#his voice is sooooooo deep

[hawnks]

even in human form they refer to him as “puppycat”. is that literally his name

[wtfcuk835]

AHHHHHHH I THINK I HIT TAG LIMIT BUT OH MY GOD IT WAS SO SO SO SO SO CUTE AND SOFT AND INTIMATE AND ADORABLE.

I NEED TO CHEW ON SOMETHING. I NEED TO RUN AROUND. I NEED TO KISS THEM ALL FUCKINF SILLY. I LOVE LOVE LOVEEEEEEEEE THIS AND I LOVE YOU!!!!! THANK YOU ARI 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

suguru wakes up, with a jolt, to the sound of a thud and a meek little yelp.

his eyes blink open, like the shutter of an old camera, raven lashes fluttering along — met only with the dim darkness of your bedroom. not quite pitch black, the light of something soon to resemble dawn bleeding in through the closed blinds, a blue kind of hue that doesn’t do much for him. everything is still dark.

but he can make out shapes, see the ceiling above him, and when he turns his head to the right he can see the contours of shoko’s face; fast asleep, snores building up in her throat and spilling from her lips.

(ridiculously cute.)

sadly, suguru doesn’t have time to savour the sight. because it takes him no less than a moment to notice that his other sleepy baby isn’t there at all — he barely even has to look, just feeling the mattress below him, knowing something is missing. he can’t feel at ease unless you’re weighing it down.

”baby…?” he rasps, deep and groggy, body moving on its own. elbows digging into the mattress, lifting himself up — a tug of alarm stirring his heartstrings.

the thud, your absence, the unmistakable yelp.

his muddled mind puts three and three together — and he sluggishly, steadily pulls himself up, almost desperate to locate you, but careful not to wake shoko. he moves elegantly, like a panther, slipping out of bed, bare feet meeting the cold floorboards as he stands up to his full height. hair a mess, a raven’s nest, sweatpants close to slipping off one side of his hips. absently wiping at his bleary eyes.

as soon as he regains his vision, stands up straight — he sees you. lying on the floor, like an abandoned plushie, while the adorable culprit is sprawled out peacefully on the mattress above you. you’re trying to get up, all disoriented and sleepy, and suguru thinks his heart might just melt down to the marrow.

this is exactly why he makes sure to sleep on the edge of the bed, most nights. exactly to prevent this — prevent his lovers from rolling over, tumbling right off. he doesn’t mind sleeping in the middle on days you want one arm each to latch onto, of course not; nothing warms his heart more than having both his babies on either side of him. but it feels good, to be the shield between you and the hardwood floor — making sure neither of you could ever fall off. it feels good, to watch you both nuzzle together like a pair of sleepy kittens. left side, middle, he’s fine with either.

just as long as he can prevent this. having to watch your small, sleepy form paw at the floorboards in search of stability. it breaks his heart in two.

”oh, baby,” he croons, deep and dripping with honey, crouching down beside you. effortless, as he scoops you up into his arms, one of his palms curling around your back — running down your spine.

and your eyes flutter open. hazy eyes, blinking at him, gaze almost absent, like you’re not quite sure what you’re looking at; but you’re already leaning into his touch, muscles softening, as if your very essence knows you’re safe. in his arms, in his lap.

it makes him want to cry.

(it makes him want to give you everything.)

he wastes no time in securing you, arms under your legs and behind your back as he stands up again. cradling you close, letting out a quiet coo, as if shushing a disgruntled child. the fall must have woken you up, poor thing. he wishes he could be angry with shoko, but she looks too sweet, when she’s so deeply asleep; drooling a little, groaning out something that sounds like a name. he only shakes his head, still rubbing gentle circles into your back.

”what a little bully, huh…?” 

no response. you’re already starting to nod off, again, and so he gets back into bed — guiding you to rest against the wall, safe and secure, where no sleepy girlfriends can get to you. tucking you in under his chin, making sure you’re comfortable against him.

(your shield, always. that’s all he wants to be.)

his lips find their way onto your forehead, pressing a gentle kiss between your brows. soft and chaste, holding you snugly, so eager to dote on you. his heart is still bleeding with tenderness, he can’t keep it in, it’s leaking all over the mattress and urging him to hold you tighter against his ribs. he thinks of how confused you must have been, waking up on the floor, wonders if you hurt your head on the way down — pressing another kiss there, for good measure. 

sweetly, sleepily, your lips curl up into a smile. 

a yawn slips past your lips, as you nuzzle into him, cheek all squished against his cushiony chest. looking so pleased that he almost wonders if this was your plan all along, a way to get all his attention.

suddenly, a weight drapes itself against his spine.

while he’s busy coaxing you back to sleep, he feels it; a sleepy murmur, muffled right against his bare skin, as a pair of lanky arms wrap around his waist. her voice is so raspy he just barely picks up on it, but his ears are attuned to every sound she makes.

shoko stirs behind him, fingers digging into his hips.

”… give ’em back…”

… his brows furrow.

”thief,” she yawns, again, all groggy and gruff. so, so silly. ”give them back… you’re so greedy…”

a raise of his brow, as he breathes out a scoff. ”you kicked them off the bed, you know…”

shoko only breathes out another groggy grumble, in response; her lanky arms tugging at his shoulders, using them as leverage to drag herself over his body and closest to the wall. he only lets out an amused huff, letting her manhandle him a bit — letting her snuggle up to you, warming your back. suguru feels himself smiling. watching you squirm, when her short, auburn strands tickle your sensitive collarbone, when she sighs into your neck. right in the middle of the two, right where you should be.

right where you belong.

he leans forward, brushes the curtain of your bangs away from your face, plants his lips against your forehead; smears a kiss against shoko’s cheek. he can’t help himself but to fall into you, breathe in the scent of your moisturizer, fading citrus drops and coconut oil. can’t help himself but to love you.

(his angels, he thinks, the word stuck on his tongue. his reason to be.)

suguru hugs you both close, now separating you fully from the edge of the bed, the chilly mahogany floor just waiting for impact. like the steady wall he always yearns to be, your ever-eager guard dog, even in your sleep. he’d like to jump into your dreams, make sure they treat you kindly — but he can’t. 

so this will have to do.

with a sigh, his lashes flutter shut. eyes drooping, every muscle in his body beginning to relax, sink into the mattress below. you’re safe, and shoko’s safe. that’s enough to put his heart deliriously at ease.

with the dark blue shade of the almost-morning sky bleeding in through the window’s glass, the city fast asleep beyond it — suguru closes his eyes. he whispers, breathes a silent prayer into the top of your head. he hopes you can still hear it, that it can bring you both solace, that his wish will come true.

”sweet dreams, my angels.”

(that’s all he could ask for.)

[papaya-twinks]

wet race - l.n

Warnings: smut, 18+, fingering, SEX

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - this video made me go feral sooooooo….smut 😫 also pretend the interviewer is a woman coz that’s y/n 🫡🫡🫡

“Lando,” you smiled at the driver in front of you, “your car really came alive in the wet today and…” you were cut off as the Brit leaned forward, the ghost of a smirk across his perfect features. “Car? Or driver?” you cheeks reddened at the words - maybe you were making it seem dirty, and besides, what did he mean? 

His eyes were firmly on yours as you sat back down in the seat, Lando’s gaze never leaving yours. “Jesus, Y/N,” your boss said, walking to you after the race, “what’s with the hiccup?”. You knew he was referring to the question that had you all flustered and you blushed again, looking down. “Sorry, sir,” you mumbled as he clicked his tongue.

You watched as he moved away, leaving you in the now empty media room as you collected your belongings from your chair. “So,” a voice said, making you jump and turn round, eyes meeting Lando’s, “got in trouble for that little moment, hm?” a smirk flicked across the driver’s face as you groaned. You had an interesting relationship with Lando. 

Most drivers liked you, actually, especially Lando, he’d usually be all smiley during interviews with you, when he knew you’d be there. But the past few weeks, you couldn’t help but notice the places his eyes darted during your questions, or the excessive chewing of his lips when he was around you - and it was driving you feral. “What were you thinking, hm?” he walked out you, his hands buried in his pockets. 

“Something dirty?” his words immediately sent a jolt through your body, your cheeks reddening as he smirked. “That’s what I thought,” he hummed, his chest pressed to your back as you inhaled sharply. “Did my driving make you wet, love?” Lando’s lips ghosted over your ear as you chewed on your lip. You gasped softly as his hand came to your skirt, his fingers brushing your panties, feeling the wetness between your legs. 

“It did,” he commented, moving his hand back. You nearly whined at the loss of contact, a smirk spreading across Lando’s features. “Needy,” he hummed, taking your hand and leading you to the usual sofa where the press conference took place. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as he sat you in the exact spot he’d been sitting. 

“Handle you just like I handled the car,” he mused, moving to push your legs apart, your cheeks red as he lifted your skirt. Your teeth sank into your lip as he licked a long stripe between your legs, your core throbbing with need. He hummed as you wriggled against him, his nose brushing your bundle of nerves as a moan left your lips. 

Lando hissed at the feeling, moving his large hand to your stomach, pushing you down as he tugged at your panties with his teeth. Your eyes widened as he immediately flicked his tongue at your core, purposefully rubbing his nose across your clit as you moaned. Lando dipped his long, thick middle finger into your wetness, pushing in deep as he moved your legs over his shoulders. 

Your eyes rolled slightly as he added another finger, pumping slowly as his tongue worked at your pussy, he moved his other hand to unbuckled his belt, pulling his trousers down, his other hand and his tongue buried between your legs hungrily, Lando’s throbbing length in his hand as he stroked himself. Your eyes were focused on his member, the long vein along the bottom, the thick head. 

“Want this, don’t you?” he mused, eyes on you as you nodded, desperate to feel him in you. Lando was more than happy to oblige, bringing his length to align with your entrance  before pushing in, your legs thrown over his shoulders, a small bump forming in your stomach.

Your moan was loud as he started rocking in and out of you, your eyes rolling slightly from the pleasure. “Lando,” you moaned as he grunted, his pace picking up by the second. He carried on, his fingers digging into your thighs as he sped up, the knot building up in your stomach. 

Lando could feel your high approaching as he stared keen at you, your body rocking with each movement. “Wanted to do this so long,” he groaned, his cheeks red with pleasure, “wanted to bend you over the damn media pen fence,”. His words spurred you on, your whimpers and moans fuelling his desire. 

Your orgasms hit simultaneously as he pulled out, his cum spilling onto your stomach, eyes wide. Lando pulled out slowly, pulling whimpers and whines from you as he did so, holding your hand through the way. “Gonna take so much self control to not just fuck you every conference,” he muttered, wiping his cum off of your stomach ad you nodded 

[prettycoolgirl]

young rich & in love

pairing: dbf!logan howlett x f!reader. summary: sunday night football with your dad and logan, who knows what’s gonna happen... a/n: hey, my comeback has arrived!! i haven't posted fanfic on here in sooooooo long but hopefully, this makes up for it, i've had this idea in my head for weeks and finally decided to write it (saveeee me old man logan). please lemme know if i made any errors i hateee proofreading 😭 tyyy <33 also feel free to send me concepts!  warnings: 18+, smut ofc, age gap (reader is in her 20s). implied panty stealing. oral (m receiving). small daddy kink? definitely more warnings… word count: 2.7k 

It was your Father's and Logan's daily Sunday routine of watching football games together yet today was different. You walked past the living room and saw Logan sitting on the couch, with a beer in his hand, eyes focused on the screen as he watched the game. Your dad was in the kitchen getting snacks and a couple of more Coors, leaving the two of you alone in the room. Logan caught you just in time and smiled, his eyes lingering on you. "Hey, why don’t you come and watch the game with us," he said.

 “As much as I would love to hear you and my dad constantly screaming at the TV, I can’t I gotta get ready for my date tonight with Jacob, sorry” you smiled slightly. Quickly Logan's smile faded at the mention of your date. He tried to hide it, but you could still see a hint of disappointment in his eyes.

 "Oh no need to be sorry bubs, and How’s he treating you?" he questioned. 

"He’s been treating me well I guess." you said stating the last part quietly, deep down you knew you weren’t telling the truth, the truth is that he’s been flaking on dates between you too because he “doesn’t feel well”, yet your friends send you photos that same night of his Instagram stories where he’s out partying with friends.

 Logan’s eyebrow raised upon hearing your response. “What do you mean ‘Well I Guess’” He asked. “You don’t sound so sure about that baby” He drank a bit of his beer looking into your eyes. 

 That nickname he used so often with you, always seemed to have an effect on you. For context, You always had a crush on Logan, you thought it would have gone away with it just being a ‘stupid teenage crush’ but no it wasn't. The crush on that man had gotten stronger the older you’ve gotten. You hoped he had some sort of crush on you at all. Some days you would notice all the side glances he would make when you exited the house all dressed up or even when you would kiss Jacob goodbye when he dropped you off at home. 

 “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it Logan.” you tried to reassure him. 

You knew Logan was hard to try to convince him of something. He knew you were keeping something from him, and he was going to get it out of you. 

“I know you too well, Something’s bothering you, You know you can talk to me. I won’t tell your old man.” He put his beer down on the coffee table and turned closer towards you.

“Tell me the truth bubs. Is he not treating you right? You shouldn't be dealing with that baby” he said using that nickname you loved, putting his hand on your thigh rubbing it&keeping eye contact while smirking.

Your heart races at seeing him rubbing his thumb over your thighs. His goddamn smirk too.

“He’s ju-” 

You were interrupted mid-sentence by your dad walking into the room.

Logan moved his hand back to himself, grabbing his beer and clearing his throat. Your dad entered the room, with his snacks laid out on a big plate and another six-pack of beer. "Oh, you gonna watch the game with us? I thought Jacob was taking you out." your dad asked settling down the plate and beers in front of the two men’s seats.  

"Uh no sadly not, I'm still going out with Jacob tonight," you said, a hint of irritation in your voice. "So if you guys don't mind me, I need to go get ready. This hair and makeup is not gonna get done by itself." You shot a glance at Logan, his expression unreadable, before quickly exiting the room. 

