped in silk. “Didn’t think you’d mind.”

He could see the questions forming behind your eyes, the calculations, the sharp wit he had always admired about you. And yet, the thing that mattered most—the reason he was here—hung between you like a thread waiting to snap.

“Why didn’t I get one?” you finally asked, voice steady despite the tension coiling in the air.

He set his glass down carefully, his fingers lingering on the rim before he leaned forward, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “Because I don’t want to kill you.”

The words were simple, but their weight was immeasurable. He had built his empire on power, on vengeance, on blood. And yet, for you, he had rewritten his own rules.

He stood then, moving toward you with a slow, deliberate grace, his voice low. “You walked away from them, but you’re still here, still close enough to be caught in this war.” His jaw tightened, his restraint palpable. “And I can’t allow that.”

Your eyes narrowed. “So what, you think you can just walk in here and threaten me into submission?”

His expression softened—just a fraction. “No, cara mia,” he murmured. “I’m here to offer you something else.”

You watched him warily as he reached for your hand, his touch light but searing. “A deal?”

“A life.” His voice dipped lower, rich with something raw. “With me.”

You stiffened, but he didn’t let go. “Marry me, and the war ends. Your family lives.”

Your breath caught. The words should have felt like a calculated move, another strategic play in the game of blood and power. But Luca knew the truth. This wasn’t about strategy. It wasn’t about conquest.

It was about you.

He had watched you from the shadows, admired the fire in you, the way you carried yourself with a strength that rivaled his own. And he had wanted you—long before the war, long before the bloodshed. This wasn’t a deal for him. It was the only way he knew to keep you, to have you without forcing you into his world in a way that would break you.

His thumb traced slow circles against your wrist, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I would give you everything, tesoro mio. A life of comfort, of security. No fear. No war.” His eyes darkened, his fingers tightening just slightly. “And I would cherish you in ways no man ever could.”

You swallowed hard, your mind warring with itself, with the undeniable truth in his gaze.

“And if I say no?”

His jaw clenched, but not with anger—with something far more vulnerable. “Then I fight. And people will die.”

A heavy silence stretched between you. Luca’s grip remained firm but gentle, his thumb still brushing against your skin as though grounding himself in the reality of having you this close.

He searched your face, desperate for something—acceptance, understanding, anything to tell him you could see what this truly was. That you knew this offer wasn’t a move to seize power but a plea from a man who had already surrendered to something far greater.

“Think about it, amore,” he murmured, his voice barely above a breath. “I’ll be waiting.”

And for the first time in his life, Luca Changretta felt what it was like to be at the mercy of someone else’s choice.

[rosemaze-reveries]

This is going to be a heavy request, so if it's not your cup of tea please feel free to delete this or not acknowledge it, please.

That being said, would it be okay to request a comforting scenario involving at least Norton with a reader who struggles with SH? And if I had to push, maybe Ithaqua and Luchino as well?

On a separate note, I love your writing and blog. Your past posts are both entertaining and comforting to read. I don't use Tumblr a lot but I check back in to see if you and a few other blogs have updated. Thank you for your time, and I hope you're well.

this kind of comfort fic can be hard to come by, i know 🥲 thank you for the req and the well wishes♡ same to you

inspiration hit for luchino first so i'll post his for now. the others will be linked here as they get finished. they won't all be this heavy on the medical care, i promise!

luchino diruse x you he dresses your wounds; you worry you're a burden to him

⚠️ graphic SH wounds, medical treatment (stitches)

Luchino’s ears prick at the sound of your footsteps.

He could hear you from a mile away—one of the perks of being part-reptile—as you sidestep the creaks in the floorboards, careful not to draw the attention of any curious night prowlers. He hears you pause at his door, your fist hovering above the wood, mustering the strength for that impossible knock. This happens occasionally. Sometimes you decide against it and retreat back to your room. Luchino never stops you, just like he never tells you that he’s been counting each of your visits, even the ones you think escape his notice.

Just when he thinks the silence has lasted a beat too long, his gaze drifts to the door, and it creaks open without a knock. Apparently you’ve decided to skip over it altogether. Not that that bothers him; he was hoping you’d choose him from the start. You’re slow and deliberate when you push the door in, giving him time to protest if he needs to. He doesn’t.

“Still awake?” you whisper.

Luchino is sitting in his reading chair. It’s the only lit corner of his room, with an open book in his lap and an apple core browning on the table beside him. Clearly he’s retired for the night. The sight of it makes your stomach churn, as you know you’re disturbing his quiet evening, but you’re not sure what else you expected. He flashes you a tender smile.

“As a matter of fact,” he says, closing his book and passing it to the table, “sleep has abandoned me entirely. Staying here tonight?”

His question doesn’t hear its answer. You wander into the room, shutting the door behind you. It wouldn’t take a fool to know you’re a little out of sorts—you haven’t even acknowledged him, and your eyes sweep the room erratically, trying to land on anything but him. Luchino watches you with curious patience. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek. Best to just get it out with.

“Stitches came out again,” you say.

He doesn’t bat an eye. “On their own?”

“Mhm.”

As he stands up, your legs stiffen, hanging under you like lead. All you can do is send him a glassy stare when he comes to inspect your arm. Luchino had just refitted your sutures a few days ago, after their first instance of “falling out on their own.” He’s well aware that wasn’t really the case. Even if he won’t admit to it outright, you know he knows, and you both keep the lie going anyway. He’s considerate like that. Or maybe he’s just placating you. Blaming sloppy stitches should be a blatant insult to his medical expertise, and Luchino is far from unskilled with the needle. Even so, this is one detail he never questions you on.

He curls his fingers gently around your wrist. You’re wearing a loose nightshirt with sleeves that reach your elbows. Somewhere in the back of his head, he finds it unusual that you’d walk around the manor with your forearms exposed, but he reasons that this was urgent enough to warrant an exception. It’s a grisly sight. Frayed silk knots dot your skin, all tattered and picked at, and the wounds between them have begun to pool again. He heaves a sigh as he examines it all. Guilt spikes through your throat.

“I could go find Dr. Dyer instead,” you offer, already trying to pull away. Luchino’s gaze flicks up from your arm. The eyes reflecting back at him are wide and winded and pierce straight through him, as if afraid of something he can’t see. He cups a warm hand around the base of your neck.

“This is nothing you and I can’t manage,” he says. His thumb tenderly traces over your cheek. “They won’t heal as neatly as they might’ve before, that’s all. Wait in my chair.”

He releases you to rummage through his bedside cabinet, where he fishes out some ampoules and a leather tool bag. You don’t move right away. The longer your eyes linger on Luchino’s frame, a burning sensation prickles over them, but no tears want to fall. He turns around with an armful of medical supplies.

“Are you feeling faint?” he asks.

“Kind of,” you admit. The dizziness hasn’t whittled away your consciousness yet, at least.

“Well, I’d rather not have you testing gravity today. Sit down.”

His chair is still warm from his late-night reading. You watch him clear away his book and the apple core before spreading a cloth on the table. You’re thankful he’s able to stay so calm each time this happens, chatting with you as if this is a practised routine. But he surely can’t be ecstatic about having extra work to do this late. Work that could’ve been avoidable, at that. The guilt clouding your mind wins you over again.

“You’re too good to me,” you murmur, eyes drifting to the floor. “Do you ever regret it?”

“Being good to you?”

“Putting up with me. I can’t imagine it’s been fun.”

“No,” he agrees, unraveling the leather bag. “Seeing you this way grieves me in a way I’ve never known before—hold out your arm.” One of the ampoules contains some kind of clear fluid, an anesthetic he made himself. He breaks off the neck. “But I’ve never considered this to be ‘putting up’ with you.”

“Would’ve been easier to find someone who doesn’t have all these problems.”

“And lose out on you? Not a chance, my dear.”

That cheeky pet name prompts you to shoot him a glance. He ruffles your hair.

“Too good to me,” you mutter again, looking away.

“One of the many pitfalls of being in love, I’m afraid.”

Forceps, scissors, needle and thread. As he lays out the rest of his equipment, your heart skips a beat. This is always the worst part. You always forget how much you dread it until it’s right in front of you. Watching him draw a syringe of that anesthetic, you instinctively squeeze your thighs, clenching your jaw and fists to steel your nerves.

It takes two doses to numb each stitch. Luchino says he’s working on a stronger anesthetic, one that can be ingested, or at the very least one that numbs a larger area. But he is staunchly against the idea of using you as a lab rat, so you’re not sure how far along its progress has gotten. For now you’re stuck with this method. You suppose you don’t hide the unease on your face very well. All he needs is one look at you before he reaches for the foot of his bed. There he grabs the crumpled shirt he wore earlier that day, balling it tight and holding it to your lips.

“Open.”

Thankful to have something to bite down on, you roll your eyes to the ceiling, toes curling off the floor.

Luchino works quickly. You can’t bring yourself to watch, though. He finishes dressing your fresh stitches in thick layers of gauze. You’re sure it’s to deter you from picking at them again. At least for another night, you think, but you refuse to voice that thought. You murmur out an awkward thank-you for treating you.

Instead of answering Luchino keeps his gaze fixed on your arm. It’s silent and scrutinizing, lost in thought. You know that look in his eye—he’s caught on to something. You quickly jump up, trying to sidle past him, but he catches your arm.

“(Y/N),” he starts, standing with you. You don’t say anything. His fingers find your sleeve and slowly begin to roll it up your shoulder. There’s no hiding this from him anymore. He’d figured out your patterns a long time ago. You can’t stop your secret from being exposed, but you can keep your gaze locked on him, searching anxiously for a flash of annoyance, exhaustion, bitterness—anything to reveal how much of a nuisance he finds you. Surprise, you think. More work for you. Aren’t I inconvenient?

Luchino lets no indication of his thoughts appear on his face. All he does is trace a gentle finger alongside a barely-congealed string of blood. These ones are new. There’s a long strip of them, neatly in a row, just a few hours old.

“They’re not too deep,” he observes. “The bleeding’s already stopped. I’ll bandage them now.”

He smoothes down your sleeve and looks at you for a moment. Then he lets out a sigh, drawing your body into his chest. You let him hold you, not quite returning the embrace.

“Will you find me before this happens next time?” he asks.

You don’t answer.

[spicyllewyn]

When you walk away.

Moon system x F ! Reader.

"When you walk away, Cut me open, take my heart So we'll never be apart Don't you let it go to waste."

Tags & warnings. NSFW, NON-CONSENSUAL. (+18)

Word count. 2.5k

Summary. You, literally, physically, cannot break with your boyfriends. (Inspired by the reddit story.)

The 4 of you were in tune, just as you had been throughout your entire relationship. Steven, Marc, and Jake were aware that this would happen at some point or another, much to their liking sooner rather than later, but sometimes there's not much you can do. Sometimes, being the keyword.