As you left the room, you swear you felt Logan's eyes on your back piercing right through you as you walked upstairs toward your bedroom. In your bedroom You fixed up your hair a bit and walked back and forth through your closet trying to pick what you were gonna wear but thoughts of Logan’s hand rubbing your thigh just kept invading your mind. The thought of him just alone made you wet. God the affect that man had on you. No matter how much you try to ignore it, more thoughts of him rushed back in and so did questions. Was he jealous? Why did he look disappointed when you mentioned your boyfriend, Jacob? 

You could not let the thought of your dad’s best friend cross your mind anymore, you had to finish getting ready, either way, Jacob told you yesterday to be ready by 4 and time was approaching. You previously made the plan to get fucked tonight, Jacob had to appreciate what he had. You slipped into your mini skirt that matched perfectly with your shirt—sitting at your vanity, applying your everyday makeup. As you moved on to applying a final coat of lipgloss, you heard your phone buzz. You picked it up and felt your stomach drop as you read the message from “jacob <3” 

 "Gotta raincheck tonight I’m not feeling well again, sorry bb" 

He did it once again for the 4th time, yet this time he promised he wouldn’t cancel still yet he did. Anger filled you, you had spent so much time getting ready, just for him to cancel like always. You’re ready for nothing, no plans, no nothing. You were pissed. You began to type up some utter bullshit “oh okay feel better soon love you<33.” 

He quickly replied by liking the message with a thumbs up. 

 Not even a “Love you too” What the fuck, Fuck him, Fuck this Logan was right you shouldn’t be dealing with this. Enough was enough. You were done with his bullshit. Your plan of at least fucking Jacob one more time was not going to happen at all and you needed to get laid lord knows how long it's been. You decided were gonna get some drinks from downstairs and try to forget about Jacob.

As you walked out of your room and down the stairs, scouraging through your dad’s liquor drawer. You heard the voices of your dad and Logan floating through the air, watching the football game. You suddenly had an idea. If Jacob couldn't appreciate you, maybe it was time to play a game with someone else who might appreciate your presence more.

Discarding the drawer you began to walk into the living room walking past your dad and Logan. You could tell Logan was trying hard not to stare at you with that skirt. “oh, is Jacob here?” your dad said.

“No, we’re not going out anymore. He’s not feeling well so I figured I’d just watch the game with you guys” You smiled knowing damn right it was a lie, sitting directly on the couch near Logan. 

Your dad looked over at you with a mix of surprise and a bit of concern on his face. “Really? Everything alright with Jacob?” He asked. Logan seemed to tense up even more as you sat down right next to him, your legs almost touching his. 

“Yeah, he said he’s just gonna stay in and rest up,” you replied as your dad simply nodded in acknowledgment.

 Meanwhile, Your dad's eyes were glued to the screen, not noticing the tension in the room. As the game continued, you tried to act natural, pretending to be interested in the players' moves while secretly glancing at Logan. He stole a few glances your way, his eyes roaming over your short skirt, before quickly looking away. You could feel his gaze burning into you, and you couldn’t help but secretly enjoy the attention. 

As the first half of the game finished and halftime began, your dad got up and announced, "Well, it's halftime. I'm gonna go use the restroom real quick. I'll be right back." He gave you two a quick smile before heading out of the room.

As soon as your dad left the room, the tension in the air thickened. You were suddenly alone with Logan on the couch, the only sound was the faint commentary from the TV.

From what you could tell you saw Logan fiddling with the remote of the television before he said, "This damn remote won't work. I can't hear anything!" 

"Give me it, lemme try," you offered, pointing to the volume control on the TV box.

Slowly, you bent down to turn up the volume trying to put your skirt down a bit, taking your sweet time. "How's that?" you asked, looking directly at Logan for a response.

He swallowed hard as he caught sight of your ass falling out of your mini skirt. His eyes try to balance between the TV and your exposed skin. "Yeah, uh... yeah, that's better," he mumbled, trying to maintain his composure. Once you sat back on the couch, you casually glanced at him and saw him adjusting his jeans and squirming where he was sitting. You couldn't help but smirk as you looked quickly towards the TV, knowing full well the effect you were having on Logan. Your plan working all accordingly.

Your dad came back from the bathroom and, seeing how uneasy and squirmy Logan was looking, asked him, "Logan, you okay buddy?

"Yeah, I'm good," Logan muttered. 

The game resumed, with the atmosphere was heavy. Both of you were distracted; the game was on, but neither of you watched. Your dad was completely oblivious to the tension you both were building.

Logan kept replaying the image of you bent over, eyes staring right at him. His mind soon began to wander to thoughts about only you. He knew the game wouldn’t be over for a while.

Once 20 minutes had passed, Logan had enough and decided to excuse himself to use the restroom.

”I’ll be back gotta use the restroom,” he said while getting up.

“Are you sure? Man, you're gonna miss the game.” your dad asked Logan.

“yeah, it’s fine.” he quickly replied walking by.

You stayed downstairs with your dad to watch the game. Already getting tired of just watching the game, you decided to go to your room and work on some assignments, using it as an excuse. You bid your dad goodnight and told him you might not come down again that night.

"Alright, kiddo," your dad replied. "Goodnight, and don't stay up too late. Oh, and can you do me a favor?"

"Sure, Dad. What is it?" you asked.

"Can you knock on the bathroom door and call out to Logan? He's going to miss out on the rest of the game if he doesn't come out soon," your dad replied concerned.

"Yeah, no problem," you smiled assuring your dad.

You made your way up to the bathroom, your footsteps a bit quicker than usual. You knocked gently on the door, but there was no response. 

"Weird," you muttered under your breath. Feeling a mix of curiosity and growing worry, you turned away from the bathroom and headed toward your room instead.

As you entered, your eyes widened in shock and surprise. There, standing before you, was Logan, going through your underwear drawer.

"You perv," you exclaimed, jokingly lightly smacking his shoulder.

He visibly jumped, caught in the act. His face reddened as he frantically tried to come up with an explanition.

"Shit, look, it's not-" he began, his words stumbling over each other in his act to explain.

You cut him off, "Oh, it's exactly what it looks like, Lo.”

He was too stunned to speak.

You crossed your arms, in annoyance, and said, "So you're the reason my panties have been going missing?"

Logan's eyes widened, his guilt evident. He tried to protest, "No, no, look, you don't understand-"

But you interrupted him again, "But I do. I've seen the way you've looked at me, and those sneaky touches on my thighs... I've seen it all, Logan."

Logan's face flushed with embarrassment, and he quickly closed the drawer. He looked at you, the evidence of his actions clear.

"I... I can explain," he muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

You raised an eyebrow, giving Logan a skeptical look. "Explain then," you said, leaning against the wall, and crossing your arms.

Frustration and lust appeared on Logan's face as he replied, "You know what, no. You teased me all damn night. I deserve this at least. You were trying to get me killed out there.”

“What teasing are you even talking about?” you acted oblivious.

“You realize what you were doing out there is so wrong. Don't try to act all innocent now.”

“I'm sorry, I don't know what you’re talking about Logan," You started smirking.

“You know exactly what I'm talking about,” Logan growled, his voice low. "You were bending over out there, practically flashing your ass at me. You knew what you were doing, didn’t you? Getting me all hard in front of your old man huh?”

“I was just trying to fix the volume for you.” Still trying to keep the innocent act up.

“Bullshit baby,” he said eying your mini skirt. 

Logan's eyes darkened with desire as he walked closer to you, backing you against the wall. "Don't play dumb. You know exactly the effect you have on me." His voice was low and husky.

"Walking around in these tiny outfits, bending over every chance you get."

As you locked eyes with Logan, your steady gaze holding his, you repeated your question, "And what are you gonna do about it?" You slowly knelt before him, your face now inches away from the button of his jeans. 

Logan's gazed down at you, hand going to caress your chin. He took a step closer to you. "You know what I wanna do, outta teach you a lesson," he said, his voice hoarse with lust.

Within seconds you pulled his pants down, dragging his boxers along with them letting his dick spring freely out. 

"Suck on it." 

Obeying what he said you started coating his cock with your spit. Logan groaned softly as your lips wrapped around his thick shaft, your tongue swirling expertly. His hands tangled in your hair, guiding your head as you bobbed up and down. "Fuck, just like that baby," he breathed, trying to keep his voice low.

“Ah, fuck.” Hearing him moan made you love pleasing Logan with his cock in your mouth. That alone made you soaking wet. 

He grunted as he felt the head of his cock hit the back of your throat, your lips stretched wide around his girth gagging a bit, eyes watering. "Shh, careful now," he whispered urgently, glancing at the door. "We can't make too much noise with your dad right downstairs."

Logan's eyes widened in shock and arousal as you carefully moved your mouth off his throbbing erection, your voice breathy as you said "It's too much, Daddy." He shuddered at the forbidden words, his cock twitching with need even as his mind reeled.

His hands shook as he watched you wipe a strand of your spit off your hand, the sight sending a jolt of desire through him. He quickly glanced at the door again before grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him.

"Fuck, baby, you can't say that out loud. Not ever."

Gripping on your chin tightened as you wrapped your lips around his hot, hard flesh once more. His voice grew strained as he hissed, "Faster, baby… just like that... Oh God, harder...harder... I'm not gonna last... not with you sucking me off like that..."

Logan's words tumbled out in a desperate, breathless rush as you worked his throbbing cock with your mouth. "This is so wrong... but fuck baby, your mouth feels so good... I can't think straight... shit, I'm not gonna last... oh fuck, I'm gonna..."

His voice rose to a hoarse scream as his orgasm crashed over him, his hips bucking wildly as he fucked your mouth without warning. "Fuckk!" he groaned, his cock pulsing violently as he erupted into your mouth, painting your throat with thick ropes of cum.

He panted, trying to catch his breath as he came down from his high.

"Your dad's gonna kill me," he said shakily, his body still trembling from release. He quickly tucked himself back into his pants before pulling you up into his arms.

[awkward-walking-potato]

I’m obsessed with how you write for Logan, like it’s becoming an addiction at this point. Maybe after a hard week for reader and for Logan, they finally get some time together. So Logan puts on some slow music from the 40s/50s and pulls reader into the kitchen of the apartment to slow dance together. So they just hold each other, maybe discuss some things, or get kind of vulnerable with each other. And it’s just cute and sweet. And then from the living room Wade speaks up, breaking their perfect moment together because let’s be honest, it’s Wade. I love your writing sooooooo much. Thank you🤍

Dancing in the Kitchen

The apartment was quiet, a rarity these days. The week had been long—brutal even. Missions, confrontations, sleepless nights—both you and Logan had been worn thin by the constant demands of a world that never seemed to give either of you a break.

But tonight, the world was far away. The curtains were drawn, the lights dimmed low. The only sound was the steady hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of the old wooden floorboards beneath your feet. You leaned against the kitchen counter, letting out a deep breath. The weight of the past days still clung to you like a heavy coat, but at least here, in this small space with Logan, you felt some semblance of peace.

Logan appeared in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the frame, and you couldn’t help but smile. His usual scowl was softened, the lines of his face more relaxed than you’d seen in days. He held up an old vinyl record, its cover worn but still intact, and nodded toward the living room.

“Thought we could use a little music,” he said, his gruff voice tinged with a warmth that made your heart swell.

You nodded, watching as he moved to the old record player he’d insisted on keeping despite its age. The needle dropped, and soon the soft crackle of the record filled the air, followed by the smooth, crooning voice of a singer from long ago. The melody was slow, languid, like honey dripping from a spoon, sweet and comforting.

Logan turned back to you, holding out his hand. “C’mon, darlin’. Let’s dance.”

You hesitated for only a moment before slipping your hand into his. His grip was firm, but gentle as he pulled you into the center of the kitchen. There wasn’t much room, but it didn’t matter. In fact, it felt more intimate this way, with the small space making you press closer to him.

Logan’s other hand settled on your waist, and you looped your arm around his neck, your fingers brushing against the short hairs at the nape. For a few seconds, neither of you moved, just swayed slightly to the rhythm of the music, finding a comfortable sync.

“I miss this,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Yeah, me too.”

The two of you began to move slowly, your bodies swaying in time with the music. There was something almost magical about it, the way the world seemed to fade away until it was just the two of you in this moment. The tension that had been coiled tight in your chest started to loosen, and you found yourself resting your head against Logan’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“You’ve been holdin’ up okay?” Logan asked, his voice rumbling through his chest and into your ear.

You sighed, a little shakier than you intended. “It’s been hard. I feel like I’m running on fumes.”

He tightened his arm around you, pulling you even closer. “I know the feelin’. But you’re doin’ better than you think. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

You lifted your head to meet his eyes, finding them softer than usual. “You really think so?”

“Hell yeah,” he replied without hesitation. “You’ve been through worse, and you’ve come out on top every time. This week’s just another bump in the road.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the music or the closeness. Logan didn’t dole out compliments often, but when he did, you knew he meant every word. It was one of the things you loved most about him—his unwavering honesty.

“Thanks, Logan,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Anytime, darlin’.”

For a while, you both just danced, the music wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. You could feel Logan’s breath on your hair, his strong, calloused hand still holding yours firmly, like he was afraid to let go. And for the first time in days, you felt safe, like everything might just be okay.

But then, as if the universe couldn’t resist ruining the moment, you heard a loud, exaggerated sniffle from the living room.

“Oh my God, you guys are so cute, it’s making me nauseous!” Wade’s voice broke through the serene atmosphere, full of dramatic flair. “Seriously, I’m over here trying to watch a movie, and it’s like a Hallmark commercial in there!”

Logan stiffened, and you couldn’t help but laugh. It was impossible to be mad at Wade when he was just being his usual self. You turned your head to see him sprawled out on the couch, a bowl of popcorn balanced on his stomach, his mask pulled up just enough to reveal his mouth.

“Wade,” Logan growled, though there was more exasperation than anger in his tone.