As time passed, your patience dwindled little by little. Cleaning Jake's wounds, comforting Steven's nightmares, and picking up the broken pieces of Marc's fits of anger became 'too much' when you realized that you were the one living with pain silently most of the time.

It wasn't their fault, you were aware of that, you couldn't deny that they loved you, and you didn't have the strength to lie to yourself about it, but you also knew that there was no way they would rid themselves of the title of vigilante. Khonshu didn't let them go, but they didn't fight as much as you would like either.

The sound of the door pulled you out of your thoughts, and one last time Marc's exhausted expression caused a stir in your heart. You gave him a small smile, and he, seeing that strange expression, knew that the day had come.

"What are you doing awake?" He closed the door behind him.

"I was waiting for you." When your body shifted to one side of the couch, there was space for him beside you. Marc understood, the couch creaked under his weight, he was right at the corner of it, raising his arm to the backrest to be able to touch your shoulder with his fingers in a loving gesture. "We need to talk."

He nodded silently, his breath hitched but he managed to disguise it for you.

"I can't do this anymore, Marc." Your voice broke when you said his name, and he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze as if trying to convey the strength you needed to continue. "I love you but I think this isn't the best for either of us."

He nodded again, biting the inside of his cheek.

"I understand." He didn't make a scene, he didn't raise his voice, and he didn't plead, and even though the tears trapped in his eyes portrayed the real pain he felt, you knew he loved you too much to make this harder for you.

Marc would never turn the knife that he had already stabbed you with when he agreed to be in a relationship with you. He pulled your wrist and with a push, he brought you against his chest where you cried for a good 10 minutes until his voice caught your attention.

"I'm going to leave, okay?"

"You don't have to do it, not now." You checked the time on his watch; he still had an arm around you. "It's late."

"I need to be alone." His lips occasionally brushed against your hair, small kisses that carried the scent of your shampoo. "Please."

This time it was your turn to nod silently.

Your bodies broke the hug, and both of you felt the cold of the night hit you like a truck. You watched with crossed arms as he removed Steven and Jake's posters from the walls; he never liked putting up decorations of that kind.

He packed up what he could in some boxes, books, clothes, even a picture frame with a photo of both of you, he loaded everything into Jake's car.

He took your cheeks one last time, and you enjoyed the taste of mint in his mouth, those chewing gums he used to try to relax his anxiety, those that never worked. When Marc left, you sent a couple of messages to acquaintances to break the news because you had been together for so long that your partner could already be considered part of your family and your group of friends; you received some immediate responses.

Mostly words of encouragement, regretting that things hadn't worked out.

You went to sleep in a cold, lonely bed, but with a strange sensation, as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You had the chance to start over, to live a life with fewer worries.

Things could get better.

Steven's late-night podcast woke you up around 10 in the morning on Saturday, accompanied by a delicious scent of waffles; you knew it was him because the coconut aroma always prevailed in his vegan breakfasts.

Without opening your eyes, you complained to yourself. Were they trying to change your mind now? You were ready to argue.

The feeling of discomfort caught your breath in your lungs when you opened your eyes and saw the posters back on the wall. Looking down was also a surprise; you were wearing one of Steven's shirts, your favorite for sleeping.

You could swear Marc had taken it the day before along with many of his things.

"Love?" Steven's smile slowly faded when you appeared in the kitchen, an uncomfortable expression on your face. "Is something wrong? Are you okay?" He stopped what he was doing to walk up to you, his delicate touch landing on your cheeks just as Marc had done the night before, squeezing them to get your attention.

"I think... mhm." You let him interrupt you with a kiss. "I had a bad dream." Or at least, that's what you were trying to convince yourself. There was no other explanation for this happening.

"Sorry for leaving you alone in bed, I was starving." He looked genuinely concerned as his forehead rested against yours. "I made waffles for you; I know they're your favorites."

You spent the morning with him, and Steven being as affectionate as always didn't surprise you; that simply was Steven's personality. As the day went on, you understood that you had only experienced an extremely lucid dream, so you would have to go through this again somehow.

While your boyfriend rested his head on your lap, you stretched just a bit to grab your phone, which lit up with a message arrival, and you took the opportunity to check one last time that you weren't going crazy. You scrolled through all the messages, and there was none talking about breakups or anything close; in fact, your last message had been sent to their shared phone, you saying you missed them without receiving a response.

Your other hand, almost by inertia, played with Steven's curls as you searched for any sign that told you that the previous night had indeed happened.

Nothing.

"Are you okay?" He mumbled sleepily; apparently, your fingers had tensed in his hair.

"Mhm." You swallowed hard. You couldn't do this again; it felt like a cruel joke of life. "Can we talk? Please?"

Very much against his will, he straightened his back and faced you. Those beautiful brown eyes with dark circles underneath looked at you with as much admiration as they always had, his fingers intertwined with yours, and his thumbs stroked your hands.

"What's wrong, love?"

"We can't be together anymore." It was better if you did it bluntly, as if ripping off a band-aid all at once rather than doing it slowly.

His expression gradually fell, tears filled his eyes, his brow furrowed, and a small pout appeared on his lips. His fingers slowly tightened around yours.

Your hands hurt from the way he clung to you.

"Steven, you're hurting me." You sobbed too when you saw him cry openly. When you stood up, he fell to his knees in front of you without letting go. If only your dream had been real; going through this was hurting your heart twice as much as you had ever imagined.

Another reminder that Marc and Steven were not the same person.

"Sorry, I-I'm sorry." He stuttered as you helped him to his feet. He released your hands to hug you against his chest, almost cutting off your breath with the suddenness of his movements. "I'm sorry, love."

Sorry for what? He hadn't done anything wrong in the relationship; not all breakups arose from mistakes on either side, sometimes things just didn't work out, and that was it.

He, internally, knew very well why he was apologizing to you.

"I need to be alone, Steven." You whispered when you felt him hiccup against you in pain; his shirt you were wearing felt damp by now at shoulder level.

You gently pushed him back by the chest, and he took a step back, still trembling.

"I... Y-yeah, of course, I... understand." He forced himself to take a step back.

"Jake's car keys are where they always are." With heaviness, you had to turn your back on him, or you knew he would never leave. You could feel his brown orbs glued to you for just a few seconds before the slam of the door made you startle.

You ran your hands over your face in desperation. Facing it a second time had been worse, but things were done, fortunately, and you could talk about it better later, or at least that's what you hoped, when he felt calmer.

You sent messages giving the news, unlike your dream, this time it was a way to beg that no one asked about Jake, Marc, or Steven. You didn't have the strength.

A pair of arms tightened around you strongly causing you to groan in the middle of your sleep. You snapped your eyes open, feeling suffocated by the pressure.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You slurred as you struggled to get out of his grip.

“What's wrong, princesa?” He growled lowly as he pulled you tighter against him. He raised his head a little so he could look at you. He had barely one eye open, and thus he managed to look confused.

“Let go of me, Jake!” You were noticeably upset, his arms seemed to enclose you with increasing force as if he didn't notice that you were on the verge of a panic attack. The previous few hours hadn't been a dream, you were sure.

Your back hit his chest and you felt his breath on your neck.

“Wasn't one round enough for you?" His hips collided with yours to give emphasis to his words. “Do you want me to get you tired, amor?” One of his arms continued to take your breath away while his right hand moved down your body, stopping at one of your tits, squeezing it with his fingers almost in a playful way before continuing to crawl downwards, heading between your legs.

“Let go of me, I don't even know what the fuck you're doing here.”

Your voice cracked, breaking his heart.

But not as much as it would break him to let you go.

“I live here, tontita.” His fingers were rubbing against your pussy lips slowly. Up and down, forcing you to open your legs a little more.

“Jake, please.” Your eyes were filled with tears. This was a horrible nightmare.

“Shh, be a good girl for me, okay? I had a long day.”

You didn't even put in any strength. You didn't have it anymore. As his fingers played with you, his hips pushed against your ass, over and over, rubbing his boner against you.

He was going to admit it, even he couldn't imagine being attracted to the idea of ​​something like this. But after your attempts to escape, this felt like a way to reaffirm that you belonged to him.

“Look how wet you are, did you miss me?” When he got tired of his fingers doing the work he forced them into your mouth, making you taste yourself.

Steven's shirt that you again didn't remember wearing made his job easier, only pushing aside your panties to insert his cock deep inside your being in a single thrust. And you no longer knew if you were sobbing from pleasure or fear.

You didn't remember him being so rough to you before. With one push he flipped you onto your stomach with him crushing your entire body, where he could thrust more comfortably with a handful of your hair tangled in his fingers.

You heard the bed creak, his gasps, and you felt your face wet from your saliva and tears filling your pillow.

“Fuck, that's just w-what I needed.” He was using you. You could recognize it, sex between you always meant pleasure for both of you, now he seemed to be using you as a thing where to leave his cum.

Between tears and kicking, deep down, you knew you were liking it.

He didn't last long, not right when he discovered how much he liked taking you this way. You slept with him next to you, with his sperm running down your legs and wishing this too had just been a dream.

You didn't search for them around the apartment the following morning; as soon as you got up, you ran straight to grab a suitcase, if you didn't escape your own damn mind was going to drive you crazy.

Three days had been enough to make it difficult for you to differentiate between reality and your lucid dreams or whatever it was you were experiencing. You bumped into Marc as you exited the room.

"Woah, what's going on?"

You didn't even respond to him; you couldn't even look him in the face after what they had done to you.

"Move!" You pushed him as hard as you could, grabbing your phone, which for the third time had not a single message about the breakup.

"Sweetheart?"

"How the hell dare you ask me what's wrong!?" You were shattered, your mind, your body, you. "Last night, Jake... "

"Huh?" He interrupted you with a furrowed brow. "We just got here, sweetheart."

No, no, no, no, he was lying to you.

He had to be lying to you. You wanted to wipe that confused expression off his face with punches and tear off the hand he was using to point at Jake's car keys in their place.

You put them there; he just threw them wherever when he arrived.

And truth be told, when you looked down between your legs, you were almost too clean.

You were going crazy.

"Fuck off, Marc." Erratically, you ripped the charger off your phone from the wall and almost ran to the front door as if he were chasing you. Which clearly he wasn't. In fact, he wasn't doing anything except looking confused. "You and Steven and Jake, leave me alone."

The slam of the door made you feel free, as did the car horns and sounds of street vendors.

That night, you searched for the farthest motel you could find; you kept your phone off after sending messages to acquaintances assuring them you were okay but didn't feel comfortable sharing your location with them at the moment.

Ah, and at least you had a good night's sleep, after a long time.

“Pancakes or waffles?”

Steven's voice made you snap your eyes open. Your head was on his arm, and you felt the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed against your back.

Tears filled your eyes when you recognized the place around you.

Your home.

When your sobs reached your boyfriend's ears, you immediately felt him place a kiss on your shoulder.

"What's wrong, honey? Did you have a bad dream?"

:)

[luveline]

your spencer writing is so beautiful jadey! i was wondering if we could get some hurt comfort where reader really struggles after a case and he comforts her? <3

thank you ♡

Grief for other people can vary in strength. Ever present, occasionally numbing, tonight's case has left you neck deep in it, and the feeling needs to come out. Tears slink down your face in lazy rivers. You keep thinking you'll stop crying. Then you remember her hand, soft with newness and curled in death, and it starts again. 

It hurts to cry. You don't attempt to stop; you don't think about it, or the team, or the heat at your side, you just think about the girl's hand. It's not fair. It's too much. 

"It's okay," Spencer says. You know it's him without looking, his voice a familiar gentleness that reaches your ears despite the roaring-quiet nothing and your sniffles. 

You turn your face away from him to hide. 

He puts his hand on your thigh amicably, his tone encouraging as he continues, "If you don't calm down you'll throw up. What can I do?" 

You suck in a shaky breath, an attempt to regulate feelings too big for one body, "Sorry, it's– I'm fine. I'll be fine," you wobble. You can't finish the second fine, a cry crushing it down. 

Another hand touches you, fingers on your wrist and weaving down. He covers the back of your hand with his palm. It's not like Spencer, but it's not like you to cry like this. 

Spencer doesn't tell you to stop crying or try to shush you. He'd told you once that he tries not to stop people when they're talking, because he knows what it feels like to be shut up. I wish people… I wish people would have more patience, I think. Sometimes I can't get things out the way others want me to, and I get that things are time sensitive, but. I don't know. If I have time to listen, I'll listen. 

Listen to you cry, listen to your staggering breaths as you catch them. Patient, Spencer pulls your hand to his lap and draws letters into your wrist. You can't make out what he's writing, but you can feel the bumps and curves of Os and Ks. Maybe he's telling you it's okay, maybe he's writing out a recipe. Whatever it is, it calms you down. 

"Do you want some water?" he asks as you still. He sounds pitying, sure, but he understands. His thumb rubs down to the middle of your hand. 

"Yeah. Please." 

He passes you a plastic bottle of water with the seal already broken. You have the wherewithal, then, to see where you are. The conference room is dark, and your teammates have given you the chance to cry alone, though they'd sent Spencer in to keep you company, it seems. You can see Morgan waiting out by the door like your bodyguard, and you're sure you can hear Hotch shouting. Or, not shouting, he doesn't yell much, but his voice is loud and terse. He cannot be argued with. 

"I'm sorry you got the short straw." 

Spencer puts an arm behind your back. "Actually, I had to fight Emily to be the one who gets to sit with you. And I can't fight, so it was more like begging." 

He rubs your back. You forget that he's a man, sometimes, but you can feel the ridges of his arm, smell the woody scent of his deodorant as it stretches around you in a half hug. His awkwardness with women doesn't extend to his friends at any rate, and he hugs you with surety. 

"You're one of my favourite people. I'm sorry you didn't know that. Holding your hand when you cry isn't a short straw," he says. 

You lean into his shoulder. He murmurs a quiet, "Come here," as you do, his jaw pressed tight to your forehead. 

"I'm so sorry," you say. To him and to someone else. 

"It's okay. It's not your fault. You can't save everyone." He sounds near choking up with his last sentence. It's a grim and undeniable truth. No matter how hard any of you try, there will be impossible cases with twisting riddles for motivation and terror that fills every corner. There will be young girls who die, because there will always be someone waiting to hurt them. 

"I tried–" You bite your cheek until it screams at you to stop. 

"I know. There was nothing else we could do." 

You turn into him completely, wrapping your arms around his waist in a vice. Spencer doesn't baulk, circling your shoulders, his breath tickling your ear where you squish your face against the collar of his sweater. The fabric bites your skin, a wicked heat returning to line your lashes. 

Your back shakes under Spencer's hand.

"I know," he repeats, rubbing your back. "It's okay, Y/N, I promise. He can't hurt anyone else, ever again." 

It doesn't make the crime any better. It won't bring back the girl you lost. And it can't erase the agony of knowing you failed her. 

Spencer starts to talk. Simple facts, explaining grief. When we cry, it releases oxytocin. You feel better afterwards because of the chemical effects. 

When you eventually do calm down, head pounding and chest aching, Spencer helps you clean the tear stains from your cheeks with a pocket pack of tissues, and you know it isn't the oxytocin that made you feel better, just a really caring man. 

"Thank you for dealing with me. I know this wasn't even the worst thing we've seen, but I–" You clear your throat, determined not to cry anymore tears until you're back home. "I couldn't stop seeing her hand. I can't remember my hand being that small anymore." 

Spencer gives you a smile. It's far from happy, a flat line with the slightest curve at the corners. "Some things are hard to forget. And we shouldn't forget them. But we have to keep going so we can balance it out. Or at least that's what I think." 

You hug him quickly. "Thanks, Spence." 

His hand twitches against the small of your back. 

[doeidawn]

doeidawn's kinkmas day two ❆ cookie decorating

KINKMAS 2024 | PREVIOUS DAY | NEXT DAY

cookie decorating quickly goes from wholesome to crude when soap gets a little too excited watching you lick up frosting. 1.9k

❆ pairing: soap x gn!reader

❆ tags: MDNI/18+; cookie decorating; established relationship; soap's a horny bastard; oral sex [m receiving]; facial

Having a boyfriend meant you could spend the holidays doing all of the cheesy, romantic couple stuff you wouldn’t get to do otherwise. Watching movies together, decorating your shared living space, surprising each other with mistletoe—the list went on. It quickly became the favorite time of year if only because the two of you got to spend it together.

Today ended up being the ‘baking cookies together’ day. It was going well; preparation went smoothly and nothing ended up burnt. Success seemed within reach, and the only thing left was decorating the cookies. You could already picture the two of you making gingerbread-shaped caricatures of each other.

…Except Johnny couldn’t decorate gingerbread to save his life.

One would think a man with enough military training to teach him a steady arm and the patience of a saint would at least do an adequate job. But his gingerbread men came out looking more like gingerbread monsters.

At least he looked cute when he concentrated. Bottom lip sucked between his teeth, brows furrowed as he bent over the counter to run the piping bag in his hands over the cookie. He had to be granted his own space with his own parchment paper to account for his ‘creative process’.

“How’s that one?” Johnny steps back from his workspace with an expectant look.

Stepping closer to his spot on the counter, you look down to see a messily decorated gingerbread cookie sat pitifully on the parchment. Crooked and covered with uneven, squiggly lines, it looks more like the handiwork of a child than a grown man.

“It’s…better. You’re getting better.” It wasn’t a lie, per se; at least he managed to get most of the frosting on the cookie this time. 

“Oh, c’mon. Not even a ‘good’?”

“Well—”

“‘Oh, it’s pure dead brilliant, love!’”

“He’s…charming. It’s charming.”

“Charming…” Johnny scoffs the word. The faux-offense on his face almost makes you feel bad for him.

You reach out to wipe a smear of icing off of the countertop. The sugary white leaves behind a small patch of stickiness. “I feel like you got more icing on the counter than the cookie.” It was quite the feat considering you put down parchment paper to avoid that very problem. 

“Aye, it’s hard to hold this thing…” As if proving his point, he tries to hold the piping bag correctly—or, at the very least, the way you showed him—only to accidentally push out a glob of icing onto his hand. It seemed the beast didn’t know his own strength.

“Be gentle with it, for starters,” you tease. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

You don't think much of it when you grab his wrist and bring your hand to his mouth. Sticking out your tongue to lick the icing off of his fingers, the sweet sugar complimented by the faint taste of his skin. You just didn’t want it to go to waste, that’s all.

Licking your lips, you give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Keep goin’. We got a few cookies left. Practice makes perfect.”

Moving back to your own workspace, you busy yourself with your own attempts to frost. It wasn’t perfect, maybe not worthy of any bakery display, but at least you were managing better than Johnny. But, you could hold the piping bag correctly, and your lines came out much smoother. At the very least, one could tell what it was you were trying to ice.

You hear a sound come from his direction, one you think might be a grumble of annoyance. When you turn to face him you’re met with his arm outstretched in your direction.

“Got more icin’ on my hand.” He states it so matter-of-factly, an expectant look in his eye that confuses you.

“Okay?” You shrug. “Sink’s right there.”

“You’re not gonna lick it off?”

Oh, the bastard. That expectant look turns mischievous and it doesn’t take much to figure out it’s because he’s got an idea in that head of his. 

You look at his hand and, sure enough, a thick smear of white icing sits on his fingertips. You arch an eyebrow when you look back up at his face. “Seriously?”

“Well, you were so nice about it before.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t fight the smile on your lips. You set your piping bag down with a sigh and waltz over to him with a look of fake annoyance that only makes him smile in return. Fingers wrap gently around his wrist, bringing his hand to your mouth. Holding his gaze, you decide to meet his audacity with your own.

Leaning in slightly, you brush your lips against his fingertips, ensuring some of the icing smears onto your skin. Then, in a movement that is all-too-lewd, you stick out your tongue to lap and lick at the sugary substance on his hand. The taste of his skin spurs you on until your lips wrap around two of his digits. Sucking them into your mouth, your cheeks hollow as he presses against your tongue.

Hearing Johnny groan is all the satisfaction you need. You smile—as much as you can with his fingers crowding your mouth—and watch him move closer. A hand rests on your waist to hold you tight while the other tests your gag reflex.

“I’d like to get somethin’ else in that pretty mouth.”

You tilt your head back, sliding your mouth off of his fingers until it makes a wet ‘pop’. “Yeah?” You coo between placing kisses on his fingertips. 

“Yeah.” He presses his body against yours, his solid frame against your softer one. “Got some icin’ of my own I think you might like.”

“Shut up,” you laugh.

“I promise I can paint your face better than a piece of gingerbread.”

“The competition isn’t very fierce.”

“Watch it.” A warning and a tease wrapped into one. His hand slides from your waist to the small of your back, pushing just enough to press your hips against his.

To no one’s surprise, he’s hard already. You can feel the bulge behind his jeans, pressing incessantly against you as he rocks his hips gently. Your hand moves down to cup him through the layers, feeling the heat and need behind his movements. A squeeze of your fingers makes him hiss and buck into your hand.

“Didn’t know makin’ gingerbread got you hot,” you tease. Your fingers trace the outline of his cock, brushing against the rough fabric. 

“Me neither,” he says with a kiss to your cheek. “But you make everythin’ hot.”

“I think you’re just a horny bastard.”

“Aye, that might be true too.”