“What? Don’t look at me like that, Wolvie! I’m just appreciating the domestic bliss you two have got going on here. It’s inspiring. I might even write a poem about it later. ‘Ode to the Mutants Who Dance in the Kitchen’—has a nice ring to it, don’t ya think?”

You rolled your eyes, grinning despite yourself. “Wade, do you ever stop talking?”

“Not unless I’m unconscious, which, thanks to this wonderful healing factor of mine, is pretty rare,” Wade shot back, grinning cheekily.

Logan sighed, shaking his head, but you could see the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a reluctant smile. “You’re impossible, Wilson.”

“And you love me for it,” Wade replied, throwing a popcorn kernel into the air and catching it in his mouth.

You turned back to Logan, the moment interrupted but not entirely lost. You gave him a small smile, your hand squeezing his gently. “We can always try again later.”

Logan nodded, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips. “Damn right we will. And this time, I’m lockin’ the door.”

Wade’s voice piped up again from the living room. “Locking the door won’t keep me out, Honey Badger! I’m like Santa Claus, I’ll find a way in!”

You and Logan both laughed, the tension of the week finally melting away completely. Maybe the moment wasn’t perfect, but it was yours—and that made it better than anything else.

[auggieblogs]

nsfw | mdni | oscar piastri x fem! reader | smut with no plot?

Author's note: Sooooooo, my first time writing smut, an unexplored territory for a reason. I had to proofread this multiple times because I have no idea how sex works in real life😁🙏🏼. Will I do this again? Probably. If I get a good enough prompt but I’m definitely more comfortable writing the pg13 stuff. Anyways I am going to kms if y’all don’t like it. Happy reading, loves<3

ALSO AGAIN, MDNI!!!! THIS CONTENT IS NOT SUITABLE FOR ALL AUDIENCES.

―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist

He lay back against the plush pillows, his breath catching in his throat as you straddled his hips. Your hair cascaded around your shoulders, framing your face perfectly. His hands rested on your waist, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips.

"You look incredible," he murmured, his hands moving to grip your hips, guiding you as you slowly sank down onto him.

A moan escaped your lips as he filled you, stretching you in a delicious way. You paused for a moment, savouring the sensation of him deep inside you, your hands braced against his chest. Oscar's grip tightened on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he struggled to hold back.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his voice rough with need.

You began to move, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles, feeling every inch of him. Oscar's eyes were glued to your breasts, watching them bounce and sway with each movement. His hands left your hips, one moving to grasp your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

"Oscar," you moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as you rode him, your movements becoming more erratic. The way he looked at you, only fueled your desire. You leaned forward, giving him an even better view, your breasts swaying dangerously close to his face.

He leaned up, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and licking in a way that had you crying out, your fingers threading through his hair to hold him close. The combination of his mouth on your tits and his cock thrusting deep inside you was enough to drive you wild.

"Fuck, Oscar," you gasped, your head falling back as the pleasure overwhelmed you.

You sped up your movements, riding him harder, faster. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixed with your moans and his grunts of pleasure. You could feel the pressure building inside you, your body tightening with each thrust.

He reached up, pulling you down into a searing kiss as he thrust up into you harder. The change in angle hit just the right spot, sending you spiralling over the edge.

“Oscar,” you whimpered, feeling your climax approaching.

“I’m close too, baby,” he panted, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you were sure you’d have bruises in the morning.

With one final thrust, you both fell over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you with a force that had you rolling your eyes and screaming his name. Oscar followed right behind, his own release triggering a low, guttural moan from deep in his chest.

You collapsed onto his chest, both of you breathing heavily, your bodies slick with sweat. Oscar’s hands moved gently over your back, soothing as you both came down from your high.

“Fuck, that was incredible,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You smiled, lifting your head to look at him. “You’re incredible,” you replied, kissing his lips softly.

[demonic-charcuterie]

Asmodeus x Fizzarolli x mob boss! Reader

Ozzie pulled on his morning robe as Fizzarolli listed off his morning schedule.

“And then we need to take a trip to the greed.” Fizzarolli said while Ozzie slid his bacon on the white plate.

“Greed?” Ozzie’s deep voice said washing his hand.

“Y/n is back from her business trip. I figured we could surprise her.” Fizz said smiling wildly.

“Maybe you should called first? Remember last time you should up unannounced?”

Fizzarolli shuddered as chills ran down his back while he dialed your number

You had just put a spear to someones head when your phone started ringing with that adorable wind chime ringtone you have just for your Fizzpop which of course drowned out by the sound of gun fire to you just assumed it was your work partner Sergey.

“NOWS REALLY NOT A GOOD TIME SERGEY, WHAT THE FUCK!?!!?…WAIT HOLD ON I THINK I HAVE ANOTHER GERNADE…BANG! THATS RIGHT YOU BITCH ASS!”

Fizzarolli held his ear away from the phone until the sound of yelling and gunfire suddenly stopped at the sound of a limousine door closing.

“It’s Fizzy silly!” He said giggling.

“OH FIZZY! Baby, honey how have you been! I’m sooooooo sorry my work trip lasted so much time. Have you been eating alright and how about those new limps me and Ozzie were working on. Is Ozzie near by. I’m so sorry my super cute ringtone for you was drowned out by the all the screaming of pain and agony!”

“Everything’s FINE! I was just wondering if my and Ozzie could come over~?” His raspy voice growled into the phone and if you hadn’t been sitting your knees would’ve have given out.

“I-oh! Did we have a date tonight!? One sec babes. STAN! STAN YOU SHIT FACED BITCH YOU DIDNT TELL ME I HAD A DATE TONIGHT!”

Ozzie raised an eye and then grinned to himself. “They are so fucking hot when they yell.” He said his legs shuddering. Fizzarolli nodded his head in agreement as he mouthed ‘I know right’. Ozzie gently took the phone from Fizzarolli’s hand his deeply sinful voice rang out into your ear.

“Hey mami~” He whispered and your jaw went slack. “Baby boy is that you?” You asked as you felt your legs quenching at the sound of your handsome man’s voice.

“Yeah it’s. How’ve you been baby.” He asked smirking. “It’s been good, same old same old, breaking backs and cracking skulls!” You giggled and kicked your feet against the seat. Satan’s fucking taint this motherfucker.

“Great great. You know what me and Fizz would really love?” He asked as he heard your voice hitch over the phone. Fizz extended his arm and snatched the phone. “For. You. TO BREAK OUR FUCKING BACKS WHIEL YOU USE US AS LITTLE FUCK TOYS!”

Ozzie looked at Fizz in surprise. You giggled on the other side of the phone and you whisper in a raspy voice into the phone. “Come over. I’ll be ready for you.”

Fizz rested on Ozzie shoulder as one of your goons marched them down to your room. You sat on a chair in the center of the room with your broad surrounding you. “Ahh the Sun of Lust, the fuck are you doing here.” You spat (it pained you to act with such disgust towards your love) your eyes peered into fizzaroli. “And you brought the sex toy?”

Ozzie stared at you expressionless and waved a hand to your board. You sighed and flicked your wrist. “Leave us.” They all scurried out of the room.

You drew the curtains and closed the door and then turned to them. “My babies!” You screamed before jumping into their arms.

“Oh honey how we’ve missed your voice…and your touch.” Ozzie said while using his pinkie finger to stroke your head.

“We’ve even thinking about you all week!” Fizz said wrapped his arms around you.

(That’s it cause I’m tired 🥱)

[goddessofvalyria]

ALIVE | Martin (In the modern world) x fem!oc

As I saw Ewan Mitchell in the music video for Fontaines DC - In The Modern World, I obviously know that music video made us Tumblr girls write sooooooo much and I'm here for that.

English is not my first language, be kind and enjoy it <3

READ HERE THE SECOND PART OF THE ONE-SHOT "DEATH"

Summary: Cassandra and Martin are both devastated, how can they no longer feel the pain? Getting lost in each other.

TW: 18+, MINORS DNI, She/Her pronouns, the fem!oc is named Cassandra with long wavy dark black hair and blue-purple eyes, masturbation (f receiving), SMUT, sex, drug use, violence, blood, murder, death, sadness.

This is my Masterlist

Words: 3184

Cassandra shivered as she stepped out into the cold night, her breath forming misty clouds in the air. The winter chill was relentless, but she barely noticed it. Her black fur coat provided some warmth, but it couldn't reach the cold that had settled deep within her. Her long, wavy black hair fluttered in the biting wind, framing her face, where her once-vibrant blue-violet eyes now appeared hollow and distant.

She walked quickly, her knee-high leather boots crunching against the thin layer of snow that covered the sidewalk. The streets were empty, silent except for the occasional hum of a distant car. She checked her phone, glancing at the last message she'd received. It was from someone she barely knew, a boy who was a drug dealer who had agreed to meet her tonight. He was a friend of a friend, someone who could get her what she needed.

When she reached the parking lot, it was nearly deserted, save for a single car parked under the dim light of a flickering streetlamp. Cassandra paused for a moment, feeling a twinge of hesitation, but she quickly pushed it aside. She didn't have the luxury of second thoughts tonight.

Martin sat in his car, nervously tapping the steering wheel as he waited. He didn't know who he was meeting, just that it was a girl in need, willing to pay well. But when he saw her approaching, he felt his heart skip a beat. It was Cassandra, the girl he had admired from afar and had a crush on during their school days. Back then, she was everything he wasn't—beautiful, popular, and effortlessly smart. He had been just another face in the crowd, unnoticed by someone like her.

Cassandra opened the car door and slipped inside, her movements mechanical, as if she was on autopilot. She didn't look at him, her focus entirely on the transaction.

"Do you have it?" she asked, her voice flat and devoid of emotion.

Martin hesitated, the recognition hitting him hard. She didn't seem to realize who he was, but how could she? The boy she once knew was long gone, just as the girl she once was seemed to have disappeared.

"Cassandra?" he said softly, searching her face for any sign of the person he remembered. Her eyes flicked toward him, and for a moment, she seemed to wake up from whatever trance she was in. 

"Martin?" she said, her voice tinged with disbelief. "I didn’t know… Look, I just need the stuff, okay? I want to forget for a while."

He handed her the small bag of drugs, his hand trembling slightly. "What happened to you?" he asked, unable to keep the question inside.

"You were… everything."

He loved her in silence. He loved her for many years but he was the metalhead boy of the school.

Her gaze hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line. "What happened to me? Life happened, Martin. People change. Now, just let me be. I just want to forget and don't asking fucking questions."

Martin swallowed hard, struggling with the mix of emotions swirling inside him. He couldn't be rude to her. He knew he should just give her the drug, but seeing the girl who once shone with popularity and light, reduced like that, with obvious dark circles under her eyes, shaking hands and a spent cigarette between her fingers broke his heart. She had always been so beautiful, so… unique in his eyes and even if she had never deigned to look at him, he had always loved her in silence and from afar.

"Come with me" he said, the words spilling out before he could think them through. "We can talk… if you want, if you need."

She looked at him, her expression unreadable, but after a long moment, she nodded. She didn't know why she agreed, perhaps it was the familiarity of his face or the desperation in his voice, but she stayed in the car and then followed him back to his small, modest house.

Inside, the dim light cast shadows across the room, amplifying the feeling of isolation. Cassandra sat on the edge of his bed, removing her fur coat and laying it beside her. The room was dark, quiet, almost stifling, as Martin stepped out to get her some water.

When he returned, he stopped in his tracks. In the soft glow of the bedside lamp, he noticed the bruises on her arms, the way she winced as she adjusted her position on the bed. The sight hit him like a punch to the gut, and he felt a wave of anger and sadness wash over him. She was wearing a short black dress with thin straps and torn tights. How could she not feel cold? It was clear that something was wrong with her.

Cassandra caught him staring at her and tried to cover her bruises with her hands, trying to hide the evidence of her pain. But it was too late. The tears she'd been holding back began to fall, silent and steady, as she wrapped her arms around herself, as if trying to hold herself together.

"I don’t know how I got here" she whispered, her voice breaking. "I don’t know who I am anymore."

Martin sat beside her, unsure of what to say or do. He had never imagined seeing her like this, so broken and lost. He wanted to help, but he didn't know how. All he could do was be there, offering what little comfort he could.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small pill. "Here" he said, his voice gentle. "It might help… take the edge off."

Cassandra looked at the pill in his hand, then at him. "You don't have to pay for these" he said lowly. For a moment, she hesitated, but then she took it, placing it on her tongue and swallowing it down without a word. She lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if searching for answers that would never come.

Martin lay beside her, the two of them silent, lost in their own thoughts. The darkness in the room seemed to mirror the darkness within them, a shared pain that neither of them knew how to escape. And so they lay there, side by side, two lost souls in the night, hoping for some kind of relief, however fleeting it might be.

"Who did this to you?" he asked. "Someone who tells me he loves me"

Cassandra drifted into a restless sleep, the pill he had given her slowly taking effect, Martin's phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket, glancing at the screen.

"I know you have something for me, a friend of a friend tell me that you can help me. - Joe."

It was a message from Joe—Cassandra's boyfriend. He wanted to meet, to buy drugs. Martin stared at the message, his mind racing. This was the man who had done that to her, the one who had destroyed the girl he had once admired. He knew him, in high school Joe had beaten him up numerous times in the school bathrooms.

Without a second thought, Martin replied, agreeing to meet. He gently covered Cassandra with a blanket, his heart aching as he watched her sleep. Then, with a grim resolve, he slipped out of the apartment, the door clicking shut behind him.

The night was even colder now, but Martin barely felt it. His mind was consumed with thoughts of what he was about to do. He drove to the meeting spot, a desolate area on the outskirts of town, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

Joe was already there, leaning against his car, looking as smug and careless as ever. Martin's stomach churned with disgust as he approached and Joe sat in the passenger’s side. Joe didn't even bother to greet him, just held out a hand, waiting for the drugs. Martin handed them over without a word, his mind already calculating his next move.