As your hands move to tug at the button and zipper keeping him contained, he bucks into your hand as the fabric starts to loosen around his hips. No doubt it was a freeing feeling. Especially when your fingers hook into the waistband of both his jeans and his briefs to pull them away from his body.

You sink to your knees as you tug the layers down. His cock juts out, in desperate need of attention. Bobbing between his legs as it throbbed, flushed an angry red. You weren’t so cruel as to deny him what he wanted, even if his proposal was the cheesiest thing you’d ever heard. 

The shuddering moan that falls from Johnny’s lips as you lick a fat stripe up the underside of his cock makes it all worth it. He mutters something unintelligible about how good you look on your knees while one of his hands rests on the back of your head. Coming in from all angles, you lick and lap at his cock, running your tongue over every vein and ridge until he’s bucking his hips impatiently.

Wrapping a hand around the base, you finally take him into your mouth. The steady bob of your head makes him groan, his eyes rolling back as you swallow around him. Your tongue and mouth massage his cock with its wet heat and you can already tell he can’t get enough.

Your head slides down, taking him deeper until the head of his cock hits the back of your throat. Your resulting sputter has him moaning a mix between your name and praise.

“Jesus, your mouth’s so fuckin’ perfect…” He’s not forceful when he pushes his hips forward, he just watches his cock slide in and out of your mouth. His moves in time with your bobbing head, setting a rhythm that makes him weak in the knees. “Aye, that’s it, just like that…”

Your eyelashes flutter as you blink up at him. Watching his face contort into different visages of pleasure, brows furrowing and biting his lip before letting his head fall back with a groan. Your hands run over his thighs and dig into the meaty skin. Even through his jeans you can feel how tense the muscles are. 

Forcing yourself down again, you nearly take him to the root. The instinctual jerk of his hips forces the rest of his cock down your throat until you gag. He pulls back instinctively at the sound, but your mouth follows the movement to keep him fully enveloped. The respite he tries to grant you is completely ignored in favor of hearing him moan and curse with every bob of your head.

“Oh, you’re eager, eh?” The only response you can manage is an affirmative hum around him that makes him twitch in your mouth. “Fuck, do that again…”

You indulge him again, humming around his cock as you slide your mouth up and down. Another muttering of curses spills from his lip, praise slurred between his heavy breaths. You pull back enough to swallow properly and tease the head of his cock with your tongue.

“Shite…gonna make me cum wit’ that mouth…” Johnny pants as he rolls his hips against your face. “So fuckin’ good…”

Humming around his cock one final time, you slowly pull off of him. Your hand quickly replaces the strokes of your mouth by giving him sharp, fast pumps. The slide of your spit makes the movement easy, the wet, rhythmic sound hitting your ears.

“Still wanna paint my face?” Your throat feels raw as you speak, lips puffy from the exertion.

“Fuck, yeah.” He grunts the words as his hips buck into your hand. He curses before reaching down to replace your hand with his own. “C’mere…”

Watching him stroke his cock with your saliva makes your head spin. Looking up to see his heavy eyes watch you, dick throbbing in your face as he works himself, the flush on his skin that deepens as he gets closer—it’s a work of art. One you never grew tired of witnessing.

It doesn’t take long for his hand to still and his mouth to fall open in a long string of moans and curses. His hips twitch as ropes of thick cum land in hot streaks on your face, pooling on your lips and running down your cheeks. He’s panting, almost growling, as he works himself through the high. You can see his eyes move sporadically, like he’s trying to pinpoint all the spots he hit.

Licking your lips, the salty-sweet taste of his cum covers your tongue. You moan at the taste before leaning in to lap at the last few pitiful dribbles from his cock. Don’t wanna let anything go to waste, after all.

“Well?” You start, tilting your head as you look up at him. “Do I look better than your gingerbread man?”

You can tell Johnny isn't fully there yet, brain still lagging behind as he takes in the sight of you. His hand moves to your cheek, thumb smearing the cum on your cheek. A lazy smile paints itself on his lips.

“Yeah,” he finally answers, still breathless. “A lot better. Told you this was my strong suit.”

“Oh, I didn’t doubt you for a second, Johnny.”

[sehodreams]

this isn’t really an MTL but riize reaction to you tryna be the dom? or reader tryna be bratty and them just not having it the rest is up to you 😉

Hi babe, sorry for taking so much time answering this one, thank you so much for your patience 🥹😭

TW and Tags: bratty!reader, sexual content, MDNI, orgasm denial, spanking, marks, teasing, Dom!Riize (?).

Eunseok would immediately put you in your place, do you think that since he lets you do whatever you want most of the time you can treat him like that? Oh no princess, learn your limits. He loves to spoil you and treat you like the most precious little thing he has ever seen, because for him you are that, but you can't just go and talk back to him or disobey him, he doesn't like that, so he'll make it clear in case you haven't noticed, and he'll do it exactly where you're the most vulnerable at, his bed. Forget about cumming the next nights, he won't give you what you want until you're crying, begging and apologizing, he can't spoil you anymore until you understand that between the two of you, at the end, he's the one in control, and you, as his little doll, have to think twice before you make him mad.

Shotaro and Sungchan are nice, sometimes too nice, and you could've gotten the idea that they'll never get angry at you doesn't matter what you do, but if you ever lie, doesn't matter how little it is, and they discover it, you better get ready for what's about to come, because they're the nicest people you could ever know until you push their buttons, and when that unusual occasion comes, you'll get punished like you deserve. They're the kind that want to talk about it first, because you're two adults and you can use your words, but if they see you won't listen to them and realize what you did was wrong, prepare to get spanked until your eyes are tearing and you can't look at their faces of how embarrassed you feel after they finish with you, because if you don't get it with their words, they'll make sure you do it with their hands against your skin, and in Sungchan's case, he'd be extra hard with you, leaving more marks beside the palm of his hand on your ass, perhaps purple spots on your wrists and thighs from you trying to escape his grip, little reminders of your mistake to never repeat them again.

Sohee and Anton don't get easily fed up, you'd have to do something extremely unacceptable for them to think that's it, like publicly embarrassing them, saying things they didn't want others to hear, or don't treating them right in front of their friends, something so disgraceful to the two of you that they'll have to excuse themselves and leave, and then, when you were completely alone, they'll say how disappointed they are, but don't worry, they'll make you get your act together again, if you couldn't do something as simple as being a decent person in front of others, they'll have to teach you how to be one, so not only you'll get punished after each incident, pushing you down the bed and leaving the good boy act behind, no smiles or giggles and soft caressings anymore, using the strength they haven't showed you before, making you cry with each touch, in the future, before going out together, they'll always tease you, feeling your pussy with their fingers and leaving you all hot and desperate, "if you do well today, when we come back you'll get what you need".

Seunghan likes jokes, he enjoys them, but he doesn't like to be offended, he wants to laugh with you, not to be laughed at, so if you start teasing him too much, soon he'll show you your place again, with his hand around your throat and that cheeky grin in his face, when you're in his room, he'll make you the joke until you can't help but cry and apologize for acting like that, "look at you, you say my cock is so small no one else would like it? Come on, you can't even take half of it, let's see if you laugh again after I finish with you tonight"

Wonbin loves a bratty reader, he would create useless rules and would ask more things from you just to have the opportunity of punishing you more often, he's always waiting for you to act up so he can treat you like he wants, and he would do everything the other boys do as much as he can, like teasing and overstimulating you, enjoying your crying face whenever you're taking him, and he'd also laugh at you and leave little (but multiple) marks on your body, he lives for the sound of your broken voice apologizing when he's fucking you and then the embarrassed expression you have when you see the mess you've done after he finishes with you, he can't wait for your next mistake to use you and make you cockdrunk again.

[cosmic-d1ce]

Regular FML AU things

Phil just wants to go outiside

"Look, my love, I have to go-"

Phil cuts Forever off, no patience left in him. He needed to be out of here. Now. "Please! Just take me with you! I won't leave your side, we can take care of Richas together, don't you want that?" He tried. He'd been trying for days.

Forever's eyes flickered over Phil's face before he sighed heavily. "I just can't say no to you... You'll be the death of me, dearest, you really will."

He walked back to Phil, where he sat politely on the floor. He'd been so well behaved recently, Forever had no reason not to let him come with them. It had been days since he last acted out and he was surely losing it a little in this empty room.

"You cannot be causing trouble though, okay? Last time I let you out you left me this nasty scar." Forever said in a warning tone. The same tone he used to scold Richas on the rare occasion he would act out. He gestured to the still healing scar on his arm.

Phil nodded quickly, eager to comply.

Good. That was good.

Forever took a key from his pocket and took off the chains around Phil's ankles, then his wrists. His hands were still healing from the last broken bone and his leg still ached when he stood, but he wasn't about to complain. Being outside with a bad leg was better than even another single minute in that room.

As soon as he could, he took a hold of Forever's arm, both for physical support and reassurance. It had become increasingly difficult to feel safe without Forever around. It was very conflicting. Forever smiled at him, a softness to his gaze that Phil was still unused to. It felt so different than the usual harshness that came with what Forever thought was love.

"I'm so glad you're coming around, Phil, you know I hate to hurt you." Forever's smile feels out of place here. It made his words feel much less genuine.

"I'm sorry." Phil mutters without thinking.

Forever rolls his eyes lightheartedly, "It's okay! I knew it would take some work but here you are! We can go and take care of Richas together and be a family!" He pulls Phil a little closer to him somehow.

Phil nods. He lets Forever guide him out of the room. He limps as he walks alongside his partner, using Forever to keep himself upright and not on the ground.

The moment they get out of the door, Richas runs to his dad and into his arms, hopping up into a familiar and warm embrace. The boy scribbled on his sign and turned it to Phil with an excited chirp.

PAPA PHILZA!!

Phil smiles as best he can, using his hand to shield his eyes from the harsh sunlight that he had become so unfamiliar with. Suddenly, he regrets his need for the outside world. Too bright. too loud, too big. A part of him wants to run back inside and hide in his bed. He pushes it down, hiding it away in a box he hopes to never open.

Richas tugs on Forever's shirt and grabs at Phil. Forever yelps as his hair is pulled but obliges his son's wishes, passing the little boy to Phil with a soft smile. Nothing could take the love for his son away. It's sweet. It reminds Phil of Chayanne.

He struggles for only a moment to keep Richas in his arms, strength mostly gone from weeks of not enough movement and food. His arms tremble but he keeps the boy up, letting Richas sit on his hip as he grins at his dad.

Forever smiles back before coming closer to kiss the two of them on their heads. Phil tries not to think about it. He smiles at the soft show of affection but a horrible feeling curls in his gut. This feels all too domestic, too sweet, too familial. Richas is not his son. Forever is not his lover.