"Did you have only this? Fuck, now I have to hear my girlfriend's scream when she yells at me" he said with grief in his voice. "She is still your girlfriend" Martin replied. "We are together, yeah, but she only likes to be fucked like a whore she is and then... sometimes,... you know, she is mad as hell and she screams at me that for my fault her life became a fucking nightmare."

Joe wasn't a smart guy, he talked nonsense as he popped the pills. "Sometimes I hurt her, but it's just to let her know I love her. Only when she threatens to leave me and report me to the police, you know Cassandra is fucking bitch."

Martin looked at him as he felt the anger rising. How could he let him go free after those words? Cassandra would come back to him and he would hurt her. Now she was sleeping at his place, but after that? After taking more pills she would go back to her boyfriend.

As Joe turned to walk back to his car, Martin's vision went red. He moved before he could think, grabbing the seat belt from his car and looping it around Joe's neck in one swift motion. Joe struggled, his hands clawing at the belt, but Martin was stronger, driven by a rage he had never felt before.

"You are beating her, right bastard?"

The two of them wrestled, Joe managing to land a few blows, but Aemond didn't feel the pain. His face was smeared with blood, but he didn't care. All he could think about was Cassandra, about the life she could have had, about the life she still could have if this monster were gone. With a final, desperate twist, Martin tightened the belt, and Joe's struggles ceased.

He killed him for her.

Panting, Martin let the body slump to the ground, his chest heaving. He looked down at Joe's lifeless form, feeling a strange sense of calm wash over him. It was done. He had done what he had to do.

The night was still dark when Martin disposed of the body, leaving no trace of what had happened. His face and clothes were stained with blood, but he didn't care.

He drove back to his apartment, the adrenaline slowly fading, replaced by a numbness that left him feeling empty.

By the time he returned, dawn was just beginning to break, casting a pale light through the windows. Martin quietly entered his room, closing the door behind him. Cassandra was awake, sitting in the center of the bed, her eyes fixed on the wall. She had noticed his records, her fingers tracing the edges of one of them absently.

When she turned to look at him, her eyes widened slightly at the sight of his face, still smeared with blood. "Martin…" she whispered, her voice filled with a mix of concern and confusion. "I still feel the pain.... I...fuck, I still feel the deep darkness in me"

"You have blood all over your face, what happened to you?" she looked at him, God, her eyes were so beautiful. Long black eyelashes, black eyeliner, they were breathtaking.

Martin walked over to her, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I did what I had to do," he said, his voice steady.

For a moment, Cassandra just stared at him, her mind processing his words. Then, without warning, she got up and moved toward him, her eyes locked on his. Her hands gently cradling his face, feeling the still fresh blood on his skin.

"Thank you" she whispered, her voice breaking. "Thank you."

Martin was about to respond when she leaned in, her lips crashing against his in a fierce, desperate kiss. The intensity of it took him by surprise, but he quickly responded, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer. "You're safe now" it was a kiss filled with all the emotions they had both been holding back—fear, anger, relief, and something more, something they had both been denying for too long.

Cassandra pushed him back onto the bed, her hands frantically tugging at his clothes, as if trying to erase everything that had happened, everything that had hurt her, with this one act. Martin didn't resist; he wanted this as much as she did, maybe even more. The world outside, the blood on his face, everything else faded away as they gave in to the passion that had been simmering beneath the surface.

Their movements were frantic, desperate, as if they were both trying to cling to something real, something pure in the midst of all the chaos. The bed creaked beneath them as they had sex.

“I need something strong” she whispered. “I need to know that I’m alive”

They leaned closer and their eyes met in another kiss. Their lips touched softly, as if they were trying to convey everything they couldn’t express in words. “I need something stronger than drugs” she murmured against his lips. Martin kissed her again, this time rougher, harder. Everything finally made sense. “I want you” Martin whispered. “I’ve always wanted you, even when you didn’t even look at me, I was there, silent among the outcasts and I watched you shine. But your darkness doesn’t scare me, share it with me.”

She leaned down to kiss his neck with languid, wet, provocative kisses and he grabbed her by the thighs, moving his hands up under her robe. "Cass" Martin groaned, looking up and meeting her eyes. He moved his hands to her dress, pulling it off her head. Cassandra began by removing his shirt, his hands tore off her tights and then moved to the elastic of her thong, hooking it around his fingers. "You are beautiful" he whispered as she raised her hips allowing him to remove her panties. Her long hair fell in front of her and she, who was not wearing a bra, destabilized him. He moved closer and slowly kissed her nipples, making her moan.

Cassandra moved her hands down to the elastic of his boxers, pulling them off along with his pants. In that moment she just wanted to forget all the pain she had felt, she wanted to let it all out, light a fire inside him.

"Make me forget" she murmured. "Make me forget" she was begging him. The girl leaned forward to kiss him, he made her lie down against the pillows of the bed and slowly got on top of her, covering her with his body. Cassandra caressed his back with her hands, making him shiver when her nails caressed his skin. "For me you exist, for me you have always existed" he whispered taking her face in his hands, he caressed her soft lips.

"You are so beautiful fuck, you are so… so… I… I have always seen you, I have always wanted you." he was desperate for her.

"You won't feel any more pain, you won't feel anything, I'll make you feel alive" he whispered, pushing himself inside her: God, she was so hot, wet, tight. He held her close, she moaned, inhaling his scent, she kissed his face still stained with blood. "I don't feel anything" Cassandra whispered. "I only feel you." she arched her back.

They moved together, faster, harder, until everything else faded away and there was nothing left but the unstoppable need to be closer, to feel more. "Tell me I'm yours" she whispered, holding him as if he could abandon her. "You're mine, you're mine, you're mine" he whispered, kissing her, pushing between her hot, wet thighs.

Cassandra, his Cassandra was lost in the most dissolute pleasure. He continued to fuck her until he felt her tremble, a sign that he was about to come.

"You are mine, you are mine, you are mine" he repeated feeling his cock buried deep inside her. "You are mine, always remember that, you are mine" "I am yours" she whispered scratching his back, Martin shivered. He gave her a stronger thrust, looked into her blue-violet eyes, she pressed herself against him and came with a loud moan.

Martin followed shortly after her, came out of her body and fell on top of her taking her in his arms and giving her a kiss on her swollen and shiny lips.

"I feel alive, I feel alive…" she whispered holding him in her arms.

Cassandra's eyes locked onto Martin's, a mixture of gratitude and something deeper reflected in her gaze. Slowly, she leaned in, her breath warm against his skin. Her lips met his with an intensity that took him by surprise, and he responded, pulling her closer, as if she were the only thing keeping him grounded.

The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more desperate. She tasted the metallic tang of blood on his lips, and instead of pulling away, she leaned in further, her tongue gently tracing the cut. She sucked softly, tasting the blood, her actions filled with a strange blend of tenderness and need.

Martin groaned, the pain of his wounded lips mingling with the pleasure of her touch. She didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate, as if in that moment, she was trying to absorb all of his pain, to take it into herself.

Their kiss was fierce, raw, and full of unspoken emotions—pain, longing, and a desire for connection that neither had known they needed so badly. The world around them faded away, leaving only the heat between them, the taste of blood and passion mingling as they lost themselves in each other.

“We should stop” Martin whispered. “No” Cassandra replied. “No one has ever killed for me.” She kissed him again and again, clearly aroused by the sight of him covered in blood. “You have me now” she whispered, grabbing his shirt and rolling onto the bed, him on top of her.

She was a fucking freak.

And he matched her perfectly. 

The morning light slowly filling the room, casting long shadows on the walls.

When it was over, they lay tangled together in the sheets, both of them breathing heavily, their bodies slick with sweat. Martin held Cassandra close, his heart still racing from everything that had happened that night. She rested her head on his chest, her fingers tracing the lines of his skin, as if trying to memorize every inch of him.

They didn't speak; there was nothing left to say. In that moment, they both understood each other perfectly. The world outside might still be cruel and unforgiving, but for now, they had found something that could make it all bearable.

And as the first rays of the morning sun filtered through the window, Martin closed his eyes, holding Cassandra close. 

"Come away with me and sal 

i promise you’ll be in it 

i don’t feel bad 

i feel alive in the city 

you despise 

wait for the day, when you come riding on by 

seems so hard just to be 

if it matters 

you complete me, yeah 

in the modern world"

[chuunai]

Hi hi! Would love to participate in your event if that’s cool

I was wondering if we could hav a Fyodor with scenario 2 and prompt 14

Idk if you want more details but I discovered your blog and I kinda got baby fever too sooooooo

Fire away friend

I’m sorry for making you sick : (

✧˚ · . my days are yours, yours - fyodor dostoevsky

how can a baby control his heart?

summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff, established relationship (marriage with reader), babies, babies and babies, SFW → minor mentions of death and overall fyodor trying to be a daddy while juggling killing the entire world. Spoilers for the last episode of BSD season five and the latest chapters of the manga.

Lord, she looked so much like him.

Rounded purple eyes and thick strands of black hair, she was his copy. Of course, genetically speaking, she was half his. And half yours. But Fyodor had a greater influence on your baby daughter. A squirming seven month old named Avdotya Fyodorovna Dostoevskya. Ironic, wasn’t it? That his child’s name meant good while he was evil?

It made sense, though. Yin and yang.

Putting down his pen, Fyodor looked over at the small makeshift crib that was next to his desk. In it was the sleeping Avdotya—Dunya, for short—wrapped up in cozy blankets and stuffed animals.

He’d worked enough for today.

Carefully picking up the newborn, his pale anemic hands cradled her, supporting her head as he held her to his chest. His heart sped up a bit when Dunya stirred a bit, but she ultimately didn’t wake up. She looked so calm and content in the moment. Fyodor shared the same feelings. Besides awe, of course.

For all of his planning and manipulation, he had never planned for a baby.

Sure, you were his wife, but he’d always use protection. An infant wouldn’t work with his current dangerous plans. Yet he somehow managed to knock you up. A completely unplanned variable in his plans. Yet it seemed so right. As a man of god, Fyodor couldn’t deny the blessing that God gave him.

His study door soon freaked open by your arrival as you quietly walked behind him, arms sliding around his neck in a tired way as your cheek pressed against the fluffy material of his ushanka.

“She’s doing okay?”

As if his little angel would ever be harmed.

“Of course, дорогой.”

He replied in an equally hushed tone. He turned his head slightly to the left, placing a gentle peck on your arm affectionately. For someone who regularly manipulated people who trusted him (albeit in a scared way), he could never find himself using you or his newfound family for his plans. God would disapprove of a man who hurt his family.

“You should rest. I’ll watch over her.”

It was only fair.

You had been watching Dunya constantly—babysitters and nannies couldn’t be hired due to his prolific crime record—while he was gone setting up his plans and relations. Fyodor had seen you cry over the stress multiple times. Each time he reassured you all would be better in due time. And it would be. When all the sinners of the world were gone, angels like you and Avdotya would be safe.

In the meantime though, he’d make you as happy as he could.

Feeling a gentle kiss on his cheek, Fyodor faintly smiled as you left for some much needed relaxation and sleep. Tucking his baby’s hair behind her tiny ears, he hummed a small lullaby.

He remembered that as a child his mother would sing some to him. It was one of the few comforting memories he had.

And his Avdotya should have the same experience.

Reaching the second verse of the lullaby, his deep voice quietly filled the room. He slowly rocked his baby, warmth flooding through his usually cold body. A peck on her perfect head.

He’d have to teach you these sorts of lullabies and cradle songs. While you knew a bit of Russian—limited to affectionate nicknames and general greetings—, you could do better. Perhaps you two could study together when Avdotya would nap. Him struggling with kanji, and you resting your head on his shoulder as you stared at Russian characters and committed them to memory.

Fyodor relaxed back into his chair, content with the familial moment.

The finale soon came.

He sat there for minutes afterwards, just taking in the sight of the life he created. Dazai was wrong. Fyodor was no demon, no, he was a god. He had created life, and so had God. And while others may point out the billions of other parents in the world, he’d merely dismiss their claims. They had birthed normal children.

Not an angel like his Dunya.

Could other children have such awe-inspiring eyes? Or the affinity she had for music just like her father—how she babbled and cooed in your lap while he played cello for the two of you. He knew she’d grow up to be something great like him. A firstborn always took after their father, in his opinion.

Standing up with little Avdotya in his arms, he walked to the nursery, passing by your shared bedroom where you were sleeping by now. Creaking open the door, he carefully navigated the dark room, lowering his daughter into her crib before carefully covering her with a warm blanket and her favorite stuffed toy.

A fuzzy penguin gifted by Sigma.

A lot of the nursery’s decorations were bought by Fyodor, but there were a few given by his fellow DOA members. Sadly, a majority of Nikolai’s gifts had to be scrapped. Dunya couldn’t use clown makeup or the miniature cherry bombs. A pity, really.

Fatherhood suited Fyodor rather well.

Flicking on a small nightlight, he soon left after a goodbye to his daughter. His footsteps pattered on the wooden floor, making his way to your bedroom to finally sleep off the day’s events.

Once again, the door slowly creaked open as he walked in. He already had his pajamas on—a baggy long black shirt and some black pants—, sliding into bed next to you as one hand found itself on your stomach, the other already playing with your hair. Fyodor admired your body. It grew his angel, and now it nourished her.

While you were adamant that you looked worse after birth, he could only say the opposite. All of the Renaissance paintings and sculptures had been wrong in their depictions of goddesses and heavenly figures. He could only see you as a true goddess who fell for a sinner like him.

Would such a goddess permit him to have another child with her?

Fyodor had grown up in a small family back in St. Petersburg. Just him and his mother. His father had left him long ago.

He didn’t want Avdotya to feel the same. Lonely.

Siblings would prevent that. Maybe two? Even three, if you felt up for it. He hadn’t said anything about it since you were still recovering and getting used to being a mother just to one child, but he oh so badly wanted a bigger family. More look a-likes of him and you.

“My goddess.”

His lips nuzzled against your hair, murmuring sweet affections and praise. Even he couldn’t have predicted such a thing like this. A wife. A daughter. A family of his own.

And even when weeks later he was stuck in Meursault with four other men playing Nikolai’s twisted game of escape, he thought about you. The plan would work, and he’d see you again after he faked his death. Sure, it might take weeks or months, but he’d come back. He’d made sure of it—having thought of the betrayal of his subordinates a while ago.

And when Dazai would later tug his severed arm out of the helicopter’s crash site, it wouldn’t have a ring on the ring finger.

That ring would be snugly set on his other hand.

They could take his body, his wealth, his intelligence.

But they couldn’t take him away from you and the vow you two had made. Until death do you part.

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @sinfulthoughtsposts, @xxcandlelightxx

Help this took so long

[sim0nril3y]

Babyy can write a Ghost with praise kink?? the man wants to receive compliments yk, maybe the reader teasing him during the day, without realizing

Note: ooooh, you are sooooooo right he would totally have a praise kink and Simon deserves to be praised! Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), established relationship, teasing, praise kink, handjob (m receiving), canon-typical swearing.

There was something peculiar that you had noticed recently. It was exceptionally subtle, almost so subtle that you could have easily missed it or convince yourself that you were imagining things, but there were little moments, little times when you would say something and Simon would blush. It was almost outrageous to think about, but you think these little moments would come whenever you complimented him, either over something rather mundane or something a little more risqué.

This was when you began to think… maybe Simon liked compliments, though he would never say those words aloud. Then another thing hit you Simon loved doing things for you, adoring to being able to make you smile and make your life easier. Maybe subconsciously he was trying to get compliments, maybe secretly he liked being praised… then your mind went further into a sinful little hole, maybe he had a praise kink, very secretly, way deep down so far that even he didn’t realise it.

This was a theory you would need to test…

Like the blushing, you would be subtle at first too. In the morning, he would place your favourite mug that contained of warm milky tea in front of you on the coffee table, you’d accept it into your hands and sip on it. A low hum would fall from your lips, looking towards him with a comforting smile. “You make the best tea, Simon~” You coo with a delicate smile and then take another sip.

Casually you flit your gaze towards him and there it was… his cheeks warmed, going that soft pink colour before he would quip back. “Y’only say that so I keep making teas for you…” As quick as the pinkness was there it was gone and you followed with a little shrug. You were in for real trouble if he knew the real reason that you were complimenting him on his tea making. “Maybe~” You retorted with ease and then settled back into the sofa happily.

That evening you were hungrily eating the food that he had prepared, glancing across at him as he drank back his wine and then you mewled softly. “Wow… I swear, no one fills me up like you do.” It seemed like he gulped a little too hard, having to clear his throat and giving you a challenging gaze. “I mean, with food…” Then hungrily taking another bite, making sure to look Simon in the eye as you chewed happily. “You’re the best bloody chef around.”

“Not a chef.” He reminded you then, hand moving suspiciously beneath the table, between his legs, almost as if he was adjusting himself. “Could’ve fooled me.” You replied, taking another bite then and humming again. “I’ve never had chicken this juicy before…” Then moaning, his cheeks were beat red and he cleared his throat, hand remaining under the table as he took another large gulp of wine. “That’s because you burn everything.” Simon responded attempting to keep his voice even.

A giggle shot from your lips as you shrugged. “Maybe…”

There were times when Simon wouldn’t want to head out of the house to go to the gym, he had a set of weights he kept in the bedroom, neatly tucked away and sometimes when he felt like he needed it he’d get them out and do some bicep curls before bed. Perched on the bed you hummed lowly, admiring the way that his thick muscle strained with each curl. “Your arms are so fucking big…”

Without his shirt on it was easy to see the way the blush began to crawl up his throat, sat away from you on the edge of the bed and trying to ignore you and muttering his count under his breath. “You’re just so dedicated to your body…” You whisper, crawling over to be knelt behind him, ghosting your hands over his arms and up to his shoulders, daintily stroking his skin. “My big, handsome man~” You whisper into his ear causing him to mutter out a gently. “Fuckin’ hell…”

You giggled as your lips found his throat, pressing gentle kisses to the flesh as you knelt behind him. By now Simon had ceased his curls, allowing the weight to touch the ground away from causing any harm as he leant back a little into your touch. Your hands slipped under his arms and caressed his taut stomach muscles, humming as you nipped at his shoulder and then kissed the area soothingly. “You take care of me so fucking well…” You whisper into his ear, nipping the lobe. “Are you going to let me take care of you now, Si?”

“Fuck… yes…” Simon breathed, leaning his head back into your shoulder. “Good.” You whispered, in a sinful moment spitting into your hand and then sliding it into his sweats and clasping your hand around his painfully hard erection. “You’re so fuckin’ hard…” Beginning to slowly massage your hand up and down his length. “So fuckin’ big too…” You whisper into Simon’s ear, making sure he heard. “So big… so big I didn’t think you’d fit into my pussy at first.”

A low groan pulled from his throat. “I’d have made it fit…” He grumbled lowly and you giggled breathlessly. “I know you would have… God, you always make me feel so good, Simon. I wanna make you feel good now. I wanna make you cum, baby.” You whimper at him as he hisses arching gently against you. “That’s it…” You affirm gently. “Just give yourself to me.” You nip at his earlobe again, naughtily suckling a mark onto his throat. “Everyone is gonna know what you’ve been up to, naughty boy~” You giggled, kissing the mark over and over.

“Don’t care. Don’t fuckin’ care.” Simon let out a low groan. “Don’t care… cause they’ll know… know you gave it to me…” He choked out a moan and you almost beamed in happiness. “That’s right… they’ll know that you’re mine and I’m yours.” Nuzzling into his throat, cock pulled from his sweats now to jerk at a faster pace, those dark eyes stayed wholly focused on your hand working him expertly. “Look at you…” You whimpered at him. “So fuckin’ huge… lookin’ like you’re gonna burst…”

A second later his head tilted back, a short groan pulling him his throat as he shot his load up his stomach and chest. Languidly you jerked him until his moans began breathy and pained, only then stopping and holding him in your warm hand. “You did so well…” You breathed into his ear, giggling gently and then adding. “Thank you~”

Masterlist | Ask | 04-12-2023

[sukunasucker]

i was originally yuutasucker.. gotta put some credit on my boys name

yuuta (maybe (def) rika too ? aged up and grown w yuuta obvi) x STRONG, and dom!fem reader

if yall ever catch me writing a character as dominate or the reader as submissive SHOOT ME. SHOOT ME.

ugh. hes such a pretty boy.

yuuta knows, deep down inside, that you like him

and, just looking at him like a regular boy, its only natural he denies how he and you feel, chalking it up to normal friendship things

yes, when maki is a bit dominate during sparring, it awakes something deep inside of him that he's been hiding since rika

but when you completely FLOOR him, insulting him, teasing him during training, he gets sooooooo worked up, a part of him wanting to prove you wrong and have you pinned against the ground, but a part of him trying to stop all the blood in his body from immediately rushing down there when you ineveibitly pin him down.

he'll never use his full strength while sparring you, as he subconsciously PRAYS you'll have him on his knees under you, he PRAYS, someday youll make it more than it is, and make him submit to you right there and then, even if gojo, and the rest of the students are watching. it would honestly turn him on more if everyone knew how much you made him feel, and saw him committing such sinful acts against your body as a desperate release.

and when you add rika, it just gets so more messy. shes always been dominate over him, proposing herself, even as a young girl, and staying with him forever, being jealous, keeping him to herself.

she already had a FIT when yuuta experienced maki and all her control over him, but when she and yuuta met you, someone who could truly offer a REAL fight against her, things just got SO messy

yuuta already felt such complicated feelings for you, wanting you to always be over him, and in control of him, and then rika, basically the other half, piece, of his soul, was making comments ALWAYS..

she was the voice in his head, commenting on how, she didnt mind you hurting him a bit, since you were just that pretty of a girl.

when he'd get flustered over your casual dominance, leading him through the missions, a hand on his shoulder or waist, telling him what to do and where to go

usually, rika would freak out, but in his head, he just heard her giggle, and comment how she'd let you do the same thing to her

eventually, he started desperately fucking his fist, thinking of your hands all over him, threatening to harm him, but really playing easy, just how you did during all those training sessions, jerking him off, so soft, making him feel all the pleasure he oh so desperately needed.

and whats even worse, rika would whisper in his ear, how youd call him pathetic, a cry baby, she just egged him on, as in all honesty she wanted to see you take control over not just yuuta, but both of them

hes so fucking whipped. so much even rika is on board. thats the effect youve had on these poor people.

[rispwr]

Hate you - chapter 2 - J.JK

Pairings : ex! Jungkook x ex! Reader

Notes : didn't get to do my word goal again:(( omg it's hard writing long chapters. thank you all so much for reading this story!!! please play mr perfectly fine by taylor for thiss

Genre : Ex2L, angst, slow burn, fake dating, slice of life, fluff, e2l, corporate rivals, smau, smut

Sypnosis : ‘You were always told that hating someone is the only way it doesn’t hurt but what if you can’t hate him? No matter how hard you try your heart will always find it’s way to his’

2 years after breaking up with your boyfriend of 2 years you were finally on your way to become the ceo of your family’s company your rival turns out to be your ex.

Contents/warnings :

Misunderstood break up, insecurities, mentions of self harms or mental health issues, jk is mean at the start, yelling, sensitive language or words, mentions of family trauma, corporate au, smart (both), mentions of yoongi x oc, mentions of cheating, soon to be ceo! Jk, soon to be ceo! Oc, oc is still named Y/n or {__}, corporate rivals?, fake dating, lack of communication, death of a character, mentions of suicide attempt. not proofread

NSFW contents : a peck?

series masterlist

Need a break and a change

Seven months. It had been seven months without Jungkook, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you could say with a degree of confidence that you were starting to move on. Or so you thought. The days no longer felt as heavy, and the nights didn’t drag on as painfully as before. You’d started therapy, and although at first, you were skeptical, it seemed to help—at least, it gave you something to look forward to, even if most of your sessions felt like venting to a paid story listener.

What did you talk about? Everything. The breakup, the pain, the endless nights replaying memories of him. The therapist always tried to reassure you, reminding you that there were plenty of other guys out there, which you were very much aware of. But no matter how many times you heard it, it didn’t make the ache go away. You told yourself that Jungkook probably moved on by now. 

Maybe he was with someone else, 

someone new, 

someone better. 

Maybe he never loved you, 

maybe you were just another chapter in his story. 

Or maybe he did love you but didn’t know how to show it the right way.

Regardless, deep down, you knew one thing for certain: if Jungkook texted you right now, asking for a second chance, you wouldn’t hesitate. You’d go running back to him, even if you told yourself you wouldn’t. Even if you wanted to believe you were stronger than that.

It wasn’t easy admitting this to yourself, but you were trying. Every day, you made an effort to rebuild your life piece by piece. Namjoon and Sana, your constants, had been encouraging you for weeks to step outside your comfort zone. They’d been incredibly patient with you, but tonight, they weren’t taking no for an answer.

“Come on, Y/N,” Namjoon urged over the phone. His voice carried a mix of persuasion and excitement. “You’ve been hiding away for too long. Let’s just go out, have some fun, and forget about everything for a while.”

Sana chimed in from the background, her voice equally determined. “We’re not taking no for an answer! You need this. Trust us.”

After a long pause, you finally sighed in defeat. “Fine,” you said, your voice laced with mock reluctance. “I’ll go.”

Namjoon let out a triumphant cheer. “That’s the spirit! We’ll pick you up at eight.”

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, contemplating your decision. Maybe this could be good for you. Maybe you’d find someone new, someone who could make you forget about the lingering ghost of Jungkook. You knew it was a long shot, but you were willing to try.

at the club

“Babesss! You. Are. Sooooooo. Hot!!!” Sana practically screamed over the music, her eyes wide with admiration. She gave you a playful smack on the arm, her excitement infectious.

Namjoon, ever the protective one, gave you a once-over with a raised brow. “Don’t you think the dress is a little… over-revealing?” he asked, voice tinged with concern.

You smirked, ready to tease him. “Oh, quit being a dad, Namjoon. Unless…” you paused dramatically, leaning in with a mischievous glint in your eye. “Unless you’ve got a daddy kink?”

Namjoon’s face turned bright red almost instantly. “I DO NOT!” he fired back, his voice cracking slightly.

Sana, ever the chaos queen, burst out laughing. “Ohhh, Namdaddyyyy!” she joined in, dragging out the word and winking at him. Namjoon groaned, hiding his face in his hands as his ears burned.

“Alright, alright,” you said between laughs, deciding to give him a break. “I’ll get us some drinks. Try not to corrupt Namjoon too much while I’m gone.”

Sana gave you a mock salute. “No promises!” she shouted as you made your way to the bar.

“Uh… a vodka tonic, please,” you said, pausing for a moment to glance back toward your friends. “And a gin and tonic, plus a whiskey sour,” you added. The bartender nodded, swiftly preparing your order.

As you waited, a presence sidled up beside you—a man, tall and composed, dressed in a tailored suit that screamed sophistication. His dark hair was neatly styled, and a pair of sleek glasses rested on his nose. He looked older, but not in a way that felt unapproachable. No, he was HOT old. The kind of man who exuded confidence and charm effortlessly.

“Can I buy you a drink?” His voice was smooth, with a hint of playfulness.

You blinked, taken slightly off guard. Pointing to yourself, you asked, “Uh, me? You talking to me?”

He chuckled softly, a gummy smile breaking across his face. “Yes, you, silly,” he replied, his tone light and teasing.

You felt a slight warmth rise to your cheeks, but you managed to keep your composure. “Oh, sure. Of course,” you said, flashing him a small smile.

“What’s your name?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, his curiosity evident.

“Oh, um… Y/N. Kim Y/N,” you replied, your smile widening just a bit as you introduced yourself.

His eyes lit up with recognition. “Kim Y/N, as in the Kims?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint of intrigue.

You tilted your head in confusion, not entirely sure what he was getting at. “Uh… what do you mean?”