[nauticalparamour]

YOU'RE MINE

Theo x Hermione | M | Complete | 73k asks, etc. Harry is obsessed with watching Malfoy, but it leads Hermione to notice Malfoy's friend Theo Nott. As the months roll by, she begins to realize that something is seriously wrong with her classmate, and being Hermione, she has to get to the bottom of it.

FFN | AO3

• • •    • • •     • • •     • • •     • • •    • • •    • • •

In sleep, Nott looked uncharacteristically peaceful. She hadn't realized it, but all term, he'd been carrying so much tension in his brow, as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Now, though, he was relaxed and boyish.

He really was unfairly handsome, Hermione decided. When they were younger, he had been rather stringy and rabbity, as Harry had classified him. However, it was clear that he'd gone through some sort of swan transformation that Hermione secretly wished would happen to her. She'd been truly pretty at the Yule Ball, shocking her classmates, but she didn't have the patience to put in all that effort just to look good every morning, not when she had better things to do with her time.

Not Theo Nott, though. He apparently didn't have to put any effort in, seeing as he still looked good, despite how sick he was. With his strong jawline and straight nose, he looked masculine, a trait that was only aided by his broad shoulders. His hair, normally perfectly coiffed, was mussed by sleep, causing Hermione to smile.

She was momentarily distracted by the bottles of potions at his bedside. Her curiosity was getting the better of her, but she couldn't quite read the labels from where she was sat. Nibbling her lower lip, she gave Nott a quick glance and relaxed, seeing that he still looked deep asleep. Standing, she crept around to the other side of hospital bed.

Hermione reached out her hand to spin to potions bottles around, wanting to read the label. Just as she was about to touch it, a hand shot out and grabbed her by the wrist tightly, halting her progress.

Nearly jumping out of her skin, Hermione pressed her free hand to her chest to ease her rapidly beating heart. "Great Godric, Nott!" she said, seeing the hand attached to her sick classmate. "You scared the pants off of me."

Nott did not seem amused by her turn of phrase, practically glaring at her. "Well, perhaps you shouldn't have been skulking around, sticking your nose where it doesn't belong," he snarled at her. His hand tightened around her small wrist, not letting it go. "I don't appreciate having my privacy invaded like this, Granger."

Hermione stared down at his long fingers wrapped around her, feeling the strength he possessed. He is holding back, she realized with shock. "I'm sorry, Nott. I didn't mean to pry," she apologized, but realizing how lame it sounded. "I just was...curious. I was worried about you."

He recoiled, hearing her words. "Don't pretend like you are worried about me," he said with a frown. "You will never be able to lie as well as a Slytherin." Reluctantly, he released her wrist.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth, trying to decide what to do. Finally, she moved back around the bed, feeling Nott's eyes follow her the whole way. Taking a deep breath, she sat back down in the chair, pressing her hands to her knees. She wasn't entirely sure how to proceed. The whole time she had been planning on getting her notes to Nott, she hadn't thought about what she'd actually say to him.

"What are you doing here, Granger?" Nott demanded, sitting up in the bed, pulling the blankets up with him. Hermione was temporarily struck by the intimacy of the situation and felt a bit shameful for the way that she'd barged in on him. He looked up and down the hospital ward, seeing none of the other beds occupied. "Neither of your little sidekicks are hurt, so why did you come?"

Hermione blushed bright red, scolding herself for being so foolish for coming to visit him before thinking over the consequences. What if one of his Slytherin friends had come by to speak with him? It had been reckless and stupid, but she couldn't just run away now. "I...you missed class," she started, playing with a bit of fuzz on her jumper.

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Tsugaru Making You Feel Accepted

Tsugaru Shinuchi X Kitsune FemReader

Rating: None

Warnings: Reader is self-conscious, mentions of death

Word Count: 663

Requested by @kawaistrawberry21

(A/N:) Thank you for your patience as I have been working on this! I hope you enjoy the fruits of your request as I enjoyed writing it! I love writing for Tsugaru as there's not much when it comes to him and it's a shame! I hope this is everything you wanted and more! Thank you for your request as I like to write things that my readers want to see! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

The day was beautiful in the meadow you and Tsugaru found yourselves in. You hadn't seen him in so long and you wanted to enjoy every moment when he was around. His head was nestled in your lap as the sunshine played across his features. A gentle breeze tussling his hair, tickling his nose. He grunted itching at the tip of his nose when you began to thread your fingers through his dark locks. He moaned as you itched his scalp and lulling him back into peaceful slumber. While he was known as the Oni Killer he had never mistreated you for a moment. As a Kitsune and one of the last of your kind, you had taken to hiding your features from everyone.

You remember the moment vividly as Tsugaru had came across you in a weakened state when you first met. Your ears and tails on show for everyone to see. Normally monsters such as yourself were either hunted down or used to make money in a side show. You trembled to know that you were facing the man who was notorious for destroying beings like you. But instead of a killing blow he had offered you a hand. He had hid you, long enough for you to regain your strength to glamour yourself.

Your relationship had begun there and you had no regrets on finding such a man as Tsugaru. He gripped your wrist, pulling you from your thoughts as a butterfly flitted by.

"You're thinking about something again, instead of paying attention to me," Tsugaru pouted.

"Can a girl daydream about other things than the man she loves," you retorted kissing his forehead.

"Not when he's around," he winked. "He might get jealous."

"Like anyone besides you would want a Kitsune."

Tsugaru knew well how much it bothered you being different. He knew you feared humans and what they would do to you if they found out you were Kitsune. While he hunted creatures of your kind, it grew old and being part Oni made him realize that everything was more complicated than the populace lead on. Your sadness bothered him and he didn't want you to feel this way. Especially when he was around, though he understood that you needed comfort from him. He set up from your lap, turning around so he could face you. The grass swaying around you both, he plucked a flower and placed it in your hair.

"You don't have to glamour yourself when I'm around," he cooed.

You looked down releasing the spell, your fox ears and tails coming back into existence. One tail twitched in nervousness while your eyes darted around for anyone close by. Tsugaru cupped your chin, making you look at him. He stroked at your soft ear admiring the colors.

"You never have to glamour yourself when I'm around."

"I know," you mumbled. "I'm just used to it."

"I know," he nodded. "I hope one day it'll be where you don't have to worry about others seeing you. But until then you're always safe with me. You are perfect the way you are and don't believe any less."

You nodded, tears pricking your eyes. Tsugaru leaned in kissing you gently causing your breath to hitch. He pulled away, licking his lips before plopping his head back down in your lap. He closed his eyes grinning widely before placing your hand back on top of his head.

"You can pet me some more now," he purred.

"I'm beginning to wonder which of us is the true Kitsune," you snorted but went back to petting his head. This time you sat there in your true form letting the sunshine warm you. You would have no fear when Tsugaru was here accepting you. It made you feel safe and seen. He was everything you could ever dream and more as he made you feel like no other man could. As long as you had him, you felt like you had everything.

[justpoliteconversations]

Olive Tree Sonnet [Raffle Winner]

This was supposed to be a little drabble for four-eyed-nerd, who was chosen randomly during the Follower Raffle. But I'm a liar. So it's a whole damned oneshot instead. So much for promises.

Masterlist

Characters: Juniper (OC created by four-eyed-nerd, Warriors, Wild

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise. Linked Universe is the fan creation of jojo56830.

---

Things have been strange with Wars lately.  Ever since they'd found out about Juniper's ancestry (and his unusually prevalent place within it), he'd been the most infuriating toss up of awkward avoidance and brooding cucco and Juniper was just about done with it. She respected him, truly she did, but for being so intelligent he sure had a way of putting his foot in his mouth.

Just because he was her grandfather (and wasn't that something) doesn't mean she wants to be his apprentice or some nonsense. He had his strengths and she had hers, and no amount of nitpicking or corrections was going to change that. She wasn't him.

At the time though, she hadn't known how to brooch the topic. Usually so willing to voice her grievances and set boundaries (her gerudo blood, perhaps? her hero's spirit?), it had caught herself off guard just how much his opinion mattered to her. Partially because of their revelation, yes, but also because of just how much she admired him.

He was just-

He was just so confident. Self-assured in a way she struggled to be, elegant and cultured too. Intelligent and frighteningly strong, well spoken and educated. Handsome and connected. Respected by the group (though he often bickered with Legend and Twilight). He even had Time's ear.

There was just so much to admire. So much to live up to, and she just-

She couldn't be him, no matter what he expected of her. The shoe didn't fit and she doubted it ever would. He might have been her grandfather, but they were not woven from the same cloth.

So here she was (fresh out of a tense argument with that very man) hiding behind some outcropping of boulders with Wild (like some sulking teenager) while Time talked Wars down. Scratching pictures and anxiety fueled nonsense into the aged stone only did so much though, so she began picking at her split ends with dust covered fingers instead.

A hand grabbed at her wrist, pulling it away from her now tangled, dirty hair. She yanked her wrist out of their grasp without thought.

"For fuck's sake! It's just damn hair!" Juniper snapped in frustration, turning to the interloper with a tense frown.

Wild just leveled her with an unimpressed stare as he pulled his hand away from where it'd been hoovering, but the downward angle of his ears gave away his hurt. As did the slight tensing of his shoulders.

She immediately felt regret for her loss of patience. All the progress they've made, and this is what starts the backwards slide.

Hell no.

"Look, Wild. I'm sorry. I'm just really fucking tense. I didn't mean to snap at you like that." Juniper apologized, struggling to keep eye contact while he looked so- betrayed.

At her words though he softened, nodding in acceptance before pointing at her doodles. The curious upward flick of his ears was like a balm on her heart.

"It's Wars...slipping on a banana." Wild snorted, eyes alight with mischief (and promise). "Hey! I was mad, okay? It's not like I actually want him to fall on his ass."

"Not even a little, huh?" A familiar voice spoke from behind them, startling the pair. Wild had nearly reached for a weapon, but thankfully caught himself.

Juniper looked up at Wars, wanting to fade away into the rocks behind her but also too upset still to think of backing down. Though she also wanted things to be okay between them, and less awkward. Honestly, she was just a mess right now.

War's eyes flickered to Wild's for a moment, assessing. Surprisingly, he seemed to find what he needed in the way Wild frowned, dug his boots into the grass below and crossed his arms impatiently. Protective as always.

"No need to get testy, Wild. I'm not going to ask you to leave." Wild snorted, as though amused Wars thought he'd have abided by the order even if it had been given.

"Wild." Juniper said, grateful for her friend's unflinching support, but also not wanting to be the cause of bad blood between the men. Wild was just too damned loyal sometimes.

Wild side-eyed his red haired friend unhappily, but backed down, leaning against the boulders behind them. Still watching like a silent predator, but willing to take the support role for this one.

An awkward moment of silence.

"I wanted-"

"What do you-"

Silence again. Warriors cleared his throat, readjusting his scarf in a practiced motion, body language far too relaxed for the way his eyes wavered with uncertainty.