“RNT Inc.?” he clarified, his expression softening into a knowing smile. “Rhythm and Tune Incorporation. Your family’s company, right?”

Your posture straightened slightly, the familiar pang of recognition hitting you. “Oh… yeah. ” you said, your hand coming up to scratch the back of your neck in an awkward gesture.

“Impressive,” he said, his tone genuinely appreciative. “Cool. I’m Min Yoongi,” he added, extending a hand.

The name rang a faint bell in your mind, but it wasn’t until he added, “COO of Min Entertainment,” that everything clicked.

“Ohhh,” you said, your voice lilting with interest. “That’s cool.” You took his hand, shaking it firmly but warmly, offering him a genuine smile. “Nice to meet you.”

He returned the smile, his gaze steady and unwavering. “Likewise. So,” he began, leaning just a bit closer, “can I get your number? Maybe we could be friends... ”

The offer caught you slightly off guard, but you found yourself nodding. “Sure,” you said, glancing down, realizing you didn’t have your phone on you. “Oh, wait—sorry. I don’t have my phone right now,” you admitted with a small laugh.

He chuckled, unbothered. “No problem.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his own phone and handed it to you.

You took it, fingers hovering over the screen for a moment before you keyed in your number. “There,” you said, handing it back to him.

Yoongi nodded, pocketing his phone. “You got it. I’ll reach out soon.”

You offered a small wave. “Alright, see you around, maybe?”

“Definitely,” he replied, his smile lingering as he turned back toward the crowd.

You grabbed the drinks, balancing them carefully as you made your way back to your table. Sana and Namjoon were deep in conversation, but their heads snapped up when they saw you approaching.

“Finally!” Sana exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. “What took you so long?”

“Sorry,” you said, placing the drinks on the table. “Met someone at the bar.”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow. “Met someone?”

You smirked, sliding into your seat. “Yeah. Min Yoongi. You know him?”

Sana nearly spat out her drink. “Min Yoongi? As in MCI Entertainment Min Yoongi?”

“Yep,” you said, sipping your drink casually. “He’s.... cool.”

Namjoon exchanged a look with Sana. “Cool? he's one of the hottest executives of that company girl.”

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “He just asked for my number.”

Sana gasped, grabbing your arm. “And you gave it to him, right?”

“Obviously.”

It had been a year since Jungkook. One long year of piecing yourself back together, learning to stand on your own again. Therapy sessions had helped, though you often questioned their worth. For what? For these paid story listeners to remind you there are still plenty of men out there? As if you didn’t already know. Still, despite the frustration, you knew healing wasn’t linear.

And then there was Yoongi.

You’d met him seven months ago—an unexpected encounter that had slowly turned into something... comforting. Yoongi was patient, understanding, and most importantly, he wasn’t rushing you into anything. He knew your heart wasn’t ready, and he respected that.

So when he called one day, asking for a favor, you weren’t entirely surprised.

"Hey," Yoongi's voice was soft but laced with urgency. "I know this is sudden, but would you consider being my date to the gala tomorrow? My usual partner bailed."

A long pause filled the line as you considered. You hadn’t been to any high-profile event since before Jungkook, and the thought of stepping back into that world felt overwhelming. But the sincerity in Yoongi’s voice gave you courage.

"Are you sure?" you asked, voice laced with hesitation. "I don’t want to cramp your style."

"I’m positive," Yoongi assured, his tone warm. "You’ll be great. And honestly, I’d feel more comfortable with you there."

You sighed, a small smile creeping onto your lips. "Alright. It’s been a while since I’ve attended a gala, but why not?"

"Perfect," he said, relief evident. "I’ll send over some dress options tonight. Thank you, Y/N."

The call ended, and you felt a mixture of excitement and nerves.

Before the Gala

As promised, Yoongi called, his deep voice filling the quiet of your apartment. "I’m on my way. I’ll pick you up in a few."

You quickly hummed in response, glancing at your reflection one last time. Your stylist had done an incredible job—your makeup was flawless, and your hair fell in soft waves.

"Alright, Ms. Y/N, you're all set," your stylist said with a proud smile. Just as she finished, a knock came at the door.

"Ms. Y/N, your date is waiting in the lounge," the assistant informed you.

Taking a deep breath, you thanked your stylist and made your way out. As you entered the lounge, your eyes immediately found Yoongi. He stood there in a perfectly tailored black suit, adjusting his cufflinks. His dark hair was styled neatly, and the moment he saw you, his eyes softened.

"Wow," he breathed out, his gaze trailing over you.

"What?" you asked with a small laugh, feeling your cheeks heat.

He stepped closer, offering you his hand. "I’m so lucky to have you by my side tonight."

Your heart fluttered at his words. You placed your hand in his, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. "Shall we?" he asked.

"Of course," you replied, letting him lead you out.

At the Gala

The night had barely started, but you were already reminded why you had avoided events like this for so long.

As soon as you and Yoongi stepped out of the sleek black car, camera flashes erupted around you like a relentless storm. Paparazzi swarmed, their voices loud and persistent.

"Yoongi, is she your girlfriend?" "Ms. Kim, how do you feel about breaking up with Jeon Jungkook?" "Is this the start of a new power couple?" "Are you two together?"

The barrage of questions felt suffocating. You clutched Yoongi’s arm tighter, grateful for his calm demeanor as he guided you inside. He didn’t respond to the questions, instead keeping his focus on you, shielding you from the chaos.

Once inside, the lavish setting did little to ease your nerves. The grand ballroom was filled with influential figures, CEOs, artists, and politicians. You and Yoongi found your seats at a table among other high-profile individuals. The conversation flowed easily, but your mind wandered as you sipped your martini.

Your eyes caught on a figure across the room. A tall, broad-shouldered man with familiar brown hair. His back was to you, but you knew that stance anywhere.

Jungkook.

He turned slightly, his hand intertwined with a woman’s. His signature smile, the one you once knew so well, was directed at her. They seemed happy, lost in their own world.

Your heart clenched involuntarily.

Before he could notice you, you leaned closer to Yoongi and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. He froze for a moment, eyes widening slightly, then turned to you with a flustered smile.

"Are you alright, pretty?" Yoongi asked, his voice gentle but concerned.

You glanced back across the room. Jungkook was gone. You exhaled, trying to steady your breathing. "Mhmm," you murmured. "Just... tipsy, that’s all."

Yoongi didn’t look convinced. "Wanna head back?" he offered, leaning closer.

"We just got here, Yoonzz," you whined lightly, managing a small smile.

He chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Alright. But if you want to go home at any point, just say the word, okay?"

You nodded, grateful for his patience. "I will. Promise."

Still, the question lingered in your mind: Who was she?

You didn’t think Yoongi would stay. Not after everything you’d been through, after all the baggage you carried with you. Yet, here he was—a constant presence in your life, steady and unwavering. A year had passed with him by your side, and while the wounds Jungkook left behind hadn’t fully healed, Yoongi had somehow made the pain more bearable.

You told yourself you liked Yoongi. It wasn’t hard to do; he was thoughtful, kind, and endlessly patient. He had seen you at your lowest and never once flinched. He took you to therapy sessions when you couldn’t face them alone, drove you to Jeju Island for peaceful getaways, and showed you places you love.

But deep down, you knew the truth. If someone were to ask, Do you still love Jungkook? the answer would come without hesitation. Yes. No matter how much time passed, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, a part of your heart still belonged to him.

And yet, Yoongi was different. He was like an angel, falling into your life at a time when you thought you didn’t deserve someone like him. His love wasn’t loud or overwhelming; it was quiet, tender, and constant, like a soft breeze on a summer day. He didn’t try to replace Jungkook; he simply stayed, filling the empty spaces with his warmth.

Sometimes, when you looked at him, you wondered what he saw in you. Why he chose to stay when he could’ve easily walked away. But Yoongi never asked for more than you could give. He understood your hesitation, your lingering feelings, and still, he chose you.

And for that, you were grateful. you were always grateful

It was an unusually quiet morning when your mom called you. Her voice was calm, but there was a weight to it, a seriousness that immediately made your stomach twist. “Y/N, we’re having a family meeting later today. Please don’t be late,” she said, then hung up before you could ask any questions.

When you arrived at the family estate, the large, ornate doors of the meeting room loomed before you. This room had witnessed countless important decisions over the years, and now it was your turn to step inside. As you pushed open the heavy doors, you were greeted by the sight of your family seated around the grand oak table. Your mom was at the head, her presence commanding as always.

Your cousins were there, whispering amongst themselves, their sharp features and expensive suits a reminder of the high expectations within your family.  there was Jin, your cousin, sitting calmly, his hands clasped on the table.

You took a seat, trying to ignore the growing anxiety clawing at your chest.

Once everyone had settled, Jennie, your sister, stood up. Her poise and elegance were undeniable; she was the embodiment of what everyone expected in the next CEO. The company had been preparing her for this role for years. So, what she said next completely blindsided you.

“Y/N, everyone,” Jennie began, her tone even but resolute. “I’ve decided to step down from becoming the CEO of our family company.”

The room fell silent. You could hear the faint ticking of the antique clock on the wall. You blinked, sure you’d misheard. “What?” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Your eyes widened, heart skipping a beat. “What are you talking about?” you blurted out, not even bothering to hide your shock. Jennie was the golden child of the family, groomed for this role since the day she could walk. 

Jennie leaned back in her chair, a calm but determined expression on her face. “I’ve thought long and hard about this,” she said. “I realized I didn't want it anymore. I want to be a model and start my own company without needing moms or dads help. I'm done handling all the pressure. It's better off with it being you, y/n”

The words hit you like a freight train. “Jennie, I—” You stumbled over your words, your mind racing. “I don’t know… I don’t think I can do it.”

Your mom, seated at the head of the table, leaned forward, her eyes filled with warmth and understanding. “Honey, it’s for the best,” she said softly, her voice laced with encouragement. “You’re capable, and we all believe in you.”

You glanced over at Jin, hoping for some kind of lifeline. He was always the voice of reason, the one who could find a way out of any situation. “Jin…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

 “Y/N, everyone would kill for that position” he said. “ you shouldn't waste an opportunity that big”

“But Jin, I majored in literature,” you protested, your voice cracking. “I don’t know anything about running a company. I’ll fail, and I’ll bring the whole company down with me.”

Your mom reached out, taking your hand in hers. “You won’t fail, sweetheart. You have a natural talent for leadership, and with the right guidance, you’ll thrive,” she said. “How about this? I’ll personally mentor you. We’ll set up a comprehensive training program, and by the end of the year... december, you can decide whether or not this is the path you want to take.”

You hesitated, the weight of her words settling over you. Could you really do this? Could you step into a role that had seemed so far removed from your reality, from your dreams? But then you thought about your family, about the legacy they’d built and the trust they were placing in you.

“Alright,” you finally said, your voice steady but your heart pounding. “I’ll give it a try.”

The room erupted in supportive smiles and nods. Your mom squeezed your hand, and Jin gave you an approving nod. Even Jennie looked relieved, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

“Good,” your mom said, her voice filled with pride. “We’ll start your training tomorrow.”

"I can't believe this," you muttered under your breath, rolling your eyes in annoyance. You felt suffocated by the weight of it all

You walked out of the meeting room, your mind a mix of confusion, anger, and frustration. Everything had been thrown at you all at once, and now you were expected to just take it and be okay with it.

 As you walked down the hallway, hoping to get a moment of peace, you were met with jin, your cousin.

He was leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed, looking like he had all the time in the world. "You know, this position was my dream," he said, scoffing as he eyed you. "But look at me now. I’m just a CMO," he added, chuckling bitterly.

You stopped in your tracks, an eyebrow raised. "What are you trying to say, Jin?" you asked, already sensing the underlying tone in his words.

He gave you a knowing look. "Everyone would die for the position you were offered, Y/N," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But here you are, acting like it's some huge burden. You're being handed the keys to the kingdom, and you're just going to throw it away."

You couldn’t help but feel your frustration rise. "I don’t want this, Seokjin. You think I can just take over and magically become CEO? I’m a writer! I know how to make books, not run a multimillion-dollar company!" you fired back, your voice steady but sharp.

Jin rolled his eyes at your response. "You always have an excuse. You’re just making it harder for yourself." He scoffed again, his tone dismissive. "Can you stop being the shadow of the family for once? It’s honestly embarrassing. Everyone is waiting for you to step up, but you keep hiding behind your little books and stories."

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a brief moment, your heart tightened. "I don’t want to ruin the family’s reputation," you said, your voice faltering for just a moment. "I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to run a company. What if I mess up? What if I fail and get everything bankrupt?"

Jin's expression hardened, and his voice turned cold. "That’s why Auntie is giving you training, right?" he said with a sneer. "But let’s be real. You’re just delaying the inevitable. You’re not cut out for this. Maybe that’s why Jungkook dumped you," he added, his words slicing through the air. "He knew you didn’t value the wealth and power you were given."

You froze, your mind momentarily going blank. The words stung more than you cared to admit. "What?" Your voice was quiet, but there was a dangerous edge to it.

Jin shrugged, walking past you with a smirk on his face. "You heard me," he muttered under his breath as his shoulder brushed against yours.

The anger inside you flared up, but you couldn’t find the words to express it. You stood there, staring after him, your heart pounding in your chest. The weight of his words seemed to settle into your bones, and for the first time in a long time, you felt small.

It wasn’t about the company, or the position, or even your family’s expectations. It was about the things you’d never said out loud—the guilt, the fear, the uncertainty. Was he right? Were you failing the family, failing yourself? Were you not cut out for any of this?

You stood there for a moment longer, the sound of Jin’s footsteps fading away as the hallway grew eerily silent. All you wanted to do was scream, but instead, you stood still, a single tear slipping down your cheek, before quickly wiping it away.

taglist : @crazyovayou @minghaosimp @pitchblack0309 @kpopsmutty69 @junecat18 @primadonnasdream @minimoniminimoni @7lilacpetals @vonvi-blog @jk97bam @kissyfacekoo @baechugff @chuberry22 @nerdycheol @etaernaluv @kooloveys

[libby-for-life]

-lean in…-Psst! Psst!!