Even his fidgiting was smooth and elegant. It was so unfair.

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior recently." He began, face very carefully passive. "I have been- unfairly strict with you, Juniper."

Juniper felt almost- shocked maybe? Validated? She wasn't sure, but her heart ached as Wars continued.

"I- I know I wasn't there in your life. You have no reason to listen to me, and I know I've overstepped my place as your comman- comrade multiple times now. I know that, and I'll make no excuses for myself. It was my own selfishness that led to where we are now." He paused, pointedly not looking at Wild who was watching him like a coiled snake.

"I'm sorry, Juniper. You're your own person and I have no right to criticize you for who you've become." Juniper felt her heart flutter, relieved and touched and suddenly, unexpectantly, sad. "I'll do my utmost to remember that."

Silence once more. Awkward as it's ever been between the both of them. Wild's eyes flicked between the two, just as awkward in this stilted atmosphere.

Wars nodded his head, suddenly looking unsure now but trying to hide it with pleasantries. "That's all I wanted to say. Thank you for your time." Then he turned to leave, ears red and lower face tucked into his scarf.

"Wars. Wait." The red haired woman said, voice fighting passed the swell of her throat.

The man paused midstep, turning back to her. He was composed now, quick on the recovery as ever.

Wild looked to her too, curious and confused.

"I'm sorry too." The unreadable passivity of War's face was unnerving (it always had been), but Juniper pushed through. "Not everything you've tried to teach me has been unreasonable. Actually, most of it has been damned helpful." Juniper went for her hair again, but remembered how Wild disliked when she damaged it.

The woman took a moment to gather herself, and Warriors was kind enough to let her. Even if now he still looked a little lost. Maybe a little hopeful too. "I don't want you to stop teaching me things." That was the last thing Juniper wanted. "I just- don't want to constantly feel like I've failed you." She looked down, unsure of how to continue.

Arms were around her then, warm and strong but also so incredibly tender. It was almost enough to pull a sob from her.

"You've never failed me, Juniper." Wars said, with such strong conviction in his voice it made the woman's eyes sting. "I'm sorry I made you feel that way." She lost the fight to maintain her composure, hiding her face in his scarf.

"I'm proud of who you've become." She sobbed harder and he held her tighter, speaking into her hair. "I'm glad you were born. I'm so blessed to have met you."

Wild quietly slipped away then, certain now that things would be alright between them. Eventually.

They just needed time.

---

I must now return to the shadows to rest again.

[lithopus]

Two excerpts from new WIPS

While editing Chapter 5 of testing, testing, I've also been working on two other fics that don't require as much brainpower, lol. I posted these excerpts on Bluesky, but I'm also posting them over here for anyone who doesn't use that platform!

There's nothing sexually explicit in these excerpts themselves, but they both involve sexual themes and are depicting dom/sub scenes, so 🔞

(The first excerpt is from a one-shot that's inspired by a few lines in Chapter 5, and involves a rather silly roleplay. The second excerpt is from a three-part fic centered around punishment/humiliation, and is the third installment in my "patience, please" series.)

◈ WIP 1 ◈

“There,” Kaveh says, patting Alhaitham’s shoulder. “That should keep you from running off.”

Alhaitham sighs and flexes his bound wrists, confirming that they don’t hurt from the rope tethering them to the back of his chair. Kaveh sounds all too pleased with the predicament he’s devised—which is, based on past experience, a strong indicator that Alhaitham has no chance in hell of guessing what his plans are.

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” Kaveh checks. Alhaitham shakes his head. “Good. I’m not trying to hurt you, after all. It’s just, you were wriggling around so much that I wouldn’t have been able to collect the samples properly, and it was already hard enough to catch you the first time. I can’t risk letting you get away.”

Alhaitham rolls his eyes. Kaveh didn’t catch him, nor did he struggle at all while Kaveh was tying him up; this is just Kaveh flexing his acting muscles, now that they’re ready to begin.

And normally Alhaitham would snark about how Kaveh must be slacking on his strength training, if he thinks that tying up such a compliant subject is a challenge—but currently Alhaitham can’t say much of anything, because Kaveh has very thoughtfully strapped a ring gag onto his mouth. He settles for grunting in annoyance and fixing Kaveh with an unimpressed look instead.

◈◈ WIP 2 ◈◈

“Work was fine,” Alhaitham says. He crosses his legs, resting one ankle on his knee, and lowers his book slightly. “I stopped by Lambad’s Tavern earlier.”

There it is.

“Oh? That’s nice,” Kaveh says. He casually removes his cape and tosses it onto the bench by the front door. “How’s Lambad doing? Was the meal to your satisfaction?”

Alhaitham snaps his book shut, and the sound cracks against Kaveh’s ears, sending another shiver through him. “He asked me if I wanted to pay my tab.”

“Well, I don’t see anything wrong with that,” Kaveh says breezily. “He runs a business, after all. It’s important for his customers to pay him.”

“I agree,” Alhaitham says, setting his book on the coffee table. As he does, Kaveh realizes that the are four small piles of coins neatly lined up next to it. “Except I haven’t been his customer since last week.”

“Since last week?” Kaveh echoes. “My, Alhaitham. You really kept him waiting that long for—”

“Kaveh.”

Kaveh shuts his mouth, lips pressed tightly together.

“I paid last week’s tab already,” Alhaitham says, “and gave you clear instructions not to run up a new tab this week. Do you recall that conversation?” Kaveh nods. “Then describe for me the terms of that agreement, Kaveh.”

[therantsofawriterrr]

91221

Chapter Four: I'll Keep You Safe, Jagiya

Summary: Kang Hyunyul has had a good life since he left the Jindo gang. But when he finds out that Do Jin is going to be temporarily released, he's stressed and the return of an old flame triggers familiar feelings and with them, the old memories of the only real thing of his complicated past. All while she was saving his life, literally putting her life on the line. Chapter Summary: Sujin confronts Dojin about their deal and Hyunyul makes a final decision. Warning: Violence, implied domestic violence, possessive!Hyunyul, protective!Hyunyul, lemme know if I missed anything. A/N: I'm phenomenally late aren't I? I'm so sorry. If you hung around waiting, thank you. Y'all are real ones.

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three

Sujin's mind was a mess. She knew that Dojin wouldn't listen to her. So she'd impulsively sneaked into the school.

She was standing just outside the auditorium when she heard Hyunyul and his friends bickering to just wait for some time.

All of a sudden, there was a big bang, one that made her jump. There was complete and utter silence, her heart beating faster in terror, which then turned into anger.

She stomped out of the school, anger running like lava in her veins. She would've enjoyed the nice sunny weather if she didn't know that her "boyfriend" was just around the corner.

When she turned, there he was, leaning his back against the wall. Her fist automatically swung towards his face, but Dojin caught it and locked it behind her back, pulling her closer.

"To what do I owe the welcome?" He whispered, the almost evil undercurrent audible. Sujin tried to wrench her arm from his grasp, but was only successful in stumbling a few steps back, pulling him with her.

He grinned and let go of her arm, fingers going into her hair instead and pulling her into a kiss. She froze for a few second, but recovered fast and kissed him back in what she hoped seemed like passion.

She still remembered the times he used to do that back when she didn't know the consequences of not accepting Yojun's deal.

Back when she'd been naive enough to think that he actually cared.

Disgust rose in her when she pushed him back gently. She resisted the urge to wipe her lips with the back of her hand as he just stared at her with a smug smile.

"You broke your goddamn promise," she said. He only batted a hand at her and started walking away when she grabbed his shoulder. "We had a deal."

He sighed and looked at her with a deadpan expression. "He ratted me out. What else do you think I should do?"

Sujin growled. "Well, fine then. We're done."

She turned, knowing that he would grab her wrist. "What's that supposed to mean?" He asked.

She shrugged and glanced at him. "You broke our deal. What else do you think I should do?"

She thought he'd just scoff at her mocking voice, but instead he twisted her arm behind her and brought her close, holding her hair in a painful grip. Her heart started beating faster, her vision turning blurry slowly, only focusing on the guy in front of her.

Memories flashed in her mind. The man in them had a different face, but it was enough for the adrenaline to flow in her veins.

"Don't mock me, you hear?" Do Jin said menacingly.

"Let me go," she said, trying to sound as calm as she could. He only tightened his grip on her hair and she could feel the fear starting to spread, her blood turning cold.

"Dojin," an icy voice said behind her. "You should do as she says."

He scoffed, letting her go. "You have the nerve to show up here, you rat bastard?"

"You know, I really didn't want to fight you, Do Jin," he said, smirking. "But, you test my patience."

He pushed Sujin to the side and she fell, her feet not holding enough strength to hold her up at the moment. She looked only at the ground, too panicked to process the events unfolding. Her head was bent down, her hair falling at one side of her face.

The only thing she could hear and feel was her heart beating on a speed that probably wasn't normal.

Hyunyul's hands were balled into fists, knuckles itching to dig into his jaw. But, he was still trying not to get into a fight.

He mostly just wanted to break his teeth for kissing Sujin. He'd gotten out of the school, horrified, knowing that Dojin had a hand in orchestrating it.

He was also angry that he'd do something that could have hurt his friends badly too. Yichan was nowhere to be seen, and they'd just jumped down from the stage to argue with the stage manager when the stage lights above had fallen.

They'd all exited the hall after cleaning up, everyone just thankful no one was hurt. But Hyunyul walked down the nearest pathway, knowing his old friend turned new enemy would be there.

What he hadn't been expecting to see though, was him and Sujin kissing. The visual made him pause, needing to blink once before confirming that he had been seeing what he thought he had been seeing.

He had been seconds away from wrenching her away from him and just beating him to hell and back.

But, he'd stayed back, looking at them talk for a bit. They'd seemed to be fighting, which had given him a feeling of wicked pleasure, already knowing it wasn't going to end well.

But then, he'd pulled her back and his expression turned dark. He'd seen the change it had caused in her. She went from the brave, reckless girl he knew to a scared one. Hyunyul saw her muscles tense up rather than getting even more relaxed like she usually would, and the way she had been trying to get her arm out of his grip, he knew she was absolutely frightened.

It was what had made him walk forward and demand her release.

No one treats my girl like that.

Watching her fall on the ground only raised his anger and he finally reacted, swinging his fist to hit the side of his face. Dojin tried to hit back, but the anger and adrenaline running in his veins, made him flawlessly dodge and hit him in the ways that he knew. He still got hit a few times, but nothing too serious.

It finally got to the point where Dojin seemingly knew that he wouldn't win, so he just started walking away with a glare.

"You'll regret this, Kang Hyunyul," he said, the anger at being humiliated radiating off of him.

When he was finally out of sight, Hyunyul kneeled in front of Sujin, who was still trembling, her breaths shaky and eyes wide. He didn't know what to do, as he'd never seen her like that. She was never the kind to panic or flounder in a situation. She always kept calm and formulated a plan.