Sooooooo… I found this little ask box here… so… I was wondering, if ya had the time… maybe something like Adam wanting to run around in hell in his full dragon form without Sera bugging him. And maybe…he finds a pretty little red dragon on one of these days out. At first he’s trying to shake it off, since dragons were something Lucifer made but heaven disapproved of. -Lucifer and Adam would gossip and whine about the all the cool stuff that didn’t make it into the garden- Taking this as a dumb animal. But is persuaded/ bullied into playing with it. Having no idea it’s Lucifer just wanting to play with his friend again. -Lucifer tries not to speak during this time-

Hehehehehehe. I like this! @inubaki

Adam let out a heavy, exasperated sigh as he wearily rested his cheek on the palm of his hand. The lush Heaven sunlight filtered through the window, casting long, meandering shadows across the conference room table. The meeting had stretched on for what felt like an eternity, and yet, they seemed no closer to reaching any sort of consensus. Frustration simmered beneath the surface as everyone continued to talk in circles, their words blending in a sea of indecision. Adam couldn't shake off the overwhelming sense of boredom and restlessness that hung heavily in the air. Another sigh escaped his lips as he longed for this seemingly never-ending cycle of discussion to come to an end.

Adam felt a deep and unmistakable yearning that seemed to arise from the depths of his aging soul - an insatiable longing to stretch out and unleash his wings. However, these wings were not the ethereal golden and benevolent ones that he effortlessly took flight with. They were the formidable and awe-inspiring dragon wings that had been strictly forbidden by Sera ever since his arrival. Upon his initial appearance in the celestial realm of Heaven, his angelic form was a dragon, an unexpected and striking transformation that had unsettled Sera and the entire host of angels.

Sera had taken Adam aside before anyone could take a good look at him. He was dragged to a secluded room and Adam sat, or tried to since his form was massive, through the Seraphim's explanation of how his holy form was inherently evil. "Lucifer had the idea of dragons. We mustn't let anyone know of this form you came here with. It will cause a panic, Adam. Heaven can't ever know."

Adam was filled with a sense of dread as a horrible feeling began to creep in. The realization that his own angelic form could be considered evil filled him with frustration and confusion. He couldn't understand how this could be possible, especially since he had been taught that angelic forms were meant to be perfect. His mounting frustration was further compounded by the presence of Lucifer, who seemed to be once again casting a shadow over his existence. "But...I didn't do anything wrong. You've told me that angelic forms are perfect. So why—" Adam's protest was abruptly cut off as the Seraphim fixed him with a stern glare. "Adam," the Seraphim said sharply, "Are you questioning Heaven itself?"

Adam's face drained of color as the Seraphim appeared to tower over him, her imposing figure casting a chilling shadow over him despite Adam being a massive dragon. "No, Sera! I swear, I don't want to be evil..." he stammered, his voice wavering with fear. Sera tilted her head, studying him intently before straightening up with an air of authority. "It may be due to something you did in your life on Earth. Remember, Heaven's judgment is always just. Keep that in mind."

Adam nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his celestial secret. Later, Sera had taught him to conceal his dragon form and assume a more mundane guise that adhered to Heaven's expectations. However, deep within, his divine essence longed for the unfettered liberation of spreading his radiant wings and soaring through the boundless sky, embracing his true nature without inhibition. Unable to suppress this longing any longer, Adam seized an opportune moment and stealthily ventured into the realm of Hell, seeking an escape from the constraints of his heavenly facade.

Adam had been doing that for years now. He would sneak into Hell to stretch his true form out before returning to Heaven to hide his angelic form away to something less jarring. So far, no one has figured out what he has been doing. Now, if only he could get out of this horrible meeting.

An hour later, Adam's chance to leave presented itself. The lengthy meeting finally came to a close, and with its end, everyone scattered to attend to their respective tasks. Audible relief escaped Adam as he groaned, "Finally..." He wearily rose from his seat and exited the room. No one called out to detain him. Exhausted, Adam made his way back to his modest apartment, collapsing onto his couch upon arrival and taking off his helmet. He found solace in the comfort of finally being able to leave the demands of the day behind.

As soon as Adam had thought about where he would be in Hell he would go, the Wrath ring seemed particularly good this time of year near the Fall, and portal there. He decided on a forest that he liked and had already become familiar with it.

He lazily opened a portal and stepped through, quickly shutting it so no one would see the angelic light. Honestly, Adam wasn't too worried. He picked this forest because it was in the middle of nowhere. All the freedom he could want. Smiling, he let his true angelic form out, and he soon was a large gold dragon with viscous-looking teeth. Bits of earthy tones were mixed into his scales.

Adam spread his powerful wings and took to the skies. The wind rushed beneath him, lifting him higher as he soared above the forest canopy. Below, the trees danced in the gentle breeze, their red leaves whispering secrets of the demon creatures below. Adam loved this feeling of freedom, the exhilaration of flight as he surveyed Hell's domain.

As he glided through the air, a flicker of movement caught his eye. Curious, Adam descended toward the source—a medium-sized red and white-winged dragon looking up at him. Adam sneered at the animal, Sera's words echoing in his mind, and turned away to fly off. This was a Hellborn. Attacking it was something he shouldn't be doing since it could jeopardize the Heaven and Hell treaty.

He was not prepared for what happened next.

The dragon pounced on his back and Adam screeched out, "What the hell?!" As he stumbled to the ground. Adam opened gold furious eyes, glaring at the dumb animal. If animals could look smug, that thing would certainly would be.

"Get off!" Adam tried bucking him off, his wings flapping to get the surprisingly heavy animal off his back. The stupid dragon seemed to have taken this as a sign for play because soon they were tumbling on the ground, trying to pin each other down. As they fought, Adam noticed that the thing had six eyes. Six...familiar-looking eyes that Adam couldn't quite place.

Adam huffed and snapped at the thing. He clutched him around the middle with his massive jaws and swung him around into a tree. The thing bounced and hit his head on a branch. Adam thought that would be the end and he could finally leave this forest. Find somewhere else to spread his wings.

He was about to take off when a strangled cry made him stop. Adam didn't know why he stopped but he did turn around when he heard the same screech. The dragon had scratches all over his face, black blood seeping out as he tried to stop the pain.

Adam sighed. Was he seriously going to do this? The much larger dragon stomped back to the smaller dragon and huffed. "You started this. Shouldn't have fought me." The dragon only whined pathetically. Adam growled and huffed but brought the dragon closer. "Just...just need a little here..."

The dragon stopped whining when Adam healed him. "There. Now stop whining...you're really warm." Adam said absent-mindedly. He sniffed the dragon but was not expecting the little guy to crawl up his back again and curl around his neck.

Adam would have fought it. He should have torn that thing to shreds and left it to die for trying to mess with Adam. Instead, he let out a loud purr that rang through the air and the surrounding forest.

"Get...off," Adam said in between his purring but the little dragon seemed to produce more heat, making Adam tired. When was the last time he was this warm? Heaven was always on the cold side. He wanted this warmth and Adam's angelic dragon was practically taking the wheel now.

"Fine. Just...a few hours..." Adam grumbled before he fell asleep, surrounded by that warmth. The little dragon chuckled once he knew that Adam was asleep.

"Well, it's been a while, hasn't it? My, what a pretty form you have!" He whispered, careful not to stop his warm temperature as Adam slept. Claws glided over sensitive scales. Lucifer had been posing as a dragon and it was just lucky timing that Adam stumbled onto him.

Now, Lucifer had always known that Adam's angelic form he presented whenever they met wasn't real. He had no idea why the man would hide something like that, but in all honesty, Lucifer didn't care. Now, he can see why.

Dragons were something he and Lucifer had discussed for hours. It was one of the many things that never made it into Eden. Adam, seeing how sad Lucifer was at yet another idea being rejected, started to name animals after the dragon. Bearded Dragon, Komodo Dragon, and a few others.

Lucifer was touched, and still was, that Adam would do all that to keep his idea alive. But wasn't this adorable? Adam's angelic body was that of a dragon. A magnificent one at that.

Adam must be coming down here so Heaven wouldn't see him as a dragon. Lucifer wasn't a fool. A form like this would have the Higher Choir in a panic. Someone would have to have convinced Adam to hide it. Eventually, Adam would have gone stir crazy and the rest was history.

"This is going to be a lot of fun...." It had been a while since Lucifer had someone to play with.

[j0eyj0rdis0n]

Hi , its me again , do you think you could write a oneshot or sm about toby ? , like something about toby and the reader fucking while coverd blood during a mission? Like just the smuttiest smut you can make ?

BLOOD - "TICCI" TOBY

Fandom: Creepypasta

Word Count: 1,100

Plot: After the brutal slaying of your victims, Toby can't help but have you.

Warnings: SMUT, blood, oral (male receiving), dubcon, praise

His brown eyes were almost piercing as he looked you up and down. He had that smirk on, the one he wore when he saw something he liked. That something? Well tonight that would be you. The mission had been quite successful, especially for your first one working together. You’d heard Toby had been difficult to work with so you weren't expecting it to go great. You two only hung out when there was a group, so that wasn't exactly often. You'd gotten along for the most part, you'd always thought he was rather annoying but you'd put it aside for tonight.

“C-come c-closer pretty.” His deep voice sang as he moved his blood splattered goggles to the top of his head. You scoffed as you took a step towards the killer, not exactly in the mood for games. You just murdered a whole family after all. It was if you showered in blood with the way he killed the father.

He pulled you the rest of the way to him, his arm snaking around your waist as he whispered a “good girl” against your neck. Toby inhaled your sweet smell mixed with the iron of the dark blood that covered you both, slowly leaving a kiss on the soft flesh.

“Toby what the fuck!“ You tried to push the man off, reminding him that you barely know him and you’re still in the neighborhood, possibly for the eyes of anyone who happened to be near by.

He hummed and continued on, not moving an inch from your push, and certainly not caring about your current location. “W-w-who cares angel? I-it’s nice ‘n late.” He harshly nipped your neck, grabbing your wrist when you went to smack him. "Don't be r-rude. I've waited t-to be alone for sooooooo lo-ong. I've been patient." He growled against your neck. “You know y-you want me t-too.”

“You're fucking crazy.“ You hissed.

A sharp pain shot up your spine as he slammed you against the tree behind the pretty suburban house, biting your neck and slipping his hands under your heavy layers of clothing.

“I'll t-take you whether you wa-ant it or n-not.” He mumbled as he kneaded your soft flesh.

You felt your heart begin to beat against your chest. Were you... Nervous? You didn't really have much of a choice, he made that quite clear. Risk the mission and your life by calling for help, or let him have his way. He certainly wasn't unattractive...

Without giving you any longer he grabbed your hand harshly and drug you back inside the house you’d just left. It wasn't long before he propped you up against the kitchen counter, continuing to ravage your body as he wanted, slipping his hand down your pants and making quick work of your clit.

"Come on Toby- Please-" You begged, half hoping he'd let you go even though his fingers worked absolute wonders.

"Oh angel, y-you're soaked. Y-you really want me t-t-too." He smiled deviously as he continued. You could feel your orgasm quickly approaching. You thought you didn't want him... But your body was betraying you.

"Toby- Oh fuck!" You buried your head in the mans chest as you came. Your heavy orgasm rocking your body and your slick covering his fingers.

"Mmmm... That's rrright pretty. I-I'm not done with y-you yet either." He removed his hand from your pants and slowly licked his fingers, making sure to give you a nice little show which you thoroughly enjoyed even if you refused to show it.

He placed his hands on your blood covered chest, pulling your shirt down so he could smear it across your beautiful skin, rolling your nipples between his thumb and index finger. The red contrasted so well, it made him so painfully hard as he looked you over. Your beautiful tits smeared with blood, moaning from his touch.

Toby wasted no time bending you over the counter and pulling down your pants. You hear the clink of his belt as he undid it, unzipping his pants and letting them fall. Your heart raced in anticipation, it was so loud in your ears you worried he could hear it. He lets out a chuckle as he looks you over once more. He'd thought about this moment for a while.

He'd wanted you.

So. Damn. Bad.

Now was his chance. He pushed in, giving you no time to adjust as he bottomed out. He was all deep groans as he thrusted. You were so warm, so soft, so wet. It was everything he'd imagined from you. His cock was soaked with your juices, making wet slapping sounds as he ruthlessly fucked into you. He loved how lewd this was. Fucking against their victim's white marble counter, smearing blood against it as he thrusted harshly into you. The family dead into the living room in front of you. Your high pitched moans were like music to his ears. There was no reason to be quiet now and the both of you knew it.

"F-fuck you feel s-s-so damn good!" He moaned as he groped your boobs, smearing the blood further than he had previously.

You gripped the counter harshly as he ruined you, giving all of yourself to him with no more complaint. It wasn't long before you let go once again, covering his cock with your juices, falling limp against the counter as he continued. Soon enough he pulled out, leaving you feeling desperately empty as he turned you around, forcing you to your knees.

"I-I'm close Y/N, finish me o-off." He smirked, practically shoving his dick in your mouth. He let you do the rest with his hand in your hair, moaning loudly as you did.

It was only a matter of seconds before he came, pressing your head down so your nose touched his lower abdomen and his cock was buried deep inside your mouth. You dug your nails into his pale thighs with tears escaping your eyes. You swallowed obediently, hoping he'd quit suffocating you if you did. The proxy pulled you off by your hair, admiring how pathetic you looked. Your nose ran, tears falling down your pretty cheeks, on your knees, and your hair a mess from his hands.

"M-my pretty g-girl~" He hummed as he wiped your lip, picking you up and placing you on the counter. "Let's go h-home and take a s-shower huh?" He pulled up his pants, securing his belt before helping you with a smirk. Wiping your extra tears before picking you up in his slender but strong arms and leaving your bloody crime scene.