He frowned, placing a hand on her shoulder gently. He felt her tense up immediately, which only made his concern and curiosity rise.

"Sujin," he said softly, hoping his gentle voice would bring her back. "Hey, he's gone."

She seemed to snap out of her trance at that as she looked at him, pure fear written all over her face. Then her eyes somehow got even bigger as she touched his torn lip with a thumb, her hand cupping his cheek.

"You're hurt," she said, her voice unusually low. "Why are you hurt?"

"It's nothing, I'm fine," he said. "Are you okay?"

She shrugged a shoulder, looking away from him, blinking rapidly. His hand went from her shoulder to brushing her hair back from her face, the urge to hug her taking over.

"I expected that kinda thing from him, so I'm not surprised," she said casually, causing him to remember that she had rejoined the gang. He retracted his hand fast like he'd been burned.

"So you're both together now," he said, knowing what the answer would be before she nodded. He gave a single nod before he stood up, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

The pain that he was feeling was pretty much muted. He didn't want her to see the tears in his eyes, so he showed his back to her.

"Tell him to stay away from me and my friends," he said in a monotone voice. He could feel her gaze burning into his back, but couldn't get himself to look at her.

"Yeah. I'll make sure he doesn't," she said in a soft voice. He nodded and walked away, not daring to look back.

He would never look back.

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!! Thanks for reading 💙💙💙

[giogama08]

Barou Shouei, Blue Lock

I don't even know how I ended up here. How To Be A Heartbreaker - MARINA Word count: +3500

MINORS DNI CW: ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGE UP, in this scenario everyone is 20+, canon divergent, explicit smut, escort! reader, bondage (handcuffs), swearing, blowjob, protected and unprotected sex, cowgirl, doggy, reader and Barou do it four times, dom! reader, fem! reader,

This wasn't part of your contract but you didn't complain. After all, Ego was known for being unorthodox, so it wasn't a surprise when you got a notification from the main computer that you were switching rooms.

Originally, you were supposed to be first prize for the entire Blue Lock project. This means that whoever ends No. 1 at the end of the week gets to spend time with you. Thanks to all the adrenaline, excessive workouts, and constant challenges, your job is to help the best competitor release the stress accumulated through the week. But just like any other privilege in Blue Lock, who of the guys you end up paired with depends on their ranking. So, you have only been with Itoshi Rin since the beginning, since he has always come 1st.

It has been fun since you'd never met someone so stubborn and self-centered. It took you a bit of time and a lot of effort to crack him to the point where he can enjoy having sex, and not only smash his dick into you brainless. You can even dare to say that he develops a liking for you since you're the only one he can't control. You know how eager he gets before finally arriving at your room, so a part of you is quite worried about how he may react when he finds out Ego has been moved you to another room. But that isn't your problem.

Right now, you're curious about who are you going to be with. The picture and some personal info appeared on your phone when you were notified of the change but nothing else. No likes, dislikes, kinks, or anything useful. Basically, you have to discover everything from scratch again. 'Quite troublesome' you thought but don't really upset the change. You were paired with Barou Shouei, and by his look only you could tell he was even more egocentric than Rin, if possible. So, you prepared the room, just in case.

As soon as you see the doorknob turning you know he is going to be a challenge. After all, people usually knock when entering a room with a stranger in it, but he opened the door as if the room were his. He is tall and well-built, and his face tells you he isn't here to chat. His eyes are filled with rage and lust, looking directly at you, like a lion hunting in the Savana.

"Welcome!" you say with your warmest smile, approaching him to shake hands "My name is..."

"Bed. Now," he cuts you, dragging you by your wrist to the bed. "Take off your clothes,"

He sits in the bed, waiting for you to start undressing. It took everything on you not to slap him for his rudeness, but you know better. You unzip your dress slowly and slide one strap through your shoulder before he loses all patience (if he has any at all). But he considered you were moving too slowly so he took your dress and ripped it apart as well as your underwear, leaving you completely exposed to him. He then grabbed your wrist again and threw you to the bed. Not losing any time, he lowers his pants just enough to free his already hard dick and position himself on top of you.

He is so self-absorbed and focused on achieving his own gratification that he completely missed how your hands grabbed something hidden under a pillow. Taking advantage of how distracted he is, you grab his hand and pull it with all your strength. Under normal circumstances, there's no way you could win a fight against Barou, but you did take him off guard. With some quick moves, you accomplish the unbelievable feat of immobilizing Barou by tying him to the headboard with a pair of handcuffs.

You slide from beneath him while he was shouting curses and struggling to open the handcuffs.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, bitch?! Release me in this instance!" He sounds genuinely confused and you can help thinking he looks cute when he's angry.

"As I was saying," You calmly say as you walk to the nightstand to get some scissors. You then approach him menacing and press the cold silver blade against his dick. Fear and bewilderment fill his eyes as he admires your naked figure. "My name is Y/n. I don't care who you think you are but if you don't behave, I will hurt you"

He swallows hard, feeling a tremble through his spine as he watches how you use the scissors to cut his training suit. "Don't worry. I'm sure Ego will provide another one," you assure him. Like he even cares about that stupid suit. All his pride and power reside in being in control all the time. He is a king, and yet, here you are. Talking all condescending and threatening, treating him like he's some pet that should be reeducated. The worst part is, that his dick has not stopped hardening since you start talking. You finish removing all his clothes and toss them aside.

"Now that we are even," You say, leaving the scissors back on the nightstand. Your voice sounds hypnotic and seductive, convincing Barou that even without a weapon it is best not to mess with you. It doesn't escape you that he isn't relaxed at all. His muscles are tense, his breath controlled, and his sharp eyes are focused only on you. It reminds you of a trapped animal, ready to attack whoever gets close enough. But you are not scared. After all, what is a king to a goddess? "Shall we begin?"

You brought your lips close to his dick and kiss him gently. You don't know exactly why, but you were kinda expecting that he snarl or something. Instead, he remain silent but his dick twitched in approval of your touch. At least he isn't putting up a fight anymore, so you decide to continue. You lick the tip, and pre cum appears immediately.

"Take these handcuffs off. Now," he demands but his voice doesn't sound authoritarian. Even Barou was surprised at how poor the impact of his words had. You chuckle and take his whole length into your mouth. A guttural groan escapes from Barou's chest as he hits the back of your throat. It was big for sure, but nothing that you can't handle. You sucked and bobbed your head at a steady rhythm. In no time, Barou was panting and groaning. When he tried to buckle in your mouth, you used your hand to anchor him to the bed.

"You, whore..." he curses but his words fell apart when you suck especially hard. "Fuck. Move faster," he tried to buckle again with no vail. But you comply and speed up your movement. Tears start accumulating in your eyes as his dick keeps hitting the back of your throat, but it doesn't bother you. After all, You're fascinated by how sensible Barou is. Every move you do produces a reaction: groaning, swearing, panting, even moaning. Your pussy was dripping already in anticipation thanks to all the pretty noises he's been producing.

But you haven't finished. You can feel how he is almost done, so just before he can cum in your mouth, you let it go and it spills his seed all over his stomach.

"YOU FUCKING BITCH," he's definitely out of breath, so you admire how he still can complain. "You're supposed to take it in"

"Says who?" you smirk and grab a towel to clean him. You can feel how hard are his abs, and lick your lips imagining letting him go rampaging now. 'Not yet' you remind yourself.

As you expected, his dick is still hard even after cumming. You supposed all the guys in the project have higher stamina than normal. That actually makes your job easier. After all, there is no fun in teasing a beast if they don't put on a good fight. You approach the nightstand again and chuckle when he jolts.

"It's ok, honey," you tease and grab a box of condoms from the drawer. Barou looks uncertain about why you are putting a condom on him. As long as he is concerned, they are allowed to do whatever they want with their companions, even cumming inside. Whatever helps them relax and release stress. A part of him wants to complain again, but he is curious. Genuine curiosity to know what you are going to do to him.

Once the condom is on, you position yourself on top of him and aligned his dick with your entrance. Contrary to how you feel, already dripping and aroused, you enter gently. His dick enters slowly, stretching your wall deliciously, giving you more pleasure than you could imagine. You have to use all your willpower not to moan out loud. Enjoying every inch with a tortuous pace for both of you, until he bottoms out. He expected you to start moving immediately, and a part of you want to, but instead, you stay for a few moments, savoring his silence huff.

"Now what?! Start moving!" he shouts. You are impossible to read and Barou is starting to understand that he is in no position to oppose your will, but he was feeling desperate. If only he could slam his hips into you. Fucking you like he wants. Making you scream and pay for all the disrespect you had caused him till now. The mere idea makes his dick throb inside you.

"Relax, sweety. You're going to like what's coming," You lift your hips slowly and sink in again at an insanely slow pace. He is thick and has no problem stretching you full, simultaneously hitting all your sensitive spots. It is a real challenge not to let yourself go crazy on him. And his enraged gaze looking directly at you didn't help either.

"Aren't you enjoying this, sweetheart?" you scoff, hiding a clear moan about to escape your lips. He growls at you, tensing every muscle once again trying to break free from the handcuffs.

"I can't cum like this. Move faster," his hips thrust instinctively, but you have him anchored beneath you.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't even notice you were already in," your sarcasm couldn't fool anyone, but Barou was already so frustrated and irritated that he failed to see through your hoax. "I shall do as you say then..."

"You're gonna regret this," his threat is serious but you're not worried, after all, that's exactly the reaction you want. You speed up your pace a bit, sliding his cock in and out of you. While you are being careful not to let him know how much you're enjoying his dick, he has no problem expressing it. Soft groans leave his lips now and then.

Hearing him stimulated your twisted mind even more. You really want to break him. You want to hear him moaning more, crying, and even begging for you. Your pussy clenches around him and almost makes you slam your hips when he let out a pornographic moan.

"Well, that was really hot..." you tease, hoping to hear it again. Barou's ears turn bright red, giving away that he wasn't expecting such a lewd noise coming from him. "would you give me another?" your voice is soft now, seducing him to lower his defense and just yield to your wishes. But he hasn't given up yet. After all, he's a prideful man, and what use does his pride have if he succumbs that easily to a nice pussy?

"Why don't you take these things off me and I show you how it's supposed to be done?" your cocky smile almost makes him cum. 'God, she's so hot' he thought, not paying attention to how much his dick is throbbing inside you. Every time you stopped moving, his hips instinctively moved, trying to increase the friction.

You went like this for an hour, trying so hard not to cum or let him either. Just driving you both to the edge and back, building up his desperation for release. Finally, you feel he is already at his limit, ready to burst any second, you get off him and go to the nightstand again.

"What are you doing?!" you are pleased that his voice is not demanding anymore. He sounds desperate and frustrated. "Get back here! I was so close...!"