Okay this took forever but I'm proud of it. I hope you enjoy! Thank you for your asks, I love seeing them 🖤🖤

[spideyhexx]

Speaking of sucking off Billy, i imagine its midnight, and Billy came home drunk from the saloon playin' poker w the guys. His cheeks all flushed, he sways a bit when he walks. He keeps kissin and flirtin', drunk praises here and there, rubbing his bulge on reader's ass. Reader leads him to the bedroom to take off his clothes and sleep for the night. But when he's half naked, and reader be like unzipping his pants, he goes:

"Suck me off pls 🥺"

Reader gives in, and gives him the most sloppiest deep throat head he ever recieved. He cant stop the feral noises coming out of his mouth. His legs be shakin', his voice coming out breathy and shaky as well:

"O-oh, god. Yes!"

"T-thats my gi- oh god. Mhhmm, oh shit.! Baby, that's so f-fuckin' deep. Y-your throat is- fuCK- so f-fuckin' tight.."

(First time writing smut holy shi-)

GOD listen I can’t even think to add something to this it’s so good except it’s like even better probably if you’re both drunk so it’s sloppy all around on all counts AND HIM RAMBLING AS HES ABOUT TO COME WOULD BE JUST SOOOOOOO

[daphnefisherofficial]

bugna: TAKIPSILIM | destiny's twilight

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Pairing: MCU Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Avatar Fem!Reader

masterlist | previous | next chapter

(A/N: This update took a lot longer than expected, because I really wanted to flesh out Darius Carter's character here. As we discovered in the latest chapter, he is the avatar of Anubis and the past life of our moon boys (Marc, Steven and Jake). I can't wait for you to finally meet him and discover how he first met our beloved Mira (you) and became an avatar. Sooooooo, I will no longer keep you waiting. Enjoy!)

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE - LIEUTENANT DARIUS CARTER

The year was 1914, and the world was on the brink of an inferno. The scent of gunpowder and the sound of marching boots echoed through the continent, war slowly rising on the precipice as the entirety of mankind braced itself for a conflict of an unprecedented scale. As the avatar of Mayari, the goddess of the moon, your immortality has not shielded you from countless conflicts that you have witnessed over centuries. But something about this one felt different.

As the majority of Europe has been set ablaze with the flames of war, you found yourself walking on foreign soil, far from the shores of your own homeland. Leaving the tranquil halls of Harvard University where you had just earned your medical degree being a pensionada, you have answered the call of duty in the first world war as you were dispatched to the epicenter of battle.

Not as a warrior, but as a healer.

It was a time of uncertainty, and your only duty was to save lives and alleviate the suffering caused by the horrors of war. It was a daunting task, but you were determined to do your part.

It was in a military outpost in France where you crossed paths for the first time. The air in the barracks was thick with anticipation and a hint of apprehension as fresh soldier recruits started to fill the encampment, their faces a mix of youthful enthusiasm and the dawning realization of what lay ahead. 

You stood among the medical personnel sent by the American Red Cross, observing the nervous yet determined faces of your comrades as you were being introduced to one another and your regiment officer. Your crisp, white medical uniform felt heavy with responsibility, yet you bore it with the quiet strength of someone who had seen far more than her youthful appearance suggested.

It was here that you saw him for the first time.

His towering stature caught your eyes immediately, standing tall and proud among your peers as his striking hazel brown eyes seemed to pierce through the haze of bodies and chatter. He stood out, not just for his imposing presence but for the way he carried himself—confident, yet with an air of humility.

His olive brown skin was littered with nervous sweat as he saluted, his military uniform crisp and new.

"Lieutenant Darius Carter, reporting for duty," he said, his voice steady and confident.

“At ease, Lieutenant”, the regiment officer said, patting the young soldier’s back encouragingly before his eyes fell on you and your colleagues. “You will be in charge of this unit, together with our friends and allies from the American Red Cross. Why don’t you introduce yourselves?”

It was there, amidst the sea of young, eager faces, that your eyes met for the first time. Darius found himself tongue tied as you stepped forward, his heart pounding loudly in his chest as he witnessed you raising your right hand to salute before introducing yourself to your superiors and your fellow army recruits altogether. 

“Myrna Katigbak, reporting for duty,” you spoke, managing a polite smile despite yourself as you felt a hundred pairs of eyes on you. And yet, Darius's gaze stood out from the rest of your comrades, his eyes sparkling with bold admiration as he felt a strong connection in that moment, an inexplicable pull towards you that he couldn’t possibly ignore. 

Something about your enigmatic presence drew him in. Having grown up in a family with a deep connection to Egyptology, you were like an undiscovered pharaoh’s tomb to the young lieutenant waiting to be unravelled. And like any archaeologist and Egyptologists he has known his whole life, he has made it his first mission to seek you out and fulfill his quiet curiosity.

The next time you saw Darius Carter, it was in the makeshift soup kitchen. The scent of broth and bread filled the air as you ladled portions into bowls, your hands moving with practiced efficiency. Your fellow medics and soldiers, both weary and hungry after their intensive training, lined up at the long table with gratitude etched on their faces as you started to distribute lunch.

The young lieutenant was but a few steps away from the long table as the line progressed, almost chickening out as he neared. As he slowly approached, you looked up and met his gaze fully for the first time. Handing him his bowl of soup and a half loaf of bread, you noticed him trying to linger, his eyes bright with a mixture of hope and shyness as he struggled to find the words to speak.

“You can come back for seconds later, Lieutenant Carter”, you smiled, amused by his poor attempt at small talk which you find endearing.

“Right, thank you, Miss Katigbak”, he stammered as he ended up butchering the last name of your latest alias.

“You can just call me Myrna”, you corrected with an amused smile, bidding him goodbye as your attention shifted to the next man in need of sustenance. “I don’t expect everyone to get my last name right”

Darius internally groaned as he mildly shook his head, managing a soft chuckle despite himself as he continued moving forward and out of the lunch line. He found himself sitting at a nearby table, still gazing longingly at the long table where you were as he started to eat. As the hours slowly progressed and the early afternoon finally made its way, the number of people in the soup kitchen slowly dwindled until the only ones left were him and you.

This time around, Darius no longer allowed his nerves to get the best of him. With careful steps, he approached you once again, his eyes emanating the same spark from when he first laid eyes on you. 

“Excuse me, Miss Katigbak”, he asked, finally pronouncing your last name correctly with his rich, baritone voice that resonated pleasantly in the empty vicinity. “May I help you with anything?”

“You got it right this time,” you nodded in his direction as you started preparing your workspace for your upcoming chore. “And yes, you can help by carrying those empty bowls from the lunch tables and I’ll wash them here.”

He eagerly obliged, his movements careful as he balanced multiple trays of empty bowls on his hands. As soon as they piled up, he worked alongside you and shared your dishwashing workload. It was a mundane task for a soldier like him, but it didn’t matter as he had you to keep him company.

Besides, observing you from afar was becoming his favorite pastime. Your smooth and flawless skin was the first thing he noticed, a warm, sun-kissed brown with golden undertones that radiated health and vitality. Your hair, ebony-black and rich, fell in long, soft waves around your shoulders, framing your face perfectly. Your facade possessed a delicate heart-shaped contour that added a touch of youthful charm, along with high cheekbones and small, slightly upturned nose that accentuated your femininity. Your lips, full and naturally mauve, curved into a smile that reflected the warmth of your spirit, a genuine expression that made him feel at ease.

But it was your eyes that truly captivated him. Almond-shaped and chestnut brown, they glistened with warmth and mystery, capable of conveying joy, sorrow, and strength in a single glance. Framed by long, thick lashes, your gaze had an intensity that made those who met it feel uniquely seen. Your naturally arched brows added depth to your expression, giving you a look of quiet confidence.

“You never did go back for seconds, Lieutenant Carter” you spoke out loud, slightly startling Darius from his own reverie.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asked, his voice warm and earnest as you ended up laughing at his amusing response. 

“I meant you could go back in line earlier after finishing your meal to get a second serving of soup and bread”, you ended up explaining in which Darius sighed with pure relief. “I was waiting for you”

“Oh, right”, he seemed to relax at your friendly tone. “I’m too shy, unfortunately, so I will most likely die of hunger before I ask you for seconds, Miss Katigbak”

“You can just call me Myrna”, your amusement grew as you observed his quiet awkwardness which you find endearing. “Miss Katigbak is too formal and besides, it’s only the two of us here”

“Myrna it is”, Darius nodded, testing your name in his lips. “And please call me Darius, Lieutenant Carter is also too formal”

“Sure, Darius”, you obliged, prompting a warm smile from the lieutenant. “And now that introductions and our collective nerves are out of the way, care to tell me why you’re really here?”

"Well, to be honest, I was hoping to engage you in a conversation since we’ve first met”, Darius scratched the back of his head, his gaze locked onto yours. “I've heard that you're a medical graduate, and I thought I might pick your brain about a few things."

"I'm happy to help, but I have to warn you that I'm not the most exciting conversationalist”, you laughed softly. “I spend most of my time tending to wounds and doling out soup."

“That’s quite all right”, Darius's eyes sparkled with interest. "In fact, I have a penchant for Egyptology. Did you know that the ancient Egyptians were pioneers in the field of medicine?"

“Egyptology, you say?” you couldn't hide your surprise. "That's an unexpected interest for a soldier. But I must admit, it's a topic I find intriguing as well."

“I could spend all day talking about it if you’re interested”, Darius started, his positive energy overflowing at finding an outlet to share his interests. “I came from a family of archaeologists and Egyptologist, hence my knowledge”

As he started going on about his recent discoveries in the history of Egyptian medicine, you slowly fulfilled his curiosity by answering his questions in correlation to your current expertise, marking your longer interactions with the young lieutenant. He didn’t keep the conversation one-sided and challenged your insights, asking about your journey from America, your studies at Harvard, and your impressions of the war. You answered every question with polite brevity, finding his earnestness both charming and amusing as the two of you find companionship amidst the harsh reality of the ongoing war.

Your paths crossed once again in the crucible of battle. The frontlines were chaotic and brutal, the air filled with the deafening sounds of gunfire and explosions, serving as a constant backdrop to your work as a medic. You and Darius found yourselves deployed and stationed together with him as the commanding officer of your sector. As a medic, you worked tirelessly to fulfill your duty to save as many lives as possible and tended to the wounded from your unit, often under fire. 

It was during one of these intense battles that you truly began to see the depth of his character.

Darius was brave, almost to the point of recklessness, always throwing himself into the fray to protect his comrades. It was after one such skirmish that he found himself injured, and you were the one to tend to his wounds. As you worked, he watched you with a mixture of pain and admiration.

"You have a steady hand," he remarked, his voice strained but appreciative.

"Years of practice," you replied, focused on your task. "Hold still, this might hurt."

He winced but remained silent as you cleaned and bandaged his wounds. When you were finished, he looked at you with gratitude. "Thank you, Myrna. I don't know what I'd do without you here."

You smiled softly. "It's my duty, Darius. Just as it's yours to fight."

In the days that followed, your interactions grew more frequent and meaningful. You shared stories, hopes, and fears, finding solace in each other's company amidst the horrors of war. Your connection deepened, and it became clear that Darius's feelings for you were more than just admiration.

One fateful day, your barracks were under siege, almost overrun by enemy forces. The chaos was overwhelming as German soldiers started to storm the base. Recognizing the dire situation, Darius Carter ordered your unit as its commanding officer to evacuate.

“Myrna, take the others and head to the trucks”, he said, handing you a slip of paper with coordinates. “You and the rest of the surviving sector will be taken to the rendezvous point.”

“Understood, Lieutenant”, you nodded, saluting Darius as you started to help your fellow medics and other soldiers escape first, ensuring they reached the safety of the military trucks stationed on the outskirts. As the alarm sounded, signaling the order to retreat, you urged the remaining few of your comrades to make haste, barking orders left and right as you refused to leave anyone behind.

“Darius, you need to go”, you shouted amidst the chaos around you, seeing the lieutenant fought bravely as he clutched his rifle close, firing shot after shot at the advancing German soldiers merely a few feet away.

“I’m not going anywhere without you, Myrna”, he declared, his voice firm with resolve.

“I’ll be right behind you”, you insisted and started to push him away to safety, but he held his ground unwavering. 

“No, I’m not leaving you!” he shouted, his eyes locking onto yours with pure determination as his tone left for no argument. “We’re in this together”

You sighed in defeat, allowing him to stay by your side knowing there was no time to debate. The situation grew more perilous by the minute as it became clearer that the enemy was closing in on the barracks. But you and Darius continued to stand your ground, determined to aid your fellow comrades and guide them to safety.

Together, you fought your way through the turmoil as the chaos and destruction intensified, dodging bullets and explosions while glancing left and right to ensure each other’s safety. The moment of truth came when the last of the military trucks departed, and the two of you finally decided to make your escape. 

The barracks were in shambles, and you could hear the sounds of enemy soldiers drawing nearer. The two of you made a run for it, racing toward the outskirts where an abandoned motorbike was stationed.

But fate had other plans. Just as you were about to reach the vehicle, a group of German soldiers appeared on the scene, hot on your heels. They spotted your position, and before the two of you could react, shots rang out followed by a sharp crack that rang out. Darius staggered as he cried out in pain, clutching his shoulder where a bullet had struck. You watched in horror as he fell to the ground, the world seeming to slow down around you.

Panic coursed through you as you knelt beside him, trying to assess the situation. The German soldiers closed in, their weapons trained on you both. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest as you let your own instinct take over. There’s no way in hell that you will let him die on your watch.

Without hesitation, you drew upon the ancient powers bestowed on you by your patron goddess Mayari, summoning her very essence that lay dormant within you all these long years until this precise moment. In a blinding flash, your form shifted as the ceremonial armor slowly materialized in a shimmer of moonlight, replacing the former medical uniform enveloping your body.

You, Myrna Katigbak, a simple medic, began to change before Darius’s wide eyes. The initial shock and disbelief he felt witnessing your transformation slowly turned into awe, marking the beginning of your intertwined fates being woven together.

END OF CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

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