"I know," you cut him. You take out a magic wand from the drawer and sit next to him on the bed. "But it's not funny if we end things so fast"

'FAST?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN FAST?' he thought 'WE BEEN LIKE THIS FOR AGES' but he didn't complain out loud because his mind got distracted by how you start circling your clit with the wand and moaning out loud. It is a lewd sound. So beautiful that he almost forgets that you are not on top of him anymore. You make him see how your pussy drips out as you are easily reaching your climax. His eyes fixed on your cunt tightens around nothing.

Once you get down from your high, you return the magic wand to the nightstand.

"Now... Can you behave and do as I tell or should I come again alone?" He doesn't completely understand what it is. Your harsh tone and imposing order, or your naked body, sweaty for being more than an hour riding him, or your itching dick begging for some attention, or your beautiful eyes looking sharp and condescending at him. He really doesn't know why but you make him feel so weak and vulnerable. He feels so insignificant next to you, that he can't help to admire your silhouette as if it was the first time he sees a woman, and discovers they're terrifying.

"Yes ma'am," he replies, without a single trace of the jerk that he was at the beginning.

"Good boy," you say, situating yourself again on top of him. You turn your back this time, giving him an eyeful of your ass as you position his dick at your entrance. Without any warning, you slam your hips down, bottoming in one swift move. He let a loud moan out and threw his head back. You let out a soft chuckle.

"You poor thing. Did you just cum from entering?" Barou doesn't respond. His breathing was shaky and the red ears had come back. You replaced the condom while he was calming down. "You want me to continue? Or was it enough?"

"Please," was a strange word for Barou, but he didn't hesitate to use it "Please, just keep going" You smiled and continued riding him as he begged.

Now at a nice pace, your hips slam against his creating a filthy echo through the room. His eyes fix on your ass, as it moves up and down his length. Your skin feels softer, if possible, than before and Barou is definitely going insane of being unable to touch. He moves against the shackles, hoping to slide his hands to no bail.

"Oh, I completely forgot about them. Sorry," You made a weird movement without leaving your spot to uncuff him out of the shackles. "There..." As soon as he feels free, he grabs you and slams your body against the mattress. You don't try to resist, he is so much stronger than you after all, but it doesn't mean you have lost control over him. If anything, this was just the next step. You can feel every inch of Barou's inside of you, so desperate trying to reach deeper with every thrust. Thankfully, his hand presses your head against the mattress so your pitiful moans are muffled. He drills his dick desperately into you and you can hear groaning and moaning coming from him. At this state, Barou was definitely drunk pussy.

"You like my pussy that much?" you mock as if he isn't already having a hard time not cumming with every thrust. Your tightness is driving him crazy and every thrust is given with so much force that the headboard is hitting hard against the wall. You're sure you're going to hear complaints from Ego about damage to the facilities. But you couldn't care less, since you are also fighting the knot on your stomach not to burst. It requires talent not to let yourself go and reach your orgasm, but you haven't finished your job yet. Synchronizing with his movements and squeezing tight, you feel how his dick grows little by little until he bursts into the condom.

Barou isn't thinking straight anymore. His dick is sobbing already from the overstimulation, his muscles are exhausted from tensing for so long, and yet he hasn't had enough. He took his dick out to remove the condom and turn you over. Your body feels sore and tired but by the look of lust and hunger in Barou's eyes, you know he still wants to keep going.

"Can we go another round?" it was so out of character how sweet and attentive he sounded. His body is definitely ready to pound senseless into you but the way he is controlling himself reminds you of a dog waiting for his owner to reward it.

"Sure, we can," you agreed, and he didn't say anything else. He slides his dick on your pussy again and begins thrusting at an alarming peace. It is restless and messy. Your whole body is no more than a ragdoll at the force he is using. This time you don't try to hide your voice. Moaning out loud with each thrust, fuelling his frenzy.

It was too much for sure. He had no respect for your self being and you love it. It wasn't disrespectful like before, but more like he was not holding anything. He is showing a side of him that no one else has seen before. He isn't trying to control anything, not fighting against anyone, not proving himself to anyone. He is just focused on you and nothing else. He feels so free and powerful like never before, nothing can really compare to this sensation. Moaning your name over and over, he grabs your waist with enough force to leave marks on your skin.

Right now, you're clinging to the sheet for dear life, trying to tame a wild animal who has just reached ecstasy. Barou is high on you. All his senses dull by you. Your smell, your voice, your soft skin, everything is so incredibly overwhelming he can't take it, and yet he still needs more. He wants to go deeper, faster, longer... He wants to stay like this forever, connected to you. But he couldn't hold much longer and burst his load on you, not slowing down his pace but using less force to try to keep as much of his seed inside of you.

He collapses on top of you, hiding his face in your chest. You both have trouble recovering your breaths as you're still riding your highs back down. You use your hand to pet his head with long strokes on his hair.

"Good boy," you say smiling. He growls in response but his muscles relax at your touch, completely melting for you.

✧゜ﾟ°º｡✧｡º°ﾟ゜✧゜ﾟ°º｡✧｡º°ﾟ゜✧゜ﾟ°º｡✧

"Itoshi-kun, you have to calm down" Ego looks unbothered through the screen, but he is irritated at his own mistake. He noticed that the computer code changed during the software upgrade that morning but he didn't expect it to be a big deal. He thought it could only cause a typo or a missing number in today's schedule. If he had known it was going to release a demon, he would have fixed it at that moment. "As I already told you, it was just a computer mistake"

Surrounded by a wrecked room and a murderous aura, Itoshi Rin stared directly at the screen. If he wasn't on the other side of the TV., Ego knew his life would be in real danger.

"Where is she?" Rin's words are filled with a terrifying threat. He doesn't want any absurd excuse. He doesn't want an apology, compensation, or clarification. He wants you, and that's all. The mere fact that you weren't waiting for him, makes his blood boil in rage. And to think that you might be with someone else. He doesn't want to think about what he could do if he finds out who you are with right now.

"She must be just two floors below. I'm already sending her a message to come here," Rin cursed his training routine for the first time because if he hadn't taken so long to arrive at your room, he would have noticed your absence sooner and no one would have had the time to be with you. But that only makes him angrier to Ego.

"Bring her right now" He enunciates every word slowly and menacingly "if you value your life".

[dantefreakdaaaa]

Can you make a nsfw stars Wesker x reader story, where he does Y/n in the laboratory in the mansion after she finds out that he’s a traitor?? This is my first time requesting, sorry if it’s bad.

I low-key love this request but also don't because me no good at make plot

little bit darker than most of my stuff, includes coerced sex (I think this is considered dub con) not sane, safe, and barely consensual

Rough and angrier wesker then I normally write

If any of this makes you uncomfortable please do not read (I could barely write this myself lol)

NSFW, afab reader, no pronouns

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"Stay here, wait for my return. I should be back quickly." We're the last words you heard your captain speak to you, after that he left you in one of the mansions bedrooms before jogging out into the main room of the house. It was boring to sit there and you had assumed you fell asleep, due to waking up what felt like hours later. By time you had awoke you had grown tired of waiting and instead picked up your gun, and started wandering the mansion. The intricate and antique decor of the house, along with the limited light, gave for a spooky vibe. You tried to best to ignore the warnings, nothing could be heard, you hadn't seen anyone yet, and blood was smeared all over the floors and wall. Stumbling around, you found a basement, and inside that basement was a door, glowing light behind it and the faint echo of footsteps. Without hesitation you force open the door, holding up your gun as you do so ready to fire. The person in the room stopped and turned to look at you, scowling for a moment before they had a shocked expression.

"Captain...? What the hell are you doing. And where are Chris and Jill."

"Didn't I tell you to wait for me? Just what do you think you're doing out of that room."

You step farther into the lab, the door to the room swinging shut behind you. If you had known what was about to happen you would have run back out and gone far, far away from this place.

"You didn't answer my question. Where are Chris and Jill."

"That is none of your concern. Now, why are you here, you were supposed to stay in the room I placed you in." He growls under his breath and you start walking towards him, standing by some messy lab tables and counter tops with failed experiments. The lights don't help illuminate the room very well, the room glowing a faint blue as you squint trying to see the man in front of you.

"It is some of my concern! They we're apart of STARS, same as me! What happened to them Wesker!?" You get up in his face and yell, but cut yourself off. Instead you stared at the red adorning his face. "Blood... what happened down here Wesker...?" Further down, his clothes are torn and tattered, coated with a mixture of his own blood and others.

"That's it, my patience has reached it's end." He slams you onto one of the tables, hovering above you snarling, his glasses slip down, and shows off his glowing, red eyes. You gasp and shake, you've come to a realization.

Albert Wesker isn't human anymore.

His hand immediately shoots to your throat, his other holding your hands above your head easily. The hand on your throat squeezes it, cutting off your airflow quickly and removing your ability to think anymore then you have, to focused about living.

"You should have listened to me. If you did this wouldn't have come to this. I was going to take my sweet time with you too, but I guess what must be done, must be done."

"Wait-!" You claw at his wrist, though it being pointless for his strength. Strength wise your Captain would most likely forever have an edge above you, and it made him grin as he watched you hopelessly attack him. Grabbing and Clawing at his wrist as you desperately tried to plead with him. "Please-! Stop-!"

"Stop? But why should I. Not when I'm having so much fun with you." He loosens his grasp, enough for you to talk easier at least, yet still enough to watch you squirm and heave.

"I-i'll do any-anything. J-just please do-don't kill me-" Squeezing again he thinks over the idea you've proposed.

"Anything, you say..." A devilish grin crossed his face as he stared down at you. "Are you sure about that offer, sweetheart?" His tone was mockingly sweet, jabbing at you for begging so pathetically.

"Y-yes...anything- just- please-" Speaking felt impossible with the way he was squeezing your throat, digging his nails in as well. The pain burned and you felt light headed and once he finally released you the dizziness stayed. It only really went away after you finally got air in your lungs again, gasping and choking as you tried to breathe again.

"That was a foolish offer you made, but I'm happy to take this opportunity to have you for myself." You stare up at him, unresponsive, still trying to catch your breath. The hand trapping your hands let's go and returns to his side. "Stand up and turn around."

"What-"

"You said you would do anything to live, now do as I say or you'll end up on a missing poster." Something you learned from the years of working with Wesker, he made promises, never threats. He stepped away from you and you slowly got up, doing as you were told. Facing away from him, you yelped out in shock as he pushed your head and chest onto the table. "I think I'll have fun breaking you.."

"What- what are you gonna do to me-?"

"Whatever I want, Dearheart."

--

I'm gonna make a part two to this I just can't motivate myself to get to the actual smut part. THERE WILL BE A SECOND PART. AND I WILL WRITE FUCKIN SMUT.